[Mature] Particles//Waves

[Nauleth Siordanti]

some day early-Roalis, 2719
SIORDANTI ESTATE, VIENDA | MIDMORNING

The eldest Siordanti, flustered by his own boldness, blinked when the petite Gioran squeezed his hands, breathing a ragged breath at the brush of her living mona-laden field. He smirked at her words about her family, left side taking a moment to catch up with the right, only to hum some soft chuckle at her mockery of Anaxas. He could say the same about Gior, honestly—now that he knew all he knew—but he didn't. He kept those words to himself, for Athrym had been there, too. She knew them all already.

"I don't want a clocking audience." Nauleth snorted, shaking his head. While he loved the thrill of impressing a crowd while dueling, especially in his League days, he wasn't that much of a performer. As a professor, he was already surrounded by those who looked to him for wisdom he was never sure he'd ever be qualified to provide. During the course of his recovery from the backlash of his own making, he'd been under the scrutiny of what felt like the entire campus: doctors, magisters, teachers, and peers. Everyone had judged his progress. Everyone had their opinions on his failure.

No one had ever looked back to notice his success, either.

Not a one of them.

Therefore, he knew he owed them nothing.

His satisfaction was not based on their opinions anymore, and if he was to take any joy in a relationship he'd never wanted, hadn't asked for, and now valued far more than he'd ever imagined, well, clock the whole Circle, he didn't need a single ersehat nay-sayer looking on while he claimed the Bruthgrave's promised daughter as his own.

"I don't need one, either. Ceremonies don't matter to me, not like they used to in Dueling League. Those were victories, meant to be celebrated in the presence of those who'd been conquered, but this is very—well—this is very different. To me." Naul smirked, tone somewhat bittersweet, and his gold-rimmed eyes closed for a moment. Pausing, letting the heat of the Roalis sun sink into his shoulders from over his head.

He opened his mouth again, having more to say, feeling Athrym's grip tighten near his collar, tugging him into a lean for a kiss. It was not a demure, chaste expression of shy decision-making but a firm declaration of the path they'd both decided to travel. After a shaky, distracted breath, he finally added to his previous statement, blush bright on freckled cheeks after the lingering press of her lips,

"That's not to say you're not a victory in your own way." Sarcasm became sincerity, but this time the eldest Siordanti didn't stumble over his words or himself, "Just one I'm no longer willing to share. We can go—now—to the Courthouse first, it seems, and then to procure tickets back home to Brunnhold. I'm quite sure Headmistress Servalis and Professor Moore both are eager to hear from us, although I'm unsure as to whether or not Hadrian has dared share with anyone that we're in the Kingdom, safe and sound. If anyone can continue to offer us safety during our research, it's certainly Brunnhold's Board and Ophelia herself."

Fingers reached up and pried hers from his shirt slowly, carefully, tangling one hand in his with a—ah, there it was—a nervous laugh, the sudden static-like jitter in his powerful, stalwart field full of unspoken emotions, bright like the smashing of those little electric light bulbs he'd cleverly invented for exploring the Deep.

"We'd best go, then, before anyone notices we've got plans. I should change, though—" He tugged lightly, beginning to walk back up the path they'd wandered so far down already, picking their way back toward his family home, setting a much faster pace than he'd used to get them into the woods in the first place, "—I'm hardly presentable for Court."

Naul didn't linger on the thought, leading them both through familiar trails, "Teaching, was it? Are you sure you really want to wish such a thing on yourself? I haven't complained enough, obviously." He knew he hadn't. He knew that even if he had never said anything directly, he enjoyed teaching, even if he had found it terribly difficult.

"Magister Siordanti." He added with obvious coyness, "What the clock's wrong with that title? I think I'll wear it well, you know."

Welcome to Brunnhold—now go home.

[Athrym Bruthgrave]

Early-Roalis, Perhaps? 2719
SIORDANTI RESIDENCE| THE SECOND HAND UNWINDS

Athrym smirked, arching a curved pale eyebrow and tilting her head at the Anaxi’s half teasing, mostly serious comment. She patted down the lapels of his shirt and sighed.

“Oh I know I’m a victory, Mister Siordanti. Now you can just, let two kingdoms know too.” The alabaster skinned galdor said with a fair level of matter-of-factness, purposefully ensuring she inserted contractions everywhere she could to remove the Gioran from her voice. Even so, her accent remained, gentle and lilting on the vowels. The wry turn of her lips softening into something much more tender and vulnerable at the mention of going back home to Brunnhold. She blinked, almost not quite hearing the rest of his words, dragging herself back to reality with a curt nod.

“I wonder if he has. I wonder if Ophelia has tried to make contact with Lomenak after that scrying? Doubtless it would have been a pointless endevour. It is important that we speak to her, about all of it. And sooner rather than later.” As the red haired galdor took her hands, the stoic facade fell, and his nervous laughter roiled butterflies in her stomach.

Truthfully, as bold and emotionless as she was supposed to be—had been supposed to be—Athrym was rather jittery about it all. It was one thing to professionally discuss a union for political reasons and such, and ever another thing to plan for future things as a betrothed couple in love.

This however, was a very real and very right now thing, and it was happening.

Lacing her fingers between Naul’s, the blonde woman inhaled carefully, smoothing a hand over her stomach to quell the fluttering and welcoming the mingling of static conversation between the particles of her field.

