the light catches the eye but shadows have (moretosay) wrote in summerview, @ 2019-02-23 06:37:00 |
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Entry tags: | briar maeve naga, complete, julius fírinne, player: alice, player: lyddia |
See it through, and for you I would take my time [part 2]
Apparently, expressive and opinionated was his only mode. That, and sleeping. Which she had said before and she stood by it, thank you. “Nope. You’ve had enough compliments for the night, no more. Cutting you off. Brat.” He was definitely not getting a of course you’re handsome out of her, and he could take that stubborness to the bank. Besides, she was still hoping to get some gossip out of him one of these days from all that lurking he did at his place. It had to be for something since he only seemed to work on some nights, other than just drive his FoH up the wall, which was his favorite hobby apparently. And it was true she probably did have a few more than him, enemy wise, including the Cait Sidhe, but she wasn’t going to bring that incident up again. Though she did raise an eyebrow, “True. Are you sure you still want to stick around then? You might break a nail.” As one of her’s glided along his skin, gentle but bold.
Not a job. A normal social outing, like normal people. It had her blinking at him again, “Oh. Yeah, I’d like that.” It would be the first time they had gone out together, but this wasn’t a bad way to test the waters, “Wait. Like a date?” Surprise and a bit of confusion lighting up her features in such a clear way that the fact that she had called him the expressive one was a bit ridiculous, honestly. “They probably already think I’m bonkers, might as well prove it.” One shoulder shrugged, though it was half assed to say the least. If anyone would think she was barmy for being genuinely interested in Julius, it was his employees. And possibly his sister. Though that would be an interesting conversation that she wasn’t looking forward to, even more so if their father emerged from whatever hole he had crawled into. She soaked in the affection he was giving so freely with a contented sigh, basking in it like a pleased cat in a sunbeam, the tension slowly draining as her body relaxed, “What would you do if I fell asleep like this?” The question was equally parts curious and playful, gaze half lidded as she focused on him like she was memorizing the image of him so at ease and comfortable with her rarely still fingers still tracing nonsense patterns on his skin. Julius only smirked at that. In a way that was a compliment on its own, knowing that technically she could do so again, she just wouldn’t. “Oh no,” he said all fake dramatics and eyerolls again, “Whatever will I do?” He knew she was trouble when they met and not much had changed in the intervening years. Was that supposed to be discouraging somehow? Well when you put it that way it did sort of sound like a date, but they hadn’t really put a label on this and he’d been bit by that before. But then again. It didn’t feel stressful to call this a date, so… “I mean, we can call it that if you want to, I don’t mind.” Because just because it wasn’t a problem for him didn’t mean it wasn’t for her, particularly when her expression read as surprised and confused? “Think or know?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. Errol was the last thing on Julius’s mind. Anyone in Summerview would certainly have a plenty to say about the matter of them and whatever this relationship was and that was enough. Errol had lost his rights to make any relationship suggestions when he betrothed Thistle to someone 400 years his senior. “Hmm,” he hummed contemplating her question while his skin felt lit up under her finger tips. “Probably fall asleep here as well and wake up with a nasty kink in my neck.” But that’s what the witch ointment was for. Two hundred some odd years and he was still ridiculous, but instead of looking truly annoyed she laughed, tilting her head into his leg so it was muffled. “Who knows, maybe you’ll get bored, I’ve gotten awful tame the last few years.” Except. Except the job she was about to pull, that wasn’t Maeve like at all. In fact, it was really a few steps out of Briar’s normal modus operandi so to speak. Had it not been for Julius, or the fact that she really didn’t like those sorts of people, she might not have taken it. Hell, even with the last factor, she might have just sent it to someone else — like Ivaylo. A date. Briar contemplated it, the weight of it across her mind, trying to decide how she felt about it. Considering the last time she had tried dating, with several layers of intent to sincerely try it had bit her in the ass. In a way she still worried about sometimes, if she was being honest. James knew too much about her. Except. Except. Julius knew far more, and that didn’t worry her. Fuck. Briar was going on a real date. For the first time since 1915. Her fight or flight instincts seemed to open