Dryad Eyes, part 9
2085. ^_^
When Thanik entered the musty little library that Haron frequently used as an office, the latter was already hard at work. He was poring his attention over several dozen papers spread out across the lonely wooden table in the center of the room. The actor, presently wearing his customary black pants and shirt as opposed to his more colorful storyteller garb that had seen so much use lately, pulled out a chair across from his friend, sat down, and made himself comfortable. Obviously, they could not spend every hour of every day focused on their insidious plot against Geran. Sometimes, as now, somebody had to return his attention to the day-to-day matter of keeping Keeper's Gateway running smoothly. That was something that the current King did not seem to understand; a Kingdom did not run itself. There was a lot of work that he, or somebody in a leadership position, had to knuckle down and take care of. For the past year or so since his promotion, that part of the job had fallen largely to Haron.
Finally at what he felt was a proper stopping point, he rubbed his eyes and looked up at Thanik. "Welcome, friend."
"Why, thank you." The actor grinned, and then leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. "So? How did it go, this conversation you meant to have with Charis?"
"It went well." Haron, for his part, sat back in his chair. From the base of his neck to his waist, his back creaked and cracked as he worked his shoulders. "In fact, it went much better than I had expected. We had lunch."
"Well, that sounds promising."
"Hush. Do not get my hopes up." Haron waved his hand, as if brushing the words away. "I was able to plant the seeds I meant to. I may not have her trust, but I do seem to have her ear."
Thanik grinned, and spoke around a chuckle. "So our Dryad King is consorting with Dryads, is he? Imagine that."
"It will not reflect well on him, in her eyes, when the truth comes to light."
"Indeed. Speaking of the truth, and what we've been up to, I came to tell you that it is working. Storytellers and bards that are not in our employ have begun picking up on the anti-dryad theme. They're doing our work for us, as I expected they would."
"Excellent. I am sure, however, that you will continue playing your role." A smile touched the officer's face. On this next point, he was truly happy for his friend. "I know how greatly you have been enjoying yourself."
"I have. I was born to perform. Being able to return to it after all this time is a gift from the very Gods!" The actor allowed himself a beaming grin. Then, on a more serious note, he added this. "Have you decided how we are going to move forward with this? We need some kind of catalyst to ignite the inferno that we are preparing."
"Sorry, friend. I have not had time to consider it since last we spoke. Between my lunch with Charis, and all of this, I haven't had time to devote to the next phase." He indicated the papers strewn across the table as he spoke.
Just then, the door's lock clicked and Bawo pushed his way inside. His face, always hard, was difficult for most people to read. His expression for happiness was much like his expression for extreme anger, and like his expression for sadness and depression. It was something in his mannerisms, learned over time by his closest friends, which gave away what was on his mind. As he entered the dusty old library in which they already sat, both Haron and Thanik knew immediately that he was not happy in the least.
"Welcome, friend." Thanik, the actor, greeted him. Bawo grunted. This was not particularly rude, for him. He was a man of few words, and did not waste them for any reason. His fierce eyes slipped past the man who had greeted him to the one across the table.
"You are not going to like this." He told Haron.
"What is it?"
"As per your orders, I have had men watching Geran. About an hour after your visit with Charis, she went to see him. As of a few minutes ago, she had yet to leave his rooms."
Haron was stunned. He sat for a moment, then set his fists against the table and pushed himself to his feet. His voice was flat and angry when he spoke. "So, in response to all that I said, all that I did, she ran back to him and leapt straight into his bed for the first time in months."
"So it would seem."
Suddenly, the room seemed small and cramped. A knotted ball of hurt and anger formed in his stomach, leaving him sick and tasting bile. Walking to one side, then back, he rounded the table. Bawo stood without concern as he approached, and the two men stood quietly for a moment, regarding each other. Haron gripped his friend's shoulder for a moment, and then walked past him. He was a good man. Unlike so many other people in the world, he understood what loyalty and honor meant. Walking past that man, he went to the door. Rather than reach for the handle, however, he threw forward his fist, delivering a powerful punch that would have demolished most men, or a lesser door.
