eclecticmuses December: Picture prompt
http://i35.tinypic.com/2a77xbp.jpg
A/N: Pollux here is wizard_dark, used with permission. Simon is simonarchangel, used with, a, long-ago discussion/permission. Time-wise, this is the first Christmas after Svetla and Pollux met, before the destruction of Archangel. Also, the two muns are going on a calorie-counting gig and this is a fair replacement for a day's dose of chocolate - read at your own, and your own teeth's, risk.
The presents started showing up by her room days before Christmas.
There was enough satisfaction in Simon that Svetlana had no doubt he was helping out, but also enough no-lying for her to know that they weren't from him.
She did know whom they were from.
A dress. It was cream, and burgundy, and gold, and both in-season and something that could be worn on any occasion formal enough. Finer than anything she owned, until then.
A hair clip, functional but also fine and pretty.
A pair of earrings, gold with tiny red stones and tiny diamonds that made her breath catch - for how pretty they were - and then hold until there was something else the next morning and the earrings didn't mean an elaborate, remote good-bye (she did know he was marveling at what was happening and thinking she might be better off away from him, even if that was rare and feeble, compared to his joy when she was near. She didn't allow herself to worry just at a present without commentary - he wouldn't do that - but she held her breath. Maybe it was this plenty, and this thoughtfulness, and all the eagerness to please her that contributed to that).
A necklace matching the earrings and going perfectly with the dress's neckline, rather than clashing.
Shoes to match the dress, and how well they fit? Must definitely have been Simon's assistance.
Not that she objected. By this point, she was feeling like a pampered princess every time her eyes fell on the laid-out presents, and her heart was warm enough to defy any storm howling outside.
And then he showed up himself. On Christmas eve.
She was wrapping up something for some of the children still. One of them who had needed Healing, and her brother. It was afternoon, and he just knocked on her door as though it was the most expected thing in the world, and she had to barely look towards the door to recognize who was on the other side, and she gave a little pleased cry of surprise and almost ran to let him in, smiling what felt like from ear to ear. Wrapping her arms around him and pulling him in and holding him, just still, for long moments before pulling as much as an arm away, to push the door shut.
This close. Having him this close, here, battered, tired, smiling, amused, chilled, warm, all right, as happy as she felt with an added smugness for succeeding to surprise her like this... It was a dream come true. It had been weeks. It was perfect.
Later, way later, there were words.
Slightly self-ironic formality. "Will you do me the honor of accompanying me to the Christmas Eve gala tonight?"
She blinked, but his self-assurance about asking that meant he already had tickets, and that meant Simon was probably helping out with that too.
"It would be my pleasure."
And, later, "will you not be missed? Christmas if a family celebration..." And his family was a tight, close one.
"With the little ones coming, there's plenty enough people to fuss over, they can skip my part of that." Fingers running, long and gentle, up her cheekbone and into her hair, then back down and caressing up again. Holding her against himself, arms and essence embracing her equally willingly, welcomingly, happily. "And they know where I am, and that I'm even happier here, now. It's been a long time since they last saw me get into the 'Christmas spirit' as willingly. They worry less right now than if were at home."
She nestled her cheek against his shoulder. Softly. "Thank you."
"Thank you." She hid her smile and didn't press that.
Her present for him had been prepared but not yet wrapped. One of Simon's people had said she was traveling to Boston through the Nevernever the day after Christmas, so she was hoping to send it with her. It would have gotten there quicker, and gave her a chance to add something if she could think of it, and she wanted to, considering all he had done. As it was - a set of engraved ingredients jars, and a glow-in-the-dark paperweight (dolphins per se might not have been quite fully what was fitting for him, but it had been the most beautiful of the figurines) - she was going to prepare and send with him as he returned home. She did show it to him, and he smiled and said he liked it. Didn't let her apologize for it being humbler than his... she hadn't expected him to, either.
"I'll leave you to get ready. Will an hour be enough?"
