Harewood House - Neon Lights | Levilia

“Just run when I run.”

...Run? Run where? Why?

Lev knew Liliya's origins. A Welsh orphanage, where she'd been exposed to who knew what, and a school in Scotland where she'd found herself in plenty of trouble. When his older cousin had found Liliya, she had entered the family an unknown, a wildcard, one the Zdravkova family meant to break and tame. He'd never wondered before but now as she led him across the venue, her hand warm in his, he found himself wanting to know.

Had she run the streets? Found friends and family amongst those they'd call less-savory? Had she been brighter, happier? What sorts of trouble had she found herself in, or had she considered them adventures? Spontaneity hadn't been part of Lev's upbringing. Everything, from the moment he awoke until his head hit the pillow again at night, had been decided for him. Strict schedules, routines and assignments. A five year old walking stoically behind his father and uncles, a child groomed for the only life he'd ever known.

Did he want more fun and revelry in his life? Lev assumed most men his age did. What good was being young if one never sampled the sweetness of youth other than occasional brief escapes? Still, it had never been something he'd lingered on. Why yearn for something that could never be his?

Let Drago and Serik be the ones to enjoy their youth. Lev was meant to hold the line for them.

“What will it be, Miss?”

Lev didn't think with the way he was already swaying on his feet that they needed anymore alcohol, but he was hardly in a position to argue or decline. It all felt too good. There wasn't a care in his body, not a single nerve stressed or tightly woven. Everything felt light, easy.

What was one more drink?

Lev waited as the bartender turned away, but before his brain could catch up to what was happening, Liliya had reached over and taken two full bottles of...something. "What...?"

“Now."

Now? Oh shit, now!

She was running, and Lev didn't think twice, racing after her without a clue as to where they were going. In his right mind, this would have never happened. His betrothed was stealing - did she know he had money - and they were making a break for it like a couple of common street urchins. Her giggle soared ahead of him, floating back to meet his ears with the beauty of freedom laced between its notes. A skid through the gate, Lev moving so fast, he had to catch himself on the sidewalk with his hands before tearing after her again.

“Duck!”

The warning came too late. Just as his ears were beginning to process whether she meant fowl or verb, one of the bottles flew up, clocking him right in the forehead before soaring back to its owner. "What the fuck!" he shouted, grabbing his forehead with one hand, while Liliya continued rushing with him down the street towards Victoria Station. Her laugh was so infectious, breathless that he couldn't help but return it, his feet pounding the pavement while shouts grew faint behind them.

When she finally slowed, Lev dropped his hands to his knees, gasping for air, his eyes trained on the young woman incredulously. Had she lost her mind? He was about to ask her as much, but her hand found his again. She stepped in closer to him, her smile lighting something vibrant within his coursing blood.

“You need to apparate us away. High up. I don’t think I can do it.”

The shouts rang out again, Lev's gaze widening as he turned quickly in the direction of the rushing bartender. High up. Yeah, yeah he thought he remembered a place. What was it? London Bridge? Tower Bridge? Clock Hill? Something...

“Quick!”

She pressed in against him and time seemed to slow. He dropped his gaze down to her as all sound faded away, save for the pulse that echoed through his ears. Her fingers tightened as her lips spread in another excited giggle, and Lev suddenly realized there were a great many things he was willing to do for her in that drunken moment.

He wrapped an arm around her, letting the image of the bartender fall past his peripherals. His eyes caught hers, and in a moment, a sharp snap pulled away to the top of Tower Bridge.

The world dematerialised with a sharp tug and a loud crack as Lev’s magic pulled them through reality, and London’s streets disappeared from beneath their feet. Metal replaced stone. Streetlamps gave way to stars. The shouts of their pursuers succumbed to rumbling traffic.

Liliya swayed slightly, ecstasy coursing through her blood like a million tiny butterflies in flight. She released Lev’s hand and curled her fingers into his coat to steady herself, her head falling back as a renewed burst of laughter spilt from her throat in a way it hadn’t in three years. Cold wind whistled through the steel beams criss-crossing the Tower Bridge’s upper walkway, tugging at her hair and coat, rushing in her ears alongside the thunderous beat of her heart.

She felt so damn alive that she could cry. So free that she wished she could die right there and then. Forever happy.

The thought lingered just beneath the surface of her drunken haze, dark and familiar, but other currents soon swept it away.

