Playing with Fire(closed)

[Benedict Marsten]

Some time after his encounter with the Raven and he was still running on her high. She had drawn him in, spun him up, and set him loose. At this point it felt like a race to find Corrine. Firstly to put his hands on her. To crush her into his embrace and feel her heat against him. Secondly because each second longer was a chance for a mistake on either of their parts.

It was as he pulled him self from the clutches of a nubile harpy, that he saw it. Dark hair, alabaster skin, bright blue eyes all contrasting with the crimson silk that delicately hung to her slender form. As she rises from upon a pile of cushions, many groping arms from within her crowd of worshippers pull her back down. They offer wine, grapes, and undying love as sacrifices to her Red God that she stay. Gods let this be her.

Pushing past those gathered at her feet, his flowing bear skin cloak and menacing skull causes them to scramble back. Leaning forward careful to not tip his bronze crown, he extends a veiny forearm, palm outstretched. "Come with me, Red Lady." It was not an offer or a question. Her worshippers balk at the affront, ready to detest this rude clansman.

[Lady Corrine Marsten]

The red-clad woman turned around slowly, and regarded him silently for a few moments. For a terrifying second, he is gripped by doubt in the face of her silence.
But then, she takes his offered arm.

"Come with you? Such urgency. Am I in danger?" she replies, smoothly, and her fingers search his skin thoughtfully.

A mountain clan king? Is it a clue or a red herring? Gods, is that a real skull?!

[Benedict Marsten]

Now that he was upon her it was easy for him to see he had mistaken black hair for dark red. Hesitation grips him. This better be her. Fuck it. "Urgency, yes. Danger, is up to you."

Her searching fingers will easily solve the riddle for her. Hiding from a familiar touch is an impossibility for the exuberantly scarred Ben. Those delicate fingers trace the long raised scar from Ser Markus' broken lance, when he was still a squire and she a sheltered girl and far from succession.

[Lady Corrine Marsten]

The barbarian had covered his markings well to outside observers, but not enough to fool the searching touch of one who traced his scars almost every night. She grinned wickedly, and her eyes raked over him with renewed appreciation.

"Lead on then, O King of the Clansmen! To your mountain abode. I will build such a fire there as you have ne'er felt!"

[Benedict Marsten]

Pulling the slender priestess to his bare frame, he squats low and with a sweeping motion he scoops her into his arms. One arm supports her back the other resting under her knees. Growing anticipation and stoked flames embolden the clan King. Flesh starved lips seek out his captives with rapture, but pause just a mere razors with from hers. The blood pulsing in them cause them to tremble and brush the full red lips of their intended target. Gods let this be her or I am in for an awkward moment shortly.

[Lady Corrine Marsten]

She squeaked with delight as he scooped her up, and put her arms around his neck, curling her body trustingly into him. His hesitation amused her, but she chose to break the carnival's rule, and put him out of his doubt.

"It's alright. It's me," she whispered. "Well hunted, my love."

[Benedict Marsten]

His sigh of relief was breathed out the moment before his lips pushed into hers. With a small suction he pulls her bottom lip in between his own. Using his very limited peripheral vision he looks for a appropriate place to do inappropriate things. "Thank the gods. Where?" His words are spoken between what seem life or death kisses. As if he would wither and die if they were not in contact.

[Lady Corrine Marsten]

"The side rooms. They'll be more private," she replies, with a brief inclination of her head towards a nearby corridor. "There's bound to be some still unoccupied."

[Benedict Marsten]

Moving with speed and only separating their busy mouths when navigating a difficult area, he descends the corridor. The search was fruitless at first. All the close rooms filled quickly. "Soon. Or. It. Will. Be. Here."

An exasperated sigh of relief slips between their mouths as the black guard opens the door before them.

[Lady Corrine Marsten]

She giggles impishly as the door is closed behind them, and she sees the room is set up very comfortably indeed, lit with fragrant candles. It must have previously been a bedroom for a monk, but, for now, it was a boudoir for the Mountain King and his Red Priestess.

"Masks on or off?" she quickly asks between kisses.

[Benedict Marsten]

"They are the least of my worries." He drops her into the cushions. Releasing the heavy cloak, he tosses it to the side with haste. His bare chest and shoulders familiar but different. The visible absence of his scars is a glaring contrast. Dropping to his knees in worship of the Red Lady his chest heaves with his rapid breathing and his muscles tighten and contract as he reaches for her.

[Lady Corrine Marsten]

She went to him readily, looking at his skin in wonderment. It was only by touch that she could tell where his scars were, attesting to the skill involved in covering them.

"Then let us deal with the greatest of them first," she grins wickedly, and throws herself into his arms.

[the rest of the scene is censored, for decency. ]

[Benedict Marsten]

Lying upon the soft bear skin cloak of the mountain king, embracing the now bare red woman, Ben looks about the lavish room that must once have been contrastingly spartan in appearance. The large ornate polished mirror reflects a scene from some Lyseni painting. A hard mounatain barbarian body intertwined with that of a sinuous Red Priestess, both spent and glowing.

