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Post by Quinn Ashwinder on Jan 21, 2010 11:36:30 GMT -5
Quinn eyes sparkled with the thrill and absolute freedom of the music, of the movement, or Lyric. She couldn't remember a time in her life at this moment that hadn't been filled with the beat and the pump of the music. Her mind was fully following the whims of her body, using the time to be near Lyric, every brush of his body against her sending a new, more intense feeling than before. She hadn't realized this kind of music could be so inspiring.
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Post by Trent Frey on Jan 21, 2010 11:59:05 GMT -5
Lyric could have danced for hours, and maybe he did. It felt like a matter of minutes, but time passed so much more quickly when he was like this. He stopped for water sometimes despite not feeling thirsty, and even the slide of cool water down his throat was an experience. He needed water, but he needed to dance, too.
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Post by Quinn Ashwinder on Jan 21, 2010 12:10:42 GMT -5
The excitement, the experience, the environment where amazing to Quinn. As she dance with Lyric she wondered what else there was to him besides the dancing, besides the drugs that he kept giving to her. She commanded the room of requirement to soften the music for a moment, because she wanted to know. "Lyric, what do you do, when you're not doing this?" It didn't make sense not to share fully, not when they were so close, so connected.
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Post by Trent Frey on Jan 21, 2010 12:28:13 GMT -5
"I smoke," Lyric answered. It was more of an answer than it sounded like. He walked the halls and corridors smoking, watched the grounds from the windows, and occasionally couldn't get out of talking to someone, but mostly, he was smoking. It was something to do besides ingest or otherwise intake the things he was supposed to be selling. With the music lowered, he automatically turned to get another goblet of water.
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Post by Quinn Ashwinder on Jan 21, 2010 12:46:25 GMT -5
Quinn beamed at the honesty in Lyric's response, her mind normally would have wondered more, but it didn't make sense for this not to be the entire truth in this moment. It felt so personal that Quinn remembered something she had shoved into her pants earlier, so that he wouldn't see. "I made something for you," she said softly as she pulled the dragon carving out of her pocket. Barely the size of a quarter, the carving was an intricate representation of a Welsh Dragon.
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Post by Trent Frey on Jan 21, 2010 14:17:33 GMT -5
Lyric smiled broadly, his heart expanding with emotion at knowing she'd done something for him. He set down his slowly refilling goblet to turn and look at what Quinn was offering, admiring the tiny carving with childlike delight. "It's beautiful," he said. "It's so tiny." He took the tiny dragon and made dragon noises with it, pretending to blow out flames before he balanced it on one shoulder. "I always wanted to see a dragon," he said, beaming. "I hope my hair doesn't catch on fire! He's a nice dragon, thank you so much!"
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Post by Quinn Ashwinder on Jan 21, 2010 14:29:43 GMT -5
Quinn couldn't help but beam with emotion at how much he loved the dragon. He seemed so carefree and it was contagious, she spun around in a circle, thinking aloud, "I always wanted to be rescued by a knight in shining armor, I used to pretend that dragons lived around my dungeon protecting me from people who didn't belong." Saying that hurt her hadn't sounded right, because nothing hurt her right now, everything was perfect.
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Post by Trent Frey on Jan 21, 2010 14:50:46 GMT -5
Lyric smiled again, and after a moment picked the dragon off his shoulder and set it carefully on the floor, patting its head before he straightened. "This dragon will protect you," he said, then gave an exaggerated jump over it, making dragon sounds again as he turned and squatted, then pushed the figure over with his finger. "I'll rescue you," he offered.
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Post by Quinn Ashwinder on Jan 21, 2010 15:08:31 GMT -5
Quinn's eyes sparkled as she held a hand to her forehead, and mock swooned her laughter filling the air. She had always wanted this, and here it was, her dark knight in shining armor, and she didn't want the white one any longer. "Then I'll have to offer you my favor." Her other hand clutched at her shirt, as though she were holding the illicit favor for him to come and take from her.
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Post by Trent Frey on Jan 21, 2010 15:15:27 GMT -5
Lyric's wide-pupiled eyes showed his interest, and the dragon toy was forgotten as he wrapped Quinn in his arms again. He had too much energy to keep to himself, too much love, and it all focused on her as he enthusiastically accepted her favor with his own. It couldn't have been this good the last time he'd done this, at a rave somewhere surrounded by strangers. He'd danced then, accepted a massage from someone, danced some more, but this had to be another level entirely.
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Post by Quinn Ashwinder on Jan 21, 2010 15:31:49 GMT -5
Quinn felt like she could stay this way forever, with a less serious version of herself and Lyric. The time of her life was this moment, this experience, and she truly felt she was where she belonged. Even Kiley had never made her feel the way that this moment did. Every moment shining in a golden cloud of love and well wishing, of touching and being touched. What had yesterday been like? She couldn't even remember in the haze right now.
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Post by Trent Frey on Jan 21, 2010 15:39:48 GMT -5
Eventually Lyric could feel the high begin to wane. He didn't want to be here when it happened, didn't want to be where he'd have to face any immediate consequences for what he'd done. His dragon said goodbye to Quinn before he tucked it into his pocket, and he gave her something that would help with the wave of depression she'd face, possibly for days. It was all worth it, though. It was worth it for the feel of unselfconsciously hugging her at the door.
He gave her a couple last-minute instructions to keep drinking water even if she didn't get hungry or thirsty for a while, and to avoid eye contact with anyone on their way to the Common Room. Then he escorted her back, parting on the stairs to the dorms.
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