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 Posted: Mon Jun 15, 2015 9:57 pm
Lance sighed again. He really didn't feel he did anything wrong, but her funeral, he supposed. Tired of people dying, he muttered to himself. But she refused his help, so there was nothing he could do.
"Cess back home is really good with fashion things," he said. "She once made a beautiful red jacket for Claudette. She tried to teach me, but I'm not very good at it."
Regardless, he began creating a leotard on the table. It was white with silver crisscrossing accents, an open back, and silver, sheer bell-sleeves. To it, he attached a rather flouncy skirt. It was white with a half sheer and silver overture. He didn't think it was so bad looking, but his opinion apparently didn't count.
He sighed again, and leaned his head backwards.
"The knife is restored," he snapped at Jóna.
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Posted: Mon Jun 15, 2015 10:05 pm
"Good. It better be!" she snapped in retort, hand once again touching it, as if to be sure.
She tried to imagine taking it home and showing her parents or friends. They would fall over laughing at the thought of her wielding such a stupid weapon, gutting dinner with it or using it to cut her meat at night or, gods forbid, using it in a fight!
It wouldn't matter if she died in two days, but just on the off-chance she did, she wanted to be handed back her blade, not the monstrosity Lance turned it into, the second she emerged from the beast's den.
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Posted: Mon Jun 15, 2015 10:06 pm
"There's nothing wrong with my spine," Riasha said to Jóna, turning towards the elf. "I couldn't dance if there was." She tilts her head to the side. "And I mean that both ways. Though, perhaps, you wouldn't find it difficult to dance for strangers all the time." She shrugs her shoulders.
Looking back to the leotard, she blinks. Running a hand over the fabric, she gives a soft sigh. "The colors are just right. The top usually isn't this tight though; we don't have cloth quite like this." By the tone of her voice this isn't a complaint: it's a comparison. Finally she picks them up and heads to another room to change; she certainly isn't going to do it in the middle of the cafe proper.
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Posted: Mon Jun 15, 2015 10:13 pm
"I said it is, and it is!" Lance growled at her.
He had made it into a strong, unbreakable, magical weapon. She could have used it to get out of any bad situation easily, and yet she had thrown that back in his face. He had half a mind to flood the place with knives, but he refrained. It wouldn't do him any good to throw a tantrum, but he was furious with how she treated his creation so badly when all he had tried to do was help her. Did she really want to die that badly? He knew she said she had little chance of getting through the task, but he figured in the worst case scenario, a powerful knife might cause the damn thing to either lose enough blood to not pursue her or shock it into unconsciousness. It's like she resigned herself to dying.
More importantly, why did he even care?
Lance sighed, ignoring Riasha. He was starting to feel like a failure.
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Posted: Mon Jun 15, 2015 10:26 pm
"Oh, so you do have one?" she mocked, hand slapping to her chest. "I was so worried for a moment. I can see how it must take such a great stroke of courage to dance in front of stranger. You are truly fearless," she added sarcastically.
Turning her eyes to Lance, she made a long-suffering noise. "Oh, what are you pouting about? I didn't want your ugly knife. Get over it. I made this knife with my bare hands. Excuse me for not wanting some stranger to completely bastardize it after the amount of work I put into it." It was her knife. She adored it. It was probably the only item she owned that she was sentimental about.
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Posted: Mon Jun 15, 2015 10:35 pm
Lance rolled his eyes but didn't respond verbally. Slouched in his chair, his feet propped up in the seat across from him, he would have preferred to take a nap. If Valentine was here, Lance could. And Valentine would have murdered Jóna for how she acted towards him. Valentine loved whatever Lance made for him. He sighed inwardly.
His eyes were rather heavy. He threw a shield around himself, warming him. It had been a long day, and he wanted nothing more than sleep.
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Posted: Mon Jun 15, 2015 10:40 pm
"I didn't say I was brave; I just said there wasn't anything wrong with my backbone. It was always what I needed," Riasha called over her shoulder just before going into the other room.
Sometime later she came back, dressed up in her new outfit. She wasn't supplied with new shoes, so her feet are bare because it would look silly for her to be in such dainty clothing wearing clunky traveler's boots. With the shorter dress, the legs beneath her knees can be seen. They're slender, but not weak looking, with smooth calves and delicate looking feet. Likewise, her arms are slender, but with some slight musculature to them, not the look of a fighter, but someone built for grace. Slowly she turns around so Lance can see his handy work, but there's nothing about her expression that indicates she's looking for a compliment on her self.
