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Daphina Taraias (inmyelements) wrote in watchers_rp,

“The lords who continue to try are often among those who can acknowledge two men can be attracted to each other but flounder when the concept of two women is introduced.” The smile she breathed actually pitied them. Mostly for lacking a certain capacity for critical thinking. But at the warning, no matter how much of it was teasing, Daphina’s features shifted into the signature smile she had once heard described as ‘potentially all-knowing and rather amused’. “You must know it isn’t possible to corrupt one with ‘honour’ among their family words,” she said in a tone that matched her expression, a moment before allowing herself a brief laugh. “Especially when ‘discretion’ is the other half.” Although if she was to be honest, she did not know how much of herself was truly that honourable or how things like that were quantified. The only rumours she had ever heard circulated about herself tended to paint her as quite the harpy or simply the model daughter. Whether or not she chose to disprove the former depended on her company.

Cheeks darkening from the renewed phoenix comparison, one of Daphina’s shoulders rose as though it was stuck halfway through a shrug and stayed there. She wanted to say that she did not think she quite did the phoenix justice if that were the case, but then Gia would say something else, she would turn the same colour as her dress -- and did that not seem frightfully self-serving? Despite being sure her own train of thought had turned her face the same crimson as her dress, she dropped her shoulder again and wrinkled her nose. “As a rule, precious few men thank me for anything.” The fact that the loss of Lord Ridell’s gratitude (and possibly good graces) meant very little to her went unsaid. “If you wish to learn in the smithy you should have that right.” After all, the lady who worked there obviously learned from someone. The commoner-versus-nobility argument was terribly tedious when used as a reason for noble women to not do something.

The faintest panicked mantra (please do not spark, do not burn, do not freeze--) played in a corner of Daphina’s head, though she was distracted by her need to swallow as she truly took note of Gia’s skin. She had the strangest concern that if she did swallow, it would somehow be very loud and demand attention. No, it made no sense and she knew that, but she was also preoccupied watching Gia’s face with fascination while she made her assessment about her hands. There was something about her manner of movement that only cemented the idea Gia was part faerie even further in Daphina’s mind. I have delicate wrists? That was something the blonde would have considered further if the question that followed it had not suddenly knocked from her a breath that she’d not realised she was holding. In the space it took her to breath in again, she became acutely aware (unless she was imagining it) that the heat in her face had spread right down her neck. “Yes.” It was likely some degree of improper to answer that -- had Gia been anyone else, Daphina would have had little to no problem pretending nothing had been said -- but it was a little late for that now. So she actually considered the answer given and elaborated. “Perhaps not the soles of my feet, but they are subjected to the same bath oils. Else I daresay my hands would be more rough: I like riding without gloves.” Biting her lip, she wondered if it was either bad form or simply improper to turn that question around and send it back -- or both. So she settled for watching Gia and knowing her own ears were probably pink by now. Against blonde hair that was most unflattering.