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Post by Gillermo Stregazza on Jun 13, 2011 0:14:20 GMT -5
I wanted to reply something witty about how seeing me four days in a row was an easy wish, if only she'd give me leave to write a letter to the Palace, but she looked like a terrified dove, and I gathered her to me, feeling --- ah, Elua, I felt as if I wanted to believe every single of her promises, though I thought I shouldn't.
For a moment, I said nothing, then I leaned in and kissed her, taking initiative, this time, a kiss that was tender, delicate, intended to be soothing. I wasn't sure I could talk – my throat was tight and my belly was doing a flip flopping motion which I'd never been acquainted with before.
So I kissed her, and kissed her again, long and hard, taking pauses only to breathe, until at last...
“I'm here for a while,” I said slowly. “And I promise not to disappear again, or to leave without sending word.”
I made promises as I could keep them. This was what I could say, even if laying my life at her feet was all that I wanted to do, this moment. But I had a duty to accomplish first, before I was worthy of her.
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Post by Mirielle Bellamont on Jun 13, 2011 0:29:39 GMT -5
Always a hesitation from both of us, as if each of us had to digest what the other had said before we could think to react or speak. I waited for it, for him to say something, but I'd have lied if I hadn't said that the press of his mouth to mine was preferred. There were no barbs with the kisses, or touches, or holds. There were no hesitations or self doubts, and so I met his kiss with my own, accepting it and giving back, my arms tightening around him more. I kissed him, and kissed him again til my head was spinning, and by the time he finally broke away, I was short of breath and near clinging to him for fear of toppling off the horse. His words brought a smile though, slow and soft, but it was heartfelt and made me feel as if I were fair glowing. "I'll take it," I replied softly, knowing too that just because he was here did not mean I would see him. I held him close, take the opportunity to do it, and just barely kept myself from brushing his hair back away from his face. "I promise to wait, then."
It was double edged, double fold, and I didn't know how he'd take it, but it was there, and even if he flung it in my face I would hold to it. Odd, how in so little a time, in the face of so much hurt and uncertainty that I would know my fate.
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Post by Gillermo Stregazza on Jun 13, 2011 22:11:11 GMT -5
I was lost in the kiss myself, and when she spoke again, I smiled a touch, and for the first time, it reached my eyes – I was, purely and simply, intoxicated with her. I was poisoned with her heady scent, the sensuality of her kiss, the soft lilt in her voice, the way she clung to me like a raft at sea.
It occurred to me that as much had passed in her life as it had in mine, and that second chances... ah, Elua. Love as thou willt indeed, and I loved deeply and profoundly. My hand reached to brush her hair tenderly, unbeckoned.
“I'll do my best not to take too long,” I replied, and again, I wasn't exactly sure what that meant exactly. I found a wry pleasantry, and offered it for peace. “It's not good manners to make a lady wait.”
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Post by Mirielle Bellamont on Jun 13, 2011 23:26:13 GMT -5
I leaned into his touches, not heavily, but a tilting of my head towards his hand, an enjoyment of how he caressed me so. My eyes never left his face though... Oh, he smiled, truly smiled, and it was like a ray of sunshine after a tempest. His face relaxed enough for it to affect more than the curve of his lips, and I brought my hand up and gave into the urge to softly brush my fingers over his cheek.
I couldn't help the small laugh that accompanied his words though, a tiny soft sound, but it was there. "I don't know what you're doing, and I am not going to pry.. but just know that I am here. I always will be," I added, softer, not sure how he would take that exactly. I couldn't help but wonder what he was about, but it wasn't my place to ask him, not anymore. All I could do now was stand by and watch, and wait, and hope. My fingers slid up, brushed his hair back, skirting over and around the scar at his temple. Right now I didn't want any questions, no divulgences from our pasts. Right now, I just wanted this, and I was terrified the spell around us would break.
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Post by Gillermo Stregazza on Jun 14, 2011 10:37:30 GMT -5
I didn't want to talk about Carthage, but my quest was a public one – the more I was vocal about it, the greater the chance that information would turn up. I was to be a beacon for my sister to see, if she still lived, somehow, somewhere.
