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"Then don't." Loren grinned easily at Weaver. When she spoke about having fun while it lasted, his grin gained a wicked and suggestive edge. "I agree. Not that I mind something a little more serious. At least not these days." He admittedly that easily, having finally gotten over his lingering doubts about having another committed relationship.
And then the grin turned into a full on smirk as she went on. "I can provide both scones and kisses. Though only the gods can help you now that you've grown used to me." He winked at her. However, although his tone was teasing, he would be lying if he said he wasn't at least a little interested in her. Indeed, as she leaned forward, he did the same, though there was still a decent amount of distance between them.
Raising his eyebrows, he gave her a challenging look. "You say that, but I don't think you've ever actually served me." Crossing his arms, he looked between her and the pot of cider, expression entirely amused.
Again, he grew more serious as the conversation did. However, he found himself smiling at her reply. "You have met children, right? Last I checked, they have quite a bit of say over their lives." Indeed, he let out a huff of laughter as he remembered the many, many vocal and loud children who were not at all afraid to speak their minds.
Then he shook his head. "Besides, if anyone should be afraid of having kids here, it's me." He gave her a look that practically dared her to disagree.
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
She gives him an appraising look, some surprise on her face. By now you’d think she’d be used to him surprising her. You’d think maybe he wouldn’t be able to, and yet, he does. ”Well that is rather a change for you, Loren.” There’s something pleased in her voice, something in her eyes that seems to be reappraising him. ”You might do well on this path you’ve set for yourself after all.” Maybe she’d wondered slightly if she’d picked a hopeless case, but she is gratified to see that he may prove her right. He can be who he wants.
”I am not even sure the gods can help me,” she says, and as he leans forward, she closes the distance and kisses his cheek in a teasing way. It’s the way a schoolgirl might kiss her playground crush, caste and quick, though it’s clear she’s doing it on purpose. It is a very Weaver-like thing to do because she likes to tease and not because she is shy. Clearly, shy is the last word anyone would ever use to describe Weaver. She leans back, smiling slightly.
Weaver chuckles, but she gets off the counter and makes her way to the pot with the cider. ”I don’t think this counts. I will make you a proper drink next time you are at the Kraai.” Still, she grabs two glasses and ladles some of the cider into each. Enough to feel pleasant and warm, but hardly enough for anything more. She comes back, handing one over to Loren with an unnecessary flourish in a half bow, before jumping back up on the counter with her own glass.
Her laugh is loud as he asks if she’s met children. ”Of course I have. Gods, you should have met me as a child. If you think I’m a handful now…” Well, to say she had been a terror as a child might be an understatement. ”But you know what I mean,” she adds, though she doesn’t return to being quite so serious as before. ”Though yes, you probably should be concerned.” She nudges him with her elbow slightly, taking a sip of the cider, thinking that he doesn’t have anything to fear at all. He belonged in Halo, and others would see it soon enough.
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
Shrugging, Loren gave Weaver a bemused look. "I always told people I just needed time to get over my losses. I don't know why that was so hard for everyone to believe." However, as she encouraged him, he smiled. "Thank you." He was legitimately grateful, for this and all her patience.
As she kissed his cheek, he let out a huff of laughter. Leaning further forward himself, he kissed her forehead, equally chaste. It was equally clear that he was messing with her as much as she was messing with him.
Toasting to her offer, he grinned. "I'm going to hold you to that. For now, cheers." He sipped from the cider, humming approvingly as it trickled down his throat. "How are those recipes going, by the way?" Expression curious, he curled his fingers around his cup.
"You? A handful? Never." Tone teasing, he nevertheless nodded at her next statement. Then his eyes narrowed in playful and totally mock annoyance. "And just what is that supposed to mean?" He poked her in the ribs, though it was gentle.
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
”Did I deny that you needed time?” she asks, not recalling such a thing (though there had been a lot of booze that first night). ”Still, perhaps they worried you’d get yourself killed before time could heal you.” She gives him a look and a shrug. Though she wasn’t necessarily going to condone the spiral, she’d also only witnessed the tail end of it. He’s told her pieces though, and she imagines there was a time when it was worse than merely drinking and fucking.
She chuckles as he returns the gesture, kissing her forehead just a chastely. Her grin is mischievous, amused, enjoying the fact he could play along with her entirely ridiculous games. Still, she leans forward again, placing a hand on his cheek and finds his lips this time. A light kiss, a simple thing, but a little more real. He tastes like cinnamon and chocolate, like cold wind and magic.
