RP:The Malicious Mr. and Mrs. Smith

Summary: It's the day after their reunion and Tiber bickers with the witch because she arrives an hour late, making quips about make-up, when they should have been repairing their relationship. Hoping to lighten the mood, as well as cross another activity off of Belgemine's bucket list, Lanara suggests that they crash a beach wedding. Attending under the aliases of Mr. and Mrs. Smith, the couple 'work' the affair by stealing from random targets, and make away with some lovely loot. The event comes to an abrupt close when the city guards arrive to break up a fight between Tiber and a man that had dared to inappropriately touch his witch. Tibara ends the evening by sharing a bottle of wine, some steamy kisses, and lighthearted conversation.

Part of the Lunar Tides and Silver Linings Arc

Lanara had been in a rather melancholy mood since reuniting with Tiberius, as they both wanted to be together, but things were extremely complicated. How could she have agreed to meet him at noon?! The more attached they became, the harder things would be in the end, and the last thing she wanted to do was inflict more pain on the poor lycan. And what were they supposed to do when she showed up at his apartment?! Lanara groans as she gets ready for the day and a half hour later she is dressed in a long sleeved cocktail dress, which ends a few inches above her knees, and hugs her slender figure. At least the dress managed to cling to her frame, unlike all the other clothing she owned. Lana’s extreme loss of weight had her at about a hundred pounds, and her curves weren’t as pronounced, causing the elf distress. She was never vain, but her looks were the one thing she could always depend on, and it had been a very long time since she last felt beautiful. The hourglass pendant beams brightly against the fabric, tauntingly, as Lanara brushes her sleek locks and peers into the mirror. She looked as though she were ready to attend an important business meeting, host a huge party, or go on an expensive date, and she frowns at her reflection. Why was she trying so hard to impress Tiber? Sighing, she steps into a pair of gold pumps and tosses any necessities into a gold clutch, and she’s ready to walk the short distance to Tiber’s apartment. Naturally, the witch finds herself pausing along the way to survey each of the street vendor’s wares, and as she comes upon one stall in particular, she finds herself making several purchases of various types and shades of makeup. A few girls stand by, gushing about how their friend is getting married around three in the afternoon, and how she’s having an elaborate beach wedding nearby, with hundreds of guests. Lanara politely waits as they chat with the shop keep and haggle over prices, enjoying hearing how giddy they are about their friends upcoming nuptials. She’s nearly an hour late when she knocks on Tiber’s door, lacking confidence, and wondering if she made a mistake. A little breathless, she dabs her lips with a tinted gloss, and offers a shy smile once the lycan opens the door. “Hi! I’m sorry I’m late… But, I was out buying us some makeup. You used all my foundation, so I bought us each our own jar, but if I catch you wearing my lipstick you are in serious trouble.”

The silence was loud again in the loft. Although a wash of relief was found when seeing Lanara Banks alive, he had time to embrace the conversation the day prior. She did not want him, or maybe she did and did not want to hurt him. Either way, he did not really know what to grasp onto, but all he knew is that he did not want her to push him away again. Tiberius’ watch ticks as he sits on the couch, but this time in casual attire. A white t-shirt and tan-colored pants. Fingers are entwined in his opposite hand while his hands press again his mouth in thought. The man was still with a twinkle of stress in his amber gaze. The time was past noon. Lanara Banks was not coming. Instead of over-reacting, he decides to throw on a flannel and boots. The man grabs his apartment keys, for his mind could not bear the four walls. Then, as he reaches the handle, there is a knock. There is no instant pull, for a part of him did not want to seem eager, and well, he was mad. Did he really want to open the door if that was her? With a roll of his eyes, he pulls the door open, and honey eyes fall on her. A black cocktail dress and gold heels? Eyes glaze over her frail figure, but the dress still suited her. Although, suspicion arises, and for a moment, it makes him insecure. ‘I’m sorry I’m late…’ and then she is babbling about makeup now. His face is stone as he looks down at her and leans against the door frame. “And the worst stand-up comedian goes to Lanara Banks, everyone,” his voice is monotone. “I’m glad you decided to take this so seriously,” and with a roll of his body, he is walking back into his apartment while leaving the door open for her. He walks to the coffee table to drop his keys off. Tiberius is one salty man right about now.

The witch falls silent upon seeing the annoyance wafting off of Tiberius’ form, and she sighs heavily as she steps over the threshold and into his apartment. “Comedian? Excuse me! Wasn’t it –you- that used nearly all of my makeup? I had to buy more, and I was kind enough to buy you another jar of foundation that you seem to keen on using.” Lana pauses; growing angry at the lycan as deposits his keys on the coffee table and says that she’s not taking their complicated relationship ‘seriously’ enough. Wasn’t that the point? She had to keep him at arm’s length to dull the pain once she died. Of course she still had to tell him about the tip regarding his past, but there hadn’t been a good time to bring it up, yet. She couldn’t sleep at his apartment, because she was afraid he’d learn that her health is failing. Plus! He wanted her to move out and get her own place, before she even left for Kelvar! The witch frowns and takes a seat on the edge of the sofa, her own thoughts contradicting each other and driving her to the point of exhaustion. She loved Tiber, she wanted him at her side until she took her last breath, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him that she’s dying and was terrified those words would send him over the edge. Simply visiting Kelvar had him turning into a raging alcoholic! Telling him that she loved him in a letter seemed to make him upset, too, and he hadn’t said those three words back, or even hinted that he felt the same. Perhaps it was the wolf in him, all about having to play the role of an alpha, and he saw Lanara as an object and not an equal partner. Or maybe, deep down, the hurt boy was afraid that the man would be rejected, and he secretly loved the witch. Either way, Lanara Banks is getting sick of the constant back and forth of her thoughts and Tiber’s mood swings, so she clears her throat until his honey gaze falls on her form, “I’m sorry I’m late… And, it looks like you were headed out and that you’ve made other plans already… So, if you prefer, I can just leave? Maybe we can meet up sometime next week?” Standing, Lana regrets spending so much coin on her outfit, or that she had butterflies over the thought of seeing Tiber. “I’m so stupid for even trying… I even had an exciting day planned for the two of us!” In truth, she hadn’t thought beyond showing up, but after hearing the girls at the makeup counter talk about the wedding, she thought it would be fun for them to crash the event. Lana makes her way to the door, but she pauses at Tiber’s side, to gently grasp his hand and hotly glare into his eyes, “Here’s your beauty cream, make sure to use a damp beauty blender sponge when applying. Otherwise you will use too much product and it won’t give you an even layer. I would hate to see that brooding face looking like a goopy cinnamon bun.” It’s the closest she’s been to the male since she arrived, aside from the little hug they shared the evening prior. A hint of her perfume would permeate through the air, and her dark chocolate eyes are laced with anger, as she slowly snatches her hand back and turns to leave.

Tiberius smirks, but not in the happy sense. “I told you black-eye,” he circled an index finger around his eye for effect. “And I’m not that wreck of a disaster anymore.” Literally that wreck ended three weeks ago, so really Tiber should just shut his trap. “I was leaving because you were late. I was going on a walk to clear my head instead of turning to a bar brawl. I’m not over you, Lanara. That is completely clear—at least to me, but as for turning into some intoxicated loser, I’m over that. Khitti made me realize that you loved me, and I should appreciate that, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to fight this.” The man nears her, but not close. “Why would I have made plans an –hour- after we were supposed to meet? Lanara, I planned the whole freaking day for you. To talk. To figure it out.” And then, she talks about her ‘stupidity’. An exciting day? Were they back together? The woman was making his head spin, and then her gentle grasp reaches for his wrist before placing the cream in his hand. That glare of intensity in his amber eyes. The witch was mad, but all he could really do was roll his eyes and ignore her last comment. Really, a ‘goopy cinnamon bun’? The man wanted to laugh, but he does keep that brooding annoyed stare. He cannot let that guard down. Not until she is at the door, and he regrets his grumpy face because, once again, the girl with the piercing dark gaze is leaving him. “Lanara, don’t do this again. Just please.” His stance breaks into movement, and instead of grabbing her, he tries to step in her path, if he can. His gaze looks her up and down over that figure. Her tired figure, but also –that- figure. And the heels. Should he give in? No, Tiber. Stand ground. “What did you want to do? Because…” Oh Gods, Tiberius. He tries to step closer to her whichever direction she ended up, but he does not touch her. Eyes still gazing over her. Though, if their bodies were close enough, he could feel the urge to move in, but no he could not because complexity. She was pure complexity. “You look stunning as hell,” his words were slow and observant. In the back of his mind, however, all he could think about was why the hell was he bending for her, but he was. The witch had the lycan captive. At least in that dress.

