makinglies | The Moon in the Sea

The Moon in the Sea

City of Deismyr, The seat of power for the Northern Coast of the Moonsea. A port and foundry city, rich in trade and exports of manufactured goods. Predominantly human population with mixes of dwarf, tiefling, elf, halfling, and others.

The emblem of a lighthouse with a feather wrapping around it emblazons the flags and the shoulders of the city guard. A storm rages over the Moonsea itself and casts the day in a dark haze for how close it is, but the working day isn't over, despite whatever ruckus might disturb the pattern of city life.

Near the northern-center section of the city stands a tall keep that looks more like a manor house at first glance, were it not for the fortifications and the single tower at one corner, a clock and balcony at it's top. The flag of the city adorns it along side another emblem: a set of feathers, crossed at their ends, a cluster of three six-pointed stars nestled between the spread pinions.

If the city is the seat of the Northern Coast, this keep is the seat of the city, and where particularly noticeable troublemakers are brought, lead through the long main hall with it's doors and halls stretching off it, under the balcony of the second and third stories overhead, and into the main throne room. There's no other word for it when four city guards line the walls and a large throne rests on a dais at the head. A Large desk can be seen against the far wall behind it where a man stands from it and moves to take his place in his oversized chair. The runner had said it was urgent and while the Ardri doubted it was truly more important than what he'd been working on, it was also a break from pouring over tedium.

Dressed in blacks and deep greens of a regally-styled outfit, the Ardri settles back, leg crossed over the other and an elbow braced on the arm of the throne to support his chin as he waits for this errant 'intruder' his guards had found in the city.

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At first, when he woke, he thought he was still in London. There's the familiar noise of a busy city, the shouts of street traders and cart drivers, the ring of hammer on metal, the roar of furnaces. But it very quickly became clear that they were not in London. The sun rose and an unknown skyline revealed itself, lacking in the chimneys or steeples he knew, the domes of St Paul's and the Bell Tower at the Houses of Parliament nowhere to be seen.

It unnerved him, but he had to push it down, gather Sammy up in his arms and leave the little rented room. He'd paid for a night's lodging in Lambeth, how had they ended up in the same room in an unfamiliar place? He couldn't fathom it.

He asked the landlady where to get a carriage to London, and while it was clear she understood most of his words, London was beyond her. She told him he was in Deismyr, and he knew he looked equally baffled. But before he could ask any more questions, Sam had woken up and wanted breakfast, and she'd happily obliged. Apparently, while she looked at Jacob with no small amount of suspicion, the tousel-haired and yawning six-year-old was as innocent as a lamb.

The next problem came when he had put money on the table for the mean and left while she'd been serving other tables. It was enough, surely, but apparently, the coins were unfamiliar and enough to cause her to call the guard. He'd not known that until walking what seemed to be one of the main thoroughfares, he and Sammy had been stopped at pike-point by a patrol.

Jacob knew he should have reacted differently, but the strangeness of the place had been wearing down his patience, and any parent who had a spear levelled at their son would see red. He'd let Sammy slip to the floor, and then kicked a Sargent in the balls to distract them as the boy had run to hide. He didn't kill any of them, but breaking noses and an arm or two was not the way to get the soldiers on side. He may have caused a cart to crash into another wagon to block a street and prevent another patrol from intercepting him before he could meet up with Sam, gathering the crying boy to him and trying to reassure him that it would be alright.

After that point, it was only a matter of time. If it had been London, he could have gone to ground and stayed hidden for several weeks. But in this place? With no connections, no idea of where he was, and a child in tow that was becoming rapidly more and more frightened? They were going to be caught. When they were, the captain of the guard at least had the sense to see Jacob meant what he said- if they left his son with him, he'd go quietly. So no one tried to take Sammy away, and the boy stayed clinging to his father's jacket as they walked from the docks up to the fortified palace.

As palaces went, it wasn't as grand as Buckingham, nor was it as bare as the Tower. It seemed to have a mix of both, but Jacob knew that as a prisoner, he wasn't seeing it at its best. This was the way they led criminals, and it was meant to be secure and intimidating. It was, and knowing that the escape routes he saw weren't feasible with Sammy in his arms only made it more so.

They reached the throne room soon enough, with the impressive chair at the back, the guards in almost ceremonial garb but with shape, efficient looking weapons. A list of his offences was already being read out, explained, and Sammy was beginning to whimper into his shirt again, burying his face.

"I appreciate that all sounds like I'm a dangerous man," Jacob began, because it did, and he was, "But if I could explain from my point of view? Some bastard pointed a spear at my son."

