a fistful of glitter {{SETH}}

[blaire]

AND FROM YOUR LIPS SHE DREW AN
hallelujah

The whole place was a snow globe, filled to the top with conversation that popped like champagne bubbles and decorations that sparkled and glittered. Women whisked by in their dresses, dolled up to perfection, their society smiles pasted on their faces—nothing but sequins, all of them. Little shiny things meant to show off, to catch the light and reflect it back into the eye of the viewer. And Blaire was one of those sequins tonight, standing in the middle of the room in her red dress, her hair coiffed and coaxed into perfect tumbling waves over one of her shoulders.

She’d wanted to wear black that day, but her father had refused. ”This isn’t a funeral, Blaire. It’s a celebration. I’m sure your mother can find you something more appropriate.” But she was in mourning, no matter if she was in black or scarlet. This glitzy celebration was the memorial service to her freedom, and the bubbly laughter that floated around was as much mourning as she was going to get. After all, it was a subtle thing, this death—not so much going up in flames as just quietly dissolving into ash. She was being traded, like she was nothing more than a pretty portrait, and sold to a man that she barely knew and didn’t like—all so that her father’s business merger could have an official seal. And Blaire couldn’t rightfully complain. She’d known this would happen someday, and in all honesty she was somewhat relieved that her forced fiancé was her own age. She’d still be a trophy wife, but it wouldn’t be at the side of an old man, at least.

Seth Masters. The name of her future husband, the name of the man she’d been all but avoiding the whole night. It wasn’t as if she was nervous—Blaire simply didn’t get nervous, and she knew for a fact that she made a very nice trophy. The bright red dress looked nice against her skin and the gold of her hair, and the cut of it flattered her curves and hugged her in all the right places. Not to mention the demure (yet strategic) panels of slightly opaque red lace. It wasn’t anxiety—she simply didn’t want to see him. He was an arrogant loudmouthed fool, and although he wasn’t exactly bad-looking, she didn’t want him. She wanted no part in this—she just wanted to be left alone. She was so close to getting out of that school, away from the clique that she’d somehow become a part of, and out into the real world where she could prove herself as competent and capable of running her father’s business one day. But one owl before Christmas Break had shattered that dream like a silver-handled brush into a mirror, leaving only a broken, cracked reflection and shards of glass. Irony, almost.

Blaire would’ve chuckled morbidly if she’d felt at all capable of laughter. Instead, she kept her gaze fixed on the businessman in front of her, who was going on and on about the market for quills these days. And because Blaire was neither blind nor stupid, she knew that he was stealing glances at her chest whenever he thought she wasn’t looking. And this was supposed to be the world of the high-class. She silently stared down the businessman until he eventually trailed off at the end of a sentence, looked up at her face, and cleared his throat uncomfortably. She arched an eyebrow at him, having every intention of making him even more uncomfortable, but her father caught her eye from not too far away, his dark eyes searching for hers among the crowd. She murmured an excuse to the now-flustered businessman and stepped out of his way, weaving her way through the maze of people until she reached her father, a tall, stately man with very dark eyes, grey hair, and a neatly trimmed grey beard and moustache to match. Blaire wasn’t surprised to see her mother standing next to him—a slightly older, slightly sharper version of Blaire herself, pretty and perfect in a pearly gray gown with her hair coiled on the top of her head. Both parents were looking at Blaire expectantly.

”Where is your fiancé?” her mother wanted to know, and Blaire just raised one shoulder. ” I don’t quite know. I haven’t been babysitting him.” Her father chuckled slightly, while her mother simply tightened her mouth and looked away. Mr. Marcoux sent his eyes searching across the high-ceilinged room again, and then fixed on something—Blaire could only assume he’d found Seth among the prettily colored butterflies in the area. He made a quick motion with his hand, and then turned back to Blaire, all business once again. ”Once the Masters boy gets over here, you’re both to head over to the staircase. It’s almost time for the toast.”

And with that, her father was offering her mother his arm and setting off across the floor, to go make the final preparations of the toast that was going to be so much less casual than it seemed. But that was always the key in this world—make it all look easy, pretend that everything’s a bowl of cherries, even if you’re breaking up inside. Blaire turned to wait for her fiancé to break through the crowd, her face carefully composed, her back straight, holding her chin level as she waited to face the man that would hold the key to her freedom.


the dress

[seth]

Every few feet there was another couple, standing arm in arm, hand in hand, with fake smiles on their faces to go with their fake emotions that they tried to gush. Whether they were talking, laughing, drinking, or just standing there--they were all the same, and they would always be the same. Calm, composed individuals, who had the world in the palm of their hands, and liked to flaunt anything and everything they could. It was all a competition, in this high class world; a giant competition to see who would be the calmest, the richest, the most powerful.

Seth looked around at everybody in distaste that was hidden behind a similar fake smile, and wondered when was the last time he had been a real person.

Perhaps that was a brooding way to think at such a celebration, but he could care less. He was not in the mood to be walking around, laughing and mingling and pretending to enjoy the festivities. He wasn't in the mood to pretend to smile and pretend to be overjoyed about the reason he was in these form fitting dress robes and talking to some older gentlemen about the problems with society now-a-days. In fact, he wasn't even the mood to be a Slytherin, a high class son, the Masters boy. Not now, when another Christmas without his mother had just passed, and he was being forced into something he didn't care for.

Seth excused himself with a quiet word from the man who wouldn't quit talking and took off quickly through the throng of party guests. He was supposed to be ecstatic today; he was getting married! He was engaged to the Marcoux daughter, a beautiful young lady who would help him bring the Masters Potion Company and the Marcoux Potion Company together! An arranged marriage, sure, but what was the matter with that, when your fiancé was such a catch? In all honesty, it wasn't the arranged marriage that had him feeling like a sulky child. Seth knew he was being ridiculous, but he also knew that nobody else could tell he was unhappy, so what did he care if inside he was being broody? No, it wasn't the arranged marriage as much as it was the timing of the whole thing--it all just had to happen over Christmas break. The worst part was, Seth's father was well aware of the timing, and had done it now on purpose. His father, Seth decided, was nothing more than a coward who needed a distraction from the fact that on Christmas, his wife wasn't there. Of course he wouldn't think about how his son might feel, considering it had been his mother as well as his father's wife.

