Ari ♫ ♪ ♬ (gracenotes) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-07-11 07:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, arielle chiaro, rictor cassul |
Just enjoy the show; I'm just a little bit caught in the middle, life is a maze and love is a riddle
Who: Ari & Rictor
What: Imagine the most awkward thing ever and raise to the power of infinity Brunch o'Awkward
Where: Bella's airship
When: Today; late morning/early afternoon
Rating: PG-13 for language
Status: Complete
Now that opening weekend was behind her, Ari once again had spare time. Arabella’s invitation had come at an opportune moment - her weekdays were free to fill with whatever suited her fancy, and it had been some time since she had seen her friend. Work had an unfortunate way of doing that; her encounters with other humans who were not also actors or techies for the last several weeks had mostly occurred at unholy hours of the morning. It was nice to have an opportunity to catch up at a more reasonable hour, so when Bella had suggested a late lunch on the Sun, Ari had gladly accepted. She had had exactly enough time to go home, change, and pick up one of the overblown flower arrangements she had received over the course of opening weekend. She never had been much a fan of roses, but Bella liked them; the flowers would look nice in the galley, and scent the air quite prettily. Then she had traversed the familiar path to the Aerodrome, where the hangar guards smiled and waved her into the private hangar which had housed the Sun for as long as Ari could remember. The door was standing open for her - convenient - so she entered the cool confines of the airship and called out, “Bella?” There was no answer, but she didn’t let that deter her. She headed deeper into the interior of the vessel, her aim the galley; if Bella was busy there, she might not hear her or, for that matter, she might have stepped away for a few moments, but would surely return soon, by which time Ari would have the flowers on the table and coffee brewing. Though, even as she thought this, she could already smell it; Bella had beaten her to it, it seemed. She approached the door to the galley and... stopped. Someone was certainly in the kitchen, brewing coffee, and it was not Bella. They both seemed to have the same idea, however, because the man lounging at the table rose with a smile, mouth half-open to deliver a warm greeting – before he seemed to stall, blinking in surprise. The woman behind the armful of abundant red flowers was much shorter than the one he’d been expecting, much paler, and her hair less curly... Shortly put, she was not Bella. It took a second for the recognition to click, and then: “Chiaro?” Rictor tended to default to surnames, even when caught off-guard and surprised. His clothes were rumpled, his hair mussed, and the man wasn’t wearing a shirt – unlike Ari, this was obviously not a morning social call. He looked over the bard’s shoulder in a mild (but well-suppressed) panic, as if expecting the corsair to follow her in. When Bella didn’t immediately appear, he started frantically combing back through his memory as he and Ari stared at each other across the galley, motionless. There must be a reason she was here, and he thought he remembered Bella mentioning something— “... Oh. Right. You two were meeting for lunch, weren’t you?” Ric was trying to sound casual, as if social propriety weren’t dying a wailing death this very minute. “Rictor,” she finally managed, which was a testament to how surprised she was to see him here. Not that she didn’t know that Bella still saw him occasionally, and not that his half-dressed state caused her any particular distress, but all things considered, seeing him at all was somewhat awkward under the circumstances. Despite her rather adventurous lifestyle, she rarely had opportunities to say, I rolled out of your sister’s bed not two hours ago; and how are you today? Well, at least she hadn’t followed his lead and called him Cassul; that might actually have been a bit too surreal to handle right at the moment. Definitely better not to think about that. “It’s been some time,” she said with lamely feigned ease, which was preferable to the other thoughts running through her mind. “I didn’t think I was early, but don’t mind me.” She smiled a practiced smile and moved, finally, going to set the flowers on the table and rummaging for a mug for herself, since there was coffee nearly brewed. Hopefully, Bella would be here soon - wherever she had gotten to - and Ari wouldn’t have to struggle too long to make conversation. It felt a bit beyond her just now. “We’ll split the difference. You’re a little early, I’m a little – late.” It was a feeble attempt to tactfully wave aside his reason for being here. Well-intentioned, but vague and utterly ineffective, considering they both knew the score. Rictor coughed, clearing his throat. “It’s Ordalian vanilla, hope you’re alright with that.” He tipped his head towards the mid-brew coffee machine, then crossed his arms in an attempt to gain some semblance of decency. The man was comfortable in his own skin – life in the Fighters Guild and living in close quarters with other men tended to strip one of privacy and modesty – but this