Jane’s relationship with her husband was a curious, unnamed thing. He was ten years her senior, a veteran of combat with a good rank among the court. He was also a widower, having lost his beloved Isador four years before. He was a strange creature, two hands taller than Jane but more interested in his studies than he ever was in Jane. Battles with other clans had left the sergeant with a noticeable limp and a broad scar that stretched from the centre of his forehead to the corner of his mouth. This was not the only scar, but it was the most noticeable.
Oh, and the sterility.
That was an important one.
In one of the former battles, against a small nation of insurgents who called themselves the Starlets, he had been captured and promptly castrated. His bloodline and his pride stolen, Isaar had returned to the Angora as a shadow of his former self. He had returned widowed, lonely, and broken.
How had Jane come to marry this man, you may be asking. She had certainly asked herself that question many a sleepless night.
The truth was that Jane’s ranking had completely tanked after her exile from Angora. It had not helped when her aunt and uncle had kicked her out of their house in Solterra. Months of living among the supposed filth and squalor of the lower Day Court had unalterably tainted her with unlearnedness and brashness. She had become used to the feeling of an empty stomach, to the gnawing of hunger that bit against all of those soft layers of woman that they had been training to become.
Hunger had blackened her sight and made her bloodthirsty after the offer of return from her mother. General Isaar was looking for a wife, a pretty young wife who he could spoil and make rich. And what would you know it, Jane had been mentioned and her portrait had been shown.
You can help our family, darling. Jane knew that she had embarrassed her family. Indeed, how could she not know.
Later, Jane would feel ashamed at how quickly she had left everyone. Her farewells had not been many, only reserved for Veil as well as the assurance that she would send back gifts and money. She hadn’t. She had been so hungry.
Jane was married on the second day after her arrival, when her figure was still full and beautiful. She had worn jewels, and gone in peace to the side of her new husband. She had known him when she was yet a filly; had known him as a stern yet fair stallion who was deeply in love with his young wife. Isaar had not known Jane. He had not laid with her on their wedding night, nor any night that followed- there had been no point, after all.
The only thing he had done was come to Jane’s chambers, where she sat with her new maid, and whispered Thank you for this, before leaving her to her solitude. What a queer fellow, the maid had said to her lady. Jane was inclined to agree.
And now she was in Delumine. What a name, the soft taste of possession on the tongue. Delumine, Delu mine, my Delu. Jane hummed to herself as she passed a stall of pastries. Sugar burnt the edge of her nostrils; not the catered pastries of court but the lovemade creations of the horses who wanted to show their crafts or gain money. The fact that she had been one of them, for a short time, was nothing short of impossible.
She had been with Sol Bestiam here. The reds had touched her flank and she had woken up in his home. She had laughed and flirted and been good, so good for him. So wickedly good. Not like now, where she was just… good.
Jane smiled, but there was no joy in it as she stood among the field of poppies with the scent of winter still cloying behind her.
jealousy, turning saints into the sea
swimming through sick lullabies, chocking on your alibis
but it's just the price i pay, destiny is calling me
open up my eager eyes, 'cause i'm mr. brightside
The man moved smoothly through the festival, hooves pressing into the ground with each powerful step as he stood tall, but his expression largely masked by the leather guard over his face. His antlers gleamed, sharpened to points as a man of battle; as useful as the weapon at his side. His ears twitch, catching sounds, children laughing, such youth and innocence . . . and peace. He's momentarily jealous. When was the last time the people of his home realm able to just exist like this. To laugh, and feel comfortable in celebration. To not be afraid to say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing - and be branded a magic user. Always on guard. Always watching . . . waiting for a traitor to cast them out.
It tears at his heart, the part that needs to return, to defend, to take the king from his thrown and see a new royal step up, do right by the people. But there's a part that doesn't want to return. To not feel the stress of that power. That fears he'll be pushed into the thrown instead. More weight, more power, more expectation. How long until he crumbles, he folds, he becomes what he doesn't want to be? How can he be sure he isn't that already. Corrupted, a monster waiting to pounce. He had seen the twins disappear, and instead of letting them go he had followed them -
But they were his, his doves, his soldiers, it was only to be expected he would follow, would search for them, bring them back as was their duty, their obligation . . . He HAD to follow them. Because THEY ABANDONED HIM. And their cause, and everything they were trying to do right. He didn't want to think about this. He didn't want to ponder on the righteousness of his cause, willingly hiding himself away from the truths he refused to accept about his own state of being.
