"I cannot say I've ever been forced to enjoy something. On the contrary…" Story trailed off, and chuckled rather darkly. "Most things I've enjoyed I have been discouraged from. Which makes one enjoy them ever the more too, no?"

Story had never mentioned much of his colored past - not even to the goddess whom he now stayed with. Leading up to and following Dalanesca's release, he had only been a confidante, a lent ear. She had spilled countless details to him of herself, yet he had remained somewhat of an enigma, despite her knowing what he was beneath the human form. There were some details that tended to crop up in his persona from time to time that told a small tale, however. He possessed a quiet, modest regality, carrying himself with dignity and poise, but seemed reluctant to relish in finer things to be had.

"I like these clothes," he politely declined. "They keep things in perspective…remind me of my own release."
He nodded at Dalanesca as he relaxed into his own seat. "It is good to see you, and your realm as a whole so placid."

Story's soft crimson-brown gaze regarded the goddess curiously, and it appeared an even deeper red in the light of Porta Inferi's sun. He looked to the amber liquid she held, then to the new one that was brought, being given a single drop of the former decanter. His thoughts drifted to the pint-sized, sassy goddess he'd shared a tea party with as he stared into the glass he was given. "This won't kill me, will it?" Swirling the contents of the glass about and inhaling its scent deeply, he decided he would let it breathe a little before indulging. "I normally don't consume anything at all, much less alcohol. For this occasion though, I will make an exception."

Dalanesca's vulnerable state plucked his heart strings. She'd opened up about the death of her family before, but had more or less remained stoic on the matter, and on the gloom of her isolation. Her stark rage had simmered away into a sort of saute of sadness. He could not help but think of words he was not meant to hear, while Angela had been in the realm. It was no trouble at all for him to be at her beck and call, but if she had hopes of reaching further, driven by her sorrow…he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Story had taken several gulps of the whiskey within a few moments.
It hit him. Hard, and instantly, though also subtly.

In his momentary inner musings, he had failed to realize his eyes had wandered and dumbly transfixed upon areas of the goddess' exposed milky skin. Story shook his head when a moment of lucidity allowed him to catch this, and shifted his gaze from her long legs to her blue eyes. "Well, I'm clearly not going anywhere…anytime soon," Story offered, his accent making him slur the words even more so than if he had none. He thought for a second and in his haze, found it necessary to be redundant. "I'm here for you, mon amie," he reiterated, unaware of any contexts that could be read in his second phrasing.

"It has been far too long for me as well. I wander, and yet I never think to stop and smell the roses."

 

 

Dalanesca raised an eyebrow at Story.  The dark intonation of his voice gave way to something deeper, possibly a bit sinister.  She found herself thinking of how many times his comments made her raise her eyebrows at him, and nearly laughed at the amount of times she could recall.  Her conversations with him always carried some comment that caught her off guard, and she found it refreshing - as well as intriguing.  It certainly did not help tame the fascination that she felt with him.  She answered him with a vague shrug of her shoulders, shifting her legs on the lounge she sat on.

She nodded as he declined her offering of new clothing.  She took no offense.  His explanation as to why he did not want the clothing made sense to her, even if she would not have felt the same on her own.  It was just another thing to add to the list of interesting aspects about him - a list that was growing rather long.  ”Just thought I would offer,” she said, shrugging once more.  She smiled as he sat down.  ”It is nice to see you as well,” she said, though her happiness at his presence had already been rather apparent.  ”This place has taken on an entirely new light, so to speak,” she said, at the mention of how calm things seemed to be.  ”I must say, I’m rather enjoying the peace,” she said, simply.  

She smiled, laughing very quietly as Story eyed the drink she offered him, seemingly hesitant on drinking it.  ”Why would I kill something I enjoy?” The words held more meaning than their surface offered, made even moreso apparent by her gaze lingering on his own crimson eyes before drifting away to the decanter of whiskey.  ”Although, if you have more after that I wouldn’t add any more - I don’t want to have to go plucking your soul out of one of the Circles,” she said, with a laugh - though the humor was masked with a bit of seriousness.  She was unsure of what would happen to him, were he to ingest too much of the powerful liquid.

