Dinner was... Fascinating. However, I can't separate my thoughts from my encounter with the bride like cat and the odd man with reality. The red big lobster set in front of me is of the finest and greatest but, one moment I playing with my fork and the next I'm eating like a hybrid craving for blood. So you see, I get distracted very easily. Fancy sandwiches, half-cut fishes knitted with needles which have the general meal in one nice shape, macaroons. There's so much to try and the clock has only hit eight!
But, I remember I am suppose to have tea after dinner with the Queen. And I really can't afford to ruin something as important as this; it's like a first impression. I eat as little as possible and try to pick the appropriate foods that end you up with the minnimum of grotesque breath effects. There's lemonade, red punch, definetly alchohal and other weird stuff I am not considering to taste, for it seems dreadful. It's like an addiction, because most people who manage to drink one glass of it, continue on.
People laugh and giggle, acknowledge each other. When you look at it from the outside as a complete stranger, all of this is ridiculous and ever if you come upon this stranger you should be emberrased of being a part of such a stupid and shameful thing. It's like a bad immortal game. This is not sinful. It's just a total waste when we could be doing other worthy things.
People have been preparing for this party for months and finally it's audience are here to enjoy it's little show in which they have worked so hard on. Fearing what will go wrong and if it's likable or perfect. And after were gone, they will have to clean up our mess and they won't even have to think it, their face will read (and they wont even think this way): What kind of pigs are these? This is how much the people of this isolated city have gotten out of control.
"So I heard you will be studying abroad this coming year?" Nazata, the daughter of Marshall (my father's coworker), who is a year older than me, says.
"Never thought about it." I tell her as I draw close to her ear.
"Fake rumors are plenty in this society, don't you think so? Specially when not everyone is seen out as plenty often as others." She insists, hinting at something. Her voice is somewhat blocked from the quartet's beautiful music, but if I pay too much attention to them I will get a headache and go mad.
"Ha ha. So you wouldn't happen to be dating or meeting with anyone?"
"With who in particular?"
"Oh a boy, of course. You silly" She nudges me.
"Oh, but there's so many! With whom in particular do you mean?" I push her, smiling flirtatiously.
She hesitates for a moment, but seeing no way around it and no other way to learn if I am dating this guys of hers, whispers in my ear, " Madison Jackson." A very simple name it sounds, I don't see how ever a name like that should be passed from the mouth of a Lady.
People in here inherit articles, like Lady, Lord, Monsieur, Madame, Mademoiselle, and there's more I can't name. If he has no article then... "Madison Jackson the Eight." She finishes. Then, either he is a bastard or an Ancient Descendant. Which he is an Ancient Descendant.
The Ancients aren't out often, just rarely, almost never. They are disconnected with the world really, and have very private and individual lives. No one knows them much, only that they are very rich and powerful. Except it's male youngsters are quiete out-going with their fancy ways and ladies. I have to say that they are also impassively attractive, mostly made up of blonds. But, there's one boy with brown hair. Which makes him the unique one, standing out from the rest of the pack.
"Nope." I tell her and she is so releaved that she looks like she can finally enjoy this party completely now.
In an hour or so, when everyone seems done with their countless of different meals and still lusting for more, the Servants, as I told you before with their full-white suits, gets rid of the food just as they had sprinkled the food on the long rows of gold carved wooden tables. They replace the old silver trays with new ones that include our breathtaking desserts. New beautifully carved China plates and cups with artwork of gold lines lay upon us, only waiting to be smudged by food.
Sadly, flowers in this plate, at this setting would seem so childish and poor. And maybe just too innocent. I am assuming now is the time to go up to have tea with the Queen. I walk up the stairs while everyone is busy laughing hilariously. Such a loud crowd. You could think that they were just laughing non-stop because each other's laughter just sounds funny to each other.
"Ah, Veronica." The Queen says. as soon as I'm in her sight.
"Yes, I'm here."
"Take a seat." I do as she says.
"How are you fair Lady enjoying your party tonight?"
