Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[The Kingpin]

The Scholar took the offer, biting onto and pulling away what he was given. It was only moments before another plate arrived with a second helping, which would quickly be disposed of. "Leave the worries of royalty to royalty, dear. As far as I'm concerned, we're a couple in the middle of nowhere. No sense burdening ourselves with such things and decency and etiquette," he stated as he started to up the pace of his meal, knowing the Mage would very likely be satisfied before he was.

[C S]

Syria downed another mouthful and said, "Believe me, I have no care to worry my head with the lives of sovereigns." Which brought up another aspect of marriage she felt needing addressing. The redhead cleared her throat. "As such, I would much prefer a small affair to make our union... er... official. Guthander dinner as a family at Willow and the professor's house? So that they can give you their blessing?"

[The Kingpin]

"I believe they already have given us their blessings," commented Septimus between mouthfuls, though he did not slow his pace, somehow managing to maintain an air of civility about him as he ate.

[C S]

"Their blessing to have you peeping in my clothes and all the other things, maybe. Marriage is something else, Seppy. It'll do their hearts good to have us return to them as a prim and proper pair, and Willow will call you 'son, and Beshi... er... I may be digressing a bit." Syria went back to eating, looking somewhat sheepish.

[The Kingpin]

The Scholar chuckled as he set aside his plate, content for the time being as he took a sip of his drink. "Nobody's here to care, dear. Digress to your heart's desire," he stated amusedly.

[C S]

"But I'd rather not have my plate go cold after all of your work," the mage responded mid-way into another bite of her Ridgehorn.

[The Kingpin]

"I could always reheat it. You don't really think I'm going to eat my fill now, do you?" he asked half-jokingly. It was clear from the helping on his plate and the size of its source that he intended to eat everything that was over the fire. Though considering the fact he was eating off a plate, it wasn't hard to deduce that he'd be here for a whole week if he stuck to that. Instead, it was more likely he would devour the bulk of it in the morning, long after their merriment and relaxation had passed.

[C S]

"That was me daintily saying, as a lady, that my stomach will not allow me to deny it any longer," Syria replied in plain terms. She held her gaze with Septimus as she chomped into her serving of meat. After chewing and swallowing, she added, "I'd much rather have my fill before any reheating become necessary."

[The Kingpin]

"Why would you deny it in the first place?" he asked, amused. "I've prepared a veritable feast for us two. The greens may be lacking, but between the potatoes, the ridgehorn and the drink, you're free to indulge until you can't move," he stated dramatically. Tipping his mug back and taking a large swig of his drink, he was quick to add, "Though, if you did that you wouldn't be able to enjoy what else I have planned."

[C S]

"I deny it because, while telepathy has its merits, I would much rather speak with my voice; something that eating does not particularly allow very well. And then there's the technicality that this plate alone is more than enough to sate my appetite for the night," said Syria, then with lidded eyes she continued, "Oh, and count on me to be very active in those plans."

[The Kingpin]

The Scholar chuckled as he eased himself out from behind the Mage, rising to a kneel a moment later as he gathered his plate and mug. "Well then, in that case I'd best put away the rest of our feast for later, hadn't I?" he asked, setting the plate down on top of the barrel, the mug settling beside it. Almost immediately, the plate spun off into the darkness like it had been thrown, a splash heard a moment later before it came back, dripping with water and steaming at the same time. Just like that, it had been sent through ice cold river water, brought back and steamed dry.

Other things started to get gathered up as he took off his satchel and set it down heavily at the base of the tree, the seasonings, the plate, even the ridgehorn flank and the barbecue spit. In moments, the only things left were the barrel, Septimus's mug, the fire, and the steaming pool. Had the Mage paid attention to the Scholar rather than the tempest of utensils flying through the air and packing themselves away, she'd have noticed him drag the shirt he was wearing off, the lump of cloth tossed to the flames a few moments later as he made his way slowly towards the cloud of steam across from them; the only visible part of the pool. "By all means, do take your time. I'm not going anywhere," he stated as his figure was enshrouded in the outermost fields of the steam cloud.

[C S]

"I know you're not," Syria responded quietly, mostly to herself even though Septimus' hearing was acute enough to pick up on her words. With a smile on her face as she doubled down to clear off her plate, the mage decided that Letant-Khulruudi would be the name she would claim to signify their union. It flowed nicely.

When she was finished eating, Syria picked up her mug and downed the rest of her wine, and then set it on the plate. She put the plate on the barrel in passing it, and then started undoing the rest of her coat's buttons as she walked towards the pool. The fabric was taken in green light and folded as it fell off her shoulders, just before she reached the steam.




It was snowing again back at Brodudika.

The armored being stood in a lonesome street underneath a fiery lamp, looking up at the individual snowflakes that drifted past his red eyes. There was much to do in the day, and much to do over the night as well. A moment of immortality was spent observing the happenings of another winter in a long string of winters.

The seasons cared not for the dealings of nations or the ambitions of those who existed within those imagined borders.

It was good for Desrium to remind himself of this. Even as he prepared for his newest role in the protection of the city of friends. With evil growing bolder and more ravenous, it was time he stepped in personally. For the ill-hearts he could not confront without driving their fellows into further hiding, he would depend on the efforts already in place. For the ones without such a sickly web to take refuge in, those were the ones his crimson light shined in search of.

[The Kingpin]

By the time the Mage was close enough to the steam that what lay beyond, she would have had just enough time to see what appeared to be a tatty pair of pants shoot through the air, joining the shirt in the fire. "Good riddance," came Septimus's relieved voice from the pool, his eyes glowing their typical rich blue for just a few moments before disappearing behind his facade once more. "Next time I buy a disguise I'm making sure it's actually comfortable," he added a moment later. "Not one thread in that entire outfit was pleasant to have on."

[C S]

Syria looked back at the fire contemplatively and then sat down at the edge of the pool, undoing the laces of her boots. "You and your theatrics, Septimus. I don't imagine those pants being comfortable in the water, either."

[The Kingpin]

While she could not see him clearly for the steam, his voice was no less crisp and clear for it. "You're assuming I had them on when I got in here," he retorted, the smirk audible rather than visible.

[C S]

Syria hummed acknowledgingly. "That seems more apt, I would have to agree. You still have a thing for theatrics, though, for the timing of it. It did light up the trees beautifully when the fire took to the fabric." Syria put her boots aside and then took off her top, setting it next on top of her coat. She moved on to her pants next.

[The Kingpin]

"Wouldn't've thrown it in there if I didn't think it would," he stated, laying back on one side of the pool. "Though to address your train of thought, it actually felt subtly better after some snow had softened it somewhat. It went stiff again as soon as it dried again, unfortunately."

[C S]

"Grandma Willow would say something about 'low thread count'. I say the merchant we got those clothes from liked starch too much. Maybe both." Bearing her bareness, Syria stretched her arms outwards and upwards.

[The Kingpin]

"And the clothes paid the price. Well, not that we exactly need them at the moment," he commented as he shifted, getting comfortable in his spot of the pool as he looked up at the Mage. "Now if only I was any good at drawing or sculpting, perhaps I could manage a poor imitation of you in that pose," he teased.

[C S]

"Perfect memory and all the time in the world to pursue and master those skills. You even have your own portable kiln if you do choose sculpting," the lady replied. She then crossed her legs over the lip of the pool and put her elbows in her lap, resting her chin on her folded hands. Teasingly, she said, "Now of course, you will have my love and support in such things, at present and forever, but my naked body is a private privilege that you and only you can enjoy."