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An eyebrow arched over Melek’s eye when Amarante spoke of her Lady's difficulty after the war. Of course, Faelyn had never elaborated what she had truly been through, so he was surprised that he did not learn of it before this moment. He would make note of it and ask the Queen of the Fortunate Isle about it directly. Now, however, he was completely absorbed in listening to what Amarante had to say; or perhaps what was more useful to him, what she was not saying.
"I see, " Melek nodded," Faelyn was not so forthcoming about her ordeals." He knew that the woman had, no doubt, been labelled a collaborator because of him. "The evidence and your diligence had something to do with, I am sure," he said.
"From there I took my first walk through the veil across the overland to the Fortunate Isles where I trained until I was in my twenties; and for the next several decades I, I lived alone in private study. I only returned to this place some few years ago it seems."
He listened to her speak judiciously about her time on the Isle itself, no doubt she had been through her Rite of Becoming already, or she would not be in her current position. Traditions, especially among the Sidhe that populated the Fortunate Isle were deep set. He would not tell her that he had been watching her during that private study time, nor would he mention that his interest in this particular descendant of Marie LaGarde had never waned. Even Faelyn herself knew of it, but he wondered if she had remained silent of his interest to Amarante.
"Seems? " he latched on to her last word, " our kind come and go between the realms of existence to such a degree that time seems to speed up and slow down for us. Tell me, my dear, have you learned to command that yet?" he winked at her, teasing a little in an effort to lighten the mood. He was determined that she would relax and hopefully feel safe enough with him to be herself.
The flight attendant had gracefully, soundlessly returned to where the two of them were seated, bringing the champagne magnum in a bucket of ice with her. "We will be arriving at LAX in about fifteen minutes, ya ustez, ya anessa, " she said in her low, sultry voice, "The captain said he does not anticipate any turbulence, therefore it is no problem with this remaining with you until we arrive." Melek only acknowledged her with a nod and as unnoticably as she had come, she seemed to disappear once again.
"I have made arrangements with a very special, very exclusive chef today for our brunch," he said, "and if you approve, he is the one whom I hope to help me select the chef of our future endeavor."
With interest, Amarante had watched the interplay between Melek and his servant, Amarante's eyes coolly admired the other woman's form and enjoying the lilt of her voice.
When she was gone, Amarante held out her now-empty glass. "Would you be so kind, monsieur? It would be a shame to let such a grand bottle go unopened, even though we may not be able to finish it all." She watched him uncork the bottle then spoke carefully. "And I doubt highly that I could disprove of your choices, monsieur. You have such exquisite taste."
He gave a small chuckle at her compliment and might have preened if it were possible to do so in his current form. "Indeed? I am glad you think so. However, if you were ever at any time afraid of me, my dear, I believe this particular chef would make me look rather docile by comparison." His eyes danced with a certain merriment. "We shall be dining at Gordon Ramsay at the London in West Hollywood," Melek said as if it were an every day occurrence. "He said that he was most anxious to meet you."
"It is most admirable for you to downplay your involvement, but think, my dear," he said as he carefully uncorked the bottle of champagne. He took the glass that she held out to him and began refilling it. "Your lady chose you because of not only your talents but your heart and your loyalty, I am sure."
Amarante's smile had warmed Melek in a way that was unique only to him. Only the over-religious would have said that demons and Fae did not possess such niceties. They did; it was just not in a way that mere mortals could understand. "And if you could return, mademoiselle, would you do so?” he asked. “I am not unfamiliar with those places, as I am sure you realize. We will undoubtedly traverse them together at some point in the future."
It was a simple statement, not a flirtatious one, as if it were a forgone statement of fact. "Time does not exist in your valley, Amarante, except in the harvests that come from there. You do well by your Lady and her Lord."
No wonder the creatures of Deepmoor and the Fae realms clung so tightly to her, the colour in her cheeks all but glowed and Melek was pleased to see the easing of her demeanor at last. In spite of her past trauma that had cut her so deeply, she had not lost her mind nor had her soul become twisted and broken as some might have.
