• Closed • I only sleep to dream [Darcy]

[Caius Gawyne]

Vhalar 115, 717 A few breaks after sunrise

Continued from ...

Continued from here.

Exceedingly warm and comfortable, Caius in his very slow, almost luxurious waking experience was aware of a few out of the ordinary but not at all unpleasant things at once: he had slept far longer than usual, there was a dog at his feet, and Darcy was still in his bed. The sun's light crept far over his floor through the curtains of his small, drafty window, illuminating dust and ash from the smoldering fire, dancing over papers and books strewn about the small interior of his campus residence. He'd been dreaming, as usual, of home, but everything about his dream had been unfamiliar in its pleasantness, the young Gawyne used to the recurring nightmares that seemed Kielik-bent on reminding him of his past shortcomings.

For several bits, he hardly moved, still tangled in the pale, disheveled embrace of the blonde Venora, the northern noble kept his eyes closed and just listened, just felt, for quite some time. She breathed peacefully, her every exhale tickling his bare skin once he became aware of the sensation, and while he'd been worried about the physical ramifications of all the drugs she'd admitted to doing in her terrified sadness, none of them had made her ill and they'd managed to fall asleep talking quietly, talking closely. As much as his body couldn't help but react to her vicinity with his heart picking up speed to race in his ears as he woke and his skin tingling warmly where it touched hers, he was content to just be still. Honeyed amber eyes finally opened and washed over her face, their shared stories returning to his thoughts as he reluctantly woke.

By the Fates, sleeping felt good, but sleeping next to Darcy felt better. The young Gawyne couldn't help but stare at her stupidly, to take her in with a wordless thrill in her sleep, still and quiet, the fear and anger and confusion and tears of breaks before left behind in the dark, burned away by the need for sleep and the reliable rising sun. Caius didn't even care what sarding break it was, didn't care if he missed a lecture, didn't even care if he missed an appointment. He just really, really didn't sarding care. Breaks before, in the dark, much of what he'd thought was important had been shoved aside by the blonde Venora's confessions and secrets.

Even half asleep, he still hurt: an emotional ache that felt heavy even if laying so tangled in her limbs made him groggily light-headed, distracted. His heart beat against a tighter chest, burdened now with her past and her fears instead of just his own and also burdened now by knowing not just the what she did with her evenings but the why she chose to do them all. The drugs were an attempt to hide—to hide from a terrifying person and all they'd done to her. They were winning, or, at least, they were allowing Pythera to continue the harm that she'd started without even having to be present. Darcy's fear gnawed at her, wore her thin, and took away her desire to fight back against the craving to numb and forget. She'd begged him to keep secrets he knew he simply could not, not if telling her secret could get her sister's reign of terror ended once and for all. That was the heaviest but most welcome burden of them all: protecting her.

Caius knew that now and he had to figure out what to do with all the knowledge he felt so responsible for—steward of secrets but also concerned ... friend? Lover? Something. Both. Neither, mostly because of his own stupidity,

"Hey."

With a slow sigh, he shifted only slightly against Darcy—closer still—one arm sliding from beneath her because his ink-stained fingers were numb, curling into his own unkempt hair instead. He'd literally slept like a slug of lead, waiting to be melted and molded into type. Solid. His voice was quiet and broken by sleep, lower as he spoke into a wave of platinum hair and brushed too-warm lips against her ear,

"Wake up." Caius gently attempted to rouse the pianist, both out of concern to see how she was doing as well as a selfish need for conversation. His voice may have set Smudge's tail wiggling, but the dog neither moved nor made any other indications of caring, "Good morning, Lady Venora. How are you feeling?"

❦

[Darcyanna Venora]

115th Vhalar, 717

Feelssss

You don’t have to be alone.

The words had been uttered so sweetly, so softly as the taller printers diri pressed soft lips to her forehead and then her mouth, undemanding or wanting in their touch merely a moment in time to comfort the blonde in her stupidly dangerous drug induced visit. They had lay together, talking quietly with hands intertwined and bodies tucked close. Innocent, comforting and warm. Eventually they had fallen asleep, Darcyanna knew not the break it was when they did but for once in what felt like a lifetime, she felt at peace.

