arda (ex_smokey848) wrote in faeparties, @ 2014-07-31 16:00:00 |
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So far, in the brief time that Jonathan had been….here, wherever here was (he wasn’t so sure if he believed what came through on the buzzing wisp) he had managed to get very lost, very confused, and frankly, very scared. The latter was not unusual for him, but the former two were far from his taste or standard mode of being. Jonathan prided himself on his Google schedule on his iPhone and finding the answer to everything with a Swype of his fingers. And if that failed, then hit the books, in the classic way. Crowdsourcing information via wisp wasn’t to his taste (mainly because he wasn’t entirely certain said wisp was real or a part of his imagination). And frankly, he think he preferred the theory that he somehow ate a bad mushroom in a sandwich rather than he’d been more or less, kidnapped by mystical creatures straight out of Faerie Queen. Still, even as he stood at the edges of the ballroom, he saw all sorts of beings - resembling humanity or not in various forms. All manners of distraction were had, from dancing to conversation to - were they actually fucking right there? Something turned in his stomach. The exhibitionism crossed a line for him, though whether it was one of tolerance or familiarity, even he couldn’t say. He hastily returned his eyes elsewhere, shuffling along towards a safer space of the wall. Somewhat shadowed and good for watching, but not too dim to be concerning - besides the bright wisp was still pestering him to get out there. Not a chance. Arda was quite fond of mortals. Oh, perhaps not as fond as some were, constantly inviting a steady stream of lovers into their arms and into their beds (although she did do her fair share of that too). No, Arda simply was fond of them, with or without their clothes, their minds working at such an odd little pace. They focused on the strangest things, discarded others, and thought so much and so little all at once. It was quite disarming, really, and she did so love to watch them come and go. This time it was one mortal in particular who enticed her, fluttering along the edges of the ballroom, being drawn to the spectacle there and, just as quickly, being pushed away by it. Poor thing, so torn, so uncertain. She followed him at a polite distance, or what former lovers had told her was polite. Drifting in and out of shadows, slinking past revelers and skirting past the tables, she was beside him soon enough. The hem of her charcoal blank dress brushed along his foot, spinning towards him as she came near, her hair bearing the scent of incense. “Are you not,” her words came softly, gently undercutting the sounds of the party, an intimate voice for his ears alone, “enjoying the feast?” She had stepped from the shadows fully now, the darkness clinging to her skirts for as long as it was able to until she was before him. Her bodice was delicately formed ash clinging to her skin, and it rippled past her hips, little tendrils of smoke rolling onto the floor beside her bare feet. He hadn’t noticed her until dress had touched his foot and Jonathan, being Jonathan, of course had jumped. He spun to find a woman - fae? Fae? - more beautiful than any he’d ever met in person, with features that could have come from an illuminated manuscript. And her clothing wasn’t anything close to normal human fabrics. Jonathan gulped. Then cleared his throat awkwardly, reaching a finger in his collar. Attempting for more air though from terror or something else was unclear. What was the saying? Don’t shit where you eat? Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth? As a whole, if this woman was Fae and right before him, don’t piss them off or be cursed indefinitely? At least, he reasoned to himself he had his wits about him. Even if they were slow. “I’ve just gotten here. I’m still taking things in,” he managed, with a somewhat croaking voice. “Are you-“ It was a stupid question before he finished it, but somehow it blurted out before he could stop himself. “One of the Fae?” So much for wits. Her laugh was immediate, a soft sound that drifts to him in the space between them. “I’m Seelie,” she offered, figuring that would answer his question better than a simple yes. For she was fae, but of a certain sort. A friendlier sort. “What is so hard to take in?” She canted her head to the side as she looked at him, a small smile lifting the corner of her mouth as she slowly stepped closer. “We have food and drink, and dancing.” She said it with a hint of a wistfulness. She did love dancing. “What else is there to take in?” “Seelie,” he repeated. He knew the word, not from people’s explanations (that was vague in itself) but rather from tomes in the archives. He’d never been entranced with that era like others, but he had devoured information as a child and as an adult. It took him a moment to admittedly, appreciate that he knew that before he was able to recognize it did mean that she was likely to be more friendly. Despite himself, the smallest trace of a smile, however awkward, did cross his face. It vanished quickly, but it had appeared all the same. “One moment, I was in the park by my house. The next I’m here. It’s a bit sudden,” he said, with a bit of a rush. A bit of irritation. Mainly with himself. Mainly with being flustered with her moving nearer. He was terrible with people, but he did notice how she lingered over the word. Dancing. That was somewhat terrifying in itself. He remembered his sister’s wedding and lessons for weeks prior, paid for by her just so he wouldn’t be a complete embarrassment. “There’s a lot to process. But I guess-” That she was stunning and he wasn’t sure how he managed to string together a phrase at all? Jesus, that girl over the wisps was right. “You’re right.” “Yes, Seelie,” she teased out with a grin, hoping her bright smile would encourage his, small as it was, to widen. Though it disappeared, hers remained and it continued on, growing more thoughtful, as he told her his story. He was nervous, that much he could see, but she was used to such reactions to her. “It isn’t as much as you think it is,” she said with a soft laugh. Closing the last distance between them, she slid her arm effortless around his, her hand resting on his sleeve, a whisper of weight against his skin. “You weren’t at a party, and now you are. You have a feast for the senses everywhere you look.” Her free arm gestured to the rest of the ball, to the dancers, to the diners, to the couples stealing away into dark corners. “The only thing to do,” she whispered as if sharing some secret, her fingertips curling under his chin to bring his attention to her, “is to enjoy yourself.” He hadn’t thought he could be any more tongue-tied. At thirty-six, it was frankly, quite embarrassing to be this completely voiceless over a woman. The fact that she was some mysterious magical one, didn’t exactly assuage his small amount of pride. Yet her light touch was enough to leave him gulping, trying to remember what he wanted to say again. He thought he should protest: say yes, it was in fact quite a change. Especially for him. But his mind had gone rather blank, his heart was thudding quite a bit. And she kept saying something about enjoying things and that was a foreign, yet alluring concept. Damn it. “And how do you think I should do that?” Her smile was immediate, beatific, and the fingers that lifted his chin curled to cup his cheek. The fae around them tittered and stared, but Arda gave them no notice. Her dark eyes danced with mirth as she held his gaze, no other creature to distract her. “Shall I tell you?” The smile deepened. “Or shall I show you?” Either seemed like a tempting - dangerous offer. Or maybe that was the fear of this place. The fear of usual rejection? The standard pushing away? Something or another, enough to leave him wary and tongue-tied again. He supposed, in a way that was all too logical and removed for this situation, that he was always more of a visual versus auditory learner. “You can show me,” Jonathan said, barely managing the words. Her smile deepened, the secret she kept there flitting to the surface to entice him closer. Show, he asked, and she sealed their deal. Effortlessly she rose up, as if standing on the tips of her toes though her dress of smoke still cloaked her legs. Her arms looped over his neck and though she leaned into him, she weighed nothing, her body a whisper against his. Her kiss was sweet and slow, lingering long after she pulled away. “Come,” she whispered, that secretive smile returning as pressed to his side and wound her arm around his. Gently she tugged him along with her as she turned them away from the ballroom and towards far more interesting places of the palace. “I have even more to show you.” |