Days after their arrival in Odersten, called forth by an oath of duty, Ethel found that the days drug their heels and the nights were nigh insufferable.  Perhaps it was due to this newfound isolation, this foundation for boredom, that time seemed to still.  The minutes weren't the only change.  The capital city was much louder than the quiet walls of Sanctuary - a bleak reminder of a home abandoned to the spiders.  Drunken carols joined the chorus of barking stray dogs and wayward sailors exploring the shores; carriage wheels on cobble were a constant background thrum.  Dimitris had warned that any trip outside was to be brief and the blade on her hip was to stay within reach. At first, Ethel had blamed the change of scenery for the overwhelming exhaustion that had taken over her lithe frame.  The excitement of the city, the lights and the sounds.  Just need to adjust, that's all.  How unusual it was for the young girl to sleep past the morning but now she'd wake up close to noon - if not later.  She found it taxing tending to Hazel and the other chores required to upkeep their small apartment.  All she wanted to do was sleep. It took little time for her to acclimate to the enthralling sights of the city; Ethel took to it like a fish to water.  Whenever she could muster the energy, languid steps brought her to the wharf where she watched the birds dive into the ocean or steal bread right from the hands of a worker on break.  Being in Sanctuary, Ethel never realized how much she missed the sea until it rippled in front of her.  The sway of the sails in the saline breeze, the way light reflected from the myriad of waves.  She'd spend hours just watching the water, not realizing how easily the day escaped. Those trips were cut short, however, when the overwhelming smell of fish made her stomach churn in a way that was foreign and alarming.  Most smells caused her stomach to quiver but it wasn't until they finally caused her to retch that Ethel sought guidance. "When was your last blood?"  Ethel folded her hands in her lap as the doctor continued his examination.  "Two months ago."  There was a strange demurity in her voice.  Had it really been that long since they left Sanctuary?  A niggling ache crept from her chest, its reaching, icy fingers squeezing her throat with a resonating hum of morose realization.  It was two months now since she'd last seen him.  After further testing, the doctor gave his diagnosis. "I believe you're with child."  The slow growth of her stomach confirmed it.  There was a subtle bump now beneath the folds of her freshly sewn maternity gown - a small difference one truly had to squint to see.  Even if Dimitris couldn't read, Ethel still wrote to him of her days here in Odersten and on the newest page, she included that they were expecting.  Lithe arms cradled the bolts of cloth as she stood in front of their apartment door.  She reached for the key, turned the lock with a satisfied click, and closed the door behind her once inside.  Ethel began to unload her latest project on the tea table with care not to disturb the patterns of cloth already strewn upon it.  She stood for a moment, instinct alert, alarmed that something wasn't right.  Everything was how it should have been, how she left it before making the journey to the market.  The smell of the apartment, however, was... different.  There was a new musk that filled her head and made it swim with familiarity.  Steel and oil.  Leather and spice. "Dimitris?"  Dulcet voice reached out above the frantic drumming in her chest.  "Are you here?"  Lithe fingers reached for the hilt of her blade tucked within the pocket of her dress as Ethel made way towards the living room.  ‘All that we see or seem’, ‘Is but a dream within a dream.

Jahi

 The scent of the sea was strong in the open windows of the flat. He hadn't expected much else, in honesty, when he had briefly accompanied her to unpack their belongings. He knew she held a fondness for the ocean, the dance hall having been saddled upon the wharf for weary travelers to take refuge in. He had hoped this would make her feel more at home, after being forced to uproot once again. After everything had finally felt as if it would be smoothed over, and they could have their own slice of peace and prosperity. They were well off in Sanctuary. She had her own studio where many of the townsfolk had come for lessons from the ever graceful Ethel Nethersole. But nothing good could ever last, and he felt that to be a blight upon him specifically.

