March 01, 2003.03.01.03. - the balderdash romantic [grania][noje]
(grania)
The opening of Cymaa gives birth to figure swathed in black from tip to toes, the darkened walls of muted sound expelling slender, lithe form with little more then a shudder. A pause, and long coat is pulled more tightly around, collar lifted to keep neck warm under shock of blond curls - a halo of sunlight spilled to just below jaw where it tickles and teases against cheeks in the wind that plays along the street.
Adjustments made from the throbbing heat to the chill of Jersey winter, what little protection thick coat, and boots make are completed with the pull of leather gloves over long, slender fingers. It is then the heels of her boots click along icy sidewalk, direction chosen seemingly at random, innate grace shown in sleekness of movement, serpentine, animalistic (feline)…
(james)
he had spent the evening in the park
half-sprawled on a bench
watching the sun set behind the radiative pollution clouds
y'know... the ones that linger just underneath the ones containing the occasional shower?
those clouds
he watched the sun's rays glow brilliant on the bellies of the clouds
flaming orange lining the token silver
but it's when that drizzle became a little too cold that he finally drug himself up off the bench and started a lazy, absent stroll back towards the condo, not necessarily taking the most direct route, ambling thissaway, and thattaway, wherever his boots shall lead
tattered trenchcoat tails snapping like puppies around his ankles
dreads weighted down by the liquid clinging to them from the last shower
hands shoved into his pockets
Camel hanging from his lips
relaxed. as. can. be.gotta love that black moon
(grania)
Black moon, dark moon, Luna’s call answered in a different way. There is an ease of movement that belies natural, there is a slide of grace that suggests there is something more under the skin of the bright eyed beauty (..do you feel, do you know, who’s call do you answer..) that takes in the concrete jungle with gaze of curiosity, eagerness, learning from every simply shaped cement block that builds into the next and the next after that until walls have been erected and decorated and a bit of uniqueness is seen in all the sameness of walls that trap the unwitting and delight the predators..
she stalks more then she walks, but her gaze is pulled from one direction to the next and in doing so it is she who finds James first - not through unsettling glance, not through approving look, not through any notice at all, but rather with the accidental attack of her shoulder into his, resulting in slip of her feet from under her - a fight for balance, and grip of his arm aiding in the sleek recovery as darkened lips spread in (..sultry..) embarrassed smile.. “Oh no! I’m sorry…”
(james)
when her shoulder attacks his
(crrrryyyyy havoc!)
the Gnawer. doesn't. even. flinch.
it's like smacking into a brick wall
rather than one tall raggedymanmake that one tall surprised raggedyman
because his attention has snapped back to where he was going
and, incidentally, her
forward momentum stops, boots spread wide and balanced on the slick sidewalk
his own arm bracing beneath hers, strong hand wrapping around her bicep, in order to keep her upright
(seems you're making a habit of running women over these days, Jamey-boy)
and the smile is warm and easy, if slightly... damp
beneath those deep umber eyes"No worries.... y'allright?"
even if so mellow by the absence of Luna's silver light
can you feel.... his.... Rage(grania)
Her hand warm (so warm) - though it may not be noticed through the leather of gloves and the patchwork trench he wears - rests against his arm until she is certain she has her feet solidly under her again and bright blue gaze lifts, and lifts, and farther still to meet his gaze from her much lower vantage point… at 5’3”, including the 2 inches of her boots, it is a slow slide over chest and shoulder, and throat, jaw, lingering along that damp smile, before meeting umber gaze with the bright, bright blue of her own.. “I’m fine… fashion over function is not always a wise choice…”
The grip of his hand wrapped around her bicep is strong, stronger then normal, and coupled with the slamming force of rage (…do you know?) ticklescreaming along her skin, the smile widens just the slightest touch, just the further spread of warmth over burgundy stained lips.. and lashes fall and rise again, a brief flutter, a shutternsap that hides gaze less then a moment as she studies him… It is then her free hand rises, plucking a damp dredlock from where it clings along jaw and sliding it backwards to join the other. The intensity of every movement, the careful calculation, the inherrant grace (..I could devour you..) all speaks of something deeper, familiar, though perhaps unrecognized within her as she memorizes with the slightest touch..(james)
there is a muted curiosity that electrifies chilled skin at the touch
more than a little wary at the bold touch that removes errant dread and tucks it back into play
(....oooh.kay.)
