sandandwater: (come hither)
ooc: written for [livejournal.com profile] fey_fire for the snuggle meme. Binding only if his mun wishes.

May 2008

Warm day, cool breeze and Rory brought her to Murphy’s farm. He said there was something he wanted to show Pippa. She knew from many of their chats over the last year or so (mostly between sets and after gigs, more recently from some of their dates) at Last Call that the Irishman sometimes worked on the farm, exercising horses and giving the occasional riding lesson. It was a lovely place a bit upstate, large pastures dotted with pretty trees, tall grasses and pretty wild flowers.

She was currently in one of those pastures, backed up against a split rail fence, laughing as a gray stallion snuffled and snorted against her midsection. It tickled and then she squealed as the beast had managed to work his nose against her bare skin, her shirt riding up over his long muzzle. “Ro, stop! Oh, my god…stop…I can’t breathe…tickles.”

The horse nickered, flicked his ears and gave his tail a swish to the left then right. He was laughing. She knew he was laughing. And she was helpless against the equine’s size and strength as he continued to nuzzle her. Pippa tried to push his massive head away then resorted to tugging on the forelock of his mane, not that either deterred the stallion. He had his pretty filly where he wanted her.

Right where he wanted her.

The stallion finally relented once tears began to run down her cheeks and she really did sound as if breathing were difficult. Pippa was still laughing though, giggling until the horse vanished in a flash of energy-white light and the face pressed to her belly was once more the familiar one belonging to Rory Stone, púca fairy. Her boyfriend. “Ro, you are…”

She didn’t get to finish her declaration because strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled the waitress down into the grass, tumbling her into a small heap alongside the much taller, lankier now-man. “…crazy,” she finished unnecessarily as Rory brushed long red locks of hair out of her face.

“A muirnin, my darlin’.” He murmured the words with a gentle smile, pressed a kiss to the side of her neck and proceeded to nuzzle her in much the same way he had in his stallion form. He even made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a nicker before clearing his throat. “Pretty Pippa, why did never tell me you could ride? All those times I’ve mentioned Murphy’s farm and not a word from you, why, sweet?”

She sighed and shifted, rearranging herself atop her lover to better cuddle with him. “You had your secrets and I had mine.”

And now, thanks to his foolish playing, Pippa also had several dandelions tucked into her hair.
sandandwater: (hot stuff)
Pippa may have spent part of Sunday afternoon with butterflies in her stomach over the prospect of spending the evening on a date with Rory Stone, lead singer of Breaker Street and currently the reason she loves her job at Last Call so much, but once she hits the glass studio and fires up the first oven she is calm as can be. The low roar of the fire, the pungent smell of basic elements being burned welcomes her, settles her nerves. She knows this place; this is her domain even more so than waiting tables at the intimate nightclub.

He’s going to meet her here and they’ll work on the promised present for his sister’s birthday. She’s actually looking forward to sharing some of this with him. Her version of magic. Pippa smiles as she takes off her jacket, strips off her jewelry and pulls her hair back into a ponytail. In jeans and a tank top she’s nearly ready to get to work, adding a kerchief over her red curls and tying it tightly. The cotton helps cut down on the inevitable sweat that beads her brow, runs into her eyes.

She opens a few windows for proper ventilation and sets up her workspace. With Rory she intends to do simple lampworking but until he gets here, she’s got something else in mind that she wants to try. Cork paddles, long metal pipes and pliers, jacks and files all line up across a long steel bench. Bucket of water by her feet and she’s ready to make her first gather in the melt.

By the time she hears the knock on the studio’s door, Pippa’s got her hands full. She’s cupped a hand around the mouth of the pipe and is blowing bubble in the molten glass on the other end. Satisfied with the size, she brings it to the steel bench, turns on the torch clamped at the side and begins the process of shaping it, rolling the pipe between her hands constantly. “Hi, Ro…”

She glances at him and smiles before turning her attention back to her work. “Want to give me a hand?”

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sandandwater

October 2009

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