AN: The NC-17 version of this chapter can be found at http / foggynite/ burro/ EEG6 .html You can cut and paste from here (making the following corrections: a semi colon and another backslash after http, a sideways squiggle in front of foggynite, delete spaces between characters) or you can go to my site through my profile and access it at Burrow Deep. Pain in the ass, but them's the breaks.
She enters the main hall like the whisper of falling leaves. She brings with her a heavy cloak of anger and pride.
Heads are turning her way, murmurs from people who haven't been keeping up on their gossip. Some of the onlookers admire her. Others do not. There are no members of Circle Twilight present. She tells herself she does not care what these people think, doesn't care what they say about her as she passes.
There is one costume she is looking for this night. One reason to venture out in this world of madness she has grown so weary of. She imagines the picture they will present, when they stand together. The iciest of blues, sparkles and gauze, and crimson red, encrusted with leather like dried blood. And that is when she smiles, as the faces around her glaze over with admiration.
She could own them, if she desired. But there is only one person worth corrupting this night. She's waited over a month for the chance, through hour long phone calls at least four nights a week and Hannah's curiosity and threats from her old coven.
But she doesn't care about all that. She'll get to see Iliana tonight, and then they can catch up in person. She tells herself it's the excitement of the party that has her heart racing. She would never be so stupid as to get herself worked up over seeing a… date. But they haven't come here together, have they?
The mansion is crowded, security at every entrance, and the mob parts unconsciously as Blaise cuts through. Hannah is holding court on one side of the main ballroom, shyly smiling at sincere and insincere compliments alike. Blaise's bodice creaks a little as she leans forward to kiss the air beside Hannah's cheeks, once then twice. Her acknowledgement of Thierry is just as warm, and he accepts her air-kisses with a suffering grace she has to smile at. He is skillfully lurking beyond Hannah's shoulder and letting her do most of the socializing, mock-scowling at the crowd in his fop's outfit. Hannah said he had it tailored from memory. The cut looks good on him.
Easily, Blaise falls into the circle thronging the Lord and Lady, paying half attention to the conversation as she scans the room for sparkles and gauzy wings. Unfortunately, there are quite a few blue costumes present. Hannah should have kept her dress-discovery a secret.
The awed murmuring clues her in first, like a wave breaking around her. Admiration for the Witch Child and her escorts, including the son of the First House, who are all dressed as though they came from Mab's court. Straining, her ears can pick up the faint jingle of bells. It seems her graduation present for the girl arrived on time. Not that she would admit she sent it. She doesn't have to, honestly.
The Witch Child's group draws closer, and Hannah catches Blaise's eye. The knowing grin on her face makes Blaise frown skeptically and turn her head to study the people dancing on the other side of the room.
"Hannah! Thierry!" Iliana arrives in a flurry of glitter, eyes wide and face bright with happiness as she embraces her hosts. "Oh, it's all so beautiful! Everyone looks wonderful and it's just like a fairy tale!"
Her effusive greeting is tolerated by Thierry, who brushes stray sparkles off his coat. "I have to agree. It has far surpassed my expectations, but then, Hannah usually does…"
Hannah blushes a becoming shade of pink, smiling shyly. "Blaise planned most of the decorations. I just organized the rest."
"Which was the hardest part, undoubtedly," Blaise says dryly. She tries to maintain an aloof expression but Iliana has turned to her, and—
She's stunning. A vision that makes Blaise's stomach drop and her skin flush, and she feels as though she's standing in front of the sun, about to be consumed. Iliana's costume is nothing but a slip of a blue dress, layered by gossamer material that floats when she moves. Her legs and arms are bare, save for the string of tiny bells wrapped around her ankle and wrist. Her sandals are held on by thin straps and make Blaise want to touch her perfect feet. A shimmery patina of body glitter covers her limbs and her cheeks, making her skin opalescent in the candlelight. Her eyes have just enough make-up to accent the startling violet color, and her hair has been artfully piled on top of her head, blue-streaked strands escaping in a messy halo. Her wings start above her head and end mid-thigh, delicately veined with blue.
