[ The atmosphere, the food, the finery, the dancing—Clair is enchanted with it all. She may have gone a little too hard on her first big gala in so long, though—she was just so excited to make new friends, mingle with old ones, and dance her heart out that she's worn herself out a little bit. All she needs is a little break, a chance to catch her breath...
She turns to look up at Percival, a smile lighting up her face. ]
Yes, very much so. I must thank you, again, for escorting me. Truly, you have my gratitude.
[ That's as big of an implication as it's gonna get with regards to him being glad that they've chosen to come to the gala together. He leans against the balcony and lingers there for a moment. ]
Is this anything like the type of parties you were accustomed to, back home? For me, it's almost as if I could look around the room and find old, familiar faces.
[ As depressing as that might sound, he isn't entirely melancholic. It's bittersweet, in a way. ]
[ It's enough implication to hit true—the words unfurl in her chest with a warm fuzziness. It makes her smile soften a little around the edges as she moves to stand next to him, her hands resting on the balcony railing. The metal is cold to the touch, and that combined with the chill in the air makes her break out in goosebumps all over her bare shoulders and down her arms. It's... bracing, but she doesn't really mind.
Maybe it's because of the company. ]
I could say the very same, I wager. [ That bittersweetness in his voice must be contagious, though hers is tempered with some wistfulness, for the old days. ] These types of soirees were so common whence I came—especially so under our former king. I never relished them then as much as I did after the war began—when they became so rare.
[ She shrugs her shoulders as if to say isn't that just the way? One never truly appreciates the things one has until they're gone. ]
[ Percival watches her for a moment. Clair seems much more calm than she had in the middle of the busy party just a few minutes before, and while it was nice to see her full of life and flourishing, he could relate to her the most when they spoke one-on-one like this. He also notes the small bumps rising on her arms. ]
Are you cold? Why did you not bring a cloak, foolish girl?
[ He's fussing, because of course he is, but he's smiling a little, too, unclasping the cloak around his neck and draping it over her shoulder as she continues speaking. ]
Your world was in a time of war, then, when The Storm hit? That is unfortunate, to have left one war behind for the dawn of another.
[ She bristles a little when he says that—foolish girl—but with the small smile on his face and the way he stands close to drape the cloak over her shoulders... she finds that she can't really hang onto her ire for very long.
Still, she shoots him a petulant look. ]
How was I to predict this turn of events? [ She left it at the coat check, god!!!
Anyway, his cloak is long enough on her that the ends drag on the ground, so she gathers up the sides and wraps it around her, drawing in its warmth. The fabric is still warm with his body heat, and she can't help but notice that it smells... nice. Like cologne and the faint scent of wood-smoke and ash, reminding her of so many nights spent gathered near a campfire as the Deliverance fought their way to the very top of the world. ]
Oh, no... rather, we had finally achieved peace—no sooner than The Storm swept it all away. [ Her voice grows softer—maybe even a little melancholy. In her darkest moments, she has to wonder if everything they fought for was worth their sacrifices, if this was what became of it. Was it all just... futile? ] Though the sentiment is the same. I cannot say that I delight in seeing this world go the way of mine.
A cold winter night in December is hardly a turn of events, Lady Clair.
[ For all of his scolding, Percival doesn't actually sound annoyed. One of the perks of being the lord of flames was not being terribly affected by the cold night air. Even if he were, he would have endured it for the sake of her comfort.
He listens carefully as she continues talking about the situation in her world, knowing all too well just how infuriating it must be for the world she knew to be no more, only to come to a place that seemed ultimately headed towards a path of strife. ]
We will do everything in our power to ensure people continue to enjoy peace, will we not? [ This is his attempt to bring back that optimistic spirit of hers. ]
[ It works—her optimistic spirit can't be held down for long anyway. ]
Yes, of course.
[ She turns towards him and smiles, though it's a little slow to reach her eyes. Whatever happens, this world is now her home—maybe not the home that she knew and loved all her life, but the only home she has left. She'll fight for it, just like she did for Valentia.
She shakes her head then, as if to shake away the mood that gripped her, her smile a little sheepish. ]
But what am I saying? This is hardly a topic for such a wonderful night as this.
[ She looks away, over the balcony—but something in the sky suddenly catches her eye, and her face lights up in wonder. ]
Oh, look! The sky! [ Light is beginning to spill from Thesa station, bathing the stars in light. ]
[ It really is dazzling. For a moment, she's quiet, taking the time to really drink in the sight of so much light as it envelopes the station and then dances across the night sky. She's never seen anything like it before—then again, there are so many experiences she's had here that she never even could have imagined back home.
