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Date Posted: 17:15:27 06/11/02 Tue
Author: Rádia
Subject: {three's a crowd -repost} and {heyla}
In reply to: Kendra 's message, "...." on 21:56:37 06/10/02 Mon

{three's a crowd}
Knees on the verge of buckling, she plasters on a smile. Project confidence, project confidence. Rádia strides over to the young Rain and the two other women around her. During the movement, she studies the Fach. The eyes…calling her. The eyes, those eyes. Forever… Don’t give in! but the eyes… It is at this point that the practical portion of her mind forces sleeping pills down the throat of the mystic portion and she resumes her senses. She flashes a greeting grin to the others. Don’t you dare think of them as competition, think of them as companions. Otherwise you’ll be mean.
Descending to her knees, she offers her the back of her hand for sniffing. After this ‘initiantion’ she strokes the youngling, slender digits caressing the soft pelt, hued, it seems, of the silver stars are made of. Murmuring in an exotic tongue, she greets the Fach, whispers soothingly with a rhythm, syllables falling in a liquid speech. Then, she draws the knotted rope again, offering it to the heir Rian with gusto. A game of catch the rope and rip it into tiny shreds is initianted.


{heyla}
Unsure who the last remark was aimed at, but suspecting it was at the woman who called herself Rhowe'non, she nods. A little tardy in answering, she responds, her voice accented by an exotic tounge that, when in full chant, could send shivers up one's spine.
'Rádia. My father was Célith, my mother Aliryan.' Aliryan, whom I never knew. Shards of half formed memories, brilliant silver eyes, and waves of the same gold flecked auburn she herself had. Célith, the fighter, string build and pirecing blue eyes, hobbled by the death of his forigen wife and their only child. Thrown into courtly life no better than prison. Stop thinking about that! You'll get depressed!

She fixates her attention on the Fach at hand, murmmuring softly in that ancient language. Out of the corner of a sliver streaked sapphirie pool, she studies the other two and attempts to strike up a conversation.
'So. Are you all having a good time here?' Is all she can muster. People skills are greatly lacking. Give her a court lady and she can distract her for hours. Give her two people with more than half a brain she is misreable. Flattery, that is easy. Actual conversation...no. Cutting an obnoxious and mean person down with a razor sharp flood of insults, too simple. Talking to someone who might get the chance to answer, time to run. Slightly embarrassed, she gives a little 'heh' and continues caressing and tempting the youngling with the rope, cooing softly.

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