[M] Far from Home/Home at Last

Once settled in Qrieth, Nauleth does the right thing. Sort of.

Gior's galdori temple city and also most populated. Home of the ruling Gioran family as well as the center of Gioran education with both the Temple and the University in the same location.
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Nauleth Siordanti
Posts: 114
Joined: Sun Apr 01, 2018 12:19 am
Topics: 15
Location: Qiereth, Gior
Race: Galdor
: Magus in the Making
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Writer: Muse
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Thu Jan 10, 2019 10:41 am

39th of Achtus, 2718
UPPERTON | Early MORNING
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Nauleth had traveled before, a few times, by aeroship with his father Hadrian and sometimes with his whole family as a very young boy to Gior, to Thul'ka, and to Florne. The locations were like distant dreams now, snippets of pastel-painted memories from a lifetime ago, a life where he was someone different, someone who might have had a more whole body but was far angrier a person, even as a child.

The long flights in the air were strange, disconnecting one from the ground below in both body and thought. The past several months had been a whirlwind, and it was only with his freckled forehead pressed against thick, chilled glass that thrummed with the loud and constant rumble of engines that Nauleth could truly sort through everything, the good and the bad, the new and the strange, the hurt and the excitement spread before him like the snow-covered landscapes far beneath their strange piece of engineering in the air. He sifted through much of his life in quiet, quelling his incessant curiosity about how the mechanics of aeroships worked and how he could make them more efficient by forcing himself into introspective solitude, aware of the life changing choices he'd made by leaving his homeland to become more than just a visitor in another.

The journey from Vienda to Qrieth was not only exhaustively long, but it certainly wasn't the smoothest, safest route, either. Winter hit hard in Achtus, bringing frigid weather and snow and wind, threatening to halt their long flight over rolling hills, over the mysterious mist of the west, over forests, and finally over mountains. It would have been a terrible end, and yet the turbulence had eventually given way to towering peaks and rocky grottos.

Gior was a shockingly beautiful Kingdom in its unfamiliarity, and the great temple city of Qrieth was nestled so high in the cliff faces that Naul was left convinced the feeling of pressure in his ears wouldn't ever go away. Everything was breathtaking. Everything was new. This was an unwritten chapter in the young sorcerer's life and he was very sure he wasn't at all prepared for any of it.


Arrival was simply another blur of awkward formality, introductions, names he wouldn't remember, bowing and ceremony, tours of the University and the Temple until his feet ached and his eyes were tired from all of the beautiful stonework and subtle phosphor lighting. It was cold. Everyone towered above the ginger Anaxi who was so used to standing above most of his people. He stumbled his way through the vowel-filled language of Gioran, aware that he was far from fluent, dragging Norwyn with him through all of the conversation because his younger brother was a necessary companion. Naul would never have been able to endure all of the social exercises alone, and he'd never intended to.

He should have been meeting professors and delegates, faculty and staff with Athrym, but did she even know when he'd made it safely to Qrieth? Meals and officialness over, the Siordantis were given an office to share in the Temple, though they had access to whatever and whoever they required from the secular University as well. Pale, angular faces carved from the ice and snow themselves eventually all began to look alike and by the time the pair were shown their impressively spacious and nice shared apartment in Upperton, all Nauleth wanted to do was sleep. In a lump. On a bed. Under far too many blankets.

So he did.


Travel-lagged, the eldest Siordanti was wide awake before dawn according to the clock and his pocket watch on his dresser, though the sun wasn't something to go by when one was now nestled inside a mountain far from its view. It was in his restless fumbling in the dark of his room, half unpacked, that he realized there'd been a letter waiting for him on the small secretary desk near his delicately carved armoire. Curling back under the covers for a precious few moments, Naul read Athrym's reply by candlelight, regret and longing wrestling for dominance in the cavity of his freckled chest. He had another busy day—later—the brothers expected for a more formal sort of dinner in the evening once they'd rested from their journey and the past two days of getting settled. He had the morning to himself and could write a reply, or—

Or he could do the right thing.

Hiding further beneath the thick layers with a groan and the distinct sound of crumpling paper, the professor took a selfish moment to allow nervousness and guilt to run its course through his thoughts, anger and frustration to gnaw at his insides, and need and longing to flutter against the back of his ribs with a sigh.

He'd missed her.

A month and a half—almost two—apart and he'd never missed anything more in his entire life than he'd missed Athrym Bruthgrave. Not even his parents. He'd missed his siblings, sure, but Nor was sleeping in his own room in their rather impressive bachelor pad they'd been given as if they were about to die in the Deep (which, as far as anyone knew, they might). But the childish longings of his injured youth paled in comparison to missing the woman he'd dared to let himself fall in love with against his better judgement.

She'd missed him.

They'd at least made efforts, obviously difficult and pride-filled efforts, to apologize in writing. But it wasn't the same. Clock the Circle, he knew it wasn't the same as coming to an understanding face to face, as touching someone's hand and being sincere, as—

Fine.

Nauleth had no idea where he was going, though he vaguely remembered signs for the post somewhere or another in the confusing blur of travel through the rather awe-inspiring, breath-taking temple city. Anaxas had absolutely nothing like the carved landscape of Gior's cities. Nothing. Crawling from bed, uncaring of the actual hour, the eldest Siordanti dressed and filled himself with the warmth of coffee and a few quiet moments in front of the hearth, leaving his still-sleeping Norwyn a note that he'd be home in time to pick him up for their dinner, that he was off to explore and get lost and do the right thing. Nor would know what that meant. Most likely. Probably.

Tucking all of his official papers into his vest and bundling in more layers than any Gioran would consider practical because the insides of the mountains were still clocking cold to the freckled foreigner, Naul steeled himself for wandering the city, completely ignorant of the possibility that Athrym's residence was, logically, also in Upperton. Clueless to the structure of Qrieth save what he'd already been introduced for, Nauleth spent the earliest hours of the morning exploring quiet streets and still-sleeping alcoves, eventually finding the office of the Postal Service and inquiring after Miss Bruthgrave's current address, chagrined to realize that he'd have to trek his way all the way back to where he'd started!

Granted, finding this information out was a task in itself, the eldest Siordanti's rough around the edges Gioran causing quite a bit of amusement among the postal workers in the office, quite confident they gave him a linguistic run around by pretending for several moments not to understand any of his questions, having a go at the short red head and his flustered shyness. Exasperated but eventually successful, it was a discouraged professor that returned to the carefully honed and well-carved streets of the city he'd be calling home for the Circle only knew how long.

Once it literally dawned on the Anaxi galdor that he was definitely headed back toward the upperclass part of Qrieth, glancing into storefronts and marveling at the differences, caprising new fields and feeling the absence of tall strangers who didn't have one at all, he began to doubt his purpose in even bothering to go at all. He could have stopped for breakfast. He could have stopped in the Temple for a bit of quiet prayer to gather himself one more time. He could have paused at his office to clear his head. Instead, he waded through the waking citizens, Gioran galdori with their rigid fields and judgmental glares at the messy red top of his head, all of them ivory towers who'd already decided the stranger in their midst was inferior. His stomach growled its objections to the long-erse walk and yet he indeed filled his too-busy mind with silent prayers in his head to whichever God or Goddess of the Circle felt like listening, aware that even if he was far from Anaxas, he was never really far from Alioe.

