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The moment her hand maidens allowed the afternoon light to rip Agathe from her sleep, she had groaned wondering if she had eaten a handful of sand in the night as she smacked her dry tongue against the roof of her mouth. As usual she pulled the blankets over her head only to have them tugged away from her frame entirely, it was only when she heard the word trials that she had sat upright. Searching her memory hurt, rattled her brain like a coin tossed to a street rat and she had cursed the gods under her breath for forgetting, it was almost record breaking in how fast Agathe had found her feet allowing her maidens to fuss and prune her into something presentable yet relaxed as if she woke up like this.
This was one official meeting Agathe would need to play carefully especially so under her fathers nose, though he really should have known better considering Agathe had quite the pull towards a sharp jawline and for what she saw of his trials? Well, he was certainly locked in her sights now. Agathe wasn’t a friend to the word no, especially when spoken by her father she mused as she stood deep in thought barefoot in the center of her quarters. Sure, they had crossed in passing but never was there a moment alone long enough for her to learn more than his name. Not that she was listening with him dripping with sweat after his first trial, Archion? Athian? A’rien? Something.. His name wasn’t important to her, everything else was.
Atleast she wasn’t using the excuse of searching for a son, honestly. Agathe thought it would be easier to process if her father called his actions for what they were instead of judging her for the same. Afterall in her mind? She believed women should be allowed to do what men could, what was good for one was good for the other but plenty arguments were spent telling her she was wrong.
“Breakfast M’lady?” Politely Agathe declined as she brushed her way between her staff and through the expansive quarters down to the courtyard, the ground cool beneath her feet. She wasn’t sure if she would find the potential bodyguard but maybe the fresh fragrant air would centre her thoughts away from him, maybe her father was right afterall; maybe she was getting too.. Shameful in her ways, soon enough a soft crease appeared in her brow as she aimlessly wandered through the gardens; fingers brushing along petals they’d find, thoughts drifting from her mind.
The courtyard was a poor place to be if Agathe was to introduce herself to the potentially new bodyguard, the courtyard was a place where she could just be free from her ways and the disappointment, to be herself. Most didn’t bother her here, everyone in the family had their serene place and this was hers; grass she twirled on when she was a child back when times were simple; but then she saw him and he looked even sharper in the afternoon light for a moment she didnt feel the betrayal of her tranquil place holding company instead she standing a few paces behind him. “Making yourself comfortable?"
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The moment her hand maidens allowed the afternoon light to rip Agathe from her sleep, she had groaned wondering if she had eaten a handful of sand in the night as she smacked her dry tongue against the roof of her mouth. As usual she pulled the blankets over her head only to have them tugged away from her frame entirely, it was only when she heard the word trials that she had sat upright. Searching her memory hurt, rattled her brain like a coin tossed to a street rat and she had cursed the gods under her breath for forgetting, it was almost record breaking in how fast Agathe had found her feet allowing her maidens to fuss and prune her into something presentable yet relaxed as if she woke up like this.
This was one official meeting Agathe would need to play carefully especially so under her fathers nose, though he really should have known better considering Agathe had quite the pull towards a sharp jawline and for what she saw of his trials? Well, he was certainly locked in her sights now. Agathe wasn’t a friend to the word no, especially when spoken by her father she mused as she stood deep in thought barefoot in the center of her quarters. Sure, they had crossed in passing but never was there a moment alone long enough for her to learn more than his name. Not that she was listening with him dripping with sweat after his first trial, Archion? Athian? A’rien? Something.. His name wasn’t important to her, everything else was.
Atleast she wasn’t using the excuse of searching for a son, honestly. Agathe thought it would be easier to process if her father called his actions for what they were instead of judging her for the same. Afterall in her mind? She believed women should be allowed to do what men could, what was good for one was good for the other but plenty arguments were spent telling her she was wrong.
“Breakfast M’lady?” Politely Agathe declined as she brushed her way between her staff and through the expansive quarters down to the courtyard, the ground cool beneath her feet. She wasn’t sure if she would find the potential bodyguard but maybe the fresh fragrant air would centre her thoughts away from him, maybe her father was right afterall; maybe she was getting too.. Shameful in her ways, soon enough a soft crease appeared in her brow as she aimlessly wandered through the gardens; fingers brushing along petals they’d find, thoughts drifting from her mind.
The courtyard was a poor place to be if Agathe was to introduce herself to the potentially new bodyguard, the courtyard was a place where she could just be free from her ways and the disappointment, to be herself. Most didn’t bother her here, everyone in the family had their serene place and this was hers; grass she twirled on when she was a child back when times were simple; but then she saw him and he looked even sharper in the afternoon light for a moment she didnt feel the betrayal of her tranquil place holding company instead she standing a few paces behind him. “Making yourself comfortable?"
The moment her hand maidens allowed the afternoon light to rip Agathe from her sleep, she had groaned wondering if she had eaten a handful of sand in the night as she smacked her dry tongue against the roof of her mouth. As usual she pulled the blankets over her head only to have them tugged away from her frame entirely, it was only when she heard the word trials that she had sat upright. Searching her memory hurt, rattled her brain like a coin tossed to a street rat and she had cursed the gods under her breath for forgetting, it was almost record breaking in how fast Agathe had found her feet allowing her maidens to fuss and prune her into something presentable yet relaxed as if she woke up like this.
This was one official meeting Agathe would need to play carefully especially so under her fathers nose, though he really should have known better considering Agathe had quite the pull towards a sharp jawline and for what she saw of his trials? Well, he was certainly locked in her sights now. Agathe wasn’t a friend to the word no, especially when spoken by her father she mused as she stood deep in thought barefoot in the center of her quarters. Sure, they had crossed in passing but never was there a moment alone long enough for her to learn more than his name. Not that she was listening with him dripping with sweat after his first trial, Archion? Athian? A’rien? Something.. His name wasn’t important to her, everything else was.
Atleast she wasn’t using the excuse of searching for a son, honestly. Agathe thought it would be easier to process if her father called his actions for what they were instead of judging her for the same. Afterall in her mind? She believed women should be allowed to do what men could, what was good for one was good for the other but plenty arguments were spent telling her she was wrong.
“Breakfast M’lady?” Politely Agathe declined as she brushed her way between her staff and through the expansive quarters down to the courtyard, the ground cool beneath her feet. She wasn’t sure if she would find the potential bodyguard but maybe the fresh fragrant air would centre her thoughts away from him, maybe her father was right afterall; maybe she was getting too.. Shameful in her ways, soon enough a soft crease appeared in her brow as she aimlessly wandered through the gardens; fingers brushing along petals they’d find, thoughts drifting from her mind.
The courtyard was a poor place to be if Agathe was to introduce herself to the potentially new bodyguard, the courtyard was a place where she could just be free from her ways and the disappointment, to be herself. Most didn’t bother her here, everyone in the family had their serene place and this was hers; grass she twirled on when she was a child back when times were simple; but then she saw him and he looked even sharper in the afternoon light for a moment she didnt feel the betrayal of her tranquil place holding company instead she standing a few paces behind him. “Making yourself comfortable?"
For as much as it displeased Aivon to be confined to archontiko Marikas for the extent of his trial with the lord Pavlos, he wasn't of the mind to leave. He'd had knicks and cuts from the bout doused in wine, the smaller ones left to sit in the open air while the largest was pressed in with a linen wrap. No longer winded, though with aching knuckles and a light tremor in his grasp, the charlatan had no mind to go much of anywhere. Instead, he sat on a kline overlooking the courtyard. Having asked the slave to leave him the ewer of wine, an awkward acquiescence after a moment of insistence had him sipping from a cup.
This isn't so bad. Could get used to it.
From the deck of a ship to the middle of a royal lord's estate? He couldn't help the smug smile that glittered his expression, his head resting against the kline as a trail of wine dribbled down his chin. It was, perhaps, a bit too early to be indulging, but he hardly paid it mind, one leg raised so that his knee reached towards the sky. He indulged just a bit more before setting the cup on the ground, leaving the mostly emptied out ewer. With just a cup or two actually going down his throat, Aivon felt the simmer of intoxication without it taking control.
He'd been still long enough. His wounds dressed, a fist wrapped up and the tremors giving way to a measure of curiosity. Earlier, he'd seen two of the lords daughters, both spectating his bout, but he didn't approach. Not with the lord so close and a sense of self-preservation stilling him. He'd gotten more than a fair look, one attracting his eye somewhat more than the other but, in the end, he let himself forget about them. Instead, he wandered the courtyard, not yet testing whether he'd be permitted inside.
He felt a keen fascination with seeing what was inside. Closed doors, especially those that assuredly contained valuables, irked the charlatan. And while he held no inherent desire to steal this day, seeing what was available was certainly on the mind. It was only as he stood facing away from the structure that his solitude was breached by a voice calling out behind him.
"Making yourself comfortable?"
Without moving his body, the man turned his head, looking back to the woman he'd met earlier on. Parted lips formed a chuckle as he turned around to face the woman properly. With an inclination of his head to form a vaguely polite bow, his gaze was unabashed as it wandered from the woman's legs up the curves of her body to meet her face. His lips found an easy smile as he nodded his head,
"Oh, most definitely, my lady. I've always been quick to find my comforts," he answered, drawing a step nearer to the woman before he posed the necessary question,
"Is there something you need from me?"
He hadn't intended to approach his potential employer's daughters before actually securing a position. It seemed unwise, particularly in light of Pavlos' scrutiny. But, to deny her answer, or to flee simply because she approached him. It was never going to happen. As far as the scoundrel was concerned, by approaching him, she'd made herself fair game.
"Although, I wouldn't be remiss to experience more of your exalted existence. I've yet to go inside, for example. You wouldn't be of the mind to show me around, would you?"
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For as much as it displeased Aivon to be confined to archontiko Marikas for the extent of his trial with the lord Pavlos, he wasn't of the mind to leave. He'd had knicks and cuts from the bout doused in wine, the smaller ones left to sit in the open air while the largest was pressed in with a linen wrap. No longer winded, though with aching knuckles and a light tremor in his grasp, the charlatan had no mind to go much of anywhere. Instead, he sat on a kline overlooking the courtyard. Having asked the slave to leave him the ewer of wine, an awkward acquiescence after a moment of insistence had him sipping from a cup.
This isn't so bad. Could get used to it.
From the deck of a ship to the middle of a royal lord's estate? He couldn't help the smug smile that glittered his expression, his head resting against the kline as a trail of wine dribbled down his chin. It was, perhaps, a bit too early to be indulging, but he hardly paid it mind, one leg raised so that his knee reached towards the sky. He indulged just a bit more before setting the cup on the ground, leaving the mostly emptied out ewer. With just a cup or two actually going down his throat, Aivon felt the simmer of intoxication without it taking control.
He'd been still long enough. His wounds dressed, a fist wrapped up and the tremors giving way to a measure of curiosity. Earlier, he'd seen two of the lords daughters, both spectating his bout, but he didn't approach. Not with the lord so close and a sense of self-preservation stilling him. He'd gotten more than a fair look, one attracting his eye somewhat more than the other but, in the end, he let himself forget about them. Instead, he wandered the courtyard, not yet testing whether he'd be permitted inside.
He felt a keen fascination with seeing what was inside. Closed doors, especially those that assuredly contained valuables, irked the charlatan. And while he held no inherent desire to steal this day, seeing what was available was certainly on the mind. It was only as he stood facing away from the structure that his solitude was breached by a voice calling out behind him.
"Making yourself comfortable?"
Without moving his body, the man turned his head, looking back to the woman he'd met earlier on. Parted lips formed a chuckle as he turned around to face the woman properly. With an inclination of his head to form a vaguely polite bow, his gaze was unabashed as it wandered from the woman's legs up the curves of her body to meet her face. His lips found an easy smile as he nodded his head,
"Oh, most definitely, my lady. I've always been quick to find my comforts," he answered, drawing a step nearer to the woman before he posed the necessary question,
"Is there something you need from me?"
He hadn't intended to approach his potential employer's daughters before actually securing a position. It seemed unwise, particularly in light of Pavlos' scrutiny. But, to deny her answer, or to flee simply because she approached him. It was never going to happen. As far as the scoundrel was concerned, by approaching him, she'd made herself fair game.
