The Next Great Adventure

Tales of Jaycynda Ashleana and her associates.

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The Next Great Adventure

Post by Jaycy Ashleana »

Chapter 1: Off to a Rocky Start

September 29

“I’m sorry, love,” Jaycy winced, “but…”

“… I have a headache,” he finished for her, stifling a sigh as he too-gently disengaged from his half-dressed wife. It wasn’t even a lie, he knew. An echo of the throb tickled at his consciousness, mounting his increasing need to punch something and his overall frustration. The woman he’d made love to thousands of times was acting like a skittish virgin, shrinking each time they became remotely in danger of being intimate. Working herself into a frenzied mass of terror was the cause of the pain, his need for a child the underlying reason.

He did sigh, then, and chastely pulled her close yet again, sweetly stroking her silver-streaked red hair. Her eyes slowly shut as she relaxed in his comforting embrace, inhaling the metallic musk that was him, dragon and man all mixed into one. The slick cool sheets swathed them in rich violets, whispering across patches of bare flesh. “It’s okay,” he soothed quietly. Even though it really wasn’t. “Get some sleep.” Gently he eased her head up long enough to slide a pillow underneath her.

He had been patient.

But something had to give.

He fell asleep to the soft music of her content snuggling murrs, fingers of one hand tangled in the loose waves of her hair while the other curled tight around her midsection, scarred bottom and back pressed hard into him.

He woke first to early rays streaking through the partly-opened drapery hung from the sliding door leading to their balcony, sprawled half atop the smaller woman. Shifting slightly to ease the pressure on his wife, he exhaled a surprised huff as he found that while she was still asleep, her hands seemed to have a mind of their own. Tiny fingers trailed over thigh and rear end and back, light drifting touches shooting delicious shivers down his spine and bringing him to swift harsh excitement.

“Jaycy,” he breathed, rasping. “Wake up. We need to talk.” Actions suited to words when he pushed himself from her unconsciously teasing fingers, scooting from the bed to stand at the foot and out of the redhead’s reach. “Jaycy,” he repeated, tone sonorous in the command. “Wake up.”

Her head slowly lifted from his pillow, blinking owlishly as she sought to find the source of intrusion on her slumber. “Wha huh?” Shoulders followed, rising as she pulled herself into a seated position, chemise hung low on her shoulders and dangerously close to revealing breast. The backs of her knuckle dug into eye socket and she blinked again, finally spying Pslyder. “Wha? Psly? What’s wrong?”

“Love,” he said a tad gentler, “… we need to talk.” He drew in a breath, releasing it slowly as he sought the proper way to commence the discussion. Finally, he continued, not moving from his set stance at the bottom of the bed. “I know about the dream.” He kept his voice soft, sympathetic. “Do you want to talk about it?” While he knew a more subtle approach might make Jaycy more amenable on the surface, inside it wouldn’t solve the underlying concerns.

She winced, visibly twitching in pain at the mention of the dream; she knew exactly which nightmare he meant. “Erm… ummm…” she stammered briefly. “I don’t know,” she finally exhaled, deflating, green-gold eyes shifting to the luxuriously sleek bedcoverings and hanging there, not daring to peer back at her husband. “I… he… Arlen… he’s right.” Her gaze flicked up for a moment and then shot down again. “I’m…” Trailing off, she shrugged helplessly.

“Jaycy,” he murmured, rounding the edge of the bed to settle next to her finally, reaching out to fold arms around her and draw her close to his chest. “Jaycy, you knew Arlen for years; much longer than I did. But I know he loved you, and he loved your boys as much. I think he would have had no greater joy than to be remembered by a child – new life – being named for him. Boy or girl.”

“But…” she began, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck.

“Jaycy,” he softly chided, “… Arlen would be mighty unhappy if you let yourself dwell and fall to pieces over it. He would be one of the first to say that while you shouldn’t forget, you should forgive.” He paused a beat before emphasizing the next word, turning his head slightly to press a kiss to the woman’s temple. “Yourself. And learn from what happened. And never let something – someone – get the best of you again. Mourn him, but don’t cling so tightly to his perfect memory and your guilt over it that you die yourself by inaction.”

She breathed a soft, warm sigh upon his neck, moistening the flesh with salted drops. “I… you’re right. It’ll take time, but you’re right. I’m sorry, Psly.” Withdrawing from the close embrace, she offered him a tremulous, shattered smile. “He’d want me to do it. He’d be the first to beat me for curling into his horrid ball of fear.” She gave a rueful chuckle, shaking her head slightly and bringing a hand up to wipe at damp cheeks. “He’d be able to do it, too!”