strangely tolerating her study
probably because he's so damned intrigued by what he can feel
it's not Rage in the normal sense
that little niggling, twisting feeling that calls the ebb tide of his own
but it doesn't call it in the same way
familiar yet not
how.... strange
so it takes a moment for her words to filter through"I'm used to it, seems a trend this month.... you're the third woman that I've tripped over this week." dark gaze lifts cloudward, frowning playfully "Soon enough you'll be dropping out of the sky......"
finally, he remembers to release her arm
the grip (strong, too strong enough to bruise?) easing from around trapped muscle
and he lets that arm fall right back to his side
(grania)
Bold is her touch, and even more so her gaze, as head tilts slightly to the side and breath is taken deep within her lungs, accompanying the feel of him beneath fingertips that now slide from his hair in a chill of leather over heat, lingering touch along his jaw before it falls away completely to capture mused murmur behind her lips with the touch of her hand “beautiful... not traditionally - uniquely…” Heard, in the closeness, she is sure, though perhaps she is not entirely sure the thought was spoken aloud. The intrigue is there, the added crawl of his rage over her skin under silk and leather that protects her from the dampness of the air…
His comments brings a smile, as head tilts and she too looks at the sky… “Perhaps your magnetism calls to the Angels and begs them fall to taste your touch…” brow arches in slow slide toward curls as she returns the heat of her gaze to him… “Or perhaps as simply a warning to be more careful where you walk..” glittering tease shimmers crystalline in depths of blue.. he remembers to release her arm - where the bruises already fade from such fair skin, but she does not move away, reveling in the curiosity that he shows, her own piqued by the strange raggedy man…(james)
(beautiful..... not traditionally - uniquely)
say what?
(perhaps your magnetism...)
.... huh?
(or perhaps as simply a warning)
aha! that one makes sense
so in turn, it brings out that easy, easy smile
followed quickly by a round of soft laughter"Probably, though you're the first one I haven't watched where I was going."
seems he's one to always inherit the blame
seems, too, that the curiosity she's peaked outright vibrates beneath his skin
colored and infused with the natural Rage that boils his blood on such a cold winter's night
glittering in the deep earth's tone in his eyes"Though I see more poetry than truth in the rest of what you said."
.... whatever.. it meant.
(grania)
Her laughter rains, soothing from her lips as hand lifts from her lips and gestures slightly, perhaps waving away an explanation of prefacing the same - the answer a moment or two before it falls from burgundy smile. First comes a shaking away of his self blame with softer words… “I tease… for I know well it is I far too intrigued by the shape of brick and mortar in the wall there… come, see?” and his fallen hand is taken with such smoothness that he has no time to deny her, and the steps are few, no more then three, to allow free hand to trace a pattern unintentional in the laying of bricks… “It is a Sphinx, do you see? Here, and here… and there” a few inches away “are the pyramids. Interesting, no?”
her smile is one of almost childish delight in sharing some secret unearthed, some riddle found in the haphazard placement of bricks against another. She remembers, but does not release his hand, not yet, still exploring how his touch pulls at her, the vibration that signals his curiosity that glitters deeply within his gaze… She smiles, slow, and nods… “I am an artist… and your beauty speaks to me... begs that I portray it in marble, or perhaps bronze… I am tempted to beg that you pose for me…”(james)
a brow lifts as he's grabbed and manhandled and drug to the wall
(here we go!)
his head tilts, dreads clinging wetly to shoulders to study that which she points out
he can see it, with a little study
that little grin of enlightenment spreading over his face in the drizzle"Yeh, I can dig it."
she can feel the animal vibrating beneath his skin
in the way rough palms and calloused fingers are held in hers
soon enough, thought
that wary curiosity turns to skepticism
though laughter warms his words"Now you've gone from poetry to sheer balderdash."
(grania)
She waits while he looks, and pure delight dances over her face in such easily readable patterns once he too sees… she cannot be much older then the age required to gain entrance to Cymaa where she made her escape from just before the collision. His hand in hers is lifted so that she can wrap second hand around it (can you feel the warmth?) and hold it against her chest, and head shakes, slightly, earnestly as curls bounce in time and tangle with lashes.. “No, I do not seek to flatter you - you have such fine bone structure, such strength… almost animalistic..” almost… hm? “I would be most pleased if you would pose for me… if not, I will simply form what my memory captures..” Ah such disappointment should that be the case weaves through her words… needed tell him that every movement, every single look, every single line of his face, his raggedy frame has already been memorized…(james)
he almost begins to pluck his hand back as she takes it up to her chest
(easy there, tiger)
but he's still so wrapped up in that curiosity
he knows that she's like him
but infuriatingly he can't pinpoint exactly how
like that damned ditzy kin the other day
oogobs of purebreed but he couldn't place that eitherseems you're losing your touch, Jamey-boy.