Lanara nears the calm of her storm as Tiberius Lowell confesses that he’s not over her, and she is about to interrupt and reassure him that it’s not the case on her side, either. However, she’s unable to interject as the lycan goes on a rant about how he’s no longer sporting black eyes and that his drinking until he forgets the world days, are long forgotten. She fights the urge to roll her eyes as he mentions that it was her best friend, Khitti, that helped him to realize Lanara’s true feelings. How could Tiber not have figured it out by himself? Weren’t the googly eyes, constantly seeking his attention, cuddling up at night, craving his hugs and kiss, and literally taking over his apartment, enough indicators that she had some serious interest in the lycan?! Tiber moves to block her exit, and he’s standing close enough to touch, causing Lana’s heart to skip several beats. Did he feel the electrical current running through their bodies and mingling in the few inches between their forms? Couldn’t he tell that she was head over heels in love with him, but that her head and her heart are at odds? Lanara swallows hard she Tiber finally begins to cave and ask about the plans she had made for them, only for his gaze to drop to her figure, where he makes no attempt to mask that he’s checking out her goodies in the form fitting dress. She enjoyed watching his eyes marvel over the flash of cleavage, moving downwards to the fabric that hugged her hips, and finally to the hem that danced teasingly upon her thighs. Lana hadn’t felt desirable in quite some time, so when his lustful gaze returns to her face, she stammers out a meek “Thank you…” The clock ticks, and the witch feels as though she needs to say something to set things right, to let Tiber know that his feelings were reciprocated. She loved this man, and she ached to feel his touch, his kiss, and to just let him comfort each of her worries until her problems dissolved. When did her breathing grow shallow? Why was her face hotter than the sun in July? Unable to hold back, Lana closes the distance between them and places both of her palms on Tiber’s chest, as she tilts her head to peer into his sunset eyes. “Hey… I’m not over you, either. I don’t think I will ever get over you, Tiber.” There are soul mates after all, if what Sharna said was true! “My heart wants to be with you, my head tells me that I should stay away, and my soul is spinning in circles. There are a lot of things that happened back in Kelvar, and that’s why I’m scared, and why –this- is all so complicated. Maybe we can compromise…? How about every time that we spend time together… I tell you a little more about what transpired back home? Maybe if I say it in pieces, it won’t hurt so badly, because even –I- cannot accept all that happened.” Lana pauses as her hands slide up to cup each side of his face in a gentle embrace, “I need you to help me, Tiber. I’m so broken, so lost, and so unbelievably in love with you, but I cannot make this decision by myself.” The witch begins to tremble as her eyes grow glassy, but she refuses to let any tears fall, because she applied her makeup only moments before arriving. “Do you want to live in the present? Enjoy our time together, be a couple, grow closer, and know that it may have to end suddenly one day, perhaps in a few months? I can’t explain –why- just yet, I’m hoping to fix things before anything bad happens… But I do have to warn you, because this all could end in terrible heartache for us both.” She’s the queen of ‘what ifs’ lately, but her tone is so serious and her expression so fearful, that she hopes Tiber is taking this to heart and that he will give her an honest answer. “Or… Do you want to part right here and now, avoid that pain that likely will come later, and open your heart to another woman, in time? You don’t have to answer right now… You can tell me at the end of today, after the wedding that we are going to crash on the beach. Just please… Make this decision for us both? Do I follow my head or my heart? Do we embrace love or loneliness?” Lana gazes into Tiber’s honey eyes as she lowers her palms from his cheeks and slides them over his chest and down his torso, only to regrettably return them to her sides. It’s dangerous being this close to the handsome lycan, because if they kissed, they would light a flame that would be impossible to deny. Yet, that’s all the witch wants to do, as she feels her pulse quickening and her teeth nip her lower lip. She wanted Tiberius in every way imaginable.

(1/2) Tiber was a thick-skulled man. One that did not understand the tenderness that Lanara provided in the past, and it took her walking out the door without even a face-to-face goodbye to realize what he truly had. The electricity that is between them is evident to the lycan, and the love that the witch expressed was one he truly believed. His reflection, however, had been a mystery to her, and for the comfort of the lycan, he wanted to keep it this way. Perhaps only because he was too anxious to admit what he was truly thinking out loud. Not now. Not after she left. Not now since the woman was back and forth on whether to stay beside him. Tiberius Lowell had not been confident enough when it came to expressing his internal, emotional thought process. It was a skill he lacked. Amber eyes dance about her frame, and her face, and he smiles that crooked boyish smile when her gentle ‘thank you’ is given. Her cheekbones, eyes, lips… The thought to kiss them again… Knock it off, Tiberius. The woman was now touching him, and there was a tenseness beneath her touch in anticipation. Almost forgetting the feeling of what her touch was like. ‘I’m not over you, either…’ his eyes search her own as if there was a ‘but’ she was going to use along with the phrase. A warm hand sneaks very gently, angled at the small of her back near her hip. The woman is talking. A lot. A lot about Kelvar. How her world is broken, and that she needs to feed him pieces one at a time. He notices the pain and fear in her gaze as she stares at him as if something wrong is going to happen. She was home. Was she afraid that whatever happened in Kelvar would come back to haunt her? The man would keep her safe if that was what she needed. The lycan would not let another soul touch her again if it kept her from thinking of the worst. Her pessimism was beginning to grow under his skin which gave him the urge to smoke, but he figured that that would only fuel a new on-coming addiction that Lanara had with cigarettes.

(2/2) The long silence is given, and once she is done asking him to make a decision, he looks over her head with a very small sigh. “You want to know what I want?” Might as well start being honest in this “relationship”, if it was even that. Really it was not. They were broken up, right? “You’re scared… all these ‘what-ifs’. All the pain that I won’t necessarily understand,” or maybe he would, only to different degrees. “I don’t want you to dread. I want you to take your time telling me pieces, but I also don’t want you to worry about the cliché ‘hurting’ me either. Lanara, I’ve been through a lot. Seen a lot. I want to go at your pace,” and the man does not budge from that same position. Standing in front of her. Speaking his truth. “I want you to live in the now. Learn how to just ‘be’ without fear. And… if it makes it any easier, you can just ‘be’ with me. Take day by day instead of looking into a future that is of hypothetical thought,” he exhales again in a pause. “Thing is, Lana, I’m not going anywhere. Not after Kelvar. I’m not making that mistake again. You can put a label on it, be terrified of it, or you can just live. And I’ll be right behind you every step of the way. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not again. Don’t worry about me, Lanara. Leaving me. Hurting me.” The man wants to reach out, but the fear of making her flinch keeps his hands away. Great, he was back to not touching her again even though he yearned to. “So I need you to help me. I need you to take a breath, and I want you to drag me to crash a damn wedding today. Just for today. And if tomorrow comes, then tomorrow we will take that day, and so on and so forth.” Beat. “And obviously you need to throw something together for me in my closet because… I don’t know what you want me to wear to this gig.”

