crimsonpaved

[crimsonpaved]

June Activity

Skill Changes:

Reason C -> C 1/2

Points Gained:

1 monthly

Threads dropped: None

Classes Mastered: Monk, Magic+ gained.

[crimsonpaved]

[ sit ] and [bandage ]

She doesn't ask. Not because she doesn't care or that she isn't curious; tonight is simply not the right moment.

(she will tell herself that many more times if allowed

even in moments like these, mind insisting on not weighting down their scarce moments with one another.)

His injuries are relatively superficial to what she's dealt with before.

A split lip, cut on his cheek, and a gash running down his right arm

(too deliberate to ever be simply an incident with some sharp object.)

Come tomorrow they will have to leave separately, the small cabin being outside the main city, hopefully distant enough they can return with different routes without being suspicious.

They only have tonight.

Simply being close won't cut it.

(not when she could lose him without knowing.)

Physical contact makes healing magic more potent.

(doesn't it?)

And the desire to bring him relief quickly does play a role.

But she doesn't just hold his hand.

She intertwines their fingers, feeling the injury mend under her touch.

She doesn't simply sit close; instead, she pushes him a bit further onto the bed, her legs curled on it and slightly spread open as she sits down with his thigh between them.

She pecks him on the cheek gently, the slight discolor of his skin fading away.

But she's oh so horrible at hiding the anxiety and the desperation as they kiss.

She forgets everything but him—the drumming heartbeat, the warm skin, the hopes and fears every fleeting touch hides.

They part suddenly in her eyes as she's reminded what breathing is.

Her gaze turns downwards, eyes glazed over but tears refusing to be shed.

She says quietly.

"Please take care of yourself."

[ Non-verbal memes ] // Accepting //

HE'S GOTTEN TOO CLOSE IN HIS HUNTS AGAIN, toyed with fate's edge too much to escape unscathed this time, and yet he looks all the more feral for it. Edelgard won't approve he suspects, and yet seeking out the notes on the experiments have long become a priority for his no matter the number of mercenaries they send after him. Hubert has never been in denial that he's playing with fire, nor does the prospect of injury faze him from his task when such lethal methods of retribution are hidden at his fingertips like a flame ready to be released, all consuming for whichever may stand in his way.

The retainer despises being seen like this, with the flickering faith fading into nothingness as he leans back against the headboard of the simple and nondescript bed. The Cabin officially belongs to some unknown viscount, a forged identity like the many he has worn as masks for the sake of the tasks that go unseen by daylight, yet for Hubert it remains a place of solace and sanctuary, somewhere to hide away while his body recovers from the latest duty he's content for people to think his lowly father has assigned to him.

"Hm?" He sounds more tired than usual, putting up no fuss as the bloodstained glove is removed from his arms, the pair is nondescript, more common among farmhands than nobility and yet it provides all the cover he needs, throws the hounds off his scent when he's seen without them. A guide, a ruse even as the woman continues to wordlessly bandage the latest in a long line of training accidents before he feels the warmth of lips against cold skin, pulling him back from his thoughts. 

The buck of his leg is subtle, likened to the roll of his hips to shift her more comfortably towards him, moving his good arm so that she can settle properly against his chest. Wiping the unshed tears are awkward with a pinned hand, and yet he does so wordlessly, content in removing the water droplets before a kiss is placed softly against her forehead, trailing along her skin like the embrace of phantasmal butterflies, calm and serene. 

"Shhhs, that can be discussed later, for now, it is best to take advantage of the time we have to relax in each other's embrace, my lady."

-> @tineoffreege

[crimsonpaved]

nonverbal  meme  prompts ↪  they  seem  few  &  far  between,  so  i  tried  to  come  up  with  as  many  scenarios  as  i  could  think  of  where  dialogue  wasn’t  a  necessary  starting  point.  some  are  more  uh  specific  than  others  /  drabble-y,  but  they’re  all  dialogue-free  (  tho  ofc  this  does  not  necessarily  extend  to  the  response  itself  ).  to  reverse  who  sends  what,  send  ‘  [  prompt  ]+  ’  !  alter  any  as  you  see  fit,  &  lemme  know  if  anything’s  unclear  ♡

[  pull  ]  sender  pulls  receiver  closer  to  them

[  touch  ]  sender  places  their  hand  affectionately  on  receiver

[  guide  ]  sender  helps  receiver  through  a  difficult  video  game

[  lean  ]  sender  leans  on  receiver

[  pierce  ]  sender  helps  receiver  with  a  new  piercing  (  doing,  aftercare,  etc  )

