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lessons

WHO: Kate Kelly
WHERE: Waterfall
WHEN: 20th September
OPEN TO: Benedict Sorellin-Lancaster
WARNINGS: TBA

Kate does not particularly like the forest here. It's too different from the bush of her home, too green and then changing so dramatically when it gets cooler. The smells are different, the shadows are different (oh, except for that strange period when the shadows were right but the sun was wrong), and she'll never forget that time she was lost with Margaery. She will venture into the forests with a group, but on her own? Never.

But today she's decided to stop being a silly little girl, and take Benedict out to the waterfall where the river begins. It is nice to have a day without work, so blessedly nice, although that's not the main reason why she's here. No, she has Plans with a capitol P and they involve swimming.

Kate doesn't trust the river. It changes, and she knows from last year that the weather will turn, and who knows what their captors will think up this time. The best way to deal with a flood is to avoid getting in the water altogether, but just in case...

Well. She'd prefer Benedict know what he was doing. And if they take all day, and make a nice day of it, with some packed food and just them, then it'll be a nice day from whatever weirdness is going on.

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Kate had not told him what, exactly they were doing in the forest. The only thing he knew was that she had all but forced him to help her pack a basket of food for the day, then dragged him out of the Inn by the hand and led him into the trees towards the waterfall. Considering he knows his sweetheart's aversion to the forest in general and the river in particular, this is noteworthy in and of itself. Still, he could never deny her a thing before, and he's not going to stop now, which is why he allows himself to be dragged wherever she pleases.

"Sweetheart," he protests, chuckling as he follows in Kate's wake, her hand warm in his. "What's this all about?"

"A day entirely to ourselves!" Which is true. She isn't much for sleeping in, but this doesn't mean that she doesn't long for the indulgence of just him and her and no one else around. Her work ethic is a hard, punishing mistress, but Kate can work around her when she chooses.

And yet...

"Also," she admits, "a lesson in swimming, if you are not adverse? Without all the distraction of the last few times everyone decided to take off their kit and dive into the water."

"Are you ill?" he asks, laughing again. "Do you have another fever? This is most unlike you."

He catches up to her, letting go of her hand so he can slide his arm around her waist and pull her up against him, ducking his head down to press a kiss first to her cheek and then to the corner of her mouth. "A day entirely to ourselves," he repeats, his tone wondering and teasing in equal measure. "Whatever shall we do with it?"

Her suggestion of learning to swim is met with a small amount of trepidation — Benedict is quite fond of baths, and is even willing to dunk himself in the hot spring or the shallow end of the waterfall pool, but he doesn't like going deep enough that his feet don't touch the ground — but he trusts her, and he knows she would never ask him to do something he's truly averse to. "That might not be a bad idea."

It's a charge to which she can do nothing but plead guilty to, which she does with a rueful smile and then a sweet kiss. "It occurred to me you knew too much of the woman who would work dawn until midnight, and not enough of the girl who used to take off for a whole day to do nothing much," Kate confides. Then kisses him again, because he's here and she can, and she loves him so. "A day with which we can do anything we wish."

She's not wholly surprised when his joy cools, though. To swim is... it is not a common skill, even amongst her own kith and kin. Her brother had taught her, yes, but Ned had always been unusual and solicitous with his sisters, both acknowledging his duty to protect them and yet knowing he wouldn't always be around. More than once, Kate has been grateful for his teachings.

"I'll be here," she says. "And you trust me. So if you get into difficulty, I can help you."

Edited 2017-09-29 02:57 (UTC)

"I do trust you," he agrees, squeezing his arm around her waist and giving serious thought to maybe distracting her from her apparent goal so they can hide away and fool around instead of doing something so practical and useful as learning to swim.

There are no pools in Habble Landing, nor rivers or streams either. Benedict had never seen a body of water larger than a bathtub in his life before he turned up down here. To be around people who found nothing at all strange about such bizarre geography was incredibly odd at first, and though he's grown more used to being the odd man out, he can't quite ever get over his instinctual aversion to large bodies of water.

He lets go of her waist and slides his hand down her arm to take her hand again, starting up their walk back towards the waterfall. "Well, what I wish to do is to enjoy the food you've made me, to spend as much time with you as I can without any interruptions, and then, I suppose, to finally learn to swim."

Perhaps it's a good thing that neither of them have ventured into the strange, mirror village on the other side of the canyon - she wouldn't know how to describe a lake, and she'd imagine it would leave her man fair speechless to see it.

Let alone an ocean. She still remembers the first time she stood on the Melbourne docks and saw that vast, vast expanse of water; she doesn't think she will ever forget it. Certainly, she wouldn't want to go swimming in it, though she think she could bear a ship voyage better knowing that she'd know how to keep afloat. It made ferries slightly less terrifying.

