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He didn’t move under the weight of her gaze, feeling exactly like he was staring at a fearful doe. If he moved, if he even so much as twitched, it would signal to her that there was danger and she’d bolt. Long practiced in the art of complete stillness, Gavriil waited while she decided within herself what she would do with his request. It was only when she set down her fork and legs of her chair scraped against the floor that he leaned back in his chair. He wouldn’t have risen, even without the touch of her hand on his shoulder as she applied gentle pressure to keep him in place. Bracing his feet against the floor, he pushed his chair back and whether she was already in motion or he’d invited it, he found Evangelina curling into his lap, situating herself as easily as if she’d done it a hundred times before.
He rested his hands on the outsides of her thighs, the soft fabric of her yellow dress forming a barrier between them as she shifted to face him. His solid gaze met her questioning one and he let his head rest back against the chair as she smoothed her thumb along his lips, speaking quietly to him. “Are you asking for me? Or for you?” Again, he didn’t move a single muscle. This was one of those times where she’d bolt again if she sensed that there was any uncertainty. She would find none. Gavriil offered literally nothing that he did not wish to offer already. Possibly he wouldn’t have actually moved on the impulse without her exact answer to that question, but once decided and said, that was his plan. He didn’t second guess things and he didn’t look back.
“If the first, I don’t mind waiting.” She went on. His eyes searched her face as the soft tips of her fingers tickled along his skin. The weight of her in his lap, how light she was, the warmth of another person against him after being so long without was, admittedly, a little distracting. “If the second, I’ve already agreed to marry you so it’s not my ruination, you know?” Again, he said nothing and she didn’t seem to need her musings answered. Her hand slid down to his chest, resting there. He reached up with his left, covering her hand for the moment. She barely got out her guess that dinner was over before he leaned up to kiss her.
“Come.” He pushed the chair back further and waited for her to stand before he did. Then he took her by the hand towards the stairs. With Dorotheos gone, Dorothea gone, Alexa gone, Iason gone...there was literally no one here to stop them or interrupt them but servants, and the servants probably wouldn’t dare. Besides, the servants in the Dimitrou manor were treated well. They had little enough reason to be petty and spread rumors.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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He didn’t move under the weight of her gaze, feeling exactly like he was staring at a fearful doe. If he moved, if he even so much as twitched, it would signal to her that there was danger and she’d bolt. Long practiced in the art of complete stillness, Gavriil waited while she decided within herself what she would do with his request. It was only when she set down her fork and legs of her chair scraped against the floor that he leaned back in his chair. He wouldn’t have risen, even without the touch of her hand on his shoulder as she applied gentle pressure to keep him in place. Bracing his feet against the floor, he pushed his chair back and whether she was already in motion or he’d invited it, he found Evangelina curling into his lap, situating herself as easily as if she’d done it a hundred times before.
He rested his hands on the outsides of her thighs, the soft fabric of her yellow dress forming a barrier between them as she shifted to face him. His solid gaze met her questioning one and he let his head rest back against the chair as she smoothed her thumb along his lips, speaking quietly to him. “Are you asking for me? Or for you?” Again, he didn’t move a single muscle. This was one of those times where she’d bolt again if she sensed that there was any uncertainty. She would find none. Gavriil offered literally nothing that he did not wish to offer already. Possibly he wouldn’t have actually moved on the impulse without her exact answer to that question, but once decided and said, that was his plan. He didn’t second guess things and he didn’t look back.
“If the first, I don’t mind waiting.” She went on. His eyes searched her face as the soft tips of her fingers tickled along his skin. The weight of her in his lap, how light she was, the warmth of another person against him after being so long without was, admittedly, a little distracting. “If the second, I’ve already agreed to marry you so it’s not my ruination, you know?” Again, he said nothing and she didn’t seem to need her musings answered. Her hand slid down to his chest, resting there. He reached up with his left, covering her hand for the moment. She barely got out her guess that dinner was over before he leaned up to kiss her.
“Come.” He pushed the chair back further and waited for her to stand before he did. Then he took her by the hand towards the stairs. With Dorotheos gone, Dorothea gone, Alexa gone, Iason gone...there was literally no one here to stop them or interrupt them but servants, and the servants probably wouldn’t dare. Besides, the servants in the Dimitrou manor were treated well. They had little enough reason to be petty and spread rumors.
He didn’t move under the weight of her gaze, feeling exactly like he was staring at a fearful doe. If he moved, if he even so much as twitched, it would signal to her that there was danger and she’d bolt. Long practiced in the art of complete stillness, Gavriil waited while she decided within herself what she would do with his request. It was only when she set down her fork and legs of her chair scraped against the floor that he leaned back in his chair. He wouldn’t have risen, even without the touch of her hand on his shoulder as she applied gentle pressure to keep him in place. Bracing his feet against the floor, he pushed his chair back and whether she was already in motion or he’d invited it, he found Evangelina curling into his lap, situating herself as easily as if she’d done it a hundred times before.
He rested his hands on the outsides of her thighs, the soft fabric of her yellow dress forming a barrier between them as she shifted to face him. His solid gaze met her questioning one and he let his head rest back against the chair as she smoothed her thumb along his lips, speaking quietly to him. “Are you asking for me? Or for you?” Again, he didn’t move a single muscle. This was one of those times where she’d bolt again if she sensed that there was any uncertainty. She would find none. Gavriil offered literally nothing that he did not wish to offer already. Possibly he wouldn’t have actually moved on the impulse without her exact answer to that question, but once decided and said, that was his plan. He didn’t second guess things and he didn’t look back.
“If the first, I don’t mind waiting.” She went on. His eyes searched her face as the soft tips of her fingers tickled along his skin. The weight of her in his lap, how light she was, the warmth of another person against him after being so long without was, admittedly, a little distracting. “If the second, I’ve already agreed to marry you so it’s not my ruination, you know?” Again, he said nothing and she didn’t seem to need her musings answered. Her hand slid down to his chest, resting there. He reached up with his left, covering her hand for the moment. She barely got out her guess that dinner was over before he leaned up to kiss her.
“Come.” He pushed the chair back further and waited for her to stand before he did. Then he took her by the hand towards the stairs. With Dorotheos gone, Dorothea gone, Alexa gone, Iason gone...there was literally no one here to stop them or interrupt them but servants, and the servants probably wouldn’t dare. Besides, the servants in the Dimitrou manor were treated well. They had little enough reason to be petty and spread rumors.
The way his calloused, roughened hand gently covered hers was almost her undoing. She would have melted right there if he hadn’t leaned into her, his mouth softly taking possession of her generating a much deeper warmth than the wine ever could. Her fingers tightened as she used his body to brace hers upright. It wasn’t a long kiss but Gavriil had never needed anything more to draw desire from her. He could quirk his long index finger at her in a come here motion and she’d have followed him anywhere he wanted to go.
‘Come.’
The chair scraped against the wood with the simple, single worded request he’d given her. Without breaking the contact of her hand covered by his on her chest she eased off his lap to let him up. Her bottom lip trembled with a mixture of anticipation, nerves, and desire. Was she going to go through with this? Yes, she wanted it. She wanted him. She licked her lip and let him lead her through the dining room to the stairs.
The quietness in the house bespoke of how empty it was tonight. If the Dimitrou servants were in tonight, they were blending into the background and making themselves invisible. At the stair landing, she tightened her hand around his hand reassuringly letting him know that he wasn’t just pulling a lifeless doll along with him. If she went up the stairs with him, there wouldn’t be any turning back for her. She was standing on a threshold of one of most important decisions she’d make. Giving into him tonight wouldn’t be something that she could ever take back.
Looking sideways up at him, she caught her lip between her teeth. She saw a quiet man with some years under his belt. A man who saw her and ignited a stirring for some deeper sort of connection. She wasn’t his first love. She knew that. In fact, he’d never even uttered anything along the lines of love when she’d asked him earlier that afternoon what he’d wanted from their marriage. He’d said a companion. Her mind drifted to his study and her pulse jumped. He wasn’t at all what she’d expected. That left her equal parts aroused and hesitant but one thing was for certain, him. She wanted him, wanted every infuriating, gruff, annoyingly silent bit of him.
“It’s just us here?” Pulling free, she hummed thoughtfully although she’d already known the answer. Without really an idea or plan, she reached for the belted string girdle and untied it letting it slide from her fingers onto the floor as she smiled impishly, “While the cat’s away, the mice will play…” Lifting the hem of her skirt, she darted up the stairs leaving him behind, “Catch me if you can, old man.”
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The way his calloused, roughened hand gently covered hers was almost her undoing. She would have melted right there if he hadn’t leaned into her, his mouth softly taking possession of her generating a much deeper warmth than the wine ever could. Her fingers tightened as she used his body to brace hers upright. It wasn’t a long kiss but Gavriil had never needed anything more to draw desire from her. He could quirk his long index finger at her in a come here motion and she’d have followed him anywhere he wanted to go.
‘Come.’
The chair scraped against the wood with the simple, single worded request he’d given her. Without breaking the contact of her hand covered by his on her chest she eased off his lap to let him up. Her bottom lip trembled with a mixture of anticipation, nerves, and desire. Was she going to go through with this? Yes, she wanted it. She wanted him. She licked her lip and let him lead her through the dining room to the stairs.
The quietness in the house bespoke of how empty it was tonight. If the Dimitrou servants were in tonight, they were blending into the background and making themselves invisible. At the stair landing, she tightened her hand around his hand reassuringly letting him know that he wasn’t just pulling a lifeless doll along with him. If she went up the stairs with him, there wouldn’t be any turning back for her. She was standing on a threshold of one of most important decisions she’d make. Giving into him tonight wouldn’t be something that she could ever take back.
