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Turtle & Canary, Thursday

Yes, Ada was skipping work -- again -- but this time for an even better cause.

She didn't particularly want to be doing it today, but, well, she'd made a promise last week, and she'd be damned b'fore she broke her word over one of Fandom's stupid weekends.

"So this place got a little bit of everything," she said, pushing open the door and beckoning Hya in after her. "You ain't probably gonna find the fanciest phones here, but they got a few options for somethin' cheap an' serviceable."

[OOC: For the one!]

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"What is a vampire?" Hyacinthe asked, intruigued. "From the description, it sounds like you mean the most fascinating and exciting ladies of my acquaintance."

"Monster outta stories that drinks your blood, an' either kills you so you rise as a vampire too, or keeps you as a thrall to do their bidding," Ada said. "Sunlight kills 'em, so sometimes they need humans to do stuff for 'em."

Someday Ada was gonna find out vampires were as real as mermaids, and then she'd be very very sorry about this conversation.

"It sounds like you know many interesting stories!" Hyacinthe laughed. "No, I'd not call you a vampire but perhaps a sir--"

He abruptly paused. 'Siren' wasn't the same as 'mermaid', if he remembered the sailor's tales aright, but they might be close enough. From what he did remember of the weekend, Ada's transformation had been even more involuntary than whatever had happened to him.

"An enchantress," he supplied instead, barely a heartbeat of pause between them. "Clouding my wits and stealing my better judgement clear away."

Ada knew what you were going to say, Hyacinthe, 'sir' was a pretty distinctive vocal intonation. But she just raised an eyebrow at him.

"So you do remember," she said, seemingly unconcerned. "But you're right, enchantress is better. Cloudin' wits an' stealin' better judgement is pretty much the job description of every carnie worth the title."

"I remember," Hyacinthe agreed easily. "But I don't understand much of what I do remember and you seemed quite perturbed the days after, so I thought better not to speak of it."

He nodded. "every Tsingani, as well. The more I hear of it, the more I think your carnies are kumpai by a different name."

Ada shrugged one shoulder. "It ain't a future a girl likes t' be reminded of," she pointed out. "I'd rather keep m dancin' shoes if'n I had a say in th' matter.".

"An' some people can get skittish 'bout anyone a mite different."

"I know...I know some about that," Hyacinthe admitted softly. He normally wouldn't have said anything about it at all, but he felt he'd learned one of Ada's secrets unfairly and the balance between them was off now. "My best friend was considered too flawed for service because people did not recognize the scarlet mote in her eye for what it was." He took a deep breath. "And among my people, what I can do is considered vrajna. Forbidden. It is not for a man to speak the dromonde, but I do."

"People can be assholes 'bout anyone who looks th' most little bit different," she said, shaking her head sympathetically. "You learn early how to hide it, or misdirect attention if'n you can. Eyes'd be hard."

"But what's th' dromonde?"

"The ability to see the future," Hyacinthe admitted. "Or the past. To part the mists of time to look down someone's Lungo Drom and see what life awaits. My mother taught me how to do it, though by all rights she shouldn't have."

What was so easy for him to claim in the City of Elua, where he was known as the son of the seeress was harder to do here on the island. There, he used his skills for money and acclaim. Here, it had seemed better to wait and see how it would be received. No Tsingani showed their best horses first.

Ada clapped her hands with delight. "You're an actual seer!" she said, clearly not disturbed by the idea in the slightest.

"I don't think none of th' families have had one since, gosh, Juniper Campbell, I think, an' that was a real long time ago. Lots of us fake it, f'r th' Townies, but ain't none of us th' real thing."

"Well...yes," Hyacinthe said, startled into a laugh. "I am not my mother's equal, of course, but I have the gift."

He looked at her with sparkling eyes. "You my lady care for a taste, O Brightest Star of the Evening?"

"I know better than t' listen to pretty boys who promise t' tell me th' future, seer or no," Ada said sagely, wagging a finger at him. "I know how that story goes, an' it always ends with a unfaithful lover an' a new baby."

"You've already lit your candle to Eisheth...?" Hyacinthe said, confused. Then his brow cleared. "Right. That's not a thing here. You have to use the...condoms?" Ha! He'd successfully remembered the name!

"Condoms," Ada agreed. "You don't got condoms where you're from? Do we need t' grab you some while we're here?"

"We've no need of such things in Terre D'Ange." Because it was magic, Ada. Magic. "D'Angelline girls don't become fertile until they light a candle to the angel, Eisheth. Before then, they do not bleed and they do not get pregnant. And Dante explained that sometimes you get sick after sex? But that is nothing I or any other D'Angelline has experienced. My Phedre is training to be a Servant of Naamah. Were this a concern, Messire Delaunay would have prepared her. Yet I've never heard of a Night Court adept, a Servant of Naamah, nor Priest of Elua ever say anything of the like."

