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| Olivier & Helena; otp: I don't want your crown, I have my own | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Feb 24 2017, 01:41 PM (159 Views) | |
| Olivier D'Grey | Feb 24 2017, 01:41 PM Post #1 |
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Ebenezer Scrooge
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| Helena Faye | Feb 26 2017, 03:26 PM Post #2 |
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The Damsel
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![]() Olivier: *After inclining his head and neck in a bow despite the fact his eyes never completely drop, he looks up smiling,* To what do I owe the unexpected honor? Helena: *quickly looks around the room and then answers him with a smile of her own, if not a similar tone* The scintillating pleasure of your company, of course. It's a lovely day, don't you agree? And I saw a glimpse of the most beautiful hydrangeas when I arrived, I'd love to see them. *lifts her eyebrows* Olivier: *immediately offering an arm, bemused at the word 'scintillating', and straightens* A glimpse? How shamefully fleeting, your highness. We must change that. After all, I have the feeling you would be frightfully bored otherwise, or else you wouldn't be seeking me out. Helena: *takes his arm, turning in place in preparation and to catch a glimpse of her royal guard to ensure he was still far enough behind her to overhear* Boredom is the commodity of the unoccupied. Trust me, this countryside tour has kept me plenty busy. I can't tell you how comforting it is to see a familiar face, my lord. *Literally, she could not.* Olivier: *He chuckled as she looks over her shoulder, pondering idly aloud.* Ah. So am I a cautious tale to be relayed quickly from your guard to your parents, so they would spirit you away back to the glamourous life at court then? Helena: *Her eyebrows lift as she looks at him and a genuine smile appears on her face before she looks forward again* You think me capable of using my subjects in such manner? Olivier: Of course not, your highness. *Grins* I would never presume to judge what it is you may be capable of and so risk underestimating you. Besides. *He turns the corner to head into the outdoor corridor,* I'm happy to believe myself so important. Helena: But you do presume to judge other things about me. My not enjoying this tour, for example. The scrutiny I'm familiar with, the directness less so. Olivier: Ah, as to that, I was simply judging your tone as you desired my 'scintillating' company, after all, when I wasn't aware we were so familiar. Helena: We are not. I embellished with either too convincing a tone or you simply hear what you want. Given your previous response of thinking yourself so important, it's likely the latter. *smirks and then seems to remember herself and softens her expression* And yes, I always presume to judge. Olivier: *grinning, equally at comfort with the directness, even if he was...A teeny bit relieved to see her soften.* In that, you judge correctly. Did I cast aspersions on your character for my own judgment? Helena: ...a bit. *would clear her throat if she weren't determined not to make any noise of discomfort* The spoiled princess reputation was not wholly unearned but it has been greatly exacerbated. Olivier: *Ha!* I beg you, do not worry on that front, princess. My own brother's own wife has me well acquainted with how much worse such a thing could be. *As they turn the corner to begin stepping down the stairs he casually eyes the guard as well.* Still. Shall we give him a show, then? Helena: Begging already, my, that was quick. *quickly laughs to hide her own surprise at her words, and pats his arm with her free hand* I jest at Princess Stefanie's expense. My imitation pales in comparison. *Looks at Olivier and asks with genuine curiosity and burgeoning delight* What do you have in mind? Olivier: On the contrary, you have no idea how fresh I find it to be able to jest without fear of reprisal from my dear fratello. *He tilts his head to lift his other, and lay it on top of hers. Then, he eyes the guard, her gown and jewels, then back out to the grounds.* There is a fountain, not far from the hydrangeas we seek, your highness. And on such a fine midspring day... Helena: *her eyebrows arch high before they narrow in consideration* I am feeling rather warm. *She takes her hand back and places it against the skirt of her dress* Though there are certain items I'd prefer not get wet. Olivier: *After immediately removing his own coat, he graciously extends both hands.* I would be happy to assure they do not even touch the grass or ground, your highness. Shall I assist? *His eyebrow grows.* Helena: *after a moment she reaches into the 'hidden' pockets of her dress skirts and pulls out several pieces of blank parchment, a small cloth bag tied together with a string that in the light seems to glow* You are most accomodating, my lord. *Places her items in his hands, eyes trailing over the bag* Olivier: That is one of many things I endeavor to be, of course. *curious as she hands him these, mostly the cloth bag as it seems to glow, and is surprised she had not yet handed him her tiara, of course. He glanced at it.* Shall I protect your jewels as well, in this mysterious bag? I do swear I shall not put a curse on them. Helena: *her hands reach for her tiara instinctively, frowning* Worry over your own jewels, my lord, no man is going to decrown me. *She straightens up and then looks at the bag again pointedly and then at his pockets* Olivier: Fair enough, and a good lesson to be sure. *He could be gracious. In any case, it did not seem like they were getting that off of her, so he let it go (despite a gleam in his eye at the challenge, a bit of a hunger evident for his own, even as a Duke). He reached to take his watch off, followed by the chain of medallions around his neck rimmed in gold. He follows her gaze, silently pulling the bag towards his own pockets and then abruptly, opening his jacket to reveal his own hidden pocket and asking with an eyebrow if she would prefer the bag remain hidden there.* Helena: *Oh, well, that figured. Restraining a sigh and a smirk, Helena simply nodded once in acquiescence.* We'll get to that. *Now, however, concerning her accessories- she looked at her rings and necklace. The jewelry would survive fountain water (and it was spelled to only be pulled off by her so there was no need to worry about it slipping off anyways. Yes, she was satisfied.* Finished? Olivier: Will we? *Was his future royal going to be teaching him lessons in courtesy? Funnily though--and sure, call it his ego--he rather thought he had just as much to teach her. He extends his hand to offer his assistance after slipping the bag in his hidden pocket,* You aren't worried about your silk? Helena: Or we can keep my visit about your company. *But yes, they would, given that he had her possessions now. She did agree to it, after all, but perhaps a tad too quickly.* Only about how annoying it will be having it stuck to me -after- I exit the water. *takes his hand* Not enough of a deterrent. Olivier: You do know how to intrigue. *He mmm'd his way through saying that, grinning at her and sliding a thumb across her palm in the gentlest of caresses. Ah, and it seemed they were about to be joined by her guard.* That's half the fun for me. Allow me to lead the way. *He dropped the jacket on his arm and tugged with a devious rougish delight, ignoring the guard as they start to round the corner and come full in view of her hydrangeas.* Everything you hoped for, my princess? Helena: *She was loathe to admit that the stories were true, he was charming. Never a good thing to be, charmed. Thankfully, she had a clear focus. Well, admittedly she was taking the scenic route, quite literally. She followed with a smile that only grew at the flowers. She stepped closer to examine them* Hydrangea macrophylla? *she smiles again* They are beautiful. Olivier: Impressive. You have an interest in gardening? *He was surprised, if only a little, to hear the actual scientific name come from her lips. He was well-informed as to the Queen's own interest, after all, and made perfect sense her daughter would know. Yet still, even he who had them planted could not have referenced every scientific name at a moment. Or perhaps his smile was simply how beautiful hers was.* Indeed. *He laid his jacket with his own jewels down, careful to keep hers from the ground, as he promised.* Helena: I have an interest in botany, as well as pretty things. *And paired with an inquisitive mind and an attention to detail, it left her passing her time learning the genus and species of flowers.* It helps to be precise when there are so many different kinds of the same flower. Carl Linnaeus revolutionized botanical nomenclature by using binomial names, making that job far easier. His book 'Species Plantarum' is a good one to have, very thorough. *She traced her fingers around the petals and then backed away, turning towards the fountain* Is this Italian marble? Olivier: *Now he was not only intrigued by Princess Helena herself, he was actually interested in the things she was talking about. Not the least bit because he had that book -- for enchanting purposes.* I actually have that as a reference for spellwork, but I have never taken the time to learn it that well. What piqued your interest? *Then he nods, bemused.* Good eye. I have to import it, but nothing but the best. Helena: Potionmaking. Well, and a very unfortunate incident where the royal prince was an utter prat and confused English yew with holly. Or at least he said he confused them. *Of course the Duke thought Italian marble superior, given his own heritage. It was a nice fountain though. Helena lifted her skirts and stepped out of her shoes and then onto the fountain ledge* Olivier: *Laughing in a bit of delighted surprise of how open she was to disparage her brother. Again, that...Was refreshing. She was nearly as direct as he, if a few small (glowing) items said otherwise. Stepping up beside her,* That sounds like a mess, princess. Did you at least pay him back dearly in kind? *As he takes his shoes off with a finger snap and telekinetically.* Helena: *She tsks at him* A princess never plots and tells. *She watches him with mild appreciation at the quick and effortless spellcasting but doesn't otherwise acknowledge it. Instead she looks forward down at the water. Just a short hop away.* Olivier: Ah, but now I want to persuade you. *He wiggles an eyebrow and then decidedly hops into the water ahead of her, not even bothering to take his socks off. Then he turns to look at her, extending a hand.* Helena: Have you ever come across a challenge you haven't accepted? *Eyebrows him in turn only to laugh a bit as some of the water splashes against her dress. She takes his hand and then jumps in as well with another laugh* Oh! It's cold. Olivier: Would life not be incredibly boring if I had? *Grinning, he shakes his head and splashing intentionally up with another eyebrow wiggle. He was about to point out her guard were going to get quite upset - it was a 'now or never' and then he grins when she jumps.* I did think it would be refreshing! *He grins.* Helena: Ha! *She purses her lips together again, realizing she was getting exceedingly more familiar than she originally intended. She could hear her guard's shocked gasp now, even as he stayed back. Helena grinned, leaned down and splashed water at Olivier's face* And is it, my lord? Olivier: Ah-!*Delighted...If a bit colder than he intended, he was nonetheless excited to see her smile. It was wide, and freer than he had seen her yet. He catches her wrist as she splashes, chuckling,* Oh now, that's dangerous, you might even say playing with fire… Helena: How fortunate then! *she uses her foot to splash this time, though it is considerably more difficult with the weight of wet fabric* You will be so easy to douse. *smirks and takes her hand back and moves to the center of the fountain* Olivier: Princess, are you offering yourself a challenge for this? *He scoots around, undeniably pleased by the way that the dress is beginning to cling to her body as she moved back.* If so...*he starts sliding back in the water, making himself less of a target.* Helena: I'm sure I don't what you mean. *grins and then takes partial cover around the fountain tiers, only splashing herself more in her efforts. It was still as cold as the first time she hopped in. With a smirk, she whispered a spell under her breath and sent a wave of water after him* Olivier: *A hand goes up automatically as he prevents the wall of water from doing more than -- okay, well, it splashes him, because it goes up in the air around him like it hit an invisible wall. But he laughs, hands coming down and accusing,* You fight dirty, don't you princess? Or are you sure you don't know what I mean here, either? *smiles* Helena: *looks around and her mouth opens momentarily in feigned affront* How dare you accuse me of such a thing? Oh, now you've offended me. I fight as honorably as my father. *Makes a swirl with her finger, the spell she casted still active, and sends a jet of water at Olivier from behind him* And as smart as my mother. Olivier: *That, he should have expected. Bloody hell, he wasn't actually flustered was he? Well he was...Wet. Leaning down, he immediately used his own hand to splash up at her over the fountain, after feigning a bow with,* Allow me to make my most humblest apologies, my princess -- *except even as he knelt in the water, he leaned over to pick her up.* Helena: You're capable of being humbl-ah! *This time her surprise was real as she was reached for and carried, a small squeak of indignation coupled with a delight in spite of herself. Her cheeks threatened to flush at the behavior, her wet dress offering less of a barrier than clothing normally would. And even knowing that, her giggles continued* Olivier! Put me down at once! Olivier: *His grin had widened with genuine delight to hear her squeal of enjoyment--if Olivier was being honest with himself, he might have worried about the consequences of lifting the royal princess in his arms. The guard had startled and then back away again, now doubt now compiling quite the compendium of their show. After swiveling, to ensure both of them were equally wet and sticking together,* Is that a royal decree, your highness? Helena: *Oh Goddess, she had used his first name. This whole event was scandalous enough without adding her hesitance at his question, and yet here she was, distracted by the proximity. It might have only been a second, a maximum of two, but it was noticeable.* Yes, unhand me, in the name of the Princess! Olivier: In the name of the princess then, at once. *And he resolutely drops her, immediately, dousing her - which admittedly splashed him too. But he didn't care, he kept both hands up, let it hit his face.* Helena: *She falls with another squeak, unceremoniously into the water, now completely drenched. Hair she had managed to keep only damp was now stuck to her face, a few strands on her open mouth. She pulled them away with one hand and ensured her tiara was still in place with the other. It was.* Well played. *Then she tried to kick him off balance* Olivier: *He saw the kick coming. Why he let it land and dump him unceremoniously next to her. Maybe he just wanted to be next to her, they were now equally wet and laughing, and he could help getting the hair out of her mouth.* Princess! I am properly ashamed. *He leaned down to take the hair out.* Helena: *Oh she should have thought that through, now she was splashed yet again. Ah, it was worth it.* A success, then, my work is done. *Her gaze fell momentarily to his fingers on her cheek before she looked at him and promptly laughed* Oh, now I feel better. Your hair looks probably as ridiculous as mine. Olivier: *gasping, his hands fly off her cheek to check his hair, genuinely actually upset as he pats it down* Well now this is a truly humble experience, my princess. At least I know the water is fresh...If not also imported. *He teases.* Helena: Nothing but the best, right? *She teases him back in kind with his own words before standing. She was correct when she thought earlier the wet silk was going to be annoying, along with the multitude of layers already normally heavy and now more so. And to think this was her more casual countryside wear.* You weren't wrong, this was truly…refreshing. Olivier: Precisèment. *That...Was a charming view,lovely, and he's abruptly concerned he may not...Actually be able to stand up with his clothes clinging as hers with. Well, without revealing his primal stirring, but it did at least look as though she was equally flustered. He leaned against the archway of the fountain, enjoying.* I am truly delighted to have exceeded your expectations. *He hadn't pretended not to be self-important yet, why start now? She was the royal princess, if anyone could understand it...Especially as she had humbled him.* I believe I may have some clothes for you to change into if you would like. Princess Stef is near enough your height. Helena: Only just. *she clarified with a practiced air of composure as she walked to the edge of the fountain and stepped out.* You're very kind my lord, but I wouldn't want to impose in such a way. *And while Princess Stefanie had the most beautiful attire, it was also more...risque than Helena personally preferred.* Just a private room where I can dry these off with a quick spell will be enough. Olivier: *Strange, how hearing his formal title once more seemed suddenly a mark of distance he did not want.* Apart from using my reputation, that is. Fear not, your highness, I remain flattered. *He was ... well, too much himself to not continue to watch, even as he half-heartedly considered graciously offering a hand to help her out. Besides, it did not appear she needed his help in any way. How rare and joyous to find a woman who would not believe she was being disrespected.* That is easily arranged. I'll set a fire as well, I would not want you to catch a chill even on such a fine day as this. Your father may have decreed no further executions, but I daresay he may find this an excuse to take my head. Helena: *She smiled, finding the gesture much easier to do when she was turned away. Wringing out her hair over one shoulder, Helena cast a glance at her scandalized (though trying very hard not to show it) guard.* I daresay you may be right. *She smiled again, and turned to look at him* Thank you. A fire will be nice. Perhaps then we can speak in confidence. Olivier: *His intrigue did nothing to dampen his desire, but he had gotten better hold of himself by now. He had to. That was the job of a Duke. Stepping out himself and wringing out his sleeves, he decidedly left them pushed up. At least this way he would not have to offer her a wet arm as well.* Then allow me to lead the way. Edited by Olivier D'Grey, Mar 22 2017, 05:08 PM.
