OPEN RP PART II: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

[avali]

OPEN RP POST

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-Deposit prompt and/ or character.         

-Receive some pretty bad RP in return??

-Threads leading to smut is fine, because hey, sometimes it happens. 




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Muselist

Open RP (smutty version)

 

Comments

[yngrained]

Yes of course--

[She is slow to move out of his way - it's an unexpected change of trajectory, though that's not really an excuse. How many times has she reflexively, instinctively shifted out of his line of fire in the field? Though they're not on the field now. Maybe that makes it excusable to find herself all but pinned in under the shadow of his arm, her hip gently checked against the shape of the bar.

Her hand is still, technically speaking, at his arm though her fingers have gone vague and light there. She is looking at his shoulder, a fixed wrinkle in the fabric from where he slept in his clothes.]

Grayson.

[She lifts her face, unsure if she means to check him.]

[galadad]

Mm. [Clearing his throat with his jawline there, hovering somewhere above her own eyeline as he gently moves to draw her away from the cabinet, ignoring how tempting it is to stay settled with her so close-- so fundamentally different from how he'd shielded her hundreds of times in a firefight or from the hard snap of a lycan's jaws. How she'd always returned the favor in full regardless of priorities or directives.

Difficult to consider standing in as what Malory was to him for someone else. Someone suited for a better life.]

It's been a long day. Forgive me.

[yngrained]

[The angle of her wrist goes faintly resistant as he moves to draw her away - to draw away from her. It isn't so dramatic as all that, naturally; he's gentle about it, careful where he could very well be jerking back like she'd scorched him. But still she--

Doesn't know. Flicks her eyes from him, gaze searching the nearby wood grain of the cabinet. Then back: to the sleeve of his shirt, to the place where his vest sets across it, to the line of his jaw rough as it is.]

Of course.

[Because naturally. She loosens her fingers from his sleeve. Shifts her hand down to her side.]

[galadad]

[He's too bloody old for this. For company kept close enough that he wants nothing more than to linger where common sense dictates he should not, for the itch that sticks at the back of his neck when her stare withdraws from it at last, leaving nothing but tension and the bottle held in his palm.

Reaches coldly to find the corkscrew and set it to work, as diligent as ever.] Lucky for us both you didn't take me out in public as I am now.

Sir Galahad the fool and his poor protégé.

[yngrained]

[the changing angle of his shoulder, the lengthening distance as demanded by the task of uncorking the bottle, gives whatever piece of her frozen to where she stands the license to shift out of his shadow. It's a thin margin, but it seems easier - to stand there, to remember that she should be giving him a rough go of it as retribution for his stubborn old habit of avoiding anything compelling whatsoever.]

Nonsense. [She pats his arm.] But the next time I invite you along with me I'll wear something flashy. That way we can be sure no one is paying you any mind.

[It's a limping joke, but to the devil with it. She shoots him an arch sidelong glance and then moves to find two glasses.]