07.14.3013: The Ignis Epilogue
Summary: Nitrim checks in on Soleil after their stay in the Ignis hospital.
Date: 14 July 2013
Related: The Edge of the World
Soleil Nitrim 

Soleil's Apartments — Royal Tower, Landing
This suite is a dreamy wonderland, a fantasy of deep sea wonders or outer space enigmas. Everything is black. The walls, the modern furniture, the floor, the bed and its linens and curtains. Then in the midst of the black, water tanks, full of strange aquatic creatures from the depths of the Havenite oceans. The light of the room is ultraviolet when on at all, and most of the aquatic creatures glow, or pulse light. One of the tanks actually possesses water that seems to itself glow, the bioluminescence of a thousand microscopic lives. It is altogether a stunning display, some dreamed-up conglomeration of different environments that somehow work in harmony. The haunting sound of water echoing, as if in a deep cave, the reflection of rippling water, bluish upon the walls, the chill of space, the captivating wonder of alien worlds.

The suite includes a luxurious bathroom that extends the aquatic theme, a bedchamber, a study that also serves as a sitting and media room. The only part of the suite that departs from the deep sea and outer space mystery is reached via a winding staircase, which leads to a small terrace with a fairytale-like feel. From there, epic views of Landing can be taken in, along with a wonderful view of the stars above at night.

July 14, 3013

Long days have passed since the ordeal at the D-4 Station on Ignis, and some, but not much, correspondence has passed between Nitrim and Soleil while they attempt to repair their friendship. Perhaps not the brightest of ideas, but Nitrim decides to call on Soleil unexpected. Slipping away from Volkan through the Ways, he travels to Landing where he requests audience with his sister, Reena. Allowed inside, he's shown to the hallways that lead to Reena's room…and then turns left. Minutes later, he comes to Soleil's door and taps lightly…

The door opens in response to some command from within. While some people find it harming to have doors on hinges which must be opened by servants, Soleil's little wing is thoroughly modern. So much so that Nitrim's been scanned before the door opens, and she's aware who it is.

"In here," calls a voice from the room where he had met her before, the one with an aquatic tank as one wall and a viewng screen as another.

He'll find her dressed in a filmy black silk kimono, the sort of bastardization that opts for comfort over tradition. She has one leg curls under her and the other foot to the floor. A pair of shades that completely conceal the eyes are pushed up above them as he enters the room. The room is dark but for the strange pulses and glows from her strange pets.

Finding the door already letting him in, there's an air of oooohhallrighty then on Nitrim's face as he's allowed. Slowly, he lowers his many-ringed finger back to the front of his coat as he steps through into the strange dark of Soleil's room. The door closes behind him and Nitrim turns the corner, coming to a stop in a lean against the wall to watch her, eyebrow lifting ever-so-slightly at the sight of her.

"Hey…" Nitrim says quietly to her, eyes lowering to the sight of one of her slender legs in the slim, black kimono. The teeth at the corner of his mouth bare in a grin to her. "Sorry to drop by unannounced but there were the messages, the everything. I wanted to drop in and see how you were doing. What are you up to, Sol?"

Soleil sweeps the shades from her head and tosses them to the table beside the sofa upn which she sat. She rises and heads to the wetbar to reveal a compartment full of various bottles of expensive liquor. "Haven't been sleeping too well, actually. Last week was a mindfuck. Want a drink? They gave me back my alkie." She pours from a bottle of clear liquid, and then mixes in something neon and purple, which swirls in spiral drops to the bottom before shooting to the surface of the glass on a stream of fiz. "Not really thinking clearly, lately. I've barely been sober a year and everything's gone weird."

Shrugging his coat off of his shoulders, Nitrim gathers the heavy garment over his arm and digs into his pocket for his pack of…nevermind. The last time he'd tried to have a cigarette in Soleil's room didn't go too well. Instead, he rubs his hand over the spot of the break to his collarbone and comes to a stop beside the couch. Coat over the back of it, he turns with his head to follow her. "Yes, please, bourbon if you've got it, or something else if you want to hit me with something new." He replies, scratching quietly behind his ear. "Speaking of which, I'm at the one month point. Thirty-days and no red. If you weren't so tired I'd be trying to get you into a dress and take you out." A beat. A twist of his head. "You wanna talk about it?"

