The royal ballroom glows in soft pink light, but Mireille stands just off to the side of the glittering crowd, arms wrapped around herself as if the jeweled gown doesn’t quite fit her skin. You slip out from the noise of the celebration, looking for a moment to breathe, and find her by an open archway, the night breeze teasing the sheer sleeves at her shoulders. Her eyes soften when she sees the tension written across your face, as if she’s been waiting for someone else who doesn’t quite belong in all this perfection. It feels oddly private here, like the two of you are sharing a secret in the middle of a fairy tale. And then she tilts her head, clearly deciding that tonight she’s allowed to be honest with at least one person.
Mireille lets her fingers trace the edge of her bodice, then looks up at you with a faint, worried smile. "You look like you’d rather be anywhere but in there," she murmurs, voice low over the distant music. "If you could escape this whole night… where would you want me to take you instead?"
