Post by Eurydice on Apr 4, 2008 16:55:51 GMT -5
((Formerly “Variations on a Theme.” What was posted before is now the first quarter of the entire piece. It has been edited a bit. Also, I can has a new title, due to the fact that Sharky (who is still to blame for all of this, since he’s the one who keeps inadvertently giving me ideas that my muse jumps all over) came up with the idea that these occurrences were actually Maura and Kun subconsciously meeting in Morabrenin. None of the four “themes” are consecutive, nor is there necessarily any continuity from one “theme” to the next.
Posted in two parts.
I know it’s just the same gimmick, over and over, but it was fun to write.
For the record: this never actually happened.
…probably.))
Theme I—
Maura gaped as she recognized the owner of the hand that extended to help her up off the ground in the dark alley. “Kuntaire?”
He was older than she remembered, hair streaked with silver; he too seemed surprised. “Not Maura Mordrellyn? By the Goddess!” He pulled her into an embrace. “And here I thought I was just coming to the aid of some helpless damsel… let me look at you.” He held her out at arms’ length. “Your aura burns even more brightly than it did last time. Truly remarkable.”
She giggled. “And you, sir, got old.” She checked both blades at her side. “Thanks for coming along when you did. We’ve been chasing these stupid bandits for weeks now, and they’ve finally gotten the brains to retaliate. Usually I’d have my apprentice to back me up, but I’m glad you were kind enough to step in.”
Kuntaire smiled. “Apprentice, eh? You’re coming along very well indeed, then.” His face softened. “I’m just glad you haven’t let that fool of a Southern assassin harm you. I did worry about that.”
“Yes, well.” She looked down slightly. “I haven’t seen him since we left Frost Reach.”
An awkward silence hung between them for a moment, and then Maura plunged ahead. “At any rate, how have you been? I suppose it would be too much to ask, to hope that you’ll be staying here a while.”
He shook his head. “Just needed to do some quick research, and then I’m to be swept off again.”
“Pity.” She threw strong arms around him again. “I need to be off, too. Stop by and see me, if you’re through this century again.”
He smiled. “You can depend on it. Take care, Maura.”
He was older than she remembered, hair streaked with silver, his eyes wiser, but his face still bore that pale, ageless beauty that she remembered so well from the night he’d revealed to her who he truly was. His face had shone like the moon, that night.
He too seemed surprised. “Not Maura Mordrellyn? By the Goddess, what a sight for sore eyes!” He pulled her into a gentle embrace. “And here I thought I was just coming to the aid of some helpless damsel… let me look at you.” He held her out at arms’ length. “Your aura burns even more brightly than it did last time, you know. And twice as pretty, to boot. Truly remarkable.”
She giggled and reached out to tousle his long hair. “And you, you flirt, got old.” She checked both blades at her side and dusted herself off, looking around. “Rather handy that you managed to come along when you did. We’ve been chasing these stupid bandits for weeks now, and they’ve finally gotten the brains to retaliate. Usually I’d have my apprentice to back me up, but I’m glad you were kind enough to step in.”
Kuntaire smiled, clasping her arms. “Apprentice, eh? You’re coming along very well indeed, then. Not that I ever expected anything less of you.” His face softened a little. “I’m just glad you haven’t let that fool of a Southern assassin harm you. I did worry about that.”
“Yes, well.” She looked down slightly and shrugged. “I haven’t seen him since we left Frost Reach. They say he’s dead.”
An awkward silence hung between them for a moment. “You know how he meant to harm you, my dear,” he said quietly, not wanting to press the point to hard.
She nodded, still looking a little grim, but resigned to it. “I know. Anyway, how have you been? I suppose it would be too much to ask, to hope that you’ll be staying here a while.”
He shook his head. “I’m here for some quick research. Truly a pity; I should have liked to catch up with you more.”
She nodded sadly, threw her arms around him again, kissed his cheek. “Stop by and see me, if you’re through this century again.”