[  sit  ]  sender  sits  in  receiver’s  lap

[  spar  ]  sender  pins  receiver  down  in  a  practice  fight

[  cook  ]  sender  makes  food  for  receiver

[  slide  ]  sender  pushes  an  item  across  the  table  to  receiver

[  kiss  ]  sender  kisses  (  lips,  cheek,  forehead,  hand,  etc  )

[  lead  ]  sender  leads  receiver  someplace

[  wound  ]  sender  injures  muse  in  a  fight  (  practice  or  real  )

[  snap  ]  sender  takes  a  photo  of  receiver  (  candid  or  posed  )

[  drape  ]  sender  drapes  their  arm  around  receiver’s  shoulders

[  bullet  ]  sender  takes  a  bullet  for  receiver  (  literal  or  figurative  )

[  nap  ]  sender  falls  asleep  against  receiver

[  teeth  ]  sender  bears  teeth  at  receiver

[  trace  ]  sender  traces  one  of  receiver’s  scars

[  cocktail  ]  sender  makes  /  gives  receiver  a  cocktail

[  comfort  ]  sender  comforts  receiver  when  they  are  upset  /  crying

[  bouquet  ]  sender  surprises  receiver  with  a  bouquet

[  massage  ]  sender  gives  receiver  a  massage  (  planned,  spontaneous,  full  body,  shoulder,  etc  )

[  mentor  ]  sender  takes  muse  under  their  wing

[  tattoo  ]  sender  helps  receiver  with  a  new  tattoo  (  doing,  aftercare,  etc  )

[  dare  ]  receiver  acts  out  a  dare  from  sender

[  hug  ]  sender  pulls  receiver  into  a  hug

[  phone  ]  receiver  sees  sender  smiling  at  something  on  their  phone

[  popcorn  ]  sender  makes  popcorn  for  a  movie  night

[  wake  ]  sender  tries  to  wake  receiver

[  groom  ]  sender  tries  to  make  receiver  look  more  presentable

[  flower  ]  sender  places  a  flower  behind  receiver’s  ear

[  sad  ]  sender  looks  at  receiver  sorrowfully

[  playlist  ]  sender  curates  a  playlist

[  fashion  show  ]  sender  tries  to  help  receiver  choose  an  outfit

[  shield  ]  sender  steps  between  receiver  and  danger

[  bandage  ]  sender  helps  bandage  up  receiver’s  wounds

[  duel  ]  muses  get  into  a  fight

[  fear  ]  sender  finds  receiver  having  a  nightmare

[  hold  ]  sender  holds  receiver’s  hand

[  bruise  ]  sender  finds  receiver  with  a  bruise  /  tries  to  help  receiver  cover  up  a  bruise

[  brush  ]  sender  brushes  /  styles  /  dyes  receiver’s  hair

[  portrait  ]  receiver  paints  a  portrait  of  receiver

[  assist  ]  sender  helps  the  receiver  with  a  task  they’re  struggling  in

[  wow  ]  sender  does  something  to  really  amaze  receiver

[  glare  ]  sender  is  still  hurt  after  an  argument

[  roast  ]  muses  roast  marshmallows  together  /  make  s’mores

[  shoot  ]  muses  attend  a  game  of  paintball

[  diary  ]  receiver  writes  a  journal  entry  about  sender  (  maybe  they  find  it  ?  )

[  dance  ]  sender  whisks  receiver  onto  to  ‘  dance  floor  ’  (  can  be  actual  or  pretend  )

[  rest  ]  sender  rests  their  chin  on  receiver’s  head  /  shoulder

[  manicure  ]  sender  paints  receiver’s  nails

[  tuck  ]  sender  tucks  in  receiver’s  shirt,  hair  behind  ear,  etc

[  chin  ]  sender  lifts  receiver’s  chin  up

[  lap  ]  sender  puts  their  feet  in  receiver’s  lap

[  write  ]  receiver  writes  sender  a  note

[  play  ]  muses  play  a  board  game  /  card  game  together

[  glance  ]  receiver  catches  sender  looking  at  them

[  ill  ]  sender  takes  care  of  receiver  when  they  are  unwell

[  hearth  ]  sender  lights  a  fire

[  tap  ]  sender  taps  receiver  on  the  shoulder

[  bake  ]  muses  bake  together

[  read  ]  sender  reads  to  receiver

[  study  ]  sender  tries  to  help  receiver  study

[  push  ]  sender  pushes  receiver  in  anger

[  skill  ]  receiver  tries  to  assist  sender  in  learning  a  new  skill

[  coated  ]  receiver  finds  sender  covered  in  blood

[  gesture  ]  sender  motions  for  receiver  to  follow  them

[  downpour  ]  receiver  finds  sender  out  in  the  rain

[crimsonpaved]

