lured-into-wonderland

[lured-into-wonderland]

She’s disappointed. But not because he refuses to use their first names; Nunnally understands that’s part of the game they’re playing. Rather, it’s because he’s… She’s heard so much about him, but at the end of the day, he’s just another rich man among other rich men. Although… Didn’t she expect too much? What could he do to entertain her? She’s been expecting too much. She's just another rich girl woman among other rich women.

“Certainly, Mr. Rozanov.” – her voice is polite, but perhaps it hints at more than she’d like to admit. Oh, how she wishes she could meet someone unique. Someone who would make her heart flutter, someone who could truly pique her curiosity. Perhaps then Miss Ambly des Ayvalles would do something unexpected; something inappropriate…!

-- (She would; she will) --

But not today. Her gilded cage is solid. Her father made sure of that. And when she finally marries, the key to that cage will likely only change hands. Or perhaps she’ll simply trade one golden prison for another. But for now, she’s stuck. Stuck with this man. And she must find a way: with him, or out.

She can feel his gaze on her. Assessing? Scrutinizing? Or is there something else in his eyes? She’s too tired to care. She knows how their world works (she thinks, but she doesn't fully). She’s an asset, a treasure to buy and to trade. Just like the diamonds she is wearing. Just like him?

Her eyes narrow slightly. Others might imagine many reasons for it, but the truth is she’s annoyed. Almost insulted.

( “We don’t move within the same spaces.” ); he says. Is that meant as an insult? A suggestion that his spaces are somehow superior? That wherever he goes, she cannot follow? Perhaps. Perhaps not. But for now, he receives nothing more than a flicker of movement around her eyes. And perhaps a comment delivered in an overly sweet voice.

“But here we are together. Indeed, a pleasure.” – as if to say: our spaces may be less different than you think.

…and then, something finally catches her interest.

“Makes you wonder about what…?” – Nunnally asks; tilting her head in silent expectation. Perhaps he’ll finally say something interesting, something unscripted, something outside the polite performance they’re both so carefully playing.

She laughs. Now, he’s giving her the chance to say something...witty? And then disappear, just like the Cinderella he’s now suggesting she might (or should?) be.

“Midnight? Isn’t that too predictable, though?” – she tilts her head, amusement flickering in her eyes – “What’s next? A lost shoe and a royal search party?”

She laughs again, but now there’s a faint note beneath it. Something quieter.

“But midnight is just a number, isn’t it? I tend to disappear when things finally get too real.” – a pause; just long enough to make it feel intentional – “It keeps expectations manageable.”

“And you? Are you auditioning for Prince Charming?” – of course he isn’t – “Or just trying on the costume for the evening?” - which could be nice(r).

@unholiis

he's not impressed. he never truly is for those that found their home within high society all functioned the same way, wanted the same things, feared the same things. it was as if there was no such thing as originality, nothing to make one unique, all flocking together to make sure none of their wealth would fall into hands they thought were too poor to handle. it bores him. this staticity that reigned supreme within the many circles one as esteemed and affluent as him & his family roamed in. it's dreadful in a way that has him rolling his eyes, he'd never been one for ambitionless tradition. it's why he created this hidden empire of his, where gold and jewels ━━━ secrets and dreams all passed the revenue and he was the dealer sitting upon a throne supreme.

while simper upon visage is ever so welcoming, and glow within startling amber eyes is inviting there rests nothing genuine underneath it. he's long let go of her hand, sees no reason to hold on to it when feigned pleasantries have been completed. instead he allows lidded eyes to roam across her person, sees the shift across visage, the slight tension underneath it and it delights him. ever the one to thrive on the unrest within another, enjoying the notion that one might not like to be part of a conversation or even flaunt themselves among the many vultures that called this event their home. but she was bound to it as much as he was ( and there is no escape from the gilded cage ).

❝ how about we keep it to mr. rozanov for now ━━━ miss ayvalles is it not ? ❞ it's deliberate, the refusal to be called by his name by her. whether this was one of his many games or not. it took him a while before recalling her name though ━━━ but within these waters it was paramount you even remembered the cockroaches that begged to be noticed. all to show ... what ? something. anything. his mother would happily explain again, surrounded by her diamonds and pearls. with a raise of a brow does he continue, gaze shifting away from her, finding it more interesting to see what the other roaches were doing. ah, it was never easy to hold his attention, even more when it was evident that neither party wished to be near one another.

❝ my presence at an event depends on the type of party and the people that attend it. therefore i am not surprised that you and i have not stumbled upon each other sooner. we don't move within the same spaces. ❞ a sweet smile, honey dazed and poison touched. ❝ having said that, it's good to see you here i suppose. your father does like taking you along to these places. makes one wonder ━━━ ❞ blazing gold finds home upon her visage once more. ❝ no matter. this is a lovely party indeed. ❞ simply following the written script. ❝ are you planning to stay until its end or disappear before the bell strikes midnight ? ❞

[lured-into-wonderland]

MISTAKE.

It was a mistake.

A lady of her status alone at this hour; roaming across the now-almost-empty streets. An easy prey; one could conclude. But it wasn’t the first time she had done it. Skillful enough to avoid the danger coming from two directions: from the ones outside the society (or rather her class), or those that could still recognize her (imagine the scandal!). The black cloak covered her small figurine, but it wasn’t that she couldn’t be recognized.

But taking this risk paid off. The knowledge she gained; the truth she suspected, but didn’t want to believe in. Lady Nunnally abruptly stopped (an additional risk, she shouldn’t have taken), and curled her palms into fists. She blinked a few times; successfully trying to stop the tears pooling in her blue eyes. It didn’t matter. She didn’t care (or rather she would not care soon enough).

She shouldn’t be doing that. An abrupt move of her head and the hood fell down; showing the world her pretty young face, and the cascade of golden locks. The mistake was corrected soon enough; to avoid the confrontation with the watchman; to keep the illusion of safety. Taking a hiding place in the next alley. She needed to head home before anyone (her maid) was to realize that she had been gone.

