• Closed • House Guests

[Damon Andaris]

62 Ashan 717

Damon stood in the middle of his room, staring at his bed. It presented a conundrum, one it usually did not do. Beds were wonderful things, he mused, as he sipped on the wine, a glass in hand. You could sleep in them, rest in them, lounge in them, fuck in them. All manner of wonderful things.

No, the conundrum his bed presented right now was that there was only one of them.

When he had agreed with Malcolm to take in the mysterious woman, Kes'trel, he had been high. He made many decisions while high, part of being a functioning addict, but it had meant he overlooked the very obvious reality of only having one bed and thus needing to share with a stranger. A stranger, he was told, who was in some trouble, and needed to be kept at all costs away from Elyna. Damon had no issue with that. He had many secrets, and keeping them was never too hard, but he had not considered the logistics of this particular case.

Turning, he looked around the rest of the room. He had cleaned well enough, hidden away his drugs (though he was sure the woman would find out about his habits eventually), and thrown out empty wine bottles. It was very presentable, about as presentable as Damon's apartment ever got, but it still did not solve the problem of one bed. He supposed he could sleep on the floor, but that would be uncomfortable. Maybe one of them could sleep over the blankets, and the other under, but then it would be too cold. Damon ran a lightning scarred hand through his hair in frustration, but that was when there was a knock at the door.

Quickly swallowing another gulp of wine, he went to the door after putting his glass down. He glanced at his clothes, noticed a red wine stain and swore under his breath, but it was too late to change. This Kes'trel was getting free accomodation anyway; she'd have to take him as he was. A moment to steel his nerves, and he swung the door open, taking in the woman on the other side.

She was stunning. Freckled, pale, tall, with golden hair. Damon swallowed, thrust a hand forward to shake. "Kes'trel, right?" he asked, shaking her hand if she took his. He stepped back to allow her in. "Come in, come in," he said, watching her survey the room. "I'm, uh, Damon Andaris, but I guess you already know that. I mean, you found the place okay." A pause.

"There's only one bed," he blurted, before closing his eyes in frustration. Of course she knew that. She could see that. He moved to the table, picked up his glass, and drained it of the red wine. Immortals knew he might need a few to get through this awkward meeting.

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[Kes'Trel]

Kes’trel had, by some miracle, found her way to a small village. She’d traded secrets for a meal and a fresh set of clothes. A long sleeved dress that wasn’t splattered with blood. She’d even managed to wash the dirt from her hair before following the road towards the city. It was an amazing place. She’d never seen so many people and she found herself grinning, ear to ear. She’d chosen to travel to Andaris in the hope that it would be easier to get lost in the crowd. Her attempts at finding employment, were harder and after eyeing up the house of roses, she’d been surprised at the name circulating the rumour mill. Malcolm.

The young woman had sought out the Knight who’d freed her. Now, a few trials later he had sent her here. She studied the door, hands held behind her back as she waited. Long hair brushes and hanging down her back as she peered to one side, hoping to peek through the windows. A young man opened the door and she appraised him. Damon Andaris. Malcolm had made her repeat the name back to him. Damon Andaris. He extended a hand and she looked down at his fingers, wriggling in the air. Finally she extended her own hand and touched the tips of her fingers to the tips of his before offering a small smile, confident that she had reacted in an appropriate way. “Kes’trel,” she agreed and her smile spread.

Nobility meant little to the former slave and she extended a cautious smile at the tall man. His hair was dark, thick and luxurious and she wondered if he used products to help it grow. There was an interesting smell that rose from the apartment and she ventured forward, looking around with open curiosity. The bur of old wine hit the back of her throat and she turned back to the young man, frowning as he spoke in a rush. Something bed? Bed? She leant back and studied the rooms once more, noting the bed. She could sleep on the floor, it would be no problem.

“Thank you,” she pushed her hands into the pockets of her dress, “Kes’trel, floor?” She would make no presumption that the man intended to share his bed with her, he was already willing to share his home, though hopefully on a temporary basis. She had a small bag on her shoulder and suddenly turned, producing a fresh loaf of bread and a small selection of cheeses. Peering around the room she spotted what she suspected was a fresh bottle of wine and offered the food towards the handsome Andaris, “hungry? Celebate?” She’d bought the gifts as an offering and to express her gratitude. From the coin she’d managed to scrape together from scraps of jobs they’d been expensive, but not as costly as perhaps another night on the streets might have been.

