Jon snorts, hearing the beginnings of Gable’s ‘report’. But he listens attentively as he strips off his trousers and steps into the steaming bath. It’s all he can do not to groan loudly as the heat seeps into his tired, sore flesh. There is one sharp exhale that does escape, but he falls utterly silent as the boy starts listing off the difficulties he’s been having with his hand. When he mentions the mage hand spell, he almost snorts again.
“I could try.” He starts out with a sigh, trying to find a way to word his answer that isn’t a clear and absolute denial. Mage hand is not an easy spell, and illusion magic itself is complicated enough that most cantrips take years to master. “It’s a fairly complex spell, but we can start off with working on a few minor illusions, simple images or sensations, see how you do with those and then go from—“
The wizard’s words are abruptly cut off by the screech of the partition being dragged across the floor. It startles him, and Jon halfway jumps out of the tub, sloshing a good amount of water onto the floor in the process. It isn’t that he didn’t expect Gable to do something with his magic, in fact, quite the opposite. He has felt the lad’s arcane self creeping further across the floor with each word he had spoken. He just hadn’t expected whatever Gabe did to be quite so… physical. For the moment, he’s happy that the partition moved only a little, and not just because he’s still buck naked in the tub. More importantly, he’s grateful that it hides the way his expression morphs from surprised to excited to something almost hurt.
So many milestones, so many little things Gabe has been able to figure out on his own while he was gone. It makes his heart sink, makes him feel like the worst teacher imaginable, that his student was only able to find progress in his absence. But then he grits his teeth, forcing a smile to make his tone lighter, and just like that, the headache starts creeping back in.
"I'm proud of you, Gable." He thinks he does a rather good job of hiding just how sad this all has made him feel. "You've come a long way in just a few days, and with an ailing body, too. I'm impressed."
The false smile evaporates a moment later, as he reaches for the soap and a rag to start scrubbing himself clean of the scent of sweat and dirt and town... and Al. Try as he might, Jonathan was unable to keep the vampire from rubbing some of the perfume from the prostitutes he had collected off on him. It makes the entirety of his skin itch just thinking about it, and he scrubs all the more vigorously.
"Surprisingly enough, he did." The wizard pauses briefly to dunk his head under the water and start washing his hair. "In fact I may have even gotten him a job that should keep him out of trouble and allow me to keep a stern eye on him."
He doesn't share all of the details just yet. Who knows if Gable will still be working for him by the time that metaphorical bird gets off the ground? Maybe the boy will outpace his capacity to teach quickly enough that he'll seek mentorship elsewhere, with Eswell or even one of the other archmagi. Ramona has plenty of apprentices, surely one more wouldn't be a burden. And he's sure any number of them would be glad to have such a talented pupil, who learns best in the complete absence of any instruction. Maybe he's just been too close to the boy? Maybe he just needed some space to breathe without being stifled?
The wizard shakes his head, then immediately regrets it as it prompts the worsening of his earlier vision issues.
"I'm going to run downstairs and inform Maddox of my arrival." He says, rising from the water and quickly toweling himself off. The old man runs his fingers through both his hair and beard to work out the tangles before appearing shortly later, dressed in some comfortable sleeping pants and a loose housecoat, both a dark shade of blue. No point in putting a shirt on if he'll go straight to bed after this. "Please, for the love of Eeyr, Gable, lie down before you pitch yourself onto the floor."
“I could try.” He starts out with a sigh, trying to find a way to word his answer that isn’t a clear and absolute denial. Mage hand is not an easy spell, and illusion magic itself is complicated enough that most cantrips take years to master. “It’s a fairly complex spell, but we can start off with working on a few minor illusions, simple images or sensations, see how you do with those and then go from—“
The wizard’s words are abruptly cut off by the screech of the partition being dragged across the floor. It startles him, and Jon halfway jumps out of the tub, sloshing a good amount of water onto the floor in the process. It isn’t that he didn’t expect Gable to do something with his magic, in fact, quite the opposite. He has felt the lad’s arcane self creeping further across the floor with each word he had spoken. He just hadn’t expected whatever Gabe did to be quite so… physical. For the moment, he’s happy that the partition moved only a little, and not just because he’s still buck naked in the tub. More importantly, he’s grateful that it hides the way his expression morphs from surprised to excited to something almost hurt.
So many milestones, so many little things Gabe has been able to figure out on his own while he was gone. It makes his heart sink, makes him feel like the worst teacher imaginable, that his student was only able to find progress in his absence. But then he grits his teeth, forcing a smile to make his tone lighter, and just like that, the headache starts creeping back in.
"I'm proud of you, Gable." He thinks he does a rather good job of hiding just how sad this all has made him feel. "You've come a long way in just a few days, and with an ailing body, too. I'm impressed."
The false smile evaporates a moment later, as he reaches for the soap and a rag to start scrubbing himself clean of the scent of sweat and dirt and town... and Al. Try as he might, Jonathan was unable to keep the vampire from rubbing some of the perfume from the prostitutes he had collected off on him. It makes the entirety of his skin itch just thinking about it, and he scrubs all the more vigorously.
"Surprisingly enough, he did." The wizard pauses briefly to dunk his head under the water and start washing his hair. "In fact I may have even gotten him a job that should keep him out of trouble and allow me to keep a stern eye on him."
He doesn't share all of the details just yet. Who knows if Gable will still be working for him by the time that metaphorical bird gets off the ground? Maybe the boy will outpace his capacity to teach quickly enough that he'll seek mentorship elsewhere, with Eswell or even one of the other archmagi. Ramona has plenty of apprentices, surely one more wouldn't be a burden. And he's sure any number of them would be glad to have such a talented pupil, who learns best in the complete absence of any instruction. Maybe he's just been too close to the boy? Maybe he just needed some space to breathe without being stifled?
The wizard shakes his head, then immediately regrets it as it prompts the worsening of his earlier vision issues.
"I'm going to run downstairs and inform Maddox of my arrival." He says, rising from the water and quickly toweling himself off. The old man runs his fingers through both his hair and beard to work out the tangles before appearing shortly later, dressed in some comfortable sleeping pants and a loose housecoat, both a dark shade of blue. No point in putting a shirt on if he'll go straight to bed after this. "Please, for the love of Eeyr, Gable, lie down before you pitch yourself onto the floor."
Gabe’s sleepy giggling continues as a splash of tub water rolls beneath the partition. Still wearing his happy smile, he watches with interest as the bravest of the pseudo-dragons inch forward to inspect the strange scene, their snakelike necks bobbing and weaving (and noses sniffing) to confirm their master is all right after the commotion.
The oversized boy’s itching ears listen closely to his mentor’s praise. Very closely. The words themselves are everything Gabe has wanted to hear since first feeling close to the man: to make Master Eris proud of him, to be exceptional in his eyes, even in a small way. But… he could almost swear he feels something a little disingenuous in his mentor’s tone. There is a pause. Only a slight pause, admittedly, but Gable had anticipated nothing but his own giddy joy and excitement mirrored back to him. Master Eris does sound pleased. But not quite to the level Gabe had hoped he’d be upon learning of the breakthrough that finally makes him ‘pupil’ material.
Should he have been capable of more by now? Should he have lit a candle or froze a bowl of water instead of something as brutish and inelegant as yanking an item around? After all, he’d already accomplished something similar in front of Master Eris when he caught the book in the library that beautiful afternoon they spent together… Maybe he should have been capable of more from the start.
The disappointment and doubt feel like cold eels squeezing his belly; a hollowness that tries to drain him of the pleasant warmth of pride in his accomplishments. He decides it’s best not to comment at all on the praise in case the sadness trickles through his tone and his mentor takes it as sulking or ingratitude the way Mr. Pinny always did. Next time, he swears he’ll do something more worthy of hearing it.
“A job, sir? I hope you don’t mean here at Black Pine…” Maybe it’s impertinent of him to be so blunt, but it has to be said. As much as he would try to accept his master’s wishes, Gabe is positive he’d be tempted into violence against the pompous leech on at least a monthly basis... Possibly biweekly. Whatever Allerick’s duties might be (he can’t even imagine what use Master Eris sees in him) they need to take place somewhere far, far away from the barn.
“Wait—allow me.”
Gabe hauls to his feet intending to intercept his master and deliver the message to Maddox for him; after all, Master Eris is the one who spent the past few days tolerating Allerick, commissioning a muzzle, and trekking through the bitter cold on his behalf. The old man is the one who ought to stay here and rest. But Gabe’s body disagrees. He stands too quickly, lists too heavily as his knee buckles under him, and twists abruptly just as Master Eris is warning him to lie down. With a monosyllabic exclamation, he lands on his rear again, exactly where he started. Thankfully it’s a soft landing on the bed’s corner, but the fact the wizard witnessed the clumsy dance still bruises his pride.
With a little frown and sad eyes, he sighs and remains where he is. “Would you ask Madds for my cane when you see him, please? And for some help to get me back downstairs.”
The oversized boy’s itching ears listen closely to his mentor’s praise. Very closely. The words themselves are everything Gabe has wanted to hear since first feeling close to the man: to make Master Eris proud of him, to be exceptional in his eyes, even in a small way. But… he could almost swear he feels something a little disingenuous in his mentor’s tone. There is a pause. Only a slight pause, admittedly, but Gable had anticipated nothing but his own giddy joy and excitement mirrored back to him. Master Eris does sound pleased. But not quite to the level Gabe had hoped he’d be upon learning of the breakthrough that finally makes him ‘pupil’ material.
Should he have been capable of more by now? Should he have lit a candle or froze a bowl of water instead of something as brutish and inelegant as yanking an item around? After all, he’d already accomplished something similar in front of Master Eris when he caught the book in the library that beautiful afternoon they spent together… Maybe he should have been capable of more from the start.