For years, it seemed, Geran had been making a mockery of his life. In Camelot, he had been General Harryson's right hand man. One night, shortly after the old King had taken ill, he had had the distinct pleasure of meeting Leeann, who was soon to become Queen. They had enjoyed each other's company, and she had told him that she would like to see him again. Perhaps, she had said, we will have lunch. The next day, she met Geran at a feast held in her father's honor. A week later, they were betrothed. Then, following their marriage, he had gone off on some 'great adventure,' then another, and she was murdered while he was away. Camelot fell shortly thereafter. General Harryson had died a hero, in a futile attempt to avenge the Queen's death while covering Haron's escape with the bulk of the army and as many citizens as he had been able to gather on short notice. Later, in DarMinask, the woman that Geran claimed as a sister, Arimus, had killed two of his best friends, Salesh and Sateb, in a bout of incredible, destructive magic use. She had claimed self-defense, and everyone had been all too ready to accept that excuse.
Still later, when in spite of his reservations he rejoined Geran's army at Keeper's Gateway for what had seemed to be the final battle any of them would ever see, the bastard had struck again. First, Charis left him for Geran's bed on the eve of one of the bloodiest nights any of them had ever seen. That had stung. No, he corrected himself; it was a wound that had run deeper than his bones, into his very soul. To top that, following the battle, when the world realized that they had not only survived, but that they had technically won, every bit of the credit, the respect, the adulation had gone to, well, who else? The world had hailed Geran, Arimus, and their band of magic users and freaks as the greatest heroes it had ever known. Men like himself, like Bawo and Thanik, all three of whom had fought just as hard and sacrificed just as much, were greeted not as heroes, but as men whom had served under heroes. There were no bards interested in writing ballads about them, no storytellers spreading their names.
When Haron moved away from the door, his knuckles bleeding, he had made a decision. Both of his friends, whom had yet to take their eyes off him, saw it in his eyes. He would lose nothing else to Geran, or any of his fiendish company. Especially in light of what they had learned about the man's heritage. He would drag them all down, and destroy them if he could. When he found his voice, it was still flat and angry, but there was new notes in there as well; certainty, determination.
"She must have gone to speak with him about what I said. In turn, he seduced her. Perhaps we are even more on the mark about him than we had even guessed." Bawo and Thanik exchanged a long look as he, cradling his damaged hand, walked back around the table and reclaimed his chair. "I think I know, now, how we are going to move forward with this thing that we've been planning."
-------------
Charis dreamed of strong hands on her body, and lips, accompanied by the tickle of a beard, working their way down the length of her neck. She sighed, and shifted her body, moving back, into the sensation. It was then, her mind nudged toward the surprisingly close surface of the waking world by her own motion, that she realized that she was not dreaming. Again, she sighed, and a brilliant smile lit up her face as her eyes cracked open. How much time had passed, she wondered. She had just enjoyed the deepest, most restful sleep that she ever had, following the most incredible bout of sometimes gentle, sometimes intense sex that she had ever enjoyed. The lips and hands she had thought were a dream belonged to Geran, who lay on his side behind her.
Shifting her body, she twisted around to face him. Her joints cracked and popped as she did this, and she enjoyed that sensation along with all of the others. Facing him, she saw that his smile matched hers. Could this really be happening, she wondered? This was far from the first time they had shared a bed together. However, it may have been the first time they had done so while also sharing a meaningful relationship that would exist beyond the confines of that bed. This may have also been the very first time she had woken up next to him, and been truly, profoundly happy about that fact.
Planting a kiss on his lips, she trailed her fingers across his bearded cheek and then drew back from him so that she could speak. "So, are you feeling any regrets yet? Any irresistible urges to run off and find a willing wench at the nearest tavern?"
