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Poppy Dashwood · January 2, 2023 – 7:56 AM

31 December 1892 - Sugarplum New Years Eve Gala, London (sometime shortly before midnight)

New Years Eve. How had a year passed already, so quickly? Poppy wasn’t sure how in the blink of an eye so much had changed without her even really realizing time was passing. She’d graduated, debuted, and nearly started courting a gentleman (or was hedging that way, she imagined?) all in the span of twelve months. This time last year she’d been… sneaking out after curfew into the Prewett’s gala. (Throwing her guts up into a bush as Atticus chided her.) Now, on this last evening of 1892, she was making pleasant chatter with society types she had real, respectable connections with, even made some friends. Not everything had changed however; Poppy had still spent a good portion of the night tucked into Juniper’s side scheming away and giggling as they swapped war stories of the past few months. (It had been some time since they’d caught up.)

(Now, as her champagne ran low and the girl felt a pleasant spinning in her head, she was determined to relive one experience from last New Years Eve she had not been able to shake all year.)

Setting aside her empty glass, Poppy smoothed the folds of her dress with a grin. This was one of her favorites, chosen specifically for this evening to make a statement. The fabric was a soft blue that hugged her curves. The off-shoulder neckline, Poppy’s favorite, had a shimmer to the lace that scooped around pretty little florals that decorated her décolletage. Only a slight enchantment had been placed upon the florals to encourage them to glimmer in the spirit of the festivities. (If they happened to attract attention, well, that was not her intention.)

Poppy didn’t know where Atticus had run off to, but having a chaperone much more interested in his future betrothed than his charge was quite convenient. Especially as she passed a searching glance over the crowd in the utterly fantastic candy-landed ballroom. Poppy was in the mood for mischief. Already a few champagne glasses in, and with midnight fast approaching, the brunette sought out one particular face. She knew he was here. She’d spotted him over the shoulder of one of her suitors earlier in the evening but hadn’t managed to make eye contact and plead for rescue… (Now that had been a terrible dance. Mr. Pouska had stepped on her toes the whole time!)

Ah-hah~ Hazel eyes glimmered as they landed on the very object of her fascination. Poppy wasn’t sure why, precisely, she’d decided this was the moment to seek out Kristoffer. She supposed she was ready for a relief from the chaos of the evening. He was… comfortable to her at this stage. A friendly face in the crowd. (A bit of a far cry from where they’d been this time last year.) Smiling to herself, the debutant selected a new glass of champagne off a passing tray and made her way over to the gentleman.

Bumping into him gently from behind, Poppy clicked her tongue. “Seven years of schooling and you still don’t know how to look where you’re going, Ms. Dashwood!” she mimicked in as deep a voice as she could manage without sounding ridiculous. To her credit, Poppy did not spill her drink all over either of them this time. Instead, she laughed her tinkly little laugh as she rounded to face the gentleman properly, mischief alight in hazel hues. Would he remember, she wondered?

Kristoffer Lestrange & muse song (babies, one year later!)

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Kristoffer Lestrange · January 2, 2023 – 9:08 PM

This was not his first choice of event – there was such a sweet smell in the air he fancied his insides were rotting even without tasting anything – but he would risk the nauseating scenery for a chance to see certain people he expected would have an invitation.

He wasn’t wrong, though it was late in the night by the time he did, and he felt her before he saw her. Someone had bumped right into him, and as he turned to glare, he heard her. And her ridiculous quip, in the ridiculous tone of voice, and all his irritation vanished without a trace as instead he nearly snorted out his last sip of champagne. Of course he remembered that night – but it warmed him to think that she had, and indeed, that any sense of resentment he’d once felt about the way it had gone had long since been buried by – other feelings. He didn’t resent a single thing about her now (except perhaps the taint of her family’s blood, which she couldn’t help, and which he preferred to forget, most of the time).

