"Teach you?" Her stomach sunk with the known answer. Refusal. "I... don't want to hurt you." But despite the chill that languidly trailed the curve of her spine and the subtle quake of her hand, Ethel smiled. She smiled to reassure him. She smiled in order to steel herself from the visions of blood and gore - visions of a man nearly wounded beyond repair. Bite marks and slashes. Skin tore from muscle; muscle ripped from the bone. All of which were reasons why such soft hands sought the rough bite of the blade. Ethel refused to be some weak, cowering damsel. "Better you than someone else." Her whisper was a soft sound piercing the quiet around them. It would linger for a moment, hovering between them long enough for him to retrace the conversation and draw it into a different perspective. A different train of thought dwelling with Dailry and the young pups at her side - of her husband bound to bed till either death takes him or life offered salvation. Truthfully, his prospects were bleak as much as Ethel hated to admit it. "Oh, that would be lovely. Far as I know, food is all they need." She turned to him in time to catch the slight flush to his cheeks and though a denial had been quick to her lips - instead they curled. Such an impish woman devilishly relishing that pink blush. Unabashed in her delight, unashamed at the sight of them, Ethel reached out to hook her arm into his much larger, stronger elbow should he allow it. "If you're offerin'... a new dress would be nice... But!" She held up a finger to interrupt any potential protest. "Only if you let me do somethin' for you in return." ‘All that we see or seem’, ‘Is but a dream within a dream.

Jahi

She smiled, the expression demure, but nervous. Something that bit at the edges of her sterling gaze that brought him a disconcerting feeling. It felt like fingertips walking up his spine, but they were cold, akin to pikes of ice just barely ghosting along the pale splendor of his back. Her smile didn't normally elicit this sensation. It was normally the epitome of warmth, the sun itself rivaled in the wreath of her glimmering eyes, mischievous or genuine mirth. Perhaps it was her own unnerving thoughts that made the doubt so palpable, but her words only served to set him further on edge. "Better you than someone else." The words were soft-spoken, barely a murmur of wind between the whispered leaves of trees, but they set like steel betwixt his teeth.

His form shifted, the pallid, crystalline blue of his stare fixated upon her in pure focus as he read over her expression. Had something happened in his absence? Had someone here made her feel threatened in some way? Was it the attack itself? "Ethel." Her name was slow upon his lips. "Has someone here made you feel unsafe?" Had someone new come to the settlement in his absence? Someone that slipped through his patrols? Maybe someone like him. Maybe someone like Aariak. The thought made his skin crawl, a sensation that was unwilling to leave even as she averted her attention to what he had intended to steer her towards.

Teeth chewed at the inner softness of his cheek, unable to let the pale imagery of her prior forced grin be replaced by the true one now. Instead, he would kneel slightly, lifting his pant leg just enough to retrieve the dagger and its sheath from his boot. "I'm not a good teacher." The words were accompanied by a low sigh as he presented the weapon to her, one much more befitting of her stature than any of his other blades. He tilted his head slightly. "But I'll do what I can." He allowed his stare to finally settle elsewhere, still wholly uncertain as to how to go about instruction at all. His sire had valued and praised consequence being a quick and efficient form of incentive to do well. To learn quickly. One he didn't want to share with her. The thought enough to pull a slight grimace to his countenance, glove idly brushing against the leather over his ruined eye.

"Oh, that would be lovely. Far as I know, food is all they need." He would merely offer a nod. Food, something they would certainly be lacking, as well as several others with the potential - or best case temporary - loss of another hunter. How many more did that leave? Far too few, by any standards. Distraction was found with the soft touch of her hand coiling against his elbow, his gaze drawing to the dulcet brush of her fingertips as she chimed, much more cheerfully now. "If you're offerin'... a new dress would be nice... But!" Attention flitted to her raised finger, and to the impish, teasing smile that lay just behind it, caged in the taint of those moonlit eyes. "Only if you let me do somethin' for you in return." He meant to object a moment, his mouth opening before a slight ah would escape him, his expression becoming a bit more droll as he slightly frowned at her implication. Never knowing if he could trust in her "surprises", such as the one she most recently demonstrated. "And what would that be?" He prompted, leading her towards the market banners and sparse colors of wavering flags that he could dimly hear rattling and snapping against their bindings in the breeze.

