& running is something that we've always done Well & mostly I can't even tell what I'm running from Who: Aspel & Ari What: Closing night and Ari’s birthday Where: The Sphere, then Ari’s flat When: The night of June 1-2 (Gemini 12-13) Rating: PG-13-ish Status: Complete
Why was she here? What was she doing here? What was the point of doing this to Ari? To herself? Faram, why was she so damn weak.
The final night of the play had come, and of course, Aspel had attended as was historically common, as was planned in appropriate dress, and the earrings Ari had given her just two days before. It could have been charted in the stars practically with her regularity of final night attendance. Yet, never before had an action so similar, so relaxing and enjoyable felt so terribly alien, and uncomfortable in all her life. It was nerve wracking, frustrating, and…. Anxiety inducing. What in all of Ivalice was she doing now, here, with…
The flowers she’d thought of getting, had planned on potentially bringing herself had been decided against in the last minute. Her visit to the florist expected, and her request for anonymous delivery - this bouquet similar to the last but slightly different - was taken with a smile. Ari would get them after the show, after everything had finished, and everyone was milling about most likely. Yet, the smith was not one to show up empty handed either so of course, something had been procured. A single flower, a bottle of choice champagne to celebrate, as that was what the other woman obviously would want to do.
Or at least, that’s what the smith assumed Ari would want to do as she stood a ways away from the backstage door. Close enough to easily close the gap and request entry, but far enough away to make it all seem…. Distant. A thing removed.
A panic shot through her, Aspel shouldn’t be doing this, she shouldn’t be here, she shouldn’t be giving into her addictions like some pathetic addict jonesing for one more fix, she shouldn’t…
Dullahan groaned inside the back of her head, that deep earthy metallic echoing scrape that somehow jostled her into action without thought. A manipulation that forced her to move, to reach out and request access to the backstage of the theater after all.
It wouldn’t take long for her to be ushered in, gently coaxed towards Ari’s dressing room from castmates with knowing eyes, and mischievous smiles. Everyone knew of the councilor, and the star actress if it be from rumors, or their own eyes. Now, they may just get to see something up close, and personal for once. Aspel would offer as friendly words as she could manage - she wore her mask well - until in front of Ari’s door. There, she found herself stuck momentarily once more. The only answer was to knock, to go in, to present the bard with her temporary gifts - the one she had originally bought felt questionable now even if she had purchased it months before - before more rumors were started about them by those Ari had to work with most and…
Dullahan groaned again, this time, not as startling as before, but still annoying enough for a brief frown to tick across her face, before shifting, and raising a single hand to knock.
As for Ari, she had developed a very functional (some might argue dysfunctional, but what they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them) routine that she followed at the close of every show without fail. She smiled her way through the curtain call, retreated at a speedy walk to her dressing room, allowed the tears to fall for a few cathartic moments, then washed her face, applied her own low-level Cure to decrease the swelling around her eyes, and covered any redness with cosmetics. By now, she could get through this in under twenty minutes. Fortunately for her, tonight was the last time she had to do this.
Faram, she was ensuring her next show was a comedy. She suddenly felt a great desire to play someone’s sassy maid.
In any case, by the time the knock on the door came, she looked fresh and cheerful and not at all like someone who had been crying, and the white gown of the final scene billowed around her as she opened the dressing room door to behold Aspel, a single tulip and a bottle in hand, garbed in a very elegant dress (how long had it been since Ari had seen her thus, and was it her imagination or was the fabric just a bit loose around her form?) and with a familiar pair of square-cut aquamarines dangling from her ears.
She wouldn’t be awkward about it. She wouldn’t. She would just be happy.
And it was her day, in more ways than one, which was her justification to lean it, once again place a kiss on Aspel’s cheek, nearly at the corner of her lips (there was brave, and then there was stupid). “There you are. I was beginning to think you had gotten lost.”
“I believe I did a bit.” It was a weak attempt at a joke, especially one so littered with truth as it felt of late. Lost really was the perfect word for where, and what she was as of late. Maybe she’d be lucky, maybe finding her way out of this mess wouldn’t be half as hard or disastrous as the last time she felt desperately lost, but… Since leaving the Guard, had she ever really felt found?
“For our star, no?” Shifting forward the bottle, and tulip were offered towards Ari, a slight smile being presented with the gifts. It was weak, a trial of sorts to assure its existence, but in the end, its look was as genuine as it would be, and it was there. Which, sadly, was a marked improvement over what had previously become the norm.
