MAEA
It was always a dramatic affair, whenever Maea blushed. It was not the delicate little tint of pink on the cheeks so avidly described in litterature, nor the kind of localized tincture of color one might expect from someone of fair complexion. Instead, it was a flush, a torrent, an onslaught of red that started at the ears and swept down from forehead to cheeks, dripping down jawline and chin all the way down the neck. It made her look blotchy, with white patches around the eyes and mouth. Not at all quaint, or adorable. More along the lines of damned awkward, uncomfortable and very obvious.
And the little quip Sunjata threw her way did make her blush. Perhaps he had not intended the words in any particular meaning, but the suggestion that there might be meaning behind them was enough to make her writhe on her rock. Snatching up the basket with her telekinesis, she very carefully avoided looking at him as she brought the dripping container through the air towards her. Feeling the awkward silence like a suffocating pressure over the chest as she failed to find an adequate retort, Maea busied herself with the ridiculous task instead. Feigning concentration.
It didn't really work, because the way she leaned out to find the reflection of the sun in the water of the river was halfhearted. As was the throw as she sent the basket flying with a flick of her hand, landing with a splash over the spot where the sun had been. Of course neither sun nor basket remained in that state; the water began to swiftly carry the basket away and the sun?
Well. It was still there.
"So much for being creative," she mumbled, wishing away herself along with the rapidly disappearing basket.
And the little quip Sunjata threw her way did make her blush. Perhaps he had not intended the words in any particular meaning, but the suggestion that there might be meaning behind them was enough to make her writhe on her rock. Snatching up the basket with her telekinesis, she very carefully avoided looking at him as she brought the dripping container through the air towards her. Feeling the awkward silence like a suffocating pressure over the chest as she failed to find an adequate retort, Maea busied herself with the ridiculous task instead. Feigning concentration.
It didn't really work, because the way she leaned out to find the reflection of the sun in the water of the river was halfhearted. As was the throw as she sent the basket flying with a flick of her hand, landing with a splash over the spot where the sun had been. Of course neither sun nor basket remained in that state; the water began to swiftly carry the basket away and the sun?
Well. It was still there.
"So much for being creative," she mumbled, wishing away herself along with the rapidly disappearing basket.
