"He was the epitome of beauty, his eyes crystal clear, his hair darker than the night sky. His jaw perfectly sculpted. He stood there wearing white which made him seem like an angel. He asks you to join him in a dance, what were your thoughts when you set your eyes on him, what did you feel? Was your heart racing? Were you reluctant? Did you accept his dance offer or was there something in your heart that made you feel uneasy? How did it all end? Was he truly an angel? Or the devil alluring you towards him?" Write a short prose on the given situation, it could be simple sweet romance or take a dreadful turn of horror. Let your imagination run wild. Tag me so I could fall in love with your love story too~"

Perfect

He was the epitome of beauty. That's what Amelia would say. I am not Amelia but even I'm starting to believe it. His ocean eyes are clear and I can see the untold story in them. His pitch black hair seems to have come straight from the night sky itself. And his jawline-- no, no, no. I am not here to gawk at handsome young men, I am here for one purpose and that purpose is to kill the king. I quickly divert your eyes towards the king on his throne his chin held high. I can almost see the air of ego floating around his head of gray hairs. I stand up causally, and as elegantly as I can in these uncomfortable heels. I lean against one of the white pillars and slowly, gracefully, slide my hand in a fold of my silver dress. I feel around until my hands are gripped around the hilt of my knife. I need to get closer for the kill.

"Would you care for a dance."

I gasp dropping my hand to my side and pivoting around becoming face to face with the epitome of beauty. I control my heartbeat and force myself to make eye contact.

"Pardon?" I ask making sure I heard his tranquil voice right.

"Care for a dance?" He repeats his voice a near whisper and coated with softness.

I look behind to see if a prettier girl is behind me and if I'm just in the way. Nope. No one. "Me?"

He chuckles, his laugh light and whimsical. "Of course."

"I'm not much of a dancer," I'm more of a killer, I leave unsaid.

"That's alright. I don't know how to dance either. We can wing it together."

He smiles, a dimple forming on his left, perfect cheek. Perfect, perfect, perfect. My suspicion is high but so is my curiosity.

"I guess we could waltz over to the hors dourves table."

Again the too perfect chuckle. "That's a deal."

And then he takes my hand, gently, and leads me towards the center of the room. We waltz, quite clumsy at first but then we soon examine the others around us and start a elegant sway.

"Arin," he whispers in my ear, his hot breath kissing my earlobe.

I think of the fake name I had when I came in here. "Lillian." Crap, that's my real name.

Arin smiles and I smile back. I know what I have to do. After I kill the king I'm going to have to kill him too.