IT WAS not quite an argument but rather a disagreement. The way he was so flippant with regard to the gods--that was something she had difficulty abiding. Differing perspectives with regard to other things aside, there was nothing that irritated her more than this.

She respects him. She does.

That is why she doesn't let it turn into a fullblown argument. But this isn't something she enjoys, and so with a sigh, she places a hand on his chest, leaning in to press her lips to his. With luck the shock of it will make his blasphemous tongue still.

kisses | accepting.

it works—

knoll is unused to interruption, to not being able to speak unhalted. he's easy to surprise, given that. the softness of natasha's lips, the warmth of them...

he is unused to contact. freezes in the face of it.

the hand on his chest would have been enough and in fact, it stills him entirely, frozen so still that he feels like his quick-beating heart is all that moves at all. life ever happening in a gathering knoll is not invited to. he tenses, then relaxes, like a string drawn taut and then released.

his hand finds her wrist, long fingers encircling it, half-gently, then tugging.

felling local bandits was above his paygrade strictly speaking, truly a waste of his strength and energy. the king wasn't without a heart, however, and so he heeded the call of these foreign villages with haste. he pressed forward without his band of extras, hoping he would be through with them before they ever reached him. criminals like these were light work for him, and he was proven right as he felt a yawn raising from his throat.

THUMP -!

the not so uncommon sound of an object, likely a weapon, hitting the dirt beneath him. the dead didn't seem to hold on to their worldly possessions for long, leaving their axes and swords to the earth. hearing it only meant that the stragglers at his heel had actually made it in time to help. ephraim would have to remember to thank them, and remember their names possibly... if they were useful. he glanced behind himself to find his crew, seeing them all engaged in combat. he could hardly dally now, and so he turned back to his own gaggle of buffoons to slay.

now adjusted back to his front, he found himself with nary a moment to adjust his position with an axe flinging straight towards him. blast, he had grown ever so careless in his boredom, and now he would have the displeasure of bearing a scar that reminded him of it. he readied himself for the blow as best he could, bearing his armguards to block anything vital. no axe worth it's coin would ricochet off them, but they could absorb some of the force if anything.

that moment doesn't come, however, instead the king is flashed a blur of white and yellow. a single woman hits the ground before his horse, stave broken in two and a bloodied axe at her side. the axe meant for him, he clarified internally, before leaping off his steed in favor of the ground. "you wish to be treated like true warriors, then so be it." ephraim readied his lance, spinning it rapidly around him, confusing the enemy at where he might thrust. in a flash of sheer speed, the spear finds its mark inside the oaf, signaling the others around him to retreat. good, he had finally found their leader.

without hesitation, the king knelt down to the woman, giving her a once over. her wrists had taken most of the shock, thankfully her staff had lessened the blow and diverted the blow to her upper arm. all in all, she would be fine after a bit of time resting up, but the possibility of her being not so lucky furrowed his brow. "listen, you needn't risk your safety for me! you could have seriously been injured-" he paused as ocean blue eyes looked up at him, alerting his mind that this was, "natasha?" ephraim allowed himself a few minds to overcorrect, shifting slightly under the weight of her stare. "still... you should look after yourself, not me." she had already done quite enough for not only him, but his country too... he asked much of her during wartime, and he could never ask her for more. he owed her a great debt, and here she was still shielding him from harm.

inspecting her one more time, keen not to injure her further, he lifts he carefully into his arms. "this village should have a cleric on hand, i'm sure they'll be eager to show their thanks." as he carried on, oblivious to any potential protest, he thought about showing his gratitude as well... for this, for protecting his sister, for giving up her home. he couldn't bring himself to utter the words though, fear of encouraging such sacrifice for only him far too present.

WHEN Natasha approaches, it is not with any hesitation. She extends a hand to Knoll & offers a friendly smile. Her eyes are alight in a way that suggests that the good mood of the evening is getting to her, or perhaps that she's had more champagne than the students were told that they could have. But only a little more, she is a cleric after all, & will not indulge unnecessarily.

"Master Knoll, you are always so serious. Is that the case tonight? And if so then is there any way I can tempt you into a friendly dance?"

knoll takes the offered hand, bowing at the waist with one hand behind his back ( a stiff and rigid posture, befitting him in a way ) as he presses a feather-light kiss to it. she seems to be in good spirits, which is nice to see. he remembers all too well the way the weight of past conversations had once sat heavy in her throat when they used to speak, during the war.

It has been some time since she has seen most of the people of Renais in particular that she had travelled with during the war and she is always happy to see them. Distance keeps people apart but not so here, when they are all foreigners.

"Sister Natasha!" Forde's face lights up when he sees a familiar face. He bows in turn. "I had no idea you were here! It's lovely to see you."

"It's been about half a year since I got here." Well, year and a half, if you included that year lost to Pasithee. Which he still wasn't sure about. "I've been having a great time, learned more than I expected really."

"How are you enjoying the ball, Ewan?" Natasha asks. In her hand she has a plate of sweet buns she'd snagged from one of the tables. "Will you split these with me? I only wanted one but it felt rude to just leave the other two."

“Ooh, Miss Natasha! Hiya!” Reciprocating with a cheerful wave of his own, he had a big smile on his face as she approached. Ever since he met her he always appreciated her company. She was a calm and serene presence amidst the chaos of war, comforting and gentle. The fact that she still took the time to talk to him, despite the fact they had no affiliation anymore, made his heart swell with joy.

As always she was as considerate as she was wonderful, offering one of the things he loves most, besides magic and his family: sweets. “Oh boy, would I! Thank you!” Almost immediately he swiped one of the buns off the plate and took a bite.

“Im haffin aw-“ oops, he should eat before he continues to speak. A little embarrassed he quickly chews and swallows, before trying again. “I’m having a blast! The food is so good, the people are so nice.. it’s just been the best! How about you Miss Natasha?”