In his drowsy state Rhys thinks little of hearing those words, and simply draws the woman closer with a small, content sound deep in his throat. As the seconds pass and wakefulness settles over him...he begins to realize that he's no longer married, and that his bed should be empty save for himself.
Other little details come back as well, and his grey eyes flash open. He flings aside the blankets, and frantically checks the mattress, the pillows--and her--for claw marks, while she stares up at him in surprise. "I, ah--" He clears his throat. It seems everything's fine...other than the fact that he's woken up with Miss Winthrope and has no idea why. "Good morning," he finishes lamely.
After the sights and sounds of the Faire, his room was a welcome refuge. He dropped into a chair, slid his glasses off and set them on the small table, and ran a hand over his face. It hadn't been unpleasant...quite the opposite. The bright lights and fireworks had been festive, the food had been good, and the company even better. But for someone who could hear and see and smell acutely, it became too much after a while.
As Rhys sat, the quiet soothing his overstimulated nerves, his mind went over the night's events. It had gone better than he'd thought it would. He'd learned that Koirah could have fun, and they'd both opened up a little, about their pasts. They had talked, without council business in the way, and he found himself less intimidated. When conversation tuned more personal...
They'd both turned away, more than once, when caught looking at the other. He still didn't know what to do about that--if he was supposed to make some sort of move, or not. In the end, he'd chosen not. She still hadn't had the chance to see him as he really was, and he dared not believe she could feel anything for him until she did.
Rhys sat in the cathedral, deep in thought. It had been a rough couple of days--the mission to Fort Livingston had not gone well. Out of six who'd left the rebel camp, only he and Koirah had made it to the fort. Two of their group had died, two had fled...and though one of those who'd fled turned up at the fort, it was no comfort.
Cowards.
At least Rhys had tried--untrained in combat, he'd swung his mace with all the grace of a lumberjack. He'd managed to drive off one raptor, but had found himself bowled over by a troll intent on skewering him with a spear. His almost shield-like pauldron had kept the spear from penetrating, but he still had a large bruise to show for it.
He'd tended to the dead upon their return, and they'd since been laid to rest by another priest. He'd been able to do that much at least. He felt like something of a disappointment, and had said as much to one of his fellow priests.
"The Church needs all sorts of priests," he'd been told. "It needs those who can wield a weapon and sear foes with Holy Light, yes...but there are enough fighters who've found faith and paladins who've lost the ability to wear armor to fill that role. It also needs those who can rouse the populace through righteous sermons. But that isn't what you are either."
The priest smiled at him. "We've talked before, you and I. You led a life as husband and father, and your role in the church is the sort that's hard to come by in these combative times. You listen, and you care, and sometimes that matters more than anything else."
The words had brought some comfort, he supposed. And that Koirah had arranged for guards suggested that he hadn't been expected to shoulder the responsibility for getting them there safely. But when it came right down to it, he didn't know what she wanted, really--both in regards to the trip itself, and in general. On the one hand, she was a highly-principled scholar who was devoted to her work, to the exclusion of any consideration of starting a family. On the other...
It was becoming clear that she wanted him to notice her, for reasons he could make no sense of. He had nothing she could possibly want--he was an amateur scholar at best, and he was not wealthy, or powerful, or even unusually charismatic (as evidenced by his inability to string words together around her). He was a family man, and the complete opposite of what he would figure for her match. Which meant either that he was completely misreading the situation, or that he was completely misreading her.
In which case, their trip to the Faire was bound to be interesting.
It had only been three weeks since Rhys had last allowed himself to assume his worgen form. Well, not allowed, really. It had gotten away from him, after the encounter with Malathius. He was not at the point yet where it began to feel like a need, and yet...
He was about to go to Stranglethorn, on a mission which could turn dangerous. And given his emotional state lately, he thought maybe it would be best if he spent the day elsewhere, and got it out of his system early. It was also a good excuse to avoid running into Koirah.
As he traveled south, heading for the forests of Duskwood where one more worgen wouldn't attract notice, his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of the mage. He wasn't sure in what fit of madness he'd asked her out. He'd carefully avoided calling it a date, but still--the two of them going to the Faire, it was what it was. He could only blame the drink, because he wouldn't have had the nerve otherwise.
He did feel a small twinge of guilt at considering dating again, but on the whole...he and his wife had discussed what they would do if the other died. It was one of those talks that needed to happen once there was a child. And he and Elizabeth had both agreed that the other should move on, not just for their daughter, but for themselves. Because they loved each other, and it was simply too cruel to wish a loveless life on the other should the worst happen. So it wasn't that.
Nor was it second thoughts about Koirah herself--quite the contrary. Not only was she a beautiful woman, but from the start he'd been impressed with her good judgment and principles, and it hadn't taken long to realize that she was also intelligent and generous. She opened up rooms in her home to those on the council who needed, himself included...and that was part of the problem.
Koirah was the sort of woman who could attract suitors with significantly more wealth or influence than he had. It had only been a few scant years since he'd fled Gilneas, and he still felt like a refugee. He'd taken up the mantle of priest as much to help himself as to help others. It had given him something to believe in at a time when he'd lost everything, even hope. But for the most part he'd lived on what charity the church provided, and now...even though he held the position of chief medic for the council, he had a hard time seeing himself as a proper suitor for her. At best he worked for her, at worst he was another charity case. And that wasn't the sort of man a woman like her would look at twice.
