tampered | LOG ; ongoing

LOG ; ongoing

When; Saturday afternoon, April 12th.
Rating; PG-13.
Characters; Naoto Fuyumine [

markedbyname]. Zell Dincht [

swallowmyseed].
Summary; Swing-cursed Zell invites Naoto over for dancing. And probably mockery.
Log;

As far as curses went, this definitely wasn't bad. Zell had been, so far, plagued by desires of the flesh, forced to share a bed with a stranger, and restricted to the confines to the tub when magically, blood had seeped out of every pore. And that was just for starters. Now, he was being followed by an invisible, excitable orchestra. But it could have been much worse.

It could have been the ticking.

Most days, there wasn't a single moment where Zell wasn't moving. That said, he was the very example of inhuman endurance. So dancing, twitching, and snapping for a few hours really hadn't bothered him much, especially considering how friggin' sweet the music was. A soundtrack to his everyday routine. Even taking a shit had been exciting, punctuated by foot-tapping and toilet seat boogie.

He knew he could dance. Being the beacon of sheer awesome that he was, he had an incredible sense of rhythm. He knew this! The fact that he'd been pretty much dragged into dancing classes in his youth (pre-Garden), courtesy of his mother, had only highlighted his inborn talent. Of course, this ego could've been the byproduct of a day filled with blaring horns and gin-soaked voices.

Ego or not, though, Zell was bound and determined to showcase his brilliance...and laugh at Naoto's clumsiness. Because surely, she wouldn't be able to keep up with the king of swing. At the sound of a knock at his door, Zell lowered the brim of his derby and strutted to the apartment entrance, snapping all the while, and threw the door open.

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If she were completely honest, she hadn't taken dance lessons, or even danced, in her life. The part of it that she remembered at least. But she'd been told she moved with a certain grace typical of a ballerina, and it had a tendency to show even when she fought. She had had to learn grace to be able to do all those acrobacies in battle. But dancing, however?

Well, it couldn't be that hard. Move your hips, do the shimmy, wasn't that what all songs said? She had no idea what had impulsed her to say yes--it had been a challenge? it had been a petition? she wanted to shut him up and show him she wasn't always the queen of brood? a mix of all the above? Sure, ever since she'd been in this place, she had experienced changes not only in herself but in the way she related to people. She'd learned to accept them, though she didn't want to half the time--there was always that underlying knowledge of what would wait for her at the end of her journey, and the hatred towards this imprisoning place; but she'd learned to mask those as well.

Now, Zell was strange. He was too insistent in some aspects, especially her trusting people, lighting up and such. Nill had learned to accept it, Naoto thought. Zell was just annoying.

So she'd dance for him, shut him up and then return to her apartment to...continue listening to the sad songs the City insisted on bestowing upon her. Good plan. A knock on Zell's door announcced her arrival to him, and she almost took a step back when he opened the door.

"What are you wearing?"

At her question, Zell looked down at himself. What was he wearing? He didn't remember changing at any point, but there he was. Black pin-striped suit with black shirt and white tie - funny, Zell didn't even know how to tie a tie. But after roughly a month or so in which he had been steeped in almost every curse the city threw at him, he'd learned to accept that certain things just happened to his body.

He struck a most dynamic pose, tipping his derby to the lady. Somehow, his hair was as springy as always. Just as his particular coiffure seemed to defy the laws of physics, so did it defy the laws of hat hair. He replaced the derby and there was a brief pause in the swing music reverberating throughout his apartment. The song switched.

"Uhh...looks like a suit. Whaddya think?" And before she could answer, "May I have this dance?"

Zell extended a hand toward her, dipping into something like a bow.

His suit looked...nice. But it didn't fit him. At his question, she returned her attention to his face, and stepped inside the apartment. "Not in the hallways, but you may, as promised," she said, passing by his side.

He jogged backwards to keep up with her, the beat still evident even in his jerky steps. She didn't answer his first question, but Zell had already forgotten it in his anticipation. Oh man. She was in for a surprise.

As soon as they reached the living room, the chorus swelled in some sort of crazy magic timing. Obviously a sign. And who was he to deny a sign? Before he could really think about it - she was going to be so pissed - he grabbed her by the waist and bent slightly at the waist, spinning her over his back.

