Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post

[questionablewit]

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blunt girl is blunt sorry not sorry

[takesnoshit]

"Why?"

She hasn't moved her gaze away from him, and her eyes are cool but do not seem to judge, only to seek reasons.

[whattheydefend]

Faramir turns his head to kiss her fingers. He shifts up the bed in order to take her in his arms more fully, caressing her face and kissing her. It is unlike the other times they have done this, for sated as they both are there is no lick of desire to the action--or not yet. Instead there is unhurried, overwhelming love, no less intense but with a different feel to it. The warmth of it covers him like another blanket.

"Éowyn, my heart," he says quietly between kisses, also in Rohirric. "With you I am complete. With you I am content."

Not quite yet. He has a few things to talk to her about first.

[whattheydefend]

Faramir too smiles as he approaches, his expression amused rather than rueful. "I am indeed," he agrees, taking a seat next to her on the stone bench. "And like to remain so. Gondor has not seen a coronation in generations; we scarely know how to begin. I fear if I start listing all the things that must be done, the list alone would fill all the hours between now and dawn!"

He sighs a little and leans back, looking up at the stars overhead. "And yet I welcome it. And the duties of the Steward may not be mine for so very long, after all, once the king is on his throne."

He has never sounded so lighthearted, and looks less careworn than he ever has, the lines on his face smoothed out by joy and relief.

[freo]

Éowyn gives him a sideways glance, her expression hinting at some sympathy. Stewardship of the city is a responsibility Faramir never asked for, never expected would fall upon him; it is clear to her his feelings on it are conflicting, especially in light of just how this duty came to be his. She thinks he may be the one person most looking forward to Lord Aragorn claiming the throne.

He looks younger, all of the sudden, the cares that have weighed so heavily on his shoulders lifted for now. Younger-- and beautiful, the fading light of dusk playing upon his features. She turns her gaze away, to track from the familiar garden paths up to the first stars beginning to twinkle down at them, dotted across Elbereth's canvas.

"How do you think your folk shall receive the new king? Rightful heir or no, he is an unknown ranger to Minas Tirith, whereas all know and respect you." She cannot imagine it will be a completely unopposed transition, even if most would welcome the return of the king to Gondor.

[freo]

"You will be," Éowyn says with a smile. "For I know you, and I know my folk. If they doubt, they will not do so for long."

She lets that sit between them for a moment, before going on more solemnly, "Yet, I will not insult your reasoning and claim all are entirely happy, as you did not with me. But as you said-- if there are those who would disapprove, then let them. I do not think it is possible to please all, regardless of what we do."

Such was the inescapable truth of things. All they could do was their best, and leave any dissenters to their opinions. Smiling with more cheer, Éowyn squeezes his hand. "So, let us both try to instead focus on things that truly matter."

[freo]

Éowyn sighs against his lips, the sound morphing into a quiet hum of pleasure as she kisses back; tender and unhurried, loving this closeness and sense of unity that fills her as they embrace like this. She holds him as best she can, one hand stroking over his shoulder and down his arm before trailing back up again; he has such lovely arms, delightfully toned from years of handling a bow. She could name them her favorite part of his body, but that would slight every other part of him-- how is she ever to decide?

She sighs anew at his soft declarations between even softer kisses; it still gives her a little thrill to hear him speak in her own tongue, moved by the fact that he made the effort to learn in the first place. Her own reciprocal efforts to brush up on her Sindarin have fallen shorter, but she determines to fix that-- if only perhaps after their honeymoon...

"I hope it will always be like this between us," she whispers, carding her fingers through his hair again and leaning her forehead gently against his, overcome with a rush of emotion.

[grumpycatanthir]

He blinks, taken abck by her frankness, and visibly stops bristling, when it's clear she's only interested.

"I don't understand it either." He admits. "It's my grandmother's skill - father was very pleased to see it carried on. But here in Beleriand, apparently it's seen as unmanly, or something."

He thinks it's stupid, but he's gotten too many jeers.

[theywhowait]

He has to stop and breathe for a moment, thoroughly caught up in her, and he meets her kisses eagerly, as they fall into their familiar rhythm together.

"Love you." He murmurs, as his movements grow erratic.

[theywhowait]

"Inside...?"

He watches her avidly and pauses briefly to consider, shifting his fingers so he can continue to attend to her while obeying, carefully watching her as he finds and then slides a finger into the wet heat of her.

"Like this?"

[takesnoshit]

She snorts, turning her attention back to her food. "Foolishness. Talents and skills should be used, by whoever possesses them. To waste such ability in the name of 'manliness' or 'womanliness' is nothing but vanity, and serves no purpose at all. I am good with a sword, not a lute; what use would there be in turning my hand to that which I cannot do well?"

[whattheydefend]

He strokes her body with now easy, familiar caresses, one hand wrapped around her back and the other straying over her arms, her side, her hip. Her body is a joy to him, strong and lithe, soft but muscled, and so very responsive to any touch, so welcoming...he makes a small, wordless noise of contentment into their kiss, wrapping one of his legs around hers.

"As do I," he murmurs, nuzzling against her. "Likely it will not, not quite like this, for wedding nights are by all accounts exceptional. But I have every hope that any changes will be only for the better."

timeskip time, I think?

[whattheydefend]

"Such as returning to the feast hall?" He smiles ruefully, squeezing her hand in return. "We make very slow progress, I fear! I am surprised none have come in search of us by this point. Either we have somehow escaped notice, or I am held in higher esteem by your brother than I thought."

