paradisalost | no thinking for a little while

Who: Nina Sayers and EVERYONE (I'll fix the tags as people come in)
What: a ballet recital
When: June 5
Where: the Ballroom
Rating: PG for now

The ballroom has been transformed into a theater of sorts, the walls and floors pitch black as well as the chairs spreading in meticulous rows from the stage. Black curtains hang heavily from the ceiling while strobe lights burn a feathered white circle onto the stage.

A program has been placed on each seat:

♔ Variations ♔
Swan Lake, Act II, Odette
The Sylphide, Act II, Sylphide
Giselle, Act I, Giselle

In honor of Angel

The lights dim before the show begins.

Nina steps onto the spotlight in a white swan costume to begin her Odette variation with all the technical mastery required for the part, tragedy written in the curve of her swan wings. She is close enough to perfect; beautiful and fragile. She steps offstage to return as the Sylphide, the untouchable woman of airy delight, who withers and dies when love, unknowingly, binds her to the material world. Chastity becomes her, becoming almost barren in her interpretation.

Lastly she becomes Giselle, the peasant girl who dances like satin and cream. Graceful yet childlike, she is oblivious to all but her lover, the apple of her eye.

Nina gestures for the audience to stay for one last encore before exiting the stage.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Really? I think you'd look amazing in a properly knotted bowtie."

He kept a perfectly straight face while he sipped at his champagne again.

"Hmm, perhaps we should pick mini golf over bowling, since I don't want to give you an unfair advantage."

"Do you really think I'm the sort to take advantage of you?"

If he could keep his features so straight and even, then at least Fred could do her best to match them. But instead of taking a sip of her own champagne, set the glass aside and once again collecting the slender bit of black silk.

She dropped it in Wesley's lap, tilting her neck just slightly to allow Wesley better access.

"...go on then."

Never say she didn't take him as a man of his word.

"I absolutely do."

Then Wes set his own champagne glass aside, giving her a raised eyebrow at her actions, until he realised what she was doing. Then he chuckled and took up her challenge.

He picked up the length of silk and draped it carefully around her neck. As he did so, he was aware how wonderfully close she was. It was difficult to focus on his task, but he persevered, his fingertips lightly brushing against her bare throat while he worked.

It took him a couple of tries. "I usually do this in the mirror." Eventually he got it to his satisfaction and smoothed it one last time. "There."

Fred held herself deliberately still as Wesley went about his assigned task. His focus elsewhere, she was allowed a far more leisurely examination of his features than she might have otherwise. He'd clearly shaved before the ballet, but already a whisper of growth was visible just beneath his skin. The shadow was subtle in the dim light, and her fingers itched with an excuse to trace themselves down the line of his jaw.

Wesley's own hands were still occupied with the tie, not Fred minded. Through his stops and starts she was aware of the juxtaposition of the feel of the cool, silky fabric against the strong, calloused feel of his fingertips.

She'd always liked that word. Juxtaposition.

She liked ---

It occurred to her then that he was done.

Fred reached up with one hand to tentatively explore his handiwork. She took a breath, and found it wasn't too tight.

"Well? What is just what my outfit needed?"

Wes smiled and nodded, even though it was an odd combination with her off the shoulder dress.

"Bowties are perfect for any occasion." He quipped, then impulsively leaned down to place a soft kiss on her bare shoulder. He was being daring tonight. But it felt good and for once there was no overriding fear that she might bolt if he inadvertantly did the wrong thing.

"So did we agree on mini golf?"

"...we did."

Her voice was pitched low, with hardly a reason for more with Wesley so close. Something in the tone also notably affected from the touch of his mouth to her shoulder. Fred smiled. "If only because you're convinced I'm going to take advantage of you otherwise."

Clearly inspired by the ease between them, Fred reached up with the hand not caught between them to guide Wesley's face even closer to initiate a kiss of her own. Her fingers drifted to briefly rest against the skin left exposed by his open collar as she lingered in the embrace long enough to find Wesley beneath the initial layer of champagne. Her smile was slightly tilted as she pulled away.

"Just a bit of encouragement, to make sure you have the conversation. With the guy that knows a guy? I don't want to get lost in that line."

Then, embracing the contentment that'd settled over her, Fred let her head drop to rest on Wesley's shoulder.

He had to admit that the idea of Fred taking advantage of him in any fashion she saw fit had immense appeal. As it was he found himself aware of every shift of her body while she sat next to him.

And then she was initiating a kiss, and he thrilled at the touch of her hand coaxing him closer, the soft warmth of her lips on his. He couldn't remember a time when he'd felt more carefree and optimistic as right at this moment.

"Just a bit?" He murmured, smirking at her when she finally pulled away. "I think you've earned a permanent spot at the front of the queue."

He shifted to allow her to lean against him, his arm draping over her shoulder to pull her closer. It was a beautiful night and he was content just to sit and enjoy it with her.

"You do realise that I'm going to slay you at mini-golf, don't you?"

Fred fell quiet at Wesley's quip about her position at the front of the line, her gaze settled on the shadowed treeline that cut across the distant horizon. Despite conversations and resolutions to the contrary, it was impossible not to let words like 'permanent' cut through. And because of what waited for both of them on the other side of this. More the sheer notion of -- the waiting.

This place gave and took people at a whim. Patricia was a raw, recent reminder of that. It was hard to get past the notion that Wesley wasn't not far behind her. Not after what happened before.

Fred released a sigh into the fabric of his tuxedo, collecting the feel of it into her cache of memories from the night. She consciously took that moment to put the rest of her thoughts away.

"Slay me, really? Those are awfully big fighting words. Are you so sure you can live up to them?"

no thinking for a little while

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