[ it takes her all of four seconds to realize, and just a half-second before his full figure comes into view, now that her eyes have adjusted. rather vividly, she's brought back to her entrance into the faire, to the gnawing anxiety that had her rushing past excitable faire-goers and sellers, only to ultimately slam into another body walking opposite. seconds prior to that a staffer dressed as an elf selling painted roses had harped on about her "token," and marta, seeing nothing but a wall of a body standing before her, could think little else but a chance to finally rid herself of the handkerchief, as if that alone might finally grant her piece.
spoilers: it did not. but she hadn't had to think about it until just this very moment, where she is reminded of how impudent she'd been hastily stuffing the lace-trimmed cloth into the man's pocket.
heat prickles at her neck, at the freckles dotting her cheeks. she does not, thankfully, explode into a full on blush but the threat of it is there, almost tauntingly so. ]
It's Marta, [ she winds up saying, voice not so much as clipped as it is gently pruned around what would be the sharper edges of flat out embarrassment. downright breezy, in a space steadily reclaiming its dead and stale air now that the heavy door has swung itself back shut. (marta has never had such game, and so doesn't think to take note of this one detail for the worrying thing it is.) ]
If you were expecting someone else, I'll make it quick.
[ turning back on her heel, she scrambles for whatever it was that'd kept her grounded seconds ago, but remembers with a pang it'd been nothing more than a shot in the dark attempt to reach out to ears that might not even know to listen for her. least of all here, wherever the hell here is. and so, she flounders, perhaps obviously so. ]
no subject
spoilers: it did not. but she hadn't had to think about it until just this very moment, where she is reminded of how impudent she'd been hastily stuffing the lace-trimmed cloth into the man's pocket.
heat prickles at her neck, at the freckles dotting her cheeks. she does not, thankfully, explode into a full on blush but the threat of it is there, almost tauntingly so. ]
It's Marta, [ she winds up saying, voice not so much as clipped as it is gently pruned around what would be the sharper edges of flat out embarrassment. downright breezy, in a space steadily reclaiming its dead and stale air now that the heavy door has swung itself back shut. (marta has never had such game, and so doesn't think to take note of this one detail for the worrying thing it is.) ]
If you were expecting someone else, I'll make it quick.
[ turning back on her heel, she scrambles for whatever it was that'd kept her grounded seconds ago, but remembers with a pang it'd been nothing more than a shot in the dark attempt to reach out to ears that might not even know to listen for her. least of all here, wherever the hell here is. and so, she flounders, perhaps obviously so. ]