lured-into-wonderland

[lured-into-wonderland]

Red had found its way onto Nunnally’s cheeks, when Lukan complimented her. He thought she was kind. But that wasn’t true. She was polite. She was trained. She knew how to please. But she wasn’t kind. Or at least she had never thought about herself in such a way. Nunnally knew she was privileged. So, she was trying to act in a way that wouldn't shame her family. But that was it. She cared about appearances.

But then why didn’t she want this man to be aware of that…?

Even her charity work. It wasn’t that it started because she wanted to contribute to the society… Though why was she still doing it? When it was not needed anymore? Lukan was confusing her. More than she wanted to admit.

“Of course.” – she was quick to take an elegant notebook from her purse and quickly wrote a few numbers on it. The card smelled roses – “Here it is. Now you have my private number.” – Nunnally didn’t like the idea that his secretary might have been looking at them. Rumours; she hated them.

“Oh…!” – an exclamation; of course she wasn’t to insist. But she might find a way to come here more often – “Perhaps next week then…?” – she suggested; feeling that all the excuses are gone.

“Oh…!” – now her voice was now clearly happy – “Of course. I think we could always find something suitable to discuss in public.” – no, she wasn’t to pretend she didn’t want it. But why did he even suggest that? Did he...!??? But tat was impossible...! But why Nunnally? Why are you thinking so poorly about yourself?

“Absolutely. You’re right, Lukan.” – but now, it was really a time to go.

“Thank you…” – and then she did something that surprised her; she leaned closer to almost whisper it in his ear – “I…I really appreciate it.”

“But now...now I really think I should go...” - could he tell it made her sad?

His smile was just a little amused, head tilting slightly. “I’m afraid if I showed up in my lounging clothes, I would embarrass you.”

Even if it was a ‘simple’ event.

“And honestly, I would be ashamed. It is an event you worked hard on, I want to dress properly. Maybe you won’t be embarrassed - you are kind. But what other people would think would also bother me, I don’t want them to look down on the person you invite, because it means they’d look down on you, too. And you worked too hard for me to let it happen.”

His eyebrows rose at his first name, but decided to not point it out. Some people needed the feeling of comfort and closeness from using first name. 

“Yours ? I’m not sure, don’t I have only your grandmother’s ?”

He highly doubted her request for another session was really aiming for more therapy.

Amber eyes stared at her, and he shook his head lightly.

“I’m afraid my schedule for the week is packed…”

He let a beat pass, before adding, sounding thinkful. “But if the conversation doesn’t contain anything secret, we can have tea sometimes on the weekend ? And so we can discuss this event further, how does that sound ?”

It was a question, a real one, but Lukan was pretty sure of the answer he would receive, trying to hide his amusement.

[lured-into-wonderland]

The boy was odd. Taking so much after his father that it was almost terrifying. The way he looked at her. With that possessive look in his eyes. Or was it something else? She couldn’t quite recognize the emotions that were so visibly lighting up in the boy’s golden orbs.

Nunnally couldn’t deny it. The boy looked innocent. Almost fragile. But there was something about him that filled her heart with some sort of undefined anxiety. That made the peacefulness of the gardens, the naivety of a small child, her words, his smile being a disguise. A silence between the raging storm.

And when the boy finally spoke, the storm stroke with all the strength. Nunnally furrowed her brows. She didn’t appreciate it. Not even from Regulus but less from this boy that clearly tried to behave as his father would do.

“It’s rude to call someone an idiot.” – she started; trying to keep her voice down and friendly, but she was sure there were some irritating undertones to it as well. Almost the very same moment she finished talking, she suddenly pitied the boy. What life did he have? His father? Well, even if Nunnally had a soft spot for Regulus, she couldn’t deny he was a terrible figure of a father. He probably had hardly any time for the boy, and whenever these two would meet, it was very likely this was exactly how Regulus spoke to his mother and maybe even to the boy as well. She sighed deeply and tried again; this time succeeding much more: --

“Have you come here to pick these flowers for your mum?” – she inquired politely – “Look…!” – her hand moved around – “There are enough of them for both of us.” – yes, there were so many of them all around; and the scent was almost intoxicating. It was calling to Nunnally. She could almost hear their soft voices urging her to pick them and put them into her hair.

“And you don’t have to be worried…” – her attentions shifted again from her internal urges to the boy – “The Witch of Greed is my friend…” – that was an overstatement. And why did she even try to ease the boy? Obviously he was not worried about her.

