(514-02-07) Garlands in the Rain
Summary: Arian draws Kamron away from the Imbolc celebrations.
Date: February 7, 514
Related: Follows immediately after Rainy Imbolc
kamron arian 

Kamron relaxes a little bit as they walk through the celebrating crowds, although there's still a good deal of tension still remaining, "Not particularly well, I'm afraid." At least he's able to laugh at himself a little, "And, unfortunately, I'm not particularly used to the wild abandon that seems to fit in so well here." Ducking around one knot of particularly enthusiastic dancers, he guides their steps outward from the henge itself. "So what is the reasoning behind the use of the Cross?" Because there can be only one, of course.

Disappointment easily reflects in her perfectly pale eyes. Arian glances almost longingly at the dancing folks, particularly as a man sweeps a woman off her feet in a smooth, graceful spin before she is set down amongst the steaming grass once more. The Laverstock maintains her fingers curled around his arm, worrying at his forearm with her strong, rough fingers. When he mentions the cross, she glances up at him while simultaneously reaching up to touch her forehead. It has dried, and flakes away easily with a simple brush of her fingers. "Brigid's Cross… it is a symbol of the Goddess. Often it is woven out of wheat. It is a blessing, oft of protection."

Kamron nods his head as he guides them over the embankment, in the general direction of the Laverstock encampment, "A symbol of your Brigid, and of God. I suppose there are only so many symbols to be had." He lets that sit for a moment, wending his way through the firelit shadows, and then he adds, "Perhaps later, I will join you for a turn about the dance floor," Mischief sparkles in his eyes under the influence of the fast-being-covered moon, "Have I mentioned yet that you look lovely in your gown for the festival? The simplicity is… clean. Crisp." From some people, that would be a teasing line, but the Dinton puts the weight of sincerely behind the words.

Arian checked her lustful of 16, she rolled 4.

As the Pagan is drawn away from the heart of the festivities and into the far quieter camp, Arian feels a sudden twang of disquiet. The sky has gone dark, and she can almost smell the wintry rain. She sends up a prayer to stave off the rains for a bit longer. The Knight's teasing words draws her brows up as she looks up at him. Her smile returns, dimples and all. She rolls her lower lip between her teeth before she gives his arm a gentle tug. "Come, I want to show you something." She starts to lead him away from the camps and tents, and toward a small copse of trees that look out at the henge and its firelight.

The Christian hesitates when she starts to guide him away, looking to the tents, and a flash of panic touches his eyes, "Just a moment, Rhi." His arm crosses his body to squeeze the back of her hand, and then he slips away, "I'll be right back." Kamron ducks into the tent he slept in (for a little while) last night, and comes out with his right hand behind his back. Licking his lips a little as he steps back toward her, he offers out his left arm once more.

"Of… of course." Arian blinks when he disengages from her and disappears back into the camp. She glances behind her a moment where the Henge still lies, and she breathes in deep as she draws the energy of the fires into her bones to warm her spirit and give her confidence. When he returns, her smile blossoms again, though her brows furrow up curiously at his posture. She takes his arm, dipping her chin slightly. With his arm twined with hers, she leads him to the copse, but not within it. Instead, she draws him close under the skeletal canopy. She smiles as she takes in the full sight of the henge. "I use to hide up here… as a child… when I was supposed to be in bed. Beautiful, isn't it?"

Kamron manages to stay just a slight bit behind her as he follows her steps to the copse of trees, helping to hide whatever he is holding behind his back with his right hand. Turning back to face the henge, where flames leap high over the embankment, but stones stand even higher within the flames. A little shiver runs through his spine, and he grimaces just a touch, "Wild. Voracious. I was able to ignore the fires while I was watching the ceremony, but I have to admit that I've never been fond of flames." And then he relents, looking down to the woman alongside him, offering her a smile, "It is beautiful though. About the second most beautiful thing present." And then he brings around what he had behind his back, a garland. His eyebrows rise in question, and he hefts the leafy tangle lightly, offering it out to her.

"Why fear them?" Arian seems to be on the edge of launching into a grand story of their glory, their symbolism, and she will not be distracted by his compliments! But then the Knight is revealing the favor he has behind his back, leaving the Laverstock abruptly speechless. She stares at the garland, and reaches out to gently finger the ribbons and small blossoms. Her smile has vanished, though it has at least not turned into a frown. "I can't accept this," she says softly, lifting her eyes to his, "without knowing its meaning." Those words should sound familiar, as they are similar to the ones Kam used when she offered him the blossoms.

