Old and New [Seydon]

[Rosa Gunn]

Rosa let him fuss for a moment, the use of her illusions rendering her temporarily spent. Lavender eyes watched him with a calm expression, after all this time he was still her Seroth, the sweet innocent boy that had wooed her on a space station in wild space. She reached up suddenly, seizing the front of his shirt and pulling him down for a fierce kiss.

That primal glint that had flashed in her eyes, burned bright as she released ."Have I told you today, how much I love you?" She asked him. Her other hand ran down her own ribs, and she winced.

"Three broken, a couple cracked. I'll be fine by morning. I think you can dote on me till then." Her hand rested on his cheek and she smiled, feeling for the first time in months that she was truly complete, overjoyed to have her husband home and for them to be together, even if it was getting into trouble in a stinking rancid brood.

"Help me off this floor will you, else it'll take me weeks to get rid of the stench."

[member="Seydon"]

 

[Seydon of Arda]

Contusions swelled across the left rib-cage and Seydon felt give in the flesh. She wasn’t hampered with a flailed cavity, but there was likewise no swift or comfortable method to transporting broken bone. Seydon utilized his coat as a wrapping, knotting it around Rosa’s torso and clenching in. He eased her out of dirt grime and smears of old, spent prey, promising he’d see to laundering her wrecked ensemble. Being told in reply then, that no, he wouldn’t, because he was rubbish calculating the wash cycle and her outfit wasn’t tailored for a hot soap bin and a stained washboard. They argued the point just below vehemence, trying to dull Rosa’s discomfort with spousal snark. He was an inept nerfherder. She was a difficult spinster.

The gates to the lift closed. Seydon took the chance to press his wife to a corner and carefully embrace her, torridly kissing back while the lift-cage shuttled them out of the sub-levels. Her empathic mien coaxed out wordless feelings: fear, elation, anger, relief, a well-aged lust, blood-hot love. The lift rattled on, timed gear teeth pulling at oiled chains, the deck screws shivering in their sink holes. It coasted to dormitory level and stilled. They didn’t hear the gates part and slid into its recess jamb. Seydon’s hands were in Rosa’s hair, working a little feverishly to keep her mind off her pain. He blindly reached for the gate frame and pulled them out into the hall.

Later, a little while, he had her settled on an upturned bucket. She was dressed down to her waist, tended to by strong hands leathery with scar-tissue. He’d rolled up his sleeves, face knitted with concentration. Bacta gelatin was spread across her ribs with a thin wood tongue, then dressed in dry cotton before ropes of bandaging were wrapped and tucked into place. Seydon ran his palm down her back, assessing the effort.

“Right...” He said. “That’ll need to stay for a bit. Best I can do without a medi-unit. Can’t imbibe you with any potions, that’d just kill you outright. ...Should hold and hopefully comfortably. And you ought to be able to dress in and out of the bandaging when you need to wash.

“Careful, careful,” He chided, watching her arms reaching to stretch. “Range of motion won’t be what you’re used to until the bone mends. Don’t go hurting yourself more. ...I’m not going anywhere. I’ll help you, Rose.”

[member="Rosa Gunn"]

 

[Rosa Gunn]

Rosa shot him weary look, she had almost forgotten how much fuss he could make over such a small injury. He was truly going to be insufferable for the next few hours, lest she took full advantage of him. "Can't believe your lecturing a healer." She teased, leaning toward him to kiss him softly on the cheek, masking a slight wince as she did.

"Ok, nurse, fetch my datapad from the desk." She managed to get her blouse back on and was buttoning it up when he returned a chastising look in his eyes. Rosa simply smiled innocently in response. "Am I allowed to give you the grand tour so far? I promise it doesn't involve anything strenuous. Unless you have something else in mind?"

That primal glint flashed across her eyes. She couldn't help herself, she'd not seen him for months and she had needs, needs that she would make the most of until they had to go their separate ways again. And if she wore him out she would simply lie with him, talking about anuthi g and everything.

