RP:Are You Sure?
Summary: Irenic runs into a drunk Valrae and a possible mistake happens.
Ocean Side Path
Broken and cracked, shards of white-gray stones stick out of the sand where a pathway once circled around the sea wall. The high tide works feverishly to bury these scars, sloshing and spraying against the stone barricade that prevents the town from being abused by those harsh ocean waves, but the evidence will remain for years to come. Saplings once planted to improve the scene are no more than dreary remains, corpses of dead roots littering the coastline with strings of sea leaves and bits of broken timber. Overlooking the open horizon and rippling in the wind, a war ravaged black flag warns those on foot or at sea that they are approaching iniquitous territory.
Irenic arrived back upon the docks and departed a pirate ship with a group of rowdy men. They weren’t hard to miss and some of them even harder to ignore as they all seemed to be quite drunk looking to get even more plastered. Irenic playing along with the rest with a bottle of rum in his hand and that guffaw of his ringing in the air, “eyo ‘Ric!” One of the ‘companions’ addressed him, “wit dat pretty mug a yers we can all be swimmin in sum pretty booty ‘night!” Irenic scoffed at the gentleman who looked a bit like a bullfrog, “nah, it’s yur prettyyy face thadt’ll do da drick- I mean trick.” Slurring his words and staggering along with them until they are at the intersection, “ya bast’rds go’on. I got sumta do.” The posse whistles and catcalls before stumbling into the broken barrel without the damned avian, but once he’s alone he stands up straight and stops swaying as he was just pretending to be in the same mental state as his company. “Idiots…” He grumbles under his breath before taking the cigarette from the tucked away place on his long pointed ear and lighting it so he can walk his way towards that private beach alone… or so he thinks. He takes a break here looking up at the sky, then towards the direction of the beach before the starts to pour out his nearly full rum bottle.
Valrae has made the mistake of exiting the Broken Battle just as the intoxicated group of pirates are entering. The jeers and lewd suggestions were short lived though as she passed with her head down and muttered an annoyed curse. The witch rolled her emerald eyes and gave one last glance over her shoulder before, unbeknownst to her, walking in the same direction as Irenic. Val trots along happily on her boot clad feet, tight cotton pants stuffed comfortably in them, and pulls her crimson cloak around her more tightly. Her golden hair was pulled back, a long glossy braid swaying behind her. She arched a brow as Irenic began to pour his rum out. "Waste of perfectly good drink," She comments wryly, wondering if the towering set of shoulders and strong back could belong to who she thought they might. "I'd be happy to help you drink it," She teases, "If you really need to be rid of it so badly." The offer came from breath that already carried the heady scent of a woman who was three glasses of red wine in and looking for trouble. Her eyes were lined with kohl and heavy lidded from drink. Her smile was innocently happy and untroubled, even though melancholy threatened to drown her. It was a surreal, painful thing to look at someone and see so many memories while knowing they weren't shared.
Irenic stopped pouring when suddenly the smell of rum and the woman's voice brought an aching in his heart because he was getting the image of a flask in his mind, but he was getting better at hiding these things. His hand smoothed the hair back atop his head before turning to the woman with that mischievous smirk of his in exposing those slightly crowded teeth and handing that rum bottle to her, “by all means.” Within the gravely low timbre of his voice there was a slight rasp to it and his skin was a little more sun kissed than usual matched the ware. He reached down to pick up a beautiful looking sea shell and looked in the direction of the beach he was headed towards, but in deciding to not put her through that in her state he decides to not go and visit that grave today. After taking a drag from his cigarette and slowly letting the smoke linger around his scarred lips he asks, “is there a greenhouse near here?” This way, they could take a different path around the beach and he starts to walk in a slightly altered direction, “how's your night going?” He felt like a stranger, but he is and isn't at the same time. Such a lame question because she seemed like she wanted someone to talk to and he's got those big ears, so - why not?
Valrae | It was probably for the best that Irenic wasn't steering her in his originally intended path, as Valrea's current state was. She nods as if she knows where he's talking about, yes drunk Val knows her way around sure! But she doesn't and mostly worries with the bottle the avian has so graciously shared with her. She brings the bottle to her lips and pauses, clenching her eyes shut and saying a silent prayer before taking a generous swig. The witch gives a satisfied sigh and appraises Irenic anew. "You have excellent taste." She says after a thoughtful beat. She grins then, moves to wrap her elbow around his arm in old habit before she can really bring enough sense to stop herself. "My night? Well. It's been absolute trash." Val answers honestly, smiling innocently up at him. "If I could be perfectly honest with you, and I'm going to be, I think that is also an apt description of my whole entire life." Her golden brows furrow with thought suddenly before she nods. "Yup. Trash." Her emerald eyes watch his cigarette enviously, be it because she wanted her lips to be closer to his own or because she was drunk enough to want a smoke. Truthfully, it was probably both. She takes another drink. "What about you, handsome?"