(1/2) Lanara listens to every word that Tiberius speaks, as it’s the first time he’s every truly poured his heart out to her, and accepted her with all of her flaws. Some of which, he didn’t even knew she possessed. He was content to have today and tomorrow… And he would be content with endless tomorrows, if she were to somehow find a miracle. The lycan swears he won’t hold it against her if she leaves him one day, that he can handle the hurt, but the what if’s are clearly driving them both to the point of insanity. Lanara forces herself not to cry, though a few rogue tears manage to ruin her attempts, as she replies, “Okay… Thank you for understanding, even though it’s all very complicated and I can’t explain much, just yet. I will promise to live for today, then live for tomorrow, and just take everything a day at a time.” She pauses as she feels his hand rest on the small of her back, near her hip, but she doesn’t flinch or pull away as she had in the past. “You know how I feel about you, about us, and I very much would like a label again… You know, it’s strange… I’ve had many titles over the years, some which are insulting, others comical, and most which are sweet or common… But, none of them ever clicked so well in my mind or my heart… Until you called me ‘yours’ because it was the toughest title I have ever been given. I know that you have had a hard past, and that you are so cautious around me at times, but you trust me with that very special label. I was –your- girlfriend.” At this admission, more tears spill onto her cheeks, “So… What I’m saying in a very long and twisted way, I promise I have a point here, I know I tend to ramble… Um… So, since you trusted me with your past, I will just ‘be’ with you, and only with you, for the rest of my tomorrows.” Lanara expects that this would be the part where they kiss, but Tiber seems a little hesitant to touch her, likely because the last time she flinched and freaked out in public. “I’m sorry I flinched the other day… It’s just that, um, the one who tortured me? Well… He was also the one that would tend to my wounds, so that he could hurt me again another day, in other ways. So… It got to a point where I couldn’t tell kindness from pain, a whip from a bandage, a friend from a foe… I’ll work on it, okay? I know you would never harm me. Maybe, just don’t grab me when you’re angry? But… Like… Right now? It would be cool… If you, uh, wanted to kiss me?”

(2/2) After the kiss does or doesn’t take place, the witch would smirk over her shoulder and saunter into Tiber’s bedroom, immediately disappearing in his closet. “Alright. It’s a beach wedding, during the day, so you don’t have to wear a tie but you do have to wear a sports jacket… Also! Before we leave… I’m thinking we need to come up with aliases and a story? How about… We are newlyweds? Mr. and Mrs. Smith?” It’s the most animated that Tiber has seen his witch, and the longest she’s gone without dissolving in tears. She walks back into the living room and hands the lycan a pair of gray slacks, a lavender dress shirt, a gray sports jacket and a pair of black loafers, “Okay, why don’t you go and get dressed? I will go fix my makeup… If you want I can help you with your makeup when you’re ready.” Lana cannot help the sassy smirk that graces her painted lips, “I’m really excited to crash this wedding! We get to role play today! And we totally should snag some liquor for tonight.” Clearly, the duo would be spending the rest of the day and the evening together. Lanara busies herself in the kitchen, making sure that the glamoured kitty has fresh food and water, while she waits for her date to finish getting ready.

(1/2) Tears slip from the woman, and there is concern and sincerity in his honey stare. She speaks of how her being his girlfriend was a title to live up to. Why? Why was it so difficult? Well, he knew why, but did she feel secure enough to live up to it? “Thing is, you just need to be you. You never had to live up to the ‘title’ of mine, Lana. You were just you who happened to fall into me. You were just beautiful the way you were. Still, even,” it is strange to talk so openly. Poetically. Maybe Augustus was shining through his skin. Was this what it was like to wear a heart on the sleeve? Because he might have personally hated it, but cherished it for the moment of clarity. When she makes it clear why she flinched the other day, he ran a hand through his hair at her explanation. It made him uneasy. “I, uh, won’t touch you when I’m heated then. I just wanted you to talk to me. I’m sorry, Lana. Truly. I’ll work on it, too…” There was an awkwardness, and she wanted him to kiss her. To kiss her after she admitted someone whipped her, bruised her and left her scarred, was one big turn off. One that would prickle up the lycan’s neck. Rage was trying to seep in nerves. It was almost as if he was timid to kiss her now from the pressure of it all. “I want to kiss you. You have –no- idea how bad I want to kiss you, but… it needs to be right.” Always with the rights with Tiberius. One would think he was sleazy, but really, he just did not want to screw this one up. “And I don’t want to feel like I want to murder someone. I’m not avoiding it, but I want you to feel safe. Feel reassured. And I know you know, but I want to make it clear I would –never- hurt you the way that they did.” The man feels bad, but there is lightness in his eyes. She smirks anyway and moves forth and when she turns her back, he had a flat raged stare. It quickly diminishes once she starts talking about the wedding.

(2/2) “Whatever you say,” he then sits on his bed and lays back with arms behind his head. There was a moment of bliss. A moment where it felt like before she left. Forcing him to go to events with her and her chipper banter. “Mr. and Mrs. Smith,” he then rises up with elbows leaning on the mattress, “I think that’s perfect. Simple, and we might be able to slip out a few party favors,” he rubs his fingers together to suggest ‘coin’. As the clothes are laid out, he automatically shrugs his flannel off and then gives her a hard glare about doing his make-up. “Ha, ha. What a comedian. Seriously. You do stand-up?” The sarcasm is strong and his tone has not an ounce of playfulness in his voice. He is truly not amused. That sassy smirk makes him leap off the bed before lifting his shirt over his head. “I wonder what liquor would do,” if she was playing games, the man would play them too before snatching that lavender shirt. Eyes would still watch her carefully. Curiously. Playfully. He then shrugs the shirt on and buttons it slowly. He then watches her leave with that sly smile before finishing his dress, and in a quick, he is ready in his casual beach wedding attire. The man cleans up nice. “So, if we are not friends of the bride and groom,” he grabs his apartment key before heading to the door, “you need to be a third cousin. I married you, and… we know a William in the family because that’s such a common name, right?”

Lanara quickly recovered from the fact that Tiber didn’t kiss her, because the moment would have been right if they were in a fairytale, but there is so much gray matter between the two, that it was best to take things slow. Their playful banter continues as she refreshes her makeup and combs her hair, doing her best not to crack up at his angered expression and commentary on Lanara’s comedic attempts. “Pfft. Be careful, Tiber… I’d hate for you to wake up with your eyebrows shaved off, or perhaps I may slip a few drops of that glamour potion you gave to Salem into your drink…” She’s teasing, of course, she would never intentionally hurt the lycan, and if she were to remove his brows, it would reflect poorly on her, too! The male continues to dress himself, and she finds her eyes drawn to his physique, ever so slowly she glances as his fingers as he secures each button. Tiber is looking her way too, especially as she exits the room with a sway in her step, and she peers over her shoulder and gives him a saucy smirk, “What liquor would do, for what, Mr. Smith? Are you insinuating that I’m a cheap date? Or that I have rich tastes? Or perhaps… Your plan is to get me so intoxicated that I’m forced to come back here tonight after the wedding?” Lanara laughs, her first hearty laugh in a long time, “I’m a bit of a lush with hard liquor, so you best be careful.” A few moments later he joins her in the kitchen and she turns around to assess his appearance, she’s grinning from ear to ear as he joins in on their little charade, deliberately getting it wrong just to get under his skin, “Alright. So you married your third cousin William and then left him and married me, a mere commoner? Got it.” She’s giggling now, as she fixes the lapel on Tiber’s jacket, “You look very handsome, so much so, that I’m tempted to suggest we stay in, rather than let all those single girls at the wedding ogle you.” If they dared, they’d get a heel to the head! “But… I’m looking forward to playing your wife for an afternoon, so let’s go.” Lana walks at his side once they exit the apartment, her heels clicking against the pavement as she points in the direction they need to go, “Which side do we sit on? Is William related to the bride or the groom?” There is no way Lowell is going to convince her to skip the ceremony, that was the best part! Plus, it would give them some time to scope out who was more likely to drop a large amount of coin on the gift table. As they near the location, she nonchalantly takes Tiber’s hand in hers and gives it a gentle squeeze, “This is going to be so much fun!”

