A NIGHT TO REMEMBER
Location: Ballroom
Wearing: X
Equipment: Lightsaber
Tags:
Ivalyn Yvarro
The way Ivalyn smiled in response to his words and touch could not have prepared him for her decision to pull away from him in the next moment. A thing that had Rik staring after her, at once feeling the urge to pull her back in, but that she stíll held on quelled it, and the questioning look he cast in her direction found an answer in how she beckoned him to follow, leading him away from the floor by his hand.
It was unlike the company he had with various women in his adult life. No, this beckoned to something older, more entrenched in his psyche, and surrounded with soft fuzz and light cast on it by the distance of time. Back when he was only a boy, having learned to dance at the insistent direction of his noble great-grandmother, and going on to test out that newfound skill - albeit a tad nervously - on girls at societal events he hadn't attended since Jedi training had begun to take a more prominent place in his life; how some girls, innocent he and they all were, made a point to express their appreciation in honest words. And one of them being the first girl to press a soft peck to his cheek.
How
distinctly the memories came to him as they stepped off the dance floor, such that the bend of his mouth took on a fond quality, his brow creasing curiously for a scant moment - why
now was he reminded? He hadn't thought of such things in years. But when he resettled his attention on Ivalyn as she began to meander through what she had to say, he could only look at her and smile just as warmly. His words directed back at him like a question, answered with the flush of her cheeks.
Ivalyn wasn't the only one who was charmed.
Being introduced to the boy he had spotted with her at the outset answered one of the countless wonderings that had formed in his thoughts over this too short a time. A nephew. Though he could tell the boy scrutinized him, Rik simply gave Iskendyr a short and shallow incline of his head in greeting while listening to Ivalyn continue on, perhaps a little flustered - he seemed to have that effect at times - while laying out her reasoning for giving him her direct contact.
She wasn’t any less beautiful, even as she started to ramble; to say he had become captivated over the speck of time they’d spent in each other’s company was apt, such that the full impact of her words as she handed him the slip of paper with her contact wouldn't fully hit him until he was left with himself to think the night over. The absence of her hand in his, his arms around her…
that would set in much faster. It was already starting to.
“It was--,” he started to agree when she said her first not-goodbye, momentarily given pause by her nephew’s awkward whisper; he continued, his voice bearing a measure of disbelief,
“--an unexpected pleasure.”
Truly it was. She gave her last parting words as her nephew pulled her insistently away, and he raised his hand in acknowledgement and reciprocation, wordless, soundless until she gave the classical hand signal for a
phone, prompting a bemused look on his face until she mouthed the two words that went along with it. At this he could only crack the start of a grin before she stepped out of view, which was the point he fell into a low and initially somewhat bewildered laugh despite himself, without a single care about any attention he might draw; this went on for the better part of a minute, becoming an honest chuckle that tapered off, the Corellian becoming quiet as he returned to the piece of paper in his hand.
Rik studied the flow of her writing, his thumb running over the script.
“Ivalyn Yvarro, huh?” He uttered softly.
A note held in the same hand she had last held; he could feel almost a faint impression of her fingertips burned into his palm. He blew out a heavy sigh as the sensation of their meeting began to gain a sort of weightiness, as reality started to creep in... that is, until he elected to do what he could to stave it off a little longer, and savour all that the evening had ignited in him. Rik then wandered onward in search of something stronger than what was being ported around by the service staff to cap the night off, entering her contact details into his personal comm as he went. Not at all minding that he hadn’t succeeded in what he’d come here for, in the first place; the time, after all, hadn’t been wasted.
Not in the slightest.
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