• Closed • [Mid-Town] Home / Work

Caius and Darcy settle in.

The capital city of the of Rynmere, here is seated the only King in Idalos.
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Caius Gawyne
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[Mid-Town] Home / Work

Zi'da 72, 717


"Just a little more to the left, Halit."

"Really, are you sure?" The Biqaj grunted, straining with his end of the piano as they made their way up the stairs, "I don't want to hit the railing and—"

"Sarding listen to me, se'qat. I can see from here." The northern noble hissed from his vantage point farther up the stairs, right arm still in a sling under the dark violet of his velvet coat, "Darcyanna will crush your fingers one at a time if something happens to that piano."

Halit laughed and craned his neck over the side of the small piano, making eye contact with his two friends from the port who held up the bottom end with smiles of their own, speaking to them in Rakahi for a bit or two while they hovered precariously between the first and second floor of the mid-town rental that Caius had managed to hurriedly procure in desperation to find somewhere away from the watchful gaze of their predatory stalker. He knew it wouldn't be for long, that the beast of a woman had watched them far too closely, but at the same time, he could hope to have a bit of a respite anyway. Just a little.

The apartment was within walking distance of the Rynmere Gazette in mid-town, admittedly farther from campus than he would have preferred, but nestled in a quiet neighborhood of other small stone houses. The first floor was one smaller flat while the second and third floors belonged entirely to Caius, who'd wanted to make sure there was enough room for a study as well as a spare bedroom—just in case. Furniture had already arrived, and he'd spent the trial before while the delicate pianist was in class making the rest of the necessary arrangements. It was far bigger than their tiny campus residences combined, and he'd actually worked quite hard to pull everything together in a secretive, exited sort of way, aware that everything about this arrangement was scandalous to say the least, no matter how much he comforted himself with the reminder that it was for their safety. Yes, safety.

The final surprise had been moving her piano to-trial, again while the blonde Venora was in class. He'd left a note and directions, and Lly'en would be around to walk with her, for he no longer allowed either of them to travel alone in Andaris lest Pythera decide to make good on her promises. They'd managed to get the piano across town in a wagon, three Biqaj and the young Gawyne directing them—

"Go open the door, Keys." Halit hissed, Caius' thoughts having wandered for a moment, and the northern noble smirked—chagrined—turning to race up the rest of the stairs to open the door to the apartment proper, holding it for the trio of young men with full uses of all their limbs who still managed to break a sweat so far into the chill of Zi'da. Smudge wagged his nub of a tail eagerly, following the men in desperation to sniff them, to smell the salt of the sea that clung to them all.

Once inside, he directed them into the small study while his little grey dog ran circles around them dangerously, indicating Halit and his burly seafaring friends to set the piano down against the wall with a nervous smile, making the trio shift the sarding thing three or four times with a wave of his left hand until the printer's diri was satisfied with its placement near the desk and the bookshelves. The study was already well-lived in, Caius having strewn the desk with two wood blocks to carve for class, his tools, and several sketches to work from. The shelves were filled with a handful of books from the library for his Research position, a few of them aching to be rebound if he'd had his own equipment. Moving the bench with his good hand to in front of the piano, he nodded contentedly at the arrangement, somewhat pleased with himself. The whole apartment was surprisingly well-lit with even afternoon sun and far less drafty than his little residence on campus.

"Vrelore. Satisfied, my Lord?" The Biqaj-turned-bodyguard was grinning, taunting his friend with a more formal title, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, "I can't believe you didn't tell her about all of this."

"Yes, and I did tell her—some of it. She just hasn't seen it." Caius grinned back but his tone was serious, "We could all sarding use a pleasant surprise for once."

"That's for sure, se'qat."

The northern noble thanked Halit's friends in Rakahi, reaching to pay them, enjoying their softer consonants and the way the vowels rolled differently off of his tongue no matter how basic his grasp of the language was. While the two other Biqaj were eager for their nel, thanking Caius in return, his friend refused, rolling his broad shoulders in a shrug,

"Pay me a salary instead." He winked, insisting his friend make him a permanent employee for the millionth time since he'd returned wounded from Bellesoir, "Write your father and I'll call it even."

"Fine. But for now?" He pressed the two gold nel into the shorter, darker Biqaj's hand, winking, "A deposit. Thank you for all of your help, all the moving. I don't think this would have come together without you, Halit."

"Well, it is the season of giving. Have us over for a meal once you're settled—Lly'en would be happy to cook for all of us, you know."

