[gravesend] it's coming up lavender

"No, it's not a poltergeist, I checked!" Senna called to Rheya's mother who gave her a tight but polite smile before sipping from her wine glass before Senna breezed past and back into the large living room. It was littered with people, drinking, chatting, laughing. The musician had come with her best friend and roommate Rheya to celebrate a family birthday and while there was a Happy Birthday banner and cake, it felt more like a house party, especially with the variety of people that were there too and the steady stream of people coming and going. Mr. H was a popular man, it seemed, and she smiled as she watched him roar in laughter, clapping another man on the back who almost spilled his drink.

Speaking of a drink, Senna flitted to what was functioning as the bar area and asked the cute witch behind the counter for the specialty cocktail. It was orange and fruity but had a punch and her eyes sparkled as she took a second sip. "Try this, it's delicious," she said as she tucked a piece of her silver hair behind one ear to the tall, broad-shouldered man who approached. He looked.. familiar or maybe it was just his aura that she liked - golden with punches of red throughout. It was magnetic.

"How do I know you," Senna said with an open smile as she gazed at him with curiosity in her eyes, her velvet and lace midnight blue dress swirling against her pale thighs as she moved to lean her back against the counter.

@Harlan Bellamy

Harlan wasn't much for parties.

Though for Hawkins, he figured, he would make an exception. The veteran Griffins player had become something of a mentor to him over the years— his personal barometer for all things Gravesend. He was harsh in his assessment of what Harlan meant to the people of the town, but rarely was he ever wrong. The man was as seasoned on the pitch as he was off it and Harlan genuinely appreciated his wisdom in both.

The night had gone off as painlessly as he could have hoped, though the number of kids running around was testing his patience. Ale helped, and he needed another.

Harlan made his way to one of the bars and nodded to the woman behind it appreciatively for another, before—

Try it? He looked from the glass back up to the stranger, transfixed. She had to be joking. "Erm," Harlan cleared his throat as the bottle of beer was pushed in his direction, quick to take a sip. "—No, thanks," He said belatedly, glancing around them for a sign of someone familiar. "I don't think you do..." He lied. If she were like anyone else there surely she knew him from the team.

She noted his glance at her glass and she offered it to him, holding it out to him if he wanted to try it, just like she would do for Rhey or Kai or really anyone else. Senna didn't mind sharing. She only shrugged a small shoulder in reply when he turned her down, her eyes still tracing her face as she took another sip, the tang of the cocktail tasting delicious.

"Hmmm, that's not true, is it," she mused as she tilted her head, her silver blonde hair falling over her shoulder as she studied him. "Oh!" she snapped and smiled at him. "You're the Captain, aren't you?" she asked as she recalled another trip to Gravesend she took recently with Rheya.

"Did you know there's a huge billboard with your face on it in town?" Senna asked with a perk of her brows. Honestly, if he was trying to hide from his famous name or what have you, he'd have to do a little better. Not that she was interested in the famous part per se. That shine had worn off a few years ago as she had toured and she had come to understand that fame wasn't really something she wanted.

But that didn't mean she wasn't curious about the Captain.

The woman behind the bar had gotten his drink— another mild tonic water— and he glanced over to the stranger with an expectant half-smirk on his face. He knew the process well. Usually, it was obvious when someone was being sincere in trying to place where they knew him from as opposed to playing it off, and this was no exception. He waited for the flicker of realization to hit, and right on time—

You're the captain, aren't you? Harlan quirked an eyebrow, his mouth in a harder line than before. What a loaded question that could be out of context. Though ultimately, he couldn't deny it. Not there, anyway.

"Hmm," He thought out loud after taking a measured drink from his glass. "You know, I hadn't noticed that," He teased, the unmistakable glint of mischief played over the deep silvery blues of his eyes. "Look, I try to avoid it if I can..." Harlan lowered his voice slightly and leaned toward her, a bit more seriously that time. He usually avoided anything that had to do with his fame, anyway.

"Harlan," He held out his hand. "Prefer that off the pitch..." He added good-naturedly. Even on the pitch most of the time he went simply by Bellamy. As he introduced himself it dawned on him that she herself looked familiar.

