20th Sun's Height, Late Afternoon Jehanna, High Rock [hr] The room was all but silent. It was simply the sounds of silver being polished in the corner by Shona. Today she wore a yellow dress and sandals, and her hair had been styled quite fashionably into two burns. The Lady had allowed it, for today the Lady was excited. She had received a gift again, another white box, wrapped with black ribbon - bigger than the last box too. In between adding more polish to her cloth, she stole glances at Raelynn behind her desk, writing. She had been writing for hours — that wasn’t unusual for her, but today she had very specific writing to be done. Not that Shona really understood it, just that whenever Raelynn took out her accounts book she always seemed sour about it, but today she was rather pleased. Shona turned back to the silverware and left her Lady to it. Raelynn too, observed Shona. Watching the care she took with any and all of her belongings, even the minor things, like books, she took great care to dust and put away back to their shelves. There had never been torn or creased pages when they were in the maid’s gentle hands. She was just grateful to be here, and so every now and then Raelynn let her dress as she pleased. As well as the white gift box, there was a row of items lined up across the desk - each also sitting in a box and amongst some paper padding. A clock, a teapot, a steel blade adorned with jewels, and a rather stunning choker necklace, finished with black lace and ruby. Across the parchment, she detailed each. The sun of late afternoon warmed her back, and she sighed against it, stretching in the seat happily in a powder blue shirt that seemed to further bring out the blue in her eyes, instead of the usual cold tones that emphasised the steel grey. Her hair, relaxed and past her collarbones in styled curls - as if they were setting to be styled again later. A candle burned on the desk offering a rich amber scent into the room which was far more exotic than her usual floral perfume. Her quill scratched at the parchment when the knock at the door came, and she glanced up - meeting Shona’s gaze. She didn’t need to speak, the girl was already to her feet and answering it. She hung her head as usual, this time less surprised to see two pairs of feet, but still smiling to know that it was Fjolte. The Nord entered first, covered in dirt and blood still from the tomb. He and Gregor had slept it off, but the exhaustion was still present. His face was smeared with mud, hands scratched and scraped - and Gregor’s condition was hardly better. The legs of Raelynn’s chair scraped across the floor as she stood, her expression that of immediate concern. “Fjolte,” she said, nodding at him, and then briefly meeting Gregor’s gaze with her own, “Mr. Mercurius.” That immediately annoyed him. After all that had happened between them, he was back to being Mr. Mercurius now? Maybe she was just toying with him, he reasoned, and forced himself to calm down. Gregor sighed almost imperceptibly and handed the potion satchel, with plate, back to Fjolte for him to hand to Raelynn, but not before pawning something wrapped in crumpled paper from it. “Miss Deserine,” he said and inclined his head respectfully, clasping his hands -- and the mystery object -- behind his back. “Raelynn,” Fjolte began as he stepped over to her desk and let the satchel drop onto the surface - almost on top of her gift box, and almost sending the clock flying off. “It’s in there.” She frowned, swatting him out of the way with a hand to take the satchel herself - placing it down much more carefully. “Careful, you brute,” she said, slapping him gently too, with a smirk, even if his lack of regard was of concern to her. “What happened? You both look terrible,” she sighed, stepping forward and closer to the two two of them, her own delicate appearance a direct contrast to them both. She looked to Gregor, not wanting to meet his eyes but still she inspected him from head to toe. “Are you hurt? In need of any help?” “The tomb wasn’t empty,” Gregor said curtly. He reconsidered his plan of giving her the object he held behind his back, what with the way she was treating him, but he found that his defiance was cut down at the knees by her beauty and his desire for them to be… friends, again. “Fjolte’s shoulder needs to be looked at, even if he might never admit that himself,” Gregor said and smiled when he looked at the burly Nord. He then thought about himself and what evils the Daedroth’s claws might have left behind in his side that he, not being an expert healer, couldn’t know about. “And... I suppose my flank could do with a check, just to make sure the potions and I didn’t miss anything.” She first approached Gregor, rolling up her sleeves carefully - the silk frills being tucked away again so that she was free to work. She could tell which side bothered him, and she stepped around, placing her two hands there, blood and gore did not seem to bother her. She could already sense a tenderness there, but not anything that would kill him. After her brief inspection, she moved to Fjolte, looking at his shoulder too - a dislocation that would be easier to mend than Gregor’s internal wound. “I can’t do you both at once,” she commented, which caused Fjolte to raise a brow when she wasn’t looking. “Shona,” she spoke quietly over her shoulder as she continued to move around the room, gathering several files from various shelves. “Please take Gregor for a hot bath, add a tonic to his water and bring him back to me when you’re done.” The girl nodded and stepped beside Gregor, still unsure of the older gentleman, but she would do as she was told. “Fjolte, take off your shirt and sit.” Raelynn said, carrying on with her duties as Shona began to try and usher Gregor outside of the suite. Gregor cleared his throat and held up a hand to Shona. “One moment, please,” he quietly said to her and stepped up to Raelynn’s desk, where placed the wrapped object on the wooden tabletop. “I don’t rightly know what this is for, but you’re an alchemist and I seem to remember that this is a valuable ingredient, so… here,” he said and rolled back the paper to reveal what it was. “A souvenir from the tomb’s guardian.” It was the still-beating heart of the Daedra, larger than a man’s and purple to boot. It immediately took her breath away, and visibly too. She stopped in her tracks from her routine, and clinical motions. Even Fjolte, who was half out of his shirt stopped to look at it, curious as to how and when Gregor had retrieved it. But, there wasn't much of the way out of the tomb he remembered. Raelynn brought her hands close to it, but didn't touch it - instead, just let them hover over the moving flesh, her eyes widened with wonder and her lips curled. "It's… Thank you, I…" she stammered. "Thank you Gregor," she said eventually, meeting his eyes properly, no quick glances for etiquettes sake, a real, raw look. "Well, I got this!" Fjolte said, breaking the silence as he indicated to the new weapon that was propped against his chair. That look. The way she'd forgotten her words. Over a piece of meat? He frowned. “You’re welcome,” the Imperial said, his voice having softened a little. He held Raelynn’s gaze for a few seconds, his eyes alive with an unidentifiable