The disappointment and doubt feel like cold eels squeezing his belly; a hollowness that tries to drain him of the pleasant warmth of pride in his accomplishments. He decides it’s best not to comment at all on the praise in case the sadness trickles through his tone and his mentor takes it as sulking or ingratitude the way Mr. Pinny always did. Next time, he swears he’ll do something more worthy of hearing it.
“A job, sir? I hope you don’t mean here at Black Pine…” Maybe it’s impertinent of him to be so blunt, but it has to be said. As much as he would try to accept his master’s wishes, Gabe is positive he’d be tempted into violence against the pompous leech on at least a monthly basis... Possibly biweekly. Whatever Allerick’s duties might be (he can’t even imagine what use Master Eris sees in him) they need to take place somewhere far, far away from the barn.
“Wait—allow me.”
Gabe hauls to his feet intending to intercept his master and deliver the message to Maddox for him; after all, Master Eris is the one who spent the past few days tolerating Allerick, commissioning a muzzle, and trekking through the bitter cold on his behalf. The old man is the one who ought to stay here and rest. But Gabe’s body disagrees. He stands too quickly, lists too heavily as his knee buckles under him, and twists abruptly just as Master Eris is warning him to lie down. With a monosyllabic exclamation, he lands on his rear again, exactly where he started. Thankfully it’s a soft landing on the bed’s corner, but the fact the wizard witnessed the clumsy dance still bruises his pride.
With a little frown and sad eyes, he sighs and remains where he is. “Would you ask Madds for my cane when you see him, please? And for some help to get me back downstairs.”
The wizard freezes at Gable’s sudden interjection, and can do nothing but watch from across the room as the boy tries to rise and immediately falls back down to sit on the edge of the bed. Jon has to stop and count his lucky stars that he landed the way he did, instead of ending up on the floor and risking hurting himself even more.
“Gable…” Jonathan’s voice gets very quiet, almost pleading as he speaks, and his hands nearly wring together to match his concerned expression. “Please lie down. I’ll… I’ll talk to Maddox. But I really think you ought to lie down, at least until I get back.”
The way he turns toward the door is hesitant, like he’d rather do anything but leave the room, looking back two or three times before he reaches the door. He’s worried, that much is obvious. Truthfully, the wizard didn’t expect to come back to any great improvements in Gable’s arcane abilities. All he had really hoped for was to see the lad resting and recovering his strength. While it does seem that the stable boy has done a little bit of recovering, he worries that he’s been pushing and not allowing himself to rest when he actually needs it.
The steps leading down from the third floor jar his skull and make everything worse, but Jonathan still responds politely to the relieved greetings he receives from the folks he passes in the hallway as he searches for Maddox, even through the piercing pain. The library is empty, and so is his study. He doesn’t see the redhead through the windows that look out toward the barn. , and all the horses seem to be in their stalls for the evening if the empty turnout pens are anything to go by. When he makes for the kitchen, his steps slow to a creep. He can hear both his chief of staff and head cook deep in some hushed discussion within, and pauses to listen just out of sight.
“… empty when I went to go check on him. His cane was there but I’ve no idea where he’s gone—“
“Easy, Ari. Worry won’t do him any good, I’ll get some of the men together and we can go look for him. He couldn’t have gotten far, poor bloke can barely walk, and all.”
“You children better not be talking about me.” The wizard says as he finally walks into the kitchen, revealing himself to the two adults and Lee, who he hadn’t noticed previously, wedged into a corner and sharing a sweet honey roll with Jasper.
“Jon!” Ari gasps, bringing her hands to her mouth as Maddox lets out a sigh of relief.
“You made it.” The redhead’s weary smile says everything Jon needs to know about how his nephew has taken things. It seems Gable wasn’t the only one who was worried about him.
“I did.” The wizard answers with a smile, his hands clasped behind his back. “And Gable is upstairs in my room, in case you were wondering.”
Both of them nearly collapse over the work table between them, and the relief in the room is suddenly palpable.
“Everyone’s home safe, then…” Maddox’s breathy whisper comes as he reaches for Ari’s hand giving it a firm squeeze, though his eyes are glued to his uncle, and Jon has to wonder if the redhead even realizes what he’s doing. “How did he get there, though? With neither of us to escort him, the wards should have turned him away.”
“I met him on the road. I think he was worried and came out looking for me. But he was struggling to walk, almost seemed disoriented. So I spent a good deal of my reserves and brought us straight to my quarters.” The old man can’t help the wince that follows his report. Speaking is starting to worsen the headache. “He wanted me to ask you to get his cane, and help him back downstairs, but I have half a mind to keep him with me until he can get around without help.”
Both of them nod, solemnly, in agreement.
“What about you though, Jon?” Maddox looks at him with narrowed, suspicious eyes. “You’re looking a touch peaky yourself. And you couldn’t have had an easy journey up here. You probably ought to be upstairs resting too.”
“Just the staff…” comes his grumbled reply. His irate eye-roll is aborted halfway through when his neck locks up, earning a grimace.
“I’ll make some tea.” Ari volunteers, immediately turning to put the kettle on. “And I’ll bring up some supper in a bit too.”
“Just something light, if you please…” The old man sighs, turning half toward the door. “I have neither ate nor slept much these past few days, and rather not make myself sick doing too much of either all at once.”
“Gable…” Jonathan’s voice gets very quiet, almost pleading as he speaks, and his hands nearly wring together to match his concerned expression. “Please lie down. I’ll… I’ll talk to Maddox. But I really think you ought to lie down, at least until I get back.”
The way he turns toward the door is hesitant, like he’d rather do anything but leave the room, looking back two or three times before he reaches the door. He’s worried, that much is obvious. Truthfully, the wizard didn’t expect to come back to any great improvements in Gable’s arcane abilities. All he had really hoped for was to see the lad resting and recovering his strength. While it does seem that the stable boy has done a little bit of recovering, he worries that he’s been pushing and not allowing himself to rest when he actually needs it.
The steps leading down from the third floor jar his skull and make everything worse, but Jonathan still responds politely to the relieved greetings he receives from the folks he passes in the hallway as he searches for Maddox, even through the piercing pain. The library is empty, and so is his study. He doesn’t see the redhead through the windows that look out toward the barn. , and all the horses seem to be in their stalls for the evening if the empty turnout pens are anything to go by. When he makes for the kitchen, his steps slow to a creep. He can hear both his chief of staff and head cook deep in some hushed discussion within, and pauses to listen just out of sight.
“… empty when I went to go check on him. His cane was there but I’ve no idea where he’s gone—“
“Easy, Ari. Worry won’t do him any good, I’ll get some of the men together and we can go look for him. He couldn’t have gotten far, poor bloke can barely walk, and all.”
“You children better not be talking about me.” The wizard says as he finally walks into the kitchen, revealing himself to the two adults and Lee, who he hadn’t noticed previously, wedged into a corner and sharing a sweet honey roll with Jasper.
“Jon!” Ari gasps, bringing her hands to her mouth as Maddox lets out a sigh of relief.
“You made it.” The redhead’s weary smile says everything Jon needs to know about how his nephew has taken things. It seems Gable wasn’t the only one who was worried about him.
“I did.” The wizard answers with a smile, his hands clasped behind his back. “And Gable is upstairs in my room, in case you were wondering.”
Both of them nearly collapse over the work table between them, and the relief in the room is suddenly palpable.
“Everyone’s home safe, then…” Maddox’s breathy whisper comes as he reaches for Ari’s hand giving it a firm squeeze, though his eyes are glued to his uncle, and Jon has to wonder if the redhead even realizes what he’s doing. “How did he get there, though? With neither of us to escort him, the wards should have turned him away.”
“I met him on the road. I think he was worried and came out looking for me. But he was struggling to walk, almost seemed disoriented. So I spent a good deal of my reserves and brought us straight to my quarters.” The old man can’t help the wince that follows his report. Speaking is starting to worsen the headache. “He wanted me to ask you to get his cane, and help him back downstairs, but I have half a mind to keep him with me until he can get around without help.”
Both of them nod, solemnly, in agreement.
“What about you though, Jon?” Maddox looks at him with narrowed, suspicious eyes. “You’re looking a touch peaky yourself. And you couldn’t have had an easy journey up here. You probably ought to be upstairs resting too.”
“Just the staff…” comes his grumbled reply. His irate eye-roll is aborted halfway through when his neck locks up, earning a grimace.
“I’ll make some tea.” Ari volunteers, immediately turning to put the kettle on. “And I’ll bring up some supper in a bit too.”
“Just something light, if you please…” The old man sighs, turning half toward the door. “I have neither ate nor slept much these past few days, and rather not make myself sick doing too much of either all at once.”
“Yes, Cap’n. …I think I’ll do that after all. Thank you.”
Leaning heavily to one side, a bit gray in the face, Gable follows his mentor’s progress toward the door with his gaze and half of a grimace that’s meant to be interpreted as a reassuring smile. When the older man has finally shut the door behind himself, the ‘poke lets out a sigh and curls up (gently, gently) onto his side at the foot of the bed, venting a wheezy groan both during and after his efforts. The softness of the mattress hurts as his bones settle into it.
The bitter grit of the half tablet he just chewed is still marinating in the pockets of his saliva inside his cheeks. He knows it won’t be enough. He’ll have to take another when he’s back in his own bed. Maybe he’ll take two. And maybe, just before he falls asleep, he’ll get in a little practice pushing more books around. …Hopefully by tomorrow, he’ll think of something more impressive than that to show Master Eris. For now, something to take his mind off the pain (and everything else) would be quite welcome.
During his stay in his master’s suite, Gabe has become tremendously familiar with most of the items that populate it, if only from a distance, and by the power of his imagination has taken a few of them on some impressive quests. His eyes wander the room now, searching for a companion to take on his latest adventure through the forests of Vinehaven to the southern sea, but almost immediately his wandering gaze lands on the plain, unremarkable candle that sits innocently on the bedside table.
He can light it. He’s sure he remembers how.
