#wink. for those that mayhaps recognize that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darlingpetao3 · 4 years

Text

One of Those Faces (H.R. Wells x Reader x Harry Wells, Part 2)

Rating: G

Summary: As a barista at Jitters, an accident leads you to meet the charming and energetic H.R. But some time later, he returns as a massive standoffish grump. It’s as if he’s two different people…

A/N: Here is the second part to @hwells-ho-train & my collaboration we started a while back! I wonder what will happen next...

Tag List: @fandomdancer @bluesclues-1234 @pinkdiamond1016

PART 1

It’s been a week since your first run in with the mercurial HR Wells and you’re no closer to figuring him out than you were before. For example, not two hours after he popped by before you opened, HR dropped by again. Only this time, the grim demeanor was nowhere to be found, just his bright, toothy grin that greeted you like so much sunshine. Feeling a little skittish after your earlier encounter, you didn’t immediately acknowledge him.

Leaning against your counter, he doffed his hat like a real gentleman, his smile fixed firmly in place.

“Has anyone seen (Y/N), fairest barista in all of Central City, possibly the world?”

He made a production of looking around, scanning for you and you couldn’t stop the shy smile at his antics.

“Has a beautiful smile,” he cooed. “I’ve come to inquire after her hand.”

You can feel the heat blooming across your face, so you attempt to play it off. “I’m afraid, good sir, that you’ll have to speak with my father if you wish to ask for my hand.”

Judging by the look of surprise and delight he’s gifting you right now, your playfulness has definitely paid off.

HR claps. “Touché, milady, touché! I’m happy to see your little mochaccino mishap hasn’t left you with any lasting scars.” His bright look melts into something a bit… warmer, as he reaches forward to take your hand in his. “While marriage might not be on the table yet, mayhap dinner and a stroll through the park tomorrow night?”

Though his words are bold, hope is clearly shining in his eyes and you’re left wondering if he really believes there’s a chance you might not say yes.

“I get off at eight.” You strive for casual nonchalance, but the warmth from his massive hand holding yours makes you feel a bit giddy.

“That sounds promising.” HR’s brows give a suggestive wiggle and he winks at you.

Your breathy giggle escapes before you know it, making you feel like the worst kind of ditz, but HR gives your hand a reassuring squeeze and promises to meet you at nine.

——————

“Ugh!” You twist left and right, popping your tired back. “What a day.”

Rene, the night-shift manager had called off, leaving you to stay and take the shift yourself. Normally, this would’ve been super irritating, but since Rene had offered to cover your closing shift tomorrow, freeing you up for your date with HR, you weren’t too upset about it. So with that happy thought in mind, you finished closing up shop.

You’d grabbed your jacket and purse and headed towards the door to leave when a shadow outside startled you. It was HR! Grinning at your favorite customer, you unlocked the door. You noted that he was once again bundled up in a black jacket and baseball cap, shoulders hunched and blue eyes darting around furtively.

“Hey, you, back again? Couldn’t wait til tomorrow night?”

He squints at you. “Eh, I was just hoping for a coffee, but you’re closed, I’ll go.”

“No, wait!”

The questions raced through your brain, but you pushed them aside because HR was looking at you expectantly. “A simple coffee is really no trouble.” You held the door open for him, and for a split second, you thought he was going to take you up on your offer.

“Never mind, I really shouldn’t be having caffeine this late anyway.”

And with that, he turned back the way he came and marched off down the sidewalk.

The mental whiplash with this man is real.

Could he be worth it...?

——————

The next day, the day of your date with HR, another weird encounter with a grumpy version of the man leaves you even more mystified. With hopes of trying to perk him up, you bring up your impending date and how much you’re looking forward to it.

“Can you stop pretending as if you know me and just take my order?” he barks at you, looking like he’s just as lost as you. Okay. You are officially thrown off and thinking maybe you’ve agreed to a date with a lunatic. Is the man vitamin deficient?

Whatever. You don’t need this.

You think that maybe you’ll have to make an excuse to break off your date with him. With the way he’s been acting lately, especially with what had happened, he probably wouldn’t even care all that much.

But wouldn’t you know it, a few hours later, HR now in a completely different outfit and hat, returns. How much coffee does this guy need?

“May I please have your most delectable Brazilian Roast?” he asks you at the counter with a charming tip of his hat. You won’t fool me this time, Mister.

“Yeah, coming up,” you say in the most aloof response you’ve probably ever uttered. At this, HR is clearly totally bewildered. Not so nice when the shoe is on the other foot, is it?

“I can’t wait for our lovely evening promenade, tonight,” he offers, as a form of trying to keep the conversation alive. You know the feeling all too well, especially recently.

“About that… I think I have to cancel.”

“Why on this beautiful Earth do you think such a thing?”

“Honestly? I’m not so keen when a guy snaps at me mere hours ago about being a stranger to him and to ‘just take his order.’”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, who would say such a thing to the kindest barista I’ve met in my lifetime? Shall I track him down?”

You stare at HR, dumbfounded.

“It was you, HR. Don’t tell me you don’t remember? Do you have a Jekyll and Hyde thing going on? Or an evil twin?”

And then his widen in what you’re assuming is understanding.

“Holy sassafras!” he shouts, causing several heads to turn in his direction. He points at you. “Don’t go anywhere. I suppose you wouldn’t since you’re working, but still! I promise I will explain everything. I’ll be right back, fairest (Y/N)!”

But by the time HR returns, things have started to die down after the three o’clock rush. You have conveniently taken your break when he strides in with whomever he has in his tight grasp. This stranger is loud and adamantly refusing to come inside.

