Acherontia nodded, and raised the glass of wine. As she lifted it to the priest, her ever-present companion, her dear friend and the only one in this world she truly trusted, she spoke. "Peace through annihilation." Her voice was very soft.
As the wine flowed past her lips, she wondered if he could read the gratitude on her face for his presence in her life, for every spell of healing and every shared laugh. She hoped he could, for when the day came that she found the man she sought - for it must come, it must - she would leave him and the Grim behind. Perhaps it would be easier with every word left unspoken.
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Two more glasses of wine later, though, and that thought was a distant memory. Resting her chin in her hand again, she could not seem to stop giggling. "You were wearing WHAT???"
Dropping The Gauntlet by Gundnir
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Re: Dropping The Gauntlet by Gundnir
Melchisedech was smiling, the bottle emptied mostly by frequent pours into the warlock's goblet, and occasional sips. He was tipsy, but no more.
"I swear to you, I stood before the diplomatic envoy from Southshore wearing pink furry slippers, a beaten, plate helmet, and not a stitch else." He grinned, remembering. "If I hadn't managed to convince him that I was performing a new avant-garde piece of theatre, and that he was the first, honored audience, I might well have been hanged."
The priest leaned back, looking at Acherontia as she laughed. She was never half so beautiful as when she was laughing, and it happened all too rarely. Around her, he was able to relax. Around her, he did not feel as though he were a faithless coward. In her company, he was a free man, strong and brave and clever and charming and sincere.
He knew, one day, she would find her husband. He knew, one day, she would come across a corpse or a Scourge or a Forsaken or an Alliance, and that would be the end of their time together. One way or another, he knew, if she ever found him, that would be the end. The thought sobered him almost instantly.
"I apologize, my dear... I fear I must rest. The wine has gone to my head and left me woozy. I humbly beg your forgiveness."
"I swear to you, I stood before the diplomatic envoy from Southshore wearing pink furry slippers, a beaten, plate helmet, and not a stitch else." He grinned, remembering. "If I hadn't managed to convince him that I was performing a new avant-garde piece of theatre, and that he was the first, honored audience, I might well have been hanged."
The priest leaned back, looking at Acherontia as she laughed. She was never half so beautiful as when she was laughing, and it happened all too rarely. Around her, he was able to relax. Around her, he did not feel as though he were a faithless coward. In her company, he was a free man, strong and brave and clever and charming and sincere.
He knew, one day, she would find her husband. He knew, one day, she would come across a corpse or a Scourge or a Forsaken or an Alliance, and that would be the end of their time together. One way or another, he knew, if she ever found him, that would be the end. The thought sobered him almost instantly.
"I apologize, my dear... I fear I must rest. The wine has gone to my head and left me woozy. I humbly beg your forgiveness."
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Acherontia's wine-soaked brain had managed to cobble together a picture of her normally stoic friend in the situation he was describing, and she was laughing openly at the thought. It was almost too ridiculous to even picture. Melchisedech. Naked. She couldn't stop giggling. There wasn't naked, there was Melchisedech. He didn't naked. Or slippers. Slippers. She pictured him preaching a sermon about Sylvanus' grace to the diplomat. Slippers. Naked. No more wine. She put her hand over the glass, even though he hadn't lifted the bottle to fill it once again. Don't you pour me any more, you naked pink-slippered...she dissolved into giggles again.
"I humbly beg your forgiveness."
The laughter faded. "Oh. Leaving?" There was no donning her mask of indifference, not in the condition she was in. She was sure the disappointment was showing naked on her face. Naked. Another laugh escaped, but was quickly curtailed as she registered the changes in his aura. Something was bothering him. She reached out and grabbed his wrist - she was aiming for his hand, though. No more wine. Don't leave. "Don't leave. Please." With her other hand, she dug through one of the satchels at her side. "Do you want some munburry juice? Moonburry. Moon. Berry." She struggled with the word. "Moonberry juice. It helped me last time. I should prob'ly have some - probably. Probably have some too."
"I humbly beg your forgiveness."
The laughter faded. "Oh. Leaving?" There was no donning her mask of indifference, not in the condition she was in. She was sure the disappointment was showing naked on her face. Naked. Another laugh escaped, but was quickly curtailed as she registered the changes in his aura. Something was bothering him. She reached out and grabbed his wrist - she was aiming for his hand, though. No more wine. Don't leave. "Don't leave. Please." With her other hand, she dug through one of the satchels at her side. "Do you want some munburry juice? Moonburry. Moon. Berry." She struggled with the word. "Moonberry juice. It helped me last time. I should prob'ly have some - probably. Probably have some too."
