Today is of the Cycle Of The Seventh Moon.
Current Season & Month:  , Year: 543 A.R. (ref)

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The Music Parlor [Estate Interior: GROUND FLOOR]


Lassroyale
(@lassroyale)
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Joined: 10 months ago
Posts: 706
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(Syltamul) MUSIC PARLOR

The Music Parlor


The Music Parlor is a spacious, yet comfortable room located on the Ground Floor of the Syltamul Estate.  The secluded parlor is situated at the end of a short hallway tucked up near the back of the East Wing of estate by the Guest Rooms, Libraries, Offices, and Sitting Parlors.  The Music Parlor also offers a pleasant view of Isabella’s Hedge Maze and a set of double French Doors opens up onto the Maze and East Estate Grounds. 

Musicians are encouraged to play the midnight black grand piano or the ornate gilded harp that are always on display, and other instruments can be found safely stored in large display cabinets against the far wall.  

 


DAETH

[OOC: from The Bedroom of Lord Callon Syltamul ]

[NPC's]

Spoiler
Lord Callon Syltamul

Lord Callon Syltamul(Elf Noble) 2

Spoiler
Lady Amarice ap Nudd-Syltamul

Lady Amarice apNudd Syltamul 1Lady Amarice apNudd Syltamul 3

 

═ ✽ ═

 

Daeth casually lounged in a shaft of sunlight on a loveseat next to one of the large windows in the Music Parlor, enjoying the heat on his skin as he stretched luxuriously. He draped his arms across the back of the loveseat and slouched back, reclining into the cushions as he extended his long legs in front of him, knees loosely bowed open.  It was a rumpled, indecent sort of sprawl, but Daeth really didn't care about what sort of figure he cut, gripped by his usual ambivalence and the drowsy warmth of the early afternoon sun.  He tipped his head back against the couch and resumed listening to the amusing repartee between the Lord and Lady of the estate, watching both of their lovely figures beneath a half-lidded gaze.

Said Lord and Lady were meticulously scheming planning every step of their afternoon outing to the Lavish Hand.  While neither husband or wife truly had much love lost between them, Daeth had come to see that what they didn't have in marital love, they made up for in a deep, mutual respect for one another.  He figured that's why they shared him without jealousy, both uncaring of whose bed he warmed at the end of the day as long as it was one of theirs and not anyone else's.  Daeth was willing to indulge them for now, although he thought it was rather cute that either of them actually thought they had any control over who he took to bed.  

Regardless, for now he was content to allow them the illusion of control, mostly because he was continually entertained by their possessiveness over him, which was antipodal to their almost compulsive need to flaunt what they had.  Daeth had suspected that they both gleaned immense pleasure from the envy of their peers, which, he supposed, explained the Masquerade Ball they were throwing in a few day's time. 

The invitations that had gone out indicated that the Syltamul's were having the ball, "In celebration of their most honored Guest," but Daeth (and doubtless everyone else) knew that it was  because they simply wanted to make people jealous.  According to Callon, it would be a veritable who's who of Liathlidor high society; with any luck (and careful manipulation of gossip in order to stir up anticipation) the ball would be the only topic of conversation both before and after the event.

Which brought everything back around to their strategically pre-planned, "surprise visit", to Vincen Chemaux.  Daeth had to admire the ruthless finesse in which the Syltamul's manipulated information.  

"Mirya" cooed Amarice, coming over to perch upon one of his knees.  She continued without preamble, almost breathless with anticipation.  "We are ready to depart.  The servant that went to The Lavish Hand ahead of us has sent word advising that the shop currently sits empty, save for Vincen himself. It is the perfect opportunity to pay Monsieur Chemaux, a visit."

At the sound of his pet name spoken in Amarice's musical voice, Daeth lifted his head and pinned her with his gaze.  He briefly, unintentionally, subjected her to the full intensity of his rich violet eyes before he blinked, breaking contact. 

