RP:The Bodyguard
Part of the Vakmatharas' Jar Arc
Summary: Brennia seeks out Daermon this time, in heed of Corvo’s adamant advice. It doesn’t go how Daermon would have expected… At all.
Camp Fire
As you step into this dark area you see smoke rising up from a pile of burned wood. It would seem someone was here not long ago, camping. Curious that anyone would even desire to camp here, you take a slight look around. This dead end resembles the exact area of the twisted trees, with the exception of the tiny camp. As you glance down you can see foot prints, leading back into the forest, vanishing off. Your only way is back east. You can't help but wonder where the person has gone.
Brennia decided that this time she would try and find him, attempting to not use the bond or the ring. It was a around a week since she’s seen him after that little fight they had. She’s entirely uncertain of what he will even say or do, but she's rehearsed it over and over again in her mind… When the time comes will she remember it, though? They never seem to think clearly around each other and then she started to doubt this decision as her footsteps slowed within the dark forest. She made it this far though, dangers included and that’s saying something right? Her wings tucked closely around her like a cloak again and her hair left down cascading over them, but those soft leather boots press on. She wouldn’t be surprised if he already sensed her through his favorite scent unless he was drinking again and she sure hopes not… It always makes her feel guilty when he’s like that. Her deep blues dart around the darkness which wasn’t entirely too hard given her excellent farsightedness, but she was looking for the glow of a campfire.
Daermon was not drinking, not this night. He was sitting beside his fire, which was more for show than anything else, as he didn’t need the heat, or the light. Habits from the living that he’d never quite lost. Alone, or so he thought, he was reading, lost in his book, close enough to the flame to only smell smoke and burning wood, so her approach was completely a surprise. He was shirtless, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, stretched along the ground, back propped on a fallen tree and legs crossed at the ankles. He looked the picture of relaxed, and even his hearing only picked up on the snapping cracks of the fire. It was unlike him, but then, he wasn’t always so paranoid. Just most of the time. However, when you are immortal, and very hard to kill, you could afford to let your guard down a little.
Brennia looked him over, of course he’s shirtless. Her demeanor doesn’t change though, she's on a mission. Her eyes travel to the fire before him and she nears it for no real reason, but possibly for the distraction. Under the cover of her cloaking wings she unlatches the necklace which holds the ring he gave her for protection and looks at down at it, “how are you, Daermon?” She starts out cordially with her usual sultry alto timbre, but didn’t move deep blue eyes from the ring rotating in the palm of her hand, “where did you get this thing? What’s it’s story?” He seemed to always have one and he’s usually not one to keep something just because it’s shiny. Before she offers it back she’d like to know if there was ever any real sentiment behind it or not.
Daermon looked up, letting his shock show a moment before his face became passive. He closed the book, using a fallen leaf as a bookmark, then met her gaze across the fire. He was quiet for a long moment, studying her. “I’m well Bren. Yourself?” he says, sitting up a bit more formally. “Can I offer you anything? I have some food, a bit of drink.” he suggests, then looks down at the ring in her hand. “That...it was my father’s.” he admits softly. “Not the signet ring of course, as I could no longer be associated with it, but it was one that had been passed down along with the signet. A set. He gave it to me the day I was taken from them.” he offers, looking away and into the fire. “Should I assume you don’t want it anymore?” his voice was soft, yet there was a hurt there, even now.
Brennia took a deep breath, “I’m… conflicted.” She answers his question on her well being and then shook her head at his offer, “no I’m fine, I had something back at The Corpse.” Feeling herself starting to smile she distracts it by mentioning, “that’s sweet.” Her palm is offered to him with the ring cradled in it, “if it is only for protection then I don't believe I will need it much longer… Depending on how this next conversation goes.” She continued to look into the fire, “there was a summit at the Chamber of Raan in Schezerade. They went over bills to be voted on and I went to say my part because if these do pass I may be out of a career and home.” Remembering how disappointed she was when someone didn’t show to support her she glanced all the way down to her feet, “after which a man stopped me outside and offered me something.” She finally was able to lift her gaze to him trying to read him, but probably not realizing at all how this was sounding and how someone might take it at first.