The man is left with a furrowed brow at her comment about shaving his eyebrows. Then again, he is shrugging to himself. Looks like he would not care if he did not have eyebrows. Maybe it was just the carelessness of his own appearance. Then again, he always dressed well and clean. Maybe it was because he had been through a lot worse than just shaved eyebrows. Once he is in the living room with her with his key flipping through his fingers idly, he smiles and begins to slowly near her again dressed in full suit. “Liquor gives edge, Mrs. Smith. Liquid courage, and I wouldn’t mind if you came over after the wedding,” he would slowly reach for her hand and press it to his pale, warm lips. “But I’m sorry, you can’t take advantage of your husband, Mrs. Smith. I won’t have it. So yes, I best be careful,” he grins wickedly in his teasing ways, and then that grin fades abruptly and he lets go of her hand. “You’re pushing it, Mrs. Smith. Don’t make me spread dirty rumors about you to all the family.” There is challenge in his gaze, but a small smile that sets to show that he, too, is joking—kind of. The witch better not push too hard with those jokes. Perhaps it was a control freak thing. The lycan screeching at him underneath the surface. Tiber's face relaxes as she begins to fix his jacket. “As much as I wouldn’t mind a whole night to hide you away, you had me piqued with this wedding thing. Not my seen, but I’d like to score a few prizes, and embarrass a few morons.” And then she says that she looks forward to being his pretend wife. His amber gaze searches hers for a moment, for the lycan did not know how to hold that compliment just yet. Tiber's eyes were gentle on the outside, but internally he was thinking of marriage in a poor manner. To be married to the witch. Marriage? Marriage. It was just a certificate to him. A formality, but he does not say anything about it and follows along with her out the door. As they walk, he looks down at her heels, “Beach wedding and you chose heels? Not that I’m complaining, but doesn’t sand sink?” He then crinkles his nose. “And you’re going to make me sit through the actual ‘I dos’? Really?” To him, the party and drinking was the best part—of course. Her hand slips through his and he squeezes her hand back and keeps his fingers laced around her own. It felt… as if there was still a piece of him missing, however, even if she was holding his hand. It did not seem real to him that she was still physically there again. “Fine, I’ll play along. Groom’s side. Men are idiots. They don’t know right from left sometimes—especially with weddings. They’re just overwhelmed and don’t want the bride to go ballistic because, Sven forbid, most of the women are bridezillas.” At least he agreed that sometimes men are idiots.

The witch honestly was surprised that she made the little quip about being Tiber’s pretend wife for the day, because with her failing health, even if he were to miraculously pop the question, she wouldn’t live long enough to walk down the aisle. Still, he said to ‘live’ in the moment, and so she giggles in response to his banter, and scoffs when he mentions her heels sinking into the sand, “Are you saying you’re not strong enough to hold me upright? I’m not –that- fat, Mr. Smith!” With a grin, the witch leans conspiratorially closer, “The sand was likely enchanted to remain hardened like flooring, or they threw down some heavy carpeting. There’s no way they would allow the bride, wedding party, and the guests, to damage their clothing or make fools out of themselves.” Lanara is correct in her assumption, because as the set up comes into view, they see that the sand had been magically solidified beneath all the sectioned off areas of the beach that were to be used. To the right, a massive tent has been erected, complete with a live band, dance floor, buffet style servings, a gift table, and of course, dozens of tables where the guests can sit to dine. The wedding party is expected to begin the procession in a few moments, so Lanara leads Tiber towards the groom’s side, on the right. Rows of white chairs woven with pink and white roses add to the romantic effect, as well as the beige pathway the bride is expected to talk down, lined with white candles to guide her path. A small stage is to the front, where the officiate will lead the couple in the vows, and a few bards are playing soothing music to set the scene. Lana is still holding Tiber’s hand as she gently elbows him in the ribs, “Mr. Smith… When was the last wedding you attended?” She’s making small talk, in case anyone nearby is listening, as the place is packed with attendees. After Tiber responds, she carries on, “I haven’t been to that many weddings, I was a guest at Pilar and Yozenra’s, a date at a wedding with Largakh, and I officiated the wedding of Khitti and Brand.” She also planned two weddings, but both engagements were called off, fortunately, or she wouldn’t be attending this one with the lycan. “Ooh! Isn’t that Auntie Rose up front? Look at those diamonds around her neck! Aren’t they just lovely, darling? It looks as though she’s attending all alone… I heard Uncle Harry’s still recovering from the heart attack.” Likely from seeing the cost of the diamond necklace! Hoping Tiber is marking the old lady with beehive hair as a target; the witch glances at a few others and begins speaking again, “Darling! You don’t believe who is here!” A woman seated in the front of the couple turns around in her seat and glares at Lanara, “Would you please lower your voice?! The wedding is starting and you won’t shut up!” The witch leans forward, giving Tiber’s hand an annoyed squeeze, imaginging it to be the rude woman’s neck, “Speak to me like that again and everyone will be attending a funeral, not a wedding!” Furious, both women fall silent and turn to face the center aisle as the bards begin to play a march. Pressing her back against Tiber’s chest as they are now standing to welcome the procession, Lana looks up and whispers for his ears only, “She’s on my ‘list’ now, though rather than take any valuables, I may just settle for some organs. I could brew some powerful potions if I had a kidney or liver…” She grins, letting her date know that she’s half-joking.

The lycan frowns at her comment about her weight, “Far from it,” and although she was teasing, there was a moment where the atmosphere grew stiff. Although the woman had been beautiful to the eye, there was the knowing of truth behind the unhealthy amount of weight she lost, but as she leans in, he finds himself smirking again lightly. “Enchanted sand—ooh, mystical,” the Catalian taunts. “I guess that is… nice of them to make magic sand?” And then, they are stepping on the sand that is like flooring. “You’d think they would be lax if they were having a beach wedding. Like, the dude and the chick wearing no shoes or something. Or like sandals? Is that a thing for brides and grooms?” A groom wearing sandals was an interesting image to say the least. Tiber takes suit as Lanara leads him to the rows of seat. Hand still in her own as he is dragged about the isles. “You know what would have ticked them off? You wearing white,” he liked the idea of that. Only to make the atmosphere tenser. As they settle down, the man shrugs. “I’ve been to a few ritzy gigs,” the lycan looks over his shoulder at the other members of the groom’s side of the ceremony. “Basically just the partner of the boss. Don’t mistake me for a best man, though. Just a face to fill the rows to make it seem like they knew –so- many close friends and family.” It is obvious the man thinks that weddings are… pathetic. The blonde then listens to her ramble about the weddings she has attended and officiated. “Don’t forget about our wedding,” he lazily rolls his head to look at her with that stupid little grin before rolling it back to look where the witch is now gesturing. “Auntie Rose looks like she can use a better comb,” the man mutters because that hair was wild. “You think she has a pet bird?” An arm then sweeps to wrap around Lanara’s shoulder before fingers trace the side of her neck gently and teasingly, “I think you’d look good in those, myself.” Do not think about it Tiberius Lowell. Stealing diamonds from mock Auntie Rose?! “We can always pay her good company later. We will see her at the reception.” Eyes then look over his shoulder and he perks up a grin as the annoyed woman speaks her mind. Automatically, Tiberius moves that hand that is across the Kelvarian's shoulders and places it on one. “Don’t mind my wife—therapy with this one." He then mouths and points,"Touchy.” It is a blatant sarcastic joke, and this would be a good time for Lanara to sock him in the arm for being a turd. As the bards play, he stands and wraps his arms around the woman in front of him. Her whisper earns her a smirk, and then he whispers back, “Easy, Mrs. Smith. They’ll get their’s. Just be patient and enjoy the ceremony. I'm making a mental list."

