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| Several and various |
| See poses |
| July 11 3013 |
[Note: The first part of this scene went missing due to player error. In summary: Nimara bumped into Michael at the bazaar while looking for a hair clip. Michael asked her to join him for lunch, which lead to his questioning of a future "date." When he revealed he wasn't joking, Nimara responded that she "was not the kind of woman he would end up with" and believed him to be simply rebounding from his latest heartbreak. The following is what occurred afterwards.]
Michael tilts his head slightly, "You are pretty, nothing to it. Just fact." he smiles softly, "This isn't about rebounding from a rejection, technically I didn't get rejected… just didn't move forward from where we stand." he sips, then looks to her eyes, "I don't know why you'd say that, but I'm not about to suggest more than casual dating at this point."
"I don't date," Nimara suddenly retorts, like an outburst more than one of her more casual responses. She watches him with her dark eyes, like a warning more for him than caution for herself. "Rather, I don't necessarily have time to. Besides, you don't know me." She settles back in her seat, shoulders slumped like a child defeated. "I'm merely someone you bumped into."
"So then, we change part of that. We finish lunch, take a walk, have dinner tonight then I walk you home and I comm in a day or two." he takes a bite, chases it with water swallows and speaks, "Nimara Demoore, Dovian Senator from house Cindravale. Has a serious need to learn to dance, has a cute playful nature she hides behind a serene command of such a brain." he looks off again, "Fix the errors, fill in gaps?"
Perhaps it is the Senator in her, and their absolute lack of ability to make a decision. After all, her type were the ones to find every facet of an issue, point out its flaws and then disregard it as a decision to be made another day. But this man, with eyes so gorgeous to her it seems to shut off her brain temporarily, presented something that she was not prepared to argue. "I'm married to my job," she retorts and then draws a breath. "Right, you said casual." She lifts her eyes back to his. "And if you find something you don't like?"
Michael chuckles softly, his eyes flashing a smile of their own at her. "I am married to squiring… but yes, casual dates. Perhaps a few hospital visits when I sustain work related injuries. See how it goes." at her question he sips, and then smiles "Well, then I would need to decide if I can or cannot live with it. I would only expect similar from you."
Nimara begins to chew on her lip thoughtfully, staring off to the side. She reaches for her clutch of cloth over her shoulder, as if considering briefly. She sighs, looking up a moment. "I have to have more than that," she says to herself, instead of him, and then nods once. "Very well. Have you finished your meal? I'd like to show you something."
Michael has decent hearing, and catches her words. "What more do you need?" earnest in his voice. He nods and stands up, offering to follow her now. The waiter comes by and takes Michael's hand print on a payment book. A green flashing and their meal paid for. He smiles to her now, "As was our deal, now what is it you'd like to show me?"
Nimara doesn't answer. She reaches out, her right, organic hand reaching for his. She leads him out of the cafe and through the bazarr. In the distance are the towers of the Vale, and she walks slowly, allowing the speckled night to throw its cape around the sky. "Being a politician is time-consuming," she says without looking at him. They turn down a street with tall buildings, heading more towards the large towers. "I spend more time worrying what others think of me than anything else." She turns her eyes to him. "Like I said, I have to have more than that."
Michael nods to her, "I see…" his soft words lead into no so much a debate about wether or not. "If I find something I don't care for, are you open to discussing it?" again earnest in his voice.
"I am trying to determine, what you are afraid of." he says suddenly.
"I talk for a living," Nimara says, looking back to him as they begin to crest a hill. Beneath them is not street, but a shiny material, almost like thick plastic, which begins to glow with their footsteps. "There's few things I won't talk about. But talking doesn't always mean change." She looks back to him. "But I am not shy, Michael. If I find something in you I don't care for, I won't hesitate to share it." When he speaks again, she pauses… and then smiles slowly. "That's complicated."
Michael smiles softly, "Does change always need to happen? A persons faults give them something unique, why would I want your cute playful nature visible to all, all the time? I wouldn't appreciate when I get to see it." he grins at her, "I think you're pretty, I can see you're smart, I have a glimpse of your humor. Complicated makes you normal, and I like normal. That isn't to diminish how interesting you are though."
The compliments roll in and Nimara smiles, brightness shone in both her mouth and eyes. She laughs, perhaps a touch embarrassed this time. "You're too used to noble women," she says, chiding him with a bump of her good shoulder. "But thank you. You have the prettiest eyes I've seen on a man," she says without flushing, "and you.. remind me of me, actually."
Michael laughs softly, "Well, you are right there." about noble women, "Thank you." he looks around at where they are going, "Do I? A sleeve hearted romantic, poet squire with tragedy in his soul, and hope in his smile?"
