The sound of a match being struck and subsequently lit punctured the dense quiet that had engulfed the slumbering castle that had long since fallen into the safety of dreams. The gentle caress light from the flame licked at the walls teasingly as it bobbed from side to side at the demand of the slow breaths of air dancing past it. The flickering burst of amber light and heat was brought down to the wick that had risen proud and erect out the scarlet wax that had been moulded around it. The flame reached out, curling its soft talons around it, and latched onto it like a small child stretching out into the arms of the more preferred person.
A small smile ghosted the lips of the young woman whose hands had been directing the match and she gently took the match away from the wick. Her eyes still focused on the flame dancing in the cool breeze from the open classroom window, she brought the match up to her lips and blew a small vein of air at the burning tip. The match extinguished immediately and she released it, letting it fall with a barely audible clatter on the work top. She brought took her foot off of the floor and brought it behind her. She leaned back on it, her other foot coming to join its twin, and let her eyes pan around the room, taking in the clusters of candles dotted around, bathing the room in an amber glow.
With her dark curls set around her shoulders and the pale pink chemise flowing gently around her she almost looked innocent. Anyone who had been rather fortunate - or unfortunate as was the case from time to time - to become acquainted with her would know that innocence was not a trait the young Goyle possessed.
Her eyes seemed to dance in a similar fashion to the flames that clung to the wicks of the candles. Slowly she began to move around the room, her feet seemingly only just grazing the floor as she moved. She let her hand fall to the keys of the piano that a great number of candles had been placed upon. As her fingers fell away, the piano began to play gently of its own accord.
Her eyes slipped shut and she twirled in front of the windows that the silvery moon above peeped through. She lifted her arms into the air and danced in time with the music that erupted from the instrument and into the air around her. With an exhale of obvious content, she fell easily into the old steps she’d been taught as a child, her feet changing direction and step every few minutes that passed. In the wee hours of the morning, plagued by insomnia, she descended into her happy place. Amongst the familiarity of the steps and the beauty of the music she found her peace.
by Athena Marianne Goyle Tue Aug 30, 2011 9:29 pm
