Nuptials (redacted; late Hunter series scene)

No harm in a little dancing. --- Boy, is he wrong.

She comes to him when the dancing is in full swing already, and the punch has gotten a refill at least two times, as people make free use of it today.

It’s not just a celebration—it is the celebration of the year. Maybe even the decade. Were this just a wedding feast, people would normally behave a bit more… reserved. At least at this early hour. The sun has just gone down. The moon is not even fully up yet, but the colorful lights, blazing torches, and massive fires make more than up for that. It would have been a joyous occasion either way, but the Treaty just having been signed, the Peace Declaration just out makes this more than just a wedding feast. Poor XXXX to always have more important events encroach upon whatever times he’s set long before, no matter what he plans. It has people so elated and simply relieved that the feast threatens to turn into one massive party that the whole city seems to want in on, not just the ones who were initially invited. The party reaches much further. The whole city has been turned into one big celebration, people dancing and singing in the streets. And since even the guards are more relaxed—most of them joining the throngs before the buffets, the massive punch bowls, the caskets full of wine and beer and whatever else you might think of since XXXX declared it a Go! on clearing out the cellar for the extra occasion, or even joined the dancing on the big square, the field, or have gone to their families in the streets by now since there simply is no longer anything to guard—people just come and go as they please. XXXX and his freshly anointed wife seem to be enjoying themselves despite the unforeseen additional mass of people. In fact, they have already left for their own private … celebrations. The square has been turned into a party after the intended party.

Is this what emboldens her? The anonymity of the mass influx giving her leave? Or is it more that it’s half a stranger that came back, one who couldn’t care less about who’s watching? […] This one is… softer? And yet, at the same time also cheekier than the rebel ever was, if in a rather new way. Less aggressive, and yet more direct. Very straightforward, too. There’s no meek question from her as she has done before, during that last celebration before all that, trying to convince him that it might be fun to take a gander at dancing. There’s no longer a lack of experience showing in her either. This storm of a fiery beauty in front of him knows her dances very well. She’s had a lot of them during those years gone by in the blink of an eye, it seems. No longer searching for a tenuous grasp on what steps might be called for until she falls in step with his lead. This one’s moving like flowing water that simply takes him with it in a rush of light and warmth and laughter.

“Hey there, beautiful”, are her first words. “What’s got you all withdrawn to this dark corner, looking so dejected? Need someone to lighten you up a little?” A heavy dose of twinkling in her eyes and the chuckle in her warm tone tells him she’s teasing him before even the following wink that’s more than just a little overdone, just in case he’d be too slow on the uptake.

Her drawl is imitating XXX’s, of all people. She really seems to have it out for him today, knowing full well by now why he disliked the poor guy so much from the start, how he wasn’t even truly responsible for that, despite the charming behavior he disliked as well, due to quite different reasons. Seems those latter reasons are what she’s here for. They do have an open account on that talk, she’s not wrong about it.

Before he can even start to think of an answer, she smilingly takes his hand in hers, stroking his palm ever so softly with her thumb. Carefully soothing. Don’t take it too hard, her eyes seem to say. Let me joke a little, will you? Just to lighten the mood a bit. It’s been long enough.

“Come dance with me,” is what she says out loud. Full stop. No question mark. No harm in a little dancing. Is there?

Boy, is he wrong. But there’s just something about her that silences every single one of his doubts today. She’s a stranger. An intoxicating one at that. Her warm smile seems familiar, one he very much loves, but that’s about it. Even her scent has … changed. [… He remembers the tidal flood that hit him back when. The way it threatened to crush choice.] This is different. As if she’s holding back consciously, knowing too well what it could do. Careful not to spook him? Or just unwilling to subject him to anything that he might count as an influence on his judgement. Her scent is just a hint. But welcoming like a warm blanket in winter, a cozy fire in the night. Like that warm smile of hers. Nothing threatening, nothing overwhelming. It does seem familiar, but… it’s the familiarity the allure of a stranger begets. A Seeming only. Nothing is familiar about this. It is his steps that almost falter this time around, confused by it all. She just adjusts to it, and takes it in stride. Gives him all the time in the world to come around to his senses.

Only when he’s fully present again, having taken her all in, become familiar with the new situation, does she change the pace.

