thecapitol | I could show you what you want to see

Entry tags:

I could show you what you want to see | Closed

Who| Meulin and Kurloz
What| Surprising her boyfriend for his birthday
Where| D4 House and beyond
When| Kurloz's birthday
Warnings/Notes| Nothing yet

The morning is not quite morning yet. The sky has lightened but the sun has yet to make it over the horizon. Meulin tends to sleep later than most of the household but even at this utterly inhuman hour, she's sipping her coffee with bright eyes. There's too much to do to get a late start and at least part of her plans is time dependent. Oh yes, She has plans, plans for the start of the day. Plans to have Kurloz to herself. Like most days she has to brave the cold, she's already bundled tight in layers, with a scarf and hat sitting by the door. The best surprise is one that is well prepared for and she has been planning this for a week.

Carefully balancing a cup of coffee with a helpful straw in hand, she taps on his door. She gives it to a count of three, then pushes the door open. Regardless of his status, awake or asleep, clothed or half naked, she bounces over and nudges his shoulder with one hand and drops the coffee onto a nearby surface with another.

"Come on, I have something to show you."

She drops a kiss on his cheek and walks to the closet to find him something warm to wear. Her head tilts at the sheer variety, like it always does, and she finds herself at a loss. She pulls out one sweater, then another and compares the two. Her dear Capitolite boyfriend, dressing for style and not utility. Whatever shall she do with him?

"It's a surpurrise."

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Coffee is a bitter and foul thing that tends to burn like a mother fucker when sipped through a straw to create a concentrated spill of hell juice. But with enough sugar and syrup and caramel shot to drown it out, with milk and cream to cool it, it's something what's a miracle for waking on up.

This morning has him half clothed in a silk robe patterned with skulls, one fuzzy sock, and his normal under garments. He sleeps poorly, as Meulin has come to learn, but that doesn't always mean waking easy. In these times, when he's caught without makeup at all and left bruise-eyed, she comes on in like it ain't a thing.

But she's so sweet and bright, he finds it hard to mind. He leans into her kiss and takes the coffee in hand to sip a little once he's tested it won't hurt him. He blinks up at her then and sets the drink down, sluggishly climbing out of bed. He kisses her cheek back and plucks up the skeleton sweater for that shall always be his favorite.

Well that leaves the choice out of her hands. She wastes a moment leaning into his kiss, humming all too loudly to herself. One sweater down. On to pants. Thought perhaps she should just let him dress in peace.

Instead of doing that, she digs through the rest of his clothes, holding up things for a yes or no. She hasn't his flair for fashion, not in the slightest, but she can at least do colors. Perhaps. Maybe. To her style at least.

"Better wake on up, we have to leave soon. And it's freezing outside."

It should remind of things upsetting, and sometimes it does, but most times he enjoy how loud she hums and even speaks on occasion. It's like a declaration to the world that she's here. It means any song in her heart is a song for all.

He doesn't go for the layers as she does. She holds up shorts and leggings what both get a thumbs up and a nod. Even despite the supposed freezing that is taking place. He has lived here longer than she. The cold is a part of life here.

The sweater is thrown on and over him, hiding his famished frame well. He's quick to do the rest, unbothered if she chooses to watch him or not. He takes that barely-coffee back up again and wanders to her, wondering what surprise might have her feeling in such a hurry. His brows lift, questioning.

Edited 2016-02-05 05:27 (UTC)

There's a skeptical glance at his somewhat spring-like attire but who is she to question his fashion choices. He'll freeze if he wants. She'll wrap the scarf around him if he starts to look like an icicle. As it is, she sits on his bed as he continues getting himself ready. She checks the time on occasion but really spends more time watching him. Ridiculously thin, but beautiful. It simply wasn't fair. The Capitol saps his frame and adds to her own.

"Ah ah, not yet. You'll see when we get there. Bring the coffee with you, you'll need it."