The man they drag before him has Chris going tense in his chair, position unchanged but eyes watchful while his offenses are read off. No wonder they'd dragged him forward. His clothes were wrong, his accent was closer to some of some of the noble families and yet he most assuredly wasn't. Chris knew all of them. This man had, single-handedly, injured several of his men and all while defending his child. This was not a normal brigand nor a normal father defending his son.

And something sang familiar in him that had him thinking of a city he remembered like a dream and names that haunted his thoughts but had long lost their faces. Yet something in that mess of memory he tries not to dwell in stirs the longer he looks at the prisoner.

"You're allowed your peace, stranger. I understand the sentiment and I think you'll find you've managed your justice for that, but the woman who first reported you is the reason you were stopped at all. Were you intending to produce proper coppers or silver for the services rendered? There's those who trade foreign coin here, is there a reason you didn't visit them when arriving in the ports?"

He puts both boots on the ground as he leans forward, arms braced on his knees to watch the man. The source of the issue didn't actually interest him, the woman would be paid regardless, but it was something to focus on while his mind worked out the problem of this man's face.

There's something about that voice, something that makes him frown and try to step a little closer, and even while the movement is small, merely a shifting of weight, weapons in the hands of the guards shift in a way that's far more pointed. Instead, Jacob just changes his hold on Sammy, rubbing up and down his back, trying to comfort him while trying to dedge up the memory connected with that voice.

Nor any Irishman he knows. He's sure of that, and the knowledge feels like it's on the tip of his tongue and yet at the same time, so distant.

But that's not what he has to worry about. More concerning is the fact he's being pressed about the original crux of the matter, which is going to make him sound like a madman. Madmen aren't allowed to keep their children.

"I wasn't aware of that." He says, because it's a fair point. "I didn't arrive by boat. Not that I recall. I'm not sure where I am. Somewhere between last night and when I woke, the city outside my window changed."

There's murmuring, scoffing. But it is the truth, and it's the only explanation he's got.

"I was told where we are. Deismyr. But we're from London. Sir, you may have heard of places further afield than the Landlady I first met, so perhaps you can tell me how we can get home?"

The account is crazy to Chris in so far as teleporting another person against their will still usually left a trace or had the caster nearby, rarely was it possible unknowingly without the gods involving themselves or ancient magic that didn't appear in inns. More than that, are memories of travelling somewhere without notice or cause, not once but twice. Again, that dream-like city. It stirs louder and then the man says 'London' and it feels like the airs been taken from him.

There's a small murmur in the guards and the Captain stands a little straighter by Jacob. "You'll refer to Ardrí Sonom as 'his lordship,' stranger." It's not said cruelly, but certainly with a firmness. Though, he looks over as the Ardrí stands abruptly from his seat.

Chris takes a step forward, one foot down on the next stair before he finds words, bright green eyes boring into the man in front of him. "Did you say 'London?' London..." -what was it? "-England?"

"Sonom?"

Jacob repeats the name back to the guard, a note changed in his voice. That, like the sound of the other man's speech is familiar, at the tip of his tongue and its desperate to get out, but he just can't find the key to release the memory from its shackles.

Even Sammy seems to have picked up on it, sniffing instead of crying and looking at his father with that questioning look so many children wear when their parents are confused.

"Yes, London. In England. You know it?"

Maybe they're somewhere in Europe or some remote island off the coast but... he knows they can't really be. How did they get here without Jacob being stirred by their captors? How can everyone understand him but not recognise Queen Victoria on his coins? He dordnt know. But he knows that something like this has happened before, years ago.

"I know you, somehow." He says quietly, as the other man approaches. Handsome and crowned with golden hair, those green eyes. He does know him, but the realisation knocks the words from him.

That one word 'London' brings back a rush of faces and memories. A younger man with piercings and short hair talking about his home in London, days spent in his shop -the Theatre- kissing and touching as freely as they liked where days sometimes barely any work got done. Another face, darker in complexion like Ra'ah, and heavily scarred but he scowls at Chris in a way that makes his heart sing and dance and yearn; he spoke of a different London altogether, one of horrors and fears. Another young man with life burning bright in his eyes and in the way he laughs and it pulls Chris in like he can selfishly feel warmed by that fire and lose some of his chill for a time; that face gains lines and the fire grows dim, but in it's place is a tempered steel that draws Chris in just as surely. The promise of safety and determination and a wisdom born of a life lived...and that face lingers in his eyes as his focus falls upon it now. Here. In front of him.

