my breath against the leaves;; - Printable Version
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my breath against the leaves;; - Vincent Iago - March 17, 2024
Feb 14, 1894 — Love at First Sight Ball, Wellingtonshire
To think, it had been about two months since Vincent returned to work… nearly three if one counted the exact days. He did. How could he not? That blasted mess had taken nearly 100 days off his life. More even, given continued undertones. Lingering vestiges of the curse still haunted him, lurking around each corner. (The whisper of a voice in the back of his mind— his own? Or someone else? The twitch of something in the corner of the mirror— was it doubt, or was it his reflection come to life again?) It was everything Vince could do to keep his paranoia to himself. And keep it to himself he was forced; whether by his own will or just chance and life, Cassian had been mia for some time now. Normally, any such unexplained separation from the big blonde would have caused Vincent to pant after him, unsatisfied and determined to make amends but this time… this time things were more fragile than their usual pattern might allow. He knew Cassian was just running scared, knew it the same way he knew even blind that his own eyes were green, but for the first time in his life— Vince was in no mind to follow Cass. A little distance would be… prudent. If not proving disastrous to whatever shambles they’d managed to keep cobbled together after that debacle, it would at least show them both where they stood. With one another, and in life.
So, thus determined to keep the one person who mattered most in his entire bloody existence far from mind— Vincent set off on trying to find a new normal. For him, that had previously included Ministry business, memory business for the Knockturn alley sort, and… social climbing. On this splendidly horrendous holiday, he’d finally decided to tackle the last of these three occupations. (There was no use waiting out Cassian, anyway. He’d always known they would marry and live their own lives, together or apart.) As such, this was his first official date back on the marriage market and Vince was determined to make the most of it.
He’d selected a white rose upon stepping over the threshold this evening, knowing full well he was not about to find himself inexplicably drawn to some wench that could barely afford the glass she held (or worse, a gentleman of the same.) But, in a nifty trick of his own, Vince immediately enchanted it merely to change color and match the rest of the pink ones, no strings attached. This would allow him to peruse the stock at hand and target those worthy of interest who could then be persuaded, in a similar such manner, at the precise moment. Champagne in hand, he set off on the prowl.
There were few single ladies of interest here this evening… that wretch Twiglett or whatever her name was, amongst them. The face he’d been half hoping to spot, if in vain, was nowhere to be found and Vince felt a small grin tug at the corner of his lips. He’d last seen his former handler’s daughter only once since the curse… To think Ms. Wixeldorf might in any way be waiting for him was a half-wit’s shot in hell. Besides, this wasn’t exactly her kind of outing, either. A shame really. He’d made such headway with that one…
Green eyes skipped from figure to figure until at last they caught on a pretty little thing, standing in the corner. This one he vaguely recognized, and only because - as of late - she had become a match of interest to the public. He’d seen her face in some scandal magazine or another, he was sure… Being a yet single sister of the new Minister certainly had it’s thorns, not that there was much to recommend that particular family as it was. Still, the girl was not herself the one causing such uproars and to have direct access to one so high up would certainly assist Vincent in his machinations to—
“Oh, excuse me, I didn’t see you there!” The voice that floated over to him as alcohol sloshed over his lapels was unfamiliar and wholly unwelcome as Vincent felt his focus shift, forcibly. The handsome face of a tall, curly-haired man came into view with a smile so gallant it hurt to look at. Vincent forced a smile of his own. “Not at all,” the snake responded, already brushing beaded droplets from his suit. The man bent to pick something up and hand it to him— oh, their flowers had dropped. Both pink. Vince straightened a bit as he accepted the offering.
In another moment the man was gone and he was left alone, torn between just pinning the thing to his own lapel or swinging by the parlor for another white one, just to be sure. This certainly looked like the flower he’d started with, but then again they were all the same in some way or another. Deciding not to risk it, Vince chanced one last glance up at the lovely Ms. Dempsey he was determined to come back for but their eyes met and suddenly… he felt the inexplicable urge not to bother with the flower after all.
Tucking the thing into his breast-pocket, Vince made his way across the room to the lady’s side. He tucked one hand elegantly behind his back and cleared his throat, covering his mouth just a bit with the other. (Awkwardness had never been his shtick but then again, he wasn’t quite right as rain these days either.) “I beg your pardon,” he started. “But I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”
RE: my breath against the leaves;; - Shalott Dempsey - April 12, 2024
The evening reminded Lottie of whimsy and the soft petals of spring flowers. It almost felt as if she could drift her fingers over the gentle edges of the evening and lose herself in a story that was not her own. She thought this as Mary chatted beside her. Her school friend often filled the air between them with words that twisted around Lottie, easily missed, and easily forgiven. Mary's eyes were watching the crowd, waiting for a gentleman to take her by the arm and swirl her onto the dance floor as the enchanted dance cards she had pressed into both their hands at Lottie's entrance had promised.
