Ari ♫ ♪ ♬ (gracenotes) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-03-16 17:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, arielle chiaro, cressida karth |
Who: Ari & Cressida
What: Being girls!
Where: A day spa~
When: This afternoon
Rating: PG-ish
Status: Complete!
Considering her friend’s new career would include a lot of mud and sleeping outdoors, Ari figured that a second visit to the small spa at the edge of the Commoners’ District seemed the wisest method of celebration. Ari hadn’t quite managed to talk the other woman into wasting an entire day on pampering (one thing at a time, Ari supposed; she’d get there yet), but they had the rest of the afternoon, anyway, to bask in the loose, relaxed comfort that came after a particularly good massage. They sat for the moment, wrapped in fluffy robes the same pale periwinkle as the walls, sipping on glasses of fizzing golden liquid (Ari’s, sadly, was only juice, but the champagne seemed to be doing the archer good). There were facials in their immediate future. Ari popped a strawberry from the plate of prettily arranged fruit resting on the padded bench between them and smiled contentedly. Really, could this afternoon get any better? “I’m going to ensure you sit down and get your toenails painted a ridiculous color before I let you leave here,” she warned. “Big tough Rangers ought to have pretty pink flowers on their feet. I’m sure it’s good luck.” The champagne might’ve been doing Cressida a little too good. Not enough to get her flying -- she was a lightweight, so it would only take a glass or two of champagne to get her to that point -- but at least to keep her a little toasty and comfortable. The spa alone could’ve done the deed, and yet what was getting into the Rangers without a celebratory of fancy champagne with a good friend? She grinned easily. “I’m hardly big and tough,” she reasoned, settling the glass against the top of her thigh. “If anyone, that’s Zacheus, but he doesn’t need any painted toenails.” How hilarious would it be, though? Tall, stoic Zach, of all people, with flowers painted on his nails. It was too good. “Oh,” Ari said, letting out a giggle as the same mental image occurred to her, “if only. Maybe I should talk… someone I know... into doing it while he’s asleep.” No need to implicate Drake -- and really, no way to know if Drake and the archer were still involved. It could have fizzled out -- Drake hadn’t offered any info, and she hadn’t asked (and then, there was the monk’s new interest, which she certainly understood better than most could be rather all-consuming). “It’s a shame that even if I were able to maneuver it, no one else would ever see the results.” She sighed dramatically, sipped at her juice. “Alas. I suppose we should leave the painted toenails to the two of us. Though considering the weather, our boots may preclude anyone from seeing them, sadly. Is it summer yet?” The archer laughed into her glass once she’d lifted it. “It isn’t even spring yet. Summer’ll come in time,” she assured her, sipping quietly. “If my brothers see my toes, they’ll have something to say, like ‘Since when are you such a girl, Sid?’” For comedic effect, she lowered her voice to mimic one of the two jokers. They had known her since she was a kid-- she was no Tlisa, who liked her dresses and pretty things more, and she’d never confessed to being particularly girly. Still, today was a day to be as such, especially considering why they were here. “I’ll paint their nails in their sleep sometime,” she promised aloud. “I believe I am an excellent influence on you,” Ari said, entirely satisfied with the prospect. “You will have to tell me exactly how that works out for you after you’ve done it. Make certain the colors are particularly… elegant. All the young men are just mad for fuchsia these days. And you may tell them that you’ve always been a girl. A very pretty one, at that.” Her smile wasn’t exactly flirtatious -- they weren’t that sort of friends -- but she could appreciate what she saw, couldn’t she? “If they’ve failed to notice, it is certainly due to blindness or stupidity, even if they are your brothers.” It was probably the champagne that prevented the flush across Cressida’s cheeks and had her waving a flippant hand instead. “They’ve told me I’m pretty, but they’re just saying that because we’re related,” she insisted, tapping herself on the nose. “They’re the only boys who say it to me, anyway.” “Well, there’s at least one girl who’s saying it to you,” Ari said lightly, toasting her with her glass. She’d prodded at this subject off and on, still remaining without a conclusive answer on the subject, but someday. And Cress was drinking today… “Maybe the men in your life are scared you’ll skewer them with a well-aimed arrow. In my experience, we ladies are made of sterner stuff when it comes to such things.” The archer directed her laugh upward, missing the implication. “I’m not going to skewer anyone with an arrow! I’ve almost hit people before, but not since the early days of making class. Can you even imagine?” she said into her glass, sipping. “You’re right, though. We’re tougher.” “I think the fear is that you’ll do it on purpose,” Ari said, bemused. “Kind of the way you’re avoiding the subject, I think!” Surely no one was this clueless! Cress was innocent and all, but really now. Ari found the constant avoidance (under the guise of naïveté) almost impressive. “And of course we’re tougher,” she followed up. “We’re not afraid to go out and have adventures with pink flowers on our toes. I’m not sure how, but it makes us tougher.” Genuinely confused, Cressida lowered her glass. “What subject?” “The subject,” Ari said with the tone of someone explaining something to a child, “of ladies thinking you’re pretty. Or gentlemen. Assuming you’re not picky -- which, in fact, is something I can’t seem to make my mind up about, and you keep