The blue of his eye was akin to a blanket. Warm, comforting, a haven where she could feel safe. Beneath the frown of his mouth and the scowl of his brow, the etchings of concern dwelled, and she could not help the shivers that possessed her, that compelled a near tremor from the entirety of her body. A tremble that did not belong to fear but something far more instinctual. A sensation in herself that could not be explained by word or thought or action. His, however, was a quiet emotion she dare not voice, lest her mind was mistaken in its translation. Care. Care for her safety. A strange tenderness for her alone. Her heart raced with uncanny speed and her stomach churned within its pit until she was certain that it would flee from her chest. The red of her cheeks deepened; her smile hung true and demure and sheepish. Ethel shook her head. "No." She told the truth. It was no being that awoke these feelings of fear. It was the unknown that lingered beyond their gates - the unknown that housed within them. Ethel watched him suddenly halt and she'd follow suit, the soft silver of her eyes bewitched by bemusement, then delight, as he withdrew the razor edge of his dagger from the confines of his boot. A weapon whose hilt was warm in her hand, warm and close as her digits ensnared it tightly. It would be housed within her sash with its glimmering edge visible at her hip as if she were a trained and true warrior. Funny how a piece of metal could make one feel so... secure. Perhaps it was because the blade had been his that this new feeling of safety flowed over her. She watched the market flags come into view and a new delight swelled within her breast - a chest that was close to his arm, that felt the warmth emanating from along its hewened strength. A trilling chuckle followed his query, one that was laced with inquiry and uncertainty. Well deserved, she supposed, since it wouldn't be the first nor last time she'd allowed her impish desires to overwhelm rational thought. And poor Dimitris, the bearer of her mischief forced to endure the burden of her teasing. "Whatever you like." Came part of her answer. "Is what I would say," She paused, the softness of her gaze firmly latched upon the rugged features of his face. "'cept we both know you'd brush that away so instead, you have four choices." And she'd hold up four fingers for emphasis. "Dinner made by yours truly cooked to your likin'." A finger lowered. "A relaxin' day by the lake." Another finger fell. "I buy a bolt of cloth and sew you some new clothes." While another finger fell, her smirk rose and Ethel offered a teasing wink. "Or a kiss from your wife." ‘All that we see or seem’, ‘Is but a dream within a dream.

Jahi

She seemed... unnerved, perhaps, by his askance. An unusual redness surfaced to her cheeks. It stained them not the garish hue of too much rouge, but the color that dyed lips with the fresh wild berries during the spring. It wasn't a sight he witnessed often, if he could ever truly recall it at all ruling her countenance. Certainly a rare and unexpected sight that bid him turn away slightly, as if he was witnessing something he shouldn't be. "No." This time, her simper was genuine, truthful and complete with the unbridled expressiveness he had grown accustomed to finding in her. He felt some of the tension seep from his shoulders, lingering and leaving slowly with her reassurance, but unwilling to depart completely.

His hesitation bloomed once more as the delighted spark lingered within her stare as she held the reliable weapon tightly within her fingers. Again, his mouth would open, releasing an uncertain breath before he would speak in a gentle warning. "Be careful with it: it's sharp." She wasn't a child, he knew, and the advice may have seemed trivial, arbitrary to her, but he had found that many unaccustomed to his way of life failed to take heed of such simple admissions to their own safety. "If you have to draw it, watch your own hand and fingers, I don't want you to slip and cut yourself." The low rumble faded from the reverberation of his chest as she fit the dagger of silver within the sash at her hip. Small, but reliable. A trinket that would cause more harm to the beasts of this land while still permitting plenty of defense against the normal mortal soul. He rarely held it himself, the pommel affixed with thick, warm throngs of leather to protect his own hand from touching the precious metals. He had never truly had to use it for its intended purpose, a gift from his mother. For the monsters of this world. Before he became one of them.

"Whatever you like." She didn't stop there, however, and he certainly hadn't expected her to. "Is what I would say," he could feel her eyes upon him, despite the missing sight from that portion of his peripherals. It was a prickle of instinct that nearly announced her tracing the curve of his jaw, his cheek with her taunting stare, impish playfulness finely outlined in her voice, rueful smirk accented by the way she spoke. Nuances of her nature he had picked up on that he no longer had to see with his eyes to discern. Things that usually bespoke troubles for him, and he was sure that this time would be no different. "'cept we both know you'd brush that away so instead, you have four choices." At this, he would tilt his head to look at her and the four digits she had raised in accent to her proposal. "Dinner made by yours truly cooked to your likin'." He nodded, he enjoyed her cooking, certainly, and he almost found himself immediately agreeing to this option before she continued on. "A relaxin' day by the lake. I buy a bolt of cloth and sew you some new clothes." He listened to her choices offered, the last, however, caught him by surprise, and he would angle his head once more, but this time it was away as she voiced it. "Or a kiss from your wife."

