10 Sep 2024, 22:07
Carried Away
[quote]
[quote]
August 2, 2024 – Immediately Following the Disastrous Mistletoe Spin
Stephen was a man on a mission. Well, not precisely, because missions, as he knew them, were well thought out and meticulously planned. They were executed with a fairly predictable outcome in mind. That was not the case here any longer. Everything he had planned and envisioned for how he saw this evening ending was completely shattered mere minutes earlier when EmmaLee spoke her words of truth to him on the dance floor before being whisked away to her next dance partner. She was whisked away before he even had a chance to respond to a single word she had said, but not so quickly whisked away for him to miss seeing the pain in her eyes or hearing the hurt in her voice. She had looked as if she could cry for the next however many minutes or hours or days girls did such things.
How could he just let that go unanswered? Answer: He couldn’t.
All he was clear on when they were both moved along by the enchanted dance floor to their next dance partners was that he had to do something. His normal go to of sitting back and analyzing every little variable was, as best he could figure it, part of the problem, so he was absolutely tossing that aside as an option. What it came down to was instinct and not intellect. He’d wanted to follow her, but had been unable to. The moment the opportunity presented itself for him to do so, however, he abandoned his new dance partner, Zophyr, with a decent modicum of shame and apologies for being so rude, but he truly had no choice. Everything in him in those moments said, “Go get her!”
So that is exactly what he did.
The moment he swept her off of her feet and up into his arms, physically removing her from not only her then dance partner, but from the dance altogether, he heard her surprised squeak and felt the tense rigidity of her body in his arms. He was vaguely aware that her arms hurriedly hooked themselves around his shoulders as he carried her away from the brightness of the Mistletoe Spin and into the darkness of night cloaking the camp, but pretty much everything else that followed in the next couple of minutes became a blur.
He didn’t know what to say just yet, so he said nothing, as speaking was not the immediate task before him. Nor did he have clue one where he was taking her. To any interested eyes witnessing him carrying the petite girl away to who knows what fate, it would not be up for debate that he was doing so with nothing short of steely, purposeful, self-determination.
He clenched his jaw tightly and kept his eyes forward, not daring to look her way at all. He half expected that she would pitch some sort of fit at the indignity and impropriety of being carted off without so much as even a ‘Mother may I?’ having been granted, giving him permission to lay his hands on her. Welp. It was too late now to do anything but accept the consequences of his actions. If Stephen was burning all of his bridges with her right then, they, by God, were going to burn on a scale of biblical proportions, turning starry night into flaming hell before transforming into the inevitable ash heaps that would dust and suffocate his heart. Then he could figure out for himself in the fallout afterwards how many minutes or hours or days boys mourned such a metaphorical death themselves.
He was preparing himself for anything and everything between her pummeling her fists into his face to screaming at the top of her lungs that she was being abducted. What he had not predicted was her silence, or her face buried in the crook of his neck as her small frame trembled against him. Great. Now he could add scaring her to his long list of transgressions. He was unable to hear her muffled sobs as his own thoughts were clamoring violently against one another in a most cacophonous riot as they vied for his attention, but he was eventually aware of the dampness seeping through his collar to his neck. Silent tears, yes, but a thunderous indictment all the same.
Still, he walked on in silence, taking long, fast strides to an unknown destination. EmmaLee continued to tremble, even as the voluminous folds of her skirt whispered against each other and flounced over his forearm and wrist with each step he took. Then her body wracked more violently in his arms than it had previously, and he instinctively drew her closer. It suddenly penetrated his consciousness what the summer camp theme was, and he knew in an instant at least some of what she was likely experiencing, so the answer he had been seeking was found. He knew where he would take her.
He headed for the darkened stone circle near the Quidditch hoops. It was where the bonfire had been held the first night of camp, but it was abandoned now. That was both a relief and a concern. Relief because they would have some privacy; concern because it might take a bit for her to warm up. He only wanted a few moments of her time without giving her frostbite or pneumonia if that was at all humanly possible.
His impeccably polished boots stopped just millimeters in front of a couple of bonfire stones as he took a deep breath in, clearing his mind while relaxing his own tense body. EmmaLee had not lifted her head, but he felt her tense even more within his arms as he rested his cheek lightly against her hair, his lips impossibly close to her ear. “We need to talk, and by we, I mean me, at least for the next few minutes. I can’t do that if I think you’re going to freeze to death, so I’m going to do two things for certain, and possibly a third. The third thing happening will be entirely dependent upon you, however,” he whispered, watching as the vapor in his warmed breath condensed into miniscule droplets of water and tracked a beautifully icy path across the air above her exposed skin.
They both raised their heads together at the conclusion of his last sentence. Peripherally, he was aware of EmmaLee looking at him, but he purposefully turned his gaze away and looked more closely at the fire pit. There was wood in it. Thank goodness. At least one thing was favoring him this evening.
Stephen began to speak again, still not looking at her. “The first thing I’m going to do is to set you down. The second thing I’m going to do is to give you my heavy, woolen coat to wear before I start a fire. The third thing I will most assuredly do is to chase after you if you ill advisedly decide to run away. And you know I’ll catch you, so you may as well stay here and listen.” He swallowed hard. His voice had been gentle but firm. Any sign of his normal, lighthearted disposition had been left somewhere in time on an enchanted dance floor at the other end of camp. In its place was a decidedly more sober young man.
He took another deep breath and braced himself for whatever he was about to read written on her face. Stephen finally leveled his gaze upon her for the first time in minutes and asked, “What do you say, EmmaLee? Will you hear me out?”
@EmmaLee LeDames @Mahlioz Evethisawe
[quote]
August 2, 2024 – Immediately Following the Disastrous Mistletoe Spin
Stephen was a man on a mission. Well, not precisely, because missions, as he knew them, were well thought out and meticulously planned. They were executed with a fairly predictable outcome in mind. That was not the case here any longer. Everything he had planned and envisioned for how he saw this evening ending was completely shattered mere minutes earlier when EmmaLee spoke her words of truth to him on the dance floor before being whisked away to her next dance partner. She was whisked away before he even had a chance to respond to a single word she had said, but not so quickly whisked away for him to miss seeing the pain in her eyes or hearing the hurt in her voice. She had looked as if she could cry for the next however many minutes or hours or days girls did such things.
How could he just let that go unanswered? Answer: He couldn’t.
All he was clear on when they were both moved along by the enchanted dance floor to their next dance partners was that he had to do something. His normal go to of sitting back and analyzing every little variable was, as best he could figure it, part of the problem, so he was absolutely tossing that aside as an option. What it came down to was instinct and not intellect. He’d wanted to follow her, but had been unable to. The moment the opportunity presented itself for him to do so, however, he abandoned his new dance partner, Zophyr, with a decent modicum of shame and apologies for being so rude, but he truly had no choice. Everything in him in those moments said, “Go get her!”
