EXT - Seiiki Temple to INT - Windgrace Manor
Dorian had come to the Seiiki temple to meet the Lady Esher, and pay a friendly visit in a spot of her choosing. Upon arrival, in usual form he bore a handful of flowers in gift, and kept behind his back the sprigs of wrapped gypsophilia in colours quite unusual for baby's breath which usually ran white as cotton. She'd make a relatively easy figure to spot, and upon his approach she might note his hair growing out to a just shy of damp curling flop that was brushed at some point. (Likely by his sister or her behest). He was clean shaven and clean and did not smell of horse so much as vetiver and pepper. His gait was an easy one that unlike usual was borne along without a song out of reverence for the sacred space.
Lady Llywellynn Devoreaux Esher: Lady Esher was in the Shinto temple today to meet with Dorian and for her own reasons. She had arrived early to test a theory.
The enigma of her presentation was no less diminished by her current behavior, so prim and proper her slim straight posture, clad in the armor of her widow's black of such understated lines, the wide brim of her hat veiling her delicate face to give no hint of her current mood, and yet she moved with even more steely purpose today. Her abiding frailities did not bite as deep this day at least. She felt such relief stepping upon its warded boundaries, the sanctuary this place offered was more than just spiritual for her. Doing so granted her a cessation of much of the ambient horror of ashen sky and ruined earth and all the restless wailing of their fates. In the relative calm of the temple Llyw hoped she could try the advice of Hector and Lucas again where she could more fully concentrate without distraction, if only for a moment. Though of course there was no way in hell she would ever take all of Hector's advice. Running naked in the woods was NOT an option. Not on this isle especially.
Unusally her gloves were off, the black lace no longer covering her thin pale fingers and she had her palm laid upon the rough bark of one of the trees gracing the temple grounds. Its surface was grey, dry and brittle to her, unlike the sturdy sun warmed brown everyone else knew, but she tried to find the connection to nature the redhaired vampire had described to her. She was off to the side of the main area at least, somewhat out of view from the general crowd, so as not to draw too much attention. Communing with trees was not truly out of the question for the faithful here at least.
Esher had lost track of time attempting to focus on the living aspect of the tree under her hand, trying to tap into what dwelled in her just out of reach. A low humming tune slipped from her lips unthinking, the melody of Summertime slow and soft in the cadence of her bluesy hometown. A sound decadent and leisurely at odds with her stiff British demeanor otherwise. As ever, the Lady was a series of quiet contradictions as she pursued her somewhat mysterious ambitions in Callisto.
She was as yet unaware of the deathless lordling's approach in fact, sunk deep for the moment in her odd experiment. Her scent clung around her sweetly as a garden of its own. She seemed slightly more energetic from the last he had seen her and certainly most definitely sober, despite her current activity. Dorian would likely have to choose the route of breaking her concentration in whatever gentlemanly way he thought best.
Dorian: || Upon approach of the widow he'd quietly listen to her song and watch as he was a few steps shy of her and clear his throat from that distance a few armslengths distant. He'd let her know what he guessed of her activity after clearing his throat, calling to her in his urbane gravel raised just above a whisper's level, "They are nice to touch, are they not? Strong beings, they see so much. If we let them live long enough anyway." As he saw it, the tree could be a hundred or two hundred years old.
He yet held the bouquet behind him, offering a playful smile and a warm one that lit up his face entire, right up to the silvery eyes endeavoring to catch glimpses of a countenance so often obscured by hats and social masquerade.
Lady Llywellynn Devoreaux Esher: Llyw was lost in the inner workings of her mind, searching for that elusive flare of power to try to summon forth while she felt the faint reflection of warmth from the sun on the bark she touched. But she could not grasp upon that unruly inner dark at will. Only when her life was in peril did her meager ability rise to the challenge so far. The tree's surface continued to feel more of the Otherside than she had hoped, ash crumbling soft as baby powder under her fingertips if she lingered much longer.
