675-11-20 - There are no Bastards!

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There are no Bastards!
Summary: After the audience of the Queen has come to a tumulteous end, Prince Zephan and Pureal discuss the situation - and a certain redhead.
Who: Zephan Onimus and Pureal
References: re:Adara Zorich, re:Abegayle Onimus, re:Edris Alachri
When: November 20th, 675
Related Logs: Happens after 675-11-20 - The Queen Holds Court
Date of RP: 30/11/2014
Where: Zephan's Room - Castle of the White Dove, Isle of the Crown, The Isles
Room Desc: The room is lavishly furnished at least from what can be glimpsed in the flickering light of the torches at the walls. First of all there is the bed in the center, big enough for two, covered with the finest sheets of purple and a slightly ruffled blanket in a darker shade drawn across it for colder nights. A chest in the corner, holding the personal belongings of the Prince, is almost overlooked in the poor light. On a small table is a flagon of red wine and two glasses beside a white burning candle. All pieces of furniture have been carved from dark red cherry wood. In a corner stands a dummy carrying the armor of the prince, well polished and gleaming faintly due to the poor light conditions.


The prince is displeased. It shows in the corners of his mouth that point downwards. It shows in the loud pang of the door as well that hits the wall when he kicks it open. Still. There is that glint in his pale blue eyes, a light dancing there - a refreshing change to the bored look lurking there for the past few days. "That /bastard/!", Zephan hisses to noone in particular as he enters, and his gaze darts towards the half empty flagon of wine on the small table by the seats.

Pureal hasn't said a word since the throne room, not that that's unusual she often goes long stretches with out speaking but this time the silence is occupied by her thoughts. She saw the red haired woman, the one the servant's have spoken of before. She saw her. Everyone saw her.

Once in the room she picks up the wine and pours it into the nearest glass, setting it to the side for him and goes to the cupboard to find another bottle, he'll need it as well she's certain of it.

Zephan may notice the silence, but for now he does not complain about it. After all, he does not keep Pureal for conversation. The frown remains on his features when he takes the glass that she had poured for him and downs it in one single swig. He says nothing for a moment, his gaze following his slave with the look of someone whose thoughts are engaged with what he has just witnessed.

"I only hope Lady Adara proves to be efficient enough to provide us swiftly with the answers we need," the prince finally mutters, thinking aloud rather, than actually attempting to converse with the woman.

Pureal refills the glass once it's lowered, all the way up to the brim before setting the bottle to the side. She steps around and reaches up her hands lifting to his shoulders to start rubbing as she waits for the alcohol to start to seep into him, to decide if it's going to take the edge off or worsen the storm. The pull of her hands is towards one of the chairs but it's a subtle suggestion rather than anything approaching a demand.

Another sip of wine is had, a slightly irritated flinch the first reaction to Pureal's touch to his shoulders. Not objecting then, neither to the touch not to the direction she gently guides him, Zephan will lower himself into the chair, his gaze rising to meet that of Pureal though. She will see the tension in his eyes slowly subside and be replaced with the usual void of emotions.

"You took the dagger...?" The words are murmured softly, almost affectionately as his hand moves to one of hers. "What did you intend to do with it?"

Pureal keeps massaging his shoulders, her fingers moving across the familiar muscles and climbing up his neck. She doesn't say anyting for sometime as she watches him and works. "I thought about stabbing the pregnant woman so she would stop screaming and wailing. But then I decided I would knife the pirate in the back if he attacked you or tried to run." She says rather matter of factly.

"Oh?", Zephan's gaze keeps lingering on Pureal's face, and there is some detached curiosity in his eyes. "The pregnant woman? I thought you'd understand her better than to wish her dead. Her fate is, in a way, similar to yours." He leans into the touch of her hands, obviously enjoying the massage of his tense muscles. His eyes close for a moment and he straightens, a ghost of a smile curling his lips. "But that is a nice touch. You would have helped me? Really? So you actually feel for me, Pureal?" The tone is cold despite the words, drenched with a tinge of sarcasm.

Pureal's head tilts to the side slightly, "She is walking freely. Will she spend the next year in the dungeon?" She reaches over him to fill his glass further. "It does not matter what I feel for you My Prince, if harm came to you I do not know what would become of me. I need you." This she believes he would value more than any sentiment. She sets the bottle back down and her hand goes back to his neck. "I would have helped you."