He'd felt welcomed by those that had already welcomed himself and his brother, an air of excitement about the Siordantis' arrival with their wild theories and experiments in electricity and willingness to go where others had not. Outside of those greetings, however, Nauleth was aware he was an unwanted stranger, an ignorant Anaxi, and a diminutive presence among giants physically. Mentally, he had no doubts that he was more than simply on par with the masses, believing his intellect and monic understanding superior to many, possessing a very keen confidence in his magical and scientific theories, in his academic prowess. But that didn't mean he didn't feel so clocking small in such an ancient, sacred place.


Naul might have already been plumb knackered again by the time he found himself on the street that supposedly contained Athrym's home—Good Lady, did she even live alone? Would her parents be waiting behind the door? What would he even do then?—a nervous energy making him restless and keeping him moving despite the sudden desire to crawl away to the safety of his apartment clawing at his insides.

He could just write another letter.

They didn't need to see each other. Not yet.

He said he wouldn't do this—

—but she'd said—

Well, they'd both said a lot of things, and the redheaded foreigner knew that he wouldn't really be able to function in Qrieth without at least attempting to speak to her, even if it, once again, ended poorly. The petite blonde was still his fiancé after all, and he cared. He did. He just wasn't sure he was ready, but he found his way in front of the proper door anyway, chewing the inside of his cheek and ignoring the static of nervousness in his field. Hesitating like an awkward stranger on the threshold, he had no idea what he'd just decided to do, aware that this falling feeling in his guts was all he'd felt since graduation, was all he could think about in the whirlwind of packing and traveling, and was all that filled him when he thought of some of his reasons for being in Gior in the first place.

Maybe he should have waited. Maybe he should have stayed in bed. Maybe she wouldn't want to see him. Maybe she'd find another reason to be angry. Maybe this was a horrible idea. Maybe it was the only good one.

Nauleth knocked—quietly at first, hesitant.

Stepping back, he shoved his sweaty, trembling hands into the wool pockets of his too-heavy coat and resisted the urge to hide in the thick folds of his scarf, willing himself not to turn on his heel and walk away as quickly as possible, hearing the staccato rhythm of his heart pound its way through his pulse in nervous anticipation, the flush of chagrin already threatening to wash away every freckle on his face like the sun chased away the stars.

Naul reached to knock again, louder but still unsure. As he raised his hand and his sea glass-colored eyes wandered over the intricacies of carved stone that made up the Upperton home's architecture, something in his chest tightened and he felt his heart sink heavily against his insides. He shouldn't be here. He was a surprise and he'd have to explain himself and he'd promised—he'd clocking promised himself—to not do this, not yet. There was a twinge of guilt, the sharp sting of regret like some Lashing on the Lawn, and after all of the meandering from this part of the city and back again like some clocking idiot, totally unaware that Athrym indeed lived in the same section of Qrieth in his geographical ignorance, the eldest Siordanti was tired. His walk had been visually pleasing but mentally and physically exhausting. He'd made a mistake.

He should really just go home.

He took a step back and then another. One more, heel of his shoes brushing the edge of the steps and prompting him to turn and walk down them, each step easier than the one before it as he began to flee. It was better this way. He'd just run in circles all morning long—why not make a full one and crawl right back into bed where he started?
This isn't Brunnhold any more, ersehat, and you're not going home.
Last edited by Nauleth Siordanti on Mon Jan 14, 2019 3:23 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 2317

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Athrym Bruthgrave
Posts: 84
Joined: Tue Apr 03, 2018 10:30 pm
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: Welcome to Brunnhold. Now go home.
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Sat Jan 12, 2019 6:10 pm

39th of Achtus, 2718
UPPERTON | MORNING
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It had been an uneventful morning for Athrym Bruthgrave that day, the quiet of the mountain pressing down all around them seemingly louder than she recalled in those early hours. In comparison, Anaxas had been noisy all the time, rickshaws bustling by and people laughing and walking the streets even in the first and second houses as they came back from one of the taverns in the Stacks. Birds singing and night time creatures making noise. It had been so hard to get used to, and yet now back in Qrieth, before the citizens woke up it was deafeningly quiet.

It would take some time to get used to the lack of sound again.

It had been two weeks or so since she wrote her last letter for Professor Nauleth Siordanti, and since then the weather had taken a vile turn for the worst. The pass from Qrieth to the foot of the mountains had been closed off due to the snowfall, and the summit was considered unacceptable until the storms were less violent. Worry gnawed at the blonde galdor, and she had even gone so far as to check in with the Ampitheatre offices to see if the Siordanti’s had arrived. Unfortunately there had been no word, but they advised of no disasters either. So, perhaps his airship had turned back to Anaxas. Perhaps the tall redhead and his brother had detoured to Civeita or Giorite. The former would be the most logical choice, given it was in the more temperate climate of Upper Gior.

Yes that had to be it.

Her mother had pushed her immediately back into additional studies upon her settling in the Upperton home that had been provided by the Da Huanes given her still existing Ambassador title. It was still expected that she would return to Anaxas one day, but the need to reconnect with her people and her God was a worthy reason to visit. And so, rather than put her back in the Middleton home of her parents, the young woman had been stepped up into her own place. It was a lovely place, carved from whitened stone with streaks of quartz and silver ore in the polished floors. The walls were left slightly rough, giving them an interesting texture. Her entrance was carved directly from the street, the door made of sealed Gioran whiteash, arched as opposed to rectangular as was the design of all the entrances in the temple city. Within, she had an open plan living, dining and kitchen area carved in a high rooved large circular structure. It was warmly lit with white phosphor stones in scones on the wall, and most of the furniture was carved directly into the home itself. A stone desk was carved directly into a small alcove of the room, and not far from that a chaise style lounge and a kettle pot heater. Surfaces were dressed in furs and soft cushions, mostly in whites, pastel pinks or greys that were favored by her people. A dining table was the centerpiece of the area, polished stone made from the floor itself. Near the door was a window seat, carved directly into the wall and inviting with thick creamy wolf fur throws. The window itself was a large rounded oval, divided into four and with no glass to speak of. Privacy, should she desire it, was given in the way of two white soft leather curtains she could draw together to close off the world. Outside the window, just to the right of the doorway was a small garden, barely bigger than a child’s bed. It contained a layer of nutrient rich soil, and a layer of soft blue-green lichen. Planted in a pleasing arrangement were clusters of Imaan’s Breath blossoms and a few bright violet tiny flowers the locals had come to know as Giore spray. It was a common ground cover on the summit, that seemed to grow well with minimal watering.