Looking sideways up at him, she caught her lip between her teeth. She saw a quiet man with some years under his belt. A man who saw her and ignited a stirring for some deeper sort of connection. She wasn’t his first love. She knew that. In fact, he’d never even uttered anything along the lines of love when she’d asked him earlier that afternoon what he’d wanted from their marriage. He’d said a companion. Her mind drifted to his study and her pulse jumped. He wasn’t at all what she’d expected. That left her equal parts aroused and hesitant but one thing was for certain, him. She wanted him, wanted every infuriating, gruff, annoyingly silent bit of him.
“It’s just us here?” Pulling free, she hummed thoughtfully although she’d already known the answer. Without really an idea or plan, she reached for the belted string girdle and untied it letting it slide from her fingers onto the floor as she smiled impishly, “While the cat’s away, the mice will play…” Lifting the hem of her skirt, she darted up the stairs leaving him behind, “Catch me if you can, old man.”
The way his calloused, roughened hand gently covered hers was almost her undoing. She would have melted right there if he hadn’t leaned into her, his mouth softly taking possession of her generating a much deeper warmth than the wine ever could. Her fingers tightened as she used his body to brace hers upright. It wasn’t a long kiss but Gavriil had never needed anything more to draw desire from her. He could quirk his long index finger at her in a come here motion and she’d have followed him anywhere he wanted to go.
‘Come.’
The chair scraped against the wood with the simple, single worded request he’d given her. Without breaking the contact of her hand covered by his on her chest she eased off his lap to let him up. Her bottom lip trembled with a mixture of anticipation, nerves, and desire. Was she going to go through with this? Yes, she wanted it. She wanted him. She licked her lip and let him lead her through the dining room to the stairs.
The quietness in the house bespoke of how empty it was tonight. If the Dimitrou servants were in tonight, they were blending into the background and making themselves invisible. At the stair landing, she tightened her hand around his hand reassuringly letting him know that he wasn’t just pulling a lifeless doll along with him. If she went up the stairs with him, there wouldn’t be any turning back for her. She was standing on a threshold of one of most important decisions she’d make. Giving into him tonight wouldn’t be something that she could ever take back.
Looking sideways up at him, she caught her lip between her teeth. She saw a quiet man with some years under his belt. A man who saw her and ignited a stirring for some deeper sort of connection. She wasn’t his first love. She knew that. In fact, he’d never even uttered anything along the lines of love when she’d asked him earlier that afternoon what he’d wanted from their marriage. He’d said a companion. Her mind drifted to his study and her pulse jumped. He wasn’t at all what she’d expected. That left her equal parts aroused and hesitant but one thing was for certain, him. She wanted him, wanted every infuriating, gruff, annoyingly silent bit of him.
“It’s just us here?” Pulling free, she hummed thoughtfully although she’d already known the answer. Without really an idea or plan, she reached for the belted string girdle and untied it letting it slide from her fingers onto the floor as she smiled impishly, “While the cat’s away, the mice will play…” Lifting the hem of her skirt, she darted up the stairs leaving him behind, “Catch me if you can, old man.”
He had a conflicting impression of the woman beside him. The first was of a young woman, lost and ill used, searching for some sort of center - a place of belonging. She was a boat, drifting too far out from shore and trying desperately to row for safe harbor. The other impression was that he walked beside the sun, which could sometimes appear small, be hidden behind clouds, even disappear for a time, but always come back blazing and radiant and blasting heat. She could be both of those things at once, but at the moment, he assumed he was leading the woman sitting in the prow of the boat, paddling against waves to find her way. It wasn’t until she paused, lip caught by her teeth, her question posed, that he realized he was mistaken.
“It’s just us here?” They were midway up on the step and he looked down at her, sensing the question had nothing to do with his family. She already knew Alexa was with her aunt, that Dorothea was staying with a friend, that Dorotheos wouldn’t be home either. The house was silent in the way that all houses tend to be; not. It had its customary sighs of wind slipping through windows, or the odd creak of floor joists. In the very distance the faintest clinks of pottery suggested there was a hint of life at that end of the house, but none that would dare venture here. For all intents and purposes, they were, in fact, alone. No servant had any business at this end of the house and so he said in the most articulate of voices, “Yes.”
Whether his single word set off the cascade or her hand was already traveling to her belt, Gavriil looked down in time to see the length of string drop to the floor in a braided coil, lying on the steps like a snake sunning on summer stones. He looked up, saw her impish grin flash, and then she was gone. He heard something about cats and mice, understood her meaning, and without thinking another thing about it, took off after her. Older he may be but unfit he was not.
Gavriil was not like most men his age. He did not and never had consumed a lot of rich foods. He preferred a diet of simple foods, like venison or boar or fowl. His family enjoyed a plentiful amount of vegetables and fruits and grains. The rich, honey laden, cream heavy dishes were ones that were generally not found on his table. They tasted wonderful but sagged about a person’s middle. As an archer, he liked to be lean and able to move quickly when necessary. Carrying excess bulk on his frame would do him no favors. His long, daily walks, and daily archery practice didn’t keep him in the most muscled form, but it kept him fit. He could have leapt the stairs two at a time after her but chose not to. He let her dart around the corner and waited a few seconds to give her a head start and then dashed after her.
Where she thought she was going, though, was a better question because there were several rooms on this floor. Some belonged to different members of his family, some were merely guest rooms, and his own, of course, was the biggest at the furthest end of the hall. Unlike her, though, he hadn’t reached for his belt to disrobe. He wanted to know the rules of her little game, first. If there was anything he’d picked up about her thus far, it was that she had rules and they may be ambiguous, but they were ironclad, do-not-cross-this-line-rules. Obviously he knew where she meant this to end up, but he felt it’d be a tad strange to streak after her fully naked if she wasn’t naked first. They weren’t down at the beach, after all. Though, at the moment, he rather wished they were.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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He had a conflicting impression of the woman beside him. The first was of a young woman, lost and ill used, searching for some sort of center - a place of belonging. She was a boat, drifting too far out from shore and trying desperately to row for safe harbor. The other impression was that he walked beside the sun, which could sometimes appear small, be hidden behind clouds, even disappear for a time, but always come back blazing and radiant and blasting heat. She could be both of those things at once, but at the moment, he assumed he was leading the woman sitting in the prow of the boat, paddling against waves to find her way. It wasn’t until she paused, lip caught by her teeth, her question posed, that he realized he was mistaken.
“It’s just us here?” They were midway up on the step and he looked down at her, sensing the question had nothing to do with his family. She already knew Alexa was with her aunt, that Dorothea was staying with a friend, that Dorotheos wouldn’t be home either. The house was silent in the way that all houses tend to be; not. It had its customary sighs of wind slipping through windows, or the odd creak of floor joists. In the very distance the faintest clinks of pottery suggested there was a hint of life at that end of the house, but none that would dare venture here. For all intents and purposes, they were, in fact, alone. No servant had any business at this end of the house and so he said in the most articulate of voices, “Yes.”
Whether his single word set off the cascade or her hand was already traveling to her belt, Gavriil looked down in time to see the length of string drop to the floor in a braided coil, lying on the steps like a snake sunning on summer stones. He looked up, saw her impish grin flash, and then she was gone. He heard something about cats and mice, understood her meaning, and without thinking another thing about it, took off after her. Older he may be but unfit he was not.
Gavriil was not like most men his age. He did not and never had consumed a lot of rich foods. He preferred a diet of simple foods, like venison or boar or fowl. His family enjoyed a plentiful amount of vegetables and fruits and grains. The rich, honey laden, cream heavy dishes were ones that were generally not found on his table. They tasted wonderful but sagged about a person’s middle. As an archer, he liked to be lean and able to move quickly when necessary. Carrying excess bulk on his frame would do him no favors. His long, daily walks, and daily archery practice didn’t keep him in the most muscled form, but it kept him fit. He could have leapt the stairs two at a time after her but chose not to. He let her dart around the corner and waited a few seconds to give her a head start and then dashed after her.
Where she thought she was going, though, was a better question because there were several rooms on this floor. Some belonged to different members of his family, some were merely guest rooms, and his own, of course, was the biggest at the furthest end of the hall. Unlike her, though, he hadn’t reached for his belt to disrobe. He wanted to know the rules of her little game, first. If there was anything he’d picked up about her thus far, it was that she had rules and they may be ambiguous, but they were ironclad, do-not-cross-this-line-rules. Obviously he knew where she meant this to end up, but he felt it’d be a tad strange to streak after her fully naked if she wasn’t naked first. They weren’t down at the beach, after all. Though, at the moment, he rather wished they were.
He had a conflicting impression of the woman beside him. The first was of a young woman, lost and ill used, searching for some sort of center - a place of belonging. She was a boat, drifting too far out from shore and trying desperately to row for safe harbor. The other impression was that he walked beside the sun, which could sometimes appear small, be hidden behind clouds, even disappear for a time, but always come back blazing and radiant and blasting heat. She could be both of those things at once, but at the moment, he assumed he was leading the woman sitting in the prow of the boat, paddling against waves to find her way. It wasn’t until she paused, lip caught by her teeth, her question posed, that he realized he was mistaken.
“It’s just us here?” They were midway up on the step and he looked down at her, sensing the question had nothing to do with his family. She already knew Alexa was with her aunt, that Dorothea was staying with a friend, that Dorotheos wouldn’t be home either. The house was silent in the way that all houses tend to be; not. It had its customary sighs of wind slipping through windows, or the odd creak of floor joists. In the very distance the faintest clinks of pottery suggested there was a hint of life at that end of the house, but none that would dare venture here. For all intents and purposes, they were, in fact, alone. No servant had any business at this end of the house and so he said in the most articulate of voices, “Yes.”