Her eyes sparkled. She was kidding, but there was also something deeper behind her words. In the back of her mind, Charis was deathly afraid that their relationship had not truly changed at all. In a few days, that dark inner voice whispered, he would be back to frequenting other beds and ignoring her save for when he absolutely could not. It would take a great deal of time to get past that feeling, she knew. He knew it as well, it seemed. She thought she saw understanding in his eyes before he kissed her yet again.
"I am still here, am I not?" He spoke between tasting her lips. Then added, "You should know, however, that Kella came in briefly while you were asleep. I think I may have seen her in an entirely new light..."
"Oh, you stop!" Charis laughed. "I am not going to live that down any time soon, am I?"
"No." They both smiled.
"You know," he said after several minutes had stretched, the silence broken only by the rustling sounds of their movements beneath their blankets, and the wet sound of exchanged kisses. "You never did get around to telling me whatever it was you wanted to, about your lunch with Haron?"
"Oh." Charis frowned just a bit, and shook her head. "He came to see me, and asked after you. I thought that he had some kind of agenda, which he probably does, but I doubt that it will amount to anything. It never does, does it?"
"No."
She added. "You know, we really should think about getting out of bed sometime soon. At least for a while."
"True." He said, his dark eyes on her blue ones as he arched an eyebrow and smiled. "We really should do that."
"Oh, Lord." Charis laughed.
Their lips met again, and no further words were spoken for, well, quite some time.
Previous>> || Next>>
Normally, I don't listen to music when I write. Or anything else. I find it distracting. Generally. However, the past couple of nights, I've tried turning on my playlist while writing.
This song...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XgDfzvQPDFM&1&fmt=18
...was playing at one point or another while I was writing both of the recent Geran/Charis scenes. Its kind of appropriate, I think. Quite a while back, this lady (Serena Ryder) sent me a friend request on Myspace. A couple of weeks ago, I had the pleasure of spotting, and buying, her new CD in Hastings. If you haven't heard of her, check it out. She's great.
When Thanik entered the musty little library that Haron frequently used as an office, the latter was already hard at work. He was poring his attention over several dozen papers spread out across the lonely wooden table in the center of the room. The actor, presently wearing his customary black pants and shirt as opposed to his more colorful storyteller garb that had seen so much use lately, pulled out a chair across from his friend, sat down, and made himself comfortable. Obviously, they could not spend every hour of every day focused on their insidious plot against Geran. Sometimes, as now, somebody had to return his attention to the day-to-day matter of keeping Keeper's Gateway running smoothly. That was something that the current King did not seem to understand; a Kingdom did not run itself. There was a lot of work that he, or somebody in a leadership position, had to knuckle down and take care of. For the past year or so since his promotion, that part of the job had fallen largely to Haron.
Finally at what he felt was a proper stopping point, he rubbed his eyes and looked up at Thanik. "Welcome, friend."
"Why, thank you." The actor grinned, and then leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. "So? How did it go, this conversation you meant to have with Charis?"
"It went well." Haron, for his part, sat back in his chair. From the base of his neck to his waist, his back creaked and cracked as he worked his shoulders. "In fact, it went much better than I had expected. We had lunch."
"Well, that sounds promising."
"Hush. Do not get my hopes up." Haron waved his hand, as if brushing the words away. "I was able to plant the seeds I meant to. I may not have her trust, but I do seem to have her ear."
Thanik grinned, and spoke around a chuckle. "So our Dryad King is consorting with Dryads, is he? Imagine that."
"It will not reflect well on him, in her eyes, when the truth comes to light."
"Indeed. Speaking of the truth, and what we've been up to, I came to tell you that it is working. Storytellers and bards that are not in our employ have begun picking up on the anti-dryad theme. They're doing our work for us, as I expected they would."
"Excellent. I am sure, however, that you will continue playing your role." A smile touched the officer's face. On this next point, he was truly happy for his friend. "I know how greatly you have been enjoying yourself."
