1 Apr 2025, 01:40
Hearts, Hexes, and Hesitations
Aamon had never been good at timing. Or plans. Or talking to girls without sounding like he had consumed paint as a child. But he was good at… existing. Accidentally. In a way that made portraits sigh and random first-years bump into walls. He was handsome, but when he opened up his mouth, the fantasy dispersed.
He wanted to keep his shoes out of his mouth, just this once. Aamon had spent the entire morning rehearsing lines in front of a very unimpressed mirror. Half of them were bad. The other half were worse. One involved a rose. One involved an accidental wink. There may have been a very unfortunate pun that involved the word "spring-loaded." He didn’t want to talk about it.
He just knew one thing:
He had to ask Nabi to the dance before the dolls got him.
A weird sentence, maybe. But not to Aamon.
There was a decent chance he wouldn't survive until the spring dance. Which meant…
He had to shoot his shot.
He did not know where Nabi was when she was not ignoring everyone in the Slytherin Common Room when she would reads a book. He got the sense he was intruding on some intimate moment between her and the ink-covered pages. He would have to find her elsewhere - she had to eat, right? Yeah, girls ate, they just did not like admitting to it.
Aamon did not eat in the Great Hall, but he assumed that he would find her there. That was where he had found Xiomara. So, during the evening meal Aamon would enter the Great Hall and scan the crowd with his mismatched eyes. She was sitting before a plate of food, her expression one that said “don’t test me” that he found both terrifying and beautiful. Definitely not someone who'd respond well to an awkward, half-choked compliment about the weather.
Aamon ran a hand through his hair, took a breath, and strolled over, trying very hard to seem casual. He approached her with all the confidence of a toddler wearing their father's shoes: wobbly, but weirdly determined.
“Hey, Nabi,” he said, his smile crooked. He made sure to enunciate, so his greeting came out more as a shout than a casual greeting. “So… here’s the thing.”
The Athanatos paused.
“You probably have… like, a long list of people asking you to the dance. Honestly, there’s probably a signup sheet somewhere. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to go with a model. Or a prince. Or a centaur.” Another breath. Reset. Why did he say centaur? At least he did not say Matt, her muggle-born boyfriend. Aamon did not consider @Mathew Campbell to be his rival, he considered Matt to be a bully and @Nabi Park to have shit taste.
“I just figured maybe you and I could go... Together. Like, in coordinated colors, doing vaguely synchronized movements. Dancing. That sort of thing.”
He scratched the back of his neck.
“I promise I’m good at snacks, moderately okay at waltzing, and unlike most of our housemates, I bathe regularly. That’s, like, a full package, right?”
Then, as if worried he was overstepping, he flashed that soft, ridiculous grin of his and added, “But if you already have a date," he shrugged "I’ll totally just stand near you and heckle whoever got there first.” Matt.
He waited.
Sort of.
Mostly he just stared at her, indifferent to the shared gaze of the other students he had interrupted with his invitation.
He wanted to keep his shoes out of his mouth, just this once. Aamon had spent the entire morning rehearsing lines in front of a very unimpressed mirror. Half of them were bad. The other half were worse. One involved a rose. One involved an accidental wink. There may have been a very unfortunate pun that involved the word "spring-loaded." He didn’t want to talk about it.
He just knew one thing:
He had to ask Nabi to the dance before the dolls got him.
A weird sentence, maybe. But not to Aamon.
There was a decent chance he wouldn't survive until the spring dance. Which meant…
He had to shoot his shot.
He did not know where Nabi was when she was not ignoring everyone in the Slytherin Common Room when she would reads a book. He got the sense he was intruding on some intimate moment between her and the ink-covered pages. He would have to find her elsewhere - she had to eat, right? Yeah, girls ate, they just did not like admitting to it.
Aamon did not eat in the Great Hall, but he assumed that he would find her there. That was where he had found Xiomara. So, during the evening meal Aamon would enter the Great Hall and scan the crowd with his mismatched eyes. She was sitting before a plate of food, her expression one that said “don’t test me” that he found both terrifying and beautiful. Definitely not someone who'd respond well to an awkward, half-choked compliment about the weather.
Aamon ran a hand through his hair, took a breath, and strolled over, trying very hard to seem casual. He approached her with all the confidence of a toddler wearing their father's shoes: wobbly, but weirdly determined.
“Hey, Nabi,” he said, his smile crooked. He made sure to enunciate, so his greeting came out more as a shout than a casual greeting. “So… here’s the thing.”