“Yes, lets.” She said with a measured voice, careful not to let the excitement bubble up like some dithering child. As they walked, the Gioran looked at his outfit, then down at her dress with a tsk.

“I could probably change as well. Brambles are not the type of accessory I was expecting to wear today. Then again, I didn’t expect I would have to trudge through the verdant wilds of Vienda either.” The young woman teased cooly, though she wore a smile on her lips, summer eyes cast downwards at the trail. At Nauleth’s question, the pale creature hummed in thought.

“In honesty, I don’t think I would be a very good teacher per say. At least, not in the same fashion as yourself. I feel as though some of those students are barely a day younger than me, and their respect is sorely lacking. I imagine my patience would run out before I was finished my first day. However,” She raised her other hand, finger in the air to hold the thought.

“I do feel that there is a place in Brunnhold for the art of Echo Casting. Perhaps I could do something like guest speaking, or an optional evening class for alumni. Maybe I could assist in the Gyre and offer my services as a practical tutor.” Lowering the hand, she looked at him with a giggle, patting his shoulder soothingly.

“Oh, my sincerest apologies, Magister Siordanti. I did not mean to offend.” She toyed with the word, before squeezing his arm more seriously, her smile genuine.

“There is nothing wrong with it, Nauleth. You will wear the title admirably, and I will Wither anyone who says otherwise.” As they moved closer to the house, Athrym felt her stomach turn again, and quickly grasped at more words to fill the awkward void. It was soothing, to be feeling so full of silly, wonderful things instead of sadness and anger and fear. She grasped it, tightly, for as long as she could.

“So uh…shall we dress and make a cunning escape somehow? I assume we’re not just wandering through the front doors?”

[Nauleth Siordanti]

some day early-Roalis, 2719
SIORDANTI ESTATE, VIENDA | MIDMORNING

Avictory, indeed, but not a trophy, not like some other Anaxi would declare upon claiming himself a wife—that the Bruthgraves' only daughter refused to even pretend to deny her own acknowledgment of: the petite creature's face lighting up with more than just the dappled sunlight through the trees when she boldly agreed to Nauleth's statement. He smirked at her, aware of the trophies he'd longed for in his youth, the League aspirations he'd once clung to and the bridges he'd burned all those years ago on the Lawn with his backlash. The wins he'd never tasted. The duels he'd denied himself in his irresponsibility, in his anger and foolishness. He'd had to let them all go eventually, but it had been almost as painful to do so as the damage he'd done to his nerves that autumn before his sixth year.

"Only two kingdoms aren't enough." The redhead riposted in a soft exhale somewhere between one thought and the next, almost too flustered to be brought back into focus, needing to ground himself with her hands and his together, with movement, tugging them back into walking.

Athrym spoke Lomenak's name and his smile faded quickly, one side drooping further than the other, "I don't think father would actually betray us to Gior, but he would perhaps at least attempt to get in touch with the Headmistress to let her know we lived. I admit, uh, I haven't asked him. I—we haven't really talked in so long—I just—"

He shook his head, glancing away and into the trees while he led them back toward his home almost by muscle memory. So many hears away and yet so very little had changed: a few more downed trees, the stream a bit wider, and fresh flowers in the garden.

"—it's important I actually speak with him before we leave, also. He's an Incumbent, and we need all the political support we can find. Ophelia and Harper, too, yes. The Chairs as a whole, but, if Hadrian is willing to advocate for us, I should probably ... figure shit out between us. Even if I don't want to. Even if I've put it off for so long. Facing one's own mortality's supposed to change a man—or so I've heard. I've done that more than once and I'm not clocking sure I'm different enough yet to face my own father." Gold-rimmed eyes slowly drifted back toward the path, getting his bearing, jaw clenching in silence before he tilted his head toward the pale blonde walking with him.

"I'm sure brambles are a wedding trend you could start if you wanted. Very Anaxi summer, to be honest. You could just—oh, now you can’t mean that. Wilds of Vienda? We used to play out here as kids, unsupervised and free. This is all very tame, Athrym, especially in comparison to places we can say we've now been—"

Naul might have choked that last bit out, trying to make a joke of it and failing, slowing a little as they wound their way back along the trail they'd followed. Had the Roalis sun not been beating on his shoulders, he might have shuddered at the chilled sensation that crawled over his spine at memories of the Deep, of the cliffs of Qrieth. As it was, he just inhaled sharply and chewed the inside of his cheek instead,

"—oh, please—teaching's the easy part." He changed the subject with a grunt, slowly willing his smirk to return, left side slower than the right, "The truth is it's all the galdori children that are erseholes."