She continued her walk; a second mistake today needed to be her last one. She was growing more cautious (but also more anxious). Someone was following her? How did she know? She didn’t. It was just a feeling… A silent warning of her subconscious. She looked around but saw nothing. Of course she was to see nothing…! There was no-one there. It was just her imagination. The stress she felt before, and the relief that came with seeing it with her very own eyes.

Her steps were light as they carried her towards safety. But the closer she got, the more distracted she felt. There was someone following her! Nunnally was sure of that (no, she was not!).

“I…I can see you…” – she said in sudden determination.

starter / @lured-into-wonderland

Garrett brushed his fingers over the window ledge, watching idly as townsfolk and Watchmen hustled about before nightfall. He hadn't yet decided on his plans for the evening; No pressing contracts or commissions to turn in as of then and he hadn't heard from Basso in over a week - he was, to put it bluntly, bored of tinkering with the gears endlessly clinking and grinding together within the clocktower. The cure for anything was a solid spree, swooping through the shadows with sticky fingers and a backjack as if he owned the very night.

The city was his playground, and play he certainly did.

Eagle-eyed, a shine caught his attention; Pretty blue jewels set in pale gold, twinkling in the lamplight. Straining a touch further, concentration begetting the dull glow of his Focus, he discerned they were of decent craftsmanship and perhaps worth the effort of stealing. Blonde hair spooled over the shoulders of the woman the earrings belonged to complimenting them with contrast. He could not see her face as yet nor had he quite been able to tell if she'd been accompanied from so far away and on so dark a night. He weighed the pros and cons of an attempt at swiping them, deciding he'd ultimately rather try than sit still waiting for Jenivere any longer - and made his way down to the streets below.

Catching up to her proved easy enough, merely a matter of maneuvering through shadows of stacked crates and barrels, alleyways, even the odd unsuspecting Watchman. Nothing he hadn't done before, nothing he wouldn't be able to do again. Her dress dragged lightly across the cobblestones, heels clicking faintly but loud enough to cover his already hardly noticable steps. He slunk slowly behind in her shadow, hiding within others to avoid detection from any who happened to pass by; Closer and closer still he got, fingertips arched and poised to flutter by each shell of the woman's ears, while easing them free of piercing holes.

But a Watchman rounded the corner, armed with a crossbow and a deep-shod grimace. Garrett ducked into a side alley and made use of the warm steampipe jutting out of the wall, taking advantage of the lack of feeling in his hands to climb it to the rooftops.

A stubborn man, he wasn't going to simply give in; Not until he got what he wanted and had earrings to sell.

[lured-into-wonderland]

Love's about finding the one person who makes your heart complete. Who makes you a better person than you ever dreamed you could be. Its about looking in the eyes of your wife and knowing all the way to your bones that she's simply the best person you've ever known. ― Julia Quinn, The Viscount Who Loved Me.

[lured-into-wonderland]

WHY!

“Why do you call yourself like that?” – the exclamation had left her lips before she was able to filter it. Yes, w h y. Even if others called him like that, there was no reason, in her mind, to repeat it. Or perhaps he was using it as an armour? As a shield like she was sometimes doing herself (though still hating the way she had been called?).

While she called one of them a ‘father’, and while she was treated as one of them, Nunnally was painfully aware things were not that simple. And no-one ever wanted to explain everything to her. Was she really a daughter of the man she called her father? If so, who her mother was? And if not, if she was something (someone) else why was she treated in a way she had been?

She looked at him. Her blue eyes clearly showing lack of confidence and some confusion. Till. That was his name. She could see redness on his cheek. Did she fluster him? Or was it more like a bruise? Should she pretend she didn't notice it? Or should she say something? No!; better to remain silent. She couldn’t even imagine how it must have felt to be him. So, her words would appear fake; Nunnally thought.

“You must be very talented.” – she was, indeed, impressed – “I…I can play piano. I am told I am pretty good at it…”

“I mean probably not as good as you… I also play a violin, but like…it’s more difficult than a piano…” – why would he even bother to be interested in whatever nonsense she had to say?

“I…I apologize…” – she almost stuttered; hoping that neither her father nor anyone that could report to him saw how little confidence she had speaking to this young man. Nunnally knew what was expected from her, and knew that she often did not deliver. And it wasn’t that her father took the failure gently.

His outburst wiped off the little confidence that was still with her.

“I…I don’t understand… W-what do you mean…”

“I…I didn’t mean to insult you…” – she did see his clenched fists; and his eyes – full of anger – locked on her – “I…I…” – was it the remark about the party; indeed, giving it another thought it couldn’t be a lovely party for him.

“I am sorry… I wasn’t thinking what I was saying… I didn’t know what to say.” – Nunnally sighed deeply – “Would you prefer me to leave?” – she, somehow, realized that as much as she wasn’t allowed not to come here, then probably he wasn’t allowed to finish the conversation first with one of the guests.

“I am Nunnally…” – again a foolish remark. She regretted she approached him.

He had always hated these parties, and unfortunately, they were becoming more and more frequent in his daily life as Alien Stage approached. His master wouldn’t stop dragging him around like a dog on a leash. His outfit felt tight and uncomfortable, but Till had no choice as he sang to entertain those disgusting aliens and their pet humans. His musical genius was widely praised and adored by the public unlike his personality, which was divisive. But that was part of the marketing, wasn’t it?

Maybe, toward the end, Till had acted a bit provocative, earning mixed reactions from the audience—applause and whispers. He merely responded with a proud smirk.

That’s probably why, after his performance, he was dragged into an isolated room by his master, who had put on a polite act in front of his peers only to be violent with his pet human in private—slamming him against a wall, then lifting him by the throat. He was left with a bruise on his cheek and a threat whispered into his ear that made his stomach turn.

At least now he seemed a bit calmer as he returned to the crowd, avoiding the gaze of those creatures, even if he attracted their attention anyway. The difference was that now they’d put his collar back on and he hated it. His teal eyes suddenly lifted toward the person who had spoken to him, his piercing gaze narrowing slightly in suspicion. Till was prepared to ignore her—he’d heard it all before—but her mention of his talent held his attention a little longer. He shrugged. Forgive him, he would never behave the way one should at a social event. Even so, his cheeks flushed faintly.

“Yeah, I’m a prodigy.”