"Son!" Seth turned at the call and moved slowly over to his father and his latest wife, smoothing down the front of his embroided dress robes, smiling so fakely that he thought his cheeks might break. Again he wondered when was the last time he had been a real person. At school he was part of a clique that expected him to be loud and obnoxious, and here he was the Masters heir, a young, promising business man who was getting married and therefore was expected to be full of happy laughs. It was ridiculous.

"Why aren't you mingling with young Miss Marcoux? That is the point of this party, after all, my boy," his father intoned, frowning slightly. Seth reached up to smooth down a piece of his hair, looking his dad up and down as his smile shrunk a little. They were similar in every aspect except for their eyes, and apparently, their intelligence. Seth's father was oblivious to the fact that his son was not happy with this engagement and therefore didn't want to be around Blaire; but of course, Seth hid it well, so who could blame his father?

"I haven't quite been able to catch her, father," Seth explained, which was true enough. He hadn't exactly tried to, but he knew Marcoux was avoiding him anyways. She had never been a fan of him--both were considered to be in the same group in the noble House of Slytherin, but where as Blaire was quiet and 'icy', he was loud and friendly towards most of the Slytherins. That's how he came off as, in any case, and so Blaire had never taken a liking to him. It was alright with him; he didn't much like her either, with her icy exterior and blank stares. He never could quite figure her out, and never had liked that. It was true that she was beautiful, only a fool would deny that, especially with the red dress she wore on this evening. Beauty, he had already decided though, was not enough to make him want this particular girl.

"Why don't I try and find her? The toast is starting soon," Seth continued, turning and letting his eyes scan the room. His eyes, which seemed dull today, scanned the area, taking in a hundred faces with fake expressions until he finally met the gaze of Mr. Marcoux. A single wave told him he was to move over to him, and Seth gave a small nod and turned back to his father. "I've found her, with her father. I'll head over to them now. We'll talk later." Seth then started through the crowd towards Blaire, who was now standing alone, without having said a word to his 'new mother'.

As he neared the spot, his dull blue eyes met with hers, and immediately he felt himself straighten up just a bit more, his chin leveling as he settled at his full height. Coming to a stop in front of Blaire, Seth gave her a smirk that came easily and inclined his head in a bow that required no other movement. "Miss Marcoux," he said smoothly, lifting his head again. "Your father beckoned. I believe we're to prepare for the toast now, yes?" Seth paused, and then his smirk widened a little, as he somehow fell back into the place of the arrogant Hogwarts student that he played so well. "By the way, you look simply stunning in that dress."

And with that, he somehow was being 'himself' again. Again, Seth was shoving down all unhappy feelings, so he could please his father and everyone else. Again, he was being fake and exactly what he was 'supposed' to be as a Slytherin and rich, powerful man. Even if deep down, all he could think about was that his mother never would have stood for this. When did that ever matter?

[blaire]

Blaire could pick him out of the crowd as her pushed his way through, although she probably shouldn’t have been able to. After all, wasn’t everyone the same in this flurry of sparkles? Every little colorful sequin wanted to believe it was the most shiny, the most beautiful, the most convincingly pretty. But all their glittering smiles were the same, and Seth’s was no exception as he made his way towards her. Blaire told herself that the only thing keeping him from blending into the other men around him like runny watercolors was the fact that he was looking directly at her—no one else tried to meet her eyes much. It was much easier to admire a trophy when you weren’t reminded with the eyes that were windows that this trophy was alive.

She met his eyes for a moment as he came to a stop beside her, noting that his eyes were watercolor as well—not vivid or intense like she had sometimes thought they were at school. Tonight they were bland and washed-out, which was just as well. Blaire knew the red of her own dress was turning her eyes grey, which was an equally dull color. They went well together tonight, she and Seth, two colorless birds trying to cover themselves in vivid plumes to hide their white feathers from the world.

Oh, but Blaire had deluded herself, it seemed. She and the Masters boy would not go well together at all, in any aspect, especially if he went on thinking that such dollar store compliments would either fool her or please her. She was well aware that this world was mostly gilded, mostly copper disguised by a thin outer coating of gold, but if he thought that she was naïve enough to believe anything that came out of his candy-coated mouth then he was sadly deluded. She was far from a swooning bride-to-be in a corset and a veil of naivety. She tweaked one eyebrow at him, allowing her gaze to flick over the length of his body, taking in the immaculate dress robes, the dark blonde hair, the eyes that were far from unpleasant even at their dullest…he wasn’t unattractive. She supposed she should be pleased. But it was hard to admire the man that was to become her monarch and ruler.

”This stunning dress is purely for your viewing pleasure, Mr. Masters. You and your family have to be allowed to see the merchandise, and I hope that you are satisfied in knowing that I have no unsightly deformities.” Blaire’s voice was cool and somewhat pleasant in its calmness, her expression neutral as she looked at him. ”I’m sure the deepest wish of the Marcoux family is that this dress stuns your father enough to sign the contract.” The most miniscule hint of venom crept its way into her tone on the last part, which was quite a surprise, considering that Blaire never let anything break through her mask, not even the slightest difference in the pronunciation of a single syllable in a single word. But that one vowel sound was a trip wire—if someone picked up on it, they would know that she didn’t exactly mean what she said. And in this world, that tiny slip-up was unacceptable.

