RP:Beauty and the Beast
Location: Picnic Area
Small trees cast some shade onto the tiny hills here, making it a great place to sit and relax. A few tables have been setup here for any that wish to sit and eat, as well as some firepits for serious cookouts. All around people sit, eat, and converse, there is even some couples have brought their own blankets to romantically enjoy a packed meal. All in all everyone is taking advantage of the good weather to take a day away from his or her daily routine. You hear a distant trickling of water, a small brook, and you even see an occasional pixie wander by, attracted as they to the lovely places like this. The slightly cool breeze brings the smell of wildflowers to your nose. To the west are the small rolling hills of the park while to the west and north is a tall cliff.
It was quite telling, the elf thought to herself as she wandered by the river’s bank, that she had sought Rho out to let him know of her desire to take in the fresh air and relative non threatening peace of the parks of Xalious. Normally, she would have just taken off on her solitary stroll, and danger be dammed-not that there was likely to be any danger in watching families at play packing up for the evening. The sun was inching its way towards the horizon-the chill of evening on setting, and yet she sighed with contentment, letting the relative peace of the place soak into her still on edge soul. He was here, somewhere, she knew watching over her-and a part of her wished, for just a moment that he would abandon formal role and walk her side as a friend. She felt in need of his presence.
With the elf ever so lost in the depths of her mind, perhaps thinking of things that were not yet true between them, she would not have noticed just how close her warder was to her person. Much as he often did come to her at her heart's summoning, his paw suddenly appeared at her shoulder. The leathern paw gingerly clasped; the fur coated digits offering the slightest of attentions to her. "...I would have thought you'd prefer to retreat to your home on Rynvale," announced the husky voice of the wolf behind her, "I would not have held it against you if you wished some time for yourself there." There was an irony in his words, that he admitted that he would not have followed her to the island, a more dangerous location, but yet he was still at her heels as soon as she had left for the western mountains.
Arien paused in her walk as the leathern paw of the male came to rest upon her shoulder, and she could not help the instinctive tilt of fiery head towards the silken darkness of the fur there-she was however, able to halt the action before pale cheek made contact with his person. Head turned away as she fixed her gaze to the water as it rippled by, her words a quiet murmur that might wrap around the wolf. “The island is itself a living reminder of the conflict that must come.. I cannot be there without thinking of it..I needed.. to get away. It’s nice here - I have, pleasant memories of this place.” It would not be the first time she walked the banks of this river at the side of one for whom she cared too much. “I enjoy watching the children at play..” though it stirred within her an ache for the children she had never had..might never have. She lifted emerald gaze to search the eyes of her warder, before falling to trace the patterns upon his dow with that look. He was so important to her..but could he provide everything she needed, meet those secret desires of which she could not speak?
Rhocielle dropped his paw slowly down the trail provided by her arm as she spoke; it was a reluctant release of her being. A subtle compromise for his desire to embrace her, to take her away from the troubling thoughts of an impending battle; his fingers brushed her hand before they returned to his side. "I have not been to this village in some time, at least, not long, when I have passed by..." he uttered, pushing aside now almost forgotten memories of a vampiress that the lands had now forgotten as well. His muzzle scrunched in a mild irritation to the recollection. So long ago, he mused silently to himself. When Arien turned to face him, there would be no evidence of his brief displeasure, only the stolid visage of the wolf that was always at her side. Granite met emerald momentarily before her gaze fell elsewhere, and yet, still upon him. Though he often saw in the depths of her eyes what troubled her, the black Lycan found himself asking tentatively, "...Speak your mind, elf?" So few times did the pair address each other as their respective races, that it had come to be more of an endearing term that meant more than either would admit at present.
