Grand Staircase

[The Exodus]

The grand staircase at the entrance has become a sort of social hotspot tonight. People mingle, parties regroup, and gossip runs rampant up and down the steps. Usual Rules Apply Party End Date Will Be Announced Have Fun!

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

Leave it to Lucian to find the most lavish New Year’s party in Paris. Thankfully, Delilah was at home, overseeing Henry’s health and Theodore was watching Calvin, Edie, and the house. She was thankful for her sister, who nearly pushed them out of the house saying “No, no. I’ve got this. You two go. You deserve a night out, just the two of you.” And Ashton gladly obliged. Stress had become a nearly tangible ribbon that wrapped around everything they did these days, and it was a relief for her and Lucian to get out and away from it. It was like breathing a full gulp of air after being suffocated for hours.

Everything was perfect. Lucian looked like some leading man from a romantic comedy, but with his own Lucian air about him. Ashton, despite feeling like some poor beached whale that morning, felt like a princess. The venue was beautiful, elegance and sumptuousness lining the walls and vibrating in the air like gnats, a glorious motif to ring in the New Year.

The new year that would bring in wonderful changes for their little family. Next month, she and Lucian were going to be parents; this summer, they were going to be married; this year was bringing in a fabulous tide of new changes that rushed and rose through her veins, a wave of excitement tumbling round, bubbling forth. She couldn’t wait and as she plucked up a flute of sparkling cider. “It’s not alcoholic, I promise,” she assured Lucian, raising it up. “Cheers."

She took a quick sip from her glass and rested it on the banister, wrapping two gangly arms around Lucian, clasping her hands there behind his neck. Gently, she nuzzled his nose with her own, aware and proud they were in public. "Happy Almost New Year, my darling." She said, planting a soft kiss on his lips, parting them slightly with her own.

But the kiss was short-lived because Ashton started to sweat. The romantic in her wanted to blame it on that spark Lucian always seemed to spark in her. But a little kick of little against her heart reminded her that the insane temperature fluctuations were normal in pregnancy. She pulled away to catch her breath a moment, resting her hands on the banister. Gregory stumbled around once more and Ashton gave a small jump, knocking her sparkling cider over the edge. "Oops." She laughed. "Heads!"

She turned to Lucian with a coy smile. "What a great way to end the year-- dropping drinks on someone's head..." She pulled her mask down over her face in case anyone looked for the source of the precipitated glass. "Next month," she reminded him with a sigh. "Next month"

[The Exodus]

Lucian Michaud

Lucian felt useless here. Typically, he’d relish a chance to take Ashton out on the town—particularly for New Year’s—but his mind kept wandering back to their home in Montramarte. After all, they had guests this holiday season. Ashton’s family sat alone in the house, taking care of Calvin and babysitting Valter’s four year old daughter, Edie, and Lucian struggled to imagine that these favors were free. Even among families, there were certain things that just didn’t come without a price. Babysitting on a holiday was one of those things. Lucian could only imagine what his reaction would have been if he’d been in Theodore’s shoes as his wife insisted they stay in. His wife. He looked at Ashton and a little smile touched his lips. No doubt if Ashton asked him to stay in, he would. Maybe he would grumble, just a bit, but he’d stay. He thought about next New Year’s. If they would hire a babysitter for their son or if they’d stay home with him, watch his little face go wide with surprise at each firework blast.

They climbed the stairs, a little slower than usual and Lucian followed Ashton, his hand on the small of her back for support. He wasn’t fool enough to say it, but she looked fit to burst. The due date was next month and if Ashton hadn’t already been showing she was now. The folds of her dress hid the baby bump from some angles, which Lucian thought was a bit of a shame. This wasn’t a permanent condition. In a few months’ time, Ashton would be dancing again, this little slip of a thing. Tonight—the last nine months, the last year in fact—would all be a series of memories. Lucian wondered which of the memories they had made would last. Which ones they would tell their children.

They reached the top of the steps and paused at the balcony, looking out at the flood of people below. It wasn’t just a sea; a flood. People rushed in in their gowns and masks and tuxedos. Lucian couldn’t pick out his friends and other acquaintances in the crowd if he tried. Instead, he snatched a champagne flute from a passing waiter’s tray and looked at Ashton. She held a champagne flute, too. He frowned.

“It’s not alcoholic, I promise,” she said, as if reading his mind.

Lucian made a soft, skeptical sound in the back of his throat, but said nothing. He worried that Ashton had taken from the wrong tray. He wondered what that would mean for a baby at eight months’ gestation. Anything?

“Cheers.” Ashton lifted her glass to Lucian. He met it with his own; thankful she didn’t make him give a speech. He could have toasted a thousand things. Their engagement, their baby, the new year, their health, a chance to get out of the house alone… Instead, he merely said, “Cheers” back and drank from his flute. Ashton set her own glass down and slipped behind him. She wrapped her arms around him and he started just a little; her nose grazed the back of Lucian’s neck and tickled him.

"Happy Almost New Year, my darling," said Ashton.

He swiveled around to kiss her, craning his neck awkwardly to meet her. However, it was Ashton who broke the kiss and not the twisted and poorly positioned Lucian. She yanked away and proceeded to knock her non-alcoholic champagne off the banister and towards the unsuspecting crowd below.

"Oops." She laughed. "Heads!"

The glass must have shattered, but Lucian couldn’t hear it above the din of the party. He turned properly to face Ashton, half smiling at her, doing his best not to laugh at her.

"What a great way to end the year-- dropping drinks on someone's head..." She pulled her mask down over her face in case anyone looked for the source of the precipitated glass. "Next month," she reminded him with a sigh. "Next month.”

