The Chessboard (Izdihar & Ifran)

[Ifran]

"Strength does indeed," he agreed, having allowed her previous question to go unanswered. If she were an enemy of his Noble House by virtue of his grandfather's triumph, there was little he could do to change her mind, at least in the short term. But politics made for strange bedfellows, and he knew there was a potential for collaboration between them, whether they became bedfellows in the figurative or literal sense, or both. They had stopped at his family's palace, for he hadn't the gall to invite himself into hers. There was too much respect within him for that. As they debarked the palanquin, he watched without seeming to do so, not really expecting a tell from her. Instead he led her inside, continuing their small talk dance until they were in the proper room, a sitting room laid out per his requirements. He left her in the middle of the room, standing, while he slipped behind an elaborately carved ebonwood screen. There came a sleepy murr, and then he reappeared with a little ball of fluff with a thread-of-gold ribbon tied into a loose bow around its neck. It yawned adorably as he approached, clearly used to Ifran and comfortable. It blinked at Izdihar, however, with the unabashed wonder of the very young. Then it yawned again. "A pet," he said, "for you."

[Izdihar]

"Gods love us," Izdihar breathed while watching Ifran emerge from behind the screen with what had to be the most adorable creature beneath the bowl of heaven. They were but three words, plea or fact, expression of surprise or humor, lacking an under mode, unaccompanied by shrewd smile or guiltless guile. They were, for that, the more genuine thing she had uttered in the Northwinder's presence, maybe in anyone at all's, for years. "For me?" It was silly, that question, and uncharacteristic for it. Of course the sand kitten was for her. Had Ifran not just said so? This was a thing that ought be handled with so much better grace and politesse, but instead the Painted Face was dissolving with childish delight and a hint of wonder as Izdihar quite literally bounced forward while reaching out careful, yearning hands for the adorable ball of fluff cradled in Ifran's own. "What's her name? His name? Where ever did you find it? Ifran, he's precious. Can I hold it? How dear." Rook to e-5. Check.

[Ifran]

"For you," he agreed, his words stripped of subtlety. They met in the middle, his hands cradling, hers reaching out in maternal supplication. He brought the kitten up to nuzzle with his mouth, a farewell of sorts, and presented it to her with a stagy flourish. His smile was genuine enough, bemused, contented. "His name I leave up to you, Izdihar." He molded her name with all the nuanced poetry it contained. "There was a litter in the menagerie, and this little one chose me, but I knew there was someone who would love him better. I am too frequently away from home to give him proper attention and there... You are the more delighted, and this pleases me." Once she had the lovely thing in her arms, he took a respectful step back. It was not even an overture, this gift, but a gesture of goodwill, the first step of diplomacy. If that was checkmate, then they were the both of them in deep trouble.

[Izdihar]

For once, the mirage broker with the innocent eyes was not in the least bit guarded. Rather she was bouncing on the tips of her toes like a small child, causing the pear lined hem of her gown to flutter and flounce. The kitten blinked widely at her and she lifted it, the heavy purr emanating from so little a creature warming the whole of her bones. "Kwisatz," she declared on an enraptured voice. Tilting out her chin, she touched her nose to the sand kitten's which left it sneezing and her laughing. The sound floated through the parlor like dusking dreams. "Delighted? Yes. The whole of me, Ifran. He is the most dear thing I have ever seen in my life and, oh!" Oh! She shifted, dance stepping closing to Ifran so he could have a better angle at which to observe the newly dubbed Kwisatz kneading puffy little paws into her shoulder. "Look, he likes me, you think?"

[Ifran]

"Shortening of the Way," he said, acknowledging the new name for the sand kitten with a nod. "It is done." His urbane mask cracked with a genuine smile and fell away. They may yet become rivals, but even he could take pleasure in giving pleasure. Often the pleasures of their peers were sophisticated, but the simpler ones drove past all the civilized trappings of life to more primal joys. That little Kwisatz was kneading her meant that he had found a new mother. "Oh, I do believe he does like you. If it is not premature to say, I think he loves you. The kitten has exceedingly good taste. After all, if I am to be thrown aside, at least it is for you."

[Izdihar]

"But what is love to this tiny thing?" The young woman wondered aloud. Frail seeming fingers slid into soft fur, all six of her arms fully engaged in the comfort and cradling of this feline baby. The fingers of a lower hand caught the kitten's tail, flickering the end of it with absent beats against the back of Ifran's hand, larger and stronger than her own. "We are kind and he is warm. He will be fed and petted, room to pounce and play. That is care, yes, but is it love?" A strange frown moth winged across her countenance, the shade of somewhat both familiar and unexpected. Deep waters did not ever run clear. "Ifran, you must take tour of the Westwinds orchards," she decided, expression lightening to turn the disturbance into memory. "We can picnic in the orangery or beneath the pears by the river."

[Ifran]

For a time, he was only eloquent in his silence. Their pantheon had no place for love. Cheva marked those who bound themselves to each other, often out of love, but not always. Nikali was the seat of lust and need, both of which were frequent companions with love. He could quote her a million lines of ancient Arumenic poetry on the topic of love, but in the end they were just words, and who was he to say what love was for the small creature held at her bosom or for anyone else? "I would enjoy that," he said finally. "You can educate me on the nature of love in one idyllic spot or another. The kitten will chase butterflies as we pull down pears from the heavy branches. We can discuss the future."

[Izdihar]

The smile she gave Ifran of the Northwinds was thoughtful, his gift nuzzling at her breast and worming its way into her heart. The sand kitten was more brave than most, and so it seemed was the man who had fostered it. How brave, exactly, would be revealed by the future he mentioned in terms more optimistic and gilded than the sweep of Eypharian arms across the socio-political board of Eyktol. "Yes," she said and cast the die.

[Colombina]

The XP Wand Is Waved! Ah, my two favorite nobles, doing what they do best: talking. Or as my hubby phrases it "taaaalky, talky, talk, talk". (You can see how I am the poet between us.) I am a hopeless romantic and still want to see these two connivers together, conniving forever, having beautiful conniving babies. Ifran's Loot 3 XP Rhetoric (your favorite!) 2 XP Persuasion 2 XP Seduction (even tho the kitty did most your work) 1 XP Cosmetology (because you got yo hair did) Lore of Mirage Trade (partial) Izzy's Loot 2 XP Rhetoric (your favorite too!) 1 XP Investigation (Who is your grandpa and what does he do?) 3 XP Seduction (work it honey) 2 XP Cosmetology (oooo gurrrl, you all done up) Lore of Sand Kittens Colombina is pleased!