RP: A long-awaited reunion.
Date: January 7th, 2005
Characters: Willis Travers, Siri (NPC)
Location: Around Stoatshead
Status: Private
Summary: Now that Millicent is, alas, gone, Siri comes for a visit. A bit more on the Travers family in general, if yeh will.
Warning: Incest, though it's more implied/anticipated than acted out in-post.
Completion: Complete
She came to him. Far from that dolt of a husband and the house that he believed himself to rule, far from all pretensions of restriction. Most women were to be ruled, yes, but Siri had never been of that sort. She could act the part, had acted it for years and for their family, but she was truly her father’s daughter, a woman of strength, never to be fully tamed.
He welcomed her willingly, willfully.
As she passed him, striding, he grinned, allowed her to pass without physical greeting. Not yet. She set aside a few packages that she had brought, things that had once been his and were now to be returned, then, turning, faced him. They stood apart--could not sit, not with such restless force--exchanged brief greetings, news, and all the while their eyes raged, fixated on one another. Not yet. Soon.
“Willis. Do you find me beautiful?” She came to this only after a short while, and he wasn’t surprised. They could wait, yes, but had never been very patient.
“Beautiful as ever.” And she was; god, she looked almost unchanged, with that smile of hers. He pulled back, drawing her hand toward him as he sat, pulling her onto his knee. Closer. “Didn’t expect that he could change you.”
She laughed, shrill. “He certainly tried.” Tracing a finger over his chest, she lowered her voice. “They changed you.”
He snorted, shook his head. “Not them. Just sitting in that bloody cell.” Now he grabbed her hand, examining her fingers. Light things, with a devilish touch. Just as he recalled. “It doesn’t run deep.”
“I shouldn’t think so.”
“Do you find the change displeasing?” He doubted it. Wouldn’t believe it if she said so. For all the change they might speak of, there was little different now. He felt her, had sensed their continued understanding, a connection stronger than he had felt with any other. She was the closest family that he had, and he hers.
“Not in the least.” She lifted her other hand to remove his fingers, slowly, then rose with a strong suddenness, smiling back at him. “I should say I find it inconsequential, but I quite like it. It suits you, Willis.”
It was his turn to laugh. “Glad to hear.”
“And you’ve found a house of your own…” Here she drifted off, examining the rather dusty area. There was an implication. While Willis wasn’t necessarily one to pick up on most unspoken words, he heard these clearly. She had always held that he should have received their manor, that their brother could never hold true to their name. He wouldn’t have minded, really, but he didn’t mind this, either. Hell of a lot less to care for. And, as they both knew, blood rights above all else had given the estate to Reginald.
“He’s frightened of you, and of me.” She spoke again, smiling in that charming, dangerous way of hers. “He’s gotten less obvious about it, oh yes, but I believe our Reginald will never grow out of his fears.” A shrug, and this time she took his hand, pulling him to his feet. “But we should expect nothing less from our dear brother.”
“That’s why we love him,” he snorted again, a hint of a laugh. “Long as he remembers his place.”
“He’s too well-situated to do anything ridiculous,” she had come closer to him, and he took in the tones of her skin, the slight curl of her hair, the curves of her body. Of course she was beautiful. There was no reason that she should ever be otherwise. “And he knows better than to cross his family. You know that.”
“Damned right, I do.” If his brief visit home had taught him anything, it was that even a sterner-looking Reg was still willing to give whatever was demanded of him. The man did know his place; must have learned something from their father, then.
“Did you speak to him?” Again, she moved closer, now leaning against him, one arm curled around to his back, the other playing with his sleeve.
“That I did.” He was half-distracted now, feeling her hair, harder than was necessary but more gently than was his accustomed manner. This was a familiar feel; the recently departed girl had brought lovely hair, but there was something to Siri’s that no other could ever match.