emotion, before turning back to Shona and allowing her to guide him out of Raelynn’s chambers and towards the bathroom. Gregor glanced at Fjolte and saw the frown there. Immediately a pit of guilt formed in his stomach and he chided himself silently under his breath once the door was closed. “Lead the way,” Gregor said to Shona and conjured up a warm smile for the loyal servant. It was only the next room. Raelynn had taken that as her own private bathroom. The bathhouse of Jehanna was fine, but she preferred to stay close to home. Of course it wasn't just hers, she let her associates wash there after a successful job. As Shona opened the door, the scent of lavender seeped out, and a long table was revealed to be covered in various glass bottles and cases of creams and lotions. A centrepiece of roses sat too, offering colour and their scent. A large bathtub sat in the center of the room by a hearthfire, and Shona busies herself with lighting it and preparing the bath. She examined several vials along the table, settling on a golden coloured one which she recognised as a masculine perfumed oil that Raelynn had made herself. It wasn't the same as she would use for Fjolte - his was pine and chestnuts. This scent was, richer - like firewood and fresh earth after rain. She tipped it into the bathtub as she began filling it with the hot water. She waved a hand at Gregor as the water filled the bathtub close to the rim. She swept her hands over her own dress and flung them outwards. [i]Undress.[/i] While she waited for him to get into the water, she moved to a drawer, removing a roll of tools and combs. Gregor wasn’t used to servants tending to him in the bath, but given the gauntlet that he had been through, he decided he wasn’t against the idea. With a few winces and soft groans of complaint he slipped out of his blood-stained clothes and armor, and tutted at the sight of the fabric, leather and chainmail pierced where the Daedroth had tore through him. The chainmail, especially, wouldn’t be cheap to repair, but as he fingered the small holes in the metal he decided that it wasn’t urgent enough to demand immediate attention. He suddenly remembered that Shona was waiting for him, he put down his clothes and stepped into the hot water. His side was still caked with dried blood and it was an immense relief to feel that being washed away. “Are you going to groom my hair?” he asked Shona and turned his head to look at her so that he could see her response. Shona nodded and smiled, unbothered by his nudity. She brought her stool and gently put it behind him and took her seat. In one hand she had a cloth which she used to carefully dab at his face -- wiping away the dirt with the water, letting it dampen his hair before she began to comb anything. For now, he could decide for himself how comfortable he was with it. But her washcloth continued down his cheeks to his neck in steady and firm movements. He hadn’t been washed like this since he was a child and memories of his mother singing to him in the bath jumped back into his mind. Gregor smiled at that. Normally he would have considered this undignified -- a man could wash himself, thank you very much -- but he was so exhausted that the reminder of simpler and carefree times was welcome. He rested his head against the rim of the bath and closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly and trying to work the tension out of his limbs. She was pleased to find little resistance from Gregor, and so she continued on. Running the comb through his hair to remove tangles and knots. She combed gently until it was smooth and soft, and then applied an oil, massaging from the roots down. Her fingers pushed and rubbed around the back of his ears too and she could feel him easing up and relaxing. Once his hair had been treated, she slipped around to his side, taking his hand into hers. She picked up a soft bristled brush, and lathered it with soap before carefully running it over his nails, to remove the blood and dirt from his nail beds. She barely looked at him, just at the work she was doing. Her mind on the task at hand. Satisfied with his clean hand, she took a second washcloth and worked his arms into a lather too. Her head tilting from side to side until she caught the tattoo on his forearm, it was about the only thing that really stirred her from her work and she smiled at it, being more gentle over the top of it - worried she might scrub it away and down into the water. He’d noticed her slowing down for a moment and opened one eye in time to see her smiling at the tattoo. Gregor wondered how often Shona got to go out and meet new people and hear new stories and he observed her silently for a moment before he spoke up. “That’s my wife,” he said, his voice a low murmur in the quiet serenity of the bathroom. “We were traveling to the Imperial City for my father’s business. It was a beautiful day, in the spring, I think. The sun was out and there was a warm breeze across the Niben Bay. We were crossing the bridge to the City, she was walking in front of me and I thought to myself that she was the most beautiful woman -- hell, the most beautiful person I’d ever seen. I promised myself that I would remember that moment forever.” The maid withdrew her hands from the bath, and from Gregor, she placed one hand on her chest and rubbed it back and forth before balling it into a fist with a smile. [i]Beautiful[/i]. Shona enjoyed his story, and showed as such by bringing her hands together, as if in prayer and bowing her head just so to him, [i]thank you[/i]. She took the brush into her hand again, and moved herself to his other side, her brown eyes softer than usual at having listened to his love story. It was hard for him to tell what her sign language actually meant, but the truth was in her facial expressions anyway. Gregor smiled back and then felt a deep pang of sympathy for the girl. Fjolte had explained the circumstances of her employment for Raelynn, of course, but Gregor hadn’t seen her treat the girl any differently because she was a mute. Maybe Shona appreciated not receiving any special treatment. That said, Gregor couldn't help but wonder if she was truly happy. There were a lot of things that Shona would probably never do or experience because of her disability. He settled back into the bath and resolved to express his gratitude for her good service properly when she was finished. With the same brush, she worked on Gregor's other hand - slowly cleaning it all away for him with the same technique. To lather, to brush, to massage. When she was finished, he seemed to be far more relaxed, and the water was darker but he was clean. She stood up from her stool and busies herself with folding his spoiled clothing. Placing it in a neat pile before removing from the towel shelf, alternative folded garments. Completely plain but comfortable looking. She let them sit on the table, taking in her arms the chainmail and armour pile - or as much of it as she could carry. The pace with which Gregor helped himself out of the bathtub would have made a snail look like a Khajiit skooma addict in desperate need of his next fix, such was the state of his relaxation. He dried himself off with a towel, eyes half-closed, breathing in the pleasant scent of the tonic that Shona had