There is a peculiar warmth that entices the petite form which lays upon the current bedding... an illumination of beams, streaming betwixt partially drawn curtains to conceal the window above. Blonde tufts shift in her brief stirs from slumber, lids unmercifully weighted in their coaxing to return to such a peaceful rest. Lips part to intake a shallow breath, attempting to fend this lethargic feeling that her body craves for only a few more, precious moments. Limbs barely budge before they still, her physique dormant once again.
-- a fleeting recollection, as if it were but a minuscule reverie --
Bare soles relishes in the cool blades of grass with each trek forward, pools of lavender reflecting the grace this day has to offer. For, it is within this garden she comes in prayer, to hearken the bells belonging to such a picturesque church not far off. Ah, but so they resound their harmonious tones... only for her veins to set aflame upon each toll, an apprehension seizing hold of her palpitating heart.
"Come, daughter of God--"
Vocables resonate from her very interior, as if the very soul harboured within this frame is burning with an intensity she cannot quell. No longer can she stride forward, both legs enfeebled so. Dazzling is the radiance that engulfs her, each syllable pellucid upon her very own ears. There is no mistake of the divinity that seeps from every second thus spent here, the bewildered child collapsing upon each knee whilst she trembles gently.
Coral lips open in an effort to speak, yet no voice escapes.
"Heed us, child. Remain good and pure; listen to our guidance."
There she remains, hearing the piercing noise behind the forms that come forth whilst the masculine voice speaks his message. One a gentleman of fine features, none she has yet been blessed to view in this mortal world. The two other are but visages that float from beyond his clothed figure -- women, their countenances feminine in curvature and amiable nature. Even so she cannot refrain from quivering in fright, tears beginning to swell in each corner of her eye.
Minutes pass into what seems hours before this whitened luminescence dissipates slowly from her gaze. A single hand lifts in an attempt to interrupt their retreat to no avail. Soon, the meadow returns to the lush and earthly realm it once was prior. It is only a single muttering laced within the chirping birds that remains of such an ethereal encounter, a diminutive reminder of what had just transpired.
"Fear not, O Daughter, for return we shall..."
... a single tear trickles downward atop pale skin, the pillow case dampened where the other side of her face presses to it. Slow is the opening of each eye, elfin digits moving to brush along the glistening trail. She cannot find it within her to utter a single word, taking note that these walls do not belong to the room which she normally stays. Thus, she presses herself upward to sit soundly in this foreign bed, peeling the blankets from her body to alleviate the heat that settles upon her skin as tears begin to pour down each cheek.
In quietude she glances through the sunlit stained window that is of another's keeping, the sound of distant ringing in both ears accompany the bustling city beyond the structure soon intermingle with the pondering mind to such an unobtainable dream.
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Attention temporarily drawn to the soft murmur of attendants leaving the ball, the raven finds himself pleasantly surprised by the facial visage of the blonde as his golden optics drift back to her person. While one might perhaps comment upon her rather gentle, and lovely looking face, Gilbert instead finds himself thinking of how much more visible the optics of the other are, despite always being in full view before. Perhaps it’s the idea that since the mask has been removed that now it’s easier to see the full intent behind her lavender hues… Or at least, this is what crosses his mind.
And it makes him feel rather silly.
Though the feeling washes away as quickly as it appeared upon the next comment of the other, causing the male to blink in surprise and merely offer a somewhat dumbfounded look. Due to his lack of company most of the time, such words or appreciation is almost foreign to the raven-haired one, who is merely used to the almost constant company of a younger blond. Though words of kindness and compliments are not lost to him, as females at these events tend to bombard him with such things, he finds himself at a loss of what to say at this particular blonde’s comment, if only because of the genuineness of her words.
Turning away for a moment if only to hide the new shade of pink rising to his cheeks, the male takes one more, long drag of his cigarette before flicking it to the ground, stepping on it gently. He absolutely never thought of himself to enjoy his time during this event, never mind spend most of his evening with someone actually genuine. For moment, he can’t help but find it ironic, as he had truly expected the worst at this masquerade and did not even bother to hope for more than his expectations.
"Y-You don’t need to thank me for something like that," deeper vocables finally fill the air as the male responds, the corners of his lips turning slightly upwards once more. "But even so… I find myself needing to thank you, to… For making this night even slightly worthwhile," he pauses for a moment, perhaps mauling over what he just uttered, a brief look of embarrassment and panic washing over his features.
"So… Thank you, Jehanne. M-My name’s Gilbert, by the way… Gilbert Nightray," the introduction is finally made, the male offering a meek bow to the blonde as he does so, attempting to retain some form of tact and pride despite his earlier embarrassment. "I’m sorry for keeping you so long, though… The night is growing shorter and I think it’s almost time for us to leave, even if we may not want to," he motions back to the entrance of the garden once more, turning his body to ready himself for the walk towards it.
