(514-05-21) Breaking The Melancholy
Summary: Arian comes to see what is wrong with Kamron after the Melee
Date: May 21, 514
Related: Melee Round 2 Part 2
arian kamron 


OOC Disclaimer: Scene gets a little steamy, although nothing explicit.

In the final moments of the Grand Melee, Arian had been certain she was about to succeed. She had crossed blades with a knight that is known for his strength, prowess, and victories, and she had dealt unto him plenty of blows. But, all it took was one well-placed strike to send her reeling off her horse. She had managed to remount, of course, but by then the horn had blown and the melee had been called. She had done well— but she had not won. Not personally, at least.

After being stripped of her armor, cleaned, and wounds tended to did she go to seek out her amor. She had seen him unhorsed and then caught by the Marshall, and she had felt a strange quiver of second sight that something had caused Kamron such an abrupt end to his showing — something that had nothing to do with his horse, axe, or shield. What she first discovered was a very nervous Newt standing outside a tent, and that sent her frowning. "Is Sir Kamron inside, Jonnin?" She hesitates then. "Is he presentable?"

Poor Jonnin de Newton has a bruise rising on his cheek, and looks… well… he looks miserable. Bowing his head to the Lady Knight, he stammers, "Y- Y- Yes, he's inside, M'Lady." His hand comes up to touch his cheek, "I… I don't know about presentable. I went in to help strip him of his armor and he… he threw his helm at me." By the horror, worry, and embarrassment in the squire's voice, this is not like Kamron's usual behavior at all, and it has the 15-year-old close to tears. By the fact that poor Newt has already 'repaired' Kamron's wooden practice axe, it's been some time since the incident in question.

Within the tent, Kamron sits slouched against the center tent pole, his knees drawn up before him and his head in his gauntleted mittens. Glistening tracks run down his face from his eyes, tears following those pathways down his features and dropping slowly from the point of his chin. It's quiet crying, however, without gasping sobs or histrionics. Just… tears.

"Oh, Jonnin," Arian murmurs, and she reaches to touch the boy's shoulder gently and kindly. "Certainly he did not mean to hit you with it." Even if, perhaps, he did. She squeezes his shoulder if allowed, and then starts to step inside the tent. "I'll see to Sir Kamron… perhaps you should go find some wine and sit for a little while. Remember that Sir Kamron values and honors you."

Once inside the tent, Arian frowns deeply at the sight of Kamron and his slump. When she spots the tears, her heart sinks. Her forward progress is done cautiously, and she kneels before him as she murmurs, "Kamron…" She reaches out to touch his cheek, to trace the line of tears. "Oh, Kamron… why do I find you like this?"

Jonnin starts to flinch away from the hand on his shoulder, but settles into a light blush that does nothing to dispel his nervousness or his misery. "I… I don't think he's himself, Sir." But the youngster does not keep the Lady Knight from entering, although he does dry-wash his hands as he watches Arian enter the tent, starting to flinch slightly in anticipation of shouting or throwing or… who knows what.

Kamron does not respond to the intrusion into his tent at first, his left arm curled around his body to grasp onto the trailing ends of the red ribbon tied around his right bicep. He makes no response to her kneeling down close before him, but the touch to his cheek causes him to pull away, his eyes squeezing shut and pain — although not physical — writ large across his features. He draws in a shuddering breath, his voice a low croak when he speaks next, "What are we doing, Arian? Who are we fooling?"

Arian is both surprised and hurt by his recoil from her touch, and she immediately thrusts her hands into her lap and clutches them there. She watches him as the pain crosses his face, and his words draw a sudden paralysis in her heart. "Kamron… whatever do you mean?" She tries a laugh, but it is a weak and forced thing that barely rises above a murmured noise. She glances at the tent flaps and then back to the Knight, and she pulls herself in a little closer, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Love is not a foolish thing."

Kamron's depth of despair is evident when he keeps his head turned away from the lady knight, tears still running down his cheeks, "Love is not a foolish thing, but… is the expectation that it can go anywhere honorable?" He brings up his right hand, rubbing it across his face and leaving his skin battered, and a light cut along his cheek. Mail is not comfortable on the soft skin of the face. "Are we fooling ourselves, Rhi, that what we have can be anything more than desire?"

Arian understands now, and she feels her heart soften a touch. She drops her hand to his own wrist, using the barrier of mail to protect her from another possible recoil. She shakes her head. "No… we're not fooling ourselves, Kam… we are more than desire, though—" And her smile turns a touch impish now. "Let's be honest that we are certainly desire. But, we wish to find a way to be together… to be loved by and love one another." Her fingers move up his arm a bit to his elbow. "I have already said I would become Christian in name for you, Love… if that is what is required of me to have you."

