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Messages - Renodin

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1
Roleplaying / Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« on: January 22, 2021, 02:51:33 PM »
Roleplay from the player of Pandora de Pooh

Bescanon River

The galloping of Nemean’s steed was barely heard amongst the rush of life. As they drew near, Tig nervously puts down his brush and stood up out of respect for Nemean. He turned around and fully bowed. Careful to not break Pandora’s deep concentration, a quiet panic overtakes Tig, whether or not to alert his Lady of Nemean’s presence. Pandora thinks nothing of this, anticipating Tig to bring her a wet brush from the bucket set aside next to the easels piled on top of a old picnic blanket on flat ground.

Tig looks over to her anxiously in a whisper, “Lady Pandora.”

Pandora’s eyebrows lowered expecting criticism of her brush strokes, the pitch of her voice raises in a whine, “I know, it looks strange but it’s one color! Look, maybe if I add something else to it.” She digs her brush into the reddish diluted paint, and a slip of the brush brashly flings the soft color all over her canvas unprecedented.

Tig was mortified, he called out to her again his preadolescent voice cracked, “Lady Pandora.”

Pandora was overjoyed, the color of her cheeks deepened from the inflection of Tig’s voice and the blunder she has made. Looking over to Tig she realized the terrified look on his face, with his entire body facing rigidly at the tall man with cautious emerald eyes.

“Lady Pandora?” A gingerly taken step found his boot upon the lush grass. “For a moment, you had me confuse the oak for an apple tree. You shine with health having such rosy cheeks.”

Turning her ear to a strange and unfamiliar voice, Pandora was curious to meet this person. She stood up in a hurry half-hazardously leaving the palette onto the stool and walks toward him carefully up the hill, as to not trip over the large boulders and pebbles, to get a better view of him. Her eyes widened with a warm greeting despite the lines seen stretching from her chapped lips, “You must be the priest.. Nemean?”

As the colors of the palette start to ooze off the board Tig catches this before it happens.

Being much shorter, Pandora looks up at Nemean in awe, she had not expected a priest to be this gallant. His lengthy dark blonde hair and build made him to look more like a warrior than a priest, one whom no longer a participant in wars. She motions for him to come patiently, “Tig this is my friend Nemean.”

Pandora turns to Nemean with a smile thinking of adjectives to describe her young squire,  “This is Tig, my squire. I asked him to join us today if you don’t mind.”

Tig can be seen in the background struggling to prevent the colors on the palette from getting mixed as he walks uphill. As a young boy he rashly decides to bring her palette to ensure its stability and takes another respectful bow. The two empty canvases on each side of her painting allowed for Nemean to choose which side to sit on.

As Tig waits for his turn to speak, his voice lowers to not upset the noble, “Lady Pandora, I have my hands tied up at the moment please use the extra empty canvas as you wish.”

--

Bescanon River - N2
 
Quote
Being much shorter, Pandora looks up at Nemean in awe, she had not expected a priest to be this gallant. His lengthy dark blonde hair and build made him to look more like a warrior than a priest, one whom no longer a participant in wars. She motions for him to come patiently, “Tig this is my friend Nemean.” Pandora turns to Nemean with a smile thinking of adjectives to describe her young squire,  “This is Tig, my squire. I asked him to join us today if you don’t mind.” ~Pandora de Pooh

A smudge of kind crinkles formed at the corners of his eyes as he smiled at her remarks. Before he could respond however, the boy squire excused himself already. The near comic display of balancing the palette had eroded some of his initial dislike. With a calm gesture of his open, downward turned hand Nemean addressed Tig "You're alright boy..'' He made a display of glancing uphill to where he had left his horse. ''Perhaps you could look after my steed?'' The words were followed with a lingering gaze that only rested on the boy for a moment longer than necessary.

In his mind, thoughts, had already began to form. The squire had provided a welcome guise during which he could sort through them. Ease and grace. Careless almost as she had discarded her activity. His eyes betrayed the subject of his thoughts as they stole a look of Pandora. Dauntless. Her approach. Pretending to turn his attention back to Tig he actually smelled the air with an intake of air. The act unconscious in the doing but welcome nonetheless.  His risen chest perhaps adding reason for the boy to comply. Filled with the scents of the glade but also of her.

Deliberately his eyes moved away from Tig. Crawling slowly like a vine seeking the sun they settled on Pandora. His nose wiggled as a ripple flowed from chin to brows. Seeing them raised. It was as if they were linked with the corners of his mouth as they simultaneously rose as well. "Friend? Already?'' Mock surprise with a light undercurrent of indignation. His head moved imperceptibly to the right for a mere second. "A gift given ever before I have been worthy of it." The smile gave way to a warm expression and he made a half bow.

Indicating the canvasses he continued. ''You always try to fortify with red?'' His brow furrowed as he leaned in for a better look but without actually moving forwards. ''It's a.. '' He glanced at Pandora. "..Background?'' He preemptively smiled. ''What are you going for? Would you show me?''.

2
Roleplaying / Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« on: January 22, 2021, 02:51:03 PM »
Roleplay from the player of Pandora de Pooh

Bescanon River

The galloping of Nemean’s steed was barely heard amongst the rush of life. As they drew near, Tig nervously puts down his brush and stood up out of respect for Nemean. He turned around and fully bowed. Careful to not break Pandora’s deep concentration, a quiet panic overtakes Tig, whether or not to alert his Lady of Nemean’s presence. Pandora thinks nothing of this, anticipating Tig to bring her a wet brush from the bucket set aside next to the easels piled on top of a old picnic blanket on flat ground.

Tig looks over to her anxiously in a whisper, “Lady Pandora.”

Pandora’s eyebrows lowered expecting criticism of her brush strokes, the pitch of her voice raises in a whine, “I know, it looks strange but it’s one color! Look, maybe if I add something else to it.” She digs her brush into the reddish diluted paint, and a slip of the brush brashly flings the soft color all over her canvas unprecedented.

Tig was mortified, he called out to her again his preadolescent voice cracked, “Lady Pandora.”

Pandora was overjoyed, the color of her cheeks deepened from the inflection of Tig’s voice and the blunder she has made. Looking over to Tig she realized the terrified look on his face, with his entire body facing rigidly at the tall man with cautious emerald eyes.

“Lady Pandora?” A gingerly taken step found his boot upon the lush grass. “For a moment, you had me confuse the oak for an apple tree. You shine with health having such rosy cheeks.”

