FOR Isto Rivenn

Isla didn’t know the first thing about how to behave in such a place as Rorin, but she was aware that it was important to look like she belonged. She made quick work of finding a few nice traveling outfits that would be appropriate for such society, briefly - and only briefly - thankful that she had the funding from Isto to do so. The King had driven her almost about as mad as he seemed with his behavior, but now she felt concern for him. He had never been so sudden in needing to meet in the past, and her heart had grown soft to his needs within the time she had been gone. Perhaps it was the guilt of leaving so suddenly or the desire to feel connection to another person after being trapped with strangers for so long, she has no idea.

Either way, Isla could feel a pulse of anxiousness thrumming through her body as she approached Rorin. She was able to gain access to her room in the center of the city with no problems, having combed and plaited her hair just prior to her arrival to avoid any looks of concern or confusion as to her purpose there.

A man helped her with her single bag, which she thought was silly, but gave him a bit of coin in response. It seemed to be the thing to do around here, as if everyone just had money to throw wherever they liked. After he left, she sat down on the feather filled bed and took a look around. It was nothing like any place she had ever stayed before. Extra pillows, warmed water upon her arrival, her own space for washing up. Isla wondered absently if the people in Rorin had ever wanted for anything in their lives.

She took advantage of the warm water basin by cleaning her face and pressing the warm cloth to her neck as a bit of reprieve from travel and the stiffness she felt in her body. After a few moments Isla stripped down and gave herself a quick once over with the cloth while the water was still fresh. She pulled one of her new dresses and took her hair from its plait to fall gently over her shoulders. She was only beginning to think about sending word to Isto when the door of her room flung open - had she forgotten to lock it? - and said man was standing in the entryway looking as cheeky as ever.

“Gods, did you have me followed?” She asked, wondering how he knew when exactly she had arrived. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

T

he king’s penultimate correspondence with Isla indicated he would wait for her reply before making for Rorin. A reply that would, crucially, supply the location where they would meet. Soon after the letter was on its way, however, he decided there really was no reason to delay his departure. Aquila, his chrysaetos, could find him as easily in the upper province as at the palace. That way, he could cut several days off the inbetween and meet her sooner.

Isto was pleased to see Isla had taken up temporary residence in luxury. Any accommodation would have suited him but this, he hoped, may serve to aid in his application to her. Isla, he knew, was not a particularly materialistic woman. While perhaps more to do with the social class she was born into than total disinterest in the finer things life has to offer, he was not confident she could be easily swayed by the promise of more. After all, it had been at her fingertips before.

After so many encounters of late as Henrik, he felt a little strange meeting her in his capacity as king. Almost as if he was uncertain she would recognize him in his ostentatious dress and manners, Even though she had been officially in his employ at one time, it seemed like another life now. In a way, it had been.

He allowed a small amount of time for her to settle before inviting himself in. Bursting through the door as if the room was his own. A stupid smirk spread across his face as he leaned against the doorframe, appraising her a little. She looked beautiful with her dark wavy hair loose and pulled to one side, clad in a shade of green that complimented her brown eyes. The dress was simple and understated but high quality.

“Sorry I’m late,” the king said by way of greeting. When she demanded to know if he had her followed, Isto nodded toward the balcony where Aqulia was perched. “Something like that.” He stepped inside and turned to utter some basic instructions to his guards in the corridor before closing it. Then, to Isla’s other question, he replied, “I’m just happy to see you.”

TAG:     Isla Mysra

[googlefont=UnifrakturMaguntia]

[attr="class","mizocredit"]

MADE BY MIZO

[newclass=.mizocredit]font:bold 6pt calibri;color:#ffffff;[/newclass][newclass=.invheader] background: #7cb1bb; padding: 5px 5px; color: #ffffff; font: 12px/11px Open Sans Condensed; margin: 3px 2px 3px 0; display: inline-block; text-decoration: none; [/newclass][googlefont=Open+Sans][googlefont=Karla]

FOR Isto Rivenn

Isla’s smirk mirrored the King’s. There was something infectious about his goofy ways, and it appeared at times that even she was not immune to it. She absently wondered if everyone in his presence felt such a way, or if it were only people who truly knew what he was like outside of all the fine things and airs he managed to put on in polite society.

