(514-09-15) Vocal Lovemaking
Summary: Lady Vesper meets her match in more ways than one at the hands of the Bard of Sarum, Marek.
Date: 09-15-514
Related: Sarum Summer Tournament 514
vesper 

NPC:

joachim 


Success
Joachim makes a check for Marek Flirting at 19, he rolled 10.

The second round of the competition for performance has brought Vesper no relief. Instead of facing off against the trainee of Marek of Sarum, the famous bard has been drawn to face the lovely Lady Vesper de Newton. The bard has earned has earned his reputation as not only a songster, but also as a man with a trail of broken hearts, both common and noble as, for a male, he is very attractive. "Ah.. the sweet Lady Vesper." the bard says as he crosses the stage to take the Lady's hand and places a delicate, but not quite chaste kiss upon her palm. "I had heard you did quite well against Lady Niamh - though your beauty far surpasses hers. Perhaps, we will make beautiful music together, no?"

Out in the audience, Joachim has to grab the sides of his chair and sit down harder so he doesn't grab the thing and go club the man flirting with his sister.

Failed.
Vesper checked her flirting of 13, she rolled 16.

There's really nothing to be done about it. Vesper is who she is, and therefore she is entirely susceptible to her opponent's charm. She cannot even muster a quicky, witty repartee of his flirtation. For once, even her cheeks heat with a beautiful blush. "You are too kind," she demures, cursing herself inwardly for it, clasping her fingers hard together in front of her. "Ladies first, no?" she gestures to herself, and then to the stage, looking entirely ill at ease.

"Oh yes. I would love to hear the lovely voice that matches such an enrapturing beauty as yourself, Lady Vesper. Please, make my heart swell and and my emotions soar with your words." Marek offers effortlessly as he caresses her soft cheeks. "Even your blush makes you seem more innocent and dolcet. Ah, what a ripe apple you would be. Forbidden, and yet all at once.. succulent." And his words are meant to disarm her, to maybe cause her to falter with her words as the famous bard leans against the stage and smiles. "I wish you the best, my songbird."

Critical Success!
Joachim makes a check for Marek Singing at 19, he rolled 19.
Critical Success!
Vesper checked her singing of 13, she rolled 13.

It's the fire within Vesper that gives her the legs to make it to the stage, to clear her throat and shoot Marek a fiery, arrow-tipped glance, sharp as the dagger strapped to her thigh under the colorful dress she wears. The knowledge that she may hate herself for allowing her own light to be dimmed by his surges the woman forth as a tsunami, and she finds her brother in the audience to be her grounding point lest she truly be swept away. This song, her cobalt eyes say, is for him:

"We are family, we will not let go
The thread's so strong it cannot be broken anymore
We will not play charades
Play like we're afraid to live

This is one sacrifice I don't want to make

If there's no end
There can be no beginning, there can be no beginning
If there's no end
It feels like forsaking the dawn, we awaken and will forever see
I am still secretly grateful you're living this moment with me."

Her voice is a wealth of pure emotion, in her low whisky purr, speaking of love and of life and of the never-ending cycle of both, and Marek is forgotten to her own personal, slow rapture.

Oh, but Marek does not let his morsel go so easily. Her words charm, her voice is cool and sweet, and even as she glares daggers that she wears so close to forbidden treasures, he is only further driven to conquer this unbroken filly, to bring her to a gentle guide into his arms as he moves to the stage, sweeping by the young woman, his voice entwining with her own, entreating her to close the ranks and teasing her with his words of promises yet made.

A glance out towards where she's looking at the bard only smiles. Joachim could be a brother, could be her lover, could even be her husband, but none of that matters. She's the prize to win, almost as much as the tournament victory itself. His young apprentice has already charmed and ensnared the blind Horton girl, now it is his turn to lead by example as his words mingle so pleasantly with hers.

Can you hear my voice?
Does it reach you?
The echo of my words from my heart's voice,
Gently leading you by the hand.
Like we're flowing together, we understand each other,
and softly wake up.
The nostalgic, happy feeling of soaring high.

Where does this voice come from?
From the inside of my heart, that deep place,
The thoughts I want to convey to you are born.
From a faraway distance, I journey far,
To convey those thoughts straightforwardly,
Overflowing for you are my feelings,
As my heart whispers your name.

His voice is thick and sweet as the honey that colors his hair, the tone a perfect mixer to her sultry whiskey purr as he joins her in her rapture, bidden to be the one to bring her over that sweet edge, and to tumble into his world with him.

Success
Joachim makes a check for Marek Singing at 19, he rolled 18.
Success
Vesper checked her singing of 13, she rolled 2.

There's only so long a girl can cling to the virtue of family, even with her protective older brother in the crowd. Vesper's icy blue eyes are drawn away again and again, sliding to the beautiful man singing so artfully by her side on stage. How can she compete? The thought wiggles it's way into her brain even as the man himself worms his way into her heart. Her soft sigh is a simple expellation of the strength she was clinging to. Her next verses are dedicated to him:

"If it's just one life we are given, one time we are living…
I feel your touch light up a wild desire
Borne on my ache to take us ever higher
In our lust we are birds of prey
Every cry serves to lead astray
So carry my ache and you will know the feeling
Inside I am weak but for this lust that I'm bearing
So breathe your life in my shades of grey
Or snuff the lights and I shall fade away."

It's an admission of his superiority, despite her perfectly adequate performance. The Lady Vesper knows defeat when she stares it in its most beautiful face.

He knows the victory, Marek hears it in her voice, as he slides alongside the young woman, he's older - nearing thirty - and has had a lifetime of doing this. Alas, poor Lady Vesper de Newton is yet another victim of his honeyed words and warm intones. Even as she sighs, his voice only picks up, comforting, supporting, caressing the supple young maiden with his voice.

Can you hear my voice?
Does it reach you?
Like a single drop of rain,
When it touches your warm, gentle heart
From then, something changes
Does a time that's like eternity start to move?

I fall into your voice as well,
In this way, your warmth is here,
The thoughts I wish to convey to you,
are swallowed up in overflowing feelings, pushed to the outside.
Right now,
I want to hold you tightly, so tightly.

Sparkling light is incessantly raining down,
This is love, isn't it?
Your entire body is filling up with joy
This is love too, isn't it?

The bard slips his hand into Vesper's own hand and kneels to her, placing a soft, knowing kiss, not on her palm, but on the sensitive flesh of her wrist. "It was a pleasure to have shared our moment of vocal passion, Lady de Newton. May my voice warm you on the days when your heart feels cold." And with that, he turns to stroll off the stage, secure in his victory as the crowd - sans one very angry Joachim - thunders the approval at the vocal love-making they just witnessed between the two talented singers.

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