rin. (buyo) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-09-09 21:17:00 |
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The night was a fluttering of wings. Brightly colored fans snapped and waved through the air as they moved in unison -- tonight, Rin was nothing but a single feather, moving in procession. The suzume odori was the final act of the evening, and so they formed two weaving lines. Twenty dancers transformed into a single sparrow, flitting from tree to tree. The dance ended with a bow, and polite applause from the remainder of the evening crowd. But there was no curtain fall here, no lush velvet to signal the end of a performance, so every dancer kept to the form of wings as they retreated from the stage, in silence. It was only when they reached the cavernous dressing room that they morphed back into women, with long limbs and low laughs. The only fluttering was that of silken sleeves. Rin unwound her hair from its sleek knot amid the dull roar of idle conversation. Usually she took part, but tonight, she undressed in silence. Her thoughts spiraled outward, still caught up in the job she’d just returned from. It always took her a bit to settle back into the routine of normalcy. She went through the usual post-performance motions quickly, clearing her face of the day’s stage makeup, and tossing on a simple slip dress. She tucked her feet into soft woven shoes, and waved her goodbyes to the other girls as she exited the cloistered room. But as the door swung shut behind her, Rin paused. There, at the end of the darkened hallway, was the looming shadow of a man. Unusual. Few patrons wandered this far. He had found the backstage area without much trouble. Look like you know where you’re going, and people don’t stop you. Maybe the dancers had backstage visitors often enough that no one cared, maybe he was good at blending into the shadows, maybe he just looked too intimidating to bother. He wasn’t the teahouse type, but he had flowers, which he suspected gave him a pass. She seemed to him like a flowers type. It had taken him awhile to track her down -- she’d given him her first name only, and a specification like, Rin, Dancer, wasn’t necessarily the easiest in a city this size, but he’d gotten lucky after sending out only a couple of feelers. He was a great believer in fate, and her graceful movements and bright laughter as they’d outwitted the guildmaster’s guards had made an impression. Time to see if that bit of a spark could be fanned. He did have a weakness for pretty women. He recognized her first by her bearing in the half-light, raised his hands to offer some well-earned applause. “Pretty impressive, gorgeous. Can’t say I expected exactly that when I walked in here today.” He was more familiar than he wanted to be with the ballet, but this had been something different. Interesting, in its way. Beautiful, he guessed, if you went for that sort of thing. He was mostly interested in the woman, but he could show an appreciation for the art. Though he stood in darkness, Rin recognized the voice. The man from the ball. She spared a second to let shock cross her face -- she certainly hadn’t expected to see Cian again, much less at the teahouse -- but in the next moment, the expression had been washed away, like a sandy footprint by the tides. She let a smile take its place. “What can I say? I delight in exceeding expectations.” She walked toward him, and with each passing step, he came into greater focus. The shadow, its coalesced form bent in grotesque angles, separated into two components: a man, and a large bouquet. Again, a flicker of surprise made its way across her face, but this time, it was accompanied by a hint of delight. He caught the surprise, and the hesitant joy, offered the flowers forward with a crooked smile. He’d known better than to buy roses, gone with dahlias instead in a mix of colors. A man had to know what to avoid when he spent time around women, and Cian could clean up nicely, when he chose. “Guess we have something else in common,” he told her, his smile never fading. He doubted she’d expected to see him here, with flowers. He didn’t much like catering to expectations, either. “Seems like you earned them, though,” he told her. “Almost too bad -- originally, these were just because. Guess I’ll have to go with flowers for no reason some other time.” Rin opened her arms to accept the wild booms, erupting into a cacophony of colors within their cellophane sleeve. She’d always liked dahlias. They reminded her of fireworks, their energy impossible to contain. She bent her head to the bouquet, admiring. The numerous petals hid her smile, though they couldn’t quite conceal the warmth in her eyes. He was charming, this one. And clever, though she wouldn’t have expected any less from someone in the guild. “Some other time?” she asked, teasing. “Very confident of you. How do you know you’ll see me again?” He chuckled. “Found you once in a city of thousands, didn’t I?” he pointed out. “You made quite the impression. Haven’t seen anyone take out a guard with quite that much… elegance. I thought I’d plead my case, offer to buy you a drink. I guess if you’d rather break my heart, these’ll be the first and last flowers.” But he didn’t think so. As he’d told her -- he was a lucky guy. “Hmmm,” Rin murmured, as if she was thinking about it. Of course, she wasn’t. He’d taken an extra step (quite a few extra steps, really), and that impressed her. Her mind was made up. “I suppose I did enjoy your company. And the flowers are lovely.” And with that, she was done with playing coy. Rin never saw the point of mind games, the delicate dance of desires unspoken. She’d always been able to get what she wanted without them. Words, strung with truth, were good enough. “So I’d be amenable to drinks, free or not.” “Then it seems