#unrevised

[faerieconsort]

“The immediate transition was so subtle and effective they simply didn’t see it happening. If they looked behind their backs, it wasn’t as though there would be a harsh line between what it had been and what it then was. They knew somewhere inside of them that the morning hadn’t just risen up with the sun and lit the world up in sparkling white light. No. The truth is they’d walked so much and so far that they came to meet the morning where it resided. They’d walked so much and so far they ended up in its home and saw that its home was eternal and inseparable from the world itself. A place of perpetuity from which it never departs. After all, why would it? It was fed, content, and warm. There, it would never die. There, Day held its Kingdom and it never had to compete with Night.

With all the warmth in the air and the smell of sweet fresh water and blooming flowers, they had no choice but to let their guards down. Nothing bad could happen to them in such a beautiful place. See for yourself—take a moment and listen. Can’t you hear the birds singing? The bees buzzing? Life is becoming itself, waking up to this glorious dawn all around you. Can’t you see the way the faint morning light filters through the luxurious flowering canopies all above you to form kaleidosopic shapes on the ground and on the bark? Can’t you hear the soft whisper of the wind through the leaves or the sound of the gentle gurgling stream? The toads and the frogs chattering and laughing? The butterflies flapping about? If you can’t hear it, focus a little bit. Use your imagination if you have to.”

[consciousprose]

The Sterile Field

I am surrounded by plastic oceans of blue and white. Drapes, gowns and masks, create my tide.

The blues enchant me to preserve its integrity with all my might. Sterility, a necessity, to save this life.

If hands wander afar, beyond imaginary lines, don’t return to contaminate the blue you left behind.

- Aleta Jay

.

Note: Today was the first day of my surgery rotation. It was an amazing day! However, I just wanted to write this quick piece to share my obsessive fear of contaminating the sterile field! 

[paytons-path]

Bio Notes (unrevised)

Slowly but surely getting my grades back I’m supposed to find out where I am living next semester today! This email couldn’t be any slower

[briannadeberry]

“The smell. It has followed you” . . . Read more from GHOSTED available now at the link in my bio! . . . . #shortstory #writer #writersofinstagram #original #fiction #Ghosted #fiction #unedited #unrevised https://www.instagram.com/p/CV-893iL78p/?utm_medium=tumblr

[susan-gampre]

"To My Loyal Employees..."

The sunrise brought not only the change of pink to blue skies, but unexpected arrivals...

The Brothel had been stirred to wake with the excited hollers of day employees at the distant figures approaching from the end of the path. The familiarity of the big cats had stirred the establishment in hooray at the return of their Madam and Champion!

Until, with baited breath, the group came to pause in celebration as Anthrel and Ryker remained alone in their arrival, both tigers watching the workers thoughtfully and patiently.

It wasnt until Keisong, the beloved Matron of the whores (a long legged draenei with a passion for dangling jewels and draping silks, and a tall slender figure fit for such a feminine silhouette), noticed the letter carefully and delicately fastened to Anthrels bejeweled collar. With a flick of her wispy tail would the blue woman sigh in realization, disheartened though amused with Susan's inability to stay out of contact even for her vacation.

"Fret not," Keisong muses, peering about at the gathered crowd of employees as her nimble fingers defly open the envelope without ripping the delicate paper, pulling from its depths a single piece of parchment paper. After reading the beginning sentence of the letter would the draenei clear her throat whilst readjusting her grip on the paper, speaking up-- unconcerned if passer bys would listen in as she reads:

"To my loyal employees, the hours grow even longer as I anticipate the final end to this begrudging adventure. Though I have begun to notice Cedric grows restless in our loitering aswell, I anticipate we will set sail for the mainland once more in a months time, followed by a quick portal to the humble village we call home. I encourage you all to keep your spirits up and keep the Brothel running, we'll be home before long... And all business will resume unphased."

A murmur would pass among the employees as they whisper their thrill of the information presented.

Though as Keisong reads ahead she'd instantly flicker a concerned glance toward Anthrel, the tigress already staring back with increasing impatience -- such was visible in how her tail flicked about in a haughty fashion. Her mate nuzzling her jaw did little to console the tigress, yet Ryker remained calm and collected.

"P.S.," Keisong speaks up, her brow perked as she announces, "Find Anthrel a comfortable spot. She'll begin nesting soon, as she enters the last few weeks of her pregnancy--," concerned whispers wafted through the group as they hissed in surprise ("Shes with cubs again?", "I'm not feeding her again, she's terrifying when with cubs!"), "I trust I'll be home in time to aid in her delivery. Keep her happy and stress free for the next three weeks."

A collective groan moved throughout the employees, but they'd find courage in the gesture of how Keisong easily caresses and pats the glowering orange tiger with little incident-- besides a throaty growl. The draenei smiles as she finishes reading, "Love, Susan and Cedric. Be safe, my friends."

With a soft sigh the woman folds the letter once more, flicking her glowing gaze about to inspect the expressions of the crowd.

It was a mix of dread and excitement, though Keisong deduced the dread was due to their collective chore revolving around providing Anthrel a whole month of being stress free. Easier said than done.

"She's coming home," Keisong reminds them, instantly lifting the tension from their shoulders whilst she beckons the orange and white tigers to follow, "Let's ensure the Brothel is ready to receive it's Madam."

[lysandra-vanburen]

Unraveling Witches

It felt as though the dark ages were upon them once more.

There was this impending sense of doom, it was as though dread had taken shape of the sky and eclipsed it's threatening presence over the valley... Washing the lands in black shadows which danced and flickered with life, mocking... Taunting.

The demons within these shadows sapped the warmth and hope from the very soils, drapping the woods in their essence... Leaving a tainted stench of evil in what once originally was a calm landscape with beautiful horizons and equally entrancing experiences all around.

Lysandra's eyes hardened whilst her visage otherwise lacked emotion, her gaze hot enough to burn holes into the glass window separating her bedroom from the world beyond.

While she didn't show it right away, there wasn't a doubt to be had that she was angry. Of course she was angry. Truthfully, she was volatile with emotion, inwardly she was tearing herself apart with the sheer notion that the reason her forests were awash in the vile ichor was because she hesitated for too long.

It was entirely her fault that the opposing cult which currently reined over her homeland had managed to even get into the position of power. These were her forests. And they snuck on her land and bred like cockroachs right under her nose.

"Damn Heartsbane," Lysandra hissed, turning away from the window in an attempt to put the horrors of her neglience in the far recess of her mind.

She atleast knew that lingering and kicking herself in the ass would go well into the night. It would kick up old habits of insomnia, the anxiety and self-loathing wasn't good to simmer in. Thus, the Lady Vanburen would address the tray of letters accumulated throughout the day. It was her night habit to read and absorb the general testimonies and personal letters before putting an end to her day.

But there was one particular letter which immediately caught her attention. Of course, the area was rather simply lit, and for a moment Lysandra considered the idea that her mind was playing tricks. Long, elegant, manicured fingers would ensnare the dark colored letterlocked paper, lofting the lightweight item into the light of her desks oil for illumination to confirm her theory.

"Varick?" She'd remark outloud, her confusion plain and blatant whilst prying her brothers wax seal apart to free his letter from the folded paper meant to protect the contents from prying eyes.

Her brows would remain furrowed as Lysandra lowered herself into her seat, muttering to herself all the while, "Now why... Would you write me a letter and not just visit?"

Though she'd not doddle on the issues of her brother's lacking desire to be more involved, perhaps his answer lay within the folds of the paper currently clasped in her hands. Thus, with the face of the letter angled in the light for easier reading, Lysandra would begin to read, her lips moving silently along.

The further she read into the swiftly written word the quicker her features went through an array of expressions, on a scale of confused to appalled. It wasnt long before she finished the letter, only to read it a second time closely to ensure what Varicks words were written as so.

After a moment of consideration the woman snatched up the oil lamp and the letter, lifting from her desk chair and bustling straight from her bed chambers to her study -- in her wake had she stirred Olaf and Duchess, both hounds whimpering in acknowledgement to the distressed woman. Though Lysandra paid neither dog mind whilst pushing open the door to her study, instantly met with the cold night air and stale scent of moth balls. Setting her paper and oil lamp down atop the coffee table stationed near the hearth of her study, the woman quickly bent on her knee to grab the souvenir, collected after handling the Heartsbane witch, from a cabinet nearer the heart of the study.

Within the bag were the papers and journals which she gathered from the cave of the witch, papers and journals which would instantly be dumped onto the coffee table after she set flame to the fireplace for better lighting.

Instantly the room was banished of darkness and cold, awash in the light and warmth of hope, such which gave Lysandra the courage to begin shuffling through and throughly reading one of the three journals which had been in the possession of the Heartsbane witch. The journal which her brother had deliberately described in his letter, such a journal which contained sensitive information and details which no other being should have ever documented regarding not only Lysandra but her entire family.

Her mother, her father, her brothers and even Maria... There were pages detailing her neices, including Venreena and her family, as well as her nephews... All the way down to the bastard of Adaires. To Lysandras relief... Silas's bastard was not among those written.

But for those that were written? They each had lages of information. What they did for careers, for the witches of the family it include vague descriptions of their power, their influence, their contacts - and even some details of those contacts were written in the jorunal...

However, for Lysandra and her children the information was a little more in-depth. It included their schedules, their preferences in beverage, food, their animals... Such sensitive information that only someone in constant contact would know about like their personal maids and private guards...

What chilled Lysandra about her children's pages were the ending statements of their individual details: "Mission Fulfilled by, and as requested, Julia Jovner".

What sort of mission would a Heaertsbane have with her kids? Was the witch referencing attacking them? If so... Was her intent to kill them?

Lysandra paled with that thought, lowering herself back into the seat of the couch before the coffee table, her eyes staring toward the orange and yellow flames within the hearth. Did they intend to kill her Charlette and Albert? If so, who else might they try to target?

Instantly, Lysandra returned to reading, shifting through many names of the Vanburen in her family. There was a mass of details surrounding the witches of the Vanburen coven, even, which only further made Lysandra uncomfortable.

But one name carried an extra piece of information which floored Lysandra.