"Ah, putting it off until later?" Maybe she should insist, to relax after, but...

No, she doesn't want to deny the other objective of enjoying themselves.

"Here, I think I saw a nice place over here."

The other good thing about organising the Inn's stores as she does? She knows exactly where the extra blankets are to provide a cover for them to sit on. It's so nicely civilised.

He smirks at her, his eyebrow quirking. "I don't know what you mean," he protests, knowing full well what she means and knowing that she's one hundred percent correct.

She guides him over to where she's decided they should settle down, Benedict happily letting himself be led, the blanket in his basket giving him a very good cue as to what's expected of him, and when Kate decides they've found the place she's got in mind, he sets the basket down and spreads out the blanket before flopping himself down onto it and patting the space in front of him.

"Come here, my love," he says, smiling up at her and once again marveling at his good fortune, that a woman so lovely as Kate would let herself be called his.

All primness and precision, Kate sets herself down with her backside on her feet then she turns coquettish, putting her hands on the blanket and leaning forward. She's not close enough to kiss him, but enough to tease.

"All right. I'm here," she says, all playful flirtatiousness. She knows she makes a charming picture, and she is not above using this to her full advantage when with him.

"What would you have me do?"

He watches her settle herself down, even more contained and polished than any of the girls from the High Houses could ever hope to be, his heart swelling in his chest. It surely shines out of his eyes, how much he cares for her, how perfect he thinks she is.

"Closer..." he coaxes, propping himself up on one elbow and crooking a finger in her direction. "Closer..."

Finally, she gets close enough that he can tuck his fingers beneath her chin and hold her in place for a kiss, one that starts out sweet but quickly grows decidedly less so. When she's thoroughly distracted, he slips his arm casually around her and gets a good grip so that when he abruptly falls flat on his back, she's forced to come with him, winding up sprawled across his chest.

"That's more like it."

She should have expected his move, and maybe she did a little. And yet, there is still a small, soft shriek of delight when he pulls her on him. Which is a sound she can make here without immediately shushing herself - no neighbours, no one living the other side of the hallway or the thin wall. No, just them and whatever wildlife is around.

Which is a nice thought.

"Well, aren't you all cunning," Kate says, seizing a moment of prim back before kissing the tip of his nose. There might be a bit of wriggling, just to make sure she's more comfortable. And if there's any other side benefits...

They are hardly going to mind.

Kate's shriek is met with a low laugh of his own, Benedict enjoying the unbridled delight his sweetheart exhibits without reservation, far too used to them shushing each other out of deference to their sleeping neighbors.

More than once, Benedict has considered asking Kate if she would, perhaps, be willing to move into one of the empty houses that line the village. There are not many, but there are enough, and a house of their own would afford them so much privacy that she might even be willing to walk from room to room in nothing but her shift. He never asked, though, because he knows what her answer would be. Kate's duty to the Inn is too strong to let herself leave it, even just to go live on the other side of the village, no matter how much he would like to to have a house and home of their own.

"I prefer to think of myself as opportunistic." He grins at her, lifting his hand to smooth her hair out of her face, tucking a loose tendril behind her ear tenderly as she wiggles quite distractingly on top of him. "Loosen your stays, my sweet. Be comfortable here with me."

He isn't the only one who has occasionally thought about it, but Kate likewise hasn't said anything. To move would be to admit things - oh, not about Benedict, but about somehow conceding that they were here and it will take longer to leave. It would mean conceding that she's been here long enough that her leaving, even just to make her home elsewhere even as she continued to work in the Inn, would be something of a change. The last of the first wave.

But Benedict will never know his luck unless he asks...

"Ah, opportunistic, such a nice word for it," she teases, still with laughter laced through her words. "And you ask so much of me."

Yet, she does sit up to do as he requests, to duck her hands under her blouse to loosen her corset.

For all that they live as what amounts to husband and wife, they are not yet married. Benedict knows, without having let himself think about it too much, that were he to ask for Kate's hand, she would readily agree. She loves him, she's said as much, and the entire community knows that they are...involved. She does not mind when they bump up against a lack of knowledge of one practical thing or other, has happily shown him what she wants him to do when he confesses his ignorance, and patiently corrected him until he was able to be set loose on his own without supervision. It's hard to remember the boy he'd been when he first arrived, especially when comparing him to the man he considers himself today; he's far more self-reliant and capable than he'd ever thought possible, and it's all thanks to the girl in his arms.

He would like to marry her.

