Fable - Ask Old Growth Still Green

A roleplay which may be open to join but you must ask the creator first
Ceilidh clapped her hands as he kneeled and looked at her. He had won the tournament and now she had to keep her end of the bargain. He would indeed get his prize: her smile and company. Once he had left the ring, she smiled at him and curtsied to him like the proper lady she was. "My Lord, you have won this tournament in my honor and I shall reward you thusly." The High Lady of the Winter Court winked at Quacey.

She had come here via ley line and she assumed that Quacey could do so, but she asked anyways. "You can travel by ley, correct?" She, unfortunately, could not bring anyone through with her magic. They could guide them so everyone landed in the right place, but they had to carry themselves on the ley itself.

Before he could answer, she leaned up and placed another kiss on his cheek. A small token for her victor. She could just imagine the story Mab was going to get from her spies and she inwardly groaned thinking about the shit she would het from the Queen.

Quacey
 
Upon his return from the arena, Quacey was greeted by Ceilidh. Words, a curtsy, and a kiss. The best rewards such a victory could hope to receive. He smiled to her and bowed. Then came her question about the ley. Travel by ley lines was tricky, but something he was very familiar with. Traveling was one of his specialties by this point in his life after all.

"By ley and more my Lady." Quacey smiled to her. Obviously she was about to lead the way.

But before they could leave, the fairy announcer approached them. "Lord Quacey, Lady Ceilidh." She bowed to them. "What do you need done with your prizes?"

Quacey raised a brow. "Prizes?"

She nodded. "Yes. Your prizes for winning. Gold, silver, and bronze coins and trinkets. A verdant cloak trimmed in gold thread. A decorative sword. And then some cookware."

Typical and odd prizes. Cookware. When did that become a prize?

He turned his attention to Ceilidh. "Any of those prizes you would like Lady Ceilidh? I did dedicate my victory to you. You have claim of whatever you wish."

Ceilidh Trahan
 
The cloak was the only thing that interested her. One could never have too many cloaks. "I would love the cloak and I believe Lord Rikkard would be delighted to receive the cookware." Ceilidh smiled mischievously at Quacey. Lord Rikkard would absolutely hate it and that would bring her joy. She was almost out of this foreign court and she would soon be able to act like herself fully again.

After the fairy brought her the cloak, she turned to Quacey and held out her hand to him. It was a short journey by ley to her manor and she had actually strategically built her house right outside one of the leys so she could literally step out to her front gate. Her stomach swam with its normal queasiness. It amazed her that even after all these years, she still got slightly sick from ley travel.

Ceilidh pushed through her gate and led the Lord down her long walk. It was surrounded on both sides with a beautiful lake that went on for as long as the eye could see. Her home had a special clear magic dome that had been a wedding present from Mab. This allowed her home to have the light of the outside world underground and she could control everything about it.

Once they were inside, she smiled at Quacey. "This is my home," she always felt weird bringing people here because it was not a home. It was a mansion. A huge thirty room mansion with two grand ballrooms. It was quite ridiculous, but she put the empty rooms to good use when she rescued women from the Night Court.

Quacey
 
The fairy giggled at the mention of presenting the cookware to Lord Rikkard. Quacey smiled and chuckled himself. As useful as the cookware could have been, the act of sending it was far more valuable.

"Please bring us the cloak and present the cookware to Lord Rikkard. Tell him once he can handle a knife in the kitchen perhaps he can handle a sword in a duel. The rest please have sent to my home at Twinhome. The gates won't let them in, so leave the items hidden near it."

The fairy left and with that the pair was alone once more.

The place that they ended up once taking the ley line turned out to be a surprise for Quacey. It was right by her front gates and was part of a massive lake. He strolled in with her hand in his hand. Upon entering her home proper, he was struck by just how impossibly beautiful it all was.

"Your home must be one of your works of art Lady Ceilidh. It's beauty is second only to your own and captures your grace as well. Hard to believe it is under the ground. My home has tunnels and caves connected to it, but they are not like this. Surely your home is the envy of all in your court."

His eyes were taking everything in. Such a home could only be built from passion and maintained by love. A testament to her.

Ceilidh Trahan
 
Ceilidh was a little smug when people complimented her home. She and Traynor had built it from scratch with very specific plans in mind. It was perfect minus the fact that she had no children running around. That is why they had made it so large. She looked at Quacey before she started further down the rabbit hole that was her grief.

