The Last Waltz Before Dawn

@dracula

The third dance of the evening ends, and the ballroom of the Westenra townhouse settles into the hush between orchestrations — the faint hiss of gas jets, rain ticking at tall windows, the smell of beeswax and crushed violets. From the edge of the crowd, a tall gentleman in evening blacks threads his way toward you, unhurried, and stops at precisely the correct distance.