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Post by Lady Rosalind Avalle on Dec 4, 2009 12:24:16 GMT -6
___________________________________________ Yet I would not have all yet. He that hath all can have no more ; And since my love doth every day admit New growth, thou shouldst have new rewards in store ; Thou canst not every day give me thy heart, If thou canst give it, then thou never gavest it ; Love's riddles are, that though thy heart depart, It stays at home, and thou with losing savest it ; But we will have a way more liberal, Than changing hearts, to join them ; so we shall Be one, and one another's all.
- John Donne
___________________________________________ Peregrine: "I'll follow you." Wherever she went, but there was a certain warning to him, his eyes sank in with shame? Or was it simply the aggravation of having the night pulled over his face. "So..." The night opened around them as they made their way back to the castle, "What brought you to the Cat's Eye tonight?" He was afraid to touch her, afraid to be false with her, but more importantly afraid to allow her to see through him in the moment. He had kissed another woman tonight..and liked it, and would do it again if he could..if he held the will power. He gambled on Janice's life, knowing full well that if one of those hogs from his tavern could win the bet, they would kill her while forcing themselves on her, and he wasn't working on the house. All very good reasons to end their relationship. Rosalind: "My leg hurts tonight." It didn't hurt on her way to the Cat's Eye, from where her carriage had come to a halt and she decided to walk the rest of the distance. But it ached now, and her pace was slow as she led the way out of the Underdark and to where the air was fresh. There was not the scent of stale beer or rank body fluids, but the sea fresh breeze, and a stall already selling roasted chestnuts. She noticed his reluctance, and thought he was upset with her for interrupting his sale. She was, but he had never feared a confrontation with her before. "A friend in the castle told me that Janice was seen in the Cat's Eye. Again. When the word 'again' is spoken with such cynicism, it usually implies unseemly activities in places young women should not be seen in the first place. It is unbecoming of the court to have one of its members, even adopted as Janice is, seen in such a way." Rosalind had been giving Janice her lessons in the castle. Less now, as the girl seemed to soak up knowledge like a sponge, but it was difficult to shake such a life simply because one spent less time at the castle. Rosalind was living proof. "I am glad I came when I did. Is it true? You are her pimp. And you are whoring her out." It was not said with the rancor he might expect. Rosalind had listened to Janice. The girl had higher motives than simply losing her virginity and making a few coins. But why was he involved? Peregrine: Sweeping her off her feet, Rosalind knew how to keep him under her arm. She said jump he did, she said don't..he wouldn't, she said her leg hurt..he would carry her. "Hold on to me." He whispered as they climbed the stairs that lead out of the lower quarter, and up into the main port where the city returned to it's normal. With a sigh, Peregrine told the truth, "In a way you could call me that, but it's a one time transaction and I'm not even certain she means to carry it out. She came to be the other night in the tavern, asked me if I would do it. I didn't want to, but if I hadn't? Then who would she go to? Not a single soul in that under world would have kept her safe. They would have wanted her to themselves, it's how the men there are..my brothers. There is something else going on, Rosalind, something behind that Hall..it's got her scared. She won't admit it, but she's doing this because she feels there is no other way, but I'm not even certain of her reasons behind it. To have everyone in the same room? Who? Who is everyone? I'm bait..I get that, and I don't care. People already talk about what a horrible person I am, let them think that, but Janice?" He kicked his feet as they walked, showing little signs that her in his arms bothered him at all, "They all think it's my fault, that I'm holding her against her will..It damn near killed Jean-Claude, and he damn near killed me." Rosalind: In one hand, she held her cane, and the other arm wrapped around his neck. She had never imagined she would feel so comfortable being so cared for that she merely had to complain and he would fix everything within his power. He would even carry her out of the Underdark,when she felt as large as a house under the tabard, dress, and cloak she wore to disguise their growing child. "Does she actually mean to go through with it or is it mere ploy? She is a good girl. I do not know what will happen to her if she loses what she believes to be her innocence in such a ... loveless way." She was being remarkably neutral given her entrance into the Cat's Eye earlier, and the last few nights he had spent out in the wild, rather than with her. "He loves her. Did you not see them at the banner ceremony?" It was the same event, Rosalind recalled with a smile, that the Lamonts had brought in a crab apple tree as a gift to the High Lord and Lady. "But I did not expect him to do this to you." She touched the swollen part of his face, and the deep, ugly line around his neck. "Pere," she breathed, ignoring the fact that they had reached her carriage. Peregrine: "I'm not sure what she wishes, I'm going to go talk to her tomorrow. I'd like to know her true outcome, if she wishes to go through with it..either way I'll rig it. I have planned this from the beginning..Though I'm not certain Jean-Claude is willing enough to even pretend." He closed his eyes at her touch, as if all the that was wrong in the world could melt away with just the tips of her hands, "I would have done the same thing, if it had been you. I killed your husband, remember." As they came before her carriage door he would set her down, opening the door for her, but not letting her go just yet. His arms went high around her so that he did not put pressure around her stomach, but he had to hold her if only for a moment. Inhaling deeply he felt his heart race, flutter with the realization she was real, and she was standing right before him. He could touch this one, love this one, and not feel guilty..but still it remained. Taking her hand he would squeeze it, "I can't follow you tonight." His heart started to pound then, and there was a deep selfish desire to do it anyway. "Rosalind. I..well..you see.." He exhaled harshly, "I kissed another woman tonight. We've kind of always had a thing for each other, and she was baiting me..but that's not an excuse. I don't have any other then she's made it very clear she loves me. Yeah bad timing I know, but I'm just..existing in this moment, and I can't hurt you. I have to be honest with you..if I have learned nothing else in our past, it is this; I have to tell you the truth." Rosalind: She had missed him so deeply that when his arms went around her, she would have done anything to keep him there. His voice penetrated the warm bubble she had created for herself, with the thought that he would come home with her, and they would, for once, share a bed. Making love lately was the height of awkward; she understood that he did not wish to bother her. But rolling over to the cold spot that he usually occupied, and realizing she was alone, was deeply unpleasant. She was lonely, just as Jean-Claude had tried to tell Peregrine, and tonight she had craved a little attention from a man who was familiar with the subject, verb, and object pattern of sentences, who did not want to regale her with stories of horse breeds, or demand she buy him armor to become a knight. She knew better than to think Pere would not shove food up his nose, but Rosalind knew how to compromise. His words chipped away at that image and left her speechless for a long time. Finally, she recovered her voice. "It is a shock ... of course. But I understand if you must ... find comfort in another." She gently removed his arms from her and climbed into the carriage. Once situated on the cushioned bench, she turned to face him. "Do you love her?" Peregrine: "No..I just get her. She understands me. I go where her lover will not, and she goes where mine will not. It's not something I'm proud of, and after everyone of her attempts I've been able to push her away..She's been here for me, like a sister, a friend..my best friend. Every time you have doubted me, she's been there to reassure me it just takes time." He put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the open carriage door. "She's opened my eyes to many things, Rosalind, and the biggest is that things have to change between us. I can't go on like this, nor do you deserve it. If you haven't felt things are different between us, then.." He took a deep breath sitting then on the carriage floor with his feet still flat on the ground. "Maybe I'm just crazy, but you know..I'm an affectionate person. I need that kind of attention, and love. Jean-Claude warned me that it was just the baby, but even before you've never tried to seduce me, or invite me out. I follow you, and I'm a little burnt out." God, he felt like a fool, and knew his timing was horrible..but it's been on his heart for sometime. "I don't want to hurt you, but I know me..I will." Rosalind: "Well. At least you are an honest son-of-a-bytch," Rosalind said softly. She rested her hands on her stomach. Obviously, there was some affection between them if they had managed this belly of hers. There was some love, if she wished to marry him. She was not with him out of duty or obligation. She was with him because she adored him. She looked away for a moment, not hurt particularly, but stunned. "I have never had to seduce before. Why did you not tell me? I feel a fool when I do. I thought you would appreciate honesty over all else, and I ... I have never had that life, Pere. But I could have learned, if you had said something. Am I so unapproachable? That you cannot even tell me you are unhappy?" She sighed and turned back to face him. "I am tired of waiting for you to come home. At least I will know not to worry. Go. You have my blessings." She turned face the wall before her. She was just as expressionless now as she had been when he told her how he felt. She wished she hadn't known. It was more comforting to imagine him asleep in a tree, needing the comfort of the stars above, rather than another woman beneath him. "I love you, Pere. I want you for my husband. So we will find a way past this, and I will some day love you like you need me to. But I am in no condition to do so now. Go." Peregrine: "I'm not asking you to be something your not Rosalind, you seduce in your own way." He turned the idea around in his head a few times, before stepping inside to set beside her. "It's not about the passion Rosalind, or the amount of time we're together..just you don't smile, or laugh. You stay locked in your tower as if waiting for someone to come save you." He held up his hand to stop her, shaking his head, he wasn't ready to go just yet, but soon. "Things are different with you..I get that. You've had it hard, baby, and I'm not making this any easier..a kiss is nothing on my side of the street..but.." He sighed, "I'm not sure where to go from here, but I need a little space to figure it out..you understand, I don't want to be tempted when I marry you. I don't want to be tempted at all..but I fear until I get out of this life, it's there. I promised no more blood money and look..I promised no more nights away from you, and I've spent what? One? Home? The rest have been in my tree, or at the pub. I'm dreaming these horrible nightmares, that I wake up sobbing, and I don't even want to tell you..I should, I should feel I can be open with you, but I can't. Because I don't want to be a burden on you, and now..with this?" He sighed again, looking over at her, before he would lean in to touch her stomach, rub it gently and kiss her cheek. "I'm sorry." He whispered, "We're just two different people." Pulling away, he would catch her eye long enough to show her how serious he was, before lowering his head to make his way into the night. Rosalind: She touched his cheek, the good one, without a cut slashing across it, and kissed his lips. "I've been so lonely without you, Pere. So lonely, I do not know what to do with myself. I wanted you to tell me about your dreams. I wanted to hold you when you cried. You are so busy protecting me, you do not let yourself be protected, and perhaps there is something wrong with me that this stands as an obstacle." She covered the hand on her stomach with hers. She was useless without him. She needed him like air. When he did not come home, she worried where he went. She buried herself in other work, and claimed busy-ness as a reason for never leaving the castle and seeking him out herself. They were different people indeed, but she had believed he needed her the same way she needed him. But perhaps she was merely being selfish. She didn't know. This admission rocked her world, and she wasn't certain how to accept this new reality, except to let him go, and let him know she loved him enough to be willing to welcome him back. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Before you go," she said, struggling to maintain the expression on her face, but failing entirely. Disappointment was there, yes, but so was love. "I do not want you to feel guilty. I want you to come back to me, and it will be hard -- " she watched as he climbed out, "it will be hard for you to come home to me if you feel guilty. But come home to me. Please come back to me. Please."
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Post by Peregrine Inveryne-Lamont on Dec 14, 2009 19:32:45 GMT -6
(A sex scene..beware.)
A few days had passed, the skies had turned black with rage reflecting the tree king's temper, and seeing to it he felt at home. Spring was around the corner, or so it felt on this bitter autumn night. The weather was warm, and the air seemed moist damp from the cold front's lift. The sea was wild under the moonless night, pressing their waves with rushing heights, and beating them across the sands. It caused the wind to race over the dunes and through the thick woods sweeping the tall weeds to sigh. Like a lover's moan it moved through the trees, raising voices as they cried into the night, and here he was certain to find her. Unfazed by the chill, the golden haired boy from the forest enjoyed the feel of the breeze sweeping through his curls. They felt wild atop his head, and looked the part, yet how could he deny himself such a pleasure? Ada, was not far--he felt her like the wind, felt her move through him just the same. (d
"You are not helping," Ada muttered crossly to the skies, holding her swirling clothes around her petite frame and cursing irreverently at the western candle of her circle. "It is difficult to cast a cleansing spell if you give me such impure thoughts, trees." She crouched beside the candle and tried to light her taper once again, but the wind puffed it out each time the spark flew. Ada need prove to no one how proficient she was in out-cursing any Parisian street rat. She could beat them all without effort, save the candle was made to do things in Ada's extensive muttered vocabulary that candles ought not do. With mothers, goats, sailors, and even the baker's apprentice. Finally, she sat back on her bottom, an elbow draped across a knee raised to her chest, the charred taper that would not light held between her fingers as if she intended to smoke it. She tilted her head back and stared upward. It was a moonless night, the best of nights to cast such spells of undoing and rebirth. Yet nothing in this world wished her to do so, and her heart beat proudly, almost stubbornly, within the frame of her ribs. She breathed in and outward, timing the draw and exhalation of air with the moans of the trees. She breathed in the cycles of the sea and the ceaseless rhythm of the autumnal hunt. She took in the fire from the candles that remained lit in her circle. Strength from earth, passion from fire, and the soul of air -- so even if the dousing tranquility of water yet eluded her, nature provided what the candle lacked. "I do not want you, Horned One. You are trouble for me, and if you are wise, if you are merciful, you will let me be." She cursed and candles and lied to her god. She touched her hand to her forehead, inadvertently smudging soot across her brow. She glanced up and cursed again, not the Horned One summoned this time, but another of his unruly incarnations. *
Already his gash looked as if it were weeks old, and not so swollen. Healing rather quickly had always been his one gift, but many argued it was simply his deal with devil. Peregrine would do his bidding, to walk this world over a thousand times, and take with it only a smile. "You are upsetting my ocean." He breathed in a voice that carried over the wind in the very gentle rush that touched her face. Outside her circle he stood, his hands in the oversized pockets of his captain's coat. The color was a deep gray, trimmed in blue--a gift from the General's wife, one Yule when he had thought to never celebrate. A pirate, sea following spirit lived in a tree, and worked underground. So what element was he truly? The sky held no limits and could draw closer to his kind. It was the stars in heaven, the shallow out his mind and stay close to his heart. However, before her stood a living breathing man, whose heart beat in his chest just the same as the waves upon the shore, in rhythm. Slowly outside her circle he would walk, skimming the edge as if running his hand over her flesh he teased the outside lightly. "You are drawing down the moon.. invoking an ancient spirit..or mad." His dark eyes lowered on her, and narrowing with his smirk as he would cant his head to draw her from her protection. (d
She glared at him. "I am trying to make you go away." She picked up the flint and stone, and held it above the taper, trying in earnest to ignore what his stare did to her flesh, and how the wind protested violently the formation of this circle. It would break her heart to tell him to go away, so she tried the next best thing. She ignored him. Sparks flared and sizzled out. The taper's charred end, which should have lit easily, remained cold and black. "The only spirit I am invoking is the return of my common sense. I have none when you are near. It is obvious to us both. And unnecessarily painful. There are parts of this forest, Peregrine, that do not have memories of us in the leaves and the trees do not yet whisper what they near witnessed. It took me many days to find one." The lines of glowing red remained burned upon her eyes long after they faded. She blinked and rubbed at them, setting aside the flint with more force than needed. It bounced along the earth. "The moon is mine enemy tonight. It must hide if I wish to set you free. For the moon is Her, and the mystery of the waters, which is why they are so troubled this eve. The desire of the heart of man, calls unto thine soul, and She is the soul of nature, who gives life to the universe. From Her all things proceed and unto Her all things must return; in Her eyes your most divine self is enfolded in the rapture of the infinite. She bears compassion and strength, love and pleasure are her rituals, and I am a poor fool caught between with pitiful mirth and reverence as I throw myself into the abyss." Ada's magic was such an infinite storm. The beginning, and the end to which all men sought to return. The candle would not light. She sighed. *
"Adelaide.." He breathed then, his heart sinking in his chest watching her struggle with the flame, "You wish me gone?" A cant of his head with his question would have such a pitiful sound. Closing his eyes to feel the warmth of her circle, he would hold up his hand to still the night. "You can make me go no where." He dared her, looking up to the moon then and smiling, "Tell me then, Child what the trees are saying. I have not listened in so long." He lied, but with truth for how could he understand what it was they said, when he himself did not. Allowing his hands to fall at his side, he come to catch her eyes. "Invite me in..I can light that candle. I wish for this to be over just as much as you. Do you think I it easy that the woman carrying my child is alone heartbroken because I told her the truth?!" His shoulders would square away with his body as he lowered his gaze on her again. "Invite me in." (d
She blinked slowly, staring up at him with large dark eyes. There was never any innocence in those eyes; likely, there never had been. They saw to his core, past whatever he presented as the truth, and saw the man beneath the words, behind the grins and the easy lies. And even the not so easy lies. "You do not need to be invited. The circle is broken, and it does not wish to be repaired." She threw the taper at him, and climbed to her feet. Such a feeble gesture of anger she did not truly feel; the stick would make no more dent upon his person than if she had brushed his chest with her hand. Which she very much felt like doing at that moment, no matter how she had fasted and meditated to purge him from her heart. She walked to her altar and stared at its contents, spread upon a white handkerchief that now glowed under the revealed face of her Lady. "I am trying, Pere. I am trying so hard. I know you love her. I know it is not easy, what lies between us. So it is better if it is gone. Short of leaving, which I cannot do, I sacrifice our friendship so that you may return to her, and prove that you are a man worthy. But whenever you are near...." She glanced upward at the wildly swaying trees, and grabbed the edges of her shawl again to keep it from flying away into the branches. "This is not what I want at all." *
"I left her." He spoke bluntly, his heart aching as he thought of Rosalind in that carriage, "Does that make you happy? Would you leave Jean-Claude for me? Be my Queen?" He called out to her, his voice to compete against the wind. "No. You would not." He took a few steps further around the edge of the wood, his steps very rooted heavy upon the ground, as no matter where he was to go Peregrine would always know his roots. "How do you make it go away? Ada how? I've got a princess in her tower," His hand went up to gesture towards the direction of the castle. "How do you think she feels? Can you imagine the torture it is to know she's alone? She gave me her blessing." He would start to pace then, his passion on the rise as the frustration built once again. "Ada I'm at my wits end. SO stop it. STOP." He clenched his teeth, wanting hard to slam his fist into the trees, break the branches, and scream out into the night. "It's now or never." He growled, the fires burning in his eyes over his face. (d
Tears stung her eyes, but they did not drop to her cheeks. She blinked and they were gone. "Why are you telling me this? Do you think the concept of loyalty is lost on me?" She folded her arms across her chest. When he moved, she followed, tracking him as he paced beyond the edge of her nearly-formed circle. "No, I would not leave him. He is in love with another, and still, I would not leave him. Until he tells me not to come home to him, I will do just that. I can do nothing more, nothing less, than love him. It is the same with you. I cannot stop it. I would, if I could, but I do not know how! I never have!" Her life would have been so radically different if she had any power over it. She would not have fallen in love with the king. She would not have spent the past year attempting to re-awaken herself from that profound betrayal. She would not still, after all he had said, love Ghislain. Nor after all he had not done, love Ren. "You know perfectly well I am not queen material. If I were, I would command this heart to stop beating. The wind to stop blowing. This gods be damned circle to form, and Her blessing upon the ritual I should have formed long ago. Why can't you stop it? Why must it be me? Does not the Dark Hunter, with a visage as dark as the void and armor bright with flame, command the Hunt? Command me to stop loving you." *
For the moment he was silent standing before her then, and all the world fell with him. The wind stopped blowing as if all the air was pulled from the atmosphere. The leaves fell then lifeless floating back towards the heavens, without the wind to push them about. Motions slowed, as if they were submerged under water, but still he moved in a very real time. Closing the space between them, he slowly brushed his hands over her hips and eased them around her. "I command you.." He whispered, keeping his lips but an inch from her own to have them skim along the warm skin of her cheek, to then breath over her neck; raising then only to whisper against her ear. "To stop.." Peregrine, circled around her, keeping her there in his arms to press her back against him. With fingers going through her hair, he took in the scent longingly, it was a drug to him--this woman. However, he would be so quick then to pull away, turn away from her and curse the night. "AHHhhh" He would scream slamming his fists in the earth as he fell to his knees, before clasping his ears with his palms. He shut out the rest, the voices in the trees who cried out in their tricks. He knew it was her, Dryads were evil minded souls, and his was none the less. Standing again he would turn on Ada, wild. Taking hold of her wrist he would pull her to meet him half way and devour her lips with his own; breaking only to breath, "Love me." (d
She turned her eyes skyward, searching for the source of this bizarre magic. Ada was a child of the earth, but even she was new to this trickery, where the leaves seemed to fall upward and the skies downward, and the trees folded inward to create a chapel overhead of vaulted branches. He pulled her close, his hands warming her flesh beneath the skirts, and her body rested against his. They were by design meant to be together, all her jokes about his height aside, there mere shape of his arms solid around her, and the softness of her figure molding against his. She stared up at him. He had to be aware he held their hearts in his hands, and that at the moment, they had all the strength of the season's first ice lacing the surface of the lakes and burns of this land. He had to be aware, his breath brushing heatedly across her mouth, that his words would kill her. Yet they fell upon her anyway, useless, without the power either had intended them to carry. She felt like laughing, but the bitter sound never escaped her lips. She watched him go, and the pain that tore through him with failure to break the spell. She took a step toward him, but then he rose, as fast as the hunter catching his prey, and she fell into him with every piece of her feeling as if it was in shambles. He could make it right. She parted his lips with her own, sliding her leg between his, and threading her fingers tightly through his hair. He could leave, but with that grip, he would chance leaving his blond curls behind. *
In her kiss the world started again, the rage of the night fell around them, yet this time it came from all directions; pressing them together. Ada felt so perfect, in the moment it's memory would be one he could cherish. There wasn't anywhere he could go, that sounded any better then here. All of his mind was cleaned, cleared of the guilt. His arms were strong, a mix between her lovers. He was not a massive mountain, nor a whisper of a man--but a sailor . All of his commitment was there in his embrace, but all of his promises fled in passions that even he had not known existed. Somewhere in their joining, he would lift her, press her back against a tree with a force that followed in their steps. It added height to her, made her parallel to him--equal in all forms. It also freed his hands so that they could keep her there and he would gather the fabric of her attire in his hands just so he could touch grip her, exploring, wanting of everything and having so little time. The very ground they stood rumbled with the realization, but as he gathered her once again into his arms he would force her legs to wrap around him, pushing her higher so that her skirts could be lifted--or lowered, whatever came first, he simply wanted her free of her mortal clothes, and as their maker intended. The passions burned until he begged to be free, setting back enough to remove his coat as he was certain he were to catch fire. (d