"Although, I wouldn't be remiss to experience more of your exalted existence. I've yet to go inside, for example. You wouldn't be of the mind to show me around, would you?"
For as much as it displeased Aivon to be confined to archontiko Marikas for the extent of his trial with the lord Pavlos, he wasn't of the mind to leave. He'd had knicks and cuts from the bout doused in wine, the smaller ones left to sit in the open air while the largest was pressed in with a linen wrap. No longer winded, though with aching knuckles and a light tremor in his grasp, the charlatan had no mind to go much of anywhere. Instead, he sat on a kline overlooking the courtyard. Having asked the slave to leave him the ewer of wine, an awkward acquiescence after a moment of insistence had him sipping from a cup.
This isn't so bad. Could get used to it.
From the deck of a ship to the middle of a royal lord's estate? He couldn't help the smug smile that glittered his expression, his head resting against the kline as a trail of wine dribbled down his chin. It was, perhaps, a bit too early to be indulging, but he hardly paid it mind, one leg raised so that his knee reached towards the sky. He indulged just a bit more before setting the cup on the ground, leaving the mostly emptied out ewer. With just a cup or two actually going down his throat, Aivon felt the simmer of intoxication without it taking control.
He'd been still long enough. His wounds dressed, a fist wrapped up and the tremors giving way to a measure of curiosity. Earlier, he'd seen two of the lords daughters, both spectating his bout, but he didn't approach. Not with the lord so close and a sense of self-preservation stilling him. He'd gotten more than a fair look, one attracting his eye somewhat more than the other but, in the end, he let himself forget about them. Instead, he wandered the courtyard, not yet testing whether he'd be permitted inside.
He felt a keen fascination with seeing what was inside. Closed doors, especially those that assuredly contained valuables, irked the charlatan. And while he held no inherent desire to steal this day, seeing what was available was certainly on the mind. It was only as he stood facing away from the structure that his solitude was breached by a voice calling out behind him.
"Making yourself comfortable?"
Without moving his body, the man turned his head, looking back to the woman he'd met earlier on. Parted lips formed a chuckle as he turned around to face the woman properly. With an inclination of his head to form a vaguely polite bow, his gaze was unabashed as it wandered from the woman's legs up the curves of her body to meet her face. His lips found an easy smile as he nodded his head,
"Oh, most definitely, my lady. I've always been quick to find my comforts," he answered, drawing a step nearer to the woman before he posed the necessary question,
"Is there something you need from me?"
He hadn't intended to approach his potential employer's daughters before actually securing a position. It seemed unwise, particularly in light of Pavlos' scrutiny. But, to deny her answer, or to flee simply because she approached him. It was never going to happen. As far as the scoundrel was concerned, by approaching him, she'd made herself fair game.
"Although, I wouldn't be remiss to experience more of your exalted existence. I've yet to go inside, for example. You wouldn't be of the mind to show me around, would you?"
This wasn’t her plan, she wasn’t supposed to find him a cup or two into the wine; in her sacred place of reflection. Agathe didn’t love much of anything but the courtyard was one of the things she held dear to her, where she could lose herself in the thoughts she wouldn’t share and those thoughts left her vulnerable to this man. Steeling her expression, she folded her arms beneath her bosom and canting her weight to one foot as she sized him down with a disapproving sniff to the jug of wine. There was something about his easy comfort the woman didn’t trust or maybe that was just her braid beginning to stick itself to her neck, in either case she diverted her gaze to the array of flowers before gesturing to a near slave with a curl of a finger.
“Bring another cup.” Her order was curt, short uncaring if it was too early but in delivering her request she found him a pace closer to her and whilst most would retrieve the distance in a back step of their own she simply squared her shoulders and lifted her gaze to hold his own only for that cursed jaw to hold her gaze. For now, she knew the man to be forbidden Agathe simply couldn’t allow even her thoughts to wander to unadulterated until he was hired at least; she could ruin his chances. Her chances, of him being hired and while he had held her in his sights of her womanly stature, Daniil could do with a.. Kinder sparring partner that was fuelled with their fathers wishes for a son in the girl.
Ofcourse her father hadn’t given him a chance of a tour, something that was beneath her; something she didn’t quite trust in doing afterall he could be anyone masking as a guard simply to steal from her proud family home, he could hurt them while they slept and with the riots? The possibilities were endless, she must speak with her father immediately; when she could bring herself to get a tongue lashing for not trusting him to protect this family. If truth be told? She didn’t, so instead she sat herself down on the kline and snorted. “Excuse me, but if my father hasn’t permitted a tour or assigned anyone to deliver such? That is one caution I can’t disobey.”
“And I disobey many.” With a twist of a smile, she nodded to the returning slave whose name she never bothered to remember Abraxys? Something like that and smiled as he poured her, her own cup of wine with a courteous nod once she shooed him away. Sipping from her cup and thumbing a stray riverlet from her chin she twisted her position to face him; still standing as she blinked her thick lashes and rested her hand behind her. “I’m sure you understand my caution, with the riots, the protests.. You could be masking as anyone, whilst my father may be trusting? He is the reason I am not.”
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This wasn’t her plan, she wasn’t supposed to find him a cup or two into the wine; in her sacred place of reflection. Agathe didn’t love much of anything but the courtyard was one of the things she held dear to her, where she could lose herself in the thoughts she wouldn’t share and those thoughts left her vulnerable to this man. Steeling her expression, she folded her arms beneath her bosom and canting her weight to one foot as she sized him down with a disapproving sniff to the jug of wine. There was something about his easy comfort the woman didn’t trust or maybe that was just her braid beginning to stick itself to her neck, in either case she diverted her gaze to the array of flowers before gesturing to a near slave with a curl of a finger.
“Bring another cup.” Her order was curt, short uncaring if it was too early but in delivering her request she found him a pace closer to her and whilst most would retrieve the distance in a back step of their own she simply squared her shoulders and lifted her gaze to hold his own only for that cursed jaw to hold her gaze. For now, she knew the man to be forbidden Agathe simply couldn’t allow even her thoughts to wander to unadulterated until he was hired at least; she could ruin his chances. Her chances, of him being hired and while he had held her in his sights of her womanly stature, Daniil could do with a.. Kinder sparring partner that was fuelled with their fathers wishes for a son in the girl.
Ofcourse her father hadn’t given him a chance of a tour, something that was beneath her; something she didn’t quite trust in doing afterall he could be anyone masking as a guard simply to steal from her proud family home, he could hurt them while they slept and with the riots? The possibilities were endless, she must speak with her father immediately; when she could bring herself to get a tongue lashing for not trusting him to protect this family. If truth be told? She didn’t, so instead she sat herself down on the kline and snorted. “Excuse me, but if my father hasn’t permitted a tour or assigned anyone to deliver such? That is one caution I can’t disobey.”
“And I disobey many.” With a twist of a smile, she nodded to the returning slave whose name she never bothered to remember Abraxys? Something like that and smiled as he poured her, her own cup of wine with a courteous nod once she shooed him away. Sipping from her cup and thumbing a stray riverlet from her chin she twisted her position to face him; still standing as she blinked her thick lashes and rested her hand behind her. “I’m sure you understand my caution, with the riots, the protests.. You could be masking as anyone, whilst my father may be trusting? He is the reason I am not.”
This wasn’t her plan, she wasn’t supposed to find him a cup or two into the wine; in her sacred place of reflection. Agathe didn’t love much of anything but the courtyard was one of the things she held dear to her, where she could lose herself in the thoughts she wouldn’t share and those thoughts left her vulnerable to this man. Steeling her expression, she folded her arms beneath her bosom and canting her weight to one foot as she sized him down with a disapproving sniff to the jug of wine. There was something about his easy comfort the woman didn’t trust or maybe that was just her braid beginning to stick itself to her neck, in either case she diverted her gaze to the array of flowers before gesturing to a near slave with a curl of a finger.
“Bring another cup.” Her order was curt, short uncaring if it was too early but in delivering her request she found him a pace closer to her and whilst most would retrieve the distance in a back step of their own she simply squared her shoulders and lifted her gaze to hold his own only for that cursed jaw to hold her gaze. For now, she knew the man to be forbidden Agathe simply couldn’t allow even her thoughts to wander to unadulterated until he was hired at least; she could ruin his chances. Her chances, of him being hired and while he had held her in his sights of her womanly stature, Daniil could do with a.. Kinder sparring partner that was fuelled with their fathers wishes for a son in the girl.
Ofcourse her father hadn’t given him a chance of a tour, something that was beneath her; something she didn’t quite trust in doing afterall he could be anyone masking as a guard simply to steal from her proud family home, he could hurt them while they slept and with the riots? The possibilities were endless, she must speak with her father immediately; when she could bring herself to get a tongue lashing for not trusting him to protect this family. If truth be told? She didn’t, so instead she sat herself down on the kline and snorted. “Excuse me, but if my father hasn’t permitted a tour or assigned anyone to deliver such? That is one caution I can’t disobey.”
“And I disobey many.” With a twist of a smile, she nodded to the returning slave whose name she never bothered to remember Abraxys? Something like that and smiled as he poured her, her own cup of wine with a courteous nod once she shooed him away. Sipping from her cup and thumbing a stray riverlet from her chin she twisted her position to face him; still standing as she blinked her thick lashes and rested her hand behind her. “I’m sure you understand my caution, with the riots, the protests.. You could be masking as anyone, whilst my father may be trusting? He is the reason I am not.”
While Agathe might've enjoyed stewing in her thoughts, Aivon was the opposite. Thoughts were not so instrumental in the moment, readily abandoned in the midst of heady instinct and, perhaps, reckless indulgence.
"And a second ewer," he added, once Agathe finished ordering the slave to leave. The gall he had, perhaps, placing that order was only offset by the fact that she seemed perfectly content to remain in his vicinity. As he drew nearer, it was akin to a test. Did this one seek to push him back? To show him 'his place'? Or was she in it of itself curious, even as she sniffed in disapproval.
The charlatan, while keen in his efforts to read the faces of his fellows, found himself more drawn in the finer nuances of her expression rather than the meaning behind it. Agathe, after all, was an exquisitely wrought creature, the mystique behind the royals of the kingdoms of Greece lending to the assumption of divine intervention. These souls were the epitome of their kingdom's beauty, and certainly, Athenia did not disappoint.
When Agathe sat herself on the kline he'd occupied just moments before, the scoundrel followed. He sat perpendicular to her, his back resting against the arm rest as he nodded in understanding. It was disappointing, to say the least, but not entirely unexpected. Was this woman, who seemed not moments before to drink in the sight of him, demure? Or, were there other motives for her word game. Lips parted in a chuckle just as the slave returned with the cup and accompanying ewer.
Agathe was served her drink, with Aivon taking the ewer and filling his own cup as the slave was shooed away in a fuss. She sought no chaperone to ensure her safety and her words... they played at a game that he was all too willing to play. Aivon turned his head, a single dark orb laying its gaze upon the royal as he listened to her... inhibitions? Was it normal, for a royal girl to be so preoccupied with their safety? It seemed a thing to be left to the girl's father, and yet... she seemed suspicious.
She held competent instincts, at the very least. Aivon so desperately wished to lick his lips, but rather, he turned his head instead. The charlatan slid his legs beneath her kline, letting his arms settle on the arm rest in the absence of her occupation of it. He shrugged his shoulders at her comment, a hidden amusement in just how close she was to the truth. He very often played the game of disguise, her suspicion aroused in one of the few instances were the money was sufficient to not require games of complete deception.
A fake name, as they always are. But, in it of itself, that's not too deep of a ploy, he reasoned just as he leaned forward. The scoundrel studied her, once more ensuring the unveiled fascination. She was, truly, a beautiful creature. A grin caught upon the charlatan's lips as he nodded in agreement.
"I completely understand your caution. I suspect before the night is ended that I'll be escorted to a room and kept under some sort of vigil. Your father seems very keen to protect his precious daughters."
