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[RP] Open Post!
I love both canon and AU scenarios, and anything set pre-, mid and post-game. Be it found family, platonic, fluff, shippy, chaotic nonsense, and/or cross-canon, I'll happily roll with almost anything! :)
You can find my permissions here, and if you've a particular idea you'd like to roll my way, don't hesitate to DM me or just toss a starting tag on this post! ♥
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It's the fact there is a Mood at all that has Rinwell thoroughly distracted, especially as Law is Right There, and her eyes can't help but follow the curve of his arm as he reaches up to hang things for her. She'd have no room to talk when she can't help but stare like that, when any other time, there'd be a quip at how useful he is for once because of his height.
And then he's looking down at her, and she's looking up at him, and it's really really unfair that he has such pretty eyes, especially when he's looking at her like that. ('like that'. she can't tell what he's thinking, and it flusters her? He's usually such an open book, but right now, Rinwell can't tell her own thoughts apart, never mind what thoughts Law has running through his head.) ]
Y-yeah?
[ He doesn't get to finish whatever it was he was going to say, and any train of thought Rinwell was having is derailed by that knock, heart pounding in her ears, and she looks back into the fire as she tries to get some semblance of control back. ]
We-- oh. Yeah. We should.. Do that, I guess. I— [she looks down; her face goes a brilliant scarlet as it finally dawns on her what he might be talking about, and she whirls away, pendant still gripped in one hand.] UH. I. Um. Don't look.
[ ..a little too late for that, but at least it's whispered at him rather than yelled, and a second towel (larger than the first she gave him) is tossed from the bed to Law. Her own towel is then draped about her shoulders like a half-cape, pulled closed across her chest, before one of the spare blankets is retrieved from the pile and wrapped around her so she's swallowed by it entirely.
All the better to hide her face as she tries not to die of embarrassment. ]
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( damn it, was he just reading into things after all? well, that's typical. and he probably shouldn't say what he says out loud for fear of getting her mad at him, but it just seemed so... deliberate. and he could've sworn, by the way they made eye contact for a second, that—well, his mistake, maybe.
unless???
he turns to grab the next towel as she chucks it at him, and this one he should probably really be tying around his waist so he can get his sopping wet pants off, but instead he stands there gaping and doing the very thing rinwell said not to do: looking. not, like, staring, she's hidden in the blanket for crying out loud! but something in his lizard brain says not to drop the subject just yet, and he might just be on a fast track to getting electrocuted or shoved into the fireplace or something, but you know what? that's a risk he's willing to take. for. some completely insane reason he hasn't yet acknowledged. )
H-Hey, don't just use the blanket, you'll get it all wet! Just— here, what if I just...?
( What If He Just, steps closer and holds the towel she threw at him lengthwise in front of her, raised just high enough to block his own line of sight and effectively create a little "wall" for her to hide behind while she changes? of course, all he'd have to do is kinda... lean to the side... and in fact that's exactly what he does, but only to see how she's decided to react to his frankly genius idea. )
There, now I can't see anything. As if I kinda didn't already, what with your shirt being see-through and all. ...U-Uh, not that I noticed that or anything.
( literally how could he point it out if he hadn't noticed—look, lizard brain doesn't use logic. )
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[ Outside, there's a near ominous rumble from the storm. Pure coincidence, surely.
It is of course both an entirely fair question, and utterly unfair of Rinwell, given how little space there is here, the fact she hadn't checked herself over before turning, and the fact that under other circumstances, this wouldn't have even come up at all. And her brain can't help but point out that she'd liked the fact he was looking at her, gleefully popping the bubbles of denial that try to surface in reply.
And he'd looked away. He'd blushed too. So, did that mean..?
And NOW he's even trying to help(? is it really helping?). In pure Law foot-in-mouth fashion, of course, and the blanket turns to give him and his 'genius' idea a very sullen look. The fact he has a point about getting the blanket wet, even with her own towel in place, just serves to make part of her mad because how dare he even raise that right now!
...The need to bicker with Law starts to trump her common sense. Or maybe she just wants to call his bluff. He's not looking, is he? Fine. Fine! ]
Fine. Then stop looking.