Hey.

The sound of a voice drifted into the dreamless corners of her mind not rousing her, but disturbing her just enough to have the blonde musician sigh gently in her sleep and turn slightly to lay on her back, one hand curled to rest against the warmth of his skin and long tresses strewn across the pillow.

Wake up.

Darcyanna felt the brush of ticklish warmth against her ear, the sensation calling her from the slumber her body so desperately needed. Slowly the layers of sleep fell away and the pale Venora groaned softly in protest, turning back towards the Gawyne’s side of the bed and running into unexpected warmth. Her mind quickly caught up, recalling in bits and pieces the events of the evening prior and where she was.

Who she lay with.

Opening her eyes, Darcy looked into the golden gaze of the taller blonde, offering a small smile even as she made another moan of protest and let them shut again.

“Mmm...hey.” She uttered quietly, content and warm in the confines of Caius’ bed. Her eyes opened again, a strange blend of green and purple as the sun filtered through to greet them softly. What break was it? Frankly, the shorter woman didn’t care. As far as the day was concerned, she could spend it entirely in this moment and it would be perfection.

“I’m surprisingly okay, thank you my Lord Gawyne.” Darcy let her smile grow, unable to resist reaching up and sweeping a stray crop of hair from his forehead before letting her hand settle on the bed between them, skin touching skin again as the young pianist found the contact a welcome comfort.

“I think I’m more okay then I would have been had I not visited you last night.” She said openly, turning her eyes to study his face rather than meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” The Venora sighed, her alabaster cheeks pink in shame. It had been possibly the worst she could recall, the narcotic overdose fueling her fears rather than quelling them. In turn the intoxicated blonde had shared her story, her pain, and the memory brought with it guilt. What had she done? Caius had shared his own story, and proclaimed his desire to protect her unlike he felt he could protect his sister.

It was pain they had both hidden from the world, that they had now shared the burden of with each other. It didn’t lessen the hurt or the fear, but it somehow made it more manageable to know that someone else knew and cared.

[Caius Gawyne]

She wasn’t in any more of a hurry than he was, and that was somewhat of a relief. The blonde Venora didn’t stir with words of regret on her lips but a smile, and she didn’t slip away to retreat from him or the comforts of his bed. Caius did his level best not to grin too stupidly at their warm vicinity, though his inability to contain it all resulted in a broad, lopsided smile nonetheless. At their further stirring, Smudge looked up briefly from his almost protective spot at their feet, only to whine and choose to ignore the pair in favor of more sleeping.

“Better is good.” He agreed, wiggling the numb fingers of his hand until they felt back in reality again, stretching with a groan of his own, before curling back towards Darcy, his other hand still on her side roaming a little with an unthinking idleness, “I should have taken you to the Infirmary instead of let you stay, but I’m about as sarding stupid as I am selfish, I suppose.”

He chuckled quietly at his own joke, choosing not to meet her gaze for a moment or two lest she judge him in all of his confused decisions. She already knew he had his entirely unacademic moments of stupidity, and yet she knew more than just that, too. The pianist's fingers brushed his face and his smile turned coy, but she didn't look at him as she spoke,

"Sorry? For Fate's sake, here's nothing to be sorry for, Darcy, so don't be. Especially not to me." The young Gawyne assured her quietly, fingers trailing teasingly up over her body, hidden under the warmth of his covers, unable to entirely behave himself, "You didn't need to be alone like that, but," Caius paused, eyes more blue than amber, his tone firm, admonishing as gently as he could, "you also shouldn't end up in such a sarding ridiculous, dangerous state. You know that, right?"

