August 6th, 1892 - Fruit Ball, Wellingtonshire

Cassian wasn’t much one for balls, much less stupidly themed ones well-attended by work colleagues. The man felt burnt out from the overtime hours they were all clocking as it was, with all these murders, and so was everyone else. The result of playtime in this climate meant only one thing once the men were all turned loose: they went too far into their party antics to cope. This was true even of Maxime, who with his guard down like the rest of them, didn’t notice the faintest magical sense of intrigue and chicanery in the fruit all around them. Cass assumed that any well-attuned wizard, especially the old purebloods, could notice if they took a mindful moment. Which, of course, the asshat Frenchman did not.

The apples were easy enough to spot for their ability to make one’s senses even more laggard, a socially-lethal combination with the fancy cocktails their American bartender was serving. The peaches, though, he couldn’t figure out. The circle of ministry men he’d been with all received one, the first red flag. He’d been toying with it idly until Maxime plucked it straight from his hands and tested the fruit out for him.

And proceeded to transform into a small child.

Said child-Maxime was no less a tyrant, and stood out in the corridor now. With a twinge of a satisfied smile, Cass considered how he was probably still fuming out the ears that he had neither the will or ability, he swears, to change him back. So the Frenchman hid like a baby, and the blonde sauntered back into the ballroom on the premise that he might find a remedy. Though his eyes landed on a woman in a grape dress getting openly fondled by a short man dressed like a bloody aubrigene (that’s not a fruit is it?); quick validation of his doubt that there was anyone left sober enough to have an actual remedy. Odds were high they needed to relocate Maxime to his house, at least until the jinx wore off.

Deciding that he may as well get a drink to numb the pain, Cassian made his way over to the bartender he spoke friendly with throughout the night. The man quickly served him up the cocktail Cassian tried for the first time earlier – a Manhattan, he called it – and there, suddenly at the bar beside him, Cass caught the gaze of the person he’d been hoping to see all night.

Discreetly, he sucked in a breath. My fucking luck, he thought grimmly, noting this would likely need to be another short exchange, far too quick to really count. Internally, he cursed Maxime to hell five times over.

Externally, “Miss Dashwood,” he greeted the young lady with a poised smile and a soft bow. “What a pleasure to see you again. Are you enjoying the party?” As much a polite question as a careful assessment to see if the young lady had gone through the evening unscatched by less-than-noble intentions.

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Poppy Dashwood

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eyecandy by fox<3

It had only been twenty-four hours since Poppy received the news of Owen Beauregard’s death and yet here she was, in society, trying to pretend everything was as normal as it had been precisely two days ago. Two days ago, she’d been exuberant - elated even - at the prospect of seeing her friends again and chattering until the sunrise at her first themed ball this season! Two days ago, she’d been buzzing off the excitement of all the lovely gentlemen she’d been interacting with as of late. None had really popped off the page, save for he-who-she-must-not-think-of and one Mr. Cassian Valenduris, but nonetheless she’d been excited at the prospect of seeing one or both of them. (Or Mr. Dempsey! One could not forget his wonderful, kindred spirit!) Two days ago Poppy had been all smiles and nervous energy. Today…

Today the brunette found herself wanting. She was exhausted, having cried most of the evening, and her glimmer was far less bright than usual. Poppy hadn’t even been bothered enough to make the vines all along her dress dance that morning as the weight of Owen’s death tugged at her heartstrings. The thought was asphyxiating enough without needing ivy wrapped around her torso and chest squeezing all life out of her small frame.

The dress was rather menacing in the wrong light and, without Poppy’s usual, bubbly little laugh, perhaps even a bit seductive with the subtle implication that the vines reached across her skirt, bosom and shoulders in a way no man ever could. At least it had a black foundation; she couldn’t have borne to wear anything but black today, even if she had no real right. Owen hadn’t been… anything, really, to her and here she was practically mourning him anyway. The little black pearls that had been sewn in along the vines to resemble grapes brushed against her bare arm and Poppy stepped up delicately to the bar. She hadn’t seen Atticus for eons and she didn’t need any gentleman to fetch her drink this evening. It wouldn’t have been fair, considering her attention was anywhere else, and… frankly, she’d toed past the line of genial sobriety an hour ago.