“I thought as much. He didn’t mention it, but when I spoke your name, it was obvious enough.” Shifting against his arm, she moved so that his hand slipped over her shoulder, harshly caressing her neck. Still, she batted absently at his other sleeve, nuzzled against him. He’d missed that, though he hadn’t really given it thought. It was good to feel again.
“He’s got to contain himself better, that Reg. If he’s going to run things proper.” His hand had started down her side, feeling the curve, pressing strongly, and yet she didn’t flinched away. She never had.
“Oh, he does quite well with those on the outside.” She turned her face upward suddenly, that flash of a smile again, and then he felt the palm of her hand against his face, her nails in his wrist, and she nearly slipped away from him. He caught her, though, grabbed her wrist as she laughed. “It is only with his true family that he comes apart.”
Willis pulled her toward him in a rough jerk, holding her arm upward, half-glaring into her face even as he smiled in earnest. For several moments her held her in tension, Siri suspended by his hold. Then he released her, and she was falling, almost to the ground before a sudden movement saw her recover somehow, take to her feet and steal to the other side of the room. Then they were staring at one another, she smiling, he resisting any smile, but far from raging.
“And you, are you enjoying yourself?” He pointed at her in a strong thrust of a gesture, now half-grinning.
“Oh, immensely.” Still she lingered, away, and he could only look at her, remember her and know her. “It has been far too long.” Yet neither of them had changed, not essentially. The same drive, the same strength, the same desire.
They had always been much like one, had always played these games and more than games. Their father had never cared. They had gone to him in early years, concerned for thought of family only. So long as they knew their duty, so long as they accepted what must come, he paid the matter no mind. Reg had been more distraught, but he’d given up. And as for the pair of them, they’d not seen it as anything more than familial connection, something that was theirs by right, natural in the face of their obligations. It had never been the only connection, but it had always been theirs.
Now she ran to him again, suddenly and with a force of determination, of years left unknown. This time she didn’t pull away when he drew her close, moving fully into his grip, taking him into her arms even as he took her into his.
There was no crime in uniting family.
Characters: Willis Travers, Siri (NPC)
Location: Around Stoatshead
Status: Private
Summary: Now that Millicent is, alas, gone, Siri comes for a visit. A bit more on the Travers family in general, if yeh will.
Warning: Incest, though it's more implied/anticipated than acted out in-post.
Completion: Complete
She came to him. Far from that dolt of a husband and the house that he believed himself to rule, far from all pretensions of restriction. Most women were to be ruled, yes, but Siri had never been of that sort. She could act the part, had acted it for years and for their family, but she was truly her father’s daughter, a woman of strength, never to be fully tamed.
He welcomed her willingly, willfully.
As she passed him, striding, he grinned, allowed her to pass without physical greeting. Not yet. She set aside a few packages that she had brought, things that had once been his and were now to be returned, then, turning, faced him. They stood apart--could not sit, not with such restless force--exchanged brief greetings, news, and all the while their eyes raged, fixated on one another. Not yet. Soon.
“Willis. Do you find me beautiful?” She came to this only after a short while, and he wasn’t surprised. They could wait, yes, but had never been very patient.
“Beautiful as ever.” And she was; god, she looked almost unchanged, with that smile of hers. He pulled back, drawing her hand toward him as he sat, pulling her onto his knee. Closer. “Didn’t expect that he could change you.”
She laughed, shrill. “He certainly tried.” Tracing a finger over his chest, she lowered her voice. “They changed you.”
He snorted, shook his head. “Not them. Just sitting in that bloody cell.” Now he grabbed her hand, examining her fingers. Light things, with a devilish touch. Just as he recalled. “It doesn’t run deep.”
“I shouldn’t think so.”
“Do you find the change displeasing?” He doubted it. Wouldn’t believe it if she said so. For all the change they might speak of, there was little different now. He felt her, had sensed their continued understanding, a connection stronger than he had felt with any other. She was the closest family that he had, and he hers.
