Early afternoon, May 1st 2011

The light inside the house was peculiar, shining through the windows grey and shifting with the motion of the clouds outside. Lola could have put flame to lamps and worked up the fire, but - well, she wasn't working with dyes and her pattern was already set on the loom. She didn't need bright light to work and this uneasy false twilight suited her unsettled mood. The wicked headache that had kept her from Beltane the night before had finally settled, at least. Music drifted through the house over the clack-thunk of shuttle and beater, something full of violins, harpsichords and Gregorian chants.

A newspaper fluttered open on the slanted drafting table, the Beltane insert slipping aside and facing a page with an article about a set of brutal murders elsewhere in the city. The bright colors of the insert were just as muted as everything else in the room, and seemed completely inappropriate adjacent to the harsh newsprint and the black-and-white grainy photo of the victims.

Icarus, on the other hand, came on like a dream - like a surprise, a demise, a little lie tucked into a sleeping ear, fingers left to push hair aside.

He came on quietly, as all dark things should. By now, letting himself into Lola's house was a breeze, one he didn't have to think twice about. Automatic, you see.

He was still careful, though - it was still her house, despite the liberties he took. It was strange, how he managed himself, how he handled this world. Bold in some ways, but to other degrees, he still respected her privacy.

He considered the newspaper as he went, but in the end, it was his violet, violent hands that settled on her shoulders, his head bowing just to rumble in her ear: "'V' is for vampire, 'b' is for blood - so give me your money, I'll give you my love."

And that, boys and girls, was the perfect indicator to the man's mood, wild and wicked, maybe a little hungry - but not so much that he didn't bury his face against her throat, his grin felt as easily as heard as those hands slithered down, crossing her collarbones to grasp opposite shoulders.

He was in a good mood.

Lola didn't hear him at all, drifting through her house, inspecting the paper, creeping up behind. Didn't realize he was there until hands touched her shoulder and a voice rumbled into her ear. If the voice hadn't followed so closely on the touch she would have jumped - as it was her heart just barely had time to thud faster for a beat or two before she knew who it was.

Her smile bloomed, warm and happy as the light was cool and dismal, and she shot the shuttle the rest of the way through the threads so that she could put it down. Then her hands went up over his and she tilted her head. She was allowing him better access to her neck, you see, and giving herself an angle to see the gleam of his flat green eyes. "Icarus."

He took in a slow, deep breath of her, those eyes slitted a second - but it was brief, and a moment later they had opened, right as he pressed his nose there against the line of her jaw.

"Miss Lynn," he teased, the name of the little Snow-Hen of the song; the wide slash of his mouth spread into a grin that was sharp, straight teeth and his own form of wicked, sharp charm - a predator's charm, mind you, but carefully tempered with decades of experience - if not more.

His hands slid down, just to wind about her hips as he straightened, pulling her right up with him, thank you kindly!

"How are you this afternoon?" It was still plenty light out, and yet here he was without a care or a worry in the world. Of course, it also explained why he had on the leather biker jacket - he probably rode over here.

Loom work called for jeans instead of her usual skirts - it was too easy to tangle the threads with skirts - so once she was standing (with the help of that unsubtle pull upwards!) she was able to turn and step over the bench. She faced him and slid her arms up and around his neck with her smile shining brilliant upwards at him. No predator, she - she was the charmed, the mouse held rapt by the snake. "Better, now. I didn't expect to see you - not so early. How are you, today?" Don't think she missed the jacket, either. If he weren't careful she was going to beg another ride out of him.

Oh, she was more than welcome to beg a ride out of him. More than one kind, if she wasn't careful, but there was no way he'd ever say such a thing to her.

"I am doing so much better, now that I'm here. I dreamt about you earlier," he said, before his tongue clucked against the roof of his mouth. "Had to see you."

She didn't get the chance, with the jacket - he let her go for a moment, just to unzip it, and...

You know what? It was worth it, just to watch him - strong shoulders rolling back, leather slithering down them, away from the simple white wife-beater he had on beneath it. She could see the tattoos across his chest, through the thin white cotton. He tossed the coat across the bench, just to snap his hands out, catching her right at the backs of her thighs, boosting her up into his grasp - just so he could turn and take the necessary steps to park her atop the table, eyes slitted, dire, and dangerously, dangerously sexy.

"And how about you, hm' How are you today?" asked with all the nonchalance one might muster when discussing the weather.

"Hmm?" Pardon her, she was distracted. And a little breathless. And distracted. The violet through thin white, the shadows of ink tracking black over broad chest, the flare of shoulder muscles spreading and shifting when he lifted her up (so easily! That was what stole her breath away). Her hands lifted and she spread her fingers, tracing the curves and jagged lines of his barely-concealed tattoos through the thin fabric.

"Oh!" That was words actually processing and making sense again. When she looked up at his face she was blushing again, but that didn't stop the track of her hands or, for that matter, the way she wrapped her legs around his waist - to keep from slipping, of course. "I'm much better now. I've been on edge all day, but - well, I feel better now that you're here. What did you dream of, earlier?"

The grin he gave her" It was up to no good. Maybe it never had been. It was sharp and sexy as hell, making those flat green eyes slitted and dire.

"It involved me, you, a dress, some dancing...and then a rather large four poster bed. If I say anymore, you're going to be as red as a beet - so I'll be nice, stop there." His hands, however, weren't interested in stopping; they slithered down, teasing the backs of her knees a moment before winding around to the front, coasting lazily up her thighs.