Curious is the glance she gives upon the turning of his head. Violaceous hues trace the defined contours of his countenance, as if to seek an evident answer to his motion. Elfin digits maintain their loose grip upon the silvern swathed mask betwixt them, limbs drooping before her petite figure to tap the rigid edges against her upper thigh idly upon hearkening his response. Lips curl upward in a minuscule smile, however, to such humble words.
"Then there is no necessity in thanking me as well," the tone of low vocables repress a diminutive chuckle. For, in the eyes of this maiden before him, it is not but one who carries so joyously the value of a single night. Rather, it is the company altogether which exudes uplifted spirits from that one might perceive as drab to their very taste.
To his name finally revealed, there is a mirror of his own action. Golden tresses sway in the tilting downward of her visage, only to lift so she might tuck the article of clothing within her hands beneath her arm for a more comfortable grip. "As I recall, it was myself who had you accompany me, nor would I have stayed longer than I might want if not," a jesting retort to the apologies he proffers. There is a step forward upon his motioning, permitting porcelain digits to trail along the verdant foliage one last time before striding at a leisurely pace. Eyes lift to glance upon the scintillating stars embedded to the blanket of darkness above, taking this fleeting moment to find peace in their surroundings one last time.
"Even if one may not desire it to cease, there are always meetings of the future to find solace in," she muses aloud, partially to her own self than his own wording of eventide endings. The upward gaze soon falls to him yet again before the quietude sinks in too deeply. "Perchance we might meet again, Gilbert."
Cordial are these uttered words, akin to an invitation than to rest upon chance if it were to please him so. Soles tap lightly against each step leading upward to the path they took previously, noting the fork in the walkways that leads back to the establishment and the other to the exit. Treks halt, her direction pointed to where she might slip away unseen without bother to any pedestrians in their own departures, nor where those who she accompanied might seek her to return her to several more hours to the ongoing event.
"I pray you do not mind walking unaccompanied the rest of the way back?"
o for a voice like thunder, and a tongueto drown the throat of war! - when the sensesare shaken, and the soul is driven to madnesswho can stand? when the souls of the oppressedfight in the troubled air that rages, who can stand?when the whirlwind of fury comes from thethrone of god, when the frowns of his countenancedrive the nations together, who can stand?
may you sail far to the far fields of fortunewith diamonds and pearls at your head and your feetand may you need never to banish misfortunemay you find kindness in all that you meetmay there always be angels to watch over youto guide you each step of the wayto guard you and keep you safe from all harmloo-li loo-li lai-lay
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Fingers tapped diligently against square keys as eyes focused on virtual words that appeared onscreen, his focus entirely on his work despite being quite outside his office. "That’s not right… no, we’ll move stocks along this date… right and then… yes, that’s correct…" he mumbled, words barely audible save for himself to allow concentration to sharpen. Hope intended to take a break from the pressure of work but it seemed no matter where he went, it followed him. Luckily, he was near an end to this task, with only a press of a button between him and his coffee.
"And done. Phew…" He slumped back, exhaling a tired breath as he saves his work and sends the rest to be processed by others back in the main building. Now he could truly begin a day of relaxation. Hope closes the top half of his laptop, having settled his work for the day before grasping his warm cup of coffee. The scent was invigorating, and he was about to indulge in its taste when he is disturbed by a gentle voice, eyes flickering towards their source.
"Hm?" Ah, a young lady. Blinking, Hope looks around briefly before nodding, bringing a hand out to gesture towards the chair, topping his actions off with a warm smile. "Oh no, I won’t mind at all. I can see why you had to ask about it, though. This cafe is fairly popular, so I’m not surprised when seats get filled with ease. Glad I somehow managed to spare a seat for you indirectly."
Observing the gesture in lingering curiosity, she cannot help but return the cordial smile with one of her own. Coral lips turn upward whilst she eases herself into the chair opposite the businessman. Dainty fingers wrap themselves around the cup containing the beverage of her choice, relishing in the heat it exudes. "You have my thanks," raising her vocables to utter these words of gratitude above the chattering pedestrians which surround them.
Elevating the demitasse does she hearken, supping gently at the scalding java. There is an understanding in what he speaks, something that she finds herself appreciative of in this moment. "Perhaps others thought you were waiting on another, so they dare not ask," she suggests in jest, hinting to the prior worries she had upon inquiring him if she could occupy such. Genuinely, it was such a reason she had expected rejection to her inquiry, having thought as well an additional person had accompanied him.
