α м (mattias) wrote in valesco,
@ 2012-11-28 20:31:00

Entry tags:

adrian mattias, arista sykes, galvin gudgeon, group, howell williams, magnolia mattias, michal conway lynch, noah boot, nora peakes, octavius pepper, odette boot, rose knightley, saoirse mullet, seth wadcock, thomas mccormack

RECEPTION POST! FOR SATURDAY! EVERYONE!

It had been a long journey, but he and Maggie had finally, finally arrived here, where they could share their relationship with world. Celebrate it! With their family and friends (the most dramatic of which Adrian had made sure would be on their best behavior tonight through some light verbal assaulting), whom Adrian was more than willing to extend his happiness to. And it was, it was such a deep joy that he couldn't--- even though they had been married for months, tonight made it feel... official, like there could no longer be any question that they were Adrian and Maggie Mattias, with their two beautiful children and their beautiful life---

Adrian cut off his own thoughts, thinking that they would only lead to a less put together version of himself. Instead, he simply let his thoughts roll to how this was an excellent way to kick off what would unquestionably be the most hectic two months of his (and Maggie's) life. But in a good way, it made him content to think that... they would need to sit down and figure out their schedules to ensure seeing each other, staying together as a close family because in the end, if that wasn't important, then what really was? Working through and with the sport they individually loved, spending the holidays together... he had no doubt he and Maggie would work it out effortlessly.

And, just in case, it was a good thing they had spectacular sex to smooth any rough patches over.

His lips pressed into something of a grin, and letting his cheekiness take over him, Adrian reached over in his seat to graze his hand slowly up Maggie's leg. Dinner had just ended, and it was getting late enough that the lights that had been set up for hours were finally starting to create nothing short of a stunning atmosphere. Their guests could enjoy it, but he had all the beauty he needed right here.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" It was a serious question completely lost in his proud smile and light-mannered tone. Adrian leaned over to lightly kiss the side of Maggie's neck.

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mullets
2012-12-01 07:28 am UTC (link)

Yes, she should have been rude. She should have been rude, and asked him to leave her alone because at least then she would be sitting back in her seat, comfortably eating cake. Being polite had gotten her here, uncomfortably close to him. And bothered, entirely bothered because his grip was making her feel hot, and his words were making her stomach twist in an unsettled manner.

He thought she looked beautiful? Saoirse quickly ducked her head and close her eyes to ward off the such close proximity his face had come to hers. He didn't--- Howell was making it very difficult to focus, and remember why she had made the decision she made concerning them. It had been nothing serious!

Or had it? She certainly had never had such an intense reaction to a boy before, especially after not... being... what was he doing to her? Saoirse quickly shook her head, as if warding off all lingering, and unguarded, thoughts. It had been the appropriate thing to do, and that was that. She looked back up at him, feeling determined to stop thinking about what kind of serious conversation she had gotten herself into, as well as whether or not it was noticeable by others.

Her lips pressed together at his question, and her hands resting on his shoulder laxed. She did not like where a collection of words like that typically headed. And he was becoming too close to her--- Saoirse shifted back, creating a negative pool of space between them. This had never been about just a dance.

"I can try," she spoke carefully, and truthfully. Though what he could possibly want to know from her.... she had a small idea, she supposed. And whether it made her want to brush off his hold on her, or keep those parts of her body burning, she couldn't tell.

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howl
2012-12-01 03:17 pm UTC (link)

It hadn't been just about a dance, of course. Nothing with Saoirse was ever so uncomplicated, which should have been a deterrent. The matters of his life were complicated enough without seeking out some girl who could make his head spin just with the way she looked at him, but Howell was learning he was bit of a glutton for punishment.

Which was why, though he sensed the moment he started to lose her, suspected as much might happen the minute he'd opened his mouth, he didn't shake her like he wanted to. Howell wanted to pull her back against him and try to make her see his intentions weren't nefarious, that he didn't want to try and embarrass her in public, but he couldn't do that. At least, not yet, not when it would be like talking to a stone wall.

He too straightened when she pulled back, because if Saoirse wanted to make space between them, he could play along. After all, he was about to ask her the question which, along with him, she'd been avoiding for months, and until he got his answer, he wasn't affording her the luxury of turning tail on him. He glanced down at her, but her eyes were averted, so he made himself look over the top of her head.

But when he opened his mouth, he blurted out, "Why me?" instead. And as soon as he said it, Howell knew that that question, perhaps even more than why she was avoiding him like the plague, had his curiosity burning. "At that party. Why was it me you wanted?" Because perhaps if he knew the answer to that… He wasn't sure everything else would fall into place, but it might.

