Private Tales A Name From The Past

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Lorelei's gaze took on a strange air of dark mirth as she lifted an arm to settle along the top of her backrest where her hand could easily comb through the scarlet waves and rid them of lingering sea spray salt, "We used to farm them... a long time ago."
 
Brows raised up there and then he snorted.

"My word, the things you have been up to." Teasing her lightly. "And I thought I was the bad one of the two of us."

He looked down at his hands for a moment. Lost there briefly until his hands squeezed and Fane looked back up at her.

"Well, I guess the prison will be your new farm."

Curious at that.

"Are you going to differentiate? A murderer or a thief? Or will you feed on anyone passing through the prison?"
 
"Not everything is suitable for crafting blodwyne," she admitted, "the sickly or diseased for one. The elderly. The cursed or corrupted. Healthy stock is essential for quality product. Their transgressions against society make little difference."

Though prisoners willing to work for their freedom could also be put to use elsewhere.

"Does this bother you?" Lorelei asked, "Turning other beings into cattle for my family's survival?"
 
A soft hum as he looked at her, head tilting a touch.

"Why would it bother me? They are dying one way or another. Does it matter if they die in eighty year of old age or during a prison sentence? At least this way they will be of use to someone other than themselves." She was lucky in that regard.

Having an immortal as a consort meant the idea of 'life' being holy was a silly notion.

All that mortals did was die... one way or the other.

He leaned in and tapped her nose lightly.

"I am not human, darling. Not anymore at least. You need not worry that I will worry about them. No, I was just curious, I have never ruled with someone of your kind before. It is interesting."
 
That was precisely her own line of thinking. Prisons made for very useful farms if they were run right. The most difficult part would be the continued import of fresh inmates, especially if this new young King was cutting off his current contracts and burning proverbial bridges. There was going to be a lot of damage control that had nothing to do with the siege.

A quick blink at the tap of her nose and her eyes followed the offending hand the way a viper might, coiled and willing to strike back.

"You do not need to be human to hold a moral compass that would find such things reproachful."
 
He smirked at her following eyes.

His fingers waggling in the air... almost like an invitation to leap towards him and strike.

Fane laughed lightly, but she wasn't entirely wrong. "No, I suppose not. However, these hands have murdered and killed and slaughtered so many sentient creatures, Darke. Some like to pretend that just because we are on a battlefield that somehow makes it better."

A shrug.

"I don't have any of those illusions. So no, farm away. But don't be surprised if we will have to put down a rebellion or two if it gets out."
 
Eyes narrowed, unamused.

"I will not be," surprised, that is, "but you will be quite busy if they do."

He wanted authority, after all, and that came with responsibilities.

They arrived at the estate not long after, greeted by the Lord of the manor: Bancroft. He would be considered a tall man were he not standing in the company of the Lady Darke and her oversized shadow, but he was an older and stately sort. Trim physique, tailored suit, grey hair and beard with brown eyes squinting out from behind small and rounded glasses.

Smiling broadly as she strode inside, he moved to greet her first with a kiss to her hand, "My Lady Lore, I hope your day has been fruitful. Did my Merchant deliver for you?'

"Zeviir has proven to be an excellent help," she replied, "I would like to keep him."

"Ohhh well, we can certainly discuss that. And who... great Gods, who is this man?"

"This is my intended," she smiled levelly with a look aside to Fane, "Blackburn Fane. Fane, please meet my generous host, Lord Bancroft."

"Not the same that has been causing a ruckus in the taverns?"

"I'm afraid so..." she smirked, "we are old friends."
 
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"Oh, but I enjoy being busy, darling."

That wasn't just a line either.

The only times he got really into trouble (wrecking taverns and the sort) was when Blackburn Fane didn't have anything better to do. Then he found himself with things to be occupied by. Usually that became punching and fucking around.

He listened impassively to the exchange between the Lord and the would-be Queen.

"What else are taverns good for if not a good fist match and drinks, Bancroft?" He said it casually, but didn't even really look much at the Lord. He was as many Lords were. Severe, powerful in title, but he had the distinct feeling he could snap him over his knee without too much issue.

Someone like Bancroft was beneath his notice.

"Please meeting you." Said belatedly as he felt the distinct displeasure from his wife-to-be. Then his hand settled on Lor's shoulder, squeezing there a little. "We should wash the sand off of us before dinner, shouldn't we, dear?"
 
Bancroft did not seem particularly impressed, much as Lorelei had expected of the pair. Oil, meet water.