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| Olivier D'Grey | Feb 27 2017, 11:53 AM Post #3 |
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Ebenezer Scrooge
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Helena: *With her hair and clothing dry again, Helena was nervous, and that was without considering what her parents would have to say about it. She smiled as she brushed her hair with a conjured brush. A knock on the door made her stand from her chair by the fire.* Enter. Olivier: Ah, you look far more comfortable, your highness. *He only had to knock once. Surely that was a good sign? He had changed himself, though he left his hair a ... bit less tended-to than he usually preferred, if only because she had appeared to enjoy teasing him about this. (Also, his brother wasn't home.) And yes, her guard was also eyeing her outside the door. He eyed the man as he came just inside, grinning as he added,* I believe you wanted to speak in confidence? Helena: *She made the brush disappear again and smiled* I am, thank you again. *She shot her guard a look but otherwise ignored him as she nodded* Yes, if you wouldn't mind. *She gestured at the door and turned, walking closer to the fire and waiting for him to close the door* May I have it now? Olivier: *Giving a predictable smile to the guard, he let the door shut behind him with a simple finger snap. Was that a flicker of apprehension he heard in her heart? Intriguing. Following her a few steps towards the marble (Italian as well) fireplace, he reached into his pocket to offer her the drawstring bag. Well. He held it out to her, but did not let it go.* May I inquire as to its purpose, your highness? Helena: *Her hand closed around it, prepared to tug it when she realized that his grip had not loosened. She raised her eyebrows.* Yes, but it will be the only thing you inquire about, not where or how I obtained it. Olivier: I would never ask one such as yourself to reveal your source. *He still has not let go.* Provided you do not inquire after my own. *His fingers loosen.* Helena: Your reputation precedes you, Olivier. *The dichotomy of her statement was purposeful: the assumption of a reputation vs the familiarity she felt he had earned. With a quick tug she takes the package from her fingers and holds it in her hands. With an exhale of a spell, she tugged at the string. It glowed brighter and then dulled as it fell away. The corners of the bag fell and in her palm she revealed a small stone, the color of malachite and the texture of a sea urchin.* This...nasty bugger, once in contact with human skin, is supposed to sap a person's intelligence. Maybe then it contains it, or destroys it, I have no idea. But I need it gone, and I need it forever free of any hands that might use it against my family. Olivier: *Quiet and with a shiver of enjoyment, he realized,* You were sorting out my expertise, not merely my refreshment. *He felt the power in the stone the moment her protective spell fell away. She held it - deftly, with obvious practice - up to him. Olivier did not allow himself to move an inch apart from his hand. It scooted in the air over top her palm and the dangerous gemstone, feeling out the ward she had managed to place on it.* ...A rare find indeed. *He casts his eyes up at her, curious. The question in his eyes is mild.* You wish only to destroy it? I would have thought your family had a fair few they'd be safer rendering ignorant. Helena: *She thought he would have been offended, even a little, but it seemed the opposite. She felt better about revealing the object now. Helena was familiar with the curiosity in his eyes, she'd had it herself.* My father abhors secrecy, even as he sees the need for it. Our spymaster would be joyous over such a discovery. But *she shakes her head* no, I want it gone. What do you want? *She looks at him, eyebrows rising* I'm aware it's not good business to destroy potential merchandise, so name your price. Olivier: *His hand gracefully falls as he ceases testing the stone. Well, for now. There were a few more pulses of magic, shot from his fingertips to her palm as he shivered once more. His eyes were hooded with an intensity now, some mixture of desire and bemusement and curiosity as he beheld her.* I want a great many things, princess. *Slowly, he moves both hands behind his back and clasps his own wrist. Shadowed eyes look down at her as he considers,* My price? If I were to buy it, you'd consider it safe? Ah, or the price for the spell to permanently destroy it? Helena: *Now this was closer to the duke she expected to come across. Once his hand falls away, she brings the corners of the bag upward again and ties it with the same string. Then, she nods.* The latter. That is, assuming you know and are capable of such a spell. Olivier: Assumptions which are dangerous things, considering the questionable legality of such a spell. *He did not quite think she had an intention to threaten him - her royal stature notwithstanding. The avarice in his glance did not quite disappear, despite the fact she had tucked the malachite away again.* Has it cursed one you know? *The easiest way to destroy a curse usually was to destroy the object of the curse, not it's transport container. But he did not say that yet; if it was someone she cared for, he may find himself accidentally suggesting murder.* Helena: With a considerable weight behind the word 'questionable'. *She tucked the bag in her hidden pocket again.* I do not seek to end a curse, my lord, just the future threat of it. It cannot be allowed to endure. Are we in agreement or must I find help elsewhere? Olivier: *His eyebrow pops up.* Are we in agreement? I was not aware I had suggested the components of the spell yet. *Her impatience was curious, however. It meant she had been threatened, in all likelihood. Even if he had agreed not to ask questions to her source, she was not depriving him of making judgments. (Which, boded well, since she no doubt was making the same of him.)* Or did you believe that you could eliminate this threat on your own, with only a few words from me? Helena: *She laughs once, the sound forced and bitter- a far cry from the laughter they had shared earlier in the fountain* Are you underestimate me or overestimate yourself? Either is dangerous. *She swallowed on a drying throat and after a glance at the door, she stared at him* I do not want to regret coming here. I'm asking your help. I do not have the patience for our lifestyle's usual game, not this time. Name your price. Olivier: I have no price. *He names at once.* Not monetary. Destroying such a stone requires two participants, your highness. *He inclines his head in half a bow.* And cooperation. Work with me. That's my price. A fair one, I imagine, as you must not have wanted anyone else to know of this trinket, if you came to me in the first place. Helena: *She eyes him with no small amount of apprehension, trying to quickly gauge his intentions with the small amount of information she had. Helena shook her head.* I must insist in compensating you, somehow. It would not be fair, despite your judgment saying otherwise. Olivier: Hmm. *He lifts a hand now, outstretching it towards her without actually touching her, then shrugs and takes a step back.* Your company is compensation enough, but if you insist. I'm sure I can come up with a fair figure...or, artifact, to arrange our business deal, here. Helena: *She did. Owing Duke D'Grey a favor was not a position she wanted to be in, despite how much she had enjoyed their previous activity* Artifact? *eyebrow arch* Why does it sound like you already have an object in mind? Olivier: Does it? *He smiles and takes a few steps away from her now, not once lifting his eyes from her. Instead, he leans casually against the fireplace - enjoying the silhouette of a shadow as he considers her.* Perhaps I have a few. If you were able to come across such a stone as that, it seems to me you may be able to gain access to a few I have had my eye on. Helena: *On second thought, perhaps she should have taken his previous offer after all. Too late. Helena tilted her chin up.* One. A stone for a stone, and not a single additional one. Olivier: *He smiles.* I ask only what is fair compensation, since you did not seek my generosity. *Though she would have to continue to spend time with him which, he...business dealings aside considered his honest goal. She was intriguing him. And to think, he had told his brother he wanted no more princesses in his life.* Shall we toast our partnership, your highness? Helena: *She nods, accepting if still a little uneasy. Her father always said that one could tell a fair compromise was reached if neither party were too happy. Olivier, however, seemed perfectly content.* And here I thought you'd run out of lavish imports to try to impress me with. Olivier: Ah, I regret to say this is nothing so foreign and impressive. Simply a semi-recent wine from the Yeogate vines. *He snaps his fingers again to make the bottle appear, admitting,* I have a weakness for a few of the Brackner products, as of late. Helena: *Brackner wine. Helena giggled.* Oh I can already hear their egos inflating from here. *She smirks and then holds her hands out, waiting for a glass to appear in it...and also half challenging him to do it.* Olivier: *Eying her open, extended hand - so recently holding contraband already - his smile turns sly. Another snap, and the wine glasses appear - albeit in his own hand, only conjured from behind the nearby bar. He wiggles a finger to make the wine bottle follow him as he approaches her again, extending the wine.* They do one thing - and only the one - right, but credit where it is due, of course. Helena: *Hmm, well played. She takes a step forward after he extends the wine and takes it from his hand, their fingers brushing as she laughed at her extended family's expense. Helena didn't feel bad- she only liked about a third of them anyways.* And now I hear their scoffs. *She lifts her glass* To our partnership? Olivier: They do make that noise often enough. *He pops the cork, manually. This time, he wanted her to see him work with his hands. Pouring, he trails eyes up the princesses wrist, neck, until he met her eyes again.* Indeed. However many forms it shall take. *He clinks the glass with hers, unable to help himself from adding that to the toast.* Helena: *The air on the back of her nose rose as his gaze threatened to make her shiver. The warmth behind her cheeks she could attribute to the fire, and soon to the wine, but there was no chill to blame in case of a shiver. And she wasn't doing herself any favors by looking at his hands and remembering how they felt earlier.* Cheers. *Her throat was getting dry. Thankfully, she did have something to swallow. She took a demure sip, having still enough reason to know that wine in large amounts would never be her friend.* Olivier: *He took a swig that was at least three sizes her own, though he kept a close eye on how much she took. The nerves were a good sign, he judged. Gesturing that she come sit near him after he took a swig, he let the bottle float itself back to the table (he did have to keep an eye on it, using so much magic was a bit more taxing than even the hybrid would like it to be). As he sat,* So you are your family's secret protector, are you? Chasing down preemptive threats before they could even come after them? Helena: *She sat down, back straight, shoulders low, neck and chin held high, and her ankles tucked around each other under her dress, just like she was taught. She did it without thinking.* Need I remind you we agreed you wouldn't inquire about how I came across the object? Olivier: You needn't. *Simply,as he eyes her over the top of his glass.* I simply meant to inquire after your seeming selflessness, not the specifics of your methods. It is admirable, truly. Acquisition of such a trinket simply to save your family from potential threats. Helena: *She smiles and shakes her head, staring at her wine glass seemingly transfixed.* The list of decisions I've made for one single reason is short. I may not be heir to the throne, but when you're royalty the first duty you have is to your people. *That little stone in her pocket seemed to grow heavier* But selfless would be inaccurate. Olivier: In that, I believe you will find we have at least the one thing in common. Apart from a fondness for dismaying your guard and refreshing dips. *The tease had left his lips before he considered exactly how it may sound. Ah. He took a sip and thanked his mother internally, that his brother was not here to witness this.* Your protective nature, then, if not a selfless one. Helena: *She giggles into the glass and takes another small sip of her wine to give her time to weigh her next words* It's not that difficult to cross into protective when defensive is all you've ever known. Olivier: Please princess, you're speaking to the vampire's son. *It wasn't anything but an open secret, after all, so he saw no reason not to confirm it. Besides, he was curious to see her reaction to the reminder. Here he was drinking red wine, having taken such, however well-received. presumptive liberties.* There are worse things one could cross over into. Helena: *Ah, that's what the wine was reminding her of. Ironically, the acknowledgement of the association caused her 'small' sip of wine to last longer, rather than be cut short. So far, all the rumors were turning out to be true and that was...concerning.* I suppose...a bit off topic from the compliment you were trying to pay me. Olivier: A bit, perhaps, but you are proving enjoyably difficult to easily compliment. *There wasn't even a blip in her drinking, despite the odd flutter of breath at his reminder. Pleased she was neither easy to spook nor placate, he set his glass on his thigh, adding,* Though as you judged correctly, that won't cause me to cease trying. A challenge left unsatisfied is abhorrent to me, and a woman left so, infinitely more so. Helena: *she restrained herself from taking another sip of wine as a cover from his statements. Instead she repeated them.* So you find me enjoyable and you wish to satisfy me. *She raises her eyebrows* consider, perhaps, that I am not difficult to compliment, and you're just unimaginative, my lord. Olivier: Or perhaps it is only that I have not spent sufficient time with you, *he considered her, adjusting his seat,* and so lack the unique knowledge required to be more creative. |
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| Helena Faye | Mar 6 2017, 10:32 PM Post #4 |
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The Damsel
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Olivier: ...Well that does have my special brand of sadomasochism and a bemusing ring to it. *beat* Helena is perhaps a bit too good for me. Helena: There's no perhaps about it. ![]() Olivier: Aren't you supposed to say I am also a catch, princess? ![]() Helena: ![]() Olivier: I am honored by your returning to my chataeu so soon, of course. ![]() Helena: ![]() Olivier: *He smiles.* I have the spell prepped to destroy your malachite, your highness. Though it shames me to resort to business dealings immediately. Helena: Excellent. *claps her hands together and then raises her eyebrows momentarily confused before she ah's* are you not worried over mixing your business affairs with your personal ones? Or are they one in the same? Olivier: I do not worry about much, no. They are not easily ever separated when it comes to our courtly lives in the first place. Do you disagree? Helena: I don't...but then again I don't really consider myself to have a personal life most of the time. Not much stays private when you're living at court, especially so when you're royalty. Olivier: A shame, my princess. You deserve to have your own fantasies and internal life as much as anyone does, however unlikely such a thing is. Helena: *smiles but raises her eyebrows* I applaud you. How easily, and conversationally you brought up the subject of my fantasies, bravo. You've got a knack for this, don't you? Olivier: *includes his head in half a bow, half a nod, flattered.* As you do for complimenting me. Though I still ever endeavor to compliment you adequately. *He extends his hand.* Shall we talk, then, of your fantasies as we walk towards the room to rid yourself of that pesky stone? Helena: It is not difficult to compliment you my lord, you do not allow the opposite. *takes his hand* we may speak but not of my fantasies. After all, did you not just wish me privacy? Olivier: Ah, that is different for any but you, I assure you. *As he turns to glide them towards his study,* I simply take your favor in stride and ask for nothing more than the opportunity to offer my own. I appreciate that it is not easily won. *his grin widens as she continues* I did indeed. Helena: I don't believe there's anything simple about it, just as I don't believe there is anything simple about you. *Nods, more flustered than she was letting on* Then I shall keep those private thoughts to myself. Olivier: Mm, well, does it discourage you, if I am indeed a complicated man? *Walking much slower than usual - actually much, slower, consider at times he slips into a pace that was a gift of his father's genetics, and all.* Helena: No, but neither does it do the opposite. What do you worry I'm being discouraged from, pray tell? Olivier: Our burgeoning acquaintanceship, naturally, princess. I would like it to continue. Would you find this disfavorable? Helena: *She purses her lips, not to consider the answer but to stop herself from speaking it out so quickly.* I enjoy our time together. Do you worry something else will discourage my company? You might as well tell me now. *she smiles* Olivier: *He smiles.* And forgo my own privacy, your highness? *His fingers (unintentionally) squeeze hers.* I am sure you've heard rumors. From your cousin if no one else. Helena: You're right, I should allow you this. *She nods, as if gracious and unexpectedly tenses at the brief mention of Daniella (because, yes, it was Daniella, despite her multitude of cousins)* Daniella doesn't spread rumors, she either confirms or repudiates them. But yes, she did speak of you. Olivier: You should indeed. If I were to share secrets I would trust that you keep them in the utmost confidence. After all. We are both keeping our business today as such. *But he's grinning, because he's finding he didn't mind contemplating telling her...certain aspects of his being. Even as he chided himself to 'tread carefully D'Grey. This was a princess.* Ah, and yet you still state to enjoy my company? I had no idea I had risen in her good graces so. Helena: Well, if ever there comes such a time, I know you will not be disappointed. *smiles* She did not speak ill of you, no. Whatever you did to my cousin it seems has become a thing of the past. She actually expressed that she thought of you as a brother. Yet by your surprise I think it is safe to assume you don't share the sentiment? Olivier: I'm intrigued and looking forward to such a day. *Genuinely looks taken aback and then simply lets his fingers do the talking a moment, caressing her palm as they turn a corner. Then, flatly,* I hadn't thought of her in those specific terms, no, but it is ... Not one of inaccuracy. *He smiles with a shrug.* I am glad it is in the past, considering what you may or may not be about to ask me. Helena: *Looks at their hands, briefly distracted and only brought out of it when he spoke again* If I may ask, what happened between the two of you, that made you fall out of her good graces? Olivier: I was not the man for her. *Simply.* If there is one reason...*But then, he hesitated. Would it be speaking ill of her obviously much beloved cousin to bring up that he wasn't sure Daniella would ever be satisfied with only one romantic partner? That wasn't why he was unsure of her good graces, either. No, that lay with the business. He frowned slightly, then admitted,* She could not bring herself to bear the weight of my past. *He looked sideways at Helena, hesitantly.* All of which is to say I do not believe I am the same man now, that I was. Allow me some time to earn your trust and friendship before prying further. Everything I have done has been in service to my family, and my country, I assure you. Helena: *She nodded, unsatisfied but certain he was speaking honestly. Daniella hadn't revealed much either about the choices she believed he decided incorrectly on. Helena did not want to press, no matter how badly she wanted to know.* Then we shall speak no more of it, until that time. And if it makes you feel any better, my cousin also believes you are not the same man that you were then. Olivier: *His smile widens, as they enter the study and he nods at two guards and a servant tending the fireplace to vacate the room. Speaking of never having privacy.* I do appreciate that. *He idly let's the door shut with a telekinetic finger swish.