Lezard wondered what she was thinking, surprised with how calmly she had reacted to being in an enclosed space with him. Nor had she shown any surprise or startled emotion at feeling the room move, neither shying away, nor being frightened by the loud noises the gears made. It was a completely different reaction from Mystina’s, one that led Lezard to believe Lenneth had been in an elevator before.
It made him wonder, the necromancer surmising that perhaps the Gods themselves had given the ancients the knowledge to make such devices. A wistful sigh escaped him as he regretted his inability to question her on the matter, reasoning to himself that all too soon he would be able to converse with her on his own. He lived for the day, looking forward to no longer needing Mystina’s services in this matter.
He had to chuckle as he thought back to the look of outrage on the blonde’s face when he had slammed the door shut. She really was slow witted, and far too easy to trick. Lenneth turned to peer at him curiously, brow furrowed as she listened to him laugh. “Lezard…..what?” She asked, Lezard finding her heavily accented words an endearing trait.
“It’s nothing.” He shook his head, wondering if she knew enough words to understand should he try to explain. “We’re almost there.”
“Mystina…” Lenneth sighed, clicking her tongue against her teeth as she tsked at him. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Perhaps.” Lezard shrugged, not bothering to look apologetic. “But she was being annoying.” She merely looked at him, blue eyes unreadable as she listened to him speak. He didn’t mind, he liked being the center of her attention, enjoying it when she looked at him. He smiled at her, feeling the elevator start to slow. She glanced upwards, also sensing the change in speed. “Almost there.” He told her, hearing the gears make a screeching sound as they ground to a halt.
The elevator shook, Lenneth stepping off balance with a gasp. Lezard was quick to catch her, arms encircling round her waist, keeping her from slamming into the wall. He was pleased to see her blush, the girl placing her hands on his chest, pushing out of his embrace. He let her, albeit reluctantly, finding he already missed the feel of her in his arms.
She stepped back, a question in her eyes. “Lezard, where?”
“Hmm, how I love hearing you say my name.” He commented, reaching for the gate of the elevator. He pushed it to the side, and led her out of the tiny room, seeing her look around curiously.
“Where?” She repeated, not at all familiar with his tower aside from her bedroom, and that one time trip to the kitchen.
“We’re on the topmost floor of my tower.” Lezard explained, talking more so that the tone of his voice would soothe her. He knew that Lenneth only understood a handful of his words, though at times she surprised him with just how much she really knew. “Don’t worry, we’re still in my home.”
“Ah…” She nodded, recognizing the word even if she did not know the corridor he led her down. He kept turning his face to watch her reaction, knowing she could smell the breeze that was blowing in the corridor. It was stronger here, sifting in through a space much larger than the window in her room. She shivered, and reached for her shawl, pulling it tighter around her shoulders as she followed him.
“Dark…” She commented, squinting her eyes in the shadowy hall. Only a few torches were lit, casting pools of light in an otherwise darkened area. Lezard nodded, stepping carefully across the stone floor, making sure to keep her from tripping over the hem of her dress as he guided her towards a set of marble steps. Upwards he led her, and the breeze was stronger here, being enough to blow back her hair from her body.
At the very top of the stairs, a rectangular shape could be seen, moonlight shining down into the hole. A smattering of stars could also be glimpsed, framed in a night sky of the deepest blue. Lenneth made a sound of excitement, her steps becoming more hurried as she tried to move past him and out onto the roof. Lezard laughed, and caught her around the waist, hearing her let out a protest as he stopped her from running.
“Patience my dear, patience!” Lezard said, all but carrying her up the final steps. He set her down carefully on the tiles of the roof, holding her close to him. She gripped hold of his arms, her blue eyes widening in appreciation as she gazed up at the night sky. Suddenly she sighed, and closed her eyes, for an instant Lezard fearing she was about to break into tears.
