Let us eat quickly-- let us fill ourselves up. {Harvest Feast}

[lastofthekellys]

WHO: Kate Kelly
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: 24th November
OPEN TO: E V E R Y O N E
WARNINGS: TBA
STATUS: OPEN

---

Aside from the days when she'd been too drunk or too hungover to get up, Kate's kept a farmer's hours all her life. Even in winter, when the bitterly cold winds that'd come up from the south and make its way through the cracks and holes in her ma's hut, she'd get up, get dressed, do her chores. But lately, it's been harder to extract herself from her bed. Benedict's been sharing her bed more often than not lately, and the chasteness of their interactions does nothing to change how warm and safe she feels. How little she wants to get up, get dressed, go out into the colder spaces of the Inn and do her work.

So, today, she's late getting out of bed - at least, by her standards. She's late getting down the stairs. She's late, so she's hurrying; she lazed in bed, and now she needs to start the fire in the main room. Start the fire, open the shutters, show that the Inn is standing and warm. And welcome, so she moves the -

No, Kate doesn't move the chairs stacked precariously at the front door as a rudimentary alarm of someone, something, coming through, because the chairs are gone. She neither dismisses it as one of the residents not getting the message, nor panics. Instead, she just opens the shutters to let in the dawn light and see if there are footprints, except, no, the snow has mostly cleared. The day is sunny. As welcome as it is, that doesn't help at all. Miss Hoppity jumps down from the foyer's desk to rub her face against Kate's skirt, apparently entirely unconcerned.

Kate eyes the cat for a moment, then approaches the closed doors leading to the main room. Closed, but with light coming through the cracks between door and floor, door and door frame. Cautiously, Kate opens one of the doors and peers in.

Then, she gapes.

The fire is blazing - hot, cheery - but so are the candles. The candles: candles on the unused candlesticks, candles clustered on tables, light up sideboards. Candles bobbing in bowls of water and apples. Candles white, yellow and red, when the village had none. Boughs of wheat, corn, decorate tables and the mantle over the fire, apples and pumpkins and collections of yellow, orange, red flowers seem to be everywhere.

And the food.

Each table is piled high with food. Roasted, baked, cooked on stoves and Kate knows how to cook, she knows how long this would all take, how many people, and it's impossible. What she's seeing is impossible to have done with the resources on hand: even an attempt would have woken up the whole building.

Disbelieving, Kate walks in. For a moment, she's entirely dumbfounded. Miss Hoppity, however, is nothing of the sort. The cat has leapt up onto the sideboard next to Kate and - well, Kate isn't sure what happens next. Just that suddenly there's movement and something large seems to lunge at her. Miss Hoppity yowls and speeds off: Kate screams as she battles something, falling backwards and hitting the floor along with a broken bowl of water, spilled apples and some tiny candles, and her attacker.

Pushing the food-turkey off her, Kate sits up and is, for once, entirely lost for words.

Comments

[warriorborn]

"I do?" he asks, stricken. "Oh, heavens..."

He peels one hand away from her waist to cover his face with it, holding it there for a moment before scrubbing it back and forth vigorously and then letting it drop down to the side.

"You must think me so strange," he says sheepishly, smiling up at her with his eyebrows drawing close together. "I'm sorry. Purring in my sleep! Oh dear."

She calls him 'darling,' and while it has the ring of a habitual phrase that doesn't mean more than absent friendship, he can't help the warm glow it ignites in his chest, taking up residence beside the smoldering heat that her weight on his torso and her kisses have kindled deep inside him. The view she presents, perched on him as she is, is really quite appealing, and even though he's embarrassed, he finds himself smiling helplessly at her.

"You don't ever have to be afraid of me, Kate," he insists. "Never. I promise."

[lastofthekellys]

"I'm not." It's simply enough said, and she lifts one hand to trail fingers over his dear, dear face. She follows his hairline down to his bearded jaw, then brushes his mouth with her finger.

Memorising him, almost.

"Takes a lot for a man to frighten me. And you don't. And," Kate adds, pointedly, as she lowers her face closer, "you been doin' that, and I ain't kicked you out of bed. So. It somethin' I need to worry 'bout, or can you kiss me again?"

[warriorborn]

It's instinct to purse his lips as she trails her finger over them, kissing her fingertip as he continues to stare up at her, mesmerized by the sight of her backlit with golden light streaming in through the window.

He lifts his hands to cup her face, coaxing her to lean down even more so that he might kiss her again, taking the initiative this time and hoping he's not doing it wrong.

Feeling especially bold, he lets his hands drift back slightly to thread his fingers through her hair, thrilling at the feel of it sliding through his grip as he carefully kisses her again, and again, eventually relaxing enough to start up that rumbling, purring deep in his chest again. This time, he doesn't try to stop himself, just huffs a little self-deprecating laugh and continues.

[lastofthekellys]

If he purrs (and he does, he does, it's a low, rumbling, lion's purr), then after a while, she hums. Low, back of the throat; not consistent, but periodic. Particularly when he slides his fingers into her hair, cradling her head against him. Particularly when he tilts his head just so and kisses her like that.

After a few moments, Kate lowers herself fully onto him, her body lying directly on his. It is easier this way, not having to brace against the bed. She can relax into him, as much as her corset allows, and shift to make herself more comfortable. Move her legs (against his) so they aren't coiled in so tight a crouch.

Though that is an issue, isn't it? Where to put her legs now.

But he's kissing her with fervent, enthusiastic adoration, and she doesn't want to try and think about it. She just wants to kiss him back and kiss him again.

So if in the shifting, sliding of limbs, one of her legs winds up between his now, then so be it.

[warriorborn]

It doesn't occur to Benedict that they perhaps should not let her legs slot between his, that it might not be appropriate — but really, who cares about appropriate anymore, when it's just the two of them in the privacy of their bedroom — or that it might be embarrassing for him later on; he just shifts to make room for her, letting his knees splay wider a little so that she can slip her leg between his and settle high up against his thigh. It brings her closer against him, regardless, the warmth of her body spreading through his chest as she lies atop him, her hair sliding down to curtain them both.

Those low little hums of hers just spur him on, making him want to make her make them again and again. He's not entirely sure how to go about doing that, though, so he tries instead to focus on what he's doing, feeling a little bit better about his inexperience since Kate doesn't seem to mind. The rest can come after, when he's not feeling quite so intoxicated, when he can think through the fog in his brain and the incredible distraction of her lips against his.

He lets his hands fall from her hair to skim over her spine, an aimless petting that has one hand settling at the small of her back, the other sliding along her arm, fingers trailing over her bare skin to find her hand on his chest so he can curl his fingers around her palm. He likes holding her hand, as juvenile as it might seem, likes to feel the bones of her fingers slotted between his as her calluses catch against his.

The kissing is great too, make no mistake, but there's something about the quiet intimacy of her hand warm in his that he keeps coming back to.