finding ways to avoid telling me.” Oh. Oh. As it dawned on the younger girl, who suddenly found the contents of her champagne glass very interesting, she shifted in place, not realizing how very suspicious it made her next words seem. “I’m-- I don’t know, do I have to know? I think they’re both...” She lifted her glass and muttered the “lovely” into the rim before sipping. Ari managed to stifle her giggle at the obvious embarrassment that she had elicited. Still, this was the clearest sort of answer she had ever gotten, and she made mental note of Cress’ candor whilst drinking (something to keep in mind for later, perhaps). “They really are, aren’t they?” she said, easy and comfortable in the topic. “I am the last to tell anyone they have to choose, of course -- that’s the reason I said, ‘assuming you’re not picky.’” It really meant double the pool of people to whom ress might be introduced if the moment seemed right. “With that said, then, if the boys aren’t tough enough to handle you, that’s their loss.” Somehow Cressida kept from blowing more bubbles into her champagne, and settled the glass back down against her thigh, fingers tighter around the neck. She dodged these sort of questions for a reason-- the reason being she didn’t exactly know. How could she say what or who she liked without any experience? It was like saying “I like chocolate cake” without knowing how it actually tasted. Or something like that. “What do you mean, you’re the last?” she inquired, trying to pull the topic away from herself. Ari laughed. “Darling, it would be terribly hypocritical of me to tell anyone to pick one over the other,” she said, “considering how inordinately fond I am of both, in entirely different ways.” She took another sip of her drink and said, with a sly little smile, “Not everything they say about me is a lie, I have to admit, though tales of my dozen lovers are slightly exaggerated.” Oh, well-- oh. The archer couldn’t admit to being entirely familiar with rumors, no matter who they came from, but this one she knew. She hadn’t thought to approach those in question about it, considering how private something like that should’ve been, so she’d kept quiet. But now the can of worms had been opened, and Cressida didn’t know how to scoop them back inside. She shifted in her seat, scratching idly at her nose. “You shouldn’t have to pick. Picking is… hard.” As were words, apparently. “So you’re with… you’re, um--” Maybe a little too hard. “I’m with?” Ari repeated, drawling the words out, her voice amused. Oh, she could only imagine the things Cressida had heard. “Darling,” she said, “we’re friends, after all. If you really want to know the truth, you need only ask me.” Now whether Cressida would have the daring to take her up on that offer was another thing entirely. “I will stand in solidarity with you on one thing, however -- picking is hard.” She popped another berry into her mouth, smiled like the metaphorical cat that ate the canary, and added, “And unnecessary.” Well. That practically answered Cressida’s question, but she drew her gaze to her friend again, pondering on how to phrase her next words. This wasn’t really her business at all, and yet curiosity was more or less insatiable when alcohol was involved. Had there not been a buzz, maybe she wouldn’t have had such courage. Her nail rapped against the class. “You’re… you’re seeing Councilor Cassul, aren’t you?” “Seeing?” Ari said, as if tasting the word, trying it on for size. “I suppose you could say that I’m seeing her,” she said at last, thinking that Cressida’s definition and hers likely varied. “We do go out sometimes. Mostly not, however.” Her smile was a bit wicked; they did tend to prefer staying in. “So yes, that one’s true, more or less.” The wicked smile didn’t go missed, and the archer went a little pink, understanding. “And Drake, too?” Her words were a little softer this time. The bit of softness didn’t go unnoticed, but Ari responded with the same ease: “I’m not keeping him the dark, if that’s what’s worrying you. It isn’t… that way, with us.” It wasn’t really that way with her and anyone. “But yes, that one’s true too, more or less. I told you -- I’m appalling and shocking. See what a friend you’ve made for yourself?” “You’re not appalling,” Cressida shot back almost immediately, almost alarming herself with how quickly it came. “It’s just-- I wouldn’t know how to… it’s not weird to me.” Words were not her strong suit today, evidently. “It’s not weird, they’re both really good people, and I’m happy for you,” she finished, her smile genuine and not reflecting the loneliness it might’ve under a more sober circumstance. Ari laughed. “A joke, darling. I’m uncertain what it says about me -- other than I’d make a terrible proper young lady -- but I’m not the least bit ashamed of myself.” She polished off her sparkling juice and added, “I’m of the opinion that people ought to enjoy each other, and in this case, we’re all doing that.” And then some, really. “One of the reasons I’m always poking at you -- one of these days, I’ll work out your type, and then you won’t be able to stop me from introducing you to people.” She grinned. “It’s a hobby.” A light flush passed over Cressida’s cheeks to join the already existing flush from her champagne, and feeling put on the spot again, she laughed into her lap, the smile one part amused and two parts sheepish. Still, for as much as it embarrassed her, it was worth a thought. What was her type to begin with? Someone like Zach, she imagined, who could quietly understand and watch the world without questioning it too much. Someone kind, someone strong. “Maybe I’ll tell you when I know myself,” she said, smile lingering as an attendant came up to them to fetch them for their appointment. Saved by the bell, as it were, but she could appreciate the prodding all the same. After another glass of champagne, of course. |