He knew how careful he needed to be, how dangerous what truly lurked beneath the surface of his skin could be others.  In the past he's left people with broken minds  feverishly babbling about the "gaze of death", before they were invariably found dead the next day having gouged out their eyes - all because they'd looked into his own.  

Amarice seemed momentarily dazed but otherwise okay, and Daeth breathed in silent relief.  He sat up, a sly grin affixed to his face and bounced the golden haired Elfess on his knee to shake her out of her stupor.  Amarice quickly roused, her honey gold eyes refocusing on his grinning face, the tips of her pointed ears pinking as she was gently jostled up and down. 

He reached out and took her by the elbows, tugging her gently forward, purposely tipping her off balance.  He caught her with an arm looped around her waist as she fell towards him, her arms automatically coming up to brace herself.  He held her against him as she steadied herself, her soft hands pressed against his chest.  Amarice stayed like that for a minute before she pressed even closer, sliding her hands up and slipping one beneath his shirt collar, the other curving around the back of his neck to the base of his skull.  He could feel the beat of her heart in his own chest as she pressed flush against him,  her palm warm on his skin as she carded delicate fingers through the short hairs that just barely tickled his neck. 

It felt nice.  Daeth briefly indulged in the delicate scratch of her nails over his skin, making his scalp tingle pleasantly as she pushed her fingers through his hair.  After a moment or two, he leaned forward and looked up at her from beneath the fringe of his eyelashes, the former intensity of his gaze lessened and held in check.  He pressed a light kiss to the corner of her mouth, then spoke.

"Mea pulchellus Dryadalis," he all but purred.  "Well then, I suppose we better go and pay a visit to Vincen," he said.  He caught Callon watching them over Amarice's shoulder and gave a quick wink, then looked back at the pretty face of the Elfess ensconced on his lap.  His lips curved into a puckish grin as he continued.

"You know," he began in a purposively irreverent tone. "If m'Lord and Lady allow me, oh, ten minutes alone with the esteemed Monsieur Chemaux," he trailed off for effect, his grin widening.  He fixed her with a mock-serious stare, his purple eyes bright with savage amusement as he continued.  "Well, I can assure you that it's more than enough time to really give the gossips something to talk about."  He lowered his voice and leaned up to speak into her ear.

"I guarantee that Vincen's time wouldn't be wasted.  After all, you and Callon know quite well how effectively I use my time when pressed."  He nipped playfully at that pointed ear and abruptly stood, lifting Amarice with him.

When he set her on her feet and looked at her, he had to stifle a chuckle at the jealousy, eagerness, and desire that warred openly across her pretty face.  For all of their possessiveness, the prospective frenzy that would be kicked up in the wake of such an elegantly calculated coup d'etat, made it almost worth considering.   The Lord and Lady Syltamul exchanged a long glance, and Daeth could almost see it as they each weighed the pros and cons of what he'd said.  

Daeth turned so they wouldn't see the roll of his eyes.  He wasn't actually serious.  He just liked to rile them up, especially Amarice; she was so easy to fluster and was always extra enthusiastic later.  He sauntered to the door of the Music Parlor, pausing when he reached it. He leaned against the doorjamb and waited, raising a shapely brow at the pair of Elves when they finally turned to look at him.  A teasing smile briefly skittered across his face to show that he had been mostly kidding - mostly.  He gave an expressive shrug of his shoulder, as though to say, "it's up to you - I'm fine either way ." 

"M'Lord, M'lady," he said, nodding to each one in turn. "Shall we be away before the day grows too long?"

Daeth didn't wait for their answer as he pushed away from the dooframe and started down the hall.

 

═ ✽ ═

Spoiler
Mea pulchellus Dryadalis (Latin)
My beautiful Elf

Spoiler
Mirya (Elvish)
Beautiful (Refers only to art or artwork.  So she's calling him a 'beautiful work of art'.)