“I am not mocking you!” – her voice stricter again – “And you shouldn’t speak to anyone like that. Even if that’s what your dad usually does…” – she said the last words in a softer voice. She could understand the boy’s difficult situation. Or so she thought. Nunnally smiled: --

“Thank you for warning me…but…but I think it is too late. I’ve been…exposed to the sin of greed for such a long time that if it was to change me, it already would.”

“Come on…” – she extended her hand to the boy – “Let’s leave from here if the flowers make you uncomfortable…” – truth to be told that after all these words had been told , Nunnally started to feel some sort of uneasiness slowly filling her heart. As well as the golden-eyed boy. He was just…she couldn’t catch it…

He did seem to be Regulus’s son. But was he?

“I am sure you’d be as great of the king as your father…”

“Oh, and what’s your name?” – she inquired; the boy knew her name, what she just needed to consider as an odd fact. Though she was Regulus’s favourite?

Though obviously not; he didn’t love her deep enough to give her a son.

…or a daughter…

[lured-into-wonderland]

It didn’t seem fair. Nunnally had always found their ways of living unfair, but she had never voiced it. The princess couldn’t have been weak. And questioning the successful foundations of their society, only because she was scared of her future duties, would be a sign of weakness. Yes, she was probably in a better position than most. Or was it only an illusion? Was more actually expected of her?

“Yes. More like me.” – Nunnally was certain his reply would be ‘yes’ to a question posed in such a way. After all, he needed to be curious. Right? The general had admitted himself she was the first and the only he had ever met, so surely he’d like to see if others were….more willing than a princess.

“No…?” – hence his reply did catch her off guard – “You’ve got me…!?” – again a surprising statement – “In… in what sense do you have me…!?” – was he given orders? Had her mother finally lose her patience and had made this decision instead of her? The princess voice was impatient. She urged him to reply. To confirm or to deny. What would she do, if he confirmed? Probably nothing but accept.

Nunnally’s gaze now fixed on Tae. He was handsome; she couldn’t deny it. Perhaps he wouldn’t be the worse choice…but before she needed to decide, the explanation was delivered to her. He wasn’t placed here to produce heirs immediately. A lie, but the general, especially so young and inexperienced in certain fields as him, wouldn’t know it. But Nunnally knew. She knew he was placed here with a hope that perhaps he’d be the one to make the royal princess choose her very first partner. Would she want him?

“If everyone was not to do their duty, we would not survive…” – a way to agree with him, and yet a small criticism (that she could so easily deny if needed) – “No… I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t enjoy it if you took me against my will.” – even if at some point she’d have no choice, she still wouldn’t like to be physically forced – “But would you like to lie down with a woman one day, Tae?”

“With me?” – she wasn’t sure w h y she asked him so openly and so directly; perhaps because in her part of the capital city, it was just a normal thing to discuss. She shrugged – “Perhaps it will happen one day.”

“I like you.” – she added firmly – “You did catch my interest.” – but did she like him enough to let him take her? To take him as her lover? She didn’t know. Time will show; Nunnally guessed.

“I have never met a dragon.” – she admitted honestly – “And I don’t mind walking…” – it was a yes, wasn’t it? – “Do you like…do you like your dragon, General?”

"you're  the  first.  you  do  know  that  ladies  live  in  the  upper  part  of  the  capital  and  only  there.  men,  like  me,  are  being  kept  outside  of  the  capital  unless  we  reach  a  certain  stage  within  the  military."  he  didn't  dislike  that  fact.  ladies  shouldn't  be  drinking  in  the  blood  of  battle,  but  he  also  didn't  see  them  as  breeding  stations.  they  were  supposed  to  be  their  goddesses  but  he  also  couldn't  deny  that  he  was  probably  received  not  because  of  love  and  marriage  but  simply  for  the  need  of  more  numbers  in  their  upcoming  wars.  perhaps  it  was  just  like  this,  just  his  dad  becoming  a  soldier,  being  ordered  to  serve  a  lady  just  to  put  a  kid  into  her  a  year  later.  it  was  not  a  command  from  someone,  he  wasn't  told  to  take  her  to  bed.  he  was  merely  meant  to  protect  her  for  the  time  being,  to  play  her  little  guardian.  protect  her  from  what  though?  it  was  more  slavery  than  anything,  but  she  didn't  seem  to  be  a  very  dominant  lady,  luckily.

perhaps  society  could  take  a  step  back  for  the  time  being  and  he'd  just  enjoy  his  newly  won  freedom.