Again, she leans back, returning to the conversation. ”Pretty well. There’s one I’m struggling with though, so maybe you can help me. Maea had thought to do something crisp and cool, kind of like peppermint bark. It just doesn’t feel right to me yet, like maybe it’s missing something? Or too much of something?” She was doing better with the cider and the whiskey combinations, the absinthe, the deeper, richer flavors. She needed Maea to make her idea come to life, but perhaps Loren would have a good idea. ”There’s a cider and whiskey drink I make that is my current favorite. I’ll make you one.”
Weaver giggles slightly as he pokes at her ribs, swatting away his hand with her free one, trying not to spill her cider. ”Hey now, you’ll waste perfectly good booze,” she says, trying to sound annoyed, though clearly she is not. ”And it means absolutely nothing. You have no reason to worry if you decide to have kids here. At least, I don’t think you will when that happens. You belong in Halo. Everyone else will see it soon enough.” Now that is real truth, and she is serious as she says it, meeting his eyes.
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
Shaking his head at Weaver, Loren's eyes crinkled in amusement. "Not you. You've been wonderful." As she brought up others' worries, he snorted. "I don't think that's it at all." Tone wry, he just shrugged.
When her hand touched his cheek his breath hitched for a moment. However, he leaned into the touch a bit, bringing his own hand up to cover hers. When she kissed him, he kissed back, though it was soft and gentle, merely brushing his lips against hers, not asking for anything more.
Letting her pull away, he licked his lips slightly. Cheeks coloring, he sipped from his cider as she brought up the latest experimental drink. "I'm not sure I'm the best person to help you with your ingredients, but I can certainly lend you an extra pair of hands. And lips if needed. All I can suggest is that you might want to add something sweet to balance out the mint" He grinned faintly, which widened when she mentioned she would make him her favorite drink. "Looking forward to it."
Letting out a huff of laughter, he held up his hand to show that no further poking was imminent. "Fine. I'll let you finish your drink first." He spoke as if he was granting her some huge favor, though the smirk on his lips ruined the image a bit.
It turned into a more genuine smile as she spoke. "Thanks. Don't worry, I won't ruin the moment by asking how soon is soon enough." Although it wasn't his strong suit, he could be patient when it really mattered.
04-27-2020, 09:48 PM (This post was last modified: 04-27-2020, 09:59 PM by Weaver.)
Weaver
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
”Wonderful?” she says with some amount of mock shock on her face. ”That is not a word I hear directed at my person very often.” Though she sobers a bit as he disagrees with her, and she gives him a curious look. ”Then what do you think it is?” she asks, waiting for his opinion. After all, he’d been there, and she was doing little more than speculating.
The kiss is not enough, not really. It is a sip of water for someone dying of thirst. It is half a breath when she needs to fill her lungs with air. And yet, it is enough for the moment. It is a start. It is a beginning without pushing, without rushing, without throwing herself headfirst into a pit of vipers and dragging him down with her. Maybe it’s the right way to approach things; as a possibility, as an invitation; as a promise.
She listens to him talk, grinning cheekily as he makes a suggestion after protesting that he would be no help. ”Didn’t you recently tell me that making medicine and making booze is nearly the same thing? Besides, you are already making good suggestions.” She stores the idea away for later. She’d added only a hint of sweetness, always preferring less sugar in her booze (unlike her desserts), but maybe the drink needed a little bit more. He might be right, that the mint would balance out nicely with the sugar. "Oh, and your lips will definitely be needed," she says, tone playful but suggestive.
”Fine,” she says, pretending to be offended. ”Because wasting good booze is a capital offense punishable by tickling.” Now that she knows…Weaver just waggles the fingers of her free hand in his direction while taking a sip of the warm cider.
She gives him a shrug. ”You can ask, but I don’t really have an answer. Though I mean, you are slowly but surely winning my brother over. If you can win him to your cause, you can win the town.” Korbin was a town favorite, even more than Weaver. While Weaver was out hunting or drinking in the bar with the men, Korbin was in the market, sweet talking all the ladies, exchanging stories with the merchants, and playing songs with the musicians. Also he was a right and stubborn ass, and if Loren could break through that wall, he’d be just fine.
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
Laughing outright, Loren grinned. "Would you like me to stop?" He winked at Weaver, words entirely playful.