[member="Seydon"]

 

[Seydon of Arda]

She was partially redressed, a sliver of bare stomach showing through her half-buttoned blouse. Lean muscle surrounding the navel and firm, fair skin. There was bruising still where the rancor had abused her, but a day or three, the discoloration would heal over and frenzied blood vessels calmed. Seydon reached over and stopped her from placing the last button on her shirt. They conversed through heady looks. Here, now? Yes! Yes here, yes now! What else were two grown adults, separated months at a time through work and galactic tragedies, to do when at last, they holed themselves up with protected privacy? Wait for the bone to rejoin, hands under their arses? Waste their too precious time?

...He went onto his knees before her and undid her fresh buttoning with just teeth and tongue. Hands reached to glide up her still bare hips, kneading and tickling the skin just around her kidneys. While Rosa shook with giggles, he stole up her belly and bound ribs, stealing a kiss between her breathy chuckles. Did it hurt to laugh now? He would mend that. Thoughts in the dark of his mind reminded him of obligated duties. Could only indulge so long before the Path called. Seydon loosed a growl, pausing at the realization he’d grunted it aloud. Rosa was watching him under her deeper-than-violet stare. She wore genteel femininity as a cloy veneer. Disguise. Her womanhood was a steel soul drenched in fire. The heat seized him.

No fade to darkness. White intensity boiled behind their eyes and scalded the air. He tucked her up against his waist and hips and held her against the closest wall. ...It occurred they’d come viciously close to losing one or the other just an hour prior. They paused a moment, just to stare. Again, Seydon committed Rosa’s face to memory and kissed her.

A cook-mouse scrounging for scraps in a forgotten kitchen flicked its ears in annoyance. Anarchic, orgastic howls echoed down from the upper dormitories.

[member="Rosa Gunn"]

 

[Rosa Gunn]

Later, they lay with limbs tangled on the bed, a few stray feathers sticking to them. A pillow had a fresh tear in it, leaking its soft down across the room. Rosa wasn't entirely sure when or how they ended up on the bed, so engrossed in the moment as she was. She cast her eyes about the room and smirked. She had a vivid recollection of the Golden Rose's interior having suffered a mess like this after a long weekend spent on Spira. She turned to look at Seydon to find him gazing at her, watching as he always did, as though clinging to every detail of her, so as not to forget.

"You were thinking about the Path." she told him, it wasn't a question, she knew him well enough to read his thoughts without actually reading them, "Albeit for a brief moment." she grinned, though there was a touch of sadness glinting in the corners of her eyes. She did not like discussing him leaving, especially so soon after he had arrived, but it lurked between them a shadow that would only grow the longer they left it, and if they left it too long it wold become a bitter discussion.

"No matter what you decide, love, I'll support you." But i want you to retire, I want you back, here, with me or at least, not so far away that I can't reach you. She didn't utter these words aloud, she dared not, not unless he asked her what she thought, then she'd tell him and he'd wish she hadn't. The truth was, they both knew what they wanted, but neither of them were willing to be the first to say it.

[member="Seydon"]

 

[Seydon of Arda]

“That’s just it,” Seydon said, words thick.

He laid with an arm just under her waist, Rosa propped up a head higher on a slope of borrowed pillows. Seydon relished the pleasant ache and burn very slowly cooling across his extremities. The afterglow was sweat; he still tasted her on the back of his tongue. Their bedroom chambers were too warm, flaking plaster again running with moisture, condensation dripping from rafters. The dormitories were sorely needing renovation. Would they get to it, however?

Time, Shev Rayner said once, looking out at the Western Dune Sea. Time enough.

“I love this, I... I love you. I don’t... It just seems like what I do defeats itself,” He said, turning to nestle against her throat. His words hummed up her neck. “I go. I work. I make coin. I come home. By the time the voyage is finished, coin’s run out again and I have to hit the trails. ...This place needs so much work. Your hands are full all of a sudden. And I can’t stomach thinking, I’m leaving all this, you, all the work behind because... Because of an obligation that doesn’t pay anything in my life forward.”

