The Fall of Marigill (closed for Poprockz)

[Poprockz]

Dremara glanced over at the noise and noticed the bandages Nettie had left for her. Only then did she notice that he was bleeding once more. She felt a bit of guilt settling into her stomach; she had been so single-mindedly focusing on her task that she hadn’t noticed his wounds having opened back up. The very wounds he had earned making sure that they weren't devoured.

Her hands were slick with lotion, so she went to wash up before coming back to treat him. She took the damp cloth Nettie had also provided and started to gently clean the blood from his arm, wiping on the skin itself and dabbing when it came to the cut. Once it was mostly clean, she started to wrap the bandage around it as well. This was the first time she had ever dressed someone’s wounds, seeing as she had never been allowed to be near any such conflicts. Even if she had been, no one would have expected for her to help the medics in their duties. Dremara hoped it wasn’t too tight or too loose, trying to make in snug but not uncomfortable. When it was completely wrapped, she found herself with the end of a bandage and nowhere to tie it off. Her eyes went to Nettie beseechingly and the handmaiden came to her to show her how to use the small tin of sap she hadn’t thought to use in order to secure the end.

The princess was satisfied with that one, but he still had other wounds to be addressed: a gash on his other arm, one on his side, and one on his thigh. The other arm was taken care of in short order, but the one on his side was going to be tricky. She eyed it for a moment before taking a loop of the bandage and leaning in closer. Her intention had been to wrap her arms around him (without making contact of course) and pass the roll from one hand to the other, keeping a hold on the end so she could start to wrap him.

However, the man's broad torso made this nigh impossible. She couldn't reach her other hand without actually making contact with him, so she decided to simply do so. This was for medical purposes, after all. Nothing wrong with that. Her body pressed up against his back as she reached around him to do the hand-off, though to her frustration, she still couldn't quite reach. Being careful to avoid his injury, she tried again, desperately trying to strain to reach her other hand. An undignified grunt of frustration could be heard behind him as the smooshed princess flailed her hands ineffectively.

 

[draco519]

Orson watched the way her hands moved; and it was quite obvious she’d never bandaged a fallen warrior before. Though she wasn’t without some skill. If his wounds were any deeper and in need of serious care? He’d need to find, quite literally, anyone else. At least until she had more practice. Perhaps she’d take up the healing arts as she learned more of her abilities.

He wasn’t sure how long it was before he took a breath when he felt her body pressing into his back; it had bated, pausing in time. He closed his eyes at the feel. Bare chested after his bath, her silks against his back were among the softest fabrics he’d ever had the privilege of gracing his skin. He took a moment to revel in the rich weave before he looked down, having been holding his arms up as she attempted to cross the plane of his torso with the bandage.

He bit his tongue not to laugh at the flailing arms. But he did look up at Nettie, amusement dancing in his gaze. Reaching down, he took the bandage and unrolled it a few times before he placed it in her opposite hand. “Clearly they do not make bandages the way they used to.. He allowed Dremara not to be embarrassed while still making attempt to inject humor in the situation. He then waited to pass it to and fro thrice more; until she had no more need to wrap and was satisfied with the bandage on his side.

“You’re quickly learning.” He added, getting a little breath and it wasn’t too tight to do so.

 

[Poprockz]

“Clearly not,” she had responded in agreement. Though she knew he was aware that it was her own ineptitude. It wasn’t her fault that her arms couldn’t reach around the bear of a man, but she should have thought to ask for Nettie’s help with it. This passing the bandages back and forth wasn’t a bad solution though.

The compliment didn’t go amiss, and she smiled to herself. “Thank you,” she replied. “This is not my area of expertise, but I would always endeavor to do a good job in whatever I set my mind to.”

And now… the dreaded thigh. She had half a mind to have Nettie do it, but she knew she would never live it down from either of them if she gave in to that urge. No, the only thing to do was forge her way forward and pretend that this was a normal thing that didn’t bother her in the slightest.

His legs were already far enough apart that she didn’t need to ask him to move at all, the princess simply kneeling near where he sat and leaning forward so she could do the wrapping. The problem was that the wound seemed to be under his kilt, though likely not too far. Hopefully. She had spotted it only because of the blood having dripped down past the hem.

“Can you perhaps… lift your kilt until the wound is exposed?” She asked nervously.

 

[draco519]

Orson reached down, gathering up the hem of the kilt and lifted it up, but it was uncomfortable. High up on his leg, where he’d be sitting bare-assed on the wooden chest. Rather than fight with the kilt any further, he simply reached to his side and pulled the front of the kilt across his body. Exposing all of himself to Dremara; where the cut would have proven fatal had it been deeper. Catching his femoral artery and bleeding him out like a stuck pig.

He genuinely hadn’t thought about what he’d done; though the look on her face? She was thinking many things about it. Before she could simply stand and storm off? He brought the kilt back, covering his other two legs. It was enough of a compromise, he thought. Scooting a tad closer to the edge of the chest, he exposed his thigh as best he could without simply doing away with the kilt altogether. It was an awkward bit of bargaining to get it properly done. Though.. At this point? It wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before. He understood her hesitation; a highborn woman taught that her flower was everything that made her honorable and trustworthy.

Part of him wondered how she felt about it. Especially now that she’d learned of Graveth and his secret bastard son. Like Dremara, Orson hadn’t been entirely sure what to do with that information when the good Duke disclosed it after a bit of… well, after the Kota had asked it of him. He hadn’t been sure of whether or not it was even true until Graveth himself confirmed it at the dinner table. The outcome of the negotiations had been rather favorable; and his greatest leverage hinged on the biggest bluff he’d ever successfully pulled off. Perhaps he should gamble more often. With all that in mind… What did Dremara think of her purity now? Surely it crossed her mind, these weeks together in these chambers. Being in such a proximity to him... He knew how he saw it.

It was hers to give. It was his to take.

 

[Poprockz]

She was indeed thinking... many things. Were she a more delicate lady, she may have even fainted. When she had seen him naked in the mirror's reflection, there was at least a bit of distance between them. Now? His cock was less than arms-length from her face. She could see it in all of its thick, hefty glory. By the Gods! How was such a thing supposed to enter a woman?! She wasn't the foremost expert on sex (quite the opposite, not surprisingly), but at the very least she knew that the man inserted himself between a woman's legs, implanted his seed, and then it was over. Once a conversation had been overheard where a less-than-sober woman of the court had tittered about how she kept up on all the latest news by reading while having her nightly appointments with her husband. Dremara doubted very much that there would be any reading happening in the bedroom for herself.