Lanara isn’t sure if she should bothering commenting on Tiber’s apparent annoyance with weddings, because even though she loves the man and could imagine a future at his side, it’s not like she’s going to be alive much longer. Plus, if she imagined him marrying another woman, it would surely put her in a sour mood, and this was supposed to be a joyous occasion! The witch nearly has a panic attack when Tiber’s fingertips lazily strum against her flesh, so dangerously close to the clasp around her neck that she hardly registers when he mocks her sanity to the woman seated in front of them. She knows the male expects a witty retort, an elbow to the ribs, or perhaps some sort of feigned offense taken, but she can hardly muster a smile until Tiber quits trailing his pointer finger about her neck and instead drapes an arm around her shoulders. “Keep it up, Mr. Smith. I am paying attention, too… And you don’t want to be on my naughty list!” Lana grins and relaxes in the man’s embrace, her gaze taking in the beauty of the bride, the seemingly endless train of the overpriced dress, and the look of admiration on the grooms face at the woman who will be his wife in a matter of moments. The couple chose to forgo the basic exchange of vows, and so everyone had to listen to their love story and promises of a future, leaving half the audience in tears and the rest a combination of disgust or hopefulness. The officiate declares them Husband and Wife, and as the couple leans in for a kiss, Lanara turns to Tiber and studies his expression closely. The lycan wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but surely, he must feel –something- after witnessing devotion in its purest form. As everyone is applauding, throwing rice, and blowing bubbles, Lana scowls and glances upwards, “The seagulls can DIE if they eat uncooked rice… Idiots.” Taking Tiber’s hand, the witch leads her date over to the open bar where they order their drinks, before heading to a table. Thankfully, it’s not assigned seating, so they don’t have to switch name cards or change their alias, as they take a seat. Glancing at the six vacant chairs, Lana takes a sip of her white wine and murmurs, “If Beehive Betty happens to roam behind the partition to use a chamber pot, you better get to snagging those diamonds for me. Also. Did you get a look at the watch on the best man? It has at least six carats of diamonds and sapphires, I noticed when he handed over the rings, and blue would match lovely with your amber eyes.” Lana smirks before she devises a plan, “I could ask him to dance… Charm the heck out of the guy, wow him with my dance moves, and twirl back to you with a nice little gift. Sound good?” Just then, the wretched woman that told Lana to shush before the ceremony plops down at their table, along with two pimply faced teenage boys. The woman is loudly reading the menu to the boys, as though they are simpletons, “You can get filet mignon, chicken saltimbocca, or lemon crusted salmon… Charles, I don’t think you should get the salmon, you know that fish gives you diarrhea…” Charles looks mortified and nods, while his eager brother pokes Lanara on the shoulder and flashes her a bucktoothed grin, “What are you getting, Pretty Lady?” The witch fights not to bend the kid’s fingers back until he screams in agony, as she didn’t want his slimy palms on her dress, but mostly maintains her composure as she replies, “Liver.” Perhaps Tiberius would note the way that Lana’s glare shifts to the woman reading the menu, the venomous glint in those chocolate hues, and the way her smile turns to a sneer as the witch is corrected by her target, “Liver is not on the menu, so you will have to get either the steak, salmon, or chicken dish… I don’t believe we’ve exchanged names! I’m Wilma, and these are my handsome nephews, Frank and Jack.” Lana blinks in disbelief, remaining silent long enough that Tiber would have to announce their names, only to have to repeat the process as three more join the table and occupy the empty seats. As Tiber plays the part of the dutiful husband, the witch is left with the teen boys ogling her beauty, so she tries to be polite, “So… Frick and Frack… Do you both live with Aunt Wildebeest? Is this the first wedding you’ve attended?”

(1 of 2) Tiberius squints and simpers at the witch’s comment before watching the ceremony. The two exchange their vows and his face appears softened rather than his hard stoic stare, but maybe it was because he had the witch wrapped within him. The thought of her being back, but not completely back. It was a thought he would cherish, and a moment he would take. As the newlyweds kiss, the only expression Tiber holds is one that holds, yet again, another squint, but no smile. The squint was not filled with disgust, but thought. Amber eyes away from the current moment—looking as if they were in another realm. The way the witch was talking to him when she returned… would she leave again? The thought crossed his mind, but suddenly vanished when he noticed that chocolate eyes were staring at him intently. A blink, and those eyes were expressionless again as they stared at her blankly as if she was accusing him of something. “Hi,” and then the applause take over his senses. Why were people so loud over marriage? “Idiots is one term for it,” he searches the crowd before he lingers behind Lanara to the bar and then the reception table. The lycan courteously pulls out the chair for the witch to sit down before he does. He adjusts his jacket before scooting in to lean in to the witch’s whispers. The Catalian grins, “You, Mrs. Smith, have an edge,” the man takes a drink of his beer. “I’ll look out for her. As for you,” eyes look her up and down, “I’d like to see those dance moves come back to me.” It meant, they had a deal. Though, Sven knows what would happen if that best man got handsy.

(2 of 2) As the other company arrives, however, Tiberius’ smile turns into a frown before grinning yet again. The man had to put on a show, did he not? Then, there was the mention of diarrhea, and Lanara is getting snippy with a teenage boy with just very not great skin. The lycan clears his throat loudly because for the gods’ sake. “The wife only wishes,” the Catalian answers before leaning an elbow over the back of his chair. “Wilma, Frank, Jack. Pleasure,” the fake smile lingers, but it is charming enough. “I’m John, and this is Jane.” As the next three join the table, Tiberius easily falls into the role of getting to know each of the other guests. Another couple: Eamonn and Silas—the two men also with Silas’ niece Sarah who is around Frank and Jack’s teenage age. Coincidental, really. Overhearing Lanara’s lazy, harsh tongue, the man swoops an arm around the witch. “Honey, I see Auntie Rose. I think I might go say hi. You should really talk to Silas and Eamonn. Did you know Silas has a pet grooming business?” He leans in closer to whisper in her ear, "Play nice." The man then leans into kiss his mock-wife’s cheek before scooting away in almost a dash, grabbing his drink in the process, to go see Beehive Magee. Once the man wanders across the way towards the bar again, he slides into the view of the woman with a nest for hair. “Auntie Rose, right?” No Tiber, not right. The Beehive haired woman looks confused. “Oh, oh, Gods, I apologize. Where are my manners? From afar you really looked like Auntie Rose. She must’ve not made it today. Ugh, it must have been because Uncle Henry had a heart-attack,” in this moment, Tiberius looks distressed. Fingers set on his temple. “It’s been hard, you know? I was really hoping they would make it today.” The lady with the giant hair sort of looks awkward and gives Tiber a pat on the shoulder and says, “Sorry, hun. I’m Auntie Lou,” before she continues towards the bar to order a drink. The man then shifts his eyes left and right to make sure it is clear enough to—splash! The beer spills over the back of the woman’s dress, and in the midst, Tiberius stumbles as if he got pushed by another person. “Oh, I’m sorry. That waiter was rushing,” the man points at a waiter going nearby. “He must be stressed. So many people, err, I’m so sorry. Let me help you.” The man snaps his fingers, “Can we get some towels please?” A lot of people stare for a long time at first, but as they realize the bartender is finding towels, they slowly look back to their groups and mingle. Luckily, the bride and groom have not made their entrance yet to notice the wreckage, but Mrs. Smith would know that Mr. Smith had a very clumsy plan. Dear Sven.

