fightlikehell | (no subject)

It is not long before she replies. Happy NYE. :) I have a book to keep me company. You?

She is woefully unprepared for whatever plans she doesn't know she has. Sitting there in her jeans and slippers. Her braids aren't even fancy.

Thank goodness for speedy, instant contact. Matt slows at a vendor. He smells flowers. I'm in need of a little fresh air. Would you be up for coming out? Maybe cashing in on a dance?

Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes.

I mean, kind of a dancing night as it is. I can understand wanting to stay in. Some people are morons for big holidays.

Can he hear her getting excited through texts? Because she totally is. Yes! That sounds great. What time? I need to get ready.

She may have just jumped over her coffee table to get to her room that little bit faster. It's a good thing she doesn't have any pets, they would be so confused right now.

No, but the speed of reply does lend itself. Good. Now he's not the only one. Whenever you're ready. I'm actually out right now. Would you mind if I stopped by? Please don't rush. Do whatever you need to.

Because ladies take time. That's an accepted fact. And besides that he's getting the flowers wrapped up so...

The typos are because she's digging under her bed to find her dancing shoes. thatd b fine need directions? He can figure it out. And he can tease her about it later if he wants to.

There are a lot of fussy things ladies are expected to do to get ready, yes. But she's trying to be quick; a deadline she respects means she can't debate her options endlessly. Would she have put in more effort if he'd given her more warning? Yes. But she also would have worried and fussed and changed her mind several times.

Forgiving her typos is like forgiving him misspeaking which has happened. Those homonyms too. Oh and just forget emojis. Matt collects his purchase before getting back to her. I think that I can manage. Thank you.

Fussing ends up to be worth it he's learned. If they look nice, they feel nice. Feeling nice is what this is about.

Be there in ten or so.

Ok.

This is not okay this is a crisis situation! Thank the gods she's so organized, otherwise, she'd be on the fast track to a meltdown. She can handle this. She'll be fine. She's got this. Specifically, she's got this cute little asymmetric dress of varying fabrics in black and silver, mint green and silver dancing shoes, and what will be an elegant updo if the gods and the bobby pins are kind.

She might even have it all on by the time he gets to the door...

A tower isn't hard to miss. With or without eyes there is something obscuring sound. And he comes upon the place. Or what he hopes. If not he'll get better directions. Matt knocks on the door and takes a deep breath.

I think I'm here.

Even in a crazy place like this, towers do stand out. Something about the bulk of stone. He knows he's at the right wizard's tower when the door opens a moment later and there she is, with her flower-scented hair and roses-and-spice perfume and racing pulse. "Hi. Come in."

Heven help her, he's in a tux. She was not prepared for this. "You look nice. I um. Might be underdressed for where we're going..."

A tower conjures all these fairytale ideas. Verity is here and very real. The extra something to her usual skin and hair is a treat. Matt steps in and holds out his offering. His directions to the florist were to be sure they're pink and purple and that it smells nice. One thing he can attest for.

"I won't tell. Uh. I can always remove the tie." That dresses down the look. He smiles and takes in the whole tempo of her pulse. "I'm sure it'll be fine." Because whatever she's wearing his swishing and whispering the way synthetic fabrics do.

He'll get plenty more fairytale ideas when he meets her host. They might be of the 'save the damsel from the ogre' variety, depending on Naugus' mood. His tantrums are legendary. But she's not thinking about that when there are pretty flowers to admire. "They're so pretty, thank you." Lilies and roses always smell lovely together. She will enjoy these so much.

"Don't you dare. You look amazing." Nobody's ever worn a tux for her before; she doesn't want to spoil it. But she does want his opinion on her dress, so her free hand takes one of his and guides it up to her shoulder. "If you can be careful, it's okay to, um, examine. Tell me if you like it?" So long as he can stand the temptation and the way she's starting to blush.

Does this damsel need saving? The ogre couldn't possibly be so bad if she lives here. Though in his head it seems she's the one who owns the place. Don't ask why the notion is there. It's that take charge, Manhattanite attitude. He beams knowing that the flowers are a just what he was asking for.

"Thank you," spoken even with a dip of his head. His glasses and cane are part of the ensemble but there's something different about the cane. She'll see later. "I--oh." The fabric is nice, dressy but not embellished. He feels along the shoulder and carefully lets his hand drop to her waist, still smoothing along and it's then that he finds the skirting. "That's fantastic." Paired with the glow of her face Matt can finish his assessment with, "you're beautiful." And Verity knows he means it.

This damsel needs saving, but not from the ogre. Just don't ever tell him that he's not the boss anymore. The rooms on the ground floor have a definite 'Verity lives here' vibe, being full of her furniture and decorations; Naugus finds stone everything both appropriate and comfortable while Verity has become a big fan of area rugs.