So that is exactly what he did.
The moment he swept her off of her feet and up into his arms, physically removing her from not only her then dance partner, but from the dance altogether, he heard her surprised squeak and felt the tense rigidity of her body in his arms. He was vaguely aware that her arms hurriedly hooked themselves around his shoulders as he carried her away from the brightness of the Mistletoe Spin and into the darkness of night cloaking the camp, but pretty much everything else that followed in the next couple of minutes became a blur.
He didn’t know what to say just yet, so he said nothing, as speaking was not the immediate task before him. Nor did he have clue one where he was taking her. To any interested eyes witnessing him carrying the petite girl away to who knows what fate, it would not be up for debate that he was doing so with nothing short of steely, purposeful, self-determination.
He clenched his jaw tightly and kept his eyes forward, not daring to look her way at all. He half expected that she would pitch some sort of fit at the indignity and impropriety of being carted off without so much as even a ‘Mother may I?’ having been granted, giving him permission to lay his hands on her. Welp. It was too late now to do anything but accept the consequences of his actions. If Stephen was burning all of his bridges with her right then, they, by God, were going to burn on a scale of biblical proportions, turning starry night into flaming hell before transforming into the inevitable ash heaps that would dust and suffocate his heart. Then he could figure out for himself in the fallout afterwards how many minutes or hours or days boys mourned such a metaphorical death themselves.
He was preparing himself for anything and everything between her pummeling her fists into his face to screaming at the top of her lungs that she was being abducted. What he had not predicted was her silence, or her face buried in the crook of his neck as her small frame trembled against him. Great. Now he could add scaring her to his long list of transgressions. He was unable to hear her muffled sobs as his own thoughts were clamoring violently against one another in a most cacophonous riot as they vied for his attention, but he was eventually aware of the dampness seeping through his collar to his neck. Silent tears, yes, but a thunderous indictment all the same.
Still, he walked on in silence, taking long, fast strides to an unknown destination. EmmaLee continued to tremble, even as the voluminous folds of her skirt whispered against each other and flounced over his forearm and wrist with each step he took. Then her body wracked more violently in his arms than it had previously, and he instinctively drew her closer. It suddenly penetrated his consciousness what the summer camp theme was, and he knew in an instant at least some of what she was likely experiencing, so the answer he had been seeking was found. He knew where he would take her.
He headed for the darkened stone circle near the Quidditch hoops. It was where the bonfire had been held the first night of camp, but it was abandoned now. That was both a relief and a concern. Relief because they would have some privacy; concern because it might take a bit for her to warm up. He only wanted a few moments of her time without giving her frostbite or pneumonia if that was at all humanly possible.
His impeccably polished boots stopped just millimeters in front of a couple of bonfire stones as he took a deep breath in, clearing his mind while relaxing his own tense body. EmmaLee had not lifted her head, but he felt her tense even more within his arms as he rested his cheek lightly against her hair, his lips impossibly close to her ear. “We need to talk, and by we, I mean me, at least for the next few minutes. I can’t do that if I think you’re going to freeze to death, so I’m going to do two things for certain, and possibly a third. The third thing happening will be entirely dependent upon you, however,” he whispered, watching as the vapor in his warmed breath condensed into miniscule droplets of water and tracked a beautifully icy path across the air above her exposed skin.
They both raised their heads together at the conclusion of his last sentence. Peripherally, he was aware of EmmaLee looking at him, but he purposefully turned his gaze away and looked more closely at the fire pit. There was wood in it. Thank goodness. At least one thing was favoring him this evening.
Stephen began to speak again, still not looking at her. “The first thing I’m going to do is to set you down. The second thing I’m going to do is to give you my heavy, woolen coat to wear before I start a fire. The third thing I will most assuredly do is to chase after you if you ill advisedly decide to run away. And you know I’ll catch you, so you may as well stay here and listen.” He swallowed hard. His voice had been gentle but firm. Any sign of his normal, lighthearted disposition had been left somewhere in time on an enchanted dance floor at the other end of camp. In its place was a decidedly more sober young man.
He took another deep breath and braced himself for whatever he was about to read written on her face. Stephen finally leveled his gaze upon her for the first time in minutes and asked, “What do you say, EmmaLee? Will you hear me out?”
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----- ------- Reducio
EmmaLee and AngelFyre's writers have longstanding permission to godmod one another's characters.
@EmmaLee LeDames @Mahlioz Evethisawe
Last edited by AngelFyre McCubbin on 9 Dec 2024, 13:20, edited 1 time in total.
The magic is real.
13 Sep 2024, 00:41
Carried Away
Biometrics: 5'. Wavy, white hair down to her mid-thigh. Blue eyes. A spattering of freckles across her nose.
Date: August 2, 2024 | Time: Evening | WC: 1199
Language: French – English – Spanish – Japanese
Interacting with: Stephen Schwartz (@AngelFyre McCubbin) | Mentioning:
Date: August 2, 2024 | Time: Evening | WC: 1199
Language: French – English – Spanish – Japanese
Interacting with: Stephen Schwartz (@AngelFyre McCubbin) | Mentioning:
As Stephen carried EmmaLee off of the warm dance floor and out into the night, EmmaLee looked up at his thoughtful, determined face. She had once thought that she would follow him to the moon if he bid it, and that sentiment still held true. While she was rather confused by the manner by which they left, why he had abruptly picked her up and carried her away she didn't know, EmmaLee had very little objection to going anywhere with Stephen for as long as she could still go, especially considering that that might not be much longer depending on how this conversation went. Just because he had marched over and carried her off to presumably continue the conversation she had started, didn't mean it was going to end positively.
It was quite one thing to believe that someone didn't return your feelings, and quite another thing to be rejected right out, and at this point, EmmaLee wasn't sure she could bear it and remain his friend. Maybe after a while, once the wound had healed, but not now. She really would need time and who knows if he would be waiting for their friendship when, if she tried to come back. EmmaLee tried to swallow another growing lump in her throat at the prospect of losing him completely but ended up making a deep in her chest, kind of muffled, sobbing noise instead as the lump refused to go down.
Quite against her will, EmmaLee could feel tears stream down her cheeks again and she did her best to hide her face in the crook of Stephen's neck. She was afraid to wipe her face with her hand, lest she upset Stephen's balance and send them both to the snowy ground. Why was she such a sopping baby? It seemed that all she could do in this relationship, a friendship is a relationship, was let her emotions run completely wild over her brain and ruin half the things they tried to do together. She'd missed their first ball completely because she'd let silly nightmares disturb her sleep instead of doing the logical thing and getting a calming drought from the nurse in the first place, she'd almost missed her chance to go to the second ball with him because she blew that missed letter out of proportion and made assumptions about his feelings, and here she was now, blubbering again. Maybe she should have just stayed home and focused on reeling in her feelings before seeing Stephen again, but then she would have missed hanging out with Kaya and Aurelie and Sara. She sighed quietly. There just never seemed to be a right answer.