Svetla opened her mouth to object that it was too much, and then thought better of it and smiled instead. "It will be." She reached up and kissed his lips softly, eyes warm on him, taking him in fully - the soft, almost eager anticipation on his face, in his eyes. The quiet, surprised, soothing contentment within. "I will be ready."
She actually put the full ensemble all together on for the first time. Carefully. Fully making use of the entire hour, and each thing she did, each way she prepared herself, made her happier, more content, gladder. He was here. This was for him.
When she did meet him, his own appearance had been groomed to match hers, festive. The trim, sharp lines of the suit looked feching on his lean frame - though not quite as good as the smile on his face; and the familiar warming, sparkling of his blob was more than ever before. As if she was glowing (then again, she felt like she was too, this was... better than any dream she'd had) and he was reflecting that. She did know his eyes were alight, and his essence was alight, and then she put her hand in his and he raised it to his lips and the kiss lingered there...
"Pollux... you are the best present of all I've ever gotten - for Christmas, or ever."
His lips quirked up, helplessly, and he actually blushed. She tightened her fingers around his. This is real.
The warm, confuzzled, happy feeling didn't go away through the evening, when the conversation, soft, and cheerful, and light (with occasional downswings, but that was all right. The wound inside was bleeding less, not quite all the time, as it once had, but it was there nonetheless and would gush, sharply and painfully, now and again. But she knew how to soothe him when that happened, and he let her). Eventually, they were heading back, on the road through the snowdrifts, her hand in his, eyes and minds more on each other than on where they were going. And then he asked her what she would, next. Going back to Archangel, or going to a hotel room somewhere. Sleeping, talking... whatever she pleased. Even seeing her off back home and leaving her on her own.
For a moment, she almost panicked, because she wanted... most of those. Not parting, not yet!, but the rest.
Instead of answering immediately, though, just so that she had time to think, she tugged at his hand, and when he made to follow, pulled him right into an expanse of fresh snow.
"What?"
"When was the last time you made snow angels?"
"Made snow--"
"Right. When was the last time you even thought of snow angels?"
"Well, literally just before we came in for the show, with snow all over your coat and eyelashes and--"
She laughed, and it was probably way too dark to see the blush, but she did raise her gloved finger and press it against his lips.
"Oh, of this kind? A... a long time ago."
Her Sight let her know he was suddenly stirring up, and took action before he got distracted. She leaned against him slightly, so he'd be forced to resist her, then suddenly pulled, which resulted with both of them in the drift. Oh so close to his ear, she said softly. "Snow angels making. Next in the order of things for the evening."
So they did. And they fought with snowballs, a little. And they kissed, cold cheeks pressed together and warm breaths mingling in the chill.
And then they found a way to a room with a fireplace, and bearskin laid out before it, which made his wry humor flash for a bit and her run her fingers over where he'd been mauled by that werebear in the summer, through his clothes.
They didn't sleep much, and they talked and cuddled, warm and content, and kissed a little - all through the night (or what was left of it). and in the morning they had breakfast in a place which featured (and served tea from) one of those olden teapots which looked ridiculous except for the part where the tea was delicious.
Then he did see her off to Archangel. To her room, where he got to pick up her presents for him, then turned to her again, soft, and warm, and a little sad, his palm cupping her cheek, a little touch but as good as an embrace, with all it had in it, and she knew he was going away now, but it was alright. They'd see each other again.
"Merry Christmas." One could have expected that after talking through the night, his voice would have grown coarse, but no, it still had that fluid, deep, moving quality to it and it gave her a fuzzy feeling again. Just that easy, with just two words.
"It already is. Better than I've ever had. You are a very rare person, Pollux DuMorne." Another kiss, and another embrace, this time so tight as to be actually clinging to each other.
And soon he was gone.
(She still got to sneak in a few presents under the big tree in Simon's common room before the kids were all up and about. It was a truly miracle-touched Christmas. Or maybe her head was just still spinning. Not that she wanted it to stop.)
