"I need you. And you need me."

They had made some sort of "break-through" and while Verial had no delusions this night had solved all of their problems, it was a start. Still, there was guilt mingled in the air and Verial had the same lingering and chastising voice in his head as Deanna - the one that was telling him it wasn't right. Nevertheless, as Deanna crawled on top of him as he lay on the mattress of his bed, Verial was past the point of sending Deanna on her way. As Deanna inched along him, her skin and lips uncharacteristically warm against his own, Verial shut out the nagging voice that was trying to tell him this was wrong. All Verial knew was that even if the evening was short lived, for once it felt fine and it felt like Deanna.

[ Show content ] Eventually devoid of their clothing, their want for each other was obvious. Verial's desire was hardened against the palm of Deanna's hand as she drew him into her. Sliding in and nestling against Verial's waist, Deanna began to rock her hips along Verial. Noticeably, there was something different about this evening in comparison. For one, there weren't people dying around them and two, this was Deanna and not Sharay inhabiting Deanna's body. Because of this and after a very few brief moments, Verial was able to focus on the pleasure that was travelling throughout either of their bodies. The sensation of them being connected, at least for Verial, had made him feel more alive than he had in the past few weeks.

Verial knew that as Deanna rode out her pleasure, part of his whole thing was being driven by her anger and not just passion. The way she dug her finger nails into his arms and over his skin, the way she would close her amber hued eyes, Verial knew she was trying to unleash some of that hatred onto him. This, however, did not seem to bother him and like Deanna, he found his own hands gripping onto her flesh harder than realized. His hands sought her hips and the curve of her bottom as his fingertips pressed into Deanna as if holding her down and imaging at any minute she might flee from the lustful scene.

Believing this might actually happen, Verial flipped Deanna onto her back and pinned her beneath him. Her legs came up and tightly wrapped about his waist as his thrusts became relentless, demanding against the inside of her thighs. Deanna clung to him more, her hands grasping on his shoulders and arms, anything she could sink her nails into. Together, their bodies fell into a seamless dance of desire and occasionally Verial would dip his head down to place his lips upon Deanna's, their tongues meeting to deepen the kiss between the two.

Ages seemed to tick by as Deanna and Verial grew lost in each other, both of them glistening with a coat of sweat. Blissful moments, even if inspired by guilt and anger, eventually must come to an end. After some time, the pair found themselves climaxing together, Verial dipping his head to rest against Deanna's neck. His voice and his breath came out in a rugged almost growl-like sound against her skin as his seed filled her, the heated walls of Deanna's womanhood contracting around of him. Unfortunately, much of the night after this was but a blur. The only thing Verial could recall was that both of them had fallen asleep and that for hours they were entwined in the strange comfort of each other's embrace. [ Hide content ]

It was some time before Verial would feel a strange warmth lying across his cheek. Slowly, his odd colored eyes opened and as he gently turned his head, he realized the warmth was coming from a stream of sunlight that was filtering through curtains covering his window. Otherwise, the room was completely dark but not dark enough that he could not see Deanna was sleeping upon his bed and had not left in the middle of the night. This was somewhat of a surprise for him, but considering their evening together, Verial knew they had both been exhausted.

Verial's eyes drifted over Deanna's quiet form. She was turned on her side, her legs slightly curled up and one of them hooked around one of his legs. The obsidian dragon scale she wore on a black cord was resting against the middle of her breasts. He noted that by morning Deanna had some fresh bruises about her body, in particular on her thighs and hips where Verial's hands and waist had likely pressed too hard against her. There was also a subtle bite mark against the side of her neck, close to her shoulder, which Verial did not even remember doing but apparently he had. Verial himself was the recipient of scratch marks along his arms and torso. Amazingly, Verial could not feel anything open on his back so he imagined despite everything, Deanna had taken care not to cut him open further.

Watching Deanna sleep, however brief it was, Verial slowly began to feel that sense of guilt wash over him again. Verial had taken Deanna into his bed and while she was wanting of his same needs, he found his mind swarming over the ever-present question: Was it right? Together, they felt amazing but Verial knew with every fiber of his being that he should not have. Their lustful evening was simply fueled by a desire to feel something, to pour their anger onto each other through the act of sex. Unfortunately, he could not deny that part of him did feel different, as if he belonged here resting by Deanna's side.

Instinctively, almost drawn to her, Verial's hand reached out and slowly brushed against Deanna's stomach. The touch was light and for a brief flicker in time, he allowed himself to be gentle with Deanna. Verial could tell that Deanna was not eating as much as she should have, but beneath his fingertips she was warm and very much alive to his touch. This caress of his was interrupted when Deanna suddenly woke up with a start, a scream rising from her throat.

Immediately, she sat up which caused Verial's hand to drop away. As Verial rose with her, the tangled sheets from the bed falling to his waist, he searched her eyes to find only confusion like she didn't quite know where she was. A nightmare. Verial lifted his hands, placing them on Deanna's cheeks to still her, his fingers threading through her mess of auburn hair. Looking into her amber colored eyes, Verial searched for any remnants of her nightmare - of those blood-soaked ruins she normally walked through in her dreams - and pulled her from them.

It was a gentle tug and Verial felt intrusive for doing it. Normally he tried to make it a habit of not entering anyone's dreams without their permission. He made an exception which Verial was sure Deanna would be angry at him later for probing into her subconscious. Eventually Deanna had caught her breath though her heart was thudding beneath her breast. Verial titled his head studying her terrified face for a few seconds. After some time though, realization changed for Deanna and her facial expression turned from fear to shame at knowing what they had done. She turned her head downcast and Verial's hands fell from the side of Deanna's cheeks.

Silence passed through them for a few seconds before at long last he spoke, which was probably a relief for Deanna who clearly did not know what to do with herself. "It's okay. You can go."

Verial didn't expect to Deanna stick around for breakfast or anything. In fact, he was surprised she had even lasted this long in his company. As Deanna moved to slide away from the bed, Verial did reach out and wrapped his hand about her wrist, pulling her to him. Deanna looked startled, but Verial only lifted his chin, quickly brushing his lips across Deanna's, a gesture which was unsurprisingly not returned. Verial then turned his head and looked towards his window letting his gaze linger on the beam of sunlight that filtered through it so Deanna could make a quiet exit without him watching her. Verial knew that as much as his own guilt was weighted upon his shoulders, Deanna's was there as well. After all, it was not often that they looked upon each other with anything other than hatred or remorse.

An early riser, Sahar had woken and dressed for the day, happily anticipating the events to come. The previous day Edgar had shown her where the winter blue roses bloomed, and kindly informed her that by the morrow, they would be ready to pick should Sahar want a small bouquet in her room. She had returned to the Villa and spent the remainder of the afternoon doing something she quite enjoyed though most considered tedious, inventory. She had taken stock of what supplies there were in the kitchen and storage rooms. She made a list of what she thought would require replenishing for the long winter to come. Notes were taken as well for any herbal supplies and medicines she was running low on. All in all it had been a long, but productive day.

The desert healer found several friends in the kitchen staff as well as those who maintained and kept the manse clean. The servants in turn, quite enjoyed the magae’s quick wit and sense of humor as well as her kind nature. From time to time even Edgar would pop in the room where the ladies would be chatting and laughing away to join in on the fun, or to sneak a spoonful of the delicious stew that had been cooking all day long for the night’s supper. There were whispered rumors that Edgar secretly had a crush on the desert beauty, but all the jesting was done in good fun. Sahar had inquired on the whereabouts of the Lord Verial and the Lady ‘Amelia’. She had discovered that Verial had spent most of his morning and early afternoon with the Chaliceton lead guard regarding fortification of the city, not to mention their capabilities of withstanding what looked to be quite the frigid winter months ahead. The Lady ‘Amelia’, she was informed, had ventured off into town. It was assumed she had gone exploring. Sahar had breathed a sigh of relief for such welcomed news, quite pleased the two of them were occupied in their own doings, and avoided each other completely. This would mean less lecturing, less tending to wounds. Sahar was pleased.

When the sun had long dipped beyond the horizon was when Sahar decided to call it a night. As she crept down the hallway, she paused before Verial’s room for a moment. There was no light coming from under his door and all was silent. She smiled and decided to let him sleep, figuring she could check the status of his healing injuries in the morn. She had continued down the hall and walked past her room to stop at the door that led to Deanna’s chambers. Softly the healer rapped on the door, but upon finding no response, Sahar assumed Deanna was asleep as well and letting out a sleepy yawn, drifted back to her room for a good night’s rest herself. Things were looking up, she decided before falling into a deep sleep.

