Jun 10 04:58:14 105 PA
From Chronicles
The current game time is: Wed Jun 10 04:58:14 105 PA.
Located to the east of the Library is an open garden that extends from the floor, up five stories to the skylight ceiling. The garden is forty feet across with a large, polished marble staircase circling the garden extending up to each floor. The staircase has dark, highly polished mahogany railings on both sides of the ten foot wide staircase. In the center of the garden is a fountain about ten feet across. The fountain depicts ten individuals of varying race and sex who supposedly founded the Kingsdale Library. A book placed on a pedestal is located in the center of the ten statues and spews forth water that flows past the statues feet and into the fountain pool. Marble benches circle the fountain and seem more decorative than functional. Marble paths circle the fountain and garden joining to many pleasant areas to think and enjoy the tranquility of the garden. Flowers seem in constant bloom and the hedges of the garden are said to be the healthiest and most beautiful in Kingsdale. The most striking thing about the central garden is that it is a hanging garden. Plants, flowers, and ferns line the walls extending from floor to ceiling on tiers. During the day sunlight enters the central garden filling the area with light that almost has a magical effect especially at noon when the sun is at its highest.
Desmond is settled in the garden, the rain outside of no concern to the big male as he sits at one of the benches, cradling in his lap a picture book of various forms of art. Right now he's looking at more modern sculptures of the post Rifts age, what few there are who have gained some notoriety these days. THough he doesn't study them with a practiced eye, he looks to be quite intrigued by what he sees, giving though to each image in turn.
Book in hand, Aimee is coming looking for peace and quiet. Escaping from the noise and people at work, needing some time to sort her head out. She pauses on the pathway, tilting her head back to look at the rain hitting the skylight. She takes a moment, sliding her free hand into the back pocket of her jeans, watching the rain sluice over the glass.
Desmond breathes out a low breath. The next turn of page brings him to painting again. Having finished a section, he pauses and lifts his eyes from the book, his back arching slowly to work out a kink from his lengthy presence here. Of course, his eyes flick about in a casual scan of the surroundings with eye and ear. Eyes passing over Aimee where she stands. Pausing after the pass before flicking back to her. Warm fondness rises and he'll lift his hand to wave from afar, to snag at her attention.
Her attention is snagged, drawn from the rain on the glass and she smiles, one that she has just for mon chats. It lights her eyes and face and she turns her footsteps towards him, tucking the book into her bag. "Mon chat... what are you reading?" She curls up on the bench beside him, offering him a kiss.
Desmond attends to the important matter of the kiss, first. He must be learning, as he accompanies the gentle touch with a lifted hand, drawing his fingers softly along her cheek as he indulges for a few quiet moments. And after, he regards her with that warm fondness that is most strong for her alone. "A book of art. There are many here and each shows me how much more I have to learn." He looks down and flips back the page a few, showing a well detailed stone sculpture. "Such things as this I have not tried yet. Perhaps in time, after I have better learned sketching and painting."
Aimee turns her cheek into the touch, pressing a kiss lightly against his hand, her eyes warm. Her eyes dip to the book, leaning forward to look, her hair falling forward to brush against her cheeks. "You are so serious about this, mon chat?" She questions softly, giving him a thoughtful look.
Desmond nods his head once, lifting his near arm to gently lay across her shoulders. "I am, My Flame. The more I attempt it, the better I get.. and all that I do, I do with seriousness and focus. This art.. it is a favorable hobby. I feel I can apply pencil to a page for hours without feeling the need to pause or turn my attention elsewhere. That tells me much. I only wish I could move faster into the midst of it. I would like to try to capture your image, but my skills are not yet worthy." He looks to her and she'd see that he's quite serious in this belief. "But soon."
She pulls a face, dismissive of her importance and the need for high skills of drawing before he draws her. "If you want to draw me I can lie still for you?" The offer is soft, her eyes teasing, the offer lying silent beneath it showing in her eyes. "When you want..."
"When I feel I am ready, My Aimee," Desmond rumbles softly to her, there acceptance of her offer, if not in the immediate. He pauses, other thoughts coming to mind. Those that, perhaps, are not worthy of a gentle time together with her. Yet.. "I have looked into the Arena. I am not so sure I wish to delve into it, as it seems that the only aspect I could enter into would be far too dangerous. Danger for needs I would face, but I do not wish to face true danger for money alone. There are other ways to gather such things."
"Isn't it just sparring? A bit of a punchup..." A flash of confusion in her eyes as she draws up a leg to rest her chin on the knee. "Danger? Like hurt danger, or dying danger, mon chat?" Green eyes narrow on his face, giving him a look full of both suspicion and worry. "It is your choice, mon chat..."
"Both," Desmond tells Aimee. "Where they would allow me to compete, I would potentially go against many who are stronger than myself. And it is not so friendly a competition as I would prefer. I will watch it, but I do not seek great danger. It is not proper for this time. So too it is not just my choice.. it is ours. My love for you would not let me make an important decision without your thoughts on the matter. The things I do.. they effect your life as well as mine."