Moments after he had taken a few drinks of the whiskey, Dalanesca could sense Story’s eyes on her - but she did draw attention to the fact that she noticed.  Instead, she took a drink of her own, setting the glass down after.  ”You’re welcome here as long as you want, you know that,” she said, rather quietly.  She could hear the effect the drink had on his words, but quieted as he spoke once more.  His next words held a bit more weight, though she was unsure as to what type of weight it was.  She said nothing, her eyes fixating on his own - though her focus required a bit more effort, as she was clearly feeling the intended effects of the liquor she had been imbibing.

She felt a strange tenseness in the air between the two, and his next phrase caused her to think for a moment.  It was something that she had been guilty of herself - not taking time for herself, or taking time to enjoy things.  ”Well,” she said, rather abruptly, and swung her legs around to sit up on the edge of her lounge chair, facing story.  She leaned towards him, the fabric of her skirt bunched up between her legs, scooping up her glass in one hand.  She took another quick drink and set it down again.  ”You need to do that, then!” she said, with a smile.  Her cheeks had fallen rather rosey after the last few sips.  ”I need to take my own advice, truth be told,” she said.  ”Though.. Don’t smell the roses in here, please?  You’ll die,” she said, simply - as most of the flowers in the garden were very poisonous. 

She leaned towards him a bit more, and reached out, laying her palm across the top of his knee.  ”Make time for the more beautiful things in life,” she said, her eyes locking on his own. He had clearly been through an enormous amount of trials and tribulations in his life, that much was obvious - even if he was not willing to share them with her.

For a moment, she gazed at him, before pulling her hand back quickly as though she had been burned. She turned away from him, her gaze turning to the sky, and she cleared her throat a bit, moving to top her glass off.  She had finally reached the point where her speech seemed slightly off.  ”Can’t get enough of this, I’ll tell ya’,” she said, in a tone masked with a soft giggle.  She took another sip, and turned back to him.

Her next phrase came rather bluntly.  ”Why are you so interesting to me?” she asked, flatly, turning back to face him - intent on fishing some sort of answer out of him, but unsure if she truly wanted the answer.

The alchemical reactions taking place within Story after he had imbibed the entire glass were hard to describe. Lucidity was present, yes; but not like he was accustomed to. He was a being of duality. He did not just assume a guise, he became that form entirely, while, simultaneously, he would always be a dragon beneath. This strange alcohol both hazed him, and rooted him. The stupor was entirely human, and that's where it made him vulnerable. It was unnerving, but he was certain he had become completely unaware of his true aspects. It was like a lucid dream, where any notions of proper behavior had flown out an open window. Every single human reaction, urge, and emotion was almost unbearably potent.

Try as he might, Story could not focus on regaining any sense of control. What he could focus on was every minute detail around him…mainly in his host. The way Dalanesca's expressions varied moment to moment as she spoke with him…the way her loose clothing hung over her frame and every curve. He found himself being stirred by the slight huskiness to her voice, and the feel of her gentle touch. She leaned towards him, and their eyes had locked for an intense few seconds. Story's lips involuntarily parted ever so slightly,…

Then the dream was broken for moment when Dalanesca suddenly pulled away from him, as though a serpent had surreptitiously bitten her.

The snake's venom coursed through the goddess in the form of an awkward, forced stoicism - something that Story could sense, even in his altered state. While the booze had affected his inhibitions and overall state of being, it apparently did not hinder his keen perception.The difference now was that he was just more inclined to make commentary. He was about to ask her about her breaking away, but her question had come first, and gave him pause.

"Je suis interesting to a great many I come into contact with," Story stated matter-of-factually, his accent slurring even more now. Crimson gaze shifting aside, he rose from his seat, and stumbled at first, but soon found enough equilibrium to pace about the garden thoughtfully. "It depends on what context you are using the descriptive in. If you find the words, I would very much like to know how I trouble a goddess as much as that goddess would herself."
Running his hand through his hair, he shot her a look, accompanied by an odd little smug smirk. He hiccuped violently, and shook his head.

