#flustered ruth my beloved | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wingsofhcpe · 3 years

Note

For the prompt thing if it's alright:)

Melanie & Ruth reunite fluff and maybe angst after Mel comes back and they end up making out in the end?

Me: this is gonna be a small drabble

Me, more than 3k words later: ....yes.

Melanie thinks she's dead, at first. Her eyelids flutter open and her pupils, so used to dim emergency lights and the flickering glow of white snow for months on end, contract painfully at first. She cannot make out much but blurry figures and distant, echoing voices, but she thinks she's somewhere warm, that the voices belong to people she knows. Well- she once knew.

She must truly be dying, then, and this is just her life flashing before her eyes. It truly is like the movies, she thinks, and is struck with the absurd urge to laugh. She forces it down, because if, by some inexplicable miracle, someone is listening, she doesn't want her last moments of this earth to be sarcastic self-depreciating laughter. She's desperate, but not mad- laughing now would surely convince whoever's watching (God? The ghosts of the people she had killed during her reign as Train Leader?) of her failing sanity. No sir, none of that. Melanie Helene Cavill won't go down a madwoman.

Or, apparently, she won't go down at all, not yet.

Because the next thing she knows, her vision clears and she can make out her surroundings in more detail than before. She's in a small, well-lit cabin of some sorts. There's a circular window on one side, and she can see the snowy fields racing away as the train -she knows she's on one, she would have known even in death- gobbles up the miles, swaying ever so gently. The hum, the constant whir of the engine ... it's so familiar. Like a lullaby.

Snowpiercer?

No, wait, that doesn't make sense. She was lost, stuck out there in some other half-assed engine car, barely hanging on as the hunger and cold slowly ate at her for months and months. However did she end up back on-

The voices she's been hearing for hours. They've been familiar too. Layton... Was that Andre Layton she'd heard? And- and Alex, her Alexandra... Could it all have been a dream? A hallucination?

No, she doesn't think so. Using whatever little strength she has she lifts an arm, studying the intravenous tube strapped to the side of her wrist. It's real enough, she decides as she tugs carefully on the cable and receives a slight sting at the entry point on her skin as a reward. Okay, then.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." A voice says, familiar as well, and Melanie's head snaps up as the sliding door on the other side of the cabin whirs open. Her eyes widen in disbelief.

"Ruth...?" She asks, voice scratchy from disuse, as soon as her eyes meet the newcomer's -which is a dumb thing to ask, really, that's Ruth alright, in her stupid teal uniform as if not a day has passed ever since the last time they saw each other. She quickly snaps her mouth shut when Ruth raises an eyebrow in a perfect judgmental frown that Melanie knows all too well.

"Well, hello to you too, miss Dead Woman Walking." Ruth walks up to Melanie's bed (she's realised by now she's in the Second Class med bay of Snowpiercer) and meticulously inspects the IV cable for a few moments, then lets go when she ascertains nothing's been pulled askew because of Melanie's fussing. As she draws her hand away, her fingers brush Melanie's, and both of them look at each other, then away, in the span of a millisecond.

"So...." Melanie clears her throat after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. "You found me."

"Wilford found you, if we want to be precise." Ruth says with a slight scowl, immediately piquing the other woman's attention. Wilford? Not Mister Wilford. There's no hint of reverence in Ruth's voice when she speaks the name- no, there's even a hint of reprimand, which, to Melanie, is more shocking than even the fact she's alive and back on Snowpiercer.

What in the seven hells happened while I was gone?

"Wilford, huh." She sighs, deciding not to ask questions yet. She and Ruth did not depart in exactly good terms and, although the latter doesn't seem angry anymore (just a little bit ruffled, which makes sense, Melanie thinks, when you have a chat with someone who's supposedly been dead for eight months), but she doesn't want to press the issue yet.

Ruth hums, and settles on a chair next to the bed. "Yes. Wilford. That... ugh. I'd rather not speak my mind on him right now."

Melanie smiles a little at that- yes, well, Ruth rarely spoke ill of everyone, and even when she did she refrained from using vulgar language.

