Aleron Darton (
lifeofendurance) wrote in
faderift2017-09-20 09:36 am
Entry tags:
[Closed] Homecoming
WHO: Bethany and Al
WHAT: Al's back, Beth's back. Smooching ensues.
WHEN: After the island hoopla.
WHERE: Kirkwall, Gallows, their quarters
NOTES: FLUFF AND SMUSH. Additionally, maybe they should get a house? idk
WHAT: Al's back, Beth's back. Smooching ensues.
WHEN: After the island hoopla.
WHERE: Kirkwall, Gallows, their quarters
NOTES: FLUFF AND SMUSH. Additionally, maybe they should get a house? idk
The best part about coming home after being out on a covert investigative trip is... not being able to get in the door for all the crates. Aleron's patience is sturdy and unshakeable, but there are times it's very much challenged and this is one of them. A cursory examination of the shipping labels has the majority of these items coming from Orlais with a decent amount also coming out of Kaiten. Mama and Ravonild.
Each of the crates seems to have come with its own missive, hand written, not just detailing the contents but the purpose of it:
'This is the latest fashion out of Kaiten, which you are ignorant of, but would be most pleasing on your pretty wife. I have taken the liberty of rectifying your lack of concern for appearances and...'
'Darling, you must permit me to spoil you children' Not that they've either of them been children for some decades now. 'I am most certain that you are not doing an adequate job of presenting gifts to my beloved daughter-in-law. Therefore, I have sent you an offering which you may present and take the credit for.'
If crate upon crate of dresses and accessories weren't enough to wade through, there's a pile of correspondence waiting also. His favorite. Some of it's not so bad. A letter from Layla about her family, how the new baby is flourishing. Ravonild leaving not-so-subtle hints that she would like to foster Bryce with his uncle. Word from an old friend of his adolescence who didn't succeed with the Seekers and moved on to a private life. Financial statements from his mother's and sister's stewards. Less pleasant, are his twin's inane blathering about fashion and scandals among people he neither knows or cares about. Angry rants about Cade from people with opinions but no facts: he didn't do enough, he went too far. The worst, there's a long series of missives from Mama which grow more and more scathing for his neglect of her and demands for a reply.
He's halfway through that abusive series when his stoicism breaks. "Well, shit."
Aleron and Bethany have a problem. Mama insists on visiting. Maker, why?

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Without any further warning, he scoops up Bethany into his arms to carry her. Not that it's particularly easy to navigate the maze while holding a pretty lady, but ultimately he considers it worth the challenge of effort when he reaches a chair and settles her on his lap.
This is much much better.
As it turns out, the stoic Seeker is a snuggler.
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Then she's being picked up and it's with a little squeal and a laugh, as she puts her arms around his neck and kisses him a few times. And once more when she's in his lap, and she curls up, resting her head against his shoulder once more.
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He sighs softly, contented. No, not contented. As Aleron's come to realize, he's deliriously happy and that is not something he would have thought possible a scant two years ago. This is good. Their life together is good. All that he could ever possibly want is right in his arms.
"I could want for nothing else but what I hold right now."
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A pleased blush comes over her cheeks, and she leans up to kiss him firmly, and warmly, on the lips, leaving her hands in his golden hair.
"You are too darling for words, and I couldn't ask for a better partner and husband if I made him up in my mind." She teased gently, "Are you sure you're not from some dream?"
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"Quite certain. Though if this is a dream, I don't care to wake." Scandalous? Dancing on the edges of blasphemy? Quite possibly, but Aleron doesn't give a rip. He runs a hand down her side, settling it on Bethany's hip while contemplating leading her off to bed for a proper reunion.
...but the clutter.
He glances to the jumble of gifts and crates and audibly groans, while nuzzling his face into his pretty wife's neck. "I cannot believe I'm about to say this, but... I think Ravonild might be right." That requires clarification, stat. "I do believe we're far overdue for a home of our own. With space. And no obstructions." Not that the clutter is stopping him from nibbling lightly on her ear.
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A flush touches her cheek - she knows what happens when one hand wanders down her side - but then she too, looks around. "...Well, I cannot believe this myself, but I agree darling. We do need a home of our own."
She sighs as she looks around. "As we are going to be overwhelmed by proper fashion."
She leans more into him, sliding her fingers along his jaw. She does always like ear nibbling.