Private Tales First Tour of Duty

[Aristeia Darke]

Aristeia smiled softly, appreciative of his honesty in not paying the visible scar any mind. She knew he hadn't openly stared like many have, but he had treated her no different than those that serve with him. Her smile turned sad, lingering on hope, the most addictive drug known.

Hope is what had done this to her.

Twisting the knob amd giving the door a push, Aristeia lead Alyxander into the room. "My father did not like that the older I got, the more important of a figure I became to the people. Aristeia was my propheticised name, and since my father did not name me officially, the people did. I was their hope, their power to stop the Corrupted Realm." Aristeia wandered over to the midway point of the room, gazing at the portrait that succeeded after one depicting her father. They barely held a likeness, but the cold, emtpy stare was just like the one Aristeia perfected. The slackened muscles of impassiveness was too seen upon Aristeia. Her portrait showed her at the age of fourteen, laughing and sat on a chair with a cat stretching across her lap.

"I wanted to learn to become a soldier, to learn to fight... but the King said a princess had no business in dirtying her hands. I had never argued for something so much in my life than I did that night. I challenged him, told him I could strike him down. And I did... so strong in his temper, he took his knife and slashed at my face and told the servants to leave me be or else they will meet the same fate."

Aristeia stood back and looked to the floor, the marble stained still after all these years.

"I swore I cried blood that day... but... curiously, I was too ashamed to really feel the sting and pain he caused me. Hm. I never thanked him for giving me the chance to heal and leave without protest."

She moved on, to the next portrait at fifteen, scars more pink than they were now. Everything about her was diminished, the life and live from the previous portrait gone. She looked like her father most in this portrait.

Alyxander Quellchrist

 

[Alyxander Quellchrist]

When Aristeia finally opened this final door, so too did she provide answers to many of the questions that had lingered within his mind. The truth she laid bare to him contrasted bitterly with the words of kindness and encouragement he'd just offered her, so much so that he tasted the tart contradictions he'd just spoken on his tongue.

Before his eyes were more than just portraits of a woman and her father. The truth was macabre, despicable. Each picture was a sequence, showing the timeline of a relationship between parent and child being severed in the most horrific way. And for what? Ego? Wounded pride? Aristeia explained, but Alyx couldn't comprehend it. She'd sat around listening to him whine and complain about his own father's sins, while her own had damaged her to save his own self-esteem.

It was sickening, and Alyxander found himself staring at the final portrait with an ugly grimace on his face that he couldn't dispel no matter how hard he willed himself to.

"I'm sorry."

Quellchrist didn't turn as he spoke the words. His head merely tilted down so he didn't have to stare at the pink, swollen scars depicted on her face any longer. "I've spent more than half of our time together complaining. Whining that I didn't want to be a soldier. But being a soldier is what you wanted. You even fought your own blood for it, and it cost you dearly." Slowly he turned to face her, still averting his eyes, fearful that he may look at her differently now, that she'd see the conflict in his gaze and think lesser of him for it.

"Do you know why I've served like this for so long? Why I've never questioned my orders, or resented Dornoch for giving me the ultimatum of serving them or serving time?" It sounded ridiculous as he said it, enough so that he shook his head in disgust with himself. "Because all that I've ever wanted was for people to like me. To respect me, even a little bit. To fill that gap left in me by my own worthless father."

The sound of his own footsteps echoed through the room as he stepped closer, finally raising his face to meet her gaze. Despite his worry, he looked upon her scars, upon her eye and felt no differently. She was still the Aristeia he'd met only a day prior. Why then, did he feel as though he'd known her for years? Perhaps in this strange dream world she'd pulled them into, his mind could no longer recognize the passage of time.

"But you already have that. The people cherish you. They hold you in the high regard that your father does not, despite what he did to you. If they didn't, you wouldn't yearn for home despite the heartache it brings with it. That's what I've seen in you that allures me most, Aristeia. That willingness to face pain for those you care about. It's a trait I feel as though I'm losing."

Slowly, one of The Commander's hands raises. Without considering the boldness or brazenness of the act, he rests his palm against the scar on her cheek, tilting his head as he traces the line her father had left with a finger. Alyx's gaze softens, a hint of a smile crossing his face.