Success
Arian checked her lustful of 16, she rolled 11.
Success
You check your amor for Arian at 13, you rolled 3.

Kamron looks up slowly, although his eyes drop away again in the face of her impish comment. He draws in a long, deep, ragged breath, trying to draw himself together. It… does not quite work, at least not right away, but at least no new tears follow those glistening trails down his face. He's already put aside any suggestion of conversion, at least for now, but he does respond to the earlier words, "You really think we're not fooling ourselves that something true can come of this? Because I was riding forward, it just struck me how… I don't know… how impossible it all seemed, despite our Love." And he raises both hands this time, to scrub at his face with his mailed gauntlets.

The Pagan woman draws her hands boldly to his cheeks once more, capturing his offending gauntlets from possibly tearing at his skin further. She leans forward on her knees, and her lips press up against his in a slow and heated kiss. Her nose brushes across his, breathing in the musk of his scent. When she settles back, she does so with a smile that smolders at the edges. "Yes, I really do think that, Kam… though I do understand how that might strike you now and then." She tilts her head. "Do you know what struck me when we were riding forward?" She does not wait for him to respond, continuing forward. "It struck me how our passion, desire, and love has inspired me to not just settle for a life as a manor wife… and that I could spend the rest of my days as your knight, just as you are mine."

Kamron resists neither the removal of his hands from his face nor the press of her lips to his. As that kiss heats up a slow degree at a time, he actually draws in a breath through his nose and begins to respond. His lips move over hers, and one hand comes up just short of her cheek. When she draws back, he pulls in another breath, letting a shudder run through his body. The knight's eyes widen slightly at her words, and his smile spreads a touch, "Really?" The question is gentle, hushed, hopeful. "I'm… I'm flattered. Amazed, flattered, and humbled."

Arian's smile has not lost an ounce of heat — in fact, it warms like stoked embers. "Really…" Then she looks over him, taking in careful stock of her knight's state. "Let me help you out of your armor, Love… I sent Newt away. He needed some wine and perhaps some friendlier company." She tilts her head. "You did throw your helm at him, after all." She leans in closer to press another kiss to his cheek, before leaning back so she can encourage him to stand with her.

That heat warms some of the chill in Kamron's center, and he slowly slumps back against the tent pole behind him, relaxing a little. Her mention of Newt causes him to groan slightly, and he nods, his eyes closed. "Yes. I did, didn't I? It…" he hesitates, "…it was utterly unworthy." The second kiss causes him to relax even further, for a wonder, and he lets himself be pulled up to his feet, "How did you do, by the way, Rhi? I missed seeing… well… everything."

The woman begins the relaxing process of removing the man's armor. She looks up once she has slipped off his mail gauntlets, stepping aside a bit to set them on a table. She then smiles over toward him, looking gently sympathetic. "I told him that you did not mean to, and he seemed comforted by that." Then she starts to help him with his surcoat. "I did fairly well… managed all the way to the end… I was bested by Sir Lwnce… but only with one hit that unhorsed me. I managed against him fairly well until that point."

Kamron offers up one hand after the other for her to pull off the mitts, then leans forward to let her help pull off surcoat and hauberk. He sighs a little at first, "Yes, I'll have to apologize for him as well." His own, "Thank you," is muffled by mail, and once his arms are free of the rolled-up metal, he takes it from her, moving to set it down on the little camp-table as well. "Wonderful, Rhi." The words are still quiet, not as exuberant as they might have been in other circumstances, "I'm so very glad you did well. Especially standing up before Sir Lwnce. I'm sure they'll be singing your praises by this time tomorrow."

Arian seems pleased at how comfortable he is with her helping him out of his armor — quite a typical engagement between a knight and squire, but something else between two amors. She then smiles at his compliments, and she shakes her head. "I still was unhorsed… but I hope that I've proved that I am a worthy Laverstock." She looks over his padded cloth shirt and then down at his belt and pants and boots, and she starts to grin through a soft pink blush at her cheeks. "I suppose I don't have to help you out of those…" Her eyes dance with mischief.

Kamron is still in the sighing mood, and he nods at her first words, "You are certainly a worthy Laverstock, Rhi." At least he gets a little smile along with those words. The blush causes him to blink, and he looks down over his attire, brushing his hands down the front of his clothing. "Uhhh." And then the blush comes, and he brushes at his cheeks, wincing slightly as the motion disturbs his mail-battered face. "I… uh…" Mean Arian, teasing the knight while he's not himself, "…I think that might end up being distracting for those outside the tend, Rhi."