As suddenly as Story's mirth had shown, he had become very serious in demeanor just as quickly. His brow furrowed.
"I think I always knew why you have been interesting to me," he remarked. "I just never really admitted it to myself."

Story braced himself on a marble railing as a fit of dizziness overtook him, very nearly making him fall headfirst into a planter box filled with nightshade. He took several deep breaths, and turned to face Dalanesca once more, sitting on the rail.
"You remind me of someone…A lot, in fact. Dare I say it, I've almost thought it unnecessary to come to you for your end of the bargain, as I often feel like I may have achieved the closure of my past already."

Her eyes found Story again as he rose and began to move about the garden, her gaze shifting back and forth with his movement.  She drew her lower lip into her mouth, biting on it slightly in a contemplative manner.  She thought for a brief moment on how to explain her question to him - truthfully, she had not thought much on the words at all before she had blurted them out.  The expression that crossed his visage took her slightly off guard, as it was much less serious than the face he seemed to usually put on. ”I…” She began to speak, but it was clear that she had no inkling on what to say. She thought of many ways in which she could describe the mystery she saw behind him.  There was something about her guest that gave her pause - something that made her feel drawn to him.  She could not describe it - she had tried to pass it off as loneliness, the desire for someone to distract her from it - but it certainly seemed to be something above and beyond that.

Fortunately for her, in part, it seemed as though Story had more to say.  She noted the change in his tone as he spoke, and his next words confused her even further.  She found herself speechless, to say the least, as she was not quite grasping the enormity of what his words implied.

Her confusion was paused as she watched him stumble, close to making contact with a planting of nightshade.  She stood up quickly, about to make her way to him to keep him from getting a face full of the poisonous plant, but she stopped at the foot of her chair as he seemed to recover himself.  She remained in her standing position, facing him, as he sat himself back on the railing he had used as a brace.  

She could feel her heart beat more quickly as he began speaking once more, and she felt as though she was beginning to understand what he was suggesting. On one hand, she found herself feeling relief at his admission of finding her interesting, much in the same manner that she found him; but on the other hand, she felt extreme confusion that what she understood his implication to be could even be a possibility.  It was true, that there were still aspects of her mortal life (and those lives that had come before it) that she had yet to remember.

She finally broke her gaze away from him, looking towards the strange sky of her realm, where the blood red sun had begun to set into the reddish-orange sky, giving way to nightfall.  She drew in a deep breath, trying to process the words he had spoken to her, and as she exhaled her breath seemed a bit shaky, unsure of the situation at hand. She was no longer trying to hide her unease from him, as the unease was not directed at him but at the implication that had been set forth.  Was it possible?  Could she have, in another life, been that soul of which he had spoken upon first coming to her realm?  The notion was improbable, but not impossible - but from the time (albeit rather brief and uninformative) she had spent around Story, she was sure that he would not have even brought it up if he had a reasonable doubt that it was not the case.

She could feel a chill in the descending evening air, and wrapped her arms about herself.  “If you’re saying…” She trailed off, unsure of how to form her thoughts into coherent phrases.  She sighed and shook her head, turning her back to him and stepping toward the small table near the seat she had earlier been.  Reaching down, she grasped her stone tumbler, bringing it to her lips and draining it before placing it back in its resting spot.  She turned back to him, staring at him with quizzical eyes for a moment before walking towards him.  When she was within arms’ reach, she grasped his wrist and pulled him down from the railing.  She gave him a moment to make sure his footing was even - after all, even with the serious tones of the conversation she was feeling a bit on the inebriated side, and was fairly sure that he was not far behind her - if not already ahead of her thanks to her divinity.  From where he landed, she found herself standing mere inches from him. 

“This… conversation is not done,” she said as she looked up at him, her blue eyes piercing into his own reddish eyes.  “But I am afraid, regardless of my divinity, I am growing rather cold,” she said simply.  She dropped her hand from his wrist.  “Let’s go inside,” she said, and turned for the entrance of the palace, assuming that he would follow her.

