~~~NUALA~~~
Nuala had drained her own cup of moonshine sometime after Jamie had gotten through his second chalice. The drink was incredibly potent and though it could not be said that Nuala was a lightweight when it came to alcohol, she was feeling considerably drunken.
She found herself swaying to the music of the harp and the sound of Jamie’s voice as it pierced through the air. With the moonshine running through her veins she found it easy to allow her body to lightly move from side to side along with the rhythm. Nuala was not familiar with the song or the melody, having never heard the like of it in the North (though it was very clear that it was a love song).
The song held good sentiment but it was something that Nuala was not at all used to. It made her wonder as to why the people of the South put so much stock into words to articulate themselves rather than they did actions. She was made uncomfortable by the verses; they brought up things which she had been dwelling upon and made her think of what exactly she herself felt for Jamie. Nuala was not sober enough to scowl properly (she settled for a look of mild irritation).
After the song was finished she sat there in an awkward moment of wanting to continue to sway along to it and not. When Jamie turned to talk to her Nuala listened to his words, unable to help but wonder if the moonshine had loosened his tongue into opening up about that which he felt inside. She shifted her weight and chewed on the inside of her cheek for a few seconds. She wanted to offer him some sort of comfort for his thoughts and for what he must be battling with in his mind.
Nuala was never good with words. There was only one thing which she felt like she could do and his subsequent talk of wine and food turning to ashes in his mouth made the decision for her.
“If wine and food turn to ashes in your mouth, then allow me to fix that.” She said. Nuala was not thinking, the moonshine having dulled her common sense and her tendency to never act recklessly. She did not pause first to think nor did she consider any repercussions as she shifted her body towards him. Her head tilted to one side as she stretched out to mold her mouth over his. If this were to be taken as her expressing that which she felt, then so be it. Apart from the one time back at the Red Keep when she had kissed his cheek after his moment of pity-driven anger, this was the first time she had kissed him.
“Now, go rest,” those were her first words as she pulled away from him. Nuala ran the tip of her tongue across her lips, tasting moonshine on them from both her mouth and that of Jamie. “Leave the judging for the Gods and the light for the day.” Nuala was not regretting her actions in the slightest.
~~~DANTE~~~
For the second time that day Dante had run into Nasrin. He had been heading over to the ground where, without a doubt, he was sure that he would see Ser Ulfred aiding Prince Raban in his training. Dante was technically still a guard of sorts but he had been keeping out of the way ever since the death of Queen Morgana. Dante could only hope that the King would honor his dead wife’s wishes at having their be a guard for their children and not end up hanging him out of sheer spite (due to the whole incident with Dante embedding a throwing knife in Lionel’s eye).
He rounded a corner and this time it was him who ran into her -- well, nearly. Dante had been able to stop himself at the very last second and instead ended up reaching out and grasping Nasrin by the arms to prevent himself from hurtling into her and knocking her over.
He was about to open his mouth and say something flirtatious when he noticed the red swelling of her cheek that very clearly indicated that she had been struck. Dante’s thoughts went immediately to the page boy that had been sent into the gardens to fetch Nasrin to a meeting with her father. Dante connected the two events immediately, after having heard Nasrin speak of how she despised her father and stepmother, he did not put it beyond Lord Cavendish to have slapped his daughter. The man now sounded to Dante as an even greater ass than he had first judged him to be.
“Are you alright?” Dante asked, not letting go of her as he narrowed his eyes to observe the damage done to her face. There would definitely be a welt and possibly bruising as well. “That is probably not the sort of thing you want to be asked right now. Do you wish for something to put on your cheek?”
He let go of her arms then but did not step back, keeping the space between them a small one. “If you’d like, I would be more than happy to shirk my duties and escort you for a walk. Fresh air would be nice, yes?” If he ever got his hands on this Lord Cavendish, Dante swore to himself that he would slap the man back so hard in return that the bastard's teeth would pop out all in one go. Then he would hit him again across the other cheek to make Lord Cavendish cough up his jawbone.