(Post 1 of 2) Lanara could care less what the boys are blubbering about, and the one nearest to her has such terrible acne that she’s losing her appetite. Their overbearing aunt is unfolding the expensive cloth napkins and making bibs for the teens, and the witch is all too eager to throw her attention towards the male couple and their niece. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Silas, Edmond, and Sarah!” Close enough, she had only gotten one out of three names wrong, and the odds were at least in half of the tables favor. Silas and Eamonn excitedly tell a tale of how they are hoping to renew their vows in the coming months, and then the topic shifts to their mutual love of animals. “Really? A grooming business sounds lovely! You –must- share some funny stories with me, as I just adore animals! I have a san-“ The witch catches herself as she nearly mentions owning an animal sanctuary in Sage, so she quickly continues, “Excuse me… I meant to say that I have a sand colored mare, and she is just the sweetest thing!” Quick thinking Mrs. Smith, she thinks, as she flashes Tiberius a breathtaking smile. He seems to be as eager to cause some mischief as Lana, and she watches as he leaves their table, her own gaze glued to his back. Servings of whatever meat or fish was ordered by the guests are placed upon each plate, and everyone is encouraged to choose their sides from the buffet set up nearby. As steak is piled onto Tiber and Lana’s plates, it’s then that Silas switches the topic from animals to an inquiry about Mr. and Mrs. Smith’s love life! “Jane, you must tell me how you and John ended up together! I can see the look of love plain as day on my face, and I think it’s so touching that after all this time, you both are still so smitten with each other.” Lanara lifts her glass of wine, secretly wishing it were something far stronger, as she tries to come up with an answer. How long had Tiber said their aliases were married? What if her ‘facts’ differed from his? “Oh. Um. Well… Thank you for saying that, Silas. I suppose most of our relationship has been complicated, as we had a very rocky start, and there are times I question John’s love for me…” Would Jane have said such a thing about her darling husband? Seeing too many similarities between Tibara and the Smith’s, the witch backtracks, “I mean, of course, I know that my husband adores me, but after so much time together, it’s only natural that some of his feelings may have faded. We grow older, comfortable in the relationship, and those three words are said less and less. Plus, John never wanted to get married! He isn’t really the family type, but I am, and I suppose we learned to put the feelings of each other before our own.” Lana is babbling and growing a little nervous, her glass is now half empty, and Silas and Eamonn are exchanging a ‘look’ that clearly shows their pity for the witch. “I’ll be right back; the open bar is calling my name!” Swiftly, Lana rises from her seat and heads for the bar, somewhat annoyed that Tiber left her at that table with the rejects to her left, and the nosy neighbors to her right. Sarah was the only guest that didn’t manage to grate on her nerves! “How the heck am I supposed to discuss an imaginary relationship when I don’t even know where the heck the real one is headed?!” The second glass of wine, followed by a shot of tequila, manages to soothe the worry of the witch. Lana thinks back to Tiber’s curious and somewhat pensive expression during the ceremony and she wonders what thoughts were running through his head. Of course, she is interrupted as a waiter breezes past with an armful of towels, muttering apologizes as he weaves his way through the crowd. Lanara follows a little of the way and sees that Tiber and a beer drenched Auntie Rose are in close proximity, so she takes this as her cue to go charm the best man.

(Post 2 of 2) The woman didn’t have to venture too far to find the average looking, well dressed male, as he approaches the bar and places a drink order. At the moment, the bride and groom are sharing their very first dance as newlyweds, and everyone else is using this opportunity to mingle. “Don’t tell me you plan on drinking all by yourself, handsome.” A slow, seductive smile is offered, as Lanara extends a dainty hand, “I’m Jane, and I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting, yet.” The male, Bruce, places a tender kiss upon the offered hand and after a few moments of short talk he pulls Lanara to the side for a little privacy. “I couldn’t help but notice that you are here with a date, so I’m just wondering what a girl like you is doing, having a drink with me?” He’s smarter than he looks, as most men would size each other up and make a move, regardless if the woman was single or involved. Men loved the chase, they were eager to compete for a worthy prize, and although this particular man reeks of masculinity, it’s obvious he doesn’t want to be blamed for a brawl at his best friend’s wedding. “Oh, John? Puh-lease!” Rolling her eyes, Lana laughs and rests her hand on Bruce’s bicep, “We are currently married, but we are also in the process of getting a divorce… So, we both have agreed to throw ourselves back into the dating game.” Another dazzling smile is offered, as the slow song ends and a livelier tune takes its place, as several couples proceed to the designated dance area and proceed to move rhythmically. It’s akin to a salsa, and Lanara can shake it like the best of them, so she expectantly glances at Bruce, until he offers his arm. The male completely forgets about John Smith, or the fact that he’s slightly inebriated and making a fool out of himself by jumping around like a rabbit. His gaze is set on the woman that drifts in and out of his arms with every sensual move, her hips that sway to the seductive beat, and the gentle bumps against his chest and torso as she expertly maneuvers her body around their shared dance space. Feeling bold with liquid courage, Bruce snags Lana firmly by the waist as she does another one of her ‘accidental’ bump and grind moves, and holds her in place. The witch, in turn, attempts to spin in the opposite direction and violently stomps her heel as she steps on the male’s foot. Bruce refuses to lighten up on the forced dance pose, and it’s obvious the witch is about to have a panic attack as she’s forcefully pushed further into the embrace which resembles an awkward bear hug. “Hey… Lighten up, okay? I’m… I’m not comfortable with –any- of this… Let me go!” She had made sure that her touches were light, merely grazing Bruce’s suit, enough to keep his attention on her form and not on his wristwatch. Lanara didn’t think it would escalate into whatever perversions the man is cooking up in his drunken mind! The best man is literally turning into the –worst- man, as his one hand lowers to pinch Lana’s rear with such force, that the woman actually yelps. Dark eyes are full of fear as the witch tries not to tremble and think about her torture sessions in Kelvar, so she softly whispers a mantra against the brutes shoulder, “I am Jane Smith. I am Jane Smith. I am Jan Smith.” It was too painful to be Lanara Banks’ mindset, so she would cling to the newly adopted alias. Where the heck was Tiber?! He had an ass to kick!

It was too bad Tiberius was not there for the conversation behind. An ear would be listening in Lanara's words about their story. Love faded. Mr. Smith barely said the words. Tiberius never said the words. There was a squint over by the bar as John Smith is now grabbing the towels to help dab the beer off the woman. A slow ache began to creep in at the witch's words, but the man did not know what it meant. The thing was, he was not sure if he could actually say those words to her. If it would make their situation better. Lanara's situation better, for the woman was not herself, and the possibility of her walking out that door again, had him internally screaming. Cue the present as the man is now sucked back into reality from eavesdropping, “Auntie Lou, it’s, uh, in your hair,” well, Tiberius was not wrong. Dribbles of alcohol were on the back of her tied up head. “Do you think it’ll stain?” The older woman asks as she looks over and down to peer at her backside. Meanwhile, the lycan is placing a towel around the woman’s neck and patting it, all the while, fingers quickly fumble with the chain of the diamonds. To Auntie Lou, however, she would feel fingers patting little droplets from her neck and lower hair. “Don’t want a sticky neck,” and finally the man is wrapping the towel all the way around her neck to act as if some may have spilled on the woman’s chest as well. He was not wrong. The beer really flew. Once he pulls the towel back, the diamonds are slipped between the cloth without the woman knowing a single thing. For good measure, Tiberius hands her a few more towels. “I’d help you with, uh, the back, but I don’t want to intrude,” the woman nods in agreement. “I truly apologize, just know, your hair still looks,” Tiberius may have paused for a long moment as he stared at the nest on her head, “unique.” Bad word choice, but either way, the man is now off the hook, and a diamond necklace is slipping into the pocket of his slacks. The blonde then turns to head back to the table, when he realizes Lanara is gone. Amber eyes bounce through the crowd before they land on the dance floor. The way the witch is moving creates a tick of jealousy, but the man remembers he has to be patient. The lycan moves to the bar to throw back a shot of vodka, and then… the panics. Senses were thick on the lycan, and her voice was clear that she wanted the best dead man off of her. Even if she was not making a scene, Tiberius hears it all—sees it all. That repetitive word play off the witch’s tongue gives him the idea that she is not in her right mind. There was not even a beat, and Tiberius is pushing his hands off the bar counter, bringing that shot glass in hand. He strides through the crowd and his broad frame shoulders anyone that bothers to get in the way. In a belligerent motion, a calloused hand grips the shoulder of Bruce and yanks him back to face him, “She said to let go, asshole!” Without another moment to pass by, his other hand comes crashing across the “worst” man’s head with the shot glass. Bruce would stumble while clenching his head before realizing that the witch’s date was going to start the brawl. In return, Bruce comes charging back with a large sneer of anger on his face and a fist to punch Tiberius back across the face. Well, wedding crashing today meant a new meaning. Beer, shot glasses, and fists crashing against heads. And well, the thing was, the scrapper Tiberius would gladly tackle a guy and throw punches like the literal animal he was until someone could get the lycan to stop. Boy, did Tiberius have a temper. Oh and were those screams of the bride in the background? Yes, truly that was screams from the bride.

