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Post by aoife on Sept 1, 2008 7:46:40 GMT -6
Aoife, Aoife, Aoife. What was she up to? She was up to nothing unusual. The day was bright and welcome with a soft breeze that kept her cool even though she was under the overhang of the matchbox cottage’s yard. She had a decent sized cauldron going, the liquid inside was bubbling a dark liquid and every now again you’d see a strip of fabric break the chaotic surface. The large oar like device would be picked up and she would stir the fabric about the dark depths once in awhile. To pass the time, the sheep would graze, the ram poking his nose into her business from time to time, she’d pat it’s head like a pet, tug on it’s horns to make it fussy and leave her be.
She smiles to herself, quite content in this very quiet moment. Her lovely blonde curls and waves were down around her shoulders, a simple frock with few under layers were on under an apron, all of it neutral coloring, for she did not want to mess her nice clothing. In her hands, as she leaned back in the chair, was some thread and a needle, darting quickly in and out of the fabric of deep blue. She almost seemed unaware of the world around her as she worked, such a calm look on her pretty visage.
She almost looked as if she had made a home. Though, inside her mind, she was replaying the other day for the thousandth time, with the book keep. Each time she did, that strange feeling swept over her, that gut clenching, breath stealing feeling. She would frown a bit at it, blue eyes quizzically looking down at her work, but not really seeing it. What was the matter with her?! All of that was brought to a head, usually by pain, a little gasp as she stabbed the needle through the tip of her finger – for what must have been the thousandth time. Pulling her hand from her work, she looked the finger a drop of crimson bloomed from it with that familiar prickling pain.
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Post by morgen on Sept 2, 2008 22:29:29 GMT -6
It had been a few days since Morgen spent the evening in the field with the Manx shepardess, and he had been busy. His new position kept him very occupied, but there was a distraction. It was irritating as well as inviting. So what that when walked through the streets of Turas Lans he looked extra longer at every slender and short blonde haired woman until he realized it was no one at all. So what that when memorizing the various coat of arms of the Island with every blue in their flag or shield he saw only a specific pair of blue eyes in the back of his mind. So what that he made time to open his shop after coming from Herald's Row, glaring furiously at the door for a certain visitor. Or that he changed his daily riding route to the city to pass by her small little cottage every morning and every night. When his subconcious was void and blank, she had crept in and disrupted every fiber of his being.
And so there he was. Mounted on his beloved Arabian mare, trotting down the dirt road towards the market place. His boot heels dug into the stirrups as he posted in the saddle, holding the reins tightly to him keeping her head up and close to her body. Really, she was a beautiful horse and one of Morgen's many prides. As they approached Aoife's cottage his blue eyes did stray in that direction, surveying the home, as they did every time he passed. He was used to not seeing her there, so for the first second his gaze passed over her. Then it clicked in his mind and they retracked, spotting her in the yard infront of a cauldron. Clicking Cendrillon into a faster trot he pulled her off the road and into her direction.
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Post by aoife on Sept 3, 2008 10:07:34 GMT -6
Fighting back the urge to scream and cry at her stupid finger she'd curse it instead, "Mollaght [damn]," and with a second thought, "What has that man done to me?" And as she spoke of him, he appeared. It was smoke and mirrors, or fey, for that was just too odd. Could you think so hard of a person that they just appear? The finger was at her lips when those wide blues caught him, she did not want to mess her work. The finger would leave pink lips as he turned to head back towards her, she'd shift a moment torn in running in the house to hide or ..fix her hair..but she would just move to her feet, stabbing the needle through the deep blue fabric so not lose it.
Instead of going to her usual quick smile, she bit her bottom lip a moment, but she'd quickly regain her happy appearance as he neared. Absently, she was rubbing her thumb and forefinger together to stop the little bleeding that was left, her other hand smoothing over skirts and apron, feeling she looked quite dowdy. "Hoi [hello], Master Book keep, you are well?"
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Post by morgen on Sept 3, 2008 23:29:44 GMT -6
He slowed Cendrillon once he was closer then stopped her all together infront of her yard. Morgen remained astride Cendrillon and he looked upon Aoife with solemn and serious dark eyes. Taking a moment to catch his breathe, his adam's apple bobbing a moment as he swallowed then answered in his eloquent tenor, "Yes, very well, thank you."
He wasn't quite so sure what he was doing here now, or what he was going to do. He rode past her home daily, always looking for her, but never thought of what he would do when he did indeed see her. Which was unusual for him. He was a planner. And now stuck in this perdicament a muscle beneath the ivory skin of his cheek flexed, clenching his jaw nervously. In his mind he tried to grasp for something to prompt polite conversation; weather, the market, local affairs. All topics seemed inferior though and so after eyes adverted to the sky for a moment searching the clouds of an answer, he looked back to her quickly and saw that she was currently sewing.