“This part’s for you, and this part’s for me…” Lee explains to Splatters in a patient voice, ripping off a tiny section of the sweet roll and feeding it to the mottled little lizard out of his hand. The boy’s face lights up and he giggles and squirms at the silly, icky, lickedy sensation of the little snout snuffling in the folds of his sticky hand and the forked tongue lapping between his fingers. “Good little baby.”
The grown-ups have been talking ever since the playfellows arrived in the kitchen after their nap, but the boy hasn’t taken much interest in it. The adults seem sad, and he doesn’t like that feeling. That’s why, when the old man arrives, Lee’s is the first, and the loudest, and the happiest greeting. “Peepaw!”
Whatever grievances the boy had held against his grandpa the day he left him behind and headed for town have been obliterated by time and a delightfully short attention span for holding grudges. He’s on his feet and pattering across the floor to the old man’s side in an instant, the remainder of sweet roll forgotten on the floor, loving arms flinging open for embrace.
“Pa’s in the place where little boys aren’t allowed again? Can I come, too? I growed up very big since you been gone.” From his roost in the man’s arms, Lee twists to wave goodbye to his other relatives. “Bye, Auntie Ari! Bye, Auntie Madds!”
Leaning heavily to one side, a bit gray in the face, Gable follows his mentor’s progress toward the door with his gaze and half of a grimace that’s meant to be interpreted as a reassuring smile. When the older man has finally shut the door behind himself, the ‘poke lets out a sigh and curls up (gently, gently) onto his side at the foot of the bed, venting a wheezy groan both during and after his efforts. The softness of the mattress hurts as his bones settle into it.
The bitter grit of the half tablet he just chewed is still marinating in the pockets of his saliva inside his cheeks. He knows it won’t be enough. He’ll have to take another when he’s back in his own bed. Maybe he’ll take two. And maybe, just before he falls asleep, he’ll get in a little practice pushing more books around. …Hopefully by tomorrow, he’ll think of something more impressive than that to show Master Eris. For now, something to take his mind off the pain (and everything else) would be quite welcome.
During his stay in his master’s suite, Gabe has become tremendously familiar with most of the items that populate it, if only from a distance, and by the power of his imagination has taken a few of them on some impressive quests. His eyes wander the room now, searching for a companion to take on his latest adventure through the forests of Vinehaven to the southern sea, but almost immediately his wandering gaze lands on the plain, unremarkable candle that sits innocently on the bedside table.
He can light it. He’s sure he remembers how.
“This part’s for you, and this part’s for me…” Lee explains to Splatters in a patient voice, ripping off a tiny section of the sweet roll and feeding it to the mottled little lizard out of his hand. The boy’s face lights up and he giggles and squirms at the silly, icky, lickedy sensation of the little snout snuffling in the folds of his sticky hand and the forked tongue lapping between his fingers. “Good little baby.”
The grown-ups have been talking ever since the playfellows arrived in the kitchen after their nap, but the boy hasn’t taken much interest in it. The adults seem sad, and he doesn’t like that feeling. That’s why, when the old man arrives, Lee’s is the first, and the loudest, and the happiest greeting. “Peepaw!”
Whatever grievances the boy had held against his grandpa the day he left him behind and headed for town have been obliterated by time and a delightfully short attention span for holding grudges. He’s on his feet and pattering across the floor to the old man’s side in an instant, the remainder of sweet roll forgotten on the floor, loving arms flinging open for embrace.
“Pa’s in the place where little boys aren’t allowed again? Can I come, too? I growed up very big since you been gone.” From his roost in the man’s arms, Lee twists to wave goodbye to his other relatives. “Bye, Auntie Ari! Bye, Auntie Madds!”
Jon can’t help the smile that creeps onto his face when Lee bounds up to him and wraps his arms around his leg. His chuckle, too, is one of relief. For a while he had been worried that Lee might spurn him, after the events with the boy’s uncle lying to him about being able to accompany them into town, and of course the ensuing meltdown. But it seems the toddler has been blessed with a forgiving heart, or perhaps simply a short memory. Either way, the wizard isn’t about to turn his nose up at this boon. Without hesitation, he bends over to lift Lee up and settle him against his chest.
“Yes, you can.” He answers with a grin. “Now that your pa is feeling better, you can come upstairs with us. Just remember not to touch things that you shouldn’t. Remember the ink well? How it made a mess all over the floor? We don’t want that to happen again, do we?”
His gentle warning issued, Jonathan turns briefly back to the other adults in the room, a lopsided grin on his face as he realizes that ‘Auntie Madds’ hasn’t noticed his new title yet. Jasper, the little menace, is intent on coming along, and tries several times to crawl up the wizard’s leg to get to his charge’s perch. On the third attempt, Jon quits trying to dissuade him, and just accepts the fact that those sharp little claws will leave a few red marks on him for the next day or two. Luckily, the creature makes it quick, and in no time at all is settled on the mage’s shoulder.
“You know where to find us.” He sighs, heading out into the hallway and toward the stairs.
Although he would much prefer to bring the tot upstairs through magical means, if only to avoid the terrifying ward at the door, doing so would bring his reserves dangerously low after leaping such a massive distance not more than an hour ago. Gabe has already seen him fall once, and it terrified the poor boy. No need to do it again in front of his son as well. Instead, he does his best to make the journey gentle and quick, rubbing Lee’s back and holding him tight as they approach the door, making sure not to linger in front of its threshold for any longer than is strictly necessary.
Jonathan lets out a relieved sigh, seeing Gable sprawled out on the bed and gently snoring. It almost makes him regret bringing Lee up here for the chaos he’ll probably cause, but it’s better for him to be up here, supervised, than left alone downstairs.
“What do you think, Lee?” The old man whispers conspiratorially into his charge’s ear. “Your pa is asleep right now, shall we play quietly by the hearth for a while? Maybe I can finish making that duck for you? Or shall we crawl in bed with him and surprise him with cuddles and hugs?”
“Yes, you can.” He answers with a grin. “Now that your pa is feeling better, you can come upstairs with us. Just remember not to touch things that you shouldn’t. Remember the ink well? How it made a mess all over the floor? We don’t want that to happen again, do we?”
His gentle warning issued, Jonathan turns briefly back to the other adults in the room, a lopsided grin on his face as he realizes that ‘Auntie Madds’ hasn’t noticed his new title yet. Jasper, the little menace, is intent on coming along, and tries several times to crawl up the wizard’s leg to get to his charge’s perch. On the third attempt, Jon quits trying to dissuade him, and just accepts the fact that those sharp little claws will leave a few red marks on him for the next day or two. Luckily, the creature makes it quick, and in no time at all is settled on the mage’s shoulder.
“You know where to find us.” He sighs, heading out into the hallway and toward the stairs.
Although he would much prefer to bring the tot upstairs through magical means, if only to avoid the terrifying ward at the door, doing so would bring his reserves dangerously low after leaping such a massive distance not more than an hour ago. Gabe has already seen him fall once, and it terrified the poor boy. No need to do it again in front of his son as well. Instead, he does his best to make the journey gentle and quick, rubbing Lee’s back and holding him tight as they approach the door, making sure not to linger in front of its threshold for any longer than is strictly necessary.
Jonathan lets out a relieved sigh, seeing Gable sprawled out on the bed and gently snoring. It almost makes him regret bringing Lee up here for the chaos he’ll probably cause, but it’s better for him to be up here, supervised, than left alone downstairs.
“What do you think, Lee?” The old man whispers conspiratorially into his charge’s ear. “Your pa is asleep right now, shall we play quietly by the hearth for a while? Maybe I can finish making that duck for you? Or shall we crawl in bed with him and surprise him with cuddles and hugs?”
Lee nods obediently to his peepaw’s gentle warning, though in truth he might want to see ink spilled all over the floor again someday… but only as a means to develop his handicraft skills. And now that he knows the old man won’t yell, stomp, or hit him when he makes a big mess, big messes are a tad more tempting to make. He has hardly ever had the chance to get good and dirty, after all, and he thinks it would suit him quite well.
Splatters’ frantic antics to join him in his lofty perch light up the boy’s face in a way very few things ever could when he first arrived at the castle as a saddlebag stowaway. There’s no denying the little critter has coaxed him out of his shell of distrust and taught him something about friendship. Angry moods, sad moods, in-between-and-confused moods, the brown and blue nanny has seen it all and never bit him or hissed. Not unless it was to keep the boy out of danger.
Lee spends most of the ride up the steps emphasizing the little lizard’s merits to his adopted grandfather while at the same time reaching behind the old man’s neck to pet Jasper along the ridge where his feathers lead into his wings.
“Did you know that Splatters is a good spider-catcher, Peepaw? He catched the one that was goin’ to eat me in my bed, then he eated it. He eats lots and lots of things, and sometimes he shares, like when he gived me a dead mouse! I said ‘mm, mm! that’s so tasty, what a good boy!’ and hided it behind my back so his feelings wasn’t hurt, ‘cause I didn’t really ate it, but I could have in my fur. And he can fly loop-de-loops, too. He’s a hugely smart dragon.”
Lee hugs close to Peepaw’s neck when they pass over the icky third-floor threshold. A moment later, he rolls his eyes as they come up to Pa sound asleep. Again. Although Lee isn’t very much in the mood for getting back in bed if it means napping again (even if he is a bit tired still) Peepaw hasn’t been around to hold him for days. His reply comes quietly, with a sheepish smile: “Cuddles and hugs.”
-
Time feels different when the vampire stirs. And he feels different, too.
Allerick’s heavy eyelids drift open to see shadows dancing on the wall, brought to life by warm and flickering firelight. No more watery sunshine through the window. No more faint birdsong. The smells in the air have also changed; the scent of fried eggs and toast has been replaced by ale and beef and potatoes. The relative tranquility of the snowed-in tavern has been punctured by the arrival of new guests and patrons at the bar below. His eyes fall shut again. His consciousness ebbs into another, lighter sleep. But not for long.