After a while of walking, what warmth had clung to EmmaLee's skin and her clothes from the heated dance area and the exercise had dissipated and despite Stephen's warm embrace, she began to shiver slightly with the cold. She hadn't intended to go galivanting across the Quidditch Stadium and it was a short walk from warm tent to warm dance floor, so, although she had worn long sleeves, she hadn't brought a shawl or coat.
EmmaLee tried her best to wipe her face on her shoulder and peek up at Stephen's face for an indication of where they were headed and she was surprised by the look on his face. Trying not to let her mind leap to conclusions once more, she took in his tense jawline and steely expression. She shivered again and felt him hold her closer. Was he mad that she'd embarrassed him on the dancefloor with her outburst? Was he looking for someplace private because he was afraid she'd lash out again?
EmmaLee looked around as much as she could without moving much and it looked like Stephen didn't have any particular place in mind which was....odd. He was just walking directly away from the shining group of dancefloors and into the darkness. Even when he made spur of the moment decisions, like when they had walked away from the Fall Ball and he had decided not to take her to the boats, EmmaLee bit her lip to keep it from trembling at the tainted memory, he seemed four of five steps ahead of his own actions. As much as she teased him about it in her own mind, he really did always seem to have a plan, or, at least, was always forming one.
Before EmmaLee could really think about this lull in Stephen's brain too hard, he seemed to have caught up with himself and held her tighter once again as he turned to take purposeful steps in a different direction. Her eyes adjusted slowly to the growing darkness as Stephen walked towards the goal hoops, not looking at her once. EmmaLee's fingers started to pick at each other over Stephen's shoulder as she tried to discern whether he was mad or just upset. The set in his jaw suggested mad, but the way he carried her and walked with determined, but not stomping steps suggested otherwise. The further they walked into the darkness, the less she could see his face, the more she felt like a child who had thrown a temper tantrum in the middle of the grocery store.
Eventually, the pair reached Stephen's prescribed destination and Stephen stopped and took what seemed to be a calming breath, it was an odd feeling to be almost lifted with his chest, before resting his cheek against the top of her head. EmmaLee's own breath hitched at the tender gesture like she was going to cry again. Ok. Not mad. She could deal with not mad.
She shivered again as Stephen's warm breath passed over her ear and she almost didn't hear what he said. Talk. Yeah. We need to talk. As Stephen lifted his head, EmmaLee lifted hers as well to look into his face and she opened her mouth to respond or bluster more about their problems being her fault, but his gaze turning towards the dark instead of her own face made her swallow the words. She'd done her talking, and though she did have more to say, he had brought her here to respond, yes?
She watched him in the gloom as he continued with his three actions and she couldn't help but let the corner of her mouth turn up in a shade of a smile at his thought that she might run like a captured and released rabbit. Avoid him like the plague for fear of his disapproval? Yes. Run away once he had caught her? Never. He could probably carry her down into hell itself at this point and she would happily burn. As he turned his serious, determined face towards her, a look usually reserved for his sports matches, and asked if she would hear him, the only thing she could say was, "Of course."
Instinctively, she reached up and cupped his warm cheek in one of her, now chilly, hands. ~Mon cœur.~My heart. The thought flashed across her mind and her heart twisted as it left. If her heart shattered here and they never spoke again, at least she got to see their stars in his eyes one last time.
Fearless | Calming Presence | E.L. | Prodigal Transfiguration
ST: 9 | EV: 9 | STR: 3 | WI: 8 | ARC: 9 | ACC: 11
Caretaker: A. P. Finch | iNPC: Yasha V.
ST: 9 | EV: 9 | STR: 3 | WI: 8 | ARC: 9 | ACC: 11
Caretaker: A. P. Finch | iNPC: Yasha V.
21 Sep 2024, 01:48
Carried Away
[quote]
[quote]
August 2, 2024 – Immediately Following the Disastrous Mistletoe Spin
He briefly leaned into her hand on his cheek, but then quickly cleared his throat. He set her down gently, and discovered that now, all of a sudden, an invisible tractor beam had to be at work from somewhere behind those starfire eyes of hers as he was unable to break free of her gaze. A simple blink of his eyes was enough, as it turned out, so he hurriedly came to his senses and started unbuttoning his heavy, long, woolen coat.
He was too distracted by his purpose for bringing her here to even notice the sharp bite in the air, but he knew it was there. Every exhalation of his breath, visible before him, was proof of that fact. He had had the presence of mind to grab his wand out of his interior pocket, slipping it deftly in between his trousers and his high boot before he helped her slip her arms into the long coat. As she nestled snugly into the warmth that the remnants of his body heat left behind on the lining, he was glad he wouldn't have to bother her with retrieving his wand later like he had had to do 10 months earlier.
Stephen stood half a foot taller than she, maybe more. EmmaLee was a petite, mere slip of a girl. He was tall for his age and broad in the shoulders. He smiled tenderly, and unknowingly, as he rubbed his hands up and down both of her arms to give her circulation a jumpstart. She looked a little like a small, Dickensian urchin engulfed within the coat as the sleeves hung well past her fingertips.
As EmmaLee seated herself, he turned his attention to the firepit. There were logs and kindling and he made quick work of building a teepee fire. He laid out a few of the logs on the ground to give himself a dry foundation and set the kindling in the middle of those logs. Then he started fashioning some of the smaller sticks in a vertical position, looking much like a teepee shape, knowing it would be the quickest way to get airflow to the base. This would also produce a fire that would give a lot of heat quickly, and that is exactly what they needed. Stepping back to give it a once over, and satisfied with the result, he grasped his wand from his boot and incanted, “Incendio!” and watched as the green flames shot from the tip of his wand and easily lit the kindling. In no time at all, a crackling fire had come to life before them, hissing at times, and shooting out red-orange embers into the velvety dark of night around them.
The warmth reached him fairly quickly, and knowing she was sitting almost directly behind him, Stephen stepped to the side so that he was no longer blocking the heat from reaching EmmaLee.
Unsure of the best way to start, he just decided that starting was more important right now than figuring out the best technique for doing so. He stepped over to her and sat down next to her, fumbling with one of the long sleeves to find her hand, which he then clam-shelled between the both of his. When he turned his head up to meet her gaze, he did not drop it until he had finished what he had to say to her.
“EmmaLee, I’m sorry. I’m more sorry than you can ever know. I never, ever, would do anything to purposefully hurt you. I have no excuse, but I do want you to know that I haven’t been completely oblivious to occasional undercurrents pointing to something being amiss between us at times. I, literally, have no girls or women in my life, so I’ve had no relationship model and no one to talk to about whatever this is between us.”