He chuckled with her, pulling back and peering at her with a gentle half-smile. “He would,” he agreed. “He once threatened me, you know. He said he’d personally skin me alive if I ever hurt you and showed me his knives, as well as his … proficiency.”

Blinking at him, her mouth dropped before snapping shut. “He did! That bastard.” She grinned faintly. “He knew I had first rights to that if it ever became an issue.” After wrinkling her nose at him she laughed softly. “You’re right,” she stated again, then peered down. “Mayhap we should start trying to make that baby now, love? To name after him?” The question was shy, nervous, and she snuck another glance up at him only after asking it.

“Ah, love,” he smiled. “Who cares about making a baby? Right now I plan to fuck you so long and well that by the end you won’t even remember your own name.”

“Oh, Psly,” she whispered, laying down once more and drawing him with her. “Please do.”
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Chapter 2: If At First You Don’t Succeed …

November 1

“How’re you feeling?”

Jaycy looked up at the question from her husband, slowly closing the book at her lap. A small smile grew as she found him framed in the door that separated their library from the living space, fingers pressed into the wood of the doorframe on either side of him. Denim-clad from the waist down, his shirtless torso glistened in suggestion of recent physical activity.

“I’m alright,” she finally answered after taking a moment to admire his form, tongue gliding over dry lips. “I’m alright. I’ve been kinda tired today and a little sore. I think I pulled something when we ran yesterday.” She offered him a rueful grin, raising one shoulder before allowing it to drop in a short shrug. “I’m sure I’ll be fine in a couple days, but I’m going to take it easy until then.” She indicated his attire with an upnod. “What’ve you been up to, besides working yourself to an ‘incite Jaycy’s loins’ level?”

He chuckled, releasing the wall to wander closer, running a hand through his dark dirty blonde hair. “Getting everything ready for winter, just about. Prepping a path for the bikes from below, and the firing range and shed. I’ve got a suspicion that this winter’s going to be a busy one.” One hand dropped to the arm of a supple, leathered chair before he lowered himself down slowly. “It’ll take a few days, but I’ll get extra fodder for the herds.”

“Wait, you do actual work around here?” she teased, wrinkling her nose playfully at him. “I’d better not let this get out. It’d ruin your reputation as a suntun-getting sleeping-all-the-time son-of-a-bitch. I’ll just take all the credit!” she chirped, grinning briefly at him. The grin was lost soon after, though, as a yawn escaped. “Mmm, sorry.” Her cheeks flushed.

“Go ahead,” he chuckled. “Everyone will congratulate me on what a good choice of wife, to do all the work and let me relax my days away without care.” The former cyberelf winked at his wife, who mock-scowled in return.

“You’re just a trophy husband, y’know,” she retorted. “Everyone knows that.” Her words held no rancor, however, but rather tinged with laughter. Of all the things Psly could conceivably be and do, ‘trophy’ anything wasn’t among them and both of them knew that everyone knew that. Not the least because of his wildly successful motorcycles. Not to mention his winning personality, good looks, and no little skill in the rings himself.

“I’ll be whatever makes you happy, love,” he smiled. “What’re you reading?”

“Grimm’s Fairy Tales,” came the quick answer, and along with it a lift of the book from her lap to show him the front cover. “This book has both the later, less … uncomfortable versions and some of the earliest stories intact, for comparisons. It’s interesting, where the violence was edited out because it was ‘unsuitable’ for children. Sex, too. It’s harder to find the moral when there’s editing, and isn’t the moral the point of the story? Much like Aesop?”

“I think there’s a difference between offering a moral in a palatable way and scarring children for life, though,” he pointed out. “I’m not saying children shouldn’t know how life is, but the intended audiences for Grimm became very young children – at least where I came from. You can tell young children about death, but if you don’t want to terrify them it needs to be done delicately. I think that’s what the idea behind changing them was.”

She shrugged again. “I won’t disagree, but versions I’ve read has taken out death or anything considered ‘bad’ entirely. And that would give children a skewed version of their own safety. And here in Rhydin, especially, we can’t afford that.” The redhead offered him a small, wry smile. “Too many gods and monsters, and, well …” she waved a hand, almost seeming to indicate the two of them.

“You have a point.” He nodded, turning another smile to her, tired lines etched through his face. To say he had been working hard was a little bit of an understatement, but he felt the need to work off the nervous energy. He knew that any day now there would be some answer as to their first concentrated attempt at conceiving a child; any day now they would know whether the spell Chryrie had cast to ensure his fertility had worked.

“Any news, love?” he finally asked after a long pause, quietly. “Isn’t it about….?” Trailing off, he didn’t finish the sentence.

