Gone, All Gone

Writers: Eimi, Suzee
Date Posted: 10th July 2017

Characters: Bryvin, Sophque, Morin
Description: A moment remembering what shes lost.
Location: Sunstone Seahold
Date: month 12, day 14 of Turn 8
Notes: Note: follows "Finding a Seamstress"
Mentioned: Yriadha, Kiomo

Bryvin

Sophque

Sophque held the shirt in her hands, the one Kiomo had asked her to
mend. She smoothed it with her fingers remembering that long ago day
when she'd been just outside Morin's office. Back then it wasn't her
friend who held the Lord Holder's interest and Yriadha had protected
her. Now it was her turn to use her skills to make sure Yriadha's
condition hadn't been suspected until it could no longer be hidden.
She smiled.

~~begin flashback~~

Lord Sumber seemed to be a man after Morin's heart. Though his Hold
had a long history, it had fallen on hard times after the Plague.
Located in the perfect location between two Weyrs, the return of
Thread had meant their numbweed was now in high demand. This had
given their economy the boost it needed to diversify, and now they
were ready to send their products even further afield. But for that,
Sumber needed ships, and Morin knew Sunstone could build them for him.
If he could share his vision with the Lord Holder, that could give his
own Hold much needed funds for their own building projects, and would
hopefully be the start of a long, and mutually beneficial,
relationship. But first, he had to convince him.

"Are the preparations for the Welcome Feast ready?" Morin asked his
steward, looking out the window to check the angle of the shadows. It
would be another candlemark yet, at least, before their guests
arrived.

"Yes sir," Bryvin nodded. "I still want to do a quick walkthrough to
make certain everything is as instructed. But the Yriadha is very good
and I wouldn't expect anything to be amiss."

Morin just grunted his agreement as he scanned the schedule for the
Lord's visit that lay on his desk. "Are you sure the weather will
hold tomorrow? There seem to be some dark clouds on the horizon."

"The forecast is for early morning clouds clearing in the late
morning," Bryvin smiled. "We should be fine."

"Good." The last thing Morin wanted was to have their parade of ships
planned for the Lord Holder's viewing pleasure to be dampened by the
weather. "I want you to personally inspect the shipyard in the
morning before we take Sumber on the tour. I want it to look tidy,
well organized, and most of all busy. I don't care if men are
repainting the same spot over again. Everyone doing something."

"Of course, I will make certain. We also have a ship on the other side
of Wall Island that will come in and unload at mid-day."

"All right then." It sounded like things were all in place. "My
jacket has a couple buttons that are loose. I don't want one popping
off during the Welcome Feast. Please send for my seamstress,
Sophque." Morin dismissed his Steward with a quick flick of his head.
When he was focused on the task ahead, Morin often forgot the
pleasantries. All he could think about right now was Lord Sumber's
arrival and Feast. The wheels in his head were turning, and they
would not stop for anything.

Bryvin, of course, did as the Lord commanded and it wasn't long before
Sophque knocked on the door. "My Lord," she called from the hall for
the benefit of listening ears. "You sent for me?"

"Yes, come in," Morin called, and when the seamstress entered, he
again skipped over the pleasantries and merely pointed absently
towards the jacket he had lain over the back of the chair by the sofa.
"There are a couple buttons loose. Fix them, will you please."

"Certainly," she said softly and went across the room to the chair
with her sewing box. She sat and picked up the jacket. It wasn't hard
to tell which buttons needed work so she set to it. But she also
watched Morin from under her brows with a soft smile.

The Holder picked up his speech and with a long sigh sat down on the
sofa to look over it again. The wording irked him. Deep down he knew
what bothered him. It was too respectful, too humble. He was talking
to Sumber like his better, and not his equal. Sumber may have "Lord"
in his title, but someday Morin would, too. Of that he was sure.
Hooking a leg up on the sofa with a long sigh, he resolved to push
down his bitterness, like the dutiful "Holder" he was, and read the
speech prepared, like it or not.

"You look tired," she said softly after a few minutes of being
ignored. She'd already fixed on of the buttons and was working on
another.

"Hmm?" It took him a moment to register her words, and a blink longer
to comprehend them. "Oh, just..." He shook the paper his eyes were
scanning, still very much engrossed in the words on the page.

"Morin?" She finished the buttons and put the work aside. Then she
smiled at shook her head. Rising she walked over to him and stook on
the other side of the papers. "Morin?"