* Not the information, for as I said surely you would not be here if she had dismissed me entirely, but for your instinct to assuage my, *his lips twitch,* feelings on the matter. *He tilts his head.* Though I admit that is forward and assuming of me to suppose. Helena: No, I would still be here. We simply would have continued on with our business in a curt, professional manner. *She wasn't likely to find someone else who would help her with this and also ask little questions.* You, forward and assuming? *lifts her eyebrows and smiles* Perish the thought. Olivier: Ah, and is this you being curt and professional after all? *He wiggles an eyebrow as he moves towards his desk drawer, relieving it of a little cauldron. He gestures to the fire.* Then let me assume further and ask you to find the hottest coals for our ritual. Helena: Have we not begun the business portion of my visit? *Amused, she nevertheless heads to the fire, crouching and picking up the tongs. Sorting through the coals, she picked the ones glowing hotter with the tongs and released them in the air next to her, where they remained floating. Helena did the same for a couple more and then stood, walking back to his desk, the coals floating along with her. She might have been, possibly, showing off.* Where you do want them? Olivier: So long as it is not the only portion. *He amends, perhaps a bit more hopefully than he should have been. And he was definitely more distracted than he should have been when she approached, attended with glowing coals in the air, as if a bride with her glamourous train. A vague hand flutters on his end accidentally ends up telekinetically assembling the small cauldron and basin beneath it. Well, 'accidentally'. As he points to it again, he comments idly,* Seems we make quite the team. Helena: *She smiled, directing the coals to their destination with a finger where they hover down and settle gently on the surface* It seems we do. Olivier: *His eyes honestly follow her finger more than the coals. He's still distracted. Then he clears his throat, and pulls a simple pair of black leather gloves, unadorned save silver thread. Slipping on so that he did not risk touching the gemstone, he commented,* We will have to channel one another to make this work - fire alone is not enough to destroy the curse. Do you have any objections to...? *And naturally, with a smooth unveiling up his sleeve, he produced a letter opener.* Helena: *She swallowed with some apprehension as he produced the edged letter opener. There were still so many objections against damoyei, even after her father had issued the proclamation. She'd never used blood in a spell before, but couldn't deny a curiosity. Helena deliberated for an additional moment and then held out hand as an answer* Olivier: *Looking at her hand, he smiled briefly as he takes it, then paused. The tip of the stainless steel rests on her fragile skin. He takes a breath, then asked,* No questions, first? Helena: *She exhaled as he paused and raised her gaze from the tip of the letter opener to his eyes* Questions after. Olivier: *Nods, immediately piercing her skin. His mouth opens on cue with hers, the tell-tale shadowed glint of hunger in his eyes as he draws blood, the scent fresh in the air. Though his fingers pinch in a manner desirious, he hestitates but a moment, then turns her palm and lets it drip into the cauldron, sizzling as it lands on heated metal.* Helena: *The hiss of pain was minimal, more surprise than any actual suffering. He had cut into her hand with a precision and a practice that were she to wholly consider at the moment would only leave her frightened. She looks at him again and sees no calculation in his eyes like she expected. Instead it was something more innate.* What next? Olivier: The stone. *He murmured, after giving himself a moment to collect his bearings. On top of offering her a bit to collect herself as well.* And then we'll need to chant together. They are yei-tiri words - I imagine you have been well schooled in their pronunciation? Helena: *She took her hand back and nodded, reaching into her hidden pocket to pull out the bag that housed the object.* I'm well learned in what we know of yeitiri. *What precious little they knew of their language.* Do you not need to add your own blood? Olivier: *He smiles.* I will. *And it was more than a few drops from him, he knew, since he is the one who would be casting. But he pushes a book open and towards her.* Top few lines. *He tips his his own hand over, now speaking almost reverently as he goes to his own wrist with the blade.* Helena: *Undoing the string with the same word she did last time, leaving it on the bag before setting it on the desk and looked over at the book, reading over the words under her breath to make sure she got the pronunciation correct. She's distracted as she watches him cut himself without a wince.* You're practiced in this. *of course he was, it was what she counted on when she asked for his help. It was different seeing it with her own eyes, however* Olivier: One of my many talents. *He demurred, holding his wrist over the basin. Then just as swiftly, he held a thumb and a handkerchief on top of the cut, waiting with his own - as she said 'practiced' sense - for himself to heal. It doesn't take that long, though it would be faster if he...No, he wouldn't let his mind go there. As he pauses holding the pressure on, he murmured,* You won't be sharing that, of course. Helena: *She raises her eyebrows and maybe it was how wary the blood drawing made her that turned her defensive.* I would be more inclined to do so if it didn't sound like an order. Olivier: *Fair enough. It was interesting how fast she had gone into a protect-mode, though he couldn't fault her. He couldn't imagine the princess had a lot of his own experience with this outlawed sort of magic.* I only mean that your father would surely pardon you where he would not myself. Helena: *He was right. As just and fair as her father was, he was not absent of bias. Despite the fact they were both willing participants in this Damoyei spell, only one of them would suffer the legal consequences of it if it came to light. But Helena knew better than to think she would be absent of any repercussions. By having her participate in this, he had leverage against her as well. Was that his intent or did he really need her blood? His mention of his vampire father was at the forefront of her mind.* That won't happen. Olivier: Then is it truly an order for me to mention it, or a statement you could take as a reminder you hold power over me and I'm seeking reassurance? *There was a pop beneath their still joined hands; their congealed, now mingled blood continuing to boil in the basin, painting the cursed stone. He replaced his glove and let the handkerchief fall into the mix as well, still dotted with his blood. The cut had healed beneath. With a word,* Inferno, *he'd set it alight alike and taken her hand once more. Murmuring,* Chant with me princess. We'll destroy this, then you can ask whatever you like on this topic. Helena: As do you over me. *She looked at their hands and the cauldron pointedly. Then as she watched, she noticed his heal cut and marveled at his ability to do so without saying a spell. Closing a door, or making something hover without an incantation was nothing, but healing a wound, even a small cut? Or was that not what had occurred? That train of thought, along with her questions, would have to wait. With a nod, Helena joined him in the incantation, following his lead, ensuring they were in harmony* Olivier: *To that he had nothing to say. The notion of having power over her was one best left for when he could not still taste the scent of her blood at the back of his throat. (Or better yet, he should not get any ideas about it when it came to the royal princess.) He chanted with her, their fingers clasped over the cauldron, leather gloves and dainty fingers alike. It did not take long for him to begin to feel the currents of the spell whisper through him, her, a clench of his knee-muscles steadying him as they went. After a minute, there was a loud -crack!- and a flash from the center of the stone, a torrent of smoke billowing into the air. Olivier ceased chanting at once, holding tight to her without thinking about it. When the smoke had dissipated, he let out an exhale and looked down. A smirk twisted up his lips; there was no power emanating from the cracked stone, nor the smoldering embers beneath it, when had gone cool - cool enough to touch. Which he demonstrated, plucking one up, then picking up the malachite with his ungloved hand. If she was going to show off, so could he.* There. *He inclined his head as he offered it to her.* I am afraid it has lost much of its luster in the process. Our blood has stained it, Zaira's offering ceasing anything Koake may have blessed it with. Helena: *after a surprised yelp and taking a moment to calm down, Helena peered down at the cracked and dull stone. He picked it up and she exhaled in relief, happy (and impressed) to see the spell had worked. She took it from him and inspected it herself.* fascinating. I've never heard of a method like that before. *but Helena was happy. The stone was sapped of any magical properties and she could be at ease* I'm glad to know that I was right to trust you, my lord. Olivier: That's because such methods are vastly overestimated as evil and underestimated as simple to control. *He tilts his head at her with absolute relief of her stated ability to be able to trust him, though he shouldn't be.* I am glad to hear you say so. It is not often I am able to...help, so completely. Helena: Why not? *Helena lifted her head after putting the stone back in her pocket, not needing anything to keep it safe anymore* You're more than capable. Olivier: Ah I am indeed. And capable of more, and therein lies the dilemma for most. *He goes to take her hand again, eying the still torn skin, however small it was.* I have a cream you can put on this, if you'd like. Helena: *She understood. She'd had a dilemma of her own at first and most people she knew wouldn't extend the benefit of doubt. She was getting used to him taking her hand. That was a scary thought.* One you currently have no personal use for. *She took his hand as well, turned it to trace where she had seen him cut his skin, a cut larger than hers that now was gone* Was that part of the spell? Olivier: *His breathing seems much heavier, more intense, as she starts tracing the thin remnant of the healed cut. Or...Perhaps it was the aftershocks of the spell he was trying to pretend had been no big deal to cast. Swallowing, he admitted,* No. A genetic gift, courtesy of my father. Helped along when I prepare for such spells. *However much she spoke of trusting him, however, such preparation...He was not sure she wanted to see. Turning and clearing his throat, he vaguely gestured to the couch as he headed to it himself, a bit needing to sit.* Helena: *Extraordinary. She didn't voice it lest she gave the impression that she was looking at him differently, like a magical discovery. She wasn't, despite her intrigue. How many other characteristics had he acquired from his vampire father? She let his hand go. It was clear that there was much he wouldn't yet share. She would respect that. She followed him, sitting on the couch with her hands folded on her lap* thank you. Olivier: *How close did he dare sit with her? Their was a remnant of the spell still pulsing through both of their veins; surely that was the only reason he felt inclined to be so close to her. A cousin of the royal family had already been dangerous for him; the daughter? He'd spent only two solo days in her company now and already were practicing illegal magic. Yet when he sat, it was just enough they could brush against the other. Maybe he'd always liked living dangerously.* Your welcome, your highness. I apologize for being...demanding, before. That spell requires...heavy reliance on primal instincts. Edited by Helena Faye, Mar 6 2017, 10:34 PM.
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| Alysa Stuart | Mar 11 2017, 05:32 PM Post #5 |
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Lady of Dorminster
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Olivier: And so your tour began just as school ended? Helena: Almost to the day. 'i'm done being educated now, here's your princess my royal subjects, who wants to marry me?' Olivier: *fondly* Sure, except you, naturally, made it more like 'I'm your princess, I'll find access to your secret collection of weapons against my family and you won't notice what I'm doing because I have a killer smile.' Helena: *grins* Yes, well. It's all a part of the job. Olivier: Is it? I had no idea. They leave that out of the official announcements -- which is saying something since they take a good...Oh, twenty minutes to list all your titles when announcing you sometimes. Helena: *gasps, feigning affront which fails given the size of her grin* Hark who's talking, Duke Olivier Auguste D'Grey of Canterdon. And Goddesses forbid they forget to add 'of Canterdon' otherwise they need to start all over. Olivier: *He inclined his head to her in delight as they walk, pointing out,* I never claimed I could not relate to this, only that it was a surprise they leave that out when they leave so little else out. *He wiggled an eyebrow.* Speaking of news, I imagine you're here to offer me personal congratulations on occasion of shortly becoming an uncle? Helena: As usual, you are both precise and incorrect. They leave much out, as I insist on it. *Smiles* Yes, you took the words out of my mouth. I offered congratulations to the prince and princess personally, of course. But I thought you would be excited. Olivier: That is not easy to do. I work hard to be so. *He chuckled, then nodded at her.* Naturally, that is just good manners. But...Yes, I am. My brother and I weren't entirely...Sure we could be parents, in truth. Helena: Because of how you were born? *She phrased it like a question because she didn't want to be assuming despite the fact that she knew* It must be a relief to know now. Olivier: That's a polite way of putting it. *He smiles sideways at her, despite the delicate nature of the subject. Something he had been fighting frankly his entire life.* Yes, because of how we were born. And...Thank you for not asking if Tony had repeated the steps. I'm sure the King would like to send Lady Stuart again to make sure. Helena: I can be polite when I choose. *smiles as well* Prince Antonio is not your father, I would never say such a thing. *She had briefly considered it when she first learned of the news but then she weighed the facts and her instinct and decided that it couldn't be true* He wouldn't risk offending the Princess, and by extension another monarchy. Olivier: A useful talent. *He laughed, bemused. The fact his brother had become a prince was still bizarre to him. And he'd made it happen. And if you think Tony had not taken every opportunity to lord over him the new title...* Tony will be delighted to hear you say so. Though you have a point. By which you mean your mother will stop him from doing so. *He paused.* And yes, it is a relief. I had not relished our line ending with us...No matter how many at court may wish it. Helena: No *she shakes her head and gently corrects* I mean my mother has already stopped him. *she smiles and then nods* Your line already continues, even if it's likely they will have Stefanie's last name. Olivier: Ah, your mother remains as tactful as she is wise. *He chuckled, taking his hand back and turning to look at her. It's a distracting move; the way Helena's hair beneath her diadem was fluttering on the breeze captured his attention, made him forget he no longer saw his brother as often as he once had.* It has other advantages. It also means I need not worry that were I to wed I would be dooming a woman to a childless life. Helena: *A smidge bashful under his continued gaze, Helena tucked her hair behind her ear and inclined her head* The Duke of Canterdon, brother of prince Antonio, brother in law to the heiress apparent royal highness Stefanie Ricard, fully capable of giving a woman children. *She teased* Who could resist that? Olivier: *Holds his hand up and says behind it as if to say 'dont tell anyone' or 'its a secret but-', grinning,* I'm also an excellent card-player if I say so myself, and unashamed savant of gentlemen's clothing. *He wiggled both eyebrows.* And were I someone else, I may take this opportunity to ask if you were having such trouble resisting, but I would not presume. Or at least...Not so baldly. Helena: Ah, is that so? *Helena examines his clothing and nods in agreement there.* We'll have to see about your card playing. *Chuckles and notes* And yet here you are, asking indirectly. *grins* And what better way to answer an indirect question than to ignore it entirely? Olivier: You know, why am I not surprised you play? *When she took the moment to examine his clothing, he smiled, pleased and feeling his chest puff up. Look, Helena had knocked him off his proverbial horse, so to speak, a fair few times; he was relieved to see he could still be himself a little. Encouraging her to look at him also helped take her mind off the fact she was self-conscious about how he'd been looking at her.* Sure, if you want to take the easy way. I was under the impression you never do, however. Helena: Perhaps you're getting to know me well, after all. *That fact was nerve-wracking.* And now you've made it so if I don't answer, I'll be stepping down from a challenge! You know, you don't get nearly enough credit for your wit. *Helena grinned. It was a comment you would most likely hear from a man to a woman, after all, not vice versa.* Olivier: I can only hope some day that may be true. *Did he detect a flicker of her heartbeat, or was that wishful thinking? Considering her compliment -- which continued to evade his question graciously -- he thought it wasnt out of line for him to believe the former. Dangerous to him or not -- didn't he live for danger, after all?* Ah but your reputation of accomplishment with the artful dodge is meanwhile, quite well deserved. Helena: *At least he still had some modesty leftover as to admit he didn't truly know her well. She shouldn't be surprised, he'd never dare to assume with her, after all. That was her.* Why, thank you. Though I never deny myself an opportunity for outright rejection when it presents itself. *She didn't add anything else. It wasn't that subtle.* Olivier: *And did he dare deny that obvious challenge from her? Bemused, he could not help but think she did know him a little better than he knew her. She was duplicitous. He liked that. And she smiled as she challenged him, so...He would rise to that, from hope.* If I'm going to ask, I'm not going to underplay, princess. *His gaze flits down.* May I kiss you? Helena: *If she were honest with herself, and she always strove to be, she'd been hoping he'd ask. Even with that hope, his words still caught her by surprise. Or maybe it was...excitement. She licked her lips and gazed at his* You may. But you do so at your own risk. Olivier: I think you're going to find, *he said as he takes a few deliberate steps towards her, words quieting as he did, one hand going up to her hair, the other gently taking her hand. The rest of the way, he pulled her in to him, letting her come to him, drawing her up to his lips as he finishes,* I enjoy living with risk. *As if he'd ever had another choice, some voice whispered, but it vanished the moment their lips met. He moved his mouth against hers with deliberate, slow, sweeps of his tongue, determined to savor the moment. Whatever happened, she tasted of berries and the wine they had shared and her lips were smooth, her skin soft to the touch. It simply wasn't every day one kissed a princess.* Helena: *There was risk for her as well. Otherwise, her heart wouldn't have fluttered as she approached him and closed the distance between them. His fingers felt like active magic on her skin. For a moment, she didn't think she was breathing and she hated him for it. Then his lips met hers and she forgot her hesitation. Kissing him felt right. It felt good. She felt herself pressing closer against him, placing her free hand atop his chest. She had forgotten to breathe after all. She pulled away, barely, to catch her breath, her eyes still closed. When they fluttered open she looked at him and swallowed. She worried that if she spoke, her voice would tremble. Out of fear, out of excitement, she couldn't say. Either of them were still dangerous. She had so many questions but also a desire for a simple moment to enjoy. Trouble was, he (and the kiss) was anything but simple. She exhaled, warm and still against his lips, and asked* Do you ever feel like you can't quiet your mind no matter how badly you want to? Olivier: *He let her pull back, though he kept one hand loose in her grasp. Fingers toying with hers as they looked at one another, ascertaining they had both had the same moment: the same surprise, lust, desire. There was meaning in their long look. Nodding absently as he glanced down at her fingers, he admitted,* All the time. I spend quite a lot of time engaging myself in puzzles and difficult books, just to shut it up. *There was another way, of course, but hadn't he scares her enough for one afternoon?