Topic: Alone

Brynne Granger

Date: 2017-02-16 05:30 EST
((Contains material of an adult nature.))

Words. So many people discounted the power of words. They didn't need to be harsh, or loudly spoken. They just needed to touch the right nerve, open the right memory, and they could burrow deep enough to play themselves on repeat for hours or even days after they had first seen the light.

Brynne had never thought of herself as susceptible to words. Until a strange man had asked her a few questions she had been avoiding asking herself for years. After leaving Sol at the manor, she had gone home, fully intent on her relaxing evening before Lila's return, but the joy had gone from that relaxation, if it had ever been there to begin with. Instead, she found herself thinking about him - about pretty eyes and that cinnamon sugar voice, and the way he had peeled back a thin veneer that she had been ignoring for a long time with just a few pointed questions.

Loneliness is a habit, she'd told him, but that was a lie. Loneliness was the consequence of her temper. It was a self-imposed punishment for all the things she had done wrong, all the ways she had made mistakes. For the fact that her mistakes had lead to Lila being hurt by the one man she should never have learned to be afraid of. Those questions, and the truths they uncovered, haunted her all night, turning to tears in the smallest hours when she knew her daughter would not hear her. Tears shed for years of silence and pain; for the fact that now she had acknowledged her loneliness, it was a gaping, burning hole in her chest that she was never going to be able to cover up again. Worse, Caroline took the next day off, calling her in the morning to tell her to take the day herself.

So when Lila went off to school ....Brynne was alone in an empty house, trapped with her own thoughts on a loop, until she made a decision. He had made her feel this; he could help her deal with it. A call to Olivia Storm got his phone number, and a few minutes later, Brynne was pacing her living room, listening to the ringing on the other end of the line. "C'mon, pick up."

Sol hadn't planned on hitting that nerve or picking open any festering wounds - not intentionally, anyway. He had only been honest in his observations and advice, but he knew all too well how easy it was to reopen old wounds. He knew, too, that if those wounds were not properly tended, they'd never heal. Even so, he wasn't the type of man to beat a dead horse. He had opened the door, so to speak, and left it up to Brynne whether she wanted to accept the invitation to know him better. He was getting ready for work when his cell phone rang, not expecting it to be her on the other end of the phone.

"Yes, hello' Do you have any idea what time of day it is?" he asked, sounding just a little irritated at the caller. He'd thought about letting it go to voicemail, but there was that small chance that it might be important.

"Do you have any idea how annoying it is to be up all night because of something careless some complete stranger said to you yesterday?" she countered without thinking. Then she sighed. "Look, it's Brynne. I know you've got work, and everything, but ....I'm off today. I was ....I was wondering if you'd like to come over."

"Careless?" he echoed, realizing whose voice it was on the other end of the line before she introduced herself. He might have argued with that, if he hadn't heard her sigh and relent a little. He paused a moment before answering, all his self-possessed calm and control of the day before abandoning him in wake of her invitation. "Are you asking me on a date?" he countered, turning her own words back on her. He wasn't exactly angry, only a little irritated by her timing, but then, maybe it was a little tit for tat.

"No, I'm asking you to come see me," she said, and for just a moment, there was a waver in her voice that told a story of its own. She hadn't just been restless all night, that waver said; it betrayed that more than just sleep had been lost in the darkness. "But if that's too much trouble for you, then stop the conversation right now before I say something regrettable."

He could have rebuffed her, as she had him the day before, or he could have pointed out how he hadn't been asking for a date either, only to talk, but something inside him wouldn't allow it. He'd waited too long, searched for too long. He'd promised someone he'd find her, and it was a promise he intended to keep, no matter the outcome. "Very well," he said, after a moment's consideration. "I need to call my employer. Give me an hour."

"All right. Oh, it's Juniper Lodge," she added hurriedly before hanging up and staring at the phone for a very long minute. All right, so she'd called him. Now what"

"Yes, I know where ..." he replied, glaring at the phone when he realized she'd already hung up. "Bloody women," he muttered, clicking the phone off and tossing it onto the bed so he could return to the bathroom and finish shaving and dressing. He'd have to call Jon and tell him he was going to be late, but he wasn't going to tell the man that his cousin was the reason for his tardiness.