The northern noble had been lucky, he told himself, for things could have been so, so much worse. He was very aware that for all of his pursuit of knowledge and understanding through all that academia had to offer him in Idalos, the sensitive details of how to care for someone who'd overdosed on any substance had never been part of his studies. She'd admitted that this was a coping mechanism, a habitual problem, a way to hide from the waking nightmare that had been—and promised to still be—her sister, Pythera. Last night ran the risk of not being a one-time event, Caius wordlessly knew that thus far many of the evenings they'd spent together, he'd been the sober one and she had not. It was clear now, as he continued to somewhat selfishly stare at her lovely, sleepy self in the late morning sun that glared through his one drafty window, that her family had absolutely no sarding clue.

This was their secret. For now, anyway.

Thank the Seven he was a Gawyne: bred for secrets, raised to bear the burden of forever knowing too much.

"I'm glad you're here. You're safe." Caius grinned sheepishly, resisting the urge to hide his face in his pillow, he bit his lip instead. His irises were a warm mix of amber and green, amused and unable to hide the mischievousness in his tone, "So, I say we be sarding lazy to-trial—at least until I have to work. I don't have any scones, unfortunately, but I do have tea."

He smirked, the reference clearly self-deprecating, but he was quick to sneak a kiss in, too close to her lovely face to just keep ignoring the possibilities their proximity presented. Lingering, he mumbled as he slipped away with obvious reluctance, "Stay here. Have a little lie in. I'll be right back."

The printer's diri slid out of his covers, bare feet on the chilled floor. Smudge watched him warily, one eye open, snuggling further against Darcy's feet with a whine instead of bothering to get up while his master stretched and curled fingers into his unkempt hair as he stepped over papers and books and cursed at them while he did so. What a sarding mess he'd made, but it all had made sense to him at the time. Caius meandered to his small hearth to revive it, waking smoldering embers into a proper fire with more wood and a bit of work. He then retrieved his kettle from the mantle, fetching water from his tiny but efficient washroom, and setting it on a little stand in the hearth.

With a lingering glance at his mess, ink-stained fingers straying to rub listlessly at his left wrist, the young Gawyne looked back to the blonde Venora in his bed with a distracted grin. Crawling back under the covers with a laugh, he didn't bother harassing his little dog. Warm from the fire, he reached greedily for the pianist tucked between his sheets,

"Just a bit of waiting. Sarding good thing you're patient. Mostly." His grin was wicked.

❦

[Darcyanna Venora]

115th Vhalar, 717

The lopsided grin was infectious, and Darcy couldn’t help but grin back, watching as the taller student stretched languidly before curling back to her. A hand, warm and comfortable rested on her side, roaming just a little in a distracting sort of way. The pianist did everything she could to ignore it, accepting the touch as one of familiarity between...friends? More than friends?

Something more, but what she couldn’t say.

The grin faltered a little at mention of the infirmary, firmly disagreeing with a quick shake of her head.

“Sard that. They would have sent my brother a letter to come fetch me. Do you have any idea how much that would shame my family? Fates, Oli would have a right conniption.” Contemplating for a moment, the blonde Venora let her smile return with an almost mischievous look on her face.

“Then again, he’d probably be just as bad if he knew I’d slept in some nobles bed. Did I tell you, he is awfully good with a sword.” She chuckled softly, snuggling into the pillow and shuffling just a little closer to his warmth.

As the conversation turned serious again, Darcyanna found it difficult to pay full attention as the stray hand on her side shifted higher, causing the blonde to feel entirely too warm and self-consciously close to the Gawyne who had made his non-intentions known the last time they’d been intimately alone.

Well. Mostly. Confusingly. Sort of.

“I know. It was dangerous and horrible and frightening and...I can’t promise it won’t happen again but I’m willing to try and avoid it.” Fates, she hated herself for that. The overdose had been truly the worst time Darcy could remember, and yet the ugly memories remained. The scars remained.

It was the first, but it would not be the last.

The somber moment passed, and the printmakers diri was grinning again with the mention of their own private joke. The alabaster musician let her eyebrows raise in mirth.