"meet  more  of...  you?"  the  general  scratched  his  cheek.  he  had  never  thought  about  it.  he  was  sure  they  were  all  equally  as  beautiful...  tae  gently  squeezed  his  eyes  closed  before  tilting  his  head  to  take  another  look  at  her.  no,  perhaps  equally  or  more  beautiful  was  a  misconception.  there'd  be  no  one  quite  like  her,  he  supposed.  her  beauty  was  quite  obvious.  then  again,  beauty  standards  among  women  were  not  known  to  him.  he  could  hear  the  spirit  of  his  friend  laughing,  probably  amused  at  taecenyx  being  so  enarmored.

"i  don't  think  so.  i  have  you,  right?"

the  man  shook  his  head  lightly  when  the  conversation  shifted  to  her  mother.  "i  think  she  might  have  talked  to  dad  and  the  commander,  but  i  have  not  been  placed  here  for  reasons...  of  creating  heirs.  i  guess  at  one  point  it  is  expected  of  us  soldiers,  especially  since  we  are  not  allowed  to  come  into  the  capital,  much  less  meet  women,  but  nobody  told  me  to  mount  you.  i  also  don't  think  you'd  enjoy  that."

he  may  not  have  received  much  love,  but  he  hoped  it  was  different  for  nunnally.

he  easily  went  along,  eyes  looking  up  at  the  sky.  "ever,  you  want  to  meet  him?  i  suppose  he'd  enjoy  that.  i  know  that  your  kind  has  some  sort  of  connection,  not  something  we  share  because  we  tame  them,  rather  than  establish  a  fond  bond...  i  think  he  might  be  resting  at  the  beach.  it...  is  quite  a  long  way.  is  that  alright  with  you?"

[lured-into-wonderland]

“I’m…frequent enough…” – she lets her reply being accompanied by a small laughter; it’s not a lie. Nunnally is a socialite and, therefore, she has obligations. Obligations that she cannot fully neglect, even if her father is kind enough to protect her privacy (at least until he decides it’s time for her to be useful; she cannot deny she knows that simple fact of life.) After all her fate, from the day she was born, is to marry for the sake of her family. But since the man – Yuu – is here, he must be aware of these unspoken (but widely understood) rules. So, there is no need to voice them. It’s something to be aware of, but not speak about – “But you’re correct.” – Nunnally isn’t going to lie; there is no need to even though she doesn't know the man – “I’ve been travelling recently. So, I have obviously skipped a few events.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Yuu.” – she extends her pale hand towards the man; it’s small and elegant. Her skin white, untouched by sun and any (hard) work. Nunnally is protected. Nunnally is spoiled – “My name is Nunnally.” – she introduces herself; he didn’t give his surname, so she doesn’t feel inclined to provide hers either. But she is almost certain he knows who her father is. Her father is powerful, and her name is unique enough. Nunnally looks at him. He’s handsome. He’s polite. He’s charming.

“So, are you a usual guest at events like that? I am sure I’d have remembered you…” – she does have a good memory for faces – “Though of course such events are crowded enough…”

“I am pretty excited about the next week party.” – she continues talking; she feels safe. If he wasn’t a part of their world, he would not be here. The outsiders were easily recognized. Known – “The Prime Minister is going to host one. Everyone is talking only about that. The rumours say he’s going to announce something important…” – but perhaps she shouldn’t talk so much.

“Have you tried the caviar? They say it’s spectacular…”  -- though she’d rather choose vegetables instead. The tight dress, like she is wearing now, does not encourage to eat. Another disadvantage of being her.

❛      despite their interest lying mainly in connections, the stuff they're serving to eat isn't half bad. ❜ a playful comment, his offer in lieu of a greeting as he breaks the silence that lingers between them. while he isn't exactly on the guest list, invitation offered to a temporarily forged identity only rumoured by name between the elite, real personality hidden between a short amount of drinks and his limitless observation on the topic of conversation around him, there's no denying how easily he fits in this place like a glove. talking events he's only heard of like he's experienced it first hand, eating fancy pastries if he hasn't spent the past week on packet noodles and beer paid for by his coworkers ... he's lucky his face is pretty unrecognisable by most, unless they find themselves openly upon the wrong side of the law.