Turning her ear to a strange and unfamiliar voice, Pandora was curious to meet this person. She stood up in a hurry half-hazardously leaving the palette onto the stool and walks toward him carefully up the hill, as to not trip over the large boulders and pebbles, to get a better view of him. Her eyes widened with a warm greeting despite the lines seen stretching from her chapped lips, “You must be the priest.. Nemean?”

As the colors of the palette start to ooze off the board Tig catches this before it happens.

Being much shorter, Pandora looks up at Nemean in awe, she had not expected a priest to be this gallant. His lengthy dark blonde hair and build made him to look more like a warrior than a priest, one whom no longer a participant in wars. She motions for him to come patiently, “Tig this is my friend Nemean.”

Pandora turns to Nemean with a smile thinking of adjectives to describe her young squire,  “This is Tig, my squire. I asked him to join us today if you don’t mind.”

Tig can be seen in the background struggling to prevent the colors on the palette from getting mixed as he walks uphill. As a young boy he rashly decides to bring her palette to ensure its stability and takes another respectful bow. The two empty canvases on each side of her painting allowed for Nemean to choose which side to sit on.

As Tig waits for his turn to speak, his voice lowers to not upset the noble, “Lady Pandora, I have my hands tied up at the moment please use the extra empty canvas as you wish.”

--

Bescanon River - N2
 

Quote
Being much shorter, Pandora looks up at Nemean in awe, she had not expected a priest to be this gallant. His lengthy dark blonde hair and build made him to look more like a warrior than a priest, one whom no longer a participant in wars. She motions for him to come patiently, “Tig this is my friend Nemean.” Pandora turns to Nemean with a smile thinking of adjectives to describe her young squire,  “This is Tig, my squire. I asked him to join us today if you don’t mind.” ~Pandora de Pooh


A smudge of kind crinkles formed at the corners of his eyes as he smiled at her remarks. Before he could respond however, the boy squire excused himself already. The near comic display of balancing the palette had eroded some of his initial dislike. With a calm gesture of his open, downward turned hand Nemean addressed Tig "You're alright boy..'' He made a display of glancing uphill to where he had left his horse. ''Perhaps you could look after my steed?'' The words were followed with a lingering gaze that only rested on the boy for a moment longer than necessary.

In his mind, thoughts, had already began to form. The squire had provided a welcome guise during which he could sort through them. Ease and grace. Careless almost as she had discarded her activity. His eyes betrayed the subject of his thoughts as they stole a look of Pandora. Dauntless. Her approach. Pretending to turn his attention back to Tig he actually smelled the air with an intake of air. The act unconscious in the doing but welcome nonetheless.  His risen chest perhaps adding reason for the boy to comply. Filled with the scents of the glade but also of her.

Deliberately his eyes moved away from Tig. Crawling slowly like a vine seeking the sun they settled on Pandora. His nose wiggled as a ripple flowed from chin to brows. Seeing them raised. It was as if they were linked with the corners of his mouth as they simultaneously rose as well. "Friend? Already?'' Mock surprise with a light undercurrent of indignation. His head moved imperceptibly to the right for a mere second. "A gift given ever before I have been worthy of it." The smile gave way to a warm expression and he made a half bow.

Indicating the canvasses he continued. ''You always try to fortify with red?'' His brow furrowed as he leaned in for a better look but without actually moving forwards. ''It's a.. '' He glanced at Pandora. "..Background?'' He preemptively smiled. ''What are you going for? Would you show me?''.


3
Roleplaying / Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« on: January 22, 2021, 02:49:27 PM »

Welcome back, or happy continuation of reading. Either way here's another rp chain albeit a much smaller one for the moment. Its a scene were Nemean and Pandora, a young noble lady from Perdan agreed to meet up to enjoy a simple joy, painting.

Roleplay from the player of Pandora de Pooh

Bescanon River

Pandora sat down with the empty canvas in front of her. From the stool next to her, her squire Tig had brought buckets of clean and murky water along with several thick brushes at her disposal. Unsure of what colors she wanted to use, she had squeezed out a teardrop of each tube and their color onto a used clean plate. The intensity of the colors worried Pandora and she attempts to spread out the knot of color on one side. Slowly, the coldness of the area and slight breeze were drying up the knots. They had set up two extra canvases underneath an incredibly old tree that brought shade on the largest hill, like a sentient overlooking the river’s longevity.

It was a sunny and rather warm winter’s day and she had on her oversized-cherry scarf. Perdan was at war figuratively and literally, but Pandora was at home. The stream pools water into a lake with the humming of gentle flaps of insects and their wings near the bank-side. Birds were heard calling out to each other loudly, almost longingly. Pandora sat with Tig in silence for a few moments before she made him pick up a brush himself.

Tig asked, “Lady Pandora, why are we out here in the cold anyway?”

Pandora smiles gently, “I am waiting for a friend.. he is a priest. Could you paint with me too?”

She dips her thin brush into the clear water and picks up the darkest blue and smudges it around the plate. A bruised purple starts to drip down across quickly before one of her strokes pauses its run, spreading the color back. A fond memory came to her as she fumbled with the idea of getting started. The words of the letter sent to Pandora were, “I urge you attend, and think not what you should paint, but how.”

The larger brush was picked up by Pandora and firmly pressed onto the bruised blue-purple color. Pandora gets closer to the canvas, becoming more familiar with its empty screen and the white shadow of the lines that bind together in itself. In a dabbing motion, she gently pokes around the right section of the canvas, unsure of what her creation will turn out to become.

--

Bescanon River - N1

The cobble was relentless. His steed was oblivious to the noise but Nemean was distinctly aware of the loud entrance he surely must cause by simple merit of riding his horse. The clatter heralded his arrival and yet, he couldn't quite decide which of these great trees was his destination. Seated up high he looked at each of the majestic oaks unable to come to any form of resolution. A frown marred his features. A tug on the reins informed the creature between his legs to move. Step by step it did so. Moving steadily from one great tree to the next. None of which proved to be the rendezvous he was looking for.

It was the horse that noticed it first.Its pointy ears pricked up and turned ahead, in the direction of a colossal tree that hung over the river's edge. Noticing that his steed had sensed something way before he had, Nemean wasn't too proud to admit that the old horseman's wisdom's still held true. Trust your mount. As they approached he could see barely a thing. Surely the horse wasn't playing tricks on him. Did it perhaps hear a squirrel? Unable to resist the urge he stood up in the saddle. Trying his best to gain more vantage, to no avail. The leafs that inhabited the massive limbs of the oak proved a jealous legion of guardians. They completely covered any would be meeting place. Except for, that rather inconspicuous pathway leading down. He couldn't help himself grin as he spotted the route down towards the river's edge.