“A lazy trial sounds like a really damned good idea...but....tea with no scones? How very uncivilised of you Caius.” She laughed before fading into a pleasant smile, green eyes looking over the high cheekbones and aristocratic nose of the morning disheveled man. He leaned in then to kiss her, unexpected and lingering. Darcy closed her eyes, heart fluttering from the contact, even as she kept any return kisses at bay. Indeed, the last time they’d discussed scones she’d somehow dreadfully overstepped boundaries she didn’t know had existed, and was adamant not to do so again.

Humming her disappointment at his departure, Darcyanna took advantage of the room under the covers and stretched luxuriously, nudging the little bulldog gently by accident, before pulling them close around her and cuddling in to watch Caius potter around his room with a curled fist tucked under her cheek. He did make quite the appealing sight first thing in the morning, half dressed and hair in disarray. If they were to keep things proper physically, the pianist could at least enjoy herself visually.

With a surprised giggle of delight as the tall Gawyne changed direction to crawl back under the bedding and draw her close, Darcy sighed with contentment.

“Patience is a most excellent virtue for a Lady to have my good ser, and so I do what I can. Mostly.” She said with a shrug, snuggled close to his heated body and smirking at his grin.

She could be patient, but by the Seven he made it hard.

[Caius Gawyne]

"I'm not a sarding idiot with a blade in my hands, either, I'll remind you. Have you told your brother of me already, then?” Caius smirked, choosing not to comment about her family name or just what kind of shame bringing her to the Infirmary would have really brought to anyone. If she was in genuine need, which something inside his too-warm chest said she was, then it wouldn't have mattered so much, but her admitting that her brother, Oliver, had no sarding clue of her choices brought a weight to his next breath. He exhaled slowly, eyes fluttering closed for a moment, hiding the mix of emotions that churned in his gaze.

Her promise wasn't entirely what he wanted, aware that words were easier than actions, that she had to genuinely want to make the effort in order for the scales to be tipped toward change. Did she? If fear was her motivator, if Pythera the source, then Caius was unsure of how to make her feel safe enough to stay clean. There were many layers to the issue, and like carefully packing a press with just the right amount of padding to pull the perfect kiss inpression, delicately dissecting all the complexities of Darcy’s addictions would be a slow, careful act.

While Darcy didn't resist him, didn't shy away from their comfortable closeness, there was a subtle tension between them. The young Gawyne was far from adept enough to interpret it: either he'd been correct in his fears that now sober, her boundaries were far clearer than his own and he'd made the right decision just a handful of trials ago, no matter how difficult that decision had felt at the time. Or, worse yet, he'd simply hurt her, snuffing out her desire to risk his bizarre sense of protectiveness that had flared it's strong-voiced presence in their carriage ride home from the Tulburn estate. The pianist didn't return his curious touches, her hands didn't roam his bare skin and he felt as though he could sense her resistance to linger against his lips. He had either made a mistake or was missing something, and while he couldn’t entirely feel rejected, he felt odd, uncomfortable, and needy all at the same time.

"Uncivilized? Probably. I have no sarding excuse." Caius sighed almost dejectedly as he left her alone to wake up his hearth fire and set the kettle on, glad for the few moments he could face the flames that began to come to life, disappointed in his own choices. Bare back to her, he couldn't see her watch him, had no idea her gaze lingered on him when he wasn't looking. Perhaps he would have appreciated the admiration he questioned, worried now that such stolen glances were no longer quite as interesting as they’d been trials before.

Still, she laughed at him when he returned, greedily crawling his way back under the covers, warm from the fire. Even if she didn't mean it, her words bit at him, and not in the heated, delicious way he knew her to be capable of. He'd done this to himself, and while Darcyanna didn't resist his arms wrapping her tightly, she had no comfortable, reliable point of reference for his affections and so he felt as though she chose not to return them. The one-sidedness felt hollow and it bordered on driving him mad with unspoken need,

"I wronged you." The young Gawyne's words were not a question, spoken quietly but with a sharp edge, lips brushing the enticing curve between her neck and shoulder, "Or, at least, I hurt you."

