(120-10-06) We Are Wildlings
Details for We Are Wildlings
Summary: To escape a bit of their horrific predicament, Ormund and Eiris do a bit of Role-Play. ((Hot & Steamy Alert))
Date: Turn of Vakarnis (10-06-120)
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The longer he takes, the more color rises to her cheeks, ears, and neck, but there is a resignation to the task, her foot starting to intense a little with time. When he is finally done, she looks to her foot and then to him. "Thank you." She finally says. For it has happened and she cannot change that. Swallowing, she lifts a hand to tuck her long hair back behind her ear. "I need to gather firewood and your leg. We need to dress it again. Please…I beg you to rest. We are nearly at a point to take you home..to see to everything properly."

Ormund lifts up a finger with that gesture comes all the presence of the Lord of Oldtown. "If you even dare to undo all of my hard work. There will be consequences." He leans over to kiss the top of her head. He does so really without thought as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "It's just a tiny bit of blood. It will be fine. We will be fine and we will make it home. My men's lives were taken and we have the bounty of spare supplies now and we have been good to not squander them. But this also means that you will rest and take care of yourself as well. The stirrup will be agony if you don't."

The finger swishes back out of its dictatorship position and he moves to limp to go grab up some of the lighter pieces of firewood to bring them in. It's several trips because he's taking care not to overstrain himself, but soon enough he's transferred a great deal of the wood inside. It's not pretty, but it's convenient for their conditions. True to his word after he is done bringing in the firewood he brings them both cups of his mugwort tea.

Eiris looks at him, opened mouthed, uncertain after he kisses her and he instructs her to basically remain. "My lord," she begins, though by now he will realize she is about to protest for once, she closes her lips and she watches him. The concern is there and once she is sure he doesn't look about to pass out, she carefully houses her feet in the wool socks. Her blackened foot is handled with care and she glances in the direction she had laid is men in and only when he returns does she stir. She reaches up and takes the mug, giving a nod of her head. Her color has now become normal, no longer red and suffused with color. She sips at it, making a face for its bitterness but knows it will help them both in the long run.

"I thought, since you seem well enough, we would go to see your men. I have them laid out with saddle blankets and …did what I could to fend off the wildlife. The ground was too hard for me.." she begins and then lowers her gaze to the mug. "I am sorry, my lord. For their losses, for everything. I was headstrong and too sure I was not paying attention to our surroundings."

Ormund swallows hard on his tea. "I saw what you've done for them. Thank you. We will soon enough be able to take them home and be put into the care of the Silent Sisters. They will have proper funerals, all." He bows his head and closes his eyes in a quiet state of grief. "I am just as responsible. It was my plan, not yours to use the cliffs. Turned out to be the perfect trap indeed. For all of us. Please don't shoulder my responsibility. It's a weight I will not have on you." Again he's got tones of that 'no being hard on yourself' way he has had since she's started debasing herself.

"Here…" He gingerly reaches to lift up her foot, one of his legs goes over top her ankle, putting the rest of her foot between his thighs. It is admittedly much warmer and cozier there than simply rested out by the fire. After that, since he's bent over he starts to roll up the one leg of his britches and does his best to take care of his bandage. As he promised it's not that bad, just a bit of the scab broke loose in the movement and started to bleed. But it's already clotted and doesn't look pink anymore.

Eiris is quiet, her eyes softening for the lord as she watches him deal with their losses. Her eyes lowering to her tea as she sips it. It is the touch, the motions and final placement of her foot that has the Flowers going pink again, noting where it rests. His injury is a good distraction, brows furrowing for a moment, "You will be whole again soon, my lord." She remarks, a soft smile curling her lips, "I am glad."

But that foot between his thighs wiggles and then goes still. She closes her eyes and then says, "I need my boots back, I have to go tend the horses before dark. If you could tend the fire..start the pork to cooking I will see if I can find some wild mustard root and return," she says, her foot starting to pull free as her mug, nearly gone is set aside. She is blushing still as she rises, or tries to if he allows her to pull on her boots. - out the tent, she will go if she is not stopped.

She is not stopped, but she is joined, their injuries ironically pair nicely. Holding on to each other he supports her frostbitten foot and she supports his injured leg and allows his bad arm to remain slung. "Hello, my darling." He croons affectionately at Dawn. He breaks away so that he can nuzzle her pretty pale face and she lovingly nuzzles him back. 'I know. I am sorry that I worried you so." He kisses her forehead between her big blue eyes. "I missed you too. Now, how is my girl feeling, hmm?" He uses his good hand to slide over her, limping a little as he moves around the mare.

There is a frown for a scratch she received to a back haunch when she escaped the avalanche. "My poor Dawn. Don't you worry, it will heal and disappear." He speaks to her like she was a noblewoman herself, lamenting to him a bad scar that she's worried will lessen her beauty and make her less pleasing to the eye. A bit like he does with Eiris when chiding her self-deprecation. After the check-up and a sugar cube snuck to her kissy wiggly lips. Yes, he's been sneaking sugar cubes into his tea all day. Since he's had some wherewithal. Petyr and Eiris have then looked after. "Good boy. Clever lad. You take good care of Eiris, hmm? No more sending her to rumps, alright?" The gelding is given a pat and then he hobbles over to help check up on the other surviving horses and the camp/pack horse.

