(N1 LOG)Mereavus and Ulrika (warning: explicit)

By popular request, here is the legendary Mer-Ulrika coupling. Enjoy!

Mereavus had been absent for the vast majority of the day, having found getting out of bed to be a particularly difficult task. She'd gone back to her apartment, upturned Violet's things, and found her letters. Before the temptation to shred them overtook her, she put them away for safe-keeping. They might come in useful. She'd changed her bedding to get the damn woman's perfume off it, and collapsed into it. On rising, she'd dressed herself in black. A chilling nightmare of Sam's demise had made her melancholy. She sought the fresh air and solitude of the roof, unable to bear the thought of her friends' attempts to persuade her just yet, and could be found as the sun went down. She seemed to like that time. Leaning her forearms against the side of the castle, she let the sun do its illuminating of her hair, skin and teary eyes without much thought to it. There didn't seem much beauty in the world today.

Ulrika Kergard vaulted up the stairs with the energy of a child, the confining nature of politics and the court having left her with the need to move. A face had been missing today, and it had her wondering, though a single request of the whereabouts of the Lady Varana had been met with a concerned look and a shaken head. Damned closed mouths. At least the roof awaited, her boots falling heavily on the stone as she stretched noisily, grunting with the pleasure of it. Already her overcoat hung open, and as she turned, she caught sight of a black-clad figure. The hair was unmistakable..and something in her pose spoke of deep sadness. Drawing back her own enthusiasm, Ulrika wandered closer, leaning over the railing next to her. A side long glance showed her the tears. "Gnats can be rather painful when they get in your eyes," she remarked quietly, eyes moving out to study the landscape, giving the woman at least that privacy.

Mereavus nodded slowly to the utterance, caring little for her absence in court today; they'd understand, and if they didn't, she'd take them to task for it on her return. Her eyes remained on whatever piece of the horizon she'd set them on, not needing to look to know who stood next to her. "They can," she agreed, her voice slightly heavier than usual, though not with tears. By the looks of things, she was past them by this point. She'd had her last bout of crying not so long ago, and now had settled into the recognition of the abiding melancholy in which she'd spent the last eight years. "But at least it's one method of swatting them." Indeed, Violet would cause her no more pain; her anger had burned her out, her pain over Samuel's demise greater than that of Violet's attempt at claiming her. She said nothing further.

Ulrika Kergard nodded in slow agreement, her hands clasped together against the stone as she studied the horizon. "There is that, but I hate to see your eyes stinging from it." The smile she offered the woman was lop-sided but genuine. Her chest rose with a deep cleansing breath, enjoying the fresh air despite the woman's mood. There was no room for flirtation now, but she did reach out a hand to lay over the Advisor's in silent support. Though she searched for something to say, no words seemed to come, even the questions she had. Grief was a personal thing, and Ulrika was a stranger. If the black clothes were the indication she thought... Her blonde head shook slowly, calloused hand gliding along the Advisor's hand unless she brushed it aside.

Mereavus' eyes travelled once her hand was taken, only to return to the horizon shortly after. The Advisor's hand proved as delicate as it appeared, soft-skinned and slender. Her thumb rose to meet those callouses, apparently not feeling like shunning contact. She left it as a long pause, and then issued her first informing statement. She'd not said these words before. "I don't think my intended is coming back," she murmured, with more clarity than she'd expected. 'Intended' was easier to say than 'Samuel'. The rest of it wasn't so clear, however, and progressively thickened. "They say there's a body in the woods. They also say it's his. He hasn't written. I received a letter with his family's seal and signature asking me where he is. I don't know if it's all genuine. Oddly, that seems to make it worse rather than better." There. Updated. She might well be a widow before she was a wife.

Ulrika Kergard's touch that could wound so easily when the need took her was gentle now, her thumb twining with the Lady Varana's as she kept her own eyes out over the forest. Silence would reign as long as she needed, strong fingers stroking over her soft skin. The King's lips set into a thin line at the news, her grip tightening as the words struggled to make themselves clear. "Of course. If you knew it were true, you could tear your clothes and hair, deal with the loss, but now...now you hold that sliver of hope along with the fear it will be dashed." She paused, tilting her head to look at her, icy eyes cool as always but somehow concern seemed to pierce them. "And if you give up hope, it feels a betrayal to your beloved." She edged closer, hip resting lightly against the Advisor, fingers twining with hers.

Mereavus nodded some, eyes lifting from the horizon to lay more of her attention on more local objectives. She leaned her elbow against the stone, observing the intertwining of hands without expression. "Yes," she answered, no real point denying it - she didn't know if there was anything to betray. The damaged part of her instantly refused all possibility that he was alive; Violet was right, she did ruin everything she touched, and likely Sam had been struck with whatever bad luck followed her like some Hell-eyed puppy. A mirthless smile stole over her lips, and she turned her vision towards Ulrika's face rather than the wrap-around of hands. "I did swat her, though," she mused. "Seeing her bleed is the most satisfying thing in the world." Made to bleed by her engagement ring; nothing seemed much sweeter.

Ulrika Kergard's brow arched when she turned toward her, a small predatory smile growing with those words. "As well you should.." She remarked, just letting her hand rest easy in the other's, a low dark chuckle slipping from her. "Then see that she bleeds until you know the truth of it, and should the truth of it be what you fear..." Her slim shoulders lifted for a shrug, absolutely certain that the Advisor knew where those forboding words lead. "Either way, if I were you, I would use her to express my pain, my mouthpiece as it were." Sometimes there was nothing quite so cleansing as the screams of one who had wronged you. There was no jest in her words, teeth snapping as she spoke, a hint of blood lust in her eyes. "But we have different ways of dealing with things.."

Mereavus nodded some, glancing off towards the stairs and back to Ulrika. "I intend to watch her suffer," she answered. "She insists I've ruined her as much as is humanly possible. But emotional pain is far too intangible. Blood is the only thing I want to see from her." No trace of jest in her voice, either; whether she even had the capacity to joke was unclear. "They have a damned guard following me everywhere," she continued, watching her thumb-nail trail up the side of Ulrika's blunter forefinger. Ever the fascination with hands. "No doubt ready to talk me off a ledge." She peered over the edge of the castilles, brow quirking some. "Wonderful job he's doing. I could well be plastered to the pavement by now, he'd not know."

Ulrika Kergard's tension faded slightly at the assurance that the Advisor would take her due from this gnat. A quiet snort followed her words. "I've often found those who claim such things have no idea what being ruined means..but they can be taught." Unbidden, a smug bitter smile curled over her lips as she glanced down to watch the path of the fingernail, tilting her fingers to allow the nail whatever exploration it wished. "A guard couldn't talk you off a ledge if you decided it, I am certain, Lady Varana. There are others that might, but.." Ulrika shrugged. "You owe pain. I have a feeling that you are not a woman to give up until all of your debts are paid." The smile on her face was anything but happy, a grim settled look. "And then if you decide it is your time, once you know the full truth of it..then no one could stop you. For I doubt you would be rash in such a decision."