Nimara finally laughs heartily and it's loud, a bubbly sound that easily echos along the bridge. "More that I see intelligence, humor and someone a little bit lost." She stops then until they are midway on the bridge. The large towers now stand as guardians; far enough that they aren't close, but near enough to seem empowering. She steps towards the middle; a lower city thrives below. "I know it's silly," she says, "but this is my favorite spot in the city." She looks back to him. "There's a lot to like in the Vale, your tragedies aside."
Michael steps up to her with a smile, "So far, two somethings have I found. Both beautiful." he lets his gaze wanders about them.
Nimara's head dips then, some black hair falling in her eyes and she smiles again. "You've made my day," she says and finally withdraws her hand from his. Turning, she looks to him and is barely able to hold the grin. "Flatterer," she says.
Michael grins back, "Ah, caught me. Thought I got away with it." he snaps his fingers, looking at her his hand brushes away the hair in her eyes. He reches out for her mechanical hand. "I am glad, and you made mine. Does this mean we shall see more of each other? I will need a comm code…"
For the first time, when he grabs her metal hand, Nimara pauses to look down. The mechanical fingers flex, shaped much like her real fingers, but with no warmth; only the cool touch of shined metal. Still, she flexes the fingers and grasps his gently. Looking back to him, her hair out of her face by the machinations of his fingers, she smiles, nodding once. "I suppose I will make the time," she says, the playful grin ever present. At the mention of the code, she lifts her cybernetic from his hand and turns it over. A small panel near the wrist opens when she presses an indent; a thumb pad rests there. "Touch there," she says.
Michael smiles and puts his thumb to the pad. "I will make sure I impress my knight with my hard work So that I am given leave." he chuckles softly, and teases the metal fingers with his now.
The touch pad flares, catching the fingerprint and masking it. There, she gets his code, speaking near her wrist to capture a voice comm. Hers are exchanged with him via a chip she kept in her belt. "The arm doesn't sense things like flesh does," she says softly, having watched the way he touched her. "It's not sensitive. I can sense pressure, but that's it." Her eyes watch him a moment, the smile almost never leaving now. "May I ask you something?"
Michael hms softly, "Interesting, my father programmed a few in the past. He had issue with trying to solve the senses code, and I think they haven't solved it yet." he then makes for the other hand, taking both in his and raising them up to chest height, "Sure, anything."
At the gesture with her hands, Nimara flushes bright enough to turn all of her cheeks pink. She smiles, her tongue passing over her lips once as she watches him. "This is more romantic than my question," she says, a thumb passing over his knuckles. "You said something… about being a squire for several years. May I ask why you are not Knighted?"
Michael smiles a soft bittersweet. "My former knight passed away just weeks proir to my ceremony. I couldn't go through with it… she was my love as well as my knight." he lifts each hand to his lips for a soft kiss, then flexes his fingers up and laces them with hers.
"Your heart is big," Nimara notes, her voice softer than before. When he kisses the metal, her brows twitch together. "It—it doesn't bother you?" she asks then. Though quickly, her mind races towards the next thought. "Even so… why wouldn't you complete your ceremony? Why would you start over?"
Michael smiles, "Thank my father, he's a bigger romantic and far bigger heart." he chuckles softly, "Not at all, it is your hand isn't?" then the question stops him, "I… I sunk into six wasted years of depression. My mother's cancer set a fire under my ass, I once promised she would put my spurs on my boots, so I took up my sword and sought out a knight. " Michael's eys lift to hers, a captive gaze of warmth. Just not smarm or smolder.
Michael stands at roughly six feet tall, a picture of young in roughly is early to mid twenties. He has dark blond-brown hair cut inbetween medium and short, it naturally curls slightly in at the ends. He has grey-blue eyes set gently into an angular face, framed by normal brows. His nose is neither short, nor jutting and sits comfortably between his evenly spaced eyes. His physique is toned, very well defined with straight cut chest and abs, but it doesn't portray any of the features that are standard with great strength. The straight cut of his abs follows through to his waist and down to his legs. His well toned arms are possibly the only indication of his strength, with medium-thick biceps, well defined forearms, and large hands with long fingers.
"Her" hand was up for debate that she would begin another time. When he spoke so truthfully, Nimara lost the smile for a touch of amazement at his sincerity. "So that's the plan now. Move forward, become a Knight of house Ibrahm." Which means whatever potential feelings Nimara may engender for him will forever be at risk. "Fight the Hostiles." She nods then. "If I am able, will you let me help you?"