* Helena: *She nodded, understanding perfectly and then, almost sheepishly, remarking* I don't think those tactics are quite going to work, right now. *She swallowed, a smile on her lips as she looked at him. Olivier D'Grey may leave her breathless, as he just proved, but it was going to take a bit more to leave her speechless* I want to kiss you again. You must understand why that...*she exhales again* conflicts me. Do you? Olivier: *With a gentle lilting tease, he shook his head,* I must be slower to grasp why a princess should not do precisely what she wants to do. *His hand lifts from her cheek, turning her head up and brushing a thumb over her bottom lip as he considers.* Though I concede...I am dangerous. I simply think there is no conflict as you, your highness, are possibly more dangerous than I. Helena: I would ask what kind of princess you're acquainted with, but...*her words faded as his fingers brushed against her cheek and mouth. She fought an instinct to close her eyes, to draw his finger between her lips. Was he fighting an instinct with her as well?* Flatterer. *she grins, but she can't help but enjoy it. She'd never been considered dangerous before, unless handsy men were referring to her treatment of their shins* Do I scare you? Olivier: Stefanie is hard to forget, yes. *Despite his words, he said them carelessly, as if he did not recall her face or indeed any besides the one he held. His thumb paused between her open lips.* Does this surprise you? Helena: It shouldn't. *Every word she spoke further brushed her lips against his finger.* It's only danger that catches this much of your attention. Closely followed by power, which I have a certain amount of... Olivier: Ahh, Helena, *he says her name now void of any title and has to admit: it was a thrill.* Now you speak as one who knows me well. *She had a point, of course, and her power was not incumbent only on her father, but equally her demonstrated skill with a language and magic long forbidden. They had only barely brushed the surface of this. Not coincidentally, he brushes her lips again.* And if you know me, you know the reason I guard against such. My attentions, once captured, do not wander. *Quietly, he offered,* This time, kiss me. Helena: *Her name from his lips elicited the same shiver down her spine as his hands had. Her gaze fell to his lips at his request. Could she be so forward? Of course, she was rarely anything else. But she was hesitant with the amount of trust he placed on her, and at once ready to prove herself. She moved his hand away from her mouth and cupped his neck with her own. Leaning up on her toes, Helena closed her eyes and kissed him. She wanted to quiet her own mind and his, to stomp all those shared fears away and leave their want behind. Because she did want him, and she believed he wanted her too.* Olivier: *His mouth met hers eagerly, willing to yield to any direction she chose to pursue. He was impressed - even a slight bit incensed - with her skill, considering it meant she either was the most talented natural kisser in the world, or she had done this before. If he was being utterly honest (not his usual purview, to be sure) he may even be more scared at the prospect this was natural talent; an expression of a connection between them both real and vital. When she pulled back this time, it was much slower, and he smiled wider at her.* I believe we may have an enjoyable way to absolve your conflict. Helena: *She smiled in return and nodded, her cheeks flushed and her lips plump* I believe you're right. *There would be plenty of conflict later, but again, she didn't want to worry about it now.* Would you object to a more private location? Olivier: *That perked his eyebrow up in genuine surprise. For all he had asked -- ordered, really, if gently and with obvious deference -- her to be more forward, that was...A fast turnaround. And he was too ...Aware of his shortcomings, to believe he genuinely had turned her around that fast. But hell, this is what he lived for, right?* No objections. What did you have in mind? |
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| Olivier D'Grey | Mar 14 2017, 10:14 AM Post #6 |
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Ebenezer Scrooge
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Helena: Father, you musn't! *Her voice was insistent and hushed. She learned a long time ago that the quieter you spoke, the more likely you were to be overheard, but she also learned that it didn't matter how banal the topic of conversation was, if she and her family were speaking of it, it was going to garner attention either way. 'I did not know that the prince and princess had *come* to our court, i was *offering* the services of our celebrated healer to *check*...." Helena snorted, a very unlady like sound she couldn't be bothered to be ashamed of.* Even if you only had the purest of intentions, father, you must realize how badly it would look. Princess Stefanie and Prince Antonio had been nothing but our steadfast allies, as has been Duke Olivier, and they would see this as an insult. Because, frankly, it is. They are not their father. Just like you're not grandfather, Goddess grant him eternal rest. Vlad: Sister, it's not about sentimentality or manners. *Vlad spoke even quieter than Helena, and hadn't spoken at all until now. It was almost surprising- Vlad preferred to listen rather than speak when he shadowed their father.* Remington D'Grey was a vampire, his sons are half vampires, and their children might not be natural. Helena: And you're willing to risk an international situation over it? Because that's certainly what it's going to be if you ask to poke around the heiress apparent's vagina. Vlad: *groans* Helena, honestly. Helena: Ask Adelina herself, she's seen the brothers before. They're not...undead or perpetually frozen in time, they're alive, they're warm and hot blooded and there's nothing about them that would indicate they couldn't have natural born children. Vlad: Save for unsavory rumors regarding their diet. If they have nothing to hide, then they should have nothing to fear. We have to be certain- Helena: You mean like they were so certain before, when they performed the same examinations and found nothing initially? *she looked back at her father* If Remington was smart, Olivi- Duke Olivier is smarter. And I don't mean smarter to get away with it, I mean smarter to never try it. They wouldn't jeopardize the standing they've clawed their way back up to, the prince wouldn't jeopardize the princess's health. A child is being born into a family that can't wait to receive him or her! This is a happy occasion. *Helena was aware that she was speaking both very familiarly of the D'Greys, and very abruptly to the King of Yei Tir, her loving and doting father. She cleared her throat and looked .* You promised. Damocles: *There was a reason that they had found nothing before; Remington - Goddesses have mercy had his soul - had sacrificed his own servants to make it appear so and volunteered his wife to the inspections. Despite his promise to his daughter, he had not expected the prince and princess to be visiting his court. It seemed to him an opportunity, even if his own sister had cautioned him that she had found nothing untoward in their chambers. Yet it was not their new allies 'happy occasion' that was now on his mind. Slow, he might be, but anyone could see now the familiarity with which Helena was speaking about the man. He cleared his throat, interrupting his son, from continuing the argument,* Enough, please. I am well aware what the Duke has done for this Kingdom. *And -to- his kingdom, but he kept that to himself. What's more, his heart couldn't help glowing with pride at the fact his daughter was speaking (and so eloquently) of protecting their alliance.* I would not want to anger them. There are other ways, *he looked to Vladimir now,* to assure our border and internal security. Helena is right, it was intelligence gathering, not our inspection, that uncovered treason before. I want to study this...phenomenon of vampire's procreation, but there will be another way. *Turning back to Helena, he nodded, pretending not to notice how pleased she actually appeared,* I will keep my word. *He should wait for Maeve for this, but he couldn't help but ask,* Your new familiarity with the Duke...This was gained on your tour, of course? Olivier: *Unknown to the quarrelling family - though he could not help but smirk at the mention of 'intelligence gathering' - he had seen the princess approach the study in a huff. In point of fact, he had initially intended on nothing more than comforting her, before realizing exactly why she was chasing down her father and brother in a corridor. Ducking in to a nearby alcove in the castle, he had stayed utterly still as she launched into what...appeared a full-throated defense of him. His own throat was dry as he focused on listening. Unsavoury, there was that word again. He knew the rumors would confirmed on that matter - the Princess Abira was exceedingly talented at her job and Lady Irene could tell a tale or two. The son's contempt was something to watch; he knew that it was the Queen, understanding too well considering her own sister, who had always given he and his brother the benefit of trust. With his perpetual eye on the future, the Prince's words were dangerous to him, if most so in their disgust only. He knew they were in no danger. After all, he'd like to see - another fond smirk crossed his lips - them try to 'poke around Stefanie's vagina.' Ah, there was the question. Honestly, it took the king a long time to notice how clearly his daughter had been speaking of him. Olivier's hand brushed over his lips in memory.* Helena: *She watched pleased as Vlad was cut off from further argument by their father. She hid the extent of her smile just as Vlad hid the extent of his scowl. Her brother was assuaged however with the fact their father clearly had other plans, plans he would share with him. Sometimes it took a needle, not a hammer.* Thank you, father. *Her smile, however, was taken off her face at her father's question catching her off guard.* Oh. Well, yes and no. Vlad: *He snorted, but after a glance from Helena didn't say a word. They'd already talked about this, after all. But this wasn't his conversation, or his matter to speak on. Not to their father, anyways.* Helena: *She folded her hands together in front of her skirt and kept her chin lifted high* The Duke and I have spent some time together here at court, and at the town. *And at his estate more than once but that was too much honesty right now* I enjoy our conversations and his company. *She nodded and eagerly hoped her visage was not betraying her by coloring her cheeks.* Is that a problem? *Her eyebrows rose in challenge before she seemed to realize who she was speaking to and strove once again for demure.* Damocles: *His eyebrows and chin both rose as she clearly sought to challenge him - a fact she caught belatedly. If he had not been particularly keen on spying on the D'Greys before, now his daughter's blush would have him ready to haul both of them in, pregnant princess or not. He glanced sideways - clearly his son already was aware of this. (But that wasn't surprising, what wasn't the King the last to know?) Looking forward once more, he forced a delicate smile to his face,* I don't know, is it a problem? Has something happened I should be aware of, daughter? Olivier: *He should stop listening now, no matter how it concerned him. Just walk out of the alcove, turn the corner and make it as though he had not been listening, nor using the jewels adorning his collar for that purpose. He could sell that and save them the - who was he kidding, he wasn't moving. Apart from his lips, which were smiling.* Helena: *Why on earth could she be so talented at playing cards and so utterly hopeless at trying to conceal something from her father? Probably because she rarely did. Her family had enough secrets to keep from their country and people without needing to keep secrets from each other as well. Helena also knew how secrets threatened her father and his sisters once a long time ago. She wasn't going to lie to her father.* Well, in your own vague words father "something has happened", however, I reject the premise that you should be made aware of it. Damocles: *At that, he honestly could not help but smile. It was in spite of himself, but her awkwardness followed by such careful diplomatic phrasing only served to remind him how very many times his sisters had rejected similar premises. Sighing, he gestured,* I reserve the right to revisit this subject with your mother, then, both as your King and as your father. *Though neither could actually make her tell him anything clearly.* For now, you may go, as you so clearly wish to. *It was kindly put, even as he beckoned Vladimir continue to follow him.* Helena: That's fair. *She nodded, knowing that was the best answer she was going to get, and eager to leave her father and brother now that she was sure they weren't going to do something ridiculous. She curtsied-* Thank you, father. *-and turned to leave, sticking her tongue out at Vlad as he wiggled her eyebrows at her. &. Out of their sight, Helena exhaled and rubbed at her cheeks. Now out of their gaze, her blush threatened to catch up to her. Which she quickly realized as she spotted a familiar figure, had been the absolute wrong timing. For there was the Duke, lying in wait around the corner. Duke D'Grey rested on his shoulder against the stone, toying with the label of his collar. He looked relaxed, utterly at ease, and not at all as if they just had evaded an international incident regarding his sister in law's pregnancy (and vagina). "My lord, what a", -coincidence?-, "surprise." "Your highness." Olivier echoed, inclining his head in the customary bow. Actually, if she was being honest - hah - he was bowing a little further than strictly necessary. The princess was wearing a lovely new gown. "You will find I have an uncanny ability to be aware of where people are speaking of me, my princess. In fact I daresay a Lady is speaking of me three corridors over at this very moment." He had to be making that up. Helena pursed her lips together, both impressed by his apparent ability and conflicted over the fact he had clearly eavesdropped on a conversation by the royal family. Not that she hadn't already admitted to herself there was no way that was going to stay private -- it was court. She didn't, however, expect it to be overheard by said subject of the conversation. He wiggles both eyebrows. "I thank you, for avoiding the unfortunate event of my sister in law being asked to display her..." Olivier tilted his head back straight, winking at her. Her conflict immediately distracted, Helena laughed, passing a quick hand over her face. Yes, she had spoken bluntly. Helena smiled. "You're welcome." The princess dropped her hand and folded them in front of her lap again before speaking 'graciously', "And I suppose I can overlook your indiscretion given the fact that our conversation took place in a public setting, and no measures were taken to keep it private." "That is most gracious of you." Olivier inclined his head, "As some might say that the royal family should be afforded extra privacy regardless of walls. Admittedly, I believe you are aware my 'unsavoury' reputation for the opposite." He leaned off the wall. After a quick glance in both directions - eying servants, the milling courtiers at the East end (the road to the King's private study was never truly private) - the Duke looked back to her. "Would you object to further privacy for us?" Helena bit her lip to keep herself from saying his name. Vlad, royal prat, had been, as usual, completely tactless. She wanted to tell him she didn't believe in rumors anyways...well, not unless they were coming from reliable sources, of which Vlad wasn't. He had his 'spymaster in training' Sienna for that. She opened her mouth to say something but he had already spoken. "I think you just proved how hopeless that could be, but no, I don't object at all." She wanted to ask, he could see that. Olivier extended his hand offering to take hers, a bit hesitantly. Would she be adverse to his touch now? Her brother's words were a reminder, however small, of what she had already seen. There was no hiding his instinctual reaction to blood being spilled. Helena took his hand with a smile. Like she'd told her father and brother before, it was warm, like the rest of him. It brought her back to the last time he held her hand and how it had been without consideration of what others thought. When they had relocated to a nearby music room, he let the door shut and cast a small spell to guard against eavesdropping. Admittedly, there was no truly private room at court, but the longer they had been walking in the hallway, the more people would have spotted them anyways. Turning back to her, he hovered near a bench and then gestured that she sit with him - after her, of course, he would not make the princess stand to his presence. "I meant my gratitude, your highness. Your defense was...unexpected," he aid. The Duke was hesitant now, in a way she hadn't seen before. She was concerned and therefore patient (well to a point. Princesses didn't do well with being denied, after all). She sat on the bench and watched him follow her. "Is it really so surprising for me to offer it?" She watched his eyes. As his knees bend and he sits beside her, he glanced away at the piano behind them. Then he looked to his own clasped hands, bridging his knees. Helena realized, "It's surprising for you to receive it." It appeared his face had already spoken for him. Then he nodded, uncomfortable with voicing it. She was expectant, he could feel the princesses desire to know, yet he hesitated over phrasing, testing her patience and his own resolve. She could tell this was uncomfortable for him. He had admitted, in not so many words, that she scared him. This was not the first time he'd been vulnerable with her. "Olivier," she spoke softly, placing her hand delicately above one of his own, "you were right, I do know you. Because you've trusted me before and have allowed me to. I understand why you've needed to hide...but I sincerely hope you can see that you don't have to with me." His gaze -- quick to dart to where she touched him -- was slow to rise from her hand. It took the undeniable scenic route without appearing to take in anything but her comfort, like she was drawing him back from a place far off. With a voice remarkably roughened, Olivier said, "I do see that. Trusting it, however, that's a different story." He cleared his throat, then, with an expectant look himself he nodded at her. "Go ahead. Ask." What a loaded command. And that's certainly what it was. This time, however, she didn't bristle at an order. She wanted to know and he wanted to tell her. Specifically, what, however he was leaving up to her. And Helena had a lot of questions. She nodded, and chose one, "do you drink blood?" With every impression of a man who had steeled himself for an implosion or hidden knife, Olivier squeezed her hand for reassurance before he spoke. "Yes." Olivier said. It was unequivocal. His eyes were unblinking, her own like a does. Well, they were like a doe if deer ever sought out their predator with the intent to understand them. Olivier nodded at her, encouraged when she did not immediately pull away. "Not as frequently as it once was," He hedged, "but...you should know I never have the intention to give it up completely." Helena nodded through her small inhale. She'd been expecting the answer given the evidence she had seen with her own eyes, but it was an entirely different matter to have it confirmed. As with all answers to burning questions, it left Helena with additional information she wanted to know. "And how do you obtain that blood?" "I don't have fangs," he volunteered an answer to a slightly different question on the hunch that was what she was really asking. She hadn't let go or blinked away. The duke leaned on his knee, bracing his neck with the other hand as if in a reminder not to look at hers. "The knife you saw," Olivier nodded into his own hand, "it's in my breast pocket right now. I use it." "That's not-," Helena shook her head. It wasn't the answer she was looking for, though she was grateful for the acknowledge nevertheless. She had been correct when she had noticed during the spell