Obscure Nights: Rogue Moon

Everything was shattering to pieces before Luscziella Morgana Queensley; time stopped and it was then and there that she was guaranteed to think that it was all over. It was done, she had died at this very moment. Breathing has become a struggle, a chore, as she did everything in her power not to heave and make a sound, whilst she desperately tried to take air in on her body despite feeling like a dead woman standing. The bodice of the ruby red dress that seemed to flow beautifully, that made her feel like she was a jewel just a few moments ago now felt like shackles and bindings that struggled to strangulate every inch of her life away as the moment still refused to dawn upon her. Her mind struggled to accept? Perhaps escape? To bargain her way into anything but recognizing the very scene before her. Reality was poignant however, and this very second felt so stretched to an eternity as she finally realized the sounds around her; the gut wrenching shouts of revelry around her as she realizes with a sickening thought that it felt like the world was rejoicing at the very notion and idea, at the very moment and every second of the death comparable pain that suffused her entire being, body, heart and soul in that very moment. Words of gratitude and congratulations buzzed around her, and the soft music coming from the orchestra seemed to have resonated with the shattering of her heart as its melodies ascended with joy and celebration of the very truth she denies is happening. Ever so slow, lashes crusted with crystal like tears that refused to fall blinked, and with a second death, took in everything that was happening before her, and remembers–all whilst she struggled to close her heart at the idea and notion of even feeling a single thing at that very moment and tries to analyze all that was happening around her, closing off her emotions in the process. She could not afford to cry; her pride might as well be the only thing that could be saving her from this downfall. Celebration, jubilation (she refused to further kill herself with the idea and thought that the whole world and the very people she loves and cares for are celebrating her heartbreak at this very moment.)..., everything spoke of grandiose around her as the chandeliers glinted like floating diamonds, romantic dim lights glinted off champagne glasses and even intricate, glamorously gem laden goblets. The Whitewell Pack truly did the grandest gesture they could to celebrate this momentous day. The day that they would announce to the other clans the Pack Scion and next in line Alpha’s chosen lover and Mate. A position that should have been hers to celebrate. A position, a curse, a brand that she had been groomed all her life for to accept, now so easily enjoyed and celebrated by someone else…that someone else being her very own sister. Beside them, were the current Elders of the Whitewell Pack, hers and that man’s parents, having proudly announced to all of the Clans affiliated with the Whitewell Pack the blissful announcement. Audibly now, if she taps into the Lunar Spirit within her mind, she can hear the approving howls of the Wolves and their Luna as they welcome this development with open arms. Did they all know? Luscziella asks to herself in misery, doing everything in her power not to scream those words and make a scene lest she ruins her pride, the sole thing that is making her standing so well and proud despite her heart continuously shattering to pieces with each second that passed? She looks at Lyzelotte, and her sister in her pure white dress and hair encrusted with all of their mother’s best heirlooms, perhaps she should have already known without asking. With one last beat, and one last breath, she inhales…and slowly walks forward towards her grave, where they all stood happily and vividly reminded her that she no longer had a place to belong here. Carefully, she removed her primly pin up hair…the hair that she had to arrange for her own as her mother had no time for her older daughter whilst her other one needed all the time in the world, and so she let her chocolate colored curls bounce beautifully behind her to accentuate her pale, silken and perfect shoulders. She hiked up the skirt of her dress, a dress she had to procure of her own means in fear of a father who would call her selfish for asking when they all had to prioritize dear, sweet, little, perfect Lyzelotte. Luscziella’s rogue laden shell pink lips slowly smiled their sweetest and sincerest, and at the last resonant clack of her heels, the fanfare died and she almost laughed at how everyone must look right now. Alas they remember her, the girl who was beside the man of the show three years back, dictated by the Moon Goddess Lune to be the Luna of the Whitewell Pack scion and immediately the fanfare was now a fiasco and buzz of whispers and gossip. Luscziella smiled, perfect…perhaps they were expecting for her to run away crying into the night but she promised right at this very moment that they dared kill her heart that she won’t spare them tears again. Perhaps, they even colored her at that moment to be a villainess they had to conquer but she was done playing their games. Every step crumbled everything she ever knew, like a phoenix, turning her into ash as she neared them. Alas, she reached the stage and she smiled gently, as Luscziella always did and finally felt a new emotion simmer underneath her skin besides the despair that suffused every part of her being at that very moment. An emotion unfamiliar to her, for she had always been one to advocate the words and actions of thinking with a sound mind. Oh, but is she sound of mind at those very moments, and she burned with righteous anger. They buzzed around her with interest now, as if onlookers to a spectacle that is about to unfold for their own interests but long gone are her inhibitions and regards for whatever else and anything that others may think of her. Tonight, she will burn all the bridges and nobody shall ever come close to her heart. Tonight, she will die and be born anew with a life that she would live for herself. Tonight, she will give herself one last cry but oh, not for them, no. But to mourn the loss of a life that was wasted in loving and believing everyone and everything she had ever known in her life. “Sister, congratulations”, Luscziella smiled sincerely before alas turning to them…the main perpetrators of stabbing daggers into her heart. Druscilla and Lucenzo Queensley looked at her haughtily, as though a warning not to do anything that wasn’t to their expectations but she nary spared them a glance before turning to the Whitewell’s Elders. She bowed before quickly turning her eyes back to her sister and spoke these words enigmatically, “May the Goddess Lune bless your union”, she smiled before turning her back and walking away, bee-lining straight for the hotel convention hall’s exit. She ignored the roaring fire under her skin and only thought of one thing, “Goddess, do I need a drink”, she sighed as she exited the hall and ignored the chaos that ensued right behind her.