I mean of course, it was awful that your carnival canopy got rained out and taken down, but that plus side is amazing!
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Congratulations on the job offer, Dot! *cheers*
I mean of course, it was awful that your carnival canopy got rained out and taken down, but that plus side is amazing!
I mean of course, it was awful that your carnival canopy got rained out and taken down, but that plus side is amazing!
Galina hadn't the least idea if her paper-thin ruse would hold any weight when they finally arrived on the third floor, but there was not the least chance she would second guess the gentlemanly accommodations being offered by the kindly, crippled Mr. Takahiro. He seemed quite contented with the Baronessa's company and, to the very last, Galina would not disabuse him of his more genial leanings.
Well, to the very, very last, at the least.
"Oh!" The Baronessa's mouth made a perfect little circlet of surprise as her eyes roamed the length and breadth of the high-ceilinged hallway that stretched out before them, its gothic-styled arches soaring over their heads to intricate peaks and gamboling curves among the solemn arcs.
Galina's mind raced. No, it did not seem the art-loving guise would serve here - at least not long enough to take her to the length of the hallway, to that tantalizingly just-out-of-reach doorway. There was no art hung on these plaster walls, relieved only by columns of shining dark woods that rose to the gothic arches several feet above them.
Galina chewed her inner lip thoughtfully for a moment, though the smile that suddenly lit the Baronessa's face betrayed not the least slyness, nor wolfish triumph - only wonder of course, and genuine joy. She clapped her hands happily - though delicately about her champagne flute - as she looked about.
"Mister Takahiro! No art. No paints. But... You like ark-i-tec-choor?" She pointed overhead to the arches, to the exquisite woodwork, finally availing herself of the opportunity she so obviously desired to run her fingers over the butter-soft wood columns of the hallway. Artlessly, she plucked the champagne glass from Souma's hand, nudging his shoulder gently as she offered him smiling encouragement to do exactly as she had, to run his fingers over the wood.
"Soft! Like... Like silk, no?" The Baronessa beamed so happily as her eyes traveled to the ceiling once more. "Is called... Gah-thik. Style is Gothic."
She turned about in the hallway with both glasses of champagne in her hand with a contented sigh. "You like, Mister Takahiro? Come see... See more? With me? More ark-i-tec-choor?" Her dark eyes went wide with hope as she searched his face with the sweetest of silent pleas. Long, thick lashes batted softly, as if to add weight to her appeal with every least flutter.
That was not to say, however, she truly waited for a full reply from her escort. Honestly, she did not believe for a moment after all, that dear Souma would refuse her, after all. The Baronessa lifted both the glasses she held helplessly, smiling so widely, the sweet sideways grin of a naughty child about to make some mischief or other.
"You choose, Mister Takahiro!" she laughed. "Pick door! Any door you like. We go... Go see! Find byoo-ti-ful!"
Well, to the very, very last, at the least.
"Oh!" The Baronessa's mouth made a perfect little circlet of surprise as her eyes roamed the length and breadth of the high-ceilinged hallway that stretched out before them, its gothic-styled arches soaring over their heads to intricate peaks and gamboling curves among the solemn arcs.
Galina's mind raced. No, it did not seem the art-loving guise would serve here - at least not long enough to take her to the length of the hallway, to that tantalizingly just-out-of-reach doorway. There was no art hung on these plaster walls, relieved only by columns of shining dark woods that rose to the gothic arches several feet above them.
Galina chewed her inner lip thoughtfully for a moment, though the smile that suddenly lit the Baronessa's face betrayed not the least slyness, nor wolfish triumph - only wonder of course, and genuine joy. She clapped her hands happily - though delicately about her champagne flute - as she looked about.
"Mister Takahiro! No art. No paints. But... You like ark-i-tec-choor?" She pointed overhead to the arches, to the exquisite woodwork, finally availing herself of the opportunity she so obviously desired to run her fingers over the butter-soft wood columns of the hallway. Artlessly, she plucked the champagne glass from Souma's hand, nudging his shoulder gently as she offered him smiling encouragement to do exactly as she had, to run his fingers over the wood.
"Soft! Like... Like silk, no?" The Baronessa beamed so happily as her eyes traveled to the ceiling once more. "Is called... Gah-thik. Style is Gothic."