Rhys set those thoughts aside with a sigh, as he entered a small clearing. This change would come when he allowed it, so there was time...time to remove shoes and socks, jacket and tie. To set them in the grass, to (hopefully) be retrieved afterward.
He hated this part. Hated that it wasn't a matter of trying to bring on a change, but a matter of letting go, becoming what he feared was his real self now. He hated that it felt like human Rhys was an illusion he clung to, and that whatever he had been...had never truly left Gilneas. This was the first time he'd done this without it being on the verge of happening without his consent, and he found himself more aware of the change--
And aware afterward.
He sat on his haunches in the grass, staring at hands covered in fur so dark grey it was almost black, twice their size and tipped in wicked claws. He turned his hands over to look at his palms and curled his fingers, even as his ears twitched at small sounds in the trees. Sight, hearing and smell were all more sensitive in this form. Yet...he was still himself, so far as he could tell.
CDev Response: The worgen curse is exactly that: a curse. Its origins are rooted in the druidic “pack form” that was later altered by the Scythe of Elune. The end result is the worgen we see today, beings that can transmit their affliction to others via a single bite.
In theory, if two worgen were to mate and produce an offspring, that offspring would not be a worgen. The child would merely possess the genetic material of his or her parents, like any other child sans the curse.
Rhys has spent the evening in reflection--first in a couple of drinks at a tavern in Old Town, then in prayer at the cathedral...but as he leaves he runs right into the woman he's been trying to chase from his thoughts.
You nod at Winthrope.
Winthrope was squinting at a rather shiny armored man far across the way until he disappeared around a corner. Slowly turning her gaze back towards the Cathedral, she jumps visibly. "...Rhys." She placed a hand over her chest, sighing with a smirk. "If I didn't know any better after the last time, I'd think you were trying to give me a heart attack."
Ashbrook shakes his head somewhat sheepishly. "Not at all," he says. He still has a string of prayer beads in one hand--he stuffs them into a pocket. "I was just--clearing my head a little. Didn't think I'd find you here."
Winthrope bites softly on her lower lip, her brows furrowed in a curious manner as she took a moment to look him over. "I was just taking a break from my walk." She motions towards the road alongside the Cathedral, back towards where the cemetery lie. "Visiting family."
Winthrope says: That sort of thing.
Ashbrook nods, and looks in that direction somewhat wistfully. "Ah..." he says. "It must bring you some comfort at least, to be able to do that."
Winthrope's big brown eyes return to rest upon Rhys, a look of question within them. "... I suppose." She answered. The look of question faded and turned into one that was apologetic. "I hope you didn't take that as me gloating."
Ashbrook steps closer--near enough that he doesn't need to raise his voice like a hooligan, but hopefully not so close that she can tell he's been drinking. "No, not at all," he assures her. He gestures toward the cemetery. "I actually enjoy spending time in there. It's quiet, and the flowers are well-tended."
Winthrope hung her head a moment, unsure of why she even thought he might think she was gloating. A little embarrassed, her cheeks flushed lightly. "I am surprised we haven't bumped into one another out there then. For the reason of its solitude, I find I can do some of my best thinking." She cleared her throat softly, looking to him again with a little more confidence. She had not yet smelled the booze. "I ..hope your night is faring well."
Ashbrook shrugs, offering the mage a small smile. "Well enough. I'm trying to make it a point to see more of the city. Though it seemed quiet...I suspect people are at the Faire."
Winthrope regards the area quietly, noting the area thinner of people than what it normally is so early in the evening. Inhaling deeply, she nodded in agreement. "That's quite possible. I suppose it gives others something to do other than bumbling around here."
Winthrope smiles.
Ashbrook nods. "I suppose. One month I'll have to see what the fuss is about. I've heard stories about the food...both good and bad."
Winthrope smirks, "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I have yet to see what all of the hub bub is about with the Faire. I suppose I've never quite had time for such things." Glancing down at her gloved fingers, she laughed softly. "Perhaps you could tell me what it's like if you happen to go. I could live vicariously through you even."
Ashbrook looks briefly started, no doubt surprised that she'd never been. "I could do that," he agrees. "Or perhaps--" and this was totally the alcohol talking "--we could see what it's all about sometime. Together. Call it...research. Or something."
Ashbrook flushes slightly pink.
Winthrope blinks slowly, trying to process the offer that just came from nowhere. Nowhere she expected at least. Finally, a wide grin just grew along her face, allowing it to sink in. Maybe she'd get her jollies in teasing him. It certainly would make her feel less awkward. "Research? Yes. Or you could just call it what it really is."
Ashbrook clears his throat, and reaches up to scratch the back of his neck nervously. "Call it...what it really is...?" He'd been trying to avoid doing just that.
Winthrope just looks at him in slight disbelief. Even he didn't catch onto her joke - or was it a somewhat hopeful tease? Nevertheless, she knew she had to think of something quick to get out of this! "Well-" she laughed nervously. "Observation of the lesser classes. That's what I meant."