"It is second only to the Palace next door. Queen Mab threatened me when we were building this. My best friend is not allowed to have a nicer house than I do. Do not make me have it destroyed, Cee." She shared Mab's words with a chuckle. It wasn't really a threat but it had still been amusing.

"Would you like red or white wine, Quacey?" Once he answered, the servant that was standing nearby would disappear to fetch what they desired.

She started to walk again and led him to the grand ballroom that had been converted into her studio. It was two stories tall and had windows along the entire back wall. The natural light was absolutely amazing in here. The room was littered with stretched canvas' waiting to be painted, easels, paints, completed paintings. This was her true home.

"This is my studio," she said a little sheepishly. She did not show many people her sanctuary.

Quacey
 
The place was indeed perfect. Truly it was something to rival the palace of her court. But he did notice how empty it was. Space craving to be filled with life that was not to be. It reminded him of his own home. Twinhome felt far too big without others filling it up.

His attention was grabbed when she asked him about his choice of wine. He smiled to her. "I will have your favorite. No doubt it will be a good choice but also I will learn a bit more about you Ceilidh."

The place she brought him to next was a marvel to look upon. A ballroom converted into a studio of art. If his passion was painting then he would be on his knees praying in this temple to creativity. Even as a poet he was envious of the place she had created for her work.

"I repeat myself yet again. It is a place of beauty second only to yourself Lady Ceilidh. I am no painter yet I still feel the creativity and passion of this place. It makes me wish to pick up a brush and birth a new work of art. Truly a temple with you its Goddess of Art."

He let go of her hand and began to roam around. His eyes seeking to devour everything it could, yet finding the task difficult. He was in a special place right now. Best he pay it the proper respect.

Ceilidh Trahan
 
Ceilidh smiled at him and rolled her eyes slightly. "You do not need to flatter me, Lord Quacey. I am far less formal in my home or my Court." She emphasized this by pulling her long white hair into a messy bun and tying it up with a hair tie.

She did like it a little though. She hadn't had a guy speak to her in such a way in a long time and she felt like a young fae again. While she was thinking about his words, her servant brought a black bottle of red wine and set it down on the table that sat near one of her many couches in the studio. Sometimes she needed to rest and think about a painting before continuing.

She dismissed her servant and walked over to the bottle. She poured the two glasses and then closed the short distance between the two. Ceilidh handed Quacey a glass and then held her own up.

"To my champion for winning the tournament," she giggled out and then lightly clinked the glasses together. "I am happy you decided to join me in my home, Quacey."

Quacey
 
"And what if my flattery is the truth? Shall I hold my tongue or would you rather I sing your praises like a little songbird?"

A smirk was on his smile. Quacey knew what she meant. Flattery was common amongst the courts as a means of keeping things civil and appealing to your betters. It was not why he chose to compliment people though. His were offered to lesser and greater alike. Not that she had any means of knowing this beforehand.

He took the glass and clinked it with her own. A sip followed. It was good. She knew her wine.

"Good taste in art and wine."

He offered her another smile.

"The best part of the tournament was speaking with you. I would be a fool not to accept your offer. Besides, I did say for my reward I wished for your smile and company. How could I enjoy either without you?"

He took another sip as he noted how she put up her hair. Like a warrior going into battle. But what was her fight in here for?

"Ceilidh, I would like to see your recent works. Mind showing me?"

Ceilidh Trahan
 
Ceilidh took a sip of her own wine and felt the red blossoming on her cheeks again. "You couldn't and that would be a tragedy. A true tragedy of epic proportions." She liked Quacey and she was glad for his company. That was no lie...not that she could lie anyways.

When he asked to see some of her recent work, she nodded and led him over to a stack of canvases that were leaning against a wall. There was a wide variety of different landscapes in abstract and realism styles, several portraits that captured the persons soul and personality so perfectly, and a few that were just purely for fun stress relief. They were silly ones of wine bottles or one of her swans.

Her affinity allowed her to paint anything and everything. She had no one style because she was a muse. The drawbacks sucked though. She would lock herself away for days to paint and then she would spend the same amount days going through bouts of self-loathing and depression. Her muse took her joy, but it gave joy to others. The fates were cruel.

Her eyes fell on one portrait in particular and she bit the inside of her lip before drinking some more wine. This was the portrait of Asemir she had painted right when her muse came back and she had not given it to him yet. His scars, his rugged handsomeness, his powerful jaw, his glorious hair, and those smoldering blue eyes. It was one of her best works. He was beautiful and she would have to face him again.

