Private Tales Ash and Iron

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Lórcan had a quiet chuckle to himself as he dragged his fingers through his hair with a whistle. "You know, My Lady, a temper like that can eat away at a person. You really ought to try calming down a little." he smirked, but had the good sense to pause and set one foot back as she turned on him.

"I don't.." he brushed against her mind.. "But you do.." his head tilted and his lips curled. He held both hands out for her to take and gave her a dark look of amusement. "All you have to do, is show me the way." he beckoned. "I did promise not to harm you, didn't I?.."
 
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Maeve's lips quirked when he took a wise step back but the amusement faded when she felt him brush against her mind. It wasn't the fact he was the only one nearby who could possess such a power that was the reason why she knew it was him. The presence it just... it was him. Like a shadow of a large oak tree on a summers day. Dark yet warm. Her eyes flickered down to his outstretched hands as she swallowed the lump in her throat.

"I suppose you did," and she didn't really fancy hiking all that way. Taking a breath she raised her own hands and then slowly, like a frightened rabbit expecting the trap to snap shut as soon as she picked up the carrot, put her hands in his. "Do... I need to imagine it? Click my heels three times and think of home?" her eyebrows rose.
 
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His stubbled cheeks dimpled as he grinned at her words. He had a feeling that she wasn't going to like what he had in mind for the journey, and that it wouldn't be quite what she was expecting.. "You can if you want..." he laughed under his breath, and slowly pulled her in close, a sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

"Or you could just.. show me." he laughed, and before she could protest, his arms had wrapped around her and lifted her from the ground and a huge set of ink black, feathered wings appeared in a cloud of dark shadows on his back, taking them both into the air with a few powerful beats.
 
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Maeve screamed.

It was not something she was proud of, and it was certainly something she was going to deny if it was even brought up again, but as she was launched into the air leaving her heart back on the ground, she was terrified. Her hands which had gone to push him off of her suddenly clung to him. Her face was buried firmly in his chest and she practically sobbed with every thrust of his wings that sent them higher into the air.

"I've changed my mind! We can hike!" She gave a muffled plea and dared a peak out from his arms. Her stomach lurched and she hid her face again, her whole body trembling. "I'm scared of heights," she whispered, cheeks heating.
 
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Lórcan half expected her to kick and scream and curse at him, but when she chose instead to cling to him, even he was lost for words for a moment as he pulled them both into the air. He could feel that fear in her, and in response his arms wrapped around her a little more securely.

"I won't drop you..You're safe." he murmured gently as he felt her tremble. He pulled them high enough and into the cross wind that his wings opened and they could glide over the hills and valleys of forest and rivers below them. Up here there was no sound but a soft breeze, and he drew in a deep breath and looked down at her, reaching a calming caress over that bond to try and settle her worries.
 
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Even Arun's treehouse had freaked her out it was so high off the ground. Precious, beloved ground. Now she found herself higher than the trees. Were they higher than the clouds, too? She dared not look for fear of losing her breakfast and let out a quiet little whimper as she pressed herself tighter into him as though she hoped to somehow crawl inside his clothes for further protection against the fall.

Yet... slowly a sense of calm seemed to wash over her. Perhaps it was his words or the way he held so tight to her that made her believe them. Or maybe she was just going out of her mind trusting a fae, but eventually she dared a glance out of the safe ring of his arms. A soft gasp escaped her.

Arun had once told her what it was like to fly on the eagles and she had conceded, despite her fears, that it had sounded magical. Seeing it with her own eyes and experiencing it for herself though was completely different.

"It's so... peaceful," she murmured, watching small bits of cloud waft by and the way his wings cast shadows over the ground below.
 
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Lórcan's lips twitched into a smug grin as she plucked up the courage to look. "Mm-hm." he rumbled in agreement, filling his lungs with a deep breath now that her panic had settled. They still had the landing to deal with, but for now he couldn't help but watch the awe of someone who'd never experienced flight before, of someone facing their fear and finding control over it.

His smile faltered as he heard the echo of his father's scornful words on his mind, and his jaw clenched.

What is it with you and this pathetic obsession with mortals?

His mind darkened for a moment and he drew his gaze from her face as his wings tucked in, sending them into a sudden dive. She should be afraid, it was wise to be afraid, and he shouldn't have been encouraging her not to be. His dark gaze searched the thick forest for her cabin, having only had a brief image of it in his mind and followed that thread of stolen awareness.
 
