Mai-Ly (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
formidable) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sweethymns2018-06-12 05:58 pm
formidable) wrote in sweethymns2018-06-12 05:58 pm
OPEN RP POST SIX
 MUSELIST This a post where I'll RP anything with you! Got a scenario in mind? I'LL DO IT. If you wanna chat IDEAS.GIF, contact me at ➢ Cool Mood Music No. 1 ➤ Cool Mood Music No. 2 |
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Which is to say— Claude is usually the one initiating contact in all forms. People don't usually try to touch him (he smells like corpses and embalming fluid and wears gloves that are two times too thick for the weather); it's only Gus that ruffles his hair or nudges his shoulder, so this sudden intimacy spurred on by a third party is. A lot.
He flinches, but not in a way that suggests that he's recoiling. In a way, it's strangely shy for him— he forms the beginnings of wait in the back of his throat— but it dies down, replaced with an edge of competitiveness.
Her warmth is reciprocated in equal measures, received with lips and just a taste of tongue. One hand massages the base of Iona's neck, and the other braces her against him along her hip.
When he pulls back, he chuckles against her chin. ]
You're quite conceited. [ wow???????? claude??????? but then again: ] But also, humble.
I've thought about more. [ jeez ]
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You're terrible! [Of course, she chases him with another kiss, quick and playful, never fully closing the distance, and never fully separating from him either.]
I'm prepared, you know? We've... It's been a long month.
[Sighing tiredly, but contentedly, Iona lays her head against his shoulder.]
... And I know it's going to be new and I might mess up again, but... I'll just spoil you every now and then. No one else is up to it, so you know I'm the best one for the job.
[She had hated the irrationality of how people treated Claude's existence, confronted it with a furious conviction as if to try and prove that people were worth love and care and worth acknowledging that they could knock over the box they were born in and find a happiness that was just for them.
She prays in her heart that she can be part of his.
Iona lifts her head up and playfully flicks some of his mussed hair with her fingers.]
But now you just need to spoil me back so we can be even every now and then. Does that sound fair?
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His nerves are fraying. It scares him to be happy, but he's lost his ability to run. ]
...A give-and-take? It sounds like any given Tuesday.
[ He knows that's not what she means, and he knows she means well. In a way, he does, too.
She doesn't want someone who accepts everything because it's there. If she did, she'd choose anyone but Claude. and he knows it. ]
Across time, and across dimensions. We've chosen a difficult partnership, haven't we.
[ He pulls Iona closer, until she's firmly nestled into his chest. ]
I'll have to make sure you don't forget me.
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[All the magic in the world could not compare to the comfort and warmth of being in someone's arms. As trite as it sounds, it just feels right for Iona. And she means what she says about making this work; they still have a physically impossible door as their bridge and now they have forged a powerful connection.
She won't put it that into words though, he'll just tease her again.
The witch indulges herself in his embrace before reaching up and playfully poking his forehead.]
Well, Dr. Aubert, the night beckons and unfortunately you technically still have work and cadavers vying for your attention. Want me to whip you up a care package before duty calls?
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[ It's obvious that he wants to spend a bit more time here and a bit less time opening up dead bodies to check how terribly everyone on his side of the door fucked up, but that's life. Hesitantly, he unfurls Iona out of his arms and back onto the lukewarm flooring of their rooftop; the sun is 70% beneath the horizon now, casting Paris in foreboding orange-blue.
The cogs in a nearby cathedral turn. Somewhere, a bell chimes: cacophonous and deep. ]
Something sweet, then. Chocolate.
[ When has he stopped hiding from Iona, again? He can't even remember. ]
...By the by. I thought you were going to say goodbye to me, today.
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"Goodbye?"
[Give her a second.]
Oh. Ohhhh.
[Her hair bounces as her head bobs back and forth as the realization comes to her and she puffs up her cheeks at him.]
I can't dump you yet! It's too early.
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I'll be expecting a polite retraction of your affections for me within the week. In writing. Thank you.
[ CLAUDE!!!!! ]
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[Iona puts her hands on her hips in an exaggerated manner.]
Before or after you show just what exactly you had in mind for me?
[Younger she may be, but Iona is... Bold. This is a woman who faces down customers from all dimensions, magical creatures, rowdy criminal syndicates, and yes, a self-loathing doctor.]
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The challenge is met, and he rises to it. ]
After.
So you'll always be left wanting.
[ A 'charming' smile. ]
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Right. Right, right!