He waited, perhaps giving her a chance to consider when or what his words were in a reference to, cheek against the disheveled platinum of her hair, unwilling to move in order to look at the lovely Venora sharing his bed as he spoke. It kept his face hidden, his expression one of defeat and his eyes darkened. He exhaled slowly, heart in his throat a fiery ember fresh out his own now crackling hearth, searing the back of his throat and making his words burn on his tongue,

"The other night, after Lady Tulburn's party. I hurt you. Confused you. Did I not? My actions and my words spoke different things to you, and maybe this—right now—" His arms held her tighter for a moment for emphasis, legs tangled with her own. Smudge considered the floor, but the little bulldog was far too stubborn to give in so soon. The kettle was still quiet, and Caius' pulse raced in his ears. The northern noble wanted to disappear into the sunlight the danced on her hair, to melt away like snow in Ashan,

"—this isn't sarding helping. Last night, Darcy, for Fate's sake, last night was exactly why I made the choices that I did. I don’t know how to explain how difficult it was for me to separate what I wanted and what you needed from me. I hope you can see that my thoughts were not meant to put an end to your desires or your curiosities or even to hurt you, but I also don't want that to get in the way, for what I said to—wait, don't misunderstand me—well, sard it all, you already have. I can't think straight with you, apparently." Caius hissed frustratedly, longing for more of her as much as he longed for the right words to say.

His sharp mind became dull, and all his words felt stupid in her presence.

She held his otherwise academic mind captive with her smile and stole his words with a touch.

He hated it, but also didn’t.

Afraid to look at her, afraid for her to see the conflict in the colors of his gaze, he slowly let her go and made to move his arms from around her, to slip away again and pretend he had some task to attend to at the kettle when he did not. He began to leave her alone again,

”I'm sorry. Perhaps all I've done is made more mistakes."

His chest ached, looking at her so perfectly in his bed with a sorry sort of reluctantance, the burden of her own hurts suddenly so sarding heavy. What had he gotten himself into? She trusted him, she'd come to his door last night when she could have suffered alone. Thank the Seven she didn't, but here he was, impatient in his confused wanting, her body a temptation he’d certainly thought about for trials, unable to forget the way the blue glow of the pond illuminated her enticing silhouette or the quiet sounds of her enjoyment in his ear.

Caius longed to be a place of safety, but he also didn’t. He really didn’t.

Dark eyes shifted toward Smudge so he wouldn’t keep staring at the blonde Venora, his heart smeared on his face like so much ink,“Come on, boy, while the kettle’s on.”

He nudged the beast to convince him to go outside for his morning business, the young Gawyne finding himself without any more words worth saying.

❦

[Darcyanna Venora]

115th Vhalar, 717

His quiet words drew up more reminders of their awkward carriage ride, true in what was said. It had hurt, being wrapped in a whirlwind of excitement and warm willing bodies, to then being brought rather firmly back down to the ground. However, at the time whilst Darcy didn’t want the brakes to be put on, she did understand why. In the end, it was the right choice. She knew that, truly.

Still, she wasn’t sure how long those brakes were to be applied. That was the problem.

By the sarding Fates, how enticing the brush of warm lips were against the hollow of her neck. Surely he knew how it burned at her core, lilac eyes slipping shut with lower lip trapped almost painfully between her teeth as she swallowed the aching sigh that begged to slip from her throat. The Venora wanted to reply, to answer his questions, but she couldn’t trust her own voice. Instead she let him talk, wanting to avoid a repeat of the ten trials prior.

The Gawyne spoke in frustrated tones, angry at her? Angry at himself? Angry at everything. Her stomach dropped when the taller blonde pulled away then, slipping back, taking his heat and his lovely embrace away from her. Darcyanna felt cold, a chill of perhaps a critical turning point. Had she misinterpreted his intentions all that much? His eyes turned to her with a heavy sadness, causing Darcy to sit up with a frown.

No, no. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t right at all. Panic gripped her chest.

Feks sake.