Quirk of a brow, a delayed response, her smile grew slowly as he turned playful and Senna felt herself warming to it. She always had liked golden auras, even if the red in his did make her cautious. But maybe it was curiosity more than anything. She nodded and waved a hand up, "Yeah it's huge, but guess I shouldn't be surprised to see you here with Mr. H and Kaelyn and all that."

She looked heavenward as he leaned closer and spoke of his fame. "Yes, I know, tortured by fame, just wanting to live a normal life," she said sympathizing with the story she had heard a million times from other artists. She didn't exactly have that same story, or at least not yet. Ollie and the band weren't that big, and at the very least, her name didn't have top billing so she wasn't sure she'd ever have that same sort of feeling, but she could understand it.

"Senna," she said introducing herself in turn as and fit her hand into his, her eyes lighting at the touch. Yes, golden, he was golden to her. "Harlan," she repeated, testing it, but then smiled impishly and shook her head. "I rather like calling you Captain," she told him. She flicked her eyes down to his hand where it felt rough and large compared to hers and she set her cocktail down on the bar before touching the back of his hand and turning his hand over gently, palm up.

"I bet you'd be a great read," Senna mentioned as she looked down at where she was sandwiching his hand with her own, wanting to read his palm. She knew it was a little forward, but she was curious. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time someone thought her odd so she was pretty immune to it. "Mind if I do?" she asked, flicking her gaze up to him.

Harlan scoffed good-naturedly at her comment regarding the inherent, and not to mention indulgent, woes of fame. The moment it was put back on him he became aware of how much of a prat his comment made him come across. More than that, how much of a prick it made him feel. He hated when other people complained about being afforded everything most people only dreamt of, and looking inwardly, he was no exception.

"It's a very tough life, isn't it?" His jaw tensed, hoping that the sarcasm in his tone was enough to convey how he felt to the stranger. He couldn't be sure why it mattered all that much to him what she thought, but there he was doing just that.

"Senna," Harlan repeated her name just as she had his, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth that had hardened into a line moment before. He watched her curiously as she studied ran her delicate fingers over the back of his hand like it was something she'd never seen before.

In any other case, he might have been alarmed, but there was something sincere about the way that she moved. Besides, he was trying to do anything in his power to distract himself from her comment about calling him captain. "Wha—" Harlan nearly spat out his water but reigned it in. Perhaps he had been too trusting after all. "Read my palm?" He confirmed though he already knew the answer.

This would be fun, he thought. "Yeah, go on then," Harlan pulled two of the barstools toward them and took a seat, holding his hand back out to Senna. "What deep secret do the wrinkles of my palm tell you about me?" He quirked an eyebrow, not hiding the fact that he was skeptical.

"Very tough," Senna replied, her tone light and playful. "Don't know how you survive it," she added, her honey eyes glittering with amusement, but also a touch of understanding. She wasn't making fun of him, really, but she also knew everyone had their own trials and troubles. His and others like him were just a little more public.

She nodded once at the sound of her name. She liked the way he said it, a little rough but flowing, like the wind. She wondered if she could remember seeing him specifically flying on the pitch at the last game she had attended. The players had all melded together for her, just blurs of burgundy and black on the pitch, but now she was curious to see him flying. To see him in his element.

Senna's shoulders lifted in the slightest hint of a laugh as she surprised him with her request, but she was patient, nodding earnestly at his question and tilting her head slightly. Her brows lifted in delight and she bit her lip, watching as he pulled barstools closer, her midnight and silver dress swishing against her pale legs as she sat before pulling his palm closer to her, his big hand cupped in both of hers, still slightly chilled from the cocktail she had been holding.

"You want me to tell the world about your deep, dark secrets?" Senna asked as she ran her fingers lightly over his palm, coaxing his fingers flatter so she could see the lines better. She traced the head line with one finger, a featherlight touch as she hummed a noise. "Head line," she explained as she studied the shape. "Yours is long so it means you're smart, but see how it curves? Maybe you overthink too much. But see how it's separate from the life line? It means you're independent."

Senna glanced up at him briefly to see his reaction so far, but couldn't resist adding a few more details. "Uh oh," she commented as she noticed something else. "See this here? Where the three lines cross on the head line? It means you might suffer a head injury. Might want to be careful on the pitch, captain. How am I doing so far?" she asked with a grin as she traced another line before reaching up to tuck a piece of silver hair behind her ear.