Chris' breath stutters and catches and his feet take him down the last couple steps before he remembers himself and blinks. All at once the fearful hope in his expression clamps down under regal façade. "I am familiar with the name and you are surely far enough afield to cause concern."

He looks up to the captain. "Rian, make sure your men are tended to by the healers and given a few days to recover. Speak to Caffery and get the offended party her payment and a little more with apologies from me personally for this...ah diplomatic incident."

The captain nods, back straighter as soon as he's addressed, though he hesitates after it seems Chris is done. "And the prisoner, Ardrí?"

Chris looks to Jacob, his son, and something vulnerable flickers through his expression before he looks back to his captain. "I'll take them into my custody personally, this is a diplomatic incident, they're far from home and...it may take some time to get them back, but I promise they'll keep from trouble in meantime."

That seems enough to placate the guard captain and he bows -as do the rest- before ushering his men from the throne room. Once the room is devoid of any but the original four guards still at their posts, Chris kneels down in front of his guests, long green cloak pooling behind him. He focuses on the small boy, voice turning gentle. "Hello, there, young man...may I ask your name?" He knows it...he's sure he knows it, but something in him needs to hear it just as surely as that same something can't bear to stare up into the sun that is his father. Not yet.

There's a moment, several long moments, where Jacob feels like he's being talked over, around. There but unaddressed, the elephant in the room. It's unsettling because his gaze and the gaze of Ardri Sonom have met, there's been something pass between them, some understanding, some familiarity. He's even more confident they know each other, but it feels like a dream, another world, another life. Whatever it was, it was a long time ago, before Sammy, and Sammy right now is the most important thing he can protect, the most treasured thing he has.

He keeps hold of him, keeps the child tight to his chest, hand gently on the back of his head, while this Lord and his guard have their exchange. He doesn't know why he isn't being addressed, part of him, a younger part, wants to step between them, demand attention, demand the answers to his questions, demand to know what the hell is going on. But his temper has cooled with age, so he waits and observes. The guards are being sent away. Order is being restored.

And then his brows raise upward, and the man comes to settle on his knees in front of them. Neither of the four guards are close enough to prevent Jacob from kicking this Lord in the face if he so chose, but that's simply how Jacob's brain works. How can he fight, how can he protect Sammy. And yet Sammy is the one who the man directs himself to, and because Sammy is the child he is, the boy immediately looks at the blond man with curiosity.

But he doesn't give his name, because Jacob made sure he knew not to do that. Never tell someone who you are. Not unless you're sure you can deal with them. So he shakes his head, but he's clearly having to hold back.

Jacob, for his part, lets his tight hold relax a little, "I think it's alright," He tells his son softly, a murmur into Sammy's dark hair. He can't put a name to the face, but he knows that... he's happy to see this man.

"'M Sam, sir."

Chris has nothing but patience and, for a bit, whatever 'important' work he'd been doing seems to fade from his mind. All that mattered right now were these two people who shouldn't be here.

"Hello, Sam. It's nice to meet you, I'm Chris...and I'm sorry everything's been so scary and confusing today. May I talk to your daddy for a moment? You can stay right there with him and When we're done, I promise we'll find something to make it better, okay?" He finally glances up to Jacob --it is Jacob, it has to be, even with his memories still caught in that dream-haze, the name has never left him-- but then lets his eyes fall back to the boy for his permission.

Barely a moment later, however, the doors open again and this time a cat-woman walks in with sleek black fur and bright green eyes. "Chris, she's- Oh." She pauses, considers the scene before her and continues. "My apologies, but she's awake and asking for you."

Chris glances over to her and gives a nod. "I can take her." He looks back to Sam with a small smile. "Sorry about that...so, can I borrow your daddy's time a moment?"

It's a good thing that the blond is distracted by Sam, because as soon as he says his name, Jacob's knees go weak. He manages to bring Sam down to floor level, crouching as he head spins. Chris. Chris. CHRIS.

It echoes around in his head like laughter in an underground cave, a memory that floods back to him in the same moment, joined by so many others as the wall that held them back crumbles. Sam doesn't seem to notice, too distracted by Chris.

"You know my dad?" He says, turning now his own feet at on the floor, apparently no longer interested in being held and he pulls out of Jacob's grip. Not to go far, just to look at Chris and then turn his head as the door opens, just as Jacob does.

But Jacib is also reaching for Sam again, ready to pull him back again if whatever comes through the door looks dangerous.

"Dad!" Sam says in an excited whisper that everyone in the room can hear, "That lady's a cat!"