“Not in the least.” She lifted her other hand to remove his fingers, slowly, then rose with a strong suddenness, smiling back at him. “I should say I find it inconsequential, but I quite like it. It suits you, Willis.”
It was his turn to laugh. “Glad to hear.”
“And you’ve found a house of your own…” Here she drifted off, examining the rather dusty area. There was an implication. While Willis wasn’t necessarily one to pick up on most unspoken words, he heard these clearly. She had always held that he should have received their manor, that their brother could never hold true to their name. He wouldn’t have minded, really, but he didn’t mind this, either. Hell of a lot less to care for. And, as they both knew, blood rights above all else had given the estate to Reginald.
“He’s frightened of you, and of me.” She spoke again, smiling in that charming, dangerous way of hers. “He’s gotten less obvious about it, oh yes, but I believe our Reginald will never grow out of his fears.” A shrug, and this time she took his hand, pulling him to his feet. “But we should expect nothing less from our dear brother.”
“That’s why we love him,” he snorted again, a hint of a laugh. “Long as he remembers his place.”
“He’s too well-situated to do anything ridiculous,” she had come closer to him, and he took in the tones of her skin, the slight curl of her hair, the curves of her body. Of course she was beautiful. There was no reason that she should ever be otherwise. “And he knows better than to cross his family. You know that.”
“Damned right, I do.” If his brief visit home had taught him anything, it was that even a sterner-looking Reg was still willing to give whatever was demanded of him. The man did know his place; must have learned something from their father, then.
“Did you speak to him?” Again, she moved closer, now leaning against him, one arm curled around to his back, the other playing with his sleeve.
“That I did.” He was half-distracted now, feeling her hair, harder than was necessary but more gently than was his accustomed manner. This was a familiar feel; the recently departed girl had brought lovely hair, but there was something to Siri’s that no other could ever match.
“I thought as much. He didn’t mention it, but when I spoke your name, it was obvious enough.” Shifting against his arm, she moved so that his hand slipped over her shoulder, harshly caressing her neck. Still, she batted absently at his other sleeve, nuzzled against him. He’d missed that, though he hadn’t really given it thought. It was good to feel again.
“He’s got to contain himself better, that Reg. If he’s going to run things proper.” His hand had started down her side, feeling the curve, pressing strongly, and yet she didn’t flinched away. She never had.
“Oh, he does quite well with those on the outside.” She turned her face upward suddenly, that flash of a smile again, and then he felt the palm of her hand against his face, her nails in his wrist, and she nearly slipped away from him. He caught her, though, grabbed her wrist as she laughed. “It is only with his true family that he comes apart.”
Willis pulled her toward him in a rough jerk, holding her arm upward, half-glaring into her face even as he smiled in earnest. For several moments her held her in tension, Siri suspended by his hold. Then he released her, and she was falling, almost to the ground before a sudden movement saw her recover somehow, take to her feet and steal to the other side of the room. Then they were staring at one another, she smiling, he resisting any smile, but far from raging.
“And you, are you enjoying yourself?” He pointed at her in a strong thrust of a gesture, now half-grinning.
“Oh, immensely.” Still she lingered, away, and he could only look at her, remember her and know her. “It has been far too long.” Yet neither of them had changed, not essentially. The same drive, the same strength, the same desire.
They had always been much like one, had always played these games and more than games. Their father had never cared. They had gone to him in early years, concerned for thought of family only. So long as they knew their duty, so long as they accepted what must come, he paid the matter no mind. Reg had been more distraught, but he’d given up. And as for the pair of them, they’d not seen it as anything more than familial connection, something that was theirs by right, natural in the face of their obligations. It had never been the only connection, but it had always been theirs.
Now she ran to him again, suddenly and with a force of determination, of years left unknown. This time she didn’t pull away when he drew her close, moving fully into his grip, taking him into her arms even as he took her into his.
There was no crime in uniting family.