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| Details |
| Author: | Athena |
| Summary: | Over the past week, there's been some developments with the relationship between Avrenne, Siamus, and Zath, not the least of which is that Zath has been avoiding being alone with Avrenne. The reason why finally comes to light, Siamus and Zath discuss it, and then Zath must finally address his feelings for Avrenne with her. Romance RP with mature, suggestive themes. 6k-ish words. |
| Rating: | M for Mature 17+ |
Chain: Siarenne
Late afternoon of the 27th, the door to the Wintergarde inn opens. By now everyone should be used to Captain Zath Tyrrell's dramatic entrances, but a few still turn their heads toward the door, falling silent. It's snowing rather hard at present, and so his dark hood is drawn up; it and his shoulders are dusted with snow.
He spots Siamus and heads toward him immediately, the lines of his face softening slightly.
Siamus is seated at a table close to the hearth; the Wintergarde chill still seems to affect him more deeply than it might have before. He is dressed in his uniform coat, even here indoors, and the cup on the table is hot black tea rather than whiskey. He is writing, as usual.
At Zath's approach, he glances up; his dark gaze warms and he sits back, that slight, inscrutable smile curving to life again as he watches the other man come toward him.
Zath approaches the chair nearest to Siamus, but doesn't yet sit in it, gloved hands resting lightly on its back.
"What are you working on?" he asks.
"At the moment, shipyard orders for Fallon Harbor. I've got a vessel being built and two in drydock for repair." Siamus arches a brow wryly, waves at the chair to indicate Zath should sit. "D'ye want to look over my inventories?"
Zath settles into the chair as though pulled there by gravity, and begins tugging off his gloves. "A new ship? I've just learned all the names. Is it named yet, or must one wait until it is built?"
Siamus's smile warms and he drops his gaze to the papers again before glancing up. "She's to be the Lady Blanche. My new flagship. A prototype for the navy vessels I've proposed."
"Ah, your new flagship, of course," Zath says. "I should have known." He smiles slightly. "Mmm… is it a… what sort is it?"
Oh shit Zath, now you have done it. Who wants to talk about boats? Siamus Fucken Fallon wants to talk about boats.
"Ah, she's no' one we've spoken on before. The plans I've drawn up for the navy are for ships of the line — Tirasian-designed frigates, in the main — and the Blanche is the same wi' some slight modifications. I believe I did tell ye I'm no' much a man for line of battle tactics? She's a third-rate, which in sailing terms is to do wi' size and number of guns, no' quality. She'll be a high-quality lady." Another flash of smile. "Two gun decks, 72 guns, full-rigged."
"Marvelous," says Zath with real warmth. Not being a navy man, he may just be commenting on the man describing the ship, and his enthusiasm, rather than the ship itself. But who knows?
"Aye," Siamus grins. Zath gets him. Ships!
He reaches for his tea. "Where've ye just blown in from, then? Will ye sit a while and ha'e a drink wi' me?"
"The barracks," Zath says, "by way of some absolutely dreadful weather, and so of course your face is a welcome and warming sight I should like to enjoy as long as possible. Anything in particular on your mind this afternoon?"
Siamus hesitates, then shakes his head and smiles again. "Only the pleasure of your company, as usual. Shall I order ye something?" He lifts a hand to signal for a passing server.
"If you like. But you hesitated. Everything all right?" Zath studies him.
"Ah, some — the news from home is… ongoing," Siamus says. It would be ambiguous but for the way his jaw sets for a moment.
He waves his free hand. "A voyage to Tiragarde wi' ye seems no' imminent, at least, I fear." The server approaches, and Siamus indicates Zath with a nod. "Glass of whiskey for the Captain, if ye please, miss?"
The miss apparently pleases, and heads for the bar to see to this request. Siamus has a sip of tea, sets down his cup, and reaches for his sheaf of papers again to peruse them absently. "How are your people holding up, love?" he asks, without glancing up at Zath. This may be On Purpose. Don't worry, you are unperceived.
"Master Sergeant Crowley has already gone home to Stormwind. Lieutenant Hall — is still here. As for how she is, I couldn't say. Which is to say, I do not know. Not that it is confidential. She seems to be avoiding me."
