Private Ragdoll Physics | Invite

[Natasi Fortan]

It was unusual for it to rain in Herevan at this time of year. Usually, the freezing temperatures turned the precipitation to flurries and blizzards, but the temperature was hovering just over freezing now, so it was rain instead. Natasi stood in the study, watching the rain. A fire crackled in the grate opposite the window, and a small fountain burbled in the corner, one of the many fountains that dotted Herevan Hold and its grounds. The estate and the castle itself straddled a large, raging river, harnessing it for irrigation and powering the hydroelectric power plant beneath the castle itself. It also fed fountains and water features across the castle and its grounds, so that Natasi had grown up constantly serenaded by the gentle babbling of running water. It was soothing.

Natasi wondered whether her guests found it soothing, or whether it induced a need to urinate. It seemed to be an even split among visitors to Herevan.

She had risen early to review the contents of her red box and had dispatched it, completed, back to the capital. It was past sunrise, but still dark due to heavy clouds that blotted out the sun. Not a good day for riding, more's the pity. Natasi found, to her surprise, that she was itching to show off Herevan to Captain Grav. She could have tried to deceive herself that it was an important aspect of his job to ensure her security, but that wasn't it. Dyrn Grav was a nice person, pleasant to be around, easy to spend time with. It was nice to have someone around who wasn't political or a child or who wanted something from her. She tried to remind herself that he was engaged in an act of public service by putting himself between Natasi and danger, that it was his job. She didn't want to read too much into his openness, or his easy smile, or the way his eyes sometimes seemed to linger on her.

She didn't want to.

Turning from the window, she went to the fireplace and pulled the bell cord next to the mantle. A moment later, a footman arrived at the door. "Your Ladyship?" he asked.

"Would you ask Mr. Draygo to meet me in the ballroom?"

"Right away, milady."

Natasi nodded her thanks and left the masculine confines of the study behind. It had belonged to her father before the castle's destruction and she had had it rebuilt to his exact specifications: plain dark blue damask and dark woods, with minimal décor: a landscape painting on one wall, and a mirror on the other, with simple, non-fussy curtains on the windows. The ballroom, on the other hand, had been her mother's domain and was... excessive. The nature of the room combined with her mother's tastes (she wasn't Galidraani but Bakuran, after all) made it more baroque than Natasi would have chosen, but it was the way Reima had wanted it, so it was the way it would remain. Today, it would be the unlikely setting for the beginning of Natasi's study with Captain Grav. The room was large enough that they could do anything without worrying about knocking anything over, breaking a window, or scuffing a wall.

Per her instructions, the center of the room had been lined with plush mats that would cushion any impacts. Anything else that Dyrn would require could easily be achieved, he need only to ask, but hopefully this would be sufficient to get started. As she waited for Dyrn, Natasi shucked out of her bulky sweater to reveal her exercise clothes below: leggings and a form-fitting long-sleeved shirt, a pair of lightweight athletic shoes, and her constant companion: the beautiful bracelet that was both ornamental and functional. She was never without it. She did some stretches as she waited, then launched into an easy jog around the perimeter of the ballroom. She might as well get warmed up, since she was fully expecting Dyrn to be ready to put her through her paces.

Dyrn Grav

 

[Dyrn Grav]

​

The ballroom had been prepared, as Dyrn had been informed. He didn't know to what extent, but he trusted that Lady Fortan had organized appropriately, as she tended to do. Besides, the Guardsman doubted there would be a full conversion to a dojo for the ballroom, which was perfectly acceptable as the initial instruction wouldn't require the more advanced equipment. Once the footman had arrived, to request Dyrn's presence for Lady Fortan, the Guardsman nodded and stood from where he sat on the edge of his - admittedly lavish and very comfortable - bed.

We'll begin with a test, to see how much Lady Fortan knows.

Dressed in simple black clothing, a sleeveless shirt and baggy pants with no shoes, Dyrn made his way through the impressively decorated and large castle. He had seen very few places like it, truth be told, and despite his want to admit a willingness to adapt to anything... well, the castle was massive and a little intimidating, insofar as compared to what he had grown up knowing. He wondered if there were places in the dwelling that even Lady Fortan had yet to see? Still, it didn't take long for Dyrn to arrive, as he had taken the night prior to memorize the castle layout. It had been an undertaking, but it was his job to know every inch of the location, if he was to be effective.

Dyrn pushed through some doors, as he was greeted with the ballroom turned dojo. Training mats had been prepared, placed in the middle of the area, and looked suitable to the task. Still, the Guardsman's eyes shifted to the individual who jogged around the outer edges of those mats, as he saw Lady Fortan in her form fitting leggings, long sleeved shirt and training shoes. The bracelet was present, also, which made Dyrn smile. He was pleased that the emergency device was being used and remembered, it was an important item that could potentially help save Lady Fortan's life after all, and had no place on a shelf. He turned and moved to close the double doors.

"Good morning, your Majesty," Dyrn said as he closed the entry and turned to face her, he started to walk toward the mats. "It's good to see you warming up. When you are ready, we can step onto the training mats and begin some stretching."

No sooner had Dyrn finished, than his barefoot touched the mat. It was a stark contrast to the chill floor of the castle. As the Guardsman continued to watch Lady Fortan jog, his bright eyes watching her body movements, gauging her physicality. She was in very good shape, lean and muscled, but not excessively so. A good balance. With a clear of his throat, Dyrn moved to the middle of the mats, then waited...

"Did you have a pleasant sleep, ma'am?"

Natasi Fortan​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

She had lapped the ballroom for a fourth time and was approaching the fifth when Dyrn entered. She pushed to a rapid speed and she was starting to get out of breath. Natasi raised a hand in greeting and finished the loop before jogging to the center of the room where the mats were laid out. "Good morning," she said, offering a pleasant smile as she came to a half next to the mat. Her eyes dropped from his face down to his feet (not lingering so obviously this time). He was barefoot. She knelt and untied her laces, looking up at Dyrn in the process.

He was so much taller from down here. She had to crane her neck to see him.

"Very well, thank you," she said. Natasi had returned to the bedroom she'd been in as a young woman. She and Talbot had taken over the master suite when they had been married, but Natasi had never quite gotten around to removing Talbot's things from the drawers and closets, and she didn't feel like exposing herself to that on her first night there. Besides, her room -- on the northern side of the gallery overlooking the grand hall -- was closest to the bachelors' corridor on the western side of the gallery where Dyrn's room was, so that he could see her door from his room. Security. That and Natasi's window faced the waterfall side of the castle, which meant when she opened it, she could hear the soothing sounds of the rushing water. "Something about being at home, I'm sure."

Natasi pulled her shoe and sock from her left foot, then set about working on the right foot. "How about you? I hope the sound of water isn't too much. Some people don't take to it very well. The Dowager Duchess of Foxfield, for instance, claims the sound gives her the most bizarre dreams." She pulled her other shoe and sock off before climbing to her feet. "If it's too loud, we have some other rooms on the higher floors, more removed from the waterfall. I'm happy to sleep up there too, if you think it's not safe to be separated." She paused a beat and blanched, then half-turned to catch a glimpse of herself in one of the large, gilded mirrors on the pretense of pulling her hair into a secure ponytail. "I mean -- in my own room. Obviously." She tugged her ponytail into place and gave it another moment before turning back to Dyrn.

She took a tentative step onto the mat, sinking an inch or so into the plush, steadying herself by spreading her feet a little. "How does this work?" Natasi asked uncertainly. "Do I salute? Or bow?"

