Olivia

She watches her fingers as they tap a steady rhythm along the top of the drum. Her heartbeat seems to pulse out of sync at his words. Pausing, her grey eyes lift to his. "Does it make you want to do anything?" Maybe actions would be easier for him to express.

I miss the days of jumping in puddles after it rains.

#ladsrp #loveanddeepspacerp #bskyladsrp #open

My power went out, and I can't find any batteries for my electric lantern. Please deliver candles.

#ladsrp #loveanddeepspacerp #bskyladsrp #open

I never thought I would be grateful for a thunderstorm.

#ladsrp #loveanddeepspacerp #bskyladsrp #open

"What did you feel when you heard me play? And what do you feel when you draw sounds from these instruments?" She sees he feels things in his own way, but he remains mysterious to her. She wants to know what lives in him, to know him. Rhythmically, she taps her knuckles against the drum.

"Man, dragon, both, you are yourself. You've encouraged me to embrace my many facets, and so, too, will I embrace yours." Her thumb strokes along his cheek, both flesh and scales. She holds his gaze for just a moment, cheeks still warm. "I like music to channel the things I feel." She taps the drum.

She tilts her head up to look at him, her hand reaching out to stroke his cheek, making her heart race. "Would it be so bad if you were? I'd rather align with monsters if the alternative is the humans who cast us out." She smiles softly at him. "You've opened my world, too. We're stronger together."

Happiness isn't something she ever allowed herself to consider. Survival has always come first, but now she thinks. "Yes. Music feels like it gives color to life. And you... give meaning to it." Her cheeks pink, and she busies herself with placing the stick in his hand, adjusting his grip around it.

It's so hot. I feel like I'm melting into a puddle of goo. AND my freezer broke, so I don't even have ice. A travesty.

#ladsrp #loveanddeepspacerp #bskyladsrp #open

She frowns. "I don't want to force you to be more human." But isn't she at least encouraging it? She busies herself with hunting for a drum in the hoard of treasure, gasping whens she finds a beautifully painted one with a nearby stick to tap against it. "Come here. I can't carry it."

She examines his face. "You're worth the effort. If you prefer, we can try to find an instrument with the strings farther apart for your claws. Or if you would rather learn a drum of some kind, I can show you that, too! With sticks in your hands, your claws won't be in the way." She smiles at him.

"A good start." She offers and moves closer so they're shoulder to shoulder. "You hear how each string is different?" She adjusts his fingers on specific strings, tapping the knuckles to show the order to pluck for a simple tune. "You must get used to the movements before it flows smoothly."

Her eyes light up, & she moves closer to him. "I learned in the Sanctuary." Terrible as they are, music is a large part of the culture. "Use the pads of your fingers - keep your claws out of the way - and gently pull and release." She demonstrates the method then hands him the instrument to try.

Her head jerks up in surprise when he approaches, but she recovers and smiles at him. "Only how nice it will be when we finally destroy the Justicars." A jest? Perhaps. She lifts the lyre toward him. "Will you play something? I've seen many instruments in your lair, but I've never heard your music."

Despite initial uncertainties, as she proceeds, her confidence grows and she sways with her composition. In her mind, she can hear a full accompaniment. Her humming is filled with a soft longing, but her fingers pluck something more upbeat. Midway, she falters, unsure where to take the song next.

Against a rust-red backdrop, a woman with long, blonde hair, decorated in braids and golden chains studded with red jewels and white pearls. She looks down and to the side. One, black-gloved hand rests thoughtfully by her face. Along her cheeks and the bridge of her nose is a thorned vine tattoo with a red flower beneath her right eye. Her skin is covered in a vining, black scale pattern. Her bodice is black with red lack and embroidery. The lighting is soft and could almost seem like candlelight.

The candlelit cave is full of treasures. It's a surprise to her when, in her boredom, she pokes around the vast collection and finds an ornately carved lyre. She tests & tunes the strings, then begins to play a simple melody, humming a harmony alongside it.

🐉

@sylus-silverwing.bsky.social #ladsrp

Awesome! Let's meet up beforehand to grab a bite to eat so our growling stomachs don't interrupt the show!

🔫

Sunbeams shine ominously, between dark, rain-filled clouds, upon the aftermath of a field of battlefield. Swords and tattered flags and unmoving bodies in armor litter the ground. Screengrab from Love and Deepspace.

The new play, The Dusty Crown and Epic, at Linkon Grand Theater looks really interesting! I didn't know much about the story, but what better way to learn than to go watch! Who wants to go with me?

#ladsrp #loveanddeepspacerp #bskyladsrp

🔫

Her breath catches at his words, and she can almost feel that soul bond threaded between them. Tentatively, she places a hand over his. "You won't." She sounds more certain than she feels, but she grins at him. "We're survivors after all. We can't die if we walk alongside one another."

Her pulse quickened, cheeks flushing, to hear him speak so plainly. She ate from her bowl to give herself time before she examined his face as if to detect any hint of falsehood. "Special as part of your collection?" She asked, gesturing toward the treasures that decorated every surface of the cave.

She examines him curiously while they eat. "So you enjoy spending time with me after all?" She teases with a smirk.
🐉

She watches him eat a moment before taking her own portion. The bowl warms her fingers. "There will always be a next time with them." She says bitterly as she stares into the stew. "They'll never stop unless someone makes them."
🐉

Once he settles, she ladles the stew into a bowl & passes it to him. "Bring me with you next time. I can help you. Maybe I can even protect you so you're never taken down." There's a hint of mirth in her voice, but truly, she does have the training & the thirst for vengeance to assist.
🐉

A small shiver rolled through her as he dried her skin. "I'm fine." She insisted, her hand touching his wrist. But she gratefully slid onto the cool leather of the passenger seat, dripping water all over the interior. "Thank you for coming to get me. A hot shower is calling my name."
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"Wouldn't you be if rain ruined all your hard work?" She asked as she tossed all the supplies haphazardly into bins. It wasn't lost on her that his 'help' was to hover with the umbrella while she was already soaked through. "How did you even know I was here? Is Mephisto waterproof?"

🔫

Olivia resisted the urge to bite at his finger and instead turned her face away so he couldn't see the way her fair skin flamed scarlet. "Great! Since you're volunteering, you can help me pack all this up!" She grinned at him and shoved a plastic bin into his arms. "I'll dry it all out later."

🔫

Olivia bolted upright & abruptly turned when she heard a familiar voice. She hadn't expected anyone to visit the booth during this downpour. Blinking rain from her eyes, she donned a coy smile. "Trouble, Sy-, Skye?" She quickly corrected. "We've both seen worse. Do you wanna make a wish?"

🔫

"Will you eat by the fire with me? I can help you move if you need." She offers, having not gone over the logistics of their height difference. It's unclear just how injured he may be, but she hopes he's well enough to move on his own. "If you're unable to move far, I'll bring you a bowl."
🐉

Olivianna watches his face as he awakens. "Stew." It is the only thing she knows how to reliably cook, so if he doesn't like he will need to fend for himself. "It will help you heal better. Are you interested?"
🐉

A pink-haired woman bends over with her hands over her head to shield her from the rain. A black scribble by her head indicates annoyance. Her eyes are closed, and gems decorate her upper cheekbones. She wears a red shirt with a black shrug that is held in place with a buckle over her chest.

As rain poured all around, Olivia second-guessed her decision to man the festival's Wishing Booth - especially now that the tarp had torn. Everything was damp, including the wish papers. She only hoped there wouldn't be a thunder storm.

🔫

#openstarter #loveanddeepspacerp #ladsrp #lndsrp