"Likewise..." Bancroft offered tersely in return as he shifted his attention to the Lady once more, "well, whatever you need of course, just ask."

"I always do," she smiled to him with simple charm and that seemed to alleviate his distaste.

"Yes, dinner at the usual time. Will the Lady Aristeia be joining?"

"Not tonight," Lore shook her head, "she has not been feeling well."

"Shame, shame, such a bright young thing. Perhaps I will have Winry take her out to walk the gardens tomorrow, get some sun."

"She does like flowers..." Lorelei said after him as he turned to depart down the hall. Her gaze slowly panned back to Fane, landing on him with a stern weight though she said nothing. "This way," to the grand central staircase she lead, and to the second floor. A left at the top and to the west wing of the manor where her and her sister's separate private chambers could be found.

"Drink?" she offered once inside the sitting room where a fire already crackled in the hearth. With the curtains drawn it already felt like midnight inside. Two overstuffed leather armchairs sat before the flickering flames, separated by a matching couch and a coffee table. Exotic animal heads decorated the chamber on the vaulted walls above the fireplace while paintings of the sea lined the wall opposite.
 
He thought that had gone rather well.

Fane hadn't snapped his neck or bit his throat out, which seemed like a good thing. For some reason Lorelei seemed less than impressed.

"Don't this way me, woman." He said amused as he followed along to the other wing. "He is still alive and in the exact state that we found him in, you should be celebrating my progress." Stepping inside her chambers reminded him of the times that he had wealth and power.

Fane didn't always miss it.

But in these moments where he could take off the jacket and groan while luxuriating in the heat of the hearth?

Oh, yes. Perfect.

"Please, do, yes."

However... Fane did step up behind her when she busied herself with the drinks. Wrapping his arms around her and murmured in her ear.

"I apologize." He said softly. "Shall I go and apologize to the Lordling too?"
 
She would only pour one drink and had been in the process of choosing a reserve when his arms snaked around her middle. Was expecting him to double-down on excuses for his brutish nature so the apology came as a surprise. Without an immediate reply, Lore took a moment to pour him a tumbler of rum.

"At dinner, yes," her reply followed a narrowed side glance, "consider it practice for Court."

She lifted the glass, a weighty piece of crystal, just to her front where he could easily claim it with one of his wandering hands.

"Cortosi Rum," it had a nice amber color to it, "I'm told it's barrel aged."
 
He kissed her neck lightly, letting his lips run there.

"I will practice for you." Whispered softly as one hand stayed against her core while the other curled around the offered glass. "But you might need to assist me here and there..."

Taking a sip over her shoulder.

Not tippy toeing this time because it wasn't teasing o'clock.

"Oh, yes, this is a good vintage." With a soft ah after swallowing. "Do you not drink alcohol?" Curious as he pushed her a bit closer to him by her core.
 
"Hmmm..." something told her he didn't need assistance at all, he just wanted hand-holding instead of making the effort. Free hands found his own at her middle and moved to lightly rest over it, seemingly content to ease her weight back against him for the moment when he pulled her closer.

"I do not," she said, searching the shelves of various crystal decanters. Lord Bancroft had been quite gracious in his offerings to herself and her sister, "I do not generally care for the taste, but mostly I am a terrible lightweight. We all are. Some biological flaw of a system meant to be sustained by blood."
 
He smirked as he nibbled at her ear before leaving a little bite against her neck.

"Ohoho, a lightweight... you?" Smiling there. "Tipsy Lorelei Darke... now that would be something to see." Taking another swallow from the glass and then hovering it in front of her.

"What do you say, my Lady Darke... sip for sip? We can stop whenever you wish."

Truthfully Fane didn't think she'd go for it.

She was far too buttoned-up.

Something he'd have to work on grinding down over the years. Because nobody should be that pent-up, someone like Lorelei needed to unwind.
 
Yes. Of course. All the mates not of her kind had found the notion of her quick drunkeness to be quite amusing. Were it not for the attention to her neck and his arm around her middle, she'd have dismissed herself from his company simply for that.

"Perhaps some other time," an offer rather than a full denial. This didn't feel like a good night for those sort of shenanigans. If he drank as heavily as he usually did, she suspected she could get drunk simply from feeding off him.

"I'm afraid I'm not a very fun drunk."
 
Was that tension in her neck from his amusement and immediate offer?

Possible.

