Those Genevieve passed gave way for another reason.  The fragility of her costume, the wings fluttering behind her, only accented the seeming fragility of the girl herself.  Each step was taken with exquisite grace, and people folded away in front of her as if she would shatter with a touch.  Of course inside she was quite amused.  She was aware that in fact her body was hardier, in its way, than anyone else in this ball.  But it suited her role tonight and she simply smiled sweetly at those she passed.<br/><br/>She never knew when one might be her patron.  She found herself checking behind herself, the sensation of being pursued tickling at the back of her neck.  She thought she had caught sight of him, her patron closing in slowly, circling through the ballroom.  And then for a moment she thought there was another, that unmistakable feeling of eyes on her.  She caught a glimpse of him, not long enough to mark his costume or face, but enough to send a shiver down her spine.  There was something ... formidable about him.  She wondered if indeed HE was the one who sought her, but he swirled away in the crowd, and yet the other pursued.<br/><br/>Genevieve felt her heart begin to race as the pursuer closed in.  She smiled, knowing it only a game, and yet ... yet it was all too real, as well.  Now the crowd seemed always in her way, the slow parting of those in front of her a trap, as if they too wished her to be caught.  Her costume, an ephemeral fae creature seemed more a curse, making her feel even more vulnerable and fragile.  She couldn't move fast enough and felt the rush of heat in her body that the prey must feel.  She knew of all people here tonight, she could expect true pain if caught.  Though conditioned to it, it never lost the thrill of fear - she would have failed as an adept if she had.  Her patron had paid for this, among other things she was sure, for this spike of fear in her heart as he closed in, not knowing what he might intend.