Hey, Moon,
Please forget to fall down
Hey, Moon,
Don't you fall down.
- Panic! At the Disco
--
Immediately upon her exit, Rosaline removed her mask and brought out her fan.
The room is ablaze, she thought, taking as much cool evening air as she could.
The night was refreshing, and the dark shrubbery in front of her spotted with flames of gold from the serene fireflies that inhabited her uncle's courtyards. She was alone… in the interim.
The doors creaked open, flooding the veranda with light. She returned the mask in its place, half-covering her face again.
"God give you a good evening, milady," said a male voice behind her.
"To you as well, gentleman," replied Rosaline politely, not turning from her reverie.
"And how fares the lady at this hour that she exits the room a-flushed? Is it the heat of the scope within?" said the voice.
Rosaline turned cautiously, and shrouded her surprise as much as possible. Mercutio was casually leaning upon the weathered stone wall, mask up and eyes gazing straightforward, head turned towards the direction of the woodland nearby.
"Very well, thank you for your concern," said Rosaline, hastily folding her fan. "Now I am quite replenished, thank you, and I must come inside, if you don't mind." And she picked up her skirts, heading towards the glass door.
Mercutio leaned his right arm on the wall, blocking the entrance.
"Aren't you the girl who fills my Romeo with woe, having rejected his advances so?" Mercutio asked.
"I'm sorry, sir, but does a lady not have the right to do whatever she wants?" Rosaline said, trying not to look at his eyes.
"Clever lady," said Mercutio. "But why fear on thy fair face? I have no malicious intentions, vow to the Virgin, swearing by the Saints. And of course you do. There can be no man to stop a girl's intents."
"Then I must have the right to pass through this door, kind sir," she said, "And no fear on my face, I assure you."
"Is that so?" said Mercutio. "Well, good my lady, if it may not be much of a bother, may I ask to see your face unmasked to prove this?"
Rosaline shivered and began, "Malicious intentions…"
"…Are not mine to intend. I am a gentleman, I vow to the Virgin, swear by the Saints," finished and said Mercutio, "and God so help me, may I be cursed with a pestilence if I thought such. By what else should I guarantee?"
"By none else, sir," Rosaline affirmed, and, hands shaking, lifted her mask.
Mercutio's heart spun furiously within his ribcage.
Uncontrollably, his grip on the wall loosened, and he leaned back to hide the reaction. Without another word Rosaline concealed her face again, and slipped through the doors.
Mercutio fell, shambled and stunned, heavy onto the stone floor, eyes blankly staring into the dark. Not until now had he really behold her face as close.
He couldn't blame Romeo now – she was heaven smiling upon his lowly countenance, his miserable persona no worth to regard her splendor. With trembling hands he replaced his mask, and, legs tremulous under a weightier bundle of skin and bones and muscle than was seeming before, stood up.
He slipped through the doors.
And, close by, Rosaline was watching.