"Want me to tell you how many children you'll have.. or how many marriages?" she asked, grinning impishly as she met his golden gaze.

"No," Harlan answered succinctly, his gaze flicking up from his hand back to Senna, holding her eye. "Just me," He was fairly certain the room hadn't noticed them— there were bigger names than his on the private birthday party guest list, actual quidditch legends—  so the rest of the world was the least of his concerns. Despite the initial disbelief, there was a curiosity that she had sparked in him. And he was still trying to figure out what that meant.

As he settled into the chair he kept his eyes focused on her. On the one hand, he figured he was looking for any signs of bullshit, any indication that she was taking the piss, but on the other, he was genuinely intrigued. The truth was evident despite himself, and not that he would ever admit.

Harlan's gaze narrowed as she ran a finger lightly over the curvature of the inside of his palm, a shiver up his spine in return. He fought his eyes fluttering closed and instead focused intently on her question. His fucking lifeline. "Right," It didn't take a genius to ascertain his skepticism. It wasn't unlike astrology, he figured, people were desperate to find themselves in anything concrete. "Oh?" At her pause, a grin splayed over his features.

"Spot on..." He clicked his tongue, looking more closely to where she had traced his skin. If he were being honest, there were some truths to what she had said, but he was quick to remind himself that he was probably just lulled by the physical touch. "You can get all of that from the bloody lines on my hand?" He flexed it over her palms, clearly not convinced. "I don't buy it," He shook his head with a smirk.

Suddenly, he found himself after something stronger to drink. He nodded to the bartender for a beer after checking that Senna had a full one of her own. "Do I get to read yours, then?" He teased.

“Alright,” she agreed easily, unperturbed by his clipped answer. “Just you then,” she reassured him. She imagined he had his share of secrets, but so did everyone else, and she wasn’t here to out him for whatever darkness he was hiding. She just wanted to get a peek at it for herself. She was intrigued by people in that way.

Senna felt his gaze on her as she held his hands in hers and while it didn’t make her nervous or self-conscious, she did find herself shifting on the barstool. Uncrossing her legs and then crossing them the other way. But she could hear the skepticism in his tone and she wasn’t a stranger to it. “So I’m ‘spot on’ but you don’t believe any of it?” she asked  as she gave him an indulgent smile. Had she just been lucky with her guesses or did he not believe her because she wasn’t wearing a seer’s bedazzled robe and sitting in front of a crystal ball? Thinking of it though.. she would look badass in a seer’s robe. She’d have to get one.

Senna patted his hand as she met his gaze before she gave him back his hand and reached for her cocktail. “You know if I looked again at the center line, it’d probably say you’re skeptical. Just saying,” she told him, giving him a little smile before she took another sip, the ice clinking against the glass like chimes in the wind.

His question surprised her even though she knew she shouldn’t have been. Goldens always had that effect on her but she nodded and extended her right hand toward him, palm up. “Go on then, do your worst.”

"Not even for a second," Harlan countered, his eyebrow raised as his mouth pulled up into a smile. Senna's classification had given something of a pause despite himself. Though she could have said the same to anyone and they might have found their own truth in it, as he had, forget the fact that he was well known to be hard-headed and a former Ravenclaw. It was much easier, anyway, to chalk it up good research and a bit of vague luck.

As if to further prove his point, the witch mentioned the trait he'd just displayed— skeptical. What an astute observation, he figured "Oh, you think..?." He shook his head with a grin before bringing the fresh bottle of beer to his lips and pulling it back. He had been avoiding drinking over the last month but something in the air made him feel a bit lighter than usual. Like he was finally in a place for it.

He'd set his drink back down by the time that Senna had agreed, and at once Harlan was thankful he ordered it. "You sure about that?" He pretended to warn her as he straightened up, taking her hand and turning it over against his own to study it. Her skin was clear and soft, almost translucent under the light. "Alright, hmm," He took another sip for good measure, wiping his hand on the leg of his slacks before running it over her palm.

"You see this one?" Harlan lingered carefully over the most prominent crease that cut diagonally from below her pinky to the bottom of her index finger, using his thumb to run over it. What had she called that– a fucking lifeline? "It says..." He took a closer look for good measure. "Well it says you're full of shit," He teased, the grin pulling up at either corner of his mouth.