The whole dance, really. She’s just been moving with the mass so far, joined the general dancing, and floated him along like a buoyant sea, while he somehow feels almost like that young man again, barely more than a boy, all those years back, who just made his first steps on the dance floor. He can’t help the inward chuckle. It was an older girl back then, too, who carried him along. Very skillfully making it seem as if he were the one leading all along, while he most certainly wasn’t, adjusting for his every misstep. How has she become as skillful as that in just a few years? […]

There’s a reason he needs a bit of time to find his figurative, if not quite literal, footing again and come back into his own. She’s grown wise, indeed. For a moment, she’s more of a matron to his boy, the warmth of a mother enveloping him with tender love and care. But only for a moment. As soon as he’s back to his normal self again, his old self, her tack changes, as if the Mother had never been there. It’s confusing to see her change so quickly, and yet… it does confirm what she also told him. Also years ago. We are change. […] She doesn’t look confused today. Just understanding.

“I’m sorry”, she says, as if she just read his mind. “I know what Lisara meant, now. I should never have grown up around humans. Or maybe, if at least you didn’t… But I guess you’ve always been more human than I ever was.” She’s floating along with him, the two of them dancing to their own tune, quite different from all the rest. “You were right, I guess. It was too early. For you. I’m sorry I didn’t understand. Even knowing I couldn’t. I shouldn’t have pressured you like that.”

He looks at those deep, deep eyes, surprised, and wonders. Who is with him today? Her. This is her. The true her, something whispers in the back of his mind. The same thing that instinctively knows how she feels. The one that knew what to look for when trying to get her back, even though he didn’t consciously know what he was looking for. That strange bond between them that never quite vanished, no matter how she changed. The same one that let him recognize her when she’d had her first change […]. And still he knew her.

It’s something about her scent, isn’t it? No matter how laid back it is now. How toned down. How different, or how changed. There’s always this one, clear note that sticks out. That’s always been her, in all her forms. He’d know her anywhere, anytime, no matter what she looks like. No matter what persona she currently incorporates, there’s always that last little … shred of her. He doesn’t even remember when he first came to know it. Does it matter? that small voice asks.

It doesn’t, he decides. It’s fine. She’s here now.

“Are you okay now?”

Is he? He looks around, still a bit unsure himself. This is all feels… almost like a dream. The joyous people all around, the fireworks overhead, all that laughter. It’s been years since he’s been to something like this. He might just feel slightly overwhelmed. But that’s the outside. Not her. He nods.

“I’m okay. This... is quite alright.”

He smiles, a little self-consciously. Maybe even a little self-deprecating. It’s not her fault. And it wasn’t. It’s always been mine.

She chuckles. “I see you haven’t changed much.” She takes his cheek in her warm hand and turns his face to hers. “Don’t do that. It’s not true. You’re not the monster you make yourself. Far from it.”

She is reading his surface thoughts, isn’t she? Hello…? Listening in, are we?

They both share a little laugh.

As if I could help it, is what her response turns out to be. You were the one who told me this goes both ways, remember?

He does. It makes him chuckle again. He teased her that day, about how she might need to get better at controlling her emotions if she doesn’t want him to get a taste of them. Was he emotional just now? Guess I was.

And what emotions are those?

Their floating dance takes them further away from the throng, gives him more room to breathe. They have somehow ended up in the fields, further away from the walls they were inside seemingly just a few moments ago. When has that happened? Truth is, he’s not sure. He hasn’t really been thinking about it. He only knows that this feels … good. Her hand lingers on his neck, where it has somehow come to rest, playful fingers trailing through a short lock of his hair that has managed to escape the bounds of the leather thong he keeps his long hair bound with.

“Good. I hope you don’t mind this then”, she says.

Her hand moves back to his cheek, caressing it with her thumb, then to his chin, to drag his face closer. Her eyes are dancing, too. Her lips, so close to his own, are smiling. A rather insolent smile, at that. She takes leave of his chin suddenly, as well as his dancing lead, turning around into a quick gyration, winking at him, then takes ahold of his elbow with her own, turning them both. Quickly at that, too. Had he not been back in full, he would’ve stumbled for sure. As it is, his experience and natural grace save him from that.

He adjusts just as quickly as she has shown herself able to do these days during the dance from inside the city’s boundaries to out here, where there’s more space. It elicits a small, happy laugh from her anyway, her eyes twinkling like stars. He loves that smile in her eyes. Loves the throaty sound of that laughter as well. This new stranger is quickly growing on him.

