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]

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.