Mereavus's nail seemed to be almost absently exploring whatever was in reach of it whilst her mind worked. She'd already decided what she'd do if it was true. "Unfinished business keeps me here," she answered, as though talking of what she had for lunch, or her plan for an afternoon excursion to a nearby landmark. "If it is true..." She wouldn't fill in the gap with the whole plan; wait a year, until Danele and her child were settled, name that child her estates' heir in her will, leave it everything. Invite Emersyn to the castle for several months, and distance herself until Danele had no real need of her. And then vanish. Perhaps she'd be revisiting this spot in a year, to greet the pavement with velocity. Or perhaps she'd drown herself. There was supposed to be a moment of calm before drowning to death. "I know what I'll do, and how. That certainty keeps me a little sane, at least. I'm not quite mad yet."

Ulrika Kergard barely kept her hand from twitching, fingers and palm unused to such touch, but if the Advisor drew small comfort in dragging her nail over her hand, the King would not deny it. Her blond head nodded slowly as she turned to lean her back on the railing, still keeping that smooth delicate hand in her own. "It will for a while. You're a woman of many responsibilities. But be certain you know the truth of it before you decide anything." Twisting the woman's hand in hers, she brought it up for a light brush of her lips. It was not unusual for word to be brought back of a man's death in battle, only for his wife later to find it was a mistake...so much the worse for those that ended it. "It is the one thing you can control right now. I can't grudge you your plan, m'lady. Sometimes such things are all we can hold to."

Mereavus nodded some, watching the light kiss with a small, though unhappy smile. "Responsibilities are damned awkward when it comes to wanting to fall off the edge of the earth," she commented drily. How dare life intervene when she didn't want it! "I'll have the truth out of her," she assured her. "Though from what I can discern, the rumour was around before Violet had a hand in it. So it may well be that she knows nothing." She lifted her shoulders in a delicate shrug, forefinger's side drifting down the side of Ulrika's jawline whilst it remained near her face. "Until then, not worrying Danele is my priority. Appearing fine is what I do best." Appearing, indeed. Faking optimism left a bad taste in her mouth, but causing the Queen stress now was in poor form. And she'd not be on bad form.

Ulrika Kergard's eyes lingered on the Advisor's face, reading what she could though even now, her ticks and tells were less than most. "Indeed they are, but let the need for the truth from her and the need for her to suffer anchor you, Lady Varana." Surprise fluttered over her pale face at finding the woman's hand stroking over it, and she turned to touch her lips to the soft palm as if by instinct. Her brow furrowed when she realized what she'd done, and she let her hand fall to the Advisor's waist, supporting firmly, thumb gliding along the black bodice. "Certainly you do, but there are times when everyone may not appear so. If you find yourself wanting a place to drop that guise..." Her tonguetip touched her lip, realization of what she was saying making her smirk slightly. "My door is open to you, Lady Varana. Perhaps I'll breech a cask of mead and we'll get roaring drunk, hmm?"

Mereavus actually smiled something of a genuine smile at the suggestion, beginning to nod in agreement with it - drunk sounded wonderful right about now. Her attention, however, was caught by a young courier emerging, and she moved off from contact the moment footsteps went to the steps. She took a relatively crumpled piece of parchment from him, opening it out to scan over. At first, an expression of relief, but it soon tensed into only further worry. She bit her lower lip, thanked and dismissed the boy, and then meandered back over to the castilles. "You know, your Majesty," she answered, belatedly. "I could really do with getting absolutely gazeboed right about now." She let the letter hang from between her fingertips, white teeth still over her lip. Ouch.
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Ulrika Kergard tensed at the appearance of the courier as if he were some sort of threat, the icy gaze of the King boring into the lad. Hands clasped appropriately behind her back as she silently observed the countryside, once more giving the Advisor the privacy she thought she might wish. Still, she couldn't help watching from the corner of her gaze, the relief a welcome sight. Her brow rumpled slightly, but she made no request for information as she nodded. "Then let us be away to my quarters, Lady Varana. Cyrus is occupied for the evening, so we shall have it to ourselves." Yes, Nharati must have driven her absolutely mad, or perhaps it was the advisor..Ulrika couldn't be certain which one as she elegantly offered a crooked arm to the slightly taller woman, shooting her a dashing grin. "Shall I have food brought too, m'lady? Or just the mead?"

Mereavus refolded the letter and smudged out the creases, taking a brief moment of comfort in the fact that he'd touched the paper, at least. It had some semblance of Samuel on it. Sent in the forest, before he arrived. Instead of reassuring her, it hit a raw nerve, and her mind unconsciously responded with despair. "Let's not offer the alcohol anything to be sponged by but my senses," she answered. No food, then. Just something to addle her mind, wash out the pain with sheer percentage. She slotted her arm through Ulrika's and settled her hand over her bicep, really only focused on the drinking rather than the possible slightly more perverted possibilities. She was so sure Ulrika's flirting was entirely in jest, so she left it as simply one of those evenings where she could pass out on a divan and want to die the morning after.

Ulrika Kergard nodded as she began marching down the stairs with the Advisor on her arm. "As you desire, m'lady." Guards greeted them at the bottom of the stairs, and the King rolled her eyes at them. "Just to my quarters, you bastards.." A few steps led them to the royal guest rooms that the pair had occupied since their arrival, as sumptuous as one might expect in the castle and fitting to their station. Shutting the door behind her, she spread her hand toward the room. "Make yourself comfortable, Lady Varana. I shall get us mugs and mead from my private stock." True to her word, she clattered down the stairs and rummaged around, coming up with the mugs and a freshly tapped cask that she poured for them from. The mead was fierce and aged, stronger than the ale they seemed to prefer around Nharati, taste sharper. "To repaying debts!" Ulrika toasted, tapping her mug against Mere's before downing a gulp and slumping into a chair with a wink.

Mereavus toasted with it, and took a long look at the mug. Not really what the Lady Varana was used to drinking out of, but no matter. She continued regarding it for a long moment, and then promptly set to drinking. She didn't stop at a sip. Or a gulp. In fact, she seemed bent on draining the whole potent contents. Her eyes squeezed shut slowly, the taste being quite overpowering, but she was intent on getting off her face. Perfect demonstration of Nharati womanhood for Nyrthlond, she was sure. She placed the mug down on the table once it had all gone, those easily drawn lines of her cheekbones highlighted in something of a grimace, and her eyes opening a little. She coughed, and then pushed it across the table. "Could I have a refill, please?" she enquired, that hoarse sound of having drunk too much too quickly shortly making her cough. Elegant, Eave.
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Ulrika Kergard shrugged out of her overcoat to leave it lying over the back of the chair before bending to untie her boots while Mere finished off her mug of mead. Not entirely unexpected given her state, but Ulrika couldn't help smirking at her toes as she bared them. Legs stretched out in front of her as she lounged in the chair. Pushing up for a moment, she refilled the mug with a nod, sliding it over to the Advisor. "But of course!" The King nursed her first mug contentedly, not having quite the need of the other woman to get completely soused. Mead left one with a fearsome headache the next morning. Setting her own mug aside, she continued getting more comfortable, tossing aside the leather band she habitually wore around her head, blonde hair falling in disarray around her face. "How's that feeling, my dear lady?" She crooned, grinning cheekily, head lolled back.