As of yet, Aivon had not seen a single son in the house of Marikas. He wondered if there was one, not so fully engrossed in the kingdom's lineages as perhaps, he should've been. Their proximity was tantalizing, drawing the man to let a hand brush forward, not quite touching the woman, but tracing the material of the kline she now laid upon. Framing her body without touching her flesh, fingers snaked upward along the kline with scarcely the respectful distance required of him.
In this moment, with no witnesses, he had a very particular game he wanted to play with this one.
"And yet... you draw closer. You imbibe wine. You play reckless abandon with your life. Is it to satisfy some morbid curiosity? Wagering your safety to satisfy a question?"
Aivon's lips curved into a full grin, as raised a hand, positioning his elbow so that his tricep followed the frame of the arm rest. He rested his chin in his hand as he followed his question,
"And why is that? What has lord Pavlos done to make him so ill-deserving of your trust, my lady?"
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While Agathe might've enjoyed stewing in her thoughts, Aivon was the opposite. Thoughts were not so instrumental in the moment, readily abandoned in the midst of heady instinct and, perhaps, reckless indulgence.
"And a second ewer," he added, once Agathe finished ordering the slave to leave. The gall he had, perhaps, placing that order was only offset by the fact that she seemed perfectly content to remain in his vicinity. As he drew nearer, it was akin to a test. Did this one seek to push him back? To show him 'his place'? Or was she in it of itself curious, even as she sniffed in disapproval.
The charlatan, while keen in his efforts to read the faces of his fellows, found himself more drawn in the finer nuances of her expression rather than the meaning behind it. Agathe, after all, was an exquisitely wrought creature, the mystique behind the royals of the kingdoms of Greece lending to the assumption of divine intervention. These souls were the epitome of their kingdom's beauty, and certainly, Athenia did not disappoint.
When Agathe sat herself on the kline he'd occupied just moments before, the scoundrel followed. He sat perpendicular to her, his back resting against the arm rest as he nodded in understanding. It was disappointing, to say the least, but not entirely unexpected. Was this woman, who seemed not moments before to drink in the sight of him, demure? Or, were there other motives for her word game. Lips parted in a chuckle just as the slave returned with the cup and accompanying ewer.
Agathe was served her drink, with Aivon taking the ewer and filling his own cup as the slave was shooed away in a fuss. She sought no chaperone to ensure her safety and her words... they played at a game that he was all too willing to play. Aivon turned his head, a single dark orb laying its gaze upon the royal as he listened to her... inhibitions? Was it normal, for a royal girl to be so preoccupied with their safety? It seemed a thing to be left to the girl's father, and yet... she seemed suspicious.
She held competent instincts, at the very least. Aivon so desperately wished to lick his lips, but rather, he turned his head instead. The charlatan slid his legs beneath her kline, letting his arms settle on the arm rest in the absence of her occupation of it. He shrugged his shoulders at her comment, a hidden amusement in just how close she was to the truth. He very often played the game of disguise, her suspicion aroused in one of the few instances were the money was sufficient to not require games of complete deception.
A fake name, as they always are. But, in it of itself, that's not too deep of a ploy, he reasoned just as he leaned forward. The scoundrel studied her, once more ensuring the unveiled fascination. She was, truly, a beautiful creature. A grin caught upon the charlatan's lips as he nodded in agreement.
"I completely understand your caution. I suspect before the night is ended that I'll be escorted to a room and kept under some sort of vigil. Your father seems very keen to protect his precious daughters."
As of yet, Aivon had not seen a single son in the house of Marikas. He wondered if there was one, not so fully engrossed in the kingdom's lineages as perhaps, he should've been. Their proximity was tantalizing, drawing the man to let a hand brush forward, not quite touching the woman, but tracing the material of the kline she now laid upon. Framing her body without touching her flesh, fingers snaked upward along the kline with scarcely the respectful distance required of him.
In this moment, with no witnesses, he had a very particular game he wanted to play with this one.
"And yet... you draw closer. You imbibe wine. You play reckless abandon with your life. Is it to satisfy some morbid curiosity? Wagering your safety to satisfy a question?"
Aivon's lips curved into a full grin, as raised a hand, positioning his elbow so that his tricep followed the frame of the arm rest. He rested his chin in his hand as he followed his question,
"And why is that? What has lord Pavlos done to make him so ill-deserving of your trust, my lady?"
While Agathe might've enjoyed stewing in her thoughts, Aivon was the opposite. Thoughts were not so instrumental in the moment, readily abandoned in the midst of heady instinct and, perhaps, reckless indulgence.
"And a second ewer," he added, once Agathe finished ordering the slave to leave. The gall he had, perhaps, placing that order was only offset by the fact that she seemed perfectly content to remain in his vicinity. As he drew nearer, it was akin to a test. Did this one seek to push him back? To show him 'his place'? Or was she in it of itself curious, even as she sniffed in disapproval.
The charlatan, while keen in his efforts to read the faces of his fellows, found himself more drawn in the finer nuances of her expression rather than the meaning behind it. Agathe, after all, was an exquisitely wrought creature, the mystique behind the royals of the kingdoms of Greece lending to the assumption of divine intervention. These souls were the epitome of their kingdom's beauty, and certainly, Athenia did not disappoint.
When Agathe sat herself on the kline he'd occupied just moments before, the scoundrel followed. He sat perpendicular to her, his back resting against the arm rest as he nodded in understanding. It was disappointing, to say the least, but not entirely unexpected. Was this woman, who seemed not moments before to drink in the sight of him, demure? Or, were there other motives for her word game. Lips parted in a chuckle just as the slave returned with the cup and accompanying ewer.
Agathe was served her drink, with Aivon taking the ewer and filling his own cup as the slave was shooed away in a fuss. She sought no chaperone to ensure her safety and her words... they played at a game that he was all too willing to play. Aivon turned his head, a single dark orb laying its gaze upon the royal as he listened to her... inhibitions? Was it normal, for a royal girl to be so preoccupied with their safety? It seemed a thing to be left to the girl's father, and yet... she seemed suspicious.
She held competent instincts, at the very least. Aivon so desperately wished to lick his lips, but rather, he turned his head instead. The charlatan slid his legs beneath her kline, letting his arms settle on the arm rest in the absence of her occupation of it. He shrugged his shoulders at her comment, a hidden amusement in just how close she was to the truth. He very often played the game of disguise, her suspicion aroused in one of the few instances were the money was sufficient to not require games of complete deception.
A fake name, as they always are. But, in it of itself, that's not too deep of a ploy, he reasoned just as he leaned forward. The scoundrel studied her, once more ensuring the unveiled fascination. She was, truly, a beautiful creature. A grin caught upon the charlatan's lips as he nodded in agreement.
"I completely understand your caution. I suspect before the night is ended that I'll be escorted to a room and kept under some sort of vigil. Your father seems very keen to protect his precious daughters."
As of yet, Aivon had not seen a single son in the house of Marikas. He wondered if there was one, not so fully engrossed in the kingdom's lineages as perhaps, he should've been. Their proximity was tantalizing, drawing the man to let a hand brush forward, not quite touching the woman, but tracing the material of the kline she now laid upon. Framing her body without touching her flesh, fingers snaked upward along the kline with scarcely the respectful distance required of him.
In this moment, with no witnesses, he had a very particular game he wanted to play with this one.
"And yet... you draw closer. You imbibe wine. You play reckless abandon with your life. Is it to satisfy some morbid curiosity? Wagering your safety to satisfy a question?"
Aivon's lips curved into a full grin, as raised a hand, positioning his elbow so that his tricep followed the frame of the arm rest. He rested his chin in his hand as he followed his question,
"And why is that? What has lord Pavlos done to make him so ill-deserving of your trust, my lady?"
There was nothing demure about Agathe, she broke the mould set for most noble daughters having decided from a young age that whatever men could do? She could do, much to the disapproval of her parents. Idly, as if in simple thought she circled her fingertip along the rim of her cup with her gaze staring off into the distance of the courtyard knowing it was scandalous enough for her to be sat alone with a strange man brought into the home of her family but the members of the household needed something to gossip about and she’d rather it was her than her sisters. Despite her lacking affections, she did care for the other girls of the house but eventually she turned her gaze towards him and smiled wryly as she raised her cup to her lips for a small sip; tip of her tongue catching the drop that sat atop her upper lip.
“Precious? That’s the word of choice? I can think of a few and precious isn’t one of them.” Agathe uttered bluntly, curt evidently she wasn’t the typical well mannered young woman that spoke ill of noone and nothing but rather she wielded her words like a weapon to be heard and she made her opinions clear. One opinion she wasn’t shy to share was her nearly casual disdain for her father, precious was a word that actually tickled Agathe enough to snort a small sound of laughter. No, that certainly wasn’t a word she’d choose to describe her fathers affections; maybe for Daniil, even Elena but for herself? There was little love between her and her father and Agathe could almost swear that that love was for arguing.
However, her expression did little to betray her thoughts as she just tilted her head to the side watching him study the anomaly that had been herself. She shifted to lay upon her hip as she watched him, watched his hand graze along her aura rather than her skin and something sparked in those bright eyes of hers as she moved her free hand an inch atop his own playing his own game of touching without physically doing such, Agathe didn’t even look around to check if they were alone as she leaned just that small inch closer as he spoke of the dangers that contradicted her words of safety concerns. Still as he reclined perching her chin within he palm she still danced her fingertips along the air near his arm with something of a dark chuckled sound passing her lips, lips that met her cup for another sip of wine.
“Oh please, this house holds so many restrictions and rules I simply toe the line and live in the only way I can.. If thats morbid curiosity? Than who am I to argue?” With that she too reclined and wrapped the end of her braid around her fingertip, studying the strands around her finger as she debated her answer to his other question; one which she laughed at before turning her gaze over her shoulder with a tilt of a gaze towards the house. “Are you telling me you’d recruit unknown guards into your house during such a time? Without consulting your family? Or even informing them?” Her lips remained parted, as if there was more to say and honestly there had been but Agathe had played this game long enough to know just how much information to give whilst keeping her intended catch on its hook, if he wanted to know more? He should choose his questions better.
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There was nothing demure about Agathe, she broke the mould set for most noble daughters having decided from a young age that whatever men could do? She could do, much to the disapproval of her parents. Idly, as if in simple thought she circled her fingertip along the rim of her cup with her gaze staring off into the distance of the courtyard knowing it was scandalous enough for her to be sat alone with a strange man brought into the home of her family but the members of the household needed something to gossip about and she’d rather it was her than her sisters. Despite her lacking affections, she did care for the other girls of the house but eventually she turned her gaze towards him and smiled wryly as she raised her cup to her lips for a small sip; tip of her tongue catching the drop that sat atop her upper lip.
“Precious? That’s the word of choice? I can think of a few and precious isn’t one of them.” Agathe uttered bluntly, curt evidently she wasn’t the typical well mannered young woman that spoke ill of noone and nothing but rather she wielded her words like a weapon to be heard and she made her opinions clear. One opinion she wasn’t shy to share was her nearly casual disdain for her father, precious was a word that actually tickled Agathe enough to snort a small sound of laughter. No, that certainly wasn’t a word she’d choose to describe her fathers affections; maybe for Daniil, even Elena but for herself? There was little love between her and her father and Agathe could almost swear that that love was for arguing.
However, her expression did little to betray her thoughts as she just tilted her head to the side watching him study the anomaly that had been herself. She shifted to lay upon her hip as she watched him, watched his hand graze along her aura rather than her skin and something sparked in those bright eyes of hers as she moved her free hand an inch atop his own playing his own game of touching without physically doing such, Agathe didn’t even look around to check if they were alone as she leaned just that small inch closer as he spoke of the dangers that contradicted her words of safety concerns. Still as he reclined perching her chin within he palm she still danced her fingertips along the air near his arm with something of a dark chuckled sound passing her lips, lips that met her cup for another sip of wine.