Michael lets their hands fall to the side, he smiles at her. "I will swear to Ibrahm yes, I am Ibrahm now and will give them my service." solid, then "My hope… is to marry prior to knighting. My knight wants me happy, and she's seen the issues I have faced. Her advice and support is important to me, and she hopes to see me find love." he shrugs, "I place no pressure on myself to do so. I would, however, accept your help. I would also, accept dates and perhaps a kiss or two as they may."
Nimara pauses at the word marriage. Perhaps she's been heartbroken more than her fair share; maybe she's never given a man a chance. Still, the notion doesn't have her running for the hills yet. "You have a good knight, then," Nimara says, and a soft, coy smile curls one side of her mouth. "I approve." Without a word, she leans up, to press a soft kiss to his mouth, as if to punctuate the sentiment.
Michael says softly "The best knight.." then lips to his own, his lips return the kiss. It will break as is natural of such kisses, and he smiles. "Now you, remind me of me… only, you've out done me." he chuckles softly.
"Hardly," Nimara intones, not persuing the kiss more; it was something warm, gentle, but not empassioned. She reaches for his hand again and begins to walk further along the bridge. "Only a kiss," she says, a small smile on her face as the leads him along the way. "I'd like to see you in action sometime. Not again me — I'm just a novice with weapons anymore." She looks over at him. "Besides, it's more engaging than visiting my place of business."
Michael grins at her, "Oh? Putting on breaks now?" a simple tease, "I have helmat footage of me in action, father pieced it together from a variety of other feeds. We can watch it if you'd like, and you place of business doesn't sound so terrible. I might surprise you." he thinks, "Sir Johana and I spar from time to time, I can ask if can come watch sometime."
"Only if she wouldn't mind," Nimara says carefully, looking at him cautiously. "I don't wish to invade on her training you." But she didn't forget his tease. That coy smile returns, a dark playfulness in his eyes. "This is not a racetrack, Michael. I'm not in a hurry. I prefer to enjoy things slowly." Her eyes turn back to him. "Make them last."
Michael laughs, "Sir Johana would grin at me, call me Casanova or Romeo and then say I need the inspiration." his smile takes on a wolfish caste, "As do I… I might have though less of you, if that was on the table this early."
"Can't have that," Nimara says, her smile ever-present. There, she stops on the bridge — the entire walk taking well into an hour — and the night wind blows into her hair a moment. "What shall we do now?" she asks, standing beside him to take a moment to star at the blackened sky above them.
"Well, since we agree no that, perhaps we watch that video of me being impressive?" Michael looks up at the sky, before tugging gently to spin her round to face him, her arm around her. This time he gives a kiss, or steals one depending on point of view, a matching one to the earlier on.
The romantic in him fuels the one in her. For once, the senator stops speaking when the kiss is stolen — for she wasn't expecting it — and then she closes her eyes. Hadn't she just met this man?, questioned her mind. No matter, as she presses her lips against his, the wind gently moving about them and a hand reaches up to gently cup his cheek. Softly, she pulls back, though her forehead uses his to rest. "Better idea," she whispers, "let's get a drink."
Michael looks into her eyes, "Sounds good to me, any particular place?" he puts his other arm around her hugs her, then lets her spin back to his side. "Are you warm enough? Can use my jacket if you'd like." he'll follow her to where ever.
"I've the perfect spot," Nimara says, her naturally pink lips pulled back in a smile that turns into a childlike grin. She called for a taxi of some sort, and during the ride towards the lower city, she held his hand. Her eyes at times got distant, lost in thoughts, masking concerns but it didn't take long for them to reach the place. … It was more like an old smoker's lounge that bar. It was modelled after old fashioned taverns; some tables were made of wood, while the thick, blacklit plastic lit other places of the bar. Bright, unnatural beverages were sold in tall, straight glasses. She pointed him to a table nearby while she made an order. "Vodka for me, whiskey for him." There, she flipped open the panel on the lower part of her forearm.
Michael smiles at the choices, and accepts the glass. He swirls the liquid slightly, and lifts the glass "Thank you." Michael looks around the bar before focusing on her again. "May I ask what was going on in the cab? Could tell somethimg was going on upstairs."
Michael had taken a seat at the table of course.
"Oh, good," Nimara says as she sits beside him, instead of across from him. "You didn't argue that I paid for it." She takes the clear liquid, sipping it. The vodka is a little sweeter at this joint and goes down her throat without even an olive to decorate it. "I think a lot, Michael," she says simply. She turns her head to him. "It's a boon and a curse, and I'm not always ready to discuss them." Her metallic hand reaches for his, resting on top of it. "But when I am, I will tell you. Can we agree to that?"
Michael flips his hand over and idly laces his fingers with hers. "Alright, fair enough. vodka huh?" he smiles, "You know? I didn't drink until just a while ago."
