Private Tales Equinox

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Elinyra had not been to the great elven city of Fal'Addas since she was merely a child of 35. To see it now was no less wondrous, no less breathtaking. The ancient arboreal giants that formed the blood and bone of the city seemed to almost spiral around Fal'Addareth, the Great Tree. Even having seen the Eldyr Tree did not diminish its grandeur. Down below the wide branch she, Fielynn and Fwysog stood upon, she could hear the echoed aria of young trees being sung into the shapes and sizes that would serve as buildings.

"This is where our people first came from," she told her daughter, gesturing out at the cityscape that so seamlessly blended into the forest. Fielynn was far more interested in the bustle of the traffic coming and going along the road-branch, and she was fully engrossed in waving and pointing and babbling at passers-by. Most of the elves were quite amused by this, some even pausing to wave back or make funny faces at the young elf.

She'd forgotten about the kindness that was so common to her people. Coming here and seeing Fal'Addas had reminded her that she wasn't formerly a wood elf. She hadn't lost that part of herself, no matter how distant she felt from it. It had also relieved a great burden on her shoulders, for although they had not been ambushed on the road, the memories of the fae that had attacked them near the edges of the Falwood remained solidly in her mind. Having the magical gates around her, ones that had repelled many enemies in the past, put her mind at ease.

The three of them continued onto one of the city's temples, which was more of an open-air grouping of shrines connected by narrower root paths. Each shrine contained a statue, lovingly tended by a smattering of priests, druids and acolytes. Many of the stonewood statues resembled animals, others were humanoid in form, and some were merely abstract representations of the elements. Earthly avatars of the great teachers and spirits, that many elves revered.

While Fwysog took Fielynn around to look at the rest of the temple, Elinyra sat on one of the comfortable woven mats in one of the shrine alcoves. She made a long exhale, her gaze gradually coming to focus on the statue of an elk.

"Hello, old friend," she said and lit a nearby candle to set among a row of others at its feet. She simply stared at the statue, swathed in ribbons carrying supplicants' prayers.

"They still believe in you, don't they? They still pray to you, don't they?" She asked of the silent figure. She lowered her eyes to the flickering candle flames. "Funny how I used to come to pray to you, as a child. How I used to pray for Ayslin's protection, when he left. He wasn't the only one I should have been praying for.

"What happens to our faith when the sacred becomes poison? When our teachers become tyrants?" she kept asking the empty air, seeking an answer that wasn't there. She pulled a small parcel and unwrapped it, letting the dark swirl of green and black wood catch the candlelight. She held up Falthedyn, the dagger that had caused the blight, which she kept dormant only through a ritual she had gleaned from the duanann Vyr's captured memories. Memories of what he had been, before he'd been corrupted by whatever power was still trying to escape this weapon. Even when her mind had forgotten who he was, her spirit seemed to always remember, and in the end she'd still wanted to save him.

"But I didn't come here for answers. I came to remember you for who you were, and to put you to rest."

She began to chant, nearly sing, in a low voice as she held the dagger up as if in offering. A druid's prayer, calling back to the times of the ancients, calling to whatever spirits and teachers might remain. The sounds of the words rose slowly over the course of a few minutes before reaching a sudden crescendo and then, silence for a few minutes more.

"Rest in peace, Taethvyr."

Petrus Ritus Iskandar
 
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Petrus had been to Fal'Addas in his youth and never again since, until now. The sense of peace and tranquility the city seemed to emanate had once brought him comfort as a more rambunctious, troubled soul. But now, in his middle-age stubbornness it simply made him away of how... slow... how tottering everyone here seemed. It chaffed at him that a people with such long lives, with so much potential, could become... THIS complacent.

Bristling at the air of Fal'Addas he would remind himself that he had a promise to keep. An appointment to attend, of a sort, and would stride through the arcing boughs and glistening canopies. Nature in it's abundance here brought him peace, at the vert least, and he would feel the energy Arethil swirled with here like one would feel the crystal waters of an endless waterfall crashing down around them. Thus his verdict was that Fal'Addas was not entirely bad.

