It was kind of like the feeling that people get when their ears pop: a slight change in pressure. Some people don’t even notice, others might notice just a bit of a change. Sometimes, it throws off a person’s equilibrium to the point where the person fell to the ground.
The dropping of the veil wasn’t gradual; it was immediate. It was like a wave of matter shot through the town, pushed right through Roslyn like a blast of cold water. Roslyn fell to her knees as it dropped, almost as if gravity was affecting her once again. The pull she felt to Earth was both discomforting and comforting at the same time.
At first, she wasn’t sure what it was; she had never felt anything like it. In that moment, though, she felt the pull of her own great, great (and so-on) niece. For hours, she passed through cursed to virgin land–land where blood had not been spilled–watching in amazement as she existed in both realms. She was giddy, but fearful; magic always came with a cost, did it not? Either way, she needed to tell Spencer.
Tonight was going to be special. Even though the Bentley Mansion was already cursed, she felt a link to the Earth that she hadn’t felt in decades; tonight, she truly felt human again. Before the night was through, Roslyn would tell Spencer how she truly felt.
It wasn’t easy finding a dress that fit Roslyn. She couldn’t wear those big, poofy marshmallow-looking dresses that girls wore to proms, and she didn’t feel comfortable wearing a short dress that could possibly show everyone her uterus. When she found a long, white dress in one of the Bentley’s armoires, she knew it had to be hers–they had a billion dresses, they wouldn’t miss one, right? It had purple and blue beading, reminding her of the night sky, the pale ivory of the framework mirroring the moon. It was not short or poofy, it was long and felt like water against her skin. She felt beautiful, but honestly, she was terrified Spencer wouldn’t like it.
She secretly thanked her goddesses for allowing this to be a masquerade party; she was truly terrified and she was sure anyone would’ve seen it on her face, if not for her mask. She stared in awe at the large mass of people, suddenly feeling as small as a speck of dust.
Roslyn looked around, pacing nervously as she looked for her night in shining armor. She had a good idea of what he was wearing, but she was short; it was hard to see anyone, really. Exasperated, Ros stepped on one of the lower bars of a barstool, eyes quickly scanning for the golden-locked boy. When she saw Spencer, she grinned; the boy was easy to spot from this view. She quickly hopped from the stool, weaving through and running in his direction.
She slid to a stop as she finally reached him, reaching to tap the boy on the shoulder. “Spencer?” She called out self-conciously, praying that it was him and not some lookalike.