Irenic offers his own cigarette to Valrae to share and yeah he has a small tin of them, but something about her was familiar even through his mind in a mess. At the rarest of times the matters of the heart overcome matters of the mind and he subtly snickers at her comment on his taste while blatantly looking her up and down, “that I do. You on the other hand,” he motions to himself attempting a light tease at his own accord, “I mean, lady, what were you thinking.” He interjects when she said he night is trash, “why is it trash?” and when she mentions about being honest with him and gentle, “of course.” He looks offended when she said her whole life is trash in a playful manner, but he leaned down in their meandering walk to boldly take a slight whiff of her… so close to her neck. When he rights himself he sarcastically rebuts, “you don’t smell like trash.” A short and low chuckle was earned when she called him handsome, “it’s going. I’ve never traveled with the likes of these men before, but man they can drink. I could hang if I didn’t have to keep my wits about me.” An awkward silence grows between them and he takes a moment to just appreciate being next to her. How comfortable it made him feel, but not all at once. “The past is just that. So leave it there and if you don’t like something, change it.” He felt so much older than her and actually quite foolish for a second…. Mentally reprimanding himself for allowing himself to get so close to her and how selfish he must have been.
Valrae doesn't miss the subtle compliment and can't help the bloom of color that rushed to her cheeks. Irenic's gaze still had the ability to send long, lovely fluttering to her stomach. Only now it was accompanied with the sharp pain of guilt. Would he still think so if he still held the memory that made him want to forget all of her? She takes the cigarette and murmurs her thanks. "I guess it's trash because I'm trash." She says jokingly, giggling and tilting her head flirtatiously when he leans forward towards her neck. She takes a drag from his cigarette and passes it back. "Oh?" A smile teases the corner of her lips. "Keep your wits about, eh? Sounds like an excuse to me." But she waves the hand that holds the rum bottle to motion that she's obviously teasing. "They did seem a little seedy, even for your standards." She admits with a thoughtful nod. He moves on though and she nods again. "I guess you're right but..." The witch shrugs. "It really isn't that easy. I have people counting on me." Her eyes go up again, to search his profile somberly. The mess she'd tangled herself in with Larket had taken her so far away from him.. She'd let herself be consumed by it and forgotten to look out for him, love him the way he'd done for her over and over. She chose a city that gave her nothing but heartache and a man who would never love her over who once was her closest friend. Val liked to think of herself as hard. The street girl who clawed her way out of the gutter and loved herself because no one else could. The woman who made and name for herself, who was loyal to her friends and now a leader to her people. The woman who could keep calm under fire and make tough decisions... But she was soft, malleable to the whims of a man or in the fire of a cause, if love burned brightly enough in her heart. She bent and molded into whatever shape she needed to be, even if it constantly cost her a piece of herself. Irenic had never asked for anything, never bent or sculpted her to his will. No, the selfish one had been her. Her drunken mind struggled with the weight of her past, the daunting reality of her questionable future. The guilt of tossing aside a good man. "I'm sorry," She blurts suddenly, drunkenly. "I'm so sorry for not being the person you needed me to be. I know this doesn't make sense to you, I know it but.. I am sorry."
Irenic was still smirking still chuckling here and there... why was that so easy right now? He’s curious as to why it’s so easy around *her* and it isn't hard to figure out when all he had to do was listen to the longing within his chest. A lingering drag from his cigarette and he passes it back as if it were some ‘hand rolled’ one and offered ‘herbal relaxation’, but it wasn’t and he knew that - let us remember, this is complicated. Possibly their hands caress in the exchange, “speaking of seedy. What was the likes of you doing with the likes of me? Young lady, I am seriously judging your life choices now.” He teases again and chuckles shortly. Damn. Why? Stop that, are you some giddy schoolgirl, Irenic? “On a serious note, I am concerned you never really knew the depth of the type of person I am or the things I’ve done.” His smirk did become slightly more sinister and given the circumstance he would answer any question she asked, but that scares him. Okay. Shut up, Irenic. He becomes halted by her last statement and plants his feet firmly beside her before pivoting towards her to listen. His expression falls and a more thoughtful expression replaces his playful one, “apology accepted.” He struggles with apologies, badly, but something Quizzical said about what he did comes rushing back, “I need to apologize, too. The curse was fraying my mind and the pain was something I’ve never felt in my near hundred and fifty years. I foolishly thought that if I forgot you it would lift the curse, but it did not. The timeline is a bit jumbled and I have a feeling that when my mind was so torn that I woke up in my ex's house…” She can have a name if she asks, but he would spare that information for now, “and thought my ex and I were still together and we…. but I remember a guilt tied to it.” He sighs, “If it makes it easier… I may have not been who you deserved either.”