❛  are you a frequent visitor? can't say i've seen you around here. ❜ he offers in a lie, the truth being that he cannot truly identify her without a name. nothing in adonis' records go into detail about anyone outside of politicians beyond a basic identity, latest appearances and who they may have arrived with. he, for one, has no blame towards those who may be related to filth, understanding the difference between being guilty and that of being guilty by association, but that does not mean saeki can always stop them from being involved. ( icarus was always destined to fly too close to the sun, was he not? ) ❛  call me yuu, ❜ -zuru. ❛  may i have the honour of recieving such a fine ladies name in turn? ❜ / @lured-into-wonderland ♥'d for a starter!

[lured-into-wonderland]

be terrible to me. i love it.

This amuses Nunnally. His readiness to be on her mercy (if it’s not an exaggeration to expect he really would; but perhaps it’s just her secret wish resurfacing right now?). Though she’s not sure if he’s serious. She finds him to be a man who likes being in control...

And definitely of his own wife…?

“But are you sure you can handle me then…?” – her voice is almost impatient; laced with more than slight expectations: that he’ll say yes (then Astarion would not withdraw, would he?). Nunnally trembles with anticipation. And so do her fingers that are now grazing her husband’s cheek, and then travel down only to play with his elegant silk tie. The texture of it stimulates her senses. How unexpected!

Her long pale digits suddenly tighten around the expensive fabric and pulls it firmly down; to make Astarion lean forward so that their faces are close without her having to stand on her toes. The smell of his expensive cologne seems so intensive right now (although Nunnally is aware it’s only because of how sensitive she has become).

She still forces herself to breath evenly. Steadily. As if she was in full control (she isn’t). Her lips are placed in the corner of Astarion’s mouth. Nunnally lets her tongue slide out to invite him for more (though her hand still rest on his tie firmly).    

“And just how terrible should I be?” – Nunnally already has more than one idea of what she craves. But hearing him voicing his desires? Now, that’s when the real fun (pleasure) begins. Nunnally wants to know. She wants to be his secret bottle of fancy liquor he’s treating himself with, when no-one is looking. His wife in the daylight, but during the night…?

They could indulge in whatever fun they want.

Simply because they can.

@estarion

[lured-into-wonderland]

Continued from [here] with @swordduels

This wasn’t her perfect night out (and she had already regretted saying ‘yes’ the very moment this word left her lips in reply to Circe's question). But she had not expected it to be that bad. How could men like these two morons even think that the woman like herself (and Circe) would even look at them!?

As much as Nunnally wasn’t convinced Circe could really turn humans into insects, she wished there was such an easy solution available. She looked at these two men Circe had just pointed to her (with a clear disgust in her blue eyes). They looked…below average. Their clothes rather on the cheap side and none of them was wearing a tie!

“Why are you encouraging them…?” – she hissed in annoyance taking a sip of her red wine (yes, even the red wine was of insufficient quality here). Nunnally considered she had enough of being an average citizen for now. With these two coming closer, she missed her little social environment with elegant and polite men that simply knew what was required of them. No, she was not naïve. She knew these elegant men had mistresses and often times treated their wives badly, but her life was about pretending…

“I’ll take the motorcycle man.” – she had finally decided – “But don’t blame me when things will get out of control…”   

[lured-into-wonderland]

Continued from [here] with @muddsludge

She nodded. Nunnally liked black. It wouldn’t be necessarily her choice, but since she asked Ogata she was to follow his whimsy. Or rather her own in asking for fashion advice from her reluctant bodyguard. It was actually surprising he didn't refuse, but made his choice. So, she was not to shy away now.

As much as it might have seemed that Nunnally was provoking Ogata (with her outfit or rather lack of it), it was the last thing on Nunnally’s mind. She was so used to being almost completely stripped off her privacy that she had stopped paying much attention into it. Yes, she had noticed that he didn’t look away, as some of her bodyguards would, but since she found his gaze mostly neutral (or even respectful) she simply let it be. As much as she didn’t care about it too much, Nunnally knew she was pretty. She knew men fancied her. So, why would Ogata be that different?

“…who…?” – she asked slightly absent-mindedly, but even before that short word had fully left her lips, she realized he had meant Koito. Her brows furrowed in a slight annoyance, but then she shrugged gently and added almost cheerfully. As if that small expression on her face had never happened.

“Then he’d have to deal with his own disappointment.”

“I am not planning to dress to please him…or any other man for that matter.” – it was said with a superficial self-confidence as Nunnally was perfectly aware it wouldn’t take much for her to wear whatever pleased her father. But yet he never cared to care as long as she followed some basic social patterns. Anyway, she doubted that much in her wardrobe would receive Koito’s appreciation. He seemed to want a gentle and timid girl that she wasn’t.