Whether his single word set off the cascade or her hand was already traveling to her belt, Gavriil looked down in time to see the length of string drop to the floor in a braided coil, lying on the steps like a snake sunning on summer stones. He looked up, saw her impish grin flash, and then she was gone. He heard something about cats and mice, understood her meaning, and without thinking another thing about it, took off after her. Older he may be but unfit he was not.
Gavriil was not like most men his age. He did not and never had consumed a lot of rich foods. He preferred a diet of simple foods, like venison or boar or fowl. His family enjoyed a plentiful amount of vegetables and fruits and grains. The rich, honey laden, cream heavy dishes were ones that were generally not found on his table. They tasted wonderful but sagged about a person’s middle. As an archer, he liked to be lean and able to move quickly when necessary. Carrying excess bulk on his frame would do him no favors. His long, daily walks, and daily archery practice didn’t keep him in the most muscled form, but it kept him fit. He could have leapt the stairs two at a time after her but chose not to. He let her dart around the corner and waited a few seconds to give her a head start and then dashed after her.
Where she thought she was going, though, was a better question because there were several rooms on this floor. Some belonged to different members of his family, some were merely guest rooms, and his own, of course, was the biggest at the furthest end of the hall. Unlike her, though, he hadn’t reached for his belt to disrobe. He wanted to know the rules of her little game, first. If there was anything he’d picked up about her thus far, it was that she had rules and they may be ambiguous, but they were ironclad, do-not-cross-this-line-rules. Obviously he knew where she meant this to end up, but he felt it’d be a tad strange to streak after her fully naked if she wasn’t naked first. They weren’t down at the beach, after all. Though, at the moment, he rather wished they were.
The one word answer slipped off his tongue with the sweetest of sounds. Of course, she’d known the answer to the question but it had strengthened her resolve to go through with her intentions. Tilting her head every so slightly so that her dark, earthy eyes burned up at him as she’d dropped the corded belt, letting it slide through her fingers to hit the step next to her feet. There were quite a few benefits of not being ladylike, this was one of them. She could wantonly pursue him, tease him, taste him, and not feel the least bit of guilt.
Over the years, Evangelina had learned how to repress some of her more wild tendencies. She’d never quite fit into the box that she was expected too. She’d learned to be guarded and careful who saw her in these more controversial moods. It felt like she was being allowed to drop a mask she’d been holding onto for too long, shed a skin that wasn’t hers, or… finally drop her so closely held guard. A smile danced over her lips before she dashed up the stairs out of his reach. Her fingers fumbling only a little before she was able to unclasp the few pins that had held her dress in place before she stepped out of it easily at the top of the stairs.
Leaving the buttery yellow silk of her dress there at the top of the stairs, she paused only long enough to shoot a fleeting glance over her now nude shoulder down at him. The curve of her smile tilted up on one side, there was a flicker of a challenge there in the deepest depths of her mink brown eyes. In an instant she was gone, hidden from him as she escaped down the hall. It was good to know she wasn’t going to burst into a room and find one of his children in her current state of dress. Still she didn’t instantly go for any of the rooms, drawn instead to move further, deeper into the hall. He liked a hunt, so she gave him a trail to follow and every so often she would leave a small souvenir for him. A shoe here. Her strophia there. Her other shoe a little further away. The fabric of her bottoms further down. Until there was nothing left to leave for him.
Leaning against the furthest end wall wearing nothing but a small smile, she waited. A small tremble in her hands as much from adrenaline as was from nerves. The wine had helped to dampen that lingering voice in her head that she shouldn’t be so bold with him. What if he mistook her for… Well, that wasn’t going to happen after her admittance to thinking there was something defective about her.
The sounds of footsteps drawing closer caused her smile to deepen and come from somewhere deeper inside her. She waited until he was practically in front of her before she slowly drew her gaze up to meet his. She leaned her weight back against the wall, tilting her head back and jutting her chin out just a little. The candle light flickered down casting otherworldly shadows off her. Licking her lips, she arched an eyebrow at him. Well, the next move was his...
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The one word answer slipped off his tongue with the sweetest of sounds. Of course, she’d known the answer to the question but it had strengthened her resolve to go through with her intentions. Tilting her head every so slightly so that her dark, earthy eyes burned up at him as she’d dropped the corded belt, letting it slide through her fingers to hit the step next to her feet. There were quite a few benefits of not being ladylike, this was one of them. She could wantonly pursue him, tease him, taste him, and not feel the least bit of guilt.
Over the years, Evangelina had learned how to repress some of her more wild tendencies. She’d never quite fit into the box that she was expected too. She’d learned to be guarded and careful who saw her in these more controversial moods. It felt like she was being allowed to drop a mask she’d been holding onto for too long, shed a skin that wasn’t hers, or… finally drop her so closely held guard. A smile danced over her lips before she dashed up the stairs out of his reach. Her fingers fumbling only a little before she was able to unclasp the few pins that had held her dress in place before she stepped out of it easily at the top of the stairs.
Leaving the buttery yellow silk of her dress there at the top of the stairs, she paused only long enough to shoot a fleeting glance over her now nude shoulder down at him. The curve of her smile tilted up on one side, there was a flicker of a challenge there in the deepest depths of her mink brown eyes. In an instant she was gone, hidden from him as she escaped down the hall. It was good to know she wasn’t going to burst into a room and find one of his children in her current state of dress. Still she didn’t instantly go for any of the rooms, drawn instead to move further, deeper into the hall. He liked a hunt, so she gave him a trail to follow and every so often she would leave a small souvenir for him. A shoe here. Her strophia there. Her other shoe a little further away. The fabric of her bottoms further down. Until there was nothing left to leave for him.
Leaning against the furthest end wall wearing nothing but a small smile, she waited. A small tremble in her hands as much from adrenaline as was from nerves. The wine had helped to dampen that lingering voice in her head that she shouldn’t be so bold with him. What if he mistook her for… Well, that wasn’t going to happen after her admittance to thinking there was something defective about her.
The sounds of footsteps drawing closer caused her smile to deepen and come from somewhere deeper inside her. She waited until he was practically in front of her before she slowly drew her gaze up to meet his. She leaned her weight back against the wall, tilting her head back and jutting her chin out just a little. The candle light flickered down casting otherworldly shadows off her. Licking her lips, she arched an eyebrow at him. Well, the next move was his...
The one word answer slipped off his tongue with the sweetest of sounds. Of course, she’d known the answer to the question but it had strengthened her resolve to go through with her intentions. Tilting her head every so slightly so that her dark, earthy eyes burned up at him as she’d dropped the corded belt, letting it slide through her fingers to hit the step next to her feet. There were quite a few benefits of not being ladylike, this was one of them. She could wantonly pursue him, tease him, taste him, and not feel the least bit of guilt.
Over the years, Evangelina had learned how to repress some of her more wild tendencies. She’d never quite fit into the box that she was expected too. She’d learned to be guarded and careful who saw her in these more controversial moods. It felt like she was being allowed to drop a mask she’d been holding onto for too long, shed a skin that wasn’t hers, or… finally drop her so closely held guard. A smile danced over her lips before she dashed up the stairs out of his reach. Her fingers fumbling only a little before she was able to unclasp the few pins that had held her dress in place before she stepped out of it easily at the top of the stairs.
Leaving the buttery yellow silk of her dress there at the top of the stairs, she paused only long enough to shoot a fleeting glance over her now nude shoulder down at him. The curve of her smile tilted up on one side, there was a flicker of a challenge there in the deepest depths of her mink brown eyes. In an instant she was gone, hidden from him as she escaped down the hall. It was good to know she wasn’t going to burst into a room and find one of his children in her current state of dress. Still she didn’t instantly go for any of the rooms, drawn instead to move further, deeper into the hall. He liked a hunt, so she gave him a trail to follow and every so often she would leave a small souvenir for him. A shoe here. Her strophia there. Her other shoe a little further away. The fabric of her bottoms further down. Until there was nothing left to leave for him.
Leaning against the furthest end wall wearing nothing but a small smile, she waited. A small tremble in her hands as much from adrenaline as was from nerves. The wine had helped to dampen that lingering voice in her head that she shouldn’t be so bold with him. What if he mistook her for… Well, that wasn’t going to happen after her admittance to thinking there was something defective about her.
The sounds of footsteps drawing closer caused her smile to deepen and come from somewhere deeper inside her. She waited until he was practically in front of her before she slowly drew her gaze up to meet his. She leaned her weight back against the wall, tilting her head back and jutting her chin out just a little. The candle light flickered down casting otherworldly shadows off her. Licking her lips, she arched an eyebrow at him. Well, the next move was his...
This hunt was not difficult, but it was not meant to be. The amber pool of her dress spilling over the top step like a golden waterfall led him up around the corner where a shoe greeted him. His attention purposefully did not wander up. This hall was long and held no place to hide. The game would be ruined if he stole a glance and so he dutifully followed the path, stepping over the strophia, the next sandal lying sideways, the last of her undergarments lying in a swath of fabric on the floor. He knew without looking what he would find but when he finally did look up, eyes sweeping along the floor and finding first her toes and following the lines of her feet up to her ankles, bare calves, knees, thighs, that she was no less beautiful than she had been at the beach.
The sky outside had deepened to a dusky charcoal, necessitating oil lamps to be lit throughout the house. Some rooms, like his study, were left unlit, but hallways and main rooms did have at least one lamp going, leaving the interior of the Dimitrou manor bathed in luminous gold and richest shadows. In this hall, there were only two lights. One far behind him, and one she stood nearly directly under, so that only parts of her were illuminated whilst darkness wound around her curves like a velvet shawl.
