transgressings | inbox for duplicity;

[ Vanessa often considers herself more of an observer, the sort of person who will ignore the option of conversation at a party in favor of taking in those unique details about the room itself, the surroundings; there's that, of course, and the fact that people give away all sorts of things when they are given free reign to speak, and Vanessa can keep her words limited to few while studying them in turn for those near-imperceptible details.

Barely an exchange has passed between them but she can acknowledge the moment of recognition, the subtle rise of an eyebrow, and Vanessa meets that gaze and holds it, chin tipping downward without breaking eye contact. ]

Of course. If you'll follow me.

[ She gestures, a gentle sweep of her arm, to lead the other woman over to a display on the other side of the store, along the far wall. ] We have options here that can successfully offer you some relief — even if it is for those rather minor aches and pains. [ Her voice lowers, almost conspiratorially, as she plucks a container from the shelf. ] These will ease stiff muscles and bruising when applied directly to the area, and I suppose the only choice you have left before you is what sort of pleasing scent you might enjoy. Or none at all, if that is your preference. We sell an unscented version as well.

( Well, then. It would seem a game was in play, and for all the ache in her limbs, Herian would have to confess herself greatly pleased by the revelation. She has thought of the mystery woman more than once since their parting, and had been— not content, exactly, to accept it as a singular meeting, but readily able to accept it. Intrigue was intoxicating, after all. )

You cast me into a sea of indecision.

( Voice soft, though her own conspiratorial humour is evident enough. At least, she imagines, for one so easily acquainted with her as the other woman was. )

Though I’ve long been partial to florals. Lavender, mayhaps? ( Head canting slightly, Herian allows her a small smile. ) Though I must confess myself new to many of the luxuries and scents of this world. What recommendation would you make to one in need of education in such things?

Hardly my intention, I assure you.

[ It would not be completely truthful for her to claim that she has never dwelled once on the identity of the woman whose path crossed with her own that night, but for all that those masks had hindered, some details are still cast definitively in her memory, details that have emerged at the forefront of her awareness now that she finds herself in that same company again. The sound of a voice lowly uttered as if intended for her ears alone — and yes, the same notes in that tone, to say nothing of the other identifiers that she is able to discern from a closer proximity, like the distinctive shape of a full mouth moving to form the words uttered.

Vanessa offers a thoughtful hum in reply and then replaces the item on its original position atop the shelf before searching specifically for another, finding it shortly thereafter and bringing it down between them. ]

Lavender has many therapeutic properties. The scent alone can help to calm the nerves, but there are other ingredients in this that have been incorporated to reduce pain. [ Slowly, she loosens the cap and lifts it in invitation for the other woman to smell. ] See if that suits you?

You are most merciful.

( Low, as she looks to the bottles, intrigued, as though she were not memorising each movement of the stranger, did not recognise the tilt of her head and the way her body shifts and moves. Rather than take the bottle, she leans closer to inhale the fragrance, eyes closed and savouring it a few moments, letting the stillness wrap about her. )

It feels— warm. ( Pleasing, really, and surely all the senses are more valuable when gauged in terms of what they make you feel. But, alas— she does sigh. )

And do you have potential tools for the salve’s application?

( Vaguely, she gestures to her back. ) The worst of the pain is not easily in reach. Or could a salve such as this be added to a bath?

I doubt anyone's ever accused me of such a thing.

[ She is conscious, very much so, of their nearness to one another even in so public a space; how could she not be, when the last time they were given this opportunity certainly lent itself to the possibility of being interrupted or, at the very least, observed? And she is reminded all too vividly of another time when she'd been prompted to divulge the intricacies of a scent to another fascinating individual, one who held just as much intrigue for her as this woman does now. ]

Yes. [ She whispers that concession at the perceptive answer, replacing the lid after another moment. ]

This would be best applied by hand, although we do offer an oil-based tincture of the same scent. Only a few drops at a time to any bath — for soaking, of course. [ A beat, and then she ventures a soft inquiry. ] Is administering the product something you require assistance with?

Oh?

( She is tempted, briefly, to make some comment significantly more lewd in nature than their present discourse. Then they’ve not known the relief offered by your mouth, for example, would be inappropriate.