There were good reasons she always wore gloves, always covered as much of herself as possible, beyond the expected strictures of high society. Everything she touched felt so thoroughly unpleasant, leached of life, dry as bone and ashen silt of the constant tide of the restless dead wailing in the grey wasteland across the Veil. All except what was beyond the reach of death...
The Lady startled, hearing a throat clearing politely near her, just as she felt the skin tingling presence pressing on her awareness she had come to recognize. The eyes of eternity lookng through her from wings of golden light, she could feel them without needing to use her own eyes. She had forgotten the time, lifting her hat's edge towards the gold and silver hued eldritch being she always Saw so bright in her vision. Her pale lips gave a soft smile for his playful one, lifting her hand from its hold to give greeting. "Oh, Dorian!" She exclaimed slightly louder than usual, her true drawl still lingering as she turned to welcome him, "Oh goodness, forgive me. I lost track of time. I am so glad to see you again. How have you been?"
She stepped slightly closer to tilt her head back and smile up at him, almost beaming in fact to light up her pallid countenance, clearly happy to see her friend, no matter how arcane his presence upon her senses.
Dorian could not conceive anyone seeing him as he truly was past the veil, it was a new form to him, against the long days of his life, and Llyw was always so sanguine about it. He'd continue to act like he was the simple lordling he imagined himself to be, and hand over the little bunch of blooms for her to take, toned in an impossible colour of purple budding flowers in a cloudlike spray. And he'd bow as he made the offer, in his old-fashioned way. "M'lady Llyw, was that Summertime? I hope the living is easy. Easier than it has been for you, mine own surely is."
He'd show her a look then that faded to plain concern and he would endeavor to lean a little closer, asking quickly and quiet, "Luca is not who haunts you, is he? But he is a help? If you will forgive my being so forward." A nod punctuated, solemn and inviting.
Lady Llywellynn Devoreaux Esher: Llywelllynn gestured somewhat shyly to the tree, her unclad hand pale and sunless as her face and lace enclosed neck, feeling the need to explain in her soft whisper, "I suppose my attempt might have looked odd...I was advised to get in touch with nature to help me regain my energy. I am not sure if I can however, though I am still trying." An answer that likely engendered more questions if Dorian's inquiries were piqued enough of her unusual circumstances.
As ever Dorian's gallant manner always charmed Llywellynn with ease. She accepted his bow and offer of lovely flowers of such a striking hue with grace, her bare fingers just shy of contact in the exchange except for his unnatural warmth reaching her, reminding her yet again of his true nature. The color scheme of his outfit was quite complementary though she could only perceive his true colorings in match, the blond curls on his brow perhaps holding an unearthly sheen as well that others would never witness. Overall Dorian was a glory to behold in deathless perfection no matter what he might choose to wrap around himself. She met his silver eyes though he could not in turn see her blighted ones, gazing upon his light as a bright beacon in the dreary gloom she lived in, even though her eyes ached to do so.
She laughed then at his wit, a small quiet sound of joy, rare and fleeting from this Lady so usually glum, bringing the purple spray of gypsophilia to her chest where they gave off such vibrancy against the severe black. The tiny blossoms stayed unwilted, much like his previous bouquet, a small miracle for her, a simple thing yet so outsized of a pleasure for her due to rarity. Her cheeks gained a warm bloom of color now, easily seen with her fair complexion, her hat tilted back to see him due to his greater height. "Indeed, good sir...The living is I suppose easier than when we first met, in no small part to your kindness. I am glad you are well too." She murmured with only a hint of breathlessness, her speech pattern much more steady today. Another sign she was doing better overall perhaps.
Llyw's smile faded slightly when Dorian leaned in with his questions, though the expression was for the topic rather than him. She unbent from her polite manner to sigh slightly but she chose to give honesty for the occasion of the lordling finally expressing his curosities, "Not at all, please ask of me what you will. I should think you ought to know what you wish of me by now. Luca is...away on a mission he said. For now he is no longer in my employ as bodyguard. I...will likely need to find someone else suitable for the role. I have been informed more than once that I...might be danger here in fact."