A little at a time, the young vamp becomes aware of his own body. The pressure of his hip pressing into the mattress, the weight of his cheek against the pillow, the lay of his hair across his forehead. Then the warmth.
He hasn’t opened his eyes yet this time and he doesn’t plan to right away. Someone toasty is pressed against him, entwined with him, but he doesn’t recognize their scent or shape or touch. His heart rate has picked up. His head hurts a little, like a bruise, or an overworked muscle…
Certain childhood memories, fears, and aspirations—usually so carefully guarded and suppressed—feel close and fresh. He struggles to remember the dreams that must have woken them. Strange. He has never struggled to remember his dreams or anyone else’s. His lips part and he draws in a slow, cautious sip of air.
Something metallic.
Something vaguely like machine oil.
Women’s skin cream. The expensive kind.
Allerick’s hand stumbles upon the arm encircled around his waist. He drags his fingers heavily to the end of that limb, where he finds the prosthetic finger he did not expect to occupy the same set of bedsheets as himself. His brows lift. He opens his eyes, just a little, a bit afraid to wake up fully. “...Padrona?”
Splatters’ frantic antics to join him in his lofty perch light up the boy’s face in a way very few things ever could when he first arrived at the castle as a saddlebag stowaway. There’s no denying the little critter has coaxed him out of his shell of distrust and taught him something about friendship. Angry moods, sad moods, in-between-and-confused moods, the brown and blue nanny has seen it all and never bit him or hissed. Not unless it was to keep the boy out of danger.
Lee spends most of the ride up the steps emphasizing the little lizard’s merits to his adopted grandfather while at the same time reaching behind the old man’s neck to pet Jasper along the ridge where his feathers lead into his wings.
“Did you know that Splatters is a good spider-catcher, Peepaw? He catched the one that was goin’ to eat me in my bed, then he eated it. He eats lots and lots of things, and sometimes he shares, like when he gived me a dead mouse! I said ‘mm, mm! that’s so tasty, what a good boy!’ and hided it behind my back so his feelings wasn’t hurt, ‘cause I didn’t really ate it, but I could have in my fur. And he can fly loop-de-loops, too. He’s a hugely smart dragon.”
Lee hugs close to Peepaw’s neck when they pass over the icky third-floor threshold. A moment later, he rolls his eyes as they come up to Pa sound asleep. Again. Although Lee isn’t very much in the mood for getting back in bed if it means napping again (even if he is a bit tired still) Peepaw hasn’t been around to hold him for days. His reply comes quietly, with a sheepish smile: “Cuddles and hugs.”
-
Time feels different when the vampire stirs. And he feels different, too.
Allerick’s heavy eyelids drift open to see shadows dancing on the wall, brought to life by warm and flickering firelight. No more watery sunshine through the window. No more faint birdsong. The smells in the air have also changed; the scent of fried eggs and toast has been replaced by ale and beef and potatoes. The relative tranquility of the snowed-in tavern has been punctured by the arrival of new guests and patrons at the bar below. His eyes fall shut again. His consciousness ebbs into another, lighter sleep. But not for long.
A little at a time, the young vamp becomes aware of his own body. The pressure of his hip pressing into the mattress, the weight of his cheek against the pillow, the lay of his hair across his forehead. Then the warmth.
He hasn’t opened his eyes yet this time and he doesn’t plan to right away. Someone toasty is pressed against him, entwined with him, but he doesn’t recognize their scent or shape or touch. His heart rate has picked up. His head hurts a little, like a bruise, or an overworked muscle…
Certain childhood memories, fears, and aspirations—usually so carefully guarded and suppressed—feel close and fresh. He struggles to remember the dreams that must have woken them. Strange. He has never struggled to remember his dreams or anyone else’s. His lips part and he draws in a slow, cautious sip of air.
Something metallic.
Something vaguely like machine oil.
Women’s skin cream. The expensive kind.
Allerick’s hand stumbles upon the arm encircled around his waist. He drags his fingers heavily to the end of that limb, where he finds the prosthetic finger he did not expect to occupy the same set of bedsheets as himself. His brows lift. He opens his eyes, just a little, a bit afraid to wake up fully. “...Padrona?”
Jon can't help but chuckle, watching Lee's reaction to seeing his father asleep, even if the boy's chatter up the stairs has progressively worsened his headache. He imagines the young man has done a lot of that in the past few days, and the toddler is probably quite tired of having his parental playmate out of commission, but it's the best thing for him right now.
"Alright, remember we should be quiet, though. Your pa needs his sleep right now." This he whispers as he pads quietly across the floor to the side of the bed that Gable is not presently occupying. He throws back the heavy quilt and sets Lee down for a moment while he sheds his housecoat, then slides the toddler toward the middle of the bed and lays down right beside him. The soft and homey feeling of his own bed as he draws the blankets back up over the two of them is almost blissful enough to send him to sleep right away, but he fights the urge for Lee's sake. Seeing how irate he had been to see his father asleep, he figures he should at least try to give the child some attention before drifting off himself.
"C'mere you little rascal." The old man whispers with a smile and open arms ready for the toddler to glue himself to his body for as long as the boy needs.
-
Despite what one might think, Ramona has not been idle for the entire afternoon. Even if she may have stayed in bed with Allerick a little longer than strictly necessary, there were some very important errands she needed to complete while he slept, not the least of which has resulted in the capped and sealed glass syringe full of dark, red blood that sits on the bedside table beside her. While not necessarily as fresh as he might be used to, the vessel is enchanted to keep its contents fresh enough. Warm. Unspoiled. It won't even clot as long as the glass remains sealed. But more importantly, with it sealed, he won’t be able to smell it, and risk rousing earlier than he should.
With any luck, perhaps he'll let her hand-feed him. If not, there is a clean and empty wineglass beside it, ready to hold the contents of his supper the minute he decides to eat. Luckily the owner's son is quite used to being on the receiving end of her odd requests, and was willing to part with a bit of his blood in exchange for a few silvers. Pocket change, really.
Perhaps by the work of some small miracle, his jacket has also come to be repaired. It took no small amount of searching to find those precious buttons, and one ended up dangerously close to the fire, but a quick spell of mending put the thing back in decent repair again. She even went through and tightened down the buttons that weren't damaged by his little outburst. In fact, it might even be in better shape than it was when they met that morning.
But after all that, she does, inevitably, crawl straight back in bed with him.
The first time he stirs, she's there to gently shush him back to sleep, with a squeeze of the hand and a loving kiss at the corner of his slack mouth. "Shh... not yet, love. Back to sleep now, that's it. You still have a while to go."
When he wakes for the second time, he seems a bit more present, taking in the world with small chunks, a sniff here, a sip there, as he pieces together this place he's returned to. She doesn't urge him back to slumber this time, but waits patiently for him to discover her presence on his own. The process makes her immeasurably happy to watch.
She lets out a warm giggle when his hand finds hers, and she gently entwines her fingers with his own.
“Yes, darling. It’s me. Did you sleep well? I’ve have some supper for you if you’re hungry."
"Alright, remember we should be quiet, though. Your pa needs his sleep right now." This he whispers as he pads quietly across the floor to the side of the bed that Gable is not presently occupying. He throws back the heavy quilt and sets Lee down for a moment while he sheds his housecoat, then slides the toddler toward the middle of the bed and lays down right beside him. The soft and homey feeling of his own bed as he draws the blankets back up over the two of them is almost blissful enough to send him to sleep right away, but he fights the urge for Lee's sake. Seeing how irate he had been to see his father asleep, he figures he should at least try to give the child some attention before drifting off himself.
"C'mere you little rascal." The old man whispers with a smile and open arms ready for the toddler to glue himself to his body for as long as the boy needs.
-
Despite what one might think, Ramona has not been idle for the entire afternoon. Even if she may have stayed in bed with Allerick a little longer than strictly necessary, there were some very important errands she needed to complete while he slept, not the least of which has resulted in the capped and sealed glass syringe full of dark, red blood that sits on the bedside table beside her. While not necessarily as fresh as he might be used to, the vessel is enchanted to keep its contents fresh enough. Warm. Unspoiled. It won't even clot as long as the glass remains sealed. But more importantly, with it sealed, he won’t be able to smell it, and risk rousing earlier than he should.
With any luck, perhaps he'll let her hand-feed him. If not, there is a clean and empty wineglass beside it, ready to hold the contents of his supper the minute he decides to eat. Luckily the owner's son is quite used to being on the receiving end of her odd requests, and was willing to part with a bit of his blood in exchange for a few silvers. Pocket change, really.
Perhaps by the work of some small miracle, his jacket has also come to be repaired. It took no small amount of searching to find those precious buttons, and one ended up dangerously close to the fire, but a quick spell of mending put the thing back in decent repair again. She even went through and tightened down the buttons that weren't damaged by his little outburst. In fact, it might even be in better shape than it was when they met that morning.
But after all that, she does, inevitably, crawl straight back in bed with him.
The first time he stirs, she's there to gently shush him back to sleep, with a squeeze of the hand and a loving kiss at the corner of his slack mouth. "Shh... not yet, love. Back to sleep now, that's it. You still have a while to go."
When he wakes for the second time, he seems a bit more present, taking in the world with small chunks, a sniff here, a sip there, as he pieces together this place he's returned to. She doesn't urge him back to slumber this time, but waits patiently for him to discover her presence on his own. The process makes her immeasurably happy to watch.
She lets out a warm giggle when his hand finds hers, and she gently entwines her fingers with his own.
“Yes, darling. It’s me. Did you sleep well? I’ve have some supper for you if you’re hungry."
When first placed onto the bed, Lee stares adamantly at his father’s reposed form, as though by boring him with his vision he might burn the slumbering man awake. But alas, he has no such powers.
With a little huff, he looks back over at what Peepaw is doing.
