Grave's Campside

[MackenzieGael]

Mac clamped her lips against the shriek that threatened to erupt when he lifted her from her feet. He'd caught her off guard, innocently, but enough to scare her. It had been years since anyone had carried her, but the emotions that coursed through her body were unlike anything she'd ever felt before. Smiling she studied his profile in the fading light. While riddled with scars, the face underneath was handsome. One she imagined women fawned over at the French court. Now, with the soft sheen of water glistening from his brow he stared intently ahead. What was he thinking? What was he feeling? Reaching out with her free hand she brushed a stray strand of damp hair from his eyes. No matter how many women had thrown themselves at his feet. How many he'd notched in his belt. She could feel in his shoulders, in his touch, from the deep glance gaze of his eyes and in the endearing tone of his voice, that he was now hers, just as she was his.

When they finally settled against the log she snuggled into his side, as much for warmth as the need to touch. The night air was crisp but slightly chilled, and when it's long icy fingers caressed her damp clothes, Mac shivered. She glared into the night, as though threatening it to cool her more. The fire was crackling, his body was warm. This was their time! Here! Now! Give us the night Mother! When his voiced reached her, drawing her back to the Earthen plane of existance, Mac smiled softly. "Aye... the locket... weeel... it's as though..." she stopped a moment to gather her thoughts and take a deep breath, "I feel as though I've known ye much longer than this lifetime. Much longer than even these trees around us. Did ye.... do ye nay feel the sparks that jump between us e'ven noo?"

Her fingers sought his hand, to bind them together, to touch. Fingers entwined in his she drew both their hands up to her lips, gently placing a kiss against the knuckles before letting them both fall back to her lap. "I am afraid that I can offer you no gift this evening Mac..." His words touched her, trailed inside her body and buried into the deep dark places, into the very essence of her soul to take root and flourish. "Grave, you have already given me everything I could ask for." Her eyes sought his in the soft light of the fire. "I seek no material goods nor gifts. I merely ask for ye. For yer love, yer trust, yer companionship." Mac chuckled softly, her mind falling back to his words. "Although... if'n ye can speak w' Mother Nature and procure that dress of stars and moons, I think it would go welll w' ma ehh... complexion no?"

[SirJulienDelval]

The world seemed to have changed around him. Somehow it all seemed so different. Was it too different? Was this something that he could stand no longer? What was its purpose, it's reason? What was the meaning of love?

He looked into her eyes and realized that he did not care. His world may never be the same again, but had it been all that he wanted it to be in the first place? Certainly he had been happy in those days before The Change, just as he had been happy before becoming Icey Grave, Lord Of Midnight. His name swam before him - Sir Julien Delval.

Her touch upon his brow startled him from his reverie. Her fingers felt hot upon his skin suddenly, as the cold swept through him. Her body was warm and he drew her closer, if such a thing was possible.

"Sparks?" He spoke, rolling the word over in his mouth. This foreign tongue was so much more brutal than that of his homeland. Germanic. Yet at the same time certain lips could shape it to be a thing of beauty. "Sparks, mais oui. But of course. Sparks so much that we should not put wood between us lest it catch alight. I fear for the safety of the town if you should visit Chester." He saw the look in her eyes at his words and kissed her once more to reassure her. Here was one that he would have to be careful with. No brusque woman but one who had a strong exterior and a warm, soft soul inside.

"Although... if'n ye can speak w' Mother Nature and procure that dress of stars and moons, I think it would go welll w' ma ehh... complexion no?"

He could imagine the diamond stars dripping across her skin. From her long curled hair down to the strength of her shoulders, across her back, down over her ribs and navel, dripping down her thighs to her calves and feet... and then he realised this was not all imagination. For though they had spent the night clothed, holding close, the droplets of water that were drying upon her skin gave Mac a halo of jewels that sat upon her skin. It was as beautiful as dew upon grass in the early morning sun. His forefinger traced one of the droplets down her cheek and he laughed. The early morning sun was starting to warm the cold ink of the sky now. The light drew across the velvet once more, covering the firmament and the traveling souls that passed across it.

"Ah, Helios doth return to the sky, forever chasing my Lady but never catching her. He is so fickle and crazy, believing that he could possess one so beautiful as she. For while she rules the night river of souls he is simple and forgotten and alone in the day." He blinked the mirth from his face, and then continued. "It appears that we have talked the whole night through! What will the people of Beeston say when they see you approaching from the direction of my campsite, fair Lady Mayor? Surely jealous Knights aplenty, desperate to run this one simple Wolf through and make of him a kebab. If you wish to go we could ride to the far side of town and part there. I understand if you do not wish to be seen with such as I."

He held his head high, knowing that his teeth were slightly bared.

[MackenzieGael]

His kiss and the touch of his fingers on her skin drowned out the world, leaving her vibrating and alive... oh so alive. She longed to crawl into the circle of his arms and never leave, to live here with him among nature and sleep under the beautiful expanse of stars. Her forehead fell to his shoulder and she sighed deeply. If alas such a think could be wrangled but to do so would mean giving up on those who depended on her. She was mayor, and owed her time and knowledge to the running of Beeston, which admittedly was beginning to really take off and flourish with the devoted help of the towns people. Then there was council... Ohhh Chester council.... ugh! but she was thinking of work! Not here! Not now! Mac think of the man you are leaning against, how solid and warm he feels. How much the depth of his feeling showed in the gentle caress of fingers...

