Petticoats and Incantations

Athrym, please. Brunnhold Campus but mostly The Stacks.

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Brunnhold's college town, located inside the university grounds.

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Nauleth Siordanti
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Joined: Sun Apr 01, 2018 12:19 am
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Race: Galdor
Location: Brunnhold, Anaxas
: Magus in the Making
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Sun May 06, 2018 6:01 pm

20th Bethas, 2718
Early Afternoon in The Stacks
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It had been quite a day. Up early to practice out on the Lawn, stretching his limitations in physical conversation as well as static, losing himself in theoretical conversation with a couple of students, and, oh, yes, of course, having dirty kitchen garbage tossed all over his person by a particular passive only to have the very woman who'd distracted his thoughts in that clocking hallway in the first place show up in the middle of everything—

Gods, what a clocking mess.

Still, somehow, Nauleth had managed to make it outside into the bright Bethas early afternoon, quite sure the fifth house was almost over anyway. He'd even managed to make it outside with Athrym, though he was convinced she was a dangerous mixture of confused and frustrated and angry with him, judging by all he'd felt in her field, the Perceptive mona in his own making sure he was acutely aware of the nuanced edge that sharpened her emotions. Dirty, chalky, and now horribly awkward, he still held the door for her and another pair of much younger students who giggled at the two adults as they entered under his loftily held arm and led them both quickly outside the cafeteria and down the stairs, walking along the well-manicured sidewalk for several steps before finally turning and reaching for the Gioran Ambassador—Her hand! In public! In the daylight!—slowing his long-legged strides and turning to face her,

"Of all the people in this clocking school to run into me in the hallway a mess at the hands of a passive, I'm rather grateful it was you. I, uh, I'm sorry, Athrym, I—"

He stopped walking abruptly, incredibly flustered, gold-rimmed gaze shyly meeting her verdant hues, free hand curling into his red hair, wild as it was from his morning spent on the Field of Practical Application toying with electricity and light. He'd avoided her, more afraid that she'd changed her mind somehow about his person than at all concerned for her reputation in his company, afraid that like most of his awkward attempts at a more than friendly relationship with the opposite sex, this one was just another brail waiting to happen in his life,

"—I'm a real ersehole for avoiding you. I have, purposefully. I figured after—after things—that you'd probably be embarrassed to be seen with me, given your status as Ambassador and all. Perhaps I took things a bit far, and, gods, it was all very clocking amazing, Athrym, but you and I—I'm just—well, surely you know there's far more well-studied and interesting Physical professors on our campus than myself, and—no. Wait. And—"

Narrow shoulders sagged and his expression faltered lopsidedly while he stammered and fussed his way through both an apology and a compliment, so obviously out of sorts now that the weight of the past week hung heavily in their fields that he could barely string a cohesive sentence together. He'd thought of her—her mouth, her fingers curled into his coat and his hair, the soft warmth of her pale skin—the young Siordanti was forced to look away from the petite blonde's ridiculously attractive face, from her distracting lips, to the sidewalk between them. By the goddess! Achingly aware that students were meandering past, that other members of Brunnhold's faculty could appear at any time, here he was, really awkward and foolish,

"—and, godsdammit, other than the necessities for class and a couple of theories I haven’t been able to sleep without testing on the field, I’m pretty clocking sure I’ve thought of nothing but you.”

There, with freckles hidden behind a blush and his hint of a smile even more lopsided than usual in his shyness, Nauleth fervently admitted the extent of his infatuation with the Gioran Ambassador as well as did his best to make up for his foolishness. Hard-pressed while still smelling of dirty kitchen water and the outdoors, the tall redhead sighed, releasing her hand to slide both of his into his trouser pockets, the hint of a smile appearing, one side at a time,

“Listen, I can make up for lost time, if you’d like—tutoring, I mean. Or, other things. Or both. Whichever. If you'll have me, that is.” The junior professor left that open-ended and ambiguous, regardless of the coy tone in his voice that complimented his lopsided expression. Godsdamnit, it sounded like a very clumsy innuendo. Maybe it was. Sort of. He was genuine, at least, in all possible meanings, his heart beating a little faster in his chest when he thought of all those other things he’d just implied, not at all bothering to cover up any of his less than academic implications, despite being genuinely interested in more magical pursuits as well as less than academic ones, “I should change. Eat something, maybe. If you'd like to meet back out on the Field later this afternoon, I could—oh, hey, did you want to come home with me? The garden’s got some flowers now, and I can give you a little tour of The Stacks on the way. Make a trip of it.”

