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Topics - Isidore Nazaire

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1
Thure Island / On Second Thought
« on: August 03, 2019, 01:27:35 AM »
Fingers twitching the lid shut Isidore sighed at the padded giftbox before he tucked it back into his pocket. Half the morning had been wasted doing the same. Then bits and pieces of the afternoon as he made his holiday rounds. Box stared at pensively before he snapped it shut. Over and over again. He was not usually an indecisive man, which made his hesitation all the more frustrating. Was it more foolish to give the gift or to pretend it didn’t exist? After the risk of sharing a Jewel shard, and the expensive of having the necklace crafted he couldn’t justify not giving her the present. Hell it was Winsol for Darkness’ sake. He had to give his wife something. Yet. Still. But. There was a nagging voice- one that sounded very much like his mother- in the back of his head. Ready every time he was determined to pull Salome aside. Eager to convince him that it was a trifling trinket likely to get them into trouble rather than enchant or enamor her.

Maybe it would. Maybe she would hate it, or find some way to turn it into an insult. She was so damned good at being bitter.

The promise to come to Winsol at their home had not been abandoned, however. And all the gifts had been dolled out. Marks for the slaves and two days free from work. More personal gifts for the long time servants. A kitchen full of flowers for the housekeeper. The Jewel Web for Tariq and his woman. A fine weaving frame for his mother’s new hobby. Dresses for Tait. Rare silks and a hand carved desk for Eulalie. There was only Salome left. Only Salome, and he had nothing except the necklace to give. Unless he toured her through the warehouse to pick as she chose. Nothing there was as personal as this, though, and Isidore suspected that was the root of his dilemma. He had never given anything quite so personal to anyone.

Long body taking the shape of the doorway out to the terrace he watched the merrymaking in the parlor. Laughter in the center where a long table delighted family and friends with sweets and wine. Dinnerware cleared away when the meal was done. Dessert served in the form of pastries and candies that were easy to steal away to dark corners with. That was where his brother hid, turned into a human shield by his woman’s blossoming pregnancy. Hovering at her arm and making talk with the servants rather than the guests. Isidore didn’t mind, or care really, except to shoot smirking envy at their subtle joy each time Tariq’s hand found the roundness that marked the growing child at her center.

Weaving his Sapphire through the small collection of bodies he found the one he sought. A gentle probe leading her attention to where he stood across the room. He thought she was trying to avoid her mother, who was looking disgustingly bossomly with his own. With a curl of his finger he beckoned her to join him out on the wide balcony of the second floor. No one else had made their way outside yet. The sunset had thrown a harsh glare over the water, but it was fading now. And Isidore’s Sapphire more than enough to throw up a gauzy shield to keep it from blinding them. ”Enjoying the holiday?” He asked, offering her his arm at the doorway. His clothes were new, pressed and airy for the warmth of a humid evening. A striking silver and red that matched the traditional holiday decorations. ”I’m glad you decided to come.”

Weighing his words he stopped them at a chaise that was tucked against the balcony railing. Before they had even sat down a witch swept out with a tray of drinks. A small table to hold  them materializing from some corner of the space. She didn’t say a word or stay beyond Isidore’s one worded thanks. Offering one of the chilled wine tumblers to Salome he fondled the box in his pocket with the other hand. ”I had a gift made for you, a while ago. Before you… made your Offering.” He started, fingers tracing the leather bound box as he did. Eyes on his knees he tried to keep from pursing his lips or wrinkling his brow while he explained. ”At the time it seemed like a good idea. I want to give it to you now, if you’ll have it. I can take you down to the warehouse after, you can have anything you like out of there too, since this isn’t really-”

Much. But it was. It was just a necklace. In a dark green box with gold embellishment and satin lining. A locket, the size of a large coin, delicately on a fine golden chain. Slipping it from his pocket to her hand he brushed his thumb across his nose. Turning to sip slowly from one of the drinks rather than watch her open the gift. There was no space to set a picture. On opening the locket became a compass that glowed white around the dark letters that marked the cardinal directions. A tiny fleck of Ebon-gray sat on the hand of the compass. Which did not point north. Instead spinning to point judgmentally at Isidore as he avoided her eyes. ”The glow fades the farther away I get. I’m sorry, it seems silly now. You don’t even have to take it,” His Ebon-gray. Just a sliver, a speck, but enough to track him down. Maybe enough make him vulnerable. Rubbing the back of his head to keep from snatching it back out of her hands he nodded over the railing to the building next door. ”There’s plenty of silks in there. A fine Dhemalense carpet too. Or you can just order something from the jeweler or the tailor or whatever. Tell them to put it on my tab.”