encounter was jarring purely due to its unexpected nature. He kept casting longing glances towards the doorway, hoping that Arabella would be done with her shower and toiletries and rescue them both soon. In the meantime, though, he fetched three plates and set them down on the narrow table. (Space was a premium on airships, everything built on lean lines and sleek design.) There was already an array of food ready, simply waiting to be consumed. “Don’t worry,” he said quickly. “I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I’ve had something to eat. Won’t interfere with the girls’ day.” “I’m not bothered,” Ari replied automatically. Well, if one was being technical, she was, but not by his presence. “Ordalian vanilla sounds lovely,” she added. There didn’t seem to be much else to say, at least not anything that she was willing to say aloud, so she set about busying her hands, pulling down two more mugs. They proceeded to finish setting the table, barely managing to avoid running into each other in the narrow kitchen. He took up a lot of space, far more than Bella - which was an extremely inane thought, but she had to fill her mind with something. Where was Bella, anyway? The coffee finished brewing, then; she removed the coffee pot and set it on the table after pouring herself a cup. A brief hunt turned up sugar, and she dumped four spoonfuls into her mug, stirring vigorously for something to do. The silence stretched on as she leaned against the counter, took a sip. “I take it our hostess is... detained?” she said, perhaps a bit indelicately, but really, it was far easier thinking about Bella’s dalliance than her own. Four spoonfuls? Rictor watched Ari dose up her coffee and was on the verge of commenting on it, before biting back the remark – he’d known more than a few women with a sweet tooth. It was nothing unusual. Instead, he lapsed back into a restless silence before Ari finally broke it with a question. (Thank Faram, even if it was indelicate.) “Getting ready,” he said apologetically, nursing the steaming cup of coffee between his hands. He drank it black. “She, uh. Takes a lot longer in the morning than I do.” The man now gave a second thought to how he must look, and rubbed at his tousled, uncombed hair, trying in vain to flatten it into something respectable. Rictor normally kept it cropped military-short, but since returning to Emillion, it had started to grow back into its customary curls. Probably needed a trim. “Nice roses,” he said, then winced and took a long sip to rescue himself from that forced compliment. Ric was still sluggish, drowsy and languid – hopefully the caffeine would wake him in a moment and bring him back to keel. He was normally so much better with women, for fuck’s sake. Then again, he normally met them on his own terms, rather than on someone else’s airship, alone and half-naked and hungry. And the bard herself seemed more off-kilter than usual as well, for a reason he couldn’t pinpoint. “Long hair,” Ari said inanely. “A blessing and a curse.” Hours in the bathroom weren’t unheard of, but she really wished Bella would hurry up. After a moment of consideration, she wandered over to the table, took a seat and began filling a plate at random. She would sort out just what she had taken later. “Oh, these - yes, well. I’m quite inundated with them,” she said, sparing a glance at the flowers. “That is, backstage. We all are. Feria’s dressing room is practically a forest bower.” She offered something like her usual carefree smile. She was babbling, because the silence made her uncomfortable - but then, most people thought of her as a chatterbox; she doubted he would notice. “I thought Bella would like these.” She shrugged, bringing the subject back around to the bouquet in question. “Better to take them to someone who will enjoy them than leave them to wilt backstage. That just seems sad, doesn’t it?” There were dozens of arrangements that suffered that fate, anyway. The coffee was doing a great deal for her nerves; as she sipped at it, she relaxed despite herself. “Hungry?” she asked after a moment. “It may all be cold before she graces us with her presence. As I said, long hair.” Not to mention that Bella was the type who would likely leave them alone longer intentionally for purposes of amusement, if she knew the situation was this awkward. There it was: a lifeline, or even two of them. Rictor grabbed his plate and loaded it up with food – a croissant, some sausage, a few slices of cheese on hardy bread, some blackcurrant jam. It was surprisingly less than one might expect from such a large knight, but then again, he was accustomed to eating lightly but often. Rictor took his seat opposite the bard, now busying himself with the meal and the coffee. Anyone peering in on the scene might have thought that these two were the morning-after pair... if it weren’t for the way their conversation limped and staggered, and they patently didn’t wield the warmth of old friends. They were casual acquaintances thrust into an unexpectedly intimate scene. Perhaps he might’ve tried to flatter and woo Ari back when they first met, once upon a time, but that road had long-since diverged. Second lifeline. Ric seized on it: “Oh! About that. Your performance, I