Ari ♫ ♪ ♬ (gracenotes) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-10-22 23:25:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, arielle chiaro, aspel cassul |
In the terminal, she sleeps on my shoulder, hair falling forward, mouth all askew...
Who: Ari & Aspel
What: Some more fail for a change of pace
Where: Ari’s flat
When: Tonight
Rating: PG
Status: Complete!
Frankly, this was getting ridiculous. Ari could understand one interruption, or two, or three, but she had lost track of the various instances at this point. Aud blamed Faram, Bella blamed Fate, and Ari blamed the rug (it was irrational to blame an inanimate object but she didn’t really care at this point). This afternoon’s interruption had come courtesy of some guild member or another who had apparently not realized that a closed door on the office of an individual generally known for a open door policy was a hint to go on his merry way. Ridiculous was too mild a word. Maddening, perhaps. And so Ari had extended the invitation for the evening with the thought that her lock was nigh impossible to pick, she could ignore knocking, and she didn’t own a business (not that Aspel’s customers tended to come knocking late at night, but there was a first time for everything). Surely they could manage to have dinner and then fall properly -- finally -- into bed. Surely. But Aspel’s workday had stretched long, and by the time she had indicated that she was on her way, Ari’s first pot of coffee for the night had already been consumed. She dashed off a quick message promising food, made an order for delivery from the Sheep -- at her door five minutes later, really, one could not discount the convenience of having a tavern downstairs -- and was in the kitchen putting water on to boil when Aspel’s knock sounded. Leaving the pot on the stove, she went across the flat to open the door with a sympathetic smile. Considering just how late it was -- and how hungry Aspel was bound to be -- she would restrain herself from simply dragging the other woman across the flat to bed until she’d had something to eat. As the door swung open, bringing with it a gust of chilly wind, she shook her head. “I was beginning to think I ought to go out looking for you. Come in -- it’s freezing out there.” It was days like this that made Aspel regret ever taking a vacation at all, and it certainly made her rethink the policies around being injured. Perhaps council members should be forbidden from taking the field at all? Faram, wouldn’t that make life at least a little easier? Though, in the same instance, Aspel had never been one to idly sit by and let someone else do the work. If someone was to dirty their hands, it may as well be hers, Faram knew she had covered them in plenty of blood already. What was a little more? The walk between Bahamut Hall and Ari’s apartment felt the longest trek she had ever made. Honestly, the thought of such pleasant company was really the only thing that had allowed her to assure the trip was made at all. Though, once she got there, had a cup of tea… Perhaps coffee… She’d wake up of course. After all this time, she had to. This might be one of the first evenings they’d have together that might not result in some form of disaster or another… At least, that was Aspel’s hope. Regardless, the trip was made - with ample time given to stare and groan at the four flights of stairs before Ari’s apartment - the knocking done, and the invite into the space issued. However, at the bard’s admonishment regarding the temperature, the smith couldn’t help the low, tired chuckle that slipped out. “Remind me never to take you home to meet the family for Faram’s Mass.” It was - of course - a joke, though… The connotations of that joke Aspel didn’t even realize through her almost half awake haze. Surely, she’d wake up, she knew it. Closing the door, and appropriately dispatching with unneeded items, Aspel took extra care to assure nothing was knocked over or accidently sent flying as she made her way over to the couch. Which… Felt like it took far too much brain power and effort but… It was what it was, and before she knew it the task was done. Flopping down onto the couch, a relieved huff of air was let out before a heavy sigh rose. This couch was far more comfortable than she’d recalled before. “Your day?” She couldn’t help sighing. Though Aspel’s injuries had healed as though they had never been, the other woman looked pale and drawn and exhausted, which was probably not shocking considering she had been sitting in an office until long after dark. She credited the exhaustion as well for the joke, which would be a bit frightening if she really stopped to think about it. Instead of thinking (that -- along with the rug -- had gotten them into this mess), she only rolled her eyes and said, “Faram forbid, they would hate me, and rightfully so. I am ill-suited to a noble household. I’d rather take that trip to the beach, if it’s all the same to you.” As Aspel meandered over to the couch and fell bonelessly onto