Her gaze flickers briefly to the line of the stranger’s neck, and she remembers the path she bit down it, the searing heat her mouth had pressed to her throat. )

I see. ( Focus; she clears her throat. )

Much as it wounds my pride ( faint humour, but humour nonetheless ) I fear that may be the case.

[ As attuned as she is to the other woman's presence, even her slightest movement, she cannot miss the fleeting shift in that gaze — and Vanessa becomes aware, very much so, of the submissive mark that bisects the column of her throat, something she initially covered with high collars but has often not moved to always shield since. Part of that is the safety in her contract, an asset that she recognizes is not afforded to everyone of a similar designation, but the other is that she refuses to feel shame in it, a seemingly arbitrary status assigned to her.

And more than that, she remembers, very intensely, the attention that was shown to it by a certain mouth — the same mouth that invites a similar yearning to close the space between them altogether for that sweet indulgence. ]

If you find yourself lacking in available hands — [ It is an invitation, and as implicative as she's permitted herself to be up to this moment. ] I would offer my services to you, Miss... ?

[ And now she seeks a name, where before she had not, but the desire to know more eclipses the maintaining of that mystery between them. ]

Ser Herian Amsel.

( A slight bow, no less respectful for the lack of depth to it - in truth there is a slight hiss in her breath as the pain in her muscles sabotages the effort to go so low she’d prefer. )

Knight Paladin. If you declare yourself at my service, then I hope you will consider me at yours.

( There’s an expectancy in her voice, inviting the return of a name rather than demanding it. )

I would be greatly endebted to you for such assistance.

Well, it isn't every day that I find myself in the company of a knight.

[ Or find herself bowed to, no less, and the subtle quirking at the edges of Vanessa's mouth are enough of an indication that she isn't necessarily amused by the situation, but rather closer to endeared by it — even if she holds out a hand, briefly, to try and stay the other woman from performing any sort of customary bow if it would only pain her more. ]

Please. [ And she answers with a slight incline of her head, though the temptation is there to offer a curtsy in reply, however brief. ]

Vanessa Ives. Consider it an even trade given your impending purchase, Ser.

Very obliging, Miss Ives.

( More often than not here she allows her title to be set aside, here. There seems a degree of folly in clinging to it too eagerly, such that she only really is firm when people who which to speak more formally attempt to use “Miss.” She wishes it were more a desire to be helpful and not so much entangled with her pride, but alas. Hubris is as much a part of her as knighthood, part of the very defining of her. )

Though if our breed is truly so rare, my apologies are yours in their entirety, for so sorry a representation of knighthood in our first meeting; begging aid when mine duties would have me fit to render succour to those with need of it.

( First meeting, indeed. She even manages to say it with a straight face. )

I hope you’ll indulge me with the opportunity to make amends.

When the occasion permits.

[ She turns the jar over within her fingertips, contemplating the use of her more formal title; it is something she will always default to, often well past the point of insistence that she's no longer required to, and yet she has a name here now, a reference she did not possess before, but she won't elect to use it until the right moment presents itself. ]

I wouldn't think of it as begging. [ A small, wry smile slides across her mouth as she steps across the room toward the register, but only after grabbing those similarly scented bath oils to place on the counter along the soothing salve. ] And I'm sure, in any other instance, you wouldn't hesitate to perform your duty to the most of your abilities.

[ Her fingertips rest against the counter, slender digits curved slightly. ] If I ever required your services.

( Herian watches, quiet and intent as she analyses the woman before her, how she moves, finding the overlaps and differences between this one and she who has demanded her attention so immediately. The fascination holds, may even have escalated, and she has to remind herself to hold her focus as propriety would dictate, not bluntly or clumsily glance the cleave she’d so gladly kissed and sucked at, or the thighs that had been clenching hard about her.

No, focus. )

Know me to be at your disposal, should the day come.

( Drawing out the purse for her monies, Herian looks briefly perplexed as she looks at the notes and tried to determine which of these paper monies is which. Softly, )

Lighter than gold and silver, but far more confusing.

And before I have even rendered my assistance to you in full? Rarely have I known anyone to have such faith in my abilities sight unseen.