Seeing that his grandpa enters the bed shirtless, Lee eagerly wiggles his way out of the top half of his all-brown outfit in order to be bare-chested, too. Grinning like the sun accepting an invitation to shine, he slides up close to the old man and presses, presses, presses close until the big chest warms his little chest the way Pa’s always did when the nights were cold on their journey to the castle. His quick young heart patters within him like the wings of a bird beating against a cage. He listens with one ear to the larger, slower, lub-dub. lub-dub. lub-dub.
Little fingers trace whatever moles, marks, or scars they find on Peepaw’s shoulder with intense curiosity, but no spoken questions. It doesn’t take very long for his breathing to slow into a peaceful rhythm. Eventually his wandering fingers follow suit. He tucks them in against his own chest, pocketed in the safety and warmth of his protector’s embrace.
Murmured in the small voice of someone who has suffered greatly in the past, he pleads, “Don’t never leave again, Peepaw.”
-
Deception. It’s the first word that rings out in Allerick’s conscious thought, clear as the tinkling of broken glass.
Welcoming, pleasant, encouraging, indulgent, she had trapped him with an embrace like warm, suffocating mud. Turned his own vision against him, twisted it into a prison cell that neither he nor the boy in the memory could escape easily. Does that say something about his own limitations, his own blindspots, or the depth of this unusual archmage’s power?
The giggle. The way her hand is twined with his own. ‘Darling,’ purred so softly in his ear...
“That was cruel of me.” That’s what she said immediately after he screamed out, wasn’t it? Sweet apologies dripped from her lips, her face wore concern and regret in equal measures, and then she… wine. He remembers the wine. The kiss. Her hands on his shoulders, on his body. With a little internal jolt, it dawns on the vampire that he is, in a way, looking at himself from the other side of the mirror: he is the object of her desire, and she has pursued and trapped him the way she chases all that she seeks to possess: with her claws. It is a language he understands.
Perhaps she really did not mean to draw blood when she held him too tightly, and perhaps his panic excited her the way a lamb’s panicked bleats boil his own blood. He does not hate the lamb for its weaknesses, but loves it all the more intensely because of them.
This woman understands. She understands.
Allerick turns his face just enough to catch the outline of Lady Arathel’s profile in his peripheral. Her closeness prevents him from seeing her fully. Very slowly, he smiles, his uneasy expression dissolving into something doting and starstruck. His words drift out in the low, heavy, crackling voice of one who has just climbed out of a deep sleep. “Woman, you are… magnifica.”
Without answering her questions, he rolls onto his back and draws her face to his own to continue what he believes they already started.
Each time she traps him, each time she invades his mind, he will observe. He will learn. And he will not allow his own hubris to underestimate this beautiful, dangerous creature again.
With a little huff, he looks back over at what Peepaw is doing.
Seeing that his grandpa enters the bed shirtless, Lee eagerly wiggles his way out of the top half of his all-brown outfit in order to be bare-chested, too. Grinning like the sun accepting an invitation to shine, he slides up close to the old man and presses, presses, presses close until the big chest warms his little chest the way Pa’s always did when the nights were cold on their journey to the castle. His quick young heart patters within him like the wings of a bird beating against a cage. He listens with one ear to the larger, slower, lub-dub. lub-dub. lub-dub.
Little fingers trace whatever moles, marks, or scars they find on Peepaw’s shoulder with intense curiosity, but no spoken questions. It doesn’t take very long for his breathing to slow into a peaceful rhythm. Eventually his wandering fingers follow suit. He tucks them in against his own chest, pocketed in the safety and warmth of his protector’s embrace.
Murmured in the small voice of someone who has suffered greatly in the past, he pleads, “Don’t never leave again, Peepaw.”
-
Deception. It’s the first word that rings out in Allerick’s conscious thought, clear as the tinkling of broken glass.
Welcoming, pleasant, encouraging, indulgent, she had trapped him with an embrace like warm, suffocating mud. Turned his own vision against him, twisted it into a prison cell that neither he nor the boy in the memory could escape easily. Does that say something about his own limitations, his own blindspots, or the depth of this unusual archmage’s power?
The giggle. The way her hand is twined with his own. ‘Darling,’ purred so softly in his ear...
“That was cruel of me.” That’s what she said immediately after he screamed out, wasn’t it? Sweet apologies dripped from her lips, her face wore concern and regret in equal measures, and then she… wine. He remembers the wine. The kiss. Her hands on his shoulders, on his body. With a little internal jolt, it dawns on the vampire that he is, in a way, looking at himself from the other side of the mirror: he is the object of her desire, and she has pursued and trapped him the way she chases all that she seeks to possess: with her claws. It is a language he understands.
Perhaps she really did not mean to draw blood when she held him too tightly, and perhaps his panic excited her the way a lamb’s panicked bleats boil his own blood. He does not hate the lamb for its weaknesses, but loves it all the more intensely because of them.
This woman understands. She understands.
Allerick turns his face just enough to catch the outline of Lady Arathel’s profile in his peripheral. Her closeness prevents him from seeing her fully. Very slowly, he smiles, his uneasy expression dissolving into something doting and starstruck. His words drift out in the low, heavy, crackling voice of one who has just climbed out of a deep sleep. “Woman, you are… magnifica.”
Without answering her questions, he rolls onto his back and draws her face to his own to continue what he believes they already started.
Each time she traps him, each time she invades his mind, he will observe. He will learn. And he will not allow his own hubris to underestimate this beautiful, dangerous creature again.
The old man chuckles at the enthusiasm with which Lee discards his shirt, gathering up the garment and hiding it under his pillow for now, so that it doesn’t get lost in the various other pillows and blankets of the wizard’s nest, and wraps his arms tightly around his charge. It’s almost disconcerting how easily he can feel everything about the toddler when they lay skin-to-skin like this, with nothing between their two beating hearts but skin and bone and breath. But at the same time… it’s comforting, in a way.
He watches attentively while the child traces the many blemishes covering the skin of his shoulder, rubbing his tiny back with a wide, sword-calloused palm. It doesn’t take long for Lee to drop off, curling even tighter against his chest as he utters a final plea before sleep takes him.
Much as he would love to make the kind of promise Lee is after, he knows he can’t. There are too many things that could, and eventually will, pull him away. He can't bring himself to utter the words he know will turn out to be a lie eventually. So instead, he places a gentle kiss at the top of Lee’s head, and tucks those brown curls beneath his chin.
He follows the boy into sleep shortly after, hoping that he’ll be in less pain when he wakes.
-
Ramona feels the vampire tense not a moment after she speaks. She doesn't think he's quite awake enough to try and run, or at least not awake enough that doing so would be any kind of successful. But she can feel his unease in his body language, even if his mind wasn't still as open to her as a book on a lectern. That might be something she has to keep an eye on, maybe have a needle on hand with more of the same concoction in case he does try to run. Because even if he does, Allerick is still vastly more cooperative than the last vampire she had to play with, and she is loathe to let such a specimen escape her grasp. Ah well, different histories, different traumas.
This vampire's traumas certainly have potential uses, unlike the last one's.
Memory returns to the lad in trickles, and the archmage has the pleasure of documenting each realization as it occurs. The bewilderment she senses from him is sweet as honey to her, though she tries not to let it show just how much his confusion amuses her. For now, she still wears the mask of the comforting lover here to care for and dote on him, squeezing his hand and offering light kisses to his neck and jaw.
It's a bit like watching a coyote that's been caught in a snare, the way the realization of its situation seems to come over it in pieces, and even its base, animal intelligence understands the hopelessness of its circumstance.
But that expression doesn't remain, and as the vampire turns to look at her, finally, it morphs into something dreamy and almost vapid.
"I know." She purrs darkly as she lets herself be guided to his mouth. Some of her concerns melt away as they touch each other, bringing soft sighs and hitched breaths one from the other. If he's willing to be physical with her, chances are he isn't planning to bolt. At least, she wagers he's not planning to do so any time soon. Either way, she'll make the most of him, mind, body, and soul, while she has him in her web.
He watches attentively while the child traces the many blemishes covering the skin of his shoulder, rubbing his tiny back with a wide, sword-calloused palm. It doesn’t take long for Lee to drop off, curling even tighter against his chest as he utters a final plea before sleep takes him.
Much as he would love to make the kind of promise Lee is after, he knows he can’t. There are too many things that could, and eventually will, pull him away. He can't bring himself to utter the words he know will turn out to be a lie eventually. So instead, he places a gentle kiss at the top of Lee’s head, and tucks those brown curls beneath his chin.
He follows the boy into sleep shortly after, hoping that he’ll be in less pain when he wakes.
-
Ramona feels the vampire tense not a moment after she speaks. She doesn't think he's quite awake enough to try and run, or at least not awake enough that doing so would be any kind of successful. But she can feel his unease in his body language, even if his mind wasn't still as open to her as a book on a lectern. That might be something she has to keep an eye on, maybe have a needle on hand with more of the same concoction in case he does try to run. Because even if he does, Allerick is still vastly more cooperative than the last vampire she had to play with, and she is loathe to let such a specimen escape her grasp. Ah well, different histories, different traumas.
This vampire's traumas certainly have potential uses, unlike the last one's.
Memory returns to the lad in trickles, and the archmage has the pleasure of documenting each realization as it occurs. The bewilderment she senses from him is sweet as honey to her, though she tries not to let it show just how much his confusion amuses her. For now, she still wears the mask of the comforting lover here to care for and dote on him, squeezing his hand and offering light kisses to his neck and jaw.
It's a bit like watching a coyote that's been caught in a snare, the way the realization of its situation seems to come over it in pieces, and even its base, animal intelligence understands the hopelessness of its circumstance.
But that expression doesn't remain, and as the vampire turns to look at her, finally, it morphs into something dreamy and almost vapid.
"I know." She purrs darkly as she lets herself be guided to his mouth. Some of her concerns melt away as they touch each other, bringing soft sighs and hitched breaths one from the other. If he's willing to be physical with her, chances are he isn't planning to bolt. At least, she wagers he's not planning to do so any time soon. Either way, she'll make the most of him, mind, body, and soul, while she has him in her web.
