Duplicity's Kiss [Podrell/Zen]

[kevna]

Asirikai - Lord Holder Candidate

Asirikai had strangely enjoyed himself. Maybe it was because she hadn’t been quite so bubbly as the first time he had met her, and so she had been a bit more palatable. She had looked a little delicate, the way her bun sat skewed on top of her head, the way she had winced at too loud of noises and rubbed at her head. It was funny how he saw her as prettier now that he knew she was Podrell’s girl, though he still couldn’t understand how the two of them worked… Still, he had awoken this morning early, and understanding handovers, had simply wished to check on her, bring her a bit of klah to help with the worst of the pain. Hangovers he could understand, his own headaches after his own nights of drinking could be excruciating.

Siorreya had been surprised to see him at her door, had invited him in, and they had shared a pleasant if short conversation. She had seemed a bit skeptical at his offering, though she had still taken it. He learned quickly that she only remembered pieces of the night after he had left her from their dance, though she had seemed vague on the information, as if hesitant to give away her lack of memory. He wondered if she remembered the way she had kissed him, had almost seduced him to her bed… Shards, if she hadn’t been so wasted, she may have succeeded. It had been too long since he had had a woman. Their pleasant conversation hadn’t given her away if she had remembered or not. She hardly seemed embarrassed. He took that to mean she didn’t remember, which was fine with him. He hardly wanted her to sprout rumors he had taken advantage of her by allowing her to kiss him. Not that he had expected the kiss at all, and she had been the one to kiss him. Rumors, no matter the rumor, could be harmful, especially at this point in the race for Lordship of Mavros.

He had left his unfinished mug of klah in her room. She had offered to take it with her to breakfast to return the item, and he had accepted the invitation, though he wondered if she had just wished to finish his klah as well. She was a strange woman. So very strange. He walked down, away from her weyr, a small, satisfied smile on his lips. He wore his thicker, more dignified coat he had worn the evening before. He had taken it off while conversing with Siorreya, and now secured it again with quick, practiced movements as he walked, rimrod straight and confident. A man on a mission; he next goal of the day was to check back in with the Senior Farmer Pirra. He liked the older woman, she was straight and to the point, and worked hard. An impressive lady. He wished to talk business with her, and if he played his cards right, he believed he could sway her votes to be his.

[Zen]

Podrell

Last night had honestly been torturous. His dares to Siorreya had yet to fail to backfire on him… all except the one where he’d dared her to pick truth, which was probably cheating but he had figured would be fine so long as he only did it once. The worst part about last night’s dare was how he hadn’t even considered how it might backfire. The others he had at least known might, if she actually completed them. He’d counted on her not doing them and she had surprised him. But last night? He should have known she’d end up with Asirikai one way or another after he’d sent her away. She knew how much it bothered him, he should have known she might use his uncle to bother him just as Asirikai used her for the same ends. He’d just been so desperate to get away from her before he could do something he’d regret… and yet the dare had ended up being just the thing he regretted most.

At least she hadn’t spent the entire party with Asirikai. He had noticed her with friends, he assumed, drinking and laughing, after the dance his uncle had claimed from her. She had looked to be having a good time, and it had put him far more at ease to see that his uncle was nowhere near her. He’d been able to focus better on his conversations as he’d continued to mingle. But it had been very difficult to miss her leaving… with Asirikai. She had been very obviously incredibly drunk and his uncle was helping her out of the dining cavern. He had considered intervening, considered insisting on taking her himself, but he’d also been too afraid that Asirikai would be able to bait him into some sort of confrontation.

He was regretting his cowardice the next morning. He should have risked it. What if Asirikai had taken advantage of her just to get at him? He didn’t have a very high opinion of his uncle but he liked to think he would at least have more honor than that. Siorreya had been well into her cups, it had been easy to see even from a distance. It would have been wrong for Asirikai to try anything with her, but he also really wouldn’t put anything past his uncle when it came to trying to get a rise out of him. Under normal circumstances, he didn’t think Asirikai would have done anything, but he’d made Siorreya an obvious weakness to exploit, a way to get at him when he’d been otherwise rather untouchable.

So he’d had an incredibly restless sleep, which lead to his waking later than normal, and when he had finally woken he just felt… sick. He should have gone with Siorreya to her weyr. He should never have let his uncle take her. He’d made her a target, it was on him to protect her from whatever this rivalry might throw at her, and he’d failed. He knew she could take care of herself under normal circumstances, sure, but she’d been wasted, and she didn’t understand just what was between him and Asirikai, nor did she understand how easily she could be used against him because she had no idea of his feelings for her. But Asirikai did. Shells but he’d really messed up. He had to see her, talk to her… make sure she was alright.

