Tower of Drapt’na’at (the Kings residence)

[Jon Smith]

He could not help but smile as he watched her, looking into her eyes as they were shyly cast downward. The way her embarrassment colored her cheeks was so adorable, and he found himself endeared to her because of it. And it seemed that the more nervous she became, the more confident he was with the knowledge that it was his words and his eyes that made her heart quicken so. Not much time had passed since the shattering of his heart by Rachelle, it was still on the mend it seemed, but he would be delighted to share this maiden's company if for nothing more than companionship. If something more, something wonderful even, became of it, then so be it. It was too soon, by far, to have such thoughts anyway.

His eyes followed her hand as it moved to smooth her skirt, his gaze lingering there to take in the sight of her curves accentuated by the dress before slowly moving upward to take in yet more curves as he gazed upon her sweater and the bosom it hid. By the time his eyes reached her own yet again, his cheeks had flushed a deep karikrimson as he realized yet again that he had been staring, once more overcome by her beauty. If he could only stand here for an eternity and gaze upon her, then he would be content and consider his life fulfilled. Already the moment seemed to stretch on before she finally moved to step into the hall.

Pulling his sky blue cloak closer about him, feeling the chill in the air, Jon walked to step through the doorway and stand next to Feyla, his cheeks yet possessing the faintest hint of a rosy hue. But he smiled at her nonetheless, despite his nervousness and embarrassment, and bowed his head to her once again. "Lead on my lady, and I will follow. Do you mind if we converse as we walk? I would like to hear more of King Araman, I am to be his biographer after all."

[Khel]

Feyla

Jon’s attire was simple, like her own. Feyla wondered where he hailed from, to be so kind and decent, yet so strange. She felt his eyes on her and could not slow the palpitations of her heart. In the hall, she let out a deep, shaky breath before looking up with a small smile when Jon readily joined her. He asked for her to lead the way, and to be told of the King. A biographer? He was to write of the King’s life…. Why, that would take some time, wouldn’t it? Feyla looked at Jon curiously and with the light of excitement in her eyes, but quickly averted her gaze again and led the way down the hall and toward the stair.

Her steps she took in contemplative silence. Upon reaching the door, she pulled it slowly open, and as she waited for Jon to step through before her—as he should—she spoke quietly, ”I’m afraid I do not know much of our King, Jon. Of course I’ve seen him about the Tower, I have brought him a meal weekly at the very least… but I have never truly spoken with him.” With her eyes locked on the downward staircase Feyla added, ”I’m sure you could imagine why, with my hesitancy to even speak with you. But he is a noble ruler, and his decisions wise.”

The truth was, Feyla knew almost nothing about the King’s decisions, but the ruler hadn’t sent their city into ruin or turmoil that the girl knew of. Actually, she did not know much outside the Tower of Drapt’na’at. Worry etched into her young face as she thought of what information she could provide Jon. None. That was the honest truth.

[Jon Smith]

His heart stopped. He could think of no other way to describe it. His heart stopped and he passed from this world into a higher plane of existence, mesmerized by her smile, entranced by the hope that shone within it. Hope stirred his own heart as it jolted back to life, beating furiously within his chest as it threatened to burst free from the cage that bound it. And it only quickened all the more as she once again looked at him with those gorgeous brown orbs. Thoughts fled with such eyes upon him, becoming sluggish as they failed to materialize at all.

Slowly he inhaled as she looked away again, breathing deep in an attempt to relax. Confusion was writ large in his features as she opened a door and held it open for him, apparently waiting for him to step through first. He could only stand there dumbfounded for a moment, his eyes curiously locked onto her own as he considered. The customs of these Remusians were foreign to him; as the gentleman he should be the one holding the door open for her, not the other way around. Had he known the layout of the tower, then he would have moved to open the door before she had a chance to. But with a small shake of his head he stepped through the door and waited for her to follow. He would do his best to adhere to these strange customs, so long as they did not greatly violate his own sense of honor.

