#rescuemiriam

@rae has joined the channel

Though the weather outside is chill as the morning mist clings damply in the frosty air, here in Coradel's chamber, it is warm. Toasty, in fact. Almost stifling - why are the blankets so heavy? A rumbling echoes through the room, reverberating and causing the bed to shiver with the basso vibrations, and a musky scent, rich as aged cognac, lingers in the air.

She murmurs as she climbs into wakefulness, and tries to turn and stretch, but the blankets really are VERY heavy. A confused sound as she opens her eyes.

A humongous paw is flung haphazardly across the sidhe, and it is attached to a most dignified beast. Er, possibly. A broad expanse of furry belly, and massive form sprawled across her bed taking up the lions' share, chest slowly rising and lowering with rumbling purrs (no, not snoring! Of course not!), massive head flopped over. Tufted tail twitches languidly, and the front paws softly flex in a kneading fashion, claws (luckily!) remaining within the velveted mitts. Does her bed support 400+lbs of mighty beast? Hopefully made of sturdy hardwood or reinforced oak...

Her eyes go wide, and she's abruptly wide awake. She looks rapidly around the room, then closes her eyes and shakes her head. She tries to slip out of the bed without disturbing him at first, but the paw is a solid obstacle. A sigh...and she pokes the furry side. "Whiskers. Get up."

"Mrrrrrrrr-rrrrrrrrrrummmmmmm." She may not speak lion, but the grumble of "5 more minutes..." seems to be a universal language.

She tugs on his mane. "Up, Whiskers. Now. I mean it."

Something in her tone seems to cut through his lethargy, and his eyes open, first cracking, then into wide golden orbs. A blink and a tilt of his head. A whuff-whuff-whuff sound as he inhales deeply, tongue curling and nose wrinkling as he pulls in air through his nostrils and mouth to scent his surroundings. Paw withdrawn delicately to free the sidhe, and he slides to the floor with a resounding -whump-.

She sighs and gets out of bed on the other side, quite nude, but fetches and puts on a robe in a smooth action.

"You can't be here. Not in this room. Not ever." She seems serious, and a bit troubled.

He gives a mighty shake, his mane fluffing out around him. He exhales in a leonine coughing sound, a deep 'hnngh, hnngh' as he paces the length of the bed and back, golden eyes searching the room, trying to get his bearings. His rear plants down heavily, tail wrapping around him, and the mighty head lowers in a hang-dog look if ever there was one.

She turns her back on him so he can change if he wishes. "No, I'm not really mad. You didn't know. But August and I have an agreement. This room is our room, and ours alone."

A shuffling noise, and rustle of sheets. A few moments later, his voice, low and rumbling still, murmurs. "It would be beyond belief, I am sure, that one could make such a mistake unwittingly. To awaken, golden and wild, and seek out the familiar in the unfamiliar, the lioness in a strange jungle." A pause, and he continues. "Not for all the riches of the veldt would I have your frown." Should she turn, she sees the man clad in a sheet twisted into makeshift toga - rather well done, a practiced move, perhaps?

She does turn to look at him. He is a good foot taller than her, at least, and...he's gorgeous. A bit of a smile softens her frown. "Come with me, will you? There's a place we can talk in private that isn't here."

A nod and he trails after her, bare feet padding noiselessly on the floor.

It's very early, but they're likely to encounter a boggan or two as they walk...Coradel gives a stern look, but it's not likely to stifle the gossip. Well...she'll have to address that before it gets back to August.

She leads him to the audience chamber, then touches a panel on the wall, which slides to reveal a hidden chamber. "Here..." she motions him to follow her, and closes the door behind them. It's a small but elegantly furnished room, with carved and upholstered chairs and a divan.

He waits until the lady is seated before approaching, and sinks to the floor, cross-legged, and leans his head against the arm/side of whatever seat she has chosen. "Shall I gather my things? It shouldn't take too long, only a steamer trunk or two of miscellany." His voice somber, as he gazes up at her, tufted tail-tip flicking back and forth in an anxious manner that belies his languid tone.

"No!" A quiet reassurance, and she shakes her head as strokes her fingers through his hair. "No, you don't need to do that. But..." She pauses choosing her words. "What do you remember, from our past, Whiskers?"

Fingertips brush the fuzzy curve of one ear.

He leans his head into her hand, a faint echo of the earlier rumbling deep in his throat. "I remember you being very dear to me. A vision in red and silver, wild as as the very wind across the Sahara. For a time, we ran together, roamed, and tumbled... red and gold, melding through nights where the sky extended forever with more stars than ever could be seen from this earth." A husky sigh. "For a time. One wild as I could never dream of taming such a magnificent creature, and yet, you were drawn to the call of cool silver, seek that which could not be found within burning gold." Turning his head, he smiles up at her. "And who would ever begrudge a lioness what she wished? Not I, not I."

His eyes are deep and rich, a golden only a few shades lighter than the lion itself, now that he's had a night by the bale. Hunger flickers in his gaze, tempered by a hint of... sadness? Regret?