So Kris just grinned a lopsided grin at her instead, and raised his champagne in a mock-toast. “No coordination whatsoever, see.” He shook his head at her, quite sure she had planned that perfectly. “But, if you like, I will add ‘faultless imitations’ to your list of qualities,” he offered in jest – because if that was an impression of him, it was terrible.

Poppy Dashwood · January 2, 2023 – 11:27 PM

Kristoffer’s response was even better than Poppy could have hoped for. She laughed her twinkly little laugh, this time making no effort whatsoever to cover her mouth, as she snickered at him nearly spitting his champagne. How ungentlemanly, she thought to herself in amusement. Then, with a small scoff and playful roll of her eyes, the brunette gave him a flourish. “My imitations are faultless,” she retorted. “And my coordination has proven quite perfect as well, sir! I’ve never once stepped on your toes in a dance but I can certainly start.” Then, with a playful little glimmer, Poppy took another sip of her champagne.

She was in a good mood this evening. With the end of 1892 there was only hope and promise looming in 1893 and now that she’d found Kristoffer, there wasn’t much else Poppy needed to ring in the new year. “Can you believe it’s been a year already since that evening?” she asked, a hint of incredulity in her tone. Perhaps it was silly to bring the topic up, considering what all had transpired that evening, but Poppy couldn’t help herself. It was a marked date in her memory, for many reasons. “It feels like so much has changed, and yet really nothing at all,” the girl trilled. Her voice had taken a soft, affected little lilt as she considered.

A lot had certainly changed, but between them, very little (other than the growing, festering sentiment in her chest every time she saw him.) They’d managed to remain friends after all however, and that to Poppy was a resounding success to be celebrated. Sentimentality, then, colored her expression as she sighed a little wistfully to herself.

Kristoffer Lestrange & muse song

Kristoffer Lestrange · February 7, 2023 – 9:14 PM

From his perspective, it felt like a lot had changed. Not with him – well, not outwardly with him, or his circumstances; though perhaps something had shifted, just slightly, internally – but Poppy was very different. Maybe not internally in her case, but externally at least. Because a year ago she had still been an exuberant schoolgirl, brazen and bashful at once; now, it was almost impossible to see her as anything else but the perfect debutante, an elegant young lady, with all the airs and graces and blossoming confidence of a woman who had the whole world at her feet and yet demurely kept that knowledge to herself, like the thrill of a secret in her chest.

She was that flourishing young woman now, merry and vivacious, more sparkling and bubbly than all the champagne in the room. But, for some reason, Poppy Dashwood had still sought him out. She seemed, for want of a better word, to – like him. Unaffectedly. (“And why wouldn’t she? Why wouldn’t anyone?” might be his gut instinct there, a well-trod defence, but it was still nice not to need it, once in a while.)

“Start stepping on my toes and I’ll be forced to add vengeful to the list of your flaws,” Kristoffer replied, just as playfully, just as lacking in bite. After he’d observed her thoughtful expression and little sigh, he added, “As long as tonight doesn’t end the same way as last year, I suppose I won’t complain.” The slap, he meant. He knew they had agreed to forget the slap and the kiss that had earned it, both, but it would be senseless to think it had ever sincerely slipped his mind. Not many acquaintances started out such. That wasn’t the reason he remembered it so well, but it was his excuse.

“There is something different about this evening, though,” Kris added, trying to distract himself from thinking back to then by eyeing the other guests in the room. “Don’t you think a few people are being – weird?” There was some rather forward flirting going on just over in their earshot that was enough to make his expression twist up in light disgust – and there was a married man who looked like he was going to be slapped sooner or later, too. (Well. Rather him than Kris.)

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Poppy Dashwood · February 11, 2023 – 10:14 PM

Poppy wrinkled her nose delicately as Kristoffer parried back and the smile that stole across her face was telling. It was so easy, this comfortable banter they shared. He was the only gentleman in this room that didn’t make her second guess herself, even when he was snapping his jaws playfully at her ego. She had opened her mouth to retort in kind when he suddenly mentioned their exchange from last year and Poppy snapped her teeth shut with an audible click.

