Characters:
- Belynrath
- Tarrant
- Cirksa
Belynrath is still in bed, the privacy curtains open, exposing the vulnerable young lordling. It seems he readied for bed quickly, as his clothing is STREWN, literally, about the room. A boot here, shirt there. Oh my! His nice leather cloak all crumpled in a corner.
Shadowly a huge elfin figure appears, cape widely hanging to its face, walking in guided by shadows. Light his steps are, those of Tarrant, the Lord of Jaersendo, or well, so he still sees himself. He stops in front of Belynrath's bed, chuckling slightly and mind-whispering, **You left quite a mess, son of my daughter.**
You sense in a locksend, Cirksa's sending falters a moment at the immages and emotions she sees... sweet temptation... she regains her control and center easily enough this time, however. ** That is no greeting, young Jaersendo. **
Belynrath blinks blearily and looks up at the send... at... another send? His eyes take a moment to focus on his grandfather's form, and color rises to his cheeks, **Did I?** His weak, almost timid, reply.
You locksend to Cirksa, Belynrath blinks blearily at the send... at... another send? Unbidden comes a thought, though not a full fledged send, 'Not again...'
Standing there tall and unshaken, Tarrant gives a merely command, **Tell me, what did happen?** he asks, not even turning to look around the room. **It doesn't fit for the heir of House Jaersendo to get lost that easily...** He wraps his arms around him slightly, standing comfortable. **It is dangerous... especially when you don't let your entrance be guarded.** A glance of grey eyes meet a shimmering bootle. **You drunk? Oh, what happened to the great heir of House Jaersendo? <>**
You sense in a locksend, Cirksa's mind turns cold once more and withdraws. If you don't wish to speak to her... ** I grow weary of being kept at a distance and pushed away, young Jaersendo. **
Belynrath sits up, slowly. It's clear he's straining, sending to another. Finally sitting fully, long heartbeats later, he replies, **Lost? Can you give me one question at a time, Grandfather? My head's... fuzzy.**
You locksend to Cirksa, Belynrath reaches out, as if trying to grasp at you, **Don't. I... I'm sorry Cirksa. Grandfather's here, and I can't handle mutliple minds, not this close. It's a strain. Maybe a strain I need?**
Tarrant nods slowly and glances under his dark cape at Belynrath, looking down at him from above. He lets go loose of his arms, wrapping his hands together after his back. He still stands there, like a servant, waiting for Belynrath to mind his manner and greet his grandfather how it has to be. **Yes, lost, my grandson.** He waits some more moments, waiting for time to pass by and then answers, **At least you could mind your manners, young one. You are not in the position to act like that in front of me...**
Belynrath's head seems to clear as the blood dances to his cheeks. **My apologies, Grandfather. In darkness I greet you, and wish that your tunnels are clear. Please sit at my table, and give me a moment to dress.** His mind is scrambling.
From afar, to (Tarrant, Belynrath): Cirksa paces across the River Cavern to the entrance to Jaersendo. Rather imperiously she asks the guards to permitt the entrance of a Noble Ally... and baring protest, continues into those halls.
Cirksa locksends ** ... a moment. **
Tarrant nods slowly and dips a bow. **Clear... tunnels to you, my grandson...** He walks over to the table, moving slowly and elegant to a chair, resting his tall body on one of the chairs. He turns his head again to Belynrath, **Yes, dressed you should get, I have talkings to you to do.** He sends, more an order than a suggestion.
You locksend to Cirksa, Belynrath isn't sure if his relieved or annoyed at that, but feeling your mind nearer, nods in acquistion, **As you will, My Lady. Follow my mind to my chambers, and enter as a friend, and she that courts me.**
Holding his blankets to himself, and still blushing, Belynrath leans forward to pull his privacy curtain closed. A swish, and he's out of sight.
Tarrant sits there, still not showing any emotion and waiting for his grandson to reutnr.
The soft ruslte of cloth, stone on stone, and other vague sounds of dressing can be heard. A muttered curse, a vocal sound, too loud in the silent cave, and the sound of feet on covered stone.
Cirksa does not bother to announce her presence, or to warn the occupants of the room before she simply sweeps through the doorway with a whisper of pale fabric against stone and an expression as devoid of emotion as any stone mask.