[ If he's going to make that offer, then she's going to take it. She glares, waiting for him to, you know, avert his gaze. Is he still looking? Because the blanket doesn't get dropped until Law does in fact keep those eyes firmly on his side of the towel, and she lets it bunch around her feet before pushing it aside with her left foot. There's a moment's hesitation --still not looking?-- before she shucks off her shorts, face beginning to burn. She considers, then leaves the stockings for now, because this is the part where if he's serious, then it won't matter, because he's not looking.
(But does she want him to look? Rinwell tries very VERY hard not to mentally answer that question.)
She takes a breath. There's a shift of arms, the slide of wet fabric, before a white shirt hits the floor near to the fire place, having been dragged up and over her head. She considers for a moment picking her own towel back up, but--
Much smaller hands move to the space next to his on the towel, to take over holding it. No peeking goes each way, after all. (Is this a test? Why is this a test. Why did she think this was a good idea?) ]
[breathless] Your turn.
[ (After a rather long wait on their part, there's a cough outside the door, before the innkeeper speaks up again: "I'll just leave this here for you two. Breakfast will be cold cuts and bread. Just come on down stairs if you need anything else." ) ]
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( to his great credit, law leans back around to "his side" of the towel and doesn't dare breach it once rinwell actually, holy crap, agrees to his ridiculous idea. ridiculous, yeah, but look, it works. try as he might—and you better believe he tries—he can't see a thing through the material of the towel, no matter how long he stares bullets at it. all he's treated to are the faint sounds of rustling and wet fabric hitting the floor, maybe the faintest of silhouettes if he squints really, really hard... nope, that's just his imagination. and then, finally, rinwell's hands appear on either side. he almost— almost leans around to look before his brain catches up to him and realizes that he categorically can't do it.
it'd be... breaking the rules, or something. are there even any rules here? probably for the best if there are; he's so flushed the fire over in the fireplace feels too hot to put up with anymore, and he almost wants to crack a window. )
Wait, you actually—whaddaya mean, my turn?! I don't need to hide behind a stupid towel!
( oh, no? so what's he going to do, just whip his pants off right in front of her? if he were going to do that, he wouldn't have waited for her to come back so she didn't wind up walking in and getting an eyeful in the first place. and he wouldn't be staying right where he is, hidden behind the towel.
still, whether he's too wuss to step out from behind the towel or if he's just granting rinwell the benefit of him staying in place, there isn't that long of a pause before the telltale sound of law unbuckling his belt and sliding his pants off fills up the silence. and that call from outside? at this point, he's so worked up he barely even notices it. he doesn't just nudge his aside, though, he takes the time to fling the wet garment across the room, where it... thankfully doesn't land in the fire. then his hands return right back to where they were, just above rinwell's.
like they're about to start having a tug-o-war over the thing. )
There! Now what, genius?! One of us is gonna have to let go first, and it's not gonna be me.
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But what had been intended as little more than turnabout being fair play has rapidly become a frisson of nerves, of wondering. Of.. She hadn't intended for this...this tension. This weight of expectation that something was going to happen. If only one of them would--
And there go his pants. Fortunately NOT into the fire, or there'd be a very different problem to deal with. Aaaaand here comes the commentary, and Rinwell flares pink again. ]
Well obviously the next step is to dry off.
[ Obviously. It's a good thing he's renewed his grip on the towel, because once he does so, one of her hands shifts to pull it down -- no chance to peek! Just enough so brown eyes can peer over the top at Law more easily, glowing almost amber in the fire light. (She may also be standing on her tip toes while doing so. He's tall, okay!!) ]
Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you! Well, I-- ah.. [Her mouth opens. Closes.
Then there's a soft huff, almost laughter, directed at herself, at the situation. before:] Aheh....What are we even doing?
['...because I don't know what I'm doing.' ]
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Y...Yeah, maybe I would.
( there's a distinct waning quality to the heat in his voice all of a sudden, less petulantly bickering and more coming to the arresting realization that, actually, yeah, he would like that. "that" as in rinwell letting go of the towel, and "that" as in where having control of where that towel goes might get him, and "that" as in rinwell, and... it's not new news, and he might still be operating on prehistoric hormones brain, but hey, it got him this far. and she, y'know, isn't throwing a shoe at his head or shrieking at him, she's... is it just him, or is that question kind of more of an invitation? )
We're, uh... we're... drying off. And I already got a head start, which means you...