Her good mood had resumed the next morning as she woke before dawn and made her way down to the kitchen to brew tea. She would wait a little while, figuring she would let Lord Verial sleep before checking on him. The man was a notorious night owl, so Sahar was surprised that he had been abed for so long, but figured it was a long overdue and well deserved rest that he required to ease his mind and body of tensions and worries. The manse came to life and good mornings were heard all around as the staff began their day as well. Biscuits and pastries were in the process of baking, and thick slices of ham were cooking slowly. The scent of breakfast flooding the kitchen and wafted out into the hallway, drawing the attention of several of the groundskeepers as well as internal staff. Snow had begun falling lightly outside, but the sun was shining to keep the cold temperatures at bay. Sahar couldn’t imagine a more perfect morning. Humming to herself, she headed upstairs to stop in her quarters quickly for some clean linens and ointments. Lord Verial should be up by now, she thought as she gathered her supplies in hand.

When she stepped back into the hallway, she nearly dropped everything in hand. Sneaking out of Verial’s room, barefoot as her boots were clutched to her chest, her gown from the previous day rumpled with its laces undone, was Deanna. She closed the door quietly behind her and turned, finally spotting Sahar who stared at her with blatant stunned surprise. The magae did not blink, did not even move as she speared Deanna with an incredulous look, the other woman had the grace to look away in embarrassment, but that was quickly followed by disgust and anger as she met Sahar’s honeyed gaze without flinching. Sahar was not some naive girl that she wasn’t completely aware of the ‘walk of shame’ Deanna was about to perform back to her room.

Sahar opened her mouth to speak several times, but no words formed. Deanna had this strange look upon her face, as if someone performed ritual sacrifice on a puppy in front of her, not exactly the glow one would have after…Sahar felt her head shake side to side in disapproval and perhaps a bit of disgust, but there was no denying the pity she felt for the woman and her Lord. Deanna was silent as she picked up her pace to brush right past Sahar, but the magae was quick to reach out and grab at Deanna’s forearm, stopping her in her tracks. The healer’s critical eye had glanced over the woman and noted the dark smudges under her amber eyes, a frown forming as she caught sight of the rather ugly bruise that appeared on the lower part of her neck. Was that a bite?

“Deanna,” Sahar asked in a carefully neutral tone. “Are you alright?”

The woman stared at her for a second, adopting a blank look before shrugging out of Sahar’s grip. “Alright? No. No, I’m not.” Deanna did not elaborate as she bolted to her room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Sahar sighed, closing her eyes as she murmured prayers to the gods for strength, for her own sanity. As an afterthought, she added Verial and Deanna into the mix, but the healer swore that by the year’s end, she would take up drinking because of the two of them.

She knocked quietly on the door to Verial’s room, hoping to give him a head’s up that she was about to enter. The last thing she wanted was to see her Lord’s naked…well anything. Keeping her eyes downcast, she opened the door and announced her presence, but Verial was not in his room. Setting her supplies on the table, she arched a brow at the unmade bed before continuing through the room to the bath area. Sahar paused in mid step to bend over, plucking what used to be a rather lovely pair of underwear off the floor, snickering as heard the sound of water sloshing around from the bathroom. “I’m coming in. Make yourself decent.”

Sahar found Verial in the tub, his arms resting on the edges, looking gloomy and miserable. He barely lifted his head to acknowledge her as she found a stool and sat down upon it. Thank the gods the water was cloudy and bubbly from soap so it hid bits of him she’d heard in great detail from Layla, but rather not see herself. His odd colored eyes were hostile as she regarded him with the faintest of smirks while holding up the tattered garment. “Let me guess? You tried it on and it didn’t fit?” Without waiting for an answer from Verial, she tossed the underwear in the trash before turning her gaze back to view him. Her lips were pursed in a thin line as she eyed the scratch marks that adorned his shoulders and forearms. It did not surprise her either to take note that he bore similar bruise marks on his neck as Deanna had. Sahar shook her head and sighed, and when Verial opened his mouth, no doubt to snap at her, she held up a hand. “No my Lord, you will silence yourself and allow me to speak please. I am your council as well as your healer and friend, so I ask you to please, shut thy mouth and open your ears.” She offered a faint smile to take the brutal sting from her words.

Settling herself upon her stool, Sahar spoke. “Believe me, you are not the only one who is going to get ‘the lecture’. I fully plan on speaking to Deanna as well, once she looks less suicidal.” This elicited a groan from Verial, who closed his eyes. Sahar sighed and pressed her palms together, struggling for calm. “Have you taken leave of your senses, my dear Verial? Did you not learn the first time around?” She threw up her hands finally, exasperated with him. “There are taverns in this town, quite a few of them actually! I’m sure there are a few wenches with whom you can lay with if that is the problem!” With that, Verial glared angrily at her. “Oh spare me that look, my Lord!” Sahar waved him off. “I am not so stupid to understand that men have urges, but out of all the women available, Deanna is the last one you should be ‘poking’. She’s not exactly stable, Verial and has violent tendencies,” she gestured to his latest marks. “How many times must I explain to you that the two of you are nothing short of destructive together, yet you still insist on refusing to heed my sage advice.” She sighed once more.

“Verial, you must understand that I am simply looking out for your best interests, and hers if truth were told. This is unhealthy, for if it wasn’t, you wouldn’t have this sad pup look on your face, and she wouldn’t appear as if considering taking a blade to her wrists.” Sahar spoke nothing but the truth, and Verial knew it. He couldn’t argue it one bit. “You both know this is wrong, that it causes nothing but pain for the both of you, in more ways than one. You are a smart man, most of the time,” she added with a soft smile. “I know you care for her in whatever way you possibly can, but Verial, it is apparent the feeling is not mutual on her part. Though,” she tilted her head in consideration. “I am baffled by her behavior concerning you as well.” Another sigh came from the desert beauty’s lips as she stood and reached for a towel, handing it to him. “I have done all I can to make you understand. The rest is up to you, my Lord. Dry yourself off and come outside so I can tend to those,” she nodded to the fresh scratches. “Then if you wish, you may yell at me for interfering in your personal life, which by the way, it would seem I am to be forever cleaning up after.”

Verial heard a knock on the door and knew there was no way that it was Deanna again. They had said their morning good-byes, if one could call them that, and those farewells certainly weren't the product of a romantic aftermath at all. Just guilt and utter frustration. Knowing that Sahar had made her entrance so soon after Deanna's departure only meant that the desert magae had most likely seen Deanna fleeing the scene of the crime. Until now, Verial didn't think of the repercussions should someone see Deanna leaving his bedroom. With Sahar in his presence and him trapped in the tub, Verial realized the possibility of this now.

He sat up some in the tub, eyes opening slowly and arms resting about the edges as Sahar entered into the washroom sitting on a stool by his side. When he noticed Sahar carrying Deanna's underwear around like a piece of evidence, Verial could not stop his previously morose visage from changing to one of utter surprise. He opened his mouth partly in surprise, partly to respond to Sahar, but before he could get out an single word, she had thrown those ripped garments in the trash and held up a hand to stop him from speaking.

Verial knew what that hand meant. It did not simply mean to be quiet. It was the hand of a mother and while Sahar was in no way his mother, she was his healer and council and was perhaps the closest thing to it. It was the gesture of her hand that could silence Verial so easily into submission to listen to everything Sahar had to say, because he knew without a doubt that he was in trouble. Verial wondered if fate had linked him with Sahar so that when he was not living with Sorvynia, his mother, there was always someone to chastise him for his wrong-doings, which he seemed to be doing a lot of lately.

Despite all of this, Verial could not help himself from letting out a groan as Sahar started to speak. He felt himself slipping deeper into the tub as if contemplating if drowning might be a better option. When Sahar suggested he go to the tavern and find a whore instead of sleeping with Deanna, Verial turned his head up at her with an incredulous and angry gaze. She waved off the look he shot her and only further insisted that he should not lay with Deanna since she was unstable. Verial wanted to point out that the scratch marks and bruises that adorned him were not the result of the two of them fighting, but that would have been a useless point indeed. There was no reason for him to let Sahar know that maybe he enjoyed the manner in which he received those new markings.