WORKING IN UNISON WITH THE KNIGHTS IS NEVER A GOOD IDEA IN HIS EXPERIENCE, and yet this particular Knight has become a sort of confident since their meeting that night in the Viscount's personal library. Pearl Shoals has sparked suspicion amongst the monastery of late, and yet to Hubert, that suspicion was only second best to the number of spies he'd tried and failed to insert into the idyllic community. Yet... Niles had been almost invaluable in figuring a way to investigate it under the guise of searching for this supposed relic that was too valuable to be left untouched.

There is an understanding of sorts amongst their types, that places concealed harder than even a mage's study is a place better investigated, and so this plan had been born of the flames of war's lasting marks. A noble, a would be mage had found themselves short of staff, leaving openings for which they had miraculously become suitable for entering into employment, and a means of which to root out the secrets that linger beneath the soils. 

"Niles." A name in greeting, tying the hair behind his head in hopes of obscuring any of his many identifying features. They've gone over this plan again and again, debated the merits and faults of immersing themselves into the depths of the household until a plan had hatched by the candlelight. "It would seem the Master and Mistress of the house are... away for the month, and the servants have taken to running the household, this should provide... ample time to familiarise ourselves." A subtle smirk, even as the knife is tucked into the depths of his sleeves, the look in his eye is oh so telling for what he intended to do once they were inside.

"A pity, if only they had offered a map of the estate, we would not have gotten so... lost."

-> @nohrianoutlaw

murder on the dance floor... maybe

Pearlescent - Niles - Housecleaning [Any Skill +1]

[crimsonpaved]

HUBERT HAS NEVER BEEN THE TYPE TO FEEL OBLIGATED TO DESTROY BOOKS, yet the tome in circulation of late has him tempted, not only has it somehow become a cultural phenomenon, but the ideas inside are frankly obscenely stupid and liable to lead some of the more... Impressionable fools in possession of it to a quick death. Even now, he can feel yet another one of his rants coming on as he passes faculty dissecting the book like it has suddenly become some sacred text overnight as he moves towards the library. 

The retainer can only hope the madness hasn't managed to spread to the last of his sanctuaries, and yet that audacious yellow cover is staring him in the face as he enters, testing his resolve as the librarian, and their decorum, exits the room. He hates this, hates the curiosity as he stalks towards the table where a copy of the book lies absent, intent on writing such a scathing review that the author has little choice than to pull it from every store on the continent out of sheer embarrassment at being rebuked by a noble.

He's barely a page, a page in when the older faculty member is seated beside him, baring witness to the quill frantically scribbling down rebuke after rebuke until that line, that accursed, goddess forsaken line is front and centre. Hubert has bared witness to far too many would be knights try to invoke it today, carrying precious cheese wheels from the kitchen as if they were worth more than gold in trying to evoke this fake knight's idea of chivalry. It is only at that line, that insistence that to fascinate a lady a knight merely needs to offer cheese, that his hands are striking towards his waist in search of the tome that often hangs there. "My apologies, but this cannot be allowed to continue, the book and its nonsensical ideas are better destroyed!"

-> @livingrief

No More Cheese Wheels

Pearlescent - Finn - Knights and Chivalry [Lance +1]

[crimsonpaved]

SOME HAVE THE CHEEK TO CALL HIM PARANOID, and yet it would seem that the Bride and Groom have him beat in terms of this on the winter's day. The only detail of the task that had floated across his desk was that both feared someone would attempt to crash it... yet it also gave him an opportunity like none else, merely writing back to the concerned family that he would require two suitably blank invitations as a deposit for their services.

Forging the signature of the bride and groom is easier than he'd had expected, and yet the secrecy was a necessary part to ensure that the security they requested was deftly given. "Fionn" was a background he rarely used, the son of some minor house within a day's ride of Fhirdiad, and yet suiting his purpose perfectly as he strolls through the crowds. His tome would be far too obvious, instead Hubert opted for the dagger hidden in his sleeve, a path to the supposedly happy couple always lingering at the back of his mind.

