The Holocall, Part 1
Timeframe: Life Day, in the weeks following the Winter Gala
Sometime later, while Ivalyn was in the shower, Cecil came in after knocking of course, “Miss, there’s a Rik Perris for you.”
“Put it through!” She shouted over the steam and water, the smart mirror in the bathroom picked up the call and she answered, “Hello, Rik! I’m glad to see you’ve called, but you’ve caught me rather off guard. You see, I’m in the shower at the moment.”
When it was Cecil, rather than the woman he had been trying to reach that had answered his call, Rik was a bit taken aback. He hadn’t expected those anyone elses to include droids… but it was hardly a surprise. Rik chuckled softly, “I can see that,” and the vague shadow of her, behind the steam, burrowing into his imagination - that could give a man all sorts of ideas, “you could have let me leave a message, Ivalyn.” Nothing in his voice indicated that would have been preferable. “You could have called me back.”
A vague tease in an otherwise direct tone.
“No, it’s quite alright,” Ivalyn responded not having quite caught onto the tease just yet, but when it did she chuckled. “I wouldn’t want to leave you out to dry, so to speak.” The water stopped and the door swung open blocking the mirror. She grabbed a robe from the rack nearby and a towel. Moments later, she emerged with her robe tied around her waist and hair up in the towel. “I was just getting ready for supper, hope the holidays are treating you well?”
“Better than,” Rik confirmed. He glanced away from the screen, looking down the street, devoid of people as it always was on this day of the year, families all pulled together in their homes to celebrate. He wound back to looking at her through this distance half-a-moment later. “Just finished dinner, waiting on dessert. Figured I'd make good use of that time.”
Ivalyn let her hair down and began to tussle it dry, “I am happy you called, I was starting to think you wouldn’t.” Not that she would’ve blamed him, most men fled once they figured out where she came from and who she was. Not many were brave enough to mingle with the Snake’s daughter.
Rik shifted from one foot to the other, adjusting his feet in the sandals he'd quickly slipped on to get outside. Or perhaps in slight unease, given he’d made her wait for as long as he had. And other more perilous reasons that had everything to do with who they both were. “Won't lie--” he drew out, while watching her through video, “--you've given me a lot to think about,” he admitted, frankly; she had given him a great deal to ruminate on, directly and indirectly, “but I get the sense that shoe doesn't quite fit.” He went on to elaborate. “I think your name doesn't tell me everything about you, Miss Yvarro… any more than the colour of that suit I wore on Naboo says much about me.”
Ivalyn moved to grab a partition in the bathroom and set it behind her, and replied matter-of-factly, to Rik, “I am grateful that you are able to look past a family name.” A more appreciative tone could be heard when she went on, “and you’re right, it doesn’t.” She turned back toward the mirror and brushed out her hair, “so I believe we are on equal footing in that regard.”
But she’d agree that the blues did, in fact, look damn fine on him.
Rik continued on. “And I'd be kicking myself for a long time if I didn't take the chance to know you, see how far that intuition carries,” he leveled his gaze at her, freshly showered and not yet made up, different but no less alluring from the dolled up vision that he'd become enamoured with, within the space of less than an evening, a couple of weeks prior, “call me crazy, Ivalyn, but putting you out of my mind hasn't been that easy.”
She had stepped behind a partition and summoned Cecil to bring her clothing, whilst she listened to him. Ivalyn held an inner smirk as she slipped into her dress and spoke to Rik whilst Cecil aided her. “I suppose the feeling is quite mutual. Attempting to keep you off my mind hasn’t exactly been, as you said, easy,” she responded. “Although, I should tell you, it isn’t so much my name that sends most running the other way,” she cautiously added, “it’s my father, Djorn Bline.”
A fly in the ointment. Fathers would always be a roadblock, or a gate that needed oiling, and Rik would be no different in the same position, but Djorn Bline was another sort entirely. A bigger fly. “Maybe you'll tell me about him.” Bline wasn't an unknown quantity, a matter of record, but her perspective and feelings toward her father were. “One day.” Now was far from the time to be getting into talking about family in detail.