It was a surprise then as she was addressed and Poppy turned dulled, almost unseeing eyes to the gentleman beside her. She was startled to find Mr. Valenduris and wondered, idly, if she ought to disengage. Make an excuse that someone was waiting for her. She knew better than to think she was fit for polite, non-familial company in her given state but… Aunt Viola had gone off to the restroom and Atticus… was lost. Poppy was so tired of putting on a friendly face and pretending everything was alright… She was lonely, and exhausted and she could use a handsome face to distract her, she supposed.

“Mr. Valenduris,” the brunette replied, gently. “The pleasure is mine.” If she turned her pathetic gaze to glance openly into his blue one, that was her own business. “It’s been a long night,” the girl admitted, guardedly, in response. Over the side of the bar, she was handed a drink - fire whiskey, just as she’d asked - and accepted it with little fanfare. “And yourself?” The question was mere politeness, as Poppy found she didn’t honestly care to hear how he was finding this tiresome event. She’d had such high hopes for it too!

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Cassian Valenduris

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© Fox

With men like Maxime running around, Cassian thought he was justified in his concern. Although he was startled to find a dim reflection of the young woman that previously struck him like the brightest white flame. It was less a look of discomfort, anger, or even fear that clouded her demeanor, but instead he found sadness. One so profound it nearly struck him too, when their gazes met and she spoke to him across a vast, unseen expanse.

Though his keen observational eye picked up on it, the brunette still had a good poker face. Clearly imbibed, but an effective mask nonetheless. It left Cass not entirely sure in which direction her sadness was tipping, so he kept his expression neutral, and turned to face her directly so that she might understand that she had his full attention. Maxime couldn’t be further from his mind.

“I understand. It’s been a long night, after a long day,” he confided to her, voice quiet enough that only she could really hear. “Pleased to find a quiet moment now, though.” They clinked their glasses together in a mild gesture of cheers, and Cassian took only a small sip of his drink. “May there be any way I could be of service?” A vague question because he was confronted by a vague problem, though he could not possibly leave Miss Dashwood like this.

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eyecandy by fox<3

Poppy felt Mr. Valenduris’ voice in her bones, warm from the inside out. It tickled at some self-pitying need inside the brunette that made her look at him with slightly more interest than before. He really was a handsome man, one that had always managed to cheer her upon meeting. Perhaps tonight too he could be her balm; her something warm to wrap up in and forget about reality. Clinking her glass delicately with his, Poppy took another sip and found the sip jarring enough to make a small face. She didn’t like fire whiskey much, but the occasion called for it.

Tugging the small cheery that had been dropped into her drink by the stem, Poppy popped the thing into her mouth slowly. She considered her companion’s question carefully while chewing and the sensation was… strange. This was unlike any cherry she’d had before; it was sweet and then sour causing the diminutive brunette to wrinkle her nose in distaste. That had definitely been enchanted, she realized belatedly. Oh goodness.

“No, thank you Mr. Valenduris,” the girl replied gratefully then. Her voice was a touch raw, but genuine nonetheless. “I dare say though, have you tried these cherries? There is something quite strange about them…” she added, looking into her drink at the second. She debated momentarily offering it to him and then decided against it. It would be better if one of them had their wits, lest something bizarre happen.

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Cassian Valenduris

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© Fox

Cassian joined Poppy in taking a sip from their drinks, though gathered from her expression that she wasn’t entirely satisfied with her choice. The reaction sufficed to raise the corners of his lips though, and he was sure to politely turn his head down to his glass so she wouldn’t get the sense he might be laughing at her. He wasn’t - he just thought everything about her seemed as sweet and delicate as the prettiest patisserie, even the way she grimaced. Perhaps next time they meet, he'll insist on getting her a proper drink.

“I haven’t tried the cherries,” he confided, trying to not watch the way she ate the fruit too closely. Too much a gentleman, Cassian was too self-conscious to let on that he considered her in a lewd way... even if it did feel like she was doing this on purpose. Which simply was unfair.

“And I can’t say you’re really selling me on trying one,” he teased, tilting his head at her curiously. “Do they taste strange, or is it something more? I’ve heard rumors the fruit at this ball might have had some meddling.” (Well - more than rumors - he saw with his own two eyes some of the side effects, and now had a literal child to care for now because of it. But he didn't want to frighten her… Maybe just vaguely suggest that she shouldn’t eat several more.)