"What, he demoted you?" She asks with a slight tease to her voice, which she immediately regrets when Ruth pins her with a glare that could incinerate the entire Ag-Sec. "Sorry, sorry. That was uncalled for."

Ruth sighs after a second, and her expression mellows a little, which makes Melanie feel more at ease too. "It's alright. I suppose I deserved that. But, ah- no, he didn't demote me. Well- no, he kind of did. But... Look, Melanie, I'm really sorry."

At that, Melanie blinks, confused. Ruth's not looking at her, her eyes skimming all over the cabin's walls and ceiling as if looking for something to latch on. Probably anything other than Melanie.

"For what?" Melanie asks, incredulous, then regrets it when Ruth's shoulders slump just a little (she would never allow herself anything more, that woman, always looking picture perfect like a soldier set up for inspection).

"Really? You're going to make me say it?" Ruth shakes her head. "Fine, I probably deserve that, too. I'm sorry for... not listening to you. For everything that happened. For believing in a man I hadn't seen for seven years rather than you, my friend, who I spent almost every living moment with. And- well. Frankly I was being quite the little bitch about everything. Real petty of me, huh?"

That's another thing about Ruth; she will not use vulgar language on others. On herself, though? She's probably the runner-up for Snowpiercer's Most Self-depreciating Passenger, after the ruling champion, Melanie herself. Maybe that's why they were so close, among other things.

"I..." Melanie swallows, thinking of what to say. She had not really expected Ruth to apologise so quickly and so honestly, not after all these months. "It's... understandable. I mean- I lied to your face for seven years. I didn't exactly have the moral high ground back there, so. I guess we both messed up."

"Yes, maybe we did." Ruth shrugs. "Still. I can't believe I trusted that son of a- ehem... that I trusted Wilford instead of you."

"What did he do to earn your ire, of all people?" She can't help it- she knows Ruth to be loyal to a fault (unless you lie to her for seven fucking years which Melanie can't exactly begrudge her for snapping at), so what could Wilford have done to piss her off that much?

As a response, Ruth huffs. "What didn't he do, honestly. He left you out there to die just because he wanted to preserve his little monarchy, for starters. Sure, I wasn't your biggest admirer at the time but it wasn't fair. Then he put Roche to the shelves, along with his family. He tried to sway the whole train against the Tail, again, and sabotaged anyone who stood against him."

"And I suppose you didn't stand for it?" Melanie asks when Ruth pauses to take a breather, which earns her yet another glare.

"No I didn't! I care for the people of this train." She stops, looks away, and sniffs self-consciously. "I... I know the Tail wouldn't agree with that right off the bat. I'm not perfect, you know."

"Hard to believe. You were the Little Miss Perfect of the Hospitality Department. Not a hair out of place, for seven years. Even I couldn't compete with that." Melanie says with a small nostalgic smile, sitting up. Ruth rolls her eyes a little, and Melanie changes the subject back to what they were talking about prior. "So, you went against Wilford. Then what? Sided with Layton?"

Ruth nods. "Mhm. Got sent to Compost along with him, in fact."

At that, Melanie's grateful she's sitting up, because she chokes on her spit and breaks into a bout of laughter loud enough to shake her whole body. Ruth glares at her -again, but that's probably deserved, too.

"What's so funny?" The blonde woman snaps, and Melanie sucks in a half-steady breath.

"You... in Compost?" She giggles, shaking her head. "How did you survive that?"

"What's that supposed to mean? I've survived a lot worse! Ran the rebel forces for six whole months, I'll have you know!"

And that, more effectively than anything else, shuts Melanie up. The grin fades off her strained features, eyes widening slightly. "Wait, what? You? Rebel commander?"

"You could at least pretend to believe half of what I just said." Ruth deadpans, misreading her expression. "I'm not a mindless sheep who doesn't know how to-"

"No, no, that's not what I meant." Melanie cuts her off, because she doesn't like where this conversation is heading, and she doesn't want to lose Ruth again, not so fast after getting her back (well, somewhat. They've been having a good talk. How did it get derailed so quickly?). "I was just... Look, I know you can be a leader, Ruth. You've acted as the Head of Hospitality even more than I had. I'm not doubting that."