The young Gawyne smiled warmly, aware of some of the life skills he lacked as a noble, even far from home. He'd have to remedy some of that. Or hire help. He smirked, chagrined at the sudden awareness of his sheltered life while standing before a much more self-sufficient student while the ache in his shoulder reminded him of his other shortcomings,

"I'd appreciate that, too." Caius laughed shyly before waving them all toward the door, "Now, out with you sweaty lot before my Lady Venora comes home."

Home.

He was stupid. This was so sarding stupid. But, for a little while, he could pretend it was safe, even when in the aching, charred scar on his chest, he knew it wasn't. Nowhere was safe—so what was he pretending at? Scandalous disaster, perhaps, but after all that had happened over the past season and a half, Caius was loath to let Darcy be alone ... or to be alone himself.

Once everyone was gone, left with just a very excited Smudge, the young Gawyne wandered into the study to grab a few books off the shelf and settle into the chair at his somewhat crowded desk, pretending to be patient for Lly'en and Darcy to arrive, letting the little grey dog into his lap for some eager licks and ear scratches before distracting himself with some reading.

Ledger
Our rental agreement is here. Caius and Darcy are splitting the cost, but Caius has paid for Zi'da (-13gn 95sn) entirely. They have split furniture costs, so Caius' half is a whopping -412gn 81sn (yeah, we spent quite a bit there LOL). The piano is part of Darcy's SP. Everything is in our ledgers.

Oh, yeah, and -6gn for paying the Biqaj moving company. LOL

Last edited by Caius Gawyne on Wed Jan 24, 2018 5:11 pm, edited 4 times in total. word count: 1263
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[Mid-Town] Home / Work

62nd Zi’da, 717


If only ten trials or so ago one was to suggest a bodyguard to the blonde Venora, she would have scoffed and laughed it off. Now, it seemed not only had she got a body guard, but she also could never sarding be alone. If it wasn’t the biqaj gentleman, it was the sev’ryn, following her like shadows literally everywhere. Whilst the pianist wasn’t unthankful for the watchful protection, she missed having a moment to herself.

“Are you done, Lady Venora?” The thick southern accent of her companion called out from the other side of the doorway. Darcyanna looked at herself in the restroom mirror with a sigh, before straightening and putting on a smile. She couldn’t fault Lly’en, Halit had convinced her to look out for both herself and Caius since Thera’s attack. It just seemed the matter-of-fact Sevir took things a little too seriously.

“Yes Lly’en. Coming.” Fixing her hair, the pale woman opened the door with a nod.

“Home then?” She said, beginning to make her way from the hall and out the doors towards the courtyard. The dark haired woman shook her head, pointing towards the university gates.

“This way. Caius’ instruction.” She said simply, before leading the way. Darcy paused for a moment, frowning in confusion.

“I wanted to get back actually. I have a few things that I wanted to do, especially for my Letter of Music.” Lly’en turned suddenly and gave the Venora a stern look, to which Darcy pressed her lips together and nodded again.

“Right. This way then.” Resigning herself to the fact that she had no say in the matter, the blonde pulled her cloak closer to herself and walked closely with the skilled woman. As they left the school grounds, Darcy looked around. Her sea blue eyes looked into every shadow, every alleyway. They looked at every rooftop, afraid now more than ever that if she saw her sister in the shadows it was no longer a hallucination.

If she saw Pythera, it was her final trial.

They headed towards the Gazette, much to the blonde’s ire. Caius could have just met her at home. The less they wandered around the city, the better. Making to take the familiar side alley, Darcyanna blinked when Lly’en motioned her to keep walking.

“Where are we going?” She asked softly, to which the Sevir offered nothing more than a knowing smile. The young Venora looked around, trying to decipher where exactly the Gawyne had instructed the bodyguard to take her. Eventually, they reached an unfamiliar three story building, where Lly’en simply gestured at the stairway for her to go up. Glancing at the stairs, at the Sev’ryn, then back again, Darcy grasped the rail and began to climb.

Reaching the doorway of the second floor, she knocked, grabbing the handle and turning it to open the door slightly.

“Hello, Caius? What the sarding...” Her words trailed away as she stepped into the room, mouth agape for a moment as she took in both familiar and unfamiliar sights. Turning in the room slowly, her lips turned up into a smile as she saw the man seated at his desk with Smudge in his lap.