However, he sighed at her question. "I don't know. That I'm an irredeemable mess, probably?" He shook his head. "The number of people, and beings, who think I only make poor life decisions and who wouldn't mind at all if I just disappeared is honestly staggering." However, he gave her a chagrined look, knowing full well how much he was whining about that.
For a moment after they broke off the kiss, he studied her features, a question lurking in his eyes. Then the conversation moved on, and he let the moment pass, though not without a twinge of regret. "Yeah but that was when I thought you were going to be doing extra work, not when I thought I might have to." He smirked at her unapologetically.
"Maybe hold off on the compliments until you've actually tested out my theory." Spreading his arms invitingly, he leaned forward just a hair. "Just tell me where you want them." He matched her tone, taking a sip from his cider as he met her gaze squarely.
Narrowing his eyes in more mock annoyance, he pointed an accusatory finger at her. "Rude." He sniffed overly dramatically. "Good luck getting more scones if you tickle me." However, amusement danced in his eyes.
"Gods help me. Though I think I've already hit my quota on divine intervention for the season." He grinned. "Guess I just have to rely on my winning personality." Tone entirely self-deprecating, he just took another long drink of the cider.
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
”No, not particularly,” she says, with an air of fake preening. ”I rather like being complimented.” What girl doesn’t? For that matter, what boy doesn’t? Not that she really needs it, her ego is large enough as it is.
He goes on to explain his relationship with others. It really has not gone well for him, and she wonders if he was that bad before she’d met him, or if people simply couldn’t look beneath the surface. Maybe a bit of both. ”A mess, maybe,” she purrs, reaching out to run her fingers through his hair on the side of his head, pulling gently at a blonde lock between two fingers. ”But certainly not irredeemable.” She drops her hand, bringing it back to her side. ”Their loss, and our gain.” Our being Halo, or perhaps, she simply means ‘my’ gain.
She chuckles at that. ”All you have to do is sit there and taste things and give me your thoughts. If you call that work, then I fear for all your patients.” Her grin grows though as he spreads arms, and she cannot help herself. ”It would be a far shorter list to tell you where I do not want them, if I am being honest.” She leans forward, pointing at her forehead. ”Though you could simply start there…” she trails off, leaving the suggestion not quite finished, though her fingers slips down her face to her lips for a moment.
She shrugs at his finger, looking casually pleased. ”I have been called far worse.” Rude is hardly an insult at all. ”Somehow, I suspect I can weasel my way into more scones,” she says, giving him a playful smirk. She was a rude girl indeed, one not particularly used to the word ‘no’.
”Ah yes, that winning personality of yours. How has that been working out for you lately?” she teases, though clearly, she didn’t seem to mind it.
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
"Good." Loren's eyes swept over Weaver's body quickly, before flicking back up to meet her gaze. "Because there's a lot I'd like to compliment you for." There was an easy grin on his lips, and he winked at her.
As her fingers tangled in his hair, he raised his eyebrows. "I know, I know, I need a haircut." Still, he found his own fingers reaching out. Finding the end of her braid, he played with it idly. "I'm glad you think so. And I agree." He let out a huff of laughter, releasing her hair soon after she let go of his. "My gain too."
Pouting slightly, albeit in an amusing and overly dramatic way, he nodded. "So much work. You'll have to make it worth my while." Then he smirked. "Besides, if I have to deal with difficult patients, you have to deal with difficult tasters." He narrowed his eyes playfully at her.
As she continued speaking, moving past suggestive straight into scandalous (not that he minded obviously), he swallowed again. Leaning forward to meet her, he kissed her forehead gently. "There? Her nose. "There?" Her cheek. "There?" Finally, her lips, though it was as feather light and chaste as before. This time, when he pulled back, he said nothing, just stared directly into her eyes. They were still close, his lips hovering just over hers.
"Somehow I suspect you can as well." He sighed, the sound long-suffering, though the way his eyes crinkled in amusement showed he was just joking. "But I'm not going to make it easy for you." Waggled a finger, he grinned.
Taking another sip of the cider, he shrugged. "Let's just say it's a good thing I'm useful to have around, because I sure ain't pretty or charming." Obviously he was being self-deprecating, though there was a kernel of truth to the words.