When he's ready, she takes his hand and leads him out to the door. She pulls her hat over her vaguely protesting mass of hair and loops the scarf around her neck. Winter is a cruel and vicious beast. She takes no chances.

And wouldn't you know it, there's a car waiting outside. She waves him in, grinning the whole time.

If he notices her watching him, he's certainly not about to protest. If anything, his grin grows.

Kurloz is typically the orchestrator. He's the Capitolite. He's got the money, the names, everything, all without the tangling strings of fans that come with a victor status. The only downside is that he is so used to doing things on his own, it surprises when things are done for him.

With one hand in hers and the other around the coffee, (and with her sufficiently draped in scarf, his poor summer mage) they walk out into the crisp winter air. It bites but it is a familiar nipping. The car, on the other hand is foreign.

His brows lift even higher but he follows all the way, slipping into the seat it seems he's most wanted in.

The car is nice, with warm heat that soon makes up for the cool air that enters with the open door. There's a driver, who looks like any other driver in the city. Meulin slips in beside Kurloz, leaning over the seat to pass the address to him without Kurloz seeing.

"Just to there, please."

When the car is finally on the move, Meulin settles back in the seat. Her hands tap on her legs in something that might be excitement, might be nerves. It eventually settles as she herself settles against Kurloz. The ride takes some time as they pass through various neighborhoods until they're closer to the edge of the city. The car stops near a park and Meulin turns to Kurloz and grins.

"You have to close your eyes once you get out okay?"

His curiosity just grows and grows. He can't deny, it does make him a little nervous. There's the pattering of anxiety to be found in this lack of control. He has no idea what they're going, he doesn't know what will happen. He has no means of preparation or navigation.

It's a little thrilling, truth be told.

As Meulin settles at his side he settles into her. He kisses what bit of her face he can and leans his head on her when he can't. His hand searches to find hers and wind their fingers together so their palms press tight.

The car stops and once again his brow is lifting, not without its notes of uncertainty. They were both done one sense, in their way, another such as sight was a bit of a higher demand than it would be. But he trusts her. He lets go of her hand and steps out side, blind.

She isn't sure he will do it. It asks a lot of him, a lot of trust. As he steps out, her grins edges into something softer and sweeter, a smile just for him. He can't see it and so there's a soft kiss pressed to his cheek. He does it for her. Steps out with eyes closed. A pleased hum escapes her as her things are carefully arranged around her person to free her hands. Soon she's catching his hands, not the sweet palm to palm, but leading him along.

"Careful. We've a little more walking to do."

Meulin does so carefully guide him, telling him where the edge of paths are as they wander through the park. If it feels like they've gone in circles at one point or another, they might have. She has to keep the timing right. She giggles at the silliness of it all, hands clasped in his, walking backward to keep him on track. Finally, they climb up a set of stairs. It's slow going, a step at a time. She squeaks and stumbles at the top, catching herself before they can go tumbling. Maybe he didn't notice. Maybe. She suspects he's paying even more attention right now. When he's safely at the top of the stairs and far from accidentally falling down them himself, she lets his hands go.

"Not yet!" She cautions, then throws her scarf around his neck, tucking it close. There's a stiff wind here, more so than down in the park and far more than near their home. It carries the smell of water and frost and tugs at his hair and her own. She falls silent but it's hardly quiet. The sounds of her fiddling with something in her jacket and her boot scuffing on pavement as she goes up on tiptoe are just audible over the wind.

He had hoped she might take his hand and he was delighted to be shown right. Even if there is, as she says, much more blind traversing to be preformed, causing his smile to flicker but return fast enough. For some reason, perhaps entirely due to her own credit, he does trust her.

He is careful as can be. Each step is light, testing, before he proper gains footing. The dark path twists and winds and turns them round. All the while he is guided by her hands, following after he voice and laughter. There's something poetic about it all. Something so set to fit how he's spent much his life. The steps they take make him uneasy, but never enough to deter. The one time he nearly truly loses grip is when she squeaks and he lurches forward automatically to catch her, though he knows not how or if he may merely be pushing her over an edge.