"She is walking freely? What do you think? The guard by her side and the handmaiden are there for her own protection only?", the Onimus prince retorts. "She is a free woman, not a slave, still, that does not make what she has done weigh less in the opinion of my mother. I'm not sure what mother's plans are, regarding what's to become of her. Mistress Edris should have kept to what she does best - run the finest brothel of the Isle of the Crown. I know it is one of the finest." The soft sigh is followed by a smirk. Still. That would have been quite a long monologue, given he is not exactly talking to a slave? Pureal's explanation is met with a nod. "True."

Pureal contemplates his words and nods slightly, "Will her child disappear then as well? Like it never was?" She swallows a bit and then nods. "Will you go find your brother soon? Or will the Queen give in to the pirates?"

"Oh, that is what this is about? Disappearing children?" The mirth fades from Zephan's face as he turns his head to shoot Pureal another glance. "It does not happen. There /are/ no bastards of House Onimus. Does that answer your question?" His tone is slightly annoyed at her audacity. But he does not linger overly long on it, giving a curt nod to her next inquiry. "Aye. If Lady Adara fails to bring about any useful information I will question that pirate myself. I WILL leave by late morning with my ship. It has been prepared to be ready when I say so. No matter /what/ mother decides.", he adds with a low grumble, giving away his hatred for her. "I doubt she is even in the state to decide anything at the moment. Wouldn't surprise me if..." And here a rare smile conquers his mien. "...if she would not survive this night. She's old. She's getting soft. And with Nathan and Madalyn gone, that would open interesting possibilities..."

Pureal watches him for a long moment and then looks around the room. "I will pack your things." She says simply, leaving the first subject to the side because there ARE bastards of House Onimus, even if they're not allowed to be known. "Will we have to leave quickly if something happens to the Queen?"

Of course there are! But Zephan is not going to admit that as it is not what his mother would the world like to believe. "Fine," Zephan replies to Pureal's announcement of packing. "I expect to leave tomorrow, regardless of what happens to mother."

Pureal nods a bit and makes a mental note to pack her own things as well then. And anything valuable that is in the room. Or that she can get her hands on. "Of course." She leans down to press her lips lightly to his neck.

"Right now I'd like to rest," the prince continues, his eyes close for a moment. "But the guards have been told to wake me up when Lady Adara sends word about any new findings." If she would even bother. After all, the Zorich lady served his mother, not him. Zephan empties his glass and puts it down onto the table, the light shake of his head indicating he is done for now.

Pureal doesn't refill the glass given the shake. What she does do is crouch down and pull his boots off one at a time, setting them aside. She rises enough to reach for his belt to pull it off as well. After all these years there is no modesty left between them after all. She reaches for his shirt next to help pull it off of him. "My prince?"

Zephan is used to her helping him out of his attire. She is his slave after all, and supposed to help where she can. He will sit up, allowing Pureal to pull his shirt up over his head, before he moves to stand, his eyes staring into her direction but not really seeing her as his thoughts are engaged elsewhere. He will get out of his pants by himself though, a light cant of his head indicating for Pureal to move over onto the bed. He will follow soon himself, slipping under the blanket and hoping the chill there may already have faded due to the warmth of the woman awaiting him there.

Pureal rises and sheds her own scant clothes as she moves across the room and clambers into the bed, curling up there in his spot to keep it warm for him. AS he doesn't answer her she doesn't ask, instead she watches him, wishing she had convinced him to drink more, he's hardly enibreated enough for him to pass out hastily.

The prince has fallen silent now, as one arm is draped about Pureal's form to keep her close to him. He has had some wine over the course of the day and the evening, but for now he just lays there on his back, his eyes staring at the ceiling. He does not make any further advances on her than that, it seems Zephan is not in the mood today to use her the way he usually would. When matters of grave importance to the Isles and his family keep him engaged enough till sleep claims him, more than an hour later into the night.

Pureal curls up to him but there's no sleep for Pureal for a while, her thoughts on the pregnant red head, and her son, and the old queen. It's many hours before sleep claims her.