đ˛ (Your choice of Thrasir or Veronicaâ)
20. A rough kiss (kiss roulette || accepting!)
Sneaking someone like Thrasir onto academy grounds was far easier said than done. Even in the darkness of night, she stood out like a sore thumb-- maybe it was the glowing red goo that made up her body, who could say? Regardless, it was a task that could so easily jeopardize his place with the Knights of Seiros. Getting caught would almost certainly end in excommunication. There would be no returning to the monastery for him if he were found out. Not in this world, at the very least.
Unfortunately, that hadn't stopped Alfonse. For better or for worse, he was determined to help her however he could. Maybe it was some misplaced compassion (or perhaps pity) for her. Somewhere in there was a sliver of his friend living on inside Thrasir. He had to imagine Veronica's preexisting loneliness hadn't gotten any better after the tragedy that befell her world. If this could help her open up, help her grow as a person, help her find some smidgeon of happiness, it would be worth it.
The sound of distant footsteps caused Alfonse's head to whip around. Someone was about to come around the corner. He'd hoped this place would have been secluded enough that nobody would bother them in the dead of night, but clearly, he had been wrong. He needed a way to hide Thrasir from view, or at the very least, dissuade whoever was approaching from actually paying much attention to them. His body could theoretically manage it, especially with his father's fluffy cloak making his figure all the broader. Getting close to Thrasir like that was likely a death sentence. Besides, how could he cover her without it looking suspicious?
...He could think of one way.
There was no time to consider other options. Alfonse practically threw himself atop Thrasir, mumbling a quick apology before his lips crashed gracelessly into hers. He peered down the hallway out of the corner of his eyes as best he could, both to keep an eye out for whoever was approaching and because he couldn't bring himself to actually look Thrasir's way. Even though it was just a momentary ruse, Alfonse's inexperience managed to shine through. He was clumsy and tactless, moreso smashing his face into hers than actually approaching with the gentle passion one might expect of a kiss. At the very least, there was no denying that some kind of emotion drove it. His heart was certainly racing, though perhaps not for the typical reason.
The footsteps stopped for a second, and Alfonse could only pretend he didn't notice. He drew his father's thick cloak tighter around Thrasir, doing his best to look as though it was only him being absorbed in the throes of their passion. He had managed to wedge himself perfectly in between the pathway and where Thrasir stood so that whoever was approaching would be almost entirely blocked from seeing her, save for a few glimpses of the edge of her figure-- her shoes, her hair, maybe even part of her head, but little else. She wouldn't look suspicious... well, not any more than a couple of amorous fools sneaking out at night to share a moment alone already did.
The footsteps began once more, quickly heading in the direction from which they had originally come. Only then did Alfonse release Thrasir from his grasp, a heavy sigh leaving his body. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that they were indeed alone once more. Crisis had been averted... or one crisis had, at the very least. He had a sneaking suspicion that this had caused a different one to brew. He wasn't sure what expression he expected to see upon Thrasir's face, but he had little doubt it wasn't going to be good by any means.
"I-I apologize again," Alfonse mumbled, sheepishly stepping back from the witch. "I wasn't sure how to-- I thought it would be less suspicious if they thought we were-- I didn't want you to get caught."
It had worked. Surely that was explanation enough, right?