Within the home again, a spiraling staircase led down away from the living area to the bathroom and laundry collection point that the launderers collected once a week. The walls were carved with intricate pictures of various Gioran animals, the staircase handhold itself the scales of a huge snake. A large polished stone tub took over the bathroom, always warm and always full with the slightly blue glowing waters of Imaan. The waters were refreshed each morning by way of a series of values that were turned on and off by the workers that tended the Baths. This allowed water to move from the pools and baths, into the main underground waterfall where it was recycled through the mountain, super heated deep under the ground and refed by glacial runoff.

Upstairs from the living area was another set of stairs, leading up to the main bedroom and the guest room. In the main bedroom were carvings of Aminark Giore and her journey into Qrieth, gently accented by mosaics in various pale quartz and amber colors. The queens sized bed itself was carved from the floor, just like the table, and dressed in thick warm furs of the albino creatures that were bred in the The Menagerie and full soft downy pillows. Due to the location of Upperton, being a government official home, Athyrm afforded a hallway that led from her room to the exterior of the mountain. Given the terrible weather however, this was currently blocked off by a whiteash door not dissimilar to her entrance way. Her floor was dressed in a thick kluiw fur rug and the far wall of the room held a fireplace thanks to her position in Upperton that allowed the smoke to be funneled away. To the left of the fireplace, a deep walk in wardrobe had been carved to contain her clothing. The guest room was simple in comparison, it contained a carved double bed and a wardrobe. If the guests wished for heating they were left to use a small metal kettlepot heater.


After waking at what would have been considered some ungodly hour, the pale Ambassador unable to sleep in the thick silence, Athrym had concluded that she didn’t want to be social today. Not with her parents, not with the Da Huanes or the people, not with the priests or the workers. She had made herself a simple breakfast of coffee with a decent shot of cognac in it, black in stark contrast to her surroundings, before settling in at her desk to study. She didn’t bother to get dressed for company, closing the curtains and staying in her pyjamas and night robe, a pale pink long sleeved button up shirt and long pants, silken and soft. Her nightrobe was white, made of the same flowing silken material and left loose around her. They had both been made by the silk that was harvested from the glow worms that were farmed in the carverns, an indulgent but comfortable material.

Quill in hand, she frowned at the book that lay beside her papers, not actually reading anything. Her thoughts were lost a thousand miles north in a place far more temperate than here. A place where they had color and sounds and strange customs. A place where she could laugh and smile and be considered close enough to be one of them. Where she wasn’t a childs height, clocks where the children didn’t tower over her! Putting down the quill, her hand strayed to the letter she had kept on her desk still unfolded, picking it up and reading it for the millionth time.

He still loves me.

The blonde smiled again to herself, fingertips brushing the words with a soft sigh. It had thrown her, the admissions in Naul’s letter. The green eyed galdor had been most sure since the events of the dinner, she had caused him to hate her. It was going to make for an awkward and uncomfortable marriage, but then her own parents had managed to make theirs work. She had just never wanted to be like Carmell, so bitter and hateful. But that didn’t matter anymore because he didn’t hate her. He loved her.

A soft knock at her front door drew the young woman from her musings, and her smile fell as she put the letter on the desk with a sigh.

Ey ayee zeeute taking visitors today, dy te laundry eyal zeeute yet required thank deuee.I am not taking visitors today, and the laundry is not yet required thank you. She called out in Gioran, vexed by the interruption. The curtains were drawn, it was obvious she didn’t want company. Had the people lost their manners during her time in Anaxas? Shaking her head, Athrym began to reach for her quill, when the knock came again, this time louder. Huffing, she stood up and swept from the desk, stalking barefoot across the wide circular room towards the doorway. Something about the field that began to brush her own was familiar, and her frown deepened in curiosity. It was only for a moment though, as it began to fade. She picked up her feet and grasped the door handle, pulling it open.

“Who are—” The Gioran’s words froze in her throat, her green eyes widening as she saw the retreating flash of red hair and warm colored clothing. It was impossible to mistake the figure, and dressed inappropriately for public eyes, Athrym ran down the steps towards the figure, loose long hair trailing behind her with the plume of her robe.

“Wait stop!” She cried out suddenly, hoping he would turn around, afraid that she was assuming things. It looked like him, it felt like him, could it really be him?

“Professor?” The young woman asked, pausing in the street, her feet chilled by the stone beneath and breathing heavy. If the giants that walked past them were surprised by the vision, they kept their chins high and eyes averted in a display of emotionless stoicism. One does not react to the emotions of those around them, especially in Upperton.

word count: 1742
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Nauleth Siordanti
Posts: 114
Joined: Sun Apr 01, 2018 12:19 am
Topics: 15
Location: Qiereth, Gior
Race: Galdor
: Magus in the Making
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Writer: Muse
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Sat Jan 12, 2019 9:50 pm

39th of Achtus, 2718
UPPERTON | Early MORNING
He shouldn't have bothered. He shouldn't have come. Obviously, she wasn't even home and was probably busy already doing whatever she was responsible for now that she was here or—worse yet—she was somewhere with her parents—was that a voice? Was she home and just not answering the door? Did she feel his field and already decide she would deny him? Oh, gods. It was better to just leave. And quickly.

Naul picked up his pace, rushing down the steps, blushing furiously at the very idea of coming here, the tickle of cool sweat against the freckled small of his back reminding him that he'd just walked through far too much of Qrieth without paying enough attention to the beautiful temple city because his mind had been far too occupied by what he was going to say to—

Good Lady!

The door opened and his gold-rimmed gaze slipped from his goal—the gate—to the garden, slowing his feet but not quite stopping, heat surging up his spine to gnaw at the base of his skull and his body tensing into a cringe as Athrym's voice rang out, calling him to stop. He froze like a hingle, hands curling into his coat pockets and eyes fluttering closed for a moment as if he needed to make a choice. As if he was going to choose anything else, of course.

Had he really come all this way to flee? Tocks, no, but—

The eldest Siordanti turned around and his eyes widened, jaw dropping a little because the petite blonde wasn't questioning his presence dressed and ready for her day but in a house robe, her long, lovely, distracting hair flowing about her person like runoff from a spell made visible, tangible. He could have just whispered enough Monite to shift the wind and—oh. Had he missed her or was he suddenly insane? Was this nerves? He was instantly aware that this was all in public view of the neighbors. Of the passers-by on the street. Of the gods only knew who else besides themselves. He wasn't just another Gioran but an obvious Anaxi, red-haired and now so red-faced he could have been a vegetable imported over the snowy, windswept peaks from the Kingdom of Mugroba itself. Everyone would know who he was soon enough, and there was nothing he could do about it but just move forward,

"Ye—hello. Yes. It's I, though I'm hardly a Professor in this moment—anymore? maybe? sort of—I—I'm—uh—I was just—I thought I should—but then—begads."

