✨💐 more Spring Gala ✨💐
I’ve been so bad at keeping up with posting these, which is a shame cuz I’ve made a lot
As always, Aqua : @captain-cappie
Big thanks to Cappie for also helping me write out this little…fuckin…vignette(?) below the cut . Nebulously placed sometime before session 0 ✨
It hadn't been a for sure thing that they would end up at this Gala. Sting's ship had just docked in port that afternoon, and the crew given leave for the next two days.
It had been a pleasant surprise to be greeted by a familiar face, they never fully had the guarantee that they'd meet up again quickly when they parted ways for work. But Aqua had come bounding up to him on the docks, smile wide on her face as she grabbed his arm as if six weeks of seperate travels had been a mere six minutes.
"Oh thank fuck," she says in lieu of a hello.
He's used to her antics by now and just wraps one of his arms around her shoulders in a side hug.
"Any longer and I'd have had to spend the night with Cahwel," she sneers.
He hums seriously, looking down at her as she begins dragging him towards town.
"I'm honored," he deadpans, though the corner of his mouth ticks up.
"There's a gala," she explains with a flourish of her free hand as she steers him through the streets. "Exclusive. Invite only. Ask me how I got in!"
He humors her and Aqua chatters away as she leads him to a cheery tavern and shoves him straight upstairs. He hears a few greetings he imagines are from fellow sailors he's worked with before and he manages a quick wave before Aqua bullies him into the room at the end of the hall.
"We have hours, " she stresses as she closes the door behind them. "And you need to match this."
She points to a dress hanging on the other side of the room, and he suddenly feels like hours won't be enough. It's a very nice dress, and he can honestly say he doesn't have anything even slightly comparable to it. He lets out a low whistle as he looks it over.
"Well then, I hope you have something to work with," he muses as he turns back to her. "Otherwise you'll have to call Cawhel."
"What do you think I am, an amateur?" she replies with a self satisfied smirk as she tosses a pack on the bed. "I have your fancy closet here."
He tosses his own pack down on the other side of the bed and watches as she starts throwing various garments out of her bags. He finds himself wondering for the millionth time since they've met where she manages to keep it all.
She pulls out a few loose yards of fabric, and he suddenly gets an idea.
"Give me that one," he says, pointing to the one that landed on the headboard.
It's blue, with a pink gradient and a cross weave that is patterned to look like the ripple of light of the surface of water. It will do perfectly.
"Cut this here," he instructs.
In a few minutes he's in the washroom, folding the fabric in familiar patterns that take almost no conscious thought on his part. He swallows the sudden intense bout of longing that lodges itself in his throat as he straightens everything out and steps back into the room.
Aqua perks up as he reenters. She gives him a once over before her eyes get a gleam in them and she dives for her bag again.
"Stand there," she orders. "Don't move."
She begins sewing it in place on him, adding petal details and small beads to the shoulder and end of his sabai to match her dress. He meditates while she works, keeping his awareness enough that he can follow directions to turn when needed.
Eventually, he's declared done, and Aqua sets in to do his hair and makeup for him. He lets her without fuss, eyes constantly roaming to his own pack as she weaves strings of sea glass beads into his braids.
In the end, while she gets into her dress, he pulls the jewelry from the bottom of his pack. He hasn't worn them since surfacing, but...they feel right tonight.
When she exits, they both pause and take long look at each other. He can see the question she's fighting not to ask. But this whole thing they have works precisely because they don’t do that, so she refrains and continues on to pick out her own accessories.
They are fashionably late, and absolutely not because Aqua took forever to finish getting ready despite being the one with the finished outfit.
They arrive, and as expected, Aqua slots into place like she belongs here. They're surrounded by plenty of attendees. He begins to feel a bit claustrophobic with all the people around him, leaning in to try and converse with them.
He's also horrible at small talk.
It's not until Aqua speaks up that he realizes what's actually going on.
“Sorry people," she declares, squeezeing his upper arm. "But his dance card is already filled, by me.”
And with that, she successfully extracts him from the crowd and pulls him towards the dance floor.
Bewildered, he follows without much resistance. They fall into rhythm, dancing more formally than they usually do, though if Aqua is surprised he knows how, she does not comment on it.
"What's a dance card?" he asks, brow furrowed as she prompts him to spin her.
“Don’t worry about it, Weather Boy," she teases as she spins back into him. "Just dance with me. Unless you want to get thrown back into the sea of people?"
He looks back at her arched brow, meeting her empty challenge with a deadpan response.
"I'll stay where I'm better acquainted."
There's a pause before their faces crack and they both burst out laughing. They fully relax into each other, and while this definitely isn’t how he thought his night would end up, Sting can’t really find it in him to complain.