Lottie looked across the dance floor distracted by the sensation of golden whisps of wind pulling through her mind. Her eyes caught on a tall gentleman, her head tilting to the side to consider him, her mind beginning to paint a picture of words. She watched as he dropped his flower, as he leaned down a stern grace in the movements. At last he straightened - and then his eyes met hers.
The feeling that filled Lottie was not unakin to that of what she had imagined any number of fairy tale princesses would have felt in their moment of "love at first sight". Indeed, Lottie couldn't look away from the gentleman as he made his way toward her, her heart began to beat rapidly as if at any moment he might change direction. She could hardly breathe, as he stepped toward her, as if she were holding her breathe in fear that he might turn away. And then he was there, in front of her.
"Miss Shalott Dempsey." Lottie found herself saying, holding out her hand for his, her pink dance card dangling from her wrist. Could everyone see how those whisps of gold twined around him, weaving into his dark hair, tugging him forward?
ooc: yes, the gold is entirely in her head, no it isn't real
RE: my breath against the leaves;; - Vincent Iago - April 12, 2024
Shallott Dempsey, that was it. The name he’d been searching for and lost in the sudden haze of inexplicable pull to approach. Vince accepted the lady’s hand with a bow at the waist. He felt an inordinate urge suddenly to kiss the inside of her wrist, just where her pulse thundered away from within. Deciding against it however, he tipped his head gallantly and took in the sight of her dress as he went.Ms. Dempsey was pretty in a strangely ethereal kind of way. Bright blue eyes that could rival even Cassian’s were set against a delicate face. She looked almost too fragile to touch, as if a whisp of smoke might come by and cause her to evaporate. Dark curls and a forbidden nature to this whole thing only made Vincent smile, urgently realizing how desperately he wanted to ask her to dance.
“Well Ms. Dempsey, you look an absolute marvel this evening,” the strawberry blonde offered instead. He was reluctant to let her go but made no motion to step any closer. “It’s a shame we’ve been so destitute in respects to this acquaintance.”
Purposely, Vincent did not introduce himself as the next pause might have facilitated, or in fact, expected. He was always a little bit trigger-shy when it came to throwing around his father’s surname, especially when he had nothing outright to offer. Gentlemen were different. With a man, he often had something to barter with, be it a common, well respected acquaintance or his capacity as an obliviator. But with a lady? One had nothing to recommend him save for reputation and, well… Vince was still working on undoing every aspersion his father had cast upon the name ‘Iago.’
“Do you dance often?” He asked, jumping into a subject that might lead them right where he was hedging. If she was not much of a dancer, well, he could certainly propose a stroll in the garden. Even if it was February, that’s what heating charms were for.
RE: my breath against the leaves;; - Shalott Dempsey - April 12, 2024
It was not so much the words that the man spoke, but rather the sound of his voice that captured Lottie's attention. His compliments flowed past her as she listened to the cadence, the strong tone of words, the confidence in them. It was only when a lull in the words brought her back to herself that she realized something must have been asked of her. With an owlish blink Lottie considered him. What was it she ought to have said?
But then he spoke again. "No, but I do so love to when I have the chance." It felt like flying. She could always imagine clouds gathered under her feet, or the brush of lush grass, a soft breeze tugging at her. But it was rare to find a simply that would indulge such fancies with her. No, balls were her only recourse for such a pass time, for that feeling of other worldliness that caught her up in such fancies.
RE: my breath against the leaves;; - Vincent Iago - April 12, 2024
Even under whatever urgency the flower had involuntarily draped upon him, Vince was not one to miss the blank way Ms. Dempsey peered at him. Her gaze, however delightful, looked like it was far away— a world away entirely, even. When her big blue eyes blinked her back to reality, he felt the magnitude of her attention like a weight. Offering her a cheeky grin, Vince gave the hand he still held a small squeeze. “Then would you honor me with your next one?” He dared to ask. Let her throw over anyone else that might have been in line first. He had asked her to dance now; that had to count for something.
RE: my breath against the leaves;; - Shalott Dempsey - April 12, 2024
There was a gentle pressure against her hand, warm and enveloping. Lottie's attention drifted toward it, looking away from his face to their hands linked together. She looked back though, heart soaring through her at his words. It felt as if her entire being had been fate to accept his dance. As if they had been destined to glance at each other, to feel the tug toward each other. Her mind allowed her realization that this was an enchantment to drift away, a superfluous fact amongst the sparkling edges of such a notion.
A smile full of warmth slide across her lips, her eyes pulling back up to his face, meeting his own gaze. "I would be enchanted." Lottie had the vague notion she should at least look at her dance card to see if she was owed a dance to another, but as the strain of a waltz began Lottie's mind lost the thought. Let him lead her onto the floor, dance with her among the clouds, the starlight guiding their way through the steps, his warmth protecting her from the gentle nudging breezes that would tug at them.