“Oh please, this house holds so many restrictions and rules I simply toe the line and live in the only way I can.. If thats morbid curiosity? Than who am I to argue?” With that she too reclined and wrapped the end of her braid around her fingertip, studying the strands around her finger as she debated her answer to his other question; one which she laughed at before turning her gaze over her shoulder with a tilt of a gaze towards the house. “Are you telling me you’d recruit unknown guards into your house during such a time? Without consulting your family? Or even informing them?” Her lips remained parted, as if there was more to say and honestly there had been but Agathe had played this game long enough to know just how much information to give whilst keeping her intended catch on its hook, if he wanted to know more? He should choose his questions better.
There was nothing demure about Agathe, she broke the mould set for most noble daughters having decided from a young age that whatever men could do? She could do, much to the disapproval of her parents. Idly, as if in simple thought she circled her fingertip along the rim of her cup with her gaze staring off into the distance of the courtyard knowing it was scandalous enough for her to be sat alone with a strange man brought into the home of her family but the members of the household needed something to gossip about and she’d rather it was her than her sisters. Despite her lacking affections, she did care for the other girls of the house but eventually she turned her gaze towards him and smiled wryly as she raised her cup to her lips for a small sip; tip of her tongue catching the drop that sat atop her upper lip.
“Precious? That’s the word of choice? I can think of a few and precious isn’t one of them.” Agathe uttered bluntly, curt evidently she wasn’t the typical well mannered young woman that spoke ill of noone and nothing but rather she wielded her words like a weapon to be heard and she made her opinions clear. One opinion she wasn’t shy to share was her nearly casual disdain for her father, precious was a word that actually tickled Agathe enough to snort a small sound of laughter. No, that certainly wasn’t a word she’d choose to describe her fathers affections; maybe for Daniil, even Elena but for herself? There was little love between her and her father and Agathe could almost swear that that love was for arguing.
However, her expression did little to betray her thoughts as she just tilted her head to the side watching him study the anomaly that had been herself. She shifted to lay upon her hip as she watched him, watched his hand graze along her aura rather than her skin and something sparked in those bright eyes of hers as she moved her free hand an inch atop his own playing his own game of touching without physically doing such, Agathe didn’t even look around to check if they were alone as she leaned just that small inch closer as he spoke of the dangers that contradicted her words of safety concerns. Still as he reclined perching her chin within he palm she still danced her fingertips along the air near his arm with something of a dark chuckled sound passing her lips, lips that met her cup for another sip of wine.
“Oh please, this house holds so many restrictions and rules I simply toe the line and live in the only way I can.. If thats morbid curiosity? Than who am I to argue?” With that she too reclined and wrapped the end of her braid around her fingertip, studying the strands around her finger as she debated her answer to his other question; one which she laughed at before turning her gaze over her shoulder with a tilt of a gaze towards the house. “Are you telling me you’d recruit unknown guards into your house during such a time? Without consulting your family? Or even informing them?” Her lips remained parted, as if there was more to say and honestly there had been but Agathe had played this game long enough to know just how much information to give whilst keeping her intended catch on its hook, if he wanted to know more? He should choose his questions better.
"Precious?"
Aivon could practically hear the pain in the curt manner in which she spoke.
Delicious.
Aivon almost licked his lips at the palpable tension coming from one Agathe of Marikas. Clearly, she rebuked her father, and perhaps even all of her family. It was always interesting to the swindler, to see those whose worth and reason for existing stemmed from their nobility, only for them to dread it and find themselves scrambling to recover what semblance of self was left. Was that this one? Or was she already certain, finding herself in this sordid dismissal?
He just had to find out. Drawn indelibly towards the colour of conflict, both real and mental, Agathe's edgy demeanor was like tinder to the flame. When her hand shifted to brush along the back of his own, he turned so that their palms met, his fingertips brushing along the vein of her wrist before palms squared against one another. He pulled her hand towards him, letting a playful smirk devolve into lips pressing against skin before he released her hand.
"That's hard to say. Clearly, daddy is happy to put money into your personal protection, but maybe he didn't say I love you enough?"
Aivon goaded her, curious enough to listen to the woman's troubles. It was a hook, intent on drawing her nearer. Whether it was offense or sadness, any sort of attention was positive attention to a man like Aivon, and he relished in it even as the topic moved forward and she spoke of her restrictions and rules. She continued her play along the length of his arm, the curve of his lips drawing wider as that spark of curiosity waxed into a burgeoning flame.
"Everyone is unknown until they aren't. Your father's soldiers are just as suspicious as I am, my dear. I would think he's only doing what's right. But... who's to say? Clearly, I'm not above your suspicion. Or your curiosity," he teased her, a light grasp cupping her elbow, intent on guiding her hand upward so that her fingertips could meet the jaw her gaze seemed so drawn to. Aivon didn't have an abundance of questions for this one. She answered everything by the way her gaze moved, how her touch bloomed against his skin and moreover...
That tone.
That delicious bitterness that only served to further divide her. She was such a nexus of conflict that he could almost salivate just in the proximity of the doubts, anger and frustration that lived caged within her chest. The scoundrel let his jawline coax along the length of her arm as he drew closer and closer to her, paying little mind to whomever might've approached in the courtyard. There were no footsteps, no sounds aside from their conversation delving deeper into the psyche of an Agathe of Marikas.
Give me more. Let me in your head. I want to see it for myself.
He craved it, an unbidden curiosity to find out what lay behind veils, both mental and the curtain that was the peplos that obscured her body from his scrutiny.
"You complain and complain about it, but not to him. I suspect, your grace, that you enjoy having strangers in your house. Or maybe I'm just special."
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"Precious?"
Aivon could practically hear the pain in the curt manner in which she spoke.
Delicious.
Aivon almost licked his lips at the palpable tension coming from one Agathe of Marikas. Clearly, she rebuked her father, and perhaps even all of her family. It was always interesting to the swindler, to see those whose worth and reason for existing stemmed from their nobility, only for them to dread it and find themselves scrambling to recover what semblance of self was left. Was that this one? Or was she already certain, finding herself in this sordid dismissal?
He just had to find out. Drawn indelibly towards the colour of conflict, both real and mental, Agathe's edgy demeanor was like tinder to the flame. When her hand shifted to brush along the back of his own, he turned so that their palms met, his fingertips brushing along the vein of her wrist before palms squared against one another. He pulled her hand towards him, letting a playful smirk devolve into lips pressing against skin before he released her hand.
"That's hard to say. Clearly, daddy is happy to put money into your personal protection, but maybe he didn't say I love you enough?"
Aivon goaded her, curious enough to listen to the woman's troubles. It was a hook, intent on drawing her nearer. Whether it was offense or sadness, any sort of attention was positive attention to a man like Aivon, and he relished in it even as the topic moved forward and she spoke of her restrictions and rules. She continued her play along the length of his arm, the curve of his lips drawing wider as that spark of curiosity waxed into a burgeoning flame.
"Everyone is unknown until they aren't. Your father's soldiers are just as suspicious as I am, my dear. I would think he's only doing what's right. But... who's to say? Clearly, I'm not above your suspicion. Or your curiosity," he teased her, a light grasp cupping her elbow, intent on guiding her hand upward so that her fingertips could meet the jaw her gaze seemed so drawn to. Aivon didn't have an abundance of questions for this one. She answered everything by the way her gaze moved, how her touch bloomed against his skin and moreover...
That tone.
That delicious bitterness that only served to further divide her. She was such a nexus of conflict that he could almost salivate just in the proximity of the doubts, anger and frustration that lived caged within her chest. The scoundrel let his jawline coax along the length of her arm as he drew closer and closer to her, paying little mind to whomever might've approached in the courtyard. There were no footsteps, no sounds aside from their conversation delving deeper into the psyche of an Agathe of Marikas.
Give me more. Let me in your head. I want to see it for myself.
He craved it, an unbidden curiosity to find out what lay behind veils, both mental and the curtain that was the peplos that obscured her body from his scrutiny.
"You complain and complain about it, but not to him. I suspect, your grace, that you enjoy having strangers in your house. Or maybe I'm just special."
"Precious?"
Aivon could practically hear the pain in the curt manner in which she spoke.
Delicious.
Aivon almost licked his lips at the palpable tension coming from one Agathe of Marikas. Clearly, she rebuked her father, and perhaps even all of her family. It was always interesting to the swindler, to see those whose worth and reason for existing stemmed from their nobility, only for them to dread it and find themselves scrambling to recover what semblance of self was left. Was that this one? Or was she already certain, finding herself in this sordid dismissal?
He just had to find out. Drawn indelibly towards the colour of conflict, both real and mental, Agathe's edgy demeanor was like tinder to the flame. When her hand shifted to brush along the back of his own, he turned so that their palms met, his fingertips brushing along the vein of her wrist before palms squared against one another. He pulled her hand towards him, letting a playful smirk devolve into lips pressing against skin before he released her hand.
"That's hard to say. Clearly, daddy is happy to put money into your personal protection, but maybe he didn't say I love you enough?"
Aivon goaded her, curious enough to listen to the woman's troubles. It was a hook, intent on drawing her nearer. Whether it was offense or sadness, any sort of attention was positive attention to a man like Aivon, and he relished in it even as the topic moved forward and she spoke of her restrictions and rules. She continued her play along the length of his arm, the curve of his lips drawing wider as that spark of curiosity waxed into a burgeoning flame.
"Everyone is unknown until they aren't. Your father's soldiers are just as suspicious as I am, my dear. I would think he's only doing what's right. But... who's to say? Clearly, I'm not above your suspicion. Or your curiosity," he teased her, a light grasp cupping her elbow, intent on guiding her hand upward so that her fingertips could meet the jaw her gaze seemed so drawn to. Aivon didn't have an abundance of questions for this one. She answered everything by the way her gaze moved, how her touch bloomed against his skin and moreover...
That tone.
That delicious bitterness that only served to further divide her. She was such a nexus of conflict that he could almost salivate just in the proximity of the doubts, anger and frustration that lived caged within her chest. The scoundrel let his jawline coax along the length of her arm as he drew closer and closer to her, paying little mind to whomever might've approached in the courtyard. There were no footsteps, no sounds aside from their conversation delving deeper into the psyche of an Agathe of Marikas.
Give me more. Let me in your head. I want to see it for myself.
He craved it, an unbidden curiosity to find out what lay behind veils, both mental and the curtain that was the peplos that obscured her body from his scrutiny.
"You complain and complain about it, but not to him. I suspect, your grace, that you enjoy having strangers in your house. Or maybe I'm just special."
The pain behind a single word was palpable whenever she had been lost within her thoughts and torn viciously from them especially when she had grown so jaded over the years. Agathe and her feelings were never a concern within these walls, so when it appeared someone felt as if they had mattered? She always wondered why, why them? Why now, who else cared? She certainly didn’t. Not anymore. However when his fingertips found her wrist, Agathe held his gaze even when she brought her cup to her lips for a sip soon her fingertips steepled against his own until he pulled her hand to his lips. Once upon a time, the gesture would have caused her cheeks to flush, her to brush a strand of hair behind her ear but this time she just lead towards him, brows perking whilst she listened.
Agathe knew better than to humour him with a response to such questions laid before her, knowing he was seeking more about the family issues that had her so bitter over the years; years spent turning a young woman into someone so jaded and as she leaned forwards toward him she licked over her lower lip as if in thought as she debated his utterings once more. “You’re right.. My fathers soldiers are equally suspicious, anyone with a pulse is suspicious; do you believe me to think otherwise?” There she was again, answering questions with another question; deflecting her true answers with more luring words intent on snaring him in her little web. It was a game she had grown rather expert at through the earths rotations even with her hand being steered towards that jaw that first caught her sights above anything else.
Again, she was holding his gaze firmly within her own as she turned her hand so that her palm rested against his cheek; thumb stroking along his sharp jawline with her gaze cautiously moving over her shoulder. They were truly alone, no footsteps; no giggles or words travelling the air, there was nothing stopping her, stopping him. In fact, the air was still only heavy in their shared need for more, a game they were both adept at playing; a game they were both aware of equal and true until he spoke.. Again a man just had to open his mouth, the woman thought as she turned her hand from his cheek to claim his chin in a firm hold.