Well whoa. She was lucky her reflexes were sharp, because anyone else would've screamed and fallen. Maybe. But not her--even though she was irritated--, she landed on her feet on his other side. "You could've given a fair warning," she snapped, and idly realised she could hear her own blues songs very little now.

"But where's the fun in that?!"

And then, it wasn't him, no it was the devil in him, some cursed part of him, but he winked at her. The wink was sly and practiced - as if he actually spent time going around winking at people. But he had no time to be horrified. The music was moving him again and again, without warning, he had swept her into his arms, gyrating and stepping to the 2/4 beat.

The wink had surprised her for a moment, but the minute he moved, she moved with him. Dancing was easy, regardless of what others might've said. It was like fighting without weapons or hurting anyone, like gripping someone without meaning to leave a bruise. Adrenaline started to rush through her, and then it was easy to let go, listen to his music, and move to the beat with him.

She was good, the perfect personification of a natural. He was fairly sure Naoto had never danced this style before, but already, she was finding the tempo. This annoyed him somewhat. Here he was, with technical knowledge - Lindy Swing, St. Louis Shag, Jitterbug - and here she was keeping up with him, in sync, as if she'd been his dancing partner forever. He'd been hoping for some blundering on her part.

The very fact that she was even dancing with him should have been amusement enough. Instead, he upped the stakes, swinging her up into his arms with a firm grip and, with all the ease of a man swinging a ragdoll, swung her in an arc around his body.

"You're good, but I'm better!"

She almost missed his observation, busy landing and carrying on her dance without a skip in her beat. A shimmy here, and there, and maybe the beginning of a grin, but she wasn't as daring as to take the lead. He was obviously the expert here, and that much she could respect.

"I know."

Obviously, he hadn't learned any of these things as a preteen grabbing sweaty hands with a nervous partner. Rather, it was instinct for him to toss Naoto around, to flail his limbs about. Curse instinct. This sort of dancing, all jerky energy and no grace, was the sort of dancing he related to best.

She conceded his point and immediately, he no longer felt any hostility toward her. He was the star here. And better yet, she was having fun and he could see it in that hint of a smile.

"You're really light, y'know! Mind if I try somethin'?" Something dangerous, something that could break your neck, something that I don't really know how to do but my brain is telling me that I do?

She was starting to realise that this swinging could wear a person out. Lucky she had a bit more resistance than that. "Go ahead," she answered, confident.

He threw her up and upside down, grasping her hips tightly. Little did he realize just exactly what she'd chosen to wear that day - a nice, flowy skirt that he wouldn't have given a second thought otherwise. But apparently, such a nice, flowy skirt was not intended to be worn by a woman turning somersaults in a man's arms. Her skirt fell back and Zell was treated to a full view of Naoto's panties.

First thought: REALLY?! Second: ...Really? Third: She's going to slap my head right off my neck. It was that last thought that prompted him to drop her then and there.

[ooc; Minute 3:00 (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=myJj0mNNe1Y)]

The sommersault wasn't hard to pull, but then she realised what her skirt was doing. And then he dropped her, and she thankfully dropped to her feet, almost falling, but not. "What- What the hell-?"

He rubbed the back of his head, bumping his hat off. Was she going to decapitate him? Zell was blushing a shade of crimson that had to be his very own invention. He could only guess how strange his facial tattoo looked against red.

"Uhhh...ummm.... S-sorry. Panties." He mumbled, as if that would explain everything.

She was blushing, yes, at least as much of a blush as she was capable of. Self-conscious, she tugges her skirt lower. "It happens." She'd probably flashed them to many people before in a fight, but they were all dead now. Zell was a different issue. "When you're...swinging, I mean."

Zell had already winced, awaiting a slap or a punch or whatever would have happened if he'd upskirted anyone at home. Yet no abuse seemed to be forthcoming. He opened his eyes a tad, but she wasn't angry. He relaxed - marginally - and tried to understand what had happened. It didn't compute.

"A-aren't you gonna...hit me or something?"

If he were anyone else, and this were a different situation, she'd have cut his fingers off. But it was the curse, the dancing, and her lack of foresight to wear shorts at fault here. "It's not like you lifted in on purpose." She paused, then lifted an eyebrow in amusement--he was good at amusing her at least. "Unless you want me to hit you."

[ooc; AIM? <3]

Yes, he was good at amusing her and he considered that one of his many talents. His shoulders eased at her brow-lift and he tried a half-cocked smile on for size.