She glances over her shoulder at him, a slight twist of her lips suggesting a wry sentiment. "If you'd gone to rehab they would tell you not to hang out with former addicts," she notes, "Just like they told me not to hang out with current addicts." Instead of bourbon, she fixes him something similar to what she made herself, with the difference being that the droplets she puts in his glass are black with a reddish halo.

After approaching to hand him the glass, she heads over to the aquatic wall. "Want to see something pretty wicked?" she asks, and without waiting for an answer she slips a thin remote out of her robe and examines it a moment. Then she uses her thumb to 'draw' a gesture on it. Moments later, tiny glowing creatures descend from the top of the tank.

Feeding time.

The 'fish' already inhabiting the water begin the bizarre dance of luring food, catching food, and devouring food. It is complex, almost a light show, the way various creatures practice predation and others practice escape.

"It's twisted but it's life, isn't it. Everything is either eating or being eaten."

"Fuck yes I want to see something wicked." Nitrim laughs, eyeballing the blonde as she hands him the drink. In the dim light, he can scarcely make out what the drink is. A tentative sip is taken, followed by the rather expected flattening of his lips. Not bad.

Turning, he follows her to stand next to her as she gets out the remote and initiates the feeding frenzy. Watching in silence, he takes another sip from his drink as her collection of strange aquatic creatures descend upon the lesser lifeforms, snuffing them out one-by-one. His weight shifts to the other hip, which brushes against her forearm while he watches.

"I've ridden in Daliah's mind when she's fed once or twice." Nitrim admits, his dark, green eyes tracing the outline of the tank-dwellers. "I sort of figured to get the full spectrum. Though we're all predators in our own way, aren't we?" He looks over to Soleil, quieting a little. "I'm just the dumb, dumb, special human being that didn't flee addicts while getting over it. Instead I sent my cache to my hacker contact in trade for intel. I went from user to supplier in about fifteen days flat."

"Ah. Ithaca." her tone is a little flat, though whether that's better or worse than outright tantrums of jealousy would be a personal call for him. At least she doesn't move away at the brush of contact.

The show seems like it could go on for a while. She watches, her face faintly illuminated with occasional electric bursts. "Some of this stuff is actually from Earth, believe it or not. Everyone thinks of it as someplace tame and mundane. It wasn't. I don't think it had any vertically orbiting death worlds looming every few hundred years though."

"Ah. Rook." her tone is a little flat, though whether that's better or worse than outright tantrums of jealousy would be a personal call for him. At least she doesn't move away at the brush of contact.

The show seems like it could go on for a while. She watches, her face faintly illuminated with occasional electric bursts. "Some of this stuff is actually from Earth, believe it or not. Everyone thinks of it as someplace tame and mundane. It wasn't. I don't think it had any vertically orbiting death worlds looming every few hundred years though."

"Yeah. Rook." Nitrim replies with a murmur, realizing that he's just tip-toed into uncomfortable territory. To settle his nerves, he swirls the drink in his hand and brings the drink back to his lips. A silence, uncomfortable or simply uncontensted, follows between the two of them as he watches the show with her.

"What I wouldn't give to go back and see it before we left it." Nitrim suddenly replies, eyes widening as he watches one of the creatures, maw open, devour some of the food whole with a newfound shock of electricity. "Nom. These guys don't fuck around. We didn't have all of the same stuff we do now, back then. Life must have been degrees harder." He comments, another silence filtering in.

Turning away from the show, he brushes a hand past hers as he moves back to her sofa. Sitting down on it, he stretches one leg out and his eyes fall onto her outline in the dim lighting. "You know, Flint told me I was the hero of the day back there, bringing that equipment down like I did on that thing. I…had no idea how to work through that. I was just trying to get you out of there alive."

