"She's very pretty."
The subject of Raelyn's observation (and really, she hadn't even needed to make it, he wasn't blind) was a woman with a round face and fluffy blonde hair, standing at the duke's side. Dante could accept that she was indeed pretty, but what he found more eye-catching was the fact that she was clad in full armour, with a sword hanging at her side. One gauntleted hand rested on it, and the woman's eyes were sharp as she swept her gaze back and forth, over the guests that were now beginning to assemble throughout the hall.
"I'm more interested in the fact that she's apparently a swordswoman." Dante reasoned, ignoring his companion's attempt to screw around, leaning into the shadows and against the wall so that no-one would see him and assume that he was talking to himself. (A lot of people had made that mistake.) "They said that there was a shortage of security. Why would we be hired if they already had someone lined up?"
Floating by his side, Raelyn shrugged. "Eh, better safe than sorry?" He could see her seriously consider the matter for maybe a second longer, before her expression relaxed and she leant backwards, resting her hands on her head and beginning to expel her usual ambivalent aura. "More to the point," she continued, "who gives a shit? Long as they pay us."
Dante, personally, still wasn't satisfied, but he supposed that that was what he got when he asked anything about the oddities of humans to a demon who was outspokenly disinterested in humanity.
"As long as they pay us." He agreed. Raelyn was right. It didn't really matter.
-
"You hired a mage."
Duke made a gesture that was... what it was supposed to imply, Plue wasn't sure, but she at least could understand that he was feeling agitated.
"This is an important occasion." He reminded her. "The annual Nexus Ball, it-"
"It's a sign of unity between the factions and also a night where some important people are gathered together in one place." Plue rattled off, by now more familiar than she would have liked with a lot of the political workings of her Dukedom and its neighbours. "I understand, I'm just... surprised, is all." Her gaze dropped to her sword, as it had a habit of doing when she didn't have the energy to look someone in the face during a conversation. "They're supposed to be expensive. You can afford that?"
"In the defence of peace, no cost is too great." Duke nodded. Plue resisted the urge to roll her eyes - she'd heard that one before.
"If you're sure." She said. "I..." She, personally, still thought that it was overkill, but she knew that bringing it up would just lead to another lecture from her uncle about the necessity of adequate protection, or something along those lines. It wasn't that she didn't respect the points he made, or even really disagreed with them; she just wasn't in the mood to hear them again. This job was going to be draining enough as it was.
"And you're sure you're alright with this job?" Duke attempted to change the topic, but she waved him off.
"It's fine." She assured him. "I've done this plenty of times before. It's not going to be difficult."
Duke harrumphed. "I don't doubt your capability, my girl. I suppose I- I'm just worried that you never get any chances to enjoy yourself on nights like these. They're supposed to be nights of union and celebration, and here you are, standing in a corner for hours on end. You sure you don't want to take a break at some point?"
The thought of 'taking a break' definitely had its appeal, Plue reasoned. But no, she was set in her routine by this point. Better to just do what she always did. Besides:
"It's because I stand around in the corner that everyone else gets to enjoy that, uh, celebration and union." She reminded Duke. "The needs of the many, and all that." She patted the aging man on the back. "Trust me. I'll be okay."
On the subject of standing around in corners... she turned to look at the mage. There was something suspicious about him, the way he was skulking in the shadows. Not that she wanted to make any assumptions - but at the same time, it was slightly strange behaviour.
She shook her head. Maybe it was a mage thing. What did she know? It didn't matter anyway.
-
"Howzit." Dante blurted unwillingly. The swordswoman glanced at him with a gaze that was somewhere between 'curious' and 'wholly reluctant to engage'.
He'd resisted the temptation to say anything for a while, but the two had been positioned together as the night had dragged on, and as dancers and conversing nobles had filled up most of every other space. He'd eventually gone to stand by the doors, which were both a good place to guard from and a good place to keep out of the way of partygoers, and when he'd gotten there he'd found that she'd had a similar idea. And after that, they'd been standing by one another's side without interacting at all. While he could respect wanting to be professional and not say anything, Dante had always been a curious guy. Meeting new people was (almost) always fun! And it didn't help that he'd had a literal devil on his shoulder in the form of Raelyn, who'd spent the last ten minutes trying to convince Dante to pull on the swordswoman's hair and then play dumb. As a joke.
(Yeah, that wasn't going to happen.)
