silvergarden | Avalon Inbox

Indeed. You as well, I see. [ To those who have been in Avalon long, completing the trials is more of a tedious task than not.

A glint of light near her ears catches his eye, and it is then that he notices the jewelry, the ones he had gifted her months ago. He hadn't given it more thought than necessary to what style would be appropriate back then. Even now, he's not so sure-- but not because they clash. Rather, they flatter her, ...but perhaps too much, for the earrings create a natural path down their length, drawing his attention to the curve of her neck.

He is a touch too slow to correct his gaze back to his glass, at which he takes another sample of wine and covers his delay with a mild question. ] Are you enjoying yourself?

[ The wine helps to smooth out his voice, which she may or may not notice is an over-correction of his delayed reply. ]

I am! [Was he... staring at her? Perhaps there is an embarrassing smudge on her face, or her hair has fallen out of place? And he is too polite to mention it?! Rinea brushes her knuckles against her cheek in an absentminded gesture, but finds nothing.]

I find Elphame's invitations are always so sudden... and I can hardly stand to watch fights. But it is reassuring to see the plight of the land improve after the Fisher King's untimely revival. [They've been haunted by the spectre of that veil-lift for months, now.] I wish to hold out hope that the Lady Queen knows what she is doing.

[ Her attempting to undo flaw on her cheek that isn’t there had been the repercussion of his lingering gaze. Having not intended to make her self conscious at all, this is something he needs to correct.

Before that, however… Talk of the Fisher King’s revival is a reminder of his purpose for greeting her this night, for the man responsible for it all has since gone. ]

Whatever the fae plan, we shall react accordingly. [ A neutral, trimmed statement, but there are more important matters to discuss. He offers his arm. ]

Would you care for a stroll?

[ “Outdoor” is a generous term for the Isle of Dreams, but even this banquet hall had greenery decorating its perimeter, allowing attendees both respite and privacy from the gala itself if needed. This would be perfect to discuss the matter of his brother departing… and more importantly, that there is one less person to cause such veil-lifting chaos and harm her in Avalon. ]

I would love to.

[It is such a welcome change that Somnus would ask for her time, when in the year before speaking to him without explicit business seemed like trespassing. Rinea takes a final sip of her drink, handing off the goblet to a half-imagined spectre of an attendant, then takes his arm gladly. The gesture is beginning to feel familiar.]

I wonder if... [As they approach the banquet castle's gardens, Rinea cranes her neck to look up at the darker evening heavens, concentrating hard. The air trembles, then slowly their patch of sky shifts to the golden hour.] Ah! There we are. Just a bit of light.

[ She hadn't needed to bless them with the light of evening, but she does so anyway. The garden (imagined, but not excessively gaudy with flowers) seems to come to life, the soft light washing all with a touch of gold. The same color appears to caress the pale, smooth skin of her face-- which, naturally, he only knows because he's turned once again to look at her, his attention called by the smile in her voice.

If twilight itself is an enchantment, then she is bewitching, and it's as if he has momentarily forgotten the purpose of this stroll. A word slips past his lips (--did he even say it, or is it the work of the isle of dreams?), just barely audible above the clamor of the festivities and music within the hall. ]

Stunning.

[ Another lengthy pause follows. He clears his throat. ]

.....The earrings on you are stunning.

Oh? [Her free hand jerks as if to reach for the earring, but she recalls the pair halfway through the gesture and halts the movement.] --Oh!

[So this is what Somnus was looking at? That is both relieving and intriguing. Subconsciously, the cogs start to turn; he sounded, just then, exactly like Chris in the throes of her infatuation with Claire.

Regardless of the deeper implications, Rinea can't help but let her gentle amusement sneak into her voice.]

Thank you. A very sweet man gave them to me.

[ "Sweet", she calls him, and indeed anyone would think gifting such earrings to be a kind gesture. Yet, there is no doubt he is completely undeserving of the description, given all that he's done in his own world. One good act does not negate all of which he has done.

What is sweet is the gentle voice with which she speaks, the courtly way in which her arm is around his, and the gratefulness in her voice. He replies, evening his tone: ] Fitting, for one so kind as yourself.

[ Another "sweet" thing to say, he supposes, but it had taken him so long to tell her she had been in grave danger by mere association in the first place. ]

....I have news.

[ The path diverges from the perimeter of the banquet hall, branching off to what appears to be a stone and ivy courtyard, a small center fountain glistening in twilight. He leads her into this space, his lips pressing together tightly as if preparing his words carefully. That he brings her away from others may be indication enough that what he has to say will be kept between them. ]

[Ah... while the words are neutral enough, the implication behind them is sobering. Rinea's expression clouds, but she nods.

