Apple of His Eye
Aleathia Drehmer
Liridona fidgets uncomfortably in her fanciest dress.  It's hot in Altdorf tonight, blistering in its calidity despite the forest surrounding them, as she waits for the symphony to begin.  Her mother scolded her when she originally refused to go.  These chances for culture ran through their valley scarcely.  She was here against her will with Petrus, whom she'd never looked at twice with any sort of agreeable feelings.  Liridona wished she was with her friends in the wilderness around the Reuss or fireside watching the moon at Lake Lucerne.  But she was here, with Petrus, being held without right cause to view the orchestra perform, Honegger's "Liturgigue". The lights dimmed only making the heat black, but no less powerful.  She feels the perspiration gathering at the back of her neck and feels as country as she really is poured into this city dress.  The corset digs into her ribs crying for space against the stifling air.  The music is turbulent and excitable and Liridona feels an insidious tingle crawling through her body mingling with the swelter into something dangerous and otherworldly.  She feels Petrus' fingers lightly resting on her knee with an almost imperceptible tremble shaking his fingerprints off onto the silken fabric of her dress.  She angles her face ever so slightly, peering at him from the corner of her eye, and sees for the first time something effervescent about his eyes and the way his mouth wants to devour every last inch of her if given the chance.


First published: August, 2011
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