This sounded like a ridiculous idea, and yet the young Siordanti’s smile had gone from shy to stupid, enthused. He’d started walking again if Athrym followed, nodding his head in the direction of a row of bicycles that were parked neatly in a series of ironwork racks outside the Cafeteria, a matching one outside many of the more frequented campus buildings, implying one of the bicycles was his, “I think we can make one bike work for two people. We’re two astute minds, after all. I mean—erm—uh, if you want to come with me, anyway. We can walk if you’d rather. It's a little far, though.”
Welcome to Brunnhold, stop-clocker, now go home.

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Athrym Bruthgrave
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Joined: Tue Apr 03, 2018 10:30 pm
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Race: Galdor
Location: Qrieth
: Welcome to Brunnhold. Now go home.
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Tue May 08, 2018 12:46 am

Bethas 20th, 2718
BRUNNHOLD | EARLY AFTERNOON
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Oh yes, she was not impressed.

The blonde wasn’t smiling as they left the building, her green eyes more akin to a snap-winter frost than a lush summer forest. Her field all but crackled, pale pink lips drawn into a frustrated pout as she allowed the two giggling students pass. Her temper throbbed dully behind her eyes, and frankly the Gioran Ambassador completely and utterly done with today.

Home, a good book, a warm fire and the biggest mug of tea she could muster. That was the exactly clocking thing she needed right now.

Exiting the door, she took the stairs without so much as a glance at the red head, fully intending to sweep straight past him and leave the campus with her chin held high. The woman had taken the risk to kiss him soundly, properly, and it seemed the risk had been a little too great for the infuriating man. It hurt, given the junior professor seemed interested at the time, slipping warm hands under her skirts to rest on her knees right on the desktop. And then—nothing. Not even as much as a hello!

Lost in her frustrated thoughts, she balked as without warning the Professor turned and took her hand in his, seemingly uncaring of the fact they were in public. She frowned, forced to slow down before the man as he came to a stop before her, blinking with a small amount of shock as his gold rimmed gaze caught hers almost shyly.

“You’re sorry? Really! So rather than just speaking to me, you’d thought it better to avoid me? More than that, to quite literally go out of your way to not speak to me. Clocks Nauleth, why would I be embarrassed? I’m not ashamed of my decision, and to be fair as the Gioran Ambassador I could have just...claimed cultural ignorance.” Athrym said, her brow drawn and cheeks pink with the memory. It was a pathetic excuse, but it had passed her mind more than once if anyone had questioned her. She couldn't help the small pout that graced her lips, wanting to pull away from the anaxi’s warm touch, but begrudgingly happy that he was at least speaking to her. The Ambassador narrowed her gaze at the man, temper glaring again suddenly.

“Right? So, you’d prefer then I seek out someone else? Because if I’ll be honest with you, Mister Siortanti, I did look. Frankly no one is as honest or as open as you are in your conversation and theoretical discussion, but…” He stopped, asked her to wait, and so the pale gioran let her words trail away, waiting with one dangerously arched eyebrow. It was almost enduring watching Naul stumble his way through his words, flustered and utterly inarticulate.

Almost.

Quite suddenly, the professor blurted out his frustrated thoughts, and for all her boldness and temper the Ambassador found herself rather speechless.

“Oh.” She said softly, looking away at the pathway between them with a surge of warmth across her face and the hint of a smile. He’d thought of nothing but her? Athrym glanced up as he drew his hands away, distracted by the lopsided smile that graced his own flushed features.

Would it be dreadfully inappropriate to tackle those lips with hers right now? Probably.

“Well. Truthfully? I haven’t found another tutor because...well...because I wanted you. I’m not used to being challenged, not the way you’ve encouraged. Usually it’s all ‘well done’ and ‘good work’. I don’t need pats on the back, I need someone who...well franky who pushes me. And you, Professor, have pushed me.”

