You're like an Indian summer
     In the middle of winter
     Like a hard candy
     With a surprise center
     How do I get better
     Once I've had the best...
     The song is running through her head - less her conscious mind, and more her subconscious. Who needs to listen to music when you've got a soundtrack following you? She's been lounging in the tub, letting the water get gradually tepid.
     Of course, that's about the only thing likely to get tepid around here, right now...
     "Baz?" Maddie calls out lazily, lifting one leg and letting it drop into the bath again with a little splash and spreading ripples. No answer. Hm. She remains there for a bit, then just as lazily she rises from the water. Venus couldn't do it any better than she does - the water parts, droplets rolling down the surface of her skin as it disburses her from the cool enameled depths.
     She doesn't bother with a towel. Towels are passe, right? Instead, she drags on a pair of boyshorts dreamily, eyes unfocused as she looks past her reflection, pulling on the pastel lavender of the shorts. They're low on her hips. To them she adds one of her boyfriend's shirts - an oversized one, off-white with a faint lemon tint, button-up, the sleeves unbuttoned and hanging down to the join of her thumbs, the rest of it unbuttoned. She looks at herself and smiles vaguely, shrugging as she pushes her hair back, then buttons two of the buttons to keep the cold air off her nipples.
     "Baz?" Maddie tries again. There's no sign of him in the bedroom. Her buttons aren't lined up right, but so what? It's enough to keep her from being exposed. Idly she wanders forward and then out of the suite, the hibiscus and honey scent of her underlaid by her own scent, the scent of Girl. Nobody's managed to market that yet.
     She pads down the marble hallway, in a cloud that doesn't seem ready to become diffuse, the pink of her painted toenails rendering her feet not just bare but naked. And she smiles to herself, humming as the wild, damp tendrils of her hair brush her shoulders. "Ready or not, here I come..."
     Who doesn't want to play Hide and Seek in an enormous castle, after all?

     Ready or not, here I come...
     It is the mating call of the Llewellyns, spoken in such a lovely, young female tone. Mellifluous. Charming. Delightful. It stops him in his tracks, and it causes him to reverse his dreamy, soft stride, backpedaling to the juncture of two hallways.
     Hibiscus. Honey.
     In his violets and blues, Gruffydd turns toward the voice and then sees the vision of a stunning, auburn-haired Aphrodite in a man's shirt (and, it appears, little else). Some people are just born lucky, he decides. He smiles. "May I help you?"
     The figure of this man is quite tall, several inches taller than golden Balthazar, and broad. There is some similarity of features that might be noticed. Eyebrow, shape of nose, line of jaw. And there is a universal, mathematical symmetry to his features that makes him... perfect. It's geometry, simply, and not vanity. His skin is a rich mocha, his hair black, and his eyes are a soft lavender. The color of them is all the more apparent due to his choice of clothing. He wears a violet pull-over shirt, layered thin cashmere, over navy leather.
     And his expression is serene, but in its serenity not lacking in warmth and even mild amusement.

     She slows but doesn't stop, allowing her head to loll back on her shoulders as she takes a few more steps. She coasts to a halt, a glimmer of a grin spreading and parting beestung lips as she looks up at you.
     "You're not It," Maddie decides, shaking her head a little. She purses her lips and allows her shoulders to relax back, clasping her hands behind her hips. "Hello, though. You look like you might know the road to Tipperary. What are you?"
     Inflection is everything. If she'd said 'what are you', it would have sounded hostile or querulous. 'What are you' would have been dismayed or horrified. As it is, it's cheerful and inquisitive in a lazy, laid-back sort of way. A stream could bubble up from the side of a mountain with much the same sound.
     Blue eyes regard you without so much as a cloud in sight. She stretches her arms up over her head, mmmm'ing agreeably. The shirt lifts a bit, cotton fluttering as her hair continues to have a life of its own. The warmth that emanates from her does so unchecked - and undiverted. "You're very tall," Maddie observes unnecessarily. "I suppose it's this palace. It encourages everybody to be bigger. Or just a bigger family. I thought my family was big, but not this big. Oh, is there anything to eat?"

     Dark eyebrows wander upward, gulls upon airdrifts of humor and curiosity. "Am I not? How disappointing for me," he offers with a smile. His mouth may seem familiar; it is a more blushed, ripe grape version of those you know so well. "I am a Gruffydd," he says (Griffith is how it sounds). Lavender eyes sparkle as he joins you. "It is a very large family, and some of us are larger than others."
     Gruffydd laughs genuinely, his dimples showing in the sudden grin. "My dear. Is there anything to eat? How long have you been here," he wonders in mock-seriousness. "Is there ...anything you'd like, especially?"
     How charming you are, really.
     Gruffydd offers you his arm. It is a polite gesture, courtly. "It appears we have both a desire for food and a large family in common. Care to join me....?"

     "Oh, I've been here all the time. Well, days, anyway. Three... four? I'm not sure," Maddie mulls it over. Her hips roll as she walks a few paces towards you, but she hardly pays attention to that. It's not unlike the rolling of waves towards a beach. "You kind of lose track of time here, don't you? It's timeless."
     She nods in satisfied agreement with her own pronouncement, holding out a hand to be shaken - except you have your arm out. It doesn't faze her in the slightest, and she adapts her stance to take your arm as it's offered. "You aren't It," Maddie agrees, "but that's okay. You can be your own It without being the It I'm looking for. What would I like, especially..."
     She mulls it over in her intoxicated state. It's a gentle form of intoxication - it barely shows at all. You couldn't possibly know. "I'd especially like coconut crab roasted over a fire on a beach, with lime juice and sugar cocktails," she tells you confidingly, "maybe with some pineapple and baked plantains. But that might be hard to get here. Are there strawberries and cream, maybe? Or apricot tarts?"
     She wanders on in this vein, looking up at you and then past you, peering as she looks for Balthazar in you and around you. "You look a little bit like It, or would if I weren't It right now. Maybe a ham sandwich. On pumpernickel with some goat cheese and dried cranberries, but it'd have to be Virginia ham, maybe with a maple glaze. - Oh, and peaches!" She sighs wistfully. "I love peaches, especially when they're ripe. I'm Maddie."
     Of course she is. Who else could she possibly be, with her auburn hair curling in damp and drying tendrils, snaking down her back as one shoulder drops in unconscious and unintended beguilement? Her lips curve into another ripening grin. There is Seduction worn as an air of perfume around her - and it is paired with recent ravishment and idle curiosity that is aimed evenly at everything in the room, including you.

     He smiles, beguiled -- and why not? Should one resist being charmed when faced with the utterly charming? -- and he leads you not toward the stair and points beyond but to one of the many hidden wonders, in this case a garden alcove with a single apple tree. There, laid out upon small, occasional tables and a rich blanket of silk threaded with gold are peaches (ripe and ready), lime juice and sugar cocktails, sandwiches made to order (made to wishes, more closely) and over a small brazier, coconut crab.
     "Yes, I thought you certainly must be Maddie," Gruffydd murmurs, smiling. "I've met your brother, Preston. And you have met my brother, Balthazar. Though," he grins as he gives you your arm back, "...met seems too small a word for you and what is happening. You are quite lovely. No wonder he is completely bewitched. Anymore time with you and I fear I shall be charmed into giving away entire kingdoms." He gestures for you to take a seat, to enjoy yourself and the concoction of your edible fantasies.
     "The Birth of Venus," Gruffydd says suddenly, grand peacock wings making themselves known, spreading with relaxation. "You remind me of the Botticelli painting." He shimmers in his own exotic grandeur, made more so by merely being in your shimmering presence. The peacock cannot help showing his wings for your attention and admiration. It is as unconscious as your own beguilement.