Wait, why does that voice sound so familiar…?

HR shoves his prisoner towards you. The man in all black stumbles forward. It’s only when he stands up straight, and adjusts his black cap that you recognize his face. It’s… HR’s face?

“(Y/N), meet Harry. Harry, (Y/N).”

This Harry man frowns at you.

And you cross your arms.

The showdown begins.

#reader insert #hr wells x reader #hr wells imagine #harry wells x reader #harry wells imagine #harrison wells x reader #harrison wells imagine #harrison wells fanfiction #the flash imagine #the flash fanfiction

119 notes · View notes

winterfellslady · 7 years

Photo

billow and breeze (all that was me is gone) | part iv

Pairing: Sansa Stark/Dickon Tarly Summary: Pirate!AU. A change of scenary, a fight, a kiss. { part i | part ii | part iii }

Sansa sighed in relief as her foot set down on solid ground again--well, almost solid ground. The wet sand still shifted beneath her shoes as she climbed out of the small boat. Dickon walked along ahead of her, haloed in the dark by the yellow-orange glow of the settlement up ahead. She didn’t know what to expect of the pirate port, though she assumed she would see very little of it. Although the captain had decided, for her safety, to bring her ashore, she was still going to be kept under close guard. The captain had been quite adamant on that fact.

If you think my crew is dangerous, he drawled, you would faint at the mere whisper of what the other crews who dock here are capable of. Which is why Dickon will be by your side, day and night.

Sansa hadn’t been able keep staring at his smirk after that. She focused on her folded hands instead, and how hard her fingers were pressing into her knuckles. Thank the gods they had left soon after that. She wasn’t sure if the tightness in her chest was because she was about to faint right then and there…or if there was a little more wolf in her than she thought, and she was about the bare her teeth at the disgraced former kingsguard.

I know keepin’ a closer eye on her will be quite a hardship, lad, Bronn had murmured dryly to Dickon under his breath as they were leaving the captain. Sansa hadn’t heard Dickon’s response--just the sharp tone of his deep voice--but whatever it was, it had made the quartermaster chuckle and raise his hands before walking away.

Since last night, though, Dickon hadn’t said a word to her. Not even when helping her out of the boat just now, and as soon as she was down, he had dropped her hand immediately. Now, she just stared at his broad back as she followed him up the beach. She supposed what he did for her could have put him in a bad spot with the crew, but she couldn’t believe he would take that out on her. He didn’t have to kill those two men, but he had, to protect her. And Sansa had to believe he didn’t regret it.

The ground beneath her feet turned from sand to dirt, the dunes gave way to low, twisting trees barely covered in leaves, and soon they were walking along a short, narrow path that cut through to the town border. Dickon seemed to hesitate before they crossed the boundary. He finally glanced down at her, lips pursed. After blowing out a long breath, he muttered, “Stay close to me.”

She didn’t have a chance to even nod before he set forth. Stumbling after him, she stayed right at his back as he led them through the streets of the town. The cool night air nipped at her, and Sansa pulled her cloak tighter. She kept her eyes on Dickon’s heels, afraid that if she looked away, she would be left behind. They kept to side streets and alleys, but even so, the sound of raucous, drunken shouts grew louder and louder. As they turned to pass by a particularly bright square, temptation won out. She finally snuck a peek at the infamous port and promptly stopped in her tracks.

Pirates, everywhere. Clustering at tables outside taverns, leaning over balconies, drinking and gambling and singing and kissing and--more, at which she immediately looked away with a blush. It didn’t help much, given that anywhere she looked, some scene of debauchery was waiting for her. So distracted, she nearly screamed when someone grabbed her arm roughly.

It was merely Dickon, though he looked mad enough to spit. “Put your hood back up,” he demanded.

Before Sansa could blink, he had done it for her, and then they were off again. A sliver of irritation arose in her at his shortness, and so she lagged behind a bit. The more she made their pace slow, the more often Dickon glanced back at her in frustration. That only made her tip her chin higher, her jaw jutting out the way it used to when Old Nan had scolded her for this thing or that thing.

Finally, he spun around to face her. “If your plan is to have another crew spot you and steal you away,” Dickon accused in a raised voice, “you’re off to a great start. Though the captain was right when he said you should fear the others much more than you fear us.”

“Mayhaps I will take my chances with them,” she shot back, just because she hated that imperious tone he was taking. She had no doubt she would be dead--or worse--if another crew took her.

“With you flashing that hair around, that might just come to pass,” he said angrily as his gaze fell on the braid that had slipped out of her cloak.

Sansa immediately traced her fingers over it, a flash of apprehension seizing her. “I didn’t mean to--”

“I know, and I don’t think anyone saw back there.” Dickon sighed heavily, then scrubbed a hand over his face. “And I didn’t mean to yell at you. It’s just…”

“You have a job to do.”

“I have to keep you safe,” he murmured at the same time.

Sansa paused and stared at him, trying to puzzle out why those words had made her pulse jump. He looked right back at her, gaze unflinching, so captivating that she forgot where they were and why. There was just Dickon, who even with his reticence and hard edges had somehow, gods be good, become her anchor in all of this.

The crack of a loud laugh split through the night, and it startled them both out of their daze. Hand resting on the dagger at his waist, Dickon turned back around. He waited until she was at his side before walking ahead, however, and he did so at a manageable pace. Sansa kept her breath while they walked this time, though for some reason, Dickon seemed tenser. He kept his hand on his dagger, his fingers tightening more and more on the hilt the further they moved into the heart of the port. Sansa kept glancing around with shifting eyes, trying to detect the danger he seemed to sense. Nothing and everything jumped out at her, because even with the bright winking of lights from windows and door cracks, the shadows seemed to lengthen around the two of them. She was about to voice her concern when Dickon moved suddenly.