The curtain to Belynrath's bed area is closed, and the sounds of dressing, even a muttered curse, can be heard behind it. He must still be dressing.
Tarrant glances at cirksa, not at all surprised that she has entered, so he might be a bit surprised by how she appeared, she might not be in the best mood, so he stands up,. dipping a bow. **Clear tunnels to you, Lady Cirksa of House Juraido.** His eyes meet hers, telling her that she still has to mind what she says, even so they are allies - he just gives her what she gives in return.
Silence behind the curtain, just a moment longer, and then it slides away, and there stands Belynrath, fully dressed. Sorry, Cirksa! His hair is loose, and still a bit bed-mussed. His eyes flick to Cirksa as he greets, **Darkness, My Lady.** Such a simple greeting, but alive with emotion unable to be hidden: nervousness, shame, ...desire/fear/love?
Cirksa inclines her head in a quite formal little bow to Tarrant. ** Darkness, Lord Tarrant of Jaersendo. ** she straightens and folds her hands together before herself adding somewhat lightly ** Something is amiss. **
Tarrant chuckles slightly and shakes his head, his face showing no emotion, just amusement lying in his send, **My grandson had too much of troll brew, or so it seems.** He glances back at Belynrath, eyeing him. **He is still young, I was trying to get some manners to him...** He turns around at his heels and sits down on his old place at the table, offering Cirksa to have a seat as well.
Belynrath seems to wince. Tarrant didn't just say that? Did he? About the Troll.. dung. Well, Cirksa was going to find out sooner or later. Might as well let her think it's a weakness... Cause it's not! Really it's not! Belynrath can't hide the light blush on his cheeks. Here, in his private sanctum, with family, and his... er... Lady Juraido, he's struggling to erect /defenses/ for himself, but caught of guard and just haven woken up... *sigh* It's futile at best.
Cirksa moves to the table and rather elegantly settles upon the offered chair, she glances over at Belynrath and replies softly to Tarrant's question ** Your grandson is young and I wonder if he hasn't taken on more than he can handle. **
Tarrant nods slowly and faces Cirksa. **Yes, I wonder myself too.** He looks back at Belynrath, giving him a slight order. **Get finished and call a slave for tea.** It is a slight angry send. **Mind your manners, Belynrath, or you will never become heir of this house.** He moans and leans an arm on the table.
Cirksa raises a brow ** Perhaps I should leave... this is a.. personal matter. **
Belynrath fights a sharp look and an angry glare. Ordered about in his own room, in front of... Seeing Cirksa ready to leave, he sends quickly, moving to his doorway, **Do not feel you must leave, My Lady, on part of any rudeness of myself and my family. I have not been feeling well as of late, and it is cause for everyone to be tense.** He flicks a glance at his grandfather. Might not be smart to jibe the elder elf, but this is /his/ room, you know. He is LORD here. Right?
Tarrant turns his head to Cirksa, tilting his head slowly. He offers a smile, his hand resting on the table in the calm manner as he always is in. **My dear Lady, you don't need to leave, he just needs some education - and you can watch.** He sends amused. Then he glances back at Belynrath and an angry send slips from his mind. **DON'T ever think you can speak of me like that, I am not even your grandfather, whom you should show respect to, but your Lord, and so these are your rooms, they are inside MY halls.** Oh yes, so he has given the throne to Verlaan it doesn't mean that he still can't be Lord of Jaersendo if he wishes to.
Cirksa purses her lips and stays out of it for the moment, folding her hands in her lap, formal, refined. The perfect picture of a Lady, for the moment. Her eyes are upon Belynrath, however. Watching him with interest.
Belynrath flinches at the harsh send cutting into his mind. Too young to have any kind of resistance against the mental slap, Belynrath turns his face away from Tarrant, his cheeks coloring, his hands clentching. The servant choses that moment to enter, and drop off the tea.
Tarrant looks at the tea and fills a cub for Cirksa, offering her a smile. He doesn't look back at Belynrath, knowing that this young elf has to be reminded of where he stands. He dips a bow with his head towards Cirksa as he reaches her the cub, placing it in front of her, then pourring in a cub for himself, glancing behind the servant as it stands there. **Bring us sugar.** He sends, a bit too nice to a servant for forgetting the best part of it.