A/N: Pollux here is wizard_dark, used with permission. Simon is simonarchangel, used with, a, long-ago discussion/permission. Time-wise, this is the first Christmas after Svetla and Pollux met, before the destruction of Archangel. Also, the two muns are going on a calorie-counting gig and this is a fair replacement for a day's dose of chocolate - read at your own, and your own teeth's, risk.
The presents started showing up by her room days before Christmas.
There was enough satisfaction in Simon that Svetlana had no doubt he was helping out, but also enough no-lying for her to know that they weren't from him.
She did know whom they were from.
A dress. It was cream, and burgundy, and gold, and both in-season and something that could be worn on any occasion formal enough. Finer than anything she owned, until then.
A hair clip, functional but also fine and pretty.
A pair of earrings, gold with tiny red stones and tiny diamonds that made her breath catch - for how pretty they were - and then hold until there was something else the next morning and the earrings didn't mean an elaborate, remote good-bye (she did know he was marveling at what was happening and thinking she might be better off away from him, even if that was rare and feeble, compared to his joy when she was near. She didn't allow herself to worry just at a present without commentary - he wouldn't do that - but she held her breath. Maybe it was this plenty, and this thoughtfulness, and all the eagerness to please her that contributed to that).
A necklace matching the earrings and going perfectly with the dress's neckline, rather than clashing.
Shoes to match the dress, and how well they fit? Must definitely have been Simon's assistance.
Not that she objected. By this point, she was feeling like a pampered princess every time her eyes fell on the laid-out presents, and her heart was warm enough to defy any storm howling outside.
And then he showed up himself. On Christmas eve.
She was wrapping up something for some of the children still. One of them who had needed Healing, and her brother. It was afternoon, and he just knocked on her door as though it was the most expected thing in the world, and she had to barely look towards the door to recognize who was on the other side, and she gave a little pleased cry of surprise and almost ran to let him in, smiling what felt like from ear to ear. Wrapping her arms around him and pulling him in and holding him, just still, for long moments before pulling as much as an arm away, to push the door shut.
This close. Having him this close, here, battered, tired, smiling, amused, chilled, warm, all right, as happy as she felt with an added smugness for succeeding to surprise her like this... It was a dream come true. It had been weeks. It was perfect.
Later, way later, there were words.
Slightly self-ironic formality. "Will you do me the honor of accompanying me to the Christmas Eve gala tonight?"
She blinked, but his self-assurance about asking that meant he already had tickets, and that meant Simon was probably helping out with that too.
"It would be my pleasure."
And, later, "will you not be missed? Christmas if a family celebration..." And his family was a tight, close one.
"With the little ones coming, there's plenty enough people to fuss over, they can skip my part of that." Fingers running, long and gentle, up her cheekbone and into her hair, then back down and caressing up again. Holding her against himself, arms and essence embracing her equally willingly, welcomingly, happily. "And they know where I am, and that I'm even happier here, now. It's been a long time since they last saw me get into the 'Christmas spirit' as willingly. They worry less right now than if were at home."
She nestled her cheek against his shoulder. Softly. "Thank you."
"Thank you." She hid her smile and didn't press that.
Her present for him had been prepared but not yet wrapped. One of Simon's people had said she was traveling to Boston through the Nevernever the day after Christmas, so she was hoping to send it with her. It would have gotten there quicker, and gave her a chance to add something if she could think of it, and she wanted to, considering all he had done. As it was - a set of engraved ingredients jars, and a glow-in-the-dark paperweight (dolphins per se might not have been quite fully what was fitting for him, but it had been the most beautiful of the figurines) - she was going to prepare and send with him as he returned home. She did show it to him, and he smiled and said he liked it. Didn't let her apologize for it being humbler than his... she hadn't expected him to, either.
"I'll leave you to get ready. Will an hour be enough?"