He would then be drawn not by nature, but by something more beautiful, singing from a voice he somehow knew all too well. A voice he would track, would hunt, and upon coming to the alcove would see Elinyra Derwinthir knelt before a shrine to a spirit presented as an elk. Her back was to him and her singing was somber, almost sad, but peaceful. It was a song he listened to silently, leaning against the opening of the alcove pensively, until her song was done.

Once it was finished he would take a single, soft step inside the alcove and approach her carefully, not wanting to scare her as he spoke in a low, reverent tone.

"To think I am not surprised that a song more beautiful than sunset comes from you."

Stopping beside and just a bit behind Elinyra he would look at the elk for a long moment before glancing down at her, expression inscrutable, before he asked softly.

"Nothing has troubled you on your journey here I trust?"

There was the smallest, metallic edge to his tone that one could easily miss. A sense of protective ownership, of concern for her safety, tinging the words just so as to be implied without being stated.​
 
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Elinyra heard a soft step behind her, but did not react until she heard his voice. She blinked, awakening from her trance, and lowered the dagger in her hands before glancing over at her unexpected visitor.

"Petrus Ritus Iskandar. I thought you had returned to Alliria. Don't tell me you came all this way just to flatter me?" she teased lightly and wrapped the dagger back in layers of stiff cloth before putting it back in a small satchel she was carrying with her.

She stood up to face him with a friendly, if not curious, smile.

"No, the roads were quiet."

She glanced briefly over at the shrine and the candle she had lit there before motioning towards the path leading away to the rest of the temple.

"I'm finished here. Shall we go meet up with Fielynn and Fwysog?"

Petrus Ritus Iskandar
 
Petrus would take her teasing in stride, expression not changing, and as she put her dagger back in it's bag and stated that the roads were fine he stepped forward. As she began to ask if they should go back to her daughter and familiar he stepped forward again and then, like a pouncing predator, was upon here. In a fluid motion his arms would circle her lower back, pulling her against his frame, and he would murmur directly into one of her pointed ears in a deep, husky tone.

"Not to flatter you, no."

He breathed, squeezing her hips appreciatively, his lips a hair's breadth away from her ear and neck.... before he simply released her and stepped away. Giving her only a single, knowing glance before he smirked a barely-perceptible smirk and turn away from her. Taking a step toward the exit of the alcove as he finished her question for her.

"Perhaps we should check on your daughter, hmm? Surely you cannot be away for long...."

A single amber eye would glance back at her, knowing, provoking even, as he watched her every move.

Elinyra Derwinthir
 
Elinyra was too stunned to react for a few moments. She hadn't been expecting so brazen a greeting, particularly not in a public temple. As if they were estranged lovers finding one another again, and not nearly perfect strangers. She raised an eyebrow at him.

If anything could be said about Petrus, it was that he had no fear of expressing his desires. She wasn't quite sure yet whether she found it endearing or intimidating.

"Mind your manners. This is a temple," she reminded him lightly as they took the path back to the main branch. Elinyra spied Fielynn's grinning face through the traffic, held aloft on Fwysog's shell. Elinyra smiled and waved at them as she cut through the stream of worshippers and priests.

Seeing Petrus, Fielynn grinned and attempted the hand gestures she'd seen him performing in his grove.

"She remembers you," Elinyra remarked with a hint of pride.

Petrus Ritus Iskandar
 
Petrus would pause for a heartbeat after Elinyra's light reprimand and then.... nod. His tone low as he simply seemed to agree.

"Of course, I would not wish to seem uncontrolled."

His voice dripped with something not-quite sarcasm, alluding to some sense of her wearing at his self-control than truly apologizing as he walked along with her. He would keep an idle eye on Elinyra as they walked, before giving a ghost of a smile as Fielynn made her motions and gibbered something surely profound. At Elinyra's prideful remark he would hum softly, looking down at Fielynn before kneeling down to meet the child's eyes.

"Truly?"

He would glance at Elinyra before returning his gaze to Fielynn, idly wondering.

"She is very intelligent then. The only mystery there is where she could get it from....."

His own light tease, said with granite-faced surety and humor, before he held out a palm and conjured a small flower for Fielynn. Only to then stand and turn to Elinyra quizzically.

"Have you found lodgings yet? If not I do possess property here."