For a moment, a brilliant blush painted itself across her face highlighting every inch of the girl’s fair skin. She hadn’t expected him to bring up their little altercation in so many words, and the sentiment behind it settled uncomfortably in her gut. (It shouldn’t bother her the insinuation that he did not want to kiss her again, but Poppy couldn’t help the sneaking suspicion that it did.) Trying to breezily press the thought aside however, she scoffed. “Well I certainly won’t be the one taking undue liberties with unsuspecting soon-to-be debutants,” she teased, cheeks still warm.

Turning her gaze across the room then, and reaching for the fan tucked gingerly in her pocket, Poppy appraised the guests as Kristoffer commented upon their behavior. She nodded, unable to help thinking back to the rather bizarre exchange she’d had with Mr. Dempsey earlier. (If that too made her cheeks heat even more, Poppy pressed the thought aside.) She flipped her fan open then with more force than was necessary and began to flutter it as unaffectedly as possible. The soft breeze was a godsend.

“It has been a rather interesting night,” she agreed. “I’ve had some peculiar exchanges myself but nothing I can quite put my finger upon.” she turned to offer Kristoffer a mischievous smile. “Perhaps the ton is merely celebrating the end of the year with a a more blasé, relaxed outlook on life? Very Parisian, very chic.” She laughed then.

Kristoffer Lestrange & muse song

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Kristoffer Lestrange · April 1, 2023 – 4:42 PM

He didn’t miss the vivid flush on her face, although he didn’t know exactly what to make of it. The lingering mortification of it, maybe – never mind that of the two of them, he was the one with supposed cause to regret his actions. She had behaved appropriately. (Well, mostly.) “Oh, I’ve evolved from soon-to-be debutantes this year,” he countered with fake carelessness, in a low conspiratorial tone of confidence. “If I take any liberties, it’ll be with an actual debutante, thank you.” His tone was breezy, as if it were a joke – but there was a twist of something inside at saying it, like he knew he was playing with fire. One the one hand, maybe he wanted to make her jealous (would she even be jealous?), to seem interested in finding a young lady with fewer scruples than she had tonight; on the other, he wasn’t the only one who had grown up this year, and if he had his eye on any debutante here, it was...

Poppy was fanning herself now, and had flipped open her fan so suddenly that he blinked, suspicious. Rather interesting and peculiar exchanges didn’t say much – and had she been blushing? Had someone else been making her blush? (If his blood was boiling inside, Kris tried to keep his cool on the outside.)

“Is that so?” He asked, with an eyebrow raised. “Well, better enjoy it while you can,” Kris said, of Poppy’s mention of Parisian chic, some oddly relaxed air in the place. “But I can’t see 1893 society being any different, so I doubt it’ll last. I think he’s looking at you –” he added abruptly, of some curly-haired idiot across the room, narrowing his eyes. Not that people weren’t allowed to look at Poppy, but there was something uncomfortably wistful and ardent and imploring in that expression that rubbed him the wrong way. Hoping she didn’t notice this ploy, he shifted in front of Poppy better as if to block her from anyone else’s view.

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Poppy Dashwood · April 1, 2023 – 5:34 PM

Even though Poppy knew he was joking from the way his voice lilted and his expression seemed to attempt to provoke her, she couldn’t help the nose wrinkle that very poignantly took over her visage. The notion of Kristoffer taking liberties with anyone sat sharply in the space between her ribs and her heart. Poppy tried to tell herself it was because he was better than that, and that he was more of a gentleman than he gave himself leeway to be but… Deep down she was annoyed that one day he might find someone to spend the rest of his life with and that in the interim he would have his fun. It was selfish and petulant to begrudge him that but, for a multitude of reasons, Poppy did. Most notably that she had to share any capacity of Kristoffer Lestrange at all. Hmph.

