The topic changes off of the possibility of ghosts and the supernatural with ease, the pair of them sliding into more familiar territory as they entwine themselves in one another. She hears him purr softly as she presses her nose into the crook of his neck, taking a deep breath and just enjoying being so close to him in such a manner right now.

"Thats the name of it. It seemed safer than some of the other places in this land. What with the boy-king of Caladan aiming rip my face off." She said with a huff. She would've preferred living at the shores, but she refused to allow a man to lord over her in such a manner.

Casually leaving out the bit about her part in egging him to the point of attacking her. There was no need to reveal everything that happened. (Little did she know @Rhys had been there watching the ordeal.)

A rumble escaped her as he revealed his own change of scenery. "I'd presume no one truly commands you though, yes?" She said, her voice sliding into a slightly sultry purr as she spoke.

Interesting knowledge though - that the Andal king was a friend to his father. "Here I thought you didn't want to be tied to your fqther." Órlaith said, her brow furrowing slightly as she pulled back to see what he was thinking if she could get a read on it.

text. "speech."

Art by Drifty | Table code by Zodiac

The bite of the chill is easier to chase off with their shared heat. Rhys can almost forget what had brought them here in the first place, content instead to lose himself in her mountain-touched scent, and the steady rise and fall of her chest with every breath. His eyes slip contentedly closed, leaning into her embrace, until—

—What with the boy-king of Caladan aiming rip my face off.

Recognition flashes in his eyes, but it is well-hidden with his head atop hers. He cannot stifle his flinch, however, and it is easier to embrace it. He knows better than to think Órlaith a fool.

Ah, yes, the king of Caladan, he purrs, his tone entirely playful, My darling half-brother.

He had seen the man ascend the throne and claim his titles. Just as much the conqueror Kvare hoped of his sons, likely born into wealth and doted upon as a boy prince, and given more than just a name and a hopeless, last-ditch plead to realize an old man's dreams. Drauhir, for his part, would at least not lead the family into doom.

And Rhys could continue to use his name when and where he pleases. The only gift his father ever gave him.

I'd presume no one truly commands you though, yes?

He smiles. Ao gīmigon issa sīr sȳrī, raqagon.

Here I thought you didn't want to be tied to your father.

I don't, he admits, suddenly much preferring losing his words against her lips, snuffing out thoughts of fathers and boy kings with thoughts of only her, and here, and now. And that is why only you and the Andal king know.

Liar.

---

@Órlaith
¹ You know me so well, my dear.

She wasn't much a fan of the cold and icy north - but it would do as a home base for the time being. At least it gave her a place to go back to, and a place where she could easily get a meal should she need it. Being in a pride had some perks at the least - even if she didn't really like living where she was at the moment. It meant safety, and no starvation at the very least.

She feels him slip further into their embrace, and then she feels him flinch as she mentions the boy-king of Caladan. "Could've told me that the last time we met - or were you unaware of his ascension into power then?" Órlaith asked, her tone questioning rather than accusatory. She knew @Rhys - and she figured if he had know he would've said something to her about it.

The smile that crosses his face as she speaks of no one commanding him causes a chuckle to escape her. "Would you be opposed to little me commanding you for a little while at the least?" She asked, a sultry purr in her voice as she spoke. Regardless of what had happened - she still loved to play the game she and Rhys had. Whatever it was anyways.

As his lips press against hers with his next words, she allows herself to fall deeper into his embrace, letting him lead where they went next. Supernatural and otherworldly things forgotten for the time being.

text. "speech."

Art by Drifty | Table code by Zodiac

Could've told me that the last time we met, she chides gently, and Rhys lifts a brow, or were you unaware of his ascension into power then?

He'd been entirely away of Drauhir's victory, but it had come in a series of others that had all subsequently shaken the foundations of Amaryllisian politics. He'd known that Órlaith was scouting out the prides for a time—and he'd not need to have been there to know that if his brother truly is a Tollaire, he would have made such a fact known to her.