She released a breath and cast him a small, sad smile. “Not this time, Psly. I’m sorry. I started bleeding this morning.” Setting the book on the table next to her, Jaycy leaned forward to set her small hand on his much larger one. “Even with the spell, it wasn’t guaranteed. You were told that. Sometimes things aren’t right in my body and it can’t set in. We’ll just keep trying, aye?” She gave a light squeeze to his hand.

Psly exhaled a sigh and turned a tight, tiny smile on his wife. “Yeah.” A short pause. “I’d better get back to work.” Without waiting for an answer, he pushed to his feet and then leaned over to press a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll be back later.”

Her sigh echoed his when she saw his hand curl into a fist as he passed through the door.
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Chapter 3: A Step in the Right Direction

December 6

Afternoons and evenings on the roof were growing troublesome. Psly stared at the cumulated damage of many hard landings and not enough maintenance, uttering a sigh. "Frag."

A gentle mindtouch to learn the source of frustration drifting down the link with their lightest shields told his wife his particular location and she padded through the house's second floor until she reached the lowered ladder leading out. Chuckling softly, she climbed upward, stopping to lean against the edge of the portal once she was half out, arms resting on the poor battered roof. Dressed in visible t-shirt and brown bomber jacket, she was supremely comfortable with the cooling weather. "Have you ever thought of building a landing pad, Psly?" she questioned once she saw him, laughter in the tone. "Or, you know, just landing in the front yard like I do?"

Muttering under his breath, he begrudgingly agreed. "Yeah, yeah . . . dammit, I can't help it. I like to perch. Guess I'd best make a call." Turning from the damage, he relaxed enough to smile at her, denim clad as usual, the wedding band on display hanging from the chain around his neck. "How're you feeling?"

"I'll take care of it, if you want." Still smiling, she made the offer even though she didn't expect him to accept it. "I'm good. A little warm, but that's normal for this time of year. Besides cursing yourself needlessly for this," she indicated the roof with a general light sweep of her arm, "… what're you doing? Got any plans?"

"Nothing pressing. Sword practice later so I can get used to mid-range weapons a bit more . . . maybe a late lunch or early dinner, depending on when I get done. Why?"

"Just wanted to talk to you for a few minutes. Spend some time together." Her head tilted, gold flecks in her eyes gleaming softly in the vestiges of light. "Do the whole … couples … thing." She graced him with a roguish smile briefly. "Got a question or two."

Nodding, he found a seat there near the ledge, where the roof wasn't so messed up. "Sure thing, love. You know you can ask me anything."

Her perch, thankfully, wasn't too far from the hatch leading into the house and she stayed at her station without fear of needing to raise her voice, ostensibly guarding either the house from incoming pests or the roof from possible outgoing ones. Despite her request to do a "couple's thing" she kept herself from his grasp. "I'm doing well, by the way, to answer your question." A soft chuckle. "Going to start decorating the house in a few minutes, while you're busy with practice." She paused only briefly. "I love Yule. The smells, the warmth…" The smile reappeared, soft and hazy as she drifted from the present and into her thoughts for a bit before returning to him. "What's your favorite holiday?"

"Yule's pretty good, what with the season and all." Deep down, something still felt a little off about the holiday, but over the years, he'd mostly forgotten that nagging sensation. "Never really had much cause to worry about the rest, before now. And you know how it used to be, before coming here." She'd shared enough of his memories to see all that.

"I do." She nodded, sympathy crossing her expression with the faint grimace. "I hope, at least, the last few years - if not most of your time in Rhydin - have made things … all the holidays a little happier." Brows lifted, but it seemed to be a rhetorical question as she moved on without expecting any form of answer from him. "Halloween has become something … special … since you've come into my life, I know." Laughter returned as memories flitted to the surface again - costumes (or lack thereof), antics in the dueling arenas and their general … friskiness … on what was in some cultures a children's' holiday.

He had to smirk there, sharing those memories. "Yeah . . . " Leaning back against the knee-wall, he laughed. "You and me, we've had some damn good times . . . with more to come, if I've got any say in it." Gazing out over the expanse of their 'domain', his grin spread wider. "Sure didn't think I'd be here five years ago."

"What, on the roof of your house?" Teasing, she made a face at him. "Are you going to tell me that you weren't often on the roof of the Barn trying to figure out what the hell was going on, when you weren't at Seaside Manor with me?" Once again her brows rose, but it seemed she waited for an answer to that question, lips twitching as she tried to hold back laughter.

"Barn wasn't ever reinforced, love. I put all the construction there into the basement." Turning, he smiled to let her know the teasing hadn't gone unnoticed. "Never thought I'd be married and happy, I mean."