mean. It just opened, right? I’d actually like to go see it and bring a friend. Think you know her. Almalexia Lliryn? So I thought we could, you know, catch the show and then stop by to pay our respects afterward. Been hearing good things about it.” He offered a smile, before digging into a sandwich. Ari nibbled on a croissant of her own, grateful for a safe topic of conversation. She was almost feeling fond of the roses at this point, for offering such an easy way out of uncomfortable silence. “It did,” she agreed. “Opening weekend was quite successful - and the show has been quite well-received thus far.” Another bite, as she searched her mind for the name he had given her, then an incredulous look. “You know Lex?” The girl seemed cloistered to a fault, and imagining her with attractive male friends - who apparently wanted to take her to the theater - boggled the mind. Though she supposed Rictor was associated with the cathedral, so it made at least some sense. Still... “Good; she needs to get out more,” she said firmly. She hadn’t even thought to offer - the young woman had barely allowed her to buy coffee in thanks for all her assistance, after all. “For respects, you can come backstage, if you like,” she offered, perhaps rashly, but it couldn’t be retracted now. Surely he would be dressed at the time, and she more prepared for his presence - how bad could it be, really? “If such an idea holds appeal,” she added. “This upcoming weekend would work, or next.” Not closing weekend; she didn’t need two Cassuls in her dressing room at once. That incredulity was, perhaps, well-earned, and Rictor chuckled as he reached for his coffee. “I do indeed. Last couple years. We see each other around the cathedral.” And wherever else he could catch the opportunity, but that didn’t require mentioning. His interest and curiosity was piqued at the offer of backstage, and Ric arched an eyebrow at the young woman opposite him, before dipping his head in thanks. “That’d be – fucking great, actually. Saw tons of productions back home in Kerwon, but I don’t know all that many bards, so I don’t often get to see what things are like on the other side of the curtain. So to speak.” She bit her tongue before she said something unnecessary, about Aspel and theater and her apparent amusement at backstage antics. Rictor’s interest in the offer she shouldn’t have made didn’t actually surprise her, considering all that, but none of it really needed mentioning, lest the conversation lose what little steam it had acquired and drop back into discomfort and intermittent silences. “Let me know the night, then,” she said instead. “I can arrange something with the crew, so that they’ll let you in at the stage door. I certainly do it often enough; it is no trouble. Provided,” she added, a hint of her usual mischief coming to light at last as she continued to relax, “neither you nor Lex mind people in various states of undress rushing about, but then, you at the very least should hardly find it shocking. I promise I’ll be dressed.” Rictor’s expression rippled – first to shock, then renewed self-awareness as he glanced down at his bare chest. Then, finally: amusement and a loud bark of mirth as he found himself laughing. “First off,” he said, marking off his points with one finger against his calloused palm, “I don’t usually rush about like this. You’ve caught me at a bit of an... inconvenience.” That was certainly one way of putting it. “And secondly, if the backstage really is like that, then I think Lex will be the most flustered of the two of us.” Ari laughed. Ah, that was more like it. It might have taken her a bit to find her stride, but she had it now. “Actors are notoriously shameless, you know. We are practically known for it. I would say I hardly notice when someone else behaves in a similarly shameless manner, but then, that would be a lie, and Faram forbid, I wouldn’t want to lie.” Her eyes danced with merriment as she sipped at her coffee and polished off her croissant. “Your... inconvenience is amusing. I would apologize, but then I suspect you got something out of it, too.” She wondered if Bella had simply destroyed his shirt altogether. “I cannot tell everyone to behave for the purposes of your visit, sadly, so she may have to resign herself to being flustered, but I will go out on a limb and say that it is likely good for her.” She firmly believed that too much isolation and propriety wasn’t good for a person. “When would you like to come?” He scratched his collarbone by way of thoughtful deflection. “Maybe the next upcoming weekend?” Rictor asked, still stalling. “I haven’t got a definitive answer from her, but that ought to be fine.” There were other things Rictor could say: that he agreed with her, that Lex could do with some loosening up, that that was the whole purpose of his continued quest. But it seemed odd to bring it up in another woman’s kitchen, especially with all the evidence of last night’s activities writ on his face and bare shoulders. He cleared his throat again, and returned his attention to shoveling down the food in front of him. “As I said, this week or next, it doesn’t much matter,” she told him. “Not closing weekend, if you can. It will be... particularly hectic