No... she assumed that all that awaited her was pain and duty, and quite possibly punishment for crimes that were not her own. Thus she secretly dreaded the day that they would be married, or rather the night that would follow soon after.

Beyond trusting him with her safety, the Princess didn't trust him enough to bare her heart or soul to him either. They barely knew anything about one another and had not gotten a chance to truly bond in a meaningful way.

Clearing her throat, she ignored the fact that she had just locked eyes with his trouser snake and started to clean his thigh. Once it was clean, she bandaged it like the rest of his wounds and secured it with the sap. Soon she was finished and she stayed where she was, fiddling with what remained of the roll of bandages. "Can you tell me a little of what awaits us when we reach shore? We're very close now and I find myself... apprehensive."

 

[draco519]

Orson tried to consider, very carefully, anything other than the desire to watch those pouty lips of Dremora’s take the head of his cock in. To bring the tip, dripping with pre-cum, painting a glossy trail across her jawline and rosy cheek before pushing her head down on it. He was thinking of anything other than that, he continued to try to convince himself. As her scent wafted into his nose? He felt himself.. Stir. Don’t you fucking dare, cock. I will cut you off.

Can you tell me a little of what awaits us…. “It will be a Hero’s welcome.” Orson smiled, thankful she changed the subject. It was a wistful voice and eyes that were nearly lost. He hadn’t been home in three winters. “It’s quite likely i’ll have much to do; challenges to answer, disputes to settle. With my absence, i’m sure Faagen, the man I left in charge, seeks to become Chieftain. If he still lives and another didn’t kill him in my absence. I could be surprised, however, and Faagen still be alive and quite loyal to me.”

He gave that some thought. “And that’s quite likely to be the case, were I to think that through. The Kota shamans, and our elders, have told of a prophecy. One that sounds fanciful… but.. There is to be a Chieftain to face the darkness; and shepherd in the light during the Kota’s greatest trial.” He watched Dremara work on the cut, wrapping the bandage around his leg, though when she stopped and peeked up at him? He realized he’d stopped speaking.

“I know not what this darkness is, nor what calamity awaits us.” It was true, he hadn’t the faintest. “I do believe..” His hand came down, cupping her cheek to guide her to look up at him. “You, Princess.. You are the light I bring to RimeHaven. To the people of the WhiteCaps. My greatest treasure.”

 

[Poprockz]

Those sharp blue eyes of his looked remarkably soft to her as she found them locked with her own. Was that affection in his gaze, or was it something else entirely? It made her wonder what it was he saw when he looked upon her. He obviously placed great importance on her based on their previous discussions, reinforced by this mention of a prophecy.

If that prophecy was true and she really was the light, then when the Kota people found out about it she imagined there would be a lot of men who wanted to be the shepherd in that scenario. Many men would likely challenge Orsun for the right to be the one to fulfill the prophecy. How many men would die for a prophecy that couldn't be confirmed? How would Orson himself fare? Would one wary day see him cut down after a myriad of challenges? This "hero's welcome" he spoke of was likely going to be a short-lived affair before the battle Orsun would be faced with.

She felt a heat in her cheeks as it sunk in that he had called her his greatest treasure. The princess didn't know what to say for a moment.

"For your sake, I hope I am not the light," she said quietly, her lashes lowering. "I fear that will only bring you unending trials."

 

[draco519]

Orson cocked an eyebrow as Dremara lowered her eyes from him, stating that she hoped she wasn’t the light. How could she say such things? He didn’t understand being afraid; but he understood fear. It wasn’t her duty to be strong for him; it was her duty to be strong for her people. And, in time? She’d see the Kota as her people. His thumb brushed along her face where he cradled it. “I hope it is.”

Guiding her to look up to him once more. “I will face many trials and challenges. And I will welcome them.” His eyes were intense. Cautious, yes… but alight with determination. “Ursui’s mighty roar will split the sky. It will be a day filled with love and laughter when I am victorious.” Too long had his people bowed and scraped; being forced to steal and raid the coastal villages for what is needed to survive. He intended to conquer the Tundra and shout an invitation to the gods of old from the peaks of Mount Darkavven; tallest of the WhiteCaps, and have it echo across the Great Divide.

“I won a great battle today.” He said, his hand leaving her face to touch the back of her hand, a gesture for her to finish with his leg. “A Sea-Wraith of the abyss emerged from the deep to test my mettle.”

His point? “Whatever awaits us in RimeHaven? You are safe, Princess, because you’re mine.”

 

[Poprockz]

He was not short on confidence and bravery, she would give him that. It was the sort of determination that inspired others to follow and to support his vision, of that she was sure. And as she looked into his eyes, she thought to herself that he might actually follow through in his word to keep her safe. So far, he was starting to seem more and more like a man of honor in the true sense of the word, not the flashy sort of honor one claimed when it best suited them. Only time would tell whether he was truly this way, but she found herself optimistic about what she would see of him.

"I'll have to hold you to that then," she said simply, unable to hide the small smile that curled those pink lips of hers.

His bandaging was finished up before she went to wash the small bit of blood and sap off of her own hands. He was bandaged and his hair was in good shape, and best of all: all of them were still alive despite the earlier attack.

This new life on distant shores was sure to be daunting, and no doubt it would seem strange and uncomfortable to her for a time, but she hoped in her heart that she would find happiness there.

 

[draco519]

“One thing you will need to be ready for.” Orson said as he finished fastening his kilt to his waist. “I’ll need to address my people before we retreat into my home.” He looked over to Dremara once more. “It will be a joyous occasion. I’ll need to boast of my battles and triumphs.” Surely Marigill had some sort of ceremony when great victories were won?

“As my Queen to be; you may need to address them as your people, too. It will help them to accept you. To not see you as an outsider.”

RimeHaven

The people were gathered on the docks. Orson stood, fully in his furs now, as the snows fell on the deck of the ship, piling up on the railings. Steam announced his breath, snow sticking to braids in his hair - that still behaved better with the lotion his intended applied to it - and his beard. The brown furs of a grizzly adorned his shoulders for warmth atop his blue cloak. Hide gloves, treated to resist the waves as they splashed here and there. The cold made for choppy waters in places. Waves that signified currents topped in white all around.