how practiced he seemed with his blade. Her eyes fell to his pocket before she met his gaze again. "What I meant to ask is from who do you drink? Is that why the stories of your...conquests are so numerous?" A sheepish, in spite of himself, laugh peppered his answer. "I suppose you could say that is one of the reasons for that," though Olivier did not know if she truly wanted him confirming how...many conquests he had. As uncomfortable as he was, there had yet to be any disgust in her. Instead she was made of confusion and wariness. That boded well. Confirming numerous women in his bed seemed to foretell the opposite. "They know. A few servants in my employ, and I assure you they are well-compensated." Despite the truth that he was admitting, she laughed with him. This was a point she'd spoken of numerous times with her brother, with her ladies, with her cousins: the dichotomy of men being heralded for their conquests and women for their chastity. It was a paradox. Perhaps it was a conversation she and Olivier could have later. Helena wasn't lying when she told her father she enjoyed Olivier's conversation. For the first time she frowned with a twinge of jealousy. Helena didn't like the feeling. "So when did you last...do you say drink, or eat?" "Before I came to court with my brother was the last time I drank," He answered at once, evidently ready for this question. Of course that simultaneously gave her the answer of 'less than a fortnight', but he preferred his own phrasing. That was quite recent, Helena realized. That meant just a short couple of weeks ago, he had drank from one of his servants (that was well compensated for it, apparently, which only made it sound further like a transaction). Turning to her a little more, the bench moved beneath him with his haste. The duke paid it no mind. "Helena, you're frowning." Olivier pointed out, quiet, almost determined. "Am I upsetting you?" "No, not, about your drinking," Helena assured him, a little embarrassed, "it's silly. I suppose I'm curious, does it...mean something to you? Or is it more akin to...having some wine?" Confusion flit across Olivier's face, following fast the unmistakable relief. "It...well, it can." Olivier was sure to preface, clearing his throat. The addition of wine was strange for him, particularly as he undeniably focused on the, well, color of it. For obvious reasons, he preferred blood-red. Oh. He just got it. "Are you asking if I..." Helena cleared her throat, "I just wanted to know if it was a more casual or intimate activity. I'm not familiar with the practice, and what's said around court is either overly sexualized or frighteningly macabre." "Yes, I...understand." The corner of his mouth perked. Was it possible she was jealous? "The truth is somewhere in between." Olivier squeezed her hand again. "I ... prefer to take my time, but I do not want-" anymore," -- to make anyone feel uncomfortably intimate with me." He straightened up, determined not to look away even as he tried not to frighten her. "In my opinion, your highness, the act is closer to sexual than the macabre, but of course that depends on your familiarity with it." She was comforted by the fact he wanted to comfort her, and that he was so quick to do so. Helena nodded through the explanation, but then predictably began flushing. It was just hot here in this room without a lit fireplace, that's all. "Right. And this is because it's enjoyable to you, I'm assuming." "Extremely." That slipped out, so he felt it only fair and natural to follow up, "And not only to me." At least, that was his hope. Considering his only example had been a man who didn't care and his own experiences were mostly with damoyei witches or servants being paid too much to complain, he supposed there was no being certain. Daniella had claimed so, but...well, even her beloved cousin knew there was something wrong with her. (He thought that with all his fondness, he promised). "And...no one gets hurt?" Her voice was unusually small, hopeful, as she asked. What was he supposed to say to that, though? She was so hopeful. His hand fell from his neck. He took a deep breath, before admitting very quietly, "Not in a long time." Helena blushed even further, embarrassed by how easily she was affected. It wasn't like she was a stranger to this, not entirely. Then again, she'd never considered the thought of offering her blood before. And with one thrilling moment she realized, she already had. His answer wasn't what she wanted, but it was truthful, and therefore worth more. That's what she told herself. Helena exhaled and nodded. "Do you want to tell me about it?" He bit down on his lip. But they were going for honesty here, right? "Not particularly." Olivier took his own hand back now, straightening up and rubbing both legs. His gaze had gone over her shoulder, then back down to his shoes. It didn't seem to matter how hard he rubbed, or how quickly, his hands were still sweating. "It's just...not something I should relive, Helena, I'd much rather...well, I'd like to know what you're thinking. This isn't new for me, but it...is for you." Another answer she hadn't wanted but had been honest. Perhaps she should reconsider how great an alternative it really was. Helena exhaled, taking her now free hand back and rubbing the back of her neck. "I'm thinking that it makes sense that you would need and want to drink blood because your father was a vampire. I'm glad that those who know and give you blood are being compensated despite the fact it sounds like whoring. I'm curious about the process. I'm hesitant to believe how the person giving you blood derives pleasure from it. I'm relieved you don't have fangs. I'm upset that you've hurt people before." Helena sighed and nodded. Yes, that was what she was thinking in a nutshell. Olivier nodded, almost as if he was encouraging himself as much as her. Those were fair reactions, bolstered by the fact she still wasn't pulling away from him. "All of that is right," the Duke reported, as if a legal arbitrator. "And you'd be right to be afraid of me, or even disgusted. I am not proud of what I did when I was young, though I could argue that at eight years old -" "Eight?" Helena repeated in surprise. How frightening it must have been to learn all of this at eight years old, and not from being told of it, but experiencing it. Her curiosity remained but she could deprioritize it. He paused, not having meant to say his age. Olivier nodded. It was only good manners to acknowledge she had heard him correctly, but he quickly skipped on, literally hurrying his next words. Watching her eyes, quickly continued, "- I could argue it wasn't entirely my choice. Your fear would still be warranted. But here's what I know: I'm glad you're not." His words were soft and he reached for her once again, this time to brush a few strands of hair off her shoulder. "That curiosity, is the first of the reasons I can give pleasure in return, princess. Satisfying one's thirst is always enjoyable, no matter if it's intellectual or sensual." "I am not afraid of you," Helena put it into words, reassuring him, and then elaborated, "I am afraid of what it says about me that I'm not afraid." Why were emotions so complicated? "That's right too. I went through that myself." Olivier smiled and now his hand fell back to her lap, admitted dryly, "still do whenever my brother decides to point out he doesn't 'indulge', as we call it." "How does it feel like for you?" Seeking her hand to join with his, his words came slower now, ever mindful that his relief could be interpreted as an eagerness unfitting a princess. He spoke as he watched his own hand, fingers individually lacing with hers. "Hunger. It's ...as if I jump into a deep chasm of delirious delicious satisfaction. And it's...freeing, like I am...finally allowed to be me. It's to get enough of that feeling." So it was choice. Maybe it hadn't been a choice when Olivier was eight like he said but it was a choice now, one he already said he'd keep doing. Was this the choice that Daniella said he had chosen wrong on? She looked at their rejoined hands and then up to his face as he explained. In his eyes was a look similar to when they'd performed the spell to destroy the stone, but less intense. "It sounds," she searched for the word and settled on, "gratifying. And what do the people you feed from say they experience? Apart from compensatory." Despite an attempt to bite his tongue, his words slipped out anyway, "Mostly my name or title." Oh, she had actually asked about any descriptions of experience not...What they say during their experience. He caught that belatedly, along with his tongue. Lifting a hand to his mouth, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand and coughed just once. It didn't make his smirk go away. He did, at least, have the good sense not to say 'ask your cousin.' Helena's eyebrows furrowed in momentary confusion before understanding seemed to dawn on her. She rolled her eyes and despite herself even managed a chuckle. "Not what I meant." Helena didn't understand how a head rush or dizziness wouldn't be unpleasant. She recalled a similar feeling after imbibing a smidge too much of wine at school. "It depends," he hesitated. "From my own staff, they claimed various versions of what amounts to a head-rush. A bit of dizziness, but not unpleasantly so. But as I said, I take pains not to make it intimate any longer. With...them, at least." His gaze finally lifted as he delicately admitted, "With others...The word was 'spine-tingling'." She bit her lip and nodded, trying for 'casual consideration' and no doubt failing. "Ah, I see." Did she? Could she apply her own experiences (which were vastly less numerous) and accurately judge what he was talking about? No, not likely. In fact, Olivier explaining was hearsay. "You've never had anyone drink from you instead?" Helena didn't see how he could but she couldn't be sure. That took him aback, judging on his repeated blink and chin lift. At least she wasn't still (or perhaps it was "yet") asking about his eight-year old self, he supposed. Still, his brow furrowed before her slowly shook his head. "I have, actually." A quick flick of his tongue wet his mouth again. "My--" mentor, savior?--"friend, Briana." He waited a beat, then assured, "She's a hundred and fifty." A one hundred and fifty year old vampires friend. Drinking blood from your servants and paying them for it. An eight year old being exposed to violence. These were just a few of the outstanding characteristics that made up the normal life of Duke Olivier D'Grey. Was she a good listener and an understanding person, or was she just in shock? Time would tell. "And was it 'spine-tingling' with Briana?" He couldn't understand her calm, though he was beginning to think he was overwhelming her far past a healthy point. With one, sheepish giggle he shook his head. Even though his words said the opposite, he didn't want her getting that impression about his relationship with Bri. "Sure, but it's not that hard to be spine-tingling when you're fifteen and a guy." Olivier pointed out. He chewed on his lip, still feeling like the other shoe was going to drop soon. There was sort of a large question she'd left out - apart from hurting anyone. Helena chuckles with him, "yes, that sounds about right." That was another subject she'd broached with her ladies: the simplicity of male pleasure. Irene had had a lot of anecdotes that night (but then again she always did). She could order him to tell her about the incident when he was eight years old. It wouldn't work and it would completely destroy all the trust they'd been building, however, so it wasn't even an option. But she wanted to know. "I'm assuming Daniella knows about this." "Yeah," a reluctant, still sheepish grin crossed his lips, "for the record, I was doing my best to leave your cousin out of this discussion." Or more accurately, he may have been leaving her opinions out of this discussion. He bit down on his lip, then admitted, "Though it would be overstating to say she knows...of everything." Shifting again on the bench, he struggled a moment, then broached, "Helena, is there a bar in this room?" Helena shrugged, "it wasn't you who brought her up, so you didn't fail." A small, vain part of herself was pleased to hear her cousin wasn't entirely in the know. It didn't last for long, however, given that Helena knew she also wasn't entirely in the know. "By the harp," Helena motioned with a hand. She didn't move as he poured himself a glass, declining one for herself despite the fact her throat was drying. She looked up at him and asked, "do you want to drink from me?" Olivier's hand naturally stilled so that even the pace of his pour seemed to slow down. Without turning around, he brought the glass up to his mouth and took in a heavy inhale of the whiskey. It did nothing to truly chase away the imagery she called to mind: Helena in black and white lace, her tiara permanently afixed though her hair was a mess, tangled in his hand, the other bracing her throne as he curled her delicate olive neck to his mouth. He took a sip. "No." Olivier said, turning back to her. His eyes had darkened with desire. "Nothing so transactional. I would savor whatever intimacies you chose to share," the Duke inclined his head in a teasing gesture of a bow, "princess." His initial refusal might have upset her had she not recognized the want in his gaze. What he had attempted to hide when they casted together was brought to the surface. It worsened her drying throat. The memory of lips on her own threatened to make her shiver. "Good answer," she complimented him. Again, Olivier might leave her breathless, but he wouldn't leave her speechless. "Honesty does that," he admitted. Helena stood and stepped towards him. She didn't drop his gaze no matter how intense. As she approached, Olivier took careful note of each step, still holding himself perfectly still. He could hear the stacatto in her heart, a desire mirrored there that matched his own and intrigued him. Unlike her, he did not worry what her understanding may mean about who she was. "I've got a few more questions but I think you've shared enough for today." Helena noted his drink, the way he'd let go of her hand minutes before actually standing, and pulled away from her. She reached for his hand again, "if there's something else you need to get off your chest right now, or if you'd rather not have this conversation stretch out past today then say it. Though I will warn you, regardless, I will most likely have more questions later." He let her take his hand, a thumb caressing her pulse as he held on. The gentle command from his princess made a smile cross his lips that -- sorry brother, there was no way his 'shark' teeth didn't show. "I would never presume to tell you what you cannot ask, Helena." Olivier said. He took another sip, twisted to put the glass down without looking away or letting go. He'd had her approach him this far; he took the last step in and brought a hand to caress her face. As it fell, he added, "And you should ask more questions if and when we indulge. This trust is...precious, Helena. And in the interest of not building upon it...Of you continuing to defend me, and then you feeling betrayed later..." He took a steadying breath. "You should know: I have killed." This statement was not so out of the question in a kingdom where petty farming squabbles could turn to war and magic complicated everything. Helena's father had killed, her mother had, her aunt. But all the same Olivier knew this was not quite the same. "I know this isn't fair of me to ask," he continued, his hand coming up again to cup her cheek and his voice quiet, "but can you trust that one day I may tell you the story, and not ask about it now?" No, she was the one who presumed. Wasn't her questioning of him just that, even if he was the one who initiated it. If and when. She might have teased him about his certainty but there's no fooling either of them. Her curiosity was apparent as was her willingness just voiced. Helena exhaled at his admission. Unsurprisingly, it only brought forth more questions, specifically regarding the circumstances. Helena hoped she would never have to kill in defense of her country and people like her parents, but...it did not sound like that. That he should reveal it now meant it was probably closely tied to his drinking blood. "No it's not," she agreed, only slightly appeased by his caresses, "just try not to keep me waiting for too long." "Thank you for confiding in me as much as you did." There was palpable relief on Olivier's face, and for a moment he seemed quite beside himself with uncertainty. The trust she offered him was only more precious to think she would not demand immediate satisfaction to his challenge, which only raised more questions. And Helena was smart enough to know he was not exactly referring to self-defense. He was only uncertain a moment. Lifting his other hand with hers he clasped both cheeks and leaned down to kiss her forehead with his exuberance, his delight. Then he nods, forehead resting on hers, still gently toying with strands of hair. "I won't. Nor will I betray your trust." He whispered near her mouth. "Though right now I am more curious in other things I may offer you, in my ever-present gratitude." Any potential worry or regret over her decision melted away as she saw the palpable relief on his face and felt him further draw her in instead of pull away. Her eyes closed as he kissed her forehead, opening in a haze under his words and touch. Her hands, previously holding on to his upper arms, made a slow descent to wrap around his waist, only lifting from his body to ensure with a spell all entrances (including the secret one) were locked from entry. "Thankfully, your Princess has some ideas," she admitted with a smile before she closed the short distance between their mouths and kissed him. "Does she?," Olivier breathed out before their mouths met. There was an air of bemusement, as if the Duke found it humourous, the idea of someone telling him what to do. But if he wasn't used to it, neither was he against it, his arms folding around her upper back as he pulled his princess into the embrace. Their bodies pressed up against each other, curves meeting, silk and satin rustling, mouths dancing. He teased her lips open with a lick of her bottom lip, plunging tongue past the willing opening and delving into the warmth he found. They both were warm, warmer than they had any right to be after their conversation where he had made no apologies and she had offered no regrets. He didn't let her break away at first, kissing her every time she pulled back to speak and interrupting half a dozen starts to sentences. Then, abrupt, he gripped her shoulders and spun her back into him. Helena gasped. One hand held her hip as the other traced her neck. He's distracted placing a long kiss against the open, vulnerable expanse of her throat, only stopping when he felt her shiver. "You didn't mean playing the piano together, I trust?" He whispered, breath tickling her ear. With a mouth open as she tried to regain her breath, Helena reached behind her to keep him close, and keep herself steady, with a hand on his own neck. The kiss, intimate even under normal circumstances, meant something additionally when she knew he also wanted the blood running through her veins and yet would wait. "Not my best instrument I'm afraid," she managed, eyes fluttering open again as her other hand covered his on her waist. She directed them down, curling their fingers to bunch up her skirts and get under them (because she was *not* ripping her pretty new dress). She continued to guide their hands to her center, the fabric of her slip still in the way but doing little to hide her arousal. Helena shivered against him again. "I was thinking you play me instead." With a mouth open as she tried to regain her breath, Helena reached behind her to keep him close, and keep herself steady, with a hand on his own neck. The kiss, intimate even under normal circumstances, meant something additionally when she knew he also wanted the blood running through her veins and yet would wait. "Not my best instrument I'm afraid," she managed, eyes fluttering open again as her other hand covered his on her waist. She directed them down, curling their fingers to bunch up her skirts and get under them (because she was *not* ripping her pretty new dress). She continued to guide their hands to her center, the fabric of her slip still in the way but doing little to hide her arousal. Helena shivered against him again. "I was thinking you play me instead." Her nails dug into his skin with another gasp, the hand over his own only pressing down further, silently urging him deeper. "That depends," she worried her already plump lips between her teeth as she struggled to keep her words comprehensible, "entirely on your skill, my lord." Edited by Olivier D'Grey, Mar 14 2017, 10:16 AM.
