Amaya Blackstone (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
special_rabbit) wrote2019-07-19 04:22 pm
special_rabbit) wrote2019-07-19 04:22 pm
Entry tags:
6 Unicorn Street; Friday Night [07/19].
It felt a little strange acknowledging it, what with the way the summer had been going as a whole, but Amaya was actually having herself a really good week, even with being made a target in Diaz's class today. Maybe even because of it, because she knew she'd earned it, really, and she was still sort of riding the high of that competitive spirit from the trebuchet competition on Wednesday, she'd gotten the greenhouse finished this week. She'd had a chance to enjoy a few ales down at Caritas, too, which felt like something she couldn't quite get to as regularly as she used to, so that was nice.
And, if she just so happened to have found a certain mood there at the bottom of one of those mugs, well, she had a solution for that on hand as well. No fuss, no mushy stuff, just a simple solution and a good use of the pleasant buzz she'd built up. Built up enough to the point where she'd almost sent off her message to the wrong person just out of old habits (between the doors and the trebuchets and the balls being thrown at her, who could blame her, really?), but she caught herself and redirected things so they went to the right place.
Or, at the very least, the place more likely to yeild result at the moment.
Good night for a movie.
No, Amaya didn't even own a TV.
That was kind of the point.
[[lol, they had to find out eventually! NFB, if you please, and for the recipient of said text for great SP and probably awkwardly NSFW shenanigans ]]
And, if she just so happened to have found a certain mood there at the bottom of one of those mugs, well, she had a solution for that on hand as well. No fuss, no mushy stuff, just a simple solution and a good use of the pleasant buzz she'd built up. Built up enough to the point where she'd almost sent off her message to the wrong person just out of old habits (between the doors and the trebuchets and the balls being thrown at her, who could blame her, really?), but she caught herself and redirected things so they went to the right place.
Or, at the very least, the place more likely to yeild result at the moment.
Good night for a movie.
No, Amaya didn't even own a TV.
That was kind of the point.
[[lol, they had to find out eventually! NFB, if you please, and for the recipient of said text for great SP and probably awkwardly NSFW shenanigans ]]
no subject
There was only so much patience that Amaya had in her, and it had already been stretched pretty thin. And there was only so much neck-kissing a woman--at least, a woman like Amaya, anyway---could handle before your mind just started turning a bit toward...fish.
She needed to be doing more, anyway, with her hands. Amaya didn't do well with idle hands. And so those hands were now slipping over Seivarden's shoulders to her chest, pushing her away, pushing her back, toward that aforementioned table of noteworthy sturdiness. ANd as they traveled back, her hands traveled down a little further, to make swift work (or at least try to) of the removal of Seivarden's trousers.
Quickly. Seivarden may have figured the island was thinking they required more patience, but Amaya's shiny gold coins were going right toward a push for more efficiency.