His touch on her skin had at once the effect of making her desire more of the contact, and yet want to flee from the same. Everything about him confused her, made scrambles of her logic and instinct. She wanted to hold him- the realization so powerful in the instant that she had to close her eyes and curl her fists against the desire. She felt so small next to him, so fragile; her own slender frame out massed and out sized by the power and breadth of his armored own. It was not a sensation to which she had been accustomed, before him. Had there really been a time before him; before her dark shadow? His questing words penetrated the haze that was the tumult of her thoughts. How could she speak her mind..without risking whatever currently lay between them-that working partnership that ran like a smoothly oiled machine. Some steps taken, could never be retrieved. The fear would show in her eyes-she had been hurt, so many times. She took a step that brought her closer to the lycan, until she stood face to face with him-or rather, face to breast. A pale hand came up to rest upon the plated chest before her and she would lift her eyes to explore his sober face again. “ I don’t know what to say..how to put it in words..” Emerald gaze became almost pleading gems in the twilight dusk. “Help me to speak Rho..” His muzzle, if lowered was a breath away, her scent, likely curling up into lycan lungs. Briefly the elf would touch pale nose to dark nostrils, the heat of her breath perhaps, dampening soft dow upon his tattooed muzzle.
Rhocielle looked on with soft intent to his grey hues as she approached him. The elven woman appeared so vulnerable, reminding him of when they took to walking along the beach; she had been in a dress that complimented her femininity, and he in black armor that exuded the ferality of his truest core. They were worlds apart. Still, he found himself seeking her in his waking hours, and desiring her in his slumbering hours. An often rehearsed gesture, his paw rose to rest upon the hand that made contact on the blessed metal. Serene, but fearful and troubled, gaze looking up to him, and his own lowered to reach out to her as if through sight alone. She nearly begged his salvation in the fragile emerald pools that he focused upon; like an embedded anchor for her to secure herself, his own granite orbs replied. A second leathern paw suddenly touched her pale cheek, warm to the touch. He could touch her, smell her, even embrace her if he could will his arms to react. The paw retracted from her hand reluctantly, loathing to break contact for even the brief moment required to replace his paw upon the small of her back. In the small gap left between anxious lips, a tender kiss of breath was shared as the wolf held the elf in his arm. Mingling scents accepted by his senses, he closed his eyes slowly and lowered his ears in submission to her heart.
He didn’t speak..and yet said so much more than words ever could. She closed her eyes, tilting her face into the touch of his paw like hand upon her cheek; her own hand, splayed upon his breastplate, smothered now by the girth of his own. In the stillness of that moment, as on one evening before the fireplace, small thumb stirred beneath covering paw to stroke the inner lining of padded flesh. And then, the cool winds of evening were brushing against her exposed skin as the securing warmth was removed. Lids fluttered open over gems in protest, but already she was being drawn more deeply into his embrace-into the safe haven that was his protective hold. A second palm came up to rest upon his chest as if to brace against the lure, only the elf did not push against the enfolding arms. For the briefest of moments, her own arms served as the final barrier to the full contact of their bodies, and then they slid hesitantly and with perhaps agonizing uncertainty, up over the broad shoulders of the lycan to lock around his neck. Were it not for respective plating, she might feel his heart beating and he her own. Close..so close. The mingling of breath was a promise that teased and tortured. Had a kiss ever held such determining weight? It would be the touching of lips that might open a door best kept closed. “Rho...” His name was almost a plea on her lips..but a plea for what? A part of her knew that he would never take the step to close the distance between them..When would she find the courage to do it?