selected for his bath. It was a good choice. It made him [i]feel[/i] handsome every time he smelled it. The clothes were soft and clean and therefore wonderful. After Gregor slipped into them and looked down on himself, clad in a white, loose-sleeved shirt, cream-colored trousers and tan gentleman’s shoes, he thought he looked like a villager from Cyrodiil about to celebrate the midsummer festival and chuckled. Shona nodded in approval at his new clothes, and the radiance he exuded after the bath. She didn't stare at him for too long, and there was nothing salacious in her eyes when she did. Her eyes were too innocent for that. She did, however, swing the door open for him - gesturing for him to return to Raelynn's chambers with her hand. Before he left the bathroom to rejoin Fjolte and Raelynn, Gregor paused to grab Shona’s hand. He brought it to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “Thank you,” he said and took her hand in both of his, “for your excellent care. It’s been a rough few days, but now it’s like nothing even happened. I shall be sure to pass my compliments on to your mistress.” Shona looked up at him, a slight blush appeared on her cheeks and she nodded at him in response, smiling again - but bigger this time, before leading the way quickly, bashfully, down the hall. [hr] Gregor might have been led away from the room, but he hadn't left. Not really, he was there in that heart on the desk that Raelynn continued just to stare at. Not touching it, just watching. Her expression was one that Fjolte couldn't read, he just observed her in the silence - how her clean fingers hovered over it. It was like she wanted to hold it to but the gore around it prevented her. "Raelynn," he said at last, clicking his fingers which seemed to bring her back from whatever deep thought she'd been lost in. "We found the plate." He uttered, frustrated that she still wouldn't look at him, it was gnawing at him -- that look the two of them had given each other. Over [i]that[/i]. The Breton lifted her chin to see Fjolte, his eyes narrowed as he sunk down into the chair, shirtless. He had a physique that seemed like he'd been carved from stone. Solid, proud muscle that was made more severe by whatever it was that bothered him so much. But he was tired, and she didn’t want to press it with him. “I know you did. You did a good job,” she breathed with a smile before stepping towards him, hands bare and golden. He rolled his neck and then his shoulders, watching her still. How her eyes darted around the room and always landed back on the heart on the table.”Put that thing away,” he said - feeling a sudden brashness rising in his chest. “I don’t want to look at it,” he breathed in a way that was less sharp, averting his eyes from Raelynn. She almost saw fit to scald him for it, speaking out of turn - so crude of him, but… It was still living flesh from a creature he’d presumably fought. She chalked it up to that and did as he asked. She picked up it carefully, well aware that Fjolte was watching - even if he tried to hide it. The way it felt as it beat in her hands was… She turned her back and released a shuddered breath, locking it away into a drawer for now. “Thanks.” Fjolte said bluntly, resting an elbow on the arm of the chair, tucking his hand under his chin. He felt proud, strong, and his arm and shoulder flexed as he gripped hard on the chair with his other hand. Raelynn knew that she had to soften him, and so she began again - warming up her hands with magicka, mustering some inner warmth in her spirit too. “Alright then,” she said, moving towards him, trying to catch his eye again. “How can I help you?” she asked him, making her voice intentionally thick and overly feminine. That got his attention, his brow quirked and he lifted his chin from his hand, softening his fist too. He hadn’t realised it was balled like steel. “My shoulder…” he mumbled, but before the words had left his mouth her hands were on him and he gave a sigh of relief. “Mmhmm… Right there” he moaned, tipping his head back to look her in the eye. “What was in the tomb, Fjolte?” she asked - her voice barely a whisper and her eyes aglow with the gold magic that left her hands. She worked them across his shoulder, massaging him firmly. She had an alarming amount of strength in them, for being so petite and delicate. If he had been feeling any bitterness, it was washing away now with every stroke of her hand -- and he realised that it had all been exhaustion and leftover delirium. “Gregor said it was a Daedra. It was huge,” he uttered, his head rolling from side to side under the touch of Raelynn’s hand. “Mmm, and you fought it?” she asked, nipping her fingers into a knot that didn’t seem to bother him. Fjolte groaned as her felt it unfurl, “yes. We both did, chased it up to high ground then teased it over the edge. Gregor’s magic…” he continued on, exhaling a long breath from his nose as he struggled to keep his eyes open. “He killed it with lightning and it fell… Then we escaped. It was huge, so, so huge… Breathed fire.” “You’re so brave,” Raelynn cooed close to his ear which sent a chill down his spine. “I’m proud of you,” she added before releasing a stream of energy into him from her hand - leaving it free of her spell to play with his hair. He liked that. He’d never felt her be this way with him -- whatever she was whispering in his ear, Fjolte believed it. “Yeah… It was so powerful and strong. It tried to throw me from the cliff we were on but I punched it… Broke it’s elbow or something and so it just flipped me over. Gregor launched ice at it like I’ve never seen before and it tried to run away after that but we wouldn’t let it…” he said, only slightly changing the story. “Wow,” Raelynn whispered, her eyes widening, impressed. “You’re very strong.” “Mmhm” he answered back. “Didn’t see him pick up that heart though, didn’t know he had it…” So he was still stuck on that, Raelynn thought - he seemed less angry now, sure, but it had bothered the Nord. “But you brought me the plate,” she said encouragingly. “And you brought me a new weapon - that’s old steel, [i]very[/i] valuable.” “No! That hammer is mine,” he responded quickly, fidgeting in his seat as his eyes shot open. In that moment, Raelynn exercised her own strength too, hooking two fingers under his collarbone and with her other fingers she pinched at the vertebrae in his neck. It wouldn’t hurt, but would serve to keep him still. “No,” she replied - authoritative now that the honey in her voice had dried up. “It’s mine. I sent you there, I paid you. It’s [i]mine[/i]. You know our agreement...” This was now less about exercising strength, as it was simply the Breton’s way of reminding Fjolte who was in control. She let go of him. He found himself frustrated again, itching beneath the skin with something but he still rose from his seat. “So pay me.” He said, expressionless, as he crossed his arms over his bare chest. He didn’t know what to make of this. It felt wrong. It felt senseless to be angry over something so minor, he chided himself internally. It felt wrong to be angry at Raelynn, so he sighed and relaxed his arms. “I’m exhausted, Raelynn. I’m sorry,” he admitted. “It’s fine, I know you are. Your payment is over there, three hundred. I counted it myself…” Raelynn said, smiling at him. He nodded back at her, working through everything in the back of his mind. Gregor was a mysterious man, he had been surprised to hear that Raelynn was an alchemist and, his intentions were innocent - to provide her with a rare resource. No matter how disgusting it was. No wonder she was so pleased with it, she’d likely never seen one before… It was fine. [i]”You’re tired, hungry, in pain.”