Eden
"I'm staying."
"You're not."
"I'm a fucking adult, Al."
"You are so deep in your cup right now, E, you're going to –"
Eden pushes past him in a move which could almost be considered dextrous for her level of intoxication, trying to remember what important task of hers was interrupted by her meddling brother. "Fine. I'm leaving. See you at home," she calls behind her as she spots the head of curls which might have been her own hair had they not been entirely the wrong hue. Her dance partner is leaving. That won't do. People tuck in behind her as she slides between the closing doors, the whack of one of them against her elbow going nearly unnoticed beneath the cozy, thick blanket of Just Enough Drink.
The young woman slips into the alley instead of calling out, cleverly evading Alfric as he emerges to follow her. She bends to become just another barrel behind the one in front, hands folding over her head to camouflage her cardinal locks until, frustrated and huffing, Alfric leaves, no doubt assuming she went home as she implied she would. Maybe as a linnet. As if she could focus enough to shift, presently.
Eye on the prize, now. Eden looks too good in her dress to let it slide onto her own floor.
Curlyhead, she sees from her crouch, having not yet thought to stand, turns from where he stands and heads in her direction. But he doesn't offer her a hand up as she suddenly realizes she expects him to. Instead, he braces against the wall above her head.
"Where are you going?" Eden asks from hip height.
"You're not."
"I'm a fucking adult, Al."
"You are so deep in your cup right now, E, you're going to –"
Eden pushes past him in a move which could almost be considered dextrous for her level of intoxication, trying to remember what important task of hers was interrupted by her meddling brother. "Fine. I'm leaving. See you at home," she calls behind her as she spots the head of curls which might have been her own hair had they not been entirely the wrong hue. Her dance partner is leaving. That won't do. People tuck in behind her as she slides between the closing doors, the whack of one of them against her elbow going nearly unnoticed beneath the cozy, thick blanket of Just Enough Drink.
The young woman slips into the alley instead of calling out, cleverly evading Alfric as he emerges to follow her. She bends to become just another barrel behind the one in front, hands folding over her head to camouflage her cardinal locks until, frustrated and huffing, Alfric leaves, no doubt assuming she went home as she implied she would. Maybe as a linnet. As if she could focus enough to shift, presently.
Eye on the prize, now. Eden looks too good in her dress to let it slide onto her own floor.
Curlyhead, she sees from her crouch, having not yet thought to stand, turns from where he stands and heads in her direction. But he doesn't offer her a hand up as she suddenly realizes she expects him to. Instead, he braces against the wall above her head.
"Where are you going?" Eden asks from hip height.
don't even ask cuz you know what I'll say:
somehow I'm going to get my way
somehow I'm going to get my way