The shout brings him from his thoughts easily, the voice unmistakable despite the difference in appearance to the woman he knows it to belong to. "Miss Liza!" A smile, genuine and sickly sweet, his gaze falling to the familiar ribbon they'd exchanged not long ago. There's been a trend of late amongst the commoners, to display their affections openly, and yet he found himself thankful to Fionn's faux standing as he shifts just enough to bring the intertwined fingers to his lips so scandalously, so freely, that there is little mistake in his gratefulness for her accompanying him. 

"The pleasure is mine, my lady." Truth intertwined with fiction, a paper trail out of Fhirdiad establishing that Fionn had been helplessly smitten with the woman from a foreign land, eagerly awaiting their reunion at his distant, third removed Cousin's wedding. "A shame we couldn't have come together, I would have enjoyed escorting you." Tempting words, emotions hidden in their depths as intertwined hands hang between them.

"It seems none of my dear cousin's reckless friends have decided to cause a ruckus... but enough about them, I believe she intends to throw the bouquet when the sun meets the horizon, believing whoever catches it to be the next to get married..."

Carve a path to happiness

sword + prompt .

[crimsonpaved]

PLOTTING CALL, BOARD: PEARLESCENT

Regarding Knights and Chivalry [Lance +1] - Having seemingly returned to his old self, Hubert has all but leapt at the opportunity to debase the obscure, outlandish and outright dangerous methods detailed within.

Clingy Lover - Hubert is annoyed, more than you've ever seen him, and for what and why? Can the two of them keep her from being a nuisance, will his temper get the better of him? Well...

-> Unaffil mission board:

Housecleaning- [Any Skill +1] // Requires unaffiliated muse. - Hubert grew up in Enbarr's high society, and believe him, the easiest way to get information out of any noble household is to befriend the servants. The way he acts gives the impression he's done something like this before, but that doesn't make sense, right? Right?? Who knows what secrets slip from loosened lips...

-> As is the norm, feel free to IM or Ping me and we'll work out the specifics of it all~

[crimsonpaved]

May Activity Check

STATUS: Passed!

Skill Points Acquired: 1 Stat Changes: Sword E+ -> Sword D

Class(es) Accessed (TBC): Myrmidion, Dancer Class Mastered: Monk

Completed Threads: 3 Threads:

Thread 1: Steady forward for there is so much to see - Mitama - [Verseandrhyme] // Word Count: 1123 Thread 2: Leave the Rain out - Tine - [Tineoffreege] // Word Count: 4,298 Thread 3: To behold the world's Beauty - Edelgard - [Hresvelged] // Word Count: 939

Items Claimed (TBC): Iron Sword Combat Art: Sunder Fairy Dust

[crimsonpaved]

THE MAGE FINDS THAT HARD TO BELIEVE, that the young man before him could be considered in any way standoffish, still he supposes it is often the most talkative that rise above the hardships to become the way they are. Yet, the information offered gave him a valuable insight to the mind of the younger leader, at least he suspects him of being a leader, one coming into their own or even already has. "Few can recognise their flaws so easily, to be able to do so is commendable." It is not his place to offer advice to anyone, and yet he cannot help the words that venture forth from him so easily. "Tell her, whoever she is, that you appreciate her for doing it, show it to her if needs be, I suspect the earnestness will be conveyed in the way you wish."

Leif feels, in a sense, to be a kindred spirit. Someone who feels the obligations of social norms despite wishing they could be cast aside like a cloak is cast onto a rack to dry after heavy rains, so Hubert does not judge for what may be perceived as a lack of decorum by the contingent of vultures that oft flock in search of power or money, instead calmly consuming the tea with a genuine pleasure for company that feels no true desire for the false niceties one must indulge in.

"Be careful not to let yourself be consumed by responsibility, so many have fallen prey to the weight on their shoulders merely because the goal in sight feels distant." His path... "To protect those I was unable to before, perhaps, but the academy is little more than a means to an end in that regard. A place to keep the temptations of a quick route to power in check, lest they become consuming like the simplest flames."

No... he cannot see Leif falling to that temptation, he has seen the strength of character before, the will to fact the depths of the unknown with little but the promises of a cat to show for reasoning. Perhaps, just perhaps, the words he offers are a warning to himself, and yet that is not a thought he dwells upon, allowing the conversation to shift further afield than linger any longer on the consequences of failure.