There was nothing, no one, beyond him. He took away the world. He made her a new one. Even the tree against her back felt unreal, and the breeze against exposed flesh did nothing to cool her. The storm that had chased him into her circle had vanished; waters tumbled over as the tide turned out, drawn up toward the moon as warm, unseasonably warm air settled along the forest floor. Her back would no doubt ache tomorrow from the force of hitting the tree, but she merely laughed. There was no tomorrow. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying his face in what he'd until now avoided exploring. And held aloft, she reduced the knot holding her bodice together to mere string, which fell upon the floor soon followed by the garments usually and not so effectively covering her upper body. She stepped out of her skirts and helped him with the lacings of his pants, wrapping herself around him once he was freed, and sighing at the feel of bare flesh against her own. He burned so hotly, she was afraid he would indeed catch fire, and she was the last thing on this earth he needed to douse him. "Love me," she whispered back to him, then once more covering his mouth with her own. There was nothing profane in what they did, nothing to feel guilty of, not if Ada's single tenant guiding her life was obeyed. They did love one another, and it was far from wrong to free themselves of the shame. She felt all the frustration and rage fall away from her as if freeing herself of shackles, with her hands lovingly stroking his hair as he fit himself between her legs, and the wind began gently moving through the bare branches of the trees again, as anxious as the lovers below for reprieve. *
It was all he could do to take his time, tasting of her as they went. In all the world alive in their victory, it felt right. She felt right. No matter how the guilt hurt, he could not feel it then. Filling her, he cried out in a small sound as it took all of his self control to not unfold in her arms. Somewhere between reality was not a man, his spirit too wild, but when her eyes were to open she would find only his face--cut open by her lover. He felt all world around him, even with eyes closed. Peregrine believed to truly love another, you must hide away, learn of their body by senses more primitive to man. He saw her through the aura around her, the feel of her skin, the warmth of her breath. Their pace was a rushed one, a selfish one, but he felt if it was not he would explode. The cold wind came quickly over him, as he brought their bodies together. It set in, with the husky sounds of his breath, but they were past the point of return. This was not a selfish love, but he felt as he cupped one of her ample breast within his palms. Though, she did get a rise from the touch. He felt himself drawing close, picking up his rhythm to bring her along, as he would never leave her behind, but soon could handle no more. He felt that wickedness creep behind his lips, but he kept his mouth shut--leaning against her, giving into her, this perfect woman in his arms. Breathless, he tried to catch it there sheltering her from the cold, laying his head against her shoulder, and curling his face into her neck with one arm still holding her--the other still propped against the tree. There were lights behind his eyes, that blinded him--but perhaps it was simply her desire, and love. "Jean-Claude is missing much." He finally broke the silence, raising his grin to catch her eyes. It would take a lot more to tire him out, but in the moment he simply needed to exist. (d
She was never shy letting lovers know how she felt at their touch. Soft sighs, groans of pleasure she did not near nor hope to control, and rapid gasping when she came to climax, holding on tightly to him as if she was afraid he would drop her. Of course he did not, and she slowly sank back into awareness, nuzzling her face to be next to his, and letting the fall of her hair warm his back and shoulder. She loved this man. He was not perfect, no one ever was, and she could not even pretend anymore not to know why they were so attracted to one another. She did not examine it now. She breathed. She held onto him. She gently stretched her back along the tree to stretch muscles she had not thought about until now. "He takes what pleases him. He never leaves me unsatisfied." Yet he never threw her up against a tree. He would not dream of it. "Do not make me compare you, pirate," she finally said, grinning despite the tone of her voice, which was anything but kind. "I do not yet have enough evidence to declare a victor." She sobered for a moment, and let her head rest against the tree, sliding her legs down from where they were crossed behind his back, and planting them once again on the earth. She unwove her fingers from his hair, and gently ran her thumb along the cut upon his cheek. She lapsed into silence, wishing despite brave words to just hold still, and stare at him. *
"Then let us not be at war. Jean-Claude is a good man. One who will never leave you wanting, and will be a very good provider." There was a more noble air to him then, his words sounding educated as if they were not his own. His tone was warm, but still held the rock hard security that confidence made. He liked it when she talked down to him, he liked it when his hair was touched, and he liked to be tied up. All ideals she could relate, but in this moment he could simply just live. It took him a good matter of will power not to melt against her, to stay there in her arms forever, but all must come to an end. Turning from her, that charm of his would fall over his face, a darkening look over his shoulder as he turned from her leaving to collect their clothes, "Satisfied now? Your vixen ways, turned hunter into prey." Stepping into his breeches he would not bother to lace them up, just enough to hold them up. "You have won." Though he certainly felt as if he carried the gold. (d
Ada canted her head, but did not leave her tree, and did not make any false pretenses at modesty when he stepped back. She was cold and it was apparent, but she did not particularly care. "I do not need a man to provide for me. I provide for myself. And I do quite well, I might add." For a former milkmaid from Embrun, she did better than anyone in her village ever would. "Do not tell me what I need." Nor even what side she should stand upon. She had chosen Jean-Claude three days ago and she'd chosen Peregrine tonight. What she felt regarding their war was irrelevant. She made her own choices, though she had made a commitment to not intervene. Tricking Peregrine had hurt too much, though tying him up had not. She smiled, just a corner of her mouth rising in irony, as she watched him pull up his pants and make himself presentable."I am satisfied," she said quietly. "But I won nothing. I was not playing a game. I never do in these matters. Do not cheapen what I felt." She brushed past him, letting her hand trail across his chest, and gave him a dark look as she went back to the circle, and began putting out the candles. She knew this was their last night. But it had been a good one, and if he said one more word to destroy what still lingered in the back of her mind, to make profane what still sent shivers down her naked body, she would destroy him. *
Leaving his shirt where it be, he would wear only his coat with a smile. This was who he was, the careless rake lost in the night, finding his way home. However, there was much of him still a gentleman; her clothes were held out to her. "I'm satisfied, but I have a hundred years to make up to Rosalind. I hurt her tonight, she begged me to come back to her when I was finished." He reached out to brush his hand up her back, tossing her skirts over his shoulder. It would free up his hands, and allow him to help her dress. He would brush his hands through her curls, letting them cascade down her back, and longing form them to be down his own again. However, he fell in love with Rosalind again, over and over each day, and in this moment he loved her even more. He could not, he was free, this torment to share with Ada his soul--gone. They felt complete now. "I'm going to love you forever you know this.." He kissed her cheek as he slid his arms around her shoulders. "I'll change the word from provider to pirate. You don't need a man to provide for you..but you need a pirate." Everybody needed a little pirate in their life. He laughed then, squeezing her. "Just you keep that magic over here." He pointed to the inside of the circle. (d
The all-consuming passion between them had faded into something more tolerable. She could breathe again, and nothing in this forest seemed to encourage her to make further earth-shattering, life-altering choices. She let Peregrine finish lacing her up, and then kissed him gently. There was tenderness in the gesture, a softness that hadn't existed before, not with so much standing between them. And then she let him go, smiling. "It is not gone between us. But I feel it is less powerful. Go home, Peregrine. Take a bath first, and then go home. I'll not come to the forest anymore looking for trouble. But I think I will stay here for a few more days. I am not ready to return to Jean-Claude just yet." She fluffed her curls with one hand, looking in that moment utterly childlike, her expression one of confusion and amusement, as well as one of desperately needing the relief of dreams after such an unreal night. "I do need a pirate," she admitted, hugging him in return. "As you need one more wench in your life, I am certain. I will always love you. 'Tis writ in the stars." She gestured heavenward, laughed when he thought to look up for new stars, and then gave him a gentle shove away from her circle. The wind was calm, and she would re-light her candles and start over again. Something told her it would be easier this time to light the western candle. *
He held her hand for a moment, his eyes questioning her, and when she pushed him he would not let go of her yet. "You do not want to return home? Or to Jean-Claude?" Did she just wish to stay in the forest? He caught onto something in her, this shewolf beside him. Had anyone asked her how she felt over the whole subject? How was it Ada was doing? "You are upset that we are fighting? Because..Ada..we do this. Just like lovers. He and I. Got me good one time, drugged me for a week he did." (d
"No." No, what, exactly? There was no mirth in her smile when he caught onto her worry, but she did not shake him free. Rather, she stepped back to him, and rested her arms lightly across his shoulders. He was a good height for it. She could not do this with Jean-Claude. "I know. You have a complicated relationship. I do not want to be any more a part of it than I am. I know you will mend your tears with him. But I doubt," she sighed. "I have doubts. That it could be the same between Jean-Claude and I, if I betray him one too many times. I only live once, after all." She would prefer to live with Jean. Losing Jean was to lose the other half of her heart, the piece of her soul that she had been coursing after for a thousand lifetimes, since the earth was formed and the stars cast in the heavens. "I worry about a lot of things, Peregrine. But not about you and he. It must be right in my heart when I come home to him, and right now...." Her skin still heated when he touched her. Her heart still sped up when he laughed. It was reason enough to stay in the woods, complete her cleansing ritual, and come home with a clear conscience. *
"Shall I tell him anything for you? Mon Chatte." He teased with her name, as he always did. It was his pet name for her, and a dear one--perfect reason to make fun. Touching her hips he kissed her again, happy with her answer as he understood it--he found himself on the other end. He couldn't wait to rush home to Rosalind, it had been nearly three days since he had last seen her, and with the events..Lord, he couldn' wait to take her up in his arms. She would be waiting..right? He wanted her to be waiting, in her tower, with her hair down--so that he might climb up. He would wait for her answer, and hold it still against his heart; finding it hard to leave her, but running the whole way.
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Post by Adelaide d'Aquitaine on Dec 14, 2009 20:28:47 GMT -6
Before the Fall
Peregrine: The dreams have not stopped, with the dawning of a new moon phase they had only grown worse. He heard voices in his head that had never been, a woman's touch he had never felt, and a face he swore he knew. All were familiar in his dreams. They held places in his memory like stars in the sky, each reserved for dark moonless nights. The autumn air was bitter cold, but the sweeping winds were warm--perhaps the last of the tropic storms brewing in the South. It was cold until the wind's breath swept over his back, and pushed the wondering child further down the road. The night was calling, and he heard her voice strong. Yet, his heart was lonely, Rosalind wouldn't understand, she would give him that look that tried to see his side, that listened, but spoke without words of her own struggle. He loved her dearly, ready to trade away his life for another, but nothing would take the wild from the warmth under his skin. Ada would understand. A lone caller in the middle of the night, perhaps could be called a fool, but upon her step--a lost child on his way to being found. Peregrine rolled from the bed of his lover, barefoot, and tousled to stand upon her step. With a knock on her door, he took a deep breath wanting to put his hands in his pockets but finding the sail made attire lacking.
Ada: It was late, but Ada wasn't sleeping tonight. Her books were spread out before the hearth, and the only light in the room came from the fire burning low. From the multiple teacups, it was clear she was working on a new blend of herbal medicine, but at the moment, it's effects were nowhere near what she had intended. Namely, there were none at all. And it tasted foul. She took a fresh cup of water, spiked with clove to clean her breath, and went to the window. She settled on the ledge, budging the blue shutter open with her foot, the other on the floor to balance while she sat so precariously over the street down below, where all good boys and girls were in bed. She tilted her head back, liking the feel of the wood against her head. It was sturdy and cool, and the breeze fanned her clothing, lifting the edges of her chemise at cuff and breast, ribbons fluttering where she had pulled them loose to give her another inch of breathing room while the bodice remained tightly laced. It was a beautiful night. Jean-Claude would never consent to lying out on the roof under the stars. The dew would ruin his perfectly straight hair. Maybe Ada was a bit lost as she looked down on the street, unsure where she settled in between the men in her life, and if she even wished to settle at all. She liked the idea she'd presented to Peregrine. She was itching to be on her way again, but unwilling to leave anything she'd gained in this past year behind. Yet for some reason, all those who came to her believed she had it figured out. Salt of the earth healer knew what she was talking about, and was confident and brash enough to always tell the truth when it was asked of her. The knock at the door nearly startled her the wrong way out the window. She swung down from the ledge and padded barefoot across the floor to crack the door open. "The mollyhouse is that way." She nodded toward the docks.
Peregrine: It startled him the sounds that came within, but thrilled him all the same. His chest heaved with a deep breath, but once she pulled the door back he let it slowly fall back out. "Mollyhouse? They have one?" He grinned looking towards the direction she would motion, and shrug.."Who knew." Not he. With a small turn of his head he would give her a long look, blue eyes the color of the summer's sky passed over her body in a hungry motion, but he would shake the thought...but Ada was just..well..not his type at all. "So..you banging the headboards in there? Or fall down the stairs?" He grinned shifting on his stance, bare toes curling over the cold stone. "If I force my way in will I find my friend chained to your bed?" A tease knowing full well Jean wasn't the type, he had little desire for the flesh--it took up too much of his time. Plus he was getting old...Looking toward the city he would wrinkle his nose, before passing his eyes over the forest lines. "Would you..wanna..go for a walk?" In the dark. In the night. With a pirate.
Ada: Ada looked him up and down. Not with the same contemplative hunger as Peregrine, but perhaps looking for a clue as to why he was here, and not at the castle with her. She looked past him to where the lights of that stone behemoth would be, then back to him. "Did it sound like I was banging the headboards? Better yet, if I had him chained up, I am sure you would hear him, too, much earlier than you would hear me." She smiled, almost beatifically, and grabbed her shawl from the peg by the door. Sadly, it covered what the bodice left on display, and made her nearly respectable looking. "You know you would never have to force your way in, pirate. It would be more fun that way," the corner of her mouth twitched upward, "but I am sure you are aware, I have rarely if ever said 'no.'" She slid past him and turned the key in the lock, then slid it into her pocket. "I cannot stay inside another moment." It wasn't like her to give explanations for anything. She did what she pleased, and answered to no one. Or at least, this is how it used to be. She wasn't aware of when that changed, and when she started defending her actions with as much frequency. She was quiet for a moment, waiting for him to follow her down the steps, one hand closed around the edges of the knit shawl with her eyes resting on him. Waiting for him to fall? "Let's go. Time is wasting."
Peregrine: His heart ran away with his feet, as he took hold of her hand, and made way down the path a lot faster then perhaps she would expect. "Time is wasting, the harbor always looks the most beautiful when the moon is high." Would she expect to run into town, or had the path towards the darkened wood not surprised her? The world fell away, sounds as if pulled under a certain faded, and laughter from the taverns turned to the wild. The night canopy fell over his face brushing his skin turning it from dark to light, and carelessly giving life back to his eyes. He felt all the world around him then, listening with tipped ears to the night speak words lost on deaf ears. He wanted to stop, if only for a moment to talk back to the trees he had missed, to breath in the night air, rich and full of essence no bottle could ever consist. This was his drug. Deeper and deeper they went down a path that was lost, becoming more wild with each passing moment. Not many dared go so far, hunters..healers, but all came with reason into the woods. "I have a hard time living in that castle." He finally admitted in the break of silence, letting their step slow enough that he would not need to pull her along. "Practice I bet." He smiled, extending his arm perhaps just as Jean would, and smiled back at her.
Ada: Ada listened as sounds of the city faded, swallowed whole by the trees. There was a certain magic in the way the wind through autumn leaves reminded one of the sea. Of death, yes -- all the world was dying, but here and there, bright patches of resilient green -- but in the rattle and hiss, there was the continuity of the ocean. A hiss and sigh that lulled and pulled, and took Ada along with the same speed that drove Perry, until they were finally completely enclosed. She understood him. She felt the same way. There were days in which she could not be dragged from her garden, tilting her head back to catch what light remained of the cooling world, loving the warmth that flooded through the fabric and remained long after she returned indoors. Leaving Jean-Claude's protection had not been his idea, but hers; she could not bear it to be shut in away from the sunlight for one more day, away from her green things, and the little stubborn mint plant salvaged from last year's fires when Maubrey attacked Turas Lan, devastating her neighbors, and leaving her with fertile soil. And a single mint plant. She wondered how Peregrine did any of it -- sleep inside, when he so clearly did not wish to be surrounded by stone. Love one, when there was a wildness to him that did not fit the likes of his lady. But what did Ada know of her? She only knew Peregrine, and him, barely. She took his arm. "Suppose she does not like the castle, but it is all she knows. Take her somewhere else. That child of yours would benefit from some better mannered folk than those prisses mincing about in tartan skirts."
Peregrine: He would listen to her words, but let them fall away. He had not come to hear about his relationship, or what should be done. They were happy, and would make it work. Yet he doubted himself in the eyes of his lover, but not by way perhaps he should. He knew he was handsome as he knew he was gifted between the sheets, and in time he could learn to live right along beside her. He would learn the ropes of his role, know when to speak up, and when to pull her back. However, it was times like this he wondered if she ever knew this side of him. In a moment the forest stood still as they stepped into a small clearing, and the other side would host a high escape of trees as old as the island. The youth of the wood were on the out, and the deeper into the heart the deeper the roots would go. "She can live where she wishes, just so long as I have my tree." He turned a grin towards her pressing his back against the thick base of the tree and letting his head fall back. "Do you know Jean-Claude has never climbed a tree before...or one that did not have a staircase to reach the top." He spoke very plainly, "Have you ever noticed how he twitches when talk of the outdoors." Peregrine could not help but laugh lightly, an almost drunk sound that came with exhaustion, and plagued dreams. Madness. "But he would never ask you to stay inside, weather permitting. He would have a fit knowing you were barefoot in the cold." His toes scrunched in the leaves, the feel of the grass, and dirt below--welcome.
Ada: "He would, but he does not -- " she smiled slowly. "Well, I suppose he does give the orders. And I am more or less obedient." She stepped back, threw her arms out, and gave a slow twirl. Leaves were cold and wet under her feet, but they felt wonderful. Sticks and sharp stones didn't seem to bother the gardener, even if dainty feet were polished and scrubbed clean before Peregrine whisked her off into the wild. "I do not mind. In fact, I rather like being told what to do. I have enough to think about." She stopped, let her arms fall slowly back to her sides, palms up and index finger touching thumb. "No, he would never force me to stay inside. He would have a fit if I came in dirty, but it would kill him if I grew pale staring out the window, wishing to be anywhere else. We have very tolerant lovers." Speaking of Jean-Claude, of course. She threaded her fingers through her hair and shook the curls free, as if able to shake any connection to the hunter away, chasing ghosts or casting spells, warding against broken hearts and conversations she would rather not have. There would be a few scars on her body that had not been there before, and none so easy to hide as the triangular one on her hip from when she fell on a rock while playing in a stream bed as a child. She canted her head and looked at Peregrine. What burned in his blood that he needed to come to the wild to cool himself off? She was undeniably curious, but mostly because she did not like the thought that he knew more of her than she knew of him.
Peregrine: "The Book Binder lives just down that path." He spoke after a moment of silence passed between them between conversation points, like skipping stones they bounced from one to the other with ease. He felt free around her, though very few held him back, or dared. A nervous stance chased his shoulders back, and a hand through his hair. "I don't ask much of you. Or I try. The less stress Jean has, the happier I am, means he'll mind me more, but.." Looking up to the tree, he knew his nest was far to climb, but if any could do it--Ada could. "I've not been sleeping, and I'm desperate. Would you..come up? Just til dawn." He pressed from the tree trunk, giving her a look perhaps he had known Aldric to give when, he wanted to be held or rocked. Perhaps he had picked it up from the best. "I'll keep my hands to myself." He grinned, knowing he was asking a bit much, but perhaps the height above the world would do her good. She could be Queen of the night, and not once leave these lands. "It is not far." He spoke turning to face the tree once more, finding his footing well though they were entirely unneeded. He could make this climb without once slipping. "Unless you are afraid.." His voice grew quieter as he made his way up, speaking of how he knew she had been ill.
Ada: "Why haven't you been sleeping?" she asked softly, joining him at the tree as he put his foot down on the first step. She touched his shoulder, stopping him from climbing further. He might expect a faint smile on her full lips, but there was none. They enjoyed picking on one another, but he had to know, she would never hurt him. Nymph that she was, she had mercy that her more libidinous, drunken god did not. While Dionysus drank, Ada was always sober. She let him go, watching him as he disappeared up the tree. She began climbing, too, glad for the exercise even if her back felt a bit tight. It was easy to be dismissive of wounds she couldn't see. From the darkness beneath him, he might hear her laughter rise and mingle with the hissing of the leaves. "I cannot promise that I will keep mine to myself." Once she was standing on the platform, she took a moment, sitting down on the edge with her feet dangling over, her breathing hard but the heat on her flesh welcome. The illness had been hard on her, and she would not show any weakness to Jean-Claude even if he was expecting it. He asked her to lie, and so she did. But with Pere, there was no need to shelter him. She laughed and settled back along the wooden deck, her chest rising and falling until it slowed, and through the leaves, she could see a star or two. She sat up gracefully and pulled her feet in, as if suddenly aware of how tall this tree was.
Peregrine: Like all great trees there was a point in place where the structure flattened, hollowed through the thick bark, and left a perfect place for bedding. Perhaps this would be wear the bear skin of hers had gone, if he had not one of his own. It was under the canopy of the treetop, like a room of it's own where a treehouse would have been a perfect fit. "You can touch all you want, I have nothing I wish to keep from you." He teased back stretching out across the bearskin that still smelled of the late afternoon rain, but as well carried the warmth of the sun that followed. He folded his arms under the stuffed bit of fur on the edge that would make up a head rest, and on his chest he would look out over the valley. "I can keep an eye on the castle, just there." He pointed in the distance at the flickering lights, "And the harbor, you can see my ship. You and Jean-Claude are there." All that is important to him, but not any that order. He would avoid her question until, he pulled back a small chest, offering her the fleece. "I'm dreaming of my daughter..I think. Grown." Rolling to his back he would wish her closer, but already his eyes felt heavy. "Your mother..did she love the countryside?" He spoke between a yawn, but it was a torture to be so close--refusing to fall.
Ada: "Hmph. You are too sleepy to be any good to me," she teased, taking the fleece and wrapping it around her shoulders. She turned, and crawling, joined him on the bearskin. She slid her arm behind his head and drew him in, loose enough that if she lost sensation in her arm, she could curl it between them later on without disturbing his sleep. She gently stroked his hair while he began to fall. What sort of dreams was he dreaming, about this daughter still in Rosalind's womb? Were they disturbing, peaceful, frightening? What did a parent dream about for his children? Ada didn't think she would ever know, except by accident or horrible miscalculation on her part, but the topic had never come up with any of her lovers. "My mother loved the countryside with all her heart. She lived in this town where her mother lived, and her mother before her, and so on and so forth, beyond the French, the Italians, the Christian missionaries, the Romans, before time was kept. It was the only thing that made her happy, this little town that hadn't changed much, except in what language the villagers spoke that year." She smiled, and placed a kiss to his forehead. "I will molest you in the morning, pirate, but maybe you can listen to a story or two from Embrun. I have not told them in many years. None were so willing captives that I had the opportunity."
Peregrine: "He does not listen?" Peregrine knew the answer, Jean-Claude was a very avid listener, but often forgot the most important part--showing it. "I happen to be a very happy listener. You just keep breathing like that when you speak woman, just over my neck here." He curled his face downward, letting the exposed flesh there be present right under her mouth. "Mmmmmm." He whispered against her own neck inhaling the scent of the wild there against her skin. "I'd like to hear about your childhood. Was it happy?" Somewhere he had known it to be so, but she had never once said anything about it. "Have you any brothers or sisters? Cousins left? How about a tropical isle I could take you all? We shall drug our lovers, and force them away. With your mother, your father..any else?" He placed a warm kiss to her cheek, taking a deep breath he smiled. "And my heir, of nothing else I will take her." An excitement that was rare ran deep in his heart then.
