[RP] Open Post!

[rinwell]

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[rinwell]

[ It hadn't occurred to Rinwell that not looking could, in fact, be somewhat challenging. She's practically boring a hole through her side of the towel with how focused she is on its weave. Sure, Law tended to be far more oblivious than she about certain social norms, and traveling on the road had always meant there was some level of leeway, of relaxed common courtesy given to your companions.

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.' ]

[counterattack]

( rinwell's eye level, peering over the lowered top of that towel, is just about law's shoulder height, maybe a little less. that means she's already at something of an unfair advantage, even if it's not all that much of him to see. it's not like he's any stranger to the odd sensuality of someone's baggy top slipping off their bare shoulder or catching a little extra flash of collarbone and stuff like that, but this is... this is... a little different. a lot different...? it's not like law doesn't know how he can feel markedly more naked with rinwell peeking at him like this than he might grabbing a bath with the guys or something, but he's surprised by how it makes him... y'know... feel. )

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— )

[rinwell]

[ While Rinwell may be a very smart young lady, she's never been quite as good at gauging other people's interest that wasn't first and foremost regarded with wary suspicion on her part. A lifetime of secrecy, being raised in Cyslodia, the two combined was enough to make anyone overly cautious. But in the last couple of years, she'd never even looked at any other guys. Or girls, for that matter. Sure, she'd complimented Alphen in the past, and you'd have to be blind to not notice that Kisara was gorgeous, but that wasn't remotely the same as.. as..

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.]

[counterattack]

( funnily enough, it only dawns on him after he's done it that by draping the towel around her, he's also effectively lowering it enough to give her more to see, too. what starts as just his shoulders quickly becomes, um—everything, no barrier between them to hide behind anymore. he's wearing underwear, at least, but that's not saying a lot when it's also kinda soaked and clinging to him... but at least it's not white like some people. it's black, thank you very much. still, thankfully, self-consciousness about his own body only extends as far as the typical teenage awkwardness of someone who's never really offered it up to be looked at this way before. that being said, he also doesn't look down.

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. )

[rinwell]

[ Rinwell's hands slowly shift to cup her face in an old but familiar pose, one that rather conveniently holds the towel further against her, arms absently position so that if he even did peek --which he isn't. is he?-- a tease of cleavage is about as good as he'd get if the towel were to, oh, start slipping down. Only once he makes a firm move do her hands then drop again, restless and with seemingly nowhere to go.

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?) ]

[counterattack]

Aah—!

( 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. )

[rinwell]

[ Of all the reactions Rinwell could have anticipated, that. That wasn't one of them. Her hands freeze in place, caught between folds of fabric and the planes of his upper torso, and maybe the reality of what she's doing (—how firm he feels beneath her palms, the catch, rise and fall of his chest—), what they are doing (taking turns toeing a metaphorical line now physically bordered by a towel), is beginning to sink in a little.

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?

[counterattack]

Uh...

( 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) )

[rinwell]

[ It's almost funny how the physical contact becomes background noise to the rising drum beat of her heart, the sound deafeningly loud in Rinwell's ears. She watches his face, watches his eyes shift away from her and tries to follow, because Law has never ever been able to hide how he feels from showing in them. Is this supposed to be a difficult question? She hadn't meant it to be, but that could count for so many things that have happened in both their lives.

(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. ]