makinglies | Respite

Entry tags:

faerun

Respite

The lake is dark and calm with a small breeze by the time they arrive at its shores. The stars above reflect perfectly in the still waters before them, and a small copse of trees lines one side, starting on their side of the river and jumping along the other side.

Chris takes a moment to re-prepare the spell he hadn't been able to cast in five years and gestures vaguely to the area around them as a suggestion for what the others can do. Gathering in the forest, sitting on a nearby over-turned log, it didn't matter to him. What he needed was an hour without interruption.

He settles down on the ground and presses his hands together as he closes his eyes to focus on the image in his mind. Within minutes, the white, shimmering outline of a large building forms in thin air. The gentle glow of its light barely spreads from the growing structure.

As promised, it takes the full hour before the slowly filling-in form is complete and finishes with a jaunty, echoing click.

Chris takes a breath, now sitting in front of the stoop that looks annoyingly like the one he'd passed earlier in the night, and gets back onto stiff legs as the glow fades away, leaving smooth, but otherwise unremarkable, white stone behind.

"Here we are. Home for the next however long we need. I'll start working on food and water next." Once they're inside, anyway, which is why he takes back his things from where he'd left them and leads them into the temple, marked only with the carving of ravens on the black wood of the double doors.

Inside is something just shy of opulence. The same polished white stone makes the walls, though black and gold veins course through the marble. The floor is the inverse, a black stone with white, shimmering speckles like a night sky if looked at for long enough. A single window faced East high up on the wall. The temple was alight with sconces at regular intervals along the walls, illuminating an open area that held all the offerings of comfort Chris could think of.

A large hot-springs-like bath, complete with a miniature waterfall, took up the left side of the room and ran into a smaller, similar bath at dog-height. Next to it, covered by a retractable screen, was a shower. Along the back wall, a raven's head emblazoned the white wall in black and watched out over a set of tables, chairs, and a couple of sofas. The majority of the center was clear for walking, but the right edge and right side of the room held a deeply inset pit of pillows, cushions, and blankets in various soft (black and purple) fabrics.

Finally, in the middle of the right-hand wall, there were two closed doors that, when inspected, revealed one room with a large, soft chair and rug, while the other room was made of nothing but stone with jars, pitchers, and plates on shelves along two walls and a cork wall perfect for catching daggers on the other side.

"I hope it works for everyone. I didn't...I didn't make separate bedrooms this time. I didn't figure we would need them tonight."

♥

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The idea puts a more broad smile on his face. "I love that idea. Any for the rest of us?"

He goes back to preparing their meal, but most of his attention is still clearly on Amelia and her designs. "I'm sure there's a pen or something somewhere; you can use my journal to sketch out ideas."

"I don't think I'm quite ready to sketch anything. I need to know what to include first." She chuckles as she puts the coins back in the box and starts to fold all of the clothes into piles based on who they might fit. The trousers she has earmarked for adjusting to fit Wolfe are left on top of a pile for her.

"For all of us... there should be a raven's feather, or maybe even a few of them. We owe our soul threads to the Raven Queen, but we've all revolved around Chris long enough that ravens are part of us." Little Thunder squawks from somewhere above them, indignant at having not been mentioned. Amelia rolls her eyes fondly and calls the bird to her, ruffling her chest feathers as a sign of affection once she's settled on the rogue's shoulder. "And for our favorite raven, of course. Our lives are incomplete without her."

"Of course! Maybe a few paw prints too, for the girls. And, I don't know, moth wings for Poppet?" Mostly he's joking. Mostly.

He tosses a small bit of meat for Little Thunder, who breaks off of being ruffled to catch it midair, then settles right back on Amelia's shoulder to eat it. Thankfully it isn't too juicy.

"Maybe something signifying intelligence for Jon. A book? Anything but eyes," Wolfe snorts in amusement, pleased for Jon that he'll get to figure himself out without the Eye. "What about for you, Love?"

"I'll need an imprint of their paws if I'm to include those." Something she can take easily once they have ink and paper. They'll be difficult to include when they're so large, but they'll be as much of a challenge as figuring out where to put the moth wings. Every member of their family will be represented one way or another, she'll make certain of that.

Wolfe turns the question to her and she quiets, expression becoming more thoughtful and pensive. "I don't know. The herb leaves have defined me in Duplicity and you have them in your skin, but..." But they're not hers. They belong to someone else, someone whose memories she was given but who isn't her. She sighs, lifting a hand to gently stroke Little Thunder's chest once the raven has finished her treat. It gives her a chance to pull herself from thoughts that will lead to a breakdown.

