Lt. Helga Sinclair (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
notasuggestion) wrote2010-07-13 03:51 am
notasuggestion) wrote2010-07-13 03:51 am
- One, Two, Three -
Helga Sinclair
Atlantis: The Lost Empire
850 words
Three dances on the eve of a wedding.
Husband and wife glided across the floor, their rise and fall perfectly timed with the lilting waltz. The man, impeccably clad in a military dress uniform, held the woman with all due propriety. One hand cupped hers while the other rested against her shoulder blade. Her hand barely touched his shoulder. The bottom of the sleek white gown brushed the floor with every movement. They looked in opposite directions, as form dictated, but each glanced at the other in turn.
Every eye remained trained on the newlyweds. The sunlight and electric lights caught the woman’s jewelry and made the gems sparkle. The diamonds on her left finger, right wrist, and neck flashed as she craned her head and revealed more of her pale throat. The well-wishers saw the couple’s lips part just slightly, but the words were too hushed to be heard. Still, nearly every soul present knew the pair was whispering sweet nothings to one another.
“You promised.”
“Love, I didn’t—”
“You told me that wouldn’t be in the vows.”
“I told the bishop.”
“You’re lying.”
“You know how men like that are. Slaves to tradition.”
“I should have refused to say it.”
“Love.”
“I should have corrected him.”
“That would have ruined the ceremony.”
“And what I want isn’t more important?”
“Helga—”
“Consider your next words very carefully, Christopher.”
“You shouldn’t worry, love.”
Before the woman could reply, her husband bent his head to lightly kiss her as the music died away. He moved away a moment later to bow to his mother. As she took his hand, a man touched the younger woman’s arm.
Helga smiled and allowed herself to be swept into the next dance. Her partner wore a formal military uniform like her husband but with more decoration. His silver hair lent him a distinguished air. Once of her hands rested in his palm while the other curled around his shoulder. His hand gently touched the middle of her back, his fingers spread. He led his daughter through the steps, and she followed him with ease. She looked over his shoulder and he over hers.
“You look beautiful.”
“All Elaine’s work.”
“Your mother is still giddy. She never thought you’d get married.”
“I really didn’t plan on it.”
“Oh, I know, my dear. You were always quite vocal.”
“I suppose I was, wasn’t I?”
“What changed your mind?”
“There’s just something special about him, I suppose.”
“As long as you’re happy. That’s all I care about.”
The major chuckled and leaned in to kiss her forehead as the band quieted again. He relinquished his hold on her, and the bride began to step away from the dance floor. However, someone else tapped her shoulder. She forced a smile as she turned, but it faltered when she saw a third man in Army dress blues. He was older than her husband, younger than her father, and his insignia marked him as a captain. He extended his hand to her, and she thought she saw a challenge in his smile. She put her hand in his.
He spun her once, effortlessly, and her hand settled snugly against his. She gripped his arm while his firm hand pressed against the small of her back to draw her nearer. They began their waltz when the music resumed but needed no count or even a beat. Every step matched, as if together by instinct rather than merely movement at the same time. Neither even thought about breaking eye contact.
“White doesn’t suit you, Sinclair.”
“Jenkins.”
“Of course.”
“Making mistakes isn’t like you, Captain.”
“It was a rather brief engagement.”
“Why should love wait?”
“You forget I know you. The only thing you love are those diamonds of yours.”
“They are rather fetching, aren’t they?”
“You’ve inspired quite a bit of gossip.”
“Old women enjoy gossip. Old men too. Particularly when it isn’t true.”
“Is it true?”
“Is what true?”
“That the good lieutenant may be guilty of a youthful indiscretion.”
“Not with me. He’s barely touched me.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“He’s kissed me twice. Nothing more.”
“Now that is a crime. A proper man shouldn’t be able to keep his hands off you.”
“You flatter me, Captain.”
“I wouldn’t refuse an invitation to do more than that.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
“Do.”
She tilted her head as the music faded. It wasn’t the same as when they had started. Somehow, they had danced through at least two songs. She smirked faintly at her last partner before she finally retired to the table where her mother waited for her with Christopher’s mother. The bride took a drink of water as her mother animatedly related some story of her childhood or another. Or perhaps she was explaining to her daughter’s new mother-in-law that the captain was a friend of the family. She didn’t particularly care.
