The ball was enchanting.

The orchestra played wonderfully in time with the beat of feet upon the floor. Merriment was showcased in every face as the man moved through the crowd like water. One thing he took stock in was eyes. Shades of mischief and scandal, others innocence and endearment. Greens and blues and hues that preserved knowledge of thousands of years.

The man’s met with his favorite. Dark, stormy grey eyes raged across the dance floor as she danced with another gentleman. For a brief moment their eyes locked. Her’s a bout of curiosity, his a delicate mystery. The man, caught up in the crowd, was pulled into the frivolous dance by another young gentleman and the world began to spin as he did. Eyes passed. Brown, green, hazel, amber, sky, but not the storm. His storm. He felt a pulling in his gut. He would have that storm.

He chatted quietly with many young ladies as he inquired after the beautiful flower with eyes of stone. Many of the young ladies complimented her character. She was of humble origin: a niece to a count from a far away country. Stuck here as her uncle had business.

Then the dance slowed and their gazes met once more as their hands intertwined. They separated and bows and curtsies were exchanged. The music had become a slow drawl as they moved in tide with one another. Bated breath stole glances at each other. The woman was beautiful, ivory skin tinted with a soft blush. Raven hair shimmered underneath the candle lit chandeliers. And those grey eyes glinted. The man was tall and pale. A charming smile painted his lips and a crooked nose beckoned intrigue. A slight limp as he twirled her around.

After the set the man offered her his arm. Together they set off for a turn about the garden. Red roses gleamed in the moonlight and the night air was cool against their flushed faces.

On the edge of the garden he turned to face her

He studied her face more openly in the secluded section of the garden. Her lips were heart shaped and turned up in an ever present smile. Thick lashes rimmed those breathtaking eyes. Her dress was elegant and her corset made a lovely silhouette. A gold layered necklace adorned her collar bones. The gold was fitted and looked as if it could choke her.

His hands made a better job of it. She didn’t have much time to struggle before the breath was robbed from her lungs taking the life with it. He lowered her to the ground. The starry sky reflected in her glassy eyes.

Gorgeous even in death.

He gingerly dragged her to where he’d hid his supplies under the thorny rose bushes. Carefully he removed the calmed storms. Setting them in a foul smelling liquid and storing them next to seven other pairs. He closed her empty eye sockets.

The storm was his.