She glows and radiates warmth and doesn't even realize it. If Blaise's costume of leather and tulle, all spiked edges and darkness, garnered admiring glances, the looks Iliana receives are of blind worship.
But Iliana is smiling just for her, as though the rest of the ball has ceased to exist. And Blaise has to smile back, can feel the tense lines of her body softening. Weakening, but she doesn't mind. She's learned to accept it in the past two months.
They don't touch, Blaise doesn't trust herself to be able to stop, but Iliana looks as though she's been kissed anyway. Color in her cheeks and a breathless quality.
Galen interrupts the moment unwittingly, addressing Thierry and Hannah in the lull. He's in garnished woodsman attire, looking like he's covered in brown and green leaves, golden glitter liberally applied to no doubt appease the Witch Child. Nissa and Winnie are hanging back from the group, having greeted their hosts, and are in costumes similar to Iliana's, only with pants and not skirts. Keller keeps swiping at the glitter on her own face, standing stoically next to Galen, and she obviously fought for her practical black costume. She looks like the tooth fairy from hell.
"This was a great idea, Lady Hannah," Galen says with his quiet intensity. "I don't think I've seen this many witches and shapeshifters peacefully gathered before in my life. And even my parents are dressed for the occasion, which left us all shocked, I must admit."
It's said with a kind smile and Hannah laughs. "I was so excited when they agreed to come. I was afraid not many people would want to."
"And miss the biggest social event of the year?" Keller asks with a sarcastic arch of an eyebrow. There's a teasing edge to it, though, so no one takes offense.
"Everyone kept asking me if I was coming," Iliana says guilelessly. "It's all the girls at school would talk about."
"And a bodyguard's worst nightmare," Keller mutters.
"Don't worry," Thierry smiles dangerously. "We had the best witches available ward the perimeters, and there is an entire troop of guards on duty."
"Not to mention the party-goers themselves," Galen adds, and nudges Keller's shoulder affectionately, expression fond. She rolls her eyes and hides her grin.
"So," Iliana seizes the opportunity. "If it's so safe, that means I can dance, right?"
No one is going to argue with her when she uses that tone of voice. It makes Blaise proud, but then the violet gaze zeroes in on her and she frowns.
"Surely you jest," she says when Iliana just looks at her expectantly.
"You said you'd save me the first dance," Iliana pouts. Blaise is unimpressed.
"That wasn't meant to be taken seriously." Her tone is discouraging. Iliana ignores it, as usual.
"Too bad. You still said it."
The rest of the group is watching the exchange with a myriad of reactions. Thierry looks faintly amused, while Hannah is trying not to smile. Keller and Winnie are trying to hide their disapproval (and for once Blaise wishes they'd interrupt before it's too late), while Galen is obviously confused. Nissa keeps her face expressionless.
Other people are starting to notice and Blaise would rather it be somewhere she can easily ignore them.
"Fine."
Iliana smiles and takes her hand before she can change her mind. Blaise sighs once, but lets Iliana pull her into the crowd. The live orchestra is playing a waltz. Grandma Harman's lessons come back to her as they take up position in line. They're not the only odd couple out on the ballroom floor, and she wonders where Iliana learned the steps, and what others she knows.
As the dance begins in earnest, she loses herself to the beat and the movement of her body, and Iliana's smiling eyes.
The party is winding down, most of the masqueraders retiring for the evening. Blaise finds herself wandering through the french doors to the cobbled patio, smothering a smile when she hears the soft jingle of bells following her.
"Oy, is it crowded in there..." A childish voice says, perhaps trying to cover the click of the door handles.
"Not as bad as earlier..." Blaise continues to stare out into the night. Iliana steps up to her side, body radiating heat despite the flimsy costume.
"I'm surprised your bodyguards let you wear that," Blaise murmurs quietly, running a finger along the silk at Iliana's shoulder. The fabric clings to her like a second skin.