Ada: "He listens. I do not say. Not about Embrun." She kissed his neck, let her teeth gently run along his throat toward his chin, and soothed it with another kiss before settling back with a little happy sigh. He smelled of wild things where Jean-Claude always smelled of soap. They were two distinctly pleasant scents -- mostly, because the soaps were of her crafting, and she was biased -- but neither could exist at the same time as the other. "Jean and I met in Paris, when I was sixteen. I left Embrun that year, my mother died and there was no reason to stay on my own. My childhood was very happy, Pere, but it was short. I try not to complain. But it will make our boat to that tropical island a little less full, ah? No cousins, no brothers, no sisters. None that I know of, at least. So I make new family, love them dearly, and would not mind sharing tight quarters with any of them." She smiled. "It could have turned out so differently in Paris. Things were not going well for me. Every day, I went to Benoit's shop to beg him to take me on as an apprentice. Or even a scullery maid, I did not care after a certain point. He turned me away each time, and when I walked away from his shop, always there was Jean-Claude waiting to cheer me up. He kept me from walking toward the docks, and I think he slid a few coins in my pocket once, but he will not confirm this. I was very young. Your daughter -- is she pretty? In your dreams?"
Peregrine: "Mmm. Tease." He whispered, but instantly perked up when she spoke of Jean-Claude. They had known each other? "You mean another Jean? Or are you talking of mine?" His brow arched with question, as this was a story even he had not heard. He grinned, from ear to ear always fond of fairy tales. "He was younger then I would assume. Somewhere an odd 30 years. You do not know his true age do you?" Rolling on his side he would wrap his arm about her hip holding her tightly. He laughed then shaking his head at the fate. "And you have gone all this time? Does he remember you? His family were practically royalty. They own an estate nearly as big as that castle there. I could imagine you there, just as I could see Rosalind here, but perhaps when the time comes we shall trade if only for a little while." Rolling to his back then he laced his leg with hers, just to keep close. "I'm not certain it is my daughter. I am not certain I am aware of who it is, or what..I just know that they want me to come back, but I am not aware."
Ada: "Much younger. It was a long time ago." It was not a better time, nor was it worse. It had simply been a great deal of years between then and now, and it made her feel old thinking about how young she had been. How naive and simple, when the only thing in the world she had wanted was a few minutes of attention from Benoit. She'd had no idea what to do with it if she ever gained it. She hadn't thought much further beyond the present minute or hour, and never in her life did she delude herself into thinking such an existence was exciting. "I do not much care how old he is. I do care that he did remember me. It took ... maybe he knew first." She wrapped her arm around him, letting her fingers trail along his lower back. "And I do not care who he was, or what his family was like. They are dead to me. Besides, I like him now. He is different, and yes, I still think about that man many years ago, but now .... Mmm." Jean had the power to make her shiver when she ran out of adjectives. It wasn't her bumbling with English that made her slide off into an incomplete sentence, but love, and a sudden reminder of what his eyes looked like when he saw the dried rose in her hands. "Pfft. Nobility. They are very strange people with very strange ideas. I think I would melt into the floor, and not out of anything romantic, if some gallant nobleman managed to think I was wifely material." But if Peregrine was marrying the Lady Inveryne, she supposed anything was possible. "You are not certain? But you should be." Ada had seen a great deal while the door was open, and while fever dreams still escaped her, she could feel the link between Peregrine and Rosalind as if they were bound by threads. Golden threads. Prophecy was not certain, but the past was. Ada touched his cheek with the back of her hand.
Peregrine: He curled into her, resting his head against the soft mounds of her breast, the heartbeat below a beautiful sound. "Stay with me. I've grown to love the feeling of a warm body against me. I love Rosalind...." He whispered, nuzzling his nose into her hair, "And you..." He yawned greatly, "And Jean-Claude." Somewhere between worlds he thought of her as a noble he could not help but smile, "And you would do well." And that would be all she wrote before the world washed away.
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Post by Lady Rosalind Avalle on Dec 16, 2009 21:28:04 GMT -6
Rosalind: She hadn't expected Peregrine to stay between four walls and under a heavy stone ceiling as long as he had. Understanding he needed to be under an open sky, but still hating how empty her bed was when she rolled over in the middle of the night and discovering his side cold, she said nothing about it when she did see him. Rosalind was quickly swept up in other matters, losing all track of time once again, as days spun in a quick blur of clan meetings, court obligations, hours at play with Aldric, and punctuating the busy-ness, letters from Colban about Neil's plans for Campbell. Rosalind needed to leave the castle and she did not need Perry to tell her so this time. She hadn't seen the sky in weeks, and even relaxing in the comfort of her suite at the castle was not truly relaxing, as she was always busy mapping out her duties for the next day, coming home long after Aldric fell asleep. She had a few friends in Turas Lan, but none particularly struck her fancy like Jean-Claude. She didn't want to talk about children or gossip about new couplings in court. She wanted something distinctly different, and the man was nothing if not ... unusual. So there she found herself opening the door to his shop, leaving her Lamont guards on the street, and gently unfolding her airisaid from her shoulders.
Jean-Claude: The winds swept through the streets of Turas Lan, moving the withered leaves under her feet, and pressing strongly to her back. Perhaps this should have been Rosalind's warning. Shadows placed over the moon far too quickly as the high winds pulled it free more often then not, allowing it shine brightly to only be masked once again. Perhaps another warning was the warm amber glow coming from the tinted windows of the second floor, or the shadow that passed over it with an awkward gate, back and forth; back and forth he stepped like a caged lion lost in thought. Jean-Claude had not heard the bells, that chimed for when he did that exact moment he pulled back his chair to perch at his workbench. It would have not been her steps to catch him, or the sound of her breath, but the whisper of the wind that carried the sound of her pulse through the keep. The warmth of another's presence always served as a reminder how alone his life had been before. Dressed down, he let himself relax, but even for a man as this--dress down meant he was without half of his attire. The heavy topcoat was upon it's hook, the silk jacket over his chair. All that would be left a silk blouse, with a vest closed by two silver buttons. The wool of his breeches were tight enough to fit down into the black leather boots that came nearly to his knees. His hair swept forward, falling around his face in perfect straight lines, but the body freed the strands from shadowing his face. His work was tedious tonight, as Rosalind would soon learn, setting a place for thin silver frames that would aid old eyes. He looked over the rims at her as he made his way down the stairs, clearly they did him no good with distance. "Bonsoir.." He spoke kindly, but confusion melted well with worry--was she ok? Crossing the distance between them he would not intrude her personal space, but looked upon her with questioning eyes, worried eyes. "If you are worried for Pere', Mon Amie, it is the night. He is within it somewhere, I assure you there has been no blood." He smiled then with a greeting coming to touch her shoulder gently before offering a more traditional French greeting. "How may I be of service to you, on this very cold evening?"
Rosalind: "Oh, I am not worried about Peregrine." Liar, she was always worried, but no more than usual. It was a comfort to kiss her countrymen on either cheek, but not with Jean-Claude. It was one habit that had not been weeded out of her by so many years in Scotland. She let the large sheet of heavy woolen fabric hang over her arms, comforted by its weight. Her hair was pinned up -- nothing particularly elaborate, but it was out of her face, and there was no pirate to object. He came closer and she smiled -- it seemed she would get to kiss either cheek after all, awkwardly with her arms so occupied, but it made her hazel eyes brighten to be so greeted. "And you should not be worried, either, my friend. I came to see you -- a social visit. I thought you might want some company. It has been some time since we spoke with any intimacy. And I heard ... " she paused. Even Rosalind couldn't be diplomatic about the fires in Turas Lan that she had seen burning from her window. If only she was the sort of brave wench who went with her lover to sea, but no explanation was necessary to Jean-Claude why this could not be so with the Lady Inveryne. "What I mean to say is, are you well? If you would rather not have company, I realize how impromptu and even rude my visit might be." A more timid woman would have turned back toward the door, assuming he would say no. But very few ever said no to Rosalind.
Jean-Claude: His eyes, now free from the glasses ever since the fires had been hard to distinguish. Were they looking at you? Or beyond? Once they were blue, but perhaps it was a chemical imbalance that made his iris's blend with the rest, dark smoke colored surrounded a small pupil, that dilated very rarely. He listened intently, and this could be told with his gaze unwavering and fixed within her, as if he heard not with his ears, but with the eyes that watched her lips. When she would stop, he was silent for only a moment before breaking the sound between them, "I always enjoy the company, it reminds me that there is life beyond these walls." He motioned to the neatly arranged shop, at which she could help herself. "Come upstairs, let us have tea, the fire here is nearly gone, and I would not wish this cold night on anyone." Leading her up the stairs, he was gentle in every motion, touching the small of her back with one hand while the other was offered palm up holding her own as he lead her up the stairs. He would position her in the great chair, one stuffed perhaps too much, but would also support her back. If she wished to take off her cloak, would replace it with a fancy brushed wool blend, made somewhere North of Paris. The kettle was already over the fire, a tray waiting in the event Ada would come home, and with both sides of the bed turned down he anticipated it. "I am certain you heard many things, and I would dare say all of them are probably true." Looking up at her then after he poured her a cup, he would kneel just at her side as he handed the tea over. A gloved hand would come to part a bit of his hair to expose the stitches. "Your Peregrine was very brave, we were underground for nearly four days, and I was of little use. He fought hard when we surfaced, and continued to do so well after the battle." Jean-Claude could wager with her that she perhaps had never seen a room as this, with strange gadgets about, with a glass doomed roof, that could open if she wished. Strange glass bottles were upon the shelf, some hidden behind a curtain that could be drawn all about the room if needed, but it was the machine on his table there in many parts that could be a well worked centerpiece in any nightmare. With gears, and rigs; polished silver and roman numerals written in various places.
Rosalind: She would not take such a foolish wager. She had never seen anything quite like it, and spent a moment here and there, looking without touching at this space she didn't quite understand. Rosalind was more educated than most women, but the ability to do sums, read a dead Roman war tactician's memoir, and sing verses in Italian would hardly prepare her for the work Jean-Claude conducted here. She wished she understood it. She wished she had the time to understand it, but this most certainly was not her domain. Impressed, but also ready to take a seat, she settled in where he indicated, and folded her hands across her stomach. Only when seated was her belly visible. Thanks to generous swathes of fabric and the fashion of the day, when she stood, nothing was visible of the ill-timed pregnancy. Her feet throbbed inside her shoes, which were too tight at this point of the day, and the cold weather made her leg ache, but the warmth from the fire was welcoming. It was difficult for her to complain, even when she had a legitimate reason. "So one rumor I heard is true. The Master Voltaire d'Arc has a lover at last." Rosalind's hazel eyes creased with amusement, while the tone of her voice remained light. She was happy for him. Maybe he was not as lonely as she believed him to be. She took the cup of tea, and with her other hand, touched the hair he held back. "Mon Dieu, a lesser man would have died from such a wound. You have very lucky stars indeed. Peregrine tells me nothing of this. We have had other things to talk about," she added for clarification. Perry kept his secrets and she let him do so. She was as able to pin him down on any topic as nail a cloud to the earth. They chose topics that were closer to their level -- immediacy being the most important criteria.
Jean-Claude: A smirk formed over his lips as he took a seat at the foot rest there beside her chair, while the plush one that matched the fabric of her seat would remain empty. "And my stitches gave that away?" He asked with amusement, intruding then on personal space as he would remove her feet from their bindings, and pull the plush ottoman closer. "You should always keep your feet up when they swell, it will help with the circulation of your blood...and better for you means that I will indeed have a blonde haired grandchild." Was that a jest? As he sat back he would put a hand on his knee to look across at her, "My stitches were done by a male hand, if you cannot tell, they are too far apart, and do not go even with the scar..but I am thankful. The man who gave them to me was a very dear man, confused, and jaded. Ghislain, shall be missed..perhaps if only by my pity. Adelaide has not had such kind things to say, but even she has been humbled by this entire experience. Tell me, Rosalind, have you very steady hands?" He would rise then moving back to his work bench to gather his project over the board in which it was pinned in place. Small parts over the cork would be kept there by small nails until they were ready to be assembled.
Rosalind: "Oh, I did not mean to imply, no, I had simply heard in the castle that you have been seen with -- " she drew her feet away from him and set the teacup down lest she spill its contents across her lap. "That you have been seen with Ada," she completed firmly, but her face had gone a horrible shade of gray, and she looked as though she might be sick. So far, she had escaped the morning sickness that had plagued her with Aldric. She was not prepared for this sort of nausea, that started deep within her stomach and made her throat clench instinctively. She pressed her lips together tightly, which he must have mistaken for normal silence as he left for the work bench. She rubbed her hand across her mouth, slowly, feeling her lips under her fingers and only tentatively removing her hand once she was certain the moment had passed. "Do you know his family name, this Ghislain? Was it d'Armagnac?" She didn't have very steady hands now. Whatever he wished, it would have to wait. Perhaps his lover, when she came home and filled the other side of that bed, would be able to help him. But Rosalind's hands were weak and shaky. Where once they made elaborate patterns in linen cloth and made fantastic tableaux for altar cloths, she would not trust herself with a sharp object any more than she trusted herself with the teacup.
Jean-Claude: Jean-Claude simply threw the board back upon the desk the parts scattering, but he cared very little. Her face ran pale, and he to her. "My dear..What is the matter?" He touched her forehead gently with his exposed wrist, "Are you in pain?" She looked it. Kneeling to her side he would not bother with the foot rest taking her free hand, would wait further instruction, but even he could not have been ready for the questions she asked. Jean would shelter her from any pain if he could, take the force of the blow, but this was on a personal level. He could only have the desire to keep from her the truth, but even then..that was not possible. "Yes, Ghislain d'Armagnag of Auvergne, a very important part of My Love's past, and one of the key reasons our city burnt...." He grew quiet suddenly hating Peregrine in this moment for keeping everything from her. "Do you know this man? Rosalind, you are turning pale. Please come lay down." He would help her if she went, or remain where he was seated..but he desperately wanted her to on her back with her feet up He wanted this child she was going to have, perhaps more then they did. He would do anything to protect it, and her mother. With long arms he would not have to reach very far for the soot bucket, ready if she would follow through with what her face dare threatened.
Rosalind: She held her hands up to keep him away. She needed to think. Perhaps that was what she needed to do. She wasn't certain of anything, not even of her stomach's intentions, but she was finding it very hard to breathe, much less concentrate on Jean-Claude's supplied answers. In truth, she did not even need them. She knew Ghislain would have come to Skye eventually. She forced herself to take a deep breath. "I have no fondness for what family members I recently unearthed, but Ghislain was my uncle. And he proved himself a devoted friend of France, and despite arranging my kidnapping, someone who believed he was doing the best for his niece." She closed her eyes and settled back against the chair, needing a moment of quiet to process, despite all Jean-Claude's concern. Finally, after listening to the fire crackle and the wind blowing outside, she stirred. She reached a hand into her bodice, turning slightly away from him for modesty's sake, and pulling out a letter in Ghislain's familiar, spidery scrawl. She had read the note a million times since he gave it to her after rescuing Perry from Paris. She gave the folded item to Jean to read, looking away as he learned what Ghislain and his half-sister had kept secret from the world. D'Evreux had accepted payment for his wife's disappearance not because the payment outweighed his love for Rosalind's mother, but because Rosalind's mother had been pregnant with her lover's, the king of France's, child. Rosalind was as much a bastard as Ghislain was, but at least marriage had secured her some future. Ghislain, scorned by his lover, had nothing. And his claim was as valid as Rosalind's for Auvergne. "He was waiting for my response. I was going to write one.... When I had the time."
Jean-Claude: He let the silence settle between them reading the letter, and taking a deep breath. "I am very sorry, but he did not survive. After the battle we went back to search for bodies..survivors, and found only two. Neither of them of any importance, other then they were thankful for their lives. Very few go against the Lee, and win. In a last bit of heroics he saved us all..let that be a fond thought to remember him by..if there are so few. I owe him these stitches, and perhaps with them my life. Though.." He returned to her the letter, and tried to offer his best attempt at a smile, "stranger things have happened, Rosalind, perhaps we have not seen the last of him yet. Now please..remain here, let me offer you every earthly comfort, while I go fetch your lover from his tree. I am certain he will want to be with you on this night, after knowing what you do." He spoke as he pulled his overcoat on, but and if he doesn't I'll beat the living pulp out of him would have followed had he not kept his lips sealed.
Rosalind: "I know." She sighed deeply and picked up the cup of tea. She took a very small sip, but it was enough to settle her stomach at last. She recalled her few conversations with Ghislain, and how well they had gotten along. They were very much alike, and had not the minor detail of her kidnapping stood in the way, she supposed they might have had an interesting relationship. She would have done a great deal to ensure Ghislain had his place in the world, after all he had done to find Peregrine and ensure her marriage to Aragon could be anulled when she needed it most. "He was heroic. Confused, yes, but.... There was something there." That something was in their shared blood. No ambition to rule or lead; their motivation was not power, merely a place to be free of any obligation save living life to its fullest. That was not such a bad way to lead one's life. She wasn't certain if Peregrine would understand. He had been beside himself when she'd disappeared at the warehouse, ready and willing to burn the port down if she did not reappear where she was most likely to be, sitting before the fire in her suite with Aldric playing with his horses on the rug. But he didn't need to understand. He just needed to be here. She nodded to Jean-Claude's voice, and pressed her cheek to the fabric of the chair. His death was a shock, but she knew even then she would recover quickly. She only had so much room in her heart for regrets, and Ghislain would not be one of them.
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Post by Adelaide d'Aquitaine on Dec 16, 2009 21:29:32 GMT -6
Jean-Claude: Into the night the Frenchman had gone upon the back of a horse, his horse, and finding it impossible his skittish beast would dare move any further then the treeline. Curses in French, left his voice directed towards the chestnut brown thoroughbred, an English show horss that was a gift many moons ago from one of the Lily's. She had thought it strange he walked everywhere, but had little knowledge of the reason. None ever dare look any further then the surface of a very brittle strange man. They would have found themselves lost with little means to understand. He was a puzzle, complex, and insecure--even when it was worn behind a confident smile. "Mon ami..Please.." He would usher the stallion forward to only have it take steps back, and Jean would issue a sigh, "You have got to be kidding me." He muttered under his breath, dismounting and allowing himself to fall away into the night. The path was broken but he knew the way, knowing how many times his captain traveled it could force him to realize how skilled his art had become. Peregrine loved this path, he cherished this tree, and could rest well. However, Rosalind mattered a great deal, and would be one of the very few reasons he would ever break his solitude. "Pere." He called out with his cane raised high, swatting away weeds, and tall grasses, and cursing once his coat was tangled in a bit of briar. "Pere!" Sounded ever so perfectly French in that moment.
Ada: She slept well with the pirate in her arms. He burned hot like he contained his own furnace, and slept with the abandon of a child, even with his head comforted on her full breast. She covered them both with the blanket, and had the best night's sleep that she could remember having in a very long time. That is, until she heard rustling and cursing down below, loud enough it reached the platform high above in the treetops. That cursing sounded like ... "Jean-Claude." She nudged Peregrine. He wasn't very heavy, but he was still sprawled more or less on top of her. She slid out from underneath, taking the blanket with her, and crawled to the edge of the platform. And there he was, looking like a wildman. Funny, it wasn't nearly as attractive as she had imagined in her head, but Jean-Claude was usually correct about such things. Far be it from Ada to doubt the professional in the style department. Her dark hair hid her face momentarily, and she had just less than a minute to determine just what she thought of this very disturbed-looking scientist, and whether it was prudent to make her presence known. It wasn't quite yet. She crawled back to Peregrine's side and shook him gently. "He is covered in weeds and appears very unhappy."
Peregrine: If she could think him a child any less, the next moment would not correct her vision. When she moved out from under him, he made a whimpering sound, perhaps like a baby in the middle of a bad dream, or a puppy who had just been hit in the face. He would give in rolling away to curl the stuffed edge of the skin against his chest rolling to face the night. It would not be until she came back again did he open one eye slightly, and mutter of five more minutes.
Jean-Claude: "Peregrine Dal'Keith, it is Rosalind! I had little idea of this small world, but it turns out Ghislain was her uncle. She is very distraught!" He would call hearing only silence, but finally a little halo of blond would appear.
Peregrine: All it would take would be her name, and he was up. Touching Ada's cheek lightly he would kiss her lips fully, a silent thank you before he would make his way down..gone..if only for a moment before peaking his head up. "You should wait until he leaves..He would be very upset you saw his hair messed up." The pirate teased, blowing her another kiss before finding his feet on the ground. Words were passed between them, before the pirate was off running through the woods, and rushing down the path. Hell he would even steal the horse!
Jean-Claude: Jean-Claude would take a deep breath, closing his hands over his cane watching the little sprite do as he did best..run, but when the world fell silent he could not help but listen. Every bird and creature of the night fell deaf, waiting and trembling as they watched this man, wondering what his next move would be. "You cannot hide from me, Child, I know you are up there." He spoke very calmly, letting his face tip back enough to watch the platform for his lover.
Ada: Ada stretched after Peregrine left, pulling the blanket around her and trying to warm chilled flesh. She was surprised to find Ghislain had a relation in Rosalind. The world was very small indeed. Ghislain had never mentioned family. He had never mentioned anything of his origins. She had always known him as a proud knight and servant of France, with lands gained in wars and tournaments, and given as gifts from his lover. Valois would have been just as generous with Ada if she had ever let him, but she always turned the king down. What will I do with land? she'd asked him with an arch of the brow and a hand on her hip. Marry? Have children? Certainly not. Ada was not the marrying kind. She poked her head back over the platform, sweeping her hair out of her face so that he could see her. "You should come up," she said with a smile. "Peregrine left me unsatisfied, but you and I have yet to make love under the heavens." He couldn't see the usual glitter that accompanied such jokes, but her voice teased lightly, and her face soon disappeared from the edge of the platform. She climbed down as quickly as she could, and was more than a little grateful to put her feet on firm earth again. Trees swayed in the wind, no matter how sturdy their bases. "He was worried you would be angry if I saw you so discomposed."
Jean-Claude: Time would not pass so swiftly if she was not so resistant, but for this he was thankful when she met the ground quickly. Ada never ceased to surprise him, but he was certain she would be his death. "Old age my dear has set in far too soon for me I fear, and I have little desire to climb that tree or any for the matter." He would stand tall, combing his fingers through his hair, but realizing that the wind made it nearly impossible to keep them straight. "I would rather see it cut down, then reach the top. It would make a fine set of stairs, and perhaps then I could say I have climbed." He was very serious. "My window opens to the heavens, let that be enough. Now please. I beg you. For the sake of us all, let you not temp him any further. Adelaide, you are very skilled at what you do, and I would wager if you chose another career path seducer would fit you well. A harlot, perhaps best. I would hope you would see reason behind my words, and not take them to heart. You are a very fine woman, who makes herself easy. Let us not forget that if he ruins this with his other, then I will venture off with him." Was he scolding her? Yes.