An ear flickered to life to the sound of the dulcet tones of her voice as her lips parted further to slip out his name. Slender fingers interlaced behind his neck were constantly caressed by the gentle lush of his fur. Soon enough, both paws would find each other behind her; not laced together however, they protectively held her by her back. Eyes did not open. They did not need to. So much time had the black Lycan been in the company of the elf, that her visage was etched in his lupine mind. And to the wolf, her scent told all and more. The scent of her lips told of a kiss that had not yet come to pass, of feelings that were not yet admitted. Limbs drew the elf closer still to him, increasing the assault on his senses from her proximity. The Lycan yearned to kiss her, to seal their lips in a bond that was already present between their spirits. Their minds often showed to work as one. Was the same to be said of their hearts? Blame could be placed upon the breast plate coating his chest. Perhaps physically their hearts danced to separate rhythm, but it would appease him nevertheless to feel her chest's steady drumming for his presence much like his own would call for her. "Ari...," his primal, and yet humane, voice spoke out in a question to her plea. So much he himself would plea for her, but her warder was as protective of her heart as he was of her body.
Arien made the subtlest of adjustments to her face, removing herself from that temptation of mingled breaths. Emerald gaze found slate grey orbs again for a lingering moment before falling away.. When she spoke, it was in a whisper that even his ears would strain to pick up. “It’s nothing..” the lie slipped out.. “Just, hold me..” The moment was past, the weakness of breaking point surpassed..and her heart broke a little for her lack of courage, and for his nobility of spirit-each in its own way, responsible for denying the pair all the hidden promise locked in a single fragile moment. Slender arms fell slowly away from his neck, only to seek and find the anchor that was the trunk of his torso. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and brought her cheek to rest upon his broad shoulder, standing now, quietly in his embrace. She blinked in the onset of darkness, cursing the tears that threatened and the lump in her throat that hindered speech. She would take of him, what he could freely give..and what she was capable of accepting. Right now..it was this; the feel of him in her arms, his breath on her nape-and the knowing, that he would be there, her dark shadow.
Rhocielle dropped his ears heavily against his scalp as her lips retreated from his own. It was not yet their time. She wished that he only hold her, his ears acknowledged; she wished that she could do all her heart desired, his own soul reminded him. Lesser men would have fallen prey to impatience, for kisses that would not yet be given, for admission that would not yet be uttered. They would have left. He was not a man, and he would not abandon her. "...Of course, Ari...," her warder muttered tenderly to her ear as she set her head upon his shoulder. Paws repositioned themselves, one at the small of her back, another at the blade of her shoulder; the wolf embraced her completely. Nothing spoken by either soul in the eternity of their shared minutes, his muzzle lowered further to rest against the crook of her neck. Fondly the dow of his cheek would caress her skin, and he replied to her silent plea for his forgiveness, for her heart's forgiveness at her lack of courage to claim what she wanted. "...Don't apologize, dear elf. I am still here..." The night fell deathly silent around them, save for a sound that none would ever hear. His heart howled for hers.
~~The Next Morning~~
Location: The Fold Barracks and Prisoner Quarters
A short southerly trek across the compound and down a small incline, brings you to the sprawling barracks of the Fold. Nestled against the tree line, the facility serves as both home base for the clan’s officers and as well as ground zero for the containment of enemy captives. A broad porch wraps around three faces of the building looking out into the clearing, comfortable benches inviting you to sit and enjoy the sights and sounds of the forest. Inside, you discover the quiet comforts of home away from home; a common room, dining room, and hallways of doors, upstairs and down, each leading to the personal quarters of the officers taking up residence there. Within easy reach of the officers’ quarters you find the holding area for enemy captives. This containment area, despite its purpose, is airy and well lit, and under constant guard when captives are hosted. Several cells are present, their make up differing according to their intended ‘guest;’ some are magical, and others constructed of materials intended to make escape all but impossible by traditional means. Each cell contains a cot prepared with fine fresh linen, and a simple table and chair which may be used for dining or any other personal business the captive may wish. Miniature access ports are present, through which food and water may be passed. The facilities are well maintained, and are clear reminders of the military function and purpose of The Order which they serve.