“Dont go holding yourself above the rest, to complain to my father would mean conversing with the old man. Which, you will soon see; very few of us do.. Now, are you going to unravel my mind or put your mouth somewhere more productive?” Something of a wicked grin found her delightful features as her gaze bore into the mans own, daring him to set his lips upon her; daring him to make that fateful move on their meeting and yet she knew it hadn’t escaped him that she cared not for his name. “Or are you too a bit concerned for my father and his all seeing eye?”
There was more to lose in his hand than within her own, it was no secret that Agathe of house Marikas loved to play with her food, men and women alike it mattered not to her. It mattered even less when words were had about the matter, it mattered nothing at all when her father refused to even acknowledge the matter and yet there she sat; dangerously close to the new prospected guard daring him to set his lips somewhere upon her skin; firmly claiming his chin in her grip as she forced his gaze to remain upon her own. "Kiss me.. I dare you."
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The pain behind a single word was palpable whenever she had been lost within her thoughts and torn viciously from them especially when she had grown so jaded over the years. Agathe and her feelings were never a concern within these walls, so when it appeared someone felt as if they had mattered? She always wondered why, why them? Why now, who else cared? She certainly didn’t. Not anymore. However when his fingertips found her wrist, Agathe held his gaze even when she brought her cup to her lips for a sip soon her fingertips steepled against his own until he pulled her hand to his lips. Once upon a time, the gesture would have caused her cheeks to flush, her to brush a strand of hair behind her ear but this time she just lead towards him, brows perking whilst she listened.
Agathe knew better than to humour him with a response to such questions laid before her, knowing he was seeking more about the family issues that had her so bitter over the years; years spent turning a young woman into someone so jaded and as she leaned forwards toward him she licked over her lower lip as if in thought as she debated his utterings once more. “You’re right.. My fathers soldiers are equally suspicious, anyone with a pulse is suspicious; do you believe me to think otherwise?” There she was again, answering questions with another question; deflecting her true answers with more luring words intent on snaring him in her little web. It was a game she had grown rather expert at through the earths rotations even with her hand being steered towards that jaw that first caught her sights above anything else.
Again, she was holding his gaze firmly within her own as she turned her hand so that her palm rested against his cheek; thumb stroking along his sharp jawline with her gaze cautiously moving over her shoulder. They were truly alone, no footsteps; no giggles or words travelling the air, there was nothing stopping her, stopping him. In fact, the air was still only heavy in their shared need for more, a game they were both adept at playing; a game they were both aware of equal and true until he spoke.. Again a man just had to open his mouth, the woman thought as she turned her hand from his cheek to claim his chin in a firm hold.
“Dont go holding yourself above the rest, to complain to my father would mean conversing with the old man. Which, you will soon see; very few of us do.. Now, are you going to unravel my mind or put your mouth somewhere more productive?” Something of a wicked grin found her delightful features as her gaze bore into the mans own, daring him to set his lips upon her; daring him to make that fateful move on their meeting and yet she knew it hadn’t escaped him that she cared not for his name. “Or are you too a bit concerned for my father and his all seeing eye?”
There was more to lose in his hand than within her own, it was no secret that Agathe of house Marikas loved to play with her food, men and women alike it mattered not to her. It mattered even less when words were had about the matter, it mattered nothing at all when her father refused to even acknowledge the matter and yet there she sat; dangerously close to the new prospected guard daring him to set his lips somewhere upon her skin; firmly claiming his chin in her grip as she forced his gaze to remain upon her own. "Kiss me.. I dare you."
The pain behind a single word was palpable whenever she had been lost within her thoughts and torn viciously from them especially when she had grown so jaded over the years. Agathe and her feelings were never a concern within these walls, so when it appeared someone felt as if they had mattered? She always wondered why, why them? Why now, who else cared? She certainly didn’t. Not anymore. However when his fingertips found her wrist, Agathe held his gaze even when she brought her cup to her lips for a sip soon her fingertips steepled against his own until he pulled her hand to his lips. Once upon a time, the gesture would have caused her cheeks to flush, her to brush a strand of hair behind her ear but this time she just lead towards him, brows perking whilst she listened.
Agathe knew better than to humour him with a response to such questions laid before her, knowing he was seeking more about the family issues that had her so bitter over the years; years spent turning a young woman into someone so jaded and as she leaned forwards toward him she licked over her lower lip as if in thought as she debated his utterings once more. “You’re right.. My fathers soldiers are equally suspicious, anyone with a pulse is suspicious; do you believe me to think otherwise?” There she was again, answering questions with another question; deflecting her true answers with more luring words intent on snaring him in her little web. It was a game she had grown rather expert at through the earths rotations even with her hand being steered towards that jaw that first caught her sights above anything else.
Again, she was holding his gaze firmly within her own as she turned her hand so that her palm rested against his cheek; thumb stroking along his sharp jawline with her gaze cautiously moving over her shoulder. They were truly alone, no footsteps; no giggles or words travelling the air, there was nothing stopping her, stopping him. In fact, the air was still only heavy in their shared need for more, a game they were both adept at playing; a game they were both aware of equal and true until he spoke.. Again a man just had to open his mouth, the woman thought as she turned her hand from his cheek to claim his chin in a firm hold.
“Dont go holding yourself above the rest, to complain to my father would mean conversing with the old man. Which, you will soon see; very few of us do.. Now, are you going to unravel my mind or put your mouth somewhere more productive?” Something of a wicked grin found her delightful features as her gaze bore into the mans own, daring him to set his lips upon her; daring him to make that fateful move on their meeting and yet she knew it hadn’t escaped him that she cared not for his name. “Or are you too a bit concerned for my father and his all seeing eye?”
There was more to lose in his hand than within her own, it was no secret that Agathe of house Marikas loved to play with her food, men and women alike it mattered not to her. It mattered even less when words were had about the matter, it mattered nothing at all when her father refused to even acknowledge the matter and yet there she sat; dangerously close to the new prospected guard daring him to set his lips somewhere upon her skin; firmly claiming his chin in her grip as she forced his gaze to remain upon her own. "Kiss me.. I dare you."
If Aivon was disappointed in the fact that her features didn't flush pink from his kiss to her hand, the curve of his lips didn't show it. He was far too engrossed by the calm that settled upon her. She was used to this, clearly a royal woman who played the seduction game in her own right. But, based on her lament, and the way she spited her father again and again, she did not use her wiles for the so-called 'intended' purpose. Agathe of Marikas intrigued him, with the self-interest that rebelled against the norm of humble service to one's family name. He reveled in her accusations, in the suspicion placed on him.
I do my best work under suspicion.
Aivon loved it, goading his way out of bedrooms, jail cells, the years were his ally, giving him perspective on the premise of trial and error. The notion of anyone with a pulse being suspicious amused him, and the man chuckled aloud at her deflections, only further invested in toying with the prize in front of him. His lips pursed as he pretended to consider her words, then an 'ah' escaped his lips as his free hand rose to brush along the artery at her neck. He felt the delicate tick of her pulse against his forefinger.
"Do you include yourself in that? You have a pulse, too. Though, I'd be more suspicious of those without. If I could walk and talk and no blood ran through my veins... it would be rather alarming, wouldn't it?"
He teased her, brushing her words aside without answering her question. It was a ploy, a tease, trying to lure him into a corner and eat him alive. Instead, Aivon opted for a moment of silence as the both of them remained entirely alone. Perhaps the guards were all tending to the main house. The courtyards, after all, held little of value, all artistic beauty and sham meant to appease the eye, but in the end, immaterial. The royal girl holding his jaw was stolen away, a hiding place perhaps not of her design, but claimed by her nevertheless.
Then, she broke the silence, his chin held in a surprisingly strong hold as she moved to berate him. She defended her dignity by maintaining a careful emotional distance even as she drew closer and made her demand. Her lips curved into a grin as her gaze bored into his own. Those dark orbs contained not nerves, but reverie. Her challenge only served his purpose as well. She answered his question, betraying her own words in the process. Attraction was a visceral thing, and clearly, that worm burrowed itself into her mind.
Once prompted a second time, Aivon pried her hand from his chin. There lay an obstacle between them, but rather than simply circumventing it, Aivon had a different idea. He pried the curved, wooden armrest from the rest of the kline, tearing wood from its socket before placing it quietly on the floor. He had no intention of breaking their solitude, after all, not when he had exactly what he wanted. One arm circled the woman's waist, intent upon pinning her in place as the other wrapped around her neck. He placed no pressure on her skin, adopting firmness without squeezing the life out of her.
He craned forward, taking every delicious moment of anticipation before he laid his claim, lips meeting hers as the grasp on her throat gave way to his fingertips tracing the line of her peplos and along the curve of her breast. He did not grasp or touch, merely teasing her with the possibility of it as he deepened their kiss, his tongue entwined with her own before he pulled back several moments later, caught breathless in a flare of satisfaction. His lips pressed next just beneath the crook of her jaw, meeting the pulse point he'd touched previously before he pulled back from her to offer her a wide smirk.
Dark eyes glittered with unveiled excitement. He wanted more.
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If Aivon was disappointed in the fact that her features didn't flush pink from his kiss to her hand, the curve of his lips didn't show it. He was far too engrossed by the calm that settled upon her. She was used to this, clearly a royal woman who played the seduction game in her own right. But, based on her lament, and the way she spited her father again and again, she did not use her wiles for the so-called 'intended' purpose. Agathe of Marikas intrigued him, with the self-interest that rebelled against the norm of humble service to one's family name. He reveled in her accusations, in the suspicion placed on him.
I do my best work under suspicion.
Aivon loved it, goading his way out of bedrooms, jail cells, the years were his ally, giving him perspective on the premise of trial and error. The notion of anyone with a pulse being suspicious amused him, and the man chuckled aloud at her deflections, only further invested in toying with the prize in front of him. His lips pursed as he pretended to consider her words, then an 'ah' escaped his lips as his free hand rose to brush along the artery at her neck. He felt the delicate tick of her pulse against his forefinger.
"Do you include yourself in that? You have a pulse, too. Though, I'd be more suspicious of those without. If I could walk and talk and no blood ran through my veins... it would be rather alarming, wouldn't it?"
He teased her, brushing her words aside without answering her question. It was a ploy, a tease, trying to lure him into a corner and eat him alive. Instead, Aivon opted for a moment of silence as the both of them remained entirely alone. Perhaps the guards were all tending to the main house. The courtyards, after all, held little of value, all artistic beauty and sham meant to appease the eye, but in the end, immaterial. The royal girl holding his jaw was stolen away, a hiding place perhaps not of her design, but claimed by her nevertheless.
Then, she broke the silence, his chin held in a surprisingly strong hold as she moved to berate him. She defended her dignity by maintaining a careful emotional distance even as she drew closer and made her demand. Her lips curved into a grin as her gaze bored into his own. Those dark orbs contained not nerves, but reverie. Her challenge only served his purpose as well. She answered his question, betraying her own words in the process. Attraction was a visceral thing, and clearly, that worm burrowed itself into her mind.
Once prompted a second time, Aivon pried her hand from his chin. There lay an obstacle between them, but rather than simply circumventing it, Aivon had a different idea. He pried the curved, wooden armrest from the rest of the kline, tearing wood from its socket before placing it quietly on the floor. He had no intention of breaking their solitude, after all, not when he had exactly what he wanted. One arm circled the woman's waist, intent upon pinning her in place as the other wrapped around her neck. He placed no pressure on her skin, adopting firmness without squeezing the life out of her.
He craned forward, taking every delicious moment of anticipation before he laid his claim, lips meeting hers as the grasp on her throat gave way to his fingertips tracing the line of her peplos and along the curve of her breast. He did not grasp or touch, merely teasing her with the possibility of it as he deepened their kiss, his tongue entwined with her own before he pulled back several moments later, caught breathless in a flare of satisfaction. His lips pressed next just beneath the crook of her jaw, meeting the pulse point he'd touched previously before he pulled back from her to offer her a wide smirk.
Dark eyes glittered with unveiled excitement. He wanted more.