He wasn’t bragging, just stating the truth. It was a rare gift that brought envy and exploitation, which made it more of a curse to him. Now that he’d replied, he could very well leave—who cared about the rules anyway? And yet… something about her unsettled him, though he couldn’t quite place what. For now, she didn’t seem mean, and she had mentioned what he loved most. So why not?

“I mostly play guitar,” he admitted under his breath. “But I can also play piano, flute, violin, xylophone.”

He was trying to do the bare minimum to be polite, but it was already too much effort—his whole body tense, on edge. Lovely party. Lovely party?

“I’m not interested,” he tried to say, fists clenched, eyes locked on... the strange alien? “And I’m not for sale. What do you want?”

[lured-into-wonderland]

He was just another one. A new face sent here to (protect) babysit her. Why him? That was a question Nunnally stopped asking a long time ago, as she had never received the reply she’d find satisfactory. As long as he didn’t complain too much, wasn’t prying too much, and didn’t smoke too much, they’d be fine.

“Some.” – she replied slightly absent-mindedly – “Already bored?” – Nunnally asked in a slightly uninterested voice. It was one of these days: she was bored herself, and all these foolish activities simply allowed her to forget about things she didn’t want to think about.

“But we’ll not be here much longer.” – she smiled; tossing a dress to him; and then one more and one more. Each of them cost probably more than some families earned in a month time – “I think I’ll try these on and then I am ready to leave…”

“Or do you think I should take the green one as well? Though they tell bright greens are not for cold blonds like myself…” – getting a fashion advice from this man was an interesting idea. Would he say anything? She might get all three after all; it was her father’s credit card so why should she even bother?

“I don’t eat…much…” - she added.

“How would otherwise I look…that slim?”

“A coffee is a great idea though. You’ll learn I drink a lot of it. Though surely we can have some lunch, when we’re done here. What food do you like?” – Nunnally asked looking through the rag of dresses – “And no worries I am not easy to be neglected.”

“Done.” – she stated – “We can go to a changing room.”

Why did he always get stuck with the most annoying jobs? He wasn't some grunt; he was the damn treasurer — an interrogator, the dog sent to plunge intimidation into clients' hearts… but there he was feeling like he had to babysit. Maybe that was too harsh, but there had been too many times his boss had given him such irritating duties.

It was supposed to be a favor his boss owed, and that was the only reason he agreed to it all. Behaving like a stranger's bodyguard for bit wasn't the worst job he's had. At least it was only for a short time, and on the bright-side, he didn't have to deal with the few people he was always pissed off at in his own family. As long as she didn't complain about how much he smoked, then it'd be okay.

"How much more is there?" Kalego had asked with a bit of a sigh. He was starting to think whatever errands and such she needed to do would've been fine if he wasn't there. All he wanted to do was go home and play his piano… or drown himself in whisky — either sounded delightful.

Honestly, he didn't blame her. None of his temporary duties were her fault at all. He felt some kind of pity because it must've been aggravating to be in the middle of criminal affairs. Kalego had seen too much of it and had a couple of acquaintances dragged into all of it because of him. A shame, really.

"Just don't forget to eat something so they don't think I've neglected you."

@lured-into-wonderland

[lured-into-wonderland]

Her eyebrows formed a straight line. For a mere second. Why were men often so predictable? Almost boring. Why did they always insist to pay? As if only their pride mattered. And what about hers?

For another mere moment, Nunnally wanted to explain the situation, and leave. But something again stopped her. After all, she couldn’t know what he had been told about “her”. Perhaps that she would expect that? Nunnally knew a lot of women in her social circle that would simply feel insulted if he didn’t refuse. So, perhaps she should just accept the social norms, and not be irritated by his behaviour? She would have opted for iced espresso, but wouldn’t that then send the message that she wanted to leave?

Again why did she care?

“Do you serve cold brew coffee?” – she asked, and without waiting for the confirmation Nunnally added – “I’ll have it then, and if not I’ll go for iced Americano.” – she now turned her attention back to Zhora – “Thank you.” – she hesitated – “I…”

“I apologize I am late…” – she didn’t add any more explanation, as nothing smart came to her mind. Surely, she could tell she had lost his phone number, but seriously that would come up at the end of their “date” if they at all decide to meet again (which she doubted?). Obviously, it must have been some sort of a blind date. He didn’t seem to know anything about her (his date?), and probably he’d simply get mad when he was to find out she was pretending?

Or perhaps he’s actually be flattered?

Nunnally didn’t think she understood men. Or most of them anyway. Dealing with a very specific kind of them, she believed she knew how to push their buttons, but otherwise? She had not dated for a longer while.

“So…” – she started slowly as they walked to their table – “What do you do on the blind date now? I have not done it for a while…since High School to be exact…” – not entirely truth, but not an absolute lie either – “Should we now ask all these polite questions about hobbies and what we are looking for in the relationship?” – there was a light irony in her voice – “Or rather the weird ones are fashionable now?”

“What is the weirdest combination of food you like?”

She laughed.

“I don’t attempt to be off-putting…” – she added, though she probably were – “Though I probably am.” – she tilted her head – “You’re handsome…and patient. It’s difficult to imagine that you…”

“…that you’re single.”

rather than something to drink, what Zhora TRULY wanted was an explanation.

she held an UNUSUAL confidence easily throughout what most would have considered uncomfortable. was she honestly so unashamed for what she'd done? she hadn’t made a significant effort to smooth things over or rush to explain herself either. it was as if she held no remorse, like she knew she would still win at her game regardless of what happened. that made Zhora curious to find out just what game it was she was playing & how he could WIN instead.

physically, she was a PERFECT match to what was described to him, but where exactly was that attitude hiding?

the one who went though the trouble to connect them painted a very different picture of who she was—gentle, sweet, perhaps even FRAGILE. 'be gentle with her,' they warned. 'don’t make her cry.'

clearly, they mistook her character. " you've convinced me to stay now. I can't wait to see more of this personality of yours. "

regardless of what she was up to he wouldn't CRUMBLE over paying for another drink. or a rather unfortunate first impression. If this all turned back south, he still wouldn’t lose anything he couldn't obtain again without issue. so he straightened his posture, shrugged off the tension tightening his shoulders, and turned towards the counter.

