The Amell Legacy: Transgressions

[Zevran]

Zevran sits up, studying her carefully. "This is not a debt, in either direction?" he seeks to clarify. "I... gods above, I am interested, yes, but I cannot..."

[Isabela]

"No," she says, quietly. "My debts are paid. This is about you and me."

[Zevran]

He smiles then, slow and warm and welcoming. "Then I would love to love you," he says just as quietly, leaning in to kiss her, this time with a great deal more passion.

[Isabela]

But Isabela pulls back, searching his face. "Isabela doesn't do love," she says, with a slight frown. "Sex, yes. Gods yes. But.."

[Zevran]

"That seems... lonely, but I was speaking poetically," he clarifies. "As in, make love, as in a slower, more sensual sex rather than anything more frantic or wicked. I am..." He swallows, eyes tightening a bit. "I think that I shall not have a taste for anything too... aggressive for a few months."

[Isabela]

"Understandable," she says, moving to plant a kiss at the join between his shoulder and neck.

[Zevran]

Zevran shivers slightly. Beth was earnest and a good student but... Isabela is... He slides his hand along her arm to rest it on her thigh. "Anything... to avoid for you? Any requests or- preferences?" he asks a touch breathlessly.

[Isabela]

"I trust you," she says quietly, moving closer, into his lap. "Hush. Let me take care of you."

[Merrill]

As most everyone else has been busy with either tests, Marian or sword fighting, Merrill has found herself spending most of her time wandering around the Oak. She doesn't go into town if she can help it and avoids people as well, but the Oak? It's intimidating, almost scary at times, with how... real and looming it can feel but... It also feels nice. Most of all, other people can feel it. The very idea, the possibility that she's not crazy, that's she's not mad or delirious, that she didn't make everything up... She can't even begin to process what that could mean. Not really. Still, as nice as spending time wandering the Oak or taking lessons from Wind Dancer, the third eldest of the Daughters, can be at times...

I miss Carver. And even Beth and Lightsong and Marian, Merrill thinks sadly. I should be happy with what I have, and be glad they just went away instead of turning on me but... Stupid heart. The tiny dragonling in her lap lets out an adorable chirping noise, which wrests a smile from the elf. Leaning back against the base of the Oak, partially hidden by the roots around her, she smiles down at the still unnamed being. "And I still need to figure out where you came from... maybe someone misses you..." It would be nice if someone was missed...

[Carver Amell]

Carver slumps against the trunk of the Oak, laughing to himself. His muscles ache -- his beautiful, strong, hard muscles. He's still too weak, too uncoordinated, but every day he gets just a little bit stronger, a little harder, a little more competent. Every day he becomes a little closer to the man he wants to be, a little further from the weak, pathetic girl he was. 

A little more worthy, he tells himself. A little more myself.

He brushes hair back from his eyes, frowning a little. Getting long. Needs another trim. I should find Merrill, see if she has a minute. The thought of the slim, quiet elf makes him smile. She'll never need to be afraid again. I'll be able to protect her. We'll get married and have merikos babies. It'll be perfect. Maybe we'll be adventurers, or maybe I'll get her a house on the seashore and I'll be a sailor, or maybe...

Adrenaline's one hell of a drug, not that he recognizes the effect as it's coursing through him. Despite his exhaustion, he hops to his feet, sheathing his sword and heading towards the entrance to the tree. Now where did she go...?

[Merrill]

Thankfully for Carver, he has himself a very fine advantage in such things- a mabari pup, now three seasons and counting old, who likes Merrill just fine and eager to please his person. With only a hint of coaxing, the mabari swiftly leads Carver to the back of the Oak, where he can hear someone singing very softing in what sounds like an even more melodic and primal version of elven. Peeking around the roots, he spots Merrill laying on her back, uncaring of how her dress pulls up past her knees, as she plays tug-of-war with the tiny faerie dragon she had saved on her chest.

[Carver Amell]

"Merrill!" calls Carver, giddily, as he heads into the room. "What've you been up to? I missed you at practice," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

[Merrill]

Merrill yelps, curling into a protective ball around the dragonling, who lets out a shrill protest. A beat later and his voice registers and she freezes, staring at him. "C-C-Carver?" she stammers.

[Carver Amell]

He freezes likewise, startled by her yelp. "M-merrill?" he asks, hesitantly. 

[Merrill]

The elf ducks her head as she pulls herself into a sitting position. "S-ssss-sorry." Great, he finally wants to be around you and you spazz out and- Hunter, not sure what everyone is shouting about, rushes over to sniff and inspect her to be sure she's okay, which coaxes out a slight smile.