Again she spoke easily today, though perhaps in no small measure to the fact of their location, sheltered as it was from what usually plagued her without cease. She had wanted somewhere quiet enough she could attend to her friend's conversation more comfortably. Though there were not many places to sit in these environs unfortunately. In any case, the Lady
Lady Llywellynn Devoreaux Esher: appeared
Lady Llywellynn Devoreaux Esher: * n any case, the Lady appeared in the mood to answer questions if the Lord had more of them. "What haunts me is...more complicated. And a danger to me I'm afraid..."
Llywellynn Devoreaux (llywellynndevoreaux): *"Indeed, good sir...The flowers are lovely! the living is I suppose easier
Dorian thought on it a moment, and in his way of trying problem solve, explained in that same quiet purl, "Then I am glad you have the key to the shop. Drystan's thoughts were good ones. Do you want one of our men? We can reassign one of our divers, perhaps to cover for Mr. Luca. Set up a meeting. In fact I know a young lady who is not only quick with her knife, but whose need for spectacles has slowed her down underwater. If you should like, I can ask if Hiromi would pay you a call?"
He'd move then just to put his palm on the tree, he felt bark, he felt the rugged outcropping of tree skin that had scarred out from it's sapling form to it's glorious branches of the present day. "They give us everything you know, from parchment, to boats, to fire, to homes... not to mention fruit. The spectacles of fall and spring, shade..." He got in touch with nature almost daily, riding through the woods, not to hunt, but for sport, for the view, for the invigoration, and because he'd made a promise to his filly that she'd get to stretch her legs out as often as he had a chance to.
Lady Llywellynn Devoreaux Esher: Llyw noted the divertment of topic again to what was closest at hand to solve, but such was Dorian's way. In any case she was glad for any help regardless. She spoke somewhat closer to normal level here in this safe place, falling back into her light Brit accent, "Oh, certainly, that would be grand of you. I would be happy to meet with Miss Hiromi at her convenience to discuss the matter. I can of course offer generous compensation if she wishes to take on the job."
She had regained her composure while Dorian waxed poetic,laying his glowing hand upon the tree trunk. A hardy specimen of the natural world whose life span would not outlast his, caught as it was in the cycle of life and death he stood beyond. Llwy nodded to his musing,herself unable to appreciate its living nature with her cursed senses. Only he stood out so vivid in her sight. She kept his purple hued gift curled in her pale fingers meanwhile, switching from one hand to the other, letting her cane fall to the loop clasped to her wrist. With her other she went for a cleverly hidden pocket, pulling Dorian's handkerchief out, laundered and crisply folded to present to him across her thin palm.
"I find myself in the benefit of your generousity yet again, kind sir. And of your brother most courteous and kind as well for the key." She smiled up at him, prim mouth bending to a wry curl, soft spoken yet assured, "I wanted to return your favor as pristine as you gave it. Again I apologize for my unbecoming company last we met. I ....was dealing with things poorly at the time." Per her promise she was returning what he had lent her for her drunken tears at the time.
Dorian took his hand from the tree, murmuring, "That way leaflight scatters sunlight and dapples us...." When he turned to face her again, there was wistfulness in his face, something pure in it, like only an extended youth could paint upon ivory and rose features. Pulling himself from that reverie, he'd announce, "Consider it done. I shall speak to Hiromi and tell her to find you at Khymeia. Please do not fret about... ...about your company, M'lady. I only wish there was more I could do to aid you. You are..."
He'd pause there, sniff and then manage to find what he meant to say, "A number of contradictions clad in black, if you do not mind my saying so. Something plainly hangs around you, you are shielded from it best you can, but... I have not the skill to help with such things. I am the dullard of the family. Make no mistake, it pains me to know you are beyond my aid." He'd gestured to her hat and cane when talking shields, and as ever kept his quiet purr just above a whisper as he spoke. Moving to pluck the handkerchief, he'd instead close her palm around it with a large warm hand, and suggest, "Have Hiromi bring that to me if you have need of me, and I shall know it is dire and requires immediate attention, yes?"