The Athanatos paused.
“You probably have… like, a long list of people asking you to the dance. Honestly, there’s probably a signup sheet somewhere. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to go with a model. Or a prince. Or a centaur.” Another breath. Reset. Why did he say centaur? At least he did not say Matt, her muggle-born boyfriend. Aamon did not consider @Mathew Campbell to be his rival, he considered Matt to be a bully and @Nabi Park to have shit taste.
“I just figured maybe you and I could go... Together. Like, in coordinated colors, doing vaguely synchronized movements. Dancing. That sort of thing.”
He scratched the back of his neck.
“I promise I’m good at snacks, moderately okay at waltzing, and unlike most of our housemates, I bathe regularly. That’s, like, a full package, right?”
Then, as if worried he was overstepping, he flashed that soft, ridiculous grin of his and added, “But if you already have a date," he shrugged "I’ll totally just stand near you and heckle whoever got there first.” Matt.
He waited.
Sort of.
Mostly he just stared at her, indifferent to the shared gaze of the other students he had interrupted with his invitation.
iNPC: Taylor Athanatos
1 Apr 2025, 10:12
Hearts, Hexes, and Hesitations
Banner by Miss Mellani Miller
Date: 2025.03.27 |
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Note: Thoughts, Speech, Aamon |
The week was nearing its end, Nabi had been having some rather...interesting nights ever since she received the dolls. All four of them were left by an unknown person on different days. Was it a joke? A childish attempt at humor?
Or something else entirely?
The month of love had passed, and the talk of a ball appeared to be the topic of choice for some. Whispers could be heard in classes and the corridors, plans of gestures to ask someone to accompany them to such an... event. The day was mostly over as Nabi had left her textbooks in her dormitory before making her way to the Great Hall for supper. Passing a small cluster of students who spoke in giddiness about getting dates, Nabi remembered the ball she had attended at the beginning of the school year. Should I attend this ball? Her gray eyes narrowed in thought. Nabi had not planned on taking a date the previous ball, and this upcoming ball was no different, Everyone seems to have a date in mind...
Valentine's day may have brought good fruits.
She hummed in thought before taking a turn and entered the rowdy great hall. The usual chaos wrapped around her, nearly suffocating her, yet she stepped in further— her gray eyes focused on her house's designated table. Hoping to blend in with the crowd, she sat down and calmly fixed herself a plate while she glanced around. There were students around her talking about who they planned on asking out to the ball.
The mention of gifts caught her attention, and her eyes widened slightly in thought.
Her plate of food was in front of her, and her hands were placed on either side, her gaze drifting forward. Could the unknown sender of the dolls have been trying to ask me to be their date?
Lost in thought, she did not notice the all-too-familiar Aamon waddle his way over like some child contemplating how to ask their parent for a chocolate frog at the counter. His voice came out rather loud... louder than the undisiplined great hall. Catching her off guard, she flinched Bloody hell.... and looked up to see Aamon and his little lopsided smile. The sight caused her eyes to narrow slightly, What are you scheming? She cleared her throat, her usual demeanor returning, "Mister Athanatos..."
"So… here’s the thing."
As the young Athanatos paused, Nabi gave a slight nod, indicating for him to speak. Why does he seem nervous? Aamon began to talk, rambling about having a sign-up sheet; going with a model or prince did not prepare her for the next thing he would say. A centaur?... Why would I be going with a centaur? Nabi raised an eyebrow and watched as Aamon drew a breath, as if he had spoken faster than the speed of light.
Surely, he had a wand to his head. Is he asking in someone else's place? Wait-
As if Aamon could read her mind, he spoke again. The word together lingered in the air, and she tilted her head in thought, his words finally processing as she realized he was asking her to attend the ball with him. Had she been asked how she expected her evening to play out, her answer would have been anything but the situation she found herself in. Yet, as if the world decided to keep her on her toes,
Her heart fluttered...
Nabi's eyes widened slightly and her hands left the table. Aamon must have noticed her reaction as he scratched the back of his neck and listed reasons why he was a full package. Meanwhile, her mind was drawing a blank...
Interesting how the young Aamon always seemed to find a new way to run her speechless.
She was unsure what he meant by good with snacks, but her ears turned pink at the thought of dancing with him. However, the thought would soon be squished by his statement of hygiene ...taking daily baths should not be seen as something out of the world. But of course, what did she expect? boys are quite odd.