He smiled and broke off from the embrace to take her hand and gently touch her knuckles to his lips. “You can depend on it. Take care, Maura.”
Kuntaire smiled, clasping her arms. “An apprentice, eh? You’re coming along very well indeed, then. Not that I ever expected anything less of you.” His face softened a little, as did his grip. “I’m just… I’m glad you haven’t let that fool of a Southern assassin hurt you. I did worry about that.”
“Yes, well.” She looked down slightly. “I haven’t seen him since we left Frost Reach. Not even in Morabrenin. And apparently, now, he’s dead. So I suppose he can’t hurt me.”
She felt Kuntaire’s fingers brush her chin, tilting her face up. She smiled sadly. Kuntaire felt so sorry for the girl; he wondered if he had been right in saying that the assassin hadn’t hurt her after all. “I didn’t mean to touch on a sore subject, my dear.”
Maura put on a brave face and nodded. “It’s not a big deal. Anyway, how have you been? I suppose it would be too much to ask, to hope that you’ll be staying here a while.”
He shook his head. “I should have liked to catch up with you more. It seems we’re forever fated to run into each other briefly and then part again. More’s the pity, that.”
“Pity indeed.” She threw her arms around him again.
Arms enfolding her, Kuntaire sighed, his smile buried in her hair. Traveling the oceans of time was glorious, of course, and he would not trade the rare moments shared with his teacher and his goddess for anything, but these moments of brief physical contact were equally wondrous, so rare they were.
Maura kissed his cheek as she pulled back, her arms still playfully looped around him. “Stop by and see me, if you’re through this century again soon.”
Without even meaning to, Kuntaire’s fingers reached up to brush her cheek affectionately. For a brief, absurd moment, he felt a deep, desperate urge to lean forward, take her in his arms again, and kiss her, and Goddess only knew what else, but it was ridiculous of course. They had a certain kinship between them; it wasn’t like that at all. They both had places to be.
And besides, she was Bryant’s daughter.
Kuntaire kissed her on the forehead. “You can depend on it. Take care, Maura.”
He shook his head. “I should have liked to catch up with you more. It seems we’re forever fated to run into each other briefly and then part again. More’s the pity, that.”
“Pity indeed.” She threw her arms around him again.
Arms enfolding her, Kuntaire sighed, a contented smile buried in her tangled, dusty hair. Traveling the oceans of time was glorious, of course, and he would not trade the rare moments shared with his teacher and his goddess for anything, but these moments of brief physical contact were equally wondrous, so rare they were. He had almost forgotten what this was like, the feel of a slender form, soft and strong, clasped in an embrace, the brush of skin against skin, one body warm against another. He wished he could stay longer.
Maura kissed his cheek as she pulled back, her arms still playfully looped around him, although her eyes had not lost some of that strange sadness they had taken on when he’d mentioned the assassin before. She looked at him earnestly. “Stop by and see me, if you’re through this century again soon.”
Kuntaire’s fingers reached up to brush her cheek affectionately. “You can depend on it. Take care, Maura.”
And suddenly, barely even aware of what he was doing, he reached forward, pulled Maura to him, and kissed her. He felt her stiffen in shock, and then breathe, and then relax somewhat, and then, wonder of wonders, he felt her pull him in closer, pressing her face to his with tender, desperate abandon.
It couldn’t possibly be happening, he thought, not here, pressed against some dingy little ally wall, he was barely even sure when and in what time stream, and with Bryant’s daughter, for the love of the Goddess! But he could feel her mouth pressed to his, her fingers at his shirtfront, her hair tangled through his fingers; he could taste her breath, the sweat on her skin, and he could do nothing except hold her, try and find some part of her to keep with him when he left and was alone again. It might be the last time he ever saw her. He found that he couldn’t bear that thought.