"We spoke for a time, I found myself quite thankful she was nothing like the mimic faced, Valaura is far scarier when it is turned against you that I wish not for a repeat performance in the immediate future." He watches the light of interest spark, pondering on the term Deadlord before filing it away for study later, especially when the description offers a hint of worry to his mind. "I believe she was meant to be a warning, a fate that awaited should we have continued on the path that lead to those twisted mimics. That, after all, is the only reason I can offer for both her and Edelgard appearing within those pages that warned of ruin once more."

respite

         ⤷   ethereal ball 2025: first half.

[crimsonpaved]

HUBERT NEVER TRULY WISHES TO PUSH HER INTO ANYTHING, that, after all, is not why he decided to swear himself to her twice. There'd been a promise once, that he'd give her a push if he thought she needed it, worked against her wishes if he thought the outcome would be better for her, even if it meant putting her before others or even himself. "We all need the odd reminder El', that is, after all, why we have each other to do it." A softer look for her alone, the only emotion showing on his features of the variety of family that has seen each other through the worst storms in life.

He can't stop the chuckle from his lips, one he'd once been scolded for as improper, despite the fact it had alleviated both their nerves in those early days. "I do believe you are attempting to steal my job with the merciless indulgence in what-ifs, so perhaps it is better to take it back before I am well and truly put out of business." It is a rare joke to be found from him, and yet it's a mere shade of something that came before, a silent reassurance that he will be behind her to give a push should ever he be needed to.

There's a noticeable difference in her of late, one he doesn't speak of or record, that gives him hope that the person he faced is little more than an echo in the wind. But, ever the dutiful vassal, he guides her in to the centre of the crowd at the sight of that worrisome weariness in her eyes, letting the circle of bodies close ranks around them to alleviate the eyes that pry. "Very well, shall I pencil the lady in for tea at noon? Or would she prefer the evening slot for this thrilling tale?" Scandalous words from his lips, yet awash in hidden meanings that they have shared again and again, a promise to set aside time for them to speak candidly.

Oh no, he knows this trick well, one that had ended up with them running through the palace halls to boisterous laughter. He reaches and grasps that hand as the music reaches its apex, guiding her into a spin before she has time to think his usual response through. "I have never held back on your account, after all, I do believe I told you before that whatever trouble we cause, we both shared the burden." Oh, how that tone makes his heart soar, to hear the memories it invokes so vividly. "Very well, I shall approach them, but in return, I hope you will share your escapades when I share mine."

To behold the world's undying beauty

#toaball2025 - [ADRESTIA] - cont. from [HERE]

[crimsonpaved]

Smoke Drifts atop Ashen Wings

(Timeframe unknown. Warning; Canon Compliant familial hatred.)

The pile of letters unopened on his desk is often left untouched, and yet as of late a dent has been made in the often endless streams of information that make their way to him unprovoked. Today had been no different, a faceless messenger, another pile of letters, and yet a simple look at the calendar tells him all he needs to know of their importance. Unlike so many others, these are some he cannot ignore, not when the information within will help to ease the sea of concern in his mind.

The first is little more than an update on Enbarr's affairs, an unconcealed attempt by that man's servants to convince him to reconcile their differences, yet Hubert holds no care for the ailing health taking his father, or the desire to know where the 'backups' as his siblings were lovingly referred to, were hidden. In truth, even Hubert does not know which of the myriad surrounding continents, if not further, that his mother and siblings have travelled to, and he does not desire to know despite the ache it leaves in that blackened heart of his.

The next letter, the most cherished, has no indication of where it was sent from, and that is all Hubert needs to know to learn of the sender without opening it. 'Brother' A greeting in a childish, imperfect script... and yet the smile the imperfection brings to his face is unmistakeable, freeing from his fears of the older of his two younger siblings being raised under the strict oversight he had faced in his youth. 'Mama tells us you have been adrift lately, she won't tell us why, but she's been really worried recently, something about terrible lights. Anyways! We like it here, mama made us promise not to describe it, but it's really green! You know, like those forests you described to us!' More than he needs or wishes to know, and yet his fingers trace over the words, ignoring the droplets of water that stain the page like it often does whenever he receives the letters from a distant land.

'Mama keeps telling us you can't say when, but you'll come soon right, remember you pinky promised us!' He does, remembers all too vividly that night in the docks after months of careful planning, the fingers so small, so delicate that curled around his pinky, the tears threatening to fall as the words of his beloved younger brother ring shakily against the night. "I'll keep them safe big brother, just you watch I'll be as tall as you soon, and just as brave!" Of that, Hubert had little doubt, especially when the boy so often tended to the horses whenever their gaze was diverted from him.