He passed his hand over his features, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh. A break from the rigorous training only gave him time to realize how tired he had become recently. His life had definitely not become sedentary after leaving his father's services, but he certainly hadn't been as diligent as he had once been - and a fondness for the lady's cooking had also not helped. It was habits he would rather not soon forget again since seeing the loathsome effort it took to regain such a regimen. It had also introduced something foreign as well. He was not accustomed to working with others. His only sparring partner during the days he had been learning how to wield a sword was his father. A cruel and unforgiving man that he was, and when Dimitris had demonstrated the way he had been taught, it had been met with appalment. Savage, a word he was not a stranger to, had been added to the list of things the others in the barracks called him. Deserter and coward, however, left a bitterness in his mouth and a frown carved into the edges of his mouth.

He hadn't run from that battle. A hard feat considering the lord had sent him across the sea far before Lavalles had officially moved against Vufrein with military might. Yet, he could not imagine how the various nobles that were now present on the proving ground had so dutifully defended not only themselves, but their liege and land when Dunmeath had fallen, but here they resided. He pulled his hand away, eye opening as he heard the click of the lock. He shifted in his seat, ceasing the listlessly oiling of the boot knife and turning more towards the door way as he heard her enter. There came the sound of shuffling, of rustling items and then her footfalls and movements sharply halted.

"Dimitris?" she called, and while her intonation sounded almost certain, there was a lingering doubt, a tightness that was answered by his rise and the familiar plague of his heavy steps. "Are you here?" He met her visage at the doorway, giving her the slight ghost of a smile. "I was hoping to surprise you." He rumbled the words, accompanied by a low, thoughtful hum. He would close the distance in between them, rough hands softly cradling her cheeks as he drew a deep breath from her wild mahogany locks, allowing the comforting scent to ease the tension of her absence. His lips would whisper over the top of her crown affectionately as he pulled her close in an enveloping embrace, murmuring quietly. "What gave me away?"

Ethel prayed that this was nothing but an overactive ploy to the senses, that someone wasn't lurking in the dark shadows of their home.  A predator anticipating its prey.  It was silly of her to think that Dimitris would be here.  There'd been no rumours of the soldiers returning to their homes; the streets were their usual selves void of all else but the typical excitements.  No unusual whispers and certainly no overzealous wives screaming with joy at the return of their lovers.  If the men were allowed back, he would have sent some manner of forewarning, right?  Even if he himself couldn't write, there were others that could send word if something were to happen. There was no voice to answer the uncertain query hanging now in the apartment depths.  Fearful digits encircled the hilt of the dainty dagger until the blunt arch of her knuckles grew white.  She wasn't very adept with the weapon but as long as she could get the pointy end into her assailant, it'd be enough of a distraction for her to flee. First there was the flash of icy blue that appeared in the archway, ensnaring the bemused quiver of her sterling iris.  Shock kept Ethel's legs still and her mouth sinched -  not even her breath dared break that moment of silence.  Her gaze followed the familiar tresses of pristine ivory, his burly body a comforting statue in the doorway that had her easing the grip on her weapon.  For the first time, there were no words spewing from the exciteable Markai bride.  "I was hoping to surprise you."  Before her feet could find their rhythm and run into those stalwart arms, he had closed that dreadfully cold distance.  He was warm.  He was gentle in the way broad hands curled around her soft freckled cheeks.  His lips were as fond as she remembered them to be all those nights ago while they placed a gentle affection to her mussed crown.  "What gave me away?"  The husky whisper sent a shiver down the curve of her spine and the child's hormones lured tears to blur her waterline.  Ethel looked up at him, her mouth seeking the rough curve of his for a brief, fleeting endearment while their arms held one another in an adoring embrace.  Hers was tight, perhaps too tight, and her tongue finally found its courage, unleashing a chuckling reply.  "I smelled the oil."  Despite her desire to hold him longer, she would pull away to scan him head to toe.  Concern for his welbeing far outweighing any desire for affection.  As far as Ethel could tell, nothing was out of sorts.  He seemed all the same as he was before departing for the training barracks - perhaps a bit more fit, if anything.  "You're not hurt, are ya?"  Lithe digits languidly trailed along his arms, searching for anything foreign upon his person.  The intrusive investigation didn't end.  Seeking fingers splayed along his chest, feeling little else beyond the customary leathers.  "Are you hungry?  Tired?  I can makeup the bed real quick so you can rest."  Ethel tilted her head up at him.