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
”Like what?” she asks, her voice and the look in her eyes greedy and pleased. ”Though be more clever than just calling me pretty,” she adds, teasing, though there’s a bit of truth there as well. She is pretty. There’s not really much of an argument there. She knows it, others know it, even if only objectively. And though she likes being pretty, she’d rather be complimented for more than just that. She’d rather be more than just a pretty face.
She shrugs at his mention of needing a haircut. ’Maybe,” she murmurs, ”though it’s just more to play with for now.” He was admittedly not the most well kempt (not that she’s judging that, given that neither is she). A haircut and a shave might go a long way in the looks department, but clearly she wasn’t all that concerned.
She pokes at his pouting lip, giving him a grin instead. ”I make it worth your while, clearly.” The haughty tone in her voice is entirely fake, but she tries to keep a straight face. ”Never mind the free booze. Which is still way better than medicine, thank you very much.” Hardly a fair comparison, if you ask her.
She is very good at scandalous, or at least, talking like it. She was very good at talking a much bigger game than she actually lived, but no one needs to know that. Besides, it is true. He kisses her forehead, her nose, her cheek, and finally her lips. A light peck, though he doesn’t pull away far and she closes the distance again, kissing him for real. Deep and slow, her free hand snaking up to his neck. ”Mmm, there,” she mutters from the side of her mouth.
She chuckles at his sigh though, looking smug at her clear win. ”Life would be terribly boring if it were too easy.”
Weaver takes another sip as well, savoring the warmth of the mulled cider as it slips down her throat. Her amber eyes are appraising, looking at him. ”You can be both pretty and charming, though they are not your default. Still, clearly you are doing something right.” After all, she’s here, isn’t she? Korbin had found a friend, even if he would never admit it. And he seemed to have imprinted himself into the DNA of Halo far better than the rest of his family.
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
"I mean, that's a given." Smirking, Loren hummed thoughtfully. "Well let's see. You're smart, competent, kind, but in a firm way, you're not afraid to speak your mind, and you don't take shit from anyone. And, as we've already covered, pretty." He raised his eyebrow as if to ask Weaver how he was doing.
Letting out a huff of laughter, he narrowed his eyes. "Is that what we're calling it?" This time, he deliberately ran a hand through his hair to leave it messed up.
As she poked him, he nipped the air near her finger, though didn't even come close to actually biting her. When she critiqued his medicines once again, he placed his hand over his heart. "You wound me. Now you're going to need a lot of free booze, and I'm going to need a lot of you, to make it worth my while."
Kissing her properly this time, he raised one hand to cup the back of her head. He made an approving sound in the back of his throat. Pulling away just slightly, he grinned. "Oh, here?" With that, he kissed her again. This time, he opened his lips, inviting her to explore.
"Well we wouldn't want that." Giving her an amused and challenging look, he took a long drink from his cider, finishing it. "I know, but don't tell anyone. I've got a reputation to uphold." Winking, he dropped his voice to a whisper. "Oh yeah? And what's that?" He hopped off the counter he was seated on, moving towards her. Placing his hands on either side of her, he grinned up at her.
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
He begins to list some of her better qualities, and not the ones she jokingly calls her better qualities. Though she wears a smile of fake preening, there is something genuine in there. Not simply because someone is singing her praises (though that helps), but more because he is the one doing it. ”I do sound kind of wonderful, don’t I?” This, at least, is purely teasing. She has a pretty big ego, but it’s not out of control at least. ”And maybe just a little difficult.” That is true.
She chuckles as he messes up his hair on purpose, and honestly, she doesn’t mind the look on him. The secret really is just to own whatever look you want to own, and it often works out. ”Would you prefer I tell you you look like a hot mess?” she asks, reaching out just to ruffle his hair a little more, not that it really needs the help.
”In what world would I ever actually charge you for a drink anyway?” she says, a bit more seriously. She can’t quite imagine asking him for anything just for a drink, when he gave so much so freely. Including helping her brother and giving him a job. ”As for a lot of me, well...if I keep insulting your medicine will you continue to up the charge? Because I don’t really mind.”
As he kisses her, a soft sigh of contentment escapes her, and as he opens his mouth, she lets her tongue slip in to meet his own. He tastes of cider and desire, and it feels like taking a breath of beautiful, crisp, clean air. Her fingers slip into his hair at the base of his neck, tangling in the slightly too-long locks. No, she really doesn’t mind.
