entrancelogs | [NYE Party] happy new year and lots of fun

Entry tags:

[NYE Party] happy new year and lots of fun

Who: EVERYONE, but especially you!
Where: Wonderland Ballroom
When: New Year's Eve
Rating: PG - PG13 (will change if applicable)
Summary: New Year's Eve Party
The Story:

[ Previously in the month all residents received an invitation to a formal event: a black tie affair to ring in the New Year. The ballroom and adjacent areas are decked out for the party starting at eight o'clock sharp, meticulously planned and executed, glittering décor to match the no doubt glittering attire as music pours into the halls from the dance floor.

Bars flank each side, service for all manner of alcohol unless a minor requests something, and the primary setting stage features an enormous clock for the countdown. ]

[ Where will you be when the clock strikes midnight? ]

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[She glances up when he approaches, shifting her stance once more so that her arms are folded across her chest as she continues to close herself off, still carefully balancing her glass in one hand. She hasn't been rude enough to ask him about the hook itself just yet, but it's almost amusing to see how out of place it looks, given the tone of the event.]

Makes sense. Didn't figure you were the black tie type.

[The Ren Faire guyliner aesthetic seemed to be more his jam.]

Seems like you're settling in okay.

You figured right.

[He's used to the standoffish posture, having fallen victim to it many times by now, but Killian remains relaxed. He pauses to take a sip of his rum and wets his lips, his gaze fixing on her rather than the gaggle of people spread out in the large ballroom. He doesn't care much for watching them.]

I'm settling in about as well as expected, which isn't much at all, but at least my ship's here. [It feels a little bit more like home on the Jolly Roger.] The rooms are a bit stuffy.

[He looks her up and down again, motioning to her dress with his hook, and something in his intense stare softens.]

You look stunning.

Your ship?

[It takes her a moment to put the pieces together-- oh. Right.]

Right, the pirate thing. You're a captain.

[She doesn't sound quite convinced, but not quite as skeptical as she would have a month earlier, either. She becomes keenly aware of the fact that his gaze is fixed on her, and she quickly busies herself by taking a sip of her drink, though she nearly chokes in response to the compliment. She's not used to giving anyone the chance to offer one-- and the accent might have something to do with it, too.]

I--

[She grimaces a little, uncomfortable, but the way he's looking at her is...

Well. She's tempted to say that it's nice, but even that doesn't feel quite right. Besides, what should she care? She's been seeing someone for the last eight months. That was pretty serious for her, all things considered.]

... thanks. You look nice, too.

[She might make fun of the way he dresses a little, but it does work for him.]

You think so?

[That makes him grin wider and he takes another confident step towards her, a roguish lilt to his voice and gleam in his eyes. Her busying herself with her drink is not ignored and he gives a low chuckle -- always the open book, Swan -- and he clinks his glass against hers once she's done with her sip.]

It does go well with my dashing looks and sharp wit.

[He could be wearing the frilliest top and the ugliest pants and still pull off devilishly handsome, even he knows that.]

[Can he do that? Can you just toast with someone when the other party isn't necessarily willing? That look of discomfort isn't going anywhere, but she does smile just the tiniest bit, uncertain and lopsided.

It's unlike Emma Swan to lack confidence, but this place has left her shaken-- though not quite enough for her to shake the strange feeling that comes over her when she talks to him, or anyone else that claims to know her. There's a strange familiarity simmering beneath the surface, but she just doesn't remember.]

And humble, too. Girls love that.

[Or so she's heard.]

[Whether the answer is yes he can or cannot, he's already done it and taking a decent sized taste of his rum. Killian's facing her full-on now, and her comment isn't making his smile disappear. In fact, her sarcasm gets another amused laugh out of him, and a raised brow.]

And what is it you like?

[He has way too much fun with her – it's this kind of playful banter reminds him of the first time they'd met, although it was under less than ideal circumstances. Looking back, their climb up the beanstalk had been a good memory for him, for the most part... barring any handcuffs and chains.]

[She raises both eyebrows in response, resisting the urge to take a step back and instead remaining planted exactly where she is, her glass halfway to her lips as she answers.]

Furniture designers from the Upper West Side.

[And yet even as she says it, she feels a little bit guilty, and she can't put her finger on why. She hasn't seen Walsh in weeks, and if what she's heard about this place is to be believed, she won't be seeing him anytime soon. After all this time, she feels like she should miss him-- but she doesn't. Maybe she misses Henry so much that there's no room for anyone else, but that's not why she feels odd. It feels strange saying that to Killian, in particular.]

[That's a shot right through the heart, and even if he makes any efforts to hide it, he can't. He licks his lips and bites down on the inside of them, repressing whatever sarcastic or upset comment he would have made. He knows exactly who she's talking about, too. That man from New York -- Walsh, she called him -- but he knew the truth.

