staysail | inbox.

[ When Yseult nods it's near enough for her hair to brush his jaw, before she lifts her head to press a kiss to his cheek. The hand she slips free of his hold is only to set on his opposite cheek, thumb swiped tenderly across the bone. She leaves it there for another moment, before drawing away enough to twist and collect her wine again.

And his, too, which she offers back to Darras as she rearranges herself comfortably at his side again. There's an air of closing a file, opening another. ]

So you were confiding in Silver?

[Kissed, and kissed well, Darras takes back his wine. Hot wine and a hot wife, what more can a man ask for?]

You don't want to know how often and how keenly I talk of you outside of dreaming, never mind in dreams where I've become close mates and confidants with someone. You'll push me out that window. After you kiss me agian.

[ She obliges him with another kiss, this one a closed-lip press so she can hum a noise of distaste as she does it. Not at the kiss itself, of course. Everything else. ]

I might just. What have you been telling them about me, precisely?

[He settles his arm around her after that second kiss, keeping her close. The feeling of it lingers, a gentle reminder.]

Of course I said you've got freckles on the backs of your knees.

I suppose you told them about the constellation on my ankle as well [ she says in a dark tone. A dire revelation indeed. ]

I practically wrote a poem about the constellation on your ankle.

[Very serious. He casts his eyes up toward the ceiling to try to disguise his smile.]

And I talked about how great of a mother you were. Will be.

[ This time the face she pulls is real. ]

I'd rather a dozen poems about freckles than that.

[He laughs.]

Really. Even if I'm more complimentary about it? And that's hard to imagine, I know, given how I speak of your freckles.

Really. [ She flicks a finger against his shoulder at the laugh. ] I'd prefer they didn't know.

Well, it was a dream. Likely all forgotten.

[He grabs for her hand so she can't flick his shoulder again. And, you know, just because he wants to hold her hand.]

I didn't speak of you that much. Even then, I remember knowing that you didn't want yourself to be too known. I love knowing you, so I know that about you.

[ She tugs on his hand like she might try to pull away, but really just pulls his arm near, trapping it across her body beneath her other arm. ]

You do. Only you get to know these things. [ Or so she'd prefer, anyway. ] Though they may not forget the baby.

They might. [Hope, for two seconds, before he corrects himself:] Likely they won't. But it was only a dream, they'll tell themselves. Or you could give them something to distract them.

[ That gets him a sidelong look. ] Such as?

[He shrugs, without looking at her, while still looking at her out of the corner of his eye. Very casual and matter-of-fact, this is a serious suggestion--]

Can't you do a handstand and juggle with your feet?