Private Tales A Name From The Past

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
The only hint she got that he knew she was there was a slight shift of his head. As if to listen more quietly and try to hear closer.

"Mm, no? How about beards?" Fane said with a smile. "Quite an ordeal to have to handle too."

Fane sighed and relaxed... marginally so.

It did feel nice to be pampered just a little.

"I have smelled this before... On your hair." Eyes closing there as he felt the heat and sipped again from his glass.

It might be a surprise that he hadn't slammed down the whole glass already.

"It smells nice. Are you having hair trouble as well?"
 
"No beards either," she said while combing her fingers through the frizz and tangles, "all clean shaven of their own accord."

Why that was, she couldn't say. It wasn't even a matter of class across the board - only one of them had been a nobleman from birth. She had not even voiced a preference to any of them, even if new stubble was the most uncomfortable thing to deal with on an intimate level. Beard-burn was a thing.

"I have never lived near an ocean," her hands lightly worked the cream through the ends and smoothed it through the length, "and my hair has never been so misbehaved. Lady Bancroft gave me this to try and it seems to help."

Now this was something she deeply missed: tending to family and loved ones in such a way. The hands-on care she offered as a mother, sister, wife ... little intimate moments she'd never get back. Aristeia didn't often need tending, though neither of them had been themselves since their awakening. Made her feel useless and restless but this? It was a balm on an otherwise very fresh and very painful wound.

"I like your hair and beard."
 
"Mm, you know, I wouldn't mind seeing your hair all wild."

He reached out behind him, finger tips brushing her wrist. "There is something to be said... about wild and unchained, yes?" Fane wondered about a great many of things. Lorelei was all rigid and structured. She didn't let herself react unless it was tightly controlled.

How would she be if she allowed herself to feel, to do, to experience without any moderation?

Even back when they first met on the battlefield Lorelei had felt like a storm captured in a bottle.

"I like your soft touch." He responded himself before his hand drew back. "But I am guessing that means we aren't ever shaving my beard or cutting my heart short."

For the best... he preferred it this way too.

"You know... we could have dinner privately... without our host. Just the two of us."
 
She was not one for wild and uncontrolled. That had been her granddaughter, Desdemona, the jungle heathen. Having no responsibilities for anyone had given her the freedom to live as she pleased, consequences be damned. Lorelei had never had such a luxury. As the eldest daughter of the previous matriarch, she had always known she would lead. It was what she had been raised for, to take over their family coven.

Lamentations admitted to her sister in their darkest hours after awakening - what if she hadn't been the Matriarch? Would things have turned out differently?

Aris insisted they would all be dead if it wasn't for her, long before then.

Lorelei wasn't so certain, but she couldn't afford to express such vulnerabilities.

She smiled at his words about her touch, feeling the warmth of his hand on her wrist and wanting to climb into it like an entire mountain of blankets. Then just as quickly the sensation was gone.

"Too right," Lore said of beard and hair, "not while you're King, anyway."

All memorable Kings had long hair and beards, according to the annals of Arethil's history. Didn't necessarily mean they were good or bad Kings, simply that they had made an impression. As for holding dinner here in her room? Her own hand dropped to his beard to tilt his head back as she leaned down, "And then when would you apologize?"
 
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It seemed like Lorelei had discovered either a new type for her or the type for her.

The beard and hair was non-negotiable.

"Mm, we will amend our deal then." He says with a teasing tone. "As long as we are together, my hair and beard will stay in place." Then a pause. "Unless something unexpected happens. Like an angry wife deciding to shave my beard in my sleep as revenge."

It was probably risky to give her ideas like that, but the mental image amused him... and so he shared it with her.

She tilted his head back and he followed suit. Very polite like that.

"Oh, if you agree, I will go and apologize to him while dinner is being handled. It might even mean more that way, yes? For me to go to him directly instead of during dinner..."
 
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Suspicious...

Giving the man the benefit of the doubt was probably a good way of testing just how much she could trust him on something like this, though. Truth be told, it had been a long day and the idea of having a quiet, casual dinner in her solar did sound appealing.

"Fine," her nails curled into his beard, lightly itching at his jaw while she eyed him from above, "but I will be asking after him tomorrow on the turn out..."
 
After all this wasn't a life or death situation.

If he fucked it up here, she'd know he couldn't be trusted with more important things either.

"Mm, of course." He drawled lazily. "But I can't force him to accept my apology." A pause. "Well, I could, but that would rather defeat the exercise, I'd say." The smirk didn't last long when their eyes met and he sighed softly with a nod that was mostly prevented by the hold she had on his hair.

"I promise I will be very polite about it."
 
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He blinked there because frankly he hadn't been expecting that gesture from someone like her.

