Iridescence
3.25.12
10. Claret Accruement
Amongst the droves of doves and ravens, he defied the attire, embellished in scarlet ensemble. He was seated and downing a dose of claret, quirking his lips at the acuteness that lingered on his tongue. His selfdom was wide, coursing like a sweet river within him, broadening his shoulders and appraising his masculinity.
But his oneness was requited.
It was her altruistic gentleness and grace that managed to break his childish soul. He abandoned his goblet of scarlet honey to turn sideways in his chair, and he beheld her agility. Tufts of claret silk spread akin to an ocean's lap, curling before settling in low bounces against the girl's heels. She'd been lifted into the skilled arms of disparate men, a cardinal making herself scarce as she fisted the sky. His hand stiffened against the velvet chair's vertex, deep gold eyes residing with his feminine claret wine.
The young woman seated herself, greatful for intermission, closing her maroon-lidded eyes. She quaffed a flask of stainless drink, her indebtedness increasing. Her liberator was a young blonde man, whose soft cream lips were bloodied and soused as he grinned upon her. Her eyes widened; a skittish half-grin replaced her thanks. When she folded her balmy hands into her satin lap, it was then he noticed - but perferred to ignore - the espousal round her slim right finger. He glanced harder at her delicate ad poised profile and was solitary until her eyes drifted into his. She almost shrank back at his intimidating expression, and she offered him an unavowed wine. He sympathized her faltering fingers, her disquiet causing her to choke the neck of the glass, and he took her claimed hand and abandoned the exhilarating drink.
Cadenced clicks of heels sounded along the ecru tile floor. There, he twirled her once, twice, before winding her up, intimately close. Scarlet sleeves encircled her middle, simpering lips lingered against pale-gold strings sewn into leafless branches. A gasp left the girl, being retracted from his body much too slowly, the air around her bitterly cool as she stretched her arm and struck still, her legs forming a jaunty kick. Combined with her alluring stance, her flushed, hot cheeks and wildly parted lips taunted his desires. He reeled her in faster, captured her starstruck gaze before stealing her lips, colliding them with his own.
With thousands of witnesses looking fixedly, she blushed madly, her body convusling in his hot palms now sinking into her waist. She was appalled, especially once he uncoupled his lips from hers. Hands half-raised for a nexus of slaps, he ceased them.
He gingerly slid the ring from her right finger and slowly - all the while smiling - slipped it onto her left.
"You may be engaged to this man, but you're marrying me," is Ed's unspoken ending. :)
another request from her voice of adieux! A lot shorter than Chartreuse, (about 460 words) but that was the idea. :) The object for the theme is both Winry's dress and claret, a type of wine.
Thought process:
Dear Lord. I spent months thinking of how I would start this. I had a lot in mind of what I was going to put, made at least FOUR draft attempts before deleting the whole thing and restarting. :/ All the time I was thinking to make it just as long as Violaceau, until I thought to made it a poem. That failed because I was straying completely away from the theme and guidelines both. My guidelines were ambiguity and mystery, no thought or diolouge, stuble sensuality, teasing and cliffhanger suspense. The hardest thing had to be no thought, so I had to make more "action" sentences. But I kept looking back at #5 for the idea.
I really, really like the way this draft turned out compared to the previous. On the 18th, I published a draft, but after 24 hours, it received no hits. I decided then that it was trash, and after rereading, it was. So since then (an entire week!) I tried hard to create more imagery that that draft lacked, saving only two sentences. I hope this fulfilled Yvette's request and readers' enjoyment. :D