Private Tales Sighing Shadows by the Light of the Moons

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Ciana let out a long, quiet sigh, her shoulders easing as his words settled over her. A small, genuine smile curved her lips, the kind that softened her usual careful composure. For once, she didn’t glance around for onlookers or worry about propriety. Instead, she reached for him without hesitation, lacing her fingers with his. Her heart skipped at the ease of it. Scandalous, she thought faintly. Reckless. Utterly unbecoming of a lady of her station. And yet she didn’t care. Nobody else around here seemed to, either.

She stepped closer until she stood against his chest. Tilting her face up, she studied him, the first time she'd seen him in sunlight, and the first time she’d felt it on her own skin in years.

“I think I’m still afraid of it,” she admitted softly, her voice trembling on the edge of a laugh. “Of everything.” Her lips parted in a rueful smile, eyes bright. “But you’re helping. And you’re right, it’ll take time. Thank you… for being patient.”

The last words came out quieter, her gaze dipping for a moment, because they both knew patience wasn’t all he’d shown her. It was restraint, understanding, kindness. Things she hadn’t known she’d needed until he offered them freely.

When she looked back up, her tone shifted, practical again though still tender. “You should spend what’s stored in those rubies. I’ve a feeling I'll be needing them soon enough, and I've already cracked one of them. They have their limits as I do, apparently.”

"Also I.. Was wondering perhaps if.. Well, I'm not entirely certain it's proper of me to ask but I think if you were to perhaps ask me to the dance that's happening tomorrow evening I might, say yes, to that.." she cleared her throat, heat rising in her cheeks.. Thank goodness for the warm sunlight..
 
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He blinked owlishly down at her as she stood so close.

“The… dance.”

Yes, of course. The dance. The mage from the gutter knew all about dances. Grown up around loads of dances. Every weekend after a pint at the tavern.

Galen had never been to a dance in his life.

Oh, he heard all about them. It was just, well, people like him generally didn’t get invited to events like that. Maybe if he achieved a high enough station as a court wizard in some kingdom, but from what he’d seen of them they tended to just cling to the corners of rooms and brood and say ominous and cryptic warnings. He’d certainly never seen or heard of a court wizard dancing.

Maybe he would be the first.

The dance.”

Of course he knew this dance. The one coming up. The one she was talking about.

Er.

He racked his brain for answers. Come on, Galen. He’d lived in Elbion all his life. Surely he knew what events were coming up soon in the city. The festivals. The dances. The m- oh.

“You mean the masquerade?”

Galen beamed.

As it happened, the common folk tended to take part in masquerades. That was all part of the fun. Not knowing who was who. Could be a pauper, could be a princess.

He covered his face with his collar then stepped back in an over exaggerated bow.

“Your most imperious eminence ladyship, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the masquerade tomorrow night?” He held the bow, but peeked up with one eye through a curtain of his dark hair.

Ciana
 
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For a moment, Ciana’s heart sank. The way his eyes widened, the way he repeated the words as though they were completely foreign to him, she was ready to rescue him from his own uncertainty, to tell him never mind, that it had been a foolish notion after all. But then that boyish light broke across his face, and when he beamed at her like that, she couldn’t help but mirror it, laughter bubbling up before she could stop it.

“The masquerade,” she repeated softly, her pulse fluttering like the hem of her gown in a breeze. The very thought of it was intoxicating. And him, this handsome, entirely unrefined rogue, bowing low before her, dark hair falling into his eyes, pretending at courtly grace while still every inch himself.

“Oh heavens, stop,” she laughed, lifting her hand to fan her warm face as if that might cool the sudden flush of delight there. “You’ll make the ladies faint if you keep that up.”

She dipped in a graceful curtsy, chin lowered, the faintest smirk playing at her lips. “Why, my most charming lord,” she replied, voice rich with teasing formality, “I would be absolutely delighted to attend the masquerade with you.”

When she rose, her gaze caught his and lingered, her lips curved into something equal parts daring and sweet. “I’ve always wanted to dance with a handsome rogue.” she sighed, stumbling and reaching for him, a little light headed..