“You didn’t?!” She breathed with a laugh, dropping her satchel on the ground to hold both hands to her face with delight when she saw the familiar pine wood instrument beside him.

“My piano?! How? When?”
Last edited by Darcyanna Venora on Thu Jan 25, 2018 9:17 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 586
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[Mid-Town] Home / Work

Perhaps it was his own recent brush with the subject that had led him to choose the particular topic for his next phase of research for Professor Verigan or perhaps it was just his own typical preoccupation with the fringes of acceptability, but as Caius sat comfortably with his stack of old, crumbly, carefully transported books from the library and Smudge contentedly curled in his lap, his bare feet up on the desk while the hearth fire crackled in the main room, the northern noble read about death. Not the death of mortals, nor the death of the Seven, nor the fiery death of mages, nor the death of kings and queens, no, the three books he'd managed to hunt for between both libraries in Andaris were on the subject of Immortal death—Daia's.

And also as a sort of bonus, he'd left with a single obscure text that he practically had to beg Penelope to let him borrow on who supposedly came before the Immortals, though the idea sounded like more folklore than truth. Originals, the name on the dried, cracked parchment was given, but he wasn't yet ready to read those words yet. He'd get to that unique ancient tome later.

The ginger restoration specialist in the Andaris Library had it stowed away in her office, and Caius had glimpsed it more than once—the tome so old and obscure that he'd hungered to touch its pages with his own often ink-stained fingers for seasons now. Finally, finally, he'd convinced Penelope to let him borrow it for a trial or two. Maybe it was the sling. Maybe he was just that convincing yester-trial of all trials, but as snow fell outside and the young Gawyne waited for Darcyanna to come home for the first trial to the space they'd decided to share together, he meandered through the past with hand-written words on parchment.

Daia, the Immortal of Companionship, Prosperity, Tailoring, and Dance, had somehow managed to garner the affectionate attentions of not one but two Immortals: Ziell, who Caius knew well from his personal family ties, and Ralaith, the Immortal of Wisdom, Bitterness, Time, and Bears (seriously? Bears?). The stories implied that the love was unrequited, that Daia strung them both along in immortal bliss and playful ignorance perhaps, but of course, this was all folklore. The real emotions of the gods seemed far too complicated to contain within mortal convention. Rynlism insisted that the Immortals cared little for mortality, selfishly preoccupied with their own affairs and only using the life that grew and struggled on the face of Idalos as pawns and toys in their schemes. It insisted that mortality was much more worthy of edification and While the young Gawyne could see the why this was an acceptable assumption, he tended to question absolutes.

Some Immortals cared.

Some mages weren't evil.

Or so it seemed to him, anyway. Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps he'd been wrong all along. Naive, as the Lord Inquisitor had once accused. Maybe, he knew nothing and he should stop pretending that he did.

Bogs.

Caius groaned, looking back down to the page that had suddenly lost as much interest as his thoughts drifted from Immortal limitations to his own, from stories of death to ones that he’d witnessed from a far too intimate a distance, only to feel Smudge wiggle in his lap. The small grey dog's little tail wagged eagerly,

"Is it that time, then, good boy?" He whispered conspiratorially, grinning with the timely distraction and setting the open book on his desk, leaning back just so in his chair so that his sharp blue eyes could watch the door.

"Welcome home."

He grinned at her stupidly, releasing Smudge so the little dog could leap from his lap and all but trip over his own self to get to Darcyanna as she stepped through the door and into the living room. Eager to sniff and welcome her, if not get some cuddles, the bulldog was far swifter than the northern noble who stood slowly, careful of the dull ache in his healing shoulder,

"I didn't carry it, I promise—Halit and some of his port friends did all the lifting while I, uh, directed nobly of course. To-trial while you were in class, we sort of snuck in and nabbed it with the rest of your things. It was a ridiculous affair, honestly. I'm sure someone on campus will think your piano's been sarding stolen." He laughed, moving to meet her, to kiss her warmly, "Surprise! Is it okay where it is? I can move a little it if you're not happy ... Maybe."

Caius really couldn't, but he'd sure as the Seven try anyway, far too stubborn about his shoulder and his usefulness than was good for him, having ripped stitches already a handful of trials ago, stuck with them longer for his painful and foolish training escapades with Garrett. Blinking away the stray thoughts, he let his good hand brush her fingers, tangling their hands together with a gentle tug toward the kitchen while the hearth fire crackled and danced, skillfully warming the open space with a blessed number of windows despite the Zi’da chill,

"You want a tour, right? Come on." He smiled lopsidedly, tone of voice quiet and irises revealing a conflict of emotions, aware that this—all of it—was as scandalous as it was foolish, burdened by a sense of urgency to enjoy things together, determined to find even the most insignificant sense of security in the face of Pyhera’s threats.