[Damon Andaris]

His cheeks flamed when she fluttered her fingers against his, an awkward approximation of a handshake. Damon tried not to think about how the tips of his ears were most definitely a bright red as he stepped back and watched her take in the room. It was an unexpected reaction; when Malcolm had told him some homeless girl needed a place to crash for a while, it certainly had never crossed his mind that she would be - well, that she would be so damn cute.

Damon stood in the middle of the room as she explored, like a new kitten testing out a new space. He didn't know what to do with his hands, so he grabbed the wine and drank it, quickly. He almost coughed, but managed to hold it in. Ilaren save me, he thought, I should be a better goddamn drinker than this. It took him a moment to realise she was speaking to him, and then another moment to try and piece together what she was saying. Of course she wouldn't speak fluent Common. Malcolm hadn't mentioned that, but it was silly for him to assume that she would.

"No!" he blurted out, before flushing again. "No," he said, speaking slowly so that she could follow. "I'm not going to make you sleep on the floor. We can just share." It took him a moment to realise that perhaps this strange woman would not want to share a bed with a stranger, so he stumbled over his words again. "Or I can sleep on the floor. But you don't have to. Really." A loud sigh, but thankfully, Kes'trel spoke again.

Her dainty fingers offered some bread and cheese, and Damon noticed her glance towards the wine. He nodded, heading over to grab another glass, before what she said caught up with him. "Celibate? No..." he stuttered, before realising she had meant to say celebrate in her broken Common. "Oh, uh, celebrate. Yes. Yes we can celebrate." Cursing under his breath, he turned to the cupboard, opening it up to grab a second wine glass. Ilaren, he prayed fervently, silently, please grant me some damn chill.

He turned back to the table, but left the cupboard open. If Kes'trel were observant, she would notice in the open cupboard a little bag filled to the brim with a herb - reevi. Still, he paid it no mind, pouring a second glass for him and one for Kes'trel. "Here," he said, offering her the glass, waiting for her to take it. "Ilaren give us good health and a firm friendship." Damon waited for Kes'trel to drink, before doing the same. He took the cheese and the bread, grabbing a knife and a plate, before cutting it up into chunks.

"Sit, if you like," he said, grabbing a seat. "So, Kes'trel... tell me about yourself." And he hated himself for being so damn generic.

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[Kes'Trel]

No, he said. No. No floor? The young woman smiled, mouth pulled in a slight smirk as she lifted a brow. He was happy enough to share a bed with her. She examined the edges of her dress and studied the fabric. Well, it was good to know that men in the city were the same as men in the mountains; their desires mostly simple. Fortunately for the former slave, they seemed to desire her. Was he blushing. The smile turned impish and she lowered her gaze. The back of her neck started to heat a little. He was endearing and obviously embarrassed, so she held her hands behind her back and dropped her gaze.
The young woman continued to explore, without moving her feet far from the centre of the room, peering in at all the corners of the apartment. Her gaze lingering in the open cupboard with curiosity devoid of judgement. She moved forward with light steps and accepted the glass with a smile. He spoke so quick, words tumbling over each other. The frown returned as she struggled to pick out the words. He made a toast and obedient she took a slow sip of the wine, testing the taste on her tongue. She sank onto the offered chair, fanning her skirts as she did so, tucking her feet, one behind the other as she perched with a straight-backed. “Friendship,” she agreed before failing to suppress her smile, “no floor.”
Kes’trel lifted the drink for another sip, taking more of the liquid and reaching for the bread and cheese. Eating with small, delicate bites. He asked something of her and she watched him. What was the question? It was not one that she recognised. What did people ask of each other, when they were not slave and master? Vin had given orders, instructions…demands. What about Kes’trel?
“Tell me about yur’self,” Kes’trel repeated the words back to him and took another careful sip. Hopefully he would answer, and she would be able to interpret his response and provide an answer of her own in kind.

[Damon Andaris]

Damon waited for Kes'trel to take a seat before doing so himself. It was not out of etiquette so much as it was that Damon was trying not to frighten her off. Though judging by her slow smile, she seemed to be pretty comfortable. He flushed as she teased him, reminding him about the floor. Of course. Just because her Common was broken did not mean she wasn't bright, and she seemed to be as sharp as a tack.

Kes'trel ate slowly, and Damon did the same, taking a little of the cheese she had brought and swallowing it in one bite, different to the dainty way that Kes'trel consumed her food, like a bird chipping away at a feeder. He washed it down with the glass of red, swallowing slowly, enjoying the lingering taste and the knowledge that soon enough, it would make him tipsy - and then this whole conversation would be much easier to handle.