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Poppy Dashwood

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eyecandy by fox<3

Poppy eyed the big blonde beside her as the sensation of warmth crawled through her system. It was an edging feeling, one that made her want to draw closer to the gentleman. Cassian Valenduris, for all his towering height and heft over her, was comfortable. Safe. Poppy enjoyed the ease of their acquaintanceship and she felt some of the pain of her friend’s loss beginning to abate the more she let her thoughts fall into the beckoning lure of the cherry. He was right; there was absolutely something enchanted about this fruit that was making her feel better but Poppy leaned into it. She would happily take anything that could give her peace of mind the remainder of the evening!

Smiling gently at him as she considered the blonde’s words, Poppy only eyed the remaining cherry interestedly. “It’s certainly a little more than strange,” she hummed, a floaty essence hitting her tone. The draw tugging at her heartstrings had changed. Where it was all blue sadness and a ridiculous urge to burst into tears before, now it had turned a soft pink drawing her attention to the elegance of the man beside her, the edges and corners that made up his rather handsome face and backside. A soft blush crossed her features at the thought but no real shyness touched her expression as might have on a normal day.

Settling her hand lightly across Mr. Valenduris’ arm, perhaps brazenly so, Poppy turned a beckoning look on the man. “Would you come with me to get some air?” She inquired innocently.

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Cassian Valenduris

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© Fox

Cassian could hear the way her voice changed. It lilted in an airier, happier note. The contrast of her expression when he first found her, and what it morphed to now, flickered across her face like ticker tape raining from her eyes to her lips. Lips which looked stained slightly red from the cherries. Gloom smoothed away. He raptly watched the blush spread over her cheeks, and bit the inside of his lip.

This is very unfair, his mind grumbled, because his body wanted to react. He wondered vaguely if these drinks got to him too, or there was something intoxicating in the air (it would be easier, to pretend this was the fault of something beyond their control). In a deft movement, he decided to set his half-drank glass aside.

Do the gentlemanly thing. An unthinking hand reached out to pull the glass away from her, and a quick glance at its contents as he set it aside proved that she drained it all. The proximity brought her hand to his arm, soft and light as a feather, but somehow capable of making it feel like she’s jolted his body with lightning. When it lingered there, accompanied by her demure question, he raised his eyebrows at her as though to imply, are you sure about that?

A side to Miss Poppy Dashwood he hadn’t yet seen.

“Alright,” he agreed as evenly as he could manage. In that split second he made the determination that a bit of fresh air might do them both some good. Though, appearances here might suggest otherwise. Taking advantage of a lady in her condition was not something he found as compelling as some other men, either. So it was with at least halfway good intent that he hoped moving her away from this intoxicating space might help her find her grip. Blue eyes cast around them to see if Atticus Foxwood was anywhere to be found. Coming up short, he brought his arm up slightly so hers might thread through his, and he moved them surreptitiously outdoors to the cool evening.

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eyecandy by fox<3

As the tall, imposing form of Mr. Valenduris appraised her, Poppy couldn’t help but stand a little taller and turn a sultry grin on him with every ounce of confidence in her tiny body shining through. There was little in this world that frightened Poppy Dashwood. In fact, in this moment there wasn’t a thing she could conceive of that might come even remotely close to prompting her fear and along with it, out the window went her self preservative instinct. (Slightly delayed as it was, it wouldn’t be much help to her now anyway.)

Plucking the last cherry from her glass just as Mr. Valenduris reached for it, Poppy laughed her twinkly little laugh and popped the thing into her mouth with a flourish. She ran the cherry stem through her teeth, elegantly tugging it free and placing it into the glass even as a brow was raised in her direction. The brunette raised a shoulder as if to shrug in response; who was he to be judging her on her actions or taking her drinks? Not a chaperone, that was for sure.

Luckily for him however, Mr. Valenduris agreed to Poppy’s little suggestion and the girl carefully placed her arm over his to move towards the upper balconies. There was a garden just behind the rather large ballroom over which a stone balcony overlooked. It was here that Mr. Valenduris finally maneuvered them and Poppy followed gracefully behind, silent, as she stepped out into the slightly brisk summer evening.

It was humid, all things considered, perhaps even a touch damp. For this reason, there were not many revelers outside and Poppy almost laughed at her luck. Already the second cherry had started to touch the frayed edges of her mind and repair whatever sadness had decided to deteriorate her spirit. She tugged Mr. Valenduris in the direction of the nearest pillar almost a good three yards wide, her tiny form bearing no power against his larger one other than what feminine whiles might entice. She knew it, and she tossed him a mischievous look over her shoulder even as she lifted her arm from his and rounded upon the gentleman behind the pillar.

