The Gamer Chapter 1506 – Divided Gates Meeting Finale – Dancing (Patreon)

After that conversation, John went to try and have some amicable talks with the leadership of the Illuminati. It went plainly, with nothing gained and nothing lost. Norahnon was interested primarily in a conversation with Delicia and the two must have been glued to each other for hours. The alchemist eventually pulled Hailey into the talk as well. The rest of the crafting crew joined over time.

When it came to Celeste, John had a short, casual conversation with her. They talked briefly about Marie, the aristocrat’s daughter that the Gamer had courted for a short while. Little could be talked about. Although they did get along, John and Marie’s contact had been limited to a select few sessions, a couple of hours every month, if even that much. It was difficult to maintain a friendship with the other sex that had once held the promise of something more but did not any longer. Particularly when he had so much else on his plate.

Talking to the Horned Rat felt simply unnecessary and the god made himself scarce anyhow. He skulked around the edge of the festivities, sometimes wolfing down entire platters of food by emptying them down his enormous maw. Then he was simply gone for upwards of an hour. Doubtlessly he was making deals with all sorts of people in the backrooms.

When John concentrated, projecting his additional senses outwards as far as they would go, he could feel the shifts all around. Pockets in the side corridors and rooms, patches of the garden, sometimes even parts of the open hall, all dropped off his radar, covered by one of many different varieties of information suppressing magics. Secrets were exchanged and made, as they inevitably were when the rich and powerful came together in such a large meeting.

As time moved on, the sky began to shift to an orange colour, and Romulus once again ascended to a position where the entire room could see him. “Men and women of this assembly, with few words I thank you for your attendance thus far. It has been civil, despite the many different factions housed under this roof.”

John’s gaze wandered over to the Purest Front, who retained their relative isolation even after several hours. Some of the concealed figures stood like statues around Mengele, others had moved quietly around, but never seemed to engage in conversation with anyone beyond each other.

“Since ancient times, the dance has been a matter of tradition during gatherings like these,” Romulus continued. “And so I invite all of you to the centre of the room. Although our motions may differ, the rhythm shall strike the chords of all hearts, and there’s space enough for all of us.”

A small wave of applause, then the swift and selective stream of people towards the circle of pillars in the middle of the open space began. John, rather than heading directly towards it, redirected his steps to meet a certain copper-haired royal halfway.

Eager strides translated directly into the mashing together of lips. Apart for hours, they craved intimacy like a bee did the first flowers. The taste of honey was present on her red lips, paired with butter and bread, all of it still second to the innate sweetness and none of it as pleasant to John’s senses as her citrusy fragrance.

Fingers brushed through his hair. Three full circles, the palm wandered over his soft, short and brown strands. Then she broke the kiss, her breathing audibly agitated. “Love is such a difficult emotion to moderate,” she whispered, between self-criticism and happy sigh.

“Perhaps I’ll learn to try one day,” the Gamer whispered back. Lydia gave him a playful headbutt for his foolishness. Clearing his throat, John took a step away. He held her hand and brought her plate-covered knuckles to his descending mouth. “May I have this dance, Queen Lydia?” he asked, moments before his lips met the metal.

It swiftly peeled back. Segment for segment, the radiant plate of white, silver, and gold disappeared up her arms, and legs, folding in an impossible manner. For a long while, her legs were simply naked. Moments before the retreating metal could reveal indecency, a flowing skirt cascaded down. Confined underneath the armour, it now dropped with full effect. Long and flowing, wavy fabric of a rich red, a colour matching her hair, fell to the ground. Elegant, wide sleeves similarly fell from her shoulders. Her torso was half-covered by the minimum of the glorious plate, covering her decently sized breasts and ribcage more decoratively than truly usefully, and showing the white-black middle part of her expensive dress. The necklace of interlinked pieces of cast iron and the cape of light, equal parts ethereal and manifest, remained just as they were.