" just order what you want. I'm paying. I insist. " his decision was made less out of curtesy & more about PRIDE. he couldn't allow her, the staff behind the counter, or the handful of customers nearby to learn how much the entire interaction dug so DEEPLY under his skin.

he could brush it all off too. " I'll have an iced americano, please. "

[lured-into-wonderland]

"I'm just resting my eyes…I'm definitely not falling…asleep…" for Kio!

All Kio can do in response to that is huff. She's been leaning most her weight on him this entire walk from the boutique, then to the food court and now back to the parking lot where they left the car. He shouldn't have listened to her about taking the scenic route and walking instead of calling a valet for the car.

Kio decides he'll argue with her more now to avoid things like these. Though he can admit it'll be more because he likes how rosy she gets over his dumb teasing. She packs a punch herself. Spitfire, really.

Nunnally's head is bopping under its own sleepy weight. Hair covering those eyes that he knows are barely fighting away her post shop drowsies. Can you imagine having post shop drowsies? He didn't think it was a thing. Naps are common but to immediately start yawning after you hit the last shop on the list is so funny to him.

He clicks his tongue, “ Tut tut tut Nuns.  Of course. Just resting. Uh huh. ” He wraps an arm around her waist, the free one -- the only free one --to pull her more securely into him so he can walk them both to the car. It's close enough and thank goodness he works his core. “ Where would you be without my strong self hm? ” Yes, he's talking to himself. She's half asleep as is. The hand with bags clicks the button on the car keys.

The car is reached. He knocks his shoe against the door sensor, hooray for rich people cars, and not so gently tosses the bags into the backseat. “ Now for you. ” Still holding her, Kio pulls the passenger door open and carefully guides her in. That done he stands, stretches and surveys the space. Nods to the other bodyguards that litter the place, so much for trust. And stalks his way to the drivers side. All in all a successful day. Even with the sleeping beauty.

[lured-into-wonderland]

Nunnally could sense how uncomfortable Hibiya felt. But she wasn’t sure what was the reason of that. Was it her? Or him?

The princess didn’t care, though. By this morning, she had already mourned her foolish imagination that there was something (more) between them. Nunnally was well aware there were already rumours going on about yesterday, and – if anything – she didn’t want to add into them. At least in a way that would have been the confirmation of what had happened yesterday.

Perhaps they should talk about something? Should she start their conversation so that they could appear more relaxed?; she was asking herself as she was being served a glass of freshly squeezed grapefruit juice. Something she liked for her breakfast almost every morning.

But she soon had decided it was time for Hibiya’s move.

( “Do you wish to talk about yesterday?” ); he asked making her hand - holding a fork - stopped midway to her mouth. She looked at him; uncertain why he asked this question? To provoke her? Didn’t they clarify everything already? Her hand moved a bit upwards, but then the princess put the fork aside and her blue eyes fixed on his face. As if she was trying to decide the very hidden purpose of this question. Was he testing her again?

“I though we did clarify everything yesterday.” – she finally said. Slowly as if she wasn’t certain what she was going to say – “I’ve imagine ‘tomorrow’ was closer to ‘never’ than actually our very first breakfast.. after the event.” – indeed, that was how Nunnally had understood his words.

“But...yes please.” – she added after a pause – “I would like to talk about yesterday.”

“Here or should we wait until after our breakfast and have our drinks in the garden instead?” 

Hibiya closed the door his room before letting out a heavy sigh that seemed to drag on. He was frustrated with himself for deciding to be so open with her about his work, thinking about how he contradicted her, if there was another way he could have done it for next time. The whole thing was inevitable though, that he was sure of for telling his guard down so much. By the time morning came, he knew all there was to do was accept what happened and do better for next time. But, finding little mistakes on his side, he would need Nunnally's help with that.

He had anticipated her joining, never wanting to drag on a problem for too long. If she hadn't, Hibiya would make sure to finish eating in time to go find her before starting his work for the day. "Not at all." The tone Nunnally decided to bring in with her however, to put it kindly, was outlandish.

He stares at his plate for a time, trying to control his building agitation, pushing the tension away from his features so as to not be on display so openly. They left things unfinished last night, there was not an inch of him that believed this poorly crafted facade. What the fuck what her goal here? To purposely upset him? To go so far to the extreme that he'd have no choice but to address it, as if he were cowardly enough to not do so otherwise? To act as if she's perfectly fine so when he inevitably blows up, it makes him look all the worse, right? As if having to practically chase after her last night wasn't a bad enough image.

Hibiya had to push his foot into the floor to stop it from wanting to bounce, meeting her with an icy stare. "Do you wish to talk about yesterday?" Predictably, his mind was too busy elsewhere to think about controlling his tone. He knew the answer, but gave her the benefit of the doubt, as if it was deserved after this stunt.

[lured-into-wonderland]

There was something reassuring in the way Lukan talked about his ideas of a relationship. As far as Nunnally was concerned, she accepted the fact that men had affairs and mistresses. But if she was to rebel, if she was to follow her heart, and choose her husband despite her father's clear expectations, it would destroy her, if she ended up in the relationship she never wanted. Or rather dreaded during her sleepless nights in her expensive bedroom. To go against her father and end up in the same place as if she didn't?

But why these thoughts in relation to Lukan? Why did she think they could be a couple? Of course, she knew and - of course - she didn’t want to admit that.

“I am happy you feel like that…” – a remark slipped her lips, but – unlike usual – she didn’t mind it – “I think your friend’s wife must be a very understanding woman. I…I have a bad character they say…” – weak; spoiled; rebellious. Various people had always seen various flaws in her. Not that now it mattered too much to her. Probably less than most would consider.

“I guess…I guess I do.” – a pause; and then before continuing Nunnally took two sips of her drink – “But it’s easy to do when everyone around you scrutinize you all the time.” – she shook her head in a gentle resignation – “I’ve always have a role to play…”

“Please, don’t get me wrong… But this is just the way life is there… There is very little honesty in the family like mine. My father… Well, politics is a game… My grandmother…it’s all about appearances…I…I’ve got used to it, but sometimes I wish I could escape it…” – Nunnally fell silent. She shouldn’t be speaking so openly with him.