"Winnie tried to veto it, believe me," Iliana says with a laugh, nose doing her little scrunching thing. Blaise has the urge to poke it playfully and finds her hand halfway there before she changes its course. And she says that she can't help herself. She has to reach out and touch that glittering skin, see if it's as firm as it looks. The tension she's sensed between them all evening makes her bold.
Iliana sidesteps her questing fingertips with a giggle. "I'm ticklish!"
A predatory smile breaks Blaise's composure. "Oh really?"
More giggles, the soft tinkling of the bells, and Iliana's leaving a trail of glitter behind her. It's covering Blaise's fingers, marking her, declaring her crimes for all to see. But she can't help it, honestly. Two months of easy conversations, laughter and moments of comfortable silence, and a shared kiss in her workshop hanging in the space between them. They haven't really spoken yet tonight, but there's not much to catch up on besides Iliana's flight in, and the silence of the garden is not for such trivialities.
The playful look Iliana throws her is almost coy, as the girl slips further down the darkened path. And Blaise wonders who is playing what game. Who will win and who will be lost.
The water fountain is a soft hush off to her right. The ghost of Iliana's glitter and tinkling bells leads her further into the shadowed eaves of the evergreens, like Ariel luring Ferdinand to his doom. When the noise of the party has faded, with only the cry of feasting bats overhead, Iliana turns to her, smiles brightly, fondly. Blaise wonders if her own expression is as sweet.
When Iliana reaches for her, she forgets about the stares they received all evening. The whispers, and the hovering bodyguards who are probably looking for Iliana right now. It's just them, stealing a moment of time.
Delicate fingers in her hair, running along her temples until she closes her eyes, and she's unsurprised that Iliana is taking the first step. One thing she has learned is that the Witch Child is always direct once she has made up her mind. And her plans seem to include pulling Blaise close to her, close enough that their breaths mingle in the cooling night air, and the teasing touch makes Blaise's gut clench. Two months of imagining this, dreaming this. Wanting this.
With a groan, she lets her hands close around that perfect waist, fingers digging into solid flesh. Iliana's mouth is sugary from the punch, delicate pink tongue so slick and filling as Blaise sucks it into her own mouth.
The hands in her hair slide lower to cup her neck and chin, then down to the leather-covered small of her back, pulling her forward. They languidly move together, towards a stone wall of the garden. Iliana's back hits mossy concrete, wings spreading flat, and Blaise spares a quick thought for dirt stains and ruined make-up, then decides that she likes the thought of leaving her mark. Staking her claim indelibly.
There is no hesitation in her movements, no chance for doubts or worries. Just need, pure and unadulterated.
After Iliana's shaking limbs slide limply down her back, Blaise pulls away gently, gazing down at the girl's hazy violet eyes. Iliana's make-up is smeared beyond repair now, sweat making the colors run. Blaise decides she likes having the girl flushed and panting beneath her.
"What can I...?" Iliana finally asks softly, gesturing at Blaise with a slender arm. Pulling the girl close by the back of her neck, Blaise slides her tongue into that perfect mouth.
"You can come home with me tonight..." And she tries to put as much promise in her voice as she ever has, wills Iliana to agree as though she might control the girl with her thoughts.
The brilliant smile she's rewarded with makes it all worthwhile.
"Okay."
And as they head back to the party, Blaise debates washing Iliana's musk from her hand. Likes the idea of being marked, trailed by her very own debauched fairy. Spares a moment to be afraid, because she might not want to let Iliana go again.
She dreams that she's on the sidewalk again, trying to hold her grandmother together, trying to put the pieces back because she can't be gone. Can't be dead. But she is and there's steam rising from the pavement and tears running down her cheeks and she's crying, for the first time since it happened, and this isn't how the dream is supposed to go…
She wakes with thin, strong arms around her. A soothing voice above her head, whispering in rhythm with the rocking, and there's a cool breeze coming through her window. Tears are on her face, one of those dreams where you wake up quietly sobbing and don't realize it. Iliana is a sticky heat against her back, refusing to let her go when it seems like she might try to flee. She holds on until the tears dry up.
And Blaise starts to believe that maybe… Maybe sometimes she can have what she wants, and be happy with it.
Finito.