the only octavius o. pepper (dinglealltheway) wrote in valesco,
@ 2012-12-28 19:49:00

Entry tags:

andrea johnson, anton chang, arista sykes, delilah spinnet, derek dobbs, edward pennifold, ethan jordan, galvin gudgeon, glenda prewett, graciela pennifold, greta catchlove, group, howell williams, iwan quigley, marissa shimpling, matthew summerby, max fancourt, mirabelle jasper, saoirse mullet, scarlett rabnott, seth wadcock, thomas mccormack, violet voltaire

For New Year's Eve!

Octavius thought, all things considered, this party had come together rather nicely. "All things considered" being the harrowing and oddly personal war Mira and he were currently battling out, and its various distractions. With the amount of sabotage his tricky personal assistant wreaked upon him (and, admittedly, some effects of his own retaliation, because he didn't have eight other siblings for nothing), he thought their end-of-the-year bash might never get off the ground. But the floating candles, the rather superb live, musical entertainment, and the food was proof of the fact that, in spite of the squabbling and havoc occuring at the Wizarding Wireless Network studios, they could still throw a rather excellent party.

He optimistically did not let it get to him that he had brought his sister as a date, and an offhand comment she'd made during one of their lunches had given him a spectacular idea for the grand finale of the night. Five minutes before midnight, the lamps would begin to dim to black as the ceiling turned into a reflection of the night sky. Then would begin the countdown, and at the stroke of midnight, ushering in the new year, a slew of firecrackers would be released over the crowd, all courtesy of some handy and pretty ingenious spellwork. Octavius was getting downright gleeful in anticipation of that.

Nor was he letting get to him the unfortunate fact that Mira and he, spitting claws and all, would be taking a portkey at the arse crack of dawn to Istanbul, for the European Cup beginning on the first (or, tomorrow). Select crew, and even some of the party-goers, were in the same boat, but Octavius had a feeling the sleeplessness would be worth it. Tonight would be a night to remember.

OOC refer here for kissing questions! Or ask me :]

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rabastans
2012-12-30 10:57 pm UTC (link)

“Scarlett.”

She wasn’t sure why that seemed to be harder to do than kiss him. Scarlett had maintained a closed-off persona since entering the public world of professional quidditch, though it was something that she’d been forced into developing throughout her years at Hogwarts. With two vicious roommates, her only chance at survival had been to become something of a recluse in her own dormitory and the feeling of keeping to herself, keeping everything to herself, had carried over into the supposed real world. She was surprising herself with each passing second of this interaction as she could not recall the last time she had been spotted anywhere, especially in public, in this sort of embrace. The Tattler liked to assume that the snapshots they got of her and Bagman were post-snog, but that had never been the case.

Scarlett found that she didn’t mind if she was caught in the arms of this handsome man, whose name she still wasn’t aware of. Part of her deemed it quite all right that he remained nameless, that all she wanted to do was to remain staring at his lips, but her common sense was managing to get a word or two. She made no effort to break away from him, still quite entranced and not only with him but with how she was allowing herself to speak and behave so freely. His arms around her made her feel secure in her actions, and it made the already overwhelming urge to keep kissing him unbearable. Scarlett found herself once again closing the space between them, but she hovered momentarily in suspense.

“I’m Scarlett,” she breathed onto his lips, eyes fluttering up to meet his. She wanted him to kiss her again, to initiate it once more. “Who are you?”

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bigd
2012-12-31 08:55 am UTC (link)

When a fresh shiver bolted up his spine, he knew it was for no other reason than in anticipation of even once feeling her wrap herself tightly around him. There was a simple pleasure in the way she said her name, and it only grew as he started to revel that she was in his arms, found himself glad, pleased, that he was in hers. Though the unease of moments earlier had passed, Derek still had no answers for what had happened between them, or why; he didn't know if there would be another kiss, or if there would be more. He couldn't say if the night would go on, and if it would be the last. Derek didn't know any of that, but he wasn't bothered. The long-term had never been a goal of his, but he had never been open to possibilities. He chose to see this chance encounter as a gift of the new year, and all, whatever, it would bring him, if he only could open himself up a little bit more.

He let Scarlett move in on him again, and let his hands run where they pleased on her — from up and down the length of her back, to slight patterns and strokes on her sides. He enjoyed the tension of wanting her lips on his, and not having them, and the feeling of warmth spreading within him, from being so twisted up with her in the moment. He realised it would gratify him to tell her his name, in all honesty. It was something he wished for her to know, to use.

"Derek," he told Scarlett, and was struck by the sudden sensation that he'd like to hear her say it in his ear, quiet and breathless. Or perhaps long and lowly, and ripe with longing. Found himself suddenly, and abruptly, wondering if he could make her scream it. "Derek," he said again, huskier than he'd intended, "and I've got to kiss you once again."

Then proved, as ever, he was a man of his word.

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