Logs:Lipstick
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| RL Date: 15 October, 2014 |
| Who: Lycinea, V'ros |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Special Snowflake helps Playboy Pern on Turnover. |
| Where: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 28, Month 13, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Telavi/Mentions |
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| Crowds. It turns out that Lya doesn't do any better with crowds here on her home turf than she does at foreign gathers. And at least at foreign gathers, she had someone (if not trustworthy, at least familiar) at her side to help ground her. Here, she has no one. She sticks it out as long as she can and has one of the bubbly juice drinks prepared for the littles in her hand where she's now lingering at the edge of the glow light, watching the skaters on the lake wistfully. Towards the edges of the desultory group, where there's less ebb-and-flow and one can actually hear themselves think.. that's where Lothario edges. He pushes through the warm bodies, trying not to jostle his glass of ale, and finally makes it to the end, where he squeezes out from between two bulky riders. His lungs fill up as he inhales fresh, cold air in one big gulp. From behind the mask, his eyes follow the pull of the ice skaters as they circle the lake dizzingly. It's where his attention stays as he side-steps out of the way of someone's drunken play fight.. and into the blonde snowflake. "Shi.. sorry, sorry, I didn't.." He takes a step back, holding his glass to his chest. She stumbles, because she wasn't facing him. Not fully away, but on an angle. Her arms fly away from where they'd been wrapped about her middle and she's twisting to give him a dirty look. She was trying to be polite, wasn't she? Oh well, "For Faranth's sake, didn't your mother ever teach you it's not nice to walk on--" That's when the voice registers and the kohl-lined eyes peer at Playboy Pern. "V'ros?" The whole scene is an awkward encounter. All he can do is offer his apologies, which he's already done, and give the snowflake some room. V'ros looks properly chastized from the abruptly ended insult, but he seems to perk up with the call of his name; his shoulders get a little straighter. Recognition doesn't dawn, just a hopeful inflection. "Yeah?" It doesn't seem to occur to the snowflake that the recognition might not be returned. Just because usually patch-ridden and uncoordinated Lycinea is in a really nice ensemble with make-up and a mask... But she does peer at him a moment longer. "Do you... know you have lipstick everywhere?" She asks, eyes squinted. "I guess your girlfriend really--" Only, that's awkward too. So she stops. "Where is she?" Presumably, his girlfriend. Lack of recognition doesn't appear to bother the brownrider, or maybe he's already well within his cups. "Yeah," he says again, this time swiping one down down his cheek, smearing the red lipstick there. "It's my costume. It's dumb." He rubs his forefinger against his thumb, trying to rub the lipstick away. "Where is who?" Because they're obviously not on the same page, whoever this snowflake chick is and V'ros. "Your girlfriend," the snowflake sounds puzzled, "But..." She shakes her head then, nose wrinkling a moment before she lifts her glass for a sip, leaving her own lip prints behind. "How did betweening go?" She asks abruptly, as if they're friends. "My.." Brown eyes wander off to the right, possibly to follow the staggered movements of a man off the ice. "I don't have a girlfriend." V'ros remains quiet as his gaze drops to the snowflake. "Fine." He blinks a few times, unmoving, before opening his mouth to speak. "Who are you?" Fancy dress, painted face, and lack of attitude are all indicators of.. not Lycinea. "So we'll go to Ista soon?" Does that give it away? Well, if not, the blond is shifting a hand to push her mask up. It's left lines there on her cheeks and brow, and clean fingers rub across her face. "It's me," which is helpful, but is the make-up and dress enough to obscure her now that her mask is lifted? Her reference to Ista sparks familiarity, and the lifted maks solidifies his guess. "Lycinea?" spoken with disbelief. V'ros even leans forward, squinting - harder with a mask on - into her face. "What.. do you have all over your..?" He makes a circular motion around his own face, heedless of the fact that his, too, has makeup (lipstick) all over it. There's a brief moment where Lya processes that no, he really didn't recognize her, but his question brings her back to herself and she rolls her eyes, lifting one hand to make a circular motion around his face just as he did, "The same thing you have on your face. But you smudged yours." And just like that she's taking the quick step in and pressing her red lips to give him a fresh mark on the other side of his mouth before rebounding back the step and lifting her drink, "Fixed it." "You have black.. around your eyes." Still squinting and leaning forward like a jackanapes, V'ros can't react in enough time when Lycinea is adding another lipstick mark to his face. He does take a step back when she's backed away, flushing from his face all the way down his neck and probably then some, but, clothes and all. "Okay.. uh, thanks." His hand comes up to needlessly wiggle his mask into place. He continues to blush in awkward silence. Awkward. Awwwwkward. Mask! What a great idea. Lya reaches up and pulls hers down, pulling wisps of hair with it that she then has to fish out from the trap the mask and her forehead creates. It's as she's doing this rather inelegant thing that she says, "I have a day off the seven after this one. If you want to go to Ista then. If you have the afternoon free. Or evening. Or whenever." She just wants to go. It's totally as if she really was just helping fix his costume. Except for the awkward. Because she was, right? "Ista.." V'ros deliberates, shifting his feet in the snow to a more comfortable position. "I have to ask Telavi." His eyes settle on Lycinea, his blush finally receding some. "Between isn't easy. You should ride.. with her." He shrugs and takes a long drink from his glass, draining about half without coming up for a breath. Serious business requires a serious buzz. "Can we still go if she can't?" The snowflake asks as her fingers pull the errant hairs back into the elegant coiffure. For the rest? He's the expert; she'll not argue. "No." V'ros doesn't hedge around the issue. His answer is final - for now. "I'll ask, but I should.. go." He lifts fingers of his free hand in a wave, mimics a smile, and then turns, trying to elbow his way back into the crowd. Lycinea frowns; it's an impressive expression with the red on her lips making it more dramatic. Nevertheless her hand lifts not quite making all the way to an actual wave before he turns and then her shoulders lift and fall in a deep breath. It's probably good that he's not close enough to hear her mutter, "What a weirdo." |
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