“Roric.” Orson stepped down and allowed the man to take the wheel. “Take her in easy.” He smiled, a hand coming to the older man’s shoulder. They were home! Orson stepped past Fionn, giving the boy a nod.

Fionn was smiling ear to ear, finishing with his pack; having gotten all of his things off the ship and was preparing to wear it while he unloaded the cargo.

“You could smile once in a while, brother.” Orson glanced over to Cillian, who was securing a rope to use on the arm they’d rigged up to swing crates of goods off the ship as a boom crane.

Cillian looked up to Orson, smirking a little. But there was respect for the man who had led them to victory. “I’ll be smiling when I'm warm; with a belly full of ale. Maybe win some of Brannock’s gold at cards.”

“You’ll be getting none of my gold!” Brannock guffawed, a throaty sound that carried, seemingly, all the way to the horizon. “That’s reserved strictly for Josie!” His favorite Siren down at the Song. His favorite brothel.

“Let us gamble for some of it!” Orson told Brannock, “Surely Josie has no need to put up with you for the moon you intend to rent her for!”

“I show her this pouch of gold?” Brannock countered with a big grin that threatened to split his face. “She might want to marry me.”

Orson rolled his eyes, and made it to the prow of the ship, patting a few other men on the shoulder on his way as the ship pulled in. Tossing the mooring line, the dock workers threw the loops over the bollards and Orson pulled this one tight, then tied it off to the hook.

He looked up at the sounds of cheering, to the gathered Kota that had received word the King had won; their Chieftain was on their way home! Good tidings all abound! He stood tall on the prow, his thumbs tucked into his belt in a bit of pride before he waved to them with a smile.

He arrived back up near the door to his chambers… and he knocked on the door. They were home. It was time. He offered his hand to Dremara, letting her take it and the cheers died down to awed gasps at the sight of their Golden Queen that their Chieftain had fought for and won.

“It’s time to greet your people, Princess.” Orson smiled, leading her towards the steps that would lead down and to the plank to allow her access to the docks. To dry land.

RimeHaven wasn’t as glorious a Kingdom as Hortensia; it wasn’t the shining golden city. The houses were thatch roofs and wooden, but sturdy construction and careful packing of sawdust and masonry work for fireplaces kept them warm in the worst of storms. There were fields of oat in the distance. Docks were busy with receiving the rest of the fleet, ships beginning to be unloaded.

RimeHaven had a bustling market square; with goods from every corner of the seas. Whether the goods were from Kota raids or legitimate trade? They wound up on the market. Silks no one expected to see, exotic furs and meats. Even some flowers that didn’t mind the cold.

“Fionn!!” The little girl spotted him easy as breathing. She had the same dusty brown mane as the young warrior. And jumped up into his arms.

“You’ve gotten so big!” Fionn embraced his little sister, squeezing the life out of her before he backed away.. “Where’s papa and mama?”

Not far behind, he saw them. A mother’s relief; a father’s pride.. He made his way to them, but the little girl? “It’s her!” She smiled, waving at their Queen to be. “She’s the light!”

“Fiona.” Fawna, Fionn’s mother, gently scolded her daughter. But how could she be too angry when her son had come back alive?

Roric reached up, hugging his daughters. They’d been worried when he followed Orson to war, but… He had to avenge the death of his sons. There would be no honor for his family otherwise.

Brannock was quickly off to meet the expectant gaze of the redheaded Josie, and she smiled at him, grabbing his collar and dragging him back towards the song.

Killian flipped a gold coin, giving a two fingered salute to Orson and then he caught the coin before it hit the crown.

“My own bed.” Orson smiled wistfully.. “Of all the things I look forward to. Have missed the most..” He looked down to Dremara with a smile. “You’ll be given the finest guest chambers; if you don’t wish to stay with me until we wed.”

Orson’s own home was a grand longhouse. A palace of stone towers and wooden hallways. A mixture of the two materials that was the stronghold which people could flee to in times of emergency. If a storm was entirely too much, or invaders found their shores. But he had grand rooms, the largest hearths for cooking and warmth. There was a private garden where the cold blooming flowers grew.

The front doors had a large wooden deck with stones paving the way to the front doors. A place to stomp mud and snow off of boots, and served as an elevated platform where weddings took place; not to mention what he did now. He turned away from Dremara and looked to his gathered people. Releasing her hand, he reached up and unclasped his furs, then his cloak. Handing them to Nettie, he stepped forward, finishing untying the tunic at his neck and removed it to show his bare chest.

“Friends! Families! Kota!” He stomped his foot, his fist beat against his chest hair that began to catch the snow. “It’s been three winters since I left RimeHaven!” He looked among them, they remembered how long he’d been gone. His wounds had been healing nicely, no longer requiring a bandage, but they were still red and pink from their healing state.

“I have stood against all the fury Marigill has had to offer me! On the words of the man that betrayed their greatest secret; I captured their champion! The King’s own son!” As his people began to cheer and chant his name? He nodded his head. “It was with Kota ColdSteel did we carve the sons of the Golden City. Those who have sought to take from us from little we could grow! What came, sniveling, forcing Kota sons to fight in their wars with Emperor Waylund or the Sevananian!”

He looked over the roaring, gathered crowd. “I am Orson, Ursui’s chosen son; Chieftain of Kota!” His nostrils flared, steam on his deep exhale resembling an ancient ice dragon of times long past. “And it was this I told a Muirgheilt! A Sea-Wraith of the Deep! I told that beast to come and face me! In my heart, it saw. On my sword, it felt… I fear not man or beast!” The crowd roared, the air becoming electric.

“And I return home with the light!” He reached his hand out, coming to Dremara’s back to guide her to step forward and join him. “I bring home Marigill’s finest treasure as my own. Dremara, The Golden City’s chosen daughter; to be my bride!”

The people gasped, awed at the sight of Dremara’s golden hair and eyes. It was good an omen as Ursui himself could bless them with! They began to cheer.

Orson brought a hand up to quiet the crowd.. Then he nodded his go ahead to Dremara.

 

[Poprockz]

Princess Dremara could hardly sleep the night before, excited as she was. She kept going over possible speeches in her head, but none of them sounded right to her. Too wooden, too accusatory, too pitiful... It was difficult to find the right words to express what she wanted to express while not making a fool of herself.

