◎ c h a r l i e (spinnets) wrote in valesco,
@ 2011-12-26 23:36:00

Entry tags:

anya kalinnikov, billie trimble, carys llewellyn, charles spinnet, delilah spinnet, group, joey jenkins, mirabelle jasper, octavius pepper, penelope fawcett, rose knightley, rupert brookstanton, seth wadcock, therese bonaccord, victoria cadwallader, zoey moran

NEW YEAR'S EVE POST
It felt good to be the host of the party, and not the one creating a scene and making an entrance. Though Charlie would never admit it, the therapy sessions with Healer Bonaccord had...well, he still wasn't happy with everything going on in his life, but it had given him an outlet other than the bar, and that was allowing him let out the pent up stress he'd been bottling in. It was hard to figure things out by yourself, and for someone whose ego was as fragile as his, Charlie was slowly realizing that he needed a complete stranger to release his anxieties.

Of course, he wouldn't feel like he'd completely found peace until he managed to get her in the sack, but that was just a personal goal of his.

At any rate, Charlie was finding that being the host was interesting. Everyone knew you were going to be there, so there wasn't a great surprise when they saw you, but after those greetings were done they were off to see who else had shown up. It looked like a good outcome, but Charlie felt a bit slighted as it was pretty deep into the night and a certain invitee had not appeared in the crowd. With a breath he pushed the door open to the balcony and stepped out into the cool December night.

He stuck his hands into his pockets, spotting some displays of fireworks over the tops of the surrounding buildings. Charlie grinned at the early celebrations and let his shoulder sag.

ooc: guests = quidditch related people + their guest?

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perfectblack
2011-12-27 04:11 pm UTC (link)

Penelope stared at the invitation for what seemed like ever. When she realized what she was doing, she stuffed it beneath a cushion on the sofa and sat on it. That only made it worse, because now she was thinking about it independently of holding the invitation, so she pulled it back out and openly stared at it. She hadn't heard from him in months. Why would she? The best explanation for this, she reasoned, was the guest-list included box seats holders and/or acquaintances. The worst, she suspected, was him taunting her. When Dianna caught her and pried it out of her guiltily tense grip, she decreed it an irresistibly romantic gesture she was honour-bound to return, which Penelope stewed over the following days. It could be closure, she finally decided. Closure was good.

That evening, Dianna laced her up, fluffed her hair, drawn on a face, and lectured her on how to behave and what to do. Mingle, but play hard to get. She then detailed the plan of attack, saying do a little of this, but not too much of that, and absolutely refrain from doing… something. Amidst her internal dialog of panic, Penelope lost some of her friend's coaching. She hoped it wasn't important.

Coming very late and lurking in the hall even later, she remembered with the nauseating gallop in heartbeat how poorly she fared with parties. It seemed as though she'd been making leaps and bounds in progress, but there was nothing like the prospect of being a writhing sardine in a tin to realize that wasn't true. She hadn't been in such a crowded room since… Since the summer, in fact. It was funny the way things came full circle. Taking a deep breath, she only hugged the walls and talked herself into approaching another person for a quarter of an hour before finding an old teammate of her brother's she liked. People were surprisingly friendly, but already keyed up for even being here, the bodies in close proximity, the darkness interspersed with the flashing light, and the heat quickly had Penelope's senses overloading.

Pushing past the man she'd been trapped in conversation with without a word, she murmured, "Need air." There had to be a terrace. Or perhaps what she needed was the exit. Whichever came first, she reasoned, as she groped blindly along the wall for a door that would lead her somewhere that was not here. Grasping a handle, she pushed open and gulped greedily at the cold, sharp air of the black London night. The palpitating stopped, the blood settled, the roaring in her ears faded, but still she slapped angrily at the wall by the door, because the panic never stopped eating away at her, never eased up so she could control it herself. Penelope sighed and looked up at the murky sky, knowing when to admit defeat. She'd quiet herself and leave. It was a vain mistake to come, she knew that now, but at least she tried. Turning toward the balcony, she noticed someone else there for the first time in her agitation.

"Sorry!" she said, feeling her cheeks heat. "I just—" her voice died in her throat.

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spinnets
2011-12-28 01:35 am UTC (link)

He'd turned immediately at the opening of the door, and could not hold back his surprise at who had interrupted his thoughts. Charlie couldn't hold back his smile, either, and he definitely owed Bonaccord a bouquet of flowers. She had not so subtly suggested to talk to Penelope now that things seemed to be settling down on both of their ends. Charlie couldn't figure out if owling her to meet up for lunch or sending her an invitation to the party was the best way to go, and after he'd sent the invite he felt like a bloody coward. It was the easiest way, definitely; he had hoped he'd be distracted enough to not notice if she had shown up, but what was the point in asking her to come? She knew some players, for sure, but...

She was beautiful. Charlie had always thought she was, and tonight she sparkled in her gown and under the moonlight and beneath the fireworks. It took him a moment to knock himself out of the stupor she always put him in to realize that she seemed stressed, and he started toward her to help, but then stopped. She'd looked up and now his face was as red as the quaffles he caught. He felt like he'd been caught, like she was here to demand why he'd sent her the invitation, but he had no answer, not one he could verbalize.