When she opened them, a rush of words poured out of her, a mix of Norse and Itlandic that left Lezard completely confused. He merely smiled and shook his head, not fighting her when she moved to step free of his embrace. He paced behind her, a mere shadow of a presence as she explored the rooftop. She walked all the way to the edge, unfazed by heights, her toes almost hovering in mid air as she peered at the long drop to the ground.
For one long minute she just stood there, arms crossed over her chest, hair swaying in the breeze as she peered down at the woods that surrounded his home. She murmured something inaudible, and with a sad shake of her head backed away from the ledge. She walked towards the stone turret, leaning her head back to view the windmill that turned on it’s side, spinning faster and faster from the chill wind that blew this night. She moved around the turret, and he heard her let out a loud exclamation of surprise.
Lezard smiled, knowing she had found the flowers, and more importantly the table Bellion had set up with their meal. Candles were placed in the center, casting a soft glow of light on their surroundings, the turret doing much to shield them from the wind. Beautiful bushes surrounded the area, stark white flowers that seemed to glow, grew on the vine, moon drops, a pretty fragrant flower that only bloomed at night.
He came up behind her, pressing against her back as she stood before one such bush. He couldn’t help himself, leaning into her to inhale her sweet scent, an odd mix of vanilla and jasmine. As with everything about her, he found her scent to be intoxicating, even as he hid his actions by plucking a moon drop off the bush. She was turning, hair brushing against his face, wary eyes looking at him.
“For you…” He smiled, and pressed the flower into her hair, seeing her blush prettily. He liked making her react to him, enjoyed seeing her cheeks pinken with the flush of embarrassment. But more than that, he cherished touching her, using any and all excuses to lay his hands on her. “Lenneth sit…” Lezard said, hand on her elbow, urging her towards one of the chairs. She moved easily enough, sitting down, still watching him.
Lezard licked his lips, suddenly feeling nervous, reaching up with his hand to run it through his slicked back bangs. The oil held them in place, keeping the strands from falling messily over his eyes as he nerved himself for what he wanted to do. “Lenneth…” He reached into his pocket, pulling out something. He saw her cock her head to one side, eyeing what he held.
Lezard was surprised to see his hand was shaking slightly, hearing the rustle of paper as he unfolded the parchment. “Ahem.” He cleared his throat, and began speaking to her, eyes darting back and forth from the page to her face, watching her eyes widen in surprise as he read off broken Itlandic to her. He had spent a good portion of the day going through his books, browsing through dictionaries of ancient languages, working in secret to compose and transcribe a poem to her in the language she understood.
He didn’t expect that it was very good, Lezard being modest when it came to his writing. In fact he was sure it was horrible, and made a million times worse by the butcher job he was doing of the Itlandic language. But Lenneth stared at him, mouth slightly open as she listened, a hand raised to her bosom, and she didn’t laugh. In fact he could have sworn she blushed harder, at times modestly lowering her eyes in response to his impassioned looks, and ardent words.
Of course he made mention of her beauty, but it was more than just a shallow poem dedicated to telling her she was lovely. He spoke of his deep abiding love for her, of how she made him feel. Of how he cherished and adored her, and wanted to make her his. He spoke of how he would diligently work towards making her happy with him, how he would devote his life to being her slave. He put his heart on his sleeve, barring his soul to her, and she did not laugh. Lenneth just looked at him, a hint of wetness to her eyes as she listened to him speak for several more minutes, Lezard having to turn the paper over to finish his poem.
For his big finish, he dropped down to his knees, no longer needing to look at the page as he held out his right hand to her. “Itsp ben vales!” He announced, telling her he loved her in Itlandic. She sniffled, and dabbed at her eyes, tears threatening to fall.
“Lezard….beautiful…” She breathed out, touching his hand with hers. He sighed in relief, and lifted her hand to his lips, ardently kissing the back of it. “Thank you.” She added, seemingly moved by his words.