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| Olivier D'Grey | Mar 17 2017, 04:41 PM Post #7 |
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Ebenezer Scrooge
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![]() ![]() Location: Olivier's Study Time: 1.5 Years before the Wedding If it weren't for the pleasure he took between her legs, Olivier's knees may have been complaining by now. He paid it no mind; their greatest danger came not from sore knees, but that if she kept making noises like that, Helena was going to find herself thrown on her back on the nearby cushions. One bare leg was over his shoulder, the other planted firmly on an embroidered rug. As his tongue worked her open underneath skirts and he palmed her ass to hold her in place, Olivier interpreted the sounds above to mean: "more", "now" and -- -- and his brother's name. Startled, distracted, dismayed - he pulled free, wiping his mouth off and glanced up. "Not that I don't like it when you get vocal-" Olivier started, then froze. Someone was laughing behind him - which, gee, he wondered who it was. "Oh Goddesses," Helena whimpered, no longer from pleasure but from overwhelming embarrassment. She quickly disentangled herself from Olivier (which proved difficult because he was almost entirely the reason she'd been able to stand before). She was mortified. And prince Antonio was still laughing. "I apologize your highness," Tony managed after clearing his throat, "to you directly, not my brother at all because this is hilarious." There was a smirk on his face. Helena was now on her own two feet, skirts back down, and with her hands no longer at Olivier's hair but trying to tame her own. Cheeks still flushed with remnants of arousal and new found frustration and shame, Helena fought an instinct to hide behind her hands and tried to look outraged instead of caught. Almost reading her mind, Tony clarified, "I did knock." Groaning - and just now painfully aware of his knees - Olivier knew his own cheeks were burning red as he pointed out, "And then you heard nothing and so you came in anyway, because of course you did, brother." "Well if I had heard her Highness in the throes of pleasure I wouldn't have come in. These eavesdropping wards are excellent. A shame the locking spells are lacking." Helena managed a scoff, though had not yet found her words. It didn't do anything to wipe the smirk off the younger D'Grey's face. Judging by Olivier's words, however, it was apparent this was common behavior for his brother. It was far from unprecedented; after all, Tony used to frequently sneak into his room when they were little and he was dodging their father. That, however, was not his concern right now. The blushing princess whose arousal he could still taste on his tongue (and getting himself from out from under them) he quickly retied his own undershirt, swearing in Italian under his breath. "Cazzo, Tonio, what did you think 'not to be disturbed' meant?" Actually, Olivier knew he had to think it meant this. Because if he'd thought he'd been indulging, Tony wouldn't have interrupted. Also, he should stop thinking about the potential of bloodsharing given his own arousal hadn't quite subsided yet. "'Come bother me, I'm up to my neck in paperwork.' I was only half correct." Tony grinned and restrained a giggle as Helena gasped. "The nerve!-" "Sorry, your Highness. That one is going to be funny looking back on it, I promise." Standing without turning around as if to shield Helena from view, he muttered, "You better have some international incident of note to interrupt us." Helena rubbed at her cheeks. "Of course I do, the king and queen are here." "What?!" All the color that was on her cheeks effectively left. "No, I'm sorry, that was unfunny-" Tony dodged a cushion aimed his way and despite his words laughed again. "I don't usually need a locking spell for my own study seeing as how you've left the country." Olivier retorted dryly. His hands were on his hips and he had twisted to say that while looking at his brother's face while -- still, facing forward. Just give it a minute. They were both worked up. The cushion broke his concentration in a good way though, making Olivier smirk in spite of himself. It helped that he hadn't believed her parents were there. Tony wouldn't have been the one toting the news; he'd have been accompanied by his wife wanting to dress him in something more 'royal appropriate.' Whatever that meant; Helena was royal and currently wearing little enough. Fetching his nearby robe and tossing it to her, he looked back to his brother at last. "I apologize for my brother's lack of decorum, your highness--" says the man previously on his knees for her, after all--"he learned to spite our father before he could crawl and I'm afraid the lesson stuck." "Oh of course where are my manners," Tony bowed, flourishing his hand, "your Highness." Suddenly more aware of her state of undress, Helena took Olivier's robe and put it on, standing taller. Or as tall as she could without her shoes. "I accept your apology, my lord, on behalf of your brother who clearly married above his station." "And how," Tony agreed, straightening again. "How..." But that was it, Tony didn't finish. Olivier blinked, utterly confused as Tony spoke. He must have been using a phrase from Vosmaya, because his brother was never happier than when he was referencing some cultural tidbit of populism that he got to educate him about. "Never mind, you're--" Olivier tried to gesture to the door, but his brother just kept grinning at him. For Zaira's sakes. "--you're, not leaving are you? What, do you think this is going to be a good time to get acquainted?" Although sure that had to happen sometime. He did have the Yei Tiri princess in his study. Tony moved further into the study, showing every intention of sitting in his brother's chair but enough decorum not to do so. He had affronted the princess enough. "No better time. I leave soon, brother. There are such few moments left for us to enjoy, we should cherish them." Helena summoned all her clothing to her hands once again and was in the process of putting them back on, though it was decidedly more difficult without her servants or ladies. Thankfully she'd kept the most annoying article, the bodice, on. "I'll soon be taking my leave then. -I- wouldn't want to impose." Helena looked at Antonio. "Of course we should," Olivier agreed with a long-suffering sigh and glance at the sky. At least that would appeal to his brother. Look, he appealed to their Goddesses! As the clothes started flying towards them, Olivier couldn't help but glare at his brother. It was a look that plainly said 'you see what you did, she's getting dressed.' His eyebrows didn't often need translating for Tony, who was giving his own look back of 'if you think I'm going to forget I saw you actually get on your knees for someone-' "Let me help you with that." Olivier followed her to his nearby screen, catching the last of her outerlayer before it hit her. "You should feel free to impose, princess." Olivier told her, plainly. "I'd start with inquiring what's happened to his own wife, but I have the inkling it has to do with the cat my manservant's daughter recently adopted. She just had kittens, I believe?" "Maybe instead I should inquire over how often you require getting dressed in your study to warrant a changing screen being in it," Helena spoke quietly, intending on Olivier being the only one who heard her but Tony's chuckle said otherwise. The perks of being half vampire, she gathered. "Which does not explain why the kittens would be here, Olivier, unless you purposefully put them on my path knowing I can't stand them. I hope you're happy- the Princess is determined to adopt one and bring it with us." Helena smirked, pleased she wasn't the only one inconvenienced, as Olivier helped her into her petticoat. He was almost as talented at putting on clothes as he was taking them off. She restrained a shiver. His fingers brushed his lower back as he laced her up. Yep, his mouth was perfectly dry and yup, he did not have any intention on bringing up why he had the changing screen in here. (Hint: It had more to do with the portrait hanging behind them having a false back). Calling out, "D'aww, Antonio, surely the Princess wouldn't want to split the family up? Though I cannot deny to a bemusement at your predicament -" He tugged the laces, hard, "-yes." Leaning down, he kissed Helena's cheek once in a wordless apology. Helena cut off her own gasp of surprise (and intrigue, she couldn't deny, of his handling) with a bite of her lower lip. She was only half appeased by his kiss so she only slapped his arm with half of her strength as she turned around. "Which incidentally was why the kittens were here - I would not have their mother taken from them, and the daughter would not travel without them. So, see, I'm actually the hero in this story." He winked at Helena. "How honorable, brother," Tony teased as the Princess and Olivier reemerged from behind the screen, "your kindness is unmatched." "Not only his kindness," Helena took a seat and waited for the brothers to do the same before she spoke again. "Your brother speaks highly of you, your Highness." "All lies." Tony smirked. "I am currently not inclined to disagree." Olivier let her push him away, only widening his smirk at the smack. It wasn't inclined to fade, despite the appearance of his brother and the fact he'd just had to help the princess get dressed -- spoiling the mood, and ruining his plans for the afternoon. Wasn't his brother talented? He'd had every intention of introducing them later... "I do not lie," Olivier objected, taking the seat nearest the desk and thanking whichever Goddess felt the need to demand worship at the moment that his brother had not taken his chair. "I may have been mistakenly blinded by affection for my baby brother," Olivier clarified, fixing his collar, "but I am not a liar. So." He leaned back in the chair and then lifted a hand up to rest on Helena's chairarm as well, offering it if she wanted. "Because that's what the Duke of Canterdon is known for: honesty," Tony teased, eyes briefly narrowing at his brother's 'familiarity' (which in reality was just plain refusal to use his title). "Did you hear all those dips and turns in that sentence, Princess?" "He is most flexible," Helena remarked, looking at Olivier and seeing his outstretched hand. A warmth spread through her, different than earlier and enjoyable in a different way. With a smile on her lips, she took his hand. "If we're getting acquainted -- how does it feel knowing you're about to be a father, brother? And you can speak freely -- Princess Helena is aware of our peculiarities." "Oh?" Tony's eyebrows shot up as he looked Helena. She was smiling and holding her brother's hand. Well, now she was just returning his look in a challenging tone. Tony smiled. "I'm ecstatic. And terrified. I always dreamed but never thought...," Tony nodded, "I'm truly blessed." Helena's expression softened until she was smiling again. Pleased as she took his hand, Olivier squeezed once in reassurance (more for himself than her) and adjusted his seat again. He should have gone behind the desk. Any time he was brushing up against Helena's skin in anyway, it just seemed to be a recipie for...well. His thumb started caressing her pulse as he considered that. "You did," Olivier confirmed, teasing, "your highness. And just to keep my honest streak going here," he nodded, "it points to our being more normal than we thought after all, no?" As normal as any two sons of a vampire and practitioner - formerly - of blood magic could ever be. "I'm glad for you," Olivier said. His voice was soft. "You're going to be a good one, you know. If how well you take care of your princess is any indication." |
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| Angela Young | Mar 17 2017, 09:56 PM Post #8 |
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The Corrupter
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"Oooh, what are those?!" Irene reached the flowers before Helena could, their previous conversation entirely forgotten. Irene lifted the orange hydrangeas in the air. "I wonder who these are from? There's no card." Irene outstretched the flowers to Helena with a wiggle of her eyebrows, making it clear she knew as well as Helena exactly who left them there. Helena took them with a smile, passing her a delicate finger over the petals. With a smile still on her face, Helena passed them back to Irene. "Will you take these to my servants and have them distribute an individual flower to every member of my royal guard? After taking one for themselves, of course." Irene took them, clearly perplexed. Her lady in waiting was never one for subtlety. "Are you sure? I'm not one for romance usually but these are beautiful." Helena nodded, "indeed. Imported from the East, grown in the Duke's personal garden. He showed them to me, at my request, before playing with me in the fountain, all while my dear cousin was in his bedroom at that very moment." Irene snickered, barely holding back laughter. Instead she played up shock and aghast. "How horrid!" Helena rolled her eyes, "it's not that Daniella was there- alright, it's not primarily that Daniella was there. It was that Daniella remarked about it, believing that I would already know. And she was right, I should have. I'm the royal Princess, I do not get made a fool of." Irene nodded, smiling wide, "understood, my lady. You're really taken with him aren't you?" Helena lifted her eyebrows, her smile small but pleasant. "Please, before they start wilting, Irene." Edited by Angela Young, Mar 17 2017, 09:56 PM.
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| Olivier D'Grey | Mar 18 2017, 10:30 PM Post #9 |
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Ebenezer Scrooge
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![]() otp: i don’t need your crown, i have my own 01. FOR THE PRINCESS, WHO ISN’T EASILY IMPRESSED There’s a human in your heart of hearts Hiding true colours made you fall apart In the mirror you’re a work of art But this is real life, real life 02. AFTER THEIR FIRST KISS i should just walk away, but i can’t move my feet i didn’t know i was starving, til i tasted you 03. FOR THE DUKE WHO NEVER KNEW WHAT HE NEEDED i used to kill for fun, we’re filthy rich on the tail end of love you made me feel again; after the last time, didn’t think that i could love 04. FOR THE WOMAN WHO DEMANDS AS MUCH AS HE DOES OF HER The way she shows me I’m hers and she is mine Open hand or closed fist would be fine Blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine. 05. UNDER THE SHEETS you’re the fear (i don’t care) cause i’ve never been so high you’re the light, you’re the night (you’re the color of my blood) you got me begging, begging, i’m on my knees (i’ll let you set the pace) 06. FOR THE WOMAN WHO KNOWS WHO SHE IS, WHO SHE HAS my boy builds coffins, for the rich and the poor kings and queens have all knocked on his door beggars and liars, gypsies and thieves they all come to him cause he’s so eager to please 07. FOR THE PRINCESS & THE DUKE WHO COULDN’T HELP THEMSELVES would it be a sin, if i can’t help falling in love with you? like a river flows surely to the sea, darling so it goes 08. FOR THEIR MARRIAGE don’t you think it’s time for you and me to make some history? tell me now what you say, cause we can take anything i believe that i can make you scream, for me. 09. …but first the shipwreck (for them on the islands) take me to your garden of your ecstasy, i’ll make myself a headband from your fallen leaves, woven in the fabric of your tapestry, cover me in honeysuckle memories if we make it out alive from the depths of the seas compass points you anywhere, closer to me |
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| Olivier D'Grey | Mar 22 2017, 04:39 PM Post #10 |
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Ebenezer Scrooge
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Location - At Court Timing - Probably about 6-7 months after they met. "Oooh, what are those?!" Irene reached the flowers before Helena could, their previous conversation entirely forgotten. Irene lifted the orange hydrangeas in the air. "I wonder who these are from? There's no card." Irene outstretched the flowers to Helena with a wiggle of her eyebrows, making it clear she knew as well as Helena exactly who left them there. Helena took them with a smile, passing her a delicate finger over the petals. With a smile still on her face, Helena passed them back to Irene. "Will you take these to my servants and have them distribute an individual flower to every member of my royal guard? After taking one for themselves, of course." Irene took them, clearly perplexed. Her lady in waiting was never one for subtlety. "Are you sure? I'm not one for romance usually but these are beautiful." Helena nodded, "indeed. Imported from the East, grown in the Duke's personal garden. He showed them to me, at my request, before playing with me in the fountain, all while my dear cousin was in his bedroom at that very moment." Irene snickered, barely holding back laughter. Instead she played up shock and aghast. "How horrid!" Helena rolled her eyes, "it's not that Daniella was there- alright, it's not primarily that Daniella was there. It was that Daniella remarked about it, believing that I would already know. And she was right, I should have. I'm the royal Princess, I do not get made a fool of." Irene nodded, smiling wide, "understood, my lady. You're really taken with him aren't you?" Helena lifted her eyebrows, her smile small but pleasant. "Please, before they start wilting, Irene." &. He had noticed the flowers. It would have been hard not to, when you considered how many flowers she had managed to redistribute. You could call Olivier D'Grey many things -- though you should call him your grace or Duke most of the time -- but you shouldn't ever call him lacking in generosity. Even his father had once said it would be his fatal flaw. So there had been more than a dozen hydrangeas that had somehow found there way into every member of the royal guards breast pocket and it made Olivier start chuckling to himself (ignoring the little wilt of disappointment he'd initially felt). She was still upset with him, that much was clear. But she was playing with him too, and that much was going to continue to make him smile. He went walking first. It was a need, to clear his head, think deeply without worrying about how his expression might make someone feel. Olivier knew he had a habit of making people uncomfortable with his long stare and perpetually furrowed brow. Antonio would have had a better line. But Antonio was back with his pregnant wife in another country, probably at that moment wondering if it was premature to start bed rest and so did not get to evaluate his 'romance failures'. At least not up close anymore. Helena's dismay was perplexing to him: he had not begun courting her the afternoon in question, even if he had been pleasantly surprised in the fountain. And it wasn't as though Daniella had been anywhere near his bed since that very afternoon. So he did not think the problem honestly rested with his dalliance with Daniella. She'd known they had slept together. It took him three-quarters walk through the extensive maze before he had figured out what exactly he was going to do. (And eleven flower-spottings). When Helena approached her quarters that evening, he was standing near her oldest guard. In one hand, he held the last hydrangea, elegantly folded and attached to a pin so that he could slide it into her hair or place upon her chest. More important was what he held in the other hand: a slip of parchment. "Before you say anything," Olivier began, following the customary bow, "I am pleased to note that you were so generous as to share the flowers. I am sure you brought a smile to many faces of those who work to keep you safe. And secondly, far more importantly, is this." He extended the tiny scroll. On it was a short phrase in a careful script, the words; “You are truly mine. Come have a drink with me, son.' He didn't speak them aloud, merely waited for her to read it. Softer, he offered, "I have never told another living soul those words, Helena. They're part of what happened to me at that age. That age which..." Olivier turned his shoulder, eyes cast to her guard and attendants, "...which we were discussing of some time ago." Helena took the scroll from Olivier. As she read it her