Open Post

[formidable]

MUSELIST This a post where I'll RP anything with you! Got a scenario in mind? I'LL DO IT. If you wanna chat IDEAS.GIF, contact me at maiscribbles or my Discord (Maiscribbles#6780). Have at it! ➢ Cool Mood Music No. 1 ➤ Cool Mood Music No. 2

Comments

[pragnanz]

[ it's official. Iona has twined herself into Claude's natural rhythm.

he knows it, too— he finds himself scheduling her presence into his notebook in red, finds himself adjusting hours and meetings in favor of breakfasts, lunches, dinners with a time-displaced witch from another universe altogether. he knows how to identify how familiar she's become by the one-two skip of his heart when he turns the corner to a door that shouldn't be there, knows that she's made a permanent impression by the coffee he drinks outside of her company and the longing he feels for a better cup.

the deadbolt he'd kept around his ribs is loosening, day by day. it's not the alcohol that's speaking for him tonight, he knows. it's comfort.

he'd hate it, if not for the warmth sitting in the pit of his stomach. he wonders if he'll find something there, if he reaches down and rips his diaphragm open; morbid, but that's how tangible Iona has become.

mostly-empty wineglass on one hand, he tries not to let his amusement move from the slight quirk of his lips to his eyes. he fails. ]

It certainly says something about you. [ how unladylike of her!!! but then again, that's what he's always been drawn to, isn't it? ] As your doctor [ "your friend" ], I'm obliged to tell you that you should be drinking more water than you are.

[ spoilsport.

that said, he pours Iona another glass. ]

[infusion]

Aw, how kind of you. For the consultation and the extra wine of course.

[She takes it easy with this glass knowing that she's had a fair share today. When she brings the glass to her lips it's a slow and careful sip she takes instead of an enthusiastic swig. Iona sighs in contentment again, tucking in her legs so that her knees press against her chest. Instead of being on fire these days and ready to fight the world head-on, her energy seems to burn more carefully like glowing embers; strong, but steady and quietly intense. The witch is still herself of course, but she has toyed around with the thought that she's been taking life day by day, rather than sprinting through the weeks. It's been a good change of pace, a good habit even ever since she and Claude decided to be together.

Which is a little ironic considering almost everyone around them, including themselves, were certain it would be something bad for the both of them.

(Time is unkind, but she can't let that stop her, she won't let it stop her.)]

You know, today's visit is probably good timing for me. It got hectic at the cafe last weekend and I just kept thinking, "Wow, I can't wait to have quiet time with Claude." Which we both know is funny since my first few visits here ended up with the city on fire.

[pragnanz]

[ it’s a universally accepted conclusion by now, that this won’t help either of them. they’re caught in limbo, traveling between worlds that aren’t meant to be connected, sharing time and information that will never align. Claude, a pragmatist at his core, knows that this is a bad idea. this is how he’s hurt before: by loving someone who he knew would ultimately become absent.

(his personal motto isn’t “don’t get attached”— rather, it’s “don’t let others get attached to you.”)

but the holidays have rolled around, and the temptation of comfort and familiarity are apparent even for someone who would rather not deal with them. there are illuminations in streets, clock-powered window displays with awkward puppets playacting festive fantasies. even in the relative quiet of his apartment, he can still hear music drifting from somewhere a few blocks away.

he pushes Iona a plate of home-made cookies the landlady baked for him in the morning. she’d nudged him with an elbow, winked. ]

‘Tis the season. I can imagine you’d be flooded with guests, during this time of year— you’re due for a breather. [ a sip of his own wine. surprisingly considerate, maybe, until he appends: ] Though you’re welcome to start trouble if you’re so inclined. Inject the place with a bit of excitement.

[infusion]

[There's no way Iona can resist homemade sweets. She automatically takes a cookie and nibbles the top. She gives a nod of approval of its flavor before taking a big bite.]

Oh, it's been exciting some years. Maybe too exciting. I don't think I'll ever do a White Elephant gift exchange with a bunch of kids with powers ever again.

[Ah, it's one of those stories. But she just as easily jumps to another thread of the topic.]

I did host a winter dance at the cafe before! Only once though... Mmmmm.

[She eats the rest of her cookie as her fingers drum on the table. Iona's always been the type of person who, despite having a mountain of secrets to keep, was oddly easy to read.]

You know what? I'll totally host another dance party. It was well received last time I did it and I'm positive there were couples that resulted as a part of that.

[pragnanz]

[ "White Elephant." he's not quite sure what that entails, but he can hazard a guess— Iona's explained "Secret Santa" to him before, so it seems like a derivative of that.

he huffs over the rim of his wineglass, finishes the rest of his drink. alcohol and cookies is a strange combination, but then again: he and Iona are a strange combination. if the glove fits, etc. ]

Well, aren't dance parties usually set up for the express purpose of coupling? Laced fingers, breaths mingling, and all that.

[ provocative words, delivered with neutral ease. to punctuate, he waves a hand as if to shoo the implications away: it's all very routine, you know. they're in France, and amorous exchanges are synonymous with politics.

that said, he raises a brow. ]

Are you really so eager to get close to someone during the holidays?

[infusion]

[Iona raises her own brows at Claude's words over her glass of wine which is almost done. Then she answers drumming one set of fingers on the table.]

Well, that just got me thinking.

[The wine glass is set on the table and pushed aside as she leans forward looking expectantly at Claude.]

I'm thinking more along the lines about why I haven't gotten to dance with you yet, hm? That's the real question here.