“Well, I’m glad you’ve been found, then,” Ari said, her thoughts running along similar lines -- these days it did seem Aspel was willfully trying to lose herself… somewhere. Brief moments such as this one had become tense and strange, and sometimes Ari wondered, if she didn’t push for them, would they happen at all?
How had she managed to fall in love with two people who were so different? And how did she fix this tenuous connection, when the tactics that had worked with Drake only seemed to widen the space between them?
No, today was meant to be for celebration. She wouldn’t think about these things right now.
So she only said, “Indeed,” taking the single bloom and offering her own smile in return. “I don’t suppose you’d like to pour us some of that while I get out of this giant white tent?” she asked. “I could certainly use something bubbly to start off the evening.”
“Mm.” There were no words Aspel really had, or thoughts she’d wish to share on this sort of occasion. Things simply seemed best left unsaid, and perhaps, her thoughts were best either completely ignored, or obeyed. Unfortunately, both of those things seemed completely unrealistic options given her current mindset and surrounding circumstances.
“I suspect I could, yes.” That seemed to be a sentence that was becoming a common part of her speech as of late, and even Aspel herself wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about that. A pause was taken before she shifted, moving forward into the room as Ari allowed, and feeling like the entire space, the world around her was alien once more.
A little over a month ago, wouldn’t she have offered to help Ari out of the dress? Suggested maybe they arrive to the party a bit late? Why did the smith feel like she was afraid of even the very idea of uttering those kinds of words now? Why did everything… Feel so broken. Why couldn’t she just… Function right. Not be addicted, not be condemning those around her, not…
“Glasses?”
Had it been a test of sorts? Ari supposed so -- in the past, Aspel would have gone for the row of tiny buttons along her back already. Well, she had known before she hinted, hadn’t she? No point in dwelling on it. “In that cabinet at the front of the room,” she said, gesturing; the dressing rooms for the lead actors at the Sphere were quite well-appointed, really. She’d occasionally encountered a stocked bar, even, though for obvious reasons it had always gone unused.
But if Aspel was going to put this wall between them, it didn’t mean Ari had to display modesty, either. She had nothing to be ashamed of -- indeed, there was nothing Aspel hadn’t seen for herself by now -- so once the flower was tucked into one of the vases littering the room, she had at the buttons, beginning to strip off layers of white until she was left in next to nothing, taking her time belting on a robe in place of the costume and bundling her long black hair (time to change that tomorrow, finally) up and off her neck with a large clip as if it might make the stuffy room cooler. “You still haven’t told me what you thought,” she said as she did this, as though this were any other backstage visit.
Really, she ought to have an award for all this free acting she was doing lately.
A brief nod of thanks was offered before Aspel shifted, thinking about which way to go, about how things used to be… Before she died, before she destroyed her family ties, before she even potentially destroyed the reputations of anyone who associated with her because they lived in a holy city, before… The smith realized that she’d never really dealt with anything in the past seven years of her life, simply ignored, and repressed it. There was a flicker of desire for honesty, to spill every thought, and feeling she had out to Ari, right here, right now. To let the bard in, to let Ari know just how desperately Aspel hadn’t a clue what she was doing, how to fix it, how to repair everything that had been broken about herself, and those around her, but….
It was Ari’s birthday.
She deserved better than that.
Everyone did on a day that should be happy for them… Maybe that was what Mag was trying to tell her just a day before but… Aspel had a hard time buying that knowledgeable condemning one of the people she cared about the most in the world to a more difficult life could be anything she should just blindly accept. Wasn’t she doing the same to Ari with things like this as well?
It was Ari’s birthday.
That could be ignored for tonight.
Shifting, Aspel moved to retrieve the glasses, pulling them down with ease, working open the bottle, and pouring out two glasses before bringing them over to the bard and offering one up to the other woman. However, before Ari could take the glass it would be pulled back, and the smith leaned in for a kiss.
Ari was surprised by the motion -- very much so, in fact, when Aspel had made such a careful show of keeping from engaging in any physical contact with her unless Ari herself initiated -- but this was better than an answer to her question, and she wasn’t complaining about the fact that she had not received her champagne glass, either. So she tilted her face up willingly, and seeing as Aspel’s hands were still occupied with the glasses, placed her own palms on either side of the other woman’s face, as if to hold her there for a few moments longer.
Strange, how these moments that had once been so normal highlighted the differences in her situation. And amusing, in its way, that she was having such thoughts in this room yet again. She was going to remember this show’s run -- and all that had accompanied it, up to and including oddly pivotal kisses in dressing rooms -- for a very long time.
When they parted, she was smiling. “I…” missed this “had hoped you might do that,” she said. Another memory surfaced, bright and full of uncertainty (had it really been a year? Had it really been only a year?), and she said, “Now it feels like my birthday, and it isn’t even midnight yet. I take that to mean that you will not be complaining about the opera.”
