Ari ♫ ♪ ♬ (gracenotes) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-12-09 02:48:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, !plot: faram's mass gala, arielle chiaro, damia ravin |
Who: Ari & Damia
What: Love notes~
Where: A rehearsal room!
When: Backdated: Thursday, 12/5
Rating: PG (innuendo~)
Status: Complete!
Ari breezed into the rehearsal room early -- for once -- a smile on her face (some might say a bit of a glow -- though she would disagree) and cheeks rosy from the cold. It had been some time since she had made an appearance here, but she did not let that bother her in the least. Life was -- “Well, look what the cat dragged in.” Fellina sat, one absurdly long leg crossed over the other and glared daggers at her. In her corner, Damia was displaying a very good (and theatrical) attempt at shock. Corinne just looked pained. -- Perfect. Life was just about perfect. “Why, hello there, ladies.” she said, setting her cloak, instrument case, and music folder aside, stepping into the room and leaning in to kiss the air just beside Fellina’s cheeks (her first, of course). “I am back from the wilds where I submitted myself to the horrors of sleeping in snow for the greater good of the populace, et cetera.” Corinne was next -- she tilted her face up with a long-suffering sigh. “And how have you been, my lovelies?” A wink at Damia and an airy, “Your kiss is for later, darling, when we’ve no witnesses to deter us.” The feigned shock on the blonde’s face was replaced with an easy smile as she shifted, easily crossing one leg over the other. It had been theatrics from the beginning; she’d already known Ari was coming, but couldn’t help but play along. Such opportunities couldn’t be resisted. “Why wait, dove, when I can warm you up right now? I could say my lap, as always, is free, but I’m afraid someone may take offense to that.” Not one look was directed to Fellina, but it was clear she was the party in question-- she often was. “Alas.” Ari let out a deep sigh. “How we must suffer.” A deadpan, from Corinne: “You have three minutes until rehearsal, if you hurry.” Ari giggled. “Oh, I don’t think I can hurry that much. I’m a bit more thorough than that, I’m afraid.” “You look more like you’ve been on vacation than off slaying ogres,” Fellina said snidely. Ari thought of the nearly two days spent in Aspel’s bed (and, to be honest, elsewhere around her apartment) and let her smile widen. As vacations went, it could certainly qualify under some standards. “Good genes, darling, I assure you. Some of us are just lucky, I suppose. And no one said anything about ogres.” From her seat, Damia succumbed to a wistful sigh, resting her cheek upon her palm, supporting that elbow with the other. “My little songbird, so brave and bold. How could I ever compare?” Often times, I’d rather face a horde of ogres than be here, she added, silently. The hand fell. “Fellatio, are you accompaniment today or would you like me to bang on the piano a little?” Ari’s hand flew to her mouth, though she couldn’t quite conceal the snort of laughter -- which was, however, quite drowned out by Fellina’s squawk of, “Don’t call me that, you -- you…” “Improvisation,” Ari managed then, “will never be your strength, darling.” “Time,” Corinne called. “I’ll play.” The corsair sighed without much conviction. “Shame.” All four women were soon taking their belongings, chairs and all, to circle the piano. The distance between was close, but not too close-- Damia’s knee knocked into their newest arrival’s, but she covered up the movement with a quick lean in. Lips nearly to the shell of the younger woman’s ear, she murmured, “You haven’t missed much, frankly.” And if a folded note was casually slipped into Ari’s folder with a practiced sleight of hand, why, it could’ve only been a figment of one’s imagination. Indeed, so amused was Ari by the proceedings that she didn’t notice -- at least, not until she opened her music and beheld the scrap of paper peeking out between pages two and three of the score. Sweet little cockatiel, o, how I long for you! For thou art as glorious to this night, being over my head as is a winged messenger of Faram, and it is a most crying shame we've not yet broken in my bed. I shall henceforth expect this to be rectified! Yours forever, Pigeon Her second snort of laughter was, fortunately, quite covered by the opening chord, which Corinne played rather loudly. It was good to be back. |