white_jenna (white_jenna) wrote in areyougame, @ 2008-10-15 08:48:00 |
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Entry tags: | *final fantasy vii: cc, author: white_jenna |
Winter Ball, Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core (Angeal/Genesis)
Title: Winter Ball
Author/Artist: white_jenna
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Word count: 670
Summary: Deck the halls....
Prompt: Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core, Angeal/Genesis: ShinRa's winter ball - We foot it all the night, weaving olden dances, mingling hands and mingling glances
A/N: My deepest apologies to anyone who would recognize a quadrille if they saw one. Thanks to amarissia and key_of_ra at LJ for letting Amaya come over to play. Prompt quote is from "The Stolen Child" by William Butler Yeats. No, I don't know what's up with the font change.
Ah, ShinRa's winter ball
All the political intrigue and subtle back-stabbing of the Wutian High Court dancing attendance on the Emperor at the Golden Palace, wrapped up in winter greens and berries.
Actually, Angeal reflected as he sipped mulled wine, while there was a slight, but very real chance of assassination at the Palace, such a risk was mostly absent here. Just the run of the mill office party traditions: indulging too much in the open bar and not finding out what you said or who you did until the next day, making inane small talk with people you just saw hours ago and didn't want to speak to then, seeing what the hell Scarlet was decked out in this year, watching the Turks watch everybody else.
And of course the dreaded formal dress uniform was required. Angeal tugged at the black jacket in distaste. For all the reduced weight, it just wasn't as comfortable to him as harness and armor. The decorative red braid was shot through with hints of green. Mako dyed silk, ShinRa to the core.
A flash of silver caught his eye. Sephiroth appeared to be stuck talking with an unfamiliar executive. Probably one of the numerous guests and dignitaries invited to the fete. At least there weren't any festive ribbons in the general's hair this year. Which meant that Tseng had made good on his word and Turk Amaya was still stationed out at Icicle Inn.
Before he could go over and rescue his friend, he spied another familiar figure moving towards him. Pale skin and auburn hair contrasted with the stark black, and blue eyes smirked and glowed as Genesis strode across the room. Before they could reach each other, the string quartet shifted into the “get your asses into position” introduction to the Junoan quadrille.
Borrowing both dance and military traditions that existed long before ShinRa, the quadrille presented a spectacle, precise as any martial drill, designed to impress the visiting dignitaries and VIPs. The balconies overlooking the ballroom were lined with spectators as ShinRa staff formed squares covering the entire floor. Scientist faced secretary, engineer faced executive. And that Angeal was turning slightly to bow to Genesis at the opposite corner of their square was as coincidental as the fact that he could see Sephiroth doing the same to Lazard two squares over.
The music flowed into the the dance proper. Moves mirrored on his right, Angeal stepped forward to clasp hands with Genesis' partner as he passed her before turning his own partner once around, and then repeating the process. Now turning back at the starting point, he met smirking eyes with his own as the ladies moved diagonally across the square and back again, passing in a flurry of skirts.
Three steps forward, and he could feel Genesis' body heat through the thin dress glove. Long fingers grasped his wrist before sliding teasingly down his palm. He allowed their fingers to briefly intertwine as they passed. Turn, and back across again. Meet azure eyes and allow them to see the glow in his own. Convey in about half a second of contact all the passion and desires for the hours following this grandiose affair. Hopes to escape the assault on enhanced senses and find a quiet secluded conference room and crash together in a press of desire.
Promenade around the square, dance the few actual steps required. He always felt silly doing this; Genesis' lithe frame was much more suited to this type of thing. Turn, lather, rinse, repeat with the neighboring couples. Make the final bows to everybody.
Finally, finally, he was free from the structured confines of the dance. At this point, he couldn't imagine staying any longer and being subjected to the teases of brushing hands and smoldering glances. Angeal started to make his way towards the door. Turning to look over his shoulder, he smiled as he caught Genesis' smirk as his lover made his way through the crowd as well.
Nothing like holiday traditions.