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mullets
2012-12-01 05:10 pm UTC (link)

Saoirse bristled, taken aback by this 'one question.' She had been thinking that he would want to know why she had cut off all ties, because when everything was over and done with, a inquiry like that made sense. Just to know. But what he wanted... in a momentary lapse of self control, she let herself uneasily squirm and shift in his hold. That was much more complicated, and an answer she had not mentally prepared for.

If she was going to be completely honest, Saoirse did not want to divulge this sensitive information because... well, she wasn't entirely sure of it. What had possessed her to effectively attack him that night? At first she had just quickly assumed that it had been his looks alone which enticed her. No one could deny his incredibly agreeable face and body. But then, when she thought further, she'd realized it hadn't been just that. After he'd randomly caught her eye in passing, she had taken to, she realized, subtly watch him from afar. And, even in the crowd, Howell's seemingly self-effacing manner, unassuming nature in which he carried himself... it was very obvious in a room full witches and wizards that had more assuming in them than most. And that had--- it had made her think--- she wasn't sure, but she at least knew that had strongly drawn her to him.

But she didn't want to tell him that. She wanted him to leave, to let go of her and go away because he was making her feel... unlike herself. And almost sad? Miserable. Caught off guard. How was he so easily captivating her?

Saoirse pulled back her lips, and furrowed her brow. She purposely looked away from him, at least knowing how easily his face could sway her. "Howell," she said, her shoulders sagging as her hands laxed more on his shoulders. "I don't know if we should be talking about this." She looked down at their shoes, and in doing so, she felt rightfully embarrassed (of herself), and forced herself to look back up at him.

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howl
2012-12-01 09:29 pm UTC (link)

"I think we should," replied Howell firmly. "We should talk about something, Saoirse." They certainly had never done much of that. He wasn't proud of it, but yes, there had been a random gal or two he'd been with at a party. That sort of thing just happened. But a fellow player wasn't exactly random, and repeated encounters… For someone who seemed as protective of her privacy as Saoirse, risks like that weren't taken unless they meant something. Any little thing. He didn't know why it was so important, but he had to know. Perhaps so he wouldn't feel he'd deluded himself into thinking more of their relationship than there was? Because if he knew what drew her to him in the first place, he might have a chance of fixing this—whatever "this" happened to be?

His fingers traced a small, absent pattern on her waist, because the dancing, the actual, physical holding her in his arms wasn't enough to keep him from wanting to fidget with his steadily-multiplying nerves. Taking the chance, Howell ducked his head closer to hers once more. "I think, at the very least," he told her quietly, "you owe me some answers.

It should have been the preferred question, really. Now she didn't have to invent excuses or murmur apologies she most likely didn't mean. He could have answered it with ease. Not that he'd really chosen her, of course, but he did want her. They said opposites attract, so it made sense that simplicity would be drawn to complexity, didn't it? He liked that Saoirse burned a cool fire. He was intrigued by her mysteriousness. He liked the way she made him feel, when she wasn't pretending he didn't exist. The problem was, she just didn't care to know it. But he did.

"And that's the question I'm choosing to ask."

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mullets
2012-12-02 03:20 am UTC (link)

She bit back her tongue, as she thought rather sourly that he hadn't seemed to mind their lack of stimulating conversation before. If he had wanted that... well, Saoirse wasn't sure how well it would have worked, as she would readily admit she was a witch of little words, but it wasn't quite fair of him to bring it up now, was it? She sucked her cheeks in, deciding for the better of this exchange to let him have that remark. He felt firmly about it, and there was most likely nothing she could say to change his mind.

His ghosting brush on her waist, however, was not something she could so easily overlook. Both her hands dropped from his shoulders now, and Saoirse momentarily stopped moving to clamp a hand down on his to stop it.

"I do not," she spoke cooly, and truly thinking so. She owed him nothing because she had asked for nothing; her guilt of treating him poorer than she should have concerning their parting was the only reason why she had allowed this dance to happen (though she was wishing she had followed her gut about it, now). And she was... relatively sure that what they had been did not constitute his forwardness.

Then, she had planned on saying that this was not something you asked, in the middle of a massive party, whilst dancing, if you want a serious answer, but at that moment, Saoirse fully noticed how close his face had come to hers again--- and her thoughts blurred together. "I---" she trailed off, her eyes now feeling hazy. She had not... looked away from him this time, and instead of dropping his hand from her waist, her fingers curled around it to hold it tighter. What had--- it was like his gaze had a tight grip on her insides and---

"I don't--" Saoirse started vaguely, her brow contorting to that of almost confusion. "Why... why not--- you?" She didn't understand why... he seemingly cared about it so much.

