Tales of House Solspire ( not all details are good details?)

I have been writing about my dear conflicted and somewhat vain blood elf Li´anne for a short time. Having started with a rather nice outline , I wholly intended to follow it rather closely in order to keep on track with the story I intended to reveal. After a few real life issues cropped up, preventing me from continuing at full steam while I had the muse buzzing about in my ear, I find myself now trying to retrace my steps. Although I still have the notes, I feel certain parts of my writing (or perhaps it is my perspective) has changed. I fear losing the momentum I started with entirely and I would really appreciate a bit of constructive assistance on further this. Each installment is intended to reveal a new moresel that represents the overwhelming burden that weighs on Li´anne's mind. One of the crucial moments of the story is the Convocation. I've written this part down and rewritten it a few times keeping tabs on the notes.

Also, I strive to keep each installment fairly brief as I'm noting that my target audience usually responds better to a bite size rather than a big gulp. For fear of presenting too much information all at once, I'm tempted to stop where I am on this next installment. Yet, it does not feel complete to me. HELP!!!

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Convocations, Coquettes and Rapaciousness

When compared to my parents who brought our House into the grand limelight in their day, and my sister who became a Knight-Champion so soon after graduating from the Order’s strict training halls, I am a laughable substitution. Even my playmates knew this, though they’d never tell me to my face.

Recalling the night of the Graduates Convocation, I knew even then that I would never compare. Jealously was rife in my mind that eve.

I’d spent so much time preparing my adornments, having my personal seamstress retouch my gown until the hem at the front was just shy of being indecent. Fitted perfectly to the cuirasse bodice, the gown had such a delightful neckline that plunged dangerously, making my slender frame seem all the more voluptuous.

As an added bit of pomp, a sash of the finest brocade wrapped about my frame. Tied into a bow the excess trailed behind me, pooling upon the floor in my wake. The painstakingly embroidered flowers upon the fabric shimmered in autumn hues of gold and bronze, perfectly accenting the ochre color of the silk gown.

Bejeweled with the most alluring trinkets in the family’s possession, diamonds and gold leaf caressed my skin, seeming to cascade from the crown upon my head and climb its way down the length of my body.  The gentlemen’s eyes followed in my wake as the train of my dress slinked behind me, accentuating the curve of my back. I’m certain they delighted in watching my departure nearly as much as they did my arrival.

Ah and the women!

I knew I’d chose the right outfit when I felt the telltale stab of eyes at my back. These I turned to greet with a knowing and wholly vainglorious smirk of my own.

It’s not my fault that their sense of style is so pitifuly droll. Oh, but I was indeed having quite a time causing a stir.

Then, the object of the night’s celebration entered the room, and I found myself tossed aside as quickly as I had been idolized.

My sister’s gown was simpler but no less striking. A swath of cloth clung to her curves gently but never too tight. It left the mind pondering the form beneath. A simple bodice of rouge with silver lacings up the front, cinched her waist and lifted her breastline for eager eyes to admire. Daring, for her the hem of the skirt had been left surprisingly high on the left side, allowing her leg and even a bit of thigh to peek out as she descended the staircase.

From mother’s much admired jewelry collection, she’d chosen only a few simple pieces. A cascade of silver fell at her collar like a waterfall, pointing toward the V of her neckline. Her earrings were nearly as austere; two simple strands of silver hung from tiny hooks upon her ears, each adorned with a diminutive ruby dangling at their apex. A silver ribbon had been woven through the chignon she’d chosen to wear her hair in, the bright, pristine color offsetting the dark hue of her hair nicely.

She’d also selected a simple set of bangles made of truesilver. They chimed musically as she finished her descent to the ballroom floor.

The assembly was enamored with her as always. Clapping, they clustered at the base of the stairs, waiting upon her next act as she smiled demurely and offered thanks for their kind gestures. Many of the faces clustered the closest to her were the social elites, their gazes, silently begging for her attentions.

Someone handed her a glass of champagne. Raising it, my lovely sister gave a short but eloquent toast as was her rite as valedictorian and the first from their class honored to wear the crimson emblem of a Knight-Champion. She took a delicate sip, and I swear the guests held their breath to watch such an act.

Why were they so riveted by her!

Everything about her was so – so reticent! As if she strove to forget her Noble station in life. She even walked among the lowborn as if they were her equals, greeting and acknowledging them! I do not know what she thought she’d gain from such actions really, aside from dirty beggers thrusting their hands under her nose for a chance hand-out!

Huffing in frustration, I turned from the scene of her adoring lackeys and found a welcome distraction to drown myself in. Indulging heavily upon the fine wines offered, I prowled the ballroom for any candidate that might offer me a bit of sport. There were still a few not so utterly enthralled by Setsu that they would forgo the chance to bed a fine woman such as myself! Dragging my plaything up the alabastar staircase, we found our way to one of the guest rooms. Giggling uncontrollably from the heady caress of alcohol I found myself unceremoniously toppled into the soft caress of a matress. 

My playmate's features were a blur to me in the shadows of the bedroom but i cared little who it was that I lay with. He would serve his purpose regardless. I will admit to feeling a twinge of regeret though as his hands crept up my thighs, hiking the skirt up over my hips. Such treatment of these fine garment! For shame! But i was too far gone in the moment to voice my regrets. As he bent his form over me, the last though on my mind before pure carnality took over was how bothersome it would be to remove the wrinkles from my masterwork tomorrow.