     She allows you to lead her, not docilely but with the aimlessness of someone who is very much on vacation. And her eyes light up to see the food. "Fabulous!" Maddie exclaims, breaking away to skip over to a chair. She sinks onto the edge of it, leaning forward to inhale deeply the scent of the crab. "Oh, god, that smells good." She almost moans it. She has an appreciation for food, to be sure...
     She turns to look at you, tucking a leg under herself and watching with an innocent admiration as your wings make themselves known. "Oooh, pretty. Do they do anything, the way Baz's wings do? At least they aren't on fire. I was on fire," she adds blithely, "last night. I don't seem to be now, though."

     Gruffydd smiles as he lounges on the grass, elbow to the soft sod, his hand propping up his head. "They do all manners of things," he blithely replies. "But... no, not fire. I'm not a sunny sort of creature like Balthazar." He takes a peach, splitting it in half with the grasp and pull of his hands. He tosses the pit to the grass for the birds to enjoy. Who knows, maybe a peach tree will grow here in your honor. "You look as though you are no worse for the wear of the fire," he offers with a serene expression, his mouth tugging slightly in an amused smile.
     "Please, help yourself," Gruffydd notes magnanimously. He eats the ripe peach like an apple, sipping at the juice as it spills. "How are you and he doing? And you... with all of ...this..." A peacock wing makes a motion as if to indicate they should be included in that all of this.
     Gruffydd smiles as he watches you. You are Love's muse, it seems. "You seem to be adjusting quite well... "

     "Well, you're just people," Maddie answers you with that matter of factness. She immediately reaches for the crab, salivating noticeably. "Why wouldn't I adjust? Okay, so the wings and stuff are a little weird, at least for where I come from..."
     It's hot, and she's distracted from talking to you by the need - or the perceived need - to take due care. "I think we're doing all right, except that he got up to get me my hairbrush and he never came back," Maddie adds. "So I went looking for him, but I found you instead. You said you've met Pres? How's he doing? I've barely seen him."
     There is a faint frisson of guilt there. Bad sister, wandering off in her lover's wake and neglecting her handicapped brother.

     "He seems to be doing well," Gruffydd murmurs. "I would not worry, Maddie. He is a strong, young man. And the shock of things seems to be wearing off." He pauses to bask as you do, though he does not spend anytime in your guilt. The peach half eaten, he looks to you. And he grins. "Perhaps he's lost. Wandering around the castle looking for you. I can imagine that," he drawls.
     Gruffydd takes another bite of peach, content to look and listen. "Do you know how to project your thoughts to him? He can hear you," Gruffydd notes. "That is probably the easiest way to find him. The way our family can be, it's quite possible he's been pulled into some meeting somewhere. But... you can always find him, I imagine. I would think he would be rather...focused on you."
     There is a smooth and resplendent smile that follows that as he finishes his peach.

     She pulls the crab apart with ruthless efficiency, freeing the meat from its imprisoning shell. Steam vents in puffs and blasts from the crackling gaps in exoskeletal material, eddying around her fingers as she selects choice bits of meat for her consumption.
     "I'm not too worried. Pres is the strongest of all of us," Maddie acknowledges, "even if he doesn't know it himself." She licks her fingers, then begins prying open more of the crab. Bits of shell are tossed into an approximate pile to one side. "He's just bad at grudges. He's very loyal, though."
     Maddie has by now left half the crab denuded of its flesh, devouring it neatly but hungrily and stacking the shell in unstable little groupings to the center of her side of the table. "I can try projecting, but after I eat. He's probably not looking for me - he might still be looking for my hairbrush, though. What about you? You're married, aren't you? Did you bring your wife? Won't she be looking for you?"
     It is asked in all innocence, with none of the coyness of the ingenue. But it all the same illuminates, reminds that you and she are, for the moment, alone in the garden, Adam and Eve.

     The sound of his laughter is full of knowing delight, conscious of his own awareness and amused by both it and your tone. Gruffydd relaxes on the grass, watching you devour the crab, your fingers unbothered by such matters as heat and fire. And he realizes, in that moment, that his food is little more than offered tribute to a fire goddess. It turns his smile to warm syrup and butter.
     "My wife will not be looking for me. She knows where to find me. It is difficult for me to hide. I tend not to bother with it. But I imagine she is far too busy with the matters of the kingdom left in her capable hands to trouble herself with thoughts of where I am in this moment and what I might be doing. If I were Balthazar, I would be scouring the castle, looking for you."
     He is content to watch you, grinning at himself and you as he does. You are pretty. He is captivated. And there is nothing whatsoever the matter with enjoying that. "Your brother is fully capable of a great many things," he says with some understanding, though he doesn't elaborate. "But he does seem to suffer from a lack of ... belief. I won't say faith; it has a negative connotation in the modern vernacular."
     What a beautiful sunny day. The apple tree, its green leaves stretched to enjoy summer fruiting, begins to bud again in your presence. "Perhaps you can ...enlighten me on why that is the case..."
     It is not a command. You will or you will not. He will get to enjoy watching you in any case. Stretched out on the lawn, the tree beginning to flower overhead, Gruffydd smiles. "What do you think of my little brother Balthazar? You know," his voice takes on a slightly teasing tone, "... I have known him all his life. I am a wealth of information on all things Balthazar. If you care to know..." Such coiling delight. He is Adam and The Serpent.

     "Well, some of it is just that the shark took a lot of him away from himself."
     She knows this and answers it promptly, sighing happily in the wake of the enormous crab's passage down her gullet. She picks up her drink, leaning back in her seat and observing you with candid curiosity and parted lips. She needs no artifice for her look to be enticing; it is enticing entirely on its own.
     "Baz will find me if he wants to," Maddie predicts with confidence. "It isn't as if I'm hiding. What do I think of him? I love him, of course! He's just not ready to be wise yet, but he'll get there. He's smarter than he thinks himself, but he's not very organized. It's probably why he liked my sister first. She's very organized and driven, and Baz kind of wanted to be able to coast, I think. But he's not going to get to coast much. It's not really his style or his nature."
     She takes a drink, crossing her legs so one elegantly golden-tanned calf is atop the other knee. "Pres is never satisfied, really. He's not as driven as Gilly but he's pretty driven, y'know? He needs to be needed, but then, who doesn't? But mostly it's mumsie's fault. You've heard about mumsie, haven't you? Our mother."