Valrae had allowed herself to fall into the laughter, the easy way they kept company without the same confusion Irenic felt. In her mind the memories were so fresh and sharp she could still smell the musk of old books, taste the sea salt on his lips, could still feel the comfortable weight of his wings warming her, and could even still see the exact shade of his bicolored eyes in golden afternoon sun. Everything was preserved, protected much more fiercely now that she knew he'd no longer held them for himself. It wasn't that she blamed him, only that there was a profound sense of loss for what they had made between them. What she helped destroy. The witch is fluttering her sooty lashes at him now, smiling. "You're mistake is assuming -I'm- good company." She punctuates this statement with a hit from the bottle and follows up with the smoke. "See, what you don't remember is that I'm the trouble. You should still be worried about your own life choices. I'm much worse than that crowd." She jerks her thumb vaguely in the direction of the drunken pirates. "And I know allll about you. Irenic." She's too lost in this conversation, too buzzed to really notice they've just stopped walking to look at each other. She's ruined the mood with her apologies but the way he's looking at her now makes it worth it. She moves closer, leans on his chest a little as she sways. Her head is tilted back to see him, her sunfall of errant hair and honey hued braid slipping over her shoulder in her habitually disheveled style. Her eyes are dark with memories and heavy with drink. She listens to the avian make his own apologies and can't help but feel herself falling back into selfish desire. Even as her heart twisted to know he was in so much pain, in need while she did nothing. She wanted him to scoop her up, the way he used to when she was too tired or too drunk or even in danger. She wanted to hide away wrapped in the strength of his arms in dusty libraries or smoky inns while they shared the darkest part of their souls to one another without turning away. She wanted so desperately to tell someone, anyone, the things she's done and still know she was worthy of love. Selfishly, urgently, the witch needed the kind of unflinching love she'd tossed away before. It was too late now but her drunkenness could almost convince her otherwise. Val leans up to her toes, swaying.
Irenic quirks that scarred brow down at her, “oh yeah?” His gruff tone turns up a little with intrigue while she is warning him about herself, “this almost sounds like a challenge.” He’s starting to realize how easy this was the first time around and it’s all coming together like pieces of a puzzle. Her next comment about knowing all about him earns another short chuckle, “oh? You do? That seems unfair, maybe I should ‘know allll about you’.” He feels he must be very careful about his next words because this all seems too easy, dangerous and thrilling, but this woman is drunk and vulnerable. Typically he wouldn’t care and let a woman make mistakes, especially if that mistake was him, but there was that nagging feeling in his chest where it felt hot and cold at the same time. She was giving him a certain look that felt like the world was falling away around them and his heart beat faster at the same time. His expression softens while looking down at her and wishing this could be so much easier, but that muscle memory takes over. The back of his hand gently caressed down her cheek while his head was tilted down so that lone silver eye connects to those mossy ones and the other hand tosses their burned out cigarette away so he could gently take hold of her braid. He can smell the scent of old books on the air and the hint of whatever it is that makes her smell so good while the hand holding onto the braid forwards a seemingly innocent touch. Guiding it to swing back and that hand slowly caressed down the length of it starting at the back of her neck all the way down her spine, in turn his fingertips touching those places. His head lowered after she started to lean in and their faces becoming so close he whispers a question, “are you sure?”
Valrae | The witch tilts her head, her lips curling into a teasing smile. "Oh, I don't think you're ready for this challenge. I'm a wreck." Her laugh was throaty and flirtatious. "No, its really not fair at all," Val admits. "I think the ball is in my court, this time." Looking up at him is giving her tunnel vision. If someone interrupted them right now she's not entirely sure she would remember her own name... And he moves to brush her cheek and her heart surges to life with every feeling she'd buried before Irenic's touch felt like fire. The most teeth clenching, unbearable, exciting fire. It burned through her like nothing she'd felt before, not even the first time they kissed... Maybe she was just too drunk. Valrae moved to press her mouth to his, hard, hopefully before he could turn her away. "I'm sure about you," She whispers, rum and smoke on her breath. "For tonight, maybe, just now? Could you take me somewhere?" Her tone isn't teasing or flirtatious now, just open and vulnerable and a little scared. Selfishly, Valrae asks, "Could I have a night with you?"