But she repeated the words back to him, heavily accented in her phrasing. Damon's brow furrowed for a moment, trying to understand why she had not answered - but oh. Of course. Perhaps she had not understood, or rather was reticent to tell Damon anything. He wanted her to be comfortable, so he spoke slowly, using small words as he might for a child, hoping she understood that he wasn't talking down to her at all. Damon just wanted Kes'trel to feel at home.

"Well, I'm Damon," he began, slowly. "I uh, work with wine. I like wine. I'm pretty boring, really. My father is a Baron, and I have three younger siblings. I've lived in Andaris all my life. And... that's it, really." It was only as he spoke that he realised how boring his life really was. But what could he say? I'm Damon, I like getting high and getting drunk? Sighing, he took another sip of wine, swallowing, before topping up the glass and offering some more to Kes'trel. "Understand?"

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[Kes'Trel]

As he watched her, she watched him in turn. The careful movements and the generous gulps of wine. The young woman matched his larger swigs, not-averse to becoming tipsy herself. Life as a free woman was so far, enjoyable. Difficult, as she was seeking some form of employment. There were so many available jobs in the city, but what were her skills? She could fix up a minor wound or brew a decent poison but what did that mean in a bustling city? Perhaps it was a concern for another time. His easy blushes only made her smile more, butterflies skipping about her in belly. Da-Mon. She repeated the syllables silently.
He seemed surprised by her repetition. Tell me about yourself, she committed the words to memory. It was a way to stall a conversation, or start one? Tell me about yourself. He considered his answer and she watched him. As a slave, her curiosity and attentive nature to small details, had worked in her favour. It had helped her judge the moods of her Masters, creating an allusion of a true relationship, where sometimes demands were not made with verbal cues.
This was a young man who came from a position of power, she observed. Yet he was not powerful. He spoke slowly, the words simple and she studied him, intent. Boring. I am bored, her master used to say. It had been a summons to his bed. I am bored. Boring. I am boring. A surprising revelation for such a young man. Young, but drawn inward instead of outward with his actions. She finished her own drink of wine, studying the taste. Baron. The position of power was his Father’s. What did that mean to the man before her? He seemed to be disappointed with his life. Perhaps the only inflection of excitement came from the mention of wine and she reached out, picked up the bottle and refilled his glass, bright eyes intent on him.
Did she understand? Kes’trel nodded. The young woman understood more than the words she did not understand. She understood his tone, his body language and the defeated nature of his actions. Setting the bottle down, she propped her chin in her hand as she watched him. “Why bored? Why borrr-ing?” The young woman nodded to the wine, “Damon wine? Is good. Good wine, no boring. Good man, no boring.”

[Damon Andaris]

Damon smiled when Kes'trel reached out to refill his glass; perhaps his only true smile of the night. He had not yet been overtaken by the wine - it had not had enough time to permeate his bloodstream - but if they kept drinking at this rate, he would be. Not that Damon had any problem at all with that. He knew he was much easier to talk to when drunk, and so he had learnt that it was simply easier to drink when talking to new people, for all involved.

She leant forward, resting her chin on her hand, and once again Damon was struck by how pretty this girl was. It was strange, that she had dropped into his life unexpectedly, but honestly Kes'trel was nothing like he expected some homeless girl to be. She was smart. Sure, she couldn't speak Common very well, but she was clever, and saw through things. Like recognising how he had only seemed comfortable talking about wine, or, as she now asked him, why he considered himself boring.

Damon sighed, tearing his gaze away from her pretty eyes, picking up the glass again, taking a sip while he pondered her words. "Mmm, yes. Wine is good." A brief smile at Kes'trel. "I'm not necessarily good, either though. I'm just ... Damon." He sighed, taking another piece of cheese. "Why am I boring? Well..." He thought for a moment, chewing on the cheese. "I just do the same thing every day. I go to work, I come home. Maybe I'll go to a bar. Maybe I'll sleep with someone. Maybe I'll drink wine. Otherwise, the same, every day. That's why I'm boring." He shrugged, taking another sip of wine.

Damon just realised how much he had revealed, not intending to open up this much so soon to a strange lady, no matter how disarmingly beautiful and smart she was. "But enough about me," he said. The wine was starting to take effect, and he was becoming less careful with his words - not just the language, but what he revealed. "Tell me about you. I already know you're beautiful and needed somewhere to stay." A blush stained his cheeks realising what he just said, but he didn't take them back. He meant what he said.

