The clapping starts as soon as I take the first step down onto level ground. The chessil path winding through the middle of the yard glimmers under the full moon, like a long silver python winding through grass. I lift my hand, waving mildly and trying to smile at every one my eyes make contact with. The people milling outside the Manor are all still in their positions, conversations stifled, as they regard me slowly walking in their midst. Their applause is complimented in benevolent gazes sent over my form. And suddenly, it feels like I'm walking down the red carpet at a Met Gala.
A few people stretch out their hands to me, fingers not quite touching. But caressing the air about me, like my aura can somehow rub off on them.
