Rinoa Heartilly (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
angelo_wings) wrote2014-03-20 09:20 pm
angelo_wings) wrote2014-03-20 09:20 pm
The Apartment Above 6 Unicorn Street, Thursday Evening
Stranger and stranger. The other-her, the Rinoa that Lady Caraway felt like she was tracking through time and space, apparently owned a store in town, at least according to the tiny blonde Sorceress who worked there. How had she come to settle here? Mr. Sta- Jono said that the Rinoa he knew had gone to school here, but Rinoa had been privately tutored most of her life.
They still had no real progress on the other question, what had caused the rifts and portals, but the emergence of new faces on the island seemed to indicate that more and more of those were opening, almost as though cracks were appearing in a dam just short of bursting. It wasn't a reassuring thought.
The benefit of everyone assuming you owned a store was that you were perfectly free to make use of the merchandise, and so Rinoa had helped herself to several of the books from the back of the room. She would put them back when she was done, but for now, one of them might help.
She was in street clothes today, as there was no one to impress, and she'd replaced the bottle of chianti from the other night with a pinot noir. Rinoa sprawled out on the couch, one of the heavier tomes on her lap, hoping to find something, anything, that might explain what in the world (worlds? universes?) was going on.
(open for housemates or visitors!)
They still had no real progress on the other question, what had caused the rifts and portals, but the emergence of new faces on the island seemed to indicate that more and more of those were opening, almost as though cracks were appearing in a dam just short of bursting. It wasn't a reassuring thought.
The benefit of everyone assuming you owned a store was that you were perfectly free to make use of the merchandise, and so Rinoa had helped herself to several of the books from the back of the room. She would put them back when she was done, but for now, one of them might help.
She was in street clothes today, as there was no one to impress, and she'd replaced the bottle of chianti from the other night with a pinot noir. Rinoa sprawled out on the couch, one of the heavier tomes on her lap, hoping to find something, anything, that might explain what in the world (worlds? universes?) was going on.
(open for housemates or visitors!)
no subject
Her mouth was continuing to idly explore his thumb, the nail here, the ridges on the knuckle there, and then she nuzzled all of her face into the palm of his hand. She wanted -- more. Could she kiss back, when he gave out those telepathic ones? How much of him was real, and how much was fire? Even if he could only touch her with his mind, he ... it seemed more real than any of the times she'd crept into a hotel suite with the current discreet boyfriend. That was only hands on skin, and this was deeper.
Not that she was objecting to hands, as his sent tingles up the sides of her arms. She wriggled in closer against him, using her free hand to press gently against his chest, some place where it seemed especially solid. She might be a Sorceress, but she didn't know how fireproof she was, and it wouldn't help the mood any to find out.