If Nauleth had thought that he'd felt even an iota of embarrassment all those weeks ago in the Banquet Hall, it paled in comparison to this moment, a moment he was just as equally unprepared for as he'd been the first time she'd caught him off guard. As his heart seared the back of his throat in its attempt to crawl out of his chest, he did his best not to trip over himself to step forward, hands awkwardly waving and lopsided expression one of uninhibited half-amusement and half-horror all at the same time, humor and confusion weighing the timbre of his voice as it wavered nervously, "I'm very sorry I didn't announce my arrival more formally so that you'd, uh, be, well, prepared for my visitation. I thought maybe I could—well—I thought I could surprise you, which clearly I did—and—inside please—can we—could you—would you like to invite me inside or are we going to continue this greeting in the garden while everyone stares at you from over their breakfast? Hmm? I'd love to step inside. Please? Yes. Thank you."

He really just could not blush any more, freckles completely drowned. He was flustered and speaking quickly, stumbling over his own tongue, though his momentary hesitance to reach for her would have been obvious, it was fleeting and swept away by the strange mixture of both elation and shock, everything he'd so confidently rehearsed in his mind that he had to say about anything that had happened between them or passed in the silence completely skittering into the darker, less excitable recesses of his too-busy mind. Instead, not at all ignorant of Gioran social expectations and yet completely unconcerned as a foreigner, his nervous, embarrassed hands reached for hers, desperately grasping for her and curling fingers tightly with her own to lead them back up to the door and hopefully through it.

If he had to shut the door with his foot or his hip or spare a hand reluctantly, he would. Probably harder than necessary, eager to just be away from the paranoid sensation of making another clocking public mess of himself. The very flighty Siordanti would do anything to shut away his (very attractive but very underdressed) fiancé (who he'd very much missed) from the stoic-faced judgmental gazes of her people, her neighbors ... and his judges.

Catching his breath, Naul could only stand still for several rapid heartbeats, field as scattered a mess as his thoughts, hands so unapologetically entangled with her own,

"Aghala eate deuee, Athrym.It's good to see you again, Athrym. " He exhaled slowly in her own language, a cautious smile beginning to very hesitantly creep its way across his flushed features, one side before the other. He blinked, unable to even let his attention leave the striking, no less flustered young woman whose home in the land of her birth so far from his own he'd practically just thrown himself into in desperation and surprise to actually glance at any of the interior. His sea glass-colored gaze lingered on her face while he whispered breathlessly. It was as if he worried that speaking at full volume would break the illusion, shoulders tight, "I've made it to Qrieth, and I apologize for not sending word to you a day ago? Two days ago? What day is it today? I don't even know right now. I just assumed it was easier if—I just figured you wouldn't—I just—it's been busy and I'm really a terrified ersehole right now."

Did Gioran's shake hands to apologize? Did they bow? Did it matter?

There were so many things that Naul had planned to say, so many things he'd turned over and over again in his thoughts until the rough words had become like polished stone, ready for his tongue to make them into sounds. But all of it was gone! Every word refused to come to him as easily as they all had even mere moments ago while wandering up the street toward her home. All of them had felt like they had mattered, all of them had weighed him down.

But they didn't.

None of them did.

Useless words. Did the mona feel that way too, sometimes, when mortals like himself dared to bother communicating?

Tugging the pale, lovely woman toward him, he hugged her instead, quick and needful as if he worried she'd slip away or yell at him, as if he worried she'd shame him for such a show of emotion, as if he worried he was making the wrong move entirely but didn't care,

"Ey thought ey yaldaeuehardy seeueah daharah teeuoh talk. Zeuagh ayte ey'ee ayee daharah, ey realize te's nothing teeuoh talk ayebeeuehte ayete ay because ey'ee zeeute sure aghdayte ey seeuehardy even yalayede ayte agheuhardy sethear anything. Ey yalthady.I thought I should come here to talk. Now that I'm here, I realize there's nothing to talk about at all because I'm not sure what I could even say that would mean anything. I'm sorry." Naul wasn't even in a hurry to let her go, chagrined that he'd tried to run away at all, ".It was a clocking long, dangerous flight from Anaxas to say I'm sorry, too."
This isn't Brunnhold any more, ersehat, and you're not going home.
word count: 1415
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Athrym Bruthgrave
Posts: 84
Joined: Tue Apr 03, 2018 10:30 pm
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: Welcome to Brunnhold. Now go home.
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Sun Jan 13, 2019 7:00 am

39th of Achtus, 2718
UPPERTON | MORNING
It was him.

Athrym stared at him with her heart rattling in her chest, his eyes wide and face a color she hadn’t seen since mid Vortas. Gods, how she missed colors. Her ears barely registered the stammered words, keeping her eyes on his as the taller Anaxi approached with a waving of hands and an ever so curious expression on his face. His field matched his voice in its nervousness, and it took a second to pay attention to his words.

“Prepared? I…didn’t…what?” She glanced down between them with a frown, gasping and moving quickly to draw her robe around her and tie it closed.

“I—inside yes. Inside the house. My house. In. Go.” The young woman hissed as she snatched his hands in hers, following the red head inside as her summer gaze scanned the street with pink cheeks. No doubt Carmell would hear about this one, but right now the Gioran had no thoughts on how to avoid it. She had no thoughts about anything else except that Nauleth was here. Right here in Gior, in Qrieth, in her clocking front yard.

Once they were inside the warmer more private confines of her living area, the door slammed shut by the Anaxi, Athrym stood staring at the man. So many words she had planned on saying when they met again, unflustered and emotionally controlled, all of it was gone like chaff in the breeze. Her mouth felt like cotton and her pulse rushed in her ears. Their fields brushed against each other, reluctant to mingle after the aggressiveness in their last encounter, Living mona drawing back slightly from Physical.

He spoke then, breathing words in Gioran that sent a thrill up her spine and causing her to let her breath go that she’d not realised she was holding with a surprised sound. It wasn’t perfect, his pronunciation lacking accent and nuance, but it was close enough. Her face broke into a smile as she watched his own in the curious two-step movement that it did, realising painfully how much she had missed that. As Nauleth began to speak again, whispering as though he were afraid of what the neighbours might think, she felt a wash of relief sweep over her and with a gasp the stoic Ambassador burst into quiet tears as he tugged her firmly into an embrace.

Ey’ee yalthady. Ey’ee yalthady. Ey'ee yaleu, yaleu yalthady Nauleth.I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry Nauleth. She cried into his chest, uncaring that she was an absolutely imperfect mess, clinging to his waist and squeezing her eyes tightly shut. As the man spoke about the flight to Qrieth, the pale woman drew back with a small hitch of her breath and a lightly mottled face.

“You idiot. You shouldn’t have come, you silly wonderful foolish Anaxi.” The galdor whispered between small gasps and a trembling lip, smiling regardless of how she looked. Letting her hands shift from his waist to his cheeks without removing them from his person, Athrym held his face with a soft hiccup and a laugh.

“It’s dangerous to fly in winter, but you could have been caught in the mountain pass by the snow and ice. Why didn’t I ever tell you that. Why didn’t I—” Another sob tried to escape, and she pushed it back with a shake of her head and a trembling lower lip.

