Drezda’s Home, Uptown Vienda
Evidently, she was feeling rather more reckless now, at least if one chose to believe what was coming out of her mouth. The diplomat had been known to say things that she didn’t act on, empty threats and empty promises. It wasn’t clear if her flirtations were empty or not now, especially given that she had started this and seemed to be doing a good job of sustaining it.
Truthfully, Drezda didn’t know if she meant any of it. Niccolette was undeniably attractive and the way that the Hoxian allowed her eyes to subtly trace her form through the thin robe that she wore showed that she knew. The woman didn’t go out of her way to do it but when her eyes happened to be in that direction, she couldn’t help but caress curves and lines with her gaze, drinking in her appearance as appreciatively as she had consumed alcohol the previous night. She’d always been able to admire beautiful things but she’d also been able to do so from a distance for quite some time; it was less risky that way.
She wasn’t keeping a great deal of distance at the moment.
When the Bastian commented that she could try not to make a mess, the diplomat released an exaggerated sigh.
“Oh well, sometimes trying to prevent something is more effort than it’s worth,” she remarked wryly, contemplating her tea with the ghost of a smile on her lips, seeing her dark reflection on the liquid’s surface. However, she set her own beverage carefully aside while she prepared some for her guest, perhaps a little self-conscious in light of her blathering on about tea. There had been a surprising amount to be said and in truth, many people who’d had dealings with the Hoxian over the years might have been surprised to hear her wax lyrical on such a subject — on any subject. Speaking on such a matter suggested that she was having a moment of sentimentality in spite of the double meanings that underlied her words; it was a surprise to her to find that she had been being sentimental.
“You aren’t the only one who could use stimulation this morning,” Drezda remarked. What little tea she’d consumed had hardly had a chance to take proper effect but those initial sips had inflicted an assault on her senses that had certainly gone some of the way towards enlivening her. That being said, Niccolette probably wasn’t referring to that sort of stimulation. Probably. At this point, it wasn’t entirely clear if either of them was saying what she appeared and how much might be beneath the surface. Drezda’s words hadn’t been a vehicle for any alternative meanings this time.
The Bastian hadn’t asked for sugar — as was proper — but she hadn’t made any comment on the snowberry. That being said, she had implied that she trusted the Perceptive’s tastes and as far as she was concerned, having this sort of tea without snowberry would be as criminal as taking it with sugar. She added a small amount of the syrup to the beverage, enough to lace it with additional flavour rather than overpowering it. A brisk stir with the spoon dispersed the syrup more evenly and then she was passing it to her guest, the other’s fingers brushing briefly against her hand as the cup was transferred from one to the other. The contact made her skin tingle, the raven-haired woman resisting the urge to touch the area after the fact. Instead, she settled back, picking up her own tea but focusing on her companion instead of drinking it.
It was strange that she should almost hold her breath waiting for the other’s verdict as if whatever she said would have any real impact on her life. Yet it felt as if whatever the Living Conversationalist said would hold weight. It wasn’t really the tea that she was concerned with but how it might reflect on her homeland, on herself. She had recommended it after all, had spoken about it highly while in the depths of some longing for home. If Niccolette disliked it, it wouldn’t mean anything serious though. It wasn’t as if a dislike for Drezda’s preferred tea would prove that there was too much difference between the pair of them — an incompatibility.
Why should it matter? she asked herself, watching the other smile privately to herself as she inhaled the scent as if it carried familiarity for her, the sight of that unconscious smile quietly captivating.
You aren’t likely to see her after this, you don’t make friends and it isn’t as if the two of you will…
The thought trailed off unfinished but her pulse fluttered, eyelashes batting quickly as she wondered how much the idea of being with Niccolette might appeal to her. Enough for her to regret if nothing occurred between them?
Her teeth pressed delicately against her bottom lip, allowing them to scrape lightly across its surface as she considered the other and wondered. Watching the other take another sip, her field seemed to lighten somewhat, something within her relaxing. There had been no puckering of lips after her first sip and the second one boded well, so much so that she didn’t take her initial response as being a prelude to a negative opinion. In fact, she had suspected that it appealed to her in some way, even before those hazel eyes found her black ones, an answering smile already seated on her lips.
“I’m glad,” Drezda remarked warmly, voice breathless in a way that surprised her. Had she forgotten to breathe there for a few moments without noticing? No, it almost felt as if the air in the room had thinned somewhat, which obviously wasn’t the case although perhaps it was a bit stuffy in here.
“It is an acquired taste, yes, perhaps not that different from Hox and its people,” she added, the smile faltering and the light in her eyes dimming. The buoyancy that had existed in her field but a moment before drained away and left the mona slightly heavier in its wake, more down to Vita. “I can’t say that I appreciated it when I was younger but then… I didn’t appreciate a lot of things.”
She sipped her tea and let the familiar flavours wash over her tongue, grateful for its warmth and the way it invigorated her senses. She cradled her teacup with a melancholic sigh and retrieved her toast, taking a bite and chewing without much enthusiasm. Once her mouth was empty again, she made a quiet admittance, surprised to be sharing such a thing with a veritable stranger. It wasn’t the first time that she’d said more than she ought to a Bastian woman; perhaps there was something about them.
“I miss it, you know. Not all the time but… more than I let on. Hox — home,” she explained, gazing into her teacup once more. “It’s ironic really. When I’m there, it’s the last place that I want to be but when I’m away… well, Anaxas is far from being an ideal fit for me but then… neither is Hox.”
One shoulder rose and fell in a shrug. She was lonely here but equally lonely at home, she knew that. She knew that her loneliness was what made her glad for the Bastian’s company right now but she had done this to herself, imposed a form of self-isolation upon herself.
“Anaxi are too emotional for me and I’m too- I’ve become too Anaxi for Hox. I’m sure that you can tell although I don’t… I don’t know how many Hoxians you’ve interacted with in the past. I’m sure that you haven’t encountered many that will be cool towards you one moment and then begin flirting and getting sentimental about tea the next.”
Her mouth twisted into a sardonic smile as she took a jab at herself, dark eyes rising to her guest’s face again at last.
“I assure you that I’m always delightful company, this morning not excluded. Alas, I believe that this is actually an improvement on my usual demeanour, less, ah… stony.”
Yes, she was definitely more reckless this morning while sober. Well, presumably sober at any rate.