Allerick chuckles against the woman’s mouth when she agrees with his declaration of her magnificence. Her confidence and charisma are a far cry from his usual taste in conquests, but at least it assures him this evening won’t end in tears, nor will the new morning bring regrets and lengthy speeches. It also means he doesn’t feel he has to romanticize the encounter; the old girl expects no poems, no sweet nothings, no requests for permission at every stage of advancement… She clearly has a voice and is not afraid to coach or correct him with it.
And that correction does arrive, eventually, when his teeth engage with far too much enthusiasm in the soft curve of her neck. All it takes is a sharp word or a swat to his head and he moves on from that spot like a reprimanded whelp, quickly distracting himself again with overeager kisses.
“But I thought you said you have supper for me, Padrona?” The words are murmured against her jaw in a flirtatious tone that only barely covers his childishly sulky disappointment.
And that correction does arrive, eventually, when his teeth engage with far too much enthusiasm in the soft curve of her neck. All it takes is a sharp word or a swat to his head and he moves on from that spot like a reprimanded whelp, quickly distracting himself again with overeager kisses.
“But I thought you said you have supper for me, Padrona?” The words are murmured against her jaw in a flirtatious tone that only barely covers his childishly sulky disappointment.
Ramona knows how Allerick reacts to positive reinforcement, especially that which strokes his ego, or his apparently fragile sense of self-worth. This she has learned from their short time together, and her time in his head, well enough. As such, she doesn’t hesitate to dole out the praise as he ravishes her mouth, her jaw, her neck, and beyond. A symphony of Good lad, Yes, there, and satisfied moans falls from her lips. He isn’t gentle, necessarily, but his insistence doesn’t bother her. In fact, she’s happy to embrace it. It’s a far cry from what she usually gets from Jon, and she’s happy for the change of pace.
But when she feels his teeth nipping at her throat, she puts an end to his heinous worship with a swift swat to the side of his head and an angry hiss.
It doesn’t discourage him for long, though when his mouth returns there are no teeth this time.
“I do, but if you’ve been sucking on Jonathan, then we both know you’ll get hardly any nutrition from me.” Her voice lacks the flirtatious tone that her partner’s still holds, but her hands, as they wander over his body, communicate that she is still very much interested. But there are boundaries to be set before their game can continue. “I’ve taken the liberty of procuring a meal for you from the son of the owner. He is young and healthy, should be quite the robust supper. If you need to eat, we can redirect for a moment…?”
But when she feels his teeth nipping at her throat, she puts an end to his heinous worship with a swift swat to the side of his head and an angry hiss.
It doesn’t discourage him for long, though when his mouth returns there are no teeth this time.
“I do, but if you’ve been sucking on Jonathan, then we both know you’ll get hardly any nutrition from me.” Her voice lacks the flirtatious tone that her partner’s still holds, but her hands, as they wander over his body, communicate that she is still very much interested. But there are boundaries to be set before their game can continue. “I’ve taken the liberty of procuring a meal for you from the son of the owner. He is young and healthy, should be quite the robust supper. If you need to eat, we can redirect for a moment…?”
Just like any encounter with a wild, hissing animal might do (that giant white opossum who charged out of the grapevines when he was a child springs to mind, larger than life) the archmage’s reaction shoots a chill up Allerick’s spine. It makes him want to giggle, or flee, or roll off the bed and hide. Maybe all of the above. In a low-level panic, he’s quick to soothe her with more robust attention—perhaps to a comical degree of enthusiasm.
“Mm, he sounds delizioso. But nothing could tempt me away from you now, la mia padrona…” Young and wide-eyed, Al smiles at her hopefully. Did he say what she wanted to hear? Will she hit him again if he forgets himself? He advances in his work, albeit a bit hesitantly.
“Mm, he sounds delizioso. But nothing could tempt me away from you now, la mia padrona…” Young and wide-eyed, Al smiles at her hopefully. Did he say what she wanted to hear? Will she hit him again if he forgets himself? He advances in his work, albeit a bit hesitantly.
The elder archmage almost snickers, seeing the way Allerick apologizes through his actions, returning to his previous quest of worshipping every inch of her skin within reach. She manages to contain her amusement into a smirk instead, though just barely. As exciting as bedding a vampire in bloodlust sounds, best not to overwhelm the poor boy on his first day. His experience with the dream was bad enough.
"Of course not, Allerick, dear..." She purrs conspiratorially as she plants a line of kisses along his jaw and up toward his ear, where she whispers her words in a tone dripping with the promise of good things to come. "But you will tell me if you need to feed, or I will leave you unsatisfied until your belly is full and we can continue without the threat of you losing yourself to instinct. I'm rather enjoying this game, and it'd be a shame if we had to stop playing later on when we're... deep into things. Besides, there's nothing that says supper can't be fun too."
She drags the last syllable out just as she reaches out to nibble his earlobe, teeth digging in perhaps a bit harder than she would with another lover, but most vampires are like this, she's found. They tend to like playing with their mouths.
"Of course not, Allerick, dear..." She purrs conspiratorially as she plants a line of kisses along his jaw and up toward his ear, where she whispers her words in a tone dripping with the promise of good things to come. "But you will tell me if you need to feed, or I will leave you unsatisfied until your belly is full and we can continue without the threat of you losing yourself to instinct. I'm rather enjoying this game, and it'd be a shame if we had to stop playing later on when we're... deep into things. Besides, there's nothing that says supper can't be fun too."
She drags the last syllable out just as she reaches out to nibble his earlobe, teeth digging in perhaps a bit harder than she would with another lover, but most vampires are like this, she's found. They tend to like playing with their mouths.
Allerick’s head tips and his eyes narrow, ever so slightly, while he decides whether or not he should stand for the mothering coming out of this woman’s lips right now. He’s never heard anything like it before. Not even from his own mother.
But, admittedly, there’s very little he can do about it at the moment if any of his hungers will be satiated tonight. At least in this bedroom. He makes a fairly quick decision to remember the oath he made to himself not ten minutes ago: he will not let his pride ruin things for him. The very nature of this reprimand is an insult to the months devoted to tempering his willpower, but… he can and he will have all he’s ever wanted at his fingertips before long, and it will extend so very far beyond the fleeting sting of this moment’s humiliation. He draws up a smirk, a wink, and bows his head slightly in respect.
“Sì, amante,” he replies to the part about losing himself to instinct. The latter half of her threat draws out another throaty chuckle from him, but it’s cut off sharply by an astonished gasp.
“Mi hai morso?” He jerks away, face slack, then pinched, with disbelief and anger. But it isn’t really anger. Just… severe confusion, and this strange and uncomfortable feeling that he can no longer predict anything about how the rest of the night will go.
After navigating the strange and tumultuous seas of bedding Shelcana’s most powerful mage, Al inquires about the location of his clothing and slips out of bed to pull on his undergarb. He’b be perfectly content to roam the room like a Roman god under normal circumstances, of course, but the creeping feeling that he’s a bit more exposed than he’d like to be has yet to leave him. When he moves his shirt aside from the top of the pile, his pale gaze catches on those ebony buttons, looking as shiny and pristine as the day they were given to him. His lips part but he says nothing, questioning for a moment whether he had only dreamed about ripping them off in his panic. No, no, he’s sure that part really happened… But he’s hesitant for the moment to acknowledge the intimate little gesture the woman performed by sewing them back on. It would only put him in her debt in some way.
Eventually he turns away from the pile with his hands on his waist and scans the room for the pitcher of drinking water, but his eyes land on the vial and its deep red contents. Another debt.
“Thank you, Padrona, but I do prefer my supper warm. I believe I will procure this for myself and bid you goodnight for now.” He smiles back at her, but proceeds to pull on his pants and the rest of his clothing fairly quickly.
But, admittedly, there’s very little he can do about it at the moment if any of his hungers will be satiated tonight. At least in this bedroom. He makes a fairly quick decision to remember the oath he made to himself not ten minutes ago: he will not let his pride ruin things for him. The very nature of this reprimand is an insult to the months devoted to tempering his willpower, but… he can and he will have all he’s ever wanted at his fingertips before long, and it will extend so very far beyond the fleeting sting of this moment’s humiliation. He draws up a smirk, a wink, and bows his head slightly in respect.
“Sì, amante,” he replies to the part about losing himself to instinct. The latter half of her threat draws out another throaty chuckle from him, but it’s cut off sharply by an astonished gasp.
“Mi hai morso?” He jerks away, face slack, then pinched, with disbelief and anger. But it isn’t really anger. Just… severe confusion, and this strange and uncomfortable feeling that he can no longer predict anything about how the rest of the night will go.
After navigating the strange and tumultuous seas of bedding Shelcana’s most powerful mage, Al inquires about the location of his clothing and slips out of bed to pull on his undergarb. He’b be perfectly content to roam the room like a Roman god under normal circumstances, of course, but the creeping feeling that he’s a bit more exposed than he’d like to be has yet to leave him. When he moves his shirt aside from the top of the pile, his pale gaze catches on those ebony buttons, looking as shiny and pristine as the day they were given to him. His lips part but he says nothing, questioning for a moment whether he had only dreamed about ripping them off in his panic. No, no, he’s sure that part really happened… But he’s hesitant for the moment to acknowledge the intimate little gesture the woman performed by sewing them back on. It would only put him in her debt in some way.
Eventually he turns away from the pile with his hands on his waist and scans the room for the pitcher of drinking water, but his eyes land on the vial and its deep red contents. Another debt.
“Thank you, Padrona, but I do prefer my supper warm. I believe I will procure this for myself and bid you goodnight for now.” He smiles back at her, but proceeds to pull on his pants and the rest of his clothing fairly quickly.
"It's over there, darling, on the chair by the hearth." She can't say she's not disappointed in how anxious Allerick seems to be to get back in his clothing, but she hides it well. While she had hoped he might lay with her a while after their tryst, she understands that this is probably a bit overwhelming for him. Based on his reaction to her little love nibble, it's clear he's been sleeping with girls his whole life, as opposed to women.
