#earthrunes

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Coradel is lingering in a gallery, considering wall that are still in need of artwork.

The soft sound of footsteps as Vince enters, pausing to lean against the doorway. He remains there, silently watching for a few moments, until he's noticed. Then, he moves over and stands next to her to look at the empty wall, pondering.

"What belongs here? If you remain just where you are now, at the right angle... I'd say, a mirror."

She smiles at the flattery, taking his arm. "You're sweet, Whiskers."

He give a gallant nod and extends his arm to her. "A walk, Lioness? I find that a late night constitutional may be the thing for a blocked up mind."

"Of course." She moves with him, letting him lead where he likes. "A blocked up mind? Is Queen Bess's situation still troubling you?"

"Oh, not at all. She seems to be doing well. Mortals do, after all. Scrappy, they are - always finding a way. Rather, I'm curious, though it may kill me - what your impression was, of the visiting Count, the one with the Honeyed Blade - or so the rumours may say."

His steps, slow, deliberate, not seeming to have any direct purpose or aim as they wander the halls, though his gaze is distant.

"Well..." she considers, matching her pace to his. "He was...very alluring, physically. Enticing. But...well, in hindsight, he seems almost clumsy with the enticements towards the unseelie. Almost as though he were daring us to challenge him on it, to call him out. In the midst of it, I found it...tempting...but now I felt it was a bit...provocative without subtlety."

"So, was it not his unseelie nature that was offputting? Or his forward manner? It did seem that the Liam Lord was a little offput, but... bless, I will need more than a month in his company to be able to dissect what has his back up at any given time." This last, in a gently amused tone. "Not to give offense, m'lady."

"Well...August is not fond of unseelie on principle, though I don't mind that court. And August is....well, he's complicated, Whiskers. And I'm still figuring him out, too." A little playful squeeze of the pooka's arm. "That's part of the fun."

"Perhaps the Count would grow on you, should he visit more often. After all, as you say - folk are complicated, and it takes time to figure them out. After all, you have known, let's say, your new bartender.... oh, a matter of weeks? And yet, here you are..." A chance turn has taken then around a corner into a little culdesac. "Walking with him, alone, with no escort."

"It's a Fiona-thing...the fearless bit, you know. For certainly that new bartender might be quite the threat, and here I am not suspecting a thing...but still not fearing to walk with him. Alone."

A bit of a falsely guileless look.

A sudden twist and nudge of his hip - a smooth movement that brings to mind... judo, perhaps? If he manages to her by surprise in the unexpectedness, the Baroness may find herself with her back against the wall - and Vince, leaning into the wall, over her, close enough that his mane of hair brushes against her, and she can feel his breath. "And if he were to try to ravish you, here? Would the Fiona call the thanes with their blades, the knights and the cavalry, and the lion-hunting hounds?"

Trapped against the wall, and a bit of quickness to her breath, her eyes a challenge. "I was fostered by an Eiluned. Some things remain mysteries until one makes a move."

(No, that's not how the pigeons do it! You're supposed to stomp on her head, and peck her!!)

"Tell me then, shall you call the hounds? Chase away the Beast that would gobble up little red? Nay, for she may still head for the grandmother, coddled safe into bed, and find the beast there instead." He leans in, inhaling deeply, his nose just barely brushing the skin of her neck, the little hairs that raise up under the faint touch. "Shall the huntsman come, to chase, and hang a lionpelt upon the wall?"

Her voice is quiet, almost a whisper. "The huntsman may be fast asleep, and not heed the call. Especially if the call is never made." She shifts a bit as he leans in close, not to escape, but sighing a bit at the feel of his breath against her neck, tilting her head a bit to offer up the soft flesh there.

"Once, the Huntsman might have been called - and the wild hunt hidden, dark and wild into the night, until one forgets who was man and who was beast. The hunter, and the hunted together as one." His breath, hot and fast, and the soft huff, huff as he inhales deeply, pulling her scent in like a cat, open mouthed to better taste her on the air. One hand trails down from the wall to tangle in her red curls, sliding fingers behind to cup her neck.