'Loralei Vanburen, wife of Silas Vanburen: Next mission.'

"For fucks sake," Lysandra cussed, bringing a hand tk her eyes thus to rub the exhaustion from them. In the next instant she'd sigh and murmur, "Varick was right... There's someone in the Melstone Barony working for the Heartsbane."

Such a revelation called for a large glass of whiskey before trying to comprehend how to address the issue.

[rickiedevron]

The Three Terrible Lessons

                               Follow up from this post.

                                                                          The following story was                                                                           written from a roleplay                                                                  between @the-cleaner-wra and I!

Mentiones: @braxtonhudson @piercetheliving

                       Music

“I’ve learned two bitter lessons tonight, Mister Worthshire...”

It seemed as though her heavy thoughts of grief dragging down her mood was terribly noticeable. She could feel the eyes upon her, the eyes of the man which had initially offered the cigarette -- which Rickie currently stuck between her sneering teeth.

She couldn’t will herself to hold his gaze, knowing very well if she did he’d see the broken soul within through her sad eyes. That alone made her absolutely disgusted with herself. Rickie loathed this feeling of regret, of guilt. It was a crushing weight that hung off her slumped shoulders and coiled around her throat, suffocating her in the same instance as breaking her spine.

It was disruptive.

Perhaps that was what lead Connor to beckon Rickie to the Hudson Clinic, how suddenly her lack of attention had become. Perhaps that was why she could feel a heartfelt conversation was just around the corner, now that both adults had found a comfortable seat within the vacant, quiet clinic.

Connor, upon sitting down, would unbutton his suit jacket, hesitating as he’d begun reaching. Pointedly the Cleaned held open the flack of his jacket, showing Rickie his hand. 

"I'm setting my pistol on the dresser, as I'm certain I won't need it,” he stated simply, before reaching in and doing exactly that.

Upon relaxing in that comfortable chair, two fluffy Gilnean cats peaked out from under it, mewling quietly. Next, Connor addresses her, "Now, Miss Devron, I must admit I'm quite intrigued... What lessons did you learn that has you so distraught?"

Slowly the woman brought one of her legs up onto the table with her, fixing the groove of the heel of her boot against the edge of the table. The gesture brought her some delight, stretching the joints momentarily distracting her. She'd curl her arm around her thigh and calf, pressing her cheek atop the knee before taking a deep mouthful of smoke from the half-destroyed cigarette.

With that exhale of smoke would her silence be broken after: "The first I learned is that if a man -- let alone a woman -- can't respect your career or your choices, they're definitely not the one."

The words were stressed and strained, carried from a heartbroken woman’s lips.

He listened intently, hands folded on his lap, with his legs crossed.  Nodding slowly, he offered a small smile,  "That is quite true, Miss Devron, an amicable partnership requires understanding, and respect, for both parties," he dipped his head low, "Did they judge you for something?"

Calmly Rickie lifted her head from her knee. For a moment she simply stared at the burning end of her midnight cigarette, a storm rolling through her eyes as she recounted the conversation that had her so mixed up. "He judged me for choosing my suit over him.”

She’d flick her cigarette, Connor remaining silent as she continued.

“He said I was letting myself live in chains or something like that... All cause I broke up with him -- I never explained -why- I was breaking up with him, though... Just that..," she'd hesitate, beginning to roll her eyes before huffing out, "I just told him I wanted to focus on work."

"Truth of the matter was," she expresses, "Desmond got me thinking about some shit he said a while back-- that it's not good to be a suit and date someone, or something like that. Because then that person's life gets put in danger, and they become your weakness. And I believed him--," she shrugs, flicking her cigarette's ash away, "It made sense. Not that I could tell Damon that shit, though.."

"In chains... That's quite a tall claim," Connor said with a hum, leaning his head back against the cushion of the chair, thoughtful for a moment,  "Many people find that when they can not control the livelihood of their partners, they grow jealous, envious even, over it." 

He smiled lightly, regarding her for a moment,  "And what Desmond said...  It's true, as I am sure you've seen," he motioned to himself. "However-," holding up a finger, he dipped his head forth and stated,  "Holding a relationship whilst in the position that we are requires discipline, discretion, and a tremendous amount of care.  And, while you may show that discretion and discipline as to keep the relationship clandestine, others may grow frustrated with it.  I agree with Mister Pierce mostly on that statement- but it's not just because it becomes -your- weakness."  He'd reach into his suit jacket to procure the tin of cigarillos, plucking one for himself and lighting it.  "Let us use a hypothetical situation."

Watchful brown eyes kept their hold upon Connor, eager to hear his advice -- Already Rickie could feel the stress beginning to melt from her muscles. She no longer felt terribly overwhelmed with the idea that the break up was entirely her fault.

Connor took a few puffs idly, humming in thought,  "Let us say we are on business, and you were injured, killed, or taken captive.  Many in the company may know what happened, however, I'm sure you notice we keep much of our information in-house, so to speak.  Let us say for hypothetical reasons your lover is outside the company, doesn't understand, gets angry that we aren't discussing what happens.  They begin to make a scene.  It draws attention- unwanted attention."  He waved his hand lightly. 

Rickie’s lips pulled into a firm line, grimacing at the thought of such a hysteria. She could see it herself-- A man screaming into the face of Braxton Hudson himself that he endangered the life of Rickie. She could also foresee the punishment that would follow if she were ever to return home after such a shit show.

"It puts your co-workers and the company in danger of investigation and brings about unnecessary suspicion,"  Connor regarded quietly,  "It is very difficult, this life we lead, Miss Devron.  For some, more difficult than others.  However, if I must say, despite your faults,” Rickie’s eyes narrow for a moment, though Connor continues as he wasn’t affected by such a look, “With what you said if it's the truth... You did the right thing.  Mister Hudson isn't a slave driver, he is a businessman.  Quite frankly the best that I've worked for, and I don't say that for simple flattery."

Dragging her tongue across her bottom lip, the foot atop the table's edge would begin to tap idly at the air, lifting her free palm to her hand only to lick the flesh before fizzling out the burning end of her cigar, snuffing it out now that all the tobacco had been smoked.

"All around, I know for damn sure this decision was the best I've made in some ten years. I'm saying so in case you're wondering if I regret it--," she'd purse her lips and shake her head, "The only thing I regret about tonight is he wasn't able to see my end of things, didn't wanna be friends and try to work this shit out slowly, rebuild on a foundation of trust. He wanted to pull his mask back on and get to fucking work-- Some shit about bodyguards and assassin's not mixing well together," she snorts.

He looked to her and smiled, nodding lightly.  "Good."  He said with a deep nod.  "As for him not understanding your end of things, it always happens.  There will be disagreements where you both dig your heels in the sand and not give way- however...,” He frowned, furrowing his brows lightly.  "You said that he was arguing about your job?  What points was he trying to make against it?"

"Stupid shit really. I was trying to help him, you know? He wanted to get outta a specific line of business, and I was offering him advice regarding how I last saw him act in a fucking interview... You remember him, I'm certain-- He seemed to really push your buttons. Damon, that--," she hesitates before sighing, "'Master assassin, among other things'?” Connor blinked, a grim expression overcoming his features, and instantly Rickie would begin to nod, “Yeah, I was trying to get him to... Dial it down and be a little more mundane -- He got real uppity, started blaming everyone else that they all point fingers at him and assume.”

“My telling him to try wearing more mundane clothes like a suit or some shit turned into Mister Hudson's a fool for letting us walk around unprotected and without armor-- Just..," she shook her head, "He got real mouthy--... Now that i think back on it, I dunno what I saw in him."

Connor rose his brows and clicked his teeth, tugging a clay ashtray over and tapping the cigarillo idly.  "Oh, I do remember him.  I was quite appalled that he was so upfront and forthcoming about what he did... and expected to get a job with a Shipping Company advertising like that."  He blinked and shook his head.  "I introduced myself as a tailor, handed Mister Hudson a portfolio of my work, and well-" he waggled his hands lightly with a chuckle.  "Here I am... As for unprotected, I'd think all of our skills do twice over what armor could."  He smiled lightly.  "We are not a mercenary band, after all."  He offered her a friendly smile.  "I've always found, however, that those who make excuses for their behavior are always the ones that don't improve.  It is why I make no excuses.  If I blunder, I assure my employer that I will do better, and then prove such by acting."  He dipped his head.

With a small bob of the head, Rickie would begin to smile. It was clearly a more genuine gesture as the duo fell into a comfortable silence, one that was ultimately disturbed by a quirky browed Connor who motioned toward Rickie.

“However I must admit I'm concerned with the one statement you quoted him for... Assassins and Bodyguards don't mix well..."  He furrowed his brows, thinning his lips.  "Had his behavior against Mister Hudson begun when he was spurned?"

Slowly she'd straighten her posture, mouth going dry as she remarks, "I think so. He did say that, uh... Our paths were at a fork, or something like that. That where we left it was the last time we should ever meet. I dunno how promising that sounds, but I don't picture him to be a fool, going after Mister Hudson."

He nodded slowly.  "I certainly hope not.  I've always found that those who have to brag they're master assassins-" he leaned in to whisper loudly.  "Usually aren't master assassins."  He nodded sagely, giving her the 'ok' symbol with his hand.  "My second most concern, however, is also this- was he angry enough to come after you?"  He asked, tilting his head, sitting up.  "I know many do not like me, Miss Devron, I am prudish, shrewd, strictly business much of my time- however... You are a co-worker, and part of the company I am loyal to.  Which means that regardless of either of our opinions, I will do what I must to ensure your safety."

Swallowing heavily, Rickie's eyes drop down to her hands. She was quiet for a moment, though when she would speak her voice was far less shaky, more conviction and confidence to her tone whilst stating firmly: "He wouldn't come after me. I don't think so, at least. If he felt an ounce of what I did for him, he'd be in too much pain just with the thought of me, so... Gods forbid there come a day where suddenly he loses his humanity and does come after me. That'll be the day I resolve my heartbreak and gun him down without a second thought."

