Recent content by Helena

Helena paid heed to Petra's words. The tenderness there in. The way each syllable seemed almost choked. Starved. In need. To be heard, perchance. Or simply, to be uttered. Young as she was, the Captain was no stranger to the hardships of life. How many of her sworn kin had she watched, cut...

He drained his cup, and rose, she watched as he made his way to the log, took up the kindling, and fed it to the fire. Her own expression softened as she looked down at her half empty cup. Last wisps of steam still curling about its surface. She set the cup down, and took up the humble teapot...

Helena smiled soft, as she held up the gift. Watched the heads twinkle as they caught in the magelights that lined the halls. The false gold of flame spheres painted the cool moon-glow of the silver wolves. Teeth bared. Eyes fierce. A pair. "Both, I'll have you know," she teased, and...

How strange, Helena found herself thinking, to find herself at the table of such a moment. Where the subjects of old legends came together, to write a new chapter in the chronicles of history. Helena bowed her head in agreement to the sentiment expressed by the Princess, Ravaneiros. Her heart...

A breath pushed out of her lungs. Cool with relief. A smile, soft as fresh fallen leaves come the turn of the seasons. "Thank you, Faramund," was all she could think to say once the Dawnling gave words to how he felt. Gave reason to his thinking. His eyes flicked down to the gift, and she...

How it already does... She smiled in secret with herself as he looked away. Is that how it was? The world fallen away, and they, but two sitting amidst the tender ruin of it all. Her fingers felt then the more, the drink betwixt them. Palm pressed against the warmth of fired earth. The heat of...

The words struck her like a splash of ice water. Loved her? Her fingers felt tight around the small box between them. Whatever anger had sparked up inside her, the heat of its memory there in the pit of her heart, drowned now. Felt cold and sober. "Faramund, I," she searched for words she...

Her brow knit together upon his acceptance. Confusion, mixed with worry. At his acceptance to the circumstance. Easy. Almost. Didn't it worry him? Wasn't he scared? Fool idiot, he- He always seemed to twist her up. Work her into such knots. And now he was offering her a gift. She huffed...

There eyes met in the passes of their glances. Stuck to each other a long moment. Where heat and breath mixed about with the aroma of the brew. Some part of her mind bade her look away. As blood crept up her neck and her lips held their tender smile. Yet she felt caught by the warmth of it...

A brow quirked with question, and she tucked the stack of folios beneath her arm as Faramund approached, her eyes on the small box he held, and the cloth that kept it secret. She smirked at the question, eyes still on the dainty little box there in his hand. "No, I wouldn't call it a bad...

"Take a look at what?" A voice called out from down the hall. Helena stood with papers in hand, out of her office, turned toward the wing that would take her to the Sanctum of Operations. Bebin laughed, clapped the Dawnling on the shoulder, and made away into the shadows without a word...

A pause, full with the silence that built between them. Warm as the tea was in her hand. Warm as the breath was that mixed in that space around them. Then it broke. Conversation like a sweet spill of cream upon the tinged drink between them. Cloudy, yet all the fuller for it. Complexities...

"Ah," she gave a soft nod. The robust flavor, mellowed by the delicate sweetness of the quince, the floral complexities left it all feeling, fresh. "An invigorating brew," she said with pleasurable hum in her voice. "Last I had Seretan black, it was in the company of Syrs Ranveer and Theros,"...

To hear him say her name in such a tone took her back to her younger years. Sword in hand, sweat fresh upon her brow, and armor stained by the ugliness of their work. She did not scowl. She loved this man far too much to feel so small against him. But she could not help but be brought back to...

How deeply she agreed with Dejan's words. How often she had seen it. Again and again. Until it was almost too hard to hold on to hope anymore. When their efforts born boons to the small. The large and hungry would come to take. With steel. With coin. Land hard worked. Land restored. Bought up...