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[Kes'Trel]

Kes’trel continued to study the young man. He was handsome in the way that made her tummy tingle and the hairs on the back of her skin to raise. Her fair brows narrowed a little as she focused her attention on him. The slide of wine down his throat and lifted her own glass, thoughtful. He spoke in the same tone, as though he didn’t quite believe what he said. Or perhaps he put too much faith into that belief. Her frown deepened, her thoughts had taken a confusing turn. The former slave could only blame the wine. Perhaps boring was the wrong word to have used. It was more of a sadness that distilled from the man. Not good? Just Damon. Was anyone a ‘just’ person? He was gorgeous with his dark hair and expressive features, loosened with liquor. He seemed to fidget and she took another drink.
He called her beautiful and the compliment took her by surprise. Though perhaps it shouldn’t have been a shock. He’d been watching her, much the same way that she was watching him. Kes’trel, if she would admit it to herself, was a little vain. Confident in her looks and ability to seduce when needed, the young woman still lifted her chin a little, lashes lowering as his flattery landed like an embarrassed caress.
Tell me about yourself. What could she reveal? She’d been a slave and she had run away. The young woman tested the taste of wine on her tongue before draining the glass and standing. She offered a small hand to the man. Not boring, not sad. This was something that she could change.
“Show you?” She offered and wriggled her fingers towards him. She moved towards the door and the falling twilight, “come?”

[Damon Andaris]

Damon could not help but smile as he watched her flush a little. He had not meant to slip up and call her beautiful aloud. He wanted her to feel comfortable in his home, not feel like he was forcing her into anything she would be uncomfortable with, but it was the wine that made him say so. He meant it, though. She was beautiful, in an effortless kind of way. Especially with that blush on her cheeks, either from the wine or the embarrassment, it did not matter. Kes'trel was undoubtedly stunning.

Damon looked up at her suddenly, confused. Show? Show him what? It seemed though like her Common was too simple to ask her to explain, so he just shrugged, drained his wine and put down the glass. "Alright," Damon said, standing and taking her hand. It was small and warm in his larger one, and he stood, bringing her with him. He opened the door, locking it behind him, walking out onto the street.

"Where are we going?" he asked, squeezing her hand in his, but not letting go. It was cold outside, his skin flushed from the warmth of inside and the wine. He pulled himself a little closer to Kes'trel without even thinking. Looking around, he wondered what direction she would take him. He had thought Kes'trel was not even from here, but apparently there was something in Andaris she wanted to show him.

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[Kes'Trel]

Kes’trel was glad when he followed behind her. Her hand felt small in his grip and she curled her fingers around the back of his, holding tight. She rewarded his willingness to indulge her whim, with a bright smile. Following beside his steps with dainty motions of her own she slid her fingers free for a moment when they stepped out into the street. She backed away from him, hands folded behind her back, impish in her expression as she grinned.
“See,” she told him, “see see.” She’d managed to find a spot at the entrance to the crown, where it was possible to see the ocean far below at the docks. Kes’trel didn’t wait to see if Damon would follow before she darted away, moving up the hill towards the crown of the city. It was only further from his door, that she turned back to the young man and reached for his hand again, stepping closer. Confident that he wasn’t simply going to return to his dwelling the young woman stepped closer again. Close enough to feel the heat from his body, rising from his shirt. There was something about being able to hide in the shadow of a tall, strong male that made her heart give a little skip of excitement as they climbed the city streets together.
Finally, she managed to weave her way along the wall of the crown to an alleyway and a staircase that rose directly from it. Kes’trel beckoned Damon to follow her. Her quick steps letting her climb the stairs with ease before she pulled him along the top of the wall. A few steps away from the stairs and they reached a section of the wall overlooking a quieter part of the city. Sleepy noble houses and their expansive gardens stretched out in vast stately manors. Kes’trel put her back to the parapet, the university and the palace and sat on the edge of the wall, letting her legs dangle. Feet brushing against the stone. She patted the stone beside her with a smile and beckoned Damon closer. If he sank to her level, she would fold her fingers beneath his chin and direct his gaze over the noble houses, beyond the normal houses of mid-town, the scramble of low-town and away to the docks and the ocean.
“See,” she whispered against his cheek. “See…I come across see. Big travel, long.”