The sudden additional contact was unexpected, but somehow, through sheer strength of will, Aspel managed to keep herself from startling against the touch. She just had to… Focus on this night being for Ari, to focus on this being the bard’s birthday, her special day. A day that Aspel didn’t know she would ever see again at the rate with which her life seemed to regularly be at stake. With that thought, the smith actually relaxed a bit into the kiss, letting Ari take the lead.
“It is your birthday,” A beat, her voice dipping low before eyes slowly rolled up to meet Ari’s if she were so allowed. “and I would loathe to not make your wishes come true.” A slow sparkle - something that hadn’t been there for what felt like forever - ever so slight, that had nearly disappeared seemed to faintly shine. A hint, that perhaps, the person that Ari knew was - in some ways - still there, even if the smith had been wrapped in her own personal anguish and pain for weeks now. She was trying. As she kept telling Ari, she was trying.
A slight shift and the glass of champagne that she’d taken away just seconds before was offered up once again.
“It was exquisite, as I would expect from one Arielle Chiaro.” A slight smile was offered, one that - for the first time in weeks - began to reach her eyes.
Ari took the glass, clinking it against Aspel’s, thinking that she wished things were like this more often, that everything was almost easy for the first time in too long. “Well, I did think I ought to bring out my best as that is the last time I shall be singing poor Juliana’s story.” Quite possibly ever; even the beautiful music was tainted with sadness now for her.
But if tonight could start a healing of sorts, she would be grateful.
She drank from the glass, savoring the fizz of the champagne on her tongue, and commented, “You’ve picked quite a nice vintage. Spoiling me tonight, are you? I warn, this is likely to end in… dancing. One way or another.” Almost a tease, but also true. They were on boggy ground regarding some things, but certainly not this one.
She smiled brightly, sipping again at the liquid -- wasn’t it funny how quickly champagne disappeared? -- before she said, “I suppose I ought to make myself presentable then. No doubt the patrons of this district have seen odder things than actresses in dressing gowns getting thoroughly drunk in taverns, but I have some appearances to keep up so I should probably wear clothing, to complement you if for no other reason.”
“You did quite well.” The soft smile was sincere, and with a hand finally free, Aspel shifted moving to take up Ari’s available mandible. A kiss was brushed against the back of it before giving it a soft squeeze, and letting it go. “Had you expected something less?” The smile remained as the glass was raised up, the rim pressed against her lower lip for a moment with a smile before a sip was taken. Though the comment about dancing was not missed, and something inside of her had to be pushed down as memories rose to the surface of Ari’s bare skin, and body under soft moonlight. Faram. The thoughts were pushed down, just as her volatile feelings were as well. Those were not for tonight.
“If that is your wish.” A slight bow of her head was offered at the thought of Ari’s decision to dress, and the compliment. “I assure the accessories make the outfit more than the fabric itself.” And that was all that would be said about the earrings as far as she was concerned.
“Oh,” Ari said, “I don’t know, I think it is all of it together. But accessorizing is… quite important, in the end. One of the things I particularly enjoy about being female. And look at that, my champagne glass seems to be empty. How very tragic. Would you like to help me with that, darling?” she offered. “I can probably dress myself while you do, unless, of course, you’re of a mind to help with that, as well.”
There, that was as obvious an invitation as she would offer. She had no doubt it would be declined but…
Might as well point out that it was still on the table, she supposed.
“Ah, is that all?” Aspel interjected into Ari’s reasoning for enjoying her gender, a light tease to her tone of sorts…. Even if this was acting, even if this wasn’t at all entirely how Aspel felt - even if she wished it was how she really felt (removed from the world, safe, capable… special) - it almost felt natural in some ways of its own too. Had she just acted all these years? Was this who she really was? Where was the line between her self-created fantasy, and who she really was?
The glass was plucked from Ari’s hand easily, and the smith moved, going to refill the glass without thought until the reality of the bard’s finalized sentence dawned on her causing a pause in attention to the glass. Brows furrowed for a moment as her own glass was set down upon the table as well, the bottle retrieved, and Ari’s glass refilled. It would only take a moment, a glance cast back over her shoulder as she contemplated the situation a bit more. It felt like coming to the conclusion needed took an eternity even if only a few seconds in reality would pass.
Fetching up the glass, only a few steps were needed to close the gap between herself, and the bard before the champagne was offered up again, and a delicate kiss dropped against Ari’s shoulder.