A push, a jerk, a whirl, and then Sansa was between him and an alley wall. He pressed her into the rough wood, her palms in danger of catching splinters as she braced them behind her. She could only see the hollow of his throat in her line of sight, as his broad arms bracketed her upper body as he leaned on his forearms against the wall. Dickon breathed deeply, his exhales warm against her forehead. She, however, could only breathe quickly, shallowly, wondering what exactly he was hiding them from. As she began to hear voices on the street from the direction they had come from, she began to turn her head. Dickon moved his head too, his mouth landing at the corner of hers. Heart stuttering, Sansa’s breath hitched as he used the moment to nudge her so that her gaze pointed straight once more--this time straight at him.

“Don’t,” he murmured, his lips almost brushing hers. “They’ll notice us if you look.”

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know, but they were following us for a block or so,” he muttered.

Sansa swallowed tightly, wondering if someone had recognized her in that moment she had let her hood--and her guard--drop. “I’m sorry--”

“It may just be a jump crew, looking to steal some coin,” he answered. “Best not to jump to conclusions.”

As she stared at Dickon, trying to hide her fear from her eyes, a clattering of footsteps from the street startled her. Immediately, he pressed even closer, every line of his against every line of hers. His large hands came to frame her face, thumbs resting on her temples. A shout from the street sounded, then Dickon muttered something under his breath, breathed in, and then his mouth was on hers.

Sansa’s hands immediately clutched at his chest--to push him away, or pull him closer, she didn’t know. He stroked her cheeks calmly, soothingly, then pulled a breathe away to whisper, “They saw us. Play along,” he whispered. “It’ll hide you.”

He went to kiss her again, but there was hesitation there, as if he were waiting for her agreement. Sansa did not even think twice before lifting her mouth to his. His lips were rough but cool, a soothing balm compared to the hot flush rising in her cheeks. As her fingers tightened in his tunic, his arm--the one farther from the street--moved down until it wrapped around her lower back. Dickon bent her into him, one leg slipping in between hers. Her mouth opened in astonishment--not because she was affronted, but because the kindling in her gut sparked into a real flame--and he followed suit. She was kissing him in earnest now, his scent of sea and sweat surrounding her, his touch settling her ablaze.

A crass whistle broke the daze. She pulled back immediately, but then Dickon’s hand at the back of her head pushed her face against his chest. A sweet tableau of a lover’s embrace, it would seem to a casual observer, Sansa realized. She buried her face further into his chest, hoping the trick to keep her hidden would work.

“Couldna afford a room?” A nasally male voice called out. “Or dinna wanna?”

“None of your fuckin’ business,” Dickon growled.

Footsteps drew closer, and Sansa squeezed her eyes shut. Dickon’s hand was warm and steady against her back, his thumb twitching back and forth--either in comfort, or anticipation, maybe even both.

“Ya look like ya could,” another, more gravelly voice countered. “Mayhaps we’ll finna out.”

A sharp shift in Dickon’s posture and two jerks of his body was followed by two shouts of indignation.

“Ya missed us,” the second voice growled.

Dickon shifted again. “I won’t the second time. Now leave, or you’ll wish you had.”

A half-dozen curses poured from them, but slowly, the footsteps retreated. Sansa sagged against Dickon when silence had prevailed for more than a hundred breaths. Slowly, he pulled away and looked down at her. His expression was serious, concerned, but unreadable beyond that.

“All right?” He asked quietly as he sheathed the throwing knife he had been holding back into his belt.

She could only nod. His gaze darted away from her face, but his hand stayed on her back. Her fingers relaxed, so her palms were flat against his chest. As she parted her lips to say something (though she didn’t know what), he straightened and stepped back, eyes shuttering.

“We should be on our way,” he said. He walked to the alley entrance, retrieving the two knives he had thrown at their pursuers along the way. After peering out in both directions, he motioned her forward as the street was apparently clear.

They continued their walk to their lodgings without saying another word. She was so exhausted, in more ways than one, that she did not even bother to take note of the path they took to the small tavern at the northern edge of the port. It would have been smart for her to do so, in case she wanted to escape later, but she couldn’t muster up the strength. After speaking with the owner (who seemed to know him, and who ignored her), Dickon led her to her room, his only goodbye a silent nod before closing the door. Sansa laid down on the bed, not bothering to get under the tattered blanket. Thin and moth-eaten as it was, it would do her no good, just as thinking of what happened this night with Dickon would do her no good either.

Even so, as she closed her eyes, she remembered what he felt like, kissing her, up against her. It was to that memory that Sansa fell asleep. And, for the first time in a while, she slept soundly.

#sansa x dickon #dickon x sansa #dicksa #dicksa fanfiction #dickon x sansa fanfiction #billows and breeze (all that was me is gone)#my fanfiction

24 notes · View notes

hex-and-fable · 5 years

Text

Of Matter: Purpose. Pt: 2

[A guild wars 2 RP] A: “Dinner?” The Lord mused beneath a breath as he welcomed his counterpart at his side upon their exit of his command room. “Now, why haven’t I thought of that?” Laden within his voice was that ever growing sarcasm he was prone to exude, most certain she’d afford him one of her looks which would prompt him to rest his hand along the small of their back as they walked. The corridors were lined with windows which stretched from floor to ceiling on either side, their blinds a thick crimson speckled with embroidered golden leafs. This was to ensure all sides of the courtyards were visible. To their left the guards and soldiers continued their training whereas to the right the lush green gardens were in full sight and bloom. Some of the panes were left open allowing the breeze from the East to trickle in, with it was the scent of lavender and honeysuckle coupled with the faint tinge of water from the fountains littering about the vast orchard. If he truly had it his way he would have guided her behind one of those massive curtains and done away with her clothing and taken her there---a penchant that had yet to leave him but he was certain that she was of the notion that there was a time and place for everything.