Eyes drift from his own, peering into the pool of brown liquid which rests before her. "Unfortunately I am still new to these cities, so I knew not this was of popular selection. Though I suppose I have learned for future reference if I am in a hurry," she admits, considering the length of her stay in comparison to how much time has been permitted to educate herself of this temporal metropolis which she hails home.
Communication differed exponentially when without the proper means to express oneself through vocal articulation. Bereft of conversational fluidity possible through ordinary speech, acceptance, followed by necessary conformation, was required in order to overcome the challenges presented by the disability that was to be endured evermore. Blessedly, a multitude of options had brought an incredibly level of simplicity to this trifling ordeal.
Memo pads purchased on a bi-monthly basis, coupled by utensils to write upon the parchment, guaranteed a way to express himself without complication. Modern conveniences such as the message function upon cellular devices permitted yet another method of communication. It was moderately soothing to always be capable of advantageously using one of the aforementioned systems to voice both thoughts and opinions as though an actual voice was something he owned.
Unfavorable happenstances were still capable of occurring as situations not related to the speech impairment sprung up without prior warning. Having been in the midst of texting his roomate, attention had been diverted, thus having resulted in an unfortunate collision with a passing civilian. It sent the electronic careening to the unforgiving asphalt, the display cracking ominously, a sure indication that the machine was beyond salvation. This was not as dreadful as having troubled an absolute stranger, visible trepidation seen while a pen made to provide an apology.
Impetuous are the companions who tend to find themselves in the presence of this peculiar missionary. Whimsical, giving way to impulses without proper arrangement or consideration to any plans which the youthful blonde might have stowed away for the near future. Any attempt to decline has thus fallen on deaf ears, stimulating what she comprehends to be a disconsolate expression. Thankful is she, howsoever, that nothing of importance is to be cast aside. For, had such a thing been in place, there would be no doubt of her intolerance to their constant urging.
Thusly she treks about the city of Kairos in search for their point to converge, violaceous swathed hues lingering upon reflected glass of the storefront windows. It is so that she pays minuscule consciousness to the passing citizens, weaving briefly between brushing shoulders and breezes. Forceful is the thump that awakens her from the insouciant reverie prior to their collision, the clattering of plastic resounding over the plodding soles atop the cement walkways. Instantaneous does she lift lithe hands, reaching to offer any assistance to the other.
"Forgive me," she begins, vocables apologetic to mimic the array of emotions painted across porcelain features. Silencing herself, her gaze rests upon the notepaper to read what he has scrawled. "I am... though I should be inquiring such of you in turn."
Upon discovering him well, keen to note no prominent injuries, her focus shifts to the diminutive device which has fallen from his grasp. Leaning forward, she takes hold of it to lift, wincing unobtrusively whilst fragments of the screen fleck away. Sweeping straggling pieces aside, there is a contrite smile proffered. "I cannot say the same for your phone," one hand extending it to him upon pointing the damage out to him.
"In sooth, I am to blame as well... I pray you will allow me to make it up to you."
Her answer is both expected and unexpected; expected in terms of her acceptance yet unexpected in the sense that he had not predicted her wording at all. Her warm tone and non judgmental acceptance feels almost foreign to the male, who’s more than used to others pinning him down rather quickly and dismissing him. Unsure of truly how to act or respond to such significant words, Gilbert finds himself simply looking towards the ground, a faint blush evident on his cheeks, of which he tries to hide with his downward gaze.
Still somewhat flustered by the response and by his own reaction, which he finds beyond embarrassing, the male attempts to calm himself once more as he inhales once more from his cigarette, exhaling a small puff of smoke into the sky above. Along with the blonde, he finds himself admiring the twinkling lights above them, perhaps briefly wondering how something so unattainable can still be so lovely, in its own way. Perhaps the fleeting thought is a little too insightful for the raven, but at this moment in time, he doesn’t seem to mind terribly.
His gaze is once more drawn back to the female, perhaps in mild surprise, as she digresses briefly in what she does, Gilbert himself not quite expecting that from her… And yet, from what she said earlier, it fits her somehow, he thinks. Of course, Gilbert has only been to church only a handful of times, but he does have an interest in learning about various religions and practices, since he himself does believe in the existence of something above.
"That sounds…"
"Celestial," he finds himself responding to her sentiment, the corners of his lips quietly turning upward. A glove hand extends itself to gently take the flora offered to him by the slender digits of the other, silently examining it as he spins it slowly within his fingers. Perhaps too caught up in the moment, Gilbert finds himself devoid of embarrassment or nervousness… Which he finds odd but also finds relief in such a thing. It seems he spends far too much time worrying that he neglects to see the finer things in life.
