Open RP Post

[scaledwolf]

IC CONTACT - Texts, Email, Voicemail, Tweets, etc
[Open post for PSLs, random crack tags, plotted tags, unplotted tags, and tfln overflow.
Basically the w/e RP post.]

Comments

[nexubait]

There are worse legacies to have – after all, someone has to prove that her impulse is a benefit to their breakfast-dinner. But they’d already decided, more than once, that they should trust their impulses. And, since hers had happened to dictate that she should bring blackberries, she hadn’t questioned it. A fruitful choice, given the turn of events, and she drops her own gaze to watch as he appraises the berries. They’d looked suitable enough to her, even if she’d been in a little bit of a rush, but she doesn’t mind waiting for him to come to the same conclusion on his own. Which he seems to, having selected a berry, and she gives it a quick look-over of her own before flicking her own smirk. It’s one of the plumper ones, which means it’s one of the riper ones, which means it’s one of the blacker ones, and she skips a curious glance back up to meet his eyes as she leans forward and parts her lips to accept the offering.

Onto her tongue, carefully, with a brush of her lips against his fingertips that may or may not have been accidental, letting go of a considering hum. It’s definitely a blackberry – a small burst of sweet and tart on her tongue, and, as she’d expected, she can imagine that it will pair well with maple-glazed anything. They could also be enjoyed just as well on their own, if the current experience is any indication, and she’s happy to relish the dissolving juice for as long as she can, passing judgment with a smile. “Since I’ve neither died nor tasted anything terrible, maybe the story of our success can be just as heroic and inspiring.” It will be for her, anyway, she feels she can safely assume – inspiring enough to want to repeat this sort of evening again, be it with another iteration of waffles, or dangerous sushi creations, or anything at all. Who says they’re even limited to the kitchen?

A distracting train of thought to ride any further, just as staying pressed in against his side is not going to lead to anything productive in terms of cooking. Sparing a wistful glance along the length of his body, and then back up to his lips, she takes a reluctant step away to instead find a close-by but out-of-the-way piece of real estate on the counter, turning and hopping her hips up gently to take a seat. She had a promise to fulfill regarding moral support, and maybe even a video tutorial if necessary, trusting that she could also manage to make waffles once the time came. But she did intend to waste at least a little bit of time just watching. How often were they locked together in a room, allowing her to shamelessly do so? “My favorite flukes, I will admit,” she agrees lightly, truthfully, lifting her brows at the explanation he provides her. A sensible, kingly outlook. “In order to justify anything, then, the answer is to do it more? Is that a theory that translates to all areas of life?” And how can there not be a cheeky smile to go with that?