The food on her plate was turning cold as she sat in silence, contemplating his words whilst looking up at him with wide eyes. Nabi continued to observe him, her eyes following the way he grinned before looking back up at his eyes. "But if you already have a date, I’ll totally just stand near you and heckle whoever got there first." A faint smile appeared on her face before she looked down at the table, a low hum escaping her, I doubt that.
Nabi thought he said that to add some humor. Glancing back up at him, she noticed him staring at her, and she realized he was waiting for a response. Locking eyes, she cleared her throat once again, "Well... I do not have a date for the ball..."
Why was her heart beating faster?
The room felt warmer, the feeling of eyes on them heavy— boring into them, So much for blending in, but she kept her eyes on him. Curiously enough, she found the gaze of his mismatched eyes to be... different; unable to place what the odd feeling was. "So there would be no reason for you to heckle anyone..."
She tilted her head, trying to think of what to say, still reeling from the unexpected invitation. Eventually, her voice grew in amusement, "you say you are the full package... it sounds to me like you have put much thought into this." coordinated colors? "When you said coordinated colors... did you mean as in attires that would go well together?" Looking at him for an answer, Nabi began to consider the invitation, curious to see what he had in mind— a smile played at the corners of her mouth. "Moderately good at the waltz? I assume you do not enjoy dancing then." Though it would be amusing to see how well he could dance.
Decisions Decisions...
To her surprise, she attempted a joke. "I will be expecting your best skills when it comes to snacks then, Mr. Athanatos..."
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@Aamon Athanatos
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14 Apr 2025, 00:57
Hearts, Hexes, and Hesitations
She didn’t say no.
She didn’t say no.
That was the first thing that hit him like a bludger to the chest, except not painful. Aamon could not tell if it was adrenaline, joy, or the two lemon fizz candies he had eaten earlier, but his whole body felt like a Quidditch snitch about to dart off into the sky.
The Athanatos heir's hands had been awkwardly hovering by his sides, shot up in what could only be described as an awkward celebratory wiggle. “You don’t have a date?” the Slytherin pre-teen echoed, probably too loud again, earning a few curious glances. His grin widened, he had the sort of smile that did not seem practiced. It was too big, far from the refined, barely there upward curve that most stoic purebloods maintained. “That’s fantastic. I mean..." his foot immediately flung itself into his mouth. "Not fantastic like, ‘wow, how did you not have one?’ I just mean, it is fantastic for me. Because. Um.” Aamon cleared his throat with an almost embarrassed noise. “I was going to ask you anyway. No matter what. Even if you were taken." That sounded creepy. Merlin. "I mean,not in a weird way... Like, not in a homewrecker kind of way. Unless the home deserved wrecking," Matt Campbell deserved. His mind flitted to the second-year asshole before he self-corrected to something more amicable. "Which… it doesn’t, of course. Probably.” It totally did.
The Athanatos' words tripped over each other like baby goats, but Aamon powered through with the enthusiasm of a puppy with a plan. He was more thoughtful than his expressions suggested. Than his words demonstrated. He had every opportunity afforded to him, like most affluent purebloods, but he hardly fit the mold. People probably assumed he read picture books, not that he was fluent in 4 languages besides English and none of them were pig latin.
In truth, Aamon had assumed Nabi was still with Matthew Campbell. He had stumbled upon the unlikely pairing during their trip to Beauxbatons when they shared a cabin. A belief that persisted until today. No, until now. She hadn’t mentioned Matthew, and honestly? She didn’t look like someone who had been just dragged around by moody relationship drama. That meant either Matthew had done something so dumb that Nabi did not miss him, which was very likely, or she had decided to drop him like a cursed chocolate frog.
Aamon liked the later version better.
Aamon didn’t say any of these thoughts out loud of course. But inside he was mentally striking Matthew’s name off Nabi's imaginary dance card and writing Aamon the Victorious in bright, metaphorical glitter.
When Nabi mentioned coordinated colors, a reinforcement of her affirmation, Aamon's whole face lit up. “Yes! Absolutely. Unless you hate that. In which case, we’ll just—uh, freestyle fashion. I’m not afraid of bold choices. You pick the color scheme, and I’ll make it work. I’ve survived a family brunch in full velvet. I can do anything.” He assured her. And while anything was an absolute lie, because he could do little, he had the means to buy whatever would bridge the gap. He was used to the foppish attire, the hats that were too large and the strange cuts his overly fashionable step mothers would insist on seeing him don.