Would the Kota people view her as the daughter of an enemy? Would some of them think her a snake? Hopefully not, but she couldn't control the grudges that some of them must have carried. It was understandable; she was starting to get the impression that the other kingdoms (including her own) had mistreated and disrespected their people not infrequently. One way or another, her speech would be fine though. If it was awkward, they could always smooth things over when she was feeling more comfortable.

When the knock on the door came, she was ready. The princess was wearing a dark blue dress with black detailing and leather gloves to match. The gloves had rabbit fur on the inside for extra warmth. Upon her shoulders she wore a black and grey-furred cloak with the same dark blue fabric, the hood coming up to cover her golden hair until a gust of wind knocked it back as though nature itself was offended that she had tried to cover it up. Perhaps the outfit was not the most regal thing she owned, but it was certainly the warmest.

By the Gods she was happy to be on land again! She resisted the urge to kiss the ground, but couldn't resist giving Nettie a very excited smile. Though... It still felt like the ground was moving for some reason. Maybe her legs had become so accustomed to the waves that now the stable ground confused them.

It was heartwarming to see the reunions, each of the men coming home to their family or loved ones. Over the course of their journey, she had become fond of them and she was happy to see them home safe. Fiona was given a warm smile when she spoke, the princess finding her to be adorable.

She too was very much looking forward to sleeping in a real bed, though as offered she intended to sleep in her own guest quarters; they couldn't be sleeping in the same bed before they were wed, after all. Nettie seemed to share that sentiment, looking very excited at the mention of a mattress and a pillow. A hammock wasn't the most comfortable thing to sleep in for several weeks, and her back needed actual support to get back to being less stiff.

Her nervousness mounted the closer they got to his longhouse, knowing that the moment was fast approaching. She tried to calm her nerves, breathing deeply while she witnessed Orson's own speech. The bit about carving the sons of the Golden City was off-putting, but she supposed it was simply a little too close to home for her. The princess didn't let it show on her face though, knowing that to show such sentiments would only alienate her and possibly be a display of disrespect to Orson.

Soon his speech was over and she found herself being coaxed forward, all of their eyes upon her expectantly. She took a steadying breath before taking a step forward. Back straight, eyes forward... Now was the time that she would make her true first impression upon the people of this land.

When she spoke her voice was loud and clear, her golden gaze steady as she scanned the crowd. "I come from distant shores where the people do not know the cold of your lands, save for the cold sting of your brave warrior's swords. Marigill's army is not to be taken lightly, and yet the Kota bested them with their insurmountable might and inability to accept defeat. You are a strong, resourceful people who stand in defiance of anyone who is foolish enough to seek to dominate you. My shores are behind me now, and I look to you, the Kota people to guide me in your ways so that I might raise my glass as one of you!" The princess raised her fist on the side nearest to Orson, standing tall and proud before them. Her tone became fierce and inspiring, all remaining anxiety having left her. Her golden eyes almost seemed to glow with resolve.

"- to celebrate your triumphs and share in your warmth! Show me the pride of the Kota, that your pride might beat in my chest as well!" It was the first time that she had given a speech such as this, but she no longer feared how it would be received. Her heart was pounding and instead she felt... exhilarated, perhaps?

 

[draco519]

The air was charged all around them; and as Dremara’s voice changed during her speech? When it went from nervous and meek to resolute and brave? The eyes of the Kota all around her began to fill with hope for a better tomorrow. With a Chieftain that would become a King. The WhiteCaps no longer a disputed territory but a Kingdom; for all to see.

When Dremara’s fist went up? The Kota absolutely roared, many repeating the gesture, some of the men raising both fists or drawing their swords and raising them into the air.

“I guess there can be no doubt.” Cillian said with a small smirk, glancing over to Dagris. “This one time… you may have been correct.”

“The runes are never wrong.” Dagris said, his tone far more serious than Cillian’s typical sarcastic cynicism. “He is the Chieftain Ursui tells us of. Who will summon Ursui’s mighty roar to split the sky in our darkest hour. Who will shepherd in th-”

“Yes, yes…” Cillian interrupted, having heard it so many times before. But all the same, he clapped with a grin. “..just take a compliment, you’ve been batshit the rest of the time i’ve known you.”

Dagris could only laugh.

Fionn’s eyes were alight with renewed zeal, Fiona and his parents standing next to him. He held his spear high in the air and let loose a warcry. “For Ursui!”

Roric beat his fist against his shield, nodding his approval.

Brannock reached down, picking Josie up and placed her butt on his broad shoulder so she could cheer.

Orson himself was smiling ear to ear. But he’d lost feeling in his arms and torso just a moment ago. He’d stood in defiance of the cold to deliver his speech, but now he was rather craving warmth once more. He looked back down to Dremara, her words having moved him, as well. He reached down with both hands, cupping her face and he leaned down, bringing his kiss to her pouty lips.

The Kota warcries intensified once more. To see such affection between Orson and the woman that would bear the strong sons of the man who had conquered the Golden City? It was cause for celebration!

Orson pulled back to look down with a resolute, excited blue gaze into Dremara’s eyes. He smiled, then nodded to the doors as they opened up for them to go inside and allow the men to have their own reunions.

“We feast tomorrow!” Orson told his people. Today? The spoils had to be unloaded and taken to the storehouses and the gold to the coffers. Mothers had to hug sons, wives to tend or mourn husbands. There was much to do in RimeHaven, suddenly, when yesterday? It was quite likely just more business as usual. But no longer!

Orson was home!

The great hall was two great hearths on either side of the wooden chamber with the intricate rafters, totems of Ursui hung from them, as well as the swords and shields of fallen warriors in remembrance. The tusks of a great beast were over the throne. A mammoth that Orson had challenged to prove his worthiness to Ursui; to become Chieftain. He’d killed a beast no other Kota could best.

“Orson.” Faagen entered the room with a smile. He was a capable warrior himself, but his mind was sharp. With a good head for numbers and matters of state. He’d been reading a missive from the Andel Empire with its signature seal of Silvery wax. “News of the Andel Empire. Emperor Rofim passed; with no heir, the Senate is figuring out how to proceed.”

“I doubt they give a shit what we think those boy-lovers ought to do.” Orson chuckled, his hands coming up to Faagen’s shoulders. “I half expected to come back and find you ready to challenge me.”

“Hardly.” Faagen laughed. “After the celebration and catching you up on the goings on of RimeHaven? I’m ready to go back to my farm in the Tundra. Grow my oats and run my herd along the plain. I”ve had enough politics for a lifetime.”

Orson nodded.

