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Post by Quinn Ashwinder on Jan 20, 2010 18:20:09 GMT -5
Quinn held her hands up, "uncle," she said softly. "I didn't mean to push it, I just wondered, it looks good either way." Lyric had said there would be some time, so maybe instead of asking about him, she could try talking about her a little bit. What could she talk about, it was usually easier to talk when there was someone asking a question about you. "I've never done anything exciting with my hair, I wasn't allowed to." She gestured at her clothes, "Markise helped me pick these out," she smiled, "he said I need to work on confidence."
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Post by Trent Frey on Jan 20, 2010 18:35:05 GMT -5
Lyric didn't know anyone named Markise, so he dismissed that comment entirely as he looked aside at Quinn. "You look confident," he observed, then turned his gaze away to brood again. She was always smiling, always talking, and it was bizarre. He didn't particularly care about her hair, nor about her friend. He cared about the next thirty to sixty minutes of waiting, and the fact that instead of dancing in the crush of a club, he was sitting somewhere. Waiting.
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Post by Quinn Ashwinder on Jan 20, 2010 18:42:18 GMT -5
Quinn shook her head, "sometimes I feel confident," she took a deep breath of the air in the room, closing her eyes as she thought about dreams. "I'm very good at potions, herbology, and care of magical creatures, get me outside of that...and I'm like a plimpy out of water." She was feeling restless, she thought to herself, closed walls were safe, but she wanted to stand, to walk, to not think about social awkwardness, so she stood.
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Post by Trent Frey on Jan 20, 2010 19:43:24 GMT -5
The motion of Quinn getting to her feet caught Lyric's attention, and he turned his head to look at her. It was strange how her standing coincided with his own desire to do something. He'd gotten so used to doing it alone over the past few days, but he was sick of it. He was tired of this light, airy room. He was tired of silence so deep that he couldn't escape from thought without help. He wanted flashing lights, heat, and persistently pounding music.
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Post by Quinn Ashwinder on Jan 20, 2010 19:54:47 GMT -5
Her mind was supplying what she needed, her thoughts focusing on the needs of her body as it offered her a soft tune, and her toes started tapping. She knew that she probably looked awkward, but talking wasn't working, at least not as wound up as she was. What she really felt like doing was twirling around, but she'd done that the last time with Lyric, and she blushed as she thought about it, but decided to leave it alone.
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Post by Trent Frey on Jan 20, 2010 20:08:01 GMT -5
Lyric watched Quinn with distant curiosity. It couldn't be working so quickly, could it? He looked inward, but it wasn't working for him. Still, he wanted music, and the room supplied a faded beat that begged to distract as it grew in volume, expanding to fill the near-empty space. He debated standing, but it wouldn't move past a debate; the room was still light and airy, and it wasn't a free party. There was only one other person here.
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Post by Quinn Ashwinder on Jan 20, 2010 20:21:45 GMT -5
Quinn closed her eyes, swaying to the beat that Lyric must have supplied to the room. A soft imagining of the wind in her hair, and a soft breeze filled the room of requirement. She grinned as she felt it, wondered what else she could get out of the room while she waited. Her feet moved ever so slightly, and Quinn's eyes opened, and she grinned as she watched colors spreading across the floor from where ever her feet touched, almost like the rippled of a disturbed pond, except with color.
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Post by Trent Frey on Jan 20, 2010 20:33:16 GMT -5
Lyric tried to resist because it still wasn't right, but the music was pulling him. He didn't want to sit around waiting for it to kick in, so he stood, walking onto Quinn's floor and demanding that the room darken. There was no one else here, but there was the beat he needed, there was the near dark and the impression of movement with that strange breeze that came out of nowhere. Lyric closed his eyes, shutting out everything but what he felt, and let himself escape into the music.
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Post by Quinn Ashwinder on Jan 20, 2010 20:39:35 GMT -5
Quinn smiled again when she noticed that Lyric had stood up and walked to the middle of the room. She still didn't want to touch him, knew that he wasn't ready for that, but he'd taken away the blank canvas and given her a dark one, so she decided to make the most of the room. Quinn flowed with the music letting her fingers brush dark walls, waves of color shooting through them in tandem with the music. Her eyes caught the shape of Lyric's watching him move, her mind tracing the way he moved, and trying to match it, trying to match the music more than a soft sway.
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Post by Trent Frey on Jan 20, 2010 20:55:22 GMT -5
As involved in the music as he was, the change still felt instantaneous. He was more involved in the music, part of it, and it spoke to the deepest part of him, deeper even than the secrets he held so close. But he forgave himself, forgave him, forgave his mother. Life was too beautiful to hold in anger and sadness. He lost his sense of self-consciousness and the room didn't matter anymore beyond a place to express the pure bliss rolling through him.
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Post by Quinn Ashwinder on Jan 20, 2010 20:59:17 GMT -5
Quinn paused as a wash of pure feeling washed over her sometime during her dance. She opened her eyes and the marvels of the room seemed to be a universal sign of rightness. Quinn couldn't stop the urge to spin around the room a few times, her eyes lighting again, as they had this entire night on Lyric. In this moment she didn't feel the nerves, or self debilitating need to always talk to fill the silence, the silence was right.
Quinn allowed her body to flow with the music over towards Lyric, her hands touching the walls to send shimmering veins of life through them. Her eyes slipped lower as she moved closer to Lyric, until she was close enough to him to actually feel the temperature of his body.
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Post by Trent Frey on Jan 20, 2010 21:24:59 GMT -5
Lyric's eyes opened wide at the feel of someone so close to him. He knew her, and with everything flowing in his veins, even nearly touching was ecstasy. He didn't move away, but she'd distracted him from the dance. He felt a swelling of love like he'd never known, and his hands rose, hovering just away from her skin. There was no guilt for the things he wanted, only the knowledge that they were connected, that their souls belonged together. But there was so much energy coursing through him! The reverence would explode if he didn't do something.
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Post by Quinn Ashwinder on Jan 20, 2010 21:31:10 GMT -5
The weight of hovering hands was almost a tangible touch as the air around her closed into a tiny box, irrespective of the breeze in the room, it had narrowed to her and him, two entities existing in a space much to small. Her eyes fluttered open to stare at the dark magnificence of him in the room, of the total rightness she'd felt for the first time in her life, her bond with her sister hobbled at the feet of this deeper truth.
An eternity and a second were spent in the moment before her hand touched his own and slid up his arm, a shivering spreading through her body at the thrill of being allowed to touch the energy she was drawn to.
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Post by Trent Frey on Jan 20, 2010 22:12:42 GMT -5
Lyric could have died from the bliss of that touch. Somehow he didn't, somehow he lived to press lightly forward, to experiment with soft touches against her bare arms. "Jeg elsker deg," he murmured. I love you. He felt the words resonate as he pressed further forward, blissful again from the pressure of her body against his. He would pay later for this, but the thought didn't occur to his hazy mind and humming blood. "Jeg elsker deg, Quinn..."
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Post by Quinn Ashwinder on Jan 20, 2010 22:22:24 GMT -5
Quinn's head tilted towards Lyric's chest, feeling a moment of sheer joy wash over her as her name passed through his lips. "I love you Lyric," the passage of the words through her mouth brought a tide wave of pleasure. Her head turned back up towards his face, her hair sliding against her skin, his skin, lighting tiny tendrils of that pure pleasure through her skin. She stood up on her toes, reaching the brief distance to kiss him on her own this time.
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