In the end, Sahar had finalized that Deanna and Verial's relationship together was an unhealthy one and them having sex together only complicated things. Verial knew it and there was no denying the truth in Sahar's words. Perhaps there was a small sliver of him that wanted to cling to the idea that during the course of the night Deanna and himself had made some sort of break-through. But Sahar's words only further reminded Verial that anything that they had felt for each other was simply based on feelings of guilt and hatred, the only two concrete emotions that the two could share. If they needed each other, it was simply because no one else could relate to their negativity.

As Sahar left and handed him a towel, Verial took it though his actions were absent-minded as he was letting all the facts sink in. Verial knew Sahar meant well and was aware that she had even offered him a soft smile to lighten the blow, but her words had more impact than she might have realized. Once she was gone, Verial left the tub and dried off, only dressing in a pair of pants so that Sahar could check on all his wounds. During this, Verial came to the conclusion that it was best to avoid Deanna or anything physical he might be tempted to do with her. After all, Verial knew Deanna, despite all of her fury as of late, was capable of taking care of herself. At this point, had Deanna really wanted to kill herself, she would have done it.

Once finished in the washroom, Verial pulled the stopper in the tub to let the water drain and headed out into the bedroom where Sahar waited with all of her herbs, bandages and medicines. He sat in the chair by his desk leaning forward in it so that Sahar could check on his back. As she examined him, Sahar mentioned the wounds he had received from his wings and lashings were healing much better now and that in a week or so they would be nothing but scars. While Verial didn't harbor the idea of having more scars, it was better than hearing the wounds had re-opened again. For quite some time, Verial was unsure if the spots where his wings had been burnt - where his skin had been charred - were ever going to heal. But they were which meant that for no reason would they ever grow back.

As Sahar finished applying ointments and then bandages to all of his cuts, Verial sat up watching as the desert magae gathered her things and started to leave. Sahar could tell Verial was not in the mood to be a conversationalist this morning. He didn't even bother to tell her to stay out of his personal affairs, because Verial knew really as his council she had every right to point out what he was doing that was wrong. Still, as Sahar was reaching for her supplies, Verial finally parted his lips to speak.

"Thank you, Sahar," Verial began. "I will put forth my best effort and try not to sleep with Deanna again." He paused for a moment and lifted a brow to look at Sahar almost curiously. "Though I still cannot believe you even suggested for me to pick up some random wench at the tavern."

Verial shook his head a little, his lips briefly twitching into what could be considered half a smile. Sahar only offered him a charming grin of her own in return as she turned the knob to the door and left him to himself.

(Verial Akilara)
It had been two days since Verial had his heart to heart talk with Sahar about what he should and should not be doing with Deanna. What it boiled down to, and Verial knew already because of the guilt he felt, was that he shouldn't have slept with Deanna - in the past, present or future. Sahar had made it a point to let him know that having sex with Deanna was the last thing the two needed and in a way, he knew her words rang of the truth. So, Verial tried to put what Sahar had told him into perspective and made an attempt to push Deanna and their night together out of his head, although there were fleeting moments were thoughts of Deanna seeped into his memory. His goal to focus on other things was made somewhat easier by Deanna locking herself in her room and avoiding him at all costs. Of course, Verial did not blame her and he would have thanked her for keeping some distance had talking to Deanna been an option. Eventually, Verial knew Deanna would grow restless and would set herself free from her cage, but in the meantime, they had time and space which Sahar stressed was essential for the two of them. It was late at night and not a soul was venturing through Chaliceton's Villa. The servants had gone to sleep and Verial was left to wander the dark Villa not having been able to sleep. A bit a ways down the hallway next to the Villa's main entrance, Verial found a room where there was a grand piano surrounded by a small couch and some book shelves propped up against the walls. After lighting a few candles, Verial sat along the smooth, black wooden bench that accompanied the piano and began to play, singing softly to the music. It was not often that Verial was able to play, but he had never forgotten since he learned as a child. In some ways, it was a comfort to him and for a brief few moments, he stole a chance to relax while letting his fingers glide across the ivory keys.

(Deanna DiCorvino)
Invisibility had been Deanna's weapon of choice the past couple of days, and though isolating one's self might cause some to go stir crazy, for her it was a time to reflect. Truth be told, it wasn't simply Verial she was avoiding, but Sahar as well. The healer meant well, Deanna knew, and had everyone's best interests at heart, but Deanna wasn't in the mood for a lecture from the magae. Besides, there was nothing Sahar could sit her down inform her that Deanna didn't already know. One encounter with the desert woman was enough, and Deanna had slid the bolt on her door and refused to answer it or acknowledge any who made the futile attempt to contact her. Edgar, bless his little wizened heart, would come by from time to time leaving a tray of food for the Lady Amelia. Naturally it went untouched as she found herself lacking in appetite. Part of her admired the older man's determination to entice her with food, but truthfully her stomach was a queasy mess these days, something she chalked up to stress and nerves. She slept quite a bit, and when tired of doing that, Deanna would pluck a book from the shelf that contained a select few and read, though the variety was poor. Most of it was poetry, and it took everything she had not to toss the books into the fire. She had found one book of interest, for it had to do with history of wars during a particular time period, but she found herself re-reading sentences over and over again, her attention often drifting toward a particular drow Lord. On the eve of the second night when Deanna was positive all were abed, she had snuck down to the bathing chamber. After deeming herself clean, she dried herself and with her hair still damp, donned the soft grey chemise she brought with her. The nightgown reached mid calf with bell shaped sleeves and laces in the front. It was freshly laundered and rather comfortable. She left her laundry in the chamber knowing one of the maids would venture down in the morning and padding barefoot in the hallway, considered sneaking into the kitchen for something to eat when she heard the music playing. It was softly subtle, but her sensitive ears picked up on the sound. Wondering who could be up at this time of night, and seriously considering that she was hearing things, Deanna followed the sound toward the entryway of the Villa. She caught sight of light flickering from one room, and curiousity getting the best of her, crept closer until she stood in the doorway. Stifling a groan, for honestly she should have known it was him, Deanna was about to turn on her heel and sneak away unnoticed. She stopped herself, knowing she was being childish, and drawing a deep breath Deanna found herself entering the room where Verial sat at the piano. She hated to admit she was impressed and surprised that he could play the insturment, not to mention sing...and beautifully at that. For a few moments she stood there watching him, knowing he was absorbed in music before finally finding herself seated on the couch a safe enough distance away. She drew her legs up, wrapping her arms around her knees as she listened to the soothing music, wondering how long it would take before he noticed her presence.

(Verial Akilara)
Indeed, he had been absorbed in playing. There were few times where he could tune out his sensitive drow hearing and listen to other things instead. Playing the piano was one of those times. So, Deanna, as light and stealthy as she was creeping onto the couch in the same room, went unheard. In fact, he went through almost a whole other song before he heard the sound of someone else breathing softly and realized that someone was watching him. Verial stopped playing suddenly, silencing the keys and lifted his head, opening previously closed eyes to spot Deanna sitting on the couch. Her arms were wrapped about her legs, hugging her knees to her chest and she had been watching him. In some ways, Verial did not know how to take it when Deanna was watching him as she did not usually look upon him with anything other than remorse or well... disgust. This look she gave him however was different. Verial couldn't be sure but he thought he saw mild interest and then confusion. Instinctively, Verial went to stretch out his wings, an action he usually did after playing the piano. Realizing once more they weren't there, Verial folded his hands in his lap and then regarded Deanna. "I was surprised to find they had a piano here," Verial said breaking the silence. "It's quite... nice actually. Do you know how to play?" In the scope of things, Verial really wasn't sure what to say to Deanna and he wasn't sure that casual conversation was the best (in most cases it seemed to infuriate her). He could have asked her why she wasn't sleeping, but he already knew the answer to the nightmares that plagued her.

