Siorus Cadigan
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Lapinou-minou
Bann of Lostwhithiel
Posts: 1,334
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Post by Siorus Cadigan on Dec 28, 2011 11:08:38 GMT -5
((20 Cloudreach, Afternoon. Lostwhithiel Castle))
Siorus looked up from the book spread across his desk and blinked into diminishing daylight. Frowning, he glanced over his shoulder at the wide window. The sky retained the brightness of day, but the sun had passed beyond the corner of the castle. It was afternoon.
Stifling a yawn, Siorus scrubbed at his face and peered back down at the book he’d been reading. He remembered it from his childhood, vaguely. It was a large book, one that required a desk to support its weight, but he recalled trying to set it across eight year old knees and cursing his lap for not quite being big enough. The book featured a history, somewhat akin to a lineage, of every known grape variety – or every known variety that had existed at the time of its publication, which meant it was about twenty years out of date. As a child, Siorus had found the individual ‘stories’ fascinating. As an adult, he still enjoyed the historical aspect of each chapter; in fact, he had become so absorbed that not only had he not noticed the passage of time, he had not reached the chapter he had intended to read.
With a wry smile, Siorus closed the book and leaned back in his chair. Muscles along his shoulders protested the movement, letting him know he’d been sitting for entirely too long. He stood, twisted his torso, frowned as his spine popped, and stretched his arms over his head. More tendons moved and cracked.
Deciding he needed proper exercise, Siorus left the study and went to find Sol. He wanted to take a walk in the south vineyards, inspect the vines, add some practical knowledge to all the theory he had been absorbing. He thought Sol might enjoy the view – if she did not appreciate the regular rows of vines, then the glint of the basin at the bottom might please her – and he would enjoy her company. Things had been easy between them since he had returned from Lothering. Sol had used his absence to venture from the castle and mingle with the villagers, and the outing had done her the world of good. A quick smile caught his mouth as he recalled the exuberance with which she had shared her success and her plans. He had been proud of her accomplishments. It might seem a small thing, leaving the castle, but it was not, and though he did not effuse, he had tried to let her know he approved.
Siorus found Sol in the first place he looked, the greenhouse. Grasping the door frame, he leaned slightly into the structure and spied Sol in the near corner, utterly absorbed in her work. Without stopped to consider what in Thedas possessed him, Siorus dropped his hand and lightened his step. He managed to walk right up behind her without catching her attention. Leaning forward, he murmured, “Hello.”
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Post by Renée Cadigan on Dec 28, 2011 12:15:06 GMT -5
Sol frowned at the book laid out on the table before her. Then she blinked, and followed up the blink with brushing her hand over the words on the page, sure that some stray particles of soil had obscured the text. That had to be the reason why the words were difficult to read, no?
Grumbling a little under her breath, she squinted, and finally the words came into focus again. She read a few lines, then turned to the sample vine she had before her, checking the reality against the theory. She had to blink again to force her eyes to focus once more. Sacrement, it was annoying. Squinting again, she identified the parts of the vine that the text referred to, then turned her gaze back to the book, moving onto the next part—as soon as her eyes would cooperate.
"Hello."
Sol cried out, spinning, one hand outstretched to ward off the speaker. She managed to pull back her magic at the last moment; revealing it would spell the end of whoever had startled her, and she did not want that on her conscience.
Instead of a stranger's face, though, a familiar shock of blond hair and mischievous grey eyes greeted her. Siorus's lips were quirked in that damnable half-grin he favored. Her brow wrinkled and she slapped her hand against his chest.
"Fils de pute. You scared me." She scowled at him, then turned back to her work. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to disturb a mage in her studies?" she asked over her shoulder.
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Siorus Cadigan
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Lapinou-minou
Bann of Lostwhithiel
Posts: 1,334
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Post by Siorus Cadigan on Dec 28, 2011 15:01:33 GMT -5
Sol did not see the humour in his surprise, which Siorus had expected. As he had not sought to amuse her, but himself, he maintained his grin as she slapped his chest and scowled.
"Fils de pute. You scared me." She turned back to the book she had open behind her. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to disturb a mage in her studies?"