Faagen looked past Orson, seeing Dremara there and he bowed deeply. “Princess Dremara.” He was more stately than some of his brothers; his own mother had been a noblewoman of the Andel and taught him many things.But it didn’t mean he wasn’t Kota; and a rowdy drunken brawl didn’t also suit him. “You honor us with your presence. And your speech will inspire many songs for moons to come.”

 

[Poprockz]

She was elated that her speech had been so well-received, and she couldn’t help but feel an affection for the people in front of her. They had welcomed her with cheers rather than disdain, and it was everything she could have hoped for.

The princess was smiling warmly even as her dainty nose was pink from the cold. Her gaze had just turned to Orson to see his reaction when she found a pair of cold paws on her cheeks. There wasn’t time for anything but surprise before his lips were upon her own.

She didn’t pull away from him, merely accepting the gesture. It was all she could do really. To reject him in front of his people would have been the most egregious of errors. That being said… to her further surprise, she didn’t actually want to pull away. Something about the way his lips caressed hers made her heart flutter. Though she was rigid when he first made contact, her body relaxed and her eyes closed.

Her first kiss was tender and warm in stark contrast to the sharp, cold air.

It took her a moment to come back to reality once the kiss was over, but a whistle from the crowd roused her from her thoughts and she thought to herself that she hoped that her cheeks weren’t as pink as her nose was. Her hands went to her cheeks and she could feel the blush that had set upon them. Some of the women in the crowd giggled at her apparent shyness, and Nettie herself had to stifle a giggle of her own.

She hurried after him into the hall, glad to be someplace with crackling fires and protection from the elements. It wasn’t golden or guilted like her own palace was, though she didn’t find this to detract from its appeal. Many nobles in her kingdom would sneer and call the place “quaint,” but they knew not the circumstances with which the Kota people lived.

It was a relief to find that the man he had left in charge had no intentions of supplanting him. Based on what she knew of his people, the man wouldn’t have hid such intentions if the case was otherwise.

His bow and manners had her impressed, the princess answering in kind with a curtsy and her hand over her heart once more, though she didn’t tip her head. The gesture was second-nature to her at this point. Orson had received a bow of her head when they first met due to his higher status as a show of deep respect, but otherwise this was the gesture she used with everyone else.

“Thank you, Faagen. It is my honor to walk these halls,” she smiled, her eyes drifting around to further survey her new home.

“By the Gods!” She sucked in a breath. “The tusks!” One might have thought that she was simply marveling at the size of such things, but the look of horror that was now etched on her face was from the fact that the tusks were bloody as though they had just gored a score of men. They dripped onto the floor in thick drops of deep red, creating small puddles beneath them.

 

[draco519]

Orson hadn’t been paying the tusks any mind, reading the missive from the Andel Empire himself. He hoped the new Emperor would be more open to things like trade and not coming to take what was not his. Though, with Dremara’s presence bringing the respect of the foreign lands and Kings? It was his belief it would stop. And not have the opposite effect of galvanizing them; with the Kota having taken a woman of such a precious bloodline to-

The tusks!

Faagen rolled his eyes, exasperated.. And he settled his gaze on Orson. “I am also to inform you, Chieftain, before stinging nettle finds its way into my furs, again, that The Lady Y’Sinnia Skorgrim requests an audience.”

Orson had been watching the blood drip from the tusks; that.. That could only mean one thing. He brought his attention to Faagen as he mentioned the woman what demanded his time. “She awaits in the parlor? Send her in.”

“She didn’t care to wait in the Parlor.” Faagen grumbled, reaching up to scratch his neck. Damned nettles! “In fact, when I suggested such a thing, or even offered her guest accommodations? She was less inclined to agree. And I found my entire bed had been flung into the rafters; lodged firmly. Sideways. She has requested me to inform you that she awaits you in your chambers, Chieftain.”

Orson’s eyebrows slowly climbed. His chambers? The blood on the tusks? The bed in the rafters?

Orson heard the crash behind him. An amphora that held fresh water had been flung from a table and clattered upon the ground. He took in a deep, calming breath through his nose.

“And she further insists that she does not appreciate being made to wait.” Faagen added.

Of course she didn’t. Orson had just finished pulling his furs, at least, back over his shoulders and then looked back as the doors opened and servants began carrying in Dremara’s belongings. He moistened his lips with his tongue, the taste of the Princess’s kiss still on them, and he looked to Dremara. “Faagen will see you to our finest guest chambers. It seems Ive an appointment to keep.”

He saw the questions in her eyes. “She means me no harm. She’s simply.. Impatient.” Smiling to reassure her, he nodded to Faagen. “See the Princess to our finest guest chambers.”

“The hearth is ready, Princess.” Faagen bowed, turning to lead Dremara and Nettie and those carrying her luggage.

 

[Poprockz]

Dremara listened in mounting confusion as the two men discussed the recent happenings as though they were normal. Was the blood not an ill omen? Was there imminent threat? It eluded her how they could be so casual, even annoyed at such things.

She jumped when she heard the crash, her wide eyes going to Orson. As much as he insisted that he wasn’t in danger, she had to wonder at the validity of that statement. It sounded like whoever was needing to meet with him was powerful, seeing as they could manipulate objects without being physically present.

While his assurances were met with worried skepticism, she decided that it was best to trust him on this. He was more familiar with this… Y’sennia than she was. Perhaps he had some secret trick, some item that was a bain to such a sorceress.

With a hesitant nod, she followed Faagen toward her chambers. A backwards glance was made to him before she and her entourage disappeared down the hall.

————

When Orson arrived at his chambers…

There, lying sideways on the bed, was a beautiful woman. She had long hair that was as black as a night without stars, skin as pale as a corpse, and eyes that shone a deep red like dark rubies. Her high cheekbones complimented her stark look, as did her blood-red lips. An elegant eyebrow raised as the woman fluidly sat up, her extravagant dress rustling quietly.“Orson…” Her voice was like the velvety darkness that welcomed one into their final slumber.

“I worried that you might have forgotten me, seeing as you were abroad for three winters.” She studied her long black nails (more like talons, really) that looked liable to gut a bear if she was so inclined. “I admit, I was feeling a little wounded…”

 

[draco519]

Orson’s bedchambers are a rectangular alcove, fifteen feet by twelve, carved into the longhouse’s granite core, with a ceiling of exposed wooden beams, their surfaces scorched and etched with Ursui’s constellation—a bear amid stars.