Almost as quickly as his heart turns up the beat to adjust for the new steps. He knows this dance. Knows it quite well, in fact. It doesn’t belong in this time, nor this place. It’s also not quite as innocent as all the ones she chose before.

It lets her get close, trailing her fingers across his arms and upper body, his neck and sometimes his cheek. He’s almost surprised how silent any voices in his head are at that. Changed, indeed. This being here, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, doesn’t elicit quite the same, confused responses that he had before. Years before, by now. Maybe it’s because they’ve grown apart? Maybe that’s a good thing. He can’t quite make out if that was her voice or one of his own. Does he mind? Not much, he finds, surprised. Not right now, anyway. Not with her joy all around him. Not with her teasing… on him. It’s nothing like their swim in the woods, or that … accident at the lake. Maybe it’s because there’s nothing insecure about her anymore?

The words in the back of his mind get lost in their dancing. The dance is much too quick to allow for much thinking. It’s dance or fall. He can’t even stop her hands from trailing. Does he want to? He doesn’t know. He just can’t think straight. Her smile, her twinkling eyes, the insolence in everything she does, as well as the lines she keeps to… yet? … they all conspire to steal away whatever thoughts might have come up otherwise. Not fair.

She laughs. A full-belly laughter that sounds rather close to a big cat purring while it stretches before a pounce. Definitely different. She never laughed like this before. Unrestrained. And yet conscious. So very conscious of what she’s doing. Did she pick that up with the [people] she’s been running wild with lately? She picks up the pace, grabbing his upper arms. “Stop overthinking.”

Good advice, as their feet fly across the ground in matching rhythm. A rhythm that only keeps speeding up. So not fair. She somehow manages to wag a finger at him despite the whirl and rush of this dance.

Slowing time, hm? Two can play that game. The dance becomes a whole lot easier to follow, as he moves to do the same. Like this, it’s more like a usual twirl and switch dance, one or other variant of which they dance in all the villages here, too. Those dances always seem to stay the same, somehow. Must be something very basic about it all. It’s made to make you dizzy and maybe fall, and laugh a lot. That’s what it is. It’s just joy.

He catches a small nod of hers. We’ve had too little of that lately. All of us. A sentiment he can only share in. Still. Dancing like this, her trailing hands are a lot more obvious than they would otherwise be. He almost feels naked under her exploring fingers. Despite them doing nothing much, not really.

She winks at him.

Of course she knows. She knows full well what she’s doing. This woman would never do anything she isn’t fully conscious of. Her almost predatory smile only widens, showing a lot of sharp teeth. Yeah. Not human, indeed. What have I gotten myself into this time?

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite”, she jokes. “Not much anyway.” She winks at him again. “Unless you want me to, of course.” The last part is somewhere in between statement and question.

He feels unsure how to respond. That somehow seems to embolden her.

“That’s not a no”, she whispers, coming rather close to him with her next gyration. Even if it makes her almost miss his outstretched elbow to turn around the other direction.

She doesn’t seem to regret that one bit. If anything, she obviously relishes his hand that instinctively grabs her waist to keep her from falling, turning her the correct way, throwing her head back to laugh again and grab his waist with her other hand in response. His hand, too, seems to conspire with her, deciding to linger where it fell. No more turns after that. Just whirling around each other, in a challenge to see who gets dizzy first. They both end up in the grass in the end, no clear winner to this contest to be found. Both having to sit down and take a breath for a moment.

She stretches rather alluringly while doing so.

He can’t help but sneak a peek. Too much woman to look away in full. He raises a questioning eyebrow.

She only winks at him. Of course she does.

Remember? This woman does consciously whatever she does. This included.

He cranks his neck and shoulder a little until one of them pops, to get the cricks out that threaten to settle after that last rapid movement. Maybe a bit too much spins in just one direction after all. She smiles knowingly, but keeps otherwise silent. Letting him settle again. Letting their heartbeats slow down after the exertion in companionable silence, watching the other dancers. She sits up. Sidles a bit closer to lean against his shoulder. They sit there some minutes more, leaning against each other. The silence feels rather comfortable. There’s enough noise and light and whatnot from the others all around. They go ignored by all, or so it feels.

---