3rd of Midyear - Evening
The Haunted Tide Inn - Gilane
Another @Stormflyx and @Father Hank productionThe Innkeeper had done a fine job of patching the room back up from the last time she’d been in it. The paintings had found themselves back on the wall - the bed was fixed. It was as if she hadn’t been there at all. Only fragmented memories of the night remained now - her eyes scanned everything lazily as she reclined back in the chair, her legs propped over the arm as she relaxed into it.
She strummed her fingers over the other arm as she waited for Gregor. If he had even found her note. The thought that he hadn’t, and she would have to continue to wait agitated her and she groaned aloud to herself. It was getting late, the sun had already set. The cold night air crept in through the window and her bare thighs shivered. Her new clothes were taking some getting used to. For a start, they were black. A short dress, held in place by a leather belted corset, which had its own material fringing to at least make the bottom of the dress less immodest. around her middle which emphasised her hips. It was almost armour. Her shoulders and decolletage were bare and being kissed by the breeze too. She gave thanks for the boots that grazed above her knees. Not since she was a younger woman in High Rock had she worn such fine leatherwork, and unlike everything else she wore - there were no embellishments on this garment. Just fabric and leather, no bells or whistles - just simplicity. It felt refreshing to hide herself under it.
Time continued to drag on and she grew more impatient waiting. The voice in her head almost convincing her that Gregor had either not discovered the note, or tossed it aside. She squirmed at the thought - of the position she had put herself in by trusting that he would - and that he would even understand it in it’s kryptic nature… “Come on…” she muttered in a querulous fashion.
The door opened and Gregor entered, his strong frame casting a long shadow into the room. He was dressed in his new clothes, no trace left of the boogeyman in black that had forced Nblec to the ground, and he had two bottles of wine in his hands. “Raelynn,” he said as soon as he laid eyes on her, his voice slightly breathless, as if he was speaking a dream or a wish instead of just a name. For a split second he seemed frozen to the spot and then he moved quickly towards her, dumping the wine on a salon table he was sure they had destroyed the last time and embraced Raelynn tightly.
“What's the matter?” he asked, concern in his voice, releasing her to look her in the eye. “Why the secrecy?” He had found her note, which just said
’You know where to find me,’ and swiftly deduced the meaning. They knew each other well enough for that. What he did not know, however, was the need for such an illicit meeting.
As soon as he entered, her posture became rigid and she turned her face away from him as he embraced her. Despite becoming tense in her body, she still took a moment just to breathe him in, compose herself for this meeting. He smelt as he always did, like leather and steel - masculine and powerful. It helped her to release some of the anxiety she was bottling inside.
He brought wine… were her thoughts to herself as she looked at them on the table, some of her trepidations slipped away but she felt a pang of guilt. Still the Breton was silent as she pulled away from him, and made her way to the door.
She ensured that the door was closed by pushing against it, hearing it click into place before turning the key and removing it from the lock. Her hands shaking. “I just missed you…” She breathed out softly with her back to him. She took in a deep breath to ease the tremors before looking over her shoulder at him, key in hand. “I trust you’ve been well since last we met?” Part of her usual honeyed tone had returned and she made her way back over to him again - still refusing to meet his eyes.
“I’m fine,” Gregor said, thinking back to his meeting with Jaraleet. “Had an unpleasant conversation, but that was to be expected.” He felt how Raelynn had stiffened up when he touched her and he sank into a chair opposite her, slightly defeated. Something
was wrong. He could see it in everything except her eyes, for she avoided his gaze -- but that spoke volumes as well. Normally she couldn’t resist looking at him. He was glad he brought the wine. He uncorked one of the bottles and poured both of them a glass, not even bothering to ask Raelynn if she wanted any. He handed one of the drinks to her with a firmness in his gaze. “You are not your usual self, Raelynn. Drink up. Tell me. You know you can tell me anything, right?”
She absent-mindedly took the glass, swinging one leg over the other in her seat. “How unpleasant?” She asked coldly, looking through him with the glass pressed to her lips as she took a small sip. She shrugged her shoulders letting the wine swirl in the glass as she tilted it from left to right before downing it quickly, bringing the now empty glass back to the table. She leaned forwards to do so, her hair fell over one shoulder and at last she brought her eyes to meet his from below, an unsettling expression befell her as she moved out of the light and under his shadow. “Yes, we trust each other, don’t we?”
