Drinks Among Friends (March 3010) - [Ceolmund, Theodred]
Jan 13, 2018 11:27:06 GMT -5
Post by Ceolmund on Jan 13, 2018 11:27:06 GMT -5
At first, he had not taken notice that his wife had left. The mincemeat pie was in Theodred's hand, and the door was shut behind him. Ceolmund let out a sigh, glancing through the window as he saw the figures move back down the street, torch in Hama's hand guiding the way until they became only dark shadows in the flickering orange light.
“Ceol, looks like someone’s eager for you to finish what you started!”
“Hm?” the man asked as he turned back to his friends, though the slamming of the door was enough to catch his attention and his eyes shot toward it.
“Your wife summons you,” Oswin laughed.
“She does?” Ceolmund chuckled, and shook his head. His cheeks were already ruddy from the mead and brennevin he had consumed, and it seemed they had little room left for showing embarrassment in the situation as they might have if he had not been drinking.
Had he truly spurred her on so well? He supposed, he still felt a warmth in his stomach from kissing her. Perhaps he had gotten carried away… the woman had never done anything to still his advances since they had been married, always urging him onward once he started. Sometimes he hardly knew what had hit him until they were recovering with harried breaths and nothing but warmth between them afterward. Of course, with the guests here? The man had a bit of a dumbstruck expression on his face which set Oswin, Swithin, and Gerlaf into further raucous laughter.
Cenric, however, was not amused and tried to find something to occupy himself elsewhere. The room was still warm enough, but a chill had come in the doorway so he took the chance to add another log to the fire, eyeing Thea as he did so; noting she was also avoidant of the discussion. The change in air was no good for her health, he knew, and so he let the fire begin heating the room again before the bodies now lounging about could do their work.
Ceolmund moved for the bedroom and opened the dor, Wynfled eyeing him open mouthed. “You're going to… he's going to… right now?” she muttered, astounded.
The sight of his wife kneeling over the pail was not exactly a new one; she had been in this state ever since he had returned home two weeks prior. Ceolmund shut the door quickly behind him. Though, he did not like her feeling unwell, it did not startle him so much as it had when she had taken ill the day before he had left on the muster. Runa had assured him it was normal, and even thereafter he had questioned Cynburga and she had snipped back to him that his wife would be quite fine as long as he followed her instructions with the linen scarf. He had rolled his eyes as he had left Cynburga's house that day, though now it did not seem an altogether bad idea to try.
“Cynburga mentioned eating for two, but I didn't realize I'd have to drink for two,” Ceolmund jested in a whisper as he rounded to Runa, trying to lighten the mood as he sat on the edge of the bed and reached to rub her back. This had happened near daily, and he always did his best to try and comfort the woman if he was home when she felt the nausea. Of course she had not been summoning him, he had been ridiculous to think it.
“Runa?” he questioned, suddenly noting the way her hands were shaking. That was not a normal. Ceolmund leaned down to see her face. Her eyes were wet at the corners, and his own widened, his expression falling. What had he done now, he was not sure. He shot up from the bed and went for the washbasin in the corner, grasping to wet a cloth and bring it back to his wife, and help her up, settling her beside him on the bed. He pressed the cloth against her cheek, though did little to actually wipe her face, as his eyes were drawn away back to another bout of roaring laughter outside the room.
“I am so sorry, Runa,” he whispered, coming to the realization of the agonies upon her face. “I did not mean to let Adelais on my lap. I should have pushed her off sooner, I… I froze… I didn't want her there. I've never wanted another but you.”
The man clutched his chest, recalling the woman's touch on him, and his face blanched. He wanted very desperately now for Runa's own hands to erase what had happened and he reached to pull her against him. “It won't happen again. I promise, I have never looked to her the way I do you. I… must have given her the wrong impression somewhere. I don't… I don't know how to fix it.” His hand came to the back of his neck, as the mead flowed through his blood and agitated him further. “I never meant to be disloyal.”
“Ceol, looks like someone’s eager for you to finish what you started!”
“Hm?” the man asked as he turned back to his friends, though the slamming of the door was enough to catch his attention and his eyes shot toward it.
“Your wife summons you,” Oswin laughed.
“She does?” Ceolmund chuckled, and shook his head. His cheeks were already ruddy from the mead and brennevin he had consumed, and it seemed they had little room left for showing embarrassment in the situation as they might have if he had not been drinking.
Had he truly spurred her on so well? He supposed, he still felt a warmth in his stomach from kissing her. Perhaps he had gotten carried away… the woman had never done anything to still his advances since they had been married, always urging him onward once he started. Sometimes he hardly knew what had hit him until they were recovering with harried breaths and nothing but warmth between them afterward. Of course, with the guests here? The man had a bit of a dumbstruck expression on his face which set Oswin, Swithin, and Gerlaf into further raucous laughter.
Cenric, however, was not amused and tried to find something to occupy himself elsewhere. The room was still warm enough, but a chill had come in the doorway so he took the chance to add another log to the fire, eyeing Thea as he did so; noting she was also avoidant of the discussion. The change in air was no good for her health, he knew, and so he let the fire begin heating the room again before the bodies now lounging about could do their work.
Ceolmund moved for the bedroom and opened the dor, Wynfled eyeing him open mouthed. “You're going to… he's going to… right now?” she muttered, astounded.
The sight of his wife kneeling over the pail was not exactly a new one; she had been in this state ever since he had returned home two weeks prior. Ceolmund shut the door quickly behind him. Though, he did not like her feeling unwell, it did not startle him so much as it had when she had taken ill the day before he had left on the muster. Runa had assured him it was normal, and even thereafter he had questioned Cynburga and she had snipped back to him that his wife would be quite fine as long as he followed her instructions with the linen scarf. He had rolled his eyes as he had left Cynburga's house that day, though now it did not seem an altogether bad idea to try.
“Cynburga mentioned eating for two, but I didn't realize I'd have to drink for two,” Ceolmund jested in a whisper as he rounded to Runa, trying to lighten the mood as he sat on the edge of the bed and reached to rub her back. This had happened near daily, and he always did his best to try and comfort the woman if he was home when she felt the nausea. Of course she had not been summoning him, he had been ridiculous to think it.
“Runa?” he questioned, suddenly noting the way her hands were shaking. That was not a normal. Ceolmund leaned down to see her face. Her eyes were wet at the corners, and his own widened, his expression falling. What had he done now, he was not sure. He shot up from the bed and went for the washbasin in the corner, grasping to wet a cloth and bring it back to his wife, and help her up, settling her beside him on the bed. He pressed the cloth against her cheek, though did little to actually wipe her face, as his eyes were drawn away back to another bout of roaring laughter outside the room.
“I am so sorry, Runa,” he whispered, coming to the realization of the agonies upon her face. “I did not mean to let Adelais on my lap. I should have pushed her off sooner, I… I froze… I didn't want her there. I've never wanted another but you.”
The man clutched his chest, recalling the woman's touch on him, and his face blanched. He wanted very desperately now for Runa's own hands to erase what had happened and he reached to pull her against him. “It won't happen again. I promise, I have never looked to her the way I do you. I… must have given her the wrong impression somewhere. I don't… I don't know how to fix it.” His hand came to the back of his neck, as the mead flowed through his blood and agitated him further. “I never meant to be disloyal.”