The Corvat and the Flower

Harlow adjusted his tie and then his sleeves. He was pleasantly surprised his old suit still fit. It had been quite some time since he wore anything other than t-shirts and overalls. The suit made him feel out of place even though every bun in the building was dressed to impress.

When he had received his invitation, he had initially decided to forgo the whole event, but Harlow found that he had more time on his hands now that the imps are helping out on the farm. A night of free food and drinks don’t sound too bad, I guess. 

The elevator doors dinged then slid open and he stepped out onto the floor, clearly made of marble. The highest floor in the skyscraper was reserved only for the elite and those that served some sort of importance.He whistled at the view before him, Burrowgatory’s neverending nightlife and all the lights dotted the scenery. It was beautiful. 

Chatter could be heard coming down the long hallway where a set of large and tall double doors could be seen. Outside of it were two dolls, stationed there to open the doors for buns to go in and out. As he approached, they did exactly that. The grand ballroom opened up and guests of all shapes and sizes, all in familiar gala clothing and their masquerade masks on, could be seen mingling.

“I guess we made it,” he whispered to himself before doing one last tug at his sleeves and walking in deeper.

Chenille had gotten such a grand opportunity; being able to attend Angora’s masquerade by the generosity of one of her friends. Forgoing their own enjoyment of the event so that she could experience it in all its glory. She didn’t want to squander the chance to overcome some of her anxiety, so she accepted the invitation. The lust bun even lost hours of sleep making a dress for the occasion.

So why was it that she couldn’t gather that same energy she put forth into arriving now that she was here?

She had tucked herself away into a corner for the time being, simply observing the other attendants socializing with another. Repeatedly asking herself if she intended to stay there for the entire night or actually attempt to join in on the festivities.

Thinking some liquid courage was in order, Chenille reluctantly tore herself from the spot. Quietly as well as politely making her way through some of the crowd in search of a drink. Accidentally getting shoved by another passing guest that clearly had too much already, bumping harshly into a fellow lust bun.

“I-I’m sorry! Soso sorry!” She was quick to apologize, even bowing her head respectfully to the stranger. The guests here were of much higher status than she and the last thing she wanted was to upset anyone.

He felt someone push against him, and when Harlow turned, he instinctively reached out his arms to try and catch the Succubun should they have fallen over. Luckily for them both, she seemed alright.

A grin appeared on his face, “No worries at all.” Harlow eyed the drunken individual who wobbled off in the party crowd. “These things always show who can and cannot drink,” he chuckled under his breath.

His focus turned back to the lady in front of him. “I do hope they did not spill on your beautiful attire.”

A relieved sigh left Chenille seeing that the other party goer wasn’t angry with her. Finding herself very fortunate she didn’t bump into someone who would have been. She might have taken that as a sign to leave the party early had that been the case. Though that was still a possibility with how her nerves were currently.

Processing that her dress was called beautiful did prompt a blush underneath her mask. Had it not felt like she was boasting, she would have mentioned it was of her own design. Quickly scanning the fabric for any stains, finding some spots along her gloves.

“T-Thanks- for the complim-ment. And w-well being unders-standing.” Slipping off the gloves and folding them before stuffing them into her handbag. “If I-I can say so, you l-look very das-shing.” Wanting to swiftly return the kindness shown to her. Not knowing what else to say did she toy with the strap of her bag. Glancing this way and that for the drink she hoped would ease her.

Chuckling, Harlow appreciated the compliment. The fact that she had tucked her gloves away did not go unnoticed. It was a good sign she did not make a large fuss about it, whatever it was that the drunkard had spilt on her, he appreciated that too.

“Thank you, miss,” he did an overexaggerated bow in hopes to make her smile. “It’s jam packed in here,” he shrugged. “‘Suppose it is one of the most sought after events.” A quick glance around the room and he could see several familiar faces who worked in the city council and more. Oleander was also amongst them. How did he get in here? He did not know if Angora knew the fellow, maybe he will ask Hops about it another time, or Angora directly.

“Care for a drink?” He wanted to move out of the way from the priest who would definitely be up to no good if he got too close.

“O-Of course.” The bow successfully prompting a small smile. Chenille felt compelled to curtsy just to remain polite to her current company. Soon nodding in agreement to the sheer amount of other Succubuns that turned up for the event.

Feeling her nervousness grow processing that fact, she focused more on the fashion she saw. Taking note of all the showy designs and material that decorated the other guests while keeping in mind her search. Being pulled from her thoughts when the gentleman asked if she wished for a drink.

“I would… please.” Remembering to be mindful of her manners as she quietly spoke.

Harlow stuck out his arm for the lady to hold onto. “Just so we don’t get lost,” he smiled down at her. He also did not want her to trip and fall in the crowd. Being as tall as he was, it was a lot easier for him to navigate through everyone while guiding her. Of course, should she refuse, Harlow would respect that too.

“I did not catch your name. Mine’s Harlow.”

She would hesitate slightly but accept the arm held out to her, having a light hold on the gentleman. Chenille did not know why yet it offered some amount of comfort. Perhaps it had something to do with the man’s imposing height or simply because he had been just as polite in turn thus far. It was hard to say.

“I thought we didn’t give our names at parties like these.” Having a bit of a shy laugh along with her words. The lust bun wouldn’t have minded giving her name in any other instance. Just for tonight though she could make an exception- if not to also be on the playful side. “You can call me Velvet.” Slightly regretting the alias as soon as it was spoken as it had sounded better in her head than aloud.  