Oddly enough, the wolf had awoken from a rather restful sleep. Dreams eluded him consciously, but somehow he would imagine what he had dreamed of with almost perfect clarity. Armor still not donned, Rhocielle lounged in one of the chairs in the common room with only his black clothing to mask his fur. His ears flicked at random intervals, listening to any sound that would otherwise alert him that the High Elf had risen up from her own bed. Since his grey eyes first opened to focus upon the bare ceiling of his room, his heart had been plagued with persistent wishes of greeting Arien in her room; his mind chained him in shackles of logic and reason. It would be too much, too soon. He knew her to be easily frightened when their intimacy grew, and so the warder resigned himself to the common room.
Arien, unlike her wolfen warder,-had- spent the night in restless dreaming. Dreams in which she had had the courage to reach out and lace her fingers within the fur of his muzzle and take what her heart had craved. She had awoken with a heart ache..a heaviness of regret that she had not felt- not since the hours in which she had been touched by the opportunities lost with another wolf. Except..this regret ran deeper-she would not have had to steal what she suspected would be willingly given. The elf padded into the common rooms, clad in the soft leathers and linens that she wore when she went out to hunt. Her bow slung over her shoulder, she was ready to release some of the inner frustrations locked within into the taut pulled string of a bow, and the released energy of an arrow. Emerald gaze found him immediately-a dark shadow lingering in wait as if summoned once again by tumultuous thought. “Hello Rho..” the words were soft, hesitant..her gaze searching his own for signs of what he might be thinking after their precarious moments together.
Rhocielle turned his muzzle to the faint creak of her opening door that announced her approaching presence. His eyes were already upon her when she greeted him. "Ari...," he said with a dip of his head to her. A formal gesture, but his ears were low against his head and his eyes said more; they always did. Silver gaze told the elf that her warder had no regrets for what was, or was not, between them the previous evening. Ever patient, the wolf rose from his seat and walked over to her, aware of her bow and quiver. Towering before her, he was likely to make her feel meek and vulnerable, even with the absence of his armor and weapon. Whereas he would usually surrender to only caressing an arm when he was being affectionate towards her, he dared to go a step further. A leathern palm planted itself upon her cheek, and he spoke out to her warmly, "...Safe hunting, elf." The Lycan knew he would not be able to accompany her, should not accompany her. Their hearts strained too much towards each other to resist her fears and doubts again after such a recent moment of intimacy.
His eyes answered her silent query, and she felt her heart shift within the cavity of her chest. The elf, stood still then, as he rose to approach her; he came close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his form, now free of the barrier of armor. His height in such proximity required that she tilt her head slightly to maintain contact with that silvery gaze, and she turned her face into the gentle touch of his leathern paw. Still, no words passed from her lips; her silence speaking volumes yet, in her willingness to accept the increased intimacy of contact. She considered for a moment asking him to accompany her..but the ache ran too deep, the unintentional scarring too fresh. She needed to be alone. And so, a gentle nod only, would indicate her acceptance of his well wishes as slender hand would reach up to place a palm over the paw like hand that rested lightly upon her cheek. Fiery head would turn then, into the touch, and warm lips would press a kiss that lingered a moment too long into the leathern palm before the elf would lower her own hand and step out of his proximity. She exited the commons into the light of day without looking back.
Rhocielle remained still as he watched her with a warm focus. Her nod came as expected. Too much, too soon, he reminded himself. A flash of surprise streaked across his silver hues as he felt her lips, cherished lips that he wished to seal with his own. Still, he said nothing. Nothing ever needed to be said between the elf and the wolf. Clawed tips of his digits tenderly brushed her cheek as she withdrew from him. The paw that hung in the air, without her touch, slowly drew back down. So close, and though Arien walked now further away from him, the Lycan knew she was now much closer to him. In an impulse of his heart, his paw reached out once more; it yearned to clutch her arm, to draw her back, to claim her. Too late, she was beyond the reach of his limb. Her back turned away and without a second glance, she would not know how close her wolf had been to deciding for their hearts. Alone again in the common room, he snorted softly and dejectedly before he too retired to his room to retrieve his armor and weapons.