He eyed the woman gently, before offering a smirk.  "Good."  He nodded curtly, adjusting his suit idly- it was a tick of his, it seemed.  "No woman or man should have to live in fear of a former lover, so long as you don't think that he will do you harm, I will be content.  However, if you notice he is following you, or you feel threatened, or are confronted by him, I want you to tell me immediately."

He regarded her for a moment, sighing lightly.  "You said you learned a second lesson, however?"

With a single nod she'd remark, "My second lesson this evening, I think, is that... What isn't meant to be will never last, and it's recognizing that it wasn't meant to be that lessens the heartache. Do you think that makes sense?" Her eyes move to inspect Connor now, "I may have read into this entire evening all wrong, of course. But in a sense... I did learn things can't last forever."

"No, that is a valuable lesson to learn as well, Miss Devron.  The moment we begin to cling to things that we know isn't meant to be is the moment we compromise ourselves and do ourselves an injustice.  Life is fleeting, for some it ages.  However we humans are met with a life far shorter than some.  When we cling to things that tear us apart we waste valuable time for what we could be devoting to more meaningful connections and companions."  He dipped his head lightly.  "Were you fighting often, before you finally decided to part ways?"

Her mind was a buzz with thoughts and his remarks, digesting it all as best as she could and as quickly. Alas, rather than delve and hesitate too long, she'd bring her attention back to Connor. With risen brows and parted lips she sighs, shaking her head,

"Not at all. It was the honeymoon phase, we barely made it a full week, if I'm honest. I went in purely out of excitement-- We clicked so damned well, I thought we coulda really been something. But the more I think about it the more I wonder if that was just me being eager to settle down.”

Oh how foolish she felt...

With a pitiful laugh the woman pushes herself up from the table, fingers combing through her hair, shoulders raising up in a shrug, "Gods, I sound like a love-struck teenager-- This is all over a guy I knew for, under a fucking month, that's pathetic as shit."

Connor smirked.

"I understand that,"  he mumbled under his breath, before he took a deep inhale and let it out slowly.  "Did he ask you to be involved with him, or did you ask him? And Miss Devron, affection has an uncanny way of making us irrational.  It happens to the best of us.  Especially when the attachment is strong.  Do not blame yourself or put yourself down for being human.  You are not me, after all."  He smiled, tilting his head lightly- a jest about himself, “Afterall... I judge myself too harshly for putting too much sugar in my tea."

Quirking a corner of her mouth upward, Rickie would manage a slight chuckle in response to the jesting, though she'd promptly bring herself to straighten up and regather her composure, staring toward the ceiling now. "Hm..," she smirks, seeming to reminisce, "If I recall correctly... I initiated it all. I asked him out on our first date-- Got the ball rolling."

Connor nodded,  "Then you learned something else, as well- in all of this."  He smirked small,  "Don't move so quickly, and always rationalize your feelings."

And suddenly it felt as though all the breath had been knocked from her lungs, all of the pressure upon her shoulders lifted in an instant. It overwhelmed the woman, how she didn’t feel so strained and struggling-- she could actually breathe now. 

It was with a shaky breath that she'd turn toward Connor, her lips pressing into a firm line before admitting, "I think... I think I'm ready to retire, for tonight, Mister Worthshire. I don't mean to be abrupt about it."

"You are quite fine, Miss Devron, it is rather late."  He stood up, leaving the pistol on the dresser as he moved to the door.  "Do be careful, and remember, if he starts to follow or harass you, do let me know.  I don't much like those who intimidate their former lovers.  It's bad form.“

Quietly she'd gather the paper wrapped sandwich into her hands, offering Connor a small smile in her approach for the door, "Thanks for hearing me out, by the by. Not often I get to rant or vent my feelings to someone-- This was a good therapy session--, Evenin’, Mister Worthshire."

A smile was shared between the polar opposites, Rickie the first to turn away by prying open the door to the clinic and closing it behind her. Long, purposeful strides carried her to the Cathedral district, her head held high and shoulders squared once again.

[little-peril-stories]

“I’m not a dog you can summon to your heels at a single command, Mr. Regent.” Realizing how tightly my fists are clenched, I uncurl my fingers and draw a deep breath. “With all due respect.”

“With all due respect, my good man, that is exactly what you are.”

[icedhoneyy]

Thinking about Hinata and how he grows so much more accustomed to casually showing affection through touch after being in Brazil for two years, to the point that it becomes second nature to him. So much so that when he goes back to Japan, he has to tell himself to hold back a little.

But after two years of kissing people on the cheek to say hello and goodbye, it has become second nature to him. Instinct almost. It's mindlessly, the way he leans his head just a little to the side and lifts up his cheek to the air, expecting the overly exaggerated mwah sound to hit his ear, accompanied by a friendly peck on his face when his friends all start to bid each other goodbye. But it doesn't come, and before anyone can even see his awkward stance, Hinata is retreating back, more aware of his surroundings now.

Except that, when he is really tired, this realization doesn't come as soon as it should.

So, after a late night training session with MSBY that turned into a even later night training session with Atsumu, Bokuto and Sakusa, he can barely keep his eyes open, let alone make his brain poperly function. It's sluggish, the way he sling his bag over his shoulder and start to make way to each his friends and teammates. Hinata moves slowly and lightly, a barely there peck when he bids each of them goodbye.

Surprisingly, Atsumu doesn't react instantly. He just stands there frozen, a pink dusting his cheeks as he tries to process what happend. Sakusa looks...appalled, brain still shortcircuiting from the moment he saw Hinata stand on his tiptoes to reach his face. Bokuto is a giggly blush mess, whipping his head widly between the other two, as if to ask them: "what just happened?". All three are speechless, obviously being caught off guard by the kiss, just watching his figure lazily retreating out of the MSBY Gym.

Then realization hits Hinata like a freight train. His footsteps come to a halt, and he stands still, lettint it fully sink in for a second before turning back to his friends, frantically trying to explain himself.

So, when Hinata leaves for Asas São Paulo years later, it becomes a bit hard to explain to the newly hired team members why the team's main setter and two of the OH keep greeting each other with cheek kisses.

[startanewdream]

Fic prompt! Hinny + "how did you not realize we've been dating for over a year now?"

Thank you for sending a Hinny prompt! 💖 Here's some sort of HBP Missing Moment:

*-*-*-*

“I heard it was your fault Dean and I broke up.”

It’s not the undeniable truth that makes Harry splutter his drink, but rather all those other feelings that come with Ginny’s presence as she sits next to him, twirling the end of her ponytail between her fingers, her lips curved into an amused smile.

“Sorry,” she adds, patting his back, which, of course, does not help to calm his racing heart. It’s stupid because this is not the first time Ginny sits next to him (Harry is very grateful for the fact they enjoy having meals around the same time and the Gryffindor table isn’t that large), but this is the first time since her new single status.

Which means this is the first time since forever — fine, since October — that Harry has a chance of actually asking her out.

But since the Great Hall at breakfast — and with her brother sitting just a few seats away — isn’t the best place for it, Harry just coughs, hoping to not look that much guilty.

“My fault?”

“Oh, yeah.” She extends her hand to grab the toasts in front of Harry, oblivious to how her hand brushes his arm. “Apparently we have been secretly in love since last year.”

His heart skips a beat even as his eyes sweep guiltily over to where Ron is sitting, still oblivious to them.

“No one told me about it,” he murmurs. Things would have been easier if this was true.

Ginny’s head snaps up to watch him; it’s difficult to keep her gaze when she is so close and her eyes are shining with mischief.

“Oh, Harry, how did you not realize we've been dating for over a year now?”

She laughs and because he cannot resist it, no matter how much his heart aches for her words to became true, Harry joins her; and because the universe knows that Harry Potter cannot have a moment of peace, this is the moment that Ron decides to notice their interaction.

“Who are you dating?” He asks, brows already furrowed, glaring at his sister.

Ginny rolls her eyes, tossing back her hair and shifting in her seat; Harry can’t help but notice that this movement creates a rift between them that wasn’t there before.

“It depends on who you ask,” Ginny says dignifiedly. “Apparently people cannot break up a relationship unless they are in love with someone else.”

“So you are—”

“I’m single, that’s what I am.”

Ron’s eyes meet Harry’s for a brief second before Harry decides that his plate needs his full attention.

“You could fancy someone else, come on, someone better—”

“What about you?” Ginny asks suddenly. A quick glance at her direction shows Harry that she looks flustered. “How is your bachelor life? A new love interest on the horizon? How about—oh, good morning, Hermione!”

Harry looks up again. Ginny gives Hermione her brightest smile before turning her eyes to Ron; there’s a silent battle between them, something that Harry decides he wants no part of, and he just shrugs when Hermione throws him a questioning look.

And then Ginny and Ron are suddenly fine.

“Anyway,” Ginny says calmly as if nothing has happened, just as Ron turns to Hermione. “It’s not really a rumor, don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t… worried.”

Ginny gives him a sympathetic look. “I know you don’t like when people talk about you. And there’s been some gossip about the break up, but… no one mentioned your nome at all, that was just Luna mixing things.”

“Luna?”

“Yeah.” A pink flush colours her cheeks. “When I told her I wasn’t dating Dean anymore she said she was glad you and I had finally decided to declare our feelings for each other.” It takes a beat longer than necessary before Ginny shakes her head at him, clearly intending it as a joke.

Harry breathes slowly. Luna always saw better than anyone he ever knew, but if only she was right on both sides this time… “That’s Luna,” he mumbles. And because he doesn’t want to be questioned about Luna’s usual brightness, he adds: “Gossip is bothering you?”

“It’s just Hogwarts, soon this will be old news.” She sighs, standing up and gathering her things. “I don’t know why people are even interested in who I am dating, honestly.”

Harry blinks, looking around with sudden mistrust. The fact that Ginny is single now has been very well registered into his brain — and heart — but only now he realizes that everyone else knows it too. And he is not, by any chance, the only one that might be smitten with her, that might realize how funny and gorgeous and charming she is… If someone else asks her out first, if someone else is smarter — and braver — than him…

“Ginny—” He calls, suddenly desperate; she turns back to him at the same time Ron lets out a laugh about something Hermione is saying, and then Harry's courage falters him. “See you later at practice?”