"...Hey." The swordswoman eventually responded. Dante waited a moment, but it was clear that he was going to have to do the heavy lifting if he wanted this conversation to get anywhere.
"Sorry," he began, "if I'm disturbing you, I just- I felt bad that we were just standing here and not trying to get to know one another, you know?"
The look on the swordswoman's face told him that no, she did not know. A sensible person may have stopped trying there, but one of Dante's best talents was a great lack of knowing when to stop.
"You don't find this boring sometimes?" He indicated to the ballroom - a great wide-open space packed with a throng of bodies, surrounded by candles and watched over by gilded chandeliers and a ceiling decorated with clouds and deities. 'boring' felt ironic. "Just... standing by, waiting for something to happen?"
The swordswoman hummed.
"I... suppose I can see that." She admitted - the first words that she'd said to him. "Personally, though, I find it more tiring than anything else."
Dante raised an eyebrow, but she didn't respond. "Why do you find it tiring?" He prompted.
The swordswoman blinked. "When I'm here, I always... I always try my best to remain focused." She explained. "It's my job to stay here and keep watch for any potential dangers or accidents, so that's what I do. I don't find it boring, because I'm always on alert, but after a while it tires me out."
"Huh." Dante would be lying if he said that he'd thought about it from that perspective before. "I'd be lying if I said that I'd thought about it from that perspective before." He turned to face her. "So, I guess you're on guard, you're looking at everything pretty... pointedly. Eh?" He nodded at the sword by her side. "Eh?"
It wasn't quite a full laugh. In fact, it was barely even a laugh at all. But the swordswoman exhaled harshly, and cracked a smile. She smiled with her eyes. It was cute.
"That was a bad joke." She told him.
"You laughed." Dante defended his joke's honour. Her smile only widened.
"I never said I didn't like it." She pointed out.
Behind Dante, Raelyn barked a laugh.
"Touché." Smirked Dante. Their gazes met - his, and the swordswoman's - and he could tell in that moment that a camaraderie, and perhaps even a tentative friendship, had been formed. He resisted the urge to high-five himself.
And then, he had an idea.
"Hey, so I just had a fun thought." He said to the swordswoman. "And feel free to refuse."
"Oh no." The swordswoman sounded like she was on the verge of laughing, which was a contrast to her words. "What is it?"
"We have a twofold problem, you and I." He explained. "I'm bored, waiting for something to happen, and you're tired because you're taking your job super seriously - which I respect!" He held up his hands placatingly.
The swordswoman folded her own arms. "And you have a solution to our problems?"
"Indeed, I do." Dante held out his hand to the swordswoman. "Fancy a dance?"
It was something of a shot in the dark, and there were a few worrying moments where the swordswoman (completely poker-faced) didn't respond, leaving Dante holding his hand out and feeling like an idiot. But then, slowly, she reached out and took his hand in her own. The fact that she was wearing a gauntlet was something different to how he'd always imagined leading a woman onto a dance floor, but he didn't mind.
She took a deep breath. "Indeed, I do."
-
There was a not small part of Plue wondering what she was doing, why she was doing it. She had a job to do, she had to stay alert, and she'd explained that much to the mage. And yet, she'd accepted his offer.
Perhaps it was because her earlier conversation with Duke had inspired her, and given her the courage to do it. To break away from her duty, and from the comfort of routine and repetition, and do something impulsive. Perhaps it was because the mage was good company - and he was, she could tell, although they hadn't spoken very much. He seemed interesting and bright-minded, but he also seemed kind. She liked that.
Perhaps it was just because she liked to dance.
Whatever the case, she let the mage lead her out onto the dance floor, cutting through the crowd with relative ease. (Relative being the operative term - she still had to twist her torso a couple of times to make sure that her sword and scabbard didn't get caught on any dresses.)
"You doing alright?" The mage asked her, turning to look back.
"I'm fine." She assured him. He nodded in acknowledgement.
Eventually, they reached a patch of dancefloor where there was space enough for them to move. The mage let go of her hand, which she found unreasonably upsetting, and then stepped back and spread out his arms.
"Do you want to lead, or should I?" He asked. "The dance, I mean."
"Oh!" She hadn't thought of that. "Um, you can lead."
"Are you sure?" He questioned. "If you're more comfortable leading, I'm happy to-"
"I'm fine." She said again, cutting him off and then immediately feeling guilty about it. "I- I'm more used to dancing by myself, and if I led, I probably wouldn't account for your rhythm or anything. You should lead. I insist." The last words came out with a little more force than she'd intended, but the mage didn't seem perturbed. He nodded his head.