Seydon found a little vein running under her skin. Nipped it gently, kissing, slowly working into a hickie. “Failure and selfishness loom over my head every time I think about... pausing. Just stopping for a while. But you know...? Between the two of us, we don’t even need credits to live. Starting to figure it out now. ...I wanna stay a while. Very long while. For you, and for this...~”

[member="Rosa Gunn"]

 

[Rosa Gunn]

Rosa felt her heart flutter, a mix of hope and the sweet sensation of his breath upon her neck. She squirmed and his teased the skin with his lips, her fingers hitting him gently, warning him to stop, despite the mischief that glowed in her eyes momentarily. "The Path wasn't exactly built for selfishness, love." she replied softly "I wouldn't go so far to say you had failed, if you chose to step away for a while. With the work you have done, surely you are entitled to a bit of selfishness. To spend sometime with your wife and work at building a life."

She tilted her head to place a kiss on his head. "I would love nothing more than to spend an eternity with you, to build a life that we have seemed to be unable to so far, to live as husband and wife without the thought of such time apart looming over us every time we do get to be like this." She fell silent for a moment, trying to work out her next words.

"The truth is Seydon, I will be busy for the next few months, dashing from one end of the galaxy to the other for meetings with CEO's and politicians and I'd hate to drag you along to something when I know you'd feel useless." Oh she could put him to work, the Temple in itself needed a great deal of attention and even with the droids the Kaili was soon to bring her, she'd be hard pressed to supervise renovations and run the Foundation on her own. "I don't want to be the reason for you to give up something that has cost you so much, but...nor do I wish to see you disappear again, out of my reach and leaving me full of fear that you might not come back."

[member="Seydon"]

 

[Seydon of Arda]

The Path of Embers called to an exclusive brethren and the adage went that none of their ilk could ever retire lightly. The Hunt was addictive, bloodletting a visceral narcotic. It gave itself cyclical purpose through reciprocal violence, the Dunaan forever haunting a self-feeding loop of stalking, fighting, taking payment, and spending that hard earned bounty on the rare, disgustingly expensive materials their weaponry and gear depended upon. The circle reinitialized, calling the Dunaan on. Fight until all the blood was spent. Theirs or their enemy’s.

Now the Path waited for him in his dreams. Seydon couldn’t sleep without visions of haunting malignant creations. It was soothing, in a troubling way. Familiar routine, finalizing with a cool smirk and a hand outstretched to take payment for the slain bounty. What caught up were the instances of sitting awake on his cot, bleeding into the bedding, bandaged head-to-toe after particularly vicious encounters and listening to hollow gusts whirring through the ship-hold oxygen scrubbers. Alone, save for his disassembled kit splayed out over the decking. Without the Hunt, the Path, his thoughts veered away from work. There had been so much he had promised Rosa, so far unable to fulfill. Years were passing. Another umpteenth war was on and perhaps, somehow, they would get caught in its bow-wake and drowned.

He listened to Rosa’s counters. Rolling in a little closer, he sank his head against her shoulder and nuzzled the line of her collarbone. “...Rose. When either of us come home, we never expect we’ll find the other waiting. And home... We live in ship cabins, just to vacation briefly here or Arda or Spira. We’ve no home. ...I walked away from the Republic when I understood I could not live with the dichotomy between Jedi tenets and what we owed the government. ...I can’t live like I’m taking holidays just to be married. ...I’m going to find us a place. Build us a home, make it exactly how we want, how we’ve dreamed. ...Need be, I’ll take one more contract. Biggest purse I can find attached and come back with a nest egg we can squirrel from as we need. After that? ...I’ll give maybe Jorus a call or see what this Free Coaltion is up to in the core. Get some reliable work, that doesn’t have me so far away for so very long.”

Seydon sat up then, hunched against his knees. “Not about the good life. It’s about a life.”

[member="Rosa Gunn"]

 

[Rosa Gunn]

Rosa's heart ached for him, for the conflict he was battling within. If he did this, if he took one last job, it would be his most dangerous yet. A coin packet as large as he was hoping would not come easy, and she wondered what state he might come home in, or if he would come home at all. And yet...the idea...the dream of having a real home, of waking up everyday next to him and of knowing that when he did work, he was not alone, that friends watched his back for him. Was it worth the risk?