Composing himself is... harder this time, writing a casual reply in a mimicked script, one that leaves no mark of the receiver or the sender beyond a childlike scribble, a symbol from one of his earliest tomes that they'd been so fond of tracing. "Come now, Mama has ever right to worry, no doubt the two of you are becoming even more of a handful if you're already starting to play in the dirt at every opportunity." Laughter soars into the air as he recalls the details of his last correspondence with his adored mother, the complaint after complaint from her that they were picking up the habit he swore to her, in jest, that he wouldn't encourage.

"I know it's not the answer you want to hear, but I can't leave the academy just yet. Soon, perhaps, I'll come to visit, and we'll go swimming like we used to, you just need to wait a little longer." An empty promise, and yet better to give them hope than reveal he had no idea and wanted no idea of where they currently resided. "To make up for it... how about I send you some of the chocolate a friend of mine shared. Remember, don't eat it before dinner and definitely don't tell Mama, it's our little secret. Love, Big Brother."

With a sigh, the letter is sealed and placed upon the package with time to spare, his gaze going to the folded coat as he stepped out into the morning air. He has never needed to set an address atop the pain envelope, merely leaving it upon his desk in understanding that by the time he returns in the evening, both letter and package will have disappeared without a trace like they always have. This secrecy, this communication through nameless letters is merely the price he pays, and yet what is such a meagre price in assurance they'll remain safe and sound out of reach of both him and his father until the hour of dawn is at hand.

[crimsonpaved]

[ HOUSE TOUR ]

Having not been able to do as much research about the birthday boy and his family as he would have liked before the ball, Niles found himself wandering away from the party towards what seemed like a more quiet part of the house. Had he been here at an earlier point in his life, some vases or furniture would have been knocked over, valuables would have been slipped into his pocket.. He knows he's a better man now and has long since left the ways of a thief behind him but there's still plenty he could learn just from looking at belongings. Seemed like there was money to burn with how extravagant the party was... and it almost makes him sneer at the waste but he's spent enough time at these sorts of parties in Nohr to know that it was normal for nobility. The same appeared to be true in Adrestia as well.

The outlaw is light on his feet, peaking in through whatever doors the staff had left unlocked before deciding the small library was enough to pique his interest in his little quest to gather more information. While he's scanning through the shelves and pulling the occasional book, he doesn't hear the footsteps approaching, and makes an unwise decision to let his feet take him around the corner to another shelf. One glance up and he's making brief eye contact with a tall, young man who's wandering probably seemed just as suspicious as his own. "If you forget you saw me, I'll trade ya." He held up his own charm bracelet and then noticed the other's. "Anchor for an anchor?"

SLIPPING INTO THE LIBRARY HAD BEEN A SIMPLE AFFAIR, coin slid here, a whisper there, deceit like fire in his veins as his slips into the door in search of his quarry. He'd heard rumour of this particular viscount before, of magics so dark they were kept hidden in a tightly guarded section of the mansion in hoped of avoiding the very scrutiny Hubert brought to bear. He cannot be blamed for the weariness in his bones, the experience that drives him more than enough to give reason to chase the tome in question, yet, it would seem he's not along in his little jaunt through sealed thresholds.

The man before him, for but a moment, is replaced by the image of himself he sees in the mirror, someone consumed by the flames of hatred at the dichotomy of the world only to rise above it in the eyes of those around him. No doubt the man before him has most likely tried, or even succeeded in, rearming himself in the face of the faceless wolves circling, and yet it only serves to put him at a cautious ease. "Seen who? All I've seen is a bunch of dusty old books." The truce made whole by the unspoken words, even as fingers deftly detach the anchor and toss it towards the man.

"With that out of the way, perhaps the walls will be willing to listen to senseless rambling." A smirk on his features, walking towards the bookcase and letting his fingers dance amongst the spines of endless tomes. "If I were subject to rumours surrounding an overindulgence in dark magic, where would I hide it." Senseless rambling, nothing more, as book after book is cycled from shelf to hand and back. "I wouldn't construct some damp cellar, too cliché... in a tome perhaps? One designed to look too natural, perhaps..."

[crimsonpaved]

The estate's halls are still quiet, people crammed into every remotely comfortable corner.

The pale light of early morning filtering though takes shelter in the solitude of this pale glow. A few more steps, she opens the door and oh. She wishes to be able to get used to this sight one day Hubert sleeping peacefully.

Unfortunately, today it doesn't last long as her re-appearance seems to rouse him.