[ Her voice lowers, although they are the only two people in the shop at this very moment and there is no need to speak as though there are any secrets to be held between them, but her gaze holds steady and she recalls that striking pair locking onto hers from behind the guise of a mask. Unshielded, they are even more difficult to glance away from, and yet she does, drawing a subtle breath as her attention descends to the purse. ]

It is a different currency than I am accustomed to, but — [ She extends one hand across the counter, fingers hovering over one of the smaller bills. ] May I?

[ She will only take what is needed to pay for the salve; the rest, perhaps, will be more of a secret gift. ]

( Perhaps that makes it hard to hide away a smile, making the expense so very specific. Aye, she was a woman of great and generous faith. )

And rarely have I known one to so readily inspire such faith.

( What a random happenstance, right?

Leaning closer, to deliver the purse more easily to Miss Ives, Herian holds it out for her to peruse. She remembers those fingers, that are so tauntingly close, remembers how they had spread her, and left her panting. It might be enough to make her abdomen tense with wanting. )

By all means, though... I suppose in this I truly am at your mercy. Treat me kindly.

( Teasing, such quiet teasing. )

[ There is a scent on the air, delicate in contrast to the strong figure before her, and it comes over her in a wave, calling her back to the memory of the moon's rays cast through dark leaves, dappled light against soft skin, lips parted to allow for harsher, panted breathing — and in another instant, she has averted her gaze to drop between them, quickly selecting no more than what is required for this. ]

I see no reason to deal with you in any other manner.

[ And there, the pleasant smile reemerges, though there might be a different note in the eyes that finally lift to hold the fair knight's carefully, a pause extending the meaning between them before she diverges to finish the transaction. ]

I suppose all that remains now is when you would like me to assist you.

Edited 2019-10-27 19:55 (UTC)

Have you engagements this evening?

( Soft, quiet, as her voice so often is. The quiet rasp to it is not unusual, either, for all that it is more weighted than it might normally be. )

Or, if that is too great an urgency to be set upon you for so generous a service, I can make myself available at your convenience. When is your presence not required in this establishment?

( Eager as she is, not one to deny the wanting coiling tighter within her at the anticipation of seeing this woman again, she is not inclined to make demands. If the lady should reconsider the offer as well, then so be it. )

As a matter of fact.

[ She carefully diverts to place the purchased items into a small bag before sliding it and its new contents across the counter to the other woman. ]

My schedule is clear.

[ Whether that is the truth or not, it may not be evident in her gaze, one that holds and lingers on the other; if she did have a prior engagement, it is one that she is more than willing to shift aside in priority of this.

After a moment of consideration, she reaches for a pen and a small notepad, writing down an address before tearing the paper free and slipping it into the bag. ]

You may find me there in residence this evening, at your leisure, Ser Amsel.

Fortune smiles on me, then.

( Said with such solemnity, even as a smile threatens to catch her lips. Instead she keeps her expression carefully schooled into one of neutral interest as Miss Ives writes the address. Accepting the bag with a grateful smile, Herian bows her head respectfully. )

Until this evening, then.

( As she straightens up, Herian holds eye contact perhaps just a moment too long, before she makes her way from the shop. The fascination remains, it seems, and for all that she now has a name, so much remains a mystery. Who a person was could hardly be represented by a name, a workplace, and she lingers at the door a moment to cast a look back to Miss Ives before leaving.

Hours later, that evening, when the sky is painted in shadows of purple and pink they fade into the horizon and stars swim in that inky expanse, Herian arrives at the address granted her. Her sword is at her side, still, but she wears fresh robes and has set aside her armour and chain mail. She lingers long moments before knocking, and stepping back a respectful distance from the door, upright and correct - perhaps recognisably military. )

[ It is about the time that she would have expected a sound knock at the door, though it isn't her intention to keep her guest waiting — it's merely that this house is really more of a mansion and it takes her a bit longer to clear the space from one side of it to the other, but gone is the carefully laced and buttoned woman from this morning, even if the length of her gown still swirls around her ankles with every step.

