Oct 28, 2019
continued from x ;
@everlastingspirit
As a maid carried by a gallant Knight doth Roland drape himself almost totally ‘gainst Lyell, his arm ‘round his neck; his free’d hand infernally tempted to wander, to touch that patch of skin nearly visible in the triangle of his tunic. ‘Tis a focal point until doth he realize Lyell hath spake!
He beams, slow and easy. “Thou art a most gracious host,” slurs he, immediately Seen. Doth he touch now, a warm palm in the middle of his breast; near his heart. He pats it warmly, quiet and greedy in an experienced slyness. “Politeness of preferable companionship, new Friend. Thou hast offered to pay my drink, thou art a True Ser of handsomeness.” And Roland guffaws.