As much as this was Caius’ longing to give to the delicate pianist, he was not blind to the selfishness he partook in, needful of her company as the entanglements of his new employment blackened his lungs and seared his heart, tongues of executioner’s flames crackling more questions than the solutions they’d been promised to provide like embers left smoldering in a dying hearth. Part of this living together arrangement felt like escapist fantasy, but the printer’s diri also felt a sort of fluttery comfort in its current reality, content to linger in the moment until forced to do otherwise, content to ignore the coming darkness so long as the pair of them could be warm together in imaginary hiding.

The northern noble really had work to do, but he couldn’t resist the allure of a little housewarming first, leading Darcy through the small space with an excited grin. The living room with its lack of a foyer and comfy couch and chairs; the kitchen with its big, warm cooking hearth and little table where someone would have to figure out how to make a real meal in before the hapless nobles starved; the bathroom that could have warm water by blessed vicinity to the kitchen for firewood; the study with near-empty bookshelves, a desk and the blonde Venora’s piano; and a little guest bedroom just in case. Upstairs, of course, was the other bedroom—theirs. While she’d helped to put everything together, to pay for furnishings, she hadn't seen it all arranged and settled, so Caius had the pleasure of beaming stupidly, “It's no Bellesoir, my Lady Venora, but it's not a campus closet, either. Does it suit you?”.
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[Mid-Town] Home / Work

62nd Zi’da, 717


Welcome home.

Darcyanna beamed at the words, swiftly kneeling down to pick up the wiggly little dog to scratch his ears and hug him close, pressing her cheek to the bulldogs slightly wrinkled head before putting him down. As Caius approached, the pianist hugged him carefully around his good side, kissing his lips with an unfaltering smile.

“You sneaky ejat. I had no idea. None!” Moving around to face the piano, she shook her head.

“No, it’s perfect. It’s all perfect. Caius, I...” She laughed again, blinking back sudden happy tears. How had such a sweet, caring, dutiful man fallen into her life? How was he still here after everything her very name had done to him? It made her heart want to burst, grinning as he twined their fingers together and pulled her towards the kitchen.

“Oh yes, the grand tour. All of it!” Darcy said with delight, noticing that the place was warm even despite the many windows that allowed the apartment a sense of openness. The tone of his voice gave her cause to glance at him with a knowing smile. What they were doing was improper by many standards, fates if her parents knew they would probably have a conniption, but it was right. For them, for now, it was right. Oliver knew, and he understood, and as far as the blonde was concerned that was all the permission or approval that mattered.

As they moved through the small apartment, Darcy couldn’t wipe the grin off her face, running her hands over their furniture as they moved from the lounge to the kitchen. The unfamiliar room had a large cooking hearth and a table, the former something Darcy knew nothing about. Perhaps she might need Jirelle to give her some basic tips. Maybe she could learn how to make scones...

Or perhaps she could just hire someone.

Next the bathroom, in which warm water was possible. The noblewoman was delighted by this fact, already planning her first bath in her head. Out again to the study that contained her beloved piano, a desk and a sparse bookshelf, and a guest bedroom.

A guest bedroom! For guests! In their home!

Following the diri upstairs, the blonde blushed with a small chuckle. Their bedroom, their bed. Not seperate beds. One large bed. She’d known this, as part of the costs for the furnishing she’d shared in, but to see it now in all its glory was somewhat exciting.

Turning to the Gawyne, Darcyanna squeezed his hand, before leaning over to kiss him with a laugh.

“It’s perfect. It’s better than perfect, it’s amazing. I can’t believe you did all this...for me. For us.” Leaning down, she stroked the soft grey dog that had shadowed them around the apartment.

“For all of us.” Straightening, she looked around again, her smile faltering a little. It was absolutely perfect, and better than the campus by miles, but it still was unavoidable to remember that Caius had suggested the living arrangement to protect her from The Butcher of Warrick. It felt false all of a sudden, walking around the place as though it was perfectly normal to live together as nobles in some little apartment in the city commons, before marriage or even discussion with parents.

