tampered | log; ongoing

When; Tonight
Rating; PG (will edit if needed)
Characters; Abel Nightroad [

whofelltoearth], Esther Blanchett [

lefeufollet]
Summary; After a long several days filled with too many curses and too many unearthed memories, a night of dancing (some of) their worries away.
Log;

It took several tries before Esther was finally able to pin her hair in some semblance of a bun, random strands of hair escaping from the pins and framing her face. The dress she'd chosen had posed quite a challenge as well, the zipper completely refusing to work for at least a good five minutes before a particularly strong yank managed to pull it the rest of the way--and even then, the sea green cocktail dress left Esther feeling exposed, a small shiver running down her spine at the way the night air hit her arms and the small of her back. Esther bit her lower lip, leaning towards her mirror again, finger running gently against the shadows under her eyes; the lack of sleep over the past weeks seemed to be taking somewhat of a toll on her, physically.

Abel too, presumably.

A small sigh escaped Esther's lips--reddened slightly with the same lipstick Abel had played with on the day they'd exchanged bodies--before she stood, having enough forethought to grab a black shawl from her closet to wrap around her shoulders, before emerging from her room and walking to Abel's door. She rapped sharply on the door, cheeks already warming in anticipation and embarrassment. Mostly the former.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He was reluctant to move from the position, once Esther had settled her head lightly against his shoulder. He knew he needed to eventually, but her words, and her soft fingers against the thin skin around his ears, kept him seated for just a minute longer. He laughed suddenly, self-depreciating but honest, and wrapped an arm around the small of her back, preparing to drag both of them off of the bed.

"What makes you think I won't trip and fall without thinking of other things, Esther? I apologize you won't get your chance to have a night out without all of Rome's eyes peering at you, but I have suitable music somewhere. Nothing says I can't dance with you right here."

Esther started at the sound of his laughter, high and lofty and yet neither at all, not the contagious kind of laughter that most people used, and instead the type that made her stop and think. Enough so that when his arm wrapped around her back, Esther didn't stiffen whatsoever, and instead merely turned to face Abel and to consider his words, turning them over slowly in her mind.

"You don't fall all the time," she replied slowly, solemnly, the crease in her brow deepening. "Otherwise you wouldn't be there every time to help pull me back up."

She allowed her mood to brighten slightly at the mention of dancing, and with a slight twirl to her step, Esther quickly stood up and took a step away from the bed, hand still grasping onto Abel's and tugging lightly.

"Shall we dance, then, Father?"

He was about to open his mouth to object when Esther gently tugged him from the bed. He wanted to tell her that he did fall all the time, that far from pulling her back up, it was frequent that he was taking her down with him. Her face was bright, though, and her eyes happy for once in the past weeks, so much so that he could barely see the dark circles beneath them.

He didn't want to think of dark circles beneath eyes, for the moment. It brought up disturbing images in the mirror.

So Abel offered Esther another of his bell-toned laughs, standing from the bed carefully, trying not to knock them both over with his free hand wrapped around Esther's small back. He wondered if Esther noted there was no music playing. Maybe she didn't need any. His queue fell heavily over his shoulder as he leaned over, adjusting to the difference in Esther's heights. She was no Duchess of Kiev, or Lilith Sahl, or Caterina Sforza, but this was a pleasant thing. He had stood beside too many stately women in his life before. It was nice to feel more down-to-earth in his messy suit.

He blushed darkly at the thought, eyes opening wider. What was he doing likening sister Esther to a bunch of other women?

"Ah, Esther, there's no music playing, you know. Maybe I should...?"

She watched his expressions change with an air of amusement, from a coating of a smile to something deeper and almost bashful, it seemed, but what she enjoyed most of all was the way that his eyes rested on her, the way that he seemed to be paying attention to her and her alone--perhaps Esther was selfish when it came to Abel, she thought. But if he was telling the truth all those times, if she was truly helping him by smiling and by being with him, despite whatever humiliation he felt...

Or perhaps she was deluding herself like everyone else she knew seemed to be, in one way or another.

"It's up to you, Father; if you'd like music, then by all means," Esther laughed, trying to bring more of that sincerity back to his eyes, a true flippancy not weighed down by the City, or by his past, or by any woman, Lilith Sahl included. "But, really... who's the one blushing now, hmm?"

The blush got deeper when Esther pointed it out, pointed out how obvious he was being. Abel never liked blushing, it made him feel vulnerable in ways he wasn't used to. It made him feel awkward, that he was so tarnished and yet so completely inexperienced in some ways. He tore his head away from her, looking at the old record player he'd hidden away in his room, and Abel could feel the heat spreading to the tips of his ears.

The hand around her back loosened and he chuckled nervously, voice dropping out of its usual self-mocking falsetto.

"I'm not blushing, Esther. Just...let me go turn something on."

"I don't mind, you know," Esther spoke up, following along, eyes following the movement of the flush to his ears. "It's nice to see more color back in your face, and I think the red looks nice with your complexion."

What she didn't say was how his behavior... almost reminded Esther of Ion, somehow, although the boy had certainly been far less receptive to her attempts at conversation since she'd arrived in the City. Presumably thanks to the fact that she'd been accused of having shot him, and perhaps... perhaps a past version of her had. Esther wasn't really sure.

Her smile faltered for a moment, before she quickly brought it back, trying to push all unpleasant thoughts away--she couldn't let them overcome her now.

log; ongoing

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