"Maybe you should." Ruth snaps, and for the first time Melanie feels as if she no longer knows that woman, sitting across from her. She looks like Ruth, sounds like her. But... There's something off. Like a part of her has been broken and sharpened into a jagged blade. "My lead got people killed. If we could have just laid low... But no, I thought I could be Robin Hood or something, while we were waiting for Layton to come back."

"Come back- from where?" Melanie wants to comfort her more than anything, but she knows the price of leadership, and she doesn't want to lie again, even if it's for a good cause. So she focuses on the facts, which Ruth also seems to appreciate.

"We had a plan." She continues, her voice a little calmer. "To find you, when Wilford pulled us away from the meeting point. If we could just get the engine, circle back and get you, then reconnect to the rest of the train, we could solve everything. Or not. Anyway, Ben, Layton, Josie, Bess and Alex made it to the aquarium car. They'd break that off and separate the first few cars and the engine from the rest. I was supposed to be there, but well. Stuff happened, didn't make it, got stuck here with a revenge-crazed Wilford. Had to help everyone make it through the dark, you know."

"I see..." Melanie's brain is whirring already, calculating everything, the risks, the lives lost, what Ruth had had to deal with, Layton's apparent delay that cost everyone six months under Wilford's thumb. "How many did he...you know? Before you could stop him."

"Oh, not many, actually. Not willingly I'd least. Although he let some die of an influenza epidemic." Ruth sighs again, looking so tired that Mel's heart constricts. "We lost a few good people during the epidemic, but... We lost more when word went out that there even was a resistance. I thought I could help, but people got caught and... Wilford did not want anyone dead. Layton had taken Audrey hostage, you see, and if he came back to find his people butchered there was no telling what he'd do to her. So he just had Kevin interrogate some people. And- he took it too far. People died."

She stops there, and Melanie knows just by looking at her that she doesn't want to say more, not now. Still, there's something... "Just them? Did something else...?"

Ruth runs a hand over her eyes, and nods. "It's a long story. Some people didn't want to follow Layton, and... There was- a conflict. Pike died. Because of me."

"Pike-" the rough, bloodthirsty-looking Taillie. "But why would he- ..."

'I led the resistance for six months.'

"Oh..." Melanie's mouth hangs a little ajar, as, somehow, perhaps because she's known Ruth for more than a decade and has spent seven years of it on a moving metal tube with her, her brain connects the dots even without having the entire picture. "Oh, Ruthie..."

She reaches out her hand -tube and all- and takes Ruth's in it, and although the other woman stiffens a little she doesn't pull away, instead slightly gripping Melanie's hand back.

"I just- I didn't think he'd go that far." Ruth whispers. "He said... I don't know, he said I would be a better leader than Layton, that I could protect everyone... But I can't, Mel, I'm not a leader. And now he's dead, and he died for me, and I couldn't even watch because of some foolish, barbaric Tail tradition-"

"Hey. Hey." Melanie's hand tightens around Ruth's, using whatever little strength she has to pull the other woman closer, just a little. "Slow down. It's not your fault, whatever it is that happened. I'm sure it's not. I... I don't know what happened that led to his death. Or what happened between you. And you don't have to tell me yet. But... Don't blame yourself. Please."

It's silly, hearing that from her own lips- Melanie is the one that blames herself for everything ninety-nine percent of the time, even for things out of her control. But somehow, she wants to protect Ruth from that. Ruth, who's always kept it together even in the toughest of circumstances. Who only thought of kindling the passengers' hope as the train spun and rocked, almost knocking itself off the rails and sending them all to their deaths. Ruth, who was so foolishly righteous and stuck to the rules even when they made no real sense, and even though she had devoted her very soul to Wilford she found the strength to go against him to protect the people of the train.