The selfish part of her cried yes, without a moments thought, that part that wanted to drag him with her to every corner of the galaxy while she worked, just so she could have him there, useful or not. Then there was the part that feared for him, for his well-being, the part that wondered what would become of him if he did step off the Path, and more importantly, what the last job might do to him.

She sat up, far faster than she should have, forgetting that she was injured, something in her side gave a small pop. She let out a half stifled cry, her finger finding his arm, nails digging into his flesh as she tried to get her breath back. "You..." she gasped again, hissing a soft curse as she did. "You don't need to take that last job." she managed breathlessly, she waved his concern away. "No, listen." she continued sternly. "I've still got money tucked away, its enough to get us somewhere, provided its cheap." she gave a half laugh, and regretted it instantly. Whatever pain he had been distracting her from was coming back. Her eyes fluttered closed and she bit her lower lip. "As for this place, as for the foundation, you don't need to worry over that. That's what the sponsorship's are for..."

She opened her eyes and looked at him. "Seroth," she spoke softly. "I can't bear the thought of you going off for one last job. Not alone, not without someone to watch your back."

[member="Seydon"]

 

[Seydon of Arda]

“I promised I’d help take care of us,” Seydon insisted, kneeling with Rosa atop the bedding. He held a palm where the bone had jawed, trying to keep the antagonized muscle from constricting in too tightly. They eased into a careful embrace. Seydon kissed and breathed through her hair, stroking the muscle up her nape.

“Maybe it won’t even come to that. I don’t know, but I promised...” Through melodramatics in the wake of Darron Wraith’s emotional fallout, the loss of child, war and further war, uprooting to go institute an independent sanctum in the East, all her troubles battling to broker meaningful peace, to that long stint caught behind enemy lines, indoctrinated into a secondary personality... Seydon had been a poor husband. Promises stood unfulfilled, due to work, inability, and mistakes. A chance to do right by Rosa required sacrifice. Something had to give, if he wanted the time and intimacy with her that he knew she craved in even greater measure. If it meant putting a last hunting ground to the torch...

“Either way, it’s the last I’ll see of the Path for a goodly while. ...Seroth?” He asked, a little mazed. She called him by the old name whenever the moment was especially dire. Or charged. Seydon eased her back to the pillow den, taking care with her wrapped chest.

[member="Rosa Gunn"]

 

[Rosa Gunn]

"Oh, damn your promises!" Rosa snapped, anger and pain getting the better of her as he laid her back down. She closed her eyes and let out a long sigh, reaching for his hand she gave it a squeeze. "Sorry love. I just...I worry with you taking one more...and such a big one..." she opened her eyes and fixed him with her violet gaze. "I worry that you won't come back." She bit her lower lip again, her hand reaching to his face, thumb stroking his cheek.

"I don't want to fight with you. Not now, not yet, we've time for that still...I hope." She said after a moment, eyes slipping closed again. If she was to be well enough by morning to tackle the next horde of beast that lurked in the lower levels, she need to rest and to heal. She let herself relax, letting go of her worries and frustration and Seyon's determination to do right by her. She loved him, and he loved her and it was enough that he did that. A thought struck her and she opened her eyes again.

"What if..." she paused, almost dreading his response. "What if I came with you?"

[member="Seydon"]

 

[Seydon of Arda]

“...We’ll see how we manage with the flies,” Seydon said. Noncommittal promise, the best the Dunaan could manage placed on the spot.

Rosa Gunn’s martial skills weren’t in question. He trusted his wife’s intuition, in politics, healing, sex, and combat. She was, though, a sensitive empathic. A kind of psychic mirror variant, naturally gifted, able to subtle ascertain a target’s emotional make-up. It had its weaknesses but most prominently was the toll inflicted on the empath herself. Negative, corrosive emotion was venomous. He understood it triggered anxiety episodes to outright panic and sociopathic attacks. Skeins of psionic bars and multi-layered mental prisons kept her alter-ego silenced. Bad empathic encounters weakened those cages. Dunaan hunts, the prey they sought and battled, the curses they brought to victimized casualties and broken communities, would not be kind to her.