Ada: Ada was listening to him, of course, but something about his appearance was bothering her, and not in a good way. She motioned for him to turn around, even as he was scolding her, and pulled a piece of leather lacing out of her pocket. One would assume it was a broken lacing from her bodice, but they would assume incorrectly. Ada never ripped her bodices -- it was an expensive habit that she certainly could not afford, even with a couturier for a lover. She ran her hands expertly through his long hair, and began braiding the black strands into a tight queue that would have to do until he reached his hair brush. Then she tugged the lacing into place and stepped back, lightly touching his shoulders to turn him around again. "He has not been sleeping. He came to me for help, and I know it is a burden to do what I do, but I am not one to refuse aid." She arched a brow at him, then shook her head. It was time to be serious. "He is not certain that the child is his. She still keeps a secret from him, but it does not affect the paternity of that infant." By the tone of her voice, he would know she was not playing. She knew. She had seen it, and it was one of the few things she understood with absolute, unwavering certainty. "Only in storybooks do women know with such conviction that the child born between two different partners must be of one's seed, but I know. He should sleep easier. As for Peregrine, have faith, my love. I offered him this, and all he did was fall asleep on top of me, so what must I believe, save he is deeply, perhaps foolishly, and wonderfully in love with that lady of his. And you cannot insult me, Jean, I have heard it all before. Shall we?" She offered her arm to him.
Jean-Claude: He would laugh then throwing back his head, in a sound that saw right through her. "Ada, do not think me such a shut in, I have noticed how he looks at you. I am aware of how all look at you, and if I had it my way you would cover your face with a brown sack, but even then I know I fool only myself. Do not think me a jealous man, Ada..I simply am one who has fallen in love with his life, and think me selfish all you wish. I do not want to leave, at least for a very long time. Trees are not a place I wish to find you.." He curled her hand under his arm, and would start to lead them away. "But of all in the world I trust very little then that one." He would offer her a look, before taking a deep breath. "I know his place, I can feel it, I know him like he were of my blood. I see his suffering, and I wish to help..but how can I? He must stand on his own, and fall without my arms being there. I have cleaned up behind that man far too many times. I'm not pestered by his constant questions, he is content going to Rosalind, but even now..I must be the one to tell her of what happened?" Jean sighed shaking his head, "He is not open with her, and that will be what separates them, not the child or it's true father." They walked in silence for a moment, and he tried to take in the world around him. "It is a beautiful night, but I am not so blind as to know what the attraction is to my pirate. I have little desire to be out here, and this is part of who you are...all that I can offer you is that..I will try."
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Post by Peregrine Inveryne-Lamont on Dec 17, 2009 20:33:53 GMT -6
Samhain was on a full moon, and Ada felt the gate creaking open. It was not a night to be spent under a roof. It was not one to be spent in a cave, no matter how lushly decorated. She left Jean-Claude a stack of papers she had been working on, a design based off the leaf pattern of one of her favorite herbs, and a combination that seemed to be working well against infection. Her subjects were the dock ladies, those most often afflicted with disease from passing sailors, and desperate to try anything after creams and salves failed. If it spread to their faces, their usually short careers would become even shorter, as a whore without a nose did not make much coin to survive. She thought it was a research project that would keep him busy through the night, and so after setting out a bottle of wine, and a plate of food from the Briar Rose, and leaving a note about the holy day, went back to her shop to grab the few items that had not been boxed up and removed from her altar. She sheathed her atheme, a beautiful if simple ceremonial dagger with wickedly sharp edges, and placed it in the bag with the other contents, grabbed a cloak, and left for the woods. There had to be a clearing big enough for the bonfire she wished to construct, and soon enough, she found one that was isolated enough for her purposes. She spent the afternoon throwing logs into the pile and then fanning the flames, and made her altar on a tree stump, setting out her materials and beginning her prayers. The door swung a little wider, and she was unprepared for the energy that flickered through her. She hated doing ceremonies alone. *
The last of the leaves, fell from branches too full from the wet summer. One by one the passing colors fell, from green to gold--to their death, or so he felt. Autumn was glorious in her manner, but it was Winter he favored most, for it meant her death. The cold bitter chill of the Northern winds took hold of the day, but it was the long night that captured the sun. With the veiling of the evening, it had become too late to turn back. The wild was calling, beating like a drum inside his chest he heard the full moon's rise by the way of the trees reaching out, and the windows wicked moan. All day he had been gone, in the company of those a mortal could not possess. Woodland creatures and ancient spirits could walk upon the earth hand in hand, how could he not follow? The song of the birds filled the woods in deep rich somber sounds celebrating the arrival of the new year, and wishing well for one just as the last. The fires on the hills were often spoken about, but in the night's celebration who would dare judge those who lived so freely. Somewhere between the realm he heard her voice, even with lush vivid lips sealed, and he could hear her heartbeat follow behind delicate thoughts. How Ada could bespell event he wicked! It was no secret what turned the heads of many, but what was that drew the truly unholy into her circle. The forest was alive with many voices, but it was only hears he could hear--drawn forward until the dawn of the circle was present, and he would take to the trees. From branch to branch, silently he walked crouching behind the shadows of the woven way, but the moon wickedly alive under his eyes. A hunters gathering, and she the prize..always. He would be content watching, but could not help with wonder..should she be alone this deep in the forest? (d
She lit the last candle and set it down, facing the bonfire with arms folded beneath her chest. "Where the firelight touches, I am safe. Let no harm cross the boundary, may no evil find me tonight." Ada settled down on the blanket she had spread out, and put down a plate for her guest. She spent considerable time finding food she supposed She lit the last candle and set it down, facing the bonfire with arms folded beneath her chest. "Where the firelight touches, I am safe. Let no harm cross the boundary, may no evil find me tonight." Ada settled down on the blanket she had spread out, and put down a plate for her guest. She spent considerable time finding food she supposed. Ghislain would enjoy, and even smiled as she uncovered the salmon and sauced it with the butter-herb concoction the inn keeper had recommended. She poured him a cup of wine, set out fine silverware, and then finally prepared her own much simpler meal of bread, pickled mushrooms, and dried fruit. It did not seem enough to sustain a person, but Ada ate all day long, and very rarely had a large meal. She was intentionally quiet as she ate, listening to the sounds of the forest, with head slightly canted. She was waiting for Ghislain; no other spirits had ever visited her before, not even that of her mother. Benoit did not have time in his busy afterlife to visit the living, and she had an odd feeling that if he did have time, there would be a line of others he would wish to see before saying anything to Ada. But then again, he was not a man to leave much unsaid. Whatever he wanted to say to Ada, he had already said, in one way or another. She was comfortable knowing she had been loved, and even if she'd had to fight for it, respected as a fellow scientist. But Ghislain -- he had so much left to say. She wanted to hear him call her names again, she wanted to curse at him, she wanted to tell him she was sorry, she wanted to not care about his passing as much as she did. She put away her own dinner and climbed to her feet, walking closer toward the fire. The door was opening wider. She went back to her altar and found a piece of paper, and began writing down names. It was at the end of one of those names that she heard the tree creak behind her. But with night vision destroyed by the warm light of the bonfire, she saw nothing but shadows, and went back to the paper. Jean would be miserable sleeping out here tonight, but she suddenly wished he was present. She wished anyone was present. Samhain wasn't meant to be spent alone. Such deep reflection required a chaser of laughter, a reminder of life for the living. *
It was easy to watch her with eyes that could see clearly in the night, but in this moment he listened only, eyes closed from the world. He could hear the world around him, and listen for motions, words, thoughts passing about in the autumn air, felt from within. Chills chased him when the pirate realized they were not alone, but the voice of a man lost had him wonder...as all prank fell away. His eyes could see many things, beyond those of the few around, but without being inside her circle he could hear only the soft spoken replies, and the whispers of the trees around her. "Who were you talking to?" A voice spoke from the trees, in a soft somber tone, and never one he had ever offered her. Like a cat perched upon the branch only the light in his eyes could be made out, until the wind pulled back the branches and let the silver light shine through offering her his silhouette. (d
Ghislain came. She knew it was him by the way he tugged the hair at the nape of her neck, and trailed his fingers down her spine. He let his hand rest much lower than it had a right to. This time, instead of hissing at him to remove it, she closed her eyes and tilted her head skyward. Their conversation was brief, but it had no need to be longer. He told her what she needed to hear, and she told him goodbye. There would be no other visitors tonight, so when he left, she opened her eyes and tried to dispel whatever sadness Ghislain had brought with him. He was at peace. She was still alive. And she was being watched. She picked up the atheme from her tree stump altar, but her grip slackened almost immediately when she recognized the voice and then the silhouette in the tree. "Come into the circle, Pere. You should not be out in the shadows on this evening."Ada was not always logical, but her advice usually carried some pragmatism that most heeded. Those that did not quickly learned that Ada never advised others wrongly. He may be the prince of the forest, but he should be aware that he was not alone in the shadows, and evil spirits roamed beyond the glow of the candles in the four points spread around the bonfire. He might choose to ignore her wisdom, so instead, she pulled from her pocket a flask of liquor and move it so that the metal appeared liquid in the firelight. But then she paused, already trying to find words she thought would be difficult to say. She shook her head slightly and turned back to the fire. Come or go, it was up to him. She would prefer the company, even if it was a bit like playing with fire. *
Her words caught him, found him slipping to the ground, but with hands folded before him--shy. "I do not want to interrupt..Adelaide, but you will have to forgive me. I'm drawn to you." Honest words powered by the blood that boiled in his veins, and flowed freely from his heart. "I convinced it must be a spell." Followed by a small hint of a smile, the first to be offered on the entire day. Silence fell over him, and a noble posture pulled at his spine, and he would raise his chin in natural habit, no matter how old it may be, "Explain this circle." The pirate would have jumped in, head first, but the Prince would dare not. He eyed her as he stood just outside it, "Do you speak to the spirits? Can you see them? Who were you talking to? Will I see them? Or is this just a ring of protection?" The poise fell away as he grinned, smirked more of his own bravery, "I fear very little outside this ring..but inside. I fear that the most." (d
"I do not cast those sorts of spells," she replied, and set the dagger down on the tree stump. It gleamed there dangerously among the other items on her altar. A bit of jewelry, dried lavender blossoms, a buckle from a man's boot. The rolled up pieces of paper. It looked like junk, but they were all precious to Ada. Ada never forgot, even if she did a very good job of making others forget. She walked to the edge of the circle's light, and took Peregrine's hands in her own. "You should trust me. Whether you fear what is outside the circle or not is irrelevant. There is evil abroad tonight." She smiled a bit, then turned to indicate the candles. "It is a circle of protection. To the north," she cursed, then grinned, and pointed to the correct candle, "to the north, the south, the east, and west. They are watching tonight, the Lord and Lady, and those that came before in these lands. I am a visitor. And so are you. We should respect them tonight, of any night, particularly when strange ghosts are walking." She removed her hands, and in her place, left the flask of liquor. He had no need to elaborate what he feared within the firelight. She felt it, too. It was like the door flung open all at once, and she did not trust herself not to fling her body through it, fully aware of what danger and wonder was on the other side. Touching him had not helped. "If I tell you who I was talking to, I do not think you would wish to follow me into the candlelight. And I do not want to be alone right now. If you have not noticed already, I do not like to be alone." She glanced over her shoulder at him, then turned back to the fire. "It is a new year, pirate. What regrets would you cast in the flames tonight?" *
Her hand felt like warm silk pulled over his bare skin, and he had to catch his breath. He felt his chest tighten around his heart, and the pulse rush to his ears. He would follow her, walking into her circle he felt relief let go as air returned to his lungs. As she lead him in further he would still her gently pulling on her hand for her to face him. If she turned she would see only his body facing the closed circle, the ring of protection lined by shells of souls lost. His demons that followed him everywhere, where there with their translucent skin, and shallow eyes: three of them at first, and then four. With his eyes closed he hung his head, to only smile. "I cannot hear them.." Opening his eyes he would look over the fire, and heaving a deep breath. "So long as you have me, you will never have reason to be alone." His eyes ventured forward then, watching the heavens above them seem so peaceful without the following ghosts he had grown to ignore. "Someday I'll take you home, I think...Jean-Claude will not go, could you be without him?" He would find a seat by the fire going over her alter with little looks, "Perhaps that shall be your first regret. Not walking this life sooner? I could have brought him to you many years ago, had I known you would make him this happy." (d
"If you had told me before about your ghosts, perhaps I could have done something." She settled behind him on her knees, and wrapped her arms around him. He was so easy to draw against her, resisting like water, his upper body burning hotter than hers, as if he carried his own fire with him wherever he went. While he spoke, she looked up through the empty space between the crowded trees surrounding the clearing, and studied the stars above. "You should not talk like that," she said at last. "You do not get to tell me I will never be alone. While you are with me, what of Rosalind? Does not she fear to be alone?" She was never so direct. Tonight was different. Her heart was pounding at the prospect of having known Jean earlier, but was still sore at saying goodbye to Ghislain moments ago. And the blood in her veins burned hot not for any of the men she had already committed herself to, but for yet another. Not just any other, though. It would have been so much easier if it had been any other. "I have so many to keep my company," she whispered, as if to soothe how harsh her last words had been. "Never worry about me, Pere. If I tell you my regret, will you tell me yours?" *
He was quiet, listening to her letting her finish her questions before answering any, but before he could even speak..he had to tell her, tell someone. "I do not think they are ghosts, but memories. Reminders, that this life is a lie." A small attempt to look at her was restricted by his shoulder, but at best he could he would take in the sight of her. "Suddenly you find the need to remind me too." He smirked slightly letting his head fall back to settle with ease against her. "Perhaps had I come here sooner, I.." He would snap his lips closed, sealing away words that he wasn't even sure he meant. "Rosalind would have been dead had the events not passed. Her husband would have killed her. I saw it one night in a dream. Years ago, I watched a man beat his wife in the North wing of a castle. I woke when the skull of the woman was broke in." He closed his eyes taking a deep breath, "I'm going to take care of her." He finally whispered to more remind himself of the promise he made to his love, asleep in her castle. The topic of regret passed before him, and he would pull away from her to turn to face her pulling his legs under him. "Just so long as your regrets don't start with, 'Well Jean-Claude has this friend, he's hot, and I should have.." He trailed off with his jest laughing then at his own joke, having always found humor in everything. (d
He had the most infuriating way of avoiding answers to direct questions, while answering the indirect questions she had not managed to ask yet. It made her want to shake the answers out of him. To have them fall upon the ground, where she could read them like oracle bones on this night, when the veil between the living and the dead was at its thinnest. Instead, she listened. She held her arms around him, pressed her chin to his shoulder to see what he saw, and listened."I used to think, when I was very young and a little touched in the head, that experiences such as those prepared us for our future. If we can learn from our mistakes, we will not make those same mistakes again. But I have learned life throws at us not the same mistakes, but new ones, with new consequences, infinitely more complicated than we ever could have imagined. The heartache is new, it is fresh, and yet we carry with us these spirits of the past. Regrets. If it was so easy to throw them into the fire as a piece of paper, would not our lives be infinitely freer?" She kissed his cheek, and let her arms fall when he shifted to face her. She knew better than to ask him more about Rosalind. So she let the subject trail away, and reached for the papers on the stump, as well as a kohl stick for him. She showed him one of the pieces of paper. "I never regret loving others. For I do so with a full and open heart, and usually a clear mind. How can you regret love? I only regret the endings." She was usually left alone, without any clear reason as to why it fell apart, just that she would never revisit that bed in this life. Written on the piece of paper was the name of the man who had most recently left her. "Ren. Perhaps he will come back, but I doubt it will have anything to do with love. He will want his clothes back." She paused a moment, then looked at him. "Jean-Claude knows. And even gives his blessing. As long as I come home to him, and you go home to Rosalind." *
Peregrine listened to her, taking in each word as if it were her last, and putting to rest any reason to not love her any further. His heart hurt for her, and he would wonder if she made it so. "Is this the first time someone has left you?" He asked quietly, a breathless question that was carefully positioned in a delicate manner. Ada was opening up to him, letting him be in her circle, and he knew very well that even Jean-Claude would not step foot upon this path. When her dark eyes looked up at him, the pout in her lips was almost too much. He felt the heat he carried only rise, and quickly occupied his hands with her own--and the papers. "Maybe this is not something you should burn yet. Perhaps, the whole not telling anyone you had an enemy like the past one should come first..or perhaps the not banging the pirate in the tree hmm?" He tried to lighten her heart, but knew his words to be half empty. He hurt for her, as he had only ever been left once, and in damn near killed him. "Maybe it should not be a regret..but a celebration as look to what this love has brought you." He looked down at the paper once more letting it return to its owner, "Though..I know the Greeks to not be very forgiving or understanding."Hell I still can't sit right." (d
"It is over." She shrugged, and took the papers. She gave him a blank sheet and the stick of kohl. "No, it is not the first time. We could talk about my father, who left when I was twelve. We could talk about my mother, who could not live without him, and died when I was sixteen. The village believes she was struck with fever, but my mother, she was very good at keeping inventory. She marked the bottles." Ada gently raked her fingers through her hair, but didn't turn away from Peregrine. No matter where she looked, he saw through her. "Let us not talk about the string of lovers in Paris, the King of France and his lover. And now Ren, who is too hurt to let himself feel angry. It would make him feel better to shout at me. It would make me feel better to know he cared at all. But instead he leaves, without a word, and all his clothes are in the trunk at the foot of my bed." She stood up, folded the piece of paper with his name on it, and fed it into the bonfire. "I do not regret loving anyone, Peregrine. I had a wonderful time with him. But I will be no man's wife and I will be mother to no children." She sat down again. "Ghislain was not an enemy. Neither was Gauthier. I knew Ghislain's heart like my own, and Gauthier's, I did not understand until too late. I..." she faltered for a moment, pressing her lips together to think. "You should write yours down. Just because you burn it does not mean you ignore what good your regret has given you. It feels good." *
"You what?" He asked her wanting her to pick up where she left off, listening as he took the paper and the kohl. He fell silent for a moment, looking down at he blank paper and wondering where to start. He held many regrets, always would, but that came with the lifestyle. How many lives had been taken because of him? How many hearts had he broke? Bones? Over the paper he would start, but not a single letter would fall upon the space. The Pirate would doodle. "And you are happy now?" He asked breaking the silence once more. "He would never leave you, Ada..he has no where to go. No family, I'm his only friend, and frankly..I have a hard time getting him to leave his shop. Jean does not do the outside world very well, if you have not noticed." The scene would start to take shape, rolling hills one after the other, under little drawn stars that looked like something Aldric would draw. It had meaning once, but now was just a memory. "Sometimes I regret Rosalind, I had only wished to open her eyes, make her see past her world, take my hand you know?" He met her eyes then, speaking the truth, "I regret it because, as vain as I am, I'm not good enough for her. I bring her name down, and where that would not have bothered me before..now..I..well it does. Not bad enough, but enough I'm trying to change. So let me make that this years promise hmm?" (d
"I should have seen it." She completed the thought with the sort of leaden finality that wasn't easily challenged. She put that piece of paper into the fire. There were reasons why she had not seen the change in Gauthier, and she could not prevent what happened when he came to Skye. She would not have changed anything she said or did. She would not have Gauthier die, simply because he called her a whore. She had been called worse, and laughed in response. When she came back, she touched Peregrine's shoulder, easing him back onto the blanket. "You are good enough for her. Would I tell a man he is something he is certainly not? I am many things, but I am not a liar. I am not a flatterer. You are good enough for her. Telling yourself you are anything less excuses behavior you know would disappoint her." She swept her thumb across his brow, smoothing it down, and then pressed a kiss to it. "Jean tells me you are good to no one without her. Half a man, and the dangerous half. And without Jean? I feel I am the same way." She smiled. "He makes me very happy. Almost foolishly so. It is usually that I tire of my partners and that passion? It goes away. But every day I wake, and I see his face, I feel.... I feel that love grow." She slid her leg over him, balancing her weight above his hips, her head canted momentarily to hear an owl hooting in the distance. Evil spirits were abroad tonight, indeed. But the candles at the four cardinal directions were still burning strong. *
Peregrine had always been submissive, and simply went right along; allowing himself to be pressed back, and enjoying it really. "He is not up before you?" He smiled catching her eye, but as well following her line of sight. "It is a strange love..I will admit that. Rosalind, and I. I am not certain of the moment I fell for her, but I know I tried very hard not to. I have pulled women out of worse, men as well, with Jean I grew attached. Rosalind..I fell in love, and hard." He closed his eyes with the touch of her leg, heaving a small sound. "JC has a way of pulling you back in no?" He chuckled, but fell silent wondering suddenly of her plans, if she did not marry or have children..then what? "You two spend a lot of time up in his workplace or yours, making him glow like a firefly, but what is next? Do you talk of the future?" He knew Jean to live in the moment, as he had learned quickly, but he still had to worry. The full moon brought much light over the clearing, playing games with the shadows that moved in the fire, and he could not help but wrap her up further. "Maybe when I build Rosie's house, I'll build you both a tower..oh, or a lighthouse, you can keep it lit." (d
"Always, but I am also up with the sun. We do not all sleep until the day is half over, and turn in just before dawn, hm?" She arched a brow. "We do not talk about the future. But what is there to talk about? Does he wish to marry? I would feel very strange uttering vows about purity and loving no other but him, if I do not intend to keep them. Nor would he want me to, don't you think? If it made me sad and miserable, if it kept me from being true to myself? We can live this way for the rest of our lives and I would be more than content. But I should ask him. I should." She leaned down and kissed him. It was not the light, tender kisses she usually gave him, but something deeper, more primal. She wove her fingers in his hair. Here, on the cusp of the worlds of living and dead, she felt herself teetering, anchored by the wilderness surrounding, tethered here by the feeling of him beneath her. Finally, she pulled away, and sat upright again, trying to catch her breath and failing. The moonlight made the clearing glow, but the firelight made him a creature of copper and gold, and strange shadows danced in his eyes. "Very funny, pirate. Build us a great big space for a lab, and I think he may move anywhere. Except the sea, it is bad for his leg." *
"Or France, you can't..uh...mmm..ever..go..Ada." He cried out when she ran her hand through his hair with her kiss, until heat rushed him, and he would arch his back. "Torture!" He cried out, "You temptress, gods!" He sat up then, putting her bottom back down on the ground. "Jesus, Ada." He stood up running a hand through his hair, while the other planted very well upon his hip as he passed back and forth. "Stop doing that hmm?" He grinned, as his shoulders shook with chills. "I feed off that passion. You have to be careful. It is not the same, for you..or is it?" He knew how stupid he sounded, "It is like wine, thick red wine the love of another. Like a spell. Magic...and Rosie, she's big you know? Round." Lord he couldn't even talk, "We go further in between without...well..it's uncomfortable for her." He threw his hands up still with his pacing, "Kinda is for me too. Strange knowing..yeah.." Pointing to her then he would narrow his eyes on her, and that creature would only come alive again. "Don't do that again." Lord he needed a smoke, or so he thought as he knelt beside the trunk once more to write out this sin and put in the fire. "Let's not talk to JC about getting married ok?" He would then start writing out his sin over and over, like a child punished in a classroom, 'I will not F*ck behind my baby momma's back' over and over. "He's a traditionalist." Not once would he look at her, "He'll want to take you to his parents, and he thinks..they think.. he's dead." Keep that straight, "and what I'm about to tell you can never leave your lips." His eyes met hers, dark and frustrated, with desire that could not be quenched. "I wrote his parents over and over, telling them of his whereabouts. Not once did I get a letter back. I feared something had happened to them, that perhaps they too had fallen victim to the church, or maybe my letters were being lost. I wrote them explaining that he was safe, that he needed a better place to heal, that if they wished I would bring him there..anywhere but the sea. I went to shore to the estate where he was born. I called upon his family, they were happy to take me in, but let me tell you I was in my best, and it was not even close to their standards. His girl-thingy mother, explained that they had no son, that the man on my ship must have been a heretic, they knew of no one by his name. That those in the fires deserved what they got, and that my ship should burn too. She said she would do it herself if I did not leave. Threw me off." Peregrine took a deep breath, setting back on his knees, "There was a painting over the fireplace where his father set stone silent, of three of them. His mother, his father, and sister. In happy memories of being by that fireplace as a child, Jean told me of the painting and how he was very pleased to be as tall as his father in it. Well the second artist who was commissioned to paint over, forgot to paint over his shadow. Eerie really." The sexual frustration turned to flat anger, and deep love for his companion. "So you can't go back there ok? It would break him apart." (d He was grinning, but she felt mortified. She sat on the ground as if he had thrown her there, attempting to recover her dignity. Her skin felt like it was on fire, though. She still felt as if she might crash headlong through the open gateway, a dizzying sort of feeling that now had no anchor. The trees overhead suddenly felt intimidating, and the wild spirits walking freely this night seemed much more vicious. She ran her hand across her face, looking away from Pere, though she still listened to him. "His parents." She could not speak without lapsing into her Parisian gutter rat patois, so full of expletives it was barely a language, though it had plenty of verbs. She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, absently picking off a leaf that stuck to the bottom of her skirts. "He is talking about going home. He misses it. But I think he is aware of his parents, how they will treat him." She pressed her hand to her eyes. "They beat him, Pere. They left him to burn. How could they not see how beautiful and intelligent he was? Did they wish a deaf and dumb child, if it meant he was more biddable to their empire-building? He has spent his life looking for perfection, an unattainable ideal that he thinks is just within reach. That it is a personal failing that he cannot be that man they want him to be. And all I want to do is hold him, and tell him he is better than that ideal. Of course, my words do not mean nearly as much as their approval." She sighed. She wished the blood would stop throbbing in her ears. "You cannot make love to her in certain ways. She is still afraid of her ghosts. Though it would be infinitely more comfortable for her, it is not something she can do."Ada smiled faintly, though dark eyes were clearly deep in thought. "She needs a new lady's maid. I will send a girl to the castle. No, do not give me that look -- she will be very proper and properly trained. Still a whore, but a useful one. And you need to spend more nights in her bed, and not up in a tree." * "They saw it Ada, they paid for his schooling. He is their only son, and first born. That entire estate will be his in their passing. His sister is a whore who gambles their money away, trust me I got a new header, and a good night out of that one. She was so beautiful I should have known it was her...hell I probably wouldn't have said no even then. She was a lot like you, she liked it..how I like it, and trust me I wouldn't even start on Rosalind, she's had it hard." No pun intended. "But you know how sometimes you just wanna be thrown around a bit? Get the leather out, and.." He stilled himself admitting perhaps too much to her, and laughing. "She does need a new maid, and I know I know, after tonight I will, this is just my favorite time you know? Save for Spring. This is Autumn's death. My last time out in the world before winter sets in. I won't leave her then." (d "His sister sounds very interesting. Do you suppose she likes women?" The deadpan was interrupted by a grin from Ada. She put her hands behind her and rested her weight upon them, letting her eyes track Perry. "I do. And Jean-Claude, I do love him dearly, and he is a very good lover, but.... I think it would kill him if I asked him to tie me up." There were a few visions of conversations with Jean about the bedroom that could instantly reduce Ada to giggles, so she tried not to think about them just then. "So I understand. Maybe this maid, she will not work miracles, but she will help. Trust me? It is the point of Samhain. The world is dying, but she will come back again. Now is the time for the God of the Hunt, for death, for sleep. He is a necessary aspect, just as ... a little roughness in love. Rosalind, it is fresh in her mind for her. It will take time." It was difficult, at first, to imagine Perry as a patient man, but he had already proven himself to be. That, or a eunuch. Ada frowned at the thought, not at all bitter at the rejection, but then smiled at a memory of a recent conversation with Jean-Claude. "I told Jean I would go with him. Wherever he goes, I go. But I think, if I go, I will have to find that book with all the horrible spells in it Benoit would not let me even look at. Wherever it went. Oh! It was taken to your home, no? That night we went together, and I brought my altar with us."