"Because I nearly burned to death as a squire." The words are quiet, a simple response to the question, and then Kamron is focusing on the more important question — her response to his offer. He meets her clear blue gaze, his lips curving up at the corners, "It's a declaration of affection. An intention." He glances down to the wreath, and then back up to that strong jawline he has grown so unintentionally fond of. "I enjoy my time in your company, Rhi." His left hand rises then, reaching up where he would normally rest a hand on her clothed shoulder, and finding bare skin instead. A very different sort of shudder runs down his spine, and gooseflesh runs up his arms at the shock that transmits from that warm skin. "And I would like to spend more time there."

The touch to her shoulder sends a shiver through her, and her body responds on its own accord. She turns her cheek to his hand, as if trying to find more contact with the knight. Two things happen once Kamron has made his intentions clear. First, she draws her hand down her forearm and wrist, pulling off the garland that Glaw had given her. It falls to the ground at her bare feet. The second is her taking the favor he offers, and ducking her head a bit so she can drape in around her throat. When she looks up next, she is smiling and her eyes are shining bright with distant firelight. "Affection accepted, and returned, Sir Kamron."

Kamron swallows hard as she curls closer to him, his thumb lifting to just touch her cheek. The knight's breath comes short and quick, and his right hand rises up with the garland as she takes it, helping to guide it around her long neck. Looking down at the leaves and buds wrapped there, he becomes very aware of just how thin the material of her shift is, and he shifts a little, "Good." His voice catches in his throat, "I didn't want to make a fool of myself." A low chuckle rumbles from his throat, "Besides the obvious foolishness."

The Pagan laughs softly, and her cheeks are very warm despite the coolness of the copse. "You were worried about being a fool?" She tilts her head gently into his touch before she starts to step away, ducking behind the old, leafless oak tree to grab something tucked away there. She draws out a garland of her own, looking down at it as she steps back within his reach. When she looks back up at him, she does so almost shyly — so unlike her flirty, lusty self. "I didn't want to make a fool of myself, either…"

Kamron nods his head at her question, "I was." When she steps back, worry flickers into his eyes, and then she's back, and with a garland. His laughter rises up into the chilling air, and he ducks his head to accept it, his right hand shifting over to the back of her hand to guide the garland over his head and neck, "We can be fools together then, Rhi. Although this is a new side of you, the shy blushes and dropped gaze. And you're not even biting at your lip…" Yes, he's teasing her again.

Arian checked her lustful of 16, she rolled 12.

With his guiding hand, Arian slips the garland around his neck. She tugs at it gently, settling it around his neck tidily. When he speaks to her shy demeanor, her eyes lift to meet his. "Your Christian chastity must be wearing off on me." Her smile starts to blossom, though she does award him with a soft clasp of her teeth at her lip. Then she steps closer, gliding a hand around his side to press against his lowback. If he does not come to meet her, she presses up against him regardless. She arches up onto the balls of her feet, leaning in to press a kiss against the side of his mouth.

Laughter touches Kamron's lips again, "My Christian chastity?" And then she's proving her Pagan lustiness, and he has to play catch-up. That would be catching her as she arches up with one hand at the small of her back, and the corners of his lips curling up under the influence of her lips. Even as she drops back down to her heels, he leans forward to press a kiss to her cheek, "I prefer to think of it as noble propriety." His voice is a little husky as shivers run up and down his spine. "In public." His free hand comes up to caress her cheek in the wake of the kiss, a glancing brush.

Arian checked her pious of 10, she rolled 6.

"On this night, we are not nobles… merely a man and a woman beneath the last winter's night," Arian murmurs. The hand at her back draws her even closer against him, and she lavishes in the warmth radiating from the knight as the chill continues to move around them. "We aren't in public, either." She tilts her cheek into his hand at that brushing caress. Her lashes flutter slightly. Her boldness is certainly a vice as well as a virtue. She is back on the balls of her feet, but this time to try her hand at kissing the knight properly.

"We are nobles on every…" Kamron's quiet protest is silenced quiet effectively by her lips, and he twists into the kiss, his fingers slipping back along her cheekbone and over her ear. Pressed that close, the warmth spreads between them and soaks into him, stirring the knight's imagination and other things. His eyes drift closed, and then let lets out a breath, breaking the connection as he lifts his head, "…but you're right, we aren't in public." There's a pause, and then he notes, "And yes, your lower lips is tasty."

His response to her kiss soothes any tension that might have stirred her belly the moment she pressed the kiss to his lips. She sinks back to her feet when he lifts away. Her smile gains a warm, smoldering edge. She is just about to say more, but then the skies open. There is no soft, gentle start, nor warnings of lightning or thunder. No, it just abruptly comes down. Arian releases a sharp squeal, throwing her arm up over her head immediately. The skeletal canopy spares them, but only a bit. She peeks under her forearm at him. She is all but laughing as she glances over toward the Henge where the bonfires still burn bright.