Siamus glances up. "Ah. I'm sorry to hear." He pauses. "If I see her about, may I gi'e her my condolences, or is she no' a lass for that? I've no' seen her yet."
"I can't imagine any young woman objecting to anything you might say to her," Zath says dryly.
Siamus flashes Zath a rakish smile. He knows.
The server returns to set a glass of whiskey before Zath and then whisks away again.
"Ah, damn. Will ye do me a favor, lovely?" Siamus asks Zath.
Zath eyes the whiskey. "I thought you were going to bring me tea… What can I do for you?"
Siamus glances over at the staircase ruefully. "I'd no' ask it of ye ordinarily but I've been up and down twice already today and a third time will be the end of it for the day, I expect. Would ye run up to the room and find me the blue ledger? On the sitting room table, I expect. If it's no' there, Avrenne will know where I've left it."
Zath stares neutrally at the whiskey for half a heartbeat before he gives a mild start as though waking from a slight doze. "Ah, damn. Normally I would be pleased to help you take better care of yourself, but looking at this whiskey reminds me that I'd said I'd fetch a bottle for someone in the barracks, and I should likely get it to him before the snow gets any heavier. Shall I send a server up on my way out?"
He lifts his eyes to Siamus; they are at Maximum Inscrutable.
Siamus regards him mildly. After a moment, his brows draw together. He reaches for Zath's glass. "Well, if you're no' going to stay and drink it…" he suggests lightly, and slides it toward himself. He has a sip, sets it down, continues to regard Zath. "Ask ye a thing, beauty, before ye go?"
"Certainly," says Zath. Is that a hint of wariness behind his eyes?
"Have I done ye disservice by asking ye to be so much in my lady's company? I know ye've no' been in harmony wi' her in the past, but I was under an impression we might ha'e mended that now, we three."
Zath looks like he's been pinned to the back of his chair, so straight is his spine. His expression is the blank, tense look of a child who's about to get thrashed by his father.
"Not at all," he says. He lowers his voice, then, to be sure he's inaudible to anyone but Siamus in the noisy room. "It pleases me greatly that you allow me to share in your… happiness."
Is that what the kids are calling it?
"Aye," says Siamus dryly. "I can tell." He surveys Zath. "And yet ye don't seem greatly pleased now. Would ye rather we no'?"
"I want… I want whatever pleases you. Sincerely," he adds, his eyes softening slightly. "If I seem displeased it is because… I sense something like displeasure in you, and I am wondering what it is I've done to — this is a complex situation, and I have been trying my utmost to navigate it with… honor and decency."
Siamus blinks at him. "Displeasure? In me? Are ye sure that's no' the pneumonia?" His smile curves wryly, but his dark eyes are searching. "When ha'e ye seen displeasure in me, lovely? And I know ye for a man of honor and decency, Zath, I'd no' think ye otherwise. Where's the trouble lie?"
"You asked if you'd 'done me a disservice' — so something is awry, yes? Tell me what it is, and I shall mend it, I promise you." Zath slides a hand toward Siamus on the table in a pleading, intimate sort of way that is uncharacteristically revealing of their relationship to random bystanders.
Siamus takes the hand unselfconsciously. Hey, random bystanders, having a moment with my boyfriend, k? "I asked if I'd done ye disservice because it seems to me sometimes when we're abed at night that ye feel… not all at your ease, though ye say otherwise when I ask ye. And I've noticed that — just as now — ye don't seem inclined to be near the lady unless in company wi' me. So I ask if I've done ye disservice in asking ye to join her and me, or asking her to join us, because ye'd rather no' and are just too kind to a sickly man to deny him."
"No no, that's not it at all. You — surely you can see that I — " He lowers his voice even further. " — Enjoy her. But that's — that's for when —" He shifts in his chair, brow furrowing. "You've invited me. And I know you've sent me up there now, but… I know that your sister is out, it would just be the two of us. And I don't know how to — compartmentalize. How to… unsee —" His gaze goes unfocused. He might be seeing some of it now. He blinks and gives his head a frustrated shake. "You trust me, and I want to honor that, but I don't know that I… trust myself."