like I lucked out, after all.” He thought for a moment before offering her his arm. She seemed like that type, too. “Pick a place.” She’d be more comfortable in a location of her choosing, and anyway, he didn’t know this district as well as his own. And whatever Rin the Dancer’s story, she did not seem the sort to enjoy someplace like The Blue Bear. “And once I’ve sneaked you out past your droves of admirers, tell me something about yourself. Though if you’re really expecting to pay for your own drink, I have no idea what those other guys in the audience are thinking.” He shook his head with mock sadness and proclaimed, “Seems chivalry is dead.” Not that he had more than a passing acquaintance with it himself, but he could put it on the same way he had the borrowed finery for the guildmaster’s ball. Perhaps because neither suited him, both generally came off as appealing in their incongruity. She looped her arm through his easily, glad for the gesture, even if it wasn’t completely genuine. Rin had no doubt that her companion was putting on his own performance -- men always did, and it was impossible not to notice. The dahlias, for example, had been beautiful, but arranged in a haphazard rainbow. Pretty enough, though clearly indicative of little thought. And though Cian had an undeniable charisma, there were gaps in his armor of charm. Rin saw them clearly, just as she was sure he saw hers. But he was trying, and that had always been enough, with her. “I’ve the perfect place.” Said with a warm smile, and cheerfulness. “It’s right around the corner.” They exited the teahouse through a side door -- the front entrance was for patrons only, by decree of the matron -- and emerged into the velvet night. “As for a fact about myself, I’m from Ordalia.” Something simple, to start. “Though I’m sure the accent gave it away.” It was a warm night, good for a leisurely walk and a bit of conversation. “Big continent, Ordalia,” he said. “I’ve never been, unfortunately, but indulge me -- which part?” He’d met a number of Ordalian transplants over the years, and they had been as varied in appearance and culture as anyone could imagine. “I wish I’d traveled more when I had the chance,” he added after a moment -- true enough, he had spent most of his childhood and adolescence in a perpetual state of take me anywhere but here. “These days, I’m pretty much chained to the city, but I like hearing stories.” “The islands. To the east.” Her childhood home was one of the only things Rin was particularly reticent about. Already, she found herself reluctant to say more, though she had barely begun. “Very mountainous,” she added, after a moment. “And cold.” In more ways than one. “Haven’t heard that word applied to Ordalia much,” he said, before deciding to let the subject drop unless she offered more clarification. It didn’t seem like she was particularly willing to talk about it, and he was glad to change the topic to something else. “Me, I know this city like the back of my hand, but I haven’t gotten out of it much.” “Where would you like to go, if you could?” Rin asked as she steered them down a left turn, towards the bar. Cian withdrew his arm to open the door for her, and she ducked through graciously. The bar itself wasn’t particularly stunning, especially not compared to some of the others in the district, but its proximity to Hana meant that Rin was a fairly frequent patron. The bartender flashed her a broad smile when she walked through the door. He chuckled, following her in, noting that she seemed to be well-known here. The bartender’s smile seemed genuine, so she was apparently well-liked, too. “Loaded question,” he told her as they were shown to a table, “considering I’ve never really been anywhere. Someplace new -- without giant sea serpents,” he decided at last. “That’s about my one condition. You got any recommendations? Been too many years since I took a vacation; maybe I should rectify that.” “I’m always partial to Ordalia,” Rin admitted. “Beaches, warm weather, lots of sun. And the best food in all of Ivalice.” A tall young man came over to take their orders, and Rin opted for a dry martini. No food; she didn’t like to eat this late at night, if she could help it. “But I’m biased,” she continued, once the waiter had left. “I lived on the continent for a long time after I left home.” He picked a lighter beer as the lesser of evils, knowing he would be nursing it all night and get through less than a quarter of the bottle. “Well, you’re painting a pretty compelling picture,” he told her. She was animated when she talked. He had decided at the ball that he liked her face -- but he found he preferred it without all the finery. “If I ever manage that vacation, I’ll have to consider it. So,” he said after a moment, “what brings you here? Not our fine Valendian cuisine, apparently.” “Just wanted a change of scenery, I guess.” She shrugged, and thanked the waiter as their drinks arrived. It was as truthful an answer as any. Rin had an almost nomadic tendency to wander, and after so many years in Ordalia, Valendia had seemed like a breath of fresh air. “And a lot of people I knew ended up in Emillion. It seemed like the people’s choice.” “Not a bad reason to do something,” he said. “It’s not usually this… exciting, either, but then, if you’ve been here a few years, you know that.” All these crazy attacks were something new. Between all of that, and his new… neighbors in the Tenements, he was on edge. But, he reminded himself, tonight wasn’t for that sort of talk. She was Guild, sure, but she wasn’t someone to talk shop with, either. So instead, he changed the subject. “Not that all the excitement is the bad sort -- that was quite the party a few weeks back.” He’d hated it slightly less than anticipated, and had to admit -- privately -- that the trek to the Faram-damned