Logs:Annals or Dirty Pictures
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| RL Date: 16 April, 2009 |
| Who: Devan, Yuliye |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Yuliye satisfies her curiosity and her burning desire to flirt with one stone: Devan. |
| When: Day 26, Month 6, Turn 19 (Interval 10) |
| Resident Common Room, High Reaches Weyr Just off of the main passageway lies the small cavern that forms the hub of the residents' quarters, kept immaculately clean by the headwoman's staff and warmed in cold weather by a stone hearth to the left and well back from the entrance. Comfortable chairs and a plush fur arrayed before the hearth make an inviting spot to curl up with a book or handicraft, or just to sit and chat. Beyond, additional chairs stand in clusters throughout the room, some upholstered with age-softened hide, some plain wood. At the widest point of the cavern, a round table gleams with polish, though its surface is nicked and scarred from Turns of use. Beyond the table, the very back of the cavern often lies in shadow unless the glowbaskets there are unlidded to cast cozy pools of light. The commingled scents of klah, smoke and polish permeate the air along with the sweetness of rosemary and lavender. Tapestries hang across the entrances to dormitories and more private quarters as well as the exit to the outer hall, colorful protections from drafts. Having found time in his day to sit and be quiet, Devan is taking advantage in one of the chairs out of the way of traffic and all that. Quiet time hobby of choice: reading. Who knew. The early evening finds the common room empty save for him. People have Other Things to do. And there's dinner soon, too, so they'd best get to it. /Reading/. Who knew people who looked like Devan does would find quieter hobbies? Certainly not Yuliye, whose dainty steps halt as she comes across this sight on the way from the main inner caverns hallways to the one hallway that'll lead to her room. Curious brows lift and her head tilts to find a man such as Devan reading of all things, and of course this must be investigated further, so it's with the lightest of steps on her little kid slippers, that she whirls her skirts from the path she was taking to her new destination: to stand before the reading man and lean in with inquisition in her pretty hazel eyes inches into his personal bubble. She'll stand there, patiently enough in stillness and silence. Upon closer inspection, the situation gets a little more... interesting. The book, for one thing, looks sort of small and odd in his hands, he's squinting, and at some points his lips move very subtly. Some or all of these things Yuliye might notice when she comes so-- close. Very close, really, so that when Devan looks up he's suddenly staring into those pretty eyes and blinking to focus his own. A little bemused, but not so much so that he can't find this amusing, he grins and bends the book towards his chest, away from her. "Is it my birthday?" "Oh, I don't know. Is it?" Given an opening to be so whimsical, Yuliye takes it gaily, with a dazzling grin and then some to spare. "Do pretty girls magically pop in front of you on your birthday? Stare down upon you with their big big eyes and make kissy faces?" So she hasn't done that last one yet, but there she goes, the tease self-evident in the fishy-face she makes down at the reading man. Curiouser and curiouser; the book being tucked against his chest, away from her, garners a quick glance down--forbidden fruit all the more delectable. The rouge-pinkened lips purse, bow-like, and then spread into another of the various smilse in Yu's arsenal. Singsung, with the vowels extended in her drawl, "Would you like it to be your birthday?" "I wouldn't say magically, I usually know pretty much exactly where they came from." Which could or could not be a joke for one of hers. He hasn't stopped grinning since he saw her, and it doesn't really seem likely he'll stop at all if she's gonna make faces at him. Especially kissy ones. Devan's head tilts and he dimples at her, his dark eyes squinting a little, but for different reasons. One big hand sprawls all over the back of the book, flattening it pages down, as if he knows she wants to know and isn't going to let her. "Oh I always want it t'be my birthday. I get presents'n treats on my birthday." His legs, long things that they are, were stretched out before. Now he moves one so the slightly bent knee might cage her in a little. It's probably an unconscious gesture. With all the awareness of a girl used to such situations, Yuliye's hip shifts seconds after his stretched leg bends. Her eyes disappear into the bon vivant joy expressed in that deepening, matched-dimpling