[ With or without the laced meat, she would have been glad to have partaken in watching him work and tasting his food. Her teachers at the Academy had always lamented about how much she enjoyed talking over learning and paying attention during lectures. But wasn't that also a valid way to learn? To get to know people and their passions that (hopefully) lay outside of the books and tomes about warfare that they insisted they learn? It had all come in handy in hindsight, but that didn't change her joy of getting to know people through conversation, through learning about what they loved.
It's entirely possible that she would have struck up one with him had it not been for the sudden desire to flirt, to be closer, to touch him that had overwhelmed her. Is longing and loneliness really that powerful? Is knowing that she might never be able to feel the touch of someone else again that potent? They're all thoughts that fade into the back of her mind, a simmering need to know him carnally beginning to make itself known.
And to see the pink on his face deepen a shade darker at her very intentional lick, well. That only quickens the pace of her heart and causes the smile to break across her face that much wider. ]
They'd be so lucky.
[ And those aren't just words of flattery. That visceral feeling and the way her body yearns to know him means it with a genuineness that wouldn't have been so difficult to pull from her - even if he had chosen to go and fistfight the seagulls, because once upon a time there had been a boy that she loved watching fight with reckless abandon. And while war had coloured the way she viewed fighting now, the seagulls probably would have had it coming eventually. Not to mention it would have proven another welcome distraction from the heavy cloud that threatened to bring her mood down.
If that heavy cloud remained at all, the remnants of it are dissipated by the warmth of his hand ghosting atop hers. Her gaze skips from their hands back up towards him - Ragna - but before she can offer her own name in return his lips flutter across hers. Joyful laughter trills from her before she can stop it and now it's her turn to blush. Instinctively she steps forward to close the space between them but not all the way. What is left between them is a dare, a tease, an invitation. A quiet yearning for more. Slim fingers thread through his feeling the callouses against his palm that likely match hers in some way (curious, considering she'd deny ever holding a weapon, but pretenses aren't quite top of her mind for her right now). The other hand slides up his chest, coming to rest there almost like this is some pretense to a dance. ]
Did you get it, Ragna? [ The something on her face that is. ] Or do you need a closer look?
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It's entirely possible that she would have struck up one with him had it not been for the sudden desire to flirt, to be closer, to touch him that had overwhelmed her. Is longing and loneliness really that powerful? Is knowing that she might never be able to feel the touch of someone else again that potent? They're all thoughts that fade into the back of her mind, a simmering need to know him carnally beginning to make itself known.
And to see the pink on his face deepen a shade darker at her very intentional lick, well. That only quickens the pace of her heart and causes the smile to break across her face that much wider. ]
They'd be so lucky.
[ And those aren't just words of flattery. That visceral feeling and the way her body yearns to know him means it with a genuineness that wouldn't have been so difficult to pull from her - even if he had chosen to go and fistfight the seagulls, because once upon a time there had been a boy that she loved watching fight with reckless abandon. And while war had coloured the way she viewed fighting now, the seagulls probably would have had it coming eventually. Not to mention it would have proven another welcome distraction from the heavy cloud that threatened to bring her mood down.
If that heavy cloud remained at all, the remnants of it are dissipated by the warmth of his hand ghosting atop hers. Her gaze skips from their hands back up towards him - Ragna - but before she can offer her own name in return his lips flutter across hers. Joyful laughter trills from her before she can stop it and now it's her turn to blush. Instinctively she steps forward to close the space between them but not all the way. What is left between them is a dare, a tease, an invitation. A quiet yearning for more. Slim fingers thread through his feeling the callouses against his palm that likely match hers in some way (curious, considering she'd deny ever holding a weapon, but pretenses aren't quite top of her mind for her right now). The other hand slides up his chest, coming to rest there almost like this is some pretense to a dance. ]
Did you get it, Ragna? [ The something on her face that is. ] Or do you need a closer look?