Turning her delicate nose wrinkle away from him, Poppy tried to school her features and think of something witty to say. Nothing particularly polite occurred so she let the moment pass.

They shifted onto the topic of the ton and she continued to fan herself as the warmth on her cheeks bloomed. She didn’t want to detail her earlier exchange with Mr. Dempsey to Kristoffer, but his response to ‘enjoy it’ certainly made her think about everything. (She could have been off in Paris right now, ringing in the New Year in an entirely different fashion if her caprice and Mr. Dempsey’s planning had allowed. Oh how dreadfully exciting. She really ought not think too much about it!) Distracted suddenly from her thoughts by Kristoffer’s mention, Poppy turned, still warm and with one curl slipping delicately over her shoulder from where it had fallen out of her up-do. Ah, speak of the very devil.

A small, sheepish laugh escaped the brunette as she fanned herself a touch more quickly. “Ah yes, Mr. Dempsey is a dear friend,” she replied offhandedly. Before being able to make eye contact and nod in the gentleman’s direction politely, Kristoffer shifted his position to block their view. How curiously amusing. Poppy couldn’t help but grin. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Mr. Lestrange,” she teased coquettishly. The glimmer of mischief in her expression unfurled and Poppy couldn’t help but close her fan momentarily. She would have liked for him to be jealous. It meant more than it ought to…

Something softened in her expression then as she appraised Kristoffer more closely. Her voice quieted and Poppy had to resist the urge to press a small hand against his chest. “Don’t worry, you are the only friend I wish to ring in the New Year with,” she said gently. Then, lifting her bare shoulder in a half teasing shrug, she laughed again. “We can make a tradition of it. From now until one or both of us are married, we’ll make every effort to spend December 31st together.” Perhaps this way, she could limit how much she had to share him… for one single night each year.

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Kristoffer Lestrange · April 1, 2023 – 7:36 PM

Her nose wrinkled. Kristoffer felt a subtle thrill of triumph, because that meant it had worked, maybe that comment had annoyed her for the reasons he hoped –

But the glee didn’t last, because not two moments later she had managed to turn what he was thinking against him. Don’t tell me you’re jealous, she had said, and worse, she was right, he’d all but exposed himself – so, pitying the fact that he couldn’t time-turner back to a few seconds earlier, Kris changed tack. He barked a low humourless laugh instead, and drawled, mostly rhetorically: “Jealous? Jealous of what?”

Despite the joke, he did eye Poppy a little more closely, as covertly as he could, newly wondering. Did he have some need to be jealous? Back at her debut, he hadn’t been so worried and had already felt that sting when she was spending time with other people, other men – but as time went on and her prospects inevitably grew more serious, Kris realised that aggravation was only doomed to get worse.

It was as if she’d seen the fear in him – or maybe she felt a twinge of it too? – but something in her seemed to surrender. When she continued it was in an altered tone, her usual sincerity. He didn’t miss the statement of marriage; felt sure the knife was turning in her a little too; didn’t know what to with that information, if he was right; but he grinned indolently at her proposition all the same. “That’s a deal, Miss Dashwood.” He stretched out a hand for her to shake, not about to say anything crass or stupid and see her renege on the idea. No, this was serious, and if he felt a little possessive of her company, well, sue him. Her dear friends needed to stop staring. Maybe they should go find some fresh air, or some quiet in the hallway, or a nice balcony from which to watch the night sky and dance like they once had (and, selfishly, avoid being interrupted by anyone else’s unwanted company.) On that note, Kris offered his arm to her next. “Walk with me?”

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Poppy Dashwood · April 1, 2023 – 8:33 PM

Poppy had decided early on in her… friendship with Kristoffer that the best tactic for his rude moments was just to ignore them, to smooth ruffled feathers if she could and change directions. He only seemed to retort her in such a way when he wanted to deflect and she was clever enough to know that fighting fire with fire was no way to win a war. (Not that this was a battle, or that she had any long term strategy other than to stay by his side as long as she was able.) So, with a soft huff she made no further comment on his bark of insincere laughter and instead pressed on.

