Disclaimer: CCS does not legally belong to me.got that? That doesn't make
my story less original in any way. Why? Because if I just change the
characters' names then this story and its characters would be purely mine.
The fact that I do not do so shows how much I love CCS. Enough of my
babbling. Enjoy.
Chap. 1: Why must I?
Eriol stood at his huge windows and watched the sun flare a brilliant red as it ended its journey for the day at Clynester. Beneath his view of the sunset, everything and everyone seemed to be in a hurry; the streets were crowded with carriages and people, mostly women, moved as if they were trapped in some sort of a fast addictive rhythm as they scuttled about in a frenzy.
Despite his appearance, Eriol was quite annoyed, but even the most perceptive person could not tell that he was feeling such an emotion. On the exterior, he looked like he was content; his face was carefully set in a mask of indifference, while inside, he seethed with annoyance and barely contained irritation. Without looking more closely at the frantic figures, he could already guess what they were doing. The women of his aristocratic class were probably either picking up final materials for their elaborate apparels or getting their coiffures finished to perfection for a ball. His ball.
He could already predict what would happen at his event and he was thoroughly disgusted. As usual, hordes of available young ladies would approach him and try to hold his attention. They would try to get him to offer for them and marry them, but not because they loved him sincerely...as usual. He knew they didn't love him that way and they knew that he knew. Despite that, they tried their best to make him believe that they truly cared. What they really wanted from him was the popularity and the guarantee of infinite money that could be lavished on jewels and furs that came with his title. They wanted his presence to give them a chance to be in the spotlight...permanently. All in all, he thought that they looked at him as if he was a plate of well-dished trout and they were some hungry, starving children. Maybe some of them thought of him as a bank draft on legs?
He wondered how he had allowed his mother to talk him into such a ridiculous idea. Maybe it was because he knew that in the disguise of a softly worded suggestion, his mother had given her "imperial" command and although, he could refuse (he was, after all, the Duke of Clynester), he hadn't the heart to deny his mother her one desire. However, just because he had allowed it didn't mean that he had to like it, and he did not like it one bit.
Raking his eyes contemptuously for the final time over the busy crowd, he drew further into his house where more decorations and preparations for the ball were being done.
Chap. 1: Why must I?
Eriol stood at his huge windows and watched the sun flare a brilliant red as it ended its journey for the day at Clynester. Beneath his view of the sunset, everything and everyone seemed to be in a hurry; the streets were crowded with carriages and people, mostly women, moved as if they were trapped in some sort of a fast addictive rhythm as they scuttled about in a frenzy.
Despite his appearance, Eriol was quite annoyed, but even the most perceptive person could not tell that he was feeling such an emotion. On the exterior, he looked like he was content; his face was carefully set in a mask of indifference, while inside, he seethed with annoyance and barely contained irritation. Without looking more closely at the frantic figures, he could already guess what they were doing. The women of his aristocratic class were probably either picking up final materials for their elaborate apparels or getting their coiffures finished to perfection for a ball. His ball.
He could already predict what would happen at his event and he was thoroughly disgusted. As usual, hordes of available young ladies would approach him and try to hold his attention. They would try to get him to offer for them and marry them, but not because they loved him sincerely...as usual. He knew they didn't love him that way and they knew that he knew. Despite that, they tried their best to make him believe that they truly cared. What they really wanted from him was the popularity and the guarantee of infinite money that could be lavished on jewels and furs that came with his title. They wanted his presence to give them a chance to be in the spotlight...permanently. All in all, he thought that they looked at him as if he was a plate of well-dished trout and they were some hungry, starving children. Maybe some of them thought of him as a bank draft on legs?
He wondered how he had allowed his mother to talk him into such a ridiculous idea. Maybe it was because he knew that in the disguise of a softly worded suggestion, his mother had given her "imperial" command and although, he could refuse (he was, after all, the Duke of Clynester), he hadn't the heart to deny his mother her one desire. However, just because he had allowed it didn't mean that he had to like it, and he did not like it one bit.
Raking his eyes contemptuously for the final time over the busy crowd, he drew further into his house where more decorations and preparations for the ball were being done.