“I do believe I may be capable of assisting with both.” The words were whispered, lips barely brushing over skin as hands shifted down. “If you would care to direct how I may help…?” And Aspel would leave the low volume sentence at that.
Another unexpected response, but hadn’t she hoped, just a little, that Aspel might come to her of her own accord? Ari’s lips curved up in a small smile as she loosened the knot on the belt holding her robe shut and took the glass. taking another slow drink before she gestured at the swatch of peacock-blue silk hanging from a hook on the wall which would resolve itself into a rather flattering (if short) cocktail dress. “If you would like to play temporary wardrobe mistress…” she turned her head, flashing a smile over her shoulder, “I am certain you can work it out. Demonstrably, there is not very much to it at all.”
And she couldn’t deny the idea of Aspel getting her out of the robe held enormous appeal… even if she imagined the dress would come to cover her skin almost as quickly as it would be exposed. Well, one step at a time, she supposed.
Getting Ari home was an exercise in care, patience, and pure Damascus steel levels of strength of will… Will not to crack, and retreat, will not to give into… Some deep seated more animalistic desire… Some… There were just too many things going on, and the run in with Drake - awkward, stiff, difficult, but still she tried - hadn’t helped things in several ways. Thankfully, it had been away from Ari. So, that was something at least.
Now though, maneuvering the bard through the streets late at night was a task that took Aspel’s total attention. Especially, with just how blitzed Ari had gotten over the course of the night. Yet, the smith never was one to disappoint - even if she believed herself differently - and after assuring Ari’s safe ascent up the stairs, helped to maneuver the other woman comfortably into her own apartment.
“I believe it may be best you sleep.” A kiss was pressed to Ari’s temple a couple seconds after getting the bard through the door. Now… If that would actually happen or not at this rate… Well… That was yet to be seen.
As for Ari herself, the world had become a cheerful blur of color and sound, far more pleasant a place, she had to note, than the last time she had had this much to drink. Perhaps it was simply that her night had been a series of quite pleasant surprises one after the other, not to mention good company, free drinks, and lively music. Not the least of her reasons for being merry this evening was standing beside her. How long had it been since Aspel had been herself around her? There had been some oddnesses around the edges, but… such things were easily ignored as her tally of drinks consumed continued to rise. This had been more attention than she’d received from Aspel in weeks, and she hadn’t fully realized just how much she’d missed it until she’d had a taste of it again.
So she giggled and swayed and continued clutching at Aspel’s shoulder for balance as she kicked off her heels. “Sleep,” she agreed, her accent made thicker by the quantity of alcohol consumed. “I love sleep. Bed’s that way --”
At which point she promptly attempted to walk into a bookshelf.
A hand shifted, quickly moving to rest at Ari’s lower back in attempts to support the other woman as she swayed while trying to remove her footwear. Though, the single accent thickened word from Ari caused Aspel to swallow hard, trying to remind herself that engaging in… Those sorts of activities may not be in her best interest this eve. “Indeed you do.” The number of times it had been brought up, and the smith’s personal experience with attempting to wake the bard spoke volumes to that.
“Ah!” Hands jerked out, feet planted firmly to grasp at Ari and attempt to alter the bard’s movement trajectory. “I believe while bookshelves and bed both start with b, one would be far more comforting than the other.” Wrapping her arms carefully around the bard she attempted to control the other woman’s movement, and path walked to assure the least harm would come to her possible.
“Whoops!” was really the only appropriate response, along with another laugh. But she was docile enough and allowed herself to be led, even though her propensity to trip over her own two feet was pretty high tonight. That was all right -- Aspel wasn’t going to let her fall. Whatever else had changed between them, she felt confident in that much and proceeded with blind optimism through the flat and towards the bedroom area.
Her knees bumped the mattress and she let herself drop sideways, dress and all, with one hand reaching out and grasping for whatever fabric she could reach. Somehow, there was still the worry that the moment she settled down and seemed in no immediate danger of colliding with the furniture that insisted on getting in her way, Aspel would turn around and go. But if Ari held on to her, she would have to stay!
Who said drunk people couldn’t command logic?
Thankfully, no more incidents - or near incidents for the bard at least - would occur before Ari flopped quite ungracefully upon the bed. Aspel was about to speak, to make comment about the bard’s current state of dress, and how it likely would be terribly uncomfortable to sleep in such clothing, and that it obviously wouldn’t be good for the dress either. Though, the sudden latching onto her clothing caused a flash of surprise. Her thoughts were instantly torn once more. Instead of going one way or another however, the earlier thought was focused on again.
“I believe that if you are to rest, you may be best served by not sleeping in your dress.” Really, it was the safest route she had.