Siamus has another sip of (Zath's, nominally) whiskey and considers this, brow furrowed. "I'm no' sure I'm understanding. Why would ye no' trust yourself? Wi' what? I know ye'd no' — aye, I asked ye to go up and fetch a thing, wi' Avrenne up there. I know ye'd no' harm the lady, Zath, so I'll no' conceive that's what ye mean, and I'm no' sure what else you're getting at."
"I mean that I… cannot trust myself to…" Zath draws back and rakes a hand through his hair, once, twice. "The things you allow when we are together, they've kindled thoughts and ideas in me that I cannot simply snuff out the moment you are no longer present to direct me. I know that she is another man's wife, and not my lover, but she still…" the words seem almost to hurt as he forces them out, "looks and sounds and smells like a woman I've had in my bed. She has… she knows… I have been exposed to her. I no longer know how to pretend that I do not… I can no longer retreat behind propriety."
Siamus arches an eyebrow. He has another drink and then slides the glass back toward Zath. "Are ye saying that if I send ye up there to fetch my ledger for me, ye might fuck my wife?" He's watching Zath warm-eyed. "Would ye at least bring the ledger down afterward? It's the blue one. Avrenne will know."
Zath's expression does a thing equivalent to Avrenne's Bad Blush — his eyes tighten at the corners and what little color there was left in his face drains away. He scoots his chair back an inch.
"Zath," says Siamus. He tilts his head and studies him, a little perplexed. "I'm — are ye serious? I'm serious. If ye enjoy the lady and her company, why should ye no'? She's an enjoyable lady and fine company, I could hardly blame ye as a man who finds it so myself." His tone softens, his gaze going a little absent, fond. "She's an extraordinary lady. Just as ye are an extraordinary man. Nothing pleases me better than to see other people know and appreciate that."
"I have told you why I cannot simply 'enjoy her company.' I — no." A wall of ice goes down over Zath’s expression. "I won't say more and open myself to further mockery. I apologize for being such a — I should return to the barracks."
"I'm no' mocking ye, Zath, hold. I'm no' mocking ye. I'm no' — fairly conceiving your difficulty, I think. Stay. Explain it, aye? Ye want the lady herself? Why should ye no'? She's a desirable lady. Would I ha'e invited ye into our bed if I objected? I'm hardly a man who'll object to lovers, Captain" — he eyes Zath significantly up and down — "whoever they belong to. The lady knows as much, as I thought ye did yourself." He has leaned forward, his smile faded, his gaze intent and concerned.
Zath leans back in again, his eyes aflame, his voice a pressurized hiss. "But she is not my lover, Siamus, she is your wife! Just because you show me hospitality once in your home, or even thrice, that does not mean I can now let myself in whenever I like, ride your horses, make myself a meal from your provisions!"
Siamus knits his brows and regards Zath like he's trying to read some fine print at just slightly too great a distance. "She is my wife, I concede. I'm no' understanding — I'm trying, lovely, aye? I see it's got ye bound, but — the lady's no' your lover? Why should she no' be? Ah, tides, she's no' objected, has she? I thought she was well fond of ye." The smile is gone; Siamus's gaze is dark with chagrin and concern.
"I have not spoken to her!" Zath leans back, resigned. "I do not know how else to explain. I feel like a madman. You insist the weather is fair despite the snowflakes on my shoulders."
"Zath, hold, aye? I'm trying." Siamus folds his arms and studies Zath. "The difference wi' your analogy is that my wife's no' my house or my horse, she's a lady who can give answers of her own. I'd no more ha'e invited ye into our bed wi'out her willingness than I can answer for her in the matter of her lovers. She'll have to tell ye herself if she's willing or no' for a lover, and so ye must speak wi' her. But if ye fear what I might think, is that it? Lovely, I've no objection to ye. The pair of ye are my lights, nothing would be gladder news than that ye like each other so well also. I've been — my concern when I asked, ye see, was that ye weren’t fond of the lady and objected to her company. Theopposite is no' a problem, love."
"Isn't it?" Zath says, his expression torn between continued guilt and anguished hope. "It isn't a problem if you are away? I know that you enjoy the sight of my head between your wife's legs, her little hand wrapped around—" He visibly puts that line of thought away. "But what is it, if such a thing happens and you are not there to enjoy it? What is it if you come home to find her wearing jewelry I gave her? What is it if I confide in her? If sometimes when she is alone it is my eyes she sees as she — this thing could bloom like a weed, Siamus, and when you tire of the novelty, when you see the trespass and take back what is yours and yours alone where does that leave me? I lose you both."
