#maireannatari

You wound me, my friend. Do you wish me gone? Would you prefer Tarks to conquer the South and turn its lands into ‘protectorates?’ If my tower falls, they will. You know how eager they are to loot your cities and torch your shrines. They’ll ‘save’ you from your ‘evil’ gods and force you to worship Manwë. They’ll demand tribute until Harad’s gold is spent. Join me, dearest lady, and let us crush them. Together, we can drive them into the sea.

“Um…! I’d rather not say…!”

What’s that you say? ‘The statue aroused me, but I’m ashamed to admit it?’

You really should stop denying that Saurons fascinate you. Why not pursue us and enjoy yourself a little? You’re drawn to our power. You love our singing. And we are very dextrous.

-traces seductive fingertips down Osse’s pelvic fins-

Rude. 

I am hardly fascinated. Sure, you have some interesting tricks, and yes, you have nice singing voices, but why would I care how de---

“Thank you, Gothmog. You’ve always been a good ally in debates.”

“Some liquids are more easily handled than others,” Maire noted, watching her cousin spill the liquor. He didn’t hand her the glass so much as fling it. Before it could slosh all over the sands, she plucked it from the air. Wasting stray drips would have been alcohol abuse. She licked them from her fingers. Fiery spices stung her lips, delighting her enough to down the rest in one long quaff. Ah, such perfection, so fierce and so sweet! Had Ji pilfered the cask from a tomb? For centuries it must have lain fermenting into poison. There was more than wine at work here. Long ago, far in the east, someone had spiked it with hemp.

“Do I need a direfully important reason? Can’t I enjoy a stroll?” She flung herself down gracefully and lounged beside the cask, toying with her empty glass. “My corsair’s misplaced himself, but finding him can wait. The sky is so fair.” She spoke the truth. It was white with fog. “Your sea is lovely.” It hissed and churned, steel grey beneath skeins of foam. “Was there ever a better day for idleness?” Only if chill winds and stinging drizzle were idyllic.

Ossë snorted in vague amusement and tossed his head, too comfortably lounged to look arrogant, but sprawled just so to look regal and haughty. His crown was not quite straight on his head and his garments, always loose and billowing, had fallen from one shoulder haphazardly. 

“I did not think this weather was to your fancy,” he drawled, tearing his eyes from the horizon to peer at his companion. “You always seemed to me the sort to appreciate bright, hot skies and dry, scalding winds. Consider me pleasantly surprised.” His gaze was caught by her hands and the empty goblet, and he gave another toss of his head. “Help yourself to more, if you wish.”

“... I see you eaves-dropping, Ji.”