"It's funny... for the tantrum he threw, he didn't break you. Now, when he looks at your face, into your eyes... He's forced to see a reminder that you're stronger than him. that you thrive in spite of him. I'm envious..."

Aristeia Darke

 

[Aristeia Darke]

Aristeia's gaze stayed on the vision that was the Commander; Quellchrist who appeared before her, speaking of her allurement... and that hand. It fit better against her cheek than some bodies felt against her own, and the soldier dressed like a princess softened her gaze. She could have had him earlier, back in his room, could have invited him to share a bath... but this?

She rather to have this.

His finger traced the angriest silver scar, and no saint or god could give her strength against the pull that brought her a step closer to him

"I think... it would take more than anger to break me." Aris murmured softly, staring up at him. Pink lips parted, her breath ragged as his nearness stole her precious air. "And perhaps... I like the idea of your envy of me... it tells me what I could do for you..."

Her hands lifted and fell at his collarbone, slowly snaking to the crooks either side of his neck. "Even in your complaints... I am moved and compelled to do my duty... but not as your subordinate. As... someone that wants you to have a life beyond your content." One hand dropped, anchoring at his side as she lifted herself to put her face closer to his. "And I think it makes sense now... hearing you speak of me like that. In spite of my father... in spite, I want to disrupt your life... and give you something else to complain about in your life."

Aristeia knew he wanted her to. She was free, she was able to control her own destiny, as he had noted multiple times in their brief time of getting to know one another.

"So... tell me, Alyxander Quellchrist, Commander serving Dornoch..." Silver eye fixed on his gaze. Unblinking, unwavered. "Are you finally going to take action? Decide to have something for yourself, and not the good of your men or home?"

He would not need to fight as hard as she did for her own life. Aristeia would not fight him on this... only if he chose to talk himself out of it.

Alyxander Quellchrist

 

[Alyxander Quellchrist]

It was almost enough to make Alyxander's somewhat somber demeanor break out into another fit of laughter, hearing her speak of doing something for him. Not because he found the idea of her helping him amusing in any way. On the contrary, her words were touching, in a way that perhaps she'd never truly realize. No, he wished to laugh because of the sheer absurdity, that this was the first time anybody had offered to go out of their way for him, to give him something he wanted, without any catch or strings attached.

He'd gone from pauper to soldier, and neither was given anything in this world. Alyx had bled and sweat for everything he had. Now, there was somebody standing in front of him who extended her hand: a beautiful woman from a land of dreams, looping her arms around his neck and pulling herself in closer. Her words offered sweet freedoms, gifts that she would provide to him without hesitation, would he simply let himself be free of the shackles he kept himself in and take his life in his own two hands.

Quellchrist's hand rested on Aristeia's neck as she drew closer, the breath leaving her lips as hot as fire against his face in the otherworldly chill of the portrait room they stood in. "This could still be a dream, Aris. I could wake up tomorrow, and you'll be preparing to return to the real Dream Realm. Maybe none of this is happening. One weary soldier muttered to the other, his amber eyes traveling across the figure standing inches from her now, drinking her in as though this was such a fleeting figment of his mind.

"Everything you say... the way you touch me now... It's all exactly as I would imagine it in a fantasy. I think..." A strange glossiness came over Alyx's eyes for a moment, as he shook his head. "I feel as though I've stood here before, in this room, a thousand times. Looked into a set of eyes just like yours. I remember this chill, I remember the pictures. The only thing new is you."

Aristeia would feel his hand tighten on her collarbone, his other arm reaching out to rest gently upon her hip as The Commander too stepped forward. Every time he had this dream, the end came too soon. He woke up to emptiness and regret. Sadness that lingered for days.

Now, as he looked back into the eyes of the Princess of Dreams herself, he did not falter.

"But if this is a dream, I wish to do what I want most."

Alyxander closed that final gap between them, pulling Aristeia into his arms as his lips pressed to hers. When he felt the soft warmth of her mouth against his own, he knew for certain that this was no dream. Aristeia was real. The way he felt inside, that burgeoning heat and fluttering ripple of sensation was real. So Alyx, content with his choice, closed his eyes and sank against her, losing himself in Aristeia Darke, embracing the dream she offered him now.