The blonde chuckled, aware the innuendo was probably not intended but taking it like that anyway. She shrugged, reaching to tuck away a long loose platinum strand of hair behind her ear, almost shyly, regretful at the loss of his hand in hers.

“I would like that. I mean, tutoring certainly. I genuinely would like your help, if you aren’t too busy with your current workload. And other things. Yes, that would be..nice.” Moving to step in line with the man as he walked again, Athrym’s eyes widened and her face darkened, pulse racing in her ears. She spoke, and it was far less composed than previously, the woman not expecting him to invite her home.

“Inviting me home already, Professor? I uh...I thought your kind were the ‘prudish’ sort.” She gave him a side long glance, smiling wickedly as she recouped from the shock, only to stop short at the mention of bikes and Stacks.

The Stacks. With all those humans.

“The Stacks? I uh...don’t know. It’s not really important for me to see that. I’m...we could...let’s just go to your place. I’ve already seen what's in the Stacks.” The Gioran said softly, unable to disguise the sudden shift in her voice or the crack in her smile. Her eyes shifted to the bike, and finally a large grin broke across her features.

“A bicycle? I haven’t ridden one, but I am sure we could figure this out. I do.” Athrym looked back at him with a blush, stammering a further clarification.

“I do want to come. With you. Come with you yes. On..er...your bicycle. To your house. For changing, and eating and garden things.”

Gods if that didn’t sound half suggestive!

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Nauleth Siordanti
Posts: 189
Joined: Sun Apr 01, 2018 12:19 am
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: Magus in the Making
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Tue May 08, 2018 2:03 pm

20th Bethas, 2718
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Good Lady, Athrym was angry. It simmered in her field even as they made their timely, uncomfortable exit from the cafeteria, the reluctant professor all but desperate to get away from both the passive boy and public view. The perceptive mona that clung to his field all but whispered her reasons, but he knew them anyway. She blamed him—he'd been foolishly shy.

Why? Well, who wouldn't be embarrassed when discovered on the cusp of intentionally illicit or at least marginally improper behavior in a classroom? By a passive, no less? Nauleth was made more flustered by her questioning instead of less, his too busy mind finally processing—she was not at all bothered about being in his company because she clocking enjoyed it.

Wait.

Nauleth let that thought linger in his mind for a beat or two of his heart, even while the petite blond berated him angrily: she was angry because she'd enjoyed their time together and she'd spent this whole time wanting more.

Gods, that was freeing. But also, regretful. The time he'd wasted in cowardice! Alioe, forgive him. He almost smiled, but didn't. Not right away. The thrill that warmed its way under his freckled skin was his secret.

Far too used to being judged for his history, for assumptions being made not only of his character, but also his skill level or magical prowess, Athrym's simple confusion made him feel almost dizzy, chewing the inside of his cheek to keep the wicked grin that was desperate to traipse freely over his aquiline features, one side at a time in check,

"You've looked, have you? I suppose I've clocking given you some time, but I think I should say ... thank you? My openness is hard-won, Athrym. My relationship with the mona now a stark contrast to what it once was. I have put in the work, unlike some other stop-clockers on staff who have simply earned their tenure. Listen, I am sorry. I doubted the genuineness of your interests in my person. I'm not used to positive attention. I've kept my head down in grimoires for years."

The young Siordanti admitted with both an uncharacteristic honesty as well as the kind of shyness that could only be drawn out from feeling extremely flattered. He toyed with buttons on his vest, unable to contain himself when she spoke her analysis of his conversational capabilities with the mona, blurting out how restless she'd made him since he'd met her, how she'd been in far more of his thoughts than he cared to admit. It was foolishness, he knew, to allow himself such an infatuation, but surely not all of it was as carnal in nature as his body would have him believe. No, he was quite curious about her abilities and her magical mind, quite fascinated by the difference in perspective she had to offer as a—

She was saying yes—chimes! To everything—gods, what did that even mean?

"N-no. I'm not too busy."

The tall red head stammered quickly, letting his stupid grin loose with abandon, her blush distracting and his heart beating far faster than he expected, leading them toward the rack of variously shaped bicycles while he fumbled for keys in his trouser pockets, "Tocks, it's only fifth form classes, anyway. I think I can make room for some private tutoring in my schedule with someone more on my maturity level. A refreshing challenge, of course—for both of us."

