Post by Sky Blue on Aug 20, 2012 14:24:46 GMT -5
Museums. Something Gilda has had very little experience with in a respectful capacity. The rough-edged catbird is visibly anxious as soon as she approaches the Canterlot museum - with its lofty, vaulted architecture, gleaming with marble and crystal and all kinds of other stuff she can't afford. Museums are a place where you have to be quiet and are respected for being knowledgeable about art and literature and history. She feels like a midget here, her wings carefully folded at her sides. "Man, this place is full of dweebs..." she remarks quietly as they pass from a room of abstract sculptures into the featured exhibit.
"Don't be so uptight," Chessa replies in a gentle manner, a smile on her beak as she unfurls her left wing and drapes it across Gilda's toned, athletic back. "Look, they have some Monet and Van Gogh stuff," she adds, gesturing out towards a small line of very expensive-looking paintings, before pointing to the other side of the room and adding, "And some Waterhouse."
Gilda nudges a little closer to Chessa as the other griffon's wing lays comfortingly around her back, feeling the same mixture of allure and trepidation she usually gets from being around the businessgriffon. It's hard not to just let herself go, lean fully against Chessa, and coo delightedly - but Gilda's too far out of her social element to feel comfortable doing much at the moment, even if it's what she really wants. Her eyes just keep roving the walls upon walls of artwork, all by painters she's never heard of, from time periods whose names she's utterly unfamiliar with. An artist, Gilda is, in secret. An art student, she is not, neither in public nor in private. "I ain't uptight," she insists. "I never heard of any of these ponies before. I never been comfortable in really upscale places. I usually start some shit and get thrown out, if they even let me in in the first place."
"Would you prefer it if we left, Gildy, had an early dinner, and then... I don't know, relaxed in the park?" the businesssgriffon asks, tilting her head and neatly-sharpened towards Gilda, her smile still gentle, a certain warmth in her eyes as she wraps her wing a little more firmly around Chessa, drawing a few mutters and the odd tut from nearby aristocrats.
Gilda eyes the disapproving crowd - sparse and passive as they are, being the Polite Elite - now this, she's familiar with. "Ugh. If a dollar fell out of those rich ponies' pockets every time they gave me that look, I'd almost be rich enough to get into their clubs," she remarks bitterly. Softening, she gives in to one of several inclinations and leans herself gently against Chessa's side, tilting her head. "I dunno... I mean, so this isn't my scene. I don't wanna drag you off from it, you sounded like you really wanted to see this exhibit." She looks down at the tiled floor, clacking her talons against it, then back up at Chessa. "I feel kinda dumb saying this, but like, I don't think I appreciate this stuff on the level you do." She furrows her brow, looking cross at herself, and just barely resisting the impulse to utter something like 'as usual, dumbass flunky Gilda'.
"That's okay, Gildy..." Chessa softly replies, a soft blush rising in her cheeks as she feels the stunt flyer's body against her own, before bumping beaks with her. This draws a few disgusted looks from a nearby patrons, prompting her smile to fade and her eyes to narrow. She promptly shouts out, "Gay and proud!" before turning her head, pressing her beak up to Gilda's, and then parting hers in a firm, yet tender kiss. After several seconds, she breaks the kiss, announces haughtily, "Come on, Gilda; this place is full of dweebs," before, with one wing still firmly wrapped around the other griffon's side, storming out of the gallery.
Gilda cracks an uneasy smile as Chessa's beak contacts her own - her personal comfort zone officially breached, but by someone she actually wants it breached by. She feels suddenly more naked than usual, and a heat swells up in her body. Just as this sensation is overtaking her, Chessa pulls out the last stopper, and Gilda's body seizes up. Her eyes wide, her chest expanding with a sharp gasp of breath, claws splayed on the floor... and her beak parts to meet hers, her eyes sliding closed again. They're still closed when she pulls away, her mind reeling with the sensation of warmth, of the shared breath between herself and Chessa, the thrill, the vulnerability, the taste of her tongue. Her eyes remain closed, her face in a kind of blissful trance, until Chessa takes a line directly out of her own book and yanks her toward the exit. And then things just click. Her wings thoroughly unfurled, whether it's polite or not. Gilda adopts a confident smirk. "Yeah, screw these dorks!" she cries out, feeling strangely healed in a way she hasn't been since she stormed out of her Pinkie Party a few weeks ago. Following alongside Chessa, her posture now downright prideful, her hips swaying demonstratively, she eyes the offended art crowd with satisfaction, and reaches over to lightly pinch Chessa's taut leonine hindquarters on her way out the door. Her heart is fluttering like crazy.