“But I am like a rare bird. That needs to be kept in cage as otherwise…otherwise…it wouldn’t survive the winter…” – a proof of her weakness. She stared at her hands nicely put on her lap. She was always graceful. Always elegant. As if nothing more mattered in this world. Nunnally shook her head – “But it’s a waste of this beautiful…meeting to talk these things over…”

“Your patient…” – yes, she could see that. She could see she was bringing a danger to his reputation. And he had worked so hard to be in a place, where he was right now. It seemed so unfair. So selfish.

“That…that could easily change…” – she finally said slowly – “And it wouldn't be too surprising anyway… I…I never could stand a therapy…” – since her mother died and they had forced her to meet an excessive number of people who perhaps wanted to help, but didn’t understand…

“Well…anyway I am mostly coming to have an excuse to meet you…” – a bold move; a risky one, but how long can she pretend it was otherwise?

“You’re right about that. And he did, in the past - they struggled a lot, and he had to face the consequences of his actions. Not everyone can handle having a husband like him, honestly. If the roles were reversed, and my spouse acted like he does… I don’t think I could accept it. Personally, between us, I don’t like that he act that way, but it’s not my place to make him stop.”

He smiled at her, both amused and tired. “...Not that I didn’t try, believe me. I’ll have to be satisfied with the fact he’d at least never do anything with someone else but his wife. He just likes to compliment women too much for my taste. And that’s despite the fact he calmed down, compared to before.”

Lukan nodded, agreeing with her.

���Really, I feel the same. I would get angry and jealous, no matter how sure of the other’s feelings I am. I think I wouldn’t be able to help it.”

There was a small chuckle, a little embarrassed.

“One may think as a therapist, I can rationalize and stay calm about things like that, but… That’s not the case.”

He didn’t really expect her to answer the question, but watched with patient, gentle eyes as she looked for words to do so.

And shook his head.

“You’re not weak. It’s just human to want all this. He’s your family, and… No matter what happens, it’s a strong bond. And wanting to make the only family you have, proud, it’s very natural.”

On a less therapist way, he added : “If you think realizing my dream made me stop wanting to make my family happy and proud, you’d be mistaken. I simply wish there was a way to make all of us happy, but sometimes it’s just not possible.  And honestly… I was only able to thanks to my friend’s help and support.”

He hesitated for a second before speaking again. “You sound like… You judge yourself harshly. It’s not as simple as doing the right or wrong thing. You can do something good, and yet it may hurt people. There’s no such thing as perfection in human’s actions.”

Nunnally’s apologies made him soften and gently shake his head. “It is alright, really. I didn’t mean to sound abrupt either. But to be fair, it is quite the unusual situation for me as well. As much as I want to help you, it is… Troubling ? You are my patient in name, but also not really. It’s complicated to figure out boundaries and so.”

Curiosity sipped in his gaze as Lukan stared at her, mixing with worry.

“A hard day ? If you need anything, you can always ask. And of course I won’t pry, but. Surely you know you can speak to me if you wish.”

A smile showed up, between playful and affectionate.

“I promise I can turn off the therapy-mode even if you want. Probably.”

[lured-into-wonderland]

No, Nunnally didn’t, and as long as she could understand the social clues, the visit wasn’t going to happen. Truth to be told, Nunnally couldn’t understand how Vivian could survive in a place like that! It seemed it was deprived of any reasonable intimacy, not to mention those little things that made life comfortable. The large bathroom. Comfortable walk in closet. And a reasonable size of bedroom and study. Not to mention a chauffeur or a maid, but, of course, Nunnally was aware that these were the privileges of the selected few.

She still nodded: --

“Of course. I am sure we will do it one day.” – she only hoped that 'one day' didn’t sound like ‘never’. Nunnally narrowed her eyes listening to Vivian’s reasoning. While she couldn’t simply disagree with her, she had that strong feeling, they were talking about different things.

“Are men commonly told they’re having too many shoes…? Or that they shouldn’t be getting another hat?” – while, indeed, they didn’t, Nunnally was also partially aware she was still subjecting herself to social pressures – “Or that they’re eating too much? Or spending too much moment for a matter of fact?”

Well, but perhaps that wasn’t even an issue in Vivian’s world. Nunnally suddenly wondered how many pair of shoes Vivian had. She wasn’t sure how many she, herself, had. If anything, indeed, shoes were something she would get to cheer herself up. Oh well, she needed to be careful. Was there a place for her when she was allowed to say what she really thought? Unlikely The disadvantage of being HER.

“In person. I always try on what I intend to buy and the attendant needs to take measures to adjust…” – she started to realized she had been hardly ever buying clothes off rack. Unless on a whimsy – “In person.”

“It’s just the way I prefer…”

    Ah... she was awfully persistent, wasn't she? Still, Vivian manages to flash a resigned smile her way, for if nothing else, she couldn't exactly argue her case... not when Nunnally was that insistent about it, anyways.

    "Okay, fine. I'll make you one... assuming, that is, you ever feel like visiting GEC," she concedes. Of course, by 'GEC', Vivian was referring to the name given to the student residence building she was currently staying at, but considering Nunnally had once walked past it while she was showing her around Vancouver, she figures she didn't need any further elaboration.

    "And not really. Like, the way I see it, 'everything in moderation' just means overindulgence can be bad similarly to how consuming too much alcohol can lead to kidney failure, so it never really occurred to me it's a phrase that apparently targets women more," she then admits. Honestly enough, Vivian had never thought of it as a way to keep 'women in line' and while it's true Nunnally could be looking too deeply into things, she didn't necessarily think her way of thinking was wrong. They simply had a different outlook on things.

    "Occasionally, yeah! Not as often as I would like, mind you, but if there is anime merch I really want, I'd bring myself to fork over some of my hard earned moola," Vivian goes on to nod upon registering her next random query. "What about you, Nunzee? Do you tend to do your shopping online or in person?"

[lured-into-wonderland]

🪽promo post for a Levi Ackerman RP blog!