His steps were purposeful and slow as he approached, his steady gaze trailing up until he reached her face and the tentative smile there. For once, he missed one of her signals. He did not notice the tremble of her hands because he was focused on the defiant tilt of her chin that had pulled itself up like a challenge. Not once in his steps did he stop or slow, until he was just before her. Even then, he was in motion, hands cupping her face, lips descending to meet hers, not giving either of them a chance to be awkward or unsure. Their die had been cast and he was of a single purpose now. They stood there for but a few moments before one of his arms slipped around her waist and he drew her with him towards a doorway, pulling his lips from hers for only a moment to open the door and bring her into his room.
If he’d stopped to look at the line of brilliant light the color of marigolds blooming in summer sun, he’d have realized that the fireplace in his room had already been lit. It was the only source of light but it was a new fire, still high and bright and blazing atop its logs, beaming at the large bed with its green throw blankets, the two chairs in front of it, and the antlers casting a mix of shadows like branches along the walls. He lightly shut the door with his fingertips, listening for the soft thud of the wood clicking into place in the frame and drew her with him towards the bed.
Soft breezes brought in the scents of sea air and warm sandstone through the filmy curtains obscuring an open balcony that looked out over the finer homes of Vasiliadon. This was not a view Gavriil particularly valued. He preferred the one back in Maganea, with its cedar boughs and the soft hooting of owls in the trees. She would not hear words from him unless she wanted them because he did not have anything he wanted to verbally say. Words did not belong in moments like these. They were clunky and incompetent - too likely to be mistaken for different meanings but there was no mistaking warm hands sliding across bare skin and soft breaths exchanged between kisses of slow burning passion.
This character is currently a work in progress.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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This hunt was not difficult, but it was not meant to be. The amber pool of her dress spilling over the top step like a golden waterfall led him up around the corner where a shoe greeted him. His attention purposefully did not wander up. This hall was long and held no place to hide. The game would be ruined if he stole a glance and so he dutifully followed the path, stepping over the strophia, the next sandal lying sideways, the last of her undergarments lying in a swath of fabric on the floor. He knew without looking what he would find but when he finally did look up, eyes sweeping along the floor and finding first her toes and following the lines of her feet up to her ankles, bare calves, knees, thighs, that she was no less beautiful than she had been at the beach.
The sky outside had deepened to a dusky charcoal, necessitating oil lamps to be lit throughout the house. Some rooms, like his study, were left unlit, but hallways and main rooms did have at least one lamp going, leaving the interior of the Dimitrou manor bathed in luminous gold and richest shadows. In this hall, there were only two lights. One far behind him, and one she stood nearly directly under, so that only parts of her were illuminated whilst darkness wound around her curves like a velvet shawl.
His steps were purposeful and slow as he approached, his steady gaze trailing up until he reached her face and the tentative smile there. For once, he missed one of her signals. He did not notice the tremble of her hands because he was focused on the defiant tilt of her chin that had pulled itself up like a challenge. Not once in his steps did he stop or slow, until he was just before her. Even then, he was in motion, hands cupping her face, lips descending to meet hers, not giving either of them a chance to be awkward or unsure. Their die had been cast and he was of a single purpose now. They stood there for but a few moments before one of his arms slipped around her waist and he drew her with him towards a doorway, pulling his lips from hers for only a moment to open the door and bring her into his room.
If he’d stopped to look at the line of brilliant light the color of marigolds blooming in summer sun, he’d have realized that the fireplace in his room had already been lit. It was the only source of light but it was a new fire, still high and bright and blazing atop its logs, beaming at the large bed with its green throw blankets, the two chairs in front of it, and the antlers casting a mix of shadows like branches along the walls. He lightly shut the door with his fingertips, listening for the soft thud of the wood clicking into place in the frame and drew her with him towards the bed.
Soft breezes brought in the scents of sea air and warm sandstone through the filmy curtains obscuring an open balcony that looked out over the finer homes of Vasiliadon. This was not a view Gavriil particularly valued. He preferred the one back in Maganea, with its cedar boughs and the soft hooting of owls in the trees. She would not hear words from him unless she wanted them because he did not have anything he wanted to verbally say. Words did not belong in moments like these. They were clunky and incompetent - too likely to be mistaken for different meanings but there was no mistaking warm hands sliding across bare skin and soft breaths exchanged between kisses of slow burning passion.
This hunt was not difficult, but it was not meant to be. The amber pool of her dress spilling over the top step like a golden waterfall led him up around the corner where a shoe greeted him. His attention purposefully did not wander up. This hall was long and held no place to hide. The game would be ruined if he stole a glance and so he dutifully followed the path, stepping over the strophia, the next sandal lying sideways, the last of her undergarments lying in a swath of fabric on the floor. He knew without looking what he would find but when he finally did look up, eyes sweeping along the floor and finding first her toes and following the lines of her feet up to her ankles, bare calves, knees, thighs, that she was no less beautiful than she had been at the beach.
The sky outside had deepened to a dusky charcoal, necessitating oil lamps to be lit throughout the house. Some rooms, like his study, were left unlit, but hallways and main rooms did have at least one lamp going, leaving the interior of the Dimitrou manor bathed in luminous gold and richest shadows. In this hall, there were only two lights. One far behind him, and one she stood nearly directly under, so that only parts of her were illuminated whilst darkness wound around her curves like a velvet shawl.
His steps were purposeful and slow as he approached, his steady gaze trailing up until he reached her face and the tentative smile there. For once, he missed one of her signals. He did not notice the tremble of her hands because he was focused on the defiant tilt of her chin that had pulled itself up like a challenge. Not once in his steps did he stop or slow, until he was just before her. Even then, he was in motion, hands cupping her face, lips descending to meet hers, not giving either of them a chance to be awkward or unsure. Their die had been cast and he was of a single purpose now. They stood there for but a few moments before one of his arms slipped around her waist and he drew her with him towards a doorway, pulling his lips from hers for only a moment to open the door and bring her into his room.
If he’d stopped to look at the line of brilliant light the color of marigolds blooming in summer sun, he’d have realized that the fireplace in his room had already been lit. It was the only source of light but it was a new fire, still high and bright and blazing atop its logs, beaming at the large bed with its green throw blankets, the two chairs in front of it, and the antlers casting a mix of shadows like branches along the walls. He lightly shut the door with his fingertips, listening for the soft thud of the wood clicking into place in the frame and drew her with him towards the bed.
Soft breezes brought in the scents of sea air and warm sandstone through the filmy curtains obscuring an open balcony that looked out over the finer homes of Vasiliadon. This was not a view Gavriil particularly valued. He preferred the one back in Maganea, with its cedar boughs and the soft hooting of owls in the trees. She would not hear words from him unless she wanted them because he did not have anything he wanted to verbally say. Words did not belong in moments like these. They were clunky and incompetent - too likely to be mistaken for different meanings but there was no mistaking warm hands sliding across bare skin and soft breaths exchanged between kisses of slow burning passion.
Evangelina had always considered herself a patient person; there had been many times that she’d stood waiting for a horse to accept her presence but leaning there against the hallway wall she felt like her patience had been imagined. Each step he took drew him deeper into the hallway, his gaze never raising up to meet hers until he was there standing in front of her. Her fingers itched to reach out and close the distance between them but she didn’t dare move. With a delicious sort of agonizing slowness, his hands couldn’t have undone her more than the way his gaze started at her toes and crept up her ankles, calves, thighs… Her trembling had stopped as her dark eyes focused on watching him look at her, all of her.
Was this what it was like to be beautiful?
Her breathing paused, the look on his face said that she was beautiful. It wasn’t simple desire but desire intertwined with the most unfamiliar sort of intimacy. It was so similar to that feeling of being stuck in the darkness and suddenly a lantern was lit. So many things were falling into place within her. The chaos of her mind had quieted. The room had dulled. At that moment, they were the only two existing. Eventually, his warm gaze met her’s and the breath she’d not realized she’d been holding was slowly let out. His hands were cupping her face and she wasn’t sure if she’d stepped towards him or if he’d stepped closer to her but the distance was closed. Her lips parted softly as she relaxed into him.
There was a tender possessiveness that said the words that neither of them were good at. Reaching out she wound an arm over his bent neck letting herself surrender and drown out every hesitation, every doubt she’d ever believed about herself. There were a lot of things she might not have been very good at but loving him would never be one of those things she struggled with. With one arm, he wrapped it around the small of her waist as he took the few steps it took to get to his door. She moved willingly, never breaking the contact until he pulled away just long enough to open the door and pull her inside the nearest room.
It could have been any room in any house anywhere in Taengea, her heated gaze had focused on him, the dull physical ache he’d created in her, and the way the soft evening breeze teased her bare skin. Slipping her hands up his chest again, she pressed her lips against his as if she was drawing his life source from his body. Her tongue teased hoping to make him ache just as deeply as she did. The hands roughened from using a bow stroked exploring where his eyes had already, working over her skin enough to generate a sweet little moan from her lips as they slipped down her back. Pressing herself closer, she was ever so grateful that he didn’t give her the opportunity to think and examine what she should have been doing. Instead, Evangelina moved instinctively. She touched and tasted, sating her own curiosity in a slow, indulgent manner as if she had all the time in the world.
Her body was humming to life, slowly igniting, driving her to encourage him silently. He was now privy to all the most damaged parts of her but with each stroke it was like the broken pieces were coming back together. Inhaling his scent, her eyes closed and sighed softly at the scent of horses and leather, man and wine. How could his touch make her body come to life like this?
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Evangelina had always considered herself a patient person; there had been many times that she’d stood waiting for a horse to accept her presence but leaning there against the hallway wall she felt like her patience had been imagined. Each step he took drew him deeper into the hallway, his gaze never raising up to meet hers until he was there standing in front of her. Her fingers itched to reach out and close the distance between them but she didn’t dare move. With a delicious sort of agonizing slowness, his hands couldn’t have undone her more than the way his gaze started at her toes and crept up her ankles, calves, thighs… Her trembling had stopped as her dark eyes focused on watching him look at her, all of her.