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He felt her hand on his wrist, almost dropped the wine in shock. She NEVER touched people. For a moment, he just stood there in awe while she dug through her bag. She offered him something, moonberry juice, he thought, and he accepted, sitting somewhat stiffly.
What did she want? He was so confused by her. She was so distant sometimes, and yet, when her guard was down, she was so personable and social.
"Acherontia... you seem to have had quite a bit to drink." Melchisedech floundered for words, not something to which he was accustomed, and almost immediately regretted the words as banal at best and antagonistic or offended at worst. He wished he could have them back.
What did she want? He was so confused by her. She was so distant sometimes, and yet, when her guard was down, she was so personable and social.
"Acherontia... you seem to have had quite a bit to drink." Melchisedech floundered for words, not something to which he was accustomed, and almost immediately regretted the words as banal at best and antagonistic or offended at worst. He wished he could have them back.
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Re: Dropping The Gauntlet by Gundnir
She sipped from the second of the two flasks of juice. His words, however, sobered her faster than any beneficial drink or night of rest could have. She tilted her head and regarded him thoughtfully.
"You seemed to be all too willing to help with that." It was not an accusation. She was not so inebriated that she could not remember that the priest had been the one refilling her glass, chuckling at their enjoyment of each other and her openness. Acherontia sat the juice on the table next to her empty goblet and rested her chin in her hand again, feeling the liquor wrapped around her brain like a warm blanket and wondering how much of an effect it was having on her sight. She realized she was still grasping his wrist and felt flooded with embarrassment as she released it. "Are people staring?"
"You seemed to be all too willing to help with that." It was not an accusation. She was not so inebriated that she could not remember that the priest had been the one refilling her glass, chuckling at their enjoyment of each other and her openness. Acherontia sat the juice on the table next to her empty goblet and rested her chin in her hand again, feeling the liquor wrapped around her brain like a warm blanket and wondering how much of an effect it was having on her sight. She realized she was still grasping his wrist and felt flooded with embarrassment as she released it. "Are people staring?"
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Melchisedech nodded and stood once more. "Acherontia, I think I should assist you to bed. I hope you will trust me not to take advantage of you in this state..." A small smile crossed the priest's features. "We have created enough of a spectacle for this evening, and I do hope the rest of the Grim will forgive me for monopolizing the guild hall with my tales."
The priest, somewhat saddened that the warlock's hand left his arm, extended his own hand toward her, brushing her sleeve gently to let her know where the proffered limb was.
The priest, somewhat saddened that the warlock's hand left his arm, extended his own hand toward her, brushing her sleeve gently to let her know where the proffered limb was.
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Re: Dropping The Gauntlet by Gundnir
Acherontia felt her face redden - but no, that was impossible. The fact that she could still feel those rushes when her body was not creating them - could not create them, could not create a blush, could not cause her heart to beat faster, not anymore - baffled her. She ignored Melchisedech's hand and began feeling on the table for her scattered fabric and materials, trying to stack them neatly before abandoning the effort and instead crumpling the fabric into a ball and stuffing it in one of her packs. She would sort it out later. Taking another pull of the sweet juice, she stood - somewhat unsteadily - and faced the priest, shouldering her bags.
"You do not have to reassure me of that, Melchisedech." She spoke quietly, somewhat embarrassed at the subject. "You said the same thing in Booty Bay when you had to help me to bed then - you know I could never think that of you. You are not -...I mean, you do not -..." She sighed softly. "You do not seem..." Acherontia abandoned her floundering. He knew about Simon, that was enough. "I allow you to heal me when I am wounded and more vulnerable than I am now. I know you would not..." She dropped her head, her face burning. "I trust you, my friend." She watched the flickering of color in her sight and cursed her vision for failing her, or cursed him for changing - she did not know. Turning toward Yichimet, she smiled briefly and nodded her goodbye before following Melchisedech out the door.
"You do not have to reassure me of that, Melchisedech." She spoke quietly, somewhat embarrassed at the subject. "You said the same thing in Booty Bay when you had to help me to bed then - you know I could never think that of you. You are not -...I mean, you do not -..." She sighed softly. "You do not seem..." Acherontia abandoned her floundering. He knew about Simon, that was enough. "I allow you to heal me when I am wounded and more vulnerable than I am now. I know you would not..." She dropped her head, her face burning. "I trust you, my friend." She watched the flickering of color in her sight and cursed her vision for failing her, or cursed him for changing - she did not know. Turning toward Yichimet, she smiled briefly and nodded her goodbye before following Melchisedech out the door.