“Wait, please…”

Throwing back the covers as Caius called the small bulldog and turned away from her, the pale creature crossed the small room to catch the nobleman by the arm, turning him and lifting her free hand to wrap around the back of his heated neck. Lifting on her bare toes, Darcyanna kissed him for all she was worth. Breathing deeply through her nose, her brow furrowed with passion and needing to show him what she felt, here and now whilst sober and coherent before it was too late. Her hand on his arm stroked down to ink stained fingers, intertwining them between her own delicate ones.

Breaking away from his lips, the Venora looked into his eyes, breathing heated and willing the silly sarding man to understand her crystal clear.

“You’re right. It did hurt. It was confusing and if I can be honest Caius, I don’t know where I stand in regards to this. In regards to us. I’m scared of pushing you away if I move too fast, or too slow. You kiss me, and everything burns. Everything aches to kiss you back and touch you, but I don’t know if you want me to. I…I don’t know any of this. I’ve never sarding done any of it before.” Dropping her gaze with a deep blush, she stroked her thumb over the back of his hand in hers.

“You were right to do what you did that night, in the carriage. I wasn’t in a good state of mind and I was made bolder by the filth in my veins…but I…I want this.” Turning her head a little to look even further away, her cheeks turning scarlet, the musician spoke softer still.

“I want you.”

[Caius Gawyne]

Music Inspiration

Ugh. Just ugh ...

He needed some space. He needed to breathe.

Suddenly aware that he was sulking at her, that his physical desires had left him frustrated, too full of wanting and rude because he knew he'd made the choice for his own damn self. He'd made the right choice, in the moment, but that didn't mean he'd made a permanent decision and it wasn't assuring in this moment. Darcyanna in his bed was both a necessary comfort and an unexpected craving, the closeness of their bodies for the few breaks they slept had left him wanting more—not an unnatural response, honestly, but one which he wrestled with wordlessly nonetheless. So, for his own sanity, he slipped away and used his dog as an appropriate enough excuse, desperate for a moment to separate what he wanted from who he needed to be.

Caius wasn't really angry, not at her, but perhaps a little frustrated with himself, with the inevitable and acceptable tug of his attraction to the blonde Venora weighing heavily opposite his genuine commitment to be less of a rebellious ass in her presence. Unable to entirely balance the scales, too sarding sure he held them both back, he looked to Smudge instead of at the distracting pianist in his bed, holding up the the dog's leash for emphasis.

Seemingly too smart for his own good, the little bulldog was keen on the game the two nobles were playing, and he stayed put, though he couldn't help but wag his tail at the promise of outside.

Wait? For what? He was. He was doing a sarding good job of that, sort of—

Darcy crossed the room after him with a purpose, delicate hands on him to demand his attention, lips on his. She lingered and he leaned needfully into her expressive kiss. She tangled her fingers with his and his other hand gripped Smudge's leash tighter, dropping uselessly to his side while she dragged him through her unspoken thoughts with her mouth,

"I'm sorry."

His first barely whispered words were already an apology, blinking at her even as she looked away, so much heat and color on her pale cheeks. He exhaled, ears ringing, skin on the back of tingling where her fingers had been,

"I don't—I'm not—" Caius paused, the normally articulate and sarcastic young Gawyne perpetually flustered to put his thoughts into complete sentences when completely in her presence. Her shy admissions brought color to his cheeks even though she wasn't even looking, a flush of mixed emotions that warmed his irises toward amber and stole his words for a trill or two. He chose not to comment on where he'd been in the world, "I don't really have rules. Or I didn't. Or I've never bothered to sarding care before."

Until her.

He'd created an unnecessary complexity out of his concern, something else annoying to navigate through an already strange and complicated relationship, and he finally crumbled over it, laughing in dismissal of everything between them, the grin that slowly crept across his features lopsided and inviting,

"You had me fooled, Darcy, and you have made me into a fool." Caius teased her, squeezing the hand that still held his with his wickedly inappropriate compliment. He lowered his voice, and his tone became quiet, sincere, and heated by the end, "Look, I said what I did for you, to protect you, but it's really that simple. For fate's sake, I want you, too. If you want more of me, you can have it. You can have me."