She tried to look around him at his guards, taking a step back as he closed the door behind him. If she were any other woman, Isla would be worried about propriety or status, but seeing as they had plenty of alone time in the past, a closed door was not a bother to her. She looked behind him again, making sure the door was fully shut before speaking. “I’m happy to see you too.” She said honestly, taking him in dressed in his full kingly regalia. He looked much more handsome without that ratty Henrik wig. She blushed.

Isla had been worried about his letter to begin with, and seeing him as himself - someone she hadn’t been with for a very long time - was making her the slightest bit nervous. “Did you have to send your bird to spy on me?” She asked, nodding over to Aquila before focusing her attention on Isto once more. “I could have just sent you word I was here…you know? Like we planned?” She arched a brow and picked up one of his letters that she had left out before walking further into the room. The place was large enough to fit three tavern sized rooms inside of it. She had no idea what someone would need with all of this space.

“Do not fret - though I am flattered you do - I am the picture of health and sanity.” Isla quoted his last letter that she had received, folding it and setting it back down on the bed. “Health?” she questioned, crossing her arms as she looked at him. “Probably. Sanity? I’m not so sure.” Her teasing faltered for a moment. “What’s this all about, Isto?”

T

he king stepped further into the room, his long legs carrying him to the center table in just a few strides. He lifted the crown from his head and set it down on the round slab of smooth mangowood. “I did, yes,” Isto replied simply, unclasping the ornate cape he wore and tossing it over the back of a chair. It was entirely too hot to have to wear so many layers any longer than was necessary. Frankly, everyone was lucky he agreed to wear anything at all during the summer months.

Isto breathed a long exhale, visibly more at ease with the cape and crown set aside. He felt more himself. Or rather, more like Henrik - just a silly man of little import - except without having to play a part to hide in plain sight. It was really only with Isla that he felt he could be so authentic.

A cheeky smile spread across his mouth as he belatedly added some explanation. “I thought perhaps that, given a choice, your preference of spy would have been a man-sized bird rather than a bird-sized man. I do apologize if I assumed incorrectly.” Isto tipped his head in an apologetic sort of bow.

It surprised him a little to see one of his letters so readily accessible. A fact he gladly let go to his head. Isto wondered how many times she reread them and what else, if anything, she might have retained from her time as his guard. Perhaps it was even an omen that things would go his way.

“Health? Probably.”

“As you see here.” He opened his arms out to the sides and turned in place. “Do not I look well?” Isto knew he did. He had made it a point to be for this— dressed handsomely, freshly shaved and shorn, well rested, and sober since he wrote the first letter. “I think you even blushed when I entered the room,” Isto teased.

“Sanity? I’m not so sure.”

The king shrugged and his gaze briefly dropped to the floor. “Well, no worse than usual, I should think,” he conceded, though it was not the whole truth. Things had been getting increasingly out of hand. Something she had probably sensed when she last met him in Noria. Isto, at least, had sense enough to know when he was perilously close to hitting rock bottom of a self-destructive streak and stopped just shy of it.

“To answer your earlier question…” He went and snatched the letter up off the bed, quoting the preceding line back to her. “When have I ever been the patron of a virtue? It is, after all, the well-loved privilege of kings to abstain from patience.” The king released the paper, letting it flutter down to the floor. “Waiting is not my strong suit.”

Isto ignored the straight-to-the-point question. “You are looking especially beautiful, Isla,” he observed instead, letting his stare linger in a way that she would know he meant it. He would answer her eventually but wished to dally a little longer. This was a matter that required some delicacy and buttering up. No doubt Isla would see right through him, as she often did, but neither would he be easily deterred.

He started to take a turn about the room, surveying the quality and decor. Much like the dress she chose, the room was refined and elegant without being particularly ostentatious. “You have fine taste, my lady Sharptongue.” The nickname was spoken affectionately and the sentiment was genuine. “How are you enjoying Rorin?”