He broke of finally, breathlessly, and Kuntaire and Maura stared at each other, not entirely sure what had just happened. Finally, Maura smiled, blushed, and ran off across the darkening streets. He watched her go, more graceful and lovely than he’d ever seen her. Remarkable.
Theme II—
Maura giggled, delighted. In the little room above the inn, the table stood, graced with a silver tray bearing a large, ornate tea pot and settings for two.
Kuntaire smiled and ushered her in. “If I recall, you did always fancy a tea party. Come, come!”
They sat. Kuntaire poured the tea with careful poise and precision, and they sipped the hot, potent liquid while they spoke of their travels and what they had accomplished since they’d seen each other last—Maura listening wide-eyed at Kuntaire’s stories of the witches he’d hunted down, and Kuntaire smiling proudly as Maura spoke of how far the Six had come in the last few years.
At last, Maura stood, knowing she had to go but wishing she might spend just a few more moments with her dear friend. They embraced and bid farewell.
Maura smiled, delighted. In the little room above the inn, the table stood, bearing all the trimmings for a high afternoon tea, with little sandwiches, pastries, and saucers of spreads for the scones. “Do you entertain often?” she laughed.
Kuntaire smiled and ushered her in. “Only the best for you, my dear, and you did always fancy a proper tea party. Come, come!”
They sat. Kuntaire poured while Maura looked over the silver platter of edibles with a happily greedy eye. They sipped the tea, hot and potent, and nibbled on delicate cakes. Maura listened, wide-eyed, to Kuntaire’s troubles in hunting down the witches, and Kuntaire smiled and nodded approvingly as Maura spoke of the Six, rapidly growing in renown over the past two years.
They finished off the refreshments long before they finished catching up. “I can’t believe you got all this finery together,” Maura smiled, swirling the dregs of her last drink around the bottom of her teacup.
“The innkeeper downstairs owes me a favor.” Kuntaire watched her curiously. “Are you going to look for your fortune in that?” he asked, pointing to the cup.
“Well…” She shrugged. “Cora taught me how—or rather, she taught me how it’s supposed to work.” With one twist, Maura upended the cup gently over her saucer, let it sit there a moment, and then turned it right-side up again. She brought the cup over to Kuntaire, and they huddled over it as Maura pointed. “So, in theory, here is closer to the present, and that’s farther in the future. And after that, it’s basically just looking for shapes and signs. They have proper meanings, I think, but it pretty much works just as well to go with your gut.” She rotated the cup slowly. “I hardly ever see anything,” she added, “but Cora can always find something interesting—angels, masks, stars and moons, all sorts of things.”
They peered for some time, in vain. At last, Maura stood, knowing she had to go. “I’m sorry. I wish I could stay longer.”
“Until I see you again, then, whenever that may be.” Kuntaire embraced her warmly.
Maura gasped, delighted. In the little room above the inn, the table stood, bearing a full dinner with more courses than she could count. “Dark fire!” she laughed. “Do you entertain lady-friends here often, then?”
Kuntaire smiled and ushered her in. “Only you, my dear, and only the best for old friends. Come, come!”
She sat. Kuntaire brought some of the dishes over to her, describing each one in ridiculous detail until she laughed and picked a few for him to serve her, and then he too sat. There was wine as well, a generous glassful for each of them, and the two of them sipped it as they ate and spoke of their travels, what they had accomplished since they’d seen each other last. After that was sufficiently tucked away, there was dessert as well, a tray of little pastries and tea. “You did always fancy a tea party, didn’t you my dear?” Kuntaire asked with a twinkle in his eye, and Maura nodded, smiling, a little giddy from the wine.
He watched her curiously as, after she finished her tea, she swirled the dregs. “Are you going to look for your fortune in that?”
Maura chuckled. “Cora did teach me how—or how to in theory, anyway. I hardly ever find anything. Let’s have a look.”
They huddled over the cup and peered, pointing and saying how that cluster of leaves looked like a flower, or that this one looked more like an “x” than an angel, but they could find nothing conclusive and eventually gave up.