Unlocking his bike, which was a simple but well-built thing, lighter and yet sturdier than most of the utilitarian devices locked up next to it, the junior professor shrugged off his satchel, digging out his coat that was still covered in chalk dust, setting his bag on the rack that sat over the back tire before covering it with his poor, soiled coat. Bending to roll up a pant leg lest it get caught in the bicycle's gears, he chuckled,

"I also said I was intellectually enlightened, though perhaps now is a good time to admit that I may be a little inexperienced. Not at all the same thing as prudish, however." The tall redhead didn't look at her, didn't meet her verdant gaze with his quiet admission, gold-rimmed eyes focused on his hands for a long breath, unable to hide the color on his cheeks. It was not an academic comment, obviously, and while their conversation seemed to flow between both their magical curiosities as well as a much more physical one, Nauleth simply waded into both. It was a waste of more time to skirt around things, anyway, as it was clear their bodies had not forgotten the thrill of their closeness any more than their minds had put away their curiosities from the Lawn.

The young Siordanti cleared his throat, waving his hand as if to indicate the makeshift seat he'd made was hers to take. It would probably be more comfortable sitting side-saddle, considering her skirts, though as he moved to steady the bike, he'd leave the choice up to her, "As for the Stacks, Athrym, I live in them. I don't live on campus. In fact, I live at the edges of the Stacks on purpose, near the terminus of the aqueduct on the western side. It's a bit of a ride, some hills and all, but I know all the short cuts—you, uh, you sound like you weren't impressed with the rest of Brunnhold. It's the lower races, isn't it?" Looking up, Nauleth paused one more time to unbutton the top two buttons of his shirt and roll up his sleeves, having heard the edge of fear in her voice and felt the shift in her field,

"I understand that you may do things differently in Gior, but of all the places in Anaxas, Brunnhold is a relatively safe place. Student culture tends to err on the side of enlightened—not just sexually—" His smirk was pure mischief, "—but also in relation to the lower races. Most of the time. Anyway," He swallowed his racial opinions, breath caught in his chest for a moment simply because he'd just invited the beautiful Ambassador of Gior to his home for no particularly pressing reason other than he genuinely desired her company,

"Just sit there and hold on. Oh, and trust me. I can teach you to actually ride your own bike another time. I think, for now, we'll just ... let you be the passenger." He chuckled, standing above his seat and holding the bicycle steady for the petite blonde to get settled. Once everyone seemed to be as prepared as they could be, Nauleth found his footing and began to pedal, aware that their shared transportation would catch a little attention. He could care less, though thank the goddess Athrym couldn't see how utterly stupid his smile had become for a few moments, standing and putting most of his weight on the handlebars as he carefully found the new balance her body on the back of his bike created.

He muttered a quick, lilting series of phrases in monite, conversation with the Physical always so simple and lyrical in nature. Suddenly lighter and better balanced so long as he managed to keep a bit of concentration going, the tall red head picked his route away from the cafeteria. Tocks, it was good that it was the second tenth and a rest day so campus was far from crowded, for Naul had no interest in avoiding gawking, uniformed galdori. He chose side streets, mostly, making sure to avoid the areas with the most foot and transportation traffic, making sure to hit all of the downhills at as thrilling a pace as possible, grinning and laughing about it because he usually never had a passenger and was forced to be far less reckless than usual—he didn't cut corners or weave between carriages, he didn't take the narrow alleys and he didn't hit any of the dangerous hills.

The reluctant professor spoke very little, only pointing out a few land marks, letting Athrym know a few of the places they passed were more questionable in the evening for a galdor woman alone, and explaining a particular bookshop that he tended to favor for rare books. The rest of the ride was quiet, Nauleth concentrating on both his assistive spell, the physical intensity of transporting two people on one bicycle, and making the right choices in route, which was a bit longer and more tiresome than the Gioran Ambassador had probably assumed. He hadn't been kidding when he said he lived at the edges of the Stacks, near Brunnhold's beautiful outer wall, and the ride through the Stacks had been a good twenty minutes worth of sight-seeing.