Blaire had been born into this glittery masquerade ball, and she simply did not make mistakes. Not even tiny ones that most people wouldn’t pick up on. This was her world, her talent, and she’d made her home in this snow globe, and accepting this world meant gluing that mask to your face and leaving it there until it was fused and welded to you—there was no room for loose corners where the curve of a cheek could be glimpsed. Internally, Blaire was frowning at herself, disappointed, a tad confused as to why she should slip up now. Externally, all she did was turn her face away from him for a moment, then close her eyes for what could pass for a slow blink. And then Blaire was perfectly composed again, her gaze once more on her fiancé’s face.

”It is, in fact, time for the toast. This way.” She found her way to the bottom of the large, elegant curved staircase quite easily, seeing as the crowd was thinner in this area of the ballroom. Which had been planned, of course. Nothing in this world was coincidence. She stepped onto the staircase, holding her skirt with one hand as she ascended the stairs, stopping on the fifth step and accepting two glasses of champagne from a butler who offered them to her on a silver tray with a bowed head and a murmured ”Miss Blaire.” She nodded her head and barely twitched her lips at the butler, who straightened up and continued his way down the staircase after a nod at Seth.

Blaire turned to wait for Seth, holding out his glass of champagne, heating and shaping the iron of her own cage. “And now,” she said quietly, glancing at her glass of fizzing champagne, ”we wait here, for our parents and their announcements.”

[seth]

He was being analyzed. Growing up in a world where everything you did was observed, where every word you said and every motion put into action was scrutinized to make sure things were up to par, it wasn't hard to know when someone had an eye on you. Or perhaps he was just especially skilled at knowing what to look for, with his keen eye for the smaller details. Whatever the case, Seth felt the gaze that was on him even before his eyes met with his fiance's, and from the moment he was in her presence, he knew that everything he did was as if he were doing it for a judge panel, tested of his worth.

From the moment his father informed him of the engagement he was being forced into, Seth had dreaded the choice for his future wife. It wasn't that Blaire Marcoux was unattractive; she was gorgeous, any man worth his intelligence would have to admit it. His compliment towards her hadn't been without real meaning, as she did look stunning in her dress. Her hair was always perfectly in place, her eyes were alert and interesting, and everything about her appearance was pleasing to the eye; however, it was her personality that had immediately made him wonder how this marriage would ever work out.

Blaire didn't like him, and Seth wasn't daft enough to think she did. She found his boisterous personality irritating, did not ever fall for his charm; hell, half the time he couldn't even tell what she was feeling. She seemed to have no emotion, besides a cool exterior, and something about it usually irritated him as well. Not to mention he was not used to someone of such high status to dislike him so much; that, also, was a tad irritating. Now was no exception, as he watched her eyebrow raise and her eyes look him up and down. Being analyzed, as always. The only difference was, Seth knew with this particular girl, he would never please. Even worse, she would never show that she wasn't pleased.

Her first response made it easy for him to keep the smirk in place, almost looking amused, but not quite. He kept his eyes trained alertly on her face, taking in every small movement that she made, her tone washing over him and giving off the same message Seth was sure she wanted to convey. Nothing bitter, nothing sad, nothing at all; calm, cool, collected, as always. However, when words on his father and the contract entered in, a barely noticeable change crept into her voice, and he found himself barely raising his eyebrows and letting his smirk fall away.

Suddely, it was Seth's turn to analyze what she was doing. No longer was he just staring at her alertly, a habit of his that he would never break; instead, his gaze barely intensified, eyes narrowing a little as he scrutanized the girl in front of him. He watched as she turned, and something told him that she was gaining composure again. He hadn't imagined it, then; Blaire had let her true colors show for just a split second. She was not at all pleased with this engagement, at being traded off as if some kind of merchandise. The briefest of smiles flashed over Seth's face before disappearing as she turned back to him.

Giving a small nod at Blaire's command, he followed her through the crowd to the staircase, moving up slowly and gracefully beside her, exchanging a small nod of thanks to the waiter who held their drinks. Reaching out, he accepted his champagne from Blaire and moved to stand beside her, turning slowly to face the large crowd beneath them, clutching his drink tightly in his hand. This glass would be the only thing he drank tonight, of that he was sure. While many found the need to drown themselves in beverages that would make them forget everything, from their problems to their own names, he couldn't risk losing his wit like that. Sucking in a deep breath that could be taken as the smallest of inhales, he turned his head to look at Blaire, deciding that he had been silent long enough. He needed to continue his charade if he was to uphold the character she believed him to be.

Forcing the smirk back into place, he kept one arm bent behind his back before speaking. "I didn't have a chance to comment on what you said earlier, before you were leading me away," he said, and was relieved to hear his voice take on an arrogant, almost amused tone. Perfect. "I feel the need to assure you that my father has every intention of signing this contract. The Marcoux family has no need to worry themselves, if that is indeed true that they are. This is too sweet of a deal to pass up, so to speak, and my father has always had quite the sweet tooth."

Pausing, Seth glanced away from Blaire, out over the crowd again. He let his dull eyes take in every dolled up woman, and every perfectly poised man, feeling a small ball of disgust form in his stomach. For a brief moment, thoughts of his mother and what she would say of her only son being given away as part of a business deal flashed across his mind, before he was forcing himself to forget about it. Now was not the time to think on his mother--he needed to keep up the popular jock front, the mask that he was positive Blaire saw him in. After all, he never allowed anything else at school.

"As for myself," he continued, sliding his gaze to her face and flashing an even wider smirk, "I won't deny that I am relieved at the lack of deformities. Hopefully you, as well as the Marcoux family, has been pleased with the way I have presented myself today. Although I did take a rather awkwardly large step on the way over here. I hope nobody noticed. You don't suppose your parents or yourself will grudge me my slip up?" The smirk stayed wide and arrogant as he looked at her, slight amusement coloring his tone. Pretending that this was all a game, when he really hated every minute of it. Unlike Blaire, he would not allow any unhappiness to be present in any way. His father wanted this, the Marcoux's wanted this, and be damned if he would not give them exactly what they wanted.