Instead he painted on a smirk, so subtle, so soft it caught a few eyes already. Corded locks, twisted tight and piled behind his gleaming horns, pelt rippling with heath and shine, as he moves smoothly through the area. His ears flick forward, his gaze pausing briefly on the oddly hued mare who seemed to smile with out emotion. Curiosity ripples through him, and he approaches with out hesitation, as if it was his right to go wherever he sought, "It's been some time since I've seen such a void smile. What troubles you, miss; that even your smile could make the sky cry for you?" He asked before bowing his head, his muzzle twisting into a smile with ease, effortless, falling into the mold of the knight that fit so well still, that still defined who he was at the core, "My name is Vreis, miss. Perhaps I could keep you company for a bit . . . if nothing else, help encourage you to find your smile. I imagine it would be prettier than any spring day."
"Speech" Thoughts
@Jane Notes: Still figuring out much of his personality :D
In a remote corner of the main square, Jane observed what had sprung up around here. A lifetime ago, it seemed, she had been a nomadic young nymph with dreams and hopes. She had flirted with a stallion, she had tasted at poppies and at the quick joys of youthful pleasure and had then gone home to the Veil Nebula and made coffee. How sweet and soft it all was, that life of dreams. When she thought of that apartment, bitter as it was, she now associated it with the soft scent of friendship, with the sense that she was doing something greater than what she really was.
It had been a reprieve from mediocrity, of course. In the end, family had pulled through and had demanded her return. She had slipped back into the family for only a night, upon which she had observed the family’s relationship to the new blessed son that they had gained in Jane’s absence. Little attention had been paid to her save for wedding preparations, and it had been nearly comforting to go into the solitude of her husband’s home.
She wondered if he was close, her husband, or if he were far away. If he had bounded off the ship with the scent of knowledge. Isaar had hated Argona in the end, although he had never said it. Mentions of politics, even glances at the soil outside their home had led to a shivering sadness that had passed through the gelding’s body and left Jane feeling hollow. He had not even asked her about her desire to leave before he had announced their imminent departure. Jane, we will be leaving next week. Please, be not angry, it had to be done. We will be going to Novus.
Oh, that name. That name. Novus, the place that had housed her for a year and that had watched her grow into a pseudo-woman before she had ruined it all. Not the Day Court this time but the Dawn Court, where she would own not a small apartment but a manor house in the main street. The type of house that ambassadors owned.
Jane watched quietly as a young filly cantered alongside another young creature. She could hear the young thing’s yells and laughter, so utterly unaware of anything that could bring pain. Stop, Jane nearly had the instinct to call, Stop, you don’t know what you have right now! Please, please cling to it.
She was still deep in thought when the antlered man spoke. The words shocked her from her stupor and she spun, almost surprised that he had seen her. Was I really visible, all that time?She pulled herself together and registered the presence of a grulla stallion with an impressive set of brown antlers. Between them hung a face guard, clearly marking him as some sort of stallion. Jane thought remotely of Isaar, that poor little sliver of a veteran, and smiled wryly at the intruder.
“You are mocking me,” Jane said slowly, measuring her words as they escaped. “I need no company, my husband is but a few streets away.” Still, Jane did not move away from the stallion. She had not been approached by anyone other than her interaction with Veil, a situation that still sat like a burning coal inside her chest. The pain of it, of all of it, was so solid and real, that she paused quite suddenly in her tracks and turned her gaze fully upon the stallion.
A right charmer, the type of stallion that ruined a life and prided himself on the destruction. The type of stallion that Jane would never even spare a second glance on, knowing her own self-worth. But what self-worth was there now, anyway? And he was looking at her, which meant that- that just for a moment, Jane was real and existing at the same time as another. “My name is Jane. Jane Argon.”