TAG:     Isla Mysra

[googlefont=UnifrakturMaguntia]

[attr="class","mizocredit"]

MADE BY MIZO

[newclass=.mizocredit]font:bold 6pt calibri;color:#ffffff;[/newclass][newclass=.invheader] background: #7cb1bb; padding: 5px 5px; color: #ffffff; font: 12px/11px Open Sans Condensed; margin: 3px 2px 3px 0; display: inline-block; text-decoration: none; [/newclass][googlefont=Open+Sans][googlefont=Karla]

FOR Isto Rivenn

Isla should have known better than to assume he would come out and tell her what he wanted, especially when he wouldn’t put it in a letter. She was smart enough to know it was something a bit more serious then, seeing as Isto had no problem sending bundles of money with his note - surely he assumed they were immune to being intercepted.

She watched with curiosity as he discarded some of his Kingly items - the lack of crown and cape making him seem that much more “normal” to the untrained eye. Isla noted that his posture changed, or maybe it was the shift of going from King Kristopher to simply Isto. She had never watched the man disrobe before, but there was a palpable difference to him in that moment.

“You assume correctly, as it turns out.” She offered, having indeed much preferred a feathered friend than a man watching her every move. She absently wondered how long the creature had been following her, or if it was only watching for her arrival in the city. Either way, it was very Isto to be thinking of what she would prefer rather than what could be his own ease in determining where she was.

Isla rolled her eyes skyward. “Well enough, I suppose.” She replied, moving out of his way as he gave her a spin as proof. Even though he had gotten rid of the crown and the cape, it was clear to her that he still looked the picture of being put together. His clothing was all immaculately pressed - a wonder that it stayed that way despite his traveling - and it seemed that not a hair was out of place on his kingly head. He was behaving in a way that caused her some alarm, but it couldn’t distract her enough from knowing how handsome he was. It was something she had noted before - even as Henrik - but chose to push somewhere she could forget about it.

Her attention snapped at his comment about her earlier blush, bringing an end to her brief admiration of him. She turned away and walked towards his spy of a bird and gave it a quick pat on the head while looking out the window. It was a pity she couldn’t jump out of it and rid herself of the embarrassment of her behavior already. She turned back to him when he read from his own letter. “You may not have much patience, but your ability to stall is unparalleled.”

Isla wanted to challenge him, with another quick quip, but was silenced by his own compliment. She had no fierce comment for that, as she knew Isto was mad as could be, but was honest in his admiration for others - whether it be their look, wits, or any other trait he enjoyed about someone.

“This fine taste is brought to you by your own coin.” She did a little mock curtsey before actually answering him. “Rorin is as I had always heard it to be - beautiful, if not a bit pretentious.” She explained to him how it would have never crossed her mind to visit the city until now, specifically until she was invited. “I was pleasantly surprised that it has such beautiful surroundings. I was able to stop and enjoy the river for a while…” she trailed off, eyeing him a bit suspiciously before continuing on. They really didn’t have the opportunity to speak so candidly - especially after all this time - so she granted him a few moments further of stalling.

Isla moved back towards him, shuffling the papers on the bed as she reached for her bag - suddenly remembering something. “It may come as a surprise that I didn’t set the rest of your monetary gift to me on fire, but I may have done something close.” She pulled a neatly folded piece of paper from her bag and held it in front of her. “Happy belated Solstice.” She offered it to him with an outstretched arm. “I don’t think he captured my likeness without a scowl, but...”

“B

ut not handsome enough to tempt you,” he suggested, though not really meaning anything by the comment. Even if he had punctuated it with a clear question mark, it would have been largely rhetorical. Just something that popped out of his mouth in response, unfiltered. A quippy little self-deprecating dig that, at best, fished for a less opaque compliment or sought to make her blush again.

“What can I say, it’s a gift.” Isto could easily detect some agitation in her banter. That was not exactly abnormal for Isla, but this time the source from which it sprang differed. She was, the king realized, truly concerned. Which should not have come as any great surprise. Isla had said as much in her letters. She was still highly attuned to him, it seemed. Not the least bit thrown off the scent by his silliness or insistence that all was well. Neither had she forgotten the score, though. It was far less tedious to play along than try to persuade him to divulge a point before he was ready to.

