there-was-snow

CASIMIRO/FINAS Picture This. He's pale. Like milk; like snow or ivory, like so many other white things but he could be paler still. You want him to be, oh God how you want him to be.  His hair is long, but fashionably so and tied back with a silk ribbon. It catches the light and you count all the different shades of brown you can see in that split second and fancy you can smell the faint aroma of soap and lavender.   You watch him. He's at a party tonight, some fancy, elite upper class masquerade ball with Her. Her. Jealousy is too light a word for how you feel when you see Her; see Her place one hand on His arm and smi