Kuntaire then beckoned her over to the room’s little sitting area, where he brought out some old books of runes from ages ago, which he had taken back to show her. Maura recognized a few here and there, although she hadn’t looked at the little book her father had given her in what felt like ages, now.
After some hours at study together, Kuntaire broke off from a lengthy explanation to find that the girl had unobtrusively fallen asleep against his shoulder. Looking outside, he realized it was far later than he had realized, and the evening’s enjoyment was at an end. He smiled quietly, listening to her breath come and go in little sighs, before gently shaking her awake. “Maura.”
She started. “Mmm? Oh…” She blushed. “I’m sorry… where did I nod off?”
“No matter, my dear. It’s late, and you should sleep.”
Maura nodded, rubbing bleary eyes, and stood to go. “Wish I could stay longer.”
Kuntaire embraced her. “We’ll continue when I see you again, whenever that may be.”
Maura gasped, delighted. In the little room above the inn, the table stood, bearing a full dinner with more courses than she could count, all of their aromas reaching out and beckoning here to come and eat. A tall, fancy bottle of wine stood on a little side table, and she could see from the label that it must be something rare. “Dark fire!” she laughed. “Do you entertain lady-friends here often, then?”
Kuntaire smiled and ushered her in. “Only you, my dear, and only the best for old friends. The innkeeper downstairs owes me a favor, and who better to spend it on? Come, come!”
She sat. Kuntaire poured a glass for her. “A special gift, borrowed from some two thousand years ago,” he said, gesturing with the bottle. “I think you’ll like it.”
She did indeed—it went down smooth as silk. Without ceremony, they sat, ate and drank, regaled each other with stories of their travels, what they’d been up to since they’d seen each other last. The excellent food was finished long before they were, as was the wine. “Dessert?” Kuntaire offered, carefully stacking the dishes on a little cart by the door.
Maura shook her head, gesturing for no more. “Not a chance; I’m never eating again.”
Kuntaire nodded and beckoned her over to the room’s little sitting area, where he brought out some old books of runes from ages ago, which he had taken back to show her. Both of them were a little muddled with the wine, and Maura wasn’t much use with runes even when she was focused on the matter. Kuntaire kept playfully swatting at her with the little books, telling her to pay attention, and she would giggle and rest her head against his shoulder as he explained, until she grew restless again and the whole process started over.
Finally, Maura snatched up all four of the books that he had brought. “Can’t make me pay attention now!” Kuntaire gave a shout of protest, thrust both arms around her to restrain her, but she scrambled away, giggling wildly, dodging the benign spells that he threw after her in mock outrage.
She only made it to the wall at the far side of the room before he pinned her and forced her to surrender what she’d stolen.
And then.
Well, there was no saying what happened then. He was pinning her against the wall, the books scattered at her feet, and both of their heads were swimming a little; her laughter rang in his ears like music. His heart pounded hard against his chest, a heart happy at its fullest, to share such a stupid, wonderful moment with such a dear friend.
And then.
There was no knowing how or when it started. It was shortly after their laughs had faded, and they stood there saying nothing, breathing heavily, grinning foolishly. Something in her face softened, and something in his demeanor changed.
And then. His arms were around her waist, and then her hands were at his shoulders, chest, the small of his back, and then their lips slowly swept together, first as tentative curiosity, then hesitant affirmation, then slow, certain joy. He drank it in, the feel of her skin on his arms and face, and her fingers gently, uncertainly, but unhesitatingly ran over his body. His head was full of only her as he held her carefully, clumsily, devoid of practice, but with all the surety of needing to go on.
He saw Maura break off and, her hands gripping his arms, take a hesitant step towards the bed.
Some far-away part of him was trying to say that maybe neither of them was in the right frame of mind to go forward with something like this just now, that maybe they should slow down for a moment, but the rest of Kuntaire knew only how right this felt, how strange but right it was that they should be together, here, now, just as they were, and as he followed her, brushing her burning face with a dozen kisses, he wondered how that fool of a Southerner had ever let Maura go.
