Avis had an eyebrow arched through Xavarian's words; verbally he could be abstruse and somewhat harder to follow, especially if he spoke in pieces. Still she understood well enough, especially as he complemented his words with a literal reduction of the distance between them. He was learning, this duskwight. And at the end of his rhymes Avis gave a soft laugh - he'd completely put her earlier one to shame.
She took his cue - if a cue it was, one could never be quite certain with Xavarian - and crossed the last few steps to him with scant regard for whoever happened to be watching the odd pair. Smirking up at him, she took his right hand in both of hers, a smooth, natural movement with no trace of tentativeness. "Careful," she said in a low voice, returning the earlier 'gesture' and running her thumb across his palm lines meaningfully, "reading between the lines, or out of the margins can be dangerous. Words and actions can fall out of their proper places. Though I suppose we're no longer strangers to that in the light of 'new shores'... We have been very dangerous, and I dare say, creative." There was, of course, no cautionary note in her voice, only a low tremor of excitement.
She'd also seen his eyes close in fatigue for a moment, so she continued, "But you seem hardly awake enough for challenges, even if your mind's sharp enough to make rhymes. Or tangled enough - I will never know which does it. I can be merciful, and have you begin your inevitable perusal of daylight with me another time when we are both physically and intellectually capable of them."Â
She knew exactly what she was saying; a note of mischief had slid back into her tone. For the time being she was content to observe him, and to be amused by the usual mess he made of his appearance. She had missed him, after all.Â
She took his cue - if a cue it was, one could never be quite certain with Xavarian - and crossed the last few steps to him with scant regard for whoever happened to be watching the odd pair. Smirking up at him, she took his right hand in both of hers, a smooth, natural movement with no trace of tentativeness. "Careful," she said in a low voice, returning the earlier 'gesture' and running her thumb across his palm lines meaningfully, "reading between the lines, or out of the margins can be dangerous. Words and actions can fall out of their proper places. Though I suppose we're no longer strangers to that in the light of 'new shores'... We have been very dangerous, and I dare say, creative." There was, of course, no cautionary note in her voice, only a low tremor of excitement.
She'd also seen his eyes close in fatigue for a moment, so she continued, "But you seem hardly awake enough for challenges, even if your mind's sharp enough to make rhymes. Or tangled enough - I will never know which does it. I can be merciful, and have you begin your inevitable perusal of daylight with me another time when we are both physically and intellectually capable of them."Â
She knew exactly what she was saying; a note of mischief had slid back into her tone. For the time being she was content to observe him, and to be amused by the usual mess he made of his appearance. She had missed him, after all.Â
[sub]Avis Inkwood | Qara Qalli
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