"As you wish." He acknowledged, before holding his hand out again - well, both of them, this time - beckoning her into position.
She stepped forward, joining him, and then they began. Her latent worry that something would somehow go wrong faded away - he was a fine dancer. And even with her arms and armour, she was able to keep pace.
"So," He said, as they danced, "do you dance often?"
"When I can." She replied. It was a slight challenge to keep her steps in line while making conversation, but if nothing else, she wanted to be courteous. "I find it fun - though, I don't normally do so in a suit of armour."
He laughed over the small clanking noises that her armour was making as she moved.
"Probably the sensible option." He agreed with a wry smile.
"Yeah." She nodded. Then, remembering her duties, she looked around. There was no sign of anything out of the ordinary - at least, none that she could see - and she let herself relax a little again.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to her.
"You say you're a mage?" She asked.
The mage nodded. "That, I do."
"I'm not trying to be accusatory, but where are your apparatus? Your sources of magic?" Though she only knew so much about magic and its system, she was at least aware that mages used tools in their command of it - staffs, wands, and enchanted objects were used to channel magic, and many mages also had natural sources of magical energy to draw their power from. But this mage had no visible tools or sources on him. She supposed that the pockets of the coat he was wearing (a long, double-tailed red thing) could have been hiding a wand or moonstone in them. But she was curious.
"Ah! Those." The mage's voice changed in tone. "I... I do have a source, but it's unorthodox."
"Alright." She said, placatingly. "I won't pry." A flicker passed through the mage's eyes. They were blue, she noticed - dark blue, like the depths of an ocean or the edges of a thunderstorm.
"I promise, I don't have anything to hide." He assured her. "You can trust me. It'd just take a hell of an explanation-"
"Don't worry." Plue spun, guided by the mage's hand as the music swelled, almost crashing into his chest as she made the rotation. She hastily moved backwards, hoping that the heat she felt in her cheeks wasn't visible. "I- um- I trust you."
"You do?" The mage looked genuinely excited at the prospect.
Plue snorted. "Maybe against my better judgement. Yes." They drew away, and she pulled him back towards her, careful not to exert too much strength and yank him past her.
"I'm flattered." He said the words like a joke, but Plue thought she could sense sincerity in his voice. Although maybe that was just her being fanciful. She didn't have a response, so she settled for throwing herself into their next motions with gusto (she really did enjoy dancing). Though, after that was over, she looked around again. Did anything look to be out of place?
"You still on alert?" The mage asked. She shrugged.
"It is my job." She reminded him. "Both of our jobs, as a matter of fact."
"Don't worry, I'm doing my part." He said, evidently trying to sound assuring. The answer confused her - he looked completely at ease. How was he doing his job and being alert? Did he just not look it? Thankfully, he must have seen the confusion on her face, because he sighed.
"It's part of my magic." He waved his hand.
It still sounded odd, but, well, she did trust him.
"Alright." She muttered, begrudgingly. "If you're sure."
The mage winked.
Suddenly, Plue felt a chill up her spine. She looked around again. Something wasn't right, she felt it, she knew it-
There. A slightly short man with black hair and a mask. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted his finger playing with a hilt. Though the blade was tucked away, there was little doubt in her mind that he was armed. Probably a knife. She saw him look away, to another person. They, she realised with a sinking feeling, were also wearing a mask. One of them paused, and then turned to look at her. She looked away with a start, heart pounding. They had to know she was security, from her armour. What would they do? Would they try to avoid her? Would they flee if she acted? Would they try to kill her first?
She could act now. Try to stop them before they did anything. But the dance floor was so crowded, she doubted she could get close enough to them before they could do serious damage. And even so, what would she do once she got there? If she tried to use her sword, she'd probably just cut some unfortunate noble's head off.
No, she was going to need help.
"Mage." She whispered. His gaze snapped to her. She indicated with her head, glancing out of the corner of her eye at the closest masked figure. He followed her gaze - she saw his eyes harden.
"I see it." He said.
"Them." She amended. "At least two of them, wearing the same mask."
The mage nodded. Then, he blanched and turned to her. "There are more." He revealed. "They're looking for us."
"Us?" Plue squeaked, in spite of herself.