“Wellllllllllllllllll,” Ari drawled, “you could always help with that. The room is spinning.” Reason enough not to try for her own zipper. And really, now that she was prone, she didn’t think that trying to stand up again was going to do her any favors. At least she’d managed to get rid of her shoes so really, she was halfway there.
Aspel’s mouth opened to speak, to give a response to whatever Ari was going to potentially suggest, and… Then closed with a slightly amused look, and a sigh when commentary about the world spinning was made. Well, that certainly would take care of anything else that could be a… Problem. Now wouldn’t it?
“Ah, well.” A pause as the smith’s eyes rolled over the woman on the bed holding onto the sleeve of her jacket. “I suspect I can.” Taking a moment, her heels were carefully toed off, before the jacket was removed - the sleeve Ari held being replaced with a hand - and tossed over to the couch. Turning back to the bard, Aspel’s free hand would gesture for Ari to roll herself appropriately so that the smith could get at the parts she needed. “If you would not mind, of course.”
“I never mind you getting your hands on me,” Ari responded, her words muffled by the pillow as she managed to roll herself over onto her stomach. “I think you’re the one who minds.” If she’d been sober, it was likely she would have held it back, but it slipped out, mumbled words against her pillowcase, a bit sadder than she’d have liked. “But it’s my birthday,” she murmured, “so today’s special. Right?”
Because hadn’t Aspel been indulging her tonight?
Aspel could have written the first statement off with ease, and in fact, she had been doing so to things like that all night. It wasn’t until her fingers had already begun to pick at the zipper, and respective fabric to assure ease of movement for the zipper, that she found herself freezing at the rest of what the bard had to say. Her throat suddenly felt tight however, and her mind scrambled, trying to find a smart response, a retort of any sort at all to dismiss the suddenly serious feeling that had settled like a heavy stone in her gut but… The smith wasn’t sure she could manage it.
Shifting, Aspel finalized pulling the zipper down, and then leaned forward a bit - fear and panic spiking internally - to let her fingers stroke down over the bit of skin now revealed on Ari’s back.
“I suspect that perhaps I must ask why you believe I mind, and also as to your meaning regarding the specialness of today in relation to that of your birth.” She thought she understood but… Lately, it felt like nothing ever made sense in her head anymore.
“Because,” Ari said. It wasn’t much of an explanation, though in her current state it was the best she could manage to give. Couldn’t Aspel see it for herself? It was so obvious. Where once they had shared easy affection, now everything was…
Stilted.
Much like her attempt to wriggle out of the dress without turning over. “You’re supposed to be nice to people on their birthdays,” she attempted to explain, “so today is special.” Turning her head to rest her cheek on the pillow, she squinted and attempted to bring Aspel’s face into focus. What expression would she find there?
“Are you going to leave?”
It wasn’t much of an explanation, but… Aspel could at least guess what Ari could potentially be hinting at. Though, there was no time to fall into a deeply pensive state, no where to retreat to in this house, within these walls, and falling into her own mind, well… The bard was shifting, moving about, and the smith snapped herself out of it before moving to begin help - slowly, carefully - with the removal of the dress that Ari seemed to desperately want out of.
“I suspect it is.” Aspel confirmed, the words a bit absently before a pause, consideration being given to the question. Had she really even thought that far ahead? Part of her instantly replied with ‘yes’, but that was more so because now she ran from everything, not because…
“Did you wish it so?”
“No.” That much, drunk or not, was easy. She found the hand she had held before the process of getting her out of her clothing had begun, grasped on to it as she had earlier with the jacket. “Stay,” she said. After a moment, she added, “Please?”
Even if it was only because it was her birthday or… some other convoluted reason (she was drunk and Aspel was confusing even when she was sober), she didn’t want the other woman to go.
“Then it shall be.” Aspel concluded simply after Ari’s request for her to stay, even as panic struck in both her emotions, and mind. Yet, the smith would not allow that feeling to be seen, to be experienced by… What she was beginning to understand to be, an incredibly fragile bard that lay before her. Surely, she had known some level, or understood some extent, but here, now, in this moment… Ari seemed fragile enough that with one wrong word, she might just…. Break.
Swallowing, a soft squeeze was given to Ari’s hand. “I suspect I should get ready for bed as well then, no?” Which meant assuring Ari was comfortable for sleep, and either stripping bare herself or…. Trying to find any clothing herself or…. Drake…. May have left to dress in for the night but… Wouldn’t that likely just make Ari feel worse? There was no way to fully win unless… Shifting, her own heels were pushed so that they would not be tripped on in the morn. “May I have my hand so that I may undress?”
