[There's a little jerk as Aranea tugs her in close, a momentary lapse in expression that shows she was startled for just a moment. Oh, and it's not an entirely unpleasant feeling; she arches her back, pleased to be suddenly closer.]
Tell me.
[Because she's honestly curious. She hates the term magic, but that doesn't mean she dislikes hearing about other worlds or their abilities.]
[Her eyes widen as Aranea leans in. For all that they've been dancing with one another, it's still been in the dimness of the side of the gala. It's not been such a risky thing, not yet, not when they were a foot apart and swaying.
But to have her tug her in, to nuzzle against her and breathe hot against her ear and murmur that--]
That's, ah--
[That's not what I meant, but her academic curiosity, for once, can be put to the side. Rosalind tips her head, her eyes closing for a moment as she brings them to a still.]
I'm not a walking thesaurus — let's just chalk it up to..
[ Her hand tenses tightly against Rosalind's back, steadying her as they just idly sway. The moment lingers, her lips pressed soft against her jawline. A husky, dry voice whispers only to her: ]
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originallutece) wrote2017-09-22 05:41 pm
#blessed
Now, now . . . you haven't even heard me sing. And my dancing lessons are certainly coming in handy, aren't they?
[But she won't deny she enjoys the science and the magic far, far more than any idiotic nobility lesson.]
Though I don't know about magic. Or was that meant to be a sly little reference to us?
no subject
Time and a place for everything, but some people who focus on studies lose out on living.
[ Her nose scrunches as Rosalind tries to pin her as a romantic — as if she would slip that out. She plays hard to get, shaking her head. ]
If that's what you want to think, yeah — but I call that glitter in the dance hall magic. What we have, I call something else.
no subject
Tell me.
[Because she's honestly curious. She hates the term magic, but that doesn't mean she dislikes hearing about other worlds or their abilities.]
no subject
[ She press her fingers to the dip of Rosalind's back, holding her still — tighter to her form. Her words are meant to clarify. ]
Brainless.
[ Leaning in closer, there's a slight nuzzle — something she can't stop herself from doing. ]
Risky.
[ Her mind swims with the division — Olympia and Wyver, brain and brawn — ]
Fun.
[ It's a soft kiss, one dragging to Rosalind's ear. ]
Good enough?
no subject
But to have her tug her in, to nuzzle against her and breathe hot against her ear and murmur that--]
That's, ah--
[That's not what I meant, but her academic curiosity, for once, can be put to the side. Rosalind tips her head, her eyes closing for a moment as she brings them to a still.]
Keep going.
no subject
[ Her hand tenses tightly against Rosalind's back, steadying her as they just idly sway. The moment lingers, her lips pressed soft against her jawline. A husky, dry voice whispers only to her: ]
Good.
no subject
You know . . .
[She turns her head, nosing against her gently, her fingers tightening against her.]
I believe I'm getting tired of attending this gala. What do you say we step out for a breath of fresh air?
no subject
[ It was a suggestion, but she didn't mind the company. Clothes on or off. ]
Give you a chance to cool down too.