Dyrn Grav

 

[Dyrn Grav]

​

Dyrn nodded in return to the wave, as Lady Fortan reached the edges of the mat and began to work at her shoes. It seemed her night had been well, that was good, especially after the charter debacle and how that situation had raised tensions. Being back in a familiar place, in familiar hallways and rooms, in familiar beds was likely exactly what the Supreme Leader had needed. It also put Dyrn at some ease, as their rooms were close enough to see down the corridor, which meant the Guardsman was able to rush to Lady Fortan in less than fifteen seconds, should the need arise. He had tested; he knew exactly how far it was from door to door.

"Home is where one feels safest, ma'am," Dyrn agreed as he watched her, and noted how she looked up from being knelt down. It was an odd feeling, as usually the Guardsman was the one who dropped to a knee, but he didn't look too far into it since the circumstances were quite different from the usual protective duty. "And the quarters I've been appointed at perfect, your Majesty. I'm close to you, which is my primary concern, and the room itself - the bed - is very comfortable... perhaps too comfortable? I might find it hard to wake, if something happens."

The tall Royal Guard offered a grin, as he made the quip, but was quick to add:

"I joke, of course."

When asked about the water, Dyrn didn't have much to say negatively about it, unlike the poor Duchess of Foxfield. And as Lady Fortan took off her other shoe and sock, she stood and continued to speak, suggesting there were alternatives on higher floors and she was willing to sleep up there to avoid being separated. The words caused her to hesitate, as Dyrn watched Lady Fortan half-turn and focus intensely on readying her ponytail, before she added about being in her own room. Obviously. Though the Guardsman smirked, as he gave her one last once over and turned to walk back from her a few meters.

"The water doesn't bother me, no, I find it quite relaxing," Dyrn said as he repressed the smile that threatened to cross his face. The implication of the innocent statement after the fact when she realized had been winsome. He did add, half-seriously-half-cheekily, because despite himself there was some level of enjoyment when she blushed: "For now, the rooms are adequate for security, I think. However, if you feel that I should be closer, to protect you, I defer to your judgment, your Majesty."

With the innocuous moment passed, Dyrn faced Lady Fortan squarely as she stepped onto the mats. He watched her test the bounce, which wasn't too much, enough to assist in avoiding injury for incorrectly performed actions. When she asked about saluting or bowing, the Guardsman blinked, as he was taken aback for a moment; he hadn't even considered that, he had just assumed... well...

"When training in the Royal Guard, both combatants or trainees, would bow to one another before and after the session. Perhaps we keep that tradition, ma'am?" Dyrn said slowly, before he smiled and then bowed at the waist, his arms held along his sides, as he bent forward. He kept his head angled to keep Lady Fortan in view, before he stood upright and considered. "I did have one question, your Excellency, and it might seem odd, but by no means intended as disrespectful or flippant to you... when training, we Guardsmen leave our ranks outside of the ring, and enter as equals compared solely by skill."

Dyrn licked at his suddenly dry lips, before he worked his jaw muscles.

"If, hm, your Majesty is acceptant of recreating a similar training dojo, between us, perhaps we might... that is to say, dispense with formal titles or ranks, and use given names - or surnames, of course, if that is too familiar. I do not want to seem forward, it's just I've been trained very particularly for many, many years and it feels natural to adopt that same routine to our training."

The Guardsman looked down, he felt like a blundering fool, honestly. He shouldn't have asked, he should have kept the status quo, to maintain her superiority. But no, Dyrn had taken to replicating his own training methods, which the Supreme Leader hadn't asked for - she wanted self-defense training, not familiarity.

"I apologize, your Majesty. It's not my place to..."

Dyrn decided to push on.

"We can begin with some simple tests," Dyrn pushed on, his cheeks hot. "I took the liberty of speaking to your footman, and requesting some items, I expect them to arrive any moment... the protective supplies will hopefully be along soon. In the meantime, could you come toward me and punch lightly at my palms? I want to see your speed, not so much your strength."

With a bend of his knees, Dyrn braced himself in a comfortable position, before he held up both hands with the palms toward Lady Fortan, as he waited for her to come closer...

Natasi Fortan​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi was not blind to the fact that Grav seemed to enjoy her embarrassment at the occasional unconsidered word, so she was tempted to let him suffer with his own struggle. But this was a little different from Natasi's unintended double-meaning, so Natasi elected to put him out of his misery. "It's funny you should mention that," said Natasi, reaching over to place a settling hand on his forearm. "I appreciate deference as much as the next girl -- probably a little more -- but between you and I..." She spread her hands, palms up, once more uncharacteristically tongue tied. "You've volunteered to put yourself between me and a bullet, or me and a rampaging rancor, or me and a crazy person with a knife. I'd prefer if we didn't stand on ceremony when we don't have to. I fully expect you to be flinging me across this place, so the juxtaposition of calling me 'Your Majesty' or 'Lady Fortan' while so doing would be -- in a word -- hilarious."

"In public, perhaps, it would be best to be more formal, but deference is for people who need to defer," Natasi explained. It was an emerging philosophy, even for her, so she was careful about how to put it into words. "For instance, politicians who should be accountable to the people could use the occasional reminder that they are accountable to me in the people's stead." She stopped and shook her head, closing her eyes to roll them behind her lids. "I don't know, Dyrn," she said after a moment. "Perhaps the whole thing is completely ridiculous. At any rate -- yes -- " She put a hand to her chest. "Natasi." She pointed at him. "Dyrn. Agreed?"

She had to admit that his conscientiousness was endearing, but she didn't like to see him uncomfortable like this. She didn't know if she could ever persuade him that she didn't see herself above him. Other people, perhaps, but to lord over a bodyguards worn to protect her? That was the epitome of common. Natasi figured that was likely not going to happen today, so she put it to the back of her mind. She executed the same kind of bow -- not quite as fluidly or naturally as he did, of course, but it was early days. Natasi Fortan had the capacity to learn.

Natasi absorbed his instructions, her eyebrows lifting. "You're in no danger from me, I assure you," she said with a self-deprecating chuckle. Natasi had never been one to resort to physical violence on a personal level. The truth was that she had suffered for being unable to defend herself on more than one occasion. It wasn't that she considered it beneath her, but there was a class element: Good Galidraani girls don't... it was the phrase that had been at the beginning of many an admonishment in Natasi's life, followed by things like: hit their brothers, talk back to their mothers, walk unchaperoned in the gardens (especially with Viscount Gilbraith), speak like a sailor at the dinner table, read books like that... Of course, taking up a combat skill beyond socially acceptable hunting was firmly on the list.

"All right... well, you asked for it," said Natasi. She balled her fists and moved towards him, driving her right fist towards his left palm once, twice, three times. Of course, her form was atrocious; Natasi had never seen a fistfight, let alone participated in one. She didn't know a thing about what to do with her feet, her legs, her weight. She was concerned about losing her balance, so she tried not to move too aggressively for fear of ending up on her back. She tried switching to her other hand, turning her body a little to facilitate this.

After a few minutes of this comically ineffectual punching, there came a knock at the door and Natasi turned. "Come," she called authoritatively. The door opened and a liveried footman entered with a silver tray, like the ones often used to serve coffee and tea in the library -- a tradition at Herevan that Dyrn had yet to experience. He approached and stopped near the edge of the mats and bowed. Natasi surveyed the items on the cart, then glanced over at Dyrn. "Is this everything you need?" she asked. There were a few seemingly unrelated items on the cart: what Natasi could see was some fabric, a few pairs of gloves in varying sizes, a butter knife.