"I don’t think… What you do sounds weird at all. It’s something… A lot of people don’t do enough these days. Helping others, I mean… I’m… Happy to see someone that enjoys doing it," he quietly adds, continuing to stare at the flower as he briefly furrows his brows in thought.
"Seeing anyone smile… Makes anything worthwhile, I think,"
Within this brief quietude does the youthful saint take notice of the drifting melodies, mauve hues drifting to the entrance to the masquerade which continues without their immediate presence. Few trickle out from the doorway, their laughter barely audible upon the crisp evening air. It is in this observance she recollects the weight of the silvern mask concealing her countenance, the weight once more comprehensible as her attention is drawn to it. Thus, supple digits lift to remove the object, seeking relief as the chilled breeze refreshes the vicinity.
Once ridden of the simplistic article, her chin lifts so she might heed more clearly of what he speaks. Complimentary are the words he utters, yet it merely invokes a sensation of mild perplexity to his selection of wording, though she refrains from inquiring. "Thank you," a quaint nod of her head following this utterance with the sway of blonde tresses.
"I agree... I would like it so if others indulged as well."
Limbs droop before her as they keep grip of the velveteen object her visage once donned. Naive this maiden might be, she does not burden herself with delusions that all will partake in their dwelling kindliness. For every embrace of affection, there is bound to be a whim of cruelty. To any existence on this planet, they wield the capacity to assist others around them... scarcely, however, do they act on such.
Eyes rest upon his, finding intrigue in the peculiar colouring momentarily. For a kind heart as his own, whether buried or upon his sleeve, she wonders if the gilded eyes which he possesses is a reflection of his own soul. Lips turn upward, erasing the prior expression into one of faint witticism. "Then I suppose our time is worthwhile, is it not? Before we left that room, you had not smiled," her tone filled with good intent than something meant to provoke embarrassment in any form, redirecting herself to the way of the ballroom as if not wishing to keep him any longer than he might desire.
"Thank you again for conversing like this with me, even without exchanging names," she mentions, realizing the length of time they had before any introduction. "It is Jehanne."
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The blonde does, admittedly, have a point in her reasoning, and Gilbert himself cannot deny this. Perhaps because of this, he stays silent for a moment as he lights a match, igniting the cigarette in his mouth when the permission had been uttered. Really, he never expected to find himself spending time in the garden with a woman, all by themselves, discussing deeper things than intended… But in a way, he doesn’t think he’d have it any other way, despite his mild frustration at attempting to find an answer for himself.
It’s true that he had come to this masquerade tonight at the request of his parents; the duo had somehow managed to guilt trip the raven into attending against his own will, and that still perplexes him… Though, perhaps the answer is becoming more clear now. Yes, as he recalls, they had briefly mentioned that his adopted sibling, the one of which kept his smile during his years growing up in that great mansion, and how he would be attending tonight’s event as well. That’s right… Gilbert had wanted to see him after all.
Even if the younger sibling didn’t see him, perhaps Gilbert just taking notice of him would be enough… But in reality, he is far more selfish and wants more than that. It’s not often he gets to see that sibling of his and perhaps in a way, he misses the fond memories they had together and how the two would always smile fondly at each other…
Maybe he just wanted to see it again.
"You’re right; I could have said no, but… I suppose there was one person’s smile I wanted to see," he finally replies, his gaze averting up into the sky for a moment as his expression begins to ease into a calmer one. Exhaling a small puff of smoke, he turns his attention back to the blonde, his golden gaze meeting hers of lavender. “There’s always another chance though, I suppose,” he adds on, a small smile forming as he balances the cigarette in between his lips.
It’s hard not to, as she begins to speak once more, her reason sounding surprisingly genuine to the male, who is perhaps more often than not used to hearing rather vibrant fabrications. He tucks his hands into his pockets as the female once more promenades along beside him, Gilbert contemplating her answer as he turns his head to exhale another tuft of smoke, taking care not to breathe any onto her features, despite her earlier answer.
"Sometimes, people need to have time to themselves, though; to have something to indulge themselves in every now and then," he comments, glancing over to her once more. Ironic that he says that, given his nature, but he can’t help but point out in others what he can’t exactly see in himself. "But if that makes you happy… Then that’s all that matters, I think,"
Hearkening the reasoning of his attendance is not something she expects, though there is a warmth that permeates throughout her chest at the mention. To understand fully is something she can be thankful for, knowing of such an innocent desire despite his detesting nature of such events. Brief is the thought of who it might be he references, doubtful as ever that she might be acquainted with the person in question. Hands droop the rose that once garnered her attention, chin lifting to disclose the comprehensive smile that has formed.
"Forgive me for taking away that time you came for," her apology mimicking the tender expression flourishing upon pale features. "I see now. I must admit, something as this is rather admirable. They must be fortunate to have someone as that."