She didn't speak about any of them though. No, she would let Quacey take them in and form his opinion.

Quacey
 
The large fae followed the muse as she took him to the newest works of art. It was a wide array of styles and pieces. Landscapes both real and not. Portraits and pieces about wine bottles. All it masterful.

But there was one that stood out. A portrait of a man. When Ceilidh looked upon it he noticed the change in her as well as felt its connection to her feeling lost. He seemed familiar, but no name was coming to mind. It would appear the pleasant moments had to wait to return. There was a need for seriousness and hurt.

Quacey focused on the portrait of Asemir.

"Who is this?"

No doubt he would get his answer from her.

"Why does his picture trouble you so much?"

He may not get his answer to this question. But he might not need it. Even silence could tell one much of a situation and if she remained so he would just speculate outloud until she did say something.

Ceilidh Trahan
 
"Hmmm? Oh, that's Asemir, Lord Kor Aren. He is...was...my late husband's best friend..." Ceilidh trailed off and turned to look at Quacey. She didn't want to talk about her terrible judgment or how she had had to tell her best friend, Queen Mab, about the whole thing.

She took another drink and walked over to one of her couches that sat by the opened one bottle. She patted the seat next to her. "What do you enjoy besides fighting in tournaments and writing poetry?"

Quacey
 
That shift in words. It told him plenty about her situation. Specifically it told him there was still more not going said that likely did if she ever hoped to come to terms with things. It was like that with him as well. Many millennia of refusing to admit to even himself let alone out loud how he missed his mother after she died and how he had failed a poor cursed child by making the wrong choice in how to help her that got her killed. It was not good for a person.

But she had changed the subject after relocating. A hint that the topic was touchy for her. Perhaps it was best not to pry into it yet.

Quacey sat beside Cece on the couch. Her question posed to him being one he was not entirely sure how to answer. Not as if he had much happening in his life outside of what it had been for so long. So he took a longer drink of his wine.

"I study history and literature from across the ages and races. A bit of a luxury only those of us with such long lives can enjoy. I enjoy cooking and training. They are necessary parts of my life to maintain my health but I enjoy them no less for it."

Another drink was taken. Not as long yet still not a sip. It was nearly empty now.

"Of course I enjoy pleasant company. My moments with you have brought me much joy. You are lovely to spend time with."

He finished off his glass.

"But the thing I enjoy most is helping others with their problems. We often find ourselves lost and in need of someone to offer a guiding hand to get back to our proper path. It is being this hand, this lantern in the dark, that I enjoy being. My domain is very helpful in this endeavor and I dare say it is my calling in life."

He looked to her. His eyes conveying the seriousness in which he spoke. "Of course I can not and will not force those lost to accept my help. I am but a guide. People need to do the work themselves, but only if they want to and are willing to allow me to help them."

His eyes stayed on her own for a moment. A pause to see what she did. But it was only a moment. He did not want things to linger too long in how heavy his statements were.

"How about yourself Ceilidh? What do you enjoy outside of your art and wine?"

Ceilidh Trahan
 
Ceilidh let Quacey speak until he asked her about what she enjoyed doing. She barely heard a word between help them and wine. She was processing what he said he enjoyed and it intrigued her. He liked to help people. Lost people. People like her. She was curious enough to ignore whatever he had asked her. She finished glass and then picked up the wine bottle to refill both of theirs.

“How do you guide those that are lost? And how do you know who is lost and needs your help? You have a most curious magic, Quacey.”

She smiled at him sweetly and took a long drink of her wine. She had to admit that she was lost in her life. Her mate was dead, she had basically become an alcoholic, she fucked her best friends ex…she had been on a roll of terrible times. Yet…she only wished to know how her husband died and to become a mother.

She seemed to completely forget what else he asked. She was so focused on him now. She wanted to hear more now. He had her attention.

Quacey
 
He had suspected that it would be some time before she responded to his words of offering help. But she had latched onto them right away. His question of getting her to speak of herself seemingly lost upon her ears. Curious how wrong he was yet so happy to be mistaken. If her words were anything to judge, she was aware of what she was and had a desire to improve. Wonderful traits to possess.

His glass was raised so she may refill it for him. A smile was given to her and a nod in thanks. A sip, properly, was taken. Was good wine.