[
She's fanning herself with one hand godHer words come out in a rush again.]I know walking you to your job isn't exactly an ideal "real" date, but I can at least do that much. Um. I'll be here tomorrow too. And then I should probably open up the cafe and let everyone else know what's up.
["Everyone" consisting of her close circle of Monts, Solomon, her grandmother, those strange psychic twins, and yes... That one guy...
(Dominique Vargas is going to have that, "I told you so," look towards this new duo for a week. Mostly at Claude, rip.)]
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[ Because, you know, he's usually the customer and she's usually the one cooking and cleaning after him. Hardly an even playing field, if you ask him.
(he's a stickler for things like this, sometimes.)
The faint flush doesn't go unnoticed, either. It makes him smile, and the expression actually reaches his eyes; a little twinkle, one that says that he is, in fact, smitten.
He starts gathering his things. ]
—Will you be telling everyone?
[ gggggggggod no ]
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I won't be announcing it over a loudspeaker if that makes you feel better? I'm direct, but not for everything.
[She's also strangely shy about some things.]
Knowing the people around us, it might not be hard to figure out on their own. So... Yeah. We'll be discretionary if that's what you'd like to call it.
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[ He repeats, rolling the word around on his tongue. Given his upbringing, he'd rather keep things under wraps unless absolutely necessary— it wouldn't do for anyone who harbors illwill against his family to take advantage of things that Claude holds dear. He doesn't have many of those things to begin with.
On the other hand... Iona doesn't have to deal with those politics. If she has the freedom to speak candidly about her situation, shouldn't she exercise those rights?
He stops and thinks about it with a measure of care that speaks to how much he's had to calculate his actions in the past. A beat or two of silence passes, before he passes his verdict. ]
I'll leave your side of things to you. It isn't so simple with me, you realize. [ A light half-breath, verging on a sigh. ] The person I'm most averse to will find out anyway, one way or another. I won't hold you responsible for his...
[ A grimace. ] ...prying.
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But they'll deal with that as it comes.]
Hey.
[Iona reaches out with her arms and hugs him from the back, pressing herself into him.]
As I said, it'll work out. But I promise I'll be careful too.
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Still, he'll be alert. It's his job to be. ]
Careful isn't your forte.
[ A quiet warning, as he looks over his shoulder and sighs. One hand draws up to bury itself in her hair, ruffling once, twice. ]
...I wouldn't worry overmuch. I don't expect things to be much different from before; you'll go charging forward, and I'll be pulling you back. That's how we've balanced things up until now, no?
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[She grins as Claude ruffles her hair.]
What if I'm the one pulling you instead?
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Spare yourself the trouble. I'm quite heavy.
[ In more ways than one. Then again, Iona has superhuman strength, doesn't she? He's doomed. ]
—Iona. [ He lifts his hand, and then crooks his index finger. ]
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[Iona lets go of Claude, letting her hands fall to her side as she looks up at him quizzically.]
What is it?
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Still, he leans in and recites, in reedy French: ]
Si je ne sais plus tout ce que j’ai vécu, c’est que tes yeux ne m’ont pas toujours vu.
[ Two lines of a poem he'd stumbled upon when he was back in Iona's world. He's no romantic (far too pragmatic for that, really), but this stuck with him.
("If I lose all inkling of everything that I’ve lived through until now,
It’s because I haven’t always been seen by you.")
One last ruffle of her hair, and Claude steps back. ]
...Well. It's back to work for me.
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But she understands not through the magical filter although that helps, but hears the words for what they truly are. The witch's heart beats and there's a weight that comes with it, bittersweet and precious and it aches because of its importance.
He's important, he's precious, and this new connection they have will be bittersweet to its very core.
Her hair is ruffled, breaking her out of her reverie and she shakes her head at Claude, smiling shyly again. Iona runs her hand through her hair and lets out a chuckle of disbelief.]
Right. Work!
After lines like that, kinda makes me wish that wasn't the case...
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He gathers his things. Reaches inside his pocket to find his work gloves, to wear the impartiality he always tugs on in front of everyone body but a select few. ]
Not to worry. I'll be making good on my threats in the near future.
[ Breezily, as if he's just telling her he'll be around to have a cup of coffee. ]
Until then, you'll have to live in suspense. You're fond of that, aren't you?
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Ha! That may be the case, but that just means I'll totally be ready.
[That's up for debate, but...!!]
You better kick work in the ass. One can only live in suspense for so long!