Truthful words are uttered, unable to help in commending the sacrifice of his distastes in light of another. In sooth, she finds it is something similar to what she might enact if a time were to ever call. Surely she will remain true to herself, allowing for her own decisions in hindsight, yet she cannot deny that such a peculiar loyalty to one dwells in her heart. For if she was able to see something as consequential, there would be no reluctance in setting aside all the aversion she might in achieving it.
Even as he continues to speak, there is an appreciative notion to his words. A chuckle, arms falling to each side whilst her thumb brushes against an idle thorn. "I agree, though I suppose many might consider what I take for my time as weird." Lavender hues lift to stare at the blanket of black that covers the sky, twinkling with distant stars that appear lilliputian from where they stride. "I would not blame you if you did as well. Prayer is not so commonly practiced in great devotion as I do," she continues, confessing with ease to that of her faith.
"But, whether others see it as unnatural... then so be it. As you said, so long as your happiness is present, then nothing else should matter," one foot positioning her in front of him deftly whilst she talks. Lifting the flower, she offers it to him as if it were a representation of their separate contentment. "As I pray it is with the smile you seek...
In the back of his mind, there lingers a certain regret for admitting to his rather embarrassing behaviour from earlier. He’s not one to lie easily, but in a way, he feels as if it would have saved him from any quick judgement to be received by the other in consequence. Oddly enough, despite the two being mere strangers to one another, there is a sense he gets from the blonde as they make their way to the garden… The sense that she, perhaps, would not fault him for something so miniscule, unlike many others that have decided to attend this event tonight.
Though, perhaps he is also merely being hopeful. After all, the idea of escaping the party for mere moments with someone with a similar opinion to his is enough, in a way, to momentarily blind him from seeing how things really are… But even so, the effects would still be temporary, if he is suffering from them at all. After all, Gilbert is still rather honest and to a point, blunt, which perhaps makes deception on his part difficult at times.
Upon her inquiry as they approach the gardens at long last, he offers a short exhale of breath in mild surprise, his gold hues drifting off to look at the various rose bushes as he mauls over his thoughts. In a way, the question had been expected, and he himself had been planning to ask her the very same thing… Knitting his eyebrows together in thought, his gaze remains glued on the various flora nearby as he opens his mouth to speak, his tone rather subdued and hush.
"I… Don’t like how loud it is… And the people are really… Questionable," both statements which are, of course, true. Clamorous events such as these are very much disliked by the male, who prefers the quiet as opposed to the chatter of hundreds in one small room. The socialites at these parties as well leave a sour taste in the raven-haired male’s mouth. All too often they speak in their small groups of who appears to be poor or who they choose to gossip about that evening, often caring not for those outside of their business and social circles.
"Someone like me… Doesn’t really belong here, I guess," he sighs finally, mumbling words almost audible to only himself as he digs in his breast pocket for a smoke. "And you? I’m guessing you don’t like the noise, either," he wages a guess, finally taking out a cigarette from his jacket and placing it into his mouth. As he frowns at the thought of the various people inside, his expression contorts into one of almost childlike curiosity as his eyebrows shoot up, looking to the female once more.
For a mere moment, it feels as if she is being permitted access to that of a deep secret. Not for the content which he mutters, but in the very essence that each syllable exudes. Like a tale that is only meant to spread through whispers, she discovers it compels her to listen intently. A peculiar reaction, though one she is able to appreciate while breathing in the late night zephyrs. Subconsciously she leans herself forward, curiosity swelling with the modest furrow of her brows whilst attempting to comprehend.
"I see," she replies, vocables matching the gentleness of his own. "Yet... I cannot understand, either. If you dislike it so, why not refuse to attend? You are no longer a child, so you should no longer be treated as one in how it is you spend your time."
Perchance it is the grasp of her naivety which surfaces the query. To say she does not abide by that of her parents' will would be a falsehood, one she dare not think to utter. Ah, but something as that... it is something obliged by her own desire to do so, as they have never brought forth to her something she has not felt opposed of. In thought, the only time that her own actions she might allow to be dictated and swayed is by a single word of He. Foolish to many, yet undoubtedly devout and utmost truthful to all she believes.
Soles allow her to wander briefly from the side of her company, extending a single hand to trail along roseate petals peering from the verdant foliage. There is a glance over her shoulder as she contemplates how to phrase her own answer, displaying a fleeting smile. "Even if I did, it is not my place to forbid you." After all, it is not the garden that she governs or the crisp air that lingers within them. And, whilst digits work to safely remove one of the flowers from their bush, she begins.