     He raises an eyebrow to your observations. He had truly only expected gossip but you actually have perspective. Gruffydd takes one of the lime and sugar cocktails as he considers you, considers what you say. "Balthazar is extremely bright." He smiles and reveals dimples, creating a naughty cherubic look. "Both literally and figuratively now. I'm not sure that one simply gets ready to be wise; I think wisdom is a muscle that is developed after a good deal of hard work. I agree that he will get there. He just needs to stop hiding his own brilliance. I think he compares himself to others too much, primarily me. He is sensitive and caring, that Balthazar. But you are right," he grins as he sips, "...he is not very organized. Ergo, his trek for your hairbrush. He is also frequently tardy, but he means well. His heart is always in the right place, even...sometimes...despite himself."
     Gruffydd's lavender eyes twinkle, his grand, peacock wings stretching and spreading. His feathers are as deft as hands. A feather may pick up even the daintiest item and bring it to him with serene grace. Like the cocktail that he now balances with it and brings to and from his lips. "We have curiously not spoken much of your mother and father. He has told me a little, of course. I am always amazed by tales of well-meaning, yet destructive parents. I am blessed, truly."

     A raven settles amid the blossoms on an apple bough, its dark talons gripping the wood with great affection. It settles royally, its head held high. It cocks this way and that way to look to each of the garden dwellers below. The inky black beak glistens in a moment's preening.

     "Mumsie's a bitch," Maddie shrugs with the same forthrightness as before. "She wants Pres to be president someday. Lawyer, then senator, then president. Gilly was supposed to be a senator's wife - high-powered, giving up a real career to support her husband's career and to produce perfect photogenic little brats. I don't think she ever really came up with plans for me, so I was lucky in that way."
     She sips her drink. Her voice is absent of vitriol; it's the honest truth is all. Her hair snakes around her face with her motion, writhing and settling again into sleepy coherence. "Pres is very loyal to his friends and even to his friends' friends, as long as he isn't given reason to be otherwise. It's just ... if you hurt him ... if he feels betrayed ... it just goes so deep, with him. He feels it and he wants to protect the people he cares about, and he can't. I think what happened - with his leg and all - it left him really feeling unable to take that role. I mean, I don't need protecting, you know? And I'm pretty sure Gilly doesn't either. But he's our brother, and I think it bugged him that he couldn't if he had to. So - he pulled away."
     She shrugs and takes a swallow of her drink. "Oh, this is good. I like this." Maddie smiles radiantly. Her leg drops, the other lifts, and she tips her chair back precariously with a laugh of pure delight. "You are blessed! I met your parents. They're nice! Though daddy is a dear when he can surface from his work, it keeps him submerged in more ways than one. Poor Pres, I think he feels he has to carry the torch, and Gilly - well, Gilly wants people to like her, but I think she's afraid they won't. So she keeps herself closed up in a tower and only comes down when it's important or when it's something she knows she can show off at."

     "Are you giving her truth serum, nephew? That's hardly polite." The dry tone issues from the blossoms and the raven transforms to an amused Aeron. Dressed in black -- black leather, painted on; black tee shirt devoid of markings and labels; black boots made for London alleys and shadows alike. His dark red hair is cut short. His eyes, mostly black, are the eclipse of a forest -- with emerald green apparent only on the edges of his irises. One arm is completely covered in tattoos of ravens and shadows and clouds and vines. He is handsome, built, and reserved.
     "Quite the picnic." He takes an apple from the tree, smirking as he bites into it.

     Gruffydd isn't surprised. Slowly he tips his head back to look upward to where his uncle now sits. Quietly amused, he looks to you. "Madison West... this is Aeron ap Davydd. Balthazar's uncle, and mine, though he is a year younger than I." He sips at his drink. "I should think your mother will be satisfied with Pres taking a formal role at a high level of government." He smirks. "Of course, she cannot know, and would not understand, that he is the attache to the next High King of the Otherworld. Pluto's Lieutenant, if you will." He chuckles at the notion. "Well...often what parents wish is out of alignment with what their children wish, and even times what the universe has in mind. What I hope you all realize, but Preston and Gillian especially, is that it is their wishes that count. No one else's. I have had many conversations with Preston on this very topic. He will hear me." He smiles. "Eventually. Uncle," he looks back up to Aeron in the tree. "Have you met Balthazar's ...special someone?"

     Aeron makes himself comfortable against the trunk of the tree, his gaze upon the girl. She is pretty. She is a fireball. A meteor. The burning heart. "I have not, not formally. I have seen more of her sister than her. More of her friend, Loki, than anyone. So where is nephew fireball?" Aeron trails out lazily. He looks to Madison, smiling to her. He can't help it. She seems to inspire it. "Recovering?"

     She tilts her head to one side, looking at Aeron curiously. "Hello. You were a bird a minute ago, weren't you? Can you do that for any shape?" She is, after all, direct. Her grin is wide, blazing as bright as the sun, and as spreading as dandelions gone to seed. "You should try some of the drink. It's really good!"
     She looks between you both, running her fingers through her hair, which coils but does not snarl and falls against her shoulder with a bounce a moment later. "Pres is better at listening than Gilly is. But he's worse, in some ways, at believing what he hears. He's suspicious of lies, you see, and if he thinks someone's lied to him..."
     She lets it trail off with a shrug. It's too negative. Aeron gets beamed at again, because why not? He is there. "He went looking for my hairbrush and I haven't seen him since. I hope he didn't go all the way to Boston for it!" Maddie laughs. "Did he tell you guys about Hawaii?"

     Why do I keep smiling? I don't even like girls. Aeron looks a little bemused but he is benevolently gracious with his slim grin. "I can become anything and Nothing." Case in point, a floating hummingbird and then invisible before he becomes himself again, leaning against the trunk of the tree, now at the base of it between you and Gruffydd. "Being Nothing beats anything," he mentions to her. "I can peer and appear most anywhere I wish. I take all the fun out of birthdays and Christmas."

     Gruffydd smiles to his uncle, chuckling a little. You are ...dare I say it? ... charming? But he cannot look from Maddie for too long. She's just so pleasant to look upon, after all. "Balthazar ... is rather private when it comes to his own matters. He's told us precious little."

     With curling lips, the half-eaten apple held like Yoric's skull, Aeron glances from his nephew to Madison West. "He knows the value of information and the value of a gem in a family full of thieves and spies." He pauses. "Mostly that's just me, of course. So... what happened in Hawaii? Do tell..." He takes another bit of the apple, enjoying its sweetness (and its intoxication).

     Gruffydd smirks. "I have only heard reports of the surfing." He settles in for some choice gossip, smiling and waving for you to continue as he watches you, basks in you, and in the sweetness of the cocktail.

     Aeron is also basking, giving his weight to the tree, his attention to you. Anyone just passing by would think these boys were besotted...

     She goes pink, blushing like any rose when she is asked what happened in Hawaii. It's not too hard to fit the pieces together. "Well, mostly we surfed, of course. I got Baz set up with a board and so on, and taught him how. Loki and I danced - I do love dancing, y'know, it's just a lot of fun. We just had a good time. Hawaii's one of the most beautiful places anywhere, so I end up sounding like a one-woman tourist board."
     She laughs; she can't help it. Can anyone really picture her as a tourist agent? Eyes sparkling, she catches up her glass in both hands, rolling it between her palms and letting her feet fall to the edge of the chair. "Now that's a neat trick," she tells Aeron, clearly admiring and impressed. "You could totally go all Kris Angel if you wanted, but I bet you wouldn't. It wouldn't be as much fun if people were around to poke at how you do it, right? But now I'm going to have to find a way to surprise you at your birthday. When is it, anyway? Both of you. I need to know people's birthdays if I'm going to get them presents!"
     Her drink is almost finished. She leans forward until her chair thuds its two reared feet down to the earth, and she reaches to grab for herself a sandwich. "Do you guys dance too? If not, maybe Loki and I should put on a show. But I think Baz would have a fit if we did another paso doble. Maybe a tango would be okay." She makes a face. "Paso doble's more fun. It has more heart, more spirit, even if it's in a totally messed-up kinda way. But I'm talking about me too much - what about you two? What do you guys do for fun?"

