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The seasons were changing, and there was a biting chill that threatened the air. It wasn’t enough to keep the guests of the Academy fundraising dinner from wandering outside, but it bated most to reach for coats and shawls. Anya, however, found the cold a welcome reprieve from the stuffiness inside the ballroom. Even if she was starting to shiver.
She stood on a balcony, her hands wrapped around her bare arms as she watched the stars begin to emerge on the horizon. The sun had long since set, but her eyes were adjusting to the dark. One by one, she watched them glitter with fervence – she made it a game to point out to herself which points of light were actually stars, and which were planets. Planets don’t twinkle, they’re constant sources of immovable light. And if she stared just long enough, she could make out the color of each point of light: some were red, some were blue, some planets were yellow. She smiled to herself, contemplating existence beyond her own.
“Are you bored?” She heard a familiar voice call out from behind her.
Anya started and turned to see Viktor making his way towards her onto the balcony. He had his cane in one hand, and the other in his pocket.
Her smile widened and they shared a mutual chuckle. “I don’t like parties.”
“They are repetitive,” he admitted and settled beside her.
She looked behind him in the distance, towards the open door – others were mingling, with soft murmurs of buoyant conversation that could be heard echoing off the marble walls outside. It was all bland and grey, despite the colorful frocks and expensive jewellry. There were no points of light to focus on, no twinkling, no thoughts besides carefully traded words. “Won’t you be missed?” she asked, unenvious of his responsibility to represent the Academy.
He cast a doubtful expression and turned to watch the party. “I doubt it,” he shrugged. “There is little I can contribute that differs from what Heimerdinger and the others have to say.”
She scoffed and eyed him. “That’s not true.”
“...That the guests would appreciate,” he clarified.
She laughed. “I don’t mind being a captive audience to anything you have to say. Especially about your work, about your projects.”
It had been six months since Viktor had reconnected with Anya – who had more than graciously given him patronage and funding for his own personal projects. In that time he had also met the like-minded inventor, Jayce, with whom he had become fast friends. Between them both, Viktor had considered himself lucky – happy, even – to have people who shared his interests, who understood how he thought and spoke.
“You are cold,” he said, watching as her fingers trembled against her skin. Her species was acclimated to a hotter climate, accounted for in their cultural dress. She wore a soft pink, half sheer dress with a small train that gathered at her feet; it draped off her shoulders and left most of her upper arms and decolletage bare. He regretted that he had no coat to give her.
She looked up at him, her cheeks and the tip of her nose beginning to shine a rosy color; her hands rubbed against her arms to garner warmth. Quietly, she stepped closer to him, brushing herself against his side.
Viktor made no effort to move. He cupped a hand against the back of her shoulder, careful not to lay a finger on her sacred hair; though it had been wrapped in a sheer veil since the incident six months ago. “Don’t you prefer to go inside?”
Anya sighed and looked behind them again – the mindless shuffling of people who regarded each other in little opinion above monetary value. “I would rather be cold,” she looked up at him and chuckled.
He suppressed a laugh and stroked his thumb against her.
“I feel safe here. With you,” Anya said. Her voice hesitated for a fraction of a moment, and she wondered if he found her a fool.
Viktor’s eyes fell captive on her, examining her – searching for any sign of humor or teasing. Women had never been kind to him, they never gave him a second glance. Anya was his friend – this he knew. But still, he wondered. The thought that she would toy with him was almost too much to bear.
Her gaze didn’t leave him, and the longer he remained silent, the quicker she found herself a fool. She was about to break her sight from him, when she felt the warmth of his fingers caressing the side of her face.
Viktor realized, in that moment, he hadn’t felt safe anywhere – or with anyone. He lived with the constant fear and pressure that all he had worked for would be taken from him; that he would fall from the favor of those around him, that his menial success would be short lived, transient. But Anya had been his friend in childhood, and his friend now. With her, he felt safe. Seen.
She leaned closer as his thumb graced the edge of her jaw.
He bowed to her and brushed his nose against hers – she was cold and harsh against his warmth. He dragged his lips against her skin, until they found hers; and gently, he placed a kiss upon her. A wave of delight pulsed through him as he felt her return the gift. He parted only for a moment to find the softness of her eyes – warm and brilliant, stars themselves. They begged him, continue.
His lips rested on hers again, where he gave her small, languid pecks. His hand caressed her arm as he worked his way towards her cheek and jaw – her skin was soft and delicate, she smelled of sweet fruit and precious wood oil. He stroked his face against hers, rolling his head to rest on her brow; he kissed both her eyes and placed another on her mouth. And another on her cheek, and another on her jaw.
Anya rolled her head, granting him permission to trail downwards her neck. Gentle kisses fell onto her throat like soft flower petals, where his breath warmed her from the inside. Her body shivered at the feeling of cold to sudden hot.
He touched her with reverence, each brush of his lips begging entreaty for the next – as if he were saying a prayer. Her hands tangled among his collar and his vest, clinging to the fabric she could reach as he tenderly pressed into her.
Viktor’s hand strayed only to the curve of her side, where it rested above her hip; his fingers massaging the comfort of her figure. He could feel her pulse as he gently graced his tongue across her throat – slower than a human’s, yet quickened for the kind she was – he felt her breath stop as he kissed her vein. Her hands dug into him, but she made not a sound. His body ached that he could bring her to rapture, but it would neither cooperate with his passions, nor his desires.
Yet, even if his body had not been maimed by the effects of his childhood illness, her kind took only one lover for the long centuries of their lives. He knew he would not survive the lifespan of his own species, much less Anya’s. To indulge his longing, despite his love for her, would be nothing more than selfish cruelty.
His mouth rested on her bare shoulder – now warmed by his breath and by her own desire. He trailed his hand up her figure and where it found its way against the thin sleeve of her dress. Again, he speckled her with soft kisses, before his brow rested on the edge of hers, his eyes closed, his breath held. There was no more heart within him to look her in the eye.
Her hands wound along his neck, where light sweat had gathered from the heat underneath his collar. Without him speaking, she knew the thoughts that had crossed his mind – they haunted her, also.
Still, he nestled his nose against hers, and reached to touch his lips upon hers once more, stopping short of her. He waited there, waiting to see if she would answer his call, waiting to see if he was the only one who felt so strongly.
“You are trembling,” she said.
He took a sharp breath in, and shook his head once, unconvincingly. “I am cold.”
She smiled. “No you’re not.”
A dampened smile pulled at him, and he kept his sights from her eyes. “No, I am not.”
Anya had no words to offer him, the same fear inside of him had stirred itself in her, and she struggled to keep it at bay. Her thumbs stroked the edges of his face as her hands lay cupped against his neck. He wouldn’t look at her, but she wished he would. Viktor always had such gentle eyes – full of warmth and curiosity. Even when he was in pain, they were kind.
She reached and met his lips one more time. Deeper this time, desperate, and full of foolish hope – that two hundred years from now, she would remember exactly the way he kissed her. That when his life had disappeared, as a star fades from the night sky, she would remember exactly where to look to find him within her heart.
Viktor clasped her shoulder and sought for even a taste of her – grateful for such a taste of her sweetness, no matter how small, and despite his hunger. He would never forget it.