[blaire]

He was being arrogant again, puffing up his chest and straightening out like some kind of peacock. She supposed she couldn’t blame him, seeing as the whole world was just plain birds trying to distract from their mediocrity with colorful displays of feathers. But she simply wasn’t pleased with it tonight. She didn’t want to be here. She wanted to take off the dress that might as well have been her own plume of feathers and shove it to the back of her closet. She didn’t want to be part of this play tonight—but that was the irony of it. The unwilling pawns got the leading roles. It was all a test, the way Blaire saw it. This was her initiation—this was the way they tested how well her mask fit, and whether the ribbon holding it on was double knotted.

Blaire’s mask was custom-fitted. It wouldn’t be slipping off anytime soon—that one twisted syllable of sound earlier was a minor slip up. She’d forgotten a line. Seth hadn’t noticed, he’d continued on with the play, covering her little mistake with more gestures and stage directions. And she’d recovered, readjusted her mask, and gone on with the show. She didn’t want to dwell on just how grateful she was that Seth hadn’t noticed her mistake. This show was for him, as well as the audience. Just because they happened to be on stage together didn’t mean they had anything to share with the other. It was a lonely world, this glittering stage. But it was the only world that she knew.

She turned to face him as he spoke of his father’s sweet tooth, and she almost smiled wryly. ”Rich men always seem to have a sweet tooth,” she murmured, looking out over the crowd of people, not needing to see his expression to know that it would be matching the arrogance in his voice. He was right about the sweet tooth, though. The men in this room couldn’t resist something sweet. Look at Seth’s father, who was here with some young unknown woman on his arm—he’d just married her, Blaire thought. And the woman was no main course, she was just a sugar cookie—the kind you’d find on display for a reception. They were sweet, and sometimes irresistible, but they’d be gone in two minutes. And Blaire’s own father was no exception. She didn’t want to think about her mother and just what kind of a sugary attraction she’d been—it was bad enough that he was auctioning off his only daughter because someone had offered him a slice of cake that he didn’t even need.

She turned her grey gaze back to his face as he spoke, noting the wide arrogant smirk, the way that he didn’t even seem to care much about anything. Nonchalant, like he was above all of this. Like he thought he might actually get to go home after the play was over. Blaire kept her gaze level until he finished, when she dropped her eyes to his collar, leaned forward, and brushed off an imaginary piece of lint from his lapel. While she was close to him, almost eye-to-eye because of her slight heels, she flicked her eyes back to his. ”I would be cautious if I were you, Seth,” she said softly, red glossy lips moving as she shaped her words carefully. ”My parents can be quite picky.”

It was then that Blaire became aware of a familiar dark figure in her peripheral vision, mounting the base of the stairs with a pearly gray decoration at his side. Blaire immediately straightened up, distancing herself from Seth once more, standing stoically with her champagne held delicately in one hand. Her father stopped at the bottom step, letting her mother continue up the steps. Blaire internally froze up—her mother was going to make a toast? Tonight, of all nights? Mrs. Marcoux might’ve been a confectioner’s delight, with her perfect poise and her coiled blonde hair and her features that had only slightly aged, but she was hardly qualified as a public speaker, especially at such an event. She got to the step right below Blaire and Seth, let her blue-grey gaze skip over her daughter and linger on Seth only briefly, and then she turned to face the crowd. After a few moments of holding her hands up and having a waiter tap on a wine glass, she spoke. ”Family, friends, and esteemed guests. Thank you for being here tonight, for an occasion very important to the Marcoux and the Masters family. We are delighted to be able to host you.” Her voice was soft, but it carried well. And her speech was so harmless that Blaire was getting a little nervous. ”But I know that you are all waiting for a toast, you’d like to get on with it,” she smiled, and waited for the polite laughter to fade. ”So, may I introduce my husband, Mr. Brandon Marcoux.”

There followed some polite applause as Blaire’s father ascended the stairs, and he smiled at Blaire and kissed her hand, before giving Seth’s hand a firm shake. Blaire almost frowned, had a desire to throw her arms around her father’s neck like she hadn’t done since she was ten and cry and ask him not to do this to her. Her mother might’ve been…different, but her father had always been constant, always been strong and familiar, like one of the leather armchairs that he liked so much. Sure, he was imposing, but perhaps he’d listen to her…no. This was what he wanted of her. And it was her destiny, to be a pretty caged bird. So she managed a tiny smile and kept her serene pose, champagne in one hand, flicking a glance at Seth before her father started to speak.

”Family and business,” he boomed with a smile, dark eyes flashing. ”It’s a very rare day when the two can fit together. My own family has been very understanding when I have to devote time to my business over the years, and with their support, the Marcoux Cauldron Company has grown from a tiny corner shop to a worldwide business.” He smiled at the clapping, and turned a special smile on Blaire and her mother. ”And now, I have the honor of having you all present on the day when family and business come together perfectly. As my company merges with the Masters Potions Company, I also have the joy of welcoming the Masters into my own family, in the form of the betrothal of their strapping son, Seth, to my beautiful daughter, Blaire.” Mr. Marcoux turned around to face the step above him, taking Seth’s free hand and joining it with Blaire’s free hand. At first, Blaire barely hung on to Seth’s hand, let her fingers be limp and lifeless. But when she looked out over the crowd of colorful people and their masklike faces, her hand involuntarily tightened on his. She kept her gaze on her father as this occurred, not sure why this was happening.

Seth’s father was walking up the stairs as well, and Mr. Marcoux greeted him with a smile and a handshake, gesturing loosely to the assembled masses and saying something to introduce him. It had all turned to white noise, all blurred colors and smeared sparkles. Blaire’s knuckles went paler on her glass of champagne, but then she snapped herself out of it, making herself pay attention to Mr. Master’s speech. It’s what people wanted, after all.