Aamon leaned in, slightly conspiratorial. “For the record... I’ve had a lot of dance tutors. Like... a weird number.” Honestly, the weird part was him admitting that. But he was odd in a world where 'normal' had a wide berth. Je was trying to be impressive, but he came off as awkward.
The Slytherin preteen started ticking his instructors off on his fingers. “There was Madame Silks, who only spoke in ballroom metaphors." He recalled her describing Mathias' dance as resembling a pair of flobberworms glued together: wriggling with purpose, but no rhythm. "Professor Whirlwind taught me the ‘Wand-Spin Waltz,’ which I’m pretty sure was made up." It sadly was not. "I had a Goblin instructor once who tried to teach me the 'Tunnel Jig.'" But he was far too tall. "And oh! A Centaur named Tharun tried to get me into ceremonial hoofwork. It did not translate well to human legs.”
Aamon grinned, utterly unbothered. “But I promise I’m, like... reasonably competent at the basics." He shrugged as he listed off the best the 1920's had to offer, the wizarding world has had little progress in general over the next century. "The Waltz. The Foxtrot. The Spell-Step Samba.” He paused. as if remembering a funny story to tell at a later time. “...That one’s not actually sanctioned for school dances. Long story.”
When Nabi teased him about snacks, his hand landed over his heart with mock gravity. “You wound me, Miss Park. I am snack royalty. I bring baked goods that are so good that professors forget their lesson plans. I once smuggled four pumpkin pasties and a butterbeer inside a top hat during Charms.” Aamon certainly did not, but what harm was there embellishing just a little bit?
Aamon stood a little straighter then, mismatched eyes locking onto hers with the kind of sincerity that the universe had not yet broken but surely soon would. “But honestly... I’m really glad you said yes. Not just because of snacks or dancing—but because I wanted it to be you.”
Nabi's future ex husband was not going to stand there for too much longer, everyone was already staring and his confidence was a finite commodity. Being the center of attention in a scripted endeavor was commonplace, but he had really run through his script and the sum of his not particularly skillful improv. “Right, so—I’ll, uh… go… now. Let you eat. And think. And… chew.”
Aamon gave a double thumbs-up, instantly regretting it before he awkwardly switched to a wave and then forgot what to do with his hands entirely. Eventually, he settled for saluting with the wrong hand and backing into a bench. “I’ll… see you at the ball. Or… before that. Or now. Wait, not now—bye!” Aamon then turned and walked straight into a suit of armor that wasn’t even near their table.
She didn’t say no.
That was the first thing that hit him like a bludger to the chest, except not painful. Aamon could not tell if it was adrenaline, joy, or the two lemon fizz candies he had eaten earlier, but his whole body felt like a Quidditch snitch about to dart off into the sky.
The Athanatos heir's hands had been awkwardly hovering by his sides, shot up in what could only be described as an awkward celebratory wiggle. “You don’t have a date?” the Slytherin pre-teen echoed, probably too loud again, earning a few curious glances. His grin widened, he had the sort of smile that did not seem practiced. It was too big, far from the refined, barely there upward curve that most stoic purebloods maintained. “That’s fantastic. I mean..." his foot immediately flung itself into his mouth. "Not fantastic like, ‘wow, how did you not have one?’ I just mean, it is fantastic for me. Because. Um.” Aamon cleared his throat with an almost embarrassed noise. “I was going to ask you anyway. No matter what. Even if you were taken." That sounded creepy. Merlin. "I mean,not in a weird way... Like, not in a homewrecker kind of way. Unless the home deserved wrecking," Matt Campbell deserved. His mind flitted to the second-year asshole before he self-corrected to something more amicable. "Which… it doesn’t, of course. Probably.” It totally did.
The Athanatos' words tripped over each other like baby goats, but Aamon powered through with the enthusiasm of a puppy with a plan. He was more thoughtful than his expressions suggested. Than his words demonstrated. He had every opportunity afforded to him, like most affluent purebloods, but he hardly fit the mold. People probably assumed he read picture books, not that he was fluent in 4 languages besides English and none of them were pig latin.
In truth, Aamon had assumed Nabi was still with Matthew Campbell. He had stumbled upon the unlikely pairing during their trip to Beauxbatons when they shared a cabin. A belief that persisted until today. No, until now. She hadn’t mentioned Matthew, and honestly? She didn’t look like someone who had been just dragged around by moody relationship drama. That meant either Matthew had done something so dumb that Nabi did not miss him, which was very likely, or she had decided to drop him like a cursed chocolate frog.