As did Strimata. The rapier peeked out of its sheath for a moment, then was drawn a little further by the queen. Not answering, Lydia drew her hand back and tapped the prismatic blade of her weapon. The tip of her finger drew with it a strand of the material that first separated, then assumed the shape of a hairpin. The queen tied her braided hair into a snail house bun with just a few skilled motions, securing it all with the little bit of her weapon.

“If you would allow?” One of Lydia’s bodyguards stepped out of their invisibility. Knights were not supposed to be servants, but for the ruler of Rex Germaniae, they happily fulfilled that job. Nodding, Lydia handed over her rapier. Then, she turned her stern gaze to John and smiled.

Teeth as white as the driven snow behind lips that made roses seem pale. Eyes like the cloudless summer sky. Black irises, focused by will and dilated by love. How could he not be stunned by her presence at that moment?

She extended her hand again, the loose sleeve dangling from the slender limb. A trained military woman and yet still all about her was pure grace. “You may have my dance,” she finally responded.

John did not know if there was any difference in the fluttering of his heart between the first time he had taken her hand and this time. No, he knew that the feeling had changed. It had gotten that much stronger. Nervousness was replaced with the joy of knowing that this was his to have.

The instruments picked up, as various pairs entered the dancefloor. A dramatic, loud, and rapid melody, impossible to move to in any enjoyable fashion, that lasted while everyone got into position. Romulus, again reduced to a more reasonable size, held Sol, while Luna waited, like John’s haremettes, at the edge for her turn. Celeste had grabbed her husband. The Council of Four appeared with varying partners. Lu Zhi walked in on her own, the jade dragon rising from her clothes to curve elegantly around her. Maximillian laughed as he pulled Irielz with him. Prince Osman stepped into the circle with a woman of likely Greek origin. In the distance, John spotted the disapproving gaze of the sultan.

Two of the cowled figures stepped into the ring. Despite the obfuscating magics, John could sense the presence of friends that did it for a laugh, more than out of seriousness. For just one moment, the smaller of those two directed their gaze and he pierced the enchantments. Striking, pale blue eyes sat in the half-covered face of porcelain white, tinged an arcane blue.

There were others, many others. Emrik and his wife, Ahanu and a Roman woman, to name only those John immediately noticed. There were many that avoided the dance floor. Eui sat at the table, eyes closed, while Dangun seemed content furthering diplomacy. None of the Purest Front even approached the table; all but Osman from the Great Sultanate remained at a distance themselves. The Supreme Seeker of the Flame watched dispassionately from a distance, exchanging words with the skull-headed deity next to him.

It spoke a lot to how deeply John loved Lydia that not even that sight managed to pull him away from where he was. Paranoia and curiosity were buried under layers upon layers of care. He put his hand on the side of her face and snuck in one more kiss, before the music suddenly stopped.

Then came the soft whispering of relaxed tones. Flutes first, then harps, then wordless singing, intertwined into a song that, for all its complicated layers, had to it a beat so fundamental it was found in every culture around the world. 1-2, 1-2, 1-2-3. 1-2, 1-2, 1-2-3 – Over and over again. Dull, perhaps, to listen to, but it was just the coordinating backdrop to what truly mattered.

To the simple music, John and Lydia swayed. Wide steps, little circles, all of it unified, chest to chest, his hand on the swing of her hip and hers on the broad of his upper arm, their other hands intertwined. John did not lead, neither did Lydia, they were beyond the need of one or the other being firmly in charge. Instincts reacted to intentions and they just moved. Moved around the dancefloor, circling around the outer edge, in an unspoken unison with everyone else.

Whether it was the rhythmic unity of European, the artistic fluidity of Asian, or the deliberate, often playful bouncing of Middle Eastern dances, the unity was still there. They all danced to the same tune. Lydia and John’s waltz-like harmony, Lu Zhi’s dance with her dragon akin to a tai chi master in full motion, Osman’s joyful directing of the partner he had found or revealed tonight, and Romulus’ presence at the heart of it all, his dance older than any of the others, perhaps even a bit tribal at times, but timeless and unmistakable.