Ashbrook blinks. "Oh," he says. "Oh. Yes, of course." He clears his throat again, his blush deepening. "Well, in any case, in the interest of seeking out knowledge and new experiences and all that..." Light, he really wasn't keeping it together tonight.
Winthrope looks down at her shoes, frowning with small disappointment. She must have sounded quite stupid there for a moment. "Maybe I will take you up on this invitation," she answered - her cheeks beginning to burn.
Ashbrook nods, a little too quickly. "Good. That's...good. I don't know if it would be more appropriate...before or after the trip to Stranglethorn."
Winthrope nods thoughtfully, "Yes, probably after. Would at least give me something to look forward to once we have finished the trip and moved onto the research aspect of it."
Ashbrook flushes slightly pink again. She was going to look forward to it. He clears his throat. "Very well. I think it should be rather enjoyable, with good company." He looks down at his attire. "I'll wear something less...priestly."
Winthrope smirks, offering him a subtle wink. It wasn't anything different than what she may normally do in a conversation when she was getting ready to speak about herself. "I'd offer to dress a little more casual, but why would I do that? All of this effort is always worth it."
It certainly was. Rhys has been trying very hard not to stare. "Your new robes, they...compliment you very well," he manages to say.
Winthrope smiles at him, not saying a word back for the longest of moments. Finally, she looked down at herself with a faint reddening of her cheeks. "You think so?"
Ashbrook nods wordlessly, his gaze following hers down...before he abruptly glances away. No. He would not ogle her here of all places. He rubs a hand over his face. No ogling at all, come to think of it. "I do," he finally answers her.
Winthrope takes a step closer and turns to her left and then around to her right - giving him a better view of her garments. "Fits like a dream, wouldn't you say? Look at this detail." She smirked.
Ashbrook can feel the heat in his cheeks--he needs no mirror to know that he's beet red. "I, ah--my compliments to your tailor," he manages to say. "You're--I mean, the robes are--exquisite." If he's lucky, the ground will open up and swallow him now.
Winthrope even turns her back to him - letting him get a view of the dress detail from that angle. She looks over her shoulder at him with an innocent smile. "Well, I do think you could give him a run for his money," she said, turning back to face him.
Ashbrook clears his throat again. "You're too kind," he says, his gaze snapping up to her face when she turns back to him. Yes, he'd looked.
Winthrope clasps her hands together neatly before her, seemingly satisfied with herself. "Did you manage a good look?" She inquired coolly.
"I, ah--" He doesn't know what to say to that, as she'd wanted him to look, and yet it didn't feel very gentlemanly at all. "Quite lovely...from all angles," he finally agrees. Hopefully she'd take it to mean the robes.
Winthrope bowed her head towards him with a pleased smile. Whether she was pleased with his words or herself, that remained to be seen. "I will let him know you enjoy his work. And on that note, I should be on my way."
Ashbrook bows slightly in return. "Of course. Good night," he says, still obviously flustered.
Winthrope walked away with a satisfied smirk on her face. "Yes, good night, Rhys."
Winthrope flashes a warm, welcoming smile towards the pair - her head bowed briefly towards them in greeting. "Why, hello you two. I am pleased to see you could make it."
Alylia smiles and quickly nods " We tried our best to make it! "
Aurïa bows his head, "Indeed we did, it is pleasant to see you again."
Ashbrook sneaks up, hoping not to interrupt.
Winthrope catches sight of Rhys approaching. She eyes him once before looking away quickly - yet speaking to him all the same! "Uh - yes, welcome M-mister Ashbrook to you as well." She clears her throat loudly. "Yes. Good to see you two as well!"
Alylia tilts her head, confused with the woman's reaction. She looks over her shoulder and quickly waves to the man, just trying to be polite.
Winthrope says: Three. Yes. Three of you.
Aurïa nudges Aly gently, pulling her to one of the benches, nodding to the man respectfully.
Ashbrook nods, flushing slightly. "Good evening, Miss Winthrope. And to the rest of you as well."
Alylia quickly moves where she's pulled, just about throwing herself onto the bench.
Ashbrook settles onto a bench, which conveniently keeps him from facing Koirah directly.
The small stack of papers in Koirah's hands tremble lightly; smoke suddenly arising from one of the corners. Smelling the smoke, she looks down in question. Quick as lightning, she wets her fingers with her tongue and extinguishes the would-be small fire before anyone might notice. "Yes, make yourselves comfortable. Just waiting to see who might join us before I begin any official speaking."
Aurïa searches through his bags a moment, the small ornaments clanking together noisily before he tapped Alylia on the shoulder, handing her a cookie.
Winthrope says: I hope the each of you have been faring well.
Alylia-WyrmrestAccord quickly looks back as if the city was on fire behind her, blinks when she saw the cookie. She takes it and nibbles quietly on it.
Ashbrook finds his new robes particularly fascinating. Where -did- he pick up that lint? Pick, pick... He glances up briefly. "Well enough," he says, before lapsing into silence again.
Malathius says: Am I late?