So she pulls Ruth's hand again until the other woman is forced to lean closer still, and then Melanie wraps both arms around her. It's the closest they've been in more than eight fucking months, and Melanie has forgotten how it feels to be closer to another human being, and she just missed this so much, she missed Ruth so much. So they hold each other, and Ruth even rests her head on Melanie's shoulder, and Melanie is reminded of a night long ago, when the train first departed, when she had to live her heart and soul behind for the good of humanity. Ruth had been there. She might not have known the real reason behind Melanie having to leave her daughter behind, but she still had been there, holding Melanie as she cried. And Ruth had cried, too. For Melanie, for Alexandra, for the whole damn world.

None of them had cried ever since, at least not within each other's vicinity. But now, almost eight years later, that unspoken rule between them finally comes undone. It's only human to cry, after all.

"I'm sorry." Ruth sniffs after a few minutes, although she doesn't make an attempt to move away from Melanie. "Look at me, crying about my love life while you literally just came back from the grave. I shouldn't even be bothering you with any of it, Dr. Pelton said to let you rest-"

"It's okay", Melanie says in a rush, because while she feels exhausted to the very bone, she does not want Ruth to go. Not yet. "You lost someone you loved. That's no small thing."

"Yeah, well. Maybe love's just not for me." Ruth mutters, which makes Melanie's hand on her back twitch a little.

"Did you love him?" She asks quietly, almost hating herself for the question but unable to prevent herself from asking it.

"I think I did. But it doesn't matter anymore. He's gone."

Melanie takes that as a sign to drop the subject, which she's more than happy to do for about fifty different reasons, and so they go back to silently holding onto each other, neither of them making the first move to let go. Melanie feels her eyes closing, and although it's not the most comfortable position in the world she feels like she's close to dozing off right there against Ruth's shoulder. But after a while she jolts completely awake, hearing Ruth whisper, "I didn't even get to say goodbye."

"To Pike?" Melanie asks, stupidly, which makes Ruth snort in exasperation.

"To you, you absolute buffoon."

Melanie blinks, because she really didn't expect that. "Me?"

"Oh for God's sake, Melanie, should I have Dr. Pelton examine you for brain damage? Yes, you." She pushes Melanie away then, but her hands remain on the latter's shoulders so they can stare into each other's eyes. Melanie, unreasonably, feels a bit flustered. "You got lost into nowhere. We all thought you were dead, and I lived for eight months with the knowledge that I would never get to tell you how sorry I was that I... said and did all I said and did. You... mean a lot to me, Mel. And I'm... I'm very glad you're back."

As she finishes, Ruth smiles a little, which is infectious. Melanie can't help but smile too, leaning closer again.

"I'm glad to be back, too." She swallows, then decides to go for it, because at this point it's not like it's a secret to either of them. "Remember what I said the day the truth came out? 'I'll see you around'."

"...yes." Ruth nods, suddenly tense. Of course she remembers the Snowpiercer breakup line, as it is known; the two of them were never officially a "thing", not with their duties and everything, but it's not like they ever got to really talk about it, what with the Tail chaos, and the secrets, and then Wilford returning from the dead (Melanie is starting to see a pattern here), and then Melanie fucking off into nowhere to presumably freeze and die in the snow. But...

"What if I wanted to take it back?" She whispers, "all of it? The lies, the fighting, everything."

"Well..." Ruth is quiet and skittish, suddenly, which alerts Melanie to perhaps having completely butchered this whole thing (congrats, genius, your friend just told you about her dead boyfriend and you're already flirting again, good going Einstein), but then Ruth says, "I'd be willing to listen."

...oh. Oh, okay, then. That makes sense- it's not like Melanie herself is monogamous, anyway.

"Ah..." Good, now she's got nothing to say. "If you're still not over Pike then-"

"Pike's dead." Ruth snaps with enough ferocity to startle Melanie into silence. "But you're not, as it turns out. You're... here. And I... missed you."

Ah. Well, then. That's fine and dandy with her.

"I... I missed you, too. Very much." Melanie whispers, and then she's leaning in and kissing Ruth like it's their last day on Earth, which it might as well be with this train's abysmal track record (hah, funny), but Melanie wills the next upcoming end-of-the-world crisis to wait just a little while longer, because she's missed the taste of Ruth's kiss and the feel of her hair through her fingers. She realises belatedly Ruth's no longer wearing it in her signature crown updo but has let it down over her shoulders, only having pulled off a few of the front stands out of her face with a hairclip, and Melanie wants to tell her how beautiful she looks like that, that she should do it more often, but she can't very well speak right now, not with Ruth's hands threading through her own brown hair and making her moan into the kiss just a little-

"Wow, okay. Glad I didn't bring Alex with me this time round."

