AJS Roleplaying
Returning veteran
- Joined
- May 24, 2025
- Location
- The Emerald Isle
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A HELPING HAND
A Roleplay Brought to You By: |
Adrian Wolfe written by AJS Roleplaying |
Delilah (Lilah) Hayward written by Kita-san |
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A Helping Hand (AJS Roleplaying x Kita-san)
- Thread starter AJS Roleplaying
- Start date
OP
OP
AJS Roleplaying
Returning veteran
- Joined
- May 24, 2025
- Location
- The Emerald Isle
Adrian didn't let go of Delilah's hand when the music came to its sudden, staccato halt. Around them, other couples pulled apart - some laughing, others breathless and flushed with the lingering thrill of movement. The small crowd clapped enthusiastically for the musicians, who grinned beneath a veil of sweat and the fading golden hour light. The air still buzzed with the rhythm, residual pulses of energy echoing in Adrian's blood. But through it all, her hand remained in his. He hadn't meant to hold it so long. He hadn't planned to. It had simply… happened. And now, with fingers intertwined like a closing loop, he realized just how reluctant he was to break contact.
There was something about the shape of her hand in his - something inexplicably complete. As though his palm had been waiting all along for this exact shape to fill it. There were thousands of explanations he could have given himself for that feeling - neural chemistry, mild infatuation, the high of dancing. But none of them would've come close to describing the calm that settled over him just from the weight and warmth of her hand. It was too simple to be rational. Too quiet to be denied.
He turned to her then, still tethered by touch, and gave a half-smile that barely masked the thoughts flickering just beneath the surface. "That was fun. Now excuse me for a moment. I need to use the bathroom. Meet you back here?"
He saw her nod from the corner of his eye, already beginning to look back toward the square where dancers still lingered, partners swapping out for new rounds. But he didn't head toward the restroom as he'd said. His stride curved away once he was out of her line of sight, slipping through the press of people with practiced ease, his thoughts focused now on something entirely different - something he hadn't allowed himself to decide on until the very moment his feet started moving. The jewellery stall.
They had stopped there earlier, both of them slowing without speaking, their attention snagged by the soft gleam of gemstones and the delicate glint of fine metalwork. He remembered how she'd hovered in front of one particular display—hesitant, but undeniably drawn. She hadn't touched anything. Just stood there, eyes tracing the lines of a necklace and then a ring, gaze lingering a beat too long to be accidental. She hadn't said a word about wanting them, hadn't tried anything on. But Adrian had seen it. The way desire can live quiet and careful in a person's expression. Not the loud, hungry kind that wants to possess, but something more private. A longing that doesn't even admit itself aloud.
He wasn't sure what made him care so much about that brief moment, or why the memory of her gaze kept circling in his head like a haunting. Maybe it was the way her stillness had felt louder than any words. Or maybe it was that - just for a moment - he'd caught a glimpse of something unguarded in her.
When he reached the stall, he was half-expecting disappointment. But the pieces were still there. Waiting. As though they'd been left behind just for him. The necklace was simple, but impossibly elegant - a slender gold chain anchored by a tear-shaped opal. The stone shimmered with pale iridescence, its colours subtle, shifting like mist behind glass: hints of blue, lavender, even the softest green. It wasn't a bold piece. It didn't clamour for attention. It carried a quiet sort of magic, like it held within it a secret that refused to stay still. Something like Delilah herself. The ring beside it was no less compelling - its band twisted delicately, almost organically, into a vine-like pattern that curled around a single oval-cut stone. A pink tourmaline, luminous and understated, its hue both romantic and restrained. It looked like it belonged on a hand that never made loud declarations, but held truths in the gentlest of grips. A hand like hers.
Adrian didn't hesitate. He asked the vendor to wrap both items carefully. The man obliged with the grace of someone who had seen this kind of thing before, and knew better than to speak into it. Once the little paper bag was folded and sealed, Adrian slipped it into the pocket of his jacket and offered only a nod in thanks. Later. He'd give them to her later. Not now, not here. There was something sacred about the moment that was coming, and he wanted to protect it from the noise, the crowd, the casualness of the market. A small offering, yes - but one that meant more to him than he could easily say. It wasn't just about the jewellery. It wasn't even about impressing her. It was about wanting to be the person who noticed. Who remembered. Who gave, simply because something about her deserved to be adorned.
