In the time it took for Suzaku to walk from Charani's wagon back to the bonfire, he brought himself, and his expression, under control. It took him a moment to search Aurora out – she'd moved, now sitting in the midst of several musicians, a glistening violin held competently in her hands. Impishly, she toodled the bow across the strings with a grin, eliciting a playful, trilling sound. He'd never seen her play the violin before; behind the piano, she manifested a sense of grandeur, a noble sort of sorrow. But she played the violin with charm and mischief, making the grizzled older gentleman sitting to her right laugh delightedly. He stood a little apart, hands in his pockets, content to watch as she amused herself and those around her.
To himself, Suzaku could admit that when Aurora caught sight of him, a smile moving over her face that glittered with warmth and affection, he felt a little proud. To be singled out, by a woman like her. She handed the violin off before rising to join him. Companionably, she linked her arm in his, much as she had earlier as they strolled back to their original seats.
"So? How'd it go?"
"Charani is… very interesting," Suzaku eventually said, deciding keep it vague. Even if he wanted to be specific, he wasn't even sure what exactly to say. Someone handed Aurora a sugared pastry, warm and redolent of cinnamon. As they strolled, she tore it in half, and handed him one of the two pieces.
"She is certainly that," Aurora said with a laugh as they skirted the circle of logs. "Older than the earth itself, or so she would have you believe. Probably somewhere in her nineties, and very spry, if you don't count the cataracts."
Could you even count something like that with a woman like her? Suzaku, however, didn't voice this thought, still a little uneasy with the subject of the tarot card reader.
"How long have you known Charani and her tribe?" he eventually ventured as they sat back down. The scarf she'd acquired during the dance earlier still glittered around her neck, and she played with the tail ends as she thought.
"I met them during my first trip to Ireland. I rarely go a visit without seeing them. Partially because they do some trading with Chandler, and have safe haven on his land, as long as it's respected. That technically includes the stone circle, but those belong to no one but themselves. More it's just because I like them, and they've always been very warm and pleasant to me. Maybe they recognize a fellow outsider," she said quietly with a shrug. Suzaku pondered that; was that why Maloney's tribe had accepted him into their folds for one evening so easily? Yes, he had a trusted escort, but did they see his immense isolation in his life back in Britannia, the way Charani had seen Euphie's death and his sentence as Zero?
Suzaku tried to shake the thought off – of course not. Aurora was a human version of VIP access. Doors opened for him simply because he walked up to them next to her. The mysticism of the evening must be getting to him a little, if he's indulging in fantasies like that.
A gangly teenage boy trotted up to them, and it only took one look to see that he was desperately in love with Aurora. Suzaku felt a flash of sympathy before he cued in to the violin in the boy's hands.
"Aurora," he said a little breathlessly, his voice breaking a little on the last syllable of her name. "Would you mind showing me that violin piece you mentioned earlier?"
She glanced at Suzaku, who felt that flash of pleasure again – to be Aurora's companion, to have her attention and consideration. It was a hefty honor. He rested his hand against her spine, gently pushing her forward.
"Go on. Show them how it's done." Suzaku even threw in a wink to sweeten the deal.
"Alright. Come on, Pat."
He was idly admiring the swing of her hips as Aurora walked away when Maloney sat down beside him.
"I do believe Patrin would kill you if he thought it would win him Aurora," Maloney said lightly as he dropped down beside him. Suzaku chewed this over for a moment before speaking.
"I can't say I blame him. She's a woman men would kill for."
"Aye. Lie, steal, cheat. Start wars, topple governments. She's a regular Helen of Troy, that one. Except, Aurora is not one to be left helpless on the sidelines, and would likely get what she wanted first, instead of driving a man to sin to do it. I saw that you talked to my grandmother earlier," Maloney said, switching subjects with the same bland acuity his daughter did.
"I did," Suzaku said carefully. Maloney rested his elbows on his knees, his large fingers threaded together as he gazed into the roaring fire.
"She's one of the clearest Seers left in the world, but even Grandmama cannot predict with perfect accuracy. You never quite know how the petals will unfold when it comes to the flower of the future. So take heart, and don't let it disturb you. Now let's see what Aurora has in mind."