Instead, she's donned a different dress, arms and shoulders rendered bare by its cut with the theory that she may need to keep her hands free of any interference from long sleeves, her hair not quite as severely pinned of the back of her neck with a few rebellious strands drifting down already of their own volition. Idly, she smooths her hands over the sheer drape of her skirt and reaches for the door, slippers a quiet sweep against the floor when she steps back to reveal the new arrival standing on the front stoop. ]

Welcome.

[ She offers a smile this time, a note of fondness visible in it, and moves to afford the other woman space to enter. ] Please, come in. May I take anything for you?

( Oh.

Every time she beholds Miss Ives, as she now knows her to be, she seems an entirely different iteration of herself. A mystery woman thriving on instinct, an embodiment of propriety almost stern dignity, and now this more relaxed vision. The loose strands of hair are oddly tantalising, though she does not allow her gaze to linger overlong.

Unfastening a couple of ties, she’s able to slide her shoulder cloak away, holding it out to her host. )

Thank you. ( The sword she does not remove, though she indicates it with her hand. ) Is it agreeable to you that I remove this from my person only when we are in the correct room? I prefer it to be within easy reach, lest some matter take us by surprise.

( work work work )

Of course.

[ It is an impressive weapon, what she can determine of it from this angle, although it seems impolite to request a closer look especially while they're still occupying this space in the foyer; she will take the cloak, however, carefully folding it over one arm before moving to hang it up inside the hall closet for easy retrieval later on, and then steps back to stand in front of the other woman with a small gesture to the house itself. ]

It's rather a bit large for my tastes, but it actually belongs to a dear friend of mine, and when we contracted — well, it's been something of a relief to have so much space available when several of us occupy the residence now.

[ At last count, there are four who dwell here, including herself; she briefly weighs over whether to ascend the staircase leading up before electing to steer them into the drawing room instead. ]

Would you care for something to drink first, before we begin? We have tea, water, coffee. Stronger options. [ As if the tray of various decanters sitting a short distance away wasn't obvious enough on its own. ]

( It is a very strange thing, being here in the home of the woman who had been so long a mystery. A name and an address to go with the memories that were branded on her. Herian had wondered, briefly, if that would make their acquaintance somehow mundane, commonplace. It seemed a so silly a thought, now she is here.

She makes a sound of quiet amusement. )

Sincere apologies--

( Herian shakes her head as they walk, slightly embarrassed. ) Coffee is a far-flung luxury, in my world. It remains... so strange, for it to so commonplace a thing.

( She looks to the decanters, gaze lingering a moment before she looks back to the hostess. )

Have you wine? If that is not too great a presumption.

Edited 2019-10-30 10:43 (UTC)

I've never really preferred it, to be quite honest. It's not the drink of choice in my world. People tend to veer towards a stronger tea, though there are other avenues, of course.

[ She'll wait, not quite poised on the answer of whatever her guest will decide — but letting her attention linger in turn, perhaps an extra beat or two. ]

Do you have a preference for red or white? [ It isn't anything she must use great effort to secure; like many of the other rooms in this house, Dorian's wine cellar is nothing short of impressive and offers plenty of choice. The intent is to provide something that will aid in relaxation, and wine would certainly do the job. ]

I have not yet tried it. ( Faintly conspiratorial, she leans forward, as though a whisper were necessary for privacy, as though this were some great secret. )

Knights are not always so bold as we would wish it believed.

( Terrible, dangerous, fearsome coffee. A dread adversary, an outright danger. Faintly dramatised, Herian sighs. ) I tell myself it is wisdom, but alas.

( Alas, she fears she may be a coward, to withdraw from some possible clash with this terrible entity, coffee. )

Red, please.

Oh, but some of the stories must be rooted in truth.

[ For how many times had she fallen asleep after reading tales of brave knights and bold deeds, before she left her childhood behind and pursued darker narratives? Yet she'd always retained something of a fondness for the poets who wrote of recovered love and happiness achieved, a romantic even in her reading preferences.

She would never dream of encroaching on a warrior's space, especially one who still carries a weapon, but her skirts whisper as she shifts forward, fingers hovering in the air between Herian's sheathed blade and the curve of her hip. ]

You are bold when the occasion calls for it, I think.

[ And she nods in answer to the request, preparing to step over to the cart where she knows at least one bottle is always kept out for either company or the fellow occupants of this house. ]

inbox for duplicity;

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