He listened intently as she spoke, momentarily focusing on more than the melodious tones of her voice. His thoughts were awhirl within his mind as Jon contemplated the nature of this King. It should not surprise him that a serving girl knew little of him; only the highest ranking officials such as Sir Allemedo would be privy to seeing the King as anything other than a ruler. But still, the ones that worked for a man, even the lowliest of servants, were often a good source of information about him. He just supposed that Feyla was not in the King's presence often enough to truly know anything, and he wondered if any servant was.

His thoughts were interrupted as his gaze flickered to the beautiful maiden standing next to him, noting the worry in her expression. It had not been his intent to cause such worry within the girl; it really wasn't that important of a matter if she knew nothing useful about the King. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he smiled reassuringly at her, his hazel eyes lighting up with his smile. His voice was soft as he spoke in an attempt to further console the girl. "Don't worry about knowing much about the King; I will know more than my fair share before long, it is the nature of my work after all. But there is someone else I would know more about. Someone more important to me than the King at this present moment." His eyes locked on her own as he spoke the last word. "You."

Almost immediately he bit down on his lower lip and blushed furiously, looking away after so bold a move, speaking again yet without the confidence that had infused his voice only a moment ago. "My apologies Feyla. I barely know you, and here I am, flirting with a pretty face. I meant no offense."

[Khel]

Feyla

Feyla sighed in relief as Jon stepped through the door. She was not prepared to fight all the customs she knew for this visitor. Although it did look like his visit would be lengthy. As they moved down the stair, he smiled at her and Feyla listened as she dreaded that fatal word- you Her furious blush could not be hidden, and it seemed Jon was quite as embarrassed as she was. Quickly he tried to remedy the situation, but in Feyla’s mind it only made it worse. Just flirting with a pretty face? Seemed like something he accidentally did on many occasions. However, he did seem sincere, and Feyla digressed it was extremely flattering.

Reaching the bottom and again opening the door for Jon, Feyla stepped into the hall after him and she said, ”We will have to go through the kitchen into the hall, there is another entrance, but it is used for the King’s grande feasts. Guests enter that way.” Reaching up to smooth a wavy brown lock, Feyla wondered if she could ignore his request—and his apology—and feel right about it. No, she could not. He asked and she felt it was her duty to answer.

"And please, do not apologize. I will be serving you during your stay, it is better for a friend to serve than a stranger. What is it you wish to know, Jon?” Feyla kept her eyes forward, just a half step behind Jon as they walked down the hall together. The kitchen was approaching on their left, and the warm glow accompanied with the familiarity of the hall kept her nerves somewhat at bay. What was the harm in a friendly lunch and good conversation? Glancing wistfully at Jon again, Feyla greatly hoped there was none at all.

[Jon Smith]

His own blush only worsened as her cheeks flushed, his own hot with embarrassment. His eyes looked anywhere and everywhere but at her, apparently taking the opportunity to admire the architecture surrounding them, a nervous smile upon his lips. As his gaze remained on the walls around them and the ceiling above, his feet lost all claim to grace, occasionally stumbling on the stairs as he smiled nervously at Feyla before furiously glaring at his feet. He was just a nervous wreck at this point.

Upon reaching the door, his sureness of foot seemed to reassert itself, his feet once more on level ground. It helped that his eyes were taking in the sight of the new hall, thus distracting him from his nervousness. But his gaze went to her again as she spoke, finally garnishing enough courage to allow his eyes to linger upon her lips as she spoke. Yet for once his thoughts were not romantic, trying his best to focus on her instructions for reaching the dining hall to stave off his own nervousness. Were he to imagine kissing those full ginger lips, then there would be no end to his embarrassment.

A sigh of relief fell from his lips at her refusal of his apology, reassured that he had not yet overstepped any bounds. Still, it was clear to him that he had to make some attempt at controlling himself, as usual, or the girl would be scared away before he ever had the chance to even befriend her. As they walked down the hall toward the kitchen, Jon slowed his steps to walk more alongside her instead of slightly to the front, unaccustomed to anyone treating him in such a manner. His voice was soft as he spoke, and he stole a glance at her. "I want to know your background I suppose, about your life growing up if you will. Your customs are... strange to me. And I'm guessing that you're more than a little curious about me as well; I'm happy to answer any questions you might have." Nervously he reached up with one hand to run a hand through his thick brown hair, his fingers accentuating its blonde highlights.