"I don't think anyone thought you'd ever be married. Happy, mayhap, screwing everything that moved …. " She stuck out her tongue before drifting into a more sober reply. "I'm glad you're happy, and I'm glad I'm a part of that." Pausing, she shifted her gaze toward the tree line beyond the roof. "Arlen always spoke so highly of you. He said of all the … significant others … he's ever known me to have, you were the only one he truly trusted and loved as a son. Even if he never said it to your face." No wince at the mention of his name, no spike in anxiety. There was only a gentle sadness at the memory.

"Oh he did, did he?" He shook his head with a quiet chuckle, shifting to slip a little closer to her. "I'm glad you're happy with me too, most of the time. Even if you do threaten me with bodily harm when I snore." Looking over at her then, he regarded her curiously. "What else is on your mind?"

"It's loud." She turned back to him, complaining mournfully, before chuckling. Unseen by him, feet shifted on the ladder, and the only indication was a slight hitch and resettling of her upper half. Another smile as she watched him come nearer but made no move to come fully on the roof. "Mostly the holidays. Figured I'd try something different this holiday." She paused a bit before another impish smile lit her face. "What would you like for Yule?"

"Asking me outright, hmmm? I could do the same for you, you know, if I hadn't already done a bit of looking." And shopping, but that part he kept under tight shields, to not ruin the surprise. "What do I want . . . hmmm."

"Asking you outright," she confirmed while he pondered his answer, that naughty little grin remaining split across her face.

"I want to take you out on the boat. Just the two of us. No luggage, no worries. I want to wake you up with breakfast in bed, and rock you to sleep with the sounds of the waves. Sunbathe on the deck with you a couple times, and whatever else might come to mind. That's what I want." The idea had come upon him in a rush.

"Oh, Psly…" Tears came, unbidden at his gentle wish. They glided slowly downward over her cheeks until she reached a hand to swipe them away on the back of it. "That sounds lovely," she murmured, unable to maintain the more amused smile in the face of his words. "But, erm…" She paused, turning her gaze down before flicking it up again at him. "… well… impossible."

He blinked, not getting the hint. "Impossible? What happened to the boat?"

She held the sigh back, chuckling just a little, quietly. "The boat's fine, love. And, by the way, I'll say it again … she's a ship. Not a boat." Amusement was returning in his apparent cluelessness, and further misdirection seemed to be the proper course of action. "Are you going to run her yourself? She's a mite big for a crew of two…"

"Ship, boat . . . I grew up as a landlubber, so sue me. And I guess I could try, we've done it before. But if the b- . . . ship is fine, then why impossible?"

"Well, there's this little matter of it being just the two of us…" Trailing off, she waited.

"Oh. You wanted to bring someone else with?" He seemed a bit disappointed, but looked to get over it fairly quickly. "Okay, who?"

Jaycy did sigh, then, and rolled her eyes. And tried a new tack. "Love, did you know your RoboMedic that you have here can scan people and identify foreign bodies within? Like cancers?" Her eyes snapped from him to the edge of the roof, to assess how much in danger he was of falling off if sufficiently shocked. She also shifted carefully again on the ladder, eyeing the distance between the two of them - just in case he decided to pounce and unintentionally send them both tumbling into the house.

"Okay, now I know you don't want to bring some robot on the ship." His eyes narrowed, a hint of slitted amber playing through the greenish-gold. "Come on, out with it . . . "

A few curses slipped out with her huff of exasperation. "Seriously?" Green-gold eyes turned back to him. "Fine." The redhead stuck out her tongue before continuing. "Foreign body inside? It can't be just two of us? I'm pregnant, Pslyder." She couldn't completely keep her voice free of the excitement her news brought her, a happiness she didn't truly expect but caused an undertone of great relief to suffuse through her and mingle with the joy.
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Wait for it . . . waaaait for it . . . There it was. A slowly growing glimmer that the concept took hold, comprehension dawning in his eyes. " . . . what . . . "

"Can you please move a little more from the edge?" The need to remain out of arms' reach exhausted with her admission, she leaned forward and scooted carefully onto the roof fully before twisting and coming to a stand, to ease over near his location. "I'd prefer you don't somehow fall off." Chuckling, she extended a hand for help settling next to him. "Unless you want to go in." If he could understand the idea of having a choice; he seemed slightly stunned.

In a bit, he'll make that decision. For now, he's staring down at her abdomen, eyes wide with wonder. " . . . you're . . . ?"