If he'd worn a top hat, the cane would be part of the debonnaire ensemble. They'll have to plan ahead and go full-on Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire next time. She stands still while he explores, her breathing shallow and a little quick, trying to distract herself by thinking about what kinds of fabrics he'd find more interesting and that is not a great way to distract herself. The report of positive findings gets a smile and a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

And then there's an awkward moment when his hand is on her hip and she's not sure what to do. Oh! Flowers. Good excuse. "I need to put the flowers in water and finish getting ready," she explains, her tone half apologetic as she steps back. "You want a drink? Coffee, wine...?"

As progressive and open minded as Matt acts, he is highly responsive to damsels. Their distress increases urgency. If he's going to show up at all it's going to be suited. Just... usually there's body armor, horns and batons. That wouldn't work here. There's a nice carpet under his feet. And the way sound carries it's a nice, rustic structure with a great use of space. That tends to not be found in male decor.

No top hat. Matt had to be sure to comb his hair right and put something in it. Not too bad for a first go. Verity might be staying still but there's still so much activity in her heart and lungs. He keeps his touch steady and with purpose, no desire to add fuel to the fire.

"Water for me too, please." He pulls back his hand and lets it return to his side.

He's wearing the perfect suit for the kind of distress she's been in lately. The horns probably wouldn't meet the dress code wherever they're going, and even he can't hit ethereal concepts like grief. It probably wouldn't help anyway.

His hand isn't getting that far away; she catches it in her own to guide him into the living room. He could find his own way, she knows that, but this also is a subtle way to tell him he's welcome to. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back."

Which, alas, does mean letting go of his hand again. They'll endure the separation. There's a big stone throne by the fireplace; it doesn't match the rest of the furniture at all. Everything else is soft and comfortable. There's a small pine tree on a table by the window, a leftover from the holidays? There's no ornaments on it now, but there are dry seed pods left in it that must have been part of the decorations.

The kitchen isn't far. He can listen to her moving around, trimming the flowers and putting them in water with a bit of plant food. Then she fills a glass for him before coming back. "Here you go. I'm going to finish getting ready. I'll leave the doors open, so feel free to come talk or whatever if you want to." Her bedroom is off the living room, not so different from an apartment back home. No going upstairs for either of them right now.

As long as the job gets done. That's what it's all about. And some fun and revelry along the way. This is not one of those times for violence. Matt Murdock recognizes that. Strategy is still useful and important.

Being guided along he doesn't have to fret about things in his way so he can freely take in acoustics. Spacious and cozy. "Thanks." The hint of pine gives off the lingering glow of the past holiday. So nice.

Parting hands is something that gets more and more sad but the promise of being able to have her hand for the rest of the night makes it easier. "Ah. Thanks." He takes a sip of water and listens where Verity goes. The stone chair does get his attention. Curious thing. Big. Huh. Another sip before he steps to where she disappeared.

"Hell of a difference from an apartment." Matt laughs now thinking on his own decision like there was no other options. It is comfortable. And this much space, what on earth would he do with it really.

He's a wise man, not trying to pummel her problems into submission with the more obvious distractions of drink and vice. Father Lantom would be pleased.

"Isn't it? There's no electricity, Naugus won't have it. But the fridge is magically cold and the oven is far more consistent than anything back home. There are definite perks." And running water, don't ask where it comes from she could not tell him. A little makeup, a little jewelry, he won't be waiting long. "It takes some getting used to. I have to go out every day to find someplace to charge my phone and laptop."

Her bedroom is nice, comfortably sized; some of the furniture is stone that seems to have grown out of the floor and walls. It smells like lavender and her. Every inch of the floor is covered in soft rugs; somebody doesn't like cold stone floors in the morning. There's a bathroom attached, into which she comes and goes as she finishes getting ready. "I'm not getting bad girlfriend points for making you wait, am I?"

Father Lantom would try to council him on patience, about opportunity, about the nature of temptation. And Matt would listen. And agree and... stick with the plan. Yeah, they could get carried away but they won't. They're going to dance and have a drink or two. Last he knew they were both responsible adults and ones that were in agreement to just take it slow.

This is still slow, right?

Matt has a little more water before he wanders closer to the sound of her voice. "...Really? What about heating? I mean, it's chilly out. In here it's comfortable." The carpet makes this room warmer, cozier. The smell settles any nerves he was trying to iron out.

"Not a chance. I'm the one coming at you by surprise. I knew I was in for a wait."

This is slow. Friendly dancing with friends is perfectly fine. It'll even be a polite kind of dancing. Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all...

"Magic. I don't understand how any of it works, but I trust Naugus and haven't been less than pleased with the results so far." She pauses for a moment before she finishes with her earrings and turns to him. "It's hard, sometimes, not understanding. It's hard to trust people enough to accept all of this. The magic, and the generosity. But... I was lonely and scared before I came here, Matt, and I'm less of those things now."

She probably sounds like a fool, shrugging and allowing herself to live in a place built and demolished on a whim. But it's better that he knows her bad sides before she gets too attached.

