[There is, on the floor of Sirius' room, a box. It's made of paper but it clearly had a lid, and inside is a rock, a twig, and a riddle; unlinked words that make no real sense. There is also a time (so this challenge is to be done in an hour) and a signature that is all numbers.
If he unfolds the origami box, there is a map, but it's oddly topographical, which is where the rock and the twig come in handy. There are numbers on the map, too, which may correspond to the words in the riddle.
It is the most elusive invitation to come find her she's written. The map leads to a place high up in the Gardens.]
[Sirius might profess to laziness. He might even embody it from time to time. But when the chips are down, he generally rises to the occasion, as long as the occasion is something he's interested in.
And it just so happens that maps and riddles are two things that he is very interested in. So here he is, in the gardens, trekking around with the map in front of him, rock and twig stored safely in his pocket. It's not yet been an hour. He's better at this than someone might initially think. Even if he's not located her yet, he will.
And he knows the identity of that her, thanks. The writer of the numbers. Who else could it be?]
[She sees him from her vantage point at the top of a rock, where she can almost pretend like she's warm from sunshine and not just fake UV light. She takes a moment, kicks her feel, and throws a little pebble; it hits him on the shoulder.
She's wearing her school uniform, only without the coat, her sleeves rolled up, and her tie loose. She almost never wears this, it's like her private joke, but she figures she's 19 now, and besides, it's the only outfit she has that isn't totally worn down. The skirt is a little shorter than it was three years ago; she must have grown a couple of inches, but it's not obscene. Just a little teasing, maybe.
She waves a bit. She knew he could figure it out.]
[The pebble hits him lightly, and he looks up with sharp focus, sort of like a dog--and then grins when he sees her. Good enough; he starts to fold up the map.]
[She gives him a slight look, like, duh, she can't reply, but then she looks as prim as she can and takes her shoes off, sets them down next to her, then slides one of her knee high socks off, and throws it so it lands on his head.
And she leans back on the rock. She looks very pleased with herself,]
[Well, no, she can't reply--except tossing a stocking down on his head is sort of a reply, isn't it. Certainly it's the reply that he wants, even if he didn't know it until she gave it.
With a grin, he grabs the stocking off of his head.]
[She considers it, and takes her other stocking off, and tosses that - but only after she climbs up a bit, to a spot a little higher, where it's harder for him to see her. The answer, then, might be, sure, but you might not see it.]
[A little put out, he grabs her other stocking off of the ground, squinting up at her with wounded incredulity. But fine, if that's the way she's going to play--he shoves both stockings into the pocket of his jeans and starts to climb up after her.]
There was nothing about climbing in your little riddle, y'know--you're lucky I just love climbing--
[She moves round the rock, so she's just on the other side, sitting, waiting for him. When he comes nearer, she wrinkles her nose up at him, and hands him her underwear.
So he can just think about that, for a little while.]
He was reaching to accept that bit of clothing before he realises what it is--and then he grins again, right away, no more protests. And accepts that bit of clothing.]
I take it back. Best answer to a riddle ever.
[Her pants stowed in his other pocket, for later (? maybe), he reaches out to pull her to her feet.]
What, and make it harder? It's quite hard already, thanks--
[Double entendre there, but he moves in to kiss her rather than elaborate on that thought, stepping in close to put his mouth against hers, all eager and hungry. It rather ruins her little smile, which is sort of a shame--it's a cute smile--but he doesn't have that many regrets about it.]
[She makes a face that ruins that smile at the double entendre, but he probably doesn't quite catch it, because now they're kissing, and she moves both her hands into his now-shortish hair.
She actually likes it.
So when she moves back a little, she takes his hand again.]
[Being cut off from kissing isn't exactly welcome--she's a really good kisser, which he never exactly forgets but is, nevertheless, always pleased to be reminded. He squeezes her hand back, with no particular meaning at all except a general handsqueeze, and leans in to kiss her, once, quickly.]
You could do another one, if you wanted. Not right now. But soon.
[You, i.e., Sera, who features prominently in these other ideas. She's still stood on her feet, so it's easy to loop his arms around her waist and tug her in closer, to kiss her again, lingering.]
[Well. That ruins the mood. Sirius grimaces, a little, as his eyes roll up to consider-- well. What little he can see of his hair. Which isn't much, 'cos it's so bloody short.]
[Which he says somewhat heavily, begrudging the prompting to get over it and move on. Granted, it's difficult to be fully begrudging when there's such a lovely ear-nipping incentive. But still.]
[She looks at him for a long moment one eyebrow nice and high, and then she puts her mouth on his neck, and nips, and gets to work making a very prominent mark.
This is the second time that Sirius has had that exact same thought in the last twenty minutes or so. He is happy to be having that thought again. The slump of his shoulders is a sing of just how spine-melty a feeling all this is.
And he pretty much shuts up then too, no conversation, either verbal or hand-squeezed--though he's capable of still conveying feeling and emotion via his hands, and he proves that as he goes for the front of her shirt, slipping the buttons open one-handed. Very dexterous, especially considering where his mind already is.]