"Do you think we should bring them in? There's room for them inside. I don't like them being out in this weather for so long." He was alright with them being out a night or two, but it's drawing on towards a week now. They will, in fact, take up most of the entryway, but they will fit and be warmer.

Eiris watches the interaction, her own hand scratching and tending Petyr. There is a softening of her smile and she glances from her gelding to him when he comes near. The woman remains with her own horse so that when he speaks of bringing them in she must move over to join him. "Petyr is used to the cold, my Lord. There is no need for him too." She glances to Dawn however and she draws a breath. "You are sweet on her. She must mean a great deal to you. If you wish we can ring them closer and bring a few in. Like your Dawn."

Pushing her hair from her face she moves to the first horse and grasping the mane, for their bridles have been removed and set aside. She begins to lead them closer to the tents, clicking her tongue and urging them slowly. She begins to sing as she works to bring his wishes into being. She looks back to offer him a smile though for a moment it's a shy one that quickly disappears when she turns her head back forward.

"Petyr is a hero, he might be used to it, but he doesn't need to be out in it. You want to come closer and be nice and warm so your Eiris doesn't have to limp all over the place, don't you Petyr?" Around the other side of Peter's neck, he gives a skitch and rubs that make the horse nod his head. "You see? It's settled." He then takes Petyr by the mane and leads him, Dawn follows with a command like the well-trained horse that she is.

Giving Ormund a look as he speaks to Petyr, the Flowers gives a nod of her head. How strange to be housed with the horses but she does not argue. She leads the first horse within and stations him at the back corner and then moves out to get the next as she passes him, Eiris looks up at him, hesitating but then quickly hurrying forward. She doesn't hesitate in her task and will bring the last two soon after. Once all the horses (that were found) are secure inside, she will close the tent flaps and feed the fire.

Her rich red hair looks even more so by the flickering firelight and she hums again, stepping out only briefly to set snow into the metal pot that she then places at the side of the fire.

It's mostly the mugwort tea talking when he says, "You really are beautiful." Out loud, no filter as he comes in and finds her by the fire. He has to shake his head in order to remove her spell. "Alright, horses are in and close and safe, the big pile of firewood, The ice chest is right there filled with enough food to keep us fat until help arrives or until we head out the day afternoon. Until then, it's your turn to sit by the fire, rest and heal." One eyebrow arches at her and though he spoke very gently, that eyebrow warns that sterner stuff is in store for her if she protests.

Eiris blinks, looking up at him for his compliment. Her cheeks color as does her neck and she looks quickly aside. "I like to keep active. When I am idle …the time goes far too slow. We can work together if you would be amiable?" Because she knows he is threatening her in some unspoken way to sit and relax. She does not comment on his proclamation of her really being beautiful, her hazel eyes having gone brown in the firelight. She turns aside and moves towards the chest to be able to ascertain what they should eat for the night - because she is not going to sit idle.

"At-tat-tat, what did I just say!? Sit down." He points to her and then to the seat she was in earlier and he moves as hopping fast as he can to get between her and the ice chest. "Sit. We will find something for you to do."

His movements cause her to come up short and quickly so, leaving her scant inches from him, her hand having brush his hip. That same hand now hovers just before her chest, her eyes wide as she looks up at him. There is a faint pull of a smile on her lips, perhaps in humor but then she nods, "Very well.." she says. She takes a step back and then another before she turns, moving to take a seat on the cot and slip her feet out of her boots so she can warm them near the fire.

Ormund looks rather out of place as he sorts through the ice box and pantry chest for ingredients to make their dinner. If she even looks like she's thinking of getting up to help, that finger is up and pointing her back down. Some sprigs of rosemary, the box of salt and pepper and some greens and wild onions are pulled out of the boxes.

There is a sense of unsureness about the way he goes about things, but he is dedicated and he butterflies out the loin, messily stuffs it with the greens and onions, wraps the outside up, knotting the rosemary to the outside and liberally using the salt and pepper to cover the thing. When he places the dinner in the pan he adds baby potatoes too, tho he doesn't be or do anything to really prepare them, just throws them in the same pan that sizzles with his "Most favorite thing in the world! Boar fat!" He announces like a herald when he added it to the pan to melt.

He might not often be his own cook, but at least he understands what he likes and how it looks when it arrives on his plate enough to somewhat replicate it.

Remaining upon the edge of the cot, Eiris has things to say but keeps her mouth closed when he tends to the meal. She stares for a moment, as she watches the ritual of making it and what he uses to season the meat in the pan. Her only movement is the toes not far from the fire or far from him as the fire warms her through the woolen socks. Her eyes move from watching him with a faint smile starting to curl her lips to that of a distant stare into the fire. Without stopping herself she speaks. "I hope the mother is doing well."

It's just an off comment before she quickly glances towards him and the food he makes. "I wonder, how did you learn to do /any/ of that, my lord." But did he peel the onions? Did she notice that or not? She cannot recall but instead watches as the food cooks itself. "You are different than any other lord I have ever met," she admits plainly, her eyes lifting to him then. "I do not know many that speak to their horses so, or cook food…or rub feet of those.." she holds her tongue then. For he had told her not to talk down about herself. "You are just..different." Or maybe its just their situation, maybe its just the place and time.