“I know,” said Lucian.

He still smiled, maybe a little funnily, but not grimly. He wasn’t quite ready for this. He didn’t expect to ever be. Still, he had too much pride to tell Ashton and too much worry for her to tell her that he, who had nearly twenty five years of parenting under his belt, could be made nervous by their tiny, yet-unborn child. He’d been waking up at all odd hours of the night for the last few months, remembering something that needed child-proofing or other preparation for the baby. It was all distraction. The house wasn’t ready; it may never have been. But more importantly, Lucian wasn’t ready. He wasn’t unhappy; far from it. He just couldn’t shake his own fears about being too old to give his and Ashton’s child—maybe one day children—a satisfying life. What if he got tired quicker than other dads? Or if he was stricter? Less tech-savvy? The list was as endless as the number of holiday toasts Lucian could have made. He took another, deeper drink from his champagne glass.

“Cliché though it may sound, you do realize that we are never getting this back,” he said. “Once you have kids, everything changes.”

Well, maybe not everything. Lucian sounded paranoid; reasonably so, after the last transition he’d made into parenthood. He tried not to dwell on it and already saying out loud that things would change—implying not for the better—was a regret. He mentally kicked himself and drained his champagne glass. Then he pulled Ashton towards him for a kiss.

“Well, perhaps not everything.”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

“I know,” Lucian said, taking a deep drink from his champagne flute until it ran dry. Ashton couldn’t help but to feel a twinge of jealousy and she discreetly licked her lips, imagining that taste of champagne there. It was a small sacrifice to make for the health and safety of her son, but it was one she was willing to make. That didn’t mean she didn’t miss the things she gave up—casual drinking, dancing. Especially dancing.


[/b]“Cliché though it may sound, you do realize that we are never gettingthisback,” he said. “Once you have kids, everything changes.”[/b]

Ashton hoped the bitterness in her fiancé’s voice was her imagination or some side effect of the alcohol. Things would be different, sure, but they were still them. Inevitably, they would find couple time; their crazy, experimental trysts would still have their place in their relationships; parenting, creating a family would only make them stronger as a couple, as a unit. Having a baby required responsibility, but it didn’t make you completely devoid of freedom.

Lucian pulled her in for a kiss.

“Well, perhaps noteverything.”

“Perhaps?” Ashton purred in Lucian’s ear, lips pursed. “Try ‘definitely’. Lucian, this—us, our lives—are only going to get better. Sure, we’re parents now, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still be Lucian and Ashton as we are now. We don’t have to “get this back”, because we’re never going to lose it.”

Ashton didn’t know where Lucian was coming from, the intimacies of his relationship with Natalie, how things shifted and altered with Damien’s birth. Ashton didn’t know the first thing about being a mum. But she did know she was no Natalie Blackwood, and if her mother’s and Delilah’s parenting styles were any indication of how her own would be, she’d be no ordinary mother. This would be no ordinary marriage. Lucian needed to know that.

[The Exodus]

Lucian Michaud

Lucian wasn’t typically a nervous man. At least, he didn’t present himself as such. The best kind of bravery was the kind where you were the only one who knew how scared you really were. Someone smarter, more famous than Lucian had said it better, no doubt. Dickens. Hugo, maybe. Or else a military hero Lucian had learned about in history classes long forgotten. He was failing to live up to that motto tonight. Drinking, acting morose, whatever. It was childish; unmanly. He needed to get it together for Ashton’s sake if not his pride’s. Lucian looked at her, wondered what she thought. Of him. Of tonight. Of the baby, everything.

There wasn’t any turning around at this point, running with your hands up in surrender. Point of no return. No room for cold feet. A month’s time and they’d have a baby; that was that. Lucian was sure he’d be better once the kid was actually born. He was good with kids; not with pregnancies. He liked being a dad; he hated nesting. He wanted to be pushing a stroller, tossing a kid over his shoulders, making dinner, bandaging skinned knees, fixing broken Tonka trucks. Not waiting helplessly. Things would change, all right. Things would change for the better. For Lucian, anyways, and that couldn’t be bad for Ashton.

Lucian didn’t hear her first words. He merely felt her presence near his ear. A breath, a growl. His stomach clenched.

Lucian,” said Ashton, refocusing him properly. [n]“this—us, our lives—are only going to get better. Sure, we’re parents now, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still be Lucian and Ashton as we are now. We don’t have to “get this back”, because we’re never going to lose it.”[/b]

“Right,” Lucian said, nodding. “I’m through with waiting, though. You know? If things are going to change, I want them to just change. Not stay in this limbo state. I don’t know. You probably understand what I mean better than I do.”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

“Right,” Lucian said, nodding. “I’m through with waiting, though. You know? If things are going to change, I want them to just change. Not stay in this limbo state. I don’t know.”

Ashton put her hands on her hips and leaned heavily on the left. He was right of course, but it wasn’t as if she didn’t understand. She had been carrying this child for almost eight months now. Every day, she watched her body shift and change, took meticulous care of it so her baby could grow and thrive. She saw their son without seeing him, and knew him without meeting him. She wanted this baby to hold, to continue taking care of him in another way. The selfish part of her wanted her own body back, to not have to share it with another living person. The waiting process was grueling and beautiful all at once. It skated on the verge of reality and on the edge of a dream. Her son was a constant presence, but having him growing inside her had become a part of routine.

“ You probably understand what I mean better than I do.”

Ashton nodded. “I know what you mean.” She smiled at him amusedly. “Come on, let’s go dance before we’re too tired from parenting to do so.” She took his hand and pulled him (to the best of her pregnant ability) towards the source of the music for a bit of light hearted romance.