[ Blind Date ] Zhiruo & Church

Church:
Matentines seemed to wash over Burrowgatory like a hazy pink and red haze, pulling in all manner of individuals and establishments into its alluring embrace. Restaurants would turn themselves inside out, do away with their usual decor for something more romantic and suggestive. Crafting spaces meant to invoke and foster feelings of privacy, intimacy and connection. Regardless of whether natural, potent chemistry sparked between hopeful buns looking for their next heartbreaker.

Blind Dates seemed to be all the rage, too, from the niche little meet cute cafes to the most exclusive of restaurants and bars, where one's disposable carats and reliable income decided whether one was allowed entry or not.  Each one had some kind of gimmick too, to separate it out from the rest, hidden in the layers of same-sy compatibility surveys, or preference quizzes, some threw that to the wind altogether — operating to let two strangers meet without expectation, or give them sparing clues about their intended and let them find each other in the crowd. 

Outside of that, there was also the Matentines Faire. Blowing in like a shower of rose petals and champagne spray, and disappearing just as quickly, gone in the night like a one night stand with an aversion to being caught. They also offered a far more laissez-faire approach, one without the principle expectation that followed dinner and a show. And, as far as Church had made out, when one of his colleagues had pointed out they were signed up and eager — it was the whole premise of gaining entry. You either had a date, or you left it in their hands to assign you one who might, or might not be the one. Regardless, you would have fun, and wasn’t that the spirit of it all? Beyond getting one's rocks off. 

Church hadn’t had the best luck with his dates thus far. They’d been nice enough, but they hadn’t been quite what he’d been looking for, when it came to scratching the proverbial itch. If he merely wanted it scratching, in the most primitive way, he’d have stuck with his clientele. Conversation had become stilted and awkward, where they didn’t immediately fizzle at the first hello. And he didn’t find himself to be too choosy, where his standards were impossible to meet. He enjoyed beautiful people. . The common denominator had been the same setting over and over again, bars where the service was open and bottomless. So maybe change was good. 

Take him out of his apparent comfort zone, the terrible playing field it was. He hadn’t been to a faire in an age either, it’s not as if his lifestyle ever leant to having time for it either. So when he’d turned up, having removed most of his bells and whistles for the sake of ease in navigating the faire ground, and not getting tangled up in something or someone, cigarette hanging from his lips and horn ornaments singing with each step, he’d eyed the attendant with a skepticism they responded to with an overly cheery grin. Ticket popped into his open palm with little tidbits about his date, their horns, their most striking features. Something to find each other with. 

Pretty. Is his first thought when he skims the cursive writing, settling in to wait with a couple of others who hadn’t quite yet connected with their date, yellow-purple eyes scanning the crowds with something akin to cautious anticipation. 

Zhiruo:

There’s a sense of discomfort to be standing amongst the crowd and surrounded by strangers outside of the bar, as small as it may be. Perhaps it’s the nerves, or perhaps he’s simply not… used to be outside like this. It’s uncertain, but if there’s one thing he’s sure of, it’s the fact that he’s doubtful this date would work out. He stares at the ticket that he holds in his hand, squinting at the little information he has about this date of his. 

A disgruntled sigh escapes the calligrapher’s lips, his gaze finally lifting to scan the crowd for anyone that would fit the description that he’s been given when his eyes lands on a white-haired bun. Long hair, spirit motes… Could that be it? His eyes lowered to his ticket again, then back at the bun’s doll. He sucks in a deep breath, a hand resting over his chest to calm his pacing heart before he begins to drag himself towards the stranger. “Excuse me,”  he clears his throat, reaching over to give the other a little poke on the shoulder. “Are you…” He pauses briefly, raising the ticket he has in hand before he continues, “here for the blind date?”

Church: 

Crowds weren’t much of an issue, rather they presented an opportunity for some light hearted bun-watching. Picking out interesting individuals who linked up with their surprise dates, while others bustled by already arm in arm with their matentines sweetheart. Trying to see if there’s a familiar face in the crowd, or working out authentic compatibility based on how their first impressions went. You could tell a lot about an individual in those moments, in the fleeting microexpressions and how fingers curled around offered hands. Same way you could figure out whether someone was worth the evening by the way they interacted with waitstaff. 

