ringing in the new year

[beastkeeper]

For the most part, the beginning of every new year on the block is the same. There's the party, held down in the common room (barely distinguishable from the lobby, but hey, who cares), and the reminders that go up in the week prior, telling people to bring food to share (not that everyone does — the witch provides more than enough, anyhow). There are, of course, smaller parties, held in the apartments upstairs or on the grounds, and the combinations of creatures always rotates (more or less), but the overall air remains the same. The end of one year and the ushering in of another is cause to celebrate.

Comments

[striping]

[There is nothing about Ladybird that unnerves Josias, and never did. Closeness is generally something he prefers, especially with a pretty face like Ladybird's. He lifts his free hand to brush the backs of his fingers over her cheek.]

I could have a show from you any time of the year. [It wasn't true, not entirely. They were both fickle creatures, and more often than not, their moods would clash rather than match up. Maybe he says it to be cruel, but it's more likely his ego that makes him want to point out all the ways he stands as special to Ladybird.] Do you like fireworks?

[wishrot]

[ She gives something of a sigh when he indulges her a touch. Her bare feet curl against the pitted surface of the roofface, their soles much too cold to feel just how rough it is beneath the uncallused skin there. Her teeth give a musical little chatter and it's almost chitinous, like the flapping of beetle's wings. All the cold is making her a bit drowsy and so when she looks at him, her lids are heavy and her look langorous. Her mouth forms a petulant little pout. ]

Any time of year so long as I want to, [ she corrects with a huff that dissipates as quickly as warm breath into cold air. He's giving her attention, after all, and that's all she really wants right now. So she'll play along. She leans into him with the whole of her tiny body, her small hands scuttling up the front of his coat, trying to worm their way inside. ] I like pretty things and sparkle, you know that. And fireworks do qualify, don't they?

[striping]

Qualify. [He considers it, touching her hair lightly.] The very paragon.

[And he liked pretty, sparkly things just as much, though he tended to treat them more gently than Ladybird. Not that she couldn't be utterly sweet, coaxing, but that sweetness hid her intentions, and Josias knew it. At least his manner - as cruel as it could turn - was honest. He settles his hand down at the curve of her back, holding her close.]

All the better, I'd say, for how fleeting they are.

[wishrot]

[ Ladybird dips her chin, making her eyes large and beguiling, though there's an obvious ploy to it, like she means the pantomime to show clearly through. There was no hiding her true nature from Josias, she had been far too eager to show it to him when he first arrived, and his face had proven far too handsome, his shoulders much too broad, for her to allow him to fall into ruin so quickly. No, as long as his comeliness and cattiness remained, the St. John boy would be immune to the worst of her ladybug charms. Still, she bats her eyelashes at him. ]

I'm pretty and have just as much sparkle, Josias, [ she tells him, petulantly. Ladybird lifts a finger and taps it against the round of his chin. ] Don't you dare tell me I'm fleeting too.

[ A joke, really, given how flighty she could be. But no worse than him.

[striping]

Fleeting. [He rises to the challenge, of course. A dare in jest or a dare in truth, Josias would meet it, and he certainly wasn't going to leave such an obvious untruth hanging. Sharp in his honesty, even as he continues holding her close, tilts his head to kiss that pouting mouth, coaxed in by her fluttering lashes. He smiles as he pulls back, teeth white, turning to lift his glass and drain the last of the whiskey in it.]

As fleeting as we can be, in this cage of ours. [A hint of anger underlying the words, but it's as soft as he can manage when talking on their circumstances.]

[wishrot]

[ His bottom lip is wet with whiskey in the moments that follow emptying his glass and Ladybird is quick to dart forward and claim those ethyl leavings for herself. It makes the inside of her mouth burn but not in the way his kisses had done and so Ladybird makes a noise through her nose. Dissatisfied and impatient she curls both her hands into his lapels. ]

No sulking, tiger, [ she's quick to say, though Ladybird knows that what she says doesn't matter — he will or he won't, regardless. ] You'll ruin the show.

[striping]

I've no intention of sulking, Ladybird. [It would be easy to turn to one, though. A new year should be a celebration, but why celebrate another year stuck in this place? He lets go of her, a little abruptly, scooping up the bottle of whiskey and turning, neatly, to hop up onto the ledge.]

How can I sulk, hm? A clear night, fireworks on the way. [He pours out another finger or two of whiskey into the glass, then gives a tip of the bottle in her direction, a tilted smile.] Beautiful company.

[wishrot]

[ She gives a little hmphf when he lets go of her and finds himself a new perch. Though it's tempting to get her bare feet off the graveled surface of the roof itself, Ladybird knows that the poured concrete of the ledge will be twice as cold and that her sundress, whipping about lazily around her knees, will have very little protection to offer. She turns to lean on him instead, the faintest of weights draped against his back, so light as to be barely even there unless he's paying very close attention. ]

I trust you'd be able to find a way, if you put your mind to it, [ she sighs, a hand sliding (no, tiptoeing; no, scuttling) along the sleeve of his jacket. Her mouth is warm against the shell of his ear; his ear is cold, in turn, against her mouth. ] Have you any resolutions? [ A pause and she giggles, making her teeth chatter again. ]

Wishes.

[striping]

[He feels her hand against his sleeve, but doesn't turn. Looking out over the city - what little can be seen from here, and oh how he does miss the views from his father's offices, the various penthouse suites he's stayed in, the time he'd bought his way onto the London eye at night. He drinks another mouthful of the whiskey.]

I've never been one to make resolutions. [It had never made much sense to him, to make them on this one day, as if that would improve your chances of keeping to them. If you needed to change something in your life, you went out and changed it - you didn't wait for the year to tell you when you could. He glances back at her.] Even if I did, I would know not to share them with you.