Chapter 655 – Birthday Newman 11 – To talk, to banter, to dance, to kiss

Chapter 655 – Birthday Newman 11 – To talk, to banter, to dance, to kiss

John dumped the sack of materials in front of the currently closed office responsible for counting these things. Even if they were confused about where it came from, they would know what to do with it. “Anything else you want to do?” he asked her, and Lydia crossed her arms to ponder for a few seconds.

“Aside from the pleasure of your company? Not particularly,” Lydia answered directly.

“How about we make this a company of pleasure?” he couldn’t help but ask with a lewd smile.

“Contradictory to Jane, I possess self-control.”

“Or maybe your Libido just isn’t high enough... OH SHIT!” he exclaimed as he suddenly realized something. “We NEED to get you a higher-level ceiling ASAP!”

She tilted her head, “Elaborate, if you may?”

“If you can’t get more levels, you can’t get a higher Libido!” John declared.

“There is no problem to identify with that state. I have a level sex drive for a woman of my age.” Emotionless, she shattered the Gamer’s conviction, like scolding a child that was crying about not having the right size of the toy it wanted. “Going by the statistics you provided, it should even be slightly above average.”

“Not average for my harem though,” he grumbled, kicking a pebble down the road. “Is it wrong for a man to want a harem of hot girls that start lustfully panting when he whips his dick out?”

“Perhaps not,” she shrugged, no longer capable of being surprised by her lover’s perverse exclamations. “You are not entitled to any such reaction, however.” Then she leaned up to his ear. “I may not be as much of a nymphomaniac as you desire, but you and I are both aware that I am not without my kinks.”

He had to suppress the joking mention of the nickname Eliza had for her and instead just smiled thinking about it and claiming that ass later in the day. There was no way his girls would let his birthday pass without an orgy. If they did, that would be perhaps the gravest injury he ever sustained.

“How is your bird, by the way?” he asked instead, getting the topic into different waters. As queen of Germany, the patron god of her guild, the two-headed eagle that was the god of emperorship, was somewhat attached to her. That connection went as far as it being reincarnated as a chick when she had gotten the position.

Which was also the last time John had seen that bird. Several months had passed since, so a level of curiosity was justified.

“She has grown past the stage where she desires my constant attention,” Lydia responded, with a somewhat heavy sigh. “She kept sitting on my shoulder for two days straight, once I had returned from my last visit here. As such, I am quite happy that she is getting more independent.”

“She?” John asked, since he had always assumed the eagle to be of the male variety. Not entirely unfounded, given the way German gendered its nouns.

“I was caught unaware by this as well. Evidently, the Reichsadler changes genders to fit the head of state after each reincarnation.”

“...Wouldn’t that make it Reichsadlerin?” John jokingly suggested the female (non-existent) version of the word and earned himself a punishing glare. “Hey, the English language is so screwed up, I get to make fun of other ones as well sometimes!” he defended himself. “Especially if it’s something we also have. Like, you can say tigress but you can’t say catess, because that’s the rules.”

“I will concede the point that languages have flaws,” the queen stated.

“Anyway,” John brought the discussion back around, “if she is somewhat grown up now, can’t you bring her around? Or would that cause international headlines?”

“It would bring more complications that plague my mind than it would erase,” Lydia confirmed his suspicion. Given that it was not just a god but also a patron deity, there were certain rules attached. The most fundamental one was that patron deities were not supposed to leave the land of their custody. It wasn’t a hard rule in peace times, just an encouraged etiquette. Which was why the Horned Rat was so happy to violate it, most likely.

In war times, a number of independent gods made sure that patron deities stuck to a purely defensive role. It was a pact that made expansion between the mega-sized guilds on the globe difficult. Invading a territory that was defended by a god without being able to utilize one’s own was quite difficult, as one could imagine. As a second person happy to ignore this rule, Romulus took Sol and Luna on any battlefield he wished. If that neutral covenant of gods decided to go against him, well, they were just further fodder for his god slayer ability.

“Oy, blame the paparazzi for that, not me!”

“Perhaps if you didn’t publicly flaunt you gaining another forty ‘acquaintances’ by putting them in maid uniforms, I would not be asked about it,” she retorted, holding her head high and John’s arm close to her chest. “As such, I will blame you both. Now, let us continue.”

Their steps carried them to the main ground of the festival. The so called Residential district, was actually just two green areas. The smaller of the two, closer to the centre, had a few trees decorating it, but the other was just a grassy plane. It had a designation, but no actual buildings.