Both Melanie and Ruth almost jump away from each other at the remark, and turn in perfect unison to face a deadpan-looking Dr. Pelton, standing in the doorway with both hands crossed over her chest.

"I, ah, I was just coming to tell you Melanie woke up." Ruth stumbles over the words but manages to retain whatever's left of her dignity and composure, unlike Melanie, who's looking a bit like a fish out of water.

"Sure you were." Pelton fires back, but she's smirking. "Good to see you up and around again, at least."

That last part is directed to Melanie, who clears her throat.

"Uh... I feel fine." If only a little stiff and tired but, she supposes that's not so bad for someone who came back from the dead. "You mentioned Alex? Does she know I'm-"

"Alive? Yes, she certainly does." Pelton's voice has taken on a tone that says 'you're seriously asking that?', but she humours Melanie all the same. "She left a few hours earlier, actually. Didn't want to, but I persuaded her she had to get some sleep and that you weren't going anywhere. You can see her in the morning. Now, Ruth, out. I need to check her vitals."

Ruth blinks, glances between Melanie and Pelton, decides she very much does not wish to evoke the latter's fury, and with a small embarrassed smile in Melanie's way she makes for the door.

"You should see Alex first, tomorrow." She says quickly. "I'm, ah, on hospitality duty, so I'll see you in the afternoon?"

It's voiced like a question, and Melanie can't help but smile back, even as Pelton strides in in all her glory and begins tugging at her IV tube and prodding her here and there.

"Sure, Ruth. I'll see you tomorrow."

#snowpiercer #snowpiercer spoilers #snowpiercer s3 #melanie cavill #ruth wardell #mel x ruth #melruth #flustered ruth my beloved #feat. dr pelton being a menace because we love that of her #thank you for the wonderful prompt anon

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lusie-king · 4 years

Text

The smells hit Poppy before anything else did. Garlic, butter and pepper tickled her nose as they entered through the grand doors into the ballroom. But as soon as she saw the masterpiece before her, she forgot about the aromatic scents. In fact, she forgot most things, especially how not to gawk.

The eye was drawn to the center of the room where a dance floor made of the warmest gold had couples in equally as impressive gowns and suits of all colors gliding across its smooth surface. Above them hung chandeliers made of sparkling glass that seemed to rain shimmering embers of glitter. Poppy saw these lightly touch down in Quancy’s hair, and felt them in her own. Pearl colored curtains of satin crisscrossed the ceiling and the banister balcony that spanned the perimeter of the room. Beneath them, as the primary decorations, were marble statues of masked couples dancing exaggeratedly between rose-gold pillars engraved with fluid designs.

Large circular tables also lined the edges of the room, with table clothes softer than any silk sheets (though Poppy had yet to try the bed) and dishware she wasn’t sure it was legal to eat off of.

Quancy and Poppy moved forward slowly, both too stunned to do much else than stumble in a circle like fools. At least, Poppy later observed, they acted foolish together. It wasn’t until someone cleared his throat behind Poppy that she was pulled from a daze she didn’t think she’d ever want to leave.

It was the handsome man from the boat, the one with the checkered mask who also saved her life.

“Madame,” he said and offered his hand, which she took and tried to keep her cheeks cool as his lips touched her skin. “Ah, Miss Celidene.”

“Poppy, please,” she heard herself say, not fully convinced the words left her lips.

“And Lord Quancy Quixote,” Quancy said with a slight growl as he pushed in front of Poppy and offered his hand to the man. “I don’t recall getting your name.”

“That would be because I did not give it,” the man said with a smirk. Quancy glared beneath his mask. The man still hadn’t released Poppy’s hand, so she tugged it back on her own. “But you may call me Lindon. Your table is right this way.”