( what if, instead of lowering that towel, he started angling it toward rinwell so that he can press it against her, instead? that seems, in his mind, like a better use of their time than "arguing" over who gets to peek first. he might not get to see anything, but— )
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Rinwell could say she simply hadn't wanted that kind of attention for herself. But, maybe, really, it had simply been enough to have her best friend with her, once they'd decided on their own adventures. That maybe she'd taken something for granted, in his being there.
His reply arrests her; there's none of the play-bite of their earlier verbal sparring to it, almost leaning into the quieter serious tone that their private conversations sometimes carry, but-- no, even this. This is different, somehow, and she blinks at him in an owlish manner that looks a lot more adorable than she's aware of. ]
Law..
[ And if the heat is waning in his voice, then it could be argued that something is kindled in hers, especially as the towel shifts, directed back against her, until the top line runs parallel to her shoulder line and it drapes, drapes down and while it's hardly as revealing at the water soaked fabric of her halter top, well. Maybe it's what's implied that counts more right here, right now.
(For her part, Rinwell resolutely does not look down. Much as she very, very much wants to. And she has absolutely no idea what to do with her hands -- except to, let go. Of. The towel.) ]
..I thought you said you weren't going first.
[for the record, her own blush most definitely spills past the towel line.]
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at least not at himself. at rinwell, though? yeah. his eyes are laser-focused on her, try as he may not to make it overly obvious how hard he's staring at the way the towel hugs her wet skin. when she lets go, that gives him all the agency he needs to rest it against her shoulders and then, boldly, to start to rub them and her upper arms dry. maybe the back of her neck, too, his hand slipping behind her hair, wrapped in the towel— )
Did... I say that? I kinda forget now. Suddenly.
( "suddenly." well, if there's one thing that's also plenty visible besides just about every inch of his toned body, it's how much he is blushing all over the place on it. stammering, he tries to save face and make up some, what? excuse? for what he's just—doing without really asking?? but it all is sort of hollow, because he's only following the cues he's pretty sure he's not imagining. still: )
It's just, uh, I mean, you'll get sick if you don't—a-and the food'll get cold!
( right, yeah, the food that is just languishing outside the door, never to be eaten. )
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He isn't the only one blessed by teenaged awkwardness (convenient colours of undergarments aside - though really, black may make certain things more discreet but white sure benefited him today), and as Law takes his sweet time rubbing along her arms and shoulders, the drag of fabric does nothing to dispel the goosebumps she can feel rising in the wake of contact.
But if he really, truly needed a cue that what he's doing is, in fact, not only welcomed but, dare he imagine it, encouraged, surely that's sign posted by the catch in her breath that is a little louder than she intended as he runs a hand up and over the curve of her shoulder. Drags the towel along the length of her neck, until his hand settles behind. And the fact she doesn't pull away; maybe even leans into it. A little. ]
"Suddenly". [that's not as dry as she wanted to make it; lower lip catches between her teeth as she keeps her gaze fixed on the chain around his neck] Forgetting like that.. Well, t-that's no good. I hope that's not a sign you're getting sick.
[ Tentatively, her own hands catch the bottom half of the towel; internal debate rages, before she makes up her mind, and both of her palms press the towel against the flat of his stomach. Lightly dragging upwards, to trail along his abs. ]
You.. You don't want to get cold, either. So..
[ Never mind the blazing fire beside them. (Dinner? What dinner?) ]
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( that's a manly, manly sound, that aah. that is the aah of a guy who's been outplayed and can't even be mad about it. and really, where else was she going to go with that? everything above the waist would be kinda hard to get at with the way they are right now, unless she decided to skip using the towel as a buffer entirely, but that's a bold move beyond which a squeaky aah could ever hope to cover.
law's face is beet red in seconds, as if it wasn't kind of already, and to save face after that impressive aah he says the first super suave thing he can think of: )
Oh, I-I'm not cold, believe me.