“I’ve never had a mother or a sister. None of my friends have sisters, and their parents are divorced. My paternal grandparents are wonderful people, but they are of a generation that doesn’t really talk about this stuff. I think I know that they love each other, but I’ve never seen them hold hands or kiss. They speak with great affection to one another, but there is a distance between them in public, even with family.” He stopped long enough to take a deep breath, and then continued.
“And then there is my father. He is still in love with a woman now dead for little over 14 years,” and Stephen just continued to look at her for a moment or two in silence. “I know you know I don’t have a mother, but I’m not certain I ever told you that is because she died giving birth to me. My father has not outwardly blamed me for it, because I know he does love me, but I think he’s so caught up in his own grief that he doesn’t have the bandwidth to deal with me and my issues. Long story short there – he is not a go to for me either.”
“So, all of that said, whether you believe me or not, I knew enough to know there was something going on here, between us, that went beyond friendship. You were wrong tonight to assume that I don’t share your feelings. I don’t blame you for not knowing that, but I guess I stupidly thought hanging out with you every chance I got was evidence of that.” Then, in an effort to try and inject even a little levity into the situation he added, “I mean, I do recall sitting for precisely 8,492 minutes in the Barbiest pink tent anyone should ever have to be subjected to. Do you think I willingly wanted to have my eyeballs seared from their eyesockets for the joy of sewing, even if it did produce Gnome N. Clature, when I, I dunno,” and he shrugged his shoulders, “could have been sitting in a corner, banging my head against a wall, and shoving bamboo slivers into my nailbeds? The answer, so there are no more misunderstandings between us, is a definitive ‘No, EmmaLee. I did not,’” and he gave her a dimmer version of his usual, stadium-bright smile.
Then in a more sober tone “All I know right now is that I like you, probably more than I like anyone else I know. But, I don’t want to hurt you any more than I have. You know what occupies my mind more than anything, and that is my dream of becoming an astronaut. I now have a shot at making my dream a reality, and it is taking up every spare minute I have. I can’t let that go,” and even though he didn’t say it, the silently implied ending to that sentence was not even for you.
"When I think about an “us” I have been confused, excited, and tormented. I’m 14 years old and I worry that one of us, or both of us, is going to get hurt here if we go farther. I can’t promise you anything more than what I have been offering. This is it, EmmaLee. I live across the pond and you live here. We see each other what, three times a year? Owls are nice, but not always reliable. And time. Time is what I most would like to be able to give to you, but it is what I have the least of to give to you right now.”
“I came to the dance tonight prepared to declare myself to you, but seeing the hurt written all over your face, and hearing it in your voice, crushed me. I guess pain sometimes has a way of clarifying things. All I have to offer is just more of what we have had, but that seems to be nothing but a source of pain for you. Maybe someday it can be more, but not now. I don’t want to lose you. You have no idea how truly felt that is, but I have to be honest with you now as I can see how my silence has caused you so much hurt.”
Stephen had spoken for a long time. He had kept his eyes on EmmaLee with every word he had uttered, and he was suddenly more afraid to hear her response than he had been of anything in his whole life. The warmth of the fire was comfortable, keeping the chilly night air at bay, but there was a cold, hollow feeling, spreading from deep within his core that made him shiver as the tentacles of his thoughts led him to the obvious.
How did this night go so off the rails? He could literally have just severed their entire relationship.
[quote]
August 2, 2024 – Immediately Following the Disastrous Mistletoe Spin
He briefly leaned into her hand on his cheek, but then quickly cleared his throat. He set her down gently, and discovered that now, all of a sudden, an invisible tractor beam had to be at work from somewhere behind those starfire eyes of hers as he was unable to break free of her gaze. A simple blink of his eyes was enough, as it turned out, so he hurriedly came to his senses and started unbuttoning his heavy, long, woolen coat.
He was too distracted by his purpose for bringing her here to even notice the sharp bite in the air, but he knew it was there. Every exhalation of his breath, visible before him, was proof of that fact. He had had the presence of mind to grab his wand out of his interior pocket, slipping it deftly in between his trousers and his high boot before he helped her slip her arms into the long coat. As she nestled snugly into the warmth that the remnants of his body heat left behind on the lining, he was glad he wouldn't have to bother her with retrieving his wand later like he had had to do 10 months earlier.
Stephen stood half a foot taller than she, maybe more. EmmaLee was a petite, mere slip of a girl. He was tall for his age and broad in the shoulders. He smiled tenderly, and unknowingly, as he rubbed his hands up and down both of her arms to give her circulation a jumpstart. She looked a little like a small, Dickensian urchin engulfed within the coat as the sleeves hung well past her fingertips.
As EmmaLee seated herself, he turned his attention to the firepit. There were logs and kindling and he made quick work of building a teepee fire. He laid out a few of the logs on the ground to give himself a dry foundation and set the kindling in the middle of those logs. Then he started fashioning some of the smaller sticks in a vertical position, looking much like a teepee shape, knowing it would be the quickest way to get airflow to the base. This would also produce a fire that would give a lot of heat quickly, and that is exactly what they needed. Stepping back to give it a once over, and satisfied with the result, he grasped his wand from his boot and incanted, “Incendio!” and watched as the green flames shot from the tip of his wand and easily lit the kindling. In no time at all, a crackling fire had come to life before them, hissing at times, and shooting out red-orange embers into the velvety dark of night around them.
The warmth reached him fairly quickly, and knowing she was sitting almost directly behind him, Stephen stepped to the side so that he was no longer blocking the heat from reaching EmmaLee.
Unsure of the best way to start, he just decided that starting was more important right now than figuring out the best technique for doing so. He stepped over to her and sat down next to her, fumbling with one of the long sleeves to find her hand, which he then clam-shelled between the both of his. When he turned his head up to meet her gaze, he did not drop it until he had finished what he had to say to her.
“EmmaLee, I’m sorry. I’m more sorry than you can ever know. I never, ever, would do anything to purposefully hurt you. I have no excuse, but I do want you to know that I haven’t been completely oblivious to occasional undercurrents pointing to something being amiss between us at times. I, literally, have no girls or women in my life, so I’ve had no relationship model and no one to talk to about whatever this is between us.”
“I’ve never had a mother or a sister. None of my friends have sisters, and their parents are divorced. My paternal grandparents are wonderful people, but they are of a generation that doesn’t really talk about this stuff. I think I know that they love each other, but I’ve never seen them hold hands or kiss. They speak with great affection to one another, but there is a distance between them in public, even with family.” He stopped long enough to take a deep breath, and then continued.
“And then there is my father. He is still in love with a woman now dead for little over 14 years,” and Stephen just continued to look at her for a moment or two in silence. “I know you know I don’t have a mother, but I’m not certain I ever told you that is because she died giving birth to me. My father has not outwardly blamed me for it, because I know he does love me, but I think he’s so caught up in his own grief that he doesn’t have the bandwidth to deal with me and my issues. Long story short there – he is not a go to for me either.”