They stop at last and he waits as he's told, making a face as he feels her scarf around his neck though he knows not what it is. Only after does he catch the scent of the water. He breathes it in and listens close, brow furrowing as he tries to unravel this mystery.

Her silence drags on a little. Her boot taps the ground impatiently and she's constantly moving in front of him now. A dip to the left, back in front, step to the right. Finally, it seems to decide that whatever she's waiting for has happened. Her movements settle, her hands catches his once more and she goes up on tiptoe to kiss him. She lingers there, close and warm and near him, but soon enough the moment ends. If she wanted to kiss him, there were warmer places to do so and that's not what she came for. Well, not all of what she came for.

"Okay, turn around and open your eyes."

The light as he turns is sudden, brilliant and persistent against his eyelids. It's only more so when he opens them. The sun is just above the mountains across the lake and it illuminates everything in shimmering soft yellow and white. The shadows cast blue on the snow only serve as a beautiful contrast. Everything is frosted over, encased in gilded ice. Meulin carefully steps around to his side, watching the sunrise and him in turn. She'll feel silly if he'd seen this sight before but she hopes he's not. She hopes she found something new for him in his city. Or at least, if he has seen it before, she hopes he finds it still beautiful.

The kiss is quickly ended, though he chases the feeling so slightly into the void. He turns as asked, and opens his eyes, finding immediately that it is all too bright, enough to cause him to flinch and close them. He waits a moment and opens them again, much slower than before so as to allow himself used to the brightness of the world.

He finds his sight, but not his breath. Not after the first great draw of it through threads anyway. He's set here to behold something miraculous. A beautiful dawn in which everything is crystalline and still. Colors can be found everywhere as the sky celebrates and greets the sun and snow and clouds eternally mirror it. The water, the mountains, the sun, the open air; all things meet here. Dare he think it? This is a sacred place.

He's seen it before, but never in this light. He's just passed his own world by, even when he took lengths to find beauty in it where so many others didn't, from the ever displeased offworlders, even to other Capitolites. But Meulin saw it. She found it and she brought it to him.

His hand finds hers.

His eyes say is all really. Wonder and awe. Just what she's hoped. His hand blindly seeks her own and she slips her fingers between his. It feels like one of those quiet mornings. She can't confirm it, but it feels like one. It's the chill in the air, the way people seem to get up late in the Capitol, and the solitude of the little lookout in the park. Behind them, the frozen park is still mostly cast in shadow. Here, up high, the light touches them first. She stares out over the lake, silent for some time as she lets him take it in. Her head rests against his shoulder. It's a few minutes before she speaks and when she does, it's soft.

"Happy Birthday Kurloz. I've something else for you too."

She doesn't offer it yet, though her other hand is toying with something in her pocket.

It does feel like one of them softer morns. Perhaps its the sight before him. Perhaps its the warmth of her fingers contrasting to the biting cold all elsewise, and the light pressure of her head on his shoulder, making him want to lean right on back. It's one of them mornings where nothing needs to be said, really, and not just because of his stitches. This is peace.

His attentions are pulled away from the scene ahead as she speaks. He turns his head slightly to see her better. He watches her reach about her pocket and looks at both it and up at her face with unrestrained curiosity.

A second gift? After all this? A generous one his shipkitten was.

A bright smile meets his curiosity. Her fingers taps the package in her pocket, teasing him with its existence but keeping it hidden from view. It's tempting to keep it and give it to him later but she'd already told him. It seems a little too mean to make him wait.

She pulls out a little green velvet box, though too big to be a ring. It wasn't that she hadn't contemplated rings but this had seemed better. Something fitting. Something for them. The pearl she'd kept around her own neck was gone with Mollusc, perhaps alive, perhaps not, but he could have one of his own. The box is held out for him to take. When it opens, the carved pearl is attached to a thin silvery chain and nestled on a pretty bed of black.

