1. Matvi Iramene

    Private The Wake of a Wound

    Matvi felt the touch linger against the curve of his bone. Looked into those eyes that looked up at him, and felt something shift inside him. A change. Maybe it was the look in her eye. And how open and full they were. Wanting. A sweet, absolute sincerity. "But of course," he says. Eyes...
  2. Matvi Iramene

    Private Sang the Fiddler's Bow

    Sure hands cupped about the vase, steadying the breadth of its wobbly weight. Lip upturned, and brow cocked as the fern rustled and shook itself to stillness. Let a hand trace about the broad digits of the sailor so plum colored and fair. Pads of fingers tracing thick bones, and resting on the...
  3. Matvi Iramene

    Private The Wake of a Wound

    Matvi raised a brow as the other knights left the Bar. A smirk there upon his lips, for the privacy they had been given. "What a considerate soul," the Medicant said as he let his hands down unto the bar. No shame in the curl of his lips as he tracked that Syr he knew as Syr Barthalo of Dawn...
  4. Matvi Iramene

    Private The Wake of a Wound

    Matvi did not hide his eyes from her. Studying how she moved about that space he took such pride in working behind. A gleam of sharpness there in his mismatched eyes. The dark blue of one, with the scarred silver of the other. Measured. Judged. And when she laughed, small and sweet as the sound...
  5. Matvi Iramene

    Open Buried Roots [KoA]

    Matvi eyed the Dawnling, and all the wreck that she was. Took bets with Etivya once that the pair of them would come back hitched after one of their little trips. Huffed at that. Let his eyes settle to the pillar, and all the old guardians carved there into the dried body of it. The fox, and...
  6. Matvi Iramene

    Open Buried Roots [KoA]

    A hand snatched up the bottle from Monroe's loose grip. Deft as it was, and drunk as she was, it was an easy thing to do. Easy as pouring a drink really. Not that Monroe would know anything about that. "To the poor sods," Matvi said to the Dawnling, just there between them. Drank the last sip...
  7. Matvi Iramene

    Private Sang the Fiddler's Bow

    Breath swirled across his shoulder, tickled his neck, and had his blood running hot. Each little rumble of muted voice that shook through the Big man's bones jiggled soft through his plushing girth. "Well," Matvi cooed. "Isn't that lavish," each syllable fell a warm hush from his lips. He turned...
  8. Matvi Iramene

    Private The Wake of a Wound

    His eyes watched as she watched and moved. The long moments that stretched between them before turning to small grasps for bottles, and twists of cork. Delicate hands careful with their work. "Gimlets... are easy," Matvi laughed. "They are that," he inclined, let his hair back with a push of...
  9. Matvi Iramene

    Private Sang the Fiddler's Bow

    "Pearchance," Matvi played along with a laugh. "You'll nail this one down" he said with a little wiggle and grind as a leg twined about ankle. "Though careful," let his bones wind up the meat of calf and brace of shin. Clinked cups. "I might be more slippery than any eel," Anala groaned...
  10. Matvi Iramene

    Private The Wake of a Wound

    A snort of laughter. He couldn't help but smile at it. "My," he cooed along. "What an unsightly sound," he played. "Not befitting of the proud and illustrious name you carry," he needled, as only a medicant might. "Syr Kerrigan," Watched her a moment as the flames painted the round of her...
  11. Matvi Iramene

    Private Sang the Fiddler's Bow

    "Fresh and green," Matvi cooed, all the more snug under Jen's comfortable palm and pads. "I had already thought it green apple," his tone dismissed the idea. "But it always comes out, just a bit too tart," he confessed, leaning his weight against the sailor's broadside as he whispered the words...
  12. Matvi Iramene

    Private The Wake of a Wound

    Matvi listened. For what else was one to do at times like this. The fire popping and hissing. Almost its own invitation. And oh, how he wanted to toss that little piece of parchment right in to those hungry flames. Watch their tongues of gold lick and swirl all at once about the paper finery...
  13. Matvi Iramene

    Private The Wake of a Wound

    Come the plea. Not once, but twice. And there upon the must and please, he inclined his head in surrender. "As you wish, Caelia," he intoned. Let the letter up from his lap, eyes sharp to the scrawl of ink across the Aetochin parchment. Perfumed and pressed as it was. Cleared his throat...
  14. Matvi Iramene

    Private The Wake of a Wound

    His hand would not waver, nor would it reach out any further than it needed. "I would not offer it otherwise," he said, tone firm and delicate. "Alright..." she began, and let the sealed message hang just before his grasp. Worries spilling out. "I'm very anxious, especially of the contents."...
  15. Matvi Iramene

    Private The Wake of a Wound

    Quiet wrapped around Matvi like a wellworn cloak. His eyes easy as they regarded Caelia. His face a pleasant calm as he folded one leg over the other, fingers twined, and pointers steepled before his lips. The way she looked down. So close to falling to the feeling this letter had placed in...
See more
Back
Top Bottom