Her lips twitch, amused. “It’s Monday, Harry, we have no practice today.”

“We—we should. I mean, Katie is back and the final match is coming—” He glances at the books on her hand. “If you can, of course.”

“You are really asking me to choose between my education and a few hours outside?” Ginny grins at him. “You are the worst influence, Harry.”

He has to smile. “Considering you grew up with Fred and George, I doubt it.”

Her eyes widen for a brief moment before Ginny laughs. It’s not possible with all the morning talks around them, but he swears he can hear every note of her laugh, can separate the bells of her voice from every other sound in the hall.

His heart beats in tune with her laugh.

“You are right." She admits. "See you later.”

And Ginny winks at him. Harry watches her go, lips trembling with the unsaid things he wants to tell her, and then —

“Oh, damn it,” he curses, picking up his things, and ignoring Hermione’s knowing look (she could team up with Luna, Harry thinks grimly). “I need to go schedule the field for practice tonight!”

[dykeomania]

i know farm ellie is a pretty big thing, but i’d like to imagine ellie happy, somewhere in the pacific northwest with two huskies and a guitar and some peace and quiet. she grows shit in her backyard though her girlfriend is a better farmhand than she’ll ever be, and makes a lot of soup because all you have to do is throw a bunch of shit in a pot and pray, so it’s one of the only things that she can actually cook. she captures walks to waterfalls and scenic hikes on 35mm film and within stanzas. she lights bonfires and sits with jesse, and joel, and dina, and tommy, and maria, singing songs and toasting marshmallows between flurries of laughter and nostalgia. i’d like to imagine the nights that joel comes over for dinner, and decides to stay the weekend. i’d like to imagine the hikes they’d go on. them hunting together, and having the venison for breakfast with eggs the next morning. the steam rising from joel’s designated mug, and the crackle of a distant fire in ellie’s fixer-upper forest home. i’d like to imagine her flannels, and her denim jackets, and her carhartt beanies, and her hoodies. her kinda standing in front of windows whose sills are lined with framed photographs, taking everything in. smelling of rain, and earth, and spice. feeling whole and grateful, for a life that runs like the stream not too far from her well adorned home — calmly with rough tides far and few between, easing eventually but gently into the sea.

[singularsoldier]

“Ao3 has many problematic works and shouldn’t be used as one’s sole source of literature” and “ao3 is a fun site to indulge in AUs, OCs, and ship content that can’t be drawn and deleting it would delete endless amounts of effort put into each fic”

[briannadeberry]

#sneakpeek Ghosted. Coming tomorrow! . . . #Ghosted #shortstory #original #unedited #unrevised #mywriting #sneakpeek #firstlook #comingsoon https://www.instagram.com/p/CVqwIdmLIyY/?utm_medium=tumblr

[tetsusgoing]

Kuroo loves loves loves Sunday mornings. He loves waking up next to you and staying in bed later than usual. He loves making breakfast with you, making your coffee/tea the way you like it. He loves the warm February sun that comes into your apartment, and makes him feel like everything will be all right. He loves getting stuff done when you're both sitting in the office together, it also gives him the chance to make sure you're not procrastinating. But most of all, at the end of the night, when you're making dinner and dancing around the kitchen, listening to some sappy romantic music, he loves you.

[susan-gampre]

Rekindling

                            The following story was a collab RP between                            @edwinxerathi @eilitheduskbringer and myself!                              It has been formatted and written in the third                            person for the full effect of everyone’s roleplay                                                        contribution!

       Music

“Susan.”

The voice was soft though affirming, an aim to acknowledge the lazily lounging Madam who had taken to simply resting upon the sidewalk, just outside of the PIg and Whistle Tavern. There was some issue regarding the Madam’s lack of sufficient strength to maneuver her chair up the many steps separating the sidewalk from the business’s entrance.

Despite the sudden remark in her direction, the Madam did not stir from her posture. She was, after all, comfortable. Which was a rare occurrence in her week since returning home.

She had remained with her chin in her palm, elbow resting atop the appropriate arm of her wheelchair. Heavily she was leaned back into the cushion wheelchair’s back, her posture stiff with her left leg crossed over her right thigh. However, despite her no attempt to look toward the speaker right away, the Madam sprouted into a tempered smile, humming in response, "You know... I came here specifically in the hope that I would see you, dear Eilithe. I'm content that things have worked out for me in the end, I haven't even been waiting long.”

Eilithe remained where she was- averting her eyes to the stone across the street.

The kaldorei procced to rub the fingers of her tattooed left hand together, "Oh?" Her words came out tensed, swift to clear her throat, "I am glad you are alive, Susan." 

Unbeknownst to either woman, from down the street strode forth the snazzily dressed Edwin Xerathi, his lips tugged upward into a half smile in acknowledging toward the tigress as she leaped from her place of rest. Anthrel immediately began to chuff, nuzzling and prodding her maw against Edwin's hand.

Susan lifted her chin from her hand at this moment, pressing her weight into both elbows now pressed atop the cushioned arms of her chair, shifting herself around in the seat, hands now dropping down to gather the extended spokes attached to her chairs larger wheels, beginning to coax herself around to better face Eilthe-- And the kaldorei acknowledged no startling changes of the Madam. In fact, the only difference to her was tanner skin and bleach, shortened hair.

Instead, Susan was invested in Eilithe, remarking rather bluntly: “Let's speak in private.”

To which the kaldorei hesitated, the doubt in her gaze not so easily hidden from Susan. Eilithe reached with an almond pointed nail and plucked at her lip, the gesture odd to the Madam-- though Susan made no effort to linger on the gesture.

Lingering her gaze too long on Susan was not something the elf wished- if only because she feared there would be something beneath the surprising normalcy of Susan's appearance.

"Lets," Eilithe agrees, crossing towards the back alley. "The Tea House, then."

Susan would begin to coax her chair along, turning to finally notice Edwin-- and for a moment she'd pause, simply staring toward him in that of astonishment. She most certainly was not expecting to see him of anyone this early in the evening.

He seemed to notice her hesitance, bearing a charming smile before motioning toward the Madam, inquiring, “Need a push?“

Instantly Susan smiles, hands moving from the wheels of her chair to fold atop her lap, gaze drifting from her father figure to the woman hesitating at the mouth of the alley, "If Miss Eilithe does not mind the company?" 

Eiltihe’s eyes made swift work of inspecting Edwin once over, her tone curt, "It does not matter to me."

And thus the trio -- including the grumbling tigress trailing behind down the narrow alley -- proceeded into the dark and shady way of Old Town district, quickly coming up a shop of which Eilithe jogged up the few steps leading toward, procuring a key to unlock the door. Quietly leering over her shoulder the Kaldorei would advise Edwin before entering the shop, "If you tilt the chair..,” she trails off, motioning toward the stairs, “The steps are small."

Dread filled the Madam’s tone as she clung for dear life to the cushioned arms of her chair, “Oh good-- I always loved carnival rides.“

From behind her came the hearty, masculine laughter of Edwin-- who had taken it upon himself to prove both his mighty machoness as well as Susan’s overall thinness, easily plucking her entire chair into his arms before entering the doorway. Once within the shop would the chair before rested back on the ground. And only then would Susan let out a breath of relief -- such a breath she wasn’t aware she was even holding.

Eilithe went to shut the door behind them.

In this moment... The human duo would marvel the space of the business they’d been invited to. The Tea House was set up something like a traditional Panderen one- floor tables and pillows. To Susan it brought a sense of warmth and home, the Brothel having been quite similar in homely aura in some parts.

Quickly Edwin would motion to himself, nodding toward Eilithe in a formal introduction, “Edwin, by the way.”

Eilithe shifted her dark eyes passing to Edwin, remarking shortly, "Eilithe Duskbringer," before she passed toward the counter, offering her guests, "Coffee, tea? Alcohol?"

Susan made no effort to prey upon Eilithe’s hospitality, politely shaking her head-- whereas Edwin would immediately jump toward the opportunity with a, “I'll take some coffee if you don't mind.“

Eilithe crossed around the counter and put water onto the stove, beans in the press.

Bam. Coffee on the way.

Turning her dull eyes, Eilithe fixed on Susan.

"So."

The Madam’s lips pulled into a firm line for a moment, the elf’s voice echoing in her mind for but a moment. So...

So, Eilithe, I’m sorry I didn’t put use to your boyfriend’s defense system.

So Eilithe, I’m sorry you felt responsible and took in my employees while I was gone.

So, Eilithe, I’m sorry I can’t reciprocate your hospitality any time soon.

So, Eilithe, I’m sorry... For so many things.

Slowly the woman pulled herself from her thoughts, preventing herself from spiraling out of control whilst fixating on the elf’s own strong, unwavering gaze. And instantly, the moment Susan opened her mouth, she made the effort to just get the ball rolling.

An apology and thanks were first in order.

“Since my return, I've found myself lacking that desire to beat around the bush, Eilithe. -So-, first and foremost, I'd like to thank you personally for the hand you had in transporting my employees to a safer location upon the misfortune that became the brothel in my absence.”

Midst their conversation Edwin rubbed his hands under Anthrel's cheeks, smiling as he lowered his forehead to nuzzle the feline's. The friendly, dotting gestures were reciprocated by the tigress eagerly licking and nuzzling the human male in return.

Eilithe stared at Susan, not so much cold as she was expressionless. She had undergone her own changes in Susan's absence. "My family keeps their word, Susan- else there would be no weight when I give it. Do not thank me for upholding it." 

The Madam’s chest tightened, a thick lump forming in her throat so thick it became hard to swallow. Swiftly, she nods once, simply pushing aside that revelation of thanking now that it was said and done. 

A more important matter was at hand, after all.

“I need help. And be it... If -you- can personally oversee such a craft being created, or if you know a person I could refer to in order to help me... Either way, it would be appreciated. “

This seemed to peak the woman’s interest, "That would depend entirely on what needs crafted."

The Madam prepared herself to explain-- but she remembered that doubt she saw in Eilithe’s eyes when they first saw each other again. And for a moment she internally debated if the next course was one she herself was willing to experience--...