[/i] he reminded himself, exhaling all of his tensions away. “We both almost got killed to that thing, you know,” he explained as he picked up the coin purse - staring longingly at the war hammer against the chair. “If it hadn’t been for your potions, we would have.” “Go home and rest. Come back tomorrow, I want to see your shoulder again and I have… [i]Nicer[/i] work for you,” she said with a smile, hoping that offer would be tempting enough to rouse a smile from him. It was. “Oh yeah? Like what?” he asked, almost forgetting everything now and thinking only ahead, disregarding what had happened to make way for the thoughts of tomorrow. “Oh, can’t tell you that Fjolte, that would ruin my surprise,” she said playfully as she tugged her sleeves free to fall back over her wrists. “But there’ll be no fights with Daedra, I promise.” [hr] The room felt different. Fjolte was already gone, and only Raelynn sat in the centre by her sidetable now. One leg crossed over the other as Shona led Gregor back through. There was a strip of bandaging laid out over her desk, and Fjolte's war hammer was across the desk too, but everything else was much the same. That was, apart from the bottle of red wine, the glass, and the plate of cheese, fruits, nuts, and seafood that was presented on the table. Raelynn watched him curiously as he re-entered, a hand below her chin as her foot swung from side to side. "Do you feel better?" She asked him. “Immensely,” he said truthfully, immediately eyeing the red wine and the cheese with a hint of ravenous gluttony in his eyes. It had taken the bath and Shona’s attentive care for his hunger to finally catch up with him. “Shona is a master of her craft. I’ve already expressed my gratitude to her but you should know that she did an excellent job.” He tore his eyes away from the food and smiled at Raelynn, unsure of how she would behave after the way she had initially avoided his gaze changed so starkly changed when he gave her the Daedra heart. “Where should I sit?” he asked. "That she is," Raelynn replied, smiling over at Shona. Her hand moved from under her chin, and she waved it in a certain way that the girl understood as her being asked to leave. Gregor's things were placed on an armoir, and then the maid quietly left leaving Raelynn alone with Gregor. In the light of approaching dusk, his sickly, exhausted complexion had all but disappeared, and she simply watched him for a while before nodding her head in the direction of the seat beside her. "Come and sit here, you must be starving, please eat." He inclined his head gratefully and sat down on the appointed chair. Normally he would consider it bad manners to start eating immediately after being invited to do so but Gregor couldn’t stop himself. After helping himself to a generous portion of fruits, cheese and seafood, he ate quickly without looking at her, intensely focused on the consumption of nourishment, until he felt like his stomach would have enough to do for the next thirty minutes. Gregor washed it down with a gulp of red wine and sank back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. “That’s better, thank you,” he said and nursed the glass of wine tenderly. It was everything he could have asked for in that moment. Raelynn simply watched him eat, and let him do so without speaking a word. Eventually she stared off into the distance until he was done. She couldn't stop thinking about the heart. The way he'd placed it down, that Fjolte had no idea about it. She held a breath, closing her eyes to reimagine it in her mind. The way she'd felt about him all over again. "You're welcome. From what Fjolte explained you had quite the adventure, it's the least I can do." Her tone was cordial, and yet she there was clearly a wall up in the overly professional way she held herself. That there had only been one wine glass, this wasn't for them, it was for him. "I'm very pleased at your work, Gregor," she added, flashing a semblance of a smile at him. There was seemingly nothing left of the way she’d looked at him after he had given her the heart. Gregor knew that was for the best -- their relationship should stay professional. But he couldn’t help but feel disappointed, and a little hurt. Selfishly, stupidly, he wanted her to be open and warm and attracted to him. This wasn’t any of that. “Quite the adventure indeed,” he concurred and rubbed his flank with his empty hand. He wouldn’t be surprised if the Daedroth and its strange, otherworldly lair would return to haunt him in his nightmares. It was hard to tell now what kind of scars the terror and the exhaustion had carved into his psyche. “I hope it was worth it.” Something in his words cut her, things had been tense with Fjolte, she didn't want it from him too. "It was, to me," she said quietly. His words chipped at her wall and she removed herself from her seat and walked away from him towards the desk and satchel. "I didn't know there was anything else down there," Raelynn felt the need to say it. Gregor didn't like surprises, and the thought crossed her mind as to whether he thought she had known. "If I had, I wouldn't have sent either of you…" Gregor nodded. “I know,” he said, his previous irrational paranoia forgotten. The sincerity in the tone of her voice softened him. Did she feel guilty about what had happened to them? People had strange ways of dealing with guilt. He knew that much. Himself included, probably. “I’m glad to hear that it was, then.” He shifted in his seat and cast a quizzical look at her. “What did we retrieve, anyway? I must admit I have no idea what that object is.” When he asked, she immediately turned her attention back to him and put on her usual smirk. She didn't feel as devious and playful inside about it, especially so when she met his eyes. "It's a moon dial," Raelynn explained, picking it up carefully. "In terrible condition, but nothing a good clean and a bit of restoration won't fix. It's Khajiit, from Elsweyr. It displays information relating to their ja-Kha'jay. The phases of our twin moons determine what form a Khajiit will take at birth… Interesting, isn't it?" She smiled, finding that talking about something else entirely helped alleviate the stifling reaction she had to Gregor's energy. It was, and he nodded to indicate as much. "And I presume it's rare, or old, or both?" he asked. "The tomb, if that's what it is, was a very strange place… built by hands unfamiliar to me and dug deep into the rock, beneath an underground lake. We weren't the first go down there unawares. That is a dead man's hammer," Gregor mused and pointed to the weapon Fjolte had retrieved. He wondered why the Nord had left it there, but didn't pry. “Rare, old, special…” she answered, running a finger across the dusty surface to reveal shining stones in a semicircle. “It’s actually…” she began slowly, shrugging slightly. “I don’t know if I will sell