“I'm here on personal business,” I told her as I gently touched her hair, delicately arranging the strands, “Looking for Cascata.” My eyes closed and I took a deep breath, a hand splaying across Mirielle's back. Now that we'd made peace, I didn't feel like letting her go so soon.
Below us, Strider nudged himself towards another patch of grass – the water flocked nearby quietly, a dragonfly buzzed aways away. I felt oddly calm, as if this were just as it should be. I had a thought about the bridle, which seemed to be sliding down beyond my reach, and sighed inwardly. It would have to be dealt with – but Strider would have his share of work in it.
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Post by Mirielle Bellamont on Jun 14, 2011 17:12:07 GMT -5
The little bubble of the moment had yet to burst, and I was ever grateful for the extended quiet. He spoke and I let my hand fall away from his face, coming instead to his chest and laying lightly against it.
His reason made me draw a breath, and my lips took on a sympathetic cast. "I received news that she had died too," I said gently. "To-Biko as well.. but I have very large doubts against such reports now," I added. I couldn't help but wonder - how had it gotten like this? How had he disappeared and not known where his sister was? Whatever had happened I didn't know, but now wasn't the time to try to get information about it.
Gently I moved my fingers, stroking them softly over the top of his chest, tracing silly patterns and nonsensical shaped against his rougher-spun garb. "I haven't heard or seen her since though... I'm not sure if she's in the City, or if she is she is keeping very low-key. If there's anything I can do to help you, Gil..."
I left it at that, not wishing to push or be a bane upon anyones existence, but the offer was there and heartfelt. My gaze dropped from his and to his chest, watching it as my fingers passed slowly and softly across.
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Post by Gillermo Stregazza on Jun 15, 2011 0:17:25 GMT -5
I could see the questions in her eyes, but there are tales that aren't told while sitting atop a horse with a woman you love on your lap, and mine was one of those, and so I pretended not to notice them, saving the tale for later, much later, when I could bring words to name it all.
Mirielle's words gave me hope, though, and I found myself smiling faintly, drinking in her hope and fueling my own with it. “I will be requesting an audience at the Palace in the coming days,” I said patiently. “Should I need a witness to assert my identity, will you speak on my behalf?”
I had my father's seal and a letter from Emilio, but arguably, both could be falsified, if one thought in such terms. It was perhaps a moot question, but still. Somewhere in my mind, the niggling thought that if I was thought dead and was here, could the same be said of August? But I filed it away as pure madness, born of my own insecurity, for if Mirielle had spoken it, surely, she'd born witness to it all.
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Post by Mirielle Bellamont on Jun 15, 2011 8:33:07 GMT -5
The Gillermo of old returned a bit to me when he spoke of calling on the Court, and I smiled at it, smiled at the days of old, of dancing with him at fetes and laying with him in sheets of silk. I remembered it, and missed it.. so many things had changed, and in some ways others hadn't altered.
"Of course," I said, reassuring without hesitating. "I admit, I haven't been to Court near as much as I should have, but I have been less than..." I trailed off, and fidgeted with his shirt, the nonsensical patterns stopping. Again I skirted a subject that brought grief, but it was part of who I was, part of who my daughter was, and I couldn't hide from it. I needed to be able to talk about it with him, even if it wasn't now, without fear he'd wish to have my hide for it.
"Dark days," I responded, but rather than dwelling on it, I waved my hand a little to dismiss the matter and smiled, immediately changing the subject back to what it was. "I shall make inquiries of my own concerning Cascata, and see if there is aught I can learn to aid you with your search. You are staying at your townhouse..? So I may send any word I receive," I clarified, coloring slightly, wishing I didn't sound so forward.
Truth be, I had no idea where he was residing, and I tried to tell myself that it was to send word alone, and for no other personal reason. My eyes wanted to glance away, and I did for a fleeting second before bringing my eyes back to his beautiful ones.
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Post by Gillermo Stregazza on Jun 15, 2011 8:58:18 GMT -5
I'd murmured a quiet and grateful thank you in response to her agreement, and I reached to put my hand in her hair, gently streaming through it, soothing myself as much as I was trying to soothe her. I understood what she wasn't saying, and though the thought of her mourning for August settled uneasily with me, I didn't react to it, simply kept a small sigh to myself, and kept on stroking her back and hair.