She turned about in the hallway with both glasses of champagne in her hand with a contented sigh. "You like, Mister Takahiro? Come see... See more? With me? More ark-i-tec-choor?" Her dark eyes went wide with hope as she searched his face with the sweetest of silent pleas. Long, thick lashes batted softly, as if to add weight to her appeal with every least flutter.
That was not to say, however, she truly waited for a full reply from her escort. Honestly, she did not believe for a moment after all, that dear Souma would refuse her, after all. The Baronessa lifted both the glasses she held helplessly, smiling so widely, the sweet sideways grin of a naughty child about to make some mischief or other.
"You choose, Mister Takahiro!" she laughed. "Pick door! Any door you like. We go... Go see! Find byoo-ti-ful!"
The Solas Na Gelaí.
With a grim smile, the werewolf's amber gaze fell, as always - eternally - to her lover. She held her ebony clawed hand out to Thad, a silent invitation to the other half of her soul to join her while so many spoke. She felt so heavy - and yet somehow so hollow - with precious little to offer to this new gathering in Ardgroom, precious little to add to this conversation. All Veti had was her quiet fury, her solemn promise to a wolf she loved as her own brother, and these things howled within the confines of her head, silenced only by her lover's touch.
Siya offered to move them, if Jay-Jay or even Thad could somehow to determine the destination. Her dear friend seemed so contented, curled so easily into Atticus, as if her tiny, powerful body had been created to fit his demonic form.
And Veti listened to Atticus, letting his words roll over her. So, for all the sadistic joy the white wolf had taken murdering Aislinn, for nearly killing her, it had all only ever been a means to an end. Well, technically to the end. All this time, Aislinn had been custodian to such a powerful artifact, and Veti had not even realized something so vital until this very moment. She might have barked a bitter laugh if it wouldn't make her seem mad - and if she were sure she could stop herself once she started.
Veti listened to Henry, the import of his words running past her and through her. She had no arguments for the death of Fenrir at the dawn of Ragnarök, but its demise at the hands of Odin's son was only ever for coming of the true, prophesied Twilight of the Gods. What was happening at this moment was unprecedented, conformed to none of the Norse prophecies. Who could possibly know what rules were in play anymore?
She was so lost in her thoughts, following the threads of so many disparate conversations, Veti was almost surprised to realize Daisy was speaking to her directly. The Reaper had only just offered Artie to help with the tracking if need be, once they determined wherever the white wolf had fled. The space of several heartbeats passed as she listened to her precious friend, to the words Daisy offered that sank into her soul like a balm.
"Oh Daisy... " Veti bent her lupine face toward her Reaper friend, somehow managing a subtle, almost gentle smile despite the ivory fangs. Small tears began to well up in her amber eyes, as one clawed hand reached to gently cradle Daisy's cool cheek. "You took her over then? Aislinn... You took her over."
"Thank you Daisy. That could not have been an easy thing - to say the very least. But I am so grateful that it was you."
Veti could not even begin to speak to Aislinn's message for her, not trusting her voice wouldn't crack, or that she wouldn't dissolve in tears. And so she simply let her claw fall from Daisy's cheek to Artie's wide, ebony head, affectionately scratching behind the hellhound's velvety ears and jowls.
Later. Later, when she could truly grieve the only wolf sister she had ever known, even if it were for a few precious moments. Perhaps she would even return to Ardgroom in Aislinn's honor, to the place that had been her home once, and the ancestral home of the Teachglach Mac Tíre -
Veti's amber eyes widened, her entire body stiffening in shock. Her ebony hand still rested on Artie's head, but the standing stones, the deep Irish night and all her companions disappeared from sight, tossed in a sudden, screaming tempest that - however impossibly - seemed to emanate from her chest, from the still bloodied scar the white wolf's sword had left. She tried to turn to Thad, the question in her eyes begging an answer for what in the world was happening - for what he had done? But her lover - and all else - was shredded from her sight by a howling verdant blast that faded to the blacks of the void, relieved only by the pale, almost glowing hues of impossible whites and blue.
A glacial blue. A glacial blue in black ice and black blood, a lake filled with the most bitter resentment and hatred, bled from a monster. Her mind tried to reel from the sight before her, the enormity of the wolf half-encased in ice. She did not need to be told what she was witnessed at this moment - far, far from it. But there had been nothing in all her studies, nothing in all her experience in the Veiled World, that could have prepared her for the malevolent reality of the Fenrir to her mortal eyes.