They could play pretend for a while though. Pretending that the bold move would keep them safe from the Valkyr. For now, that was enough for her.

“I had actually planned on getting a bit of study done to-trial. That’s where I was off to before Lly’en encouraged me to come for a walk.” She said softly, smile returning as she brushed off the darker thoughts that nipped at her heels. Glancing back at Caius, her indigo iris’ shifted to lime laced with lilac, and her smile turned broadened.

“Thank you for this. I mean it. Thank you.”
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Caius Gawyne
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[Mid-Town] Home / Work

"It's not perfect." Caius breathed quietly, suddenly serious despite the intoxication of Darcyanna's smile, his expression faltering for a moment at the weighty awareness that this could be seen as all kinds of wrong by not only his family but hers, that this was no more safe than staying in campus housing in the end, that even with the help of willing friends, the threat of death still hung over them like a shadow. Death that the northern noble now felt far more intimate with than he'd ever thought he could be until the promise of his Immortal-given heritage were made good in its time. He sighed and summoned his smile again, squeezing the delicate hand that held his own even as his heart raced in his sore chest,

"But it will do. For now." He laughed dismissively, desperate to ward off the fear and regret. But mostly the fear.

It was genuinely fun to drag the blonde Venora willingly through the space they shared, and he couldn't help but smirk at her face in the kitchen, the pair wordlessly aware of their privileged ignorance when it came to actually surviving on their own when it came to practical life skills such as cooking. Caius could clean, at least, but his talents in the kitchen were limited to stoking an excellent fire in any hearth and sneaking snacks when none of Umbridge's staff were looking,

"Did Lly'en say she'd be back later? Supposedly, she offered to bring some dinner by." He winked assuringly before leading her around the rest of the apartment, "Best for us to figure out something before Cylus snows us in and we starve—Halit's seafaring friends swore up and down that all signs point to a sarding wet and cold next season."

The young Gawyne shrugged his narrow shoulders as if to say he knew nothing of sailor logic or farmer's intuition, given that he was neither, but as a northerner, he believed them and perhaps could make similar predictions had Andaris been familiar like his homeland. Smudge made sure to patter behind them, underfoot, around them from room to room, and Caius couldn't help but grin broadly at Darcy's blush once they stood together in their room.

It was perfect. It was amazing. It really was, though.

He repeated those in his mind, fighting back the other thoughts that haunted him. It was only a matter of time before they were found here, surely. It was only a matter of another season before Gawyne would thaw and his parents would want to know what he'd been doing with his life. Scandalous things. Difficult things. Deadly things. But at least some of it had been in the name of the Crown. The rest? For love.

The delicate pianist kissed him and he hummed, willing to forget the darkness,

"I have plenty to do myself, honestly. Professor Verigan was neither impressed nor at all waylaid by my injuries, and so I've got a pile of research waiting for his review. That's not even the classwork that I've got waiting downstairs on top of everything, but—"

Darcy thanked him and he sighed, "Don't thank me yet. I'm afraid it's not enough." Caius admitted, but his smile didn't falter this time, leading her back downstairs lest the proximity to their larger, more comfortable bed consume his thoughts and offer non-studious distractions in the name of a more private sort of housewarming. Maybe later, however, he promised himself wordlessly, her genuine smile of gratitude distracting him thoroughly and yet not tangling his tongue as much as she usually did, his thoughts painfully focused like the dull ache in his shoulder,

"I feel sarding selfish, honestly. Is all of this for you, Darcy? Really? Indulging in scandalous fantasy is as much for my foolish heart as it is my hope to keep you safe. To buy some time. For us."

He had to put that out there, his tone serious as he made their way back toward the study, toward his pile of books and her piano. Caius was desperate to make it all clear between them, though he was determined to stay the course. Sharing this space together was lovely, and it was to him a promise of things to come even if it was a snub to social expectation. He didn't sarding care what everyone else saw, anyway, so long as he could keep from further tarnishing the name of the blonde Venora he cared deeply enough to risk his for, too,

"Anyway, no more serious shike right now. Done." He mocked an authoritarian tone with a lopsided smile, kissing her again before releasing her hand to wave his at the pile of obviously old books on his desk, "I can't ignore those. And you? What do you need to work on to-trial? Usually, time with you is a break in my studies, so let's see how well things can go when you're already here."
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Darcyanna Venora
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[Mid-Town] Home / Work

62nd Zi’da, 717


To buy some time. For us.