it on.” Her gaze was drawn to the hammer, she had assumed it had been lifted from a corpse - her trained eye could tell it had been used frequently. Light scratches on the surface were an indicator of that for a start. “It’s nice, a piece like that has a history of its own, there is actually a family insignia on the handle.” Her thumb brushed over it, it was like a stamp - etched into the steel. The shape of a bear above a banner. It was incredibly detailed. “I think the owner was of quite a good societal ranking, would fetch a very nice price.” "Especially now that's it's been used to slay a Daedric beast," Gregor said and frowned. "Didn't Fjolte want to keep it?" She nodded, "he did, but the wear on this is too much," Raelynn explained, walking her way back to Gregor, circling him almost. "It needs to be restored properly or any further damage will be irreparable. I'll have it fixed for him…" The Breton took her seat again, it felt like she was sinking into his energy and she blinked slowly as she got comfortable, motioning to the wine, "drink more. I got it for you." "He's going to like that," Gregor thought and smiled. Not one to turn down an excellent red vintage, because that's what it was, Gregor did as he was told and drank more -- he drank until his glass was empty and then he poured himself some more. "Do you want some?" he asked and stole a glance at Raelynn. "I don't mind sharing." Her head tilted as she mulled his offer over, she didn’t [i]want[/i] to. Or, at least she knew it might risk turning the meeting into more of what had already happened… But the way he looked, and his scent, that [i]scent[/i]. So masculine and attractive - it was all too inviting for her to turn down. “I’m not a red drinker,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “But… If I taste it first,” she held out her hand for his glass, something impish crossed her features for a split second and she had to look away from him. Everything about him… It was that heart. She was off her game, she knew it. He caught the way she looked at him, how her demeanour changed, and he felt the same flutter in his stomach that he'd felt on the ship and in her room afterwards. Gregor, still sore and exhausted and desperately in need of some affection, allowed the wine to rise straight to his head. He handed her the glass and tutted. "You're not? That won't do, I'm afraid. If you ever attend a function at the Imperial City you'll find that it's all they drink, and you'll be judged for your taste." He tapped his chin and smiled thoughtfully. "We're going to have to make a red drinker out of you." She chuckled softly at his suggestion, barely able to draw herself away from his eyes - and as she reached to take his glass their fingers brushed. Electricity, again. She let her hand linger and the sensation of her skin on his gave her shivers,. a forbidden touch always felt so much stronger. But it didn’t last, and to distract herself from it, she raised the glass to her lips - breathing in the scent first. It was rich, woody, and with hints of spice. She took a tentative sip, closing her eyes as she did so. It was so well bodied, warm too - she knew that red was served warm and maybe that was why she wasn’t so taken with it. This was… Nice, there was something about Gregor wanting her to enjoy it that was influential. “It’s different,” she commented with a sigh. It would be too obvious to put the glass back in his hand - too soon to steal his touch again so she placed it on the table. “Maybe I can learn… Are you sure you don’t mind sharing it with me?” she asked him, her eyelashes almost fluttered. He felt it too. It made his breath catch in his throat for just a moment. Gregor watched her as she drank and found that he was enamored with the way she'd styled her hair that day, and the way her eyebrows frowned just a little while she was evaluating the wine, and how dainty her grip on the glass was. "I'm positive," he said softly and chuckled. "I'm a bit of a lightweight so a whole bottle is too much for me anyway," he admitted. "Fjolte drank me under the table in less than an hour." “He’s a Nord,” she chuckled, rising from her seat again to fetch herself a glass. “It’s in their blood to drink to excess…” As she gave him a passing glance, she felt the heat in his eyes - his desire permeated the atmosphere, and if she didn’t act quick she would be the one to succumb to him. She didn’t take to losing control, or her nerve. So he was going to bring her a heart? She could do better. With her back to him, she raised a brow and knew exactly where to play him. She picked out her glass, a small, crystalline thing. She paused there, running a hand over her collarbone to find a chain necklace. “I want to show you something,” she said in a beguiling manner, turning her head over to look at him from over her shoulder. She made sure that her expression was innocent and doe-like before she turned on her heel to face him, beckoning him over with her finger while the other hand still moved under her shirt, slowly. “Come here, bring the wine.” The list of commands that she could've given him that he wouldn't have obeyed was very small, and that wasn't one of them. His eyes flitting from the movements of her fingers beneath her shirt to her eyes and back again, Gregor got to his feet and picked up the bottle of wine. His steps towards her were slow, but inexorable. He joined her side and looked at her expectantly, lips slightly parted and pupils dilated. "What is it?" From beneath the fabric of her shirt a key emerged in her fingers - just a small thing and Raelynn deliberately left the collar parted, revealing a glimpse of tantalising flesh. "Close your eyes," she practically whispered, trying to suppress a smile in order to appear as serious as she could. "And no peaking… I'll know…" A deep, rumbling laugh hummed in his chest. Gregor looked down her collar until he had his fill and then met her gaze over the rim of his glass. The silversmith took a large sip and swallowed slowly without breaking eye contact or even blinking. "Alright," he acquiesced in a low voice and closed his eyes. Off she went, quiet as a mouse through the chambers tapping things as she went as her own attempt to throw him off her location. A teapot in the corner, and then her desk… She did it several times until the next sound was that of a key unlocking a trunk. The familiar popping sound of a lock coming undone somewhere, and stranger still, the sound of something metal being drawn. She remained silent on her way back to him - goods in hand, wrapped in velvet cloth. A delighted smirk that he couldn't see. With his eyes closed, she drank in his form unashamedly - every inch of him. He didn't know, this really was a stolen look. "Hold out your hands…" Still keeping his eyes closed, content to play along with the game, Gregor cocked his head and listened closely to the sounds be could hear. He raised an eyebrow at the rasping metal sound. Was that a weapon? He was quite sure that she wasn't going to kill him like this, but he still felt his heart rate increase. Gregor put the bottle and his glass down and held out his hands as instructed. "Is it my birthday already?" he quipped. It was a shortsword, wrapped in the cloth. But a rather remarkable one, and it was not the