Looking forward to writing with you on @soldiersvow !!!

links found in pinned post!

written by Vera, on tumblr rp since 2015

promo graphic by @sosordid ♥️

[lured-into-wonderland]

Was he that drunk? Or was it his intention to humiliate her? Or perhaps it was a discussion what their marriage would look like? Or just another test for her to pass?

No matter what that was, it was unnecessary. Nunnally would rather he had not spoken at all. It was a wrong place and a wrong time. But it was done.

Ichiro had already told her more than she wanted to hear from him; not that she wasn’t hinted about that very escort before. But gossips were gossips, and she could consider them simply rumours spread around (her) to make her uncomfortable by those less “fortunate” than her (at least in their own eyes). Hearing that from him was more of a problem that she needed to face. And Ichiro should have known that.

But not today. She was not to face it today.

So, it was only her slightly furrowed brows that could perhaps hinted Ichiro that his confession was unwelcomed.

“Oh well… What a disappointment…” – she said; her voice perhaps overly sweet – “And I here expected you’d simply kiss me, and tell I was the last woman you kissed.”

Nunnally leaned back into her seat and took a sip of her drink. She felt a winner in this little game. Though she also needed to give him the story of her first kiss. Or not?

“Would you believe if I said I was waiting for you to be my first kiss?” – no, he was not that drunk. Nunnally shrugged slightly and continued.

“Kindergarten. He was insisting he’d marry me one day. I don’t even remember f I even liked him. Kissed me one day. I punched him back. Got suspended.” – she shrugged again – “Dad told I did right.”

“Were you expecting a more romantic story?”

🗡          — “ pfft. ” maybe it was the alcohol , but he actually chuckled. why did she think she suddenly had the upper hand here ? was she taking advantage of the fact he was drunk ? that was playing dirty , though he would do the same so he had to respect it.

ichiro took another sip of his drink before setting it aside. he mirrored her actions , just as he intended — finding it amusing by the way he could only imagine they looked. like two close friends about to begin gossiping. the only issue is , once he allowed her statement to truly swirl around in his mind for a moment it forced him to remember something he didn't really care to. so he withdrew , lifting his chin from the support of his palms and leaned back in his seat.

he wondered for a moment , if he should keep that information close to his chest. it's not like it wasn't already an open secret , nun likely knew that already. but perhaps that's why she wanted to hear it from him. in an effort to conceal any weakness on the matter , he complied. “ what's to tell ? she was an escort i knew for many years. ichiro shrugged , in an effort to appear nonchalant. “ she's married to some asshole now. ” the comment hinted to his discontent on the matter. with regret , he knew should have kept his mouth shut. the yakuza was quick to redirect as he picked up his glass for another sip. “ your turn. ”

[lured-into-wonderland]

Manny cups cheeks and gives her all the kisses across her face. "One here, one there, one everywhere for my dearest friend!"

“Manny w-what are you doing…!” – she's not even sure if she’s more surprised by his unexpectedly good mood or by the rain of kisses on her face. But no matter what it is, Nunnally is happy about it. With so much they have been going through recently, they do deserve some childish joy, some giggles, some affection. Happiness.

And while Nunnally has exclaimed – what are you doing! – by no means she means ‘stop’. She has no words to explain it to him: that she has never been treated with so much care. With her upbringing being strict and cold, aiming to make her a flawless lady, it had no room for being goofy.

But she isn't to think about it now; nor tell Manny anything about it. With her giggles filling the elegant room of her modern and expensive apartment, Nunnally feels happy.

She hopes she could make Manny feel just like she is feeling now. But can she?

“Manny…why out of sudden…!?”

“Has something happen that I am not aware of…? - something good?

@mannequinentity

[lured-into-wonderland]

Oh, she was good at it! Keeping their attention. Nunnally was not even sure, where Circe could have learnt how to look appealing to men like those two (and no! she didn't want to know). Or rather the question was indeed a very different one: how Astarion and Circe had met? As there was no doubt they were close (friends).

By then Nunnally was not really jealous about Circe (she was just territorial). She trusted Astarion, but wouldn’t fully acknowledge that. After all, he did expect some jealousy, didn’t he? It would also make her furious, if he simply let her be flirted with without any reaction of his. Perhaps she should stop now; somehow Nunnally felt guilty. Ashamed she let herself join the game Circe was inviting her to play.

Maybe she wanted to come between her and her husband?

Nunnally’s blue eyes moved on Circe, but she didn’t sense any ill intentions. Circe was odd; that was undeniable but that was also extremely annoying.

“I can understand the latter…” – she commented in a hushed voice – “…but I am not quite sure why getting things for free has any charm in it…”

“…unless that’s something really nice…” – like a diamond necklace or the newest dress from her favourite designer. Though it was there, where Circe and she would not find a common ground. Maybe they even defined "free things" differently.

Nunnally was watching Circe; but as the other woman spoke, more and more doubts were clouding her thoughts. It wasn’t that she didn’t flirt before. It wasn’t that she didn’t know how to do it, but then again she didn’t want to. And with the last sentence Circe spoke, Nunnally made up her mind.

“You’re correct Circe, and you’re not in a way. When it comes to Astarion.” ��� it wasn’t that easy to say who had caught whom, and Nunnally liked that little uncertainty in their relationship – “And I would like to keep it that way…” – while she wanted their first divorce (as much as he did), she had no plans for the second one. Astarion was her LOVE, her second half, her safe place in the world.

“No.” – she stated firmly, while placing the shawl over her bare shoulders – “I am not doing it. Astarion would…wouldn’t like it.”

Circe took another sip from her glass while keeping an inviting smile to keep up the playful facade despite being stared at like a piece of fresh meat. His gaze constantly moved down to her chest with clear interest. Nothing guarded his alcohol fueled mind and because of it she could clearly see a thick cloud of desire together with intimate fantasies. Each fantasy was involving Circe performing sexual acts with a hungry fever that seemed far removed from reality and caused her feel nauseous. Clearly he believed there was something compatible between them worth exploring but his desires didn’t step above predatory desperation. These specimens were slimy but harmless which worked 

perfectly for their purpose. 