And it seemed her mind was made as Susan would begin to reach for the clasp connecting the golden chain of her necklace.

It was as though the moment the chain was disconnected that the vibrant, flashy stone encased in the golden frame lost its color. And too, the Madam's skin grew paler and weathered. Her once healthy display withered into a sunken, gaunt shell of a woman, her bones especially prominent, very little fat filling out her dress as well as she did -before- removing the necklace. Her features became more hollow in more ways than one, her lips dry and cracked, her skin no longer decorated in makeup.

There was no amount of artificial beauty that was not magic that could soften her sharp features. The blonde hair once atop her head was now much dingier and frayed. But the most striking thing about the Madam in that moment... Was the gaping hole where her right eye was meant to be.   Midst the removal of the necklace had Edwin cast a stare unto his daughter as she removed that enchantment. He frowned a bit at his appearance, but from when he first saw her she was still doing better. Slowly he moved back to Anthrel, abruptly averting his gaze back to the female tigress currently nuzzled against his chest, grim in expression.

Susan carefully set the necklace atop her lap, sinking back into the cushions of her wheelchair, looking much smaller now as she does so. Thin lips pulled into a grim smile, her single eye fixating on Eilithe's gaze as she states clearly: "I need an eye.” 

Magic- particularly of the illusion variety, always had a certain weight-- like something hanging in the corner of one's eyes waiting to be looked at. She did not look away from the grotesqueness of the hole in Susan's head- though she did not linger in disgust either. In fact, Eilithe's face changed little behind a flinch in her left cheek- no doubt fro ma grit of the jaw. "Yes- it would appear you do." She cleared her throat, "And would you like this eye to see, Susan or simply be for show.”

“I would like for it to see,” Susan remarked, sure of tone, “I am comfortable knowing there may be limited vision-- I know magic and skill can only do so much. But it's better than no vision at all. If I'm being honest, which I am, it's been horrendous constantly turning my head more than necessary just to see anything over here.”

The wheelchair-bound woman would proceed to wave a hand around along her right side when she mentions 'here'. 

Eilithe clicked her tongue, "On the contrary, Madam Gampre." She gestured, "I would venture to say that I could craft you an eye that sees -beyond- what your eye currently does. In theory, anyway." She ran her tongue along her teeth, "However- given sight to the sightless has a cost. Give to get." She held up her finger, "Equal exchange. In other words, a literal eye for an eye." 

In the midst of Susan and Edwin digesting this share of information would Eilithe take advantage of their silence, adding on: "Unless there's the option of mechanical replacement-- then that, I cannot help you with."

This piqued Edwin’s interest, an eyebrow-raising toward Eilithe whilst he inquired, “So you'd need an engineer to make an ocular device for vision?“

With a nod, Eilithe looked to Edwin, "Yes- I've no knowledge of mechanical things. I would have to enlist one of the harbor's engineers." 

After quietly considering the responses would Susan weigh in with her own question, leering pointedly toward Eilithe, “And that cost is even for having a regular seeing eye, with no specialness to it?”

Instantly the kaldorei turned to Susan, "If you want, a normal," she pressed her finger flat against her eyeball, "eye- squishy, living, and a part of you, the exchange will be from another." She eyed Anthrel, then Susan, "That's the truth of it. We could try different things, animals, but a human’s eye would work best." 

Edwin smirks, looking to Susan. "Want papa to make you an eye?"

The Madam’s hesitation was very noticeable, her lips pursing before murmuring, “It's something I must consider, clearly. My curiosity is peaked in more ways than one. My own creativity has the best of me, has me desiring a tiger eye-- But I know the human is the route I'm most likely to go. Unless you can end up convincing me I need something more than just a regular human eye.”

A whistle of the kettle came from behind her and Eilithe turned to pour out the fresh brew into three cups. "An engineer would be less messy." She opened her hand. "There's a matter of finding someone that will -willingly- give up their eyes for you.. or finding someone who is unworthy of their current set.”

Edwin moves to collect the coffee, remarking, "There are a few people, but the issue is finding an eye as beautiful as my daughter's other."

Susan blinks slowly, beginning to coax the golden chain back around her neck, clasping it together. All the while she wears a tempered smile, clearly amused with Edwin at least.

Eilithe, however, paused and stared toward Edwin with widened eyes, her tone hesitant, “Pardon? Did you say -daughter-?"

“Yes, why?“

For a moment the kaldorei looked absolutely befuddled, glancing to and fro between man and woman- that was until Susan would begin to chuckle, relieving the elf with an explanation.

“He is very dear to me, Eilithe. In such a way that we have simply adopted one another.“

“Oh,” the woman breathed in relief, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment, “That's much less stressful on the brain."

After a long, solid moment of well-received silence would Eilithe lift her cup up to her lips and took one long sip, "Take your time in deciding, Susan-- there are plenty of options at your fingertips."

In this moment would Edwin proceed to offer one of the cups of coffee he had procured from Eilithe’s possession, offering it toward the younger human female. Instantly Susan took hold of the cup, opting to merely caress either side of it with her palms in the effort to warm her frigid skin.

“Clearly,” Susan hums, “And I imagine all very, very expensive routes. What do you think would be the minimum amount required for any of the options?”

“Whatever you pick, I can help too,” Edwin reassured her.

Susan’s smile turned from Edwin toward Eilithe with the Kaldorei’s voice rising up to speak: “If you usedmy engineers, only the cost of parts- should they need something special. I imagine they would. For my craft? Only the price of one eye from another to you. I don't want your money."

The human female nods once, proceeding to sip from the coffee within her cup. The gesture was ginger, slow. An effort to acquire more time in the warmth that was the little tea shop. Of course, once she swallowed her mouthful and lowered the cup the Madam would aim to conclude the small get together with a: "In that case, I'll use the rest of this night to decide. Thank you for listening to me, Eilithe. This has been a great help."

From beside Susan Edwin spoke up, his tone humbled and honest, “I thank you greatly as well. Warms my cold heart to see people helping my family.“

Eilithe passed around the counter and sipped her coffee and nodded, "As I said- I am just glad you are alive. Worry not--the only place for you to go is up."

Susan paused for a moment before she nods once, beginning to offer her cup toward Edwin, "Soon my employees will be out of your hair, as well. I've acquired a small donation put toward fixing the Brothel-- Just as we’ll get out of your hair now, dear.”

Edwin akes the cup from her, finishing his as well wit ha satisfied sigh. He moves to set them on the counter with a soft nod, before going back behind Susan's chair.

The kaldorei looked pointedly to Susan, "You and your people are welcome both in this shop and in Dead Sun." She stared a moment. "Tell me-- what is ten percent of the cost of your repairs?"

Susan narrowed her gaze upon Eilithe, gauging the woman for a moment before replying, “Essentially, that would be no more than five thousand gold. We're an inspired people, and seeking to invest in sturdier walls.“

"As a ten percent shareholder- then you can expect that amount. Five thousand. I must speak with my Surfal before promising you anymore."

The Madam nods once, glancing over her shoulder toward Edwin with a pointed stare before returning her gaze toward Eilithe, offering the woman a grand smile. "Have a wonderful evening, Eilithe. I'll be in touch soon."

And out the door did the two humans leave, their tigress companion trudging after them.

[lysandra-vanburen]

Strengthening Infatuations

The following story was written as a collab rp between @itraeis and myself. It has been edited and written in the third person.

Currently this snippet follows the events of these letters as well as ‘War of Witches’.

                                             Mood setting music.

Viewer discretion highly advised; Mature and suggestive themes below the line.

The evening had been one full of well placed anger, inner turmoil, a sprinkle of misery and a dash of the wrath of a scorned mother. Lysandra Vanburen's bitter mood and deeply rooted maternal instincts had set the entirety of Melstone Estate’s functions into a harrowing halt.

Still Lysandra buzzed with the thrill of the kill but despite the lingering knowledge of having utterly destroyed the witch responsible for her children’s current state of rest... There was still an unsteady shake to her hands, her body swaying and mind consumed with such fury that it didn’t matter that already the enemy currently at hand had not only been apprehended, but Lysandra reasserted herself as the alpha in the situation... At the end of it all she got the last hollowed laugh, so why did she continue to linger on the issue?

Try as she might it became harder to compose herself, fingers flexing and stretching out as far as they were able before curling inward toward the palms of her hands in an effort to steady herself -- though still her body shuffled around in restless pacing.

With every stretch of her fingers had the plants within her childrens’ shared medical room would grow in size, retracting in size as Lysandra’s fingers curled into fists again. She was so consumed with revenge that she hadn’t even thought long enough about anyone beyond the Vanburens -- much less her, admittedly, current interest... Itraeis Holt. The man which last she swore to meet with for a date in her last letter.

Such a letter which had been filled with apologies and promises of a day together, swearing she’d meet him at his current inn some time in the afternoon of the very day and very time she was busy pacing... Such a letter that, with her swearing and promises, carried the details of her boldly printed address: .

Unbeknownst to Lysandra... He had waited out front of the noble accommodations patient as a man could be, despite the passing minutes... Still she never showed up.

An hour went by, then two.

Had she stood him up? Itraeis wasn't sure.

Part of her seemed almost distraught when they met the other night, he acknowledged, and it was true she was startled but that was more so with her own personal feelings drudging up in the presence of such a handsome and flirty younger man...

But the letter she sent back made her seem more than interested? He was conflicted, confused, and his pride a little hurt. But he wasn't about to turn and lick his wounds like some injured dog. He was going to be a man of action!

Connections were made, a few palms greased, and Itraeis had managed to procure travel with a small entourage heading into Drustvar. The address he gave was a slight detour for the caravan, since he didn't have his bike here in Kul'Tiras, and he wasn't overly good at horse back riding, thus he had to rely on his coin and his wit to convince the party to take him on.

But now he was here, at the main door of the addressed estate Lysandra had written down.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the large door, one hand held behind his back as he did so and then waited patiently for someone... hopefully her... to answer.

Her staff were all just as sluggish as the Lady of the House, seemingly too weighed by the troubling future ahead. Often their heads hung in prayer or thought, but they all were wishing for the wealth and good tidings of the currently ailing Vanburen children regardless of their own personal state of being.

