tampered | log; ongoing

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.

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He'd been sitting on the edge of the bed when Esther knocked on the door, considering whether this was a good idea, running scenarios over in his head. He was worried he wouldn't be able to force a smile onto his face after his discussion of Lilith, as well as worried that he wouldn't be able to cheer Esther up. He never had been very good at being social, even after years of tutoring from William W. Wordsworth. Abel started at the noise of her knuckles hitting the door and opened it, hair still loose and unbrushed and shirt unbuttoned.

It was sad, he thought as he opened the door for her to let her into the dimly lit room, that it took a woman less time to dress than it took him. That had never been the way, when he was...young. When he had only to slide a plain white tunic on and glower everyone out of the way. That was two lifetimes away, though, it seemed. He blushed in apology and dug around the pockets of his pants for a black ribbon.

"I'm late," he said lamely, eyes warm and voice laced with almost too much apology.

Her eyes immediately fell to half-mast, the excitement which had been building up dampened by Abel's reaction--or lack thereof. Clearly, something had gotten in the way again, or perhaps Esther had simply let him alone for too long, allowed him too much time to ponder over his own thoughts, which she'd discovered as of late to be rather bleak on the whole. Her shoulders slumped for a moment, and for a while Esther pondered if perhaps she should cancel their date; what was the point, if Abel wasn't going to enjoy it as he promised?

The stubborn streak in her wouldn't let it go so easily, though, and as her brows furrowed, Esther stood on her toes and reached for Abel's cheek, pinching and tugging it with her cold fingers. "Don't you dare apologize," Esther huffed, crossing her arms under her chest as she took a step back. "You're not late, and it's not like I would've minded anyway."

She broke eye contact for a moment, peeking around his room, looking for any sign or indication of what it was that had disturbed him so, but couldn't come up with anything. Giving up, she turned back to him again, eying the movement of his hands in his pockets.

"What's wrong, Father?" she asked quietly, letting her arms fall to her sides.

Abel made a small, startled noise as Esther came in and pinched his cheek-- and pinched hard. Taking a small step back, he pulled his hands from his pockets, along with his black ribbon, and pressed the palm of the hand holding the ribbon against his cheek. The opposite hand moved to lay on top of Esther's hair, easily gathering the crown of her head into his hand, laughing softly when a small strand fell out of her bun.

His eyes moved to her face, the small pout on the lipsticked lips. He knew she hated lipstick, so why... Abel gave a small shake of his head and flipped the lightswitch on in the room, trying to get a better look at her. It was hard, to deal with Esther in an informal setting. Maybe he avoided it for that reason. It was just too hard. To balance their professional relationship, his (liked or not and convoluted either way) feelings for her, their history. His eyes finally rested on her face again, having trailed her up and down, warm and melancholy.

"Nothing much, miss Esther, just a conversation I had a bit ago that's been eating at me. But no fair moping on your night out, right? Your dress looks nice. The color, against your hair and skin..."

Esther made sure not to shy away as Abel's hand came to a rest on her head, her face only showing the barest hint of a flinch as a strand of hair fell in front of her face, to which her response was to blow it away with almost a sigh. If she'd been able to relax at all, however, the sudden light which flooded the room didn't allow her to do so for long, blood wildly rushing to her head as she watched Abel look over her dress--and, judging by his words, her hair and...

She shook her head vehemently, causing yet more hair to fall out of her bun, red locks against almost equally red cheeks. After taking a deep breath, she craned her neck and looked at Abel again, pulling her lower lip in for a moment.

"Don't flatter me like that, Father... it's just a dress, and can't do anything to make the girl wearing it more presentable," she replied, voice louder than necessary before her expression smoothed out once more. "You sure you're still up for dancing, Father? If there's anything I can help with..."

Abel ignored her question-- there was so much bringing him down lately, so much, and so much of it Esther hardly had the context to understand. Sharing his problems with her would be only cruel.

"You're blushing, Esther," he said, removing his hand from her head and moving it to press quickly against her bottom lip before threading it into his hair and pulling it back away and into a tail. He placed the ribbon in his mouth, moving the other hand to help make sure he got all of the fly-away strands, talking with the black fabric clutched lightly in his teeth. The silk tasted bad and he grimaced.