Elinyra Derwinthir
 
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Elinyra smiled dryly at Petrus's remark about Fielynn, but deigned not to respond further.

"Aaabay?..." quieried Fielynn as she grabbed the flower from Petrus's hand and played with it.

"Have you found lodgings yet? If not I do possess property here."

"No, we were going to stay in the Commons," she said dismissively, hinting that she was going to agree with his offer, though she had to wonder at what cost to her sleep.

She reached over to take Fielynn, only to see that the whole section of branch they were standing on was covered in small flowers exactly like what Petrus had given her.

"Fie! No, don't --"

Elinyra groaned as her daughter pressed the original flower into her cheek. The other flowers were attempting a slow takeover of the tree the temple had been built upon.

"We'd better go," she said wearily as the temple patrons started to gape at the sudden floral bounty.

Petrus Ritus Iskandar
 
Petrus would nod at Fielynn's query, as serious as a bounty posting, as if he took it entirely seriously.

"That's right."

Petrus felt the exertion of magic before Elinyra spoke, his gaze lowering to the flowers underfoot, and he would hum quizzically as Elinyra made a fuss of taking up her daughter and urging them to leave. Petrus would stand, slowly and thoughtfully, before nodding and taking Elinyra's hand that wasn't holding Fielynn.

Only to begin striding along with them in tow toward where his property was. It was, admittedly, in disuse but still passively maintained. None had been here in several decades, but they paid the upkeep and taxes on the place and so with a gentle motion Petrus would open the door before them and usher Elinyra inside the luxurious, if a bit dusty, wooden walls.

He would give her a raised brow but say nothing, letting Elinyra and her daughter settle in before the questions came.

Elinyra Derwinthir
 
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It wouldn't have been quite so frustrating, Elinyra thought as their strange group made their way across the city's arboreal walkways, if Fielynn hadn't been giggling almost uncontrollably when her mother had reprimanded her.

Impish little child of mine,
she thought and shook her head.

Finally, they all arrived in what Elinyra could only describe as a mansion. Hardly surprising, though the fine layers of dust told that it had not been lived in in quite some time.

"Will you please settle down now?" she asked Fielynn, who was gesturing to suggest she was now hungry. Fwysog emitted a low gurgle, its viney arms reaching out to take her before shambling further into the room.

"Thank you. I will be there shortly," Elinyra said before turning to Petrus and noting his understandably wondering expression. "Before you ask... no, I cannot explain.

"Where is the kitchen?" she asked a bit more sweetly.

Petrus Ritus Iskandar
 
Petrus almost felt compelled to give parental advice, since Elinyra truly seemed to think her daughter could understand her, but said nothing as Fwysog dutifully took the child to get comfortable. He would motion the poor, obedient creature toward the kitchen before giving Elinyra a looooong look. Her attempts to sound sweet fell on deaf ears as he approached her, looking down into her eyes, before he would state bluntly.

"You know that avoiding whatever it is you aren't telling me only puts your daughter in more danger, don't you?"

He would peer deeply into Elinyra's eyes, silent for a long moment, before continuing.

"You're afraid."

He stated, two simple words, and he sighed a low, windy sigh.

"I..... understand."

Was all he said, but he held her gaze, waiting to see what doors, if any, she would open for him.

Elinyra Derwinthir
 
She returned his gaze uneasily as she contemplated the dissonant feelings that arose under the scrutiny of those extraordinary amber eyes. She'd always been afraid for her daughter, as was natural, but as Fielynn had demonstrated greater and stranger magical acuity, Elinyra had found a deeper fear -- that she was not enough.

Then there were the distracting emotions that had rekindled on his unanticipated appearance. Petrus had, in fact, lingered in her mind since they last parted ways. She wouldn't admit it, and especially not to Petrus, but she had actually missed him. She could imagine the self-assured smirk on his face if she did.

After a brief inner battle, she relented with a sigh.

"Come with me, and I will tell you what I can."

She tilted her head to beckon him to follow her into the kitchen, where Fwysog was already washing a cluster of grapes in a basin. Fielynn was seated on a cushion on the floor, drawing imaginary lines across the fine-grained wood with her fingers. Elinyra knelt down to wrap her daughter in a tender embrace before looking around in the well-furnished scullery for a knife.