He put the glass down on the table. One arm remaining around her waist, the other finding her shoulder to slowly rub and knead. "No? And what sort of drunk is Lorelei Darke then?" He wasn't one to judge. When Fane got drunk he was destroying rooms and people.

You can't judge after something like that.

Giving her neck a little suck and then another bite. To see if he could work that tension out of her.
 
What kind of drunk was she. Lorelei could not even recall the last time she'd partaken, but she remembered how she felt. What had driven the act. Loss. Grief. Anger. It was never anything good.

"A sad drunk," she said, brow furrowing at the faint sense of malaise washing over her - interrupted quite suddenly by his massaging hand on her shoulder and lips on her neck. There was immediately several reactions happening in her body at once: arousal, alarm, and anger for whatever reason.

"Ah-" since when had her shoulders been that sore? Lorelei bent away from the hand, squirming in his grasp until she'd turned to face him, "there is not enough time to work those knots out before dinner."
 
A sad drunk.

He softly stroked her cheek from behind and nodded there gently. "The weight of history pulls at us." Fane murmured as his hands kept kneading. At least until she squirmed and turned to face him. He'd pause there and nod.

"A lot of knots... Lorelei." He didn't use her name, full or otherwise, that often. "Perhaps after dinner... I can work on them some more."

And try to remove some of her sadness along the way.
 
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Taking a moment to smooth away the innate bristling of her proverbial hackles, she couldn't help but think that a shoulder massage would actually be really fucking great. As a general rule of thumb, she disliked being touched by others that were not of her family, coven, or close relation. Wanting to shrug off his advances came second nature, but it wasn't fair to him and it wasn't fair to her.

She'd agreed to marriage and, frankly, he was very attractive.

It was just so hard to fight against herself and give in to the attention, especially when she actually wanted it.

Get out of your own way, Lorelei.

"That-" won't be necessary is what her auto-response would have said, "would be nice."

She looked at him, at his beard and his lips, his nose and his eyes, and then up - Lore's lips curled into a small smirk - his hair. "You must let me fix your hair after I change."
 
He practically felt the no bubbling up inside of her.

It was a surprise when it didn't come and instead she said yes. Fane blinked and then smiled... he couldn't help himself when he leaned in and ran his nose against hers. There was no kiss that followed that. Just... that little rub of their noses together.

"I will make sure its a massage you don't forget soon." Fane murmured happily before withdrawing again. The smirk from her... Fane groaned.

"I tried to fix it up a little... but clearly its all poof." Shaking his head there. "You really did a number to it. But yes, please. Give it your best shot."

He'd prefer not to have dinner with his hair being... such a mess.

Hilarious considering the state she had found him in.
 
The nose thing ... what was that? It left her blinking in confused surprise.

"I will tame the unruly beast," she declared though made no further expansion on who or what that unruly beast was. Slipping away from him, she bid him to enjoy his drink by the fire while she found something clean to wear for dinner.

"Oh," she said from her boudoir, "Mavers shipped in the rest of your outfits. They're in the boxes on the table in the study. Find something - your ass is covered in sand."
 
It seemed to confuse her but she didn't withdraw either, which was... enough for the first time.

"Are you talking about my hair or me personally?"

Teasing her lightly. He leaned against the chair and picked up the glass once more.

It was a pity seeing her leave, but... Watching her go was a pleasure.

"Oh, is it?" Thoughtful. "So you have been looking at my ass then. Hope you enjoyed it."

By the time that she was back, he had changed into a different set of clothes. Comfortable and it made him look rather good indeed.

He was sitting in front of the fire and sipped from his glass.

For the moment Fane didn't seem to be aware of her return.
 
She could move with the silence of a shadow when she needed to, though moving quietly came natural. With feet bare and evening gown of black and white silks she nary made a sound upon re-entering the sitting room. Fane by the fire, lounging in fresh clothes, looked everything the handsome creature he was.

All except for that wild hair. In her hands she carried a tin of cream she often used on her own hair to tame the waves and curls. Alliria was a city of heady sea weather and she'd found it much less agreeable than the drier mountainscapes of her home. Kuait would be ever worse, she was sure, so it would only do to find a way to work with it rather than against.

He'd likely smell her perfume before he felt the back of her knuckles along his temples, stroking down around his ears where she curled her fingers beneath his neck to gather the length of his hair and gently pull it over the back of the sofa.

"I never had a husband with long hair before," she admitted, voice quiet but still easily heard over the crackle of the fire as he nails combed down through the tresses and along his scalp.
 
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