Maura pushed back onto the bed and drew him down beside her.
Posted in two parts.
I know it’s just the same gimmick, over and over, but it was fun to write.
For the record: this never actually happened.
…probably.))
A Dream Suite for Maura and Kuntaire
in a series of themes and variations
in a series of themes and variations
Theme I—
Maura gaped as she recognized the owner of the hand that extended to help her up off the ground in the dark alley. “Kuntaire?”
He was older than she remembered, hair streaked with silver; he too seemed surprised. “Not Maura Mordrellyn? By the Goddess!” He pulled her into an embrace. “And here I thought I was just coming to the aid of some helpless damsel… let me look at you.” He held her out at arms’ length. “Your aura burns even more brightly than it did last time. Truly remarkable.”
She giggled. “And you, sir, got old.” She checked both blades at her side. “Thanks for coming along when you did. We’ve been chasing these stupid bandits for weeks now, and they’ve finally gotten the brains to retaliate. Usually I’d have my apprentice to back me up, but I’m glad you were kind enough to step in.”
Kuntaire smiled. “Apprentice, eh? You’re coming along very well indeed, then.” His face softened. “I’m just glad you haven’t let that fool of a Southern assassin harm you. I did worry about that.”
“Yes, well.” She looked down slightly. “I haven’t seen him since we left Frost Reach.”
An awkward silence hung between them for a moment, and then Maura plunged ahead. “At any rate, how have you been? I suppose it would be too much to ask, to hope that you’ll be staying here a while.”
He shook his head. “Just needed to do some quick research, and then I’m to be swept off again.”
“Pity.” She threw strong arms around him again. “I need to be off, too. Stop by and see me, if you’re through this century again.”
He smiled. “You can depend on it. Take care, Maura.”
***
He was older than she remembered, hair streaked with silver, his eyes wiser, but his face still bore that pale, ageless beauty that she remembered so well from the night he’d revealed to her who he truly was. His face had shone like the moon, that night.
He too seemed surprised. “Not Maura Mordrellyn? By the Goddess, what a sight for sore eyes!” He pulled her into a gentle embrace. “And here I thought I was just coming to the aid of some helpless damsel… let me look at you.” He held her out at arms’ length. “Your aura burns even more brightly than it did last time, you know. And twice as pretty, to boot. Truly remarkable.”
She giggled and reached out to tousle his long hair. “And you, you flirt, got old.” She checked both blades at her side and dusted herself off, looking around. “Rather handy that you managed to come along when you did. We’ve been chasing these stupid bandits for weeks now, and they’ve finally gotten the brains to retaliate. Usually I’d have my apprentice to back me up, but I’m glad you were kind enough to step in.”
Kuntaire smiled, clasping her arms. “Apprentice, eh? You’re coming along very well indeed, then. Not that I ever expected anything less of you.” His face softened a little. “I’m just glad you haven’t let that fool of a Southern assassin harm you. I did worry about that.”
“Yes, well.” She looked down slightly and shrugged. “I haven’t seen him since we left Frost Reach. They say he’s dead.”
An awkward silence hung between them for a moment. “You know how he meant to harm you, my dear,” he said quietly, not wanting to press the point to hard.
She nodded, still looking a little grim, but resigned to it. “I know. Anyway, how have you been? I suppose it would be too much to ask, to hope that you’ll be staying here a while.”
He shook his head. “I’m here for some quick research. Truly a pity; I should have liked to catch up with you more.”
She nodded sadly, threw her arms around him again, kissed his cheek. “Stop by and see me, if you’re through this century again.”
He smiled and broke off from the embrace to take her hand and gently touch her knuckles to his lips. “You can depend on it. Take care, Maura.”