Just the mention of the bed and that she would be blushing was enough to lead her mind along tracks which - well, yes, brighter color surged and flushed her cheeks. And who knew that the backs of her knees could feel so - so - apparently he'd found an unexpected erogenous zone! She stammered on the answer while her hands spread flat against his chest. "We-well, I've dresses and I'll dance with you anytime you like. Uhm."

He was taking dreadful advantage of her distraction, really he was. So she turned the tables and leaned forward. Given relative heights and angles, that meant it was her turn for her face to rest against his neck and the smile to be felt as much as heard in her voice. "Before we go dancing can we ride your bike again, though?" Then she kissed the side of his neck where her lips had been moving. So there.

He was taking advantage, it was true. He was cruel when it suited him - but then she went and did that, and instantly his head started to ease back, eyes slitting shut. The motion brushed his goatee there against her cheek.

"We can go on a ride on my bike whenever you want, baby," he rumbled quietly, hands sliding along to the outside of her thighs, ever so slightly skimming there along the curve of her ass, up the small of her back.

Texture. It was all about texture and color for Lola and he had both. Also he was very, very sexy. But it was texture that crept the fingers of her right hand up along the skin of his neck toward the goatee, to touch the rough-slick feel of the coarse hair. Texture that she felt again with her mouth along the side of his throat, just there over the artery when she smiled into another kiss of his skin, and bit lightly.

"We could go now, unless you want to stay here?" That was another smile, another curve of her lips against his throat. Very honestly, she'd enjoy herself either way in his company. Also she was having quite a lot of fun at the moment. Her left hand tracked the upper edge of his shirt, the place where the weave of fabric hemmed out and gave way to skin over shifting muscles.

"You're the devil with breasts, Lola Granger," he said quietly - and from anyone else, it might have sounded insulting. Coming from Icarus, it sounded like a blessing - like he'd have her no other way in the world than exactly how she was.

He lowered his head though, just to look at her - to eat her up with those green eyes, before a hand rose, fingertips brushing her cheek. "I'd rather stay here. Just wanna spend some time with you. I won't make you dance, though," said, with a lazy, half-assed smile, the kind that had probably parted many a pair of pretty thighs.

She laughed at his - accusation' Compliment' The statement, in any case. Her cheeks were rosy again, though this time it was with the pleasure of his words rather than embarrassment. "All right. Is there - do you want anything" I've beer in the fridge or - well, anything?" That was a terrible smile he was wearing, lazy-tempting without even trying. Her own was a bloom of delight when she lifted her hand to rest her palm against his cheek.

"I'm all right," he said, before his eyes flicked past her, towards the door. "Couch' Kitchen" My lap?" There was a subtle sort of hopefulness there at the end of his tone, a subtle upwards turn of those ideas of his...He had plenty, after all.

"Couch and your lap." Her brown eyes sparkled with the answer, her smile turned up another half-notch or two. She might not have been tracking on all those wicked ideas of his, but she liked sitting in his lap, liked the close contact of it and the way he felt, strong and long and lean.

Well, he wasn't going to argue with that, that was for sure. Sliding his hands right beneath her thighs once more, he leaned in, chest to chest, those sharp eyes slitting. "Arms around my neck, hm' Would hate for you to fall." Not, of course, like he'd ever let that happen.

She nodded and really, it didn't take a whole lot of persuasion to convince her to wrap her arms around his neck. Once her arms were in place she hitched a little closer to him, snugged right up. Utterly trusting - if he were to tell her the same thing before jumping off the edge of a building holding her, she would have faith that he'd not let her fall, not let her be hurt.

Which on the surface of things, was completely ridiculous, honestly. He was a vampire, a predator - there was no mistaking that, nor his capacity for danger and violence. But when Lola put her faith in someone, it was with every fiber of her being. She trusted Icarus, and to her, it was just that easy.

It helped, perhaps, that he was a natural leader. Icarus was good at guiding people to what he wanted. In this case, however...well, it wasn't that he wanted to so much guide her anywhere. He just wanted to be with her, and—

He made sure he had hold of her before he started out of the workroom, towards the living room - and, more importantly' The couch. Once there" He settled himself onto it, and put her right there in his lap, across strong thighs wrapped in denim.

Good place to be, all things considered. She made a happy little sound and nestled right up against him. "I'm glad some of my workload's eased back or I'd feel horribly guilty about this. As it is I'm just going to enjoy it. How are your lurks doing" Have they been - behaving - lately?" While she asked, she started absently tracing one of the lines of his tattoos again, the shadow of black against violet beneath white.

"For the most part' Yes, they're behaving - things aren't really all that bad - not anymore. When we first came here" It was chaos - a lot of disorder. New place, you know?" He shifted a bit, slouching down into the couch, those strong thighs parting, but ever-careful not to upset her.

He moved carefully enough that she was able to move and shift with him, to settle more comfortably into his lap and his arms. "Mmm. I remember how topsy-turvy everything was when I moved here from Alder House and that wasn't really terribly far at all. I can't even imagine how it must have been for so many people to come to a - a whole new world, so different from where you'd been."

Conversation lasted almost another hour before Lola looked up at the clock and it reminded her of the rest of her plans for the day. She had to change still before she went up to speak with Junior " and if only that were a visit she could make out of love and respect instead of obligation! But when Icarus left it was with a promise to come back later that night with the bike so that they could go to the Bonfire Lighting together.

As soon as Icarus left, the engine-noise of his bike fading in the distance, spiders went crawling up Lola's spine again. It was just the weather making her feel so unsettled, surely. ((Edited and adapted from live play with Icarus - thank you!))