“We’ll see,” He murmured, laying down beside her. Saw her heavy, lidded eyes blinking. Seydon reached over, pushing a lock of jet-hair over her ear. Her frustration, dread over his profession, rated high amongst reasons he was keen to divorce from the Path of Embers. At least until there was no one left over to worry about his fate... “Now, rest, darling. You don’t look in the mood for more pain management...”

[member="Rosa Gunn"]

 

[Rosa Gunn]

Rosa gave a soft sleepy chuckle, eyes sliding closed. "No, I suppose not." She replied, shuffling a little closer as he settled down beside her. She did her best to push all thoughts of the Path from her mind, seeking comfort in the force and her husband's presence within it.

Bit by bit, she let go, she let go of her fear and her pain and slipped into a rwtive healing trance, riding over the ebb and flow of the force and distantly aware of Seydon' s breathing easing as he slipped into sleep. Hairline cracks knitted tight and broken ribs realigned, their jagged edge merging once more to form a while and healthy bone.

Outside the temple, the storm rumbled into silence and by morning the rain had stopped. The sun rose across the canopy and mists rose from the jungle making the air close and uncomfortable. Yet the height of the temple gave them access to fresh and cooler air, courtesy of the plateau in which it was embedded.

Sunlight stretched across the terrace falling in golden beams onto the foot of their four poster bed, bringing light to the carnage of the night before, strewn clothing, torn pillows and the odd button that glitters in the sun.

Rosa's eyes opened, but she didn't stir, instead enjoying the warmth that lay by her side. Returned her head to watch [member="Seydon"] sleeping.

 

[Seydon of Arda]

He smelled grassy dew and pollen. A breeze shifted through a partially wedged bedroom attic window, turning over loose pillow feathers, tickling at his stubble. Seydon stirred. Eyes slitted open, panning slowly, immobile while he listened to the atmosphere. It was morning tension; an old habit, Seydon had woke with unwanted company round and even within his bare camps prior and had long inculcated a skill of observational rousing.

There was Rosa at his side, her hand on his thigh. Clear sharp nails were etching traces up over his hip bone and then down, dipping dangerously along his pelvis. He turned and saw her watching his chest-falls, how he breathed at first morning light. Sometime during the eve, she’d unwrapped her bandaging and was blithely showcasing her unmarked ribs. Seydon reached, sweeping his palm over her skin, examining for any lingering swelling or bone lumps. It excused him to coddle other, more pronounced features of her femininity. The Dunaan murmured her name from the back of his throat, deep and gravelly, rolling over, settling against her belly.

They’d time. Seydon would not let them leave their dormitory without excising the poison that had built over their last conversation. They giggled and whispered and kiss, breaking from flirting to cast glances at the open washroom. Sweat, dried bacta, Rancor stink, and wood rot still clung to them. Sunlight was already warming the bedroom air. Dampness slid between their stomachs. Could the shower wait? No. Seydon growled and leapt off the mattress, carrying Rosa away to the bathroom. He didn’t bother with kicking the door closed. They stood close in the narrow stall, closing a thin, patchy curtain he made a note to replace. Together, husband and wife turned the faucet valves, then lost themselves to a most invigorating wash.

[member="Rosa Gunn"]

 

[Rosa Gunn]

Feirce kisses, and the sweet sensation of his touch heightened by the water, pushed all thoughts of the Path from Rosa's mind. They used up the hot water, and echoing cries sent the nesting falcons from the roof. Rosa was glowing by the time the padded out, leaving wet footprints on the floor, unable to keep the smile from her face. She rooted in the cupboard, finding the two, least moth eaten towels that she could, stealing another kiss from [member="Seydon"] as she gave him his.