@[Vreis] / speaks jane obv doesn't know his personality, she's just judgy lmao. trying to be smart
02-23-2022, 07:43 PM - This post was last modified: 02-23-2022, 07:46 PM by Jane
jealousy, turning saints into the sea
swimming through sick lullabies, chocking on your alibis
but it's just the price i pay, destiny is calling me
open up my eager eyes, 'cause i'm mr. brightside
The beast is already watching, observing the mare. But where one side of his brain is coining all of her mannerisms, seeing what he can use, what he can exploit, the other is staring at her with a touch of concern to his features. He hadn't approached her just because she was striking (which she was), but also in large part because there was something about her presentation that felt . . . empty, neglected, like she had stopped really caring about herself long, long ago. She spins towards her, and he realizes then that she had been caught off guard. What has her so distracted, is she alright? Thought the valiant knight, A distracted mare is an easily manipulated mare Thought the cold hearted rebel leader.
Whether the knight, or the leader, both were content with observing, interacting with the mare further. She stares him down, seeming to be judging him in that moment. It's instinctive, the stallion drawing himself to full height, his antlers gleaming, his body powerful, showing off the muscles in his military stance, a stance that speaks of power, of leadership, a stance not just meant to impress, but meant to impose. Her wry smile had the manipulative rebel leader settling heavily onto the stallion's mind as he crooks a grin at her, "If I've misstepped, I apologize, but I made no attempts to mock." He corrects with a gentle shake of his head, before eyeing her quizzically, "Why would your husband stray away from your side. Were you my wife, I'd be parading you down the streets, showing you off to every vendor and shopper around, and ensuring they knew you were off limits as well." He chuckles here, shaking his head, "I apologize, that's not proper to say to a married woman, I've spent too many years at the forefront of battles, clearly. I've forgotten my manners among Civies."
The antlered man shakes his head, chuckling to himself, before he glances back up at her with an easy smile, the knightly beast he was at his core shining through those honest dark eyes, She gives her name, Jane, Jane Argon and he dips his head, regally; "It's a pleasure to meet you Lady Argon." He states, before playfully winking at her, keeping his general mood and countenance light and easy-going, "Jane, meaning God is Gracious. I'd definitely say they're rather gracious for allowing me to meet you." When was the last time he could carefree flirt like this? He didn't remember . . . but it didn't stop him from enjoying it already.
"Speech" Thoughts
@Jane Notes: Still figuring out much of his personality :D
Jane looked out over the swathe of people. The children, lovers, enemies. All were so much more permanent than she was. She slid her gaze patiently over the fairgoers, as though waiting for something. She didn’t know what there was to wait for, because what future did she have anyway? No children, she was as little worth as the stone that lays by the wayside.
The stranger surprised her, mainly in the fact that he had managed to surprise her at all. She was so aware of the scenery around her and so focused on the world that it seemed impossible that such a large stallion could slip past her awareness. He managed, even, to be taller than herself. He was the very letter of imposing, despite the smile that snaked across her lips. No doubt he saw her loneliness, had seen her very invisibility that had made her so self-conscious. She was vulnerable, she was sad, and she was-
She could leave, if she wanted. If Jane became afraid, she could easily seek out her husband. But what was there to do? She looked at him slowly, as though trying to parse out his very core, past the marbled exterior that he bore. He was a beautiful stallion, that much was certain. A charlatan, the stallion reacted to Jane’s analysis by pulling himself up to his full height. 20 hands at least, to Jane’s 19. She had seen the type of smile that he wore, was no stranger to military colts. Hell, she was married to one.
Jane’s golden eyes slid to his grin. She tilted her chin slightly. “My husband has business here, he’s… meeting with someone.” She didn’t know what Isaar did with this time. He could very well be meeting a Deluminian, or he could be ducking his head into a pint. What difference did it make. “You’re right, that isn’t what you say to a married woman. And as for your wartime manners, I know many of your situation who would never dare say that to a married woman.” Her voice was amused even as her gaze attempted to pierce his exterior.