How marvelous! They had a deal. Face lighting up, Poppy accepted the gentleman’s offered arm without a single hesitation. “Excellent,” she responded, keenly. Both of her hands had come up to accept his offering, one tucked under as was customary but the other also settling overtop the way she sometimes held to Atticus. It was an unconscious way of bringing them closer, even as her fan dangled from her mostly free hand.

“It’s almost midnight,” Poppy observed then. She was curious if Kristoffer had some notion in mind of where to go to mark the moment, or if he was just keen on getting some fresh air. The atmosphere in the main ballroom had become rather asphyxiating as the hum and buzz of anticipation for the new year built. “Do you follow any particular New Years traditions?” She asked, curiously. It was too bad he was blonde… She might have enticed Aunt Viola to ask him for tea tomorrow as their first lucky visitor of the new year.

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Kristoffer Lestrange · May 14, 2023 – 3:58 PM

They were talking about traditions. Poppy had just dreamt up a new one – one just for them, a promise to spend a little time together until one of them married. It was as depressing as it was endearing, and both feelings churned in his gut simultaneously. Their time together – on New Year’s Eve, and perhaps in general, free and easy, like this – already had an expiration date. She would be married sooner rather than later. He supposed so would he.

He had led her down the hallway without much thinking about where they were going, besides away from everyone else, and he glanced from the clock in the hallway to a pair of large windowed French doors at the end of the hall that looked like they opened onto a balcony. Well, it looked deserted enough. Not that he had any purposes – but if this was his chance for her company, he certainly wasn’t about to share it with any other friends of hers.

“You mean like singing Auld Lang Syne in a stupid circle or giving people presents or thinking about the future?” Kris scoffed, because he would be doing none of the above if he could help it. He didn’t care to think about the future, didn’t care to be merry and jovial, had no mind for stupid superstitions and hadn’t planned ahead far enough to have any New Year’s gifts to offer Poppy for good fortune.

He shot her a look, narrow-eyed and mocking at first to express what he thought of that question, but it faded to general curiosity in spite of himself. (The annoying fact was that he wanted to know what Poppy thought of things. Of anything. He – was just interested in her.) “Tell me you don’t.” His gaze flickered back over his shoulder to the grandfather clock just behind them, and then back to her with an eyebrow arched, outwardly long-suffering and internally fond. “What exactly would you have us do to mark the occasion?”

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Poppy Dashwood · May 28, 2023 – 6:01 PM

Poppy could have laughed at Kristoffer’s disdain for traditions. She hadn’t really expected him to be keen, but curiosity about him outweighed practicality. Poppy wanted to know everything there was to know about the handsome blonde, despite herself, but she knew better than to pepper him with her endless questions. Instead, she tried to gradually slip in one here or one there. This time, an amused little chuckle managed to escape as he scoffed, fond even though she shouldn’t be.

Poppy had grown accustomed over the past year to Kristoffer’s reactions. Where once they might have offended her in the wrong context, now she found them amusing or perhaps even a challenge when he was being a brat. She didn’t always know why his reactions were the way they were, but by now she knew enough to realize that he was a decent sort, and did not hesitate to often give him the benefit of the doubt. It helped that she was growing more and more keen, every little flutter in her chest at his perhaps unintentional sweetness confirming what she already believed.

They came to a halt on a balcony just off the hallway that overlooked the very gardens she’d meandered earlier. Loathe to release him but knowing it would be weird if she didn’t, Poppy dropped her hold on Mr. Lestrange gently. Her fingers brushed against his sleeve and the brunette resisted an urge to take him by the hand. Poppy had always been a tactile creature, one who best expressed her sentiments (and sometimes failings) through touch. She knew she had no right to express anything here and now however, so she kept her hands to herself and looked up into those deep blue eyes.