His hand went to his hair, hoping that she didn't bolt away and out of his life forever, again. Charlie wanted so bad to just smile and hug her and be happy that she'd come, but he knew that it couldn't be that easy. Not with her behavior and definitely not with how he had been conducting himself. She deserved better and so did he.

"Is this a habit of yours?" he asked softly, a slow grin forming, "Ducking out of parties through strange doors?"

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perfectblack
2011-12-28 02:47 am UTC (link)

She wanted to smile. She wanted to cry. She wanted to run at him and kiss him senseless. So like always, she did nothing, and for once, it felt like the right thing to do. The urge to touch him might have been so strong she needed to fist her hands and hide them behind her back, but Penelope needed a moment, just a moment, to catch her breath. With the blood pounding in her ears, it was a miracle she could hear or think, but her mind was tripping over itself trying to understand what was happening.

"I seem to find better company this way," she said a little uncertainly, taking slow, small steps away from the door and toward him.

Her initial embarrassment had fled, but Penelope still felt her heart hammering uneasily, and realized she suddenly felt scared of him. It was baseless (or rather, it was not because he had done anything) but she did not think she could bear it if he hated her—or worse, deemed her irrelevant to him— for the way she treated him. But he should. Penelope even expected it, but she could not say it wouldn't kill her a little, if he did. And if this conversation meant she had to hear it, she wasn't certain she wanted it to continue. But she was more than that, now. If there were tears welling in her eyes from earlier, she blinked them away and straightened her spine. If the urge to wrap her arms around him felt overpowering still, she remembered why she walked away. Not childish, not selfish, not this time.

Stopping, her hands twisting nervously behind her back, she looked up at him to say, "Charles, I—I am sorry. For before. I couldn't—" the tears she'd been proud of holding back threatened to sneak into her voice, slither out the corner of her eyes, "I just want you to know I'm sorry."

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spinnets
2011-12-30 02:26 am UTC (link)

He felt a flush he hadn't felt in months. Charlie watched her twitch and stutter and draw herself closer to him but he couldn't make a move. He didn't know if he could, or if he should, but it didn't matter because he was rooted to the ground. It had not been a hard conclusion to make that he had fallen for the girl in front of him, even without his therapy Charlie would all but admit to himself that the breakup and the fallout was what had forced him to find some form of comfort.

Merlin's beard, he was a mess. A mess he wouldn't admit, and had not managed to say out loud, but Charlie knew his behavior wasn't exactly savory. He didn't like being the bad guy. He liked being liked, he liked being the center of attention, but to get the attention it seemed like you had to go out of your way to cause a scene. He couldn't win, and being unable to help Penelope through the mess she had been in (was still in?) had felt like he'd foiled something that was actually giving him everything he needed.

Staring at her reminded him of everything he'd missed about them. Penny would listen to him, she'd actually take the time to understand him and---yes, yes a lot of their time together was spent snogging and more but had there been a bird he'd shacked up with more than once in the course of these past few months? Had there been one to capture his attention so fully and vividly?

He shook his head at her apology, even though it was what he had wanted to hear. Charlie wasn't noble enough to not think that he had gotten the short end of the whole ordeal, but he wouldn't blame her for it. He had, but it was clearer now that she honestly felt like it was the best thing to do.

"I didn't think you'd come," he croaked, having unconsciously moved with her step by step to close the space between them. His smile made him look almost delirious, and he hadn't had a drink in over an hour, "You didn't---thank you for coming."

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perfectblack
2011-12-30 06:52 am UTC (link)

The movement had brought him close now, enough to touch. It bordered on painful, keeping herself in check against him. "I didn't think you'd want me," she whispered, afraid that speaking louder would break whatever metaphorical spell weaved around them.

Why had she come, though? In Penelope's mind, she thought to say good-bye. To give Charles the say she'd never allowed him and promise a final exodus. Now, though she dared not think it to herself in any certain terms, hope was newly awakened and vicious with it. When Charles had said to her he thought he might start to love her, she knew that's where the core of her fear lay. What he felt for her, yes, because she could (and had) hurt him, but even more, the depths of her feelings for him. How to explain the inexplicable way he brought back noise and sensation and light into her colourless existence? That he reminded her her heart still beat and blood still pumped and lungs still respired. That even though it hurt and tore and stung, she was still living even when those she loved most had left, and though it was a struggle, she could do it again. Penelope believed one day she would have learned this, that her bleak life could not have been sustained forever, and at another time, perhaps by another person, she'd have seen. But however incidentally, it was Charles who had shown her, and for that, she was glad.

She felt the lack of hat keenly now, wishing to shield the naked emotion playing across her face. Could she touch him now? It felt like she played the instigator, so was it selfish if it were once more she who breached this abhorrent vacuum between them? Unclasping her hands from behind her back, one reached forward to this handsome man, to rest against his chest, and stopped, just a hairsbreadth away as hesitation overcame her. This was all frightening and enticing, and until a moment ago, she'd thought hopeless. And even now, it was such a small thing, because they were still the same two people to each other as they had been in September. If he knew about her circumstances, it wasn't by her doing. For all she knew of his life, Charles might be seeing someone. Though she was sure everything had, still in a way nothing was changed.