[Khel]

Feyla

As Jon spoke to her, he seemed relieved that she was not offended. Smiling confidently, Feyla led the way through the kitchens and into the dining hall. A long stone table stood magnificently filling the room with many seats surrounding it. At the head, a throne-like chair obviously belonged to the king, and at each end of the room a large fireplace crackles and sent a warm glow throughout.

Choosing the opposite end than the King’s seat, Feyla approached it and indicated two seats, side by side. It was close to the fire, warm and inviting, shedding a lovely glow onto Jon’s face, accentuating the highlights in his hair, dancing in his hazel eyes. Color swept over Feyla’s fair skin as she took him in again, and quickly busied herself, pulling out his seat and her own.

Standing with her hands placed on the chair’s back, Feyla said softly, ”Our customs are simple enough, Jon. We are a simple people. My life and my mother’s life before mine were spent in this Tower, serving our King. Dull, really, although I don’t mind my duties at all… I’d much rather hear of yours. Where do you hail from, and how do your customs differ? I know almost nothing of anywhere other than Remusiat…” trailing off, Feyla’s brown eyes widened and her blush once again deepened as she realized the gibberish spilling from her mouth. Placing a slender hand on her cheek, she chuckled nervously and inclined her head.

”I am sorry, there is so much I do not know… what would you like for your meal?” Indicating the seat again, Feyla urged him to sit. She was forgetting her duties and her manners once again, caught up in what this intriguing man had to say.

[Jon Smith]

With her smile bloomed hope in his trembling heart, a flower blossoming with petals upturned to the rising sun. It rose through him, overwhelming his senses, intoxicating him with the very sight of her beauty. His eyes had not the willpower to look away as they entered the dining hall, scarcely noticing the long table or the ornate chair that dominated it. What was the grandeur of a king's dining hall compared to the simple elegance of the smile of a fair maiden? The heat of the fireplace matched the heat rising in his cheeks as he stepped closer to the chairs she indicated, blushing all the more upon noticing the crimson that flushed her cheeks.

Again, he could only halt in momentary confusion as she held out his chair for him, much as he should be for her. One of these days he would have to show her how a gentleman treated a lady, and he smiled at the thought of more time spent with the beautiful Feyla, the smile softly tugging the corners of his lips up, gracing him with a quiet confidence. He stepped even closer to her as she spoke, moving to take the seat she offered, willing to adhere to her strange customs if only to be near her. But he paused as he listened to her speak, entranced by the melodious tones of her voice, her accent so different from his own. The smile remained upon his lips as he gazed upon her, a twinkle of merriment shining in his eyes.

He nodded to confirm that he had heard before taking his seat, leaning his head backward over its back as he gazed up into her eyes, his own glowing golden in the firelight. It was an intimate position, to have her standing over him so, and he could not help but smile all the more, though a faint rosy hue remained to his cheeks, not entirely over his embarrassment. "I cannot imagine a life within these walls. Do you not dream of something more? I dream with words, with every mark of my quill upon parchment. If I did not dream, then I would not truly be alive."

The smile faded entirely as he cast his gaze downward at the table, speaking loud enough to be heard yet no longer looking in her direction. Savagely he bit down on his lower lip, his eyes moistening despite all his efforts to maintain control. He would not have her see the pain that flashed in his eyes upon thinking of his home, but it made itself known in his voice all the same. "I hail from Milkengrad, a city far to the south. A more beautiful city built by man there is not in this world, and by her White Wall the jewel of the Helcrani is kept ever safe. But for all her grandeur, there is no beauty for me within those walls, no reason to ever return." After a soul searing battle, of fighting to regain control over the emotions raging within him, the smile returned as Jon looked at Feyla again, sheepishly wiping his eyes, a light chuckle rising from his lips. "Serve me whatever you think is best; I don't even know what Remusians eat."

[Khel]

Feyla

Feyla listened politely as Jon sat, and spoke. First, he gazed upward, such a handsome visage in the firelight. Feyla tried to tear her eyes away, but finally settled upon staring directly upon him. Was it so wrong? Did she dream of something more? Certainly not. What more could she ask for? She was clothed and provided for her entire life. ”A dreamer I am, Jon. But I dream of the life I already possess, I need nothing more. To many, my life is a dream in itself. I have truly been blessed.” But was it enough, or had she simply been forced to believe it was enough?