Still, still, the stallion continued to flirt despite his awareness of the situation. The gall. Jane actually scoffed beneath her breath, watching the antics of the mischievous stallion. “I would say it was a pleasure to meet you as well, if you were a little bit subtler with your intentions.” Jane actually grinned as she said so, her gaze boring into the stallion’s. Dark eyes stared out from a faceguard of leather. He looked like a musketeer in the novels that Jane had read as a girl. “And your name?”
jealousy, turning saints into the sea
swimming through sick lullabies, chocking on your alibis
but it's just the price i pay, destiny is calling me
open up my eager eyes, 'cause i'm mr. brightside
She seemed to be determined to cast him into the role of the bad guy. One part of him was eager to play that role. To sink his teeth in so deep, she forgot her own name and fell victim to his power, his dominance, his control. But the other part of him, the part that curbed the majority of these temptations until his anger was struck kept his tone softer, kept his actions and impulses pure. So even as he stood to attention, even as he shifted to let her gaze, saw that smile, it was less out of a need to be imposing, and more out of instinct when being looked over. Stand to attention, hold proud, let them see no weakness.
She didn't run, however, instead she tilted her head, declaring her husband had business, what meeting with someone, and calling him out for not saying such things to a married woman, going so far as to declare no one would dare say such things to a married woman. Her tone was amused, even as her gaze attempted to drill into him. He merely grinned, a charming smile, a playful look in onyx eyes, "Perhaps those others where merely to shy to tell a woman when she aught to be adored?" He purred playfully, before his smile turned more sincere, "Honestly, it was not my intentions to insult, merely a shock that your husband would not be closer to your side, My Lady." In that moment, the knight came through, as the tall beast bowed his head, the angle of his muzzle as it brushed against his chest. In another time, in another station, metal gleaming off of armor would have reflected the sunlight. His youthful, boyish grin having not yet been tempered by the betrayal of his king.
Now, however, that knight struggled to claw his way out of the crushing weight of power, or expectations, of corruption that weighed down his soul as if he were nothing more than the bad guy everyone was seeing him to be. With great power came great responsibility, but also came preparation to hold up that power. Vreis did not have that preparation and he had begun to crumble beneath the weight of the power, the responsibility, the expectations so long ago. So he didn't pause in his playful antics, mischievous, as much as he was determined to see her grin, to see her brighten up, so her eyes would stop raining, so her smile would be less brittle. She scoffs, to which he grins brighter, "My intentions are pure miss, I told you when I approached, I'm here to simply make you smile. Considering you call out my intentions with a grin, I suspect I am succeeding." His gaze softened, more earnest in that moment, "A brittle smile hides a crying heart, I suspect yours has been crying for a long time . . . you'll have to forgive me for wanting to lighten your mood during a festival such as this." He chuckles then, as she asks for his name - a name he had offered as soon as he had approached, no less, "My Lady! You insult me, have you forgotten my name so quickly upon my arrival. I suppose I am devilishly handsome," He teases with a wink, "I cannot fault you for an idled brain when confronted with a being like myself." He smiles, all playful, and charming, and trying to encourage a laugh from her now that he had won himself a grin, "Vreis, My Lady, at your service." And again, came that sincere bow, even as he kept those dark coal eyes focused on her, and that tantalizingly boyish grin on his face. He didn't know for sure what his own end game was, but he'd be the first to admit to finding the exchange a delight already.
Who knew Novus had such . . . delicacies on display.
"Speech" Thoughts
@Jane Notes: Still figuring out much of his personality :D
Jane had made her assertion of the gentleman. He may not be a demon, but she was pretty sure he had no honourable intentions for the summation of their interaction. Despite herself, however, Jane felt a bit of her younger self springing back into her words as she felt his gaze sliding along her body. In spite of her pitiful mood, she rose beneath his gaze to match his imposing stature. She was no wilting daisy, regardless of what had befallen her.
Isaar, Jane’s husband, was completely blind. In a war he had lost his vision entirely, and the left eyeball had been removed. In its place stood a gaping hole, with a pale scar that darted like a ghost from his bottom eyelid, over the bridge of his nose and down into the remaining eye. He could see faint shadows but nothing more.
Still, he had requested a beautiful wife. He needn’t look at her, he just needed the knowledge that she was beautiful.
