Quality Time

[Cassandra Reeding]

There is so much to do and she knows she'll never feel quite ready with how much there is to do around John's kitchen. It's clean, but not the kind of neat Cassandra is used to. She is orderly and everything has a place. Perhaps it is part of the way she nests in her own place. There is a safety net there in her home and perhaps it is trying to surprise John at his own place that is nerve-racking. Especially given tonight. They need to renew their oath and she's ready for a year and a day. At least, her brain is. Her heart wants this man for an eternity and even though they won't solidify that for some time, she wants him to know she feels that way, even if she doesn't say it in those exact words.


The Fairest walks around the kitchen, cleaning up in between cooking steps, trying not to get anything on her dress at the same time. She's dressed in a mid-thigh length, black dress that hugs her curves in just the right way. The sleeves are long and lacy and she's got on a pair of black tights in a similar lace pattern. Her hair is down, though the curls she'd tried to iron in have completely fallen out leaving her with the slightest wave. Makeup is very minimal, just enough to accentuate the true beauty of her mien.


It is clear she's put extra effort into her appearance today.


She's just finished taking the chicken piccata off of the stove, close to ready to pour the lemon sauce she'd made over it. John would be home any minute based on the bus schedule, but she had the oven warmed just in case he took longer than expected. While she waits, she cuts up thin lemon slices for garnish, just because.


Unlike a typical couple, they don't get to go out on typical dates, so she does what she can to make their time together special, whether it's just making dinner, picking out a movie to watch, or a game to play. She wants him to feel secure, knowing that they aren't drifting away from one another. No matter how hard things get, they're in this for the long haul together.


Letting the sauce simmer for another minute, Cassandra leans against the counter, arms crossed as she thinks and mumbles to herself, rehearsing words she knows will never come out exactly how she wants. Anxiety mounts in her as she thinks, a tightness in her chest and a drying lump in her throat. What if he doesn't like this? Or what if he doesn't want a year and a day? What if...? She does her best to push those thoughts away, concentrating on every time he's said 'I love you', concentrating on the warmth in his voice, that sparkle in his pools of abyss for eyes. Yes, things are fine. Things are fine even when her anxious, calculating mind wants to claw it from her. She won't let it.

[James Turner]

Minimalist was a polite way to describe most of how John lives. Second hand goods for a second hand life. He was late because the walk had taken extra time after he got stopped to talk to a homeless man and try and point him to treatment options before having to pull himself away so he could go do more work. He wanted to help, giving pieces of himself to people and there was exceedingly little of that left of late.

3 successes

Date	Action	Roll	Result
2021-10-07 19:04:12	James Turner rolls 7 to Lights on? (Wits + Perception) (10 Again)	4, 2, 10, 2, 10, 1, 6, 8, 1	3 successes

Why was the light on? He knew didn't leave the light on. His heart started racing in his chest, who was in his house? Act casually like nothing is wrong, instead of walking up to his house he kept on walking by pulling out his phone and making a single phone call To Cassandra first. When upon answering there was a soft, but calm tone. "I think there's been a break in. I'm gonna need a ride." He needed a confirmation and then he'd either wait and see what evidence was left behind or see if Circe was busy either way it meant he had to move. Thankfully he didn't have much to steal in the first place, no one was going to touch his books. The records were the real worry if it was just theft. The other thought...then he'd have to hide deep.

[Cassandra Reeding]

Cassandra is leaning up against the counter, staring at the clock on the stove almost absently, as if she could will time to move faster that way. She is running her fingers through her hair when she hears her phone buzzing on the counter.

It's John.

Her heart feels like it just lifts up with butterflies, but then her second instinct wonders why he'd be calling. There are many ideas that go through her mind in the span of about two seconds. Maybe he's heading to her place or maybe he just wants to chat? Maybe he needs something? She almost forgets in that moment that she is standing in his home when she grabs her phone, clicking to answer.

