Comfortable.
Warm.
Safe.
As consciousness returns to the Nord female, those were the feelings her body first registered. Then, on the next inhale, the smell of cinnamon drifts up her nose. A soft moan escapes her throat as she buries her head into where the scent was coming from, just wanting to drown in it.
Unfortunately for her, the rest of her nerve endings decides to catch up and ruin everything. First Aisling felt the slight pressure of a hand on her bare back, then her right leg was wrapped around something, followed by her hands gripping onto linen, and lastly strands of her hair being moved by slow exhales that were not her own.
Do I even want to open my eyes and see what I've gotten myself into? Of course she did, that was a stupid question.
A solitary blue orb flickers open, adapting easily to the late afternoon sunlight floating through the almost closed curtains on the windows. Her partial gaze slowly moves upward, landing on the familiar jawline of the Guild's sneak trainer. That's... something. I know he was in a chair when I passed out. Better not ask about it. Truthfully, I thought he would have been long gone by now. Why didn't he leave?
"You're thinking too hard."
Her ears twitch at the gravelly voice and Aisling moves slightly to see barely open mahogany eyes peering down at her. "I'm always thinking."
"There's times when you do it when the act's not necessary," Delvin murmurs as he brushes some rogue auburn hair from her line of sight. "But, I'll take the bait. What were you thinking about?"
"I was wondering why you were still here? You were in no obligation to stay."
"You asked me to stay, and I told you I would be here when you opened your eyes. I might not be a Nord, and I may be a thief, but I do try to keep my word when I give it." He gives the woman next to him a wry smile and adds "Unlike another person we both know."
"And this?"
"I am great at many things, unfortunately, falling asleep in a chair is not one of them. I swear to Nocturnal that I was on the other half of the bed when I joined you. This," the man lifts his hand from her back and gestures over them slowly, "happened of its own volition... I apologize if you feel awkward, Boss."
"No," she tells him, lowering her head back down to where it was originally on his chest. "It...was possibly the best sleep I've had in months, Del." Another yawn escapes her, and the woman sighs. "Guess the body wants more rest... I'll understand if you need to leave though. I've kept you away from stalking Vex all day."
"Just rest, Aisiling." The hand that the thief moved a few moments ago returned to its place on the small of his Guild Master's back. "If you want me to go, just say the word and I'll head back to the Flagon," the older male goes quietly, pressing dry lips into her hair.
He feels her hands grip just a little tighter on his tunic, followed by a small shake of her head in the negative. "Stay? Just a little while longer?"
"For you? Anything."
(Why can't I get a bloody line break here I'll never know. Bugger it all)
Support.
Honor.
Protect.
This time it was Delvin who entered the realm of wakefulness first, sleep encrusted eyes opening to a dim living space, shadows being cast across the room by the early rays of dawn filtering through the window. From what he could see, the pair had shifted positions during the night- Aisling was sprawled out on her back with an arm tucked under him and against his lower back; he was curled into her side, his left leg over hers, and his nose buried into the side of her neck. A slow inhale blesses him with the smell of snowberries, soft and unassuming, hiding the easily overlooked intoxicating scent of nightshade. The hand that was against her back last night was now cupping a half covered hip, pressing her into his... Oh boy.
It seems that the sneak trainer wasn't the only who realized what the morning gifted him. "Morning to you too," the Nord female murmurs as she stretches, partially pinned underneath him. "Dreamin' bout Vex again?" Blue orbs veiled with sleep peer out of the corner of her eyes as she gives him a slight teasing smile. "Don't worry, I won't be too insulted if you were... Though you might have to buy my silence to not tell her."
"Actually, I wasn't."
"Oh?"
"What goes through the Guild Master's mind when she sleeps?"
Aisling laughs softly at the change in topic, turning her head towards him. "I dream, just as much as the next person."
"That's not an answer," he goes, then a strange look crosses his face. "Was it of Bryn?"
"Hardly. As I said, not a bedpost I want to be a notch on. But yes. It was of a person- my unobtainable, so to speak."
A brownish gray eyebrow arches slightly- now that was something he didn't know about his Guild Master. "Married?"
"No, but the heart's spoken for, unfortunately. Do I hold out some iota of hope? Of course, because in the end, hope's all I have." Before the ginger female could say more, her stomach lets out a growl of protest, Delvin's responding so as not to be outdone. "Well then, guess I should take care of that. Prefer anything specific?"