“Now isn’t this better?” She asked, that sultry touch to her voice giving the usually twinkly little sound a deeper pitch. Finally she could hear herself think and speak without all the noise of the ball drowning what few cohesive thoughts the brunette had managed over the past few hours. Her grief lingered on the periphery, a reminder of pain, but dulled to the sensation that was once again warming her from the inside out. That second cherry had really struck a chord, making Poppy feel blissfully unaware of what anyone could possibly think or say or do. It promised her love and companionship, acceptance of even the worst parts of herself. Something about it even whispered to her about what it would feel like to be wrapped in those big arms of Mr Valenduris’ that the gentleman seemed to keep so wildly to himself (unlike others.) Poppy couldn’t stand to exist one more moment without that feeling engulfing her. She would do anything to fulfill the promise that warmth in her belly was yearning for.

Stepping closer to him and raising a delicate hand to the man’s waistcoat buttons, Poppy played with one of them idly. She made no motion whatsoever to undo it, instead sliding cold little fingers along the soft fabric and tapping at the button gently. “Tell me, Mr. Valenduris, what is it that you admire about me if anything?” She hummed.

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Cassian Valenduris - r.i.p.

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   Cassian Valenduris

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© Fox

Cool blue eyes followed her slender fingertips as they fetched the cherry from the cup and brought it to her mouth, where his gaze riveted for a beat too long to play off. It was that stubborn look she leveled that finally threw him, and even drew a soft laugh of disbelief. “Ah. I see you don’t like being told what to do,” he observed keenly.

It was certainly shaping up that he had a ‘type.’

The alluring moment gave him a lapse in better judgment. It was something he didn’t much consider until they came outside where the air was muggy and still, and the garden deserted. At that moment, he realized that moving outside was not the best idea. In his purposeful ignorance of the desire burning in his body, it seems they jumped from the cauldron into the fire.

This was far from the most scandalous thing Cassian’s done, so it was less nervousness and more guilt that kept him tense even as her lilting voice coaxed him to a distant corner. There were three good reasons he had to leave. First, he wasn’t drunk or enchanted enough to encourage this to happen. Next, their setting still felt uncomfortably close to the proper facade he purported to society. Last, and more importantly, he had plans for Poppy. Those plans did not involve any intimation that he wished to take advantage of her condition.

And yet…

Like molten metal, he let Poppy tug him towards the pillar. The big blonde’s shoulders began to relax. His lightly-whiskered chin dipped down slightly for his eyes to meet hers, leveling her a searching look when she asked if this was better. Better depends on what you’re trying to accomplish, and the air felt frightfully warm out here.

The curious look he wore flickered into a smile, at the feeling of her fingertips suggestively at his waistcoat button. Though he still shouldn’t dare touch her, this combustible woman. No matter how much he wanted to…

“It could be faster to list what I don’t like,” he teased instead, leaning back slightly against the pillar. The marble felt cool, and like it could offer respite. After a moment, his expression turned to a thoughtful appraisal of the lady before him.

“I do admire your voice,” he finally offered, truthfully. It sounded like silver bells, and made him smile. “And your… tenacity,” he added, eyes bright with amusement as he took a more tactful word than ‘stubborn’. More specifically, he liked the expression she wore when she wanted something, like how she looked earlier. “From what I gathered at dinner, you always have very compelling arguments,” he explained, thinking about her blithe teasing of Atticus at dinner and how easily she parried with Sabine with a broader grin. 

Even as he spoke he still felt acutely aware of Poppy’s fingers on his button. And the way his body shivered to react. Impulsively, he pulled her hand away from his waistcoat. Any respite, at that moment, felt like a better idea than letting her linger there for longer.

“Ah, and how I admire these dainty little fingers,” he continued, as he playfully surveyed her fingers and nails as though to inspect the state of her pretty manicure. Then his thumb grazed the bridge of her knuckles for a moment. The moment felt soft, and warm, and very much like home. Cassian sought her eyes as he raised her hand to place a chaste kiss on the top of it.

He really ought to leave.