As such, Isaar very rarely deigned to even look at Jane. No menace or cruelty existed in this neglect, but it still rankled inside the mare. Especially when assisted by the fact that Jane was clearly aware of her beauty, and that said beauty was wasted upon her husband. She thought with fondness of the golden vines that raced up over her mahogany coat, the gold that rimmed her amber eyes and made her gaze just that bit more piercing.
The stallion grinned at Jane’s accusation, and Jane shifted subtly to face him. “Is it that odd for a married woman to be by herself?” Irony dripped along her voice, not with cruelty but with a sweet curiosity. “Where I come from, it’s the unmarried who get accompanied. Perhaps it is different here?” Of course, Jane had lived for that time in Solterra, but it had not necessarily been the… usual experience of a maiden in the Day Court.
But then the stallion accused her former mood. Described her smile as brittle and her heart as crying. Was I that obvious?
“If that is truly your attention, then you are deserving of thanks.” She tilted her chin slightly, analysing him even as she spoke.
But then the conversation continued and Jane pushed past the sudden feeling of exposure. He teased her, seeming to want to make her laugh. And perhaps a part of her was inclined to do so, but Jane did not give in yet. It was not out of a lack of amusement, however, but an undercurrent of competition that made laughter feel like a submission. He would not win her so easily. “I know your name, knight. I am asking for its meaning, since you so deftly knew mine.”
jealousy, turning saints into the sea
swimming through sick lullabies, chocking on your alibis
but it's just the price i pay, destiny is calling me
open up my eager eyes, 'cause i'm mr. brightside
It was true that Vreis was not your normal stallion, he could be both honorable, and despicable at the same time, acting on one influence even while the other plotted in the background of his minds. He was just always watching, always wondering, still so addicted to the lust of power, he hadn't been able to shake that corruption yet - hadn't realized the damage it was doing to the good knight he had once been. And yet, even now, talking to a married woman, he couldn't help but play, help but flirt, help but tease. What should have been an immediate back pedal had turned into a game of wits and who could hold out the longest. A gauntlet had been thrown and she met the game with eager embrace.
So the stallion didn't bat an eye at playing back. The ball being served from one side to the other, eagerly waiting for the other to fumble. But, Vreis also was careful about a distance, was careful to make sure that he didn't encroach to fully. He kept the game safe, he kept it simple, he avoided pushing where she might pull back. When you reel in a fish, you do it with a steady, smooth hand, you wait until they're close enough to catch before you yank them into you. And whether the pretty golden vined mare knew it or not, Vreis was starting to set his eyes on a new catch.
Then she asks something that pauses him. His blood runs cold at the question, his features lose their joy, and take on a steely expression, "I cannot imagine how things may be different here, but from the lands I come from, it is unusual for any woman to be by herself. But I come from a land where conspiracy and accusations run high, and we protect those we care for: wives, sisters, mothers and friends; with everything we have." He admits earnestly, before shaking his head, to dispel the ice he felt running through his veins. He offered a smile, trying to warm his own blood and soothe any concerns she may have felt from his less than reassuring words, "But from what I have seen of Novus, perhaps you are correct in their being a lack of concern on a woman being left on her own." He added with a chuckle, "Forgive the way I was raised affecting my concerns. It's hard to break old molds." The night added with a chuckle.
He did have to admit to his concerns for her mood however, her words declaring him deserving of thanks, and he chuckles, even as she is analyzing him, "I do not believe I should be thanked for being a decent being and concerning myself with the welfare of another, do you? When we start thanking individuals for their concern, we make it optional for it to be expressed. I believe fully in caring about the welfare and livelihood of another being a vital importance, don't you?" He asked with an easy grin, the last of that ice gone from his veins, "But, I do hope your heart is lightening, at least, and I'm not simply making it worse." He added, a playful wink.
But she doesn't give in to his teasing, she doesn't laugh, it's as if the battle is on. He grins at her questioning, and he raises himself into a proud stance, "Vreis, meaning he is strong in arms. Fitting for a former knight, do you not agree?" He offered before tilting his head at her, eyes twinkling, "I promise, they are rather strong, if you ever need someone that's not your husband to hold you." He adds with a playful dramatic grin, "I certainly have no qualms with the idea of embracing a gorgeous female, that's for certain." He adds, before his voice softens again, "More importantly, I suppose I should ask, what is it that troubles you so, that even your smiles can feel so hollow?" That earnest tone re-enters his voice, "Is there anything troubling you, anything I can assist with?" The way she speaks of her husband shows it's not abuse of a physical kind, perhaps issues with another relation, or of another sort. "Should you ever need help, I'll happily be an ivory knight and save the day." The master manipulator adds with a gentle and reassuring grin.