"I, should get out of the sun.."
 
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Had he not accomplished enough in life if but to make her laugh? He thought so. Yes. If he died and the last notes he heard were of her laughter, he thought he might die happy.

How strange, when he’d been convinced but a month ago that he’d be dead floating in the river by year’s end, with no one to care, staring sightless up at all the things he’d never accomplished.

She made him want to live.

Or maybe it was that just being around her made him feel alive. Yes, that must be it.

Galen pulled her close, out of the light and deeper into the shade of the willow. He pulled her hood up around her head.

“Guess we should be getting you back.”

They left the willow behind and made their way back to her manor, sneaking up past the maids with a spell of invisibility, until he brought her safe back to her room.

“I suppose I’ll need to find proper clothes. Can’t just tap a wand and turn me into a prince,” he smirked, “What will you be wearing? I bet you have a hundred dresses. Let’s see them.”

The mage placed his tricorn on her head jokingly, tilting the pointed brim low, then plopped himself down expectantly in the nearest arm chair, one leg crossed over his knee.

Galen might have been many things, but a fashion criminal he was not.

“How else am I supposed to go out and s- uh, acquire a matching outfit?”

Ciana
 
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Ciana could still feel the sun thrumming in her veins, the residual warmth beneath her skin, every heartbeat felt charged, electric. It was dizzying, and even as Galen pulled her hood up, she couldn’t help but glance toward the light one last time before letting him tug her back toward the manor. Perhaps it was time she started seeing it as a gift, and not a curse, that the sun gave her power. She just had to learn how to use it properly..

The moment they vanished beneath his spell, she caught her breath, clutching at his arm as the world shimmered around them. “I’ll never grow used to that,” she whispered, half in awe, half in laughter, though her heart thumped wildly as always when he used his magic. The way the air bent and blurred, the way his fingers brushed hers, it made her dizzy in a very different way.

Once back in her room, she lowered her hood and turned to face him, cheeks flushed, that familiar grin tugging at his lips as he crowned her with his tricorn.

“I have a few,” she said with a smirk, tipping her head so the hat sat at a rakish angle. “Though I’m not sure any will be special enough for our first dance. And I shall need a mask, of course…” she added thoughtfully.

She crossed the room to her wardrobe, fingers brushing over silks and velvets, the faint scent of citrus and lilies rising from the folds. Blues, greys, soft greens to compliment her skin and hair, her mother’s hand in her taste lingering there still.

With a mischievous look over her shoulder, she lifted three hangers from the rack and hung them over the vanity screen.

And then, scandalously, she tossed his hat back over the screen for him to catch as the sound of rustling silk followed. She tried not to think about what she was doing, undressing with a man in the same room. A man not her husband, but something infinitely more dangerous.

“Ready?” she called, her voice softer now.

When she stepped out, the first dress she wore was midnight blue, the fabric smooth as still water and stitched with silver threads that caught the light like a thousand tiny stars. The neckline swept gently across her collarbones, modest yet shaped enough to hint at her - now much less scrawny- curves. The sleeves hung sheer and loose, glimmering faintly with every movement.

Ciana turned slowly, fingers gathering her skirts as she gave him a twirl, the embroidery scattering the lamplight into constellations. “Well?” she asked, laughing breathlessly. “Do I look like someone you’d wish to dance with, my lord?”

She lingered only long enough for him to answer before disappearing behind the screen again. The next dress was a soft seafoam green, delicate and ethereal, with gossamer layers that drifted as she walked — the colour of a wave just before it breaks. The bodice was trimmed in pale gold thread, and the sleeves were nearly transparent, falling like mist from her shoulders.

The third was silver-grey, simple but exquisite, with a narrow waist, a shimmer like moonlight over still water. Her hair, unpinned now, fell in golden waves down her back as she turned to face him once more, fingers brushing her skirts.