@dergon

2
Corlay Island / Nothing Quite Like Momma's Cooking
« on: May 31, 2019, 07:27:10 PM »

One knee bobbing over the arm of his favorite chair Isidore sighed at the ceiling. His other foot was planted firmly on the floor. Ready to rise if his mother showed up with company. But the lazy set of his head on the opposite chair arm and the lack of a shirt were clear evidence he expected her to be alone.

He was in a petulant mood. The aura thick in the air around him so that Angeline would have ample warning. While he waited he counted the speckles in the tiles overhead. And wondered if she preferred this new home to the one she had raised him in. Not that he was ungrateful for inheriting the estate. It felt like home, no matter how many unpleasant memories were swept under the rugs.

”You,” He said with a tone of accusation, ”are out of papaya juice.” As she came into the sitting room where he waited Isidore turned himself right side up. Long legs sprawling and strong arms lifted to the sky so that his shoulders would pop. Dark eyebrows drawing together he stood with the slow grace of a feline. Or any prowling predator, really. ”Where were you off to anyway?”

No one was ever where he left them anymore. It was getting very frustrating. Being made to wait for the women in his life. Face dipping low he caught her by the shoulders to place a hard kiss on her cheek. Then her temple. Another for the top of her head. ”Missed me any?” It had been a few weeks since his last visit. Raids and escapades stretching the length of time to nearly unheard of measures. He was curious how long he could go before she would call him back. But not curious enough to risk her temper.

@Angeline Nazaire

3
Little Terreille Archives / Easy Street [CW]
« on: January 27, 2019, 08:47:14 PM »
Three days. That was how long Isidore had waited before tracking Salome to Corlay. Their spat left a stain on her front lawn- and a whole in his heart. But Isidore had lived with pains like that before. So he knew how to find relief. Which was why he left Paon in a flash of boiling rage that would rain down on all three islands for days. Ebon-gray half empty with the effort. The rest spent on riding the wind to Little Terrielle.

Where he stood on the village landing web for twenty minutes trying to shake the tension out of his limbs. His sweetheart healer was a very reactionary lover. And if he went in hot tempered she might learn to be afraid of his sudden appearances. Or wary at the very least. He had to come in calm. Trusting she would know just how to please him best.

She usually did. No matter how bad a time he had been having. Once he was sure the stink of anger had left his clothes he walked to her house. Stopping at restaurant on the way to buy the best wine they had in stock- all four bottles- and a  Knocking at the door in a funny beat that she would recognize. And smiling when she opened up. ”Hello, darling, have you missed me?” He swept the house with rough Sapphire probes to run off anyone that might have been inside. Hiding the near emptiness of his Ebon-gray out of habit rather than necessity. Enough to get home quickly if he had to. Or to defend himself through a few strikes  if someone darker than the Red came around.

I have been missing you.” He told her, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning in for a deep kiss. That. He wanted lots of that. But he also wanted what her skills could give. ”I stopped that by place with the strawberry pastries and bought a dozen. And a little wine.” Burying his face against her throat he groaned some of his inner frustration away. ”Let’s make it a party of two.”

@dergon

4
Askavi Archives / Risk Versus Reward
« on: November 26, 2018, 08:23:12 PM »

Funny that Vrai had not asked where the landing web outside of Eulie’s armory came from. Isidore supposed that a lifetime under the thumbs of strong willed priestesses had a way of stifling a man’s curiosity. But he had not asked. And he had not looked nearly as unsettled or fascinated as Isidore had hopped after riding the Gray Wind.

It wasn’t right, a man that had never left the islands looking as calm as a seasoned raider on those foreign shores. Impassive gaze slipping over the warlord prince to take in the building. He hadn’t wanted to go inside without Eulalie, like a sodding little puppy still stuck on its mother’s teat. But Isidore pointed out the glow of Eyrien fires in the distance. Villages that would see them standing out there like idiots. Then they would know they had entered that sacred place, and if they came to investigate Eulalie’s ‘black’ - ha! The irony was sweet- would have everyone in a panic.