Mereavus drew the mug back once she'd had a refill, quite happy to deal with whatever Hell was unleashed on her the next morning. "Give it a minute, and I think I'll feel moderately better," she answered, taking a more dignified sip of this particular mug. She paused, and then smiled. "Yes, there it is. I'm going to hate myself for this in the morning." But another sip suggested she wasn't quite so concerned. She remained in all her finery, black wolf fur still on her shoulders, diamond and onyx jewellery where it should be. No gloves, but she didn't own any black ones. She'd need to remedy that at some point, she supposed. Still posed, no drunken slouching for now. Would she even slouch when drunk? Perhaps it was so innate that she could remain sloshed and elegant at the same time.

Ulrika Kergard chuckled into her mug as she nodded. "Oh, yes, you are, but it'll be worth it." A smirk trickled over her lips as she set the mug down, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Narrowed eyes roved over her drinking companion suspiciously, and she finally shook her head, sprawling in her seat once more. "Relax, woman. You can't possibly enjoy mead if you're sitting there like you've got a stick up your arse." A finger waggled playfully at her. "Trust me on that. Besides, this wasn't to see how much mead it take for you to stop seeming fine. Just let it all hang out!" She flopped so hard against her chair that the legs creaked, and she snickered as she topped off both of their mugs. "Maybe you still need a bit more..."

Mereavus smiled some at the comment, glancing down at herself and shaking her head some. "This is relaxed," she answered, corners of her lips quirkin past the mug rim. "I never learned how to slouch. Even when I masqueraded as a boy." She took a long sip, and set the mug down in her lap, and laughed a little. "Besides, even if I knew how, corsetry makes it impossible." Another sip, and then the second mug was pushed back towards the centre of the table. She was beginning to feel less, which was wonderful, and much like a breath of fresh air. Perhaps alcoholism would get her through the last year of her life. No doubt she'd feel differently when the hangover struck, and half of her night was blank. Still, she'd deal with tomorrow, tomorrow. For now, there was just now.

Ulrika Kergard rolled her eyes expressively, having a momentary amusing flash of what it must be like to bed a woman so rigid..Mere on top still sitting up straight. Another chuckle slipped from her, a pointed look running over her corset, a suggestion seeming to hang on her tongue but she exchanged it for a simple mock. "See, ridiculous woman's clothing. Mine is much more comfortable." Indeed, out of the coat, her tunic hung loose, allowing her plenty of room to relax. She drew a deep breath, a smile wandering over to the woman's face as she let it seep out in a sigh. "I think you need to learn both how to relax and to slouch, but then I'm utterly uncivilized and haven't the faintest clue how a woman should behave." An impish grin trickled over her face, hand tugging at her wolf fur.

Mereavus ran hr fingertips over the front of that corset lightly, sighing and nodding her agreement. "It is ridiculous," she answered. The Advisor's brow quirked at that last statement, and she set to another sip of the mead. On her way to being quite merry. "I think you do," she countered, one elbow leaning on the arm of the chair and her eyes passing a brief, noncommittal glance at the fur-tugging hand. "I think you know very well how a woman should behave. If you didn't, you'd not take so much pleasure in countering it." She placed the mead mug on the table, deciding that getting too ratarsed too quickly would be entirely pointless, and she'd pass out in an hour and lay to waste a perfectly good, distracting evening. Talking about behaviour and posture and being entertained proved preferable to being an unconscious, queasy heap.

Ulrika Kergard's face broke into a grin easily, and she batted her lashes in utterly feminine, if overdramatic, fashion. "My dear Lady Varana, I do believe you've happened on my secret." A hand fluttered to her forehead in a mock swoon as she laughed. Eyes still twinkling, she set her chin in her palm as she studied the Advisor. "It wouldn't be nearly so much fun if I didn't know just how far I was straying, tis true.." She conceded, pausing for a substantial drink of her mead. "If you'd like, I can find you something less confining to wear as you certainly cannot relax in that bloody thing." Shrugging carelessly, she gave another little pull on the fur. "Or you can just go without it all together. It makes no matter to me."

Mereavus' brow half lifted at the mention of the thing coming off, wry smile appearing and a vague gesture made towards her bodice. "I think we already established that your clothing and the twins wouldn't get along very well," she pointed out. "And as much as your clothing intrigues me, I'm not sure stretching it would do wonders for my ego." She rose from her chair and meandered over to the fireplace, hands rising to the laces of said corset and beginning to work them open. "It's always the most queer sensation getting out of one of these things," she commented, fingertips deftly working the laces loose and out. "Almost as though you're too flexible, and your spine made of string jelly." It came off a moment later, with a creak of complaint from it and a rather more relieved sound from her. Illuminated skin made both her flat moles and the silver scar at the base of her spine more obvious, skirts still clinging onto her hips. Svelte as ever, with the fur shrug covering the twins to spare her decency. She turned back and draped the whalebone and satin piece over the arm of the chair, posing a moment with one hand on her hip and the other fluffing her curls. "I'm sure I could make this a new fashion over the summer," she decided. "Just to flabberghast the menfolk."

Ulrika Kergard shrugged lazily. "But I've got robes and the like..." A dismissive hand waved off the suggestion as the Advisor rose, Ulrika far from objecting if she simply wanted to bare herself. Unexpected, but certainly not unpleasant. She thought to help, but realized her rough fingers would likely cause more trouble than assist, instead sinking back against her chair to observe in amused fashion as she drank her mead. "The once or twice my family managed to get me in one of those, the only saving grace was getting out of it..." Unreservedly, her eyes raked over the exposed skin, lingering on the moles and the scar a moment longer than the rest. Her lips curled appreciatively as she tilted her head to inspect the new ensemble, finally nodding in agreement. "You pull it off quite well, Lady Varana. I'm sure it would be all the rage." Fingertips brushed at the buttons of her collar as she grinned. "Is it unmannerly to let you be clad so while I'm fully dressed?"

Mereavus reseated herself, spine still straight, and reached for her mead with a light laugh. "I think that depends whose cultural rules we're going by," she answered. "In Nharati it tends to lean towards what the men want rather than what the rules say. And naturally, you being the one in the trousers, that would be you. I'm not sure the term 'clad' can be applied to myself at present." Indeed not, though reasonably she was still perfectly decent. Comfort didn't apply with corsets. Decidedly unclad stretch of torso, however - slightly conscious hand passing over her scar a brief moment before she took a sip of the alcoholic beverage. A bit inebriated, perhaps, but one wouldn't guess it - no slurring, no slouching, nothing of the sort in fact.

