Admiral
Chapter Five
Blue Midnight in Mourning
There were few real advantages to being admiral, and too many expectations. There was an International Fleet banquet tonight, for the graduation of the last of the Battle School candidates.
Three years had passed, and the unspoken rift between Eriol and Tomoyo had never quite completely been repaired. They were still as civil and elegant and poised as ever towards each other and towards all, but the intangible chasm was there but untouched. It was an awkward chasm.
Eriol was a jaded, cynical, beautiful young general now, and throngs of screaming girls regularly followed him to places. They sometimes bore signs allowing him to "conquer their planet" too. However, the media never even caught a whiff of his private life. He was too clever for them to beat.
He had commanded an army against the insurgents in the Eurasian continent, and won and kept the worlds of men safe from their weapons of mass destruction. He was also then granted a status of general, and was the face that represented the International Fleet to the world. He did not have much to believe in anymore.
Tomoyo had grown into an ethereal beauty who was shockingly talented in the requisite arts and was a brilliant member of the world's collection of literati and artiste. Her brilliance and perfection in all aspects was lauded throughout all the worlds.
They two were the two most gossiped about pair in every world that men had conquered. There were always pictures of them on the nets and talk and articles about them. Curiosity and speculation ran rampant, never sated in the least. But for now, the media could wallow in the precious luxury of being allowed into Eriol's estate and film the two most beautiful people in the world.
A gorgeous quintet of a pianoforte, two violins, a viola and cello made a dramatic and unearthily gorgeous palette of sound in Eriol's great reception room. The soft, solid humming of hundreds of guests in formals filled the air until it could almost be touched, but Tomoyo had decided that it was too overwhelming. No, she did not like crowds. She was reserved at best, reclusive normally.
Jasmine scented the balmy air sweetly, blooming pale and fragrant in the gentle light of a waning moon and coldly glittering stars. Tomoyo sighed softly, sweeping flowing skirts of the deepest sapphire blue of ocean depths across the cool Carrara marble. The silk was so fine, so light, that it had been proclaimed that she wore raiment of seawater. It took numerous layers of the precious fabric to avoid having a transparent dress, draped in a manner reminiscent of a greek goddess. Enormous blue sapphires girdled a slender waist, and were scattered casually through flowing hair, and she looked like a creature of the sea. Understated silver sandals occasionally showed sapphires on her ankles, too, while enormous blue teardrops hung from her ears. She was a rare valuable sight to behold, indeed.
She did not want to return, to the carefully chosen press who were allowed in for the first time in history, for them to take the innumerable pictures and videos to be set on the nets. The wind tuggled flowing layers of deep silk directly up. She was exasperated with them, but a voice that spoke her name shocked her out of any exasperation. Truth be told, the deep masculine voice seemed to vibrate to her very self.
"Eriol." Her mezzo soprano chimed softly like silver.
He was clothed in black broadcloth formals, three carat diamond cufflinks and a titanium encased watch. He practically shouted of immense wealth and arrogance along with it. She did not need this. She did not want to speak with him.
"You should come back now. The press will be suspicious if we two are missing for too long. You know that, Tomoyo. That is the bargain we struck for this party. You as my hostess. You are not to be roaming around staring at stars."
Tomoyo ignored him pointedly. She sometimes still despised him, sometimes wished to bridge the chasm that had grown between them. But it was impossible to bridge it. Too much time had passed, too much politeness was amongst them. He was untouchable as the moon.
But he was as beautiful as the moon. She thought that he was not human for his alien, remote beauty. It was beauty that drove women mad with a glance, and titillated the world with a smile. It was godly, and that was where the world had set him. As an infallible, untouchable, utterly perfect god.
It was a heavy burden to bear.
"Tomoyo," he said now with a more gentle tone. "Come with me."
She turned to regard his exquisite profile in the moonlight, the cello singing with its almost human voice, mournfully, faintly drifting in the night air. His aristocratic breeding was evident in the straight, thin arrogant nose and high forehead, the high cheekbones, a tale of generations of selectivity. He was polished and poised and unbreachable, and then she thought that she had had too much wine. Yes, that was probably the case.