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   Poppy Dashwood

Poppy found herself inclined to like the various emotions and sensations flickering across Mr. Valenduris’s face as she surprised and riled him. She wasn’t familiar with the gentleman by any extended means, but she liked to think they were growing into a familiar acquaintence with some purpose to it, which meant she wouldn’t be wrong to try and decipher him. It was ostentatious for a lady to think any game won before the ever important proposal, but Poppy liked to think this particular fish was ensnared enough that she could at least bat at him a touch, like a cat, before she had to either reel it in or throw it back. He was strong and tall and ever so large anyhow. Surely he could handle a curveball or two?

Her fingers drummed against the button gently, admiring the easy finish. She relaxed them them and brown hues flickered up mischievously as the blonde began to speak. A sense of pride touched Poppy’s ego then; not at hearing she had a lovely voice, she herself thought it could serve to be a touch stronger at times, but to hear she was tenacious. There were many things Poppy aspired to be in this life, and an insipid wallflower was not one of them. She was glad someone saw her for what she was, even if she was consistently reigned in from the hellhound under the skin.

Mr. Valenduris captured her hand then and brushed his thumb over her knuckles, causing Poppy to hyper fixate on the movement. The touch sent a shiver all up her arm, raising little goosebumps. A heated blush spread across pale features, but she didn’t mind. It was warm and only drew her in more with a promise of envelopment. She sighed softly then and leaned forward, pressing her tiny self against him. “These dainty fingers should like a little excitement,” she cooed.

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Cassian Valenduris

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© Fox

The deep brown eyes, he should have listed as one of her best qualities. Especially when they turned up to him and felt like they lit his skin on fire like this. Years of experience told Cassian that he wouldn’t actually self-combust when he felt this way, but it always made him draw his breath in sharp like he anticipated it.

At least the fresh new debutant was maybe even just a little lesser prepared, and he decided that he quite liked her expression when thrown off its perfect, calculated polish. An averted look watched her blush intently, and he felt a bit smug about putting it there. So his lips languished over the top of her hand, at first with no purpose. Then she goaded him on and… well, gave him new purpose. An eyebrow arched at her, her only indication at how he received the suggestion. Are you quite sure?

The smile turned a touch rueful as he breathed softly onto her skin. So she wanted excitement. “I did not take you for such a thrillseeker, Poppy,” he admitted, enjoying the way her name sounded out loud. “My mistake…” Tone slightly teasing, as he eased her hand to flip over. He could smell the sweet fragrance of her perfume. Eyes never leaving her gaze, he lowered his lips to the inside of her wrist and kissed her softly there. Her wrist stayed firm in his grasp, his other hand tempted to rest on her waist. Fingers lingered featherlight on the beading of her dress. He wanted– much more than this. She did too, by the way her body pressed against him now. This pretty little thing, he could whisk her away right this instant and no one would be the wiser.

A little voice in the back of his head reminded Cassian that he’s a gentleman.

“But I won’t get ahead of myself,” he relented, pulling his mouth away and easing his grip from her hand.

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   Poppy Dashwood

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eyecandy by fox<3

At Mr. Valenduris’ little quirk of an eyebrow, Poppy felt a thrill of control she hadn’t yet experienced before. Perhaps it was something buried down deep, this desperate desire to be heeded, heard, listened to. She was not merely some porcelain doll that could be moved from shelf to shelf without a second thought; there were, in fact, thoughts in this wild head that she made every effort to tamp down and keep under wraps. But that look… that question, almost daring her to shy away… it struck something hungry in the diminutive brunette that any other gentleman might not have so easily struck.

Cassian Valenduris, for all his salt, was as eligible a bachelor as any. He was of decent marriable age, he was of good family and reputation and he was actually looking for a wife. Sure, like most, he’d probably stepped a toe or two out of line, but Poppy wasn’t sure she’d trust any buttoned up gentleman who hadn’t. There was something just… so about him, however, that made her heart race in contrast to his pristine outer facade. He was not dangerous, per say, as Mr. Lestrange might be. (Tempting her on any and every occasion, with no real effort to stop lest she give in.) But he was not as safe as say, Mr. Dempsey? (Sweet, gentlemanly, fun, distant. Safe.)

Mr. Valenduris was… something a little different. Something a little unknown. Something that made Poppy want to unfurl her hellish wings and devour him if only to command a gentleman’s respect, rather than bleat for it, once in her life.