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howl
2012-12-02 05:06 am UTC (link)

He'd been readying to lift his hands away from her when she released his shoulders, but her hands on his stopped him, making him blink. Howell knew better than to press his point when their encounter was already becoming so precarious, but he thought she was just being defensive when she denied it. If she thought she didn't owe him even a little, would she have agreed to a dance so readily? She hadn't verbally eviscerated him, so perhaps Saoirse was feeling a little more guilt than she'd like him to believe. It was just a theory, of course, but it gave him a little hope.

At least, it had until she'd spoken again. Why not Howell? Why not indeed. "Because it could have been anyone," he said, almost sounding a little sad, though he was just being matter-of-fact. "But it wasn't. It was me. And, I don't know, I—" Howell took a deep breath. It was his cards on the table. He couldn't ask her to be honest with him if he held back, himself. And who knew, perhaps him talking might encourage her to do the same. He felt like he'd done enough foolish things concerning Saoirse that one more wouldn't hurt.

"I suppose I just liked to believe it's because you saw… something in me." That sounded vague and nebulous, and not a bit desperate, he thought with distaste. But he supposed it was accurate enough, as that was a little how he felt at the moment. And she'd given him her answer, hadn't he? So Howell shrugged. "But that's fine too. Just wanted to know, is all."

But for the first time, she hadn't looked away from him, so he couldn't bring himself to drop his gaze. They were simply standing there, both their hands locked around her waist, silent. By the time Howell tore himself away from a too-intense study Saoirse and those elusive eyes, he could hear the fading notes of the single song she'd agreed to dance to him with.

He'd have let her go, but her hand was still cupped tight over his. "Song's over," he murmured.

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mullets
2012-12-02 06:19 am UTC (link)

What-- what was happening here? She didn't want him touching her, and yet, here she was, holding his hands down. And she didn't want to be talking to him, yet when the silence spread between them, she suddenly craved to speak further. And now he seemed.... content with her answer, which she wasn't sure if she even liked. Just a shrug? After all that? How could she have so readily wanted a response like that mere seconds ago when it obviously tasted foul in her mouth?

Her brow furrowed deeper. How was he doing this to her? If someone had told her this was where would be three hours ago, Saoirse would have laughed because he hadn't been running through her mind like she apparently had been through his. She had thought... they were done, over, just a summer spur of the moment thing because wasn't getting caught something that took away the drive, and fun, of all that? Not that she would know from previous experience, but the thought of going public had intimidated her so deeply...

But that--- she had been entirely wrong, hadn't she? Because it hadn't just been anyone, and he was entirely different. And she had, she did see something in him, but putting that into words, was difficult. What would happen... when she affirmed all of this to him? What did he truly want? Her mind could not wrap around the idea that it was her, because who would want her, like that? She knew she had a cold, standoffish character, and as he had said they'd done so little talking-- what could he have possibly seen in her?

When Howell looked away, an almost frenzied kind of energy filled her. But--- "I do," she let out, choosing to ignore his last words. And then, because they felt clammy and heavy, Saoirse unclenched her grip on his hands. But she couldn't tear her gaze away from his face; it seemed completely impossible. She was transfixed by how his emotions played out so clearly on it. She knew her face had never remotely done anything as beautiful as that.

"You're different," she inclined forward, and her hands, like controlled by a different entity, moved to grip a small part of his front. Then they loosened, and dropped--- because she didn't know why.

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howl
2012-12-02 07:30 am UTC (link)

For the second time, Howell couldn't believe his ears. It was small, he agreed, but still, he'd wrested from her an answer, even if it boiled down to one word. And he wondered what it had cost her to say it. "Okay," he agreed, looking down at his chest where her arms had rested. Though they were no longer placed there, he still felt a slight burn, or a tingle, where they just had been. "I reckon that has to be enough." And, almost, it felt like it was.

They lingered again for a moment, before he realised his hands were still around her. He'd never thought of them as being particularly large, but his hands nearly spanned her full waist and he felt suddenly big. Clumsy. And she'd let go of him, so he thought it was about time he did the same of her, sliding his hands around her sides and then dropping them. Howell wanted to kiss her so badly that it was an ache, but he knew he couldn't. Saoirse had always stressed the need for privacy, and he'd had a good idea that getting caught with him, even by someone like Vinny, had had a hand in the splintering of their relationship. So a kiss on a dance floor at a party with all of their colleagues was a piss-poor idea, but that didn't make convincing himself that it was a truly piss-poor idea any easier.