“Apparently not,” he answered, leaning forward a little more so he could read over her shoulder. The scent of her skin filled his nostrils and Siorus inhaled slowly, the ever present desire he carried for Sol stirring. This close, he could feel the warmth of her and his fingers itched to creep over her hips. He had not come out to the green house to indulge in that particular exercise, however, so he constrained himself to a small kiss, a brief brush of lips to her ear, before leaning back again, away from temptation.
A relaxed smile replacing his grin, he stated his purpose. “I plan to walk in the southern vineyard and wondered if you might join me. It is not so cold out this afternoon and all this reading is bad for your eyesight.”
He probably did not need to provide a list of reasons why she should accompany him, but did so out of habit. Of course, it did not occur to him to simply say he desired her company, but if he did not want her company, he would not be here asking, hm?
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Post by Renée Cadigan on Dec 28, 2011 15:12:39 GMT -5
Siorus was obviously amused at startling her, as she thought he would be. Damn the man and his games. The thought did not have much fire behind it, though; she didn't mind Siorus's games so much, and she'd managed to refrain from using lightning, so there was nothing lost.
He pressed a kiss to her ear and a smile curved her lips even as she tilted her head away from him to provide better access. Is that why he'd darkened her door, then? The good bann required an afternoon distraction? She wouldn't say no, though the greenhouse was not the most comfortable environment for such a thing. Perhaps she should start keeping blankets out here...
Instead of continuing his caress, though, Siorus pulled away, then revealed his true plans. “I plan to walk in the southern vineyard and wondered if you might join me. It is not so cold out this afternoon and all this reading is bad for your eyesight.”
She frowned at the book and its tiny little letters. A headache was definitely beginning to form behind her eyes, she couldn't deny it. It was odd, because she'd studied for hours as an apprentice and a mage without any ill effects. Perhaps the Tower's books had had larger print?
"I think that's an excellent plan, my lord," she said, a teasing lilt to her voice. She closed the tome with a thump, then turned to Siorus with a bright smile.
"What's special about the southern vineyard?" she asked, weaving her arm through his as they began to walk.
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Siorus Cadigan
Inactive
Lapinou-minou
Bann of Lostwhithiel
Posts: 1,334
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Post by Siorus Cadigan on Dec 29, 2011 10:49:05 GMT -5
"I think that's an excellent plan, my lord."
Siorus scowled at the mage’s back, in good humour, and let her catch the fleeting expression as she turned around, her smile matching the teasing note in her voice.
"What's special about the southern vineyard?" she asked, her arm looping through his.
Arching a brow down at their joined arms, Siorus snorted softly, but allowed Sol to remain joined to his side. He did not want to spoil either of their moods with an objection to what most people might find completely normal. Glancing upward, he offered a quick smile before answering the question.
“The southern vineyard does not get as much sun as those on the northern side of the castle. The slope of the land leaves it in shadow for longer in the mornings and the evenings and it catches more of the cooler air from the lake,” he explained. “The variety of grape planted there takes advantage of the conditions.”
Siorus continued talking as they exited the keep and the castle proper, detailing further the conditions in the southern vineyard, why they were important and why he wanted to visit it now – the primary reasons being that they vines would bud last and were in more danger of rot. He wanted to inspect them. The conversation (dissertation?) distracted him from the curious and annoyingly smug glances from various staff as they noted their lord and his lady walking arm in arm, and he managed to maintain his genial mood until they reached to top slope of the vineyard. There he paused to take in the view – a reason for visiting he had not detailed, but appreciated nonetheless.
Regular rows of vines covered several acres of the slope, the bottom edge bordered with a hawthorn hedge that separated the field from the road. Siorus had pruned only the top acre of the field, knowing they could not adequately care for and harvest more. The rest of the field would flower and fruit, though the tangled and overgrown vines would further shade the grapes, leaving them smaller than they should be and making them hard to cut.
Next year, he promised himself.
Beyond the road, the land continued to slope down toward the smaller cousin of Lake Calenhad, locally known as the basin. The angle of the afternoon light caused the water to glint and sparkle. Siorus remembered finding the view – the rows of vines narrowing toward the bottom of the field, the thick line of the hedge, the band of green and the final border of something that seemed almost insubstantial – mesmerizing.