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Post by Peregrine Inveryne-Lamont on Dec 27, 2009 21:28:03 GMT -6
(The Next Evening) Her run slowed to a walk when the trees began to close in overhead, and the stars she worshiped burned more brightly as Turas Lan and its torchlight bleeding into the night sky faded behind her. Leaves were wet, smelling of decay, beneath her feet, and where another would lose herself entirely in this maze of trees and underbrush, Ada walked the path as if the partial moon shone just for her. She felt the gateway creak open for her once again, welcoming her back into the world of the Seeing, when she had been blinded by the influence of red wine for too long. Like welcoming the prodigal daughter, she came right back to her strangely usual state of existence perched between two worlds. She began to shake free of the burning anger, and merely accepted this state of existence, where neither good nor evil were present, neither God nor demon held influence here, merely the primordial beings too old to mind the wanderings of even an old soul like the milkmaid from Embrun. She was close enough to Peregrine's tree. She swept her skirts under her as she took a seat on a log, easing one leg along the fallen tree and reaching in the hollow for one of her pan flutes. Her fingers closed around the polished cedar, and she examined it briefly before drawing it to her lips. The heavens burst behind his eyes, opening into another world and time as he followed the second star to the right--until morning. In the distance the horizon broke, with the outline of the mountain with the sun rising, he had arrived. Neverland was as it should be, with the tall white mountain, the castle carved against it's face, and the sound of laughter spilling from a little girl's lips. The halls were polished once again, the marble floor glistening with the dawn, and she was safe there in his arms. He held his daughter tight, even when the quake would start, the rumbling sound of the crumbling mountain coming down around them--and still she smiled. 'This is what is supposed to happen, Daddy,' The little golden haired child, whose thick strands burned a soft red in the light, said while her chubby little hands held his face, 'Don't you remember? This is what happens when you don't come back.' His hands held as he tried to protest, this dream just like the rest, until it nothing but blood. From her eyes she cried red tears, until nothing was left but a pile of bloody bones. However, tonight the visit would cease if only for a moment, while the world fell around him he heard the flight of fancy, the sweet sounds of Ada's pipes. His cries were silenced, though the tears had not stopped, as the pirate sat up from his bed; shivering. Pulling his knees to his bare chest, he would wipe the salty moisture from his face, and brush back the matted curls from his eyes. Was he still dreaming? The air was cold, this he found easy to realize from the moisture that had collected over his form, and he drew the blanket around his shoulders as he perched to listen to her song--feet dangling from his tree house. His creased, tired face could easily be replaced with a soft smile as he pressed his head against the doorway, "You have come to read my cards again, witch?" He played into their little facade, but his grin was careless once more, "Or just come to get your bearskin back?" Her song was the wind moving through the trees. The last sigh between lovers. It was darkness, it was the dawn coming, it was earthy and warm. It did not have a name and it did not need one, only Ada's fingers to cover the holes as she played for the night, and a certain pirate asleep high above in his tree. She was not aware of how long she played, nor did she realize when he was awake, staring down at her from the doorway with a strange shine on his face, though the grin was recognizable. She set the pipes down upon her lap and leaned back, bracing her weight on one hand while the other lightly fingered the shining wood. "The cards are yours. They were a gift. But if you would like your fortune told, I am certain to oblige." Ada had a very strange set of rules. She violated them when necessary and atoned in her own way, but she rarely ever said no to a genuine proposition. Of any flavor. She glanced up at him. "You can keep the bear skin. I have no need of animal skins when I do not myself eat meat." It was a fundamental flaw in her lover's logic, one she had been too polite to point out. But of all the differences that proved too much, his profession was the least offensive. "I imagine the bear is quite cold, no?" she teased. Lord, there wasn't another--Ada was captivating, "You can come up and see..but I've been pretty good about keeping it warm.." He returned with a coy grin, looking down to her then with a brow arched. "You would have little need to read my fortune, I know how it all ends." He spoke a bit more sober then, laughing as he did. "Everything dies, even tree spirits. Though they promise they won't, Ada..Would you still love me if I were ugly? Old and wrinkled, with a space between my teeth, and a curve in my spine?" He spoke in riddles again, but the pirate knew very little of anything else. "You would come keep my bearskin warm yes? When I could not?" Running a hand through his hair as it dried he found himself looking out to the moon, "If I told you a secret would you keep it?" His eyes returned to hers, as he stood to walk out upon the branch, still with the blanket pulled over his shoulders. "If I told you I'd jump would you try and stop me? Break my fall?" The branch was old, and it cried out from under him the sounds of the wind carried a moan over the spaces in the trees, and the night's pulse only sharpened."I do not want to come up tonight, Pere," Ada said, her own voice sounding like the pan flute now, a wash of wind through a dead tree. She slid her fingers down the polished wood, slowly, then stopped. There was something very real about Peregrine tonight, something she was not certain she wished to challenge. Yet the door swung wider, the gateway let her in with a wash of light, and she heard its encouragement sparkling in her ear. "And I do not want to sleep on the skin again. It has too many memories of another lover." He walked toward the edge, and Ada watched him as if he was the only one in the world. Tonight, it certainly felt as if they were the only two that existed, with all falling away to shadow beyond the trees. Their voices silenced the night animals, but not the wind. She looked skyward again, where the stars were still burning bright, despite the change in weather. It had started out as a warm day, but now the chill of winter crept forward again, seeping through the thick fabric of her shawl and making her legs feel as if they were covered in ice. "I would love you when you are old and gray. I would love you with a curved spine and missing teeth. But will you ever arrive in such a state, will you ever decline so with the rest of the world? The better question is, will you, son of another place, always seeking his return from exile, love me when I am old and gray? When I begin to sag? When my hips fill out and my feet turn in and the only song I sing is the whistle between my teeth when I breathe? Will you?" There was something in Ada's voice that hinted this future, as well, was not hers to claim. There was only one state of existence for Ada, on the balance between Maid and Mother, neither one nor the other. "Pere.... I already know." There was an unspoken plea from Ada. He could come down without jumping. She would still be here for him. Did he not see how much he frightened and yet attracted her? She was a moth to his candle, and he burned so brightly, even in the wake of blood-drenched dreams. The tree was silent, without its son, as the life that fled from it's branches swayed to put out the light. The candles burnt out, and the branches returned to their gentle sway in the autumn wind. Yet, the longing could never die, and the sounds of her whispers remained. The forest grew quiet, eerie as the night opened around it, but the flaunting songs of ancients gone would cease...until he touched her arm. From behind he would capture her, hold her there with hands that would never harm her, but could promise to keep her just where she stood. He pressed her back against his chest, running his bare hand up her arm under her shawl, until he could thumb his fingers over the exposed skin of her shoulder, tipping her body just enough his lips could brush the tender flesh of her ear. "Yes," He whispered with closed eyes, "I would love you for all of time, until even the mountains could crumble at our feet." His voice whispered against her skin, hot air across cool flesh, and the pulsing warmth below could be his death. Ada had her hair up, and would find her neck victim to his lips as he kissed down the curve of her spine. Peregrine took a deep breath, as his free hand came to collect her hip, drawing her back against him further--his desire outlined very clearly. "What is it you want?" He spoke then in a darkened voice.How could she be certain of where he went, when shadows closed around him, and even the stars could not illumine this space betwen such ancient trees? She stood up, wrapping her arms beneath her chest and closing her eyes. He meant more to her than he should. He knew more of her than he should. Ada saw all the faults in his soul and all the demons and ghosts that trailed in his wake, and yet curiosity was barely sated. She wanted more. Something in him awakened the darker places in her own soul she had thought dead. Had not Ghislain and the king scorched them from her, made them work toward goals she could care less for? Jean-Claude made her feel loved. In his arms, she was his greatest treasure, whole despite her flaws, loved for her mind and deeply desired. Yet there were places even he was unwilling to explore; parts of her whole that he acknowledged, but dared her not to drag him. Peregrine walked there willingly, laughing the entire way, and always emerged seemingly unscathed. She sighed as he stepped in behind her, closing her eyes and feeling very close to falling heavenward as he held her still. "That is a very long time, pirate," she whispered, tilting her head to tauten the flesh that he kissed along her spine. She took the hand at her hip and drew it upward, under the shawl, and along the sharp slope of her bodice, the heat of his hand instantly warming the exposed flesh above the seam. "What do I want? You would be surprised at how few people dare to ask me that question. But the answer is always the same. My greatest desire is to give you what you want." The words, to Ada, felt as natural as raindrops hitting the earth. It was not staccato, merely a finality that hadn't been voiced before, an unspoken desire that had the same effect as a weather change. His heart skipped a thousand times, pounding against her back, the shoulder that pressed into him. She had always said he was too short for her, though her petite frame could be argued that none could ever be. The swell there over bodice could burn a man inside out, but it was the heart that beat wildly below he cared most. A small sway of his own hips the forever dancing soul could chase away a thousand years if only to get her to laugh. "You want something, you came here for a reason. I can feel the tension..you are not afraid of me, you have never been afraid of me..Tell me what it is you have come into my forest wanting of?" Turning his body around hers, he would step to where she would face him, until he could give in. There was not the child of the forest, just the wondering soul who had finally found his way through life. His arms tightened around her holding her firmly against his chest, in a grip that could easily rival Jean's. Though he was not the largest, a sailor held incredible upper body strength, and bulged where many knights would never. "You are torture.." He smiled then, having always carried that grin that lit even his eyes. "You know that though don't you?" He pressed his cheek against her own, as he exhaled curling his face downward."I thought it was readily apparent," she offered, canting her head. She looped her arms around his neck, watching and listening in that moment as she had never truly paid attention to him before. He was strong, and he held onto her as if she had thoughts of fleeing. Despite how thoroughly he had frightened her on Samhain, she would never run. He had pulled her in. It was up to him to let go. "I have been told I am torture before. I assure you, I do not try. I just ... am." She grinned. The smile faded as she placed her lips to his neck, dragging kisses along tender flesh, until she came to a stop at his chest, and leaned against him instead. "You are wrong, though. About being afraid. I hide it well, but that does not mean I am not. You assess the risks. You protect yourself against damages. And you walk into the forest anyway, hoping your pan flute gets his attention, and not some hairy creature with intents to sink his teeth into your leg. What do I want?" she lifted her head, and arched her dark brows at him. "I want you. But I am tired of trying to seduce you, pirate. All you do is walk away. Jean-Claude is tired of me trying to seduce you, as well. I come home smelling of wild things, and his words are always the same. 'Adelaide, I am an old man. I do not have this kind of energy.'" She did a fair impression of Jean-Claude, though she stopped abruptly, resting her head on his shoulder. "What would you have me do, Pere? Wish that you and I were made differently? Have me leave and never return? You know that I would not. It would break my heart, yes, but it would be fair." "No..I would change nothing about you. If anything I would wish there were more people in this world as open as you are. Rosalind..she..just..well..I wouldn't be standing here, would I?" An admission, behind blue eyes, "I couldn't begin to explain to her any of what you are, what I am..I'm lucky to even get her to laugh, and I try." Very hard. "With you..there is no work to get you to smile, or to laugh..to play your pipes, but this lifetime belongs to her. It's the only noble part of me, but.." GOD! "You can't leave.." Without him. "I'll have to leave her someday..somewhere. My 'death' will have to happen, I cannot prevent it, unless she falls first, and then.." He whispered closing his eyes, "but.." Ok maybe just one kiss..would be easy right? The world was alive around them, as busy under the moon as it faired the night. The very ground wanted this moment, as it shook below them, and the sky above felt dangerously close as his lips touched hers, and his grip tightened. A content sound escaped in a gentle moan as he felt himself burning all over, and it soon became a gasp as he pulled back--heaving heavy deep breaths. "God damn it, Ada!" He hissed at her, leaving her standing there as he went to prop himself against the nearest tree. "I'm trying, I'm trying to change to be a better person, to not be a cheating rat bastard, and first Janice, and now this." His eyes were black, like coals set into his skull. "GO away." He snarled at her, "Get OUT." He pressed from the tree, dangerously glaring at her, with fists balled at his side.
Not long ago, he had struggled away from her after a kiss that sent her spiralling somewhere between the stars. And here it was again, that boneless content feeling of floating in his grip, his lips sinking into hers as if they were meant to do this. Sparkling in her ears, still, the encouragement of voices from beyond the gate, and whatever ancient forces they roused from slumber this evening, and discovered an interest in two old souls. She knew he loved Rosalind. She would never change that fact, much less hope to alter that woman's world by taking her man. Peregrine was not hers to take. Not, as he pointed out, in this life. He would have to go willingly, and even then, he would always return to Rosalind. Ada was not jealous, merely pragmatic. Yet for what felt like the hundredth time, he pushed her away. She took a deep breath and let it out. Then another. And what she found, when she tried to calm herself, was that all this breathing merely fanned the flames of that violent, raging soul he had seen dance through the fires. His eyes burned like coal, but her heart had already combusted. She walked toward where he leaned against his tree, and placed her hands above his shoulders, her body brushing against his. "I do not care what kind of man you are trying to be. I, in fact, do not care about anything at all." She slid her hands down his arms, the muscles so tense beneath her fingers she feared they would snap. Over his white knuckles, his balled fists at his side as if he would hit her. And maybe he would have, if the braided leather lacing from one of her boots did not bind his wrists behind him now. She stepped back deliberately, her face expressionless, her eyes glancing once again upward through the trees. "It would have been more pleasant for both of us if you had followed your baser instincts. I know I would have enjoyed it." There was a certain wistfulness to her dry voice as she took a seat on the log to watch him. She could already feel Jean-Claude making his way into the trees. He stirred the order of the wild, did her lover.
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Post by Peregrine Inveryne-Lamont on Dec 27, 2009 21:33:46 GMT -6
His anger melted when she bound his hands, and a grin to surpass any curled into his lips like the moon above, the half shaped circle. "You know this simply makes it worse right?" He arched his back enough to press against her in return, but his ears would lay flat as he listened to the tremble in the forest. Jean-Claude held that effect on the world, he shook the very earth at it's mark, and even drew back the shadows. His was a very vivid heart, that could not be mistaken, but watching him walk forward in the distance shivered even the trees. "He's upset...Ada.." Peregrine would push against her with his chest, to get her away, working at the shoe string to undo his hands. "You tricked me?" His eyes widened, but did he smirk? Yes. Minx. When Jean-Claude stepped into the clearing, Pere fell silent raising his chin just a little, "This is not what it looks like." He would protest, only to watch Jean-Claude close the distance between them, and roll the ruby of his cane in his hands. With the force of any good blow, Jean would deliver the large jewel across the pirate's face drawing blood and nearly straining his neck.
"How dare you defy me!" Jean-Claude was wild with anger, "You did not come to me. You know how I feel about her!" His voice sounded eerie like smoke rising from the ash, he could have easily been mistaken for a phantom. He would keep his cane in hand, ready for another blow but would give the pirate time to talk.
"Hey..not my fault you're too old." Pere hissed, inhaling as the blood ran down his cheek, outline the length of his neck until it fell down his chest. "Ada's too much for you, I get that..but you know they make herbs for your little problem, JC. I can't help it, she's beautiful, and she pouts...begs even." He spoke behind clenched teeth, as his own anger started to rise. "You said you didn't care.." Jean-Claude would undo the rope that was around his shoulder, the knot on the end very clear at it's reason, and Pere's eyes grew wide. "No..ok, listen, I only pretend to like her, you know that." He would try to back up, running only into the tree, and the slip knot went around his neck. The pirate would try to run, but only fumble over the exposed root for the rope to be pulled tight over one branch then and around Jean's arm. His breath was captured squeezed from his lungs as the ground came out from under him, barely able to stand on his toes, but they were his saving grace.
"I am not speaking about, Adelaide..Mon Ami.," He spoke through clenched teeth only wrapping the rope around his arm to secure his hold and pull it taught. "You tell me what you were thinking to betray the one person who knows how deliver you to hell." His French nearly took over his entire voice, thickly trailing through each word. Peregrine could not talk.
"Please don't do that," Ada whispered, anguish underlying whatever she thought to convince him she was feeling otherwise. She was not used to betrayal. When he pressed his body up against hers, it only reminded her there was more to come. She gently pressed him back against the tree, curling the hand warmed by his body inward, as if to hold onto his heat. When Jean-Claude arrived, she stood up from her perch on the log, and walked quietly out of the clearing. She did not leave entirely, choosing to crouch behind a birch, half hidden in shadow. Both men were not to be fooled into thinking she had run away to let them do whatever it was Jean-Claude felt he needed to do, but she did not have to sit in their way. She pressed her cheek against the peeling bark and watched, jumping when Jean hit Peregrine with his cane, but pressing her fingers to her lips to keep from crying out. She did not need to watch what was about to happen, but she would feel less human if she walked away now, particularly when Peregrine did not seem to know what the devil had inspired such a fury in Jean-Claude. It was charming to think Jean was upset about Ada, however. Far from amusing, since Peregrine's escape attempt was so pathetic it made Ada's stomach clench. This was not the angry Jean-Claude she professed to love. She hadn't seen this aspect of him before; he was wild and dangerous, and all his life he had been working on that refined veneer to keep such rage in check.
Jean-Claude pulled the rope enough to have his feet hover over the ground and the sounds of the pirate's choke could almost be mistaken for a plea. However, when he let Pere down once again, the very tree seemed to move it's branch, the old oak's limb would crash to the ground around them, blocking the view as to what happened next, but Jean's back was forced against the tree then from unbound hands. The hit was hard, but it was then he was thrown to be away from the rage of the pirate. His back would skid across the dead grass, and before he could get up Peregrine's boot would forced down into his chest--keeping him there no matter how hard he struggled to get up.
With his companion pinned, he would work the rope free from his neck to breathe again. "I think you have forgotten something very important, JC." Peregrine was going to kill him, looking down at his friend. "She came to me. What I am doing is in the service as her friend. The same with Ada.." Bending then he put all of his weight right where the old man's rib cage warned of breaking, "You hit me again, fool and I'll be certain they all die." He whispered his voice barely a hiss, a dagger was pulled from his boot to place under Jean's chin. "You forget too easy who owns your soul, child." With that the pirate would stand, Jean's hand quickly coming to his own chest as he coughed, and he watched as he walked away.