Among the corridors was not one of them—not at present. This, of course, was entirely conductive of the fact that he felt a weight lift from his shoulders, a crack to be filled with an unceremonious bout of contentment he had yet to feel in quite some time let alone been driven with the desire to express it. -(edited)Their meander lead them down the winding staircase leading toward the third floor only to be drawn to another series of steps leading down to the back entry of the kitchens. There the smell of fresh fruits filled the air, stock and minced meats accompanied the scent as the workers were hard in perfecting their craft. The habitual heat lofting from the kitchen hearths heralded a night’s meal for all those inhabiting the Estate.

They were fortunate they were all able to eat and eat well. Several of the workers bowed their head in greeting---Argrin ruled not by an iron fist. Many smiled warmly toward the ‘Lady’ of the house though it was certain she was rarely addressed as such. She was always so well received. “Maevis.” Argrin halted before the head cook---a stalky man with a belly proving testament to his cooking. The white apron swathed about his frame was blotted with stains from a day’s hard work and when he turned to address the pair he continued the tradition by cleaning his hands at its hem.

“’The little Lady?” The elder man intoned, offering a peer about the kitchen as if half expecting her to pop up from behind the sacks of grain and flower. “Can’t say I’ve seen her since lunch. Not supposed to tell ya but she snuck some almond danishes with her.” He offered a wink toward Sigrid in particular. S: She did, indeed, proffer one of her fixed expressions with the solitary brow lofting ever-higher in silent exacerbation. It was a routine that never tired, much akin to a ritual. It was choreographed, measured, and yet despite how predictable, the reaction was always expected welcomingly. With a ‘hmph’, she held her scarred chin aloft as she passed, though her gait was truncated as to humor her lord’s hand purchase whilst they traversed the stretch of the manor. The days had grown longer with the encroachment of a dry Summer, though the heat had yet become unbearable.

They were shored away closer along the bend of the Shiverpeaks and while their Winters were less forgiving, they were manageable, but that also meant accessibility to water and more temperate weather. Sigrid had been no friend of the sun considering her condition, though she did not reflect outward disdain. It was jest that her birth during such a demure time of the year was what attributed, but she had a warm soul even if it was wrapped in armor. Armor that her better half saw fit to peel away and toss to the floor, but much to his – though to his credit, mild - chagrin, he would not have the chance to do so behind that familiar corner this evening.

As the pair passed on their way down to the kitchens, he might have noticed the corners of her lips twitch to feign from a wry smile, as if to share in a secret.Though their arrival had been overtly acknowledged, it was in moderate passing. It was how they wanted it; station or no, it always felt odd to the pair, or at least the modest ‘Lady’, whenever someone bowed their head in such reverence. However, she was quick to return a small smile of her own or to offer a polite nod. Habitually, she still craned her neck as to veil the disfigured profile of her mien, but there was little use in hiding.

Otherwise, she would have employed the use of a partial mask, and she was not ashamed by her scars even if she retained a bit of vanity whether she cared to recognize it or not. She exchanged looks with the head chef as he turned about to address Argrin and when he smiled toward her in admission, her lids waned, and she sighed heavily. Well, there would be no offerings in the form of sweets that evening, it seemed. Buuuutt… “I never heard it from you, mo chara.” She rejoined coolly, amused. She elevated her gaze to her counterpart, thoughtful. “I suppose we can wait for her to appear, but chances are we might be better off checking her favorite haunts in the mean time?”

A: An idle chuckle bloomed from the depths of his chest at the imagery of their kin wandering about the grand halls of the estate with pastry in both her mouth and hand for if her penchants were true to form she’d have sampled more than one. A thankful nod was offered toward the head chef before drawing his attention back to Sigrid.

“I imagine that’d be out best course of action.” With a passing wave of his hand he bid his adieu to the staff before coaxing them out toward the grand dining area. It was seldom used for its former purpose---what with holding grand balls and events that would better proclaim them a Noble house. Instead it served a more pragmatic purpose as the estates employ normally dined within its splendor far more than other nobles inhabited it.

Still, Argrin kept his hand against his counterpart in some fashion or other lest she desired her space. Even if that where the case he’d respectfully accept her desire and keep his hands firmly pressed behind his back. “Who would have thought she’d avoid us so expertly so soon. I imagine at some point she will find herself finding security outside these walls whenever we find ourselves on the hunt for her.” Keenly he peered about the hall, making point in ensuring no little feet were visible behind the curtains stretching across the grand stain glass windows.

S: Bowing her head to the kitchen staff, she twisted about to follow suit after Argrin and once they had a bit more privacy, she seemed keen to allow him to draw her close once more. She had always been reserved and that part of her most likely would never change even if the years had a bit kinder than her than those previously.

She smiled more often and had been quick to laugh despite the burdens of her former occupation still weighed heavily upon her. She was more likely to address him less formally in private and exchange a gesture of affection here and there, where as she was a bit more withdrawn in public, most likely out of habit to continually present the professional veneer. In the latter decade, however, there were moments where either she had forgotten herself or mayhap decided it was occasionally permittable for him to hold her or afford a kiss to the corner of her lips even while at the tables. In fact, a few of the staff most likely had stolen a glance their way to see them walk side by side with his arm around her before spiriting down the hall and out of sight. In their meanderings, they continued to converse, in no rush.