Dismounting fluently he wasted little time tying the reins to one of the many arms, at least one of its legions would serve him. Wisely he kept the comment to himself though as he looked up at the impressive tree. Around its trunk and leading down from the cobble roadside the path led. Nemean carefully navigated its steps. Not wanting to slip on the invading moss that was steadily conquering ground. Before his very eyes a tiny but lush glade opened up before him. Overgrown rocks braved the water's edge. Before them again there stood a veritable screen of ardently growing reeds and lilies. Their feet wet and their crowns basking in the light given by the spring time sun. He thought he saw a dragonfly or two whiz through the reeds but he wasn't sure.

Before he could take in the rest of the seclusive location his eyes were drawn back to the broad trunk of the oak. Fairy beds lined its girth. That was the last of nature that he could take in before his attention was entirely and almost suddenly commanded by the presence of not one, but two people.  As he turned to face the presence his dark blond hair teased his sight as it fell before his eyes. Forcing him to rake it aside with his hand. Steadying his footing as he descended the final step Nemean rested his other hand on the pommel of his sword. Slung from his belt and perhaps entirely unnecessary but old habits died hard.

Before him stood a young woman. She as him, was not unarmed, for in her delicate hand she wielded color. Atop a brush. He held his breath a moment as if that would buy him a moment more before the spell would be broken. Three canvases had been arrayed, one next to the other. A man servant occupied space. His presence almost annoyed Nemean as rapidly as he acknowledged the man's existence in the most fleeting of glances. The river didn't care though. It bubble and swirled along as it worked tirelessly on smoothing out every boulder on its bed.

''Lady Pandora?'' A gingerly taken step found his boot upon the lush grass. ''For a moment, you had me confuse the oak for an apple tree. You shine with health having such rosy cheeks.'' The smile he gave was broad but could never rival the mighty oak itself. The place had made him feel at ease and perhaps his opening remark was likewise, too familiar. With the first words spoken, Nemean approached Pandora, wondering how much of a fool he'd make of himself today as he warily acknowledged the fact that there were indeed, three canvases. 

4
Roleplaying / Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« on: January 22, 2021, 02:47:29 PM »

The Ducal Palace in Perdan City 5
 

Quote
Aila makes no attempt to struggle free, knowing there is no use “Sir Nemean” She is used to speaking over crowds, filling the room with the sound of his own name is no challenge for her. “I addressed you as a prince out of respect for what once was. With your actions and your words here you disrespect the stations we both hold; I am the Duchess of Perdan and your better, you will address me as such and you will remove yourself from my person at once. . . or be removed.” ~Aila Storme


The booming voice burst from the petite woman like a sudden thunderclap on a clear, spring day. The tension he had allowed his hand to exert to keep the papers upon the desk released. The buffeting words hardened his face like a sailor, braving the ocean's spray. The expressions giving life to his lips died. A line remained. He stepped away. In the doing, a small space formed between them.

''My actions and words.'' Softly but with an edge. A breath was taken but not fully released. Making taut the fabric of his jacket. ''You.'' Disdain. ''Frivolous and hopeful with your teary eyes. What decorum did you even attempt in this meeting? Liquor?'' The last word all but spat. His head started to turn to the side but he didn't permit himself to look away yet, much as he desired to. Instead he raised his chin. ''Apparently that is all you managed to grasp of Smiddich's wisdom. And you dare invoke her name.'' A hand gave rise to a fist. Silent as it hung at his side. ''You reek of desperation. Invoke your title all your want but it was given. You were born to nothing.'' He took a breath, stimming harsher words. ''You do exactly as I expected. You lack the comprehension of those born to the station you fumble at, Duchess.''

The room felt small. It stank of inadequacy. He gave it a harsh look over. ''Continue to wallow Aila, maybe that is why he took to ship.'' With that Nemean left the room. His brisk pace fueled by anger and in no small part its companion, frustration.

--

Roleplay from the player of Aila Storme

The Ducal Palace in Perdan City

A mischievous and supercilious smile emerged from the Duchess’ lips the moment he let her free, and she turned to face him with it painted on proudly as he berated her.  He calls her names, demands decorum, how dare she, desperate, born to nothing- the way he lashes out is as impressive as it is entertaining. Is this what men born to something behave like? She wondered idly while Nemean did his blustering and posturing, filling the room with his presence to attempt at making her feel small before he tried his best at piercing her breast with his words.
 
What he couldn’t know is that she always felt small, and was quite comfortable in the sliver of air his ego left her to breathe in. He knew nothing about what he spoke of, the things that had gone on in that room in his absence, the list of assumptions he had thrown at her, all incorrect, the love that she had known. How could a man who did not know the first thing about her hurt her?
 
She lets him leave without rebuke, the moment he is out of sight her smug look fades and Aila is left standing at her desk, fanning herself with the papers in her hand. A short moment later her retainer Gideon enters the room cautiously asking “Your Grace?”
 
“I am alright, if that is what you came for”
 
“Yes...That man seemed- Upset.” He posits carefully. “Did he threaten you?”
 
Aila shakes her head, approaching the man dressed in Storme colours with the papers “No, no. Just a hard time adjusting to change…” She walks right past him to the raging fire in the hearth and looks between the pages, and the fire. “I’m going to destroy them”
 
Gideon peers over her shoulder, it is a collection of papers he has seen her working with many times “You’ve been building that case for months your Grace, why?”
 
The Duchess does not move, she simply stares down at the pages of letters saved over the months, waiting for the right person to show them to.  Eventually the silence stretches so long Gideon is about to turn and leave her be at just the moment Aila flicks her wrist to throw the bulk of the documents into the fire “I cannot do it by myself and I cannot trust anyone with them either.”
 
Together they watch the small stack of documents burn bright and crumble to ash in seconds, her retainer does not agree with throwing away so much work, but it is too late now. “You meant to give them to that man? Who is he?”
 
Gideons words ring in her ears, she would not make the same mistake as the blustery Sir Nemean “A Prince I do not know.”
 
“Well I’m bloody glad you kept them then. Shall I walk you to your chamber?”
 