"It's cute. If you could find my shoes-- not the boots, the oxfords by the bed, it would help things along. I'm sure you're anxious to get out of the apartment..."

She blinked, rapidly, when she felt his finger brush her lip, raising her own hand afterward to where his had been just a moment before, tips feeling the slight smear of lipstick. The burning sensation came a few seconds later, Esther resorting to the only thing she knew how to do when flustered.

"F-Father! Really now..." Esther pouted, exhaling loudly before she walked over to his bed, crouching to pick up his shoes. "There's no need to flatter me, and you know that. It's embarrassing, honestly..."

Voice trailing off, she placed the pair of shoes in front of Abel gently, before slowly standing up and placing her hands against her cheeks in an attempt to cool them down. It shouldn't have been affecting her like that, she should've been able to keep her mind on the fact that there were things weighing on Abel's mind, but still.

"...and you never answered my question, either."

He pulled the ribbon out of his mouth and tied it behind his head, a heavy bow, before moving his fingers to work deftly at the buttons of his shirt, and then to his pale blue tie. His eyes lingered on Esther, heavy-lidded as he watched her walk across the room to bring his shoes to him. He cleared his throat when she came back, leaning to grab his shoe and try to slide it on, finally giving up and throwing himself onto the edge of the bed to slide them on and tie them.

His glasses slid down his nose and he reached a spare hand up to adjust them, smearing the tip of it with the remnants of the waxy lipstick on his fingertip.

"Esther, I don't mean to embarrass you. You just really are a very pretty girl. And as far as your question, I was only having a conversation with miss Lilith about unpleasant things. But that's not the right thing to talk about right now."

He bit his own lip, eyes flickering to his hands as they worked at his shoelaces.

It didn't take very long before Esther followed suit, not bothering to ask before she sat herself down next to Abel, eyes following the movement of his fingers as they tied his laces, giving her time to think about her phrasing and just how she was going to approach the issue. But, then she figured, why hesitate?

"We can't go dancing with you like this," Esther sighed, feeling her stomach tense at the thought of Lilith, at the thought of how Abel had already stayed in the hospital recently and yet things had already gone awry again. "You know holding things in isn't going to help matters at all, and I doubt that you'd want to spend more time in the hospital, Father, no matter how much Miss Lilith... means to you." The urge to ask questions was strong, but Esther held back for the moment--selfishness was something she seldom worked on, but she could try.

She glanced at Abel's shoulder for a moment, tempted to rest her head against it before thinking the better of it and leaning forward instead, allowing her to catch a glimpse of the red smeared along Abel's nose. Wetting the bad of her thumb with her tongue, Esther reached out to rub the color off, brow furrowed in concentration.

"I'm pretty sure my lipstick isn't meant for your nose, Father," she remarked.

His hand reached up as Esther pulled her own away, wrapped around her fingers and bringing it to rest on his thigh as his legs uncrossed, eyes not meeting her own question-filled blue ones. He hesitated, opening his mouth for a second and then closing it again, before deciding it better to answer Esther's questions.

"I was just told some things that brought up very bad memories for me. I'm worried I'm going to be horrible company for you, Esther, so if you'd rather stay in tonight, that's fine. But I'd like to spend time with you, regardless. I've been neglectful to you lately, even though I promised to be at your side."

Finally deciding to give in, Esther gently laid her head on Abel's shoulder, hand relaxing in his larger, warmer one, gaze unfocused and settling somewhere on the ground, not really seeing. Truth be told, she enjoyed spending time with Abel regardless of where or how it was done--most of the time, anyway--and if he wanted to stay in, she was loath to argue. In many respects, being needed was just as good as being loved, anyway.

Maybe even better.

It helped her feel more secure, at any rate.

"If you want to spend time with me, Father, it shouldn't be because you feel obligated to. But I do think that staying in... might be wise, lest you trip and fall while thinking of other things," Esther murmured, free hand tucking some strands of Abel's hair behind his ear, gaze softening.

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.

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