Liliya lifted her head and grinned at Lev. “Thank you.” Without hesitation, she rose onto her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. A second later, she stepped back, unfazed as though she hadn’t just done the most unthinkable thing in the world, and inspected her prize. Vodka. Liliya didn’t recognise the brand—vodka wasn’t exactly her preferred choice of beverage—but it looked expensive enough. Almost full, too.

She unscrewed the cap and brought it to her nose for a sniff.

“Uargh.” Her face twisted as she recoiled from the rim, but amusement still twinkled in her eyes when she looked back at Lev. “You drink this straight?” she asked, brows raised. She shook her head softly. “No wonder you’re so stiff all the time. This has to burn the humour right out of you.”

Liliya tipped the bottle to her lips anyway. Her grimace returned as she swallowed, the liquor scorching its way down her throat. She coughed, blinking away the sting, and thrust the bottle towards Lev.

“We’ll play a game,” she declared, fighting the taste in her mouth, her expression still faintly sour. “A question for a question.”

The idea was sudden but insistent.

She didn’t know who the man in front of her was. Not really, apparently—the evening had revealed as much. She knew the polished version. The harsh one. The cold and corrective one. The only one he had let her see. So much so that she had believed it was the only version that existed.

And now here she stood. Questioning. Wondering

She didn’t know what he did. Didn’t know what he liked. What he loved. He was a stranger after all these years, a fiancé she couldn’t place anymore, now that they stood here. Atop Tower Bridge. After she had made him an accomplice in her theft. After he had followed without hesitation. After they had danced and drunk together. After he had ordered her flowers and taken her out to bask in London’s nightlife as though he had grown into a different person over night.

For years, she had lived alongside a statue of ice and stone and steel. Yet the man standing before her now behaved nothing like the one she had learned to hate. The hopeful part of her wanted to dig deeper. The drunk part reasoned perhaps they really did have a shot at respect. At common ground.

She didn’t wait for him to agree or disagree. Clapping her hands once, Liliya blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

The street fell away as his apparation pulled them up and away across the London skyline. As his feet stabilized, he felt her sway, his grip tightening around her to ensure she didn't suddenly plummet from the bridge he'd taken them to. The cold winter air nipped at his cheeks and nose, billowing through his short hair and sending a chill down his spine. Perhaps during summer, this would be a nicer place for others to visit in the evenings, but as it stood, Lev was used to harsh, northern winters and missed the way ice penetrated his veins.

For the moment, his eyes drifted, taking in the cityscape that surrounded them, when something soft and warm brushed against his cheek. Blue orbs darted back to the girl that was pressed against him, his own lips falling slack as she pulled away.

“Thank you.”

It was the softest moment the two had ever shared. The words were foreign to him, coming from Liliya, used to her condemnation and the resentment that forever resided in her eyes. He...didn't know what to think about the gratitude, or the kiss she'd left on his cheek, but he discarded it away quickly, deciding not to get himself too far into his head over it.

They were drunk. There was nothing more to it.

“You drink this straight?”

He grinned as her face contorted, taking the bottle of vodka from her when she'd forced a sip down. He smelled it, and shook his head. "Not this shit," he chuckled, but brought it to his lips as well. "This is English vodka, if you can even call it that." He cleared his throat at the burn, grimacing at the taste that resembled standing water, rather than the smooth distilled alcohol. Another shiver ran through him and he let out a grunt, shaking his head as he handed the stolen liquor back to Liliya.

She could have the swill. He had the good stuff at home waiting for him, if he wanted it.

“We’ll play a game."

A game? Here?

"A question for a question.”

He didn't know if he liked this idea. Lev certainly didn't want the inquisition to come down on him, but in the blur of the city lights, the chill that drew him closer to the girl, and the way his head still swam with unfamiliar giddiness, he found himself curious.

They didn't know each other. Not in any real way. There weren't many people that could say they knew Lev on a deeper level than what he showed. Drago. Danika. His small group of friends back home. Certainly not his father, or Liliya, who he'd never felt safe to be anything but the mask he wore.

"What sort of questions?"

“What’s your favourite colour?”

An eyebrow raised and the man laughed, a genuine, incredulous laugh that had him rolling his eyes and shaking his head. His favorite color? What was this, kindergarten? His eyes trailed back to hers, but seeing the earnesty in her face, and the enthusiasm that vibrated over her, he relented with a soft sigh.

"Blue. Dark blue. Like...the lake waters beneath ice." He studied her for a moment, a strange smile lingering on his lips. A question for a question.

"What is your favorite animal?"