Sparks Fly


Offline Araceli Ribeiro

Sparks Fly
« on: February 05, 2018, 04:55:13 PM »
I believe that there's hope
A memory remains just a tiny spark.

Who would stay, who would go.

That had been Araceli’s focus since the harvest. The ruling queens had given one final grumble before turning back to their own holdings. Winter would be peaceful, even if she wasn’t in Shalador to make certain of it. They would be fed, they would have no excuse to continue complaining that Shalador wouldn’t have enough food for themselves. Mother Night, how they had survived the fall without someone dying during those meetings would forever be a wonder to her. A few weeks away from such a spiteful lot would be refreshing.

A few weeks away from home would do everyone some good. Well everyone except for those left here. Ara was fairly certain she’d come back to find everyone cowering in the cellars away from Mari. Darkness knew she’d been tempted to twist her sister’s arm with protocol instead of reason but that was the cost of having a sister and healer like Mari. She wanted to come and Araceli wanted, no needed her to stay in Shalador. Who would keep the court from falling down a well and drowning, she’d reasoned.

Aly to take over until she returned, and most of her triangle and court to remain as a buffer between the young queen and the rest of the territory. Especially if her visit ran past Winsol, poor Aly would need that buffer. Which left Ara to decide on guards. Wearing the Sapphire hardly meant anything if her court refused to let her cross the gate unattended. Senseless worry she’d called it but she’d indulge them all the same. Which left her at one last visit before she could safely tuck herself away in her room for the evening.

Finding Remy was easy enough with a careful probe. She didn’t dare to try a thread, that would betray the near constant flutter in her stomach. No time to indulge that, she had too much to do, always too much to do. Just like now. Work, not play, she had to keep reminding herself of that even with the silly little grin creeping across her face. “Lord Ibarra.” This was definitely work, work while she strangled herself mentally. “Can I steal you away for a bit? It’s about the Little Terreille trip.”



Offline Remy Ibarra

Re: Sparks Fly
« Reply #1 on: February 05, 2018, 07:11:36 PM »
The whole territory was preoccupied with the same question. Especially Remy.

Would he have to stay? Would he be allowed to go?

His concerns, of course, were far less focused on Shalador as a whole. It was his birthplace, he loved it, pride, honor, position blah blah blah. All those things he was supposed to say and feel for the territory he called home. He knew the lines and recited them whenever asked. But at the end of the day when he stepped out of his boots and into his bed Shalador was only special because it was Ara’s place. The land that sung her name loudest when he raced over the grace. The place she was happiest, and where her garden grew.

If she was going to Little Terreille, then he wanted to go to. It was his job. They paid him to do it and everything. To protect the Queen. With a capital Q and everything. But the title was technically master of the guard. Could one really master a bunch of guardsmen from across the realm? She had competent escorts to choose from. Any number of men to line up if she called. The looming possibility of being left behind had twisted at the pit of his stomach for days.

Until he was as sour faced as that poor Amets fellow. Not as sulky, to be sure, but the gravity of his worry weighed down the spunk in his step. Made his smile slower to flicker across his lips. At least he had a good, reasonable outlet. Sparring and drills to pass the time and burn the energy he would otherwise pour into worry. So it was, he had just come in from an overly long session of stick fighting when his lady cornered him in the wide room they called the barracks. Half office, half meeting room. All musky with sweat and dirty boots.

He paused in the middle of pulling his damp shirt over his head. Watched the smile blossom across her face. A trick? He worried. Sweet face to ease the sting of refusal? Shifting his weight he smoothed the shirt back down. His hand smudging a short streak of dirt. ”Of course, lady.”

Smooth as ever he leaned against the wall with a loud clack as his antler collided with the brickwork. ”Ow.” Remy smirked, rubbing the place the bony appendage attached to his skull. It felt nice. So he scratched it another second. ”Let me just switch into a clean shirt?” Unless she was in a hurry. Which was fine. Fine. He would be fine.

hello, darling

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