The street his shared house was on appeared to be a quiet one. Homes had enviable yards with a few lovely trees, flowerbeds were well-kept, and probably a few of them housed more retired faculty and staff than young people like himself. He slowed to a stop eventually, hopping off while keeping the bicycle upright by the handlebars, grinning and panting over his shoulder at his petite blonde passenger, dizzy because he'd skipped breakfast and breathless because he'd made sure to keep things as exciting as possible for his guest.

"Now, here's hoping my housemates aren't home. Ha. I mean, they shouldn't be. Anyway. See, that's mostly my garden—" Naul was laughing, suddenly strangely nervous as he leaned his bike against the inside of the wrought iron fence that marked their rented property, grabbing his satchel and coat and nodding in the direction of a few neat rows of vegetables and a small square of very well-organized flowers before he made his way to the door, patting himself down for keys again. They were around somewhere. Maybe he was a little distracted.
Welcome to Brunnhold, stop-clocker, now go home.
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Athrym Bruthgrave
Posts: 120
Joined: Tue Apr 03, 2018 10:30 pm
Topics: 13
Race: Galdor
Location: Qrieth
: Welcome to Brunnhold. Now go home.
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Wed May 09, 2018 6:04 pm

Bethas 20th, 2718
BRUNNHOLD | EARLY AFTERNOON
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Athrym chuckled as he searched for the lock keys, shaking her head at naivety of the red head. He’d fought to earn his spot, and after such a horrific backlash he’d fought to win the mona’s trust again. That combined with his authoritative attitude and actual skill—the junior professor might not see the way the older form girls giggled and glanced back at him, but she sure as clocks did.

Perhaps for the best that he’s not noticed. For you at least.

“Excellent. I would like that very much, Nauleth. I care promise I am a patient student, but I like to think I am a persistent one.” The gioran said by way of some strange pre-apology, as though giving the man good fair warning. Standing with hands clasped before her black skirts, Athrym watched as Naul made the proper adjustments for their bike ride. His words confused her, for a moment.

“Oh?” Frowning in thought, her eyes suddenly widened and she glanced away with a blush, her stomach turning over and pulse rushing in her ears.

“Oh! Right. Well. I have some limited...uh...experience. Gior is a lot more...forward...than Anaxas. We aren’t particularly...particular...about getting right to the point.” She cleared her throat as he did, and paid as much clocking attention as she could to the makeshift seat he’d gestures to, taking the chance to get her composure in check. It was true, Gior was far more directive in their actions, both in life and love. Long courtships weren’t really a ‘thing’, far too much dancing around and wasting time.

The Stacks.

The blonde didn’t look up, instead straightening from her inspection of the seating, her pale jade eyes on her hands with a frown. Her cheeks were warm, although perhaps more in embarrassment than awkwardness.

“It’s..yes. We don’t have humans in Qrieth. Galdori live with galdori. We are workers, politicians, students, farmers...entirely self sustained. We pride ourselves on this purity. Humans have their own place, and it is not with us. They’re like...dangerous wildlife. Don’t talk to them, don’t associate with them.” Glancing up, she met his infatuating gold rimmed gaze with a smile in return.

“I’m sure it’s safe, I guess. Just...it’s a bit confronting seeing them mingling in the streets like they’re regular people. What if they decided to lash out? Have you seen how clocking big some of them are?” She waved her hand as if to say ‘anyway’, moving to sit side saddle on the makeshift seat, tucking her skirts in under her to try and keep them from the wheel.

“Alright. Just, take it easy? I don’t want to end up in the gutter.” As they took off, slowly to begin with, Athryms hands immediately grabbed for him, holding onto his waist with a small sound of surprise. They were sluggish at first, till the taller Anaxi intoned the mona in a most creative way, and then they were off. They didn’t stay on the main road, Nauleth veering to move them down backstreets and alleyways, the ambassador listening as he occasionally called out places of interest or note. Her stomach dropped when he took the first downhill at speed, clinging to the man with a little scream of exhilaration, laughing once they’d reached the bottom.

“Clocks!” The pale woman breathed in Gioran, heart pounding so fast she feared it might explode. They continued through the township, passing the occasional person, Athrym’s green gaze watching any human they rode past with an eagle eye and a tightness in her field. The bike ride was nice, wind in her face and hands on the galdor before her. Much to her disappointment, it was over much too soon. Hoping off the bike, the blonde grinned ridiculously, her face flushed and eyes bright.