His eyes are as wide as dinner plates, but when Chris addresses him again he nods, granting permission before adding, in a much more hushed, awed tone: "That cat lady talked."

"I don't think she's a cat," Jacob says, "I think she's a lady who looks like a cat."

Chris' smile widens and the 'cat lady' gives a small chuckle before leaving with a small wave to the astonished boy.

"She's a Tabaxi, her name is Wind and she's the nanny here. And thank you, Sam...I do know your daddy." Gods, does he...

Finally. Finally he lets himself look at Jacob, now at eye level and seemingly paler than he did a moment ago. That vulnerability breaks through the cleric again, hope and fear and anticipation warring for a place in his expression until he can clamp down on it again.

"Jacob Frye...you're a long way from home...love..." How and why and all the reasonable questions he should be asking settle respectfully at the back of his mind, waiting for a time when practicality can re-assert itself. "Do you remember me? Even a bit?"

"My dad says only posh bast-" Sam begins, repeating verbatim what Jacob has said about people who have nannys. But Jacob cuts him off before he manages to complete that embarrassing sentence.

"Sammy." He says gently. "Close your eyes for me."

The boy may or may not have done so but Jacom moves his hand to cover the child's eyes, his other movibg to the back of Chris' head to knot in those golden threads.

"Of course I do." He says, leaning in and kissing Chris before the younger man can ask any more silly questions. Of course he remembers him, don't be ridiculous. He remembers him and all their adventures. True, his memory was foggy before but now? Now its clear as crystal and he can not help the relief and joy that spread through him.

"And clearly you remember me." He adds when he let's the kiss break, his hand moving to Chris' shoulder to hold him tight, and dropping from Sammy's eyes.

"Sammy, Chris and I know each other from a long time ago. Before you were born. We stayed at another city together. This is... this is your city, on Moonsea?"

The question is uncertain, but asked because he thinks he's right in saying that, even if he can't recall what that city was called.

Chris' lips twitch up for the half-finished sentence, but it falls completely in favor of lips on his and a hand in his hair and his hands move up automatically, one clutching in Jacob's coat and the other cupping his face. Oh, his guards will talk, he's sure, but they'll be careful with it. They were only people, but those stationed here were desperately loyal and Chris doesn't pay them much mind as he meets that kiss with a small sound he can't quite bite all the way back.

When the kiss breaks, his hand slips to the side of Jacob's neck but he keeps close. "Of course I do." He echoes. Gods, he just wants to hold this wonderful man close, kiss his face, remind his arms what it feels like to be curled around Jacob Frye...later. Even if he has to find a way for them to get home, they can have that at least. He tells himself that instead of listening to the little voice that offers maybe they don't have to leave...that little voice was an unkind thing.

At least Jacob's question offers a distraction. "Yes. Deismyr, though it had a different name when I told you of it. Melvaunt is a thing of the past." Destroyed and rebuilt on the ashes with a new direction, new government, new resolve. He shakes his head a little. "I still don't understand how you're here...it's been well over a year since...that place...and you've your son-" He looks to Sam and offers another little smile. "He looks like you."

"I remember Melvaunt." Or at least, Chris mentioned it. But he didn't realise this was it, built out of the ruins. "So everything here, it's new? Completely rebuilt?"

He will admit to being surprised, because that's no easy feat, although enough time has passed for him that perhaps Chris has been able to make miraculous progress. He has a goddess on his side, after all. That no doubt helps when you want to get things done in a hurry.

"Longer than that." Longer than a year, for him anyway. But he doesn't seem to care, not when Sammy is with him, he knows the boy is safe. "I don't know either. We went to sleep in London, we woke up here. If I'd had any idea that you were here, we would have come up here immediately. I... I'm sorry about the guards." He remembers the one who held the pike at Sam, and corrects himself. "Most of the guards."

He moves his free hand to his son then, brushes his hair back. He does look like Jacob, but the chin isn't quite the same, the dark a touch darker than Jacob's own. He's not going to grow up as broad as his father, Jacob's pretty sure, but that might work in his favour.

"Dad," The boy interrupts, "I'm hungry."

"I can see that..." He says it gently, but there's a bit of a teasing note to his smile. "And don't worry, they'll be set straight and taken care of, you didn't kill any of them, so it's just an eventful day. I'm sorry one of them pointed a weapon at him, they ought know better, but I imagine the captain will handle it. For the rest...we'll put thought to it tomorrow. You've been through enough today."