"A wild and willful joining that would be." A little catch of breath at the hand in her hair, and her hands come up to stroke his shoulders, pulling him gently closer, not pushing away.

A soft noise, half groan and half growl, deep in his throat. "Once brotherhood would share in the hunt, and now the code of brothers wouldst fain keep me away. Lioness, how I hunger, though!" She can feel how he trembles, not the shaking of fear, but more the tension of muscles, poised and held, aching to spring.

"Shhhhh...." She brings a finger to brush against his lips, then a soothing touch along his jaw as she murmurs, "He knows. He knows that you desire me. And...I have told him that I intend to let you....convince me." A little playful grin, there.

"Ahhh... ha... hahaha...." He collapses forward, but now his form shakes,not with tension, but with laughter, quivering with chuckles as he tries to speak a couple times, before he manages to sputter. "Oh, is he not the Eilunid in disguise? Taking lessons from his library maid, or, or the Jester? Shalimar, be this your revenge, to suggest?" He shakes his head, before he manages to regain his composure enough to gasp out, "And I, told him, I shall wait for thee!"

The sudden laughter and change of demeanor makes her pout at first...until he blurts out the last. Her eyes go wide, and then rolls her head back to look at the ceiling. "Dreaming help me, I love that man, but sometimes I wish to give him a good, hard shake."

"By the SCRUFF, I say!" He turns to put his back against the wall, and slides down to the floor, pulling lightly on the Fiona as he goes so that she may rest herself upon his lap, if she may. "M'Lady, I profess... you are somewhere between a rock and a hard place." His tone, droll, and expression, innocent...ish.

She does settle on his lap, tilting her head to look at him. "I have been there before. And I can think of worse places to be."

"And where does that leave you, my dear Whiskers?"

"Kitten left out in the cold, alas." He leans down, unabashedly rubbing his head against hers, inhaling the scent of her hair. "Mrrrr. You were with the horses again. No, it's a good smell. Perhaps I should frequent the stables, therein one might be chosen as a mount." Still droll, perhaps a jest, perhaps serious - all pooka.

She doesn't answer, but nuzzles back against his head, then brushing her lips against his cheek....then nose to nose, so close, her breath on his lips.

His breath a scarcely audible growl. "Would one believe a pooka to be honorable? Alas, Samhain, is so very very far away. Were it tonight, I'd call that an offer, and honor that offer, that all of the night 'twould be honor, and offer...."

A soft laugh at the pun, but then quietly, "I know you to be honorable, Vince. And...I do not see dishonor in this. But...you do? Even knowing our past, and knowing I have sought and gained his agreement?"

He rumbles softly, and a hand strokes through her hair. His eyes thoughtful he gazes down at her, and blinks, closing slowly for a moment, a pause, before opening once more - a touch more golden now, than green. "Just so. Let the holding tonight be Caer Sera Sera!" And he succinctly ends the discussion as he catches her up, arms snaking around to lift Coradel from his lap, finally meeting her lips with his own, with hungry fervour.

She returns the kiss with only momentary surprise, her arms slipping over his shoulders, and she moans softly against his lips, a pleased and playful sound.

When she pulls away, she murmurs, "Somewhere more private, Whiskers. I promised him discretion."

He stands, easily lifting her weight as if she was nothing, and stalks with her down the hall, around a corner, and into a small antechamber - a private room off of the audience chamber where she had sent a slightly disgraced lion once before. "Keep your promises, Lioness. I promise you - tonight, this is a jungle where the lion does not sleep." And, he proceeds to bring truth to that, through the night, and into the morning, as it seems that tonight Vince's desires were only a whim away... a whim away...

She makes certain that this is one kitten not left out in the cold. Indeed, she seems intent to make sure that he stays warmed for quite some time....