Breathe in the Embers

Part 24

Her business concluded, some might expect Lithuega to take her leave of the Gala. But while she hated small talk and arbitrary socializing, she adored balls. Enormous fancy get togethers were basically a weekly ordeal back home.

But she had to admit, humans threw the best parties.

Elegant and stately, such a formal surface, and yet every piece of every garment designed to enhance the physical appeal of the one wearing it. It was a facade, a game of sorts, where both sides played the innocent and yet plied all the wiles of a seductress or seducer. Gazed through lowered lashes. Sucked in guts, puffed out chests. Wore suits that exaggerated shoulders, or dresses that flaunted breasts, hips, waist, or legs.

It was such a decorous, lovely teasing facade that promised delights and yet rendered one unable to pursue them.

Things were much more… straightforward back home. She found it rather coarse in comparison with this splendor.

So instead she drifted off into the alternating clouds of cologne and perfume, some delightful, some grossly overpowering. Chatter echoed from every direction, and though she hated the shallowness of it, Lithuega found herself delighting in analyzing the tone, the subtext, of every conversation. Here, a woman desperately tried to get the attention of a man who only had eyes for another, the wife upon his arm. There, a man fruitlessly threw flirtation against the oblivious brick of another man who was not only straight, but hilariously unaware. Here, a pair of couples that were probing each other for willingness, and growing increasingly excited as they found the other party eager. Less than half the conversations had anything to do with being heroes, or politics, or the economy. And even those ones, a great deal were laced with something far more illicit. And were it just the politicians, Lithuega might have dismissed the behavior, but the heroes were as invested in the ordeal as anyone else.

A hand was held before her, palm up, the question asked as clear to her as spoken words. Lithuega glanced over the man offering it, his other arm behind his back formally. He was tall, like way tall, as even Lithuega felt positively petite before him. Her near six feet of height came to about his chin, and though she was fit enough, the toned, slender muscles of this man spoke of speed and endurance beyond those of most humans.

Probably not on par with hers, but impressive.

“May I?” he asked, his voice a low but pleasant rumble. It reminded Lithuega of something, not a voice at all, but she couldn’t place it.

“Have this dance? But of course.” she replied, taking the sepia colored hand in her own midnight blue one. She immediately stepped in, and his hands went to the right places without hesitation. One on her hip, one with fingers interlaced with her own. It made her rather breathless, how swiftly, easily, elegantly she was swept away with the music. They twirled and spun for a few measures before she caught her breath. Not from exertion, but from exhilaration.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Nightfire, isn’t it? I’m glad I could meet you this evening.” her partner commented, as at ease with their rapid movements as she was. “I do so admire your work on the fires. Many believe that our job is to pummel criminals. I prefer to look at it as saving people. When we stop a criminal, we not only thwart the crime but we also save them from regret and error.”

“A lofty belief for what many consider a harsh profession.” Lithuega replied, her lips curling in a slight smile. “I like it though.” she paused. “As is so often the case tonight, I seem to be at a disadvantage.”

“My name is Quake.” he replied with that closed lipped smile, his eyes flashing in the lights. They were mesmerizing, practically glowing amber. His hair was cut close, and she had already deduced his hero status by the mask he wore, and the slight alterations to his suit jacket.

The suit was slim cut, the tails going halfway down his legs, making the already towering and slender figure seem even more so. Were his shoulders and chest also narrow, he would seem little more than a stick. They were broader than the rest of him, giving him an almost triangular shape, his feet the point.

The jacket was not black, it was gray, and it was run through with cracks like old leather. The clearly intentional effect was done in deepest black.

His mask reflected this, and she had a feeling she knew precisely what his power set was. The mask itself was very Phantom of the Opera, almost trying to imply it covered something horrific, especially since the color precisely matched Quake’s skintone. The sepia mask was run through with red cracks, bloody fissures in the faux skin, made all the more macabre by the pleasant smile constantly worn below it.

“A pleasure to meet you Quake. I hadn’t precisely intended to dance when I came to this Gala.”

“What then could conceivably have been the point of coming?” Quake asked cheerfully, twirling her in time with the music. “May as well attend a feast with no conversation, or a holiday without family or friends. Perhaps be paid to perform a pointless job. If one only appreciates what you set out to gain from an experience, you miss out on the many, greater opportunities they present.”

Lithuega intended to reply immediately, but closed her mouth and thought his comment over. She had felt rather listless on her homeworld recently, just waiting for another contract. But now that she was here, she was trying to fulfill it and nothing more. Most contracts expected that, but with Martin…

Was she missing out on more than she realized here?

“I must admit you have given me quite a bit to think about, Quake.” Lithuega eventually replied, her eyes taking in the handsome line of his jaw, smooth shaved. She really was feeling quite taken with the man already. The music slowly wound to a stop, and they separated a few inches. “And thank you for the dance.”

“You are most welcome.” he replied with a delightfully formal bow. His brilliant eyes took in her deliciously clad form on his way back up, but without lingering. Ever so polite. “I would enjoy a repeat performance in the future myself.”

“Well then,” Lithuega replied with a grin, stepping forward and taking his hand herself. “Shall we?”

Quake laughed, a refined chuckle that bit right into her chest. Then he smiled with his blazing white teeth, eyes alight. “I’d be delighted.”