“No. I will do some stitching. I am hoping to meet another Prince here later.”
 
Cautiously the man asks her “Do you know this one?”
 
“No, actually.”

Gideon looks uncomfortable with that answer, knowing she was not kidding "Try not to upset that one too."


5
Roleplaying / Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« on: January 22, 2021, 02:46:06 PM »

The Ducal Palace in Perdan City 4
 

Quote
She scoffs, her eyes are back on him, though with their fury there are tears threatening to appear in her eyes- stubbornly held back by a strong will “I do not really care what you think of me, or my many shoes, I am just glad you are here to be the balance to Alyssa again.”

Behind her arm crossed, stubborn, stern stance there is more to tell him, but her trust is shaken and she cannot will it out.  The young Duchess gives up the standoff and turns her back on him to approach the desk, and gathers a few papers in her hands as she informs him “I’ve said all I can say to you. You may go whenever you like.” ~Aila Storme



That had been her finish, but it wasn't what he felt first. If fire had leaned to leap in all the eons it had been around. It would've set him ablaze. The look she gave him. A hard swallow the least of his reactions. A tiny, mischievous voice in his head whispering that there'll soon be more marks of on that mantle piece. Unbidden he glanced at it. Aila's words lurched his attention back. His eyes widened to expose the green of his irises fully. She had used her name. His lips moved, almost parted. But the words that followed her own had sewn them shut again. "She thinks I am the only one who can understand what she hides from everyone else..'' Lanced, and almost unhorsed. He lowered his head to regard the floor. "..and that I share the same feelings. ” A breath came and was held. His head raised once more. A marred line of indecision snaking across his face.

Like autumnal winds, she turned away from him. Torn like beautiful leafs from a gentle tree. He hadn't the time to consider their beauty fully and now, he couldn't anymore. His hand opened and a finger or two extended towards her, the arm never having risen an inch. Her breath broken. Like the wracking of that season. He took a breath of his own and then another one. Brandy wasn't the only scent that lingered in the room.

She had spoken before she turned but it hardly registered. That was a lie. Her kindness he didn't want to accept, so he tried to ignore it. But now she gave him leave to depart. Now, when he didn't want to anymore. ''Can say?'' His tone strangely level. Tinged with the faintest hint of curiosity. Like that last of green that lingers, and refuses to give in to fall.

Not waiting for a response his eyes had informed him of her pretense business. The pale back of her hand shown as it grasped a number of papers. In but two audacious strides he all but flanked her entirely, letting his chest touch her shoulder as he reached down. The papers pinned together, with her hand under his, firmly on the desk. The sound was warm, like a hearth. Kindly lit to banish all of the cold. ''What else..?''

--

Roleplay from the player of Aila Storme

The Ducal Palace in Perdan City

The words she had granted him earlier were dismissed, Perdan still lives, Aila he had said omitting her title, already she had come to regret letting that pass between them without a rebuke. As she gathers missives laden with worries he has proven she cannot share with him his daring finds a further bound to cross.

There was a time in their past together that she had admired the ease with which he reached out to people, had thought of it as brave to reach out to her even as a knight, and wondered what else a man of such nerve could do. His touch now is a painful reminder of just how much time had passed since those days, and his earlier dismissal is no longer forgivable. The firm grip on her slender wrist does not feel gentle, the idea of a man of Perdan never harming her was long gone before he ever arrived that day.

Aila makes no attempt to struggle free, knowing there is no use “Sir Nemean” She is used to speaking over crowds, filling the room with the sound of his own name is no challenge for her. “I addressed you as a prince out of respect for what once was. With your actions and your words here you disrespect the stations we both hold; I am the Duchess of Perdan and your better, you will address me as such and you will remove yourself from my person at once. . . or be removed.”

6
Roleplaying / Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« on: January 22, 2021, 02:44:27 PM »

The Ducal Palace in Perdan City 3
 

Quote
“Things like where you have been, things like; That I am glad you are back...and why.” The crystal rings against the stone top of an ornate table beside them as Aila sets it down empty. “Things like; That I wanted to see you in the flesh, that I couldn’t believe that you came back, and that I hope you are staying a very long time." She continues on with a spark of that fury that always seemed buried somewhere inside her ready to ignite "That I am jealous, and that I am angry on behalf of the ones you left behind.”
 
One by one she lays things out for him, trying step by step to prove that she was not trying to ensnare him in any game. “and that the Perdan you left...Died with Smiddich.” ~Aila Storme



The fragile laugh that preceded her words left him cold. The bravado of gulping down the brandy, jaded as a gesture could be, likewise left him unmoved. Her words streamed from her. No longer hindered by blushing cheeks or stammering voice. He cocked his head as he realized she was facing him squarely. This had taken him a little by surprise. His brow furrowed in defense. She wants to see me? His fingers gripped the last remaining vestige of the armchair before it too was left behind. The hand went to accompany the other as they joined together in laced fingers and rested on his lower stomach.

The blow she delivered with her confidence was keenly felt. He could no longer regard her the young girl she was before, as she had been in his mind till this very moment. ''I hope you are staying a very long time.'' Her words. This he could find no defense for. A true crease marked his forehead as he all but imperceptibly squinted with his eyes. Unable to escape it and being forced to feel that singular string being pulled. It felt good. Warm and comfortable. Reassuring. But she wasn't done. Her next utterance filled a field with caltrops made of words.

Inhaling slowly, Nemean permitted himself a moment to drink in her meaning. If truly there was but one, hiding between her sentences. He doubted it. "Perdan yet lives Aila." He swallowed, wishing he had said the words more forcefully. ".. and you stand in his very study. Pouring his drink." His hands released one another as one was bidden to extend a casual finger towards the oaken desk. "Even the symbolism isn't lost on me. He and I fought and dashed over such with blades drawn. Or had you forgotten?'' His chin heralded the tilting of his face as he regarded her in her splendor that was her dress.

"Would you truly have me believe you feel sparks of jealousy over me?'' He couldn't resist the smirk that mockingly formed upon his lips. Nor did he want to. "This dance you've rehearsed clearly won't do. What do you know of those I left behind? How they feel and what has been said and transpired since I've returned?'' His weight shifted to his backleg, he was staring down at her. "You wrote yourself that you could barely contain yourself in not writing to me first. Yet you also failed to write others I glean from that.'' He shook his head from left to right and back again.

