A waft of roses swept through the breakfast nook. Candlelight shone from long candles on the walls, illuminating most of the room, but little spaces in between candles on the perimeter were filled with dark voids of what could only be nothingness. A clear vase sat on the table with a black satin ribbon tied around it, the vase filled with deep red roses.
Lord Demetrius Gulval sat on the breakfast nook bench, reading a book, for nothing is more attractive than a man reading a book. And Lord Demetrius knew this. Although there was no one around to impress, he was always happy to impress himself. And who knows? Maybe he had a stalker. He felt his cheeks flush with the excitement of the thought of someone watching him.
Carmilla Cornelly walked in and tossed a newspaper over his book. “Care to explain this, Lord Demetrius?” she demanded, pointing at an article.
“Local Mysterious Man Caught Staring at Men Through Opera Glasses at Opera,” Lord Demetrius read and chuckled. A newspaper article about him? Someone was paying attention to him?
Carmilla frowned, “Lord Demetrius, this is serious! You shouldn’t be prancing around town drawing attention to yourself—”
“Oh shut pan, Carmilla! Is it improper for one to enjoy oneself at the opera?” Lord Demetrius slightly pouted as he traced the petals of a rose in the vase. He felt himself breathe a little faster with excitement from the exasperation of his statement.
“It is, if you’re incapable of upkeeping a reasonably decent appearance.” Carmilla’s eyes narrowed at Lord Demetrius, as he playfully stroked the rose, in an obvious attempt to appear modest yet elegant. A usual performance of his—the attempt, that is. He surely fools many with it, but certainly not Carmilla.
“Who even goes to operas these days, anyway?” Carmella said, side-eyeing Lord Demetrius from the end of the table. “And opera glasses? Use the iPhone I gave you. If you’re going to be a creep, you might as well be a modern one.”
Lord Demetrius scoffed. “It’s about elegance, my sweet Carmilla. Indulge me, what is more distinguished: An iPhone or hand crafted opera glasses, engraved by a dear friend of mine? Besides, if I’m going to use a phone, I prefer my Blackberry Tour 9630.”
A knock at the door. Lord Demetrius rises from the bench, dusts off his trousers, and strides down the dark hallway to the black engraved door. He places his hand on the doorknob thoughtfully, and pulls the door open.
“Greetings, sir,” a tall, thin young man stood upon Lord Demetrius—his dark hair was thinning, but combed back to hide its unfortunate demise. Lord Demetrius attempted to conceal his shudder. What would he do if he was bald? Jump off Kingston’s Bridge, that’s what. There’s no use in being alive if one cannot be beautiful, at least according to Lord Demetrius. His perception of beauty, that is. Don’t get the wrong idea. We support bald people here—we are not associated with Lord Demetrius.
Lord Demetrius smiled widely, showing his fangs, with a charm that could make a nun swoon. “Greetings, and how can I be of service to you?”
“Why,” the man shuffled his feet while keeping eye contact with Lord Demetrius, not to be polite, but because he couldn’t look away. He swallowed audibly, “I’m selling tickets to my theater’s play tonight at 7:00. We’re putting on The Picture of Dorian Gray.”
“Oh! That sounds splendid. I love classics. Now, Carmilla!” Lord Demetrius called behind him, “Would you like to go to a play to-night? Oh, you wouldn’t happen to have two tickets would you? I would desire to bring along my sweet Carmilla,” Lord Demetrius pleaded.
“Oh I have plenty of tickets, please buy as many as you’d like,” the young man cried a little too desperately. Lord Demetrius appreciated his dedication to his practice.
“Oh! Goodness! Many thanks. I’ll just take two tickets,” Lord Demetrius beamed.
“Of course, that will be twenty dollars, sir,” the actor said, pulling out two tickets from his fanny pack.
“Splendid! Thank you, young sir. Farewell, now,” Lord Demetrius shut the door abruptly. For when someone is of no longer use, they must go.
Lord Demetrius spun around to Camilla, his black and purple embroidered dress coat twirling around him as he came to a stop. “Carmilla, darling, you are going to join me for a play tonight, and you will enjoy yourself.” His ruby eyes sparkled as he leaned into Carmilla, watching her cheeks flush when his face stopped before hers.
“Why must you always be like this, Lord Demetrius,” she turned away, not giving him the attention he wanted.
“Like what, darling?” Lord Demetrius smiled, pulling his coat cuffs down.
Carmilla huffed, “You know…” She darted her eyes towards Lord Demetrius, and he grinned widely. “Ugh alright. I will go to the play with you, but I want to decide how I am going to dress.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Lord Demetrius flung his hand upon his forehead. “Oh! That’s no fun! Fine. Well, we mustn’t wait much longer. Go get ready—I will meet you in the foyer in an hour.” He turned around and strode down the shadowed hallway, leaving Carmilla to decide what to wear, or rather what ensemble would embarrass Lord Demetrius the least.
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Carmilla walked to her room down the corridor, candles illuminating her plain figure. She turned into her bedroom, decorated with a cream colored wall paper with dusty pink roses in vertical lines tangled in vines. A cream colored vanity sat next to her cream colored bed which sat next to her cream colored wardrobe. By god woman, get a can of paint, would you?