... The truth that she was proposed to by a flying monkey.

He almost wants to come back with that, but that's the last thing Emma needs right now. Probably the last thing Killian needs, too. He doesn't care much for this Walsh character and would rather steer the conversation away from him as fast as possible.

Forcing down the ache in his expression with another drink, he forces his usual confident smile.]

Sounds a tad ordinary.

Ordinary's not so bad.

[Don't think she missed that reaction, thinly veiled as it was. He's clearly biting his tongue, and it makes her wonder if he'd been telling the whole truth about the 'old friend' angle-- assuming she actually believed that she'd had this whole other life that she'd forgotten, but there's so much evidence now that she's having difficulty denying it.

Maybe she'd felt that pang of guilt for a reason. Then again, maybe he was just--]

You're not jealous, are you?

[That smile looks more than a little forced, Killian.]

[He may be a little bit jealous, but he masks it with a low, breathy laugh that sounds more like an exhaled sigh.]

Not much to be jealous of – ordinary isn't really my type. I can't imagine being cooped up in a dingy shop designing furniture all day would be all that thrilling.

[There may be a bit of bite to his words, mostly because it's Walsh he's talking about. A pirate's life is the way of life for him, anyway.]

Didn't think it was yours, either. [No matter how much she wishes she could have that "ordinary" life, there's no denying that the life of the saviour is an eventful one.]

[She raises an eyebrow.]

And what do you know about my type?

[That underlying bite is easy enough to pick up on, even without her talent for reading people. If he really is an old friend, as he claims to be, it occurs to her that he might actually know something about that-- but she also knows jealousy when she hears it hinted at, and knows she should take whatever he says with a grain of salt.]

[He bounces a little on the balls of his feet, that clever sort of smirk making its triumphant return, even after fading behind that jealousy. No, he was never fond of Walsh and yes, he was definitely a little bit jealous, but he has the upper hand (or hook) this time – he knows what Emma chose to do.]

Oh, I don't know. The roguish scoundrel seems quite on the mark.

[Now he's just being cocky.]

[It's not a bad look for him, at least, although Emma feels another brief pang of guilt immediately upon thinking it. She takes another sip of her drink, feigning ambivalence instead.]

Pretty sure I gave up on bad boys a long time ago.

[They tended to leave you in the lurch, after all.]

Didn't pan out for me.

[Yeah, well. There's one that hasn't left her in the lurch. Not yet, and not ever. That one time in the Enchanted Forest didn't count.]

And you're certain that furniture designers would.

[Yeah, no. If Emma thought that he would be dropping that at all, he won't be. The first time, it was a little frustrating. The second? Well, let's just say that one was too many.

There's a booming cheer that rings out and echoes through the room suddenly, and Killian shifts to get a better look at what's going on-- an announcement that the clock will ring midnight in one minute.]

Ah. Looks like you'll be welcoming this "new year" with me.

[They can revisit whether or not that counted once certain memories are returned, thank you.

She shrugs fluidly. If he expects her to spout some overture of love in the interest of defending Walsh's honor, that won't be happening anytime soon, but she gives a tight smile.]

He hasn't let me down yet. I know it doesn't mean he won't. I'm a realist.

[Precisely why she doesn't let people get too close, as Killian well knows by now, whether Emma realizes it or not.

When a cheer rolls through the room, she raises both eyebrows as she looks towards whoever is giving the announcement, then back to him. She looks skeptical, as per usual, but she doesn't look opposed to the idea. It wouldn't be entirely unlike Emma Swan to excuse herself and walk away to avoid something like this, but instead, she stays.]

What, you're planning to kiss me? How do you know I'll even go for a hokey old tradition like that?

[There's one other important little detail that Emma has forgotten, among all of her memories: that she's easier to read than she likes to think she is.

He closes the distance a little more, holding his glass at his side so it's out of the way. The countdown hits thirty, and other pairs in the giant room appear to be doing the same he is - choosing a partner to ring in the New Year with. He doesn't meet her eyes yet, instead watching his finger tap tentatively against her arm, but he isn't smiling anymore.]

Because you're still here, love.

[She'll deny it until the day she dies, but he's not wrong. Emma Swan is an open book, particularly to those who've taken the time to get to know her-- and while she doesn't remember that Killian has absolutely done so, he's no exception.

She raises an eyebrow at him, as if to challenge, but just as he says, she doesn't pull away. She stands her ground, even as his finger taps against her arm, contact that normally would have been her cue to cut and run.]

There's still time for me to leave.

[But not much.]

When I got here, someone told me that 'true love's kiss' would bring my memories back. [It sounds ridiculous, but--] What do you think? Can a kiss really do all that?

