User blog:Leea/The Tale of Voronwe, Chapter 73

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4th Era 171, 7th of Second Seed, Summerset Isle
To wait, or not to wait? That was the question.

He'd gotten to the cottage alright, but was torn on whether to intrude or not. If he waited, Orghum could obtain that other ingredient and start the spell, leaving Curwe and Balasian in danger and caught off guard. If he intruded and...inturrupted... the activities in the bedroom, there would be almost no end to the embarrassment that both sides would endure. Just standing out here at the door was causing significant embarrassment. Bodily functions - such as blushed cheeks - to convey certain feelings still appeared with his ghostly form, so he knew his face and cheeks were a good match for his hair.

Quietly moving away, he was glad to put some distance between himself and the sounds of lovemaking. Taking a deep, silent breath - which only conveyed another emotion - he thought on what he should do. Walking in the door was totally out of the equation: he was not up for that embarrassment that would be hard to be forgotten for both parties...especially him. He also wanted to give the couple their privacy.

He heard a cry from Curwe. His flush spread, burning his ears all the way to their tips. He went and sat on the doorstep, his eyes out to the ocean.

Could he interrupt them via other means? Perhaps he coud shake the house: that would cause them to stop. But, just as important, would they come running out in a clothed state, or unclothed? More than likely the later. That would be almost as embarrassing as an intrusion. It would also be unfair: they were having fun, and he so rudely stopped it. Worse, there would be bad memories to go along with it. He remembered what it was like to be with your love, and he wouldn't ruin that. Smiling a little, he also knew that Curwe would have a blistering lecture ready for him. She might even toss something at him, not that that would hurt or anything. He shook his head. No, shaking the house wouldn't work. Think of something else.

Bracing his elbows on his knees, Orthendar leaned his chin on the heel of his palms. It had been a long time since he had to wait for something. He supposed that was a good lesson to re-learn again. As he sat there, he heard another cry from within the house, and recognized Balasian's timbre. He felt his neck flush. Dammit, it wasn't safe here, either.

The steps weren't safe. He eyes went to the shore again. How long had it been since he'd had a walk? One not tailored towards someone else's needs? True, this was not completely free-moment pleasure, but it was "free," so to speak. Orthendar followed the path down to the shoreline, making sure he was invisible as he forced himself to stride in a leisurely fashion down the wet sand, taking in all the sights and sounds of Summerset's beach, which were so different from those of Pyandonea's. Yes, this was a soul-soother. His pace eased. He still felt a little uncormfortable, but he pushed those feelings away. As a ghost blessed by Auri-El, he had deep reserves of energy, but not the emotional counterpart. This was likely the break he needed, even though it was taken out of chance, rather than neccesity. He savored it anyway, listening to the sounds of the wildlife and the lap of the water.