“Ah well, now you know my secret,” Harlow grinned, admiring the playfulness, “Promise me you will keep it between us,” a wink. 

Harlow began weaving the two of them through the crowd, careful not to walk too fast, he knew dresses are generally harder to maneuver in than suits.

Once they reached the bar, Harlow leaned on the counter with one arm while turned towards his companion. “Well, Ms.Velvet, what drink would you fancy?”

Chenille was extremely appreciative that the other lust bun had a more pleasant reaction to the alias. Her blush returned slightly with the wink but did offer a light smile. Making the gesture of zipping her lips after to show his name was their little secret.

“Champagne please.” She would answer once at the bar. Her smile grew just a tad with hearing her temporary name, she could enjoy its usage for the night. “It’s… not too late if you want to come up with something too.” A bit curious to hear what Harlow would have called himself had he not given an introduction. 

He waved for one of the bartenders to come by. “Good question,” he had never thought of making up a name, “I think maybe…’Dirt’.” Harlow chuckled at it. “I am not trying to be gloomy,” realizing maybe it could be misunderstood, “I am a farmer, you see.”

The waiter dropped by and he gave her order first then ordered a glowjito for himself since it was in season, something light for the time being. “What do you do for a living?” A part of him wanted to add that maybe she did not work, which was not out of the ordinary considering the number of socialites and high class attending the event.

Hearing that her company was a farmer did surprise Chenille. Feeling a bit better about her simple occupation in comparison to what she imagined were grand ones of others. Those who did work amongst them anyway.

“Sir Dirt- has a bit of charm to it.” She would have a light amused smile about her. Thanking Harlow as she was given the champagne and took a sip after. Thinking perhaps either this or another would calm her a bit more.

“Nothing too exciting, I’m a seamstress.” Swirling the glass’ contents some as she thought how to continue the conversation. Not wanting to focus too much on herself. “What kind of crops do you grow? Do you have a favorite?”

“Oh, I gave away another secret of mine didn’t I?” He laughed, then wondered if the seamstress was the Succubun being humble or the simple truth. “I grow a bit of everything you could say. From berries to vegetables, basically anything that the community would require in large amounts. And a favourite? None.” Harlow sipped from his own glass, he was not trying to get drunk or even buzzed tonight. He let the booze trickle down his throat, the alcohol burning it. “A seamstress, eh? I would disagree that it is not exciting. What is it that you make?”

“They’re safe with me, I promise.” Her smile grew hearing the gentle laugh. Continuing to sip at her drink while she gave Harlow her attention. It was almost difficult to imagine the dapper gentleman before her tending to several fields within the day, but it was respectable all the same.

“A bit of everything though I do enjoy making winter wear especially.” Going for another sip to see she had already finished her glass. Setting it down on the counter as she asked the bartender shyly for a refill.

“...What interested you in being a farmer if I may ask?” Her own job was taxing in its own way but being a farmer she imagined was exhausting.

Harlow nodded thanks to the bartender who took Miss Velvet’s glass away. Then he turned his attention back to their conversation. “Winter wear? I don’t hear of that one very often.” As a farmer, he often felt more hot than cold, even in the winter. The amount of physical work he had to do kept him warm enough. He tried imagining working out in the cold in a parka. Mm no.

“I always had a knack for growing plants. It just became something I could make money out of, then I managed to get my hands on a large plot of land, just could not pass it up.

The music played on by the impressive quartet, it had switched to a slower song.

“There’s a sense of comfort to them that I like. More than just the warmth they give but they’re just cozy.” Thankful for the swift refill before she potentially started rambling a bit. Nodding in understanding, least in seizing opportunities while they made themself present.

“Still, props to you. I can imagine it’s exhausting day to day.” Having nothing but respect for Harlow and his chosen occupation. Turning her head for a moment at the change of music and noticing several Succubuns gathering for the slow dance.

“... Don’t let me keep you if you want to dance with someone.” Encouraging the other lust bun to enjoy himself. She was thankful for his time but didn’t believe herself to be too entertaining company.

Harlow looked at her in surprise. He put down his cup and stuck out a hand towards her, “May I have a dance with Miss Velvet?” Though he had not known her very long, he was intrigued to at least offer a dance. After all, she had been lovely company to him. If she refused, he would be alright with that too, respecting her choice.

Chenille nearly choked on her champagne, thankfully composing herself before she could. Feeling her blush bloom immediately, both from that along with the invitation to dance. Her gaze shifting between the twirling pairs and Harlow. Taking one last long sip for some amount of courage.

“A-Are you su-ure?” Setting the glass down before having her hand ghost over his. “I d-don’t r-really kn-now how…” Already expecting to trip or step on the poor man’s feet should he still want to dance.

“Not to worry. Harlow here still has a move or two in him,” he led her to the dance floor. “Place your hand here,” he showed her, “and then we go like this.” Off they went, with Harlow guiding her steps. He made sure to be slow, letting them glide across the floor at whatever pace she was comfortable with. “See, Miss Velvet, I dare say you have no problem with dancing.” His smile widened, hoping that it would help her feel more at ease. The other couples on the floor moved according to the music, but Harlow kept their pace. He remembered when he had to learn how to dance. It was mostly to impress the other buns he tried to charm in his younger days. Now, he was glad to know how just for cases like these.

The music went on beautifully and Miss Velvet’s outfit danced along with them, waving along with each move, occasionally wrapping around his legs without getting caught. When one song ended, they would continue to the next, and then the next until either one of them tired out. Like a fairytale, the two danced the night away.