There were only so many rooms she could hide in, after all. Sigrid yet kept her head on a swivel, peering side long one way and the other occasionally as if to spy the heel of a small shoe from around the corner.“Were she of the mind to worry me into an early grave.” She quipped, though surely, he had meant the courtyard. In fact, they had been nearing it this entire time, but rather than dip out onto the paseo, she seemed keen to look about the corridor. It was not beyond her; Maevis mentioned she enjoyed watching the dancers out on the veranda, even if she was the only one that seemed to be able to see them. Passing by the next window, nearly neglecting it altogether, they catch sight of their raven-haired sprite and sure enough, she had the remaining pastry partly in her mouth while she navigated the lip of the fountain.

She placed one foot over the other, her arms outstretched to either side and elevated past her shoulders. Sigrid’s lips pursed into a thin line, but that wry smile was threatening to crest. Of course. It did not take Maevis long to realize she was being watched and her head snapped up to meet her parents gaze through the panes and her eyes went wide as if she had been caught in the act of doing something she shouldn’t have, but it was a short-lived reaction. She wobbled on one foot before righting her balance and then hopped down to run down the cobbled walkway toward the nearby door, most likely to rendezvous with them. A: The beating sun caught the impression of the little Lady’s raven hair, haloing about in magnificent manner that always seemed to force a smile at the corner of Argrin’s mouth. How he was so blind to the idea that she was his for so long embarrassed him so but it was a subject seldom touched upon for it was the moments in watching his daughter scurry toward him that banished all those awful sentiments.

“You concerns have been my constant companion through these five years.” A wild grin bloomed across his countenance as he had half expected her to slap his shoulder by the back of her hand. It too had grown stronger through the years on account of it. Instead, to ensure no such action was conducted, he curled his arm tightly around her waist and pulled her in, forcing their hips together to the point her body would surely have to melt into his.

The corners of his eyes pinched with humored narrow as his attention followed their ilk till she was no longer in sight. It was then they heard the echo of a door coupled with the hurried footfalls of one particular daughter.

“Kiss me one last time before she arrives and professes her revulsion at our affections.” S: With a hiss, she sucked in a breath, but before she could react, he had promptly pulled her close to which she began to snicker. However, her palm stubbornly smacked his shoulder, albeit cushioned due to his quick thinking to counter.

“Why you…!” She came face to face with him, the amber orbs flickering as she blinked. She read it on his face before he spoke the words, her hands coming to rest on either shoulder when she leaned in with a cant on her head and pressed her lips to his own and eagerly. Had he any doubts fermenting from earlier when they navigated the hallways, they were quickly dashed like water spilling over hot coals.

The desire was there, but in the exchanged she merited a good level of restraint, pulling away only to proffer a chaste peck to his chin before twisting about just as Maevis rounded the corner. Admittingly, they were given a bit more time than they anticipated considering the ragamuffin had paused to stuff the rest of the Danish inconspicuously in her mouth and was now struggling to chew, her cheeks bloated akin to a chipmunk’s. Padding over, Argrin only had a moment to catch her as she leapt up expectantly between them. A: That lingering sensation had Argrin’s mouth drawing agape, even more so when she pulled away to address their kin. The look he was afforded was one of mounting tension, most of it she’d be privy to in the coming evening hours. Before long that nefarious look snapped to one of adoration as the sprite child caught his attention.

“Oi—oph!” With a gentle cough he feigned the idea that she was but a warrior knocking the wind out of him. The corners of his mouth bled into a wide smile, one Sigrid oft saw when they were in company of their daughter. By the hoist of his strong arms he cupped her against his forearms, chest pressed to his before hoisting her against his hip. “What’s this you have in your mouth I wonder?” Argrin’s eyes pinched at their corners as he made point with inspecting her crumb laden face. “Smells of something sweet now doesn’t it, my love?” His attention snapped aside to Sigird.

S: She would come to know it and perhaps she was counting on it, but when Maevis hopped up, shifting in her father’s arms, Sigrid’s wry smile softened though only slightly as the wide-eyed youth stopped chewing and swallowed in some vain attempt to hide what it was she had just devoured. “Mnnnooo…” She feigned, even as Argrin inspected the remnants of pastry all over her palms. Caught red-handed quite literally.

Her gaze dropped, avoiding his gaze. Sigrid adjusted her weight to favor the other leg, bringing her arms to furl over her chest (that and she did not want to admit that her knee was troubling her again). “Then what was it?” The pallor Lady enquired rhetorically. Maevis only continued to shrink away. She had no clever quip or riposte in which to afford either of her parents, but the mood was light enough, she seemed to play it off that she was going along with some unspoken act. “I only had a couple.” She mumbled quietly, but enough for doting father to hear.

Her mother’s lips pursed, if only to keep herself from smiling wider. Sigrid had a strong policy against encouraging dishonesty, even if this one had been mild. Alas, she just might get away with it this time. Drawing closer, the weathered femme clicked her tongue and gently swatted the back of Maevis’ hand in some faux warning before mussing up her hair. “You better finish your dinner tonight, then.” Phew. The relief on the little sprite’s face was short-lived, having started to kick her feet idly.