"I have never found reason behind it. I would much rather spend my hours assisting those in need than catering to my own whims," she muses, lips pursing discreetly as lavender hues examine the rose held between two, slender fingers. "It is not the loudness or interaction, but that I could be doing something more worthwhile in the time it takes to dress yourself and participate."
Genuine is her explanation, turning so that she might face the black-clad companion once more to effortlessly catch up. Three steps are all it takes before she is able to stride leisurely beside him once more, paying no heed to his preference in luxury, hardly catching scent of the smoke he exhales.
Quietude lingers within the atmosphere of the quaint cafe that stands petite amongst the neighbouring structures. Tranquil, the swirling arouma of each particular coffee wafts throughout the crowded shop in a delectable scent. Whether it comes from a cup from the nearest customer or that of the employees working swift to fill each order, it is difficult to say. That does not prevent the young missionary from indulging in the pleasantries they proffer, allowing herself to find enjoyment with every inhale whilst attempting to locate a suitable seat amidst the masses.
Chairs fill with the populace that seeks the comfort of a hot beverage and the lack of disturbance it might surface as they read through thickened books or trail fingers elegantly across the keyboards of their devices. One seat remains empty, she notes, across from another who appears cordial in his entirety. Hesitance is apparent as she initially steps forward, pondering if it might see rude to merely sit across from the stranger despite the lacking arrangements to accommodate all their guests.
Thusly, she leans forward with cup in hand to address him with a considerate tone.
"Pray pardon," she begins, lithe digits trailing over the porcelain demitasse. She is cautious not to interrupt anything of importance he might be focused on. "Would you mind if I sat here?"
As he hastily follows behind his new companion, his eyes glued firmly onto the floor below them, he finds his gaze drifting back upward at her confession, his eyes widening slightly. For a moment, he considers on questioning her why her mind has so suddenly changed from her initial suggestion, himself briefly entertaining various possibilities. Mostly ranging from the sudden idea of her finding his company boring and unfavourable (which, to be fair, is what he thinks of himself at times) to the female remembering that she must be home by a certain curfew… Like a fairytale.
She’s the kind that suits the lead of such a tale, he thinks, akin to Cinderella.
Upon hearing her continue, however, he finds himself sighing in relief and his figure immediately shooting up and straightening out, mentally scolding himself for being unable to stop it from happening. Still, as he recollects himself, trying to appear aloof once more, he can’t help but feel slightly comforted by the fact that this stranger has wanted nothing more than to escape the party much like him… And he also feels slightly amused by the irony of it all.
"No, I…" he starts, pausing alongside with his companion as the directive sign for the garden comes into view. For moment, he wonders how to phrase what he wants to say before a sigh of slight frustration at his own bashfulness. “… You’re right, I’m not… One for these sorts of events… It’s embarrassing that it’s so obvious,” he grimaces for a moment, before straightening himself out once again as he looks to the shorter blonde.
"A-Anyway, I… Don’t really see the harm in spending some time outside in the quiet… Especially with someone that understands my… Distaste for these huge parties,” his tone begins to sound lighter as he makes an effort to appear even slightly more amiable to the woman who understands his plight. She doesn’t seem so bad, as he noted before… Definitely not like the typical groups of women that giggle around him when he attends these large social events, that’s for sure…
So, offering a small smile, one genuine in nature, he takes a step forward towards the garden, turning to face his companion once more. Adjusting his gloves slightly, he looks at her gently with his bright golden eyes before opening his mouth to speak.
Contrite is the mien which forms in response, not having intended to incite any form of humiliation. Perchance there was a minuscule expectancy which she poorly clung to, that her assumption may be dismissed by that of a mistaken observation. For, despite his stuttered speech within the confines of the prodigious building, she admits that there could have been several other causes to the behaviour he displayed. "If it eases that, it was a simple guess," she consoles briefly, wondering if it might place the black glad guest in more comfort of his external reaction to the masquerade itself.
Eyes drift momentarily, soaking in the multitude of sights before returning to where he stands. There is a blink, one of diminutive surprise at the genuine smile that awaits. Although a brief pause is given, lips curl into one of her own that reciprocates the amicable demeanor he presents. Stepping forward, she gives a nod for her acceptance, allowing him to take the lead momentarily before aligning herself to walk beside him. "I agree. It is somewhat comforting... as if it makes one feel less of an outcast, upon thinking about it," a benevolent chuckle following after. "Quiet conversation like this is more appeasing than how loud it can get there."
While she did not know if he felt the same, it was unmistakable that she felt more at peace in the company of another who shared those sentiments. Verily, she did not think that someone who dressed in prosperous, fanciful apparel as himself would rather elude the social gatherings. And, beginning to see the foliage of the gardens appear at the upcoming turn, she tilts her head upward to address him audibly of her curiosities.