Lydia suddenly peeled out of his arms and left behind a cold void. Surprised, too deep in his appreciation, John barely managed to catch his fiancée. With a wink and a smirk, she laid half-fallen across his hands, ready to let him straighten her back up. Quickly, John did, as all around dancers tapped out, to be replaced with others.

Losing himself to the moment all over again, John danced with his cat-eared first love. It was so markedly different, so much wilder, than his dance with Lydia. The strictness of proper protocol was replaced with simple fun. Moving their limbs however they wanted, they perhaps looked silly from the outside, but that did not matter. Only that they were close to each other was important.

Aclysia was between his arms before he knew it. They danced less than they clung to each other and swayed to the melody. Whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ear, they drowned out all else. Her silky hair was nearly all John could sense at all, that, and a gentle cold that counteracted the summer heat of Rome.

Then heat itself was pressed against him. Dancing with a taller woman was ever interesting. The gap between John and Nathalia had shrunk considerably since they first met each other, less than a hand-width still between them. Their dance was a mixture of elegance and hunger. Large breasts were squished against him, glowing eyes beheld him, but for all the lust they felt for each other, they dedicated the moment to the unified movement of their feet. They had become so much more than mutual outlets for desire.

Eliana, he led. The pretty little psycho was an inexperienced dancer, and the discomfort was written all over her face. Steadily, her eyes dashed over hatefully to Mengele, until John pressed a kiss on her cheek and whispered, “The best revenge is a life well lived.” Whether she believed that was doubtful, but she laughed, and with the laugh the tension left her. A slow but competent dance followed.

Gnome’s cheeks were dusted red and yet she moved confidently. Her little skirt fanned from the intensity of their twirls. Her brown eyes were entirely focused on him. Any embarrassment she felt was drained away. With the certainty that he was her world, John held her by the waist and held her attention with all he could muster.

Salamander followed, greeting him with a passionate kiss, and following with an equally passionate dance. They were aflame with joy, almost moving out of line with the width of their movements. Only almost.

Undine presented a calm then, nestling her soft body against his, and returned to the simple elegance of the rhythm. They moved like metronomes, constantly and steadily, melting into the music. A thoughtless existence, so easy when next to her.

To dance with Sylph was ever a special experience. Strictly too small for John to lead the normal way, she half flew as they moved around. Swift and sharp movements pulled the Gamer out of his rhythm. This only caused him to laugh and give chase, their dance becoming as much a game of tag as it was a cooperative effort.

Momo, somehow, was even redder than Gnome. Despite the bashful way she stepped up to him, once they were in motion, it faded anyhow. John vaguely noted that, repeatedly through their dance, they ended up somewhere vastly besides the dancefloor, only to end up in it again. Momo giggled, a carefree, light laughter, removed from the worries of the society that she had decided to rejoin when she came back to him. It was a wonderful sound.

Nia simply appeared in front of him and he swept her off her feet. For the first minute of their dance, John outright refused to let the blank out of his arms. She smiled too much, as he carried her in twirls, for him to let go. Once he tossed her into the air, he suddenly found her pressed against him. Then, they followed the rhythm at double time.

A speed maintained when blonde was replaced with raven black hair. Siena’s high heels added a staccato to the music. Her wild grin reminded John of what he had once feared about her and what he now fully loved. The long tail followed their motions steadily.

Metra announced herself with a kiss, arms around his neck, and a leg raised to his waist. The tall and powerful ancient weapon was leaning against him like he was all she had in the world. They both knew that wasn’t true, he had done everything in his power so they weren’t all dependent only on him, but she still tried to make him feel that way. The dance that followed was reserved, intimate, and so far removed from the tomboyish grin she showed him the entire time.

Scarlett was practically shoved onto the dancefloor by the other haremettes and picked up immediately by the Gamer. Hand on waist, fingers intertwined, and the technomancer had no choice anymore but to play along. A powerful blush showed on her face, her lower lip quivered, and she remained so girlishly embarrassed that John could not help but stop halfway through her time on the dancefloor and just make out with her against one of the pillars. Her hands brushed up and down his back, an approval in that gesture that she did not dare speak.