up their eyes before settling back down for a sunbeam esque nap at the thought, so she supposed it was fine. At length she finally smiled up at him and lifted his shirt so she could place a chaste kiss on his ribcage, then lips lingering for a moment, “A date it is then.” Before she pulled back, a too innocent expression on her face as she smoothed down his shirt again. “Shush. My employees like me. So there.” Real mature, Briar. Not that she was actually insulted, but she reached out to pinch his thigh anyway for the principle of the thing. “Hmm.” And she sat up slow, stretching into downward dog in such a way that she was still partially draped over him and could roll to one side and the other to stretch before sitting up all the way. The rest of her wine was tossed back, “Just because you’re a pain in my neck doesn’t mean you need to fuck up your own.” Her eyes were drawn to his back porch, or deck, whatever, where she had already accumulated an odd amount of memories in such a short (in the big scheme of things) time, “I’m glad I didn’t leave on a fight, you know?” “Only boring people are bored, Briar,” he reminded her, eyebrows raised pointedly at that. “And I have a hard time believing you’ll ever be completely tame.” Or boring. She was far too complicated. There was no way he’d peel back all of her layers, no matter how much she might trust him. There were simply too many. And even if he did, so what? She was still complicated, even with everything exposed as much it was now. Knowing more about her hardly made her less interesting. Oh. Well. That was an encouraging reaction. It pulled a sloppy sort of grin he couldn’t possibly recreate on command, and that feeling in his chest was back again. Tight but warm. Pleasant but strange. “I guess I’ll get tickets then.” So it was a date. A real date. Hopefully the sort of evening that would be slow and leisurely, not a rush to skip through to the end. If Julius was going to go through the trouble of calling something a date then it was better to do so with someone who respected the sanctity and purpose of dates. That is, being out in public with someone you wanted to be out in public with and enjoying their company. Learning about them in a different setting than you were used to being in. The basic point of dates. Julius snorted at that, rolling his eyes again. “Your employees should. I make no special dispensation for mine.” They were sort of two very different sets of people. “Well, then you should pick a better place to fall asleep,” he pointed out, arms raised over his head in his own lazy stretch, picking his glass back up to return to sipping it, because there was too much in it still to toss back, and he’d done that far too often lately. Still. They were generous sips. “I’m glad too.” Him and that damn phrase. She should make him a shirt with it for his birthday. Not that she knew when it was, and it’s not like The Summerlands used the common Gregorian calendar, he may not even know when it was anymore. Briar held a hand to her chest dramatically, going so far as to flutter her eyelashes, “Why Mr. Fírinne, that’s one of the nicest things you’ve said to me.” They were certainly on a streak of odd compliments and just...layered speech to one another, but it worked for them. It kept things interesting, and it helped her ease into, well, whatever this was. This was just further incentive for her to come back, wasn’t it? Briar found herself already looking forward to it. Being out and about with Julius, not being on a job or having a goal other than enjoying one another’s company. Seeing how they treated each other among others, or even how they reacted to things. Social outings without an endgame were new still to her. Best of all, she would be with someone she was genuinely comfortable with, could let her guard down and trust him to watch out for her, having to shape all of her reactions to fit someone else’s perception of her like she had with James. That being said, she was already feeling very Tulip for that night already. “I don’t remember the last time I went to a proper show.” Briar sighed wistfully, a soft smile directed his way, something she didn’t force and by the time she realized it was there — she let it linger before her eyes dropped from his face. It felt. Safe? Yeah, it felt safe to show that soft, open and vulnerable. Finally she stood and headed back to the kitchen to rinse out her glass, setting it on the drying rack before leaning against the wall to pull her boots back on. He did, in fact, know when it was, not that he celebrated it or anything. Though, she was right, it had been a task trying to figure out when it was in terms of human calendaring systems. But back when he was under 100, it meant something to keep track of the years so he’d figured it out. At this point though, it was just a day that came and went without fanfare. “Is it?” He asked, feeling strangely like they’d had this conversation not that long