“Its not about the money, it's about getting things for free and make them believe they are in charge.” Circe sometimes forgot how sheltered Nunnally's upbringing had been compared to her own experiences as the daughter of a weaver and a pearl diver. Spending time with Astarion’s spoiled wife was challenging as it sometimes led to endless disputes and frustrations where Circe wanted to spank Nunnally’s behind. Other times it brought on protective feelings while also giving Circe an urge to push her toward new experiences. “Believe me, these fellows are harmless.” There were far worse men out there who would spike drinks or lure women to dangerous places. As long as they played it safely without leaving there was no issue. “But just in case we should probably prepare a safe word for when it’s time to leave.” 

“Ah, yes, I’m so desperate for company.” Circe giggled while using one hand as a fan to get some cold air against her face. “Well, cousin, our family could be filled with literature enthusiasts who adore the bard.” This was getting better and better. Nunnally seemed to like this idea of new identities. Hopefully nothing would disturb their moment of innocent fun. “That’s perfect.” She purred while rearranging the other bra strap. A motion that instantly caught more attention. How easily swayed one could be. As if they had never seen a real woman before. “You are posh, just own it. It’ll be more convincing that way.” 

Circe turned to Nunnally with a smirk. “Of course, darling, you managed to catch Astarion after all.” @lured-into-wonderland

[lured-into-wonderland]

She laughed. Clearly amused. Of course, it didn’t matter, but if Ponsol expected she couldn’t use the chopsticks properly, he would be surprised. Nunnally could, and was surprisingly good with them. But of course, she was not to brag about it anymore. She just nodded to accept his challenge. And then she nodded again to confirm that she couldn’t cook.

And then she laughed again; imagining them on the deserted island alone. -- (She was so pretty, when she was laughing). -- Yes, they probably would not survive, but perhaps not because of cooking: --

“They say necessity is a mother of invention. So, perhaps we’d just have to figure it out…” – Nunnally could probably learn how to cook, if she had ever tried. She just never had to…? Always having someone else to cook for her; with her grandmother considering it below her granddaughter to know how to do chores. Nunnally laughed again (why was she laughing in his company so much?): --

“It isn’t even that I don’t want to… It’s more I’ve never really had a need for that. And always have had more interesting options. When you’re being raised in the household, where you’re not even expected to make your bed, or dress up without proper assistance, it’s not difficult not to learn certain skills…” – Nunnally wondered how their upbringing was similar. Or rather different. Based on what Ponsol had told her before, it seemed that his mother wanted to “protect” him (and his brother) from that way of living that was Nunnally’s experience. Would she want a different childhood? Yes, in terms of affection and care, but not really when other things were considered. She enjoyed her life as it was.

Perhaps Nunnally was yearning for more independence, but she was well aware she couldn’t have everything. And she wasn't giving up that much either.

“A dinner out it is then.” – well, at this stage of their relationship, she actually preferred that. She would feel (slightly) uncomfortable in Ponsol’s place at the moment, and she definitely wouldn’t like to have him at her own house. It would be too personal for her. He was her friend, and she didn’t want her father to try to influence control how their relation would develop. Did it even make any sense? She loved her father; Nunnally truly did, but she was not unaware of what kind of person he was. NOT that she would ever acknowledge that openly. Indeed, quite opposite. She would DENY it.

“And given that we should find a place, where chopsticks are available…to continue with our small bet…”

“How about to honour your heritage, Ponsol? Would that be something you’d like to do?” – he had mentioned his mother; was that not correct?

[✧･ﾟ *♚*･ﾟ✧ ]

Ponsol chuckles, clearly amused by her comment. It was good to see that she was at least able to have some confidence to back up the skills that she clearly knew she had, which was a contrast to how she normally carried herself.

“That’s the spirit, make me acknowledge your skills. It’s not easy to make me concede, so it’ll be a huge accomplishment if you can.”

Again, he was mostly joking with her. It was true that it wasn’t easy to get Ponsol to admit that he was wrong (primarily because he normally wasn’t incorrect), so anyone who could make the stubborn man concede was a meritorious occasion.

“You can’t cook either, huh? Guess it’d suck if we ever got stranded on an island together.”

How could you survive if no one could cook? You’d just waste away to skin and bones and that wasn’t the kind of end he wanted for himself. Just imagining how emaciated he could look when finally rescued… an imaginary shiver went down his spine. (Yes, he’s a man of vanity, what about it?)

“I don’t see the need to really learn if you don’t really want to- or can’t.”

He was very casual about his comment, shrugging his shoulders in nonchalance. Even if Ponsol had someone to cook for, he probably wouldn’t. He wouldn’t be allowed. Anyone who had seen him in a kitchen would disallow him any entry, and it was to the point that if Ponsol ever told his brother that he was going to cook something for himself, the elder brother may force his way inside to ensure that Ponsol didn’t cook a biohazard (or start a fire again).

“Probably couldn’t be any worse than me in the kitchen. I’ve been barred from setting foot inside of the kitchen.”

An exaggeration? No, his brother really forced his way into Ponsol’s condo once after hearing that the sick Ponsol was attempting to make food for himself because he couldn’t bare risking anyone seeing his sickly-self. Did Ponsol ever use this to his advantage to trick his brother into cooking for him if he didn’t feel like going outside for food?

Is that even a question you had to ask? The answer was: obviously. Shugarl of course knew what his younger brother was doing, but he willingly allows it to happen, which then prompts Ponsol to continue the behavior. Such is the right of the youngest sibling who gets spoiled.

“Seeing as I’m inviting you out, we can go for something that you like. Either you can pick the place, or I’ll find somewhere that should cater to your tastes.”

It would be his choice ultimately, if she were to choose the latter, but at least her opinion would be taken into consideration and that was basically half the battle. Ponsol would admit it himself that he was well knowledgeable of good places to eat at, but they weren’t limited to high-end places. Sometimes, a good hole in the wall restaurant was right up his alley.

[lured-into-wonderland]

She let out a small gasp, when Kai's hands slid down onto her hips, and he pulled her closer. Even if it lasted shorter than she had expected (and Nunnally found no further excuses to pull him into another kiss), she could tell Kai enjoyed it. As much as she did. And even if his next words were unwelcomed, they were reasonable, and Nunnally knew she shouldn’t try to convince him he wasn’t right.