Was this what it was like to be beautiful?
Her breathing paused, the look on his face said that she was beautiful. It wasn’t simple desire but desire intertwined with the most unfamiliar sort of intimacy. It was so similar to that feeling of being stuck in the darkness and suddenly a lantern was lit. So many things were falling into place within her. The chaos of her mind had quieted. The room had dulled. At that moment, they were the only two existing. Eventually, his warm gaze met her’s and the breath she’d not realized she’d been holding was slowly let out. His hands were cupping her face and she wasn’t sure if she’d stepped towards him or if he’d stepped closer to her but the distance was closed. Her lips parted softly as she relaxed into him.
There was a tender possessiveness that said the words that neither of them were good at. Reaching out she wound an arm over his bent neck letting herself surrender and drown out every hesitation, every doubt she’d ever believed about herself. There were a lot of things she might not have been very good at but loving him would never be one of those things she struggled with. With one arm, he wrapped it around the small of her waist as he took the few steps it took to get to his door. She moved willingly, never breaking the contact until he pulled away just long enough to open the door and pull her inside the nearest room.
It could have been any room in any house anywhere in Taengea, her heated gaze had focused on him, the dull physical ache he’d created in her, and the way the soft evening breeze teased her bare skin. Slipping her hands up his chest again, she pressed her lips against his as if she was drawing his life source from his body. Her tongue teased hoping to make him ache just as deeply as she did. The hands roughened from using a bow stroked exploring where his eyes had already, working over her skin enough to generate a sweet little moan from her lips as they slipped down her back. Pressing herself closer, she was ever so grateful that he didn’t give her the opportunity to think and examine what she should have been doing. Instead, Evangelina moved instinctively. She touched and tasted, sating her own curiosity in a slow, indulgent manner as if she had all the time in the world.
Her body was humming to life, slowly igniting, driving her to encourage him silently. He was now privy to all the most damaged parts of her but with each stroke it was like the broken pieces were coming back together. Inhaling his scent, her eyes closed and sighed softly at the scent of horses and leather, man and wine. How could his touch make her body come to life like this?
Evangelina had always considered herself a patient person; there had been many times that she’d stood waiting for a horse to accept her presence but leaning there against the hallway wall she felt like her patience had been imagined. Each step he took drew him deeper into the hallway, his gaze never raising up to meet hers until he was there standing in front of her. Her fingers itched to reach out and close the distance between them but she didn’t dare move. With a delicious sort of agonizing slowness, his hands couldn’t have undone her more than the way his gaze started at her toes and crept up her ankles, calves, thighs… Her trembling had stopped as her dark eyes focused on watching him look at her, all of her.
Was this what it was like to be beautiful?
Her breathing paused, the look on his face said that she was beautiful. It wasn’t simple desire but desire intertwined with the most unfamiliar sort of intimacy. It was so similar to that feeling of being stuck in the darkness and suddenly a lantern was lit. So many things were falling into place within her. The chaos of her mind had quieted. The room had dulled. At that moment, they were the only two existing. Eventually, his warm gaze met her’s and the breath she’d not realized she’d been holding was slowly let out. His hands were cupping her face and she wasn’t sure if she’d stepped towards him or if he’d stepped closer to her but the distance was closed. Her lips parted softly as she relaxed into him.
There was a tender possessiveness that said the words that neither of them were good at. Reaching out she wound an arm over his bent neck letting herself surrender and drown out every hesitation, every doubt she’d ever believed about herself. There were a lot of things she might not have been very good at but loving him would never be one of those things she struggled with. With one arm, he wrapped it around the small of her waist as he took the few steps it took to get to his door. She moved willingly, never breaking the contact until he pulled away just long enough to open the door and pull her inside the nearest room.
It could have been any room in any house anywhere in Taengea, her heated gaze had focused on him, the dull physical ache he’d created in her, and the way the soft evening breeze teased her bare skin. Slipping her hands up his chest again, she pressed her lips against his as if she was drawing his life source from his body. Her tongue teased hoping to make him ache just as deeply as she did. The hands roughened from using a bow stroked exploring where his eyes had already, working over her skin enough to generate a sweet little moan from her lips as they slipped down her back. Pressing herself closer, she was ever so grateful that he didn’t give her the opportunity to think and examine what she should have been doing. Instead, Evangelina moved instinctively. She touched and tasted, sating her own curiosity in a slow, indulgent manner as if she had all the time in the world.
Her body was humming to life, slowly igniting, driving her to encourage him silently. He was now privy to all the most damaged parts of her but with each stroke it was like the broken pieces were coming back together. Inhaling his scent, her eyes closed and sighed softly at the scent of horses and leather, man and wine. How could his touch make her body come to life like this?
Strands of fire and gold tumbled in rivlets through her hair as his fingers sought out any part that was still braided or bound up. He wanted it all cascading around her shoulders and down her back in a wild mane of chestnut tumbles. One or two pins pinged on the stone floor at their feet but Gavriil did not break their kiss to retrieve them. They lay on the floor as the feet of their owner were pulled away towards the bed, the frame of which sighing under their combined weight. Each languid touch and caress brought them ever closer to satisfying the aching want thrumming between them.
The revelation of freedom that came with clothing falling away, with the soft lips opening to him, of hands exploring him would only be a shock later. He would puzzle over how he could possibly have forgotten by sheer force of will what it was like to be wanted; to look into someone else’s eyes and realize that he didn’t want to be anywhere else than right in that present moment. Evangelina’s presence in his life was one he’d thought of as a winding, curving, river, floating him as easily and effortly to this moment where they lay wrapped up together, fingers interlaced, the backs of her hands pressing into the mattress above her head. He was entirely present, listening for any hitch in her breathing, any tensing of her body silently asking for time, and he stopped entirely whenever those signals came, waiting for her to relax and move in a plea for more. Their bodies aligned like the intertwining constellations of the stars out in the deepening night and they could not go back to how they’d been a few hours ago, even if they’d wanted to.
It was early morning before Gavriil even thought to check the time. He lay with one arm looped around her, face pointed towards the bed of dim coals that had been their fire. The room’s utter darkness was comforting, rather than concerning. His eyes sought the window and he thought with perfect unconcern that she could not leave now. Better that she stay until it was light enough to see, but he would take her home if she wished it. He wondered how long he would have to wait until he never had to think of sending her trotting back to her parents again but he did not ask. Instead, he kept one arm pillowed beneath his head and watched the slate gray of the sky lighten ever so slightly, minute by minute.
Perhaps it was this moment that he’d resisted so much before; this moment of having her and not having her at the same time. He didn’t like moments like this, where things were unsettled even if the understanding between them was as surer now than it had ever been. After a few minutes, he tipped chin down, trying to see if she was awake or asleep.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Strands of fire and gold tumbled in rivlets through her hair as his fingers sought out any part that was still braided or bound up. He wanted it all cascading around her shoulders and down her back in a wild mane of chestnut tumbles. One or two pins pinged on the stone floor at their feet but Gavriil did not break their kiss to retrieve them. They lay on the floor as the feet of their owner were pulled away towards the bed, the frame of which sighing under their combined weight. Each languid touch and caress brought them ever closer to satisfying the aching want thrumming between them.
The revelation of freedom that came with clothing falling away, with the soft lips opening to him, of hands exploring him would only be a shock later. He would puzzle over how he could possibly have forgotten by sheer force of will what it was like to be wanted; to look into someone else’s eyes and realize that he didn’t want to be anywhere else than right in that present moment. Evangelina’s presence in his life was one he’d thought of as a winding, curving, river, floating him as easily and effortly to this moment where they lay wrapped up together, fingers interlaced, the backs of her hands pressing into the mattress above her head. He was entirely present, listening for any hitch in her breathing, any tensing of her body silently asking for time, and he stopped entirely whenever those signals came, waiting for her to relax and move in a plea for more. Their bodies aligned like the intertwining constellations of the stars out in the deepening night and they could not go back to how they’d been a few hours ago, even if they’d wanted to.
It was early morning before Gavriil even thought to check the time. He lay with one arm looped around her, face pointed towards the bed of dim coals that had been their fire. The room’s utter darkness was comforting, rather than concerning. His eyes sought the window and he thought with perfect unconcern that she could not leave now. Better that she stay until it was light enough to see, but he would take her home if she wished it. He wondered how long he would have to wait until he never had to think of sending her trotting back to her parents again but he did not ask. Instead, he kept one arm pillowed beneath his head and watched the slate gray of the sky lighten ever so slightly, minute by minute.
Perhaps it was this moment that he’d resisted so much before; this moment of having her and not having her at the same time. He didn’t like moments like this, where things were unsettled even if the understanding between them was as surer now than it had ever been. After a few minutes, he tipped chin down, trying to see if she was awake or asleep.
Strands of fire and gold tumbled in rivlets through her hair as his fingers sought out any part that was still braided or bound up. He wanted it all cascading around her shoulders and down her back in a wild mane of chestnut tumbles. One or two pins pinged on the stone floor at their feet but Gavriil did not break their kiss to retrieve them. They lay on the floor as the feet of their owner were pulled away towards the bed, the frame of which sighing under their combined weight. Each languid touch and caress brought them ever closer to satisfying the aching want thrumming between them.