He stands as Sam makes his needs known and Chris turns that gentle look on him again. "Well, good news: plenty of food to be had and-" The door opens again and Wind, the Tabaxi from before returns. Braced on her hip is a little tiefling girl around three years old or so, her skin a deep blue with long red hair and matching red eyes. Her horns are small things, barely past her hair and only just starting a small curve. Chris' face lights up as he turns and heads to meet them.

"Ah...there's my princess. Sleep well, sweetheart?" The little girl nods and wraps her arms around Chris' neck as he takes her into his arms. She opens her mouth to say something, but then turns her face to bury it shyly into Chris' hair. "Oh, starshine...it's alright." He walks them back over to Jacob and Sam. "They're friends. Closer to family, no need to be shy."

Chris talks and Jacob accepts what he has to say- hopefully the city guard won't hold a grudge against him, hopefully the prick that had a weapon held at Sammy will not make that mistake again. He doesn't insist they talk about getting home now, frankly he doesn't want to. He's got too many questions, too many to ask here and now anyway.

He isn't sure what the time is exactly, but they ate just after it got light and the sun wad high in rge sky when they'd been brought here. No wonder he's hungry, he burns through food like a furnace through charcoal.

Jacob gets to his feet when they're interrupted, and much like his son, his attention is on the little girl. Not because of her oddly hued skin or horns, he recalls meeting someone with some features before. But what throws him is the obvious paternal love Chris shows, his voice, his pose, the look in his eyes is full of love.

Rather than be jealous that Chris has clearly found some sort of happiness with someone, Jacob finds that he's just happy that Chris has this joy in his life.

"We're both very pleased to meet you." Jacob says, his hands resting on Sammys shoulders, and the boy nods eagerly.

"Charmed, Miss." He pipes in.

Chris nods and turns the little girl a bit so she can see the other two instead of hide in Chris' hair. "Aliyah, this is Jacob and Samuel Frye, they're from very far away and are guests in our home, alright? Important ones." The little girl's red eyes are sharp with intelligence, though she blinks owlishly at them a moment before nodding.

"Hello and..." She glances to Chris who nods to her encouragingly. "-welcome to our home distinguish guests."

Chris beams and shifts her over so he can put a hand on Jacob's shoulder again. "Good! Very good. We're working on it. Let's get that food and we can talk more." As he leads them through the door Wind had come through and down a hall deeper into the keep, his hand trails from shoulder to back, never quite willing to leave contact off from the other man if he can help it. He doesn't have to wonder why, at least, there's still some part of him that's afraid this is fake, that Jacob and his son will vanish into smoke as soon as Chris stops paying attention.

"What sorts of things do you two want to eat? Whatever it is, I'll make it happen." He shoots Jacob a small smirk. "Perks of being a posh bastard..."

Edited 2022-11-06 18:03 (UTC)

The little girl repeats Chris' words verbatim and Jacob smiles at her, thinking that she must have to greet guests far more important than him and Sammy. Diplomats and gods or representatives of gods, or other Lords or rulers. The fact that Chris says they're important is... well. They're a different sort of important aren't they?

Sammy doesn't want to stay by Jacob's side as they walk, deciding he likes Chris and young Aliyah, he trots along on Chris' other side. If he's aware of how close Chris and Jacob walk, he doesn't mention it.

"I like toast. And boiled eggs. But the yellow bit should be runny so you can dip your toast in." The boy says, "But if we don't have eggs then I like to have mash and sausages. What do you have?" He asks the girl in Chris' arms.

"We'll happily have whatever is easiest." Jacob says, as his son babbles away, enjoying the familiar hand on his back. "Because we aren't posh. But you look like you're doing very well for yourself."

"Boy after my own heart." Chris mumbles as Aliyah half leans over Chris' arm to look at the boy and start prattling off the foods she likes. Starting with honey cakes, of course. She was as bad as Silver, but at least she had the excuse of age on her side.

Chris lets his fingers dart up to touch fondly at the hairs along the back of Jacob's neck before they return to his back. "Eggs are plenty easy and you both are worth any effort." He'd have to fight his cook, Lightless, for the kitchen, but they'd figure it out.

He gives a small laugh that is more performance than real, but a well-practiced one. "I'm king, of course I'm doing well for myself. More importantly, the region's doing well. Those in the city are jumpy and cautious for injuries taken in recent past, but generally there's peace enough. I..." He pauses his words a moment as the kitchen door approaches and Aliyah wriggles in his arms to be set down. He obliges her readily and she takes Sam's hand to 'lead' him to the Kitchen. "Don't get under foot!" He calls after her then looks back to Jacob. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around you being here, love. I'm...more happy than's fair to you, but the 'how' is- ah, sorry. I said it'd wait."