Muse: MelekTaus
Fandom: Folklore / Muthology
Word Count: 917
"I see, " Melek nodded," Faelyn was not so forthcoming about her ordeals." He knew that the woman had, no doubt, been labelled a collaborator because of him. "The evidence and your diligence had something to do with, I am sure," he said.
"From there I took my first walk through the veil across the overland to the Fortunate Isles where I trained until I was in my twenties; and for the next several decades I, I lived alone in private study. I only returned to this place some few years ago it seems."
He listened to her speak judiciously about her time on the Isle itself, no doubt she had been through her Rite of Becoming already, or she would not be in her current position. Traditions, especially among the Sidhe that populated the Fortunate Isle were deep set. He would not tell her that he had been watching her during that private study time, nor would he mention that his interest in this particular descendant of Marie LaGarde had never waned. Even Faelyn herself knew of it, but he wondered if she had remained silent of his interest to Amarante.
"Seems? " he latched on to her last word, " our kind come and go between the realms of existence to such a degree that time seems to speed up and slow down for us. Tell me, my dear, have you learned to command that yet?" he winked at her, teasing a little in an effort to lighten the mood. He was determined that she would relax and hopefully feel safe enough with him to be herself.
The flight attendant had gracefully, soundlessly returned to where the two of them were seated, bringing the champagne magnum in a bucket of ice with her. "We will be arriving at LAX in about fifteen minutes, ya ustez, ya anessa, " she said in her low, sultry voice, "The captain said he does not anticipate any turbulence, therefore it is no problem with this remaining with you until we arrive." Melek only acknowledged her with a nod and as unnoticably as she had come, she seemed to disappear once again.
"I have made arrangements with a very special, very exclusive chef today for our brunch," he said, "and if you approve, he is the one whom I hope to help me select the chef of our future endeavor."
With interest, Amarante had watched the interplay between Melek and his servant, Amarante's eyes coolly admired the other woman's form and enjoying the lilt of her voice.
When she was gone, Amarante held out her now-empty glass. "Would you be so kind, monsieur? It would be a shame to let such a grand bottle go unopened, even though we may not be able to finish it all." She watched him uncork the bottle then spoke carefully. "And I doubt highly that I could disprove of your choices, monsieur. You have such exquisite taste."
He gave a small chuckle at her compliment and might have preened if it were possible to do so in his current form. "Indeed? I am glad you think so. However, if you were ever at any time afraid of me, my dear, I believe this particular chef would make me look rather docile by comparison." His eyes danced with a certain merriment. "We shall be dining at Gordon Ramsay at the London in West Hollywood," Melek said as if it were an every day occurrence. "He said that he was most anxious to meet you."
"It is most admirable for you to downplay your involvement, but think, my dear," he said as he carefully uncorked the bottle of champagne. He took the glass that she held out to him and began refilling it. "Your lady chose you because of not only your talents but your heart and your loyalty, I am sure."
Amarante's smile had warmed Melek in a way that was unique only to him. Only the over-religious would have said that demons and Fae did not possess such niceties. They did; it was just not in a way that mere mortals could understand. "And if you could return, mademoiselle, would you do so?” he asked. “I am not unfamiliar with those places, as I am sure you realize. We will undoubtedly traverse them together at some point in the future."
It was a simple statement, not a flirtatious one, as if it were a forgone statement of fact. "Time does not exist in your valley, Amarante, except in the harvests that come from there. You do well by your Lady and her Lord."
No wonder the creatures of Deepmoor and the Fae realms clung so tightly to her, the colour in her cheeks all but glowed and Melek was pleased to see the easing of her demeanor at last. In spite of her past trauma that had cut her so deeply, she had not lost her mind nor had her soul become twisted and broken as some might have.
Muse: MelekTaus
Fandom: Folklore / Muthology
Word Count: 917
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