Ulrika Kergard's fingertip pressed into her own cheek as she shook her head still, watching the woman. "You're wrong. It's not the corset that keeps you so stiff.." The urge to drag her fingers along that exposed skin certainly was growing, but she kept her hands to herself for the moment, chuckling at the reasoning. "Hmm, is that so? I thought it worked that you manipulated the men into doing what you want?" Slitted eyes focused hard on the Advisor's face, as if trying to bore into her. "But just what is it you're trying to manipulate me to do? I shall have to see if I can deduce that." For the moment, she simply left the collar of her tunic unbuttoned as she rolled to her bare feet, shooting the Advisor a grin after another draw of mead. "So I shall do what you don't expect...would you like to see a work of art that I brought with me?" Innocence painted her pale face as she brushed a strand of hair from it. "I don't normally show it to people, but you ..you have enough taste to see the beauty of it, I think..."

Mereavus' animated brows lifted at the mention of this piece of artwork she had to show her, making a 'by all means' gesture towards her. "Perhaps I'm manipulating you into thinking that I'm manipulating you," she commented, placing the mead back down. Odd sight, to be so formally clad, earrings, necklace, bracelets and all, and yet be missing a slightly important piece of her clothing. But, as ever, her curiosity was easily drawn, and she wanted to know just what sort of art required her particular tastes to appreciate. "Art, you say? Interesting choice of topic, but I can run with it." Varana was a House of art, naturally, never mind the homoeroticism and all that sort of thing that accompanied that artistic streak. Perhaps that was the entire point.

Ulrika Kergard contemplated the Advisor with a feigned scowl for a moment. "Too true..in which case, I suppose I shall just have to concede to your skill." Her voice faded with the comment as she disappeared down the stairs once more, the sounds of a trunk opening and the woman shuffling through belongings rumbling down there. Finally, she emerged with an ornately carved stone box and a small key, carrying both to the table with a triumphant grin. Humming quietly to herself, she unlocked the box and opened it just a hair to make sure its contents were still safe. They were, indeed, and she turned it to face the Advisor as she opened it slowly. On a bed of blue velvet, it rested..the unmistakable phallus carved from ivory. The detailing was exquisite, veined and curved, a head just as any real one might have while it extended in the back, curved to press into the wearer both outside and inside. Ulrika Kergard's eyes lifted to watch the woman's face with curiousity, less to shock than the item might have been usually ..genuinely wondering what she might think of it. The ivory itself has been tended to carefully, smooth to the touch for Ulrika herself oiled and waxed it frequent, no hint of shards or painful friction. The leather harness she'd left in her trunk..that piece more servicable than beautiful.

Mereavus awaited the contents of this stone box expectantly, obviously intrigued expression on her face. On the lid's opening, she very promptly began to laugh, and shook her head some. "'Art', hmmn," she commented, though she did lean forwards to look at it. "Is that what they're calling it these days..." She lifted one middle finger to touch the item very gently, brow quirking at the texture, and a thoughtful expression striking her. "Ivory?" she enquired, apparently still interested in it, as she was looking it over. "I haven't seen one of these in years," she mused, as though actually considering a painting or sculpture. "I've only ever seen leather ones, and they can be quite uncomfortable. Laces aren't the most convenient things in the world." Way to make it inconspicuous that you've used one before, Eave. Perfectly subtle.

Ulrika Kergard chuckled as she sunk into her seat, nodding. "It is a work of art, despite what it might seem.." She countered, her eyes lingering fondly on the piece as fingers reached in to stroke over the base lightly. "Mhmm, ivory..it's so smooth." A throaty purr seemed to rumble through her as she spoke of it, only pausing for another drink. "Leather is most troublesome, splits on the seams, all sorts of problems. One such as this.." She shrugged, anything more she said would be too easily lewd, and the grin on her lips spoke for her. Unsurprising that the woman had found herself using such a thing before. "There are benefits. .." Gently, she lifted it from the cradling velvet, the shaft held in both hands before the woman for her to observe more closely.

Mereavus did indeed examine the item closer, given that she'd probably not see another in her lifetime, and tilted her head some. There was a long moment where she seemed to be considering, and then a wicked smirk appeared on your lips. "I wonder," she began. "Just how many times you've had your brother bent over some convenient piece of furniture with this." No shame in that statement, if the prospect disgusted her, clearly her amusement won out. She leaned back once she reasoned she'd seen enough of it, and one hand swept up through flame-licked tresses. "I can imagine it has its benefits," she mused. "Leather's harder to sculpt to the wearer, too. And if it's not going to be enjoyable at both ends..." She left it hanging, hands splaying in a 'sort of pointless' type gesture.

Ulrika Kergard couldn't help dragging her hands along the smooth length before placing it back safely in its case, a smirk curving over her lips. "More than I can count.." She answered unashamedly, Cyrus rather fond of that piece of work. They'd had others before it, of course, but none nearly so fine as it..an indulgence that neither had any interest in resisting. A brow lofted toward the woman though for her ready acceptance of that, nodding as she spoke. "Oh, indeed. And this was made to my specifications. There's nothing quite like a perfect fit." Leaving the box open, she scooted it away from them a bit, still leaving it in full view as she grinned. "And I'm far too selfish not to have it be fun for me...so..." A wink as she settled back with her mead, a hint of a flush starting along her pale cheeks.

Mereavus smirked some, elbow propping itself on the chair arm and two fingertips going to her temples. She continued looking at it for a while, before dragging her eyes up to said pinking cheeks. "I've only ever been on the giving end once," she answered, looking vaguely amused. "Which was a complete hilarious disaster. It simply didn't work." With Violet, in fact - that silenced her mockery of the woman's tendency to orgasm quickly, for certain. An epic failure would do that. The image of Eave taking it to another woman simply didn't seem to fit - something in the width of her hips, natural delicacy of her body and plain ladylike mannerisms suggested that humping away simply wasn't her style. The vision wasn't exactly a flattering one.

Ulrika Kergard found herself relaxing quite pleasantly with her mead and company, lips curling as the woman spoke of her experiences. "A disaster? Oh, if it's hilarious, you have to tell me..and the first few times I tried one, I was .." She shook her head, thankful that it was Cyrus who had been her victim of such experiements for mortification of that sort with others could not be borne. "Although I do confess I have a bit of trouble envisioning you giving it to some pretty girl...." Her head tilted as she contemplated it, trying to visualize it. Even in her fantasies, she wasn't on the receiving end..watching instead until she shook herself from them with a grin. "Much better to see you bent over instead, hmm?" A devilish glint entered her eyes, far more involved in this particular thought process in her mind.

Mereavus laughed lightly, shaking her head and lifting her mead to finish cup number three. Surely drunk by now. "Ladies don't bend over," she answered. "Self-respecting ladies in Nharati get on their backs, point their heels to Heaven and think of fur and money and whoever else they happen to be doing the same for." She leaned back in her chair, smile growing at the relaying of that particular disaster. "It failed at the outset because she saw me with it on," she chuckled. "And most of them look utterly ridiculous, so the mood died completely. And after that..." She paused, addling brain trying to think of a delicate way to put it. "Let's just say my hips can't move it in that particular fashion, and that I'm far more suited to pointing my heels to Heaven."