By the time he made his way back, the crowd had thickened again, the heat of summer pressing gently against the skin. Delilah stood a short distance from where he had left her, her posture still relaxed, watching as a new pair took to the impromptu dance floor. There was something magnetic about the way she existed in space, not commanding attention but quietly holding it, as if the world bent around her rather than the other way around. Adrian let himself linger a second longer before stepping close again. He felt the weight of the hidden gift in his pocket, the softness of anticipation blooming inside him, rich and unrushed. There was time. No need to rush this.
He let the smile return to his lips - unforced, easy, touched with something private and new.
"So," he said, catching her eye, "where to next? Or... do you want to keep dancing?"
There was something about the shape of her hand in his - something inexplicably complete. As though his palm had been waiting all along for this exact shape to fill it. There were thousands of explanations he could have given himself for that feeling - neural chemistry, mild infatuation, the high of dancing. But none of them would've come close to describing the calm that settled over him just from the weight and warmth of her hand. It was too simple to be rational. Too quiet to be denied.
He turned to her then, still tethered by touch, and gave a half-smile that barely masked the thoughts flickering just beneath the surface. "That was fun. Now excuse me for a moment. I need to use the bathroom. Meet you back here?"
He saw her nod from the corner of his eye, already beginning to look back toward the square where dancers still lingered, partners swapping out for new rounds. But he didn't head toward the restroom as he'd said. His stride curved away once he was out of her line of sight, slipping through the press of people with practiced ease, his thoughts focused now on something entirely different - something he hadn't allowed himself to decide on until the very moment his feet started moving. The jewellery stall.
They had stopped there earlier, both of them slowing without speaking, their attention snagged by the soft gleam of gemstones and the delicate glint of fine metalwork. He remembered how she'd hovered in front of one particular display—hesitant, but undeniably drawn. She hadn't touched anything. Just stood there, eyes tracing the lines of a necklace and then a ring, gaze lingering a beat too long to be accidental. She hadn't said a word about wanting them, hadn't tried anything on. But Adrian had seen it. The way desire can live quiet and careful in a person's expression. Not the loud, hungry kind that wants to possess, but something more private. A longing that doesn't even admit itself aloud.
He wasn't sure what made him care so much about that brief moment, or why the memory of her gaze kept circling in his head like a haunting. Maybe it was the way her stillness had felt louder than any words. Or maybe it was that - just for a moment - he'd caught a glimpse of something unguarded in her.
When he reached the stall, he was half-expecting disappointment. But the pieces were still there. Waiting. As though they'd been left behind just for him. The necklace was simple, but impossibly elegant - a slender gold chain anchored by a tear-shaped opal. The stone shimmered with pale iridescence, its colours subtle, shifting like mist behind glass: hints of blue, lavender, even the softest green. It wasn't a bold piece. It didn't clamour for attention. It carried a quiet sort of magic, like it held within it a secret that refused to stay still. Something like Delilah herself. The ring beside it was no less compelling - its band twisted delicately, almost organically, into a vine-like pattern that curled around a single oval-cut stone. A pink tourmaline, luminous and understated, its hue both romantic and restrained. It looked like it belonged on a hand that never made loud declarations, but held truths in the gentlest of grips. A hand like hers.
Adrian didn't hesitate. He asked the vendor to wrap both items carefully. The man obliged with the grace of someone who had seen this kind of thing before, and knew better than to speak into it. Once the little paper bag was folded and sealed, Adrian slipped it into the pocket of his jacket and offered only a nod in thanks. Later. He'd give them to her later. Not now, not here. There was something sacred about the moment that was coming, and he wanted to protect it from the noise, the crowd, the casualness of the market. A small offering, yes - but one that meant more to him than he could easily say. It wasn't just about the jewellery. It wasn't even about impressing her. It was about wanting to be the person who noticed. Who remembered. Who gave, simply because something about her deserved to be adorned.
By the time he made his way back, the crowd had thickened again, the heat of summer pressing gently against the skin. Delilah stood a short distance from where he had left her, her posture still relaxed, watching as a new pair took to the impromptu dance floor. There was something magnetic about the way she existed in space, not commanding attention but quietly holding it, as if the world bent around her rather than the other way around. Adrian let himself linger a second longer before stepping close again. He felt the weight of the hidden gift in his pocket, the softness of anticipation blooming inside him, rich and unrushed. There was time. No need to rush this.
He let the smile return to his lips - unforced, easy, touched with something private and new.
"So," he said, catching her eye, "where to next? Or... do you want to keep dancing?"