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She was always dressed to impress; this was true. There was nothing wrong with impressing people or showing you best self, and there was certainly nothing wrong with presenting a glamorous beauty to those around you just to woo and bring forth jealousy. Knowing your beauty was a strength, and using it was a tool; Being modest was boring, in her opinion, and not being slightly narcissistic was unreasonable.
Which, of course, was why Yosano would clad herself in the most exquisite gown and the richest diamonds to bring forth the mighty beauty of her form and face, and to truly prepare to be the best dressed in the entire ball.
She held no doubt the gown would bring her a bigger reputation; it was the epitome of fashionable, a black tulle gown that formed to beautiful red petals that caped her chest and a lace up back that fell down her skin perfectly, creating a glamorous effect of beauty through layers of lace and lining, fitting the theme of spring masquerade perfectly, ensuring all attention to be drawn to her and her magnificent beauty.
All that was needed was a crafted mask to fit her sculpted facial features and pop the white of her soft skin and contrast with glorious beauty to complete the look and allow herself to set off on her path to total glory.
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She was not here to please icky men. She was not here to be set gaze upon as an object rather than an immortal being. And she was certainly not here to fall flat face in the middle of her own feelings and surrender to the tingly sensation of love in her stomach.
So why was that the case?
And why couldn’t she keep her head straight, to power through the night and to set it in place that she was a goddess and she was the best in the ball?
It was unfathomable, the idea of her falling head first for another, and falling witness to her feelings when she was supposed to be the one in charge, and the one ahead of them all. It was ridiculous. Herself? Falling in love? It Has to be a joke!
But here she was, the situation as clear as day and her heart practically out on its own as she sits back in her chair, hand falling to her head as she sighs with dramatic ridicule and glounces back to show her distaste in the situation and her own heart. A frown falls upon her lips as her head rests backwards, her eyes wander across the dancefloor (Where she should have been, dancing her heart away instead of hiding her heart from the gushy love she felt.) and to a certain pink haired girl chatting with a disgustingly pale black haired man without a care, still looking as delicate and sophisticated as the first time she saw her, and Yosano quickly turns back in a blushing fury and away from her heart, only to be met with another problem; a childlike man by the name of Edogawa Ranpo who sat before her, his hand resting with a frown sat upon his face as he pushes out with irritability, “Just go talk to her.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The girl,” Ranpo yawns, “You’re all doki-doki.”
“I am not!” She rushes out with fury, “Well, alright… I am. She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
He snorts, “That’s why I think you should go talk to her.”
“Yes, you are right,” Casualty slides out of her pressed lips, and her face masks with a given up tragedy as she lets her appearance fall down and she lets out her pent up gush, “But I can do no such thing. Ranpo, could you believe that! It would be ridiculous, truly.”
“I could,” He sighs again, the irritability showing once more, “That’s why I think you should go ask. What’s to lose—You’re way too vigilant, Yosano!”
“Yes—yes,” She sighs, “But I can’t help it. I’m worried about too many things at once. And I’m worried about a broken heart. I can heal broken bones, but how am I supposed to heal a broken heart!”
“That’s why I think you should go dance,” The man munches of a piece of cake, and Yosano flinches due to the extreme amounts of sugar she notices he has intaken already, “ You're going to leave with a broken heart if you don't ask, too. Askings your best option, Yosano~.”
“I suppose your right,” She sighs as she places her gloved hands on the table and pushes herself up with tremendous force, a determined look now caped over her face, “It would be a shame not to put this dress to use and twirl it around a few times.”
And with every ounce of determination in her body, she spins around on her heels and marches off across the dancefloor, using careful footwork to ease through the crowds of drunk business men and women to find her way by the pink haired women, who is now abandoned by the earlier man and left alone with a glass of wine cupped to her lips as she takes small sips at a time, her eyes following those around the ballroom with curiosity, yet never speaking out or engaging in conversation.
As Yosano grows closer, she’s able to pick up on the immense detail on her dress; It’s a simple red gown with gold trim falling neatly down the loose fit lower half, the arms stretching out to a fit glove and the back opening up just slightly at the cape of the neck, fit with a gold bow that tied the outfit together and matched with the simple gold necklace placed upon her neck; And Yosano marvels at the extreme beauty it captures the lady as, which sets a new term in her mind; Extremeness was not beauty, and simplicity worked just as well.
Huh .
The woman is distracting, that much is clear, but Yosano had not noticed the ethereal beauty and graciousness she carried with her—even through the mask that hides most of her face, Yosano is able to pick up extreme beauty upon the face of what she can only believe is a true, real life angel.
And as she falls forward, pushing her body through the air with as much bravery as her body can muster, she takes one deep, long breath in and steps to the lady, instantly losing any rationality in her mind and she literally loses her breath in shock, her eyes falling down to her feet before she brings herself up again and looks the women straight in the eyes, who is looking at her with curiosity, before she goes to speak but Yosano cuts her off with a push of her lips and a flustered statement, “I just thought you were… pretty.”
“Thank… you,” She says with uncertainty before she regains her conscious and says again, “This is coming as a shock—You are very pretty as well, but what is your name?”
“I am Yosano Akiko, and you?”
“Ozaki Kouyou.” She says with delicacy, “It is nice to meet you, Yosano.”
“And you as well, Ozaki,” She smiles, “But please, call me Akiko.”
“Same for me,” She smiles back, “Kouyou is fine.”
The silence comes as a shock and Yosano quickly regains herself before smiling again and pushing out with every ounce of bravery in her body, “May I have this dance?”
And as she hears the song change, she smiles, her hand flying to a point as she says with a chuckle, “Ah! Perfect.”
“Well,” Kouyou, still hiding her face behind a mask and a fan, speaks slowly but surely as she mouths, “Of course, Akiko. I would love to.”
“I’m so glad,” Yosano moans out with ecstacy, letting out all pent up worry, “You are beautiful.”
And with that, she takes her and steps to the floor, whisking the taller woman away with a flick of her wrist before they're off, spinning around the room with joy as they continue their waltz for many more songs, neither picking up on the growing lateness until they finally tire out and bring themselves back to their own spots with plastered smiles upon their faces and beading sweat on their foreheads.
“Get the dance?” Ranpo snorts and Yosano turns back to him with a grimace.
“You bet I did.”