Ulrika Kergard helpfully filled the Advisor's glass, still slowly working her way through her own second mug as she rolled her eyes. "Then self-respecting ladies have no fun in Nharati, which would explain all the fascinated stares I've gotten. Perhaps they hope there's a little more to me than fur or money?" As if the woman could shed light on it, she arched a brow toward her. Lips quirked amusedly as she relayed the story, the King snickering as she shook her head. "They do look quite foolish, especially the leather ones..And unsuited to a fine lady such as yourself.." It was impossible not to grin as a woman such as the Lady Varana explained such exploits and skills only partially clothed, that expanse of skin still drawing the King's eye from time to time. "You prefer to be read to rather than do the reading, hmm?"

Mereavus smirked and nodded, lifting the mead to her lips yet again. "Quite," she answered, making a gesture towards her head. "Far too much effort involved in reading, my poor womanly brain can't handle so much thinking." She looked down at the mug, sighing some. "I'm just about to pass the threshold of remotely sober into completely off myself," she mused, biting her lower lip in consideration. "So I'm going to apologise in advance for any over-laughter, crying, inappropriate comments or further disrobing. I am not responsible for my actions from this point onwards." And she drank anyway, taking something of a sizeable mouthful and making that mildly disgusted expression again. Time to descend into complete numbness, and a blurry world where nothing hurt.

Ulrika Kergard crooned condescendingly as she reached out to pat the woman's head, a rather absurd picture given that the King was the shorter one. "There there, dear, you needn't strain your brain so. I'm quite skilled at reading." A glance toward her own mug showed it was closing on empty, and two was quite enough..more and she'd regret it in the morning. After all, wasn't the point to get the Advisor rather gone? "No need for apologies, Lady Varana. After all, I offered the mead and suggested the disrobing. I'm really just a terrible predatory influence on the good innocent women of Nharati." Her fingers played through those bright curls lightly, chuckling at her distaste for the drink. "I'll corrupt you all." Her fingers found their way to the Advisor's jaw, gliding along it lightly, hoping this was at least some small surcease in her misery.

Mereavus, despite her relatively easy laughter, was in one of those odd states where the balance was terribly fragile - a quiet moment was enough to set her to brooding, and brooding let to further sadness. Distracting her proved easy enough. Make her forget she was ever engaged. She'd just finished another sip when the fingers reached her jaw, light laugh escaping her. "I'm not sure there's much innocence in this castle left for you to corrupt," she commented, cheek turning towards wandering fingertips slightly. "Except mine, naturally. Terrible influence on me." Hand rose whilst she spoke, nails drawing patterns over the nearby wrist and drifting down what inner forearm she could reach. Generally a naturally affectionate creature, it wasn't hard to get unconscious gestures out of her. "It was all your idea," she agreed. "Clears my name entirely. One can hardly deny the suggestions of a King, after all."

Ulrika Kergard's eyes twinkled at the mention of that. "Indeed... I stumbled upon the King's private garden the other day. So much for innocence." The conversation in that garden had been quite pleasant, and the woman alluring in her own fashion, but now she had an absolutely charming and rather drunk one in her chambers that she found quite riveting. Skin prickled beneath the play of her nails as Ulrika's rough thumb glided over her cheek, toying at the edge of her lips. "Mmm, I know. Showing you such lewd things, as if you'd have any desire to see them, tearing your corset from you.." Her tongue ticked against her teeth as she nodded. "Oh, of course not. I find I'm rather enjoying this King thing.." Smirking, she leaned across the table toward her, free hand tracing the upper edge of her shrug as pale eyes lingered intently on those dark ones. Lips crept just within reach, breath teasing over the Advisor's skin "..should have done it years ago."

Mereavus had passed the point of being able to control herself or her obvious outer expressions some time ago - this would be why she never usually drank heavily in public. The mask tended to fall right off. As a result, her fingertips and nails grazed upwards over said King's upper arm, shoulder, throat and jaw, settling themselves more towards her ear. The more telling movement was in said dark eyes; the lean made them lid a little, and glance first down towards the lips in such close proximity, back up towards icier pairs, down, and back up again. Lidded the entire time. Her heartbeat had taken a very distinct quickening, chest all too aware of a hand nearby. She almost forgot to reply for a moment. "One would hope so," she murmured, making no move forwards - at least, not an obvious one, there did seem to be an element of natural gravitation. "The whole point of power is to enjoy it."

Ulrika Kergard felt the graze of fingers through the loose sleeves of her tunic, watching the slide of them through the corner of her eye. Head instinctively tilted into them, though her lips seemed utterly occupied with hovering in close range to the Advisor's. It was difficult to keep her eyes from lidding so, but Ulrika drank in the sultry difference in the woman as her hand shamelessly stroked the shrug open, long calloused fingers sweeping the valley between her breasts. Even in that moment, philosophy on ruling rose to her mind, brain wanting to answer and argue with that, but she silenced herself by bringing her lips to meet the enticing ones so close. Fingers dipped into her hair to bring into the crushing hungry kiss, Ulrika's tongue unashamedly dancing over her lips, tasting the mead along with the taste of her.

Mereavus' mind wiped. The gluing connection of mouths came with something of a low murmur from her throat and a sharp exhale from her nose, her own digits slipping into the blonde mass past the ear she'd been so close to. Mead and a female mouth had both thoughts and pains nullified. An older, deeper distraction than alcohol. Her eyes closed on contact, heartbeat flaring underneath the hand at her sternum and the lack of space between her crossed legs becoming quite warm. It had been over a week, and for a woman so recently renewed of her pleasures, that was far too long. But more than that, it proved an odd form of comfort, sad though it might be. Her tongue emerged with a very instant heat, not bothering to begin with the shallower presence that usually came at the beginning of such tangles, but reaching directly for its counterpart.

Ulrika Kergard's tongue swept over the Advisor's to plunge into her mouth, the greed of her lips without reserve and without hesitation. The slow creep of her hand between the woman's breasts shifted, demandingly pushing away the covering fur so she was bared from the waist up. The heady mix of mead and perfume had the King's heart thundering, and the fingers in her hair tightened, jerking the woman's head back so hungry lips could sweep down the graceful curve of her neck, a low beastial growl rumbling from Ulrika. Without any sense of delicacy, her hand closed around one of those offending twins, palm grinding against her nipple as short nails raked over her flesh. The King inhaled sharply against her neck, breathing her in before teeth dragged down the side of her throat, tension rippling through her body.

Mereavus' mind, if it had been wiped at a kiss, went entirely obliterated the moment lips hit her neck, and her lips parted to permit quickened breathing to gain some air. Her spine bent to press towards that hand, one hand creeping over her shoulder and the other remaining at the back of her neck. There was no graceful way to open her legs presently, so she simply didn't - if she could remember this tomorrow, she'd no doubt be amused by that contradiction. No fur rendered porcelain breasts exposed, a combination of air and arousal setting already relatively small nipples to gathering. The guttural sound was met with a distinctly more effeminate, voice-backed exhalation that spoke volumes about why she didn't make a good 'reader'; she might ordinarily be a dominant partner, but she was far from manly.