“All right,” Ari agreed, reluctantly relinquishing her grip after a moment. “Just don’t go. You said you wouldn’t.” And Aspel hadn’t broken her word to Ari before, now had she? Not when it counted, and this did. Despite her drunken stupor, or perhaps because of it, she was sure Aspel was aware of the fact.
With that said, she began her slow and deliberate attempt to get under the thin blanket she used in summer; she had just managed it when she felt Aspel’s weight settle on the bed. Half-asleep already, she rolled over, attaching herself to the other woman like a metaphorical barnacle (as long as she held tightly enough, Aspel wouldn’t go) and placed a tired, sloppy kiss somewhere in the vicinity of Aspel’s collarbone. She muttered something that sounded suspiciously like happy birthday to me before her breathing became deep and even, and it was obvious that she had fallen almost instantly asleep.
It was a boon that her clothing, and other various items had been left within arms’ reach the night before. For when she woke, the only things that were immediately obvious was that she was not in her house, and a familiar - yet alien - feeling of another - smaller - body clinging to hers caused an internal spike of panic before it calmed. Memories of the night before, of forced acting normal, of attempting to make Ari’s birthday grand, of… Stripping naked, and climbing into bed with the bard came flooding back.
Her body had a few more scars now than it had the last time Ari may have been acquainted with it, and the thought made the smith oddly self conscious for the briefest of moments before it passed.
However, the thing that stuck the most was the… Realization of the night before as a desperately fragile bard grasping at whatever part of Aspel she could reach with that…. Odd sort of desperation the smith wasn’t sure she’d ever seen turned towards her in such a way before.
Aspel shifted, Ari glommed on more, and a low, controlled sigh slipped out. She should leave, should write a note, fetch a glass of water with some aspirin, and… Leave. Yet, something inside of her just… Couldn’t bring herself to do it either. A reach for her communicator was made, and a message was typed out for Drake, and Bram. It was short, simple, and sweet. ‘I will be unable to come in today. My apologies. I will take care of all matters first thing tomorrow morn.’ With that it was sent, the communicator was shut off, and placed off to the side as one arm shifted to wrap around Ari, and eyes wandered beginning to count the specks on the ceiling.
She likely counted quite a great number of them before the woman all but wrapped around her shifted and groaned, eyes squeezing shut as it to block out the minimal light (bless whoever had thought to leave the curtains drawn -- which had probably been herself, in preparation). Her head was about ready to split open.
But…
She could still feel surprise when she realized there was still a warm, naked body pressed against hers. Even with all of her talk of birthdays being special (Faram, such eloquence only came with vast quantities of wine), she’d fully expected to wake up alone.
She attempted to speak, had to clear her throat and try again before anything resembling words would come out: “Aspel?” That she was surprised would be obvious, but she didn’t recall inviting anyone else back -- hadn’t wanted to invite anyone else back -- and the feel of skin against hers was familiar, even if the ridge of scar tissue on the other woman’s rib, where her hand had landed, was not.
Her first response was to swallow, to try to clear any extra thoughts, or feeling of panic from her mind, and chest. It would only take a moment before a low “Mm.” Was given in response to her name, and the feeling of a hand landing against - what she knew to be - one of her fresher scars earned the faintest flinch. It was always strange adjusting to the feel of fingers being pressed against - somewhat newly - healed scars.
“Do you require water?” Her voice was soft, the arm wrapped around Ari shifting so that fingers could gently brush against the bard’s back.
The first answer that came to mind -- no, just stay here -- was quickly discarded. She was no longer drunk and… Ajora, she didn’t know all of what she’d said the night prior, but hopefully Aspel would play at selective amnesia. She was still here, which had to count for something.
So, with a bit of regret, she shifted, loosening her grip on the other woman’s body, allowing her her freedom to rise from the bed if she so wished. “Water sounds… amazing.” And it did; her throat was parched and the pounding at her temples was impressive. Water was the first step in making that better. “I’ve got an antidote in the drawer,” she added, beginning an attempt to fumble for it herself. Suddenly, being in possession of all her faculties seemed crucially important.
“Mm.” With the request for water, Aspel shifted, retracting her arm carefully out from under the bard, and standing from the bed she paused. “If you would not mind waiting, I could obtain it for you, and likely cast cure.” There had to be at least a handful of new scars - from her death, from the continued fight after her death, from the elementals and azers - that could easily be sussed out with her profile mostly on display for the other woman to see.
However, the easy line of sight - between shelves, and piles of things - reminded her just how open Ari’s flat was. With that Aspel moved to retrieve the desired water along with anything else that she thought may be of use, or Ari directed that would be of need.