"What is it that you dislike about these gatherings?"
One brow quirks discreetly, weaving fantastical conjectures to bide the time it takes him to respond if he found suitable. Naivety is something many attribute to her, apparent in some queries she utters aloud. In this instant, she cannot seem to discover reason why one of fair appearance combined with a gentlemanly conduct might find disinterest in events as these. Until now, she has never met one seemingly disenchanted despite their possible blessings.
Gilbert has almost forgotten that wine and champagne were available at these sorts of events and as such, the smell of the red alcohol on his suit almost feels nostalgic, in a way. It’s been a while, he thinks, since he’s really had red wine… At most of his family events, such a beverage is almost always offered, but rarely does he actually take it and when he does, it’s for the less dry white wine. In a way, he also finds himself slightly impressed that such a delicate looking woman is able to consume the bitter alcohol of which he rarely can.
He supposes he’s always preferred the sweeter drinks to the bitter ones… But saying that would make him seem foolish and in a way, weak perhaps. Though, that thought in itself seems rather silly to Gilbert, who decides to quickly shake it off before averting his full attention to the blonde once more.
"Really?" he finds himself asking, the question itself practically rhetorical in nature. "Yes… Yes, I suppose that’s right. A lot of people like this… Don’t like to give the others the time of day in these situations…" he trails off a bit in thought, his tone sounding perhaps a little far off as his golden hues drift temporarily to the dance floor. Frankly, he never likes socializing with a lot of the higher class people, particularly because of their desire for something from any specific person… Not only that, but GIlbert himself feels as if he doesn’t have anything to really offer in the first place.
Best to save them from their inevitable disappointment.
"… Thank you," is then softly added as the other hands his once clean handkerchief, a gloved hand outstretched to gently take it from the blonde. Truthfully, this particular handkerchief is one he ends up using to wipe his features when cooking in his own kitchen, so to see it become dirtied once more… Feels almost welcome to the raven, who gives a soft smile look at the piece of cloth before folding it back into his pocket once more.
A blink in surprise is given upon hearing her offer, however, his nervous demeanor from earlier making its appearance once more. While he doesn’t wish to stay inside for longer than necessary, he isn’t too sure about going outside with this stranger… But then again, she doesn’t seem so bad at all, and she has a point, really. Not only that, but perhaps he can finally indulge himself with a smoke! Ah, what a treat…
"… S-Sure, I don’t mind," he sputters after a moment, stiffly following after the other. “You, ah… Didn’t get too much wine on your dress, did you?”
To encounter one who understands the same line of thought gives the missionary a flutter of warmth. Rare is it that many are so understanding, a trait she cannot help to find admiration for. There is a subtle smile which plays upon coral lips, fingers fiddling before her whilst immersed in such notions. In sooth, to look beyond that of his stuttering speech, one might find a peculiar charm concealed away. A single, soft exhale betrays her internal gaiety to that of his commentary.
Words are lost, however, as she continues to contemplate on what conversation she could provide. Talk as this is not the forte of the plain woman who finally passes beyond the threshold that leads her to the chilled, night air. Little concern is given to what others might seek warmth for, digits curling against the loose fabrics of her attire.
Upon his inquiry, bright hues turn once more to glance beyond her shoulder to meet his gilded gaze. "No, nothing ample." Her left index of her hand trailing over a darkened spot briefly. "In sooth, it would have been well to stay indoors," she confesses, mentally noting that she would likely never garb herself in this particular outfit after tonight. Before features shone with upturned lips, though it is as if the evening zephyrs have carried it away.
"I am not fond of parties," the gentle tone continues from her previous statement. "The only reason I came was at a request of friends, so your bumping into me was a blessing; a way to slip out without bothering them to leave."
No harm had come to accepting their invitation to tag along, despite the contrast between their talkative nature and her own quietude. Pausing several paces from the entrance, she spots the sign directing individuals to a garden, though she does not seek to take it quite yet. "I figured I would ask if you wanted to join me because you seemed..." Vocables trail off as she seeks the proper phrasing, a tilt of her head in thought before leaving it for him to fill in. "If you had refused, though, it would not have minded."
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The voice had caught me off guard. Not only was it unfamiliar, it was kind and caring, something that had been rare in the other city and separated the Paralians from the Kairos’. To go along with the theory, she looked gentle from her head to her toes— if that could accurately describe her— as if she’d never belonged to a rugged city. Being in Paralia now, perhaps I was the odd one that wasn’t expected.
Obviously I’ve spent too much time away from my childhood city.
I watched silently as she wound the flowers around the wire and used the tape to hold them down.
Genius.
That was definitely something I failed to pick up on, proving I clearly had no idea what I was doing.