At the pinch to her hindquarters, Chessa lets out an instinctive squawk, her face and chest feathers promptly puffing out like a Mardi Gras boa. It's only a short walk out of the art museum, by which point, the businessgriffon's plumage has settled down. "Dumb, bigoted snobs," she announces dismissively, pressing her side up against Gilda's as she walks. "Let's head to that Chinese place. They do GREAT chicken. After that, Canterlot park is real nice at night; all those dorks stay in, so we'd have the place to ourselves."
Gilda's cheeks heat up like coals as your plumage fluffs up, an amorous swoon overtaking her expression. She's taken - impressed, surprised even - by this defiant edge to you. This is the closest she's felt to you since meeting you. This is the closest she's felt to anyone since before her and Dash had a falling out. It's a scary feeling. Love is sparse and often painful in Gilda's life, and the last time she remembers having this feeling, it all went up in flames. But that kiss. You just took it, right there, in utter rebellion. It made her want to kiss you, more. She doesn't reply to you right away. Stunned, it seems, by what just happened. The athletic griffon meets eyes with you, then pads up, closing the gap between herself and you. Her eyelids are hooded, and her voice is husky and intimate. She can't seem to figure out what she wants to say - all these thoughts are jumbled up, it seems, at the front of her mind, blocking the exit to her beak. Finally, out comes, "You're pretty amazing, has anyone told you that lately?" It's only one of many such thoughts.
"I- uh... not really..." Chessa replies, an embarrassed, then a rather gentle expression upon her beak. It seems the comment completely shook her out of her irritation at the Canterlot snobs. "You're... heck, your freaking awesome, Gildy," she announces gently, her eyes bashfully shifting away as she starts to scuff one foreleg against her other. "And I'm not just saying that, it's just... I'd feel bad, hearing something that makes me feel so awesome from you, and not trying to return the favour..." the business griffon mumbles, her leonine tail swishing about behind her. "I mean, you're a skilled athlete, super cool, have a really nice plumage, are so tender, and you're really pretty, too."
For the first moment she can remember since meeting you, Gilda feels like she's the one who's most at ease. She feels herself falling into you, and there's no wings to carry her back up, just this free-falling feeling of wonder. Something new is starting, she can feel it, and it's so good it's shaken her mental world like an earthquake. Her personality in a jumble, so tongue-tied with you until now, she's just now starting to feel at ease with herself again. With an easy smile, she leans forwards, and truncates your last sentence at 'pretty' with a delicate kiss. The stunt flier griffon holds her beak against yours, softly, not demanding anything extra from you. When it breaks, it breaks softly, tapering off more than breaking. She takes in a few contented breaths, her beak still nuzzled against yours. "I never had anyone into me like you. You're, like... I would think you were so way out of my league. Like, you're educated, and principled, and .../driven/, and... I feel dumb trying to explain all this, like you'd totally say it better. I never had anyone into me that didn't think I was just a dumb bitchy dropout. And..." She turns her head towards the art museum door, "... What you did back there..." She huffs a breath through her nostrils, blinking heavily as her eyes steam up, bravely meeting them with yours. "D'you think, you and me...? Could..." She chokes on the words.
"Totally." With that single word, Chessa leans forward and presses her beak up against Gilda's once more, parting the athlete's beak, then, gently, slips her tongue into the other female's mouth. After a few moments, she breaks the kiss, smiling warmly at Gilda, and then throws her forelegs about her shoulders in a tight hug. "Come on," she announces contently, upon dropping back down to all fours, "I'm DYING for some noodles, duck pancakes, and chicken. I know they have cosy little corners for two."
Gilda melts utterly into your affection. Being near you is wonderful enough, but this surpasses it by far - her feathery chest cushioned against yours, neck and cheek entwined with yours. She lifts up on her hind legs, embracing you with her own broad forearms. Gods, is this how it feels? Another griffon, so perfectly suited for her own body. What had she been doing, suffering amidst ponies for so long? This... matched. This felt right. "I've... lived away from griffons most my life. When I'm around you, I don't feel like some foreign, strange thing. I don't feel like this bulky, chunky, muscular troll amidst beauties. I feel beautiful. I feel beautiful just how I am, for being what I am. Because /you're/ beautiful. And you are... what I am." This is easily, easily the most verbose and emotional Gilda has been at any point in the past some months. She feels her closely guarded, tender insides flowing out into the open, safe at last. Still, it's so much of herself to reveal, she gets a sudden urge to shut up and stop blabbering the moment. With a smile, and a raising of her posture, she says, "Heck yeah. That sounds primo." And the smile becomes a playful smirk. "Race ya there!" WOOSH. With a gust of wind, Gilda is skyward. She has flown so much, she has probably logged more hours in the air than on the ground at this point in her life. But, to see her now, you'd think it was the first time she ever soared.