[seth]

Blaire's comment on rich men and their sweet tooths almost brought a smile to Seth's lips. Had he known she wasn't looking at him anymore, he might have let it, but as he was gazing over the crowd, he felt it best to just keep up the arrogant front at all times tonight, in case someone was looking his way. How right Blaire was, though. His father wanted the sweetest, aka best, of everything--from women to clothes to business deals, he was always moving on to his next treat. Seth couldn't be certain from Blaire's tone, but he had a suspicion that she probably put him in the same category as his father. She probably thought he saw her as a prize, a sweet, a thing to gloat about owning. With this mask he chose to wear, he wouldn't try and reassure her.

As she stepped toward him, picking at something on his dress robes that he was positive didn't really exist, he felt his smirk fall away to be replaced with an almost cool expression. He met her gaze, taking in her words to be cautious and barely raising one eyebrow, knowing that there was no response to this. She wasn't talking about her parents; Seth knew her parents were pleased, but she was a different story. This was why everything was wrong--his fiancée didn't like him, wasn't impressed and never would be with the mask that he held in front of his face carefully. He was getting put into an arranged marriage, and it was because he was stuck living a life with a father who no longer looked out for his son.

As Blaire moved away from him again, Seth realized that Mr. and Mrs. Marcoux were nearing the stairs, ready to start the toasts, so he turned towards them as well and took a deep breath, his composure solidifying again. He kept his face impassive, no smirk or any expression really, as he forced his thoughts and feelings deep somewhere inside of him. He had chosen to live this life the day his mother died, and so he would play out his part perfectly, no complaints and no backing down. Even if he would be unhappy, even if Blaire disliked him, even if this meant the end of his life--because this new life, this arranged marriage, was not his. It was his father's.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Seth cleared his throat quietly as Mrs. Marcoux continued up the stairs, while Mr. Marcoux stayed down below. His eyes flickered over to Blaire, who looked stoic as ever, before moving back to her mum. Their gazes met, and Seth offered the tiniest of smiles before she was turning towards the crowd and trying to get their attention. As she began her small speech, Seth made himself straighten up, letting his arm drop from behind his back, his other hand gripping the glass of champagne just a little tighter as the crowd responded to Mr. Marcoux climbing the stairs. Seth took in a deep breath as the elder man approached, feeling his stomach tighten a little. He had always enjoyed Mr. Marcoux's company, finding him to be funny, fair, even kind--but now, with this toast, he wasn't sure how he felt towards the man.

Seth knew exactly how he was supposed to act, though, so he shook the hand that was offered firmly and confidently, letting a smile spread over his features just for a moment to please the man. As soon as his hand dropped, he found himself looking to Blaire again, and oddly, wondering what could be going through her head at this moment. She was in a similar spot to his--she was being given away by her parents, whom she might have trusted, and had no choice. For a moment he thought he saw her eyes flicker over towards him, but in the next moment she was looking at her dad again, and turned back to the man, wondering if he had imagined the whole thing.

The speech given was a good one, keeping the crowd entertained and happy. Seth still kept his face expressionless as her dad finished up, turned to them, and joined their hands together. Blaire's hung in his, limp and suggesting that she didn't want to be doing this. For once, Seth felt as if they were on the same page, and didn't bother trying to tighten the bond of their hands. In the next moment, though, he suddenly felt her hold on his hand tighten, and it was such a surprise that it actually showed on his face. For a moment he felt his eyes widen, as he turned his head a little to look at Blaire. After only a pause he realized his mistake and quickly corrected it, cursing inwardly as he turned back to the crowd--she had shocked him, suddenly gripping on to his hand. He wouldn't let it phase him, though, and so arranged his features carefully, still allowing his grip to be limp.

So focused had he been on Blaire's sudden change, he hadn't noticed that his father had been climbing the stairs, getting introduced. Suddenly he found himself locking eyes with his dad, and just as Blaire's hand had tightened, so did his. He didn't look at her, didn't look away from his father as the man moved to take Blaire's hand and kiss it as well, head bowing. He shook his father's hand when it was offered, and with a large effort brought what could pass as a smile to his face. Then it dropped immediately, as his dad turned away to let his bright gaze take in the crowd.

"It's hardly fair to make me try and follow up that toast with one that will entertain this wonderful crowd," his dad said loudly and clearly, and was met with polite laughs. "There isn't even much more to add. The Masters family, and in turn the Masters Potion Company, is extremely honored to join with the Marcoux' and their Cauldron Company. I can think of no better wife for my only son, than their lovely daughter Blaire. I wish them the best of luck from this day onward. Thank you all for coming to celebrate this with us." Seth felt a small jolt in the pit of his stomach as his dad turned to smile at them again, before raising the glass of champage he held and taking a drink from it. The crowd followed suit, and slowly Seth lifted his own drink, feeling as if the glass had gained one hundred pounds.

After the liquid made it to his mouth, Seth felt the glass slip from his hands. As if in slow motion, he watched it fall to the steps, champage spilling as it shattered into a hundred pieces. His ears seemed to have stopped working, as all he could hear now were his father's words repeated, as he stared at this glass and realized that it was just the same as his life now. Broken. However, unlike his life, he knew there was something he could do about this--so he looked up at Blaire, felt an apology slip past his lips, pulled out his wand, and tried to fix this mess he made.

[blaire]

She could feel him looking at her as she gripped his hand, like she was some kind of anomaly—a parrot in a canary’s cage, an exotic, grating thing where a songbird should’ve been. And she didn’t blame him, because she knew she was messing up. She knew that she should’ve been going on with the play, convincing everyone in the audience so well that she convinced her fellow actor as well. But it was as if her fingers were someone else’s, and they wouldn’t let go of Seth’s even though she was aware that her performance was being compromised. To make up for her hand’s lack of control, she composed her face, making sure she was all serene marble and pretty red satin.

