ext_245519 ([identity profile] i-themagician.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] tampered2008-10-29 12:03 pm

log; in progress

When; Thursday, October 30th, the night of the masquerade
Rating; PG
Characters; Lucy Saxon ([livejournal.com profile] inbetrayal) and Clow Reed ([livejournal.com profile] i_themagician).
Summary; He was the one who closed the door, yes, and then locked it - but it was understood that she could crack it whenever she wanted.
Log;

Dancing. A wonderful pastime. The best thing about it is that it gives you the opportunity to flirt with and impress people with whom you have absolutely no intention of getting involved - the addition of masks only makes it better, enabling you to do so under the pretense of anonymity. In the nineteenth century, masquerade balls were little more than an excellent excuse to go home with someone other than your spouse with the (dubiously) plausible deniability of not realizing who it was.

Clow doesn't have any desire to go home with anyone tonight, but he gets an odd bit of amusement out of making people think otherwise. It works - he doesn't even look like himself dressed in a white suit and with that feathery mask with the wing motif. It's hard to say how exactly he solved the problem of trying to wear spectacles and a mask at the same time, but there you go. He's being a bit of a wallflower at the moment, watching the dancers and the attendees as a whole and trying to pretend that he doesn't see that familliar figure across the dance floor.

[identity profile] inbetrayal.livejournal.com 2008-11-02 07:49 am (UTC)(link)
She closes her eyes for a moment as he touches her face, eyelids fluttering shut as she leans forward just a bit in response. Of course he does, and of course it won't change anything. He pulls away, and her eyes flicker open again, but she doesn't do anything to stop him - just watches as he walks away, standing still in the midst of a flurry of movement.

She could be happy - she has, but it would only be a halfway sort of joy at most. Bittersweet, and though she's hardly feeling any joy right now, there is the bitter part - a tightness in her throat, a prickle in the corners of her eyes. Wishes never do get granted in quite the way they're supposed to.