I would fall from grace just to touch your face
She knew everyone. Even before she became queen. How many people fell into her bed and spoke of others that inhabited their shared home? Those that had spurned them, gossip, heartbreak, musings of mysterious individuals that breathed the same salty air they did. Maeve heard it all, tucking little bits and pieces away to think on later or to further explore, never knowing when that information might be useful. Knowing Jacob was to satisfy her own curiosity, though.
He wasn't spoken about by those who filled her bed. No. There were whispers of the strange man who seemed to hide himself away. A recluse with nothing but cats for company. Books upon books to fill his time. Maeve was intrigued. There weren't many who kept away from her door, but he was one of the few. She couldn't help wondering why. So she investigated, gathering what little information she could about the handsome individual who curled in on himself like he was afraid to take up space, tucking it all away for when the time came.
It seemed that time was now. Her smile was sweet even as Aidon continued to grumble his complaints, overly protective of his bonded in a way that only grew with each passing day, but Maeve turned her her eyes to her dragon for but a moment. "Arrête ces bêtises, mon amour. Va jouer." The words came quickly, hushed by the waves that crashed against the shoreline and with one last look towards Jacob, Aidon set off towards the water's edge once more. Clearly unhappy with being sent away. He went anyway, but not without another glance sent Jacob's way that held clear warning.
Madam was a title she was more familiar with. More comfortable. With it, her entire body eased and she lowered her book to her lap, still holding her page with her finger. "I heard as much. Did you find what you were looking for out there?" She asked curiously, gaze raking over him from head to toe, noting the way he gripped his boots tightly and his other hand curled around the strap of his bag in a white knuckled grip. Only when he noticed that she was reading was there a sudden ease tugging at his clenched muscles, urging them to release that tension he was holding to so tightly, and then there was a smile. It was shy and reserved and a touch cautious, but it was sweet all the same.
Her own grew, eyes sparking with invitation as she motioned to the empty space beside her on the blanket. "Sit down and I'll read you some." Maeve invited, already pulling her eyes away from his to focus back on the page, clearing her throat as she fingers rasped against the paper, voice dipping into something lilting and almost sultry as it formed the words. "Bring me your pain, love. Spread it out like fine rugs, silk sashes, warm eggs, cinnamon and cloves in burlap sacks."
The Nightshade began, breathing life into the words and lifting from the page, wrapping them around both of them like the warmest blanket. "Show me the detail, the intricate embroidery on the collar, tiny shell buttons, the hem stitched the way you were taught, pricking just a thread, almost invisible." A pause for a breath, eyes flashing over to him, a faint flush on her cheeks as her lips curved around the words. "Unclasp it like jewels, the gold still hot from your body. Empty your basket of figs. Spill your wine."
"That hard nugget of pain, I would suck it, cradling it on my tongue like the slick seed of pomegranate. I would lift it tenderly, as a great animal might carry a small one in the private cave of the mouth. Maeve finally finished, clearing her throat before a soft laugh pushed past her lips, a hand reaching up to push wind swept curls from her face.
"What do you think?" She asked almost playfully, a light of mischief swirling in her gaze, leaning towards him as if she's sharing some sort of secret.
He wasn't spoken about by those who filled her bed. No. There were whispers of the strange man who seemed to hide himself away. A recluse with nothing but cats for company. Books upon books to fill his time. Maeve was intrigued. There weren't many who kept away from her door, but he was one of the few. She couldn't help wondering why. So she investigated, gathering what little information she could about the handsome individual who curled in on himself like he was afraid to take up space, tucking it all away for when the time came.
It seemed that time was now. Her smile was sweet even as Aidon continued to grumble his complaints, overly protective of his bonded in a way that only grew with each passing day, but Maeve turned her her eyes to her dragon for but a moment. "Arrête ces bêtises, mon amour. Va jouer." The words came quickly, hushed by the waves that crashed against the shoreline and with one last look towards Jacob, Aidon set off towards the water's edge once more. Clearly unhappy with being sent away. He went anyway, but not without another glance sent Jacob's way that held clear warning.
Madam was a title she was more familiar with. More comfortable. With it, her entire body eased and she lowered her book to her lap, still holding her page with her finger. "I heard as much. Did you find what you were looking for out there?" She asked curiously, gaze raking over him from head to toe, noting the way he gripped his boots tightly and his other hand curled around the strap of his bag in a white knuckled grip. Only when he noticed that she was reading was there a sudden ease tugging at his clenched muscles, urging them to release that tension he was holding to so tightly, and then there was a smile. It was shy and reserved and a touch cautious, but it was sweet all the same.
Her own grew, eyes sparking with invitation as she motioned to the empty space beside her on the blanket. "Sit down and I'll read you some." Maeve invited, already pulling her eyes away from his to focus back on the page, clearing her throat as she fingers rasped against the paper, voice dipping into something lilting and almost sultry as it formed the words. "Bring me your pain, love. Spread it out like fine rugs, silk sashes, warm eggs, cinnamon and cloves in burlap sacks."
The Nightshade began, breathing life into the words and lifting from the page, wrapping them around both of them like the warmest blanket. "Show me the detail, the intricate embroidery on the collar, tiny shell buttons, the hem stitched the way you were taught, pricking just a thread, almost invisible." A pause for a breath, eyes flashing over to him, a faint flush on her cheeks as her lips curved around the words. "Unclasp it like jewels, the gold still hot from your body. Empty your basket of figs. Spill your wine."
"That hard nugget of pain, I would suck it, cradling it on my tongue like the slick seed of pomegranate. I would lift it tenderly, as a great animal might carry a small one in the private cave of the mouth. Maeve finally finished, clearing her throat before a soft laugh pushed past her lips, a hand reaching up to push wind swept curls from her face.
"What do you think?" She asked almost playfully, a light of mischief swirling in her gaze, leaning towards him as if she's sharing some sort of secret.
Maeve