Her voice was quiet as she answered, for she saw him gaze now at the table. Sidestepping, Feyla tried to see the man’s face, but could not get a clear view. She listened as he spoke of a home he would not return to. When he looked at her again, he wiped his eyes and emitted a small chuckle. Asking to be served however she thought best, Feyla inclined her head and started towards the kitchen. Her mind raced, however, and she only took a few steps before turning back. Kneeling beside him and daring to put a slender-fingered hand on his knee, Feyla said, ”Jon, whatever happened in Milkengrad to cause you anguish will be washed away. You may soon find another place to welcome you, one which you can also call home.”

Feyla looked at the man for only a moment longer before bustling away and into the kitchen. What drove her to say that? Why in the name of Kor’och did she touch him? Shaking her head, she requested a meal for two and stood uneasily in the kitchen, biting her lip. The cooks soon provided Feyla with two plates containing a fair portion of pinnip meat, cooked to perfection. She stopped to fill and artfully carry two mugs of water in one hand, while balancing the plates on the other arm. Steam rose from the plates as Feyla carefully carried them back into the dining hall. Pausing at the door, she wondered if her actions previously had been too much.

Taking a deep breath, the simple girl strode lightly back down the row of chairs. Stepping beside Jon, Feyla placed the water down, then she lowered first his plate, followed by her own, onto the table. The sound of plates hitting stone in the silence was almost deafening to Feyla’s overly-anxious ears. She sat lightly and stared hard at the meat before her in absolute horror of what the man would think, and what he would say next.

[Jon Smith]

She was a strange one, to him at least, content where she was and not dreaming of something more. If only he could find such contentment. Instead he was always dreaming of something more, of what lay beyond the next horizon. His writing could only encompass what he knew and what he could dream up, and yet even his own dreaming was not enough. He had to actually see it and live it and then transfer that experience into writing with a flair of his own. He would stagnate in the life she led, in a life encompassed by only four walls, ignorant of the world beyond.

It occurred to him then that perhaps he had signed on for that very life, a life cooped up in this tower recording the life of a king he didn't even know. He would have to ask her, or someone, about the possibility of exploring the city and going out for a night of fun. Otherwise he would be suffocated by these four walls. But then, he didn't know his way around the city, surely he'd need a guide. So far he knew only Feyla and Sir Allemedo; the maiden was clearly the more attractive guide of the two. It was an interesting prospect, one he might suggest to her if he thought the moment right.

His reverie was interrupted by her voice as he turned his head, surprised to find her kneeling by his side, her hand on his knee. Eyes wide with surprise, he bit down on his lower lip, his cheeks blushing furiously. It was an intimate gesture, one he had not expected and yet did not wholly reject. He could feel his eyes tearing up again, looking away, not daring to hope that he could find a second home here, one where he would truly belong as he had never in his first. By the time he regained his composure and looked to her again, she was gone.

He had a few moments to think to himself as she bustled about the kitchen, and in those moments doubt overcame him. Why had she fled his presence so? Was she only embarrassed? Or had he scared her away already? Story of his life, he was constantly scaring away women it seemed as they learned they could live without him. He was not so sure he could live without them; one of these days he was bound to be heart broken and remain that way. Maybe romance would find him once again, and maybe it would break him yet again.

He looked to her as she set down his plate and sat down next to him. With every fiber of his being he wanted to turn to her, to engage her in conversation, but for the life of him he hadn't a clue what to say after her display. For once, a writer, one gifted with words, was speechless. He took a sip of his water before sheepishly looking at her, speaking softly, still blushing, saying the only thing that would come to mind at the moment. "Uhm, thank you for the sentiment. I don't quite know how to respond to it, but it is appreciated." He looked away again, still blushing as he tore off a strip of the meat and began to eat, almost immediately moaning in delight at the taste.

[Khel]

Feyla

Feyla stared hard into her plate, trying to remember his face as she left he hall. Was he upset? Frightened? …delighted? She did not know, and she could not force herself to look at him now. Taking a bite of the meat, Feyla chewed happily, for it was delicious. Pinnip meat was always a favorite of hers, and by the sound of Jon’s chewing as well, he liked it too. Fidgeting her feet under the table, Feyla knew she must say something.