"Okay, well, specifically you." The mage amended. "What with you standing up there earlier and basically announcing your presence." Plue snorted, but quickly pushed the humour from her headspace.
"We can worry about semantics later." She told him. "In the meantime, what do we do?"
"I've got something." He replied. Then, he looked past her - up, towards the ceiling, at apparently nothing - and nodded.
He made no other moves, and didn't magically produce a staff from anywhere, but suddenly Plue felt a tingling feeling, and looked down to see that her appearance had changed. Instead of armour, she was now wearing an ankle-length grey dress.
"Sorry." Said the mage, and Plue looked up and saw that instead of the coat, he was now clad in a very generic-looking suit. "It's an illusion, but I figured-"
"Don't worry about it." Plue assured him. "It's perfect." She looked around. The masked figure was gone, and it made her feel relieved and more worried at the same time. "Are we good?"
The mage paused, squinting. Presumably he was figuring it out through his magic. Then he waggled his head in a gesture that Plue couldn't quite say she was familiar with.
"Sort of." He explained. "The good news is, they're not going to go through with their plan - which I'm still figuring out the specifics of - until they're sure that you and any other security is out of the way. So, the time crunch isn't as bad as it could be. We just have to act natural for now."
"Okay. Okay." Plue breathed. "Act natural. God it." She tried to get back into the dancing, but by now, the atmosphere had completely changed. Try as she might, she couldn't find a rhythm or a comfort zone. The knowledge that lives were on the line felt like it was running through her veins.
After treading on the mage's foot twice, she bit her lip. "I'm really bad at acting natural."
"It's okay." The mage assured her. "I mean - they're apparently heading this way, so we might still die, but I won't hold it against you."
Plue looked at him. "There's no change of us being able to fight our way out?"
The mage shot her a funny look. "We could, but probably not without a bunch of dead civilians on our hands." He said.
She nodded. "I thought the same thing." She revealed. "I don't think it's a chance we can take."
Her foot misstepped - she stumbled, and the mage caught her.
"Glad to hear we're on the same page, ethically speaking." He quipped. "Although that does mean we still have something of a task on our hands."
By this point, Plue could see the outlines of more masks, either on the fringes of the crowd or slipping through the crowded dance floor. And what, she reckoned glumly, would happen when they saw her? The mage's illusion was good, but if they caught sight of her face, or thought that she was behaving suspiciously-
Suddenly, she was hit with an idea to erase all suspicion. A potentially horrendously awkward idea.
"I- mage." She said, suddenly feeling the awkwardness. She didn't even know this man's name. But as the mage turned his (unfairly good-looking!) face back towards her, she knew that there was no other option.
"What-" His words were cut off as Plue placed her hands on his shoulders, lunged upwards, and all but crashed her lips into his.
-
Well, Dante had to at least marvel at just how quickly everything had fallen to pieces.
Okay, that was probably a dramatic way to put it, but it definitely felt as though things had gone from nought to one hundred too quickly.
First of all - the swordswoman was kissing him. He wasn't to complain about it, but it did seem a bit sudden. (And Raelyn cackling in the background didn't help.) He was so stunned that for a moment, he just froze, hands sort of awkwardly outstretched as she pressed her face harder onto his face.
Several seconds passed. She pulled away.
"Sorry." She panted slightly. "I read somewhere that kissing is one of the best ways to get people to not want to look at you. We don't want attention, I- I figured it'd work."
Dante, still slightly shell-shocked, didn't reply. Raelyn, meanwhile, floated closer to him.
"I'll spare you the trouble, lover boy," she crooned, "and just tell you that you guys are good. None of 'em are paying you any attention, and the one guy that was looking at you averted their gaze once the two of you started macking it up. And, before you ask, they are still looking for her. You've still got time, but that also means you can't draw attention to yourselves."
"Right." Dante hissed. "Thanks."
The swordswoman looked at him curiously, tilting her head - which had the effect of making her look more mesmerising than she'd already looked. Either Raelyn was messing with the illusion on her just to mess with him, or that kiss had sent some of his brain cells reeling. It was probably both.
"Sorry." He shook his head, almost reflexively. "Not you. I..." He breathed for maybe the first time since being kissed. "Wow."
"Sorry." She said again, blushing.
"Nah, it's cool." Though Dante wasn't sure how convincing he was being, he did his best to play it off as if fetching swordswomen snogged him all the time. "Remind me to thank whoever wrote the book you got that from."