"I'm so sorry for waking you up."

She speaks with a hushed voice, unsure if the spell he cast lasted through the night.

"It seems the party continued until early dawn; the staff covered the leftover food but didn't hide it. So I thought I'd get us something to eat when you wake now as to not deal with the crowds."

So that she could have him all to herself just a bit longer.

"I don't know how picky you are, but I prefer food to not be mushy, so I took whatever looked good."

With her definition of good apparently being a couple of sweet buns a savory creepe and the now somewhat less sparkling water and fruit syrup drink.

"G-go to sleep if you need to, I won't leave like that again." In some way, it is as much a reassurance to herself as it is to him.

IT'S RARE, he's never slept as soundly as he did through the night beforehand, and yet to admit the reason has the back of his neck flushed with heat. Golden eyes squint at the morning light filtering in through the skylight, and yet he feels no impeding magic pressing against the crumbling sanctum. It would seem the Viscount had overlooked his little cheeky trickery to claim the room, something the Marquis Vestra would have to send his regards for.

Tine's voice is... soft, like she's noticed his distaste for the morning hours and has accepted his little quirks for what they are. "Good Morning..." A yawn, stretching out his limbs as his eyes fall on the ribbon still intertwined with a smile gracing his features. "Hmmm... were it anyone else I'd be annoyed but... waking up to you my dear... is a rather nice change." An outstretched hand reaching towards her, even as he turns to seat himself along the chair.

It's deliberate... and the image of intimacy is there all the same, inviting her to sit with her back against him. "Mushy... Thankfully our tastes align, I've avoided mushy food since the first time I camped outside Enbarr... my cooking ability left a lot to be desired at fourteen..." He can't help it, the disused laughter falling from his lips at the memory coming unbidden to him. Perhaps it's greed, but he can easily become used to mornings like this, laughter beneath the sun's kisses as breakfast is shared.

"Hmmm... after we eat, perhaps." Deliberate wording, making clear that they are well and truly intertwined. They have time at least until his carriage arrives, and Hubert intends to make the most of their temporary bedroom. "A pity it is not a permanent fixture..." Words he does not realise he's spoken aloud, nor the implication of speaking them to the fair lady within reach.

@tineoffreege

[crimsonpaved]

Softly, gently, the hand beneath her chin trails along her arm, indulging in the sensation beneath bare fingers that so rarely feel in such vividness. Intoxicating gentleness, a thought, a sensation he has never indulged in, and yet he finds himself truly ravenous for more, an appetite that becomes insatiable with every moment which he wholly embraces as their fingers intertwine. He wants to laugh, that he'd somehow lead them into a storeroom filled with the items one would expect of a mage's study.

His hand on her back is never far from its newfound perch, even as he feels the exhaustion lurking within from many a sleepless night take hold. So he walks, slowly, as if trying carefully not to jolt the mage, the woman, his Tine in the bout of exhaustion that has seemed to taken hold of them both. The sofa, fabric that looks untouched by time, is all the more inviting to him, reluctantly separating their hands to pick up a cushion before guiding her down alongside him.

The cushion is placed upon his lap, a precaution before he's almost guiding her to settle in beside him, "Rest now, my dear, the party will continue on till dawn regardless..." of our presence, words that do not need to be spoken any longer as his fingers begin to brush gently through her hair. The expression in his gaze is soft, different from the intensity present when magic travels along his limbs, allowing the softness to permeate the air like a gentle lullaby.

He can feel himself begin to doze as gentle music travels the halls, drooping eyelids threatening to close as he listens not to the song playing, but the awareness of the heartbeat that blooms within his arms. The drain on his energy alleviates in time with the flickering lantern light, as if his soul is telling him to rest... and so he does, turning his eyes to the face that he has come to truly cherish, watching as the bracelet on which he'd haphazardly stored her seashell charm earlier jolts less and less as his breathing calms to a restful lull.

-- HUBERT SIDE. FIN --

Leave the rain outside

cont from .

[crimsonpaved]

HE KNEW, WALKING THIS PATH SO LONG AGO, that there will always be prices to pay yet why should they, should she be the cost of fate's machinations? And so, he takes fate into his hands and ties it into a thread, a string invisible to the world that reaches past the crumbling masks and the responsibilities they bear to entwine and ensnare heart and soul, body and mind into a faded tapestry of myriad emotions and colours.