“You must teach me how to ride. That was down right invigorating!” She announced excitedly, smoothing strands of platinum hair back into place as she took in the front yard of Nauleth’s place of residence.

“Housemates? How very ‘student’ of you, Professor.” The Ambassador said with a laugh, before moving to inspect his garden, brushing her fingertips across some of the flowers. She paused over one of his small crops, broccoli by the looks, reaching out with her field to collect the Living mona that danced around her. Muttering softly, she requested politely to encourage growth in the plant, her hand hovering above to direct the spell. Slowly, the vegetable grew, the stalks becoming longer and the heads of the florets much thicker. The spell ended, and Athrym looked at the man again with a smile.

“It’s a very fine mostly yours garden, Professor Siordanti. You should be proud.” Moving away from the foliage, she stood slightly behind the red head, hands clasped behind her back as she waited for the potato water soaked man to unlock it. She played nonchalant, glancing at the house as though inspecting the architecture.

Really, she was a nervous mess, dawning quite suddenly that she was about to enter the private home of Professor Nauleth Siordanti. To of course, give the man a chance to change from his soiled garments. Still, the gioran couldn’t hide the jitter in her field.

“It’s a lovely property too. Away from all the uh...bustle of the town.” Athrym said softly, finding anything to discuss to distract herself, digging deep to find the stoic mental strength of her people.

This was completely acceptable activity. A perfectly normal house visit with her tutor.

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Nauleth Siordanti
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Joined: Sun Apr 01, 2018 12:19 am
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Race: Galdor
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: Magus in the Making
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Mon May 14, 2018 4:12 pm

Bethas 20th, 2718
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Athrym's immediate reaction to his rather honest talk made Nauleth's grin that much more mischievous, amused at putting the petite blonde on the spot in some ways because he always felt as though she was doing the same thing to him every time they were together. She stammered over an admission, and while he hadn't entirely intended on dragging out any admissions of her personal experiences when it came to sexual encounters, well, he would be lying if he said he didn't want to know at all. Perhaps he could have commented, but her reaction to his mention of The Stacks and lower races dragged him away from that part of the conversation,

"You do all of your manual labor yourselves? And you think we're the backwater Kingdom! Please."

The tall Anaxi chuckled, rolling his eyes as if the comment at all erased the flush of color from his cheeks at their almost-conversation. He shook his head, "Dangerous wildlife ... well, maybe I'll give you that, Athrym, but galdori are superior. It's our duty to keep the dangerous wildlife in check lest we, ourselves, are overpowered. Separation, I suppose, is one way to deal with it all, but still. You don't have anything to worry about here in Brunnhold. I can't guarantee elsewhere, as there are plenty of weak-minded lower races who desire for the power we have and are eager to shed blood to have it—rabid animals to be culled, as far as I'm concerned, if they can't recognize how beneficial it is to have our minds and magic as guardians."

He shrugged, however, his tone of voice not entirely committed to his commentary. Whenever Nauleth sat down to think things through himself and follow the natural conclusions of how Anaxas lived in racial division, he could see the Gioran Ambassador's point and appreciated the foreign perspective. Even Mugroba did things a little differently, and their conflicts were lesser affairs. Perhaps there was something his Kingdom could learn from others, but thus far, as long as Arasmus was the High Judge with his coat-tail riding Lower Judge and the King was a sniveling fool, nothing would clocking change.

"Lash out? Gods, there's Seventen around. Or other galdori. One human, no matter how large, isn't too much of a challenge for a galdor on top of their casting game. Anyway—"

He settled on his bike and smiled at her nervousness, watching her find her balance with her skirts. When he started slow, her hands immediately reached for his person and he managed not to make a noise of surprise of his own, his voice almost nervous as he answered,

"You won't end up in the gutter. I promise. Trust me."