[whattheydefend]

He grimaces very faintly, shrugging. "It will be a mix, I believe. Most will be ready and willing to welcome him, for he is as a figure out of legend to them, the more as he will seem to have been the architect of Sauron's destruction, even should the full truth be known. There are many among the nobles who will be less quick to accept, but I think they will have little choice--and in truth I intend to allow them very little leeway to contest it. The more so as the only means by which they might legitimately protest would be in retaining me as the Steward, and I will make it very clear I am not to be thus used."

There is no question where Faramir's loyalty lies, in this. There never was. He stretches his legs out in front of him, crossing one atop the other. The fact that he will not be easily led alone will cause consternation, for there are many in Gondor's councils who have seen only the face he showed there, quiet and unassuming and obedient to the will of his father, the precedent of his brother. None who ever served him in the field would be thus ignorant, but finding that Faramir has a will of his own, and that it is as adamantine as Denethor's ever was in some respects, will take no few people by surprise. He does not look forward to those inevitable clashes, but they must be done.

He sighs a little, closing his eyes. "A further complication is that Aragorn is not unknown in Minas Tirith after all, I have been informed. Long ago he was here under another name, and served my grandfather--and won a decisive victory and great reknown in so doing. That will both aid and hinder him, I suspect, between those who remember and laud his accomplishments from the time and those who will deem actions done under an assumed name to be suspicious. I forsee a great deal of political manuevering ahead. At least it will be to a worthy end."

And so very, very preferable to the alternatives, where he might now be leading a complete evacuation of the city, striving to get the few survivors as far away as possible, that the race of Men might live a while longer...even if only a while.

He turns his head and looks at her. "But you look troubled, Éowyn. Do you fear for your brother? For I am sure he lives. It is true I have no proof of it, but still I am certain."

[freo]

"Mm-- indeed. Though, I have heard a rumor that not all wedding nights are so pleasant to the bride," she says, a hint of teasing entering her tone. "But I am happy to say such rumor is either false, or other women have not been so fortunate as I in their choice of husbands."

She pauses, her lips curving into a crooked smile. "Personally, I'm inclined to believe the latter is more likely."

we'll pretend that dumb bad cooking part of that scene did not happen

[freo]

Faramir's response is much as Éowyn had imagined and anticipated. His insistence garners a small smile from her. She does not doubt Faramir's strength of will or character, and those foolish enough to do so would learn the error of their ways soon. But when he continues, Éowyn is taken aback slightly by surprise; she recalls well her own astonishment over learning Aragorn's true age, the gift of his Numenorean heritage.

"He spoke little of it; having served for a while in the Mark also, under my grandfather. I had not realized he made his way here as well, though it makes sense." She can well see how that might be an issue now, how such could be perceived in two ways by Gondor's nobles and councilors-- she too shares Faramir's concern about prolonged negotiations and political machinations.

This talk had distracted her some from her own worries, but now they come back to the forefront of her mind at the well-meant question.

"Yes," she admits frankly, sighing slightly. "And everyone else, but chiefly my brother. For I do not much care to think on what will happen if he has fallen like my uncle. Not easily would he succumb, but..." But this was no ordinary circumstance, no regular foe. "I hope very much that your intuition proves correct."

[withoutswords]

She gasps and reaches for him, needing to touch him somehow as he does this most intimate of activities. She pulls him up so she can bury her face in his neck, still gasping as he moves carefully within her, against her. She squeezes around him, adjusting to the strange feeling of being filled by his finger.

[withoutswords]

"I love you." She lifts her legs further up and wraps them around his waist, so she can take him in deeper, welcoming every thrust. "Oh, my Faramir, I love you."

[whattheydefend]

"If such husbands do not put in the effort to ensure their wives are pleased, more fools they," he murmurs against her mouth, not quite kissing her again. "But I am glad you will have no complaints."

His tongue slides back between her lips, languorous and thorough. "Do they say anything about the mornings after the wedding night?" he asks, after some minutes of this.

I don't know what you're talking about that part does not exist.

[whattheydefend]

"You will know for certain soon enough." He reaches for her hand, as they have done so often this day--these past few days. "Two days I would give it, at the most, before we will have riders reaching us with tidings from the Captains. It will take much longer for the armies as a whole to return, but news at least we will have soon. I have already sent messengers with fresh horses to intercept them, that word might be passed between us more swiftly. And from what I have heard of Éomer King, he will not only have survived, but made his foes pay dearly for being so foolish as to stand before him!"

[grumpycatanthir]

He relaxes enough to smile at her for that, a genuine, if small thing that makes him look much younger.

"Even so. I enjoy it. I am good at it. And it has many useful applications - why should I not? I am glad we think alike in this."

[theywhowait]

"Should I ... move it?" He kisses gently, slowly exploring and marvelling at the feel of her.

[theywhowait]

He groans as she does, eyes fluttering.

"Eowyn." He says breathlessly, and has no breath for anything other than her name.

"Eowyn, oh, Eowyn, Eowyn!"

[takesnoshit]

Haleth notices the smile, but being answered is now more concerned with her meal. "To enjoy a thing or to do it well seems reason enough to me. If both are the case, it is wasteful not to. Many turn their hands to skills they have not, in hopes of thereby learning it, and that is fair enough. But to ignore a skill because others think you should not use it--"

She shrugs, tears off a piece of meat with her teeth and chews it, swallowing before she continues. "As well try to teach a fish to be a bird. You would make more progress. People do not become what they are not for wishing it so."

[withoutswords]

"For me." She almost croons the words, clinging to him as they move against each other, flushed and urgent as pressure builds. "Come for me, love, come with me..."

[withoutswords]

Her slight nod is lost somewhere against his neck as she holds him, eyes tight shut. She is a little tense at first but gradually relaxes as she gets used to this new sensation, before long ceases being strange and becomes pleasurable. "...More."