     They are both staring at you. They could totally picture you as a travel agent. They can even picture going to places that you suggest without much question as to why...
     For a moment, Aeron sits in stunned silence. What do I do for fun? "Sex," he says simply. "Sex... theft...spying...I love what I do. They say you should always turn your hobbies into a career..."
     Gruffydd grins, dimples flaring. "Sex. Sailing. I command a navy. Or I did when I was a mere prince and not a Regent. I miss that," he notes quietly. "I create things. I make oceans out of starry skies. I do enjoy that. Balthazar does have a bit of a jealous streak. But it should not keep you from dancing, Madison, if that is what you wish to do. And my birthday... hmm... Time is a little funny for us. But I think the date is November fifth. I think we calculated it out once. November 5th earth-time."
     Aeron looks momentarily horrified. "I do not dance." He tosses the apple core into the air. It disappears. In his hands there appears a crystal goblet full of a dark wine. It is fragrant, spiced. Fig brandy. "I was born in the late fall, before December. I believe it may be October thirty-first. Sometime before December. I don't pay much attention to time. I have heard of the volcanos of Hawaii. I would like to see them. I'm not much for beaches and sun."

     She blushes again, as both of you toss off the mention of sex the way other people do sport. She is American. She might have sex. Talking about it nonchalantly? Not so much. Not yet. If ever. "I know how to sail," Maddie chimes in gratefully. "We all do. Daddy's a marine biologist, you see - we all grew up on and around boats. Granddad's a naval architect."
     She is proud of her family, and pleased, and it shows up in her voice. She isn't bragging - there is no my daddy can beat up your daddy! - but she is proud of them, and happy. And happiness is, in its own way, an aphrodisiac.
     Though perhaps no more so than her scent, the headiness of honey and hibiscus and Girl. It is a scent which older, more knowing women, would delve into by a touch and then dabbing to the inside of an elbow, behind an ear, between the breasts, to drive men mad. She has done no such thing - but does she really need to?
     "The volcanos are fun, but you should at least try surfing," Maddie cajoles Aeron. "Think of it as a new secret to be explored - there's things you can only see when you surf, that you can't see or experience any other way. The way the wave curls over, it rolls and you shoot through the tube of it - it's like passing for a minute through to somewhere else, that you can only visit for a few heartbeats before you have to come back down to reality. Though I guess that's not as exciting for you guys, huh." She laughs. You are, after all, both of you, from another world. So maybe it is less a glimpse of Heaven for you than it is for her. "I'll remember your birthdays, or try to. And I'll try to surprise you for them. As for dancing, I promised Baz I wouldn't paso doble with Loki, so I won't. He relented right away, of course, but I know he's not really comfortable with it. But he's not comfortable doing the paso doble himself. So I guess I'm kinda stuck, there. Oh, I know!"
     She jumps in her seat, sitting upright and shaking her hair back with glorious, blazing Summer in her laugh. "We should plan a trip to Hawaii! So you guys can see it firsthand! We totally should. How about September?"

     Plan a trip?
     Aeron actually laughs. It is such a foreign sound to Gruffydd's ears that he actually sits up to witness it. It is a once in a century sort of occurrence. Like the rarest of blossoming plants. It is a fleeting thing, his quiet laughter, but it lingers in the amusement that tinges his otherwise bland expression. "We do not need to plan a trip. We simply make it happen. We could go now... or in five minutes...or tomorrow...or ...whenever you wish," Aeron simply explains. "No planes. No taxis. No waiting. You'll never have to stand in line again."
     Gruffydd is still shocked at hearing Aeron's laughter. He gives him a second look, but then his eyes are on Madison again. "I think you should dance the paso doble. I will not tolerate my little brother repressing your desires and creativity. No... he knows better, Madison. And if he is too shy or self-conscious to dance it with you, then that is his issue and his decision. Ask him again," Gruffydd smiles warmly, "I imagine he will relent to learn. You are Persuasion itself, my dear. I cannot imagine the man who could deny you. You even made Aeron giggle. Do you know how utterly impossible that is to do? It is a once in a lifetime occurrence."
     Aeron glances to his nephew, his expression put upon and droll. "I will leave the surfing to you and Balthazar. I am not much of a swimmer. I don't really like the sea. I prefer skydiving, personally. Base jumping. Of course," he sips at his drink, "I cheat. So... what is the paso doble and why does my nephew fear it so much?"

     "Oh, I've been teaching him how to tango! But the paso doble's a special case. You have to have a certain ... attitude. Baz doesn't, or not that I've found so far. Hold on, I'll try to - to sum up what it is."
     Maddie jumps to her feet. She isn't in dancing clothes, of course; she is, in fact, in very little. But she is lithe and moves with the agility of a cat, skipping forward a few paces and pulling herself sharply upright, one hand stretching loosely for the sky, palm up, her other arm folded behind her head. Her hip thrusts out as she straightens with a sinuous, sexual arrogance that is at once an invitation and a challenge to any man watching.
     Flashing eyes, and merry, mirthful, mischievous, knowing smile, her hair lifting and flowing with her movements so that she seems limned with flame...
     And drops back into herself with a cheerful laugh as she moves back to her chair, draping herself into it and picking up her sandwich. "Baz is a sweetie, y'know? But he isn't angry or screwed up in a paso doble kind of way. As for Hawaii, I don't know - sometimes it's good to plan things, isn't it? Then you get twice the fun. The anticipation of getting there, and then when you actually get there. Don't you ever hold back from what you really want for a little while, so that when you get to have it, it's even better?"

     The answer comes in unison: "No."
     For one, it is said with simple, unadorned fact: a knowledge of himself and his desires. For the other, it is tinged very much with: Why would anyone do that?
     One is honest...
     The Other is not.
     Aeron pauses upon his answer, his head resting against the trunk of the apple tree. "I do not, with most things. Why wait, why play with pretense when you can simply have what you want, when you want it? But... with certain things.... with certain people...I have been known to hold my indulgence for greater reward at another time. But for such things as travel? I see no reason to put off what one wants in order to create excitement."
     Aeron blinks at himself. Honesty is uncomfortable. She turns my tongue into Cleopatra's carpet.. It unrolls for her and gives up its treasure.
     "I can see what you mean," Gruffydd mulls out, his gaze taking a moment to delight in you, your motion, your laughter, your light. "Balthazar is not sexually aggressive. Even when strolling the castle naked, there is nothing ...suggestive about him. He simply Is and without shame or illicit. He is too... sunny in disposition for that. But perhaps there is a way to approach it, Madison... non-traditionally. Tell him it's foreplay," he grins. "He'll do it then."
     Aeron tries hard to maintain a bland expression, his dark red eyebrows jutting upward. "Perhaps try it horizontally first," he suggests blithely. "I am certain he has no issue with that..."