He is visibly struggling against tears, now. Light, not in the bar.
Siamus leans in and reaches his hand across, makes a soothing noise. "Zath, love. Hush, aye?" He hesitates, considers Zath with uncertain perplexity. "Do ye wish now ye'd married her? Is that — Zath, she's a lady, no' my horse, and she'll decide for herself where and how and what she feels. She's no' — mine in the sense ye conceive. She's my wife by law and contract, we've agreements in place, and we — I confess I love her well." He may not actually have used those exact words to Avrenne herself at this point but woop, there they go. "And she loves me well, and I'm satisfied of it. If she loves another well also, and has joy of him, then she's as blessed as I, and if that one is you, well then we're all blessed. If I'm away, then I've two to come home to. But even if it weren't so and weren't you, if Avrenne took a lover, I'd no' object. …I suppose, depending on the man, I might object to him, but I could hardly object to Avrenne choosing company that pleases her, could I?" He smiles. "And if she found a very lovely man — or lass — of her own who was willing to share that joy, I'd no' object to that, either." (We know you wouldn't, Siamus.)
"But Avrenne's heart is hers to give or no'. And if ye believe I've room enough in mine for the both of ye, why would she no' have room in plenty also? If she'll have ye for a lover, my poet, will ye leave me?" The tone of this last makes obvious that it is an academic question, an illustrative example to consider, and not an outbreak of misgiving.
"Never," he says quietly. "As well you know by now."
He takes a deep, shaky breath, looking a bit like the peasant boy who has just been told he is the new king of Stormwind. He processes this for a long moment, lays his hand over Siamus's briefly.
"I promise I shall never make a fool of you," he says gravely. "I shall never kiss your wife in public, nor give her a blue-eyed child that would raise questions." That is not how genetics work, Zath, but okay. "But I would very much like to… express myself freely with her."
It is apparent how difficult, how wrong it feels, for him to say any sentence earnestly that begins with I would very much like. He lays it there between them like a blood sacrifice.
"Well," says Siamus, "and I would like two of the people I love best to be happy, aye? E'en easier for me if they're happy together. And I'll tell ye I'm fair glad of it, in fact — for a time there at the start, I thought I was going to have to ask ye to wait in separate rooms and only see ye one at a time." He turns his hand beneath Zath's, lifts Zath's hand to his lips and kisses it gently, his eyes fixed on the other man. Sorry, random bystanders, boyfrando gets hand kisses. "Ye know how it pleases me when ye say what ye want, lovely." There is perhaps some Insinuation there. Siamus can't help himself. "And I hope I'll be as welcome wi' the both of ye always as both of ye are wi' me."
"Of course," Zath says without hesitation. "You know what I feel for you." I said it a bunch, dude, it was super embarrassing, don't make me do it again.
With bashful but not displeased awkwardness, Zath retracts his hand and tries to reassemble himself into the Captain.
"Then I should… fetch your blue ledger?" he says. "Even if I might be delayed a moment in my return?"
His eyes say he still doesn't really believe it but is willing to do it if only to prove himself right.
"I would be obliged to ye. I'll finish your drink meanwhile." Siamus smiles crookedly.
Zath rises from the table, his gaze on Siamus still speculative and slightly nervous. He gives a polite half-bow and heads for the stairs at an unhurried pace. He is just going to fetch a ledger, jeez.
The blue one, Zath.
Avrenne is, for the first time in over a week, not wearing either a nightgown or her Battle Outfit. She is in a Real Dress. It is clearly not one meant for being out in Northrend — for those trips outside the inn, she would clearly not be in a dress, not with the active Scourge attacks by Naxxramas — but one of her house dresses, sent up from Stormwind while she remains in Northrend.
It's a beautiful gold creation, with a soft tulle skirt and tight bodice. Long sleeved, of course, but with that rectangular neckline she favors for her dresses when she is at home, the unusual embroidery that isn't quite…leaves? lines? something, across the bodice and arms. In the back are around twenty or so small buttons along the line of her spine. Someone had to help her into it earlier. Her hair is down around her face, and so she is clearly not expecting Company, only Family.
