lobelianathairâ:
âI do, when itâs necessary,â they reply, tilting their head to the side as they gaze down at her, their eyes studying herâs with an amused satisfaction. âI guess I just assumed you trusted them enough you didnât need me watching. If you do though, â they pause as their lips curl into a small smirk, âIâd be happy to step up the surveillance a little more.â If they were being completely honest, they usually did keep an eye on the two of them when they were together, not because Nathair suspected Katurian capable of regicide- but more so they simply preferred to know everything that was going on.Â
Of course, the real reason why they hadnât been watching that particular conversation, was that Nathair had been hidden away, talking with the adviser of an entirely different court at the time. It wasnât their intention to hide that fact from Sorcha, they had nothing to hide after all. Declan was just more of an odd subject between them, a ghost that they both seemed to dance around but never really address was there to begin with. His weight in their lives was significant, for two very opposing reasons, but there all the same. Neither of them were prone to sharing such emotional baggage though, both preferring to keep such pesky emotions buried than out in the open. And so his ghost remained, haunting them both separately in their own self made cages.Â
âPerhaps itâs better that you string them along then,â they nod, their eyes darting from herâs down to her lips as they step another inch closer. It would have been so easy then to give into what they wanted, rather than what they knew they should do. Part of them wanted to rationalize the decision, to shrug off their responsibility and give in to the temptation. They were so far from the others after all⌠Lips hovering over herâs, their frame loomed over her as they stood before her.Â
âLet them fight a little more for your attention, until they have nothing left to offerâ they breathed. They had officially stepped into dangerous territory, should someone happen across the two of them right then, there was no explanation they could give as to the nature of the conversation other than the reality of it. But they had no plan to follow through with path theyâd appeared to set themself on. As much as they wanted to do otherwise, their desire to not become a weakness of Sorchaâs for someone to exploit outweighed any other.Â
Just when it seems theyâre finally going to close the achingly small distance between the two of them, they glance back up at her, a devilish look in their eyes. Ducking their head to the side, their lips now hovered over her right ear. Although the distance between them is still much closer than was safe, the only part of them that touches her is their own breath against her earlobe as they whisper, âLet them promise you the world with trinkets and pretty smiles, all in order to win your favor, â they pause, their voice even lower as they add, âbut I know whose form you watch for as you stare at your bedroom window in the dead of night.âÂ
Itâs a sweet victory to have captured their gaze, those piercing eyes that always see too much. Beloved scout, beloved servant, the firm hand that Sorcha always needs to help her lead her little kingdom. A sweet victory and a beautiful thing. The words fill her with such fond amusement, all this talk of trust. âMy ability to trust any man is a fickle and flighty thing, you know that.â Wry and amused, sharing this common knowledge that Sorchaâs true and honest trust was a hard thing to win. She wondered, sometimes, why Nathair had been given it so freely. Perhaps it was her fathers influence. Heâd trained them, practically raised them. Heâd let them go on their merry way when Nathair had started feeling Sorchaâs pull.Â
She trusted Katurian, sure enough, to be alone with them in any situation, even on her most fragile of days. Still, she liked when Nathair watched. She liked that gaze to be firmly on her.
Standing just a little straighter as she sees their gaze flicker, as they inch closer. God, what a tease. It wasnât as if theyâd really touch, here where anyone could see the weakness of it. Itâs nice to picture it, none the less. Lips meeting lips in the middle of this fray. Sorcha never dared, not in front of her foolish little courtiers. Couldnât have them thinking she needed a king, couldnât have them knowing that she yearned for touch, be it gentle or rough or somewhere in the middle of the two. Theyâre close enough that they could break the rules of it, lean in and steal something. She knows they wonât, even if she wanted them to. And Sorcha wouldnât truly force it, either. âQuite a talent of mine,â She breathes, slow and syrupy sweet. âI know how to keep them on the hook.âÂ
Those bright eyes meet her own sharp gaze again, and she almost breathes a laugh, relishes in the feeling of the warm breath when Nathair moves and whispers low. The words do win a huff of laughter, in the end. Secret and safe, the kind of thing that comes out too often around this favoured fiend of hers. âIs that so?â She asks, quiet. It should make her shudder at the thought of it, someone knowing what she wants. It should, but it doesnât. Itâs nice to be seen, on rare occasions and by rare souls. âAnd yet I find myself disappointed so often.â A tilt of her head. âCurious. Perhaps we share a the same talent.âÂ













