samahl | IC Contact (for duplicitylog)

From:

[ he definitely sends trevor a slightly incoherent message about meeting an elf so that the young man doesn't wonder where he is, then shoots cyril a text to sort out the place and time. he chooses a café near one of the smaller city parks, figuring it's a neutral enough place-- and since he's without his dominant in a public place like this, he has a scarf looped around his throat to mask the color of his mark. there's not much he can do about it if someone asks to see it, but thus far, since he's waited politely out of the way and with the meekest expression he can force himself to make, people have left him alone other than the usual interested glances he gets.

and no wonder, really-- he's done nothing else to hide what he is. in person, he's about four and a half feet tall and a little dainty, obviously designed to look pretty and harmless. around his left eye are a series of spiderweb cracks that reach nearly down to the corner of his mouth and nearly up to his hairline. it's the only obvious flaw in his appearance, though, and it's one he usually hides. not today, though-- today his hair's pinned back from his face with several pretty bobby pins, and he's dressed in a sweater that keeps slipping off his shoulder.

he kind of knows what to look for, but it's apparent when he spots cyril approaching, because his eyes go wide and delighted in his face, and he presses doll-like jointed fingers to his mouth in surprised pleasure.

oh. he's both exactly like and nothing like he was beginning to imagine. smaller than he'd expected (thanks to tolkien influence), and the tattoos on his face are unexpected. his ears, though.. holy shit, adorable. ]

Hi, [ he greets when the other man reaches him, hand dropping away from his mouth, smiling as he offers it out. if cyril takes it, it's small and cool to the touch and hard, obviously porcelain. it was also obviously made with care and careful attention to detail, from the meticulously painted nailbeds to the exact way each joint fits together. clearly, whoever made his last parts loved their job a lot. ] Um, sorry, just-- Well, I said I'd be embarrassing. [ sure, dragons and other magic mutations are fantastical, too, but they're a part of teddy's everyday life back home. elves are definitely not. ]

From:

samahl

[Cyril had worried he might not live up to expectations. His people were long past their glory days. He wasn't this tall, magic wielding, ancient being. He was short, had a missing arm that had been replaced by a prosthetic, and his magical ability was null.

Still, he is pleased when the response to his appearance is excitement. He shakes the hand and fights the urge to try an examine the fingers.]

I don't think you were embarrassing at all. [He says, and there's something comforting in his smile and voice.]

You know, I realized on my way here that we never exchanged names. My name is Cyril, of Clan Lavellan.

From:

balljoints

Not yet, at least, [ he says with a bright little laugh, pressing the other man's fingers before he releases them. ] Give me time, though.

[ at the comment, though, he blinks, then smiles helplessly. come to think of it, he's right. while the network gives them a certain amount of information, it's not an introduction. ]

It's nice to officially meet you, Cyril. I'm Theodore Bell, but everyone calls me Teddy. [ at nearly eighty, he's more accustomed to his nickname than his full name. he's not even sure he'd reliably answer to it. ] Wanna' grab a coffee or something?

Irassal ma ghilas

IC Contact (for duplicitylog)

IC Contact (for duplicitylog)