“You shouldn’t be sorry. I was so wrong Nauleth. Everything, I could have just kept my mouth shut. I could have told you more about Qrieth, prepared you for everything better. Instead I reacted as a Gioran, not as an Ambassador. Not as a friend or a lover, not as a fiancé. I was such a child, and was so lost. I believed I had turned you against me, and I couldn’t…I wouldn’t…I was…Eternal Child give me strength.” Laughing through her tearful apology, the blonde let her hands slip to his chest, letting her verdant gaze finally release his face to stare at them with a deep breath, forcefully stopping herself from raising on tiptoe to kiss the man. She wanted to, very badly she wanted to give him a kiss and make it all alright, but part of her hesitated. Afraid that it was much much to soon. The poor man hadn’t even had a chance to respond to her apology. Yes, he’d also said sorry. Yes he’d embraced her. It didn’t mean he was ready to return to kisses and admissions of love and the such.

Imaan save her, she was an absolute mess.

YaldyetShit. I should go get dressed. I was not expecting company, and it is…uh…welcome to my home. Sorry for the uh...I really should not be in my nightwear at this hour but...I...I have coffee. Do you want coffee? I can make you coffee.” She said awkwardly, stepping back a little to dry her cheeks and gesturing at the kitchen, before tucking her hair behind her ears and crossing her arms before her to stop herself from wrapping them around the Professor again. Brow creasing with the effort to stop her tearful outburst, Athrym cleared her throat.

“Did you say you had brought your brother with you? Nor..Norwyn? How uh. How is he finding Qrieth? Have you been set up alright?” It was small talk, a distraction to bring some sense of propriety to the situation, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment at her reaction to his appearance and green eyes darting from his face to the space on the polished floor before his feet.

“Are you well? You look well.” The younger woman said after a moment of silence with her field caressing his with a tentatively welcoming touch, afraid to move any further away lest he become a figment of her imagination, afraid to return to him lest he push her away for acting a fool.

Breathe Athrym.

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Nauleth Siordanti
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: Magus in the Making
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Mon Jan 14, 2019 12:00 am

39th of Achtus, 2718
UPPERTON | Early MORNING
Too familiar and too aware, Nauleth couldn't help the hint of a smile at her surprise realization, chewing the inside of his cheek to hold back a totally untimely sort of chuckle, allowing himself to be welcomed and shooed inside the petite Gioran's home without a second word on the matter. He fumbled to close the door a bit too loudly than was polite, and it felt as though he'd left his grey matter on the steps out in the still air of a neighborhood carved out of the very insides of a mountain.

The Anaxi felt tall again for this moment in the foyer of his fiancé—did she live alone? surely she must to be so not dressed? right?—instead of diminutive next to so many pale giants. He hadn't really expected Athrym to cry. He'd expected anger, surprise, awkwardness, but there was a resistance in their fields like like magnets forcibly pressed together even though her body was welcome and warm against his as her arms wrapped so tightly around his person that his eyes fluttered shut and he sighed. He didn't deserve her tears and the way her sobs shattered the otherwise statuesque illusion of all his senses had been filled with since arriving in Gior just a day and a half ago,

"We left before the worst of the weather—Alioe knows the trouble it took to get Nor and myself here, I wasn't going to clocking back down over a bit of wind and snow. I had faith the Circle knew what they were doing to get us to Qrieth safe and sound. Besides, all things work as they should, Athrym, and I for one am glad that didn't include some icy cliff face miles from anywhere."

Nauleth wanted to rest his check against the pale cascade of her hair and say more but the young woman pulled back. The way in which Athrym tearfully chided him brought color once again to his freckled cheeks, deepening the flush that refused to leave his expression, creasing the hint of a smile when she called him foolish. Her hands trailed downward to his chest where surely she could feel the wild thrum of his heart beneath her fingertips, and the weight of her palms warmed him in a way that was almost immediately distracting, though he managed to listen above the hum of his pulse,

"I over-reacted. I was very stressed, stretched thin at the end of the school year between classes and my research and my dissertation and travel and everything else, and while my students left campus in Vortas still talking about that particular dinner, it wasn't the end of life on Vita as we know it. I just—I have fought so hard for everything and it's such a natural reaction for me." He frowned at his honesty, watching the way her warm green gaze strayed from his, imagining for a moment that they'd wandered the rest of his face or at least his lips. He imagined he felt a tension in Athrym's body pressed against his and he thought to move to meet her, but when she hovered as she was, he simply looked as though he was leaning closer for no reason.

She escaped him, stepping back again and chagrin tickled the inside of his chest and stung his nerve endings, aware that he shouldn't expect such wonton forwardness—despite decisiveness being a respectable Gioran trait. He laughed—a quick, sudden sound—not at her awkwardness but his own, unable to keep his gold-rimmed eyes from drifting over the delicate, pale creature in a robe and nightclothes, not ignorant of all that was just just out of view, the unexpected weight of desire settling at the base of his spine. He shouldn't have wanted such things, the wild thoughts that whispered suggestively instead of the wise words he should have been replying with, but at the same time, why not? What did they really have to say that would have mattered more than not speaking at all?

"Zeu—uh—zeu coffee kdeuee.No—No coffee, thank you." The tall red head shook his head for emphasis to his quiet declining of coffee, reaching up to unravel himself from his scarf and begin to unbutton his coat, warm now, "And please don't get dressed for my sake. I'd rather you not."

He paused, aware of the impropriety of his words, of the tone of his voice as he stepped toward the pale, lovely Gioran. Nauleth was suddenly so very aware of what he was doing, searching her face while she asked very blatantly conversational questions and he reached up to untangle himself from his scarf, "We've only been here less than a day, and while I wandered so much of the city at such a clocking ungodly hour this morning, we're actually just a few streets over. I know. I'm a little travel-worn. The ersehats at the Post pretended not to understand my Gioran and gave me quite the run-around when all I wanted was to see you sooner—I should have—Qrieth is a blur but it's just as beautiful as you described it to me. More, maybe? More than I expected, I think. Yes."

The young Siordanti reached up to brush Athrym's face with his hand in a gentle hesitance while he rambled, field welcoming hers, mingling with a tangible welcome and a very warm sort of wanting. His thumb brushed tears from her cheek and while he didn't cry or sob, his sinuses stung with the kind of emotion he withheld from pooling in his eyes.

Finally, then, Nauleth grinned, inviting and genuine, chagrined and timid. He could have admitted that he was nervous to be so much on his own here, that he already felt guilty for dragging Norwyn so far from home for adventures he knew would be dangerous, that he had no idea how to cook his own meals or tie a proper cravat, that he had no interest in defending himself from Gioran judgments. He could have admitted all of the stonework was amazing but he already missed the sun. Instead, he just brought himself closer still, ignoring all the things he should have said to attempt to make sense of everything that had passed between them because all of it felt lacking in substance after just the right amount of time.

They had argued. It had hurt, deeply and personally, and they were, on both accounts, in apologies. Words were perhaps not the best method of communication for anything more.

Not yet.

He'd already proven how well he could muck those up almost two months ago. He didn't need to get in over his head with more attempts to make up for either of their verbal mistakes with more wounding words.

