[Mature] A Rainy Night in the Stacks

[Genevieve De Silver]

Morning, the 10th of Loshis 2720

Jean took the cigar back and took another lazy drag and stretched languidly as he let the smoke curl from his nose. This was certainly not how he expected to spend this trip to Brunnhold, not that he was complaining.

He regarded Niccolette's as she appeared to be in thought about her answer. A few days she said, Jean nodded slightly and held out the cigar for Nicco to take, if she wished.

At her question, Jean pushed a rogue lock of hair from his forehead as he pondered his answer.

"Well, no more than a couple of days. I have rather changed my plans." He grinned slightly.

"I have had an idea, I shall pay a visit to the Dean's office, inform them that my poor dear sister's condition has worsened further. Then I shall discuss the plan with Cadoc, see if he has any thoughts."

Jean gave a slight shrug then.

"After that, it's to Vienda to enquire about a doctor I suppose."

Though all that could wait, right now Jean had no desire to leave this bed, let alone the city. The fingers of his right hand continued to caress Niccolette’s side, revealing at the feel of her cool skin. Then once more his mind moved to that scar that marred her skin and pondered if he should inquire about it's origin, as his gaze moved slightly toward it.

[Niccolette Ibutatu]

Early Afternoon, Loshis 10, 2720
Niccolette's Room, the Palazzo di Rhodon

Niccolette took the cigar from Jean once more, settling it between her lips. She held it back to him, smoke trickling from her nose and from loosely parted lips, drifting into the air beneath the canopy of the bed. She suppressed a faint yawn as she finished it, arching her back in a stretch.

She had let go of her side by then; Niccolette sat up, just slightly, and ran her fingers through her long masses of hair, pushing them back off her face. Her eyelids fluttered, and she held her jaw shut against another yawn. Though she had not herself been shot, she found nonetheless she was tired by the activities of the night before – and, she supposed, of the morning to date, coffee aside. She glanced over at the table, but the coffee would necessarily be cold by now, and she was not so desperate as that.

Her hair was tangled, strewn over her head and down her back; she did not try to comb out the snarls with her fingers, but merely shoved it out of her face, arranging it more than smoothing it.

Niccolette inclined her head when Jean spoke of going to Vienda. She had not, she thought uneasily, thought of visiting him all these last months, for all she knew his town house in Vienda, and knew, too, he often spent time there. She had not, naturally, known he had been there – if asked, she supposed, she would have assumed him in Brunnhold. She had not looked for him there, either.

She had not, Niccolette thought ruefully, been much in a mood for socialization. All the same, she was glad to see him again, gladder still that he should recover well from his injury, and uncertain how she felt about the secret he had kept from her so long, still, whatever she did or did not understand of it, and whatever had passed between them.

“Let me see your back,” Niccolette said; she sat up a little more, stretching her arms up over her head, and yawned once more, covering it with her hand. She waited until Jean had at least turned away, tracing her fingertips down his smooth pale skin, feeling the bumps of his ribs.

The wound was, of course, obvious still; Niccolette lay her fingers against the edges of it, checking for unusual heat. “Tell me if it hurts especially,” she murmured, gently pressing the tip of one finger into the muscle around the wound. “Some discomfort is to be expected,” she added, lightly. The muscle and all the rest was still healing, after all, and they had not precisely taken it easy. All the same, it was signs of infections she checked for; she would have known, the living conversationalist thought, if Jean were feverish, and there was no sign of that overall – but redness or unusual tenderness at wound site would be cause for concern nonetheless.

[Genevieve De Silver]

Early Afternoon, the 10th Loshis, 2720

Jean stretched out in the bed and stifled a yawn and smiled up at Niccolette as she sat up, he took the cigar back from Niccolette and blew a scruffy smoke ring. He watched her try and untangled her hair and he was almost overcome with the desire to kiss her, he was about to succumb when Niccolette inquired about his wound. At that he remembered the fact that just last night he had been pierced by an assassins bolt and winced at the memory.

"Of course, also worry not if it does hurt you’ll know." Jean grinned, just before he rolled over onto his front and rested his face on the pillow. As Niccolette’s fingers gently on the wound and pressed examined it, Jean winced slightly. Though it was more at the expectation of pain, which never came. It was tender and a little stiff, though it did not hurt anymore.

The wound seemed to have healed well, there was no redness or swelling around the area and his pale skin was cool to the touch. When Niccolette seemed satisfied Jean slowly rolled over and reached up with a hand and laced it into Niccolette’s hair and smiled up into her face.

"Thank you Niccolette.” The words still fresh on his lips he moved his face to hers to kiss her.

[Niccolette Ibutatu]

Early Afternoon, Loshis 10, 2720
Niccolette's Room, the Palazzo di Rhodon

Niccolette took her time in the examining of Jean’s wound. She focused on it, at first, studying the pink scarring in the man’s back, the pale flesh recently drawn together and the tautness of the skin and muscles asked to do such work. She felt no unexpected heat, saw no signs of infection brewing beneath the surface; there were no spots so tender that Jean cried out with pressure upon them.

For a moment - just a moment - she let herself think of the night before, of the blood upon the sheets and Jean’s heavy, unconscious body beneath her hands, of the steady chanting of monite and the etheric feeling of her field all around her.

She had long since moved beyond the fear of casting on those she knew well. Fear was anathema to spell casting; there was no place for when one came to the mona and opened their mouth to speak. The mona did not care about fear - nor hope, nor joy, nor love, nor shame. None of it mattered; all of it had to be set aside. In the moment, there were words and will, and Niccolette knew well the purging of all else.

Niccolette’s fingers lingered on Jean’s back a moment more, and then drew away. “You are healing well,” she told him. She would have said, perhaps, that he should rest; but he had not listened to her the night before, and she doubted that he should listen now.

He rolled over and drew her in, his fingers lacing into her hair against her scalp. Niccolette looked down at him, and leaned in a little against him, kissing him back. Her hand found his chest, this time, and traced down to his side, curling against his waist.

Niccolette pulled back, after a few moments, gently disengaging, and settled against the pillows once more. Her head was light, and whatever rest she had taken earlier seemed to have drained from her, and left her strange and boneless and nearly weak.

Like adrenaline, Niccolette thought, strength borrowed from one’s own future.

“I should rest,” Niccolette said after a moment. She thought it over, and for all her thinking she spoke anyway. “As should you,” she looked at Jean, raising her eyebrows. She needed, Niccolette thought, to sleep; perhaps later to meditate, and to leave aside those errands which she had thought to run today. Her hands trembled, and she exhaled out the shakiness from them, and folded them against herself.

[Genevieve De Silver]

Early Afternoon, the 10 of Loshis, 2720

Relief that the wound in his back was healing cleanly, weariness and the glowing embers of lust swirled around in Jean's head as he listened to Niccolette's words. He nodded slightly in agreement, weariness had prevailed.

"You're right of course."
He was interrupted by a wide yawn, which took Jean by surprise, then he chuckled.

"Well I was about to make some witty or insightful comment but I'm afraid it has eluded me."

With that he laid his head on the soft pillow, his tousled white blond hair splaying out in a short scruffy halo.

Jean rolled on to his side lace on arm about Niccolette and lightly kissed the side of her neck as he nuzzled beside her, softly he said.

"Rest well Niccolette, and thank you."
And that he fell into a deep and contented sleep, free from worry and dread about the future.