White forsythia:

fragment ii

The air turns stale as soon as the combination of ludicurously expensive perfumes fused together. Lights blinding, annoyingly brighter than usual as one stranger after another stepped in the middle of the room. Probably to parade the latest Korrs. I restrain myself from rolling my eyes.

This night has been as plain and boring as it usually was, but I’m required to be here. The king is in the hunt for a succesor and pretentious social gatherings is his forest. His only daughter is the obvious bait. It’s necessary, given that they’re still thinking backwards even at this modern era. Not having an XY chrosome makes me an invalid choice by default so the hunt begins.

I stand in the far left, inching surreptously away from the commotion in the huge hall. I’m never a fan of parties like this. The company is flat, and the food is crap. Atleast the music is not distasteful. John Powell’s Assasin’s Tango seems juxtaposed with the lame ballroom.It resonates in all the corners of the room, as I tiptoed to my fictional freedom.

Fresh air greets me with the tell tale sound of running water as soon as I step out. The fountain has always been my refuge and the garden. Nature is kinder most of the time compared to people. Maybe inteligence does that to us, or it’s just part of our nature. Perhaps I’ll never know since the hunt ends tonight, three months later I’ll get married.

I’m mere human. I have a soul to sell. Being the princess of the empire my father has built does not make me an exception in the buy and sell trade. I’m tired of being sad and angry at that fact so I opt for indifference. Not caring is easier anyway.

I take in all that nature has to offer me with my eyes closed. The smell of the freshly mowed grass, the blooming roses, the moss from the edge of the fountain. The sound of the dancing leaves.

I stop in the middle of the garden, as I will myself to be one with the wind.

Remnants of the echoes of Assasin’s Tango joins my solace as if to remind me that I can’t hide from my fate. Perhaps I’m indeed a weak one for not standing up for what I’ve always wanted. It’s hard to relinquish the priveleges of being a princess even if it comes with a price, but tonight I am one with the wind, no matter what the end game will be.

In my fictitious place of freedom, I choose who I will be with in the recesses of my mind. It’s one of the luxuries I never had. Like how I wanted to be an artist but I’m locked up to be an heiress. In the universe where I live that will always be a fact, but tonight in the company of the wind I am both the heiress and the artist. I am dancing with one I choose, not the one choosen by fate, or by someone more powerful like my father. It’s my own shadow I’m dancing with. It’s not narcissm, it’s creativity. The reflection of my soul and my dead aspirations guiding me.

We get drowned with the music. Me and my imagination. It’s the first step to tango. It usually is. The music is on the third loop and we are able to pick up with it. I embrace my shadow, and the tango starts.

Posture is important, one of my fortes. I’m a princess twenty four seven.

Left forward

Right forward

The rythym starts easy, nothing fancy at first. My imagination is not even strained and it goes on. Until the tricky part comes. How do I a corte without another source of balance?

I stop moving all together. The solace is suddenly soffucating, same as my self entitled freedom. Even the wind stops blowing. Everything stands still as I open my eyes feeling afraid of the solitude all of a sudden. It’s cold to be alone, and obviously I can’t tango. How foolish, I laughed bitterly at myself as I look up.

Inky as always, though the midnight sky looks so much more brighter than usual. The stars seems happy, it makes me envy those things thousands of lightyears away.

“Breathtaking indeed.”

My eyebrows immediately meet in the middle as I look away from the sky. A foreigner boy is looking at me wideeyed. He looks stupid with the big smile plastered in his face. His cute too. He won’t know that though. I have no business with the likes of him, his probably part of the hunt. Why is he ignoring the view above anyway?

“hey! Can I borrow your hand?”

I snort at his pathetic try to flirt. He sounds more feminine than me, I should be crying or something. My left eyebrow rise up as I return his stare. His feautures are really soft, and his eyes are warm. It’s too warm for my comfort, I look away before he can speak with a really feminine voice again. Wow.

“That bad eh? How about your heart can I borrow it, mine is missing, you should check your pocket.”

My face must have contorted into something hilarious because the foreigner in front of me burst out laughing throwing his head back. I just eye him annoyed of his bubbly presence in my calm. He manages to control his laughing fit after a few seconds and his face becomes serious.

Without saying a word, he takes two steps forward in synch with the start of the next song loop so suddenly that I am unable to react.

A perfect corte, then another. It’s almost as if we’ve dance something as complex as tango our whole life, together. It’s quite interesting how this foreigner can dance this well. The smell of sandalwood makes me close my eyes.

His arms are soft and his touch was so gentle. I must be dancing with the wind, so I did. Each movement is fluid, imperfect but it flows freely. The exhilaration makes my breathe hitch, the pounding in my heart follows the beat of assasin’s tango.

Before I now it I am getting dipped down, in a very cliché way as the foreigner guy lean his head too close for my comfort. I want to push him off but I don’t want to fall so I wait impatiently for him to stop this ridiculous.

I really can’t help but punch him hard square in the nose after he let go of me.

Violence is rarely my thing but this foreigner must be asking for that regardless of how good at Tango he is. The tears that starts to appear on the corners of his eyes makes me smile in satisfaction, as I do compulsory curtsy.

He’s back to grinning like a mad man when I look up, and I have to fought the urge to punch him again. This foreigner must be really stupid. Gahh, Krystal! Jung Soojung! You’re a lady not a boxer, Jesus Christ start walking. I scolded myself as I made a move to walk away form the stupid person who is now looking at me like I am one of the wonders of the world.

He looks cuter that way but I have no intention to linger in a place where such nuisance is pestering me. I need peace and quiet, another fictional place of freedom. No matter how well the foreigner blends with the woods and the nature in general, I don’t want to feel comfortable with his presence here.

“A very feisty princess. It’s my honor to meet you fair lady. I am Amber, can I atleast have the chance to touch the top of your hands with my lips. That’s part of the formality thing right? I mean, you don’t want me to borrow it but just one. I promise nothing wet at all. Just peck. Pretty please.”

I turned back to the foreigner unwillingly, blinking numerous times as I look back at the lip biting boy in front of me. My weakness for puppies is starting to resurface and this guy looks like one I wanna pinch his cheeks. It’s not really helping that I like the sound of his name. Amber. It’s suites him honestly. He’s aura is just like the color Amber. It’s light, as I’ve said he blends well with nature, maybe it’s his smell though.

I love sandalwood and the color amber.

“Come on just one, I’m a female too, so no harm done. Yes?”

Ingenious, so this foreigner has the nerve to actually pretend to be a girl? What does he want to prove by that anyway? Is that the new punch line to get to my pants or to be my dad’s heir?

My right hand shoot up.

In my defense I am over thinking. Literaly overthinking about my existence and his femininenity and the fact that his claiming XX chromosome. His reasons for the claim and other things, like why the sky seemed brighter tonight and yeah.

Both our eyes popped out of it’s socket at my sudden movement. Two pairs are trained on her chest. Yes HER indeed, and I wanted to really drown myself in that fountain for the first time in my lonesome existence.

“Oh, that was fast. I’m enamored of you too Ms. Jung but please know it’s my first time so please be gentle.”

On second thought maybe I should drown her instead.