It was good to laugh a little, mostly at himself. He'd been an ersehole once. Still was, but especially as a child. It felt good to laugh, period, shoving the ache in his shoulder away and the fear that fluttered in his freckled chest back down again with the amused sound. Distracted again, unwilling to dwell down there in the maw of that hatcher, the eldest Siordanti nodded at the petite blonde's thoughts, pausing to help her and her dress over a fallen branch or two before glancing at the garden proper and the well-kept, familiar shape of his family home right in view,

"I know a couple of professors who'd love a lecture series on Echo Casting, however. I'd get to sit in, right? I consider your private lessons incomplete." Naul murmured, encouraging her, rolling his eyes at her patronizing even if he thoroughly enjoyed the word Magister from the pleasing curve of her lips. Blue-green eyes followed her gaze back toward the house, snorting at her observations,

"Doors—? Oh. Cunning, is it? Well, this won't be the first nor the last time I sneak around the Siordanti estate. We're not climbing in through any clocking windows, if that's what you're asking. There's the servants' entrance near the kitchens—easy in, easy out." He spoke with the weight of mischievous experience, squeezing her hand tangled with his, before he led them unassumingly through the manicured garden, taking a left toward the back of the house instead of the right that would have led them to the front where they'd begun earlier in the afternoon.

The kitchen door was propped open with an empty mop bucket, letting what little Roalis breeze there was in through the screen door and the sound of laughter and conversation drifted on the smell of leftover breakfast and bread baking for later. To say that the kitchen staff was surprised to see the ginger professor leading the half-Gioran in through the most unlikely of entrances would have been a lie; if anything, the eldest of servants looked the man sternly in the eye with all the experience of someone who'd known him as a child and tsked, shaking her head even though she curtseyed and bowed, even though the other younger men and women all hid their smiles behind shuffling out of the way.

He'd been away for almost a decade, but it was clear some habits hadn't changed.

Not one bit.

Instead of heading through the dining room and into the sitting room and toward the more familiar, more grand staircase that was clearly meant for galdori use, Naul side-stepped into a narrower hallway, tugging Athrym with him, winding her hand to rest scandalously on his hip so he could navigate up the tight staircase, trailing fingers along the banister with a hum and a smile. Before he turned the corner to lead them the rest of the way up, he couldn't help but pause abruptly, snatching a bold kiss because no one was looking. He didn't linger in the taking, just needing to seize the moment as it was, and catching his breath with some shy, lopsided smile, Naul led them up and into the still-quiet guest wing's hall, laden with paintings and spectrographs of the countryside they'd just been wandering in.

"There's no sneaking off in one of the carriages, but if we time it right, we might be able to escape while everyone's assembling for tea." He knew what he was doing, slipping quietly down the hall and closing his bedroom door behind him before he whispered his words, unable to help himself from pressing a little too close just to say them. Warm lips brushed the petite Gioran's forehead before he stepped away, fumbling with buttons and ignoring the tingling of fingers as he did so, quick with excitement and anticipation, jittery with nervous curiosity. He had a limited selection of clothes given the haste of their escape, but what was there was surely sufficient,

"You'll have to help me with a damn cravat, though."

Welcome to Brunnhold—now go home.

[Athrym Bruthgrave]

Early-Roalis, Perhaps? 2719
SIORDANTI RESIDENCE| THE SECOND HAND UNWINDS

Taking an offered hand when it was there to assist her through the garden, Athrym chuckled and arched a pale brow as she moved over the branch.

“That may be viewed as favoritism, Mister Siordanti, though given your…uh…keen desire to learn, I suppose I could permit a sit-in.” She teased, delighted at the gentle wordplay between them. As the couple approached the house, and the question of their escape floated in the air, the Gioran tsked almost disappointingly.

“Oh a shame. I hear climbing through windows is all the rage.” Following the shift in direction, Athrym couldn’t help the smile and small laugh that escaped her as the Anaxi pulled them into the kitchens. Her summer gaze fell on the staff, pale cheeks touched with color as she attempted a brief nod in return to the staff out of awkward politeness before a giggle peeled forth. Expecting to enter into the more open parts of the home, the young woman made a short sound of amused surprise as they took a quick unexpected turn into the narrow hall, obediently resting her hand on his hip as the clearly experienced red head led her up the stair case. The other hand lifted her skirt, feet climbing quickly and carefully to avoid tripping on the red fabric of the borrowed dress.

At the top Athrym almost ran into the man, coming to an abrupt stop with wide eyes and a laugh as Nauleth stole a quick kiss, breathless with the excitement as he immediately guided them onwards through the near maze of his family home. They were in familiar territory now, the Gioran recognizing the images on the walls, stifling a yelp of his name as she was all but pulled into his bedroom. The nervous excitement was palatable in the small space between them, and Naul’s too close words rippled with lavender hues through her jittery field.

He stepped away, and for a moment it felt wrong to be so far apart in such a close space.

“Well let’s time it right then.” She said with a grin, pushing away from the door to approach the cupboard once again, fingers working quickly to remove her own ruby red dress. The brambles would have to wait till later to be removed, regardless of how much the possible damage to such a pretty garment hurt her very being. Standing in her undergarments, Athrym leaned both hands against the opened doors, pursing her lips as she wandered visually over the array of fabric.

Something pretty, and not too Gioran. Something Anaxi.

Reaching for a dusky pink dress, the young woman withdrew a long flowing gown of sheer layers and lace cut outs and ruffles. The long lace sleeves accented her skintone, and the high collar gave an elegance that seemed appropriate for the event. The fastenings were hooked eyelets at the back, far easier than the buttons Anaxas preferred, an easy accomplishment in her mind.

