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[Jun. 7th, 2010|04:13 pm] |
*is pretty pleased with Tilion's progress on-track this season and has been kept so busy that she hasn't had time to think about his progress off-track, so to speak*
*doesn't really realise that her tendency only to contact Tilion about business matters might confuse the poor Maia but, on a rare free weekend, decides to call over to Tilion's apartment with a bottle of wine and maybe some paperwork, relating to a few endorsement deals* *at least makes the effort to dress sexy nice* *has just closed her front door when she sees that Summer is leaving Tilion's apartment* *!!*
*walks over to her and calls out chipperly* Isn't it past your bedtime? |
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[Feb. 12th, 2010|09:08 am] |
*arranges a lovely, romantic picnic for himself and his girlfriend one afternoon (and okay, picnics in Menegroth parks don't quite have the same effect, but real sunshine is overrated anyway)*
*is having a perfectly marvelous time until Summer drops the bomb—she is thinking about moving back to Ossiriand to be closer to her ailing father*
*listens patiently and supportively to all the reasons why, and later that evening, after he's returned home, crosses the courtyard to Arien's and pounds on her front door* |
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[Feb. 1st, 2010|11:01 pm] |
*has enjoyed the closed season like never before, mostly because it has meant she has not had any direct contact with Tilion and would have convinced herself that he does not and never has existed except that he still lives across the courtyard (and she still manages his business and career affairs)*
*hasn't been remotely interested in his relationship with that irritating twerp next door (whose cat she hasn't yet run over) and certainly hasn't made note of the fact that there is no sign of any engagement ring or, indeed, any baby bump*
*is currently in Ossiriand (briefly) on business for Vána and has enjoyed having the open sky overhead and the (rapidly melting) snow under her feet* |
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[Aug. 31st, 2009|06:10 pm] |
*arrives back at the apartment complex in Delving after a fulfilling-and-full day of work (or getting in fights with other driver's managers)*
*sits in the car for a few moments, finishing off a final, if rather restrained, argument with Clint's manager* *is good enough at her job to emerge victorious and with the promise of a public apology*
*swings her car open and is about to step out when she hears an unexpected oof* |
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[Aug. 21st, 2009|12:07 am] |
*arranges to meet Tilion at his apartment for a business meeting over coffee* *is in her element again, with the racing season due to reason in the next couple of weeks and her client showing no ill effects from his recent trauma (except for that near-implacable cool which is generally nore intriguing than annoying)*
*idly supposes that this interest in their new, preppy, sunshine-y neighbour is mildly irritating but doesn't think that it is amounting to anything* *not that she'd care if it did, obviously*
*with an element of cheeriness in her voice that has, of late, been present more often in connection with Tilion, calls through his door* *can't knock because she is carrying two takeaway coffee cups* Tilion? You about? Uh, quickly? Your frappucino's about to become an extra-hot cappucino! |
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[Aug. 10th, 2009|12:07 pm] |
*has had a restful few days of doing not much more than sleep (dream) or watch television or tapes of old races*
*despite this calm pleasantness, does have the rather odd impression that this is unusual for him, though he knows he hasn't given an archery lesson or done anything very different or exciting in a long time*
*goes out for a short drive and ends up wandering around a market not too far from his apartment complex, wondering if perhaps he ought to call Ossë or Amillo to see if they want to hang out, or maybe go home and say hello to that cute mortal girl who just moved in next door*
*idly looks over some melons and wishes Yavanna was about to tell him which ones are ripe* |
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[Aug. 4th, 2009|01:34 am] |
*wakes up on Tilion's couch very early in the morning (long before sunrise, strangely enough)*
*stares at the ceiling for a while as a whole range of emotions pass through her (rage, anger, irritation, annoyance)* *offers a final glare in the direction of his bedroom, with no trace of the initial, fleeting gratitude she felt at having him back and whole(-ish)*
*goes back to her own apartment, ire steadily building, and goes into her bathroom* *turns on the shower and waits until she is shivering and even angrier* |
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[Aug. 2nd, 2009|03:55 pm] |
*materializes inside his Menegroth apartment—in the kitchen, in fact—just as though he's coming home from a longish day*
*flips on the lights and automatically walks over to the coffeepot, because he thinks he should* *is occupying himself with looking at the way the light bounces off the shiny carafe when he catches sight of his reflection in it (the faint burn scars he crafted, again, for no specific reason but because he thought he should)*
*decides he doesn't want coffee after all, instead pouring himself a glass of cold water* *very calmly takes this into the living room (turning the lights on here as well) and sits on the sofa, watching the glass sweat on the coffee table and thinking of absolutely nothing* |
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[Jul. 12th, 2009|09:59 pm] |
*after an unscheduled (well, more unscheduled than usual) stopover in Menegroth, has made it to Ossiriand* *never did find his lighter, but supposes these things happen for a reason* *hopes it finds someone who needs it more*
*wanders about for a good week or three while, taking in the overall quiet of the place, until he happens upon a nice little neighborhood with a nice little park, in which there seems to be a bit of trouble brewing*
*pauses to lean against a nearby-ish tree, understated and unnoticed, and curious as ever about the Children's children (at their best)(at their worst)*
ETA: *is having a full day thus far, with no less than three Firsts: met a curiously Musical little boy, carried out an insect funeral, and then indulged in blue-swirled ice cream*