"My domain is over the Lost. I just feel when those around me are lost. I am drawn to them and they to me. Events find a way to line up for us to meet and for resolution, should they wish it, to occur. The most control I have over it is in how strong the sensation will generally be. As if I make myself accustomed to a scent or sound. Particularly strong ones will always come through however and ignoring these feelings for too long is... unwise...."

Another drink of his wine. He would need to find out what kind and from where she obtained it. Already he could think of some good pairings with it for meals.

"As for how I guide the lost, it depends. Each individual is unique so what is required to guide them is as well. Mostly I speak with them and learn of what is making them lost. In your case I feel it has to deal with the lose of your husband. This Asemir is tied into it as well. How for both I do not know. You have not revealed those reasons to me yet. So if I wished to help you I would need to learn more before I could promote an action."

Ceilidh Trahan
 
Ceilidh stared at him in silence for a long time before she downed the rest of her wine and set her glass on the table. She brought her hands to her lap and looked down at them. She let out a long sigh and debated this crossroads she had come to. She was lost and she had been drawn to him. Perhaps this was why…

“Traynor was my mate. We felt the connection as soon as we locked eyes and we fell in love shortly after. We were together for seven millennia and then he was gone. He went out on a hunt with the Sluagh and he never returned. We built this house and my business for our children…we never had any. We tried for five millennia. I can only assume that I am the issue. I am the reason we never had children. It plagues me. My failure as a wife and a woman…”

Ceilidh, the High Lady of the Winter Court, picked up the wine bottle and brought it to her lips. She drank the rest of the bottle in a long drink. It was about a glassful judging by her knowledge of drinking straight from the bottle on many occasions. She set the bottle on the table and looked at Quacey with a hint of apology dancing in her sad eyes.

As if the walls had eyes, her servant brought another bottle and set it on the table. She took the empty one away and bowed to her Lady.

Quacey
 
Quacey listened. What he had suspected was the case. The lose of her mate was plaguing her. It was eating up at her like a sickness. One he was far too familiar with himself. But where his mother had a long, drawn out death that he had time to prepare for if never doing, Ceilidh lost her husband suddenly to a hunt. That was tragic. No wonder her heart was broken.

But there was another aspect that he had missed. The signs were before him yet gone unnoticed. She also wished for children and never had them. Another tragedy, especially for the fae. It was difficult enough for them to conceive already and yet she had gone for so long attempting to have them only for that chance to be ripped from her the moment her husband died.

He downed his own glass of wine as well. His was in pieces as she had spoken instead of all at once as she had done. No doubt not the first time for her. When the replacement arrived, he got up. He took the bottle and removed the cork. Then he refilled her glass for her and held it out. His own would be refilled after. The bottle was set down still open for either of them drink from directly if they wished.

"We possess similar stories Ceilidh. I never had a mate, but I lost someone so dear to me they could have been a part of my soul. My mother was the only family I had in this life. She raised me alone. Sacrificing everything. This included herself. She became sick. I watched her wither away more and more with each passing day. There was no cure. The sickness was related to her domain. She had lost control of it and it ultimately took her life. On the day I became an adult no less.... She never did get to witness it. She was gone before I could return to her a man...."

A long drink was taken of his wine.

"I did not handle it well. So poorly in fact it ended up causing my second greatest lose in life. I found a lost fae child centuries after my mother had died. It was thanks to my domain. She was cursed to attract beasts and monsters. I picked her up and protected her. I protected her for two years as we searched for her parents.... And I found them. I returned her to her parents only to be paralyzed by the shock of witnessing her father break down and go insane. He killed her in front of me then killed his wife. After this horrific act, he regained his senses and took his own life.... She had become like a daughter to me. I failed her. She was not lost. She was abandoned and I should have adopted her.... But I pushed my desire of being with my mother onto her and returned her to the parents that had knowingly left her to die only for them to take it from her themselves."

He had to pause. Even after all this time and recent events the memories were too fresh. So he finished his glass off.

"So I am familiar to some degree with how you feel. I wish for children myself, but lost my chance. I am what failure looks like Ceilidh. It is tragic what happened to your husband, but you did not fail him. Our kind have issues conceiving. There is likely nothing wrong with you. Did you seek out a healer to confirm if you were barren? I have a very strong feeling you can and will have children of your own in the future. Traynor may be gone, but you still can fulfill both of your dream of filling your home with children. Do not give up hope."