“You've found me where I reside,” I replied in an attempt at a jest to lighten the mood. “Dead men don't own much, and especially not townhomes. I will be doing what is necessary after my audience with the Queen.”
I leaned down to kiss her hair and stayed there to take in her heady scent. “If I move from the Cockeral to my own home, they will know to send any missives there,” I added absently.
She felt broken, and her own brokenness made me want to be strong, made me forget my own, and so I stayed quiet, trying to be a comforting presence. Elua, my Mirielle, a mother alone with a babe, and no husband to see them safe. The horde of servants she was invoking did not soothe me – but perhaps it was because I did not want to be soothed.
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Post by Mirielle Bellamont on Jun 15, 2011 10:05:12 GMT -5
I winced at his casual mention of dead men; I'd dealt with enough death that I had a hard time jesting of it so lightly, and besides that I severely disliked the idea of him meeting his fate. Before I knew it, I slipped my arms around him again and cradled him as tenderly as I could, my face burying into the crook of his neck, breathing him in, letting his scent fill my senses as completely as he filled my arms.
"I want you to meet her," I said softly, against the skin of his neck. "Christelle, I want you to meet my daughter."
I pulled back enough to look at him, and found myself kissing him again. A sweet, slow kiss, my lips pressing against his without hesitation, and I remembered his mouth as I ever had. "Gil," I whispered against his mouth, my lashes swept closed against my cheeks. I love you, I wanted to say, but a piece of me whispered it was too soon, and instead I kissed him a second time before pulling away again. "I'll send my missives to the Cockeral then," I finished, but my breath was flighty in my lungs, and my heart fluttered like the beat of a flock of doves.
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Post by Gillermo Stregazza on Jun 15, 2011 10:37:22 GMT -5
Mirielle was more and more vulnerable, and I was feeling lightheaded myself – barely here a short while and already – Elua, what was I getting myself into? When she spoke of the babe – a child I knew was there to stay, and would forever be between us – I almost tensed, because this was not only her child, but the child of another.
A child who would never be mine.
I was grateful for the kiss that saved me from having to answer her request, grateful that I had more time to somehow find the words, and the heart to forget my hatred of August de Trevalion in favor of my love of Mirielle.
Did she only seek me because I was here, and he wasn't? The question, like the child, would also be a permanent block in our passion, and I tried to stifle it, to leave it be, but my questioning would not quiet.
“Good,” I replied, simply. “It's late, Angel. I should see you home for real, now.” I needed time. I needed time to fully accept what was passing, and to do what I'd come to do, too.
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Post by Mirielle Bellamont on Jun 15, 2011 11:21:45 GMT -5
He made no mention of wanting to see Christelle, and I tried not to think of it or dwell on it. So much had happened so quick, and I shouldn't have said everything that I had. Tonight, under my own covers, I knew I would regret it. I would regret everything I said, but I wouldn't regret my kisses, and I wouldn't regret holding him. Actions I could deal with, but words? I'd lost my grace, had lost my confidence, as much as I'd struggled for over a year now to gain it back.
I nodded and turned my face from him, knowing he'd forsaken the reins to hold me earlier. Keeping from having to bend over me to fetch them himself, I let go of him to hold onto the cantle of the saddle and reach with my free hand, my balance as good it ever had been, years of dance conditioning me for the remainder of my life. I stretched down and my fingers took up the straps of leather, pulling gently to bring Striders head up again as I leaned back. Wordlessly I offered them to him, aiming to tuck my hands back in my lap again once he'd taken over control. "Home," I agreed at last, my voice quiet in the night.
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Post by Gillermo Stregazza on Jun 15, 2011 11:28:19 GMT -5
When Mirielle leaned in the saddle, I reached to hold her waist, because I'd be damned if she fell off Strider under my watch. But she was deft and crafty, and the horse was amenable, and bridle in hand once more, I made a small sound before I gently healed my steed and nudged him towards the West Boroughs.