Good to his word, he arrived at Juniper Lodge almost precisely an hour from when she'd hung up on him. He had a paper bag in one hand and a cardboard tray with two takeout cups of coffee in the other, which made ringing the bell difficult, even for a warlock. He was impeccably dressed in a suit and tie, as usual, clean-shaven and smelling like a combination of soap and aftershave lotion.

He didn't need to ring the doorbell - it was a peculiarity of the porch steps that when someone stood on the second step, one of the floorboards just inside the front door crackled. So Brynne was already opening the door by the time he had to start fumbling for a free hand. She leaned against the edge of the door - no business wear today, her hair down and her eyes tired. "Hi," she said softly, that almost shy tone back in her voice. "Thank you for coming. Come in."

He bit back any remark he might have said regarding this being or not being a date, instead indicating the bag and tray in his hand by lifting them both for her inspection. "Coffee and bagels. Not exactly breakfast, but it was the best I could do on short notice." That was a bit of a mistruth for a man who could fix a flat tire and a broken toe without breaking a sweat, but he wasn't sure just how welcome he was here, and he certainly wasn't going to suggest anything more, until he knew what she wanted.

Her smile was just a little defeated, but it was a smile, and that was a huge improvement on yesterday. She drew him inside, closing the cold weather out. "You didn't have to, but ....thank you. I guess I'm saying that a lot today, huh?" She ran a hand through her hair, flipping it up and out of her face. "Can I take your coat?"

He noticed the tired look about her eyes and the fact that she wasn't dressed to the nines and felt a stab of sympathy for her again, not unlike he'd felt the day before. She was her own worst enemy, it seemed. Well, he knew what that was like. His knee-jerk response was to ask if he was staying long enough not to need it, but he knew that would only make her feel foolish and defensive, and so he only indicated the bag and tray again. "If you wish, but my hands are rather full at the moment."

"Oh! Sorry ..." She reached for the bag and tray, taking them from him to walk the few steps to the kitchen and set them down on the counter. A part of her was wondering just what he'd told Jon to get the morning off, but she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know that. "Better?"

"Yes, thanks," he replied as he shrugged out of his coat to reveal the suit and tie he almost always wore when he was working. One coat removed only to reveal another beneath it. Instead of waiting for her to take his coat, he merely snapped his fingers and it disappeared into thin air, presumably stored in some limbo land somewhere until he needed it again. "And no, I didn't mojo the coffee and bagels. Those are from Elena's." Some things were still better done the old fashioned way, it seemed.

Brynne Granger

Date: 2017-02-16 05:33 EST
He'd caught her before the words left her mouth, and instead, she felt herself laugh. Just a short burst, but it was a laugh. All night, she'd thought of the things she would say to him, little speeches prepared and rehearsed to let him know that it was not okay to rip someone open and abandon them to what you woke up alone. Yet now he was here, she didn't know what to say. Acting on impulse was what had initially landed her married at 19, and expecting at 21, but she hadn't acted on impulse in years. Until her hand reached out, curling into his tie to pull him close, lips seeking his with almost desperate hunger, demanding to be seen and felt and touched for the first time in far too long.

He hadn't been sure what to expect when he got there or what she wanted with him. He'd thought maybe she would apologize or maybe she'd just want to take him up on his offer to talk, but he certainly wasn't expecting this. It wasn't why he'd been waiting and searching for her for years, and though it came as a surprise, it certainly wasn't an unpleasant one. Unexpectedly jerked forward, there wasn't much he could do to stop her from kissing him short of pushing her away or making himself gone, but why should he do that' She was a beautiful woman who was apparently as lonely and starved for affection as he was. Or maybe just starved for sex. Though he hadn't seen this coming, he found himself returning her kiss, his arms circling her waist to pull her close.