The revelation of freedom that came with clothing falling away, with the soft lips opening to him, of hands exploring him would only be a shock later. He would puzzle over how he could possibly have forgotten by sheer force of will what it was like to be wanted; to look into someone else’s eyes and realize that he didn’t want to be anywhere else than right in that present moment. Evangelina’s presence in his life was one he’d thought of as a winding, curving, river, floating him as easily and effortly to this moment where they lay wrapped up together, fingers interlaced, the backs of her hands pressing into the mattress above her head. He was entirely present, listening for any hitch in her breathing, any tensing of her body silently asking for time, and he stopped entirely whenever those signals came, waiting for her to relax and move in a plea for more. Their bodies aligned like the intertwining constellations of the stars out in the deepening night and they could not go back to how they’d been a few hours ago, even if they’d wanted to.
It was early morning before Gavriil even thought to check the time. He lay with one arm looped around her, face pointed towards the bed of dim coals that had been their fire. The room’s utter darkness was comforting, rather than concerning. His eyes sought the window and he thought with perfect unconcern that she could not leave now. Better that she stay until it was light enough to see, but he would take her home if she wished it. He wondered how long he would have to wait until he never had to think of sending her trotting back to her parents again but he did not ask. Instead, he kept one arm pillowed beneath his head and watched the slate gray of the sky lighten ever so slightly, minute by minute.
Perhaps it was this moment that he’d resisted so much before; this moment of having her and not having her at the same time. He didn’t like moments like this, where things were unsettled even if the understanding between them was as surer now than it had ever been. After a few minutes, he tipped chin down, trying to see if she was awake or asleep.
The world outside of this room could wait, the only thing that mattered was the gentle caresses that tied her insides into knots and the way his stormy gaze heated with that delicious aching need for her. His fingers tangled gently in her hair, unraveling her at the seams until the last bits of the person she’d never been certain of was gone leaving her bare and raw, naked in every sense of the word to him. Letting him guide her to the bed, she had a moment of hesitation as the mattress sunk a little at their weight but the hesitation was gone with the soft exhale as she fell into the soft curiosities of the unknown.
She took her time exploring first with the fingertips and then her lips as his clothing fell from him. Evangelina reveled in learning the curves and angles of his body as if it might have been her last opportunity. Until that moment, she’d never thought she’d heard anything more marvelous than his deep, delicious laugh, but she’d been wrong. Oh, so wrong. Those soft moans as she touched him and tasted him had driven her exploration deeper until the tables had turned and it was he who was pushing her closer to the brink of some unknown cliff. Soft sighs turned to moans, he was making her body sing and ache and driving her closer.
Questions about how they would fit together, intertwining were lost. Somewhere along this she’d lost possession of herself to his touches. She was there with him every step, unable to resist finding out how this story ended. She’d been right about him. He was attuned to even the slightest of signals from her, her body tensing at the foreign feelings. His movements pausing, coaxing her to relax under him… soothing her with touches like might be done for a skittish horse. Each caress from him lessened the discomfort until it had disappeared and she was once again arching up to his touches. He’d played her body like some sort of puppet master pulling from her a release that left her trembling and completely uncertain of everything she’d ever thought she’d known about the world.
Her body was spent and even if she’d wanted too… Evangelina wasn’t certain her legs would have held her weight had she wanted to stand up. She didn’t want to though, so that was a blessing. Curling into the warmth of his body, inhaling the smell of him, she wasn’t certain how she’d ever be able to sleep in her bed again without him. A deep, relaxing sleep swept over her in a way she wasn’t certain it had in a long time, if ever.
Evangelina wasn’t certain how long she’d slept, but consciousness seemed to seep back in as the warm body next to her stirred ever so slightly against her and memories of touches and kisses warmed her from the inside out. The quiet of the room was as comforting as the darkness, the combination generating the smallest of sighs escaped her. Was this what it was to be happy?
He shifted against, tilting his head down to look at her and her eyelashes raised up as she looked sleepily up at him. She could barely trace the lines of his face, but it was enough for a faint smile to form on her lips.
“Hello.” Warm, throaty… there wasn’t any way her voice could hide how they’d spent the evening, tipping her head down, she pressed a small kiss to his chest.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The world outside of this room could wait, the only thing that mattered was the gentle caresses that tied her insides into knots and the way his stormy gaze heated with that delicious aching need for her. His fingers tangled gently in her hair, unraveling her at the seams until the last bits of the person she’d never been certain of was gone leaving her bare and raw, naked in every sense of the word to him. Letting him guide her to the bed, she had a moment of hesitation as the mattress sunk a little at their weight but the hesitation was gone with the soft exhale as she fell into the soft curiosities of the unknown.
She took her time exploring first with the fingertips and then her lips as his clothing fell from him. Evangelina reveled in learning the curves and angles of his body as if it might have been her last opportunity. Until that moment, she’d never thought she’d heard anything more marvelous than his deep, delicious laugh, but she’d been wrong. Oh, so wrong. Those soft moans as she touched him and tasted him had driven her exploration deeper until the tables had turned and it was he who was pushing her closer to the brink of some unknown cliff. Soft sighs turned to moans, he was making her body sing and ache and driving her closer.
Questions about how they would fit together, intertwining were lost. Somewhere along this she’d lost possession of herself to his touches. She was there with him every step, unable to resist finding out how this story ended. She’d been right about him. He was attuned to even the slightest of signals from her, her body tensing at the foreign feelings. His movements pausing, coaxing her to relax under him… soothing her with touches like might be done for a skittish horse. Each caress from him lessened the discomfort until it had disappeared and she was once again arching up to his touches. He’d played her body like some sort of puppet master pulling from her a release that left her trembling and completely uncertain of everything she’d ever thought she’d known about the world.
Her body was spent and even if she’d wanted too… Evangelina wasn’t certain her legs would have held her weight had she wanted to stand up. She didn’t want to though, so that was a blessing. Curling into the warmth of his body, inhaling the smell of him, she wasn’t certain how she’d ever be able to sleep in her bed again without him. A deep, relaxing sleep swept over her in a way she wasn’t certain it had in a long time, if ever.
Evangelina wasn’t certain how long she’d slept, but consciousness seemed to seep back in as the warm body next to her stirred ever so slightly against her and memories of touches and kisses warmed her from the inside out. The quiet of the room was as comforting as the darkness, the combination generating the smallest of sighs escaped her. Was this what it was to be happy?
He shifted against, tilting his head down to look at her and her eyelashes raised up as she looked sleepily up at him. She could barely trace the lines of his face, but it was enough for a faint smile to form on her lips.
“Hello.” Warm, throaty… there wasn’t any way her voice could hide how they’d spent the evening, tipping her head down, she pressed a small kiss to his chest.
The world outside of this room could wait, the only thing that mattered was the gentle caresses that tied her insides into knots and the way his stormy gaze heated with that delicious aching need for her. His fingers tangled gently in her hair, unraveling her at the seams until the last bits of the person she’d never been certain of was gone leaving her bare and raw, naked in every sense of the word to him. Letting him guide her to the bed, she had a moment of hesitation as the mattress sunk a little at their weight but the hesitation was gone with the soft exhale as she fell into the soft curiosities of the unknown.
She took her time exploring first with the fingertips and then her lips as his clothing fell from him. Evangelina reveled in learning the curves and angles of his body as if it might have been her last opportunity. Until that moment, she’d never thought she’d heard anything more marvelous than his deep, delicious laugh, but she’d been wrong. Oh, so wrong. Those soft moans as she touched him and tasted him had driven her exploration deeper until the tables had turned and it was he who was pushing her closer to the brink of some unknown cliff. Soft sighs turned to moans, he was making her body sing and ache and driving her closer.
Questions about how they would fit together, intertwining were lost. Somewhere along this she’d lost possession of herself to his touches. She was there with him every step, unable to resist finding out how this story ended. She’d been right about him. He was attuned to even the slightest of signals from her, her body tensing at the foreign feelings. His movements pausing, coaxing her to relax under him… soothing her with touches like might be done for a skittish horse. Each caress from him lessened the discomfort until it had disappeared and she was once again arching up to his touches. He’d played her body like some sort of puppet master pulling from her a release that left her trembling and completely uncertain of everything she’d ever thought she’d known about the world.
Her body was spent and even if she’d wanted too… Evangelina wasn’t certain her legs would have held her weight had she wanted to stand up. She didn’t want to though, so that was a blessing. Curling into the warmth of his body, inhaling the smell of him, she wasn’t certain how she’d ever be able to sleep in her bed again without him. A deep, relaxing sleep swept over her in a way she wasn’t certain it had in a long time, if ever.
Evangelina wasn’t certain how long she’d slept, but consciousness seemed to seep back in as the warm body next to her stirred ever so slightly against her and memories of touches and kisses warmed her from the inside out. The quiet of the room was as comforting as the darkness, the combination generating the smallest of sighs escaped her. Was this what it was to be happy?
He shifted against, tilting his head down to look at her and her eyelashes raised up as she looked sleepily up at him. She could barely trace the lines of his face, but it was enough for a faint smile to form on her lips.
“Hello.” Warm, throaty… there wasn’t any way her voice could hide how they’d spent the evening, tipping her head down, she pressed a small kiss to his chest.
She might already have been awake. There was a faint sigh but his movement definitely stirred her to look up at him. There was enough light from the embers of the fireplace to give her dark eyes a spark of glitter as they searched his face. “Hello,” she murmured and kissed his chest. The hand that had been draped loosely on her hip came up, threading fingers through the rumpled locks of her hair. A smile ghosted his lips but faded as he looked down at the top of her head.
“Hello,” he echoed. If he was less sure of her, he’d have asked something like are you alright? But he didn’t. Her body was completely relaxed, the small token of affection she’d just bestowed all the evidence he needed to know that she was content. He wasn’t. He didn’t want to give her back to her uncle’s house. Not now. Earlier this evening, the way things stood previously, she more belonged within the confines of the Leventi manor, escaping whenever she felt the need. Here, with their bond cemented in every way but law, she really shouldn’t have had to leave. Perhaps if she was the daughter of a merchant or, like his late wife, the daughter of a farmer, he wouldn’t have sent her back. It would raise her station to stay here. But she wasn’t. She would not be ruined, but she would be gossiped about and that was a different matter entirely. He could withstand the rumors the way a tree remains undisturbed by pithy winds, but he didn’t want her to have to go through a trial by fire like that.