He starts speaking in this calm voice and his words almost go over her head. She's in mild panic mode. What does he mean someone's broken into his house? Of course she'd go and grab him, bring him home and keep him safe. It takes her a moment to remember where she is.

She's the intruder.

"I-oh god, I'm such an idiot." Her voice comes off slightly panicky, "I didn't even think about- but I- um, I'm sorry. It's me. I was trying to surprise you. I guess it worked... Are you outside?" She's already walking to the door to find him.

[James Turner]

John was strolling casually, not wanting to draw any more unwanted attention to himself as he kept his head down like that would help. A tree of decisions already working in his head as the idea formed.

1.) Get Circe
2,) Sweep and Clear
2A,) If Subject still in domicile, maim first.
2a.) In the Event of the subjects untimely demise, dispose of the body in the hedge.
2i.) Plant a Garden.
3.) Question


Then her words, those musical melodies cut through his panicked thinking, taking him about as long to register what she ha just told him. His pace slowing as he finished the last few steps forward before pivoting on his heels and walkin back and exactly the same pace he'd been walking before.


"Surprise." He chuckled softly into the phone, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Sort of? I wasn't about to go near and find out what was going on with those kind of sight lines. Not without the right backup at least. It's ok, really, but well...you know how much we like surprises. You usually tell people to look at the brighter side of things, assume the best right? This ones on me because I went straight to worst, call me jumpy. But I guess you can always call me distracting too..."


The last few words echoing as the door opened and shut with a click and then the thud of the deadbolt. He wanted to rush to her, to be with her, to hold her in his arms and just be there with her. But no, the ritual had to be completed, his burden had to be lifted first. Shoes off, bag down, briefcase tucked and then he was free. The burden of duty, of responsibility melting away from him as he could finally rest. He'd have to allow himself to rest first. He stood two steps into his living room and rocked back and forth on his heels, hands tucked into his pockets, hair behind his ears for once as the first thing he wanted to do was see her eyes and smile.

[Cassandra Reeding]

There is a sense of relief at his words. He's not upset with her, at least not enough for it to be mentioned. He even sounds kind of amused. Good. Amused is better than him hiding somewhere worried about whatever chaos could be going on in his home. All she wanted was for him to experience what it is like coming home to someone who loves him after a long day. Something she hopes can be a daily occurrence one day.


She lets out a slow breath and her heart quickens a little when she realizes he's about to be home. She can finally touch him again, see his smile again. Sometimes it feels like an eternity waiting in between when they see each other. She hears the door click open and she doesn't move straight away. Instead, she takes a moment to stand there and breathe, catch her bearings. He'll be with her in a moment and she's not going to rush it, even though every fiber of her being wants to.


Once she sees him walk into the living room, she slowly emerges from the kitchen, a large smile on her face. "Hey you." She says softly and her whole body itches to embrace him, feel the way his mantle entwines itself with hers, feel the touch of his cool skin against hers. She visibly brightens, her prismatic hues constantly shifting upon her skin. But there's something new about her, something different. There is a strengthening of her connection to the Wyrd and in return, it has granted her, much to her dismay, the eyes of her Keeper. Her once completely gem-like emerald eyes now glimmer with those same shifting polychromatic colors pf her skin. The green still acts as a base beneath, but that sparkle of shifting hues takes over. Perhaps she wears her heart on her sleeve even more so now.


"I've missed you. A lot." They saw each other when they got to speak with Gerrit, but things have been so sparse even before then. Finally, she allows herself to slowly walk to him, arms open. She's ready to feel complete again.

[James Turner]

Seeing her round the corner into the next room and start walking toward him was enough to take his breath away. A deep exhale as he let out some of the tension and worry he carried around with him for the day. His shoulders relaxing even as the tension lessens in his lower back. Unable to wait as he took the next few steps forward not leaving that itch unscratched for long. Wrapping his arms around her he pressed his lips to hers and just let himself take that moment, let himself find a little light in the dark.