“Can I go see Adrienne after? We are only gonna play in her room, I promise.” Elevating her gaze, she glanced between them, eyes bright. At this, Sigrid hummed before peering toward her partner, considerate. “…We will see.” She began, watching as Maevis’ expression falter a bit. She was intuitive, seemingly catching on that something was amiss. “Your father and I need to talk with you. But, after, we will revisit that. Alright?” Maevis nodded. A: A sly wink was afforded down to Maevia upon her mild confession. It was as if to say it’d be their secrete when indeed it had been shared among the trio. Her adoration for sweets was certainly a trait within the female half of the Cress family. He wasn’t surprised it was a shared proclivity.

With a soft nudge of his head he nodded toward Sigrid, clearly in agreement with her clause. “We wanted to discuss the matter of your education.” Always the politician. “Iiiif that is---“ His eyes swung from his kin to Sigrid and back again. “---something you’d be interested in. We’ve been here tell of a particular little lady being a tad---“ He paused, searching for a word. “---petulant?” His attention differed back to Sigrid.

“Was I supposed to offer the pony now or after?” He stage whispered toward the pallid knight, grinning ear to ear. When it came to Maevis he strived to always make her laugh even at the expense of receiving one of Sigrid’s famous paint peeling stares.

S: Maevis’ gaze lit up, bouncing her Argrin’s arms. “I am getting a horse?!” She could barely contain herself, but Sigrid swiftly put the kabosh on it. “Ah – ah – ah.” She wagged a finger, that solitary brow lofting habitually high. Her daughter locked eyes with her, two pairs of molten irises; one rounded, the other narrowed. Briefly, her partner was, indeed, afforded one of those infamous, paint-peeling stares.

And just as she expected, his grin only widened. “Your teacher has been telling me you have not been attentive in class lately.” As she began, Maevis became a bit more sullen to which Sigrid elicited a less than plaintive sigh. “But… “ Gradually, the youth perked up, canting her head and shifting her jaw to the side, much like Sigrid’s would when perturbed or invested.

“…As your father suggested, we thought it best that mayhap you might prefer a higher education. A field more specialized that will keep you interested.” Smoothing the wrinkles in her tunic, she canted her head similarly. “That would, however, require you to attend these studies in Divinity’s Reach. You would be away during the week but allowed to visit home a couple of days during.” She did not sugarcoat, transparent as if she was handling one of the disorderlies, but the look on their progeny’s face said it all. She had a big grin mirroring her father’s own. “So I am getting a horse to go there?!”

At this, Sigrid’s eyes waned to a close, but only momentarily. “We… are considering it.” She chose her words carefully. “But on the condition that we attain a favorable report regarding your studies from now on. Alright?” Drawing closer once more, she placed one arm about Argrin’s midriff and the other around their daughter’s shoulders. Her intonation softened and Maevis’ grin impossibly grew wider. “Should we take that as a yes?” A: “---It’s all and well looking forward to something, my dear---however, if we are told you aren’t attentive with your tutors you shan’t see a mane or hove of this horse. This is an important opportunity for you. Not many are gifted with such privileges---especially a young lady of your stature. With these studies come great responsibility, just as it comes with owning one’s own horse.”

Maevis met a rather serious look from her father, one he hoped didn’t quash her excitement. “Show us you’re able to hold onto one thing before reviving another.” The Lord craned his neck forward and offered the faintest of nudges with the tip of his nose against his daughter’s cheek. “The cooks have prepared Shepard’s pie.” He mumbled beneath a breath

“Upon request, that is. If you have little qualm I suspect the three of us might have time to wander the gardens after dinner? Discuss this further? Lest you have anything to add, my lady?” Such was addressing toward Maevis S: As Argrin hardened his expression, Maevis puffed out her chest and folded her arms proudly as she nodded, seemingly attempting to mimic the look on her father's face. “Yup!” She unceremoniously promised. However, the humor was laced with the child's own resolve, especially when his leaned in and nuzzled her. Her nose wrinkled, and she recoiled slightly.

"Your beard itches!" A chortle bubbled within the hearth of Sigrid’s throat, taking the opportunity to bring her brow to rest against her daughter’s own. “We have your word?”

“Yeah …I promise.” Maevis resigned, though genuinely. Sigrid hummed before exchanging looks with her better half. She squinted and gave his beard a playful tug. “A brief walk about would not hurt.” A: “A sentiment both you and your mother share though there was a time I did rid of it. The look set to your mothers face was one laden both with disgust and confusion. I dare say the same fate will befall me if you were to set those pretty eyes on my hairless face.” His attention was caught by the idle tug issued at his beard by Sigrid’s grip.

A soft note hummed from the back of his throat once she had successfully garnered his sights. “It would also disallow her the opportunity to tug at it as she so endearingly loves to do.” The measure of his gaze settled down to her for the stark difference in their height was patent. As the Lord went to open his mouth to offer more of his wise addendums the far off trickling of the bells lodged within their towers surrounding the estate began to toll, heralding the afternoon hour. “Come. I’d like for Maevis to assist the cooks in setting the tables.” Quickly his attention flicked askance to Maevis. “No protests, now.” S: No impish grin was proffered as he glanced askance toward his stoic counterpart, but her eyes gave away the smile that was not reflected upon her mien. Before she could contribute anything, however, the bells began to chime and, beckoned by her father, Maevis nodded before hopping down if Argrin were to let her go, taking off down the hallway. She afforded a pause before following, the corners of her lips twitching.

“Shepherd’s Pie, hm?” Her addendum was hushed. The dish was a hallmark amongst the plainsfolk, hence how it acquired its name. It was a peasant dish, but one well liked especially by the veteran herself considering her background. She had been raised on it, particularly when food was not as plentiful during the winter months and now it was a rare treat.