"They don't gotta get their period or deal with babies unless they light a candle?" Ada echoed. "Well, that ain't fair. Yeah, here, girls can take a pill, or get a little implant to help prevent pregnancy, but the condoms help a bunch too."

"Sick... it ain't like a cold or nothin,'" she continued. "There's some infections you c'n get if'n you don't use condoms for protection. Some treatable, some not so much, but it ain't really a problem as long as you use condoms right an' regular, an' trust that whomever you're sleepin' with is clean."

"I feel it prudent to mention that I bathe daily and even more often if the situation calls for it," Hyacinthe announced, giving Ada another wink. "Though should someone doubt my cleanliness, I am always amenable to being bathed. Particularly with company."

...Not what she meant, Hya.

"'Clean' is slang f'r not havin' any of th' sexually transmitted diseases," Ada clarified, laughing. "Though if'n you're angling for a cute girl to get you all lathered-up in th' tub, you're talkin' t' th' wrong one."

There would be no sex in a bathtub for Ada Miller. Ever. It fell under the heading of 'terrible idea,' given her Condition.

"Unless you want me t' shower you with glitter. That we can arrange."

"I'm more than willing to settle for a lovely lady washing my back and then getting lathered up outside, the tub," Hyacinthe assured her, mischief sparkling in his eyes. "Though I am that other as well."

Because magic!

"Though, do you wish to shower me in glitter, I wouldn't be averse." He reached out, intending to run his finger down the back of her neck where the glitter caught the sun. "I like the way you sparkle in the light."

Ada's breath caught in her chest for a moment, her brain stuttering to a stop at Hya's fingers on the back of her neck, against scale and skin.

"You'd be quiet the sight, sparkling," she said, once she could breathe again. "Like tiny stars caught in your hair."

Hya didn't answer for a moment, brow furrowed as he ran his finger over the back of her neck once, twice, thrice more. The last time, his finger slid lower, feeling the skin over her shoulders that glittered as well. He made no secret of his exploration, nor of his fascination, either with the soft skin below or the firm specks above.

"These are scales, not skin, am I right?" he asked softly, finger gliding back up, following the bumps of her spine. "They're still quite lovely, like tiny flecks of sunlight caught and settled here. I would kiss them, if I could."

Ada watched his face out the corner of her vision as he explored, his intense fascination almost... sweet, if'n she had to pick a word for it.

"Scales," she agreed, licking her lips. "Though you best be careful; most girls would probably slap you for gettin' that fresh in public."

"But do you wish to kiss me," a little ghost of a smile flitted over her face with her deliberate echoing of his words, "--I wouldn't be adverse."

"Then I suppose I must be grateful that I am not out with some other girl," he told her. "As if I was not so already." His hand stayed on her shoulders, fingers stroking along her arms with feather-light caresses as he moved to stand behind her, brushing her dark hair out of the way.

"In Terre D'Ange, this color is known a bistre," he said, toying with a lock of it. "A deep and luxurious darkness, like a forest pool under the shade of ancient oaks." And then her neck was bared and he was bending down to kiss her there. At first, it was a soft kiss, a bare pressing of his lips to hers. He moved to place another kiss a little higher and this one had more pressure--and the tip of his tongue darted out to drag along her scales. "I would kiss you in other places as well," he murmured, teasingly, in her ear a second later. "But I should hardly wish to be fresh."

Beat.

"In public."

Beat.

"Unless 'twas something you'd enjoy as well."

Edited 2016-06-17 22:12 (UTC)

"You are gonna get us arrested on public indecency charges," Ada warned, shaking her head to try and clear it. "I usually only gotta worry about that if'n 'm out with Dante an' 'Bela."

Which, probably just told Hya everything he needed to know about what she 'enjoyed.'

Then she was turning to reach out and tug him in close, so she could kiss him properly, rather than let him keep thinking he could lead this dance as he liked.

Hyacinthe was just as happy to follow as to lead, kissing her back with enthusiasm and skill--even more skill than she might have remembered from the weekend, as he hadn't more than a decade of isolation to let things grow dull.

Also, he might have been showing off, just a little. Miss Ada Miller seemed worth showing off for.

He cupped the back of her head, hand gentle on her neck. He wasn't sure how delicate the scales were there, but he knew they were sensitive and he wished to entice, not injure. "You taste of joie," he whispered against her lips. "Cold and sweet and make my head spin."

Turtle & Canary, Thursday

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