"I've made such a dreadful mess of everything, haven't I?" Penelope murmured half to herself, drawing her hand back a fraction. A time-out was what she wanted, a moment where nothing counted.

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spinnets
2012-01-02 08:28 pm UTC (link)

Of course he'd wanted her. She was all he'd wanted since he walked away from her that chance afternoon. Charlie knew that things had changed, that she had changed and that he had definitely become someone new, but the jumping of his heart in his chest was behaving as if it had found a time turner and had gone back to before. Before all her secrets had been ripped open, before he'd allowed himself to be swallowed by the danger of his celebrity. He felt carefree and young again, and some voice in the back of his head knew that it was the excitement of seeing her, that this very moment and feeling could possibly not last once they stepped off this balcony, but he was going to take advantage of it.

His hand shot up to take a hold of hers, pulling it to his chest. Charlie's friends and family's had been trying to capture his attention for the past three months but no one had come close to the absolute transfixed state he was in now with Penelope Fawcett.

"I wish I could figure out something remarkable to say," Charlie said, his grip on her hand tightening. His other hand went up to the side of her face, his fingertips grazing her cheek before finding a hold in her hair. He smiled, having missed her so much. "But all I can think about is kissing you."

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perfectblack
2012-01-03 01:57 am UTC (link)

Penelope shook her head, because she didn't want remarkable words, didn't need them, except for one, except yes, because in that moment she dared to hope for it. The way she had missed Charles, she didn't even know the extent of it until she had seen him. There was a thudding in her chest that almost hurt. She didn't remember a heart beat ever being this painful before, but she couldn't recall a time when it felt as though it had swelled to twice its size, either. Maybe her wish was coming true, because slowly it felt like fighting with her brother, school, anything before and outside of this moment was irrelevant and didn't count. Penelope was gladder for it.

She had played a game with herself, sometime past, when she couldn't tell between dreaming and waking, though the circumstances were much bleaker then. It used to be when she dared not think anything a dream, but here was just the opposite. Though she knew this must be taking place, even with the fantasy-like quality of the encounter, Penelope still could not quite convince herself that it was. "Real or not real," she said softly, closing her eyes. "Are you truly standing here? Is this—really happening, or is it my imagination?" And though she was still clutching him, could feel him there, she was hesitant to open them. Hallucinations could seem tactile. Auditory illusions existed. She knew she couldn't trust her eyes, so kept them shut. But she didn't care now, because it was the best one she could remember having.

Stepping even closer, she clasped his hand in both of hers and rose up on her toes. Leaning into him so her lips were just a sigh away from his, Penelope's grip on his front tightened. "Please kiss me even if it is."

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spinnets
2012-01-03 03:37 am UTC (link)

How could she expect him to form words when her mouth was so close? Charlie felt as if his mind had started to burst into tiny explosions, and whether or not it actually was occurring or the fireworks in the literal sky were starting to go off, he could not tell. He just nodded, unable to answer her question because he bent at the knees, gravitating towards her to seal their distance with a kiss. Charlie wrapped himself around her small frame and pulled Penny as close to him as possible, the ache he'd been carrying around in his chest finally bursting. It was like he'd been walking around, alone and confused for the past three months and now he knew exactly what he'd been searching for.

Merlin---he never wanted to leave this balcony. Charlie knew that this fairy tale of a moment wouldn't and couldn't last forever, but he had no desire to go back to the real world and deal with the mistakes they've both made, he didn't want to try to repair things with her family, he just---he wanted Penelope and the idea that they could be happy together to last him through the night.

"Real, real," he managed to say when he broke away for quick, split seconds. Please let it be real, he needed this happiness more than he'd realized.

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perfectblack
2012-01-03 04:17 am UTC (link)

To say she clung to him was an understatement. Even to ignore everything else, the intellectual, the emotion, to rely just on the physicality of their relationship, she still felt something with Charles she never had before. This was real, it had to be, because merely thinking it wasn't hurt too much. In reality, it scared her, and even hurt her a little on some level, but it was so much better than not having it. Which she hadn't, could only have imagined a pale imitation of, for three long months. A quarter of the year that was coming to a close.

Her eyes fluttered open at the thought, and she paused for a brief second, looking up at the burst of lights exploding in the sky in earnest now. There was the far away sound of cheering, whether from distance or from their unwillingness to be a part of anything happening outside of their balcony, she couldn't say.

As the close of any period in a person's life will inevitably cause, she reflected on where she was a year ago. Charles Spinnet had not existed for her—little had. But in the space of just twelve months—perhaps even less—there was suddenly everything. Right in this precious moment, she felt like she had everything. Curling her hands around his broad shoulders, at the nape of his neck, she broke the kiss but rested her forehead against his. "It's the new year, Charles," she whispered, laughing a little because part of her still disbelieved, because it was the happiest, the best she'd felt since even her shining old memories had a haze of sadness and she didn't know it was possible to feel this way. Penelope kissed him soundly and mumbled against his lips, "Happy 1983."

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