Her wet feet carried her to the terrace, sunlight making water droplets diamonds on her skin as she towelled her hair. The life in the jungle seemed to rise up to meet her, teeming with the force and reflecting her contentment. She began to sing softly, the tune carrying away from her on the wind, lost in her contentment. It wouldn't be long before the skies darkened, and they would be parted again, and Rosa wanted to make the most of what time they had. Be it locking themselves away in the room for days, or tackling the great many chores of restoring the temple.

Her data slate trilled out from somewhere on the floor, a high chime to let her know she'd received another message, glancing over her shoulder she gave a half hearted sweep of the room for it, decided against trying to find it and shrugged. She caught Seydon's eye and grinned. "Are we staying in here today? Or are we going hunting?"

 

[Seydon of Arda]

“...Hunting,” Seydon said after a beat.

He had collected his clothing, sitting at the bedside dressing, adjusting his belted vest, dark pants, sliding on brushed vambraces over machine-stitched gloves. Shin-guards were fitted and locked into place. The coat, shoulder cape, and cap he left hung over atop the mattress pole ends. Already, the day was warming his throat and jaw with peppered sweat. He collected Razorlight and Winterfang from their place by the coat rack.

“Figured our day could run as thus,” Seydon began, lacing up hard-leather, hard-soled boots fitted under the greaves. A formidable smile crooked his mouth. “We see to this other nest. Shoo them or exterminate, which ever you like. We come back upstairs. I make dinner. And then we make love until it hurts. Keep going afterward.”

The itinerary waited her assent. Some called it ‘whipped’ behaviour, but those many ‘some’ were not familiar with the biblical knowledge Seydon possessed of his wife. Therein lied priceless devotion. They were getting too old, too worn, to deal with anything so childish. Rosa would pass along a look, then a follow up gesture. That was all. She’d need only glance over, draw her fingers in ‘jive’ sign, then they wouldn’t leave their chambers. Seydon would lock up for the day, play something toasty on the holonet console nestled by the meagre kitchen, leave a thousand wordless prayers across Rosa’s skin until they burned into nothingness.

He knew she craved his culinary skill, though~

[member="Rosa Gunn"]

 

[Rosa Gunn]

Rosa's remained where she was on the terrace, sun drying her skin, hair beginning to curl as it dried. She watched her husband dress with the slightest touch of disappointment in her expression. Though she took pleasure in knowing she would get to take it all back off later, and by the force, she would take her time and make it hell for him when she did. While e laced up his boots she padded over to him, fingers reaching to lift his chin so he looked up at her. She bent low, her still damp hair tickling his face.

"You're forgetting one, very minor thing from that itinerary, love." She kissed him full, drawing teeth across his lower lip as she pulled away. "Breakfast."

She danced away from him, collecting her own clothing from the floors she did, most of it she cast into the laundry bin, unable to bear the stench of rancor brood that still remained on it. The closet held her small stock of fresh clothing. She dressed, slowly, deliberately, not looking at him but keeping her focus on him in the force ready to dodge if need be. Something caught her eye on the floor of the closet, a glint of tarnished gold. She'd not remembered she'd brought it off the Rose. A quick flick of her toes and the mask vanished under fallen clothes. He didn't need to know, nor did he need to be reminded of that duel.

She pulled on tall leather boots over her knees, turning to raise a foot to rest on the edge of the bed so she could lace them up. "We'll have to kill the hunting flies." she told him, conversationally. "They're attracted to the noise of repulsor engines and I think they'll just keep coming back." She switched feet, "Plus, their savage little things."

She scooped up her gloves and lightsaber, spotting her dataslate on the floor. She picked that up too, and made tracks into the kitchen, scanning the new message as she went. Th Iron Lord Protectors message played aloud and she smirked at it, added Denon to her list of places to visit, and set it down on the kitchen counter where Seydon was trying to make head or tails of the lack of supplies. She did, after all, live on ration pack when he wasn't here. She padded to the caff machine, and kick started it, the noise of grinding beans and smell of roasted coffee filling the kitchen.