She's at the sitting room table, drinking a cup of plain black tea, reading through several pieces of paper (letters, possibly, given that none of them appear to be in her hand or in the same hand) in a way that is almost amusingly similar to Siamus' own set up in the inn below. Beneath a stack of other papers and ledgers there is a blue ledger, though not necessarily easily visible on a first glance.
Zath enters quietly and closes the door behind him. His breath is a bit more rapid than a single flight of stairs could account for; it seems as though he might have jogged here over some distance. He stops at the sight of her and for a moment almost looks as though he'll back out again. But he doesn't. He actually closed the door behind himself already, almost as though to prevent this. Loads of mixed signals, for a perceptive enough lady.
"Your — Siamus sent me for the ledger," he says. "The blue one?"
Avrenne looks up at Zath's entrance, and there's a small light up at the sight, as though she's turned a lamp up just a smidgen brighter. She doesn't look away from him as she points with complete certainty at the blue ledger to its exact location within the stack. "It should be just here, if I recall correctly." It's obviously an automatic softening phrase. She lowers her eyes a moment after to somewhere around his chest. "Shall I get it for you?"
"I can come fetch it," he says. "Unless it would disorder your…" He gestures at the stack. Still lingering by the door. His expression is soft, uncertain.
"No. It would not disorder anything, and I can always put it back into place," Avrenne says mildly, gesturing at the stack as she turns back to her papers. She isn't wearing her Composure, but she is rather calm and neutral. She hesitates, and then adds as though just providing information, "Sintha is not here. And Lord Bertrand left hours ago. I am not expecting anyone else for the rest of the afternoon, except when Siamus comes back upstairs." There might be, within the tone if not the words, a touch of hurt.
She's noticed, Zath.
Zath looks momentarily pained. "It's all right," he says softly. Then again, "It's all right. He said. That it's all right." He remains by the door.
Avrenne raises her brows. "Who said what was all right, Zath?" She is uncommonly canny, but she's not a mind reader.
"I didn't — he saw something in me, asked me too many questions, before I could wait for you to ask him properly. I am… sorry if I overstepped."
Avrenne's brows now go down in a faint frown of confusion as she sets both teacup and letters down. She adjusts her skirts, and then rises to an elegant stand, one hand set lightly on the table. Her expression is softer now. "Are you speaking of asking Siamus if I might take you for a lover?" She searches Zath's face. "I…I admit I did feel as though that conversation happened already, if not in the manner I expected it would."
He remains by the door, his gaze steady on her face. "That was not a conversation, Avrenne." He sighs softly. "I suppose a well-bred lady would not know of the ways in which some couples entertain themselves, but I assure you, inviting a third person to share a marital bed is not an answer to any question. It is a game that more married couples play than you might realize, because for most of them it means little. An evening's entertainment, tucked away when it is time to face the next day. Siamus was so lighthearted about it all — what else could I assume, but that I was there as an… enhancement to your marital intimacy?"
Avrenne steps forward, away from the table. "Oh, Zath," she says softly, shaking her head a little, her hair moving with the motion. "I told you, didn't I? I do not ever play a game with love. There will never be such a game for me, and I could never take you so lightly as that. And Siamus loves you. You are precious to him, not an evening's entertainment.
"That was not — none of this has been — done lightly. It meant something to me, that he, like you, would see me so clearly for what I wanted, even if I did not speak directly of it, to know that I would be willing. Siamus would have never offered me so, never touched me like that in front of you, if he had not known that I wanted you, trusted you with myself as I am in those private moments.
"I'm sorry, if I assumed that it was…more obvious than it was," she says as she takes another step towards him, watching his face as she holds out a hand that she might not have planned entirely to lift.
Zath closes the distance to seize that hand now and bring it to his lips. He holds it there a moment longer than necessary, then presses it to his heart. Which is beating, again, rather more quickly than a walk up the stairs can account for.
"I've been going mad," he says. "Mad." He looks down at her with eyes like a flame's heart.
Avrenne's own eyes are darker, her breathing faster in response to his, as she spreads her fingers over his heart, and lifts her other hand to his face, a light touch against his cheekbone. There's a soft, apologetic look on her face. "Is that why you have been avoiding me? I thought — ." She makes a faint sound. "I thought perhaps you had realized that it was all you wanted from me, nothing more. It is not all I want from you. I want to know you, in every way."