He agreed with her assessment of Rorin. It was a piece of Thisbē that the wealthiest aimed to keep for themselves and did a fair job of it. Anyone who was anyone in their high society vacationed or had a country home there. Lowborn were really only welcome as servants or people in trade. Isto was pleased he could give Isla the opportunity to enjoy the luxury, even if only for a few days. Though she did not know it yet, it could be for much longer if she wished it. “No, indeed, I know you to be an experienced enough adventurer to know what shit kindling coins make.”

He raised his brows with curious interest when she indicated the money had been burned another way. “A gift?” This was unexpected. Enough to pause the game; lower his deflective guard. “For me?” Isto could not recall the last time he had received a truly personal gift. Something with no ulterior motive. Something for Isto the man of little import, not Isto the king. He squinted disapprovingly at her and grumbled about ‘amending the rules next time’ while he reached for the proffered paper.

Isto carefully unfolded the edges of the portrait. Green eyes roved the picture, meticulously taking in the details; gobsmacked. It was a very fine likeness, he thought. “Yes,” he softly said of the lacking scowl after a long moment, a small chuckle following. A subtle smile quirked the sides of his mouth briefly. He paused, needing to swallow down unnamed emotions that had formed and lodged in his throat. He had missed her company so dearly in their years apart. Isto was truly touched by how thoughtful the gift was.

“C'est parfait.” the king whispered, still entranced by the picture. Gently, he ran his fingers down the length of the portrait. “Thank you, Isla.” Isto looked back up at her then in a rare moment of pure authenticity. The painting made him feel strangely vulnerable. “I love it.” He sniffed and dropped his gaze back down to his hands, gingerly folding it again. Thinking how he needed it framed immediately, lest something happened to already so treasured a thing.

“Tell me about this artist. He must have been very charming and attractive for that to have been the expression he captured.”

TAG:     Isla Mysra

[googlefont=UnifrakturMaguntia]

[attr="class","mizocredit"]

MADE BY MIZO

[newclass=.mizocredit]font:bold 6pt calibri;color:#ffffff;[/newclass][newclass=.invheader] background: #7cb1bb; padding: 5px 5px; color: #ffffff; font: 12px/11px Open Sans Condensed; margin: 3px 2px 3px 0; display: inline-block; text-decoration: none; [/newclass][googlefont=Open+Sans][googlefont=Karla]

FOR Isto Rivenn

Isla stilled at his comment - knowing the King to be hard on himself at times, but not typically when it came to her opinion of him. She had let him know early on what she thought about him, both as a ruler and as a person in general. Isla had never admitted - and at the time didn’t believe herself to have - any feelings, but she would have quickly debunked him eight thousand times over if it wouldn’t give anything away. “You know how handsome you are.” She paused. “Surely you aren’t fishing for a compliment?”

She gave him a small smile as he took the folded paper from her, but stayed in her place as he opened it. She wanted to see his reaction from up close, but didn’t trust herself not to lean too far in, to remember what it was like to be close to him after so long. Their brief meeting with Isto as Henrik had sparked something inside Isla that she desperately wished to stamp out, and this meeting definitely was not helpful. “You said I should use the coin as I liked.” She offered a retort to his under the breath comment, though she probably would have attempted some sort of gift with or without his funding.

Isla watched carefully as he opened it, both surprised and pleased by his reaction. She had intended it to come out a little more sour-faced, but the artist would have none of it when she explained her relationship with Isto and who the portrait was for. She had, of course, left out any detail that he was a King, his name, or basically any identifying factoid. Only that he was someone special to her, and they had gone a long time without seeing one another.

“I assume that’s a good thing? Parfait?” She asked, her face softening at the look he was giving her. “You’re welcome, but I should also be thanking you for all this again.” It was truly unnecessary and she would have met with him wherever and whenever he wanted, though part of her knew it pleased him to be generous with others.

“Quite the opposite actually.” She told Isto, recounting her random run in with this artist on the street just before she made it into the city limits. She only wanted to give him the extra money from Isto since he looked like he could use it more than she did, but he was quite insistent on giving her something in return. “He was pleasant enough to speak to, and once he knew it was a gift he was insistent on making me look much kinder than I am.” She laughed, recounting to Isto that despite the artwork taking maybe ten minutes of her time, he must have told her to stop fidgeting at least twenty times. “I was eager to get here.”

