He had an easier time getting his necklace around her head an neck when she was much shorter than he was, and she looked down to see the arrangement he put together. Both necklaces could have been something if they had time and other resources, but the shells themselves were the winners. They gleamed without much light needed, and she had been admiring them with a smile by the time he lifted her chin.
His face had softened, catching her off guard as she saw him lean in. She thought he would stop, would just say something that they both could forget about, but he claimed her lips and her breath stopped. She went rigid, astounded he finally made such a move.
"That's your fault."
His words had her staring up at him, a mixture of emotions playing across her face, but her brows furrowed in that familiar annoyance. He leaned in again, and Monroe placed her hands on his chest to scowl at him. "My fault?" They exchanged stares, and he would still see her still work out her thoughts, her face seeming to emote every conflict and every hope she had.
"And now it is your fault." She murmured, pulling herself to seek his lips that left her own tingling. Monroe's chest swelled, her breathing almost painful as she consumed herself into him.
He did not resist as Monroe pulled him closer, her lips seeking his. Sliding a hand down to the small of her back, he drew her in, every bit as keen as she was. The world held its breath as they made up for lost time. Even the gulls had ceased their screeching.
All good things came to an end, alas.
Faramund wasn't sure who broke the kiss first. Pressing his forehead to hers, the big oaf of a dawnling smiled contentedly to himself as his hand came up to caress the back of her neck. The other stayed where it was.
'Round... Monroe.'
Slowly, as if unwilling to bring an end the closeness they shared, Faramund let go. All good things, he thought, staring out to a sea. 'Well,' he sighed, 'I suppose we should get to the real reason why we came here, eh?' Arching a brow, he turned to face Monroe, a devilish grin cutting his bearded features. Without a word, he began walking down to the sea, fingers tugging at the buckles of his sword belt.
'Come on!' He called out to Monroe, slipping his shirt up and off in one easy motion. 'Last one in sleeps on the floor tonight!'
He had left her reveling, her heart beating hard at the confines of her ribs, and her lips parted to breath in his absence. Monroe followed him to the sea, slowly taking off the straps holding her daggers and then her boots and sock.
Her eyes found him again, standing before her with his shirt off and she knew what was to come next. A dip in the water was a well earned treat, and it's scent and distant roar had called to her enough she dragged him all this way so she could have one last glimpse of something she missed.
"You really think you're sleeping in the bed tonight?" She snorted, a smile teasing at her lips. Her jacket came off, and then her corsetted vest was unlaced and pulled from her body. Monroe took her time doing all of this. "I thought the matter was settled when I declared you were to sleep on the floor."
'Hmm? Did you say something?' Throwing his shirt down with his boots, the dawnling shot a glance Roe's way. The chill breeze was enough to make him shiver, but he soldiered through it, pulling off his trousers and running into the water before Monroe could even think to make some ribald joke at his expense.
Though of course such a thing was inevitable.
Dipping down beneath the waves, Faramund reappeared a few moments later, coughing and spluttering like a madman. 'Probably... should've closed... my big mouth!' He managed to get the words out in-between coughing fits. Walking slowly through the surging waves until his shoulders disappeared from sight, Faramund turned to find Monroe right beside him. Her clothes had been dumped in a pile next to his.
Which meant he had missed the best part. Damn!
Oh well. Smiling, he started treading water as the sea's motion picked him up and put him down and picked him up again.
'Not half bad for something half decent,' he grinned, his necklace bobbing on the surface in front of him. Surrendering to the strength of the sea, he let it carry him closer to Monroe. 'You must've missed this,' he continued, 'the peace this place inspires.' His eyes lingered on her lips.
Monroe was quick to be out of her clothing by the time Faramund made a run for the gentle waves and surfaced. She welcomed the cool embrace of the water, swimming out to catch up the Faramund but standing where her feet could just touch the seafloor.
"I do." She dipped her head beneath the surface and lifted her head back up. Her hands wiped at her face before smoothing her dark hair back and couldn't help but smile at the feel of floating in the gentle rocks of the waves.
"If I could give anything to be by the sea more often..." she fell back, lightly floating enough that the moonlight washed her in a cool glow. It didn't matter what Faramund saw, even after he had kissed her. She was called to the sea, and here she was, letting herself be lost in it. "I just want to... remember this."
'Become a ranger.'Faramund suggested lightly, vanishing beneath the waves only to appear by her side a moment later. Monroe had no shame... nor any reason to be ashamed. She belongs to the sea, just as the sea belongs to her. He did not doubt that she would have stayed if she could. But they had both built lives for themselves elsewhere. Still, it was a pleasant dream.
Faramund saw no place for himself in it.