The pork is a bit on the dark side when he flips it over and no, the onions weren't peeled, but they were little ones with very thin skin that won't be horrid to eat once they've absorbed the meat and greens juices. "I'm not so different." He points to the nearly burnt side of the pork. "I can't cook. My horse… she was Juleen's. I miss speaking to my wife, so I talk to her like I did Juleen. That makes me crazy not different."

He smirks as he peeks back at her and pokes the pork and stirs the potatoes. After making sure things were shaken up the wiggling of her toes drew his attention and he carefully massages her foot while the food cooks. "Taking care of my injured nurse after she's brought me back from death is the least I can to." He grimaces when he thinks he's hurt her and angles his hand differently. "I bet you she's in finer health than we are right now." A strained chuckle comes from him and he pours them more mugwort. This time he doses both of the cups with sugar from his secret stash in his pouch.

The touch is again noted and this time she seems a bit more at ease with it - perhaps enjoying it. So that when the tea is given she grasps the mug and brings it to her lips carefully slip. "I..know very little in the way of medicine. I was only glad I could do something for you," she admits. "I thought …I thought I might lose you back there..and even the nights to follow. Some of the things you said." She pauses, "You were so very feverish," she states, worries lining her brow before she blows across the surface of her drink before taking another sip.

Her feet find their place near the fire once more and she looks at the cooking food, a curious glance paid to him and then back once more. "It may be getting dry, it should be cooked," she points out but doesn't move to get it. "Careful the pan is likely hot!" She points out with a rush of breath, looking ready to jump up.

Ormund is clear enough in the mind despite the mugwort that he only uses the long iron fork he's been using to roll the tenderloin to stab and scoop it out onto a platter. The platter is passed over to her. "What do you think? Ready?" He pulls out his knife and also passes it to her so she can slice and check on its doneness while he goes about chasing the potatoes in a pan. Eventually, scooping is abandoned and he just starts to spear the crispy golden taters and puts them on another platter. " Notable and no plates, just them sitting very close to each other with platters on their laps using the knife and long fork shared as utensils make him feel, "Quite like wildlings tonight hmm?" He grins and does a little shimmy to bring some comedy to all the thoughts of wellness of mother's and deaths of his close friends and wife. Excited to their bit of savage roleplay.

She smiles, looking to the bit of cooked food he makes her check, "Done," she confirms as steam rises from the flesh torn by a blade. She has to take care of the potatoes that begin to roll around her plate causing her to make a sound. She settles them and then puts them to her lap before and begins to pluck bits of it off with her fingers so when he says Wildlings she can not help but flush with color, "I suppose you are right but then we are rather far South for such things," she says. "So wildlings then..why are we here. In a rich pavilion with horses? Do we have a story to this? Perhaps we managed to steal from a nobleman, take his horses and we set up camp, our own little home." We is said as she lifts her gaze to look about the pavilion. "It's beautiful…"

The noble mmmms and squints as he looks around them, "Yes, in the battle a horse stepped on your foot, the cheeky demon and I took an arrow and a stabbing of a sword. But we got away with their horses and rode for days, leaving them bound to a tree on a road, naked. Clothes were stolen. I was trying to impress you with the whole thing. So I am very pleased that you like it." He bites into the pork and gets the burnt part and the tough skin of the onion and he makes a face. "Wildling indeed. Course they probably cook better than I."

"How heroic and rather brash of us. Its a wonder this colorful pavilion has not caught the eye of others..seeing as its so brilliantly hued," Eiris points out, her own mouthful a little something to get around. "A valiant effort but it takes away some from my high opinion of you that was made during the bold taking of the noble items." She points out, smiling a bit more as she takes another bite and does not complain, rather eats before she murmurs, "It may be best to let me show you how to cook next time," she remarks.

Ormund chews, and chews, and chews. A silent chuckle at the playfulness that comes from her while in the guise of being wildlings together. "Deal, so long as you point and instruct from sitting at the fire." He gives her another stern look that warns her away from disobeying him again. But it fades because he remembers he's a wildling right now. "We might be caught indeed. So we need to make the most of it. Of the time we have together, away from nobles and guards and even the wildling village." He says these things as he looks at her rather fondly, studying her face, admiring her even while she's chewing his horrible dinner. "So much for being a tenderloin hmm?"

"Wilding women are strong, they do not take orders. I can cook and not worry about any injuries, yours are far worse," she points out to him. Eiris, however, notes his look at her and her gaze lingers on his before turning to look at her plate, cheeks coloring as she draws a steadying breath, "Taking advantage of the moments to teach you how to properly cook a meal so you do not ever end up poisoning yourself," she says. Another bite is taken because she will not let things go to waste, ever. "It has taste, there is that," but the meat is dry, tough and the onions are a bit crunchy but otherwise it's not overly bad. She glances aside at him once more, those hazel eyes brown in the firelight as she studies his face, offering a faint smile. "We should go through the noble items we procured. See what we can find of interest…and you should teach me the blade and I will teach you the use of a bow."

