Private Tales Whispers Beneath the Battlements

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Talorgan’s gaze lingered on her a moment longer before he nodded. Then he followed, moving down the hall in silence. The boards creaked faintly beneath his boots, a sound almost too loud for a home like this, where everything gleamed and felt touched by care. He watched every sway of hips as they ascended.

He stopped at the door and looked in. It was comfortable and in a glance he could see how it suited her. He stepped inside, the weight of his presence making the space feel smaller at once.

His hands flexed at his sides, unsure what to do with the stillness.

"Feels different being inside walls again," he said quietly, his tone thoughtful. "I’ll try not to bring the wild with me."

It was a lie to tease her. His dragon didn't breathe fire, he was accustomed to cold nights under the stars. Any room would do for him.

When he looked back at her, his expression softened. The sharpness in his features eased; he seemed younger for a moment, more uncertain.

He reached to touch the frame of the door, fingertips grazing the polished wood. He pretended she didn't have his complete attention.

"You’ve built yourself something strong here, Faye." A faint, genuine smile flickered across his face. "Thank you for letting me in."
 
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Faye regarded him with a raised brow.

"Of course. Wild or not, I want you here. In fact, I always liked your wild..." She approached him, making sure her eyes reflected what she meant. Sidling up to him, she tilted her head back to let her dark curtain of hair fall behind her. "It is taming you to an extent that also intrigues me."

The beauty smiled up at him before turning her back on him. Her fingers reached for the laces of her corset, starting to unlace them enough to loosen it. "Would you mind? I do not have a maid coming around until later this evening."

She had hired one to help her dress this morning, for she had been conscious of what to wear and see Talorgan again.
 
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For a moment, Talorgan forgot how to breathe again. The sound of her voice - soft, teasing, full of quiet confidence - filled the small room until it seemed to press against his ribs.

He turned slightly as she moved closer, his eyes following the fall of her hair, the shift of light against her shoulders. Every inch of her presence felt deliberate, though it never came across as anything but honest.

"You did test my patientce," he murmured, though there was warmth in it. It was a rough-edged sort of fondness that softened his voice.

When she turned her back to him, his breath caught again. He hesitated, long enough that it almost seemed he wouldn’t
The part of him that eschewed privileged life wanted, at first, to make a joke about needing a maid. The rest of his brain slowly caught up and realised she was keeping him close.

Then, slowly, he stepped closer. The air grew warmer.

His fingers brushed the laces, careful, steady. He worked at them slowly, patient, deliberate, never pulling too sharply.

"You trust me with this?" he asked quietly, voice low near her ear.

The last lace loosened, and his hand lingered just a fraction longer than it needed to before he drew it back.

"There," he said softly, stepping back, though not far. "Free again."
 
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She liked his gentleness, how thoughtful he was in doing the task at hand when he could easily have her out of all clothing in a rush, but for Talorgan to savour the moment had the glassmaker feel more exposed. When he was done, he took a step back and she could feel the coolness of air as his warmth was taken from her.

Faye moved forward after he spoke, half turning so that she could look at him.

"You should turn around now. Some privacy, I beg of you." But her eyes and lips came alive with wickedness. Faye pulled the corset off her, revealing undergarments that did little to hide her modesty, and yet she turned around so that Talorgan could not see. When he himself would turn around, he would face the floor length mirror in which Faye stood proudly reflected. All too aware he would see her, Faye took her time in disrobing.

Every piece of clothing fell to the floor, all the while her back to the mirror.

She reached for a silken gown, wrapping it around herself and arranging her hair before turning around to face Talorgan.


"Ready to choose a room?"
 
For a moment, Talorgan could only look at her.

It wasn’t the shape of her body that held him; it was the way she stood so utterly at ease in her own skin, daring him to keep looking.

He cleared his throat softly, a rough sound that betrayed his nerves.

"Aye… ready."

His gaze slipped away then, following the curve of the hall rather than the line of her shoulders. He moved past her, careful not to brush too close, though the warmth that followed in her wake was near tangible.

Each open door he passed revealed a new glimpse. An untouched room, a little sunlight, the faint of a room that was barely touched.

He stopped at one room halfway down, where the windows faced east. Morning light would come in here, steady and quiet.

"This one," he murmured, running a hand along the frame of the doorway. "Close enough I’ll hear if you need me. Far enough you’ll have space."

When he turned to her again, there was a flicker of something more direct in his eyes.

"Unless you wanted me closer, Faye?"
 
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She trailed after him, allowing Talorgan to go at his own pace and watch as he gave the rooms a proper inspection. Faye had not realised he would take this seriously, that he would put considerations in until he chose a room and made his criteria known. With surprise, her dark brows rose, impressed.

Of course, his eyes told another story. One she could not look away from. All that talk of slowing it down, not rushing into things... Faye began to reason that they already rushed in, why stop when they already begun?

She took two steps forward, lessening the distance they stood. "I think I always do... but you are right in that I like to have my space." Her eyes flicked down, pausing before slowly tracing upwards and appreciating how he looked.

How easily she had forgotten they had gone out that morning, meeting up at the market for harvest, and that they both had put on their best to see each other.


"You look good, Talorgan. Noble finery suits you... as it seems to be tailored to your exact measurements." Her eye always saw the details, and Faye's expression showed she was admiring the craftsmanship. "As I said before, I like you wild also. are you perhaps..." Another step, and another, "feeling that wilderness within you?"

Her eyes lifted to his, her hand hovering over the sash that kept her silk dressing gown secure. An unfair choice of garment to wear, but there was nothing to do about it now other than...


"Come test your bed." She had drawn so close, only to move away and take a seat at the edge of the large bed.