“Of course. Cravats are, in essence, the solemn duty of a wife I believe.” The blonde joked as she took a moment to sweep into the seat before the mirrored vanity, touching khol mascara to her pale lashes and brushing a warm charcoal over her eyelids. Beeswax and a small amount of oil served as a soft balm, just enough to accent the fullness of her Gioran lips. In another place, she would have worn silver earrings dripping like small chandeliers from her ears and diamonds in her hair.

This wasn’t her place however, and her belongings were but a few essential items.

Placing down the small brush that had glossed her lips, Athrym frowned slightly, her field chilled slightly with the reminder of everything that had been left behind.

“I apologies that I may not be the visage expected of one on her day of union, but…it will suffice, I hope.” The pale creature said quietly, standing and turning to face Nauleth with all of her twenty two years showing on her face. Vanity was an ugly thing, but so was self-doubt. Athrym had never been one to doubt herself, these times were just…wrong.

Regardless, the future waited, here in Anaxas. And it would be bright, and loud, and vibrant and far more welcoming than the depths of Qrieth.

“Oh by the Eternal—” She couldn’t help but giggle at the man, reaching for his cravat even if it might have been okay, happy to distract herself from the butterflies rising in her stomach again.

[Nauleth Siordanti]

some day early-Roalis, 2719
SIORDANTI ESTATE, VIENDA | MIDMORNING

"I'veclimbed enough for at least a lifetime, windows especially." Naul riposted. His tone was teasing and light, but there was an edge to it, an edge of wary hurt. He didn't want to think of the mountains of Qrieth, of the last window he'd climbed through to save not only his life, but the lives of others he cared about. There was a tightness in his chest, a stiffness in his shoulder that lingered when he reluctantly stepped away from Athrym, turning to stare at his own choices of clothing and raking fingers through his hair in hopes of stopping the tingling in his left hand.

He might have looked, glancing over a freckled shoulder in order to catch a glimpse of whatever color the pale young woman chose, attempting in his own limited way to find a fashionable compliment—deep emerald so dark as to almost be more blue than green, a color that brought out the shifting, indecisive tendencies of his gold-rimmed blue-green eyes and a deep jewel-toned companion to the dusky pink he might have watched Athrym begin to fasten without his assistance. His glance was brief, mischievous, and he looked away quickly as if he wasn't actually allowed to see her, as if he hadn't seen all of her already.

Distracted, he first opened a drawer and removed the small folded booklets of their identification, carefully tucked away under some of their other belongings. He tucked both hers and his into his vest with one hand, the other reaching beneath a pair of trousers to slip a small velvet box from its hiding place. He'd had the ring made in haste before he'd left for Gior and had fully expected to have the proper opportunity to give it to Athrym while they'd been there, only to have every plan torn apart by vicious jaws and political terror. Tucking that away, too, he returned to dressing himself with a hum that faded into a sigh of resignation once he was wrestling with his collar and the cravat meant to live tucked there comfortably,

"Is it so solemn, that particular duty of an Anaxi wife?" He huffed, leaving the poor thing dangling uselessly unfastened while he chose instead to button his sleeves, smirking lopsidedly though she couldn't possibly see it. She was left to hear it in the lilt of his baritone, "Surely you don't mind being so close to my face on occasion."

She was already apologizing for her appearance, but when he turned a second time to face her, all Nauleth could do was make a little sound of surprise, his sharp inhale of delight cut short by a broad, warm sort of smile that spread across his face slowly, one side at a time, "I'm not clocking sure what everyone else expects, nor do I even care. You're more than sufficiently lovely, Athrym, and, honestly, only my standards matter at this point, since you're so willing to take my name as yours. I'll gladly duel anyone who says otherwise, for that matter."

He managed to sound sincere without feeling too ridiculous, though the eldest Siordanti was blushing by the time he was finished with too many words. Her delicate fingers reached up for the sorry mess he'd made of his cravat, and his breath hitched in his chest beneath the motion of her hands,

"Besides, you see how much I need you, clearly, if my fashion is any indication." Naul laughed, teasing her all quiet and chagrined in their proximity, the heavy weight of his powerful Physical-laden field mingling with hers like a comfortable embrace, "Though if you're quite finished, we should get going before I change my mind and beg of you to unfasten it all instead."

Catching his lower lip in his teeth for just a moment as if he could at all contain the grin he wore, he stole one more kiss from freshly glossed lips before attempting to slip away from her, trailing fingers over the fabric of her dress, along a laced sleeve, across the back of her hand before he made his escape for the door. His gold-rimmed gaze flicked to the clock on the hearth mantle as he did so, squinting to judge the time.

Almost tea.

Perfect.

Leaning with his back against the door, ready to open it again, he let a hand curl around the handle while the other invited Athrym closer,

"We'll just listen for the bell, hmm?" He felt the weight of things settle as he paused, the flutter of nervousness and rush of excitement nothing like the fear and horror that had filled him with so much adrenaline just barely a week or two before. He closed his eyes, pretending to strain his senses, though all he was really doing was hoping to slow down his pulse.

Somewhere downstairs, just as the clock's hands turned, some household servant rang the announcement for tea. His eyes snapped open again, and Nauleth carefully, quietly opened the door, ready to take them back down the service stairs and around through a side hall to the carriage house instead of making their fancied-up selves fully visible to his family or their Gioran fugitive friends,

"Let's go." He breathed another laugh, tugging her with him.

Welcome to Brunnhold—now go home.