Ramona frowns, catching his somewhat dismissive expression as his eyes land on her gift of nourishment. It's bad enough that he's in a hurry to leave her, but to turn his nose up at her offered meal without even giving it a taste first? Now that's just wasteful.
"Oh come now, Allerick." She sighs heavily as she tosses the blankets back and crawls out of the bed, grabbing the vial of blood as she crosses the rug to stand beside the young vampire, uncaring that her nightdress hangs off of her petite frame in a highly suggestive manner. "What kind of mage do you take me for? Did you really think I would overlook such a detail? You're not the first vampire I've taken to bed, and certainly not the first I've had to find a meal for."
The elder archmage takes ahold of his wrist and puts the syringe in his hand, closing his fingers around it so that he can feel the heat it gives off. The liquid within is warm and thin, the same as it was when it came out of the lad hours ago. Theoretically there should be no difference between this and feeding naturally, except for the need to expend energy seducing and sedating a meal for himself. A perfect alternative to that pesky chore, as her past charges have stated.
"At least give it a taste before you turn it down."
Ramona frowns, catching his somewhat dismissive expression as his eyes land on her gift of nourishment. It's bad enough that he's in a hurry to leave her, but to turn his nose up at her offered meal without even giving it a taste first? Now that's just wasteful.
"Oh come now, Allerick." She sighs heavily as she tosses the blankets back and crawls out of the bed, grabbing the vial of blood as she crosses the rug to stand beside the young vampire, uncaring that her nightdress hangs off of her petite frame in a highly suggestive manner. "What kind of mage do you take me for? Did you really think I would overlook such a detail? You're not the first vampire I've taken to bed, and certainly not the first I've had to find a meal for."
The elder archmage takes ahold of his wrist and puts the syringe in his hand, closing his fingers around it so that he can feel the heat it gives off. The liquid within is warm and thin, the same as it was when it came out of the lad hours ago. Theoretically there should be no difference between this and feeding naturally, except for the need to expend energy seducing and sedating a meal for himself. A perfect alternative to that pesky chore, as her past charges have stated.
"At least give it a taste before you turn it down."
Allerick sighs as the mage sidles up alongside him.
“That is not exactly the most charming confession, Padrona. I thought we had something special.” Despite the dry delivery of his comment, the sideways smirk he glances at her with betrays a playful side to his personality. Neither of them interpreted this night as anything besides transactional, of course, but there is a part of him that finds her bluntness endearing. It is entirely opposite to the mirrors and mazes he’s used to navigating.
When she places the syringe in his hand, he expects to feel cool glass and see a congealed sludge only a truly depraved mind could call appetizing, but the gift disappoints him in a pleasant way. Lifting the vial to his eye level, the vampire tips it one way, then the other, momentarily mesmerized by whatever forces have kept the snack fresh.
Still, slurping dinner out of a tube is hardly his idea of a good time, and accepting the gift makes him feel a bit like a prostitute. He says as much, but with another of those smirks. “And the last time I imbibed what you offered, I believe I was handled without my consent.”
“Keep this for our travels tomorrow. Tonight I must use my teeth, or I may misbehave.” He passes the vial into her hand even as he pulls her body closer and lowers his chin for a kiss. “Non voglio che tu sibili di nuovo.”
He snickers against her lips and trails kisses along her jaw, then eases away to turn for the door.
“That is not exactly the most charming confession, Padrona. I thought we had something special.” Despite the dry delivery of his comment, the sideways smirk he glances at her with betrays a playful side to his personality. Neither of them interpreted this night as anything besides transactional, of course, but there is a part of him that finds her bluntness endearing. It is entirely opposite to the mirrors and mazes he’s used to navigating.
When she places the syringe in his hand, he expects to feel cool glass and see a congealed sludge only a truly depraved mind could call appetizing, but the gift disappoints him in a pleasant way. Lifting the vial to his eye level, the vampire tips it one way, then the other, momentarily mesmerized by whatever forces have kept the snack fresh.
Still, slurping dinner out of a tube is hardly his idea of a good time, and accepting the gift makes him feel a bit like a prostitute. He says as much, but with another of those smirks. “And the last time I imbibed what you offered, I believe I was handled without my consent.”
“Keep this for our travels tomorrow. Tonight I must use my teeth, or I may misbehave.” He passes the vial into her hand even as he pulls her body closer and lowers his chin for a kiss. “Non voglio che tu sibili di nuovo.”
He snickers against her lips and trails kisses along her jaw, then eases away to turn for the door.
"There is very little that one can find 'special' when they get to be my age." She sighs, an almost annoyed expression glancing across her face, as if she finds it simply inconvenient that the number of unique encounters she's had have dwindled over the years. The times she really does discover something new are moments to be treasured, but this little evening she's spent with Allerick? While not necessarily mundane, it certainly hasn't been terribly... distinctive. At least not in the fashion the vampire is alluding to.
It is interesting to watch him examine her gift, though he seems to do so reluctantly. It's clear he was expecting to be disgusted, though that is far from the reaction she sees him give in reality. Curiosity and a vague sense of interest are what she sees instead. The admission she hears him make after his inspection brings a laugh from her.
"You didn't exactly seem to dislike said handling." Ramona smirks as she lets herself be drawn in, nibbling his lower lip as she takes the syringe of blood back and taps it against her palm. It makes the liquid within froth and bubble for a moment. "Your teeth will be more welcome in my bed if I know you've had a decent meal prior. As I said, you are not the first. I know when such things are safe to play with, and when they are not. Yes, I do realize that you have a remarkable amount of control over yourself for a blood demon, but as of yet, I am uncertain I want to put that control to the test again so soon."
She doesn't need to mention the event she speaks of. They both know what it is, that moment of terror where Allerick had ripped himself from their shared dream with a cry and the pop of buttons coming off of his coat as he tried to rip himself from that too. Poor thing. He clearly has a decent amount of control over his instincts, but his reaction to the temptation she had put in front of him had been... startling.
"Happy hunting." She purrs, watching him make for the door.
-
Maddox is quiet as he creeps into the upstairs bedroom. There's a tray of food in his hands, and Gable's cane cradled in the crook of his arm, all of it delicately balanced as he nudges the door shut with his toe. He does make sure that his footsteps make a little noise, so as not to shock any of the room's residents, though he is unsurprised when he sees all three of them, Jon, Gabe, and Lee, all sound asleep in the big bed.
"I've brought supper up." He announces softly, just in case any of them are awake enough to hear and rouse to the offer of food. Two bowls of easily-digestible porridge and one smaller bowl of rich beef stew are set out on the table, along with three glasses of apple juice and a little brown bottle of tablets retrieved from the first floor. The cane he leans up against the table edge, before turning back toward the door.
It is interesting to watch him examine her gift, though he seems to do so reluctantly. It's clear he was expecting to be disgusted, though that is far from the reaction she sees him give in reality. Curiosity and a vague sense of interest are what she sees instead. The admission she hears him make after his inspection brings a laugh from her.
"You didn't exactly seem to dislike said handling." Ramona smirks as she lets herself be drawn in, nibbling his lower lip as she takes the syringe of blood back and taps it against her palm. It makes the liquid within froth and bubble for a moment. "Your teeth will be more welcome in my bed if I know you've had a decent meal prior. As I said, you are not the first. I know when such things are safe to play with, and when they are not. Yes, I do realize that you have a remarkable amount of control over yourself for a blood demon, but as of yet, I am uncertain I want to put that control to the test again so soon."
She doesn't need to mention the event she speaks of. They both know what it is, that moment of terror where Allerick had ripped himself from their shared dream with a cry and the pop of buttons coming off of his coat as he tried to rip himself from that too. Poor thing. He clearly has a decent amount of control over his instincts, but his reaction to the temptation she had put in front of him had been... startling.
"Happy hunting." She purrs, watching him make for the door.
-
Maddox is quiet as he creeps into the upstairs bedroom. There's a tray of food in his hands, and Gable's cane cradled in the crook of his arm, all of it delicately balanced as he nudges the door shut with his toe. He does make sure that his footsteps make a little noise, so as not to shock any of the room's residents, though he is unsurprised when he sees all three of them, Jon, Gabe, and Lee, all sound asleep in the big bed.
"I've brought supper up." He announces softly, just in case any of them are awake enough to hear and rouse to the offer of food. Two bowls of easily-digestible porridge and one smaller bowl of rich beef stew are set out on the table, along with three glasses of apple juice and a little brown bottle of tablets retrieved from the first floor. The cane he leans up against the table edge, before turning back toward the door.
Allerick smirks thinly, eyes drawing slightly narrow as the woman uses yet another vampiric slur on him. When he was a boy, his hunt-bloodedness was a display of vitality, often provoking a sense of awe and envy in others; to be the son of Occhi di Lupo was to be full of life, a hot-blooded prince running naked and free, subduing the natural world and taking whatever he wanted from it… Everyone desired to have him or to be like him in those days. But now all anyone sees when they look at his pale face is a funeral veil. He has come to accept that the disgust and disdain living people show him are merely byproducts of their own fear of mortality, but their insults are nevertheless… annoying. He prides himself on being anything but the cultish freaks most vampires gravitate towards.
To her comment about his ‘control’, he replies very simply. “Dear woman, I can tolerate anything but restraint.”
It wasn’t the realism of Earold’s blood in the vision that overwhelmed him, but the unexpected loss of his autonomy when he attempted to return to the Lady’s parlor. Above all, and for reasons the woman will understand if she has been poking around his old memories like he suspects, the young Silva-Lucarelle values his freedom. As she hands it to him with her farewell, his expression warms a little and he kisses her hand. “Sleep well, amante.”
Allerick returns from his hunt in the blackest hours just before dawn.