His inner monologue is interrupted by a poke on the shoulder, and Church startles a little bit, immediately bothered that he’d been so engrossed in observing to become blind. The motes around him spin suddenly, changing expressions in reaction to his emotions, from surprised to pleased. The bun in question is perhaps, one of the most beautiful buns he’s ever laid his eyes on. And when he  inquires whether he’s here for the date, and his horned head nods once, realizing that this must be his supposed one. “I am.” Raising his own ticket, sandwiched between long fingers like a cigarette. “You must be my one, right? I’m Church.” He says light heartedly, offering his hand out by way of greeting, and for the other bun to link with, if he was so inclined. 

Zhiruo:
Church. What an odd name, is the thought that runs through Zhiruo’s mind as soon as the other introduces himself ; but that thought remains unspoken. Instead, he offers the other a smile while he reaches out to gently hold the other’s outstretched hand. To be referred to as his… one is odd, too. But even this, he’ll let it pass. “For the day, yes. I’m Zhiruo.”

His eyes would meet the other’s then, purple eyes staring into the other’s yellow-purple pair, as if trying to discern him through gaze alone ; only for him to end their little staring contest when he closes his eyes. “I’ll be in your care today, Church.” 

Despite Zhiruo’s disinterest in this entire blind date program, he figured he may as well enjoy his time while he is here. There’s no reason for him to back out now, after all. With a step forward, his fingers intertwined with Church’s and arm slides against his, his other hand reaching to hold onto the very same arm as his smile grows.  “Do you have any plans for today? I’m not very familiar with this place, you see…” He takes another look around, eyes taking a quick look of their surroundings before he returns his gaze to the other. “I was hoping you’d know your way around.”

Church:

If he’d have known the thought, he’d have agreed it was an odd name, wasn’t it. It wasn’t the sort of name you’d expect someone to name anyone really, but that was the point. It stood out, and for as far as performance names went, it left an impression. Very few people would forget the name long after he was gone. His real name gathering dust somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind, along with a myriad of other memories that equated to an entirely different life once lived. Zhiruo might’ve liked that name better, but who could know. 

“Well, Zhiruo, I promise I’ll take the very best care of you.” Punctuated with a brief, delicate press of his lips to the back of Zhiruo’s knuckles. A showman and gentleman to the last. Allowing the other to get comfortable on his arm before he sets the both of them off toward the myriad of stalls, stands and fairground amusements, gaze sliding over to his date to rest on him with a gentle intensity. Around them the place was already filling with the sound of laughter, and the valiant attempts of other buns trying to win prizes and show off for their matentines.  “I’m afraid my experience with Faires is rather limited.” He confesses, voice lilted in honeyed amusement. “Last time I was brought to one, it was to third wheel for my friend. And more of a Circus. But something tells me this will be much better.” Church tilts his head thoughtfully, the lantern and myriad of trinkets there tinkling as he did. “I did memorize the layout, however. What would you like to try first? Something to eat? Drink? Or would you like me to try to win you something?” The last bit added with a wink.  

Zhiruo:

To say Zhiruo isn’t pleased about his date right now would be a lie. He’s been pleasant so far. A gentleman, even – a far cry from the usual treatment he’d receive from, well. His boyfriend. The smile that’s tugging at the corners of Zhiruo’s lips is genuine, at the very least ; his hands keeping a gentle yet firm hold on the other’s arm as he strolls by his side. His confession did raise a brow, but it’s not something which bothers him at all. It does bring an amused chuckle out of him, though. “That’s a rather unfortunate situation to be in. Did you offer to do that, or were you brought to third wheel without your knowledge?” If he answers the former,then it would be quite… interesting.  Zhiruo wouldn’t say he knows many buns that would offer to third wheel, after all.

Fingers smooth over the skin of his arm in a light caress, the wings on his head fluttering at his words. “Seeing you attempt to win something sounds most tempting right now. Is this your attempt to woo me?” He’s teasing, mainly ; if the mischievous smile on his lips isn’t evidence enough. “What will you win for me today, Church?”

Church:

What was the saying, you caught more flies with honey rather than vinegar? Hedonism could have manners. One could be thoroughly on the bit and still prance, rather than melt into brutish self-satisfaction. Church liked to treat others how he wished to be treated, simple enough math that applied a little bit of empathy, and something which cost nothing to give. You got what you gave in life. Zhiruo is painfully his type, too, which made it all the easier to sink into a single minded focus — naturally filtering out everyone else brushing past. 

Zhiruo chuckles, and Church grins at his own misfortune, free hand coming up to close a top one of the ones currently wrapped around his arm. “A victim of the latter. I realized too late what was going on, but I did get free drinks — so there is a win in there, somewhere.” It wasn’t completely unheard of in his line of work, for buns to request another to tag along, a safety net of sorts, watching from a distance. But that hadn’t been it, and while he grins and laughs at it now, he does remember the distinct stab of venom he felt when he realized he’d been had. 