[He smiles at the raised brows because that is such an Emma move, and one he's grown quite used to over the year. With a playful smile, he gestures to the room with a nod as the crowd continues to count, now from twenty and each digit a shout across the dancefloor.]

Only one way to find out, isn't there?

[The last time he attempted "true love's kiss", it hadn't ended the way he hoped; Killian wouldn't call a knee to the groin and a door in his face a prize for his efforts. ~~A crooked gold star at best.~~

As the countdown reaches ten, he makes another step towards her until she'll be able to feel his breath on her lips, tinted with hints of rum.]

[She half expects her fight-or-flight reflex to kick in, for her to decide that ditching is the best option after all, but her gut tells her to stay-- and if she's learned anything about herself over the last decade, it's that her instinct is always worth trusting. That same instinct had told her that no matter how crazy Killian's stories seemed to be, that he at least believed he was telling the truth-- and with enough conviction that it made a part of her want to be able to believe in it, too, to believe in this version of herself that had so many people who mattered to her.

She stands firm even as he draws closer, the countdown getting increasingly louder now that they're swiftly approaching the New Year, and the look she gives him is as much a challenge as anything she's said up until now. A few moments earlier, she might have wondered if he would actually follow through-- but not now, as the faint scent of rum accompanies him as he draws nearer.]

Implying your kiss is particularly significant?

[She's not a believer in 'true love,' curse-breaking or otherwise, but he seems pretty damn confident. She can't deny that holds her interest.]

It could be.

[And as the countdown finally reaches zero and the crowd cheers, Killian falls silent and smiles, crooked but certain, and maybe even a little daring. His hand slips into the pocket of his vest while his hook taps against Emma's jaw to tilt her head up towards him, and there's nothing tentative about the way he presses his lips to hers.

Compared to the first (and the last) time this happened, Killian is sure of himself while his hook slides behind her head to curl into her hair. The hand that was in his pocket slides over Emma's and places the tiny vial of memory potion into her palm, closing her fingers around the bottle and keeping them there.]

[She doesn't pull away. For all her cagey behavior, she only hesitates for a moment before leaning up into the kiss itself— and for as insistent as she'd been on the fact that she had someone back home, there's something about this that feels strangely right. Maybe it's only because it's been over a month since she's last seen Walsh, but she's never been the type to let her loneliness get the better of her, particularly not when it came to men.

Any vague hope she might have had for the kiss being magical, however, is dashed. Nothing changes, as much as a small part of her had almost believed that it might.

The kiss breaks a moment later, apropos for the occasion. Briefly, she's too hung up on the kiss itself to realize that he'd slipped something into her hand, but she quickly regains her senses, reaching with one hand to carefully grab hold of his wrist and lower the arm attached to his hook. She holds the vial up between the pair of them, seeing the brilliant blue of its contents for the first time as she does so.]

What's this?

Edited 2018-02-19 16:48 (UTC)

[He'd be lying if he said that it didn't sting – her pulling away so quickly, and moving his hook out of her hair. He'd have lingered a moment longer if it weren't for her separating them as fast as she did, and for a moment, his breath catches in his throat. He didn't dare forget the rush of adrenaline he felt the first time their lips met, or what it had revealed, but there's a frightening reminder that's come with this one.

Killian swallows hard and his glazed over eyes move first to the vial, then to Emma's face to watch her expression.]

... A memory potion. Regina made it. If you drink it, it will return everything you've lost.

[She feels the faintest twinge of guilt for the expression that crosses his face, and that's new for her, as well. She's not used to getting sentimental over men she's known for ages, let alone ones she just met, but she focuses on the vial instead rather than letting herself dwell. Her brow furrows slightly, disbelieving, but the look she shoots him afterwards is questioning.]

A memory potion. Just like that?

[She grimaces, just slightly.]

How do I know it's not poison?

[Killian moves half a step away from her and gestures to the potion in her hand with a very matter-of-fact shake of his head.]

Oh, you don't.

[He's not even the least bit surprised that it was the first thing she went for. What reason would she have to believe him anyway, other than to take all of the things he's told her to heart? That still doesn't prove anything, and he knows that, which is why he gives her an assuring nod in hopes that it'll ease her doubt a little.]

Faith, love. [And...] Why would I hand you a vial of poison?

[Of course, her first response was and always would be skepticism. Her inability to trust runs deep, and as much as some part of her wants to believe in the best in people, life has taught her exactly how foolish that is. Her grimace remains, but there's a bit more humor to it now as she closes her fingers around the vial and tucks it away into her palm.]

Faith.

[She almost laughs, but not quite.]

I don't know. Why do serial killers do what they do? Kiss or no kiss, I still don't really know you.

[Except a part of her now feels like that's decidedly untrue. After all, he knows her.]

[NYE Party] happy new year and lots of fun

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