“In the early morning, mist rises off the water, sometimes obscuring the road. I remember pushing through the hedge into this other world, one where I could not see my hands before me.” Siorus snorted. “It is good the road is quiet, hm? No teams of oxen about to run down curious little boys.”
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Post by Renée Cadigan on Dec 30, 2011 11:17:58 GMT -5
Siorus arched his brows at their joined arms, but did not protest; in fact, he offered her a quick smile before he began explaining why a trip to the southern vineyard was required. There was a uniqueness to the southern portion, he explained. It received less sun than the northern side of the vineyards, and therefore a different sort of grape grew there.
Siorus continued speaking as they walked, and Sol nodded and asked questions where appropriate. He revealed that he wanted to inspect the vines, since they were more likely to succumb to rot. He paused as they crested the top slope of the vineyard, and Sol looked out to take in the view.
She'd seen similar sights during her travels across Orlais, Antiva, and elsewhere. Vineyards were common enough, particularly in the more temperate climes of the northern countries. Looking out over this one felt different, though. Glancing at the man beside her, she knew why.
In Siorus's expression, she saw memories, appreciation, pride, and a little bit of dreaming. This life he'd decided to claim—it meant a great deal to him.
“In the early morning, mist rises off the water, sometimes obscuring the road. I remember pushing through the hedge into this other world, one where I could not see my hands before me.” He snorted. “It is good the road is quiet, hm? No teams of oxen about to run down curious little boys.”
"Very good," Sol agreed softly, a little stunned at the whimsy he'd just expressed. It was good to know that, although Siorus had been, no doubt, a quiet boy, he had still had an imagination.
Squeezing his arm just slightly, she pulled away and turned to the vines. "So, what are we looking for? Black spots, the usual signs of rot? Or is there something specific?"
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Siorus Cadigan
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Lapinou-minou
Bann of Lostwhithiel
Posts: 1,334
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Post by Siorus Cadigan on Dec 30, 2011 13:56:34 GMT -5
The soft sound of Sol’s voice barely interrupted his introspective moment and Siorus remained caught somewhere between the past and present, his thoughts unraveling in an unusual fashion. With the exception of the last year – and perhaps the sternness of his father – he had enjoyed his childhood in Lostwhithiel. It had been the most idyllic time in his life. Like any small boy, he had had his share of frustrations, particularly regarding his size and perceived shyness, but neither had bothered him overly much. He had always felt he could overcome both, given time, and he had been aware of the support of his parents, even if his father’s affections had been somewhat gruff.
Sometimes, not often, he wondered who he would be if nothing had changed – if his mother had not died, if his father had not become mad with grief. Before his thoughts could take that particular path, Sol spoke again, asking what to look for on the vines.
“Anything significant,” Siorus answered, turning his attention to the vines once more. “I checked for anything pervasive when pruning the vines. I found a few instances of rot, but could not determine if they were due to neglect or disease.”
The bright green buds before him looked healthy and a casual survey of the pruned vines showed a fairly uniform spread of colour. Siorus intended walk between each row of vines rather than trust such a cursory inspection, however. Moving to the end of the first row, he indicated Sol should take the row next to him and began walking down the slope, pausing now and again to feel a leaf or inspect a spot.
“Would testing vines in a section of the green house interest you?” Siorus asked after a while. He looked up. “I have the recipes for some fungicides and the notes on which are the most effective. But, some diseases are resistant to such things.” He frowned. “It would be... difficult to watch my inheritance burn because I had not been vigilant.” Siorus did not anticipate having to take such drastic measures and hoped that early detection of any problems would prevent such a tragedy.
Shaking his head, he offered Sol a grim smile. “Pessimism invites such things, does it not? I should imagine my success instead.” His smile crooked up on one side and he turned back to his vines.
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Post by Renée Cadigan on Dec 30, 2011 19:59:46 GMT -5
“Anything significant,” Siorus instructed. He went on to say that he'd done a check already, when he'd pruned the vines, but he hadn't been able to determine if the cases of rot he'd found had originated with disease or neglect. He started down one row, then indicated that Sol should look at the other. She did so.