If Aivon was disappointed in the fact that her features didn't flush pink from his kiss to her hand, the curve of his lips didn't show it. He was far too engrossed by the calm that settled upon her. She was used to this, clearly a royal woman who played the seduction game in her own right. But, based on her lament, and the way she spited her father again and again, she did not use her wiles for the so-called 'intended' purpose. Agathe of Marikas intrigued him, with the self-interest that rebelled against the norm of humble service to one's family name. He reveled in her accusations, in the suspicion placed on him.
I do my best work under suspicion.
Aivon loved it, goading his way out of bedrooms, jail cells, the years were his ally, giving him perspective on the premise of trial and error. The notion of anyone with a pulse being suspicious amused him, and the man chuckled aloud at her deflections, only further invested in toying with the prize in front of him. His lips pursed as he pretended to consider her words, then an 'ah' escaped his lips as his free hand rose to brush along the artery at her neck. He felt the delicate tick of her pulse against his forefinger.
"Do you include yourself in that? You have a pulse, too. Though, I'd be more suspicious of those without. If I could walk and talk and no blood ran through my veins... it would be rather alarming, wouldn't it?"
He teased her, brushing her words aside without answering her question. It was a ploy, a tease, trying to lure him into a corner and eat him alive. Instead, Aivon opted for a moment of silence as the both of them remained entirely alone. Perhaps the guards were all tending to the main house. The courtyards, after all, held little of value, all artistic beauty and sham meant to appease the eye, but in the end, immaterial. The royal girl holding his jaw was stolen away, a hiding place perhaps not of her design, but claimed by her nevertheless.
Then, she broke the silence, his chin held in a surprisingly strong hold as she moved to berate him. She defended her dignity by maintaining a careful emotional distance even as she drew closer and made her demand. Her lips curved into a grin as her gaze bored into his own. Those dark orbs contained not nerves, but reverie. Her challenge only served his purpose as well. She answered his question, betraying her own words in the process. Attraction was a visceral thing, and clearly, that worm burrowed itself into her mind.
Once prompted a second time, Aivon pried her hand from his chin. There lay an obstacle between them, but rather than simply circumventing it, Aivon had a different idea. He pried the curved, wooden armrest from the rest of the kline, tearing wood from its socket before placing it quietly on the floor. He had no intention of breaking their solitude, after all, not when he had exactly what he wanted. One arm circled the woman's waist, intent upon pinning her in place as the other wrapped around her neck. He placed no pressure on her skin, adopting firmness without squeezing the life out of her.
He craned forward, taking every delicious moment of anticipation before he laid his claim, lips meeting hers as the grasp on her throat gave way to his fingertips tracing the line of her peplos and along the curve of her breast. He did not grasp or touch, merely teasing her with the possibility of it as he deepened their kiss, his tongue entwined with her own before he pulled back several moments later, caught breathless in a flare of satisfaction. His lips pressed next just beneath the crook of her jaw, meeting the pulse point he'd touched previously before he pulled back from her to offer her a wide smirk.
Dark eyes glittered with unveiled excitement. He wanted more.
The courtyard had grown so quiet, quiet enough that even the breeze in the trees seemed to be holding it’s breath in the tension building between the pair as she just continued to stare through him with her spoken challenge. Gods upon her would click their tongue and look away as she all but closed the distance without moving a muscle, her gaze was inviting; but not warmly in fact she was laying a trap before them one they were both open to and whilst it was common knowledge that she lured men into such situations? She enjoyed being played just the same. The danger of being caught, the alarm of being seen and the carelessness being met with her own? She suppressed a shuddered breath at the lion before her and just wiggled her brows in a silent voice of waiting.
For the briefest moment, the woman snorted as he pried her grasp from his jaw thinking him almost cowardly in a single move until she watched him pry.. No not pry, she watched him tear the wooden armrest from the kline and already she was licking her lip. Something dark lay beneath this mans surface and she wanted to find it, roll in like a pig in muck; now she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him as he set the wood down in such silence that she could only hear her heart pounding in delight. There was no time for Agathe to think before his arm encaptured her waist with his free hand finding her neck, pressureless that she wanted just something of a squeeze around her throat. Agathe exhaled a small “Oh..” Of a breath before silence followed with his lips claiming her own in not just a kiss, no he was claiming her mouth with his own and she was all too happy to allow as she leaned forward; closing all distance between them.
Her nails grazed down the forearm extending from her neck, up along his bicep before grasping her fingers firmly around the back of his neck; chest arching her breast into the fingers that barely grazed. He was playing with her, Agathe knew this and while women thrived for the tease to end; she too knew the men were just the same, craving a willing climax being drawn out into a long game of want, desire; no conditions, dangerous sex. Her tongue danced with his own, fighting for dominance in a tangle they both yearned for, the thrill they both dared to gamble and even when he pulled back she didn’t move her hand from the back of his neck.
Even that delicate taste of a kiss pressed to the point beneath her jaw lingering as he now sat smirking towards her; dark eyes holding her burning own. They both knew that the other wanted more, especially with her chest heaving in each panted breath of a wolf with a sheep in its sights; she too smirk hand lowering slowly from the back of his neck making sure that her nails grazed down the length of his arm before settling in her lap. Still, she didn’t ask his name; instead she retrieved her cup of wine and took a long, thoughtful sip mostly still the raging need thudding within her chest.
In all truth, she was searching for something clever to say but her mind was racing with every option that included not of words but more of.. That. Most people she had entangled herself with still treated her like a lady but him? Oh he didn’t, she knew that much by the hand he set around her neck, he could’ve squeezed, choked her, he could’ve done absolutely anything and he made sure she knew that much and it was.. Exciting. “I think I’ve met my match..” Agathe uttered at last.
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The courtyard had grown so quiet, quiet enough that even the breeze in the trees seemed to be holding it’s breath in the tension building between the pair as she just continued to stare through him with her spoken challenge. Gods upon her would click their tongue and look away as she all but closed the distance without moving a muscle, her gaze was inviting; but not warmly in fact she was laying a trap before them one they were both open to and whilst it was common knowledge that she lured men into such situations? She enjoyed being played just the same. The danger of being caught, the alarm of being seen and the carelessness being met with her own? She suppressed a shuddered breath at the lion before her and just wiggled her brows in a silent voice of waiting.
For the briefest moment, the woman snorted as he pried her grasp from his jaw thinking him almost cowardly in a single move until she watched him pry.. No not pry, she watched him tear the wooden armrest from the kline and already she was licking her lip. Something dark lay beneath this mans surface and she wanted to find it, roll in like a pig in muck; now she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him as he set the wood down in such silence that she could only hear her heart pounding in delight. There was no time for Agathe to think before his arm encaptured her waist with his free hand finding her neck, pressureless that she wanted just something of a squeeze around her throat. Agathe exhaled a small “Oh..” Of a breath before silence followed with his lips claiming her own in not just a kiss, no he was claiming her mouth with his own and she was all too happy to allow as she leaned forward; closing all distance between them.
Her nails grazed down the forearm extending from her neck, up along his bicep before grasping her fingers firmly around the back of his neck; chest arching her breast into the fingers that barely grazed. He was playing with her, Agathe knew this and while women thrived for the tease to end; she too knew the men were just the same, craving a willing climax being drawn out into a long game of want, desire; no conditions, dangerous sex. Her tongue danced with his own, fighting for dominance in a tangle they both yearned for, the thrill they both dared to gamble and even when he pulled back she didn’t move her hand from the back of his neck.
Even that delicate taste of a kiss pressed to the point beneath her jaw lingering as he now sat smirking towards her; dark eyes holding her burning own. They both knew that the other wanted more, especially with her chest heaving in each panted breath of a wolf with a sheep in its sights; she too smirk hand lowering slowly from the back of his neck making sure that her nails grazed down the length of his arm before settling in her lap. Still, she didn’t ask his name; instead she retrieved her cup of wine and took a long, thoughtful sip mostly still the raging need thudding within her chest.
In all truth, she was searching for something clever to say but her mind was racing with every option that included not of words but more of.. That. Most people she had entangled herself with still treated her like a lady but him? Oh he didn’t, she knew that much by the hand he set around her neck, he could’ve squeezed, choked her, he could’ve done absolutely anything and he made sure she knew that much and it was.. Exciting. “I think I’ve met my match..” Agathe uttered at last.
The courtyard had grown so quiet, quiet enough that even the breeze in the trees seemed to be holding it’s breath in the tension building between the pair as she just continued to stare through him with her spoken challenge. Gods upon her would click their tongue and look away as she all but closed the distance without moving a muscle, her gaze was inviting; but not warmly in fact she was laying a trap before them one they were both open to and whilst it was common knowledge that she lured men into such situations? She enjoyed being played just the same. The danger of being caught, the alarm of being seen and the carelessness being met with her own? She suppressed a shuddered breath at the lion before her and just wiggled her brows in a silent voice of waiting.
For the briefest moment, the woman snorted as he pried her grasp from his jaw thinking him almost cowardly in a single move until she watched him pry.. No not pry, she watched him tear the wooden armrest from the kline and already she was licking her lip. Something dark lay beneath this mans surface and she wanted to find it, roll in like a pig in muck; now she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him as he set the wood down in such silence that she could only hear her heart pounding in delight. There was no time for Agathe to think before his arm encaptured her waist with his free hand finding her neck, pressureless that she wanted just something of a squeeze around her throat. Agathe exhaled a small “Oh..” Of a breath before silence followed with his lips claiming her own in not just a kiss, no he was claiming her mouth with his own and she was all too happy to allow as she leaned forward; closing all distance between them.
Her nails grazed down the forearm extending from her neck, up along his bicep before grasping her fingers firmly around the back of his neck; chest arching her breast into the fingers that barely grazed. He was playing with her, Agathe knew this and while women thrived for the tease to end; she too knew the men were just the same, craving a willing climax being drawn out into a long game of want, desire; no conditions, dangerous sex. Her tongue danced with his own, fighting for dominance in a tangle they both yearned for, the thrill they both dared to gamble and even when he pulled back she didn’t move her hand from the back of his neck.
Even that delicate taste of a kiss pressed to the point beneath her jaw lingering as he now sat smirking towards her; dark eyes holding her burning own. They both knew that the other wanted more, especially with her chest heaving in each panted breath of a wolf with a sheep in its sights; she too smirk hand lowering slowly from the back of his neck making sure that her nails grazed down the length of his arm before settling in her lap. Still, she didn’t ask his name; instead she retrieved her cup of wine and took a long, thoughtful sip mostly still the raging need thudding within her chest.
In all truth, she was searching for something clever to say but her mind was racing with every option that included not of words but more of.. That. Most people she had entangled herself with still treated her like a lady but him? Oh he didn’t, she knew that much by the hand he set around her neck, he could’ve squeezed, choked her, he could’ve done absolutely anything and he made sure she knew that much and it was.. Exciting. “I think I’ve met my match..” Agathe uttered at last.
That derisive snort didn't last for very long. Clearly, she'd expected some sort of reprimand or rebuke once she'd 'pressed him too far.' The idea that her goading would earn her anything less than exactly what she'd asked for was ludicrous. Challenge excited Aivon, just as the challenge he'd been issued earlier in the day had. While his muscles were sore from the exertion of combat, the blood pumped hot in his veins and the exhilarating tension between himself and this plucky royal spiraled towards inevitability.
"Oh."
She uttered it as if surprised, undone by the fact that he'd removed the obstacle between them and met her challenge. A dare? It was an invitation, one that he would be insane to ignore. A kiss was hardly what he had in mind now that she'd found herself in his snare. Nails grazed their trail along his arm, the gooseflesh forming in his wake. Intoxicating yearning could be as powerful a pull as any drug, and he craved. Gentleness no longer seemed a factor, or perhaps it never was.
"I think I've met my match."
This game was one played instinctively, the curl in his stomach pulling him closer into that kiss. Her tongue warred against his, burning against his mouth. However, as she curled a hand around his neck and drew him closer, he wrapped his arms around her.
Inch by inch, he drew her further and further off the kline, until with a controlled motion, he could sweep her onto the ground with him. He hovered over her body as he licked his lips, winking at the woman before his hand shifted, to draw along her jawline once again before grasping at her throat. This time, he did apply pressure, all too eager to feel the pulse against his palm before he leaned in to whisper in her ear,
"You flatter yourself to think you ever had a chance."