I looked back at my own ring, and picked up the flower that had fell. As carefully mimicked a job as she’d done, I wrapped the first one around and fastened it to the wire with my tape. Then to be sure the top wouldn’t unravel again, I unpeeled another piece of tape and placed it near the flower’s head.
”Like that?” It looked a little messy, but at least it was done.
Under the impression that I was starting to get the hang of it, I continued on with a few more flowers in silence. And then eventually,
”Were you raised here?” My curiosities dove in earlier directions for whatever reason. “You’re a lot like the people I grew up with here, always lending a helping hand without a second thought. It’s a nice reminder.” Especially considering the everyday hustle and bustle of the next town over.
I scooted a little closer to her on the bench, not by much, but just enough to make conversing a little less awkward.
"Precisely," she responds, a nigh chuckle escaping at his query. "You learn fast."
Violaceous gaze lingers for several moments after, only averting her eyes once she is confident of his understanding. There is a tranquility that swells through her, gentle zephyrs swirling about to allow golden tufts to tickle against porcelain skin. One flower flutters off from the loose grip of her thumb and index, the maiden leaning forward with a nigh look of surprise painted upon her countenance. Though it is one lost to the winds of destiny, she releases a contented sigh before selecting aother to work with.
Quietude is broken soon after, twisting the stem gently whilst she lifts her chin to be as attentive as possible. "I fear I have mislead you," she speaks as if she has done so purposefully, though it is apparent in the gentle tone she adopts it is a simple jest. "I came here from France to aid the church; a missionary, to be more accurate."
There is a delight that floods each word. Not of praise to her own workings and deeds, but that those in need might finally receive what assistance they deserve. "Your city, though... it is lovely," the praise sincere in every aspect. "It reminds me much of the town I came from. If I were not born in Rouen, perhaps it would have pleased the Lord I be raised as you were." Solemn is the brief expression she displays, lithe digits fiddle with several petals before continuing their task, in turn asking queries of her own.
"Are you fond of it? I pray they hold many events as this for the resident's entertainment."
For a moment, the raven-haired male finds himself at a loss for words upon looking down into eyes of violet. The optics of the female are, admittedly, quite unusual and the man with the unique golden hues finds himself admiring them for a moment before looking away to the left, a small pink colour arising onto his cheeks. Typically he’s not one to notice such things, but due to her eyes contrasting so vibrantly against her mask and pale features, he really couldn’t help but notice and find himself lost in them temporarily.
However odd that sounds.
"… Y-Yes! That’s right," he hastily sputters out, his eyebrows furrowing together as his expression contorts into one of surprise. Due to his impeccable luck, Gilbert had expected to bump into someone perhaps more abrasive and loud… So for him to knock into someone so seemingly patient is almost like a blessing to him, especially in such a foreign environment.
"Oh! N-No, none on me… Or at least, the amount spilled on me in on the black of my suit," therefore not making it very visible at all. In fact, the stain would only be visible to those that got into a close proximity of the male, and he doubts he’ll let that happen.
"I’m fine, really—…! It seems you spilled some on yourself though… S-Sorry, once more. Here, uhm—" his hands shaking slightly as he fumbles with his words, the raven-haired male manages to pull out a rather formal looking handkerchief from his pocket, offering it to the rather kind female. “Use this,”
One blink is displayed, tufts of gold swaying at the diminutive tilt of her head in wait of a response. Curious she is at what causes hesitance from the taller man, though she does not push herself in pursuit of this knowledge. Instead, coral lips twitch into that of a genial smile to his words at long last, merely content she has not frightened him off with how skittish he appears. Soles shift upon the flooring, inadvertently smearing what few drops that have fallen upon the tiles.
"For that, I am glad," her vocables filled with relief that her drink did not substantially ruin his outfit. A mere daughter to a lower class family she might be, it is not difficult to tell that which he is dressed is something exquisite indeed, the young missionary admiring the garment briefly.
It is only when he proffers the modish handkerchief does she set aside the glass, bowing her head in gratitude upon accepting it. "Most would have paraded off. I commend you for staying this long, even," she jests, fingers moving to dab at the tips of her hair before moving to scrub the seeped alcohol from what she is able. Lifting it to glance across the fabric once finished, she notes the stains in what used to be a pristine cloth. Silently she gives a promise to purchase another to gift him if the two were to ever cross paths again.
"Thank you." These words are followed by returning it before smoothing her attire out. Eyes shift to rest upon the exit, an idea forming swiftly in her idle stare. "I think escaping outside might help it dry quicker," she muses aloud, also considering it to deplete the aroma of wine from her person. Taking a step toward the entrance, she glances back to address the peculiar stranger once more.