Unable to move, unable to speak or interact or effect a single thing, Veti felt suspended about the roof of the massive ice cave, an unwilling, unwitting witness to the events that unfolded below. Aislinn had seen this, all of this to the last, and now she shared that vision - but with a difference, with a sickening surety that this was no mere portent of what was to come. Every last thing to the last, was truly happening now. At this very moment.
And Veti was helpless to stop him, the white wolf. He was a mere, insignificant speck beside the Fenrir, striving with all his might to strike the golden chain that bound the monstrous demigod. She could see the muscles that fought beneath that alabaster fur, a final heave rewarded with a *CRACK* that filled the cavern, that reverberated almost painfully to her ephemeral bones. The white wolf was tossed across the frozen lake of black blood as the Fenrir finally lifted his impossible maw with a howl to shake the very heavens. Veti felt herself lifted and flung, far across a universe of bleak void, endless emptiness and indifferent stars...
The werewolf gasped, finally drawing a breath, a true breath in her true body as she tentatively lifted her clawed hand from Artie's head. Yes, her body was her own again, and her fingers flew to her newest scar, resting over the still-sticky blood for several seconds as she drew another deep breath. Incredulous, she turned to Thad, amber eyes wide. "It's already done," she said, her voice hushed but thick with a hurricane of emotion.
"The white wolf. He has released the Fenrir." She lifted her great crimson head as she looked over all those assembled. "The Fenrir," she said louder still, her voice carrying among the stones. "The white wolf has already found him, and set him free."
With a grim smile, the werewolf's amber gaze fell, as always - eternally - to her lover. She held her ebony clawed hand out to Thad, a silent invitation to the other half of her soul to join her while so many spoke. She felt so heavy - and yet somehow so hollow - with precious little to offer to this new gathering in Ardgroom, precious little to add to this conversation. All Veti had was her quiet fury, her solemn promise to a wolf she loved as her own brother, and these things howled within the confines of her head, silenced only by her lover's touch.
Siya offered to move them, if Jay-Jay or even Thad could somehow to determine the destination. Her dear friend seemed so contented, curled so easily into Atticus, as if her tiny, powerful body had been created to fit his demonic form.
And Veti listened to Atticus, letting his words roll over her. So, for all the sadistic joy the white wolf had taken murdering Aislinn, for nearly killing her, it had all only ever been a means to an end. Well, technically to the end. All this time, Aislinn had been custodian to such a powerful artifact, and Veti had not even realized something so vital until this very moment. She might have barked a bitter laugh if it wouldn't make her seem mad - and if she were sure she could stop herself once she started.
Veti listened to Henry, the import of his words running past her and through her. She had no arguments for the death of Fenrir at the dawn of Ragnarök, but its demise at the hands of Odin's son was only ever for coming of the true, prophesied Twilight of the Gods. What was happening at this moment was unprecedented, conformed to none of the Norse prophecies. Who could possibly know what rules were in play anymore?
She was so lost in her thoughts, following the threads of so many disparate conversations, Veti was almost surprised to realize Daisy was speaking to her directly. The Reaper had only just offered Artie to help with the tracking if need be, once they determined wherever the white wolf had fled. The space of several heartbeats passed as she listened to her precious friend, to the words Daisy offered that sank into her soul like a balm.
"Oh Daisy... " Veti bent her lupine face toward her Reaper friend, somehow managing a subtle, almost gentle smile despite the ivory fangs. Small tears began to well up in her amber eyes, as one clawed hand reached to gently cradle Daisy's cool cheek. "You took her over then? Aislinn... You took her over."
"Thank you Daisy. That could not have been an easy thing - to say the very least. But I am so grateful that it was you."
Veti could not even begin to speak to Aislinn's message for her, not trusting her voice wouldn't crack, or that she wouldn't dissolve in tears. And so she simply let her claw fall from Daisy's cheek to Artie's wide, ebony head, affectionately scratching behind the hellhound's velvety ears and jowls.