”Jon, I am sorry, I spoke of what I do not know.” She had. She knew nothing of Milkengrad, nor of the depth of the hurt that was inside him. It was her place to serve him as the rest of the Tower’s inhabitants, and nothing more. Pushing her thick brown locks over her shoulder, Feyla took a sip of water. The fire was warm, the Tower was a comfortable home for her. She should not expect him to understand the life she had here, he did not need to. As soon as his duties were finished, he would leave, but Feyla belonged here for life.

Raising her eyes to look at him again Feyla said softly and carefully, ”I will escort you to your room and find Sir Allemedo as soon as we are finished here, he will know when you will see the King.” She paused, taking another gulp of water, but returned her eyes to his hazel orbs, ”Is the meal satisfactory?” Feyla did not dare smile again. She felt she had already crossed enough boundaries with a stranger for one day

[Jon Smith]

Some unspoken boundary had been crossed it seemed as they sat in an awkward silence. They had moved too quickly, by far, her sentiment was one of a lover and not a newly met friend. It almost seemed as though she promised that Remusiat would be his new home, that he would belong here and find contentment as he had never before. But to belong to any one place was to tie himself there, to bind himself to a mundane existence. A part of him, a large part, wanted that with all the hope that remained within him. A wife and family was his dream, with someplace to call home. But another part needed to always be free, to wander as a leaf upon the wind, and he knew not which desire would win out.

Finally her voice broke the silence, and he turned his head to look upon her once more. It pained him to see her so uncomfortable and to know that he was the source of her discomfort. With all his heart he wished they could be as they were moments ago, bashful yet relaxed enough to converse with one another. He missed her smile and her gentle laughter. But the words had been spoken and could not be taken back. What moved her to say such a thing; Jon did not know but could only hope that it was a budding fondness for him, that in time she would come to care for him, even as only a friend. A small smile illuminated his face at that thought, his eyes alight. It was not a beaming grin, but it was there nonetheless.

He took another sip of his water as he listened to Feyla speak, caught up in the very sound of her voice and nearly missing out on the words entirely. But with a small shake of his head he cleared his mind, hearing enough to know of her intentions. Just as it seemed he was thinking with clarity once more, his gaze became lost in her soft brown eyes, uncertain now where they once were confident and caring. He could not leave things as they were, could not allow this wall between them to remain. The smile remained on his lips as he looked to her, reaching to take one of her hands in his own, his gaze boldly locked on her face. “Please, do not apologize. You did not offend me. Nothing would offend me more than to hear you apologize needlessly.” His gaze swept back to the meal before him for a moment before returning to the maiden. “Aye, it is more than satisfactory, it’s wonderful. I am in your hands Feyla; I will follow where you lead.”

[Khel]

Feyla

Feyla somehow forgot the rudimentary art of breathing. All her focus honed in on each point where their skin touched and her eyes grew wide in awe at his bold move. She thought she had deeply offended him… but this? She thought he said he liked the meal. Not so sure, she only nodded, unable to move for breaking this intimate moment. Feyla barely knew him, but his kindness was beyond anything she had expected or imagined. She was rarely around boys her age, it was a wonder he had some here at all. Perhaps Kor’och had truly blessed her this time around. Perhaps she didn’t need to be a dreamer, only a hopeful woman content in the life she lived.

Clearing her throat softly, Feyla flushed karikrimson again and gave Jon’s hand a little squeeze before breaking their contact. Her slender hand suddenly felt like ice. It took a few moments before she regained full control over her own appendage, and she moved it to bump clumsily into her water. Her face scrunched in embarrassment, Feyla managed to place the mug to her lips and took a long gulp, attempting to calm her shaken nerves. Finally looking into Jon’s eyes again, Feyla managed a warm smile… perhaps a bit too broad and a little too affectionate.