Feeling his arms slip about her waist was enough to break down any second thoughts racing through her mind, to smash through the dam that might have held her back. Her hand released his tie, reaching up to comb her fingers into his hair, holding on tightly as she deepened that kiss, breathing him in, demanding more. One kiss, and another, and another ....she couldn't stop herself, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she didn't want to stop. The aching chasm he'd made her aware of inside her was throbbing, needing to know she wasn't invisible, that she wasn't as hateful as she believed herself to be. Needing him to soothe the hurt he'd woken up before she could even begin to start understanding it.

"I'm not sure this is ..." he mumbled against her lips, the rest of his words smothered by kisses he made no effort to resist and was all to willing to reciprocate. How long had it been since he'd been with a woman' Not so long that he didn't know what to do, but long enough that he was obviously as starved for attention as she was. Whatever he'd done or said to set her off, he had a responsibility now to see it through to the end, no matter how it turned out. Maybe they'd both regret this later, but damn if they wouldn't enjoy it. With a low growl in his throat that spoke of his own long-suffering frustration, he scooped her up in his arms, which was no small feat, and started toward the closest flat surface.

She hadn't expected him to lift her up, the kiss broken for just a moment as her long legs wrapped about his hips. His growl brought an answering growl from her throat, predatory and longing all at once. Perhaps she would be ashamed of her aggression later, and perhaps not. All that mattered in that moment was feeling. It was shameful to realize that she had not felt anything so strongly as this since before Lila was born.

He was in such a frenzy that he would have taken her against a wall, but he was too much of a gentleman for that. Instead, he waved a hand to clear everything off her kitchen table and laid her back, wishing she hadn't decided to wear pants for once.

She matched his frenzy, that need driving her, overriding her better sense as he laid her back, hands already pulling at the belt at his waist, undoing button and buckle and zipper to do a little touching of her own. Lips traded messy kisses back and forth as she toed her boots off her feet, unused to the liquid fire pooling inside her and welcoming the thrill. It had been so damned long since she'd done anything for herself and yet he seemed to need this as much as she did.

He answered every frenzied kiss with one of his own, tearing at her clothing in a hurry to get her undressed. It wasn't a tragedy if her blouse lost a few buttons in his haste. As much as he wanted her and as hurried as they both seemed, he was no selfish lover, only concerned for his own pleasure and forsaking hers. He knew how to stoke the fire that was already kindling inside her and he made the most of that knowledge, even as hurried as they both were. His lips found hers, as his fingers fumbled with her pants, and while he could have had her naked with a simple snap of his fingers, some things were worth doing the old-fashioned way.

But this wasn't about nudity. It wasn't about vulnerability. It wasn't even about intimacy, though there would be no way to avoid just how intimately they had suddenly become when the first frenzy was done. This was about need, pure and simple - the need to connect, if only for a few short moments, with another being, someone else who understood how loneliness filled itself with desperate frustration and aching unhappiness. With undignified wriggling, pants and underwear were pushed down and out of the way, hands reaching to prepare the way as lips made the rush of desire only more difficult to ignore. Brynne had one brief moment of concern as her eyes flew to the clock, only to remember that Lila was at school. That worry gone, her focus returned to Sol, and despite the years since she'd been so intimate with anyone, her hands still remembered what they were doing, moans painting the air between them as they finally made that connection.

When all was said and done and both of them were left panting for breath and trembling with the echoes of unbridled passion, the clock on the wall told them that only half an hour had passed. The coffee was cold by now, but it hardly mattered. Sol, for all his maturity, seemed a little embarrassed, apologetic even, though neither of them had objected or seemed to have minded the passionate interlude. He wasn't quite sure where to go from there and without a bed in which to share sweet nothings - if either of them would even be inclined to do such a thing - there was an awkward moment of silence between them during which they just seemed to stare into each other eyes as if wishing to know what the other was thinking.

Staring into his eyes, all Brynne could see was his embarrassment. She'd made another mistake. "I'm sorry," she heard herself whisper, her own embarrassment quick to rise in the face of his, looking away as she closed her eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"No, no ....Don't be sorry," he was quick to reassure her, more embarrassed by his own actions than by hers. "It seems we both needed it," he added, giving voice to what they both must be thinking, but had failed to say. Like the gentleman he was, despite his very ungentlemanly passion, he helped her off the table as best he could, pausing a moment to pull up and fasten his pants. There was a reason for the saying "being caught with your pants down".