“Well, the conversation came close to turning dangerous, but Jaraleet and I… worked out our differences,” Gregor said, but his voice trailed off as he finished speaking. The look on Raelynn’s face was so intense it felt like a hand had wrapped itself around his throat when she moved closer to him. It hurt him to see her this way. “We do,” he said, lowering his voice, but pouring every ounce of sincerity in it. “Raelynn… honey, what happened to you?” It was the first time he had addressed her so affectionately, and it surprised even himself, but he could not help it. That was how he felt.
“Jaraleet has interesting methods,” she began pouring herself a second glass of wine when her arms began to shake once more. Whether it was nervousness or residual pain was unclear to her. It was hard to be dismissive towards him, to have a wall there between them but she didn't know what else to do. She took her glass to the window with her, wrapping one arm around herself as she peered out -- eyes flitting back and forth over the scene. “Was it really worth it? What we did to…” she meant Nblec, her head turned sharply to meet Gregor’s eyes once more. She couldn't look too long into them for they would surely undo her there and then. “Would you die to protect your secret? What would you do to stop the world finding out about it?” A menacing smile ran across her lips before she took a long sip from the glass, a spiteful glimmer in her eyes.
Gregor got to his feet and joined her by the window, taking a large sip of his own wine. He felt he was going to need it. This side of Raelynn, whatever it was, made Gregor uneasy, and while he failed to find the words he wanted to say, the other party that lurked inside his subconscious rose to the surface and took center stage instead, drawn to her sinister emotions. It was almost as if the room became perceptibly colder and the sounds of the city outside were drowned out by its arrival. Gregor’s expression changed, worry and concern slowly replaced by something far more insidious, and he took a deep breath before speaking.
“I will never die,” the Pale Reaper said, his tone languid and confident, but the malevolence was unmistakable. The uneven lighting shrouded half of his face in darkness and it looked like a death mask. “You ask what I would do?” He paused and leaned in to whisper in Raelynn’s ear.
”A-ny-thing… Whoever gets in my way will die, like Hannibal and his Vigilants. Anyone who tries to take what is mine… will die.” He planted a gentle kiss on her cheek before moving away, like a snake hovering over its prey. He looked at her intently, and chose his next words carefully. “You are mine, little one.”
A shrill cackle was all she could muster in response, “mmmm, you're wrong. He took me from you…” His shadow fell over her once more, and she felt a deep melancholy hit her - like the floor was moving beneath her and she was unable to decipher whether it was the wine she had consumed, or the feeling of spinning in Zaveed’s grip still. She could hear his words, feel his touch, her hands stung as she clenched and unclenched them, the leather of her gloves creaking was the only sound in the heavy silence of the room.
Seductively she made her way to him, unafraid, fingers tracing over her collarbones. “Gregor, all I need to do is scream for help and the entire fucking City Guard will come crashing down on you…” She giggled like a young girl, bringing her hands together in front of her. Her tone had been ominous but wavering, a great fear lingering beneath it. Now as she stood by him with her body pressing against his she knew she was playing with fire. She wanted him to feel the weight of her words.
He slowly wrapped his arms and her waist, his hands pressing against her lower back, bringing their bodies even closer together. “But you won’t,” he said softly. Gregor’s breathing was slow and deep and his brow had furrowed in anger. Not because of her empty threat, but because of what she said before that; someone had taken her. “Who?” he asked and his voice dripped with hate. “Who took you? Who hurt you?”
Raelynn couldn't fathom why he had fallen… soft, she was expecting him to hurt her - worryingly, part of her had wanted him to. His embrace now, it stopped her in her tracks and released the knot that had been tightening inside of her since her escape. She collapsed a little against him, the way his voice had penetrated her took her breath from her lungs. “He made me pay for Nblec, Number Two - the Khajiit.” To still not know his name, his face…
“But I didn't tell him anything…” she added after a moment's pause, bringing her hand against his cheek and falling into his eyes, they started to bring her the warmth she needed.
