Devil May Cry © Capcom

Bouquet of Calendula

Jason M. Lee

Nobles-verse: Hand-Kissing

If Kyrie wasn't bored before, now she was wishing she had slipped one of her smaller books with her.

Being Credo's "female escort" took many wind out of the sails of the young knights that she knew, most of them far too intimidated of her older brother to even bother a simple conversation. The rest of the female guests present about the banquet hall either fell into the vapid category of seeking good husbands and climbing the social ladders, those far too headstrong for her to be fully comfortable around with (even if she rather enjoyed seeing them take down unwanted suitors several pegs), as well those who were already attached that didn't seem ready to leave their significant others. And then there were those that were never the talkative types, that simply watched others with blank stares, which made her almost question what was going through their minds (and she wasn't keen on wanting to be like them).

She disliked these social functions as much as Credo did, preferring ones like the festivals, where those attending were more freer and more open with little worries. Alas, he was supporting both of them and had to carry on the family name, so "making nice" was necessary. At least he wasn't pushing for her to pick a husband, even though she was nearing the marrying age.

Snapping her fan shut in frustration, Kyrie decided a small snack might help alleviate her mood. The next problem arose when she came to the buffet table and saw the laid out spread. The host had certainly spared no expense on the variety. More than half were those she knew that were consumed by the more higher echelons of nobles (she and Credo came from a much lower rank, even though their father was a mid-ranking knight), while others resembled the more fancier versions of what she'd usually see from the small cafes. At a loss of what to even pick, Kyrie stared at the incredible selection with a hint of despair.

"Try the strawberry cream tarts," a male voice muttered next to her. "They're not distasteful."

Almost startled, Kyrie forced herself to not stare at the gleaming silver-white hair on a young man who towered one head over her and was certainly within her age range. Whilst his clothes resembled the white dress uniform Credo was wearing, it looked far more utilitarian with its dark blues and splashes of red. "A recommended favorite, I suppose, milord?"

An un-gentlemanly snort as he gathered a large variety onto his plate. While his pile was far higher than those on the pompous fops' plates further down the table, something about his movements made Kyrie think that it wasn't out of gluttony. "More like my uncle's favorite. Anytime there's a treat with strawberries in them, he'll all but insist on taking the entire tray with no regards for others. And if you try to take one for yourself, he'll simply whine like a child the entire time until something else distracts him. Now, those blackcurrant tarts, those I prefer. And you don't need any formalities with me. Can't stand them."

Kyrie couldn't help but smile, and relaxed a bit, although she dipped slightly into a proper curtsy. "Kyrie of House Eleison, milord."

Gray eyebrows furrowed at her use of the title, but he returned back with a proper bow. "Nero, milady."

"No house name, milord?" There was a hint of an otherworldly sense from him, a touch of wildness, but where it seemed to garner barely hidden skittish looks from the other guests, she felt safe in his presence.

"I am..." A hint of chagrin on his face as he straightened, unconsciously rubbing his nose that would've brought down a smack of the ruler from one of her old etiquette teachers. "...uncomfortable of speaking it in such a public setting. My... esteemed grandfather and father are somewhat... notorious among certain circles, my uncle more so in other circles. I would really like to let my grandfather and grandmother enjoy themselves tonight with little trouble, if you don't mind my withholding. Even though trouble tends to find us..."

The mumbled last part set alight to her curiosity, but politeness that had held her tongue on questioning his hair reigned, and Kyrie simply nodded. She had already noticed several surprised glances from some of the other guests that she and Nero were passing by, yet the barely veiled incredulous looks from several women behind their fans made her bristle internally for some reason. "You said notorious. Should I be worried then that your family are possibly a band of bandits masquerading as nobles?"

Another snort, this time of amusement as they both made their way towards one of the open balconies further away. "No, my family are not a group of robbers. Although my uncle would find that hilarious. No, we simply have a certain reputation that often gets ahead of us, which sadly leads to the aforementioned notoriety. From what my uncle and grandmother told me, my grandfather had been involved in incidents that made him somewhat infamous. My father is heir, and I suppose you could see where that leads to. Now, my uncle, on the other hand... He drives my father into cursing his existence, for he is constantly doing things that is-" Nero straightened his back and mimicked what was apparently his father's tones, "-'unbefitting of a son of a noble lord of such an esteemed house, why would you return back covered in feathers and honey. No, do not answer that. Remove yourself from my presence and clean up after yourself before Mother finds some other more worthy punishment.'"

This time, Kyrie couldn't help the round of giggles that escaped, prompting a smile on Nero's face as well. "Oh, goodness! Quite the rapscallion, was he?"

"Still is. He just finds more outrageous ways these days. You?"

"Me, no, but my teachers are often requesting that I put my books down and focus more on my dancing and lute lessons." She took a sip from her flute of sparkling wine, enjoying the rare opportunity to savor the bubbles that danced across her tongue. Truly, the host had gone all out, to even include sparkling wine.

Nero raised an eyebrow as he bit into his blackcurrant tart. "Anything you're currently reading at the moment?"

"De Monarchia," Kyrie answered smoothly, lifting her chin, as if daring him to question her choice of literature.

That prompted a raised eyebrow from him before his lips twitch into an almost smirk. "Well, then..."

Hours. They spent much of the time talking away while eating the rest of their plates in between, debating various topics ranging from discoveries of faraway lands to relearning old equations that brought more than one curious glance from the passersby. He spoke of learning swordsmanship under both his father and uncle, she shared the better ways of memorizing details. For all intents and purposes, Nero and Kyrie were in their own world, under the night sky as the spring breeze drifted by.

The majordomo soon made the announcement of the night's final dance. Nero glanced at Kyrie, causing her to raise an eyebrow at him. With a slight cough, he stood up from his seat and made a rather gallant bow, extending out his right hand.

"Shall we dance, milady?"

Kyrie didn't miss the fact that he had consistently eaten with his left hand during the entire time. As she placed her left hand into his right, she noticed that it felt different than what she expected how a normal swordsman's hand would feel. She had felt Credo's callouses on his hands many times before - Nero's right hand felt more than that.

Rougher, but as if hidden under a layer.

She's read the stories. Heard the low voices when Credo and his knights thought she wasn't listening in on.

She didn't look away from stormy blue eyes as she curled her fingers deeper into his. "I would very much enjoy this dance with you, milord."

A brief flash of relief, and a more genuine smile as Nero led her back into the hall. Both of them ignored the whispers that started buzzing within their vicinity, focusing on the music and each other as the steps and other dancers flowed around them, lessons guiding their feet with ease.

The song ended with them still holding each other's gaze, gauging. Kyrie was sure that Nero had many more things that he wasn't quite willing to share yet, but she wasn't going to pry and was willing to let those details come at their own pace (although she wouldn't be against some minor prodding). Credo's calling her name had her executing a one-handed curtsy and just as she was about to turn, Nero's lips ghosted over her knuckles.

Light and chaste, unlike the lingering ones she had experienced before that made her skin crawl. He was still looking at her as he straightened slightly from his bow.

"Shall we meet again in the future, milady?"

Previous heat at such a question had been that of indignant fury. Kyrie didn't fight the warm pink that dusted on her cheeks this time.

"I would be delighted to, milord."

Another smile, this one softer and his voice dropped to a bare whisper for her ears only. "Nero, of House Alighieri."

A/N: negaverse_queer over on Twitter had created a "Smooch-tober" list for artists doing Inktober, where it's basically 31 days of something pertaining to kissing. Being a writer, words are the tools I use (plus dictionaries and other literary devices), and this would be nice practice to push my limits. Plus, I'm a sap.

Day 1 - "Kiss on the hand".