They followed Lindon to a table with four chairs. Lindon pulled out a seat for Poppy, evident in the glistening name tag before the plate. He stood in front of Quancy’s chair for far longer than necessary, blocking the slowly seething man from sitting beside his beloved.

“I am not your server tonight, but if you need anything, anything at all, just say my name out loud and I will come,” he said with a smile Poppy could have gotten lost in. Quancy cleared his throat a few times, but neither Poppy nor Lindon seemed to hear, or if they did, they refused to acknowledge, and this trance was broken only when another actor led another couple to the same table. This second actor, the same woman who initially showed them to their room, barked at Lindon.

“I believe you’ve another few guests to attend to.”

“Of course, Rulla,” Lindon said without breaking eye contact. Poppy blinked and he was gone. Quancy sat beside her, brushing off his suit jacket.

“I do not like him,” Quancy said in a low voice, his words tickling Poppy’s neck. She shrugged, the elaborate material of her gown like liquid dripping off her shoulders.

“Oh, I don’t know. I quite like him.”

“I think he is absolutely ravishing,” the woman now seated with them said. She stretched her arm across the table, holding her hand out. “Ruth Pows. This is Atler, my brother.” After she said it, the resemblance between the two became remarkable, even beneath their masks. Both had light red hair and a few freckles scattered about their charismatic expressions. Well, that was the expression Ruth wore. Atler’s wasn’t as cheerful. Ruth’s purple mask had sparks of blue and red here and there, similar to the tie-dye feel of her dress. She wore gloves, one went all the way up to her upper arm while the other stopped just after her wrist.

Atler had on a gray and green mask, the same color scheme as his dark suit. He sat with his arms crossed and didn’t look at anyone at the table.

“It’s very nice to meet you. I am Poppy, and this is my fiancé, Quancy.”

“Fiancé?” Quancy asked quietly. Poppy nodded with a smile and placed her palm over his hand. They stared into each other’s eyes as Ruth squealed and Atler grimaced.

“Fiancé! How simply enchanting! Congratulations! I know we just only met, but I am so excited for you dearest Poppy!”

“You are too sweet, Ruth,” Poppy replied, her hand still over Quancy’s.

“What a thrilling way to spend your engagement! I am so excited to be here. When I got the tickets, it simply made my entire lifetime! And I chose to bring the one person who means everything to me, my dearest Atler.” Ruth shook his arm and smiled wide. Atler gave a grumpy sigh. “Can’t you tell how ecstatic he is?”

“Uh, yeah,” Quancy said and Poppy had to stifle a laugh. She squeezed Quancy’s hand.

“So, have you made any progress on the overall clue?”

“Um…” Poppy trailed off. Ruth sat back.

“I know, I know. It’s a competition, so we shouldn’t be helping each other out. I just thought I’d ask, since Atler and I have absolutely no idea what any of it means.”

“Actually, I am ashamed to admit we haven’t looked at it beyond first receiving it.” It occurred to Poppy then that everyone else in the room had probably already put some serious thought into the clue.

“Ha-ha! No worries! It is the first night, after all! Ooh, what are you most looking forward to? I personally cannot wait to have my fortune told! The cards they use here are as real as they come. Every fortune predicted is one-hundred percent accurate, since the cards once belonged to the Soothsayer.” Ruth’s curls bounced as she spoke.

“What?” Quancy said, suddenly interested. “That can’t be. The Soothsayer’s cards? As in, the Entity himself?”

Ruth nodded rapidly. “C’mon Quance! Everyone knows that when Jinx, in all her power and glory, trapped the Immoral Entities for good, she took possession of their Immoral Items, Soothsayer’s cards included!”

“Immortal,” Quancy clarified.

“What?” Ruth blinked.

“Immortal Entities. Immortal Items. Not immoral.”

Ruth snorted. “Yes, technically it is Immortal. But everyone nowadays refers to them as Immoral, seeing how the terms fits better. I suppose everyone is entitled to their own opinions. I won’t hold it against you, Quance.”

Quancy then seemed a little flustered. “I—uh—I’ve never actually heard that before.”