(Deanna DiCorvino)
The music was as soft and soothing as a lullaby, and she found herself drawn to the sound, lost in its melody. It was only when the music stopped and silence followed did she realize he was no longer playing, and she blinked, snapping herself out of her reverie. The silence continued as they stared at each other uncomfortably and she considered something to say, but was saved by Verial who chose to draw the short straw first. Deanna arched a brow when asked if she knew how to play the instrument. "No." The word sounded harsh coming from her lips, and she chewed the inside of her cheek for a minute before blowing out a breath, feeling she should elaborate on her one word answer. "I am not musically inclined." She regarded him for a few moments, shifting upon the couch as she debated whether to leave or not. She could have asked him why he was awake, or asked him how he was doing, but she didn't. She wasn't sure if she cared enough to know the answers to those questions, or if it was just a way to break the tension between them. Deciding it would be best if she left, she rose from the couch and cringed as her feet touched the cold stone beneath them. "I did not mean to disturb you. I will leave you to your playing." It was uncomfortable being in the same room with him, and considering she couldn't find something to argue with him about, Deanna found herself groping for a topic of conversation, something she wasn't exactly a master of.

(Verial Akilara)
Verial would have been lying to himself if he expected anything less, but Deanna's answers were typical of their conversations when they were not arguing with each other. This was probably the shortest conversation they had ever had and already Deanna was seeking a way out from talking to him. He watched as her bare feet touched the ground and noticed Deanna wince slightly at the feeling as she made her way out of the room, offering an apology as she went. As her back was turned to leave, Verial's brow furrowed mostly in frustration. The easiest thing would have been for him to give up on this whole situation, but Verial was known to be stubborn. Instead, he let out a soft sigh heard only to himself and spoke before she could chance escape from his presence. "Do you want me to teach you?" Verial asked and as she would turn around, Verial moved some down the piano bench and gestured to any empty spot which would leave a good few inches between them. If he had to be honest with himself, Verial didn't even know why he was asking or why he tried to grasp for Deanna's attention. Part of him, however small and tiny it was, had convinced him that there was something else between the two of them besides hatred and misery, but that was a very small speck of a feeling that was quickly dwindling.

(Deanna DiCorvino)
She was nearly to the doorway when he spoke, and she froze instantly, rooted to where she stood. Teach her? She wasn't sure of what he was referring to at first until her brain clicked in motion. The piano. She turned slowly, her amber orbs seemingly wide, though it was most likely due to the dark circles that gave her that slightly haunted appearance. She watched as he shifted over on the bench and gestured for her to sit beside him. He was trying, she realized. Trying to be civil, trying to find some common ground. She bit down on her lip, hesistant to approach, but her feet betrayed her as they began moving toward his direction and her body followed. Though she had absolutely no desire whatsoever to learn how to play, she sat down regardless, fully aware of how close in proximity he was. She wasn't aware her hands were clenched into fists until she felt her nails digging into her palms, her body coiled as if ready to spring from the bench. Slowly she uncurled her fingers and lay her hands upon her lap, a sigh escaping her lips as she stared down at the keys. "I see your son," she began softly as she shifted completely away from the tutorial to Kyrian. "Mostly when I sleep, though lately I see him when I am awake." She paused for a moment, struggling for control as she closed her eyes. "I see his face, I hear his wordless screams, I smell the blood, and it kills me. In every scene that plays out it is the same...I know I should save him, I know I should try. I don't. I watch him die every time, and each time it is worse." She felt the moisture under her lids and opened her eyes, blinking rapidly to clear away the watery haze. "I can't make it stop. I can't change the dream...the nightmare. I don't know what to do." Why she was confessing this to him was beyond her. The last time they were together, and that alone gave her cause to internally groan, she had fallen asleep woke terrified. Kyrian. Always Kyrian and those faceless victims that hid in the shadows behind him.

(Verial Akilara)
A few long drawn out minutes passed before Deanna reluctantly came to the piano bench and sat beside Verial, but her eyes were not on the keys or him. He opened his mouth to speak, to maybe teach her something, but he realized she had not come over to learn how to play the piano - that she was only trying to be civil if that were possible. Verial looked down at Deanna's hands as she drew them into fists, clenching them tightly. Verial thought for sure she might try to take a swing at him which was not uncharacteristic of Deanna. Instead, her hands eventually unfolded, her fingernails no longer digging into her palms. She spoke of Kyrian, how she saw him when she was awake and when she was asleep, an ever present vision of death. Verial shook his head gently and looked at her, though Deanna was obviously closing her eyes repeatedly in order to avoid anything remotely like crying. "Your nightmares may disappear if you stop blaming yourself, Deanna. It's not your fault; you were not capable of stopping Sharay from hurting Kyrian. I have a feeling Kyrian knew this and that if he could tell you, he would let you know that he doesn't blame you for what happened. Kyrian wasn't capable of hating anyone. He went out into the world to travel - to find his footing in the world - and he knew that being so exposed to danger there was a possibility of death, whether it was by Sharay’s hand or anyone elses. Still, he went when he could have stayed safe home with my mother." Verial looked down at the keys of the piano and then towards the candles which were each flickering with a single flame. "I can make your dreams stop, but that's only if you want me to and I'm almost positive you don't."

(Deanna DiCorvino)
How he could speak of his son in such a casual manner was mind-boggling and Deanna turned to stare at him with angry eyes. "You want me to forgive myself?" The laughter rose in her throat. "You believe I am so stupid that I do not know I was not directly responsible?" She shook her head and shifted so she faced him. "That doesn't change the fact that I remember, Verial. That it's stored in here," She tapped at her temple with a forefinger. "My fault...Sharay's fault...changes nothing." She frowned as she wiped at her eyes. "The fact is that he didn't stay with your mother, Verial. The fact is that Elijah tore his throat out while I watched. Those are the facts." Her words were bitter laced. "You...simply accept this. I cannot. I will never just accept it, or forget it, and never will I forgive myself." She turned away from him as his last sentence replayed in her head. "You know me so well, do you? 'Almost positive', are you?" She stood then abruptly and slid from behind the piano so that she could stand before him, looking down at him. "You can make them stop, is that right Verial? How?" She smiled then and it was nothing short of cruel. "Going to magically appear in my dreams? Is that some angelic thing your people do? Oh, but wait!" She leaned forward so that she was nearly face to face with him. "You're no longer an angel, are you, Verial? I took your wings, just as I took your son." Her face was a crumpled mask of pain as she withdrew, taking a step back. "Tell me again," she whispered, "how I shouldn't blame myself. Tell me how it isn't my fault." She viewed him through amber eyes that burned with hate and guilt.

(Verial Akilara)
It was not as though he was being casual or even trying to, but he could see where it might have come off that way. After all, with the loss of his wings, he had been out of touch with every emotion that wasn't really anything besides anger and guilt. Nevertheless, there was a considerable amount of emotional weight that Deanna had dumped on him just then with her sarcasm and bitter words. Somewhere in the back of his head, Verial knew that Deanna was trying to get Verial to express some sort of hatred for her. Any normal person would have; any other person would have kicked Deanna out on the streets. Still, Verial did not - even when she further wounded him by blatantly pointing out his loss of wings, his loss of angelic blood and once more, the loss of his son. At long last, Verial stood slowly placing a hand on the piano keys to steady himself, a cacophony of sounds resulting. "You misunderstood what I said. I do not expect you to easily forgive or for you to stop blaming yourself right away. I am aware these things do not happen overnight," Verial said. He found his footing and then moved away from the piano bench to stand in the door way to look at Deanna. "But what do I know? Ah, that's right. Nothing." Verial gave Deanna what could be considered a shrug, but it was a half-hearted one. As she stared at him with amber eyes laced with hate, Deanna might notice something that was visible in Verial that had not been there in quite some time. Sadness. Perhaps there was some pity there was well, but it was mostly sadness in his odd colored eyes. Deanna would not have long to linger on this however, as Verial moved passed her and headed down the hallway, likely to his bedroom.

(Deanna DiCorvino)
It would seem she was doomed to forever make mistakes, and by coming here instead of heading straight to the kitchen or her room was another one to add to her list of many. She closed her eyes after he left the room, her hand resting upon the piano. There was no way she was following him, for she knew that it would lead into hurtful words and eventually physical blows that would most likely start from her. She sat down upon the bench, letting out a slow even pent-up breath as her fingers grazed over the black and white keys. "What do you know?" She repeatedly the question softly as her fingertips traced over each rectangular key. "What do I know?" She questioned as she rested her elbows upon the piano keys and cupped her head in her hands. "I know I can't do this anymore," her words were quietly spoken to herself. "I'm not strong enough to do this, I'm not." She buried her head in her hands and just concentrated on breathing, each breath was another shallow cut to her heart. The heaviness she felt upon her chest was making it near impossible to catch her breath and she forced herself to concentrate. If he could hate her. If he could lash out at her. If he could cause her the same pain she caused him, then maybe, just maybe her weight could be lifted. He did none of these things, and though he believed it a kindness, to Deanna, it would have been kinder to take a whip to her as was done to him.