His date plays into the moment, and Church’s tail gives a slow, methodical flick at the sight of Zhiruo’s gossamer wings similarly fluttering atop his head. “It might be, is it working?” He inquires, equally teasing, brow quirked upward, mindful of his sharp nails as his thumb strokes over the back of Zhiruo’s hand. “Depends what my date is in the mood for, what’s your heart's desire from all these little stands. I don’t brag often, but I do happen to have a good aim and a track record.” 

Zhiruo:
There’s a hum, then another chuckle, followed with a nod of acknowledgement. He supposes the free drinks are one way to make up for that. Not that Zhiruo can find himself putting up with that situation, personally. He’d be feeling far too petty to be able to keep his cool.

Zhiruo’s own tail begins to sway, his wings fluttering as giggle slips past his lips – a sign that he’s growing  rather comfortable. “Then,” he begins, his eyes flitting around the stalls before he lids a finger to subtly point at one with a particularly large bimble plush on display. He returns his gaze to Church then ; rather expectantly, even.  “Lucky you, the shooting range seems to have exactly what I like. Are you confident in your good aim to win over the highest score?” 

Church:

Honestly, if it hadn’t been someone that was deemed important in his life, the pride bun would have had a different reaction altogether. He forgave, but he never forgot, no amount of on tap peach hellini’s and sin and tonics could wash away the little note carefully scribbled in his mental ledger. 

Church’s eyes follow Zhiruo’s discerning ones as they scan the line up of stalls, and their myriad of games. Anticipation curling hot and simmering in his blood, especially when it seems that his date has settled on their choice of game, and prize, with a flick of a finger. The oversized bimble, and its game gatekeeper are thoroughly sized up, and the grin that unfurled on his dark painted lips is positively shark-like. “My aim is immaculate.” He assures, fingers gently squeezing Zhiruo’s hand. “That Bimble is as good as yours.” The real secret was knowing the trick, most attendants at these places didn’t expect someone both calculated, or knowledgeable. How fortunate then that in another life, something like this was his original stomping ground. 

He’s a little reluctant to remove his hand from Zhiruo’s, tactile as he is, and his own blatant attraction taking a front row seat. But he does, and parts with a handful of carats. He flashes the gamekeeper a smile, before he lifts the little shooting device and tests the aim. 

Aiming for the bullseye, he isn’t surprised when it’s off. But rather than get mad, or flustered and fall into the trap of blindly aiming and shooting, he simply readjusts and begins the process of striking the targets. One after the other, smile progressively getting a little meaner at the edges while he’s sure the bun behind the counter begins to sweat.

Zhiruo:
Truthfully speaking, Zhiruo doesn’t expect anything to come out of this as he steps back. He’s well-aware that many of the games at places like this are rigged, therefore he holds little to no expectation,  if at all. So, imagine his surprise when he sees Church hitting every single one of the targets ; his eyes widening and tail flicking in evidence of how he feels. He finds himself watching closely, anticipation and excitement thumping in his chest the more targets he hits. When there’s none left to remain, Zhiruo gasps ; hands hovering over his mouth to hide the way his mouth gapes before he steps forward to press a hand against Church’s arm. 

Enthusiasm buzzes off of him ; from the way his wings flutter and his tail sways, to the way his violet orbs light up. He glances at the gamekeeper with a smile, his free hand extended for their prize, to which they very reluctantly handed over. He finds himself smiling ear to ear ; almost a little child-like as he holds the plush close to his chest. His free arm sliding around Church’s once again, head turning towards his date then. The shorter male lifts himself onto his tiptoes and plants a kiss against his cheek. “Thank you,” Zhiruo would utter, beaming.

Church:

There’s a surge of pride and elation, when the last target falls and Zhiruo’s little gasp reaches his ears. He keeps his shark-like grin primed and aimed at the games keeper as they hand over the plush, and he sets the shooter back on the counter. He’d never quite got the buzz about Matentines, other than the imperative urge simmering like good whiskey in the veins, but seeing Zhiruo’s expression, and the way he leans up to kiss his cheek — he thinks he gets the idea. Church in turn, presses his lips against Zhiruo’s forehead without much thought. “I said I’d win you something, and I’ll win you anything else.” Tail curling and coiling behind him as he guides them back into the crowds.

Thoroughly intent on enjoying the rest of the date, and matentines with his date.