So he had left the moon eyed fool to sit alone in the dusty sitting room they had found beyond The Keep’s terrace. Not even the bit of news Isidore had shared could stir Vrai up. All Isidore could glean without prying open the other man’s barriers was surprise.

Maybe the kid wasn’t his then. That was much less fun.

Fetching Eulalie would be magnificent though. With a grin he shot Vrai a wink. ”Better get back, Eulie’s never been this far from you before. Probably needs a hug.” Then he was back in the Wind. Fifteen minutes later he touched back in the armory.

”If your stubborn Hand gets himself killed before we get back I’ll have you know now it’s not my fault. The fool didn’t even want to go inside without you.” Isidore quickly tattled. Hair smoothed down with the palms of his hands while he turned to face his not-quite cousin.

He wet his lips while he looked her over. It made him nervous. Leaving the island with her. Taking her out there. But he liked it too. The risk and the knowledge that no one else could have done this for her. ”You should have told Vrai the truth. That web is going to light a torch up the Eyriens asses if they get wind of it.” Opening his arm he motioned for her to come closer. Very, very close. "Lets get this over with."

@dergon

5
Ile de Paon Archives / Aftermath
« on: August 19, 2018, 09:26:46 PM »

Isidore went home. From the temple steps to the patio of his bedroom in the blink of an eye along the Sapphire Wind. Swifter than a storm caught sail. All his frustration barely contained. Overflowing from his tight mein of control. They all felt the weight of his presence when he landed. Rochelle a bundle of old woman and scarves beside him. She disliked traveling on the Winds, but there was no faster way.

No one fled. They were not stupid. He was not a cruel master. Only a warlord prince, bound in moments of upset to the primal instincts of his caste. So the household hunkered down in silence. If he had wanted greeting and service he would have come through the front door.

There was a storm outside. Most of its rage blown over already. Rain fell heavily, but Isidore did not close the doors between his terrace and bedroom. The smell of salt stained clouds crackling with lightning was invigorating. It was how he felt on the inside.

And it lessened the scent of Eulalie’s tears on his shirt. Which he cast into his cabinet without removing from his body. Damp shoes left on the threshold. Belt threaded through the loops of his pants. Ankles wet and sticking. ”Take these, please. Clean them yourself.” He told her, slipping free of the legs. Without remark Rochelle took the bundled pants. ”You were able to do what I asked for Eulie?”

The old woman promised not a hair had been missed. That was good enough for Isidore. He nodded, freeing her from the bubble of his temper. Wise and well trained the housekeeper took a slow retreat. Settling the house as she went. In only his undershorts Isidore stood in the middle of his bedroom. Staring at a tiny chip of paint tile that had fallen around the base of his wastebasket. It was empty now, all other evidence of his argument with Salome gone. Just that pale mango colored crumb.

He could still feel it though. All that disappointment. If he let himself dwell on it he would suffocate under the lifetime of expectations met but dissatisfaction found. How did he manage to be everything he was supposed to be, without making a single person in his life happy? It was infuriating. With a groan he flung his body to the bed, and his Craft flung the sofa in the corner of his room right out of the open doors.

6
Ile de Paon Archives / There is no second place
« on: August 17, 2018, 10:44:20 PM »

”There’s something I need to discuss with you, my love. I wanted to before, but Eulalie was sure it would be unwise,” He did his best to sound casual. Lounging against the headboard with hungry eyes. Pulse buzzing through his body while he watched his wife. They were redecorating both of their bedrooms. Anything to make her feel at home. Even if she hadn't spent a single night out of his bed yet. There were a slew of paint chips and wallpapered squares covering the foot of his bed. It seemed to put her in a good mood.

Not that there had been any chance or reason to see her in a less than pleasant mood so far. There was the incident with her mother, during the wedding preparations. But even then she had just wanted to pout. He hadn’t done anything to make her angry.

Yet.

Sitting up a bit he spun one of the pages of paint samples between two fingers. ”There’s nothing wrong don’t worry.” He said gently, preparing himself to jump into the words. Get them out and over with. ”A couple of weeks ago Eulalie sent me to the mainland for a special task. I can’t tell you about it, but, when I got back she told me she had arranged our marriage while I was gone.”