Winthrope says: Ah, and here comes another now. No. Just in time, Malathius. Please, have a seat if you wish.
Malathius says: I'll stand, thanks.
Aurïa takes another cookie out for himself, eating it slowly, "We've fared well enough...our brother is beginning to recover, slowly." he bows his head to Malathius.
Winthrope straightens up in recognition of the ill brother. How had she forgotten this? Oh, there were likely a few reasons. She eyes Rhys briefly before turning to Auria. "That is wonderful news. A full recovery, I take it?"
Malathius loosens the tight leather around his neck, coughing awkwardly.
Ashbrook turns to Malathius. "I do hope you are feeling better?" he asks.
Alylia smiles and nods, taking the one moment she didn't have her mouth full to reply " Much better, and.. sadly already back out working."
Aurïa says: Idiot refuses to stop working...
Winthrope smiled, nodding her head. "Well, such is the way of the ambitious, I suppose." With a soft chuckle, she turned again and shuffled the small stack of paperwork in her hands. "Right. So, to business, I suppose."
Malathius looks up from his feet, turning to Rhys. "Oh.. uhh, yeah. That incident is in the past."
Winthrope gives Malathius a critical look. "I should hope that is where it stays."
Malathius looks at Koira and mumbles.
Winthrope raises her eyebrow inquisitively at Malathius.
Alylia looks between the two, nibbling on her cookie again.
Ashbrook nods, looking a little uncomfortable. It hadn't been -his- shining moment either. "That's good," he murmurs.
Winthrope says: What was that?
Malathius says: Sorry what?
Aurïa taps Aly's shoulder, "Crumbs." he points to her dress.
Ceallach arches a brow slowly, stepping up next to Koira.
Alylia looks down to her lap, letting out a small squeak before gathering up the crumbs, literally picking them up one by one and eating them.
Aurïa sighs, shaking his head, "Alylia...." he looks to the new comer a moment.
Winthrope frowned lightly and shook her head. Upon noticing Rosalind, Koirah inclines her head towards her. "Ah, Miss Ceallach! I am pleased to see you. Well then, let us begin - as my first bit of news has to do with our newly appointed secondary oversight."
Ceallach says: Apparently I did something to warrant it. So.. Fun?
Winthrope says: As my secondary oversight, Miss Ceallach will not only work with those who join for guardianship purposes, but with recent headaches and my will to see our institution keep its respectable status - help keep everyone else in line.
Winthrope eyes Malathius up and down.
Malathius winks slyly at Winthrope.
Ashbrook looks a little bit guilty himself...
Aurïa listens, watching those around him before turning his gaze to Alylia.
Ceallach grins slowly. "So keep in line. Or I'll make you run laps.. or.. do squats.. Something unpleasant."
Ceallach says: Clean out the basement with a tooth brush.. I dunno. I'll get creative.
Malathius says: Speaking off, is my blood still down there?
Malathius looks at you.
Winthrope smiled coolly with a nod of her head. "Yes. I think some extra work around the residence would help our hardworking staff greatly. Light knows they could use a break from time to time."
Ashbrook looks startled. "I keep a clean infirmary...there is no blood down there."
Alylia brushes what's left of the crumbs off of her dress, not quite understanding the cleaning was punishment " I can help with that."
Malathius gives Rhys a firm slap on the back. "Well if you ever need some, you know where to turn."
Winthrope says: With your newest advisor's slight shift in responsibilities, Mister Ashbrook here has been appointed our chief medic. Though, given the notices I sent out, I am sure you are all well up to date with that by now.
Ashbrook-WyrmrestAccord looks at the man, perplexed. "Why would I need..."
Winthrope says: Routine physicals will be given. I expect them. This will not only keep each and everyone of you in proper condition to do whatever it is you need to do. And more importantly, mental checks frequently.
Winthrope eyes Malathius again.
Malathius winks at Koira again.
Ceallach says: Thank the Light I'm not chief medic anymore.. I would have ignored that..
Ashbrook shifts his gaze to Rosalind, arching a brow slightly.
Ceallach shrugs lightly. "Ehh.. I'm the kind of medic that slaps a bandage on things and tells you to suck it up."
Winthrope looks around, "Speaking of which - we are missing a couple of newer inductees." With an annoyed look, she glances back down to the paperwork she held. "I trust each of you have already received your notices in regards to the situation to our south?"
Malathius pulls a small circular tablet out of his pocket, flipping it casually. "I believe so".
Ashbrook-WyrmrestAccord nods.
Malathius says: But just to be safe.. brief me?
Ashbrook says: Do we know yet when we will be leaving?
Aurïa nods slowly, staring at the floor, somewhat lost in thought.
Ashbrook turns to look at Malathius in disbelief.
Malathius shrugs at Rhys. "What?"
Winthrope shook her head, "Not set in stone just yet. I would imagine within the next few days. I am arranging for an escort from Fort Livingston to meet up with us to make our travel a little safer. That being said, I am awaiting word on what that checkpoint might be." She cleared her throat a little and looked at Malathius with an annoyed expression. "I'd advise you to read over your notice again or visit the bulletin at the institution."
Ceallach says: I've been overlooking some routes I think will be safest, and garnish the most protection for both our group and the escort.