Slipping his arms beneath her, his feet touching sand, Faramund smiled down at her. The way the moonlight played off the contours of her face. How the water dappled her skin, like a million, million silver stars. It was beautiful. She was-
'Beautiful,' he murmured, a sudden sadness echoing in the space behind his eyes.
Scooping her up, the big dawnling carried Monroe a dozen slow paces towards the beach. He could feel the water lapping at his chest, just below the line of his ribs. The way his fringe was plastered to his forehead made him look quite the fool, he was sure. Not that he cared. Monroe was in his arms and she was happy. What more could he ask for?
'Take a deep breath,' he said, grinning. Then, and only then, did he topple them both backwards.
She thought he would surely kiss her again, the way he looked down at her. They were close enough that she could see his lashes clump together from taking a dip, water treacling down at his temple.
"Beautiful."
Monroe's chest rose and fell with quick succession, struck by such an honest admission. No one had...
And now, he lifted her with ease, eliciting a shocked laugh as her arm went to wrap around his shoulder to steady herself. Monroe's cheeks twitched from the large grin she wore, shaking her head as he asked her to take a breath.
"No, no! Fara, no! Ple—" but her protests were lost to the waves as they crashed into them. She clung to him, laughing under the water despite the sound being distorted in the calmness.
Playing around in the water had been something she had missed, but to share it with Faramund? She couldn't be grumpy at him for what she did, not when the sea seemed to revive an imagery of a life she lost leaving her home.
The water... and him... ot revived her. If only for this night, Monroe felt a freedom only children seemed to claim.
When she surfaced, she reached for him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind. She placed a kiss at the back of his soaked hair, another at his ear. "I'm too happy to make you pay for that, Faramund."
Faramund couldn't keep the shit-eating grin from his face. Re-emerging, salt water in his eyes and laughter in his lungs, the big dawnling smiled wide as Monroe snuck up on him, like a shark scenting blood. Her lips felt good pressed to his skin... the promise that followed like music to his ears.
'Oh, I shiver with anticipation!' He laughed softly, pulling himself about to take her in his arms.
He knew he was dreaming. Roe was too good for the likes of him, and after tonight all... this would be nothing but a fleeting memory, etched upon his mind until his dying day. Still, he held her close, unable to find the strength within himself to do the right thing, and push her away. 'I've a few ideas of my own I'd like to try out first, though.' Smiling softly, he silenced her with a kiss.
He had nothing left to say, anyway, and besides...
She tried to not feel that slight guilt in wanting his lips on hers again, but as soon as he held her tight and claimed her in a kiss, Monroe was deaf to any self warning. Even the shells lined up on the fishing line, strung around her neck and resting above her breast, she did not want to think as being only his friend. Her arms wrapped around his neck, a hand tangling at this dark hair at the nape of his neck.
This was unlike the other kisses she had inn the past, nor did she have hidden, dormant feelings for a dear friend to deal with when she tousled the sheets of other people's beds.
They both flirted before, but nothing came of it. They played it safe, perhaps, but something here disarmed them both. She was glad for it, eager to explore this with his even if it lasted just this night.
Monroe pulled away for air, her forehead resting against his and her hands sliding to either of his shoulders. Her hands flexed, gripping him tight before eventually relaxing. "Alright, I want to know these ideas you've got in your head." Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, pulling her head away enough to meet his gaze. "Count me as interested."
Despite the chill of the sea and the nip in the air, Faramund felt warm all over. Monroe's hands fell from the back of his neck to his shoulders, squeezing, checking to make sure what was happening was real, and not just some pleasant dream cooked up between them.
A low hum as he gazed into her eyes, seeing love, lust... and a little guilt.
Perhaps she saw the same in his? 'It would be easier to show you,' he murmured, kissing his way down her throat, his hands roaming freely now. The moons came out from behind a bank of cloud, bathing them both in light, and turning Monroe's pale skin silver.
She was beautiful in that moment, but... out of everything, it was her smile Faramund adored most.
---
Faramund awoke with a start, unsure of where he was or who he was supposed to be. Sunlight, warm and bright, peaked in through the closed shutters of the room they had rented the night before. He could see dust motes dancing in the air around him, but beyond the musty smell lingered something else. Something... sweeter.
There had been little sleep to be had overnight, but Monroe wouldn't complain of lost hours when she had no real clue how far the moons traveled across the night sky, her mind and body occupied with something else.
The room had come with a small bathing chamber, in which she spent some time in to wash her hair, cleaning the salt and sand from it until it came out soft and smooth, not crunchy and unruly from the sea water. She had not remembered at what point she fell asleep, only that her hair had been damp when she finally laid herself beside Faramund in the bed she wordlessly gave him access to.