Aamon liked the later version better.
Aamon didn’t say any of these thoughts out loud of course. But inside he was mentally striking Matthew’s name off Nabi's imaginary dance card and writing Aamon the Victorious in bright, metaphorical glitter.
When Nabi mentioned coordinated colors, a reinforcement of her affirmation, Aamon's whole face lit up. “Yes! Absolutely. Unless you hate that. In which case, we’ll just—uh, freestyle fashion. I’m not afraid of bold choices. You pick the color scheme, and I’ll make it work. I’ve survived a family brunch in full velvet. I can do anything.” He assured her. And while anything was an absolute lie, because he could do little, he had the means to buy whatever would bridge the gap. He was used to the foppish attire, the hats that were too large and the strange cuts his overly fashionable step mothers would insist on seeing him don.
Aamon leaned in, slightly conspiratorial. “For the record... I’ve had a lot of dance tutors. Like... a weird number.” Honestly, the weird part was him admitting that. But he was odd in a world where 'normal' had a wide berth. Je was trying to be impressive, but he came off as awkward.
The Slytherin preteen started ticking his instructors off on his fingers. “There was Madame Silks, who only spoke in ballroom metaphors." He recalled her describing Mathias' dance as resembling a pair of flobberworms glued together: wriggling with purpose, but no rhythm. "Professor Whirlwind taught me the ‘Wand-Spin Waltz,’ which I’m pretty sure was made up." It sadly was not. "I had a Goblin instructor once who tried to teach me the 'Tunnel Jig.'" But he was far too tall. "And oh! A Centaur named Tharun tried to get me into ceremonial hoofwork. It did not translate well to human legs.”
Aamon grinned, utterly unbothered. “But I promise I’m, like... reasonably competent at the basics." He shrugged as he listed off the best the 1920's had to offer, the wizarding world has had little progress in general over the next century. "The Waltz. The Foxtrot. The Spell-Step Samba.” He paused. as if remembering a funny story to tell at a later time. “...That one’s not actually sanctioned for school dances. Long story.”
When Nabi teased him about snacks, his hand landed over his heart with mock gravity. “You wound me, Miss Park. I am snack royalty. I bring baked goods that are so good that professors forget their lesson plans. I once smuggled four pumpkin pasties and a butterbeer inside a top hat during Charms.” Aamon certainly did not, but what harm was there embellishing just a little bit?
Aamon stood a little straighter then, mismatched eyes locking onto hers with the kind of sincerity that the universe had not yet broken but surely soon would. “But honestly... I’m really glad you said yes. Not just because of snacks or dancing—but because I wanted it to be you.”
Nabi's future ex husband was not going to stand there for too much longer, everyone was already staring and his confidence was a finite commodity. Being the center of attention in a scripted endeavor was commonplace, but he had really run through his script and the sum of his not particularly skillful improv. “Right, so—I’ll, uh… go… now. Let you eat. And think. And… chew.”
Aamon gave a double thumbs-up, instantly regretting it before he awkwardly switched to a wave and then forgot what to do with his hands entirely. Eventually, he settled for saluting with the wrong hand and backing into a bench. “I’ll… see you at the ball. Or… before that. Or now. Wait, not now—bye!” Aamon then turned and walked straight into a suit of armor that wasn’t even near their table.
[Topic Left]
iNPC: Taylor Athanatos
14 Apr 2025, 09:08
Hearts, Hexes, and Hesitations
Banner by Miss Mellani Miller
Date: 2025.03.27 xxxxxxxx |
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Note: Thoughts, Speech, Aamon |
He reminds me of something...
Nabi had been looking at Aamon, his every reaction as her words seemed to sink into his thick skull. Aamon's hands were flaring like a madman attempting to scare off a bear, then it hit her, a worm! he reminds me of a worm... She hummed softly in amusement; his echo of her statement made her eyes narrow slightly, feeling the gaze of the students around them.
Does he need to repeat what he heard to process it?
She gave a small nod, as if he needed a visual answer to fully process what he had heard moments before his worm-like celebration. Figuring he finally understood by the way his grin widened, "That’s fantastic. I mean..." She tilted her head slightly, her eyebrow raising slightly, oh do choose your next words carefully... Nabi had begun to believe from their interactions that the young Aamon did not seem to think before he spoke.
Perhaps an endearing trait...
A blessing for her and a curse for him.
