Not a TOTAL Waste of an Evening
DISCLAIMER: I Don't Own A Thing. Spare Me Legal Action.
NOTE: Just did it for fun. Not that good. Don't expect much, please. And it's a little Mary Sue though it won't continue that way. Despite these, please please please read and review! Thank you!
She watched detachedly at the swaying couples in the middle of the dimly-lit hotel ballroom. The music was modern and each pair gazed dreamily at each other with a look that made her roll her eyes in disgust. How she detested such sentimental crap! But as she sat there, a solitary figure at their table, sipping iced tea because there was nothing else for her to do, she felt the tiniest hint of envy.
Shrugging the feeling off, she continued biting her straw. At least I'm taking advantage of the bottomless iced tea, she thought, it's poor compensation for enjoyment but it's better than nothing. A small smile appeared on her face. Why was she even surprised? She had expected this much. After all, who in his right mind would dance with her when he had a choice among the prettier, more pleasant girls? It was a logical conclusion. So this was what it was like to be considered "not handsome enough to dance with". Well, since it was all expected, she wondered why she was upset.
Boredom. Unadulterated boredom. She wanted to at least enjoy the night somehow. Looking again at the empty seats of the tables near her, she gave up hope on getting a dance. Oh well.
An hour and half a dozen glasses of iced tea later, she emerged from the bathroom. She smoothed her gown and adjusted her shawl. As she re-entered the ballroom she noticed something strange. Everything was so still and quiet. Too quiet. The dancers stood unmoving in the middle of the floor as if paused in mid-step. Their smiles and expressions did not change.
She shook her head several times and pinched herself as well. I've heard of slow dancing but this is ridiculous, she thought. What the hell was going on here?
She walked around, staring dumbfounded at the motionless figures of people she knew. Circling the ballroom twice, she could find no one who could move. As she made another round, she bumped into someone.
"Hey! Watch where you're going!" shouted the person.
"I'm sorry," she muttered quickly and turned to look up at the person. A strange sight met her eyes. He was definitely not from her third year batch. He was Caucasian, nearly six feet tall, with silvery hair. An albino. And his eyes were the most ruthless shade of red she had ever seen.
But before any other information could register in her brain, she was sucked into a whirlpool of light, the force of the vacuum so powerful as to render her devoid of proper thought for a certain period of time. She was unable to tell if it was just for a few minutes or for hours, all she knew was that all familiar surroundings had dissolved into nothingness and she found herself floating across a dark void with no perceivable end. And then she felt the ground emerge beneath her feet again.
She struggled to gain balance on the new surface. Damn these heels, she muttered exasperatedly. Her hands caught hold of something solid and she used whatever it was for support until she could adjust to the sight of new surroundings.
Think clearly, she urged herself, do not panic. It is possible that this is all just a crazy dream. Under any circumstances, maintain your composure. This will sort itself out. It has to.
After pinching and slapping herself several times to ascertain that she was still in the waking world, she paid more attention to her location. She was standing alone (prom finery and all) in a stone balcony in a large palatial area. There were glass window doors at the far end of the balcony that lead to a brightly lit area. She did not want to venture there just yet. She surveyed the surroundings more carefully. The architecture was very strange, and was different from European or Asian structures that she had seen. It all seemed so square and…
Geometric, she thought was the appropriate term. She cringed. Of all words, this evoked the most disgust and not surprisingly. I wonder how many times the Pythagorean Theorem had to be applied to build this place, she pondered contemptuously. Brushing away unnecessary reflections, she gazed at the night sky. With a gasp of utter shock, she looked upon two glowing orbs that illuminated the darkness. The moon and the Earth.
Her head was bombarded with yet another series of slaps before she could accept what she saw. Now, this was getting very disturbing. I'm on another planet. What the heck? How the hell am I supposed to get back?
Not that I particularly want to. Maybe I ought to try my luck on this planet. Things might work a little differently for me. That's what I'll do. I'll wing it.