Her head had just received the quantity of liquor that she had consumed, and her thoughts were swimming, ephemeral. She intensely hated herself right then for loosing control. But then, she wanted to control Eriol more than she did herself. Perhaps it could be done.
"I am yours." She said coldly.
Even in the dark, she could see his head move faintly, quickly in surprise.
He said nothing.
Tomoyo's head tilted back slightly in her icy, chiming crystal laughter.
"Do you not want me as your own, precious one?" she asked him archly. "But the world wants me, and you are not of the world. They have set you upon high in Olympus, separated from the sublunary ones. Though I must wonder, what did you think when you used to look at me? When you look at me still?"
His voice was cool and cavalier and distant.
"You have had too much of the champagne, beautiful one." His nickname for her faintly mocked what she had called him.
"But truth rings out still, doesn't it, darling Eriol?"
He would not answer. Tomoyo's lips curved into a secretive smile, her sweetly treacherous smile that was faintly jeering. Eriol watched her inscrutably in the moonlight. He would not give way.
But all of a blink of a second, he moved with his fighter's grace and fighter's speed to capture her, to capture deep blue silk scattered indiscriminately with sapphires, black waves of heavenly magnolia-scented tresses, a slim frail frame that seemed to be constructed of porcelain and ivory.
"A surprise, Eriol?" Her voice was soft, whispering silver.
"I had thought that you have had many women. I had believed that you cared nothing for me, your looks at me notwithstanding."
"Many." He agreed. "But all of them poor substitutes for you, beautiful one." His sardonic voice laughed at her, and his very familiar smile was elegantly malicious.
Tomoyo watched him with a frank curiosity.
"Would you not have the true one?" she asked. "You have me trapped."
"Mm." His single utterance was bemused. "Perhaps I should at that." And he kissed her with a considerable, cavallier pent-up passion that made her fingertips tingle and forget that she still sometimes despised him, that he sometimes mocked her with a dark sardonic humour laced with courtesy.
She forgot all, save him. His lips played over hers hungrily, with an intensity that spoke volumes.
"Is it the Götterdämmerung now, Eriol? Hark, the end of all, even the great Yggdrasil, when the Valkyries flee, and Valhalla crumbles to dust?" Her breathy voice was sultry, and sarcastic, but it made him shiver ever so slightly, as if it vibrated throughout the length of his entire body.
He shook his head in an admonitory fashion and laughed at her joke.
"Do not wax poetic, dear Tomoyo. Those gods were right to know that they were up for a terrible tumble from their heights, now weren't they? And only you have seen my 'dusk,' as you would call it, but only you have seen my fall to the not so lunary. And perhaps you will have seen that doomed sunset with me, my goddess."
Tomoyo laughed softly.
"No, the world sees you still on high, and there you shall remain. Only I have come to join you as one of the Twelve of Olympus. There is no dusk, not that I can see."
"Tomoyo, do you really want them to see us together? When each of our marginal movements are displayed for the world?"
She was silent.
"No, I do not want that."
"I love you and I adore you, Tomoyo."
There was a faint catch of surprise in her breath. There was a keen, alert look in his eyes, as if she would flutter away before he could blink if he didn't watch carefully enough.
"I had thought you had tired of me, with all of those, well, women companions of yours."
"Never!" he said with his suave, sardonic humor.
"Only because I couldn't have you, lovely one."
"Uh huh. I will ignore my misgivings on your more licentious behavior. And you do know that I love you."
The startled turn of his head was enough. He loved her, and that was enough.
"I didn't think that you did, beautiful one. But we must return to the curious hordes. We will speak of this later." Yet he had a look in his eyes as if he had just been saved from a certain death. It was as if his eyes glowed with unspoken affection and triumph and happiness. How did her eyes look, she wondered?
"It is almost over, anyhow. There is no point in returning."
He raised her hand to his mouth, and kissed it, almost reverently, and laid it against his arrogant cheek, his prideful dark head bending as he laid it against his face.
There was a tight rein of control on his face, as he questioned, almost casually,
"Then would you hate me if I asked you to stay with me, beautiful one?"
Tomoyo gazed on him with her inscrutable, lovely eyes. It was a beautiful night.