“Really?” Ruth and Poppy said at the same time. Now it was Poppy’s turn to snort.

“That surprises me, Quancy.”

He shrugged. “I guess the Entities never really come up in everyday conversation.”

“Fair enough. Who would really want to discuss the worst villains to ever walk this world, anyhow?” Ruth laughed.

“How did you know about the cards Ruth? Because I actually didn’t know that,” Poppy asked.

“Well,” Ruth began ringing her fingers. “Perhaps it isn’t common knowledge.” She took on a sly tone. “I just happen to have an “in” with one of the actors.”

“You mean you slept with one,” Atler said, his first words of the night. Poppy and Quancy were taken aback. Ruth frowned at her brother.

“You don’t have to go around telling everyone that!” she said through clenched teeth.

“We’re not even here for a full day and you’ve already gotten into the pants of an employee. How just like you, Ruth. Honestly. What else did I expect?”

“I couldn’t help myself!” she exclaimed, and the atmosphere of the table was suddenly uncomfortable. “She was just so seductive, and looked so appetizing in her costume! Just the sight of her made my loins burn like—”

“Ugh, stop it, Ruth!” Atler gagged as Ruth grinned dumbly. “Why must you always do this?”

“I can’t help it!” she cried again. Atler glared.

“Yes you can!”

“No, I can’t!”

“Yes, you can.”

Quancy leaned over to Poppy as the two siblings bickered. “Want to go do something that involves leaving the table and whatever this is?”

She leaned as well. “Please.”

“Don’t mind us, we need to excuse ourselves a moment,” Quancy said, though neither of the Pows seemed to care for neither noticed he had spoken, or that he and Poppy had left.

They walked, arm in arm, toward the punch table and when Poppy brought a glass of the rich yellow liquid to her lips, her taste buds melted. It was light yet buttery, creamy yet zesty, sweet yet savory, and she could have gulped down the entire fountain-display of it if she decided to throw self-control to the wind. Quancy leaned against the table, eyeing her with a look that made her want to repeat some of the things Ruth had said.

“So, since you kind of proposed to me, does this mean you’ll get me a ring?”

“What?” Poppy laughed. “I didn’t propose.”

“Well, I haven’t either. Yet. And still, it seems I am your fiancé.” He placed his glass down and stepped closer. Even with the mask his expressions failed to remain hidden.

“I said what I said because it seems easier than introducing you to everyone as ‘the man who I most likely will marry, but it hasn’t yet been made official’.”

“That is quite the mouthful,” he agreed, and she laughed out loud, then took a step closer herself and gripped the folds of his suit collar. The punch certainly was relaxing.

“Listen, I know you haven’t officially proposed, but my answer is officially…” she paused, her eyes searching his for any reason to turn back. And she found none. “Yes.”

“Poperva Celidene, you have just made me the happiest man in the world,” he whispered, took her in his arms and kissed her passionately. They broke away only upon the realization that a line for punch had formed behind them. This line erupted in a chorus of cheers and applause, since they had overheard the unorthodox engagement.

With eyes closed and foreheads together, Poppy and Quancy smiled as their noses brushed.

“May I have this dance, my darling?”

“Of course, my beloved.” Poppy followed Quancy onto the dance floor, where a few other couples slowly spun to the music. He took one of her hands in his, placed the other on her waist, and they twirled across the floor. She had attended a few parties in the past with Quancy, and they always danced so she always knew he was good, but on that night in particular she thought no one had ever danced like him before. Poppy glanced down and saw their shoes left silver footprints on the gold material. Quancy’s eyes twinkled like the specs of glitter in his hair. In that moment, swaying to the gentle melodies from the orchestra that was nowhere to be seen, Poppy never wanted to be anywhere else but in Quancy’s arms.

After a few songs, Quancy’s gaze fell on something off to the side. Poppy looked back and saw a blonde girl dressed in a pink gown with the same color mask, sitting all by herself. She spun the liquid in her drink miserably.

“I’ve never seen someone look so lonely before,” Poppy commented, their dance coming to a halt.

“Me either,” Quancy said, though that wasn’t necessarily the reason he had picked her out of the crowd.