Kamron checked his pious at 10, he rolled 7.

Aaaaand… now he's wet. One minute his own fire is stoked and he has a warm, lovely woman pressed against him, and the next his hair is plastered to his scalp and the woman is squealing. His cloak would have helped if the hood wasn't draped down his back, but now his head, face, and the front of his torso is soaked. Digging an arm under his cloak, he sweeps it up and around the both of them. No sense covering his head now, not with the inside of his hood soaked as well, but at least they can shelter together inside the furry embrace of his cloak, not that it saved either of them from a drenching. Laughter lifts into the suddenly-wet air, and his left and rises up to the cross hanging across his chest, "Now is that God shutting down the festivities, or Brigid?"

The rain is cold and sharp, almost blessed by ice. Down in the Henge, the bonfires sputter slightly at the edges, but they burn hot enough that the rain is steaming on impact. The candles at the heel stone are less blessed as some are already snuffed out. Arian takes this on from the warm embrace of his cloak, pressed even closer to the Knight's warm frame. She can smell him now — a musk mixed with the smell of fur and the bay laurel of his garland. She turns her wet face back up to him at his question. Her first answer is laughter — warm and amused laughter. "No," she replies then. "I don't think you know enough about Pagans. The true believers are going to keep dancing down there." Her nose wrinkles slightly, though she continues to smile. "What will you do now, Knight?"

"Of course. Religious ceremonies can't stop for something as simple as a torrential downpour." There is blood and smoke to the woman's hair that tickles his nostrils, and he smiles down at her, meeting that bright gaze, "What will I do? Well, I thought I might spend some more time with the lovely lady on my arm," well, actually wrapped under his cloak, against his side, and wearing… wow, that tunic is white, and wet, and thin, and it's cold out. He clears his throat again, his ears flushing red as he notices those facts and his own reaction to them, "Maybe somewhere we can stay warm. Whether that's by a fire, or under cover, or wherever. And if you're especially charming, I'll dance with you in the rain."

The flush of red at his ears draws a smoldering smile from the Lady knight. She brushes her fingers against one, touching the upper curve ever so lightly. "If I was bold" which she is "and didn't care about noble propriety" which she doesn't "I would invite you back to my tent for wine." She dimples, catching her lip between her teeth once more. "But, I'm neither of those things." She brushes a kiss across his cheek before she slips her arm with his. "Back to camp then… we can find a fire to warm by."

Kamron laughs aloud, tilting his head to accept the kiss and slipping his arm out from hers to ensure that the cloak wraps around her shoulders. That leaves his arm encircling her shoulders and her pressed against his side, but it also keeps her a little bit drier — a side benefit, surely. "You're not bold then? You could have fooled me, Sir Arian." Walking their way from the copse back to the camp, he sniffs at the garland around his neck, "The bishop would be so disappointed in me, 'consorting with heathen rituals.'" It's said with laughter, however, "But he's a hidebound Roman with a spear up his backside."

"I'm not too bold," Arian protests lightly as she falls into stride with the knight. She leans her head gently into his shoulder, and she lavishes in his warmth and scent once more. She looks up at his words, and she smiles gently. "The most harmless of rituals," she murmurs. "I have plenty of time to show you others that are far less harmless." She smiles impishly, and then looks at the Laverstock camp as they approach. No doubt that Trystan is sulking somewhere, but the fire is mostly empty. She casts a thoughtful glance to his tent, and then to hers, but she foregoes further suggestion.

"No, not too bold," Kamron admits, blowing out a bit of rain and then bringing up his right hand to wipe his face down. "And here I thought that my harmless nature was part of my appeal." Upon reaching the camp, he shrugs out of the cloak, leaving it around her shoulders to go over and haul one of the log seats from right in front of the fire to where the front of one of the pavilions shelters the log a little. "No matter how desperately the heat calls, I think it's probably for the best that we stay out here, Ria." And he does sound like he regrets that belief, "You said that this festival is about the yearning, the desire. Not the consummation. I don't want to hurt your reputation."

"It is. A most wonderful part of your nature." Arian draws the cloak around her, bundling up in the long wool and fur. She waits until the log is brought in and she can take a seat under the partial cover, near the fire. She draws out her hands, stretching them to the fire so they can warm first. She is just about to rub the warmth around her knuckles when he offers his regretful insight. She glances back at the tents, but it is a fleeting glance. "Yes, you're right…" She draws away his cloak so she can start to dry her clothes. The thin material clings to her, and the fire only seems to further catch the shadows of her silhouette. She offers him a softer smile. "Is sharing a wineskin still safe?"