She was flustered, keeping herself back from expressing all of herself, too, skittish as though afraid she would offend him now that they were both so aware of how they could be offensive to each other in unimaginable and unexpected ways. They'd set that precedent together and it stung to feel the reminder, to see her shy away from the affection they'd once shared out of fear. He knew this feeling already and he loathed it: the sharp edge of anticipating rejection. He'd felt it for so much of his life that he couldn't stand to perpetuate it within their relationship any longer than he had already, having agonized in some Ever of not knowing for far too many weeks already.

"Athrym—" Naul's other hand curled fingers with a sudden conviction into the smooth silk of the petite Gioran's robe, palm that was still against her cheek sliding into her hair so he could tilt her head and lean in further still to kiss her.

It was not a demanding press of lips but a firm one—a declaration of his feelings as much as it was an apology for hurting hers. He remembered somewhere in the middle of tasting her warm, familiar mouth all that he'd wanted to say, all that had filled him with the bravado to come here so godsbedamned early in the first place. He'd wanted to assure her, he supposed, and he'd wanted to be forward—as Gioran as possible, one could say—about how much he indeed still cared.

The tall ginger was not in a hurry to lean away, either, expressing his regrets without saying anything. Inhaling sharply as he lingered, Nauleth pulled away only if Athrym stopped him or when he realized he'd been distracted for a few heartbeats too many,

"—I'm well now because we are in the same Kingdom, even if we don't share the same views. I missed you."
This isn't Brunnhold any more, ersehat, and you're not going home.
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Athrym Bruthgrave
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Mon Jan 14, 2019 5:37 am

39th of Achtus, 2718
UPPERTON | MORNING
Unable to help herself, the blonde choked a small short laugh at his joke about the weather, knowing full well the true and factual danger the two Anaxi brothers had nearly put themselves in. It wasn’t uncommon to come down out of the mountain after winter to find a body frozen solid in the pass. Too far away to make it to Qrieth in time, and ill prepared for the sudden snap that could happen, not everyone made it back to the temple city. Most times they were the bodies of priests in their exile, too afraid to leave the safety of home but unwelcome back inside. It was harsh, but a normality in Gior.

She nodded at his apology, smiling a little as his heart thrummed under her hands. He had been afraid of loosing face, of loosing everything he’d worked hard to build. Athrym could appreciate that, she had clawed her way from the dirt with her people to gain the respect of the Da Huane’s through her magic and her studies. Well, she thought she had, and for now the Ambassador clung to that.

The Gioran missed his lean, too concerned with keeping herself together, awkwardly offering a hot beverage as she stood barefoot on the furred floor coverings. As Nauleth declined the coffee, Athrym nodded looking at her feet with pursed lips, frozen for a moment at his next words. Her green eyes dragged to his face slowly, cheeks a touch pinker than before, even as she still held her arms crossed and found small talk for them to fill the air with. Her gaze followed his movements as the Anaxi unwound his scarf and unbuttoned his cloak, swallowing her sudden unwarranted nervousness. It was surely, her own desperate imagination make more than what there really was there in his words, right? As the red haired man came closer the shorter woman scoffed.

“Your Gioran is excellent, don’t take it personally. It will take time for the people to accept a foreigner in their midst. Unless the Deep pays off, then you’ll—uh—you’ll be…” The younger blonde held herself still as Nauleth came closer still, his thumb sweeping across the embarrassing dampness on her cheek, field gently enfolding hers with the welcomed acceptance they had lost so many weeks prior. Turning her face up to look at him, Athrym searched his sea-glass eyes with a needful ache, to see her own feelings echoed there within. He grinned, and the galdor couldn’t stop herself chuckling softly in return, like a fifth form about to receive her first kiss. It was hard not to feel worry and nervousness, terrified of saying something wrong or taking a misstep. She had hurt him, and she had been hurt in return. It was easy to do, and her temper was not entirely always her best controlled feature, so naturally the blonde was hesitant. It was still so fresh and raw on her heart, the love and the fighting and harsh words. It was something she hadn’t experienced before, and was loathe to experience again.

His voice spoke her name, and perhaps there’d been more they should be saying, but the professors hand grasped at her robe and the other slipped through the soft platinum locks of her hair to bring her face to his. Athrym didn’t shy away from his lips, raising slightly and letting her eyes slip shut as the tall Anaxi kissed her. The Gioran’s heart all but stammered in her chest as it raced wildly, her hands slipping from their defensive place across her chest to reach for his coat, holding onto the edges tightly as though if she were to let go he would run away. Her field embraced his, entangling in intricate ways only the mona seemed to truly understand, sharing their feelings with an intimacy only magic users could appreciate. The pale diplomat let the kiss speak for the both of them, leaning in as he started to draw back so she could let it last just a fraction of a second longer, before letting it end with an almost lightheaded sensation. Opening her eyes, the galdor looked at her betrothed as he finished his sentence, unwilling to look away from the gold rimmed iris’ that held hers.

“I missed you too.” She managed to find the breath to say softly, suddenly very aware of the fact that they were both okay with this. That whatever hurtful awkwardness had been put between them had been washed away with the permission of their lips. As though something had flicked a switch in her, Athrym tugged Nauleth back for another kiss, much more eager and needful than his own. Hungry to close the distance between them, as though being apart for so long had been physically painful, her ivory skinned hands slipped up under the shoulders of his cloak to push it off his arms and help the man to abandon it to the floor. Grabbing his scarf, the Gioran dragged it from his neck to throw it aside, reaching for buttons with desperate fingertips. Her hands smoothed up over his chest, wrapping behind his neck and tangling in his auburn locks, stumbling back till she bumped into the edge of the kitchen counter. The slight bump of the stone seemed to jar the woman back to reality, and she paused with a grin, breaking away from his lips with a laugh and meeting his gaze with an amused look, dimples cutting deeply into flushed cheeks.

“I’m so happy you’re here, Professor.” The young woman breathed the word whether it was still appropriate or not, one hand resting on the nape of his neck whilst the other ran over freckled skin even as her mouth move to tease at his again, the tip of her tongue tickling across the curve of his lower lips.

“Gior lacks your brilliance, and your wonderfully challenging ideas. I’ve missed all of you, every part.” She murmured against his mouth, even as her hand moved lower to the buckle of his pants. There was no hesitance from the platinum haired Gioran, urgently wanting to be closer to him, to push the distance between them far, far away.

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Nauleth Siordanti
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: Magus in the Making
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Mon Jan 14, 2019 3:22 pm

39th of Achtus, 2718
UPPERTON | Early MORNING
Nauleth was not ignorant of the prudish expectations of his homeland, for it was well known that social expectation in Anaxas was for those coming to the union to be pure, for the two to have never indulged in physical curiosities with each other or with strangers. It was just a sign of a lack of self-control, desires that were, as far as the academically-minded redhead was concerned, unavoidable and necessary to explore in order to truly determine a compatible match. He had little guilt about all he'd already shared with the Gioran Ambassador, aware that this Kingdom understood that such expectations were antiquated and nearly entirely unnecessary for proper society. While there was plenty he'd already expressed he didn't agree with about Gioran social convention, there was enough that he could certainly get on with.