"'s fine," she said with a light shrug as she found herself smiling back at him. "I wouldn't expect someone like you to believe anyway," she told him with a serene smile. Senna found him interesting, but it's not like she hadn't met someone like him before. Hell, even Rhey was skeptical about her readings sometimes. But she just smiled at him and nodded at his tone. Sarcasm and skepticism. They felt like weapons he wielded often.

His hand felt warm against hers, rough and warm, zinging with an energy she couldn't quite place. "I'm sure," Senna said as she gazed at him, unabashedly unafraid of the challenge in his eyes. Maybe even welcomed it. She let him flip her hand over lightly, patient as he studied her palm, curious as to what he might see there.

She bit her bottom lip as she flicked her eyes down to his finger where he traced a line before glancing back up at him. And while she should have known better, she was surprised by his conclusion. She tittered into laughter, her hazel eyes sparkling with amusement as she slapped his hand and pulled away from him. "It does not," she countered, bemused. "You're incorrigible. You almost had me fooled though."

Senna smiled at him over her glass as she sipped before she realized they were doling out the cupcakes that replaced the usual birthday cake slices. "Ooh! Want one?" she asked as she uncrossed her legs, her midnight blue dress swirling around her legs as she had an instant sugar craving as she spied them.

"Someone like me?" Harlan repeated, doing his best to be offended despite the grin on his face as he traced the lines of her palm in what had been a quiet concentration before his disruption. He would have dramatically placed his hand to his chest if he wasn't so preoccupied with her own in both his. The grey of his eyes flicked up to Senna briefly, darker than usual in the lighting, as he shook his head. She didn't know him at all, but could he blame her either way?

As his faux-reading carried on, Harlan weighed his options; he could either really try and trick her or just go with his instinct and catch her off guard. Eventually, the latter won out and her reaction was satisfying enough to know that he'd chosen correctly. The slap on his has hand was missed in the flurry of laughter and for a moment even he surprised himself with the lightness of it all.

It was one of the first times in the weeks leading up that he allowed himself that luxury.

"You actually believed that?" Harlan was amazed. For someone so well versed in the world of other worlds, had she really not seen that coming? "It did say it, just there," He tapped her hand, then paused at the change of topic. His eyes slid over to where she'd indicated— the birthday cake. "I'm alright, thanks," He nodded with as much appreciation as he could possibly muster. Sweets had never done much for him. Most of them, anyway.

"I'm open-minded," she told him, giving him a bemused look before narrowing her gaze playfully. "Unlike somebody." She liked that he hadn't had any hesitation about it though, he was funny. Big, bad quidditch player who hadn't wanted to talk to her was funny. Senna glanced down as he tapped her hand and just shook her head at him, smiling widely. She flicked his hand lightly and slid off the bar stool. "And for that, I'm eating your cupcake," she said before she flitted away. She was going to have two cupcakes anyway whether he had wanted his or not, let's be real. Sen had always had her priorities straight: dessert first, then dinner.

But she was back at his shoulder a few moments later, nudging him. "Grab those and follow me? I want to show you something," she told him with a nod toward a couple of beers, a cupcake on two small white china plates balanced in each hand. She stopped in the doorway, partygoers circling around them, as she glanced back at him, brows perked, waiting with a smile. Senna nodded a bit before her smile grew as he followed her.

They winded through people, down hallways and through other rooms. Senna knew this place like the back of her hand, having spent so much time with Rheya here in her family home and while Mr. H had a room full of trophies and memorabilia that she knew the Captain might like, she wondered if it was a bit too on the nose for him. She instead she was headed here: the indoor pool. It was quiet and pleasantly vacant, the water sending ripples of light against the windows all around. In the daytime, it showed the Hawkinses perfectly manicured backyard, but right now it was just darkness and shadows. That was fine though because what Senna really wanted to show him was above them.

She sat down on one of the luxe lounge chairs by the pool's edge, crossing her feet at her ankles as she set one plate on her thighs and held the other in her hand as she started to unwrap the little paper around it. "C'mon Captain, look," she said as she nodded upwards. Above them was a living, breathing painting of stars and constellations swirling slowly through a night sky in deep blues and indigos and dark purples and it was beautiful. But of course, in Hawkins' fashion, there were quidditch players shooting across the sky like comets, wrangling stars like quaffles into their arms and flying with streams of stardust behind them.