Then, hesitantly, he curled his pinky into hers and solemnly shook on it.

"You are cute, you know that, right?" Fane said after a moment. His free hand reaching out to curl into the back of her head... pulling her in as he pushed up to brush his lips against hers. "I kinda like it." Not a whole kiss, but the promise of one.
 
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A smirk appeared as the covenant of digits was made. One did not dare to break such a seal of honor - or so the children claimed. As she leaned over the back of the sofa, drawn to him by his hand, her own hair fell about them. Crimson backlit by the fireplace made the strand come to life as if embodied by fire all on their own.

"I don't think I've been called that before," but she supposed if he liked it, then it wasn't such a bad thing. Smirk softened to smile at the tickle of his beard against her lips and chin, "Don't tell anyone," she whispered back, "you'll ruin my reputation."

The distance between them evaporated as she drifted in and planted her own lips upon his in a kiss that took its time to linger.
 
"Your secret is safe with me, darling." He murmured against her lips and once more his pinky squeezed around hers. As if to say that this too would fall under the holy pinky swear.

Then... they kissed and everything else fell by the way side.

He brought her in deeper, kissing her warmer, exploring the softness of her lips. It was a bit of an awkward position, but at the same time it was nice in its own way. Her hair covering them both. Like they were away from the world and in their own little place.
 
Nice, yes, but not terribly comfortable. It didn't have staying power, given the bad arrangement.

"Off you go," the words hushed against him before one last kiss stole his lower lip with the barest pinch of fang, "I'm hungry."

Red brows bobbed at him as she peeled herself away, black and white silk skirts of her dress slinking along the floor at her heels and following her into the solar.
 
A soft chuckle and then a mm at the feeling of her fang brushing his lip.

"I will hurry for you, little flame." Said so casually as if he hadn't just come up with a little nickname for her. A nickname that was... adorable considering she was taller than Fane was. But it amused him and that was enough of a reason.

He left her quarters.

The meeting with the Lord of the Manor went about as expected. While they remained polite to each other, it was clear that there were certain irreconcilable differences between the two men.

His hand was bigger than the Lord's head for one.

And the Lord insisted to talk down to him in a paternal way even though Fane a few days older than him at least.

In the end they decided that while they could not be friends, they could keep the peace for the sake of the Lady Darke. Which was enough for Fane as he wandered back to her rooms. Slipping into the solar with a quietness that should be forbidden for a man as large as him.

"You know, he isn't so bad... when you have had a whiskey at least."
 
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She didn't often use the solar simply for the fact that one entire side was large open windows and a set of french doors that head out on to a veranda. While there were curtains, it let in too much light for her tastes. The sun didn't agree much with Aszai, though after living for so long she was more than capable of withstanding it through various sorceries.

It still took energy to do, though, so the darkness would always be preferred. Unless, of course, she had moonlight to bask in.

Primarily used for taking meals in private or entertaining guests with tea, Lorelei sat at the table with scrolls and notes taken from her study that detailed the long list of imports and exports coming and going through Kuait, along with the merchants primarily responsible for the movement of each.

"Did you apologize over a drink then?" she asked from where she sat at the table.
 
"Rum," she corrected absently, finger marking the spot on the list she was at before his kiss to her cheek pulled her attention away, "and yes he certainly is more pleasant after a drink."

Her gaze followed his to the work she'd brought in and raised her brows, "Well I learned how to survive on the emotional energy of others so facts and figures can't be too hard to crack."

Her expression was flat and serious but she was, in fact, making a joke.
 
"Mm, I don't know. How appetizing can facts be? They are called *dry* facts for a reason no?" And he seemed entirely serious in response.

Except their eyes met and both reflected amusement to one another.

"Do you have a dinning room? Let me rescue you from these papers. You could get cuts like this."

Offering his hand to her to help her up.
 
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Messy. No she wasn't. This was organized chaos. She knew exactly where everything in that pile was.

"It should be arriving with the dinner bell now that the staff know to bring it here..." her eyes glanced up at him over the list, "soon. Would you like another not-whiskey while you wait?"
 
"I serve my husband as well as he serves me," she watched him, noting the faint sense of confusion and perhaps even a bit of surprise? They may not have been officially hitched yet, but she did not see any reason to hold off on what she considered to be simple respect of her mate until then.

"Was that a yes, darling, that would be divine...?"
 
Amusement sat tethered in her gaze as he echoed the words. She set the paper down and fluidly rose from her chair, striding languidly from the solar and back into the sitting room. The telltale clink of crystal. He'd hear a muffled chirrup of laughter.

"I'll put in an order of furniture to the giants of Sheketh."
 
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