then, and I may not have much time.” As an excuse, it wasn’t bad, and he wouldn’t know enough to call her on it - even if she suspected her real reasons would meet with his approval, too. She doubted she needed that particular brand of awkward any more than she did. “I do hope you talk her into it.” And perhaps that was enough about that; not that she assumed Bella would care, but it was probably not the best topic of conversation for this place and time, assuming her friend would make her reappearance eventually. They had been here a solid twenty minutes, at least, judging by her nearly empty coffee cup; even Bella’s extensive beauty rituals couldn’t take much longer. As if he could sense their (interminable) time drawing short – and his plate was almost empty – Rictor glanced back up at his accidental breakfast companion. “Sounds like you’ve had time enough for my sister, though,” he said. It wasn’t meant to sound confrontational; it was bland, his tone as neutral as he could make it. The man wore a slight smile, but it was more testing the waters than teasing. She couldn’t deny that she was a bit shocked at the statement - she had expected him to avoid mention of it as studiously as she had been - but she schooled her face to neutrality behind her coffee mug and asked, just as blandly, “Oh, has she been talking to you about me, or are you just listening to rumors?” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Just curious.” Rictor shook his head, attention darting away and back to his food. He couldn’t hold Ari’s gaze properly – not when there was a Cassul being discussed. And bards could carry their poker faces far better than he could, open book that he was. “Certifiable rumours. Eye witnesses,” he said. “But it’s none of my business.” “It isn’t a secret,” she said nonchalantly; even if she was uncomfortable discussing this topic with him, she would never let him know it. “Are you going to be like everyone else and demand all of the salacious details?” Faram, she hoped the bluff worked; she did not want to get into this with him. “No.” There was no hesitation, and this time, Ric’s smile was slightly strained. Why in Faram’s name had he even asked about it? Some misguided curiosity, an aimless nudge at the mysterious figure whose name dogged so much of what he’d heard about his sister lately. Others knew Aspel Cassul far better than he did, he’d been forced to admit. And Ari’s response gave him all the confirmation he needed. Any further details – salacious or no – were the absolute last thing he wanted. “None at all, thanks,” he said quickly. “Just wanted to hear if it was even true or not. Rumours around here aren’t... well, not as fucking reliable as they could be. Being rumours and all.” (And behind it all, there was that bit of cold shock to his mind: Aspel, with a woman? Really?) She breathed a tiny sigh of relief. Well, that had been... relatively painless. But another awkward silence did descend, despite her best efforts, because she really didn’t know what to say to him. Her usual teasing and evasive comments just didn’t seem appropriate, all things considered, and it wasn’t as though she could query him on his thoughts on the matter, which she had to admit inspired some mild but persistent curiosity. A change of subject then - she picked up a plate, gestured with it in his direction. “Pastry?” No one ever said it had to be a good change of subject. And for a moment, it seemed like they were doomed: condemned to sit at this galley table forever, frozen in meandering courtesy and politesse and forced smiles, forever walking in circles, Rictor’s usual bluntness tempered by his sheer mortification at Aspel’s involvement in this. The neverending brunch. Forever. Or at least, that’s how it felt. Rictor was on the verge of simply giving up and splintering the awkward silence when his Faram-blessed saviour finally walked in the door: Arabella, looking as if she’d been up for hours, perfectly coiffed and preened, her hair and makeup and clothing immaculate. Rictor beside her looked like a disheveled brute, but he immediately shot to his feet and to the woman’s side, leaving an empty plate and coffee mug behind. “Nice meeting you,” he said to Ari, the words almost tripping over themselves in his haste. Then he pressed a rough, whiskery kiss to Bella’s cheek, then squeezed past her to disappear through the doorway – back to the corsair’s bedroom to scavenge his clothing from the floor, and then flee the airship. He had duties to return to. Right. Left with Bella in the galley, Ari took one last, long sip of her coffee until her mug was drained, and gave the other woman a long-suffering look. Bella, damn her, was probably amused by the whole thing - surely she could piece enough of it together to realize - but all Ari said was, “Well, that was... interesting.” Even if Bella was likelier than not to get the entire story out of her before long. She picked up the coffee pot and tried not to listen to the noises coming from the back of the ship as Rictor readied himself to depart, then added, “So, are you far too beautiful now to eat lunch?” Food was going to be the default subject for a little while, it seemed. Fortunately for her, the answer appeared to be no. |