(Verial Akilara)
Each step Verial took was a heavy one and the walk down the hallway was taken with slow steps as if Verial was numb and couldn't quite find his own footing. Something Deanna had said pressed deep into Verial's soul and latched on like a sort of venom. When he first heard the news of his son's death, Verial was allowed a few moments to himself before being swept back into his Protector Regent role. He had never allowed himself to grieve. He had never blamed anyone for Kyrian's death, because his son was dead. What more could be done about it? On most nights, Verial left his door unlocked, in case Sahar or Deanna (for some odd reason) needed him. Tonight, he locked and bolted it shut, pressing firmly on the door for good measure. Although he knew it wouldn't be pried open easily, Verial needed to feel something solid and strong against his own fingers. Withdrawing from the door, Verial moved to his bed and sat down, his back against the head board and briefly wishing he had his raven feathered wings to lean against. For quite some time, Verial sat with his legs bent at the knees slightly, seemingly staring off into nothing. Then, as if something broke inside of him, Verial felt something warm and hot against his cheeks, a liquid that surfaced from the corner of his eyes to trail down his cheeks. He had not shed any tears for Kyrian up until this moment, because for some reason he was trying to be strong for... well no one. Eventually Verial managed to lift his hands to wipe at and smother away any additional tears that made an attempt at surfacing. He tilted his head to look at the blackness of the ceiling in his room, letting a long, shaky sigh draw from his lips. "Forgive me, Kyrian. I should have been there with you." After some time, Verial lowered his head and sunk down against the headboard of his bed to eventually lie on his side. Sleep, unfortunately, was not something that was going to come easy.

(Deanna DiCorvino)
The pain was sharp and immediate and Deanna had to catch her breath as she felt it. Had she not been sitting, it would have brought her to her knees, and she had yet to understand why she was feeling the way she felt. Sure she had been thinking about Kyrian, lamenting over her own failures and guilt, but this feeling had just sprung on her out of nowhere. What started out as a dull throbbing ache that was her sadness had manifested into something so intense it stole her breath momentarily. It overwhelmed her, strangled her, and she scrambled to her feet and ran from the room. In her madness, she did not think of where to go, but allowed herself to be led by her own emotions. Taking two, three steps at a time, she skidded finally to a halt in front of Verial's door and without thinking, yanked on the handle to open the door. It was locked, and she cried out in frustration, her rage, her pain intensified as well as her fear as she jerked violently at the handle. The force of her strength snapped the metal from the wood, and she began to cry as she held the broken door handle in her hand. He had locked her out to get away from her, finally having enough of anger and accusations. Having enough of her in general. Shutting her out was not an option for her, even though she had done the same to him so many times before. This time it was different. This time her head pounded making it impossible for her to think clearly. This time her grief was so overpowering it was consuming her, choking her. She slammed her palms against the thick wooden door repeatedly, knowing the act would wake Sahar if he did not open the door. "Please," she whispered in her hoarse voice thick with tears, her hands slapping against the wood until they stung. He had every right to leave her there, to ignore her pleas, but would he do it?

(Verial Akilara)
Those tears of his were let out because he was aware that eventually there would be nothing left for him to shed. No grief, no sadness, no ounce of emotion. Like Deanna had said, he was no longer an angel, or at least he was very quickly losing that part of himself and realizing he didn't have much to hold on to keep it alive. These thoughts were drowning him in a way and he felt himself swallowing thickly as he lay silent on his bed. The darkness of his room was consuming him and his fingers sought the blankets on his bed, wrapping around tightly to feel something tactile. It was a few moments before he realized someone was pounding desperately against his door trying to get inside. It was not the insistent rapping on the heavy oak, but the snapping of his door handle from the outside that broke Verial's trance. Verial looked up towards the door and listened. Somewhere in the middle of all the knocking on the door Verial heard a voice - Deanna's - weakened and thick with pain, begging him to let her inside. Verial hesitated, part of him knowing that the last thing he wanted to do right now was to see Deanna. The other part of him knew she would break it down if she felt the need to. Almost reluctantly, Verial pushed himself from the bed and walked towards the door, opening the broken knob from the inside. Deanna looked startled to see that he had opened the door for her, her hand paused in midair from striking the door again. After Verial waved her inside, he shut the door behind her and looked to her wide and frightened eyes. "What is it?" he asked, though his voice was quiet and perhaps unlike anything she had heard from him before.

(Deanna DiCorvino)
She lifted her hands to strike once more at the door when it opened, and she halted her movements to avoid striking Verial in the face. He ushered her inside, though she would have forced her way in regardless and began her frenzied pace back and forth, her aching fingers clenching and unclenching the dragon scale that hung from its cord around her neck. "I don't know." Her eyes seemed enormous and panic filled as she stopped dead in her tracks and ran a hand through her hair. "Hurts...so bad...I don't know." She let out a shaky breath as she finally lifted her head to look at him, and that was all it took. The look in his eyes was nothing short of tragic, heartache was written across his face, and the tears had not quite dried on his cheeks. Deanna bore an identical appearance, and it was then at that moment she knew what to say. "He's gone," She said so quietly even she wasn't sure if she had spoken aloud or not. "He's gone, Verial. I'm so sorry...so very sorry...," her words died as she walked to him, and without thinking, she slid her arms around his waist, holding onto him with everything she had. She buried her face against his neck and began to weep. She wept for Kyrian, and for Verial, and somewhere in all of that sadness, she managed to weep for herself as well. "So...so...sorry..." she whispered and as she sobbed, she felt the scale that lay between her breasts grow warm for reasons she couldn't begin to fathom.

(Verial Akilara)
Deanna broke down before him and while Verial was trying to keep himself somewhat collected in her presence, he had done a bad job. Clearly she had seen the grief that was written on his face only moments before still lingering. She was pacing and clenching her fingers around the scale she wore almost in a possessive manner. Verial eyed the trinket, wondering if perhaps he should take it away. That thought was shaken though, as he knew removing it from Deanna would destroy her. Verial wanted to reach out and stop her pacing, but eventually Deanna had done it herself. Although Deanna knew what to say at that moment, a revelation striking her about Kyrian, Verial did not. Deanna apologized for the loss of Kyrian and as her words fell short, she went to Verial and fell against him, her arms about his waist and her face buried against the crook of his neck. Verial was mostly stunned and he didn't know how to respond to Deanna's heart felt apologies and to her tears that soaked his skin. After some time, however, Verial seemed to snap out of it. His arms drew around Deanna's form to circle about her sides and pull her closer, his hands pressed against her back. Verial rested the side of his cheek against the top of her head as Deanna cried against his shoulder and neck. Verial's odd colored eyes closed as Deanna clung to his embrace and she to his. At long last, he found his voice once more. "I forgive you, Deanna."

Winter was rapidly approaching. Daylight was growing shorter, and the temperature grew colder. Arthuran seemed at the edge of the world, a forgotten wasteland of ice and howling winds, of perpetual snow and frost. Deanna had heard though, that during spring and summer months, the land was actually quite beautiful to behold, lush and green. Presently though, white powdery snow covered the landscape, including the city of Chaliceton. It was difficult to imagine warmth here that wasn’t induced by a fire pit.

Currently the woman who was known to some as Lady Amelia was traveling on foot through the main street of Chaliceton where several shops were opened for business. It wasn’t quite lunchtime yet, and Deanna had some time to kill before meeting Sahar in the pantry storage area in the villa. During one of her rare appearances at dinner, Sahar had politely asked Deanna if she would assist her in rearranging and organizing their supplies, and though sorely tempted to refuse, Deanna relented knowing she could not hide away in her room forever. Besides, Sahar had pointed out it would be good for the staff to grow accustomed to seeing the rather elusive Lady out and about, and Deanna had to agree.