[Athrym Bruthgrave]

Early-Roalis, Perhaps? 2719
SIORDANTI RESIDENCE| THE SECOND HAND UNWINDS

Any self-doubt that crept into her mind was swept away by the sincerity of the well-dressed red head before her. Athrym’s cheeks dimpled into another smile, and she reached for the Physical particles that frizzled in his aura, gentle with the knowledge that her choice of Conversation was painful to the damaged man.

“You aren’t so bad yourself. Wonderful choice of colors.” The blonde said quietly, unable to quite throw away her years of culture, taking the lovely comments in her stride. Approaching the man, pale fingers worked deftly on the silken material, smirking a little at the Anaxi’s compliments and the blush on his cheeks.

“I’ll hold you to that, Mister Siordanti.” She jested at the comment that he would duel in her honor, laughing softly as she finished the adjustment of the cravat. Catching her breath to remark again on his fashion sense—it was quite good actually—she held her tongue with a quick kiss and a lacing of hands.

“Save it for afterwards then, if you can.” Her summer eyes glanced at his for a mischievous moment, brow arched wickedly.

“Unless Anaxas doesn’t hold the same traditions as Gior after marriage, which honestly would be quite a shame.” The young woman said with a mock pout, leaving her words open to wide interpretation, before following to stand behind the door. Her face shifted to be serious now that they were in the moment. There was tension in the air, self inflicted and yet the feeling was familiar. Too fresh. Briefly, it felt eerily similar to Qrieth; waiting in the dark for salvation or death, waiting for Kaelum and Leyenak to arrive with the book or for Lomenak to bring their execution. Her breathing sped up a little, and her skin felt artificially cold. If she concentrated, it felt like she could hear footsteps running towards them on stone ground.

A hiss in the darkness.

The rumble of falling boulders.

A wailing scream echoing between the rocky faces of the mountain ranges.

“The bell, yes.” Athrym whispered back, trying to focus on what was real and here, calming her field as the nervous excitement triggered her adrenaline. She could feel it in Nauleth’s own field, and for a moment they stood there, both dragging themselves away from the trauma that would probably never really go away. If he looked at her after opening his eyes, she would offer a small nod and a gentle smile. A survivors acknowledgement.

The bell rang, and they were back in the house, and it was time to go.

There was no thought of what her mother and father would think of this affront, too aware that Carmel would have already disowned her only child. Margol perhaps saw the other side of things, but he'd never wanted anything more than money and power. Now, it didn't matter what Margol wanted. His careful joining of kingdoms with the union of his Gioran daughter to an Anaxi politicians son was all for naught. Briefly, Athrym wondered if his safety was in question.

But only briefly.

The once-Gioran giggled, and allowed herself to be tugged along by her fiance, the warmth of their daring escape filled again with the delight and excitement of the moment.

[Nauleth Siordanti]

some day early-Roalis, 2719
COUNTRYSIDE of outer VIENDA | TEA TIME

"I'm sure my mother would prefer me to thank her for her fashionable upbringing, if only because I know I can take no credit." The ginger professor smiled shyly, watching Athrym reach to sort out his cravat in the properest of manners, selfishly enjoying their proximity and unable to let her know about it—only to make some flustered noise of half-confusion, half-amusement at her heated riposte,

"Gioran matrimonial traditions? These weren't things you bothered enlightening me on during our visit." He hummed quietly, the rich depths of his voice rumbling curiously over his not quite-question. He knew only bits and pieces, and he also knew they weren't anywhere private enough for such glorious isolation. Not unless he felt like snubbing his own family's hospitality to hole them up in some Viendan hotel overlooking the prettier side of the Arova for a few days, totally burning the bridges of all the safe haven he'd begged for once they'd dragged their exhausted selves as far away from Gior as possible just a few precious fistfuls of days ago, "I'm sure we can find some sort of compromise until more suitable arrangements can be made."

Nauleth was blushing, but any humorous expression faded as quickly as it'd appeared, one side before the other. He felt the tension in the petite blonde's field while they waited, listening, and he saw the memories she tried hard to keep from playing out on her face. He felt the rush of his pulse and heard the thrum of it in his ears, remembering with shocking clarity just how confident he'd been in the dark below Qrieth that he'd hear the end of himself, too. That crunch of his own flesh and bone, the grating, fire-bright sensation of venomous pain, and the endless black, hive-minded gaze of a creature that was purely bent on his destruction.

He remembered waiting for Leyenak and Kaelum. He remembered waiting for the airship. He remembered waiting to land. These memories were like acrid smoke in Athrym's field, cloying to his nostrils and curling somewhere inside his lungs, rushing through a bloodstream already full of what should have been much more pleasant excitement.

He exhaled. The bell for tea rang though his family home and his shoulders relaxed, grip on the petite blonde's hand becoming more polite and gentle with the softening of the hard gold-rimmed edges of his gaze,

"Godsdamnit." He whispered to the shadows they both knew, shoving them away with a forced laugh before he opened the door and stared at a servant's high bun and well-tailored back while they disappeared down the wide, spiral staircase that led to the foyer far down at the end of the hall.