"I-I really don't do that, this," she corrected herself, dragging her pants back on. There was nothing she could do about the two buttons that had disappeared from her blouse, but she wrapped her cardigan about herself to save his blushes. Despite the embarrassment, despite the awkwardness, there was a part of her that wanted to go again, to find somewhere soft and warm to linger and enjoy just being held, if he wanted to. "I mean ....I-I haven't done this with anyone since before Lila was born. It's not like you're the latest in a long line, you're more of a dot ....that did not sound complimentary, I am so sorry."

He smiled, sensing her awkwardness and her embarrassment, which seemed even more apparent than his. He turned to face her now that his pants were no longer hanging around his knees to help replace the buttons she had lost because of him. It took very little effort, just a thought or two and the touch of a single fingertip and her blouse was as good as new. "I don't regret it, if you don't," he assured her. And he wouldn't really regret it if it happened again.

The casual use of magic was still a shock to the system, despite the good outcome, but worse was hearing him say he didn't regret what they had done. Surely he was supposed to regret it' Wasn't he supposed to be disgusted with her and leave without another word" Wasn't that what men did with women who cut out the middle man and went right for the kill"

Brynne Granger

Date: 2017-02-16 05:34 EST
"I ....I feel like I should regret it," she admitted, her unaccustomed shyness returning. "But I don't. It's your fault, anyway," she added in a slightly accusatory tone. "I was perfectly happy, ignoring how lonely I am, and then you asked all those questions and suddenly I needed you to stop talking and make the bad feelings go away." She paused, letting out a huff of breath, and tossed her hair, laying down the challenge as though expecting to be censured for her behavior at any moment. "So there. I'll put the coffee on."

"You're not seeing me at my finest, love," he pointed out once she'd finished her confession. If anything, he seemed amused by this latest development, but not in a way that shamed her or poked fun at her. "I haven't even had breakfast yet," he added, admitting that he'd come right over as soon as he could, only pausing to pick up coffee and bagels. "You're not the only one who knows what it's like to be lonely, you know," he reminded her further, touching a finger to her cheek in a soft caress, though she had offered to make coffee.

There was a clatter as he touched her cheek, the unexpected caress startling her into almost dropping the coffee pot. But unexpected or not, she didn't pull away; on the contrary, Brynne found herself tilting her cheek into his touch, aching to feel his touch. Even an innocent touch did something to her, soothed the sharp edges on the inside that were so painful when she noticed them. "Why do you care?" she asked, lifting her eyes to his. "I'm just a random woman. Why do you care so much about whether I'm happy, or lonely, or messed up?"

Her question brought a frown to his face and he abruptly dropped his head. He didn't think she was ready for the answers to those questions just yet, if she ever was, and yet, he owed her some kind of explanation - one she'd accept and understand. "I've been here long enough to have noticed you, to have noticed how you separate yourself from the others, to have noticed how lonely you are and how much you envy those around you. Your brother, your cousins. You think Lila is all you have, all you need, but one day, Lila will grow up, and then you will know what it truly is to be alone," he told her, something in his voice that told her he hadn't just observed this in her, but had experienced it himself at some point in his own life.

"I know because I felt the same way once." He shrugged, not only shrugging off his own explanation but the feelings and memories that haunted him. "Perhaps I am only hoping to save you from yourself before it's too late."

"And I just took advantage of you," she sighed, leaning into the counter, her head bowed. "I really don't know to apologize for ....Gods, I can't even say it. And I can't promise it won't happen again. I-I'm already missing your ..." But she stopped herself there, her face almost crimson with embarrassment. It wasn't the explicit detail she was missing. It was the warmth of being in his arms, being held, knowing he wanted to hold her. And it seemed utterly pathetic.

He hadn't looked for her to make love to her or to be ....what did they call it these days" Oh, right. Friends with benefits. He hadn't searched for her because he loved her nor was he looking to fall in love, and yet, he couldn't deny that something about her called to him. It never had before. Why was it now" What had changed after all these years" Was he really that lonely, or was he just like her, yearning for something more but unsure how to find it, even when it might be staring him right in the face" "We could start over, if you like. We could even go on a date, but I know you don't like dates," he said, just a hint of a teasing smile at the corners of his mouth.