The music is soft and slow, as if lulling her into a dream. She lets that wash over her too, along with everything else—the crisp night air, Percival at her side, the warmth of his cloak wrapped around her. ]
Even so... I wish to remember this night well. I know now to relish these moments when I am able.
[ After all, they could end in an instant. And if they did, surely she would regret... not leaning her head against his shoulder, as she does now, while they watch the stars shine. ]
[ Clair seemed willing to step back in time to those moments in her home world, however bittersweet they may be, and Percival finds himself thinking that she's strong not only for indulging his questions, but for having the fortitude to continue looking forward, as well. Percival feels a warmth in his chest when he looks to her, not minding terribly when she leans her head against his shoulder. Clair always works to make herself come off as strong and optimistic-- a bright light to anyone around her. But right now, she seems more relaxed. ]
Then I should work to make the night extra memorable for you, shouldn't I? [ And right now seems as good a time as any. ]
We've yet to share a dance since arriving to the gala. I would be a terrible date if I allowed everyone to dance with you except for myself. [ He doesn't pull away from her, but offers her his hand from the side. ]
[ She blinks at his proffered hand, then lifts her head to turn and look up at him. This may be the first time she's ever seen such a gentle look on his face, stripped of the usual furrow of his brow or arrogant slant of his mouth—she likes it. She likes the glimpse into the heart of him, where all his kindness and care lies.
Her smile unfolds like a flower to the morning sun, soft and warm, reflecting in her eyes and resounding in her chest. ]
Yes, I would like that.
[ She takes his hand and sweeps into an elegant curtsy, his cloak only a slight hindrance. She laughs a little when it slips from her shoulder, but she adjusts it quickly before settling into his hold, one hand in his while the other rests on his shoulder. ]
[ That is perhaps the most frustrating thing about Percival: he can be charming when he wants to be. When someone is deemed worthy. I hate writing this.
He beams proudly when she agrees and returns the smile, taking her hand in his and resting the other on the small of her waist. He is comfortable enough that he doesn't think twice about holding Clair close, guiding their way with practiced ease.
He's about to crack a joke, but decides not to ruin the mood for now. It's nice, to enjoy this with her, under the brightly lit sky. ]
[ She falls into step with him easily, almost comfortably—he's obviously an adept dancer, so it feels effortless to follow his lead as they glide around the balcony. She feels almost like she's floating, but that could just be her heart—something about the blazing stars, the gentle hum of music, and the warmth of his hands make her feel... light. Untethered. Happy.
Content, at least enough to let the silence linger while she drinks in the moment. She shifts a little closer to him as they dance, as if drawn in by his warmth, her fingers curling around his neck. ]
[ Even though there are many others inside, and the hum of people can be easily heard outside, this particular balcony is relatively secluded. It's easy to forget that they're not the only two people here, and it's a thought that Percival doesn't mind entertaining for a few moments.
Eventually, his strides become longer, their movement around the balcony more pronounced and sweeping. He breaks apart only for a moment to ease her into a twirl, and unfortunately, when he catches Clair, he doesn't realize that they've been caught under a sprig of mistletoe. ]
[ Her smile lights up as he guides her into a twirl, an easy laugh escaping her as her feet sail across the floor. When she whirls back into the circle of his arms, and then moves to step aside, however—
That's when she realizes that she's... stuck, like her legs are made of lead. In that moment, her eyes widen in surprise—but this isn't the first time that she's been caught in the mistletoe's trap, and so she glances up, not quite as surprised by what she sees. ]
[ All good things must come to an end, apparently. To lead to other Things, of course. Percival's brow furrows in confusion when she stops in her tracks, especially when she'd been so easy and pleasant to dance with up until now, until he realizes that he cannot keep guiding their movements, either. ]
What manner of—
[ He looks up to where she's silently gesturing, his easy smile replaced by an embarrassed flush. ]
Of course. Why should we have ever considered ourselves safe from such trickery?! [ His mood is considerably less happy now, though it's not her fault, he's just...
this isn't his first time either, and he's tired of being embarrassed. Pepecry. ]
She blushes too, if only because he's blushing—not that she's accustomed to this kind of behavior now, but rather... there's an element of resignation in the drop of her shoulders, along with the indignation writ plain on her face. ]
Even now—how tiresome!