Aimee 's forehead wrinkles into a frown, as she hugs her knee closer. "I think perhaps I would prefer you never to be hurt... but you and mon chat, you are different to me, non? And some part of it is your need to hunt and fight. Perhaps, this is part of it and perhaps I should not stop it."
Desmond nods his head once. "There is.. a need, yes. And there will always be danger.. that is the world in which we live. But there are better ways, I think." His hand squeezes softly on her shoulder as he notes, "If nothing else, I would spar with Kesslan regularly. For I know that no matter what, he and I will not do serious damage to one another." His hand lifts, softly stroking his fingers through her curls. "We are different, you and I. But so too are we similar. I love your differences.. how you always challenge me. Show me new things. In many ways, I think you give me balance. Perspective on my own thoughts."
Aimee nods slowly, leaning into his touch, unable not to respond. "This I think is your choice..." She shakes her head slowly. "If you spar with mon chat Kesslan, I think you two won't kill each other at least. Je t'aime, mon chat. I love your thinking but this, you have to decide."
"I have, May Flame," Desmond rumbles to her. "I will speak with Kesslan on this.. it will help the both of us. Which is a favorable aspect to it." There is a pause then as another thought comes. He tightens his fingers in her hair just a bit, giving a little tug before he releases and lets his hand move back to her shoulder. "Aimee.. I would speak to you on Katsumi again," he states. His tone grown cautious. "Would you hear me out in this?"
The flash of heat in her eyes gives way to a different type of heat at the mention of the stalker and she pulls away from him. She twists to put her knee, and her leg between them. "I don't see there is anything to talk about. Not on that topic." Her voice holds a hardness that reflects the look in her eyes.
Desmond allows her to draw away and breathes out a deep sigh. "Indeed. I did wish to tell you at least one thing, however, for I think you have misunderstood one aspect of her life. Her manner of feeding on magic energies. It does not involve intimacy, as you might have assumed. She needs only a cut of the skin to take the energy. That and no more. I thought, perhaps, that might.. help." Though just what sort of help he isn't sure.
Aimee listens in silence, the hardness in her face unsoftened. "Help how? Help me be happy for her to latch onto my man, like she did with Ordo, her last boyfriend and now another?" She swings her legs down to the floor, reaching for her bag. "I guess I'm going to go, do some laundry." The warmth, the smile, all gone behind that hard face.
Desmond rumbles lowly, his hand slipping behind her again. Grasping her hip and lifting/pulling. Drawing her into his lap firmly, the other arm moved to slip around her waist in a loose 'cage'. "Aimee, I would not allow such a thing, but so too Katsumi knows what must be between she and I," he tells her, deep voice given a firmness. "So too, I do not intend to feed her. But nether will I not be her friend, for she has earned that much. I would like for you to give her another chance.. she is changing for the better. Gaining stability of a sort. Even questioning her past ways. I know that the past stings still for you, but I would ask that you consider giving her another chance.. you two were friendly once, were you not?"
Aimee gives him a steady look, her face hard. "Non, we were never friendly. I tried to be and she made me feel a whore. And so, non, there is no other chance." She sits on his lap, her body stiff, unyielding, a tension there that won't allow her to sink into his touch as she would normally. "I don't stop you being her friend. I don't force you to change yourself on this."
Desmond frowns faintly at that. "I know you do not. And so too I would not force you to like her. But I think that you should give her a chance. Just as I did not turn from her for the misstep she made that night, though surely I could have. She was not herself and she prompted a misunderstanding that, thankfully, has been solved. So too, she holds to what must be between she and I." He leans forward and softly buries his short muzzle in at the base of her neck, gently nuzzling against her as he rumbles lowly. "Consider, My Flame. At least that much, for me? Talk to her, perhaps. Gauge for yourself." Part of him thinks he may make a mistake in trying to nudge them together. Yet he feels he must.
Aimee speaks flatly, as she pulls away from him, out of his arms, sweeping her bag up onto her shoulder in the same movement. She turns to face him, standing back, out of reach, her face harder than ever. "Non. No. Which bit of this word finds itself lost in meaning to you? Non, I will not give her another chance, non I will not be friends and happy and nice with your friend, who makes me feel like a cheap whore when I at least get paid for my work. Non. No." She turns then, starts to walk away, her strides showing her temper flaring.
Desmond frowns. Worse than he thought for sure. "As you wish, My Flame. But still I ask that you consider. All make mistakes and so too did she, but people change if we allow them to." She can tell he's not pleased, though it would likely be a given at the strength of her own reaction. And for now he lets her go, not wishing to push any more than he already has. Perhaps he shall linger at his home to night, before going later to smooth over this little debacle. Breathing out a low huff, he lowers his eyes to his art book, looking for a renewed peace of mind on the glossy pages.Tags:aimee, desmond