The sound of her name on his voice then, liberties taken, only made her cock her head a little. “It is everyone’s mistake,” she whispered. “Underestimating me.”

He turned her wrist over in his hands then, her brown eyes tracing every movement carefully, analytically. The speed at which her heart was pounding ought to have been alarming, but Poppy could only focus on the sensation of Cassian’s lips on her skin. He wrapped one hand gently along her waist, and Poppy pressed closer. It was not mischief alight in her eyes this time, but want, and that want glimmered there behind overstimulated urges and a dulled sense of propriety.

He pulled away abruptly then and Poppy’s sharp gaze narrowed.

“Kiss me,” she demanded.

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Cassian Valenduris

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   Cassian Valenduris

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© Fox

So his hunch was proven right, he had underestimated her. Evidenced in the fearless way she watched him, her effortless turn of the tables so he felt like the one on display, the sharp edge in her whisper. Cass would be lying if he said she hadn’t sparked something in him, this pretty little thing with starlight eyes. He found his head tipping towards her even as she tilted her head, something magnetic kept their gaze locked. It would be difficult, going back to calling her Miss Dashwood after this.

As he dropped his hand from hers, he felt the currents change around them. Her eyes narrowed delightfully, and Cass pushed aside the idea of whose signature that reminded him of. Mind was busy anyway, trying to keep at bay every damning urge he had. So when she issued her request - no, command – his expression registered it with a broad grin. Without catching it, he laughed in disbelief, fingers at her waist reflexively pulling her closer. Ahh, but he shouldn’t. It didn’t matter that no one was around. They shouldn’t, not because of propriety or any such nonsense, but because there was a right way of doing things with someone you quite like.

(Mind skipping right over the fact that yes, Cassian already decided how it was he felt about Poppy. This surprising other dimension of her being only just confirmed it.)

Nonetheless, he leaned down to draw their faces close still. A middle and index finger hooked under her chin to tip her face up to meet his more easily.  Lips lingering, though not quite closing, the distance between them. Because he was still smiling, eyes flickering over her face to gauge her smallest reactions with relish.

If she was going to be so aggravating, he figured he should make her well and truly aggravated.

“Hmmm,” he murmured as though considering her request, as if every inch of his body wasn’t screaming for lust to swallow them whole. He tilted his head to the side slightly, daring his nose to bump against hers as he teased but did not kiss. Maybe a part of him wanted to see her take the leap - take whatever she’d like. A distant and more rational part of him - the one that latched on with a death vice on his last ounce of willpower – managed to say, “You’re sure that’s what you want?” Not that his hands budged even a bit from their hold on her. Whatever properties those cherries had, maybe he hadn’t made it out unscathed after all.

“Because I want to do right by you, Poppy,” he confessed, as close to an admission of how much he was starting to like her that he dared. An implication, buried somewhere in his burning desire, that what they were doing wasn’t the right way to do it – an inkling not nearly strong enough to stop him from pulling away.

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eyecandy by fox<3

His laugh made everything inside of Poppy want to scream in frustration. It was molten, enveloping her in its warmth and tugging at something inside of her that the brunette was sure she’d long since tapped down on. She was irritated, too, a touch, at being defied. His laugh was enough to make a joke of her request - never mind command respect. Narrowed eyes darted in irritation at the sound.

Still, despite his defiance, the blonde drew quite close to her face. Poppy’s gaze softened a touch, satisfied as he gently tilted her chin upwards. He hesitated then, even as her pulse raced faster. Eagerness drumming in Poppy’s veins seemed to scream out, willing him to bridge the gap even as brown hues focused anywhere but on the other’s lips. No, Poppy held her composure, her poise. She might only be five feet tall, but she was a lady. She was not about to be the one to bridge the gap.

(Cherry or no cherry, Poppy Dashwood was not a harlot.)

The humming sound Cassian made then vibrated all through Poppy’s bones in the worst way possible. She wanted to grab him by the cravat and hush him entirely. Of course this was what she wanted! She didn’t ask for things to be frivolous! He’d be best off learning that sooner rather than later. Poppy blinked quickly, ready to respond in kind, but something in the man’s next statement gave her pause.

I want to do right by you, Poppy.