The walls, a mix of polished granite and rough stone, bore deep carvings: Ursui crushing shadow-beasts, Kota warriors wielding spears, and spiraling claw-marks that hum faintly, as if the bear god’s spirit lingers. One of the windows framed by wooden slats and set with clouded glass, pierces the northern wall, offering a view of the RimeHavens’ rolling moors and the distant sea, where storms brew on the horizon. On the window’s stone sill rests a single white blossom, inexplicably fresh, its petals whispering to those who listen closely enough.

The varnished wooden floor is strewn with rush mats and thick bear-fur rugs, dyed in Ursui’s sacred ochre and woven with Kota knotwork, softening the winter’s chill. A hearth built from rounded stones burns with peat and pine, its smoke curling through a clay flue shaped like a bear’s snout, casting a warm, flickering glow across the alcove. The hearth’s mantle of ashwood stained in a dark varnish, bore an ogham prayer to Ursui, its edges smoothed by Orson’s restless tracing, a ritual to steady his heart against Naymeera’s threats.

Orson’s bed itself was a masterwork. With intricate scrollwork on down-stuffed blankets and mattresses. Large enough for a man like him and however many he wished to join him; so long as he didn’t overestimate his stamina. Wooden posts that followed the same theme of the mantle stretched from floor to ceiling; acting as support pillars as well as a place to suspend curtains to combat the worst of the cold when the winters were particularly harsh. Ursui’s words inlaid into them, as well. For protection from evil spirits. For rest and peace of the mind and soul. With a headboard carved right into the granite; containing various things he’d found he liked having nearby over the years. An inlaid mural of himself in a great battle with a guardian beast.

A weapon rack matched the mantle; ashwood with iron joints that contained his woodcutting axe, a wooden shovel with the coldsteel tip. Hunting spears in their quiver, a bow and a quiver of arrows. His rune-etched longsword? He drew it as he stepped into his bedchamber, the warmth of the hearth in the middle area that divided his private dining parlor from his bedchambers. He most certainly wasn’t alone here. Placing the sword into the weapon rack, he hung his shield on the side of it and kicked out of his boots. How good it was to be home.

Off of his private dining parlor and bedchamber? A heavy door separated his washchamber. Inside; there was a wooden gate hooked up to a lever that filled a natural stone tub with waters from a hot spring. Another lever would drain it. Beneath the tub was a hearth where a small fire could be lit to warm the stone to the touch.

It was a reaction without surprise; when he heard the rustling silks on his fur-laden bed. His eyes pulled their longing gaze away from his bath to settle on the reason all the curtains and shutters in his bedchambers had been pulled shut. Y’sennia. His most unlikely ally; and for so long? The Kota’s only ally.

Orson.. “Sennia.” He greeted her in kind. He reached down, pulling the knots around the hem of his boots to free them so he could kick out of them. Then he studied the vampress that had seen fit to make herself comfortable, the firelight dancing across gossamer skin to give it the appearance of life. Same is it gave an orange hue to his own not-quite-as-pale complexion. The caverns of muscle exaggerated by dancing shadows from the hearth on his left flank. One eye hidden in the darkness cast from the bridge of his nose.

“I worried that you might have forgotten me, seeing as you were abroad for three winters.”

Orson reached up, doing away with his furs and tossed them over the chaise near the hearth. Braids of hair fell down the sides of his head whilst others remained free.

“I admit, I was feeling a little wounded…”

“Is that why you saw fit to drench my sacred tusks in blood?” He stepped closer to the bed. And Ursui help him; did it look inviting as she did. “It’s dripping on the floors of my great hall. And my Steward tells me about itching nettle in his furs? His bed lodged into rafters?”

He reached down, collecting her chin into his hand and guided her up to her knees, gently dragging her to be nearer his eye level. “As if I could ever forget you.” His head tilted a bit, his blue eyes resolute. “I’m inclined to believe you need reminding of the rules.” There was a bit of playfulness behind the serious nature of his speech. Relieved, genuinely, to see her still alive and well.. And that she hadn't forgotten her end of such a bargain struck that saved both of their homes.

 

[Poprockz]

Her eyebrows went down into a soft scowl and she replied, "it has been three long winters, Orson. Three. I was content to wait for you for a time, but eventually I grew impatient. I was hoping to motivate Faagen into contacting you and urging you to wrap up your business, but the man is a stubborn one. Almost as stubborn as you."

She traced the side of his face delicately with one of her fingers, being very careful not to nick his skin. "Three winters is long enough for the details of anything to be buried. Three winters is long enough for a touch to be forgotten. Three winters... is damn long enough." At that point her gaze had shifted from one of reproachfulness to one of hunger, the woman wetting her lips before attempting to lean forward towards him.

 

[draco519]

Orson knew exactly how long it had been. She knew, as well. He’d told her, before he left, that he would return. She knew the trespasses of the Golden City’s nobility and what had to be repaid in blood. The opportunity they’d stumbled upon with the Duchess’s confession of who Ser Avery was. They had no choice; he had an opportunity to seize a claim on his lands Kings of men across the all of the world would recognize. Nothing had been more important.

He decided, in that instant, that she hadn’t forgotten the rules. She was in need of a reunion; not a reminder. He released her face as he saw her tongue travelling over her ruby red lips that matched her eyes. His hand trailing over her skin as she closed the distance between them and brought her kiss to him. A warrior King and a Vampire enchantress; the most unlikely coupling. There had been nights when he wasn’t sure she’d bleed him entirely; nor would he stake her. It was dangerous, and sensual, and most importantly? Mutually beneficial.

His calloused hand that had spent the past three years hardening to grip a sword or a shield. Or strike a man across the jaw, or pull rope and tie knots? That hand turned softer as she came to him. His fingertips over her neck and shoulder, immediately going to the laces on the back of her dress. His free hand dove to her hip, climbed her back and applied enough pressure to feel her body crush to his.. Then threaded fingers into hair so dark, that sheened firelight across its surface as though it were fresh ink.

His breath caught when they first kissed, his heart immediately thundered in his ears. He wasn’t sure what fragrances she wore; but she always smelled.. So good. It permeated his nose, rode his breath into his lungs, and incensed his mind. The nails that could carve into his flesh; and did not with her control. Her warmth was welcome and familiar. The feel of lace and silk beneath his fingers as he got her dress unlaced; fingers caressing on a body that was soft in all the places it should be.