After a moment’s walk, the pair found themselves in one of the side rooms of the vast library housed within Domus Tenebris.  A longer, black upholstered sofa and two armchairs adorned the room, settled around a circular table carved out of obsidian.  A few decanters of various spirits sat on the table, and the goddess immediately reached out to grab a glass from the tray they sat upon, uncorking a decanter and pouring a small amount out.  She downed it in one gulp and sat down upon the sofa, turning to Story, whom she had left standing in the entrance to the room.

“Explain this to me… why am I drawn to you?” she said, her words the furthest from demanding they could be - but also as honestly as she could phrase them.  It came out as more of a plea, that perhaps her fascination with him did have a reason, and that in and of itself was enough to make her keen to find out if she understood him correctly.  Even with her request, there was a knowing look in her eyes.  If, in fact, he explained to her what she expected - there had to be a way for her to extract those memories… but it was a matter of how.

Normally a creature of great poise, Story found himself lacking composure for the first time in Dalanesca's presence. He was disconcerted both by his own unnatural candidness, and by the goddess' indiscernible reactions to it. There was an awareness that there had been something growing between them since his stay in Porta Inferi, but it had gone unspoken. It was borderline sitting in the seat of their subconscious, but it had been just tangible enough to cause a tension in the air. Now that everything seemed to be coming into the open, albeit in awkward to digest pieces, the air could scarcely be breathed…or was that the booze?

Story's heart thundered in his chest anxiously as he attempted to read into Dalanesca's demeanor. "Honestly, I'm not even sure exactly what I'm saying," Story uttered quietly.  His host's blue gaze had suddenly become very resolute and stern as she approached him. He let out a gasp, and nearly stumbled forward when she yanked him from the railing he had perched on. She clearly possessed a tolerance far beyond his own to be so grounded still, despite sharing a faltering of inhibitions. His eyes followed her, dumbfounded and distracted as she walked away from him, into the palace. He lagged behind long enough to catch a few deep breaths, running both hands through his wavy salt and pepper hair, and then he followed.

One pleasant thing about the inebriation was the intense focus upon singular things. Only…it was difficult at certain moments to focus on innocent things.

Story again found himself inhaling deeply as they passed through the library, to appreciate the must and vanilla of the ancient tomes that lie within. As they entered the room, a sort of den that branched off from the library, he watched as Dalanesca continued to imbibe and then sit. He took his place in one of the armchairs, leaning to one side on his elbow, and crossing one leg over the other. In the more natural light of the fireplace here, his dark olive skin stood out, while the crimson in his eyes dulled to a warmer red-brown.

"There are many things I can explain. This…I'm not sure I am able," Story mused to the goddess. He was not stalling. He truly had no coherent explanation, and was searching for the words. It was still rather difficult to speak clearly with the room spinning, and fire in his belly. "I have lived a very long time. As have you. Perhaps it is only that - we are a vintage of a pedigree that belongs on the same shelf. However…"
He found himself looking away from her, into the fire.

"I cannot deny that the resemblance is uncanny. In appearance and in spirit. I'm not making any leaps, understand. It's just….coincidental is all."
He looked back to her and shook his head. "Don't worry. It's a happy coincidence."

There were other implications to his words that he thought on, but had not intentionally meant. He knew of the man that was with the oracle he had met in Arri….the one who had lived many times. Could Dalanesca's spirit be similar? He wasn't sure what would happen if that were the case. Would it be at all unreasonable to desire things to pick up where they left off, if such an improbable thing were so?

When the pair had entered the sitting room off the library, Dalanesca found herself both disappointed and relieved at the same time that Story had chosen to sit on one of the armchairs rather than on the sofa next to her.  For a moment, she struggled to bring her eyes to rest upon him, as she was rather unsure of what sort of emotions were coursing through her mind.  Confusion was the most prevalent, but the other underlying emotions mixed in with that confusion into a volatile cocktail.  

When Story began to speak, she turned to look at him finally.  She took in the differences in his features from the change in ambiance, appreciating each detail as she studied him.  While she wished that he would have an easy explanation for her, she was not surprised that he seemed unable to do so.  It was an odd thing, the silent suggestion that his earlier words had made - and the implications that came along with it complicated whatever it was that she felt towards Story even further.  His words did nothing to assuage her confusion - in fact, they furthered it.