His wife. The notion brought him to rub his thumb unconsciously against the gilded band of his left hand through the leather of his glove. Twice she'd referred to herself as such today, a prospect that made him feel... uneasy. Uncertain. Their vows had, in no way, been very willing. Had he known he would return home to nothing, he would have most likely never answered the summons to begin with, but in the end, he had followed orders like the well trained dog his father had raised him to be. It was an odd thing now, to be back within familiar lands and territories, but a stranger within them, change so vast happening in the short time he had been away. No longer did he have a lord to serve, no longer did his days here have rigid schedules and procedures to adhere by. It made him glad she'd chosen to accompany him after all. She kept his thoughts from straying, from becoming dull or whatever else may occur. What would he be doing had she not come across the sea with him? "May I be selfish?" he began quietly. "May I chose more than one?"

Within the halls of God divine, their marriage was very much a farce, an elaborate ruse to appease the greater powers that harboured their surnames. Two fathers striking a bargain; two children nought but pawns in politics. It'd never been so much as consummated - their marriage - nor mentioned beyond their company. Some here in Sanctuary knew that her male companion had a wife whether living or estranged. It would be quite believable that Dimitris was a widower but how many of them suspected that it was Ethel's ring that he wore? That it was his which was tucked deep in the plunge of her cleavage hidden from all but tender flesh? Regardless of the communities speculations, only they knew the truth behind their vows. Mere words were spoken at gunpoint; words that bore no weight or measure. Still, she could not resist the temptation to tease him with that title. Wife. But she felt the way he tensed, how he turned away, and her expression soured at the thought of upsetting him. Despite all their differences in thought and practice, Ethel considered him a close friend. A friend whose company she greatly valued. One whose presence always elevated her moods and made her aspire to become a better version of lady Ethel Markai. A friend who made her heart flutter with uncertainty, with profound sensations she'd yet to name or recognize. "May I be selfish?" She looked at him with delight, delight that she'd not overly offended him. "May I choose more than one?" Her expression was tinged with rapt admiration. "If that's what you want then of course!" Chipper energy was released in the trilling chuckle of her voice. When one went to describe Dimitris, selfish was not the word that came to mind so it was startling - pleasantly so - to hear him wishing to be now. ‘All that we see or seem’, ‘Is but a dream within a dream.

Jahi

Their marriage was fake, a wooden nickel passed as silver. Enough for their sires, well enough for the public that she had hailed from, but he had had no intentions of holding her to those vows. He'd wanted her to continue her life without pause or change, to ignore the false promises they had exchanged and the bands of matrimony. A thing only he wore now, though he himself had been the one to insist that she not brandish it if she didn't want. To sell it, should she need gold. Perhaps she did. He would brush its smooth surface again, a small and indecipherable movement among his gloves. He'd told her that. He'd said it and he'd meant it, but...

He would mute the sigh that he felt building at the gates of his lips. "If that's what you want then of course!" Her words were chipper, without restraint or regulation, earnest in their intonation. "Alright." He gave a slight nod. "I'd like to have three then." He would look back towards her once more, judging her reaction, to see if perhaps he did indeed ask too much of her. "Dinner, down by the lake." An entire day to themselves, just the two of them. An oddity in and of itself. He buried himself in work since their arrival here. To busy himself and distract his thoughts away from his decimated homeland and family. He felt as if he had barely lain sight on her since then, yet another possible precaution he had reasoned.

He hadn't wanted to impede on her new life here, just the same as before. She had made herself a successful business as it would turn out, teaching the very thing she loved to do. There was a quiet part of him, however, that abhorred the sight of the very thing he had seen today. An ugly and malicious feeling that welled within his chest without restraint at her most common pupil. He didn't like him. Didn't like the way he looked at her. Didn't like the way he lingered far too close even after the music had stopped. Didn't like the way he stared after her, watched her. Didn't like the way he looked at him. He wondered if she noticed too. If she had, was it simply acceptable to her? Was it... Was it preferred? After all, she was his wife. Was that just another taunt, however? A joke that left him lacking for want of better word, as she often declared humor did.