Winthrope nods at Rosalind, "Very good. Now, all that really remains to do from here is to assemble our group that will be joining us."
Winthrope looks to each person expectantly. "This is a dangerous situation we will be involving ourselves in. If you request to assist, I urge you to not make this decision lightly."
Malathius dabs some sudden sweat from his forehead with a small cloth. He seemed suprised at its presence.
Ashbrook says: You still have my assistance, Miss Winthrope.
Malathius mumbles "If I knew what it waaaaaaas..."
Winthrope looks to Alylia and Auria, "I know the two of you have been dealing with more personal matters with your brother - and I am sure you will want to remain around should he have need of you again. That is why, if you decide you wish to opt out of this journey, I have taken the liberty to permit each of you to join me with any research conducted afterwards."
Alylia quickly looks behind her, staring at Auri, not saying a word.
Malathius wipes his brow again. "I don't feel well, excuse me". He rushes off.
Ashbrook says: I know who's getting the first physical...
Winthrope smirks slyly at you.
Aurïa sighs, just nodding to Alylia, clearly a bit worried.
Winthrope says: Mister Ashbrook.
Ashbrook nods. "Yes, Miss Winthrope?"
Alylia smiles, turning back and waiting to speak.
Winthrope says: I will need you on hand as well to assist with the research. I aim to do another examination of Fisc's remains. Leave no stone unturned. This has been a formal request of Neile.
Ashbrook bows his head slightly. "Of course, Miss Winthrope. I'd be glad to assist in any way I can."
Winthrope says: Are there any questions thus far?
Ceallach says: Do I get a raise with my promotion?
A sly smirk spreads across Ceallach's face.
Alylia says: We'll be joining you, for anything we can help with.
Aurïa says: Be it in battle or research, we can help with anything you may need.
Ashbrook clears his throat and shakes his head...and blushes for some odd reason.
Winthrope glances to Rosalind, "Well, with the promotion - you have acquired a larger living space just as Mister Ashbrook has. Should you have need of it. As well as any resources you need." Looking back to both Alylia and Auria, she smiles, though looks a little concerned towards Alylia mostly. She was young. Naturally, Koirah worried for her safety. "I will take that into regard. We do need the numbers."
Ceallach says: I was joking. You didn't have to take me seriously.
Winthrope smirks slyly at Ceallach.
Winthrope says: Well, it is a perk received.
Aurïa leans forward, whispering to Alylia.
Alylia nods towards Auri. "Do.. you think he'll be mad?"
Aurïa smirks, nudging her a bit and whispering to her.
Winthrope says: Given our trip to the south, I may need to push the instructional teachings on Monday evening onto one of my peers.
Ashbrook nods. "Understandable."
Alylia quickly covers her mouth and nods, looking back towards Koirah.
Winthrope regards Alylia again, her brow arched quite high. "I want to touch again on how dangerous this trip will be."
Alylia lowers her arm into her lap, nodding " We understand, fully. "
Aurïa nods, looking to Alylia, "She will be very well protected, I assure you."
Winthrope says: I need you, above all others, to understand that. There will be no room for second-guessing once we are out there.
Winthrope-WyrmrestAccord nods to Auria.
Aurïa leans his head back onto the tree, closing his eyes and resting each hand on his knees, with a heavy sigh.
Winthrope glances to Rosalind, "Well, I believe that is all I had to cover for the moment. Is there anything you want to add?" She looks to Rhys as well, questioningly. "Or you?"
Ashbrook shakes his head. "No...I'll be sure to be appropriately geared. I'd sooner be prepared for the worst than not."
Ashbrook says: Seriously though...Malathius needs a physical as soon as I can arrange it.
Winthrope says: Yes. I absolutely agree. Please make it a point to force him into one as soon as you can. If he refuses, send him to Miss Ceallach to deal with.
Winthrope says: Maybe she can beat some sense into him.
Winthrope winks slyly at Ceallach.
Alylia shifts around uncomfortably, staying silent.
Ashbrook nods. "Understood."
Ceallach says: I'll cook up something extra annoying for him if he backs out.
Aurïa inches his way down, almost tripping as he did, but keeping balance; sitting by Alylia.
Winthrope looks off into the direction he ran off into earlier and shakes her head, annoyed with even the thought of him. "Well, I believe that is all I wanted to press upon this evening that was of immediate importance. Are there any questions or concerns any of you with to bring up? Now is a great time."
Alylia shakes her head, lowering her head and staring at her lap.
Ashbrook says: Ah...no, Miss Winthrope.
Winthrope's eyes move to each person - though the last person she looks at is Rhys. Her cheeks began to burn already and she immediately brought her papers up over her face; concealing it from view. "Very well then."
Winthrope says: Well then, you all are free to be dismissed and carry on about your evenings as you wish.
Winthrope says: Thank you for joining me this evening.
Aurïa stretches a bit, flinching as he did. He looked to Aly, a bit uncomfortable as he patted her leg, "I'll be back in a second, you can wander if you want, I'll catch up."
Ashbrook doesn't even notice, because the question that -is- on his mind is making it hard to look her way. He clears his throat at the dismissal. "it was a pleasure, Miss Winthrope."
