Well, hello there

[Lorivar]

Lori ruffled the papers on the desk, the feel of the edges against his thumb callous not at all soothing. His other hand held up his head, cheek wrinkling his eye, frustration evident in the weight of elbow on the desktop.

This was not the way he'd meant to rule the Isle. A place he had held against all comers. Even upstart queens. But his duties to Ilithian had called him away from island more often. Truth be told, it was his spear that dragged him back to the territory seat with more frequency these days.

"Fuck me." He muttered, pushing the papers away as his wings drooped dramatically behind him. Scrubbing his face vigorously, Lori tried to wipe all his worries away, but there were just so many of them. And even with them bearing down on his backside, he still kept trying to think of new and inventive ways of talking Ili into taking a bit of spearing.

And new ways to dodge that rotten Red menace in her court.

A young warlord stuck his head around the door jam and cleared his throat. Looking up, Lori scowled at him, eyebrows raising in invitation. Speak quick or die, they seemed to say. As if the thoughts of court menaces had summoned one, the lad announced the Lady Fulminare had come to call.

Lori grimaced.

"Send her in." What the hell was the High Priestess doing out on the Isle? Lori figured he would find out soon enough. Scraping the papers into a pile, Lori tapped them into a neat stack and set them aside face down. The Isle's concerns were none of Tuvian's and Lori didn't doubt she would try and stick her nosy priestess nose in them given the chance.

She was friends with Ilithian after all, and she was the nosiest damn person he knew.

"Ah, Tuvian, so nice to see you." Lori smiled a lazy smile, rising to his feet at her entrance. He propped his hands on the desk and leaned over it, wings sleeking down his back and out of the way. "Come in, sit!" He gestured to a chair. She'd have to pull it up herself, otherwise Lori was likely to blast it straight to Hell with craft by pure accident. "Need any refreshment after the flight?" It was a cursed long with without the Winds.

[Tuvian Fulminare]

TERRITORY: Askavi, Undavi and Isle
CITY/location: Province Court, Lorivar’s Office.
SPOTIFY LINK: Shephard of Fire by Avenged Seven Fold. (Tuvian’s Theme song.)
Attire: Long, flowing scarf dress, with gold trip and hem and neck line. The  elegant, drooping points of the skirt easily bind up for flight, yet are pure silk and fall, unwrinkled, the moment they are released. A drape of green gauze flows over her arms. Golden sandals that lace all the way up, and heavy gold jewelry complete the ensemble.
PURPOSE: Discuss what First Escort can be.
TIME: Summer, AW 104
TAGS: [ @Lorivar ]

Lets take a moment and break the ice
So my intentions are known
See I have pity in watching you suffer
I know the feeling of feeling of being damned alone
I got a storybook of my own

Tuvian was briefly framed in his door way, black wings gilded to nearly bronze by the westering sun. Those wings trembled slightly and gleamed with moisture, suggesting a rough flight indeed. She fanned them out gently, to let them dry properly, only closing them briefly to sweep into the room before spreading their black-and-gold glory out once again. The soft gown draped pleasantly, despite the wet, but her sandals were another matter.

Leather hated water.

The warm greeting and lazy smile were two of Lorivar’s best weapons, and he used them to devastatingly good effect when it came to running his own Province. It was less effective on Tuvian, than most. But that didn’t mean ineffective, and she felt a half smile curve her lips in return. A delicate weave of Purple Dusk nudged the chair into position and Tuvian settled into it gratefully. Despite her exhaustion, she carefully maintained the illusions over her scars, as she always did in the First Escort’s presence.

“Lorivar, you have been missed.”

“It is good to see you as well. We found a storm, on our way here. A village was in it’s path. We stopped to assist, and I left my Escort there when everyone was stable.” A second curl of Purple Dusk, no more than wisp, began the world of loosening her sandals.

“Food would be very welcome, if you are joining me in a meal; otherwise I shall wait until your Court takes their dinner.” Tuvian settled back in her chair, allowing her gaze to asses the young Warlord. She did not appear to so much as notice the discrete pile of papers at the edge of his desk.

Turned upside down.

“How do you fare, Lorivar? Is all well here?” Would he answer, or evade?

[Lorivar]

"Have I?" He laughed. They both knew that was a lie. Lorivar annoyed most of the males, as much as he controlled them. Probably because he could, tempering them with his own manners as needed, or with his Red if that didn't suit. Except for that damn Red menace Ili had adopted. But it was nice of her to say.

Tuvian was mannerly like that.

"The sea blows them in a lot." He watched water drip from her wings to his floor as she settled herself into the chair he offered. Arranging it to her liking with her Jewels. "Which side of the channel was it on?" His, or Ilithian's? Lori would send aide if needed either way. But it gave him more leverage against the queen when things went sour on her side of the water.

"I'll eat with you." His Opal slithered down to the kitchens, spear to distaff to request a tray sent up to his office. Food and hot drinks. "We're not a proper court here," he waved away her concern, or was it prying interest, in formal dinners. Lorivar left that sort of nonsense to other rulers.

Queenly ones.

Definitely prying. Lori's smile turned wolfish. And his headache intensified. Women!

"About as well as they can be when you live on an island full of tiny queen children." As if the word summoned such devilry, a squeal echoed down the hallway. Lori's eyes turned toward it, probe racing to places his gaze couldn't follow. "Not a queen that one." One of his brood. Lori hoped the mother took him away soon.