"Something will come to me. I'm not in a hurry when I don't plan to embroider anything we'll wear until we specifically buy clothes for ourselves." It's a deflection and she doesn't try to play it as anything else. Before he can comment, though, she adds, "I'll ask for suggestions when I'm ready. Tonight's not the time for such thoughts. Not for me."

Again she's honest about what she can handle and again Wolfe feels a warm bloom of pride in his chest. He turns and leans over to plant an affectionate kiss on the top of her head.

"We have plenty of time. I'm sure whatever you come up with will be perfect. You're uncannily good at making sure things are just right." Exacting and thorough when she's working with her hands, something he admires as someone whose handiwork always ends at 'good enough'.

"It's a matter of practice, that's all. I wasn't good at this when I started." Or so 'her' memories tell her. Dreams, it's so unnerving to remember sitting with her mother and learning how to do this. Worse, she shared one of the earliest memories she has of that same education with Wolfe when Duplicity's effects told her she had to gift him something of deep sentimental value. What value does it have now when it was created out of nowhere and never belonged to the mother she thought she had and--

She inhales sharply when Little Thunder bites at her ear. "Ow, Thunder please. I'm here, I swear." She laughs, a very tired sound, and pulls out one of the silver pieces to offer to the bird. This is a pleasing offering, and as soon as she has it in her beak she takes wing up to one of her perches higher up in the temple.

"All right, I guess that means we have nine gold and six silver until we can get that one back. We might have to wait until Chris takes down this temple and sets up the next."

"Let her keep it, we can make more," Wolfe waves it off. He probably should be a little more practical about their funds but ten gold will go a very long way. He's also so used to gaining and losing fortune so often that it feels a little silly to be precious about it. What's most important is they have each other.

"Alright, everything is put together now, it just needs to cook," he proclaims, moving to sit with Amelia and look over the piles of clothes she'd sorted. He can easily tell the pile meant for him. Two outfits all told, though no smallclothes. He's glad of that, actually. No offense to the dead man who these had belonged to, but no one wants to wear someone else's underwear. "I think I might need a basic leather jerkin, once other more necessary things are taken care of. I'm trying not to use my magic, so if we're fighting opponents might get in close. A little added protection wouldn't go amiss."

She nods her agreement to letting Little Thunder keep the coin - it is one silver, after all - and again when he speaks of getting armor for himself. "Something simple shouldn't be too expensive. I think of it as clothing, so you'll get it sooner than later." It being protective means it also holds more merits than, say, getting her a new shirt if she can adjust the blouse Chris found for her.

"If we have the time now, I should take a few measurements with you in these new pants. I'll likely have you in and out of them several times once I really start on them without any pins or chalk to guide me." A beat, and her lips purse in thought. "Would it be horrible of me to ask Chris if I can use the chalk he keeps for communing with the Raven Queen for this? I'll only need to make a few marks and it's best for everyone that you have pants to wear that won't disappear the moment you step out the door."

"I think its just regular chalk so it should be fine? I don't think he'd be offended for you asking," he replies, resisting the urge to laugh at the turn of phrase in having him 'in and out' of his pants. Thats not how she means it. They'd agreed to get through tomorrow first and then talk, anyway. He really needs to get his mind out of the gutter.

It is nice that his first instinct is to laugh and not get lustful, though, even if he does feel an inconvenient stirring. He can resist that too, especially when the thought suddenly occurs that she'll be taking his actual measurements and realize first hand just how soft he's gotten around the middle. That cools his desire in a self-conscious hurry.

"What sort of measurements?"

"Nothing too invasive. A few around the waist to take them in properly, and I'll check along your legs as well. They don't need to be tight, but they shouldn't completely hang off you or pull in strange directions because of excess fabric." All things she can take care of with a knife, the one needle they have, and one of the bobbins of colored thread.

"I'm no tailor or seamstress, but I've done this many times in the last few years. I promise to keep my hands to only where they need to be do avoid starting anything we're not ready for." She only had one moment with Aloïs where measuring him turned into them pleasuring each other, but she knows how easy it would be to trip into it. She'll be even more cautious than she'd be with pins to avoid that.

"What? Oh, love, I'm not worried about you stepping over any boundaries." She'd said she wont and so she wont, he has no doubts there.