"You know, this has to be the first time I didn't have to wonder about whether you're ogling my breasts," she quipped. "Psly. Love." She spread fingers of that extended hand and waved it in front of his face. "Psssllllyyyyyy…" She still managed not to laugh, at least.

His eyes, still wide with amazement, flicked up to find her face. The classic look of happy-news everywhere.

Chuckling, she aimed that hand for his cheek, lightly sweeping her thumb across his flesh. "Hi," she whispered. "I am. I love you." Her other hand sought his, to pull it - and him - close to her. Fingers curled around his wrist, she guided his hand to her back, stepping inward to close the gap. "Breathe, aye?" Her soft words held little hint of teasing, the reminder a serious admonition with the poleaxed mien.

He stepped in to her then, a powerful, spinning hug that took them (thankfully) away from the railing, incredulous laughter startling the sheep herded in the nearby pasture.

She yelped at the suddenness of it, hand moving from his cheek to cling around his neck in the twirl. "Psly!" She laughed, alto tones joining with his boomed exultation. "Don't you dare make me sick just yet! Slow down!" Serious in parts, she was still (literally) swept up in his enthusiasm and couldn't truly chide him.

He came to a stop near the ladder, setting her down to cup her face in his hands for a shaky sort of kiss, trembling with the excitement of it.

Her arms slid across his neck to mirror his pose, lightly pressing into his cheeks again to hold him in the kiss, a sure and steady press of lips before pulling back only far enough to lock gazes with him, the corner of her mouth quirking up in good humor. "Breathe, aye?" she repeated, the words mumbled. A teasingly biting remark hung on the tip of her tongue and meant to follow, but she didn't have the heart to mock him and she held it back, only allowing the uptick of her smile to indicate her amusement at his not-unsurprising inability to speak.

It wasn’t breathing she had to worry about. As he rested his forehead against hers, a hot plop of something fell to her cheek, just above the line of his thumb, the trembling more pronounced.

Hands pressed more firmly into his cheeks, still gentle but serving as a solid presence, a link to the world that truly was, this dream realized. Salted drops slipped down to mingle with his, tracing down the thumb to pool at the webbed vee of hand at the end. Any need to tease fell away in the strength of his emotion, echoed through the link between them. Words failed, eyelids slowly fluttering shut, and she simply brushed a feathered kiss, soft as whisper, over his lips.

Matching kiss for kiss, he wrapped her up in another of those hugs, minus the spinning part, and let loose with a sob. " . . . thank you . . . "

Oh gods. Hands left cheeks to cling to him, letting loose a bawl, drops falling more quickly and thickly onto his chest as she buried her face there. "… Oh, gods, Psly." She assumed gratitude was given to the gods, to the higher powers, in allowing them the miracle of creating a child together and not directed merely at her. You're not broken. You never were but I hope this shows you. You're wonderful, and I'm so grateful I could give this to you, for you. The thought wasn't necessarily meant for him, but shields slowly eroded as she fell into the maelstrom that was his reaction.

The skies darkened as they held each other there, an emotional hurricane on the roof of their shared home, stars coming out to twinkle overhead before he got enough control over his thoughts to speak. " . . . we're going to need some remodeling, aren't we?"

"Oh, Psly," she barked a surprised laugh, peeking up once more at him as she took in deep breaths to settle herself. "I think so. Unless you don't think we need a guest bedroom anymore." She smiled tremulously. "But we have plenty of time to think about that. Months, in fact. Right now, though, are you hungry?" Her nose wrinkled. "I want to enjoy food as long as I can, and it's getting late, and my stomach is rumbling."

"I'm hungry enough to eat a cow." It wasn't a boast, or an exaggeration. Being nervous about this had put quite the crimp on his appetite, and he felt the pangs of serious hunger returning with a vengeance.

"Sadly, we're out of cow. At least the living variety." The joke and laugh were shaky, but her usual dry wit was returning as they came down to land once more. "There might be some in the kitchen, if you want to cook. But we have to go look." Unsubtle, the hint to get them downstairs. "And you'd have to let me go."

"Then let's go find some, hmmm? Or even go out to dinner, if you've a mind." Taking the hint, he released his grip to kiss her cheek.

(( Adapted from live play! ))
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Chapter 4: Looking Ahead

December 15

Where are we going, love?

The thrilled laugh was lost in the rush of the wind as the motorcycle zipped down the road, the simultaneously hot and cold metal of ‘Bucket between their legs, thrumming harshly with the speed they had achieved. Her arms tightened around his waist as she scooted inward, lessening the already minute gap between their bodies.