He stirred, and that began her squirming and fussing at being woken up. When she rolled over, she was met with Faramund's side. She pushed herself up to grumble at him with sleep still holding her captive, her eyes heavily lidded and begged her to return to sleep.
"It's morning." She stated the obvious, but only due to her mind still addled with the dream she was slowly forgetting. "We have to go soon?" Monroe groaned, letting her head fall into the half of his pillow his head didn't occupy.
There was a body, in the bed next to him. It stirred as he did, making its protests known in a voice he would never grow tired listening to. 'We've some time yet,' he replied, making no move to rise as Monroe cuddled into him, her hair silky-soft against his arm. Lavender and vanilla.
So it hadn't all been a dream.
Lying there, his thoughts all aflutter, Faramund stared at the ceiling as the world woke up outside. He could hear voices in the street below, neighbours and travellers alike calling greetings, sharing the new dawn's tidings. He heard snippets of conversation. Downstairs, someone laughed heartily. It was enough to make him sick.
Sick? What...
Removing his arm from beneath Monroe as gently as he could, Faramund rolled to his feet. Something stirred in the space behind his eyes as he gathered up his clothes, cast about in his haste from the night before. He was angry at himself for something. But... what?
Getting dressed quickly, he eased the door to their room open, careful not to wake Monroe. The dawnling was sleeping peacefully, having succumbed to the soft pillow and scratchy sheets enveloping her. I'll get us some breakfast. The knight decided, heading down to the common room to find the place nigh empty save for a few souls nursing hangovers.
He could smell bacon on the breeze, hear it sizzling away in the kitchens behind the bar. Ordering a couple of plates stacked with bread, bacon and eggs, Faramund made his way back upstairs to Monroe. His friend.
What seemed like only seconds since she had spoken to him, she knew that was not the case when she opened her eyes to see Faramund setting down plates at the end of the bed. She sat up, her hair a little tousled from sleep, but the sheet feel away from her and the light chill touched her flesh. Monroe figured he already seen enough of her, given the night they had. She cleared her throat nonetheless, greeting him with a small smile. There were light bruises at her neck and shoulder, at her collarbone too, but she had hoped for that, asked him of such. Reminders... it felt right in the moment at least.
"I knew you were talented Faramund, but breakfast too? It's a wonder how no one has snatched you up for themselves." Then her lips pressed together, her gaze falling a little as the thought crossed her mind just now. What if she were to be the one to do so?
Monroe slid out from under the light sheets, picking up her shirt from near the door and pulled it over herself. The hem skirted against the tops of her thighs, but she only needed something to ensure bacon grease or egg yolk would not drip onto her bare chest. She settled on the bed again, pulling a plate towards her. "I usually don't break my fast until midday." She revealed, lifting a slice of bread to bite into. "But I am actually quite hungry now."
'Talented and handsome.' Faramund reminded her, his gaze holding steady as he speared a sausage with the point of his dagger and took a bite. Monroe wasn't the only one feeling hungry. But she was the only one without a shirt. 'Take it you slept well?' The dawnling smiled. 'I certainly did.' After last night's... adventures, he had been thoroughly worn out.
All that swimming, he figured.
Tucking into his breakfast, Faramund tried to keep his eyes on the plate, and not on the woman sitting across from him. A difficult feat to achieve, that.
Sneaking a glance at Monroe, the big dawnling fought down a smile. 'You were all tuckered out, as I recall.' He laughed, shook his head. 'Mind you, I can't say much. Managing to get some sleep above a tavern full of drunken sailors never was my forte.' They had actually joined in the revelries, believe it or not. For a couple hours, at least. No-one had noticed the dishevelled looks and sandy britches and if they had, well...
He wore the necklace made from shells on a fishing line, her own on the bedside beside her side due to it getting in their way when she decided to be on to---
"Yes, well, when I'm out, I'm out." She dipped her bread into the fried eggs, breaking the yolk before bringing it up to eat. For a few moments she was quiet, leaning over her plate so that the egg yolk would not land on her white shirt or the bed sheets. If she were to look up at Faramund, the events of last night would play in her head again, and would cause her to try and delay their departure. To leave this seaside town without even twelve hours going by felt criminal.
"It's back to sleeping on the earth and your cooking tonight. I cannot say I miss it." She lifted her eyes up, smirking as she watched him. "But I am glad we had this little stopover. I would have knifed you if you refused me, if you could believe that."
'Oh, I don't doubt that you would have tried,' he teased, spearing yet another bite of sausage. He had learnt a long time ago not to take Monroe's threats too seriously. If anything, it was how she showed affection. No-one else threatened him as frequently nor as vehemently as she did. Course, one of these days she would probably deliver on them.