"I don't know.. I'm not sure they quite fit in with the other Ladies here. The styles here are quite different. A visit to the modiste, I think.. And you will not be stealing anything.." she said, giving him a knowing look. "There is no need. I asked you to ask me, it's only fair that I ensure you're appropriately clothed." she grinned.
 
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Galen busily picked his jaw up off the ground. Three times, as it happened.

“Oh gods,” he whispered at the sight of the first dress. The deepest blues, the silvery threading, the collarbones. Galen swallowed, adjusting his hat on his head.

“Can’t speak for any Lords, but I’d give you a right proper twirl in that,” he said, a roguish grin slashing across his face.

The second looked all green and gold and Galen nodded appreciatively, with an impressed “Wow.” And a “Miss Seabreeze herself.”

The last had him gaping, all sleek lines and the colors… like she wore moon beams themselves. The way her golden tresses fell loose and free on the silvery dress made his stomach do a flip.

A hungry look came into his cobalt eyes as he looked on her and he felt a surge of heat and an ache to sweep her off her feet right then and there. He tilted his tricorn low. The mage did not stand up from the arm chair, though he shifted slightly and made a gesture, causing a wind to pick up from nowhere and spin about her, blowing her hair and dress with a gentle breeze just enough to set her blonde hair and silvery dress floating.

“The only thing I’m looking to steal happens to be right in front of me.”

Ciana
 
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Ciana could feel his gaze before she even dared to meet it, like a touch that grazed her skin from across the room. Each time he spoke, something in her chest fluttered violently, her composure threatening to come undone. The way he complimented her made her breath catch, the way his eyes darkened on the last one made her forget every reason she shouldn’t be here, like this, before him.

When the faint wind he conjured lifted her hair and skirts, it stole the rest of her restraint with it. The air seemed to hum between them, alive with her magic, his magic, and something else entirely.

She smiled, and her blush deepened, heat pooling low in her stomach as he spoke those final words. Goodness.

For a heartbeat she stood very still, the pulse in her throat a wild drum. And then, bold and reckless, she crossed the short space between them.

“Steal me?” she murmured, her voice barely above the whisper of his conjured wind. Her heart hammered so hard she thought he might feel it as she sank slowly into his lap, her silvery skirts spilling over his legs like liquid light. The world seemed to shrink to the space between their eyes.

Her fingers found the brim of his tricorn and lifted it gently from his head, setting it aside. Then, softer still, she touched his chin, coaxing his face upward to hers.

“How can you steal what is already yours?..”

The words trembled on her lips, half a confession, half a dare, before she closed the last inch between them and kissed him, tentative at first, then certain, her hand curling against his jaw as if anchoring herself to the very moment she’d been too afraid to imagine.
 
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“I-“

Unprepared for her sudden forwardness, his tongue knotted up for a moment. He went very still, gazing up into those sky blue eyes as she sat atop his lap. He could feel the warmth of her through that slip of moonlight fabric, her legs over his knee, body pressed so close against him.

Then their lips met and he felt that thrill of electricity crackle through him again, as if his hair might stand on end. It set his fingers and toes tingling and his breath zapped away in an instant as he kissed her back, mirroring her intensity. Her palm felt warm against his face and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply of the smell of her hair, her skin.

Already his?

He didn’t think his heart could beat any faster yet there it was, threatening to beat its way right out of his ribcage. One hand found her leg, curled across his lap. The silky soft folds of the gray dress frustrated his fingers as they ran up her calf and down again, feeling the outline of her slender muscles through the fabric.

The ache turned desperate, longing, pining to feel every part of her until at last his fingers found the hem of her dress and slipped beneath, feeling first her toes, the curve of her foot, then questing higher for the smooth warmth of her skin.

Lips still locked, breathless, Galen dared not break free to catch air - desperately hungry for more of her, for all of her. His hat tilted askew as they crushed against one another. He’d gladly trade all the air in his lungs just to touch her once.

Ciana
 
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Ciana’s breath caught as their lips met. For an instant, the world disappeared. There was no room, no air, no light, only him. Only the shock of his warmth and the dizzying flutter of her own heart pounding against her ribs.