shortsword that she was really showing him. It was the tease of a deal they'd made for under the velvet, the blade was dark ebony. But she wouldn't let him open his eyes yet. Raelynn placed it into his open hands but the permission to open his eyes was not spoken. She stepped around him. "I don't know when your birthday is," she whispered into his right ear. Turning to his left, "but I would like to," she whispered again. "Open your eyes…" “29th of Morning Star,” Gregor whispered back and then opened his eyes when Raelynn gave the command. He looked at her at first, pointedly ignoring the object in his palms, the sight of her bringing simmering heat to his eyes, before he smirked faintly and finally began to inspect what she’d handed to him. He immediately sucked in a sharp breath and grabbed the shortsword by the grip to hold it up in front of him. It was beautiful, almost black and flawless, and the first thing he noticed was how heavy it was. And yet, when he swung it lazily through the air around him, perfectly balanced. Gregor ran his thumb over the edge and winced -- without meaning to, it’d sliced a little into his skin, cutting right through the callous he had there. “So sharp,” he said and pulled his hand back, watching as a small bead of blood welled up. He was not upset, only impressed with the weapon. "How does it feel?" She asked, having poured herself a glass she began circling him with her slow, swaying steps. She was surprised to see that the blade had cut him. An easy fix for a mage like her. A cut like that required little more than a kiss. "I want you to show me… Show me how you'd use that. I want to see you." She brought the glass to her lips and took several steps back - giving Gregor the floor. He felt a little put on the spot and it went against the tranquil vibe the bath had given him to dig up his swordsmanship drills from his memory, but the lady wanted what the lady wanted. Gregor straightened up, clicked his heels together and swished the blade in front of his face like an officer at a parade. “As you wish,” he said and took up position close to the wall. He dropped low and adopted the scorpion-stance he’d taught Raelynn with the dagger. It had been years since he’d practiced with a shortsword, so he hoped he still remembered. Even if his mind wasn’t sure, his body still knew. Gregor sprang into action with a series of powerful thrusts, turning his body to utilize its momentum each time, and exhaling sharply at the end of every movement. He advanced a step each time, slowly speeding up, and when he reached the other side of the room he performed a spin during which he dropped the shortsword and caught it with his other hand, rapidly reversed and jabbed the blade, backhanded, into the throat of an imaginary enemy. He held his posture for a moment before he relaxed and turned back to Raelynn. “Like that,” he said and smiled. In the time he had taken with his demonstration, Raelynn had made herself comfortable on her desk, sat sideways - her waist accentuated by her womanly pose. Her glass was empty too and there was no mistaking the look in her eyes as anything other than burning desire. "You're very skilled," she complimented him sincerely, unable to tear her gaze from his body, at the way he held the handle and it caused the muscles in his forearm to almost bulge. "Fjolte told me that you finished the Daedra in the tomb. Is that true?" Gregor laughed, self-conscious. He didn’t like to brag. His father had told him it was poor form, and that his actions would speak for themselves without his commentary. That said, Raelynn hadn’t been there, so… “Yes,” he admitted. “After it had raked my side with its claws, Fjolte threw me the potions while he distracted the beast, but that ended up with him dangling rather precariously below a ledge above a very deep fall, using the warhammer like a climbing pick.” He realized how that made Fjolte sound so he added: “An ingenious way of staying alive, considering that the Daedra was breathing fire at him. Like a dragon.” It sounded ridiculous out loud and Gregor shook his head, clearly still in disbelief at everything that had happened. “I taunted it, slashed it with my sword as it came barreling through and then I used a few thunderbolt spells until it lost its grip and fell. It died on the way down, leaving behind the heart that I gave you,” he finished and fidgeted with the ebony shortsword. “It was… riveting,” he settled on, though it was obvious that thinking too much about the encounter unsettled him by the way his empty hand rubbed his side again and the furrowing of his brow. "That's quite a story, Gregor, it must have been there for centuries," she commented, watching where the Imperial's hands moved to. Of course, she also noticed that Gregor and Fjolte's stories were both different, so the real truth would remain between them, still, she noticed a flicker in Gregor's eyes as the tension between them broke. It was as if it was interrupted by something else and her own instinct to care took over her in turn. "Show me your wounds," she said - without command or any kind of provocative tone. She slipped carefully from the desk and made her way to him, leaving her empty glass behind. "Let me see what I can do…" He nodded and lifted his shirt up over his head, revealing his muscular physique, but turning so that Raelynn could inspect his side. The atmosphere had turned serious and Gregor welcomed it. He needed Raelynn the healer for a moment. “It stabbed me here,” he murmured and pointed to the three new scars on his flank, circles about the size of a septim with the unmistakable glaze of new skin. “Tore right through my chainmail like it was butter.” He shivered at the memory of the talons digging deep into his flesh. “I’d never been hurt like that before.” Gregor’s voice was soft and there was a vulnerability in his eyes, the kind that only people felt after they had just been reminded of their own mortality. He would have died without those potions. Raelynn stood at his side, listening, watching… At the end of it she sighed and placed a hand on his arm. "Come on, I want to do this properly," she told him softly, her hand squeezed him in an encouraging manner as she stepped away - collecting the throw pillows from her chairs and tossing them lightly to the floor until they made a long line across the rug by the fireplace. "Lie on your side," she said as she got down to her knees. Rarely had she treated someone like this in her chambers. Often she would be escorted to their own beds and homes, stepping in and then back out. Even those that dragged themselves through to her with open wounds were treated in the chair. But… Gregor's wound was different, and she knew that. The Breton brushed her long hair back over both shoulders and began rubbing her hands together, a golden energy coalesced into her palms that in the now darkened room lit her up in gold too, adding a warmth to her features and even to the spun silver of her hair. Raelynn watched as the ball of magic grew in her hands, humming ethereally into the silence. It was comforting to be treated this way and Gregor laid himself across the pillows without further comment. He shifted until he was comfortable and closed his eyes, though he could see the light of Raelynn’s spell