Her blush deepened.
"Anyways," he continued, trying to not dwell on any awkwardness (they still had a job to do), "we should probably get off the dancefloor. Come on." Taking the swordswoman's hand again, he began to lead her back through the crowd, to the edge of the mass of bodies. Every so often, Raelyn would swoop down and tell him that there was one of the conspirators nearby, in which case he'd stop and follow her directions to make sure he didn't encounter them. He could tell that she wanted nothing more then to throw off the stealth and rip them limb from limb (he empathized... a little bit?), but she was restraining herself so far. He appreciated that (especially since she was already helping them out with the illusion thing). It wasn't often that she actually exercised restraint.
Eventually, they emerged from the crowd.
"Okay." Said the swordswoman. "What now?"
Dante paused.
"Honestly?" He admitted. "I was hoping you could tell me that."
She fixed him with an expression blank enough to make up for the fact that her cheeks were still tinged red.
"You seemed like the professional out of the two of us!" He defended himself. "Also, to be fair, it's not like I have any bright ideas just yet."
"Okay." The swordswoman folded her arms. "Well, I guess what we need to do is find a way to lure these guys away from the ballroom, and away from the guests. That way, we can fight them without worrying about any other people getting hurt."
"I hear ya." Dante agreed, scanning the ballroom. It was hard to make out the conspirators, given that a bunch of guests were wearing masks of some kind (some sort of weird rich partygoer thing), but eventually, he caught sight of one of them. Their shared mask design, he noticed, was pale white, with black decals. "But, how are we going to lead them away?"
"Just lower the illusion." The swordswoman suggested. "If they're still looking to eliminate security before anything else, we're the perfect bait."
"Sound dangerous." He observed, slightly drily.
"Sounds like my duty." Responded the swordswoman without missing a beat. "Just do it. We have a job to do."
"...Point taken." Admitted Dante, hoping that this wouldn't lead to his new companion getting herself killed. He turned to give Raelyn, who was still hovering by his side, a glance. She nodded, and removed the illusion.
The swordswoman sighed in satisfaction as the dress melted away to reveal her armour. Dante couldn't say he blamed her. In a tense situation like this, it was probably a lot more comfortable to be decked out in knife-stopping metal armour than in a dress.
"I understand that now isn't the time," she told him, "but after this is all over, could you explain just how you're doing this without any magical items? It's impressive magic, and I'm curious."
Dante glanced and Raelyn, who looked flippant.
"Hey, I don't care." She reminded him. "You can tell her about me, or not. It's whatever."
"Uh... sure." He thus said to the swordswoman. "I'm up for that. I mean, once it's all over anyway."
She nodded. "Once it's all over." She agreed. Her expression became one of thoughtfulness. "In the meantime, however, I guess we just need to act... oblivious? To make sure these guys don't realise that we're on to them."
He nodded. "Also, we need to leave." He took a stride towards the nearest door that led off into a corridor, and another part of the mansion, but she seized his wrist in a vice-like grip that he really shouldn't have been so surprised by.
"Not yet!" She hissed. "Not until we know they've seen us, and will follow."
"Ah." Acquiesced Dante. "Good point."
"It's ok." The swordswoman assured him. "It shouldn't take to long. We just need to be sure."
Dante wasn't willing to think it would be that quick and convenient, but a few moments of waiting and a quick scout around by Raelyn later revealed that the swordswoman was right - a large number of the conspirators (though not all of them) were heading towards them.
"And now, we bounce." Dante proclaimed, striding through the door and into the corridor, pacing hard and walking fast. Nodding to Raelyn (who hovered by the doorway and began to keep watch) and ignoring the swordswoman's confused repetition of "bounce?", he rounded a corner and waited for her to catch up. He noticed that she was clenching the hilt of her sword tightly.
"You nervous?" He asked. She shot him a smirk.
"Hardly." She revealed. "Honestly, I'm just not a fan of all this sneaking around. Give me a straight fight any day."
It was at that moment that Raelyn rematerialized at his side.
"They're coming." She told him, in no uncertain terms. (Really, that was something he could appreciate about her. She was always nice and blunt.)
Footsteps began to echo through the hallway.
"I think you'll get your chance." Dante assured the swordswoman, just as from around the corner came perhaps eleven or twelve of the masked figures. They stopped dead when they saw both of them, heads turning as they eyed one another through their masks. Presumably, they hadn't been expecting their targets to just be standing here waiting for them.