Athrym's wordless understanding of his forwardness was all that he'd hoped for, honestly, and there was a wash of warmth that lightened the mingling of their fields with such a mutual recognition of need. He had more to say and Naul was quite sure the petite blonde had more on her mind to put into words, but the base need for connection was very tangible between them, so much so that he couldn't help but smile against her lips as she pulled him back again. The desire for intimacy wasn't just him being selfish, wasn't just him being stupid, and he hummed his approval of her hands moving, eager to divest him of the layers he'd put on to keep out the mountain chill.

Shrugging off his coat at her direction, uncaring where it fell, he tilted his head when she impatiently tugged at his scarf to take just a quick breath and look around unfamiliar surroundings, chagrined to realize he had no idea where to take this singular moment in a house that was not his own. He thought to apologize for the layers of warmth he'd worn: two shirts and a vest, two shirts too many that he smirked at her lopsidedly to assist with, just as eager for her touch as she was to touch him.

There was a hard stop to their meandering in what might have been the kitchen given the looks of things carved out of stone, but the tall ginger was hardly paying any attention, his clothing wherever her pale, delicate hands deigned to leave each piece on the floor. Athrym taunted him with his title in that tone of voice and he felt the familiar weakness in his knees, that thrill of arousal churning through his veins faster with the brush of her tongue against his lips. He returned the depth of her kisses, reaching with no less eagerness to remove her robe without looking, though he took much more time in doing so. He let his hands wander over the fabric of her nightclothes she still wore before he moved to buttons, not pausing even though her fingers curled into the buckle of his belt and heat crawled down his spine in anticipation, whispering eagerly as he slipped beneath fabric to let his palms explore pale, beautiful skin,

"Batyhur creature, ey'ee zeeute daharah because anywhere eyzee gior lacked eede presence, behte because deuee dyeydy.Beautiful creature, I'm not here because anywhere in Gior lacked my presence, but because you did."

Hands dragging downward to her waist, just as ready to divest her petite form of the rest of her clothing. No matter who moved first to do so, he held her verdant gaze for a moment in breathless mischief, "Aghah seem teeuoh agree euze aghala teeuoh settle ay disagreement, lover. Eyehu nothing else.We seem to agree on how to settle a disagreement, lover. If nothing else."

If he could get them both out of the rest of their clothing without entirely being derailed by Athrym's intentions, he'd boldly lift the delicate creature onto her own counter without a care in all of Vita for such blatant impropriety, taking advantage of their more leveled heights to kiss her, a needfulness consuming his interest in reason or conversation. It was bold, indulging in such sensual delights out of the privacy of anyone's bedroom, but this was not Anaxas and Nauleth was more than content to pick up on the cultural queues that weren't at all as insane as the passive conversation that had driven such a divide between them simply to entangle them back together again.

It was with only a hint of reluctance that he drifted from her lips, breathing words of Monite over the exquisitely landscape of her body as he moved from her neck to her sternum, his quick and admittedly naughty use of a spell to heighten her sensation ending over her heart, grinning up at her with his hands on her knees. The warm tingle of shifting fields, of the mona leaving the sharp flavor of cinnamon in his sinuses only emboldened him further, teasing first over delicious curves, not in a hurry just bring their bodies together in apology when he could savor what he'd missed.
This isn't Brunnhold any more, ersehat, and you're not going home.
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Athrym Bruthgrave
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Tue Jan 15, 2019 8:12 am

​​​​
​​39th of Achtus, 2718
​​UPPERTON | MORNING

​​
The younger woman giggled again as Naul smirked a lopsided apology at the layers he had worn under his cloak. It was excessive, but understandable for one not accustomed to the constant chill under the mountain. She welcomed his assistance, as the moved together across the room, till the kitchen interrupted them.
​​
​​Letting her words disappear in the depth of his echoed kisses, the blonde Gioran drew her arms from the robe as it was removed in a more sedate motion, as though silently asking her to slow down. To savour what they had missed. They didn’t need to rush, they had time and a chance to forgive in mind and body. The fine material almost melted to the polished stone floor, and her other hand moved to join the first as the Anaxi worked on the buttons of her top. Her lashes fluttered shut as the brush of chilled hands across alibaster skin accompanied the whisper of words in her native tongue. Something about her own language spoken from the taller man’s lips was intoxicating, it warmed her from within and gave her heart a flutter. In some way, it felt like a display of his feelings for her. Tugging at the buckle, Athrym loosened his fastenings as she opened her eyes again to meet his seaglass gaze with a wicked smirk.
​​
​​Eyal te de eu way?Is there any other way? She asked with an arched brow as they both moved to remove the clothing that hid the last of their modesty, gasping at the cold stone under her naked thighs as Naul moved her to sit on the countertop suddenly. Lowering her mouth to his, delighted by her new vantage point, the young Ambassador’s giggle was stolen away by his eager return to her lips. Her hands reached for his face, holding him captive between those and her parted knees, before they slipped to rest on the bench and her summer eyes closed. Tilting her head slightly to allow the brush of his lips against her neck, the Gioran sensed a shift in his field, feeling the breathed Monite on her skin more than she heard it. She gasped supressing a shiver as the clever Professor cast a quick Perceptive spell on her, leaning into his touch with a sigh. Dragging her hands from the benchtop, Athrym teased her fingertips across firm excitement, humming soft sounds of enjoyment as the red head’s touch fired nerve endings with an extra level of intensity. Even without the spell, her body had missed him enough that each touch was a bolt of pleasurable electricity.
​​
​​ “It’s upstairs.” She muttered suddenly between lingering kisses and breathless moans, pressing her lips to his jaw and shoulder as her brow furrowed. Pausing there, hands still from their ministrations for a moment, the petite blonde caught a few precious breaths.
​​
​​ “Bedroom. It’s upstairs. A lot of stairs.” Athrym stammered as she lifted her head, arching into his palm slightly and uttering words that couldn’t be distinguished between nonsense or a Gioran plea to the Gods. Forcing her eyes open, field so readily welcoming now, the diplomat glanced between them with a shuddering breath.
​​
​​ “Too many stairs.” She managed, stroking the warmth between them with a lazy movement, skin to heated now to notice whether it was actually cold without her clothing or not.
​​
​​ “Nauleth I—“ The unclothed woman said before a sharp inhale of air interrupted her thoughts, her ability to speak momentarily lost as she tripped through hightened senses without abandon.

“—Gods, I was such a fool to run away.” She breathed, toes curling where they hung in mid air around his legs.
​​
​​

​​
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Nauleth Siordanti
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: Magus in the Making
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Tue Jan 15, 2019 8:46 pm

39th of Achtus, 2718
UPPERTON | Early MORNING
The only other way Nauleth knew to settle—really settle—an argument was through a duel, and although the redhead had learned to pursue dueling at a more professionally competitive level than just as a student, he'd also learned the very real lesson that settling arguments through dueling was a rather dangerous method when improperly wielded. Intellectual disagreements were often simply put to rest through evidence, undeniable measurements, and while the Anaxi professor had some definite empirical commentary to make on the passive situation in Gior, now was not the clocking time to bother reopening such a debate.