Alylia watches Auri walk off, awkwardly looking around, staying put.
Winthrope's paperwork vanishes from sight and she promptly smooths out her elegant robes. Feeling a bit awkward, she tried not to look at Rhys - though it was difficult not to do! With an awkward smile to everyone, she made her way off. "I am just going to enjoy an evening time stroll before I retire. Have a pleasant evening, everyone."
Alylia flails about when she spots Auri, quickly getting up and rushing over to him before climbing onto his back.
Ashbrook says: I think I'm going to head back to the house. Good night, you two.
Rhys found some relief in the privacy of his room after he left Koirah. The window was open, allowing a pleasant breeze to cool the room, and as he read quietly and sipped a cup of tea the heat in his cheeks faded, and he grew slightly less mortified with his behavior. He didn't recall ever meeting a woman who could with one breath offer encouragement, and with the other make him feel he hadn't a chance. But then again, she was the first woman he'd met since he'd fled Gilneas that made him feel he wanted a chance.
He set the book aside with a soft sigh and stood, crossing the room to close the window most of the way. Then there were lamps to be snuffed, and only when it was dark did he undress for bed. All of his awkward statements replayed in his head as he lay down, pulling the covers over himself. Had he really complimented her form so overtly? He wiped a hand over his face. Light, he was acting like a love-sick schoolboy. He wasn't sure he'd ever been so clumsy with Elizabeth.
He lifted his hand from his face, and gave a start as he saw her form silhouetted in the faint light from the window. No, not her... As his pulse steadied, he realized his error. That damned mannequin--it was still set to her shape. With a groan he rolled over, and flung an arm up to shield his face for good measure. To his surprise, sleep found him easily.
There was no preamble, just soft flesh under his hands. Neither of them were nude--yet his chest was bare, and her legs, as she straddled him. His fingertips gripped her thighs a little tighter, as if questioning whether or not she was real.
"Koirah, when did you..." --come to my room, he'd meant to ask, but as he lifted his head she lowered hers, and his words were lost to their heated kiss. It was some time before he pulled back, staring at her with mild astonishment. Could it possibly be...that she also wanted...
His hands slid along her flesh, following her curves until they settled at the small of her back, under the short silk nightgown she wore. The very notion that she wanted him also gave him courage, and he abruptly rolled, so that she was beneath him.
She gasped softly in surprise--he thought from the sudden movement, until she reached up to lay a hand on the side of his face. "Rhys...your eyes..."
He froze. No... He hadn't even noticed that the room seemed less dark. He didn't need a mirror to know what she saw...that his eyes had changed, had bled from a soft grey to a clear and inhuman shade of amber, almost like molten gold.
Rhys woke with a start, his uncoordinated movements knocking his glasses off the bedside table and onto the floor. He swore softly, flipping the covers aside and swinging his legs over to set feet on the floor. For a moment he just sat there, his eyes adjusting to the dark, his pulse still racing.
Damn it all.
He fumbled for his glasses, and groped his way through the dim room to a lamp, lighting it. He blinked in the sudden light, and found the nearest mirror, peering at his reflection. Grey. His eyes were still grey... He'd been terrified the dream alone, vivid as it had been, had brought on a change. He hung his head, both profoundly relieved, and full of dread.
There was no denying that he had feelings for her. But how could he possibly think that she returned them, when she hadn't seen what he really was?
Winthrope walks into the room, not really looking around or paying any mind whatsoever to anything around here. Turning to the wall, she sets her staff against it and then removes her cloak; hanging it on a hook.
Ashbrook peers over the top of his book. "Good afternoon, Miss Winthrope," he says softly, turning the page.
Winthrope starts at Rhys's voice coming from behind her. Doing her best to play it off, she inhaled a deep, calming breath - bowed her head down towards the floor and closed her eyes. When she finally opened her eyes, she turned around with a forced smile of confidence. "Ah, Mister Ashbrook! I did not see you there."
Ashbrook lowers the book, setting it flat on the table. No more hiding! He clears his throat. "Yes, well, I...do try not to be disruptive."
Winthrope moves across the room towards the table and takes a seat across from him. Squinting lightly in thought, she gave him a quick once over. "I'm not disrupting anything, am I?"
Ashbrook shakes his head, finding it so much easier to look at her now that she's in something other than that dress. "Not at all, Miss Winthrope. I, ah--" He clears his throat again. "I haven't been sleeping well, so I thought a little reading might help."
Winthrope gives the book he was a reading a quick glance - seeing whatever she could of a title if one was indeed there. "Seems to be going around lately. Sleep hasn't come to m..." Her eyes widen slightly at her near slip. "My friend. Though, I believe we're onto something with this dreamless sleep potion. Yes. Quite onto something!"
Winthrope crosses one dainty leg over the other and proceeds to smooth out the lap of her robes, looking down with a silent sigh of relief. With a nod, she found herself able to function a little better now. "Yes. I suppose moving from one place to another can disrupt certain patterns." Lifting her chin, she looked across the way at him with an arched brow, "I trust you are adapting well to a larger space at least?"