Later. Later, when she could truly grieve the only wolf sister she had ever known, even if it were for a few precious moments. Perhaps she would even return to Ardgroom in Aislinn's honor, to the place that had been her home once, and the ancestral home of the Teachglach Mac Tíre -
Veti's amber eyes widened, her entire body stiffening in shock. Her ebony hand still rested on Artie's head, but the standing stones, the deep Irish night and all her companions disappeared from sight, tossed in a sudden, screaming tempest that - however impossibly - seemed to emanate from her chest, from the still bloodied scar the white wolf's sword had left. She tried to turn to Thad, the question in her eyes begging an answer for what in the world was happening - for what he had done? But her lover - and all else - was shredded from her sight by a howling verdant blast that faded to the blacks of the void, relieved only by the pale, almost glowing hues of impossible whites and blue.
A glacial blue. A glacial blue in black ice and black blood, a lake filled with the most bitter resentment and hatred, bled from a monster. Her mind tried to reel from the sight before her, the enormity of the wolf half-encased in ice. She did not need to be told what she was witnessed at this moment - far, far from it. But there had been nothing in all her studies, nothing in all her experience in the Veiled World, that could have prepared her for the malevolent reality of the Fenrir to her mortal eyes.
Unable to move, unable to speak or interact or effect a single thing, Veti felt suspended about the roof of the massive ice cave, an unwilling, unwitting witness to the events that unfolded below. Aislinn had seen this, all of this to the last, and now she shared that vision - but with a difference, with a sickening surety that this was no mere portent of what was to come. Every last thing to the last, was truly happening now. At this very moment.
And Veti was helpless to stop him, the white wolf. He was a mere, insignificant speck beside the Fenrir, striving with all his might to strike the golden chain that bound the monstrous demigod. She could see the muscles that fought beneath that alabaster fur, a final heave rewarded with a *CRACK* that filled the cavern, that reverberated almost painfully to her ephemeral bones. The white wolf was tossed across the frozen lake of black blood as the Fenrir finally lifted his impossible maw with a howl to shake the very heavens. Veti felt herself lifted and flung, far across a universe of bleak void, endless emptiness and indifferent stars...
The werewolf gasped, finally drawing a breath, a true breath in her true body as she tentatively lifted her clawed hand from Artie's head. Yes, her body was her own again, and her fingers flew to her newest scar, resting over the still-sticky blood for several seconds as she drew another deep breath. Incredulous, she turned to Thad, amber eyes wide. "It's already done," she said, her voice hushed but thick with a hurricane of emotion.
"The white wolf. He has released the Fenrir." She lifted her great crimson head as she looked over all those assembled. "The Fenrir," she said louder still, her voice carrying among the stones. "The white wolf has already found him, and set him free."
The gentlewoman giggled warmly, her wide, sweet smile and laughing grey eyes teasing the tall, proud man at her side. He only gave the small, strangely-shaped purplish object in her fingers a most dubious stare, and one arched eyebrow.
"Robert! Go on now, quickly! Before the sugar melts on my fingers!" Antoinette's silken, thickly-accented voice flickered as brightly as any one of these lovely lanterns. "It is only a candied hibiscus blossom! I promise, you will like this!"
"Candied... flowers?"
"Oui, mon chèr! Oh here now, you big bébé!" Her lovely face only inches from his own, she peered up into Commander Murray's dark eyes, popping the sugary blossom past her full, generous lips. "Mmmm... " Her brows arched with obvious pleasure as she slowly licked the sweet syrup that remained from her finger and thumb, her eyes never leaving the officer's face.
"Here now Robert, you see how tasty this is?" she whispered. "Come now, be adventurous with me." She lifted another sugared blossom from the silver tray beside them, offering it between that same finger and thumb to his lips until the stoic officer finally relented.
"There you go, see?" she crooned, the tip of her thumb oh-so-gently lighting along his lower lip, as if to wipe away any remnant of crystalline sugar. "You should always trust your Antoinette... "
Commander Murray said nothing at all, only daring to kiss that same thumb tenderly before he offered her his arm, stepping away from the tables toward the dancing and music. He glanced down to the top of her ebony-crowned head, his gaze falling to the alternating fiery red and alabaster hothouse roses she had cleverly braided into her hair over her left ear. These blooms had been his gift to her earlier this day, but it was this gentlewoman who made a gift of herself to him this night.