Natasi was not about to question Dyrn's methods, so she simply allowed him to survey the items and, since all was in order, Natasi dismissed the footman with instructions that she and Mr. Draygo were not to be disturbed except in the case of an emergency. When they were left alone, Natasi turned back to Dyrn and crossed her arms over her midsection. "Dare I ask?" she said, nodding towards the supplies he'd requested.

Dyrn Grav

 

[Dyrn Grav]

​

Dyrn couldn't help but smirk as Lady Fortan began to state the circumstance of the training. It was true, they would be engaged in a range of unbecoming behavior, as it were, with arm locks, hip tosses, punches and kicks. And for Dyrn to maintain the social proprietary of Lady Fortan's lofty and important titles - while his knee was in the small of her back, and she in a chokehold - might seem a bit... farcical. So to realize both shared an underlying agreement with the deference that could be temporarily suspended, for the sake of training, was a relief. The Guardsman had been concerned about the situation, if only because his actions would be at odds with his addressing of the Supreme Leader, and the result would be nothing less than as Lady Fortan said herself - hilarious.

"I understand, your Majesty," Dyrn said in response to the claims of hilarity. He agreed. He also realized he had automatically used Lady Fortan's title, to which he balked a little himself, and offered a smile. Lady Fortan went on to explain that public was the obvious time for titles and proper addresses, to which the Royal Guard agreed with immediately. He had assumed as such, and wouldn't have dared call Lady Fortan anything in such a casual manner around others, unless she demanded it... and even then, Dyrn would have found the prospect hard. Still, she finished by stating both their names, with the question posed.

"When in public then, as it should be, but when training..." The Guardsman said with a nod. He mirrored her movements, as he touched his chest. "Dyrn." He then pointed to her. "Natasi. Agreed."

That sorted that.

Next came the general test for Natasi's speed, as Dyrn stood there with palms raised, and listened to the self-deprecating jokes she made. He inclined his head, and gave Lady Fortan an expression of no need for that, before they started. There was no easy way to say it; her form was rough, her balance was off, but Natasi also showed some decent physical speed and a natural inclination to adjusting her weight with different hands used to strike. The balance could be honed, but adaptability in striking posture was considerably harder, though she had it naturally. That made things easier.

"Good, your speed is decent," Dyrn said as he glanced down and cast a gaze over her legs and footing. He studied her, as Natasi continued for a few minutes. "And I see the makings of good striking posture, with some adjustments and training--"

The arrival of someone at the door made the Guardsman fall silent, to which Lady Fortan called for entry. It was the footman, who brought the tray - a tray? - of supplies requested. Dyrn remained still as it was delivered, before Natasi asked if that was everything, to which he nodded. "Yes, thank you." He said to the footman, before said servant exited the ballroom hall and closed the doors again. That left the pair alone, as the Supreme Leader looked over the items on the tray and seemed... perplexed?

"You could, but I'll show you," Dyrn said as he walked over to the tray and crouched to pick up the fabric. He took both rolls, then walked back to his training companion. He said simply, as he began to unroll the first lot, then spoke and waited for her to do so. "Please put your hands out, fingers splayed, Natasi."

Once she did, Dyrn would begin to wrap the material across her knuckles, around her hand and palm, in alternating directions, until finally working his way to wrap up a ways to reinforce the wrist. He did the same to the other hand. The wraps were firm, not tight, and the Guardsman reached down as he held one of Lady Fortan's hands in his own and glanced to her - "Can you make a fist? Is it tight, but not unbearable?" - and were there any adjustments to be made, he would do so, otherwise he would nod after inspecting her fingers.

"Protection against harming your knuckles, fingers or wrists. Those will help, for later."

With a smile, Dyrn raised his palms again, then nodded. He would back up a few steps, then started to circle as he spoke.

"Okay, if you could begin punching the air in front of you, I want to see how you move naturally before we adjust. Whenever you're ready, Natasi."

Natasi Fortan​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi watched the footman carefully as he performed his task. He seemed to be studiously avoiding looking at her, as if she were an eldritch horror that, if studied too closely, would rob him of his senses and sanity and life. A memory occurred to Natasi, of her grandmother -- the redoubtable (some might say: belligerent) -- the Dowager Countess of Herevan telling a friend that servants tended to be more conservative than their masters, and if that were true the footman was probably horrified to see his mistress in clothing that, compared to what she was normally seen in, left terribly little to the imagination. Natasi frowned and made a note to be more careful in the future.

I've been away too long, she thought mournfully before turning her attention back to her guardsman-cum-personal trainer.

He asked her to hold out her hands, and she did. Is it my imagination, she wondered as he set to work carefully wrapping her hands in the gauzy material, or is he rather relishing this equality? He says my name like we've been friends for years. At one time in her life, Natasi would have found the familiarity offensive, but dying had taught Natasi the difference between that which was important and that which was decidedly not important. Eager to help, she pushed her bracelet up her forearm to make room for the wrapping, then did the same with the delicate heirloom platinum wristwatch on her other wrist.

"I can see how you'd be good with making models," said Natasi quietly as he went on with his work. "When you first told me, I wasn't so sure. I thought you might have been having a little fun with me. I didn't think hands your size would be suited to it, but they are certainly capable of... " She let out a soft breath as he finished. "...handling delicate things." She flexed her hand experimentally -- the one he wasn't holding in his own -- and squeezed it into a fist. "Yes, I think it's just right," she said, looking up at him. When he released her other hand she did the same and then nodded.

She held her fists in a fighting pose, but was distracted when Dyrn began to circle her. She felt like a mare being examined by a potential buyer -- a position that she was typically approached from the opposite side. Natasi considered herself to be a prize filly, but a horse's true value was really up to the appraiser in this situation. Natasi's eyes followed him as he went in and out of her vision. She obeyed his instructions, thrusting her fists forward into the air as she had before, but without the target of his fists, her motions were not as precise and disciplined.

Natasi felt ridiculous. "I feel ridiculous," she confessed. Her tone made it clear that she was amused rather than annoyed, and she didn't stop. She was a good sport, after all.

Dyrn Grav

 

[Dyrn Grav]

​

Dyrn glanced to the footman, his bright eyes hard, as he watched the sentient leave. The face was put to memory, should the avoidant glances provided prove to be the source of rumor or gossip, to which the Guardsman would end immediately. Even if that meant breaking his alias for that servant in particular, but truly Dyrn didn't suspect an issue. Yet, Lady Fortan's frown was caught with a glance, to which the Guardsman narrowed his eyes and considered - as best he could - the implications of what transpired between the other pair. The intricacies of Natasi's culture were still blurry for Dyrn, but if one thing was true, it was that propriety was essential.

The notion of training Lady Fortan was compelling to Dyrn. Not only could be impart his knowledge and experience, to further help his charge protect herself, should the worst happen. But it was also a moment to step from beneath the cover of expectation and decorum, a chance for two sentients from different social status, to meet mutually engaged in physical combat. For someone so versed in that language, the physicality of martial arts, it was like communication beyond words. Whether the Supreme Leader realized or not, in time she would come to recognize Dyrn's movements no matter how small, and have some level of insight into his thought or actions; and he to her. It was an ideal state for a pair who would become so close to know about one another, it could mean the difference of seconds between life or death, with only a shift in stance and a gaze.

It won't happen immediately, or even quickly, but it will happen. In time. With training and familiarity.

As the Guardsman wrapped Lady Fortan's hands and wrists, she mentioned the agility of his hands. Dyrn looked into her eyes, as a smile crossed his lips, before he responded. "I would never lie to you," He said in a low, soft voice. He raised his eyebrows as he added. "And you are far from delicate. You are one of the strongest sentients I know, Natasi, positioned against hardships and difficulties as a leader few even realize or consider." Dyrn finished the wraps, as Lady Fortan tested the tightness. It seemed suitable.