( i mean. it's true, he isn't. not anymore. he's pret-ty warm between the fire and certain other things. his eyes jump from her hands to his, and he pretends like an accident when the towel "slips" on one side, so that it's just his bare fingers on the back of her neck, sliding through wet strands of long back hair to the back of her head. then around to the side of her face, brushing it back from her temple and tucking it behind her ear. what's his excuse for that one, huh?
he doesn't have one. he's just doing whatever now, apparently. )
...I always wanted to do that.
( and admitting whatever now, apparently? okay. )
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Oh, I-I'm not cold, believe me.
She lets out a shaky breath in reply, not sure if she's trying to smile or laugh, or try to look— well— ]
Maybe you have a fever then, from being out in the rain.
[ —sure, Rinwell. Sure, let's go with that.
He's still staring at her so intently, and she finally lets her gaze lift above that collar bone she's been so intently fixated on. It is one thing to know the boy you like (Like, you Like him, and oh why is it now that that's really catching up with her) is a martial artist, to have seen him practice his forms nightly to stay in shape, to stay in absolute fighting trim. It is another to see that up close, to see how the splashes of colour play out across his skin, and—
Law runs fingers through her hair and everything seems to stop. She'd been growing it out, dark locks teasing well past her shoulders nowadays, but this weather? Reminds her why she kept it in a short bob to begin with. Right up until now, Law skirting past that unspoken boundary line started with the stupid towel and with stupid words and stupid clothes, and that tiny tiny oh from before, the one in the back of her head? ]
O-oh. [now who's red?] ..H-how long is always?
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( how long is always? trying to think about it with her hands resting against his body and him suddenly overly conscious of every breath he takes in and out, his one hand on her shoulder, holding the top of that towel in place, the other stroking through the long ends of her hair just because he doesn't know what else to do with it yet, he can barely come up with an answer. it feels like always has just been literally always, but he knows for a fact it's not since the moment they met each other. you know. considering... what was going on when they met each other. it takes effort to think of it, which quickly morphs from the less pressing task of wondering how long he's wanted to stroke her hair back like that to the much, much more pressing one of trying to answer the question, when is the exact moment i fell in love with rinwell?
because then he has to contend with the thought (not for the first time, but still) that he even has those kinds of feelings, and he still doesn't really know what to do with them. obviously, because here he is how much longer later after that when, just now doing the thing he's been wanting to do all along. now who's red? him again. )
Since... ( his eyes jump to hers; he wets his lips, pursing them, and looks away. looks back again and keeps his gaze there, seemingly unabashed about the head-on eye contact, but really it feels like the force of will it takes to do is... intense. ) ...Since Niez, I think. After—y'know. Everything. When I saw your walls come down for the first time, that was when I wanted to.
( maybe that's not the happiest memory to bring up, and maybe that's a messed up time to suddenly catch feelings, but the heart wants what it wants and it don't wait for a good opportunity. )
And... I guess I've just wanted to ever since.
( this isn't just about the hair thing anymore. is it. (nope) )
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(But really, there was always a slippery slope involved with that question, because Rinwell has never been very good at letting things lie with just one.) ]
Law..
[ Rinwell's not sure what kind of answer she was expecting, but it wasn't. It wasn't Niez. Because even now, that's a memory bound up in so many emotions, so many feelings tangled together, and even standing here years later, there's still curls of guilt that focus in the depths of her stomach to know what kind of person she'd been then, what sort of person she could have become.
Who she would have become, if not for the boy— no.
If not for the young man in front of her.
Her eyes are large and round, and there's a faint hitch to her breathing as her face burns in a similar shade to his own, as her mind helpfully points out just how long ago that was, and it's like the beginning of a mental puzzle suddenly lining up, disparate threads pulling together just so as it replays conversations in her head, and her mind puts several details together. ]
Then, that night on Daeq Faezol, before we went to Rena—
[ He tried to tell her then, didn't he?
Rinwell's the one who breaks the held gaze. There's no small part of her that wants to melt into the floor at just how absolutely blind she's been. However, looking down is a mistake, so brown eyes immediately diverting towards the fire, to the sight of their clothes strewn about. And she can feel something else unfurling too, a sense of better late than never that's almost giddy with new realisation that in spite of everything, this is still where they've ended up. Together.
Another wall is coming down, this time one that had been between them. ]