As their walk finally slows in the courtyard Rinea turns to him, searching his expression, earnestly concerned.]

Is something the matter?

...The one who had been responsible for reviving the Fisher King. The one who had lifted the Veil.

[ The one who, because of that, had led to Somnus being struck by one of the monstrous knights of that veil, only to turn his ire to her under their curse. For someone who had attempted so hard to protect her, that he had almost been the one (cursed or not) to bring her grave harm is something that will haunt him.

...But. If there is one less possibility of her being harmed, it is that is brother is no longer here. ]

My brother. [ He continues, turning slightly to face her. ] He has since vanished from this world.

[ Danger still remains in Avalons, of course, but she's safe from being made a victim of his own family. ] ...If knowing of him has caused you distress, you needn't worry any longer.

So, that was... [... the same person. "Ardyn," they said his name was... so that man, that man, was Somnus's brother?

Rinea gazes down at the courtyard stone path, frowning. If Ardyn was capable of such things, it is no wonder Somnus had warned her about him.]

...I see.

[Still... she raises her eyes to Somnus's again.]

Will you be all right?

[ He meets her gaze. Somehow, he manages to smooth the gravel of his voice before replying. ]

You are kind, Daughter of Rigel.

[ His concern remains for her, and that is all, but to dismiss her question outright would be rude. Hence, he gives acknowledgment but ultimately a non-answer.

...But then there is a-- sound, quiet but distinctly enough to be someone's voice. It's almost like a single, sharp breath, or perhaps a sigh. Somnus' head snaps in its direction. The connection between Ardyn being his brother is not someone he's told anyone else, and this is all information he'd rather keep private. If someone is listening, they are obscured by the hedges next to them.

He frowns. ]

Someone is there.

Oh, no...

[Rinea draws closer to Somnus, anxiety rising as she strains to peer around the hedge. Who has overheard them? Is it a friend or foe? Has she ruined Somnus's tightly-kept secrets with a lack of awareness of her surroundings?

Underneath that fear, she finds herself sorely disappointed to be interrupted. Time with Somnus is always hard-earned, and their last outing together was so lovely....

But as they step around the hedge to meet their unexpected company, she may come to regret entertaining such sentiments on the capricious fae isle.]

[ The two figures they encounter appear to be minding themselves-- rather, each other-- and Somnus would have been content to leave them at that, if not for something strangely peculiar about the scene. It is a man and a woman, seated upon a grassy, flowery patch within the garden, with willows framing the hedges around them. That isn't so odd, but what is is that the woman is wearing a familiar pleated skirt he's seen before, and the man's garb is something far too familiar.

As his mind races to slot the pieces together, as he leans closer, eyes narrowing as if he could discern exactly why it is familiar, the scene continues.

It is one that is undoubtedly meant to be private by the way the man's hand raises up to adjust a wave of the woman's hair over her ear. They are gazing at each other as if they exchange words no one else can understand, but instead of his hand dropping and creating distance between them, the man's palm lingers upon the woman's cheek as if he holds something fragile. But the woman... she tilts her head up towards him, her fingers curling delicately over the hand at her cheek, encouraging and gentle. A few moments of silence pass, then the two appear to move at once, coming together to steal a taste of the other in a slow, tentative kiss. It is one that soon parts but has them linger close to each other's lips, breathless, before returning for another.

...

And then it clicks: this is them. This is them as they were on that spring day, only imagined to be something more intimate. ]

Alchemist...

[ His voice is oddly tighter in his throat as he addresses her. ]

[Despite living in Avalon for some time, Rinea still has only passing familiarity with footage of her person. Seen at angles a mirror cannot capture, she does not immediately recognize herself. Is that Somnus, though? Is this a vision? What a lovely time he is having, she thinks. The scene is familiar, and watching it fills her with longing. If only they could go back to that themselves. If only the stress of Somnus's brother did not plague him, and they could keep talking. If only....

Then the visions kiss, and it hits her.

Rinea gasps. Her hand claps to her mouth, face hot.]

D-Did I-- [--Did I manifest this? The strike of shame is so strong and instant that she nearly staggers.

"Alchemist"... the job title he uses to put distance between them. An arrow in her heart.]

L-Lord Somnus, I'm-- I didn't mean to... [It takes every ounce of will she possesses, but she turns to look at him despite everything, her own face full of embarrassment and shame. What expression can he possibly carry? Disappointed? Has she ruined everything?]

[ Similar thoughts flit through his mind: the scene is exactly as it had been on that clear, spring day, save for the single, selfish, and impulsive act of having his hand linger upon her cheek, bringing her lips to his. It is what could have been, if only...--If only he had been so inappropriate, he quickly corrects himself. Such an act is not fit for a polite woman of noble status. The visions continue to engage with each other in that shy, soft way only two newly twined souls would do.

