Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Chocolate Kisses

"Catch you all later!" Neiro waved before ducking out of the door and disappearing into the hall.

"Don't tarry." Silas barely glanced up from his screen. This particular case was a study venturing into generating Time anomalies.

He entwined his hands, eyes darting across the text of the screen.

This was going nowhere. It didn't make any sense.

When he went into the astral pods, and returned it was like Time hadn't.

Did the pods unintentionally preserve the body? Perhaps what he had, by a fluke, created a Time capsule of sorts.

But it still didn't explain--oh. His tea was cold.

Silas stood, "Would you like something?"

"Uh, what's available."

"Tea, tea, tea, and tea. And cookies."

She gave a barking laugh, "Tea it is. And cookies."

"Excellent taste."

She snorted, "I can't tell how serious you are with that monotone."

"I assure you I am perfectly serious." He smiled, already in the kitchen.

"... 'kay now I know you're messing with me."

"I know not what you mean." The Invalid chuckled and pulled out a couple mugs and satchets of tea he had prepared.

He heard her climb up and pad over to the kitchen.

Oh?

But all playful banter stopped when she tapped him on the shoulder.

He obliged and was met with two hands on his either side of his face.

She held him gently, hands and eyes both, raising onto her toes to press her lips against his.

Unlike the Winter Festival party, there was no mistaking the meaning of this gesture.

She pulled away, face colored.

Slowly he drew back, speaking slowly, carefully, "... You know I'm too old for you. I'm old enough to be your sire."

It was the most gentle a tone as she had ever heard from him.

"... I know."

"You should be with someone young, and full of vigor."

She said nothing but the disappointment in the dark crimson of her eyes said enough.

Despite having anticipated this as the only outcome, the let down was still painfully difficult to bear.

She almost felt that it would've been less heartache had he brushed her off, or not taken her seriously.

Was it really just their age? Or was Silas just trying to let her down gently.

"But--" he tilted her head up, "Had I been a couple decades younger, I would be immensely flattered to have garnered such admiration from one of such as yourself. Many would covet the stalwart Heart that beats within you."

Esti smiled, pulling away, "Please Syras--"

The man grimaced at the pet name.

"--you don't need to mollycoddle me." She wouldn't stand for being patronised or, god forbid, pitied.

"If I needn't do so, I wouldn't do so. So worry not, because it's not."

She cupped a hand to his cheek, an intimate, warm, and loving touch that Silas could not claim to find familiarity in.

"You never gave me a straight answer. Do you like me?"

"It would be difficult not to."

Again he was dancing around, refusing a straight answer.

She grinned, "Oh is that how you want to play? Fine, I'll say it. Do you love me?"

But despite the toss of light-hearted banter, Silas knew it for the what it was.

"... The answer would be inappropriate." he glanced at the stove. "The water is finished boiling."

This Time there was no warning.

Pulling him down roughly, she kissed him again, simultaneously using her body to push him up against the pantry and effectively pinning the Invalid there.

She wouldn't let him get away from this. Not until she was given a clear answer.

The Invalid wasn't accustomed to such forceful advances.

Few had ever pursue him so adamantly.

He permitted her the kiss, but things had to stop.

And when they broke apart for air, he kept his face stern.

It was clarity enough, and this Time Esti backed away, cheeks aflame and head lowered.

"Please refrain from such contact again. It is inappropriate to harass in any manner."

She nodded, suddenly bashful, and disappeared from the kitchen without another word. It was frustrating how the Invalid was always able to do that. Make her feel like such a reckless child. Brash and thoughtless. 

She groaned to herself and slumped into the chair, crossing her arms over the desk and dropping her face onto the makeshift cushion.

Back in the kitchen, Silas sighed and pinched his nose.

When he returned to the main room, she was her upbeat self, albeit strained. She was trying too hard to smile.

He ignored it. Addressing it would just bring down the mood. It would be acknowledging what had transpired, and then neither of them would be able to ignore it.

She left at the end of the hour, but not before pressing a bag into his hands.

Without an explanation, she left.

Silas stared at the bag, feeling reluctant to open it. But he did so anyway, pulling out small pieces of chocolate stars.

More than a 5-star treat, to go with your tea!

--Estavia C.

Her jest brought a lopsided smile and the Invalid popped one in his mouth.

His eyes slipped shut at the creamy sweet texture with just a hint of zest. Orange perhaps?

Not the best he had, and less than subpar in comparison to most confections he had tasted

But somehow he was fond of it nonetheless.

It was definitely homemade, for the slightly uneven texture. Hand made too.

He would have to ask her for the recipe.

There was a warm hint of cinnamon, and a zest of orange.

Another piece was dark chocolate, marbled with white and freeze dried strawberry crumbles. It was heavenly.

Until he bit into a solid grit of chocolate that had seized.

Definitely handmade.

But he loved every bit of it.

He stored the bag in a glass jar in the pantry, far out of reach of Neiro's pantry raids and midnight snack runs.