Cirksa takes up the cup, curling her fingers around it. ** curiousity is one of my worst vices, and I find myself curious. ** a glance to Belynrath once more. ** an explaination would be helpfull. ** concious echo of her yestereve's words.
Cirksa locksends ** Words of advice, my young friend... 'to oppose a thing is to maintain it' the tighter you tug upon your leash the stronger the resolve of the one who holds the other end. **
What an impact five little words can have on an elf-lad. Belynrath moves to sit. His face is falls to a blank stare. He glances up at Cirksa, questions in his eyes, but no further, before he sits, straight-backed, in his chair. **Explainations.** It almost... resigned?
Tarrant takes his cup and takes a sip, glancing from Cirksa to Belynrath, listening to what they have to say. One hand rests on the table, the other one holds the cup.
Cirksa inclines her head just once in a nod. ** yes. ** she raises the tea cup, inhaling the fragrant steam with a slight sigh before taking a delicate sip. Not being terribly helpful, is she?
No, she's not! She's much easier to deal with /alone/. Belynrath sighs softly, leaning forward to pour himself a cup, noting the servant's exit after she brought the sweetner. **Explainantions of what, My Lady?** Well, is she's going to be difficult!
Cirksa sets her cup down with a precise little motion, spoons a small amount of sweetener into the hot liquid and stirs, impecable manners. ** Yestereve I rather angered the Lady Goumando, Lady of a very powerful House and a dangerous enemy... I would like to know why. **
Tarrant takes another sip, then, suddenly, he stands up, distracted by a send, oviously... He dips a bow towards Cirksa, **My dear Lady Cirksa, unfortunatly my presence can't be here any longer.** Then he turns to Belynrath. He sets down the cub, with a little but perfect click and his cold grey eyes look at him, a bit fatherly. One hand draws up to rest at his grandson's shoulder, **Don't take my words too harsh, but you will know, someday, that my hard lessons are just the best for you, Heir of Jaersendo.** He smiles coldly, but somehow warm at Belynrath, lets go off his shoulder and moves outside the chamber.
Belynrath takes his tea, sans sweet stuff, and sips, trying to hide the grumbled sigh, **I can't presume to know, My Lady.** His eyes move over Tarrant, watching him leave, thankfully. The words do little to assure him. But he nods, dipping his eyes to hide that little rebellious sparkle. He'd rather sit nude in a vat of creeper worms than be polite to Tarrant but, **And I'll thank you for each and every lesson learned, Grandfather.**
Cirksa regards Tarrant thoughtfully, then inclines her head to him ** As you wish, Lord Tarrant. **
Tarrant has left.
Belynrath sighs as Tarrant is /finally/ gone from his private world. His shoulders slump, as if he had forgotten Cirksa's presence, and he closes his eyes, settling his tea cup down with an awkward clink.
Cirksa remains in her stubbornly formal stance. She raises her teacup, takes a demure little sip and lowers it once more reminding you ** I am waiting. **
Wha-? Oh yes, her. Belynrath glances up and finally replies, his mind much less tense, **About Lady Goumando? I... I came back a little... bruised from my training. The hot soak helped, and I was trying to ignore it. But your last grapple, and the cold stones...** He pauses briefly, **The injuries flared up while I was getting ready to head back to my rooms to rest. Lady Goumando offered her healer's services. When I accepted, she led my to her chambers.**
If Cirksa's expression was cold before, it's dropped a few degrees below freezing now. ** Her chambers. ** she repeats. The implication is... well, obvious.