Lady Llywellynn Devoreaux Esher: "Please allow me to be of service to you and your family in some way in return. I hope you don't mind I insist." The frail widow nearly grinned at Dorian, a fleeting cheeky impression, perhaps well aware of the dance of stubborn manners that might ensue between them. She appeared enough well rested to maintain this level of discourse for quite awhile today, unlike previous meetings.
Llyw found herself adjusting to Dorian's uncanny presence more easily this time. Perhaps her somewhat improved state of health made it so or perhaps she was just getting used to him. Frankly to all the monsters she found herself in the company of lately. This was just a fact of her life now. Part of the risk and mystery of bringing herself to this isle in the first place. The sheer risk of her being here but she had no choice. There was no turning back on the journey of discovery she was on. She had no time to waste on doubt or second guessing. All that truly mattered was her bid for survival and her allies who might help her.
The arcane being before her was a golden dream of life eternal, the gift of youth that gave his form and features such dazzling artistry was of a cost cast in amber, set in stone impervious to time. Perfect, unearthly, far beyond the realm of death where she stood trapped upon its very threshold, the edge of the howling abyss of it everpresent. He glimmered like a lighthouse to her, distant but warm, in place of the sun she could never see nor feel except by proxy.
She had to finally look away, her eyes protesting the pouring in of his eternal flame, giving instead the swan line of her neck and profile to his wistful poem, his wish of wanting to help her more but unable. His observations were more keen than he knew, what plagued her life to its nearing end.
Dorian's touch however was a revelation.
Llyw's small birdlike hand cupped in his much larger warmer one, the touch of a deathless monster upon the bare skin of the Cursed seer. The heat of his touch melted the chill from her like the sun upon snow...and the world was suddenly bright and hot as well. Esher gasped aloud, her lips falling open as her head fell back, her back shuddering into an arch. Her hidden eyes shocked wide and round as the sunlight of the living world dawned upon her, searing into her deathchoked eyes, burned upon her sunless flesh. Her hand so frail shuddered in his grip and she was falling, her energy melting away like wax, her knees giving way from the touch of the sun at last upon her.
Llywellynn felt the sunshine of the living world for the first time in 10 years, delivered by Dorian's golden timeless hand...
Llywellynn Devoreaux (llywellynndevoreaux): *Her hand so frail shivered in his grip
Dorian: Dorian could not help seeing the change--the very instant change in her and moved swiftly to put himself behind her and an arm around her. All this while yet holding her hand but also easing her to press against his athletic form, not unlike a certain dance step. He did not see for himself the flap of wings that accompanied his sudden, far too sudden for human movement wherein one moment he was across from her and the next holding her up without any real effort. When he was sure he had a hold on her he'd bark to cut through to her consciousness he thought was fainting and fading, "Llyw! Stay with me. Are you hungry, Llyw, you look half starved?!" Though his voice was urgent he had not raised it far. He even managed to check her flowers hadn't fallen; he was just quick enough to catch them if they had done so.
Lady Llywellynn Devoreaux Esher: Llywellynn was barely clinging to awareness, the ambiant heat and light of the world everyone else took for granted overwhelmed her such she was gasping for air as if drowning. Her skin flushed red from the higher temperatures she was so unaccustomed to from living in the cold dark so long. At such close quarters even Dorian's nose would likely pick up on the lush honeysuckle and woodfire fragrance of his friend now.
Llyw was too weak to resist anything Dorian might do to keep her from falling over, vaguely sensing his athletic grace sweeping her up against him, sculpted contours that also contained the sun's radiance on her pressed so close. She was as light and fragile as she looked in his hold, worn down by her Curse to a near weightless shadow of herself. The embrace of his wings, brushing with the fur of arcane fire on her, all the eyes that saw past her very bones into her shivering soul, was what kept her from falling into the blackness of her reeling mind entirely.