He tossed down the samples. Looking up to judge her reaction. Careful to keep his own expression calm so that she wouldn’t think he was amused by the way things had gone. ”She didn’t know I had taken a woman from the mainland for a war bride. And I didn’t know she was working to secure me such a wonderful wife here on the islands. I've made promises to her though, same as I have to you.”

A crazy sort of coincidence. Not one he regretted, either. What was better than getting your cake and eating too? Two cakes.

@dergon

7
Ile de Paon Archives / Twice As Nice [cw]
« on: August 17, 2018, 10:23:02 PM »

”I’m pretty sure he cut me too deep.” Isidore complained. Fingers picking at the bandage on the underside of his forearm. It covered an open wound, several inches long and deep enough to make a good blood offering. He hadn’t thought to invite any healers to the small wedding ceremony.

They were waiting for one now. A spacious patio sprawled from the beach front house out into the sea. Not one of Isidore’s personal properties but he enjoyed the view so much he visited it often. The old couple that did own it refused to sell. It was their main source of income, leasing the place out for the right price while they lived comfortably in the city. The Raider Captain of Thure certainly had no lack of ‘right price’ marks.

So he had taken his red headed beauty to the black sand beach and made her his wife. All properly, just as he’d promised. A raider wedding, with rough housing and a blood letting.

Isidore rubbed at the thick red clot forming along the incision. Blood pooled along its length and he replaced the gauze to keep it from staining his slacks. Along a probe he felt the healer arrive at the front door. ”Fucking about time.” He slung himself up and off of the low set sofa near the pool. Pointing at the water as he walked towards the sliding panel doors back into the house. ”You can get in, if you want to swim darling. I won’t be long.”

And he wasn’t. Back a few minutes later with his arm mostly healed. The small woman at the door trembling as she did the work. Not invited into the house, but he tipped her well. For the healing, and for a tiny satchel of powder. Night of Fire. In case his young wife was feeling nervous.

They had not had much chance to spend time together, sadly. Not with Salome to court, then the ceremonies- and the arguing about whether he would have his war bride or not.

At the paneled doors he stood to watch her a moment. Feeling as victorious as if he had won her from the battlefield. Watching her, and the thoughts flitting behind her barriers. Judging her mood and willingness. ”You looked lovely today. My friends couldn’t stop talking about that hair of yours.”

@Jenn

8
Ile de Paon Archives / Queen Addiction
« on: August 04, 2018, 11:33:13 PM »

In the very core of his soul Isidore was a hunter. Warrior skills had been trained into him from the cradle, too. They were not lesser for being less favored. There was an art to war that pleased his instincts. Hunting, though, was his greatest pleasure. Greater even than sex unless he could find a way to combine the two. Women liked to be chased, and the chase was the real joy of the hunt.

Sadly his own women didn’t appreciate being openly pursued, however. Which left him to look at other options. He also happened to have another little problem.

Nosy priestesses that didn’t know how to mind their own business. Sending not-men to mosey up to his slaves and house servants. What they were trying to find out he didn’t know or care. That they had turned their eyes on him with more than passing curiosity at all annoyed him. How dare they?

If they wanted his attention, they had won it. For better or worse. And he was fairly certain it would not be better for them. First, he had to assess precisely what they knew, and hopefully what they had been trying to learn. So he invited himself on the pretense of visiting his fellow Raider Captain. Eulalie had set her sights on The Keep. And after the last venture into Askavi, a collaboration was plenty of reason for an impromptu visit.

Those were issues to deal with in the morning. This afternoon he had set aside plenty of time. For chasing. Careful to wait until the queen-girl had returned from her beachtime escapades. The shower in her bathroom filled the bedroom with sweet scented humidity. Isidore lifted her pillow from the small bed for a drawn out sniff. Not fit for a queen. Not fit for two people unless you got creative. They said she wouldn’t be though, creative or willing.

That she would run.

So he waited. Prowling the confined space and touching those things left out. A box on the dresser. From his psychic pocket he pulled out a large, smoky stone. About the size of his fist and the color of shadow. Special because it was forged by lightning striking the black sand found on one of Thure’s volcanic beaches. It was half polished so that it almost looked like a geode. A rough sandy crust around half of the outside.