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The wonder disappeared very quickly as Lórcan tucked in his wings and dived. She had thought she had left her stomach and heart back on the ground but now she realised at some point they had joined her, only for her to lose them again. This time her scream was even worse. She hid her face in his chest and in her own tongue began to pray feverishly for deliverance from this hell or for a quick death. Tears wet his shirt and her fingers dug into him like claws.

"Please! Please I'm sorry, please!" Mae begged with a sob. She wasn't even sure what she had done to displease him unless he was still angry about the iron.... and the crates.... and the Ash arrows...

"I won't do it again! No more weapons, please!"
 
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The scream, he'd expected, but..was she crying?

Lorcan frowned as he looked down at her, the air whipping at her crimson hair as they plummeted, and he gently levelled out as she begged and sobbed. He just about gagged on his guilt. Just a moment ago she'd allowed herself to feel safe enough to admire the skies and already he'd ripped it out from under her like she was a toy. His father would have been proud..

Even across realms his father still had his hold on him. The Erlking didn't need to worm his way into Lórcan's mind, he was already there, he would always be there, twisting and moulding him, clawing at any weaknesses. The wound in his side suddenly burned, sending the pain lancing through his body and his grip on her loosened for the brief moment that it took for him to tremble and growl at the sudden jolt.

He grimaced as his grip tightened once more, a little tighter than it had been before, in fact.. "Shit." he grit out through clenched teeth and tried to push the stabbing pain aside and calm his breaths. "Sorry. I'm sorry.." he huffed. "I won't do that again..."

'Please don't be frightened of me.' he thought to himself with a shake of his head, and slowly descended in calm, lazy circles toward the forest clearing below.
 
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When his grip loosened Maeve saw her whole life flash before her eyes. She cursed herself. She cursed her parents. She cursed him and his whole kind. The noise she made was like a wounded animal, not quite a scream because of the tears, not quite a sob because of the sheer fear that wracked through her.

When they landed she fled from his arms. It barely registered that he had found the cabin perfectly without a word of direction from her lips. All she wanted to do was to get away from him, far away, before he took her back into the skies and dropped her properly.

"I'm n-n-not s-some toy for you to play with!" She accused, tears glistening on her cheeks. Even her anger was diminished as her terror still rode her hard. Without another word she turned and jerkily stalked inside, slamming one of the doors to one of the bedrooms behind her some seconds later.
 
Lórcan lapsed into affronted silence as she screamed at him. There was no smug grin, so satisfied smile, just stunned silence. He felt his neck grow stiff with tension, and whilst one arm tucked tight against his side, he lifted a hand to knead at the muscles at his nape as he watched her stride into the cabin.

"Great job asshole." he growled quietly to himself, letting his head fall back to huff at the sky with a shake of his head. Not the best start.

His hand dragged down his face as he followed in after her, the large raven wings trailing along the grass before shadow devoured them and they vanished into thin air. He stared at the bedroom door that had slammed and approached it, pressing his forehead against the wood. He could still hear her sob, but the feeling was even worse.

"I'm sorry, Maeve. I shouldn't have frightened you like that. It really is peaceful, I was just.. being a prick." he huffed, his voice strained as he rode small tremors of pain. "You're right. You're not a toy. I apologise." he said quietly, as though his father might hear him if he spoke those words too loudly.
 
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"Leave me alone."

Maeve hadn't made it a step further into the bedroom. Once the door was shut behind her the adrenaline she had been running on abandoned her and with it so did control of her body. All she could do was slide down the door and wrap her arms about her knees. She couldn't stop the tremors that ran through her body as her mind kept drifting back to the feeling of falling. Even if it had only been for a few seconds she had never known such... fear. A hiccupping sob left her.

"Please," she added quietly though she didn't know why. Maybe it was just how sincere he sounded when he apologised. Maybe she just thought it would be more likely to make him leave her alone. Angrily she scrubbed at the tears still running down her cheeks.
 
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Lórcan's braced his forearm against the door and his brow against his wrist. His eyes closed at her answer and his chest ached as he felt those tremors that coursed through her, the fear he'd caused her. His jaw clenched as he fought the urge to snap in response, but her plea was met with a deep sigh.. "Alright."

Not how he'd hoped this meeting would go. What had he expected, though? For her to be happy to see him? Perhaps some egotistical part of himself did, and he had saved her life after all. He growled to himself and dragged a hand over his face as he turned to slide down the door and let his head fall back. A long breath filled his lungs, and he thought of peace and calm, thought of his apology, the things he wanted her to feel and he pushed them all toward her.

It would only last a few seconds before pain intervened, hot and searing, the sort that he felt not only in the wound at his side but in his entire body and mind. He clutched at his side as he grit his teeth together and squeezed a tear or two out of his eyes, his fists clenched as he waited for the pain to pass. Gods, his father really was a prick.
 