"And that's a happy birthday for every one I missed."

He'd certainly make a huff if he were made to wait after such a cruel tease as she deigns to give, but then, he has been forced into patience for many things, for much longer spans of time. He could probably wait. He is delighted he doesn't have to.

He is surprised by what he sees even before he truly sees it. Some article of jewelry? He was fond of it, but he wouldn't have thought it a thing he'd be given. He tries to think what it could be, the time racing down as he takes the box, gives her one last glance, then opens it for himself.

He had guess wrong. His breath pulls in and a hand lifts to cover his mouth. No one would question the skull being something of his style, but it is the piece from which it's made that really holds him. A pearl. Like the ones they used to search for on the shores.

His heart aches so sharply and suddenly then. He can do nothing but close the box, keeping it held safe in both hands, as he leans in to kiss her.

Meulin watches him so very eagerly. The quick look before he opens it makes her wonder. Does he think she's proposing or something? It's a giddy interesting thought that she'd not prepared for. Not yet, she decides, not right now. She wants the peace that will surely come, the ability to stay with him and not have to worry. It doesn't occur to her that a peace might not come or that they might not be able to stay together. Another thought intrudes, the one that rattled around her head since she'd had it made. Was it the right gift, was it something he'd want? His immediate reaction soothes that. Hand raised in the age old gesture of gratitude, eyes focused on the single shimmering pearl. He sees it and knows everything unsaid by it. It was perfect.

There had been a promise to wear it to extract from him, but she's immediately and pleasantly distracted. His kisses don't always throw every thought out of her head but it's lovely when they do, like a stolen moment of peace. It's all too easy to linger sweetly in it and let her hands find his sweater and grasp it tight. She pulls back just barely, breathless and smiling. Another kiss is stolen quick from his lips and yet one more pressed soft to his jaw.

"It was almost late. I thought it might not come in time."

His girl. His sweet precious kitten. His dearest love and family. She lets him in so easily, like he's not a ruinous thing, like he's just right, fit perfect with her right here and now, like nothing's ever changed and never could.

And she gifts him with an article telling exactly that. A beautiful piece of history, of her, of home. Carved into something Capitol, no, something him. Bones. The aftermath of something harsh, true, but nevertheless bringing something precious out. A cruel but necessary beauty, one that needn't be cruel always ultimately.

His smiles grow greater and softer both, expression near bashful as she kisses his jaw. He looks down at her starry eyed. It's a mix of surprise and happiness to know the plan came about correct. At last, he opens the box again to look at it. The pearl is pulled out carefully, dangled upon the chain. The box is closed and tucked into a pocket. He looks to see if she would like to put it on him, or if not, prepares to do it his ownself.

His face shows something, to borrow his words, miraculous. All that sweetness in his eyes, his smile. It's a side not so often seen. It feels all her own, the moment feels all her own here out in the early morning light.

She takes the pearl with eager fingers, running her thumb over the little pearl skull. It's beautiful. It came out just as she hoped. Even up on tiptoe, he is made to duck so she can get the clasp. Perhaps she should have picked a less fiddly one but it was something made to last. It may take her some time and awkward reaching but when she pulls back and centers it nicely, it's well worth the effort.

"Purrfect."

She bounces on the balls of her feet, hands clasped tight as she takes in the effect. Perfect was right. Small and not too obtrusive, perhaps not to Capitol's usual flamboyance, but she thinks it suits him. Something only the Capitol could bring him in something a little more like Four. Something a little like them.

He doesn't mind having to bend to allow her to string the thing together. It gives him the excuse to get right close to her, to just barely miss the warmth she offers but to feel nevertheless in her careful fingers. His eyes are on her the whole time she works.

He glances away only to observe the result, the necklace secured on him. A little like them. Yes, he agrees.

He moves then, while still close, to kiss her once more, a wordless note of agreement. Purrfect.

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I could show you what you want to see | Closed

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