Then he started to circle. She moved well. Clumsily, perhaps, but well. It was not unexpected, given Lady Fortan's lack of martial arts experience, but there was also a good foundation to begin from. The comment Lady Fortan made, about feeling ridiculous, made her thoughts on the situation apparent though the tone was less serious and more whimsical, yet she still put in the effort to do as asked. It was time to start honing, to start sharpening the defensive weapon Lady Fortan would become, and to teach her how to throw a punch properly - because, well, it needed work.

"Feet further apart, your left foot further forward," Said the Guardsman, as he continued to circle. It was something he had done as a child, to be punching air and being judged on it. Now it was his turn to do the same to another, though he shouldn't have admitted to be pleased with who he was able to view. "You have a good posture, your arms are up. Now, when you punch, twist at the hips as you throw your right arm forward, pivot into the spin on your feet. That will give you more power behind the hit. Also keep your left hand raised, held near your head, to protect yourself... you are equally dangerous and vulnerable when attacking."

Dyrn paused, as he watched Lady Fortan closely. He had no doubt she would pick up the instruction quickly and effectively. When Natasi continued to practice the more precise movements along with a punch, Dyrn stepped in to one side and held up his palm again, so she could aim for it.

"Imagine someone's face that you despise, and with your next punch, aim to send your first through their head - or my palm, in this case. Put everything into it!"

He wanted to see what she had hidden inside, he wanted to see her fire, to see the inner power he knew she had...

Natasi Fortan​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi felt herself flush as Dyrn complimented her unseen strength. It would have been hokey if he wasn't so authentic. He wasn't currying favor, nor was he trying to blow smoke up her skirt. There was nothing that he wanted from her, or that she could give him. He had reached the pinnacle of his chosen profession through hard work, determination, talent, and skill. He didn't need to schmooze. It was rather refreshing, Natasi thought, but the realization did make her stomach twist a little when he said something particularly complimentary, whether he knew it to be so or not.

She continued to follow Dyrn's instructions, shifting her body as he asked. She shifted her feet further apart, solidifying her balance, and moved her let foot further forward, giving her a bit more range. His continued instructions were somewhat more nebulous to her. Twist her hips? Pivot into the spin? She felt like he was very patiently and ably instructing her in the use of a tool or machine with which Natasi was not familiar, and of which Natasi was not in possession.

Natasi tried, bless her, she tried, but she had difficulty implementing the instructions that she couldn't quite comprehend, and it began to feel unnatural. Wrong. She stopped and held up her hands. "I'm sorry, Dyrn," she said, turning to him and looking up to meet his gaze. "Can we take a moment? I'm not quite -- I understand the words you're saying... separately. Each of the words, alone, make sense to me. But the way you've put them together?" She shook her head, flexing her hands irritably.

It wasn't common for Natasi to not be good at something to which she had set her mind. It was even less common for her not to understand something. It was, in a word, frustrating. "Could you show me?" she asked. "Maybe if I see what it's supposed to look like, I can put it all together in my head." Natasi stepped off the center of the mat, moving to a sideline position so that she could observe a demonstration. She frowned and considered that this was probably a more efficient method than having him stand behind her to guide her through the motion like a golf pro...

She felt an abrupt sensation of heatt prickling at the hair on the back of her neck. Had it gotten warm in the ballroom all of a sudden?

It's just the exertion.

Dyrn Grav

 

[Dyrn Grav]

​

"It's perfectly okay," Dyrn said as he reached out and grabbed Natasi's wrapped hands, to reassure her, as he gave them a little shake. "Nothing was ever learned in a day, which was worth knowing."

The Guardsman stepped back, and let his hands go to either hip, as he listened to Lady Fortan ask to be shown. It was more than reasonable, and in truth had been the next step, should things have continued to prove difficult to realize for his charge. He did understand though, it was a lot to take on suddenly, especially from an instructor who had lived and breathed combat styles and forms from a young age. Sometimes Dyrn forgot that not everyone had training, so he nodded and smiled.

"I can, there is no shame or embarrassment in not understanding combat lessons," He said simply, as he shook out his shoulders and then fell into a defensive stance. "Martial arts uses a part of the mind that we don't usually use, so it takes time to align those thoughts and impulses with our bodies. You are doing great. A very solid start." He faced Natasi, his eyes on her, as he raised his fists and placed them on either side of his head, but outward toward her a ways. "Defensive stance. Feet apart for balance, knees bent for weight distribution and shifting, arms up and forearms protecting your head. Next, the punch - or strike - I'll do it slowly..."

With a shift, Dyrn pulled back his right arm and rotated his fist upward, tucked close to his body near his ribs, before he slowly began the forward punch with the same arm. He angled his fist toward Natasi, as his shoulders shifted, his hips twisted and his back foot raised onto his toes. At the full extension, he held the position, as he spoke.

"Arm extended, shoulder pushed forward, hips have turned and back foot has pivoted into the punch."

The Guardsman pulled back and returned to the defensive stance, his arm muscles coiling with every movement.

"Quicker this time. Watch as closely as you need to, walk around me if you'd like."

Again, Dyrn went into the punch, this time a tiny bit faster than previous. His body moved forward in a fluid motion, hip and shoulders, arm extended, fist aimed front to his center mass. Whether Natasi moved to look at different angles or not, Dyrn would continue to move through the motions, as his trained body performed the entry-level attack with subconscious understanding. Still, he didn't mind at all, he was more than content to show Lady Fortan the basics, before they advanced further in her training - everybody, no matter who, started at the beginning.

"Strike, twist, pivot."

Dyrn's fist extended again, his whole body shifting and moving.

"Strike, twist, pivot."

He punched faster, this time his fist cutting the air with a whoosh.

"Strike, twist, pivot."

This time, Dyrn threw his punch at full speed and strength - though was mindful of Natasi's position, to avoid hitting her - as his body exploded into motion like a spring that was unlatched. The veins in his arms were visible from the power he had put into the strike, as his hair whipped across his forehead, and his front foot pushed deeply into the mat with the shift in his weight forward.

"Did that help? If you need me to, I can guide you through some of the motions," He said as he looked to Natasi and smiled. He stood up and shook out his hands, as he added. "Martial arts involves a lot of touching. It's part of the process. So, if you need me to shadow your punch to start with, and are comfortable with that, I can."

All Dyrn could think was that, once the pair started grappling lessons, he hoped Natasi wasn't too uncomfortable to get close to him...

Natasi Fortan​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi took Dyrn's reassurances on board, appreciative not for the first time that he was a patient fellow. There was no obligation for him to be, after all. In fact, he was under no obligation for him to train her, or be friendly, or anything like it. He would be well within his rights to show up to work, keep Natasi alive, and not exchange two words with her. It wouldn't make for a terribly pleasant working experience for either one, but it would have sufficed.

"You've got a future in combat training if this 'royal guardsman' thing doesn't work out," Natasi quipped as she stepped aside. Her eyes traced the guardsman's form as he demonstrated what he was trying to get her to do. It was true that their bodies were alike only to the extent that they were humanoid. He was tall, muscular, a powerful build. She was just above average in height, slim, and more statuesque than powerful. Still, their muscle groups should, in theory, work the same way. He could bring more power to the table, but she should be able to replicate the movements.