She had dressed for the day and found herself down in the kitchen area where the women were busy cooking and gossiping. Encouraged by their warm smiles and insane desire to feed her, Deanna spoke little, but mustered up a smile or two as bowls of delicious smelling food were placed before her. “You need to fatten up some, my Lady. You’ll need the added warmth this coming winter.” Deanna tried not to smirk, for she had never been fat in her life, but she was well aware she lacked the toned physique she had prior to her death and resurrection. Still, she ate knowing if Sahar could see her, she would nod and smile in approval. “Maybe give me a pat on the head, or perhaps a cookie for being such a good girl,” she muttered under her breath, and upon hearing the word ‘cookie’, one of the younger women happily placed a freshly baked oatmeal cookie on her plate, beaming brightly to the Lady Amelia who just stared at her, trying hard not to laugh. “Um, thank you,” she said politely before taking a bite. Not normally one for sweets, Deanna grudgingly admitted that the treat was rather tasty, and could see why children would risk punishment simply to steal one.

Though the weather wasn’t exactly favorable, she felt the urge to explore the rest of the town, especially after finding out Verial was busy meeting with city advisors regarding the current state of Chaliceton. She thought of him as she lowered the fur lined hood of her cloak and donned her gloves before heading outside. Snow had fallen steadily throughout the night, and Deanna was thankful of her lined boots as each step took her ankle deep in the fresh white powder. A few sentries lined along the wall waved and bid her good morn to which she nodded and continued on her way. It wasn’t a particularly long walk to the center of town, but it was enough to give her time to think.

Verial had forgiven her for Kyrian’s death, and although his acceptance and forgiveness meant a great deal to her, it did not change Deanna’s personal guilt or self-hatred of herself. The nightmares had not ceased, and she often found herself waking up at nights to smother the screams that tore at her throat. Verial’s forgiveness had eased a fraction of her guilt, but nothing would erase it. She would live with what she had done, or rather Sharay, for the rest of her life. A heavy burden for even her to bear.

Her nose and cheeks were red, which was an improvement against her pallor, as she paused before a particular shop that specialized in gifts and jewelry. Never finding any particular use for such nonsense, Deanna surprised herself by entering the shop where she was greeted by an older couple who were chatting while sipping tea. After informing her should she require their assistance to simply ask, Deanna strolled about, browsing through the items on shelves. After a few minutes, she came across a particular piece that caught her attention. Hanging from a silver chain was an intricately formed dragon out of what appeared to be obsidian, its size nearly spanning the length of her palm. What truly appealed to her were the eyes of this dragon that were set with deep golden amber. It was absolutely lovely and unique, and Deanna couldn’t help but run her gloved fingers over it carefully.

“It is a beautiful piece do you not agree my Lady?” A raspy voice was heard behind her, and Deanna turned to see the gentleman smiling a near toothless smile as he gestured to the pendant. Deanna’s lips curved into a small smile and she nodded. “I can honestly say it is, but tell me, what is the dragon made of? It appears to be obsidian, but the pattern eludes me.”

The shopkeeper ran a finger over the dragon. “That my lady, is snowflake obsidian, which would explain the snowflake pattern is created by crystals imbedded in the obsidian. Feldspar, I believe.” His gnarled hand reached for the dragon pendant and he cradled it gently. “Legends say that because obsidian is so shiny, it is almost like a mirror to reflect the true nature of the wearer, and also considered protective against all negative spirits.” He watched Deanna as she gazed at the dragon with a soft expression on her face, her lips slightly parted. “The eyes, my Lady, are amber, though,” he grinned once more at her, “not nearly as lovely as yours.”

Deanna felt a smile tug at her lips. “You are kind, sir, and the jewelry is lovely, but I’m afraid I have no coin to buy it. Perhaps another time. Thank you for your kindness and your assistance.” She turned and was halfway out the door when he called to her, shuffling as quickly as possible in her direction.

“You are new to our town, are you not? One of the healers that arrived with the new Lord Akilara, is it?” He inquired with a tilt of his head.

“That is correct, sir.”

The elderly shopkeeper took her gently by her arm and steered her back inside the shop. “Then by all means, considering it a welcoming gift from me to you. I am Lars, and my wife you see behind the counter,” he gestured to a grey haired woman with kind blue eyes, “that is Evelyn.” He waited for a moment then asked, “And you are, my Lady?”

Deanna bit down on her lip, knowing in her head she should lie to hide her identity. The subterfuge was more to protect Verial and Sahar, in her opinion, than for her own safety. She opened her mouth several times to speak the truth, but in the end, she said, “Amelia sir. My name is Amelia.” Something about the way he looked at her with those faded rheumy eyes caused Deanna to realize he knew she was lying. It was confirmed when he exchanged glances with his wife, who took a moment to regard Deanna before nodding to Lars. “Well then, Lady Amelia. Please accept this gift from us.” When Deanna shook her head and protested, the older man wagged a crooked finger at her and frowned. “Now young lady, would you truly deny an old man an opportunity to give a present to a lovely young woman such as yourself?” Though he spoke sternly, there was no denying the twinkle in his eyes that forced Deanna to relent. “How can I resist such a charming and generous man, Lars?” She murmured with a faint smile. “Thank you. You are kind, both of you.” As he went to hand the pendant to Deanna, she held out a hand to halt his action. “If is it not too much trouble, the chain, sir. I am…rather clumsy when it comes to such and would prefer something sturdier. A leather cord if you have it.”

The old man blinked, puzzled by her request, but he did not question it and merely nodded as he brought the dragon pendant to his wife who exchanged the silver chain for a thin black braided leather cord. Evelyn leaned over and whispered in her husband’s ear, who finally nodded in understanding. Both husband and wife turned to look at the woman who tried not to eavesdrop, hiding her smile behind her gloved hand. “Lady Amelia, it is done. I trust you will wear this in good health.” He placed the pendant in a small cloth bag and handed it to Deanna who surprised the older man by leaning over and placing a chilled kiss upon his wrinkled forehead. “I will not forget this.” She said before bidding them farewell.

She chose not to continue about town and instead hurried back to the villa, knowing she would meet Sahar soon. Clutching the small bag in hand, she hurried to her room where she flung off her damp cloak and gloves and sat down upon her bed. The bag in hand, she turned it over and spilled its contents into the palm of her hand, holding the pendant up by the leather cord so she could admire it. It was beautiful, but Deanna had no intention of wearing it. Some voice whispered inside her head that the dragon, although lovely, was not meant for her. It was simply something she had to hold on to for a while. She placed the pendant back into the bag and opened the nightstand drawer where she put it until the time was right. All of this was entirely confusing to Deanna, but nothing that made absolutely no sense had ever felt so right.

Deanna’s fingers went to the dragon scale that hung between her breasts. The scale had not felt warm since a few nights prior when she and Verial spoke of Kyrian. It was cool now, which Deanna found strange. Perhaps she had imagined the scale’s heat, and truthfully, it wouldn’t surprise her if she had. With so little sleep, Deanna sometimes had difficulty distinguishing reality from dream. With a sigh, figuring she wouldn’t find the answers she sought sitting in her room, she headed downstairs to seek out Sahar.

The steam of the bath water rose and caused a foggy haze in the bath area. Deanna was quite content bathing in scalding water; in fact she reveled in it. The cold here was bone penetrating and she welcomed the almost unbearable heat of the water. She shifted some and raised her leg in the air, watching the bubbles slide down her skin to rest atop the surface again. A content sigh passed her lips until a hand snaked out from behind her to grip her leg to pull it toward her a bit more until she squirmed and it was let go to splash in the tub once more, sending water sloshing over the edge of the tub. She heard the amused chuckle of Verial as he tested her flexibility and she turned her head so that she could smirk at the Lord of Arthuran who thought he was being cute. Verial pointedly ignored her look and bent his head to kiss her neck just below her ear, and like that, all was forgiven. She was happy that the tub was large and deep enough to accommodate the both of them, or they would have had a nasty flood of water in the bathroom.

At some point in the middle of the night, they had left the council chambers and sneaked back to his room like thieves. Deanna had to chuckle to herself as she thought of the state they left the council room, and pitied anyone who had to clean it. Most likely it would be Verial, as evidence had to be hidden from the eyes of the staff of the villa. Deanna would never look at the rectangular shaped table again, and she doubted neither would Verial. They had resumed their activities in his room until dawn, and by then sleep was a distant memory despite their exhaustion. It was Verial who suggested a hot bath to ease their aching muscles, and Deanna immediately agreed, which surprised him considering she normally made a break for it back to her room, angry and upset with herself.