 

[OOC: Daeth and the Syltamuls to The Syltamul Estate: The Front Gates ]

TOM-CAT: Kiana Beach Battle (3/3) - ☆Try Again - ★Powder Keg - Soft,soft - ★Stupid Little Tom-Cat - ★Miiya & Cat-Tom - ★Sparring - ☆The Great Tipsu Hunt! - Stolen Kiss - ☆Not Cheshire - Returning to Her - ★Baths & Comfort - ☆Wings, Tails, & Love - ☆Cave Storms - Climbing the Walls - ★1st Kiss - ★Makeouts & Memories -★Laughter & Kisses
───────────
DAETH: Breaking Callon - Pleasure w/Pain - Sensing Death - ★Kissing Fate 2/2 - Precariously Balanced Nature - At Long Last, Eddellyn - Precipice - Entering the Hedge Maze - ★The Minotaur & The Labyrinth - Into the Aegis - Button Pressing - Thunder & Honey
───────────
RISQUÉ: Fun with Fisticuffs!
[Chatte]Enter Chatte - Chat w/Castor -Proposing the Race
──────────────────
[ ☆ = favorite / ★= extra fave]


Irihi liked
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Wynterleaf
(@wynterleaf)
Citizen Citizen
Joined: 9 months ago
Posts: 80
 

Eddellyn Wynterleaf 

[OOC: From The Grand Tiered Ballroom]

Wynterleaf had stealthily crept along the halls of the estate for what seemed hours until she was at last enough distance from the ballroom that the noise of the crowd was only barely perceptible. Guests and servants no longer crossed the corridors where she now found herself, their activities keeping them localised to the ballroom, for now, so she allowed some of the tension eased from her shoulders. Her guard was still up but her every step was no longer paced with having to pause and listen for the sound of anyone approaching. The area was no longer as brightly lit either, this portion of the estate not meant to be used by the guests, not that she thought that would deter anyone. In fact, from what Travion had told her, it was likely all part of the appeal of the masquerade to provide the perfect setting to conduct secret liaisons. With that in mind, she did still keep to the edge of the hallways, stepping from shadow to shadow, ducking from curtains and alcoves to help disguise her movements as best she could.

As she traversed the main floor, she stopped to test a few of the doors; when she found one unlocked, she did nothing more than poke her nose inside long enough to gauge the purpose of the room and search for an exit, before moving on to the next. So far, there was nothing that resembled a study or other room of business that would hold answers to any of her questions but that was to be expected. Those were likely to be located on the second floor, closer to the private quarters. Best, for now, to focus on finding a way outside to the maze where her gear awaited and once clothed for proper skulking, she would climb to the upper levels and make a more thorough search.

Several minutes more passed until she found herself at the end of a gallery on the eastern side of the estate, finding one last room unlocked. Like the others, it was dimly lit only by the light that streamed in through the windows on the opposite wall but it was enough to see the purpose of the room by the instruments that were on display in a beautifully decorated music room. Wynterleaf’s attention immediately traveled to the far side of the room to the glass-paneled doors and beyond, to what she thought appeared to be gardens. A brief flash of satisfaction crossed across her features that she had found an exit and was not going to have to resort to climbing out a window in her gown, not that she wouldn’t if there had been no other option.

On silent feet, she backed into the room, keeping an eye on the hall as she carefully pressed the door closed with a soft click and only had an instant to register she had missed something crucial as a sixth sense of warning pricked her skin. There was no sound or disturbance in the air that gave them away but without turning, she had the distinct feeling someone else was in the room. When there was no immediate exclamation over her presence, on her next inhale, she held her breath and cocked her head to listen intently. With luck, it was only someone sleeping, a servant trying to avoid duties or a maybe wayward guest needing a quiet moment. An odd sensation gripped her stomach, a mix of apprehension and adrenaline, as she slowly turned to take in the space.


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Lassroyale
(@lassroyale)
Patron Saint of Hawtbois, Catboys, & BAMF Babes Noble
Joined: 10 months ago
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DAETH

The Bearer of the Mark

and Sacrifice to none

╺ ✽ ╸

“The memory of you emerges from the night around me.”