At least normally. Today, a city of tents had been erected. The smell of numerous types of food was filling the air. A lot of it were specialities of a season, something nobody around had any regard for. Glazed apples, cotton candy, speculoos, ice cream and all other kinds of sweets were around. For actual food, there was fried chicken, fried noodles in boxes, all kinds of bakery articles, burger shops and soup places. To go or to eat while sitting at the tables that had been placed along the improvised ways.

Of course, there were a number of tents outside of the food offerings. Many offered the games typically seen at such events, just modified for the Abyssal audience. Trying to throw a basketball into a hovering net, for example, that moved every few seconds. The quicker one managed to land, the more points, the better the prize.

They walked past a whack-a-mole stand, where the moles actually came out of a liquid surface at random places, rather than clearly visible holes. Another shop had people throw darts of different shapes and different elemental properties, changing the way they behaved in their flight. It was all quite harmless and the children around had quite a bit of fun.

John had never seen so many children of the Abyss at once before. In his experience, parents made the, mostly wise, decision to keep their children quite separated from the Abyss as they grew up. Especially here in the USA, it had been pretty smart to keep the young ones from getting too much exposure to the uncontrolled use of magic. The potential of abduction only making things worse.

That so many families had the trust in him to bring their families to this place validated his conviction. He was doing the right thing. People that had been scared weren’t anymore. That was one of the prime things he wanted to accomplish.

The adults didn’t just have to look at their children being entertained though. There were a number of places for things less simple in their enjoyment. Tents in which improvised jazz lounges allowed people to talk over soft music. A small stage on which unknown bands gave live concerts, some awful, some quite good, all in it with fun and enthusiasm. A particularly large tent was home to a cinema, enchantments keeping most outside noises from interrupting the atmosphere.

John and Lydia entered none of these. They were quite happy walking in circles and just talking as they inspected things. The ways were broad enough that they could move freely. It was the pleasant level of crowded, where it was clear the festival was well visited but nobody felt like a sardine in a can.

Eventually, Lydia stopped them, however. “Let us enter here,” she said to John gesturing towards the inside of one tent. Inside, a bunch of people danced to the tunes of a piano and contrabass. It was a very slow melody, which allowed people to move in steady, calm rhythms.

John played along happily. “Sure,” he agreed, and both of them stepped inside. Their arrival caused some heads to turn, but that was it. Just as they would have wanted it. They stepped into the crowd as just two more dancers. “May I, my lady?” He bowed, like a noble on court, asking for her hand.

Lydia was more amused by this than he had anticipated. Her lips spread in a smile wide enough that he could see her white teeth contrasting to her ruby red lips. “Certainly, John,” she answered and then laughed out loud when he took her in a storm. His hand laid on her hip in a second, the other found hers and their fingers interlocked, just as she took hold of his shoulder.

Classical music seemed to improve her mood tremendously, the Gamer made sure to make note of that in the future. They stepped right into the slow melody.

Lydia had been drilled in courtly dances for several years and had continued to practice for long after that. For her, dancing and playing the metal-keyed piano of her grandfather had been a relaxing ritual for a long time. As such, she was a way better dancer than John. However, the Gamer had gotten his fair share of practice by now, and the slow rhythm limited what could be shown off regardless.

Where other couples around them fumbled their rhythm sometimes, badly measuring their steps to the others height or showing other signs of inexperience, the Gamer and the queen didn’t stop once. They just looked into each other’s eyes, wordlessly, as they stepped circles through the grass in front of the little stage. Large circles at first, around the outside of the crowd. With every minute the song continued, however, they found themselves closer to the centre. Others were taking a pause, moved on or simply had to find the rhythm as a couple again.

Then they were at the centre. Time was a distant concept. Their dance stayed always classic. There was no sexuality in the motions of twirling and graceful steps. Only appreciation for the other’s presence and a deep understanding of the other’s movements. John paid close attention to where she wanted to move, even if it wasn’t any sort of traditional step order. They never fumbled, never pulled at each other and never collided. The distance was perfectly measured and as intimate as two clothed people could be.

What eventually stopped them was the musicians taking a break. A list pirouette that made the skirt of her summer dress whirl elegantly and Lydia came to a stop in his arms. “Our hour must be close to ending,” Lydia pointed out in a whisper, both of them standing frozen otherwise.

“The hour of the two of us alone today might, but I’ll be there for you eternally,” he promised her.

“Will you seal that with another kiss, my love?” she asked.

A pact too sultry to pass on.