A tender smile in return. "I don't have memories so much as...impressions. Warmth...lovely decadence...sweet recklessness..." A bit of a teasing smile there. "And...I don't think those times ended when August and I found each other. Not entirely."

A smile curls across his lips, and he blinks, wide eyed, a cat's innocence. "Why, Lady. A naughty streak, perhaps." Rumbling a chuckle. "Oh, what fun to watch him fuss, all up on his dignity... is it, still?"

"Now, be nice." She tugs the ear she'd been stroking idly. "He and I both had consorts, we've discovered. In that prior life."

"Only then?" He squeaks, almost a kittenish 'mew!' as his ear gets tugged.

Softly. "I've only been awake here for six months. And we've only oathed very recently. As yet...no, no consorts. We've...discussed it. The possibility. But...well, I know he will struggle with the notion. He is very jealous."

"Jealous?" He rumbles, "Or insecure? Such a lioness to have fallen, Mmrrmmmmmm... into his lap, that might slip away if he doesn't grasp on so tightly to her fur..." Meanwhile, his hand has drifted to one of the sidhe lady's feet, bare and delicate in the cold air, and he tickles lightly at her toes with just the very tip of a clawed finger.

A slight squirm at the touch as she smiles at the compliments. "Was jealousy ever due to anything else? Yes, he has such fears. Hopefully less, now that we are oathed, but still..." A pause. "He must agree to...this. If this is to happen at all. And if...when...he also chooses consorts here, he must seek out my approval first."

He grips the foot, gently but firmly, and then his fingers press into the soft skin, working into the ball of her heel and rubbing thumbs against her arches, deftly working at the areas where one might carry tension, or an ache from non-sensible, yet oh-so-sexy heels or boots...

"He must learn, it seems, that though a lioness's eyes may wander, and her paws may take her along other trails, her heart lies ever within a silver tree. All well and good to say, but it is something he will need to open his heart to - for to love a lioness, is to love all of her, habits and haunts, tenderness and teeth, all together."

A soft little sigh as his fingers work, her eyes slipping closed, the sensations both present in the now and remembered from the past. "Well..." she murmurs "...when we consider that he was a virginal priest-in-training when he and I met here, I think he's making admirable progress."

"Oooooh. Fresh meat." A grin. "I am sure you are an admirable teacher, but there is much to be said for varied education. Sometimes, you come home with a lesson that makes for an interesting surprise." A thoughtful pause, and he purrs, "Perhaps he is the one I should visit, one night."

A bit of a laugh. "I think you might traumatize him. Unless...wait...Whiskers, do you have memories of you and he as lovers, too?" She clearly hadn't considered this before, and is having a bit of trouble imagining it.

A pause, and he looks thoughtful for a long moment. "I... don't NOT? Perhaps... perhaps I do." He rumbles, and the look on his face, the smile spreading, the cat that has veritably eaten the entire nest of canaries.

She rolls her eyes and smiles at him. "You're terribly pleased with yourself, even if just for something imagined."

"Oh, my dear... what is anything if not something imagined? For such as we, imagination and reality, so malleable, it may take only the slightest effort...." His tail suddenly used as a tool, to tickle the bottom of her captive foot mercilessly!

"Well, true, but....ah! Wait, stop...that...ha!...that tickles!" She squirms and struggles to free her foot, her fingers tightening their clutch in his mane of hair.

A rumble of laughter as he torments her just a few moments longer before relinquishing. "May I play with your Liam, perhaps? I promise not to break him."

Crossing a finger in an X over his heart, a hint of a claw leaving just a trace of white across the skin of his bare, tanned chest.

She's a bit breathless as he relents, then sighs as he makes that gesture, eyes on the trails marked on his chest. "Play with him, how? I won't have his feelings toyed with, Whiskers. Not for the world."

"You wound me, 'Ness." Reaching up to give her hand a quick squeeze. "I just seek to get to know him better. I would just as soon devour a baby gazelle as hurt a tender innocent. There is no sport in it."

And he slinks into a crouch, and to his feet, giving a mighty stretch and a jaw-cracking yawn. "Speaking of gazelle. " A mighty rumble echoing now from his midsection, a complaint against emptiness.

She watches the procedure of the stretch with clear appreciation, eyes lingering on his form...and it may take a moment before she realizes what he's saying. "Oh, yes." A nod. "Of course. Do you know where to find the kitchens? Somebody can certainly help you there, and I would join you after I'm a bit more dressed." She indicates the silky bathrobe.

"I could stand for a wash as well." He mentions, giving one of his hands a slow lick, then running his hand through his hair, brushing strands of mane from his face. "Ahhh, there. Much better, hmm? I think my nose shall guide me true in this endeavor. Adieu, until we feast together again." A courtier's bow, and his hair flops back out of place once more. A grin, up through the curtain of locks, golden eyes winking as if staring out from savannah grasslands.. and he sweeps up and away, sashaying out and down the hall, the makeshift toga fitting his form as if tailored there.

((Scene? 🙂 )

Her eyes follow his departure, and she smiles with a sigh, and lingers a few minutes in thought before making her way back to her room once more.

((Scene. 🙂 ))