His answering chuckle was a rich, woody shudder of chest and warm wave in her mind. If I told you, I’d have to kill you. And I’m not ready to kill you yet. The mental timbre held a biting edge of teasing, a lightly sharp lilt that in no way masked the underlying joy that suffused him these days. Darker green eyes lit unceasingly with that happiness, a beacon in the chilled season. The air held that jagged crisp of imminent winter but neither suffered effect.

Ah, but Psly, she retorted, if you keep this up much longer, I might be ready to kill you. He felt rather than saw the smile on her lips as she pressed first her mouth to his back and then her teeth, biting hard. He laughed again, his rumble matching the beast beneath them. Careful, Jaycy, he chided. Keep that up and I may lose control and crash us. His rock-steady handling of the bike remained evident, however, as it did not waver from its course.

Then where are we going? She bit him once more but not so hard as before and then pressed her face into the injury, nuzzling in gentle counterpoint to the violence from seconds ago. You’re as excited as I’ve ever seen you and it’s almost driving me mad.

“We’ll be there in a twitch, love,” he said aloud, turning his face enough to let his words carry to her ears but not so much that he couldn’t properly watch the road. Not that he necessarily needed to take such precautions; Thunderbucket could and had driven without any humanoid guidance for hours. He very likely was telling the truth, too, as they entered the town’s outer edges, houses clustered more closely and interspersed with small, homely businesses.

“Well, hurry up,” she mock-grumbled, breath tickling his ear as she breathed the words directly upon it. His responsive chuckle got lost in the wind, retaining the current velocity. While the bike was safe to a fare-thee-well, they were encountering closer spaces and denser traffic and he wasn’t going to risk either of them in acquiescing to her wishes.

Soon enough they arrived at their apparent destination, the bike coming to a halt in front of a nondescript and squat hovel sandwiched between twin glorious two-story structures, townhouses that boasted bright signs proclaiming the glories within. The building to the left proved to be a haberdashery, a scarlet and gold painted hat displaying pictorially the goods in addition to the words “Bert’s Berets.” The right apparently dealt in a wider variety of goods but still remained specialized. Pink and blue balloons and streamers adorned the windows, framing blankets and bonnets and toys of all shapes, sizes and patterns. An enormous grey elephant lifted its plush trunk in salute and greeting to the passersby, marbled eyed seeming to twinkle in the early day.

Jaycy chuckled softly, peeking out from around her husband’s frame to peer at the delights displayed so near. Her green-gold eyes passed over the hovel dismissively, its squalid plain appearance of no importance to her in the face of the bits and baubles destined for nurseries around the city and beyond. “Are you telling me, Psly, you brought me here to take me shopping?” she teased, shifting hands to playfully dance over his sides.

One swift movement brought Psly’s leg over the slick beast and sent her teasingly questing fingers down onto the seat in front of her. He smiled, extending his arms to lock around Jaycy’s waist and lift her from the machine. He held her close briefly, leaning his face in to nuzzle nose to silver-streaked red hair and finally let her slowly slide down to settle next to him, his hands at her hips. “Not just. We’ve got another appointment first.” His rakish smirk tilted in the direction of the middle house, one which was devoid of any identifying marks. “C’mon, lazy. We’re almost late.”

Hands met and fingers interlocked as they turned as one to traverse the few yards of street that lay between them and their first destination, and a snort issued from her at his words. “You are definitely the last person with any right to call someone lazy, Frederick Thomas Alexander,” she scolded with a scrunched nose. “I need more sleep, and you know it.” Hmph.

Squeezing her hand, he turned a less impish and tenderer smile on her. “I know, love. Jus’ teasin’. Let’s go.” Arriving at the door, he released her only to grasp the rusted, crusty doorknob and turn before pulling it closer to him. She nodded a thank you before slipping past, and he rounded the door to follow her, careful to close the door gently behind him. The interior – at least, what they could see of it – was as contrarily opulent and neat as could be when faced with the memory of the disheveled exterior. Gilt walls gleamed in warm steady light and furnishings were of the lushest burnished redwood, intricately carved with dancing fauns and overlarge fauna.
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Post by Jaycy Ashleana »

“FINBAH, we’re ‘eah!” Psly bellowed, arm snaking around his wife’s midsection and drawing her to his side. Her smaller arm bent at the elbow to settle a hand over his at her side, wincing faintly at the volume so close to her ear. Her smile grew, though, as she recognized the first the name and then the dwarf attached to the name. Finbar, widely regarded as the foremost expert in building – particularly underground structures – had designed and built their home.

A stubby grump of a man, a perfect match to the exterior in force of personality, tromped from a further room and into view. His gruff manner may have matched the outer trappings, but his garb and carriage mated with the interior perfectly. Finbar was adorned in an impeccably tailored and groomed suit, black in color with a dark grey tie to match. His long white beard fell from his chin, neatly trimmed and beaded, causing chimes to tinkle with each heavy step.