Christopher joined them shortly, and Helga barely listened to what he said. He touched her hand, and she smiled at him. All she could do was wait and pray for the reception to be over so the wedding night could begin.
Atlantis: The Lost Empire
850 words
Three dances on the eve of a wedding.
Husband and wife glided across the floor, their rise and fall perfectly timed with the lilting waltz. The man, impeccably clad in a military dress uniform, held the woman with all due propriety. One hand cupped hers while the other rested against her shoulder blade. Her hand barely touched his shoulder. The bottom of the sleek white gown brushed the floor with every movement. They looked in opposite directions, as form dictated, but each glanced at the other in turn.
Every eye remained trained on the newlyweds. The sunlight and electric lights caught the woman’s jewelry and made the gems sparkle. The diamonds on her left finger, right wrist, and neck flashed as she craned her head and revealed more of her pale throat. The well-wishers saw the couple’s lips part just slightly, but the words were too hushed to be heard. Still, nearly every soul present knew the pair was whispering sweet nothings to one another.
“You promised.”
“Love, I didn’t—”
“You told me that wouldn’t be in the vows.”
“I told the bishop.”
“You’re lying.”
“You know how men like that are. Slaves to tradition.”
“I should have refused to say it.”
“Love.”
“I should have corrected him.”
“That would have ruined the ceremony.”
“And what I want isn’t more important?”
“Helga—”
“Consider your next words very carefully, Christopher.”
“You shouldn’t worry, love.”
Before the woman could reply, her husband bent his head to lightly kiss her as the music died away. He moved away a moment later to bow to his mother. As she took his hand, a man touched the younger woman’s arm.
Helga smiled and allowed herself to be swept into the next dance. Her partner wore a formal military uniform like her husband but with more decoration. His silver hair lent him a distinguished air. Once of her hands rested in his palm while the other curled around his shoulder. His hand gently touched the middle of her back, his fingers spread. He led his daughter through the steps, and she followed him with ease. She looked over his shoulder and he over hers.
“You look beautiful.”
“All Elaine’s work.”
“Your mother is still giddy. She never thought you’d get married.”
“I really didn’t plan on it.”
“Oh, I know, my dear. You were always quite vocal.”
“I suppose I was, wasn’t I?”
“What changed your mind?”
“There’s just something special about him, I suppose.”
“As long as you’re happy. That’s all I care about.”
The major chuckled and leaned in to kiss her forehead as the band quieted again. He relinquished his hold on her, and the bride began to step away from the dance floor. However, someone else tapped her shoulder. She forced a smile as she turned, but it faltered when she saw a third man in Army dress blues. He was older than her husband, younger than her father, and his insignia marked him as a captain. He extended his hand to her, and she thought she saw a challenge in his smile. She put her hand in his.
He spun her once, effortlessly, and her hand settled snugly against his. She gripped his arm while his firm hand pressed against the small of her back to draw her nearer. They began their waltz when the music resumed but needed no count or even a beat. Every step matched, as if together by instinct rather than merely movement at the same time. Neither even thought about breaking eye contact.
“White doesn’t suit you, Sinclair.”
“Jenkins.”
“Of course.”
“Making mistakes isn’t like you, Captain.”
“It was a rather brief engagement.”
“Why should love wait?”
“You forget I know you. The only thing you love are those diamonds of yours.”
“They are rather fetching, aren’t they?”
“You’ve inspired quite a bit of gossip.”
“Old women enjoy gossip. Old men too. Particularly when it isn’t true.”
“Is it true?”
“Is what true?”
“That the good lieutenant may be guilty of a youthful indiscretion.”
“Not with me. He’s barely touched me.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“He’s kissed me twice. Nothing more.”
“Now that is a crime. A proper man shouldn’t be able to keep his hands off you.”
“You flatter me, Captain.”
“I wouldn’t refuse an invitation to do more than that.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
“Do.”
She tilted her head as the music faded. It wasn’t the same as when they had started. Somehow, they had danced through at least two songs. She smirked faintly at her last partner before she finally retired to the table where her mother waited for her with Christopher’s mother. The bride took a drink of water as her mother animatedly related some story of her childhood or another. Or perhaps she was explaining to her daughter’s new mother-in-law that the captain was a friend of the family. She didn’t particularly care.
Christopher joined them shortly, and Helga barely listened to what he said. He touched her hand, and she smiled at him. All she could do was wait and pray for the reception to be over so the wedding night could begin.