A soft grunt of dismissal left him, nipping roughly at the pad of his thumb that lingered near his mouth before lowering his hand. "As for the third," he began again, uncertain, unwilling, to give his true want, "I'll leave that up to you." He remembered their first and only kiss. The awkwardness of it, the tension that had come with it from both of them. Her mouth warm, soft as she always had been to him since. She was gentle, kind. Maybe too much so. Regardless, that hushed part of him that harbored such ill intent towards her student also wanted that indulgence again. Genuinely, this time, however, without the threat of repercussion if she didn't. Without them being hostages of ceremony and politics. From his wife. But was she? He was married, yes, but was she? If it was a jest, what would she say to him asking for it? Questions he didn't want to be answered.

There wasn't much in this world that could unnerve the brazen Ethel, a girl who had spent her childhood terrorizing the poor maids with her devilish antics. From wrangling frogs to hide in the cooks' pots to teasing the neighbour children, many wondered if lord Jothan and lady Elizabeth truly had a daughter or if they paraded their son around in skirts. Even when she began to grow into a woman she'd never abandon that impish nature. How was it, then, that through her iron courage, through all her years of tricks and traps, Ethel's heart thrummed violently against her ears at the idea of having dinner - alone - with her husband? She realized that it beat with gleeful solace because he had not rejected her. If anything, he seemed almost wanting of her company. Her smile was wide and true along the arched curve of her mouth. A mouth whose softness glistened beneath the fading ruby paint. One that wondered if, of these four choices, he'd embrace. "As for the third, I'll leave that up to you." Ethel looked up from the path with a thousand questions dancing behind her eyes. Eyes that studied what she could of his face. None of those thoughts was spoken, each of them racing violent circles throughout her head. Instead of giving them a voice, she pushed them aside and settled for the warm splay of a smile and the charming lilt of her acceptance. "I've some lovely parsnips from one of the hunter's wives that I could use." Her gaze drifted to the bright blue of the sky as her dinner agenda was spoken aloud. "And there's still the venison in the cellar. Perhaps a stew? Or would you prefer a roast?" After all, the meal was for him; a token of her gratitude for all that he'd done since their entanglement. As quickly as her thoughts were spoken so too did they stray. The merchant's sector came fully into view in a vast array of colour and noise. Flags whipped in the wind. Coins jingled in pouches. Above all else, people spoke. Each grew more vibrantly alluring as they neared its core. Vendors called out their wares and the cost. Patrons examined what was brandished on the carts from fresh squash to glittering jewels tucked behind store windows. There was one building, however, that had caught Ethel's eye. In its window stood headless mannequins, each displaying lovely dresses that any noble lady would envy to wear. Dresses that would surely be more than their coin combined. "Let's look for another shop." There was almost a hint of disappointment in her tone. "One that isn't so expensive." ‘All that we see or seem’, ‘Is but a dream within a dream.

Jahi

She was quiet for a long moment, but there was a genuine smile placed along the curve of her lips. Despite himself, he couldn't help the lopsided grin that tilted his mouth. Had she just expected him to take food and perhaps the new shirts? For some reason, the realization that perchance that had been her line of thought was amusing to him. That maybe for once he had done something one couldn't just call predictable, as was his normal behaviors, a creature of habit and single track thought. He also didn't miss that she gave no indication as to what option she would chose either.

"I've some lovely parsnips from one of the hunter's wives that I could use." She announced after a prolonged pause. "And there's still the venison in the cellar. Perhaps a stew? Or would you prefer a roast?" A soft hum reverberated within his chest with the askance, consideration poised around the transportation of the food as well. A single pot and the few dishes and utensils they would need would be a good bit easier to take with them than several containers of food for a roast and sides, he assumed at least. "A stew, I think." He affirmed aloud. "I think that would be easier."

Distraction came, however, in the form of the marketplace unfurling before them. He watched from the corner of his eye as her own widened, her attention snared by a nearby window. Following her gaze, he saw the dressed wooden dolls parading the elegant gowns adorned on their figures. Silks and fabric alike, a distinction of differences, though the craftsmanship of each seemed comparatively the same. Was this the store she often times visited? Or was there another that she usually browsed the wares of? "Let's look for another shop." She sounded.... upset by her own request, causing a slight frown to turn his lips. He tilted his head at her in soft confusion. "Don't you like these?" He inquired before she would finish alas. "One that isn't so expensive." He glanced back to the goods displayed behind protective glass, but his footing didn't change. In fact, he would pull her attention back to it with a soft nudge. "Just look. See if there's one you like." His insistence was hushed as he lightly brushed the hand she held onto his elbow with as he opened the door to allow her entrance. 

