Nicholas D. Wolfwood (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mycrosstobear) wrote2021-11-14 03:26 pm
mycrosstobear) wrote2021-11-14 03:26 pm
Entry tags:
PSL - Cecelia
we will not be stopped
[No matter how many of the things different universes seem bizarrely determined to force him into, Wolfwood stubbornly remains not one for fancy parties. He is here, in case any dragons or evil fae or whatever turn up. But he is wearing the fancy coat that was forced on him when he arrived (a butler type had not let him any farther without meeting the dress code) under distinct protest. There's lace on the hems. He hates it.
Inside, he says hi to a few people and picks up a drink, hanging around the edges of the ballroom for a while before slipping outside. That's probably the better place to watch for danger, anyway. It's a lot quieter out on the patio.
He frowns, pausing in the middle of pulling out a cigarette. There's something almost...familiar about how the garden surrounds this space.]
Inside, he says hi to a few people and picks up a drink, hanging around the edges of the ballroom for a while before slipping outside. That's probably the better place to watch for danger, anyway. It's a lot quieter out on the patio.
He frowns, pausing in the middle of pulling out a cigarette. There's something almost...familiar about how the garden surrounds this space.]
[is it familiar? Cecelia couldn't say right away. she's been to many parties, stood in many gardens and courtyards, worn many dresses... not as many in this realm, though. not with these people.
fewer with Wolfwood.
she's lost those old diaries long, long ago - she couldn't precisely recall that particular dream right off-the-cuff. nostalgia pulls at her attention here for many different reasons as it is.
dressed to the nines as it were, Cecelia's gown glimmers in the low garden lantern lights, betraying her movements as she passes through one of the corridors lined with groomed greenery. it's not the footsteps that catch her notice first, but the smell of one of those godsawful cigarettes. she stops and turns her head, catching glimpse of his own meandering.
when he's come closer into earshot:] You've managed to last this long in such an event, mm?
fewer with Wolfwood.
she's lost those old diaries long, long ago - she couldn't precisely recall that particular dream right off-the-cuff. nostalgia pulls at her attention here for many different reasons as it is.
dressed to the nines as it were, Cecelia's gown glimmers in the low garden lantern lights, betraying her movements as she passes through one of the corridors lined with groomed greenery. it's not the footsteps that catch her notice first, but the smell of one of those godsawful cigarettes. she stops and turns her head, catching glimpse of his own meandering.
when he's come closer into earshot:] You've managed to last this long in such an event, mm?
[It must be reminding him of one of the public gardens on Earth - the previous one. He'd ended up visiting quite a few of those. That has to be it.
The footsteps do catch his attention, and he turns to see who else is out here right before she speaks. Well, Cecelia did always prefer to be surrounded by greenery. Though he can't help but notice that she's certainly dressed for the occasion taking place inside. She's glittering with every move she makes.
He smiles wryly at the question.]
The drinks weren't bad.
The footsteps do catch his attention, and he turns to see who else is out here right before she speaks. Well, Cecelia did always prefer to be surrounded by greenery. Though he can't help but notice that she's certainly dressed for the occasion taking place inside. She's glittering with every move she makes.
He smiles wryly at the question.]
The drinks weren't bad.
Careful, stray dog. [she smirks faintly, turning her head away before she can reveal too much of a smile.] You're starting to sound comfortable here.
[He blinks. Not at the "stray dog" part (that's the kind of thing he more or less expects from Cecelia, and it's not inaccurate), but...comfortable?]
Not in this coat.
[He scowls at the lace. It offends his sensibilities.]
Not in this coat.
[He scowls at the lace. It offends his sensibilities.]
Who forced you to dress up, hm?
[she turns back and starts over toward him, giving the offending coat a more appraising look.]
I'd imagine you could show up wearing a ghillie suit and still be treated an honored guest, if only on the merit of being an outworlder.
[she turns back and starts over toward him, giving the offending coat a more appraising look.]
I'd imagine you could show up wearing a ghillie suit and still be treated an honored guest, if only on the merit of being an outworlder.
[He wishes. His familiar would get a laugh out of that, at least.]
Some butler-type. Old guy with a big curly mustache.
[Wolfwood will remember this.]
Some butler-type. Old guy with a big curly mustache.
[Wolfwood will remember this.]
[her smirk fades and her expression takes on something more scrutinizing - visual wait what?]
...You...actually were forced to dress?
...You...actually were forced to dress?
...Yes?
[Cecelia, how many times have you ever seen him in something other than a rumpled black suit with no tie?
Not that he can actually come up with a number, but it'd be a small number, is his point.]
[Cecelia, how many times have you ever seen him in something other than a rumpled black suit with no tie?
Not that he can actually come up with a number, but it'd be a small number, is his point.]
...
[her mouth twitches, splitting into an incredulous smile that she quickly turns away with, letting out her breath in a gentle scoff to keep from laughing.]
Indeed, no one is free from the nonsense. I won't feel sorry for you.
[her mouth twitches, splitting into an incredulous smile that she quickly turns away with, letting out her breath in a gentle scoff to keep from laughing.]
Indeed, no one is free from the nonsense. I won't feel sorry for you.
[He saw that. As determined as she is to pretend she has no emotions, that was definitely an actual smile. And he's certain that huff was a camouflaged laugh. So this is what it takes to amuse her? At least someone is getting something out of the coat, he guesses, but she'd better not hope for a repeat performance.