Dorian's words were heard as if from a distance, echoing as she fell limp and blinded, until at last his voice was so close and loud to her ears to snap her back to the present. "A..ah...D..Dorian?..What..ah?" Llyw gasped so faintly, lost in the light, squeezing her screaming eyes shut on a flood of tears to spill from the rims down her face. Tears of pain and joy too commingled to seperate, her shock too deep to navigate coherently. She was well past the point of caring about scandal or impropriety now if not before.
The poor Lady was in a swoon now, left helpless in the lordling's arms. His mother's gift tangled in her fingers while his snared the flowers that slipped free as while that fraught connection palm to palm set the world on fire for Llyw. He would likely have to carry her to some sort of safety or arranging for such with his many resources. Taking her indoors from the curious public might seem the best course of action in any case...
Llywellynn Devoreaux (llywellynndevoreaux): *all while
Dorian pulled her up into a bridal carry, guiding her arms around his shoulders before reaching to lift her legs in one arm and loop his other around her back. There was still plenty of occasion for chaste enough contact, given their proximity. What she might not have hoped for but received was a courier who could jog her home, jostling her minimally. He'd sing to her along the way, not realizing how it was showing off that he was not breathless, "My sister she taught me how to read. Sister she taught me how to read, if I don't read and my soul be lost, nobody's fault but mine." His singing voice was a resonant low purl as she knew, and he kept it up, however repetitively until he burst through the doors of home, and called, "Keiko, please, bring us a cool cloth and some bread, cheese, butter, honey and... and an apple!"
He'd order this while carrying Llywellynn to the couch and easing her down. "We will remedy your lack of breakfast soon, won't we, m'lady?" He had managed to also vouchsafe her hat while the running began which he'd replace into her keeping once she was no longer in arms.
Lady Llywellynn Devoreaux Esher: No doubt the sight of the dashing blond Windgrace carrying the eccentric slim widow across town from the District to his manse might be notable for the tongue waggers in town. From the widow's perspective however she was barely aware of anything but of being borne aloft by the winged flame of her friend, light as a feather in his arms, until such time as his hand left hers. All else between them was most likely guarded by layers of fabric as had always been the case until her choice to go gloveless today.
Once contact was broken in any case, she fell back into the dark of her senses whilst carried off by the kind monster. One who had inflicted her with such an unexpected sudden gift of *light* into her sunless world. Dorian's purring song was a golden thread for her consciousness to cling to, heard above the wailing fray of the dead teeming on the Victorian side of town. She was too much in disarray to make note of his ability to hold the tune without a hitch despite the steady swift pace of his legs to bring his guest into the cool quiet wards of his home. Out from under the harsh blaze of the outdoors however brief the revelation had lasted and laid out carefully upon the couch, only then did Llywellynn begin to revive.
Her fingers did go in search of the brim of her hat, a habitual reflex that thankfully Dorian met with the deliverance of it to her. She dragged in deep breaths, slight chest rising and falling to regain some sort of equiliburum from the tipping over of her worldsview. She turned her head at last towards his voice, for the moment still actually blinded, whispering out of breath, "Ah....Dorian? Are...you..alright? What..happened? Where are...we?"
She in fact couldn't see anything but flaring afterimages of the shining sphere she had not laid her eyes on in a decade.
Dorian explained quietly, coolly and calm, though quickly to bring her up to speed, as he settled unceremoniously on the carpet beside her, "My dear friend! You... I brought you to mine own home. I knew that you seemed to like it here, and it is safe. Shall I send for a doctor? We're soon to have refreshment."
He'd peer at her, up and down searchingly, but he was no medic of any sort. He could explain, though, "We had been at the Seiiki Shinto temple and you went faint, m'lady. What can I give you... this, mayhap?" His trusty brandy filled flask was held out to her. Her flowers and her cane would have found a home on the cushion near her, as her had did. He was yet unscrewing the lid with thumb and forefinger as he handed it out . Was she fortunate or unfortunate that Dorian had not had time to heap sliced apples and cheese on bread to assemble her a makeshift sandwich?