"Ah, Helios doth return to the sky..."

She glanced around quickly, as though confused at the sudden shimmers of light that crept over the land and then turned her face to the morning sun, steadily creeping over the horizon. A deep chuckle vibrated from her chest as a smile turned her lips heavenward and danced exuberantly to her eyes.

"Och aye, it dae appear we've ushered the grian into the sky. 'E an e's bonnie orange tendrils o' hair that s'ream 'owards us." Mac turned her face to him then, her eyes studying his face. "I dinnae think anywan wull be payin' me ony attention nor wud they be wish'n ta run ye through like a spike." She stood then, eyes closing briefly while the blood rushed back into her limbs. She'd been sitting much longer than it seemed and not only were her legs devoid of feeling but so was her bum. Resisting the urge to rub it Mac extended her arm instead, her hand dangling in front of Sir Julien to help him up.

"I say... we tak the long rood, so as we migh' talk a wee bit more."

[SirJulienDelval]

He took her hand and pulled himself to his feet, his leg muscles aching in the cool air of the morning. Bending to her her hand he kissed it, then her. Pulling her close his hands ran across her body lightly. Warmth bloomed inside him as he felt her curves. He marshaled himself and stepped away. Walking to the embers of the one bright and blazing fire, Grave knelt and gave them a prod. They flared into life once more.

"So, Lady..." He stopped himself. The formalities seemed so false dripping from his lips. "Mac. Tell me of your family. Who are your mother, and father? I have always been fascinated by the subject of lineage - I who have none myself. My own family is that of commoners. Despite what they say of me I am a simple man."

As she spoke he wandered around the campsite. Producing a battered earthenware bowl from his tent, he filled it from a pitcher of water and set it in the flames to warm. Finding his sweet smelling pouches he searched through them. The scent of several different types of mint mixed with that of lemon balm, and lavender, the earthy scent of roots and tubes, the spiciness of pepper, a touch of marjoram, old and brittle jasmine, and then... ah! There it was. The small greased paper packet of leaves from far away. Sprinkling some into the water - a healthy amount for what he had paid for them - he stirred with the blade of his eating knife and sat down to watch them mature. Her voice was silver dew upon the air, his eyes watched her movements. She had strong hands that he had seen capably both signing mayoral documents and digging amongst her wheat. He remembered one day when he had come upon her brushing down her horse outside her office, and the powerful line of her muscles beneath her shirt.

The water boiled, and he hooked it out. It was hot upon his hands but the calluses protected them, and the hurt brought his vision back into sharp relief. He could not believe he had sat up all night simply talking to someone. What did this mean? His adventures with other women would have lead to far different pursuits. Yet they would have meant so much less. Taking a mint leaf from his pocket, he absently placed it between his teeth and chewed.

[MackenzieGael]

"So, Lady..."

Mac glanced quickly up at him, a smile tugging at the left side of her lips when he quickly recovered and called her by her chosen name. Even though they had merely shared one night sitting by a vivacious fire, the hours seemed more like days equal to their length. She felt a bond with him like they were tied together with the silk of the famed worm from the East and to use such formal titles seemed... almost heartless. Seeing him begin to stir the fire she silently chuckled and settled back onto the log. It seemed he had changed his mind, but it was a decision she was truly glad of.

Mac. Sir Julien. No drop the Sir... would he just be Julien then? She soundlessly tried the name on her lips but didn't like the feel of it. The name didn't roll off of her tongue as it should. Hadn't there been another he went by when around his family. Icey? Nay truly not for he was no more icy than the hot fire at his toes. Hah! She scoffed, her eyes trailing up the curve of his spine as he bent over the fire, then out over the toned shoulders of a swordsman. If there was anything that man wasn't is was cold. But what... was..... AHA! GRAVE! Her head cocked to the side while her brain whirled, trying to decide why it was they would call him Grave. Perhaps it was due to his courage in battle and the number of men he sent to theirs. Grave. Her lips, ripe with his kisses rolled over the name, and without pushing air through her vocal cords Mac realized this was what felt right to her.

He'd stopped talking. Oh holy jah! He'd been talking and even asked her a question while her mind was busily contemplating his name, and her eyes were... well... innocently complimenting his physique. What was it? What had he been saying? She'd been listening. Surely she had it was just the wheels in her brain overpowered his words. How could she have not... AHHH!!! She found them hidden behind a bouncing sign labeled "Grave". "Mac, tell me of your family. Who are your mother and father?... I have no family... they're commoners.... I am a simple man."

Ah! He wanted to know of her family. A smile did curl her lips that time and for a moment she wandered back in time.

"Aye, weel. I wus born in a grant manor home in a village called Kiltality but was raised wi' me Da, me Uncle and brothers at Beaufort castle in the Hielan's. Tis ah awfu lang way frae 'ere. Me Mither... I dinna mind her verra much noo, she passed on when I was but a bairn a' the age o' six. Twas me Da and Uncle that raised me..."

Stretching, Mac straightened her leg out to barely press against his thigh with her booted toe. The touch was, however, enough to draw his attention so that she may see his face and her own lit in a warm smile.

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