Sat, May 19 2012
| TITLE: | Relationship and Temptation |
|---|---|
| AUTHOR: | Moishouki |
| CATEGORY/TYPE: | Action Scene Workshop |
| RATING/WARNINGS: | PG, Gen |
| MAIN CHARACTERS: | |
| DESCRIPTION: | Action Scene Workshop Entry |
| STATUS: | Complete |
The morning was perfect, the sun was high over the Aurora and the white clouds were only beautiful in the blue of the sky. Phileas was awakened by a knock on the door of his cabin. The voice of his valet seemed to be jovial. That man always seems to be in a good mood when the weather is fine, the gentleman thought, rubbing his face with his hand while a ray of sun that had succeeded in passing by the not-totally-closed curtain came tickling his face as a kiss from the sun.
When Phileas let his man come in the room with a growl, the domestic knew it to be a sign of bad mood -- probably associated with a bout of drinking brandy, the night before. Passepartout didn't know the real reason his master had been drinking -- since the valet passed the evening with Jules in the work shop, readying an experiment to help Miss Rebecca in her work while Miss Rebecca, Master and another man, simply a long-time acquaintance of the Foggs, and the man's wife all went out to appraise the night-life of Monte-Carlo. Passepartout smiled at his master as he came into the cabin, setting down the basin of warm water and settling his shaving kit; while his master, sitting ready to let him work on his shaving, was lost in his memory of the evening before.
Phileas and Rebecca had gone out. They were meeting an old friend and his wife for a foursome. A good restaurant, a good evening between friends in an ambiance of soft music plays by an Italian band; but then between the main course and the dessert, Rebecca had started to try to get her cousin to dance. The request had been subtle at first since Rebecca was fully aware that a woman didn't usually herself ask for the dance; and Phileas had understand the message, but had only decided to forget it, since he was enjoying the company of his friends as well as the good vintage of the bottle of wine they had ordered, which was just at the best temperature for consumption.
The second request for dance had been more pronounced, and Phileas had frowned slightly at his cousin with an expression that had clearly said "not now." But Rebecca had come back at the charge with a third request, accompanied by a now-threatening gaze. At that look, Phileas had put down his glass.
"May I have the next dance with you, dear cousin?" he had said, with too much gentleness for her own comfort; but Rebecca had a particular idea in her mind, and before they stepped onto the dance floor she'd gone to the band and asked for something she had seen and learned to dance on a recent mission. They'd called it the Tango. It had been totally unusual for her the first time she had seen it, since the dance she knew was the Waltz -- and it was frowned upon in England to dance at less than an arm's-length distance between the partners. So a restaurant at Monte-Carlo, with a band that had already played it for other travelers and in front of people who already knew the Tango was surely less daring than trying it at the royal ball at London: and since she had learned it, she had wanted to try it with Phileas, but knowing him, he would never have agreed to it if she'd discussed it with him beforehand.
So Phileas waited for her on the dance floor when the sensual music came from the band, and he saw her come to him in a way he remembered from long time ago and had always preferred to ignore. But when she came close enough and caught him, he had no choice but to notice; and though he tried to lead her into steps less lascivious than the dance she didn't give him any choice in that matter either. The press of her body against his couldn't be ignored for long. Not matter how hard he tried to think about dull and annoying tasks, his thoughts always led him right back to the effect she was having on him. And then he wanted only to go farther than that, farther with her, as far he had always wanted go with her and had always preferred keep secret for long nights alone when she was so far away from him.
But at that moment, she knew, it became evident to her, it was not something happening only in response to the dance, it was coming from something deeper than that, something as old as a dream to be cherished for later. Each of them read it in the eyes of the other as the silent understanding they had shared for so long. They left the dance floor together and went back to the table, but their friends had already left the restaurant together after the dessert. The attendant had led them to a hotel; they asked for a room under a false identity, and paid for it right away before being shown the way by the bell-boy.
Once alone in the room, things had been happening far too fast. Phileas could recall the sharing of a warm kiss and caress with her, but next moment the situation had become a strained one. He couldn't remember what had changed that -- whether it was the fact that he had let her dress fall to the floor and seen her in her leather outfit without waiting for her agreement, or the fact that she had opened his shirt to touch his chest skin to skin with her hand. He couldn't be sure.
But he did recall how she had take a step backward to increase the distance between them and had said only too clearly the words that now echoed in his head, "I can't go through with this! I'm sorry!" He had looked at her without being angry, then; though he was now, he hadn't been angry at that moment. But he couldn't be sure of how he had asked "Why? We've both wanted this for a long time. If you're not ready, we can wait. There's no hurry."
Her answer had come almost before he had finished his sentence. "I can't let us do that! We both know what will happen after! Just as if it was already written! You will ask me to marry you, I couldn't deny it to you, and we could no longer be parted from one another so… I'm sorry I played that trick on with you, forgive me… I never meant to have that effect on you….".
He remembered that he had been angry then; he couldn't remember if he'd shouted at her, but he recalled his answer clearly enough. "Yes, you have that effect on me, that leather cat suit outfit does, your bloody harem outfit did and your damn courtesan red dress almost killed me. I love you, Rebecca. And it's far from being simple and chaste sibling affection. We are not siblings, bloody hell! And yes, I would want you close by me, in safety!"
Then it was too late, and there was no going back. She dressed herself quickly. "Yes, I know you love me, damn it! Hell! I love you too, Phileas!" she'd said, her emotion spilling over into her words. "But if I let you any closer to me than you are now, I will never again be able to keep you at distance; and you will never again let me go away to do the job I want do and I like doing! I will see you again back at the Aurora!"
And on that last word, she had gone through the doorway and left the room, slamming the door. He remembered walking back to the Aurora alone, in the darkness, his heart sore in hope that she would in the end understand his feeling for her and the importance she had for him. She had gotten back before him, and he knew by the faint trace odour of her perfume in the room that she had probably run for the stair.
He'd stayed downstairs in the main room to drink. He wasn't sure now if it had been because of her hard words to him, because her rejection, or only to pass the time until he could be sure that she was asleep before he passed in front of her door. But in silence, while Passepartout finished his shaving, Phileas hoped she understood and accepted him as a part of her, not only as a distant cousin.
End.
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