The Swan and The Moon ( RP)

[03:11 PM]  Dread Lord Dragoon(dragoondarkwolf): i'd like to hear a story as you spin flax for me.

Tiamet giggles "any story at all?"

Dread Lord Dragoon: know any good ones?

Tiamet nods "aye i do."

Dread Lord Dragoon: good, then come along.
Dread Lord Dragoon: pulls on the rope as he drags her back to the castle, taking his sweet revenge.
Dread Lord Dragoon(dragoondarkwolf): they enter the castle as he smirks and chuckles, leading her inside and up the main set of stairs to the tailors shop. he walks her over to the wheel and turns "you will take that bushel of flax and turn it into thread, my dear". he smirks as he lowers his hand, pointing to the seat.

Tiamet sits down at the stool, reaching into the flax basket, and carefully starting to twist the strands together, her foot gently pressing the peddle to get the wheel turning so that it will make sure the flaxen thread is smooth and even. She nods "fair enough." She watches as the thread wraps around the spindle as it turns. "is that all?" her tone is amused as her hand reaches for more flax, easily working the flax into thread with a practiced hand.

Dread Lord Dragoon: he watches her closely as she begins to work the flax, listening. he replies, no, i'd like to hear a story, tell me a good one". he turns, seeing the chair in the corner as he makes his way over to it and sits down, making himself comfortable as he keeps a close eye on her.

Tiamet twists the flax between her fingers, pulling out small thorns and twigs as she works it onto the wheel. Her eyes ponder a moment looking at the wall. She then lets her eyes move towards his though they're hidden by the glasses. "Do you know the tale of the swan and the moon?" her words lilt as she moves her foot, the wheel clicking cheerfully as she spins.

Dread Lord Dragoon: he listens and thinks for a moment, slightly tilting his head and replies "i haven't". he sits back further into the chair shifting his eyes to the wheel for a moment, watching it spin before putting them back on her hands as she works the flax in them.

Tiamet reaches into the basket taking another handful of flax, twisting it between her fingers, continuing to clean it as she presses the peddle."T'was many moons ago, when the animals could still speak and sing in languages the people could understand." She starts the story her voice mellow and almost sing songy as she spins the thread. "Swan was known to be the most beautiful bird in the forest. And he took the title as his given right, believing that anything he desired he could have." She pauses pricking her finger on a thorn. She brings her thumb to her mouth tugging it loose, spitting the thorn to the floor as she continues twisting the flax and letting it drift along the wheel. "And the other animals did grant him that right. Swan had anything he wanted. But one thing, swan could not find love."

Dread Lord Dragoon: he listens to the story, watching as she pricks her thumb and spits the thorn to the ground. he slowly raises his hand to his chin, resting it on his fingers as his elbow leans into the arm of the chair. he tilts his body and continues listening as he wonders why a bird that could have anything it wanted couldn't have love.

Tiamet reaches for more flax twisting it between her fingers. "Swan was haughty, and as he believed he could have anything he wanted, he could not truly see that which was before and around him.So though goose, and she swan both adored him, he could not see it. Instead he lamented as the other animals celebrated the solstice together, reveling in their primal needs and desires. As he sat at the edge of the ring, the firelight flickering as the sun lowered behind him, he saw the pale white orb of the moon rising on the horizon. His heart skipped a beat, and it was as though he saw her for the first time, the goddess of the evening sky." She pauses her peddling to reach for more flax, checking the spindle to make sure it is not too full. "It was then that swan fell in love."

Dread Lord Dragoon: he lowers his hand from his chin and rests it back on the arm of the chair as he continues listening. he pulls himself forward and lifts his head, trying to catch a glimpse inside the bushel to see how much flax remains before easing himself back in the chair. he begins to wonder if this is some kind of childrens fairy tale but, he listens in silence as she continues.

Tiamet reaches in the basket again, pulling out more flax, spinning it in her fingers as she clears it and works it onto the wheel. "Swan followed her that night, and every night for weeks, lamenting on the evenings when she hid in the shadows, denying him her beauty. Swan sang sadly on the evenings that moon did not appear in the sky, and the other animals slowly came to pity him. For unrequited love is the worst kind of love to fall into." She finds another thorn, hissing slightly as it is unexpected. She tugs it out of her thumb quickly spitting it to the floor with a slightly irritated air. "The animals thought it was a shame that the handsome swan could not see what was befor ehim, and instead poured his song and desire into something he could not have."

Dread Lord Dragoon: he leans back further into the chair, paying no mind to her hiss as another thorn pricks her. he lifts his foot and rests his ankle on his knee as his arms relax on the arm rest, slowly leaning his head back in the chair, knowing that should he drift off, she could not see his eyes.

Tiamet reaches into the basket, frowning slightly as she realizes that the flax is almost spent. She slowly cleans the handful, twisting it between her fingers and letting it move along the wheel as she continues her story. "Then one evening as swan flew, following the moon in his blind desire and adoration, he passed over a pond, spotting the moon in the murky waters below. A frantic pang jolted through him, and he paused in his flight. His view was obscured by his desire and panic, he didn't remember that the moon was above him." She spun more flax, her eyes glancing over to look at him as she pauses.

Dread Lord Dragoon): he rests in the chair, motionless except for his chest moving as he breathes.

Tiamet spins and peddles her foot on the wheel, listening to the soft clicking as she reaches in the basket pulling out the last bits of flax. Spinning and letting the twigs and thorns fall to the floor. She finishes spinning the flax as she slowly settles back on the stool. "Swan threw himself into the water, determined to save the moon from the waters. But the moon hung in the sky, unmoved by his panic and adoration. Swan dove and struggled in the water, eventually drowning himself in the murky cold water." She checks the spindle as the thread goes onto it. "And moon continued drifting through the sky." She rests her hands on her knees. "The other animals mourned the loss of swan, but his love, was seen as having been fool hearty and they did not pity him in his death."

Dread Lord Dragoon(dragoondarkwolf): he hears the end of the story and leans his head forward. he clears his throat before speaking and says "are you nearly finished?". he pulls himself forward and pushes himself up and from the chair as he stands in front of it, looking down at her and shifting his eyes to the bushel.

Tiamet nods lifting the empty basket and showing him the bottom.

Dread Lord Dragoon: seeing the basket empty, he slowly approaches her, shifting his eyes back to her as he says "you may put the bushel down and stand".

Tiamet sets the basket down and stands keeping herself on the opposite side of the wheel. One of her hands brushes the spun thread musingly.

Dread Lord Dragoon: he stares at her for a moment and then turns his head to the spindles of thread, he brings his eyes back to her and says "you will come out from behind the wheel and stand in front of me".

Tiamet frowns a bit moving around the wheel her hands folded in front of her as she pauses in front of him. "yes?"

Dread Lord Dragoon: he shows no expression at all as she stands in front of him. he reaches his hand to his side and slowly pulls back his jacket, feeling the handle of his knife he takes hold of it, pulling it from its sheath as he lowers his head, putting his eyes on her binds as he reaches his other hand for them and pulls them toward him as he runs the blade between them, pulling back on it as he slices through them, letting them drop to the floor. he slowly raises his head, keeping the no expression look as he brings the knife back to his side and re-sheaths it and says "with the thread made, you are free. your story was interesting, perhaps you can tell me another one should our paths cross again".

[04:17 PM]  Tiamet bounces gleefully "thank you. and perhaps....i know many stories...."