"You are still alone, I can see your hand.'' Nemean inclined his head forwards, making ripples in his forehead. "You might've learned from Smiddich by now. But it seems you haven't.'' He looked around the room as the words continued to flow. ''And neither will I be a convenient replacement. You are still as you were before. Lost on the road, getting your pretty shoes dirty.'' He exhaled long and hard. Sadness made a brief appearance as he looked at her. ''You just have more shoes now than you had then.'' He made a noise with his mouth. ''If that was all you wanted to see me for, I'll take my leave again.'' Almost as an afterthought he added. ''..in future, don't worry about committing the like to parchment.''

So he awaited her response. His eyes somewhat slanted in obvious disinterest, bordering on weariness.

--

Roleplay from the player of Aila Storme

The Ducal Palace in Perdan City

Obstinate as always her gut roared at her to let the arrogant man go on his way and wait again for him to write to her, ignoring him till then. He was dismissing her and she hated that, and it burned in her eyes as she continued to glare up at him with the furious look that overtakes her whether she likes it or not. “Delphine. Wrote. Me.”

Now she even hears how agitated she is and finally flinched under his heavy gaze, glancing away to the sideboard where the brandy bottle stood staring her down.  "She thinks I am the only one who can understand what she hides from everyone else, and that I share the same feelings. ”

Her eyes dart to the deeply scarred mantle, she remembers sharps of glass raining down over the room “I am not jealous -of you- I’m jealous of her. I would give anything to have that man back here. So I could ask him for a story too, and then beat the absolute living tar out of him for leaving me here alone.”

She scoffs, her eyes are back on him, though with their fury there are tears threatening to appear in her eyes- stubbornly held back by a strong will “I do not really care what you think of me, or my many shoes, I am just glad you are here to be the balance to Alyssa again.”

Behind her arm crossed, stubborn, stern stance there is more to tell him, but her trust is shaken and she cannot will it out.  The young Duchess gives up the standoff and turns her back on him to approach the desk, and gathers a few papers in her hands as she informs him “I’ve said all I can say to you. You may go whenever you like.”

7
Roleplaying / Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« on: January 22, 2021, 02:42:46 PM »

The Ducal Palace in Perdan City 2
 

Quote
A moment of hesitation takes the younger girl, as if she cannot decide whether to greet him or yell at him. Aila stands slowly from her massive seat and looks at Prince Nemean up and down, as if deciding if he were real or not. It becomes obvious what she has learned about nobility over the years and from who, as she rounds her desk and begins pouring two petite crystal cups with distinctly coloured plum brandy.

Finally she says something to him, with the tiny drink held out for him to take “It is what he would have offered you. Welcome home.” She still speaks in a perfectly Perdanese accent, nothing there has changed “Where have you been? If you have brought me a good story I can give you ten in exchange. Sit with me. ” ~Aila Storme


His spine obeyed only a single master. The regal teachings from home. And with that raised chin he looked through mildly slanted eyes before allowing his head to descend with a nod. His hand accepting the crystal cup while his verdant eyes never left those of her, for as long as she offered a bridge for them to cross. The crystal drink cradled like a treasured gem, studded in the pommel of a sword of war. Her words sang from her lips. The first sting she would deliver in their exchange struck. In defense Nemean lowered his head to the raised crystal of his glass and smelled its content. Filling his lungs with that very brandy which Smiddich loved. The memories it stirred not allowed purchase, for the moment.

The neutral tone she employed as flawless as the first time she broke words with him during the lists. He doubted she still thought much of jousting. As he glanced back at her, he was sure she didn't. The hearth attest as much. She preferred the thick of melee. Little time was spared however to either take a sip or to prepare a fresh defense. Her second blow had already been stuck. It sang through the air between them. ''Where have you been?'' As neutral as a rock falling from a cliff. It still crushed. She softened the apparent boulder though, asking for niceties. It conjured a rueful smile upon his lips.

''I have brought you no stories Aila.'' The smell of the brandy was enough for him. He placed glass on the mighty oaken desk and left it there. ''Why have you asked me to visit you here?'' With a thumb and leaning palm he gestured about the private study. ''Surely you could've met me in the audience hall. But you didn't.'' The accusation was accompanied with a deft step into the petite woman's direction. ''You care not for my stories. They are immaterial.'' he adjusted his gaze. Eyes fixed on the Duchess. Emeraldine and hard. A hand of his slid across the top of one of the armchairs. ''What was not for parchment to know that you would have  me attend to you in person?'' His brief march came to an abrupt end as did his words. Far enough still for her to maneuver but his charge was clear. If only his boots had been shot with ferrum then the floor would've rang with iron.

--

Roleplay from the player of Aila Storme

The Ducal Palace in Perdan City

One by one each of her masterful offers are rejected and they continue standing, looking at each other as the Prince did his posturing and questioning. Unlike him, she was not in the mood to uphold airs of mystery and secrets from years he had been absent. He knew nothing of her now, and nothing of him, yet the words still sound sincere from her lips as she looked upon the golden Prince of Perdan “ He wouldn’t like to know I sent you to some - stuffy audience room”.
 
Her tone brightens with a strained laugh at her own mention of the previous king and her eyes are gauging him for a response, but she continues on “ There are things that we can only discuss in person, things neither of us can afford to go elsewhere”  his drink is set aside, hers is gone in one swallow. Long gone was the girl who winced and shook her head at hard liquor, it may as well have been water now.
 
“Things like where you have been, things like; That I am glad you are back...and why.” The crystal rings against the stone top of an ornate table beside them as Aila sets it down empty. “Things like; That I wanted to see you in the flesh, that I couldn’t believe that you came back, and that I hope you are staying a very long time." She continues on with a spark of that fury that always seemed buried somewhere inside her ready to ignite "That I am jealous, and that I am angry on behalf of the ones you left behind.”
 
One by one she lays things out for him, trying step by step to prove that she was not trying to ensnare him in any game. “and that the Perdan you left...Died with Smiddich.”

8
Roleplaying / Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« on: January 22, 2021, 02:35:59 PM »

Here's an interesting one. Its part of a chain that I'll try to post in the correct order for your reading pleasure. Hang in there with me though, this means I'll have to do some juggling on my side. Its about Nemean meeting the young Duchess of Perdan city.