Beatrice forced herself out of her mechanical shell. John could sense it in the way she grabbed him, then in the way they almost stumbled over each other’s feet. He was so used to Beatrice’s passive nature that her attempt to change it caught even his instincts off-guard. That they moved with the awkwardness of a young love did not bother him, not even under the eyes of the world’s elite. The short-haired dragon maid was making the effort to be more actively adorable, at least in these moments, and that was worth it all and so much more.

Lorelei presented herself for a modest dance. Their bodies were apart, their hands in strictly proper places, their feet moved to the rhythm. 1-2, 1-2, 1-2-3 – On and on, simple and clean. All the while, they gazed at one another, forgetting all about their situation, and just letting the blossoming of love rise in their chests.

Lee managed to beat even Momo in the blushing department, yet stepped forwards all the same. The duality of Lee’s active want to not care about other people’s opinion and her subconscious disagreement with that goal was ever adorable. John kissed her better, between twirls and elegant steps. Lee had clearly practiced her dancing, something that the Gamer acknowledged only with a little smile and proud nod.

To dance with a harpy was ever a special set of rules. Wings were not good to hold, not for dancing anyhow, and so both his hands were on her lower back. One of her feathered limbs was draped over his shoulder, the other folded. Like that, they carefully moved along the circling steps of the other dancers. Halfway through, the harpy rested her head on his shoulder. “I love you,” she whispered, so happily.

Delicia suffered from much the same issue as Sylph and she could not fly to diminish it. They could still have made it work, with good coordination, but the bratty alchemist decided to have a playfight instead. Effectively throwing herself at John, they wrangled and wrestled as much as they moved to the music. Their fingers were locked only in a contest of strength that neither wanted to end. John laughed, Delicia eventually burst out as well, and then he picked her up and moved the shortstack around with large strides and liberating twirls.

Claire stepped into the opening with eager haste. Forgetting grace for a little bit, she grinded against him with all the affection of a neglected cat. When her ‘John batteries’ had been sufficiently charged, she reduced her needful rubbing to a reasonable degree of contact. From there, their dance was relatively normal – albeit full of kisses and love bites.

Hailey stepped up last. The dirty blonde’s hair had opened at some point during the evening, its messy cascade refusing to remain confined forever. She was all the more gorgeous for it, the country gal with the tan lines, in that elegant dress. So much more gorgeous than any of those celebrities they put on TV, especially because she was right there in front of him. She did not even try to fit in with the ballroom dances, instead breaking out into a casual sway. It wasn’t anything as outlandish as a rodeo or anything that belonged on a fair, just the simple dance of two people at a house party where the music was good.

By the time John was done with the last of the dances, much of the floor had emptied. Giving over twenty women their time was a toll on his clock, but John made it work and he was happy to do so. He was just about to step off the dancefloor, to return to polite society, when he heard a surprised, “Eeep!”

Keened into women flying his way after the dances, John turned rapidly, stopping the slender form of Lu Zhi with both of his hands. The grey-haired empress looked up at him with wide eyes. They were on level with his collarbone.

Both of them turned their attention momentarily towards the pink-haired Lightbearer, who lowered her hands. The shove delivered, she winked at her fiancé and walked away.

John did not lose a single beat, immediately holding the Chinese empress in a dancing position and pulling her along. Lu Zhi, even as she was pulled along, began to turn red from embarrassment. The pink lips of the jade beauty spread into a quivering smile, all the while she was moved around in circles. Her hands were soft, the grip she eventually found firm. The motions of a waltz were clearly unfamiliar to her, and so John kept it close and simple.

The plucking of the harps reached a crescendo and John stopped. He bowed down and he knew that he could have swept her up in that moment, be it by claiming her lips or by literally picking her up and taking her wherever. The burning of her face was intense when his lips reached her ear. “I’m not one who is only played with.”

Lu Zhi gulped audibly. Retaining the element of control, John did not wait for her response. He pulled back and left the blushing young woman in the middle of the dance floor, walking towards his harem. He did not look back, for effect. Thankfully, he had more than one pair of eyes.

Lu Zhi kept gazing after him for a little too long for passing interest.