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Posted: Mon Jun 15, 2015 10:55 pm
"Are you sure you aren't mistaking that pole up your a** for a backbone?" she shouted after her, grinning, amused by her own imagery. That one wasn't half bad.
She rolled her eyes at Lance as he had himself a nice pout.
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Posted: Mon Jun 15, 2015 11:06 pm
"No, my a** is just fine too," said Riasha with a small laugh. "A person doesn't have to be very brave in the face of actual danger to avoid being a complete door mat." She shakes her head. Apparently the return of her hair and clothes that are more familiar has helped her mood a great deal.
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Posted: Mon Jun 15, 2015 11:14 pm
"So what's your excuse for being a complete doormat, then?" she drawled.
The girl kind of reminded her of that one human she met that Urt had taken form the border. She met the child shortly after her capture and enslavement. Pretty thing, although she hadn't lasted long. She supposed the big orc had been too rough with her, although she never actually met him, only having seen him at distances on the rare occasion.
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Posted: Mon Jun 15, 2015 11:18 pm
"Because I'm a dancer; I can't actually fight. I never learned how. So it's generally not a good idea to pick fights with people who are stronger and more skilled than I am," Riasha says, sighing again. "I'm also not much of a tracker, so when I was kidnapped, I couldn't have found my way home on my own." She purses her lips for a moment. "But in my day to day life, around people I'm used to, I'm not so negative. Just because I'm not as aggressive as you are doesn't mean I let everyone walk over me."
((I think I'm going to head to bed now.))
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Posted: Mon Jun 15, 2015 11:30 pm
Gesturing conclusively, Jóna said, "And here you are explaining yourself as if my opinion of you or your motivations matter. I honestly don't care. I don't know why you feel compelled to explain yourself to me, but Gods, it's annoying. If you don't want people to see you as a doormat, don't defend yourself like one. You know, by lying down and whining about how you're not a doormat. Just shut up and have some self-respect already."
She hadn't even been referencing fighting. The girl hadn't shown even an ounce of confidence in any of her mannerisms. Emotionally or otherwise. Her words said one thing, but she didn't even sound confident to believe them herself. Jóna pitied her. The girl had no idea what strength was. She certainly didn't embody any of it.
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Posted: Tue Jun 16, 2015 9:27 am
"Are you so miserable that you have to nitpick everything?" Lance snapped at Jóna. "She might not have much of a backbone, but does that really matter?"
Lance was unconsciously turning the flowers black, and the berries were changing into bloodfruit, which was a fleshy colored melon that dripped a crimson substance that was not unlike blood. He grabbed one of the fruits and angrily bit into the melon, the juice seeping out of his mouth and coloring his face.
"I just don't think that you have any room to criticize anyone," he snapped. To Riasha, he said, "And that dress is gorgeous on you!" His tone was still angry.
Jóna had no reason to sound so damn noble. She was going to die in two days, and she had refused help. Yet she made herself sound like an expert on how fighting is really done. Pathetic, Lance internally scoffed. She had no reason to beat on Riasha, spine or no spine.
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Posted: Tue Jun 16, 2015 11:04 am
It felt good to fight. With as little time left as she had, she wanted to drench herself in emotion, good or bad, feel a bit of passion before she snuffed out in a blaze of glory.
"Oh, I am terribly sorry. I didn't meant to insult your dear little plunder-bucket. Maybe if you defend her long enough she'll lift those pretty skirts of hers you think so much of. I think a nice romp would do you both some good. Might loosen her stick and calm your nerves a little," she laughed derisively.
She tried to guess their reactions. Riasha would probably sniff and delicately declare she was not that sort of girl and would never do that sort of thing--that was, if she even understood the double-entendres Jóna had used. Lance was a wildcard. She expected him to insult her again. She hoped he made it something good. That or he might throw some magic around. The flowers were taking on a ghastly appearance.
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Posted: Tue Jun 16, 2015 12:20 pm
Lance burst out laughing, the kind of laugh that was deep in his stomach. Tears were springing from his eyes as he mercilessly laughed. His sides were getting tight, and he pounded his fist on the table several times as he doubled over. He wiped water from his eyes, still laughing.
"Oh, my sides," he said breathlessly between laughs.
His laughter was suddenly noiseless as he laughed harder. His white tattoos gleamed against his red face. Finally, his laughter subsided into small cackles he tried to choke back.
"Oh, honey," he said with mock pity, "is your gaydar broken, or is your society too primitive to accept that yet?"
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