ago but where he was on the other end of it. “I’m pretty sure I’ve said plenty of nicer things.” Alright, maybe not nicer, but certainly there’d been other compliments. Tonight even. That was sort of the plan. Incentive to come back, that is. Though that was a strange thought. He’d never been anyone’s incentive to do anything. Neither on purpose, nor on accident. And yet, here he was, hoping he might be. “Too long then, clearly. Good thing we’re about to amend that.” No one should ever not remember the last time they did something that brought joy, after all. That insinuated life had become mundane. The soft smile she gave him inadvertently drew a similar one from him. Honestly, it was almost impossible not to when she looked at him like that. “Going home?” He asked, finally finishing off his own glass of wine. He supposed 5am would come quickly at this point. But still. There was a very sharp part of him that didn’t want her to leave. “Hmm.” Personally, Briar enjoyed this bit of deja vu turnaround on him, “I said one of, not the nicest, perhaps you should listen more?” The mock chastisement was topped off with a click of her tongue, the tsk tsk losing some of its impact with the way the corners of her corners of her eyes wrinkled with the happiness lurking not far under the surface. The thought of someone being upset if she didn’t return was odd and she wasn’t sure if it was positive or not. Briar was used to going through life with the general assumption she would be forgotten when she moved on from a place, and even if the memory of her lingered then it wasn’t really her anyway. Hence the reason she had been so surprised when he remembered her at all, especially so vividly. Taking it a step further and thinking he would be hurt if she didn’t return was another thing entirely. It would take her a bit to decide how she really felt about it, honestly. Such a new thing, a shake to her worldview, couldn’t be processed in a few hours. “Company worth getting dressed up for helps as well.” Briar had said he was done for the night, compliment wise, but fuck it was hard not to be sweet to him when he looked at her like that. Hell, she was born too old for butterflies, and she was definitely too old for them now. Yet. It had been over two weeks since they had slept in the same bed. Yes, she wanted it, but she wasn’t going to assume, nor was she particularly eager to possibly wake him up when she left. It didn’t stop her from wanting to hold onto this as much as she could before this particular job. Selfish. That trait of her’s had never bothered her about herself, but for a moment it did because it was him. “Yeah.” She finished pulling her boots on, “I’ll text you when I return home?” When the job was done? Before she got on the plane to come back? If she was too hurt to come back right away? Briar wasn’t sure what the protocol was for someone worrying about her, what he wanted. Ah, well she had him again. “Still, I’d hope my compliments continue to improve. Wouldn’t want them to get tired.” He took the crinkling of the corners of her eyes in with amusement, another grin splitting his lips. “And here I thought you were done complimenting me?” Wasn’t that what she had said? And here she was saying he was worth getting dressed up for. Although, as strong as his opinions were about fashion, he’d never been perturbed by Maeve’s holey sweatshirts and jeans--though she certainly cleaned up well--nor was there anything wrong with what Briar had on now, but still. “I look forward to seeing what you come up with. You always seem to clean up incredibly well.” Julius sighed, nodding as he pushed himself up off the couch and headed for the sink with his glass. “Yeah, alright.” The when and where didn’t matter so much, it was the fact she wanted to let him know when it was over and she was safe at all that seemed important. “So tomorrow or the next day?” That was what she’d said earlier. That it wouldn’t be long. A day or two right? Incredibly well seemed like such a high compliment from him, and she was glad her head was tilted down to hide her flushed face at it. Clearly he had a way with words, and any of them getting ‘tired’ seemed like such an absurd possibility she nearly laughed. And she had been sweet talked by some of the greats (they both had been, and that was still ridiculous, even this long after that revelation had come out). “Careful Thistle, I might start to think you actually like me.” Easier than saying that for someone like her his words meant a great deal, or just the fact that it came from him. More fun to tease him, even though that was revealing in and of itself. Ah, the fun that came with dancing with another clever person. Her eyes tracked him even as she sighed, running a hand through her hair and making her way to the door, “Yeah, something like that.” Because now she was worried about giving him a stronger time frame than she had already lest he call in the calvary. Briar leaned