– Pablo Naruda


[OOC: from the Grand Tiered Ballroom]

 

Daeth’s tete-a-tete with The Moirai left him with a lingering sense of disquiet wound around his bones, and he felt capricious and impulsive in the wake of their visit.  Restlessness dragged its claws down his spine, setting off a slow burn under his skin that left him wanting something he couldn’t exactly define.  It’s the same unexplainable yen that’s taken to assaulting his waking moments lately, that elusive strangeness that he can almost feel beneath the pads of his fingers when he slides them through the gauzy threads of early dawn; the one that made him crave things he couldn’t name, yet whose intangible shapes felt maddeningly familiar beneath the lines of his palms.  

It made his patience for suffering through the tedium of aristocratic drivel exceptionally thin, though he managed to keep his lips curved into an arresting smile and his demeanor casual, and, at times, dizzily seductive.  If he was surprised by how…forward, some of the Nobles were with him, both physically and in the rather scandalous utterances whispered into his ear, he didn’t show it.  Their advances were followed usually some variation of, ‘Meet me in one of the various rooms of the Syltamul Estate, and I’ll let you ___’,  which was followed by some very imaginative descriptions of a variety of acts,  that, while not new to him, at least amused Daeth in some capacity.  He was certain that, to them, much of what they were describing was considered racy if not outright debauched.  

He chuckled to himself.  If only they knew…

Daeth’s patience, however, simply disintegrated when he was confronted by the very beautiful, long-haired blonde,  Lord Coel of the Greater Noble House Montachade.  Oh, and his viper of a companion, the chevalier servant Dior Grayeus, who’s accusatory stare never wavered from him for even one instant.  It made Daeth want to roll his eyes and tell him not to worry, because as pretty as Coel was, the dark angel had taken an instant dislike to him. In fact, he’d found it increasingly difficult to maintain even an outward appearance of politesse in the face of the haughtiness and plain racism Lord Montachade proudly wore like they were the finest raiments.  Eventually, he began to outright insult Coel to his face, though you’d never know it from the manner in which the blonde Elf leaned in and responded like Daeth was offering to slam him up against the nearest wall and put on a show for the entire Masquerade.  (For the record: he was not.)  

After Coel sleazed into him and muttered something into his ear that Daeth found entirely unappealing, he grinned silkily in return and idly thought of all the ways in which he could break the svelte Elf, both mentally and physically.  He replied after a moment of consideration, his voice pitched to a low, honeyed tone that one could almost feel dragged down the length of their spine.

My Lord Montachade,” he said, slowly drawing back his lips into a sleek smile.  “Coel…”  Daeth dragged the Elf Lord’s name over his teeth as he tasted every syllable   “Podex perfectus es (You’re a complete a**hole),” he purposefully spoke in a low, throaty tone, forcing the other man to lean in to hear him.  “Quando podeces te regi eorum fecerunt? (When did the a**holes make you their king?)” He watched offhandedly as Coel’s pupils dilated behind his dark blue mask, his lip curling back into a brief sneer, the expression crossing his face like an afterthought, so quick as to be imagined.  They were drawn close enough that Coel could clearly see the intense hue of Daeth’s too-purple eyes.  He held the Elf’s gaze within their vibrant colored cage; burning, luring.  “Tuam matrim feci (I did your mother),” he paused, the edges of his smile as smooth as glass and twice as sharp.  “A tergo(In the a**).”  

Daeth could tell that the young Lord Montachade thought that he was making a pass at him, which was about as far from the truth as one could get.  Still, as amusing as it was to insult the arrogant Elf to his beautiful face, something within him had progressively grown more tempestuous and distracted.  He knew that he needed a moment to himself before he did something rash, like bring the full force of his gaze to bear upon the pretentious Elf, or allow him to truly see behind the mask and see the creature he really was.  He leaned forward and nestled his lips by one of Coel’s sharply pointed ears, chuckling coldly when the young Lord expelled a harsh breath as Daeth spoke, his words stirring the fine blonde hairs.

