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A naive Black Jeweled witch has destroyed the Territory Court. From its ashes a new court is being constructed, one run by a manipulative killer. As the blood runs in the streets of Goth from open gang warfare, the Steward of Little Terreille begins a gambit to rebuild the Territory from the ground up and challenge the Star of Kaeleer.
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Author Topic: Nothing Pancakes Can't Cure  (Read 447 times)

Description: attn: Rayne

Offline Merihem Striker

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Nothing Pancakes Can't Cure
« on: Nov 07, 18, 08:56:59 PM »
The last three months had flown by… skipped by… meandered through while singing the opera?

Three months were nothing, right? Or at least, Moe hadn’t really noticed their passing until Lizzy mentioned something about it being fall and he looked out his office window and realized that almost a full season had passed since the last time he had spent significant time outside.

Oops.

Right… short lived territory. A year meant something and that would explain how prickly Odelle had gotten sometimes when she only saw him once every week or two and why Liz had rolled her eyes when he had complained about the foot tall stack of late paperwork in his office.

The thing was that he had been busy. There was the matter of the poisoning, and then doing background checks on the last few members of the staff, but mostly….

Mostly he just couldn’t work out the code in the fucking letters.

They had started arriving three months before, one after the other on a schedule of days that he had finally figure out was part one of the cipher of random fucking letters and numbers contained within.

He could have just thrown them out, perhaps should have, but Merihem Striker had always had a problem with things that didn’t make sense.

Puzzles were made to be solved.

Cyphers were meant to be cracked.

And not being able to made Moe want to shred things. Or maybe kill things… he wasn’t sure which meant there was a simple solution: both.

Mostly, though, he wanted to find whoever had been sending him the fucking letters and pull their fingernails off one at a time until they told him who they were and why the were toying with him. Then, if that answer wasn’t entirely satisfying he would start at their feet and-

An alarm clock going off at an ear-splitting volume two feet from his head started the Warlord prince out of his bloody contemplation. He blinked and glanced at it, then blinked again.

Wait, he had worked through the night again?

Well fuck.

What day was it?

Well...

Ah…

With a growl, Moe pushed his chair out from his desk and turned the alarm off with Craft. He stomped his to the door, out into the underground hallway, and waved off Lizbet as she approached looking far too cheerful for this early in the morning.

“I need a shower.”

“Yes you do.” She replied, wrinkling her nose. He scowled and didn’t speak again until he had gone up to his house (a little removed from the main building of the school), scrubbed the dirt of an unknown number of days obsessing over these fucking letters off his body, changed into a suit that would have been perfectly normal had it not been pink and white polka-dots, and walked into town.

It was Saturday, it turned out. With no classes he was free to go up to the Seat and there was a witch up there he needed to apologize for becaus he was 93% sure he had promised her he’d be up for a visit the night before.

Fucking letters. Fucking puzzle. Fucking… wildflowers?

Yes!

Those were definitely wildflowers, growing a bit late in the season but still lovely. He stopped to pick a bouquet, then at the small shop near the edge of the school grounds for a few other things before he made his way to the Seat. The guards didn’t halt his progress anymore. In fact, they opened the gates for him before he so much as opened his mouth because they were learning.

People who got in his way usually learned quickly.

Oh, he hadn't hurt them. He had just spent a whole day talking at them non-stop until they begged him never to talk to them again. Now they made sure not to make eye contact just in case Moe felt chatty.

“Good mornin’” He said, tipping an imaginary hat at them. They looked nervous and he laughed a little maniacally as he walked through, wiggling his fingers at them behind his back as he sauntered into the building.

The path to Rayne’s suite was second nature by now. He let himself in, her wards giving way to his presence and set the small bag on the table. On tiptoes, the Warlord Prince snuck into her bedroom to lay the bouquet on the pillow beside her and take a moment to just sigh in pleasure, then he returned to the important matter of making his Lady breakfast.

By the time she woke he had his shirt sleeves rolled up past the elbow and was making pancakes over the small burner she usually used for her Widow brews. Versatile tool, that. There were pears and apples cut up on a plate on the table, fresh juice and coffee in glasses nearby, and a small bowl of whipped cream sitting by it all.