"My pleasure, it wouldn't have come to this at all without your requests."
"Oh, but we are such close friends we could pass as families." She gives a though laugh combined with a blink.
"Yes, yes." There's a cup of warm tea in her hand, her back straight as a wall. She is big, a little fat with a chubby small double chin.
"Would you mind to have some?"
"Oh, yes please." She waves as if she's waving away a fly, and a servant right by her side pours tea into a cup that had been set in front of me. 'Thank you' would be no serene word here.
"Well, now you shall be of a grown up."
"Yes, my Queen."
"A girl like you- You should know better. If you were my daughter you would've been shipped off to the Prince of Sfairnia forth the night of today. But, sadly you are not. And he would have been in this party. But, he is not. I suggest you take life seriously from now on and become a lady. And forget the demon you were when you were a child and..." She whispers now, "-most importantly don't let the people remind you of those days. Make them forget." I am startled and taken aback by her confrontation, my eyes are watery.
"Now you must be strong Deary," she says when I start shaking without knowing, and I stop almost immediately. She looks as if she's going to put an arm around me, but I creep away.
"Have you tried one of this?" She asks, holding up a small glass with almost clear orange liquid.
"Oh my gawd, you need to try it! You are allowed by the law now, since you're fifteen."
"I surely will." I try to smile.
"It dissolves the food in your tummy to small bits, making you have 74% more space," she blinks. "So you yearn for all these gracious castles of banana-lime breads all night!" She gives a laugh, a stranger can mistake for the devils'.
When I go downstairs to join the rest of the party, the Servants bring in my enormous five stories tall and eight layered cake. I smile the widest, but it's the biggest of fakes. But, everyone buys it, so it's alright. I can feel Father glance at me, but I dare not to look his way. It's so hard. Trying to look away.
One of the servants hands me a knife tied to a bow with pink ribbon. Pink. Great. I hardly notice when they start to clap and sing the traditional song of the 'Fifteen Year' and how many tears and 'awwwws' are passed. It all an act of fame. Did you know that the word Fame consists of 'house of ill fame' from Middle English? It surely is a house of ill fame.
I cut a piece of the cake and the little kids that are in front run towards me and grab balls of cake from the bottom of the cake layers, where their little hands could reach, and start having a cake fight. I laugh and enjoy it. Tradition. They throw it everywhere of the Palace, a once in a lifetime thing. The little shy girls rub the sticky stuff on my dress and legs, the old people so old they can't retreat to safety son enough. After all, these are the memories we won't forget. I later discover that the cake has every flavor there possibly ever is.
Then, there is the dances that take up another hour. Every being is so tired and sweaty that they collapse right in the floor. They teach me the dances which are joyful with the music, almost bringing bliss. And then, there are the boys' and girls' dance, which I do not participate in. Two boys come and ask me if I would like to dance with them, but I refuse each one by saying that I don't feel quiet well, but ill.
The last dance is of Gentlemen Vs. Gentlewomen. Girls of all ages line up in a straight but flawful fancy path, and the boys in the left, facing them. Oh most of them look so handsomely shy and adorable! Blushing nonstop, the girls don't look that nervous or excited. -But, well yes, actually, the girls do look excited.
By the third round of dancing and showing off to the opposing gender, mother whispers to me how such a bad luck and a terrible manner this is that I haven't danced at all this night. So, I set my toes on the dance floor and dance with a random and creepy guy without a conversation, pretending I didn't hear him from the music twice, and only smiling.
The rest of the night I truly enjoy, but at the same time enjoy by anger and madness of the Queens' words. I know it's anger now, but when daylight comes, it will be sadness. Whatever. The party goes on for a good two more hours past midnight. I will never have puked this much in my whole life combined. I learn this orange liquids name is 'Travia', which comes from the word trouble. Yes, Travia is very troubling, specially most commonly known for causing digestive troubles! And more. I eat and eat from the gracious and most glorious of what the world ever has to offer. After all, I may never get to do this again. Enjoyment may sometimes come only once in life.