smile cast down upon the man. Or perhaps they've disappeared in what she's about to do: without a by your leave, about to perch herself daintily on the very end of his knee with a knowing glance backwards, before she's winking and righting herself again. "Maybe if it was really your birthday, I'd have a present for you." A slim hand extends in lieu of her sitting in his lap. "Yuliye. Crom's duties, my secretive little reader." Doing what any fully functional guy would do in a situation like this one, Devan sits back and watches. Watches her in every tiny step she takes towards doing exactly what he was thinking, and hoping, she'd do. When it's mission: abort, he makes a wince and coughs out a chuckling, "You are so mean." That she teases and teases more isn't much of a surprise. He's a big boy, he knows how girls play. "Could make pretend it is," he proposes, regarding her hand and taking it after only a short moment. Big hand, little hand. His is rough and warm. "I'm Devan. You're Crom's niece." Which he says with a certain tone of familiarity. He's heard about Crom's niece. And Crom. Her little hand disappears into his big hand and lingers there with fingers curled to maintain that light grasp. "Oh, it's not so mean. You're a big boy, but not big enough," she says, voicing what everyone knows to be as fact. "and if we make pretend it's your birthday today, what happens on your /actual/ birthday? It's less of a treat then, isn't it?" Laughing again, Crom's niece, for yes, that's who she is, finally releases his hand, drawing her fingers along the inside of his palm as she does so. "I've never seen a big boy like you, who looks so burly, take to reading so well." Yes, thatta girl! Believing in stereotypes one at a time. So she poses another question, a hand falling to rest at her hip, "Is what you read more fascinating than- oh- me?" She makes a good point. And other good things, too, like shapes. His eyes watch her hand slink further away from his and his mouth quirks to the side in a sort-of smirk that dimples his cheek again. Her comment earns her another real grin, all big and white. And that question has him poking his tongue out at her between his teeth. Oh, she /is/ fun. One pointed glance is sent down his nose at the book, there, lying under his hand, unread and abandoned ever since she came up to him. Then back up to her. "You tell me," Devan teases. His knee swings in to bump her gently. Oh, how tempting it would be to shed all sense of propriety with that knee that bumps into her, to make fact of the rumors of her reputation, that low-spoken gossip that typically gets believed or dismissed as all too unbelievable. After all, don't they say /all/ girls, as pretty and high-bred as Yuliye is, are loose? Hazel eyes rimmed thick with long lashes drop, ostensibly demure, but really to surreptitiously check out that knee, before they lift, slow and teasingly seductive; teasing because there's that twitch about her right cheek that looks suspiciously like a wink. "I could, if you tell me what your little book contains. If it's dirty pictures, I'd probably have to concede defeat. But," a finger lifts to slide along her shapely jaw to curl her lengthy bangs behind one ear, "If it's the /annals/ of the Weyr, I would win. Definitely, /Deh/-/Vun/." They say the same things about pretty and high-bred girls that they say about people born and raised in Weyrs, so maybe just maybe Devan and Yuliye will balance each other out. He certainly seems comfortable enough now, with her standing in front of him saying things like 'annals' and saying his name in a voice that makes him want to get to know her better. "Can't have any secrets, can I." He's grinning. Annals. "I don't need dirty pictures," he'll have her know, while he dog-ears the page he's on so he won't lose it when he closes the book and holds it out to her, one-handed. "It's about Bitra's history." Sly, "You wanna sit?" Because she's been standing this whole time. The flirtatious smile she shares just for Devan, in such a way he knows it's just for him--she leans forward to consider that knee again, even going so far as to brush her finger tips against it before standing. "Maybe on your birthday," she says, her mouth shaping into a crooked hook that's intent on reeling him in with her deep little dimples. "Until then~," lilting all singsong at that, Yuliye wiggles her fingers in a tiny wave. "I'll leave you to your studies of Bitra, Devan." She's all sunshine smiles, as she's found out what she wanted to know and turns on heel, though not without bumping her own knee, accidentally of course, against the inside of his leg. "See you later." |
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