Dalanesca remained silent throughout Story's words, allowing him to finish his train of thought without interruption.  Throughout the brief period, she never took her eyes off of him, her gaze studying the features of his face - even as he looked away from her.

When he had finished speaking, she rose from her seated position and walked towards one of the room's sides.  She still remained quiet for a moment, but there was an air about her that gave away she had much to say, but could not find the words to properly phrase what she wished.  Finally, she spoke, and her voice was soft, much quieter than usual.  "It is true, that I have lived many lives," she began.  "I remember many of them - but there are still many things that are cloudy, or that I do not remember at all," she said, with her back to him.  She braced herself on the wall with one hand, leaning forward so that her forehead nearly touched the wall.  "Nearly every day, I am remembering something new," she continued, the words coupled with a sigh.  "I do not remember you," she said.  "But there is some…. feeling, some notion between us.  I do not know what it is, but I cannot find an explanation."

She paused, turning back towards him.  Her bottom lip had found its way between her teeth in a contemplative manner again, and she looked at him while deciding on how to best phrase her next words.  "When I look at you… there are many things I feel." She took a few steps towards Story, stopping a foot or so away from his chair.  When the pair had entered the sitting room off the library, Dalanesca found herself both disappointed and relieved at the same time that Story had chosen to sit on one of the armchairs rather than on the sofa next to her. For a moment, she struggled to bring her eyes to rest upon him, as she was rather unsure of what sort of emotions were coursing through her mind. Confusion was the most prevalent, but the other underlying emotions mixed in with that confusion into a volatile cocktail. "There are times that I think it is because we both know what it is like to lose someone… and we know what it is like to have been alive for a very long time, as you say," she said, raising a hand to push a section of her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear.  The residual effects from the liquor she had drank still burned within her mind, and she found it rather necessary to explain herself in a rather blunt fashion.

"There are times, when I look at you, when you are in my presence, that I want you to leave, not because I don't want you near me… but because I do not want to face what runs through my mind."  She paused, clearly trying to think of how to continue.  "Other times, when I look at you, I want to be close to you,"  she continued, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she continued.  "Close enough to press my lips against your own, and show you what it is that I am thinking of," she admitted.  Her eyes still locked onto his own, she folded her arms around herself, in almost a defensive position.  "It actually scares me, that I think these things - but perhaps you are not wrong, and that is the reason I feel this way.  If that is the case, I would not need to feel so guilty about what it is that I want," she concluded.  "I apologize for my bluntness," she said suddenly, her cheeks reddening even further than they already had as she realized what she had admitted to him.  She turned away, moving towards one of the windows, through which she could see that the sun had now completely gone and had been replaced by a blood red moon.  She leaned on the sill, a bit nervous about the repercussions of what she had just admitted to Story.

If she were indeed, at one point in history, that love which Story had lost, it would explain a great deal of the tension between the two.  There was a theory she had once heard, that no matter how many times a soul reincarnated, it always retained a portion of itself, even if its current host could not consciously know that part.  Part of her - a very large part of her - wanted this to be the case.  That part of her wanted to be the one he had lost - but even if it was true… she did not know what that would bring.

It was in a dragon's nature to ponder the riddle, and the divine comedy of existence. Such concepts as reincarnation were often times exclusively a humanoid phenomenon, however. Dragons had been known to live other lives, but not without some great purpose in mind beyond mere Karmic repentance - spoken by The Voice, to echo in eternity.

Story's eyes followed Dalanesca as she paced the room. He tried to imagine her in a role beyond the gloom of Porta Inferi, in a sun dress, in a field down by a mill, where he would often meet his old lover. It was the only place that they could meet in secret, away from the vampiric courts his kin had created…grand castles which now had been long fallen to the ravages of time. He pictured the goddess possessing of a care-free spirit, unburdened by the shackles of duty brought on by ascension, and the jadedness that came with loss. It was quite easy to see the past in her; even still, Story denied it, finding the concept to be improbable.