"Mmm, all for me hm?" she says, a note of cynicism in her voice, though it is neither hard nor challenging— just Soleil. There's a long pause, because there's something there she hasn't touched on too. Something maybe he doesn't remember happening. She leaves the silence around that for now. Her hand finds the back of her neck and she rubs it slowly. "You do play hero a lot. You know, you really don't have to cram all this proving into a couple of months. Pace yourself." She turns from the 'tank-wall' and faces him, staying there a moment before she too approached the couch, becoming less a silhouette and more shades in between thanks to the peculiar lighting. She sits down, curling into the corner of the couch with her knees bent and feet up.

"I wasn't expecting any of that I was just trying to be…you know, useful to the family, myself. I am not sure what's up with Janelle since Emund took over, but I have a feeling I need to find my own platform of importance."

"In all fairness, Soleil, before I knew your were going to be there it was all for getting in and out alive, but the moment I realized I wasn't on a cake-walk I looked around at all of these knights and Lyrienne being a power-user like me. I was a little worried, I didn't know how you'd be in something like that." Nitrim turns to watch her sit down, eyes dipping to her knees as he switches the drink from hand to hand. Turning, he plants his hip against the back cushions of the sofa and drapes an arm over the back. "Not that you're some damsel that needs protecting but…I just didn't know. I didn't want things to end between you and I unresolved. That probably would have fucked with me more than those voices did."

He nods softly, staring off over her shoulder until he finds her eyes again. Yes. He knows. He's been playing superhero and it's not doing him the best of good.

"What would you like to do, Soleil?" He asks, ringed fingertips tapping gently against the side of the glass. "With Alexandros butted out of this place and a Khourni as hand, politics are strengthening between our two houses. I'm sure if we scored a few aces with my sister and I made it very clear to her that we are fine(ish) now and cleared some air…we could put something together through her." He pauses. "Anabethe loves me. She would listen to me."

"Your house has always been Roses with Emund," Soleil says. "My little branch of the Sauveurs— that's just my father and me— well hell if I know whom he supported. He doesn't think much of women and he doesn't tin much of men who go all to pieces when their wives die." She seems to muse to herself for a moment, putting a hand on her ankle and rubbing.

"I don't want to depend on some connection with Emund /or/ Janelle. That voice, the one that was just my own mind telling me things, it said I wanted power. So maybe I do. I think, if I have to work so hard to live, and be okay with being alive, I might as well embrace everything the universe has to offer. I don't really want to be a pawn, I don't want people telling me what to do. I don't want to watch someone lead the human race to its own destruction. What that mean I should be working for, I don't know."

Her face darkens so much that she'd look downright ugly beneath the expression of consternation if she weren't such an angel to begin with. "Most of the time I just want to go back to the way things were for me."

"And I don't want whatever accomplishments you gain to be bacause I was the gatekeeper or because I gave them to you, either. You and I both know you'd never be okay with that. You're better than some arm-candy trophy wife that gets to manage the business because her rich husband bought her an office with a comfy chair, but in all reality the peons do the work and laugh at her behind her back." Nitrim responds with a nod of him head. With one last sip of the drink, he sets the glass down on the coffee table and stretches his arm atop the back of the sofa until he can bunch his fingers over the shoulder of her robe. Contact affection of some sort.

"Do you really?" He asks, cocking a brow and lowering his voice. Head tilting, he tries to find eye contact with her. "You weren't happy back then. At least now, Soleil, I get the sense that while it's fucked up and difficult, maybe there's some kind of hope in there."

She tilts her head at him, the corner of her mouth twitches before turning up. "Talking about marriage again?" She eyes him, but it's not in ridicule or challenge, so maybe she's not throwing the idea back in his face. There's still some reserve there, however. Caution.

"I wasn't anything back then, Nitrim. And that was comfortable."

There's a pause with her watching him, and then she upends the serious tone by saying, "Anyway who's to say you wouldn't be the arm candy?"

"No, I'm not." Nitrim smiles with a soft shake of his head. "I'm not putting the cart before the horse when I've still yet to figure out if you poisoned that drink." He winks, though a certain quiet overcomes him at her dark words, and he starts to nod his head. He, too, was living a far easier life without any strings.