Chapter Five
Blue Midnight in Mourning
There were few real advantages to being admiral, and too many expectations. There was an International Fleet banquet tonight, for the graduation of the last of the Battle School candidates.
Three years had passed, and the unspoken rift between Eriol and Tomoyo had never quite completely been repaired. They were still as civil and elegant and poised as ever towards each other and towards all, but the intangible chasm was there but untouched. It was an awkward chasm.
Eriol was a jaded, cynical, beautiful young general now, and throngs of screaming girls regularly followed him to places. They sometimes bore signs allowing him to "conquer their planet" too. However, the media never even caught a whiff of his private life. He was too clever for them to beat.
He had commanded an army against the insurgents in the Eurasian continent, and won and kept the worlds of men safe from their weapons of mass destruction. He was also then granted a status of general, and was the face that represented the International Fleet to the world. He did not have much to believe in anymore.
Tomoyo had grown into an ethereal beauty who was shockingly talented in the requisite arts and was a brilliant member of the world's collection of literati and artiste. Her brilliance and perfection in all aspects was lauded throughout all the worlds.
They two were the two most gossiped about pair in every world that men had conquered. There were always pictures of them on the nets and talk and articles about them. Curiosity and speculation ran rampant, never sated in the least. But for now, the media could wallow in the precious luxury of being allowed into Eriol's estate and film the two most beautiful people in the world.
A gorgeous quintet of a pianoforte, two violins, a viola and cello made a dramatic and unearthily gorgeous palette of sound in Eriol's great reception room. The soft, solid humming of hundreds of guests in formals filled the air until it could almost be touched, but Tomoyo had decided that it was too overwhelming. No, she did not like crowds. She was reserved at best, reclusive normally.
Jasmine scented the balmy air sweetly, blooming pale and fragrant in the gentle light of a waning moon and coldly glittering stars. Tomoyo sighed softly, sweeping flowing skirts of the deepest sapphire blue of ocean depths across the cool Carrara marble. The silk was so fine, so light, that it had been proclaimed that she wore raiment of seawater. It took numerous layers of the precious fabric to avoid having a transparent dress, draped in a manner reminiscent of a greek goddess. Enormous blue sapphires girdled a slender waist, and were scattered casually through flowing hair, and she looked like a creature of the sea. Understated silver sandals occasionally showed sapphires on her ankles, too, while enormous blue teardrops hung from her ears. She was a rare valuable sight to behold, indeed.
She did not want to return, to the carefully chosen press who were allowed in for the first time in history, for them to take the innumerable pictures and videos to be set on the nets. The wind tuggled flowing layers of deep silk directly up. She was exasperated with them, but a voice that spoke her name shocked her out of any exasperation. Truth be told, the deep masculine voice seemed to vibrate to her very self.
"Eriol." Her mezzo soprano chimed softly like silver.
He was clothed in black broadcloth formals, three carat diamond cufflinks and a titanium encased watch. He practically shouted of immense wealth and arrogance along with it. She did not need this. She did not want to speak with him.
"You should come back now. The press will be suspicious if we two are missing for too long. You know that, Tomoyo. That is the bargain we struck for this party. You as my hostess. You are not to be roaming around staring at stars."
Tomoyo ignored him pointedly. She sometimes still despised him, sometimes wished to bridge the chasm that had grown between them. But it was impossible to bridge it. Too much time had passed, too much politeness was amongst them. He was untouchable as the moon.
But he was as beautiful as the moon. She thought that he was not human for his alien, remote beauty. It was beauty that drove women mad with a glance, and titillated the world with a smile. It was godly, and that was where the world had set him. As an infallible, untouchable, utterly perfect god.
It was a heavy burden to bear.
"Tomoyo," he said now with a more gentle tone. "Come with me."
She turned to regard his exquisite profile in the moonlight, the cello singing with its almost human voice, mournfully, faintly drifting in the night air. His aristocratic breeding was evident in the straight, thin arrogant nose and high forehead, the high cheekbones, a tale of generations of selectivity. He was polished and poised and unbreachable, and then she thought that she had had too much wine. Yes, that was probably the case.