Si me rogas, potes abire et tu ipse futue, m’lord. (If you ask me, you can go f*ck yourself, m’lord.)he murmured, before turning away in clear dismissal.  He cut through the crowd, ignoring  the groping hands that reached out and sought his attention, some boldly tugging at his jacket as if trying to pull it off him or him out of it.  He slipped into the hallway, nobles hot on his heels, but melted into the shadows and disappeared as he turned a corner.

 

╺ ✽ ╸

 

Daeth released a relieved sigh as he stepped out from a deep strip of shadow near the far end of the Music Parlor, and saw that the room was mercifully empty.  The room wasn’t cast into full darkness, the space softly lit by the luminescence of the pale moonlight streaming in through the large picture windows, as well as a few strategically placed, glowing magic orbs tucked low into the corners.  It allowed for a certain low level of visibility, while also maintaining enough shadowed areas for anonymity during a quick tryst or longer engagement.  Daeth was just happy to have a moment alone to himself to get his thoughts back into order and maybe mull over everything (sparse as it was) that the Three Fates revealed to him.

He dropped into the loveseat he’d reclined upon a few days prior, opposite from the doors leading out into the garden maze.  He considered heading out to his Aegis at the maze’s heart, but decided against it, not wanting to draw undue attention to himself.  Instead, the dark angel stretched his arms across the back of the sofa and his legs out before him, knees loose and bowed open in a decadent sprawl.  He released a sigh as he removed his mask and tucked it into his jacket, then tipped back his head, exposing the long line of his throat and the sculpted edge of his jaw as he rested his head against the back of the loveseat and closed his eyes.

Daeth only had a fraction of a second as a thrill of bone-deep knowing cracked through him like chain lightning, igniting a deeply buried ache within him, before the door to the Music Parlor was opened and then eased shut.  Without even opening his eyes, he knew who was.  

There was no breath in his chest; Time seemed to stand still.  

His throat was suddenly dry; even if he’d wanted to, his throat refused to stretch to accommodate the shape of the words that would not come.  There were no words he could smith to convey the enormity of what he felt, the enormity of what Her being in his presence after so long apart, was doing to him.

Then there was no more time, because she turned towards him...

…and Daeth lifted his head, opened his bright amethyst eyes, and met the steely, grey-eyed gaze of his bandit.

Her.

Eddellyn.

TOM-CAT: Kiana Beach Battle (3/3) - ☆Try Again - ★Powder Keg - Soft,soft - ★Stupid Little Tom-Cat - ★Miiya & Cat-Tom - ★Sparring - ☆The Great Tipsu Hunt! - Stolen Kiss - ☆Not Cheshire - Returning to Her - ★Baths & Comfort - ☆Wings, Tails, & Love - ☆Cave Storms - Climbing the Walls - ★1st Kiss - ★Makeouts & Memories -★Laughter & Kisses
───────────
DAETH: Breaking Callon - Pleasure w/Pain - Sensing Death - ★Kissing Fate 2/2 - Precariously Balanced Nature - At Long Last, Eddellyn - Precipice - Entering the Hedge Maze - ★The Minotaur & The Labyrinth - Into the Aegis - Button Pressing - Thunder & Honey
───────────
RISQUÉ: Fun with Fisticuffs!
[Chatte]Enter Chatte - Chat w/Castor -Proposing the Race
──────────────────
[ ☆ = favorite / ★= extra fave]


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Wynterleaf
(@wynterleaf)
Citizen Citizen
Joined: 9 months ago
Posts: 80
 

Eddellyn Wynterleaf

It was a foolish mistake, one of novice level proportions that she would never be able to live down if anyone found out, but she had failed to check if the room was empty before entering. A dozen excuses sprang to mind to explain her presence but all of them burned to dust on her tongue as she turned and saw the occupant.