"A stew fit for two~" Sing-song hum tickled Ethel's lips as they walked along the cobble path that would, inevitably, slope into the heart of the shopping plaza. Sanctuary was a small settlement compared to its neighbours so it was not as lavish or gaudy as many of its patrons were used to. Many of the residents here were refugees of Dunmeath or Lavalles, each fleeing the harsh chains of the red queen. Chains that were slick with mortal blood. With a stroke of great fortune, Ethel had not yet suffered so cruel a fate. The future was uncertain, untameable. That was why she found great comfort in the dagger upon her hip and the stalwart man at her side. As long as she had both, there was little to concern herself with. That was until coin was involved, that is. At her hesitance he questioned, perplexed as much as she at this sudden abashment at shopping. When it came to the nicety of cloth, it was unlike her to shy away from it. Why did she pause now? "Don't you like these?" Of course she did and a nod was given to confirm it. She adored the way the light glistened on the emeralds and the sapphires that were elegantly sewn into the neckline of the gown. Ethel found herself staring overly long at the soft sheen of the satin fabric used to create one of the powder blue dresses. Then the throes of imagination wondered how it would feel to dance in that dress; she wondered if he would like it. He encouraged her, rather, pulled her towards it with an open door and a gentle grip. "I suppose there's no harm in just lookin', right?" Delicate fingers brushed against the soft, pillow fabric and with some reluctance, she'd release the hold on Dimitris' elbow to better investigate one of the dresses. She investigated the seam work; admired the craftsmanship that went into such elaborate clothing. Here, Ethel was in her element. Among all of the niceties and the wooden figurines, Ethel froze when her eyes met with the coral red dress. Compared to the others here it was rather... plain, though this did not distract from its elegance. Embroidered flowers drew attention to the hem, the neckline, the chest and the arms. She reached out to touch the sheer red lace that covered the coral silk beneath it as if such a motion could shatter the dress into irreparable shards. ‘All that we see or seem’, ‘Is but a dream within a dream.

Jahi

In truth, the first time he had seen the stalls here in their various primes of permanency and otherwise, he had been surprised. True, they were far from the vibrant displays of Dunmeath, or any of the other holds he had been familiar with. He and his family had even once made the passage into Crue Efros when he was but a child, a trip that escaped his memory for the most part, though he remembered the taste of the sugary confections his mother had shared with him while his father had attended to whatever business he had deemed worth. That was before the assassination of Odersten's crown prince. That was before he had lost his eye. Before he lost the majority of his sense of taste. That was before he had the strength required to properly hold a blade. Before the flames of war had singed the already taut fabric between neighbors and nations. When Lavalles had foolishly thought they had ascertained their freedom, only to be truly placed in chains, ones that had never truly been lifted, only a heavier more binding pair revealed from the obscurity of the shadows. Trading one tyrant for another. One that was not content with a single city. One who's avarice was turned on the whole world that surrounded her.

He shifted his weight as she spoke, almost cautiously. "I suppose there's no harm in just lookin', right?" He gave a light grunt of what one could only assume to be agreement as he watched her survey the wares. Her fingertips danced over the various fabrics and their details. She flipped the seams over, her nails running over the threads that bound them, thoroughly pouring over the quality of their making. He'd been surprised by the markets here, but in a way glad for their flourishing. He'd been tentative at first to move her to this place, far from the rest of the civilizations, hidden in a valley away from the prying eyes of the lands outside. He knew her to talkative, bright, and his largest fears had been that she would loathe it here. That it would be so different or the people too hard, too difficult for her to get along with. He wanted her to be safe from the world he had grown up in. He wanted her to avoid the plague of war and its Red Queen, but he hadn't wanted to lock her away in a forlorn tower where she would feel a prisoner either.

He felt that Sanctuary had surprisingly offered a good medium. Her instructing sessions seemed to be going well (as it wasn't always Reades he found in her company) and she seemed to have woven her way in with some of those local faces as well. Dailry and her family for example. He leaned against the wall near the door as she departed his side completely, arms folding comfortably over the span of his chest as he idly watched her. His head inclined vaguely as she seemed to notice the soft carmine gown that stood against the dark wall near the back. Her eyes widened slightly and she gravitated towards it, her attention running its length as a tentative hand reached out to brush her fingertips over the uppermost layer of its covering. The seamstress at the counter finished tying the petite box of the shops' other patron before lifting the bar and making her way around the counter. "Something caught your eye, Miss?" she would inquire, her tone upbeat, as she gave a customary, welcoming beam.