It’s a good thing that Lanara is occupied by trying to fend off the handsy drunkard, because if she were to witness Tiberius placing his hands on Auntie Lou, she would have blown a gasket. The witch has serious jealousy issues and she is prone to lashing out over the smallest matter, even if it was –her- idea for Tiber to stalk the old lady and snag the diamond necklace. Auntie Lou thinks that the helpful John Smith is a dear for helping fix her hair and attire, drying up the expensive ale with all those towels. The poor woman blinks as Tiber attempts to compliment her awkward hair-do, unsure if she should thank him for his words, or let it pass. Auntie Lou doesn’t have a moment to slip the dashing male a coin for his help, offer thanks, or even notice that her necklace is missing, as he is off to the next matter of business. The bards must have the song on repeat, because Bruce downright refuses to lessen his grip on the little woman in his arms, and Lana has tried everything from kneeing him in the groin, to stomping on his feet, to tugging fiercely on his tie in an effort to strangle the male. Finally, after what seems like a good half hour, her savior savagely tears the male from her form and Lana takes this moment to just breathe. “I am Jane Smith…” Feeling somewhat disoriented from all the excitement, she wonders if her vision is blurred or if that is Tiberius Lowell beating up the ‘worst’ man on the dance floor, with a shot glass?! Somewhat swooning that he rushed to her aide, the witch finds herself being pulled from her panic stricken state, and focusing solely on the Catalian. The area falls quiet for a moment as Bruce speaks, “Pfft. Whatever, Bro. You had your chance! Jane is coming home with me after I’m finished with you!” The two men square off and it’s when Bruce punches Tiber in the face, that Lana finds herself responding with anger, “Don’t touch him! He is mine!” It’s obvious that the lycan has the upper hand, and that Bruce may have knocked out a normal man with that uppercut, but the witch isn’t taking any chances. It doesn’t matter that she can’t wield any magic, or that her health is fading; the man she loved was harmed and it was her fault. Jumping onto Bruce’s back, she ferociously claws at the male’s face and pulls his hair to the point that his scalp is bleeding. “You. Shouldn’t. Touch. Things. That. Don’t. Belong. To. You.” Bruce tries to fend off Tiber with one fist, while his other hand helplessly tries to pry Lana’s legs from around his waist, as the partygoers scream in the background and the Cenril City Guards are called in for backup. Knowing their time at the wedding had come to an end; Lana locks eyes with Tiber, and gives him a knowing smile. She had scored the watch! Bruce manages to shake the witch from his frame and Lana lands on the solidified sand, a few feet away. She’s unhurt, but she points out Bruce to the guards and blames him for all the trouble, before she pushes herself to her feet and waits for Tiber to finish laying the smack down on the ‘worst’ man.

Tiberius is knocked back a step or two with Bruce’s punch. It hits him square in the mouth and leaves blood oozing on the side of his mouth and inside his mouth. The lycan spits some blood out of his mouth before watching the witch jump on Bruce’s back. There is a salty smirk at her attempt that is much appreciated. “What are you even talking about you loon? Don’t you understand that you’re a disgusting prick?” And then, Tiberius sends another blow into the man’s jaw while Lanara pulls the guy’s hair. Holy moly. “Look at that,” Tiberius takes a mild breath. “The little tigress wants to skin you. Seems like she’s headed home with me tonight.” Then, the Cenril Guards are called to join in, and as Lanara is flung back, that is when Tiberius goes in shoulder first to knock Bruce onto the ground. Bruce grasps onto Tiberius’ collar of his button-up to pry the lycan off of him, and somehow, the Catalian is gripping Bruce’s wrists in order to give him a couple more punches to Bruce’s now bloodied face. A man, another groomsman, comes behind Tiber and grabs the Catalian’s sport jacket to keep the lycan from actually killing someone. Arms are kept behind the blonde’s back now by the burly groomsman—Kahlel—in order to break up the fight and for Bruce to actually catch some wind. “Calm down, man. It’s done. You got’im, and I think it’s best if you just leave.” Tiberius then pulls his arms away before giving Kahlel a glare. “I get it, I get it,” the Catalian lifts hands, one knuckle now bruised and cut from the blows. The lycan then turns to find Lanara with heat in his eyes, and then he smiles a bloody-teeth smile that is full of fury towards the guards. “Just trying to protect the lady, fellas. He’s clearly intoxicated to make better decisions.” It was true—Tiberius was the exact opposite for once--except for maybe almost killing a man. One shot and a sip of beer was nothing to the lycan. “Jane, we need to go.” And still in character that Tiberius Lowell. Was that even going to be possible for the two to leave?

Lanara is giving doe eyes to the guards, rubbing her shins, and pointing at the ‘worst’ man, and of course they all buy the story of the ‘innocent’ little lady. Tiber backs up her statement and within seconds Bruce is forcefully removed from the comfort of Kahlel and arrested. Mission complete, Lana walks over to Tiber and smiles as she takes his hand, somehow finding herself even more smitten with the lycan who had offered protection. “Thank you, Mister Smith… Ready to leave?” Leaning in, she giggles, “Sooooooo… I’m a tigress, huh? I thought a she-wolf would be more your type.” Unable to resist the tease, she gives Tiber’s hand a gentle squeeze and leads him towards the exit. Kahlel gives Tiber a ‘look’ that clearly states this isn’t over, and perhaps when Bruce is done licking his wounds they will travel to Cenril for another shot at the big bad wolf. Lanara, the feisty scalper, will be waiting! Naturally, the couple swipes a bottle of expensive booze on the way out, and they keep their wits about them as they walk up the beach and head onto the main road. “Are you okay, Ty? You’re bleeding and all banged up… Is there anything I can do to help?” Worriedly, she stops walking and lifts a hand to brush against his cheek, assessing his wounds now that they are in a safer location. “I’m sorry… I know this was all –my- idea and I never intended for you to get hurt.” Guilt flashes in her gaze as she stares into his mesmerizing amber eyes, and she’s reminded that Jane Smith has left, and it’s just the wounded witch who hurt the lycan in her place. Ashamed, Lana looks away and clears her throat, “Oh! I have the watch…” She wiggles her clutch in her hand, unsure if they should just exchange the goods on the street or head back to Tiber’s place. Lanara knows that if they are to part ways, she will have to come up with a good excuse, because the Catalian would likely want to walk her home after a day of scrapping. The less he knew about where she lived, the better, because it meant fewer questions. Did he want to be healed? Continue their time together? Lana stands at the intersection at Tiber’s side, letting him decide where to take things, as she didn’t want to force him into anything. She may be the one with a past of being a professional dancer, yet whenever she was around the lycan she often followed his lead, and trusted him to guide their every move.