Just like she could feel him looking at her, Blaire could feel the moment when Seth pulled his own mask back on and turned back to the public. That’s right—he was in the spotlight as well, and her small failing couldn’t be viewed by the expectant audience as long as she and Seth played it off and continued to weave the story as if they were two happy, shallow creatures who could imagine nothing better than being promised to the other. And if their performance was good, if they were lucky, Blaire might occasionally get the chance to exit stage left and slide her mask up to her forehead for a moment, before the next scene started.

But that was not happening now, and if she wanted to get the audience engrossed in this fairytale of perfection, she was going to have to up her game. And even though knowing that her father was so happy for her, so delighted by this deal and this marriage, was twisting the knot in her stomach, Blaire wiped her face clear of all emotion and let Mr. Masters’ speech barely register in her ears. But she was paying enough attention to know when it was time to raise her glass in the toast. The prequel to the grand finale, the stage direction that would mark the climax of this scene. She could feel all of those jeweled eyes on her, expecting something.

She took a slight breath in through her nose, forcibly loosened her white-knuckled grip on her glass of champagne, and barely curled the corners of her mouth upwards (the most she could manage). Then she, too, raised her glass like some grand torch, and then brought it to her lips and took a tiny sip, so much less than what part of her wanted to drink. Some part of her was demanding oblivion, craving the numbness that alcohol could bring her, like the painkilling potion that could put people in a daze for days. But she knew she couldn’t. It wouldn’t be socially acceptable, nor would it truly help. It would be like shoving a mess of clothes under her bed, like some people did. It might make the immediate view better, but it left a tangled dusty debris to clean up later.

So she limited herself to a sip for now, because those smiling, sparkling butterflies were all watching her with their shiny eyes, and it wouldn’t do to gorge herself on the nectar presented. If she absolutely had to escape, then she would do it discreetly—later, when she wasn’t the center of attention, when it was acceptable to flutter her colorful wings and retreat into a corner, where she’d fade into the equally colorful foliage.

The all-too-familiar sound of breaking glass jolted Blaire out of her plans, yanking on her senses, immediate and demanding. Blaire’s vision sharpened, and she looked immediately towards her mother, whom she couldn’t find in the crowd near the base of the stairs. There was no use looking for her. Blaire knelt down on the stairs, the rest of the world tuned out, as she observed the tiny iridescent pile of glass. Odd, how something broken could be so pretty. And so painful, if you touched it…she should probably clean it up now, before anyone else could touch it and injure themselves. The scars on her hands seemed to emit a warning light as Blaire stretched her fingers towards the tiny collection.

And then it was gone, swirling up into the air like tiny opaque hummingbirds, and Blaire looked at it blankly. No one ever cleaned up the glass—that was her job. But then she looked up further, into her fiancé’s flat blue eyes, now clouded with worry and embarrassment. The rest of the world jumped back into existence like a rubber band, bringing with it the realization of what had happened. It was Seth’s glass that had dropped and shattered. Her mother was serene and relatively happy at the bottom of the stairs. And she was kneeling next to the man she’d just been publically given to, engrossed by broken glass.

No wonder Seth looked so horrified—she’d been making a fool of herself. Blaire slowly rose to her feet, keeping her movements graceful, not spilling a drop of champagne as she rose back up to full height and nodded coolly at a waiter to take her bubbling glass away. Then she turned back to Seth, fully composed, grey eyes set on his face. ”It’s quite alright,” she murmured, ”it was just an accident. If we make the ring presentation full of flourishes, no one will recall this.’

[seth]

Certain things did not happen when you lived a life of the rich and socially proper. And unless there was an incident, or a moment of extreme shock or fear, dropping and breaking a glass was one of those things. Even as Seth felt his glass slip from his fingertips he felt a jolt of shock that such a thing was really occurring; he was a Quidditch player, a man of prestige and power and popularity. There was no just reason for him to be watching this glass of his, full of bubbling champagne, falling to the steps and breaking. Yes, this whole ceremony of him being forever bound to a girl that he didn't get to choose had his emotions on a roller coaster, but this was not a shock to him, nor was there an incident. Which made everything that was happening at this moment completely unacceptable.

The liquid in the glass sloshed over the edges and arced down a few steps, the splash of it on the marble stairs abnormally loud to Seth's ears. The tinkling sound of glass was even louder, and he felt the want to flinch, but didn't. His eyes did widen just a little, however, as the once perfectly shaped glass become a pile of large and small broken pieces on the step himself and Blaire stood upon, a few pieces narrowly avoiding them both. The immediate shock he had felt as the glass slipped was exchanged with a surprisingly deep embarrassment (for him, in any case), and his dull eyes jerked up and swept the crowd, praying for a stroke of luck. If there was a higher power, it was with him at that moment, for nobody seemed to realize what had happened except for a few waiters and, of course, Blaire. All the perfectly coiffed people below were enhanced in conversations of their own, energy on high, and even their parents were further occupied, meaning that his blunder was mostly unnoticed.

However, a few people had noticed, and it had happened right next to his fiancée, so Seth knew he could not just leave this mess; it wasn't his style, in any case. So, with his right hand, which he just realized had been disconnected from Blaire's before his father's speech, he extracted his wand from a deep pocket in his robes. Before setting to work on cleaning up, however, Seth found himself looking to Blaire, and something odd happened; he was suddenly apologizing. It wasn't his usual 'I apologize' line, in which he avoided the 's' word. Looking at her, he found himself saying the words, "I'm sorry," just loud enough to be heard, for the first time in a long while. But the words were lost on her, as if he had never opened his mouth, because she was not paying him any mind. She was no longer standing beside him. No, Blaire was now kneeling down slowly next to the glass, and there was a look on her face, something he couldn't quite put a finger on. And this Blaire kneeling before him, the one who had gripped his hand tightly and let herself show just barely that she disliked the arrangement expected of them, was so surprising that finally Seth's mask fell just as his glass had.