"A fine day for, ah, sewing. Yes?" The moment he blurted something out they echoed back in his mind and the only sign of his vexation of his own stupidity and obviousness were that his two brows pinched together and rose slightly. And this time he found it harder to smooth over his visage to that of smooth marble.
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Post by aoife on Sept 4, 2008 9:44:11 GMT -6
One of those tings that most people do, never relay was was really going on in their heads. Not that this would change ever, or for the moment here, for his racing thoughts mirrored her own. Watching him as he looked to the sky, her head could cant to the side oh so slightly, a little smile playing on the corners of her lips. He looked quite well on that horse.. Blinking owlishly as her thoughts were interrupted by his question, she'd dumbly nod a few times, "Aye, yes, it is..nice to be ..outdoors..Ah..How is yer family?"
Brilliant blues would search her darker ones, looking for a sign of...what? Honestly, Aoife! You are the village idiot if there ever was one..she'd turn a but, setting the sewing behind her on the chair before folding her hands together, the one smeared with a bit of blood now, but the bleeding had stopped. She would need to buy thimbles..."I heard of your..promotion? Moylley dhyt! [Congratulations!]" There..that was something fine.
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Post by morgen on Sept 4, 2008 16:17:54 GMT -6
He hoped she didn't notice or sense anything amiss in the air about them or in himself as he did. His conscious told him that she did, but who liked listening to those anyway. The thought to actually get off Cendrillon hadn't yet occured to him so he sat still in the saddle, squeezing and unsqueezing the reins in his hands. "They are well, thank you," He said with a slightly overexagerated nod. "How are your...um...sheep?" Again, the second he said that he actually turned his head away from her half way as most painfully embaressed expression struck across his face. Really, sheep Morgen? When he turned his face back he had regained composure and pressed a tight lipped smile to his face. Hoping that didn't come out as stupid as it did to him.
Morgen wasn't ever one much for hoping, though.
"Oh, ah, yes. Thank you." Through his thick cloud of current idiocy an idea struck him and his brows inclined upwards when it did. "The Baroness of Straun is throwing a ball. A masquarade. I am...one of the guests of Honor, for my newly appointed position and I have two inquiries," He paused. He did that a lot in his speech and spoke generally slowly, "All of the people of Turas Lans are going, and if you will be attending. And that if you would be so kind as to perhaps make a black dress shirt for me for the occassion? I couldn't think of a better tailor in Turas Lans." Success. He found a purpose for being there other then standing around like a miserable fool.
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Post by aoife on Sept 4, 2008 18:49:56 GMT -6
He wanted a dress shirt..that was why he was here. And inside, she panged. But the light smile on her lips would brighten as she'd bob her head, bringing her clasped hands up and pressed them to her lips. Another little nod.
"Come down from there, I cannae come to you, the beast will bite me." With that, she'd turn, "I will be back!" Sweeping back into her little house, she'd go straight towards a few trunks, throwing the top one open, she'd go in to her elbows digging about before pulling the pitch fabric out. Sweeping back out, her smile hitched on, holding the fabric to her chest. The cloth was a pure black, rich in texture, but not too heavy like a velvet. It was something that took her nearly a year to make or obtain if bought. Just some magical thing the ports brought in at Mann.
She looked to him, "I will need to measure you.."
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Post by morgen on Sept 5, 2008 9:15:03 GMT -6
A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and it barely appeared as she so quickly lept to her feet and went into her house. He did indeed swing down from Cendrillon, holding onto the reins with one hand and drawing her close to a nearby tree or post to secure the reins there. He smoothed his hands over the plain white shirt he wore now and waited near the cauldron in her yard. Leaning forward slightly to peer into it, seeing the bubbling water and dyes and fabrics.
When she emerged from her home he turned to her then his eyes widened. She needed to measure him. His back stiffened slightly and he nodded. "Of course." And so he stood, straight as a soldier, arms at his sides. Just hoping he wouldn't melt or collapse.
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Post by aoife on Sept 5, 2008 19:48:44 GMT -6
She'd nod a bit as she smiled. Turning a bit from him, she'd go to pluck something from the wee basket by her chair, pulling some pins from a little sand bag. She'd lift then, the fabric and unfolding it. She'd step up to him, a swift flip and the black fabric would drape around him, she'd pin it together at his shoulder. From there, she'd glance up at him from under the lace of dark lashes, smiling softly as nimble fingertips started to press across his chest and shoulders. Every now and there, she'd pin, her hands then moving along his arms as she'd start that soft humming.
After a while, she'd step back from him, eyeing her quick work, again, a few stealthy glances to his face as she admired the black against him. Still humming as she started to circle him, she'd stop behind him, the only sounds aside from her humming was the bleeting of her flock, a soft breeze, and the boil of her dye. Her head would rock to the side as hands moved along his back. "This makes your skin so fine, Sire. You're eyes so blue.." She'd trail off, biting her tongue, funny how if she felt he couldn't see her..biting her tongue a bit harder, she'd brush off a bit of fluff before making another pin.
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