Arian smiles with bright, dimpling success as she manages to get a stuttering, blushing response from her knight. She reaches up to curl her arms and hands around his shoulders and back, drawing herself in close against the knight. "Then you will just have to hope that others are far more distracted…" She presses her lips to his once more, drawing him into another heated kiss. Her fingers start to glide down his back, coaxing the muscles on either side of his spine.

As she draws herself close, he wraps his left arm around the small of her back, partially on instinct and partially on pure desire that runs below his twisted-up emotions. The press of her all-too-warm body to his causes him to pull in a sharp breath through his nose, his mouth too busy returning that kiss. His eyes are closed, and his left hand comes up again, his fingertips touching her cheek almost hesitantly, tentatively. While that may be tentative, however, the arm at her waist tightens, pulling her all the closer. Finally drawing back from the kiss, he murmurs, "Thank you."

The embrace sends warmth through her — and comfort. She turns her cheek into his hand once their kiss has ended, and she smiles with warm affection — and a bit of lust. She drops her hands further down his back until she is curling them at the hem of his leather pants. "Thank me? Why are you thanking me, Sir Kamron?" Her pale eyes dance with hunger and amusement. She turns her lips against his cheek, and then jaw, and then ear.

"You've rescued me again." Kamron whispers the words against her lips, lowering his brow to hers. His fingers dig into her sacrum, curling and loosing, "First from Saxons, and now from myself." The touch of her lips to his jaw and ear causes him to tilt his head aside, opening his neck, and he makes a low sound of somewhat-frustrated contentment. "That feels very, very nice."

Arian smiles, though it is an almost shy smile. "I will always be here to save you, Kamron… just as you will be here to save me." This is murmured against his ear. Then she starts to trail her lips down his throat to where his neck and shoulder meet. Her hands are gliding across his hips, drawing him up against her. "I understand now why camp-followers are so adored after a battle…" Her pale eyes smolder with warmth. "I find myself just wanting to touch you… to taste you…" Her words are sighed against his skin.

Kamron smiles at the first words, starting to nod his head and then freezing in place at the continued trail of her lips. It's not a terrified frozen, however, but more of a 'don't let this stop' frozen. In fact, he isn't even willing to breath there for a moment. As she goes back to smoothing, however, a shiver runs down his spine, and he smiles a little gently, the fingers of his left hand caressing her cheek and hairline, "Ah… victory is… warming, isn't it?" And at that point, he blushes brightly, "I can assure you, defeat is… not." Still, he drops his head forward to press a kiss to the side of her neck. It may not be scorching as the touch of her lips to his skin, but it is still very warm.

The Laverstock's hands slide across his pelvic bone, pressing her fingers into the nodes. Her head turn away slightly as he kisses her neck, and her body quivers slightly. Then she smiles up at him, despite his self-deprecating words. "Have no fear, Sir Kamron… I will not press the issue…" Though she leans in closer to whisper against his ear, her grin warm and curved. "I would like nothing more than to go to my knees before you. Just so you know my mind, Love." She then touches her lips softly to his in a soft, almost chaste kiss. A startling opposite to those lustful words.

Kamron catches his breath when her hands go to his hips, ducking his head into her neck. The whisper, however, causes him to draw his head up again, a curious look crossing his features, "On your knees? But shouldn't we both be kneeling at the alter of Lo — " Oh. Wait. That's what she means. Blood rushes into Kam's face, and he swallows hard, shocked enough into very thoughtful consideration beneath the light weight of her lips. "Ah. That is…" His voice is tight, "…uh…" blood to the brain, Kam, blood to the brain. "That's… a very attractive image…"

Arian's pale eyes open, looking up into his with a confident warmth. She starts to smile — a slow and impish smile that only stops when her teeth gently catch her lower lip. She does not recoil from him, but instead remains closely pressed against his warm body. "Would you like me to?" She tilts her head aside, looking quite coy despite that dangerous smile on her lips. Her gaze darts to the tent flaps, and then back up at him. "Or would you prefer that I just…" And her fingertips curve in from his hip, brushing across the laces of his leather pants.

That catch of her lips between her teeth causes Kamron to draw in another breath, emphasizing the press of their bodies. "I would," he hurries on from there, "but I shouldn't. We shouldn't." The brush of her fingers across the front of his pelvis causes him to straight up as if someone had touched him with a hot poker, for all that his arm remains wrapped around the small of her back.