The young Athanatos began to explain himself, and a mildly sheepish noise emitted from him while he cleared his throat, caused her to crack a smile. Part of her enjoyed watching how he reacted; his limitation to common sense was like watching a fawn attempt to stand up for the first time. "I was going to ask you anyway. No matter what. Even if you were taken." Her eyebrow raised at his statement. Was it odd of him to say that? Yes. But then again, Aamon Athanatos was one of the strangest people she had met.
And his strangeness intrigued her, pulling her in as if there were an invisible thread he tugged toward him.
Her eyes widened slightly; Nabi's heart skipped a beat. What? What home deserved wrecking?.... oh. She recalled his baseless assumption that the young Campbell was her... boyfriend. Nabi hummed softly, wait- does he still think that Mr. Campbell and I are an item?
She sighed internally, her mouth opening to remind him of his error when he spoke. Excitement etched over his face as he confirmed her thoughts on what he meant when he said coordinated colors. A small smile appeared on her face, full velvet? Merlin... I wonder what color the attire was... Nabi was about to ask him who in their right mind thought it would be a good choice to wear full velvet to a brunch when he suddenly leaned in as his voice took a slight conspirital tone. "For the record... I’ve had a lot of dance tutors. Like... a weird number." Nabi hummed softly in response, a small laugh threatened to escape her, an odd number? Surely you are being overdramatic... Her parents ensured she was taught various forms of dancing to avoid tainting the family name at any balls or gatherings her parents held or attended, so the idea of there being an odd number of tutors did not cross her mind.
She took a sip of her water as she listened to Aamon begin to list off some of his dance tutors, placing her cup down calmly, Only speaking in ballroom metaphors? I suppose that can be daunting... Madam Silks...
Silk...
Her eyes never left him as she continued to listen, a small laugh leaving her as she thought of Aamon attempting to learn all those dances. Goodness... those are quite the peculiar dances... why did you get taught the ceremonial hoofwork? He most certainly had two legs instead of four. Nabi's expression smoothed, looking at him as he grinned like a complete fool, unbothered while he promised her he was reasonably well-versed on the ballroom basics. Her lips curled slightly, watching him list the dance styles even she knew by the age of seven. Samba, caught her attention as she raised an eyebrow, noticing him think of something. A long story? hm... perhaps I should ask him at the ball...
Her food was long forgotten as she watched Aamon place his hand over his heart, a small chuckle leaving her as he pretended to be hurt by her tease. Nabi had never heard him refer to her as 'Miss Park', but it made her smile softly, nevertheless. Her eyebrow raised as Aamon called himself snack royalty, and she gave a soft, amused hum. Well now I am most certainly putting your alleged skills to the test... her eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief.
His story of sneaking sweets into his charms class using a top hat sounded almost too good to be true, yet she would not put it past him if he had done it. Butterbeer in a top hat does not seem to be a good idea...
Nabi tilted her head up as Aamon straightened up, her gray eyes meeting his mismatched eyes, a sincerity that made her place her hands back on the table. Her soft expression further smoothed; something within her felt different. Her usual cold eyes displayed a flicker of warmth before she looked down. The students around them were still watching, and she looked back up as he began to talk once again. Clearing her throat, she nodded softly, a faint pink hue appearing on her face. "yes...", what is wrong with me?, "I should get back to my dinner..."
A smile began to play at her lips as he gave an awkward thumbs up, oh goodness... she fancied a fool. The wave and awkward uncertainty of what else to do caused her to bite her lip to avoid laughing— though her attempt would be futile as soon as Aamon saluted with the wrong hand and proceeded to bump into the bench behind him as a small snort escaped her.
Her hand gently moved to her face as she covered her mouth, composing herself. She uncovered her mouth and nodded softly, "We can meet at the ball...", If he manages to avoid bumping into a wall on his way there... Her thought was solidified as she watched Aamon walk into an armored suit on his way out. Nabi let out a soft giggle and shook her head, or armored suits.
Glancing down, she looked at the cold food on her plate. Her fingers playing with the silverware as she hummed in thought, pondering on their conversation, Baby blue sounds like a good choice for coordinated attires... She remembered her mother's critique when Nabi once wanted a specific pair of gloves.
Fabric plays a major part in how the color will appear.
A small smile appeared on her face as she tapped her finger on the table, Baby blue always appears best ink silk... Nabi nodded, agreeing with herself before she took a sip of water.
I wonder how he would look in silk...
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@Aamon Athanatos
End of thread
End of thread
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