The dragon paused in his thoughts, becoming fully externally present as Dalanesca's words were focused upon him, in the here and now. His heart raced as he looked up at her, standing right before him, and opening her feelings to him. He knew it was the potent fire that flowed through him, but he felt in that moment that he might not care who she used to be. Growing sentiment for her was something that was even more difficult to admit than the possibility that they had known each other at one bleak wrinkle in time.

"You would have heart for some old thing like me…?" he more mouthed than verbalized. He was immediately caught in a sort of regret for his loose tongue, as though he could not believe he just asked the words aloud. He rose from his seat, standing mere centimeters away from the goddess. He could smell the various liquors on her, as well as the heady scent that she wore. Tenderly, he traced his hands down the backs of her arms to her hands, gently tugging so as to have her uncross her arms. He took her hands in his. "No apology is necessary, I…"
Story leaned in closer, and their lips touched, for a mere hair of a second.

The inevitable moment of clarity had arrived far too late, and stung viciously. "…Forgive me! I must take my leave,"

With these words, Story had gone from the room in an instant, having woven a spell with his sudden panic. He was first transerversed into his quarters in her realm, then from the underworld entirely, adrift on the tiny skiff that had taken him there in the beginning, many months prior.

In stark contrast to the darkness below, it was broad daylight out on the sea. The smells and sounds of the nearby port reached Story, and he collapsed into the boat, face in his hands. Breathing in the salty air made him shudder, and the moment of sobriety he'd had soon became his sole state, accompanied by a dull pain behind the eyes. He looked to the alcove where the entrance to Porta Inferi would be at night, imagining Dalanesca still standing there, lips parted in confusion. He imagined she could still see him now, and longed to simply use her power to pull him back to her. It was too late now, though.

He had made his choice.

Nothing could have prepared Dalanesca for what took place next. She had known that there was a possibility her revelation would have the impending results, but she was not ready regardless of that knowledge. When Story rose and stood so near to her, his hands gently caressing her arms before coaxing her to uncross them, every nerve in her body went on high alert. Instinctively, she curled her fingers around his own as he took her hands, speaking softly to her. She parted her lips to say something, but the words were lost as his lips brushed against her own.

As quickly as the kiss, if it could be called such a thing, had come, it was gone. He had pulled away, and his apology rang in her ears. ”Wait, don’t g-” she said, reaching out to him - but he had vanished, by some means of spellwork. For a moment, the thought crossed her mind to rush to his quarters, that perhaps he had just removed himself from the situation at a hand - but a moment of focus put that thought to rest. She had always been able to sense his presence in her realm, as it was with any living being who ventured there - but she could no longer sense Story. He was gone.

Dalanesca stood in the same place she had been, a lost look still crossing her visage. She reached up to her own face, delicately brushing her fingertips across her own lips, remembering the feeling of that incredibly brief moment. All of the build up, the anxiety over revealing her true thoughts to him - and it had culminated in his departure. She could not help but feel at fault, that she had put him into an uncomfortable situation in which he had not wanted to find himself. She dropped her hand back to her side and let loose a heavy sigh.

”Why am I even surprised?” she asked herself aloud, wandering back over to the table where her decanters of liquor sat. She poured a rather large amount into one of the tumblers and drained it fairly quickly. She felt the burn of the liquid slipping down her throat, and slumped back onto the sofa once more. Her eyes burned, and for a moment she felt as though tears were going to begin pouring forth from them. She fought them back and sat up a bit, balancing her elbow on her leg and resting her chin on her hand.

She knew she had been taking a chance when she revealed her thoughts to Story, but she had not thought that he would just up and leave. The thought crossed her mind to head out and look for him, and demand an explanation from him - but that would solve nothing. She resolved herself to thinking that there was a reason he left, and that perhaps someday she would be enlightened as to why. She leaned over to look for her decanter, at which point she realized it was empty - and that had been the last of it.

This was not a night in which she desired to be left alone with her thoughts. She was confused and tense, with confusion being the most prevalent. With a sigh, she got up from the sofa, and in the blink of an eye she was gone, having harnessed energy from the Soul Stream to bring her to the Sundering Gardens to pay a visit to Angela Rose.