49th Zi'da 717
Charlie had switched to water as the night wound down. After dancing with Oliver, he had been pulled away with his duties, as the other nobles began to trickle out of the hall and into their carriages, or to the inns they were staying in in Bellesoir. He had to shake their hands, thank them for coming, take their final donations and play the gracious host. Charlie had watched him go with a fond smile, flitting in and out of conversations as people steadily left.
Caius and Darcy had already retreated for the night, or at least disappeared somewhere, and it made Charlie smile at how brazen the young couple were. Without a care in the world, not even betrothed, the two had made their feelings to one another known. Charlie admired their certainty and their love - of course it was love. Anyone looking at them could see that. Mostly, her heart warmed for Darcy. The girl deserved someone like Caius.
Charlie drained the last of her water, setting down the glass on the drinks table, where half-drunk and empty glasses were scattered across the tablecloth. A quick glance to the end of the hall saw Oliver farewelling a richly dressed pair. The room was almost, but not quite empty, and suddenly she realised - she had made no plans for the night.
It was presumptuous to stay the night. One dance and one evening of lovemaking did not a relationship make. With a sinking feeling, she realised the only proper thing to do would be to take her leave and head to an inn nearby. How she wanted to spend the night in Oliver's arms... Biting her lip, she waited for the other nobles to take their leave before she strode over to Oliver on aching feet, the result of a night in heels.
"My lord Venora," she murmured with a twinkle in her eye, curtseying slightly for appearances sake. She bit her lip as she looked at the handsome man. Seven, she wanted to kiss him - to claim him. But she could not do that. Not now. Not in front of everyone. It was too soon, and Oliver might be unsure.
"You should truly be proud of yourself, Oli," she murmured quietly enough that no one would hear the endearing nickname. "It's been a wonderful success, and you've worked so hard. It was a magical night." Not just for the soiree - but for that moment of being in Oliver's arms on the dance floor as Darcy played. Silence stretched between them for a moment, until Charlie spoke the words she truly did not want to.
"It's late," she said, regret in her voice. "I should take my leave. I'm sure you're exhausted." Her hand twitched. How she wanted to touch his cheek, to make him smile. "Thank you so much for having me here, Oli," she whispered.
Caius and Darcy had already retreated for the night, or at least disappeared somewhere, and it made Charlie smile at how brazen the young couple were. Without a care in the world, not even betrothed, the two had made their feelings to one another known. Charlie admired their certainty and their love - of course it was love. Anyone looking at them could see that. Mostly, her heart warmed for Darcy. The girl deserved someone like Caius.
Charlie drained the last of her water, setting down the glass on the drinks table, where half-drunk and empty glasses were scattered across the tablecloth. A quick glance to the end of the hall saw Oliver farewelling a richly dressed pair. The room was almost, but not quite empty, and suddenly she realised - she had made no plans for the night.
It was presumptuous to stay the night. One dance and one evening of lovemaking did not a relationship make. With a sinking feeling, she realised the only proper thing to do would be to take her leave and head to an inn nearby. How she wanted to spend the night in Oliver's arms... Biting her lip, she waited for the other nobles to take their leave before she strode over to Oliver on aching feet, the result of a night in heels.
"My lord Venora," she murmured with a twinkle in her eye, curtseying slightly for appearances sake. She bit her lip as she looked at the handsome man. Seven, she wanted to kiss him - to claim him. But she could not do that. Not now. Not in front of everyone. It was too soon, and Oliver might be unsure.
"You should truly be proud of yourself, Oli," she murmured quietly enough that no one would hear the endearing nickname. "It's been a wonderful success, and you've worked so hard. It was a magical night." Not just for the soiree - but for that moment of being in Oliver's arms on the dance floor as Darcy played. Silence stretched between them for a moment, until Charlie spoke the words she truly did not want to.
"It's late," she said, regret in her voice. "I should take my leave. I'm sure you're exhausted." Her hand twitched. How she wanted to touch his cheek, to make him smile. "Thank you so much for having me here, Oli," she whispered.