RE: my breath against the leaves;; - Vincent Iago - April 12, 2024
Pleased that the lady had accepted his request, Vince turned to lead her onto the dance floor. It was rather lucky that at this precise moment the tune had seen fit to change. He was quite good at the waltz, Mama had made sure of that much. Turning to the lovely Ms. Dempsey, Vince felt some of the finer edges of the enchantment rubbing at his consciousness. He supposed he had selected the wrong flower after all. It would be a good idea to exchange it at the entrance after this, his reasoned, but there was no real urgency behind the thought. He didn’t want to step away from Ms. Dempsey, for even a moment. Despite this whole debacle having come about because of these ridiculous little flowers, he supposed it had all worked out in his favor in the end.
The waltz began and Vince settled himself gently upon Ms. Dempsey. One hand brushed at her waist while the other took her fragile digits in his. He was careful to keep a featherlight touch; anything stronger, firmer, seemed too aggressive. He didn’t want her to feel forced to linger, but he was also afraid she might dissolve right before his eyes if he didn’t keep some kind of grasp. They began to move in tune then.
“You’re as graceful as you look,” he commented, the hint of a smile touching the corner of his lip. Not enough to bring forth a dimple, but enough to show amusement.
RE: my breath against the leaves;; - Shalott Dempsey - April 24, 2024
His hold almost felt ephemeral, there and yet barely so, so easily lost. Yet it guided her as the music began, gentle and soothing, like the slow undertone of a mournful melody. Her own touch was light in return, a gentle reminder that she was there, that he could lead her through the steps to the world beyond this one.
Oh, he had said something, hadn't he? Lottie's eyes looked up at him owlishly, considering what he might have said. It frequently happened to her and left her rather unperturbed because he did have a smile that looked laced with mystery. It wasn't a kind smile, but it was the kind of smile one could admire.
"You ought to smile more." She found herself saying, her eyes tilting up from his mouth to his eyes. "It is like a song."
RE: my breath against the leaves;; - Vincent Iago - June 8, 2024
Vince didn’t know what he’d expected Ms. Dempsey to say, but this was not it. He’d somehow expected her to demure, to titter and glow from the compliment like other ridiculous debutants hankering for a proposal— not that his offer would be very attractive to many of them. But Ms. Dempsey was a pleasant surprise. She returned his compliment with one of her own that touched at the fringes of honesty in the way her unique features gazed up at him. She was remarkably beautiful up close; even the ever perfectionist, overly critical Vincent Iago could admit that much. He gave her another curious look, face yet upturned in the same pleasant manner. “A song you say?” He gave her a gentle turn as the dance called for it. “What melody do you hear? A pastoral dance or the scraping of violin strings in anguish?” The latter was delivered a bit as a joke, even if Vince was sure that he’d have classified himself much in that manner. The whole social scene had always felt forced to him, like the frustrated tug back and forth of an untrained bow across strings. It was a requirement of society that everyone marry and do well, or at least however well one might aspire to do and Vincent aspired more than most. To him, marriage was a weapon tucked delicately in his arsenal, safe until the moment that proved most advantageous.
RE: my breath against the leaves;; - Shalott Dempsey - June 8, 2024
Moving with the music Lottie forgot about the room around them. There was only the music, his smile, the lilt of his words. Beneath she could practically feel the moisture of the clouds seeping into her dance slippers. The golden threads drifted about them as if cocooning them in their own little circle.
Ever so slightly Lottie's head tilted to the side as she considered his question "Like the the rolling notes of The Moldau." Bedrich Smetana's composition with its changing notes, ebbs and flows, hidden depths seemed to describe what his smile seemed like to her. She wondered if when he beamed it was like the great crescendo at the end of the song, booming and full, leaving no room for any other interpretation beyond pure joy.
RE: my breath against the leaves;; - Vincent Iago - June 9, 2024
The Moldau. It was an extremely interesting answer to how one’s smile might sound, the reflection of one’s inner workings on a good day. Vince wasn’t sure how much it sung true to his persona, but he certainly appreciated the idea. It turned over in his head once, twice, the sound of what he could remember of the melody playing as they went. Tilting his head a bit, he considered Ms. Dempsey’s own smile. Vince didn’t have quite the same imagination or was too distracted by the conflicting melodies of their dance to return the compliment in kind. “You don’t know me very well yet,” he hummed amusedly instead. “Though I do hope to change that.” It was with another easy smile that Vince gave the girl another turn. Their waltz was dizzying as Vince moved in tune with a partner he’d never held before and yet seemed to know with intimate familiarity. It spoke volumes as to her breeding, a pedigree that reputation might have whispered about prior to the brother becoming minister. Vince didn’t have much mind for society’s scandals, but he certainly had his own tarnished father to think of. The thought niggled.