A heart that beats in his ears like drums, allowing his gaze to meet hers as those soft, once damning words fall from her lips. To do so is to seal their fates and yet let his will become the blade that slices the ribbon and fears that threaten to consume the blackened heart. A breath, a sigh, fingers that glance along her face to upturn her chin, there is a hint of tears that threaten to ruin beautiful features, and yet that is all he needs to seal his thoughts into a perfect symphony.

Hubert does not need to verbally answer her, instead he leans down, closing the distance between lips like a flame attracts oxygen. It is a soft touch, and yet it feels so cautious, like she is the only porcelain he is afraid to break. Yet the warmth, the softness of her lips is intoxicating more than anything ever has, it makes him want and want and yet still he remains hesitant, as if attempting to commit her to his memory with the unifying touches between them.

Slowly, reluctantly, he has to pull himself back, remind himself to breathe despite the fact the hand on her back refuses to allow any great distance to form. His features are softer now, and yet there is a passion to be found in them, a thousand, thousand unspoken words that gaze coveys, a thought that can be summed up in a single phrase. "My Lady..."

Leave the rain outside

cont from .

[crimsonpaved]

TIME IS OFTEN DESCRIBED AS FLOWING TO A STOP, and nowhere is it clearer than now. Outside the door there sits a world constantly shifting, changing in ways he cannot or will not attempt to predict, and so he takes a stand in the moment, rooting himself in the now rather than the myriad endless what ifs that often consume his mind like an unending game of chess. Distant music quickens, and his pace with it, hand unravelling and coming to rest on her lower back.

There's an unsubtle intimacy in the curl of long fingers, in the way distance closes into nothingness. It's a newfound awareness, a burst of life given to something new, pure. It was planted in battle and nurtured by the gentle caress of rain as it beckons to take and take, give and give until nought is left but intertwined threads. "Oh? Then the person that did..." A risk taken, leaning forward until the words uttered can only be heard by her, hushed tones falling softly onto her ear. "Must have been an irresistible catch in of themselves."

He hears the choked tone, notices the familiar ways in which she often hid her thoughts and feelings, and resolves himself, raising his right hand to her cheek and allowing himself to wipe the tear from her skin. "And the crimson accents your undeniable beauty, Tine." There is no wavering in his will, nor does his hand depart from her cheek. He knows the price of sworn oaths, and knows one day he will be required to pay it and step forward as Marquis, yet for the here, and now they can afford to cast away their titles and the roles that fate attempts to shackle them with.

"Then do not." Words that burst forth like a flame, that scream the thoughts and words he cannot express as he holds the shorter woman against him. El had told him, earlier, to enjoy his evening, and so he had twisted the meaning, for until the dawn arrived, in his mind the evening could stretch on until time indefinite. And so he remains there, whispering gentle nothingness into the night as the dam of emotions threatens to break. "Let the evening be a night, a day, a week, a month, a year, it does not have to end with a dance, My Dear Tine."

Leave the rain outside

cont from .

[crimsonpaved]

THERE IS... a rather spacious floor for them to move on, and so he allows an idea once fleeting to bloom into light once more. Fingers deftly undo the hair tie of hers he'd managed to accidentally take, raising it to tie bangs and unruly hair behind his head once more before he bows low. The bow itself is abnormal, not as low as a noble should bow in courtesy, instead wandering uncontrollably into the territory of courtship.

"It would seem, My Lady..." That term again, except there is no quiet hesitance now, the possessiveness that lingered in depths unseen allowed to shine through in full like a declaration intended for her alone. "... that we have our own private ballroom." A simple fact made intimate by the air of privacy his magic has afforded to them, one, two, three steps to close the distance as plain digits brings her hand to his lips for a moment before intertwined hands are extended outwards. His other hand cannot be described as idle, resting on her hip as he leads in gentle sway.

"Tine." A crack in the mask of stoicness, syllables wrapped in indescribable warmth, in hopes of bringing her gaze to his features and allowing that soft joy in her voice to soar like a dawnbird. "To keep you away from vultures and prying eyes is my greatest pleasure." Truthful words, the veil of enigma he often speaks in, absent from the candidness as he sways to the echoes of a distant melody. There is a beauty to be found in the sea of privacy that the spell has provided, as souls intertwine via dance.

Is he alright? Truth be told... " ... there is nowhere I would rather be right now than here." A simple and clean confession, one that surpasses self-doubt and position to speak directly to the heart of the one that has managed to intrigue him to no end. He had promised, once, to seek out that which interested him should the moment arise, and so he had.

Leave the rain outside

cont from .