"Oh you would totally be the arm candy." Nitrim laughs, fingertips brushing over her shoulder. "I'm the Awakened would-be knight drake with the pet snake and the war record and the tabloid history. Though, I'm pretty sure there's a chance you'd be that girl that locked up the whatever-the-fuck they call ne." He rolls his eyes with a sigh. Tabloids. "They'd call you crazy, you know."

"I've been called worse. Every once in a while I'd make the tabloids too, back in the day. Most of the time no one had a clue who I was though. All that makeup. I'd get in when I was hanging out with Ariana and Keanen, because of course everyone on Nubilus knew who /she/ was, and then they'd ask who the freak she was babysitting was. Heh." Soleil half rolls her eyes and takes a drink of her own glass, looking off. "I really miss horrifying her. You know deep down I really think she and I can't fucking stand each other. I think she's boring, she thinks I'm a slut. Who knows, maybe I am just as wrong about her as she is about me…" tangent.

She looks back to Nitrim. "I'm just waiting for someone to do one of those articles— 'look what we uncovered about Janelle's glamorous Lady in Waiting! Her shocking history!' But really everyone has more important things to worry about. Or maybe daddy owns the company that owns the papers. I don't know. Not that he cares but people don't want to piss off Sauveurs. It is funny, how much I have gotten away with. So, that's the thing though, Nitrim. There's a past with me too. Just most of mine is very well-buried by Sauveur money and…" She trails off, them, surrpisingly, out of the blue, says, "I /am/ high you know. It's just a legal one. Am I talking funny?"

"Yes, you are, you said something about lobsters and martial arts and not a bit of it made sense." Nitrim replies quickly, rather on his top game tonight. With a twitch of his lip to show her he's joking, he trails his hand back from the silk on her shoulder to rest in his lap, gathering his thoughts.

Planting both hands against his ankle, he shrugs his shoulders. "But really does any of that matter? I mean, it matters who you are and where you came from, and you and I have a very mostly clear picture of that with each other. We've got enough skeletons to built a bone castle out of between the two of us, but if you decide at some point to change how you approach life, that doesn't have any fucking bearing whatsoever on where you're going."

She smirks at him but can't quite bring herself to laugh, and after a moment, once he has moved his hand, she puts her own arm on the back of the couch and rests her chin there. She looks off toward the back wall. "Where you've been always matters," she murmurs. She closes her eyes, and tilts her head against her arm.

"Hm, ok, enough existentialism. We've got things to talk about. First I wanted to bring someone in. You know him. Taryn. You okay wit that?"

"So long as he's fine with the anonymity factor, yeah I'm fine with that. I want to bring in Lyrienne as well, and perhaps Aidan Peake over time. Lyrienne is primed and ready to go, but Aidan I think is still not comfortable with the cloak-and-dagger of it." Nitrim replies, turning away from her. It's time to get down to business, and business means…cocktails. He takes the glass into his hand and comes back with it, eyes returing to hers. "I think Taryn is friends with Lorelei Quellton, by the way. She's a newly Awakened. I helped rescue her from an ice cave on her awakening." He mouths the word hero.

Soleil lifts her arm from her head, giving it a shake with amusement. "Must be a guy thing." She shifts, turning herself to sit on her other hip, her knees pointing the other direction. "I was thinking Keanen too, but it's more for his own good. More to give him some direction. He's still a wild card, you know, just a party boy who needs to grow up like the rest of us, but I suppose I can't blame him. But that's just a cautious suggestion. Taryn I am certain of. Keanen, not so much. Not at all in fact." She does nod to Lyrienne.

"And Aidan….uhm…you think? I don't know him except he was an ass at that meeting Eilara tried to hold. But I can forgive."

"Well, Aidan, like I said, is still using his own channels. I've spoken with him and he's not sold on the concept of an idea I teased him with, so there's no point yet until he agrees witth the vision. Keanen? I—" Nitrim laughs softly, reaching to his face to rub at his eyes. He scoots back a little and lays his shoulders against the arm of the couch across from her. One of his legs come up to rest alongside her hip. She's skinny like that. "I think Keanen would chase off Helena and some of the others with his lack of severity. There's a lot at stake here."