This night, she chose a dress to honor him. Crimson silk fell from her bare shoulders, to the elegant sleeves draped to her forearms and the smooth, corseted bodice. This same brilliant silk was gathered at her waist, draped and parted elegantly in the front to reveal an alabaster damask underskirt, exquisitely sewn with gold threads in dancing, glimmering floral patterns. These same golden threads were cleverly embroidered in vines and florets about her neckline and the edges of her sleeves, as if she wore a resplendent argent garden.
Robert Murray smiled, almost wistfully, as his eyes traveled upward once more, to the caramel-skinned bosom she refused to whiten with powders of creams, and the bare shoulders so velvety soft, they begged kisses. A choker of pearls encircled the elegant curve of her neck, a single tear-drop faceted ruby nestled comfortably in the hollow of her throat. The ruby’s facets shimmered, winking in the torchlight, a glistening contrast to the long midnight black tendrils of curls that cascaded down her back.
And all he could have wished for in this moment, was to twine just one of those silken strands in his fingers.
"Miss Greene, shall we?" Though of course, Commander Murray did not truly have to ask her for this dance - he simply wished to see the delight on her face, in the depths of those incomparable silver eyes as she looked up to him, to the sound of his voice.
The gentlewoman's eyes never once left his face as they moved, her uncanny grace wrapping the pair in the illusion of floating over this manicured lawn, dancing in the clouds above as they flitted over the moon..
Until the very moment that, against all probability - possibility even - Thomas. Damned. Lightfoot, had come to pluck him out of the sky, right here in his very home.
Once he collected his wits about him, and wiped the startled look from his visage, the British officer still fought to bite back the first words that might have tripped off his tongue, words very like, ‘Who the hell let you in here, Lightfoot?’
His dark eyes glanced toward Antoinette, the dusky rose at his side. Though it cost him near every ounce of hard won discipline he had ever mustered, a thin, tight smile stretched across his lips, the dim match to Thomas' bright grin. "Of course Thomas, though Miss Greene is her own woman, with quite the mind of her own. Introductions first perhaps, and then she will have her say. Miss Antoinette Greene, this is Thomas Lightfoot. Captain Lightfoot... " he added, emphasis on the title made at some obvious cost from within. "Thomas, Miss Greene." The small smile twisted up to something almost true as the Commander turned to the gentlewoman at his side.
It was all the rogue could do, to keep the pleasant-but-interested appearance of Mademoiselle Antoinette Greene pasted to her face at the sight of Thomas. Here. Of all places, right here, right now. How in all the world had he ever found her - oh. Oh wait just a moment...
Of course. Jax. So it seemed the helmsman had dared to accept that invitation, to come this night with his captain in tow, though the rogue had yet to be graced by the sight of that ever-grinning face.
Oh, such a treat.
But even so, what in this world was Thomas up to? He knew very well she did whatever she would, whatever she thought best; that every step she took when the Skate docked was only ever for the crew. For him. Her lovely man never once troubled her footsteps to find her, certainly not before she had something worth the offering...
Not, of course, that at this very moment, he was truly "troubling.” Oh no, not to her eyes in the least. Ah her lovely man, her dear, crafty Silverfish - and how resplendent in silver and ebony he was this night. She could not remember a time when he had ever cut so dashing a figure - to say he 'cleaned up well' was a gross understatement. And, unless she were terribly mistaken (which, of course, she most certainly was not)? Oh yes, every eligible lady in the gathering was casting the gamut of furtive to bold glances in his direction - not that she blamed them.
And all the rogue could imagine in this moment, the sweet little fantasy that cavorted through her thoughts? What must it be like to lay her cheek against his, cleanshaven for perhaps the first time since she laid eyes on that handsome face..
"Capitaine Lightfoot," Antoinette said with that musical, perfectly Parisian accent, nodding her head in elegant acknowledgement. "Are you a friend of my Robert?" she asked, all sweet innocence and wide, generous smiles. "It seems you know one another, non?" With the last word, her face tilted up toward the Commander, whose visage turned from glower to glowing in an instant.
**********
Jax
Jax kept thinking of turning around and running toward that beautiful night pond and those flowers. That’s where he should be. Not here. Not dressed in someone elses clothes at someone else's party pretending to be someone else. He should just turn around. He had his fun. The Captain was here and his game with Ms Greene,or whoever, someone else, played out.