Arian does not immediately relent. The long pads of her fingers rub, making it clear how eager she is to please him — and her. She lifts her eyes up to meet his, and she slowly draws back. "As you wish, Love…" She turns her lips against his cheek, lingering against his clean-shaven skin and breathing in his scent. "But know how much I want to…" Her gaze drifts away, though her disappointment is not as palpable as it has been. "Should I leave you to dress?"

Kamron drops his brow against hers as her fingers caress, and his own fingers tighten at her back, his breath quickening and his eyes closing. He manages to silence any verbal expression of the feelings running through him, but it is a very, very near-run thing. Her question, however, causes him to bring his hand back up to her cheek, caressing and cupping so that his fingers slide back over her ears and into the short, helmet-tossed waves beyond. His fingers urge her face up, so that he can drop his lips to hers, expressing the hunger that he denies out loud and the twist of lips, the pull and play, and in the brush of his tongue over her lips.

Arian is not expecting such a sudden and physical reaction from her almost-lover. She was about ready to release him, step back, give the Christian space so he could find some peace from his lusty Pagan girl. But then he is drawing her back and she is captured by his lips. Her jaw trembles slightly, and then she replies in kind. Her lips part and her tongue dances freely with his. She presses her entire body against his from lips to hips. Her head tilts in his grasp. Her nose brushes against with each passing moment in that kiss, and she only pulls from the kiss far enough to catch her breath. "Kam…"

Kamron can take the initiative sometimes, even with this lusty Pagan girl. He shares that breath with her, drawing it in through his nose for all that his lips are free a hair's breadth from hers. He does not open his eyes, merely glorying in the closeness of this terrifyingly effective lady knight. His left hand slides around to the back of her neck, beneath that gather of dark hair, "Don't go yet. Maybe I'm not all the way recovered yet…" There is a little smile to the whispered words, suggesting that he is just finding a reason for her to stay.

Arian is actually surprised by Kamron's initiative, and she finds herself demured by it. She shivers delightfully against him, hands curled at his hips. Her eyes flutter a bit with each passing murmur of his lips against hers. "As you wish…" She whispers n return. Her nose brushes up against his, and then her lips lift to touch the tip of his nose gently before rising higher still to touch his forehead. Her body remains wonderfully curled against his, so he can feel each curve of her body and the thunder of her heart beneath her breast.

The Christian knight smiles softly at the response, his hand at her back lifting to stroke down her spine as if she were a cat, although the pressure is more aimed to arch her against his form than to cause her to arch back into his hand. For a heartbeat, Kamron considers drawing them down to the floor, but he's not sure that he could resist his impulses his fellow knight draws out in him. Instead, he ducks his head to accept the kisses to his nose and forehead, then nuzzles into the side of her neck, his lips finding the hollow beneath her ear as his fingers stroke at the back of her neck.

And she arches into him at his encouragement. Her head falls back into his stroking fingers. She gasps softly, but hardly loud enough to spark the attention of the camp beyond. Arian tries to resist her own impulses, and does quite well. Her body shudders with her own slowly growing excitement.

Kamron moves his lips slowly down her neck, his left hand slipping away from her neck to curl beneath her arm and around to her back once more. His right hand slips down to hip, his thumb catching on the point of her hip. His heart beats so loudly and so quickly that he's certain that everyone in the entire tent city can hear it, and his breath comes all the quicker. He twists his head to apply the faint suction of his lips and movement of his tongue back up the far side of her neck before they seek out her own lips.

"Kamron…" His name is murmured almost in holy benediction. She releases a sharp moan when he soothes and teases her neck with his lips and tongue. But when he seeks out her own lips, she is already pressing forward to capture his with hers. The kiss is hungry and demanding, begging earnestly through the physical touch. She murmurs his name again through the kiss.

Repression is a horrible thing. And Arian is a horrible temptress. Kamron's thumb slides slowly inwards from her hip, and then it stops and he stops as well. His features flush brightly, but he groans, "Rhi… oh God, Rhi…" and then his mouth seeks out hers for another of those hungry kisses, matching fire with fire for once.

As his thumbs slide around her hips, Arian feels a sudden shudder in the depths of her center. She yearns for him, yearns for his touch. The kiss he offers is accepted, but far slower and simmering than his own hunger and fire. She murmurs through the kiss, speaking through the passion, "Kam…" She smiles softly, biting a bit at her lower lip. She wants to say more, but she cannot seem to decide what to say.

The slower demand from Arian quiets Kamron's need a little, his embarrassment catching up to him. Drawing his head back to study her lovely features, so close to his own, his blush is bright even in the dimness of the closed tent. "I'm sorry, Rhi." I didn't mean to, I mean…" He is at a loss for the right words as well, and settles a little miserably on, "I'm sorry," again.