He pauses, cracking an eyebrow towards her with a smirk. "What, so being called to help and saving some girl's life is a guy thing? I'll have you know Lady Elodie Iah was the chief in the rescue. She's not a guy." He harrumphs. "I've done good things, you know. You should be proud for me."

She offers him a mild smile. Mild but real enough. "I am proud for you. I /did/ know you had it in you, though. But I think you should know— none of it's necessary. Not for me, not for your father. Because fuck your father, honestly. I assume you're doing these things to prove something to yourself. If it's what you need to do, then…by all means. But…" She shifts a little, adjusting for his leg. "I already know these things you're wanting to prove, butterfly. Ultimately, I wonder why you thought you ever needed me and Janelle to make sure you didn't end up some nobody with a desk job."

"Yeah, fuck my father. One of these days, maybe when I'm a knight or maybe when I've earned everything on my own he'll talk to me like he talks to Anabethe, but even then I know that's going to feel like a hollow thing." Nitrim returns with a bitter shake of his head. "I'm doing this, all of this, because I need to know who I am. I feel like I'm getting there, I do." His head tilt and he tap-taps her hip with the side of his boot. "But you, Soleil, I really did think he was going to ship me off. Michram said so. That night at the Ring, I didn't ask you what I did to avoid that. I just…wanted to make my own fate rather than let him choose it for me."

She drops her eyes, nodding to him quietly. "I don't get Anabethe. She's crass. Your father has weird taste. But you Khourni are weird in general, living in your volcanoes and digging in rock all day. For that matter the Arborenen and Cindravale are just as nuts. But I definitely don't get your sister. Oh well, I'll get you back for this dinner someday by making you go for a night out with my father." Her lips curl in a manner that suggests this is quite a foreboding promise. "I mean…assuming things…" She lets the sentence drop into nothing, and parts her lips for a quiet intake of breath as she looks away.

"So, now about Tommas. I need in on this. As I told you, my great aunt wrote me, and she wants me to come. It's one way I can prove— or pretend— that I am useful to /my/ family. So what do you know so far?"

Nitrim's eyebrow twitches and his lips part, about to interject, but then Soleil jacknifes and twists the conversation in another direction as if yanking hard on the reins of a horse. Even poor Nitrim has to rub at his temple to get on top of her new piece.

"Yes, yes Tommas. I—uh…" He sips from his glass. "He was looking into Awakened dreams and wanted to meet with me about something dark going on inside of the Chantry before he went missing. I had Rook scour the sphere for him, no dice. Aidan is looking for him. I am looking for him. If he's not dead and if he's somewhere hiding, we need to keep his ass about as safe as it can be so that we can talk to him." Nitrim bats the side of her hip with his boot again, just to be annoying.

She makes a face at him, a classic Soleil face, which entirely lacks the obvious stuck out tongue but with just a tilt and a twinkle of her narrowing eyes seems to challenge.

"Do you think…someone within the chantry made him disappear?" she asks, becoming more serious. "I mean if that's the case— no disrespect to my aunt but I don't know her. Until we find and talk to him we can keep everything under wraps. I imagine he might have some idea who's the danger to him. This is assuming he's alive. And if he's not, then we have nothing to protect. So, any leads at all? From what I hear you /did/ meet with him. He gave you no more idea than that?"

Bat-Bat, Nitrim's boot is starting to get playful, despite the macabre subject matter. Lifting both arms over his head, he bends them at the elbows in a rather X-shaped pattern over his crown, glass of alcohol dangling beside his ear. "No, he didn't give me any more than that, just something dark and needed to meet with me in private. At this point that man is either crazy, delusional, or something wrong is going on inside of the Chantry. That's thirty-three percent odds, which is high enough for me to err on the side of covering my own ass, and you should too." He smirks. "Just not fully cover it, you know?"

