Shadow Hearts

The light of day was fading, fading. Disappearing into the lengthening shadows of the trees and buildings of the nobility district. Daechir's kitchen however wasn't terribly dark thanks to the indoor lighting, but it was more than dark enough for the comfort of the two mul'niessia currently enjoying one another's company within it.

Dinner consisted largely of a meatless pasta, bread which was if not freshly baked then warmed in the oven and buttered with seasonings and cheese to give it some extra flavor. There was even desert sitting out on the island to cool. A small pie, not made by Daed, but warmed in the oven like the bread before it.

Now, the pair sat comfortably at the dinner table, food portioned out but not yet eaten, a bottle of wine between them breathing and poured out into glasses. Daed mixed the pasta with the sauce a little on his plate before tentatively trying a bite. "Well, not a masterpiece, but certainly better than I could have managed myself." He was being modest really, he clearly knew his way around the kitchen, and though he was no real chef, he could manage well enough for himself.

Aya did assist as able, even though it primarily consisted of holding, fetching, and/or moving items as required... and possibly recognizing when to stay out of the way. She need not sample anything with a tentative sniff, nor wonder of the ingredients, given that she was involved or immediately present in the preparation. There is some relief in that, and she appears more relaxed than prior; not a held neutral, but much more at actual ease.

"It is far better fare than some of the inns could manage," she opines as she gives her own plate a brief stir followed by a bite. Some evaluatory chewing before she consumes the bite. "It also tastes as good as it smells, if not better. Were you any better, I expect that I would not be dining here." She gestures with her fork about the table, perhaps the room. "You would have a flock of women at each arm and then around the table. There would be no room for me."

Daed laughed at these words, shaking his head. "Then count me glad that I have no such skill, for I would prefer your company to that of a flock of women who wanted me only for my skills in the kitchen." He laughs again and meets her gaze solidly. "I am a man who prefers a quality of company over a quantity of it."

Aya takes another bite as she listens, washing it down with her first sip of the wine. It's over the glass that she meets his gaze. After returning glass to table, she nods, one corner of her lip rising. "So, you are a man with taste, then. The food, the wine, the tailor... I am quite impressed." Regardless of her personal battle with that garment, it did not lack in quality.

The mul'niessa man smiles with quiet pleasure, his expression giving away somewhat his feelings on the matter. As is a fact with him however, even his more pleasant expressions are quick to fade from his features. For all his attempts at expressiveness, his training renders him calm in demeanor. "If I have impressed you, then I have done well. I think you not an easy woman to sway the attention of."

"Not particularly easy, no," Aya concurs, if in part. She pauses for a bite or two and more wine. "I am curious. For you, when did an asset, a pleasant diversion, a business acquaintance, whatever they were, become ... more?" He mentioned dealing with this same ...situation as she, before.

Daed doesn't answer immediately, but rather pushes his food on his plate a bit. "I suppose... For me it was when I felt comfortable enough to share my past with her, and she responded not only with kindness, but the pleasant surprise of understanding. She looked at me and did not give me pity, but the knowledge that I was not alone. And... I had been for so many years so terribly lonely." He smiles, but it's a sad smile this time. She might - belatedly - realize that he's talking about her.

Aya awaits through his reorganization patiently, looking to him intently and attentively, yet not with judgement. She nods at several points in agreement. "Pity is useless. Empowerment is strength. You are not alo..." Her word trails off at a thought.

One that is considered as she, now, adjusts the arrangement of pasta, though she does not lower her eyes fully. -Obviously- the chef did so for a reason, to further enhance the dish... A brow arches, "Did you ever reveal this to her? Did she recognize this?"

He meets her gaze with his own red eyes. "I fear that I waited quite some time to tell her. It never seemed like quite the right time, and I worried that my feelings would not be reciprocated. I can not be sure that she recognized my feelings, but I think... that until I mentioned it that she failed to realize her own importance to me. It is a shame because she is a truly remarkable woman."

There are certainly things churning in Aya's eyes. Curiosity? Confusion? Hope? Evaluation? Somewhere in there her plate, glass, and utensil are forgotten. When options do coalesce, her gaze on his firms, as does her posture and she leans forward some. A hand lifts to point a finger at him for further emphasis. "You should not be ashamed of nor fearful of who you are, nor your desires. There are times for serpentine conversation... yet other times for direct action, Daed."

Daed reaches out, catching her hand and pulling her arm toward himself so that he can with a quick twist twine his fingers with his. It's a skillful little dance. "I am not ashamed, nor fearful. Not any longer at least. If you would have me speak plainly then I will." He rises, bends over the table and kisses the top of her hand. Gently. With all formality. "I would have your favor if you would give it." He looks at her over the table, his eyes deadly serious, but soft. "For I have never thought of you as just a diversion or aquaintance - from the first you stood in my home I have wanted your heart."

Nascent yet already scalded raw feelings scream YES! Instincts and justifiable paranoia shout NO! Aya is in a stupor for several moments as her thoughts defy the very same advice that she just gave not a few seconds past... and then she consciously realizes as much. She cannot make herself a hypocrite, now can she?

Via their entwined fingers, with strength of arm and a shifting of her own weight, she pulls him to her. Bodily, prone across the table to grasp his shirt front to continue to her. Once he's there, she returns the kiss given before. Not to his hand, but properly and energetically, if utterly lacking in formality or propriety.

After several heartbeats, she releases his lips only to answer, "I would give it." Simply to be clear and formal.

He chuckles at her words, but his eyes are full of dark pleasure. "I should have said something /ages/ ago." He says, and not without humor. His free hand wraps around her head and he pulls her back in for another kiss. This time shorter, but no less sweet. He pulls away laughing, and teasing. "If I had I might have saved our meal. And my clothes."

He looks down pointedly to where he is quite sprawled across their food, and his clothing is now rumpled and food-ladened.

For perhaps the first time, Aya presents him with a full, wide smile. Reaching her eyes, even, it brightens her countenance regardless of her complexion. She regards him for a significant time at point-blank range; crimson eyes, the arch of his brows, the cut of his cheeks... as if studying him in depth for the first time, or seeking to memorize each feature. The hand on his shirt shifts to cup his cheek.

Then, another change not seen in full for a number of days occurs. One corner of her smile twists further, wryly.

"There is always dessert, and you will not need your clothes for that."

Daechir purrs at her words, a low masculine noise as he arches one of those dark eyebrows for her. "I like the sound of that."

-End