The Ducal Palace in Perdan City

Walking on the familiar boulevard that lay beyond the main entrance to the Ducal palace of his old friend and in many way, so much more, was strange. Looking around him he could see the small changes that had been made. Small, like different seasonal flowers that had been planted. Or how the attire of servants had been altered. Away from the familiar and into this new strangeness into which he was wading. Wading. An apt description he thought to himself as he reached the end of the path and arrived at the entrance of the building itself. He wouldn't be finding Smiddish here anymore. No, he was now going to find a young woman that had invited him. The new Duchess of Perdan.

The bowed heads of servants he hardly noticed. They had not forgotten who he had been. Though he was older now. Calmer as well he liked to think. Nemean's eyes slowly walked along with him on feet that trampled each and every one of the tapestries that hung on the walls as he approached her audience hall. He hadn't required directions from a steward or official or butler. They had all tried but his silent refusal had stumped them all. This palace wasn't new to him.

As he approached that final room though, he wondered what he was going to see. Why did she want to speak to him. His eyes spied ahead of the space he was about to plant his feet into. Magnificent. Bringing back memories of a former life. So Nemean strode into the Audiance Hall of the Duchess Storme. The letter had found him early, almost as if she had been watching him from before.

--

Roleplay from the player of Aila Storme

The Ducal Palace in Perdan City

In the outermost holdfast of the Palace was a room build to face the West in order to catch the last bit of light any day had to offer. Prince Nemean would remember the huge window at the back of the room that had been sprayed with sea water and over decades had become clouded with salt. Since the changing of the land, the rains had washed it clean. It was now crystal clear and looked over the realm of Alexandria glowing pink and orange in the evening.

When guided into the study by a familiar attendant, the Prince will see the Duchess sitting at a desk far too large for her, in a seat that similarly dwarfed him. Heavy oak shelves lined the walls and were gleamingly polished but nearly bare, with a small collection forming here and there mainly made up of flower vases stuffed with suspiciously fresh autumn flowers despite the late time in the season. What decor was left was nautical, things that had been there all along. The prominent mantle above the hearth is scared and deeply scratched as if it had been attacked by something ferocious; a reminder of one of her most famous tantrums. The same arm chairs waited there for more long talks to be had.

Aila herself has changed since the days before he had left, no longer the demanding blonde knight wearing Perdan colors the only thing on her that remained from those days is the silver falcon chained at her throat; An azure dress accented in black represent house Storme instead today, deceivingly simply and outrageous in it’s opulence only to the right eye. As always her hair is the only gold she wears on display, twisted into a neat braid it hangs down her back secured by a satin ribbon.

A moment of hesitation takes the younger girl, as if she cannot decide whether to greet him or yell at him. Aila stands slowly from her massive seat and looks at Prince Nemean up and down, as if deciding if he were real or not. It becomes obvious what she has learned about nobility over the years and from who, as she rounds her desk and begins pouring two petite crystal cups with distinctly coloured plum brandy.

Finally she says something to him, with the tiny drink held out for him to take “It is what he would have offered you. Welcome home.” She still speaks in a perfectly Perdanese accent, nothing there has changed “Where have you been? If you have brought me a good story I can give you ten in exchange. Sit with me.

9
Roleplaying / Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« on: January 22, 2021, 02:32:56 PM »

The following is me writing a little rp just to let the rest of the Realm know that I've seen and possibly read the flurry of letters that were send about a certain topic. Also a kind of a signal that they shouldn't expect Nemean to mingle into it either.

Tea and Letters

Seated at a fine table overlooking the gardens of the Citadel in Perdan city,  Nemean carefully sips from a warm cup of herbal tea. Spiced and laced with a dollop of rich honey. Before him on the table, a slew of parchments. Many of which quite recent and all of them adorned with Noble seals. A curious little smile plays on his lips as he considers their contents. A duel, a fight, a beleaguered judge and fierce loyalties on naked display.

Using a hand he pushed them all aside. Preferring to gaze lazily out over the gardens. A twirl of steam navigates the angles of his face as he sips again. The noise of a contented voice rumbles through his nostrils as the drink finds its way down his throat.

10
Roleplaying / Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« on: January 22, 2021, 02:30:47 PM »

Here's a piece that I wrote to instigate a potential reunion between Nemean and Delphine. The two were a couple before I paused him. We'll still have to see if this arch will have a future or not. You enjoy this one anyway though!

Distant but Home

The horse had carried him from Perdan city. Towards the mountains, he had repeated in his head over and over again. Castle Ubent could never be seen but he knew it lay just beyond the peaks. Rows of jagged rock that defied the very clouds themselves as they made their own bid for the heavens above. It frightened him. He knew why he wanted to go to Mulhouse. Yet, every opportunity that had presented itself for him to delay or dally he had taken. He readjusted the shroud of Leandra that he had picked up at the splendid temple of the Silver Lady in Perdan city. Wearing it he felt like some misplaced ancient hero wearing a toga. He snorted at the thought. He was no hero nor did he posses any of their gravitas.

It had provided him with ample excuses to make stops along the way though. Offering kind words to those in need. Providing alms. Inspecting shrines and making a handful of blessings as he had passed by the Temple in Brive. Him, blessing people. He snorted again after which he shook his head.

There wasn't much further to go now though. The mountains had risen before him. At their feet the seemingly endless forests of Mulhouse blanketed the land. Like a great fussy collar on a shirt, in green. He imagined the mountains belonging to a giant's face that looked up. The spell didn't last as he saw the landscape. The tiny waterfalls that surged in autumn. The flocks of birds and the animals. He even spotted a herd of deer. He knew a moment of concern. His destination had been a vineyard. Deer could wreak havoc upon a vineyard. The sensation passed swiftly though. Surely she would've had measures in place to ward against these creatures. He nudged his horse to continue on their way.

A low rise emerged above the canopy. A foothill more prominent than the surrounding ones. On one side he saw how a mountain brook joined its sisters,  together they formed a perennial stream that flowed past the base of the hill. Riding  under the oaks he felt protected from vision even if he wasn't. Birds chirped quietly while squirrels labored enormously to store seeds and nuts. One of them interrupted its works to gaze down on the passing rider, before it skipped away.

Rows of carefully maintained vines came into view. A low stone wall made of field stone lined either side of the main path. A truly ancient oak stood sentinel somewhere halfway up the path. A fat red squirrel lounged on one of its upper limbs. The tree more than providing for its well-being. Looking up Nemean smiled. His eyes looked around the vineyard. ''Hope you're taking as good care of her as you are of Mr Squirrel there.'' The sabel horse snorted a response. He couldn't tell if it was derision or assent.

