Logs:Girlfriends and Boyfriends - Revision history

Kaleidoscope at 00:10, 25 April 2015

2015-04-25T00:10:33Z

Bot: Text replace - "{{Log" to "{{Log |involves=High Reaches Weyr"

2015-03-08T22:04:49Z

Text replace - "{{Log" to "{{Log |involves=High Reaches Weyr"

Bot: Text replace - "{{ Log" to "{{Log |type=Log"

2015-02-28T13:26:25Z

Text replace - "{{ Log" to "{{Log |type=Log"

Bot at 10:10, 26 January 2015

2015-01-26T10:10:20Z

Kaleidoscope: Icon fix.

2014-08-23T02:08:09Z

Icon fix.

Bot at 08:14, 5 July 2014

2014-07-05T08:14:03Z

Bot at 07:47, 5 July 2014

2014-07-05T07:47:22Z

Kaleidoscope: Italics tweak.

2013-07-28T00:26:24Z

Italics tweak.

Kaleidoscope: Icon fix

2013-07-10T03:15:16Z

Icon fix

Mave: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Ceawlin, Wakizian, Mave | where = Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr | what = Ceawlin's playing is interrupted by Wakizian finding the one girl who ''did'' p..."

2013-02-27T06:36:10Z

Created page with "{{ Log | who = Ceawlin, Wakizian, Mave | where = Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr | what = Ceawlin's playing is interrupted by Wakizian finding the one girl who ''did'' p..."

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 | mentions = Alida, Hana, Quinlys
 | ooc =
-| icons = ceawlin.jpg, teenk'zin.jpg, mave unsure.jpg
+| icons = ceawlin.jpg, k'zin.jpg, mave unsure.jpg
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 | what = Ceawlin's playing is interrupted by Wakizian finding the one girl who ''did'' punch him. Some new things are defined.
 | when = Day 6, Month 2, Turn 31 of Interval 10
 | gamedate = 2013.02.26
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 | mentions = Alida, Hana, Quinlys
 | ooc =
-| icons = ceawlin.jpg, k'zin.jpg, mave unsure.jpg
+| icons = ceawlin.jpg, teenk'zin.jpg, mave unsure.jpg
 | log =

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 Having a face full of a man's chest startles the expression off her face, leaving a blank slate to which that definition is delivered. It's only after Wakizian's steps start echoing down the cavern that Mave's personality returns, eyebrows instantly jumping down to the top of her partially freckled nose. ''What''... her lips mouth, chin startling lightly. Both of her hands fix up into her hair, bundling it in preparation for the hat she swoops over, cuddling all those half-curls up tight and leaving her neck free for her palm to swipe across the back of as she thinks, lazily, considers, shrugs-- then gathers up the mending with a swipe that has the red mitten falling onto her boot. Staring hard at it, she lifts her head for the entrance-- no... long gone. Eyes narrow then, with a shrug that happens with her face, she stuffs it into her belt again.
-{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}
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 Wakizian's hand extends into the air between them, an obvious, if silent persistence to the matter of his mitten. "Well, the way she tells it, she only has two friends and it took them three years of just knowing her before they started to become friends and six before they actually ''became'' friends. So that gives me six turns from Turnover when I made her choke on her food and sort of kind of met her but not really." As if that weren't a confusing explanation. His hand bounces in the air in a 'gimmie' gesture. "I don't really know what the punching was about--" His eyes, which had wandered as he spoke, turn sharply back to the younger girl, "--''this'' time. The queens got upset and she ran off before I had a chance to ask any questions. Then I was escorted out and -- yeah. Apparently, the galleries is my place for trouble." His look is slightly accusatory. "Which, by the by, is how I lost my mitten. I think. I haven't seen it since then at any rate. And my hand is cold." He twists his hand to hold it up as if to go 'see?'
-Crossed as they are across her body, Mave's arms loosen with her struggle to listen, eyebrows traveling the familiar caved line of concentration on her forehead, then tighten again, curling with sudden defensiveness to the accusation. But it's not precisely with fight that her fingers dip into her skin. For a flicker, hurt hides in her brown eyes; just the notion, then gone. Instead of licking her lips a ''third'' time, as they progressively dry out, she bites down. A long consideration passes, where she mulls, then, overly practical, informs him helpfully, "Well, um. Good luck, then. She must be something, to be worth three or six or nine turns." Arms shift; she pushes up out of her seat, approaching him with a couple of measured steps. Mouth aslant with the notch of her teeth biting the corner of her lower lip, she glances over at the Sands, spotting that garish orange thing idly, then back to him. Fingers fetch at her belt. She tosses the mitten gently at him. "I'm no ''bully'." With a sniff, she tosses her head and struts up the gallery stairs.
+Crossed as they are across her body, Mave's arms loosen with her struggle to listen, eyebrows traveling the familiar caved line of concentration on her forehead, then tighten again, curling with sudden defensiveness to the accusation. But it's not precisely with fight that her fingers dip into her skin. For a flicker, hurt hides in her brown eyes; just the notion, then gone. Instead of licking her lips a ''third'' time, as they progressively dry out, she bites down. A long consideration passes, where she mulls, then, overly practical, informs him helpfully, "Well, um. Good luck, then. She must be something, to be worth three or six or nine turns." Arms shift; she pushes up out of her seat, approaching him with a couple of measured steps. Mouth aslant with the notch of her teeth biting the corner of her lower lip, she glances over at the Sands, spotting that garish orange thing idly, then back to him. Fingers fetch at her belt. She tosses the mitten gently at him. "I'm no ''bully''." With a sniff, she tosses her head and struts up the gallery stairs.
 Confusion is the dominant emotion on Wakizian's face, brows rising and lips pursing. He watches her move, catches the mitten, and takes a few steps after her, one hand reaching out, though not actually to grasp at her, just the air behind her. "Wait, what? I never said you were a bully. You want to talk bullies, then we're really talking about Alida. And I don't know if she's something or not. Sharditall, I don't even know if I like or hate the woman." Exasperation finds its way into his voice, the frustration that's been locked up inside. "You think getting punched or getting nearly punched is an endearing gesture? She just-- seems so-- so cold. And well," He flounders. "It just seems like a friend would help." He sighs and ''fwomps'' down onto the stone bench, fingering his mitten, expression a little forlorn.