“Then it seems you have at least good taste...in fashion.”

As Ogata was turning on his heels to leave, Nunnally’s voice stopped him: --

“I didn’t say I will not be needing your assistance anymore.” – she let her night robe fall down (and it was now pooling around her feet), but without any delay she put the black dress on – “Would you mind zipping it up for me?” – of course there was no place for him to refuse.

[lured-into-wonderland]

Continued from [here] with @fallesto

She cannot help it but thinking what would have happened if she took a sip from that wine glass (she will not though; not without a permission and perhaps not even if it's granted to her).

But Nunnally cannot stop thinking how it would have affected her body. Her soul (a ridiculous question, she has no soul whatsoever). She has been called here, into his very castle as many other before her. With the foolish hope to get the eternal youth. Eternal life. But her fate has turned out different than those of many (or all?). Better or worse: that’s only to be seen. Soon enough? Unlikely. It is her fate (or the price she needs to pay).

Nunnally stays quiet. Too frightened to continue talking, or too curious of what is just happening in front of her eyes. He says it’s tonight, but she knows it’s not tonight. At least not for her. Or perhaps she is wrong? She has been wrong about so many things with her.

Finally, his eyes move from the pages of the ancient page and (forbidden) incantations to look at her. Red eyes glowing. As if they could see through her. As if he knew. But he has to know. Then why is he even entertaining her? Or rather he’s playing with her? And what’s the end of this game?

Death?

She has seen it happening too many times.

Or rather something worse than death.

Shall she reply him? But what should she say? Should she leave? But she doesn’t want to. She wants to stay and witness it. Whatever is to happen this night. Her blue eyes turn away from his piercing gaze. Wandering over the ancient language she still cannot read (not fully anyway, but she learns).

“Shall I leave then…” – there are these challenging undertones in the way she speaks; almost as she was trying to seduce him. Her hand moves towards the wine glass; her fingers grazing the base and the stem… Still too hesitant to reach for the rim…

[lured-into-wonderland]

Circe "So, do you have any ideas for baby names?"

“W-where is this question even coming from!”

“I…I am not even…pregnant!”

Circe is being ridiculous. As usual. But then again Nunnally's second thought is that she is not pregnant. As if she was entertaining Circe’s idea (she is, indeed). As if she was actually assuming this is possible (of course, it is!).

 “Yes…” – Nunnally starts slowly; talking to herself more than to anyone else. Perhaps she’s not even aware these words are leaving her lips – “My husband ( @estarion ) and I have been discussing it…for some time…but I…I don’t think any decision were taken…” – or rather it is all left to fate? It's not they haven't been trying. Perhaps even more than trying.

“He wants a boy…” – why do men always want boys; as if girls were worse. But Nunnally knows how to be a lesser child, so she’s rather have a boy (or twins?) – “He…could have his father’s eyes… and maybe a name starting with the same letter…” – is she daydreaming…? - "Or maybe it would be a girl? She would have blue eyes and long blond hair... So nice to brush..." - and it would be brushed with love unlike Nunnally's own.

She could imagine their perfect child (or children). Almost see him. And her. The most loved baby…But life is always different from dreams.

“What are you even talking about…!”

“Of course, I have not!” – she pretends to be annoyed. But she isn’t. Not anymore at least. Maybe Circe is right…?

Perhaps it’s time…No! What is she even thinking about...!

@swordduels

[lured-into-wonderland]

He was not much of a talker, wasn’t he? But it wasn’t that Nunnally cared. While she didn’t look for any long lasting relations and commitments, or at least that was what she convinced herself was best for her, she enjoyed meaningless encounters like this one with Ivan. Encounters that were to end before they fully started.

She nodded, when he commented about the weather, and about his own name. It wasn’t even that she was unaware of it’s origins, and the places where it was (or might be) popular. But wouldn’t sharing "that" with him tell him a little too much about her? Or perhaps that was just another thing that did not matter.

“And I won’t…” – she chuckled almost cheerfully upon his next comment; it wasn’t that she trusted anyone – “…not very trustful persons we are…” – an attempt to joke, or perhaps just to verbalize what he had just said from a slightly different perspective. She chuckled again – “A gentleman, I see…” – for a moment she felt inclined to accept his offer, but then she simply refused: --

“I’ll be all right. I don’t mind getting wet…or dirty…although I might not look like that…” – she surely did not and she was aware that. A porcelain doll. How ridiculous!