Ulrika Kergard found herself frustrated as she was gathering the delicious woman toward herself, the arms of the chairs and the table simply in her way. Lips closed on her delicate collar bone, burning over her flesh even as the King rose from her seat, kicking the chair back so it tipped and crashed to the floor. Patience was not one of Ulrika's finer points, her hands leaving the woman that her lips could not to drag her chair back, the sounds in her ears sending a warmth through her that drew another deep grumble. "Stand.." She snarled into her neck, the hand at her breast forcefully pulling upward as the one at her neck guided the woman's mouth to her once more. Her tongue dove in, exploring greedily as she began backing her toward the wall.

Mereavus hit the wall with a low, breathless sound into that invasive kiss, body instantly pressing itself outwards to meld with Ulrika's whilst one leg bent up against the nearby outer thigh, black skirt masses obscuring the actual limb from view. Taller, perhaps, but Ulrika's more masculine persona and hostile impatience demanded her to take on the role of an aggressive submissive, choiceless but certainly suited. One of her hands descended to the ties of said black mass of clothing, tugging at the laces that kept them to her hips and making a mild sound of relief once she felt the rush of air to long, smooth legs and heard the sound of the heavy material collapsing to the floor. Black underwear too, apparently, only in simple lace. She'd hardly expected to be baring them today.

Ulrika Kergard arched her linen covered chest against the woman, athletic frame doing a remarkable job of pinning her against the wall as she devoured her lips. Nails dragged over her shoulder, sweeping down along the curve of her breast, thumbnail grazing over the hardening nub as she laughed into her mouth. She shifted back just enough to let the skirt fall, thigh returning to grind up between her legs, her whole body rocking roughly against the advisor. With a smirk on her lips, she broke the kiss, icy eyes raking over the woman's face with undisguised lust. Stepping back, she took her hands from her, a long moment simply spent inspecting every inch of her pale form pressed up against the dark wall. Hands crossed in front of her to take hold of the hem of her tunic, ripping it off over her head to leave her torso exposed. A linen band wrapped tightly over her breasts, keeping them compressed while scars littered her pale skin, most old and faded.

Mereavus' half-curls, by this point, had settled into a stubborn state of mussed, dark eyes watching the lookover and beginning of Ulrika's undressing with a slightly glazed drift. Her hips had given a definite roll when pressed against, leaving her with a distinct, unstatisfied throb within those black lace coverings. Speaking of which. One hand lowered to the sidewards laces, a single string pull letting one side loose and exposing half of the narrow trail of bright russet beneath her abdomen. One more string pull later, and the Advisor was entirely in her nude, bar heels, and a lick of firelight would indicate that the pink beneath the strip of bronze was already glistening. Dicarded piece of cloth went unnoticed, eyes still working over scarring and skin. A heel-wearing saunter across the carpet brought her back in proximity, hands drawing themselves to the King's trousers to begin working them open, russets watching her expression continually.

Ulrika Kergard's lips quirked as the woman bared herself, a certain delight in watching all the trappings of civilization fall away from one such as the Advisor. Pale eyes locked on the strip of russet as a hungry glint caught in her eyes, the firelight reflected in them. Deft fingers caught the tuck of her linen strip, unwinding it quickly as she found herself unable to tear her eyes from the sway of the woman's hips as she moved closer. The hands on her trousers drew a dark chuckle, the garment easily unlaced beneath those soft hands. The proximity of them had her breath sharpening as she threw the breast band to the side, small swells arching forward to press against the woman as one arm wrapped 'round her waist. The other dipped low, fingertips toying slowly down her abdomen as eyes locked on hers, Ulrika needing to devour her every reaction.

Mereavus' hands were suspiciously swift with those laces, making short work of them before wasting much less time than Ulrika in closing the distance between fingertips and loins. Whilst one hand vacated to rest at the small of her back, the other swept downwards, ring and forefinger opening the path for the middle as its fingertips moved right for that exterior nub. Pearly whites hit her lower lip at the sensation, glazed eyes lidding a second time. No civilisation here. Her own loins waited with pulsating expectancy, the keen ache there reaching the point of unbearable. She went in for her own initiation of a passionate, heady kiss, fingertip working in frustratingly light circles whilst her tongue sought to return the previous invasion past her own lips. Impatience was catching.

Ulrika Kergard's head arched back as she let a long deep sigh spill from her lungs, lashes falling shut. That touch had her arching hungrily into the soft..terribly soft hand, lips parted for aching breath. "Lady Varana..." she laughed, never one to be outdone, her fingers diving between the woman's legs to rub a hard calloused palm. Demanding fingers swept between the pulsing folds, soaking up the glistening wetness as they ground upward. The heel of her hand ground down, rocking into her as fingers coaxed her open, toying with her entrance as the Advisor captured her lips. Almost painful tingling swept over the King as she hissed against the woman's mouth, free hand grasping the back of her neck roughly as she devoured her lip. Without hesitation, her middle finger plunged hard into the woman's depths, a deep throaty groan rolling through the King at the intoxicating warmth.

Mereavus' lips reverberated with a sharp, shuddering moan when that digit penetrated her, hand spreading flat out against her back and the kiss igniting with a redoubled intensity that threatened to suck the life right out of the Nyrthlond King. Her own digit swiftly returned the favour, thumb landing to grind against that exterior nub whilst a very obviously skilled middle finger pressed directly to the rougher patch of inner flesh, and set to undulating in flexible waves over it. Any last semblance of heterosexuality fell away from her, lips refusing to unstick themselves from that heated northern exchange whilst her hips gave several presses towards the more southern layer of attention. So much for all the self-control and manners.

Ulrika Kergard felt control slipping with the fiercness of that kiss, shoulders pressing forward, body starting to loom despite shorter stature as she pushed her hard back against the wall again. Teeth caught her bottom lip, wrenching roughly before her lips forced her bright head back, mouth bruising in its ferocity. Each thrust of her finger slammed deep, a second joining suddenly as her hips jerked forward, her whole wiry scarred body thrown into the act. Lips tore from the other woman's, greedily seeking her neck again, heated kisses taking her down to the hollow of it where she bit down hard as fierce pleasure shuddered through her. Rough fingertips curled forward, dragging over that dangerous spot as Ulrika hissed into her, every inch of her pale flesh flushed and heated.

Mereavus became quite instantly breathless, having been unconsciously searching for that outright domination that doubled both as pleasure and punishment. Far from a glutton for it, but there was something in her psyche that said she ought to be rough-housed a little for what she felt she'd done. Thus, she'd bait as much of it out of her as she could. The Advisor's thigh rose to a remarkably high point, resting against Ulrika's ribs without concern for balance or pain. Leg bent, calf defined and her heel reflecting the firelight, her hand worked against the contents of the King's trousers whilst attempting an erotic, charged combination of breathing, moaning (including a gasp on that second digit's entry, the redhead incapable of handling much more than three) and kissing. Hips worked against that pressing hand in a continuous cycle, vocalisations beginning to become closer to one another.