"Ha ha," She says, loosening a little though a little bit of reserve remains. Her eyes drop to the boot batting her thigh. "I /really/ hope you get those cleaned a lot." She shifts her hip, tapping his foot between it and the couch. "Based on what we have seen, I am going to say 99 to 1, he's not at all batshit. Something bizarre is going on with the chantry. I can't put any of it together, but it's just like when you're deciding if someone is telling the truth, or a liar. The little things count, they add up. Inconsistencies, oddities, it all matters. Here are the pieces we have so far—"

She begins ticking them off on her fingers. "One, we are having dreams about the chantry and the Hostiles that definitely mean something big is going down wit the Chantry. The Chantry is threatened by the Hostiles. Two, there's some kind of crazy cult made of /us/ that's worshipping Hostiles and talking about the Chantry being obsolete— OR," and she emphasizes this with a finger in the air, "The 6 being obsolete. Three, this priest with a solid reputation says something is going down in he chantry. When you throw it all in the blender you come out with something that maybe suggest there are people in the chantry who aren't all about the 6, and who are more about the power of organized religion." Thus says the agnostic— not that Nitrim has really had much chance to find out what Soleil believes about religion he may be getting a hint now.

"No, I made sure to stomp through the bathroom in flea-town before coming here." Nitrim inserts quickly as she gets to her counting. When she bats his foot, he baps it in again, but doesn't interrupt her.

"That's rather fucking likely, by my count, Soleil. There's enough weird going on, like the four priests that were not reported missing but were later found inside of one of the drop ships. Let's hope that those four bastards somehow got to the dropship after it landed and didn't come here with them. Then there's the issue of the bodies from the D-4 at the Ring. We'll need to get to those, too." He suddenly smirks, downing the last of his drink. With a laugh, he reaches out with his glass, saluting her with it.

"Milestone, by the way." He says to her. "We've got an entire half hour without cursing at each other." BAP-BAP. He winks. "The truth though, my dear, is that we won't know if we don't get a living witness or proof. Tommas, for me, is priority one."

"Agreed," she says, after a quirky smile to his salute. She inhales again and then puts her fingers to her temple, her elbow propped against the back of the couch. "We need to get our medical reports to Helena too. I'll contact the hospital on Ignis about it. Damn thse pills are giving me a headache though. Supposed to help me sleep but they've always been useless and never stop the—" She stop and looks hard at Nitrim for a moment. "I completely forgot…"

"Completely forgot what?" Nitrim asks, lowering his brows tentatively. Like a word of surprise being mentioned, he can't seem to tell what kind of surprise he's in for when he asks.

"Did you have a dream just before we went to Ignis? I mean…one of those dreams? There was, uhm…" She furrows her brow then twists her body and reaches for her remote, but can't find where she left it Instead she lifts a hand and gestures at the vid screen. A few gestures and verbal commands later, and she's brought up a personal journal, which she scans Of course he can see it too. The text describes a dream, which she speaks about.

"So…I am in a robe and I have this sense that I am…an executioner. All back. Like I'm in some kind of fucked up music video. And there's a knight in front of me, head on a block. I can't /see/ it, I just know it' a knight."

Soleil arches an eyebrow at Nitrim. "Any of this familiar?"

"Did you have a dream just before we went to Ignis? I mean…one of those dreams? There was, uhm…" She furrows her brow then twists her body and reaches for her remote, but can't find where she left it. Instead she lifts a hand and gestures at the vid screen. A few gestures and verbal commands later, and she's brought up a personal journal, which she scans. Of course he can see it too. The text describes a dream, which she speaks about.

"So…I am in a robe and I have this sense that I am…an executioner. All back. Like I'm in some kind of fucked up music video. And there's a knight in front of me, head on a block. I can't /see/ it, I just know it' a knight."

Soleil arches an eyebrow at Nitrim. "Any of this familiar?"

"Not a bit of it." Nitrim replies with a shake of his head, somewhat relieved. "It is interesting though, but I this is the first I've heard of it. If anyone else we know has had that dream, then no one else has talked to me about it." Nitrim replies, eyes to the screen as he baps once more, this time to busy himself while thinking.

He looks back to Soleil. "What do you think that it's about. Did it feel prophetic, like one of those dreams that you shoot up and out of bed when you have? Is it weird that I feel sort-of cheated that I didn't get it, too?"