Kamron doesn't even make it back under cover of the pavilion's awning when she sweeps off the cloak, and he stops, still out in the rain. Brainlock, and it's causing him to get totally and utterly soaked. "Um." There's another delay, his eyes flicker up to the tent beyond the awning, and then he looks back to her, a rueful little smile touching his lips. "Wow. Pagan girls." There was a question in there, "Um… probably. I think so." And then he finally steps in out of the rain, once more wiping off his face.

Arian looks as he almost manages to get under cover. She rubs up her shins as she draws more warmth through her, though she keeps her gaze on the knight until he finally finds his senses once more and steps in out of the rain. She smiles up at him, and she scooches over a bit to make room for him on the log. She reaches around for a wineskin, drawing it into her lap. Once he sits, she offers the skin to him so he can enjoy the first nip. "And what do you mean… 'Pagan girls'?"

Kamron wipes his hands on the back of his pants, moving hurriedly to sit down next to her. "The look. It's very wild, natural." His eyes close for a moment, and he shakes his head before taking the wineskin, popping it, and taking a slosh before handing it back, "Very attractive. And very, very distracting." The way he settled onto the log, his shoulder brushes against hers, and his thigh touches hers as well. "I like it, more than I should."

Arian checked her lustful of 16, she rolled 1.

Arian accepts the skin back, but she takes a far slower swallow. When his shoulder and thigh settle into hers, she returns the pressure. His words has her smiling, and the curve of those lips are about as smoldering as the fire they sit beside. "You should… means I have you ensnared." She then laughs huskily. "Fae magic." She then takes another swallow of wine before offering back the skin. "Soon you will be pining, and no other woman will catch your attention." Her smile goes somewhat crooked. "Not even Lady Seren de Woodford."

Kamron looks up to the bonfires blazing through the rain over the top of the embankment at the mention of fae magic, looking perhaps a little uncomfortable, and then he stops at the other name given, the wineskin halfway up to his lips, "Lady Seren?" Laughter touches his lips, and he leans over to press a kiss to her warm shoulder, "She is a dear friend, but I've never looked at her the way you inspire me to look at you, Rhi. She doesn't inspire chills the way you do."

The kiss to her shoulder inspires a wonderful wash of gooseflesh. Arian's breath catches in her chest, and she hopes he cannot hear how sudden her heart starts to thump. She lifts her eyes up to meet his, and she starts to smile. "You must know that I did not mean to cause you such inspiration, nor chills. You hit me with a snowball… I could have ignored you, if you hadn't done that." She stretches out her feet, curling her toes toward the fire to warm those petite digits.

Kamron finally takes another slug from the wineskin, setting it down beneath his legs between them. "Sometimes, God looks after his own, Rhi. I think I will claim divine guidance for that snowball. Although I suspect we might have found some way to meet one another otherwise." There's a moment's hesitation, and then he sweeps up his cloak once more, wrapping it about both of them, his arm slipping around her shoulders beneath the fur as he does, "You know this isn't going to be easy, right Rhi? It will have to be kept quiet, because people will not understand." There's a pause, and then he lets a slow smile touch his lips, "But I will not falter for all that, My Lady. I will be true, and dedicate myself to you in all things."

"Whatever God might be responsible, I'm certain that he or she has a rather interesting sense of humor." When the cloak is circled around her, Arian settles almost immediately into him as if that was all the invitation she needed. She reaches up to touch the garland around his neck, rubbing the bay leaves between her fingers to draw out their scent. His words give her pause, however, and she looks up into those startling blue eyes almost wearily. She rolls her lower lip between her teeth, but it is a worrying gesture. "Because you are Christian, and I am not." She ducks her chin a bit, even as he speaks his promise. "Nor will I," she murmurs after a moment.

"That," Kamron admits, "Plus the fact that we are both noble-born." There's a pause, and he adds with a little smile, "If only just in my case." And then he relents a little, and adds, "And yes, there is the issue of religion. But I say that love knows nothing of religion or birth, and that there can still be love, passionate and pure, short of marriage." It's not likely that he's talking about sex, considering his use of the word 'pure,' but stranger things have happened.

Arian's smile redoubles at his professions of love and passion, and she lifts her gaze to his once more. "A secret courting…" She tilts her head slightly. "You know that is the way some of the most interesting stories begin…" Then she rests her head gently at his shoulder, sliding the wine from his grip so she can have another swallow to warm her bones. The Laverstock will remain snugged against the Dinton until her own tiredness gets the better of her. Reluctantly, she will retire to her tent, leaving the rest of the festival to wind down around them.

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