He puffs up in character, "But I am a willing man, a little stab and arrow can't stop me from enjoying the spoils of my dastardly deed. Do wildlings say dastard?" He asks the last quite out of character. The end of his meat is looked at apprehensively. "That'll be good for bait…" There is a brook near-by. The leathery small tip of the meat is slid over out of the way on his plate so he can enjoy the potatoes. "What sort of things?" Again somewhat out of character he finally is getting around to asking her about his fever.

Eiris actually laughs, a smirk playing at her lips between bites. She lifts her hand to brush at her lips and then coughs a little around her food. She continues to eat the rest of her meat valiantly. She stabs at the last piece, placing it past her lips, chew she does and thus when he asks his question she is caught up chewing her food. She gives him a look and finally as she swallows she remains quiet. "I..many things. You told me I was sweet, you always smiled. I think you were delirious with fever. But it always gave me hope when you would quiet down when I was near. I am not sure why you did." Pause. "The food was good," she quickly adds and then eats her few potatoes to give her reason to keep from talking further.

"Well, I think we both know that while the fever might have loosened my tongue, I can't say that I was delirious. For so far, all the things I said were true. You have my hope and brought me peace with your care, your song, your touch. Be careful there…" He reaches out a finger to boop her nose, "It's sounding like you're about to be hard on yourself…followed by a bald-faced lie." Even as he tsks at her he's smiling. "Do I have to put you over my knee?" There is a thoughtful look down, "Hmm, usually I spank with my left hand…" Cause he's not out to 'hurt' anyone needing a spanking. "So behave, hmm? Repeat after me. I am kind, I am talented, I am smart, resourceful, a beautiful. The blood in my veins has no bearing whatsoever on my behavior or morals. I am a good person and I deserve to be treated thusly. Especially by myself."

Her eyes cross at the boop to her nose and Eiris looks up at him, staring for the moment. She doesn't repeat the words but her lips part to say something only to remain quiet. "You are too kind my lord….far too kind. I do not …you…you are so very different from the other lords I have met, admittedly I have only met a few," she begins, swallowing as she gazes down at the few potatoes that are congealing with pork fat. She moves them around her plate, shuffling them with her fork as she then adds. "Most lords would have taken advantage of the situation…would have pressed themselves. Would have ordered me or sent me to get help because they would not wish to stay out here. They most certainly have not cooked for me or rubbed my foot and done so again." She blushing now, furiously so.

"I think only Viserys can understand what it's like to rule the sort of place we do. Filled with so many different cultures and religions and stations in life. I try my best to rule as he does, with an open mind, heart, and to be generous as I can be. Without of course allowing myself to be used and taken advantage of." That's one thing that he tries not to immolate is the ability to be manipulated like Viserys seems to be at times, at least from Ormund's point of view and inside knowledge as cousin to the Queen. "There's also The Code. I know some knights don't uphold it very well, but I task myself as much as I can to hold to it. Though no matter how I might feel… how very much I have grown to care for someone, I respect her, and the code. So I will never press." He does look at her in a way that's pretty clear that the 'her' he was just talking about is most certainly her. Combined with the way he's chewing at the back of his bottom lip is also a good indication that he is wishing he was a lesser man that would be pressing his lips to hers right now. He clearly doesn't remember the fact that he tried to already in his fever.

She will never let him know that either, the kissing part. Though his words have struck a cord - as they should and Eiris swallows heavily, her chest quickly rising and falling as she sets her plate aside unable to finish her food. "I need…I need to go get some more wood," she says and is forgetting his wish for her not to work. She rises quickly and hurries around the fire opposite him to try and get out and into the night air before he can stop her.

Ormund can tell it was something he said that has made her leave, so he can't very well command her to stay so he will make her feel even worse. But he does struggle to stand up quickly to limp after her. Snow flutters about him and his breath steam as he begs, "I apologize if I said something…untoward." He leans forward to try to place a hand against her bicep without grabbing at her, just a touch, a beg for her to stop and turn around. "Please, stay inside by the fire. If you need some space I will stay in one of the tents." He gestures to one of the now out of use tents flanking the pavilion. "Please don't hurt yourself anymore."

"I will be fine," Eiris says, turning on him and coming to face him, her breath coming quick and easy to notice with the misting of her breath. She stares up at him, searching his face before she looks aside. "You may be a knight who holds to his code but you are also a man who has treated me as if …as I am someone he favors. You can not…should not do such a thing. It is impossible. When all this is done I will return to my family, I will help my father with hunts. You will see to your children and your people and we will rarely see each other. Speaking so plainly…do not..please. It is not fair," she breathes. "Neither of us can act upon such feelings, it is impertinent and impossible." She slowly closes her eyes.

Ormund is actually a bit stunned, wait, she feels similarly!? It makes him swallow hard like that revealed secret was a wad of parchment he's tried to swallow so no one else will find out. "It's not fair and it doesn't have to be exactly that. But… for now… aren't we just Wildlings? Celebrating our good luck together?"