"No, Pere!" Her knees seemed stuck in a crouch. She staggered upright too late, feeling as if she had swallowed her heart. Loving more than one had always come easily to her; she never saw a conflict of interest, it had never pained her physically worrying over which to support. But never had they been so equally wrathful, and equally capable of ending the other's life. By the time she reached Jean, Pere was gone, and there was no earthly way she would be able to capture him again. She came crashing to her knees beside Jean-Claude and pillowed his head with her lap, waiting for him to regain his breath in silence. She swept his dark hair out of his face, though her eyes drifted off toward where the pirate had disappeared. It was always difficult to discern what Peregrine thought about anything. He had grinned at her after learning of her betrayal; it meant nothing. It certainly did not mean forgiveness. After all, he had smiled at her after she was certain she had roused him from a nightmare of Avaria. "I will get you upright again," she told Jean, looking down again at her love. "I will fix you up, make you feel like new again. There is work to be done." She did not want Jean going after Peregrine again. There had to be another way to prevent Janice from doing this thing she was so intent on doing, but it would not be done through Pere. She bowed her head, lifting her eyes occasionally to study the rhythm of his breathing.
"No.." Jean-Claude held up his hand to still her, not wanting her to touch him in the moment, but relaxing against the feel of her anyway. He closed his eyes, and shook his head, "He is right. I am blind." His voice cooled laced with the rhythm of his labored breath. "Mon chatte.." He opened his eyes facing the heavens, the very stars could be reflected in his eyes and would seem he held the entire galaxy there in the black of his irises. "I love her very dearly, and I have not even thought of how to tell you. It is no ordinary love..I cannot say I desire her, I am old enough to be her father, too old to be her lover--but I have always felt myself drawn to her, keeping her just as remember her." He closed his eyes thinking of the night of the banner celebration, "She was the first person in Skye to not cower away, even after the wolves, she has always been..just that," He would motion to the brightest star, "Mon ange..I was burning in hell on these lands, with Shaden's betrayal, her love for Nicholas not as great for the love she shared with me..but it was a better match. He was not so repulsive to her image." His hand fell to his chest feeling his heart ache, "I had prayed for God to deliver me, to give me some sign he still even cared, and in that very moment she touched my arm, brushed my sleeve, begged me to forgive her clumsy feet. Pere knows this...how could he?" The betrayal never ended. Jean-Claude wanted to sit up, drawing one leg to help him he would soon turn to face her, "I beg you please understand..I love you very dearly, I would be just as upset if this were you."
She touched his cheek as she spoke, the cool skin made colder by the change in weather. She drew her thumb tenderly across the part of his jaw that had not been held to Perry's dagger, and rested her hand upon his shoulder. "God must love you very much indeed to give you two such strong and beautiful women to love so dearly. I am happy for you, Jean-Claude. And miserable in your suffering because I was not there." He was able to sit up of his own accord, which was a very good sign indeed. She sat upon her knees, which nearly made her as tall as him. He would beg her to get no further involved than she already was, and honestly, Ada lacked the courage to do anything idiotic upon her own. Betraying Peregrine had been more than she bargained for. Seeing both men abuse one another in such a way had been a special sort of hell for the apothecary. She knew which side she would always cling to, but even as she ran to Jean, a part of her wanted very much to go after Peregrine, to fall to her knees and beg forgiveness. Absurd. She was better than that. She was finished begging. There came a point in every seductress's attempts at bedding her target in which she went from alluring to desperate. She cleared her throat. "I love Janice as if she is my little sister. That she does something like this is staggering, and hurtful, too. If she had asked me, I would not have kept her from the idea of losing her virginity. Selling it, however.... Jean, you constantly say that I make you feel old. How many gray hairs did you get from this night alone?" She smiled, and had to shake her head to let him know she was teasing. Or at least, none were visible in this near absence of light.
Jean-Claude would pick the leaves from his hair first, brushing his hands through the strands to only scoff at what he would assume his appearance looked like, "I am not certain, but I can wager a good deal. Yet, being thrown upon my back does make me realize I should have thought twice going after the spirit of youth..To have his energy if only for a day." He mused lightheartedly, "I shall pray he is forgiving, but I know deep down he understands my frustration, I had only joked once of having Rosalind spy on the castle workings for our own guilty pleasure, and he nearly handed me my head." He sat up, brushed himself off before he would put the cane down into the earth to ease himself up, then reaching down to help her stand. "Come, my darling..I have much to think about."
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Post by Lady Rosalind Avalle on Dec 27, 2009 22:06:30 GMT -6
November's End Rosalind: Three days. They passed so slowly, each more dull than the one before, though she valued her time with Aldric. They went into the gardens to explore new areas, Aldric waving his sword and Rosalind following at a slightly more leisurely pace, though even that was a struggle for her these days. The new gowns that had been commissioned all fit her well, and there was no sign that she was so with child, she could barely walk. The court attributed it to her lame leg, and Rosalind let them believe as they would, as she always did. But at home, Aldric's curiosity meant Rosalind had more than a few moments telling him about the new brother or sister he would have soon, and they talked about names for the child. Aldric was partial to names he had given his horses. "Blue Star," he'd suggest, waving one of his mares around, and then suggesting something equally unlikely in French, before switching to his father's Gaelic, all while Rosalind laughed heartily at the idea of any child of hers named after one of her son's mares. But it was far better progress than she was making, with lists of vague names that had very little resemblance to any of those in her family. She thought about Ghislain, but ran into the same problem now as she had four years ago in naming Aldric. She did not like the members of her family nearly enough to grant them such an honorific. Her son now in bed, she set fire to the latest list and watched it curl up in the flames, donned her cloak, took her cane, and went to the waiting carriage. She wondered if Jean-Claude would know where Peregrine was. The man who was supposed to be her husband any day, who had begged release from her, should have been back by now. She knew him well enough to know that. He was also far more intelligent than Rosalind and her son -- he had to have a far better idea of what Peregrine would find appealing than Ghislain or Blue Star. Jean-Claude: "You will have no reason for that carriage tonight, dear friend.." Jean-Claude's voice called out to her in the night, as smooth as the darkness that was around her. Dressed in his best, it was apparent he had plans. With fine thick wool trimmed in metallic, the cuffs a larger grander scale, and the lace a little bit over the top--somehow it fit him. His hands were covered in silk on this night, he was all but undone standing before her. "I need you to come with me. If you had any other plans I suggest you send word to cancel them." There was unease in his eyes, the kind that told the story perhaps something was wrong. He was not himself, not his warm happy to see her self. "If you can not walk, I will give the driver instructions on how to get there, but it is important, Rosalind, or I would not ask." She should at least know him well enough to know by now that it was the truth. Rosalind: "Oh, Jean-Claude. My, what a fright." She put her own gloved hand to her mouth to cover her surprise at finding him here in the castle, of all places. "I am glad to see you have finally accepted my invitation, but you should have said something. I would have had a room -- Non, monsieur, that is not what you are here for, of course. How foolish of me." Rosalind looked quite stylish despite her present condition, her own silk gloves a fine addition to an elegant, fur-trimmed cloak covering a gown with fine black piping, expertly sewn to conceal, darts beneath the great curve of her belly allowing fabric to flow freely to the stones beneath her booted feet. She removed the fur cap from her head, the rapidly-braided plait displaying how quickly she had sent her lady's maid home that evening, that she had not risked to stay and ask her to fix her hair, mussed from the day's activities. He himself looked quite fashionable, but that was to be expected of a couturier. She canted her head, puzzled, and fluttered her fingers over the head of her cane. "Of course, I will accompany you wherever you like, but what is the reason for all this? Is it Peregrine?" Had he hurt himself? Was this the reason he could not arrive in person? She climbed into her carriage anyway and waited for Jean to give the instructions. Jean-Claude: He would forever and always have the air of arrogance, the slight pull of his words could match any well socialized noble. It was no wonder he had not been made a figure of the kingdom, or would his ties with the Underdark be too great? He gave word to the driver, who in turn passed him a dark look, but his will would be carried out. Taking his position across from Rosalind, he too would finger his own cane, the large red ruby however, now free of her lover's blood. An heir of darkness, slipped around them as the door pulled closed and his smoke colored eyes settled into her own. "Your, husband is fine I fear. He wishes to meet you. It is a matter of urgency I fear, but not of vile reason. I have been instructed to guide you to spot of romantic interest. He says he has been without you for too long, and wishes for you to wait for him." His words were dry, without much conviction but also without any reason for her to doubt him. He kept her gaze, but looked through her. For a moment he kept his silence, wishing for his heart to still in his chest, and felt every moment a betrayal. "He loves you very much." Again, there was a moment in which he wished he could find the strength to turn around, but at least he could speak the truth on this matter. "You do know this. You love him as well..am I correct?" Rosalind: Rosalind let her cane rest against the seat and folded her hands over her stomach. The baby was kicking, and she felt she would lose a lung or a rib, and it would float about her insides the rest of her life. With her hands covering, she felt a little more effective in controlling where her insides went, but not by much. She lightly touched Jean's knee with her own. "I do. When he comes home, we will marry. He needs this," Rosalind said softly. "I felt it in him this past month, this wildness that I could not control. He slept with a knife under his pillow one night." He had no reason to lie to her. Jean-Claude had always been too kind. Their trip to Avaria had only made their friendship stronger, as anyone who had seen Rosalind so drugged on opiates deserved a special place in her heart, lest they betray her belief in fairies, goblins, and the ghosts of her dead husbands. But it was not like Peregrine to have Jean conduct her to a romantic spot. Why did he not climb through her window like he always did? Her curiosity was certainly piqued, but it was impolite to probe further. "I love him very much." There was honesty in her words, and confusion, too. It was difficult not knowing the person she loved so well. And it hurt that he was so busy protecting her, he gave no thought to allowing her to protect him. Rather than have him at all, her bed was empty another three nights. Were she not carrying his child, perhaps she would not mind so much. But she was, and she knew how much he loved the babe already. "Tell the driver to speed up? We are at a snail's pace." Jean-Claude: "You are right, he is going through a very hard time, and I fear he is letting only Lady Adelaide in. She has reputation for such does she not? With her work with the General. She is a very skilled healer, I have no doubt wherever they are, he is being well taken care of." There was a hint of bitterness against him, but Jean was having a hard time escaping this creeping feel of pure evil. He felt his own spirit wildly dark as they came closer to the day in which Janice would be auctioned off like some sort of cow. However, knowing now the reasons he wondered what madness befell him, for he was not setting the whole thing up. In many ways he needed Peregrine's distraction. He needed to come up with a way to have the pirate step out. "Though I fear he has slept with a knife under his pillow for many years. It is taxing on him, to be so in control of so many wrongs. You would be wise to never wake him with a start, I would fear greatly for your life." Jean-Claude sat so perfectly, as to where Pere would be stretched out over the seat, like a whore in church--wiggling ready to be free of the confines. "But he will come for you tonight. For this I am certain." With two knocks of his cane to the carriage ceiling the speed would excel, and they would soon be on their way a bit more swiftly. Rosalind: "Your Adelaide is not doing for my Peregrine what she did for the general," Rosalind said tersely, wishing not to bring that woman into the discussion. She was jealous, yes, and understanding only went so far. She was surprised Jean-Claude could bring her up so casually, as if it must not pain him. As if he did not imagine what they were doing out in the woods. As if it did not startle him out of sleep at night. He had far better reign over his emotions than she did, she suspected. Not all of it was attributed to pregnancy. If Pere came home and did not leave again, she supposed she would have to begrudgingly thank Ada. She was a healer, albeit a very strange one. "Has he always been like that? Sleeping with a knife under his pillow, even in the safety of the castle? Or was it learned?" Jean-Claude had to know he was one of the few unbiased sources she had about her lover. Peregrine had let her in a few times, but even Rosalind could admit she was often selfishly wrapped up in her own doings, and for whatever reason, unable or unwilling to listen to every detail Pere gave her, spread out over their year of knowing each other. "So you saw him," Rosalind breathed. Between instructing Jean to find a place for them, and knowing Pere wanted to see her, it was enough to convince her to lay aside any misgivings about Pere's motives, and rest against the back of the seat as the carriage swayed a little more wildly down the streets. Jean-Claude: He would lean back in the seat looking across at her with deep regard, wishing that he could feel the way she did. Perhaps, his life would be less interesting if he were a jealous man. However, there were many nights he wished his company to leave, or fall asleep--until he truly sat back to realize how foolish he was acting. Yet, it did not bother him at all his lover was out with another, just so long as she returned to him, and saved the best part for he. "This life is troublesome for him, Rosalind, perhaps he has not let you know how many depend on him to even eat their meals at night. In all my years of being at his side, he has turned away none, welcomed all even when the numbers were too many. He has enemies on countless lands, whose empires fell to their own greed, and by his hand. They would stop at nothing to see him dead, and happily take you with him. He was afraid to fall for you, and I dare say I tried hard to get him to leave. He is not as carefree as one would think, and often simply just needs to be taken in. You would be wise to find the time to spend with him, go to the places he wishes. Find his tree..Have you any idea of where it is? Where he sleeps when he is not with you? Have you ever tried to get to know him? Ask of his past? Do you even know what his favorite color is?" Jean-Claude did, and he made that clear when he sat forward practically tearing her down--in a kinder way of course. "You wish to marry this man, when in fact you know nothing, but the fact he saved your and your son's life? Perhaps, Ada would not be in the woods with him now, Pere with her--if we took the time out of own lives to see there is something there across from us who needs attention too. I.." He exhaled, "I simply hate the outdoors, but I do spend time in her shop. We use her..simple bed from time to time. Though I am not a fan, and my feet hang off the end. It is a sacrifice for her comfort I am willing to make. You would too, if you knew how she looked at you." Suddenly the world outside the window caught him, until they arrived at their destination, and he would wait for the driver to open the door. Rosalind: "I do know," Rosalind said quietly. "He has said. When I ask him, he either gives me a simple version, the truth, or we talk of something else. I have wanted to know him for a long time, Jean-Claude. But we are always interrupted. We are always torn apart by something. Even I admit I am not the warmest and most affectionate women. But it is difficult to change, if you do not see yourself at fault. I do not know which answer he will give me, or what his purpose will be. To soothe my heart or his, to let me in or to keep me from asking more questions, there is much more lying between us than disagreeing on where to sleep. Though I doubt very much I can climb any trees in my current state. He took me once, to that place in the trees, with the woman statue, where he says his people live. I loved it there, just as I loved where we went in Avaria, but are we ever able to talk of it afterward? When there was a war to fight, when I was taken to France? It is not a lack of trying. It is a lack of time. Oof." She lost her breath for a moment with the latest kick, trying to gain it back and then suddenly wheezing as it flooded in. "He knows what is important about me, Jean. I took him to my home and he knows me. He knows all that is important of me, all that makes me who I am today. I fear it would take longer to learn the same of him, and we just have not had time." The door opened, and the cool air fanned Rosalind's face, which suddenly felt quite hot from their discussion. She knew she was partially to blame, and she did not like that he had pointed out precisely what she had come to conclude since Pere left. There was still time to make it right. Jean-Claude: "Then let this be the night." He held out his hand to her, to ease her down as the driver held the door. They were in the Underdark again, but a part a bit more upscale..if possible. The buildings were tall, and stone--perhaps a practice run for the castle, or a building far grander--just simple. The streets were black, without a soul on them, but the glowing light of the highest story could be seen. "Then when he comes to you.." Jean-Claude started quietly as he would help her up the stairs, "You wrap him up, kiss away any words, and you love him." Easy way to cover his own tracks. The grand doors opened, and Jean put down a stop knowing they locked from the outside, and there wasn't a way to get them back open again. The room was beautiful, every last detail was perfect, The ceilings were high with thick glass that held no reason for covers as nothing could be made through it. Like an old warehouse of the streets of London, the vaulted ceilings had yet to reach Scotland. The floors were a polished wood, smooth and glistening with the light of the hundred candles that lit the room. A gold bed, of roses rest in the middle against the wall that seemed the center of the entire room. Along each wall was delicate decorations with books of old, and new. An entire buffet was there for her, to feast for days if she must, and upon one wall a wardrobe full of fine silk nightdresses. It was a perfect romantic getaway, designed by detail along with wild flowers, roses, and other fresh greens of all sorts. This--was his version of bringing the outside in, the opposite of what Ada had done for him. The bed was huge, stuffed with a hundred various pillows, where she could be lost for days. "He was not certain how long he would be, so there is a small library at the desk, pen and paper. And here.." He would lead her to where a clawfoot copper tub was surrounded by bright royal blue drapes, "If you just turn this here." He would turn a knob and the fire below the tub would raise a bit, "It will heat the water, and when you are finished..Over there, the Captain, begs you find something a little more..appropriate." He motioned towards the wardrobe. "I would recommend the green one, it is his favorite color." Rosalind: Rosalind looked skeptically at Jean-Claude. Wrap him up in her arms and love him. It seemed difficult to do at the moment, when she was admittedly more bitter at his absence than she thought she would be. After all, he was gone so frequently, to places where she literally and figuratively could not follow. But she missed him. She missed him enough to set that aside, and welcome him home like he deserved. She walked in, her cane making oddly solid sounds upon the floor, and spent more than a few moments looking around the room. She was a woman who lived in opulence as it was understood in Scotland. There was no running water in the castle, much less one with a heating contraption beneath. It looked thoroughly unsafe. Food was never left out like this, in a place where illness born by rancid meat was a constant concern, but she knew this all to be fresh, including the flowers and greenery. She ran her hands over the roses, relishing in their velvety feel. Though her favorite flowers grew wild, there was nothing quite like the texture of roses. There was a library nearly quadruple the size of her father's, though it was still small, writing things, a desk, all the items she could want, and all the comforts of the outdoors that Pere would need. She silently turned and wrapped her arms around Jean-Claude. "Thank you. It is perfect. I will be sure to wear the green one then." Jean-Claude: "It was not my idea, I assure you, but as you can tell in the taste.." With a wave of his hand he smiled releasing her, but happy she was content. "I shall send word to your maid that perhaps Aldric shall have his next few days filled with lessons, and ran about the castle until he has forgotten it to even be day..and return swiftly to bed hmm?" He smiled, feeling a knot close up around his stomach as he felt the orb of her own press into him. "My how..you have grown.." He was amazed really, had it been that long already? "Perhaps I should leave a guard posted at your door in case of your wetting?" He was joking of course, but had to wonder if he made the right decision. Yet, he had to distract the pirate, and get this order under control..and his other motive was to drug her..that would not have gone well.
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Post by Lady Rosalind Avalle on Dec 27, 2009 22:18:29 GMT -6
Peregrine: Peregrine's race through the woods was a short one, stumbling up the steps and bolting down the corridors toward Lady Inveryne's suite, only to be confronted with the Lamont guards and news that Rosalind had gone for a visit with Jean-Claude. The note upon the couturier's door incensed the pirate past the point of seeing clearly, yet it was not until he found the next note, chastising him for leaving Rosalind, nor the next -- regarding Janice -- that Peregrine truly lost his temper. Was she well? Was their child well? Where the devil was Rosalind, and how many must he kill to find her? Through the streets and alleyways the notes led him, a wild goose chase that eventually brought him to the doors of the warehouse they used to store their ill-gotten gains. He bolted up the stairs, and found Rosalind fast asleep in bed, lines of the pillows she slept on embedded in her cheek, but obviously well-pampered. A book was open beside her, where she had left off as sleep claimed her, though in reality, she had grown bored waiting for Peregrine to appear.
Rosalind: She woke up to him wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling her cheek. Happy to have him back, she hugged him quickly, following Jean-Claude's advice, though it was odd how much love battled with the desire to slap her hands hard to his ears at once, and finish the job with the little stiletto that must be somewhere nearby. He had left her. He had come back, and she could tell he was at peace with himself, even if lines of worry still drew his face down into a grim mask. She forestalled his excuses by pressing a finger to his lips. At the same moment, they both heard the thunk of the door behind Peregrine locking shut.
"I wish I could follow you into the woods like this and climb your tree. Sleep under the stars. See all the things you love, like you saw Inveryne." She really had intended to show it to him, rather than run off with Colban and inadvertently bring Peregrine howling in her wake. For a smart woman, she was incredibly stupid and hurtful at times. Once he was seated beside her, she wove her fingers into his hair and bowed her forehead to his shoulder. She hated to admit it, but something had changed in Peregrine. Despite his worry and anger at Jean-Claude, there was something more centered about him. Ada had gone where she could not, and as much as that stung, Peregrine was a better man because of her. And that, Rosalind decided, was the last she was going to think about that. "I can think of ways to enjoy our captivity," she teased.
Peregrine: It broke his heart to hear her say the words that fell so easily from her lips, but they were there; very real. "Rosalind," He whispered against her ear, wrapping his arms around her, "I've only been married once before..Twice if you count a trap, but it's important to me to marry you." He ran his hand over the round globe of her stomach, centering it over where the baby pressed back. "I don't want you pushing me out, like you did Colban. I want you to let me be here for you. You are so cold. You've been so hurt, and you have to realize I'm a wicked man, but I'm not ever going to hurt you." He frowned, "I don't want your body, well...I mean..all the time." He grinned, "You are more to me than some quick satisfaction, or some frolic in the forest. Just.." He closed his eyes taking a deep breath, "I'm just between the living and the dead right now. I'm going through a really hard time. I just need some time. Though.." He ran rubbed over the baby, with a small inward smile, "We're running out of it. Has she been giving you fits? You are enjoying her? You get to be home with her, your son, and your husband. No wars, or fights, or politics." He press her back over the bed, adjusting the pillows to support her and grinning seeing how large her stomach truly was under the silk. "And frankly..I'm not even sure how we would make this work." Trying to settle the idea of being locked in, he tried to keep the mood light, but really..with her weak leg, and large stomach..how?
Rosalind: She listened, truly keeping her mouth shut until he had said everything he had been meaning to tell her, and was still quiet in his arms, relishing the feel of him around her. "It is important to me, too. And perhaps you understand my wariness to marry again, except that it is you this time. I want to marry you." She would always care for Colban. He had been her greatest friend growing up, when she was so young and so new to this land. He had supported her during all the dark hours of her life, but even he could not break custom and intervene in Rosalind's world when she married Fearghus. He had tried to keep her safe. He had hidden her, arranged for her to live with Mary Bruce, had kept their son safe from harm when he could no longer keep Rosalind herself safe. Peregrine might not like the man, but she did. She just didn't love him enough to marry him. It seemed all her history was about not loving enough -- her fault, or the men she had married. Until Pere. He had patiently brought her back to the living world, and she could not even understand what he meant when he said he struggled. Was it her fault to believe him infallible? "Mm. Soon." She patted her stomach. "But we have enough time now. There are no distractions. Neither of us can really run away, can we?" Rosalind shifted the pillows beneath her stomach, shifting onto her side. He would quickly realize Rosalind had some ideas of her own, pushing her hips back against his, and drawing his hands over the soft fabric of the green night gown.
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Post by Lady Rosalind Avalle on Dec 27, 2009 22:25:12 GMT -6
Rosalind: Day turned to night, and no matter how frustrating it was to have to remain in one place, Rosalind admitted they were precisely where they needed to be. She missed her son, worried for Janice, and even worried for Jean-Claude. They were all important to her, but it was time to put Peregrine first. She told Peregrine how she felt. Indeed, her past relationships had been difficult, but she wanted to do better. She wanted to love him like he deserved, but wasn't quite sure what that entailed unless he told her. She needed him to be affectionate, too. She missed him in bed, and not just the lovemaking. Some of the telling required words. Some didn't. She listened to what he had to say. She did not need to change who she was, but some changes did need to happen. It was only fair.