“Do you know her?” Poppy asked.

“I’m not sure. She seems awfully familiar, but I can’t quite pinpoint it. Which is odd, because I am awfully good with faces.”

“Well, she is wearing a mask.” Poppy released him, stepping back. “You should invite her to dance.”

“Really?”

“Yes. No one should be that sad. I am sure a man as handsome and charming as yourself asking her to dance will shoo away whatever is bothering her at once.”

“But I am engaged to you,” Quancy said and raised an eyebrow. Poppy pushed him away lightly.

“And you always will be. But that poor dear will never again get the chance to experience this magic. It has been extra special for me, so I want it to be the same for her. Besides, it is just a dance. And I can tell the familiarity is bugging you. Go. Have a good time. My feet need a break anyway.”

Quancy bent forward and kissed her cheek. “You are a saint, my darling.”

“And you are a good man, my beloved.”

He approached the sad girl, with drooping bows in her golden hair, and spoke. They exchanged a few words, and soon he was whisking her across the dance floor as a smile appeared on her pale lips.

Poppy headed back to the punch fountain, the line now gone, and helped herself to another glass of the delicious drink.

“Congratulations,” a voice said behind her. She whirled around to see Lindon, a smirk on the visible portions of his face.

“Beg pardon?”

“If you want.”

“What…um…what are you talking about?”

“You’re engagement, of course. To the pinhead dancing with another woman.” Lindon pointed, expecting an enraged response from Poppy who simply frowned. At Lindon.

“He is not a pinhead. I asked him to dance with the lovely girl because she seemed down, and I thought the invitation might cheer her up.”

“And I am sure he is on the same page as you on the matter.”

“I know what you are trying to do,” she said and squinted at him. “You are trying to get into my head, to manipulate me because it is what you do. But it won’t work. Everything is exactly how I want it.”

“Is that so?” Lindon asked, and though she knew his rhetorical question was part of his ploy, it still sent an uneasy feeling down her spine. Poppy quickly brushed it aside, firmly placed the glass down and spoke sharply.

“Yes, it is,” Poppy stated and spun on her heel, back toward her table. But Lindon, much like a sly tom cat weaving around your shins to make you stumble, was in front of her.

“I didn’t mean to offend you, Sprout, I simply wanted to make sure everything is alright.”

“Well it is perfectly fine, thank you. Now, good evening, sir.” Poppy tried to stomp away but again he stopped her, again without touching her.

“Can I make it up to you? With a dance, perhaps?”

Poppy wanted to say no, but if she did he would win. Refusing would mean he had gotten to her. The only way she was going to succeed was if she danced and acted like it wasn’t anything special. So, with an equally sly expression, she accepted his outstretched hand and they moved through the crowd and onto the gold floor.

The music changed to a livelier tune. The floor cleared for the most part, and a spot light fell on Poppy and Lindon. Before she could do anything, his hands were touching her, and they were moving across the floor. The silver from their contact sizzled not unlike the nerves where his fingers lingered. Even though he wasn’t touching bare skin, he caused her flesh to tingle. And he seemed to know it, for the grin on his face grew.

As much as she hated to think it, Lindon was a better dancer than Quancy. Not by a great deal, but by enough to notice. And notice Quancy did, from the side, all alone, since the blonde wrapped in pink had vanished. Lindon swept across the floor, letting Poppy go with just one hand grabbing hers as she nearly touched the crowed that “oohed” and “awed”, for magic seemed to be created from their very motions. He dipped her more than once, twirled her so fast her gown bloomed around her, and for the finale of their embrace, held her high above his head as the reflections from the chandeliers above radiated with the colors of her gown, showering the room in sparks of red, orange, yellow, gold, and purple.

When her feet touched the floor once more, silver melted across it, completely engulfing the gold. Poppy was breathing hard, a smile on her face. As she stared into Lindon’s eyes, she forgot all about her fiancé and even the fact that they weren’t alone in the room.

“Apology accepted,” she breathed, her arms around his neck, his arms around her waist.

“I’m glad.”

#short fiction #magic #masquerade #writing #writers #original story #fantasy

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