Moments later he arrived at the vineyard complex itself. buildings arranged practically yet with such grace. It seemed as if it had always been there. Part of the landscape, part of the hill. A young man came out of one of the barns. Slightly surprised but deft enough to approach the newcomer. Nemean dismounted fluently. Taking the reins in hand before offering them to the young man. ''Is the Mistress home? I am Nemean.'' Announcing himself made him a tad self aware. ''She, probably isn't expecting me.'' He left it at that while he removed his hazel brown leather gloves and tucked them into his belt.

11
Roleplaying / Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« on: January 22, 2021, 02:28:53 PM »

This is me further trying to reach out to people whom just happened to be in the same region. This was an RP send a single person whom I had not spoken to before nor communicated before hand with either.

A Foreigner passes by

Passing through the bountiful heartlands of Perdan a man with dark golden hair is seen riding upon a great black horse. Clearly not a commoner and certainly not a member of the local nobility. This man rides with purpose. His poise transfers onto the onlooker a certainty of ease in the saddle that this man must've acquired over years of practice if not from birth. Yet, he wears a shroud of Leandra that entirely fails to cover his martial attire that clads his body just underneath.

Some whisper that he must be a foreigner, see how his skin is caressed by the sun? We ain't got no sun like that here in Perdan. Nemean paused as he reached the small temple of Leandra. There he dismounted and blessed several of the locals as they made offerings. The words to big for the gestures he made. Simple laying on of hands and offering kind words before mounting up again. His journey clearly not fulfilled and Brive but a resting place for a further goal yet unreached.

12
Roleplaying / Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« on: January 22, 2021, 02:27:42 PM »

And if that wasn't enough I wrote a small bit just to see if I could pique someone's interest if they would be about in the city.

A Busy Bee

The black and gold that mix as creature and landscape are seen moving through the great city of Perdan. Entering Guild halls while at most times also returning to the splendor that is the magnificent temple of Leandra. A red cheeked messenger attempts to take breaks as a stream of missives are demanded to be delivered virtually instantaneously. A task that is impossible even to such a seasoned runner such as himself.

One of the more curious parcels he has to deliver is a package tightly bound that smells of spices. The gold crowned man that send it, his skin kissed by the sun of another shore, frequent on the streets as his eyes guide him in a once familiar place.

13
Roleplaying / Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« on: January 22, 2021, 02:26:47 PM »
This was the letter to the Realm I send to announce Nemean's return. Added a little flair, I like it that way.


A Simple Note

Folded thrice and thrice again. The ends tucked into the openings on the other side and perfectly fitting together. As to allow pressure of the hands to round the piece of writing without showing on either the inside or the outside what letters the parchment might contain. Where the first fold must be pulled to unravel the skillfully arranged piece a fat glob of red wax is stamped with the signet of House Renodin.

Quote
-------------------------------------

Fellow Nobles of the Realm,

A humble servant returns.

While years may have past, rest assured that the memory is gilded if not solid, in the fortune of gold. The name of your servant is Nemean. He yet knows little of the present times. Give him time. As time was once given onto Perdan. Should the name not bear familiarity, pleased to meet you. Perhaps one day, not too far removed from the day of this reading, we may do more than exchange ink upon a parchment such as this.

Wings unfurled,

Nemean Jevondair Renodin

-------------------------------------

Below the words there is a large letter N written with much flair.

14
Roleplaying / Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« on: January 22, 2021, 02:25:31 PM »
I had Nemean paused for a while and this was the Rp I wrote upon his return. Hope you enjoy it.

The Ship so Often left Behind

When last he walked these lands, his feet could not have touched the soil. Looking out over the vast expanse of land north of where he stood, he laughed out a puff of air. Only a trailing river remained of the great ocean his mind's eye told him had existed there before. The great city of Perdan was noisy. Even at day's end it didn't quiet. Did it have to intrude on his thoughts though? He eyed the great walls that stood a ways away to his left. ''Even with such high walls you can't keep the ruckus to yourself eh?'' The city walls did not reply.

What had happened he wondered. How could ocean give way to land? It had been years since he had left but mountains don't crumble in years, they take eons. The tales of old recall their peaks and we can yet see them today. A frown found its way onto his face and wrangled his brows into a curve. Maybe he had been gone a long time. The glimmer of the fading sun made pure gold of the winding river. ''You grew Bescanon River. And here I am thinking I was the one that had grown.'' A hand found its way to the crown of his head and ran fingers through the dark golden strands. The comparison made him smile. Something to strive for. To grow as much as the river had. And apparently it had already given life. A whole new town had sprung up. They had sailed past it on the way to Perdan. Hetland, if he recalled the first mate's comments well enough. A strange name but then again, apparently these were strange times.

The old tree that had given him shelter groaned. An old pine with strong limbs. But it knew when to bend with the wind and had informed Nemean that he would be wise to do the same. He glanced up at the swaying branches. ''I'll keep that in mind wise one.'' The smirk could not be suppressed. Time and travel had yet to wear down that particular youthful aspect of him. A bold confidence had found a companion though and was now accompanied with a calm reassurance as he turned deftly and strode towards the great city. His attire had remained martial. Travel leathers matched with select pieces of armor. His hair was longer now as well. It flowed over his shoulders and shimmered the color of rich men's coins in the fading light.

His mind was set. The task at hand clear by the findings of his family. As if by chance he noticed a shrine of the Silver Lady as he passed through the city gates. Leandra. He inclined his head as he passed by, while placing a hand over his heart.  The city felt distant. His emerald eyes saw it all before but it had changed. The banner that hung from the gatehouse was not the one he had expected. The Royal banner that so fiercely showed a winged hind in raven black. There was no verdant split in three quarters to border a fourth white one on the top. His eyes beheld a stark bird of prey. Regal in its poise but with wings firmly against its body. The Alabaster Aquila perched on a field of black and ocean blue. He knew that bird. It once loved the Winged hind. Nemean resolved not to speak or comment on it. More had changed than the land it seemed.

Tugging his cape closer over his form he pressed on. It may not have been a campaign but he felt a need to reach his goal. Thinking on love made flutter a tiny bird that had nestled a very long time ago. Deep within his chest. Or would that raven have flown as well? Like a bursting spring did the feelings spread throughout of him. Catching him by surprise but not unawares. It was a thing that time had never managed to erode. Maybe she was still alive. A very real question that hearkens back to another war.