Deanna had to smile as she thought of their vigorous night of play. Whatever dark thoughts Verial had from his meeting with his mother were quickly erased as Deanna kept his mind, and other parts of him, extremely busy. Not that Verial was a slouch in any way. On the contrary, she was utterly stunned to realize how energetic and enthusiastic he could be when it came to sex. She settled back against Verial who seemed to have a terrible case of roaming hands, and Deanna rolled her eyes as she rested her hands upon his thighs until he found a particularly pleasing spot that caused her to arch her back and dig her nails into his skin. After a few moments of tormenting her, it was Verial who chuckled and smirked as he suddenly stopped and rested his arms on the side of the tub, leaving Deanna frustrated with need. She sat up abruptly and shifted her form between his legs so that she was nearly facing him, her amber eyes flashing dangerously with promised revenge.

“You thought I was a bitch before?”

Whether or not Verial believed her threat was inconsequential as he cupped her face in his hands and smothered her ire by kissing her until she was flushed. When she drew away, she narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s it? You’re slacking,” she stated in her teasing tone, but before Verial could make amends, she reached a hand up to brush a wet strand of raven hair from his forehead. Her act revealed the small scar above his green eye, and her features softened some as she brushed her fingers over the mark created by her before trailing her hand down his face.

You're a good man. I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want you hurt because of me.

The thought brought a frown to her lips, and as if sensing her thoughts, Verial kissed the top of her head and settled her once more against him where they lay in the bath water in comfortable silence. Verials hands rested against her stomach, and it was then that Deanna took note of the three inch wide scar that marred her flesh just below her ribcage. A gift from Terra Vale. This prompted Deanna to ask Verial softly, “What happened after I died?” She paused a bit then continued. “I guess you could start with Quinn. What became of him?” She felt Verial stiffen at this, and not in the happy way she was growing accustomed to. Deanna pressed on regardless.

“And that Terra woman? What happened to her? Is she still alive or did Alerion…err…,” Deanna’s brows drew together as she realized her error. “I suppose Alerion died as well because you were made King of sorts, were you not?” Deanna heard Verial sigh at that, and she groped under the water until she found his hand and took it within her own, lacing her fingers with his. “I need to know, Verial. I have this gap that I need to fill from the time of the war with the Val’nothe until Sharay decided that resurrecting me was the fashionable thing to do in Aleris.” She bit down on her lip as she threw out one last question. “Wish too,” she said quietly. “What happened to Wish, Verial?” Despite all the turmoil she had been through concerning Wish and that piece of shit Victor she so loathed, she had thought of the fae in the last few days when she wasn’t brooding over her “relationship” with Verial. Wish was, sad to say, the closest thing she had to a friend, or at least was at the time. Knowing her fate would put Deanna’s mind to ease, at least on that matter.

Deanna tilted her head so that she could look at him, and in doing so, saw the hard line that was his mouth. She knew that Verial would answer her questions as honestly as possible for that was his way, but just in case…she brought her lips to his ear and murmured. “You know, I’m pretty good at holding my breath under water. Just thought you might be interested in knowing.” The look on Verial’s face and the strangled sound that she heard vibrating in his throat was enough to guarantee that the Lord of Arthuran would answer any question she threw at him…and then some.

If the last few hours had proved anything, it was that Deanna and Verial were both far from dead. There was some sort of emotion between the two that while felt foreign - to Verial at least - it was there and it drew the two of them together. There was some undeniable need that the two had for each other and during the course of last evening through this morning, they had learned to shut out any disapproving voices, including (and Verial did feel a smidge of guilt for this), Sahar's.

Verial had no illusions that things were patching up and becoming better, but Deanna and him had found some ground between them where they could meet and finally talk without anger or hiding from each other. While he could never tell Sorvynia - his mother - the reason for his staying in Arthuran, it was clear to him now that a large portion of that reason was because of Deanna. Here, as compared to back home, he had some purpose, whether it was to keep a watchful eye on Deanna or to guide the people who lived in Chaliceton. Either one, he wasn't quite ready to leave and he did not want to give up.

Despite Sorvynia's rather defeated and upsetting departure, Verial was attempting to not be too bothered by it. There was a void where he had shut his own mother out and refused her plea for him to come back home. Nevertheless, that loss was filled by Deanna who was becoming that necessary part of himself that he lacked - that part being to care for someone, which was suffocated due to the loss of his wings.

So when Deanna agreed to stay and longue around in the tub with him, Verial was elated to say the least. There was not even a hint in her voice of reason that would convince her to high-tail it out of his room. She was staying - for now - and Verial was glad for it. Truth be told, Verial found himself enjoying the view as Deanna leaned against his chest in the water. He watched her every move with interest as she stretched out her legs and ran her fingers beneath the water along his skin and hers. The sensation of their lips together felt more natural now than it ever had been before and Verial took what he could and savored it before anger would return to either one of them again.

When Deanna began questioning the aftermath of her death, Verial became still wondering how he could sum up everything. Deanna was right - she needed to know something besides the things Sharay had done while in her body. The events that transpired after Deanna's death were not necessarily difficult to speak of, but there was something inside of him that wondered if his revealing anything would ruin the moment they were currently sharing. Verial was not one to deny Deanna the truth and he would tell her everything he could.

He did manage to choke a little on his own saliva due to Deanna mentioning she could hold her breath underwater well. Verial regained his composure, though he did lean back and smiled softly at her.

"I shall keep that in mind," Verial said with a smirk. After a few seconds, Verial sat up just a bit, Deanna shifting against his lap some. He kept his hands laced in her own and nodded softly.

"After you died, Terra Vale went straight for King Alerion. They fought, but both died at the same time. Some say that she gave up, but if we ever know the truth is another matter. The next day, myself and a few others - Maxim, Quinn, Madrin Kir, Wish and Victor Sage - were summoned to visit Layla Victoire in Grand City's castle."

"It was there that I had been offered position of Protector Regent or King by Layla Victoire and Maxim was given the role of Lord Commander for Elved. We both accepted." Verial paused briefly to unlace one hand from around Deanna's and brought it to rest against her stomach once more hoping she was not growing uneasy from hearing Maxim's name. "This is also where I had learned you were dead and not by word of mouth from anyone at that council table. Quinn had..." Here Verial stopped and swallowed thickly as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. "...been carrying your body around wrapped in a sheet. Sahar, who was there, was able to take your body away from him and she moved you to another room where she properly cared for you."

Verial watched Deanna's face as it appeared repulsed and angered over what Quinn had been doing, toting her dead body around. Verial shook his head and lifted his hand that was previously resting on Deanna's stomach to brush across her jaw. "After Sahar was gone, I was enraged. I ran across the room and tackled him to the ground. I punched Quinn a few times and hit his head against the floor of the room hoping it would knock some sense into him. He hit me back. After I was pulled away from him by some guards, I sat the entire meeting trying not to leap across the table and strangle him."

It was almost amazing how Verial told Deanna of his incident with Quinn Redmont. His words were clear and he did not falter. He let her know the truth about how he had attacked Quinn because of the way Deanna's body was treated with such disrespect. There was a moment where he thought Deanna would be angry at him for hitting Quinn, but instead she looked almost amazed. Her amber colored eyes were betraying her and it appeared above all, she was thankful someone had stood up for her when she was unable to do it herself, being dead and all.

"The last I saw of Quinn Redmont, he met with me privately to let me know he never intended to disrespect you. Apparently, he did not know how to deal with your death, so instead he took the more... extreme option of grieving. I could not accept his reasoning and told him so. I am still unable to forgive him for what he did to you."

Verial took a breath, having said a lot in the last few minutes, but Deanna had questions and he had answers for her. After all, Deanna only had him and Sahar to talk to, to fill in that gap of knowledge that she was missing.

"Wish... I did not know you were friends with her," Verial said. "You know, she was from Oneiro? Our goddess of the stars before the realm was destroyed." This was a little known fact that Verial was sure Wish did not tell anyone often. Verial didn't know if Deanna was aware that Verial and Wish were linked by Oneiro. "If I remember correctly, she remained in Grand City with Victor Sage healing many of the sick and wounded. About five days later after Terra's war, Wish was seen leaving Hinewai Harbor with Madrin Kir to help him on some mission in Chaliceton and there was no sign of Victor with them. I haven't seen her since, though if you would like, I can send Madrin a letter? I'm sure he might know her whereabouts, if she remained here in Arthuran or if she has returned to Eiler."