There was that huff of laughter again, a flicker of her smile making itself known as she tucked her hair behind her ear. "Have you ever been so scared of getting something wrong that you won't even try it?" she asked, still not quite able to look at him. "That's me and dating. Me and anything, really. I've made enough mistakes, and because of them, my daughter got hurt. I can't do that again. I can't put her in harm's way, and I don't know how to date and be a mom, and it sounds like I'm making excuses, but I'm really not. I just don't know how to do this."

They were kind of going at this backwards, but maybe backwards worked for them or at least, for her. "We could just have breakfast and see where things go from there. No expectations. No strings attached. I'm not asking you to spend the rest of your life with me, Brynne. I'm just asking for coffee and a little of your time. I will tell you this ....I would never do anything to hurt you or your daughter. Promise."

She had no reason to trust him, beyond knowing that he could have hurt her already and had not. So why did she believe him when he said he wouldn't hurt her, or Lila, when she'd instinctively disbelieved others for the same thing" Maybe it didn't bear thinking about too closely. She turned, impulse driving her once again to press her face against his shoulder, lay her hands at his waist. "Thank you," she whispered. "I'm gonna drive you nuts, fair warning."

"Better than driving yourself nuts," he countered, dropping a kiss against her brow. "Now, bagels and coffee or shall we have a proper breakfast?" he asked, letting her decide. They had all day before Lila got home, and though he couldn't guarantee they wouldn't end up in bed again, at least, they wouldn't be doing so on an empty stomach.

"I can't cook," she admitted awkwardly. "Mrs Kirkpatrick, our housekeeper, she leaves us meals for the weekend, but most of the time we go over to my brother's house for dinner. I can put cereal in a bowl and that's about it."

"Just as well I can then," he replied with a grin. "And without my mojo, too," he added, wiggling his fingers just for effect. "Aren't you going to ask me about that?" he said, pulling away from her so that he could peruse her refrigerator for breakfast fixings, while she started the coffee. They could still make use of the bagels, but he thought he'd add a little something to them.

"Should I ask?" she shrugged. "It's not like you've used it to do anything but help me. I'm Rhy'Din born and bred - it doesn't matter what you look like or what you can do. Who you are, that's the clincher." She glanced down at the counter. "Can I help, at all" Stand in a corner not looking at anything just in case it turns out just glancing at an egg can make it go off?" Time spent with an almost eleven-year-old made her smirk and add, "Is that a legitimate super-power, making stuff decompose at a faster rate than normal" Because if it is, I am Captain Sick Bags."

"No, it's not, though there was a Terran movie a few decades ago about a group of heroes with ....unlikely superpowers," he said as he found the eggs and the butter and the cheese and the frying pan, all without her help. It wasn't that difficult to navigate a kitchen, after all, even if it was someone else's. "I could teach you to cook, if you like. It's not difficult once you learn the basics."

"Lila might faint if I actually learned how to cook," she snorted with laughter, finally managing to look over at him. "Last time I tried, she faithfully crunched her way through burned toast and peanut butter before asking me never to try it again."

"Ah, but you did not have me for a teacher," he pointed out helpfully, as he cracked a couple of eggs into the frying pan. Her kitchen was slowly starting to smell the way kitchens should smell this time of the morning - of brewing coffee and frying eggs with just a hint of sex.

"We're both a bit spoiled," Brynne said conversationally. It might not seem like ground-shaking conversation, but just the fact that she was moving away from her mortification and trying to be pleasant was a big step for her. "Lis is an amazing cook - she was our housekeeper before she married Teddy - and now Mrs Kirkpatrick makes sure we eat something normal for dinners on the weekends."

"I'll just have to cook dinner for you sometime then," he said, not even bothering to ask for permission. Just yesterday, she would have balked at that statement, but today was a new day, and he was determined to win her trust, one way or another. "I've met Lila, you know. She spends a lot of time at the manor. Everyone adores her."