     The apple tree explodes in blossoms, fragrant white flowers dripping down to the ground to the astonishment of Aeron and Gruffydd. The air becomes honeyed, that fragrance of cinnamon and honey mixing now with the hibiscus. There is an audible sigh made by the castle, the tree, the grass, the air, as Balthazar comes into view.
     He is naked apart from a thin layer of crimson silk. A hairbrush dangles from his fingertips and he wanders as if drunk or lost or both. Behind him streams his fiery wings, his hair golden amber in his transformation.
     His beautiful face is ecstatic in expression, becoming more so as he spies Maddie on the grass. Balthazar smiles, not noticing his uncle and brother at the moment. "I found it," he murmurs, twirling the brush in an intoxicated hand.

     "It isn't that it creates excitement. It's more that it gives the excitement an edge." Maddie juts her hip back the other way in her seat, taking a huge bite out of her sandwich blithely and chewing, then swallowing. "It's like working up an appetite before dinner, more. It makes everything taste better."
     She looks at both of the men with a ready smile, crossing her legs over each other and twining in her seat, leaning back so that her head lolls, hair streaming back down the back of the chair. "I'll try. Barring that, I'll ask him if he'll let me do it with Loki again. He might not mind as long as he doesn't have to watch."
     And then there is something in the air - before her blush at talk of doing it horizontally can fade. "Baz!" She is up and out of her chair, rocketing across to hurl herself through the air at her boyfriend, beaming with joyful revelation and welcome. "You found me. That's more important, isn't it? Catch!"

     Gruffydd rolls on his back and Aeron tucks and rolls to use the apple tree as a shield as great fiery wings cup forward to embrace (and brace) the leaping girl. There is a passing of looks from black-green eyes to lavender. She is a fire spirit and he is the sun, Aeron conveys to his nephew. Together... one wonders if the world will supernova in their ecstasy...or merely burn.
     Balthazar arms and wings both catch, his warm body there as her anchor, solid and strong. He holds her and he kisses her good morning. "I am out of my head today," he murmurs to her, setting her feet to the grass. "I was wandering around the castle... I left my pants somewhere, I think I frightened the second floor maids," he smiles lopsided, lazy. "Father found me these. They're unbearable," he whispers to her, his last syllable a roll of his tongue into another kiss.
     There is a soft clearing of a throat...
     Parting from the kiss, Balthazar turns his head toward the sound, seeing his brother and his uncle Aeron hitting the deck of grass to miss the orgasmic glance of a wing (talk about awkward). "Oh.... sorry," he murmurs, his hand sliding along Maddie's side. He looks to her, wearing one of his shirts. "You're having a picnic... I am hungry," Balthazar notes. "I like this," he speaks intimately to her, his voice a warm hush as he toys with his shirt that she wears like a gown.
     "Nephew," Aeron drolls out. She is a star, the same as you, nephew. Did you know that all this while?
     "Would you mind tucking your wings in a bit, brother," Gruffydd wonders, smirking with his full berried mouth. "While I am happy to show my appreciation at seeing you, I should rather do so a bit less awkwardly than climaxing."
     "Oh..." Balthazar says, his solar flare wings pulled in toward him. He wears a somewhat pained look. It is not ...really pain. It is the opposite of pain, in fact, but to such an intense level that...really...it is hard to tell the difference. "

     "Poor thing," Maddie coos to her boyfriend, kissing him and twining her arms around her neck. "Well, we'll get you out of them later, right? But first, you need to sit and eat."
     She does not let go she tugs him firmly but gently (gently but firmly) towards her hitherto abandoned chair, nudging him to sit so that she can take his lap as her rightful throne. "We had coconut crab, and there's ham sandwiches, and peaches," Maddie tells Balthazar, "and lime and sugar cocktails, and other stuff. I've been trying to talk Aeron and Gruffydd into a trip to Hawaii. Don't you think they'd like Hawaii? We could all stay at the resort again! Oh, and I was telling them about the dancing."
     She tugs lightly on his hair, then reaches for the hairbrush and his hand, putting the one in the other. "Brush my hair and I'll get you a sandwich. Gruffydd, is there any more crab?" Blue eyes turn up to the Crown Prince hopefully. She asides again to Balthazar, "I was telling them a little bit about Hawaii, and about my family."

     She is the potion and the antidote. it is quite clear that, though she is the one who inspires him and arouses him to honeyed, erotic fervor, her touch is all that stills him, that brings him comfort. She can walk on coals. She can put her hand in a burning brazier. She can touch him all without the Agony and Ecstasy that others would surely suffer.
     Balthazar is comforted by the kiss, steadied by her enfolding grasp. He glides back to the chair, falling into it easily with the slightest of nudges on her part. The sprawl is instantaneous. The red silk collapses against his skin, airily upon his muscled form, pooling against his lap. He turns his golden head to look at his brother and his uncle, his lazy, intoxicated gaze the very definition of summer. He blinks at them and out of his own arousal he peers at their expressions. They are as entranced as he.
     I did not know it, no, not fully. She does not need me to do this. This, is all her. She smells so good...
     Balthazar drags his gaze back to the girl in his lap. He smiles. "I think they will have a hard time telling you no. You are very persuasive. You snap your fingers, and I think this world of men will hurry to your side. I will be first in line." He takes the brush, taking her hair in his gentle grasp. He begins to smooth it, brushing slowly in long, luxurious strokes.
     Gruffydd blinks, and as dark lashes lift, food and drink are refreshed. New crab appears in the brazier, new drinks on the tables and in his own hands. Balthazar is brushing her hair. He feels the sudden urge to oil her feet and paint her toenails. He smiles to himself. "She is very persuasive. Aeron was explaining how travel plans are not really necessary. However, Madison," he gently speaks to her, "...if you wish the experience of travel, might I suggest the High King's tall ship. We can sail from the Capitol City and be in your Hawaii faster than traditional air travel. And it is far more opulent and relaxing."
     What is wrong with me? Why does all of this suddenly sound like a really good idea? I hate boats. And I don't like girls. Gwilym... His thoughts trail upward, outward. I think I'm getting a fever. I'm actually entertaining a family vacation. I'm... smiling... and ... laughing. I think there's something seriously the matter with me. Maybe I have the dropsies. Or avian flu.
     Aeron takes up another of the full and ripe apples from the apple tree -- the tree that had not a blossom on it when he first appeared. Now there are blossoms and fruit and the swarming of honey bees. He relaxes against the trunk of the tree, glancing to Gruffydd. "I can't believe I'm saying this," he murrs, "...but that actually sounds entertaining. Maybe it's the apples," he whispers to Gruffydd.
     "Maybe," Gruffydd grins to him, tilting his head back. "Why are you eating those. You know how it makes you..."
     "I don't know," Aeron intones, "...but I blame them...."
     "Dancing?" Balthazar says to Maddie, his words near her ear. "Were you telling them how badly I dance. I can do Indian dances. My tango is not so bad, I do not think. You are an excellent dancer," he kisses her lightly, a tease of a taste.