"No one knows me," he counters wryly, "perhaps not even myself. But I do want more. And what happened in that bed was not less. I have always had your loyalty, your kindness, your patience, your confidence. I have ruined your silk with blood and tears before Siamus ever threw us into bed together to ruin it with other things. But for all we have spoken and touched and even danced – that is what I was not allowed before: to see you bared, undone — and it has undone me, Avrenne. Without his blessing I could not trust myself with you anymore, trust myself not to say… or do… or plead for… things I thought were not mine to have, not unless he was here to witness and enjoy them."
"He's given his blessing," Avrenne says, with a level of confidence that comes from possibly more of a faith in Siamus than surety of words spoken. "And I have given you mine. You have me." She brushes her finger along his cheek. "You have ruined nothing of mine. Not the dress or anything else. Your touch, your blood, your tears — nothing of yours that touches me ruins me. I welcome it, because it's yours, and it's what I want. It's part of a man I love."
He wraps his arms around her, crushes her to him fiercely. "I'm mad for you both," he says hoarsely. "Together and separately. I'm a madman, Avrenne, this is no sedate and proper romance; I cannot make a contract of it. I want to devour you both and wrap myself around you and disappear into you. Worship you and crawl for you and wrap my hands around your throat and — I'm a madman — I am going mad." His voice and hands shake. "He is too carefree and you are too civilized for the way I love you both. It will settle into you like a poison, surely, and you will vomit me up to save yourselves!"
Avrenne goes softer in his arms for a moment, that yielding he's seen several times, and a tension building like a bow being strung. At the end of it, however, is a sharp intake of breath.
There's a shift in her, as she sets her hand against Zath's shirt, balling it into a fist, and with a level of power that Zath has not seen outside the ballroom, as she drives him backwards, as though in a very rough tango, up against the wall, by less physical strength and more sheer presence. In her face and hands is nothing of fear; that's desire, hot and burning, a fire in those eyes not just metaphorical but possibly slightly literal — the light of the room seems to be reflecting a little oddly in her eyes, too much like fire, oranges and reds.
Her hand releases his shirt only once he's pinned between her and the wall, going to his hair to drag him down closer to her, hand tight in a fist. Those hints he's seen before — of something in her that cannot be broken, that rises up in defiance, that refuses to yield in full, are there in her eyes — used now in a different way of something of a metaphor of a woman of fire ready to stand in a chaotic rain of it, knowing she cannot be destroyed by it, but flourish inside it.
"Do it." It's somewhere between a dare and a command, as she tips her chin up, not in that way of hers that is her armor, but in a deliberate exposing of her throat. "Devour me. Worship me. Take me, in the way you want." If you can.
The blue ledger can wait.
Time Passes
Avrenne's hand on her dress releases as she goes a little boneless, and Zath is doing most of the work of keeping her fully upright, as she leans against the wall, panting gently. It isn't long though, before she demands — not suggests, not presents information, but demands — "Come here. I want your mouth on mine." She's breathless, her voice dark smoke in the air.
Zath obeys. The lady has made Demands.
He does, however, pull out a handkerchief and wipe swiftly but efficiently at his mouth so that his first Actual Kiss with this impeccably dressed lady is not quite such a mess. He then tucks it away and leans in as though hypnotized, drawing out the moment before very lightly touching her lips with his.
Avrenne melts into it, wrapping both arms around his shoulders, and pulling him down more to her as she lifts up onto her toes to meet him halfway, one hand sliding into his hair, fingernails gently scratching in suggestions of pressure.
Both hands suddenly come up to cradle her face, and he lets out another sort of yearning sound that has nothing to do with yearnings already satisfied. He deepens the kiss, but not hungrily. Slow, searching. Please, open to me.
He lets out a little shiver, eyes closed, one thumb caressing her cheekbone.
Avrenne opens willingly, an easy yielding, a gentle sense that there isn't any barrier in his way at all.
He lingers in the kiss for a long while before drawing back, her face still between his hands. He gazes down at her, eyes soft, and one thumb shifts to touch her lower lip.
He murmurs tentatively, "Also mine?"