Aristeia Darke

 

[Aristeia Darke]

She dared not speak, to show him how real this was for her. It was truly his dream, one he got rare opportunity to be present and awake for. Her heart played an in dreamlike staccato, knowing he was moments from convincing himself she was real, here, and unable to disappear when his hands kept her anchored there before him.

His kiss sealed her breath inside her lungs, burning after their lips did not part for a while and Aristeia's eyes fluttered closed as she inhaled a breath she took from him, pulling herself closer against him.

The Commander had been here before, this room, but Aristeia never caught another dreamer here...

She was compelled by him, completely tangled in him after a mere day but she had to be truthful to herself.

Who did she follow to Dornoch?

Aristeia found her answer by pulling him with her, until her back was flush with the wall not filled with a large portrait of her family and ancestors. Magic warmed them both, seeping into the recesses of Alyxander's mind to that hidden mystery that was responsible for dreams. Recognition flared within her, spurring her urgency with her lips that left her gasping.

Alyxander Quellchrist

 

[Alyxander Quellchrist]

Somewhere in the deepest recesses of his mind, Alyxander probably knew that there was more to this kiss than what there seemed. The emotions that coursed through him with every breath that Aristeia stole from him had come about too fast, were far too powerful to be normal.

This strange woman, beautiful and mysterious, had come from the world of dreams and practically fell into his path by the whimsy of fate. So why, as she sank so deeply into his embrace, as her lips sought so desperately to claim his, did he feel nothing of guilt or shame?

In a moment as swift as the blink of an eye, Alyx found himself pressing Darke's body back against the wall, his hands roaming the shape of her in wordless wonderment. He could not explain why, but Aris was not merely an object of lust, or an outlet for his lonlieness-.

Every time their breaths mixed, every time her body trembled and arched against his touch, it was freedom.

As blinding as the sun, as scorching as the fires of Hell, and as powerful as the fist of an Orc. Aristeia was freedom. The very thing he'd longed for, for more than half of his life. She encompassed it, defined it in a ravishing and enigmatic package. If this was a dream. If she was his dream, then he would rather never wake at all.

"It's been only a day." He breathed hushedly against her lips. "But I feel as though I've needed you for years."

@Aris

 

[Aristeia Darke]

Aristeia found herself gasping, looking down at his lips which were now a little swollen from her kisses, but the burning of her own, the tingling sensation being a part from him meant she too sported the desperate result of them giving in finally.

Her hands clutched at his shirt, lifting her gaze to meet his and listened to him speak a confession she knew was true. "I..." she was not good with words, not like he was.

"There is a chance you will forget this..." She bit her lip, watching him so closely, she stilled before him. "But I will remember your idea to take us away and see this world you were born to and not traveled much of." If there was a promise she could hold, it would be that.

"And what if you do forget? This is a dream after all..." She posed it like a challenge, ready to hear what his plan of action was to be.

Alyxander Quellchrist

 

[Alyxander Quellchrist]

Knowing that this could all vanish from his mind, that he could wake up in his bed and not remember the stories she'd told him, the smiles he'd drawn out of her, the taste of her lips... It should have upset him. Quellchrist felt like he should have been angry.

Instead, he smiled, his eyes lidded as his shining lips took a soft, affectionate curve. Alyxander leaned forward and pressed his forehead lightly against her own, a small laugh escaping him as he took a moment to ponder what she'd just asked him.

"Even if I forget, I know you won't leave me alone. I don't know why I know, but I do." He murmured back quietly. Alyx didn't want to forget; He didn't want to feel the pain of hearing her tale again, harbor the guilt in his gut over their parallel desires... But he would. He was a soldier, after all. Feeling pain so that others didn't have to was his job.

Quellchrist's eyes flitter up to Aristeia's, moving in to place another, softer kiss upon her lips. "And if tonight doesn't stick in my mind, then there's always tomorrow night." Another kiss. "And the one after that. As long as it takes..."

Aristeia Darke

 

[Aristeia Darke]

Tenderness was what stuck to his voice, his honeyed words disarming every motion of fight and defense she had trained herself to withhold. With each kiss, he promised her a future even if he could not recall it.
Acceptance, the embrace her held him in as she moved her head to catch those lips again, pulling him into her with the call of quiet desire she had not known she held for him.

