Ignis Scientia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chef_chocobro) wrote2023-12-29 04:18 am
chef_chocobro) wrote2023-12-29 04:18 am
Somewhere Very Fancy; Off-Island, Friday Evening [12/29].
In his unending quest to reveal to Liliana that patience was a gift that would reap many rewards, part of his Christmas gift to her could not be fully enjoyed until this very evening. It had involved a gown, as well as tickets to the opera, and the promise of dancing the night away afterwards. His own suit had threatened to cause them to miss the performance entirely, but thankfully, that particular crisis was averted, the show did, in fact, go on, and Liliana had faithfully whispered to his the details of the more impressive visual elements....as well as whispered many other things that had absolutely nothing to do with the show itself, and much more to do with the way her fingers tantalizingly brushed against his wrist. It was enough to make him wish he'd skipped the propriety of proper opera gloves if not for the fact that he was quite sure the gloves themselves were the inspiration for those trailing touches.
And lovely as the opera had been, Ignis was eager to move on, and they finally arrived there at the dance hall, which he had been assured was quite astonishing to behold. The swells of lively music with sweeping cadences and the din of conversation layered over it was promising, but his attention was entirely focused toward the woman on his arm to gauge its suitablity.
[[ and for said shamelessly modded woman, and NFB for disance, natch~ ]]
And lovely as the opera had been, Ignis was eager to move on, and they finally arrived there at the dance hall, which he had been assured was quite astonishing to behold. The swells of lively music with sweeping cadences and the din of conversation layered over it was promising, but his attention was entirely focused toward the woman on his arm to gauge its suitablity.
[[ and for said shamelessly modded woman, and NFB for disance, natch~ ]]
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"Why, it's barely even worth thinking about," he said, instead, still low and rumbled, as he reminded himself that they weren't the only people in the room, and so a light leaning into that hand would have to suffice for now.
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They danced in silence for a bit, content to just feel and be and move in tandem. Eventually, however, Liliana chuckled and said, "Oh, I nearly forgot. I have a present for you."
She ignored Ignis' protests, spinning herself under his arm and out while her free hand reached to her hip, the gentle chiming of the Chain Veil a reminder of its omnipresence, and tucked into one of the cunningly hidden pockets of her gown. And then she spun back in again, and slid her 'gift' into his hand.
It was a piece of laminated cardboard, only an inch or so on a side, folded to create a small ridge at the top and bottom of the square. There were small holes punctured through the ridges, top and bottom both, as if something very small and thin were meant to pass through them.
And indeed something was, as in the furthest set of holes on the square was a metal sliver, the kind of thing that would chime if laid down carefully on a countertop.
Assuming he didn't know from just that, pulling the item free would tell him what it was immediately.
A golden hairpin, like the many that held Liliana's hair up in an elegant chignon at the top of her head.
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And though his hand was loathe to do anything but return to her upon her return back into his arms again, his curiosity easily got the better of him. Rubbing his thumb over the ridge of the small sliver of metal, he then rolled it over in his hand a little, the gloves making it slightly more difficult for him to figure it pit, but it was very clear, when he did, by the smile that surfaced on his face.
"Ah," he said, "a gift, is it?" Tucking it against his palm, he extended a finger to lightly brush against her hair. "Or just a promise of more to come?"
Had that been his first time, cooking in her kitchen? Hard to believe there'd been so many more meals crafted there since that moment, and he could still hear that gentle,steady clinking, still recall the almost maddening curiosity to figure out what it had been and to what purpose, and not being in the slightest bit disappointed in the answer...
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Which it so very clearly had.
"Why not both?" she asked with a soft chuckle, leaning against him to brush her lips over his in the barest hint of a kiss. "The promise of more throughout the night, and the gift of not expecting you to walk around with a truly ridiculous amount of loose hairpins in your pocket."
And since their hands were so close, she was going to run her fingers along his inner wrist again. "Do you think it will lessen the effect? Knowing what is going to happen once you kiss me for real tonight...?"
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"Lessen?" A cool eyebrow lifted, and a hand so adept at adjusting the handle of a blade with a mere flick of a wrist now did so in a way to capture that hand at his wrist, and he leaned in to wrap his arm around her for enough support to dip her with the music, grinning as he spun the back to standing and even closer, somehow, than before. "On the contrary. If anything, all it will accomplish is making me find myself quite ...well, optimistic isn't quite the right word, but perhaps idealistic in thinking we'd be on our feet until the sun came up."
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He was grinning. Not just faintly smiling, or even actually smiling, but a full on grin. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest - no doubt a coincidence of timing, what with the exertion of dancing and all - and she was glad her hands were occupied, so she couldn't place them over his lips as if to capture it for herself, and draw his attention to it.
But it did draw an answering grin from her own lips, and would have even if she hadn't already been so inclined. But who wouldn't have been, with an answer like that?
"There are other ways to be on our feet that long," she said, ghosting a kiss over his cheek this time. ""You know, on the surface, it sounds like a fun game to play - your vaunted patience against my strongest attempts to seduce you. But I have a feeling that no matter who wins, I'll still end up terribly frustrated before it's over. Even if I do love making you want."
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A little frustrated, perhaps.
A dangerous line to traipse, perhaps, but if he approached it with even half as much assurance and grace as he approached the dance floor in this moment...
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And he was right, she did like to hear it, just like she enjoyed hearing someone call her beautiful or deliver her some other compliment. She might already have known it was true, but it was always delightful to be acknowledged.
"I don't know that I have the same restraint, my darling," she confessed with a wicked grin, and began telling him a story. "This is just one way I've imagined seducing you..." She kept up her narration as they danced as easily as she'd kept up her description of the hall during their entrance. Her rich voice murmured softly in his ear, creating a very detailed account, eloquent and explicit, but without ever straying into the vulgar or uncouth. She adhered directly to the social contract of this place, and not a single objectionable word or phrase fell from her lips, even as she crafted a fantasy around them both.
The rhythm of the dance only helped, of course. Sometimes they were pressed so tightly together, she barely even needed to breathe out the words, hands lightly skimming over his back or chest before returning to position. Other times they moved apart- a spin, a dip, an extension of their arms before he tugged her back in, and she used those moments of silence to build upon the drama, just as he had done.
And every so often, one of her stories would be punctuated by a tiny golden pin being slid into the holder and then tucked back into his pocket.