The Would-Be Messenger [D3 - LN]

[Kevan Dunn]

In a sudden reversal, once she pushed herself up onto her feet and told him about his selflessness, his instincts revolted; seeing her footing unsteady, he pulled her against himself in a close grip. But not for a kiss, his chin ended over her shoulder, and he said nothing for a while. He wasn't even trying to rationalise it; maybe he wanted to establish some new normal of not being afraid of being close to her because he knew himself enough not to move any further. Or maybe he just wanted to dismiss the notion that a haughty lord from a high castle was magnanimous not to exercise his prerogatives, or rather abuse his position. Or to have something out of it, anything, some crumbles of what could have been. Or he'd had enough of her apologies while he was the real culprit and didn't want her to blame herself for what had occurred. Whatever complexity of his motivations, rationalisations and irreflexive urges led to this, he was now feeling her and she was feeling him. The trembling, struggling heat of his body pressed against her soft features was a paradoxical suspension between agony and peace, but could not be denied the authenticity. And yet, he moved no further that that.

[Kaelyn Dunn]

She pressed against the embrace, taking that tiny bit more for herself this night. I was one of wonder and realizations and trust. She closed her eyes, letting herself indulge a moment longer before pulling away, but keeping both of his hands in hers. She smiled cheekily up to him.

"I don't suppose I could borrow a blanket? It is just beginning to dawn and I don't want to scandalize anyone who might be up at this hour." Her laugh was slightly musical as she looked down at her nightclothes, mentally reminding herself she needed to grab her stockings lest there be a trace of evidence for the servants to find.

On a more serious note she told him, "I promise I will tell you when Dahlia returns. It's possible we could get an idea how far out the wheelhouse is."

It was unfamiliar, talking to someone other than Tomas so openly about her dreams. She had to admit she was a bit excited to have someone else to discuss them with. A trust that would never be forgotten in her soul.

[Kevan Dunn]

He nodded in quiet agreement, not confident in speaking too much in the present situation. He didn't want to provide more excuses or make their parting more difficult because of renewing the sensual tension. There had to be a denouement for this if they both were to survive it without profound burden on their future relationship, or yes - a scandal. He pulled his hands out of hers with the gentlest smile he could muster and took a sheet from his bed to wrap her form in it by improvising a cloak. He then knelt to pick up her stockings.

"Scandal or no scandal, we both know what did and what did not happen. Gossip comes and goes, and it hurts only if it carries some shameful truths we'd like to hide. I think we both prefer regretting doing the right thing now than regretting having done the wrong thing for many days to come."

His body didn't feel well about letting her go.

[Kaelyn Dunn]

Kaelyn accepted the stockings and wrapped the blanket around herself. She smiled as he spoke, getting in one last look at the gentleman's open shirt. "I'm glad we are of the same mind, and of the same restraint." She quickly found herself laughing at her own antics as old habits took over and she curtsied - wearing a sheet. "I'll see myself out, Lord Kevan."

[Kevan Dunn]

He kept the smile until her departure but once the sounds died out and silence captured him he found himself frustrated, wanting, troubled and lost. Even his sense of 'doing the right thing' lessened the more he thought about it, and remorse crept in. Arwyn wouldn't be proud of him. He wasn't proud of himself, nor there was much left to sweeten the bitterness of his semi-won struggle with his own desire. What was his love worth if it could be upended by a single incident of this kind? He didn't blame Kaelyn in the least, she was the innocent, clueless one, having nothing but good intentions and seeking reassurance and authority. He was the culprit, the slave to his outdated promiscuous habits of a careless youngster.

The rider's arrival tore him out of brooding and provided a major relief: father was alive, relatively well and on his way. There were many compounded issues related with his arrival, however, and Kevan's mind shifted to those. But there was no way around of self-loathing he felt, and he came to the conclusion that his misdeed has to be judged, himself to stand trial before the only arbiter that mattered - the woman he knew he loved. That was a difficult decision to make but he had to confess to her to be able to look into her eyes again without that betrayal of the mind weighing on his conscience. If there was any boon out of it, he understood more fully how much he began to love her, and how much he was afraid of losing her.

He eventually stormed out and got Tymagon from the stables to ride out into the mist.

/scene, continued here