Ah, but he couldn't help but find all the good hills, perhaps taking far too much pleasure in the sudden squeeze of her arms or her squeal of surprise when he made sure to really build some speed. By the time he'd taken them through The Stacks, he was, admittedly, thoroughly flustered by her touch, grinning stupidly at her request. Perhaps the ride had helped clear the air between them, helped to put the awkwardness behind and leave only curiosity and exhilaration in its wake, which, quite frankly, Nauleth wanted more of from Athrym, not less,

"Teaching you should be easy enough. There's a race in the fall through all of Brunnhold. It's quite a thrill." The young Siordanti smiled, having participated in it over the years, though never really aiming to place in any significant rank. It was as dangerous as it was exciting—a bunch of eager galdori biking around campus at crazy speeds. Cheating wasn't uncommon, given the subtle nature possible of magic, after all. He watched her flushed face and laughed back at her when he mentioned having housemates,

"It's never dull, really, with housemates, but I'll admit I don't miss campus living, either. Sometimes, I think it would have been smarter of me to live alone, but, well, maybe not." Having roommates was both a blessing and a curse—everyone could be a real ersehole sometimes, and yet everyone had come to need each other as friends over the years. His gold-rimmed gaze lingered as the petite blonde wandered by his garden, her fingers gentle over some of the hardier flowers. She paused to tease him, however, hovering over his vegetables and quietly encouraging the mona to cause it to grow. The movement of Living mona through his yard like a light breeze made him blink heavily, one side before the other, but he couldn't help but taunter her back in return, "Is that the Living magic you promised to impress me with? Parlor tricks, Athrym? Now someone will have to eat that. I'm sure Anri will find something to cook with it."

It was easy to make small talk, to smile shyly and lead her to the threshold, aware that he still faintly smelled of old vegetable water, only he was also sweatier now and tousled by the wind. Still, there was more, of course, between them that made the small talk seem like stalling—the unspoken interest in each other's persons that had both already brought them together and yet also kept them apart, a nervousness that tingled at the base of his spine as if he could pretend at having expectations when bringing a young woman alone to his home in the middle of the afternoon. It made him clumsy, the memory of her lips and the tight curl of her fingers in his hair, and he nearly dropped his keys with a chuckle,

"There's enough bustle on campus. I like the quiet sometimes." Nauleth offered, voice suddenly huskier, shaking his head as if to clear it of the thoughts that wanted to meander through, lingering on pale, flushed skin before he opened the door and poked his head in, listening.

Quiet, indeed.

Clean, tidy, and far more spacious than four young men really needed on their own, the foyer had a coat closet and a stairwell that led upstairs to bedrooms. One side of the foyer opened into a sitting room and the other to a well-lit sunroom that was currently occupied by paints and easels and canvases, the floor covered in several tarps. Landscapes, mostly. Someone's studies or a hobby, it was hard to tell. The rest of the house was still a mystery, though there was the faint smell of tobacco and whatever had been cooked for breakfast.

With the exception of Anri downstairs somewhere or out about the Stacks shopping for groceries, it appeared the pair were, indeed, alone.

Nauleth held the door open for Athrym with a slowly budding smile, stepping in behind her and closing the door, fingers leaving the handle with a nervous reluctance. Swallowing the self-doubt that plagued him, that nipped at his heels and had kept him from so much as showing his face near her for a whole clocking week, he moved with a purposeful wanting, hand coming to rest on the small of the Gioran Ambassador's back for a moment, trailing over the decorative fabric at her waist as he moved past her, pausing within her personal space, and turning to face her, suddenly fully aware of the proximity he'd allowed,

"Do you want a little tour? Are you hungry? I, uh—" Truth be told, the red-head hadn't eaten breakfast, either, and his morning had started early on the Lawn. He'd pedaled them both home and to say that he was famished would have been an understatement, but when he met the petite blonde's verdant gaze, he was unsure as to whether or not he cared about that particular appetite and it's immediate satisfaction as much as he probably should have, "—I know there's bread and cheese, and Anri always makes sure to have some fruit around in the kitchen. But, look, I'm going to just change and, well, no, wait—"

He couldn't help it, not really, with the tangible jitter in her field and his fingers unwilling to slip away from her person, and Naul made a mischievous point to hold her gaze when he leaned to kiss Athrym with an empowered shamelessness, aware that he'd held tightly onto the need to do so again for too many days already. It wasn't quick unless she made it so, but it wasn't hesitant, either. No, he knew what he wanted and he knew he wasn't able to say it properly with actual words. Still not adequate enough of an apology, but hopefully enough of a promise, he pulled away slowly,