"Just don't be surprised with how I've, um. Atrophied," he admits, flushing a little. Its vanity, he knows it, but its also an unhappy reminder that he hadn't been free to do what he liked for some time.

"Maybe I should do another round of exercises..."

Oh, that's his worry? That he's not fit enough to be touched? Chris had mentioned that Wolfe was 'soft' and she'd felt the difference under her own hands, but she'd not thought anything of it. She'd thought even less about it when he told her what had been done to him.

"Wolfe." Her voice is gentle as she turns his face to hers with the press of her palm to his cheek. "It takes time to build or rebuild strength, and you need to save what you have for tomorrow in case of emergency. You're still as handsome as I've ever seen and no small changes are ever going to make me love you less." She smiles warmly, trying to assure him with her eyes that everything is well.

"Stay with me instead, please. I need you here far more than I need you to be exactly as you physically were some weeks ago."

"I don't think you'll love me less, I just-" He cuts himself off, putting his hand over hers but not removing it from his face just yet. "You think I'm being silly, don't you."

It's not a question. She's being soft about it, and certainly not insulting at all, but he can tell she thinks the worry is unjustified. Maybe it is, but there are a lot of reasons he tries to keep in peak shape. People respond better to attractive people, take them at face value more often, or are more inclined to trust. Historically it makes him look like less of a mage so he's not hasseled by templars or suspicious townsfolk for walking down the street. He also needs to be able to move and react as quickly and decisively as possible to stay alive or defend his people and he needs to remain lean to do so.

But really its because he liked how he looked, over forty and yet still trim. He could have easily passed for a man ten years his junior. Now he'd be lucky if he was assumed to be in his late thirties.

Silly? Never. His worries do seem exaggerated, though. That's not something she can decide for him; his feelings are his own, so she isn't about to invalidate them if she can help it.

"It sounds like this hurts you deeply, the way being passed over and taunted at that horrible booth was." It's not quite the same situation, but it's not so far off she won't use the comparison. "Nothing will fall apart as you work toward being as fit as you were before all this. I will still love you and find you attractive the entire time. Nothing will stop me from making love to you and enjoying your body when the time comes except you asking me to wait. This I swear to you."

He's allowed to feel and hold back as he needs to. It would gut her to have to wait longer for that reunion, but that isn't his fault or his problem. If he needs more time then she'll wait. End of story.

"Not deeply..." He trails off, actually looking embarrassed now. Its stupid, its as stupid as his reaction to the booth she brings up, when he should have focused on the lost autonomy, on being menaced by that specific LIEs supervisor who had it out for them, or everything else that was fucked up about the situation. Instead he was bothered about being perceived as old.

Everything Amelia says about enjoying his body should have him raring to go, and he can't deny there's a stir of interest between his legs, but its smothered under the blanket of general embarrassment with his own shallow vanity.

"I'm alright, Love. It's nothing dire enough for oaths," he leans down to kiss her, removing her hand gently from his face as he does, mostly so no one's wrists get bent awkwardly as he moves. "Just minor bothers that shouldn't be bothering me anyway. I'd rather not give it more attention than its due."

Edited (typo) 2025-11-13 16:20 (UTC)

She doesn't let him shake this off the way he's trying. "There is no 'should' or 'shouldn't' with feelings, Wolfe. You know that."

Before he can pull away completely, she catches his wrist and puts that hand between both of hers. "You're allowed to feel things however you will. If this bothers you, then it bothers you. I'm not going to judge you for that. All I want is for you to be honest about what you're feeling and let me be here for you as you find your way through. If that's holding you quietly, I'll do it. If it's reminding you of the many fine qualities of your appearance that haven't changed and I still love, I can do that too. But please, don't hide this because you feel like you 'shouldn't' be doing something.

"We escaped a literal hell, yours worse than ours in many ways. Feeling different or worn down because of the experience is not unexpected. Let me-- let all of us be here as you find your way through. Please."

It's verbose of her and maybe it's too much in ways she usually tries to avoid, but she needs to say this and needs him to hear it. She frowns softly, determined to prove to him through her words and conviction her truth.

"I love all of you, Wolfe. That hasn't changed a bit since I lost you or got you back."

Huffing good-naturedly at her insistence, Wolfe stops trying to pull away and presses his forehead to hers instead, practically bending double since she's still sitting and he'd already risen to go check the cooking. "Mine wasn't worse, and that's a terrible path to go down. It was equally horrific for everyone and I'm grateful we managed to escape."