back against the door jam, listening to him rattle around in the kitchen and finding it oddly comforting, “Do I get a good luck kiss?” Teasing and light, wanting and needing to end the night on as positive (and maybe memorable) note as possible. It was one of his less often bestowed compliments, one that he saved for people who’d actually earned it. And. Well. He didn’t have two of her jackets for no reason. “Was there a question?” Was that one of those things that needed to be said and not implied? Because that one seemed like a given, considering. He rinsed the glass out and left it in the sink for the morning. He stepped away from the sink, drying his hands off with a towel hanging from the oven door. The question felt very familiar. Not a recent sort of familiar, more like a 93 years ago familiar. “Where have I heard that before?” He asked, stepping over to the doorway she was leaning against, smirk deepening with each step across the room. “Pretty sure I’ve heard that question before.” “Not anymore.” Because she believed him, and wasn’t that the real kicker? That she believed him and that didn’t scare her that is. It was never a given but he had shown it in action and words alike, the combination meaning more than any silly promises could. The tone, the smirk and his approach had her matching the expression and wishing that she didn’t have somewhere to be in the morning. It also had her standing a little straighter, head tilted to the side and giving him a pleased up down with her eyes, “It worked before, didn’t it? Risk is higher though, so you should try and be extra lucky.” Any illusion of coyness dropped for being challenging instead. Had she been Maeve at the moment or even Yukio, coquettish might have been her go to, but not like she was now. Thank Oberon for small victories. At least she believed that one. And for some reason hearing that put that tight feeling back into his chest, that only seemed to grow more intense the closer he got to her. What was that? It was like being out of breath except he was (at least he was pretty sure) breathing normally. “Well, I have been fairly lucky thus far. I suppose I could try to pass some of it to you.” Because that was how luck worked. But sometimes magic did, so who knew? She’d been taller last time, but that didn’t stop him from recreating the original moment--jacket grab and all--to the best of his ability. “But also, I don’t think you’ll need it.” Or he didn’t want to believe she would anyway. It was easier that way. But anyway, he wasn’t about to argue with the logic. There was a reciprocal appreciative glance to go along with the smirk before he tilted his head down to hers, meeting her lips with the same intensity of the kiss he’d gotten from Sebastian almost a century earlier. They hadn’t been on a date, and they were long past their first kiss, but when he looked at her like that and said the sorts of things he had that night it made it easy to forget this wasn’t their first time dancing. The thrum of anticipation, excitement and a sort of giddiness she didn’t know she was capable of rushed from her toes to her finger tips like static, “Six times lucky, I’d say. It’s the least you could do, really.” Probably not. But she could use something sweet to think about when she was waiting in a vent, couldn’t she? Except this was not a sweet kiss. Filled with that fire that ensured Sebastian had been drawn to Julius even when they hadn’t understood why yet, and she hadn’t been expecting it. One hand wound into his hair and the other around his waist and pulled him closer, passion, fears, and anxiety she couldn’t — and wouldn’t if she could — give voice to if she tried were poured into it as she let him press her back against the door. By the time she broke it she was out of breath, and not particularly embarrassed by it, “Thistle.” A deep breath, another, “Goodnight.” A glance over her shoulder as she opened up the door and stepped out, something in her eyes she wouldn’t admit to later. He probably could have argued that at least one of those six times was not lucky, though he supposed that the fact that they both made it out alive, maybe it was lucky after all. In any case, that wasn’t worth the argument either. Not when she was looking at him like that in anticipation. Sweet kisses were nice and all, but they weren’t the kinds of things that lingered for 90 odd years or gave someone an incentive to come home. And if any kiss was going to bring luck… It wasn’t a sweet one. His hands fell from the lapels of her jacket when she returned the kiss, one threading into her hair, the other on her hip, pulling her close even as he pressed her back against the door. There was no disguising the self-satisfied grin on his face when she pulled back, out of breath. But oh, then she said his name like that. His bones felt like liquid. So much so, he was pretty sure the door frame was the only thing holding him up. “Good night, Briar. And good luck.” |