At his suggestion, she slowly began to circle Dyrn, trying to capture the movements he made to commit them to memory. Somewhere along the way, though, she rather lost sight of what she was supposed to be absorbing. The way the muscles moved, flexed, coiled and uncoiled. The sensation that this inspired in Natasi felt foreign. It was curiosity, true, but also -- she couldn't put her finger on it until all of a sudden she could. Desire, a voice inside her whispered, identifying a sensation she had not felt since... well, if she was being honest, before she was married. Once she identified the sensation, her next impulse was to shut it down.

So deeply, deeply unprofessional, she chided herself. Get a hold of yourself.

She continued to circle Dyrn, her eyes more guarded this time. The last thing she wanted was for Dyrn to catch wind and become uncomfortable. Natasi was a grown woman -- indeterminate age notwithstanding -- so surely she could restrain herself from (there was really no other word for it) ogling her bodyguard. Her mouth was suddenly dry and she had instinctively gone stiff, her back straightening, her head rising. The drawbridge, as it were, went up. She could tell that she was flushed, but hopefully this would be seen as exertion from the exercise.

When he had completed his demonstration and looked over to smile, she cupped her chin, covering her mouth with her fingers. He offered to guide her through the motions, and given the dropping sensation in her stomach, Natasi thought that might be a dangerous plan. "Let me -- " she began, faltering briefly as she tugged her tunic further around her hips. "Let me try it myself first."

She waited for him to vacate the central position on the mat, then took his place. She settled into a defensive state in a reasonably good replication of his early motions. Natasi raised her fists on either side of her head, then carefully began to move herself the way he had showed her. Twist at the hips, foot rising up as she thrust her fist forward, then recoiled her body back to its original position. She wound up her arm and then struck again, punching the air in front of her. She repeated this movement over and over, gaining confidence with repetition.

Natasi didn't stop pummeling the air before her. She didn't dare look at Dyrn. "Am I doing it?" she asked tightly as she tried to control her breathing.

Dyrn Grav

 

[Dyrn Grav]

​

As the pair continued with the training session, it was evident there would be a need for differing styles and methods. Size, reach, weight and physical strength were all factors to consider, though after some more testing and observation Dyrn felt comfortable that he could find a suitable style for Lady Fortan. That notwithstanding, he also wanted to ensure she had some of the basics for self-defense, regardless of physicality. There were certain points on a humanoid body, even aliens truth be told, that when attacked would crumple any sentient; and that was where they would begin, affording Natasi the potential to assess, find and exploit the weak points on a body, so that all other factors were redundant in that moment.

Dyrn looked to Natasi, as his bright eyes caught her change in posture, as though something had happened to surprise her? She looked rigid. There was a moment as the Guardsman glanced away, then his gaze returned, before he went to speak and ask what was wrong. But Lady Fortan stepped forward and tugged at her tunic, given to attempting without his assistance, which he accepted without question. Dyrn stepped to one side, gave way for his charge to assume the central position, then crossed his arms as he waited to see her improvement.

I've no doubt she will be better already, The Guardsman thought to himself. She's as quick as a whip, almost like I can see her mind constantly working behind her deep brown eyes...

The Guardsman refocused, as he watched Natasi begin. Her form was immediately more improved, as she adopted a similar defensive stance, with her arms and hands positioned correctly. Even her feet were placed well, good for forward weight shift. And then she punched - "Good." - Dyrn said without hesitation, as he inclined his head and watched her form. He made sure to pay attention to her feet, to make sure they pivoted as needed, to which they did; then he moved up her long legs, seeing the muscle beneath the tight outfit shifting as she punched; before he looked to her hips and how they twisted... and then her punching arm, which looked acceptable, but could use a minor adjustment--

"When you punch, keep your arm tight to your body, avoid bending your elbow outward," Dyrn said as he stepped forward and pressed against Natasi's elbow as her arm was extended forward. He demonstrated beside her, as he kept his arm straight from side to full punch, then back. "It will keep the power of the hit that way, and not telegraph your attack. You're doing great."

--then he stepped back, and continued to observe. He looked to Natasi's face, her expression of determination, and focal point away from him. He didn't envy whomever Lady Fortan was imagining was on the end of her punches. Then he looked back down to her hips, as she twisted, and the Guardsman felt... well, he felt his breathing deepen, as he stood there arms crossed. It was likely the session, the exercise and exertion, which also resulted in his heart beating deeper in his chest. Was Natasi a little flushed? The training, certainly.

"Yes... you're definitely doing it," Dyrn replied without thinking, and immediately thought about his breathing and worked up state, before he swallowed and clenched his jaw. "That is, you're doing much better. I can see immediate improvement, Natasi."

The Guardsman turned, his gaze dropping to the floor and leaving her, as he cleared his throat. He was training his charge. Helping her have the skills to change a situation for her safety. He needed to focus. Dyrn walked over to the tray of items, as he grabbed a pair of the gloves. He let out a calming breath, as he turned and smiled, before he motioned with his head to the punches she had continued doing.

"Do you feel confident in the movement?" He asked, eyes aimed toward hers, nowhere else. The room felt warm. He gripped the gloves in his hand tightly, his knuckles white, as he continued. "Do you need me to help with any of the... motions, the punching posture?"

Natasi Fortan​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi kept punching. And punching. And punching.

Her pace was steady, her movements forceful, and as she progressed she was beginning to feel quite winded. When Dyrn stepped closer and critiqued her arm position, she watched him, then experimentally tried it his way. It felt different, obviously. Her arm didn't quite know how to do that, but she tried it. It took a few strikes for the muscle memory to overwrite, but eventually it did. She resumed movements, this time keeping her arm close to her body.

Eventually he stepped in again, asking after her confidence level. "It feels good," she said, her voice a little lower than normal, as if she were trying to fit into the martial atmosphere of the training session. Her fingers flexed as she turned to him again. He offered to help with her fighting posture. Her instant impulse was to refuse; the last thing she needed was for Dyrn to notice her -- for lack of a better word -- discomfort. He might take it personally. He might decide it would be unprofessional for them to continue working together. He might decide to replace himself with someone else, to avoid embarrassment for them both.

Maybe that would be for the best.

But Natasi didn't want that. In the brief time they had spent together, Natasi had grown comfortable with Dyrn's presence and was impressed with his dedication, his talents and abilities. His patience, too. It perhaps should not have come as a surprise to find that she found him attractive. Very attractive. Natasi wasn't so shallow as to have her head turned by only a pretty face (and, in this case, body). His demeanor and the qualities she had come to observe factored heavily into it. Besides, she believed she could control herself. And so what if she was attracted to Dyrn? That didn't mean anything except that she was attracted to Dyrn.

After a moment, she realized she had been staring at him blankly; she had not rendered an answer. Smooth, Natasi chided herself. That classic Galidraani poise, I don't think. "Ah," she murmured, then cleared her throat. "Well -- yes, if you see room for improvement. Please." She took up position again, watching him from her peripheral vision. Why the hell were her cheeks still so pink? "Should I keep punching, or -- ?" Natasi's voice fell silent, though she stayed in that loose defensive posture.

Dyrn Grav

 

[Dyrn Grav]

​

Lady Fortan was a quick study, and Dyrn couldn't help but feel a touch of pride at how well she did, as she lived up to his expectations and then some. In some instances, there were instructors who did take a more hands-on approach, but if Dyrn was being honest with himself, he had to admit those were with cases of trainees who were less than subpar. And Natasi was certainly not. Her mind was sharp, her body athletic, and her ability to replicate movement or stance was considerable.

Still.