Lady Llywellynn Devoreaux Esher: Llywellynn was entirely befuddled by what had transpired, hadn't the means to make sense of the how and why of it at all. All she could manage was to lay on the couch of the Windgrace's hospitality as if she had been cast up on the shore. By some miracle Dorian's gifted handkerchief remained snared between her fingers curling tight, whilst the kind gentleman had attended to the remaining belongings. Both of them and all the things now safe and sound in the environs of his family home.
The thin Lady had a slight sheen of sweat on her, exposed as she had been to the actual weather of the living in that searing moment. Thankfully most of that reaction hidden by the utter black of her dress. Now she was shivering in the aftermath of that hot flash of sunlight, again consigned to the grey chill across the Veil seeping back into her bones. She had gone pale again as well, her ailing pallor more evident in the wake of such bloom.
Panic was riding the pace of her heart, seeing nothing but flickers of light and shadow now. For any with predatory senses her scent was spiking with its racing lift, sweet and smoky. But quickly she turned towards the sound of the lording's voice, seizing on his explanations to find some calm. Her fingers ventured out uncertain and blindly for real this time to the offer of his flask, always eager for brandy even half fainting as she was. He however would have to press the metal to her fingertips most likely for her to find it now.
"Ah...I..I see..." Llyw replied weakly, thready from the ordeal, scraping her wits back together slowly, "I...am so...sorry...I had no ...idea...this would...happen...." She breathed out with another shiver, "...G..gods....I can't...see....You...The sky...was so bright...The s..sun....I hadn't...seen...felt..in so ...long...." Her voice caught on a faint sob, emotion thickening as she tried to communicate, tears still flowing freely.
Dorian was astute enough to notice that she was blinder than he remembered and he did fit the flask to her palm and as he'd done earlier in their encounters he'd make like she was blind. THis meant tapping the table across from her so she'd know where it was once she'd spoken and the flask was handed out. This meant once the tray was brought he'd set the cool damp cloth to one side, and then start to pile things up to eat.
Dorian sandwiches were wild affairs, he'd set about making her one because he still considered her incapacitated. A sliver of apple atop a slice of bread, stuck fast with honey, then a hunk of sharp salty hard cheese, which would be fastened to the bread with butter. He'd make three before stopping while he talked, two for him and one for her. "There was no particular flare in the sky... though your vision is a mystery to me. You seem to see and not see. When I am certain I have understood it, something changes my thought on the matter. In any case, there is a cool cloth here, beside a sandwich on a tray for you." Again knuckles wrapped upon table top. Keiko had disappeared into the house again.
Lady Llywellynn Devoreaux Esher: Dorian's kindness again was more appreciated than he might ever realize. Llywellynn moved enough with effort to be in a position to gratefuly accept the flask, bringing it rather unsteadily to her lips to take a deep bracing quaff. Delivered from his deathless hand the liquor was pure burning down into the chill settling back into her. The alchohol was again free from the tinge of death she had to endure consuming otherwise. On her own only brandy and coffee tended to contain less of the cloying ashen taste and so she imbibed enough of both to affect her natural fragrance.
Her hand trembled even from the slight weight of this drink, the warmth from him lingering on the metal and in the beverage to remind her of what she had just experienced. But in true British fashion much like his own tendencies she chose to strive for some semblance of composure again rather than allow her flailing confusion continue to spill from her eyes.
The vague outlines of the interior of the Windgrace mansion was slowly filling into the dancing white space in the center of her vision, giving her hope that this bout of true blindness was temporary. She had been too caught by surprise to not stare directly into the sun and suffer for it tenfold due to her particular malady.
Llyw held out Dorian's draught of brandy back towards him with a shaking hold, most of her meager strength still washed out of her by the flood of illumination. She smiled, a curve just as shaky but genuine, to allay his concerns as best she could. After everything it was an easy decision to show him the truth of her as she was. The seer used her other hand to slip off her heavy eyegear at last, attempting to focus on the silver glimmer of the gentleman's inhuman eyes, the golden glow that flickered from his outlines guiding her slowly recovering sight.
