Thread: Noblesse Obligé [Ghostwolf and Thaedael]

The pause was once more punctuated by the rain landing against the window, the wind rattling the window in it's frame, the sill vibrating ever so lightly. The storm outside had drawn her purple eyes to the view outside, the sites of the spire below her beginning to light up, each dwelling, manufacturom, school and the like, each flickering into life like a candle in the wind. The way the bright lights reflected in her eyes gave her a sparkle of mysticism, making her seem all that more intelligent, the purple hues betraying the intelligence behind them. They want me to teach in Omon her voice was calm, steady, and light as it rolled out of her pursed lips. They want me to hold a teaching position at the Ecclesiarchy, teaching women how to perform military intelligence. On my down time, outside of my duties as a teacher, they would expect me to give insights into current naval engagements that our planetary defense force are currently engaged in. The room was silent once more, her mind still drawn to the sights of the hive as her eyes traced the landscape. The spires and cities off on the distance of the horizon were no more, hidden behind the rolling storm clouds that had made their way towards the governor's palace from the direction the sunset had been in. It looked like the storm would be a bad one, but she was at ease, having spent her life in worse conditions, in places worse than a Governor's palace which surely was equipped for the weather of it's own planet. She broke off her gaze from the window, realizing she must make bad company if she did not keep Clara engaged, and thus she turned her head to the woman before her once more, smiling as she did so, trying to come across as a sociable person. She wanted nothing more than to be out of here, to be out of uniform and relaxed. However, it is not the reason they were invited to the palace. They were invited to be paraded around, and asked questions, and for that she was more than willing to spend a few days for, since she now had a life outside the service as a result of their actions combined with the public's interest in branding them as heroes. However, it was the assumptions they made, that had bothered her, even Clara slipping up in what was said. Yes, she had done well in saving as many as she did, however, as Clara had so deftly pointing out, many more did not make it. How in the Emperor's name did she think that would make Victoria feel better. The pit of her stomach sank, the taste of her amasec becoming unpalatable as she placed the drink on finely polished wooden coaster. She wanted to excuse herself, but thought better of it. After all, Clara did not seem to be the obnoxious type, and probably did not realize the weight of her words in dealing with the situation. I have always believed I would never look good in a dress, but I am sure the dress makers of the nobles themselves would see to it that I yet become a proper lady. If you were to give them that chance, I am sure they would enjoy the challenge, as well as the pay it commands. For you see, they would need to cover me up more than you yourself, and the fabrics would need to be thrice as much she nodded her head to herself, imagining the dresses she would wear. Little came to her mind, unfamiliar with the shapes and forms that one would wear. She looked once more over Clara, appreciating the form she was not afraid to hide, the silver threading and sequins that hugged her bodice in spirals were like guidelines to the eyes, drawing her attention to the bust, of which hers was large. She wondered what kind of visual cues the dress makers would put upon her dress. What assets of hers they would flaunt. She had surprised him once more, the way she spoke to him with familiarity, the familiarity of her feelings that weighed her down, the soft warmth of her hands against his own. It was all so familiar, like the smell of the ocean, the cooling winds, or even the rain of the Vorlancia. It was natural. He wanted to comfort her, to console her, and in so doing, comfort himself, to console himself. With fingers entwined between one another, he gently squeezed with his hand, rubbing his own inter-laden fingers, her hands still upon his. Still holding her hand gently, Ilya turned to her, understanding painted across his face. I know you speak your words out of frustration, out of being cornered away from your true self. You have no idea how much at ease it places me in. I thought I was alone. Surely in knowing that someone else understands you Beth, you to are at ease, as I am now. He took his free hand, helping her adjust her hair, gently brushing away the last of the free strands that had clung to her now exposed shoulder. She was soaked through, the airy layers of the dress having been forced flat and sheer by the weather, hanging on her every curve as his rain-soaked uniform had hung on every hardened edge of his body. It was as if nature itself stripped them of all meaning, down to their vary nature as man and woman. With understanding still hanging of his brow as the rain hung off their form, he traced her gaze to the spires below, the lights of the spire beginning to flicker on one by one, the site from the balcony becoming more impressive. I... he begun, before he stopped, hesitation rife on his voice as he spoke. She had shared with him moments of her personal life, life behind the facade of her public image. He wanted to talk to her about himself, about himself , the real Ilya. He continued to run his fingers against those of her own, her hand keeping his in place firmly below it's gentle grip. He moved closer, pressing his shoulder against her own so that they barely touched, the warmth of his body against the coolness of her skin. I grew up on this spire. Well, further down obviously he said with a bit of a nervous laugh. She knew that, so why did he clarify? On days that it had rained, much like tonight, I used to sit in the open window sill of the school, and look up to the stars above. Before they beat sense and discipline into me that is. I would look up to the spire above, to the houses of the nobles clustered around the palace, and my mind would wander to the sights and sounds they must hear from below. I would imagine myself as a bird, floating gently on the thermals lazily looking upon the city below, and the people below busy about their day. He paused, taking in the sights before him. I am glad to see the view wasn't disappointing. The climb to the top was difficult none the less, but for this view, it was worth it. He had somehow made it home, and seeing home below him only made the moment all the more real. He was finally home. The rain beaded off his brown, running down his face, mixing with the tears of his eyes, the rain thankfully keeping the emotions hidden to himself. He continued to stand with her, hand in hand, sharing the moment, time itself frozen.