"Animalistic, huh."
chuckled as if it were pure muse
(that sensing wyrm gift would be good about now)
a hand reaches up to scratch through wet dreads
not quite sure of what to say next
cause it would sure be a waste to get things wrong from memory
but then again, this could get him into trouble.....
in more ways than one(grania)
easy there tiger… so close yet still so far… the smile still lingers pleading stain across burgundy lips, under playful gaze that dances deep in her eyes. Such passion in little frame crowned with angelic curls… tip of her tongue wetting her lips as she awaits his decree…
There is the rage in her veins so close to his own.. and then lips part to speak again as understanding flashes… “Oh! You must have a girlfriend… I promise - nothing funny will go on.. you can pose clothed if you like.. and bring her..” She flushes as she looks down at his hand clutched tight between the swell of flesh and she places it against his own chest and slides her hands free, shyly… before outright teasing again.. “I said I would beg… would you like me to be on my knees before asking again?” and there is no doubt the playful (kitten) girl would do just that..(james)
he just has no idea what to think
screams shifter but that's surely no Garou he's ever seen
not that it's know all end all, but such things are only legends
of course, so was Mr. Stake-Through-The-Heart
and our good, fashionable friend Bastion
so who knows what she could conceivably be"How about...."
his hand carefully pulled away
not to offend or anything
he's just still quite wary of the entire situation
(someone begging a Hood, this is rich)".... you save the begging for my girl.... if you really wanna beg someone."
(grania)
Her smile widens and she tips her head, slightly, studying him, something glittering deeply in her gaze.. so vibrantly… alive as she arches that brow again.. “Deal…. As long as she’s as beautiful as you…” and then as if some sudden inspiration… “Oh! You could pose together - you and your girl! Wouldn’t that be lovely… would you like to see some of my work? I could show you… then you would know I am not only some crazy lady on the streets who finds patterns in bricks and begs strangers to pose - but truly an artist…”(james)
"Moreso, I promise."and while he's still leery of the entire thing
there's a part of him that knows Rune probably wouldn't mind posing for someone
it just appeals to that spoilt side of her
but he'll save the definitive answers for after having asked her
and a brow lifts as he's chuckling"But what if the crazy lady on the streets begging strangers to pose is the artist?"
(grania)
Her smile widens and she laughs with delight... “Well then, you are in for a marvelous time, aren’t you?” fingers start searching her pockets, until she finds a slim base and pulls a rather plain white card with her name (Pronounced GRAY-nyah), phone number and address on it in a smooth ornate script. “I promise I’m not completely off my rocker... but I always know beauty when I see it. You would make a fantastic sculpture.. animalistic - did I mention that already? I think I did… but you’ve a spirit of the wild about you… something… almost canine, like a wolf…” Merely mused.. or is it? And if so, should she truly be playing with him so? Is not the hatred innate to all species… or perhaps, she is as strong as he… and head shakes and card is offered… “If you decide you wish to see, even if you do not pose, I can be reached there most of the time, or at Cymaa many evenings…”(james)
the card taken, glanced at, read
doing his best to keep up as she just prattles on
and the slim paper is put away before it can get soaked when the drizzle begins again"Lupine, hm?" he doesn't give away much, a streetcorner is not the place for name, rank, and serial number no matter what he may think "You won't find me in Cymaa.... but I'll give you a ring when I want a looksee."
strong hand held out for a more controlled meeting, this time
"Names James."
(grania)
She just smiles and nods, her hand sliding into his again in a much more typical fashion.. “James..” and on her lips it holds a caress all its own, almost as if purred sweetly from her lips and her gaze falls to the card.. “and that is pronounced GRAY-nyah… it’s gaelic. My mother had a thing for odd names, though we are not of Irish stock. It means love - she was also an incurable romantic.”
She laughs then and releases his hand, clasping her own before her as head tilts again, a long breath taken.. “Listen to me prattle on… you’ve most likely got things to do… I will be looking forward to your call, James…”
(james)
"Nothing wrong with being a hopeless romantic."grinned so softly
Posted by james at March 01, 2003 12:00 AM
apparently he is one, too
but it is with that thought he leaves her
for she's correct, there are things he must do
a bit of a nod, and that easy smile
soon enough the raggedy man is on his way again
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