The eldest Siordanti didn't wait to see if any of their companions wandered out of their rooms for tea, slipping back down the very narrow, cramped service stairwell, dragging them both back into the large kitchen, much to the surprise (and humorous delight in their outfits) of the kitchen staff. A few of the younger ones giggled, eyes wide, and the kitchen matron who'd more than once smacked Naul's hands away from fresh baked goods cooling on the counter smiled in what could only be immediate understanding. Her dark eyes met his before sweeping over the young woman with him, pressed so close together, and she laughed,

"Thank the Circle you're too old for him to beat you. Go on." She pointed before sweeping her arms toward the younger staff, "Back to work. Nothing to see here."

The tall redhead smirked, lopsided and breathless, before weaving the pair through the kitchen, through another service hall in the large estate, and toward the carriage house, confident in their lack of being seen, the rush of bravado mingled with an intoxicating mix of other emotions he'd tried so hard not to drown him once they'd all found themselves free from the clutches of the Da Huanes of Gior. Everything that had propelled him to that Kingdom, chasing Athrym, chasing knowledge, chasing prestige had been dimmed, snuffed out, by the thick, frigid black of the Deep, by the sharp teeth of creatures that weren't supposed to exist, seared away by Daegerote's heat. In all the fear and suffering, he hadn't forgotten how much he loved—how fiercely and defiantly he'd come to love, really—the Living conversationalist he now led through his home, grinning, but he'd certainly kept himself from feeling so much of it until they were free, terrified of just another backlash (this one non-magical) destroying the other half of his life.

He was still grinning, so stupidly, so flushed, when the Roalis sun greeted them through a side door. It was a short step between the house and the garage, and to say the two men inside playing cards while kenser swatted flies in the shade were clocking surprised to be burst in on, well, it was a shared affair for all of them.

The passives stared at the pair and Nauleth cleared his throat, "Looks like you need something to do, so a ride into town would be much obliged. The Court House, specifically."

There was a bit of a scuffle, standing, bowing, and maybe a chuckle. Curious glances, too, but finally a, "Yes, Mister Siordanti. And Miss—"

"—Siordanti, too. If I have anything to say about it." The physical sorcerer couldn't help himself, the heavy gravity of his field flexing to imply there wasn't to be any delay, "Let's get on, then."

His smile only faltered a little with that admission, serious and stern and not needing the opinion of the help on this decision whatsoever, opening the door to the carriage and assisting Athrym in without any concern about where his hands might have strayed, somewhat too familiar and too full of boldness in this moment to at all be shy about wandering over a body he knew. He was quick to follow, to shut the door as if this was at all hiding once everyone saw them leave, chuckling as he settled too close, too eagerly in next to the petite creature who looked far too pretty to be his at all in this moment,

"The only disadvantage of living out in the country is of course it takes for clocking ever to get into town. I have no doubt we can occupy ourselves with conversation until then." Naul offered with obvious coyness, leaning comfortably against the young woman and brushing teasing lips to her platinum hair with a sigh. There was a bit of a rush outside while everything was set into motion, but eventually, the carriage was out of the garage, into the hot summer sun, and quickly leaving the Siordanti estate behind.

Naul didn't want to admit how much he missed the bright green countryside, the sunshine, and the warmth of the season. His blue-green eyes reluctantly strayed from Athrym's face to out the window, arms and lanky legs finding some semblance of comfort that required as much touching as possible without ruining his cravat—yet. At least she was here to fix it should anything scandalously unfortunate happen along the way.

"I probably should have left a note. Perhaps we should expect to be gone overnight, hmm?"

Welcome to Brunnhold—now go home.

[Athrym Bruthgrave]

Early-Roalis, Perhaps? 2719
SIORDANTI RESIDENCE| THE SECOND HAND UNWINDS

Godsdamnit.

It was one word, but it was weighted with all of the things that gnawed at her in the darkness, the less rhythmical Estuan wrapping around too many traumatic things that would need time to work through. Time, and talking, and help. Athrym was absolutely sure that she would be haunted by those memories till she was naught but an old woman with her knitting.

But she wasn’t facing it alone.

Nauleth’s dismissive laugh brought a giggle to her lips, stifling it as they crept along the hall, watching the servant before them lest they turned around. They turned back to the stairwell, around and down, and back into the kitchen.

“I sense you might have been a portly child, Siordanti.” She teased, implying his knowledge of the kitchen seemed in line with a child who snuck far too many treats, giggling along with the younger girls because honestly she was still one of them—or at least in age and gender. The older woman looked over them, smiling, and Athrym couldn't help but blush and glance at the Anaxi helplessly.

They were so clocking obvious.

Laughing again, the pale Gioran lifted her skirts with her free hand to keep pace with the Anaxi as he dragged her on again, glancing back down the hallway they followed as though to be sure there was no one there. There were more secret twists and turns in the Siordanti household than in all of Qrieth it seemed, Athrym entirely lost at this stage. Looking back as they moved to the carriage house, the blonde felt the warmth in the field of the Physcial mage beside her, sharing her own emotions freely and without hesitation. So much sadness and fear had poured itself over their relationship since Gior, like a cast of wax over an unopened letter, and to finally let go and remember why they’d been together in the first place was a breaking of the seal. Bursting into the carriage house with breathless laughter, the summer eyed woman pulled up short in surprise as the two passives inside stared at them with equal shock. She cleared her throat, lifting her chin and straightening her shoulders as Nauleth gave them instructions.