By the time Aspel returned with the water, Ari had managed to sit up and push her hair out of her face (what had been artfully tumbled the night prior had turned to hopelessly tangled, but she;d sort it out in the shower, she was certain). She reached for the glass, downing its contents in three greedy sips. The water tasted almost as good as the wine had last night -- almost -- and the antidote, which Aspel had thoughtfully fetched and uncorked for her, tasted vile but was also effective, clearing her thoughts and lessening the pounding in her head to a dull throb.
She looked up at Aspel then with a grateful smile and said, “I think you may have just saved my life.” Which was a gross exaggeration (and possibly something that ought not be said between the two of them), but what did that matter? “Thank you.” For still being here, she didn’t add. Instead, she patted the sheet next to her, a wordless invitation for Aspel to join her once again, though somehow she could not envision the other woman lying about in bed with her until mid-afternoon (if it wasn’t that time already) on a Monday.
Concern flitted across her face as Ari downed the water, and antidote quickly one after the other. The smith would give things a moment, waiting to see how the bard’s stomach settled with the newly added parts - the comment regarding the saving of lives allowed to pass between the two of them without word - before a glance was given towards the gesture for her to sit.
A brief pause was taken, seeming to consider the offer before Aspel moved, climbing - carefully - back onto the bed, and keeping an eye on Ari’s condition then shifted to pull the other woman into her arms.
“You are welcome.” Would be all that was offered before a soft kiss, and a low murmur were pressed against Ari’s shoulder with the faint green light of a cure spell springing to life to take remove whatever pains may linger in the other woman’s life.
And the bard did indeed feel worlds better -- between the antidote and the cure, almost herself again, aside from tousled and hungry. Neither of those really mattered all that much, though, considering Aspel seemed to be willing to continue to indulge her. Maybe (probably) it was a bit pathetic of her to cling so desperately to this sudden affection, but Ari couldn’t bring herself to care, for the sake of pride or any other reason. So she would take it while it was offered, and hope that this was the start of a new norm and not an exception.
Happy birthday to me, indeed. But she couldn’t just sit here and say nothing, much as she might have liked to prolong the moment. Still, she could snuggle in for just a little while and say, entirely honestly, “This is nice.” Better than, but nice was… safe. “I wonder,” the sentence was interrupted by a yawn -- now that she was not quite so miserable, her body seemed more inclined to start waking up properly -- “what time it is?”
“Mm.” Came the non-confirmatory response to Ari’s thoughts on the matter of how pleasant this situation was. Aspel, on the other hand, struggled with a swirl of emotions, thoughts, and urges that had decided to rear their ugly heads all at once. Though, at the new ponderings that the bard proposed an eyebrow rose. Aspel hadn’t paid much attention to the time whereas it… Seemed irrelevant in the time, and well… Her own head had taken over with thoughts on a series of things that made it feel like not much time had passed at all.
“I fear I know not.” Shifting - her arms loosened, but did not remove - Aspel shifted in attempts to glance back towards her communicator for the time.
“Because,” Ari said, deciding not to protest the movement, “now that my head isn’t attempting to split open, I do believe I may actually be hungry.” Her stomach had settled well after the antidote and the Cure -- lucky her, it was made of metaphorical cast iron, unless she was waterborne -- and now was reminding her of its relative emptiness. Food had seemed unnecessary her fifth or sixth glass in last night.
“I don’t suppose,” she ventured, “you’d like to get breakfast with me? Which is likely to be lunch to the rest of the world. You could always join me in the shower first,” she added -- a daring invitation, really, that was likelier than not to be shot down -- “or not. I need one regardless, to be fit for public consumption.”
“Then you should eat.” In instances like this, the simple solution was always the best. A thought was given to scrounging around Ari’s apartment, to see what the bard had available, and if - in theory - Aspel could make anything of it, but… As Ari had been having show after show, it seemed highly unlikely that she’d have much of anything about… Possibly aside for some spirits. Which a drink also didn’t sound bad about now either.
“Ah.” A beat, as Aspel’s gaze shifted, seeming to consider the proposition for a second before the other part was tacked on, and her entire train of thought seemed to freeze. Would…. Could she…. How could…. But if…. A thousand thoughts, and not a single one managed to make it to completion except….
“And if…. I would..?”
It was vague enough that Ari had to ask, "If you would... breakfast or the shower? Or both? The shower is obvious enough, and for breakfast, might I suggest the Wren? In either case, I suppose we ought to get out of bed and get started." She rose, finally, eschewing the robe that hung on a hook across the room -- why bother? -- as she began walking towards the bathroom.