Wynterleaf wanted to believe it was a trick of the low light and the mask covering her face even as she knew that wasn’t the case.

Opposite the French doors on the loveseat, reposed like a wild cat freshly sated after a hunt and dressed in the very best velvets and silks, was the last person in the worlde she expected to see.

Eyes of wintery grey locked with those of heliotrope.

Daeth.

Her body jolted with the same jarring sensation a person got when they expected one more step descending stairs but found they had already reached the bottom. For the second time that evening, she had been taken completely unaware by her past catching up with her; if she were a superstitious person she would have wondered if a curse had been placed on her head. As it was, she couldn’t suppress the shiver that traced down her spine. There was a Uman phrase that seemed appropriate at this moment - there were ghosts walking over her grave.

She stared at him for a full second, drinking in the sight of him in that look before she abruptly tore her gaze away. He was the last person she had thought to find here but at the same time, she wasn’t shocked. The whispers and rumors of the masquerade's guest of honor fell into place and it now made sense to her. A quick replay of recent gossip played through her mind; she couldn’t guess at his reasons for attaching himself to the Syltamuls but from all accounts, his time with them could not have been a hardship. She bit back a snort and told herself that it didn’t matter to her why he was here. It didn’t.

This was not the time or place she would have picked to run into him but there was nothing to be done for it now, it could not change her plans but neither she couldn’t feign indifference. With nothing more than a flicker of her eyes once more in his direction, she crossed the music room to the French doors and exited into the gardens. Wynterleaf drew the door partially closed behind her, leaving it unlatched should he care to follow after. She mentally chided herself, should he care? Who was she kidding, more than anything, she hoped he did care but at the same time, she wished he wouldn’t, as she had no idea what to say to him.

A thousand times she had rehearsed the words she'd wished she had said the last time they saw one another but not one of those came to mind now that she had the opportunity to say them. The intervening years had changed and reshaped her life a dozen times over, fading the blunt edge of her anger and erasing her insecurities since that time in Seven Oaks, until she could no longer remember the exact reasons for giving him the slip as she did. Yet another lie she told herself.

Wynterleaf moved deeper in the night, through the gardens to the manicured hedges that marked the beginning of a maze, her thoughts still jumbled as she looked for gear.

Her lips wordlessly shaped his name.

Daeth.

Was that the sound of a French door latching behind her?

She huffed out a breath and began looking in earnest for her gear, locating it within minutes just inside the entrance to the maze. Wynterleaf found the hilt of her sword and gripped it tightly, finding comfort in the familiar weight as she checked the rest of the bundle, finding all exactly as it had been when she packed it.

The mundane task did nothing to settle her thoughts though, the foremost of which that she owed him an apology. The next being that she had to search the estate tonight while everyone was distracted. An explanation for the why and whereof her reasons for being at the masquerade, and even Ufaeria, were on her mind but that was not something she wanted to explain just yet because it got too close to the vow she had made to another man. She felt trapped, the feeling unpleasant, so she embraced that sensation close to her heart to steel herself for what was coming.

Vasta!” she breathed out the curse, the whisper loud in the stillness of the garden.

With no choice but to confront the inevitable, she turned back to face the path from the mansion. Dressed in her masquerade finery of a navy blue gown and mask, she clutched at her sword, keeping the tip lowered to the ground, her other arm tucked around her pack, and waited.


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Lassroyale
(@lassroyale)
Patron Saint of Hawtbois, Catboys, & BAMF Babes Noble
Joined: 10 months ago
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DAETH 

The Bearer of the Mark 

and Sacrifice to none 

╺ ✽ ╸ 

Our parting was like a stalemate…. Neither of us won.  Neither of us lost.   And worst still…that unshakeable feeling that nothing was ever really finished. 