At the call of his name, he tears his gaze from the facsimiles to look at her, noting the color of her cheeks and the embarrassment. In contrast, his own expression has grown quite slack, lips parted as if struggling for something to stay. His free hand raises to the draped collar of his cloak, tugging it a tad loser as he swallows his immediate response, shaking his head. ] The Ilse is known to play tricks. Do not fret.

[ It is a weak excuse. The fae make for a convenient scapegoat, but everyone who has ever been to this isle before knows that it indeed works on one's desires. He will gladly blame the fae if it means sparing her further embarrassment... even if, privately, the thought of her thinking of him in such a manner causes a flutter within his chest, not unlike that of a youth's. ] Let us--

[ "--Rinea."

That. Is his voice. But he hadn't said it... and certainly not in such a breathy way.

Somnus' head snaps in the direction of the vision, only to discover proof that it couldn't possibly be something she has imagined, for her dream self is no longer wearing the outfit she had been before. Instead, she's wearing white, flowing linen that women would often wear during his reign. The fabric drapes over her body in both a minimalist and luxurious manner, silken, breathable, and classical. No, it couldn't possibly be her desire, for the manner of dress women wear now is often stiff with petticoats and wool, and no doubt she would never imagine herself in anything but the style she prefers. Moreover, the change of outfit allows his dream self to easily move his palm to her thigh, fingers pressing into supple skin, bunching the thin fabric upward--

He grabs her wrist, giving it a tug. ] --We must leave.

[ His pulse is quickening. Beneath the fringe of his dark hair, the tips of his ears have turned pink. There is no denying he is the one at fault at this point, but if she sees anything more-- gods help him, if this vision disrespects her any further-- this will be the end of him. ]

[So anxious was Rinea to confirm her Somnus-- the real one-- isn't utterly disgusted with her, that she does not look back at the visions until Somnus does not pull his gaze away from them fast enough. She turns.

Oh, so their outfits changed? They're certainly pretty, though the style is unfamiliar to her. Its drapery suits vision-Somnus utterly, like he was born to wear such clothes. When she puts it that way, though, perhaps such outfits are not as unfamiliar as she first thought. ...Wait, is he touching her--

Then Somnus grabs her and leads her away. Rinea does not manage anything but a little squeak of surprise, too inundated with new information to protest. She follows, steps almost clumsy from the sensation of walking on air. Her wrist burns under the warmth of his fingers.

When they finally slow to a stop Rinea's gaze is shyly at the ground. All is silent; she cannot form any words. Such an illusion was not her fault, then? Or maybe not entirely her fault? The revelation washes over her from her toes to the tips of her hair. The dim garden around them seems to shimmer.

"Rinea," the vision had said. To hear her name in his voice, alone... Even just that much...]

Um, Lor--... ..Somnus.

[The pace they'd taken away from the vision was hurried, but it wasn't fast enough to require exertion. She has no excuse for how rapidly her heart is beating.]

I will put everything out of my mind if you wish. One word and it is all forgotten. But... [She bites her lip, lets it go, turns her hopeful face up to seek his gaze.]

Do you... have something you would like to say to me?

[ He has no particular spot to which he guides her, only that it must be far away from that— that scene, visible, definite proof of his failing to curb the heaviness within his heart. Mind both preoccupied and intensely focused at once, he says not a word to her as they walk, looking anywhere but her. (No one can control their dreams, but who is he to have such an untoward imagination revealed, some hapless youth? Surely, he’s offended her.)

They pass by the outside of more of the garden, a stone fountain, the corner of the banquet hall, windows alight and warm and golden. When they stop at last… they haven’t truly traveled far. It’s still quiet, it’s still private. It’s still.

She looks up at him, and her hopeful expression is not something he would have guessed she’d show. Why. Should she not be stricken? Disgusted?

His own expression is closed, tight, until his brow lowers with remorse. So now she knows, this well-guarded secret of his. It is more than just the physicality that the vision had shown, for the manner in which he had breathed her name reveals the depth of his affection: to say her name without title but still honor her, cherish her, to have that right to speak her name so openly, so intimately, so gently… This has all been revealed by the dream.

Of course he has something to say. ]

I have disrespected you. For that, you have… [ His head tilts forward— what some might consider a bow from a king. The hand that had dropped hers raises, and he presses his palm lightly to his chest. ] …my sincere apology.

Edited 2022-06-27 21:54 (UTC)

[Rinea's expression shows genuine surprise for a moment. But, then again... she shouldn't really be surprised, should she? Somnus is the most careful man she has ever met. Closed-off, even. How would this be any different?