[ She was really enjoying their dance too... the mood was light and carefree... and now it's been Tainted. Her grip in his tightens reflexively before she looks up to meet his gaze. ]
[ It's difficult not to feel embarrassed, even if this wouldn't be the first time that they will have shared a kiss, and at least this time is under much more innocent circumstances. With her, at least, he is more comfortable, such that he doesn't feel dread or anything of the sort.
He can even rib at her, a bit. His cheeks still tinged pink, he purses his lips and eyes her critically. ]
Hm. Is kissing me so distasteful that it needs to be over with quickly, Lady Clair?
[ There's even a small grin on his face, and if that isn't enough indication that he's not being serious, he lightly runs his thumb along the back of her palm. ]
[ That—was not the reaction she was expecting. She might've even stepped away from him if she had any power over her limbs—as it is, her eyes go wide again, and she can feel her face flush even more deeply. ]
No! Certainly not! [ Wait, no. What is she saying?! She's just getting more flustered. ] That is, it was not my intention to imply—that!
[ It's right about... now... when she finally realizes that he's teasing her, that swipe of his thumb across the back of her hand sending a jolt of warm electricity running down her arm, straight to her chest. Oh. She makes a moue of indignation and looks away, trying to muster up of the shreds of her dignity. ]
[ To be fair, he does feel pretty bad when she loses her composure and falls deeper into a flustered state. He definitely knows what that's like. Even if he can't help but feel even more endeared by her indignation. Perhaps it's the effects of the mistletoe, or something more natural that comes from having grown comfortable in her easy presence. ]
You dare accuse me of such a thing? [ It's not exactly easy for him to stop the embarrassment from growing, either, but the smile on his face grows softer.
He pulls on her hand a bit, silently asking her to look at him again. Normally, he likely wouldn't be so forward, but the magic surrounding them makes it more difficult for him to pay any attention to reservation. ]
I jest. [ Yea, he's a shit. ]
I am aware that we have no choice but to continue, but... how can I make this the least... uncomfortable for you?
[ The soft edges of his smile go a long way towards soothing her ire until it fades away—she still keeps up the appearance of it, though, a small pout on her face as she follows the pull of his hand and looks up again. ]
You enjoyed that far too much.
[ What a shit, but there's a twinge of fondness there. Instinctively, her gaze drifts to his mouth, before she catches herself and pulls it back up to his eyes. Maybe it's the mistletoe, but she feels almost... spellbound, her nerves humming in anticipation. ]
There is no need—I am ready. [ Which says—probably a lot more than she'd intended. Here, she angles her head upwards, a coy shine to her eyes. Almost challenging. ]
[ This sort of banter comes surprisingly easy now, though it certainly helps that the magic has instilled in him some sort of... boldness. Clair looks breathtakingly beautiful tonight, and it's not like Percival didn't notice (he may try to be a disciplined person but he's not blind), but right now, he finds himself oddly transfixed on catching her eye again.
He feels more than a bit of pride at seeing her smile return, little by little. ]
Of course I am ready. But what do you see me as, some sort of battle to be conquered? [ He chides her, but with enough self-awareness to know that this is exactly the same sort of shit he'd say. His smile is wide and warm now, and he cups her cheek in his palm, leaning down to press their lips together softly. ]
[ The touch of his lips swallows her reply—why, has she not already conquered him?—and takes her breath away with it, so that she nearly melts against him. The kiss is gentle and measured, but it draws her in utterly and doesn't let go—no, it's the gentleness that captures her heart, the puzzle-perfect way his hand fits over the curve of her cheek, the nearness of his body and the heat that radiates from it.
She finds herself shifting closer, seeking more, each movement a little boat that sails for his shores: her hands clutching the front of his jacket, holding him close; the tilt of her head towards the warmth of his palm; the slant of her mouth against his, so that she can kiss him more firmly. ]
[ There's something about the night, about her company, that makes it easier for Percival to relax and actually enjoy the closeness they're sharing, however brought upon by mistletoe as it may be. He knows that she is not delicate, that there is power in that small body of hers, but right now, the embrace he gives her is undeniably protective and warm.
Gradually, and only after the beating of his heart begins to still again, he pulls away. The desire to pull away completely and disassociate the situation, an inevitable feeling that has come each and every time the mistletoe affected him before, simply isn't there.