Another laugh bubbled forth, contradicting Kristoffer as if on instinct. “Of course I do!” She replied easily. How could he expect her to not? “My extended family is rather close, and we spend a lot of time over the holiday season sharing in one another’s company.” Poppy smiled as she said this. “My cousins and I have always enacted certain traditions amongst ourselves, mostly to best one another. Last year we forced poor darling Atticus to eat a New Years pie (#8) made of atrocious animal remnants in the spirit of ‘prosperity for the New Year!’” The brunette laughed again, this time more fully, and moved a hand to cover her mouth. “He was revolted but look, now he finds himself seriously courting, so it must have worked!” Another laugh, this time more akin to a snicker.

“Aunt Viola on the other hand is more keen on New Years Day traditions, so tomorrow we will be very particular on who we let over the threshold first,” Poppy rolled her eyes playfully, not thinking at all that he might wonder why she was spending New Years Day with her aunt and cousins rather than her immediate family. “As for me, I merely plan to wear a new dress tomorrow in an attempt to leave behind any lingering hardships from 1892,” Poppy finished with a small smile. She couldn’t help that her thoughts immediately skipped to this being one of those hardships. She had no intention of leaving anything behind however. If anything, Poppy hoped to grow closer with Mr. Lestrange this next year, even if it killed her inside.

She didn’t have any particular ideas as to how to mark the occasion this evening however. One glance over Kristoffer’s shoulder told her that the last minutes of 1892 were upon them and suddenly Poppy felt at a loss. For some reason there was only one tradition that she could recall for midnight and it crowded out all rationality. Poppy was unaware as her gaze flickered to Kristoffer’s mouth and back up again, too caught up in her own thoughts to notice. A warm blush settled on the tops of her cheeks nonetheless. How silly! She had no reason to think of such things. Tearing her gaze away and looking out over the gardens, Poppy tried for nonchalant lift of her shoulder in a half shrug. Words were lost to her as she tried to force out anything that wasn’t a stutter. “I don’t know,” she finally admitted, voice quieter than before. “Traditions are rather silly things, aren’t they?”

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Kristoffer Lestrange · June 16, 2023 – 8:29 PM

He wished she hadn’t let go of him, but what else could he have expected? He tried to shove down the feeling as she described her New Year’s with family – tried to imagine that picturesque scene transplanted into a house with any of the Lestranges. Maybe his sisters – but even then, there was nary a day that didn’t descend into some kind of bickering or worse. And even when the Lestranges were having a good time, ostensibly, there was always something. Uncle Lucius’ shadow looming; Antigone lurking; something stilted and suffocating in the air. Kris couldn’t imagine any of the cousins being made to eat a New Year’s Pie – not in a loving way, anyway.

But he couldn’t be bitter only, because Poppy was so divinely at ease describing it all that he couldn’t help but feel the urge to smile at her. She was – infuriatingly lovely. Kris had thought by now he would have found something to despise about her, but nothing did change his opinion of her. She had rebuffed him; insulted him; danced with him; teased him relentlessly, and nothing she ever did made him like her any less. She was a halfblood. That was all he hated about her, and that was nothing she’d done herself.

Maybe Kris just hated how Poppy had decided to be his friend, and diligently kept that promise no matter what he did or said in turn: and it seemed entirely impossible to ruin that because she was just so obstinately determined. Who did that? Who on earth had the nerve?

Maybe Kris was suddenly, recklessly determined to ruin it.

“Absolutely asinine, all of them,” he agreed, and put his hand to her chin to turn her gaze back from the gardens, back to where it had lingered a moment ago. He didn’t ask; didn’t care how badly it went; didn’t really think about it at all – just surged forwards into her space and pressed his mouth, hard, to hers.