"Nonsense," he chides, grinning widely as she does just what he asked and starts fiddling with the laces of her corset. "Were I to ask so much, I'd ask you to take this off completely."

He plucks at the front of her blouse with teasing fingers, not expecting her to follow through with his suggestion at all but enjoying the banter they've fallen into. There's nobody around, nothing to be heard but the chirp of insects and the occasional call of a bird. It's easy to joke about impropriety when there is little chance of detection.

For a moment, she's tempted to follow his suggestion, even teasing as it is. But she's enjoying this teasing, this feeling of just being able to take things slow with him. No pressing chores, no one listening, and none of the dreadful heat which had made careful so needed a few months ago. So she leaves her blouse where it is, and just bends down to kiss him again.

It starts of teasing, then turns sweet.

She loves him, she does. And wants to say so. So she does.

"I love you. But-" and here, Kate kisses the tip of his nose, "if I'm takin' me blouse off, you're gonna have shed some layers yourself, darlin'."

"Well that's easy enough," he replies, shifting until he's half-sitting up — unfortunately dislodging her a little, but needs must and all that — so he can reach behind his head and grasp the back of his shirt, yanking it hard enough that it slides over his head in one smooth motion, leaving him bare-chested as he lies back against the blanket.

"There," he says, smirking in a clear challenge, one arm lifting to tuck behind his head so he can get comfortable, putting his golden skin on display for her to appreciate.

"Now you have no excuse."

Benedict makes such a lovely picture, for a moment she's not entirely sure what to do with him. Frozen by choice, as it were. Then her lips purse with compressed delight and slyness.

"It's true, it's true. Utterly no excuse."

Still straddling him, she takes off her own blouse, lets it drop, and then slips out of her corset. An extra layer, just for him. She's still wearing her chemise underneath, but her body reacts to the cooler air anyway, nipples hardening slightly against the thin fabric.

"Of course... Now we're half undressed, we could always go swimmin' and then have a nice lunch while we recover?"

Drat, it seems Kate has out-maneuvered him yet again.

Sliding his hands up along her thighs, rucking up his skirt as he goes, he heaves a dramatic sigh and nods. "Alright, that sounds fair. As long as you promise not to let me drown." It would be very disappointing to drown before they even got the chance to get properly married.

Who could possibly anticipate Benedict even having such a thought, let alone having it and having it be a real possibility. The marriage part, he hopes, not the drowning part.

In one smooth clench, he rolls up into a seated position, his arms sliding around Kate's waist to keep her perched right where she is in his lap. "And then after that..."

She giggles as he sits up, pulls her close, a giggle not quite muffled by her lips pressing against his. Particularly not that little flicker of a tongue against his mouth, no, that doesn't help matters.

"No drowning. I promise you, my love. And after that..." A deep kisser this time, though as she kisses him she moves her hands to circle his wrists, tug them away from her body.

"Maybe you can have your wicked way with me."

In the meantime, she gets out of his lap and lets her skirts drop to the ground. She's still wearing her drawers, and these she leaves on: no point in risking temptation.

Well.

More temptation, given the slit in said garments.

Her boots and socks are quickly peeled off, and she takes a few skipping steps towards the river.

"Coming?"

He makes a noise of protest in the back of his throat when she peels his arms away from her waist, struggling a little to make sure his displeasure regarding this course of action is well-known. He doesn't want to let go of her!

But with incentive like that...

"You drive a hard bargain, my sweet," he replies, chuckling, watching as she clambers up and strips down. He's watched her undress so many times that he's lost count, but that doesn't make the sight any less appealing. He could watch her undress for a lifetime and still be fascinated by the sight.

"Yes, yes, I'm coming. Hold your horses." He still doesn't quite know what a horse is, but he's heard the saying enough that he's started to repeat it, the same way he swears to Christ when he stubs his toe or gets particularly exasperated with something.

Following her lead, he leaves himself wearing the underwear Kate has made for him, well aware that they're going to have to lounge around in their underthings for a while to dry them out before getting dressed again, unless they feel like traipsing back to the habble in wet clothes. Or, hopefully, they can just lay them over a nearby bush to dry while they occupy themselves with other things.

One day, she really does have to show him what a horse looks like. That book that Jo Harvelle 'gave' last year, the one on Kate's family, it had pictures of horses. Those images still don't do the animals any justice, of course, but better than nothing.

She walks into the river, wading in until mid-thigh, before turning around and very deliberately dunks herself under the surface. She shoots back up again with a gasping laugh.

"All right, a bit bracing. But not too bad." Certainly not once they get moving. Although it does raise a question, and she tilts her head. "Have you done that yet? Dunked yourself under the surface?"

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