“So, all of that said, whether you believe me or not, I knew enough to know there was something going on here, between us, that went beyond friendship. You were wrong tonight to assume that I don’t share your feelings. I don’t blame you for not knowing that, but I guess I stupidly thought hanging out with you every chance I got was evidence of that.” Then, in an effort to try and inject even a little levity into the situation he added, “I mean, I do recall sitting for precisely 8,492 minutes in the Barbiest pink tent anyone should ever have to be subjected to. Do you think I willingly wanted to have my eyeballs seared from their eyesockets for the joy of sewing, even if it did produce Gnome N. Clature, when I, I dunno,” and he shrugged his shoulders, “could have been sitting in a corner, banging my head against a wall, and shoving bamboo slivers into my nailbeds? The answer, so there are no more misunderstandings between us, is a definitive ‘No, EmmaLee. I did not,’” and he gave her a dimmer version of his usual, stadium-bright smile.
Then in a more sober tone “All I know right now is that I like you, probably more than I like anyone else I know. But, I don’t want to hurt you any more than I have. You know what occupies my mind more than anything, and that is my dream of becoming an astronaut. I now have a shot at making my dream a reality, and it is taking up every spare minute I have. I can’t let that go,” and even though he didn’t say it, the silently implied ending to that sentence was not even for you.
"When I think about an “us” I have been confused, excited, and tormented. I’m 14 years old and I worry that one of us, or both of us, is going to get hurt here if we go farther. I can’t promise you anything more than what I have been offering. This is it, EmmaLee. I live across the pond and you live here. We see each other what, three times a year? Owls are nice, but not always reliable. And time. Time is what I most would like to be able to give to you, but it is what I have the least of to give to you right now.”
“I came to the dance tonight prepared to declare myself to you, but seeing the hurt written all over your face, and hearing it in your voice, crushed me. I guess pain sometimes has a way of clarifying things. All I have to offer is just more of what we have had, but that seems to be nothing but a source of pain for you. Maybe someday it can be more, but not now. I don’t want to lose you. You have no idea how truly felt that is, but I have to be honest with you now as I can see how my silence has caused you so much hurt.”
Stephen had spoken for a long time. He had kept his eyes on EmmaLee with every word he had uttered, and he was suddenly more afraid to hear her response than he had been of anything in his whole life. The warmth of the fire was comfortable, keeping the chilly night air at bay, but there was a cold, hollow feeling, spreading from deep within his core that made him shiver as the tentacles of his thoughts led him to the obvious.
How did this night go so off the rails? He could literally have just severed their entire relationship.
------- ------
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----- ------- Reducio
@EmmaLee LeDames
The magic is real.
27 Sep 2024, 00:25
Carried Away
Biometrics: 5'. Wavy, white hair down to her mid-thigh. Blue eyes. A spattering of freckles across her nose.
Date: August 2, 2024 | Time: Evening | WC: 2045
Language: French – English – Spanish – Japanese
Interacting with: Stephen Schwartz (@AngelFyre McCubbin) | Mentioning:
Date: August 2, 2024 | Time: Evening | WC: 2045
Language: French – English – Spanish – Japanese
Interacting with: Stephen Schwartz (@AngelFyre McCubbin) | Mentioning:
EmmaLee smiled quietly as Stephen set her down and helped her into his coat. The shaken soda feeling in her stomach and chest bubbled forth as she was enveloped in his warmth and the smell of broom wax and soap lingered in the folds of the fabric. The places on her arms and thighs where Stephen had held her on the way over still tingled as he now rubbed her arms up and down to help warm her before he turned around to address the empty fire pit. EmmaLee had succeeded in remaining calm and not doing anything weird or stupid up to this point, but when Stephen turned around, she unconsciously snuggled into the coat, wrapping the front halves around and over her like a blanket, and cleared a place for them to sit on a leftover log near the fire.
Once seated and buried in Stephen's coat like a turtle, less because she was cold and more because it was Stephen's coat, EmmaLee had a good moment to sit and think while Stephen constructed and lit the fire. The walk over had actually done a good job of soothing out her emotions so that her logic could have a say in her thinking process again. Why did every kind of sense she had fly out the window when it came to him? Her face flushed with embarrassment and she covered it with the tips of her fingers and the ends of the coat sleeves. Her emotions were always like a volcano, welling up in her and bursting out at the most ridiculous opportunities. She was always leaping to conclusions and making decisions and declarations like she was the only person with valid information. It must be tiring to deal with a person like that.
EmmaLee peeked through her fingers and watched as Stephen constructed the base of the fire and for a moment, she thought he was going to light it the non-magique way, full camping style. As she watched him, she remembered what Papa had said the night her mother's family had shown up. "You have never looked at another person the way you look at that boy." She blushed again and ducked into the collar of the coat as Stephen lit the fire with magic instead and walked over to sit next to her.
She only had a few more moments to decide how to proceed. Without any kind of background noise, what did she want? When she wasn't overreacting to petty problems she made up herself, or her aunts made up for her, her feelings were clear. She already knew she cared about Stephen more than anyone else she knew. She wanted to know everything about him and be some kind of part of everything he did, even if she was just encouraging him through letters. She didn't know why. She didn't know whether to call it "in love" or not. She loved all of her friends and family. Was the love she had for Stephen really that different? At this moment, maybe it would change later, maybe it wouldn't, she wanted to be by his side for the rest of her life and she didn't feel that way about anyone else.
Could she stand it if he chose another person to take that place instead? No. Definitively. At least right now, but right now, he wasn't trying to put someone else there. So she supposed she could stand to be there until someone else came along, and then, hopefully, gracefully bow out and deal with the fallout of her heart then. She inwardly nodded to herself, feeling a little more grounded, and she slid her hands down her face and looked into his as he sat down beside her on the cleared log.
As Stephen found her hand and held it in both of his, then locked her in with that steely, determined gaze, EmmaLee clamped her mouth shut and swallowed any response she had until he had finished speaking.
Her eyes widened as he told her she was wrong about his feelings. She had already thought about the fact that she had put certain feelings into his mouth without really talking to him about them, again, but she hadn't really thought that he actually felt the same way, she tried not the hang on the word "probably" and just accept the info as it was presented. They liked each other more than friends, whatever that exactly meant.
She smiled with a small laugh as he mentioned the terribly pink tent they had made their creatures in. She had placed her phoenix on a shelf in her room next to the now properly sized Gnome N Clature and Gnome Matter What. She couldn't help but feel a little startled at Stephen's admission that he was just as excited to hang out with her as she was with him at the very least. Sometimes she had felt like a goading little sister, dragging her doting friend along because she knew he would come if she asked. More than once she had wondered if she relieved him from his obligation to spend time with her, would he insist and come anyway, or would he stay home and pursue better interests? It was interesting all the love and support that surrounded her and the moment she could be insecure about something, she was. Glaringly insecure.
