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mistral4543 · 08-01-2006, 07:16 AM

As a child, she had found it terribly funny to watch Altair’s cheeks burning with uncertainty whenever she ran up to him, pecked his cheeks with her lips and darted off before he could protest. Those incidents had always ended up with him catching up with her, dragging her to the pool and shoving her into the water; and in retaliation, she would tug him down and both of them would be drenched and still trading playful jeers and retorts. As a child, she had delighted in poking Altair’s hips where he was most vulnerable and burst into raucous laughter as he jumped and doubled over, trying to defend himself. Those episodes had always ended up with him grabbing her by the arms, spinning her around until they were both giddy and collapsing upon the ground, each blaming the other for their condition.

For as long as she could remember, it was always she – Robyn of Mehlingard – who had initiated their playtime activities that required the most exertion.

Tonight was different.

It was different because they were no longer children. But more importantly, it was not Robyn of Mehlingard who was provoking her good-natured friend.

Tonight, it seemed that Altair had had enough of being the passive one. She could hardly believe her eyes when he extended his hand to her and took her on a breath-taking sprint. Within the span of a few seconds, they had crossed the boundaries of friendship.

Any feelings that had lain dormant were now fully awakened with the close of the run. Even as the prize was being withdrawn from their hands, the air tingled with a drowsy sweetness that she had not known could exist in reality. By the time she reopened them, her eyes were those of a different woman.

True to the nature of such shortlived moments of ecstacy, this one collapsed with a resurgence of Altair’s discomfort. The words were out of her mouth, before she could frame them contextually.

“You should rest.”

Then, realising that he might mistake instinctive concern for a cold brush-off, she sighed and the redness completely left her cheeks then. How ironic it was, that Robyn of Mehlingard was at a loss for words and actions on this special day! Helplessly, she focused her attention on his injury rather than his countenance, unable to face the latter at the moment.

After a moment’s pause, she knew that it was up to her to break the ice, having brought about the somewhat awkward silence. How could she show her intentions without being too forward? Coughing slightly, she tried a buddy-like approach. “I hope you realise what you’re getting into, Altair Swizec.” The attempt completely backfired when the blood gushed to the apples of her cheeks, instead.

[ 08-01-2006, 07:40 AM: Message edited by: mistral4543 ]

08-01-2006, 07:16 AM	#219
mistral4543 Ma'at - Goddess of Truth & Justice Join Date: September 5, 2001 Location: House of Freelight Age: 48 Posts: 3,159	As a child, she had found it terribly funny to watch Altair’s cheeks burning with uncertainty whenever she ran up to him, pecked his cheeks with her lips and darted off before he could protest. Those incidents had always ended up with him catching up with her, dragging her to the pool and shoving her into the water; and in retaliation, she would tug him down and both of them would be drenched and still trading playful jeers and retorts. As a child, she had delighted in poking Altair’s hips where he was most vulnerable and burst into raucous laughter as he jumped and doubled over, trying to defend himself. Those episodes had always ended up with him grabbing her by the arms, spinning her around until they were both giddy and collapsing upon the ground, each blaming the other for their condition. For as long as she could remember, it was always she – Robyn of Mehlingard – who had initiated their playtime activities that required the most exertion. Tonight was different. It was different because they were no longer children. But more importantly, it was not Robyn of Mehlingard who was provoking her good-natured friend. Tonight, it seemed that Altair had had enough of being the passive one. She could hardly believe her eyes when he extended his hand to her and took her on a breath-taking sprint. Within the span of a few seconds, they had crossed the boundaries of friendship. Any feelings that had lain dormant were now fully awakened with the close of the run. Even as the prize was being withdrawn from their hands, the air tingled with a drowsy sweetness that she had not known could exist in reality. By the time she reopened them, her eyes were those of a different woman. True to the nature of such shortlived moments of ecstacy, this one collapsed with a resurgence of Altair’s discomfort. The words were out of her mouth, before she could frame them contextually. “You should rest.” Then, realising that he might mistake instinctive concern for a cold brush-off, she sighed and the redness completely left her cheeks then. How ironic it was, that Robyn of Mehlingard was at a loss for words and actions on this special day! Helplessly, she focused her attention on his injury rather than his countenance, unable to face the latter at the moment. After a moment’s pause, she knew that it was up to her to break the ice, having brought about the somewhat awkward silence. How could she show her intentions without being too forward? Coughing slightly, she tried a buddy-like approach. “I hope you realise what you’re getting into, Altair Swizec.” The attempt completely backfired when the blood gushed to the apples of her cheeks, instead. [ 08-01-2006, 07:40 AM: Message edited by: mistral4543 ]