“Heyas, Finbar,” Jaycy chirped merrily, eliciting only a grunt in response from the dwarf. “Jaycy. Pslyder. Let’s go, then.” He continued moving without a pause in the greeting toward the archway behind the pair, an open space leading into another polished and jeweled box. A massive paper-burdened redwood desk dominated the space, etchings at the corners and down the thick legs mimicking the designs found in the antechamber. One large, plush leather chair – dark stained mahogany in hue – waited for the bulky being at the far end of the room. Finbar stomped over to his seat and clambered into it, dropping gracelessly into a seated position with a little huff born of effort. “Move in,” he commanded, gesturing brusquely for them to come forward to the opposite side of the desk – a side that contained no chairs. People obviously weren’t meant to linger, here.

While they shared a laughing glance and obeyed, he shuffled the papers on the desk, grumbling under his breath all the while. Finally he seemed to locate the desired paper and brought from near the bottom a long bluish sheet, dropping it onto the top of the others. “So,” he started, “ye wanted a new guest room on that first floor, on the other side’a the great room.” A gnarled finger jabbed onto the blueprint just as they reached a close enough space to see the outlines of their home. “But ye can’t do it. The windows in the great room’re too large, too long, and ye got that two-story glass-case sandpit…” His finger moved with the words, tracing along the line designating the wall in question. “… in the way too. Upstairs …” He tapped a third section on the paper, “… ye can’t do either without completely redoin’ support joists and all. Best I can do,” the dwarf finally concluded, “… is build ye a guest house just here,” another jab, “… with a tunnel underground to the main house.” Briskly he rolled up the paper, finally turning brown eyes up to peer at them. “Can do it in a couple’a weeks. It’ll get a kitchen and all too. Good?”

The redhead grinned, turning her attention from short to tall man. “Well then. Guess you haven’t changed, Finbar. Still don’t waste time with things people might consider polite, hrm? Like hello, how are you?” Her voice held that normal teasing tilt and Psly’s lips twitched with amusement at her observation. “Sounds good, chummer. Go ‘head,” he added, nodding to punctuate his approval. “An’ we’ll stay outta yah way this time,” he grinned to the dwarf. Finbar just grunted again. “Alright, Pslyder. Now get out.” Hands lifted simultaneously and flicked forward, shooing the couple out from his office.

“Okay, okay, we’re going,” Jaycy laughed, backing away. “Thank you, Finbar, and happy holidays!” That didn’t even merit a sound; a simple glare was sent their way. Curling her fingers around Psly’s, she turned and scampered out, dragging her husband with her first to the door and then quickly out. “He gets meaner every time we see him,” she observed with a grin. Shaking his head even as his hand squeezed hers, he answered. “You haven’t seen him in years, love,” he pointed out with a smile. “Ready for some shopping?”

Her tugging response was voice enough, and she skipped the few steps from door to door. “I need to be pregnant more often if it means you take me shopping,” she mocked. It was, soon after, her turn to twist a knob and pull a door open to wave him through first. He strode into the store, dipping his head in appreciation, and turned to hold the door open while she slipped inside. “I want tha elephant, petit,” he announced once the door shut, pointing out the large stuffed animal in the window and tossing his wife a wink.

“Oh, no, Psly. We need to look around more before we decide. I’m not going to let you get everything in the store.” It was her turn to shake her head, and she made a disgruntled wrinkle of her nose at him. “Pace yourself, damnit.”

“A’ight,” he agreed, taking her hand once more. “Le’s go look.”
Last edited by Jaycy Ashleana on Tue Jan 06, 2015 5:27 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Jaycy Ashleana
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Location: Dockside

Post by Jaycy Ashleana »

Chapter 5: Danger Zone

December 26

Jaycy winced slightly as her head snapped left and toward the squalling that reverberated through the restaurant – well, diner, really – and made a face as she caught sight of the tiny wailing offender. A three year old girl wiggled uncomfortably in her chair, squashing meatballs and splattering sauce in the process of grabbing pasta from her parents’ plates and flinging it a few feet in every direction she could realistically turn to. “Erm, Psly,” she mumbled, nudging at his side with an elbow. “You really sure you want kids?” A subtle head nod toward the tantrumming toddler indicated the reason for her question.

Psly smiled to the tender and paid her before directing his attention briefly at the scene playing out thankfully out of projectile range. “Nevah mo’, love,” he teased, dark green eyes lit with the amusement that wafted between them at Jaycy’s question. He knew – or thought he knew – that she was just joking in what she asked. The elfin teen behind the counter beamed a smile at Psly, handing him the change and bidding the pair of them a good evening.