Eiris gives him a long look, one that says he is crazy and even if they are to play out this scenario it's going to end badly. "For now…perhaps," she draws a long breath. "And what of after….we will need to forget about the Wildlings and their good fortune." The chill wind causes her to shiver only slightly, her blood running hot to cause her skin to go red. SHe doesn't look to him, stares instead at his chest as her hands, resting at the sides of her woolen dresses have begun to shake a little.

Upon seeing she's shaking his cloak is instantly removed in a gallant furl that fluidly ends with it wrapped around her shoulders. Of course, to do this he also steps closer to her. "It is your vision of yourself and the future that is the only thing stopping things from being good fortune in the real world. The Seven saw fit to create you from a relationship you seem to be ashamed of. If it weren't for them, if it weren't for you, I'd be dead. I'd still be feeling dead. This hunt, all of this horror, and the only thing I care about right now…is you. Taking care of yourself. I won't ever believe that that's impossible or impertinent. If what I'm saying and feeling is not returned or wanted by you, then there will be no more of it, noble life or willing. But if you do…" Very gently he tries to lift her chin with a crooked finger.

Eiris looks from his arm to the other as he wraps her up and it's not from the cold alone that she shakes. She shies a little but not so far that his finger does not find its place below her chin. Slowly her chin lifts and those hazel eyes, now green in the dark meet his gaze. "I do.." she whispers, lashes fluttering as her hands curl into the sides of his cloak. Simple and true she waits, watching him closely through its obvious her words have undone her own person.

Ormund is shivering himself, not at all because he's now shirtless in the light snow. In fact, he feels quite feverish again and the snow steams off of his body when it lands leaving little stars of water blinking in the moonlight on his skin. The hooked finger uncurls sliding in a caress up her cheek to more affectionally hold the side of her face. "May I kiss you? Lady Flowers." The way he says her name is with a cherish.

Everything should not be happening but his words and touch blind her to the wrong and right as her breath catches at the back of her throat. Those green eyes find him and hold there. Her throat is suddenly dry and she must swallow but there comes a nod, moving her cheek against his palm. "Yes.." she says. Yes he can kiss her. Lady Flowers. She owns no title and to give one to a bastard is something she would argue about but her attention is fully on him. Fingers tighten slowly, white knuckles showing.

Ever so slowly, maybe it's causing his joints or cold, or more likely he is assuming this is the first time she's been kissed and so he's letting the moment build. He helps to tilt her head one way with his hand on her cheek and his own head tilts the other way. It has been a long time since he's done any romantic kissing, in fact, the kissing with his wife was always something very nice, but even then he might not label it romantic kissing. So he as well is quite new to the feeling that comes over him when he finally presses his lips to hers. Despite being cold it's like all his warmth has rushed to his lips so that he can transfer the warmth into her.

He was correct in assuming Eiris has never been kissed and so that moment of initial contact leaves her heart thundering, her face heating up quickly. She needs the guidance, relies on it utterly as her mouth remains there, pressed to his with no movement on her part. The quick successive rush of air from her nose becomes brisk, as her heart skips a few beats. If she was shaking before now it becomes a full-blown tremble as her stomach twists and knots in on itself. Butterflies cause her to catch her breath deeply. The tremor will carry through, be felt against his lips as the Flowers remains utterly still.

Ormund shifts, her studies in tracking and studying movements can probably gather what he's about to do, which is to once again scoop her up into his arms putting the weight on his good leg, hence the shifting. Back into the pavilion he limps, deaf to any complaints from her about him hurting himself again. Ducking into the tent he squeezes them both between the sleeping horses and he sets her down on the seat once again, making sure her feet are stretched out towards the fire. A couple of logs from the still full pile of wood awaiting its fiery death are tossed in and the warmth in the room rolls out in a swoosh. He returns to the seat that had been scooted very close to hers in the wildling roleplay, but this time he sits in it with his back to the fire so that he's facing her. "There, better?" A gentle hand sweeps at her cheek, up and down to bring a light friction warmth to it.

They had kissed. Now she is in his arms. Eiris is lost in all these motions, as all the details become stark in each moment but then become a blur after. She is bereft of him and suddenly sitting at the fire while he tends it. Her eyes find him once more when he touches her cheek and the Flowers holds there, entranced. Her hand lifts to his at her cheek as her fingers, rough as they brush against his wrist, then up across the side of his hand then slowly back down, past his wrist, along with is forearm until they are down and fall away back to her lap. "Yes."

The smile he gives her is one she will recognize from his fever, unfiltered joy and fondness. "You don't have to stop. I very much like it when you touch me. Especially my hair…" He leans forward to whisper the last part, as if it's their secret and that he knows she likes to do it herself. The broadcasting of him coming in for another kiss is extremely loud and obvious as his fingers on her cheek give the slightest of pressing to tilt her head so they don't bump noses in their second kiss. He at first kisses her top lip, the kiss almost like a nip, but his thin lips are only trying to provoke her own lips into a reaction, soon the bottom lip is given little egging on and then he's leaning more into her deepening the kiss only slightly.