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Slowly, Maeve let out the breath she had been holding. A part of her had been expecting more of a fight but she wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. That he had respected that need... Stop thinking of him as human, she chastised herself. There was no way he could feel any care towards her or respect. His acceptance must be a part of some more elaborate plan to try and get her out of the room for the remainder of their three promised days together. Yes that had to be it.

It was as though figuring out the reasoning behind his methods soothed the chaos of her mind, oblivious to the part he played in the serenity that flooded her. At least she had been oblivious for the few seconds the peace had lasted before it was replaced by the echo of pain. She clutched at her own side, at first believing she had somehow overlooked an injury caused by the flight, before realisation dawned on her. Mae scrambled to her feet and wrenched open the door, blinking in surprise when he nearly fell into her legs. Surprise quickly faded though to wariness.

"You're hurt?" it was more of a statement than a question, or rather, a questioning of her own statement. Her hand still pressed against her side as the odd whisper of pain thrummed under her fingers.
 
Lórcan swore as the door flew open and he tipped back, catching himself on his elbow and propping himself back up with a growl. "It's nothing." he huffed, glancing up at her with a look of frustration before pulling himself gingerly to his feet.

His hand swept back through his dark waves and he smoothed out his jacket, his shoulders rolling as he looked her over and took a step back. "I thought you wanted to be left alone." he frowned and lifted his hands up in front of him with another step backward. "Leaving you alone." he bowed his head and turned with a slight stagger to flop into the couch by the hearth. His hand waved toward the unlit hearth, and in an instant it roared to life with flames.
 
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Maeve's temper flared and her hand tightened on the door handle as she quietly contemplated slamming it in his face. Perhaps she could spend all three days locked inside - did it count if it was spending time together if they were simply under the same roof? But it was hard to ignore the pain in her side and the fact he had confirmed it was coming from him. She found her teeth together as she slowly edged the door closed, then let out an exasperated sigh and released the handle altogether.

"That was until a shooting pain went down my side that isn't from any wound I have," she folded her arms over her stomach and slowly walked over to the couch that was positioned opposite the one the fae prince had claimed. Awkwardly she perched on the arm. "Was it the crates that I pushed on you?"

It would be a lie if she didn't say she wouldn't be a tiny bit proud of herself for that.
 
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Lórcan kicked off his boots, making himself quite at home as he lounged, draping himself lavishly over the couch, an arm behind his head. He was tall enough that his feet hung over the opposite arm, but it was comfortable enough. He drew in a deep breath, riding the small aftershocks of pain that slowly became a little more bearable. He'd have to stop using his magick, each time he did, it only made it worse.

His brow quirked at her words but his eyes didn't open, and he let out a long sigh before answering her lazily. "I'm not even trying to get into your mind and you can feel my pain. Imagine what I could do if the notion took me." he grinned a flash of white teeth and laughed huskily.

"You think crates are going to hurt me?.." he asked, his dark gold eyes opening now and settling on her face with a dangerous intensity. He considered her for a long moment before shifting his jacket aside and slowly lifting his dark shirt over his honed torso. Just under his ribs was a small but deep circular wound. The blood had clotted and the hole left behind was blackened, but more concerning were the black veins visible under his skin that spread around it in every direction in an area about the size of his palm. He looked down at it with a frown as he noticed it'd spread and his jaw tightened.

He covered the wound over again and settled himself back down with a quiet grumble. "Block it from your mind." he frowned.
 
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Imagine what I could do if the notion took me​

Maeve tried not to let the spike of fear she felt show on her face even as her body tensed and her heart raced. She was not stupid enough to forget what he was and just how powerful he was. There was a reason his kind were seen as Gods on her island. Since coming to the mainland she had learnt that they were not in fact the creators of the world but it wasn't just her people who had a healthy fear of the fae.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and dug her nails into the palm of her hands. She wouldn't let him distract her with fear.

"I don't know how and that's beside the point, what is that?" she pointed to his stomach where she had glimpsed the inky black spot.
 
"A gift from my father." he answered bluntly. A task that the Erlking knew would break his only son.

He looked at her, trying to shift the subject to another. "And it's not beside the point. This is why mortals are so vulnerable.." his brow dipped, his gaze narrowing slightly as he spoke not with his mouth, but directly into her mind.

"I could live in here, if I wanted to. Talk to you every day, whisper sweet nothings about how fiercely beautiful you are.." his honeyed voice purred at her as Lórcan grinned.