With that, he crushed his lips against hers once again, that hand slowly sliding from her throat to allow him his space to claim her lips, tongue, and slowly inch his hand down further until it slid between the divine of her peplos. Slowly, he pried the fabric apart, his palm kneading her breast until he recalled where they were. His lips curved into a smirk as his other hand tread along the plane of her thigh, toying more and more with this woman. She was dangerous, allure pulling him into a reckless decision. He'd just finished his first of three bouts and yet he wanted little more then to tear the fabric from her shoulders and have his way with her.
Aivon did not often deny himself of his wants.
He hovered over her, a hand sliding from her form to undo the clasp that held his chiton to his shoulder. The fabric fell, but was supported at the waist with a thick leather belt. Littered across his chest would be the wine-stained skin covered with linen wraps, betraying the injuries he bore. From the excitement, one could even begin to see the scarlet ooze into the twine, very faint lines as he forgot himself in the midst of this... pursuit.
"You have a choice to make, your grace. Should I have you now? Or will you lead me somewhere?"
He offered her a wide smirk, just as he released her throat, the pressure lax as one hand gingerly traced her collarbone, the other supporting his weight on the ground as he continued to hover over her.
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That derisive snort didn't last for very long. Clearly, she'd expected some sort of reprimand or rebuke once she'd 'pressed him too far.' The idea that her goading would earn her anything less than exactly what she'd asked for was ludicrous. Challenge excited Aivon, just as the challenge he'd been issued earlier in the day had. While his muscles were sore from the exertion of combat, the blood pumped hot in his veins and the exhilarating tension between himself and this plucky royal spiraled towards inevitability.
"Oh."
She uttered it as if surprised, undone by the fact that he'd removed the obstacle between them and met her challenge. A dare? It was an invitation, one that he would be insane to ignore. A kiss was hardly what he had in mind now that she'd found herself in his snare. Nails grazed their trail along his arm, the gooseflesh forming in his wake. Intoxicating yearning could be as powerful a pull as any drug, and he craved. Gentleness no longer seemed a factor, or perhaps it never was.
"I think I've met my match."
This game was one played instinctively, the curl in his stomach pulling him closer into that kiss. Her tongue warred against his, burning against his mouth. However, as she curled a hand around his neck and drew him closer, he wrapped his arms around her.
Inch by inch, he drew her further and further off the kline, until with a controlled motion, he could sweep her onto the ground with him. He hovered over her body as he licked his lips, winking at the woman before his hand shifted, to draw along her jawline once again before grasping at her throat. This time, he did apply pressure, all too eager to feel the pulse against his palm before he leaned in to whisper in her ear,
"You flatter yourself to think you ever had a chance."
With that, he crushed his lips against hers once again, that hand slowly sliding from her throat to allow him his space to claim her lips, tongue, and slowly inch his hand down further until it slid between the divine of her peplos. Slowly, he pried the fabric apart, his palm kneading her breast until he recalled where they were. His lips curved into a smirk as his other hand tread along the plane of her thigh, toying more and more with this woman. She was dangerous, allure pulling him into a reckless decision. He'd just finished his first of three bouts and yet he wanted little more then to tear the fabric from her shoulders and have his way with her.
Aivon did not often deny himself of his wants.
He hovered over her, a hand sliding from her form to undo the clasp that held his chiton to his shoulder. The fabric fell, but was supported at the waist with a thick leather belt. Littered across his chest would be the wine-stained skin covered with linen wraps, betraying the injuries he bore. From the excitement, one could even begin to see the scarlet ooze into the twine, very faint lines as he forgot himself in the midst of this... pursuit.
"You have a choice to make, your grace. Should I have you now? Or will you lead me somewhere?"
He offered her a wide smirk, just as he released her throat, the pressure lax as one hand gingerly traced her collarbone, the other supporting his weight on the ground as he continued to hover over her.
That derisive snort didn't last for very long. Clearly, she'd expected some sort of reprimand or rebuke once she'd 'pressed him too far.' The idea that her goading would earn her anything less than exactly what she'd asked for was ludicrous. Challenge excited Aivon, just as the challenge he'd been issued earlier in the day had. While his muscles were sore from the exertion of combat, the blood pumped hot in his veins and the exhilarating tension between himself and this plucky royal spiraled towards inevitability.
"Oh."
She uttered it as if surprised, undone by the fact that he'd removed the obstacle between them and met her challenge. A dare? It was an invitation, one that he would be insane to ignore. A kiss was hardly what he had in mind now that she'd found herself in his snare. Nails grazed their trail along his arm, the gooseflesh forming in his wake. Intoxicating yearning could be as powerful a pull as any drug, and he craved. Gentleness no longer seemed a factor, or perhaps it never was.
"I think I've met my match."
This game was one played instinctively, the curl in his stomach pulling him closer into that kiss. Her tongue warred against his, burning against his mouth. However, as she curled a hand around his neck and drew him closer, he wrapped his arms around her.
Inch by inch, he drew her further and further off the kline, until with a controlled motion, he could sweep her onto the ground with him. He hovered over her body as he licked his lips, winking at the woman before his hand shifted, to draw along her jawline once again before grasping at her throat. This time, he did apply pressure, all too eager to feel the pulse against his palm before he leaned in to whisper in her ear,
"You flatter yourself to think you ever had a chance."
With that, he crushed his lips against hers once again, that hand slowly sliding from her throat to allow him his space to claim her lips, tongue, and slowly inch his hand down further until it slid between the divine of her peplos. Slowly, he pried the fabric apart, his palm kneading her breast until he recalled where they were. His lips curved into a smirk as his other hand tread along the plane of her thigh, toying more and more with this woman. She was dangerous, allure pulling him into a reckless decision. He'd just finished his first of three bouts and yet he wanted little more then to tear the fabric from her shoulders and have his way with her.
Aivon did not often deny himself of his wants.
He hovered over her, a hand sliding from her form to undo the clasp that held his chiton to his shoulder. The fabric fell, but was supported at the waist with a thick leather belt. Littered across his chest would be the wine-stained skin covered with linen wraps, betraying the injuries he bore. From the excitement, one could even begin to see the scarlet ooze into the twine, very faint lines as he forgot himself in the midst of this... pursuit.
"You have a choice to make, your grace. Should I have you now? Or will you lead me somewhere?"
He offered her a wide smirk, just as he released her throat, the pressure lax as one hand gingerly traced her collarbone, the other supporting his weight on the ground as he continued to hover over her.
Agathe was so accustomed to her opponents being less combative in her game of seduction that she hadn’t expected him to take such a lead and turn her into the mouse skittering around his den. If she was able to string a decent thought together, she’d grow quite aware that she was in trouble; that he had her exactly where he wanted rather than the other way around but alas she couldn’t and was instead just circling around the need for more, to see what he was truly made of. He was a challenge, he was excitement, fire and everything that could ruin her life if she was to let him; which was growing more and more likely if his hand were to find her neck once more.
This time when his lips claimed hers, she abandoned all conscious thought warring her tongue with his own for that dominant hand; the cup of wine falling from her grasp as the now free hand settled upon his shoulder, pulling herself firmly against him. It was simple, he made her feel alive; he knew what she wanted it and how she wanted it just by listening to her body or thats how she thought of it as she tucked a leg under her frame for that additional leverage. Leverage which would allow him to sweep his arms around her small frame until she was being steered away from the kline towards the ground, momentum allowing her legs to drape themselves around the back of his thighs where she just fluttered her lashes up at him.
Drinking in the sight of him towering above her with a delicious bite of her lip as if she were eyeing the juiciest platter of fruits she had ever seen; head turning to meet his touch with the edge of her jaw and then it happened. His hand wrapped around her throat and she knew he just pushed her common sense from the highest cliffside and poor Agathe couldn’t prevent the gasp of delight as his fingers tightened until her pulse was beating against the flat of his palm. He was playing her like a harp, plucking her strings like the simplest of notes and worst of all? Agathe was allowing him to, even when he uttered such callous words in her ear she moaned because it wasn’t a fantasy of more; he didn’t expect anything romantic to develop and neither did she.. They were on the same court, making the same moves and it was the most free she had been.
Her fingertips clutched at the fabric of his chiton dragging him firmly against her as their mouths crushed themselves together in an even display of throwing caution to the winds, breath shuddering as he brushed his fingertips down further, lower and further still until they were beneath the fabric of her peplos kneading his palm over her breast in a way that most men ignored and there it came. That soft, wanting moan mewling free from the confines of her throat with her own hand tangling her fingertips against the back of his head and her teeth tugging firmly on his lower lip. “Maybe I knew I didn’t and I wanted someone worthy to play with.”
Her tone could barely manage a husk of a whisper as her thighs relaxed away from his waist in response to those wandering digits trailing the length of her inner thigh until she was watching the clasp of chiton peeling free, the now unbound fabric falling from his shoulder to reveal a mass of linen shielding his wounds from her gaze. Wounds she danced her fingers over, carving each ridge of muscle with a single nail with her eyes travelling lower and lower still with a subtle lick of her lower lip. Oh he could ruin her life, she knew that to be fact enough that the twinge of alarm could only excite the woman further; enough in fact that right here and now seemed like a beautiful idea as any.
For a moment she allowed his question to hang in the air between them, her gaze turning to the arm holding him upright above her as she turned her head pressing her lips to the bulging veins of his forearm and up, nipping and biting at the taught skin until her teeth found his shoulder with her hand falling behind her to perch herself upright to do so. “Here would be delicious but I have an image to uphold.”
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Agathe was so accustomed to her opponents being less combative in her game of seduction that she hadn’t expected him to take such a lead and turn her into the mouse skittering around his den. If she was able to string a decent thought together, she’d grow quite aware that she was in trouble; that he had her exactly where he wanted rather than the other way around but alas she couldn’t and was instead just circling around the need for more, to see what he was truly made of. He was a challenge, he was excitement, fire and everything that could ruin her life if she was to let him; which was growing more and more likely if his hand were to find her neck once more.
This time when his lips claimed hers, she abandoned all conscious thought warring her tongue with his own for that dominant hand; the cup of wine falling from her grasp as the now free hand settled upon his shoulder, pulling herself firmly against him. It was simple, he made her feel alive; he knew what she wanted it and how she wanted it just by listening to her body or thats how she thought of it as she tucked a leg under her frame for that additional leverage. Leverage which would allow him to sweep his arms around her small frame until she was being steered away from the kline towards the ground, momentum allowing her legs to drape themselves around the back of his thighs where she just fluttered her lashes up at him.
Drinking in the sight of him towering above her with a delicious bite of her lip as if she were eyeing the juiciest platter of fruits she had ever seen; head turning to meet his touch with the edge of her jaw and then it happened. His hand wrapped around her throat and she knew he just pushed her common sense from the highest cliffside and poor Agathe couldn’t prevent the gasp of delight as his fingers tightened until her pulse was beating against the flat of his palm. He was playing her like a harp, plucking her strings like the simplest of notes and worst of all? Agathe was allowing him to, even when he uttered such callous words in her ear she moaned because it wasn’t a fantasy of more; he didn’t expect anything romantic to develop and neither did she.. They were on the same court, making the same moves and it was the most free she had been.
Her fingertips clutched at the fabric of his chiton dragging him firmly against her as their mouths crushed themselves together in an even display of throwing caution to the winds, breath shuddering as he brushed his fingertips down further, lower and further still until they were beneath the fabric of her peplos kneading his palm over her breast in a way that most men ignored and there it came. That soft, wanting moan mewling free from the confines of her throat with her own hand tangling her fingertips against the back of his head and her teeth tugging firmly on his lower lip. “Maybe I knew I didn’t and I wanted someone worthy to play with.”
Her tone could barely manage a husk of a whisper as her thighs relaxed away from his waist in response to those wandering digits trailing the length of her inner thigh until she was watching the clasp of chiton peeling free, the now unbound fabric falling from his shoulder to reveal a mass of linen shielding his wounds from her gaze. Wounds she danced her fingers over, carving each ridge of muscle with a single nail with her eyes travelling lower and lower still with a subtle lick of her lower lip. Oh he could ruin her life, she knew that to be fact enough that the twinge of alarm could only excite the woman further; enough in fact that right here and now seemed like a beautiful idea as any.