Traversing the city awakened a slew of memories. The sight of the Palace, while in the distance, conjured faces to his mind's eye. He could not but smile and miss them. Soon he promised himself. He nearly bumped into an old lady carrying a bundle of sticks as he turned a corner. Catching her shoulders he prevented her from falling backwards as she abruptly halted. The sticks wanting to make her topple backwards but were foiled. The youth of before had made ample room for the man he was now. Her weight was nothing to his arms and his hands had enough finesse to be truly gentle. He felt the bone that hid under her tattered clothing. Poverty. While his clothing alone would've marked him wealthy and a Noble, that didn't matter now. He helped her balance the bundle of firewood and offered her smiles and measured words. Calming, making sure she didn't worry about the encounter. Then a thought came to mind. The sticks looked heavy.

"Take this, I'll buy the bundle.'' From his pouch he produced a solid gold coin. The woman gasped, taken aback. Thinking treachery at first but Nemean simply waited before he spoke again. ''I am in dire need to have the hearth's restocked at the temple.'' He gestured just down the street towards the temple of Leandra. ''You'd do the Silver Lady a great service. And me.'' The woman wasn't convinced, something in his green eyes. Perhaps she had been betrayed in her past he wondered. Reaching out he took her hand and placed the golden coin in it. ''It is yours, I realize the price isn't equal to the produce. That is fine though, you are in need and I am not. Though I could really use the sticks.'' Slowly he allowed a smile to grace his lips as he bend down to pick up the bundle of sticks. ''May she watch over you.'' The parting words accompanied by a light touch on the woman's shoulder as he passed her by.

So Nemean arrived at the temple of Leandra in Perdan City. Years had past but some things hadn't changed.

15
Roleplaying / Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« on: December 30, 2019, 11:28:36 AM »

Roleplay from Kenneth MacArbin


Dockside Drinks

Kenneth grinned and took another drink.

"Aye, this war has gone on long enough, I am sure there will be plenty for me.  Now!  I do have one bone to pick with the good Marshal here related to this evening."

He mock-glared at Nemean.

"Why, in the name of all that is holy, did you make tonight a boy's club?  An inexcusable failing, I must say."


-=-=-=-


Dockside Drinks N4
 

Quote
He mock-glared at Nemean."Why, in the name of all that is holy, did you make tonight a boy's club?  An inexcusable failing, I must say." ~Kenneth MacArbin

Looking over the rim of his goblet Nemean beheld Kenneth. It didn't last very long as he had upend the thing to drain it of its last bit of contents. Still holding the silver thing he rubbed his lips with the back of his hand. ''Women make everything more complicated. Besides, plenty of women here.'' He grabbed the carafe and poured himself another glassful. ''Or do you only go for easy prey, that's presented to you?'' Taking his own and Kenneth's goblet he offered it to the man. A jeweled finger glittering in the torchlight.

The smile he wore was inviting and mischievous. ''Come now, I value you more and this way we can drop our guards. Feel free to prowl however.'' He shared a look with Kenneth as he glanced over to particularly fetching redhead. Leaning in he offered conspiratorially but in no way quiet. ''Christoph, Rogos and I will rate your strategy afterwards. Or not. You could just remain and drink with us.'' He leaned back again and grinned mildly.


-=-=-=-


Roleplay from Kenneth MacArbin


Dockside Drinks

Kenneth looked back at Nemean in open astonishment.

"More complicated?  Easy prey?  Is that how you view our fellow knights?  Not to mention Council members?"

Kenneth pointedly ignored the goblet, watching closely to see if the dig about Alyssa struck home.

"Are you an outright fool, or have you merely been partaking in diversions stronger than wine before we began this event?  And if I wish to prowl, I will do so for my own benefit, not your entertainment."


-=-=-=-


Dockside Drinks N5

Quote
Kenneth looked back at Nemean in open astonishment.

"More complicated?  Easy prey?  Is that how you view our fellow knights?  Not to mention Council members?" Kenneth pointedly ignored the goblet, watching closely to see if the dig about Alyssa struck home. "Are you an outright fool, or have you merely been partaking in diversions stronger than wine before we began this event?  And if I wish to prowl, I will do so for my own benefit, not your entertainment." ~Kenneth MacArbin


The goblet hovered between the two. Nemean considered the words and felt no small amount of surprise ebb as it made room for angled sorrow, neatly joined with a chunk of loss. He wanted to feel some sort of anger and tried to muster it but it was like trying to ignite a candle under water. Alyssa was no prey and he was no hunter. Silver shimmered as it slowly traveled through the air. Descending as Nemean lowered the goblet. His visage hid little for he wasn't good at these emotions. The otherwise fine and angular features of his face took on a darker hue as he looked down. The crest of his brow like a lip he just looked out from under. Admonishment embodied sat right there in the form of Kenneth. Why did he have to bring up Alyssa. Nemean sighed and put Kenneth's goblet on the bar.

Trying to think on his response wasn't helped by the influence of wine. He touched his nose in distraction and softly pinched it. ''If you must go there.'' He said softly to no one in particular. His lungs filled as he inhaled deeply before turning to Kenneth. ''I've only had eyes for her and no other.'' he surprised himself with how balanced his tone was. Not quite resigned but with certain hints of long contemplation. He could see a fleeting image of her face in his mind's eye. ''Are you not a man that favors chasing women?'' His eyebrows arched in something akin to sympathy while his voice sounded genuine with question. ''From what I heard, Kenneth, the women you like have red hair.'' He looked at him directly before making a small shrug. ''I thought you would welcome the suggestion I made. Fair mistake if I was wrong.''

''I've not chased women. Not like you if I am to believe the stories.'' Nemean licked the inside of his cheek. ''I see them but they don't have what she has.'' He righted himself on his seat, gesturing with his goblet. ''I don't get it either, that's why I said women are complicated. If I had invite Alyssa and another particular redhead, this evening would not be the same. You and I wouldn't be.'' For some reason that sounded quite final in Nemean's head. He went with it. Chalk it up to the wine. He nodded before glancing at Kenneth. ''Now, do we have to take this outside or will you opt for that goblet of wine finally or will you permit us some of your vast wisdom in the arts of women.'' He indicated Christopher and Rogos with his chin. ''I'm sure we'd all be grateful and remember, it was in good mirth.''

Not being fully convinced himself Nemean planted his feet squarely on the ground and sluggishly placed his own vessel of wine on the bar.

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