He had gotten preachy. They were words he wished to hear himself. Perhaps he was being disrespectful to her with it. Perhaps not. He was uncertain. It was hard to ever know what was the right decision in helping others. He just didn't want another mistake to cost the one he was trying to help to occur again....

Ceilidh Trahan
 
Ceilidh took the newly filled glass from Quacey with a nod. No smile was on her face anymore. The wine had started to take hold of her mind now and she was starting to feel it as she lifted the glass to her lips. The perfect feeling of worries starting to lift. More wine was definitely needed. She took a long drink from the wine while Quacey started to speak again.

“I cannot imagine losing two people that I hold so dear. I can barely deal with the one. How did you survive it?”

Another drink. Another long drink.

“No, I never visited a healer. My husband’s affinity was fertility so I know it was my issue. You can try to comfort me all you want, but I know the truth. I will never have children.”

And just like that the glass was empty. She really had become an alcoholic over these last thousand years. Fuck it all, she thought to herself and poured another glass. Fuck it all.

Quacey
 
The fae frowned as he listened to what she had to tell him. Fertility eh? He had spent a lifetime of learning the quirks of the fae and mortals. It was how he could help many. With duanann their domains were particularly likely to cause issues. With one like fertility it was highly possible his cost could be his own, especially if it was directed at making others more fertile.

She was already going through her glasses of wine and he had a question to answer.

"I fled from it. I dove into the workings of my domain and pursued helping others mindlessly at the sake of myself. If I was not helping another I had isolated myself while I waited for the next calling to come upon me."

He took a drink of his wine.

"As duanann, our domains are intricate things. We gain so much from them. But they come with a cost. The cost of my own domain is how little control over it I possess and how I am subject to it as much as any other. My steps are guided as much your own would be. I can not fight the sensations for long without it beginning to build in intensity to the point of driving me insane."

He took one of her hands in his free one. His eyes went to her eyes. What he wanted to say next was likely to upset her, but he felt a need to say it. Just saying it and letting it be afterwards was the best he could do for someone who had shut themselves off from others and hope.

"I was lost yet ignored it. My domain eventually forced a resolution. I become moon struck. The Twin sent me into madness and called upon the spirits of my mother and that lost fae child. This was right before the Spring Coronation and caused me to be late to it. I was forced to address my pain and hurt. I was cornered and forced to face it. I spoke with them thinking I had gone insane. I had a final moment with them both.... I am subject as much as any other to the effects of my own domain. That is my cost. You said Traynor's domain was over fertility. What was his cost?"

He squeezed her hand.

"Go see a healer and find out if it was indeed yourself or if his cost might have been his own fertility. Our domains often work that way. Most duanann become lost because of their domain or it plays a big role in how they did. Stop running and hiding. If you never confirmed your own fertility then you do not know if your chance for building that future you both envisioned is possible still or not.... And even if you are unable to have children there are orphans out there you could adopt. It is only over Ceilidh when you give up and give in to your sorrow."

Ceilidh Trahan
 
Quacey took her hand and their eyes met. After the answer he had just given to her question, she knew that he was about to impart some bad news on her. The downside to their powers were no joke. They sucked and the more powerful a person was, the worse the side effects.

You said Traynor's domain was over fertility. What was his cost?"

His words hit her like a punch to the gut and him squeezing her hand did not ease it any. The room spun as his words danced through her head. Traynor had never told her what his cost was. She just assumed he did not use his magic much so there was no need to speak of the downside. She just stared at Quacey in horror as her continued to speak.

"Go see a healer and find out if it was indeed yourself or if his cost might have been his own fertility.”

“Most duanann become lost because of their domain or it plays a big role in how they did.”

“Stop running and hiding.”

“It is only over Ceilidh when you give up and give in to your sorrow.”

Tears started to well in her eyes and it was only a second before they spilled over. She downed the rest of her glass and set it on the table as she stood and walked to the nearest window. Ceilidh wrapped her arms around her body as she looked out. She did not speak as the tears fell down her cheeks.

Quacey
 
Quacey was not prepared for Ceilidh's response. He had expected her to ignore him or hit him or yell at him. For her to do anything that could be called defiant. But instead she simply got up, went to the window, and began to cry.

His heart went out to her. It was obviously his fault she was crying like this so he might not have a right for feeling bad for her. But he did. So he got up after finishing off his own glass and setting it down. He walked over to her and simply wrapped his arms around her. A gentle embrace in hopes of offering her some sense of comfort and support.