T

here it was again– the worry in her voice and eyes. It had mostly been a joke. Something meant to draw out her barbed wit in a humorously scathing back and forth. It set him off-kilter when she responded that way. After a small delay, he shrugged and gave a small cheeky smile. “Are kings not privileged to vanity as well as impatience?” Isto countered, trying to bring playfulness back to the conversation. Though it seemed he was struggling to do just that; not immune to the unspoken tension in the room nor his own true feelings and fears in that moment.

“But no, I do not fish,” he decided suddenly, “I mean to ask you outright.” Isto bent to pick up the earlier discarded letter and read another line of his: “I rely on your honesty at our every interaction…. it is my dearest hope that you are sharpening that tongue of yours. Sharp enough to cut me to the quick. Put me on my knees. Make wormsmeat of me.” He lowered the paper mid-speech, recalling his written words well enough, and met her gaze with a strange intensity as he did. “So?” The king raised his brows a little and he made a concerted effort to soften his voice of the previous edge, “Would you judge my beauty worthy of compliment? Am I handsome enough to tempt even my harshest critic into such an utterance?”

* * *

It took the king a moment to realize he had spoken aloud when he had said “C'est parfait”. He nodded, feeling oddly exposed again at her having heard him. “It’s Triston-speak for ‘it’s perfect’.” Isto explained that he was not particularly proficient in the language - which he found to be equal parts beautiful and comically grotesque - but there were certain words and phrases he liked to sprinkle into his words.

Isla’s story about the artist was quite sweet. He admired her intention to help someone with the excess of coin (as he suspected she might). “I am glad he did,” Isto interjected about the artist’s insistence to repay her in some way. It amused him that there was a refusal to create her trademark scowl. He loved the portrait as it was, though. It bore an expression he longed to see from her, and regardless of how their later conversation went, for which he suspected may not go well, he was comforted to be able to take that with him if nothing else.

“I will have to look for him on my way out of Rorin. I should like to thank him myself.”

TAG:     Isla Mysra

[googlefont=UnifrakturMaguntia]

[attr="class","mizocredit"]

MADE BY MIZO

[newclass=.mizocredit]font:bold 6pt calibri;color:#ffffff;[/newclass][newclass=.invheader] background: #7cb1bb; padding: 5px 5px; color: #ffffff; font: 12px/11px Open Sans Condensed; margin: 3px 2px 3px 0; display: inline-block; text-decoration: none; [/newclass][googlefont=Open+Sans][googlefont=Karla]

FOR Isto Rivenn

Isla had done a lot of sharpening of both her tongue and wit both during the time she had lived with Isto as well as the many years after. She of course was not afraid to speak her mind to anyone, but least of all him. Isla knew that he was aware of her in a way that others seemed to miss, and at first it irked her how in tune he seemed to become with her moods and attitude, but now she was grateful for his ability to connect with her. Sometimes she wondered if he had some sort of insight into what she was thinking, but in this moment was certainly grateful that he didn’t.

“You know I wouldn’t lie to you, Isto.” She began, taking a step closer to him. Isla brought up her hands, brushing her fingers over his shoulders and taking a long look at him. “You are looking as handsome as ever. One might say…parfait” She smiled at that, wondering if he truly needed her approval or was seeking something else. Isla stored the comment in the back of her mind for picking apart later. Maybe once they spent more time together she would be able to figure out what was going on with him.

She spent another moment taking him in, studying the way his eyes crinkled just so when he was pleased versus when the smile didn’t quite reach that far. She made a humming noise, albeit briefly, before taking a step back. “I think he would be shocked that I was gifting a portrait of myself to a King, but I’ll take you to him if you want.” Isla could picture it: Isto waltzing up to this man to thank him and everyone in the city positively losing their mind. “You wouldn’t worry about being seen gallivanting around with me?” She asked, genuinely curious as they had only been out of Thisbe as King Kirstopher and his bodyguard, never as anything different. "Is that what this is about...a job?" She asked.