“A Khajiit? Of course the Dwemer would hire others to do their dirty work,” Gregor muttered, as much to himself as to Raelynn, but pushed the thought aside and focused on Raelynn. Her interrogation had been traumatic, that much was certain, and the sympathy and sorrow he felt for her plight pushed the Pale Reaper back into his box. Gregor kissed her, slowly and tenderly, and gave her the warmest smile he could muster. “You didn’t break? That’s impressive. You’re strong. I’m proud of you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you. I didn’t know…”
The way that he kissed her, and told her he was proud - it wasn't enough. It didn't make her feel better by much, he had to really see. Latro had understood immediately. A smile and affirmative words were not enough,
not from him. Still, she kissed him back deeply - savouring him. She really had missed him, she had needed him. “Picture me, Gregor,” she whispered, eyes locked onto his, “held still in place with a dagger to my throat - my only escape would be to utter your name and tell your secrets... His claws burrowed into my flesh, bleeding the truth out of me bit by bit... I looked death in the eye and I still did not betray you..." Her eyes were an ominous ocean of darkness.
She lifted her left hand slowly while she nipped the finger of the glove between her teeth, pulling her hand steadily away and revealing to him the mottled black and purple bruising in the centre of her palm - and the evidence of something having been pierced through the once delicate flesh. "I would have died for you, Gregor."
Gregor’s eyes widened at her words and the sight of her brutalized hand. The silence stretched on for seconds, only broken by a sharp intake of air as his body realized that he had stopped breathing. Wrath, pity, sadness and a dangerous, unfamiliar fourth emotion wrestled for control in Gregor’s heart and he broke the embrace, literally taken aback. “You would have....” he whispered, but he could not finish his sentence. Everything else faded away and his mind was clouded by one thing and one thing only: guilt, the one thing that he had always suppressed, no matter what he had done or what had happened. A dozen people had died at his hand to keep his secret and further his goals. And yet, this was so much worse. None of them had died
for him. “This Khajiit,” Gregor managed after swallowing hard. “He asked after me? He did
that to you, and you told him nothing?”
“He asked about Nblec, that's all. What I did to him, what we did to him. He asked me if he screamed.” Raelynn stepped back from Gregor, returning to her wine as Zaveed’s questions replayed in her head. “He knows it was us. I had to sell out my father's guard just to stop him from--” her voice tapered off into a whimper, and she wrapped her arms around herself again and gave Gregor a look of fear. “I mean it, he was about to slit my throat. The blade pierced me here,” she held a finger to where the knife had been - evidence of it having cut her gone thanks to magicka.
“It was terrifying. He just took me from the street - in daylight, Gregor.” The last of her second glass was consumed after a frightened intake of breath. Deciding not to drink anymore, she placed the empty glass back on the table with enough accidental force to shatter it - making her jump.
“He said he'd captured you… My paramour, that was how he described you.” Boldly she walked back to him, her hands grasping at the lapels of his shirt, “but I knew he was lying, the thought of you vanquishing him…” She pulled him into her, pressing her lips to his erratically.
He returned her kisses with ferocious passion, but passion turned into rage as he failed to process the guilt and the love he felt -- it was too much. This Khajiit, whoever he was, had gone way too far. Gregor pulled away and began to pace the length of the room with long strides, his face set to thunder, until he suddenly whirled around and looked at Raelynn. “Look at you,” he said, pain in his voice. “Look at you! You’re perfect, and I--”
love you so much, he wanted to say, but his voice faltered. He grabbed the second of bottle of wine and threw it against the wall with such great force that it painted the wood with crimson from floor to ceiling. “And he thinks he can take you from me and hurt you,” he hissed.
“Coward! You’re right, it was a lie, he never captured me. I haven’t even seen a single sign of him until now.” Beset by feverish urgency, Gregor closed the distance between himself and Raelynn and grabbed her hands. “What did he look like? What did he sound like? Did he say his name? Something, anything,” he stammered, torn between fury and the bizarre urge to break into tears.
His anger and rage had been what she had wanted all along, to see him become so savage over this - it was as though he had forgotten himself. Even though he had grabbed at her raw hands, she did not flinch from his touch - the sting that worked its way through from fingertip to elbow became pleasure as she felt his mania grow. Raelynn placed her thumbs on the backs of his hands and gently rubbed them, taking her place as caregiver now.