“Do you wanna take a walk, for a bit?” Jaycy slid her hand into Psly’s after they turned about to exit the diner. Longer steps took him to the door just that much quicker and he pulled it open for her, tossing the redhead a wink. She scowled at him and slipped through, causing the grin to spread and a chuckle to escape. “I think I’d like that,” he answered after he exited as well. “Anyplace in particular?”

“No, not really. Just enjoying the time with you,” she answered, tugging lightly on his hand to get them started. “Besides, dinner was good but I think I need to work off all those fries I ate. And you those nachos,” she teased. He gave a low rumbling laugh in answer and squeezed her hand. “Lead on, m’dear.”

She took him down the lane the diner sat in the middle of, set between a plethora of shops and other eating establishments. “Look,” she smiled gently, pointing toward the decorated tree that served as centerpiece to one window,” … look at the star.” The pride and joy of the holiday tree was the topper – not a traditional five pointed figure on a pole. Oh, no. A twinkle began at the very apex of the tree, a pinprick of brightness that blinked into existence before tumbling down the left side of the great green fir. Flickering dots trailed behind it, winking momentarily before fading from view. “Make a wish, Psly,” the redhead teased.

“You two are my only wish, love,” he replied without hesitation, a soft whisper that held the lightest touch of reverence, of remaining disbelief that he had had that wish come true. His frame shifted to face her fully, to gently draw her in, and once close, his lips descended for a sweetly tortuous kiss, one that pulled a moan from Jaycy’s mouth. The moan was not of frenzied passion but rather a release of rapture, a muted exultation of them.

Fingers brushed across pale cheek after a long moment spent in adoring study, sweeping a silver streak from his path and behind her gently-pointed ear. “Ready to go home?”

“Aye,” she agreed, breaking the mood with a sheepish grin and flush of her cheeks. “I think my need to pee every five minutes is starting to kick in.” She shifted, pulling back to self-consciously brush a hand down her rear end. “I think I may have gotten a head start,” she admitted with an embarrassed grimace. “Can you fly me home and have the bike come?”

“Sure, love, no problem.” He managed to refrain from laughing at her discomfiture, withdrawing long enough to sprout the wings and scales of his half-form. The blue being reached in and scooped her up, arms under knees and shoulders. He pulled her close before launching into the air and winging toward their shared home.

He landed on the newly-reinforced roof only a few minutes later, backwinging carefully to bring them to a gentle halt and then easing her to her feet. She grinned and chirped a thank you before scampering for the hatch that would take them downstairs and into the house. Great blue wings receded and Psly pulled his phone from jeans pockets, quickly pressing several buttons. “Bike’s on its way,” he rumbled as he followed her down. Closing the hatch, he frowned. “Jaycy?”

There was a sudden stillness in the house.

“Psly,” he heard from their bedroom down the hall. Her tone was a carefully calm monotone, threaded only with the undertone of panic that drifted through the link between them.

“Jaycy?!” he repeated, voice rising and giving substance to the fear he suddenly felt and unconsciously mirrored. He rushed down the length and into the room, head snapping left and right to divine her location. Not seeing her immediately, he passed through the chamber and skidded into a halt just inside the bathroom. A quick scan revealed a wide-eyed Jaycy seated on the toilet with jeans at her ankles. A disconcerting splash of red peeked from those jeans.

“Psly,” she whispered, “I’m bleeding.”

“… frag.” Other swears followed, words much more invective and violent. “Wait here.” Turning from the scene, he drew out the phone. Hands trembled as he dialed a number, jabbing fingers into the buttons in his haste to make contact. He pulled it up and waited for a response from the other end, taking first five steps and turning around before taking another five steps.

“Yeah. It’s Psly.” This wasn’t a time for accents, no matter whom he was talking to.

“Jaycy’s bleeding.”

“Hold on.” Psly pulled the phone away and shifted focus toward the bathroom door. “How much, love?”

Her voice, shaky, wafted, muted from the space and structure between them. “Not too much; just like a burst of it.” Psly raised the communication device once more and relayed the information.

“Yeah, she’s half human.”

“Are you sure?” He frowned at the thing.

“Alright. I’ll tell her.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

Lowering the phone, he pressed one last button. “Love?” he sighed, turning toward the door. “Sara says that sometimes bleeding like that can be normal and just to stay in bed for the next couple days and rest and only if it gets worse should we really be concerned.” The length of his sentence without a pause for breath betrayed how unnerved he still felt.

“Let’s get you in bed.”
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