     Her eyes close and she wriggles slightly, almost purring as the brush moves through her hair. "Oh, that's nice," Maddie tells Balthazar approvingly, settling contentedly upon his lap. She reaches for the brazier, dragging it closer to herself and beginning to rend the crab's shell with the calm yet eager assuredness of someone with quite a lot of practice at it. In little time at all there is a growing mound of sweetened crab flesh, the flesh of crabs that have known no finer food than newly fallen coconuts.
     "Ooh, a tall ship? Pres would love that. You know, he considered briefly the idea of joining the Coast Guard so he could try for a berth on their training ship? He couldn't, though, of course. But he loves ships, and sailing, and - well, all of that." Maddie beams at all three men indiscriminately. "Fishing, too. It sounds like a wonderful idea. It will make a wonderful arrival, too, as long as you don't mind that the berthing will be a bit pricey."
     She lifts an almost whole lump of claw meat to Balthazar's lips, giving him a look of pure adoration. It sizzles, molten honey and glee in that look. "September, then? It gives everybody time to wrap up anything they're in the middle of. We can have some kind of party. Though," she makes a face, "I suppose we should invite mumsie. But then, I imagine all you guys would be great at dodging her. Especially you, Aeron." She grins at him, inviting him to join in her sport.
     "You dance the tango divinely, Baz," Maddie coos to her boyfriend, kissing his jaw. "But no, I was telling them about the paso doble I did with Loki. I did promise you I wouldn't do it again, remember?"

     Laughing and smiling and having a good time? Perish the thought, comes the droll response from Gwilym Gwyn Garu. As long as you aren't feeling the urge to kidnap her for your own. Both your nephew and I might be upset if you did that, for reasons of our own...
     Sommat going on I ought know about?

     Duw, no. Not I. What would I do with a shimmering, sensual girl-thing? Apart from look at her all day? She is ... maybe you should experience it yourself. Perhaps she should be kidnapped, though not by me, to save our nephew from the peril of her persuasiveness. Although, he doesn't seem to mind the peril...
     I think you should see it... to believe it. And I would like to see you. Aeron looks to his own thoughts a moment, letting the conversation roll over him a moment. I love you. He is swimming on his own intoxication now, his heart filled with sentimentality. Aeron's black-green eyes lift to see Maddie feeding Balthazar. I want to be fed like that... The yearning fills him and then he gapes at it, slightly horrified by his own longing.
     Gruffydd smiles; it is a tender, dark thing, a violet blooming at midnight. "I have every intention of encouraging Preston's love of tall ships. While his future is his to determine, I would like it if he would command exploration and discovery, as I once did before I became King-to-Be. We will see. As for the specifics of a trip, we have months to speak of it and to plan. I would suggest not inviting the parents, actually. We do want to have a good time, don't we? We can save our 'mumsie dodging' expertise for more serious fare."
     Balthazar blows upon the crab just a little and then sucks it from her fingertips, his full mouth lingering around her fingers. There is a honeyed flavor for his coconut crab. "I do not know about divine," he smiles to her, his amber eyes roiling in the warmth of his look. They are two suns beaming, twin stars. She is in their orbit, alone. "I told you, you should do the dance if you want to dance it," Balthazar softly insists. "I don't want you to not do something you love because of me. I know you love me. I trust you. And if he kisses you, then I will deck him," he begins to laugh.
     "Spoken like a true gentleman," Gruffydd purrs out.
     Balthazar brushes her hair back, the auburn silky from his ministrations, burnished and bright. "When you drag your hands against him and throw your leg over his shoulder, you will be thinking of me, right?"
     "Maybe you should get over your self-consciousness, nephew, and learn this dance," Aeron rolls out, head tipping back to rest against the trunk of the tree. He takes another bite of apple. "You cannot be serious about being intimidated by it. How could it be more intimidating than memorizing the Kama Sutra?"

     You're drunk. Gwilym is half-scandalized and laughing. He has never heard you like this. All right, all right, I'll come by - give me half a mo, oes? I'll be there in short order. Where's Bran? Why aren't you exposing him to this horror of horrors? Anyway, girls do make entertainin' noises, you know, when you plunge into them. Though I wouldn't recommend stealing this one.

     She smiles at her beloved, taking a piece of crab for herself, and then following with a stolen bite of peach. "It won't be the same if it isn't with you. It's a shame neither of you know the paso doble. Or do you?" Maddie's eyes light up as she looks appealingly to Gruffydd and Aeron. "If you do I could demonstrate. Does anybody in this family dance the paso doble?"

     Aeron's pale complexion becomes scarlet. He would blossom purple if he did not have the composure he has. Years of training in shadows and stealth keep it just this side of crimson. He doesn't bother countering in his silent argument. He is drunk. And without a single drink to pass his lips.
     I haven't the slightest. I expect he's trying to convince his girl to give him the time of day. He's engaged. They are doing whatever it is engaged people do. He wrinkles his nose in horror. I know. I lost my virginity in a brothel, remember? In a brothel orgy, no less. I just... find the whole thing rather undignified and distasteful.
     You know you have him when he twists and throws a punch...
     Gruffydd glances to Aeron, who is blushing like mad at who-knows-what. What's the matter with you?
     "I don't dance," Aeron braces himself against the tree. But his stubbornness is mollified, immediately, when he looks at the radiant woman perched on the Seat of Love (otherwise known as the lap of his nephew). "I'm sure it is impressive." He looks to the tree, holding his hand out for another apple. I'm sure it is impressive??
     Chuckling, Gruffydd remains sprawled out and reclined. He smiles gently to her, indulgently even. "I do not do that dance. I think, of all of us apart from my grandfather, that I am the best dancer. But... I think it is Balthazar himself who should place himself in your ...very lovely and very capable hands. Do not let him avoid what he fears, Madison. Sometimes you must prod him, remember, to remind him that he is brilliant and to step out of his exile and into the sun."
     Balthazar looks to Maddie, sweeping back her hair with a stroke of the brush, to reveal her slender neck. He sees her, in her beauty and love and exuberance. What can he deny her? "Alright," he says, blushing into a smile, "... I will try. In a while....right now, I am comfortable. Tonight, I promise," he murmurs to her. "And maybe I will let you open a birthday present early."
     He tilts his head, watching her hair as he brushes it. You are so beautiful. Balthazar kisses the peach juice from her lips, glancing to see where they are. "Some of that, please," he asks of her. "A little more crab and some peaches." His hands are full, after all.

     I do have to come see this...
     Gwilym goes silent, finishing up whatever it is he was doing. No doubt he'll be there shortly, much to Aeron's dismay and delight.

     "It's very impressive," Maddie agrees with a delighted grin. She kisses Balthazar's cheek emphatically. "All right, I won't make you do it right this instant, but tonight, definitely. After I do the Click Song." She runs her fingers through his hair and down his back where his wings ordinarily would be. "Here," she tells him, lifting a peach to his lips, melding her body against his side. "They're very sweet."
     She turns her head with a gamine grin to Aeron and Gruffydd. "You should do the paso doble, though. If you're a good dancer, especially. But I don't mind making Baz do it, if he's willing. Is there anything on the agenda for today, though?"