"Nice, isn't it?" she asked as she took a piece of the cupcake and ate it and glanced over at him. "Thought you might like this," she added around a mouthful of sugary goodness. He didn't seem like the party type much, even if his aura was so golden.

He wasn't entirely sure why, but he followed without question, a beer in each hand, as Senna weaved through the crowd. His eyes narrowed when she glanced over her shoulder with a grin that he tried (and failed) to not mirror. The party was small enough, but there were enough people to create a bit of a sea as they made their way out of the sitting area where they had met at the bar.

The ease in which she ducked through the crowd, paving the way, was almost enviable. Harlan himself merely apologized, trudging after her like some kind of human giant who was sorry for his own presence that followed hers. "Alright, alright," He called over the hum of busy conversation. From what he knew of Senna, whatever she wanted to show him was bound to be interesting, at least.

"Hawkins will love this," Harlan commented as they moved through the halls with a purpose. He knew the man well enough to know that he was particular (not unlike Harlan). He was almost certain that Senna was taking him to that one balcony overlooking the grounds when she turned the corner toward an unfamiliar path. The corridor opened to a hall where a pool met them.

"Fuck," He breathed, not having noticed that she had already sat down. For a few moments, he was transfixed. The water was illuminated, dancing over the walls and leading to the ceiling he belated acknowledged her pointing out. It was a work of art.

"I've never seen this—" Harlan handed over her drink, eyeing the plates of cupcakes but not taking a seat. It wasn't that he expected to have seen it, but he was still taken aback. "What, you aren't going to swim?" He half expected her to have jumped right on in given her previous impulsiveness. He crouched at the edge of the pool to test the temperature— a comfortable warmth not too cool or hot— his fingers lingering at the surface as he glanced back to Senna.

"He won't mind a bit, Mr. H loves me," Senna had said to him, throwing a smile over her shoulder as he trudged down the hallway. For someone who hadn't believed a word she said about palm reading, she was pleasantly surprised when he had followed so easily. She liked that. And she especially appreciated his reaction. She knew he would like it and told him as much. "See? I already have you figured out," Senna added as she snacked on her cupcake and smiled over at him. So the palm reading had been hit and miss, but his reaction here was obvious.

Her gaze trailed over him, studying his expression as he took in the ceiling made art for the first time. It reminded her of the first time she had seen it, and that had been the same night she had begged Rhey to stay over at her parent's house and have a little slumber party right here, floating air mattress and all, charmed so neither one of them rolled off and into the water by accident, but it had been magical. She imagined it was the equivalent to a muggle water bed. Merlin, she needed to get one of those. Still, she thought it sweet the way he was gazing at the ceiling and the stars smiled back at him as the ripples of light from the water danced across his broad frame.

"So you're saying you don't often drop by for pool parties with Mr. H?" she asked with an impish grin as she finished off one of her cupcakes. It was so good she could hardly wait to eat the second. She was already unwrapping the paper off the second when she glanced up at his question, her brows raised. "You want to swim?" She glanced down at her dress, thinking first that she didn't have a bathing suit. Then again, what was a little water when she could dry herself off in seconds with a drying charm. She placed the second cupcake on the lounge as she swung her legs over and stood, light on her feet, as she neared the edge of the pool.

Senna stepped out of her shoes, placing a hand on his shoulder for balance as he crouched near the edge, and dipped her toe into the water as it lapped gently at the side. "Ooh, forgot how warm it is," she murmured as the water felt warm and inviting, not a shock at all to her system. She slid down so she was sitting next to him and slipped both feet into the water, the hem of her midnight blue dress just touching the surface. She slowly kicked her feet out, feeling the water move beneath her as she leaned back on her hands and tilted her head back to look up at the starry ceiling again. She had always liked this room at the Hawkinses the best.

"Can I ask you a question?" she started, tilting her head slightly towards the Captain, waiting for his answer before she asked the question on her mind. Senna had always liked getting to know others, what they think, what they love, what their passions are. There were times at parties where she started chatting up the staff or the doorman rather than the band execs they were supposed to be impressing because she found outliers like her fascinating. The captain was hardly an outlier, but she was still curious. "Do you like being a quidditch player?"