He laughs lowly, more than a little awkward and sheepish. ]
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She turns to look up at Percival, a smile lighting up her face. ]
Yes, very much so. I must thank you, again, for escorting me. Truly, you have my gratitude.
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[ That's as big of an implication as it's gonna get with regards to him being glad that they've chosen to come to the gala together. He leans against the balcony and lingers there for a moment. ]
Is this anything like the type of parties you were accustomed to, back home? For me, it's almost as if I could look around the room and find old, familiar faces.
[ As depressing as that might sound, he isn't entirely melancholic. It's bittersweet, in a way. ]
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Maybe it's because of the company. ]
I could say the very same, I wager. [ That bittersweetness in his voice must be contagious, though hers is tempered with some wistfulness, for the old days. ] These types of soirees were so common whence I came—especially so under our former king. I never relished them then as much as I did after the war began—when they became so rare.
[ She shrugs her shoulders as if to say isn't that just the way? One never truly appreciates the things one has until they're gone. ]
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Are you cold? Why did you not bring a cloak, foolish girl?
[ He's fussing, because of course he is, but he's smiling a little, too, unclasping the cloak around his neck and draping it over her shoulder as she continues speaking. ]
Your world was in a time of war, then, when The Storm hit? That is unfortunate, to have left one war behind for the dawn of another.
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Still, she shoots him a petulant look. ]
How was I to predict this turn of events? [ She left it at the coat check, god!!!
Anyway, his cloak is long enough on her that the ends drag on the ground, so she gathers up the sides and wraps it around her, drawing in its warmth. The fabric is still warm with his body heat, and she can't help but notice that it smells... nice. Like cologne and the faint scent of wood-smoke and ash, reminding her of so many nights spent gathered near a campfire as the Deliverance fought their way to the very top of the world. ]
Oh, no... rather, we had finally achieved peace—no sooner than The Storm swept it all away. [ Her voice grows softer—maybe even a little melancholy. In her darkest moments, she has to wonder if everything they fought for was worth their sacrifices, if this was what became of it. Was it all just... futile? ] Though the sentiment is the same. I cannot say that I delight in seeing this world go the way of mine.
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[ For all of his scolding, Percival doesn't actually sound annoyed. One of the perks of being the lord of flames was not being terribly affected by the cold night air. Even if he were, he would have endured it for the sake of her comfort.
He listens carefully as she continues talking about the situation in her world, knowing all too well just how infuriating it must be for the world she knew to be no more, only to come to a place that seemed ultimately headed towards a path of strife. ]
We will do everything in our power to ensure people continue to enjoy peace, will we not? [ This is his attempt to bring back that optimistic spirit of hers. ]
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Yes, of course.
[ She turns towards him and smiles, though it's a little slow to reach her eyes. Whatever happens, this world is now her home—maybe not the home that she knew and loved all her life, but the only home she has left. She'll fight for it, just like she did for Valentia.
She shakes her head then, as if to shake away the mood that gripped her, her smile a little sheepish. ]
But what am I saying? This is hardly a topic for such a wonderful night as this.
[ She looks away, over the balcony—but something in the sky suddenly catches her eye, and her face lights up in wonder. ]
Oh, look! The sky! [ Light is beginning to spill from Thesa station, bathing the stars in light. ]
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[ But he knows that she will likely choose to focus on the good of the evening, and he can hardly blame her given that he'd do the same.
He looks up to where she motions, eyes widening as the night sky is illuminated. ]
Ah... what a dazzling display from Thesa Station.
[ Music from inside of the building switches to a slower melody, one that compliments the twinkling in the sky quite nicely. ]
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The music is soft and slow, as if lulling her into a dream. She lets that wash over her too, along with everything else—the crisp night air, Percival at her side, the warmth of his cloak wrapped around her. ]
Even so... I wish to remember this night well. I know now to relish these moments when I am able.
[ After all, they could end in an instant. And if they did, surely she would regret... not leaning her head against his shoulder, as she does now, while they watch the stars shine. ]
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Then I should work to make the night extra memorable for you, shouldn't I? [ And right now seems as good a time as any. ]
We've yet to share a dance since arriving to the gala. I would be a terrible date if I allowed everyone to dance with you except for myself. [ He doesn't pull away from her, but offers her his hand from the side. ]
Shall we?
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Her smile unfolds like a flower to the morning sun, soft and warm, reflecting in her eyes and resounding in her chest. ]
Yes, I would like that.