– Ranata Suzuki 

 

The world seemed to narrow until the only things it contained were Daeth, Eddellyn, and the almost palpable connection of their locked gazes.  It felt like the air grew thick and heavy as time dilated and slowed, stretched and pulled string-thin like taffy on a puller.  Christ, he could just about feel her eyes rake over him like the barely-there sensation of nails scraped against his scalp.  It made something jerk in his chest, a violent knot of emotions he can’t parse right then, feeling bleeding into one another until it’s all just one, messy, seething mass of growing intensity that he doesn’t care to try and define.  Not right then.  Maybe not ever. 

Because if Daeth is sure of anything, it’s that seeing Eddellyn has awoken a bone-deep craving within him from a place that he’d thought was long dead and buried.  Or maybe he’d just been fooling himself, all this time, ever since..

she left.  No, that wasn’t exactly right.  Ever since she fled him.  He viscerally jerked at the thought, at the memory.

Of course, that wasn’t the last time he’d seen her; Seven Oaks hadn’t been the last place he’d set eyes on his bandit Eddellyn.  She’s not his anymore.  He can’t claim that, not since– Daeth scowled to himself.  He doesn’t want to think about that.  Not when she’s right there.  Well, right outside, although he understood the meaning of the partially open door as if she’d spelled it out for him.  She wanted him to follow.

How could he deny the request? 

He wouldn’t. 

He can’t.  

Daeth walked away from Eddellyn twice, both times without her knowledge.  And both times it was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, even if it was, ostensibly, because it was the right decision.  At least it’d seemed like the right decision at the time, bitter as that pill was to swallow.  Both times, it had taken a nigh-herculean effort to turn his feet and walk away from her, for her.  For her happiness.  For her well-being.  For her, because her life would be and had been better with somebody else.  Someone who was about as far from him as one could get. 

That realization had been like getting crucified by War, all over again.  

It’d taken him a while to get over that one.

So Daeth had forced himself to walk away from her twice.  He can’t do it a third time.  He won’t.  Not now.  He still can’t decide if it was a mistake the first two times.  He knew it’d be a mistake to let her go a third time, if he let her walk out of his life.  He knew he was too weak to let her go, again.  Maybe it’s ultimately selfish.  It probably was.  He’s a selfish being on the best of days, but this felt different.  

Or so he told himself.

The decision was made for him when he felt, rather than heard, Eddellyn wordlessly say his name.  

Daeth.  

He doesn’t examine how he knew she’d said it, soundless, wordless; he only knew with a certainty he felt in his bones, that she’d said it.  It was like a clarion call.

The dark angel rose smoothly from his seat and exited the Music Parlor with a soft click of the double doors.  She was waiting for him a few feet away from the steps down to the gardens.  Daeth held her gaze as he descended the steps, no words passing his lips as he silently strode across the manicured lawn and met her at the Entrance to the Hedge Maze.

 


[OOC: post continued at Isabella's Hedge Maze - Entrance]

TOM-CAT: Kiana Beach Battle (3/3) - ☆Try Again - ★Powder Keg - Soft,soft - ★Stupid Little Tom-Cat - ★Miiya & Cat-Tom - ★Sparring - ☆The Great Tipsu Hunt! - Stolen Kiss - ☆Not Cheshire - Returning to Her - ★Baths & Comfort - ☆Wings, Tails, & Love - ☆Cave Storms - Climbing the Walls - ★1st Kiss - ★Makeouts & Memories -★Laughter & Kisses
───────────
DAETH: Breaking Callon - Pleasure w/Pain - Sensing Death - ★Kissing Fate 2/2 - Precariously Balanced Nature - At Long Last, Eddellyn - Precipice - Entering the Hedge Maze - ★The Minotaur & The Labyrinth - Into the Aegis - Button Pressing - Thunder & Honey
───────────
RISQUÉ: Fun with Fisticuffs!
[Chatte]Enter Chatte - Chat w/Castor -Proposing the Race
──────────────────
[ ☆ = favorite / ★= extra fave]


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