For a moment she allowed his question to hang in the air between them, her gaze turning to the arm holding him upright above her as she turned her head pressing her lips to the bulging veins of his forearm and up, nipping and biting at the taught skin until her teeth found his shoulder with her hand falling behind her to perch herself upright to do so. “Here would be delicious but I have an image to uphold.”
Agathe was so accustomed to her opponents being less combative in her game of seduction that she hadn’t expected him to take such a lead and turn her into the mouse skittering around his den. If she was able to string a decent thought together, she’d grow quite aware that she was in trouble; that he had her exactly where he wanted rather than the other way around but alas she couldn’t and was instead just circling around the need for more, to see what he was truly made of. He was a challenge, he was excitement, fire and everything that could ruin her life if she was to let him; which was growing more and more likely if his hand were to find her neck once more.
This time when his lips claimed hers, she abandoned all conscious thought warring her tongue with his own for that dominant hand; the cup of wine falling from her grasp as the now free hand settled upon his shoulder, pulling herself firmly against him. It was simple, he made her feel alive; he knew what she wanted it and how she wanted it just by listening to her body or thats how she thought of it as she tucked a leg under her frame for that additional leverage. Leverage which would allow him to sweep his arms around her small frame until she was being steered away from the kline towards the ground, momentum allowing her legs to drape themselves around the back of his thighs where she just fluttered her lashes up at him.
Drinking in the sight of him towering above her with a delicious bite of her lip as if she were eyeing the juiciest platter of fruits she had ever seen; head turning to meet his touch with the edge of her jaw and then it happened. His hand wrapped around her throat and she knew he just pushed her common sense from the highest cliffside and poor Agathe couldn’t prevent the gasp of delight as his fingers tightened until her pulse was beating against the flat of his palm. He was playing her like a harp, plucking her strings like the simplest of notes and worst of all? Agathe was allowing him to, even when he uttered such callous words in her ear she moaned because it wasn’t a fantasy of more; he didn’t expect anything romantic to develop and neither did she.. They were on the same court, making the same moves and it was the most free she had been.
Her fingertips clutched at the fabric of his chiton dragging him firmly against her as their mouths crushed themselves together in an even display of throwing caution to the winds, breath shuddering as he brushed his fingertips down further, lower and further still until they were beneath the fabric of her peplos kneading his palm over her breast in a way that most men ignored and there it came. That soft, wanting moan mewling free from the confines of her throat with her own hand tangling her fingertips against the back of his head and her teeth tugging firmly on his lower lip. “Maybe I knew I didn’t and I wanted someone worthy to play with.”
Her tone could barely manage a husk of a whisper as her thighs relaxed away from his waist in response to those wandering digits trailing the length of her inner thigh until she was watching the clasp of chiton peeling free, the now unbound fabric falling from his shoulder to reveal a mass of linen shielding his wounds from her gaze. Wounds she danced her fingers over, carving each ridge of muscle with a single nail with her eyes travelling lower and lower still with a subtle lick of her lower lip. Oh he could ruin her life, she knew that to be fact enough that the twinge of alarm could only excite the woman further; enough in fact that right here and now seemed like a beautiful idea as any.
For a moment she allowed his question to hang in the air between them, her gaze turning to the arm holding him upright above her as she turned her head pressing her lips to the bulging veins of his forearm and up, nipping and biting at the taught skin until her teeth found his shoulder with her hand falling behind her to perch herself upright to do so. “Here would be delicious but I have an image to uphold.”
There was no sense in playing a game he made no effort to win. It was callous of this woman, to draw in and expect anything else. She held her allure like a weapon, but ultimately sought to disarm herself and be satisfied with the reward of being conquest. Words were no longer a factor as he claimed her lips, when her tongue warred against his own and that cup falling with a clatter. The sanguine fluid might have seeped into the woman's own peplos and stained into porcelain skin or blonde hair as she tucked her leg and allowed him to slide his arm beneath her.
Every shift seemed a practised move, marking Agathe more and more as the prize he'd expected her to be. He licked his lips once theirs parted, the taste of her and the wine still fresh on his tongue just as he found her gaze wandering to the wounds and linen straps beneath the chiton that'd shifted in direction. He toyed with her, again and again as she took what she wanted, firmly grabbing what was left of his chiton, pulling him closer to her so that mouths met once more. It could not be confused for romance, her voracious appetite that quelled to him only in recognition of the route to her satisfaction being made clear.
Lips curved in a wry smile as she explored, tracing the contours of his musculature. He awaited her answer, giving her the benefit of motion, lest her disgrace and his situation be jeopardized. In the end, being ostracized by the Marikas so soon into his time affiliated with them... seemed a poor choice. When Agathe agreed with him, he nodded, though her play did not cease. Instead, she kissed along the protruding vein of his forearm and up along the flesh. He'd grown impatient as salacious thoughts steeped within his brain, his dark eyes glazed with the mirth of imagining his play, tearing the clothes from her form and claiming everything that he deprived himself of now.
Once she moved beneath him, Aivon pulled off, rising to his feet and offering the woman his hand lest she desire assistance. Once the both of them began to move, they left the courtyard behind, and he could hear the scuffling steps of guards. Still half-hidden by plants and the shade, Aivon claimed hold on the woman's shoulder, turning her body until her back pressed into the ridge of his chest, an arm curled about her waist as the scuffle of footsteps against floor grew louder, then faded away.
Fingers swept along the fabric of Agathe's peplos, little by little unraveling the fabric. Surely, it was secured at the waist, so the cinch at the shoulder falling to reveal the plane of her back meant nothing. His fingers traced along the length of her spine to just beneath her shoulderblades. His hands kneaded bared breasts, his knuckles pushing into the surface of the wall. To tease her, to remind her as they shifted through her estate, exactly what it was they needed to remain so discrete for.
"Which way?" he asked, entirely unfamiliar with the grounds. It was an odd thing, to need to rely on the mental compass of another, but in the end, this would be the only concession he'd make to her. He pulled back from the wall once the way was clear, all too aware of the mess of wine they'd left near that kline as well as the torn arm-rest that left splintered wood all over the floor. More for the help to deal with. What it did concern him with was that people might be aware of Agathe's propensity for that hiding place, and be compelled to investigate further.
"We should avoid your bedchambers. For all they know, you've been gone since the fight."
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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There was no sense in playing a game he made no effort to win. It was callous of this woman, to draw in and expect anything else. She held her allure like a weapon, but ultimately sought to disarm herself and be satisfied with the reward of being conquest. Words were no longer a factor as he claimed her lips, when her tongue warred against his own and that cup falling with a clatter. The sanguine fluid might have seeped into the woman's own peplos and stained into porcelain skin or blonde hair as she tucked her leg and allowed him to slide his arm beneath her.
Every shift seemed a practised move, marking Agathe more and more as the prize he'd expected her to be. He licked his lips once theirs parted, the taste of her and the wine still fresh on his tongue just as he found her gaze wandering to the wounds and linen straps beneath the chiton that'd shifted in direction. He toyed with her, again and again as she took what she wanted, firmly grabbing what was left of his chiton, pulling him closer to her so that mouths met once more. It could not be confused for romance, her voracious appetite that quelled to him only in recognition of the route to her satisfaction being made clear.
Lips curved in a wry smile as she explored, tracing the contours of his musculature. He awaited her answer, giving her the benefit of motion, lest her disgrace and his situation be jeopardized. In the end, being ostracized by the Marikas so soon into his time affiliated with them... seemed a poor choice. When Agathe agreed with him, he nodded, though her play did not cease. Instead, she kissed along the protruding vein of his forearm and up along the flesh. He'd grown impatient as salacious thoughts steeped within his brain, his dark eyes glazed with the mirth of imagining his play, tearing the clothes from her form and claiming everything that he deprived himself of now.
Once she moved beneath him, Aivon pulled off, rising to his feet and offering the woman his hand lest she desire assistance. Once the both of them began to move, they left the courtyard behind, and he could hear the scuffling steps of guards. Still half-hidden by plants and the shade, Aivon claimed hold on the woman's shoulder, turning her body until her back pressed into the ridge of his chest, an arm curled about her waist as the scuffle of footsteps against floor grew louder, then faded away.
Fingers swept along the fabric of Agathe's peplos, little by little unraveling the fabric. Surely, it was secured at the waist, so the cinch at the shoulder falling to reveal the plane of her back meant nothing. His fingers traced along the length of her spine to just beneath her shoulderblades. His hands kneaded bared breasts, his knuckles pushing into the surface of the wall. To tease her, to remind her as they shifted through her estate, exactly what it was they needed to remain so discrete for.
"Which way?" he asked, entirely unfamiliar with the grounds. It was an odd thing, to need to rely on the mental compass of another, but in the end, this would be the only concession he'd make to her. He pulled back from the wall once the way was clear, all too aware of the mess of wine they'd left near that kline as well as the torn arm-rest that left splintered wood all over the floor. More for the help to deal with. What it did concern him with was that people might be aware of Agathe's propensity for that hiding place, and be compelled to investigate further.
"We should avoid your bedchambers. For all they know, you've been gone since the fight."
There was no sense in playing a game he made no effort to win. It was callous of this woman, to draw in and expect anything else. She held her allure like a weapon, but ultimately sought to disarm herself and be satisfied with the reward of being conquest. Words were no longer a factor as he claimed her lips, when her tongue warred against his own and that cup falling with a clatter. The sanguine fluid might have seeped into the woman's own peplos and stained into porcelain skin or blonde hair as she tucked her leg and allowed him to slide his arm beneath her.
Every shift seemed a practised move, marking Agathe more and more as the prize he'd expected her to be. He licked his lips once theirs parted, the taste of her and the wine still fresh on his tongue just as he found her gaze wandering to the wounds and linen straps beneath the chiton that'd shifted in direction. He toyed with her, again and again as she took what she wanted, firmly grabbing what was left of his chiton, pulling him closer to her so that mouths met once more. It could not be confused for romance, her voracious appetite that quelled to him only in recognition of the route to her satisfaction being made clear.
Lips curved in a wry smile as she explored, tracing the contours of his musculature. He awaited her answer, giving her the benefit of motion, lest her disgrace and his situation be jeopardized. In the end, being ostracized by the Marikas so soon into his time affiliated with them... seemed a poor choice. When Agathe agreed with him, he nodded, though her play did not cease. Instead, she kissed along the protruding vein of his forearm and up along the flesh. He'd grown impatient as salacious thoughts steeped within his brain, his dark eyes glazed with the mirth of imagining his play, tearing the clothes from her form and claiming everything that he deprived himself of now.
Once she moved beneath him, Aivon pulled off, rising to his feet and offering the woman his hand lest she desire assistance. Once the both of them began to move, they left the courtyard behind, and he could hear the scuffling steps of guards. Still half-hidden by plants and the shade, Aivon claimed hold on the woman's shoulder, turning her body until her back pressed into the ridge of his chest, an arm curled about her waist as the scuffle of footsteps against floor grew louder, then faded away.
Fingers swept along the fabric of Agathe's peplos, little by little unraveling the fabric. Surely, it was secured at the waist, so the cinch at the shoulder falling to reveal the plane of her back meant nothing. His fingers traced along the length of her spine to just beneath her shoulderblades. His hands kneaded bared breasts, his knuckles pushing into the surface of the wall. To tease her, to remind her as they shifted through her estate, exactly what it was they needed to remain so discrete for.
"Which way?" he asked, entirely unfamiliar with the grounds. It was an odd thing, to need to rely on the mental compass of another, but in the end, this would be the only concession he'd make to her. He pulled back from the wall once the way was clear, all too aware of the mess of wine they'd left near that kline as well as the torn arm-rest that left splintered wood all over the floor. More for the help to deal with. What it did concern him with was that people might be aware of Agathe's propensity for that hiding place, and be compelled to investigate further.
"We should avoid your bedchambers. For all they know, you've been gone since the fight."