Nuala had drained her own cup of moonshine sometime after Jamie had gotten through his second chalice. The drink was incredibly potent and though it could not be said that Nuala was a lightweight when it came to alcohol, she was feeling considerably drunken.
She found herself swaying to the music of the harp and the sound of Jamie’s voice as it pierced through the air. With the moonshine running through her veins she found it easy to allow her body to lightly move from side to side along with the rhythm. Nuala was not familiar with the song or the melody, having never heard the like of it in the North (though it was very clear that it was a love song).
The song held good sentiment but it was something that Nuala was not at all used to. It made her wonder as to why the people of the South put so much stock into words to articulate themselves rather than they did actions. She was made uncomfortable by the verses; they brought up things which she had been dwelling upon and made her think of what exactly she herself felt for Jamie. Nuala was not sober enough to scowl properly (she settled for a look of mild irritation).
After the song was finished she sat there in an awkward moment of wanting to continue to sway along to it and not. When Jamie turned to talk to her Nuala listened to his words, unable to help but wonder if the moonshine had loosened his tongue into opening up about that which he felt inside. She shifted her weight and chewed on the inside of her cheek for a few seconds. She wanted to offer him some sort of comfort for his thoughts and for what he must be battling with in his mind.
Nuala was never good with words. There was only one thing which she felt like she could do and his subsequent talk of wine and food turning to ashes in his mouth made the decision for her.
“If wine and food turn to ashes in your mouth, then allow me to fix that.” She said. Nuala was not thinking, the moonshine having dulled her common sense and her tendency to never act recklessly. She did not pause first to think nor did she consider any repercussions as she shifted her body towards him. Her head tilted to one side as she stretched out to mold her mouth over his. If this were to be taken as her expressing that which she felt, then so be it. Apart from the one time back at the Red Keep when she had kissed his cheek after his moment of pity-driven anger, this was the first time she had kissed him.
“Now, go rest,” those were her first words as she pulled away from him. Nuala ran the tip of her tongue across her lips, tasting moonshine on them from both her mouth and that of Jamie. “Leave the judging for the Gods and the light for the day.” Nuala was not regretting her actions in the slightest.
~~~DANTE~~~
For the second time that day Dante had run into Nasrin. He had been heading over to the ground where, without a doubt, he was sure that he would see Ser Ulfred aiding Prince Raban in his training. Dante was technically still a guard of sorts but he had been keeping out of the way ever since the death of Queen Morgana. Dante could only hope that the King would honor his dead wife’s wishes at having their be a guard for their children and not end up hanging him out of sheer spite (due to the whole incident with Dante embedding a throwing knife in Lionel’s eye).
He rounded a corner and this time it was him who ran into her -- well, nearly. Dante had been able to stop himself at the very last second and instead ended up reaching out and grasping Nasrin by the arms to prevent himself from hurtling into her and knocking her over.
He was about to open his mouth and say something flirtatious when he noticed the red swelling of her cheek that very clearly indicated that she had been struck. Dante’s thoughts went immediately to the page boy that had been sent into the gardens to fetch Nasrin to a meeting with her father. Dante connected the two events immediately, after having heard Nasrin speak of how she despised her father and stepmother, he did not put it beyond Lord Cavendish to have slapped his daughter. The man now sounded to Dante as an even greater ass than he had first judged him to be.
“Are you alright?” Dante asked, not letting go of her as he narrowed his eyes to observe the damage done to her face. There would definitely be a welt and possibly bruising as well. “That is probably not the sort of thing you want to be asked right now. Do you wish for something to put on your cheek?”
He let go of her arms then but did not step back, keeping the space between them a small one. “If you’d like, I would be more than happy to shirk my duties and escort you for a walk. Fresh air would be nice, yes?” If he ever got his hands on this Lord Cavendish, Dante swore to himself that he would slap the man back so hard in return that the bastard's teeth would pop out all in one go. Then he would hit him again across the other cheek to make Lord Cavendish cough up his jawbone.