PAPER TIGER| TWENTY FORTH HOUR
Thanks but no thanks, you’re not my type.
The very direct question from her brunette counterpart threw the Bastian, and her eyes widened as her cheeks turned a deep crimson, stumbling on her reply even with her liquid courage searing her veins. It was the question of the loose lipped, lubricated by whiskey and a natural Hoxian boldness. Still, Khy had grown up in Bastia and Anaxas. She might admit more to Drezda than she should have, but there was still an overhanging of self doubt and social shame.
“I uh…well not really…no? No. I didn’t have friends in Brunnhold Miss Ecks, and I don’t imagine throwing myself at clientele is appropriate or acceptable.” She found her feet again, scrabbling in the depths where the Hoxian had shoved her, trying to wrap her mind around this conversation. As though it was the most natural thing for two galdori women to be discussing. As Drezda explained things that Khy hadn’t ever truly thought about, the red head focused on not being overwhelmed by the inappropriateness of it all, distracted by the slip of a perfectly painted lower lip between perfectly white teeth, feeling a warmth in her belly from more than just the whiskey.
“My parents know nothing, at all. About anything. Then, to be fair, I wasn’t even sure it was something. I’m not even really sure now, you know? Gods, I don’t even know what they’d say. Mother, maybe, would be accepting on a certain level. Father though? He would call it a…childish infatuation. A fad for the younger generation.” Khy raised an eyebrow and sighed, watching the plume of steam escape on her breath as she contemplated the Hoxian’s bitter words.
”Men are expected to sow their wild oats, provided they don’t produce spawn out of wedlock then society just nods and laughs and jokes about it being just a gentleman’s thing. Women are meant to show restraint and delicacy, purity and grace. Alioe forbid we have such terrible thoughts like those menfolk.” The sarcasm dripped from her voice, another shy smile creeping onto her lips. She might not have shared her bed with either sex, but she knew her so called role in society.
Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to, little girl.
“It is rather crisp tonight, I’ll admit. I should have considered that before suggesting we take a walk. Perhaps we—oh?“ Khy paused her suggestion abruptly, her field pulsing slightly with a giddy rush of nervousness. Drezda, the powerful commanding Drezda Ecks, had just invited her to her home. For sane reasons, of course, but for a moment the red head felt a tingle up her spine and a rush in her chest.
It means literally nothing Khy, but perhaps there has been too much whiskey for this. Politely decline and go home before you make a complete fool of yourself.
“Sure, that sounds like a wise idea. I would have been walking in the dark otherwise, and if I’m being honest I’ve had such a poor day that I imagine I could very easily trip and knock myself out on the way. It wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest.” The Bastian drew a hand from her pocket and raised it in a gesture as though to say ‘lead the way’, all the while her smile in place. Of course, they were talking of things no proper ladies would discuss. Admitting things no proper lady would admit. All over a nightcap or two.
But the red head felt a warmth. Not of lustful attraction, but of a kinship. A sudden friendly voice in a sea of unfriendly. A confidant. She didn’t know Drezda enough, or at all really, to know that her perceived friendship might just actually dissipate when the drink wore of, but for a little while the auburn haired galdor could pretend like she had someone that liked her.
Someone who wasn’t there just for her artistry or her family name, a someone who she looked up to. Someone to take a page from, to grow bolder and firmer. To take life and shake it and say ‘it’s my turn.’
Someone like Drezda Ecks.