Brynne Granger

Date: 2017-02-16 05:35 EST
"Maybe you will, sometime." It wasn't an agreement, but it wasn't a flat out denial, either. That was something, at least. Moving to find cups and plates, Brynne glanced back at him curiously. "What do you think of her?" she asked him, intrigued to find out if he had an opinion on her daughter already.

"What do I think?" he echoed, thinking it was far more important what Lila might think of him than the other way around, if they were going to be friends. He shrugged as turned back to focus on the eggs. "I think she's bright, outgoing, pretty. Everything her mother is, but won't admit to."

Oh, Brynne would be finding out what Lila thought of him later on, as soon as she could figure out how to do that without her daughter guessing why and demanding details. His compliment didn't go unnoticed, but Brynne didn't remark on it. "How do you like your coffee?" she asked instead, setting the cups down on the counter.

"Splash of milk and pinch of sugar," he replied, topping off each egg with a slice of cheese before sliding the eggs inside two halves of a bagel, creating a simple but filling breakfast sandwich. "Voila!" he declared with a grin as he turned toward her with a sandwich-filled plate in each hand. "Behold a masterpiece."

"And you made it look revoltingly easy," she drawled, impressed and put out all at once. The more she watched people cook, the worse she felt about not even being able to bake a cake. "Okay, coffee is done." She glanced toward the table, and a faint blush colored her cheeks. Did she really have the balls to sit at that table and eat after what they'd done on it"

"It is revoltingly easy," he insisted, following her gaze toward the table and reading her thoughts without being a mindreader. If he knew her better, he might have suggested breakfast in bed, but neither of them seemed ready for that either. "Counter?" he suggested, moving that way.

"Counter," she agreed, grateful that he'd guessed where her mind had gone. She needed a little more distance before she was going to be able to sit at that table comfortably again. Breakfast tomorrow with Lila was going to be ....interesting. Setting the cups down, she waited for him to make himself comfortable before sitting down herself. "And cooking is only easy if you know what you're doing," she added.

"No one knows what they're doing when they first start, Brynne. Were you born knowing how to speak or swim or drive a car" No, but you learned. Cooking is no different. It just takes practice, and believe me, everyone has burned something at least once. But I don't do much cooking anymore," he added, as he set one of the plates down in front of her.

"Well, you've got the wiggly finger thing going for you there," she shrugged, a flicker of a smile lighting her face before she looked down at the simple meal he'd put in front of her. She hadn't expected any of this when she'd called him to come over, but she couldn't help thinking this was much better than her planned lecture.

"Yes, well ....Even magic has its limits. You can't make something out of nothing, you know. Were I to snap my fingers and conjure up a hamburger, it would have to come from somewhere," he attempted to explain.

"The back end of a cow, for starters," she mused, glancing at him as she cut her bagel to begin eating. "Okay, you gave me permission, so I'm going to ask. Where does the magic come from, with you? Is it something you were born to, or did you have to learn" And if you had to learn, why did you choose to?"

"That's more than one question," he pointed out with a bit of a smirk, though he'd never set a limit on questions. "With me, it's a little of both, I think. Magic is in my blood, but whether you're born with it or not, you still have to learn how to use it. You might be born able to speak, but you can't really communicate until you learn the language. It's a little like that," he replied before taking a bite of his sandwich.

"But it was a choice?" she asked, genuinely curious. Despite being Rhy'Din born and bred, she didn't have any real experience of being exposed to magic users. "I mean, you didn't have to learn about it, you made the conscious decision to learn, right?" She took a sip of her coffee, eyeing him curiously. "And I never said I would only ask one question."

"Point taken," he replied, once he'd washed that mouthful of breakfast sandwich down with a sip of his coffee. "I think you're missing my point though. Do you choose to learn to talk" I was born a warlock. If I hadn't learned how to use the magic that is innately a part of me, I would still be a warlock, but the magic would be wild and untamed."

"Well, according to my mother, I didn't so much learn how to talk as burst out of the womb already back-talking and with a complete curse vocabulary just waiting to be used," Brynne shrugged. She didn't really understand, but she appreciated that he was willing to try and explain it. "So if you hadn't learned, how would it manifest?"