Instead, he resigns with a cheeky grin—My bad.

He could ask her a million questions, half of which he already knew the answer to. But rather than perpetuate the topic, he allows himself to fall into the intoxicating lull of her embrace. Her words are a whispered plea against his mouth, one that elicits a pleasant shudder that claws up his back.

Not at all, he whispers in reply, Udrāzma nyke.

---

@Órlaith
¹ Command me.

The cheeky grin told her all she needed to know - along with his simple My bad. As much as she wanted to be mad at @Rhy... she just couldn't be for whatever reason. He had her caught in his net, even if she didn't realize it at the time.

A paw lifts and she aims to gently and playfully bat at his ear. "You owe me then, siúcra" She murmured, eyes sparkling with playful amusement as she spoke.

All issues forgotten for the moment, the pair of them fall into the intoxicating presence of each other. Her question of is he'd be opposed to her commanding him even for a short while.

Eyes sparkled again, tail curling around her hindquarters. "Show me the depth of your feelings. Make me yours for the night. Do what you desire with me." Órlaith purred. She would aim to press herself even closer to him, curling around him as she did so.

-fade to black?-

text. "speech."

Art by Drifty | Table code by Zodiac

He's thankful that the topic of his brother has come to pass. Nothing is more mood-killing than thinking about estranged family. Ghosts and politics forgotten, even the scorched, heavy smoke around them seems to relax, and in the absence of the cold comes a blooming, welcome warmth. Rhys lets out a soft laugh as Órlaith paws at his ear, peeking only one eye open as she speaks.

Show me the depth of your feelings, she purrs, and Rhys feels a stutter in his chest that threatens to derail his steady heartbeat. Make me yours for the night. Do what you desire with me.

He sucks in a breath, convincing himself that it's merely pillow talk, isn't it? Órlaith and him had an understanding just as he and Mina did, and he and Leonidas. A duet of give and take, trades of knowledge and company and sex when and where it suits them. Simple, transactional, unattached.

Certainly she understands, right?

Right now, however, he finds he does not care. Regrets are better had in the morning.

So he sweeps her into a kiss, and lets her command him as she pleases.

---

Fade to black.

Time passes, and when they come back to this world, the world has grown dark around them. She is still wrapped in his arms, and she does not wish to leave. Her tail flicks behind her lazily, a soft purr escaping her as she relaxes in his arms.

She does not understand the depth of her feelings for the man next to her.

In her mind at the moment, she thinks its just infatuation. Just enjoyment of a fun friend.

Aiming to nudge him gently, the red and white lioness would aim to rouse him as well.

"I hate to break the mood..." She murmured. "But we should discuss some things." Órlaith said softly. Mainly how he would refer to her when they weren't alone.

"If you see me when others are around - I am not Órlaith. I'm Rhynne Holt." She said, aiming to stay cuddled up against him while they spoke. She was too comfortable to move at the moment - but she also didn't want her identity to be compromised by accident.

@Rhys

text. "speech."

Art by Drifty | Table code by Zodiac

Usually, sleep proceeds such an ardent affair, but Órlaith is decidedly awake. Rhys mumbles in protest as he rolls onto his back, exposing a furl of dark fur that trails down to his belly. Atop him, she is still cradled in his arms, a mass of star-speckled crimson that is swallowed by his swath of black and russet.

I hate to break the mood... she begins, and is met with the single quirk of one of his brows. But we should discuss some things.

Oh?

If you see me when others are around - I am not Órlaith. I'm Rhynne Holt.

Perhaps it is a move he should have made himself. Mina had certainly chided him for telling the truth of his identity to the rulers of Andal. But if he had not, then his particular closeness with Leonidas might have earned more scrutiny than he does under the guise of politics and ancestral alliances.

He is trying, desperately, to wield his name carefully. He's not fool enough to ruin it for her, either.

Very well, he purrs with a smirk, trailing a single claw up the curve of her spine. Rhynne.

---

@Órlaith