Ulrika Kergard shifted her arm, pressing that lifted leg higher as her fingers buried themselves inside the Advisor. As if she would simply consume the woman, teeth tore at her slim shoulders, marring the skin but never quite tearing as the force of her fingers mounted. "So innocent." She growled into her as she gave a harsh twist of her fingers before suddenly ripping her hands from her and forcing the other woman's away...for the moment at least. She stepped back with a throaty dark laugh, shaggy blond locks tumbling as she tossed her head. Grinning around her fingers, her tongue snaked over them suggestively as she kicked herself free of her trousers. Brow lofted with a pointed glance toward the table. Without pause, she set the box on one of the chairs before marching over to the Advisor and grabbing her by the hair. Sharply, she yanked her toward the table. "I think you should bend over..now."

Mereavus no sooner seemed to be on her way to an orgasm, and then she found herself cast over a table! She couldn't decide whether to be frustrated or anticipatory, simply setting her forearms against the wood. So much for self-respecting ladies not bending over in Nharati, she clearly had before, by the way her spine knew to bend and expose. Equally so, by the turn of her head to level dark eyes over one shoulder in a particularly lascivious following of her eyes. Mahogany tousles fell over one side, framing angular features as they wound themselves into a sumptuous smirk. "Yes, your Majesty," she somewhat huskily uttered back, apparently playing at more submission than was true. As if it were just the King's whim and not her own.

Ulrika Kergard drank in the sight of her so exposed, white teeth flashing at her from behind as she raked her nails over the pulsating flesh between her legs hard enough to raise lovely red scratches. Her fingers continued their exploration as the other toyed with herself, dipping between folds covered in a light golden thatch to glide over that sensitive nub of her own. "Hmmmm....." The King mused to herself as she stepped back, seeing this as another work of art in her mind, the lucious woman displayed for her. Her tongue swept over her lips as she crouched behind the Advisor, rough fingers spreading her open wide so she could study the pulsing flesh within. Seconds ticked by as she absorbed the sight, catching her breath for a moment before her tongue snaked out again, sweeping over the edges of her folds only to catch skin in a sharp quick bite.

Mereavus wasn't particularly into pain, so the rake of nails surprised her some; though the after-sensation was certainly interesting. Equally so, the bite; she'd just begun releasing an excitable groan that transformed into a sharp inhale, attention turned back to whatever was in front of her. There was a certain level of arousal to being so spread for another's viewing pleasure, something about having a vulnerability right there to be sampled - and the Advisor wasn't prone to vulnerability. Full of it presently, however. She bit her lips, eyes closing to anticipate whatever might come next from this aggressive monarch. A smirk rose on her lips. Wouldn't her father be proud, he'd raised her as bed-fodder for Royalty. She was almost positive this hadn't been what he'd intended, however.

Ulrika Kergard suckled the edge of her lip into her mouth, tongue playing over it before she began tasting in more earnest. Hungrily, her tongue swept, glancing over that little bud before gliding up to her entrance, the tip teasing in. Both hands took hold of the porcelain thighs in front of her as the King buried her face between them. Even there, her mouth was forceful, tongue plunging hard into her as her head bucked, driving hard against the Advisor before it escaped, lashing over her lips before sucking hard on that delicious little nub. Mercilessly she tugged on it, not caring if she made the woman too sensitive, her tongue and lips dashing away suddenly to ravage the rest of her cunt, devouring her as if she had been starved.

Mereavus had a while to go yet before she was too sensitive, fortunately for herself. The Advisor had a good stretch of stamina in her. She extended one hand to the edge of the table, knuckles turning white with gripping. It didn't take long for her loins to catch up to where they had been, beginning to gather on the end of that tongue with very obvious moans to that effect. Her hips gave a single grind backwards when she felt herself on that precipice, and a moment later, Ulrika would be rewarded with clenching and a wettening that announced its arrival. It came with a single, drawn out moan of relief, wantonly expressed with her tongue balancing against the back of her teeth and a shudder rising up her spine. The alcohol and endorphins overwhelmed her a moment, and she was suddenly glad of the table amidst a dizzy spell.

Ulrika Kergard felt the moans down to the soles of her feet, letting herself get lost in the intoxicating taste as she felt the tension rise in the woman before her. A growl rumbled again when she felt her crest, tongue diving in deep to feel that rough clench as her fingers clutched the Advisor's thighs with a bruising grip. Holding with her through it, she laughed into her, tongue teasing over that drenched cunt, greedily tasting as much of that drowning wetness as she could. As she rose up, she dragged a hand over her mouth, face damp as she grinned cheekily. The other still played at the woman prone over the table, teasing at delving inside her as she watched curiously. "I think I want to show you just how lovely my little collector's piece is, hmm? Stay there..." One finger delved into her for an instant, brushing that rough patch before Ulrika retreated down the stairs to find her leather.

Mereavus watched the King retreat down to collect the rest of said piece of art, laughing lightly - apparently at what was said, but in actual fact, at herself. She'd anticipated the alcohol would prevent her coming apart. But she could feel it unravelling, at the edge of her psyche, and all she could do was laugh at herself. What was she doing? Was she so sad as to want the King to come back with that ivory monstrosity so that she could pretend? Have some twisted fantasy that somehow she and Sam were here, that the roughness was simply his hunger after time away? She was that sad. She pushed her hair out of her face, a distant voice telling her that really, now was the time to get up and go, if she didn't want to fuck up completely. But she was clinging to the possibility of that fantasy, so she waited. She would wait for the King to come back and give her what for, as perhaps it might ease the loneliness some. She could pretend.

Ulrika Kergard marched up the stairs with a dark leather harness dangling from her trembling hands, pausing to tousle Mere's hair and drag her nails lightly down her spine before she began settling the ivory piece into its holder. All focus seemed on that, a low groan sounding from her as she tipped the end inside her, fingers fumbling with the leather. Eyes drank in the woman before her once more, the King oblivious to the mental struggle and too intoxicated by mead and sex to even consider it. Her loins ached for the pounding she wanted to give the Advisor, Ulrika circling around behind her again to spread her open. Fingers stroked over her, using her wetness to slide over the ivory phallus before she guided it to her entrance, free hand grasping her hip.

Mereavus made a small sound of amusement at the nails down her spine, more out of appearances than anything else. As for the rest of it, she simply began slipping away. Not the King, not ivory, not here. Samuel, and flesh, and home. She closed her eyes and set her hips back to being more exposed, mentally preparing herself for what would likely be the oddest trip of her life. The touch of the tip to her body made her shudder, mainly in remembrance, and her breathing increased with renewed anticipation. She'd feel better after this. Just a little dose of the surreal. Her elbows and forearms balanced themselves, every ounce of her psyche going into building up another world around herself, and forgoing the reality. Prepared for pleasure.

Ulrika Kergard felt something odd tug at her mind, but not caring or not noticing, it was hard to say for she pressed on. Holding tight to to the Advisor, she eased her hips forward, slowly forcing the ivory into her depths, the pressure of it grinding down on the King herself. A shudder tore through her as her shoulders rolled, head lolling back. Good as it felt, at that moment, she always envied men. Still, eyes slitted, watching the ivory bury itself in that wet, waiting cunt. Strong calloused hands drank in the curve of her waist and glided up her back as Ulrika hilted her, pausing there to let her adjust as fingers kneaded over her flesh, slowly slipping 'round to grab hold of her breasts.

