Post by Elodie Durig on Jul 19, 2011 7:19:31 GMT
Location: A London Dance Hall
Time: 17:45
Weather: Sunny all day, warm at noon but turning brisk the closer it gets to sunset.
The sun shone with the evening’s orange light over the bustling city of London, its inhabitants traveling hither and thither with purpose. Ever the rebel, Miss Elodie Durig did not share their diligence, standing instead at the outskirts of the undulating human stream with her back to the warm, red bricks of the White Lily Dance Hall.
Even the sound of frantic activity from within did little to move the young lady who stood idly observing the city around her, so caught up was she in her own thoughts. There would be a dance here soon, prepared by the Red Cross for all Allied soldiers stationed nearby. The ladies inside had been at it all afternoon, hanging flags, preparing refreshments, and helping the band set up. Elodie had considered offering to help them, but the dress she had decided upon for the occasion was hardly serviceable for such work. She would have to content herself with the aid provided by her most recent donation to the organization and the company she could provide for the soldiers as a dance partner tonight.
Fidgeting with the ruffled hem of her red dress, Elodie scanned the crowd for other women who looked likely to be attending tonight. Some of the locals would of course come with their soldier-lovers, but there would most likely be plenty more attending like her, there to enjoy the food, music, and festivities while helping give the military boys a night of frivolity to remember after they were shipped off to the front. A few likely specimens passed by the dance-hall’s entrance, looking curiously at the festooned front door and glossing over the blonde Swiss girl standing not even a full meter from it. Elodie started to wish she’d come a bit later; it looked as though no one else would appear until the festivities had well and truly begun.
Just then the dance hall doors swung open, releasing a burst of noise and two giggling girls dressed in their Red Cross regalia. From the sound of it, the band was warming up; Elodie could make out the beginning bars of Glenn Miller’s String of Pearls through the rapidly closing door. The two girls walked down the street together, still laughing about something. From the opposite direction, a man and woman approached arm in arm, their gay attire marking them as attendants of tonight’s festivities. They nodded in greeting as they passed the Swiss girl, releasing another burst of sound as they pulled the doors wide and entered the dance hall beyond.
It was approaching six o’clock by this point, and Elodie smiled as she realized what had just happened. Two in and two out. The party had quite a ways to go before it would match the to-do planned by the ladies inside. Elodie watched another few ladies, a British soldier, and the two Red Cross girls from before return before she considered entering herself. By now the band was through warming up and had started into a rousing first number audible even with the doors shut. She sighed, wondering for how much longer she could delay the inevitable; dances like these, though nothing like the stuffy affairs to which she had been subjected as a child, still did not elicit much excitement from a girl already prone to homesickness and still somewhat unsettled by the idea of travelling alone. If not for the cajoling of a female acquaintance (who had, unsurprisingly, informed her at the last minute that she would be unable to attend, but that the dance would still be ‘good for her’, even if she had to attend it by herself) and her own desire to do something, even something so small as attending a silly party, to make the boys heading to the front happy, she would have been more than content to spend the night away from the crowds of people that would soon be in attendance. For now she gladly hesitated between the two choices, watching men and women pass through the doors with a smile on her face and absolutely no desire to follow them in on her own.
Time: 17:45
Weather: Sunny all day, warm at noon but turning brisk the closer it gets to sunset.
The sun shone with the evening’s orange light over the bustling city of London, its inhabitants traveling hither and thither with purpose. Ever the rebel, Miss Elodie Durig did not share their diligence, standing instead at the outskirts of the undulating human stream with her back to the warm, red bricks of the White Lily Dance Hall.
Even the sound of frantic activity from within did little to move the young lady who stood idly observing the city around her, so caught up was she in her own thoughts. There would be a dance here soon, prepared by the Red Cross for all Allied soldiers stationed nearby. The ladies inside had been at it all afternoon, hanging flags, preparing refreshments, and helping the band set up. Elodie had considered offering to help them, but the dress she had decided upon for the occasion was hardly serviceable for such work. She would have to content herself with the aid provided by her most recent donation to the organization and the company she could provide for the soldiers as a dance partner tonight.
Fidgeting with the ruffled hem of her red dress, Elodie scanned the crowd for other women who looked likely to be attending tonight. Some of the locals would of course come with their soldier-lovers, but there would most likely be plenty more attending like her, there to enjoy the food, music, and festivities while helping give the military boys a night of frivolity to remember after they were shipped off to the front. A few likely specimens passed by the dance-hall’s entrance, looking curiously at the festooned front door and glossing over the blonde Swiss girl standing not even a full meter from it. Elodie started to wish she’d come a bit later; it looked as though no one else would appear until the festivities had well and truly begun.
Just then the dance hall doors swung open, releasing a burst of noise and two giggling girls dressed in their Red Cross regalia. From the sound of it, the band was warming up; Elodie could make out the beginning bars of Glenn Miller’s String of Pearls through the rapidly closing door. The two girls walked down the street together, still laughing about something. From the opposite direction, a man and woman approached arm in arm, their gay attire marking them as attendants of tonight’s festivities. They nodded in greeting as they passed the Swiss girl, releasing another burst of sound as they pulled the doors wide and entered the dance hall beyond.
It was approaching six o’clock by this point, and Elodie smiled as she realized what had just happened. Two in and two out. The party had quite a ways to go before it would match the to-do planned by the ladies inside. Elodie watched another few ladies, a British soldier, and the two Red Cross girls from before return before she considered entering herself. By now the band was through warming up and had started into a rousing first number audible even with the doors shut. She sighed, wondering for how much longer she could delay the inevitable; dances like these, though nothing like the stuffy affairs to which she had been subjected as a child, still did not elicit much excitement from a girl already prone to homesickness and still somewhat unsettled by the idea of travelling alone. If not for the cajoling of a female acquaintance (who had, unsurprisingly, informed her at the last minute that she would be unable to attend, but that the dance would still be ‘good for her’, even if she had to attend it by herself) and her own desire to do something, even something so small as attending a silly party, to make the boys heading to the front happy, she would have been more than content to spend the night away from the crowds of people that would soon be in attendance. For now she gladly hesitated between the two choices, watching men and women pass through the doors with a smile on her face and absolutely no desire to follow them in on her own.