Of course, Stephen had mistaken the reason for her upset, though, but she waited until he was finished speaking to correct him. Almost everyone she truly cared about was in America and when it came down to it, she really couldn't see a life "on this side of the pond" after Hogwarts. She would be back in America eventually, so she wasn't really concerned with the amount of time right now. If she was going to have to stay at Hogwarts for now, she had the rest of her life to spend with Stephen, Kiernan, Alura, Grace, and Kaya. Although admittedly leaving Kiernan, Alura, and Grace two years ago had felt like life ending at the time, they had kept in touch well and more than made up for the lost time when they were together again. She had become happy with the time they got to spend together for the moment.
With Stephen, she had never expected more, probably would always want more, she wanted more of everything when it came to him, but she didn't expect more. It wasn't like she had ever expected to see him more often than the Hogwarts balls and summer camp. Even meeting him last Summer in San Francisco had been a treat.
What threw her was the uncertainty, the fear that she was reading things wrong because she hoped he felt the same. She had no faith that she could be the person anyone wanted to see most of all, much less to the person she felt that way about. It was Stephen's silence in the wake of her aunts' and grandmother's unwavering pessimism and assurances that they BOTH would be better off without each other. EmmaLee had believed them over anything Stephen did to show his affection and she pulled away and she felt horrible for it.
When he had finished, his last words ringing in her ears like church bells, EmmaLee dropped her gaze thoughtfully and brought up her own second hand to his. Unable to fret with her fingers like she usually did when she was nervous, she held her hand over his, dropping her middle finger, and traced small patterns on the back of his palm instead. His hand was light, but darker than hers, and weathered from so much time outside and being buffered by the wind. She traced each of his folded knuckles and the side of his palm and his thumb as she thought about how to respond for a long moment before speaking.
"Well," She said finally, continuing to watch her finger make nonsensical patterns on the back of his hand. "I suppose that's one thing. My own birth father 'as been dead almost as long as your mother, but my mother chooses to grieve by talking about 'im constantly. Sometimes I don't know whether I actually remember things about 'im or if I'm just remembering things my mother told me." It didn't sound like a joke, and she didn't chuckle. She wondered if Stephen might feel the same way about his mother that she did about her father, like his memory was a ghost that haunted her life and not the fond memory her mother wanted him to be for her.
"I am sorry, also. I... My mother's sisters and my grandmother don't want me to speak to you anymore. They think we'd both be better off without each other in our lives and they're very vocal about it. They 'ave said that if you cared about me, you would tell me, and I got scared and ran away, and now I've 'urt you again. I....."She took a deep breath and turned her face from their hands to the ground, closing her eyes tightly to fight back the tears welling up in her throat, but she clasped his hand with hers, creating a tower of hands. She was determined to say it all. It wasn't like she had anything left to lose and she hated this part of herself that kept hurting him by saying nothing and running away out of fear. Gryffindor she certainly was not.
"I'm afraid of you sometimes.... I'm... afraid of what you think of me... of you deciding that I really am just a silly, emotional girl and deciding that I am a waste of your time.... of you deciding that it's too 'ard to be my friend... I'm afraid that.... I'm not worth knowing." She turned her face a little further, craning her neck to the side saying the last four words barely above a whisper. She was afraid of so many more things: her emotions, people's rejection, being left alone and she was really just coming to the realization of how much she was afraid of. After a long pause to collect herself and hopefully not cry again, she finally turned back to him and looked into his eyes as she said, "I'm sorry for believing anyone who would confirm those fears and for once again not talking to you about them."
"I 'ave always treasured what time we could spend together," She continued, dropping her face back down and drawing patterns on his hand once more. "and while I can't say I don't want more, our regular situation makes that unrealistic regardless of your further schooling situation. I definitely thought about the fact that if we stopped going to the balls together, you could stay at school and focus on your studies." She turned up to his face once more. "I really am ecstatic that you are able to pursue what you truly wish to do and I want you to be able to focus on that fully without worrying about whether I'm going to complicate our friendship."
"While I'm glad to know that at least we share the same feelings, I don't know if I can do anything about this tendency I have to overreact when I don't 'ave all the information about a situation or my instinct to run away from my emotions instead of facing them. Frankly, it seems like all the 'urt 'ere 'as been done on my part. I should 'ave just talked to you when I realized 'ow I felt, but I was so confused and...." She sighed heavily in frustration at herself. "scared of your rejection. Scared that if you didn't feel the same you would leave. What good is all the time in the world when you're always caught in the blast of my overreactions?"
At this, she dropped her hands into her lap and listened intently for his response, determined not to cry or overreact. She was going to get a grip on her huge, wild emotions at this point if it made her head explode. That being said, she kept her head down until he spoke again, still admittedly afraid of what was on his face or what he would say.
Bolos. Ridiculous, dumb, coward
Fearless | Calming Presence | E.L. | Prodigal Transfiguration
ST: 9 | EV: 9 | STR: 3 | WI: 8 | ARC: 9 | ACC: 11
Caretaker: A. P. Finch | iNPC: Yasha V.
ST: 9 | EV: 9 | STR: 3 | WI: 8 | ARC: 9 | ACC: 11
Caretaker: A. P. Finch | iNPC: Yasha V.
1 Nov 2024, 09:33
Carried Away
[quote]
[quote]
August 2, 2024 – Immediately Following the Disastrous Mistletoe Spin
Stephen watched her intently and felt better when she aimlessly appeared to trace random patterns with her finger on the back of his hand. When nervous, he had noticed that she fidgeted a lot with her fingers. He let her continue as he found her fidgeting in this instance particularly charming, yes, but mainly because he suspected it gave her a chance to collect her thoughts, as well as a place to focus on while delivering those thoughts. Eye contact was not her go to position for hard or potentially vulnerable conversations. That was fine. In her time and in her own way was fine.
He didn’t know why, but it took him by surprise when EmmaLee’s first words were about her father and how her mother grieved him by speaking of him. He had started his speech the same way, pretty much, but their parents had chosen completely different paths after their spouses had died. Stephen simply could not imagine what life would be like between him and his father if his father actually spoke about his mother, but he so rarely did. He knew she had been a real person, of course, with real joys and sorrows and love, but in the absence of hearing any of that, or feeling free to ask about her, it left him feeling like Camille Renee Schwartz was little more than a 2 dimensional character. He knew the bare facts only. He had seen her pictures, of course, but there was a flatness to his connection with her. He had absolutely no memories of her. How could he? She lived only 4 minutes and 17 seconds after his birth. He was grateful she had given him life, and he did feel badly that she had lost hers in giving him his, but he could summon little more feeling for her than he could a paper doll. He had no relationship with her, so it was simply hard to miss what he never had.