"Speech" Thoughts
@Jane Notes: I still don't know how earnest he actually is, and how much of this is just seeing what he can get from her. The knight and the manipulator circle each other so well, sometimes its hard for even me to see where one ends and the other begins.
There were times in Jane’s life where she had been known to act out. It had quickly labelled her as ‘a bad girl’ when she was young, a tempestuous young thing who boiled under the conventions her family spelled out for her. Indeed, when she had first been brought up, Jane had kicked at finery, at manners, at anything which was dressed in feminine purpose. Over time, however, her mother had managed to mould her into what she was now.
Indeed, her mother had sculpted the fine emotion and intelligence that made her a worthy member of society. Witty conversation and acting had worked itself deep into her core until she took it at its face and assumed that this was what she was, a good wife, a good daughter, a good girl.
But that true self remained. The side that some psychoanalysts might call the Id, the Shadow, the Subconscious, lapped up against her in tides controlled by the mood. And sometimes, sometimes Jane just wanted to break it all. Sometimes, on nights where Jane felt like she was dying under the weight of all that pressure, she just wanted to ruin it. It was why she had flirted with Cassius, it was why she had embraced being kicked out by her aunt, and it was why she did not move away from the conversation that displayed every possible red flag.
How much more did she have to lose?
She had been punished for her sins against the family. She had been punished in a most grievous way- the denial of a future, this was the fate that had answered her subversion.
Vreis played back, played right into this game. Who controlled who, Jane wondered. Even if he might deny it, even though he may be chivalrous and knightly, Jane knew his kind well. Indeed, she felt the end already in her body and her bones. She felt herself blushing even as she spoke, with the inherent feeling of loss already sinking in her stomach. Self-respect, her rank, her reputation, everything slid away even now. This was fate, God-designed, and who was Jane to blaspheme?
But in the loss of everything else, something else was gained. The Jane that had abated under her fruitless and miserable marriage; the Jane that was funny and knew how to talk to strangers, reared its head on her first day back in Novus. Maybe it was something in the air.
But then Jane said something that seemed to strike wrong. Indeed, the comment about chaperones wiped the smile straight off Vreis’ face and exposed a set of cool, stern eyes. Was that the knight, or the general? His words turned calm and practical as he discussed another realm and another time.
Where did he come from? His accent was not Novan, and Jane found herself curving with curiosity to the stallion. Yet another foreigner, a foreigner who seemed to have feelings regarding his home practices. Oh, Jane could say things about that.
“I will not forgive you, for you have said nothing wrong. I admit, I don’t know anything about Novus. Or, not really. I am from the Argons, and we tend to be rather protective of women as well. But I can handle myself.”
The next time he spoke, the ice dripped away from his voice and he returned to his flirtatious charm. I believe fully in caring about the welfare and livelihood of another being a vital importance. Jane slid her gaze away as she heard those words. She did believe that, but how often had she practiced it? When had she ever been selfless? Jane had only ever been selfish-
But what had ever been given to her, really?
Wealth and status were her birthright, but outside her marriage she had never chosen it. The love of her mother, her education that she had so promptly wasted, all this had been clawed at by yours truly. None of these were gifts. What time had she had to be selfless, when others had given her nothing?
Vreis rose to Jane’s flirtation, her beautiful and selfish flirtation. He spoke, he teased, he flirted with her in broad daylight where anyone could overhear their conversation. And indeed, Jane’s heart raced with the shock of it all.
“You really are shameless, aren’t you?” Jane’s voice was laced with humour, even as she stared him down. How that must feel, to lack shame. “Absolutely anyone can hear us. The entirety of Novus, potentially.” Jane stepped closer, into his personal space. "What makes you think I’ll tell you about my marital issues to a stranger the day I reach Novus? What makes you feel like you are worthy of my demons?” Her words were accusatory, cool pride lacing her words even as she kept the glint of her former humour. She definitely wasn’t rejecting him.