***
Kuntaire smiled, clasping her arms. “An apprentice, eh? You’re coming along very well indeed, then. Not that I ever expected anything less of you.” His face softened a little, as did his grip. “I’m just… I’m glad you haven’t let that fool of a Southern assassin hurt you. I did worry about that.”
“Yes, well.” She looked down slightly. “I haven’t seen him since we left Frost Reach. Not even in Morabrenin. And apparently, now, he’s dead. So I suppose he can’t hurt me.”
She felt Kuntaire’s fingers brush her chin, tilting her face up. She smiled sadly. Kuntaire felt so sorry for the girl; he wondered if he had been right in saying that the assassin hadn’t hurt her after all. “I didn’t mean to touch on a sore subject, my dear.”
Maura put on a brave face and nodded. “It’s not a big deal. Anyway, how have you been? I suppose it would be too much to ask, to hope that you’ll be staying here a while.”
He shook his head. “I should have liked to catch up with you more. It seems we’re forever fated to run into each other briefly and then part again. More’s the pity, that.”
“Pity indeed.” She threw her arms around him again.
Arms enfolding her, Kuntaire sighed, his smile buried in her hair. Traveling the oceans of time was glorious, of course, and he would not trade the rare moments shared with his teacher and his goddess for anything, but these moments of brief physical contact were equally wondrous, so rare they were.
Maura kissed his cheek as she pulled back, her arms still playfully looped around him. “Stop by and see me, if you’re through this century again soon.”
Without even meaning to, Kuntaire’s fingers reached up to brush her cheek affectionately. For a brief, absurd moment, he felt a deep, desperate urge to lean forward, take her in his arms again, and kiss her, and Goddess only knew what else, but it was ridiculous of course. They had a certain kinship between them; it wasn’t like that at all. They both had places to be.
And besides, she was Bryant’s daughter.
Kuntaire kissed her on the forehead. “You can depend on it. Take care, Maura.”
***
He shook his head. “I should have liked to catch up with you more. It seems we’re forever fated to run into each other briefly and then part again. More’s the pity, that.”
“Pity indeed.” She threw her arms around him again.
Arms enfolding her, Kuntaire sighed, a contented smile buried in her tangled, dusty hair. Traveling the oceans of time was glorious, of course, and he would not trade the rare moments shared with his teacher and his goddess for anything, but these moments of brief physical contact were equally wondrous, so rare they were. He had almost forgotten what this was like, the feel of a slender form, soft and strong, clasped in an embrace, the brush of skin against skin, one body warm against another. He wished he could stay longer.
Maura kissed his cheek as she pulled back, her arms still playfully looped around him, although her eyes had not lost some of that strange sadness they had taken on when he’d mentioned the assassin before. She looked at him earnestly. “Stop by and see me, if you’re through this century again soon.”
Kuntaire’s fingers reached up to brush her cheek affectionately. “You can depend on it. Take care, Maura.”
And suddenly, barely even aware of what he was doing, he reached forward, pulled Maura to him, and kissed her. He felt her stiffen in shock, and then breathe, and then relax somewhat, and then, wonder of wonders, he felt her pull him in closer, pressing her face to his with tender, desperate abandon.
It couldn’t possibly be happening, he thought, not here, pressed against some dingy little ally wall, he was barely even sure when and in what time stream, and with Bryant’s daughter, for the love of the Goddess! But he could feel her mouth pressed to his, her fingers at his shirtfront, her hair tangled through his fingers; he could taste her breath, the sweat on her skin, and he could do nothing except hold her, try and find some part of her to keep with him when he left and was alone again. It might be the last time he ever saw her. He found that he couldn’t bear that thought.
He broke of finally, breathlessly, and Kuntaire and Maura stared at each other, not entirely sure what had just happened. Finally, Maura smiled, blushed, and ran off across the darkening streets. He watched her go, more graceful and lovely than he’d ever seen her. Remarkable.