His father, on the other hand, knew what he’d had and he actively missed it every second of each of his days. Missing her was like breathing for the man. She had been dead more than twice the amount of time his father had known her, but even so, it was almost like his father’s life had frozen in time at that point. Stephen was to his father, sadly, what his mother was to him. Flat. Not much of a connection. He long ago gave up on wishing it to be different and had chosen to focus on other things, like his studies, space, sports, magic, friends, and now this girl idly tracing patterns on the back of his hand with her fingers.
She really surprised him when he she told him that her grandmother and aunts had told her to cut ties with him. He sat silently, seething just a bit, when EmmaLee relayed that she was told if he really cared about her, he would have told her. He thought he had been telling her, as best he could, not in words maybe, but by seeking her out whenever he had the chance. Even so, who were they to tell anyone what he felt with any kind of authority? To pronounce such as if they had their fingers on the pulse of his feelings or could look into his heart ticked him off. He swallowed what he wanted to say because insulting her family was not his best play here, by far, but it irked him up one side and down his other to know that those family members of hers, whom he had never met, were such experts on Stephen Schwartz’s thoughts and feelings. What a relief to know who to turn to in the future when he was next confused about such things.
Not.
His anger was forgotten when she said she was afraid of him sometimes. What? That brought him up short. Then she clarified it was not him, per se, but what he thought of her. She was now no longer even looking at their hands but appeared to be looking at the ground. He wanted to interject that she could not be more wrong, but he didn’t think interrupting her purge would be the best of ideas. As he listened, he shook his head in amazement at how well meaning people, and he was opting to be charitable here and hope that they actually were well-meaning people, could be so wrong, and cause such damage in the process. He included his own family in this train of thought. Perhaps Stephen cared too little about what people thought of him, probably because no one at home really seemed to. EmmaLee obviously cared maybe a little too much, but from the little he had seen of her immediate family last summer, she was obviously cherished.
Ahhhh. He thought he finally got it, or at least part of it. She was used to basking in love and adoration, and he had not exactly done that with her. He wouldn’t even know where to begin and trying to force some unnatural actions, or reactions, didn’t feel right either. Why did this, whatever this was, have to be so damn complicated? Couldn’t it just be enough to like each other?
How could she believe that he would not want to know her, or somehow think her unworthy of knowing or spending time with whenever he had the chance to do so? His silence ended and commenced again almost simultaneously. “Emm- …." But she was not done speaking so he put a pin in it for the moment.
As she started towards the finish line with her apology for believing in those who confirmed her fears, he began to relax a little. She actually turned back to face him when saying that, and there was an even steadiness in her voice and demeanor when she delivered those lines. Her second smile crept across her face (her first being the mention of the Barbie pink tent last summer), when she mentioned her joy in his being able to pursue his dreams. There was not a single doubt in his mind that she didn’t mean it.
Again her gaze dropped and Stephen smiled. There was a lot to go over and now was the appointed time, apparently, for them to both come clean with each other.
“EmmaLee, there will never be a time when I'll think that you are not worth knowing, so you can get that daft notion out of your head right now. I don't know how to relate to the girl you described because your feelings about our situation don't reflect how I've seen you at all. Silly? Annoying? Overreactive? Hardly! Those are not words or emotions that come to my mind when you occupy my thoughts."
He squeezed her hand and then brought it up to his lips, letting it linger there for a second or two beyond what he normally might, so that she would know it was not him just teasing her or playing the gallant gentleman with her.
No, he meant this and he wanted her to feel unequivocally that he did.
When his lips pulled back from her hand, he held it tenderly in his larger one as he let it ride down to her lap. He inched closer to her. And closer again. His eyes confidently sought out the shine in hers. When she looked up, he slipped his hands around her tiny waist, and twisted his torso just a bit, allowing him to draw nearer to her perfectly shaped lips. His gaze never faltered, until just before contact was made, when his own eyes closed of their own volition and he whispered, “My beautiful, Starfire Girl.”
[quote]
August 2, 2024 – Immediately Following the Disastrous Mistletoe Spin
Stephen watched her intently and felt better when she aimlessly appeared to trace random patterns with her finger on the back of his hand. When nervous, he had noticed that she fidgeted a lot with her fingers. He let her continue as he found her fidgeting in this instance particularly charming, yes, but mainly because he suspected it gave her a chance to collect her thoughts, as well as a place to focus on while delivering those thoughts. Eye contact was not her go to position for hard or potentially vulnerable conversations. That was fine. In her time and in her own way was fine.
He didn’t know why, but it took him by surprise when EmmaLee’s first words were about her father and how her mother grieved him by speaking of him. He had started his speech the same way, pretty much, but their parents had chosen completely different paths after their spouses had died. Stephen simply could not imagine what life would be like between him and his father if his father actually spoke about his mother, but he so rarely did. He knew she had been a real person, of course, with real joys and sorrows and love, but in the absence of hearing any of that, or feeling free to ask about her, it left him feeling like Camille Renee Schwartz was little more than a 2 dimensional character. He knew the bare facts only. He had seen her pictures, of course, but there was a flatness to his connection with her. He had absolutely no memories of her. How could he? She lived only 4 minutes and 17 seconds after his birth. He was grateful she had given him life, and he did feel badly that she had lost hers in giving him his, but he could summon little more feeling for her than he could a paper doll. He had no relationship with her, so it was simply hard to miss what he never had.
His father, on the other hand, knew what he’d had and he actively missed it every second of each of his days. Missing her was like breathing for the man. She had been dead more than twice the amount of time his father had known her, but even so, it was almost like his father’s life had frozen in time at that point. Stephen was to his father, sadly, what his mother was to him. Flat. Not much of a connection. He long ago gave up on wishing it to be different and had chosen to focus on other things, like his studies, space, sports, magic, friends, and now this girl idly tracing patterns on the back of his hand with her fingers.
She really surprised him when he she told him that her grandmother and aunts had told her to cut ties with him. He sat silently, seething just a bit, when EmmaLee relayed that she was told if he really cared about her, he would have told her. He thought he had been telling her, as best he could, not in words maybe, but by seeking her out whenever he had the chance. Even so, who were they to tell anyone what he felt with any kind of authority? To pronounce such as if they had their fingers on the pulse of his feelings or could look into his heart ticked him off. He swallowed what he wanted to say because insulting her family was not his best play here, by far, but it irked him up one side and down his other to know that those family members of hers, whom he had never met, were such experts on Stephen Schwartz’s thoughts and feelings. What a relief to know who to turn to in the future when he was next confused about such things.
Not.