Her head had just received the quantity of liquor that she had consumed, and her thoughts were swimming, ephemeral. She intensely hated herself right then for loosing control. But then, she wanted to control Eriol more than she did herself. Perhaps it could be done.
"I am yours." She said coldly.
Even in the dark, she could see his head move faintly, quickly in surprise.
He said nothing.
Tomoyo's head tilted back slightly in her icy, chiming crystal laughter.
"Do you not want me as your own, precious one?" she asked him archly. "But the world wants me, and you are not of the world. They have set you upon high in Olympus, separated from the sublunary ones. Though I must wonder, what did you think when you used to look at me? When you look at me still?"
His voice was cool and cavalier and distant.
"You have had too much of the champagne, beautiful one." His nickname for her faintly mocked what she had called him.
"But truth rings out still, doesn't it, darling Eriol?"
He would not answer. Tomoyo's lips curved into a secretive smile, her sweetly treacherous smile that was faintly jeering. Eriol watched her inscrutably in the moonlight. He would not give way.
But all of a blink of a second, he moved with his fighter's grace and fighter's speed to capture her, to capture deep blue silk scattered indiscriminately with sapphires, black waves of heavenly magnolia-scented tresses, a slim frail frame that seemed to be constructed of porcelain and ivory.
"A surprise, Eriol?" Her voice was soft, whispering silver.
"I had thought that you have had many women. I had believed that you cared nothing for me, your looks at me notwithstanding."
"Many." He agreed. "But all of them poor substitutes for you, beautiful one." His sardonic voice laughed at her, and his very familiar smile was elegantly malicious.
Tomoyo watched him with a frank curiosity.
"Would you not have the true one?" she asked. "You have me trapped."
"Mm." His single utterance was bemused. "Perhaps I should at that." And he kissed her with a considerable, cavallier pent-up passion that made her fingertips tingle and forget that she still sometimes despised him, that he sometimes mocked her with a dark sardonic humour laced with courtesy.
She forgot all, save him. His lips played over hers hungrily, with an intensity that spoke volumes.
"Is it the Götterdämmerung now, Eriol? Hark, the end of all, even the great Yggdrasil, when the Valkyries flee, and Valhalla crumbles to dust?" Her breathy voice was sultry, and sarcastic, but it made him shiver ever so slightly, as if it vibrated throughout the length of his entire body.
He shook his head in an admonitory fashion and laughed at her joke.
"Do not wax poetic, dear Tomoyo. Those gods were right to know that they were up for a terrible tumble from their heights, now weren't they? And only you have seen my 'dusk,' as you would call it, but only you have seen my fall to the not so lunary. And perhaps you will have seen that doomed sunset with me, my goddess."
Tomoyo laughed softly.
"No, the world sees you still on high, and there you shall remain. Only I have come to join you as one of the Twelve of Olympus. There is no dusk, not that I can see."
"Tomoyo, do you really want them to see us together? When each of our marginal movements are displayed for the world?"
She was silent.
"No, I do not want that."
"I love you and I adore you, Tomoyo."
There was a faint catch of surprise in her breath. There was a keen, alert look in his eyes, as if she would flutter away before he could blink if he didn't watch carefully enough.
"I had thought you had tired of me, with all of those, well, women companions of yours."
"Never!" he said with his suave, sardonic humor.
"Only because I couldn't have you, lovely one."
"Uh huh. I will ignore my misgivings on your more licentious behavior. And you do know that I love you."
The startled turn of his head was enough. He loved her, and that was enough.
"I didn't think that you did, beautiful one. But we must return to the curious hordes. We will speak of this later." Yet he had a look in his eyes as if he had just been saved from a certain death. It was as if his eyes glowed with unspoken affection and triumph and happiness. How did her eyes look, she wondered?
"It is almost over, anyhow. There is no point in returning."
He raised her hand to his mouth, and kissed it, almost reverently, and laid it against his arrogant cheek, his prideful dark head bending as he laid it against his face.
There was a tight rein of control on his face, as he questioned, almost casually,
"Then would you hate me if I asked you to stay with me, beautiful one?"
Tomoyo gazed on him with her inscrutable, lovely eyes. It was a beautiful night.