Llyw's eyes were large and would have been perhaps arresting on their own....but her natural cornflower blue was been leached to bone white, leaving only a vague ring of color. And in the centers where the windows to her soul might show depths were instead filled with a glaring crimson glow pulsing with the beat of her heart. The world of the dead reflected in her Cursed eyes, gazing upon the deathless godling sitting in front of her.
"I See too much...I suppose....And for no reason...I know of....Holding your hand.....Dorian.....I saw the sun...for the first time...in ages. Perhaps....it is your ...nature? I see you ...as you truly are, you know?" She whispered all this truth so quiet and almost sad, hoping desperately her friend would not turn from her now, for seeing too much, especially from the touch of his hand.
Thusly exposed Llyw's face was wan, soft and vulnerable, looking far younger than her presentation otherwise would suggest. Showing her true face to him while confessing seeing his all along.
Dorian had taken his flask and set it upon the table exchanging it in his hands for the sandwich he'd made, holding that her way instead. As far as he could tell, before she spoke, she was in need of nourishment. When she explained though, that she really saw him... his mouth would fall ajar.
A moment or two, some heartbeats later, he'd inquire, "What is it you see when you look at me? You--your eyes are not what I thought they'd be. You can see, more than most.... How is it you are deprived of the sun's light and warmth? This is... part of your haunting? You.... Llywellynn.... this is.... you are... I mean... blimey."
He'd stop his halting attempts to speak or understand by shoving a quarter sandwich into his maw straight away, and chewing stare at her while he awaited an answer and stared at the pulsing red at the center of her eyes. Even as he'd asked, he was a pale golden skin color with whorls of magic upon his skin, aether moved through him, and was in his every cell. He was aglow with the unlight wrested through the angles of time, and the wings he bore had eyes that saw, as she well knew. Better even than he did. Those eyes flared purple, paler yellowish green and back. And something about him, writ large though his persona was, had a reaching a yearning for the part that was missing. Winged eyes sought out Dinah and likely turned to look in the direction where she or his other siblings were when not intent upon the lady before him.
Lady Llywellynn Devoreaux Esher: Llywellynn's delicate countenance was tearstained, her eyes shadowed by chronic insomnia, all cast in the paleness truly untouched by the sun until just recently. A fade redness lingered as if she suffered the slightest of sunburns, the Curse affecting all her physical reactions to such things in odd ways. Llyw's eyes so drained to pure red blight might prove nearly as uncanny to gaze into as Dorian's own unnatural appearance.
Dorian's consternation, his normally unflappable seamless Britishness coming undone at the edges, was what got all the seer's reeling attentions. His questions so broken and tinged with confusion of his own before he righted his own ship again, occupying his mouth with the food he had meant for her. Delivered from his hand it might just taste free of death too, but she was stuck in the throes of relief and trepidation concurrently. He wasn't throwing outrage at her for which she was immensely relieved, but his questions would require breaching her own habitual reserve yet further than
Lady Llywellynn Devoreaux Esher: before. Her secrets so closely held were spilling out of her like tears however, with so little time left to her, she felt she had to give what she knew in return for his kindness.
He seemed not to know what he might look like which left her in the wake of surprise searching for a way to describe him. The pure defiance of death he was shaped from with eldritch power and beauty, with eyes gleaming from beyond time from his wings, seeing her far deeper than she could ever see of him. But she tried, soft and quiet sliding into her slow drawling New Orleanian accent, "You...are so golden and shining, over flawless form and locks....Your eyes are pure silver light....You look like...a living sculpture of the Renaissance actually...shining with light..." She blushed now, closing her aching eyes to turn away, unable to hide her reaction to him since she was looking so close while her vision restored itself upon him. "Y..your wings....flow with magic I think....like living light....and from your skin like heat I
Lady Llywellynn Devoreaux Esher: feel....But all the eyes...." She shivered, *feeling* somehow that shift from greenish yellow of all those stares into purple briefly, as if she were suspended in the void of their eldritch attention stripped to the marrow of her. She stumbled onwards as she reached for the damp cloth, to clean her face of her crisis, gulping for air, "T..there...are many...eyes on your wings.....green yellow....p..purple...that stare....through me."
