LOCATION & TIME → Eli Wentz Theatre, Performing Arts Building, Early Tuesday Morning
NOTES → I hope this wasn't too convoluted. // That awkward moment when you've had no time to process..
Very few people knew that Annika was originally an artist. It didn't take much to figure out that her love for her major hadn't stemmed from itself, and it explained her unpretentious approach to structure. The way she engaged with it was different than most of her peers. She had a childlike fascination with the way things worked together, with not only how things looked, but what they could be made to /do/ while still being aesthetically pleasing. Beneath that, though, she had a fundamental need to work with her hands. When she was stressed, when she was excited, when things needed sorting out, when things became too much to bear - this is when the woman of many pretty words shut her mouth.
Her background in visual art and a pair of intricately dexterous hands afforded her a welcome into the theatre's scene shop whenever she had the time to stop by. The morning after her encounter with Sydney, she'd pushed herself through an arduous sunrise conditioning session and decided to pay a visit to Roque's Performing Arts building. She'd been appointed Scenic Designer for Midsummer, and though the show wasn't up for another month, Annie had been anxious to see the space she'd be creating in. So she offered to help with the build and load in of whatever show was happening at the close of the Spring Semester.
They'd just broken for Brunch. Not in the mood for the company of...well, anyone, she'd hung back. Lingering in the wings, fiddling with a set of renderings she needed for her afternoon class. Annie slung the cylindrical tube containing her work across her back by its strap, taking the time to roll her eyes at her shop clothes - paint stained jeans and tank top,hair in a messy ponytail. Too tired to really care much, she'd descended the stairs in the left wing and was on her way out through the doors at the front of the house when she heard Sydney. Glancing up at the stage she'd just vacated, she confirmed her suspicions and slowed to a stop. There was no mistaking Sydney's voice for any other. That she'd second guessed this angel's voice was really more wishful thinking than anything. If it had been anyone else, she might have been able to leave.
Annie had almost forgotten what it was like to be in the same room with that voice. She felt like a Cobra,being coaxed out of a wicker basket. Annie lost track of time, feeling the swell of that misplaced sense of pride at the way Sydney wrapped herself around the ballad- prideful as though Sydney was hers, as though she had any claim to the woman from whence the music came. The song was unlike anything she'd ever heard her sing before, for reasons she pushed to her periphery. Finally, Annie noted how long she'd been standing in awe as the particular selection came to an end. She brought her hands together in soft applause, announcing her presence as she thought only fit after what she had just witnessed.
Here's what almost happened: Annie had almost forgotten that she was upset with Sydney, much less the specific reasons why. The flames dancing in her chocolate brown eyes when she spoke about her craft. The promise of an adventure skimming softly alongside the melodic tones of her voice - this had been Annie's undoing the first time. She wasn't certain, as she'd put it out of her mind rather forcibly, but she was sure that the time they'd kissed, it was like this. And here they were again. Somehow Sydney had managed to make the Architect feel as though she'd tied her hands. Like Sydney had missed the way that they were, and Annie was keeping her from flipping the proverbial switch to resume. Annie almost slid the wine flute from the other woman's grasp, if only to keep her own mind from distraction at the way her lips touched it. She would sit both the fragile glasses to the side and wrap the younger woman in her arms, pressing her lips into her hair to tell her in gentle words only they would understand that she was proud of her. Annie had almost forgotten the possibility that this could all be just Sydney trying to work her over. That Sydney was the reason this wall was between them in the first place. Almost. So Annie censored her natural reaction, as she was known for doing. She forced herself out of the headspace of nostalgia, and furthermore tried to put herself in her girlfriend's shoes, in this situation. Knowing that for all intents and purposes, to term in gross (very, very gross), Sydney was her Zeke. However this wasn't a thought she could fully entertain without getting annoyed either. So the architect did slip the glass from the other woman's fingers,sitting the pair to the side with her free hand. Annie lingered in the contact, bringing the hand she held to her lips to kiss the exposed skin of her wrist delicately. Green eyes met their brown counterparts. "I am so, so proud of you, Songbird.." Annie released her, leaning into the cushions of the couch comfortably. She could hold her at this distance, surely? "What does the husband have to say about this forbidden love? There's always a husband, after all.."