"Yes you are right that it may be a good joke Nathan is having by holding this event in such a location, but he often has more of an agenda then we will ever know. Have you spoke with him yet this evening?"

[Lady Corrine Marsten]

"I sought him out soon after I arrived. I don't think he knew it was me, but he may, as ever, just be being discreet. He seems to be enjoying it all, the festival of flesh available to him, the opportunity for learning privileged information, and holding a mirror up to the secret depravities of the nobility. Have you spoken with him? Someone was asking me earlier what I thought the true purpose of this carnival might be. I'm not sure if she was perhaps reading too much into it."

[Benedict Marsten]

Ben smirks. "That young man knows more than most maesters I have met. It would not surprise me if he knew each of us. You can believe he is making use of all our weakness by even being here. No I have not spoken with him yet. I am nervous I will give myself away in his presence. This women could be right. Nathan does little with out some purpose." Ben envisioned his wife holding a conversation with one of the numerous costumed women he had spoken with throughout his search for her.

[Lady Corrine Marsten]

"True. He rarely acts without a carefully thought-out reason. I wonder what it is this time. I think if you did speak to him though, he likes you enough that he wouldn't give you away. That charm of yours gets you far. Did you speak to many people? Or did you just doggedly search for me?"

[Benedict Marsten]

"I hope that to be true." Honesty was paramount in a situation such as this. Besides Corrine was understanding. "My search for you brought me in contact with many" He threads his fingers through her red hair. "dark haired ladies. Most quite obviously not my love. Those conversations were short. One, a dark Raven, with emerald eyes, tested your Mountain King." Tested was a safe description.

[Lady Corrine Marsten]

An eyebrow raised.

"Oh? I believe she and I met, by chance. Tested, you say? She was quite lovely, yes. I can see how you might initially mistake us, given the colours you were looking for. In what ways did she test you? Was that why you were so thoroughly eager when you did find me?"

Corrine grinned impishly, as her fingers traced his concealed scars that she knew without sight.

[Benedict Marsten]

Ben did not have the ability for falsities or half truths like his sister. It had never come natural to him. With an embarrassed look he reveals all. He tells of his time with the Raven, the dance, her teasing, but he does omit the story of the girl from his past, for his own sake.

[Lady Corrine Marsten]

Corrine listened, a little pang in her heart to imagine what he described. She pushed it away as foolishness. She trusted him. Even more than before the misunderstanding about Marei. Besides, she had a confession of her own to make.

"That's alright, my love. I admit, it feels a little uncomfortable, but frankly, I flirted with her a bit myself, so I can hardly chastise you. Drink, bare flesh, revelry. It would test anyone. But, we passed. I had a not dissimilar encounter, but let the fellow down gently. No harm done."

[Benedict Marsten]

Worry sloshes about his wine filled belly as he watches her response to his story. Then listening to her own a boyish snicker escapes him at the thought of her flirting with the Raven. It is quickly subdued when word of her test is spoken.

"Uncomfortable yes." He recognizes they both made it where they were supposed to be and smiled at that.

The small spark was there, and looking for fuel to consume. Despite his clearer judgement he let himself seek tinder. "Gently? I should hope he was so with you? And took it well. Any angry bear, dothraki rider, or hero of lost ages would be a danger to their next prey." His line of questioning was mainly to assure himself she was treated well, but also to pry. That thing he knew he should not do.

He had been forthright and detailed in his story. In his test he had strayed close to the line but never crossed. It was bothering that she told so little. Perhaps it was because there was little to tell.

[Lady Corrine Marsten]

"Oh there wasn't any problem. He took it graciously. He was a big fellow, dressed as Orys Baratheon, so I was a bit apprehensive, but he was very polite. A gentle giant, it seems. I was impressed, so I gave him one of the scarves from my costume as a sort of courtly token. He took it gratefully and didn't protest. I don't want you worrying. He won't be a problem for anyone. I think, like the raven lady, I served to warm him up for someone else."

[Benedict Marsten]

"Well warming one up, would seem to fall in a Red Priestess' wheelhouse." She knew how to soothe his nagging concerns and redirect his focus. Had she been more calculating and in the least dispassionate he would worry of her playing him the fool.

[Lady Corrine Marsten]

She gave a soft chuckle and kissed him lightly on the tip of his nose.

"Indeed. I send them to the flames for my magic. Left Orys smouldering so I could work my charms on the King of the Mountains," she added, playfully.

"It's been fun to be incognito for a night. And, for the money it cost, I'll be keeping the costume. No reason not to bring the fire home."

[Benedict Marsten]

He reflexively blinks when kissed. Then returns her laughter with his own. "For the cost you would think there would be more material." Aside from the massive fur cloak they were lying on, the scattered remnants of thier clothing were few, if any in the case of Ben.

"Oh, I would much appreciate the challenge. Perhaps next time we can wager, on who breaks who first." With a devilish smile he slides his fingers over her bare hip to snap quickly at her bottom.

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