"Kamron!" Arian says in surprise at his apology, and then she starts to laugh in a low, but adoring laugh. She draws him closer to her, nuzzling in against him to press soft and gently kisses to his lips, jaw and cheek. "No… no apology… you did exactly what I encouraged, Love… don't you see that?" She smiles softly at his blush. "What did you think I was doing?" Her words are soft and gentle, not trying to embarrass him further.

Kamron ducks his head a little at her surprised reaction, shuffling his feet around hers and then twisting his hips away just a little. His words are a murmur, almost a mumble, through his blush, but at least he does tilt his head to accept — even welcome — the attention of her lips, "I wasn't exactly thinking, Love. But it seemed that… I mean…" And then he just stops, shaking his head a little and leaning in to offer up another kiss to the corner of her strong jaw. "Thank you… I think."

Arian's smile is soft and gentle — adoring to say the least. She brushes her fingers behind one of his ears, and draws his gaze to meet hers. She then looks down at his hips as they shift away from hers, and she finds herself blushing softly. "Would you like me to help?" She looks up with those warm, pale eyes. "I don't want to leave you… in this state." Her dimples are soft. She tilts her head slightly. "And it is a good thing, Kamron… pleasure is a good thing."

Kamron tilts his head into her fingers, chuckling softly, a little self-consciously, at her question, "I think you already helped me quite a bit." Leaning forward, he presses a little kiss to her temple. Shifting his feet again, he adds, "It certainly feels good, but I think it might be… distracting." A little chuckle lifts from his chest again, "Even more distracting than you usually are." His brows furrow a little bit, and his blush deepens, but he pushes on, "But what of your pleasure, Rhi?"

The dark-haired woman offers a soft smile, and she laughs huskily at his shifting feet and blushing words. She ducks her cheek, looking a touch modest even while her eyes smolder between her dark lashes. When she looks up, she offers a dimpled smile. "Distracting can be good, can it not?" Then when he quests after her own pleasure, her dark brows arch slightly and her mouth starts to curve into a small smile. "Is that something you would like to help with?"

"Good, or dangerous." And then she offers up the even more tempting words, and Kamron shifts his weight from one foot to the other, leaning forward to press a kiss to her lips, "I… I would, but…" He's definitely struggling between desire and his upbringing, and thus far, it's a dead heat. "I think…" Taking in a deep breath and closing his eyes again, he sighs heavily, "I think that we've probably been in here alone too long." And then there's a long pause, and he adds, "But that I owe you one. Some day. Some day soon." Each word is a struggle, for all that it's an internal one.

Arian offers a small nod in the wake of his words. She brushes her fingers across his cheek and jaw, offering an affectionate exchange. "I'll leave you then," she murmurs. She starts to step away, fingers trailing down to brush across his softly in passing. "When you are ready…" She smiles softly, even if there is a bit of disappointment in her gaze. She at least does not let him see that disappointment for long as she starts to step away.

Kamron brings his hand up to brush over hers at the caress, his own disappointment mirroring her own. Still, he leans in to offer a little kiss to her smile, almost apologetic for all its sweetness and light. He doesn't say the words this time, but he still mouths them, 'I'm sorry.' And as she turns away, his hands come up to scrub over his short hair, one after the other, a non-verbal demonstration of his unrest and displeasure at what he sees as a failure, and what he might have seen as a success not so long ago, before he met the devilish woman.

Arian almost misses the wordless apology, but the kiss and movement of his lips causes her heart to tighten a touch. Her smile falters, and she nods slightly. She doesn't say more, merely releasing him and moving to lift the tent flaps and disappear into the camp. She is torn between her success and his rejection, though she at least has promised herself she wouldn't make the poor Knight feel bad about his undeniable restraint. So, she is off to return to the Laverstock tents.

Outside, Newt studies Arian carefully upon her exit, looking for signs of a struggle. He undoubtedly misinterprets a few of the physical signs — tousled hair, elevated breathing, and slightly disheveled clothes — and quickly ducks a head into the tent to see if his knight has been fighting women. Inside, he sees Kamron standing just before the center pole of the tent, his head down and his hands on his hips, disappointed, but at least he's out of most of his armor and not crying. Indeed, Kamron finds himself aching to follow after his Lady Love, to call her back and give her everything she wants — and he wants as well. Instead, he looks up, weary and worn, and offers up, "I'm sorry, Newt. I behaved abominably towards you. I'll… I'll be out in a minute."

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