Darcy felt her stomach turn at the comment. He knew it, she knew it. A charade for the sake of clinging to what little good they seemed to have stumbled across together. Her heart ached at the dark reminder of what the Gawyne had revealed the trial after The Valkyr’s violent attack.

91st of Zi’da. This arc.

Another turn of her stomach, as her mind unavoidably did the maths.

Twenty nine trials left.

Forcing the smile to stay on her face, the Venora laughed and shook her head.

“Lly’en barely said two words to me, but I sarding hope so. Either that or perhaps that baker friend of yours is still open?” She side-stepped the comment about a wet and cold Cylus. It wouldn’t matter if Caius wasn’t there.

None of it would.

Chuckling as the diri firmly decided that the serious talk was over, the blonde grinned as he kissed her and waved at his books.

“I uh...I’m actually composing a piece for my letter exams. I think I’ve got the theory side locked down, but the practical. I don’t want to just play something someone else has created. I have other songs but...they are from before. Before you reunited me with Oli. They remind me of dark things.” Moving across the room she had first started in, the pianist picked up her satchel and opened it, drawing out a cluster of music sheets marked in her own hand.

Moving to her piano, in their home, Darcy set the sheets on the stand and opened the lid of the pine instrument. Smiling fondly, she tested a few keys, to be sure they hadn’t been altered by the men and their secret furniture moving.

“It’s already mostly written, I just need to finish it. It has...words.”

As Caius settled into his desk, she would play out a few bars of the song, a little at a time before stopping to alter a note or add another lyric. With each bit that they sat together she built on each piece, going back and repeating full verses until they sounded right, humming the melody softly. The shift of a chord, or the additional key change mid song. A longer trill of the A minor, or heavier movements on the majors. Eventually, she had the mostly finished piece and moved to play it in full, pausing for a moment to smile almost shyly at the Gawyne if he were to look up.

“Don’t judge me, I can’t sing. I wrote the lyrics with another in mind to sing them.”
Song Things
Taking a deep breath, Darcyanna sang the words written to her own mind, barely needing to glance at the scribbling before her. The pianists voice was weak, almost disappearing under the strength of her playing, but it was enough to convey the meaning behind the words. It was so easy to disappear in her own mind as she played the piece, looking over the keys as she danced across them, brow creasing a little as she swayed gently into the melody. Occasionally, her lilac gaze would drift shut, emotionally invested in the song.

As she closed out the piece, Darcy kept her eyes on the black and white keys before her, unable to bring herself to look at the man beside her in the moment after. There was so much of her poured into the music and the words, so many things that meant so much...now it all seemed stupid. Wasted bite and breaks, trills and trials.

Twenty nine left. If Pythera didn’t come first.
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[Mid-Town] Home / Work

Caius watched as his words soured Darcy's expression for a trill or two, but he chose not to dwell, not to comment. They'd spoken enough about the timeline he existed on, they'd spent enough time doubting the reality he'd already long-since come to accept,

"Lly'en just takes a bit of time to warm up to you, that's all, but if you'd rather walk to Thierry's, well, I'll never complain about baked goods." The young Gawyne savored her lips and her grin, leading them both back to the study with is too-warm hands unwilling to leave her person, listening as she described her current project.

Exams. He hadn't taken classes seriously all of Zi'da and suffered for it. Ever since the end of Vhalar, ever since Pythera had left her mark, and every day the end of the season grew closer, Caius found it harder and harder to care about an education that had misled him, that had betrayed him, that had filled him with all the wrong knowledge about all the wrong things. Fuck if he knew what the real world had outside of the insulating structure of academia, of nobility, of his own selfish desires. For Fate's sake, he knew now.

He kept his smile even if his irises churned with emotion for a trill or two, ink-stained fingers trailing away from Darcyanna as she went to sit at her piano and he returned to his chair and his desk, wincing as he re-adjusted his arm in his sling to settle into the seat and prop his feet improperly on his desk, reaching for the worn old tome he'd ignored earlier that trial.

Darcy began to practice and he opened the book he'd won a few trials with by pity from Penelope, unable to resist running the ink-stained pads of his fingers over the hand-scribed letters that filled the vellum pages. Illuminations were beautiful on the main chapter pages, and the delicate handwriting was definitely very old, some of the letters shaped differently than present-day Common but still recognizable once read in context. He focused on the first chapter while she set about perfecting her tune, the sound of broken bars of music still pleasing to him, studying together in their home. Theirs.