The printer's diri made sure to follow up such a statement with another kiss, one as permissive as it was urgent, lifting their entwined hands to his bare chest to pull her closer—

Oh, but the kettle whistled loudly and Smudge changed his mind by hopping off the bed to appear at their feet all at the same time, both deciding this very moment was the most appropriate one to demand sudden attention,

"Sard it all." Teeth against lips with another chuckle, the young Gawyne grumbled distractedly, pulse a rushing torrent in his ears, "Hold this. All of this. For a moment ... or two. Two bits."

Releasing her hand, his grin was more distracted than apologetic, moving to set the leash back and to set the kettle off of the fire. He didn't make any effort at actually making tea, however, glancing at the blonde Venora as if it was a joke now. Uncivilized. Purposefully brushing past the pianist on his way toward the door, his dog now quite impatient because he clearly knew he was interrupting and enjoyed the extra attention, nub of a tail wagging, Caius opened the door, bracing for the morning chill despite being barefoot and shirtless. He simply let the insatiable creature out, not following, closing the door and leaning next to it, waiting for Smudge's inevitable return.

❦

[Darcyanna Venora]

115th Vhalar, 717

It was coming

Continued here

Looking up, the laughter caught her by surprise, and for a moment Darcy thought she’d perhaps said something stupid until that same roughish grin graced the Gawyne’s face, causing the shorter blonde to smile slowly in return. Like that, it was all okay. Relief released the tension in her shoulders the pianist hadn’t realised was there, and at his wicked words the blonde winced a little in jest.

“Yeah...yeah I think I had us both fooled.” She said with an embarrassed laugh, firmly believing now that if they had continued the events in the carriage she would have woken with some regrets. Mostly the fact that in her state of mind it would have just been a blur of bodies by the morning. Darcyanna wanted to remember all of it when it finally happened.

If you want more of me, you can have it. You can have me.

Meeting the liquid gold of Caius’ gaze, the shorter musician could barely hear his words over the rushing in her ears. She parted her lips, wanting to reply with something smart or witty and instead floundering with a half uttered sound, before the tall nobleman silenced any other words with his too warm mouth. It coaxed the gently crackling fire within her to a roaring flame, stealing any further thoughts on the matter. Willingly, she let him draw her hand up, moving closer to—

Sard it all.

The moment fractured, not lost by any means but rudely interrupted by whistling kettles and impatient bulldogs. Pulling away with a smile, Darcy took a deep breath, trying to stop her head spinning and her heart racing.

“I’ll give you two bits Gawyne.” The ivory skinned Venora said a little shakily and a lot breathlessly.

[Pegasus]

Darcyanna

Overview

Awww, vulnerable Darcy all curled up in the arms of Caius. The waking up moment was lovely, so beautifully written and you brought real emotion into the post for me. She's sweet and scared and teasing and cynical all in one. Love her!

Points

XP: 15

Fame: None

Loot

None

Knowledge

Discipline: Ignoring feelings of desire
Discipline: Keeping your hands to yourself
Leadership: Taking action to regain control
Politics: Brave words and bold moves, for the good of all involved
Sociology: Admitting painful truths
Seduction: Kisses are effective attention-getting tools

Caius

Overview

He didn't care about missing lectures!? This offends me! Interesting writing, I like how self-depreciating and critical of his decisions Caius is. They were both vulnerable in this thread, and there was very much a sense of them making each other stronger. Nicely done!

Points

XP: 15

Fame:None

Loot

None

Knowledge

Discipline: Ignoring feelings of desire
Discipline: Sticking to your convictions
Endurance: Two more bits.
Persuasion: Admitting your real desires
Persuasion: The power of apology
Rhetoric: Explaining what you really want
Seduction: If you want more of me, you can have it.
Seduction: Conversation against skin.