For his part, Dante wasn't sure what he would have said in that moment (probably some dumb, tension-breaking joke), but the swordswoman saved him from having to make a choice by immediately drawing her sword and rushing at the nearest masked figure. Before they could so much as draw their weapon, she'd driven the blade into their shoulder and forced them onto the floor.
"Oh, I like this chick." Raelyn said appraisingly as the swordswoman spun her weapon in an arc, forcing the other figures to scatter.
"Well, let's not let her outdo us." Dante responded. "Raelyn?"
"I hear ya." In a flash, Raelyn had dropped the illusion that had rendered her invisible to all except Dante, and lunged forward, palms filling with indigo fire that she used to set alight any of the conspirators she touched. The swordswoman saw this happening, and blanched.
"That's a-"
"Yeah, that's a demon." Dante confirmed, watching bemusedly as Raelyn threw one of the figures across the hallway. He couldn't blame the swordswoman for her reaction - Raelyn looked a bit like a ghost, what with her translucent form, stringy hair, and face full of wrath. Plus, the fact that every part of her was coloured some shade of purple, including the offensive magic she used to fight, screamed 'non-human'. "It's a long story."
"I'd be delighted to hear it later." The swordswoman reminded him, parrying as one of the figures lunged at her with a sword of their own (and exactly how they'd hidden it on their person, Dante had no idea). Blocking the attack, she flicked her wrist, disarming her opponent, and then cutting them across the chest in a wide arc. They fell to the floor, stunned and bleeding, and the swordswoman practically threw herself across the room to get at the next hapless conspirator.
Honestly, between the swordswoman and Raelyn, Dante almost felt sorry for these guys.
No sooner, however, had he had that thought, then he noticed that while the swordswoman was busy fending off two of the conspirators at once, a third was creeping up behind her, knife in hand. Dante looked at Raelyn - she was busy battling her own conspirator, who was apparently a mage, deflecting her spells with a wand. There was no time. He broke into a sprint.
Before the figure could attack the swordswoman, he tackled them, wrapping his hands around their waist and bringing them crashing to the ground. The knife skidded across the polished wooden floor. Not wasting any time, Dante sat up and punched the conspirator in the face - well, in the mask. This turned out to be counter-productive, as the mask they were wearing was apparently make of porcelain or something. It shattered, and Dante hissed as he felt a sting in his knuckles. The conspirator, spitting with anger and pain, reared up and threw Dante to the floor, but before they could do anything to him, the swordswoman was there, cutting them with her sword. They fell backwards and remained still.
"Thanks." Dante breathed. She turned and smiled at him. There was a trail of blood down her face from her forehead, but other than that, she looked unhurt.
"I could say the same to you." She panted, extending her hand. He took it, and she pulled him upright. Looking around, he saw that the battle was over - all the masked figures were laid out on the floor with various injuries. The only sign of moment besides the swordswoman was Raelyn, who was busy gleefully kicking one of the bodies.
"So." The swordswoman continued. "Shall we go and wrap this up, then?"
Dante smiled. "Sounds like a plan."
-
Some time later, Plue was sitting on a garden bench, staring up at the night sky, keeping half an eye out for any bugs that would try to crawl up her armour (she hated it when that happened), and trying to resist the yawns that seemed to pop up every few seconds. Now that additional security had been rallied, and were busy sweeping the ground, she could afford to take a moment to catch her bearings.
As it turned out, there had been a couple of additional conspirators still in the ballroom with their intended targets, but upon realising that most of their number had been effortlessly defeated (not that it had been effortless, but she wasn't going to tell them that), two had fled and one had thrown down their arms and surrendered. And then, just like that, everything had gone back to normal. To most of everyone else, the party had gone through a minor hiccup at worst. And yet it seemed so much more significant to Plue. Mostly because of the fighting and sneaking, of course, but also because of-
"Found you!"
The mage strode up, waving. She waved back.
"So?" She asked, shuffling up the bench to make room for the mage, who sat down and immediately folded one leg over the other. "What was their end game?"
The mage, who had helped with interrogating the conspirator who'd surrendered, twisted his torso around to crack his spine with a slightly nauseating popping noise. "Eh, nothing too out of the ordinary." He said, waving his hand. "Assassinate some key political figures, fragment the peace between the kingdoms." He shot her a wry glance. "Not saying I called it, but I had a feeling that their plan was going to be something along those lines."