Not the time at all.

He grinned against Athrym's lips instead, her hands cold as they held his flushed face, "Even if there is, I don't clocking care." Naul offered with a coy growl before he gathered the Perceptive mona in his field and breathed his spell against alabaster flesh, dragging kisses along a delicate clavicle with appreciative gentleness. Her chilled fingers reached for him and he hissed in distracted surprise, teeth against skin. He leaned into her touch with an unapologetic gratitude, firm warmth coming into hard focus against her palm with a whimper. His own hands wandering, the young Siordanti heard her words above the rush of his pulse, their eager excitement like static tingling through every last inch of his circulatory system,

"Too far? Here is sufficient." He chuckled, leaning lower to plant a purposeful kiss between her breasts, glancing up at her as he slipped away from the enticing motions of her hand with a heavy fluttering of his ginger-lashed eyelids, somewhat reluctant, "A worthy experiment, I'm sure."

He had the cheek to grin, tilting his head to tease his tongue over the sensitive peak of one pale breast and then the other, lingering because he was quite aware of the clever way he'd used magic to heighten every sensation. Naul's hands moved with a determined firmness over the petite Gioran's familiar form to rest once again on her knees, inhaling slowly and letting the heat of their aroused and passionate need for reconnection fill his lungs like summer air and sunshine this far away from both. His lips traveled lower, the height of the kitchen counter not entirely inconvenient for activities other than cooking,

"I don't begrudge your need to come home, to seek perspective. Perhaps we haven't explored all the boundaries of our relationship or of our differences," the tall redhead whispered his thoughts like he'd whispered his spell, warm breath against cool, pale skin, pausing to look up as he dipped between her knees, balancing himself carefully with one hand shifting to grip the counter, "but I don't believe those differences are enough to declare us an unsuitable match. We'll just have to be as willing to meet in the middle with our minds as we are with our bodies, patiently and over time."

His lopsided smirk was so very amused and so very wicked in all the right ways, humming a chuckle against her inner thigh, gold-rimmed gaze leaving her face to meander downward over the petite but glorious young woman full of magical hunger and physical desire, curious and studious, aroused and all but literally buzzing with anticipation. Nauleth intended to take full advantage of the extravagant sensations he'd granted her for a few more precious moments, kisses drifting inward because he knew where he was going, blazing a trail with his tongue to both quell his rambling words and explore Athrym's pleasure with an indulgent lack of shame.
This isn't Brunnhold any more, ersehat, and you're not going home.
word count: 663
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Athrym Bruthgrave
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Thu Jan 17, 2019 3:57 am

​​​​
​​39th of Achtus, 2718
​​UPPERTON | MORNING

​​
Making a sound of disappointment as the taller galdor withdrew from her touch, Athrym pouted, pale lower lip sticking out slightly as she playfully expressed her woe at the loss, hands moving to rest on the cool stone bench. It was short lived however, as the Anaxi teased his tongue across magically enhanced skin, a gasp and a small jump of surprise eliciting from the young woman before she let her summer eyes close with a shiver of goosebumps across her skin.

“Given—given your experiments are always so—oh tocks—so good, I’d agree it’s worthy—by the Eternal—yes worthy!” The Gioran stammered between gasps and breathless exclamations as the smallest shifts gave overwhelming sensation. It was like being stung, but by glorious pleasure, almost too much but also enough to want more. To crave deliriously what it felt like in more intimate—

Oh.

The blonde opened her eyes, looking down with a heavily lidded gaze and flushed features, breathing shallow and field thrumming in wicked anticipation. As lips and hands brushed the soft curves of her thighs, the Ambassador held a shiver in check, smiling a dimpled smile when the red head looked up at her.

“As you said in your letter, if we agreed on the same things, how boring would life be. Though, perhaps, there is a middle ground to be found. Healthy dicussion around all things…unmatched.” Athrym said with a quirk of her brow, drawing her smiling lip between her teeth slightly as the Anaxi’s chuckle seared her skin. There was no coy shyness in her face as the taller red haired man let his gaze consume the exposed expanse of her person, merely the wanton anticipation of what was to come. Their parting in Dentis had been swift and unkind, but the blonde hadn’t sought comfort in the body of another, she hadn’t truly thought of intimacy at all with the hurt and guilt gnawing incessantly at her heart.

She’d dreamed of Nauleth, of course. Of returning to his doorstep and begging forgiveness, or he on hers. Her dreams had been bittersweet, and passionate, but never had she actually expected the man would come to Gior on his own. Not after her humiliations.

A sudden surge of emotion welled in the young woman, a powerful sense of joy and love, running unacceptably rampant through her aura. Any Gioran would shame her for being so ruled by those intangible illogical feelings, but the Siordanti was no Gioran. He wore her temper, her brashness and her hurt in his stride, and showed her how to accept those feelings. They happened, they existed, and they didn’t make her weak. They made her stronger, they made them stronger.

In a bright moment of clarity, Athrym took a breath, her smile wider and eyes widening in preparation to tell the Anaxi she understood. She got it. But then the intoxicating Professor’s kisses drifted upwards and her breath turned into a gasp as he silenced any further thoughtful conversation with the warmth of his tongue. The Gioran Ambassador’s head dropped back with a ragged sound, long platinum locks cascading down her back as her alabaster legs lifted and curled to rest on his shoulder blades. Her verdant eyes rolled shut as the agonising pleasure burned from her core, one hand holding her balanced on the stone bench top, the other threading through the auburn locks between her thighs. She couldn’t stay still, breathing heavily and shuddering with each tantalising movement, toes curled against the freckled tan of his skin.

Everything felt heightened, excessive and incredible. The slick, sweeping sensations that the intellectual red head would easily guess brought her towards her ultimate end were supercharged by magic and their time apart. All her being, her entire field, was focused on the unspoken apologies begged from their bodies. Her heart raced in her chest, pulse thrumming in her exposed throat as the pale creature whimpered with building tension.

It was still early, and there was nothing but a leather curtain to stop any sounds escaping her living room window, but the blonde could hardly stop the desperate moans that fell from her lips as the spell pushed her senses beyond all sanity. Her cries climbed in octaves as the Anaxi tortured her so wickedly, legs shifting restlessly against his back and body writhing as though to get away from him and also come closer. Delicate fingers tightened in his hair as her head dropped forward again, hair falling gently across one side of her face and lips parted as the young woman gasped for breath.

Dyu'te yalteeuve areu, dyu'te yalteeuve…Don’t stop love, don’t stop…" Athrym pleaded rapidly, over and over in a high breathy whisper, field tensing with her muscles as the powerful sensations overcame her. She bit down hard on her lower lip, humming a muffled cry of ecstatic delight as Nauleth pushed her boldly over the edge, so eagerly unaware of how much she had missed this.

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