(Berkut, too, dodged his real feelings, even if his methods diverged.)

She folds her hands together, unable to help an exasperated smile. He is kind. And maybe, sweetly, a little foolish. She is so terribly fond of him.]

...Your words are testimony to the depths of your courtesy. There is little to apologize for; you said yourself that the Isle plays with one's wishes. [Rinea turns her head away, smiling at nothing down the garden path. It's hard to look directly at him when her heart is beating so hard in her throat.]

And such tenderness is... is not so terrible a thing to wish for. [Her cheeks are so pink that they hurt.] Is it?

[ He raises his head slowly, watching her profile as she looks off to the side. The garden holds nothing but shadows and, quite possibly, more fantasies that act upon an attendee’s innermost wishes. He reminds himself: here, now, her company as it is… it is enough. It must be enough.

”Is it?”

He is but a man. A terribly stilted and stoic one, one has has worn nothing but armor for the past two thousand years, but a man nonetheless. He has overestimated himself in thinking that fulfilling the Draconian’s prophecy would be all he’d ever need, if only he had the focus, if only he could never be led astray. How foolish.

”Is it?”

Her words seem to echo in the silence between them, and his gaze lifts from the delicate curve of her shy smile to the blush at her cheeks.

But of course it isn’t enough, both her company as-is and the iron dedication to the Prophecy itself. Of course such tenderness is something that, with the revelation this Isle has presented, he can no longer deny that he wants. What a terrible thing, too, in that he wants more: to be tender to her, to hold her, her say her name, to— yes— to kiss her, to be in the presence of her smile, her warmth, her charity and compassion; more— to give to her, to protect her, to provide, to bring her flowers and silks in the spring, furs in the winter, figs and olives in the summer, and laurels of gold leaves in the fall. He wants that, and the realization of all of these wants is both terrifying and freeing. How far he has crumbled. How wonderful it feels.

Somnus’ shoulders gently slope with a quiet exhale, and he speaks at last. ] …It is not. [ She of all people deserves to wish, and have, any such tenderness. He continues: ]

Then allow me to speak, Daughter of Rigel. [ No— ]

…Rinea. [ Her name is a song upon his lips. It is surreal, to speak it. She is kind, to allow him to speak it, to be so polite about what vision she has just witnessed, and what it could possibly mean. But he would rather clear any doubts, to finalize this, to lay all spears before her feet.

His voice is low but clear, with a rumble of emotion that is smoothed by sincerity by the end of the sentence: ]

Each meeting and parting, I fall further for you.

[Even if the illusion had made it clear, actually hearing Somnus's confession is something else entirely. Rinea draws in a breath. Her eyes glitter. Her soul sings.]

I...

[She presses her hands to her chest to keep her heart from bursting out. She cannot stop smiling.]

I am so happy.

[Gods above.. what can she even say? Rinea is at a loss for words for a moment, just beaming. Even against all of the wonderful times she's had since arriving on Avalon's shores, she still has never felt this euphoric.]

There is nothing so formal in Camelot. Still... [Rinea offers a hand for him to take.] Will you court me, lord Somnus?

[ It has been a decade since his world has been consumed by night, but for a moment as he gazes upon her gentle features, he imagines that her smile is what the dawn will be when all comes to an end: resplendent and beautiful, lovely, warming all hearts with peace and hope. There is no doubt in his mind he is not entirely deserving to bask within such rays, for all that he has done...

But he is grateful, nonetheless, and so very, very humbled, that despite all, she appears to accept him-- and, in fact, appears delighted. That he can be the reason for her smile is nearly overwhelming, but somehow, he finds himself moved enough that his hand lifts from his side to cup beneath her palm, fingers curling against hers. The contact solidifies that this is not part of a dream, but reality.

To court someone had been a relic within the modern age, but he recalls its practice, and even how the practice had changed throughout the centuries. There is something nostalgic about the term, if only because there is comfort in a bygone tradition. Perhaps they will be regarded as relics themselves. Let them be, he thinks.

Somnus takes one step forward, close enough that he may better see the finer features of her face without obscuring the wash of stars-- lights reflected from the banquet hall nearby-- in her eyes. Gone is the hint of embarrassment from before. Now, his gaze holds a quiet purpose, respectful as if is promising her more than what she asks. He brings her hand upward, curling his touch, and then closing his eyes, he places his lips on the joints of her slender fingers. The kiss is delicate and chaste, and he lingers only for a moment before his eyes open to fall upon her once more. How lovely she is, in this moment.

His heart thunders within his chest, loud and powerful, but his voice is a low lull, carrying something just short of reverence for this pledge-- a task that he intends to fulfill to the utmost of his ability. ]

It would be an honor to court you.

Avalon Inbox

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject