it makes me happiest to write raoul/buri
... but don't get me wrong, I've really liked delving into so many other characters/pairings. The dialogue in this just flowed, which was nice after the writer's block I suffered on some of the pieces before it.
June 8: love me, love my dog, feat. Raoul and Buri of Goldenlake and Malorie’s Peak
-
“Eat your cake, dear,” Buri said, raising the dessert to Raoul’s mouth.
Her new husband fixed her with a look of mock incredulity, but there remained the good-natured twinkle in his dark eyes. “For one thing, beloved, I am an old man, not a child that needs to be fed. For another, I didn’t let you push cake into my face at our wedding, so there should be no expectation that I would allow you to do so at this one.”
“For one, an old man requires as much babying, if not more, than a child,” Buri retorted, licking the frosting off her fingers. “For another, you didn’t seem to mind eating it on our wedding night.”
He grinned charmingly and slung an arm around the back of her chair. “If you can find us a private room, I may be tempted to change my mind.”
She rolled her eyes at Dom, sitting beside them, whose shadow of a grin belied his inattention to their conversation, and straightened so that she could get a better look at Sir Nealan dancing with his Yamani wife. Raoul played with the ends of her hair for several silent moments before commenting in a quiet voice, “There’s Lady Eva of Maren; at Aunt’s party she tried to set me up with the lady’s daughter. If you like brown eyes, Dom,” he directed toward his sergeant, “the daughter is attractive.”
“And what made you say no to the pretty young thing?” Buri asked dryly.
“I prefer women with a strong will,” he answered, “or, at the least, a will. Besides, I had my mind on other things.” She smiled somewhat smugly and leaned her head against his shoulder.
“Oh, and there’s Lady Gwen of Blue Harbor.” Raoul subtly nodded in the lady’s direction. “I sometimes wonder if she churned out girls simply to have as many suitable matches for Goldenlake as possible. No, I’m not flattering myself,” he said at Buri’s incredulous laugh. “I couldn’t begin to recite the list of names of the women - girls, some of them - that she shoved at me. I felt sorrier for the girls, who probably wanted only to be playing with the family dogs.” His expression turned thoughtful. “Excellent hounds.”
“ ‘Love my dogs, love me,’” Buri commented wickedly.
“Lady Gwen always did contend that Blue Harbor and Goldenlake would make a wonderful match, if only for the flag colors.” Raoul grimaced. “Remind me why it is that we’re here?”
Buri smacked his big hand, but he caught her fingers in his. Refusing to be distracted, she replied, “Because Neal is Kel’s best friend. You know, for one who claims not to be a child, you’re acting quite young for your age.”
“I could not have said it better.” Wyldon of Cavall, clad in a dark gray, albeit skillfully embroidered, tunic, drew up a seat beside theirs.
“Speaking of a man who loves his dogs,” Raoul said with a nod toward their new guest. “Cavall.”
The former training master gave no indication of the desire to expound on Raoul’s words, only, “Goldenlake.” He inclined his head toward Buri. “Commander Tourakom.”
“I’m neither of those anymore, Lord Wyldon,” she commented with a wry grin.
He pursed his lips. “Quite true. Then may I address you as Buriram?”
She smiled. “How about Buri?”
His lips actually curved upwards. “Good.”
“You should conserve those smiles, Cavall,” Raoul said. “You’ll be needing them when you give Neal your congratulatory speech.”
To his credit, Wyldon raised his eyebrows only a fraction of an inch. “I’m afraid that I would suffer such a gross lapse in judgment only under the influence of strong drink - many strong drinks.”
“Then I would have the pleasure of returning the many favors you paid me in my young years at celebrations such as these,” Raoul said with a crooked smile.
Wyldon watched Neal dance with Kel, his hands fluttering on her elbows as he spoke animatedly. “I can honestly say that I never imagined that Nealan would be the first of his year, or of those around him, to get married. Agewise, yes, he was ahead of them all, but in terms of maturity he often came in near the end of the group.”
“See, Cavall here actually knew Neal,” Raoul said to Buri. “It makes sense for him to be here, but why us?”
“Because Neal and Yuki came to our wedding,” Buri retorted.
Raoul waved a hand dismissively. “He’s a lovesick lad; he’ll do whatever his sweetheart tells him to.”
“I can think of at least one person who could benefit from that wisdom,” Buri said pointedly.
Raoul laughed shortly and threaded his fingers through her unbound hair. “I like it when you wear your hair down,” he commented.
“Don’t change the subject,” she said, though a smile touched her lips.
Raoul grinned at Wyldon. “Look at what I’ve been missing all these years. Could you imagine what a hideous, miserable death I would have come to if I hadn’t discovered the lovely bond of marriage?” Buri pretended to glare, but she didn’t protest as he drew her close with a murmur and a kiss.
“You remind me of my daughter and my squire,” the older man informed them dispassionately.
Raoul drew back to raise an eyebrow. “Kel’s friend, right?”
“Yes, the Jesslaw lad. It seems that my daughter Margarry has taken a liking to him. I had the displeasure of finding them carrying on in the gardens.“ He grimaced as if he had taken a gulp of bad wine.
Raoul clapped him on the shoulder. “Just wait, Cavall - maybe you’ll get lucky and be able to attend yet another wedding.” As Wyldon’s frown deepened and he murmured something in reply, Raoul muttered to Buri, “Hopefully the boy’s not in it just for the dogs.” She smacked his arm hard.
“On that note,” she announced, getting to her feet, “we should be leaving.” She folded another piece of cake into a napkin, prompting Dom to tease, “In search of a private room, hmm?”
“Watch out for Lady Gwen,” Raoul retorted with a joking shove to Dom’s shoulder, “unless, of course, you are looking for that special someone. Her daughters must all be about your age.” He grinned at Dom’s shudder. “You could have the pick of the litter.”
“Stop,” Buri mock-scolded as they walked away, leaving Dom and Wyldon.
Wyldon gazed coolly over the two empty chairs at the sergeant. “You are Neal’s cousin, correct?”
“Yes, sir,” Dom replied, wondering why he felt as if he were being quizzed. “Meathead and I are quite close - scarily so.”
Wyldon’s forbidding face relaxed slightly in a rare show of humor. “Then perhaps I am too quick in offering my condolences. Sergeant,” he said with a curt nod as he rose from his chair.
“Sir,” Dom replied. His eyes went back to Kel and Neal dancing; he raised a hand in greeting when they looked his way. His ears did pick up, however, Wyldon’s murmur as he shuffled through the crowd: “Meathead . . .”
June 8: love me, love my dog, feat. Raoul and Buri of Goldenlake and Malorie’s Peak
-
“Eat your cake, dear,” Buri said, raising the dessert to Raoul’s mouth.
Her new husband fixed her with a look of mock incredulity, but there remained the good-natured twinkle in his dark eyes. “For one thing, beloved, I am an old man, not a child that needs to be fed. For another, I didn’t let you push cake into my face at our wedding, so there should be no expectation that I would allow you to do so at this one.”
“For one, an old man requires as much babying, if not more, than a child,” Buri retorted, licking the frosting off her fingers. “For another, you didn’t seem to mind eating it on our wedding night.”
He grinned charmingly and slung an arm around the back of her chair. “If you can find us a private room, I may be tempted to change my mind.”
She rolled her eyes at Dom, sitting beside them, whose shadow of a grin belied his inattention to their conversation, and straightened so that she could get a better look at Sir Nealan dancing with his Yamani wife. Raoul played with the ends of her hair for several silent moments before commenting in a quiet voice, “There’s Lady Eva of Maren; at Aunt’s party she tried to set me up with the lady’s daughter. If you like brown eyes, Dom,” he directed toward his sergeant, “the daughter is attractive.”
“And what made you say no to the pretty young thing?” Buri asked dryly.
“I prefer women with a strong will,” he answered, “or, at the least, a will. Besides, I had my mind on other things.” She smiled somewhat smugly and leaned her head against his shoulder.
“Oh, and there’s Lady Gwen of Blue Harbor.” Raoul subtly nodded in the lady’s direction. “I sometimes wonder if she churned out girls simply to have as many suitable matches for Goldenlake as possible. No, I’m not flattering myself,” he said at Buri’s incredulous laugh. “I couldn’t begin to recite the list of names of the women - girls, some of them - that she shoved at me. I felt sorrier for the girls, who probably wanted only to be playing with the family dogs.” His expression turned thoughtful. “Excellent hounds.”
“ ‘Love my dogs, love me,’” Buri commented wickedly.