Theme II—
Maura giggled, delighted. In the little room above the inn, the table stood, graced with a silver tray bearing a large, ornate tea pot and settings for two.
Kuntaire smiled and ushered her in. “If I recall, you did always fancy a tea party. Come, come!”
They sat. Kuntaire poured the tea with careful poise and precision, and they sipped the hot, potent liquid while they spoke of their travels and what they had accomplished since they’d seen each other last—Maura listening wide-eyed at Kuntaire’s stories of the witches he’d hunted down, and Kuntaire smiling proudly as Maura spoke of how far the Six had come in the last few years.
At last, Maura stood, knowing she had to go but wishing she might spend just a few more moments with her dear friend. They embraced and bid farewell.
***
Maura smiled, delighted. In the little room above the inn, the table stood, bearing all the trimmings for a high afternoon tea, with little sandwiches, pastries, and saucers of spreads for the scones. “Do you entertain often?” she laughed.
Kuntaire smiled and ushered her in. “Only the best for you, my dear, and you did always fancy a proper tea party. Come, come!”
They sat. Kuntaire poured while Maura looked over the silver platter of edibles with a happily greedy eye. They sipped the tea, hot and potent, and nibbled on delicate cakes. Maura listened, wide-eyed, to Kuntaire’s troubles in hunting down the witches, and Kuntaire smiled and nodded approvingly as Maura spoke of the Six, rapidly growing in renown over the past two years.
They finished off the refreshments long before they finished catching up. “I can’t believe you got all this finery together,” Maura smiled, swirling the dregs of her last drink around the bottom of her teacup.
“The innkeeper downstairs owes me a favor.” Kuntaire watched her curiously. “Are you going to look for your fortune in that?” he asked, pointing to the cup.
“Well…” She shrugged. “Cora taught me how—or rather, she taught me how it’s supposed to work.” With one twist, Maura upended the cup gently over her saucer, let it sit there a moment, and then turned it right-side up again. She brought the cup over to Kuntaire, and they huddled over it as Maura pointed. “So, in theory, here is closer to the present, and that’s farther in the future. And after that, it’s basically just looking for shapes and signs. They have proper meanings, I think, but it pretty much works just as well to go with your gut.” She rotated the cup slowly. “I hardly ever see anything,” she added, “but Cora can always find something interesting—angels, masks, stars and moons, all sorts of things.”
They peered for some time, in vain. At last, Maura stood, knowing she had to go. “I’m sorry. I wish I could stay longer.”
“Until I see you again, then, whenever that may be.” Kuntaire embraced her warmly.
***
Maura gasped, delighted. In the little room above the inn, the table stood, bearing a full dinner with more courses than she could count. “Dark fire!” she laughed. “Do you entertain lady-friends here often, then?”
Kuntaire smiled and ushered her in. “Only you, my dear, and only the best for old friends. Come, come!”
She sat. Kuntaire brought some of the dishes over to her, describing each one in ridiculous detail until she laughed and picked a few for him to serve her, and then he too sat. There was wine as well, a generous glassful for each of them, and the two of them sipped it as they ate and spoke of their travels, what they had accomplished since they’d seen each other last. After that was sufficiently tucked away, there was dessert as well, a tray of little pastries and tea. “You did always fancy a tea party, didn’t you my dear?” Kuntaire asked with a twinkle in his eye, and Maura nodded, smiling, a little giddy from the wine.
He watched her curiously as, after she finished her tea, she swirled the dregs. “Are you going to look for your fortune in that?”
Maura chuckled. “Cora did teach me how—or how to in theory, anyway. I hardly ever find anything. Let’s have a look.”
They huddled over the cup and peered, pointing and saying how that cluster of leaves looked like a flower, or that this one looked more like an “x” than an angel, but they could find nothing conclusive and eventually gave up.
Kuntaire then beckoned her over to the room’s little sitting area, where he brought out some old books of runes from ages ago, which he had taken back to show her. Maura recognized a few here and there, although she hadn’t looked at the little book her father had given her in what felt like ages, now.