A: Argrin foresaw his daughters leap and once he felt the shift in her weight had he guided her down to better accompany her fall. Once freed he took those lingering moments of silence to watch her dart down the hallway before Sigrid’s voice drew his attention from the space where Maevis once ran.

“Mm?” A well-practiced smile fitted to his mouth before a hand was brought to massage at the back of his neck in a way which implored minor embarrassment at being caught within a kind gesture. “We haven’t sampled it in quite some time. I was told the lamb had been marinated for a day and that the butter is freshly churned.” He grinned down to her.

“Unless you’d like me to cancel the order and we can dine on mutton and boiled potatoes instead? Those Danishes were meant to be for after dinner but our daughter seemed to have found a way to enjoy them without our company. We shan’t deny her another ‘sample’ either for I wouldn’t want to see her upset on account of her avarice.” He knew he was encouraging it. “Unless there’s another after dinner delight you can think of that might suit your palate, mo grá?” Sigrid would more than likely catch onto the look surfacing within the depths of his bottle green hues.

S: It was not often she saw him act so sheepish, let alone meek, but if anyone had that affect on him, it was none other than her. Any woman would, assumedly, take some pride in this where as she merely found it the utmost endearing. In his youth, he was seen as a boorish brute and played up the part, but she had seen through that guise and the rest was history. She stopped, taking his hand in her own to gently encourage him to do so as well and with the other hand, she gathered the couture of his collar to pull him close. The corners of her eyes crinkled, her lips scantly hovering over his.

“You already know the answer to that.” She intoned with dangerous playfulness, alluding, but rather than proffer a rewarding kiss, she gave him an elusive peck to the corner of his tiers. Were he to protest, she placed a cursory index finger to his mouth and parroted for emphasis: “After dinner, of course.”

A: By the virile groan surfacing from the depths of his chest she knew exactly what string she plucked. The pressure of her finger at his mouth elicited but a soft exhale through his nose, one she’d feel as he attempted to collect himself by banishing the seedy thoughts surfacing from the recesses of his mind. Time and place. This was perhaps not the time but certainly the place.

The firm grip of his fingers against her back notched greedily going as far as to pull her body against his in a way which would remind her just how powerful he truly was. It seemed as if she needed reminding. Nonetheless, the steel fires burning within his gaze lingered onto her for several long, heart pounding moments before he finally released her with a genial clearing of his throat

. “---As a matter of course, Sigrid. After dinner. We wouldn’t want to be spoiling our appetite now would we?” By the offer of his arm he intended to walk alongside her till they reached the dining hall. From where they stood the luscious smell cooked pie filled within the air coupled with the steady scent of ale from the freshly cracked barrels brought in several hours prior. The estate began to stir as its patrons and workers all began to congregate to the main dining hall. It would seem as if they were holding a ball with how many were in attendance. It had become common practice with sharing food among the workers---brought up moral as one particular knight decreed. She was far from incorrect. S: An astonished gasp was expelled, prompting her to place the other hand upon his breast whilst the other tightened its grip upon the linen weave. She knew better than to poke the bear and it took just a simple squeeze about her form to be reminded exactly how strong her counterpart was. Much to his delight, roseate dusted the apples of her cheeks. Reluctantly, they withdrew from one another, she herself clearing her throat in a similarly awkward fashion. As he held his arm out to her, she humored one of her frail smiles and took it, allowing him to lead her toward the banquet hall.

Entering the foray, they were greeted by the bustle of patrons dining at the tables. Maevis was still milling about with plates and napkins, doing her best to prove her word to her parents – at least until Adrienne, whom had just entered adolescence, took them from her and picked Maevis up under the arms to set her on one of the chairs. They were arguing over something completely unrelated, but it did not seem to warrant any concern. It was just the usual hijinks, as far as anyone was concerned.Sigrid hesitated at the precipice. Before, she had been reluctant to step foot into the dining area after the encouraged mandate for she had been fairly new to the role. Previously, Argrin had to sweep her off her feet and carry her over while she fussed, much to the amusement of everyone else at her expense.

She had since grown accustom, but there were days she hung back to watch for a time before joining in herself. With some prodding, however, gait slowed, she let him guide her further in to find a seat and serve themselves and most likely near their daughter to ensure she ate everything on her plate. The menagerie of conversation, selectively, was lost on her though she occasionally caught a few tidbits here and there were she to focus. However, she did not engage ‘lest someone approached her with enquiry or if she felt it necessary to interject. Inwardly, it was comfortingly nostalgic of a military mess hall without the necessity of rushing through a meal. Partway through dinner, their daughter came bounding up to them and tugged on Argrin’s sleeve. “Can I go with Adrienne now? I finished!”

A: Once seated it didn’t take long for someone to pour the head of House his first stein of ale for the evening. He was, however, astute enough to know that when among his daughter his intake would be less than normal for he wanted to instill the best impression for her. That, and he could already feel the lingering stare of his counterpart at his nape.

The food was bountiful, the drinks remained poured, and Argrin, as he had many a night prior, ate his fill. He was not the sort of delve into a plate or two---oh, no, when his daughter approached and tugged at his sleeve he was on his fifth serving and seemed to be nowhere close to stopping. How he managed to keep the shape he had was beyond those who worked with him. It’d be his counterpart who knew he arose with the sun every morning to make his rounds about the estate, lift the heavy sacs of grain within the stables in order to keep himself fit.