She was currently giving Patrin and two other young violinists an example to follow. He'd expected something classical, but the melody drifting over was soulful and a little haunting. It took a few rounds before they grasped the melody, leaving Aurora to gather a few more people before setting her bow to strings again.
This time it was a concerted effort, and the notes that had been tickling at Suzaku's memory suddenly coalesced into a song he recognized. The first time he'd heard it, he'd thought of Aurora – appropriate for the woman who traded secrets to sing about them.
She lowered her bow as she sang, the trio keeping up as she sang of stories and blood-stained cuffs. Aurora was no Tiena, but then, who was except the little woman herself? Her voice was clear and a little soft during the first few lines, making Suzaku feel and yearn from across the clearing.
Aurora had a way of communicating through her singing; not just the words, but the way emotions flickered on her face, the tiny gestures of her hands and shifts of her shoulders, that shared volumes. When the music surged, so did her voice, and brought them all into the world of secrets taken, then given away.
When she wasn't singing, her violin joined in, leading the trio with a skill hard-won. When Aurora next sang, her words sank into Suzaku's heart like claws – no family left to blame, begging not to disappear. Through the flames, he could see the way it affected her, even if no one else could. All he knew of her, the confidences that she'd shared with him, added a dimension that resonated when her eyes met his. What was the fate of the secret master when she had no more secrets left to keep?
When the song crisply ended, the audience applauded, and even from his distance away, Suzaku could see the musicians' delight at getting their teeth into a more modern song. Aurora waved off the praise, handed the violin over, then made her way across the fire. As she approached, she mock-pouted.
"That's the thanks I get for singing? You steal my seat?"
Maloney just grinned, one stubborn mischief maker to another. With an exaggerated sigh, Aurora sat on the other side of Suzaku. It was only moments before she leaned forward, however, to speak to Maloney again.
"Think we can convince Tiena to sing a cieli song for us?"
The older man hummed consideringly.
"Perhaps, if you as her nicely. It'd have to be awful nice, though. Looks like she's flirting with her favorite lad at the moment."
"Hmm. Or, you could kill two birds with one stone, ask her yourself, and intimidate Zache into coming up to snuff and trying a little harder."
He just scoffed, then thought it over. Finally, Maloney sighed, heaving to his feet to no doubt perform what he felt was his fatherly duty of snarling at men after his daughter's attention. As they watched him go, Suzaku leaned over a little.
"Is a cieli a dance?" he hazarded. Aurora just smiled softly as she gently bumped her shoulder against his.
"Don't worry. I'll show you how."
By the time the trio tumbled into the house, it was early morning, just shy of dawn. The mists had tattered like torn lace around them during the walk back, the pearly glow of it the first hints of the coming day. Although he hadn't ingested a single drop of alcohol, Suzaku felt a buzz in his blood, an urge to never let the night end. Despite the hour, he was utterly awake, even if that awareness was tinged with a wild edge. He didn't want any of this to stop; he wanted to keep dancing, keep being, keep living. Like he could take on the world, in the most loving, expansive way. Aurora felt it too; the bright edge to her laughter was likely a result of the stimuli of the evening, still riding on the wave of people and song. She rattled around the first level, completely unable to settle down, darting from place to place like a bird. There was also the fact that it had been more than twenty-four hours since either of them had slept, and they were probably displaying a little of the loopiness typical of sleep deprivation.
Ban, however, was no fool. He crashed on one of his beds in a flopping tangle of long limbs, and was promptly asleep and snoring. It took Suzaku and Aurora a while longer, however, before finally admitting defeat. His brain wasn't the least bit tired, but there was a nagging ache of fatigue in his bones, especially his left shoulder. Someone had to be the adult here. But he knew any critical suggestion against Aurora's strength would be taken as an insult and a challenge; he was self-aware enough to know that he had the same trait. So instead, Suzaku fell on the figurative sword, claiming to be a little tired and gently mentioning that perhaps they should head to bed soon. Still, it took a while before they finally got to the staircase.