But Jane would not be a fool.
Perhaps, Jane was tired of being a fool. If things were to go in the direction she suspected, she would not enter it blindfolded. And she would not let Vreis see her as blindfolded, either. Indeed, if he were wicked and cruel then he would see her as she was.
jealousy, turning saints into the sea
swimming through sick lullabies, chocking on your alibis
but it's just the price i pay, destiny is calling me
open up my eager eyes, 'cause i'm mr. brightside
There were times when Vreis could see an entire map in front of him, of relationships to encourage, for actions to make. Like a battleplan on the board, he knew which pieces to push forward, and which pieces to pull back to award himself victory. He read these same cues into conversations fairly well. He could see the tells in the face, read the tones in the voice, note the body language and adjust his commentary accordingly to encourage his preferred outcome. Unfortunately, in situations like this, he wasn't sure what his preferred outcome is. Jane was gorgeous, that much was sure. And perhaps with a little bit of angling, he could sneak her out from under this husband of hers, if but for a night. But beyond that? Well, they say cards fall where they may, and he was tempted to blow the house down and see what they end up saying.
So he encouraged, he played, he volleyed that ball right back into her court, a constant power struggle to see who was in charge, when both were giving in equally, both were engaging, both were encouraging. She might scoff, she might challenge, but she stayed, and in staying, she would only encourage the knight more. And in the back of his mind, that part of him silently plotted. Then she asked about the way women were treated around here, and it was like ice running through his veins. So briefly he could see her face, begging him for mercy, begging him to let her go, to let her escape. That she would never show her face again. Begging him in the name of their time together, their love for each other, even as he led one of his mares, one of his beloved to his king, turning her in for witchcraft, for magic.
The ball had dropped on him however, scarred and exiled, accused for treason against the crown, conspiracy, and aiding a magic user. It had fractured a part of him deep inside, that resentment, that rage, that betrayal manifesting into something full of hate and despair. It fed on those negative feelings, and when it reared it's ugly head, it always turned the knight into something so much more dangerous. She then tells him she won't forgive him, as he's done nothing wrong, and the last of the ice that had flooded his veins melted as he grinned, charming but grateful, the beast sedated for the moment, "Considering I believe you capable of flaying me with your words alone, my Lady; I have no doubt on your capabilities to handle yourself." He replies with a playful wink, grinning easily, "Of course, I'm sure if you were to ask with those vibrant eyes of yours so pleasing, I'd willingly hand over the knife myself for you to skin me." He teased, the ice fading, returning to himself.
She then questions on if he were shameless, flirting to obviously where all of Novus could here. She steps closer even, asking what makes him believe she would talk to him about her issues, what makes him so worthy to carry those demons. He raises a brow, accepting the challenging and taking the steps forward, his chest pressing against hers, as his muzzle lowers to her ear, "My lady, in case you're not aware, you're just encouraging me so shamelessly out in the open." He teased, before lifting his head, his lips toying with a strand of her hair, his gaze locked on hers, as he lets the lock fall until it bounces against her neck. He shifts back, circling around her, "I don't think it's a case of if I believe I'm worthy of your demons . . . " He muses, and his muzzle shifts, tracing those golden vine works around her body as he circles around her, "I think it's a case of you attempting to decide if you really want to tell me. I never once accused you of having marital issues, merely stating my surprise your husband wasn't with you . . ."
He drops his face, so his head is even to hers, as he comes to her front again, "So tell me, my Lady;Are you so accusatory because you're against my presence, or is it because you're against your own reaction to it. I can assure you. I won't judge you for your demons, if that is your concern. I have my own as well, after all. No one gets through life with out them. The question really is, why are you still questioning me, even as you move closer, as you flirt back, coy and beautiful you may be, my lady. But what is it you fear by . . . giving into a little temptation . . . " He chuckles, his gaze darkening, his smile turning a little more sensational, as his gaze roams her body, "I think temptation right now could be a very fun thing to give into . . . Don't you agree, Jane?" He whispered, her name slipping from his muzzle like it was the sweetest of fruits he'd ever been allowed to taste.