It wasn’t the clothes that made him want to leave before he even got there. To his surprise they were actually amazingly comfortable. The shirt, a light sky blue was softer than anything he had ever felt against his chest, well besides the body of a soft silk female, but anything other than that. And it was loose enough to slide over his stomach and arms with a tease of richness he could enjoy. He didn’t really want to put the dark deep blue jacket over the shirt but if he was playing the game, he best put on all the parts. Well, most of the parts. He wouldn’t say, but he left the vest folded up on his cabin bunk. Why do they need so many layers on a hot summer night? Jax didn’t. Besides he thought the shirt and jacket looked just fine. He left the under closes beside the vest as well. No sense having this nice material and not letting it touch him. So of course he wouldn't tell the Captain that. His secret.
He tucked the fine leather pants into the tops of the sueded amazing boots. Oh he liked them too. He left his cabin feeling dashing. With the ties given he pulled back his hair and swept his face clean. He was fine. So why did he stand outside this expansive display of wealth and want to turn away. Because you can’t shine shit, Jax chuckled. He liked how his thoughts did not say which was the dung of the earth, this place or him?
And just then the sound of the First Mate caught his attention. He pushed his hands behind him holding the flowers he collected. Her voice so much sweeter than her words, as so often the case with her. He turned to answer, to tell her he had to ride with the Captain because he owned him and needed last minute advice as to where this part went and how does he keep his hair in this soft string?
But the words didn’t come. He looked at her stunned. Now he had his reason not to run. She was…...Jax smiled and then laughed. “You are..” He stopped and slowly offered his gift of two flowers, night blooms of course. “I wasn’t sure why I took you there. But now I know.” He held the flowers out to her. “The thing about Night Blooms is they stay closed all day, tight balls, leaves hiding the bright colors and the frequency. Most never see them.” He smiled to her.
“But like things of beauty once and awhile they just have to open and release what is so tight inside.” Jax held the flowers out to her.
“You are the Night Bloom tonight, M’Lady. You are stunning beyond imagination. No one will miss the short time you bloom.”
He stepped back allowing himself to enjoy the look of her. He then offered his arm to her. “I have been thinking of the spy stuff.” He whispered enjoying that he had a reason to lean close to her. “We need a system. Like a code in there. If you get into a conversation or dance you don't like tug your right ear and I will obnoxiously rescue you. If you get a really juicy piece of information, slick out the tip of your tongue. If you need to quickly run just place your right hand on your right hip.”
Jax chuckled, “And if you are going to start hitting anyone, slugging away for some reason quickly slide your finger up your nose…..or wait maybe just along side?” He smiled at her hoping to get one back in return. Even if she did not he knew where his eyes would be tonight.
"Robert! Go on now, quickly! Before the sugar melts on my fingers!" Antoinette's silken, thickly-accented voice flickered as brightly as any one of these lovely lanterns. "It is only a candied hibiscus blossom! I promise, you will like this!"
"Candied... flowers?"
"Oui, mon chèr! Oh here now, you big bébé!" Her lovely face only inches from his own, she peered up into Commander Murray's dark eyes, popping the sugary blossom past her full, generous lips. "Mmmm... " Her brows arched with obvious pleasure as she slowly licked the sweet syrup that remained from her finger and thumb, her eyes never leaving the officer's face.
"Here now Robert, you see how tasty this is?" she whispered. "Come now, be adventurous with me." She lifted another sugared blossom from the silver tray beside them, offering it between that same finger and thumb to his lips until the stoic officer finally relented.
"There you go, see?" she crooned, the tip of her thumb oh-so-gently lighting along his lower lip, as if to wipe away any remnant of crystalline sugar. "You should always trust your Antoinette... "
Commander Murray said nothing at all, only daring to kiss that same thumb tenderly before he offered her his arm, stepping away from the tables toward the dancing and music. He glanced down to the top of her ebony-crowned head, his gaze falling to the alternating fiery red and alabaster hothouse roses she had cleverly braided into her hair over her left ear. These blooms had been his gift to her earlier this day, but it was this gentlewoman who made a gift of herself to him this night.