Eventually, he needed a breath and his normally pale blue eyes were darkened with want. With sheer desire. His kilt shifted with her pressed against it, the twitch of a man’s needs rousing between his legs.

“Three winters.” He finally had enough sense to speak. “Is not enough to have forgotten me.” He left her no room to argue, his next kiss more demanding. His hands starting to explore, to get the pesky dress that was in his way off of her.

 

[Poprockz]

A soft growl was heard before their lips reunited, the woman kissing him back with ferocity. For the past three winters she had pined for him, worried about his safety, and kept an eye on his people. Though she was typically not one to intervene in the lives of mortals unless it benefited or interested her, she knew he would not be happy if he came back to find his home being threatened outright. Unbeknownst to the people, the dark enchantress had made sure that several of them hadn't been victim to darker forces than her own. There was something she needed to talk to him about once they were done, but right now she needed his heat and his need.

Of course she hadn't forgotten what hung between those two tree trunks he called legs. That was part of her problem. Too many nights she had spent riding a thrall, using her fingers, or being fucked by the shadow, only to end up unsatisfied. Nothing could compare to what he could offer her, and thus it had been a torturous wait.

She was done waiting. With a twitch and gesture of one of her nails, shadows crept up from under the bed to her back, all of the ties were undone simultaneously, the corset underneath following with another silent command. Having completed their task, the shadows retreated once more, leaving their mistress to roughly tug and wrench the fabric off of herself. Her dress was now pooled at her hips, her torso bared to him.

Y'sennia's breasts were large and full, just as they were when he left. She wrenched her mouth back and accidentally cut his lip in her haste. The vampress let out a little chuckle and licked the cut which then sealed immediately. Her eyes went down to his chest and she raised an eyebrow. "Who had the gall to try knifing you on your ship? These look fresh."

She leaned down and ran her tongue over the cut on his arm, the long, dextrous thing sliding back and forth upon it like a snake.

 

[draco519]

Try as he might, Orson would never get used to Y’sennia’s shadow crawling out and doing her bidding. There were times he forgot about it, then it would lurk out from behind her, pour her a glass of wine, and vanish again like it was nothing. She manipulated it as easily as breathing. He didn’t complain as the shadow took the dress with it, and her body was free to receive his touch once more. Warm, soft flesh for him to- He gasped as her fang nicked his lip; then her tongue healed the cut.

It was always a strange feeling; Y’sennia’s brand of healing. The tongue of an enchantress, with a taste that men would kill and die for, sliding over the skin and leaving a trail of flames in its’ wake. It was a slow sensation; the trail of saliva left behind to sprout goosebumps against the chill of the room. Then she spotted the wounds that he’d been nursing since his battle on the sea. These look fresh..

“Naymeera saw fit to place a Muirgheilt in my path during my voyage home.” He didn’t need to explain the severe ramifications of a Sea-Wraith of a the deeps to Y’Sennia. It meant what they both knew, if he could measure by her gaze; Naymeera, the mother of beasts, was growing stronger. Over his years as Chieftain, she continued to wage her war on the Kota. On the WhiteCaps. On the Tundra. An angry goddess of old, like a jilted lover, whose limitless fury would see the end of all life - and unlife - that didn’t bow and scrape before her. Appease her. Worship her.

But, as Y’Sennia’s tongue slid over his arm so? He found himself realizing that Naymeera wasn’t the woman that he should focus on worshipping or appeasing. There was hunger in her movements. Something deep and ravenous. Fierce and determined. He brought his hand to the back of her head, guiding her lips over his chest before he pushed her towards the wound on his side to show her that one. He couldn’t imagine she wished to hear the tale of besting the beast at this moment. With her nakedness so bared before him. His hand moved down through her hair, his free hand along her chin and calloused fingers dragged rough skin over her clavicle. His breath catching, expanding his barreled chest.

A deep groan as her tongue found the wound on his side, a bite of his lip now that it was healed. His eyes lulling closed. More stirrings beneath the kilt the shadow, for some reason, ignored. His third and final wound hidden there on his thigh. His hand sliding down her clavicle to trail his fingers along the side of her full breast before his paw closed of it to knead the flesh.

 

[Poprockz]

Once the wound on his side was closing itself and fading into his skin, she got off of the bed and onto her feet. She circled around him like a snake slowly winding around a rabbit. He was no rabbit though- he would not move for her unless he willed it to be so. This she knew. With a hand on his chest she gently pushed him down towards the bed, wordlessly bidding him to sit on the bed so that he might be in a better position for her to... get a taste.

The time on her feet was short-lived, as she soon sank down to her knees. The shadow knew what he was hiding, had whispered it in the back of her mind. Her hands went to his belt and she deftly undid it, undoing his kilt and exposing herself to her ruby eyes.

When she did so, his mighty cock became free and she couldn't help but bite her lip at the sight of it. Her mouth watered and it took some self-restraint not to immediately start in on it. Oh the things the two of them had done together, the way she had screamed and wailed. There were scratches on the headboard here and there, left from nights when the two of them felt particularly passionate.

Just a little longer...

Her head dipped down and she kissed his knee sensually, slowly working her way up closer and closer to his inner thighs while alternating which of his legs her lips would grace. She moaned softly as her tongue lighted on his flesh once more, dragging it up until she reached the gash that still looked partially enflamed. While her saliva did heal cuts and wounds, it didn't negate the fact that they had happened. There was always a lightly-colored scar where they had sat, and she was glad for it. To rob the man of the reminders of his victories would be exceedingly cruel.

"Did you stroke your cock to my visage when you were away?" she asked, looking up with a smirk at the man now towering over her.

 

[draco519]

Orson cocked an eyebrow as Senni stood up and wove around him, causing him to turn and face her - bed against his knees. Then her hand had gone to his chest, guiding him to sit upon the bed. Then her hands were moving to the belt that was sewn into his kilt to open it, to free him. His hands moved over her sides as she did. Revelling in the long black hair that his fingers threaded through. Eventually, he leaned back as she finished with the buckle.

The wet head of his cock popped free; a droplet of pre-cum falling to the underside and moving along a thick vein on its way to soak into the soft tuft of hair near the base. He took a deep breath through his nose, a low growl, something akin to a bear as she teased her way along his knee, then he felt the same tingle. Her tongue closing the wound on his thigh that nearly got Dremara asked to suck his cock when she’d bandaged it. He’d wanted her to; she’d pulled back before she could.