“Good morning, my darling. Coffee?”



Offline Rayne Callis

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Re: Nothing Pancakes Can't Cure
« Reply #1 on: Nov 15, 18, 07:45:36 PM »
Rayne awoke to the smell of something cooking. This was both a pleasing way to begin her morning and also irritating. Pleasing, because whatever was being made smelled quite good and was stirring her hunger from wherever she'd forgotten it the night before. Irritating, because she had been sleeping and now she was a wake - and Rayne Callis wasn't really a witch that you wanted to be the one to wake, nor interact with before she'd had her morning coffee.

So there was a growl rumbling in her throat as she pulled her long silken robe about her petite form, a tired scowl to match the sound on her lips. Her hair was mussed with sleep and her eyes weren't really fully open, but it wasn't especially clear straightaway whether it was because she wasn't completely awake or because she was also glaring to complete the set of growl, scowl, and glare. Though as she pauses at the doorway she seemed to make the decision for herself and committed more fully to the pointed glare, letting her irritation and displeasure take the forefront as she cleanly pushed the enticing aroma of the breakfast to the periphery of her attention.

"Look who decided to show up." Her voice was dry. Completely flat. Her stare lingered on him for a long moment then flicked to the coffee. There was a few heavy seconds where she debated ignoring the cup sitting out for her to make another. It would be a nice job at her absentee lover who cancelled plans on her without the courtesy of telling her, or more likely forgot about them to begin with. She'd had a shitty day yesterday, and she'd fully been looking forward to seeing More. She'd wanted to take him to bed, then cuddle, then drink wine and the day had even been awful enough that she had rather even been looking forward to the fussing, to being taken care of and being so obviously cared about.

Of course, then he'd neglected to show up.

Her shoulders we're stiff and angry as her need for coffee outweighed her desire to be Petty and she took up the cup, turning to lean against the counter as she sipped.

At least he knew how to make it the way she liked it.

Offline Merihem Striker

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Re: Nothing Pancakes Can't Cure
« Reply #2 on: Nov 15, 18, 08:09:41 PM »
She had her fur up like a cat whose tail you pulled. Moe knew he deserved it -one did not stand up a witch like Rayne Callis with no consequences- but acting like he knew it? Well, one did not look repentant when one was a Warlord Prince like Merihem Striker.

So when she walked in he just turned, leaning his hip against the workbench which was now much too short for him because he had fixed it up for her, and took in the glory that was this amazing woman before coffee. If only he could bottle that scowl to use on the children at his school. Would that he could capture the mess that was her hair and hang it in his office as abstract art. And the biting tone in her voice? It was like one of those discordant pieces of music avantgarde composers performed in the music halls of Dhemlan.  Yes, Rayne was a terrifying work of art and Moe was 12% sure he was not about to get roasted by witchfire for thinking so.

At least she took the coffee.

When she went to lean against the counter -not within reach much to his irritation- Moe returned to flipping pancakes. They were dotted with walnuts and chunks of caramelized apples and he used just a touch of White Craft to waft the smell towards the angry witchling.

"Time is an illusion, didn't you hear?" He replied loftily, before glancing up at her and letting the goofy act drop for a moment. "I'm sorry, Rayne. I got caught up in something and lost track of... I think three days. I have no adequate excuse and I hope you'll forgive me. I can't promise it will never happen again but I'm going to take steps to minimize the risk." As soon as he got back to the school he was going to tell Vevina to come bother him every twelve hours on the dot and remind him to check his calendar. If anyone could keep a fanatical schedule it was the strange Black Widow from Scelt.

Moe pulled the pancakes off the griddle and poured on a new batch, then stepped closer to her. Mindful of her teeth, he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her into a long and slow kiss. Her mouth tasted of coffee and was just as sweet as the first time he had kissed her. She was a drug he didn't want to quit and he very much hoped that he hadn't just fucked it up.