They'd begun to climb up, Suzaku's foot just resting on the first tread, when Aurora suddenly turned around. There was an expression of intent on her face that had him pausing, instinctively bracing. Yet he couldn't help his fascination at the way the birthing dawn light fell on her flawlessly. It seemed only appropriate that she look so brilliant in the time of her name, her hair sparkling copper and gold with the first rays, the brush of warmth gilding her skin. Queens and goddesses wished they looked the way Aurora did just now in the infant sunlight, resplendent and exquisite. The fact of her long day and even longer night didn't seem to matter; not to Suzaku.
"You know," she said casually as she began back down the stairs, her hand trailing over the railing. Something in the way she moved set off the faintest of alarms in Suzaku's mind – he's seen in before, but where? When? "You still have one more birthday present." That refocused his attention. With raised brows, Suzaku looked pointedly at the windows, the sky beyond heavily painted with lavender, amaranth, and bronze. The stars were gone, the moon having long ago hidden her silvery face.
"Aurora, my birthday has been over for hours."
She paused on the step above him, bringing her eyes level with his, close enough to see the spider webs of silver in her irises.
"A birthday's not over until the dawn that follows," she said quietly, gazing at him in a way that made his muscles quiver a little – it was hard to tell if it was fear or anticipation. He couldn't think of anything to say; he couldn't think of anything at all. Held in captive silence, he could only watch her, watch the way she moved, the way she breathed.
"We still have a little time," Aurora whispered, almost to herself. When she raised her hands, Suzaku froze, his mind slamming to a halt when Aurora's fingers tenderly carded into his hair, one thumb tracing the shell of his ear as her other palm slowly cupped the back of her skull. Her caresses sent shivers through him, through muscles held tight by an ignorance Suzaku suddenly felt trapped by. Everywhere she touched him felt singed, like she was a flame brushing against his naked nerves. Even as she leaned in, crushingly slowly, Aurora's eyes, incandescent and intense, remained open and on his.
Although the majority of Suzaku was petrified by shock and incomprehension, there was a part of him that knew, and waited, hands limp at his sides. When Aurora's lips brushed his, lighter than butterfly wings, eyes still locked together, he didn't know what to do. He didn't know what he wanted. So Suzaku simply stood there as her lips testingly touched his, before retreating slightly.
He could smell her. She smelled of smoke and wildflowers, salt and fruit, like some woodland nymph of legend. And she was killing him, even as her eyes searched his, looking for the slightest dissent. When she found none, her lips touched his again, this time a little firmer, rubbing slightly. He feels exposed under those blue steel eyes, sliced to the marrow by what he saw there, too vast to catalogue, too elemental for him to understand.
While Suzaku's brain had been blanked white by that first staggering meeting of lips, this kiss had color and pleasure flooding behind his eyes with a single spark. His mind swirled and spun, until he was dizzy from it. Or maybe it was because he was holding his breath. Something had him raising his hands to her shoulders – what, he wasn't sure, but he was possessed by a sudden need to touch her, to pass his skin over hers. It was monumental act of will to keep his fingers from digging into her supple flesh.
Aurora stilled somewhat at the contact, drawing back slightly, both of them searching for even a flicker of refusal in the other. He could feel her heartbeat, thick and fast, under his hands, as she stood waiting and acquiescent if he chose to push her away, if that was what he wanted. But he did nothing, didn't even twitch in protest, remaining still and supplicant when she slowly surged forward and her mouth met Suzaku's a third time.
Aurora sank into this kiss, grinding his mind to mush under the drugging meeting of lips, stroking a finger over the pounding pulse in his throat as she inexorably deepened it. Finally, Suzaku's lashes fluttered down as he was consumed by the devastatingly slow, thorough press of her mouth against his. Just as careful and gentle of a teacher as she ever was, Aurora led this dance, the first wet brush of tongues nearly yanking a reckless groan out of him. She tasted of cider and spice, the decadence of it nearly undoing him. Suzaku wasn't sure when his hands slid over her shoulders, down the long, lean line of her back, to rest on her hips. He wasn't aware of tugging her closer, of bringing her into the shadow of his body, where heat mingled and breath mated. The brush of her skirt against Suzaku's thigh nearly ripped his teetering control to shreds; only the shattering press of her mouth against his kept him together, kept him centered.