Jacob's almost too distracted by the word King to watch his son and the little girl he assumes to be Chris' daughter run off together. He almost warns against letting them run free but it's too late by the time his mind has gotten back into gear. No doubt Sammy is going to do his usual of trying to make friends with all the cooks so they will teach him how meals are put together.

Chris did tell him, a long time ago it seems, that he was the ruler. A king. Jacob just hadn't really taken it in. He'd thought it was a position more like a Duke, running a city state. But what's the different between a Duke and a king, really?

He blinks, looking back at Chris, turning to face him and putting his hand on the other man's elbow.

"Don't. Don't think about how's, or why's, or any of that. Not for the moment. Tomorrow we can worry about all of that. Right now I want... I want to hear about how you are. How long has it been? What... just tell me everything."

Chris nods and leans in to press a kiss to Jacob's lips, a brief thing but no less heated for it's brevity and his hand comes to rest on Jacob's chest. "Alright. While we make food and feed the gremlins."

He pauses a moment, his fingers curling into Jacob's shirt as he cocks his head. "Aliyah's my daughter, adopted when someone left her at our door. My friend offered to take her in, but he's a brood of nearly ten already, I figured I could handle one little girl. Just...in case you had thoughts of some Queen in the wings you'd need to be mindful of."

He had a couple Prince Consorts Jacob would need to meet certainly, but Chris had almost no concerns for it, Kallian was charming enough to sweep Jacob off his feet and Ra'ah would respect the man's rouge-like abilities. He'd win them both over in no time, once they were eventually back in town....if Jacob were around that long. He probably shouldn't be planning so far in advance.

He burries that thought away, though, it was too unkind to dwell on.

Chris says I thought I could handle one little girl and Jacob can't help but laugh, his arm wrapping tight around Chris' waist and holding him tight, nuzzling his face into the other man's cheek.

"Girls are much trickier than boys," Jacob teases, although he really has no evidence or even experience to back that up, he does easily fall back into the habit of gently joking with Chris. It's easy, natural, despite everything around them being... not. Well, it's easy and natural for Chris, and for Aliyah, it's only unnatural for him and Sammy.

Speaking of the children, he looks up, watching the two of them, making sure they're not doing anything more than wriggling into the hearts of the kitchen staff, wanting to try everything and anything.

"What about other kings?" He asks, attention going back to Chris, offering a soft smile. "Don't worry, I promise not to... cause problems." He should probably let go, but Chris doesn't seem about to let go of him, and besides, he recalls that Chris, like Jacob, was never solely with one other person.

The tabaxi in the kitchen are all too happy to show the children how their breakfast is being made and even lets them help a little, a gentleness to them that said they weren't bothered in the least. Chris was more thankful for them than he could begin to describe. Especially, currently, poor Clock who was answering every clever and inane question Sam could think of regarding the various cat-people in Chris' employ.

For his part, Chris settles himself and Jacob, an arm wrapping around the other man as well, in a corner of the kitchen where they'd be largely out of the way before he answers. His hand comes up to cup along Jacob's cheek as he looks at those lovely hazel eyes. "You cause all sorts of problems, Mr. Frye, don't tell falsehoods...but you needn't worry. I think you'll like them and I'm certain they'll like you. Malik Kallian is a bard and a charming fucker, he'll dive right for your heart in no time. Ra'ah Akumati might be a little trickier, but he's a rogue and thief, I'm sure a little challenge of skill would have him warming to you in no time."

Chris' expression turns searching a moment. "They're out of town, though and will be a while yet. You might not have to deal with them...unless you're intending a longer stay."

Edited 2022-11-15 13:48 (UTC)

Jacob's attention does move, watching his son with Chdis' staff, his hand still held by the little girl. He doesn't seem to be getting underfoot, a blessing to parents of inquisitive children. Still, he keeps an ear out even as Chris guides him out of the way and to a spot to sit down.

"That's in general. I mean specifically." He points out as Chris gently warns him against fibbing. And while he appreciates that Chris knows him of old, this is... uncertain ground. He is a no one here, a man with his child that don't belong, and he doesn't intend to make life difficult, for Chris or his partners. They sound... well, they sound just the sort of men that Chris would be with. Each of them a little like himself, or perhaps he's a little bit like both of them.