Daermon nodded as she spoke. “Yes, I know. I was there. You were very well spoken as you laid your objections. Unfortunately I wasn’t following closely enough when you were attacked, you and that black winged avian. I did however catch the assailant a short distance away. Let’s just say...he won’t be throwing anything again...ever.” he says, admitting to having been in the chamber, to following her. How would she take that? Was it creepy? He however looked at the ring in her hand. “Not only protection...no. I know it is too masculine, too large for you, but it was all I had at the time to ensorcel to summon me if you needed me. For whatever reason. But yes, your safety was my main concern. You don’t need it?” he asks, for he did not know the rest of what her and Corvo had spoken of, thinking this was her way of cutting him away.
Brennia’s expression sweetened a little, “really?” She was flattered he was there and she let out a mumble of, “at least someone showed their support of me that day.” When she looked down at the ring as he did, she wondered if she somehow accidentally summoned him there just by fiddling with it. She want’s to see what he did to the attacker, but didn’t make that will strong enough between them or even say it. Still holding out the ring she knew he’s clarified, like, twenty times since his return and she nods once, “more than just protection? Or is this to-” she decided not to get into again. “Well… Something has come up and I don’t want to impede what you’ve got going on in your own current path… Here in Vailkrin.” Her free hand motions around them, “how is… Whatever that is, going?” Her eyes unmoving from his face, still holding out the ring.
Daermon slowly reached out, and for a moment, she might feel like he was about to take it, thus severing the final physical piece holding them, but instead, he closed her hand around it slowly. “Keep it. If you don’t need it, then throw it away, but it was a gift. I’ll not take it back.” he says, slowly pulling his hand away from hers. His eyes seemed especially bright in the light of the fire. “Yes, really. You looked beautiful, radiant as you stood before those assembled and laid bare your facts, your feelings and to my eyes, your heart. You love your home more than I could ever love one place.” he admits, casting a gaze around the forest. “It doesn’t. I have not seen the banshee of Larewen in some time, and without direction, I can do nothing for her on my own. I will stay loyal to her cause, but at the moment...I merely stay here out of lack of anywhere to go.” he admits. “I have no home. The last two are...lost to me.” he says, looking to the barrier. “House Dragana sealed away and ours...yours...is a college now.” He turned that strong gaze back to her. “I will always support you...even if it must be from the shadows and in secret.” he says, not knowing why she had really come all the way out here. Surely she could have gotten rid of the ring, or left it for him to find. She didn’t need to endanger herself by coming out alone to find him. Slowly he rises to his feet, moving close, almost as if he was about to embrace her suddenly and without warning, but it was only to the pocket of his duster which was just past her, to retrieve the small, black lacquered cigarette case. She might feel the way their bond shuddered though, showing how badly he had wanted to embrace her. He offered her a cigarette first. “Why have you come...truly?” he asks, softly. “Not that I don’t enjoy seeing you...but after our last...talk, I would be lying if I said it didn’t hurt.” he admits. She’d feel it then, his emotion overwhelming his control on the bond. The way he’d been wrecked with her seeming rejection after their last meeting. Yet his words were kind, soft, pained, yes, but he was only sharing, not trying to hurt or guilt. He was very close now, standing before her, face to face, her hot, radiating heat, him cool, as cool as the night around them and the stolen warmth of the fire. Her heart beat loudly to him, wildly, while his didn’t beat at all. “Are we destined for this? To stubbornly dance around each other? To feel love and pain and regret when we look at each other?” he asks, still so soft and gentle. “I’m sorry...I’m sure you are not here for that.” he admits, and for a moment, it’s as though he is going to touch her face, but his hand only twitches, the thought only that, a thought, perhaps loud in the bond. He burned to touch, but didn’t dare. She had rejected him this time. So she must bridge it, or let it lie. “Brennia...why are you here?” he asks, and it felt like so many other questions, like all the ones between them that matter. What choice would she make?
