herpderp, sorry about the slow :<visionblessingNovember 27 2010, 20:06:05 UTC
Soon enough the door swung open, Galatea sweeping out with practiced ease of navigation. (She could now make it successfully around any part of the HQ that she had deemed to her interests without gracelessly smacking into anything, and for that she was glad.)
A sort of endless restlessness seemed settled over the Scorched. A degree of constant turmoil, even, although she had not been so entirely unaware when she volunteered for her position that it had any great power to surprise her. It was simply a matter of taking it on and remembering it, trying to bend her experience and expertise, which were painfully limited in some regards. A strange thing to consider, when all that she had survived was considered, and less so at the same time. Romantic advise, indeed.
In short, Priscilla was not a lone individual wrapped up in thoughts.
Not at all! /is slow withyetsleepingNovember 29 2010, 08:30:17 UTC
That door opened, and Priscilla bit down on her bottom lip, looking up in Galatea's face, at her white eyes. All at once, just in that moment, she felt...
...she felt a little short.
It was pretty typical, come to think of it. She felt short every time she saw Galatea. It didn't bother her, but it was notable. Notable enough that she sometimes felt the urge to get on her toes and narrow the gap by a few inches, at least. Or, well, two. ... maybe one, given the construction of their boots.
She kind of fought with that urge now. In the end, though, she didn't get on her toes, just straightened her back a little, and looked up at Galatea, and said, "...I've been thinking."
And then, a breath. She glanced to the side, the light reflecting in her mirror-eyes. "Can I come in?"
awww yeeaaahhh we're so stately with our pacingvisionblessingNovember 29 2010, 23:24:59 UTC
By default, almost, there was an air of amusement in her smile. "Is that so?" How refreshing she was tempted to tack on, but Priscilla's tone and the nature of her responsibilities here gave her pause. Wit, she had learned, was not always conducive to progress; it was sharp, and while it hers remained un-dulled by her years of service, it was more carefully wielded. Admittedly in Anatole she had granted herself more freedom with it, but this was almost certainly not the moment.
"If you like," and now she sounded less amused and more gentle, moving to her desk so that Priscilla could enter freely. Affording her more space, leaving the choice to come or go open to her. That choice was something that she had learned was rather significant, and something that many were rarely afforded.
She assumed Priscilla would close the door once she made her entrance, for her own benefit if nothing else.
MAN. TIME IT GOES SO FAST.yetsleepingDecember 2 2010, 04:15:24 UTC
Priscilla lingered at the door for a long moment, glancing nervously to the hall again, and then into Galatea's room. It took a handful of seconds (long, or short - it's a matter of perspective), before she nodded a little and stepped inside, letting the door click quietly shut behind her. Even then, she stayed by the door, one hand covering the other, not moving farther inside.
"I don't mean to interrupt you," she said, dipping her head a little. "Maybe I should have contacted you first? But I just don't always know when I'll be busy, especially recently, and... well." Well, why not take advantage of a moment?
Or something like that.
"I wouldn't say I need counseling." She wrinkled her nose. "But... I don't know. Maybe I need someone to talk to. A little."
Comments 12
A sort of endless restlessness seemed settled over the Scorched. A degree of constant turmoil, even, although she had not been so entirely unaware when she volunteered for her position that it had any great power to surprise her. It was simply a matter of taking it on and remembering it, trying to bend her experience and expertise, which were painfully limited in some regards. A strange thing to consider, when all that she had survived was considered, and less so at the same time. Romantic advise, indeed.
In short, Priscilla was not a lone individual wrapped up in thoughts.
Reply
...she felt a little short.
It was pretty typical, come to think of it. She felt short every time she saw Galatea. It didn't bother her, but it was notable. Notable enough that she sometimes felt the urge to get on her toes and narrow the gap by a few inches, at least. Or, well, two. ... maybe one, given the construction of their boots.
She kind of fought with that urge now. In the end, though, she didn't get on her toes, just straightened her back a little, and looked up at Galatea, and said, "...I've been thinking."
And then, a breath. She glanced to the side, the light reflecting in her mirror-eyes. "Can I come in?"
Reply
"If you like," and now she sounded less amused and more gentle, moving to her desk so that Priscilla could enter freely. Affording her more space, leaving the choice to come or go open to her. That choice was something that she had learned was rather significant, and something that many were rarely afforded.
She assumed Priscilla would close the door once she made her entrance, for her own benefit if nothing else.
Reply
"I don't mean to interrupt you," she said, dipping her head a little. "Maybe I should have contacted you first? But I just don't always know when I'll be busy, especially recently, and... well." Well, why not take advantage of a moment?
Or something like that.
"I wouldn't say I need counseling." She wrinkled her nose. "But... I don't know. Maybe I need someone to talk to. A little."
Which was absolutely not the same thing.
Reply
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