Dyrn was drawn to her, he had been for a time, and he knew the ballroom wasn't nearly as warm as it had made the pair. It didn't take his eyesight to see the change in Natasi's skin, the blushing. The Guardsman probably was too, he had to concede reluctantly, and while not as obvious, there was a steadily increasing thump in his chest. It was unlike anything Dyrn had experienced, and the realization was like a Force wave, as he understood the reasons Natasi affected him so.

"I would like to help you align your strike," Dyrn said in a low voice, as he stepped around Lady Fortan, and paused. "If I may?"

Natasi seemed acceptant of the offer for closer instruction. With a slow exhale, Dyrn stepped behind Natasi, as he matched her posture and held his chest inches from her back. He reached forward with his right hand and firmly placed his fingers on her elbow. He couldn't help but glance down at Natasi's long neck, the pink skin revealed with her hair up in the ponytail. Despite himself, he caught the scent of her perfume, as he recognized the flowery smell of wildflowers and vanilla - it made him swallow.

Focus.

With a moment to calm himself, he nodded and continued in a low voice.

"Could you punch slowly?" The Guardsman asked, as he followed the movement with his longer arm. He leaned forward, as he gently - but firmly - guided Natasi into the punch. His extended arm showed a more central line through the hand on her arm, and his chest pressed her forward to the precise weight balance he felt she needed. "You always want your opponent in your center of mass. In front of your sternum. And when you punch... aim for that mid-line, do you see?"

Dyrn would only hold the position for as long as Natasi did, he wouldn't force or hold her in place, and would pull back if she wished it. But he hoped she wouldn't. It was... imperative that she learn the strike perfectly, even as he glanced down and saw the color in her cheek near his lower jaw. Everything inside warned him to step back, to revert to his strict training, but he couldn't deny that feeling of closeness and familiarity; it was like they knew each other for longer than they had, and in the months since Dyrn had started to protect Natasi, he had always felt a rush of excitement and anticipation when his duty rotation neared. Those feelings only increased the longer he was around her...

"Good... that's an, hm, excellent strike posture," Dyrn said, as he prepared to step back into the defensive stance with her movements, acting in unison. He couldn't help but smell the wildflowers and vanilla again. "... do you want to try again?"

Natasi Fortan​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi felt herself go stiff when Dyrn took up a position behind her. Her breath caught in her throat as one hand guided her hip, goosebumps rising under the fabric of her sleeve along the path taken by the hand that shepherded her punching arm. She wanted to flinch, but she found herself rooted.

The Supreme Leader wanted to reprimand Grav. It would be the easiest, cleanest, least humiliating way to nip this in the bud. Least humiliating for her, at least. It would probably be wounding to Dyrn. After all, he wasn't doing anything wrong. He wasn't even doing anything that Natasi hadn't specifically asked him to. She took a shaky breath, suddenly inhaling the fresh, almost spicy scent of his cologne, only serving to underline their proximity to one another. Stop it, she chided herself. Stop this immediately.

But then, she thought -- why?

Propriety was important, naturally. Modesty, of course. Self-control, above all else. But why fight a natural feeling?

Because it's unprofessional.

You've seen worse. Besides, who can be professional all the time?​

Because it's technically harassment.

Is it, if he feels the same? Does he? Doesn't he?​

Because you would make it impossible for him to do his job.

It doesn't have to end badly. It doesn't have to...​

Because you could lose the only friend you've made since returning to Dosuun.

She shifted a little, but not much. She maintained the pose, adjusting a little, her foot lifting a little further onto the ball of her foot and her toes. The firm presence of the side of Dyrn's calf and shin met her own calf. He asked her if she wanted to try again, and she made a noise that got stuck in her throat. She turned her head, her nose brushing along his cheek, her lips grazing his jawline. She hesitated; it felt -- intimate. Terrifying. Natural. Invasive. Warm. But she could not spend the rest of her life with her face pressed to Dyrn Grav's cheek. She shifted, circling to her right, pulling her face away slightly so that her eyes could trace the contours of his face, his hair, his mouth.

She stood there for a moment, right hand moving up to gently rest against his cheek where moments ago her nose had brushed past, painfully close to kissing what must have been a shocked royal guardsman, and she didn't know how long it lasted. Natasi leaned forward; her nose nestled against the side of Dyrn's, her lips hovered half a breath from his, and then --

The Supreme Leader took more of a stagger than a step back. "I'm sorry," she breathed as she turned, putting a hand to her mouth. She stood stock-still, almost like a statue, the only movement her eyes and the swing of her ponytail that soon fell silent. Her dark eyes searched his face for signs of -- she couldn't imagine. Shock, offense, anger? "I shouldn't have -- " she began, but stopped, putting a hand to her forehead. Her face was hot. In the metaphorical cold light of day, Natasi felt embarrassed. Not that she had felt something and acted on it, but that she had done so without consideration for what Dyrn felt.

"Dyrn -- Captain Grav," she said plaintively. "I am -- I am sorry."

Dyrn Grav

 

[Dyrn Grav]

​

Within what seemed seconds, the situation had changed from a training session, to an intimate embrace. Or what was as close to one as could be, given the pair's stances in relation to the other. Dyrn was vividly aware of Natasi's lips against his jaw, her nose against his cheek, and it was like his galaxy turned sideways - but in the best possible way, as he felt the palpable moment where things seemed to slow down and it was like the two of them were the only sentients that existed.

Then she reached up, and Dyrn turned into her hand slightly, as he looked down to her. He remained silent, stoic, because he didn't want to betray what he was thinking. He didn't want to make a fool of himself, if it was all just a mistake, if she was testing him, or if he was completely misconstruing what was happening. Maybe it was... well, he didn't know.

What was it?

What was happening?

Could it be that Natasi felt similarly to him?

Dyrn stood there, his eyes half-closed, the touch of Natasi's nose against his, and the warmth of her breath on his lips. He was an internal klaxon of reactions, as his mind and body shouted at him and pulled in two directions simultaneously. One called for him to backed away, to channel his professionalism, while the other urged him to move closer, to give in to what he had been feeling.

Was it an accident? Had she turned too closely without realizing?

Or did she know where she was? How close she was?

No, it... has to be on purpose, at least this moment, Dyrn thought, as seconds felt like days, as every sense he had filled with her. Is it? It is.

The Guardsman could swear he could all but feel Lady Fortan's lips on his, all it would take was the faintest, smallest, most minuscule shift forward and they would be sharing a--

What?

--and then Lady Fortan was gone, as she backed away suddenly and all Dyrn could do was blink in shock. His mouth was open, his bright eyes unsure, as he considered her and watched her back turn away. She uttered an apology, hand over her mouth, before remaining unmoving. No, come back. Despite himself, the Guardsman was stunned. Not because of what might have happened, but because of what didn't. At that moment, when they were so close, he had decided to move that last breath between them; though had he taken too long? Had he been mistaken? Had... she been mistaken?

Did she change her mind?

A hundred thoughts circled in Dyrn's mind, ranging from confusion, shock, sadness and even hope. It was true, his feelings for Natasi had developed beyond what would be considered appropriate for his position, but it had not affected his protection of her. If anything, Dyrn had even more want and need to keep his charge safe. And they had been closer since leaving Dosuun, increasingly so, and it was now a mixture of how he should react himself. The tall man looked over to her, and his mind went quiet - he could see the heat in her cheeks, the uncertainty in her posture, the half-spoken sentences and her dark eyes that looked at him.

She apologized.

Without thinking, without second guessing himself, Dyrn walked across the mats and moved to stand before her. If there wasn't action now, it could ruin what might have been. He shook his head, "No, never apologize to me, you've done nothing wrong," He said in a low tone, barely above a whisper. "I feel... Natasi, I..."