Llyw was able to finally get a breath when the heavy focus of all those aforementioned eyes shifted towards Dorian's twin and siblings wherever they might be in the house or elsewhere. The seer didn't have the means to truly sense what he might yearn for his other half, though she would have noted the yin and yang of their true natures at the prior meeting. "Your sister is darker but similar.....You are so bright....and beyond death...I can see you stand out. All I see is the world of the dead, so grey....so sunless...so cold...all the time. Your hand let me see the sun.....f.....feel it....since this Curse on me began.....Thank you, Dorian..."
Dorian had challenged her, then commenced chewing, n part because he couldn't believe she'd been seeing that all along and had been so calm... he knew what it looked like. He was, to his mind, what his sister made of him. She followed him out of hte womb, but he'd followed her ever after. Long had she called him Apollo. And though Apollo did not lay claim to such wings, the very golden gleam of him had come from the envisioning of himself in Di's terms. The electrum of his eyes was something he'd seen reflected in his twin's most often. But Llyw passed the test, and he muttered, "Bloody hell, Llyw!"
It was not exasperation with her, it was confoundment on how she'd buried this information so long. It was uncertainty of how to deal with being seen thus. He'd gone to the glitterati nights at the cabaret and been on full reseplendent display there, but it was a pair of times only. "So you know that I am not.... that we are not... and you what.... do not fear us? Eat."
He'd take up the plate again and this time hand it her way, as he'd need to address her root cause of problems that was still reigning in his mind. Food. As it stood she was lucky that he'd only eaten one of the sandwiches, not yet touching the one he'd made for her which had that damp bit of linen towel on it'd edge to cool her down.
Lady Llywellynn Devoreaux Esher: Hearing Dorian call her by her nickname somehow eased the clinch of her heart, breathing easier somehow from that simplest evidence of acceptance. That was what she craved the most from him, from all of them really. To be accepted for what she could see, for what she was and suffered from and hopefully might trade help as allies, friends or whatever fate might have in store. Due to the travails of dealing with the world of the restless dead for so long she had built quite the formidible self control necessary to not advertise her reactions to such horrors and wonders by sheer necessity. To show fear or panic or interest was to invite too much attention from the wandering wraiths and angry spirits to torment her otherwise. Thus comporting herself calmly enough in this otherworldly man's presence had been second nature despite her initial surprise. Again all that mattered to her was the kindness he offered, regardless of what he was or what he did to others. Some of this acceptance of him might gleam from her own unshielded face now, her expressions entirely unguarded for once. She smiled and shook her head, no trace of fear in her for him or his siblings, "Yes...I...see you all...and I am fine...with it. Kindness is all... that matters to me, Dorian...And I...hope I can....show you that too....ah..." Before Llyw got to try any of Dorian's amazing sandwiches however, the stress of her encounter with the sun from Dorian's fingers took its ultimate toll. The frail widow was just too worn away from the Curse in general to rally for long without further care. And so with all she had just said and revealed, unveiled as she was she fell back against the couch into a true faint. Llyw slipped into the dark of unconsciousness, left helpless and vulnerable upon Dorian's hospitality now until she had sufficiently recovered.
When Llywellyn came through she'd be able to notice a few things. That a basket with her sandwiches had been prepared and left for her all wrapped in cloth napkins. That a thermos of tea had been brewed too for her, but it was not made by him, instead by Keiko. That Dorian had left a note and some gentle Satie on the record player. "[Business called me to the docks, but I shall send dear Hiromi your way. Do not forget croquet and I hope to see you soon. My apologies for not being there when you woke. -D]"
There would be a little Japanese girl watching over her when she woke who'd point out the note or ready to aid her if she seemed blind or in need of a helper to comport herself home.