countenance shifted from smug and challenging to confused and curious. She might have been able to surmise who had written the note given a bit more time, but Olivier explained himself quickly after. And as what Helena had come to expect with Olivier, the revelation of some knowledge lead to more questions. She looked up from the scroll to consider Olivier. After a few seconds she nodded. "Give me and the Duke some privacy, please," Helena instructed. With curtsies, her maids took their leave. Helena beckoned for Olivier to follow her inside her chambers and with a bow, her guard closed the door. Once further in near her cushioned windowsill, Helena spoke, "Olivier, I'm upset with you but I do not want to force you into revealing anything you're not comfortable with." Helena held out his father's message for him to take back. "That's not why I'm here," Olivier shook his head, words coming fast and easy. He had not even, for once in his life, attempted to hide his immediate relief at their privacy. Though he had seen her chambers once before, he was just as impressed this time. And were he not worried about the message she was taking, he may have spent more time marveling over the invitation. "Helena--", he faltered over her first name and reverted, hesitantly, "--Princess--I want you to know. I even...what you're upset about, I know I may not speak for you, but you should have known. Because I should have told you, I should have recognized the rules are different here, that what you live with, every day -- you need to be on, all the time with this court." Was it entirely obvious that he was talking about himself as much as her there? But he did get this. After another, heady breath, his expression clouded in earnest as he admitted, "I have never had someone in my life, no one, who would demand as much of me as I do of them." Well, not since the man who spoke those words to him. Truthfully? Even the Duke knew that wasn't true: his father had demanded far more from him than Olivier asked for in return, even if it turned out something his father was incapable of giving. Hesitantly approaching her window, he kept a respectful distance, despite the fact his shoulders were up, his breath hurried. "I want to show you I can live up to it. I want to be a part of it. I don't want you to keep me at arm's length and so, I won't keep you, at arm's length." It was difficult to remember she was upset with him, despite having just said it aloud, when his hesitation made her want to comfort him. The number of times he'd been vulnerable with her could be counted on one hand, and at neither had she seen him this nervous. He was correct in his observation, of course. He was a Duke and therefore very familiar to the lifestyle. But even Dukes could be afforded some respite in their own estates. Helena had never known a home other than Castelyei. It was both her ultimate protector and greatest threat. But perhaps Olivier was as familiar with that feeling as well. Moved by his honesty and insistence, Helena nodded and sat down, patting the space next to her. She offered her hand. "I'm here." He took it, following willingly to the window seat. His knee came up to rest against a cushion, so that he was leaning close to her, laying the hydrangea he still held and the scroll on pillows beside them. Their joined hands gently rest on her knee, which brushed his underneath the skirt. His eyes never dropped hers, despite how dry his throat was. If it might intimidate some, he knew without a shadow of a doubt it would not her. The thought was a thrill. Even if his own words now were far less assured. With his free hand, he gestured the scroll and broached the topic. "When I was eight, Tonio and I went out into the woods near the house. Tony seemed to know...the child of every servant in the entire manor, and invited them along with us. I knew our father would disapprove, but I hated to see Tony dis-included, so I went with it. Or...or maybe I just wanted to have fun, I don't know. I think eight year olds have fun, right?" A weak joke, but an earnest one. Opinions varied on his ability to be humorous. Helena smiled along with his joke but didn't reply to it. Yes, she could have commented on how she had it on good authority that yes they did, but she didn't want to interrupt his thoughts. She knew they wouldn't quiet down -they'd shared how difficult that was for both of them- but she didn't want to spook them. Didn't want to discourage him. She wanted him close too. It had not escaped him that he was courting the daughter of the man who personally removed his father's head. Strangely, he thought it made this easier to talk about. "There was an accident, a kid got hurt. Nothing life threatening, just a spill from a tree. But there...was blood." On cue, his tongue swiped his bottom lip. Helena squeezed his hand momentarily. She felt in the moment the turning point of the story. The abrupt and nauseating pivot of a reveal. "What happened next?" An inane question, but one that had to be voiced nonetheless. "I fed." Olivier was glad she had asked, gave him something, however small, to frame the question around. The scroll beside him was more than a gesture to her of his willingness to be open; it was a prop to himself, to remember the exact sequence of events. As best he could; his exact memories of the day were fuzzy, soaked in the blood as they were. Clearing his throat, he clarified, "Tony got between us - it - it stopped me. He was terrified of me, I could see that, but he yanked on my arm..." Olivier demonstrated pulling on her own wrist, as if she needed the example, "And I stopped. It was like...it was out of sight, out of mind. The kid did not remember later; my father made sure of that. I ran off, found one of our household staff, Teresa...she fetched Mother.” There was a brief pause while Olivier recalled, calmly, when his mother had arrived. How she had taken him into her arms, wiped blood from his mouth like it was chocolate. She hadn’t let him go until he’d stopped shaking. He let his eyes flutter open again, determined to continue. “It was swept away. Tony wouldn't talk to me for at least a week. I barely noticed, Helena, I just kept playing it over and over in my mind. I couldn't get the memory of the...taste," Olivier's hand brushed up against her pulse. Unmistakably his gaze dropped to her lips for a heartbeat, "extinguished. I wanted more. Which my father must have known, he must have anticipated." And he gestured to the scrap of paper, hesitating once more. His wording brought about a very specific image, but she wondered how accurate it could even. Helena had never witnessed it. Olivier himself was only eight years old when it happened. Memories changed every single time you recalled them. She let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding when Olivier specified he was stopped. It was silent but there was no masking the relief. Helena almost felt guilty for feeling it. After all, he'd already admitted to her he had killed before. She was prepared for the worst. Helena wasn't sure how she felt about the boy's memories being altered. After all, the sinyei servants who worked here had to agree to a secrecy spell placed on their heads, and if they didn't their memories were wiped and they were returned to their homes. It was a practice she was against, and one she intended on pushing Vlad to get rid of. But given the specific situation, it was probably for the best that the little boy didn't remember being attacked. Even if she was aware that Remington hadn't done it with that intention. Her gaze finally drifted from his eyes when he motioned to the small scroll again. The invitation from his father, the order rather. Her own father had given Vlad a sip of wine when he'd ask for it at nine or ten. He'd spat it back out. Helena had sneaked a sip that same night without asking. She'd also spat it back out but at least she hadn't had an audience. Remington's note was not that. It reeked of the manipulation of a young, overwhelmed, and frightened boy. Helena already knew she wasn't going to like what she heard next. She left her glare with the scroll so that when she turned back to look at him her gaze was soft. "Your father brought you someone to drink, then. A servant?" "A young washerwoman. I didn't know her." Olivier swallowed. It may have been in memory and would not even have to be of that specific evening. It had been a secret -- their secret -- he and his father's. While his mother had tried her best to explain why he may be different -- while his brother had tried to say this didn't have to change anything and resolutely proved talented in self-delusion -- his father had shown him. The disgust on her face was well-masked. If he had his brother's talent instead of being sufficiently pressured into noticing everything, he wouldn't have known. For a skipped heartbeat and carefully worded question, he surmised Helena was already judging his father for all the things Tony swore he should. "Helena, you know how when you're a child, your parents encourage you to finish your meal, all of it, down to the last bite?" Olivier clarified, quiet. A sudden wave of nausea overtook her, that she hid with almost two decades of practice. She might not have been sick but she felt sick. She figuratively shook her fist at every single condescending bastard who had made a comment about a woman's "delicate sensibilities", for she was close to proving them right. Her next feeling was even worse than nausea, it was pleasure. Pleasure at the fact that her father had executed Remington so many years ago. The thought made her sicker. It wasn't fair. As a princess, life was predominantly fair. She knew she had countless blessings simply by being born into the right family. She was the last person who should be decreeing life wasn't fair. But it hadn't been to that boy, to that washerwoman or to Olivier. She had been quiet for a long time. Upon having realized that, Helena exhaled. "You were just eight," Helena repeated in a small voice, unable to tear herself away from her thought process and the one fact she couldn't get over. He had been so young. How could his father let him do that? "Did he truly believe that's what was best for you?" "No." Olivier had waited while she processed. He had focused entirely on how close she was; on the way he could count individual braids beneath her tiara with his fingers and inhale a scent musky with faded flowers. "He didn't care." Olivier judged. "It took me a long time to understand, princess. He believed it was what was best for him." He was looking for fear. There was none; not in the way she still held his hand, nor in her shoulders as they vibrate, like she was trying to keep from throwing herself. He wondered at that. Would she throw herself at him as if to stop him from committing a murder two decades past, or on him, as if she could hide him from the world? "I didn't know what death was, what it... looked like. I didn't like the taste of it, though, I knew that." Horrid, Helena couldn't help but to think. What kind of father didn't want what was best for their child? Even horrible fathers like Cyrus (but that was a matter of opinion) did the things they did believing it was for the best. So perhaps 'father' was too good a term for Remington. None of this, of course, she would say aloud. He was being honest with her, truly honest. It moved her. But she didn't get the impression she needed to speak for him to understand how she felt, nor was it what he needed to hear anyways. "It must have been horrid. How often did your father...feed you?" Horrid wasn't the word he would use, but he wouldn't give her that one now. In retrospect he could understand - if only logically - what was so horrible about it. Briana had shown him another way -- as had Daniella with her demands -- but it was Helena who was listening to him instead of telling him what he should be doing instead. Biting down on his bottom lip, he admitted, "Often enough. It...He told me after the first...I was special. He told me I was special, and that this was special. I protested, but he even added that if I didn't like that after taste I didn't have to...finish. So..." He let out a long breath and then hesitantly, reached for her shoulder seeking the warmth, the way she felt. "You are special," Helena told him, almost insisted on it. Now her thumb traced his pulse, mimicking his gesture. He did it often and it always made her wonder if he could feel the blood run underneath her skin. She didn't, but she wasn't trying to find comfort but to give it. "And I don't say that to excuse you," Helena clarified softly, looking at his hand on her shoulder and back to him. She nodded. "I had never...seen my father look at me like he did that night, Helena. He was proud. That...Well, that meant a lot to me, I wanted him to be proud." "I can understand that." She put her free hand on his shoulder too but didn't stop there. She leaned in and pulled him into an embrace. Resting his forehead against hers as she pulls him in, he considers that she hadn't thrown herself after all. Instead she had an arm around his neck, her finger tracing his own pulse and he felt himself breathing easier and easier the stronger she held on to him. "I know it was wrong," Olivier assured himself as much he did her. Then, feeling like he could share, truly share, even if he hesitated before speaking he kept his eyes even with hers and didn't let her go. "I..think part of me knew then, they just tasted so good, and he was so happy with me, he ... he made it clear, even if he didn't say it, it was a condition of his love." His voice faltered. Then, in brutal, blunt honesty, he spoke. This time it wasn't trying to change her opinion or convince either of them of why what he had done - all those he had killed and hurt and erased -- was something she should excuse, or even could. He was shaking, just slightly. The words on the parchment didn't mean as much to him, they weren't as much of a secret, as this was. "It turned out my Father couldn't love anyone, Helena. I was too young to know it, but that's," His voice shook a fraction, "that's what it was." Helena immediately wanted to protest that love shouldn't have conditions, especially not paternal love. But he knew it, and that's what was most heartbreaking. He knew it and admitted that his father couldn't have loved him. She wondered if he'd ever told anyone that before, or if he'd even said it aloud to himself before this moment. He was shaking considerably, but Helena was strong. She would be strong for him too. "I'm sorry, Olivier, you didn't deserve that. You don't." He nodded too quickly, feeling her hair fly helter-skelter around his cheeks as he just let his eyes shut. Drudging up the past was never something he enjoyed. The fact it was something no one knew was even worse. He wanted this, he reminded himself, he wanted her to hear everything and she wasn't leaving him, so wasn't that the point of all of this? "Thank you. But that's...What happened. You know he was taken from me," Olivier opened his eyes now, breathing steadier, "and it left me stranded, unable to find another source. Then Briana came." He took another deep breath. Then he couldn't help but ask, "Are you okay? With--" Me, "--this?" "Olivier," she exhaled his name in a murmur, moving her hand to cup his cheek. She could hardly stand to watch him like this, so unsure and frightened. Her touch made him still. His hand moved to grip her wrist, squeezing tight. Helena was used to a certain point of people wanting her approval. She was also, however, used to others not needing it, especially not titled men whose only approval they sought was their king's (if even that). It was humbling to realize how much it mattered to him what she thought. "The more of you that you share with me only increases my affection for you. You've allowed me to know you better than nearly everyone.” Nearly everyone was correct. He thought at this point she may be understanding him more than his mother and brother (though that was not fair; Tonio had been in his own kind of hell at that young age and his mother, living with a man she no longer loved or trusted). “The more I understand you...how could I not be?" "Because I've been a monster," Olivier supposed, hesitant. "I have, I know that." Helena shook her head, her face breaking open for a split second before she remembered her promise. She would be strong. "From what you've told me I could never think of you as a monster." He knew he had been wrong. He did not like the taste of death. He had been a child. 'Monster' was a harsh term, and not one befitting the man before her. "You've trusted me," Helena rubbed her thumb in a circle on his cheek, "I trust you." Freeing her hands, Helena raised it to her hair and pulled away one of her hair pins. She tested the tip and after finding it lacking sharpened it with the spell she'd seen Leah use on her sword. "It's okay," Helena assured him and then pricked her finger. Blood pooled into a dot atop her skin. She offered him her hand. Inhale sharp and fast, Olivier tugged his eyes from staring at the crimson offering to her gaze. The questioning behind his was not in hers. All he saw was an answer. Taking her wrist with both hands, he gingerly pressed the area around her cut. It's a massage of distraction, one he was obviously practiced at. His gaze was darkening as he breathed in a scent robust and rich, a scent he had enjoyed one time before and never allowed himself to think about. Helena was a princess, the daughter of a man who beheaded his father for these acts. How could he have ever hoped to blood-share with her? She'd never seen him like this before. When he cut her hand for the spell, the hunger in his gaze had been tempered. When he first confided that he drank blood, that same hunger was there, brought about by memory. It was different now. His hunger and desire were his for sating, by her own offering. It elicited a feeling down in her belly knowing she did that to him. He was so meticulous. Helena didn't know what to expect, but she wasn't surprised. Olivier always handled every aspect of his life with such care and planning. Now she knew the reason why he, especially in regards to feeding, he'd be so careful. His two thumbs press on opposing sides, digging until he felt bone in soothing circles. Then, with one final glance turned up from hooded eyes, he swallowed two of her fingers down. His tongue lathered itself quickly in the wound, hurried in a pursuit of decadent taste. The scent hadn't done it justice -- hadn't done -her- justice. All his hesitance and misgivings melted away. She offered only affection in spite of his 'horrid' past. In her blood he tasted nothing but understanding, laced with every gentle swallow. A shiver ran down her back as her fingers became enveloped in the warm, wet heat of his mouth. She bit her lip, watching his face with satisfaction as she saw his pleasure. He had once told her he knew how to give pleasure even when imbibing this intimacy. Eager to share, without letting her hand drop he reached for her, fingers finding purchase under her shoulder blade. He pulled until she swiveled, enjoying her sharp exhale of excitement. He rested her back against his hard chest so she could feel his breathing, feel the tremors reverberating from his every swallow. Hand sliding down her the crinoline bodice of her gown, he held her close even as the wound produced no more natural nectar from the vine of her delicate fingertips. Helena breathed as he did, her cheeks becoming warm in the intimacy of their moment. It took her a few seconds to wet her throat so she could speak. "Olivier, you don't have to- this isn't about me. I wanted to do that for you." Gently, he let her fingers slide from between his lips, folding them around her thumb. Keeping their fingers tangled, he kissed the back of her fist, then the side, then her pulse. Three, quick, wet movements of affection and gratitude, instinctual with his delight. Taking another deep breath as he folded their arms down and wrapped around her too, he held her more securely in his lap now. The hydrangea had fallen, forgotten to the floor; the hair pin collateral damage on the pillowed windowsill. He whispered into her hair as he nodded, "And did you enjoy it too? Did you find it pleasing, knowing what you can so easily do to me, Helena?" "Yes," she admitted in a quiet voice, her breaths heavy, moving her whole chest up and down. Her eyes drifted close as his hold on her tightened and his mouth