#birdrule

❝ who's to say you can't ? ❞ SILK's show in town has come and gone, yes, but their guitarist isn't above pulling a few future strings for a pretty girl. in fact, that's to be expected of paris. whether that's a positive or negative reflection of her character is up for very public, tabloid - centric debate. she sits up in her seat a little, eyes sparkling even more than they were upon recognition earlier in the evening. ❝ i can hook you up with tickets for our next stop. no charge, of course. they give me a couple to hand out as like . . . a pleasantry, ❞ and it's not like she has family to bring. or anyone else. both the people she'd invite are onstage with her already.

it hurt , to conceal his thoughts around her . yet he couldn't bring himself to set them free — not only due to sentiment of guilt , but precaution . a need to not bring pain into words . push it , through whatever means necessary , to keep it at bay . though it bloomed through gestures , actions , a simple gaze . and valerie was no fool .

christian surrenders , with a small sigh . " i'm sorry , " he drops the stack of parchment atop writing desk , to find his place in front & kneel before her sitting form . he brings his hands to squeeze valerie's , atop her lap .

they're part of the magic , hidden behind the scenes . christian came to meet adelaide through a friend of a friend , years after he moved back to montmartre . when he felt able to walk through those streets again . his fascination for film landed him work on said corner of entertainment , composing music for small french features . he writes , ceaselessly , more productive than he'd ever been for the past half of a decade . perhaps , to a point of exhaustion .

they've shared posh ballrooms & more unorthodox promenades , where they've spent time with filmmakers and fiends of the arts , great and small . and every time they've stuck to each other , moth to a flame , a sense of comfort . " oh , delia - " first he expresses his discomfort with a dance , words from a long unforgotten voice swaying on his brain ,

you're not what i expected ( ... ) darling , i think you better shut up & dance with me .

but before he can protest she pulls him on his feet , and they are dancing to the beat of vibrant music . " you wish to make me embarrassed , is that so ? an amateur & a perfectly capable ballerina , " he lets out a small laugh , & allows himself to place a hand on her hip , the other grabbing hers close to his heart . cheeks flushing slightly when her hand leaves his , momentarily , to brush back against unruly blond locks . " enjoying yourself , damoiselle ? "

“I—” Maren stops herself mid sentence. Was this a test? Was it a weird, long-winded way of telling Maren to shut up? She didn’t think so, but there was no way to be completely sure. “What if you give them to people who think the same way? Is it still giving them away in that case?”