The vines looked good, upon a casual glance. Every few steps, Sol would lift a leaf to look at a vine more closely, to see if the darkness she'd spotted was rot or merely shadow. Thus far, she found only shadows marring the vine, nothing more.
“Would testing vines in a section of the green house interest you?”
Sol looked up, over the vines stretched between them, to meet Siorus's grey eyes. “I have the recipes for some fungicides and the notes on which are the most effective," he continued. A frown creased his brow. "But, some diseases are resistant to such things. It would be... difficult to watch my inheritance burn because I had not been vigilant.”
"I can imagine," she said, looking out over the vineyard. The vines gave the illusion of a green mist, an ethereal feeling that meshed with what Siorus had mentioned earlier, about the fog drifting from the basin.
With a shake of his head, Siorus gave her a smile without much warmth to it. “Pessimism invites such things, does it not? I should imagine my success instead.”
"Superstitious, Siorus?" Sol arched a brow at him, chuckling softly. "As to your earlier question, yes, I'd like to test some vines in the greenhouse. It would be prudent, no? How many varieties do you grow? I should test each, with the various fungicides...we don't want to save one variety and poison another."
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Siorus Cadigan
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Lapinou-minou
Bann of Lostwhithiel
Posts: 1,334
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Post by Siorus Cadigan on Dec 31, 2011 10:52:13 GMT -5
"Superstitious, Siorus?"
Siorus glanced over to find Sol regarding him with an amused expression. Rather than admit that, yes, he was superstitious, he answered her with a smirk, eyes light with humour, and returned to his task.
"As to your earlier question,” Sol continued, “yes, I'd like to test some vines in the greenhouse. It would be prudent, no?” He nodded toward the leaf he inspected. “How many varieties do you grow? I should test each, with the various fungicides...we don't want to save one variety and poison another."
Brow furrowed, Siorus rubbed the leaf delicate leaf caught between thumb and forefinger, then dropped it. He had not considered that particular disaster – that the cure for one might be the poison for another. Shaking his head, he glanced up with a curious smile, one of wry mischief. “No, we do not.” His smile widened. “I am unused to poisoning... plants.”
Looking back at the vines, Siorus shook his head in bemusement, then named the variety for Sol. “These are Mont-de-Glace, from the extreme southern portion of Orlais. They were grafted on to local rootstock when first imported.” Tugging on one of the leaves, he mused, “I suppose they are Ferelden grapes now.” He smiled at Sol. “Given the political climate after these were imported, they are known locally by a more acceptable name, Grawnwyn.” Grawnwyn was the name applied to the wine they produced as well, a red wine of deep colour, but deceptively light flavour, or so he’d heard. Siorus had not actually tried it. “The wine these grapes produce is the most sought after of all Lostwhithiel wines.”
“The grapes in the northern and western vineyards are all Arbor grapes, another Orlesian variety with a more acceptable name.” He winked. The Arbor grapes produced a hearty red wine well suited to the Ferelden palate. The various Lostwhithiel brandies the vineyard was also well known for were distilled from that wine.
“According to the cellar notes, one of the wines is a blend of both grapes,” Siorus continued. “My father described it as a fickle wine.” He shrugged. “I think he meant it was...” One corner of his mouth quirked upward, “unpredictable.”
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Post by Renée Cadigan on Dec 31, 2011 12:25:25 GMT -5
Siorus agreed that poisoning one variety to save another was a bad scenario. His wry smile widened. “I am unused to poisoning... plants.”
Smiling, Sol rolled her eyes and turned back to the vines in front of her.
“These are Mont-de-Glace, from the extreme southern portion of Orlais. They were grafted on to local rootstock when first imported,” he said. “I suppose they are Ferelden grapes now. Given the political climate after these were imported, they are known locally by a more acceptable name, Grawnwyn. The wine these grapes produce is the most sought after of all Lostwhithiel wines.”
Sol snorted. "Funny that an Orlesian grape would produce Ferelden's favorite wine. We are not all bad, hm?" She shot a grin at him.