     She's so pretty...
     It's a thought that runs through the garden from man to man to man. One (Aeron) is leaning against the body of a tree, looking at her as she feeds and nestles up to another (Balthazar), whose eyes are partially closed at the touch of her fingers to his scalp. His mouth parts, surrounding the juicy sweetness of the peach in her fingers. And the other (Gruffydd) watches it all, a complicit voyeur, delighting and basking in the energy that all four are creating both consciously and subconsciously.
     "They remind me of you," Balthazar murmurs to her, her hairbrush set aside on their joined laps. As she melds into his side, he accepts her in his grasp, drawing her even nearer. "It is my favorite fruit now," he whispers in her ear. "Hmm... the songs are tomorrow, oes? I think today is a rest day," one of Balthazar's thighs moves back and forth in his sprawl. "We can do whatever you like. We can go swimming in the river..."
     "That would be nice," Aeron mentions, then goes crimson again. Was that out loud? "The weather is good, I mean," he sighs. The backpedaling is pointless, he knows. What's done is done. He takes another bite of the apple, sighing at the sweetness. His head is fuzzy. He wish his tongue were. At least he would only make a fool of himself to himself. and not to an audience.
     Gruffydd grins, tipping his head back to look to Aeron. "I thought you didn't like water, Aeron..."
     Aeron gives Gruffydd a LOOK, but his eyes are captivated by what's happening in the chair. I want that... to be held like that... He sighs softly, to himself. He hopes. "I don't mind it so much on a hot day. I just don't like sailing. I prefer flying. But... you know... wading never hurt anyone..."
     Aeron's head thuds on the tree truck three times as he knocks it. Why do I keep doing that?
     Those fiery wings, living beneath his skin in the power that swims there, seem to make him glow a burnished bronze. The skin of his stomach, muscled flesh, shimmers with golden honeydust. "We can dance by the river, if you want... what do you want to do with your day? I do not know if I am... capable of being in public," Balthazar mentions quietly to her. His golden eyes are fixed upon the buttons of the shirt she wears.
     He's not the only one...

     "There's a river? You didn't tell me there was a river!" Her delight is complete. "There aren't leeches, are there? If there's no leeches, I'll totally go swimming in the river. I'll go get my suit and we can go whenever you're done eating."
     Her hair is misbehaving as always; even though it's been brushed a bit, it springs back to life, bouncing with her motions to form unruly curls and ringlets at her cheeks and the nape of her neck. One curl dangles precipitately on her forehead, stubbornly refusing to conform.
     "Then it's settled," Maddie says firmly, enjoyment glimmering in the blue of her eyes. "We'll go swimming in the river and make a real picnic of it, and before we eat we can dance. That's not public, after all. And after we eat, we can take a nap in the sun and just relax. Everybody should have days like that from time to time, and why not today?"

     "Did someone mention a picnic?" Gwilym drawls the words - of course he hears food mentioned on his entry. He grins as he makes his appearance, dressed comfortably down in a pair of jeans and a cream-colored shirt of Egyptian cotton, buttoned to hide his skin from the unforgiving sun. One eyebrow crooks up as he takes in the tableaux - brother against the apple tree (which is in bloom), nephew in voyeuristic delight, other nephew under a girl - but he mercifully doesn't comment. Yet. "You look cozy, oes? Where's the party?"
     You shouldn't bang your head on trees, Aeron, Gwilym tells his brother-lover. Mum wouldn't be happy if you kill her trees...

     It looks like some rococo painting of outdoor pleasures...
     The banging stops upon Gwilym's arrival, and black-green eyes shine up to him beneath and between the apple blossoms, some of the white flowers stuck in his dark-red hair. For a moment, he forgets that there are several other witnesses in here and who knows who all else might have access to this copse in this moment. He tosses the apple to the shadows, letting it roll to feed the creatures there as he rolls his head against the bark to look at Gwilym -- and only him.
     You are so handsome, he thinks it, thrums with it as he releases a breath. Aeron looks to the others suddenly, a touch of red to his face as if they could hear him being sentimental and... romantic. It's mortifying. He glances to the others to see if they can see it, his gaze frequently returning to the object of his own desire.
     "The party is in here, I think. Though it seems we are about to relocate ourselves?" Gruffydd wonders serenely. He grins at Balthazar and Madison. "Or maybe we weren't invited to that." He glances to Aeron, smirking, then to Gwilym. "We have coconut crab, lime and sugar cocktails, there are sandwiches, ripe peaches which apparently are Balthazar's new favorite fruit..."
     He can't even finish that. Gruffydd chuckles with dark delight, wicked in his humor and understanding. Yes, he can just imagine.
     Balthazar smiles to Maddie, "You are already in your suit. It is a private river." His thoughts and murmurs are interrupted by Gwilym's arrival. He twists in his seat, turning his head to look at his uncle. "Uncle Gwilym... have you met Maddie? Maddie," he says sweetly to her, doting even, "...this is my uncle Gwilym. We love him very much."
     "Yes," Aeron says without a hint of ruefulness. Yes we do...

     He is handsome, though he has no real awareness of how good he really looks. He is casual, today, hair curling over his one eye, the other emerald-bright and observant. He grins at Aeron, then turns his attention quickly to the other members of his family. "Met, no. Heard of, oes. How do you do, Maddie? Charmed. I'd shake, but," his grin is a riot full of beer bottles and mischief aforethought and overturned police cars, "I'm not keen on coming into direct contact with my nephew, here."
     What's gotten int' you? She's a pretty lass, I agree, but you act half in love with her yourself. It amuses him to tweak you wickedly over it, without remorse or shame. Getting hard for her? Better make her keep Balthazar's shirt on, then...

     "I'm not going to skinnydip as the only girl!" She's very firm on that point, tugging lightly on one of the roots of Balthazar's wings, even though they are not extended. "Nice try, brute."
     She laughs and kisses him a moment later, head tilted so that it is obvious for the moment he is the only man in the world. Eyelashes lower against her cheeks and she murmurs sweet nothings into his ear before her hands free his shoulders for her to sit up, the shirt shifting over the rounds of her breasts. "Of course you're all invited. Silly. But I'll need to change into my swimsuit." She's very firm about that. "Especially since nobody's said if there's leeches. Hello, Uncle Gwilym. Can I call you that, even if I'm not a part of the family? You should try the crab, it's amazing. Thanks, Gruffydd, for that!"

     I begin to see why you're so drunk, Gwilym mulls. There's a certain temptation to bouncing her on your lap while she calls you uncle, isn't there...
     Out loud, he answers expansively. "'Course you may. We're happy to have you with us, Madison. Crab?" He grins with vulpine humor. "Food's always a good way to make one's way in this family. Should we let the others know, then?"

