The Chapel Arbora
[Pleasant]
This small but richly adorned chamber hosts lavish furnishings from a
handful of velvet-cushioned pews to lush crimson carpeting that softens
footsteps and muffles any present sounds. Tapestries depicting the holy
quest of King Dav drape the roughly textured stone walls, each worked in
rich and vibrant colors. At the front of the room, a prie-dieu sits
indented from the central altar, which is itself an affair of roughly hewn
stone with a multitude of wax prayer candles set on its table, casting
flickering shadows across the vaulted ceiling when lit. The room exits
through a wide archway to the east.
[ Exits: -east- ]
Amdair ab Lassider is here. [App: 3]
Amdair ab Lassider glances back behind he and you, as they enter the Arbora. Here he slows, turning his head to look towards her. "I apologize, I -do- get caught up in all these preparations.. I might've gone on for hours, if you'd let me." he muses.
"Precisely my fear," you responds, making a wry look. She evicts herself from the man’s arm long enough to see the door closed at their back, and then skips a rounded eye over the small chamber before slipping into one of the velvet-cushioned pews. A tacit invitation for Amdair ab Lassider to do the same lifts her eyes once she's settled in.
Amdair ab Lassider hardly needs more than the subtlest of suggestions, following you as if drawn along by string. He moves with a bit more grace, now, freed from the trapping of appearances before other guards. "Quite out of the way, really, isn't it?" he remarks thoughtfully about the room, a glance around stolen as he joins you in the cushioned pews.
"I've found the solitude welcoming on more than a few occasions," admits back to Amdair ab Lassider. Sitting adjacent to his person, Arely holds her shoulders level and keeps her hands in a small pile atop the closed front of a sky blue and emerald silken cloak with the Bretagne sigil. Her eyes take the opportunity to make the rounds over his face, stirring with a straightforward happiness that lessens the shadows of wear clinging to their edges. "We can at least speak, here," she quietly adds. [Player]
Amdair ab Lassider angles himself so as to face you, similarly. His face takes on a very slight blush, beneath her gaze, though he, too, suffers stirrings of the heart. "We can- and there's so many things I want to say!" he tells her. His cerulean eyes slip downward from her eyes, just barely, taking account of the smile upon her lips before returning upwards. "I had no idea you felt so similarly, until the other night at your brother's suite, Arely! At least, not beyond a hunch."
"Feelings mean very little for our breed," issues a frank, but softened reply. "I am astounded--" your wide eyes bear witness to the statement, "that the Queen has given us her blessing." She flushes her lids downward, scooping up Amdair ab Lassider's hand. "It was my aim, of course, to -not- want what I could not have." [Player]
Amdair ab Lassider's eyes shine with an unspoken agreement, fingers curling around your hand as she scoops it up for her own. "Feelings mean little, but isn't it nice when one can justify the end result they want?" he asks her happily. "I did not make up those economic benefits I mentioned to Her Majesty, and I know she saw through my reasoning."
Arely presses a humbled kiss to Amdair ab Lassider's knuckles, a corner of her mouth lifting through her cheek when her face rises. "She keeps a warm place in her heart for her Admiral, I do think," remarks. "The favor isn't spent toward me, I know; we haven't passed more than ten words, ever. ...Are the banns posted?"
"I've not left the palace to check, though His Holiness -did- say he'd passed the matter on to Sister Miller.." Amdair ab Lassider replies to you absently, distracted by even that single kiss, such as it is. He reaches out with the hand yet unclaimed to brush a gentle touch against her cheek. "She does seem rather fond of me.. I half-feared she might decline 'us' and try to marry off a daughter, in fact." he mentions to the woman next to him. "A smart move, perhaps, but it would not quite have the same high spirits you lend me, love." [Player]
Arely sinks her other cheek into the plush velvet of the pew back, indulging in the tranquility of Amdair ab Lassider's proximity. "Yes. Sister Miller. ...She is the one who wrote me." Those words are unhurried, and posed with consideration of the moment's placid mood. A lower, "We will wed before you leave, won't we?" after, strikes her expression with unease.
Amdair ab Lassider's eyelids drop a touch, cerulean eyes themselves dropping down to his and your joined hands. "I'd like to." he answers simply. "I could do without something as fancy as your brother's wedding.. Though I believe Her Majesty subtly indicated she expected -some- sort of celebration." he tells her. "There's also the matter of that daisy chain, thinking about it."