She approached her wardrobe, assessing her variety of choices, “Hmm let’s see here,” she started flipping through each dress one by one, “Cream, off-white, eggshell, ivory, seashell, oooo beige.” She stopped and pulled out a long beige dress with short puffed sleeves and buttons all along the front—just like every other dress she owns. “Oh it’s just perfect, and Lord Demetrius will be sure to love it as well,” Carmilla swooned.
Carmilla threw her dress on and looked in her vanity mirror to contemplate whether or not she wanted to put on makeup, not that it would make much of a difference. The only makeup she had was concealer, clear mascara, and chapstick (if you even count that as makeup). She had no dark circles under her eyes, for she always slept well, and although she washed her face with a bar of soap she found at the dollar store, her skin was flawless. If only everyone else was as lucky. And as for the clear mascara? Does that actually do anything? Or is it just marketed to the “clean girls” so they feel like they are wearing makeup while they look exactly the same? All Carmilla knew is that it seemed to make her lashes a little more defined, so she put it on when she really wanted to impress someone.
Carmilla decided no makeup. She was going natural today. There was no one to impress at a play—the only people who go to plays are old people and theater nerds, neither of which are people she wanted to be associated with.
Carmilla packed up her dusty rose colored purse with a little pack of tissues, a small notebook, and a pen just in case she got bored. This purse was a gift from Lord Demetrius. “It’s a beautiful color that goes with every single other piece of clothing you have,” he explained when he gave it to her. “It does not match my eggshell dress”, she thought when she received it. Oh dear, Carmilla.
Carmilla took her purse and headed to the foyer, and sat on one of the scarlet velvet chairs. She expected to be there for some time. “I better take out my notebook and write, so I have something to do,” she thought. She starts writing about her day, and about how long Lord Demetrius takes to get ready.
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Down the hallway and across the hall sat Lord Demetrius’ sleeping quarters. You entered through an arched doorway, with dark mahogany double doors engraved with roses, ivy, and the quote, “The next transition of his soul was to exquisite villainy.” Whenever someone asked Lord Demetrius about this quote, he giggled.
“Is this talking about you, or-” they would ask nervously.
Lord Demetrius would chortle then immediately frown. “It’s a quote from a book, silly. You must let me indulge in my trifling pleasures.”
Back in his room, long, scarlet velvet curtains hung in front of the windows, shielding all light from coming in. Black sheer fabric hung from his tall bed frame, hiding his enclosure from the world. Candles sat all along the walls and his black vanity, as his room was egregiously dark. Those velvet curtains kept all of the light out. His black decor was not helping.
Lord Demetrius walked into his walk-in closet—truly the best invention yet in his opinion. He was unfathomed by it when it was first introduced to him in the 1950s. Now he can own even more clothes? How splendid. How magnificent.
Now there were many options to wear to the play tonight—and not like Carmella’s options. No, these options were actually different.
Lord Demetrius strode down the line of trousers he owned. What was the mood tonight? A classy black? A romantic rouge? Or perhaps take a fashionable risk with an enchanting emerald?
He pulled out a pair of red and black thinly striped trousers, and studied them. “Yes, these will do nicely,” he said. He already knew what he was going to wear for his top—a plain white button up with a winged tip collar. With that already being decided, he glided down the dim closet to his dress coats. “Now perhaps a long black dress coat with a red cravat?” Lord Demetrius shuffled his hands to his black dress coat, and pulled out his red cravat from where all of his cravats are displayed upon the door of the closet.
“And of course I must wear my black oxfords.” He twirled around to the shelves where his shoes sat, and pulled out his black oxfords. “Oh, splendid. Carmilla will be charmed.”
Lord Demetrius gracefully put on his ensemble, and then confirmed his decisions in his full length mirror. His cheeks flushed from his own enchanting aura. “This is it!” he thought. He rushed out the door to meet Carmilla.
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“La la la!” Lord Demetrius sang, skipping down the hallway.
“Oh god,” Carmilla thought as she looked up.
“Oh Carmilla,” Lord Demetrius crooned as he came to a halt before her, “You look absolutely darling!”
Carmilla darted her eyes away from Lord Demetrius. As histrionic as Lord Demetrius could be, a compliment from him was always a treat. Carmilla caught her rude behavior and made eye contact with Lord Demetrius.
“Thank you, I appreciate it. You don’t think this dress is too much?” she asked.
Lord Demetrius beamed. “Not at all! It brings out your…” he scanned Carmilla’s being for something that complimented the beige shade of her dress, finding nothing, “It brings out your wonderful personality! Nothing tops it!”
Carmilla grinned. And you think a Lord Demetrius grin is charming, a Carmilla one is just as much, probably because they are a lot more rare. Lord Demetrius proudly took this victory, and mentally added a point to his “I’m a good person” tally that he started today, which now had two points. The first point is from not commenting on the theater boy’s receding hairline out loud in front of him—I’m not sure if that’s much of a “good deed” Lord Demetrius…
“Well, off we go then!” Lord Demetrius chimed.
And off they went—to the theater!