Blinking down to his kin he raised a fist and connected it with his chest upon swallow. “Mmph?” He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and turned within his seat to better address Maevis. “Everything?” Peering up he intended to find her plate as if feigning his curiosity. He knew well enough that she had. “Mm! Well---“ He paused again, leaning forward to rest his forearms against his thighs. “I don’t see why not. Do be back for your curfew, understood?” S: Sigrid ate well, but all she needed was a single plate. She was a very active individual, but her appetite was not as elaborate as her counterpart’s. She did not have the muscle mass to match his own, naturally, and he required more nutriment as a result. As usual, she abstained from alcohol, content with water in her cup instead and when Argrin gave Maevis his blessing, she afforded a curt nod in affirmation even if neither of it had seen it.

“’Kay!” She rejoined with a flourish of her hand, connecting it to her brow similarly to how she had seen her father lazily salute others before taking off. They pair watched as she met the older child at the stairs before they ascended, skipping every other step.

“I wonder whom she learned that from?” Sigrid mused, taking another sip of her drink. A: Hardly a rarity was it when he displayed his affections toward his daughter and it was in those moments when she took after him that he felt his most prideful. It manifested itself by the wide smile touching so keenly that it kissed his eyes, forcing the hidden wrinkles there to show. Only when the pair had left did he turn back within his seat and take up his fork again only to shovel several mouthfuls of potatoes into his mouth.

“No idea.” He began lowly, sparing her a cursory glance aside as he polished off his plate. It didn’t take long for him to swallow or pick up his cup to wash down the rest. With a satisfied sigh he leaned back within his seat and gave his belly a content pat.

“Though I’m certain whomever she learned that from is one charming individual with a sharp silver tongue.” A rather boisterous conversation from the other end of the table ended elevating the volume of the room for they erupted in sudden laughter, so much so the table rattled as several of the men and women pounded their fists against the surface of their space out of the humor. It bothered him none.

S: The tine of her incisor dimpled the lower corner of her mouth, silencing herself with the last bite of her meal. To many, it was a meager dish, but to her it was refreshing. She could eat and eat until she could stomach no more and still she would not tire of the taste. It reminded her of home… But this was her home now. For better or for worse, but so far, despite the obstacles that met them, tore them apart and brought them closer together, she was inclined to say the former. And she would change nothing.

Reclining into the manchette of her seat, her hand searched for his own under the view of the table and once procured, she squeezed it. “Very charming. And noble.” She rejoined confidently. Then her nose crinkled, the telltale laugh lines accentuating as she followed up with a sarcasm: “On a good day.” With one more squeeze, she withdrew, draining the last of the water in her cup. The table shook as she reached to set it down, having to quickly right it to keep it from tipping as hearty guffaws complimented the evening’s festivities.

It was contagious, she had to admit. It was good to see them in high spirits considering they would have to deploy early on the ‘morrow, but for one more night they could pretend they would not have to. “They love you. I know you did not want this… but can not think of anyone better, mo cuisle.” A: It was no surprise that when she reached beneath his table to squeeze his palm was already upturned, awaiting the impression of her fingers before his very own closed to successful dwarf over hers. At her words his chest rose with a firm intake of breath only to be held before it slowly passed through the passage of his nose.

“There are times, I admit, in wanting to pack whatever it is we can and leave this place.” His voice was low enough for only her to hear as he made point in teetering to the side to murmur against her ear. “Take you and Maevis away and live out the rest of our years wherever you wanted to settle. I would be without complaint. I’d be happier to oblige in whatever it is you wanted, alas---“ It was in homage to their humble beginnings, a sentiment he was all too familiar with regarding their penchant for upholding oaths.

There’s was deep and laden with heavy obligation. When and if she meant to move her hand he squeezed all the more, holding her there to ensure she was well within the space for him to continue murmuring against the shell of her ear.

“—We are here and I could not be more fortunate to have you and our daughter among these halls for if you weren’t I fear they’d grow as hollow as I would without you present.” She’d feel the press of his forehead at her temple before finally easing back to rights. Public displays were never their forte and in the rare moments they were caught or chose to expel it they were met with encouraging ‘woops’ or disgusted ‘blehs’ from one particular child.

“Besides---you’re the one they admire the most. Thomas is a close second.” S: She hummed a thought, sighing lightly from her nostrils as she hooked an arm to cup the contour of her scarred chin. Her addendum was matter-of-fact, if not just a tad bitter: “Yes, well… the outward veneer of a young shepherdess attaining knighthood is romantically appealing to many, but that is because ‘tis all they see.”

Her locution was somber, melancholy at that. “In retrospect, they know little about me and ‘tis for that reason that mayhap I have the appeal. But I would not sell yourself so short.” With an inclination of her chin toward the melting pot of house patricians and vassals, she made an indicative gesture with the other hand, even if a tad mechanical.

“You have a history with them. In fact, some have watched you grow into the wonderful man and leader you are now. You may be faced with decisions that have you wondering if you made the right choice, but in so deliberating such, you are doing the right thing regardless if whether or not they may agree at times. I do not have the same burden you do, but I am familiar with the weight of it.”

Her words were heavy, but she spoke from experience. However, she fought on a different battlefield and she did not come away clean.“You may not see it, but I do. They revere you. You have come a long way and you have faced many obstacles. You share a comradery with them that most do not or cannot. Of that, even I am in awe, but I am not envious. You have earned their admiration and while I do not discount your words, you are the one that has made this possible, not I.” Finally, she pivoted her head on a swivel to regard him more appropriately, giving him one of her trademark, wan smiles.

“You are no longer the same young man I fell in love with. You have grown, and I have as well. We have grown together. And we have these wonderful people to thank for that. After all, while our oaths to one another would not have changed, it is because of them we toil. And I would not change that. They are our family. And I am very proud of that… and you.” - PART ONE

#guild wars 2 #argrin and sigrid #part two #GW2

0 notes