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Flavor of the Day - 1/4/09 - Zealous
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1252 (immediately after game
Word Count : 637
Word of the Day : Zealous - full of zeal; actively enthusiastic
I've challenged myself to at least 1 FotD a week. So here's making good on that for the first week of the year. Not entirely thrilled with it. It's been kind of a rough day, not much chance to write or even think.
“Masakari, oh, dear Masakari,” said Terrel. Flowers still tucked behind his back, he closed the distance between them in two great strides. “Radiant as the moon and yet twice as distant,” he continued, as the blonde turned to fix him with an icy stare. “How my poor heart aches to bask in your glow, but even for a moment.”
“Save your lines for someone lacking enough in sense to appreciate them,” said Masakari.
Terrel threw a hand to his heart, summoning the best look of agony he could muster. “You wound me! As if I would come to you with pretense.”
Masakari’s glare grew colder still.
He slipped one of the flowers from his bouquet and brandished in offering. “For you,” he said, with a bit of a bow. “A token of my love. I would that I might find something half as beautiful as yourself, but, alas, this will have to do.” He ventured a smile until he followed her gaze to the arm still pinned behind him.
“And the rest?” said Masakari, one slender, gold brow arching.
He forced his smile even wider, the lavish, red blossom held in front of him bobbing on its overburdened stem. “Hmm?”
“Terrel, I know your games,” she said, plucking the single bloom from his hand though her eyes were on the bunch. “So who’s winning tonight, you or Harmon?”
He straightened himself, the flowers flying out from behind his back. “Of course I’m wi- I mean, why would I need anyone but you, my dear?” he said, the smile sliding back into place. “Here, take them all.” He pressed the rest of the feathery blooms into her hands with the first.
“You know,” he continued, edging closer as Masakari stared numbly at the awkward bundle in her hands. “I have a lovely little spot in mind, where we could go.” He let one hand stray to her shoulder, fingers gliding over the smooth, white flesh her gown left exposed. “Quiet, secluded, cozy. Certainly not enough room for pretense.” His hand slid down her back, the tips dipping beneath the edge of the crisp, blue satin. “Among other things.”
“Yes,” said Masakari, twisting away. “I am quite certain you know many such places.”
He tried to keep the smile in place, the rejected hand still hovering in the air behind her. “You would not be disappointed.”
Masakari rounded on him, eyes narrowing. Terrel shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other under the delightfully smoldering glare. “You will have to be,” she said. “Because I will not be coming with you.”
Terrel frowned, tracing with his eyes the low swoop of her neckline. “Oh, so very close, and yet…” He sighed. “You know not what you’re missing, my dear.”
“I think I can certainly bear such suffering.”
“Oh, but why?” he said, daring to reach once more for her shoulder. “When it should be so easy to appease-”
Her look shifted suddenly to one far more pleasant. Terrel’s breath hitched as he dared to hope she might be coming to her senses. The moment was short lived, as he realized her sights were set far across the room, and his outstretched hand met, not with flesh, but with a bundle of stems.
“Perhaps another time,” she said, gaze still distant as she pressed the flowers into his grasp.
Terrel opened his mouth, not quite sure what to say, as she took her leave. He stood for long moments, staring at the rejected blossoms slowly drooping in his hands, even after Masakari had disappeared among the crowd of dancers that filled the room.
“Terrel?”
He spun to face a small figure oversized skirts of yellow regarding him meekly.
“Ah, Lonna,” he said, the smile returning as he tried to force some shape back into the bouquet. “For you, my dear.”
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1252 (immediately after game
Word Count : 637
Word of the Day : Zealous - full of zeal; actively enthusiastic
I've challenged myself to at least 1 FotD a week. So here's making good on that for the first week of the year. Not entirely thrilled with it. It's been kind of a rough day, not much chance to write or even think.
“Masakari, oh, dear Masakari,” said Terrel. Flowers still tucked behind his back, he closed the distance between them in two great strides. “Radiant as the moon and yet twice as distant,” he continued, as the blonde turned to fix him with an icy stare. “How my poor heart aches to bask in your glow, but even for a moment.”
“Save your lines for someone lacking enough in sense to appreciate them,” said Masakari.
Terrel threw a hand to his heart, summoning the best look of agony he could muster. “You wound me! As if I would come to you with pretense.”
Masakari’s glare grew colder still.
He slipped one of the flowers from his bouquet and brandished in offering. “For you,” he said, with a bit of a bow. “A token of my love. I would that I might find something half as beautiful as yourself, but, alas, this will have to do.” He ventured a smile until he followed her gaze to the arm still pinned behind him.
“And the rest?” said Masakari, one slender, gold brow arching.
He forced his smile even wider, the lavish, red blossom held in front of him bobbing on its overburdened stem. “Hmm?”
“Terrel, I know your games,” she said, plucking the single bloom from his hand though her eyes were on the bunch. “So who’s winning tonight, you or Harmon?”
He straightened himself, the flowers flying out from behind his back. “Of course I’m wi- I mean, why would I need anyone but you, my dear?” he said, the smile sliding back into place. “Here, take them all.” He pressed the rest of the feathery blooms into her hands with the first.
“You know,” he continued, edging closer as Masakari stared numbly at the awkward bundle in her hands. “I have a lovely little spot in mind, where we could go.” He let one hand stray to her shoulder, fingers gliding over the smooth, white flesh her gown left exposed. “Quiet, secluded, cozy. Certainly not enough room for pretense.” His hand slid down her back, the tips dipping beneath the edge of the crisp, blue satin. “Among other things.”
“Yes,” said Masakari, twisting away. “I am quite certain you know many such places.”
He tried to keep the smile in place, the rejected hand still hovering in the air behind her. “You would not be disappointed.”
Masakari rounded on him, eyes narrowing. Terrel shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other under the delightfully smoldering glare. “You will have to be,” she said. “Because I will not be coming with you.”
Terrel frowned, tracing with his eyes the low swoop of her neckline. “Oh, so very close, and yet…” He sighed. “You know not what you’re missing, my dear.”
“I think I can certainly bear such suffering.”
“Oh, but why?” he said, daring to reach once more for her shoulder. “When it should be so easy to appease-”
Her look shifted suddenly to one far more pleasant. Terrel’s breath hitched as he dared to hope she might be coming to her senses. The moment was short lived, as he realized her sights were set far across the room, and his outstretched hand met, not with flesh, but with a bundle of stems.
“Perhaps another time,” she said, gaze still distant as she pressed the flowers into his grasp.
Terrel opened his mouth, not quite sure what to say, as she took her leave. He stood for long moments, staring at the rejected blossoms slowly drooping in his hands, even after Masakari had disappeared among the crowd of dancers that filled the room.
“Terrel?”
He spun to face a small figure oversized skirts of yellow regarding him meekly.
“Ah, Lonna,” he said, the smile returning as he tried to force some shape back into the bouquet. “For you, my dear.”