He hops down from the counter to come stand before her, and she spreads her legs to make space for him, though there is nothing suggestive about that particular gesture. It is merely to let him come closer so she can reach her arms up and drape them over his shoulders. ”You will likely ruin any reputation by hanging out so much with me,” she teases, though perhaps that would actually work the other way around. Oh, what would her brother say? Ah well, good thing Weaver never has cared much for the opinions of others.
”You are kind,” she says, leaning forward to nip at his earlobe, voice soft. ”You are funny,” she says, placing a kiss beneath his ear. ”You are dedicated,” Another kiss, lower on his neck. ”And determined.” A kiss on his collarbone. She looks back up, resting her forehead to his. ”You care with everything you are.”
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
"You are kind of wonderful." It came out simply, without anything flirtatious or suggestive, just a sort of honest and earnest sincerity. Still, Loren flushed and glanced away from Weaver for a brief moment. However, he grinned and looked back at her next comment. "Good thing I rise to the occasion."
Letting out a huff of laughter, he nodded. "At least that's better than a straight up mess, right?" He winked playfully at her.
Shrugging, he hummed thoughtfully for a bit. Then he smiled slowed and wickedly. "I can think of a few things." However, his expression indicated that he was in no way going to reveal what they were. Then he laughed full out and nodded again. "Oh yeah, absolutely. I might even have to charge double." He licked his lips almost in anticipation. In general, he looked quite pleased at the prospect.
Allowing her tongue to explore his mouth, he let his own dart forward as well. She tasted of cider too, of course, but also the wild, chill, and free winds that swept across the land and carried the scent of snow even on the warmest days. His hands came up to cup her cheeks gently and tenderly.
As she shifted, he eagerly moved into the space she provided for him. Although her arms draped across his shoulders, his own simply rested on either side of her, trapping her a bit. Smirking, he tilted his head slightly to one side. "I did say I would get a reputation for corrupting nice Halovian girls, didn't I?" Tone amused, he was clearly inviting her in on the joke and just as clearly didn't care what people thought.
Her lips began brushing against his skin and he shivered a bit at the sensation. Smiling at her words and her gestures, he leaned his forehead against hers as well, staring directly into her eyes. "I do sound kind of wonderful, don't I?" He kissed her lips again, softly. Pulling away slightly, his lips twitched. "Thanks for saying all that. And for being endlessly patient with me."
So precious is this life, this gift, this temporary blindness.
The way he flushes is adorable, the way he turns away. It’s so unlike something she would ever do, and maybe that’s why she likes it so much. It’s so very honest and open. Not that she is not, but she always finds a joke to hide behind, or she wears confidence even when she does not feel it. ”You do seem to deal very well with me,” she agrees, because it was true.
She chuckles at that. ”Well I would think so. It at least included the word hot,” she says, a little purr in her voice at that, a little teasing, though not overly so.
She raises an eyebrow, giving him a look as he leaves that tidbit dangling in the air without any indication he’d tell her what. She doesn’t even have guesses, which is strange, given that she’s the one charging (or not) for the drink, which makes her all the more curious. ”Are you going to leave a girl hanging like that?” Her lower lip juts out slightly, and she tries to put on her best puppy dog face, though it’s somewhat marred by the smirk underneath. Still, at the next quip she grins. ”I can handle double,” she says, sliding just a bit closer to him.
His hand on her cheek is a gentle, soft thing. Her fingers continue to play with his hair, her mouth on his, yielding and demanding in turn. There is no rush behind it, but there is something hungry in her kiss, a starving woman finally given a proper meal.
Her hands twine behind his back, one thumb running lazily over the muscles there. He is not particularly muscular, and she finds bone as easily as muscle, though he is strong nonetheless, in his own way. ”Well, I admit I am happy to help you with that reputation.” Perhaps she would be the whole reason, or perhaps not, though the idea of the former is not necessarily frightening. No, rather, she’s simply willing to see what happens. ”Though if my brother tries to stab you, which I suspect he will, I apologize in advance.” Her tone is teasing, though the statement is very true. She cannot imagine the fights that might ensue if this does go somewhere.
”You are kind of wonderful,” she says, eyes on his, a smile on her face and honesty in her voice. He kisses her again softly, and she melts into it slightly, one hand coming to cup the side of his neck. ”I wouldn’t say it if it were not true. And I think you are worth being endlessly patient for.” Unlike him, she doesn’t turn away. She doesn’t blush. She just stays there, her thumb brushing lightly over his ear, her forehead against his.
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