Ashbrook nods. "Oh yes...I already have plans to set up a sewing machine and get a second mannequin--the one I have is only suited to the female form. And beyond that...the furnishings are quite nice. The bed--" He pauses, though the thought is innocent. "Is much more comfortable. That's no doubt why I'm having trouble," he finishes lamely.
Winthrope laughed softly, "You're not use to a comfortable bed?" Her thoughts were not so innocent.
Ashbrook coughs again. He really should have brought a drink down with him. "Well, back in Gilneas, yes--but the quarters provided by the church when I arrived in the city were fairly spartan, and the bed in my original room here was on the smaller side, given that it was part of a bunk bed..."
Winthrope nodded as she sat there listening to him. She continued to smooth out the lap of her robes a bit obsessively, looking down once again. "Well, I certainly hope you are able to get use to the comfort. I wouldn't simply give such larger space away to those undeserving of it."
Ashbrook takes his glasses off, and busies himself cleaning them on the sleeve of his robe. They're not dirty, but it's something to do with his hands. He glances up at her. "I certainly appreciate the gesture, Miss Winthrope." He slips his glasses back on. "And I read that correspondence you mentioned."
Winthrope blinks in recognition. How had she forgotten that so easily? "Oh, yes..." she looked to him - a slight twinge of sadness to her gaze. She felt terrible. "Horrible thing what happened."
Ashbrook nods, leaning forward slightly. "I will, of course, accompany you to Stranglethorn."
Winthrope looks at him, a weak smile forming. "I certainly appreciate it. I doubt they are looking spare the few medics they do keep down in Fort Livingston. I just hope we won't need any form of medical back-up."
Ashbrook sighs softly. "That's always the hope, but--given the nature of what's happened, there's no way I could not go with you," he says, before quickly adding, "And whoever else is coming with us."
Winthrope rests her hands on the table and looks down to the few rings she wore. Not really looking at them, just in thought. With a sigh, she drooped her shoulders a bit. "Fisc was a good man. He didn't deserve to go the way that he did."
Ashbrook says: I'm sorry I didn't get to meet him. But I'll do my part to make sure he's properly laid to rest at least.
Winthrope exhaled a shaky breath - doing her best to keep her emotions in check. Her eyes watered but no tears fell - thankfully Koirah mastered the art of not-crying in public. "Thank you, Mister Ashbrook. I suspect we'll be leaving over the weekend."
Ashbrook finds himself reaching out with his hand, but that table is too long for him to lay a reassuring hand anywhere. Instead he lays it on the opened book instead, and closes it. "I'll make sure I'm ready, then," he says. His gaze is sympathetic. "I take it the two of you were close, then."
Winthrope catches sight of his hand movement with a small, hardly noticeable glance. When she saw the book closing, she immediately looked back to her hands. The small distraction did seem to aid in calming her some. "There was a time when I thought he might ask my sister's hand." She responded, finding herself smiling at the thought. "He was closer to her than he was to me. Though, we were close enough, I suppose."
Ashbrook folds his hands together on the tabletop. "Ah, your sister. I haven't had the chance to meet her, yet."
Winthrope smirks, "Well, if there's one thing about her - she's not the marrying sort of woman. No more than I am, I suppose." Pushing a piece of hair back behind her ear, she looked upwards. "Actually, she's worse."
Winthrope says: So, you can only imagine the relationship she shared with Fisc.
Ashbrook chuckles softly, lowering his gaze. "Well, it says something about his character, I suppose--that he was not daunted."
Winthrope leans back into her chair with her arms folded over her chest. She can't help but smirk at her response. "Neile may not find it sexy, but I do love a persistent man. Suppose that's where we differ. Though, I didn't find him very appealing, personally."
Ashbrook looks back up at her. "Persistence is a good thing," he agrees, "Especially in these adverse times..."
Winthrope looks back at him. A small smirk lingered on her face as she stared at him, unsure of what else to say to that. "I... yes, I suppose so."
Ashbrook flushed slightly under her gaze--not certain at all about what that little smirk meant. "In any case...you can count on me, Miss Winthrope." For the mission to Stranglethorn, he meant. Of course.
Winthrope didn't quite notice the faint blush - but there was a change to his face that made her think twice. Relaxing her hands on her knee, she inclined her dark head towards him. "Please, call me Koirah. It feels so motherly being called Miss."
Ashbrook gives a single nod of his head, almost a bow of sorts. "As you wish, Miss--ah, Koirah." This was going to be a hard habit to break. "But if so, then you must call me Rhys," he adds with a smile.
Winthrope flushed and it was noticeable. The moment she felt the heat radiating off of her cheeks, she lowered her head, smiling at hearing him use her first name. "Rhys it is then."
Ashbrook clears his throat again. It must be particularly dry today... "Yes, well--I suppose we know each other well enough to move past such formality."
Winthrope just keeps looking at her lap. The heat was still there on her cheeks and she was definitely not looking up to reveal the complexion change. How embarrassing. "Well, according to your eye with proper proportions - I'd say you know me better than I thought." She said with a hidden smirk. She couldn't help herself!