“I didn't see anything of him. He didn't want me to see him… He didn't tell me his name.” She almost felt bad that she had nothing identifying to tell him, he was so desperate for
anything to feed his lust for the Khajiit’s blood. “He had daggers-" she closed her eyes tightly, as if to conjure it back up. “He tied me at the wrist and to the chair,” - it clicked for her. Like a coin falling down a well and finally reaching the bottom. She laughed, in an uncomfortable manner. The kind of laugh that awkwardly follows bad news when one doesn't know how else to react. “The way he tied me! Those knots were almost too perfect, fisherman's knots, a professional of some kind...” How had it not yet occurred to her? The moment it did she felt like she held just a little power over him. But it wasn't a name, or a face, and so a feeling of defeat crumbled her spirit once more. “I'm sorry…”
“A sailor, perhaps,” Gregor said and sighed. “Or a pirate. That sounds like the type to shamelessly work with the Dwemer and terrorize women. Oh, Raelynn, come here.” He embraced her again and slowly ran his fingers through her hair while he kissed the top of her head. “Don’t be sorry.” His rage ebbed away and he felt like had done when he was a much younger man, comforting Briar after her grandmother died; all he wanted to do was make her feel better. Safe. Protected. “You survived. We know he’s out there now. There’s not much to go on, but I will hunt him down, mark my words,” Gregor cooed softly. “He is just the latest in a long line of monsters I have put down.”
“But I am… I could barely find the words to even tell you - I didn't want to.” Her expression and emotions were true - for Gregor to have found her weak and for it to ruin what they been building would have ended her. Yet here he was, swearing to avenge her, like she had hoped he would. Like she wanted him too.
“It's hard to be stripped back like this. I've never been here before. I'm glad I have you - everyone else… I have no doubt they'd sympathise....” A caliginous gloom surrounded her and the air became thin once again as it often would whenever the two of them would confide in their emotions, “they don't understand that he needs to
pay, and not in Septims - not even in blood.” Both of her hands sat on his cheeks as she stared at him fiercely. The words not needing to be said, he would know exactly what she meant.
“He should be so lucky,” Gregor said, catching on to Raelynn’s drift. “I’m not going to waste my master’s time with such a cowardly degenerate. His soul will power my blade and after that he can rot in the Cairn forever. As for how you felt, I meant it when I said that you can always talk to me about anything. You don’t have to be ashamed.” She looked and sounded more like her usual self now and he smiled at the sight. He glanced at the bed and then back at Raelynn. “Come, lay with me. Let’s make ourselves comfortable.”
She did as he asked, and moved to the bed with him, laying back in it with him. Her mind was shaken with the thought of Gregor using her tormentor’s soul like that. He would be there and then he would be gone - and that thought pleased her. That he would do it for her… Raelynn couldn't fathom the words to describe how close she felt to him. “Will you stay with me tonight? I don't want to be alone and I certainly don't want to share a room with the others just yet…” Her head fell onto the pillow and she almost allowed herself to be comfortable before she bolted back up again, “please don't go”. The way her eyes widened and the manner in which her desperate hands found him indicated that there was still a timidity and fear harbouring inside.
“It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere,” Gregor said and took her hands in his own, coaxing her to lay back down with him. “Look at me. There is nowhere I’d rather be than here, with you,” he whispered softly as he pulled her close. He had missed having her so close against him and he ran his right hand down her back, over her hips and down her bare thigh. “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.” He touched her cheek with his left hand and kissed her, before almost inaudibly breathing against her lips: “I love you.”
Her eyes sprung open - had he really said that? She had heard it. It was quiet but she had heard it, she had
felt it. Colour appeared on her face and she felt sixteen again. Never once had someone said…
Those words to her. Did he mean them? Her lower lip trembled as she tried to regain her composure but she couldn't. A surge of emotion ripped through her and while her heart was not ready to repeat his words back to him, for the very first time in her life she felt as though it was starting to beat for someone else besides herself. All she could do was show him how she felt about him now, and so she kissed him back in response. It was a slow and burning kiss, her tongue brushing over his while her body pressed against him too. No clawing, biting, or scratching - just passion ignited between them.
It was different this time. Gregor felt it too. This was a lover’s embrace, not the depraved fulfilment of their carnal desires, and his heart thundered in his chest as he moved to undress her -- but with patience and grace, savoring every moment, not frantically racing towards an animalistic climax. He had meant what he said. He might feel quite the fool the next morning, but for the time being all of his thoughts were laid low by the indescribable feeling of
belonging that made itself master of him. Gregor had not felt this way for more than ten years.
They would make love tonight.
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