Fingers curled in her lap, her body tensing when he comes in but that cheek turns with his urging. Her heart skips then surges forward when he finally kisses her. Eyes widen for just a second when he nips her lip. There is a rush of broken breath through her nose when the press of his lips firms. It is then he will feel her start to bloom as she leans into him. Her hands do not know what to do with themselves, busying themselves with holding her skirts in place. Her stomach tightens, butterflies rushing up through her as that radiant heat form her increases. Eiris tilts her chin up, her nose brushing his when she does. Soft lips begin to part and there is a slight tremor from the Flowers as her hand finally starts to lift to touch his chest and steady herself. Calloused hands press to that soft bare flesh and start to draw back.

The lord's free hand lifts to caress the back of the hand that was at his chest, encouraging it to stay with a little press. He'll then take her other hand and gently guide it too, up to rest at the back of his neck, "I know you like it." Playing with his hair. The whisper is only a moment and he begins to kiss her again. The part of her lips taken full advantage of and he deepens the kiss. Slowly, patiently he teaches the fair (if calloused) maid how to kiss. He is re-learning himself so it might have a few awkward times but he is dedicated to the 'lesson'.

In that space where he speaks her eyes half open to look upon him. Her hand flexes at the back of his neck and then firms her hold, hand rising upwards into the soft curls. She does not complain of the scruff and facial hair that leaves her skin a little red as they explore the process of kissing. Her hand finds its place back at his upper chest, resting there. Awkward or not, she begins to warm to the exchange her lips pressing with more assured motions that are not exactly practiced. There is a moment when he will hear the soft sound at the back of her throat when she, as a woman, truly starts to respond to him.

That sound is like an angel's sigh to him and it only encourages him to continue to kiss her, but he shifts and tilts his head the other way nuzzling by her nose as he does to explore from that side of things. There is also a press of his head back a tiny bit in response to the playing of his hair. The duration of the kiss and side effects of the mugwort have lips drying, so he slides just the very tip of his tongue out to give his lips, and hers along with them and warm little lick.

The encouraging press of his head against her fingers threaded through his hair has her making another sound. Eiris inhales sharply and her focus splits and then pinpoints the soft curls as her hand rises up to smooth through them. The rest of her is lost in that whirlwind between them, her breath coming quickly and not as steady as it was before. It is his tongue that sends her to tremble once more, the butterflies continuing to rise into her throat and give her a great deal unsteadiness. She does not pull away, however, as her own tongue mirrors his motions against his lips.

Ormund wraps his good arm around her and sort of draws her across his chest like a more comfortable and supported dip so they both don't get cricks in their neck if they keep on how they were. He could feel her unsteadiness and this was his solution. His arm in the sling is over her chest, but he is a gentleman and it's kept vey still, pinned where it is. Even in the movement he tries to maintain the kiss and her togue is given a little greeting and welcoming dance with his own. His eyes are closed and they close even more as he really does enjoy his hair being played with. It's something he's never really experienced before his fever either. Juleen was much too preoccupied with her amazing golden Lannister mane to care to play with his chestnut curls.

Caught by the soft curls and sound change in position, Eiris mmmms against his mouth. The brash young woman becomes emboldened and spreads her fingers to capture his curls the brush through them. Her fingers open and close, hand continuing to move.

She us not skilled but there is effort and feeling behind that kiss. One that has her squirming closer only to feel his arm against her chest. She makes another sound in her through as her kiss becomes more urgent, more sure. Her hand stills in his hair merely cupping the back of his head.

There was a moment of strain when she bumps up against his arm over her. He was trying to keep it out of the way. But that sound and the way she moves and kisses him has his gentlemanly side slacking and he gives his arm a rest now, which of course allows him to enjoy himself more in a few ways. The outside curve of one of her pert breasts is simply cupped in a resting way. The scratchiness of his beard travels leaving her skin a bit pink in its wake as he kisses along her jaw line and then down onto her neck.

The raw nerves of her being are made more so by the passage of his hand along her breast beneath thick wool. Her breath hitches, catching at the back of her throat and can be felt doing so again when his lips press there. Her eyes blink open to stare over him. The feeling of his breath against her skin brings a tremor the rises along her spine. Fingers press at his skull and the brush through his soft curls. "My Lord," she whispers nervously as the fluttering of her stomach increases. For a moment her head turns, tilting aside to allow him more of her flesh and the dip in her dress to show her collarbone.

Ormund was just about to travel the planes of said bone structure, but the nervousness in her murmur has his head popping up so that he can look her in the eyes. "Sorry?" 'Too much?' is in the tone of that questioning sorry. There is a tick in the corner of his eyes as he starts to move his resting hand as well, Respecting her boundaries even before she's laid them out.

Sorry. Eiris blinks open her eyes, all flushed and wavering when he pulls away from her. "Ahh..no..yes…no…" she can not apparently decide and instead of linger in that awkward moment, she pulls away fully and pushes herself up. "I am going to go collect some more snow for water…I won't be long." Her focus is on the task and she steps around his leg which have pressed near her own. "I will be but a moment," she reassures him. She goes for the pot, gathering it up to head out into the evening and scoop snow into it with something of a serious dedication.

The Lord looks a bit confused by her mixture and variety of replies. He'll help her up with his good arm and make sure his bad one is tucked into its sling since it doesn't have a nice soft place to rest anymore. When she returns he's standing in the entry way, with Dawn, talking to her in whispers, foreheads pressed together as they chat. But his view also was on the outside of the tent, he was keeping an eye on her while she was snow collecting. "There she is Dawn, I told you she'd be back. Hmm? Well darling perhaps that's something to ask her?" Ormund looks from Dawn to the returning Eiris, "Dawn was just wondering if you are alright. If I did anything to make you feel uncomfortable?"