He looked up, surprised at the interruption. "What?"

"You've been through those notes at least five times since I walked
into the room," she smiled. "Have they changed?"

"No," he admitted, but that wasn't the point. "We need this, Sophque."

"Yes we do," she agreed. "But your face gets all pinched when you
don't have enough rest. You need to look good for tomorrow," she said
and ran her fingers lightly through his hair. "You need to relax."

Morin's eyes closed briefly at the feel of her caress. She knew
exactly how to touch him to make him give her his full attention.
"It's not tomorrow I'm worried about. I have to give a welcoming
speech at the Feast tonight."

"Well then you need to relax for tonight," she smiled and reached for
his belt buckle.

Morin's first instinct was to protest, to shove her away and stay
focused at the task at hand. But he could still feel the tingling in
his hair, and as she moved, he could smell the familiar scent of her
hair. Whenever he had trouble relaxing, of quieting his mind, that
was when he would call her, and she could come and make the world stop
spinning. Her touch and her smell now had an almost involuntary
effect as his mind automatically narrowed down to only her, to only
this moment. And so he only watched as she made short work of his
belt, and buttons, too.

Sophque hitched up her skirts and sat astride his now bare lap, facing
him with a small smile. "I want a ride," she said in a husky voice.

The paper fluttered to the floor, completely forgot. As he looked up
into her burning eyes, his filled with an equal heat. There was no
need for a reply as his hands reached under the folds of her skirt to
help he with her undergarments. He was ready to give her what she
wanted.

Urgency and need filled her and she grabbed the front of his shirt
while she rode. The fine fabric clutched in her hands simply added to
the pleasure she felt elsewhere. She braced against his chest and the
pattern of the cloth burned into her memory. She kept her eyes open
looking directly into his with every bit of her love.

Morin's eyes never left hers. The hands wrapped firmly around her
hips served only to encourage her to set her pace. His breathing came
hard and heavy as he fought to hold on until he could no longer. He
melted back into the sofa, feeling deliciously weak as the pleasant
glow coursed through every fiber of his being. And still his eyes
never left hers.

Her's crinkled and she collapsed against his chest. "I love this
shirt," she said after a moment. "You should wear it tonight."

"I will. I have to. No time to change now, anyway."

Not even a breath after those words, a soft knock was heard at the
door. "Sir," a muffled voice called from beyond the door, "You asked
to be given 20 minutes notice of Lord Sumber's arrival."

"Yes, thank you," he called back. "I will be there soon." With a
long sigh, he craned his neck to look at the woman laying against his
chest. "Is my jacket ready?"

"It is," she tilted her head up to look at him for a moment before
untangling herself. She stood, smoothed her skirts and went to the
chair. Then lifting the jacket she held it up for him to slip into.
"M'Lord," she said with a sparkle in her eyes.

He re-tucked his shirt and buckled his belt once more. Running his
fingers through his hair, he could still feel the damp reminder of
their love making. He walked over to her, but instead of slipping his
arms into the waiting sleeves, he wrapped his fingers around the back
of her neck and pulled her into him for a deep, heated kiss. Pulling
back only slightly, he whispered against her lips, "You have my key.
There's a book on the night stand. I would very much like to find you
naked in my bed when all this is done tonight. Will you come?"

She responded to his kiss with equal heat. "Always," she replied.

"I'll make sure to send Copper to you when I'm on my way so you can
find a good stopping place," he said with the hint of a smile, knowing
her deep love of the written word.

After slipping on his jacket, he picked up his speech from where it
had fallen to the floor. Neatly folding it, he tucked it into the
inside pocket. He was feeling relaxed, calm, ready. And he knew
exactly why. He paused for a moment to lightly bush his fingers along
his lover's cheek and murmured a soft "Thank you" before straightening
his shoulders and striding confidently out the door.

~~End Flashback~~

Gone, all gone but her memories and their daughter. A single tear
crept down her cheek and she wiped it before it could drip on the
perfect white of the shirt. She sighed and finished the invisible
stitches that would mend the torn cloth. Maybe it was just the luck of
the draw but she couldn't help but feel the loss sometimes more than
others.

Sophine was growing and beginning to question her life. She would have
to decide at the very least what if anything she would ever tell her
about her real father.

Last updated on the July 28th 2017

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Gone, All Gone