"I have. I was born to perform. Being able to return to it after all this time is a gift from the very Gods!" The actor allowed himself a beaming grin. Then, on a more serious note, he added this. "Have you decided how we are going to move forward with this? We need some kind of catalyst to ignite the inferno that we are preparing."
"Sorry, friend. I have not had time to consider it since last we spoke. Between my lunch with Charis, and all of this, I haven't had time to devote to the next phase." He indicated the papers strewn across the table as he spoke.
Just then, the door's lock clicked and Bawo pushed his way inside. His face, always hard, was difficult for most people to read. His expression for happiness was much like his expression for extreme anger, and like his expression for sadness and depression. It was something in his mannerisms, learned over time by his closest friends, which gave away what was on his mind. As he entered the dusty old library in which they already sat, both Haron and Thanik knew immediately that he was not happy in the least.
"Welcome, friend." Thanik, the actor, greeted him. Bawo grunted. This was not particularly rude, for him. He was a man of few words, and did not waste them for any reason. His fierce eyes slipped past the man who had greeted him to the one across the table.
"You are not going to like this." He told Haron.
"What is it?"
"As per your orders, I have had men watching Geran. About an hour after your visit with Charis, she went to see him. As of a few minutes ago, she had yet to leave his rooms."
Haron was stunned. He sat for a moment, then set his fists against the table and pushed himself to his feet. His voice was flat and angry when he spoke. "So, in response to all that I said, all that I did, she ran back to him and leapt straight into his bed for the first time in months."
"So it would seem."
Suddenly, the room seemed small and cramped. A knotted ball of hurt and anger formed in his stomach, leaving him sick and tasting bile. Walking to one side, then back, he rounded the table. Bawo stood without concern as he approached, and the two men stood quietly for a moment, regarding each other. Haron gripped his friend's shoulder for a moment, and then walked past him. He was a good man. Unlike so many other people in the world, he understood what loyalty and honor meant. Walking past that man, he went to the door. Rather than reach for the handle, however, he threw forward his fist, delivering a powerful punch that would have demolished most men, or a lesser door.
For years, it seemed, Geran had been making a mockery of his life. In Camelot, he had been General Harryson's right hand man. One night, shortly after the old King had taken ill, he had had the distinct pleasure of meeting Leeann, who was soon to become Queen. They had enjoyed each other's company, and she had told him that she would like to see him again. Perhaps, she had said, we will have lunch. The next day, she met Geran at a feast held in her father's honor. A week later, they were betrothed. Then, following their marriage, he had gone off on some 'great adventure,' then another, and she was murdered while he was away. Camelot fell shortly thereafter. General Harryson had died a hero, in a futile attempt to avenge the Queen's death while covering Haron's escape with the bulk of the army and as many citizens as he had been able to gather on short notice. Later, in DarMinask, the woman that Geran claimed as a sister, Arimus, had killed two of his best friends, Salesh and Sateb, in a bout of incredible, destructive magic use. She had claimed self-defense, and everyone had been all too ready to accept that excuse.
Still later, when in spite of his reservations he rejoined Geran's army at Keeper's Gateway for what had seemed to be the final battle any of them would ever see, the bastard had struck again. First, Charis left him for Geran's bed on the eve of one of the bloodiest nights any of them had ever seen. That had stung. No, he corrected himself; it was a wound that had run deeper than his bones, into his very soul. To top that, following the battle, when the world realized that they had not only survived, but that they had technically won, every bit of the credit, the respect, the adulation had gone to, well, who else? The world had hailed Geran, Arimus, and their band of magic users and freaks as the greatest heroes it had ever known. Men like himself, like Bawo and Thanik, all three of whom had fought just as hard and sacrificed just as much, were greeted not as heroes, but as men whom had served under heroes. There were no bards interested in writing ballads about them, no storytellers spreading their names.