Tell her.

Dyrn stood still, his eyes staring at hers.

Tell her.

Dyrn couldn't be so bold. He couldn't presume. That would go against everything he had been taught to think, had been trained to be, even if he wanted to. So, instead, the Guardsman reached out slowly, and sought her hand that she held before her mouth. His calloused fingers touched hers, as he gently pulled her hand back, guided her palm to his cheek where it had been minutes before.

I can't tell her, not without knowing her thoughts and feelings first. But maybe I can show her?

With the warmth of her hand there on his cheek, his fingers still on the back of her own, Dyrn slowly turned his face until his lips brushed the softness of her skin. And then he gave the faintest movement of his mouth, one that could be believed a kiss, to the ends of Natasi's fingers. It was the boldest he could dare to go, especially if he was wrong about what he thought, about what she felt. He could not be so brazen, so subtly was his only means of imparting his feelings in the tangible confusion they shared, even as his heart thumped like a hovertrain in his chest...

Please understand. Know what I'm feeling.

Dyrn looked into her eyes, his expression hopeful.

Natasi Fortan​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Dark eyes locked to blue-orange ones. The colors were different, the shapes, the features around them. But she felt like she was seeing her emotions mirrored in his eyes: the same attraction, the same indecision, the same hesitation. She watched him for a few moments as the rapid rise and fall of her chest began to slow as she realized that this was not, in fact, a fatal situation. He wasn’t going to kill her. The embarrassment wasn’t going to kill her.

Probably.

Dyrn didn’t seem offended, or appalled, or otherwise worse for wear.

His actions told the story. The way his large hand coiled around her wrist was gentle, even if his fingers were calloused and hers were soft. She stepped closer as he pulled her hand nearer, placed it against his cheek, where it had rested just a few moments before. Now her breathing was getting deeper again, and her cheeks got pinker. She didn’t need the Force to intuit what Dyrn felt. His struggle between what he thought was his duty and what he knew he was feeling. His inability to act, because he was Captain Grav of the Royal Guard and she was Her Majesty the Supreme Leader.

It could easily have been a cliché.

Natasi turned her face up so they could still see each other. She let her thumb brush across the ridge of his cheekbone. “I…” she began quietly, her eyes looking into his, uncertainty clouding them. “I don’t want to get you into trouble,” she whispered, looking to the side briefly. “Or to -- “ Natasi couldn’t find the words; this was becoming increasingly common with Dyrn. “To discredit you. If people thought you achieved what you’ve achieved because -- “ She flushed and “ -- because of our -- friendship.”

The Supreme Leader’s eyes widened as she looked back up to him. “I hope we will not fall out over it, but -- if I am mistaken about -- if you don’t feel the same…” Natasi’s eyebrows lifted; she tried to reason through the situation in real time. “I would hate to offend you, or to make you uncomfortable, or to make you feel as though you must -- “ She fell silent, too embarrassed to finish the sentence. “But you took my hand and put it… there. So I suspect you are not wholly opposed…”

She tilted her head a little and, for the first time in a few moments, smiled. It was a little smile, but it mirrored the hope she thought she saw in Dyrn’s own gaze. Her other hand moved of its own accord, moved over his shoulder, exerting a gentle pressure as she levered herself onto her toes. She angled closer, suspecting that he would not object, and let her lips finally press to his in a soft, almost chaste kiss.

Natasi was in no hurry. There would be plenty of time, if they were both so inclined.

She settled down onto her feet again, released his shoulder and his cheek. She enjoyed a moment of amicable silence before she said, “Please tell me what you’re thinking, Dyrn.”

Dyrn Grav

 

[Dyrn Grav]

​

Dyrn smiled faintly, when Natasi turned to look up at him and her thumb touched his cheekbone, as he listened to her start to speak. He held her gaze, perfectly still, as though he didn't want to move in case she startled and backed away. The words Lady Fortan said made the Guardsman think, whether he had breached any of the protocols of the Royal Guard. He couldn't recall one stating not to care deeply for his charge, though he also admitted there was likely a purposeful disregard for an unspoken expectation. But were emotions ever accused of technicality? Probably not.

The concern for Dyrn's position, his honor, was met with a gentle squeeze of Natasi's wrist, as he listened. He didn't want to interrupt. In his mind, the Guard Captain knew that people would talk, were the relationship between Supreme Leader and her guard revealed, but he rationalized that so long as the truth was known to those in charge it wouldn't prove a concern for him. But that was putting the Bantha before the saddle, since right now there was no label, no category for whatever it was between them... it just simply was.

I'm not concerned about those people, about those who want to discredit me. They already exist.

Natasi continued, she seemed to have come to a decision, though what she said centered around his well-being, about protecting his feelings or reaction. In response, Dyrn remained smiling, as he tried to convey how receptive he was through his eyes, so she wouldn't be interrupted through the steps of processing the situation. There did remain the question of his devotion and loyalty to her, but that was simple to explain away as a concern, since the reality of his position was to remain in service to the Supreme Leader... and Natasi wouldn't be Supreme Leader forever, at least he didn't think so. It just happened to be that the woman he respected, and cared so deeply for, just happened to be the Supreme Leader; and were Lady Fortan to quit office, or leave the position, Dyrn would still serve the next Supreme Leader, while - he hoped - being with Natasi also...

It's still so new, so fresh, it might be something or nothing, Dyrn thought to himself. He tried to reign in his thoughts. Just focus on the now. The details can come later.

And then Natasi smiled, that same smile the Guardsman enjoyed seeing when she was able to be herself, away from it all. Then she was moving toward him. Her hand touched his shoulder, his hand reached out to rest on her hip, unconsciously. And when she tip-toed to reach higher, Dyrn leaned down to meet her; and then they kissed, a soft, perhaps cautious or experimental, but certainly enjoyable kiss. Dyrn wanted to hold it longer, as he felt his body and mind react, a wash of enjoyment went over him, yet Lady Fortan - Natasi - back and looked up to him before she asked what he was thinking...

That was certainly a question.

The Guardsman took a few moments, as he nodded to himself, but maintained eye contact. While he processed, Dyrn wanted Natasi to be very assured that he was perfectly okay, perfectly accepting of what had happened, with no hint of uncertainty on his face at all. Finally, when his mind had caught up, and his mouth wasn't dry, Dyrn began to speak.

"I was trained to be devoted to the Supreme Leader, loyalty above all else," He said slowly, as he inclined his head. His eyes didn't waver. "I learned about you during that time. Studied you, because I needed to understand you. It was my responsibility to begin service with knowledge of how you might act... so, before we had met, I had a deep respect for you. A respect that still remains."

With a exhale, Dyrn smiled again.

"But I want you to know that caring for you... like this... wasn't caused by outside influence. My feelings, as they are for you, have grown since I've had the pleasure of protecting you. I've seen past the training, I've seen the woman you are, when no one else has, and those moments - the real you, away from the public and appearances - are what caused me to care this deeply."

The tall man clenched his jaw, as he prepared for the next part.

"I also understand that this could be, hm, problematic for you, socially. And I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I did anything to put your position, or reputation, in jeopardy. If you tell me - order me - to stop this, I will do as you command." Dyrn stepped forward, as he reached out for Natasi's hand, to feel her touch again. To reassure her. "But I hope, genuinely from myself, that you don't..."

Natasi Fortan​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi's heart thudded painfully in her chest.