His anger was forgotten when she said she was afraid of him sometimes. What? That brought him up short. Then she clarified it was not him, per se, but what he thought of her. She was now no longer even looking at their hands but appeared to be looking at the ground. He wanted to interject that she could not be more wrong, but he didn’t think interrupting her purge would be the best of ideas. As he listened, he shook his head in amazement at how well meaning people, and he was opting to be charitable here and hope that they actually were well-meaning people, could be so wrong, and cause such damage in the process. He included his own family in this train of thought. Perhaps Stephen cared too little about what people thought of him, probably because no one at home really seemed to. EmmaLee obviously cared maybe a little too much, but from the little he had seen of her immediate family last summer, she was obviously cherished.
Ahhhh. He thought he finally got it, or at least part of it. She was used to basking in love and adoration, and he had not exactly done that with her. He wouldn’t even know where to begin and trying to force some unnatural actions, or reactions, didn’t feel right either. Why did this, whatever this was, have to be so damn complicated? Couldn’t it just be enough to like each other?
How could she believe that he would not want to know her, or somehow think her unworthy of knowing or spending time with whenever he had the chance to do so? His silence ended and commenced again almost simultaneously. “Emm- …." But she was not done speaking so he put a pin in it for the moment.
As she started towards the finish line with her apology for believing in those who confirmed her fears, he began to relax a little. She actually turned back to face him when saying that, and there was an even steadiness in her voice and demeanor when she delivered those lines. Her second smile crept across her face (her first being the mention of the Barbie pink tent last summer), when she mentioned her joy in his being able to pursue his dreams. There was not a single doubt in his mind that she didn’t mean it.
Again her gaze dropped and Stephen smiled. There was a lot to go over and now was the appointed time, apparently, for them to both come clean with each other.
“EmmaLee, there will never be a time when I'll think that you are not worth knowing, so you can get that daft notion out of your head right now. I don't know how to relate to the girl you described because your feelings about our situation don't reflect how I've seen you at all. Silly? Annoying? Overreactive? Hardly! Those are not words or emotions that come to my mind when you occupy my thoughts."
He squeezed her hand and then brought it up to his lips, letting it linger there for a second or two beyond what he normally might, so that she would know it was not him just teasing her or playing the gallant gentleman with her.
No, he meant this and he wanted her to feel unequivocally that he did.
When his lips pulled back from her hand, he held it tenderly in his larger one as he let it ride down to her lap. He inched closer to her. And closer again. His eyes confidently sought out the shine in hers. When she looked up, he slipped his hands around her tiny waist, and twisted his torso just a bit, allowing him to draw nearer to her perfectly shaped lips. His gaze never faltered, until just before contact was made, when his own eyes closed of their own volition and he whispered, “My beautiful, Starfire Girl.”
------- ----------- -------
Reducio
@EmmaLee LeDames
The magic is real.
5 Nov 2024, 18:25
Carried Away
Biometrics: 5'. Wavy, white hair down to her mid-thigh. Blue eyes. A spattering of freckles across her nose.
Date: August 2, 2024 | Time: Evening | WC: 531
Language: French – English – Spanish – Japanese
Interacting with: Stephen Schwartz (@AngelFyre McCubbin) | Mentioning:
Date: August 2, 2024 | Time: Evening | WC: 531
Language: French – English – Spanish – Japanese
Interacting with: Stephen Schwartz (@AngelFyre McCubbin) | Mentioning:
As Stephen answered her long confession with a simple, determined paragraph, EmmaLee tried to not dismiss his statement. She WAS silly and overreactive, but it wouldn't do to argue with him; she just needed to be better about it, reign in her huge, overwhelming emotions once and for all. If not for Stephen, of all people, than who?
As he continued to speak, she couldn't help but blush and smile a little. The edge of her lips quirking up as she pressed her lips together to try and contain a full grin as his words soothed her charred nerves and heart, she didn't really know why. ...when you occupy my thoughts. It was a few simple words, that were obvious on the smallest scale considering his very first letter, his gift of Gnome N. Clature, his Christmas gift, his presence here and at the Spring Ball despite his increasingly overwhelming study schedule, but they warmed her heart like a home hearth at the idea that he thought about her when they were not together. The verbal confirmation that she was on his mind as he was on hers.
It was exactly this, this silliness that she had not come back to these things that had occurred between them and let them settle in her chest like a security blanket beforehand. Ladies above why was she like this? Why was it so much easier to believe the negative? To take her extended family's opinion over her parents' and friends' and hold it close like they knew who either of them were? Had she always been this pessimistic and insecure? Prone to believing the worst? It stirred of something that had not quite clicked into place for her yet, but could be thought upon later as Stephen picked her hand up from her lap and kissed it.
Sparks of electricity sped through EmmaLee's hand and up her arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake and the invisible hair on her arm standing on end, when Stephen put his lips to her skin and let the gesture linger for a moment. The prickles spread as he shifted closer and the electric shock from his hands moving to her hips, climbed up her spine and brought her eyes to his, determined and set, alight with the reflection of the fire, and he leaned forward, not that it was that much further, until his lips were a ghost against hers to speak.
My. My. My. My.
The word reverberated in her head as he claimed her and her lips and if she had a single reservation or insecurity left about his feelings, or hers, it was wiped away with that one word. My. She didn't hear, or maybe didn't process, any of the words after it.
Once again, Stephen was both too close and not close enough as EmmaLee's own stunned eyes closed and she responded, hips shifting to better fit in his hands as he shifted, her own hands finding the back of his neck and his cheek and pulling him gently closer into the kiss of their own volition. It was such a beautiful word when it came out of his mouth talking about her.
~Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight, just a touch of the fire burning so bright. No, I don't want to mess this thing up... Let's do this right... with a kiss good night.~
~If you look in my eyes and tell me we'll be alright. If you promise never to leave, you just might make me believe.~
~Looking at you, holding my breath. For once in my life, I'm scared to death. I'm taking a chance, letting you inside. We're feeling alive all over again, as deep as the sky. It's under my skin, "Being in love, " she says, "for the first time". Maybe I'm wrong, I'm feeling right, where I belong with you tonight, like being in love it feels for the first time.~
~I just want to be part of your symphony.~
~When you kiss me like this, I think you mean it like that. If you do, baby, kiss me again.~
Just a Kiss by Lady A
Just Might (Make Me Believe) by Sugarland
First Time by Lifehouse
Symphony by Clean Bandit
You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This by Toby Keith
Fearless | Calming Presence | E.L. | Prodigal Transfiguration
ST: 9 | EV: 9 | STR: 3 | WI: 8 | ARC: 9 | ACC: 11
Caretaker: A. P. Finch | iNPC: Yasha V.
ST: 9 | EV: 9 | STR: 3 | WI: 8 | ARC: 9 | ACC: 11
Caretaker: A. P. Finch | iNPC: Yasha V.