[ She takes his hand and sweeps into an elegant curtsy, his cloak only a slight hindrance. She laughs a little when it slips from her shoulder, but she adjusts it quickly before settling into his hold, one hand in his while the other rests on his shoulder. ]
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He beams proudly when she agrees and returns the smile, taking her hand in his and resting the other on the small of her waist. He is comfortable enough that he doesn't think twice about holding Clair close, guiding their way with practiced ease.
He's about to crack a joke, but decides not to ruin the mood for now. It's nice, to enjoy this with her, under the brightly lit sky. ]
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Content, at least enough to let the silence linger while she drinks in the moment. She shifts a little closer to him as they dance, as if drawn in by his warmth, her fingers curling around his neck. ]
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Eventually, his strides become longer, their movement around the balcony more pronounced and sweeping. He breaks apart only for a moment to ease her into a twirl, and unfortunately, when he catches Clair, he doesn't realize that they've been caught under a sprig of mistletoe. ]
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That's when she realizes that she's... stuck, like her legs are made of lead. In that moment, her eyes widen in surprise—but this isn't the first time that she's been caught in the mistletoe's trap, and so she glances up, not quite as surprised by what she sees. ]
Oh, bother...
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What manner of—
[ He looks up to where she's silently gesturing, his easy smile replaced by an embarrassed flush. ]
Of course. Why should we have ever considered ourselves safe from such trickery?! [ His mood is considerably less happy now, though it's not her fault, he's just...
this isn't his first time either, and he's tired of being embarrassed. Pepecry. ]
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She blushes too, if only because he's blushing—not that she's accustomed to this kind of behavior now, but rather... there's an element of resignation in the drop of her shoulders, along with the indignation writ plain on her face. ]
Even now—how tiresome!
[ She was really enjoying their dance too... the mood was light and carefree... and now it's been Tainted. Her grip in his tightens reflexively before she looks up to meet his gaze. ]
I suppose... it is best done with haste.
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He can even rib at her, a bit. His cheeks still tinged pink, he purses his lips and eyes her critically. ]
Hm. Is kissing me so distasteful that it needs to be over with quickly, Lady Clair?
[ There's even a small grin on his face, and if that isn't enough indication that he's not being serious, he lightly runs his thumb along the back of her palm. ]
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No! Certainly not! [ Wait, no. What is she saying?! She's just getting more flustered. ] That is, it was not my intention to imply—that!
[ It's right about... now... when she finally realizes that he's teasing her, that swipe of his thumb across the back of her hand sending a jolt of warm electricity running down her arm, straight to her chest. Oh. She makes a moue of indignation and looks away, trying to muster up of the shreds of her dignity. ]
Don't bait me so.
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You dare accuse me of such a thing? [ It's not exactly easy for him to stop the embarrassment from growing, either, but the smile on his face grows softer.
He pulls on her hand a bit, silently asking her to look at him again. Normally, he likely wouldn't be so forward, but the magic surrounding them makes it more difficult for him to pay any attention to reservation. ]
I jest. [ Yea, he's a shit. ]
I am aware that we have no choice but to continue, but... how can I make this the least... uncomfortable for you?
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You enjoyed that far too much.
[ What a shit, but there's a twinge of fondness there. Instinctively, her gaze drifts to his mouth, before she catches herself and pulls it back up to his eyes. Maybe it's the mistletoe, but she feels almost... spellbound, her nerves humming in anticipation. ]
There is no need—I am ready. [ Which says—probably a lot more than she'd intended. Here, she angles her head upwards, a coy shine to her eyes. Almost challenging. ]
That is, if you are.
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He feels more than a bit of pride at seeing her smile return, little by little. ]
Of course I am ready. But what do you see me as, some sort of battle to be conquered? [ He chides her, but with enough self-awareness to know that this is exactly the same sort of shit he'd say. His smile is wide and warm now, and he cups her cheek in his palm, leaning down to press their lips together softly. ]
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She finds herself shifting closer, seeking more, each movement a little boat that sails for his shores: her hands clutching the front of his jacket, holding him close; the tilt of her head towards the warmth of his palm; the slant of her mouth against his, so that she can kiss him more firmly. ]
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Gradually, and only after the beating of his heart begins to still again, he pulls away. The desire to pull away completely and disassociate the situation, an inevitable feeling that has come each and every time the mistletoe affected him before, simply isn't there.
He laughs lowly, more than a little awkward and sheepish. ]
You're right. I wasn't ready.