Looking form horse to master, Eiris' expression betrays her for only a second before she steps away and lowers the pot near the fire. Only then does she rise and truly look at him - far more composed. "When….when this is all over. When you return to your home..and I to mine. I don't want it to end," she admits softly. "But I also know I can not allow you to see me or I you. I don't want to wait for you when I know it can not be. I think …" her voice trails and she fights herself a moment. "You have not hurt me only what is to be our predicament hurts me," she admits. "All I want to do is touch your hair, your face, to kiss you again…to do things I should never speak of."

Ormund gives Dawn's forelock a stroke and settle it on her forehead so that it lays prettily, just the way she likes it. "There you are. Now, if you'll excuse us darling." She kisses his palm and he steps away to approach Eiris doing his best not to limp. He picks up his tea and takes another drink.

"What I was saying earlier is that I disagree with all your assumptions about our future. Am I going to have a continual parade of rich and powerful noblewomen. Probably. Am I interested in re-marrying right now? No, I have my children, they are well cared for." Their lives in the parental care area hasn't changed very much. Their mother left the children's care to the septa's and other servants.

"There are thousands of people in our city alone that have a healthy relationship outside of marriage. So long as each is prepared and ready for the sacrifices that will come, it's true. I'm busy it's true, but I do have the power to see a change, Your mother, soon as she's feeling better can be made a maid to Lynesse. After all, wasn't she a maid in the North? To everyone else she'd be instated to work off the favor of the maester I provided." The truth will only be for them to know. "You father will finally be back in the tower. With his daughter of course coming with them. There are ways in the tower that we can see plenty of each other." Secret passages and chambers.

He moves to hold her. "All you have to do is touch my hair, my face, kiss me again and again and whisper to me those things that you should never be shy about speaking to me about."

When he offers her the life of a secret mistress, Eiris tenses a little when he moves to hold her. "And when it comes time for me to wed?" She studies his face, searching his own before her hand comes to rest on his good arm, "Is that what you want for me? Secret meetings with our own sweet nothings and barely more than a few words to each other in front of others?"

Her eyes close and she bows her head. "And you think I should accept such an arrangement? Because you are a Lord and any woman no matter her rank should be grateful to have any little piece of you for themselves?" She's forgetting his own participation.

"Do you care for me or the idea of me?" Those hazel eyes are earnest, bold and they press from him an answer. "I am overly fond of you. I worry for you….you are my…first. All I want is to love you and I feel foolish for it." She steps in then, resting her head beneath his chin. "I think being a secret would slowly kill me," she whispers. A breath drawn has her shifting against his form before her head turns, tilts, stares up at him. Her hand lifts and she smooths it against his cheek. "If I had been born noble…or you a commoner," she tells him. If only. She turns her head, catching his lips softly with her own as her hands grip into his curls. Its a beautiful kiss, something sweet and emotional before she draws her own breath and most slowly part from his lips. "I want to be able to have the freedom to love you."

"You are of noble blood." He kisses her forehead. "Do you know that House Oldflowers are just that? They have bastard origins. It's not unheard of for a Bastard to be raised in status. All your father need do is legitimize you. It'll take time for people's minds to be washed. But it is not unheard of." He pets her hair back away from her face and also tries to tilt her head so he can look down into her eyes. "Do you want to be married to me? Become Lady of Oldtown? Instantly have four children, one of whom is not much younger than you are." This realization clobbers him over the head. "You can have all the freedom in the world if you wish it. But what you need to do is ask yourself if it's me, or the idea of me. Because I'm insulted that you could ask that of me. After all we've been through in the last several days. Again we must work on your tendency for self sabotage…"

"You berate me for my view of myself, and you were the one who suggested I be a secret lover to you." Eiris furrows her brows, turning her head to study his face. "I ask you..I ask you because you asked me to move into your home with you, but in secret. The reason my mother would have a position would be so you could carry on with me with no questions. What does that tell me, my lord." She uses his title still, her lips firming into a line. "I would be a poor mother, your children would not accept me and we both know this. Your infatuation with me will fade with time, you say you will have parades of noble women, more able to take on the role of a mother or your wife than I. I am foolish," she says softly and presses against his chest to give them distance, to break free of him. "Tomorrow we should go back. You are ready, as am I. We can send others to retrieve everything else upon our return. Your children are probably worried for you."

Ormund's eyebrow quirks up a bit. "I have yet to berate. Trust in that. I offer to make your worries of not being able to be together away. Your mother will have the position no matter what. I have always wanted your father back in the Tower. Having the three of you there would make me happy, yes. What it should tell you is that I'm willing to do what must be done to make your dreams come true. You want to be with me, you can be with me. However you want to be with me. There again, you debase yourself. You would be an amazing role-model to my children. But only when you finally realize that you're amazing. The parade has been endless and yet, here I am. with you, thinking of dishonorable deeds and schemes. I am sorry." He shakes his head and rubs at his temples. "This isn't me… Yes. You're right, we go home tomorrow. I do want to say, that I am very grateful for all that you've done for me. You have saved my life and without any strings or expectations I want you to know that I wish to do anything in my power to make your life easier and better. I hope you can forgive me, and forget this. I am going to pray and then turn in. Good night Eiris."