"And I'm ready now. Here, let me..." take his hand again and guide it up to her hair. "We can do a before-and-after, you can judge how much the dancing has made my hair fall apart by the end of the night."

The pace itself is like a dance. Easing and aware, not practiced but impromptu. Side by side weaving into complimenting steps yet not quite synchronization. They have their own style and tempo. It's a matter of time before they cross just right. Father Lantom is not a dancer or a fighter just very much a father aware of the nature of sins great and small.

"I think that generosity is easier to grasp than magic." His expression gentles as he listens. "You don't have to explain. This is a very new step in your newest chapter. It was a good choice. You're comfortable here. I can tell. That's a kind of magic I think." A subject he holds no authority over other than to put it to the inexplicable. She needed something different from what she had known and to feel safe. That's all that matters to him. ....the wizard detail though will have to sink in. Give him time. The jingle of her earrings is a pleasant, new sound.

Matt's lips part as he's pulled off track by the touch of her hand. Again he gets the chance to see her own work. Intricate and carefully arranged. "I really don't know how you do it." He smiles and touches over the decoration and tapers to her earrings. "I like it all."

Synchronization takes time. Complimentary is a great place to start. It keeps them close while leaving space to find their footing together without stepping on toes. The rest, well, practice makes perfect.

"You think so?" She finds it easier to accept inexplicable forces in the universe than that people like her. What a life she's lived. But there he goes, being sweet when she isn't expecting it. It's altogether too distracting. "Thank you. It is magical," she agrees. It's like a fairy tale: there's a curse and a tower and a handsome knight and she doesn't understand any of it.

"It's just braids and bobby pins." Her hair, like most of her life, is far less complicated than it appears. Gods and wizards and magical realms and all, sure, that's stuff in her life; but they're all people trying live their lives and deal with new situations. That's not so different. "Thank you. So, now that we approve of each other for the evening, shall we go show off for everyone else?"

Every journey, every dance...everything, starts with a step.

"Generosity can be attributed to the need to do good, the need to help. And that comes from personal values. Magic is still that fuzzy, undefined area. Who knows where it comes from. Who knows where it goes when it's through." He implies that good things keep going. That might be debatable. For some it might as well be a fairy tale.

Matt laughs a little. Just braids, just bobby pins. Things he's not even so sure about himself. "For being those things, it is impressive." No, he's not letting her toss that compliment. It's his turn to take her hand.

"I'm ready when you are. Need to uh lock up? Anyone need to know when you'll be back?" And one more joking question. "Do you have a curfew?"

"Naugus might know. He'd probably claim to anyway if I wasn't in the room. I should make sure to introduce you to him soon." So many people for him to meet. Names and voices to remember. Good thing he's so smart. Whether or not good things keep going... she doesn't know. She doesn't have the life experience to have an opinion worth sharing.

"Thank you." She'll take the compliment. There'd been no intention to diminish it, she thought he might appreciate the explanation. But accepting it and holding his hand after seems to be a winning strategy and she'll go with that. "No need to lock up, but I should leave a note to be polite."

The question about her curfew gets an amused huff from her, but no answer until she's written the note and left it in the kitchen. "Yes. If I'm not home by the stroke of midnight, I'll get turned into a toad. One covered in warts. And then he'll never ever let me out to play again. It's tragic, really."

He can laugh at that, or he can help her with her coat. Or both.

What kind of a name is Naugus? What kind of a guy is he anyway? These are questions to be answered at a later time. More names more details. Matt is fairly good at keeping everything in line.

The familiar scratching of paper under a writing utensil is always somehow soothing to Matt. He waits calmly. "Well then, there's nothing wrong with coming back before everyone rushes to leave. Midnight is a big deal tonight for toad types and everyone else. " Matt laughs and shakes his head. "I think it would have some kind of loophole. One year between each side of midnight. And that's absolutely unfair to homebodies." But really though, as he hears the rustle of her coat and moves to hold the shoulders while she shrugs it on.

"What if you get a kiss before midnight? Would that stop anything?" he speaks softly still keeping the lighter humored tone in his voice. But it is something to work out before the time comes. Yes to going out, yes to a dance. Matt can accept a no.

Oh, is he ever in for a treat when he meets her roommate/host/racist grandpa. Endless fun, that guy.

When did kissing come int--oh, wait, right. That's traditional. No reason to blush so her cheeks can stop that any time now. "I've heard that true love's kiss is supposed to break all kinds of curses," she answers with a smile, settling her coat before doing up a few buttons. Glancing over her shoulder at him, she teases, "So if you find him, send him my way. Or her. I'm not picky."

And then it's out into the cold night full of half-bare legs and regret. But a long skirt would get slushy. There's no winning sometimes. She really hopes it's not a long walk.

Ooh, fancy, with pictures and everything! :D

I try!

You spoil me. ( ˘ ³˘)<3

;D

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https://vimeo.com/6971656

the classics!

Gotta remember where we're coming from. ;)

respect yer elders

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http://bit.ly/1OwaUYk

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