"Thank you," he said, meaning for the dance, and for her speaking to him, even though he knew she believed she didn't have to. Stepping a little to the side so she was free to go, he clasped his hands behind his back so he wouldn't do something unwise with them. She'd agreed to one song, and he'd asked of her one question, so it seemed he had little left to bargain for more time with her. It would have been safer for him to just walk away first, as he didn't trust himself around Saoirse, not when she'd started to soften towards him, even just a little. But that was abrupt, and it seemed rude, and not the way he wanted to end this encounter between them. "I think you're different, too."

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mullets
2012-12-02 10:09 pm UTC (link)

And now, it was like she was going to break into tears. Her stomach lurched, her throat grew tight, and never had Saoirse ever experienced such a deep desire to connect with one such person, for it felt as if his subdued disappointment was seeping through her veins and engulfing her. She could feel the almost sadness in his voice, his disillusionment through the slight lag in his final release of her. And she-- didn't want to walk away.

He had very politely cleared the way for her, as she should have know he would, but that wasn't what her heart was pounding for. It beat heavily for her to kiss him, kiss him with the vigor and emotion coursing through her, but even the thought... it made her insides shrivel up. There were so many people surrounding them, many of whom she, they, personally knew, and just that thought alone almost entirely made up her mind; it would be best to leave whatever was happening here between them on this dance floor.

But his final words put a stop to her inner coaxing, and Saoirse looked at Howell like the breath of fresh air that he was. Because--- she was, she was different, that if anything had been made unreasonably clear throughout her short life. A witch in a magic-less family, a muggleborn in a house of purebloods, and while she was proud of her quidditch prowess, it still set her apart. And Saoirse had found in her experiences that many did not take kindly to those who were different.

But Howell, he made it sound something positive, to aspire to be, and most importantly, something that he liked about her. Her. No one had said that to her before, meant it like that, and his simple sentence made her heart burst. How could she--- quietly slip away from him, like nothing of it?

She blinked, realizing that this whole time she had been intensely staring at him. Unmoving. Her feet had been rooted in their place, but now there was an air to them, and instead of brushing by, Saoirse quietly carried herself back close to him. And she thought--- she inclined her face toward his--- to show how deeply what he had said effected her--- but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She needed him to initiate, him to kiss her because it felt impossible for to do on her own.

"You---" She struggled even now, despite knowing it was what she wanted. "You can kiss me," Saoirse murmured, hesitantly reaching up to prickle the side of his face with her fingers.

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howl
2012-12-03 01:19 am UTC (link)

His heart just stopped. Had he heard what he thought he heard? Was she reading his mind? Or, more likely, was he so obvious?

Yes, yes, of course he was. He didn't know what spell she'd weaved on him, but it had taken root, deep and unshakeable. He could push the thoughts of her aside when he had to, when the game called for his entire focus, and he could come to terms with being rejected by her, but he couldn't deny she had a hold on him, good and proper.

Her fingertips on his skin paralysed him. Hardly daring to breathe, he raised one of his hands, slowly, to cup hers, twining their fingers as he gently pulled it down. His other hand crept upwards as he closed the rest of the distance between them, gradually, as if she were an animal he might frighten away with any sudden movement. Howell forgot entirely where they were. He didn't care that they were in public, he didn't care if she'd come here with a date, and he didn't care that he'd just been ready to let her walk away for good.

Except… except that he did. He did care. Perhaps he'd let himself think too much, perhaps he should have just stopped breathing and thinking and simply do as she said, but he couldn't. His hand cupped her face, but when he bent his, it was to kiss her cheek instead.

He could lie and say that he was doing it for Saoirse, because, no matter what she said, he knew she would regret this one moment of weakness she allowed him to take advantage of, but he knew better. Because he couldn't kiss her again just once, and even if he could, he didn't want that once to be what felt like a kiss good-bye.

When he pulled back, he was staring at her lips while his thumb stroked lightly along her cheekbone. "I want to," he said, so softly, he wasn't sure she could hear him. Howell dropped his hand and straightened, loosening his grip on the hand of hers he still held, though he couldn't bring himself to let go of that, too. "But not—I can't, like this."

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mullets
2012-12-03 04:02 am UTC (link)

Her swelling heart hardened, and Saoirse kept a steadfast gaze and composure as he kissed her cheek. She couldn't say... if she liked what he had chosen to do better or worse than her expectations, but at the very least it did not settle poorly in her stomach. Her skin felt rather alive and her thoughts continued to be blurred, and it wasn't until he muttered again that there seemed to be a break through in her haze.