Maiwen knew things before her mother even did. She kept closer tabs on her only brother, because to her... Mythras didn't count so much. She had a fondness for Verial... or... Very as she called him with as much endearment as Maiwen was capable of. His life had went into a downward spiral in a very short time. Her only other blood kin tied to the Old World was dead... her nephew Kyrian. It wasn't that she was close to the lad... but with the loss, she felt a sense of her own existence become... less, just as she had when Psalm died. There were so few of them now, Dreamer's kin. So much about Maiwen had changed since she left her old dragon, Draco. Verial had given her the best advice. Leaving her child-hood husband was the best thing she could have ever done in her short life. For this, she was grateful... and felt... the closest thing to love as was possible for her... for Verial.

Maiwen had watched from the places that shadows fell, seeing the shift in the relationship of her mother and brother. It neither delighted her nor made her sad... rather... a part of her envied Verial that he could hurt their mother. The girl grew impatient, waiting for the best time to confront Verial... but he had taken some whore to entertain himself... perhaps distract himself. Maiwen sighed, twirling the end of her pony tail between her fingers... contemplating until she grew weary. With a lollipop in cheek, she was leaning against a towel rack watching her brother in the tub with his female.

"She is pretty," Maiwen declared, giving her opinion. "How long are you going to be with her? I was hoping we could talk. I miss you Very. Seems like mommy left really upset. The hell you say to her? "

Maiwen hiked her foot up on the tub and began to pull up her candy striped stocking.

Deanna was quiet as Verial explained to her the events that occurred after her battle with Terra Vale and the death that resulted. So Terra had fought Alerion as well and both perished? Interesting. Part of her was glad that the young woman hadn’t lived long enough to cause more havoc among the realm, but another held great respect for such a formidable opponent. She lay her head against Verial’s chest as he spoke of the meeting that later took place with the Lady Layla Victoire. Deanna wasn’t surprised to hear the woman had immediately taken over as leader to the people, for it would seem she was born to fill a role such as that. Nor was she surprised to hear that she offered Verial the role of Protector Regent, nor was she surprised to hear Maxim had switched sides to serve the Lady of Bariston. He would go where he felt himself best served for the people…and his honor. She grimaced at that. Honor indeed.

Madrin Kir. Deanna knew that name and searched her memory bank to recall from where, and then it hit her. She remembered the young man who fought so valiantly by her side against the undead army raised by Terra Vale. A faint smile touched her lips as she put name to face. He was the Lord Commander of the Grand City now. It was he who brought her to her cell, but did not treat her unkindly. Pieces were put together and as such, they made sense.

What angered her beyond belief were the acts of Quinn upon her death. Her expression hardened upon the discovery that instead of giving her a proper burial (which to Deanna would have been a funeral pyre), the man she had cared for had carted her corpse around with him until forcibly told to release her to Sahar. By Verial no less. She had released Verial’s hands and her fingers curled inward until her hands formed fists, so great was her anger, until Verial mentioned his attack upon Quinn. This caused her to look at him, truly see him as if for the first time. Verial had championed her? She wasn’t sure how to respond, since it was still so confusing, but just as she was mind-boggled by Verial’s actions, she was touched as well. Perhaps he would know one day, perhaps not. She made a mental note to thank Sahar for caring for her body (It was still odd for her to think of her former self as a body when she was very much alive presently) when Verial mentioned Wish.

Wish was alive. During the conversation, Deanna had learned a few things about Wish she hadn’t known before. A Goddess, was she? From Oneiro? Deanna had to smile. Trust Wish, the spitfire fae that she was, to appear the ordinary pain in the ass that she was, and not something truly magnificent. She perked up upon hearing Wish might still be lurking about Arthuran, and without that prick Victor. She would very much like to see the fairy. Verial’s offer to contact Madrin with hopes of locating Wish warmed Deanna’s spirit and she was prepared to accept and thank him for his thoughtfulness, when she caught movement and voice not six feet away from them which caused Deanna to nearly jump out of her skin had Verial not been holding her. As it was, she was unable to hold back the small shriek that sounded from her as she turned startled and guarded eyes upon the young woman who seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

She felt the hair on the back of her neck rise and without considering it, a growl vibrated in her throat. Deanna did not need a mirror to inform her that her eyes had bled a deep golden amber in response to one she perceived as a threat. All natural basic reactions for one being caught in such a vulnerable situation, and as if sensing she would spring into attack, Verial tightened his arms around her, but made no move to attack or protect. She heard the sigh from him and it was laced with anger and annoyance as the strange woman spoke, her gaze fixated on Deanna briefly before turning her attention to Verial who absently stroked her arms in an attempt to soothe her. A calm filled her and it was visible to Verial and the woman whom she found out through the brief words spoken, was…his sister?

Deanna blinked rapidly as she took in the woman who called Verial by some pet name, who spoke of their mother. This woman-child who all but screamed scandalous vixen, who reeked of trouble, was Verial’s sibling? This was how she paid her respect and greeted her brother, by surprising him in the bath? Deanna’s mind was racing. Was this how his family members acted? Just showed up for a visit whenever they felt like it, regardless of what one was doing? First his mother, now his sister? Did no one send ravens anymore? It was undignified and insulting, this invasion and it was all Deanna could do not grab the child who had the audacity not to leave the bathing area, and stab her with her own lollipop that she sucked on with blatant obviousness.

Deanna counted slowly to ten before gently prying Verial’s arms off her body and rising from the tub without any shame or lack of modesty. If his sibling was going to just barge in here and interrupt what was promising to be quite the bathing experience, Deanna would not give her the satisfaction of her wrath or embarrassment. Wordlessly, she stepped out of the tub and dripped on the stone flooring as she reached behind Maiwen for a towel. She briefly patted herself dry before wrapping it around her, sarong style. If Verial was concerned that Deanna would react in some sort of violent manner that would result in someone getting bloody and maimed, he need not have worried himself.

Deanna managed control even as she plucked a second towel off the rack, and shaking it out, she spread it wide to hold before Verial, indicating for him to get out of the bath as well. Since his sister did not have the sense or grace to leave the bathroom so her brother could exit his bath without giving her an eyeful, Deanna took it upon herself to shield Verial’s naked form from his sister’s prying eyes, whether to Maiwen’s displeasure or not. The Lord of Arthuran stepped onto cold stone and Deanna quickly wrapped the towel around his waist.

“Pants.” She said softly to him, and with a gentle nudge, Deanna shoved him outside into his bedroom and closed the door to the bath, leaving only Deanna and Maiwen in the confined space. She glanced at Maiwen to gauge her reaction as she found Verial’s robe hanging on a hook behind the door. Shrugging off her towel, she slipped into his robe and belted it around her waist. Naturally it was far too big for her and gaped in several places, but at least she was modestly covered for the most part. Running her fingers through her wet auburn locks, she finally looked at Maiwen from head to toe,and spoke to her for the very first time, a dark brow lofted.

“Nice stockings.”

The door was opened and she padded into the bedroom where Verial had finished fastening his pants and was in the process of putting on his shirt, presumably with Maiwen following behind. Whatever was going through his head right now, it wasn’t good, and Deanna could see it by the way he fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. Deanna stilled his hands and lowered his arms to his side while she finished the botched job he started. She smoothed the front of his shirt and lifted her face to lock eyes with him, offering him a small tight, but understanding smile.

Not particularly caring if Maiwen was watching or not, Deanna snaked a hand behind Verial’s neck and threaded her fingers through his damp raven locks to draw him down so she might kiss him. It was a chaste kiss, for she wasn’t one to give a free show to anyone, announced or not, and as she drew away, her lips still hovering above his, she whispered, “Another time.” She released him then and stepped back a foot. “I can stay, or I can go,” she said quietly. “You will not offend me either way.” It was the truth. Deanna was understanding in this matter. If Verial wished for her to leave, she would comply without any hard feelings and simply gather her clothes so she might return to her room. If he wanted for her to stay, she would do so, but promised herself she would not interfere in family matters unless she deemed it necessary. She waited for Verial’s response, feeling Maiwen’s eyes bore into the back of her head.