"It would still manifest as magic, but without the proper training, there's no control. So, let's say a child who isn't properly schooled in magic wants some candy, and his or her parents have said no. The untrained magic could manifest in different ways. Perhaps the room would suddenly be full of candy, or perhaps the child would disappear and end up in a candy store. Untrained magic is not so dangerous in small children, as it is in adults, and there are ways to contain it."

"Okay then, explain this one to me," she challenged. "You've gotta have met Lyneth by now. Before she started going to school, she aged herself up from a couple of months to about a year physically, and then to about two physically. And only then did she start going to school and learning about her magic. One word ....how?"

"Lyneth isn't a witch. She's a special case. She's half-Fae, so while there is magic in her blood, it's not the same as it is for a witch. In fact, she has the potential to become a very powerful mage someday, if she so desires. A child who is a witch or warlock would not be able to will themselves to age; however, there are spells and potions and such, but usually they are not used to age someone but to keep them young. And I am probably telling you more than I should."

"Who am I gonna tell?" she pointed out in a drawling tone, wiping a stray trickle of yolk from the corner of her mouth with the pad of her thumb. "Besides, Lynnie's more than proved herself responsible around the people I love. Even her pranks are carefully thought out so no one gets hurt. That's pretty amazing for a six-year-old."

He chuckled a little as she still didn't seem to understand. "Yes, but she's not really a child. She's Fae. Fae don't follow the same rules as humans or anyone else. They are unique and extremely powerful. Lyneth appears to be a child only because she wants to be. As for witches and warlocks, we come into the world the same way humans do and we age the same, as well," he explained, in the simplest way possible.

"She's a very cute child," Brynne mused. She really didn't understand Lyneth at all, but she accepted the girl. Perhaps that was all that mattered - the acceptance, rather than the understanding. "You know ....when you first got the job with Jon, Liv said something about you being about a thousand years old. You look pretty good for a decrepit old pervert."

Sol laughed, more at Liv's assumption than at Brynne's poor attempt at a compliment. "I'm not sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult, but I can assure you I am nowhere near a thousand years old." He took a swallow of his coffee to hide the smirk on his face.

Brynne Granger

Date: 2017-02-16 05:36 EST
"It's a compliment," she assured him. "Takes one to know one, after all." A compliment to him, an insult to herself. But low self-esteem worked that way, and it would take more than one steamy session on a table to convince her she was anything more or less than old and unattractive. Rising, she collected her plate and his, moving back to the sink to begin washing up.

"Are you saying you're old, decrepit, or a pervert?" he asked, furrowing his brows at the implied self-condemnation. "I can assure you I am none of those things and neither are you," he said, with a hint of scolding in his voice as he got up to help her with the dishes. Though that really depended on one's definition of old.

"I'm at least two of them," she shrugged, focused on giving the plates a rather more thorough scrubbing than they needed. The conversation wasn't awkward, exactly, but she felt as though she were flailing at the end of a rope, not knowing what the other end was tied to. And if it was tied to him ....why wasn't he reeling her in"

He wasn't sure which two she was thinking of, and he didn't really want to guess. She wasn't old and she certainly wasn't decrepit. Perverted, maybe, but that was a matter of personal opinion. "You're serious," he said, eying her carefully and seeing no hint that she might be speaking in jest.

"Which is why I don't think about it, if I can help it," she said, her gaze dancing to his briefly before returning to the sink. She couldn't wash the plates any more than they had been already, turning off the faucet to reach for cloth to dry them with.

"Why, may I ask, would you think such a thing?" he asked, the coffee cup still held in his hand. She didn't really need to do the dishes while he was around, but he didn't interfere. He'd found humans found some sort of strange comfort in mundane routines and chores, for some reason.

She was quiet for a moment, abruptly turning her back to him as she felt her composure slip. Was this why she'd called him' Had she known that he would keep asking these painful questions" She didn't know. But just touching that bruised area in her heart and mind was enough to bring tears back to the surface, and the last thing she wanted was to cry in front of him. "It doesn't matter."

