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SOCIAL
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silver leaves in the air
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of starseedlings
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Her feign of innocence doesn't fool him at all. She wears it different these days. A subtle narrowing of his eyes, and the hint of a smirk, are the only cues she receives towards the royal's unspoken response. He might enjoy setting things straight, if only for his own satisfaction.[break][break]
When she raises some speculation over his true intentions coming to this rendezvous, Remiel takes the moment she's given him to deliberate, briefly shifting his gaze away towards the bar TV behind the counter. She leans closer before he can continue, however, and he smiles at that before humming in thought.[break][break]
"Both, if you must know." He coyly responds, tapping the counter with a strum of his fingers. "I saw you in that meeting. Before I even realized it was you, I saw a woman who needed a drink... and some good company."[break][break]
He watches her, patiently and carefully, as she absorbs this information. There's a shift in her seat, and this prompts him to scan her body from head-to-toe once more. Only this time without hurry; a calm and unabashed observation of every physical cue, every curve, every bit of exposed skin, and, of course, the way her facade seems to melt little by little every time he meets her eyes with his.[break][break]
How naturally she's become a treasure he wishes to uncover and unlock tonight. But he's far too self-aware to think she isn't having a similar effect on him as well. Beneath his often indifferent exterior lies a man even he doesn't recognize anymore. A man with wants and needs developed in the heat of a lost romance, then buried under the passage of time and neglect.[break][break]
In truth, he's keenly aware of her own tragedy. But it plays a much bigger part in the initiation of this meeting than he cares to admit at this point. A part of him debated the morality of proceeding without talking about it first. About how he'd been there when it'd happened... how sorry he was that he couldn't have prevented it. Then again, he had to guess she was tired about talking about it.[break][break]
More than likely, she had wrestled these demons countless times already since Alexander's death. The same way he had wrestled his own over Isra's disappearance: for far too long; far too overdone. There was a point where the grieving lead to frustration. That frustration twisted itself inwardly like a rusted knife. It became self-hate; disgust. It made him hate himself.[break][break]
How pitiful to be stuck in a vicious cycle of trying to move on, after all, flinching away from the pain, then ignoring it before it inevitably rose up again. All he cared to do was smother this feeling; break free from its icy grip. Process it, or forget about it altogether.[break][break]
So far... Illeana's proving to be the ultimate distraction. Though he predicts she'll graduate to something much more potent than a simple 'distraction' tonight. Seeing her take his cherry almost makes him want to lean in and take it back. Instead, he chimes with a chuckle, reaches for his glass, and finishes the rest of his drink with a smooth sip before setting it back down.[break][break]
"I'm nothing if not a gentleman, Illeana," He responds, sliding his empty glass across the counter for the bartender to eventually take. His gaze flicks back to those full, now cherry-coloured, lips of hers. Then, shortly afterwards, her mischievous eyes. "But that can't be the only reason you asked me here this evening."[break]
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notes: —
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