He sighed as it ended , "Not the best with surprises. Sorry. I missed you too." His smile was bright, well as bright as could be for a Darkling. It took him a second to notice her eyes, thinking it was a trick of the light first but those keen eyes flashed recognition but nothing more after that. He really couldn't help but notice the smells next, he had to take one sniff, and then another. "Lemon and herbs. Must've went shopping, oh don't tell me you went in the fridge. I promise I was going to get actual food in a couple days when I had time."


His fridge lie mostly barren, a couple leftover containers of a questionable length of time, his water filtered water, and a couple shelves of assorted condiments. Sparse seemed to be the word for his life right now. Offering her a quick kiss on the cheek before stepping back with a soft smile, hand still holding hers. His eyes narrowed slightly, dinner, dress, the surprise, she was up-to-something. There were two leading theories his mind was working on and they tended to bisect along the way anyways. His face flushed gray as he shifted the topic to save himself. "Should we eat first? How late am I?"

[Cassandra Reeding]

Every time he kisses her, it is like a new sensation to explore, each one special in its own way. This one made a little shiver course down her spine, the sweetest chill making her realize just how much she's ached for this. He pulls back and she sighs contentedly, "I'd hoped this surprise wouldn't be too alarming, but I miscalculated. Should've just texted you right before you got home. I'm sorry for worrying you, love." She just smiles at him for a long moment, taking in his appearance and that bright smile. It made her want to kiss him again and again.


"Made some chicken piccata. Based on the fridge alone, I figure you probably haven't eaten much today," as such it is every day. He says he was going to go shopping, but hotdogs and mac n' cheese doesn't count as real food. It's hard for him though, given every day he likely feels closer and closer to a shadow. Still, he is still a man and he needs to eat. She notices the flush upon his face and a slightly curious look follows, but she doesn't ask. He's so quick to move the topic.


She squeezes his hand as they stand there together, "We can eat first. Just need to finish pouring the sauce. You aren't too late. I was figuring by the bus schedule and about the time you'd usually text me." Some nights he was later than others. She's thankful he's only a bit behind. Food isn't too cold and the sauce would warm it up just right. She gives his hand another squeeze and she walks him to the kitchen with her. If she didn't have to finish putting things together, she doesn't know that she would have let go.


Letting go of his hand then, she moves to finish putting together their plates. The scent of the food is somewhat intoxicating as the sweet and sharp smell of lemon permeates the air. She adds a little garnish of the lemon slices she'd worked on just before he came and when she's done, she hands him a plate.


It's in that moment that she didn't consider where to eat. He technically has a table they could eat at, but they usually eat on the futon. Which way to go? If she were to be all fancy with it, they could just sit together at the table, but it wouldn't allow her to lean against him or touch him in the way she wants. It's funny, before she'd come to Sacramento, she was the one who always insisted on sitting at the proper table. Then again, there was a child involved during those times. It changed everything.


She goes with her gut and heads over to the futon, setting her plate down on the coffee table. He'd probably be more comfortable here anyway, "Do you mind grabbing utensils, John?" She sits down and smiles up in his direction as she waits for him to join her. Now that they're finally together, she feels so much more comfortable and relieved. Things will fall into place just fine.

[James Turner]

The exhale after they kiss always left him a little lighter, less burdened, like a shot of energy that ran through his body. He'd been exhausted, ready to collapse in on himself and now he was just exhausted at least. He offered her a weak, tired smile, "I still appreciate the sentiment." He knew she had meant well but it was the place where he slept, where he had to be most vulnerable. It was one of the few places he didn't have to hide behind his mask.


"No, no. That sounds great, I haven't had a proper meal in ages." Unless you counted eggs from a greasy spoon that was always in the rotation. On his lucky days there was a fundraiser or an event and he got to take carry out home. The scent of the food alone was enough to make his stomach rumble. His thumb ran softly over the back of her hand, returning the squeeze as he'd follow her right into the kitchen. He wasn't about to let her do this alone.