"You know,"He whispered, pulling back to brush his lips over her ear, "If you were living with me at the school instead of here you could come bug me yourself if I get lost in my work. I promise that you'd have my full attention if I found you sitting on my desk naked. I have this big huge house, Rayne with a very, very nice workshop already set up. Plus I could make you breakfast every single morning. Think about it, pancakes, muffins, eggs, maybe even toast."

There was, after all, only so long Moe could be serious at any given time.


Offline Rayne Callis

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Re: Nothing Pancakes Can't Cure
« Reply #3 on: Dec 08, 18, 05:57:27 PM »
Rayne was torn, truly, between rolling her eyes and just leveling him with a deadpan stare when her beloved idiot spouted off some philosophic drivel about time being an illusion. Oh yes, time may be an illusion but the consequences of missing a date with an irritable Black Widow were certainly not. She was just still deciding how she was going to get back at him for the slight, and being woefully decaffeinated certainly was not helping matters. So, she split the difference and fixed him with a hard stare for a heartbeat or two before rolling her eyes and taking another deep drink of coffee. Her fingertips just barely kissed around the curve of the ceramic mug as she lifted it to her lips, cradling it like a treasure as she nursed it steadily for a few moments - and she didn't give Moe any more of her attention until his tone shifted into something more serious for what appeared to be a sincere apology.

And it was, too. She could hear it in his voice - see it in his eyes. Moreover, she could see it in the set of his shoulders and the slight quiver of his adam's apple. Apology, sure - and regret. It was one thing to feel bad, to be sorry, to apologize, but honest regret she hadn't expected.

He fussed with the pancakes as she contemplated this, then he moved toward her and she didn't resist him when he wrapped an arm about her to pull her close. Oh, she thought about it. Thought about stomping on his foot or showing him that the tooth on her finger wasn't the only one that was sharp and thirsty for a bit of vengeance.

But she didn't.

When he kissed her, she sighed and sank into his touch, leaning into the kiss just enough to return it. It was a little bit infuriating that he still tasted so good even when she was irritated with him. A fine, aged whiskey - something solid and a little dangerous, but with a surprising ingredient. Something.. out of the ordinary, like pineapple or squash. A bit against her will, the thought of that made her lips shift and twist in an almost smile, still pressed against his mouth. The trace of it was gone by the time the kiss broke, replaced by a softer version of her scowl, but a slice at least of her temper had been settled.

He didn't release her when the kiss broke and rather teased at her eat with his breath and his touch as he murmured his jokes and suggestions. Rayne smirked and shook her head, arching a brow as she looked over at him.

"Hate to break it to you, Moe my darling, but I have far more important things to do than chase you around begging for attention by rolling about on your desk naked." Not that she'd never make use of such a tactic, but the point of this was that he should give a damn enough about her that she didn't have to dangle her naked self in front of him for him to remember she was there. She pulled away from him and crossed to the coffeepot to top off her mug.

The bit of ire that had been soothed by his regret and his kiss seemed fairly tempted to spark again. Stupid male. One would think that two thousand years would be enough for him to learn how not to make an ass of himself. Standing her up, then having the gall to joke about how it wouldn't be a problem if she had been there to distract him into remembering her by being naked or accommodating his inability to consider her by moving in with him. That prodded a rather sharp side of her, as well - that he would joke about a serious step like that. Or maybe it wasn't serious to him.

But it was to her.

Didn't he realize that she loved him? Not just 'pretty words on the pillow' love but well and true, love..?

She snorted softly and took another drink of her coffee, her eyes sliding over to the plate of pancakes - the smell mixing with the coffee and making her stomach tighten. Stupid as he was, she was hungry, and those did smell very, very good... "What kind of pancakes did you make anyway...?"

Offline Merihem Striker

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Re: Nothing Pancakes Can't Cure
« Reply #4 on: Apr 18, 19, 12:01:56 AM »

Moe ran his fingers through his hair as Rayne looked more irritated instead of less. Even when she returned the kiss and asked about pancakes he could still feel it and see it in her posture, the set of her shoulders, the tone of her voice. She wasn’t a woman to placate with a few sweets and an apology and he’d have it no other way for it was that very intensity that drew him to her, but it still make this much more difficult than it might otherwise have been.