When Haron moved away from the door, his knuckles bleeding, he had made a decision. Both of his friends, whom had yet to take their eyes off him, saw it in his eyes. He would lose nothing else to Geran, or any of his fiendish company. Especially in light of what they had learned about the man's heritage. He would drag them all down, and destroy them if he could. When he found his voice, it was still flat and angry, but there was new notes in there as well; certainty, determination.
"She must have gone to speak with him about what I said. In turn, he seduced her. Perhaps we are even more on the mark about him than we had even guessed." Bawo and Thanik exchanged a long look as he, cradling his damaged hand, walked back around the table and reclaimed his chair. "I think I know, now, how we are going to move forward with this thing that we've been planning."
-------------
Charis dreamed of strong hands on her body, and lips, accompanied by the tickle of a beard, working their way down the length of her neck. She sighed, and shifted her body, moving back, into the sensation. It was then, her mind nudged toward the surprisingly close surface of the waking world by her own motion, that she realized that she was not dreaming. Again, she sighed, and a brilliant smile lit up her face as her eyes cracked open. How much time had passed, she wondered. She had just enjoyed the deepest, most restful sleep that she ever had, following the most incredible bout of sometimes gentle, sometimes intense sex that she had ever enjoyed. The lips and hands she had thought were a dream belonged to Geran, who lay on his side behind her.
Shifting her body, she twisted around to face him. Her joints cracked and popped as she did this, and she enjoyed that sensation along with all of the others. Facing him, she saw that his smile matched hers. Could this really be happening, she wondered? This was far from the first time they had shared a bed together. However, it may have been the first time they had done so while also sharing a meaningful relationship that would exist beyond the confines of that bed. This may have also been the very first time she had woken up next to him, and been truly, profoundly happy about that fact.
Planting a kiss on his lips, she trailed her fingers across his bearded cheek and then drew back from him so that she could speak. "So, are you feeling any regrets yet? Any irresistible urges to run off and find a willing wench at the nearest tavern?"
Her eyes sparkled. She was kidding, but there was also something deeper behind her words. In the back of her mind, Charis was deathly afraid that their relationship had not truly changed at all. In a few days, that dark inner voice whispered, he would be back to frequenting other beds and ignoring her save for when he absolutely could not. It would take a great deal of time to get past that feeling, she knew. He knew it as well, it seemed. She thought she saw understanding in his eyes before he kissed her yet again.
"I am still here, am I not?" He spoke between tasting her lips. Then added, "You should know, however, that Kella came in briefly while you were asleep. I think I may have seen her in an entirely new light..."
"Oh, you stop!" Charis laughed. "I am not going to live that down any time soon, am I?"
"No." They both smiled.
"You know," he said after several minutes had stretched, the silence broken only by the rustling sounds of their movements beneath their blankets, and the wet sound of exchanged kisses. "You never did get around to telling me whatever it was you wanted to, about your lunch with Haron?"
"Oh." Charis frowned just a bit, and shook her head. "He came to see me, and asked after you. I thought that he had some kind of agenda, which he probably does, but I doubt that it will amount to anything. It never does, does it?"
"No."
She added. "You know, we really should think about getting out of bed sometime soon. At least for a while."
"True." He said, his dark eyes on her blue ones as he arched an eyebrow and smiled. "We really should do that."
"Oh, Lord." Charis laughed.
Their lips met again, and no further words were spoken for, well, quite some time.
Previous>> || Next>>
Normally, I don't listen to music when I write. Or anything else. I find it distracting. Generally. However, the past couple of nights, I've tried turning on my playlist while writing.
This song...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XgDfzvQPDFM&1&fmt=18
...was playing at one point or another while I was writing both of the recent Geran/Charis scenes. Its kind of appropriate, I think. Quite a while back, this lady (Serena Ryder) sent me a friend request on Myspace. A couple of weeks ago, I had the pleasure of spotting, and buying, her new CD in Hastings. If you haven't heard of her, check it out. She's great.