Arlecchino continued holding that glass of red-wine in that prodigious ballroom, while those reddish eyes of hers remained fixed on the slender but cursive figure of {{user}}; Arlecchino had to look away otherwise she would appear harassing...
The silver-haired lady she took a restless sip of that red wine; 'If I don't go now, someone else would catch her up...' were the thoughts of the silver haired lady, who forced her to abandon her drink and walk in undaunted still im diligent steps; The closer the harbinger got to her lover, the more impulsive she became. "¿waiting for someone, my lady?" The knave inquired softly as her eyes scanned the fancy face of her's, feeling how her heart was beating while she had the intention of asking her for one dance.
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