"You asked me before about Fielynn's father," she said as she took the grapes from her diligent helper and sliced them on a nearby cutting board.

"She doesn't have one. She's never had one."

Fwysog brought her a slab of ham, which she scrutinized closely before cutting it into bite-sized pieces. As she chopped, she would recount how she managed to turn the power of the duanann who'd blighted her against him at a pivotal moment. How she, brought to within an inch of life herself after their battle, went into a strange sleep-like state when he fell, only to awaken when Fielynn was born. She would try to answer his questions, if he had any... assuming he would believe any of it to begin with.

Petrus Ritus Iskandar
 
Petrus allowed her that inner turmoil, that struggle, and would follow her without a word as she went toward the kitchen. Normally his patience for weakness, games and hesitance was much, much lower but he understood hesitance when it came to the subject of children. He would, after all, not broach the topic about his own siring with anyone. Not even her.

As they entered the kitchen he would watch Elinyra set about her mothering with an appraising gaze. The answer she finally supplied made him rub his chin, pondering deeply over her story, before he ventured slowly.

"You.... fear that perhaps you did not truly defeat this creature? That part of it lives on in your daughter?"

At least that is where his thoughts wandered initially and though it was a terrifying prospect he would not deny at least presenting the possibility to her.

Elinyra Derwinthir
 
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She had sat down to feed Fielynn during the course of her tale, and presently paused with a bite of grape hanging in mid-air. She focused on the toddler, who took the fruit from her mother's hand and stuffed it into her mouth with nothing but innocence in her eyes. If Elinyra had ever considered what Petrus put forth a possibility, she had not allowed herself to believe it.

She could recall most of the battle quite clearly: The raging supernatural storm that seemed to shake the ground and sky itself with its power; The arrow, shining bright as a comet piercing the void, shot from her bow to pierce his heart. She saw the blighted and twisted elk, once a magnificent creature, collapse in the pouring rain. She felt her heart stop... and then nothing but a dreamless, visionless existence.

"I cannot say," she replied matter-of-factly and handed Fielynn another morsel before finally looking up at Petrus. Though she was curious as to his reaction, she knew she would not be able to read it on his face.

Petrus Ritus Iskandar
 
Petrus would watch Elinyra for a long moment, feeling a foreign emotion enter his consciousness, one he rarely felt at all in his entire life.... pity.

His features would soften just a bit, the lines in his face becoming less intense, before he stepped over to the pantry and retrieved what looked to be some sort of jarred preserves. In truth it was something closer to applesauce and he would fashion a spoon from wood and smooth it magically before moving to sit beside Elinyra.

As Elinyra responded he simply nodded, looking down at her, and he said nothing as contrary to what she might have expected, he did not attempt to feed her this time. Instead he would offer the food to Fielynn before gently lifting the plate of food from her hands, setting it on his lap, and slowly pulled her to rest her head on his shoulder. Murmuring softly to her.

"You can be vulnerable here, with me, you are safe."

He would whisper only to her, JUST for her, shoulder both her body and her burdens as he fed Fielynn and, in the moments Fielynn didn't seem to want food, would set the bowl and plates aside and softly rub Elinyra's thigh.

Elinyra Derwinthir
 
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Elinyra accepted his shoulder and touch, sliding one arm around him in turn. She resolved to enjoy the simplicity and companionship of the moment.

She smiled gently at his whispered words. "You've been honest with me, have you not? Accepted my judgment about your character without shame? How could I not do the same for you?"

Watching him feed Fielynn left Elinyra with a sense of awe. She had never been particularly good at reading people, but by her reckoning Petrus Iskandar was a nigh-untouchable enigma. Cold as ice, but burning with the passion of a Beltane fire. A selfish and decadent man in his own words...

...and yet, possessed of these moments of tenderness. Perhaps it was just this paradox that intrigued her.

Petrus Ritus Iskandar
 
Petrus would gently catch some excess applesauce that Fielynn struggled to eat and feed it to her again, arching a brow down at Elinyra, before turning to look back at Fielynn as he answered honestly that he had lied.

"Almost."