"Yeah it had that feel," she says quietly. "I always wake up ill and fucked. And this was definitely one of those times. In it, I chop the guy's head off and then…that's it. Everything just fades to blood. It felt kind of personal but…" She screws up her face, looking at Nitrim. "I know a lot of knights but I'm not /close/ to any. Ellinor maybe? But I am not close to her either. If other people didn't dream it, why me? What the fuck am I supposed to do about it?" A note of agitation rings clear in the final query.

"Talk to others, see if they've had the dream, try to remember details about the armor and what color it was?" Nitrim offers, ceasing his flirtation with her. "For starters, Alexandros is angry at the King and the Hand. It could be the King or the Hand or Alexandros. It could mean that there is a knight that's a traitor." He adds, leaning forward to reach out with his fingertips, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Now concerned, his eyes grow soft. "So you've barely slept since?"

She nods faintly, falling still as he reaches toward her, averting her eyes momentarily.

"I haven't slept well un-drugged in a decade. But this past week has been worse, yes. I don't really know what's going on with the politics. I don't have the kind of relationship with Emund where I can go bother him either. I doubt he trusts me because of Janelle. I saw the look on his face when he heard I was working with her. Not that he should blame me. She's the only member of the family who even remembered I was alive. No one else did what Janelle did, so shouldn't I have a bit of loyalty for her?" But, Soleil is clearly conflicted, a conflict which is showing itself now.

"I think we're doomed, Nitrim." The last is much more quietly uttered. "I think the enemy among us is just as dangerous. More dangerous."

"We're not doomed until we're done, and if anything gets too hot for you here, Soleil, you come to the Blackspyre. I can protect you there. Janelle, Emund, we'll figure it out and for right now you and I aren't major players in the politics, but with what we're doing with the others we'll see some it coming ahead of time and we'll play it smart, okay?" Nitrim replies, taking on a more comforting tone to his voice and issuing some weight behind his words. He means them.

Sighing, he glances to his watch and then to her, taking note of the late hour that approaches. His tablet and earbud hasn't beeped; no one is expecting him. He pulls back from her and leans against the arm of the couch, wrapping his arms around his chest. "You're going to be okay. You made it through where we did last week, you can make it through anything. You've come this far, right?" Bap.

She nods, her eyes lowered, the movement slow. After a moment, before she rises, she says, "Family is good Nitrim, even when they are crass and generally ambivalent toward you. I think your brothers and sisters would do anything for you no matter what you did." Then she gets up. She walks toward his end of the couch and stands there a moment, her hip cocked.

"I'd ask you to stay but I don't think…it's a good idea. Not yet. But you can crash on the couch if you want?" So 'stay' of course means he would get a bed.

Nitrim reaches out for her hip, fingers pressing against the silk as he swivels his boots to the floor and uses her for balance. Rising to his full height before her, he looks down to her eyes and he leans in, pressing a soft, romantically-charged kiss to her brow. "I'll stay." He says to her, pulling back to get a better look at her face in the darkness the room provides. "I'll be fine on the couch, if that's what you want." He pauses, glancing to one of the doors in the back, presumably to her room. He looks back to her, reaching out to smooth one of the folds of her robe. "I'll keep an eye on the door."

She looks up at him, closing her eyes as he leans in and only opening them afterward. She is again looking up at him. What sweet words will cross her pale pink lips?

"It folds out."

Well, if things are still a little cool, it's still amazing progress for a single week. She does reach for his hand and squeeze it, only letting go as she moves too far away to keep holding it. "See you in the morning."

"The Saveur spare no luxuries." Nitrim replies, a simmered smile on the corner of his face as he holds on to her hand until the last microscopic point of connection can be maintained. Like a rock on a string, his hand falls back to his side where it baps against his thigh. Watching her walk off, his green eyes remain on hers. "Sleep well, My Lady." He murmurs, and then turns to the bed. Hands on his hips, he looks it over and reaches out to the cushions. How does one work these? Nitrim's too rich to know how immediately. He has people for this shit. Eventually, he'll figure it out.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License