She fell asleep with her head pillowed on his chest, only to startle awake an hour later as bone-deep pain ran through her back. She tried inching herself off the bed, hoping standing would make it better. She was very close to putting her feet on the ground when another wave coursed through her. She groaned and fell back onto Perry. Jean-Claude was a damned prophet. And a fool. Was he at all worried what would happen if Rosalind went into labor here? Without a midwife or even a -- "Oh, Christ in heaven. Perry. Perry, you need to get a priest. You need to go right now and get a priest. Perry, wake up." She might have inadvertently punched him as she reached to shake him awake. She grimaced and apologized.
Peregrine: Peregrine felt rested, with only the few hours he felt he could take on this world. His heart was there inside his chest turning somersaults against his ribcage. The look in her eyes, only pushed him further--the pain there was natural, and he could easily over look it had he not promised she would never hold such eyes again. "I don't want to leave you," He pleaded, folding his hands nervously before him, rolling this thumbs. Rosalind held such pain her eyes, the excitement rushing through her just the same--but perhaps it was simply his own. The pirate wondered what went through her mind, was she excited there was to not be another to come style the child? Or a husband to beat it back. No, she would have everything she wanted. However, he needed a way out, but of their solid year of knowing one another had she ever truly known him to be trapped? The jail did not count. Her arms did not count. "Rosie..really?" He teased turning to face the door, crossing lines over the room with his eyes; landing upon the beautiful set of candle settings with their cast iron sconces turned towards the heavens. The windows were high, the glass was thick, but with a bit of the gold rope that ran the drapes, the candelabra would be in full motion and powering through the glass. The glass shattered like rain around them, but once the cold hard surface stilled--something still fell. Snow. "Rosalind..look. The first snow." He smiled back to his heart before pulling on his hook to start the climb. Time slid into an hour, before the sounds of the cries came. The midwife was silent, pushing through the door with a smile on her face, but it was the man of God who came wailing like a child. He had been woke up. He was cold. He was not fully clothed, and he was suddenly afraid for his life. This man had reputation, this pirate, and now seeing the woman on the bed he could only wonder. "She wants you, Father. You'll do as she says, or I'll cut your heart out." He was serious too waving the edge of the short sword over the bridge of the man's nose, and the priest would nod going to Rosalind's side. Rosalind: "I do not want you to go," she said softly, but smiled. "But you should. How many children have you delivered?" It was a pointed question, and they agreed then that he should go as quickly as he could. She did not think that meant crashing the windows overhead with the candelabra. She threw her arms overhead as glass showered down, somehow avoiding most of the bed. This child would forever have this story behind her birth, and Rosalind actually enjoyed this. The child already had quite a personality, and the past months of odd dreams between both parents ensured she would have a decidedly unusual life. Why not an unusual birth?
"First snow." She looked where the empty windows used to be and laughed. It was not such a rare sound from Rosalind, but there was childlike delight in seeing snow, and not being out on the streets in it. She usually detested bad weather, as it made her leg ache, but pain was relative tonight. She was about to push a babe from her womb, and while much of Aldric's labor had thankfully since been forgotten, she did recall it had hurt. A lot. The midwife said this child would come faster, so despite the mirth in Rosalind's eyes, she was worried, too. She did not exactly want Peregrine present during the birthing, but she did not want him gone, either. He would never forgive himself if he missed the birth of their daughter. He did not need much more convincing to disappear out into the night, and not long after he left, another contraction ripped through her.
And just as Peregrine, the priest, and midwife arrived, another came. It rolled down through her back, muscles forcing downward the child desperate to be born. She lost her usually tight grip on herself and screamed into the heavens, gathering the blankets beneath her in her hands and waiting for the pain to pass. Finally, she sank back onto the bed, breathing hard. She struggled to get her breath back, forcing it in through her nose and out through her mouth, and then finally turned toward the priest.
"Father, will you do us the honor of blessing our marriage?"
Meanwhile, the midwife hurried about the room preparing what she needed to bring the babe into this world safely, and then settled at the foot of the bed, beckoning the men to look elsewhere while she checked Rosalind's progress while preserving the lady's modesty.
Peregrine: "Yeah, Bless the marriage." He tightened his grip on the hilt of the blade touching it to the man's neck. "Wait..what?" His heart stilled, turning to face Rosalind he took her hand--she didn't mean for this? Not now? A bastard she had once before, why did it matter now? "You sure this is what you want? Even if it is for name sake, Rosalind, I don't believe in divorce--only death." He teased kissing her knuckles before turning back to the priest.
The Priest: "I'll not marry you to this man, child. He's filled with the devil. Satan's spawn." The father spoke through his teeth, his bravery coming in a fast rush. However, he felt he was determined to stand his ground until the pirate turned on him, the wildness there in his eyes enough to shake the very cross from around the man's neck.
Peregrine: "You are close, my friend." Peregrine hissed, the sword pressed further, "Deny me her hand. I dare you." Rosalind was released as he backed the priest up against the wall, and the man's hands would raise in his give.
The Priest: "I bless you."
Peregrine: "No. Do it right."
The sounds of Rosalind's cry only caused Peregrine's eyes to narrow further on the man, and the priest would jump.
The Priest: "My child," He spoke quietly to Rosalind, coming to stand at the edge of her bed with the pirate at the head, "Do you take this man?"
Rosalind: "Oui, I do." She watched the exchange with the steadiness of a woman in perfect health, not one nigh on giving birth, with the midwife's hands between her legs. "I love this man, and would know no better way to live than to love, honor, and cherish him as my own." She did not believe in divorce, either. Annulment, however, was another story entirely, and the priest had more than enough reason to deny Rosalind the right to marry. Perhaps a sword pointed at him made him forget, finding it easier to lay the blame entirely at Peregrine's feet.
She curled her fingers around Peregrine's hand and held tightly. It was not the first time her wedding vows had been exchanged at sword point. However, the last time, it had been her neck at risk, not the priests. It was a rather sick turn of fate, but she could not help but feel relieved that Peregrine was on her side. Forever. She looked up at him while the priest asked the same question of the pirate, though her eyes widened in betrayal as another contraction ripped through her body. Peregrine's hand might never be the same, with the grip she had upon it, and the force of pain that took away her sight and left her feeling ragged.
"She is close, milords," the midwife offered from the foot of the bed. "The babe is crowning. In a good position, too."
This room felt like a chapel to Rosalind with the high ceilings and what was left of the beautiful glass windows. Yet the way she profaned it with the next contraction in perfect, schoolbook French turned the priest's ears red. Perhaps he had never heard his Lord Savior's name uttered with such creative license. He had not previously known the Lord had a middle name, but it seemed he did now. "Perry, say the God be-damned words already!"
Peregrine: "And I her, Father, she's all I've ever loved without restraint. I.." He would grind his teeth as she squeezed and cursed, and the sudden wash of need ran him, this child was coming soon. "I will. Forever. Yes."
The Priest: The priest was nobody's fool, a puppet for the church, but even he could see the truth behind such love. He saw how he fell away, and though he was standing there by the bed he felt the couple gone--together. He watched as the pirate brushed Rosalind's hair from her face, fluffed the pillow at her back, and spoke to her in calm tender words. This wasn't a trick, they were real.
"Have you rings?" The priest took their left hands, and put them together when the pirate shook his head. They would, Pere was sure of it, just had a few more important matters first. In prayer he brought them together, "By the power of God I bless you, man and wife..now..get me back to my bed!"
The door was open, he had unlocked it on his way in--this now husband, and soon to be father. Peregrine watched as the man left, but felt the very presence of something even he could not question. This was a miracle, this child coming into the world, and all he could do was watch in silence at the head of her bed: with her hand in his. Curling his arm as she squeezed he would tense to give her some friction; help her through. His love was a fighter, no matter how graceful. Rosalind, was a very strong woman, and in this moment he realized just how much he truly loved her. His wife.
Rosalind: She was married, and their daughter would have every advantage of a good birth by expert hands. Rings could come later. She loosened her grip temporarily on Pere's hand, if only to give his skin a chance to return to its usual color. Here they were at their most reduced -- Rosalind in the throes of childbirth, with all her armor crumbled at her feet; Peregrine, wholly devoted to a life beside her, to the role of fatherhood he was about to take upon himself again. He wished to be a better person without entirely leaving the old behind. This was her goal, too, and she supposed they loved each other for a little of what they saw, and a little of what could be. What was a future without dreams?
She loved calling him her husband. She knew she didn't sound very grateful with her head bowed forward, gritting the words between her teeth as she bore down, but she was when she settled back against the pillows he'd fluffed, and turned toward him so that he could wipe her forehead with a damp cloth.
"This is it, milady. One last big push, you can do it, here we go!" the midwife cried as the next one came, Rosalind feeling for an instant like dying would be a better alternative to what felt like constant pain and endless labor. Except at her side was someone she didn't want to leave behind, and soon to come to this world, a girl child she had been dreaming about for nine months.
As Rosalind's screams subsided, the child's rose. Healthy, defiant wails pierced the air and Rosalind collapsed back on the bed, lacking strength to sit upright, but eyes following every movement of the midwife as she made their daughter presentable, and then slid the babe into Rosalind's waiting arms. There were ten perfect little fingers and ten perfect little toes, a set of great big blue eyes in a squalling, red-faced infant blessed with a fine head of hair too damp to tell its proper color. "Oh, Pere, look at her. Look at what we made. Bonsoir, ma petite. I've been wanting to meet you for a long, long time." Peregrine: The mighty fearless pirate who walked this world in search of death, had found himself beside her. Yet, his role as support had fallen away, as the wonders of nature took hold his wife. She did not need him, in truth she could have done without the midwife even. A woman's intuition could not be challenged when it came to the one true miracle gift from God. Rosalind, would have brought this child into this world without anyone, and that baby would have wanted of nothing. He had watched her 'for the greater good' be at the side of a ruthless man, for her son; a noble sacrifice of self to suffer each day, only so that her boy could survive, and here it was all over again. Her pain shot through him, her cries chilled his spine, but all he could do was watch in curious fear as their child came into the world.
Peregrine, had never been present, to witness what very few men felt brave enough to watch. He understood why. Having no idea what to expect he had melted to the side of the oversize bed, where the only thing visible was a crown of blond hair, and curious--horrified--unable to turn away eyes. The midwife would smile to herself, and never once found the need to question where the baby would have gotten such blue eyes. In an instant it was over, as for what seemed like moments in fact had taken up nearly the entire night, for when the bells called upon the witching hour their daughter was born.
"Is..is..is she ok?" He spoke in a meek nearly missed tone, and the color had drained from his face. "She is blue..why is she blue?" Blood? Was that blood?
"M'lord." The midwife smiled placing the child within Rosalind's arms and her cries became the sweetest sound. That little bleat of a lamb, melted his heart. As the color came round the child whose blood was their own met the air with her deep breaths, he felt himself finally breathing again; when had he started holding his breath? Meeting his wife he watched those little fingers flex, the little toes curl, and that precious mouth quiver.
"She's so beautiful." He started to cry, kneeling against the bed so he could be level with both of his love's eyes. "Look how small." Reaching out he gave his child one finger to hold, the little fingers out of reflex squeezing, wrapping around his. "Rosie..she's so small." Rosalind: She could do it alone, but she knew he was proud that she had chosen not to. That she wanted him by her side, always, and she did not need to prove herself to him. He already knew. This child represented to Rosalind all the joy and pain of this past year, and all the hope their future together represented. There was so much hope in such a tiny body, so much promise in those currently angry blue eyes, that even Rosalind's vision blurred with tears as she smiled down on their daughter. The child was angry, a fighter, but no doubt would have a smile to melt a thousand hearts, particularly if she kept those blue eyes of her father's past infancy. She was her father's, and most assuredly, her mother's.
"You should hold her," Rosalind said softly. The midwife came to the side of the bed and gently lifted the child from Rosalind's arms, and showed Peregrine how to hold her in his, positioning a soft blanket between father and daughter and folding the corners across that delicate, but strong, little body. She looked up overhead, where snow still lined the window's frame, but the sky was clear. It was heartbreakingly clear. She could see for miles and miles, through pinholes to their Lord's heavenly kingdom. "You should hold her. They do not stay this small for long."
Some day, he would look back at this child, and remark how once she had fit in only one of his hands. Aldric had never been that child; he had been born big, but was as calm as after the storm, a happy boy who slept most of his first three months and was always in smiles. She turned her head to watch Peregrine and their daughter, smiling as the two became acquainted with one another.
"I want to name her after the stars. I was thinking.... Apollonia. For your brother, too." She raised her brows slightly, waiting for his response. It was, she thought now, more important than swearing his oath to her as her husband. Even as the midwife gathered the child from Pere's arms to return to Rosalind's, in preparation for the first feeding and the last stage of giving birth, Rosalind kept her eyes on him, hoping for his approval.
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Post by Peregrine Inveryne-Lamont on Jan 18, 2010 1:00:14 GMT -6
The midwife had gone quickly to find Jean-Claude, finding him in the arms of his lover after one of their dinners that left them so speechless. The aftermath, Jean-Claude did not leave Rosalind's side, but sent her worn husband to walk the streets with Adelaide, his reasons..Rosalind needed time to heal and rest. This is what they talked about..
The cold air hit Ada in the face, happily giving her something tangible to think about other than Peregrine, his wife, his daughter, or Jean-Claude behind them. She adjusted her shawl to keep out the worst of the chill and began guiding them toward a shopkeeper she knew kept late hours dicing with his friends, and wouldn't mind a visit from Ada. His wife had a skill at knitting, as well she should, with their brood of six children all needing warm clothes for Scotland's harsh winters, and the last -- if Ada remembered correctly -- just past infancy. It would do until Rosalind was able to procure more from the ladies in the castle. She wasn't sure what to say, but there was no unease around Peregrine. She didn't think there ever could be. He knew her well, well enough there was no use pretending to be anything other than what she was. But much had changed in this past week, and not all of it required discussion. "Fitting she was born on the first snow," Ada commented at last with a slow smile. "Jean-Claude was a bit of a fool for locking you two in, but a well-intending one. You know he was terrified when we got the news. Nearly dropped me on the floor." Not that Ada's pride was easily injured, of course. She fluffed her hair with one hand, the curls having long since fallen out of whatever order Jean-Claude had put them in before dinner.
For the entire walk he was silent, his mind and heart still back with his wife and child. Ada no longer held that spark to him, and as they walked together he felt further from her. She perhaps did not feel the tension, but he did. It felt wrong to be beside her, he had not thought of Rosalind's feelings--who mattered now above all. That was his wife. Wife. Wife. Wife. He was a married man! The reality sank in, over and over as they walked, and he turned to face her, "I never loved you." He spoke so plainly, "I thought I did..but it's not the same." His chest burned with his grin, as he felt he would simply burst. "I love her, I've always loved her." Running a hand through his hair, he smiled to the sweet woman before him. "Jean-Claude wasn't a fool, no..he's a genius. We needed that." He gave a small nod before looking at the little bundle in Ada's hands, "I'm sorry..I don't even know what I'm saying right now it's just..I'm well..married. Just like that. Put a knife to a man's neck and said I do. Poof..married, baby, and this snow." The little white flakes fell around him in slow alluring dance. "She'll never want of anything, My Princess.." He laughed, "Of the Underdark I guess, but it is her kingdom I suppose."
His words were sudden, unexpected, but Ada said nothing. They came to her to empty their hearts; few stayed to listen to hers. She looked down as their feet crunched through the snow, squeezing the bundle of clothes close to her breast. It had been over the moment he held her clothes out to her, she knew this. She buried it with Momma's words, and grieved outside the sea entrance to Jean-Claude's lair. She still loved him. She always would. With love as a tenant of her faith, it was also a word she did not throw around so lightly as to take it back a few days later, nor utter it to have him pin her against a tree, and bring the stars crashing down around them. Love didn't cease because another became more important. Love was, even when it had every excuse not to be. "Well," she said, her tone a little more bright than she felt, "I am glad. You have needed this for a long time. Talk to your woman, listen to her, be a partner rather than the pirate who climbs through her window." She smiled again, and lightly rolled her shoulders. "I believe you, of anyone, can make that promise come true. Give her everything she ever desires, and even what she does not. The child will be a menace in a few years, wait and see. It will throw people off to hear you call her Honey." They stopped at an inn, where Ada went in, and came back out with a large clay jug in her other hand. It was heavy, so she handed it to Peregrine. "Their best whiskey. But I wouldn't know what 'best' tastes like. I hope it does not taste like piss." She'd never had the stuff. Wine, yes. And a few other spirits, but she could not now recall their names. She gave Peregrine a slightly odd, contemplative look before they set off again, but Ada was always a bit odd, and only occasionally had reason for it.
Taking the jug, "She wouldn't be my child if she wasn't a menace. I'll teach her to be mean as hell, and spit in the faces of those who try to cross her." He laughed pulling Ada into him, with a squeeze. "I would think your child would be the same," Looking up into the heavens, the snow that fell was surreal watching it fall the way it did, "Momma told me I was a hellion, but I wonder if I stilled my Sire's heart like Honey did my own. Ada..watching her come into this world..it was amazing, simply..just..wow. Rosalind, did so well. Aldric will want to know..We should wake him." He took her hand and pulled her into the castle, down the hall, and through the doors. The guards would jump from their rest, quick to rise only finding the grinning father, "She's had the baby! She's fine. Baby, is a girl..Honey, she's beautiful!" He nearly bounced, turning to Rosalind's maid asking her to gather a few things, and her son. Though Rosalind's apartments were a bit more modest then some, he had always thought them beautiful, and as he turned to Ada he would cant his head. "You could live in something like this? Be waited on hand and foot? Asked not to even brush your own hair? This is nothing compared to the life Jean-Claude was carried from."
"If I am so blessed, I hope they are as wild as their mother." She only liked a few children, and only on the premise that when she was finished, she could hand them back to their parents. In the case of the urchin child Jack, he was a very special exception. She could also pay him to go away. Ada would make the most natural of mothers, but it was not her ambition. She merely shrugged, but was soon swept up in Perry's excitement. His admission had shaken her but not destroyed her, and she was not likely to burst into tears because he admitted what she had known all along. He would return to Rosalind. That is how it had to be. They entered the lady's rooms and Ada, freed of being pinned by Rosalind's gaze whenever she had been here before, was finally able to examine the woman's apartments. Rosalind had a strangely earthy touch to these rooms with the French herbal bundles hanging from the luxurious curtains. It made Ada smile. "Lavender. No rosemary. Did you know the midwife was coming to her apartment? Rosemary can sometimes give pregnant women fits; a midwife worth her salt would have taken the herbs down upon her visit." She glanced down at the floors. It seemed not a single inch was left bare. Carpets covered every bit of cold stone. "I could and I have," she said simply to his question, meeting his gaze. "I was not a whore rushed in and out of the king's bedroom each night, but his treasured guest. His wife would have granted me lands, had I not convinced her instead to donate them to some charitable cause. What need have I of titles?" Ghislain had been incensed. It had almost been worth it, she mused. "Ah. Well. It is in the past. But as for brushing my hair, I keep trying to convince Jean-Claude that this is a terrible mistake. Unless you appreciate hair that looks like a looming stormcloud, thousands of feet high and spitting energy." It was quite the image on the petite Ada, but she certainly had enough hair to make an honest attempt at a stormcloud.