Brennia watched him and when he comes close she doesn’t shy away, but she felt his desire to hold her and her own arms curve around herself under the cover of her wings after palming the ring once more. Possibly her cheeks darken at his kind words, “thank you. I was actually really nervous,” a subtle shrug, “it seems foolish now to be so nervous because - what would they have really done?” Her deep blue eyes look up to him in their awkward closeness, “but I was.” When he talks of homes she glances around to his things, “it doesn’t seem very… Comfortable here.” Does comfortable even matter to a vampire? When he offers a cigarette she shakes her head once, “no thank you, Daermon.” Then a question is posed before deliberation on his part, but she continued to look cool on the outside and possibly a little tired. He’s going on about their awkward predicament and she replies between words, “I hope not…” Even though things are about to get much more complicated between the two. The question is posed again and while she explains she doesn’t move from her spot so near him, “the man you saw when I left the summit was just as impressed with my end of the debate. As it turns out, him and I have a lot of the same views… Aside from when it comes to my safety because, you see, he’s been involved in the political game and he thinks I should get serious about opposing Vermillion Draft as Senator. He offered to be my campaign manager, but after being witness to an attack he gave me one of two options… That I choose someone I trust with my life to become a constant bodyguard, or I would be assigned one.” She eventually looks back up at him, “that seems easy enough to ask for a bodyguard, but I don’t know him. I won’t know whoever would be assigned to me and even then who knows what Raven would do to them if something happened.” Worry slowly changed her expression, “a week ago I told you the college was just attacked by a group of Flewminati. They wounded a few of my students and breached the protective enchantment which lead to a friend of mine getting kidnapped. They tortured him for information and he’s just a human, but he said it was their ploy to make sure I didn’t show any interest in running for Senator.” She took a deep breath, “the only person I trust like that and that is powerful enough against them is… You.” She looked back down at her feet as if the grass and dirt was so suddenly interesting, “it’s probably going to be very boring and I don’t know what else he will request of you, but does this sound like something you would be able to do?”
Daermon noticed the way her arms folded tighter around her form and he took a step back, letting a bit of distance open between them. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. “It’s not very comfortable at all. I have moved past my ranger and roving days and don’t much care for sleeping outside in the wilds. It’s a bit of a downgrade after a mansion, then a castle.” he admits, his smile shy, sheepish, but seemingly mirthful and warm. When she turned to the more serious topic, he listened more intently. “Yes.” he says simply, then realizing that was a poor answer, he clarified. “Yes, I would do it. Is that something you’re sure you can live with? Is that something you would even want?” he frowned softly. “Wasn’t one of the reasons you said we couldn’t work with your new position was because I’m a vampire and not an avian? How is having me as a bodyguard any better?” he probes, wanting to be sure she was positive about this. It was a huge step, for both of them. He suddenly felt foolish half naked with her there, which was silly, as she’d seen far more of him, but he turned and found his shirt, moving to slip it on, to hide his scarred and muscular form.
Brennia’s wings finally opened up more so she can put the necklace around her neck, but she holds the chain out to him for assistance even though they both know she’s more than capable. Her eyes casually travel along his scars and muscles before they are covered up once more and it looks almost like she went to playfully pout, but didn’t. With her wings open he can see she wore more of what she used to with that simple wrapped bright blue blouse leaving that bite mark exposed and tight leather leggings, “I had taken a few days off of my responsibilities to think about it. Not only this, but what it would take from me to do this. You must understand that I may not be present around you even though you will be with me always. This isn’t going to be easy and if I want to keep myself safe and my students safe as well… This is what I must do and if I have to give up teaching for a while then I at least need the person who has been the most loyal to me without question.” To answer his original question more directly while she turns her back to him, parts her wings and pulls up her hair so he can reattach the ring he gave her. “I’ve decided to run an honest campaign, I am me and there isn’t anything extraordinary about my past because my extra curricular activities from back in the day will get brought up. So, if I stand by my past rather than hide it unlike my opponent then the people will at least hear me out.” If he had obliged and helped her with her necklace she’d weaken a little and one of the wings would bend back toward him and rest there, “I want changes that will make Schezerade more prosperous again and I think putting the racism between our races to bed,” she smirks with a soft and short chuckle at the bad choice of words, “will show I am for change. My path will be change for Schezerade under an honest campaign.”