it, Ari amended her plan. Food after tea and coffee. “My day has been less eventful than yours, I imagine, though likely almost as frustrating.” That afternoon in the office had really been the last straw. “Let me make some tea; the water should be just about ready.” Walking past the couch, she stopped to brush a quick kiss over Aspel’s lips before continuing on her way. “Try not to fall asleep on me, hmm?” “I think you might just charm my mother yet. Cassuls are a rather queer lot. Dancers and Knights congregating in the same house for generations. My mother’s side,” the words broke into a yawn. “are known for their abilities to both entertain and,” another yawn. Faram damn it. “disable in battle alike. You may share more with her than you realize.” Selene had been the one who’d taught Aspel the healthy appreciation for all forms of art that the smith had held onto for years, and at least was partly to credit for her attraction to Ari in the end. However, the point of the conversation was not where they were going, but who would be liked and who wouldn’t. “My mother would have more disdain for me than you.” A painful truth, but a truth. Even if Aspel had chosen to pick up a profession as a Bard it would have been far less troublesome than that of being a Knight. At least she would have been in the same guild at least. “Mm.” Was all Aspel would manage to grunt absently in response to the assessment of days, a heavy sigh as she melted more into the couch than she’d even previously thought possible. “As you wish.” Came a standard sort of mutter and the faint kiss caused Aspel to lean forward, following it for a moment, and not wanting to lose the contact but ultimately giving up when she realized that she’d need to follow Ari if she wanted it to continue any further. Perhaps if she just rested her eyes for a moment, she’d be able to focus more. Yes, it was just that her eyes were dry and tired from staring at paperwork all day, how had she not realized that before? Another contented sigh slipped out as the smith settled into the couch. “Of course.” Came the automatic response to Ari’s request. “Would not even dream of such.” Though, as Ari’s steps faded into the kitchen, so did Aspel’s consciousness begin to slip away into the realm of sleep if she was trying to fight against it or not. Ari wanted to say, her loss, and maybe even, I do not think I would like her very much, but barely managed to refrain. This was not the evening for serious conversation, and Aspel’s complex relationship with her family was really none of her concern. “Hmm,” was all she said, a noncommittal noise that was rare from her and meant that she had quite a bit more to say that she was unwilling to voice at this time. Whether another time would come… Well, that, too, was not a worry for tonight. Still, she thought about Aspel and her family as she fussed with the teapot and leaves, of Rictor’s awkwardness on the subject, of his assurances that his mother was quite similar to cordial, ladylike Seloria. Dark thoughts, really unsuited for the situation at hand. How had so simple a thing as an invitation to share her bed turned her once again down the path of contemplation? It was a maddening tendency of Aspel’s to make her think about things with which she would otherwise not concern herself. She finished assembling a tea and coffee tray with a sigh and, resolving to put all unpleasant thoughts aside for the evening, she put on a smile before exiting from the kitchen to the living area. And stopped, unable to suppress the groan. Not again. There was Aspel, her head lolling sideways, clearly asleep on her couch not five minutes after Ari had left her there. Setting the tea tray down on the coffee table, Ari perched on the edge of the sofa cushion, putting her hand on Aspel’s arm to jostle her. “What did I say about falling asleep on me?” But even as Aspel’s eyes fluttered half open and she muttered something utterly unintelligible, Ari already realized that the opportunity had flown. It was almost enough to have her believing in fate or Faram or whatever was so determined to stand in their way. “Come on,” she said with a sigh. “You’ll hurt everywhere if you sleep here.” Aspel’s subsequent murmurs -- about how she was awake, really she was -- were ignored as Ari helped her up and walked with her towards the bed in the back of the flat. “Yes, yes. Let’s get you into bed.” The response -- not entirely comprehensible, but seemingly meant to be a compliment, something about her kindness or her beauty or perhaps both -- had her sighing again. “The things I do,” she said, though she was not thinking about just what those things were, and how infrequently she did them for others. Damn that rug, anyway, for making her second-guess herself. “Go to sleep,” she said once they reached the bed. “I’ll be in shortly.” This time, she left a kiss on Aspel’s forehead before heading back into the kitchen to put away the uneaten food and pour out the tea which would certainly be no good to anyone come morning. |