Sometime later, while Ivalyn was in the shower, Cecil came in after knocking of course, “Miss, there’s a Rik Perris for you.”
“Put it through!” She shouted over the steam and water, the smart mirror in the bathroom picked up the call and she answered, “Hello, Rik! I’m glad to see you’ve called, but you’ve caught me rather off guard. You see, I’m in the shower at the moment.”
When it was Cecil, rather than the woman he had been trying to reach that had answered his call, Rik was a bit taken aback. He hadn’t expected those anyone elses to include droids… but it was hardly a surprise. Rik chuckled softly, “I can see that,” and the vague shadow of her, behind the steam, burrowing into his imagination - that could give a man all sorts of ideas, “you could have let me leave a message, Ivalyn.” Nothing in his voice indicated that would have been preferable. “You could have called me back.”
A vague tease in an otherwise direct tone.
“No, it’s quite alright,” Ivalyn responded not having quite caught onto the tease just yet, but when it did she chuckled. “I wouldn’t want to leave you out to dry, so to speak.” The water stopped and the door swung open blocking the mirror. She grabbed a robe from the rack nearby and a towel. Moments later, she emerged with her robe tied around her waist and hair up in the towel. “I was just getting ready for supper, hope the holidays are treating you well?”
“Better than,” Rik confirmed. He glanced away from the screen, looking down the street, devoid of people as it always was on this day of the year, families all pulled together in their homes to celebrate. He wound back to looking at her through this distance half-a-moment later. “Just finished dinner, waiting on dessert. Figured I'd make good use of that time.”
Ivalyn let her hair down and began to tussle it dry, “I am happy you called, I was starting to think you wouldn’t.” Not that she would’ve blamed him, most men fled once they figured out where she came from and who she was. Not many were brave enough to mingle with the Snake’s daughter.
Rik shifted from one foot to the other, adjusting his feet in the sandals he'd quickly slipped on to get outside. Or perhaps in slight unease, given he’d made her wait for as long as he had. And other more perilous reasons that had everything to do with who they both were. “Won't lie--” he drew out, while watching her through video, “--you've given me a lot to think about,” he admitted, frankly; she had given him a great deal to ruminate on, directly and indirectly, “but I get the sense that shoe doesn't quite fit.” He went on to elaborate. “I think your name doesn't tell me everything about you, Miss Yvarro… any more than the colour of that suit I wore on Naboo says much about me.”
Ivalyn moved to grab a partition in the bathroom and set it behind her, and replied matter-of-factly, to Rik, “I am grateful that you are able to look past a family name.” A more appreciative tone could be heard when she went on, “and you’re right, it doesn’t.” She turned back toward the mirror and brushed out her hair, “so I believe we are on equal footing in that regard.”
But she’d agree that the blues did, in fact, look damn fine on him.
Rik continued on. “And I'd be kicking myself for a long time if I didn't take the chance to know you, see how far that intuition carries,” he leveled his gaze at her, freshly showered and not yet made up, different but no less alluring from the dolled up vision that he'd become enamoured with, within the space of less than an evening, a couple of weeks prior, “call me crazy, Ivalyn, but putting you out of my mind hasn't been that easy.”
She had stepped behind a partition and summoned Cecil to bring her clothing, whilst she listened to him. Ivalyn held an inner smirk as she slipped into her dress and spoke to Rik whilst Cecil aided her. “I suppose the feeling is quite mutual. Attempting to keep you off my mind hasn’t exactly been, as you said, easy,” she responded. “Although, I should tell you, it isn’t so much my name that sends most running the other way,” she cautiously added, “it’s my father, Djorn Bline.”
A fly in the ointment. Fathers would always be a roadblock, or a gate that needed oiling, and Rik would be no different in the same position, but Djorn Bline was another sort entirely. A bigger fly. “Maybe you'll tell me about him.” Bline wasn't an unknown quantity, a matter of record, but her perspective and feelings toward her father were. “One day.” Now was far from the time to be getting into talking about family in detail.