"I'd be content with just a sweet roll and some mead, to be honest. No need to put yourself out, Aisling."
"You're the someone who stole my sweetroll..." She snorts and manages to peel herself away from both the Breton and the bed, her bare feet not making a sound as she heads towards the kitchen area, pausing only to grab a tunic from a drawer. "Spoken like a true single male. Don't worry, I enjoy cooking... Just don't tell Vekel, lest he either tries to con me into cooking for the whole guild or think I don't eat his food because it's crap."
An abrupt knock on the door distracts the pair from their conversation. "Who... What now?" the Guild Master goes with a sigh, quickly putting the shirt on before unlocking the door. Cracking it, she sees a courier leaning against the side of her home, puffing slightly. "Which idiot is demanding my attentions?" Taking the offered parchment she looks at the seal and just barely bites back a snarl.
"Oblivion take him, what does he want now? Of course the damned bastard would find a way to ruin my first decent night of sleep in months!" Reaching onto a shelf, the woman grabs a small pouch and hands it over to the courier. "Thank you." Without another word, she shuts the door, squeezing the missive in her fist.
"What is it?"
Aisling doesn't answer, just breaks the seal and starts to read:
Stormblade,
I have need of your services once more. Please come to Windhelm as soon as you get this.
Ulfric Stormcloak,
High King of Skyrim
Then she sees a less formal postscript underneath it:
Aisling,
I know I am possibly the last person you would want to do any sort of duty for- after how we parted ways at the end of the war, I would not blame you. However, as Galmar loves to remind me every time, you're the best we have. Please, Dii Vahdin.
Ulfric
"Damn you. Damn you to the Evergloam, with a brief visit to the Void." Anger filled eyes look up at Delvin, who was leaning against the wall by the fireplace. "I'm afraid I have to put making breakfast on hold for a bit, Del."
"What's wrong Aisling? Who was that from?"
Without a word, the Nord hands the parchment over to the trainer, then stalks down into the basement where various pieces of armor were stored.
"You shouldn't go, at least, not alone," he tells her as he moves to the stop of the steps, respecting her privacy while still continuing the conversation.
A huff floats up the stairwell as he hears the opening and shutting of drawers, the ruffling of leather and the clanking of metal. "Believe me, Mallory. I do not want to go; it's probably the one hold I'm no longer keen on working in- you know as well as Vex I turn down almost every job you have that gets me within five miles of Windhelm. Yet, he is my Jarl and I am his Thane; he is my King and I am his Stormblade. I'm doubly bound to his service- when he calls I must answer...and the bastard knows it, too. Won't let me forget it either."
Soft steps are heard coming back up the stairs and the woman steps back onto the landing, this time clad in her Stormcloak Officer armor, a daedric sword in a scabbard at her hip. "Aisling, not that I'm complaining about how that gear looks on you, but you're going to Eastmarch. It's cold everywhere above Whiterun."
A bare hand cups the side of his face softly. "Silly Breton, I'm a Nord. Cold is nothing in the grand scheme of things. You just don't dress warm enough." She picks up a backpack by the door, preemptively packed in the case she had to leave home at a moment's notice, then pulls a key out from under a pauldron and holds it out to the trainer. "I don't know what the royal asshole needs me to do, so I don't know when I'll be back. You and Bryn are in charge- please keep him in check, and make sure he actually does work. Key's for the house, in case you need to get away from the cistern. I just ask you not bring any visitors- especially of the female variety- over my home's threshold while I'm away from Riften. I might trust you with full access, Delvin, but not anyone else."
The Breton takes the offering without a word and slips it into one of the many pockets of his armor. "Are you sure you will be alright, Boss?" His eyes narrow as she stands there looking at him, hand on the door's handle. Finally he sees Aisling's shoulders shrug slightly.
"Won't know 'til I get there," she goes quietly, then leans over and brushes her lips against his cheek, allowing the cinnamon smell to wash over her one last time. "Eyes open, Del." Without waiting for a response, the woman slips out her front door into the early morning light, not bothering to shut it behind her.
Topaz eyes blink slowly as the lighting changes in the room, a lone finger coming up to touch heated skin. Nocturnal watch over you, Boss. Come back to us.
Translations:
Dii Vahdin: My Lady (translated by - it's been a lifesaver for some other things I've been trying to hash out)