This night, she chose a dress to honor him. Crimson silk fell from her bare shoulders, to the elegant sleeves draped to her forearms and the smooth, corseted bodice. This same brilliant silk was gathered at her waist, draped and parted elegantly in the front to reveal an alabaster damask underskirt, exquisitely sewn with gold threads in dancing, glimmering floral patterns. These same golden threads were cleverly embroidered in vines and florets about her neckline and the edges of her sleeves, as if she wore a resplendent argent garden.
Robert Murray smiled, almost wistfully, as his eyes traveled upward once more, to the caramel-skinned bosom she refused to whiten with powders of creams, and the bare shoulders so velvety soft, they begged kisses. A choker of pearls encircled the elegant curve of her neck, a single tear-drop faceted ruby nestled comfortably in the hollow of her throat. The ruby’s facets shimmered, winking in the torchlight, a glistening contrast to the long midnight black tendrils of curls that cascaded down her back.
And all he could have wished for in this moment, was to twine just one of those silken strands in his fingers.
"Miss Greene, shall we?" Though of course, Commander Murray did not truly have to ask her for this dance - he simply wished to see the delight on her face, in the depths of those incomparable silver eyes as she looked up to him, to the sound of his voice.
The gentlewoman's eyes never once left his face as they moved, her uncanny grace wrapping the pair in the illusion of floating over this manicured lawn, dancing in the clouds above as they flitted over the moon..
Until the very moment that, against all probability - possibility even - Thomas. Damned. Lightfoot, had come to pluck him out of the sky, right here in his very home.
Once he collected his wits about him, and wiped the startled look from his visage, the British officer still fought to bite back the first words that might have tripped off his tongue, words very like, ‘Who the hell let you in here, Lightfoot?’
His dark eyes glanced toward Antoinette, the dusky rose at his side. Though it cost him near every ounce of hard won discipline he had ever mustered, a thin, tight smile stretched across his lips, the dim match to Thomas' bright grin. "Of course Thomas, though Miss Greene is her own woman, with quite the mind of her own. Introductions first perhaps, and then she will have her say. Miss Antoinette Greene, this is Thomas Lightfoot. Captain Lightfoot... " he added, emphasis on the title made at some obvious cost from within. "Thomas, Miss Greene." The small smile twisted up to something almost true as the Commander turned to the gentlewoman at his side.
It was all the rogue could do, to keep the pleasant-but-interested appearance of Mademoiselle Antoinette Greene pasted to her face at the sight of Thomas. Here. Of all places, right here, right now. How in all the world had he ever found her - oh. Oh wait just a moment...
Of course. Jax. So it seemed the helmsman had dared to accept that invitation, to come this night with his captain in tow, though the rogue had yet to be graced by the sight of that ever-grinning face.
Oh, such a treat.
But even so, what in this world was Thomas up to? He knew very well she did whatever she would, whatever she thought best; that every step she took when the Skate docked was only ever for the crew. For him. Her lovely man never once troubled her footsteps to find her, certainly not before she had something worth the offering...
Not, of course, that at this very moment, he was truly "troubling.” Oh no, not to her eyes in the least. Ah her lovely man, her dear, crafty Silverfish - and how resplendent in silver and ebony he was this night. She could not remember a time when he had ever cut so dashing a figure - to say he 'cleaned up well' was a gross understatement. And, unless she were terribly mistaken (which, of course, she most certainly was not)? Oh yes, every eligible lady in the gathering was casting the gamut of furtive to bold glances in his direction - not that she blamed them.
And all the rogue could imagine in this moment, the sweet little fantasy that cavorted through her thoughts? What must it be like to lay her cheek against his, cleanshaven for perhaps the first time since she laid eyes on that handsome face..
"Capitaine Lightfoot," Antoinette said with that musical, perfectly Parisian accent, nodding her head in elegant acknowledgement. "Are you a friend of my Robert?" she asked, all sweet innocence and wide, generous smiles. "It seems you know one another, non?" With the last word, her face tilted up toward the Commander, whose visage turned from glower to glowing in an instant.
Jax
Jax kept thinking of turning around and running toward that beautiful night pond and those flowers. That’s where he should be. Not here. Not dressed in someone elses clothes at someone else's party pretending to be someone else. He should just turn around. He had his fun. The Captain was here and his game with Ms Greene,or whoever, someone else, played out.