"If I have the chance to meet them, know I will do so gladly." He means that, truly, based on Chris' words alone they seem like men he could get along with. But he doesn't know how long he and Sammy will be staying. How can he, when he has no idea of what brought them here? But there's a hesitation in his words too. Is his presence here going to mean explaining the strange city they met in? Will Chris' menfolk accept that or is the whole thing going to simply cause headaches and heartaches?

There's a moment's pause as he watches Jacob, the lines on his face, the worry at his eyes as thoughts clearly run rampant in him. That mind of his burns and that's exactly as Chris remembers and loves it. He remembers Jacob thinking little of his intelligence and his critical thinking, but Chris sees it in him now. His clever mind works as fast as any and draws Chris in as the moth to his flame.

He reaches over to take Jacob's hand and bring it up to his lips for his attention. "What's in your head, love? And how's your heart while we're at it? You and he've been through a lot in the span of hours and even if we're shelving the why, we don't need to shelve how it's effecting you and what you're feeling."

Chris looks over towards the children and how the leonin has found a step stool for Sammy to stand on to watch him cook with the direction to keep his hands at this side for his safety, while Aliyah is lifted onto the chef's broad shoulders to watch as well. And dig her little hands into his mane of hair, but she was Chris' daughter in that regard, always wanting the feeling of hair past her fingers, even if it was only an innocent thing.

"He's of you...so forgive my forwardness that I'd claim a want for his safety and happiness no different than if he'd been of us while you both are here. That includes taking care of his father for him."

Jacob smiles as Chris distracts him from his thoughts, the lips against his skin very welcome, and the words too. More so are Chris' eyes, so frank and full of love that Jacob feels his heart skip a beat.

"My mind and heart are as one, at least in this moment. Full of happiness for seeing you, for seeing you safe and with a little one who adores you, but... I can't pretend that I'm not worried that I might make your life harder. And it must hard already with a city to care for."

He shakes his head though, as if to disregard all of that worry.

"It has been... a trying morning. Waking up somewhere unexpected does not bode well in my experience, even more so when you have a child with you and there are soldiers chasing you." He let's out a slow breath, looking back to his son, pleased to see him doing as he's told and keeping his hands out of the way. He's not even leaning forward too much. Thank goodness.

"I think my heart will stop racing by the evening. Seeing you made it go even faster, but in the very best of ways."

And then Chris says of us in that way that makes Jacob rememeber the before, the times they had met and Chris' body had been different, and if not for the actions of the city, such a thing could have transpired. He feels heat spread up his neck, and he tries to fight it, letting out a soft laugh.

"There's almost no one else I would trust with his safety quite as much as you." He confirms.

Edited 2022-11-29 13:09 (UTC)

Chris offers a small smile and kisses Jacob's hand again. "Then rest easy that he is protected here. Those guards who chased you will know before the day is out that he's to be kept safe no differently than if he were Aliyah's kin. Meantime...I don't think you'll cause trouble for me...and if you do, I'll weather it."

Chris turns more in Jacob's direction even as he notes the Leonin beginning to serve the food onto plates. Their privacy was about to be broken, but he could say his peace. "You are worth fighting for, protecting, and carving a place into my life for, Jacob. So long as you want to be at my side, I will make that happen, because it's surely where I want you to be as well."

He turns Jacob's hand to kiss the inside of his wrist with a sharper smile. "And were the kids off exploring the garden, I'd show you exactly how much I still appreciate your physique and the lines on your face, even with every other eye in this room still present. I'll happily seek to make your heart skip a beat whenever I next can..."

"I hope we don't do anything that brings the guards attention to him." Jacob says, much preferring to be outside of their notice than known and left alone. But he supposes that now he's a friend of the king, a close friend at that, there is risk involved. It didn't look like the city was suffering from the effects of war, but even in peace times a monarch is in danger. Jacob knows that well enough from his own efforts to protect Victoria over the years. And perhaps he can help do that here, look after Chris with skills that others here won't necessarily have...

But he doesn't even get the chance to offer that because Chris is offering to protect him, and Jacob can only smile in return, this expression tender. Chris no doubt can protect him, find a place for him here. It might be necessary too, depending how long returning them might take.

"Chris-" He begins as Chris begins to kiss his wrist and it sends a flare of warmth through him, from his wrist all the way to his toes, and his cheeks heat too. Especially because he too can see the plates being filled and brought this way.

"You're terrible," He says with a soft laugh, because how can he fail to be anything but flattered and worked up by those promises. "And here I was about to ask if there was some way I could serve you. Seems like you already have a few ideas."