It's not entirely clear what he means, particularly since he's gazing at her mouth as he says it. Her mouth is also his for the kissing? She is his, as well as Siamus's? She belongs to Zath just as Siamus does? All of that, maybe?
Avrenne smiles up at him, that bright glow to her, so warm and soft that it once again calls into question her mask — how has she ever managed to convince him that she was cold and aloof? — as she sets her other hand over his. "Also yours." She strokes her fingers lightly against his fingers, the cold of his against the natural warmth of hers. "Also mine." Hers is not a question; it's something she believes.
He wraps his arms around her for a moment, holding her close, then releases her with obvious reluctance, hands sliding along her arms to catch her hands. "I'll get a towel," he says gently, still holding her warm hands in his cold ones. "For the floor. You can fetch the ledger out."
She leans forward to press a kiss to his fingers, her eyes on his. "Very well." There's a long searching look at his expression before she adds, voice quiet and soft, "Your love is not poison. It's like fire. And I am not afraid of fire, or its touch, even if it can burn as well as warm, blaze in anger or in protection. I will not let you go, no matter how hot you get, and I will never cast you off for the chaos of it." There's a brightness to her eyes, as she blinks a little faster. "Simply love me as you are, madness and all."
His eyes brighten with tears, and he turns away. Do not perceive. He clears his throat.
"Towel," he says, pointing toward the bedroom. Explaining why he is turning away, a very reasonable reason that has nothing to do with eye-water.
Avrenne makes a 'mm' sound. She doesn't let go of him, but she doesn't stop him from letting go of her. "I will get the ledger," she says gently.
Zath disappears into the next room for longer than it takes to get a towel, and when he comes out his eyes are somewhat red. But he smiles when he sees Avrenne: faint but unmistakable. He kneels down to attend to the floor.
"Thank the Light no one came in," he says. "I apologize; I wasn't thinking."
Avrenne has separated out the blue ledger, holding onto it with one hand, having returned to the table to stand by it. Her underwear has been put back on, or at least, it isn't on the ground anymore. She takes a sip of her tea. "Anyone who would have only walked in is either Siamus or Sintha. They both know, and while I would not want Sintha to see, well." She makes a rolling hand gesture in the air. Anything. Everything. "I am certain she is astute enough to realize before she came fully in what was happening, and turn around."
A faint flush steals over Zath's face, and he says nothing as he finishes cleaning the floor to perfection. He takes the towel back into the bathroom, then returns to the main room and slides his arms around Avrenne one more time, holding her tightly.
"It may take a while for me to… fully accept and understand," he says quietly, apologetically, into her hair. "It seems like a dream, and such things usually vanish all too soon. But right now…. right now I am… happy."
He says the word with something like disbelief. What even is that? Then he gently releases her and attempts to pluck the ledger from her hand.
Avrenne is beaming at him, a bright spark of a woman, a blazing fire of her own, as she lets him pluck the ledger from her hand, releasing it easily, reaching up to his face as she rises up on her toes for another kiss. "So am I," she says, warmth and a touch of delighted laughter in her voice.
He can't help but smile back a little, the curve of his mouth meeting hers as he kisses her once more, tender and a bit shy. He raises the ledger at her in a sort of salute before heading for the door.
Down the stairs with a lighter step than most have ever seen from him, and then he heads for Siamus's table at a brisk pace.
"Your ledger," he says wryly, placing it on the table with a firm and emphatic sound. "I did warn you there might be a delay."
"I did tell ye," says Siamus dryly, "that that was all fine wi' me, so long as I got my ledger. Aye?"
"And here it is." Zath adds a dramatic presentational flourish with his hand. Behind his lighthearted demeanor, he studies Siamus carefully.
"Ta," says Siamus with a smile; he's already reaching for the ledger. Also he doesn't mean that Ta. "Will ye ha'e a drink wi' me now, or d'ye still ha'e urgent business in the barracks?" (Very dry.) "I'm afraid I'll ha'e to order ye another, I did drink that one whilst ye left me unsupervised."
"Oh, the snow is likely too heavy now," he says airily, "so I may as well stay. But no more whiskey for you just yet, young man. You've had quite enough for this hour. And tea is fine for me as well." He settles into the other chair.
"Tch," says Siamus disapprovingly, and signals for the server.