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

COLTON | common room

[paresthesia]

[ It's not his first year here — ringing in his third, actually — but it's easy to mistake him for a new kid on the block. Colton's not drinking because he never drinks (well, that's not strictly true. Sully's a bad influence and yeah, that's Colton's story and he's sticking to it.) He tried for the first few months here to just wear gloves and shoes and hoodies all the time, but over the years Colton's just developed a system of avoidance. Kind of annoying when it comes to parties, being the last one to wander over to the table with all the food, but a lot better than the alternative.

It's been a good twenty minutes for the first rush of people to die down. Long enough, Colton thinks, which might explain why he doesn't bother to look both ways before reaching for one of those cubes of cheese skewered by a toothpick. The back of his hand brushes against something warm— it takes him a beat to realize that he's brushed his hand against someone else's (and not, say, a tub of fondue).

After that, the words come tumbling out of his mouth in a hurry. ]

I am so sorry, that was all me, I'm so— Are you okay? How bad is it? Do I need to go find Jordan?

[gilt]

[ It hurts, of course. (It always hurts.) But Iseult wouldn't be where she is now, living the life that she has, if she didn't have at least some considerable tolerance to things like pain. What would easily have sent someone else reeling simply delivers a sharp jolt up the length of her arm as her nerve endings all suddenly stand at attention, the electrical spark of pain, abort still dancing along her neurological pathways.

Her whole arm twitches and the small dish of assorted odds and ends clatters to the face of the table as she gathers her hand to herself, wincing only faintly. When she sees who it is, though, and hears his ready apology, Iseult's expression changes — goes soft and kind and forgiving when she looks at him. She gives a small shake of her head, her hair shivering down the length of her back and over her shoulders in thick red waves. Her voice, when she speaks, is sweet and calming — Circe's gift lulling him — not completely, but just enough to get him to stop apologizing. ]

Hello, Colton, [ she says with her smile. ] You needn't worry. I'm alright, look.

[ Carefully, Iseult extends her hand. The skin where his fingers had brushed hers is red and irate as if recently slapped, but otherwise without blemish. ]

[paresthesia]

[ His tongue feels clumsy in his mouth. Colton wants to say something like no, you're not alright and I'm sorry I wasn't looking simply because he wasn't. (If it's any bit as painful as the time he had Sully sit on his hand for a good hour, well— then Colton has plenty to be apologetic about.) That hand of his (all wide and no grace, the bump of bones on his knuckles and the joints on his fingers) reaches out then hovers in the air aimlessly, as if he wanted to make sure for himself and then remembered he couldn't. ]

No, it was all my fault, I'm really sorry. [ It's a slow eke, the way the sudden sense of urgency to apologize flares then dies in his chest. It doesn't mean he feels any better about it though so he does the next best thing, searches for a clean napkin and uses it as a shield between his hand and hers. The pad of his thumb presses lightly, instinctively trying to massage the feeling away.

It takes him a beat to realize that maybe Iseult doesn't want him touching her hand. Clearing his throat he lets his own hand fall, balling the napkin in his fist. ]

I've probably ruined your night, huh?

[gilt]

[ Iseult hasn't been here for very long but already she's learned a thing or two about the menagerie's inhabitants. Many were disfranchised, disillusioned or lost; others were like her (hiding from something); and others still were simply unpleasant people — drawn in by a complete lack of anything to loose or compelled and coerced by the promise of power. Colton is none of those things, she wagers, for his manner is too eager and his heart is too kind and part of her feels almost guilty in beguiling him (though in truth, that guilt is but a whisper in the back of her mind).

Still, his effort is touching and his fluster endears him to her almost immediately. She offers an expression large-eyed and blush-cheeked, her hand still hovering in the space between them long after his own hand falls away. Iseult leaves it there to show him that she does not begrudge his touching her and that, perhaps, yes, he is still welcome to touch her still in such a way.

Her smile is reassuring. ]

Does it look ruined to you? [ she asks. It is a rhetorical question, of course. Iseult's eyes are nothing if not fond. ]

[paresthesia]

I don't know. Maybe. [ Colton scratches the back of his neck. There's a lilt to his voice that makes it sound like half a question, as if he's not sure (because she looks okay but it must hurt, right? There are people who are good at disguising— that kind of thing?)

A beat follows. It's not particularly awkward but it's stubbornly weighted all the same — there's music and it's loud and it'd be just as easy to turn back into the crowd but Colton doesn't. Instead he shifts his weight, uneasy and unsure, his eyes darting around the room as if he's looking for some way to make it up to her. In the end, he settles on a peace offering. Someone's left behind one of those plastic new year hats to the left of the finger sandwiches and he (after a tentative sniff) claims it as his own, placing it lightly on Iseult's head. ]

Um— Happy New Year, Iseult.

[fluffiest]

[ it hurts, but the thing is that sylvia refuses to show it on her face. colton doesn't want to hear about how touching her caused pain. besides, it's nothing in the grand scheme of things. if he had choked her or done anything else heinous then she'd be a bit more upset. instead she just smiles and grabs a napkin to separate her skin from his before taking his hand and shaking her head. ]

That was not just you, I was the one who saw your hand and thought I could sneak past it. It's fine, I promise. Still about as functional as it was before and definitely not in need of Jordan's assistance. Would you like to see it to make sure or do you believe me? [ her voice isn't like iseult's but she likes to think it has some calming effect on him, if only because she thinks that's what he needs right now. ]