Irenic allowed the kiss and when she did it made so many aches go away, but he stared down at her while she was pouring out those desires. Fixing her with such an intense look that could only be associated with longing and before she could even finish her last question his hand smoothed up her back in order to grip the base of her braid. The hand that was at her cheek slipped down and only rested on where her shoulder and neck meet, but not in a threatening manner and it seems he’s a little rough when he goes back in to kiss her. A blinding, unbridled passion that seems to have been bottled up for who knows how long and nearly crushing her under the pressure of it. He was hungry and just as thirsty for her, but couldn’t understand why and doesn’t even care or analyze it at this point. “Yes,” his lips muffled against her own, “yes,” between the sounds of their kissing, echoing in the dead night air. If their bodies could press any closer together they may morph into one Irerae being-blob-thing, but she could feel how she made him hot all over and his heart thumping fastly hard within his chest. There was an abandoned home behind her and his legs bent at the knees while that hand left her braid in order to effortlessly pick her up and press her against the outside of the door to the house. Something about the place was oddly familiar - almost like one of the many places they would camp out when they were on the run for a couple months, but he doesn’t remember that. He just remembers this feeling and the atmosphere, how he always tried to choose places with the view of water or the sea to make her feel more at home. His hand feels around for the knob to the door and swings it open to find nothing inside, but a purely abandoned home. As if whoever lived here just up and left everything they had behind, save for the food. Once the heel of his boot closed the door behind them he set her on the empty kitchen counter and roughly pulled himself away, “what am I doing… I barely remember your name… I’ll ask you one last time, are you sure?” His one chilling silver eye stares right into her gaze with his serious tone, but he just couldn’t bring himself to remove his hands from the sides of her face in their gentle hold.
Valrae was helplessly adrift in this sea of liquor and memories and Irenic. The way he held her, pulled her hair, wrapped himself around her was as heady as any rum she'd had. A yelp of surprise, followed with a bubble of laughter, escaped her when the avian scooped her off of her feet. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his jaw while he carried her toward the abandoned home. "I'm not so drunk I've forgotten how to walk," She murmured, really only for form because she loved how delicate and protected she felt when he swept her away. Still, it would hardly do any good to tell him that. The witch felt the empty house settle around her and could almost completely forget that a lifetime had passed between her and the man who cradled her in his arms. It was as if they were still running from her past in Cenril, and when he sat her down on the counter she almost didn't understand what he was asking. Dust and stale air mingled with the scent of her own home. Pale silver moon light slanted through the broken window above the sink and made everything look soft and watery, even the shadows. Her heart ached with familiar sweetness. "I'm sure," She whispers. Val's eyes were dark and a little glassy with drink but they were filled with stubborn confidence. "I know you," The witch moves to kiss his jaw again, work her way to his scarred lips, while her hands busily unclasp the cloak around her neck. The sheet covered furniture loomed like an audience of misshapen ghosts behind Irenic. Her cloak slipped from her shoulders and the clasp knocked against the wooden counter as she pulled away. "Are -you- sure?" Valrae prayed to all the gods the answer was yes.
Irenic hesitates and she can see the moment when the gears shift to click into place a puzzle piece. His hand reaches over his head in order to grab the collar to his shirt and pull it over his head in one fluid motion. In doing so knocked his eye patch loose and then he can see it again, that fiery burgundy red color illuminating her. The shadows play against his taut tanned skin as he’s been in the sun more while abroad. The muscles poking hills and creasing valleys through the tattooed abdomen, but the most disturbing thing she might spot is that crest tattoo that means monster and looks to have been ripped out then sewn back on. Only one memory of their past lingers in his head from when he visited House Dragana recently and it was when they pretty much just did what they are doing now, but in a Library, you know - where he promised to NEVER FORGET HER! Irenic is really the worst and an ache settles in his chest while she kissed him as he knew he didn’t deserve any of this from her, but he’s selfish. “Yeah,” he makes her stop a moment by gently forcing her to look up at him while one of those thumbs gently caress her cheek. It felt like they were standing/sitting there for an era before he finally broke the silence, “I’m sorry, Baines.” He left no time for her to accept his apology and she might know better than anyone that apologies are difficult for the avian, but he was crushing her under another passionate kiss as his hands made their way down to her thighs while he answers her question in sort of that muscle memory automatic way, “about you? Always.”