Private Tales Vintage

[Fieravene]

"Is it so strange that a wanderer such as myself who has spent the majority of her life on the road would seek a place of comfort and luxury to retire to from time to time?" Fiera fixed the man with a simple, sanguine smile, red eyes faintly glowing in the darker light of the cellar.

"I enjoy the courts of nobles for the same reason you enjoy having Gideon in your employ; they are mildly entertaining. And like I said..." she raised her other gloved hand to gently gesture where he could see, "it's not very often I take company with a King without being in irons. Call it a novel pleasure."

 

[Gerra]

“Novelty is never to be underestimated.”

He glanced at her raised wrist.

“But not all chains are made of iron...”

Full lips curled into a leonine smile.

 

[Fieravene]

"And there are no chains that can hold me," the elf smiled back, "do we have an accord?"

 

[Gerra]

“That remains to be seen.”

His fingers drummed on the table, then he nodded.

“We do. Please, take a bottle on your way out.”

 

[Fieravene]

She smirked.

"You are most gracious, but I shant spoil myself. Save the next bottle for my imminent return, hm? I'll see myself out." Sliding from the chair she doffed a cordial dip of her head to the King before the noking of her boot heels announced her exit from the cellar and his vineyard estate.