He raised a good point, one that in the fog of conflicting emotions Natasi hadn't even considered. It -- whatever it turned out to be -- would be problematic socially. Even more as Sovereign than she ever had been as Grand Moff, Natasi was meant to serve as an exemplar, a model upon which the behaviors of good, upstanding citizens of the First Order could be modeled. She dressed modestly. She acted with propriety. She was gracious and graceful and softspoken and she paid her taxes -- like all good subjects ought. It was one of the reasons that Natasi had criticized Ariel so harshly when she had allowed herself to become a topic of gossip. Whether it was proper or not proper, fair or not fair, she was an example.

The First Order has an unwed mother for Grand Moff, she reminded herself. The empire seems no worse for wear.

Natasi made an internal hm and half-turned, studying the wrapping on her hands as if they were the most fascinating textiles she had ever come across. Don't get ahead of yourself, she admonished herself. Nothing has happened. Only a kiss, if you can even call it that. Nothing else has to happen unless you both agree. It is too soon to fret about that.

While she had been wrapped up in this internal dialogue, Dyrn had taken Natasi's hand. It felt so natural that she didn't notice at first. "I would never order you not to feel something. It is, of course, deeply unprofessional to pursue this kind of -- activity," she said, delicately skirting the word 'relationship'. "But it's me who is being unprofessional." She smiled weakly, her lips turning up at the corners. Nothing you can do will put my position or reputation at risk. My actions, my lack of impulse control, will be the cause of any disgrace on my part."

Natasi looked over at Dyrn and her fingers squeeze around his hand. "I don't know what that is," she said quietly. "Obviously whatever it is it's... the beginning." Her eyebrows furrowed slightly; she was clearly having difficulty putting this into words. As a Galidraani aristocrat, he had been taught to flirt by the best of them, but when it came to coupling, girls of her class typically relied upon their parents to make a match. Natasi had been fortunate -- in some senses -- that she had ended up marrying the man to which she had been betrothed. But Talbot had never courted Natasi; they'd never dated, either in their youth on Galidraan or later. He had approached it like a business venture; a joining of two of the greatest houses on Galidraan. He had never had to attract her, nor she him.

Dyrn was not a Galidraani nobleman. The intricacies of this situation were much different. Their relative statuses had already been a challenge. Regardless of Natasi's view, she was sure there were others out there that would be scandalized by her putting the moves on 'the help' -- a term that Natasi found detestable. There were probably those on Dyrn's side -- military officials and such -- that would view her actions as highly inappropriate. But there were fundamental questions to pursue before worrying about that. Were they -- a couple? Natasi rejected the notion out of hand. They had spent months in each other's pockets and, up until a few moments ago, Natasi could confidently call Dyrn her friend, but they didn't know each other well in that way. She was attracted to him, but she didn't know what to do with that feeling.

Natasi Fortan was not the kind of woman to jump into bed with a man straight away. This attraction she felt to Dyrn Grav didn't change that, and she didn't expect to be so overcome with lust that she disregarded decades of her values. In kissing Dyrn, Natasi has been seeking an emotional connection rather than a sexual one. In fact, just acknowledging that such a thing was a possibility made Natasi's cheeks flame again. Her gaze lowered and she cleared her throat lightly before going on: "You're right that I am in a delicate position, so -- for the time being -- I should like to be discreet. I hope you don't take that as wanting to -- hide you." She brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead, tucking it behind her ear with her free hand.

She took a breath and looked up into Dyrn's gaze once again. "Am I overcomplicating this?" she asked, genuinely wondering what Dyrn's thoughts on the matter were. "Surely we can take some time to get to know one another before they -- " She nodded vaguely to one of the windows which, for purposes of this conversation -- stood in for the entirety of the outside galaxy " -- need to become involved. Before we need to worry what they will think or expect or want or say."

Dyrn Grav

 

[Dyrn Grav]

​

There was a monumental sense of relief, when Natasi she said there would be no orders to forget or otherwise not embrace the feelings he had for her, which gave Dyrn the reassurance he needed that his choice to reciprocate had been appropriate. Granted, there were many implications, unintended side effects and complications, perhaps too many to count initially, but that didn't matter at that moment. When it was suggested their actions might be unprofessional, there was little Dyrn could think of to argue that summation, but - again - that didn't matter at that moment. There was a concern that Natasi believed her own decisions or actions, in response to the present development, might disgrace her; and that was what caused Dyrn to furrow his eyebrows, because he cared more about her reputation than his own...

If she wants me to hide this, to preserve the position she holds and its importance, I will... it doesn't matter, so long as I'm near her.

Dyrn continued to listen, as Natasi mentioned it was the beginning of something, even if they couldn't say what. There was no reason to rush to label things, it had been a single kiss, that was hardly a relationship. Still, the words she spoke made it clear there was more to it than a passing moment for the pair, which made the Guardsman feel more at ease and more ready to share his own thoughts. Once he fully understood what they were, of course. There was also the cultural ramifications, as Dyrn was not completely learned about Natasi's people and their thoughts on relationships but he suspected there were expectations from certain social circles as her own - the richly sort, who had multiple mansions on multiple planets. That was definitely not Dyrn or his family, so he had very little to offer in the way of--

Oh no. Dyrn balked, as he realized another implication. Will people think I'm after her credits?

No, Dyrn knew the truth, so did Natasi. There was no financial or social pursuit, nothing so trivial and materialistic as that, not for him. It was simple: he wanted to be around her, to talk with her, as often as he could. He didn't want anything from Natasi, except her. Credits, mansions, high society functions and expensive starships be damned. Still, through a need to focus, Dyrn brought himself up short in his thoughts and remembered that - as Natasi had said - it was just the beginning, of something, which they didn't know what yet. So there was no benefit to allowing his thoughts to run away with him, as he returned his mind to the beautiful woman in front of him. If they could get through the conversation, without both giving in to the almost overbearing senses of responsibility, Dyrn suspected it would be all right...

"Yes, it's a beginning, I agree," Dyrn said lowly, as he kept hold of Natasi's hand, as he felt her squeeze back. "And I understand. I will say nothing, until you are entirely comfortable and ready. Your position, your importance to a whole region of space and its populace, is far more -- I'm trying to say, discreet is best, yes. I'm not offended or upset by your caution, I assure you, Natasi."

What kind of person would Dyrn be if he only cared for himself? No, he had no delusions about the situation, he knew the gravity of it and how drastically it could effect Natasi, so he would comply with whatever she felt was needed. She was, after all, the diplomat and clearly had the broader social impact of the situation. Again, the Guardsman chided himself for looking beyond the moment, before anything had even been decided on. Thankfully Natasi said exactly what Dyrn wanted to say, and put the situation in perspective and clarity.

"Time to know one another, more closely, before others know," Dyrn repeated, with a nod, as he held her gaze and smiled. He was perfectly fine with that. It made sense. "That is exactly what we should do. Time for us, before others, so we know what this is when we're asked."

There was still something that nagged at Dyrn's mind, which he took a moment to consider, before he slowly asked.

"I... am concerned, when it comes to your lifestyle -- that is, to say, your family and what they've achieved and attained in life -- and the... uh, expectations that might be on you? From your family, from others with social influence... I don't have much, personally," He smiled, though also looked a little concerned. "I suppose I'm asking - am I enough for them? For you?"

Dyrn scowled, in seriousness, as he held Natasi's hand more tightly. He stared into her eyes, sincerely, and spoke.

"I want you to know, to really know, that I am in no way interested in what you have; I want no confusion or suspicion, no matter what they will accuse me of - the obvious, for the media or gossip hounds.

"I only care for you, Natasi."

Natasi Fortan​