Shifting so that he was sitting up, he drew his palm along the smooth, lovely curve of her back. “Will you come tomorrow afternoon?” he asked in a low rumble. His gaze moved away from her then and towards the door, wondering if he would need to gather her things from the hallway, but was only mildly surprised to see her clothes and sandals folded neatly on the small table by the door. Sometime in the night, while they’d slept, a well intentioned servant had gathered her effects and placed them there. The news would be all over Vasiliadon very soon, he realized. There was no hiding, and while he might have wished to keep this quiet, there was no real way to do so. The only reason this would be rumor worthy was because people were so used to his reputation as widower. It was a comfortable mantle he’d worn for a long time.
This character is currently a work in progress.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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She might already have been awake. There was a faint sigh but his movement definitely stirred her to look up at him. There was enough light from the embers of the fireplace to give her dark eyes a spark of glitter as they searched his face. “Hello,” she murmured and kissed his chest. The hand that had been draped loosely on her hip came up, threading fingers through the rumpled locks of her hair. A smile ghosted his lips but faded as he looked down at the top of her head.
“Hello,” he echoed. If he was less sure of her, he’d have asked something like are you alright? But he didn’t. Her body was completely relaxed, the small token of affection she’d just bestowed all the evidence he needed to know that she was content. He wasn’t. He didn’t want to give her back to her uncle’s house. Not now. Earlier this evening, the way things stood previously, she more belonged within the confines of the Leventi manor, escaping whenever she felt the need. Here, with their bond cemented in every way but law, she really shouldn’t have had to leave. Perhaps if she was the daughter of a merchant or, like his late wife, the daughter of a farmer, he wouldn’t have sent her back. It would raise her station to stay here. But she wasn’t. She would not be ruined, but she would be gossiped about and that was a different matter entirely. He could withstand the rumors the way a tree remains undisturbed by pithy winds, but he didn’t want her to have to go through a trial by fire like that.
Shifting so that he was sitting up, he drew his palm along the smooth, lovely curve of her back. “Will you come tomorrow afternoon?” he asked in a low rumble. His gaze moved away from her then and towards the door, wondering if he would need to gather her things from the hallway, but was only mildly surprised to see her clothes and sandals folded neatly on the small table by the door. Sometime in the night, while they’d slept, a well intentioned servant had gathered her effects and placed them there. The news would be all over Vasiliadon very soon, he realized. There was no hiding, and while he might have wished to keep this quiet, there was no real way to do so. The only reason this would be rumor worthy was because people were so used to his reputation as widower. It was a comfortable mantle he’d worn for a long time.
She might already have been awake. There was a faint sigh but his movement definitely stirred her to look up at him. There was enough light from the embers of the fireplace to give her dark eyes a spark of glitter as they searched his face. “Hello,” she murmured and kissed his chest. The hand that had been draped loosely on her hip came up, threading fingers through the rumpled locks of her hair. A smile ghosted his lips but faded as he looked down at the top of her head.
“Hello,” he echoed. If he was less sure of her, he’d have asked something like are you alright? But he didn’t. Her body was completely relaxed, the small token of affection she’d just bestowed all the evidence he needed to know that she was content. He wasn’t. He didn’t want to give her back to her uncle’s house. Not now. Earlier this evening, the way things stood previously, she more belonged within the confines of the Leventi manor, escaping whenever she felt the need. Here, with their bond cemented in every way but law, she really shouldn’t have had to leave. Perhaps if she was the daughter of a merchant or, like his late wife, the daughter of a farmer, he wouldn’t have sent her back. It would raise her station to stay here. But she wasn’t. She would not be ruined, but she would be gossiped about and that was a different matter entirely. He could withstand the rumors the way a tree remains undisturbed by pithy winds, but he didn’t want her to have to go through a trial by fire like that.
Shifting so that he was sitting up, he drew his palm along the smooth, lovely curve of her back. “Will you come tomorrow afternoon?” he asked in a low rumble. His gaze moved away from her then and towards the door, wondering if he would need to gather her things from the hallway, but was only mildly surprised to see her clothes and sandals folded neatly on the small table by the door. Sometime in the night, while they’d slept, a well intentioned servant had gathered her effects and placed them there. The news would be all over Vasiliadon very soon, he realized. There was no hiding, and while he might have wished to keep this quiet, there was no real way to do so. The only reason this would be rumor worthy was because people were so used to his reputation as widower. It was a comfortable mantle he’d worn for a long time.
The hush in the room was broken only by the crackling of the fire in the fireplace. The flames had devoured the logs already but it still smoldered gently, flickering embers of warmth and casting a soft shadow across the darkness of the room. Still tangled flesh against flesh against the body next to her, Evangelina stared at the shadows as they danced across the walls opposite of her. Something had changed within her, there had been a subtle shift in her. It hadn’t been when she’d lost something she’d never be able to have back, but rather there in a moment when Gavriil had looked down at her in the hallway. Something in that moment when his gaze had met hers and she had entrusted him with every tiny bit of herself. She’d shifted and instead of feeling even more flawed, Evangelina felt complete.
His hand skimmed up her hip to corded through her rumpled chestnut hair sending a flare of warmth up her spine. ‘Hello.’ Was it her imagination or was there just a little bit more depth to his gravelly voice. Soothingly, her fingers faintly stroked him, tenderly trailing up the length of his side and then back down similarly. How easy it would be to hide there in his arms and bury her nose into that indent of his collarbone… He shifted, compelling her to shift and give him enough room to sit up before she curled her soft warm body back up against him. His palm on the small of her back was enough encouragement to relax against him again and elicit a small hum from her throat.
‘Will you come tomorrow afternoon?’ His deep voice rippled through the silence again with his odd question.
Tilting her head, she pressed her face gently against his skin and took a deep breath as she pondered over whether or not she was coming back tomorrow afternoon or not. Raising up, she shifted away from him so that she could gently straddle his hips. The sheet shifted away, shadows shifted over her from the fireplace behind her. It also conveniently filled his view with something other than the fireplace and the wall. With her knees resting on each side of his hips, her hands captured his as she entwined her fingers in his.
“If you want me to,” She looked up from beneath her thick lashes to meet his gaze. She would if he wanted her too, she wasn’t sure what he wanted from her though. It wasn’t exactly like they’d had some sort of plan for how all of this would work. Her fingers tightened on his hand and she shifted her hips as she leaned forward a little and leaned down to press a kiss to his chest. Smiling softly, “You make me quite happy.”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The hush in the room was broken only by the crackling of the fire in the fireplace. The flames had devoured the logs already but it still smoldered gently, flickering embers of warmth and casting a soft shadow across the darkness of the room. Still tangled flesh against flesh against the body next to her, Evangelina stared at the shadows as they danced across the walls opposite of her. Something had changed within her, there had been a subtle shift in her. It hadn’t been when she’d lost something she’d never be able to have back, but rather there in a moment when Gavriil had looked down at her in the hallway. Something in that moment when his gaze had met hers and she had entrusted him with every tiny bit of herself. She’d shifted and instead of feeling even more flawed, Evangelina felt complete.
His hand skimmed up her hip to corded through her rumpled chestnut hair sending a flare of warmth up her spine. ‘Hello.’ Was it her imagination or was there just a little bit more depth to his gravelly voice. Soothingly, her fingers faintly stroked him, tenderly trailing up the length of his side and then back down similarly. How easy it would be to hide there in his arms and bury her nose into that indent of his collarbone… He shifted, compelling her to shift and give him enough room to sit up before she curled her soft warm body back up against him. His palm on the small of her back was enough encouragement to relax against him again and elicit a small hum from her throat.
‘Will you come tomorrow afternoon?’ His deep voice rippled through the silence again with his odd question.
Tilting her head, she pressed her face gently against his skin and took a deep breath as she pondered over whether or not she was coming back tomorrow afternoon or not. Raising up, she shifted away from him so that she could gently straddle his hips. The sheet shifted away, shadows shifted over her from the fireplace behind her. It also conveniently filled his view with something other than the fireplace and the wall. With her knees resting on each side of his hips, her hands captured his as she entwined her fingers in his.
“If you want me to,” She looked up from beneath her thick lashes to meet his gaze. She would if he wanted her too, she wasn’t sure what he wanted from her though. It wasn’t exactly like they’d had some sort of plan for how all of this would work. Her fingers tightened on his hand and she shifted her hips as she leaned forward a little and leaned down to press a kiss to his chest. Smiling softly, “You make me quite happy.”
The hush in the room was broken only by the crackling of the fire in the fireplace. The flames had devoured the logs already but it still smoldered gently, flickering embers of warmth and casting a soft shadow across the darkness of the room. Still tangled flesh against flesh against the body next to her, Evangelina stared at the shadows as they danced across the walls opposite of her. Something had changed within her, there had been a subtle shift in her. It hadn’t been when she’d lost something she’d never be able to have back, but rather there in a moment when Gavriil had looked down at her in the hallway. Something in that moment when his gaze had met hers and she had entrusted him with every tiny bit of herself. She’d shifted and instead of feeling even more flawed, Evangelina felt complete.
His hand skimmed up her hip to corded through her rumpled chestnut hair sending a flare of warmth up her spine. ‘Hello.’ Was it her imagination or was there just a little bit more depth to his gravelly voice. Soothingly, her fingers faintly stroked him, tenderly trailing up the length of his side and then back down similarly. How easy it would be to hide there in his arms and bury her nose into that indent of his collarbone… He shifted, compelling her to shift and give him enough room to sit up before she curled her soft warm body back up against him. His palm on the small of her back was enough encouragement to relax against him again and elicit a small hum from her throat.