Gilda
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"Don't be so uptight," Chessa replies in a gentle manner, a smile on her beak as she unfurls her left wing and drapes it across Gilda's toned, athletic back. "Look, they have some Monet and Van Gogh stuff," she adds, gesturing out towards a small line of very expensive-looking paintings, before pointing to the other side of the room and adding, "And some Waterhouse."
Chessa
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
As griffons go, Chessa is fairly run-of-the-mill. Her head and chest are covered with milky white feathers, ranging from the smooth and silky upon her face, to puffed out and voluminous across her front. Her wings likewise bear the same brilliant plumage, though the majority of the feathers look considerably more heavy-duty than the rest. While her forelegs bear the semblance of an eagle, bright yellow in colour, her hindlegs and, indeed, the whole rest of her body is that of a lion, covered in sandy brown fur. Lastly, but not least, she possesses a pair of bright blue eyes, set above her sharp, hooked yellow beak.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Gilda nudges a little closer to Chessa as the other griffon's wing lays comfortingly around her back, feeling the same mixture of allure and trepidation she usually gets from being around the businessgriffon. It's hard not to just let herself go, lean fully against Chessa, and coo delightedly - but Gilda's too far out of her social element to feel comfortable doing much at the moment, even if it's what she really wants. Her eyes just keep roving the walls upon walls of artwork, all by painters she's never heard of, from time periods whose names she's utterly unfamiliar with. An artist, Gilda is, in secret. An art student, she is not, neither in public nor in private. "I ain't uptight," she insists. "I never heard of any of these ponies before. I never been comfortable in really upscale places. I usually start some shit and get thrown out, if they even let me in in the first place."
"Would you prefer it if we left, Gildy, had an early dinner, and then... I don't know, relaxed in the park?" the businesssgriffon asks, tilting her head and neatly-sharpened towards Gilda, her smile still gentle, a certain warmth in her eyes as she wraps her wing a little more firmly around Chessa, drawing a few mutters and the odd tut from nearby aristocrats.
Gilda eyes the disapproving crowd - sparse and passive as they are, being the Polite Elite - now this, she's familiar with. "Ugh. If a dollar fell out of those rich ponies' pockets every time they gave me that look, I'd almost be rich enough to get into their clubs," she remarks bitterly. Softening, she gives in to one of several inclinations and leans herself gently against Chessa's side, tilting her head. "I dunno... I mean, so this isn't my scene. I don't wanna drag you off from it, you sounded like you really wanted to see this exhibit." She looks down at the tiled floor, clacking her talons against it, then back up at Chessa. "I feel kinda dumb saying this, but like, I don't think I appreciate this stuff on the level you do." She furrows her brow, looking cross at herself, and just barely resisting the impulse to utter something like 'as usual, dumbass flunky Gilda'.
"That's okay, Gildy..." Chessa softly replies, a soft blush rising in her cheeks as she feels the stunt flyer's body against her own, before bumping beaks with her. This draws a few disgusted looks from a nearby patrons, prompting her smile to fade and her eyes to narrow. She promptly shouts out, "Gay and proud!" before turning her head, pressing her beak up to Gilda's, and then parting hers in a firm, yet tender kiss. After several seconds, she breaks the kiss, announces haughtily, "Come on, Gilda; this place is full of dweebs," before, with one wing still firmly wrapped around the other griffon's side, storming out of the gallery.
Gilda cracks an uneasy smile as Chessa's beak contacts her own - her personal comfort zone officially breached, but by someone she actually wants it breached by. She feels suddenly more naked than usual, and a heat swells up in her body. Just as this sensation is overtaking her, Chessa pulls out the last stopper, and Gilda's body seizes up. Her eyes wide, her chest expanding with a sharp gasp of breath, claws splayed on the floor... and her beak parts to meet hers, her eyes sliding closed again. They're still closed when she pulls away, her mind reeling with the sensation of warmth, of the shared breath between herself and Chessa, the thrill, the vulnerability, the taste of her tongue. Her eyes remain closed, her face in a kind of blissful trance, until Chessa takes a line directly out of her own book and yanks her toward the exit. And then things just click. Her wings thoroughly unfurled, whether it's polite or not. Gilda adopts a confident smirk. "Yeah, screw these dorks!" she cries out, feeling strangely healed in a way she hasn't been since she stormed out of her Pinkie Party a few weeks ago. Following alongside Chessa, her posture now downright prideful, her hips swaying demonstratively, she eyes the offended art crowd with satisfaction, and reaches over to lightly pinch Chessa's taut leonine hindquarters on her way out the door. Her heart is fluttering like crazy.