“Do you really find my hair pretty?” – perhaps she should simply accept a compliment (if it even was one), but she enjoyed an opportunity to ask this very question…

“ i see, ” his reply was dry and for a moment, he hesitated and faltered in his steps. but when the woman insisted they keep going, ivan picked up the pace once more. “ well, the church is a bit of a walk away, after all, and the clouds are gathering quickly... perhaps you will get to see what you came here for after all, ” the words were accompanied by a playful smirk, head tilting at the following compliment to his name.

“ perhaps in these parts it is, ” he chose to leave the details remain a mystery... for now, at least. as they walked hand in hand, albeit the connection was frail, almost as if a single gust of wind could break it, his eyes were fixated upon the woman's porcelain features as she, too, shared her name in turn. and she was right, it was one that he'd never heard of. “ indeed. ”

her doubt in him, well-founded as it was, made the man chuckle. “ you shouldn't, ” the reply was nonchalant, though perhaps more telling than it needed to be— a reminder that they were still strangers, even after learning one another's name. that, in ivan's book, didn't automatically make them friends. and as far as he was concerned, he was a dangerous individual. nunnally would be correct in remaining reserved in her faith in him. it would do her no good.

“ if you're worried, i'll lend you my jacket to protect that pretty hair of yours. now, come, it's not that far anymore. ”

[lured-into-wonderland]

While she actually enjoys the moment, Nunnally isn’t sure how she wants this night to end. And when. It’s all almost surrealistic right now; the boxes, the penthouse, Sea almost trapping her in his embrace. His kisses along the line of her jaw. As if they have not just met. As if it was their decisions and not one made by others long time ago.

Nunnally isn’t sure how far she’d like to go, or if any of them should simply shy away. Her mind tries to decide what might be the expectations towards her, while her sub-consciousness simply urges her to enjoy the moment. Always torn. She wonders if Sea feels the same.

Expectations: her father's, her grandmother's, Sea's parents', Sea's...her own?

And since she is so deep within her own feelings, trying to understand what is happening, the apartment itself seems not to be important (noticeable) at all. Otherwise, Nunnally would probably acknowledge the way it is furnished. The modern lines. Its elegance. Its luxury. But, somehow, that’s insignificant now, or perhaps taken for granted.

“You already has…”

“…has made it...this night...memorable…” – she finally whispers; her arms now on his neck. And it isn’t a lie. They have had a beautiful dinner, and this is a nice "addition" to it. She doesn't like the word "addition", but she is not sure how to call it. Even internally...she's so lost.

And yet Nunnally is now convinced she could fall in love with Sea. Perhaps she already is (in a process), but she is also certain they need some time. She needs some time.

Always knowing she was to marry Sea, she has always refused to indulge even in a thought of intimacy with others, and suddenly here, in his arms, she feels how much she was missing. Nunnally needs another person. She needs to feel loved…

…and wanted.

“Sea…” – she murmurs; an unspoken request to stop…or to continue…

Sea grins, a slow, knowing smile as he laces his fingers through hers. “Our home, huh?” he echoes, his voice carrying a quiet warmth. He likes the way that sounds. Likes the way she said it.

Without letting go of her hand, he leads her through the apartment, past the neatly stacked boxes—her boxes. The sight of them still tugs at something in him, a reminder of how much of this was decided for them. And yet, here she is, standing beside him, saying our home like she chooses this. Like she chooses him.

The kitchen is sleek, modern, and—like the rest of the penthouse—minimalistic. Clean lines, high-end appliances, and a fridge stocked with fresh, healthy foods. But none of that matters right now.

What matters is her.

He slows as they reach the counter, his grip shifting from her hand to her waist. With an easy movement, he pulls her closer, trapping her lightly between himself and the marble surface. His arms wrap around her, one hand splaying across the small of her back, the other drifting up to brush her hair aside.

“You want a tour?” he murmurs against her skin, his lips barely grazing the curve of her neck. “I guess I should make it memorable.”

His mouth finds a spot just below her ear, pressing a slow, lingering kiss there before trailing lower, along the line of her jaw. He feels her shiver beneath his touch, and it sends a wave of satisfaction through him.

Maybe this could be their home. Maybe this is their beginning.

[lured-into-wonderland]

“Yes…like…my father’s subjects…” – Nunnally still spoke with some difficulty, but at least she had managed to steady her breath – “You know…the security guys…the guards…and…” – well, probably he didn’t know. He was a demon; a representative of a race that just not so long ago, she hadn’t even believed existed. But was it even real?; she questioned herself again...

