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 Posted: Mon Apr 04, 2011 11:48 pm
"I knew I could trust you," the older Grimm whispered equally gravely. "The best part is you may not have to go to such trouble, for all she knows, I may already be dead." Finch Men had a streak of mischief in them, it wasn't for nothing that Jawbone Men grumbled that trouble came on a Finch's wing. If Arelgren wanted to speak nonsense, Wickwright was a game opponent.
When he was sure Arelgren was gone, Wickwright reached into his bag for parchment and a quill, scribbling, YOU NEVER TOLD ME YOU LIVED WITH ARELGREN in the neat capitals that made up his casual handwriting, then thrusted the paper at Meschke. Aloud, he said, "How have you been, Meschke? I came to ask you if you were feeling quite well after your little incident, and of course, to see your friend, Arelgren."
Silently, he handed the quill and the parchment to Meschke, and raised his eyebrows, hoping he got the drift.
"Ah," Hopkin said, as Lettie Arelgren's warm hand touched his, and he squeezed it gently before letting go almost at once. He didn't feel comfortable touching strangers for too long, even if they were very pretty and warm. He offered Lettie a hesitant smile though, the light from his mouth flickering uncertainly. "Th-that's good, I'm glad it's, um, lovely. I think it's lovely too, uh, it's quite... yes." He looked over at Chayele Meschke and nodded quickly, offering "M-me too, I like your beads, your horns, your colourful dress, the way your skin feels, how delicately you're built, they way your legs taper, your smile, and the melodies you hum." Lists were easy. Hopkin could do lists.
He didn't know what else to do, and so he coughed like Wickwright did when he was trying to distract people. He wished his Grimm was here to lead the conversation or tell him what came next. He had never been around other people or plagues without Wickwright before, and the separation was quickly making him anxious. To distract himself, he started muttering a story under his breath, one that he had been reviewing the other night (but definitely not the one that he had to recite for O'Neill, his stomach did flip flops at the bad memories).
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Posted: Tue Apr 05, 2011 5:06 pm
Dragomir blinked at the parchment and raised his eyebrows in the slight effort it took to read - he set the quill-pen down and shook his head, making an utter look of disgust as he put both hands at his throat, then pointed at the door and through the window to the house that Dorian should have been in but wasn't. He would never live with that buffoon and the disgust clearly showed on his face. He had no desire to write and make a fool of himself when Wickwright was obviously far superior to him in that aspect, so his little game of charades would have to suffice; he had no interest in doing anything more. He cocked an eyebrow, questioningly, at the other man, asking if he understood. Out loud, he tilted his head.
"Other than the appearance of the most troublesome plague now in my clutches, I am and have been alright. I believe the good sir," as he still refused to say Dorian's name, first or last, if he could help it, "is as good as ever. As annoying as ever, by any means." He snorted, not caring if the other heard at all; he perhaps wanted him to.
After a moment, he added, softly, "And you? How have you been?"
Chayele watched as their handshake was little more than a squeeze and wondered why it was a 'shake' if that was it. Her slightly depressed mood lifted almost instantly when Lettie affirmed her beads were pretty and she shuffled more toward the girl, clasping her hand a little tighter. It felt nice to have a hand her sized tucked in her own, especially one that was pleasant to her. She hummed softly, contemplatively, and leaned down a little and gently touched one of her bows and then beamed up at her, nodding. She made a pleasant noise to accompany it - she hoped Lettie understood.
However, her attention was quickly diverted by Hopkin's list of things he liked about her. Her cream skin shifted as each different item caused her smile to get wider and wider. She wiggled and giggled loudly, looking down at her beads as he named it, touching her horns, individually touching each item he named until he got to her legs. She listened, quiet, to the end of it, then picked one of her feet up and lifted it to where she could get a better look at it. Her fingers subconsciously tightened around Lettie's as though to give her a point of balance. She leaned to touch the band around her calf and then looked at her ankle, trying to reach it. She wibbled in balance, however, and stood up quickly as if to remain standing; the attempt failed, however, as the quick standing up along with her still instability made her fall backwards and slightly to the direction opposite Lettie, her hand stretched upwards, still in the female plague's. She sat there for a moment, in shock for a second or two, then stood, giggling musically - she found her own clumsiness amusing. She glanced around at the other two, wondering on their reactions as she turned her hips, shimmying in her skirts.
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