“Lady Gwen always did contend that Blue Harbor and Goldenlake would make a wonderful match, if only for the flag colors.” Raoul grimaced. “Remind me why it is that we’re here?”
Buri smacked his big hand, but he caught her fingers in his. Refusing to be distracted, she replied, “Because Neal is Kel’s best friend. You know, for one who claims not to be a child, you’re acting quite young for your age.”
“I could not have said it better.” Wyldon of Cavall, clad in a dark gray, albeit skillfully embroidered, tunic, drew up a seat beside theirs.
“Speaking of a man who loves his dogs,” Raoul said with a nod toward their new guest. “Cavall.”
The former training master gave no indication of the desire to expound on Raoul’s words, only, “Goldenlake.” He inclined his head toward Buri. “Commander Tourakom.”
“I’m neither of those anymore, Lord Wyldon,” she commented with a wry grin.
He pursed his lips. “Quite true. Then may I address you as Buriram?”
She smiled. “How about Buri?”
His lips actually curved upwards. “Good.”
“You should conserve those smiles, Cavall,” Raoul said. “You’ll be needing them when you give Neal your congratulatory speech.”
To his credit, Wyldon raised his eyebrows only a fraction of an inch. “I’m afraid that I would suffer such a gross lapse in judgment only under the influence of strong drink - many strong drinks.”
“Then I would have the pleasure of returning the many favors you paid me in my young years at celebrations such as these,” Raoul said with a crooked smile.
Wyldon watched Neal dance with Kel, his hands fluttering on her elbows as he spoke animatedly. “I can honestly say that I never imagined that Nealan would be the first of his year, or of those around him, to get married. Agewise, yes, he was ahead of them all, but in terms of maturity he often came in near the end of the group.”
“See, Cavall here actually knew Neal,” Raoul said to Buri. “It makes sense for him to be here, but why us?”
“Because Neal and Yuki came to our wedding,” Buri retorted.
Raoul waved a hand dismissively. “He’s a lovesick lad; he’ll do whatever his sweetheart tells him to.”
“I can think of at least one person who could benefit from that wisdom,” Buri said pointedly.
Raoul laughed shortly and threaded his fingers through her unbound hair. “I like it when you wear your hair down,” he commented.
“Don’t change the subject,” she said, though a smile touched her lips.
Raoul grinned at Wyldon. “Look at what I’ve been missing all these years. Could you imagine what a hideous, miserable death I would have come to if I hadn’t discovered the lovely bond of marriage?” Buri pretended to glare, but she didn’t protest as he drew her close with a murmur and a kiss.
“You remind me of my daughter and my squire,” the older man informed them dispassionately.
Raoul drew back to raise an eyebrow. “Kel’s friend, right?”
“Yes, the Jesslaw lad. It seems that my daughter Margarry has taken a liking to him. I had the displeasure of finding them carrying on in the gardens.“ He grimaced as if he had taken a gulp of bad wine.
Raoul clapped him on the shoulder. “Just wait, Cavall - maybe you’ll get lucky and be able to attend yet another wedding.” As Wyldon’s frown deepened and he murmured something in reply, Raoul muttered to Buri, “Hopefully the boy’s not in it just for the dogs.” She smacked his arm hard.
“On that note,” she announced, getting to her feet, “we should be leaving.” She folded another piece of cake into a napkin, prompting Dom to tease, “In search of a private room, hmm?”
“Watch out for Lady Gwen,” Raoul retorted with a joking shove to Dom’s shoulder, “unless, of course, you are looking for that special someone. Her daughters must all be about your age.” He grinned at Dom’s shudder. “You could have the pick of the litter.”
“Stop,” Buri mock-scolded as they walked away, leaving Dom and Wyldon.
Wyldon gazed coolly over the two empty chairs at the sergeant. “You are Neal’s cousin, correct?”
“Yes, sir,” Dom replied, wondering why he felt as if he were being quizzed. “Meathead and I are quite close - scarily so.”
Wyldon’s forbidding face relaxed slightly in a rare show of humor. “Then perhaps I am too quick in offering my condolences. Sergeant,” he said with a curt nod as he rose from his chair.
“Sir,” Dom replied. His eyes went back to Kel and Neal dancing; he raised a hand in greeting when they looked his way. His ears did pick up, however, Wyldon’s murmur as he shuffled through the crowd: “Meathead . . .”