Aristeia was unsure how to articulate the way she felt, the way she thought of him, but action was always more cherished. He had unraveled her, saw past her armour, even the impenetrable lutterme she wore in place of armour. If her namesake was anything to go by, this was her greatest battle, her greatest achievement in finding drive and purpose in a man that dreamed of her for months, and Aristeia found herself visiting the dreams of those residing in Dornoch.

He called to her and she responded.

"I will be sure you never forget." She whispered, pulling away to catch her breath. The Dream Knight rested her head on his shoulder, gasping for air that did not slow her heart any. "Every night, I will remind you of this and every morning I will tell you to look forward to remembering..."

Alyxander Quellchrist

 

[Alyxander Quellchrist]

As Aristeia's cheek came to rest upon his shoulder, Alyx placed his hand upon the back of her head, pressing his fingers into the silvery tresses of her hair. In the eerie, unnatural silence of this room, one that housed so much strife and turmoil for the woman in his arms, all that he could hear now was her breath against his neck and the beating of her heart against his chest.

Quellchrist tried to form the words, the phrases that would express how important she'd become to him, this phantom of his dreams, this memory who'd fluttered in and out of his head for so long, always eluding his eyes.

But he knew better. Aristeia Darke didn't do words. It was one of the few things he'd gleaned about her with absolute certainty. She was a woman of actions. Talking meant nothing if you hadn't the willpower to act upon what you spoke. It mattered not if Alyxander wished to grasp this opportunity she presented him, not unless he actually did it.

And his window was closing, the rising sun that would wake him from this vivid dream.

Wordlessly, without even a breath of her name, Alyxander tilted his head and pressed his lips to her neck, grazing his teeth against the soft, pale flesh as his arms held her back against the wall she'd fallen to. Slowly they ran across her form, exploring her, wishing to burn her into his memory so that she would never have to remind him. He'd never have to chase her again.

Aristeia Darke

 

[Aristeia Darke]

Words and thoughts came to a still as his lips found the soft flesh of her neck, kisses pressed there before teeth grazed and drew out a soft whimper from her. Her lungs fought for breath, but what the Commander did to her only made her struggle to prioritise resuming normal bodily functions. Her heart raced, possibly alerting his lips of how erratic it became at his expense.

She dared not speak.

Not when those hands finally traveled and gripped her body, holding her in place as his touch was only veiled by the thin material to her dress. How silly it was to wear such a thing, when it had been much too long since she wore something so fine... but she felt more like a princess now than she did in her childhood. It was no worship, not a declaration of loyalty... but she could feel the intentions of admiration and recognition in the way Alyx helped himself to sate his curiosity.

Her hand at the back of his head gripped his hair and lightly pulled his head back, enough for her to snatch his lips back to her own. She could not stand to be without them for too long.

Alyxander Quellchrist

 

[Alyxander Quellchrist]

Each time that Alyx began to worry that this blissful moment was coming to its conclusion, Aristeia would find him again, reaching out with passion and desire renewed, as if his very presence was rekindling her heart with every passing second. His lips would not go a moment without hers, and his body wouldn't know the chill of this lonely room so long as she was there to share her own heat.

She was beauty, in a dreamlike perfection that he could only imagine experiencing in the land of the sleeping. Aristeia was like like the delicate, white flowers that used to grow at the edges of Dornoch when he was young. Under the light of the sun, those fragile petals closed themselves tightly, refusing to show even an inch of their true splendor without damaging them beyond repair. Under the light of the moon, though, if you sought them out when the rest of the world slumbered, they blossomed.

Now, in his arms, under the touch of his palms, Aristeia blossomed before him. Only after he'd reached out to touch her when the world around him could not see.

Her skin felt as though it was searing through the thin material of her dress, but Alyxander was certain it was he that was growing hot. The way she grabbed at his hair, the way she so desperately sought his kiss again and again, it was intoxicating and maddening.

Quellchrist wasn't sure when it happened, but at some point the power he held over his dream had done away with the shirt covering his chest. No doubt he'd subconsciously willed it, wishing to feel his flesh against the thin barrier that prevented her skin from meeting his. Either way, the Commander was too far gone to care. He wrapped a hand in Darke's silver locks, his tongue dancing with hers as he pressed against her, the room around them beginning to warp and melt at his whim.

Aristeia Darke