*sees Domíran on his way before traipsing on out of the park and making his way further into town proper, thinking to see what else he can get into before day's end* *what? is used to being busy* |
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[Jul. 12th, 2009|02:38 pm] |
*returns to Delving, as per Salmar's inadvertent advice*
*decides to adopt a watch-and-wait tactic at first but lasts about a day (just because she's Immortal doesn't mean that time doesn't drag)* *spends about half her time at Tilion's, just in case he decides to re-embody there, but dashes back to her own apartment, in case he calls there*
*after a couple of days of this, thinks that she needs to be more pro-active* *doesn't suppose that putting out flyers with a picture of Tilion and the word MISSING: Maia; answers to the name of 'Tilion', very friendly and house-trained! will help at all* *doesn't entirely discount it as an option, though*
*sits in her own apartment, drumming her fingers on the arm of the couch* C'mon, Tilion. It's nearly been a month. |
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[Jun. 23rd, 2009|07:24 pm] |
*having spent quite a few weeks at sea, comes to shore near Cape Balar* *doesn't even attempt to re-enter Delving because all the talkings-to in the world won't make the springs and rivers and pipes change their minds about admitting him*
*shaking the water out of his hair (and skin and bones), ambles into his favourite pub in this part of the world - the Anchorman* *is surprised to pick up on unexpected, but familiar, strains of Maiar music in the vicinity* |
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[Jun. 16th, 2009|09:48 pm] |
*after that little incident, restricts her communication with Tilion to the purely professional via a third party*
*goes to the race, nonetheless, because it will cause more grief (with the media) if she is not there* *takes her usual place down at the pitlane, perched on a stool, eyes trained on a screen as she listens to the team communications through a headset* |
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[Jun. 13th, 2009|09:08 am] |
*having won six of the first seven races of the season(!), decides it wouldn't be a bad idea to thank his manager for her tireless efforts in terrifying diverting the media and his sponsors so that he can concentrate on the important stuff* *also, they've achieved something like a delicate cease-fire, which has been...suspenseful educational?*
*dithers for an hour in an upscale jewelry shop in Cape Balar (on the eve of his next race) before begging a shopgirl for help* *ultimately decides on a diamond pendant (on a tungsten chain for added heat resistance)—expensive but tasteful, just the sort of thing she'd like—and has it nicely wrapped*
*returns to the hotel they're both staying in and makes his way up to her suite (it's a beautiful day out but one weak cocktail is liable to get the entire beach turned to glass)* *knocks on the door, box in hand, shifting his weight from one foot to the other nervously (every conversation with Arien is...an adventure? a journey? or maybe just a lesson in masochism)* |
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[Sep. 29th, 2008|09:30 am] |
*has truly taken Arien's most recent missive rather seriously since Argon's last visit, keeping busy with his archery students and even switching to decaf once when the threat of apology seemed imminent*
*finally reaches a breaking point and, after popping his latest peace offering into a bag, takes it across the courtyard to Arien's*
*knocks on her front door continuously, thinking she'll at least have to open it to tell him to get lost* |
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[Sep. 8th, 2008|03:50 pm] |
*gathers up the moonflowers and deposits them in Tilion's kitchen, with a note attached: Next time, I'm burning them.*
*travels to Cape Balar and stops into a quaint little tourist-y coffee shop to buy two coffees*
*goes down onto the beach and scowls looks out over the waves (looking distinctly choppy) (autumn is coming?)* |
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[Aug. 26th, 2008|08:00 pm] |
*reconsitutes herself in her apartment quite some time after race-day (aka the worst day of her Órë-bound life to date)* *seriously considered hiding out in a volcano for a week or a month or longer but hasn't fought tooth and nail to stay corporeal for so long just so she can wuss out now*
*puts on the kettle and walks over to check her answering machine* |
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[Aug. 24th, 2008|10:14 am] |
*climbs out of his car after the victory lap at the Mistland Grand Prix and is immediately swarmed by people*
*ignores the throngs of reporters (how'd they get past security, anyway?) and the whoops of delight from the crowd and the bottles of champagne being sprayed everywhere and searches for the one person all his wins are for, no matter who else he may happen to be in love with at the time* |
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[Aug. 18th, 2008|06:26 pm] |
*walks into a pub on the shore of Lake Mithrim, looking for something that will pass as lunch*
*is (as always) talking (rather stridently) on her phone* No, of course, I'm not worried. So what if he's not on poll? Do I sound worried? Hey, I'd worry more about that whizzkid who is at the top of the grid? How's he gonna feel looking at my guy in his rear-view mirror? Yeah. Yeah, I reckon he'll be shitting himself too.
*hangs up without so much as a goodbye and walks up to the bar to look at the food menu, still fuming (rather literally)* |
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[Jul. 6th, 2008|05:24 pm] |
*after a busy day working, which included a highly entertaining working lunch, does something she should have done quite some time ago*
*calls over to Tilion's apartment and rings the doorbell* |
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[Jul. 6th, 2008|12:48 pm] |
*is rather pleased that certain developments did, in fact, develop, even if it was for one night only*
*is less pleased about this* *is not the Maia of Pub Brawls, damnit!*
*goes into a pub in Delving (the Rose; one of the establishments belonging to that nice silver-haired girl*
*sits down at a corner table and orders a sherry* *takes out his Folder of Stuff and begins to leaf through its contents*
(*what? it's a working lunch!*) |
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pissed off
calm
bitchy
busy
cold. also wet.
weird
anxious, DAMNIT
blah
lonely
cranky