Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-8723280-20140419193959/@comment-8723280-20140420025653

The actions she was going to do was impuslive, sporatic and normally what you wouldn't consider romantic. But she felt so sad when he talked about how he use to write stories - that would be a lonely life as a child, only with his imagination to accompany him. At least she had a loving family, an older brother to look out for her and yet be her partner in crime with all the things they had done together. But at the same time, she was amazed at his ability. The flourish of his words were beautiful at the time, a better thing produced out of that childhood.

And then he was looking at her. She looked back, looked back up at similar eyes. Burnish, but she could recognize herself in his eyes. His eyes were the most vibrant part of his face despite the streaks in his hair. A nearly-complete stranger (and yet they knew things about each other, more him than her) But she couldn't deny that she found him attractive.

Mariposa saw how he was looking at her, the same way lots of guys looked at young woman - she wasn't stranger to the look, personally and impersonally. She enjoyed the fact that he was looking at her that way, it made her feel special, in a way. Like the girls in the trashy romance novels she would read from time to time - the same ones Lucina would scoff at and yet she would comment and follow the plot at the same time.

So when she leaned up and kissed him, pressing her lips to his, it was almost romantic to her. It was almost like a situation out of those same romance novels, where the broken girl and the broken boy come together to make themselves whole, fixed and complete. Almost like that.