He clarified, his expression hardening a bit as he gingerly picked up a grape and held it to Elinyra's lips, gently pushing it into her mouth where his finger would follow and his gaze would turn to her slowly. Capturing her eyes with a paradoxically firm, tender gaze as his finger pulled back to trace her lips.

"You have not seen me at my worst. Condemning people to bankruptcy over debts they gambled away in a drunken stupor, having to raise rent on a family because the city reclassified where their home was as a different district and, if I did not, they would be evicted or I would be fined ludicrous amounts of money for daring to infringe the law."

He shook his head slowly and the hand upon her chin would fan out to her cheek as he whispered to her.

"I am hardly so tender as I seem Elinyra. I merely give it to you because the world has not."

His hand ghosted up to her ear, brushing it softly, rubbing it, as he stared deeply into her eyes.

Elinyra Derwinthir
 
Her tongue grazed his finger as she took the grape, and for a moment she relished the sweet fruit juice and the touch of his fingertips in equal measure. Even outside of the influence of his grove's alluring magic, his every glance, every movement was almost intoxicating enough to obfuscate the bitterness of his words; as if he had somehow learned some fae guile of his own.

"Nor have you seen me at my worst," she admitted, meeting his gaze with a resolution that sought to dispel the charm. "Yours is a world I do not understand. I do not know what is fair, nor what is cruel. Some would say that wolves preying on a young deer are cruel, but they are animals just as bound by the need to eat and feed their young as the deer. I cannot judge you for that, Petrus."

She picked up another grape and considered what she was going to do with it.

"But I do not need pity for my scars. I think you know as well as I do that we are all wounded, in one way or another. Whether or not we heal from those wounds... that's up to us."

Her expression softened again as she looked at Fielynn, who was thoroughly enjoying both eating and making a mess of the applesauce.

"Some things are worth the pain."

Petrus Ritus Iskandar
 
Petrus would withdraw his touch but not his gaze, watching her pick up a grape and inspect it thoroughly, and he would give a low hum as her attention returned to Fielynn. Only to respond a moment later.

"Is it, truly?"

He asked, almost to himself more than Elinyra, but he still gazed directly into her eyes as he asked it.

"I think you'll find it that it is more a test of whether or not you fight the pain, than it is your choice that you overcome it. But...."

His gaze likewise shifted to Fielynn, but then pointedly back to HER, as he murmured in agreement.

".... yes some things are worth the pain."

He would then stand up and leave her, if only for a few moments, to check what the staff had left here that would have kept all this time as he asked.

"Do you want anything in particular? I am afraid the stock here is not going to be what either of us are used to."

Elinyra Derwinthir
 
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"I'm certain anything you find would be more appetizing than jerky, thistle and stale bread," she replied with a soft scoff, recalling some of the less interesting foods she'd had on the road.

"Gaaa!" cried Fielynn, who had discovered how to transfer applesauce from her mouth to her hand in a sticky puddle of drool.

Elinyra set aside the forlorn grape and started to clean Fielynn up with a nearby cloth provided by Fwysog, smiling to herself as she considered Petrus's response. It wasn't simply for the romantic gesture, although she appreciated that as well. She wanted to think that she had finally made peace with her past. Still, she acknowledged that there was a wisdom in his words.

Fielynn stood up unsteadily and started to wander. Elinyra helped her towards the foyer they had arrived in until Fwysog swept in. Elinyra was never quite sure how the semi-sentient fae creature seemed to innately understand what Fielynn wanted, but Fwysog had proven a trustworthy companion since it had appeared a few months after Fielynn was born. She'd always assumed her patron had provided it as some sort of parting gift.

She shrugged and let the two go off together to play.

"Need help with anything?" she asked Petrus.

Petrus Ritus Iskandar
 
Petrus would venture a small chuckle and, after looking, found a sealed vessel with a simple enchantment to help it keep. A warm, thick stew inside that was still hot and he would pour out a warm bowl before returning to Elinyra and seating himself at one of the tables. A quick wave of the hand removed the dust particles and he would shake his head at her question.

"Not at the moment. Though if you would come eat it would alleviate some of my worries."

Only when Elinyra had seated herself would he lightly stir the stew and take up the singular spoon, blowing on it gently, before holding it up before her and commenting.

"You may wonder why I do this. To you, specifically."