"Yes, Mister Siordanti. And Miss—"

Brushing a loose platinum strand from her face, Athrym inhaled to give them a name, catching in her throat as the red haired man beat her to it. She nodded to the men, unable to avoid another giggle as Naul helped her not-so-politely into the vehicle. As the door shut and they settled in for the ride, the Gioran peeked out of the window, warm morning sunlight casting an orange glow through the loose tendrils of hair that had escaped their bindings. She let her fingers slip from the blind as the Anaxi pressed himself against her side, breath tickling her neck. As they moved along the Viendan countryside, her gaze followed the relaxing of his comparatively taller person, arms and hands unnecessarily (or necessarily!) touching all there was to touch without damaging their current dressage.

"I probably should have left a note. Perhaps we should expect to be gone overnight, hmm?"

Athrym placed her hand against her chest in false shock, mouth falling open and brow drawing into a convincing frown.

“Good Sir, you suggest such scandalous things! How inappropriate for an Anaxi!” Slowly smirking, the young woman moved in her seat, hands on the ceiling for support as she climbed into the freckled man’s lap, knees either side of his legs. Leaning close to his ear and resting her hands on the seat beside their bodies, the Living mage entwined her field with his intimately.

“In Gior, however, we would be planning more than an overnight stay. We would not see each other for ten days, only sharing letters of a personal and intimate nature. This assures we are appropriately...ready...for our betrothal. We would marry on the summit of Mount Giore, in the eyes of the Gods. I would dance for you, a privately unique Ba Brieth to summon success and luck.” Athrym breathed against the curve of his ear, emphasizing certain words in a tone that was far more suggestive than it needed to be.

“We would feast, and drink, all the while our family and friends would suggest to us fascinating ideas to practice when we are alone. To, obviously, ensure the successful union of our new life together. Eventually, we would escape from everyone—a game would be played to stop us, but we would be clever enough to beat it, because regardless of our state of mind we are bound to consummate our marriage.” Exhaling a purposeful ragged breath, the petite blonde shifted her hips to match her words, letting Nauleth imagine what he wished in regards to her comments.

“Of course, I can’t expect an Anaxi to understand the intricacies of consummation in Gior. Let me explain.” Smiling wickedly as she shifted to Gioran, the flushed creature whispered colorful, suggestive ways to fill ones wedding night, letting her hands wander from the seat to trail across silk covered skin.

“I mean, you get the idea.” She finished in Estuan, drawing back to meet his gold rimmed gaze with dimpled cheeks and mischievous eyes, somehow accidentally on purpose loosening fastenings and buttons to access the warm freckled expanse beneath his lovely jeweled colored clothing.

There was however, particular care to ensure his cravat was not too badly disarrayed.

Though of course, it was easily fixed with deft pale fingers if needed.

[Nauleth Siordanti]

some day early-Roalis, 2719
COUNTRYSIDE of outer VIENDA | TEA TIME

"Iwas not. I ran it all off out in the garden, darling." He smirked at her, mocking some kind of offense while he led Athrym through the kitchen, aware of her implications. If anything, he'd been a lanky thing—taller than his siblings, awkward until he filled out in his last years of Brunnhold, especially after his backlash had nearly stolen his physical health entirely—for good.

The Siordanti house was old and large, a cavernous place full of plenty of hiding places he and his brother and sister had taken advantage of when playing. Now, it was just an annoyance, for Naul felt strange being direct, not interested in explaining himself any further to the staff as he was to his parents or even a Gioran fugitive. He just wanted a selfish moment that wasn't spent worrying about what the repercussions were of their escape or fretting over all they'd discovered and what it meant for Vita itself. Right now? He just wanted to be alone for forty five clocking minutes with the petite blonde he led through the halls and into the carriage house, with the young woman he was too helpful to when lifting her into the cab itself, and the beautiful sorceress he was sure he could fight his way through all the paperwork for to elope with somehow.

They settled into their shared seat, pressed needfully close together, hands wandering, and Naul couldn't help but laugh at her pretend shock, some husky sound of amusement when her pale face flushed with a hint of color and her delicate hands moved over her heart. His smile was full of mischief, but it became downright stupid when she shifted in the confined space, left side lagging behind the right while she settled onto his lap as though she had every right to be there—she did!—despite their somewhat questionable level of complete privacy.

Her field, alive in its own right, tangled so warmly with his, poured like honey between the heavy particles of his powerful aura. He made some helpless noise, breath hitching, hands attempting to find something functional to do with her skirts before settling on her hips, watching her face for the brief glimpse Athrym gave him before she leaned to whisper in his ear. His eyes closed, biting his lip, feeling how each tickle of her breath seemed to wind the clock of his pulse that much tighter, heart racing.

"Well, I for one am glad we're not—"

"Oh, gods—"

"A game? What—"

"Athrym—" He hardly got a word in, helpless beneath her, barely able to interrupt so much as lean a little to listen. He brushed lips against pale skin when given the chance, but she was whispering achingly suggestive things to him and he was quite sure he might lose his mind any moment. The redheaded professor was breathless while she emphasized her Gioran with motions of her body, his face on fire, his entire self feeling suddenly quite heated—too many layers of formal clothing, all of them uncomfortable with each teasing movement of her hips, "—clocking hell."