Svetla opened her mouth to object that it was too much, and then thought better of it and smiled instead. "It will be." She reached up and kissed his lips softly, eyes warm on him, taking him in fully - the soft, almost eager anticipation on his face, in his eyes. The quiet, surprised, soothing contentment within. "I will be ready."
She actually put the full ensemble all together on for the first time. Carefully. Fully making use of the entire hour, and each thing she did, each way she prepared herself, made her happier, more content, gladder. He was here. This was for him.
When she did meet him, his own appearance had been groomed to match hers, festive. The trim, sharp lines of the suit looked feching on his lean frame - though not quite as good as the smile on his face; and the familiar warming, sparkling of his blob was more than ever before. As if she was glowing (then again, she felt like she was too, this was... better than any dream she'd had) and he was reflecting that. She did know his eyes were alight, and his essence was alight, and then she put her hand in his and he raised it to his lips and the kiss lingered there...
"Pollux... you are the best present of all I've ever gotten - for Christmas, or ever."
His lips quirked up, helplessly, and he actually blushed. She tightened her fingers around his. This is real.
The warm, confuzzled, happy feeling didn't go away through the evening, when the conversation, soft, and cheerful, and light (with occasional downswings, but that was all right. The wound inside was bleeding less, not quite all the time, as it once had, but it was there nonetheless and would gush, sharply and painfully, now and again. But she knew how to soothe him when that happened, and he let her). Eventually, they were heading back, on the road through the snowdrifts, her hand in his, eyes and minds more on each other than on where they were going. And then he asked her what she would, next. Going back to Archangel, or going to a hotel room somewhere. Sleeping, talking... whatever she pleased. Even seeing her off back home and leaving her on her own.
For a moment, she almost panicked, because she wanted... most of those. Not parting, not yet!, but the rest.
Instead of answering immediately, though, just so that she had time to think, she tugged at his hand, and when he made to follow, pulled him right into an expanse of fresh snow.
"What?"
"When was the last time you made snow angels?"
"Made snow--"
"Right. When was the last time you even thought of snow angels?"
"Well, literally just before we came in for the show, with snow all over your coat and eyelashes and--"
She laughed, and it was probably way too dark to see the blush, but she did raise her gloved finger and press it against his lips.
"Oh, of this kind? A... a long time ago."
Her Sight let her know he was suddenly stirring up, and took action before he got distracted. She leaned against him slightly, so he'd be forced to resist her, then suddenly pulled, which resulted with both of them in the drift. Oh so close to his ear, she said softly. "Snow angels making. Next in the order of things for the evening."
So they did. And they fought with snowballs, a little. And they kissed, cold cheeks pressed together and warm breaths mingling in the chill.
And then they found a way to a room with a fireplace, and bearskin laid out before it, which made his wry humor flash for a bit and her run her fingers over where he'd been mauled by that werebear in the summer, through his clothes.
They didn't sleep much, and they talked and cuddled, warm and content, and kissed a little - all through the night (or what was left of it). and in the morning they had breakfast in a place which featured (and served tea from) one of those olden teapots which looked ridiculous except for the part where the tea was delicious.
Then he did see her off to Archangel. To her room, where he got to pick up her presents for him, then turned to her again, soft, and warm, and a little sad, his palm cupping her cheek, a little touch but as good as an embrace, with all it had in it, and she knew he was going away now, but it was alright. They'd see each other again.
"Merry Christmas." One could have expected that after talking through the night, his voice would have grown coarse, but no, it still had that fluid, deep, moving quality to it and it gave her a fuzzy feeling again. Just that easy, with just two words.
"It already is. Better than I've ever had. You are a very rare person, Pollux DuMorne." Another kiss, and another embrace, this time so tight as to be actually clinging to each other.
And soon he was gone.
(She still got to sneak in a few presents under the big tree in Simon's common room before the kids were all up and about. It was a truly miracle-touched Christmas. Or maybe her head was just still spinning. Not that she wanted it to stop.)