‘Will you come tomorrow afternoon?’ His deep voice rippled through the silence again with his odd question.
Tilting her head, she pressed her face gently against his skin and took a deep breath as she pondered over whether or not she was coming back tomorrow afternoon or not. Raising up, she shifted away from him so that she could gently straddle his hips. The sheet shifted away, shadows shifted over her from the fireplace behind her. It also conveniently filled his view with something other than the fireplace and the wall. With her knees resting on each side of his hips, her hands captured his as she entwined her fingers in his.
“If you want me to,” She looked up from beneath her thick lashes to meet his gaze. She would if he wanted her too, she wasn’t sure what he wanted from her though. It wasn’t exactly like they’d had some sort of plan for how all of this would work. Her fingers tightened on his hand and she shifted her hips as she leaned forward a little and leaned down to press a kiss to his chest. Smiling softly, “You make me quite happy.”
“You make me quite happy,” she said as she leaned down to place another kiss against his chest. Gavriil used his hold in her hair to lift her head so that she had to come up to his lips. His answer to her statement was to press his lips to hers, his arm sliding around her waist, keeping her against him. They stayed like that for quite some time, keeping the world at bay a little longer. That his question was odd to her still signified that she did not trust where this was going. He had no intention of leaving her in doubt as to where things stood. That meant more time spent here; not less. But he could not read her thoughts and did not know she still had lingering misapprehensions. Whatever the case, it did not impact them as she entirely wiped away his will to leave the room at that precise moment.
When the sky outside lightened to watery slate, he could no longer put off taking her home. Not that it wouldn’t soon be remedied, but he didn’t want either of them subjected to too much scandal. Sliding out from beneath her, he dressed without his usual care but did stop at his wardrobe for a himation of the middle gray. It would ward off the morning’s faint chill and lend a bit of shadow should they need it. Once she was dressed, he opened the door to his room and found the hallway dark, the lamps unlit as yet, and walked out into the dim corridor, ushering her in front of him.
There was really no one to run into, save for servants and the task of walking out of the house was as simple as that. They descended the stairs, crossed back through the cleared dining room, through the short meandering halls, and out into the morning’s open air. Rather than walk the entire way, he elected to take one of the horses, trusting that she wouldn’t mind riding bareback. He didn’t want to take even the few minutes it would take to properly saddle the animal. None of it was particularly rushed, but all of it was done with the intention of not being seen. He wasn’t ashamed in the least of what had happened, and what would happen again, but it was the talk, for her sake, as well as for his own annoyance, that he wanted to avoid.
He mounted first with her slipping up behind him and away they went through the gates. The houses were close but the ride took longer than usual, with Gavriil keeping the horse’s pace intentionally slow to avoid unnecessary sound. At her family’s gates, he kept his seat while she dismounted. He reached down for her hand, held it for a few moments, then bid her farewell. There were vague plans to meet later in the afternoon and as he rode home, he was a little surprised to find the world hadn’t exploded or shattered or changed to some rosy hue. Changes were like that. It was the buildup that seemed frightening or overlarge but afterwards, the world kept spinning, heedless of personal triumphs or upheavals. That was comforting, in a way. He’d found that to be true many times. When his first wife had slipped away, leaving him with a wailing infant daughter and two grieving children, even when he’d felt like his heart might shred into a thousand pieces, it hadn’t. Life kept right on going.
Though, for the first time in a long time, the tendrils of unsaid fears wrapped around his insides like the slow, creeping vines of ivy that grew over his gates. What if the same thing happened twice? Drawing in a deliberately steadying breath, Gavriil turned his thoughts to more practical matters, by not going home at all. He kept riding past the Archontiko and into Vasiliadon proper as the sun finally made its appearance on the horizon in a brilliant crescent of gold. Today was no day for paperwork. It was a day to simply live.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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“You make me quite happy,” she said as she leaned down to place another kiss against his chest. Gavriil used his hold in her hair to lift her head so that she had to come up to his lips. His answer to her statement was to press his lips to hers, his arm sliding around her waist, keeping her against him. They stayed like that for quite some time, keeping the world at bay a little longer. That his question was odd to her still signified that she did not trust where this was going. He had no intention of leaving her in doubt as to where things stood. That meant more time spent here; not less. But he could not read her thoughts and did not know she still had lingering misapprehensions. Whatever the case, it did not impact them as she entirely wiped away his will to leave the room at that precise moment.
When the sky outside lightened to watery slate, he could no longer put off taking her home. Not that it wouldn’t soon be remedied, but he didn’t want either of them subjected to too much scandal. Sliding out from beneath her, he dressed without his usual care but did stop at his wardrobe for a himation of the middle gray. It would ward off the morning’s faint chill and lend a bit of shadow should they need it. Once she was dressed, he opened the door to his room and found the hallway dark, the lamps unlit as yet, and walked out into the dim corridor, ushering her in front of him.
There was really no one to run into, save for servants and the task of walking out of the house was as simple as that. They descended the stairs, crossed back through the cleared dining room, through the short meandering halls, and out into the morning’s open air. Rather than walk the entire way, he elected to take one of the horses, trusting that she wouldn’t mind riding bareback. He didn’t want to take even the few minutes it would take to properly saddle the animal. None of it was particularly rushed, but all of it was done with the intention of not being seen. He wasn’t ashamed in the least of what had happened, and what would happen again, but it was the talk, for her sake, as well as for his own annoyance, that he wanted to avoid.
He mounted first with her slipping up behind him and away they went through the gates. The houses were close but the ride took longer than usual, with Gavriil keeping the horse’s pace intentionally slow to avoid unnecessary sound. At her family’s gates, he kept his seat while she dismounted. He reached down for her hand, held it for a few moments, then bid her farewell. There were vague plans to meet later in the afternoon and as he rode home, he was a little surprised to find the world hadn’t exploded or shattered or changed to some rosy hue. Changes were like that. It was the buildup that seemed frightening or overlarge but afterwards, the world kept spinning, heedless of personal triumphs or upheavals. That was comforting, in a way. He’d found that to be true many times. When his first wife had slipped away, leaving him with a wailing infant daughter and two grieving children, even when he’d felt like his heart might shred into a thousand pieces, it hadn’t. Life kept right on going.
Though, for the first time in a long time, the tendrils of unsaid fears wrapped around his insides like the slow, creeping vines of ivy that grew over his gates. What if the same thing happened twice? Drawing in a deliberately steadying breath, Gavriil turned his thoughts to more practical matters, by not going home at all. He kept riding past the Archontiko and into Vasiliadon proper as the sun finally made its appearance on the horizon in a brilliant crescent of gold. Today was no day for paperwork. It was a day to simply live.
“You make me quite happy,” she said as she leaned down to place another kiss against his chest. Gavriil used his hold in her hair to lift her head so that she had to come up to his lips. His answer to her statement was to press his lips to hers, his arm sliding around her waist, keeping her against him. They stayed like that for quite some time, keeping the world at bay a little longer. That his question was odd to her still signified that she did not trust where this was going. He had no intention of leaving her in doubt as to where things stood. That meant more time spent here; not less. But he could not read her thoughts and did not know she still had lingering misapprehensions. Whatever the case, it did not impact them as she entirely wiped away his will to leave the room at that precise moment.
When the sky outside lightened to watery slate, he could no longer put off taking her home. Not that it wouldn’t soon be remedied, but he didn’t want either of them subjected to too much scandal. Sliding out from beneath her, he dressed without his usual care but did stop at his wardrobe for a himation of the middle gray. It would ward off the morning’s faint chill and lend a bit of shadow should they need it. Once she was dressed, he opened the door to his room and found the hallway dark, the lamps unlit as yet, and walked out into the dim corridor, ushering her in front of him.
There was really no one to run into, save for servants and the task of walking out of the house was as simple as that. They descended the stairs, crossed back through the cleared dining room, through the short meandering halls, and out into the morning’s open air. Rather than walk the entire way, he elected to take one of the horses, trusting that she wouldn’t mind riding bareback. He didn’t want to take even the few minutes it would take to properly saddle the animal. None of it was particularly rushed, but all of it was done with the intention of not being seen. He wasn’t ashamed in the least of what had happened, and what would happen again, but it was the talk, for her sake, as well as for his own annoyance, that he wanted to avoid.
He mounted first with her slipping up behind him and away they went through the gates. The houses were close but the ride took longer than usual, with Gavriil keeping the horse’s pace intentionally slow to avoid unnecessary sound. At her family’s gates, he kept his seat while she dismounted. He reached down for her hand, held it for a few moments, then bid her farewell. There were vague plans to meet later in the afternoon and as he rode home, he was a little surprised to find the world hadn’t exploded or shattered or changed to some rosy hue. Changes were like that. It was the buildup that seemed frightening or overlarge but afterwards, the world kept spinning, heedless of personal triumphs or upheavals. That was comforting, in a way. He’d found that to be true many times. When his first wife had slipped away, leaving him with a wailing infant daughter and two grieving children, even when he’d felt like his heart might shred into a thousand pieces, it hadn’t. Life kept right on going.
Though, for the first time in a long time, the tendrils of unsaid fears wrapped around his insides like the slow, creeping vines of ivy that grew over his gates. What if the same thing happened twice? Drawing in a deliberately steadying breath, Gavriil turned his thoughts to more practical matters, by not going home at all. He kept riding past the Archontiko and into Vasiliadon proper as the sun finally made its appearance on the horizon in a brilliant crescent of gold. Today was no day for paperwork. It was a day to simply live.