“Tell me, Ms. Dempsey,” he said then, hoping to lead to more fruitful pastures. “How do you like to spend your time?” It was all banal dribble, but what was he here for if not to be charming?
RE: my breath against the leaves;; - Shalott Dempsey - July 11, 2024
Mr. Iago seemed to consider her words, she did as well. She could feel the swells of the music, the gentle bubbling lightness. It was a song of many images, unpredictable, beautiful. Her mind saw the scenes as they swirled around: a hunting party, a wedding, pastures and forests, rapids, and waterfalls, and a glorious castle. The music melded entirely into the waltz they danced , Lottie's mind envisioning herself as one of those girls running through the pastures, loose hair flying in the wind, ribbons twisting around her. Her fancy took her far away as she looked at the man who held her, but hardly saw him. He said something, they always did, and she wasn't quite sure what it was.
Her mind tugged back to the clouds under their feet and the golden ribbons about them, away from fields of pastures and fresh mountain air, she caught the end of a question. "Oh." She considered that. So few people asked, it was odd to admit such things. "I suppose much as any lady." The words themselves were a shrug. Lottie truly didn't realize how odd she was to others. "Reading, writing, playing music." Indeed, did not all accomplished young ladies do such things?
RE: my breath against the leaves;; - Vincent Iago - July 11, 2024
For whatever reason, Vince caught the faintest whiff that Ms. Dempsey was no longer paying attention to him. For a moment he was indignant, but the next he was almost curious. What was it that could have captured her attention away from him? Was he so uninteresting as a specimen, or was it the whole debacle about his class and/or reputation? Or better yet, something else entirely? Vince tried to follow her gaze across the room, but he couldn’t pinpoint anything specifically. He supposed he would have to try harder if he wanted to make an impression.Her response as to her interests was as boring as he’d expected however. Banal, trivial things: reading, writing, playing music. All the same titles and scribbles he imagined most women indulged in, then? Nothing of any real substance. Still, he was determined to recapture her interest and so, picking the least trivial of these, Vince nodded. “And is there anything of interest you’ve read as late?” He doubted he would even recognize the titles she mentioned, but at least their song was almost at its end.
RE: my breath against the leaves;; - Shalott Dempsey - July 29, 2024
Lottie considered the question with a tilt of her head, even as her feet moved lightly across the sky as if they hardly made any contact at all. "I've been revisiting Shakespeare's works of late." She admitted, a distant smile tilting her lips. She did not often read Shakespeare but the letters that came to her, full of mystery and danger, had her diving into the works yet again.
"Do you read often?" She asked, her eyes meeting his, wondering for a moment who her Hamlet was, and foolishly, attributing his identity to the man before her, drawn as she felt to him. But for as foolish a thought, her eyes inspected his face, looking for any hint that it might be him. And yet some long distant part of her mind whispered that it was merely the golden threads of magic around them, not the ink splattered threads of quill and paper.
RE: my breath against the leaves;; - Vincent Iago - July 29, 2024
To say he was counting the seconds - or notes - in which this dance would end was a gross over-exaggeration. Vincent was having a fine enough time, and Ms. Dempsey was as pretty as she was important. But there seemed to be something substantially lacking in her character, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. A depth of some sort that he realized in that moment he might require in order to revisit this particular acquaintance. (It wasn’t like she was a Lestrange after all. He might be able to stomach just about anything for the security that would bring but—) Ms. Dempsey was… nice, in her way. Perhaps just not for him. It was with this thought at the forefront that Vince was suddenly jerked, hook in mouth, by her next comment. He could not help the sudden change in his own countenance as green eyes lit up and his lips pursed, trying to keep the sudden interest at bay. “How fascinating,” he commented. “And which works in particular draw your attention?”
If there was something simmering under his skin now it could be likened to the faintest hope yet that this strange conversation might actually flourish into something better. They’d started off strong, so here was to hoping. “I’m rather a fan of Shakespeare myself, despite the irony of surname and all.” He pulled a face hoping to bridge the gap. If she said Othello, we would suspect she was full of—
RE: my breath against the leaves;; - Shalott Dempsey - September 13, 2024
He did not answer her question, Lottie noted, but then... she supposed she could forgive him for his demeanor had begun to shift at the comment. "Most recently I read King Lear." Lottie admitted, "But I suppose it would depend on if I were seeking to read to laugh or to despair, for then my answer would most certainly change."
"And yourself?" She asked as they twirled around once more the last strains of music guiding them toward stillness. She found herself meeting his gaze, taking in his face, considering the threads around them. But only for a moment, because then someone had walked up to her. Lottie blinked as her hand was claimed for yet another dance. She peeked over her shoulder for once last glance before she was swept away in the tides of an evening.