from behind his eyelids. He had not subjected himself to anyone’s attention and expertise quite so fully in years. “Thank you,” he whispered in advance and waited for her to begin. Raelynn let the stream of magicka trickle into him, holding her hand like a cup inches above the wound. She watched carefully as it illuminated him from inside, spilling it's way into three clearly defined stab wounds, exactly as Gregor had said. She could see it all glowing from the outside now, and with her free hand she gently massaged his lower back with the flat of her palm, as if she was erasing the internal wounds by doing so. She could feel him when she closed her eyes, sharing her energy like this allowed her to be connected to him, her breaths moved in time with his and she visualised the wounds from the inside, in her mind's eye. He had been lucky, the claws had only just missed his stomach. Only just missed his spine… She ached in her own from the sympathy. "You're alright now," she breathed out, sensing one of the marks disappear - healed. Two to go. He could scarcely begin to describe the feeling of relief when the tension and dull ache of one of the stab wounds disappeared, and he actively had to stop himself from moaning out loud. Gregor had been a little hesitant to open up like this and had closed his eyes in a reflexive instinct to protect himself, but now his eyes opened to look up at her. She was like an angel, bathed in that beatific glow of Restoration magic, and he placed a hand on her knee as a gesture of appreciation. “That hits the spot,” he said softly and smiled somewhat sheepishly. His second stab wound was more difficult. There was a crack in his rib, severe too. It was a wonder he'd been been able to hold himself up, but she assumed it was the residual effects of the potion. She moved her hand from his back, and instead placed that one upon his head, stroking her fingers through his hair. This part would hurt and she wanted to subdue him as much as possible. She let more magicka in, directly over his affected rib and it caused the bone to become tense, uncomfortable as it mended itself. It wasn't like flesh pulling together, this was hard bone forming again at a rapid pace. It was like touching a bruise with something dull - like a low vibration in his chest. That was decidedly less pleasant. He winced and closed his eyes again as his whole body tensed up with the pain. The fingers of the hand he’d placed on her knee involuntarily pressed into her skin and he grit his teeth, squirming beneath her touch. It was the sensation of her fingers through his hair that kept him calm, otherwise he might have swatted her away and crawled into a corner to lick his wounds like a cat after a fight. "Shh, shhhhh…" she whispered to soothe him as the last of the healing took place and his second stab wound melted away in a wisp of magic. "I'm sorry," she added so her fingers continued combing him. "It won't hurt anymore," Raelynn breathed out, a sheen of sweat ran over her own forehead and yet she felt a chill as she continued working on the vulnerable Gregor. She winced too at his grip around her skin, it hurt her to see him in pain and his desperate grasping was an extension of that made physical on her body. But she was nearly finished. The last stab hadn't penetrated as deeply, and it was just a matter of letting it fill and fill and fill from her healing hands until it was enough. She'd left the easiest to last, and for good measure she still placed her glowing hands on his body, stroking him and coating him in a golden blanket of warmth. "There… See?" He waited a few moments to see if what she said was true and he found that it was. A breath that he hadn’t realized he had been holding exhaled slowly and his tense muscles relaxed again. Gregor practically melted into the pillows as a result and his hand lay slack across her knee. The touch of her hands directly on his side was pleasant, a physical, tangible reminder that he was whole again, and he leaned into it. “That was worse than I thought it would be,” he said honestly. “It was that bad, huh?” "Not bad, but not good… You would have had a painful and long recovery," she explained. "Off your feet within a few more days," Raelynn sighed. It had tired her out and she found herself coming down to the floor too on her own side to face him properly. She left a respectful distance between them, but still reached out a hand to tuck his hair behind his ear again. "The potion kept you going until you got back here… I, shouldn't have made you practice with the blade," she confessed, biting her lip as she felt a pang of guilt hit her. "I should've checked you first." “None of us are perfect,” he said and shrugged a little. Gregor wondered if this is what it would be like to wake up with her in bed together and felt his heart beating powerfully in his chest again, despite the distance she’d kept. He was exhausted and more than a little frayed and she was so beautiful, kind and gentle. Mirroring her movements, Gregor reached out to fix her hair in turn and he placed his hand behind her ear afterwards, cupping her head gently, his thumb brushing against her cheek. He smiled and his eyes were like molten caramel. “It’s fine. You fixed me.” His touch was soft, a far cry from the man he'd been when he had her by the back of her neck. He was so full of surprises, there was a place in his eyes where she could be truly herself and she searched for it as he touched her. As fun as it was to play her power games, it was nice to remove that mask and with Gregor that was possible. He wasn't here to hurt her, and she hoped there was a place in her eyes for him too. Raelynn felt tired too, spiritually, in a way. Using that magicka had been intense and taxing, to create that connection… It required a certain kind of strength and in the drunken, cooldown state, she moved her own hand on top of his, wrapping her fingers through his own and her heartbeat quickened as she did so. "I couldn't stand to see you broken…" The last of his defenses melted away. He wanted [i]this,[/i] not the shadow of affection he had with Briar back home. This was real and raw and tender and he felt his desperate desire for it well up so strongly in his chest that he almost cried. He could see in her eyes that this wasn’t a game, or selfish desire, or a brief moment of passion. Raelynn’s words were true. Gregor moved a little closer to her. “Come here,” he whispered. For all of her behaviour, and for all of her teasing, and for all of the longing she felt for Gregor - when those words left his lips she froze. She was on the precipice of true vulnerability with him, and it was what she wanted… But was it better to just long for it? To live only in the fantasised ideals of it all? Her lip trembled, and her breath caught in her chest. She wanted to close the distance, but her body didn't move. The wall between them was Raelynn's fear of trust, of the unknown. "I don't know… how," she breathed out, the air in her lungs began to feel uncomfortable, like it was both burning hot and freezing cold. There she was. The [i]real[/i] Raelynn. Gregor’s heart broke for her. What kind of childhood had she had? What kind of parents? The story of Sir Gearford was still fresh in his mind, and he wasn’t surprised that this was hard for her now. He stroked her cheek with his hand. “It’s alright,” he breathed. Now it was his turn to comfort her and to guide her. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He took her hand in his own, kissed it and pressed it against his own cheek, letting her feel him. “What does your heart say?” he asked in a quiet whisper, his eyes watching her without pressure, without expectation. All he wanted was for her to be herself. Her hand did caress his cheek. He was so tender. Raelynn took her time with his words, with his question. "I don't think my heart and I speak the same language…" The words were quietly sardonic, and she hadn't meant to sound cryptic or avoidant of the question, and in fact putting that into words relieved some of the pressure in her chest and she exhaled the breath she'd been holding. "I want you to kiss me…" she finally said, looking at him closely. "Do you want to kiss me?" She asked him, looking up into his soft gaze, everything else around them was a blur and a haze in the sunset. Gregor moved his head so that he could kiss her hand again. She was so soft, so perfect -- he briefly wondered what she thought of his beard, if it was too rough or too prickly. He looked into her eyes again. “Yes,” he said, and his smile broke into a soft laugh of mischief as he had an idea. “Come with me,” Gregor whispered and sat up on his knees. He hooked his arms below her shoulders and her waist and lifted her off of the ground. Holding her up meant that her face was very close to his and she could reach out to kiss him if she wanted to, but Gregor got to his feet and carried her to the edge of the partition -- to the part of the room he hadn’t been to before. “Permission to enter?” he asked in a low voice and looked at her as she lay in his arms. It made him feel so strong. "I don't know about that…" Raelynn replied, finding some of humour for him as the tightness in her chest released more. "Take your shoes off first," she added, some playfulness returning to sparkle in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around him. No matter what, there was always something she had to make him do. “Your wish is my command,” the Imperial said and he slipped out of the shoes she’d got for him, his bare feet cool on the floor of the suite. He stepped beyond the partition and towards the bed, gently placing her on the sheets before getting down on the bed with her. He propped up his head with a pillow and sighed, content, with how soft the bed was. “That’s better,” he hummed, on his side and facing her. “Yes, I want to kiss you,” he reiterated and touched her cheek again, his fingers now traveling down her neck and over her collarbones. “May I?” The feeling of desire was back, and she tipped her head back in response to the feeling of his fingertips brushing her neck and collarbones. Raelynn nodded, moving closer to him now - the bed was soft, covered in fresh throws and a fur and even after only one glass of wine, her head began to spin. Perhaps it was the intoxicating scent he wore. "Yes," she whispered as her nose almost touched his, "kiss me," Gregor leaned in and kissed her. It was a gentle kiss, just a peck on the lips at first, and he was frozen there as hot chills ran down his spine and goosebumps spread across his arms. The sensation of her lips against his was electrifying. He pulled back a little and kissed her again, leaning into it as his body turned and his shoulders hovered over her. His hand found her shoulder, and then her neck, and then the back of her head, his fingers woven into her hair. His lips were as soft as the inside of a rose, and she moved gently against them with her tongue as her hands moved across either side of his face and back into his hair. What started as tenderness sparked a flame, as he moved over her, his shadow covered Raelynn in a shroud, and in his darkness she felt safe. The Breton moaned into his mouth and her fingers stroked the back of his neck - it was incredible to have him like this, to taste him - the spice of the red wine had stained his lips. She had never had a kiss like it. The walls and corridors of his mind disappeared in a haze of desire and he opened his mouth to taste her tongue with his own. She was all there was, their heat and their bodies, and the deep affection and fondness he felt for her. Where her pleasure escaped her as a moan, Gregor’s did so as deep, rolling growl as he kissed her deeply, and he eclipsed the light even further by moving on top of her entirely. His body was reacting to pure instinct -- all he wanted was to be with her, as close as possible, to occupy the same space that she did and for them to melt into one another. His fingers ran through her hair and his other hand ran down her side, grabbing at her hip through the fabric of her shirt. She hooked a leg around his waist and pulled him closer still. Whatever hesitation and fear that had been there before was overtaken by lust, at the thought of a release of the tension that had built… That what had happened the last time they were together wasn't how it was always going to be. She ran her own hand over his bare chest in stark contrast to how she'd been so tender earlier. Her nails left light red lines across him while his fingers worked their way over her hip. He was so handsome, powerful. He was masculinity in all of it's forms. "What do you want now?" She asked, her voice little more than a honeyed breath as she pulled away from him, afterall, he'd had his kiss now… “You,” he answered without hesitation. The way she looked up at him was even better than all the times he’d pictured it in his mind, willingly or unwillingly. She had a way of invading his most private thoughts even when he hadn’t wanted her there, but Gregor fully surrendered to everything he’d felt ever since laying eyes on her. She was beautiful, inside and out -- even her cold, calculating, ruthless side stoked the fires of his heart. It made him want her for himself even more. Every man wanted to tame the seas, and Gregor had found his tempest. “All of you.” [hr] He laid himself down behind her, the big spoon to her little spoon, and wrapped his powerful arms around her torso, taking the hand that she reached towards him with into his own. As his head cleared up, Gregor was immediately struck by a pang of guilt but he buried it beneath the serene warmth and affection of the moment. That was for the Gregor of the day after to deal with. Now, there was only Raelynn, and he breathed in her scent, cuddling up close to her, their bodies touching as much as possible. He hooked his legs around hers and planted a kiss in her neck, just below her ear. “Amazing,” he repeated in a deep hum. He hoped that she felt safe in his embrace. Raelynn shifted up against him, letting her head rest in the crook of his neck as she gazed towards the window with heavy lidded eyes. Her hand squeezed his and everything seemed to slow down as they did - falling into slumber in each others arms. She didn't realise when she woke that morning that Gregor would make her world stop, not once, but twice. Or maybe it was that he stopped it and then started it over again. "Just hold me," she said in one last tired breath before her eyes closed for a good rest, the most intimate for a long time.