Daermon moves without hesitation, taking the necklace with its ring and slowly moving to fasten it around her throat. His fingers lightly brushed his mark on her and for a moment, even with the chain latched, he couldn’t move away. Her wing moved, pressing against him, and he found his hand moving into her soft feathers. “I have walked the path of the political...Yes, it is demanding and deadly and you will need those you can trust. I’ll do this, but you must promise me something as I promise my loyalty to you.” he says his hand pressing against his mark on her, his hard, cool form pressed against her warm and softer one. Slowly he moved back, turning and moving with her to face her. “Your work will be important, very important and I understand that better than most. But you must promise me that if the time comes, and I tell you that you need rest, not work, or you need to eat, you must not fight me. I will not be arbitrary about it, but I know you better than any other.” he says, meeting her gaze. “Trust that I will let you push yourself to your limits, but I will not let something happen because you are exhausted or malnourished.” he says, his hand cupping her cheek. “Promise me that, and you will have me completely.” he says. He hoped she had considered all of the ramifications. He would have to be with her constantly. Watching over her as she slept, sleeping in the same room when he could, always there, even when she wasn’t technically there as she put it. He knew what this meant, and while it might not ever repair what was broken between them, it would help the redemption he sought.
Brennia let her hair fall down over his cold hand and didn’t move from him because if he could sense it, she likes him near. When he’s asking for her to promise things those dark blue eyes lock into glacial ones once he made his way before her. She starts to fiddle with the ring once more as she’s been doing, like it’s become one of her favorite things to do until she realizes what she’s doing and gently puts it away between her bosom. “I think I can put my stubbornness aside for that,” her lips curve up into a half smile looking up at him. A hesitant step into him before glancing around at his belongings and her eyes traveling back to his, “I hate it here,” mostly because she cannot stand to see him alone and living like this, “take us home?” She means right now and through the shadow plane, leave all your stuff guy. Or not?
Daermon allowed a moment of surprise to show on his face. Not take me home. Take us home. He might be reading into things too much. Regardless, he nodded and slipped his arms around her. He closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against hers, breathing in her scent and pulled his power. They slipped into the darkness and when they emerged, they were back in her bedroom. It was still empty, and the vampire had to assume she had still not heard from the man she was with. He couldn’t ask though, as it was inappropriate and not his place. He held her for a few moments longer than necessary, and she might feel the reluctance when he slowly had to drop his arms. He felt awkward suddenly, unsure why, like a gawky teenager. “I’m a bit hungry.” he says softly. “Do you think the kitchens are still open?” Oh gods Daer...you are lame.
Brennia allowed the lingering hold after their transfer to the college and held him in return just the same. Her blue eyes studied him a moment in his awkwardness as it was not like him in the least, but she kind of found it endearing. “I’m sure there’s something in the larder,” her light footsteps glide around him as her hand caresses the side she passed with a wing to follow. After slipping from her boots she was brought to the wet bar within her room and she starts mixing herself a drink, “I thought maybe we would have a celebratory drink to your new title as head of secret service?” A quirk of her brow as she makes a cheeky joke, “what an impressive job you’ve acquired, wonder who you had to sleep with to get such a position.” Another soft and short chuckle, yes, she laughs at her own awful jokes and yes she knows that’s lame. “And then, once we’ve relaxed a little… We can see about a snack.” Her wings shift and rotate a half a second, preening, before they calm and fold close to her curvaceous frame. A faint shouting of some Irish accent can be heard way down the corridor and she brings whatever drink Daermon demands to him, “and tomorrow I’ll introduce you to my guard dog, Aevo.”
Daermon didn’t know where the sudden rush of awkwardness had come from, and as quick as it had appeared, it was gone. He shivered slightly as her warm hand and wing caressed him as she moved to the wet bar. He didn’t have any boots to take off, having been shirtless and barefoot when she’d come, so he padded softly in her wake, following. He took a simple whisky when she offered. “A drink sounds nice. I do enjoy a nice celebration.” he says, smiling fondly. “And oh you know, just some beautiful avian woman. You’d like her I think. She has a beautiful voice.” he says, as though she didn’t know who he was talking about. “That sounds good. So, when we are working, what should I call you? Mistress? Ma’am.” he teases, trying to hide his smile. “Tomorrow then for the guard dog. If he’s a guard dog, what am I?” he asks. “And where am I going to sleep? When I’m not watching you of course.” he amends, wondering if she’d find it off putting if he watched her sleep.
