If she had any lingering reservations, they're swept away by the smile he gives her. Anything that would earn her a smile like that can't be a mistake. She lets the kiss ground her, her hands curling around the lapels of his jacket as she tries to will her heart to stop pounding. God, she still feels like a stiff breeze might just knock her over, or waft her away.
The sight of the ring on her finger doesn't do much for how unreal this all feels. Maybe it's the lack of music, for all that she should be used to that by now; part of her thinks it would do her good if she could tromp off for five minutes and sing through all this to herself until she was on more solid ground. But the ring is beautiful, and fits more perfectly than any gemstone ought to on the hand of a peasant. Is this how Cinderella had felt, when the Prince put the slipper on her foot?
"It's beautiful," she says, giving him a look that starts out appreciative and then slides into fondly exasperated when he starts going on about diamonds being traditional, as if she'd been sitting around and waiting for him to pour diamonds into her lap in the first place. She hadn't expected any ring, let alone one tailored to certain specifications.
Before she can tell him not to be silly, he mentions Saoirse, and a startled laugh escapes her. "Saoirse knew?" Well, she knew the lass had broached the subject, but she never would have guessed that Thomas had taken her ring shopping, and she's surprised the secret was so well kept. "What a pair of sneaks," she says, too impressed to really sound scolding. She lifts her newly adorned hand to Thomas's cheek, her thumb caressing his skin as she leans up to kiss him, languid and lingering.
After a few long moments, she pulls back just enough to mutter a faintly exasperated, "Now I don't want to go in." They probably shouldn't make Saoirse wait too much longer, but she wants to keep basking in the moment, letting herself acclimate to this new (if not drastically different) path onto which they've stepped. She can feel a host of new questions and concerns queueing up a little ways off, but she turns her back on them, content just to wrap her arms around Thomas and nestle close.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2018-12-23 05:19 am (UTC)The sight of the ring on her finger doesn't do much for how unreal this all feels. Maybe it's the lack of music, for all that she should be used to that by now; part of her thinks it would do her good if she could tromp off for five minutes and sing through all this to herself until she was on more solid ground. But the ring is beautiful, and fits more perfectly than any gemstone ought to on the hand of a peasant. Is this how Cinderella had felt, when the Prince put the slipper on her foot?
"It's beautiful," she says, giving him a look that starts out appreciative and then slides into fondly exasperated when he starts going on about diamonds being traditional, as if she'd been sitting around and waiting for him to pour diamonds into her lap in the first place. She hadn't expected any ring, let alone one tailored to certain specifications.
Before she can tell him not to be silly, he mentions Saoirse, and a startled laugh escapes her. "Saoirse knew?" Well, she knew the lass had broached the subject, but she never would have guessed that Thomas had taken her ring shopping, and she's surprised the secret was so well kept. "What a pair of sneaks," she says, too impressed to really sound scolding. She lifts her newly adorned hand to Thomas's cheek, her thumb caressing his skin as she leans up to kiss him, languid and lingering.
After a few long moments, she pulls back just enough to mutter a faintly exasperated, "Now I don't want to go in." They probably shouldn't make Saoirse wait too much longer, but she wants to keep basking in the moment, letting herself acclimate to this new (if not drastically different) path onto which they've stepped. She can feel a host of new questions and concerns queueing up a little ways off, but she turns her back on them, content just to wrap her arms around Thomas and nestle close.