She had decided that if in fact all this was a dream, she might as well make it a pleasant one. Having decided thus much, she resolutely walked through the glass window doors and into a dazzling spectacle. Wide-eyed and gaping, she stared into the grandest ballroom she had ever seen.
It was a gigantic chamber with ornate, golden furnishings, intricately woven tapestries, sculptures, magnificent chandeliers and blinding lights, the walls carved elegantly with complex designs and the floor a glittering marble surface. Soft, stirring music filled the room with a distinct air of subtle elegance and complemented the light chatter that pervaded.
Then, she observed the people. They were a diverse group, mostly Caucasian but strange beings also populated the massive ballroom. They paid no heed to her or her unusual garb because everyone seemed to be dressed differently. The occasion seemed to be a sort of cultural festival or something. Some young women with golden curls and flamboyant dresses giggled in a corner as their bright blue eyes shifted from one young man to another. Another girl in a pink gown squealed with suppressed glee as a young man in a white puff-sleeved shirt and flowing blond hair approached her.
Seeing this, our protagonist rolled her eyes. Pathos and silliness are universal, I suppose, she considered. Nevertheless, she absorbed as much of the scene as she could, taking in every wonderful detail and gazing awestruck at every intricacy and fabulous detail. Elegant draperies hung on the windows and lovely bouquets of exotic looking plants were placed tastefully on some of the tables. The room was alive with both the music and the lively chatter of the people who circled it with evident enjoyment and satisfaction. All this made her Junior prom look like a poor gathering of people in cheap garb. She felt a bit embarrassed about her own apparel, herself but she figured, no one else seemed to care, so why should she?
Her head reeling with such numerous wonders bombarding her consciousness simultaneously, she clutched her head and caught her breath with a gasp of elation. Looking around, she spied a man who was dressed similarly to a waiter holding up a tray with glasses filled with a red liquid. Now that, she said to herself with a grin, is most definitely better than hotel iced tea.
Gliding past other well-dressed guests, when she finally reached the waiter, there was only one glass of "red wine" left on his tray. She reached out for it at the same time a gloved hand did. Her hand rested on the side of the glass, covered by the gloved palm. Somehow, something told her that she would not withdraw her hand. After all, she got it first. Her eyes darted from the two hands on the glass to the owner of the other.
It was the young man with silver hair and flaming red eyes!
His eyes meeting hers, they both exclaimed, "You!"
The expression on both their faces changed from shock to incredulity to determination. Neither would let go of the glass of wine. The waiter glanced quizzically and uncomfortably at the strange pair. His arm trembled slightly and he shifted his feet. His eyes darted from the fierce looking young commander to the foreign young woman with dark curls and similarly flaming eyes.
Why can't one of them just give in, he thought exasperatedly without betraying his annoyance on his face, my arm's falling asleep. Beads of sweat trailed from his forehead and he was concentrating all his energy on maintaining his posture and composure. This job sucks.
It was the girl who spoke first.
"With all due respect, sir," she began, the sarcasm and contempt dripping from her tongue, "I reached for this glass first." This was not about the glass. This was about who was in control. And she was in no mood to cave in. She had the right, she would assert it.
The look the other gave her could have melted a weaker person on the spot. The waiter was growing very, very uneasy now. The pale young man replied, in an equally dangerous tone, "And who do you think you are that you can claim this as your own?"
She was about to snap another venomous rejoinder when curiosity got the better of her. Instead, she replied calmly, "I am a guest here, sir," she bluffed easily, " And who might you be?"
He looked taken aback by such a response and left with no time to retort, he simply said (not without much pride), "I am Dilandau Albatou, Commander of the Dragonslayers Unit, Copper Army, Zaibach Empire, and may I add, also a guest here." His eyes held a look of absolute confidence in himself and in the fact that his position would get him wherever he wanted. It was only a matter of time.
With a smile, replied slyly, "With all due respect, Commander Albatou, may I request you to release my hand and maybe we can settle this more amicably."
Unfortunately, diplomacy was neither of their styles. Dilandau merely looked back at her with knotted brows. She's planning something, he thought.