of the number of fights I have broken up since I arrived home. I fear by the time the day of the ceremony arrives people will be too busy fighting in the streets to notice."
"Has it become so bad here?" Ivan asked, surprise.
"Unfortunately," Ailill said with another sigh. "Cats versus dogs, who will band together long enough to pick on snakes, who in turn hate the avian—it's a mess. I've not had much chance to speak with the other Beasts, but my impression is that they are just as exhausted. Lady Elianne returned home to deal with that very sort of problem on her estate. Kundou had its mermaids, Pozhar had its Vessel hunts, Piedre its bloody cults, and we are breaking into groups and feuding."
Ivan shifted, moved, and then was sitting next to him in the carriage. It was crowded, but Ailill did not care in the slightest. He leaned into Ivan, soaking up the smell of him, liking the hint of some spicy cologne mingled with the earthier, smoky scent of Ivan himself.
Calloused fingers combed through his hair, dislodged the ribbon loosely holding it back and tilted his face up to take a brief but firm kiss. "It will work out. If there is one thing I have learned in the past couple of years, it is that it pays to have faith. You were always more faithful than me, faerie child. Do not lose that faith now."
Ailill nodded, but stayed leaning against him, curving one hand lightly over Ivan's thigh, just relishing his warmth and solidity. It unsettled him just how much he really had missed Ivan. They had not known each other long. There were people he'd known longer whose faces he could not recall. He did not think he would ever forget Ivan's. "I'm glad you came to visit me," he said.
"I am glad I finally decided to make the journey," Ivan said quietly. "You're remarkably hard to forget, cat."
"Wait until we stop for the night," Ailill said with a smirk, squeezing Ivan's thigh. "I will be more than happy to demonstrate the more memorable parts of me."
Ivan laughed and brushed back his hair, lips grazing his ear before he nipped it sharply. "Looking forward to it, though that was not the only reason I missed you."
Ailill shivered, but did not reply, content simply to sit there and soak up the warmth of Ivan's presence.
Chapter Five: Royal Ball
Gael held still while Freddie fussed with his cravat, folding and knotting and driving him utterly mad.
"Hold still," Freddie admonished, swatting his chest and undoing all of her work. Gael heaved a long sigh, but it garnered him no sympathy. "If you would hold still and stop fidgeting like a mouse among cats then I would already be done. Hold. Still." She swatted him again for good measure and resumed working on his cravat.
He forced himself to remain still, but it was hard. He was tired of people being close, tired of the rooms and the way they closed in on him, tired of the tension. Then there was the royal ball, just minutes away. The only thing he dreaded more was the ceremony.
"There, all done," Freddie said. "Honestly, it's a disgrace that at your age you cannot tie any, but the plainest knots."
Gael reached up to lightly touch the elaborate folds of white and silver lace, the gleaming opal pinning all in place. Sliding his gaze to Freddie, he said, "Honestly, it's a disgrace that at your age you cannot put on the simplest gown."
"Roast your mother," Freddie said cheerfully, running her hands over white breeches that had the faintest shimmer of gold to them. "Do not be jealous I wear breeches better than you." She eyed him critically, lingering on his crotch with a smirk. "Though I suppose one might argue it depends on what you like filling your breeches."
Rolling his eyes, Gael picked up a jacket that made of the most delicate, pale gray with opal buttons and trimmed in dark silver. "You are incorrigible."
"I have never denied it," Freddie replied with a grin before turning to look in a full length mirror to fuss with her own clothes, running a hand through her short hair.
"Has it become so bad here?" Ivan asked, surprise.
"Unfortunately," Ailill said with another sigh. "Cats versus dogs, who will band together long enough to pick on snakes, who in turn hate the avian—it's a mess. I've not had much chance to speak with the other Beasts, but my impression is that they are just as exhausted. Lady Elianne returned home to deal with that very sort of problem on her estate. Kundou had its mermaids, Pozhar had its Vessel hunts, Piedre its bloody cults, and we are breaking into groups and feuding."
Ivan shifted, moved, and then was sitting next to him in the carriage. It was crowded, but Ailill did not care in the slightest. He leaned into Ivan, soaking up the smell of him, liking the hint of some spicy cologne mingled with the earthier, smoky scent of Ivan himself.
Calloused fingers combed through his hair, dislodged the ribbon loosely holding it back and tilted his face up to take a brief but firm kiss. "It will work out. If there is one thing I have learned in the past couple of years, it is that it pays to have faith. You were always more faithful than me, faerie child. Do not lose that faith now."
Ailill nodded, but stayed leaning against him, curving one hand lightly over Ivan's thigh, just relishing his warmth and solidity. It unsettled him just how much he really had missed Ivan. They had not known each other long. There were people he'd known longer whose faces he could not recall. He did not think he would ever forget Ivan's. "I'm glad you came to visit me," he said.
"I am glad I finally decided to make the journey," Ivan said quietly. "You're remarkably hard to forget, cat."
"Wait until we stop for the night," Ailill said with a smirk, squeezing Ivan's thigh. "I will be more than happy to demonstrate the more memorable parts of me."
Ivan laughed and brushed back his hair, lips grazing his ear before he nipped it sharply. "Looking forward to it, though that was not the only reason I missed you."
Ailill shivered, but did not reply, content simply to sit there and soak up the warmth of Ivan's presence.
Chapter Five: Royal Ball
Gael held still while Freddie fussed with his cravat, folding and knotting and driving him utterly mad.
"Hold still," Freddie admonished, swatting his chest and undoing all of her work. Gael heaved a long sigh, but it garnered him no sympathy. "If you would hold still and stop fidgeting like a mouse among cats then I would already be done. Hold. Still." She swatted him again for good measure and resumed working on his cravat.
He forced himself to remain still, but it was hard. He was tired of people being close, tired of the rooms and the way they closed in on him, tired of the tension. Then there was the royal ball, just minutes away. The only thing he dreaded more was the ceremony.
"There, all done," Freddie said. "Honestly, it's a disgrace that at your age you cannot tie any, but the plainest knots."
Gael reached up to lightly touch the elaborate folds of white and silver lace, the gleaming opal pinning all in place. Sliding his gaze to Freddie, he said, "Honestly, it's a disgrace that at your age you cannot put on the simplest gown."
"Roast your mother," Freddie said cheerfully, running her hands over white breeches that had the faintest shimmer of gold to them. "Do not be jealous I wear breeches better than you." She eyed him critically, lingering on his crotch with a smirk. "Though I suppose one might argue it depends on what you like filling your breeches."
Rolling his eyes, Gael picked up a jacket that made of the most delicate, pale gray with opal buttons and trimmed in dark silver. "You are incorrigible."
"I have never denied it," Freddie replied with a grin before turning to look in a full length mirror to fuss with her own clothes, running a hand through her short hair.
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