Lips slowly part and all the Flowers can do is stare after him, as if he had forgotten some of the things he had said and made the more presentable. Eiris swallows heavily and nods her head, "Of course, my lord. Prayer is likely the best idea," she whispers and dips into a deep curtsie that leaves her there when he goes to turn away. She rises slowly, staring at the fire before looking to the horses and she slips out into the night. She will find a place to pray as well, but to the Old Gods, the ones her mother taught her of. The ones she feels still live within the very ground.

They both rest, further from each other than they have been most nights. But there is a shuffle of cloth, of blankets and then a soft brush of a hand upon his shoulder. The fire has burned low, embers offering only a faint illumination of the outline of her face and that rich red hair. Eiris attempts to not wake him, but her lips come in contact with his cheek, his temple, his head and then she settles into sitting beside him, leaning over him with her hand on the other side of of him and against her hip. Her other hand lifts, carefully reaching out to brush her fingers through those soft curls, her expression growing sweet, a faint smile pulling at her lips.

A sharp snort comes when finally it's sunken in that he's not alone on his mat on the floor, since he's sleeping by the fire still with her having his comfy cot. "Hmmwha?" He squints in the darkness. "Eiris…" He whispers in surprise and the 'what are you doing!?' is all wrapped up in his tone. But the stroke of his curls lulls him so immediately she might as well have just found his snooze button as he almost falls back to sleep.

"I don't want to be a secret…but more than that, I don't want to be without you," she says softly, though he may not understand her. She leans down however and places another kiss upon his cheek before she rests her forehead against his temple, her rich hair falling down around them. Fingers curl into his hair and then loosen, smoothing and stroking it as she hums softly. She begins to sing in an airy voice. "I will go with you," she whispers finally, the song breaking. "I will join you…in the halls of your home. Just to be near you if nothing else." Even if it means she will never touch him again but merely to share smiles. He's stolen the young girl's heart, twined it around his fingers and left her with little choice in the end. "I will love you from afar, sing for you when I can, share time and company." She lets out a long breath and continues to stroke his hair.

Ormund shifts on his make-shift bed so he can nuzzle into her hair and better dig his head into her fingers. "I can't do that to you. I was wrong to even suggest the thought. You are too precious. I simply want the best for you and your family. I can't believe I said those things. I wasn't myself…I'm still not." The way he naturally just moves in against her, to nuzzle, cuddle and scratch her soft skin with his scruff as he does so. In the dark he can see the presence of that collar bone, he never did get to kiss it, and so he does, just to get it out of his system. Just one kiss and he'll be able to break out of this spell. Just one. Just one more… … "Sing for me." That should help ease him down back into sleep. Right?

Eiris melts upon feeling his face in her thick curtain of hair, her smile warming a measure or two. Her fingers thread through his hair, brushing, massaging into his scalp so that when his head moves she knows it. It comes with that scratchy kiss to her collarbone and she draws a slow, measured and focused breath. Sing. Her face is alight with warmth, heat rising as her chin tucks and she looks at him. Her hand never leaves his hair as her hazel eyes search his face. She begins to sing, rather softly the song she had first given life to in front of him. "I live not where I love…" how true. She leans closer to him, her other hand coming to rest beside his head to hold herself aloft.

Nuzzling into her hair and chemise above her chest he breathes in her scent and he squeezes her side to support her up as well and then also try to shift her to the side. He watches her sing in the dim light and he looks so at peace as she sings and plays with his hair. After the song is done though he kisses her feather-soft drift and whispers, "I need you to go back to bed. I need to think and pray, pray a lot. Pray that I prove myself in this. That I do not dishonor you further and myself give you the respect and treatment I would like others, including yourself, give you." He kisses her chin, "I adore you. Good night."

He is in no such luck at first, not when he kisses her chin. Eiris tilts her head down and captures his lips. Its not needful or lustful, rather a simple innocent proclamation. But she pulls back, releasing him from her mouth as her hand presses to the side of his jaw and then draws across his chin and finally away as she pushes herself up away from him. "Good night," she bids him, hesitant to leave his side as she gets her knees beneath her and starts to rise, hands gathering her skirts to keep from stepping on them as she gazes down at him. She crosses back around the other side of the fire to lay down, curling up on the pad of blankets. She does not fall asleep right away, her gaze instead looking towards him through the low burning embers.

Ormund must close his eyes to keep up the willpower to let her go, and he is already praying as she starts to get up. After a few round of prayers he curls up and his eyes open and through the flames their eyes meet. In the dimness of the tent he brings it up some by feeding the fire so they don't get a chill at night. "Good night."

Eventually she does slumber, resting upon her back with one arm arcing over over her head. So relaxed her hands lay half open and her breath is even. Her face is utterly relaxed, her wavy ginger hair spread out beneath her as the blankets have drifted. It means that her foot is revealed for the darkened look of her smallest two toes.

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