The kiss was soft at first, searching, tentative then it deepened, and the spark that leapt between them stole what little sense she had left. Her fingers trembled as they clutched at his collar, the thrum of her pulse quickening until it was all she could hear.

It shouldn’t have felt like this. She shouldn’t have wanted like this. Yet the longer she lingered in that breathless closeness, the more her thoughts unravelled.

When his touch slid along the folds of her dress, a tremor ran through her. Her skin burned where his fingers brushed, the heat spreading through her like wildfire. Her stomach twisted with nervous butterflies, her breath hitching between their kisses.

For a moment, just one reckless heartbeat, she wondered what it would be like to let go of everything else: the rules, the expectations, the world waiting outside this room.

But she was still herself. The dutiful daughter. The noble who was not supposed to feel like this. To let this continue would be to risk everything.

And yet… as his mouth, his hands left her breathless and trembling, she thought that perhaps, just this once, she did not care.
 
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The deepening kiss drove him crazy. Yes, that’s right, Galen thing to himself, you’re going to go insane. No, you already ARE insane. Kissing a noble lady. Trying to… to…

All other thoughts fled away, her fingers tugging at his collar, her lips all over his. He grinned against her kiss, then drug at her lower lip with his teeth.

Up the length of her bare calf beneath the dress, those nimble thief’s fingers whispered. They followed the warmth of her skin up, up, up, cresting over, a finger tracing just behind her knee. Until now, fabric bunching around his wrist, his hand glided along the curve of her thigh where he could feel the heat of her skin.

This only worsened the growing, insistent ache of want which, seated on his lap, she surely felt. His throat constricted at the thought as need rifled through his body.

His fingernails skated across her skin, dragging softly higher and higher until he felt the curve of her hip.

Yes, he was definitely going insane.

“Gods,” he whispered, breaking the kiss only to press his lips against the ivory of her neck, “I want you more than air.”

Ciana
 
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Ciana’s breath came quick and shallow, her pulse thrumming like a trapped bird in her chest. Every inch of her skin felt alive, aware of his closeness, of the warmth of his hands, of the soft rasp of his breath against her neck.

She had never been touched like this before. Never even imagined she might crave such closeness. The flutter in her stomach grew wild, tangled somewhere between fear and exhilaration, between wanting to flee and never wanting to move at all.

Her fingers clutched at his coat, holding fast. “Galen…” she breathed, his name a tremor on her lips. It wasn’t a protest, but a confession of how undone she was.

He had changed everything. This place, this impossible friendship, this feeling.. it had stripped away the layers of duty and propriety until all that was left was her heart, bare and trembling in her chest.

Her thoughts tumbled recklessly through her mind. She was never going back home, never reclaiming the life that had been carved for her. They would not allow it, and so for once, she wanted to live for herself. She wanted to explore whatever this was..

She drew back just far enough to meet his gaze, her cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes wide and uncertain but shining all the same. “I don’t know what comes next,” she whispered, “but I don’t want to be afraid of it anymore.. I just.. Whatever happens I don't want to disappoint you.." she frowned..
 
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“Disappoint me?”

Galen blinked owlishly at her, confused and breathless. The folds of her dress bunched around his arm as his hand rested on her hip, fingers toying with a lace of fabric there that wasn’t part of the dress. No, not at all. He felt foolish for a moment, but then he always felt foolish.

Hang on, did she say she didn’t know what came next? Of course she didn’t. Why would she?

Galen lost himself for a moment in the depths of her eyes, the same shade of blue as a cloudless sky in summer. The sun must hate her because she outshone it.

“You’d never. If anything it’s the other way around,” he chuckled, then licked his lips that had suddenly grown quite parched and swallowed. A lock of dark hair drifted over one of his eyes as he shifted his head, “Do you… want me to show you what comes next?”

A finger traced the beginning of the shallow groove that started under her hip bone, desperate to follow where it led - skin warm and smooth and supple at his touch.

Gods.

Ciana
 
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