“The grapes in the northern and western vineyards are all Arbor grapes, another Orlesian variety with a more acceptable name.” He winked at her, an expression Sol had never expected from Siorus. Her smile grew.
“According to the cellar notes, one of the wines is a blend of both grapes,” Siorus continued. “My father described it as a fickle wine. I think he meant it was...” A corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Unpredictable.”
She returned the quirk of his lips with an arch of one brow. The pointed comment was too hard to miss. "Are you comparing me to a wine, Siorus?" She giggled. "As long as it tastes all right, I won't complain. And is this 'unpredictable' blend your favorite, out of all Lostwhithiel's wines?"
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Siorus Cadigan
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Lapinou-minou
Bann of Lostwhithiel
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Post by Siorus Cadigan on Dec 31, 2011 13:17:13 GMT -5
Meeting his half grin with an upraised brow, Sol asked, "Are you comparing me to a wine, Siorus?"
“Perhaps I am,” he answered, his tone almost neutral. He could do nothing about the grin stealing across his mouth.
Sol giggled. "As long as it tastes all right, I won't complain. And is this 'unpredictable' blend your favorite, out of all Lostwhithiel's wines?”
Brow lightly furrowed, Siorus admitted, “I have not tasted it. I do not drink wine.”
After setting out on his own, Siorus had barely been able to afford ale, let alone wine, though he now understood most taverns offered what he might call watered barrel scrapings for about the same price as weak ale. It would never have occurred to him to order it, however. Men, in his fifteen-year-old opinion, did not drink wine, they drank whiskey, and so he had aspired to when he’d had sufficient coin. Later, he had avoided drinking wine for reasons he’d rather not dwell on and found easy to discard in his current mood. Today he felt good humoured and content, his memories were pleasant.
Moving along to the next vine, he spoke over his shoulder. “I imagine it is lighter than the Red and sweeter than the Grawnwyn.” He based his supposition on what he’d read rather than any actual knowledge. “There are bottles from nearly every vintage in the cellar if you would like to try it.”
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Post by Renée Cadigan on Dec 31, 2011 13:32:43 GMT -5
A slight frown upon his face, Siorus admitted, “I have not tasted it. I do not drink wine.”
Sol froze, then looked at him, a dumbfounded expression crossing her features. "Siorus..."
“I imagine it is lighter than the Red and sweeter than the Grawnwyn,” he said over his shoulder as he worked on the next vine. “There are bottles from nearly every vintage in the cellar if you would like to try it.”
A wide smile broke over her lips as laughter jolted out of her. "You imagine. That's absurd. It's like...Rosemary setting up her horse farm without any experience with the creatures. I can understand if wine is not your favorite drink, but to not have even tasted your vineyard's vintages? No."
Abandoning the inspection of the vines, she marched over to Siorus's side and entwined her arm with his once more. "We are going to sample some vintages, so that you are an experienced salesman. When asked, you will be able to confidently answer what vintage is your favorite, and why. You will be able to state what notes you have tasted in the wine. You will be asked that, you know." She tugged on his arm. "Come. We'll fetch some glasses from Mary, and some cheese, and we'll have ourselves a wine tasting so you'll understand, so you'll know, what it is you're selling."
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Siorus Cadigan
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Lapinou-minou
Bann of Lostwhithiel
Posts: 1,334
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Post by Siorus Cadigan on Dec 31, 2011 14:37:56 GMT -5
Laughter sounded behind him. "You imagine,” Sol said. “That's absurd.” How so? Siorus asked silently, turning about to face her. “It's like...Rosemary setting up her horse farm without any experience with the creatures.” Siorus’ lips twitched in amusement. “I can understand if wine is not your favorite drink, but to not have even tasted your vineyard's vintages? No."
“No?” Siorus answered, one blonde brow quirking upward.
Neglecting the vines, Sol strode toward him in a purposeful manner and looped her arm through his again. While Siorus regarded their linked arms with another raised brow, Sol declared they were going to sample some vintages. Apparently doing so would make him an experienced salesman, a point Siorus had to concede, though he doubted he would find a favourite. He had tasted the brandy... twice. He found it pleasant, though too sweet for regular consumption.