"People talk more when they drink. The senators almost always have something, unless we're being addressed as a whole," Nimara said, sipping the vodka. She offered the clear glass for him to taste. Meanwhile, the toying at her hand causes her metal fingers to curl and lightly flick against his wrist. "What made you start?"
"Rebellious emotions I was able to supress until a mental state was shattered in my first battle. Since then, I have had to deal with growing up in a short time." he pauses, "My adoptive Khourni family, has been a huge help in all this." he looks at her, "What drew you to politics?"
"I have so much to learn about you," Nimara says, watching the way his eyes reflect the light around them when he speaks. She settles more beside him, the glass going to the table in front of him while she leans against his shoulder. "It wasn't what my parents preferred. My father was military and expected his first born become a knight for the paramount." She smiles, though its flavored both salty and sweet. "I loved to read, loved to talk about what I read. Loved to find holes in things, not poke them in others." She shrugs. "But I was supposed to be a knight, and I was in the program half a year until this happened." She moves around her metal fingers. "After that, my mother pulled me out and they sent me to school. I had aptitude for debate, they said. My mother thought I could fight the Hostiles in a different way: at the top, instead of the bottom." She looks back to him. "I went into politics because I love it. It's something I can do, stand up for, and win if I have to."
Michael watches her and smiles as she gets wrapped into her beloved work. "We are so similar, in how we speak about our jobs." Michael smiles, "I used to use a mental technique to zone in battle, I let it slip into my normal life… to deal. Now its gone, broken when an awakened spoke to my mind during battle and I had a steel ribbon in my leg." he shrugs and takes a small drink. "We should practice together."
"Awakened," Nimara intones flatly, the word coming out rather unopinionated for her. Before she can make much more of a mention of it, her head inclines, a curious smile growing there. "Practice what together?" she asks as she reaches for her drink, taking more than a delicate sip.
Michael nods to the word, "Lord Nitrim Khournas, my friend." a grin forms "Oh a lot of things, swords, martial arts, and znything else we both enjoy. I could always use help studying… I was thinking of putting myself through school for a degree in Anglic perhaps." he takes another sip.
"I take archery training on a regular basis," Nimara says, watching him a moment. "But I would love to spar again. I was decent with a sword." Ten years ago, she neglects to add. After a moment, she falls silent and looks down. But the face she dons isn't one of contemplative sadness; the smile is small at a certain wonder. She takes her cybernetic hand and places it on his knee. "I like spending time with you, too," she says. "Tell you what. Next time, let's not make it a date. Ask your knight to allow me to watch you train. And after that, if you're so desperately interested, I'll show you my office."
Michael smiles, "I need to learn archery at somepoint." Her hand on his knee lifts his gaze to hers. "I will ask her, and then yes I would like to see your office." he takes one final chance, hand to her cheek and steals a last kiss from her.
"It's borin—" Nimara tried to say before he kissed her again. Her mind reeled, but too easily she sunk against him. Eyes fell shut as a hand, the organic one, fell against his cheek like his did to hers. Her lips pressed against his softly, curiously. She seemed so small when she sank against his arm, her metallic one buried between them.
Michael pulls her into the kiss a little more, lets the momet last just a bit. The he pulls back, resting his forehead on hers. "Sorry… just so damn kissable I couldn't resist. Nor did I exactly try to either." his thumb rubs her cheek softly.
"Do you apologize when you win a joust?" Nimara asks softly when he pulls back, her fingers finding their way into his hair. Her eyes are half-lidden, a little intoxicated by the affection. "Or for other things you're good at?" She leans in to kiss him again; they're slow, lingering things, but closed-lipped. When she pulls back, that shy smile emerges. "I'll admit… I haven't exactly done something like this before."
Michael smiles, "Not really, no…" next kiss, smile. The his hand slides around her head and he kisses her again. "Neither have I… so I let you lead."
Each kiss is met earnestly, her mouth soft, quietly eager and curious of each. A soft sound comes from her throat as she places one more, letting it linger maybe one moment too long. A soft breath, a reminder of her intentional slow pace, and she withdraws gently. Her fingers lightly plays with his hair. "It's late," she whispers, "and I have to be up early." She kisses him once more. "But you'll let me know right away when I can see you, right? When we're both not busy?"
Michael looks at her, after the final kiss, "As do I, two hours before sun rise on Primus." he chuckles softly, "You get first dibs of my time."
"Good," the senator says and she finally withdraws, though certainly without any willingness to do so. The drink is finished and Nimara gains one last look at him before leaving, if only to confirm that this day actually happened. But she's not the type to blush and flitter off; she walks in her slow stride, of all contemplation.