He points an accusing finger.] You have never felt sorry for me in your life.
He points an accusing finger.] You have never felt sorry for me in your life.
That's extremely presumptuous. [her voice softens.] And false.
[she surveys the darkened garden, her hands folding in front of her.]
I wept for you, didn't I? Long ago. For your struggles in the past. For a childhood I naively thought was too storybook to be true.
It wasn't so long ago for you. Couldn't have been.
[she surveys the darkened garden, her hands folding in front of her.]
I wept for you, didn't I? Long ago. For your struggles in the past. For a childhood I naively thought was too storybook to be true.
It wasn't so long ago for you. Couldn't have been.
[Well, now he looks like a jerk. Nothing new in their acquaintance (nothing new in pretty much any of his acquaintances), but this time he'll admit it is, actually, the case.]
...Went too far with that. Sorry.
[For your struggles in the past. She hadn't even known most of them, and has surely forgotten more by now. But it mattered, then, and matters now.
("You don't just stop being friends with someone.")
Too storybook, huh? That's one way to put it all. He glances around the garden, back over his shoulder at the twinkling lights of the ballroom.]
Heck of a place to talk about storybooks.
[The good ol' change in topic as peace offering.]
...Went too far with that. Sorry.
[For your struggles in the past. She hadn't even known most of them, and has surely forgotten more by now. But it mattered, then, and matters now.
("You don't just stop being friends with someone.")
Too storybook, huh? That's one way to put it all. He glances around the garden, back over his shoulder at the twinkling lights of the ballroom.]
Heck of a place to talk about storybooks.
[The good ol' change in topic as peace offering.]
Mm. Many a tale has a ball, a garden... [a serendipitous meeting of individuals whose lives intertwine...]
Simply standing here leaves you open to such things. But keeping your guard up may not serve you well in such cases. [destiny seldom cares, but people do.]
Simply standing here leaves you open to such things. But keeping your guard up may not serve you well in such cases. [destiny seldom cares, but people do.]
[He raises his eyebrows.]
That supposed to be about me or you?
That supposed to be about me or you?
[with a sprinkling of haughtiness:] If it was for me, why would I speak to it aloud in such a way? [she turns her head to peer at him sidelong.] I'm passing along wisdom I seldom share, Wolfwood. Consider it a gift and do as you like with it.
A gift, huh?
[She's been so guarded in this world, at this age. Not the sharp defensiveness of when she was younger (or...less of it). But walls built over time, and carefully maintained for just as long.
Pot, kettle, black. Isn't he supposed to know better by now? But old habits make everything easier.]
...Appreciate it.
[She's been so guarded in this world, at this age. Not the sharp defensiveness of when she was younger (or...less of it). But walls built over time, and carefully maintained for just as long.
Pot, kettle, black. Isn't he supposed to know better by now? But old habits make everything easier.]
...Appreciate it.
[her mouth turns up slightly before she turns away again, tilting her head as her ears pick up on the music flowing through the windows on the building's upper floors. her exhale comes with a drooping of her shoulders.]
Meanwhile, the advice for me...must be to return to where my attention may be most necessary. [but not necessarily wanted.] Which, it seems, means we'll part ways for a time. Since you mean to escape the night.
Meanwhile, the advice for me...must be to return to where my attention may be most necessary. [but not necessarily wanted.] Which, it seems, means we'll part ways for a time. Since you mean to escape the night.
Don't think maybe you're supposed to be open to taking a break?
[She does worse at hiding how tired the idea of going back inside seems to make her than she does at hiding her little part-smiles, and she hasn't had a flawless success rate with that either.]
"May be" ain't the same as "has to be."
[She does worse at hiding how tired the idea of going back inside seems to make her than she does at hiding her little part-smiles, and she hasn't had a flawless success rate with that either.]
"May be" ain't the same as "has to be."
[she takes a moment to pick at his words and look for meanings under meaning that might hide there...all in speculation, of course - all built from scenarios lived through many times over. difference here: this is the first scenario with Wolfwood himself within it.]
Compared to now? Are you suggesting break or breakaway, I wonder.
Compared to now? Are you suggesting break or breakaway, I wonder.
[...She really does just overcomplicate things.]
I'm suggesting you don't have to go back in if you don't want to.
I'm suggesting you don't have to go back in if you don't want to.
[BECAUSE SHE MUST.]
What I want really isn't what's important here.
What I want really isn't what's important here.
[He's not going to argue that. What either of them might want isn't important here. There's a job to do. However-]
Y'know, even I knew you had to take a few hours off now and then.
[It didn't always work, in that it was perfectly likely he'd just pass out and have nightmares for those hours. But attempts were made.]
Y'know, even I knew you had to take a few hours off now and then.
[It didn't always work, in that it was perfectly likely he'd just pass out and have nightmares for those hours. But attempts were made.]
[with a dry note:] Are you worried I'll overwork?
Somethin' like that.
[It's more that he knows what it looks like when you forget yourself because of what you "need" to do.
It wears you down, blinds you to options. And eventually probably just makes things worse.]
But you're not going to listen, are you?
[Wolfwood, after all, isn't nearly as good at breaking through to people as Vash.]
[It's more that he knows what it looks like when you forget yourself because of what you "need" to do.
It wears you down, blinds you to options. And eventually probably just makes things worse.]
But you're not going to listen, are you?
[Wolfwood, after all, isn't nearly as good at breaking through to people as Vash.]
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