The soft rattle of a loaded breakfast tray signals his approach in the hallway, followed by a quiet pause when he halts, turns the door’s handle, and admits himself into the room. He sets the tray along the foot of the bed, then sheds his suit jacket and peels out of his other clothing without a sound. There’s still time for a cuddle before the garish light of day makes its appearance in the room.
“I have brought you my kill, la mia regina. Two eggs, jam toast, coffee…” As he slips under the covers and seeks the warmth of her flesh, he brings the scent of someone else’s cologne on his skin. Its clean, aquatic scent suits him. “The iced sweet roll was particularly difficult to capture. It gave me quite a run. Left me breathless.”
He nuzzles into her neck and sighs contently, eyes slipping shut. If left undisturbed, the vampire will succumb to the post-feed crash that inevitably ensues after a blood high.
-
“Auntie Madds!”
The whisper is about the volume of a normal conversation, but with an airiness to it that the toddler thinks makes him as inconspicuous as a White Owl slipping down a dark corridor. Considering the fact both grown-ups he’s sandwiched between are sawing more logs than a wood mill, he might as well be.
“Wait for me.”
Lee is careful not to disturb Peepaw as he wriggles free of the man’s arms and the heavy covers, then he picks his way through the pile of dragons that criss-cross like lattice on the bed.
When his feet finally touch the hard floor, Lee’s concentrated expression is quickly replaced by a luminescent smile and he pitter-patters his way to his redheaded friend, arms wide open. He greets the man’s bristly cheek with a kiss and a huge around his neck.
“When is Auntie Ari’s baby gonna be outside her belly so I can play with it?”
To her comment about his ‘control’, he replies very simply. “Dear woman, I can tolerate anything but restraint.”
It wasn’t the realism of Earold’s blood in the vision that overwhelmed him, but the unexpected loss of his autonomy when he attempted to return to the Lady’s parlor. Above all, and for reasons the woman will understand if she has been poking around his old memories like he suspects, the young Silva-Lucarelle values his freedom. As she hands it to him with her farewell, his expression warms a little and he kisses her hand. “Sleep well, amante.”
Allerick returns from his hunt in the blackest hours just before dawn.
The soft rattle of a loaded breakfast tray signals his approach in the hallway, followed by a quiet pause when he halts, turns the door’s handle, and admits himself into the room. He sets the tray along the foot of the bed, then sheds his suit jacket and peels out of his other clothing without a sound. There’s still time for a cuddle before the garish light of day makes its appearance in the room.
“I have brought you my kill, la mia regina. Two eggs, jam toast, coffee…” As he slips under the covers and seeks the warmth of her flesh, he brings the scent of someone else’s cologne on his skin. Its clean, aquatic scent suits him. “The iced sweet roll was particularly difficult to capture. It gave me quite a run. Left me breathless.”
He nuzzles into her neck and sighs contently, eyes slipping shut. If left undisturbed, the vampire will succumb to the post-feed crash that inevitably ensues after a blood high.
-
“Auntie Madds!”
The whisper is about the volume of a normal conversation, but with an airiness to it that the toddler thinks makes him as inconspicuous as a White Owl slipping down a dark corridor. Considering the fact both grown-ups he’s sandwiched between are sawing more logs than a wood mill, he might as well be.
“Wait for me.”
Lee is careful not to disturb Peepaw as he wriggles free of the man’s arms and the heavy covers, then he picks his way through the pile of dragons that criss-cross like lattice on the bed.
When his feet finally touch the hard floor, Lee’s concentrated expression is quickly replaced by a luminescent smile and he pitter-patters his way to his redheaded friend, arms wide open. He greets the man’s bristly cheek with a kiss and a huge around his neck.
“When is Auntie Ari’s baby gonna be outside her belly so I can play with it?”
Ramona’s face falls when the door closes behind her newfound fascination. She hopes he’ll be back. She has a hunch he will be, after he’s had a moment to himself. As much as she’d like to keep him close, she understands the necessity of giving him a long lead for the moment. A little freedom now will help him acclimate to captivity later, hopefully.
But he’ll be out for a while, if her estimations are correct. So she may even have the rest of the night to herself. It’s not a bad thing, per se. But she has grown to enjoy the young vampire’s company. Even still, she’s tired enough to crawl straight back into bed and keep sleeping. Which she does, but only after placing the vial of blood in her bag, and waving her hand to use a bit of magic to freshen herself (and the bed) up a bit.
Hours later, Ramona’s ears perk, though she stirs only a little when Allerick returns. She inhales the scent that wafts off of him, and smiles. It masks the metallic odor of blood that came with him when she first noticed him downstairs, though only barely. It is still early, though, and she is not ready to rise just yet.
“Well done, my mighty hunter.” She purrs quietly as she feels his chill flesh press up against hers. Her head turns only slightly, and only for a moment, but she doesn’t open her eyes. With a surprising amount of finesse for how sleepy she seems to be, Ramona reaches out for Allerick’s hand, grasping it and dragging his arm around her waist to hold her.
-
Maddox stops short when he hears Lee call out from the nest of blankets, pillows, and little dragons. He extends his hand, watching the shirtless toddler wriggle his way out of Jonathan’s arms. The wizard grimaces as the boy’s weight leaves him, his snores going quiet for a bit as he rolls over and settles once again.
“Come on up here, lad.” The redhead whispers as he lifts the toddler up and settles him against his chest. “Well, you see, it takes about—“
He freezes, reality catching up to him as he finally understands what the child is asking. Instantly, he turns a suspicious eye toward Lee.
Surely he can’t… there’s no way he could know… and it was only one night! And I’m not even certain if I, er, got things correct… We aren’t even married yet, oh stars, what if she is pregnant? I know it’s less important in her culture, but what will my parents think? What will Jon think?
He can feel his thoughts spiraling, uncertainty swirling around in his mind as he tries to piece together what the boy is talking about. There’s a chance Lee is just misinformed. A high chance. But the Kendall’s have proven themselves to be remarkable individuals, with no shortage of magic or other uncanny abilities at their disposal. Maybe the child does have some sort of divination magic at his disposal?
“What baby are you talking about, Lee?” He says, clearing his throat and trying to keep his voice down all in one. “Auntie Ari doesn’t have a baby.”
But he’ll be out for a while, if her estimations are correct. So she may even have the rest of the night to herself. It’s not a bad thing, per se. But she has grown to enjoy the young vampire’s company. Even still, she’s tired enough to crawl straight back into bed and keep sleeping. Which she does, but only after placing the vial of blood in her bag, and waving her hand to use a bit of magic to freshen herself (and the bed) up a bit.
Hours later, Ramona’s ears perk, though she stirs only a little when Allerick returns. She inhales the scent that wafts off of him, and smiles. It masks the metallic odor of blood that came with him when she first noticed him downstairs, though only barely. It is still early, though, and she is not ready to rise just yet.
“Well done, my mighty hunter.” She purrs quietly as she feels his chill flesh press up against hers. Her head turns only slightly, and only for a moment, but she doesn’t open her eyes. With a surprising amount of finesse for how sleepy she seems to be, Ramona reaches out for Allerick’s hand, grasping it and dragging his arm around her waist to hold her.
-
Maddox stops short when he hears Lee call out from the nest of blankets, pillows, and little dragons. He extends his hand, watching the shirtless toddler wriggle his way out of Jonathan’s arms. The wizard grimaces as the boy’s weight leaves him, his snores going quiet for a bit as he rolls over and settles once again.
“Come on up here, lad.” The redhead whispers as he lifts the toddler up and settles him against his chest. “Well, you see, it takes about—“
He freezes, reality catching up to him as he finally understands what the child is asking. Instantly, he turns a suspicious eye toward Lee.
Surely he can’t… there’s no way he could know… and it was only one night! And I’m not even certain if I, er, got things correct… We aren’t even married yet, oh stars, what if she is pregnant? I know it’s less important in her culture, but what will my parents think? What will Jon think?
He can feel his thoughts spiraling, uncertainty swirling around in his mind as he tries to piece together what the boy is talking about. There’s a chance Lee is just misinformed. A high chance. But the Kendall’s have proven themselves to be remarkable individuals, with no shortage of magic or other uncanny abilities at their disposal. Maybe the child does have some sort of divination magic at his disposal?
“What baby are you talking about, Lee?” He says, clearing his throat and trying to keep his voice down all in one. “Auntie Ari doesn’t have a baby.”
Lee waits for a few patient seconds to receive the answer to his question, but quickly becomes disinterested by the dumb expression Auntie Madds wears. His gaze and attention fixate elsewhere as he uses his fingers to comb the man’s beard. It’s a lovely beard. He wants one just like it someday, bright red and trimmed up like a prince. He wants that red hair all over, really, on his head and even his arms and his chest. He’d like his fur to be red, too, and to have blue eyes and some red scales on his chest like the dragonborn paladin in the picture book Pa read to him…
Annoyed to have his question answered with more questions, Lee shrugs and crosses his arms. “I dunno. The one Auntie Ari and Pa named together so’s I can have somebody to play with ‘sides you and Peepaw. Can we play Mountain Lions n’ Sheeps in the Book Room now?”
Once Splatters has recognized the boy’s absence, uncoiled himself from his sleeping spot, and scrambled to follow them, the boy points grandly toward the door, with the air of a monarch pronouncing a royal decree: Onward to Play Land.
Annoyed to have his question answered with more questions, Lee shrugs and crosses his arms. “I dunno. The one Auntie Ari and Pa named together so’s I can have somebody to play with ‘sides you and Peepaw. Can we play Mountain Lions n’ Sheeps in the Book Room now?”
Once Splatters has recognized the boy’s absence, uncoiled himself from his sleeping spot, and scrambled to follow them, the boy points grandly toward the door, with the air of a monarch pronouncing a royal decree: Onward to Play Land.
You are on: Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » "I'm RETIRED, for magic's sake!"
Moderators: Keke, Cass, Claine, Sanne, Darth_Angelus