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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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[May. 20th, 2010|10:44 am] |
*has continued on his typical, bewildered way since the day the impossible happened* *isn't entirely convinced it happened at all, mind you, especially when things have mostly gone back to normal—pre-crash normal, that is—wherein he is bumbling and Arien is amusedly annoyed with him most days (and damned if it wasn't so much easier when he could think coolly and clearly about any of this)*
*told Summer nothing of this, of course; he's mostly been working up the courage to break up with her (which does seem sort of idiotic when nothing much seems to have truly changed between him and Arien)*
*at any rate, decides that today is the day and walks next door, finally knocking after several false starts* |
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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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[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. 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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[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. 4th, 2008|09:33 pm] |
*shortly before she's scheduled to fly back to Ossiriand, goes by Arien's condo to drop off a book she'd borrowed (and to say goodbye)*
*thinks there's something odd about Arien's little front lawn before she recognizes the pattern in the flowers strewn across the grass*
*and then she does recognize it, and the blossoms are moonflowers and they spell out "I'M SORRY"*
*sighs, crosses the courtyard to Tilion's, and knocks firmly on his door* |
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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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[Jun. 4th, 2008|10:37 am] |
*a few days after taking up temporary residence in Menegroth (after arranging for some of her things to be shipped from school and for Fániel to hang onto the rest), gets to work at Arien's apartment, having agreed to be something of a gofer in exchange for the opportunity to observe and study the nature-defying aspects of Ainur abilities and behaviors*
*settles in at Arien's computer and begins archiving Arien's appointments, notes, and memos for the past week according to her six or so types of "absolutely essential" indexing* |
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[May. 15th, 2008|06:49 pm] |
*stumbles home, lugging a mostly-empty bottle of rum he swiped from the "reception" (thanks, Fingon!), tux in complete disarray*
*only managed to find the place after [literally] running into the guy who owns the bicycle repair shop down the street, who [literally] pointed him in the right direction*
*bumps his way into the kitchen and pulls a less-empty tub of appropriately named Rocky Road out of the freezer* *takes tub and bottle into the living room, where he sprawls on the couch*
Bach'lr life issssa...life. Yeah. *douses the ice cream liberally with rum and starts flipping through the channels on TV* Ooh. Affair to Remember. |
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[May. 13th, 2008|11:44 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | &amrod&galadriel, &anaire&aredhel, &anaire&argon, &anaire&fingon, &angrod&finduilas, &angrod&finrod, &aredhel&argon, &aredhel&celegorm, &aredhel&tilion, &argon&celegorm, &arien&tilion, &celegorm&nerdanel, &curufin&finduilas, &earwen&galadriel, &finarfin&galadriel, &finarfin&nerdanel, &finduilas&maglor, &fingolfin&fingon, &fingon&galadriel, &finrod&idril, &finrod&turgon, &idril&turgon, &maglor&nerdanel, &orome&tilion, &orome&vana, &vana&yavanna, @mithrim, amrod, anaire, angrod, aredhel, argon, arien, celegorm, curufin, earwen, finarfin, finduilas, fingolfin, fingon, finrod, galadriel, idril, maglor, nerdanel, orome, tilion, turgon, vana, yavanna | ] |
| [ | Mood |
| |  anxious | ] |
*wakes up on the morning of his sister's wedding and is determined to be happy and supportive and happy and --*
*sighs and gets ready and goes to the venue (one of the courtyards in the Royal Compound) which is completely bedecked with white flowers*
*takes his seat on the bride's side and avowedly does not look at the empty seats on either side of him*
*realises he's ridiculously early when the band arrive to tune up* |
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[May. 13th, 2008|09:15 am] |
*may have, perhaps, possibly arrived in Hithlum slightly early* (*will naturally never admit to this*)
*does not actually become aware of this fact until he's wasted an entire day avoiding all the insanity within a two-mile radius of the wedding venue*
*discovers that one of the only available unrelated activities boils down to sitting in the bar at his hotel on the eve of his cousin's wedding, drinking whiskey and arguing with the bartender (seemingly the only man in Hithlum not currently employed by the bride and groom) about why baseball is not an adequate metaphor for life* |
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[May. 8th, 2008|10:34 pm] |
*assumes thinks Írissë and Fingon seem to have the wedding plans under control, with the way they've been cooped up in the office lately*
*pulls together random scraps of paper with notes and checklists to see if there's anything left for her? to do*
*is especially curious when Tilion's going to arrive and if he'll have time to have a real chat and everything he sounds like a dream* :)
*sees "seating chart" on one of her bits of paper*
*pours herself a very large glass of cheap rosé wine and sits down with coloured pins, a guest list, and a layout of all the tables* |
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pissed off
bitchy
busy
calm
weird
lonely
drunk