“Though on the second thought…I don’t think you know…” – a faint smile reached her face as Shugarl took her hand. The princess should perhaps criticize him for smoking in her company (but then again he wouldn’t care about her preferences), but it was just too good to have him around.

“My life is ruled by the royal protocol. Royal etiquette…” – Nunnally was trying to explain something, but why was she really trying? Shugarl had been here long enough to understand how the kingdom (human world) worked. And how her life worked. Though he wasn’t exactly her shadow, he had spent enough time with her to simply know.

“W-what do you mean by that…?” – the exclamation left her lips before Nunnally was able to stop it. Her grip on his hand tightened; she thought she understood and yet she did not.

“You mean…” – the princess finally stuttered in disbelief. But then (again) she started to see things as they were. Yes, Shugarl exactly meant that.  That he had left the heart on her bed. That he had killed the assassin that was there to murder her. Nunnally felt as a wave of embarrassment (and dizziness) flooding her again and again. Her breathes became uneven, and for a short moment she had that feeling she was suffocating. She hoped she would not faint, but she wasn’t certain.

One more deep breath and she was ready to speak.

“They…yes…” – no, that was wrong. She was stuttering. Another deep breath – “They’ll surely find the body. Though they would not find the answer who…” – killed him – “…eliminated the threat and how that heart ended up in my chamber.”

“Why…why did it end in my chamber, Shugarl?” – she asked; her voice shaking…

“Thank you…” – he might have as well saved her life. The security was good, but then again no-one was perfect.

“Do you…”

“…do you think I could smoke your cigarette?” – could humans handle something like cigarette from Hell? – “I…I don’t mean to…”

||Tan(60)=√3|| That was a lie, and he could visibly see that it was so, but he spoke none of it. Sometimes, Demon women were the same (if not worse) in the sense that it was never wise to argue against a woman who lied for the sake of her pride or self-worth. He stayed silent and watched as she relocated herself to a large armchair, curling up comfortably, looking something akin to a fragile piece of porcelain that would break with a single touch.

Patience is a virtue and though it seemed ironic for a Demon such as himself to possess any virtue, he didn’t mind waiting for her to speak. Sometimes, the best agonizing screams from sinners came from the overwhelming inevitability of pain to come. Weaponized patience, if you will.

      “Who is the ‘they’ you speak of? Your subjects?”

Perhaps, she was concerned that whoever had left behind the heart was going to try to limit her movements? An amusing thought for sure, as it would make his life easier, but it would come with the downside of boredom. Shugarl did not wish to waste decades in human years cooped up in a castle, being unable to do much else because she was too terrified to venture outside the supposed safety of her room.

Of course, another fallacy given that an assassin had found their way into her room.

Pulling out a cigarette and summoning hell fire to light it, he extends his hand for her to hold. If he was going to be subjected to donating his hand for her comfort, she could stand to be around his Demon cigarettes for a time. Concessions were in order here.

      “The heart was very fresh, and if your subjects aren’t useless, they’ll find the assassin it came from.”

Human nobility sounded annoying with all the rules and pretenses to put up with, but they were often rife with sin. Royalty, especially, had claimed many sinners in the depths of Hell from their immoral actions committed during life. Their anguish- was delicious.

[lured-into-wonderland]

“You care about her…why…” – it was more of a statement than a question; a sudden realization of the other’s kindness that surprised Nunnally. That was hard to understand for someone like her… Who was taught there was always a price to pay – “…she’s a stranger to you…is she not?” – a clumsy justification for her question, but perhaps a better explanation where Nunnally was coming from.

She was not used to caring about anyone in such a way. She wouldn’t admit it to Ebony that it made her sad (or jealous), but she did feel confused.

“No…no…that’s all right…”

“I don’t really care about the shoes that much. I mean…” – she wasn’t sure what she even intended to say.

“What do you mean cops are not really here to help…?” – Nunnally blinked in confusion. But even though she was used to everyone being helpful, when she asked, it wasn’t that she was completely clueless about the world outside her bubble. She must have been acting ridiculously in the eyes of the other girl.

“I…I apologize. I must still be in shock…” – a poor of an excuse – “Can I perhaps get a cup pf coffee somewhere…”

“My name is Nunnally…by the way…”

' 'll bring it up t' someone later. '

the older woman was kind and it wasn't like she was senile or causing problems on purpose. maybe she could get the woman to move somewhere where she'd be on the first floor. that would solve all the problems, wouldn't it ? at least to ebony it would. but maybe she was being too optimistic about things.