A wave of recognition of their surroundings finally broke through to her conscious, and it startled Saoirse how many senses she had muted, or simply chose to ignore whilst focusing on Howell. The noises, particularly, struck her, and a tight force resonated through her as the sounds of people talking, music playing, and general movement took over her. And then she suddenly felt glad for his subdued response, because while in the moment she may not have realized it, but he seemed to know better than she.

This thought stuck her so heavily, it was overwhelming. How could he possibly...? Her eyes ran back and forth across his face, as she hoped to find an answer written somewhere within his lines and contours. But that was not an answer she was going to figure out quickly, she decided quickly, so she tucked it away for future mulling over.

His hand felt pleasant on her face, and Saoirse had to shake her head lightly to ward off it's effects on her. She blinked slowly.

"No," she concurred, and because it was within her, Saoirse smoothly relaxed and pulled her fingers out from his. It eased her, he eased her, in spite of all the jolts of fear and apprehension, and because of all of that he had--- yes, not here, not now, not tonight.

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howl
2012-12-03 05:13 am UTC (link)

After she released his hand, Howell would have made to walk away, he would have tried to not press his luck, but the way she'd responded… Hope was newly awakened in him, and vicious with it. Was this truly enough for her? Could his feelings be so one-sided he was projecting what he felt onto Saoirse? Earlier, perhaps even minutes ago, he might have conceded that that was true, but that little seedling of hope had taken root in him too.

His heart had resumed a painful, loud tattoo, and he tried not to think about the sweat undoubtedly breaking out on his palms as he mustered up the courage for this one last attempt. Howell felt not emboldened, as one might expect him to be in receiving a better response than expected, but scared and a little desperate. He knew anything he did or said now was going to ruin this moment he'd worked so hard to create, but he couldn't stop himself. He had to try. She'd let him close to her, physically close to her, and hadn't truly shoved him back yet.

"Meet me again," he whispered suddenly. It was a risky thing to ask. One dance, for all intents and purposes, didn't mean she was prepared to acknowledge him in even in private, or simply answer an owl of his again. And they had play-offs starting in just a few days, where everyone who wasn't a teammate became a bitter rival. Not to mention the grueling schedules they had to keep. His timing could not have been worse, but the faculties for logic and good sense seemed to have fled in his hour of need. "Wherever—whenever you want, just… once more." That's how he had to work now. Somehow, Howell had gotten one toe through the door, and if she'd even let him, he had to bargain for a little more each time.

"Please think about it."

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mullets
2012-12-04 01:03 am UTC (link)

Meet him again? Her stomach twisted.

What repose within her promptly vanished, and her all-too-driving defense system quickly settled in. He wanted to see her again, he wanted to talk more-- and while she should have seen his willingness to accommodate her as thoughtful, it was only overwhelming. Saoirse could already feel the tiredness of their winding down exchange begin to fill her, and she suddenly felt--- overcome. And almost confused because she could feel apart of herself already wanting to agree. But how could that possibly happen? Playoffs started the day after tomorrow, immediately followed by a mashed together week of holiday. And then, like it wasn't as significant as it was, came Eurocup in Istanbul. There was nothing that could be spared in adverting her attention, let alone--- how could she even entertain the idea?

She felt her warm limbs grow cold, her chest close up, and the frenzied haze within her thoughts drop and die. That was the reality, and he, and where they were, and this moment may have made her temporarily forget that, but she remembered now.

"We're too busy," Saoirse spoke inexpressively. Her spine straightened, her shoulders fell back, and for the first time in many passing moments, she looked away from Howell's face. "There isn't time." Despite believing better, and against her best attempt at ignoring it, Saoirse did feel a twinge of regret with her words. It wasn't... him, it was simply... the timing didn't bode, and this was happening all too quickly...

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howl
2012-12-04 05:44 am UTC (link)

He nodded once, almost curtly, though he felt no downward surge in his hopefulness. A yes would have been too simple, too easy. Honestly, her saying yes might even have made him suspicious, as if she were saying it simply to get him to leave her alone, not that it was out of the realm of possibility. But an excuse…

An excuse was better than a no. Wasn't an excuse really wanting to say yes, but thinking the better of it? Not ideal, he had to admit, not where he wanted her, or them, to be, but it wasn't a no. And that was a damn sight further than he'd been walking into this reception. So he could let her have her time, let her have her busy schedule, because heaven knew that was true. Howell began to step back, sensing their interlude, this one, at any rate, had come to an end, and knowing it was best not to press her for more. The request had been made, the seed had been planted, so it was out of his hands now.

"Just think about it," he said simply, jamming his hands in his pockets as he gave her one last look before taking his leave.

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