-- ...but why? why couldn't she at least once be unreasonable? --

The princess nodded, reached for his hand, and led him to the oh-so-well-known route she was using (too often) earlier. To gain herself an illusion of freedom. But as they were walking in that narrow dark corridor that suddenly felt cozy and intimate for her, Nunnally couldn’t brush off the feelings that Kai’s kiss had awoken in her. And as they were soon to reach the end of their (escape) route, and would find themselves close to the royal kitchens, and then outside, Nunnally decided she couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“You know I wouldn't have stopped you if we went further…” – her voice less than a whisper, but a confidence clearing ringing in it – “I want you, Kai, and I want you to know it…” – as if he didn’t.

“And I think…” – the distance voices interrupted her confession; the sound of laughter far enough probably not to be a danger for them, but still…

…it was safer to remain quiet. For now. 

It was clear he took her off guard with his kiss— in a good way, of course— and he loved how it felt as she melted into it, just as eager to kiss him as he was her. As they parted and she shared she hadn't ever used the balcony, he wasn't surprised. It took considerable strength to climb down, and as a princess, she wasn't expected to have that kind of athletic ability. It was the opposite, really— she was expected not to have it.

So when Nunnally told him of the servant's route, he nodded. It was a better choice all around as long as they weren't caught. "That sounds like a good option. Lead the way, your Highn—" he was cut off as she gave him his "change," and he couldn't help but smile into the sudden kiss. This time, he had been the one caught off guard, but he had always enjoyed surprises in the form of physical gestures like this, so he wasn't about to complain.

It was challenging to keep his hands from wandering, and they slid down to her hips to pull her closer before pushing her away with a slight blush. "Sorry, I don't think I'd be able t' hold back if we went any further. Shall we leave?"

[lured-into-wonderland]

“Then treat me as if I was a heir…” – Nunnally demanded – “…not a heiress…” – could Luna understand what she was asking for? Even if Nunnally could explain it better, she wasn’t ready to do it. She could have said that she wanted to meet as strict expectations as those imposed on boys. Indeed, hunting was predominantly viewed as a male activity, but women could hunt as well. Especially during the social events (wasn’t that exactly why Luna was hired? To make her finally (!) fully fit for these events?).

“Afraid of rabbits…?” – she repeated absent-mindedly; Nunnally had a distant cousin like that. Of course, he couldn't have been the student Luna was talking about, but it brought Nunnally some other memories. How harsh he had been treated because he had not fancied the right hobbies. Or at least what the right hobbies were in the eyes of his father. The world would have been a much better place, if people were allowed to follow their wishes, rather than the roles prescribed by society and its morals.

“Perhaps he wasn’t really afraid, but rather didn’t want to see them die…” – the princess wasn’t sure why she even mentioned that – “I…I’m sorry. It’s not...it’s even important.”

“And…and you don’t have to be concerned about me when it comes to rabbits. Or foxes.” – as much as Nunnally didn’t feel overly excited about the killing part, she knew it was necessary for her to learn. If she wanted to survive. And live on her own terms.

“Who has taught you to hunt?’ – was the last question the princess managed to ask before all the fun was spoiled by the overly nosy maid. But no matter how disappointed and confused she must have looked, it also allowed her for an interesting observation. The way Luna handled the situation let Nunnally believe she was a right choice; that she would not only teach her how to hunt, but perhaps something more important.

Could she treat her servants as coldly (but politely) as Luna had just done? Surely, but if she were in Luna’s position? There was something intimidating about Luna; some kind of natural authority. Something that required respect. In a way she was very similar to her royal father.

Nunnally watched the maid murmuring beneath her breath, but surprisingly she followed the orders without questioning them.

“Serve the tea in the Southern terrace.” – Nunnally finally regained her voice; it would be easier if they had their tea outside. Perhaps she could even avoid changing?

“My riding clothes will do just fine.” – Nunnally said; fighting the urge to further explain herself (and the situation to Luna); not letting the ‘I apologize’ to slip her lips.  

“I cannot promise that will not happen again.” – and she was sure Luna had just made herself the theme of today’s gossips. Though Nunnally was slightly worried what her father would say about all that.

"Yes... and yes." There was a measured pause between each answer, both of them true, though the implications were vastly different. Still, she had already wasted enough time wallowing in the past, casting her woes aside as she smiled, brimming with self-made confidence.

"The last student I had was a young man. But he wasn't much of a hunter. He was actually afraid of rabbits, if you can believe it." Now that brought back memories. The thought of that boy being scared stiff and hiding behind her like his mother's skirts brought it all rushing back to the surface, chuckling under her breath and shaking her head in disbelief.

Ever after all this time, for anyone to be afraid of rabbits was just astounding to her. He could play Chopin without missing a single note, and yet if he came across a rabbit in the garden she had to be called in as reinforcements. Which usually resulted in her dogs cornering the poor creature and her picking it up by the scruff, just to drop it off at the edge of the forest. He never wanted it killed, at least not in front of him; just removed.

Hopefully the princess had a stronger stomach than that, slowing down to a halt as they entered the vegetable garden, walking intently down the rows and doing a quick survey of which pumpkins would do well for target practice. The bigger, the better, and the more pulp and viscera that would explode on impact.

They weren't rabbits per say, but they were a good enough place to start.

Just as she had bent down and picked up one of the larger pumpkins by the vine, a voice called out to them from beyond the hedge. Great. She groaned internally as she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, buttoning her lip just to keep her from snapping at 'nanny'. She'd nearly forgotten how terribly persistent servants could be in ruining what little fun they were allowed to have.

... Oh well. The sound of gunfire would have drawn their attention anyway. She sighed.

"Granted, I would have preferred that you got in a few shots, before the cavalry came rolling in." She glared pointedly at the maid, her smile keen and sharp as a knife, before dropping the pumpkin and letting it splatter all over the ground.

"A rain check, then. Perhaps it would be best to discuss with your maids what clothes they will need to provide for your lessons, so that they won't fret over your wardrobe. And I prefer lemon with my tea, if you could go ahead and prepare it for us.

The princess and I will be just a moment. I'm sure she's more than capable of escorting me to where we'll be seated."