Though certainly not used to human emotions just yet, Lanoria could discern at this point that she had greatly upset Darcy. He jerked away from her touch as if she were acidic to him. He seemed...flustered.
Perhaps more, worried?
Afraid?
Was he afraid of her?
She once again obeyed the instructions to hold the cloth against her throbbing wound. A frown furrowed her brow as she considered how to explain to Darcy exactly how she’d entered his house. Should she start with the part about assuming a physical form? How could she describe this in terms a mortal would understand? There was no scientific for even magical explanation that she could give to him as to how a goddess busted through the universe and into his home. So she didn't offer one. Better not to confuse him any further.
“I don’t know. I just did. There weren’t any barriers to my entry.” It wasn’t like his house was on some plane she couldn’t cross into.
She was trying not to focus on the pain coming from her foot and turned her attention to the picture of Julianna and Owen. Darcy took it from her without answering her question as to whether he remembered the wedding or not. Suddenly Lanoria was leaving the floor. In Darcy’s arms. Immediately, she wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled her face against his collar as he carried her. A dream come true.
Just as soon as it started the dream was over as she was essentially unloaded onto the couch. Lanoria huffed at him in frustration. Her hands rearranged the gauzy robes around her legs. She pet the wrinkles out with her uninjured hand. When satisfied with her appearance, she cradled the injured hand and pouted at Darcy. Certainly acting the part of child.
“My name is Lanoria.” She offered. “I wanted to finally meet you, Darcy. You seem so lonely. I thought I might cheer you up.” Her assessment of his internal state of loneliness seemed to wound her. Her brows drew together in a concerned kind of grimace.
She tucked her hair behind an ear revealing several glittering studs along the lobe and into the cartilage. “Don’t be angry with me about the lamp. It was an accident.” Quickly she moved on, asking his forgiveness for breaking something so easily replaced. An apology for entering his home without permission did not follow or even occur to her.
Perhaps more, worried?
Afraid?
Was he afraid of her?
She once again obeyed the instructions to hold the cloth against her throbbing wound. A frown furrowed her brow as she considered how to explain to Darcy exactly how she’d entered his house. Should she start with the part about assuming a physical form? How could she describe this in terms a mortal would understand? There was no scientific for even magical explanation that she could give to him as to how a goddess busted through the universe and into his home. So she didn't offer one. Better not to confuse him any further.
“I don’t know. I just did. There weren’t any barriers to my entry.” It wasn’t like his house was on some plane she couldn’t cross into.
She was trying not to focus on the pain coming from her foot and turned her attention to the picture of Julianna and Owen. Darcy took it from her without answering her question as to whether he remembered the wedding or not. Suddenly Lanoria was leaving the floor. In Darcy’s arms. Immediately, she wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled her face against his collar as he carried her. A dream come true.
Just as soon as it started the dream was over as she was essentially unloaded onto the couch. Lanoria huffed at him in frustration. Her hands rearranged the gauzy robes around her legs. She pet the wrinkles out with her uninjured hand. When satisfied with her appearance, she cradled the injured hand and pouted at Darcy. Certainly acting the part of child.
“My name is Lanoria.” She offered. “I wanted to finally meet you, Darcy. You seem so lonely. I thought I might cheer you up.” Her assessment of his internal state of loneliness seemed to wound her. Her brows drew together in a concerned kind of grimace.
She tucked her hair behind an ear revealing several glittering studs along the lobe and into the cartilage. “Don’t be angry with me about the lamp. It was an accident.” Quickly she moved on, asking his forgiveness for breaking something so easily replaced. An apology for entering his home without permission did not follow or even occur to her.
Bitch, I'm limited edition.
The following 1 user Likes saronym's post: megs
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Love Games [Closed] - by megs - 11-17-2016, 02:14 PM
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RE: Love Games [Closed] - by saronym - 12-17-2016, 12:34 PM
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