continued its worship of her skin with kisses. She reached behind her, cupping his neck to keep him close. “Then it seems I've answered one of your earlier questions," he teased, his breath tickling her ear. He'd been able to move lower when she grabbed him and, delighted by her enthusiasm, he let her. In fact he went willingly, clinging as much to her as she did him. His head bent, right-hand rising to toss her hair over his shoulder. Then he took her waist again, kissed the left -side of her cheek. "I told you I want to be a part of this, sharing, between us. Of course it's about you too." He kissed her jawline, breathing in. Then, still in a haze and head-rush, he admitted, "You taste exquisite. So...Warm, and rich..." With a breathy chuckle, Helena teased, "you've already told me that before." Her eyes fluttered open again lest she be lost in every single memory of his touch in the past few months. Now here she was in her royal chambers with him, completely malleable in his hands. "How do you do it? How do you unravel me so easily?" Her question made him chuckle, his hand making the journey down that his head could not, held captive by design. Passing over her stomach and lower still, he pointed out, "That is a fair question I could turn around on you, my princess. You just made me unravel with a single gesture, in response to a story that has made many a maiden weep for me instead.” "Many a maiden, is it?" Helena repeated with another breathy chuckle. She insisted on continuing to speak, even if his traveling hand made it difficult to focus on anything except it (and how torturously slow it was moving). "Careful, you're doing so well. I'd hate to have you escorted out," she warned, though it lacked the weight of truth behind it given she had absolutely no desire to have him leave. "I would, but you've tempted me to be dangerous instead." His hand made the point for him as it found a gap in her silk and pressed down. Continuing to rub, his head had to tilt to avoid being hit with the tiara as she nudged him. That crown had to be heavy, unruly even, but he liked her in it too much to contemplate even attempting to remove it. Especially when she had made the point that no man would uncrown her so clear before. "No," he admitted, "you are the only one who knows this story, Helena. I hope you know what that means to me." Helena inhaled through her nose, pressing down against his hand with intent. He was so very distracting. Her exhale was a small whimper as she held him closer, contrasting her realization that she needed to pull away in order to face him again. She kept as close as she could, loathe to displace him but needing him to look in her eyes and see the truth. She didn't want her next words to be lost in the haze of the whimpers and moans he could so easily draw out of her. He let her change their position again, not fighting when he'd arranged the first shift. Her thighs bridged his, her skirt hiked up as she settled and looked up at him. The desirious gaze she offered, shadowed with her words of wanting made him lick his lips again. The action chased after the remnant of her taste, too soon made a memory. In the hazy aftermath with his father that first time, he'd felt satiated, relieved, powerful. Right now, he felt hungry, gratified, powerless. It was strange, how much stronger the vulnerability made him feel. It certainly had to do with how often her lips kept meeting his, how often he felt her shiver and submit to him. "I do know," she cupped his neck with both hands, her eyes dark with lust but no less honest, "I told you once before, you don't need to hide with me." She placed a fast kiss against her lips and promised against his mouth, "I intend to honor that." He settled arms around her waist and squeezed their bodies together as she kissed him. "I won't hide," he breathed out, pointing out, almost teasingly, "If this is my reward, I wish I had more horrible stories to tell you." It was a jest, but his hand was toying with her corset ties all the same. Helena's intent was to smack him in retribution for his rather unfunny joke, but instead her hand on his chest only slid down, her nails scratching against his jacket. A woman's vestments might be more in number, but a man's could be just as restricting, particularly in certain situations. He wanted her bare. He wanted to stay between her legs, under her lips; he wanted more blood. And he wanted to know she understood the power she had over him was one he spent most of his life ensuring he'd never give again. "Honor me, then." Her other hand dropped from his face to his chest, helping her push away coat and jacket, and tugging his shirt out of his breeches. "My pleasure," Helena murmured with another kiss as her fingers pulled at laces, much like he did. She knew every bad thing that happened to him had made him into the man she was, a man she was dangerously fond of, so she wouldn't erase what he'd told her. But she wanted to make him forget all the same, for as long as she could. As she busied herself divesting him, he played. Fingers untied her bodice just enough to free her to grasp instead, palming them each. Her undressing him was momentarily paused as she was distracted by his hands on her chest, released only for a moment before finding themselves in another hold. His, however, was far more enjoyable. It was never easy for the Duke - for reasons he had just made clear - to let go of control over a situation and in a small way, his teasing reclaimed just that. It helped him to realize that all she had just told her - his drinking from her, seemed only to excite her passion. That boded well for him - for them, as he was so insistent on including her. His hand freed for a second to snap at the door behind them, tossing her on his lap back an inch. There was determination in his gaze as he pointed out, "That door is locked, yes? I have had quite enough of brotherly interruptions." Biting down on her bottom lip still, Helena began pulling his breeches down before he drew her attention to their privacy. She nodded through his question as an answer and added, "and please let that be the last time you bring up our siblings while I'm getting you naked." She tugged his breeches down, standing on her knees to ensure they continued their descent down his legs. And much like he'd replaced her bodice with his hand, she did the same with her own. Letting out a breathy chuckle he let stand for his agreement, Olivier had to admit that was still preferable to remembering what they'd been discussing. And if someone had told him that coming clean about his murderous past would result in a woman - a princess - tearing his clothes off... Clearing his throat as he helped her remove his breaches, he pointed out, "Naked against the window, my princess?" His hands were tangled in her hair. Helena stilled once again, looking at the window next to her with a sudden flush on her cheeks, she protested, "not against, just adjacent." But, perhaps, they were better off briefly relocating after all. Even though everyone was already going to talk given that she had requested privacy in her chambers with the Duke. She wouldn't be surprised if the servants had already circulated that throughout the castle. Court would gossip even if they weren't in a compromising position. "How scandalous." Olivier offered, his arms already seizing her and lifting her up. A part of her wanted to say damn them all, and continue on her windowsill. The other part of her detested the idea of having any sort of moment with Olivier out of spite. "My bed, however," Helena offered, "is far more comfortable and a few short feet away." His feet kicked out of the breeches, yet still made heavy noises on the floor - still wearing his boots as he was, and an unconscionable amount of stockings underneath them. He ignored this to deposit her on the bed, leaving his coat on her nearby chiffon lounge. As hard as it was to let her go, his hungry eyes disobeyed the direct order and kept observing her as he bent to remove shoes -- first his, then hers. Hers were far more dainty than his own, but as they fall away he was pleased to realize the strength of her calves underneath. No doubt she was a fierce horsewoman, a fierce rider. Olivier smirked at the fact, licking his lips. It was struggle not to laugh or kick him away as he took off her shoes. Her feet had always been much too sensitive. Helena didn't want to spoil their evening by accidentally kicking his nose in. Instead she focused on ridding him of all his clothing as well, all of them. He paused as his hands trailed up under the underskirt she still wore, hesitating as he realized she wasn't joking: her hands had fallen to remove undergarments. She wanted him naked. Fully bared, as if all he said hadn't already accomplished that. Loathe as he was to pause in their endeavors even a moment, he found himself halting at the foot of her bed. For one thing, she would be discovering his knife, holstered to his side underneath his shirt. (The third, that was, the one he hadn't left behind in the boot, and the one not in the coat on the chair.) For another... As he stopped moving, Helena looked up from delivering hungry kisses on his available skin, her hands resting above -what she thought after a brief touch- was a sheath. "Is something wrong?" As his hands pause on her upper thigh, he asked, "Do you want me, Helena?" He answered her question with one of his own. One that sobered her to her actions more than the mention of brothers or window bystanders had done. Helena exhaled. "Olivier if you're worried over my virtue," Helena began and then shook her head. No, he wasn't, and not in the same way her first lover had not been worried. Helena moved closer to him, pulling him in with an ankle hooked around his thigh. "Thank you for ensuring this is my choice, and it is. I want you wholly, entirely, dare i say it but don't you dare repeat it, desperately." Helena unsheathed the knife under his shirt without looking away from his eyes. She offered it to him, baring her neck to him. "So take me." He braced on a crooked elbow when she tugged him on top of her, his other hand still working at divesting her of her skirt - when he was sidetracked. As she handed him his own blade, it stuck in his palm, alerting to him to how sweaty he already was. Helena's offering made his mouth dry, his eyes already dark with their mutual lust and hunger. He didn't want to insult her and ask if she was sure, or if she knew what she was offering. She had nothing but his word to go on that he had learned how to stop without killing. Her desperation -- of course he was going to remember that word -- was matched in his own, his breathing hard and heavy, his chest pressing in to hers, and yet he still took the moment to savor. It was his. The image of the royal princess on her back, her chest unbound and bountiful, shiny from his kisses -- he was going to memorize this. She still wore her crown. He took the blade in his palm and used the hilt to trace her neck instead, careful as he guided it along the line of her vulnerable, dusky throat. His thumb left the cool blade to brush against where he could feel her heartbeat, skittering along an unsteady rhythm. When he finally opened his mouth, and let his tongue trace the path instead, he was breathing out, "Princess" into her skin. A shiver ran down her back as he traced the line on her skin he intended to cut. How foolish, most would say, to give a man a knife in bed and trust him with it. Those were not her own thoughts. That wasn't to say she didn't have nerves or caution. Helena worried it would hurt. She recalled the sting of him cutting her hand. Would it burn, would it be quick, would it leave stains on her sheets that would set the chatter ablaze? She never could quiet her own thoughts. She would try, however, and let his mouth be a tool to aid in her distraction. She closed her eyes and focused on the feel of it against her neck, of his weight comfortably atop her own, of his arousal pressed against her thigh. The garments between them were minimal now. Her hands traveled down his back, following the dip and curve, and dragging his white braies with them. She wanted to touch him everywhere too. "Take me," Helena repeated breathily, "I trust you." It was with a low, almost inhuman growl that Olivier nodded to her insistence, pushing steel under her skin. It's yet wet from his tongue and the diluted numbing effect of is own venom. He drew the blade down, focusing extremely on not making the cut too deep or wide. She still gasped and when she did he let the blade fall, soothing the hurt by attaching his mouth over the wound. The suction he applied immediately helped, he knew, but even with the threat of her blood intoxicating him taking over - he maintained enough presence of mind to slide his hand back under her skirt. Distraction for her -- and it served the purpose of warming her blood, the robust flavor he indulged in with every breath. Beneath her skirt she was already bare, wet, and warm too -- something his fingers eagerly explored, rubbed, massaged. The dual exploration was going to his head. He could feel his every limb winding up, body tensing with all he needed and gave. When she gasped against the side of his ear, again, dimly hearing something about teasing, he grinned against her throat. All he knew now was that he wanted more. And all he tasted was the fact she wanted more too. He took her then, just as his princess demanded. Each penetrating thrust went deeper than the last as her body welcomed him. If Olivier was surprised how willing Helena was to take his being rough and desperate, it did nothing but entice him. Eager as he was, chasing with every gasp of pleasure against her skin, he was determined to prove the one thing: Olivier D'Grey did not rush. He savored her. Her mouth had fallen open from the moment he cut into her and hadn't closed since. Moans left her mouth: long, drawn out ones; short, breathy ones; some with expletives and some with no identifiable words. Loathe as she was to admit it, Olivier was right. His drinking her was 'spine-tingling'. When he sank into her, her nails dug into his skin as well. He was already as close to her as he could be, and Helena still held him tighter, as if trying to slip into his skin. She rocked against him, raising her hips off the bed to meet his thrusts. The sensation of being drained and being filled simultaneously almost too much. She gripped his hair and bit her lip, managing to draw blood there as well. He'd once said people would say his name or his title when he fed from them. She'd reached a compromise. "Oli," she gasped when every other exclamation failed her. "Ooo-oh-Oli," she mewled when he'd grind into her sex at the end of a thrust. "Oli," she cried out as he took her to her release, drawing it out of her until her voice gave and her knuckles turned white with the effort of her locked limbs, before she relaxed again. She fell back against her bed sated, exhausted, and clinging to him. As they clung, naked and glistening, Olivier found a wry little smirk on his blood-stained mouth. The pet name she'd given him had fallen so gracefully from her perfect-o-shaped mouth. "I thought you were vocal," Olivier commented, tracing a loose, long strand of hair idly against her breastbone as he chuckled to himself, "I had no idea we'd need to soundproof the room too." The thought was a joyous one; he may be content, nuzzling the cut he'd made and soothing her torn skin, but he wasn't done with her. He was invigorated by her; filled with her blood and satisfied by her sex. The exhaustion he felt in her shaking limbs he wanted to kiss away, press his mouth on every square inch of her, massage away any aches he'd left behind. Helena's face was still flush from their activities because otherwise it would have pinked at his teasing comment. She licked her lips and silently winced at how sore they were from when she'd fought to keep quiet by biting down. It obviously wasn't successful. "Next time, then, give my mouth something else to do," Helena teased back, her eyes closing again as little waves of pleasure continued, broken up by the ache at her neck. "I take that as a challenge," Olivier pointed out, delighted to know she meant it that way in the first place. He rearranged them gently so that she would be laying on his chest, tilted to reveal her neck. Just the brief moment had him desirous again, tugging her hair out of the way as he sought to end her pain. His fingers gently dance over her wound as he admits, "I have a salve in my coat. Let me take care of you, princess. I promise I -" Olivier flicked his fingers to summon the bottle - "won't even leave the bed." The quick display of telekinesis was effortless. Fresh blood did that to him, making him shiver with the thought of what other magic they might be able to add to their play. "Braggart," Helena teased at his quick display of magic. She was glad he hadn't left the bed. That time would soon be upon them, and she wanted to avoid it for as long as they could. She bared her neck to him again, this time so he could heal instead of cut. His touch was gentle as he applied it, soothing her ache into a mild discomfort. "I hope it does not leave a mark." "I'll take care of it," he whispered, then admitted, "we'll have to clean your sheets, too. I did endeavor not to spill of course, but..." Olivier paused, brushing his thumb up her jawline to tilt her forward so he could kiss her - swift and teasing. "You got me excited, what else could I say?" It was a tease, but one borne of truth. He wasn't sure he had processed how lucky he was, even as he definitely wasn't sure she had processed all he told her. "I know a spell to wash away blood. Irene taught it to me." Helena smirked at his reasoning, both proud and momentarily concerned she'd made him that ravenous. Her fingers trailed across his chest as it rose and fell in a steady rhythm. "I had a hunch you did actually." Olivier had long learned that women were more practiced at this than even he as a half-vampire. Of course, they could later want to show that she had spilled blood as proof of consummation without anyone the wiser to their current activities. (Well, apart from her brother, the guard that he'd passed to get in today, their servants, and likely his own brother. But he wasn't supposed to bring up siblings). Focusing on his work - on her steady breathing, he admitted, "You're quite skilled in this art, you know." Was it entirely obvious that there was an undercurrent of 'and I do not share'? Probably, but that was the point. "Thank you, you're not untalented yourself." She tilted her head to look at him straight on, her lips upturned and her eyebrows raised. She chuckled, "is it that surprising?" "I wouldn't say surprising," Olivier hedged, passing the salve over the mark again, "but it does raise certain boorish, male instinct in me." Helena scoffed, "do you really want to have that conversation? Need I remind you of the reason I was so cross to begin with, or the various number of others you've taken to your own bed?" Because men were encouraged to explore their sexuality and women, especially princesses, weren't. "My rationale, starting out, was that I didn't want to marry someone if we weren't...carnally compatible, if you will. So once a relationship progressed past a certain point, I had sex with them. I, however, can still recount my previous lovers in one hand." In spite of himself, Olivier was grinning at her indignation. And kissing her available skin, despite it doing nothing to distract her (he would never seek to silence her, after all.) He was delighted by her rebuttal, enjoying the fact she wouldn't just stand aside for his own jealousy - even when he admitted it was base and boorish. "That's a fair rationale," Olivier noted, pressing his lips over the closed wound, glistening from his salve. Then he pulled himself straight to rest back in the covers, her still on top of him. "And I was the beneficiary of your experience, no doubt, just as you are of mine, no?" “My experience of laying back and clinging to the one fucking me?” Helena grinned, putting her hands on his chest to bring herself up to sitting. Sliding her legs until she straddled his lower stomach, Helena looked down at him with a wicked smirk, and adjusted the tiara on her head. “Let me show you the extent of said benefits,” Helena winked at him and with a kiss to seal her promise, she did just that. |
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10:51 AM Jul 11