' well, yes. bu' it wasn' on purpose, like i said. '

she'd have to talk to aoi later about this. but for now, she needed to try and appease the woman best she could.

' ya sure ? i don' mind tryin'. '

it was the least she could do after all. she pauses, however, blinking as she asks. a roll of her shoulders in a shrug, humming softly.

' i jus' know th' cops in th' area. an' they don' evah try t' actually 'elp. '

[lured-into-wonderland]

Her first reaction would be to refuse to give herself an excuse to leave. But since she had already asked for tea (as a distraction, indeed), there was no polite way to leave. And Nunnally usually avoided being rude. A custom from her childhood, when bad manners were punished.

“Is that not too sweet? The cheesecake…I mean?” – Nunnally didn’t have a sweet tooth; indeed, she ate sweets so rarely that most of the desserts were just too sweet for her – “I’ll try a small piece then, but a biscuit or even nothing would work just fine.” – Nunnally hesitantly followed Emil to the kitchen.

It was a nice place in a way. Felt safe. Felt home. Not hers, but still.

“You seem to like baking…or cooking…” – or both? – “What could you do from scratch?” – she curiously inquired.

"Of course." Emil stood up and went to the kitchenette to prepare a fresh brew, for them both. It could seem like she left Nally for a moment of solitude, but her attention was still on her, sensing every movement.

Emil didn't trust Nally's change of sucject, but she hardly faulted her for this dishonesty. Emil lied herself... She chuckled to herself, once again noting how different her own approach to 'truth' and 'promise' was.

"Would you like any snacks?" She called out so Nally would hear her in the seating area and opened a fridge. "I have some dark chocolate cheesecake-" she took it out to cut a slice for herself- "and a whole plethora of other kinds. Not to mention things I can just make from scratch."

[lured-into-wonderland]

“Tweetie?” – honestly how more ridiculous it could get – “Tweetie…” – the second time, it doesn’t sound as bad as it did, when Nunnally repeated it for the first time. Nunnally could be Tweetie; she didn’t mind it (after all).

“A death wish…” – did she have a death wish? – “Maybe sometimes… But I am a coward. Or perhaps not. I actually have a strong will to…live… Ever since I was born everyone was expecting I’d die soon and here I am. Still clinging to life…” – too much honestly as for this ridiculous conversation, right?

But why should she care. A conversation is a conversation even if as ridiculous as this one. A dream. That is what it is.

“You…do you have a death wish?” – she did. Sometimes. Something was telling Nunnally they were more similar than they both would be comfortable to admit.

"Mmm, dunno. Not like 'good' advice exists anyways, right?"

Jinx has received a lot of advice over the years, mostly from just one person, boy did he know how to yap when he was in the mood! She would always roll her eyes about it, but now that he's gone, she finds she sort of misses it. Maybe this new whiney-rhymey-- she thinks she'll call it Tweetie --can fill the void.

"Meet Powder!?"

A flash of something even more erratic crosses bulging pink eyes.

"Do you got a death wish, Tweetie? Ya know we only just met, so its okay to be honest with me. I'll only hold it against you a little."

[lured-into-wonderland]

His music taste is at least…questionable! And so is his boldness (though is there still a need for manners between them?).But isn’t she actually in needs for someone just like that?

Plus his gesture is a clear invitation for…a dance! When was it when she has danced for the last time? Too long ago. Nunnally loves dancing. Her eyes become a bit teary (which he might not notice), when she suddenly remembers the long gone but not forgotten past.

The balls…the music…the elegant gowns…the fans…the high heels…the guests…the glasses of champagne…

“It’s a pleasure…” – her lips whispers as she lets Sora guide her to dance to whatever odd music he has chosen…

“It doesn’t matter…”

“...I am dancing again…”

Despite his new friend's royal status, Sora couldn't allow this! He hugged his boom box close to his chest as if cradling a newborn, pouting as he huffed.

"Says the guy who is getting school in session. Listen up! We got KISS, Cascada, Cyndi Lauper, Metallica, OOhhh this one!"

You really did it this time, Nunnally. There he goes, inserting a new cassette tape and pressing the play button. After setting the boom box down, that playful guy takes her by the hand to dance with him. This is what happens when you befriend a himbo.

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ

[lured-into-wonderland]

I am writing! See me! I actually have more drafts half way completed, so I guess I might post more...today?