Belynrath nods, his heart almost stilling from the chilly glare. **Yes. My guard was with me. Anyway, her healer tended my wounds, and she offered wine.** He fights a blush, **I wanted to see what kinds of wines they drank, so I agreed. It was stronger than I expected, but weaker than what I'm used to. I played though, letting my mind get fuzzy, hoping to fool her.** He shakes his head, **Then you touched my mind, and when you... I don't know how to explain it... When it feels like I'm where you are, and you're where I am...** He shudders, **It startled her, I think. She kept asking, who was hurting me, then why you would attack my mind, or something. It's a bit unclear.**
Cirksa frowns ** I may have made an enemy last night because of you, Belynrath. **
Belynrath lifts his blue eyes to Cirksa, **I'm sorry, Cirksa. I don't know what to say or do.**
Cirksa sighs and the formal facade cracks a moment, she raises a hand to her temple feeling a headache coming on. ** You will inform the Lady Goumando that I was indeed not harming you, I was simply concerned that you, as a young and somewhat defenseless lordling, might be under attack. **
Belynrath nods and leans back, but does nothing to hide the worried frown on his face at Cirksa's sigh, **I shall, when next I speak to her.** A pause. **Are you feeling well, My Lady?** What tenderness.
Cirksa frowns slightly, looking at you again ** No, I am not. I rather begin to think I have not felt well since first I set eyes upon you. **
Belynrath blinks a few times. It takes a moment before he figures out what hell he wants to say, **My apologies, Cirksa.**
Cirksa shakes her head ** What am I to do with you? **
Belynrath sighs softly, his eyes moving away to flick toward a wall. There's nothing there that could catch the lordling's attention... Why then...? **I don't know, Cirksa.** He mutters cheerlessly, **Strip me down and flog me, I suppose. It seems brute force is the only way I learn things quickly.** Unbidden, memories of Jenesek... beating the living elf-poo from him, somewhere in the dark mazes of the underworld.
Cirksa quirks a small smile ** Somehow I doubt that will help matters... unless you would enjoy it? ** oh my stars, did she actually just tease you? will wonders never cease.
Belynrath can't supress a soft chuckle, flicking his eyes up. Though tired, yes, he teases back. Oh my stars and garters!! **No way of knowing for sure, unless it is attempted, My Lady.**
Cirksa's cheeks color softly and she turns her attention to the table and her tea cup. The lady can blush? An awkward pause and she takes a sip of tea before asking ** Do you love me, Belynrath? ** aye, there's the rub.
Belynrath actually smiles at the lady's color! WOOHOO! Score one for Belynrath. He blinks at the question, his smile faltering. Does he... love her? Well, sometimes? He still she to get her to succome and give him her house, entirely, doesn't he? **That's a difficult thing to answer, My Lady.** Almost hiding behind the title which has almost become a pet name. **There are times... I think I do. Others, where I'm not so sure.**
Cirksa sends to her teacup, words an almost distracted monologue ** You have become a distraction, Belynrath, a constant intrusion upon my thoughts. It is no comfort that I came to this situation of my own violition. ** she raises the cup, takes a slow sip of the warm, sweet liquid. ** I... am not sure what I should do, though I suspect. **
Belynrath leans forward, head tilted to the side. **I have always been as honest as I can, barring some intimacies, since this began, My Lady. Any question you asked, I answered as truthfully as I could at the time. As confused as I was, I think, you are now. If you need time, space, in which to think...?**
Cirksa turns and looks at you once more, a small frown and her eyes narrow as if they would peer through you ** Do you know me, Belynrath? I am no soft lady, no yeilding serving maid or dew-eyed girl child. I do not have time for romance.**
Belynrath snorts almost and hardens his once softening features. **Then why bother, Cirksa? Why waste your valueable time?** His eyes are cold, that distant again, like in the beginning.
Cirksa looks away again. ** why indeed. ** an almost weary sigh and she sinks back in her chair with her teacup. Her eyes drift closed and she sends more privately.
You sense in a locksend, Cirksa sends a memory... deeply personal and private... all sensations and emotions. An odd sensation of seeing yourself through her eyes, so young, so handsome... despite the Lady's hesitations... there is part of her which is very certain of what it wants. ** I too can feel desire. **
**Then... do you love me?**
Cirksa replies honestly ** I don't know. **
Belynrath nods. He falls silent, sitting back in his chair, lifting to take a drink of tea.
Cirksa locksends ** I will not lie to you, Belynrath. You are likely better off without me. **
You locksend ** I tried that already. Three months. I don't think I could have waited another heartbeat to feel your mind. ** to Cirksa.
Cirksa releases a slow breath... such an odd sensation... and the strength of desire...
To Be Continued...
