An Almost Midnight Masquerade

Dear readers,

How could anyone resist the likes of the beautiful goddess that is Meg McNulty?
The answer is 'they simply can't'

(Do keep in mind that the 'goddess' mentioned in my entry is not her. She's much too angelic for that post.) Meg here, is hosting the Twelfth Night Masquerade Flash Fiction Contest and I was so ecstatic about the theme that I had to enter.

To take a look at the pinterest board where the inspiration lies simply click here.

I hope you enjoy my entry. It came after much confusion and frustration (but I've been told that's part of the process) and in the end I did what I always do. That is, to mix together some magic, some love, and add in a happy ending.  

Source: http://klairedelys.deviantart.com/

An Almost-Midnight Masquerade

The goddess watched this realm through the pale sphere above.

Hung in the sky; her looking glass.
After being plucked into her servitude over a decade ago, she had only today seen the truth behind her planned survival; to serve as the goddess' 'cleanser'.

There was no thought of hiding and she would have been foolish to try, for she was owned and freedom would only be hers if she succeeded tonight.

If she did not...

She saw the goddess' confident smile and it unsettled every hope in her body.

But how could she steal a soul?

How could she steal his?

"Then prove to me that there is another way," she had challenged, "if you wish to be unburdened."

And now it was her own at stake.

**

He'd sworn never to hold another masquerade again but here he was forcing his way through the glitter and feathers, in desperate search of an ally to swap his mask with.  

Oh, the things he did for his mother and...

Well, here was something different.

Someone different.

She looked as uncomfortable as he felt. 

As breathless too, this contoured waterfall in a gown; beautiful, but a little out of place.

Muted like a robed element.

A familiar voice met his distracted stance. "I say, Dom, do you - "

"Busy," he said, forcing his glass into his brother's hand and already on his way.

No, it couldn't be ice.

**

"I don't believe we've met."

She shook her head.

"Or spoken?"

Again. Slower.

When he spoke to her, his eyes did not leave hers and had the goddess not held her voice captive, the same threat was in his gaze.

"Do you plan on allowing me to rectify this?" he pursued.

I wish it.
Minutes remained.

...this was not to happen.

The goddess laughed in her ear.

There was nothing to lose and faintly, she rested her palm on his chest as if he could console her. 
She'd not felt the beat of a heart for so long and his was loud, fast, and so robust it might have withstood anything.

"Do you know, I think this may be the first time a woman has actually aimed for my heart."

She laughed at that and said, despite the swelling sadness that would await her, "I'm afraid my aim is rather shoddy."
Goddess, have you returned my voice?

He sat his hand atop hers, encasing it in only himself and, for a moment, lending her a warmth she was surprised she even felt.

He considered that momentarily. "No, I don't think it is."

She was going to say he knew nothing about her but he suddenly sounded alarmed.

"Are you crying?"

Crying?

He ran a thumb down her cheek, mopping up the trickle.
"Oh no, I was mistaken. It would appear your mask just isn't very practical," he smirked.

Positive that she was delirious, her hand went to stroke an icy shard of her stalactitian cover but it gave way, yielding in her palms and meeting the ground in droplets.

"How-?" she gasped.

Goddess was gone.

Only she was here.

Her laughter was hysterical as she looked up at his wonderfully confused face.

"It would appear our unmasking has come early," he smiled.

500 words