It wasn’t the clothes that made him want to leave before he even got there. To his surprise they were actually amazingly comfortable. The shirt, a light sky blue was softer than anything he had ever felt against his chest, well besides the body of a soft silk female, but anything other than that. And it was loose enough to slide over his stomach and arms with a tease of richness he could enjoy. He didn’t really want to put the dark deep blue jacket over the shirt but if he was playing the game, he best put on all the parts. Well, most of the parts. He wouldn’t say, but he left the vest folded up on his cabin bunk. Why do they need so many layers on a hot summer night? Jax didn’t. Besides he thought the shirt and jacket looked just fine. He left the under closes beside the vest as well. No sense having this nice material and not letting it touch him. So of course he wouldn't tell the Captain that. His secret.
He tucked the fine leather pants into the tops of the sueded amazing boots. Oh he liked them too. He left his cabin feeling dashing. With the ties given he pulled back his hair and swept his face clean. He was fine. So why did he stand outside this expansive display of wealth and want to turn away. Because you can’t shine shit, Jax chuckled. He liked how his thoughts did not say which was the dung of the earth, this place or him?
And just then the sound of the First Mate caught his attention. He pushed his hands behind him holding the flowers he collected. Her voice so much sweeter than her words, as so often the case with her. He turned to answer, to tell her he had to ride with the Captain because he owned him and needed last minute advice as to where this part went and how does he keep his hair in this soft string?
But the words didn’t come. He looked at her stunned. Now he had his reason not to run. She was…...Jax smiled and then laughed. “You are..” He stopped and slowly offered his gift of two flowers, night blooms of course. “I wasn’t sure why I took you there. But now I know.” He held the flowers out to her. “The thing about Night Blooms is they stay closed all day, tight balls, leaves hiding the bright colors and the frequency. Most never see them.” He smiled to her.
“But like things of beauty once and awhile they just have to open and release what is so tight inside.” Jax held the flowers out to her.
“You are the Night Bloom tonight, M’Lady. You are stunning beyond imagination. No one will miss the short time you bloom.”
He stepped back allowing himself to enjoy the look of her. He then offered his arm to her. “I have been thinking of the spy stuff.” He whispered enjoying that he had a reason to lean close to her. “We need a system. Like a code in there. If you get into a conversation or dance you don't like tug your right ear and I will obnoxiously rescue you. If you get a really juicy piece of information, slick out the tip of your tongue. If you need to quickly run just place your right hand on your right hip.”
Jax chuckled, “And if you are going to start hitting anyone, slugging away for some reason quickly slide your finger up your nose…..or wait maybe just along side?” He smiled at her hoping to get one back in return. Even if she did not he knew where his eyes would be tonight.
I'm planning to post, a little later today :)
And it's rainy here too, kinda *blech* - but I suppose it actually makes for lovely napping weather, doesn't it? A double-edged sword, that ;)
And it's rainy here too, kinda *blech* - but I suppose it actually makes for lovely napping weather, doesn't it? A double-edged sword, that ;)
Just lovely, after reading your post Lil - and I imagine Hellis is too, after getting his old computer back-to-working!
Love that meme, LP
And all righty Dot :)
Love that meme, LP
And all righty Dot :)
Very nice post, Idle and RR - I was wondering about this thread. So things have started - are we all simply to do as we will individually?
O.o... OK so, if my sig/avatar set weren't so unspeakably bad ass, I would totally be cowering in a corner at your fearsome-ness, Lillian. Red. Fury red. Blood red. Weeping, open wound red. I am SO feeling it, I swear!
(doesn't make you any less cute though. *boop*
)
(doesn't make you any less cute though. *boop*
)Lillian Thorne said
I tool love the juxtaposition of our sets, your set's conveyance of the dangers of such a rigid grip on a false sense of sanity and control juxtaposes nicely to mine's enlightened sense of freedom and openness.
*grins* Awwww... you're so cute!
*boops your adorable little nose*Looking forward to your post (as always) when you can ;)
Hello Lil! *waves* And everyone last one of you all too, of course. I'm probably going to wait for just a few more posts before I put my own up, but it is certainly in the works.
Oh, and Lillian? I still adore the juxtaposition of our sig/avatar sets - makes me grin to no end.
Oh, and Lillian? I still adore the juxtaposition of our sig/avatar sets - makes me grin to no end.
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