RP:All I Need
Summary: Valrae returns from a very rough night and her husband makes it all better, or tries.
Behind a Hemlock Grove
You begin to hear the soft sounds of water again, though you are far beyond the waters of Vibrance. Curiosity urges you forward, towards a particularly dark part of the forest and to a strangely well-tended grove of tall hemlock trees. A small path, one worn through the forest by travel, leads behind the grove and to a wide glade. Wildflowers and sweet grass grow hip-high in some places here. A stallion, easily twenty hands high and black as pitch, grazes lazily, unconcerned with his surroundings. A stream runs along the eastern edge of the glade and a well stands close to it. A stable of stone, the word 'Fury' carved above the wide open doors, rests between the well and the cottage. Standing tall in the west of the glade is a two-story cottage of the same stone. Smoke, white and wispy, floats from the chimney and the pointed top of the curiously crooked tower that seems to be attached towards the back. The wooden arched door is bold, berry stained red with a heavy owl carved doorknocker of iron. The windows are wide, with diamond patterned muntin work and stained glass. A small pebbled pathway winds between flower beds, shrubs, and droopy branched willow trees. It leads behind the home and to a fenced garden. A fat, long-tailed inky black cat can be found resting drowsily on the fence in a patch of golden sun and watching you with heavy-lidded emerald eyes. Here, the heady scent of herbs and flowers in bloom greet you. The garden itself boasts plants of all types, both useful and purely aesthetic, in full and clearly enchanted bloom. The herbs and flowers are arranged in spirals around a bubbling fountain. The carved image of a woman stands in the middle of the water with hands cupped around a crescent moon and raised above her head. Cool and clear water tumbles from her fingertips into the wide fountain's base. The forest presses close behind the garden's fence, the tall trees casting long shadows. The rounded and slightly crooked tower is seen more easily from here. Its odd shape boasts a lower oriel window and a balcony on it's highest floor. Ivy climbs and covers the beautiful stone face.
Valrae is late. Not 'the party went on a little longer than expected' late or 'I drank too much and slept it off' late. It was more like 'I was attacked and almost killed so I accidentally put a magical barrier around Cenril and lost both of my best friends in the process' late. As in, Valrae had spent the rest of her blood soaked night clinging to her sanity and screaming until her throat was numb on the beach with the rest of the survivors of the SS Turnt. Firstly, she and Joanie had to get Uma help. When Valrae had seen that she was surrounded with help and healers, she'd left the other witch in Joanie's care and scoured the beach for any signs of Willow, the witch friend who had fallen into the sea. Crystal was dead. But she wouldn't let herself think of that, of her rolling head or lifeless eyes- no. With tired eyes Val called to her friend and watched the shoreline. Until the afternoon sun was beating down on her shoulders and making the blood and gore that still clung to her sour. She never saw Willow. So, the sun had risen and set again before her hand touched the cold metal of her door knob again. It was colder in Larket than Cenril, so the ruined silk gown that clung to her was even more useless than before. Her hair was a tangled mess, salt-dried tresses hanging in napped clumps from loose and twisted pins. The left side of her face was bruised yellow and purple on her temple and cheekbone, her eye slightly swollen and red. Her shoulder and arm had taken the worst of it, probably her hip and ribs as well if she'd bothered to look. Her heels dangled limply in her shaking hand. The enchanted necklace was long gone. For a while she hesitated, her forehead pressed to the wood of the door, savoring the darkness and the peaceful quiet of the forest around her home. The joy that it had brought her to see it still crouched, windows glowing with light and life, in the meadow after Kahran's wicked images had shaken her to the core. The desire to see her husband was so overwhelming it eclipsed her need to savor the moment of relief she felt at being home. She opened the door.
Irenic had fallen asleep in what he thought would be a funny joke when she came back and he was intended to still be up. He had what we would call a french maid’s outfit on, but he had fallen asleep with a feather duster in his hand and it was tickling his neck the way he was laying. Mind you, this was giving him some really weird dream where some lady was hitting on him openly in some tavern, but when Valrae busted through the door to their home he sprang up like a bolt and pointed the feather duster at nothing in front of him while shouting, “my wife will hex you into oblivion!” His start from his dream slowly brought him to realize he was a little cold and when he looked down his mismatched eyes glared when he mumbled, “what the?” It dawns on him that he had been waiting for his wife to come home and there she was in their doorway, he easily leaps over a piece of furniture to get to her, “I was just doing some cle-” His eyes narrow again at her face when he pulls her in for a warm embrace, seeing she was chilled. A quick close of their door and he brings her over to the nearly dying fire before putting another log on and getting her one of the blankets from the couches, “what happened? Who did this to you?” He just barely laid a peck on her cheek before gently kissing her lips for fear of hurting her. “Are you hurt anywhere else. Are you hungry?” He was asking way too many questions and just being too extra.