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Poppy Dashwood · June 17, 2023 – 4:20 AM

Poppy didn’t know if she was antsy because they were alone or because midnight was fast approaching, but she’d never felt the blood sing under her skin quite like this before. She’d been alone with Kristoffer plenty of times in the past year, each of them a comfortable (if slightly pining) exchange, but this was different. Tonight, in this moment, it was all she could do not to think about the last New Years Eve they’d shared and the subsequent liberty that had been taken. It was silly, really. They’d come so far since then, hadn’t they?

Biting her lower lip as hazel eyes gazed out over the garden, Poppy didn’t notice Kristoffer’s hand move towards her face until his fingers gently turned her head. Her heart skipped a beat, gaze locked onto his. In an instant she all but knew what was to come next and did absolutely nothing to stop it.

A soft sound of protest muffled into the space between them as Kristoffer surged forward with a bit more force than the brunette had expected. Delicate hands floated up instinctively and landed on his forearms, holding the blonde in place. Poppy didn’t know if she wanted to push him away or keep him close. She could have easily shoved him off if she’d been so inclined - there was no question at all in her mind if Kristoffer would force himself on her if she made her discomfort known, naive or not - but she didn’t. Push him away that is. In fact, her fingers curled into the fabric of his coat with an urgency Poppy didn’t even recognize. Every fibre of her being seemed to cry out that yes, this was exactly as it should be.

When they broke for air, sense or comprehension seemed to be the furthest thing from the brunette’s mind. Poppy didn’t let go, and neither had she any inclination to do so. There was something to say on the tip of her tongue but somehow, she wasn’t sure she knew what it was. It seemed almost like Kristoffer had stolen her thought entirely and swallowed it whole. A peculiar little scene from a muggle play she couldn’t name floated through Poppy’s mind then. Move not, while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged. / Then have my lips the sin that they have took!

Goosebumps crawled over bare skin, heart pounding away in the girl’s chest. Poppy hesitated for only a moment before deciding that this was going to end one of two ways: either they parted as friends again, laughing off the scandal as mere tradition, or, they would quarrel. Either way, she was sure this was the only opportunity she would have, possibly ever, and so decided on a whim to jump, head first, eyes closed. It had been a long time coming; her goody two shoes behavior could only last so long before the hellion inevitably took a misstep. So, with a mischievous glint flashing through hazel hues and a small grin stretching across her face, Poppy dipped forward to kiss Kristoffer again. Gently, sweetly, and with all the grace in the world. If her tongue swiped against the bottom of his lower lip in a way it really shouldn’t have known how to do, well, that was Poppy’s own business for the moment, thank you.

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Kristoffer Lestrange · July 5, 2023 – 10:43 PM

If tradition had been his loose excuse for daring to kiss her, it wasn’t much use for long, because it did not much resemble a New Year’s affectation. And if he had hoped to ruin this, to recklessly tear apart their friendship, it did not go the way he expected.

Her hands had come up to clasp him by the arms, and Kris was almost tensed and ready for her rebuff. Any moment now, Poppy would push him back, and that was the only taste of her he would get, anger turned to passion to greed and about to be foiled, any – moment –

It didn’t come. The kiss didn’t end there. Kristoffer had entered a strange delirium, where she was pulling him closer and kissing him back, and he couldn’t reason it away; all he could do was exist in it, in this elaborate delusion. Everyone had seemed strange and annoying and deluded tonight, but Kristoffer could have sworn he’d had a clear head – and Poppy had seemed perfectly herself, too. They had both felt quite sane.

As they broke apart, he felt wild. Insane. Deranged. He looked at Poppy, who looked just as wild as he felt. She said nothing, and Kristoffer couldn’t manage anything either, his mouth too stung with what he – they – had just done to excuse it. The clock had struck twelve. He waited, still gazing at her, for the other shoe to drop.

