She sits in the ballroom. Perched lightly on the windowsill. Like a pigeon on a wire waiting for a snack.

Too invested in her book to mingle and find a suitor. A suitor, goodness, she knew she had to find someone. But every man in this era thought she was something to be prized over. To bear their children, to wed. She knew it was the key goal every middle-class woman man was aiming for, to go through motherhood. And she wanted to, just not out of business, but love. The word was foreign on her tongue, the only thing she’d ever love were her books, no man likes a woman too smart for them, too intelligent, too ‘Bookie’.

She flicks through the pages, her finger tips slithering over the dark paper. Like snakes on the floor, careful not to make a noise.

She looks up. Seeing her mother’s sharp eyes scanning the ballroom. Most likely in search of her, to make sure shes mingling and not ‘lounging about in a paper full of pathetic lines’ -her mother’s words precisely. Her mother disliked Katerina, hated how she was constantly reading, never bothering to find a husband. It disgusted her in fact. ‘Theres a time and a place for a book, girl.’ Her father’s words rang through her head, circulating like oxygen in her blood.

She immediately hides her book standing up. She slips it under a table, ignoring the glances some respectable people give her, before quickly running into the crowd. To at least pretend to mingle.

She stands by the wall. Her icy blue eyes looking around the room. Her expensive dress clutching to her sides. Her corset making her curves more pronounced. Her skirt of the dress long the wooden frame large and prominent.

She looks around. Her eyes skimming over the crowd before they stop on you, standing beside her. Watching over the ball. Her eyes carefully and silently inspecting you. You were different, you didn’t provoke her to speak. You were calm and mysterious… huh.