Valrae watches Irenic leap over the couch with ease, in a fancy maid outfit no less, and can only blink at him. He's telling her the joke he's set up with the outfit - obviously to have her laugh - but abruptly stopped when he catches the state she's in. She lets him pull her to the fire, wrap a blanket around her trembling body, and just sinks into the floor by the hearth. Laughter is rolling from her. The kind that comes from the belly and makes your sides ache. It's all a little crazy really. Her wrapped up, laughing and laughing. She finally manages to get a grip on herself and swipes at the tears that are leaving streaks in the dirt on her cheeks. The witch waves for her husband to come nearer to her before throwing her arms around him and clinging to him as if her life depended on it. She would hold onto him, on the floor, for a while and just cry until she runs out of tears. When she's all cried out and her head hurts and her eyes feel puffy, she pulls back to just look at him. The way the firelight cast dancing shadows on his face, picked out the silver in his hair... She drank it all in greedily, marked every line in her memory. Kahran's visions had shown her her husband's brutal death. To see him, touch him now, felt like the greatest gift. "The ship," She begins, knowing every second she left him in the dark was a cruelty. "The ship the election party was hosted on was attacked. I-I-I-," A terrible shaking takes a hold of Valrae. The witch takes a hiccuping breath and pulls the blanket around herself more tightly. "I'm okay, I am. Could I have a bath before I go on?" .... After soaking, and scrubbing her skin until it was raw to wash away the stench of blood and sea, Valrae would tip-toe back down the stairs. Hopefully to her waiting husband. She's stolen one of his shirts. Her hair is clean and combed and damp. Her face is free of the old make up and her bruises seem worse for it. Her eyes are a little far away and she looks smaller, more fragile than usual. As if this event has deflated her, robbed her of the confidence and power she clothed herself it. She would tell Irenic everything, her friend's death, the magic barrier. Slowly, with more tears, but she would tell him everything while curling into him on their couch with warm tea, that she doesn't drink, under comfortable blankets.
Irenic smirked down at her in her laughing fit, but does allow her to cling to him for a good cry and through their bond she could feel the rage to punch whoever made her feel this way. No matter how long it took he held her there with tears soaking his awful attempt at a humorous costume and, “yes, love. Let's get you cleaned up and out of this gypsy guise no matter how cute it is on you.” He would pull her back just before she takes off for her washroom with a, “but wait…” and a light kiss on her forehead as if she’s the most precious thing in the world to him. Once she comes back down he had changed into some lounge clothes and out of his smoking hot cleaning costume, but once he caught the sight of her in one of his shirts and how oversized it is on her he couldn’t help, but grin widely. He had the tea and blankets ready for her by that time and rubbed her sore feet while she talked about her traumatic ordeal. Eventually when her feet felt better she made her way to curl against him and he opened his arm up to her while one hand played softly in her hair, “I’m sorry about Crystal and Willow and what you went though. I am very happy you’re safe though. A lot of people were lucky you were there.” He placed another soft kiss where her hair parts on the top of her head. Usually, he would go on and on about how dangerous things are and how he knew he should have been there and ‘you could have been killed!’ But he trusted her when she said she could handle this business of her’s on her own and he still trusts her. “I’m here,” was all he could manage to say and do at the moment, “and anything you need, just name it.”
Valrae feels moved to pieces at the tender way Irenic handles her. She felt loved so much it almost hurt. It was strange, to feel loved and to feel his rage and confusion through their bond, when for so long she'd felt only numb from shock. She was struggling with all of her own feelings rushing back to her. It was painful the way putting your numb from cold foot under hot water would be. Irenic was bringing her back from emotional frostbite. "You're all I need," She sighs, pushing the tea aside to throw her arm around him. Even though she was trying to hold some of herself back from the bond, he might feel her guilt and fear. The storm of consuming helplessness and anger that was destroying her insides. "In the visions..." Fear pulsed off of her. "In the visions you were gone. Our home was gone." She looks around the fire illuminated living room, filled with books and now souvenirs of from their honeymoon. The happiest time of her life. "I can't live without you."
Irenic felt her guilt and fear trying to counter it with love and strength while his warm hands smoothed up and down her back. “No no. Sh now.” He gently lifted her chin to look up into those mismatched eyes, “as long as I’m around that won’t be happening and I don’t plan on going anywhere.” His brow turned down in seriousness and there was power in that low gruff timbre of his just before scarred lips planted a loving and equally passionate kiss on her lips. “And I cannot live without you,” when his eyes opened again he was looking at every little bit of her face, how beautiful she was to him and not because of her facial features, but because of who she is and what she means to him. He picks up a little trinket from the end table next to him and holds it loosely in his hand, “do you remember when we were in… Which village was it?” They probably said at the same time, “Aedrebyrg!” A slight chuckle, “and how I had to sock that guy because this was the last one, but you had your heart set on it.” He hopes bringing up the cute little events from their very recent honeymoon would lighten her spirits some more.
Valrae | Sitting on her couch, cozy and warm and far away from the awful night she lived through, it was easy to let the feelings Irenic pushed through to her to sooth her. The tension that had wound her body tight was slowly loosening as she rested on him. The witch sank into his kiss and was struck again by the fire that lingered on her lips. Looking at him, (how handsome her husband - husband, why can't she stop thinking that word, was!) she felt safe. He pulls away, as always she makes mock whines about it, and shows her one of her favorite statuettes. They say the name of the village together and Valrae is laughing again, enjoying the memory. "You have to admit, the guy really needed a good punch anyway!" She tilts her head at him and grins. "Just like that nasty little tavern lizard who thought she could just climb on your lap!" And they go on like this for a while, Irenic helping her slowly forget the terror in Willow's eyes and the way Crystal's blood stained her dress. Eventually, Valrae fell asleep on her husband's chest as he told her stories and kept her feeling safe and loved. So loved.