But she just grinned and leant forwards again, and the air had been knocked out of his chest and he felt a surge of want again and he made a sound against her mouth, a little moan of disbelief. She was still holding onto him, but he wanted to be closer, so he snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her better up against him. “No slap this time?” he breathed, recovering himself for a brief moment; but he couldn’t quite manage the same mischievous glint in his eyes as she had. This was all a joke to her, maybe, a gleeful little fun, but there was a seriousness stirred up in him, an urgency he rarely felt about anything. She didn’t know, and he couldn’t tell her – but he could keep kissing her, he supposed, and hope it drowned the feeling out.

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Poppy Dashwood · July 6, 2023 – 3:42 AM

Poppy was sure she’d lost her mind somewhere on the other side of the balcony, dangling by a thin thread over the garden. Alongside it hung prudence, propriety, and any care she might have for her reputation. There was nothing in her head except a swelling feeling, half resignation that she was doomed and half a terrifying hope for… something. Something she couldn’t quite place. Why was it that despite how improper and reckless this was, she felt safer here and now with Kristoffer than she had all evening?

There was nothing in what Poppy knew of the blonde that assured her she was safe from teasing or cruel manipulation. She knew whatever friendship had built up over this past year was undefined, dangerous even. But there was something about it that just struck her differently. Almost as if perhaps she had managed to scratch the surface and burrow someplace behind the charade that Kristoffer put up for the world. Poppy didn’t know what all was back there he might be hiding from, but she hoped at least her attempt to shelter away from the world there with him would not find her tossed out on her rear and battling some tremendous stain on her reputation. They were alike in more ways than she dared to tell him.

Perhaps it was because of this realization that Poppy trusted Kristoffer Lestrange. Perhaps not.

Whatever the reason, she grinned into the surprised little noise he made as she tipped forward. It was nice being the one to catch him off guard for once. Arms wrapped around her waist, tugging closer, and Poppy leaned forward willingly. She was utterly breathless as they finally pulled apart, face flushed red from excitement. Unbeknownst to the brunette a soft, smitten little look had chased away the mischievous grin from before. No slap this time, she agreed to herself quietly.

Before Poppy could help it, a hand had fluttered up to brush back blonde hair that had in no way fallen into Kristoffer’s face. (It was softer than she’d imagined.) The feel of him pressed against her sent a shiver up and down her spine however. Cold digits lingered against his cheek, featherlight against warm skin. It was a moment that didn’t deserve to end but had to before she pressed the envelop too far. Already she could feel the inner hellion licking against her skin, threatening to surge forward and take all advantage of a thrilling situation.

A small laugh suddenly bubbled up as Poppy was busy memorizing every shade of blue behind that endlessly perfect gaze. How ironic that she was the one not to be trusted rather than Mr. Lestrange, king of rakish infamy and doing as he pleased.

Her hand fell away then, albeit reluctantly, and Poppy bit her lower lip as another grin threatened to steal across her face. She almost wished she could admit to her beast aloud. Perhaps he might even understand. Instead, she leaned a hair closer to whisper conspiratorially, lips brushing just against his: “Happy New Years, Kristoffer Lestrange.”

Kristoffer Lestrange & muse song

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Kristoffer Lestrange

Kristoffer Lestrange · August 26, 2023 – 12:12 AM

He could stay here all night and not complain. They couldn’t, he knew that. But the temptation was there. He could whisk her away somewhere – they might be able to duck out and no one notice.

But it wasn’t worth the risk of ruining her life, so maybe he should settle for this, her hand tracing a strand of his hair and her lips ghosting against his in a way he felt powerless to resist.

And it was almost enough. He could try and be a good person for once, and make this be enough for him.

“...I think it’ll be one,” Kris said, a happy new year, with a smile he didn’t think he’d ever had cause to smile before. Because there wasn’t any bitterness in it, no smug pretension, no – anything. He wasn’t trying to be something. Just bare feeling, and he didn’t care if she saw it. He didn’t care if she knew him. He liked her. He liked her a lot. She – made him happy. He still didn’t know how to tell her that. He hoped she knew. “Poppy.”

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