Sol then began to speak a language unfamiliar to him. “You will be able to state what notes you have tasted in the wine. You will be asked that, you know."
Brow furrowed, Siorus murmured, “Notes?”
She tugged on his arm. "Come. We'll fetch some glasses from Mary, and some cheese,” cheese? “and we'll have ourselves a wine tasting so you'll understand, so you'll know, what it is you're selling."
Grumbling, Siorus tugged Sol back toward the vines. “We have not finished inspecting the leaves.” His lips twitched again as he cast a sideways glance in her direction. “What if the vines rot while I am tasting 'notes'?”
Sol’s plan made good sense, perfect sense. He should taste the wine, he should be able to recommend certain vintages. Siorus’ nature dictated he toy with her first, however, play a round of the game they both enjoyed. Moving toward the next vine, he reached for a perfectly green leaf, one free of any shadows or grime. Making an approving sound, he dropped it and reached for the next.
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Post by Renée Cadigan on Dec 31, 2011 14:55:25 GMT -5
Oh, for... "You do not even know what notes are?" She shook her head. "Sacrement, Siorus, how is it that I have more knowledge of wine than you, when I was raised in a mage's tower?" She went on to detail her plan, including glasses and cheese, and tugged on Siorus's arm.
Siorus tugged back. “We have not finished inspecting the leaves.” Her eyes narrowed as his lips twitched. “What if the vines rot while I am tasting 'notes'?”
"I don't think either of us will be conscious if we taste that many notes, mon loup."
He did not find that argument enough to abandon the inspection, however. He moved to the next vine and began examining it for disease, then moved onto the next with an approving sound.
"Franchement." Sol huffed out a breath. Never could it be easy, no. Never could it be that he simply agreed with her. No, no. Always a fight, always a battle...
She would not have it any other way, if she were truthful with herself.
"Fine. I will sample your wine and do that part of your job for you," she declared, tossing her head. "I will likely get drunk and need help getting out of the cellar, but perhaps I can invite Emmaline to enjoy the wine with me, hm? She's a lovely girl. I am sure she would not mind helping."
She started walking away, leaving Siorus to his continued inspection. After a handful of steps, she paused, and turned—and with a whispered word, directed a jolt of lightning at Siorus's ass. Giggling, she tore off back toward the castle, knowing he'd likely catch her before she made it to "safety".
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Siorus Cadigan
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Lapinou-minou
Bann of Lostwhithiel
Posts: 1,334
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Post by Siorus Cadigan on Dec 31, 2011 17:24:10 GMT -5
"Fine. I will sample your wine and do that part of your job for you," Sol stated. In the periphery of his vision, Siorus noted red hair swinging back and forth across her jaw. He smiled at the leaf in his hand. "I will likely get drunk and need help getting out of the cellar,” she continued, “but perhaps I can invite Emmaline to enjoy the wine with me, hm? She's a lovely girl. I am sure she would not mind helping."
Snickering at the leaf in his hand, Siorus decided against confirming Sol’s assessment of Emmaline. The word ‘lovely’ did not exist in his vocabulary, but he thought he could come up with several alternatives that would both suit the comely young guardswoman and fan the flames of Sol’s ire.
Another time.
The sound of Sol’s retreat paused and Siorus let go of the leaf, prepared to give in. They could finish their inspection tomorrow, could they not? Before he could turn, offer a last jibe, a jolt of lightning struck his behind.
Uttering a soft grunt of surprise, Siorus turned and growled in a manner that might have been menacing, but for the grin he could not suppress. Sol’s retreat began anew, accompanied by a giggle, and Siorus pelted after the mage, catching her just before she left the vines. Leaning forward, he grabbed her about the waist, halting her progress, and lifted her high enough her heels left the ground.
“I am not sure Emmaline is up to your games, Sol,” he murmured against her ear before nipping at the lobe. Letting her down, he kept an arm snaked about her waist, enjoying the closeness of her. “And she does not need to know what a note is.” Subtly, he directed their steps back toward the castle. “It is a component of the flavour, yes?” He recalled seeing the word used, but as he did not drink wine, had paid little attention.
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