The sentence structure was antiquated and obtuse, and Caius found he had to concentrate on making sense of what, exactly, the ancient tome was really talking about. The first few chapters claimed to describe the origins of the Immortals, giving them a mythological parentage greater than even they were and calling them the Originals. This seemed ridiculous—what could be more powerful than the Immortals?—and yet the book described each one and their offspring, not going into any details as to how, exactly, the Immortals actually came into being from their so-called parents, considering there was no gestation or creation story as a mortal would reproduce, though Caius was aware by sheer personal history that somehow Immortals could procreate with mortals and produce offspring. It seemed to be a different process for the Originals, who may have simply formed their so-called children out of sheer will and whim. Whatever the case, the book was full of a depth and richness that went far beyond what even the academic Gawyne was used to.

He wasn't sure how long Darcy practiced or he disappeared into his reading, but then she was talking and he looked up at her, blinking away ancient time from his thoughts, time that clearly hated their hearts with a spite he didn't understand,

"Words?" Caius hummed curiously, aware that his delicate pianist preferred not to sing. He shook his head at her dismissal as if to say her singing was just fine, fingers tracing the gold embossing on the well-aged leather cover as he paused to listen to her play. Quickly forced to look away from the blonde Venora at her words and the music, he bit his lip and closed his eyes instead, unsure of what to say in response to the depths of her heart that Darcyanna was so skilled at putting to music.

He sighed, looking at her staring at the keys instead of looking back at him. Setting the book back down on his desk, he stood and crossed the small space of the study to sit next to her on the narrow piano bench, good hand seeking hers to hold and tangling their fingers together needfully.

"By the Fates, you're amazing, my Lady Venora." He smiled, whispering wistfully, shaking his head before pressing too-warm lips to her forehead.

He was sorry, but he didn't need to say it. Caius had said it enough. This home they shared, even for a fistful of trials, was lovely, and all he felt for her was lovelier. No matter how much he hoped to find some answer in books, he doubted he could find it, the trial of his natural death whispering to him even now, clawing at his thoughts like that undead bear had torn into flesh and bone in the courtyard of the Crown.

He deserved nothing, and yet here he was with everything he wanted ... and not enough time to enjoy it.
word count: 892
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[Mid-Town] Home / Work

Huzzah for collaborative job threads. But equally, a thread which moves the story forward, takes them another step towards what seems to be the inevitable. I was really struck in this thread by two things. Firstly, omg, you two are such nerds I love you. Secondly, and much more importantly - Caius is in a place of having known this such a long time. He's walked with death all his life, and his grief for what he believes (knows...) is to come, it's different to Darcy. She's still raw, still reeling. Lovely writing, both of you!
Caius

Points

XP:15

Fame:Nope

Loot

Ledger up to date.

Knowledge

Deception: Changing the subject
Discipline: Burying the hurt
Leadership: The power of delegation
Leadership: Paying for services well-rendered
Research: Finding the oldest, most reliable source
Research: Cross-referencing information
Research: Questioning absolutes
Research: Separating truth from folklore
Research: Keeping an objective mind with subjective material

Non-Skill Knowledge:
Religion: Immortals: Daia, Immortal of Companionship, Prosperity, Tailoring, and Dance
Religion: Immortals: Daia, the Immortal who died
Religion: Immortals: Ziell's love for Daia
Religion: Immortals: Ralaith, Immortal of Wisdom, Bitterness, Time, and Bears
Religion: Immortals: Ziell, Ralaith, and Daia's strange relationships
Religion: Originals: Those who came before the Immortals
Religion: Originals: Creators of the Immortals?
Location: Rented Home in Andaris (above Ink and Prophet)
Darcyanna Venora: Pours herself into her music
Darcyanna Venora: Looks perfect in your home


Darcyanna

Points

XP:15

Fame None:

Loot

Nope

Knowledge

Discipline: Don’t falter, don’t let your pain show
Politics: Bravery in the face of adversity
Musical Instrument (Piano): Playing whilst singing
Musical Instrument (Piano): Key changes
Musical Instrument (Piano): Writing for lyrical accompliment
Musical Instrument (Piano): Testing for tuning

Non-Skill Knowledge:
Caius Gawyne: Sneakily moved you to your new home
Caius Gawyne: Has some cool friends
NPC: Lly’en - Sev’ryn
Location: Home in Andaris (above the Ink and Prophet)
word count: 321
Image
~~Red in hoof and claw... ~~


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