This kiss ignited something in him; something slow and ardent and searingly hot. It coursed through his blood, pressing against the inside of his skin with a demand he had no ability to recognize. There was a silvery sharpness to his need, a desire to possess and conquer, to brand this moment into his bones. But Suzaku was too overwhelmed by the reality of what was happening to pursue it. He could, however, revel – give himself over to the touch and taste and scent of Aurora. Sometimes they sipped, other times languorously feasted; it was all he could do to remind himself to breathe. Suzaku would never admit it, but after a lifetime of being starved for human contact, this moment altered him in a way he would never be able to describe. After an eternity of famine, this was a richness that obliterated him.
He could have stayed here forever in this drowning need Aurora had provoked, would have fought and bled to defend it, for just a few moments more. So when she slowly drew away, his eyes gradually drifted open, unwilling to relinquish his hold on her yet. But he was forced to let her go, reluctant and craving, staring at the plush color of her lips, the way the blue of her eyes had deepened to near black, her pupils deeply dilated and the flush of blood warm in her cheeks. She smiled a little, before brushing the hair back from his forehead and rising up to her toes to press a kiss there.
"Happy birthday, Suzaku," she murmured, before turning and heading back up the stairs. As her hands slid from his skin and she slipped from his arms, Suzaku suddenly felt achingly bereft, insane and starved and needy and stunned. He could only watch Aurora go, still planted, overwhelmed, at the base of the stairs, helplessly memorizing the line of her spine and the sway of her hips. The movement of her skirt reminded him of how she'd danced by the fire, like some pagan fairy tale brought to breathless life by the magic of the night. About halfway up the stairs, she turned slightly, smiling down at him a little sadly.
"I'll never forget you." Her words were warm and affectionate and blindingly painful. Memory was a sort of immortality; she offered him an existence safe from any other path he would tread, because he would remain in her memories as he'd been in Ireland, for as long as she lived. There was so much there in her eyes; knowledge and sorrow, wishes and acknowledgement. A war raged in her, one he was only now beginning to barely understand.
"And I'll always remember you," Suzaku returned solemnly. She had changed him, irrevocably; the least due he owed her was to always remember her. Aurora's lips quirked a little, feline and coy, yet he recognized it as just a mask to cover the depth of what she felt. There was vulnerability there that mirrored his, and he was humbled by it.
"I know." And with a shadow of a smirk, she turned, and eventually disappeared from sight. Suzaku stood there a long time, trying to control his raging emotions and thoughts, or at least marshal them into some semblance of order in the aftermath. He flexed his stiff hands, only now realizing that he'd fiercely fisted his fingers in Aurora's blouse when she'd kissed him. He'd clung to her even as she'd slingshot him out into the unknown. Yet he'd been there and present every moment, accepting and eager. As he stared down at his hands, Suzaku swallowed, barely resisting the urge to swipe his tongue over his lips, to see if a taste of her still lingered. He didn't regret it, not really; but he'd have to live the rest of his life unable to unknow the feeling of Aurora's lips on his. It was the sweetest kind of torture.
The sun had cleared the horizon. The staircase was bathed in sunlight, the sky now canary yellow and fragile robin's egg blue. Had it been only a few minutes? Never before had that kind of heat roared through him, leaving him wrecked and reeling in the aftermath. Suzaku felt himself being yanked in multiple directions, could hear the yearnings and fears in his head battle each other with bloody intent. It was all he could do to stand, to try and rationalize what Aurora's fire had ignited
Finally, he mastered himself enough to head up the stairs. He understood.
Yay! They finally kissed! Are you guys happy, because I know I am.
The reality of this chapter is, I wrote the second half a month ago. Not this version of it, however. See, in the midst of this whole project, I was moving that section around, from document to document. Long story short, last night was every writer's nightmare – in the course of a long night and an unexpected update on my computer, my piece on the kiss disappeared. There was much hyperventilating and a panicked call to a friend as I wildly talked out what I remembered, in the hopes of reproducing it.
So, this is a frantic re-write. Hence, no update last night. I spent a long time staring at it, fluffing and perfecting and editing, in the hopes of giving you guys something that, if not the same exactly, at least of the same caliber as the original.
I'm still trying not to cry about it.
Song list is on my profile, FYI. You all get cookies for guessing Through Heaven's Eyes.
Hope you guys like it!
Love, Tango