[member="Seydon"]

 

[Seydon of Arda]

He observed Rosa’s dressing ritual with the same tight-lipped attention a cloistered acolyte would devote to a judicious sermon. She was, in a lone word, provocative. Lingerie done in black lace terraced her body, gave her sensuality an added accent, before she donned a second set of dark apparel. There was a tense in her shoulders. Keeping a third, unseen eye on her husband, in case things took a heady, natural course and she needed to quickly dash out of reach before he ruined her clean ensemble, ruined the expensive underwear she took a private degree of pride in. Seydon snorted, rose off the bed, passed her on the way to the kitchen. He ducked his hand and swiftly pinched her rump, dodging away from her swipe.

Pest, she said through a smirk.

The kitchen and pantry presented a hellish bungle. Flash-dried, refrozen meal packets, some vacuum sealed meat cutlets, a dozen untouched Dantooine Turkey eggs, a rough cornucopia somehow spanning several major food designations. Seydon laid his gloves away, rolled back his sleeves, and swiftly washed out a greasy pan waiting in the sink. He was fast in getting the stove top warming, clicking the gas feed and setting the burner on with a pyrokinetic flare. The holonet console powered on, playing an easy broadcast channel, filling their chambers with music beside the waft of melting butter.

Breakfast was as best as the Dunaan could mend together. Ancillary cups of hot noodle soup, sprinkled with garlic chives, hot pepper flakes, and dashes of spice to give the beef broth a little kick. Main courses were folded cheese omelettes, layered in old cheddar, Naboo mushrooms, cubes of boar ham, onions, emerald peppers, and sections of tomato he saved from the balcony garden. Arranged by thick ham slices and buttered toast, slathered generously in a makeshift hollandaise sauce. They would have to make do with sugar-packet orange juice mixes. Seydon stood by the table, awaiting Rosa.

“...Best I could fabricate. Taste might be stale in places.”

[member="Rosa Gunn"]

 

[Rosa Gunn]

Seydon's culinary skill never failed to amaze Rosa, pulling together a miniature feast out of seemingly nothing. He'd an eye for it she'd never managed to grasp and she would have been lying if she denied it was one of the many reasons she missed him when he was gone. While he created a master piece she busied herself steaming milk, smiling at its glossy texure as she poured it into the waiting caff, creating dark patterns in its surface. Scooping up both mugs, she padded to the waiting table, set them down and leant over to kiss her husband softly. "It looks wonderful, thank you."

Settling herself into her chair and reached first for the noodle soup, flavours dashing across her tongue like she'd not tasted in months. A sigh of pleasure escaped her lips and she glanced up at her husband, her eyes conveying unspoken words. If they didn't have work to do, she might have offered a dessert that would make a mess of the kitchen. "I love you." she murmured between mouthfuls.

[member="Seydon"]

 

[Seydon of Arda]

“Mmhmm,” He smiled.

He watched her task between dishes, steel-ware arched through her thumb and forefinger, piercing and shovelling in equal gesture through little makeshift gardens of food. The soup looked first to go, and he observed her down back the steaming broth with little falter. The omelette was swiftly devoured next, in tandem with the salted ham. What was left of the hollandaise was mopped up with the toast. He spied her untouched orange juice, frowning, collecting her mug for a caff refill. They would wean her off condensed hot-water caffeine packets and onto drinks with actual substance. Seydon wasn’t a fan, though he knew the sugar and chemical intake was what gave Rosa her distinct edge eviscerating through obtuse paperwork.

A small sin. The Dunaan regularly consumed alchemical potions that were incredibly toxic. His elevated metabolism and all associated automnic processes allowed them to affect him properly. Maybe, Seydon thought, he had little room to talk. He handed over the refilled mug, rubbing his thumbs powerfully into a spot of muscle just where her shoulders met the base of her neck. Until the skin was flush and warm, and blood flow was easing up to the bottom of her skull.

“Alright. Now we work that breakfast off. Got some caff in the thermos, creamer and sugar in my belt, if – if you get a craving,” He said, pulling on both swords once more. Svelte harness straps carried dark vials of oils and potions. A lean satchel connected to a belt beneath his vest. “Now, tell me all about these ‘flies’. Are we in store for anything like that rancor burrow?”

[member="Rosa Gunn"]