guestbook had wound up being his favorite part. A soft, low laugh. “Reinholdt always knows how to throw a good party,” she agreed. “He spares no expense.” It was true of both the main extravaganza and the whole affair with the guestbook. Although Rin did wonder whether the traps were entirely for their benefit; the Duke seemed the type of person who would have a colorful mix installed year round, for those who were foolish enough to attempt a break-in. “Anything for a good time.” That, as far as Cian could tell, was something the guildmaster took seriously. “Some of the stories going around about it are going to be urban legends before long. Something about molasses and chocobo feathers.” He chuckled, shook his head, then added, “I have to admit, if that one’s true, I’m sorry I missed it.” Rin murmured her assent as she sipped her martini, glass cradled carefully in one hand so as not to spill its contents. She took advantage of the moment to study her companion in the dim light of the bar. He stood out, here. Though the tavern she’d chosen was one of the more casual ones in the district, it still oozed a certain refined quality (after all, they catered to their audience). Cian, in his dark clothing, with ink spilling down his arms, looked as if he’d been cut out of one page, and crudely pasted into another. The looks they’d been attracting from some of the other patrons made it evident that Rin wasn’t the only one who’d noticed, but she ignored them. She’d long gotten used to being stared at. “Tell me about these,” she said after a moment, gesturing to the tattoos that showed on his arms. “Hmm?” he asked, not following the change of subject initially -- then, when he realized, he chuckled, said, “Oh, yeah.” He supposed such things weren’t all that common in her part of town -- her dress might be simple, but the quality of the fabric and cut was obvious, even to an untrained eye. She had class. He doubted she spent much time around places like the Tenements. “They’re a map,” he said after a moment of thought. “Of my life up to now, the important moments, the hardest decisions, my biggest mistakes.” His smile was crooked as he added, “Made my share of those.” And, he didn’t say, he liked the sting, the painful tenderness of tattoos newly inked. When he had started, as an angry, sullen kid over twenty years ago, he’d used the pain to remind himself that he was still alive, that he had some sort of control, little as it seemed to be. It was a habit, now -- he controlled his life, and the lives of so many others, but he’d acquired the taste for that particular sort of needle. He thought a moment then stroked his left hand over the head of the snarling tiger depicted across the crook of his right arm. “Ordalian superstition, actually. Said to stand for power, leadership, the ability to act decisively and trust yourself.” And a reminder, for him, of what he had chosen and what he had given up. “Just one for tonight,” he told her, when the silence -- and the memories -- threatened to become uncomfortable. “But if you’re interested, we’ll play show-and-tell again sometime.” He grinned, then, dispelling the melancholy, turning it into something that was half joke, half proposition. “Otherwise, we’ll be here all night -- and the bartender might try to kick us out when my clothes start coming off.” “I’m sure I could persuade him to kick the rest of them out instead,” she joked with a wry smile. “But if you insist.” Rin had listened to Cian talk about the art that adorned his skin with interest. Back home, tattoos were both reviled and feared. They were the mark of prisoners and criminals; bad men and dirty women, her mother had said, shuddering. But Rin had always been bizarrely fascinated by the swirls of ink, and what they represented to different people. Without meaning, they were just a curious aberration. But when they told stories, they held power. She finished her martini with one last swallow. It was to be her one and only drink tonight, so Rin glanced at the bottle held within Cian’s hand, to see how he was doing. Barely touched, she noted, with a hint of surprise. He liked to be in control, then. “No rush, gorgeous.” If she asked for a closer look, he wouldn’t argue, but he wasn’t about to push, either. Tonight was for conversation. He took another sip of his beer, set it back on the table mostly full, as he’d expected. “Another?” he asked nodding toward her empty glass. “Or is this the part of the evening where I offer you a ride home?” She shook her head. “I’m done for the night,” Rin insisted. “And my place is close enough to walk...although a ride does sound tempting.” A hoverbike, she guessed. He seemed the type. “So I’ll have to accept.” He pulled a generous quantity of gil from his pocket -- enough to cover drinks and tip -- before standing from his seat. “I guess that makes me lucky, then.” He offered his arm once more and waited for her to gather up her flowers before they made their way back out the door and into the darkness. Fortunately, he had taken the precaution of parking behind the teahouse, so it wasn’t a long walk. The bike was still shiny and new, purchased during the Festival of Lions to replace the one he had crashed during the sea serpent’s attack. If it really was as close as she said, maybe he’d make a few circles, take the scenic route. Swinging one long leg over the bike to straddle the seat, he grinned at her and said, “I hope you like heights.” “I love them,” she replied, grinning in return. Rin slid onto the seat behind him, and took a moment to maneuver the flowers into a safe position, tucking them into one arm with the stems pressed against Cian’s back. The other wound around his waist, like a pale snake. She tightened her grip as he started the engine, stomach in a knot of excitement. And then they were off. |