He mused, catching her gaze before letting his eyes wander to her lips rather openly, then down to her chest, before they brazenly slid back up to her eyes before he said something possibly a bit cutting, if possibly truthful.

"I believe you are afraid of appearing weak. Of relying on others. You are like a hermit crab, tucked in her shell, afraid to let anything or anyone pierce it."

Elinyra Derwinthir
 
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She looked thoughtfully, if not a bit obstinately, from him to the spoon of stew and back again. Rarely had anyone posed such a direct challenge to her sense of self. Rarely had anyone paid enough attention to do so. Meeting his appraising gaze, she asked in return,

"Hmm. And what are you then? Are you afraid of losing that sense of control you've honed so finely?"

She took a small piece out of the table with the ease of someone picking a twig from the ground and shaped it between her fingers into her own spoon.

"Could you give up enough of that control to, say, share?" she added with a smirk.

Petrus Ritus Iskandar
 
Petrus would, surprisingly, answer with no hesitation, all bluntness and gruff tone.

"Yes."

He didn't look away from her eyes, didn't relinquish the control he held over her beautiful gaze, but made his emotions clear. As she conjured the spoon he would consider for just a moment before moving himself beside her, the bowl between them, and with his free hand he would gently guide her hand holding the spoon down, gather up some of the stew, and state.

"A compromise then."

As he guided her hand with her spoon up closer to his lips and held his in place by hers.

"Unless you are afraid?"

He challenged softly, a whisper, a spark in the eyes as he stared deeply into her very being.

Elinyra Derwinthir
 
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Her expression brightened, apparently pleased with his response. She accepted the offered bite with no further hesitation. While the stew was certainly delicious, it wasn't the food that stirred her spirit. The symbolism woven into this simple, superficially-childish action was certainly not lost on her.

"No. There is no place in my heart left for fear," she said in nearly a whisper herself, squeezing his knee gently with her free hand before moving it up to caress his thigh. She felt once more that her soul was laid bare under his gaze, but in this moment it conjured the spirit of the warm sun and cool wind -- and in it, she felt at peace.

She would offer another bite, and another until they tired of their game. Once the bowl was empty, she would return her utensil to its previous state. Then she would lean forward to grace his cheek with a kiss before whispering in his ear:

"Of all of the creatures you could have compared me to, you chose a hermit crab? Really?"

She nibbled his ear in retaliation for the remark.

Petrus Ritus Iskandar
 
Elinyra's bright expression earned a faint ghost of a smile but the beautiful woman before him was sorely mistaken if she believed he would tire of her, childish game or otherwise. As her hand ventured further he would rumble a low, appreciative noise and at her kiss, her taunting words, and retaliatory nibble he would set down his spoon and pull her close. Encircling her waist with an arm as he husked in her ear.

"And what creature, pray tell, would you have preferred?"

His second hand found her chest, squeezing appreciatively, as he murmured a continuation.

"A fox, perhaps, all wiles and mischief?"

The hand moved from her chest up to curl around her neck, gripping the nape as her neck softly as he kissed her between the eyes and murmured.

"A deer? Bounding with grace just out of reach?"

He would chuckle a low, throaty noise as he kissed her, and met her gaze again as he finished.

"Or... a woman? The most dangerous of them all."

He knew how what he said sounded, but he did not regret it, did not clarify, and gave a soft, tingling scratch to the nape of her neck as he gazed into her eyes.

Elinyra Derwinthir
 
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She leaned into his embrace, running her fingertips nonchalantly along the inside of his thigh while considering what her answer should be. Her smile widened with each of his suggestions until her whole face was lit by it.

"You are a poet as well. I should hardly be surprised," she laughed and cast him a sly glance.

Her lips lingered on his kiss before they parted, and suddenly a thought came to her. She considered it for a moment before she casually replied,

"A phoenix."

She would remain in his arms for a while, sighing contentedly at his caress, allowing her hands and mind to wander freely until she heard Fwysog lurch through the door with Fielynn in tow. She roused herself from her comfort reluctantly, giving Petrus a helpless look.

"Why don't we continue this after I get her to sleep?" she suggested, giving his shoulder an affectionate squeeze before leaving the table.

Petrus Ritus Iskandar