"I think it does," he insisted, but seeing how she did not seem to want to discuss the matter further, he let it go. He paused a moment as he studied her. There was clearly something bothering her, but he had no way of knowing what it might be. "Why did you call me, Brynne?" he asked, suddenly. Oh, he knew what she'd told him, but he wanted the truth.

"You're not just going to accept I don't know for an answer, are you?" she asked, opening a cabinet to put the plates away, hiding her face behind the wood for a moment longer.

"I think you do know, but maybe you're just afraid to admit it," he said, though it wasn't that difficult to make that assumption. He knew he'd gotten her thinking. In fact, he'd done that on purpose, but he'd had his reasons. He frowned, wondering if he should come clean himself. How could he expect her to be honest with him, after all, if he wasn't honest with her" "I have a confession to make."

"Don't." She turned back to him, laying her fingertips against his lips. "Don't do that. Don't confide in me, or admit to anything you'd rather keep to yourself. I'm not that girl." But in that case, what girl was she" The kind who was clearly more than capable of giving his lips something else to do rather than continue down a conversational road she wasn't ready for, it seemed.

How could she know that when she hadn't given herself a chance to hear what he had to say or given him a chance to say it' And yet, there was something in her kiss that lit that spark of passion once again, and something else he wasn't expecting or had felt in a very long time. He wasn't sure what it was exactly, but there was something so very sad and lonely about her that seemed to call to the lonely side of himself. He reached around her to set what was left of his coffee on the counter as his lips answered her kiss without protest or hesitation.

It was gentler, this kiss, but no less aching for that gentleness, no less demanding in its need. Brynne had never been this aggressive, this assertive, about passion and desire, but so long as she was initiating this, she could pretend she was in control of it. She could stop whenever she wanted. So why didn't she want to' Why couldn't she stop her hands from fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer, wanting to drown in the sensation of that basic, primal connection all over again?

Once again, this wasn't why he'd wanted to meet her or why he'd come here, and yet, her desire and her need were so strong, he found it hard to resist. And what harm was there in giving her what she wanted, when he realized that he wanted it, too' He was his own man now, and he was capable of making his own decisions. Why, then, did he feel as though he was taking advantage of her" "Brynne," he said, between breathless kisses. "Are you sure?"

Her eyes tightly closed, she let the kisses stop, afraid to look up and see the expression in his eyes. "It hurts," she heard herself whisper, shocked at her own honesty. "I thought I could be alone, but I can't. Please, I need to feel something."

It was only when she said it that he realized he could have said those very words himself and all the years of loneliness came crashing down around him. He took her face between his hands, studying her for a long moment, remembering. Why had he been sent to find her" He, who had never known love. He was not sure he wanted to know or would like the answer to that question, but he didn't want to think about that right now. Not now when she wanted him so badly. What kind of person would he be if he denied her" What kind of person would he be if he didn't' It was the pleading in her voice that decided it for him, and he pressed his lips to hers once again, letting her know she was not alone.

Her eyes opened when he took her face in his hands, searching his gaze for some hint that he didn't blame her for this stark weakness she had confessed to. She had spent her life being strong, being capable, getting herself into messes and getting herself out of them, always alone. Even when she had been with Luke, she had been alone. For the first time in a long time, she was reaching for something, someone, to hold onto, and Sol was the one who had offered that lifeline. It wasn't love; she wasn't even sure if it was lust. It was need, pure and simple, given and answered in the kiss he pressed to her lips as she clung to him.

He wasn't telepathic or even empathic, and yet, he seemed to sense a certain need in her that was not quite love but more than mere lust. Strangely enough, he was feeling that same unnamed feeling, too - drawn to her after decades of searching without any real understanding of what was expected of them both. Why hadn't they been together before" What had kept them apart' He had more questions than he had answers, and yet, none of them seemed important right now. All he really wanted at the moment was to show her she wasn't alone and in doing so, perhaps prove to himself that he wasn't alone either. Without another word and without asking permission, he swept her up into his arms and started toward the living room in search of the bedroom, where he intended to prove, one way or another, that she wasn't alone.