[Tuvian Fulminare]

TERRITORY: Askavi, Undavi and Isle
CITY/location: Province Court, Lorivar’s Office.
SPOTIFY LINK: Shephard of Fire by Avenged Seven Fold. (Tuvian’s Theme song.)
Attire: Long, flowing scarf dress, with gold trip and hem and neck line. The  elegant, drooping points of the skirt easily bind up for flight, yet are pure silk and fall, unwrinkled, the moment they are released. A drape of green gauze flows over her arms. Golden sandals that lace all the way up, and heavy gold jewelry complete the ensemble.
PURPOSE: Discuss what First Escort can be.
TIME: Summer, AW 104
TAGS: [ @Lorivar ]



A laugh as sharp and cynical as Lorivar’s eyes filled the room at the notion that he’d be missed by the Territory Court. It rumbled around her like a call to battle, or the memory of one. He was fierce and violent and beautiful; winning a bemused smile from the Healer/Priestess. Tuvian never had wondered what their Queen saw in him. Yet he was also, in many ways, the most baffling and frustrating man she’d ever met. Unwilling to die for trying to read his mind, Tuvian spent a moment trying to assess his current mood and well being through the passive gifts of both her Castes.

He watched the water drip from her slowly fanning wings. It felt terribly personal; more so than a raking glance or obvious leer. There was an odd sense that he had chosen to see past her illusions. That he gazed, unmoved, at the shame of scars inflicted while bound and helpless. In that moment she hated him for that imagined intuition, for making her so deeply aware of why Eyrien Warriors were the most feared creatures in the Realm.

Yet his apparent distraction gave her leave to study him fully. Tattoos both hid and emphasized his scars, the story of his life immortalized upon his battered flesh. For all his youth, he was no child but a battle-hardened warrior. Consciously gentling her voice, softening her posture, was so very hard when every inch of him screamed threat to her highly-honed survival instinct. But she wasn’t going to surrender Askavi without a fight, so she needed him.

Needed him to do his job. So despite her best intentions, a distinct gleam of challenge lingered in her too-steady gaze, as she answered his first question. “The storm is on your side, I’m afraid. If you have a map, I can show you where.”

He indulged her, assenting to a private meal, and she visibly eased. A sudden, stunning thought shivered through her at his off hand, We’re not a proper court here. “Surely you have a First Escort of your own, for when you are not home?” A First Escort often spoke with the ruler’s voice, when they had to be two places at once. A glance at his discrete paperwork followed. “A Steward, my lord? You rule an entire Province.” Was he trying to do the Master of the Guard’s job, as well?

Just then a child’s squeal was heard, along with the scampering of small feet. Her own smile blossomed to joy, though his scowl seemed only to deepen. Poor lad; surround by so many Queen children. Quietly she murmured, “The most precious and critical Province we have, if we wish Askavi to rise to true freedom.”

Ah, that wolffish smile was distracting; it lured her into wishing to play with him, to release the hunter chained within the diplomat. But she was no child, to be captivated by his contradictions and loneliness. So Tuvian contended herself with a dry, “I meant you. The man.”

Then she simply awaited the result of whatever query he’d sent after the child. His only comment was, not a queen, that one. An odd summary. A painful one, perhaps. “Yet precious to us, none-the-less. We’ve too few of us, to fill every need.”

“Where do you feel most needed, Lord Lorivar?”

[Lorivar]

These were the reasons Lorivar stayed away. The closeness of the court did not suit him. The forced camaraderie between people who otherwise would not be friends. Could not be friends because they did not like each other. Yet each must set aside their differences to serve The Queen.

Lorivar did it for Ilithian. Because he... cared for their friendship. Because she was rightful queen of Askavi. And he allowed healer priestesses who obviously disliked him into his home and played nice while they looked at him like that. "I do, somewhere about here." He had maps aplenty. And not just of his isle.

Lori opened a drawer, eyes downcast as he smirked over her fussing. His fingers danced through bound scrolls, rolling them over each other until he found the one he wanted. Plucking it out, he unbound it, tisking at the lady across from him. "Triangles are for queens, Lady Fulminare. I don't need escorted anywhere." Lori tacked the map flat with a touch of craft at the corners, utilizing the barest touch of his Opal.

"I know exactly what I rule, I can promise you and that thieving queen of yours that." He still hadn't forgiven Ilithian for that. Lori had decided he never would. It gave him too much of the advantage to nurse and old wound. The child's squeal did something curious to Tuvian's face, something he'd seen on many women. Lorivar never understood it. He made as many as he could, but he found children to be filthy, obnoxious beasts.

His teeth flashed. "I know that also. I allow my sister play at master when I'm away." With a make-shift triangle Lorivar had chosen for her. No need to let the idiot sink his island and all her queen sisters on it. The girl hadn't half a brain in her whole head, queen or no. "For practice." Mother Night help them if she was ever allowed to rule anything but her own bedroom.

Brow twitching, Lori stuck a finger in his bad ear and gave it a wag, curious if he'd heard her wrong. "'Myself and my manhood are well in hand." Lewd, he knew, but there was no one to witness his teasing of the lady. For his queen, he did not ask Tuvian is she was offering to see to it herself. He wanted Ilithian to welcome him into her bed again. not cut his spear off.

"Very precious, I made him myself." Lorivar waved the preciousness away with his hand, and barked entrance for the servant who had come to hover in the doorway. Vanishing half the contents scattered across his desk, Lori left the map and made room for the tray to be placed. "Close the door on your way out, please." When the latch clicked shut, his narrowed gaze settled on Ilithian's war dog.

"What are you on about, Tuvian?"