"Aah... then something will have to be contrived." The soft kidskin of your gloves reasserts the presence of her hand in his, a slim smile brushing under her nose. "Kaemgen would be pleased if his cousin could preside over the ceremony," she notes. "Would that suit you?" [Player]
"His cousin?" Amdair ab Lassider asks, searching for a name internally. He draws a blank. "I'm... honestly not sure who that is, though I may just be forgetting something." he admits to you, though his uncertainty is easily bested by his agreeable mood. "That said.. The ceremony is just that. It happens once and then is over." [Player]
"Oh," blinks you. "I'm sorry; I did think you knew. The Archbishop who presided over Kaemgen's wedding. He may not have shipped out again yet, though really, I don't know." She slips the corners of her mouth up. "I know my brother well. He would appreciate the gesture." A ponderous look crosses her face, and she continues in the same vein of thought, exploring the other options. "Montaigne will be gone with the Duke, then. Though if we wanted a private ceremony -- with the larger reception after, of course, we might engage Sister Miller?" [Player]
Amdair ab Lassider looks a little relieved when you suggests it, in truth. "I'd not be at all adverse to that, I admit." he tells her truthfully. "Though I don't want to upset anyone who expects... well, you know. Spectacle."
"I don't want spectacle!" sighs from you. "I am -not- my brother." She squints an inquiring eye to clarify, "The private vows?" [Player]
"Nor I- private vows it is." Amdair ab Lassider agrees with a thoroughly impressed look; even a bit of excitement is mixed in there, as you and he agree on that so easily. "For the reception, though, we will -have- to invite people. Her Majesty wants to make sure we're happy, and such, at the least." he muses. [Player]
Arely has been keeping a firm hold on Amdair ab Lassider's hand through that discussion of particulars, and slants her eyes down to it, there. A hesitating word loiters at the tip of her tongue, slowing the conversation to a pause. She does break it, floating two pools of blue back to meet with the Admiral’s. "You haven't kissed me yet, Amdair. ...I won't consider any of this finalized until you do."
Amdair ab Lassider's hand squeezes gently, as she voices her ultimatum, and attempts to tug her forward a small measure. "Is that so?" he wonders, eyes alighting with an obvious desire not to keep you waiting. He leans forward, too, voice dropping to a near whisper "You drive a hard bargain, Arely. At any moment, your brother could walk in and find us..."
"Not so very hard, I do dare suggest," slips back. With a tender touch you glides a dusting of fingers along Amdair ab Lassider's jaw, giving her lips over. [Player]
Global>The air cools noticably around you.
Amdair ab Lassider accepts that invitation readily, the hand not joined with yours finding its way to her side as that distance is closed, those lips locked gently. Though the air grows colder, he barely seems to notice- in fact, it seems to only drive him closer to the woman and her demand.
Arely kisses Amdair ab Lassider gently; sweetly, before drawing back, her hand cupping the angle of his jaw. "There. Sealed, aye? And a month's penance due, no doubt." The hand is drawn away, quivering as it relocates her forgotten purse and she laments with a slight exhalation: "...I should go; I have many pressing duties."
Amdair ab Lassider lets his hand fall away, reluctantly, when you suggests departing. "A month's penance I'd gladly pay over and over again." he remarks lovingly. "If you must go, you must- it is the nature of us, and I'll never begrudge you that." A sweet smile returns to his face, though, even as he straightens enough to let you have her leave. "But hopefully we can find a quiet spot again soon- I have sweet nothings to whisper into your ear, after all."
A glint of silver coloring catches in the subdued lighting, taken from your bag and handed to Amdair ab Lassider. "You may have this," she pairs with the offering. "It will open my manor off the estate road." Her head swings a little to the side, eyes staying with Amdair ab Lassider. "Another quiet spot." The key is pressed into Amdair ab Lassider's hand as she rises out of the pew. [Player]
You get an ornate key engraved with the crest of the House Bretagne from a sleek ladies hand purse frilled with verdant watered silk.
You give an ornate key engraved with the crest of the House Bretagne to Amdair ab Lassider.
Amdair ab Lassider's palm closes around the key after you begins to return to her feet. "The gift of quiet repose." he comments with a secret smile. "My heart goes with you, Arely- be safe!" An afterthought strikes him, and a humor edges into his tone. "I'll wait a short while before leaving."
"Don't forget," reminds with a carefully fluttering smile, your cloak shaken out to rid the wrinkles accumulated by her relaxation, "Should we be parted long, ...I'm never further away than that last letter's journey." Her fingers touch her lips in a deft kiss; it's blown to her lover with the turn of slippers toward the chapel door. [Player]
