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Private  - Perish The Thought

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Mateo
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Here are Mateo's thoughts on etiquette: it is a tool, just as much as speech and history and poetry, and every tool has its time and place.

So when he comes in through the balcony, he is not happy to be doing so but also not terribly concerned with his poor manners. This is an old friend (of course, he would never refer to her as old in any context out loud) and anyway if he took the time to politely knock on her door, he would be even more late for their weekly affair.

He lands softly on a long red rug, embroidered beautifully with fine golden thread, and folds his wings at his sides. Llew's quarters have a familiar and undeniably pleasant scent that he could never quite pin down. It was the smell of candles and perfume and her-- floral and feminine and untouchable. He breathes in deeply as he looks around, and his features quickly break into a broad grin when he sees her, almost as though he's surprised to see her here, in her own quarters, at the appointed time, fretting (or rather, pointedly not fretting) over a teapot. The regularity of their encounters has done nothing to sate his enthusiasm for them.

Mateo takes a deep bow. One leg forward, wings tucked back neatly. His mane is disheveled, suggesting his lateness is either the result of oversleeping or losing track of time in flight. He notes that she is impeccable as always, hair neatly braided and long (long) tail curled gracefully at her side.

"Sorry I'm late, Llew." He has the grace to look sheepish, and his eyes travel the length of the rug he stands on as though suddenly fascinated with its details. It appears he is waiting for an acceptance of his apology before he helps himself to tea. He's not usually late and he truly is sorry for it.

Eventually he raises his silver-green eyes to meet hers and there is a spark of mischief there, poorly hidden. He draws a golden tiger lily from beneath his wing, where it was kept safe from the frost but had unfortunately gotten a little smooshed. It hovers between them like an unfortunate peace offering. "You look stunning, as usual." His lips purse into a smile that is at once playful and genuine. Much like etiquette, flattery was a tool with its time and place.

- - -
@Llewelyn Y E S. I love her so much already! (sorry for the wait!)
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Messages In This Thread
Perish The Thought - by Llewelyn - 05-01-2019, 03:11 PM
RE: Perish The Thought - by Mateo - 05-09-2019, 06:26 PM
RE: Perish The Thought - by Llewelyn - 05-09-2019, 10:32 PM
RE: Perish The Thought - by Mateo - 05-12-2019, 01:36 PM
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