Alright then, time to really bite the bullet. Moe was surprised to find his hands shaking as he set the last of the pancakes on their plates and turned to present one to her. They sat but Moe’s fingers merely ran along his fork instead of picking it up.

“Rayne… Here’s the thing. I’ve never… done this with someone who wasn’t long-lived. For me a few days, a few months, even a few years are just… what a few hours might be for you. Something to look back on and wonder where the time flew off to, but not something that can’t be recuperated.” He held out a hand, palm out, to forestall any interruption. “I know, I know. You’re not long-lived. That’s the thing, though. I’ve never done more than sleep with someone so… ephemeral, yet now everyone I know with the exception of a few individuals, will be gone before I blink. It might take me decades to get used to that and by then my chance to really be with you, with my Queen, with the friends I’m making now, might be all but gone. I know the way I phrased that invitation may seem like just my usual flippancy but the truth is that if I don’t have someone around to remind me about the scope of your lives compared to mine there is a real chance that I might miss them by accident.”

This wasn’t something easy to talk about or to contemplate and the pancakes weren’t helping. They stared up at him, a testament to how much he liked this particular Black Widow, a woman who would be dead within a century.

“It’s not that I don’t respect you or your work, Rayne. It’s that even if you moved into my home tomorrow and we got married the day after that. Even if we had children and built a life within the span of a single year from now, it will all pass me by so fast. If this works—and I truly hope it does because I’m crazy about you—you’ll get to spend the rest of your life with someone you love. I won’t, which is why I want you in my house to roll around on my desk or do whatever it takes to remind me that I don’t get you forever and that disappearing for days at a time is eating away at the few short years we might have together. I have millenia of practice betting lost in projects for centuries at a time and I can’t afford to try to break those habits by myself when the days are so limited.”

He looked up from the pancakes and met her eyes. “Does any of that make sense?”


Offline Rayne Callis

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Re: Nothing Pancakes Can't Cure
« Reply #5 on: May 22, 19, 06:29:08 PM »
There were many, many words that one could use to describe Prince Merihem Striker. Vulnerable was not one of them. But right now, that was exactly what her darling Moe was projecting. Nine different shades of vulnerable - without even trying to hide or mask it.

That, more than anything, floored her a bit - and Rayne found herself slowly sitting down in a nearby chair, her full focus on the Warlord Prince laying his heart out for her. For her.

It would be a lie if Rayne said she'd never thought about the differences in their life-spans, and what that might mean - but she did try not to dwell on it. Moe was right, after all. If this thing between them, this love, this bond, this need for one another, was something that was going to last.. best case scenario was that she would live the rest of her life with the man that she loved. Moe, on the other hand, would get to span a few short years watching the woman he loved grow old, wither, and die - right before his eyes. Sure, for her there would come the insecurities of her own advancing age while he stayed all young and firm - but that was rather a small thing in comparison, wasn't it?

When Moe finished and finally looked over at her from his pancakes, he would find nothing but love in Rayne's eyes.

She sighed, then set her coffee mug aside and stood, going to him. Gently, she cupped his face in both hands and kissed him. She made it a slow kiss, a savoring one - like she would stretch the moment out into a year just for him.

"It does," she finally said, nipping his bottom lip. "I understand where you're coming from, Moe. I do. But babe, do you have any idea what a kick in the gut it is to be forgotten like that? It's one thing if your sense of time isn't the greatest or isn't felt the same or however that works, but we set a date. A day, a time, a place. And you forgot. It shouldn't matter if it was set two hours or twenty years in the future - we had a date, and you were expected, and you weren't there." She sighed and pulled back, then moved to start making them each a plate of pancakes.

"I want to move in with you, Moe. I love you. But I won't be a side project, not even a favorite one. I can promise to keep you on a schedule - we kinda have to anyway, with how busy we both are - but it's not my job to keep you on it. That's up to you."

 

 

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