After some hours at study together, Kuntaire broke off from a lengthy explanation to find that the girl had unobtrusively fallen asleep against his shoulder. Looking outside, he realized it was far later than he had realized, and the evening’s enjoyment was at an end. He smiled quietly, listening to her breath come and go in little sighs, before gently shaking her awake. “Maura.”
She started. “Mmm? Oh…” She blushed. “I’m sorry… where did I nod off?”
“No matter, my dear. It’s late, and you should sleep.”
Maura nodded, rubbing bleary eyes, and stood to go. “Wish I could stay longer.”
Kuntaire embraced her. “We’ll continue when I see you again, whenever that may be.”
***
Maura gasped, delighted. In the little room above the inn, the table stood, bearing a full dinner with more courses than she could count, all of their aromas reaching out and beckoning here to come and eat. A tall, fancy bottle of wine stood on a little side table, and she could see from the label that it must be something rare. “Dark fire!” she laughed. “Do you entertain lady-friends here often, then?”
Kuntaire smiled and ushered her in. “Only you, my dear, and only the best for old friends. The innkeeper downstairs owes me a favor, and who better to spend it on? Come, come!”
She sat. Kuntaire poured a glass for her. “A special gift, borrowed from some two thousand years ago,” he said, gesturing with the bottle. “I think you’ll like it.”
She did indeed—it went down smooth as silk. Without ceremony, they sat, ate and drank, regaled each other with stories of their travels, what they’d been up to since they’d seen each other last. The excellent food was finished long before they were, as was the wine. “Dessert?” Kuntaire offered, carefully stacking the dishes on a little cart by the door.
Maura shook her head, gesturing for no more. “Not a chance; I’m never eating again.”
Kuntaire nodded and beckoned her over to the room’s little sitting area, where he brought out some old books of runes from ages ago, which he had taken back to show her. Both of them were a little muddled with the wine, and Maura wasn’t much use with runes even when she was focused on the matter. Kuntaire kept playfully swatting at her with the little books, telling her to pay attention, and she would giggle and rest her head against his shoulder as he explained, until she grew restless again and the whole process started over.
Finally, Maura snatched up all four of the books that he had brought. “Can’t make me pay attention now!” Kuntaire gave a shout of protest, thrust both arms around her to restrain her, but she scrambled away, giggling wildly, dodging the benign spells that he threw after her in mock outrage.
She only made it to the wall at the far side of the room before he pinned her and forced her to surrender what she’d stolen.
And then.
Well, there was no saying what happened then. He was pinning her against the wall, the books scattered at her feet, and both of their heads were swimming a little; her laughter rang in his ears like music. His heart pounded hard against his chest, a heart happy at its fullest, to share such a stupid, wonderful moment with such a dear friend.
And then.
There was no knowing how or when it started. It was shortly after their laughs had faded, and they stood there saying nothing, breathing heavily, grinning foolishly. Something in her face softened, and something in his demeanor changed.
And then. His arms were around her waist, and then her hands were at his shoulders, chest, the small of his back, and then their lips slowly swept together, first as tentative curiosity, then hesitant affirmation, then slow, certain joy. He drank it in, the feel of her skin on his arms and face, and her fingers gently, uncertainly, but unhesitatingly ran over his body. His head was full of only her as he held her carefully, clumsily, devoid of practice, but with all the surety of needing to go on.
He saw Maura break off and, her hands gripping his arms, take a hesitant step towards the bed.
Some far-away part of him was trying to say that maybe neither of them was in the right frame of mind to go forward with something like this just now, that maybe they should slow down for a moment, but the rest of Kuntaire knew only how right this felt, how strange but right it was that they should be together, here, now, just as they were, and as he followed her, brushing her burning face with a dozen kisses, he wondered how that fool of a Southerner had ever let Maura go.
Maura pushed back onto the bed and drew him down beside her.