He almost didn't. If Jon hadn't sensed him or he hadn't made his bid for freedom right when he did, he might still be strapped to a monitor, or already faded into nonexistance. He owes Jon his life in a very tangible way. "I almost didn't, so I will tell you I feel very foolish for dwelling on how I look when chances were good I wouldn't end up here at all. It has little to do with how much you love me, or I love you, which is far more in either case than I mourn my lost physique."

He kisses into her hair as he draws up again. "I am deeply grateful that you're here for me, and I will say when my vanity bothers me overmuch, but if I'm allowed to feel how I feel, then I'm allowed to feel foolish too."

He pauses a beat, then grins. "Though if you want to go on about everything you love about me, you're just as much allowed to express your feelings."

He does get to feel foolish, though she doesn't like that for him. It is what it is and she can't change it, so she allows his comment to stand with only a nod. Besides, he offers a far better distraction by subtly asking for praise. It's one of her favorite things to lay on him when the opportunity presents itself.

"Shall I start with my favorites or go top to bottom?" she smirks at him, eyebrow arched in curiosity. "Both start in the same place, but they quickly diverge after I go on and on about your clever mind, with its capacity for planning the best surprises for loved ones and also your dreamsforsaken insight into everyone around you. It's both the greatest blessing and largest curse I've ever encountered in my life, that insight."

She did say it started in the same place, so why not start while he chooses an answer?

Somehow Wolfe manages to look both very pleased and bashful as he drags himself away to check that the food isn't burning, and that expression does not change as Chris wanders in and heads for the showers. His presence is noted, but Wolfe doesn't interrupt what he's doing or what Amelia is doing to bring any attention to it.

"Considering how much I've heard you curse my insight in the past, I'm surprised it's one of your favorites."

"It keeps me honest and has helped me grow in ways I couldn't on my own. I curse it because I may not like what I hear sometimes, but that doesn't make what you say less worthy or important." Her pragmatism at its finest.

Her smirk grows as she continues. "I could have started with your eyes, too. I'm certain you know how perfectly colored they are, but they're so expressive I often lose myself to them. Happily so for how readily they reflect the love you have in your heart."

"If it serves you then I'll count it good as well," as if it's not something he prides himself on. His eyes he's a little more surprised at. He never thought of them as anything special, but he'll take the praise all the same. That is the point of this exercise, after all.

"They do reflect what they see, so I'm not surprised what you see there is a boundless depth of love," he replies, pleased at himself for the turn of phrase.

That earns a bright, silvery laugh from the rogue. "And then you go and ruin it by being overly sweet with that well-shaped mouth of yours. I swear, I never know if you're going to force a blush from me, tear me down to foundation then help build me back up, or sweep off my feet in any given moment. It's all the more difficult when you give me any kind of look or use all those things you've learned against me."

She's teasing about some of this, but not all. This is still a thing she loves and adores about him, but that doesn't make him less of a pain in the ass when he does all of these things and more so easily.

"I try to provide what you need alongside what you want. I'm thoughtful like that," he says with a wink over his shoulder, working at stirring the pot to make sure nothing stays against the bottom too long. "But you do the same for me. So much sometimes I question if I deserve such attention, but Matron only knows how hard you are to resist."

"And is it my heart you want most? Because that's all I want--" No, no that's not right. Her smile softens. "That's all I truly need of you. It's what brings me the peace I need and all the happiness I didn't know I wanted until I met you." Disregarding everything she 'remembers' from Ragneux, she wanted nothing for herself upon arriving in Duplicity. Now she craves what he brings to her life.

She smiles down at Patience as she comes over and settles at her feet, then gives the dog a few gentle pets atop her head. "You have it, of course. It's not as full of love or as expressive as yours, but it belongs to you. Shared with others," only Chris at this point, but she refuses to say that aloud, "but I give it to you without hesitation."

"I disagree," Wolfe turns at her putting her affections down, dismayed that she would dare.

"I believe I've become something of an expert on your heart, so believe me when I tell you it is full to bursting with love for whosoever you deem worthy. The way you love is breathtakingly fierce and achingly beautiful, Amelia Royer, and I will not have you put down that which I hold in such high esteem. When you want something, you can't help but strive for it head first, hang the consequences, and if it weren't for that drive in you we wouldn't have what we have. So please, don't ever speak poorly of this precious gift you've give me."

Respite

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)