Brushing her hair from her face, Feyla said softy, ”I am truly happy you’re enjoying your meal. Pinnip always warms me, although I hardly notice the cold anymore.” Taking a bite and savoring the flavor of the meat, Feyla wished her hand would quit trembling before the meat fell away from her mouth and back to the plate. She would look incredibly foolish. Swallowing, she continued, ”When you’re finished I will find Sir Allemedo, however, for I’m afraid if I steal you away your entire stay you will not be paid nearly as well.” Feyla let out a little chuckle. She had to admit, to herself at least, she would not mind stealing him away. Not at all. He was brought here to perform a specific duty, though, and she should not hinder that. 

[Jon Smith]

A soft whimper escaped his lips as he bit down on his lower lip, unable to contain the joy soaring through him as she squeezed his hand. All of his feelings were focused on that one hand as the rest of him was momentarily forgotten, vaguely aware of a head swimming in conflicting emotions, disoriented by their brunt force. The whimper became a sigh of disappointment as she withdrew his hand, yet the smile remained upon his lips. It was a moment before he pulled back his own hand, gazing at it as if to ascertain that it was real.

His own cheeks flushed crimson as he watched her, unable to help the smile to cross his lips at the sight of her embarrassed clumsiness. But Jon looked away to hide his own embarrassment and rosy cheeks, bringing his glass up to his lips in an attempt to hide the wide grin that fought to reveal itself. The cool water helped to calm his nerves as his eyes occasionally flickered to her before returning to the meal before him, mesmerized by even the slightest glance of her beauty.

Finally, he managed some degree of composure as he turned his head to fully gaze upon her once more, only to find her already looking at him. At the sight of her warm smile, illuminating her eyes and his life, his heart sang, beating faster in an increased tempo as it seemed to leap into his throat entirely, staving off any words he might speak. So he could only nod in response to her, saddened that he would be leaving her presence so soon. Yet it comforted him to know that he would see her again, possibly quite often as they both worked in the tower.

As she finished speaking, he finally managed to find the words that struggled to burst free of his lips. A beaming grin that he could not help lit up his face, revealing a dimple in his right cheek, as he spoke, his eyes cast downward at the floor in embarrassment. "Perhaps later you could show me around the city? I am new here and in need of a guide." His grin faded a bit as he continued. "But for now, you're right, I need to get to work. Oh, and I've finished my meal."

He stood then, pushing in his chair before moving to stand next to hers, proffering a hand, intending to help the lady stand as any gentleman should. "I'm afraid you'll have to lead me for a little while longer; I'm quite sure I'd be lost without you."

[Khel]

Feyla

Show him the city? Of course she would! The idea seemed to Feyla to be the sweetest thing ever uttered to her from another’s lips. She would love to spend more time with him, talk and get to know him better. Jon was foreign and interesting to her, but simple and kind. Surely his mind was more complex than she could ever imagine. She could not help but smile broadly as she thought of meaning behind his words. Scolding herself inwardly, Feyla knew she could expect nothing to come of their friendship, but her thoughts continued to wander against her wishes.

Feyla looked at Jon curiously as he stood, pushed in his chair, and faced her, holding out his hand. Slowly she put her own in it and stood gracefully, eyes lowered humbly before him. She murmured her thanks, although his actions were unknown to her, and looked him in the eye again. ”I will lead you back to your room, then summon Allemedo to introduce you to the king..” hesitating a moment, Feyla said quietly, ”Thank you for allowing me to dine with you, it was much more enjoyable than dining alone again.”

Her words spoke a profound truth, and as if to emphasize this, Feyla held fast to Jon’s hand unconsciously, even as she began to exit the hall. As she reached the length of their jointed arms, she stopped short and quickly dropped it, blushing furiously and looking at him apologetically. If she did not cease her silliness she would not be able to look him full in the face again! Smiling boldly once more, she opened the door to the kitchen for him and said, ”Of course I’d be delighted to show you the city! Although... you’ll have to forgive me, I haven’t been around it all that often myself…” Her words came out in soft embarrassment, as she knew she should know her own city very well. Hopefully he would not think less of her for it.

Leading him out into the hall and walking at a leisurely pace down towards the door to the staircase, Feyla walked in contemplative silence. Her duties for the remainder of the day ran through her mind, tumbling over various thoughts involving the man following her. Also stumbling over his quarters being in the same hall as hers, his blush, his hazel eyes locking on hers and his equally intimate response to her bold move. Trying to shake her head clear, Feyla almost bumped directly into Allemedo himself.