Ashbrook makes a small, half-strangled sound. He'd almost managed to forget that dress, and how it had flattered her...proportions. His own cheeks flush red. "Well, I am not a novice tailor," he manages, once he can speak again.
Winthrope chances a glance across the way to him - more so at the strange sound he made. She notices the complexion change on him as well - and can't help but smirk more. She tries, in her most sincere tone to say, "I'm sorry. That was a bit much. I just - well, no, you're not a novice."
Ashbrook just stares at her a moment, feeling like he was in quite over his head. He didn't recall ever feeling so off-balance in talking to anyone before. "I am pleased that you liked the gown," he says. "And now that you know the quality of my work, perhaps I can see to more of your tailoring needs in the future."
Winthrope stares right back at him - not shying away this time. She might have enjoyed seeing him uncomfortable in that moment. It humored her - and it even made her feel a little better about all of the thoughts she was having. "Well, I do have to say that I am an admirer of your work now. How much do you charge?" She smirked softly, taking a moment to look at her fingernails. "Name your price."
Ashbrook blinks. He hadn't even gotten that far yet, as far as prices went. He was not familiar with the prices other tailors in Stormwind were charging compared to those in Gilneas. "Well, really--it comes down to the materials being used, and the complexity of the design."
Winthrope bats her long eyelashes at him - doing her best to lighten up the mood. Regardless of what others thought, she did have a silly side. "Wonder if I could get some sort of a discount."
Ashbrook might be staring, just a little. "I--absolutely, Miss Winth--ah, Koirah," he says, catching himself at the last minute.
Winthrope tries her best to keep her eyes locked with his, but a sudden moment of weakness - perhaps fear of what may happen next had gripped her too much, and so she looked down at her lap again. Her cheeks burned.
Winthrope says: Nonsense... y-you will receive every coin those crafty hands deserve.
Winthrope gulps. She commented on his hands.
Ashbrook has to look away--he can feel the heat rising in his cheeks again. It's the sort of flush he's only ever gotten from a night of particularly drinking. He looks down at his hands, callouses and all. "Nonsense," he murmurs. "If we're on a first name basis now, I'm sure I can manage a discount for you as well."
Winthrope never noticed how blue the stone in her binding ring was. Huh. How pretty. She just stares at it - trying to fight back many scenarios running through her mind. "You're too kind."
Ashbrook clears his throat again. It was rapidly becoming a new nervous habit. "I suppose it would be good...for building a reputation I mean, for my designs to be seen around the city. Particularly if they're worn by someone with such superb...proportions."
As quick as lightning, Koirah's attention snaps right up to Rhys once more. Her brown eyes wide. There was no way she heard him correctly! She just stares at him in disbelief for a moment - unaware how red her face was right now. The apples hanging from the trees around the city would be jealous. "...you really think so?" She questioned breathlessly. How stupid she must have sounded. And of course she already knew the answer to that herself!
Ashbrook nods and shifts slightly in his seat, so that the candelabra between them blocks his face a little. "I think...a lot of my female clients back in Gilneas would have counted themselves blessed had they your form," he says--and is instantly mortified. Blessed? Was that any way for a priest to be describing a woman's shape? "I mean simply that...well..." He clears his throat again.
Winthrope's wide-eyed shock finally subsides and a coy grin slowly forms across her lips. Waving a hand through the air in a sweeping gesture, the candelabra Rhys was attempting to hide behind moved to side. "Oh? Blessed you say? From a professional point of view, I'm sure." She may have started having a little bit of fun with this. This could be bad.
Ashbrook flushes pink again, wondering just which one of his professions she referred to. "I, um, well--" He sucks in a breath. "Of course," he finally says, struggling to regain his composure.
Winthrope cants her head to the side, looking at him rather innocently. "Rhys?"
Ashbrook folds his hands neatly in front of him. "Yes?" he asks, managing to look at her again.
Winthrope suddenly decides that it's best that she doesn't ask him whatever it was she was going to - and pushes herself back against her chair comfortably. With a smile, she just shook her head. "Nevermind. It's not appropriate. I apologize. I hope I haven't made you uncomfortable."
Ashbrook shakes his head. "Certainly not, Mi--Koirah." He was getting better at this! He takes another breath, then lets it out softly, feeling some of his tension ease. "Koirah," he says again, as if his slip before hadn't happened. "In any case, should you need any tailoring done, you know where to find me."
Winthrope chuckles at the small slip-up with a dismissive wave of her hand. With a nod, she finished her chuckle with a smile. "I will remember that. Thank you."
Winthrope mused aloud, "Rhys."
Ashbrook nods, pulling his hands back to wipe them surreptitiously on his robes. His palms were sweating, he was so nervous. "It's been nice chatting with you," he says, reaching out to pull the book closer. "But I think I might...continue reading upstairs, in the hopes that my sleep might be better tonight."
Winthrope smiled, "I look forward to having you along when we travel to Fort Livingston. I hope sleep finds you well. Good night, Rhys." She looked to her lap again, knowing full and well sleep would be terrible tonight for her.
Ashbrook stands, smoothing out his robes. He picks up the book, and nods. "Good night," he says, pausing a moment before adding, "Koirah." It's his turn to make a hasty retreat up the stairs.
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