A gift for a sea queenling. The shower stopped but Isidore didn’t turn to watch her leave the bathroom. He waited, back to the doorway. Hands roaming over the trinkets on the dresser top. Waiting to see if she screamed or bolted for the door.

9
Ile de Paon Archives / A New Reality
« on: July 10, 2018, 12:28:20 PM »

Isidore had come down from lofty highs a thousand times. Opium his usual choice since it was so readily available on the mainland. This was different. The Askavian honey made his veins feel like they were ripping open as his Jewels stripped it from his system.

Nerves overwrought from his brush with Eulalie. When he blinked he could still her sitting across his aching hips. The limpness her overdosing him caused lasted longer than the rest of the side effects. The good side effects, like the way his psyche and body had felt like one hard piece of self. All the pops of light and half illusions melting away.

He had to get the girl back home. Before Eulalie did something stupid just to punish the perceived insult of his impotence. Women were fickle creatures and you could never tell where their cattiness and jealousy might reach. So he’d tucked his sleeping treasure over his arm and taken the Wind to his main estate.

The room he gave her was a quiet one down the hall from his own. The small terrace overlooking the garden three floors beneath them. She could not be a wife, not yet. He had promised. No one but the housekeeper could know she was here at all. Even the girl did not know yet. Asleep when he had grabbed her from bed in the Glacian inn. Drugged to stay that way until she was safely to her new home.

Naked except for the soft cotton shorts he wore Isidore laid stretched out beside her. Black widow, her psychic scent warned. The prickliest sort of woman. He liked it the same way he liked the creamy complexion of her stainless skin and the streak of fire that was her hair. With his Sapphire he bound one of her wrists to the bedpost. Knowing she would wake soon, and he would sleep. The threat of her venom finger had to be secured until she accepted fate and learned to embrace this new life he offered. Else he would have it removed as it was on the slaves. Breath warm as it bounced from his skin back to his face he slipped a cupped palm up her shirt, letting his rest under the arch of her breast. A small comfort after his difficult night. Shivering away the last of his high since he couldn’t satisfy his suffering on the slave girls he had intended.

”You’re awake.” He mumbled against her shoulder. Eyes still closed so he could half doze, but senses aware of the change in her breathing.

@Jenn

10
Ile de Paon Archives / Home Again [cw]
« on: July 08, 2018, 03:26:57 PM »


Leg thrown over one arm of the chair Isidore rested his head on the other, foot bouncing idly. The hour was exceptionally late, and the house not his own. Eulalie would come to him eventually. Not a moment before she was good and ready. He waited in her armory, mostly patient.

In one of the lower rooms a foreign queen slumbered behind a door sealed with his Ebon-gray. The prize his Priestess Mother desired delivered as promised.

Isidore had imagined the whole ordeal to be much easier than reality had proven. The queenling was cautious and her trust hard won. In the end he succeeded, which was all that mattered. He didn’t realize how much it wore on his nerves and instinct until almost the last second. When he nearly decided to bring her to his house for the night instead of the temple. How dangerously close he was to letting himself form feelings for the prey he had so diligently hunted down.

Between his long fingers he twirled a squat glass vial. The contents golden and thick. A few air bubbles sliding from one side to the other with each slow turn. It was a rare honey, the merchant in Glacia had told him. Valued for its potent ability to intoxicate even the strongest jewels with a rather small amount. Few things could easily affect his Ebon-gray. He had been desperate to try it for days.

But he’d been too busy with queen fetching; then the other sweet little treat he’d picked up along the way. That one slept under guard too. The same brew used on both so that he could ride the Winds home without any struggling and make sure neither knew the way back.

Eyes shifting to the doorway he pulled the piece of cork from the rim. Two fat drops on his tongue before he sealed it again. Neck working as he leaned back, waiting for his dear cousin or the honey to take effect. Which came first.

It was the honey. Skin coming to life not moments later. All his senses feeling sharper, but they couldn’t have been because he failed to notice when Eulie appeared. Glancing at her once he looked back at the twirling vial in his hands. Then back at her again, eyebrows revealing that she had startled him. "Hello, darling." He drawled out, voice heavier than usual.


@dergon

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