“Aye,” I murmured, and made quiet now, I simply allowed myself to revel in the feel of her body, of our conjoined warmth and the quiet of the night air. It seemed to me as though the world was holding its breath for us, waiting to see what Mirielle and I would do next, and frankly, so was I.
Slowly, Strider's confident steps got us closer to her home, and I held the bridle only as necessary, favoring to hold her, to feel her, fearing, somehow, that something would come again between us, that some demon would rise to the abyss and claim her, and take away what was starting to feel like a second chance.
Oh, Elua. I'd have given an arm or a leg for To-Biko's practical, down to earth advice this moment. In truth, I needed a drink.
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Post by Mirielle Bellamont on Jun 15, 2011 12:05:25 GMT -5
I drew a breath of air as we ambled along, and the further on we went, the more tired I became. It'd been a long day for me before I'd seen him, and everything since discovering he still lived, something I wasn't yet recovered from, had done much to drain me of any remaining energy.
He held me, careful, and in response I laid my head upon his shoulder and closed my eyes. I breathed him in, his musky, masculine scent, and let the rocking motion of the horses steps lull me towards peace. My heart quivered each time his hand would shift against me, but I didn't stir, just remained calm against him. I knew from time and distance alone that we were drawing close to my home, and still I didn't open my eyes, but let myself enjoy these last few moments alone with him, nursing the knives in my heart, and nursing, too, the indescribably heady notion that one day we might again belong to one another.
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Post by Gillermo Stregazza on Jun 15, 2011 12:38:35 GMT -5
The silence was stretching and there was an odd peace to it, as if we were slowly relearning each other's body. For all that had come to pass, I had to admit it to myself: we'd left each other in hurt, we were finding each other again in what I did not dare call love, but it felt good, it felt true and it felt right.
I let myself cradle her, almost wishing she'd fall asleep, not speaking for fear of breaking this moment of relative peace until it was strictly necessary. We got to her home, though, and then I spoke, barely a whisper for her and I both.
“We're here, Angel.”
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Post by Mirielle Bellamont on Jun 15, 2011 13:32:12 GMT -5
I could have slept, so very easily, if not for the fact that my mind was constantly winding up again just when I would start to relax. Gil was here, Gil was here, Gil was here..
Gil was here.
His touches were so tender and careful, and I spent much of my time paying attention to them and not anything else that we'd spoken of. My lips were still warmed by his, my side and rear were still connected to him, and my cheek still pressed against his shoulder. When he softly announced our arrival, I wished I could ignore it, wished I could be asleep and keep this feeling of him, but I knew I couldn't. Duty, pride; they made me slowly open my eyes, and slowly sit up. I drew a breath, a small, short breath, disappointment and reluctance welling in me, battling my natural urge to rush in to peek in on Christelle.
The stableyard was dark, quiet; mayhap no one waited up for us, though I thought that perhaps it was to give us privacy. I nodded and swallowed, glancing down over Stiders side at the drop I would incur to dismount. I glanced back to Gillermo, and mustered a smile for him. "I'm glad to see you, Fox," I whispered, my eyes looking up to his, trying to drink them in, to memorize his face, a face I never thought I would again see.
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Post by Gillermo Stregazza on Jun 15, 2011 13:51:10 GMT -5
I didn't want her hurt, and I kept my arms tight around her to stop Mirielle from a hop that I judged potentially disastrous. “I'm glad to see you, Angel,” I whispered on her lips, and the I kissed her, kissed her like I wanted to, with all my love and the unbound passion I felt for this adorable woman.
In the time we'd crossed from the Cockeral, much had been said, and much had been shut out of the conversation, and much silence had stretched, too, and I'd remembered her, healing me from my demons with barely a few words, enduring horrors for my sake, and for a fact, there was a part of me that didn't blame her for having take a route that seemed easier by choosing August over me.
And it was that understanding and forgiveness that I tried to pour in my kiss, in the way I held her, in the passionate joining of our lips. “I love you, Mirielle Bellamont,” I murmured finally, in my native tongue, in singing Caerdicci that I felt coming to me so very naturally when I was tired as I was. “Don't hop off just yet.”
