Also, we really do have to get around to trying out Aislinn one of these days, she is getting a lil' bit restless. Four that she is, always wanting to be noticed.
...I had forgotten how depressing the dorm can be in the dead of night. Time for bed, I think. Shall talk to you tomorrow, I hope.
The complex is located on a hill overlooking the sea. A few trees are scattered are over the hill, and you can spot most of them if you were inclined to glance down. As it is, Isis is leaning against a tree on top of the hill. The villa lies behind her, silent and draped in slumber. The sun has only barely risen, still painting the sea in yellow, orange and gold, and Isis' eyes feel heavy every time she blinks
( ... )
And I left the options open! With this line; Isis closes her eyes at the sound, bows her head in thought and smiles when it comes to her.
You can either pretend she only just met Saeth and thinks this is him, recognizing his voice. Or you can pretend this is later in the er... "relationship" >> and she can tell by the sound of their voice who it is. Long as they're not pretending.
... though, I admit, it would be kickass if this is the first time they meet and she doesn't know and and and hi, beach.
The press of a wand to Blaise's throat is wholly unexpected; the Japanese Ministry by rights ought to be deserted at this hour, and he hadn't tripped a single one of the security wards.
And yet.
The figure is in shadow, but a glance down at the wand makes his pulse leap still faster. Eleven inches, hazel. A phoenix feather core, he remembers. It is a powerful wand, in a particular pair of slender, pale hands.
"Explain yourself." Theodore's voice is much harder than Blaise remembers, commanding and wintry, but when he steps into the dim light, he looks just the same as he did then, almost two years ago, now. Pale and slim and achingly beautiful, with impossibly dark eyes. Closed off.
"Blaise." Theodore whispers the name like a prayer, or like a promise, and his fingers feather across Blaise's cheek. (Softly, softly). There is no space between them save the barrier of their clothes, but Blaise can feel Theodore's warmth through the fabric, and he tightens his hold. Their faces are close, achingly so, but their lips do not quite touch, hesitating at an almost-kiss, frozen in the second before, breathing one another's air. The moment is inexplicably heady, and Blaise's eyes fall closed with just a slight little shiver; his fingers curl into Theodore's shirt. I love you, Theodore almost says, you are perfect.
Devin reminds him slightly of Silene. Hence the dislike. And he can't abide by dishonest people, even subtly and cleverly dishonest ones. I'd love to do a confrontation.
Aislinn is somewhat enchanting. He is fascinated with people who have a gift for music because he has absolutely none himself. He'll stand stil in the doorway and simply listen, watching her.
Ahh, I can see how she might. Though it's very hard to tell that the friendly attitude is a front; it would have to be more just an intuitive gut reaction, just a sense of something about her being off.
She won't notice right away, she gets too wrapped up in it. She'll only become aware of his presence once the song finishes; she'll still for a minute, and turn her head and look up at him.
My fic prompt for a fest I'm doing is making me CRY, Cat. How am I supposed to write a slash rarepair based on the tarot card most strongly associated with fertility??? Don't even joke about mpreg. I would totally have the perfect idea if I could only use a het pair. Damnit.
Nghhh. I wanted The Devil, or The Tower, or The Moon.
I'm guessing The Empress? XD I see your problem. I despise mpreg as well. But you know, making something grow needn't necessarily be about making babies. <3
Your geuss is spot on. No, I think I have a solution. I'll use it in the inverted aspect of emotional blackmail from a woman. A Theo/Blaise with a heavy side of Nahema.
Comments 178
...I had forgotten how depressing the dorm can be in the dead of night. Time for bed, I think. Shall talk to you tomorrow, I hope.
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See, I told you this Blaise would be easier for you. Mmmm Isis. Does she think he's Saeth, here? Is this the first time Blaise sees her?
eee.
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And I left the options open! With this line;
Isis closes her eyes at the sound, bows her head in thought and smiles when it comes to her.
You can either pretend she only just met Saeth and thinks this is him, recognizing his voice. Or you can pretend this is later in the er... "relationship" >> and she can tell by the sound of their voice who it is. Long as they're not pretending.
... though, I admit, it would be kickass if this is the first time they meet and she doesn't know and and and hi, beach.
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BEACH, HI.
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The press of a wand to Blaise's throat is wholly unexpected; the Japanese Ministry by rights ought to be deserted at this hour, and he hadn't tripped a single one of the security wards.
And yet.
The figure is in shadow, but a glance down at the wand makes his pulse leap still faster. Eleven inches, hazel. A phoenix feather core, he remembers. It is a powerful wand, in a particular pair of slender, pale hands.
"Explain yourself." Theodore's voice is much harder than Blaise remembers, commanding and wintry, but when he steps into the dim light, he looks just the same as he did then, almost two years ago, now. Pale and slim and achingly beautiful, with impossibly dark eyes. Closed off.
It feels like being stabbed in the chest.
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"Blaise." Theodore whispers the name like a prayer, or like a promise, and his fingers feather across Blaise's cheek. (Softly, softly). There is no space between them save the barrier of their clothes, but Blaise can feel Theodore's warmth through the fabric, and he tightens his hold. Their faces are close, achingly so, but their lips do not quite touch, hesitating at an almost-kiss, frozen in the second before, breathing one another's air. The moment is inexplicably heady, and Blaise's eyes fall closed with just a slight little shiver; his fingers curl into Theodore's shirt. I love you, Theodore almost says, you are perfect.
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Aislinn is somewhat enchanting. He is fascinated with people who have a gift for music because he has absolutely none himself. He'll stand stil in the doorway and simply listen, watching her.
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She won't notice right away, she gets too wrapped up in it. She'll only become aware of his presence once the song finishes; she'll still for a minute, and turn her head and look up at him.
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Mmmhm. He'll just be looking her in the eyes, unsmiling and say, quietly, beautiful.
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Nghhh. I wanted The Devil, or The Tower, or The Moon.
Grrr. /rant
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It seems we have the same favourites.
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I don't do fic that centers on nurturing. :\
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