Big brown eyes blinked again, the haze of the cherries clearing in her mind for a moment. Perhaps he was right. There was a way to things. Was this really, deep down, what she wanted? A part of Poppy still sung at the top of her squeaky lungs that yes, yes this was finally it. Her moment to command the very spirit of hell she so bottled every day. Another, slightly less dramatic part of Poppy pulled away. It wasn’t fair of her to put Mr. Valenduris in a situation like this when he was trying to be a proper gentleman. What too, would he dare to think of her if she pressed?

That thought shot through Poppy like a broken arrow to the spine. Instantly the brunette’s face twisted and she stepped away, hastily. Years of mental anguish about what other people thought: how to dress, how to behave, how to be the pinnacle of what a lady ought to be in society drowned out the sensation of longing. Poppy felt something settle poorly in her stomach then, nausea rising.

“You’re right, Mr. Valenduris,” Poppy said tugging out of his hold. “I beg your pardon.” Her voice was tight, strained even despite her best efforts. There was still very much a hazy lilt to it, desire dripping from every pore. She knew better now than to think this was a good idea, even if it ached. Besides. Perhaps there was something about her he wasn’t ready to grasp a hold of yet anyway.

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Cassian Valenduris

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© Fox

Cassian saw it, the moment his words shattered their moment and Poppy drew back like she had whiplash. Ah, he fucking hated it. The look she gave him, like what he said wounded her. This was not what he wanted to convey (but then, words were never his strong suit). The regret felt instant. But he felt his blood cool even with the small distance put between them, hampering blind desire and reassuring him - yes. This was… probably? the right thing to do.

And, he could not say their little… excursion didn’t serve an important purpose. Confirmed her interest in him, at the very least; drew up a surge of fire in his belly with the thought that this might put him a cut above the rest. Not that it was a competition for Poppy’s affections. But it felt that way.

Cassian made no attempt to hold Poppy back as she pulled away, hands dropping heavily at his sides. In the beat that followed Cassian rest his head back on the column, sucking in a deep breath as his eyes tilted up to the sky. Betraying for just a second, how his mind was torn between thanking the stars and heaving a groan over the chance he’d missed.

But– there would be more chances, wouldn't there? The faintest trace of optimism turned the very corners of lips up, even as he finally drew his head down to look at Poppy while she addressed him. Even if it disappointed him, ever so slightly, to hear the guard she threw up by referring to him so formally.

“There’s no need to apologize,” he pointed out quietly, the soft smile lingering over his lips. It wouldn't do for her to act as if they both didn’t look a little flushed, the air around them feeling all too warm and stagnant. If anything, he was the ass for goading her on. “I was being honest with you,” he added. About doing this right. “Ah, damn…” he sighed, not sure if this helped or harmed things. Being so honest. A hand absently ran through blonde hair, combing back the pieces that had fallen over his forehead earlier.

There were no thoughts of enlightenment, though. No definite terms for the right course, or to know what Poppy felt. But he knew some things now: he was excited by her. He also craved to know her better - particularly this side. So the best he could do was follow his gut.

“Honest about how I would like to see you again.” 

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   Poppy Dashwood

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eyecandy by fox<3

Poppy felt something stirring in her belly, battling with the effects of whatever that enchanted cherry had done to her instincts. She felt in a haze still, magnetized to her companion and almost willing to do anything to convince him to touch her, kiss her, whisper into her ear— but no. That was not the way of things! He’d said it himself and she, having broken now from some of the hold that had been pushing inside, was determined to come out of this alive.

Mr. Valenduris’ reassurances that she had nothing to apologize for didn’t help matters much as Poppy sighed a little bit to herself. Her nose wrinkled upon his expletive however; it was uncouth, but this must be as hard on him as it seemed to be on her. (Had he too eaten a cherry unwittingly without her notice?) Poppy smoothed the folds of her dress and waited, quietly, not trusting herself to respond. At last Mr. Valenduris recaptured her attention entirely and with surprise, Poppy’s gaze darted back to his smooth, adonis-chisled facade.

I would like to see you again.

Now here was a reassurance that Poppy was inclined to believe. Offering the man a sultry little smile, she tilted her head demurely. There was no action she could think to take or phrase she could think to answer him with that did not, in some respect, bring them back to where they’d started. She wanted to press up against him and pout and force him to reconsider, but her pride would not be bent. So, instead, Poppy lifted a delicate little hand to gently press against the gentlemen’s cheek.

“I should like that, too,” she replied with every insinuation imaginable.

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Cassian Valenduris

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© Fox