     So sensitive. The needles make him twitch, ticklish and prickly. Aeron glances at Gwilym as he makes small-talk with the others. I am not hard for a girl. I don't like girls. She's... just... it's the apples, he suddenly retorts. I'm hard for the apples.
     There, that's done then.
     "I think the water is too swift for leeches," Balthazar murmurs, his head turning into her whispered words. He grins at whatever is said, his smile lingering on thoughts of skinny-dipping. He had to ask. There is a moment of lowered lashes and parted lips in a warm kiss. It is so easy to forget about the rest of the audience when the heroine is looking at him that way. "Okay," he says, "...go change... I will miss you." Balthazar's eyes wander from her face again as she sits up and as the shirt slides against her in all the best ways.
     "Well, good then. I accept." Gruffydd sits up, just enough to lean back upon his hands, his legs stretched out long and relaxed. "I'll send a message via the servants to the others. They can join if they wish." He also notices Madison's shirt. Who couldn't? So delightful, really. Such beauty. Such charm. Such... .energy and exuberance. Gruffydd smiles and he looks over to a far more reserved Aeron -- nice act, uncle, isn't working. "You've gotten rather quiet all of a sudden..."
     Do you want to bounce her on your lap? So you are telling me that you do not feel ...that. Five minutes in the room with her and I became a sentimental, lovesick mess. Aeron glances to Gruffydd, shrugging a little, and somewhat defensively. "I am the strong, silent type, nephew."
     Balthazar rolls his head against the back of the chair, turning to look somewhere other than Maddie for the moment. His attention lands on Gwilym. He smiles. "Am I never going to get a hug again? A slap to the back of the head? That's sad."

     Hard for apples. I see, oes. Gwilym's needling is not too vicious. Everything seems to soften a little, around Maddie and Balthazar. His smirk is even fairly good-natured. I feel the pull, oes, but I don't feel like acting on it. She is cute. But 'cute' does not leave me feeling full and satisfied. I like my meals to have more bite.

     "I'll go change," Maddie agrees, hugging Balthazar protectively for a moment before sliding from his lap. "I'll meet you guys all back here, right? Unless you want to come with me so you can change too, Baz."
     The flutter of eyelashes at her boyfriend isn't really intentional. It just comes naturally. She turns with a radiant smile to the others, and skips towards the castle.

     His fingers tug on his bottom lip a moment and through a smile. Balthazar shakes his head a little. "No, that's alright. If I go back with you, that will be the last anyone sees us for the day. We'll wait here." He knows himself. And you. "I'll just swim in what God gave me." And he watches her skip out of the hidden garden tucked in this out of the way courtyard, her shirt (his shirt) fluttering up and down in the motion.
     I want to be adored by the one I love. And I don't say it. I am not good at admitting things. But right now... it comes easily. It is confusing and a little frightening. Aeron sits up, transforming into a raven and sitting on Gwilym's shoulder. I don't want her.... she just... makes me realize how much I want you. Her..him...whichever of them's to blame.
     Gruffydd also watches Madison ...bound and bounce from the garden, turning at length to Balthazar and Gwilym and his Minion Raven. He looks lastly to Balthazar, chuckling. The sound is held in his chest for a smooth rumble, reminiscent of his grandfather. "You...brother... are done for. You do realizes this, oes? I fear I shall never see you again." His mouth pulls in a long and wicked smile as he waves the food and drink away. "She seems resistant to fire...to your fire... and yet she seems to put you in this state of constant burning. It is like she is the nuclear reaction that makes the sun burn."
     Balthazar sighs, his eyes closing. He sighs, his face twisting with pleasure redoubled as his wings fold and disappear again. How she affects him, and how much, is obvious. "She makes me crazy," he says, "...yet she is the only one who tempers me."
     Gruffydd stands, his smile both beneficent and compassionate. "She is a paradox. She is what will kill you... and make you whole." He chuckles, glancing to Aeron and Gwilym. "She is like ...Aphrodite. And we were all in her garden, attending her. Even Aeron."
     "I was not attending her. Can I not be polite and affable without raising suspicions?"
     "I don't know," Gruffydd chuckles. "I've never seen you affable and polite ..."

     He waves a hand through the air and comes up with gobbets of raw flesh which he offers to his raven brother. I am not them, but I adore you in my own way, he assures quietly. It is never going to be sweet; I am not good at sweet. But I love you, brawd. In ways which are filthy and wrong and against man and god, and with all my heart.
     He grins sharply, tossing the bloodied meat to Aeron and looking to his nephews. "Love is a bitch," he rolls out. "But she seems a very sweet girl. Be careful you don't get diabetes, oes?"

     Sugar makes me gag. The raven shakes his feathers into place, the inky pinions gleaming, and he swallows the bits of meat whole. I don't want sweet, Gwilym. That's not it. I want nothing more than what I have. The bird gullets down the remainder of meat, devouring all the rich bits of rabbit and venison. He sits squat and firm upon his king's (and lover's) shoulder. "Love is a bitch," he mimics in Gwilym's own voice.
     Gruffydd smirks, giving his peacock wings a bit of a shake. "I will see you by the river, oes?" He has servants to see to, messages to send. "Uncles..."
     "It is sweet because she is young," Balthazar says quietly, seriously. With his wings drawn in, there is a sudden tantric mastery of his power. He absorbs it, turning it in upon itself, folding it until it fits inside of him. fills each and every pore and is contained. "But some of it is her nature. She is... very kind. Good hearted. Soft. And for the first time," he looks to his uncle Gwilym and his uncle-raven. "... for me... I am willing to let someone know, let her know, when I need help and... even let her help me. She has magic of her own. She'll grow. I would suspect, then, that she is not alone in that. I guess Bran was right."
     Golden eyebrows lift. He hates to admit that. "If we are too much treacle, uncles, you don't have to join us." Balthazar chuckles at that. "But you are welcome to. I ... would like it if you would. But... understand either way." He looks mostly at his uncle Gwilym. "Diolch, uncle," he murmurs. "For... your advice and help. You said for me to .... be open to what the universe had in store for me. I have tried to do so..."

     "I think you're doing just fine." Gwilym cocks an eyebrow, grin remaining. He is so shy in his way. "By the river, oes," he tells his other nephew. "We'll make it down there eventually. You know, you should get papa down there - well, not in sunlight."
     His grin sparks, lighting in his eyes. Riot! "I am glad you've found someone," he tells Balthazar, more seriously. "She suits y', it shows. You're going to be happy, if you allow yourself."
     Maybe we should find a back bedroom not in use...

     Aeron reappears behind and slightly beside his brother, his head tilted, his attention firmly on him. Not it is Aeron who dismisses his nearby audience. There is one down the hall. Most of the rooms on the ground floor are unoccupied...and without neighbors.
     Black-green eyes shimmer as they look from his brother to his nephew. His mouth twists at mention of his father. "I'm not sure you want papa spending too much time with her. He is the Black Jack Davy, even if he is... rusty."
     Balthazar flushes a little. He is shy. Tiernan is evident in him, though his looks favor Iowerth most of all. "We will see you there, then. And... I am trying," he nods. Balthazar rises slowly, "But trying not to try too hard," his mouth spreads in a buttery smile. "I am going to find her now," he murmurs.. "I will see you both on the riverbank I hope. Aeron... it was nice seeing you... you know... smiling."
     "God hates liars," Aeron rolls out blandly. "And gossips." Deny, deny, deny! But in the quiet of thought, there is a glimmering wink. I actually like her. I'm not sure what that says for her character but... I do like her...

Posted by rowan at June 25, 2009 10:36 AM