Taking a quick step back, Feyla inclined her head in greeting and said, ”Sir, I was going to ask for you. Jo.. oh, Mr. Smith has eaten in our hall and wishes to begin in work.” She hoped the elderly man would not mind or even ask about the time since his departure from them, but she had suspected from the start what the twinkle in his old eyes meant. Glancing back at Jon, Feyla smiled a gentle smile and held out a slender arm to indicate Allemedo, ”Sir Allemedo will lead you now, Mr. Smith, I will take my leave. I will return whenever you need me.” Feyla tried to say more with her eyes, but at the same time kept her eye contact with him at a minimum. She was worried that too close of a relationship developing between them would be looked down upon, even abhorred. Worry rippled through her smooth features but she reminded herself he would still be here when she returned, this afternoon, and for nigh a month at least.

(ooc: I like that avatar, Jon)

[Jon Smith]

(OOC: Thanks, I'm glad you do.)

The hope that had bloomed within him only grew and blossomed even more as she smiled at him, returning her smile with an impish grin of his own. Oh how he looked forward to this evening, when he would be able to spend more time in the maiden's pleasant company. He was also eager to see the city itself, but it was far more important that Feyla be the one to show it to him. An evening spent in her presence was the most pleasant way to spend his day that he could think of, even if they only talked and got to know each other better. He had to admit a curiosity about her life in general and about her, surely there was more to it than this tower, more to her. And he was dying to hear her lilting laughter once more, a tune more fair than the song of birds, or so it was to his infatuated ears.

He regained some control over his composure and his smile, reining in his excitement, as she stood and accepted his hand. With his arm he guided her free of the table, smiling at her all the while, pleased to have such a beautiful maiden on his arm. No, pleased to have Feyla on his arm. Her every word and reaction drew him in, mesmerizing him with her every blush, smile, and word to fall from those ginger lips. His gaze focused on those lips as they walked, his mind overcome with a desire to kiss them. But now was not the time, and this was not the place. If he was to kiss her, it had to be in a time and place of his choosing, one suitable for their shared infatuation. And he was certain by now that she liked him, her eyes alone said that much.

But he could not help the chuckle that escaped his lips as she began to walk away from him, still clutching to his hand, apparently intent upon dragging him with her before she realized that she had yet to release him. Her blush only made him laugh harder as a twinkle of merriment danced in his eyes. He steeled himself to contain his mirth as she glanced back at him, not wishing to appear that he was laughing at her, though he surely had been. He stepped through the kitchen door before her as she held the door, becoming accustomed to her traditions, though he remained somewhat uncomfortable with them as they contradicted all that he had been taught of manners. The impish grin returned as she spoke, becoming even wider to see her smiling so, delighted by her own delight at the evening they would share in the city.

A response to her acceptance was forming in his mind, undoubtedly to reassure her of how honored he would be to have her as a guide, as they bumped into none other than Sir Allemedo himself. Despite himself, Jon could not help the frown that unpleasantly curled his lips downward. It was not that he disliked the advisor, he rather liked him actually, but he frowned to see his time with Feyla coming to an end, even if it was only for a few hours. Of course he knew there was work to be done, namely the writing of the King's biography, but he could not help but wish that he could tarry with Feyla a while longer. He knew that while he was performing the task for which he had been hired, his thoughts would remain with her and the evening they planned. It saddened him all the same to hear those words he knew were forthcoming, namely that she was taking her leave. But a small smile was upon his lips as he turned to her, again taking her hand in one of his own, lifting it to his lips, gracing the back of her hand with a soft kiss as his eyes gleamed golden. His voice was soft as he spoke, barely above a whisper. "Until tonight Feyla. I look forward to exploring the city with you."

Turning back to face Sir Allemedo, he respectively bowed his head, the smile still upon his lips. He had not meant to frown earlier and hoped the advisor had not taken offense. "Hello again Sir Allemedo. I am ready to begin however you see fit." It was only after he finished speaking that he realized he yet held onto the maiden's hand, abashedly releasing it as he blushed deeply and glanced at her.

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