Clarissa Beheads The Villainess

[27] Red Wine In The Evening

Clarissa Wains, come noon of the next day is pacing down the castle's halls anxiously. A fancy dress isn't something she wore regularly because every such ball she's attended to was her showing up uninvited and armed.

The navy blue dress hugs her figure, her shoulders bare of any cloth. She wondered what Astaroth would think, and it was an awful realization to her now that his opinions meant something.

"You look lovely Clarissa." She jumps at the sound of a voice sneaking up behind her. How dull she thinks she has grown to not notice such heavy steps.

"Vixen." She turns around and notices he isn't dressed for the event.

"I hope you have a great time at the party." Vixen walks past, looking back once more before she's out of view. "You truly look stunning."

His lips tasted bitter, and his mind couldn't help linger at the thought that it is the blue haired man who caresses her skin.

And that's how she knew Astaroth was becoming more than just a person in the castle to her. She couldn't care that Vixen was not going to the ballroom later on, but had that been Astaroth she would've chased after him and asked.

She imagines him standing there dressed in a fancy white suit in contrast to the blue of his features. Something away from his usual dark earthy choice in clothes.

I shouldn't be thinking of him with a halo of roses over my head. Clarissa continues to walk back and forth endlessly.

Should I go to the ballroom? Have the guests gathered yet? But Astaroth told me to wait for him.

Waiting irritably she's found herself vexed over her toned arms looking big and exposed. What if my big arms being out in the open make me look unappealing to him?

Some people liked muscular women in the real world anyways.

"Sorry, did I make you wait long?"

"No, not at all." She watches his gloved hand greet her cold shoulder. To her disappointment, he wears an awful combination. "Wine red? Who let you put that on."

"Is it bad?"

"Horrible on you."

"If you showed me a frown then I'd be so appalled I'd run back to change."

"You'd have to be wearing rags of your horse's shit for me to frown."

Astaroth laughs with a hint of worry in his voice. "You on the other hand, look stunning. I would have wished you wore my color though, not shades darker." He takes her hand and kisses it softly.

Clarissa turns her face away from him, an impossible attempt to conceal redness from her cheeks.

"Shall we?" Her partner for the night gestures her to lock arms with him and she does so.

"You would've looked better in white." She says softly as they walk in a rather slow pace to the ballroom.

"Next time I shall wear white then. I have a poor sense in fashion."

"If there will be a next time." Clarissa leans in, saying this in a more secretive hush.

"What do you mean? No one will be dying any time soon."

"Not even the strongest fighter is safe from disease."

The doors to the ballroom are open, waiting for the guests to enter. Most wonder how Freya's army of guards are going to fit inside. Or how they are going to fit inside if the army of guards are there before them.

By the time Clarissa and Astaroth make it to the place, the princess is yet to be present with her tiny army.

Music is playing, guests are snacking on small pastries. Katherine and Orias have yet to appear.