A look of surprise, embarrassment, and confusion took over his face. He watched her for a long moment, watching as she just stared at the glass, still with a look on her face that he didn't understand. What was she feeling as she stared at the broken pieces? What was she even thinking? Her expression was not calm, cool, and indifferent as always, and yet Seth didn't know what it was. Taking a deep breath, he scrabbled for his mask, managed to slip into another character who was calm and unaffected by this, and twirled his wand to fix his mistake. It was just as the glass pieces gave a small shudder and began to fly back together that he saw Blaire's hand barely out stretch towards it, confusing him and surprising him further. In the next second the glass was fixed and his hand once more, and she was now staring blankly at the spot, and then looking up and meeting his eyes.

He wasn't sure what she saw as she looked at him, but he was sure it was probably a different person than normal, just as he was seeing her a bit differently as well. It would be nothing horribly different--Blaire would probably think little of how he was acting at this point. She would probably not understand, as she looked at him and then slowly stood, that he was peering at her with something close to concern. Or maybe it really was concern; he had a hard time figuring out his emotions and had for a while. Concern for why she had been kneeling there, so engrossed, and concern for what others would think of what he had done, and embarrassment for the whole incident. As the waiter came to take her glass, he slipped his onto it to, wand still in hand as he met Blaire's eyes again. Her words, spoken so softly and forgiving and different, barely register as he stared into her eyes. They had appeared grey before, and they did now. Yet, as he focused on them, he saw that they were not just grey, but green as well. A beautiful green, if he was so inclined to think on it.

Seth felt all of his emotions heighten, and while he kept on the expressionless mask, his eyes sharpened in intensity, the dull blue color being overcome by the piercing blue that only came out when thoughts, emotions, and concentration were high. For a moment he didn't say anything--he just stared into Blaire's eyes and wondered what had just happened, and wondered what was happening. Taking in a small breath, he turned from her and waved his wand at the steps, cleaning them of the champagne in a few seconds, before turning back and looking at her again. His eyes, unknown to him, remained the same sharp, intelligent blue. Glancing her up and down in a swift motion, he flicked his wand once at a small splash on the bottom of her dress, before his gaze connected with hers and he spoke:

"Yes, the ring presentation. I'm positive we can make it quite the enjoyable show for our captured audience," he responded, voice low and tone hidden of any true emotion. It registered vaguely in his mind that at this point, his mask he usually had around Blaire was gone. He was not arrogant, loud, smirking, dim-witted--his other mask, the one to hide the emotions when he was upset, was in place, and while Blaire may have seen it once or twice, he was sure this would be a change. His very words were probably more intelligent and poetic than she had ever heard him speak before.

But he didn't care. For now, he wouldn't correct it. His costume was stuffy, the audience was dull, the script was painful to perform, and right now, he tired thinking of how to act around others, and what his mother would say. And honestly, he tired of having the masks on his face. It only made it hard to breathe.

[blaire]

She’d thrown her own game. She’d basically given up any chance she had at victory tonight, all in one motion—the motion of kneeling. This is what happened when she let herself get involved in her own little world. No matter how natural it felt, no matter how much she needed to escape into her own mind sometimes, even if it tugged on her like a nicotine addiction, Blaire had promised herself that she would stay fully present whenever she was in the midst of society. It was like a vow—a mantle she had taken unto herself. There were no legal or immediate consequences for breaking it, but she would suffer greatly. She had built up walls and frozen the insides, but all that was wasted effort if she just let the guards sleep.

This was part of the secret that Blaire had told no one—not even her own father. It was the thing that she was sure she’d keep to herself forever, and why not? It was no fairytale, and certainly it was not something that she would speak lightly about with the other shimmering women of society, laughing about it over tea and scones. This was a light, superficial world, and the dark nasty things that haunted dreams had no place here. It was more than swept under the rug—it was simply not allowed into their pristine living rooms.

Glass was her weakness. Actually, glass was the inanimate representation of her weakness. Blaire’s mother would remain a pretty confection for all the world—no one would know anything besides her sugary surface if Blaire had anything to do with it. Granted, she had just given Seth a scary amount of insight into her own life, but hopefully he would be like a child with their parents’ books, and he wouldn’t quite know what to do with it all.

When she looked into his eyes, though, they were sharp shards of glass. Bright, intelligent, and stunningly observant. She didn’t like the feeling that he’d caught on to something that was going on. He was supposed to be some dense Quidditch jock with a penchant for loud jokes, and as much as she didn’t like that, this intelligent flashing of his eyes was scaring her more. Thankfully, he turned from her to clean up the spilled champagne; some had even gotten on her dress, and she’d been too self-absorbed to notice. This was why she needed to pull her head out of her own personal snowglobe and focus on the bigger one. If she didn’t she would undoubtedly make a fool of herself in some way, and that just wouldn’t do.

She forced herself to pay rapt attention as he spoke, a red rose absorbing every drop of moisture that the rain bestowed upon it, as some sort of penance for getting lost before. Therefore, she immediately absorbed that he was speaking differently. Oh, it was the same voice, but the volume, the tone, and the cadence were different. He was quieter, for one. Still self-confident, but not broadcasting. No jokes. Blaire looked at him strangely, only allowing the slightest tilt of her eyebrows to betray the fact that she was confused by this.

But the time had come to present the ring, and Blaire took one fleeting glance at her left hand. It was too odd to truly think about the fact that this was the last time it would ever be bare. She was about to be branded with pretty jewels, tattooed with expensive custom-fitted rings to show ownership; there was nothing more than business to this marriage, nothing represented in this ring besides a merger deal taking place on her finger.