"I suppose it makes sense." Plue agreed. It was a night of celebrating peace and union, after all. If she was going to try and destroy said union, she'd try something tonight as well.
The mage snorted. "I'd call that unimaginative of them."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "I'd call it an attempt at poetry." She admitted.
He blinked, brows creasing as he thought about it for a moment. Then, he smiled. "Touché. Although - it's weird to think about poetry in attempted assassination."
"Well, I wouldn't be as flippant about it if they'd succeeded, obviously." Plue pointed out, resting her head on her hands and leaning back, turning her gaze back onto the stars. "And plus, people say I'm weird anyway."
"That sucks." Said the mage. "But hey, if it makes you feel any better - I know a bit about being seen as weird, as well."
She turned back to him. "What, with the whole demon thing?"
There was a shimmer of light as said demon reappeared, arms folded and floating several inches off the ground beside the mage.
"See how casual she is about it?" Said the demon, almost accusingly. "Just 'the demon thing'. No 'oh my God, get that weird sigil off my arm', or 'stop murdering everyone'." She rolled her eyes, and turned to look at Plue. "Sometimes I wish I'd been stuck with someone like you, who can just accept things, you know? None of this protesting nonsense."
"I..." Plue wasn't sure how to respond. "Thank you?"
The mage pinched the bridge of his nose - though Plue thought she could spot a ghost of a smile, half-obscured by his hand.
"Hey, Raelyn." He said. "Can you do us a favour, and sweep the grounds? Make sure that we didn't miss any of them, or that the ones who booked it aren't still here?"
The demon sighed like a child being ordered to eat their vegetables. "But the guards are already doing that!" She protested.
"But they can't see through walls." The mage deadpanned. "You can."
The demon sighed. "Fine, but I'm not gonna like it." She stuck her tongue out at the mage, before turning around and drifting out of sight. Plue stared after her.
"So..." she ventured, after enough time had passed without anyone saying anything to tinge the atmosphere with awkwardness, "unorthodox source of magic, you were saying?"
"Yeah." The mage nodded. "Summoned her a couple of years ago without really knowing what I was getting into. It was, uh... it was an experience, but we've come to a sort of understanding now, I guess." He turned to face her, and Plue realised suddenly that for all his acting relaxed, he was worried. Of what, Plue couldn't say - of her reaction? Of her judgement? It wasn't as if people making agreements with demons was a traditionally-done thing, after all - but she figured that either way, the least she could do was allay them. She could empathize with being a little bit different.
"Sounds interesting." She said, trying to sound kind. "As well as a good way to surprise people. You'll have to tell me the whole story some time."
The mage stared at her for a second - and then he smiled. Infectiously so, as she found herself grinning back after another moment had passed. And for a little while longer it was just the two of them, grinning like idiots in a garden full of garish flowers and tiny little insects, with the stars as their mood lighting.
"Hey." Said the mage after a while. "Before I forget, I need to give something back to you."
"Oh?" Plue exclaimed, trying to remember when she'd lent anything of hers to him - but then he leant across the bench, and met her lips with his own, and then any coherent thoughts she'd been trying to have were flung out of her head at full speed. His lips were indescribably soft (unlike her own, which seemed to never not be chapped), and when he pulled away, there was a twinkle in his soulful eyes.
"I'd never forgive myself if I left after tonight without returning that kiss you gave me." He said.
After hesitating for a moment, on account of being completely lost for words and also on account of not trusting her mouth to not say something incredibly stupid, Plue finally was able to reply.
"That's remarkably chivalric of you." She complimented. "Though, I must confess - it feels a little odd that even though we've kissed twice, I still don't yet know your name."
The mage huffed.
"No, that makes sense." He affirmed her. "It- my name's Dante."
"Dante." Plue repeated, letting the name run over her tongue, adding it to her image of him. Dante. It suited him, she decided. "My name," she said, holding out her hand, "is Plue Abernathy. It's... very nice to meet you."
The mage - Dante - nodded, before grasping her hand in his own. She could only feel so much through the metal gauntlet, and was struck with a sudden desperate longing to hold his hand with nothing in-between it and her own. His lips quirked upwards, slowly transforming into a beaming smile, and he replied in a voice that was little more than a breath; a voice promising that of whatever the future may have held for the two of them, this was just the beginning.
"Nice to meet you, too."