“My pleasure.” Lezard answered a tad gruffly, feeling slightly embarrassed by having poured out his heart to her. He let go of her hand, fingers wanting to linger on her skin as she pulled it back to her. When he went to stand, she held out her hand, pointing at the paper he held. “You want this?” He held up the parchment, his tone questioning as he looked at her.
Lenneth nodded, still pointing at the paper, eyes hopeful. Bemused he handed it to her, and watched as she carefully folded in half, placing it in the back pocket of her skirt. It appeared she wanted to save it, and Lezard could not begrudge her the memento.
With a smile, feeling his spirits lifted, his nerves chased away, Lezard went to join Lenneth at the table. He lifted up the cover, revealing a duck roasted to golden perfection, as well as several smaller plates of steamed vegetables and salads. He carefully sliced into the meat, giving each of them generous portions, and for a second he tensed up when her finger tips touched the edges of the plate. But Lenneth behaved, not tossing the food in his direction, actually smiling at him as she reached for a fork.
He even poured her wine, being sure to keep her glass full at all times, Lezard drinking heavily of his own goblet. In fact, he drank perhaps too much, his judgment starting to grow cloudy as they sat and ate, silent for the most part.
“Lenneth…” He said, pushing his plate away from her. “Do you know how to dance?”
“Da—ance?” She repeated the unfamiliar word, licking her lips slowly as she savored the taste of the sauce.
“Yes dance.” His fingers drummed a beat on the table, Lezard pondering how to get his meaning across to her. He suddenly stood, his chair toppling backwards as he swayed unsteadily on his feet. “Dance!” He mimed holding a woman in his arms, swaying to music only he could hear. Her eyes lit up in understanding, words babbling forth as she told him something, giggling at his actions.
“Come.” Lezard held out his hand to her, gesturing for her to rise. “Dance with me.”
She reached out, expression trusting as her fingertips grazed the palm of his hand. He quickly closed his fingers around her hand, and pulled her to her feet, seeing her take an unsteady step towards him. He slid his free hand around her waist, pressing her tight against him, and began backing away from the table. She looked up at him, bemused as he started to hum loudly, performing a beat for them to move too.
He guided her around the table, still humming, occasionally twirling her, even dipping her at one point. His mind slowly reminded him that he had magic on his side, and he let go of her hand to gesture in the air, muttering under his breath. The taste of magic was heavy in the air, Lenneth wrinkling her noise as she smelled the distinct burnt smell of spent magic. She exclaimed in surprise as instruments appeared, floating in mid air, invisible hands playing out the tune Lezard had been humming.
“Much better.” He smiled at her, taking hold of her hand once more. She looked impressed, and she let him lead her in a dance, actually laughing as he spun her around. He kept them by the turret, not yet drunk enough to risk moving near the ledge of the tower’s roof, dancing her in circles around the moon drop bushes. A beautiful setting, one he knew Lenneth appreciated.
The song ended, and the instruments moved on to another one, a subdued, slow dance that caused Lezard to press even closer to Lenneth, holding onto her hips as he swayed in time to the beat. Perhaps she too was feeling the effects of the wine, for she looked at him, eyes shining bright and blue as she stared into his gaze. She didn’t shy away when he bent down to press his lips against her cheek, only the tell tale blush coloring her skin in reaction to what he did.
Lezard pulled back to look at Lenneth, satisfaction in his eyes, still moving them in time to the music. He very much wanted to kiss her on the lips, and he almost dove in for a claiming of her lips. But something held him back, his inner conscience whispering to him that it would not be a good idea. He didn’t want to ruin what little progress he had made with her this night, and so he contented himself with holding her, whispering once more, “Itsp ben vales” to her. Lenneth didn’t say it back, but she didn’t scream, or shake her head no, staying in the circle of his arms, seeming content to move with him.
Asgardian Pleasures 
Awwww, so Lezard is taking the path of the hopeless romantic it seems…..Lenneth seems to be softening but she still hasn’t said she loves him yet. Looks like Lezard still has a ways to go.