Ideally, Aspel would join her. And if not, hopefully she'd at least still be here by the time Ari had made herself presentable.
“I…” A beat fell for a moment, something instantly torn by the question, and… “What if both?” Aspel confirmed, trying to make herself sound more assured than she really felt, with a slight hesitance lingering around the edge of her voice. Of course, Ari was already removing herself from Aspel’s grasp, and the bed before the smith felt she was barely even beginning to function properly at all. As always, the bard was several steps ahead of her. Regardless, Aspel’s eyes followed along behind the other woman, observing the well missed form. What did she do now?
A hard swallow was taken before Aspel wetted her lips, and extracted herself from the bed. Should she follow? Should she stay here? Should she…. And perhaps too much thought was exactly the problem as she found herself once again falling into a spiral of possibilities, and fear. Perhaps, not thinking was the answer today.
“Do you still have any of my shirts and pants?”
“Bottom drawer of the dresser,” she answered over her shoulder. She had a few items that had been left behind over the years -- most of them, she realized, probably belonged to Aspel or Drake at this point, though there were one or two other items she’d kept mixed in. Regardless, Aspel would certainly find something suitable to wear there, in a far more appropriate size than anything in Ari’s closet.
At the bathroom door, she turned and said, “If you’re joining me, by all means, don’t be shy. If not, I’ll” be very disappointed “attempt to leave some hot water.” Keeping it light seemed the best approach.
A slight nod was given to the answer, one comprehending, yet thoughtless all at once. Was this a leap? Why was this suddenly so drastically different? She’d showered with Ari before, why did this suddenly feel like a much different thing, a sort of step, a sort of… The horrifying thought was pushed from her mind. How she had gotten here, how the smith had fallen into such a comfortable pattern was because she hadn’t thought, and well… Why should she? Aside from the obvious implications that it may have for Ari’s career, and social status of being around a fell knight.
No, Aspel wasn’t so desperately afraid of that, she was afraid of….
Something else entirely.
But that didn’t need to be here nor there.
Clearing her throat, a glance was given towards the drawer before Aspel found herself heading in the direction of the bath.
“I hardly believe shyness the issue.” Shifting a kiss was placed against the side of Ari’s head before she pushed the door open, signaling for the other woman to move in first.
“No, I don’t suppose either of us have an abundance of that,” Ari mused as she entered the bathroom first and began adjusting the water for the proper temperature (just shy of ‘scalding’ seemed about right in the moment). Honestly, she was improvising now -- she’d been so sure that Aspel wouldn’t consent to the shower -- the other woman had been doing everything she could to avoid any possibility of intimacy for weeks, and even Ari’s birthday did not seem reason enough to assume that things would go back to where they had been before everything.
Well, improvisation was a necessary skill for any actress worth her salt.
The water now running, she stepped into the tub and held out a hand to Aspel to pull her in alongside.
This may have been one of her worst ideas to date. Thoughts kept stumbling through, threatening to throw her into a panic at a seconds notice, yet at the same time, she kept forcing them back. They were simply enjoying each other’s time. As they had been doing for…. Years.
Faram. How had they been doing this for years?
How many times had…
“No sex.” Aspel blurted out - a bit too sudden for even her own tastes - as Ari reached to offer her hand and the smith’s eyes fell upon it. “Not… Not today.” The smith managed to somewhat stammer out uncomfortably, and obviously somewhat self-consciously followed by a beat. “My apologies.” Which probably sounded the nearly the most forlorn and apologetic she had ever spoken to the bard before in her life while eyes still rested on the outstretched hand. Hopefully, Ari wouldn’t mind, hopefully the abundant well of patience that seemed to come from nowhere when it came to her relations with Ari hadn’t dried, at least, not yet.
Though, if… Well, maybe in the end it would be better if it had.
Though Ari was disappointed, she was also not surprised; she did a passable job of not letting her disappointment show. And Aspel, too, seemed to be struggling with something (though Ari had to push away the unpleasant thought that perhaps what Aspel was struggling with now was a sudden loss of interest; that was a dark possibility to ponder sometime that was not now).
“You should never have to apologize for something like that,” Ari said, and despite the sudden sadness they seemed to share (if not, she suspected, for quite the same reasons), she meant it. Her advances were Aspel’s to refuse, after all. They owed each other nothing -- not even explanations. “Why don’t you come and help me get the tangles out of my hair?” That said, she dunked her head under the spray, working her fingers through the tangled mass of hair, trusting Aspel would join her by and by.
And if it was awkward, well, they’d hobble through it somehow. Considering there seemed to be no way back to where they’d come from, through seemed the only remaining option.