[ E ] Instant Regrets

It was startling, almost, how quickly regret could punch you in the gut. And wow, was it strong. Victorian felt as if a large rabbit had whacked his belly, and yet not a thing had touched me. No, he had done the touching, and that made it all the worse. For once, the roles had been reversed. Victorian was not swatting away the pesky fly that had buzzed around his ears, flashing flirtatious smiles and musing over innuendos. Rather, Victorian had taken matters into his own hands. With liquid confidence in his system, he had taken the opportunity to try and prove to Ace that this game was silly—that he wasn't bemused by it and that it didn't phase him, hell he could even do it too!

But... he was phased by it. It did bother him. And any wine-driven confidence that made him try to "retaliate" quickly withered when he so those dual colored eyes.

"Nevermind," was the immediate word that left his fumbling lips. With a curt nod—as if he was bidding Ace farewell after talking about the weather—Victorian turned to scramble back to safety.

---

VICTORIAN COAX

spring — year 1708 — redwood

@Ace

Some things had been swirling in his mind when he first entered the festival and they spoke of love and celebration. Love, well, he never really experienced that. Not the kind that ever made him want to settle down and start a family. But once and a while, the butterfly in his chest wakes up and he can feel it fluttering around in there. Usually of course, that's when he thinks of Vic.

So the man did come to mind when they told him what the kissing booth was. Did he believe in fate? Maybe. Maybe more so after the blindfold is removed and he sees those beautiful golden eyes staring back at him. Even with all the color in their pelts from the festival, they can always tell each other apart by their eyes.

The kiss only lasts for a moment and like a knife through his heart, he hears the man say, "Nevermind."

"No, no, wait, come back!" he calls, maybe a little too desperately. He had always been the one chasing men and women, he didn't do the chasing. It seems this festival is bringing out different sides in them both. "It was a lovely kiss. I won't tell anyone…" he trails off, not knowing where the man went now among all the bushes. His ears begin to droop as he starts to believe the man really is gone.

Maybe this had all been another dream and he'll soon wake up dazed and confused. Probably with some kind of hangover too.

"Speaking."

Ace Sinclair

{ Art & Table by Claerie } @Victorian

"No, no, wait, come back!"
The almost frantic call enters two, dark ears and races down his spine like fire, ruffling his fur and mixing with the anxiety in his stomach. Only later would he ponder on the out of character nature of Ace's call. It had not been smooth, like vanilla, or rich like chocolate. Rather, it had held an anxious tremor. Perhaps it was this dissonance that he hadn't yet processed that caused him to stop.

A stray branch brushed against his brow and a cluster of blackberries pressed against his hips. The berries had yet to ripen, they were just green and red. They shivered as he turned, peering through the leaves. Golden eyes refocused on the silvery face and the crestfallen expression, and at once Victorian felt... guilty.

He missed Ace's last words but he understood that feeling.

Whether it was angry or it was sad, it went hand in hand with having no control over the emotions that another caused.

Clicking his tongue, Victorian steeled his nerves and sighed. Why did you have to be so stupid? He berated himself internally. He had always thought of Ace as a man with a heart of steel, playing with emotions the way that a musician might tease piano keys. It had not occured to him that such flippance might just be... a gut reaction, a practiced mask.

"Don't look so sad," Victorian said at last, poking his nose out of the thicket of trees. "You don't look like yourself." A half-hearted smile sat upon his lips.

---

VICTORIAN COAX

spring — year 1708 — redwood

@Ace

Maybe it's silly for Ace to feel this longing, this sadness. Sure, they danced at the Ball, but their time had been cut short by all the chaos from the party crashers. Even then, had there really been a spark? Or had Ace been imagining it?

He starts to feel scared and a little embarrassed. He had never been the type to get so hung up on one wolf. He's the king of one night stands, the equivalent of not calling back on a first date, he's not capable of falling in love. He's not capable of commitment.

And yet.

What is this turning into?

Even Vic seems to notice how unlike Ace he's being. When Ace hears the man's voice again, he can feel his heart flutter and his cheeks get warm.

"I uh- well I just didn't want you to have to miss out on all the fun. After all, our dance got cut short last time…" he replies, inching a little closer to Vic with pleading puppy-like eyes. "Care to pick up where we left off?"

He steps back to gesture at the open space between the bushes, just enough room for them to casually dance together. There isn't any music, but they can make their own tune with the beat of their hearts and the sound of their voice.

There is something screaming in his mind, asking himself why he's letting himself do this. His heart races at the danger of all this. He could fall so hard that he is burned in the end and it could feel worse than any rejection he's gone through before.

But he can't help himself.

"Speaking."

Ace Sinclair

{ Art & Table by Claerie } @Victorian