"No way!"

He hadn't noticed, but during his awkward spell, the swing had died away. Instead of brass, there were guitars now, slow and earthy. It was just as loud as the swing had been, but considerably more sedate. He turned his head toward where he perceived the source of the noise to be.

"...Blues." Pause. "Still wanna dance?"

[ooc: Thinkin' The Black Keys for this, maybe.]

This music rang familiar. She was sure she'd heard something like it coming from Fuyumine's room once, but that could also be her imagination trying to construct memories she didn't have. Nevertheless, it was her type of music, and for some reason, her body was moving forward, stopping in front of him.

She grabbed one of his arms and settled it around her waist, then placed her hand in his free hand. "It seems like I do."

Well, that was forward. He allowed himself to be moved and switched around - she was in the driver's seat this time. Slow dancing had never been his forte. He was reminded of the SeeD graduation banquet; though he hadn't been quite as clumsy as Squall had been, he hadn't exactly pleased his partner. But then again, he hadn't been under the effect of a curse then. Just a lot of wine.

Zell pulled her close as their bodies would allow, swaying them along to the slow twang of the guitar. This was certainly no waltz.

His hand was warm on her back. The closeness made everything clearer, like she could feel every part of their bodies that touched--she'd never been this close to anyone on purpose, not for dancing, not for fighting, not anything.

The beginning was easy. Sway, move of her hips, knees bent lazily, a slow roll of her hips when the guitar hit a higher note.

He'd had no idea that he was capable of moving his hips like that. Nor did he realize that she could too. Was it just him or was his collar tight? Was this room just a little too hot? It'd been a few weeks since he'd been this close to a woman on purpose and it was the first time ever he'd been this close to Naoto. And that shouldn't have been such a big deal.

He swung her into a graceful spin before pulling her back again, rocking his hips against hers in tune to the beat. This was a bad idea and evidence of this would be showing up any minute.

By now she wasn't even thinking anymore, just dancing, feeling, observing with her sense of touch, listening to the music and letting the curse run its course--how much of this was the curse and how much was her?--turning when he spun her around, then falling back into his loose hold easily.

And it was the curse, she was sure, at fault for the way her left leg moved up, for rubbing the back of his calf with her booted heel, once, twice, three times.

It'd become too hard to differentiate curse from man; both were one at this point. His eyes were on hers, empty, really, save for the slight hunger that not even he knew. Well, yes, he knew it, but he was doing his best to ignore it, to be a gentleman. There was a reason why he didn't want to want her, but at this moment, with her heel running up his leg, he'd forgotten.

Grasping her leg, Zell sank her into a graceful dip as the song drew to a close. Erection? Check. But he didn't pull away immediately, instead watching her face and waiting for the inevitable self-conscious withdrawal.

She held his gaze as he dipped her low, her leg practically raised to his hip. A soft gasp slipped past her lips, and then another one when she was pulled back up. What am I doing? She held on only for a second or two more, while the song ended. It was enough time to realise that her breaths were coming out shallow and fast--exhaustion from dancing, it had to be that--and that he was pressed against her. And how.

Her eyes widened slightly, and she let go of his hand, pulling away quickly, but not brusquely. She was sure there was something to be said on occasions such as this one. It was just a physical reaction, it meant nothing. Right. So, avoiding the issue, and getting the hell out of there before she made it worse. "Well, then. Now you've proof that I can dance."

As soon as she let go, he straightened and turned his back to her, fussing about with the couch and organizing organized pillows. Panting. The bitch had been panting. It was over now and he was embarrassed, trying desperately to make himself look otherwise. If humiliation wasn't a libido killer, he wasn't sure what was. Later, he would self-examine as much as Zell was libel to (probably drink some and be very confused), but now his first concern was getting her out.

"Y-yeah, uh. You dance real good. But I have work in a little bit and I gotta get ready, so...." He wasn't that good of a liar, but he suspected Naoto would be too hasty to latch onto the excuse that she wouldn't notice.

"I'll be going now," she hastily finished for him. There was no need for further clarification, or even giving this situation any second thoughts. She had to leave, quick. And that was that.

Her feet carried her to the door, her hands opened it, her mouth uttered the "See you" and then she pulled the door shut closed behind her.

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LOG ; ongoing

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REMEMBER 3:00?

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WRAP IT UP!

WHO'RE YOU CALLING BITCH =O