Albert and Charlette had easily wiggled their way into the lives of those responsible to care and keep the manor of Lysandra Vanburen functioning, they were the sun and moon... Two opposites that brought light and joy into every instance, they were precious as could be... To think they were currently fighting for their lives was outrageous... All within the Manor were currently miserable, trounced by their concerns.

Jennifer was of no exception, the ginger haired handmaiden carrying a look of permanent exhaustion at all times... Even as her fingers twisted and pried open the door of the Estate’s grand entrance to address who had so boldly knocked against it’s thick wooden frame.

The door would most certainly open if only to expose the droopy eyed and deeply frowning woman dressed in a simple green frock and apron, her orange hair tugged into a rushed ponytail. She stood there a moment, coming to recognize that there was already familiarity to his features... To those dark, inviting eyes. Was this the debonair Lysandra gushed so fervently about merely nights ago?

"My apologies, sir," Jennifer spoke gently, her voice lingering on the edge as tears welled in her eyes, "The Lady Vanburen has canceled all lessons and business this week on account of her ailing children,” she pushed aside the thoughts of his familiarity, clearing her throat, "If you'd like to reschedule a meeting for next week, I can make those arrangements for you?"

Itraeis was taken by surprise. He had come to expect Lysandra had simply changed her mind on their meeting, or at best got caught up some business venture. But ailing children was not something he had anticipated...

"Actually, it was more of a personal meeting myself and Lady Vanburen had arranged. A date. When she didn't appear with no letter or messenger, I thought to just come here and ensure everything was alright...” 

Jennifer's eyes lit up with glee, newfound hope standing before her in his smoldering glory. Instantly she'd open the door wide for Itraeis to enter, exposing a fairly extravagant foyer where once Jennifer was standing, now no longer blocking his view.

“If you could let her know it's me, before we commit to reschedule? Now that I know the circumstance I'd like to, at the very least, see how she fares. And hopefully brighten her day even a bit," he explained, from behind his back he pulled a bouquet of wildflowers.

Jennifer instantly recognized that many of the flowers were native of Drustvar, a beautiful bunch of colorful and extravagant dome as well as numeric shaped flowers which carried an intoxicating smell.

"Do come in," Jen encourages, a hand beckoning him forth, "I imagine her Lady would be quite thrilled to have the support of her beau in these troubling times. Please, allow me to show you to the drawing room and I'll see to it Lysandra is made aware of your being, sir."

"Thank you, you're most gracious," Itraeis praised, pulling out a small purple flower and handing it to Jennifer in thanks.

The main entrance would be closed behind him, thus snuffing out the cold winds carrying through the grounds on this particular fall evening.

He stepped beyond the threshold and immediately soaked in the wonders of the home, taking in the sights of the grand manor. It was, by en large, much more impressive than his. Then again, Itraeis didn't really have his own lands or estate. He was a glorified squatter.

Inside the foyer alone was a rush of warmth, inciting the idea that hearts and radiators were on to challenge the chilly bone nights. The foyer was decorated softly colored wooden walls accented by golden fixtures nailed into the wood, lit candles providing bright, artificial illumination for the patrons of the estate home.

There were three different open archways leading into the east, west and north of the home. From the mere sound of it the east doorway led to the kitchens with clattering of pans and chattering servants being such indication. Otherwise the other doorways were mere mysteries.

On the air was the lingering smell of a calming lavender mixed with rugged, polished leather.

The most pronounced and startling of sights in the entirety of the wide foyer, alas, were the grand staircases leading up and splitting into two, leading up to the second floor.

Near the top of the first set of stairs was the statue of a winged beauty, her hands cradling a dove before her exposed bosom, a haunting look of longing upon her features as she is allowing the winged creature to take flight -- a moment etched in cool, cold white marble which easily matched the overall elegant aesthetic of the home.

It was down the hall beside the right of the staircase that Jennifer would lead the Holt gentleman, her clammy fingers clinging to the offered flower all the while. The walk was a short one, in which Jennifer pushed the door leading into the Lady Vanburen’s drawing room, offering for Itraeis to enter whilst she held the door.

The drawing room itself was decorated by varying animal heads and stuffed bodies. From wild boars to the slinky, gorgeous stoats the room was kin to a forest in its own right, with plants lingering on any furniture that would stand, a magnificent hearth lit aflame casting a warm glow into the room.

Above the heart, too, was the head of the green scaled raptor in all its frightening glory, red eyes staring down toward its marvels with solidified hate.

Along the coffee table set between two Kul Tiran designed couches was a single crystal decanter with water -- or so that was what Jennifer said before assuring her swift return with the Lady of the house. With the decanter were there four glasses stacked upon one another.

The couches were softer than life itself, dark navy in color and providing a splash of oddity in comparison to the earthy tones of the room- from the multicolored brick fireplace to the black bookcase.

It was a butler who hustled in, providing the presumed beau an option for other drinks he might desire, ranging from juices to alcohol of wine and liquor variety, "Do you require anything sir?"

"I'll be fine with the water, thank you." he politely declined. Best not to take up a drink when he still wasn't entirely sure if his presence would be as well received by Lysandra as it was by her ward.

He made himself comfortable on one of the plush couches.

Damn was it comfortable...

He could sink right into the cushions and fall asleep quite easily if he were so inclined. But he was here with reason. So he kept his posture proper, awaiting for when Lysandra would enter so he could rise to his feet and greet her properly.

When the news reached the distraught mother of her handsome visitor, she had been stunned momentarily, meeting Jennifer’s bright features with her own doubtful frown. A bubble of guilt blossomed in her chest and weighed against her so heavily it was getting increasingly hard to breathe...

Itraeis, of course... How could she have forgotten her promise to meet him?!

Turning her eyes toward her son and then her daughter the woman carefully pressed a kiss to each child's forehead, whispering reassurance that she'd be back soon before turning to Jennifer with a more desperate expression. "Watch them?"

"Of course," Jennifer assured, sending Lysandra out of the healers ward with this confirmation.

It was a short trek from the downstairs ward to the drawing room just on the opposite side of the estate, but it was fairly lengthy as each time she'd pause in front of a hall mirror to try and smooth over her frazzled locks and brush away the dark red tear tracks on her cheeks.

Alas, there was a final embrace to her look that came out as a soft exhale of: "Tides help me."

She atleast made the effort and adjusted her frilly neck cream blouse, taking the time to smooth out the fabric and stuff it beneath her dark brown trousers.

Her return home from confronting the Heartsbane witch responsible for her children's current state had been spent worrying for her children. She hadnt taken into account how crazed she must of looked, for while she had changed into fresh clothing she had yet to shower the grime, built dirt and dried blood off her skin.

Not only was she not immediately concerned with her appearance upon returning home, but she wasnt concerned with the prospect of being visited-- especially by a gentleman.

She'd enter the room with flustered cheeks and a rush of apologies jumbled together, her hands held up in defense as she first addressed Itraeis, "Darling I am so, so sorry. Things unraveled so quickly, I forgot our meeting completely unintentionally and I.. I'm not certain how much you loathe me right now, but know that I never intended to upset you, alas my duties as a mother trump what the heart wants at times!"

Itraeis couldn't help but smile at the way she apologized so profusely. He let her ramble away with her explanation while approaching her with the bouquet in hand. Once she had finished with her winded apology, the young lord placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned in to kiss her forehead as he handed her the gift.

"Lysandra, don't worry so much," he said in a comforting tone, "I'll admit, I was a little distraught when you didn't show up and there was no words. But your aid explained in brief that your children were ill. I may not have kids of my own, but I more than understand a mothers duty to her children. I'm just glad to see you're okay, all things considered." His gentle, reassuring smile clung to his features as a single hand raised up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

For a moment the maiden was struck dumb in her astonishment of the gift provided. Her hands took claim of the bouquet, marveling its beauty up close whilst tilting her head forward to admire their smell. Alas, the gentle brush of lips on her skin would stir the woman from her state of excitement and silence.

Golden eyes observed the young Lord in that moment, admiring him mostly whilst the fingers of one hand clung to the stems of the tied flowers, her second hand lifting to momentarily caress the boys cheek. All the while she provided him with a genuine smile, her eyes longing, a second emotion hidden in her irises.

"I'm not okay," she'd whisper in return, honesty thicker than ichor, dripping from quivering lips whilst she slowly stumbled closer to Itraeis, the flowers hanging at the woman's side now as she aimed to nestle herself against his chest.

She felt so vulnerable, reeling back on the incident with her children. It left her shattered, her confidence was snuffed out for the time being... And the only thing keeping her from bursting into a fit of tears was the comfort and warmth Itraeis brought her. It was an explainable feeling but..

It was something she wasnt going to push down and deny when she needed it: The comfort of a friend.

“ Of course not, love, of course not." he whispered.

His arms immediately wrapped around her form-  Once his arms had enclosed around her figure the maiden paused to gesture toward her lingering butler. Instantly he moved forth to collect the flowers, assuring Lysandra they'd be placed in a vase and presented in her room. Thus she indulged in the closeness without fear of squishing her beautiful gift. One hand rested on the small of her back and gave her a squeeze. The other stroked down her hair in long, gentle caresses. He could tell she was far more shaken than even she was letting on. Even if they had only spent one night truly conversing, he appreciated her as a person. Enough so to travel across the isles just to check in on her.

"Would you like to sit for a moment?" he asked, though he still rested his head atop hers and held he close for as long as she desired, "We can talk if you wish. Or I can simply be your comforting shoulder to cry on. Either way, I'm here for you, Lysandra. You need only say the word."

"No, please, sit with me..," thus she'd dare to curl her fingers around the front of his garb as to tug him in tow as she lowered herself into the comforting cushions of the couch, her voice maintianing shaky confidence.

For a moment she’d hesitate, her hands having ultimately retracted and moved to fold atop her lap. Of course he would sit beside her. Although her hands rested in her lap, his arm still remained around her in a comforting gesture. His body turned to face her properly, as she spoke.