'I'm glad we did this, too,' he confessed, playing with his toast, a wry smile on his face. 'And not just because of the reason you're thinking right now.'
Oh, no. It had been a nice break, while it had lasted. Few were the days and nights where he did nothing but relax alongside a... friend. One he cared for deeply. Heh. 'Relish the moment, Roe. This may well be the last bit of decent grub you get until we reach Astenvale. Well, unless you decide to try your hand at cooking for a change?'
He grinned, flinching as a piece of toast hit him squarely in the eye.
She snorted, knowing what he meant. This time away seeing the sea had done something for each of them. In the midst of hunting cultists, this was a sweet reprieve for them to enjoy a town untouched by the greater evils to exist in Arethil.
"I'd rather not kill either of us with my poor cooking skills. There is always one thing we cannot perfect." Monroe's patience for it never grew.
"But... I am glad for this. And, for our talk." She now turned and leaned back for her shell necklace, put together by him. Monroe placed it over her head and settled it nicely around her neck. "I'm glad to have you, however you are."
A snort, as he nodded. 'Careful, Roe,'Faramund warned, 'you might end up rueing those words.' A jest, of course. She knew him, knew how much all this meant to him. He could not picture himself ever hurting her, intentionally or otherwise.
Then came the niggling sensation, the feeling that something wasn't quite right.
Scratching at the skin beneath his right eye, Faramund ignored it as best he could, carried on eating. The bacon and eggs went down swimmingly, as did the toast. Stifling a rather ungentlemanly belch with the back of his hand, the big dawnling placed his plate off to one side. Monroe was still eating. Faramund put it down to her not being much of a breakfast person.
'Suppose I should go and get the horses ready,' he said, making to rise. 'You stay, finish up here. I'll be downstairs when you're ready.' Gathering up his weapons and cloak, Faramund crossed to the bed. Even half-asleep, Roe looked beautiful, and he found his gaze lingering as he reached out to wipe egg from the corner of her mouth.
'Sorry,' he apologised, stealing a kiss. 'Couldn't resist.'
Why did her heart swell every time he held her gently? Or that her heart skipped severals beats when he placed those lips back to her own? He had made her into this softness, this woman that longed for his touch. It ached within her, but Monroe found herself smiling, whispering to him. "Oh, no. I will make sure you do feel sorry later."
With that declaration, she fed him a piece of bacon and left him to ready their horses.
The door closed behind him, and Monroe dressed herself properly, taking time now to look at herself in the small mirror on the wall. She ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing it down before doing one last check about the room.
She would meet Faramund outside the pub, kitted up with her archery gear, a wicked grin on her face.
"Thought you might like a souvenir." And she would hand him a little wooden charm, wittled by a friend they made last night. It was of a fish, the sea bass that plagued these waters.
'A... fish?' Turning the little wooden sea bass over with his thumb, Faramund snorted, amused. 'Suppose this is your idea of being cute,' he grinned, eyes awash with fellow feeling. 'Please tell me you've got one, too?' They had matching necklaces. Why not matching talismans, too?
Finding a home for Monroe's "gift" in his saddlebags, Faramund mounted up, waited for her to do the same.
'Best take one last look at this place, Roe. Chances are we won't be coming back this way for awhile.' Though all knights were free to live their lives how they chose -for the most part- they were still bound by oath to serve the Order and its interests, wherever they might lie.
'If it makes you feel any better, this needn't be the last time we do something like this.' Faramund suggested, pausing briefly to gaze down the hill and out to sea. The rippling waves caught the sunlight, bouncing it back to him. 'In fact, I... hope we can make a habit of visiting more often.'
An easy smile twisted his lips as he turned to regard Monroe.
Monroe lifted her sleeve once she had mounted up, dangling her wrist and the leather strap wound around it, fish talisman attached. "Sorry. Didn't think you were a bracelet kind of man."
But her gaze turned to the view, the vast sea ahead. Her face turned sad, brows furrowing deeply as past memories came to the forefront. "Yes..." She answered softly, still staring at the golden reflections of the water. "I would like that."
And perhaps one day, the sea would give her courage to visit Cathmore, west down the coastline from here.
Monroe turned to Faramund, sizing him up with a deep inhale. "Well. Back to Astenvale and constant whispers about the cultists."
Before she could convince herself to stay, she gave her horse command to start up the hill, not once turning to look back at the call of the waves crashing into the sand, or to look above at the gulls. It had been a well needed reprieve, perhaps an enlightening night, but Monroe was exceptionally skilled at leaving things behind.
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