"—there. That. That was necessary, I must say. I'm clocking sorry I've avoided you over something so exciting. I should have talked to you days ago." He whispered, suddenly breathless, a softer smile gracing his freckled face. His heart raced against his ribs and he was blushing furiously, half-anticipating either her frustrated wrath or her pleasurable retaliation, unsure as to whether he'd made the right move or not but desperate to express both his desire and his regret,

"Now, I'm going to admit that there's more of that if you want it, but I understand if you don't." His admission was so matter-of-fact it was almost incredulously deadpan, but his smile was not. He meant it. He'd had days to think about it, to think about her, but he also was aware he was a dizzy mess. Nauleth allowed the mingling of their fields, his quiet words taunting her with options, hand still comfortably on her waist, "I just need to change and eat something and we can head back to the Lawn if you'd prefer to experiment there instead."

He knew his preference, but said nothing. He'd earned her distrust, though he was hoping to win it back.
Welcome to Brunnhold, stop-clocker, now go home.
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Athrym Bruthgrave
Posts: 120
Joined: Tue Apr 03, 2018 10:30 pm
Topics: 13
Race: Galdor
Location: Qrieth
: Welcome to Brunnhold. Now go home.
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer: Raksha
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Fri May 18, 2018 10:32 am

Bethas 20th, 2718
BRUNNHOLD | EARLY AFTERNOON
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Athrym grinned at the man, her green eyes bright with delight.

“A race? Tocks I would sorely love to do that. It’s almost as exciting as moa racing, maybe more so with the hills!” She chuckled, glancing back at the now beautifully flourishing broccoli with a raised eyebrow and a dimpled smirk.

“Well, not quite the magic I was suggesting, Professor. That’s just a bit of help. Can’t have young galdori men going without their greens.” The blonde said impishly, watching as the taller Anaxi fiddled with his keys, the sudden shift of his tone stirring the color in her pale cheeks again.

“I can appreciate that. Brunnhold...clock, Anaxas is so noisy and busy compared to Gior. Everyone is bustling and loud and your steam powered machines make so much ruckus! I definitely miss the pressing silence that the walls of Qrieth can provide when the night comes and the temple singers rest their voices. It’s quite humbling, to be frank.” The Ambassador entered the building as Nauleth held the door open, her summer gaze taking in her surroundings. Not bad for a shared home, clearly the men had help keeping the place tidy. She tilted her head to take in the staircase and leant slightly to peer into the sunroom currently overrun by art supplies.

Athrym was surprised at the warmth of a hand on the small of her back, turning her head to watch the taller red head as he moved beside her and following as he stepped around to stand face to face, smiling up at him all the while with a slightly arched brow. His field fluctuated nervously between them, a jittery reflection of her own.

Someone had found their feet a little then.

“Hungry? No I’m fine I just—“ Without warning, the Anaxi Professor leaned in, his gold rimmed sea-blue gaze on hers as he pressed warm lips against hers. Athrym’s eyes widened for a moment, surprised by the almost defiant boldness in his actions, her heart all but leaping from her chest. Small hands moved to rest against his sweaty, tussled, potato tarnished shirt as she welcomed his kiss with a deep inhale and a gentle flex of her field. Naul drew away slowly, and it was with great difficulty that the blonde didn’t chase him with her mouth, pulse pounding in her ears and heated breath rapid against parted lips.

“Clocks, you have an absolute penchant for trouble Siordanti. The Lawn, Imaan give me strength.” The pale gioran laughed and shook her head, eyes dropping to the enticing bow of his lips with a smile.

“Just shut up and kiss me Professor.” She breathed, only a hairs breath away from his mouth, grinning ridiculously and allowing the warmth of her field to embrace the man, buzzing with the feelings that stirred from her toes to her head. The red head frustrated her, intrigued her and in some ways intimidated her. He pushed her buttons enough to piss her off, but at the same time he challenged her intellectually. It was exciting, and infatuating.

“Perhaps you can give me the tour...afterwards. Athrym said casually, eyes dropping further to a stray finger tracing monite patterns across the soiled fabric of his shirt as she whispered the syllables that followed. A gentle plea, nothing sinister in tone, to stimulate the nerve endings under her finger and allow them a heightened sense of touch.

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