[Open] Where There Is No Wine

[judgemewhole]

WHO: James Norrington and You. Yes you.
WHAT: Drinking wine solves everything. Or at least that is what James is trying out this month.
WHEN: After the Tevinter debacle
WHERE: The Blooming Rose - he's only there for the good vintages and the chess games, kids.
NOTES: Warnings for talk of torture, bloodshed, and general warning for drunk James

There are times in one's life where one simply wants to blot out a few of the worse hours of their lives. For fewer, it is days, perhaps even weeks. Very few want to blot out about four months worth of time from their memory, but after returning, barely, from Tevinter?

James Norrington, Knight Commander and 'fed-up with being calm, polite, and gritting his teeth', had decided to get absolutely and totally shit-faced. He was also going to get shit-faced in the best brothel in all of Kirkwall, but honestly it was because their wine cellar was second to none, and all of the ... employees of the establishment were more than willing to get 'paid' for their time with a glass of wine and a good chess game.

He didn't just disappear from his office. He wasn't off to have a bender and never be seen again. There was a note tacked to the door of his quarters, and his office, in the same bold print so anyone could find him if they really desired to.

It said simply, Off to share the Maker's love at the Blooming Rose. Blessing the fallen with holy wine. Please join if you are looking to save the sinners and enjoy a good Red from Antiva. - J. Norrington

He was saving them, persay. They wouldn't have to sell their bodies for at least an hour or two while playing chess with James. It totally counted as an act of charity from a member of the Templar Order. If he got to drink wine along with it, well, he was just blessing himself.

He needed a lot of damned blessings.

Comments

[bouclier]

"You know, I don't pine," she presses her lips together, looking down at her glass of wine, absently rotating it on the table with her fingers on the stem. "I am a conqueror. If there is something I want, I claim it." Her eyes lift to his, steady for a moment, before she looks down again, lifting her glass and taking a sip.

"But you turned me down, and suddenly I found myself pining. My sister has let men destroy her, but that isn't me. I thought about you more than I would have otherwise, but I wasn't undone by your desiring someone else." She exhales, setting her glass down again, biting her bottom lip as she looks up at James again, considering.

"I care about you, James. Enough, that I would give you the opportunity to make up for driving me to such borderline frivolity."

[judgemewhole]

As well you shouldn't. Not over a daft fool like myself. is James's internal thought, as he takes another sip of wine. Letting her air her grievances with him. What she says next, though, has him taking the glass from his mouth, and slowly putting it down on the table.

All the better so he can stare at her with disbelief. He searches her expression, looking for ... he's not entirely certain. Evie would never lie to him, never lead him astray. It was against her very core of honor.

He leaned in across the table, still searching her face. "Evie ... I don't deserve it. I know I certainly don't deserve you." He is quiet for a moment, "...I would like to be."

[bouclier]

She stays as she is as he leans in, but her eyes track his movement, and she turns her glass again.

"This could, of course, end in absolute disaster. I'm not... great with feelings." Which is probably why it had knocked her for such a loop when James had decided he'd rather pursue someone else than sleep with her. Avoiding the relationship aspect with people has become something of a specialty of hers.

"But I'd be willing to try, if you are."

[judgemewhole]

He paused for a moment, before chuffing out a noise somewhere between a snort and a bitter laugh. "Well, I am excellent at feelings, apparently, and crap at turning a woman on fire -- so. I suppose we shall meet somewhere in the middle."

He looks at her again, searching her face, before he says simply, "I am currently a drunken mess. After I sober up, there will still be a great deal here that is scarred, tired, and rather unpleasant. Are you certain, Evie?"

[bouclier]

She lets out a laugh, leaning forward and resting her elbows against the table as she brings her face level with his.

"I think I can handle it. Provided you remember any of this in the morning." Given that he seems sober enough to be having the conversation in the first place she thinks there's a fair chance, but some people are more eloquent blackout drunks than others.

[judgemewhole]

"I have, alas, a sharp mind and even when I dull it with drink ...I know that I shall remember every iota of anything I may of said or done." He gave her a wry smile, before gesturing solemnly around her, "Why do you think I keep myself to a place where I know I would not give into the desires of the flesh?"

A pause, then he cleared his throat, feeling his face flush and not from wine. "... I mean, besides the person in front of me. That is a given."

[bouclier]

Her smile widens as he flushes, and she tilts her head to the side, lips pressed together for a moment.

"Ordinarily I would encourage you to give in to such desires immediately. But in light of our conversation, perhaps that should wait until another night." As much as she hated saying so. She's not a woman who restrains herself in matters of the flesh, but she has some tact when it comes to more emotional matters.

[judgemewhole]

"Yes, I would rather be sober on the night we officially become lovers, thank you so much." He snorted softly, as he looked down at his goblet. "One would not want to have performance issues on top of being ...extremely rusty in certain areas."

He lifted his gaze, and his expression was quieter now, a quiet smile on his face, "So where would you like to start, dear Evie?"

[bouclier]

"Oh, I know a few exercises that are good for working out rust," she replies somewhat coyly, her fingers dancing idly across the rim of her glass. When he looks up her smile softens, a peculiar fluttering in her stomach.

"My darling James," she reaches across the table, seeking his hand. "I have no idea. I've never done this. The closest I had was a near-engagement when I was younger, but that was to Valentine and... mostly a game we were both playing."

[judgemewhole]

He gave her a playful eyeroll, "Yes, of course you do. I wouldn't be surprised if there was an Orlesian manual on such a topic."

His fingers wrapped around hers, lightly, because such things were undeniably fragile. "I see ... well. Since all the courting things I have ever done have failed miserably, I suggest we just make our own way. May I offer you another glass of wine?"

[bouclier]

Her hands, in spite of the callouses built up from years of holding a sword and shield, are otherwise soft, an obvious testament to a rigorous moisturizing regime. She is an Orlesian after all.

"Making our own way sounds ideal. As does another glass of wine." She lifts her nearly empty glass with her free hand and empties it with a smile, replacing it on the table. "I'm impressed with the quality, here. I wouldn't think a brothel would be discerning with their wines."

[judgemewhole]

While his are rough from all of the above. He is not one for softness, but that might be something of a lie by the look in his eyes at her.

"A noble clientele needs a noble bottle. Or two, or three. Believe me I am paying out of the nose for it." He snorts softly, before he refills both of their glasses from his own bottle.