No matter how much turmoil she faced in the depths of her own mind, Blaire was a good actress. She was more than capable of putting on a calm face and going through with this, and she didn’t even have to look at her father for urging. However, as some sort of defiant act, she did not wait to get the crowd’s attention either. She simply held out her left hand to Seth with a coolly detached expression on her face. There was too much to digest here, she might as well just not eat.

[seth]

It seemed that both of them were trying to tempt the directors of fate and of their lives tonight. His momentarily slip of hand, resulting in a broken champagne class on the step, and then Blaire's momentarily slip of character, when she knelt before the glass, as if to touch it, or clean it up. Neither of these things were of the norm for this high class society, and Seth found himself confused by this slip up in the smooth play. He was not confused as to why he dropped his glass, of course; he knew why that had happened, even if he did not like that it did. No, the confusion came from Blaire's slip up, which had started and ended at her kneeling for the glass.

While she was back to normal for her now, with the cool expression, the commanding air, and the sense that she was impervious to this all, Seth was not as good as Blaire apparently was at returning to normal. While he did not know that her face was but a mask, it was true that she was better at getting back into character, where as his masks got fumbled somewhere along the way. As they faced each other again, after he had cleaned up his mask, even giving her dress a quick clean to free it of spills, he knew that he was messing up again. For the second time in front of Blaire he was deviating from his normal routine. A hopeful man, a stupid man, would have thought this girl standing beside him would not notice.

Seth was not nearly as mistaken. His only small hope was that his fiancée would move on, ignoring the fact that he was not being his normal arrogant self. After all, he had moved on from her confusing and completely random act of kneeling beside his broken glass, so why shouldn't she return the favor? Then again, Blaire had but only changed for a moment, where as he knew this change of mask would not be going away anytime soon--perhaps it wouldn't stop showing up around Blaire for the rest of the night, even if his emotions did cooperate enough around the other guests to seem his arrogant, happy self.

He mostly got his wish as their eyes met once more. Blaire gave him a look, with eyebrows barely raised above normal height, telling him that what was changing in him was not going unnoticed by her. However, she made no comment towards the way he was acting, and he knew that he could now keep going on, ignoring this little mishap, pretending that everything was as it should be. Pretending that he hadn't dropped the glass, that she hadn't knelt down before it, that he hadn't messed up his performance in any way. In this world, pretending was key, so that the show could always go on. And so it was, as noises began to quiet below them, with the crowd settling once more.

Seth barely had a moment to turn his head, detaching his gaze from the inquiring Blaire to take in the other guests, where her father was helping to quiet the scene, as well as his own father. It was registering in his mind, finally, that it was now time for the ring to be shown, and placed upon his fiancée's left hand, when suddenly he saw movement and turned his face back to Blaire, to see her left hand sticking out in front of him. The crowd was not ready yet to see the ring be placed upon her finger, and would probably not be for another minute or so, yet the look upon her face was practically detached. He knew that she was aware, aware that the crowd wasn't yet organized, and yet she met his eye and did not lower her hand.

Immediately, Seth felt an internal debate pick up inside his own mind, although his face stayed smooth, impassive. His father would not want him to do this yet; his father would want him to wait until all eyes were on them, and then as Blaire had said earlier, make the ring presentation full of flourishes. She obviously was not ready to back up her words, however, and he felt the sudden urge to do as she wished. Why should he always do as his father wished? When did his father ever do as he wished? Whether it be settling down to a woman, or waiting to let him find his own wife some day--Seth did not have the chance to get his way normally. However, right now, he could have a little bit of his way. He could have his small moment of defiance.

Slipping his wand into his pocket carefully, Seth looked down at Blaire's outstretched hand and moved just a little closer, before looking to the waiter waiting higher on the steps, who immediately moved to them, offering on a small tray the ring. It was not in a box, and so Seth carefully reached out to take it with his right hand. He gave the waiter a small nod before turning back to Blaire, the ring pinched between his thumb and forefinger gently. He held it just high enough so that she could see it; white gold, a large sapphire surrounded by tiny white diamonds on both sides. It glinted a little in the light, reflecting back into his eyes, which stayed bright, icy blue as he looked back up to Blaire.

Slowly, with his eyes connected to hers, he took her left hand into his left hand, as tenderly as possible, and then finally lowered his eyes to the hand. Her skin, which he suspected to be flawless, took him by surprise with the few white scars reflecting in the light, just as her engagement ring was. A small frown creased his face as, without even thinking, his thumb traced one of the scars. In a flash of inspiration he thought of the glass, the way she had reached for it, as if knowing what she was doing. Immediately, he felt something click, as if a puzzle piece finally fell into place--Blaire had scars on her hand from glass, and that was why she had reacted oddly. Something had happened...but of course, didn't everyone in this shiny world have secrets? She was surely not an exception.

"Not all pretty, shiny things are safe to touch, Miss Marcoux," he murmured, eyes flashing up to hers again. They held a meaning, a meaning he was sure she would get, at least if he was correct. He usually was. "You should be careful." A pause was all he left before looking back down at her hand, gripped a little bit more tightly in his. His right hand moved in, and he did not know if the crowd was paying attention, nor did he care. He didn't know what Blaire's reaction to his words were, and again, he wasn't exactly interested. Taking a deep breath, in and out slowly, evenly, he slowly slipped the engagement ring onto her finger. His father had shown it to him before, and he had approved, not that it mattered. Not that he really approved that much.

He held her hand a moment longer, looking at it, at the way the ring hugged her finger, before looking back up and catching her eye. The crowd below was applauding as he gently loosened his hold and moved his hand back, her fingers slipping through his before her hand and his were separated again. Seth felt his heart beating fast, and felt his mother's ring placed right over his heart. He swallowed, face blank, as he watched his future wife.

Their future was sealed.