His concern for her was the only thing on his mind as he dressed and made for the Weyr, Siorreya’s weyr. He couldn’t even eat breakfast, he had no appetite. He had to know that she was okay. But as he neared her weyr, his blood ran cold as he spotted Asirikai walking toward him, and was he… was he still dressing? The ice in his veins turned to fire just as quickly. He wouldn’t have… surely he wouldn’t stoop so low? But his steps had quickened as his mind could only play out the worst of scenarios for him to imagine. An underlying fury laced his tone despite his best efforts as he neared his uncle, “Rather early for you to be at the Weyr, isn’t it?” Trying to pretend like he didn't have suspicions was a waste of time, he couldn't keep it out of his voice or off his features as hard as he tried.

kevna

[kevna]

Asirikai – Lord Holder Candidate

The expedited pace of another approaching him brought his eyes to rest on the furious face of Podrell. This was just too good. And unplanned, which just made it all the sweeter. What could the man be doing heading right in the direction he had come from? Seeing his precious Siorreya? Was he feeling insecure about seeing Siorreya leave with him? He smoothed his coat, and gave a broad smile, the fury laced words hardly affecting him, unless growing amusement counted.

“Here I thought it was getting late, Nephew. That Sio can be so distracting in the mornings." He put his hands out to either side, palms open, an unvoiced invitation. "It was good I was there to nurse her hangover, she was very grateful for my services.” He said as his nephew continued to close the distance between them. He wondered if Podrell really believed he would stoop so low as to take advantage of a wasted woman, though his words hadn’t done much to prove himself innocent. Of which he again was unconcerned, even if the man before him looked ready to kill.

[Zen]

Podrell

Getting late? Only if he’d spent the night and- Tension built in him, made worse by the use of Siorreya’s nickname. What cause did he have to be so familiar with her? Hadn’t they met but twice? And the thought that his uncle might have sought her out between and he didn’t know about it didn’t help either. Asirikai was far too pleased with himself. It wasn’t as though his suspicion wasn’t clear, and Asirikai was doing nothing to deny it, quite the opposite. As much as he tried to cling to some desperate hope that his uncle had more honor than this, he couldn’t imagine a reason for his being to see Siorreya so early in the morning, couldn’t imagine any other reason for him to be here now unless he had stayed with her, taken advantage of the situation. Taken advantage of her. And if he truly hadn’t, because there was some semblance of honor in him, then wouldn’t he say as much? Podrell would be beyond offended if someone thought so lowly of him that they thought him capable of such a thing, he’d never allow the thought to stand unchallenged.

If his fury wasn’t clouding his judgment, perhaps he would have thought on it a little more. Perhaps he would have considered the fact that Asirikai hardly cared what he thought of him and might be willing to say or insinuate anything to get a rise out of him, even if it wasn’t true. Perhaps he would have questioned his uncle further, been more to the point, tried to get a real answer out of him. But as was often the case where Siorreya was involved, he acted without his usual careful forethought, his mind latched onto the horrid idea that Asirikai really had taken advantage of her just to get at him. Apparently there really was no low he wouldn’t stoop to when it came to their rivalry. Rage moved him, his typical careful logic forgotten as all he wanted was to wipe that smug look off his uncle’s face, preferably with his fist. He swung for his uncle’s jaw, filled with disgust, his paranoia led conclusion already drawn.

kevna

[kevna]

Asirikai - Lord Holder Candidate

Apparently, he did think Asirikai would stoop so low. The fool. He watched the rage morph the young man’s face as he closed the distance and swung a fist at his face. There couldn’t have been much thought placed in the action, it was far to apparent, and a little sloppy. There was no time to dodge, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t use the forward momentum against his relation. He used an arm to sideswipe the vain attempt at violence, grabbing for the blocked armed fist and pulling Podrell closer as his other fisted hand swung low and fast for a gut punch.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. You should know better then to start off so obvious. Gut punches are far more effective. Now for a follow up...” He chuckled, his last sentence more musing as he followed up with another punch towards the man’s face, hoping to feel a crunch behind the swing. It would be wonderfully delicious to leave a mark everyone could see. What would they think of Podrell then, black eye or broken nose, fit for Lordship? He didn’t think so.