<div class="floatright">(https://pre00.deviantart.net/8665/th/pre/f/2014/155/c/8/white_fairy___stock_by_mariaamanda-d7l12qi.jpg)</div>Name:  Elia<br/>Location: Ballroom<br/>Tagging: Isobelle<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Elia smelled her before she knew the scent was a her and not an inanimate delicious dessert. Her stomach rumbled - not an uncommon thing when one ate like a model had to eat, even if ballet and youth burned a fair number of calories. This rumble was like a bit of a tightening too, like the proverbial butterflies in the stomach. As if her own mask had been mistaken by a swarm of butterflies for one of their own, and they’d somehow ended up swallowed down into Elia’s stomach instead.<br/><br/>Elia raised a hand to try to get the attention of a liveried attendant, so she could ask him what rich confection she smelled, and could she have one - or maybe even<em>two!</em>Then she realized the scent was not an it, but a her. Yes, most definitely a<em>her</em>. Elia’s blue eyes fluttered up hourglass hips clad in cream gown, to equally notably curved bust half clad in same, to a face shadowed by an interestly asymmetric mask. Her eyes fluttered up quickly enough not to be rude as such, but not too quickly to be noticed, she realized too late.<br/><br/>Ah well, she herself was masked after all, that and the champagne gave her some courage. Elia’s own mask, a thing of many crisscrossing curls and not solid in the least, did rather little to hide hint of flush - also borne of both thoughts - alcohol and thoughts.<br/><br/>Elia was still lucid enough to heed the words. Her mask sparkled as she turned to face the other woman. “No!” she chirped in excited reply, her voice much less poised. Then she caught herself, and spoke in more measured cadence. “Not in the slightest, nothing like this. I feel very inch the debutante.” Every inch, as it happened, was that Elia was much closer to six feet than five. Yet she still seemed a small thing to many, for the height was mostly legs, and she was narrow of limb and waist, with bust and hip enough yes, but still growing. Her heels were high as she knew how to walk in, too. Yet for all that, it somehow seemed to Elia it was the other woman who loomed larger, like a wildcat looking down from its surveying vantage upon a tree branch.<br/><br/>Elia went on, “I am E-.....excited, quite, just as you say, miss, and - .”<br/><br/>The liveried man she’d half-indicated had seen enough to come over, and he was bearing confections much like Elia had at first thought she smelled.<br/><br/>“- hungry”, Elia interrupted her own train of thought as she noticed this. Elia’s nostrils were still full and tingling with swirled perfumes, and quite contentedly so - and the sweets looked appealing too.<br/><br/>She rationalized to herself, aloud, “I suppose it’s an occasion, and I ought have something to absorb the champagne.” They were dainty things anyway. Elia plucked up one which seemed like a firm little cup of swirled cream and caramel, twisted about one another in an artful converging spiral, topped with flecks of almond, and a bit of powdered sugar which almost glittered.<br/><br/>Elia took the little morsel down in one bite. Barely a bite, practically just a swallow. She washed it down with the rest of the champagne, her lipstick leaving its silvery-lavender glint on the edge of the glass. “That was very sweet,” Elia commented, “One mouthful but whets the appetite, all the same.”<br/>