Serve me? Hmm...yes, I can think of a few things. I'll be happy to share them later." He offers with a pointed smile as the plates are Placed before them with a nod from the chef. The kids, meanwhile seem to be getting their own, elevated place at a stretch of counter no more than a couple feet from their guardians (and safely out of the way of the staff.) Aliyah cheerfully babbles om about the food and the garden even as her new friend turns to catch Jacob's attention. Chris' smile is fond, even if their conversation lingers between them for the pause.

It gives Chris a chance to listen and watch the man across from him...and think on a more serious answer for him. How he might serve Chris. Was there an answer that didn't just serve the crown? He didn't want that for Jacob. The years had clearly been hard on him. didn't he deserve some rest? Chris didn't want to break what peace he might find while stuck here.

That wicked little smile leaves a heat in Jacob that he can't rightly explain, not after so long, not after years of not remembering, not knowing the man sat with him. And yet it comes back to him in a rush that is familiar and welcome, both in his cock and in his heart. He laughs, feeling that heat work its way to his face as food is set down in front of him. He's not been served by servants since he was living in his own father's home, but at least they're in the kitchen, not in some high hall. That makes this all a little more familiar - Jacob's housekeeper, the woman who helped raise Sammy when Jacob had no idea what to do - takes her meals with them, as a member of the household and a friend.

That's why now Sammy seems to be watching the kitchen staff here, waiting for them to sit down before he eats, and looking at his father when they don't.

"I think they've probably had breakfast already," Jacob tells him gently, "Go on, eat before it gets cold. You've had a real adventure this morning."

Calling it an adventure clearly catches Sammy's imagination, it seems clear that the little boy longs for the adventures he believes Jacob has, and the fact they've been on one together here makes him smile from ear to ear. When Aliyah suggests playing in the garden, Sammy immediately starts setting out an idea for a game- escaping the imaginary guards of the evil fortress.

Jacob lets them talk, hopefully not forgetting their breakfast, and begins on his own, his attention moving to Chris, unusually quiet.

Not for the first time, Chris is reminded just how good a father Jacob seems to be. Calling it an adventure, the gentle way he speaks with the boy...it reminds him of Ra'ah, not made for it as Kallian clearly was, but trying his best...and proving fairly successful. At least in the ways that mattered.

It looked good on him.

He could remember thoughts, now seemingly long past and part of a fever dream, but quiet nights lay in some of them. Vigorous fucking had led to quieter moments of dozing and Chris would sometimes wake up just to trace Jacob's face with his eyes, if not his fingers. He'd indulged in thoughts of what a child between them might look like. Impossible and something he'd kept to himself, especially after it became impossible, but he can see it clearly now. Another life.

Enough so that when Jacob looks back to him, Chris stares at him a moment too long before jerking back to himself as color flares over his cheeks. How silly of him, he could be imaging all sorts of tawdry things he wanted with the other man and he's here daydreaming about a quiet life he couldn't ask of Jacob, no matter how much he loved him still.

He looks down to his food. "My apologies, I was thinking you look good like that: being a father. Suits you well." He shakes his head a bit and spares them both. "When we're through, we can go to the gardens while they play or leave a couple staff to mind them, if you need rest?"

He can't know what Chris is thinking, but while he slowly eats and takes sips of the drinks that they've been given, he watches the other man's face. He seems... calm, relaxed, thinking of something far away or maybe just daydreaming. He looks happy, even if there's a slight tightness that appears at his jaw- as if he regrets something, maybe?

Jacob can't think of what. Chris seems happy here, woth his lovely little girl and his menfolk, even if they are away right now. He has his city and his people, which was something he had cared about so much when they had first met. What could his life be lacking?

A little selfish thought in Jacob's mind says me, but he privately scoffs at the thought. He's here now, and while he might well have to go again, that seems like it will take some time to arrange. Likely months, if not more. And while Jacob can't imagine what people in London will do if he's away that long, he can't do much about it than help Chris as best he can. Which might not be at all.

When Chris seems to return to the here-and-now, and makes his observations about Jacob as a father, he feels his own blush return.

"I'll take the compliment from a man who is himself a good dad." He replies, nodding towards the two little ones, making up their games. "I know neither of us thought we'd be in this position, but we seem to be doing something right."

He reaches out then, to touch Chris' wrist. He doesn't say anything, nothing needs to be said, it's just a gentle, brief little touch that says... a great deal, truth be told. I missed you. I'm proud of you. You deserve happiness. and all manner of things besides.

But then he removes his hand, picks his fork back up.

"The garden would be nice. Let them run around and tire themselves out, and we can talk."

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The Moon in the Sea

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