He didn't want her to feel as if she was alone in her sorrows. So he just kept his arms around her as gently as possible. Soft massaging of her arms and sides. Him resting his cheek upon her head. If she wished to turn about and cry into his chest then she would be able to. He wasn't confining nor trapping her after all. More he just wished to be a big pillow and blanket for her. A source of warmth in what was sure to be a cold moment.

Ceilidh Trahan
 
Ceilidh felt Quacey's strong arms wrap around her body and she felt herself lean into his broad chest. She closed her eyes as his warmth and comfort enveloped her. He didn't say anything to her as he held her and let her cry.

She did not know how long it had been when she shifted and turned in his arms. She laid her cheek against his chest and wrapped her own arms around him. The questions in her mind played over and over. Did he know? Why hadn't he told her? Why hadn't he trusted her? She started to cry again and this time it was not just a few tears.

"Quacey...what if I am afraid to go to a healer? Perhaps I do not want to know whether my husband was the issue or if it was me." Ceilidh looked up and searched the face of the man who held her so close. He understood what she was going through and she did appreciate that greatly.

Quacey
 
She cried and she cried and she cried. Her arms had eventually wrapped around him as she turned to place her face in his chest. She needed to get it out. Let the pain flow out of her so the wound could heal. His tunic might have become rather wet but he didn't care. It just meant she was likely to see him remove it later.

"I would ask if knowing truly matters. He is sadly gone and with him any secrets he may have had. If he was the one with fertility issues then you can still have the children you both wanted. If you are infertile then you can always adopt. Either way your dream with him is not over. Knowing the truth does not change that you are still capable of achieving your dream of a family."

He have her a squeeze. A wounded woman in need of not feeling alone. It was the best he could do for her right now.

"Is it still your dream Ceilidh? Do you still wish to fill these halls with children? That is what is important to ask yourself right now. Not questions that you don't need or don't want answered."

Ceilidh Trahan
 
Ceilidh let out the final worry that plagued her. The constant in the back of her mind whenever she thought about children. "I am unwed with no one in my life. I am not going to have a baby with a stranger. So then I think about having to build a relationship from the start and it spirals back to the thoughts of losing my great love."

Her rambling ceased as she just stared at his face. His gray blue eyes peering into her soul, it seemed. She felt like he knew her so well and yet they had just met a few hours earlier. It was eerie and nice at the same time. She pulled one had from around his waist and brought it up to his left cheek. She smiled as she leaned up to close the distant between them.

Her lips pressed to his in a soft kiss that only last a few moments before she pulled away and looked down. "I am so sorry, I...I don't know..." She trailed off, embarrassed at her embarrassment. She may have been sorry but she wanted to do it again.

Quacey
 
Quacey massaged Ceilidh's sides as he continued to hold her in his gentle embrace. She was still against his chest and yet more bothered her. This concern he had little to offer her. Companionship was not something he could ever promise, especially not the kind she seemed to crave and fear. What he could offer was friendship and visits between his tasks that kept him so busy. What form that friendship took could be more platonic or more intimate, but a true romance was not something he could give to anyone right now.

"My mother was unwed but she did not seem unsatisfied with her life. I never felt as if I was any less for lacking my father in my life. Even now no one knows who my father even was. Only my mother did and she never revealed to anyone, even me, who he was. You don't need to do that but you could have a child or even children with someone you know. Someone who will be there to help with your kids. You will never get back what you had with Traynor. Every relationship is unique to the person. If having something close to what you had with him causes you such trouble then try making something new instead."

His words had just left his mouth and she kissed him. An apology and a look of wishing for more. He knew she craved companionship. It was something she needed so he could at least offer her what he could of it. He leaned back down and kissed her lips back.

Ceilidh Trahan
 
The hand that was on his cheek slid back and into his hair as she pulled him closer. Ceilidh deepened the kiss, her tongue dancing with his as they stood there in each others arms. She really needed to stop drinking when she was around handsome males. It obviously led to very terrible yet very fun decisions.

Perhaps he was right. Perhaps she just needed sex and a baby. There was no law saying she needed romance as well. It was something to think about indeed. Queen Mab had Ruosin with a friend and it seemed to be working out fabulously.

"Quacey," she said as she pulled away from his lips again. "Would you like to stay with me tonight?" Incredibly forward words, but she had been forward all day. Why should she stop it now? She shouldn't.

Quacey
 
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