At the pinch to her hindquarters, Chessa lets out an instinctive squawk, her face and chest feathers promptly puffing out like a Mardi Gras boa. It's only a short walk out of the art museum, by which point, the businessgriffon's plumage has settled down. "Dumb, bigoted snobs," she announces dismissively, pressing her side up against Gilda's as she walks. "Let's head to that Chinese place. They do GREAT chicken. After that, Canterlot park is real nice at night; all those dorks stay in, so we'd have the place to ourselves."
Gilda's cheeks heat up like coals as your plumage fluffs up, an amorous swoon overtaking her expression. She's taken - impressed, surprised even - by this defiant edge to you. This is the closest she's felt to you since meeting you. This is the closest she's felt to anyone since before her and Dash had a falling out. It's a scary feeling. Love is sparse and often painful in Gilda's life, and the last time she remembers having this feeling, it all went up in flames. But that kiss. You just took it, right there, in utter rebellion. It made her want to kiss you, more. She doesn't reply to you right away. Stunned, it seems, by what just happened. The athletic griffon meets eyes with you, then pads up, closing the gap between herself and you. Her eyelids are hooded, and her voice is husky and intimate. She can't seem to figure out what she wants to say - all these thoughts are jumbled up, it seems, at the front of her mind, blocking the exit to her beak. Finally, out comes, "You're pretty amazing, has anyone told you that lately?" It's only one of many such thoughts.
"I- uh... not really..." Chessa replies, an embarrassed, then a rather gentle expression upon her beak. It seems the comment completely shook her out of her irritation at the Canterlot snobs. "You're... heck, your freaking awesome, Gildy," she announces gently, her eyes bashfully shifting away as she starts to scuff one foreleg against her other. "And I'm not just saying that, it's just... I'd feel bad, hearing something that makes me feel so awesome from you, and not trying to return the favour..." the business griffon mumbles, her leonine tail swishing about behind her. "I mean, you're a skilled athlete, super cool, have a really nice plumage, are so tender, and you're really pretty, too."
For the first moment she can remember since meeting you, Gilda feels like she's the one who's most at ease. She feels herself falling into you, and there's no wings to carry her back up, just this free-falling feeling of wonder. Something new is starting, she can feel it, and it's so good it's shaken her mental world like an earthquake. Her personality in a jumble, so tongue-tied with you until now, she's just now starting to feel at ease with herself again. With an easy smile, she leans forwards, and truncates your last sentence at 'pretty' with a delicate kiss. The stunt flier griffon holds her beak against yours, softly, not demanding anything extra from you. When it breaks, it breaks softly, tapering off more than breaking. She takes in a few contented breaths, her beak still nuzzled against yours. "I never had anyone into me like you. You're, like... I would think you were so way out of my league. Like, you're educated, and principled, and .../driven/, and... I feel dumb trying to explain all this, like you'd totally say it better. I never had anyone into me that didn't think I was just a dumb bitchy dropout. And..." She turns her head towards the art museum door, "... What you did back there..." She huffs a breath through her nostrils, blinking heavily as her eyes steam up, bravely meeting them with yours. "D'you think, you and me...? Could..." She chokes on the words.
"Totally." With that single word, Chessa leans forward and presses her beak up against Gilda's once more, parting the athlete's beak, then, gently, slips her tongue into the other female's mouth. After a few moments, she breaks the kiss, smiling warmly at Gilda, and then throws her forelegs about her shoulders in a tight hug. "Come on," she announces contently, upon dropping back down to all fours, "I'm DYING for some noodles, duck pancakes, and chicken. I know they have cosy little corners for two."
Gilda melts utterly into your affection. Being near you is wonderful enough, but this surpasses it by far - her feathery chest cushioned against yours, neck and cheek entwined with yours. She lifts up on her hind legs, embracing you with her own broad forearms. Gods, is this how it feels? Another griffon, so perfectly suited for her own body. What had she been doing, suffering amidst ponies for so long? This... matched. This felt right. "I've... lived away from griffons most my life. When I'm around you, I don't feel like some foreign, strange thing. I don't feel like this bulky, chunky, muscular troll amidst beauties. I feel beautiful. I feel beautiful just how I am, for being what I am. Because /you're/ beautiful. And you are... what I am." This is easily, easily the most verbose and emotional Gilda has been at any point in the past some months. She feels her closely guarded, tender insides flowing out into the open, safe at last. Still, it's so much of herself to reveal, she gets a sudden urge to shut up and stop blabbering the moment. With a smile, and a raising of her posture, she says, "Heck yeah. That sounds primo." And the smile becomes a playful smirk. "Race ya there!" WOOSH. With a gust of wind, Gilda is skyward. She has flown so much, she has probably logged more hours in the air than on the ground at this point in her life. But, to see her now, you'd think it was the first time she ever soared.