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Leaning forward, Evelyn unstraps her heels, slipping them off and leaving her manicured toes bare for a few minutes.

<With me?> he suggests, watching her remove her shoes. And then, on a more practical note, <Where your clothes?>

"My, you have such a pretty way with words..." her fingers ran over her own jaw, her throat, down her chest, as if carving out a hidden pathway for Ankha's lips, slow, intentional.

The massage had her sighing, rolling her ankles. Sinking into the relaxing pleasure of it, Leila let her head rest back against the headrest of her seat. A sound not too far from a moan leaving her lips.

As she was sure Leila intended. But where was the harm, when they both seemed to want the same thing?

Ankha cradled Leila's foot against her chest as her fingers smoothed over the delicate skin of her ankle, thumbs pressing into her heel as Ankha's head dipped in faux-abashed pleasure, a sly grin nonetheless lighting her features as she looked up at Leila.

Although, this structured top might be a hassle.

He likes helping her with stuff like this. And yeah, part of that might just be that he gets to touch her in a simple, practical way, without it being such a big deal as it can tend to feel. Also, he gets to see her tits.

it really isn't really a brainer why she knows how to sign. she's had a crush, an obsession, in high school who was completely deaf in right ear and partially in left ear. preferred sign language. so in case nell would ever kidnap her, she's learnt to sign.

quite a simple explanation. she doesn't get into it with fel, yet. but if he asks ... it would be rude to withdraw the truth.

as it is, fel is busy flashing her a stupid, way-too-proud grin at the compliment to his car. it is nice. it's pretty awesome, actually. and he's pleased that this nell character has the good taste to realise it.

<fel,> he spells out in return, before unlocking the car and stepping around to the driver's side. he slides in, waiting until she's settled in the passenger seat before he continues - namely by opening maps on his phone and holding it out to her. <directions.>

Not that Tate would ever try to leave a mark on her - not like that, and she'd hardly allow him the freedom to do it any other way - but it's still interesting to know.

"Is that why they're a different colour?" A pause, before a hasty follow up. "I mean - I always thought it was maybe like vitiligo or something."

Which sounds dumb, now that he says it out loud. Tate knows that she has abilities - he's not that obtuse - but even then he doesn't really understand the extent of them.

"One must assume. The different material is simply differently coloured, no?"

It is something she has been curious about, as with much of the rest of herself, but it has been a very long time since she particularly thought about it. It is simply a fact of herself, a fact.

She doesn't think his assumption is dumb, personally. It seems like a reasonable enough conclusion to jump to, in the absence of other information.

"I am content to walk long distances," she answers. "Or I simply create a door. It is not difficult, when one knows the way of it."

"Of course. I trust you to help me." A sly grin pointed up towards the other. "And not push me into a bush."

After all, if it was flat grass she probably would have been okay, but a hill is another thing entirely.

If Evelyn wants to go in a bush, who is Ankha to stop her?

They continue on the flat until they come to a gate that leads into a field that looks much like the others, but at this one, Ankha stops. She opens the gate, lets Evelyn get herself over the first bit, and then closes it behind them. From there the grass slopes sharply upward and is none too flat, so she takes up position behind Evelyn to push.

she's been watching too much romance lately.

their question makes her physically recoil. " ew, don't say things like that. no one really likes men. " tedi fakes a shiver, grimacing as if cross kicked dirt into her food.

they're pretty sure that plenty of people do like men. like, actually likes them. cross is all ready to argue the point when it is superseded by another consideration, and they say instead:

" why would you fuck someone you don't like? "

Not that they were exclusive - Tisi had her own lovers, just as Demi did when they weren't together, but it would be curious if Rosie was her type. Maybe Tisi would simply watch.

"I suppose there is only one way to find out, hmm?" It would be interesting. Rosie didn't have the same trust in Tisiphone that she had in Demi, but she did trust Demi to keep things under control in line with Rosie's needs - it sort of ended up the same in the end. It also said quite a lot about how much she does trust Demi, truthfully.

The sorceress' expression softens somewhat. Even if she cannot understand the exact relationship that the two of them have, she thinks that she can understand the feeling. The other half of my soul. Yes, she thinks she can understand that.

“it matters,” they grit out, “to me.”

it is not entirely a slight against zahrosa herself. very few people are allowed to meet oksana, and the guilt gnaws at them for keeping their daughter isolated the way they once were. gods willing, her curse will be dealt with by the time she is old enough to truly need socialization.

ulyana takes a shuddering breath, starts pacing their small room despite the weariness still clinging to their bones. “i am all she has. you know this. you hand me death in the form of an unassuming trinket and expect me to trust you when you say it will not come to that?" she has not yet earned their trust.

yes, she thinks that ulyana ought to simply trust her, despite the lack of reason, despite the fact she has not earned it. because she is right. because she ought to be trusted implicitly, logic be damned, caution flung to hell. of course, if she were in ulyana's position she wouldn't trust herself - she is far too paranoid, far too aware of what people are like - but, apparently, that doesn't factor into the equation.

"i understand that you do not." there is no offence there, at least, no resentment. "you will come to understand that you can trust me on many counts."

there are also many counts upon which it would be foolish to trust zahrosa. it's telling the difference in which lies the trick.

She pulls out her phone, navigating to her favourite album - one that she'd first heard on vinyl all those years ago, but was not nostalgic enough to keep a gramophone for.

"Ready!"