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Post by Mirielle Bellamont on Jun 15, 2011 14:19:10 GMT -5
For the second time that night he kissed me senseless, and for the second time I found myself clinging to him to keep from toppling inadvertently from his horse. My heart didn't just flutter, but pounded within my chest, my head was dizzy with joy and adoration, and my mind couldn't begin to wrap around everything. I kissed him as he kissed me, unbound and free, passions arising and invoking within me, passions so strong, ones I hadn't felt in a very long time.
When he spoke, I understood the words, not realizing that it wasn't d'Angeline that he spoke but his own tongue. I knew the words, but mostly what I knew was my heart, knew his voice, knew his tone and his soul, knew his face and everything about him. He loves me. He loves me!
"I love you, Gillermo Stregazza," I whispered back, a smile unbound on my mouth, my hands rising to twine around his neck. My lips were moist from our kisses, and I held him, hoping he knew how much I loved him, how much I'd missed him, how much I was glad he was back and how reluctant I was to let him go, even for the night. "I'll stay.. For as long as you'll have me, I'll stay."
Did he know? Did he understand how very much I loved him? There were things about him that had changed, but I knew parts were my fault; he was jilted, and rightly so. I didn't know if I could ever fix that rift between us, but I hoped so. Gods, I hoped so.
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Post by Gillermo Stregazza on Jun 15, 2011 15:23:27 GMT -5
Part of me felt it, but hearing it was good – so good and so healing, and the sun slowly rising over the uneven horizon of the city seemed to come bearing hope for better days. “You have a babe to attend to,” I said softly, “and I have a little sister to find. But I am here, and I will be here so long as I can.” My callused hand reached up, touched her cheek. “But now, I don't want you hopping off this horse and breaking something. It may make cradling that sweet child of yours difficult, and I wouldn't want that.”
Where my concerns for her duties as a mother came from, I could not tell, in truth – it was born of her own words, perhaps also of my sudden desire to father another child of our own, not to compete with her first born, but to heal us once more. Early, too early, and there'd been rumours of a draft in the tavern – ill rumours that said little of substance, but still. “Here,” I said softly, and guiding Strider with my knees, he started toward a ledge just a smudge higher than the block she'd stepped on by the inn.
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Post by Mirielle Bellamont on Jun 15, 2011 16:06:52 GMT -5
Oh! Oh Elua, he'd meant not to just jump down, and here I was, taking it utterly out of complex, thinking he wanted me to stay with him a few moments longer... Oh Elua! How embarrassing.
I very nearly groaned softly, and though I stopped that I didn't stop my hand from covering my flaming face as he guided his mount near a concrete ledge that was part of a larger statue. "Thank you," I said, my voice pitched quiet and very likely a goodly bit of my humiliation showed through. Strider neared it and halted, and I paused a second before getting down to look at Gil, to memorize him, to drink in the feel of his arms around me. My lips found his again, full and hot and fast, a sweet kiss that spoke volumes of my feelings... or at least I hoped it did. "I love you, Fox," I whispered, my eyes on his, before I turned and ever so delicately slid off his horse and onto the ledge. My footing gained, I turned to look at him, my stomach fluttering, my heart pounding, and my knees near quivering. I stood straight though, tall and proud, my Azzalese nature shining through.
Elua, I still could scarcely believe he was back.
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Post by Gillermo Stregazza on Jun 15, 2011 19:23:16 GMT -5
Embarassed, Mirielle was adorable, and I tried not to look took endeared, for fear of making it worse. One more kiss and she was off balancing and standing on the ledge, and I smiled a little, making Strider amble so that I might lean and steal one last kiss.
“I love you, my Angel.” My hand caressed her cheek, and I smiled truly, for she'd given me hope – a strange hope mingled with reservation, but hope nonetheless, and I felt strong and fitted to face the coming day. I looked at her, withdrew my hand, and said, grinning and made cocky and confident by our kisses, “Ci vediamo più tardi, l'angelo più bello.”
With that, I healed Strider demandingly, he neighed, and we left her yard at a joyful gallop. There would be no sleeping this day – I was too elated, too thoughtful, too excited. Instead, I would prowl Mont-Nuit, starting my search immediately, and crash with the sun himself.
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