Brennia winces at the words he offers to use for her and lets out another soft chuckle, “when you are in public, probably Senator Smyth, but when we are in private… Whatever you want to call me?” Then he’s asking about sleeping arrangements and she finds no way around the fact, but jokes first, “the guard bat, of course, that sleeps hanging above my bet.” Her grin widens in her joke with another little chuckle as she points out the banisters to her ceiling. She makes herself comfortable on one of the loveseats and motions for him to sit wherever he pleases, “he is hired to protect the castle and my students, not so much me. And he’s become a quick friend who is recommended by a close friend of mine, so I trust him.” Crossing one leg over the other she glances around, “these little couches are too small for you, huh?” A glance to the floor, “that won’t work either… hmm.” Her eyes travel to her double king size bed, “I guess there is no other way.” She was grinning once more and looking at him from the corner of her eye, but a shrug follows, “I mean, we can get a cot or pull away bet set up in here if we must.” She raises her wine glass up to her plump lips slowly to get a sip.
Daermon had not suspected the conversation would take the route it had. Suddenly it was as if old Brennia was before him again, not the one he’d come to know since coming back. He sat beside her on the loveseat, relaxing, turning to face her, his glass in hand and resting on his leg. “I’m sure I could, but then all the blood would pool in my head and be very gross to look at.” he says to sleeping hanging above her bed. “Senator Smyth would work after you have become senator.” he agrees, grinning as he sips his drink. “Miss Smyth likely before then, in public.” he amends. “I’ll stick to whatever I want in private, as always.” he tells her. At the suggestion of her bed, he gasps, putting his hand to his chest. “Miss Smyth, what kind of man do you take me for? I mean, you’re my employer.” he was clearly teasing. “I mean, I would need...at least one more drink before I would agree to something like that.” his eyes were full of mischief as he finishes his whisky. “The couches are too small though for me.” he admits. “And I do need to be close, in case someone sneaks in and tries to hurt you while you’re asleep…”
Brennia was definitely smiling a bit easier and possibly her foot grazed his shin in their close proximity. “Here, let me practice. I did not have sexual relations with that vampire,” saying the words slowly and determined, but she cracks a smile once more and even a little raspy giggle in their joking. “It really is the only sensible option, I’m sorry your employer is so demanding of you. You should request a raise,” a quirk of her brow at the poor choice of words while sipping her wine nonchalantly like that totally wasn’t an innuendo! Shup! She takes a deep breath and lets her head fall back on the cushions of the couch looking at the ceiling to her room in the dim candlelight. “It’s been a tough week and a long passed few days,” she says exhaustively letting her wine glass rest on her leg now. Her free hand hesitantly inched a bit closer to his cold one, looking for a little comfort, a little reassurance that this is the right thing to be doing… Running for Senator that is.
Daermon chuckled softly. “Really? Very convincing, but that’s not how I remember it. I remember it exactly the opposite. Lots of relations. Here, and there, and over there, and some more over there, and on the balcony and…” he says fading off with a laugh of his own. “And aye, she can be very demanding...but I like that in a woman. One who knows what she wants and will tell you. I like a little of both, submission, and dominance.” he says, his hand slowly twining with hers. It was such a simple and sweet gesture, his cool flesh against her hot. “Perhaps I do need a raise.” he teasing, putting that same emphasis on the word, turning it into something dirty. He inched a bit closer, his leg against hers now, trying to comfort with presence as well as hand. “I’ll have your back. For whatever comes.” he says softly.
Brennia eases herself to nestle next to him and rests her head on his shoulder while sipping down the rest of her wine. “About that snack…” her head lifts up and looks into his eyes while breaking open their bond like a volcano. Memories of their many nights flashing through her mind and the countless times he was hungry for her in more ways than one. Then he’d feel that strong desire, the longing, the needing and wanting before he heard a whisper in their bond, ‘follow.’ Standing up and looking down at him before her hand caressed his cheek where his scar is before leaving him to saunter to her washroom.
Daermon had hoped, but not expected the warm reception. He would have simply been her bodyguard, if that was what she asked, but once again, she was blurring back to their old times and he was intoxicated with it. His head nuzzled hers on his shoulder, then she was looking into his eyes and the flood of memories, longing, needing and wanting filled him. It was a mutual exchange as she’d feel his in return. Hunger even now for more than her blood, desire, longing, loneliness, need, all those things that one associated with one they loved, yet hadn’t been near in some time. Then she was rising, commanding, and he was following that lingering hand, setting his glass on a table as he passed, curious of what she had in mind. It did also let him watch her walk away, and he had always hated seeing her go, but loved watching her walk away.