[She moves her fingers to tug at her tie, still licking the spot that'll be bright purple in no time at all, and then moves back a little, so she can slip it off -
And she hands that to him, too.
Maybe this is part of her game, too. All her clothes get handed off to him, and he can decide what to do with them.
[He grins, vaguely--head tipped away a little to give her the space to work--but he's undressed enough girls wearing school neckties to know what this is in his hand without looking down. He twists to loop the tie around his neck and shoulders instead. It hangs quite short on him.
Free of the burden of her tie, he slips his hand down to push her shirt open. If this is a game, it's a good one.]
[Her shirt falls open, and she untucks it, so he can see a swath of skin from her neck to her skirt, only broken by the material of her bra, soft and just this side of pink.
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If he unfolds the origami box, there is a map, but it's oddly topographical, which is where the rock and the twig come in handy. There are numbers on the map, too, which may correspond to the words in the riddle.
It is the most elusive invitation to come find her she's written. The map leads to a place high up in the Gardens.]
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And it just so happens that maps and riddles are two things that he is very interested in. So here he is, in the gardens, trekking around with the map in front of him, rock and twig stored safely in his pocket. It's not yet been an hour. He's better at this than someone might initially think. Even if he's not located her yet, he will.
And he knows the identity of that her, thanks. The writer of the numbers. Who else could it be?]
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She's wearing her school uniform, only without the coat, her sleeves rolled up, and her tie loose. She almost never wears this, it's like her private joke, but she figures she's 19 now, and besides, it's the only outfit she has that isn't totally worn down. The skirt is a little shorter than it was three years ago; she must have grown a couple of inches, but it's not obscene. Just a little teasing, maybe.
She waves a bit. She knew he could figure it out.]
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What're you doing all the way up there!
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And she leans back on the rock. She looks very pleased with herself,]
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With a grin, he grabs the stocking off of his head.]
D'you take off more the longer that I stand here?
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[A little put out, he grabs her other stocking off of the ground, squinting up at her with wounded incredulity. But fine, if that's the way she's going to play--he shoves both stockings into the pocket of his jeans and starts to climb up after her.]
There was nothing about climbing in your little riddle, y'know--you're lucky I just love climbing--
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So he can just think about that, for a little while.]
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Well.
He was reaching to accept that bit of clothing before he realises what it is--and then he grins again, right away, no more protests. And accepts that bit of clothing.]
I take it back. Best answer to a riddle ever.
[Her pants stowed in his other pocket, for later (? maybe), he reaches out to pull her to her feet.]
C'mere--
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I'll have to up my game, for next time.
[And she's smiling, just a quirk of her mouth, pleased.]
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[Double entendre there, but he moves in to kiss her rather than elaborate on that thought, stepping in close to put his mouth against hers, all eager and hungry. It rather ruins her little smile, which is sort of a shame--it's a cute smile--but he doesn't have that many regrets about it.]
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She actually likes it.
So when she moves back a little, she takes his hand again.]
Was it clever enough for you?
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[Being cut off from kissing isn't exactly welcome--she's a really good kisser, which he never exactly forgets but is, nevertheless, always pleased to be reminded. He squeezes her hand back, with no particular meaning at all except a general handsqueeze, and leans in to kiss her, once, quickly.]
You could do another one, if you wanted. Not right now. But soon.
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Maybe that's how I'll let you know every time I want to see you. A map and a riddle and a puzzle.
[For it to be really difficult he would have to learn some high-level math, but she likes these, too, maps with lots of components.]
Right now, I think you have other ideas.
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A map and a riddle and a puzzle. And you.
[You, i.e., Sera, who features prominently in these other ideas. She's still stood on her feet, so it's easy to loop his arms around her waist and tug her in closer, to kiss her again, lingering.]
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The kiss is longer, now, because Sera draws it out, because she's pressing against him, because she wants to press against him.
And she nips his bottom lip and tugs, and grins when she pulls away, just a little.]
I like your hair short like this.
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Really.
[when does the kissing start again]
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And it'll grow back.
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[Which he says somewhat heavily, begrudging the prompting to get over it and move on. Granted, it's difficult to be fully begrudging when there's such a lovely ear-nipping incentive. But still.]
But now my neck gets cold.
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She's too distracted to keep talking.]
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Well.
This is the second time that Sirius has had that exact same thought in the last twenty minutes or so. He is happy to be having that thought again. The slump of his shoulders is a sing of just how spine-melty a feeling all this is.
And he pretty much shuts up then too, no conversation, either verbal or hand-squeezed--though he's capable of still conveying feeling and emotion via his hands, and he proves that as he goes for the front of her shirt, slipping the buttons open one-handed. Very dexterous, especially considering where his mind already is.]
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And she hands that to him, too.
Maybe this is part of her game, too. All her clothes get handed off to him, and he can decide what to do with them.
It's a little bit dangerous.]
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Free of the burden of her tie, he slips his hand down to push her shirt open. If this is a game, it's a good one.]
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She looks at him for a minute-]
Look, or touch?
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