Lysandra soaked in the moment as she tried to wrap her head around the generous display Itraeis had put on for her... So valiantly braving unknown territory just to come and visit her. It was charming.

"I'm selfish, dear... Please, I'm but your humble host," she'd remark quietly, aiming to simply bury the pain, "Uhm.. How have you been today, b-besides my mishap in standing you up," she'd provide him a small smile, "Which I am fully prepared to make it up to you, too." 

"I'll be sure to take you up on that then," he teased with a wink in return, "But you need not apologize nor bury your burdens on my account. I'm here  for you,” he took a slight breath, looking the poor woman over as she did her best to hold herself together through it all.

If she needed to talk, he would surely listen. But if she really did just want to forget it all for a time, he'd happily oblige. "But, to answer your question, my day was fine. The ride from Boralus to your estate was quite lovely." he said with an earnest smile.

Bury her burdens... How Lysandra wished it were that simple. There were facts revolving around the story of her family that ultimately led to the disruption in routine for her children that Lys absolutely could not share with Itraeis. And try as she might to prevent it, it hurt her heart thinking of not being open with a man she'd known for only a day. Her infatuations, she came to bitterly recognize, were stronger than she liked.

Damn boyish grin.

For a moment the maiden simply brought a hand up to comb and fiddle with her own hair in an effort to busy herself, distracting her mind by focusing on making herself presentable or at least less like a forsaken.

"No easy feat, the trek from Boralus to Drustvar. I admire your resilience," Lysandra flashed him a small smile, dropping her hands to rest atop the man's torso whilst nestling herself into his side, "I know I talked up the ride quite a bit the last I saw you, though while there is immense beauty in the scenery it can be... A daunting, exhausting ride. So..," nibbling on her bottom lip for a moment the woman would push back her doubts to remark, "If you desire, I can see to it the maids might prepare the guest room for you?"

Itraeis continued to hold on to the distraught maiden as she spoke. A gentle sigh as he accepted her desire to keep quiet on the topic at hand. As was her wish, he would happily serve her as best he can.

"It was lengthy, I cannot deny. But fortunately it wasn't me alone on a steed that rode out here. I traveled with a caravan. A few gold coins and a silver tongue and I convinced them to drop me off here. The company helped. Although these Kul'Tiran common folk are rather rough around the edges, aren't they." he described with a chuckle. “But you spoke the truth the other night. Drustvar does remind me a lot of Duskwood back home. It's oddly comforting, to be in a wood so... spooky. As for the guest room, well I certainly wouldn't say no. In truth... I didn't really plan my way home from here." he admitted with a bashful smile.

Returning to the main city was... Romantic, in it's own. Infact it's what would bring the mother to lean forward and press a lingering kiss to the man's lips.  Alas the affectionate gesture was not long lived, a mere chaste kiss that was followed by Lysandra confessing: "I assure you I am fully prepared to see a carriage readied for you to return to Boralus if you wish to leave tonight or tomorrow, all in all... Your presence here, right now.. It means all of Azeroth to me. Truly, you..," the mother paused for a moment, dropping her gaze toward her hands which lingered atop Itraeis's chest, quite bashful now.

"You've made me happy in such a short amount of time during which... Nothing seemed worth being happy before besides the fact Albert's coma means there's a chance he'll come out of it alive and Charlette's trauma will be healed within months of hard work..."

She'd hesitate, her mind now lingering on her children once more. Then she'd glance up toward Itraeis, "If you'd like, I can see to it you're provided a hot meal and whatever else you desire? I.. I can't promise I will be readily available at all moments, I do not wish to be far from my children long as they heal..." A soft sigh escaped the lords nose as their lips locked for that brief moment. As Lysandra pulled away, a quick nuzzle of his nose against hers extended the intimacy of the gesture if even for a fleeting moment. "I have no where to go anytime soon, darling Lysandra. I can stay for as long, or leave as soon as you desire. Just say the word," he reassured her. His free hand gravitated towards hers that rested against his chest, enveloping them in a caring squeeze.

"Albert and Charlette, I'm sure their recovery will be smooth. I'll look forward to meeting them when the time arrives," he whispered with a smirk, doing his best to keep her mind away from their condition and focused on happier thoughts, "And you need not worry about me. Allow me to join you for breakfast in the morning at the very least and I'll count myself as blessed. Otherwise, be the strong woman I can see you are and tend to your children as you need."

For a moment Lysandra opted to bring one of Itraeis's hands to her lips, skimming across his knuckles before flickering her gaze up to meet his. Itraeis carried a similar smile, now as she wore a teeny, bemused grin, "You were so unexpected... Alas, I'll not linger and doubt what ever has sent you my way. I'll simply enjoy it." "My reasons for coming were simple. You didn't come to me, so I elected to come to you," he answered. He brought his lips to the crown of her head as they sat and conversed, a soft sigh of content escaping him.

It seemed there was a greater meaning to her words. How he'd interpret it was his to decide, all in all Lysandra would provide the man a grand smile.

"Tomorrow we'll share a breakfast and, perhaps, I can give you a tour of the estate? Bring you to see the horses?" Pointedly she was avoiding the idea of him visiting her children.

Both because the kids were in a vulnerable state as was, but to involve a gentleman who's intentions were still unclear to Lysandra herself... It seemed best to keep those thoughts far at the back of her mind rather than drag him deeper into her family life merely based on a day and some hours worth of knowing him.

"Perhaps we'll even put you to work, if you fancy a bit of labor," her eyes twinkled with mischief.

"All of that sounds lovely, Lysandra. Though I'll admit I'm terrible when it comes to labour. To be totally honest, the only calluses my hands have ever known were from that of a sword. So unless you have someone that needs cutting, I fear I will be terribly useless as a laborer," he teased back, offering her a wink in response paired with that boyish smile.

"Awh, fret not dear. Labor for houseguests on the estate grounds includes a majority of time consuming tasks. Often the guests help me with my broodmares-- Cleaning them, feeding them, providing moral support as they're all officially pregnant..." Lysandra had simply guided the fellows hand to rest on her hips, providing him a more impish smile now paired with her lashes fluttering flirtatiously.

She felt like a teenager again, basking in the warmth of her beaus presence.

"Too there is aiding in collecting dinner itself. Often that follows after helping me with my horses, and after polishing the tack for riders who will be eventing in the next week. On more pressing matters, pheasant is on tomorrows evening menu I believe. Too, there are other gathering objectives for the meal in store for us," the woman then provided the gentleman a lavish smile, "Or you could stay here in this drab home and linger in your boredom waiting for the day to drag on?"

With a slight purr the maiden leaned toward Itraeis, tilting her head thus to bring her lips to the boys ear, "If you allow me, I plan to whip you into shape, darling."

Her claim was followed by a titter of a giggle and a well placed kiss to his earlobe.. To his neck... Then to his jaw, then his cheek. Just dotting, butterfly kisses. A great show of affection and the attempt to stir a reaction from him.

A shiver shot up Itraeis's spine as her whispered breath glided across his ear. The peppering of her affectionate kisses brought goose pimples to his skin and the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end.

"Well..." he said with a breathy tone, "...I suppose that does all sound rather fun. And if even a fraction of it is time spent with you I have to resoundingly agree to such terms."

Thrill and gratitude mingled within her mind ince she registered his original statement of agreeance, alas that bonding kiss seemed to only further seal the deal in the older nobles mind. All in all she'd manange a smile midst the kiss, soon to bring a hand upright to rest along the boys neck, her fingers gently curling along the back of his neck, dragging her nails up through his hair and back down in slow manners.. Just allowing her nails and finger pads to gently scrape across his scalp in a comforting gesture

The way her lips glided across his skin, from his ear to his neck. From his smooth jawline to his cheeks. The young lord Itraeis couldn't help but squirm some in his seat as he felt the stirring of his nethers begin from her affections... Alas, he was not one to act as a shy boy.

A hand rose up to cup her cheek so that the next kiss she made was firm against his lips, "I'll gladly let you whip me... into shape, that is." he remarked between breaths of their kiss.

Her lips molded against his own, her second hand gripping at the front of his garb. Between kisses-- that for her were becoming just a smidgen more  passionate -- Lysandra would murmur against his lips: "Then you are mine all of tomorrow, Lord Holt." 

How she lingered in their embrace... She was a fool to cling to being loved so tenderly by a younger man... Alas, she resonated and reassured herself that she so desperately needed the release and relief a mans touch provided. Already she was smiling more genuinely, not quite as angry or grief stricken... 

“Thank you,” she murmurs.

"It's my pleasure," he whispered in response amidst their kisses.

His breath became a touch more labored as his heart beat began to quicken. Excitement ran through his veins as a new lover's lips were against his own. He dared let his tongue slip free in that lusty manner. For a moment she'd hesitate midst their lip lock, her thoughts betraying her as concerns for what would come consumed... Alas, as his tongue broke beyond her lips and mingled against her own had the maiden simply.. Melted.

As her hands curled around the nape of his neck and played with his her, so too did the arm around her shoulder begin to curl long tresses of her hair around a finger. His free hand that still cupped her face offered a slight squeeze as he continued to pull her lips back against his own between breaths and words exchanged.

"An entire day with you... tomorrow... I greatly look forward too." he whispered back.

Instantly she was upon him, rolling her hips in the effort to guid her body upward, pressing a knee atop the cushion. She was a step away from straddling the man, and it was here she would fully hesitate, breaking their kiss ti murmur: "I assure you now... I'm not seeking to romp at this moment, Itraeis."

There was no definitive declaration that she would never lay with him. Just not now.

Despite so, once it was said, the maiden boldly settled herself on the boys lap, her cheeks flustered and eyes searching his for some sign of discomfort. Something to assure her insecurities that she had been reading things wrong this whole time.

"That's good to know, Lady Vanburen. For I'll have you know it takes more to convince me to relinquish my modesty!" he proclaimed with a playful smirk and a wink of his eyes, "You won't get me free of my pants on any less than a third date!"

A devious snicker escaped Itraeis at his own quip before his lips found hers once more. Truly they both knew he was the hunter here. And although his words were filled with the assurances that he was okay with her terms.