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Post by Lady Rosalind Avalle on Jan 18, 2010 11:23:34 GMT -6
November 1329 Rosalind: Apollonia had been born on the first snow, but it was the first truly clear, blue day after those heavy gray clouds were banished over the seas that was the date Rosalind set as the child's Christening day. She did not return to the castle, rather, enjoyed a few more days in the opulently furnished warehouse Jean-Claude had locked her in. While she had managed to forgive Jean-Claude for misleading them, she completely realized it had been necessary. She even thanked him for it, odd woman that the Lady Inveryne sometimes was. Yet there was one person whose forgiveness mattered a great deal to her, and whose opinion was worth even more. It took some doing to track the abbot down, but she did, coming upon him while he walked the gardens in afternoon meditations, prayer beads slipping through his fingers like all the years of his life. "Holy Father," she greeted, genuflecting, and smiling tentatively. Meurig: "Child," Meurig said skeptically, looking Rosalind up and down, head to toe. She was well covered -- but the pious lady always was. There was something off about her appearance, as if she had suffered a great and sudden illness. And yet she glowed! This was odd even for the contrary Inveryne whose confessions he guarded with his life. "Are you well?" Rosalind: "The best," Rosalind returned with a laugh, and to his growing shock, announced the birth of a child he had not even known she'd carried. As well as marriage to Peregrine, only moments before Apollonia's appearance. Meurig put his hand to his face and muttered in Welsh, but Rosalind pulled that arm down. "We were married by a priest, Father, so do not doubt my honor. Or my child's. In fact, if you would, I have gathered friends and family at the cathedral. his hand to his face and muttered in Welsh, we would be greatly honored if you would perform the baptism." Meurig: "Inveryne," Meurig said, rolling his eyes heavenward, but he went with the lady to the cathedral. Rosalind wasn't the sort of lady people said 'no' to and lived to tell about it. Kendrew: Kendrew walked into the cathedral with a woman upon his arm and thoughts hanging in the high vaults of the dome in his head, much like the daylight played games with shadows. "Place answers many a'prayer," he muttered, turning to his wife with a half smile. Nothing was indicative that she heard. If not, twas fine. As the season encroached he felt his age, the years numbering now forty. Had he witnessed all things he would have died at thirty-and-eight, but having lived some four full decades he would now see a baptism of an unusual pair. God had reason for all things, and no, Kendrew could not fathom the reasons why Inveryne was given unto Peregrine. Nor could he truly fathom, but only be thankful for, the young wife who cast in her lot with a war-hardened man. "The Lord knows what is best when we do nay...." Eirian: To everything, to every time, there was an explaination that heaven unfurled. All were the pieces God moved about to a greater absolution of something that linked them together. She traveled with Kendrew to witness the holy occasion, and anything after it. So silent stood Eirian. Aegraine: "Come, Dora, It will be fine. Loomis is asleep, see?" She tapped the little boy and he just sagged in Dora's arms. She wore her best day dress of bluegreen and a light green veil over her hair today. Dora: "Ish! I be not worthy of bein' here. I wished me Clovis were churched so I could get me little Loomis the blessin' o baptism. " She shrunk down into her shawl, in awe of the place, in awe of how the Almighty was judging her right now. Jean-Claude: Honey, a nickname promised of her by her father could have very well stole his heart. Jean-Claude found himself alone in the chapel for only a short while, holding the little bundle of lace and silk..by his hand of course. He could not have been happier upon the sex of the child, and secretly had been wishing it. He was doomed to be a father, his body victim by a cruel fate, but in truth there had been little desire. God father he had yet to be named, but Grandfather he was happy to take..after all Pere was a child in his eyes, or so he acted. Peregrine: “Ta-da!" The pirate burst from the shadows with arms open, to a very unamused Frenchmen. Jean's arched brow questioned him, and the pirate only beamed. Jean-Claude: "Of to what am I clap about, sir?" The tall frame of the man looked very regal in this moment, with his tailoring done in all black, and his silk covered hand over the ruby of his cane. Peregrine: "I'm in a church.." He grinned, and came around behind the pew where the duo set, "And I'm not burning.." Jean-Claude: "At least not of your flesh, Mon ami.." Jean looked down to the Princess and smiled, "She has been such a pleasure." But one he was willing to end, allowing the proud papa to take his daughter. "We shall have our own celebration? One a bit more fitting to our style no?" Peregrine: "Wee." Liliana: It seemed most impossible not to hear considering the meaning of this place to Liliana. It'd been here she came in sorrow to find answers and instead found her husband, and a love never dreamt of. "Aye, it does." Head tilted back to return the smile in kind though Liliana kept close, and moving, so as not to impede the others. So that they could take seats in preparation. "Perhaps it will answer others yet?" A sparkle appeared in brown eyes as she turned to check on Eirian. Today was a glorious day in her mind. Liliana was extremely happy for her friend. Rosalind deserved the best the world had to offer, and that was that. Ana: Friend or family? She probably didn't really qualify as either of those. But she wanted to pay her respects, at least, to honor Peregrine's offspring. Her dark hair carefully braided with a pale blue ribbon, the usual drab grey men's attire was exchanged for embroidered shades of blue, her equivalent of a dress. No skirts here. Watching the others move into the cathedral, she waited a few moments, then slipped in after all the rest and took a seat far behind them. Silent, she smiled and settled in to watch. Rosalind: They went their separate ways after reaching the cathedral. Rosalind, through the front doors, stopping like the penitent to genuflect at the holy water, even while she watched her husband the heretic taunt Jean-Claude. She reached both men, leaning to kiss Peregrine's forehead, resting a hand upon Jean-Claude's shoulder. "I do hope you took my request seriously," she whispered in the taller man's ear. "Will you stand with us?" She rounded the bench and sat beside her husband, leaning down to examine her daughter. She knew Jean-Claude adored the girl, but Rosalind had spent so little time with babies, she was still astounded at the newness of the girl. It didn't ever seem to wear off. "Has she been sleeping all day?" she whispered wondrously, her head lifting as guests began to arrive, smiling when she saw a familiar face. She rose to greet Kendrew and Lili, clasping the one's hand, and giving the lady a kiss to either cheek. "I am so glad both of you were able to come. It means so much to us. Pardon me, I see my child's godmother...." She turned to Eirian, taking the lady's alabaster hand in her own in a gesture of unexpected familiarity. Travel to Avaria had bonded them all together in such a way, she supposed. "Will you stand for my Apollonia, Eirian? Be her godmother?" Meurig: Meurig finally entered, looking a bit flustered, but remarkably well put together for the sort of proposition he had just received from one of his favored sheep. Rosalind and Peregrine -- they were the two most unlikely souls to be thrown together in matrimony, but his interference had only caused the pair grief, and he had spent most of his adult life in celibacy, so what did he know of relationships and what made their hearts beat in unison as they seemed wont to do? Eirian: "Yes, it will be my honor to stand in such way. Every vow I will uphold and I will love her, second to you and my husband's brother, all her days." A trip to Avaria bonded them as women of the same. She smiled to the watchful Ana, a sister at heart who perhaps stood to become more. All within comprised a strange, unusual family for the affiliation with what most of propriety would have nothing to do with. She sat with Rosalind in gilded halls, as she sat with Peregrine or Jean-Claude at a feast table where no light reached. Hope, too, was dressed for the solemn occasion in the same silvery blues as her mother, only the elder's hair was veiled by a star's shade of lace. "Good day Abbot..my cousin." The second was dear to her heart. Kendrew: "Wife, know ye that the Abbot was a relation to the Lady Eirian? Or that he was so quick to answer Rosalind's heralding. I think, I come to understand what it means to be tied. We all are so." Even he to Peregrine. He had to chuckle, for the man was now akin to family! Name, circumstance binds so harder than blood. Bess: "Ah'm glad ye've learned the lesson, old man." An unlikely place for a known pagan but symbolism far outweighed the symbol itself. The Lady Inveryne was among the women she trusted, and had she not taken Davina to the church door in honor of the ties to good folk who saw her not as evil, but as good? Aegraine: Ae had to take her servant by the arm and usher her to a seat, as Dora has second thoughts of coming into holy place without being church wed. Aegraine looked about her, glancing and hoping to better imagine her own self as wife and mother, following in the ceremonies like this one,. She day-dreamed of the ceremonies - both public and private. Dora: "Me feet hurt!" she whispered unheard to her employer lost in day dream land. Dorie glowered at Peregrine. Him that won her other good shoes at cards. "I wished I had me fav shoes back. I do." Jean-Claude: He had not wanted to let her go, but was happy to do so. "Good day." With a small smile he would tip his head in the direction of the few gathering, but would not move in any closer. He was happy to sit alone for the short while, as it had been long since he had been in the house of God, and with the days of late he had many prayers to whisper in French. Peregrine: "Funny how I have to be in church to see my sister-in-law," Pere reached behind Rosalind's back to pull a few strands of Eirian's hair with a smile. "Should be ashamed," His hand would fall to Rosalind's shoulder brushing his thumb over the curve of back, "Got you a ring..somewhere on my body..find it and you can keep it." He grinned feeling already the fire and brimstone falling around him, but at least he whispered! Over his shoulder he would throw a hand up at Kendrew, funny thing this relationship. Kendrew could tie him in knots, easy, but they had always been civil...ish. Now of relation? Damn. Means openly flirting with Lilliana just wasn't going to happen. Pere was different sort..but not that sort, not only was off limits, but was just sick. Liliana: The sight of Rosalind brought a widening of the smile upon her lips as she gladly returned the greeting. "We would not miss it. You are as much family to me as Bess." Rosalind had aided to keep her sane in the darker moments by giving hope where Liliana had thought none. She was pleased to see her so happy after all that had happened. Laughing softly at the revelation by her husband, she murmured, "The many relations of people in this land do not surprise me any longer." Ah, the crazy nature of happy people. Liliana flashed a warm smile of greeting to Peregrine though her attention briefly turned to each of the others in turn. A family, however odd, was what lurked within. Liliana, being an orphan, still could not fathom how blessed she was to have such a large one. None by relation of blood yet family all the same. Ana: Oh, she was spotted. She smiled almost sheepishly and flushed when she noticed Eirian's glance, but said nothing. She was more curious about this than anything, having never attended a baptism before now. Though she wasn't intending to eavesdrop, she absently picked up words here and there from others' conversations, hands laced in her lap. People watching, favorite pastime. Rosalind: "I had not thought of it myself until she announced her presence." She smiled warmly at those gathered, and then to Meurig. "It is good to find so many friendly faces, such strong allies, particularly as we greet a new life into such a family." She returned to her husband and took their daughter from him, gingerly rearranging the sleeping child while she leaned forward. Churches, after all, were places for whispering. Such lewd and forward thoughts had no place within a church. Or at least, not voiced in one. "I already confessed for the last time we played this game in a church, husband mine. I will not do so again. There must be an element of contrition in your confession, or it is not true penitence." Kissing his cheek, she started toward the abbot standing in the nave, but startled when the doors opened once again behind her. Neil Campbell: Neil's presence in Skye was entirely coincidental. It took more than three days to remove himself and his entourage from his home in Scotland, cross the sea, and arrive in enough time to be washed and dressed for a christening. His reasoning for being in Skye, then, had only recently become two-fold. And they both happened to be standing in this church, everyone's faces warm with happy thoughts and good cheer nearing this holiday season. Kendrew, taller than he, and in better physical condition, but seemingly lacking the arrogance that Neil had adopted as a cheeky lad of fourteen -- bullying his foster-brother Domhnall into mucking stalls and all the dirty work of the castle that was usually granted to Neil for ... bullying Domhnall. He left his men outside, as a show of good faith. It was also a house of God, and he genuflected as any good Christian would at the door, only then rising to incline his head politely to the proud parents. "I hope I am not too late. I came bearing gifts, a sign of goodwill, and do pray I may stay." Kendrew: "You are right, Lady Invernyne. So then, can I call the wee bairn, cousin or niece? " Kendrew relinquished the hard posture often associated with his silence for the lightness felt in God's presence. Be the Holy Host so gracious, he would see his child at the dias in the arms of Liliana. Until that day, he would content himself with what he had lost these years. A kiss was placed to Rosalind's cheek before she was set to make her progression forward, why, he even offered a hand to Peregrine. In light of so many miracles, one would say hell was set to freeze. The groaning of heavy wood turned his eye to behold the presence of Neil? Were this not an occasion of celebratory solemn, or they all not men of God, or related, or before a man of church , or women..or other such sundry things that kept his hand unseen in tight clench behind his back he would have utilized it to place a mark stronger than holy water on Neil's nose. Instead, he offered half bow to the man to acknowledge his God-awful presence with no sign of what he thought outwardly. Would he have the chance to toss out the chieftain instead of his messengers. Bess: "Good day tae ye, " Beathag knew whom he was, but not the entire state of affairs. Of yet he was still but one of many Scottish sons who defended the soil of in all accounts what was now her country. He may not like that fact. Alas. Aegraine: The engineer twisted the cuff of her right sleeve to cover the ink stains indeliable, from the day's work; drawing up the plans of what had been done new with Turas Lan Gates. She tilted her head to see better and took count of all the arches and courses of blocks used in the construction,.But this time the mental image included people, for the first time. She saw and kept their images in her mind. Dora: She thought Apollonia looked like a princess so lovely. That Loomis was not all that cute never occured to her at all. "Mate mutts and ye do not get a show dog." He Ma used to say. And Dora was content. She smiled to Rosalind. Peregrine: "Yeah, but you were a hussy then..now you're my wife. Less of a sin huh?" He spoke without missing a beat, though inside he was in shock. Rosalind was never so forward with him, and that was his second kiss in public! Wait..wait.. she even smiled too. He did have a ring for her, one that simply wasn't able to surface in the quick rush of time. Honey was on her way, and he held a priest hostage at sword point swearing them together. Little details that mattered much in the world they lived in. Standing with her, he came to be at her side lacing his fingers through her own, and secretly upon her ring finger placing the small band. Neil walked through the door then, his eyes glaring at the man at whom until today he frankly wasn't able to say anything to. He was forced to bite his tongue, forced to hold his silence, and forced to watch this fool offer his smiles and never once be counted for his crimes. What Rosalind would see would be him wrapping his own finger with a ring, what Neil..a crack of his knuckles. "Adding another to the Lamont clan, today." He spoke through a false smile, "Promising her to the Lord so that someday she'll deliver justice. To whomever..or whatever, wherever needs it. Any ideas Kendrew?" He would turn to the man at his side, "I'm drawing a blank, suddenly I've forgotten how unimportant a few people in this room are. Ok..one, one person." Ah ah ha. Jean-Claude: "Aldric..get out of that." Jean-Claude had become lost in the crowd raising with the aid of his cane to help the young Cambpell down from the alter, where his horses had given their best run yet. "Come sit with me, look at you." Where was that little doll he had dressed before with the buckles, and lace. The blue coat was brown now. Little boys. Sheesh. Jean was suddenly pale in the face, was that a worm? Leave it to Aldric to find a worm in a church. "Put that outside, child." He watched as the son of Colban ran outside, and would call out after him. "Wash your hands.....Not in the that water! Boy, that's Holy Water!" And off he would go to chase the child. Liliana: Smiling at the words of her husband, Liliana stood quietly at his side. If Rosalind allowed such she'd be just as honored. Of course, the children made her pray silently, they were in a church after all!, to give Kendrew one of his own. All seemed well until the approach of one that many seemed to dislike. Liliana was aware of just who the man was and her dislike could be added to that list. One hand moved behind her husband's back to reassuringly pat it and cover the tightened hand in hopes of soothing it into relaxing again. This was to be a happy occasion for the little one. Ana: Oh look, it was Bess! She eyed the duchess as she passed, and would smile at the tall woman if she happened to glance Ana's way, though she wouldn't draw her attention purposely. Though her attention was mostly upon Peregrine and Rosalind, her attention shifted to the door when someone unknown entered. She arched a brow, as she could veritably feel the tension that suddenly rose. Oh, dear. An unfavorable? She kept her mouth shut, but unconsciously scooted further down her seat and away from the man. Rosalind: She felt the metal slide over her finger and curled her hand in response. And there at the door was the Black Campbell. He had not earned the name by nature of his hair, which was as black as the abyss, even as the years crept in on him and that hairline receded. He had earned it by butchering over two hundred inhabitants of Inveryne and leaving her home a bloody waste. Yet they had reached a tentative accord, and while she stilled, she was not ready to throw him out, even if she clearly did not want him present for this event. Apollonia's eyes opened, large blue irises the same hopeful shade as her father's, and Rosalind forced a smile onto her face. She looked up, her eyes narrowing on Neil. "You are not too late, and all friends are welcome." Friends, a category in which this man certainly did not fall. But they were trying very hard not to be enemies, weren't they? He had offered Aldric an opportunity, had declared himself the boy's uncle, and seemed genuinely saddened that he had not known of Aldric's presence until recently. "Please," she said quietly. "Do you take a seat, and we shall speak after. This is a holy event, welcoming a child into the community of Christ." Meurig: Rosalind was full of surprises, wasn't she? He opened his mouth to speak peace, but Rosalind beat him to it. His hands were raised as if to command them all to be seated, but instead, he turned his attention to Aldric, rescuing Jean-Claude from his duties as he gestured for the lad to join him at the altar. "There's a good lad. Shall we play a game? We will call it 'trees.' Now, the person to stand like a tree the longest, wins." Celibate, and did not have children, was Meurig the Abbot, yet it seemed to work. Aldric struck a pose and stayed there for a full ten minutes, allowing the adults to settle down into their respective seats, while Meurig began the ceremony, his voice sonorous, but interesting. Even this Black Campbell took a seat as Meurig elaborated the duties of the child's godparents, Jean-Claude and Eirian, and took their vows to oversee the child's proper religious education. Kendrew: Friends. In friendship he'd created ceremony to induct a man who's name was mystery until Aberdeen unlocked it for him. Infamy sat beside duty today. He looked hard on the altar and listened to the words as they were being recited. It was better to envision his respective future: father, sept house man, retired entity. He clutched the hand of his wife so that this remained all of his thoughts. Rosalind, Liliana, and now even Beathag were better at making peace than the one who once restrained them! No, it was not the time. For him, Neil only brought forth memories that made him so sick he wished to spew the contents across the man. He had never hated in all his days, but he did with a vengeance now. At least Apollonia was beautiful, and the child, with Aldric, was family. Neil was not kin - merely an plague with the same name. Aegraine: Ae watched as Aldric ran in and out and back again, carefully letting some small creature free into the outside. He was adorable; what a little boy ought to be, in her mind. Dora: She sighed as her son awoke, big black eyes staring at the cleric and the statues of saints. How was she going to tell him someday that this was not of his world; his Da was not Christian? Jean-Claude: Jean-Claude took a breath, clearly far too old to be chasing after a toddler, and would brush his coat before taking his place at Eirian's side--honored. "Forgive my lack of manners, Your Highness. I have not been given the chance to properly say hello." He whispered to the petite little Queen, "You look marvelous." A kind smile, was always eerie across his face, but at least for this he was known by now. He would take his vow with a happy heart, but with or without the title he would have loved this child as his own. After all, he had been taking care of her father now for how long? Looking over the pirate he would notice his boot untied, and it nearly killed him not to bend and tie it. Peregrine: Peregrine, fell silent his hand coming to brush the small of Rosalind's back, but his rage was there, filtered through the love he shared for the both of them. However Neil had no clue what he had stepped into. They were on his turf now, and for the first time since Honey's birth he was thinking death, slow, sweet, and painful. This would be a world she would learn, why not start now? Liliana: Seated as they all were now the attention turned to the ceremony at hand. It was time to put aside hatred and feelings of ill will. They sat in a church at the blessing of a beautiful little girl. Liliana squeezed Kendrew's hand and sat quietly as witness to this occasion. These were the things that peace brought. Ana: As the ceremony began, she leaned forward and listened curiously. So this was a.. christening? Baptism? Did the term itself really matter? They were both one in the same. Very curious practice, that it was. Rosalind: "I am going to need a drink after this is finished," she whispered to Pere under Meurig's intonations. They were all going to need drinks after this, with the exception of Apollonia, who after all the water and chrism, had fallen asleep again. Rosalind could only hope this persisted. She heard Aldric had been -- well, much as he was now. A bundle of energy with nowhere for it to be released, and if anyone should be watching her boy, it should not be Jean-Claude. She owed the man a bottle of very, very fine wine. She shifted her daughter slightly, smiling at the rustle the silk and lace made, and how lovely she looked in the dress. Even if Neil was a pig, it had been a wonderful ceremony, and at least for now, Apollonia's soul was out of mortal danger. Being Peregrine's daughter, no doubt she would have opportunities to jeopardize it later in life. She turned to the Abbot and took his hand with the arm not occupied with her daughter or the voluminous folds of silk. "Bless you, Father. And thank you." She turned to Eirian, and with a slight grimace of apology, offered the child to her friend so that she could speak to Neil before the men found time to beat her to him. Neil: Neil stood slowly. "Peace, friends. I didna plan to bide long. I wished to give your daughter this. No words I can speak will begin to make amends for what lies between our clans, Rosalind, but we were once friends, and we remain blood relatives." Neil reached into his pocket and removed a small wooden box, elegantly carved. Inside, was a pin that had once belonged to his father, the Campbell crest, inside a boar with eyes of angry topaz. "I heard only recently, and they did not tell me the sex. Though she is not my niece by blood, I would be honored to consider her thus still, as Aldric is my nephew. Gentlemen." He nodded to Peregrine, and met Kendrew's eyes for a long moment. His business was not yet concluded with the big Scot, but it was in the cathedral. He turned and exited. Behind him, Meurig sighed audibly in relief Eirian: "Tis fine, my lord. Let us only hope my cousin, yon Abbot, recites service quickly. One could cut this air we breathe. Your very presence says hello, however." Cherry-petal mouth pulled back in slight smile as the veil concealed face side for turned sideways to concean her expression, "Thank you. I think Talion's baby is quite flattering to the figure," she made light of her condition. Ceasing to take her vows, she was honored indeed to be the godmother. Now, when all was said and done she stood long enough to look. Long enough for eyes to blink once as she leaned to Jean- "See them away from this place soon. It boes not well, not with what I see." Kendrew: He again canted his head to Neil, "M'lord." with word to make appreance now instead of just expression. What was it the seer witnessed? Was it what plagued his head some nights in the dark - the constant cry of tortured men from Windmill Hill? The burning houses at Dumfries, or was it perhaps the knowledge that indeed the Order had been cut nigh in half a year ago if for the man standing there? They were in a contest of sorts. Whom collected more upon their lands by way of people? When he left, he looked at Meurig, "When ye've the time abbot, I need to make confession. Twill be long." He kissed his wife's face, and erstwhile sank further back into the cathedral to make an audience with God. The heat in his hands - oh Lord, the heat in his hands! The constant messengers, the hidden text in his gifts or words of greeting Aegraine: She noticed Eirian, across the room and smiled, for waving at a religious ceremony seemed a bit overdoing it. She held a folded cloth in her hand, a gift to the little Apollonia. It was a fine gold chain with a pearl, suitable for a tiny princess of a girl. "Dora? I think you cannot do that in a church..." She spoke in a panicked tone. "We must go if you need to feed Loomis right this moment!" Dora: She flipped her shawl over the shoulder and child begun to breast feed. "He is hungry now, M'am." But she stood and they all began to edge out of the building, quietly. Dora left a gift of a skillfully knitted wool blanket for Apollonia, knit from the good Scotland wool grown by the sheep at Eirian's homeplace. Jean-Claude: Kind eyes of solid black could look through the entirety of the heavens in her own, and still he would never see as she. "Call it bold or old fashioned, Mademoiselle, I would wager no matter what the state, it would be lovely on your figure." Eirian had always been one of the most beautiful he knew, but only so she reminded him of home. She held two of the smallest in the room, and his gloved hands would reach out for either, at least..until he watched the world take shape in eyes that could see more then even he could dream. Eyes of black coal pooled in the direction of Rosalind. Peregrine: "Rosalind.." He narrowed his eyes on the man as he left, watching as Kendrew would pass along with the abbot. "One day you’re not going to be able to hold be back." He spoke only to his wife, as that was his duty now as her husband. "You really think he wants peace? Gonna just forgive him like that?" Yeah, he was gonna bring this fight home. "He's up to something, and I'll be damned if he adds one more of your children to.." He stopped himself sealing his lips shut, knowing he was about to confess something that was not his to tell. She had trusted him with it. The pirate started to pass over the floor back and forth until he felt Jean's hand touch his shoulder, and words of this happy time was whispered as a reminder to his ears. "I know, I know. But soon, ok?" He whispered back, and Jean would only curl his pale lips into that brink of madness. How easy it was to forget the Frenchman was certainly a monster under all his finery. Liliana: Naturally Liliana worried at the action of her husband. With Neil's presence it made her wonder just what was going through his mind. "Do you wish for me to wait here?" Liliana's voice was soft, a mere whisper, for him alone. She couldn't help watching the man who exited the church and feeling some relief. Sighing softly, she gave a smile to Rosalind and Peregrine,"Apollonia is a beautiful child. Aldric will make a wonderful big brother." Smiling warmly, she rose to stand with them. Ana: Good thing she'd thought to do a little asking around before coming here, otherwise she would've been horribly embarrassed, coming unprepared and giftless. Rising to her feet, she hesitated briefly before moving forward, hands reaching up beneath the thick braid of her hair and carefully removing a very delicate and lengthy chain, bearing a finely crafted medallion of Saint Nicholas, the patron saint of children. She figured that was appropriate, right? In any case, the medallion was placed with the other gifts before she offered a shy smile to those present, and spoke softly, as always. "She's a beautiful lass. Congratulations." Maybe it was time for her to make an exit! Rosalind: "Did I forgive him?" Rosalind asked coolly, watching Neil leave. She turned back to her husband. She did not wish to fight here, not when he merely voiced all that she suspected herself. There was no need, nor reason. "I will not ever forgive him. Many things, many horrors, I suppose I could forgive." But not what he had done to Inveryne. "I do not believe I can hold you back from what you feel obligated to do. As with Kendrew. That time is not today, and that place, is not the house of God. Even if I really wish you had." She lifted one corner of her mouth in half a smile, and then startled. "Oh, sweet heavens, child. You knew the Father was joking, non? Aldric." She hurried over to her son, whose chubby arms were shaking from holding them aloft like branches of a tree, and helped him pull them back down to his sides. "Holy fathers do not always joke, but the Abbot, he is a very strange man. Some day, your father and I will tell you how strange that one in particular is." She hugged Liliana and made sure to thank the departing Aegraine, as well as Morrigan, for their wonderful gifts, while Aldric tried rubbing his arms to get his blood flowing again, grimacing in such a pitiful way that only four-year-olds can with any real authenticity.
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