10-30-2025, 07:24 PM
New Year's Eve was a traditional night to prepare for new beginnings. Eve let the harmony of the gathering wash over her, watching her friends in their element and absorbing what were soon to become cherished memories of her life here. She hadn’t told Minty she was leaving yet. Her father’s insistence that she must be done “moving on” by now had only grown in frequency, so it would come as no real surprise, but she was keen to enjoy her last night without tarnish. The news would not be delivered somberly; it wasn’t like she wasn’t also happy to finally be going home – she was. The length of her time here wasn’t down to avoidance, nor healing. It was simply that she had found something to love. The bohemian community Araminta had built around herself was unlike anything Eve had ever experienced, and far from what she was accustomed to, but it had been like slipping into a warm bath: familiar and comforting.
Her dress tonight was a cut of simple elegance, understated despite the occasion: in a room full of creatives she had no desire to compete. Her hair curled into tousled gold waves around her chin. No jewellery either, just the faint smile on her lips and the kindness in her eye. She spoke with everyone she passed, easy but untethered. The laughter bubbled higher as the time to midnight drew near, and Eve flowed with it.
Until she saw a face entirely unexpected amidst the gathering; liquid dark hair, crystal ice gaze, expression poised in porcelain stillness. It was a face too distinctive to need a second look, but one she couldn't fathom to find here in Manhattan.
“Daphne?” The name escaped with unmistakable surprise. There was honest warmth before the inevitable tightness of something else, something that might have been an echo of pain or regret, but it was only fleeting – not tucked away, just a natural rise and fall of emotion. The surprise was clearly welcomed despite the circumstance. She came instinctively closer, smile deepening. For anyone else she would have reached out with a gentle touch of welcome, but though Daphne's hands were gloved, Eve had always let the other woman steer the negotiation of more tactile affections. That was just simple observation, the kind of perception Eve had always been good at.
Her dress tonight was a cut of simple elegance, understated despite the occasion: in a room full of creatives she had no desire to compete. Her hair curled into tousled gold waves around her chin. No jewellery either, just the faint smile on her lips and the kindness in her eye. She spoke with everyone she passed, easy but untethered. The laughter bubbled higher as the time to midnight drew near, and Eve flowed with it.
Until she saw a face entirely unexpected amidst the gathering; liquid dark hair, crystal ice gaze, expression poised in porcelain stillness. It was a face too distinctive to need a second look, but one she couldn't fathom to find here in Manhattan.
“Daphne?” The name escaped with unmistakable surprise. There was honest warmth before the inevitable tightness of something else, something that might have been an echo of pain or regret, but it was only fleeting – not tucked away, just a natural rise and fall of emotion. The surprise was clearly welcomed despite the circumstance. She came instinctively closer, smile deepening. For anyone else she would have reached out with a gentle touch of welcome, but though Daphne's hands were gloved, Eve had always let the other woman steer the negotiation of more tactile affections. That was just simple observation, the kind of perception Eve had always been good at.
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