They could both feel his biology betray his words. He meant what he said, but that did not change that his body was flooded with desire. With the Lady Lysandra on his lap so, there was no way she wouldn't be very aware as well.

"Of course I won't pressure you, my dear Lysandra. My interest in you does not simply lie in your body."

With a little giggle the woman provided the fellow another kiss, whispering here: "It seems you've provided me with a goal, Lord Holt," before she'd knowingly roll her hips into his-- disguising the gesture as her attempt to draw herself to her feet.

"Oh have I now, My lady Lysandra?" he asked with a knowing smirk, "Well I'm always happy to indulge a challenge."

Of course, immediately his hands would wrap around her waist. Holding her down to stop her from rising to her feet, or so he believed her to be doing.

The instant she was anchored back down into his lap was the moment Lysnadras lips twisted into a massive grin, simply putty in his hand, sinking into his arms and against his body. Her arms carefully curled around the boy's shoulders, her nails of one hand curling and combing comfortingly through his hair.

"I assure you, Itraeis, I'm ever the competitive woman. The mere idea of a challenge thrills me," she'd muse, her lips delicately kissing along from the edge of his mouth down toward his neck, a trail of butterfly kisses left in the wake of her plush, soft lips.

Alas, as her lips came to his neck, she'd begin to nip and nibble at the flesh, careful so as not to harm him.

The poor boy was really no match for this woman. She knew exactly where and when to kiss, nibble, or deny him. He may have been the young buck seducing the cougar, but she was the one who could play him like a violin when she pleased.

Perhaps... he was actually out matched. But he'd never admit that, to her or himself.

"Well then..." he said in a quivering tone as her teeth grazed against the soft flesh of his neck. Once more his skin was dotted with goosebumps and a tingling sensation traveled through his left butt cheek. She had found one of his greater weaknesses. "...you're welcome to try... but I won't... concede so easily." he tried his best to speak the part.

But for every word he said in playful defiance, his body told a different story.

His one hand traveled up the length of her back. One tangled with her hair as if to humbly request she continue her efforts. The other traveled southward along her spine until it dared to take a grip upon her derrière.  And, of course, betwix his legs laid the hard shaft that surely, and unintentionally, prodded at the older lady.

He was no longer a boy, she was no longer his senior. Now Itraeis was only her current fixation, a thing - nay... A man which she so desired to touch... To feel.

Truthfully she wasn't seeking to wake the next morning intimately embraced with the boy, with naked limbs tangled and her bedroom a haphazard tornado being evidence of a romp bred from sexual frustration and genuine desire. No... She simply wished to feel his kisses and exploring hands making a map of her every curve. And quietly she'd express this to him, her words coaxing, suggestive:

"Touch me however... Familiarize yourself," her encouragement was followed by her teeth biting down on the tender spot she had found on his neck, alittle more aggressive in her kisses and suckling, aiming to apply a vicious red love mark in this place.

Too, she made it a point now to tease him so mercilessly, her hips shimmying in his lap, 'unintentionally' and innocently brushing against the stiffened portion of his trousers. A sleek, sly minx in this game of love that liked to play dirty.

"As you wish, Darling Lysandra," he whispered in response, for explore he did.

His hands traveled everywhere. Immediately following her words, his hands stopped what they were doing and found purchase on her ankles as she straddled, and teased, him. In unison they traveled up, along the length of her calves. Meeting the junction of her knee, he then traveled up farther along her thighs.

A firm pressure from each fingertip to feel and experience the tone of her legs. Clearly, a woman who rode horses as much as she, had legs as hard as stone. Once more his grip found her rear, as tight and as toned as any youth. Perhaps even more so.

From her rear, his hands traveled north along the the wide set of her hips down to her waist. His fingertips gave her a slight squeeze at the waist in a ticklish manner, testing to see if she were the sort to fall victim to such playfully torturous methods.

The backs of her knees, the patch of flesh beneath the ankle and before the foot itself...on both legs this caused violent tremors to rock throughout the woman's lithe figure. Too, the small area above her crotch and below her belly button proved especially sensitive, the curves of her sides, as well...

Even the hands clinging to his hair would tense and pull at the dark tresses, whimpering heard from her lips as she fought to compose herself.

Truthfully these shudders were that of a neglected woman, having gone long without a lover she was susceptible to being turn into jelly with the most casual of brushes.

She'd ultimately release his neck from her mouth, opting instead to reclaim his own lips for hers in a tongue twisting, deep lip lock. 

Her kiss caught him off guard for a brief second. The intensity of her desire pleased him, however. It played to both his sexuality and his ego. Each time her body shuddered from his touch, he'd make a note of the spot. A place for him to exploit in the future, if it ever got that far of course.

From her waist his hands traveled further upwards. His fingers touched each rib as though playing the ivory keys of a piano.

Eventually, his hands came to rest just underneath her bosom. His advance halted there for a moment, though he never stopped indulging in her passionate kiss, the pause alone a question in and of itself. Any further and he dared taking this exploration to a more intimate level than it had yet reached.

For a moment even Lysandra hesitated, breaking the kiss momentarily to unravel her hands from his hair and around his neck. Her hands would then collect his before applying a gentle kiss to his lips, murmuring against them,

"And that is second date constellation prize."

As she pulled away and denied him that ample bosom, Itraeis suddenly found himself a bit a flounder as he came back to more conscious senses. That primal lust no longer clouding his mind. He gave his head a quick shake and looked back up at her as she spoke. A tender smile now gracing his features as she spoke.

"Of course, Lysandra," he agreed, his hands returning to her waist.

Now that she was no longer locked at the lips was the moment she was able to freely marvel and admire the younger man.

A hand would reach across to caress one of Itraeis's cheeks, her eyes soft and carrying an expression of genuine mirth.

"Damn you for being so enticing. I've completely negated all sense of manners and proper etiquette.. I'm simply ashamed of myself," she'd chuckle halfheartedly.

"I promise, I won't tell if you don't," he replied with a wink, "No one shall know of how uncouth we act behind closed doors. That is something I'd keep close to the chest anyway. I'm not the type to kiss and tell."

Despite how the heat of the moment began to cool, Itraeis wasn't make any inclination as to willingly let her leave his lap just yet. Looking up at the woman as she looked back at him, he couldn't help but appreciate her beauty. Such refined grace and loveliness was still captivating to the young lord. He wanted nothing more than to let this moment continue indefinitely.

With a small smile the woman leaned forward, resting her forehead against Itraeis's, soaking in the closeness whilst her hands dropped to lay on his chest. "Are you the type to find, bed and disappear?"

Now she had leaned back once again, court trained eyes peering intently toward the fellow, awaiting his reaction and his words... Trying to find hesitation, a lie. As desperately as she desired to... She wasn't willing to get her hopes up with this wonderfully talented and enticing man.

"I've had a share of brief encounters, I won't lie," he admitted to her. It was a rather risky move on his end, to be so bold as to admit to his indiscretion.

"But I also can say with all honesty, I've never traveled across foreign countryside just to bed a fair maiden. You are worth more than cheap wine and easy tricks. You, Lady Lysandra Vanburen..." he spoke, a pause as a hand rose to stroke her cheek, "... you are a women I seek to hold close. Not just bed and vanish before the dawn. Yours is the face I would look forward to seeing in the morning many dawns over."

"Ever the charmer," she'd accuse gently, biting back the urge to jump his bone right then and there. Instead she'd nuzzle her nose against his own before brushing her lips over his, remarking in a hushed voice, "You'll have to forgive me overall... affections, alas, I'm overwhelmed. Essentially it's not a well enough excuse--," she'd quirk the corner of her lips up into a small smirk, nervously beginning to fiddle with the collar of his shirt, "But I... Well when you say things like that," she'd gently jab at his chest, "It gets me all riled up! So shame on you."

Awh, ever the one strong with the words.

"Does that paint me the villain? To manipulate you so. Shall I stop using such a silver tongue to tempt you, my darling Lysandra?" he asked with a playful mirth, "If that's the case. I can certainly stop such honeyed words in your ear. Perhaps my silver tongue could find a better use instead." he added with a wink.

Oh he was a daring one.

Though his hands remained on her hips, his lips now sought to pepper his own kisses against the soft skin of her neck. Even a few nips to return the gesture she offered moments prior.

"Perish the thought," she'd mewl sweetly, beginning to roll her hips into his once again, alas the gesture would simply be followed by the older woman aiming to lift herself from his lap, "If anything I'd prefer more for I am a vain little lady... Though there's alot more I'd desire from you," and with this she'd pause in her standing to remark, "Such as you just laying me flat out on this couch and ravishing me. Alas," smiling for a moment she'd draw off after murmuring, "Tides, what was I saying before..."

It seems his harmless little kisses and nibbles had caused a short spout of loss of memory, triggering a state of thoughtlessness -- unless her thoughts were how she could live in this moment forever.

He did his best to hide his frown, for he didn't want the moment to end either. But despite such devilish words, he did truly wish to earn her trust and genuine affections. Not simply play the seducer and leave her feeling regretful in the morning.

“You know, darling Lysandra, I could lay you down and ravish you whilst also singing your praises. If I were to take you so, you'd deserve everything your heart desires." he paused, leaning in to steal one last kiss, "and I aim to give you exactly that."

Mindfully the mother rose after indulging in final kisses from the fellow. Alas, she'd find it an appropriate time to part, taking a moment to adjust her blouse whilst wearing a small smile: "If you need anything, darling, the servants are prepared to wait on you-- My bed chambers are simply down the hall from your guestroom if during the night you require--," hesitating the woman remarks whilst smiling wrly, "Anything simply seek me out or inquire a servant."

"But of course, Lysandra," he accepted with a charming smile, flashing those pearly whites, "I'll try not to wake you unless absolutely necessary. Rest well."

With a bashful smile the woman promptly excused herself, turning atop her heels to exit the drawing room, instantly acquiring a servant and sending them in to collect Itraeis to locate his designated bedroom. After such, she quickly returned to sit with her babies. 

Itraeis watched her walk away the whole time.

“She has... A great ass..." he said wistfully to himself before letting out a great sigh and following the guide to his chambers for the night.