It was worse once he got his plate into his hand, he couldn't stop himself from taking a deep inhale which only made him hungrier. His eyes closed in satisfaction as he felt her slide by him, with how she was dressed, what they were eating he figured they'd be eating at the table. He just kept smiling because she really was the best, it was the little things you noticed. He held up his fistful of fork and knives, "Got 'em, beverage preference?" Which for John meant coffee, tea, or water for the most part.


He'd grab drinks unless she had another surprise prepared, getting himself prepared like he always did, shifting his ashtray so it was in place, setting the pack down on top of it, lighter on top of that. Glass to the right, plate balanced in his lap for now as he didn't have any problems keeping still. He looked over, checked that Cassandra was ready to eat or already eating before starting in himself.


"So? What's the occasion?" He looked over at her, eyes narrowed a hint of half smile on his lips. He'd felt the words lapse, the oath end just as she might have. It was nice, the words were nice, but for him it was all about moments like these. The nights in, her proximity, the soft playfulness they enjoyed. He might not believe he deserved it but he was so lucky to have it.

[Cassandra Reeding]

"Just some water, thank you." It would go best with the food. Well, wine would probably be better, and she considered bringing some, but she'll admit that she'd rather be on the sober side tonight. Some things were just meant to be enjoyed with a clear mind. Some things, not all. He sits next to her, getting his ashtray and eventually his plate set. She lets out a soft sigh and can't help but lean against him, taking in the chill of his body for a moment before digging into her food. She's pleased with how it came out. Wasn't her best, but was far more than passable. She'd make just about anything for him if it would give him a little joy.


She sees his eyes narrow at her and she can't help but grin. She lets her utensils sit on her plate and she turns a little more toward him. "Occasion?" Her voice is playful, feigning obliviousness. There are more than a few things she wanted out of tonight, but they'd take those baby steps together. "Well, first and foremost, I thought it'd been a little too long since we had a nice little date night." The way they do dates. Staying in, eating a good meal together, taking time to enjoy each other's presence, and continuing to get to know new things about the other. She cared about every little detail, things that he liked, things that bothered him, little things he'd share about his life, and she'd share in return.


Her smile softens a little more as she looks at him, memorizing his features as if trying to ingrain every moment, every smile of his in her mind. And for some reason, this next part gives her the slightest hint of anxiety, her breath catching in her throat before she goes to say it. "I thought maybe we could consider renewing our oath?" If you want that too. Why does she worry so much about rejection here? They make a conscious choice every day to be together and perhaps that's more important than most Oaths they could make to each other, but there is something about the Wyrd recognizing and blessing their union. Maybe the anxiety is really because its easier to worry about the littler things to distract from the bigger ones. Not that this is little by any stretch of the imagination. Not with the length she'd like.

[James Turner]

He enjoyed the feeling of her next to him, her warmth, her weight, her presence. It didn’t feel like a burden to have around, like an intruder into his personal space. Not anymore, it had taken some time for him to get use to it, to get used to the touches. He still flinched away at times but now was not one of them, his response was to push a little of his weight back into her as a way of acknowledgement. No need for words, just contact and a soft smile on his lips.

He was in the middle of entirely cutting up his chicken when she began speaking, a piece popped casually into his mouth. When she casually referred to it as a date night, he screwed up his mouth and angled his head forward, so those black hungry voids looked right at her. He’d written his disbelief across his face to read. The surprise, the dinner, the dress? He wouldn’t complain, wouldn’t push he was just happy to have her here after a hard day. Just having her here was enough to help lighten his mood.

Then the oath is dropped, that was his original thought, and her question deserved his attention. So, he sat his utensils on the edge of the plate before sitting it down on the table. His body angled to face hers as well, his hands held out open in front of him for her to take if she desired. “I would love nothing more. I love you; I trust you. What were you thinking this time?” He stayed in that moment with her, close to her, not moving away. Everything inside him told him to run and hide, all the time, from everything pretty much. Right now that voice was dead silent.