Did you stroke your cock…

“I scratched an itch.” He admitted, his hand sliding to reach up and rubbed the back of his neck. Then it moved down over his chest, sliding over the pectoral and fingers traced his abs. “Especially after victories.” His eyes lit up, the memories of combat, of blood and fire and knowing he’d bested a man who did not wish to die. His hand gripped his hardening cock, slickened by what dripped down it so recently.

He squeezed at the mighty trunk, and stroked ever upward in the motion, releasing pressure near the tip to milk more of the precum out to gather at the tip. Down again with light pressure, and another squeeze. “I remembered the feel of your lips; of your tongue. Even the ass you claim only I've conquered.”

He grinned, releasing his cock, a bit of precum on his thumb and he brought it up to Senni’s lower lip to wipe it clean. “But I haven’t voyaged all this way home, nor have you waited all this time, only for us to continue pleasuring ourselves.”

 

[Poprockz]

Instead of merely allowing him to wipe his thumb off, she parted her lips to suck off the very tip, her tongue flicking against it before she released him.

"No... Tonight my thirst will be slaked by the cock of a warrior king," she replied, her voice thick with lust. Reaching out, she wrapped her hand around the base of him, her claws having retracted and reformed to become harmless and blunt. With this hand she held him steady, his cock hard and firm in her grasp. She opened her mouth and ran her tongue along the side of his shaft, a moan working its way out from her chest. She could feel the blood rushing through the veins her tongue traced, pulsing within him in his aroused state. Oh how wet it made her... How she wanted him to grab her by the hair, force her down onto the bed, and fuck her until she was horse from screaming his name.

Her tongue slipped up and down his length, slathering him with her wound-healing saliva. Though there were no wounds to heal there, only a delectable feast she needed to taste every inch of.

The vampress's red eyes looked up at him, enraptured, and she didn't break eye-contact as she put her lips on his head and let it delve inside where a warm welcome awaited it. She started to move her head in a slow bobbing motion, her tongue winding back and forth underneath him as she went. His precum mingled with the taste of his skin and it drove her absolutely mad with desire. This was the taste she so fondly remembered! She had missed the feeling of his thickness making her jaw ache.

Another sound of enthusiasm and she released his cock, only to let her tongue elongate and curl around him like a stripe on a candy-cane. Her tongue squeezed and massaged him, trying to wring him for all he was worth. Hopefully he had saved up, because she wanted to be soaked in his cum by the time they were finished.

 

[draco519]

Orson’s deep, guttural moan was a sound Ursui himself would have made when mating. A deep, primal growl to follow. The fierce blue eyes of a warrior King who had stood before beast and man and vampire. He’d never known what it was to lay with a vampress like her, but once she found she couldn’t enthrall him? He’d simply taken her. Time and again over the years.. Until the threats came that forced them into an alliance. And her price had been rather clear. One he’d been force to pay ever so happily.

His pre-cum cajoled out of her, he could feel the droplets that escaped onto her tongue and eventually made its way down her throat. The veins on his cock mirrored the ones on his arms when they flexed, tensing, as he gripped the down comforter next to him. “Senna.. Fuck.” His eyes opened to see her with her tongue swirling around his cock, and he brought his hand to the back of her head. Without warning, he pushed her down upon it. The soft hairs at the base of the V-cut on the sides of his abs in her nose.

He lifted his hips up, as though somehow he could grow more cock for her throat. He felt her tongue continue, saliva dripping on his balls and he groaned. “Sinni..” He let her off of his cock and stood. A handful of her hair and he spun her around to look up at him. Gathering her wrists, he pinned them against the mattress as he brought his cock forward, dragging the wet tip along her jawline and to her lower lip, painting a spittle and precum with the brush Ursui had blessed him with from her ear to her lips.

Once she’d captured the tip again, he drove his hips forward. “Yes..” She’d caught on, and his hands brought her wrists together behind her head so he could hold them in one of his large hands. His free hand went to the back of her head. Cradling it, he began fucking deeper into her throat. Moons, on the ship with Dremara, he’d certainly been saving up. She would not be disappointed. Not since he first learned to pull his own pecker had he gone so long without having done so.

But in the same chambers with the Princess? He couldn’t. The throat fucking was good, but she was forgetting something. He was forgetting something… And he pulled his cock slowly away from her, watching her eyes as he reached for his cock and pulled it upward to reveal his heavy, cum-filled balls to her. “How dare you ignore them. They’ve missed you, you know.” He said, releasing her hands to use that hand to guide, by the back of her head, to his sack.

 

[Poprockz]

Oh fuck… her eyes rolled back as he forced himself deep into her throat that first time. There was only one man who could take control of her so completely, who could roughly use her as he wished. She remembered that first night…

The two of them had fought tooth and nail, blow for blow, and had ended up with her hardened claws against his sword, the man pinning her against a wall with his blade at her throat.

Her eyes had thrummed with an enticing aura, and she had asked in a honeyed voice for him to just lay down his weapon and join her as her beloved thrall, to be lavished with her affection and adoration… if only he would forsake the villagers who didn’t deserve the blood he shed for them. She had assumed that it would work, that he would let her up and discard his weapon.

However, he did not. Instead he had looked at her with his unwavering blue eyes and refused. He had told her that he was Chieftan of the Kota people, and that he would submit to no one. Her eyes had widened with surprise, and at that moment she had felt something an excitement that she hadn't felt for centuries.

Their gaze had held, the atmosphere between them had changed, and before she knew it, he was fucking her like a mad horse, her legs bucking in the air as she was supported by one of his arms. He had pinned her wrists to the wall much like he was doing now...

Wait, why was he withdrawing his cock? Her head tried to lift and follow it, but it was soon out of reach. When his balls were offered for her tasting pleasure however, she was relieved.

"I've missed them too..." she replied breathlessly.

Even before his balls were fully lowered, her tongue extended to greet them, letting them rest upon it. They were quite full, weren't they? He must have been saving it all for her, how considerate. In a way it felt like proof to her that he burned for her as she did for him.

"Mm..." she hummed as they dipped lower, her wet tongue lazily sliding around them. One side of his sack was pulled into her mouth for her to suck on before she released it. One of her favorite things to do with a man's balls was to let them sit on her tongue and juggle them, letting them be jostled and shifted like buoys on the ocean. And Orson's? His balls were almost too big for her to do this effectively, but she managed, only occasionally having his sack slip off her tongue before she retrieved them.