He huffed, her fingers toying their way past buttons to trace lightly over freckled skin. Nauleth inhaled sharply, unsure if he could focus at all, hands wandering up over the fine details of her dress, touch featherlight while he moved to hold her face, "I get the idea, yes, but I'm also so very glad I don't need to endure any of those exhausting formalities in order to enjoy any of the exciting—uh—intricacies of consummation. I'm sure they're fascinating and have their cultural place, but I'm not sure if I could stand to be separated from you for ten days, not after everything."

His smile softened, blue-green eyes searching her face, both sincere and impatient, aroused but determined to make his point. He gently tilted her face toward him for a deep, lingering kiss, whispering against her lips when he decided to give her a moment to breathe, hardly able to sound quite as aloof as he wanted. Instead, he was just husky and coy, blushing furiously and shifting his hips because she needed to know how much of an effect she'd had on him already, just a handful of minutes into a long ride toward the court house in Vienda proper, "Even if none of those ceremonies mattered—which they have their place, yes—but—did you—do you have a dance prepared for me, Athrym? Did we sneak out to elope too soon?"

The ginger sorcerer smirked, careful not to disturb her styled hair, hands wandering downward from her face over a body he was already quite familiar with, eventually attempting to sneak under her skirts, hunting for skin. He couldn't help but tease, depths of his voice far more scandalous in tone than his actual words, "The only formal ceremonies here in Anaxas mostly involve the signing of paperwork, the handing over of property rights, and the severance of a daughter's legal burden from her father to her husband. Seeing as we're both of legal age and graduated, our, uh, paperwork should be perhaps only slightly less exciting than all you've just so tantalizingly described."

Welcome to Brunnhold—now go home.

[Athrym Bruthgrave]

Early-Roalis, Perhaps? 2719
SIORDANTI RESIDENCE| THE SECOND HAND UNWINDS

Delighted by the reactions of her Anaxi fiancé, the younger woman dragged out the entirely unnecessary explanations, the many vowels of her native language overly lilting and expressive. Truthfully, the effect that it clearly had on the red head was no less than her own, perhaps not as obvious in physical elements.
​​
​​He swore, and she giggled again, stroking manicured nails over freckled skin. It had been too long for normal, too long existing in something between fear and panic. Anxious about every little thing, and playing a game of cat and mouse with the Da Huanes—rather the ones that wanted them silenced. She wanted to dive headfirst into the feeling of freedom. Not just freedom in the literal sense, after seasons of political arrest, but freedom of expression. Athrym wasn’t Gioran anymore, not by the laws of her people. She didn't have to hide her emotions, or monitor her tone. She didn't have to formalise her words, or assume superiority. She could do whatever the clock she wanted.
​​
​​Shifting her lips from his ear to his neck with soft biting kisses, the blonde paused and sat up as Nauleth held her face, the heated playfulness of her actions shifting into something much warmer and softer as the Physical sorcerer spoke gentle words of affection that touched her heart. Her dimpled, mischievous smile was far tenderer, summer eyes slipping closed as the man tilted his head to kiss her. It was sweet and expressive, yet still retained the deep passion that simmered between them. By the time the Siordanti son broke away to whisper against her mouth, the young woman found herself flushed with heart beating loudly in her ears. He shifted his hips, and her breath caught in a gasp, as though she’d almost forgotten where she was seated. Her eyes opened slowly, lower lip tugged between her teeth, meeting the man’s gold rimmed gaze with unrestrained desire.
​​
​​ “I uh—” Athrym’s lashes fluttered as warm hands met pale skin, fingers slipping from loosened buttons to pluck at the fastenings of Nauleth’s pants, not quite sure she was in the right frame of mind for good decisions at this moment. Quite sure she didn’t care.
​​
​​ “Every girl learns the basics of her union dance before her fifteenth birthday. Advanced techniques are taught in ninth form, and we are expected to be prepared for marriage by twenty.” The pale creature glanced up again, her cheeks flushed bright pink.
​​
​​ “I could always show you…later.” She said quietly, a hint of shyness creeping into her bold and needful voice. It was a private thing, a wife's Ba Brieth, more so than the any intercourse or wicked words. Athrym knew hers, though in all honesty she'd never planned on using it. No one would want to marry a filthy half-blood. Why even learn it?
​​
​​At least she could thank Carmell for forcing that upon her.
​​
​​Fussing over fastings that were a lot more difficult to get to at this angle, the petite creature briefly appreciated the consideration the Anaxi took for keeping them looking more-or-less composed, smirking a dimpled smirk as the carriage rattled along and Nauleth muttered suggestively.
​​
​​…and the severance of a daughter's legal burden from her father to her husband.
​​
​​ “I’m sorry what?!” The young woman laughed in disbelief, her hands pausing in their actions and brow arching incredulously. Her field shifted in shock, like chilled water down ones back, and she tilted her head slightly.
​​
​​ “A legal burden. From my father, to my husband?” There was a lilt in her voice, amusement and a tinge of indignation.
​​
​​ “How does that work, given my father didn’t ever own me or my legal burdens? I’m not property, and no man controls my actions.” Scoffing, Athrym waved a hand dismissively.
​​
​​ “Clocking Anaxas.” She chuckled, the word foreign on her tongue, hands moving again to the hidden skin that she'd uncovered previously.