Mereavus' lips parted in a low, extended groan as she pushed her way in, fingertips pressing to the table. The fantasy remained - he always paused. Always. She smiled some, until those hands met with her chest. He never did that, did he? Would he? Shut up. Shut up and concentrate on the fucking fantasy. Spine arched further, encouraging hilting and pressing her bodice into waiting hands. Bracing herself, the mildly irritating sensation of her own arousal making its slow, tickling way down the back of one thigh reached her senses. Her hair tumbled over one shoulder, half curls entirely without any semblance of their usual perfectly groomed placement. The more feral activity seemed to transform it into a genuine mane, as though she might snarl at any moment.

Ulrika Kergard grinned at that groan, the sound trickling down her spine as she made a noise low in her throat. Blunt fingertips found her nipples, tugging and twisting at them as she pulled her hips back slowly, hilting once more almost experimentally even as she groaned. A new hole always needed a few test strokes before she let herself drop into it, the next one rougher. With a shuddering moan, she slid her hands down to the Advisor's stomach, pulling her back hard against her as hips pulled back, the King starting into a quick fierce rhythm as her eyes fell closed, fingers biting into that soft flesh. She sunk down over her, hips wrapping the lush ones before her as she crushed down against her back, face buried in her hair, breathing in the woman's scent.

Mereavus simply didn't manage. The delusion came crashing down around her the moment she felt fingertips bite into her skin. He just wouldn't do it this way. Her eyes very slowly opened, and where previously they'd seemed constantly neutral, often not agreeing with her expressions, after that small inner collapse they simply looked dead. She was suddenly very glad Ulrika had picked this position. Downwards seemed the key to the sharper moans, the delusion swallowed by the animalistic rise of lust and anger. Not fucking fair. None of it was fair. The rhythmic shifting behind her made her return to having closed eyes, and she was suddenly full of irrational rage for the Huntsman himself. Abandonment was the one thing she couldn't handle. Her groans soon made their effeminate, rapidly breathless way into moans, bodice flickering with the hasty drawing in and out of air.

Ulrika Kergard sought after those moans relentlessly, grinding downward at the end of each thrust, a faint sheen of sweat rising over her flesh as she rocked her body roughly over the Advisor. Anger..anger was something she recognized, and it vibrated through the woman like a plucked string, reverberating into Ulrika until another one of those bestial growls rose deep in her chest. Pulling her hips back until the ivory almost fell from her, she plunged back in with a vicious thrust, each one following just as fierce as her teeth found the woman's neck. Heated, ragged kisses quickly devolved into rough bites as her arms tightened around her, Ulrika's breath and body taking on telltale tension as her teeth threatened to break skin, pace quickly becoming brutal and demanding.

Mereavus' moans came thick and fast once those thrusts began intensifying, body unconsciously responding with smaller, more subtle movements that made the hilting easier, and harder. Her head bowed, hips moving, practically writhing, to attempt to handle a barrage of pleasure and pain. She attempted to muffle those rapidly sensitised cries into her arm, effectively failing, and it wasn't long before she began those expectant, airless sounds that sounded as though she'd just asked the tide to stop, and anticipated it doing as she'd demanded. Instead, her body shuddered, loins clenching around the ivory contraption and a breathy, startled, "Oh, God," emerging from between her lips. It was shortly followed by further sounds that seemed to struggle to cope with her senses being so overwhelmed, nails digging over the wood.

Ulrika Kergard moved with the rolling writhing body beneath her, unwilling to loosen the grip of her jaw as arms threatened to crush the woman against her. The needy response drew a hiss into her flesh as the King's hips smacked loudly against the woman's, the sound a symphony in her ears, inviting a sudden violent flurry of thrusts that ended in Ulrika throwing her head back in a deep gutteral yell as she clenched down on the ivory inside herself, each thrust rocking it hard inside her, arousal painting her thighs. Rough hands clutched hard at her ribs as she lost rhythm, bucking her hips spasmodically into the woman before her as ragged grunts tore through her, thrusts slowing..though not coming to a full halt.

Mereavus' forearms slid forwards once Ulrika's peak had so obviously been found, eyes remaining closed and her sounds fading into much quieter continuances of her clenching with that slower pace. Emotionally shellshocked, very drunk and staring at some sort of blank precipice, she suddenly became aware that the sooner she got back to her own quarters, the better. She couldn't have a breakdown publicly. Nor in Ulrika's presence. She attempted to regain some form of normal breathing despite the continued movement, some form of composure being necessary to ensure she got back to her own quarters, which fortunately were only down the hall, without being suspect. That was, if no one had heard what had gone on so aggressively in there.

Ulrika Kergard's romps other than with Cyrus were fairly rare, the King tending to make them last for a time until she'd completely exhausted her partner..and thus she intended this time. Her hips, however, slowed and finally stopped as she glanced down at the Advisor. Something was wrong...or at least the woman was very much done. Wordlessly, she pulled the ivory from her, one hand resting on the small of woman's back as Ulrika struggled to regain her breath, fingers releasing the leather so she could toss the whole contraption on one of the chairs. It was inevitable that the woman's pain would hit her eventually, the King knew, and with fingers still resting on her back, she bent to press a surprisingly gentle kiss to her hair. Sturdy arms helped her up, steadying her as long as she needed it as her eyes swept the woman's face, the blankness painfully obvious. "Do you want to stay or go to your own quarters?" She rasped out, that lovely bliss after her release lost.

Mereavus couldn't stay, and she knew she couldn't. She didn't know why, at that present moment in time, she just knew that she couldn't. Waking up excited to find a chest for a pillow, only to realise that the heartbeat was different, that it wasn't who she wanted it to be. She lifted a hand to push lingering curls out of her face, eyes searching out each item of her clothing. Where were her shoes? She looked down. Ah. There they were. "I need to go back, I think," she answered, remarkably coherent to say what nuclear mess lay behind those lifeless russet expressors. Or non-expressors, in this case. "Danele and Emersyn will come looking for me and think I've done something stupid if I'm not there." Hand rose to touch to Ulrika's cheek lightly, and she placed a gentle kiss on her lower lip before turning to find her things and begin redressing.

Ulrika Kergard nodded gently, worry lingering in her pale eyes. As rough as the King might seem at times, there was a sort of compassion to her, and she knew pain when she saw it. She knew how it felt to be on the other side of blank eyes. With a low sigh, she returned the kiss, her hand clasping that soft delicate one in her own that seemed ridiculously overworked at the moment. Wordlessly, she helped the woman dress, each touch gentle and perhaps sometimes fumbling but earnest in her assistance. Once she was clothed, Ulrika's arms wrapped around her for a brief moment as she touched her lips to her cheek, fingers trying to settle the mussed hair. "I'm sorry, Mereavus," She murmured, tone seeming to allude to the mess surrounding the woman right now rather than Ulrika's own behavior. "I'll see you back to your room. Please."