"Unless you block. Me. Out." he said. "All it takes is concentration." his shoulder shrugged.
 
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His father?

Maeve's curiosity piqued. She hadn't really thought of the fae being... family creatures. Of course they had to come from somewhere and she wasn't ignorant to biological methods of creatures being born but... Her thoughts on the matter came to an abrupt stop when she heard his voice inside of her head. The young girl's vivid green eyes widened in shock but also outrage that he would just waltz into her mind in that way.

"Stop it!" she snarled even as her cheeks flushed at his words. Irritably she looked away in search of something to throw at him - at that sore spot on his torso - and clenched her hands into fists when all she saw was cushions nearby. "Or, you know, your kind could not be fucking arseholes and invade people's minds," she hugged herself and mentally tried to workout how to close off her own mind as she processed the fact someone could enter it.
 
"Ah but that's all we are, Princess." Lórcan mused coldly, wincing slightly as he let out a husky laugh. "Such shocking language for a Lady.." his head shook ad he gave her a quiet tsk.

"Come on, are you going to yell and insult me for three whole days? That would be rather boring." his dark brow quirked as he looked up at her. She really was beautiful. Lorcan's jaw tightened, and he let his gaze drift toward the flames, a decanter of amber liquid and two crystal glasses appearing on the table. Another sharp pain and a quiet 'fuck' under his breath as he sat up to pour them both a drink.

"Let's have a drink together, and you can tell me what you've done with that gift I gave to you all those years ago.." he glanced up at her, bobbing his head. "Your life, of course." he reminded with a smirk.
 
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Maeve pressed her lips into a tight, thin line and narrowed her eyes.

What she wanted to do was to go back to her room and spend the next three days not yelling at him, but ignoring him entirely. After the stress of the day she felt exhausted and maybe Vivienne had been right about her needing a break; she had been working flat out for months now. If only he would leave it would be the perfect vacation. Instead she glanced down at the inky feather on her forearm and sighed under her breath; three days. She had promised to spend three days with him and knowing the fae as she did, she wouldn't put it past him to go back on their deal if she spent it locked up in her room.

"I didn't ask for your gift, my parents did," she reminded him and slid into the sofa properly. When she took the glass she sniffed the liquor suspiciously. "I also didn't know about your 'gift' until a year ago."
 
"A gift is a gift. Your parents wanted you alive. Consider yourself lucky." he snorted and rolled his shoulders, his body still bruised under his shirt. He removed his jacket and loosened his collar before settling back down, swirling the drink in his hand as he watched her curiously with her own. He'd expected her to outright refuse, mortals generally being wary of fae food and drinks.

"What do you know about your gift, exactly?.." he asked, watching her over the rim of his glass as he sipped at his drink, the liquid like honey and fire that burned and soothed all at once.
 
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Maeve swirled the golden liquor around her glass slowly, watching the way the gold darkened or lightened depending on how it caught the light. It smelt like whisky but she couldn't be sure. Warily she watched him take a sip first before she dared to taste it for herself. With his question she took even longer to decide how to answer it. Initially she had thought to ignore it altogether; she didn't owe him any explanation about what it was he had given her. But... as much as she hated to admit it... maybe he could actually explain them when nobody else so far had been able to.

"Nothing, really," she looked down at her lap with a frown, swirling the liquor once more. "They just seem to be growing... First it was tricks with the wind... now healing..." she took a deep breath. "Lately some odd things have happened with fire too," she grimaced. "I can't really control any of it it just happens."
 
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Lórcan's lips twitched as she took a sip of the alcohol, a husky laugh under his breath at her wariness. She had every right to be wary, the stuff was intoxicating enough for fae despite their resolve, for mortal kinds it certainly proved entertaining. Time would tell how it would affect Maeve, but it would certainly be less boring than sobriety as life so often was for him.

'Do you drink to forget?'... He could still hear Delun's mortal pet's words in his mind and a muscle twitched in his jaw as he fought against the urge to shatter the glass in his grip. His temper was problematic at the best of times, but in the near constant pain that he shoved further and further to the back of his mind, his anger was simmering very close to the surface.

He listened with intrigue as she spoke of her gifts and he gave a roguish grin.. "Thank you Lórcan.." he mimicked in a voice dangerously close to Maeve's own. "You're welcome Maeve.." he purred darkly in response as he kicked back with another gulp of his drink.

"See, I not only saved your life, I made it better. I gave you means to look after yourself... Though, I can take all of those gifts back, if you don't want them.." he glance sideways at her, his gaze darkening under the quirk of a brow.
 
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