Tiber is relieved when the guards believe Lanara’s ‘innocent’ story. The guards knew little about who Mr. and Mrs. Smith were—game players. As the witch comes and slips her hand within his own, tense eyes move down to her. She giggles, but that stern stare is present, and his bruised hand lifts to hold her cheek and really stare at her. “Eh, she-wolf’s can be overrated. I’d rather be with a spicy tigress witch.” His hand then moves back down. “Now, let’s get the hell out of here.” He spits for the last time to get the rest of the blood from out of his mouth. The bleeding inside stopped, and the cut on his lip began to slow with the bleeding as well. She leads him out, and Kahlel is visible out of the corner of his eye. A straight scowl is given which meant that Tiber would also be waiting. As the two head on the main road, and she asks the man how he is holding up, he wipes his bloodied mouth to get it out of the way so he did not look any more suspicious to passer-byers. It was clean enough now—nothing but the cut and bruising around his jaw. The man is quiet with her questions, for the witch was talking way too much. Her touch was gentle and there was a faint cringe at the touch, only because the bruising. Then again, the wolf was used to the beatings by now that it did not seem to faze him, but the guilty look on the witch’s perfectly sculpted face did. The warmth. The tenderness. Silence basks around him as he simply gazes at her with softness in his usual hardened amber eyes. The watch is shown into view, and automatically the man reaches to place the woman’s hand down to kiss her because he really did not care about the watch. Because right now, the only lead he wanted to take was to be selfish and touch her, even if he had that feeling of fear that she would cower away. If she did, if any reason at all, he would abruptly stop, but right now, he needed her because she had been a surging tide in his dizzy world. And right now, although battered and bruised, Tiber wanted to fall into her tide. To kiss her. To feel her warmth. Be enveloped in just… her.

The witch knows better than to comment each time Tiber spits out blood, though the concern in her stare is obvious and heartfelt. She talks too much when she’s nervous, and her constant rambling is likely getting on the lycan’s last nerve. She’s –still- talking, even as Tiber falls silent and stares at her guilty face, oblivious to the face that she’s about to be kissed. “Um… I can just go back to my place if you would rather just sleep off your injuries. Or maybe I can try and clean you up some more… At least put some ice on that cheek? We would also just chat and drink some wine, or I can just stop by in a few days after visiting my sister in Frostmaw?” Why was Tiberius so silent? Why was Lanara still babbling about all the possibilities that the evening could take? She knew better than to continue this attachment, she knew what the end would hold, but she is so undeniably caught up in her feelings for the man that she can’t bear to be more than a few feet away. Some in the lands were addicted to herbal mixtures, some to cigarettes, and others to alcohol. A few had various vices that led to their destruction, be it gambling, living on the edge, or dealing in illegal objects. Lanara Banks had one main addiction, one drug that gave her such a thrill, and one sickness that no amount of rehabilitation would be able to cure; Tiberius Lowell. It’s her final thought, before the hand holding her clutch is lowered, and the lycan pulls her into his arms for a passionate kiss. Lana feels the adrenaline fueling through her veins, the heightened awareness of lust mingling with a hint of his blood, and she tastes the bottled up emotions that Tiber has been too scared to admit. He needed a ‘hit’ just as badly as the witch, it seemed, and neither is likely to break from the embrace anytime soon. Lana’s fears about closeness are washed away with the tide, and each granule of sand remains clinging to Tiber’s arms, his cheeks, his chest, as her hands roam over his form as though she didn’t truly believe he was there in the flesh. She wasn’t dreaming, this was reality, and never before had she felt so swept away by a single kiss. Her heart beats wildly as she mixes up her kisses, slow and sensual lead into frantic and filled with desire. The promises she cannot make, and the love he cannot speak of, all pour into their kisses, and it’s only when someone yells for the couple to ‘get a room’ that Lana leans back slightly, “We are drawing a crowd, it seems.” The elf’s lips are slightly puffy from their mini make-out session, and her cheeks are a fiery shade of red, but all in all, this is the happiest Tiber would have seen the witch since her return.

Although gentle and tender at first, the lycan then pulls her in tighter into him because he wanted her. Only her. One hand now snaking to her face while the other moves to the small of her back. The man was barely settling into the fact that this was reality. The impulsion that he swept him in. He always had been, but she was the woman who wrapped him around her nail. The sweet tide mixed of lust, girly fragrance, cologne, salt, and liquor. And somehow her lips wash away the lingering questions for now, for right now, he was doing what they said they should. Just being. Today was the first day that Tiber held the sort of passion that Lanara was looking for, for he was realizing that she was… air. ‘Get a room’ echoes in the background, and the man comes to a slow before pulling back. Eyes side-gaze at the person who yells and then his gaze falls on her own. She is crimson, and still his skin is cool and collective in his confidence. “Oh, I could do a lot more, I’m sure.” The man would grin teasingly before kissing her neck gently. “Something had to quiet you.” His hand brushes along her cheek, and he gazes at her a moment more before slowly pulling back, so the crowd can get on with their day. “Listen, I know you’re having a hard time just…” He did not know how to put together words for once, and the lycan sort of squints and looks up before gazing at her again. “I want you to do what makes you… be. Self-assured. So, here’s the deal, you can either come home with me tonight—stay the night—nothing crazy just booze and… sleep. Or, you can leave me, but know that I will still be here. Waiting. For you.” Well, metaphorically since the man still had work, but it was a nice thought.

Lanara quirks a brow at Tiber’s words and replies in a sultry tone, “Don’t tease unless you intend to please, Darling.” She laughs as someone further down the block begins to applaud their public display of affection, and cuddles closer to Tiber as he envelopes her in tenderness. She had yearned for his attention for the duration of a year, and now that he is so willing to dish out affection, she finds herself having withdrawals the moment he leans back. The lycan is a powerful drug, plain and simple. The witch feels the moment ending as Tiber glances upwards and seems to struggle to find his words, leaving her to wait on bated breath. She knows she should go back to her crappy apartment and get some rest, it’s the most logical of plans, but she finds herself grinning and agreeing, “I’m working on it, Ty…” He didn’t know how hard his witch was struggling, and she still had so much to tell him, but in time all would be unveiled. “I think sharing a bottle and hanging out until we fall asleep sounds like fun… But…” She pauses, as her hand lifts to gently feel for the hourglass pendant, “I will have to leave early in the morning to head home and grab a few things, before I head up to Frostmaw to see my sister.” There wouldn’t be any danger as long as the necklace stayed securely in its place, and she would just insist that she shower at her own apartment. “Oh. And I expect another one of those kisses before bed, along with one of your button down shirts, as I don’t have anything to wear.” The chatty witch takes Tiber’s hand, as they continue on their way to his apartment, and it seems so natural, as though they had never parted ways a year prior.

Tiberius offers the woman a sly smile with that cut lip and bruising jaw. Charming, sure. As she calls him ‘Ty’, he fights the urge to fidget out of habit because ‘Ty’ was an old nickname from a long time ago. He stays collected for her, for he knows he will grow used to the nickname. A brow furrows at the mention of her ‘working on it’. “I know you’re working on it. And no pressure.” A smile finally finds its way to his face again—easy against her grin. Cool and lazy. The man could not help but to smile, for… he might have been sitting on cloud nine right about now with her just in his embrace again. The pause makes his lips twitch as if she was letting down a little kid, but she saves his mood by the thought of waking up early. “I can wake you. I have to be up early too,” he says hesitantly. Work was work with him. Normally discreet. His eyes look the woman up and down. “Your sister in Frostmaw.” That was a long journey. There was an impulsion to follow her up that mountain, but he keeps his head steady. Why the hell was he so possessive, lately? Had he always had this trait about him? It must have been a wolf thing. A grin plasters against his face again and he leans into breathe against her ear, “If you think that was the last of that kiss, gods, babe, you’re wrong.” And then he squints. A very hot and cold attitude he bore. “No white. That’s all I ask. I don’t need any make-up stains on it,” and there was the brooding Tiber she knew and loved. “Let’s go,” he would lift her hand and press it to his lips before moving off with her to his apartment for a night of booze, laughs, lustful kissing, and, most importantly, sleep.