( it's not that she's suspicious of him, but more that there's a curiosity for his relatively pleasant, easy-going behavior that has her gaze focused on him as he sits down. he moves like someone who is used to a battlefield, or perhaps a ballroom: someone that knows the precise ways to move their body, someone who is used to standing tall or walking tall or maybe just being tall in general. of course, compared to her, anyone is quite high in stature, but: combined with his clothes, she feels like she's starting to piece together a story for this stranger.
the distraction comes with the way he touches the board--and it shouldn't be a surprise, just as it shouldn't be anything particularly flashy, but her hands lift from the lap of her dress, pressing her palms together like it's something to marvel over. the pieces on his side flood with a beautiful blue, sliding around the squares on the board; it turns out she hadn't gotten them all back to where they belonged, but that doesn't seem to matter. ) How gorgeous...!
( what sort of color is it? the color of the deep ocean, perhaps, or a shimmering gemstone, hidden in the dust--it doesn't make her think of the sky, or the terrifying color of it, or even the blue-green shimmer of mako in the irises of those that she loved once. )
For me, then... ( carefully, her fingers pluck at one of the pieces from the corner of the board: it looks like the top of a castle, perhaps, like a tower illustrated from a storybook about princesses and terrible magicians, and as she touches it, the white flickers through with pale pink striping, curling around the piece like a ribbon. when she sets it back down on the board, the rest of her pieces follow suit; they look like candy, all wrapped up neatly in the same pink of the bow in her hair. ) Perfect! This should be fine.
( amused, her gaze flickers up to the stranger--with one hand, she gestures across the board, both casual and playful. )
I think I'll let you start. I don't want to be too much of a pro and scare you, and it's kinder for the guest to let their host take the lead. ( there's a faint smile, in case it isn't obvious that her confidence, while strong, is gentle in nature, not the sort that will get upset about being proven wrong. )
no subject
the distraction comes with the way he touches the board--and it shouldn't be a surprise, just as it shouldn't be anything particularly flashy, but her hands lift from the lap of her dress, pressing her palms together like it's something to marvel over. the pieces on his side flood with a beautiful blue, sliding around the squares on the board; it turns out she hadn't gotten them all back to where they belonged, but that doesn't seem to matter. ) How gorgeous...!
( what sort of color is it? the color of the deep ocean, perhaps, or a shimmering gemstone, hidden in the dust--it doesn't make her think of the sky, or the terrifying color of it, or even the blue-green shimmer of mako in the irises of those that she loved once. )
For me, then... ( carefully, her fingers pluck at one of the pieces from the corner of the board: it looks like the top of a castle, perhaps, like a tower illustrated from a storybook about princesses and terrible magicians, and as she touches it, the white flickers through with pale pink striping, curling around the piece like a ribbon. when she sets it back down on the board, the rest of her pieces follow suit; they look like candy, all wrapped up neatly in the same pink of the bow in her hair. ) Perfect! This should be fine.
( amused, her gaze flickers up to the stranger--with one hand, she gestures across the board, both casual and playful. )
I think I'll let you start. I don't want to be too much of a pro and scare you, and it's kinder for the guest to let their host take the lead. ( there's a faint smile, in case it isn't obvious that her confidence, while strong, is gentle in nature, not the sort that will get upset about being proven wrong. )