Terms of the Gods

[sea_skyrian]

It had been a week since her departure from Atlantis, and never before in her brief life had Pony anticipated anything as she now does her return to Namor's kingdome. She is weary, bruised, and faint from her self-imposed exile as she swims up to the entrance of the beautiful city, and she does not know if the news she carries will bring happiness

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[land_n_sea]

It is not at all long before she is brought to a room, escorted and offered a palanquin of sorts to take her there. It is very shortly that she is joined by Namor. The room is one of the nooks and crannies of the palace which is relatively unknown and unused - making it a decent place to escape to from time to time.

There is something about Namor that speaks of his mood - a darkness or something that bespeaks a mood. Anger, perhaps?

Something heavy, hovering around him.

[sea_skyrian]

Careful not to sway or stumble, Philippa rises to her feet to greet him, drinking in the sight of him, dark temper and all. "What troubles you, my lord?"

[land_n_sea]

Namor closes the distance between them quickly as she rises. As he looks her over, turning her some to check her condition as he closes in with her personal space. "Are you well, Philippa?"

[sea_skyrian]

She leans into his warmth with a quiet sigh, letting the formality drop. "I am tired, my love. Very tired. But successful, perhaps."

[land_n_sea]

Namor wraps his arms around her, allowing the worry to show on his face, as she cannot see it at the moment. He holds her gently but firmly, "Perhaps?"

[sea_skyrian]

"If you find the terms agreeable," she elaborates softly. "Then we may bear a child together."

[land_n_sea]

"Ah."

Namor carefully reaches up and runs a hand through her hair.

"I see."

[sea_skyrian]

She trembles against him in combined weariness and relief, and presses closer. "I have missed you so. I thought of little else."

[land_n_sea]

"Truly?"

Namor sounds amused... Perhaps something more than that as well. He makes sure that his arms are firmly holding her, sharing warmth as well as giving comfort.

[sea_skyrian]

She laughs softly at that, lifting her head. "No, I but jest. I held in my dreams the other handsome, honorable warrior whom I am bethrothed to."

[land_n_sea]

"Ah, that I could compare to such a paragon. The Avenging Son has a great task set before him." Leaning down, he presses a kiss to her forehead.

[sea_skyrian]

That choice of words taken with the news she carries and her own light-headedness provokes a quiet giggle. "And prophetic as well. Come, Namor, and sit with me."

[land_n_sea]

Namor carefully picks her up and takes them both over to a place to sit. He is hesitant to be seperated from her again. If he were thinking about it, it would distrub him greatly that he is so concerned with her well being - given the precedents.

[sea_skyrian]

She laughs again, flustered, but certainly pleased. She wraps her arms around his neck to steady herself.

"Mmmm...we may have a child," she murmurs. "If you are willing to allow the old gods into your realm."

[land_n_sea]

Namor looks at her thougthfully for a few moments before his gaze grows distant and he looks away. His hands are still around her, one of them running through her hair.

[sea_skyrian]

She does not push for an answer just yet. She has delivered news that requires thought. And he has not yet heard the whole of it.