Dessert in the hammock.

Rho

This is a brief look into Emelle and Carson. I have been asked to warn anyone who reads this log that it is of the highly cute variety and may be too much for some. Enjoy!

Emelle's thoughts to Carson.

Carson's thoughts to Emelle.

Emelle: 

She is a powerful Yeleni. Blazing violet eyes with black sclera and starry pupils are the centerpiece of her face, framed by long lashes. The small nose and thin, pinkish lips that make up the rest of her countenance are finely sculpted but somewhat unremarkable, lending her little natural expression. Thick, chestnut-colored hair falls nearly to her ankles in a wavy mass interspersed with braids and dreadlocks, their lengths heavily laden with various objects such as feathers, flowers, beads, charms, and keys, among other things. Protruding prominently from her head is a pair of large, elfin ears, each ending in a pointed tip that curls back at the apex. Sun-darkened skin describes her upper body, but her legs are ungulate in nature, covered in brown fur and terminating in cloven hooves. Just a shade above an average height, she possesses a willowy frame lined with an adequate amount of muscle.

(shouldered, a lute neck sticking out) : a tribal pack of honey-colored leather

(draped loosely over the body) : an elegant kimono of amethyst silk brocade

Carson: 

He is a wise Azudim with the athleticism and muscle structure of a man likely much younger than he actually is. The man looks to be about six and a half feet tall, give or take, with a mane of shaggy brown hair that falls to just past the base of his neck, locks slightly curly as they end. He boasts a set of bright blue, slightly round eyes set above a hawkish, imperious nose and somewhat pale lips. The Azudim's skin near his chest is a shade closer to gray than black, though it darkens as it moves away from there to a point where the tips of his fingers are simply black. A set of wings flow from behind him in a white and black overlapping pattern, though no one feather claims both colors as its own. There is a noticeable scar on his chest that seems to be the place where the skin is the lightest, no real distinct shape given by its bounds.

(somewhat scuffed) : a pair of black leather dress shoes

(worn around right wrist) : a set of lapis lazuli prayer beads

(worn on the legs) : tailored charcoal-gray pants

(buttoned halfway up) : a dress shirt of pale green silk

(worn on the left ring finger) : an obsidian ring of barbed thorns

(around the waist) : a simple gray leather belt

[spoiler]

Inside an oaken residence.

A slightly oblong doorway heralds the entry room of this small residence, a rounded chamber hollowed out from the interior of the Great Oak's system. Iridescent patches of moss are present, tucked away into corners, to provide a slight luminescence to the chamber. Round windows have been carved out of the bark, providing a view of the shelf-stair of fungi just outside the exit. The earthy scent of loam prevails, and the space is cozy and tidily kept. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. Lying flat on the ground is a key-shaped sigil. A wooden horse balances here on the curved base of a rocking chair, ready to rock. A rustic pinewood table is here, a delicious snack of salted, tangy minnows and a decadent marzipan cake filled with cream atop it. 3 holed tree trunk seats have been placed at it. The bale of a quilted hammock curls here around two sturdy logs, awaiting use. Emelle, the Eyes is here, lying on a cushy quilted hammock.

"I brought you something," Carson announces as he enters the abode.

 

Emelle's eyes are already on you from where she lies in the hammock, her hands layered over her stomach. "Oh?" She lifts her head, straining to see.

Carson holds a sweet apple pie in his hands, both of them now after having shifted it about to manipulate the key and the door. "Dessert. Unless you're not hungry, I can store it somewhere," he says, glancing around in search of a place he might do just that.

It seems Emelle has already brought some food home, evidenced by a small collection of plates on the table; some are empty, others not. Despite it, she props herself up on her elbows and eyes you with interest. "What is it?" she wonders, a light smile on her face.

"Pie!" Carson says with a quick swivel of the object, as if the motion would send whiffs of its sweet apple scent over towards Emelle. He approaches after a few moments, kneeling before Emelle just next to the cushy quilted hammock.

"Mm," Emelle intones, the hammock swinging as she leans over to press a kiss to your forehead. "Yes, please. I think there are forks...over there." She gestures vaguely in the direction of the table and lies back in the hammock, which sways gently back and forth.

The sweet apple pie is sat down and Carson is off to grab two of the named objects, held between index and middle finger as he finds his way back over to Emelle. "Room for me, or am I feeding you from the floor, momma?"

Emelle laughs, which does nothing to still the movement of the hammock, and awkwardly attempts to shift over enough that you might lie down next to her. "Come here," she requests, reaching toward you. Then, teasingly, "You can feed me if you like."

"Don't joke, I'm likely to do it," Carson tells Emelle, settling himself in the hammock with the sweet apple pie held up a bit so as to not have it fall or, even worse, be ruined with his fingers digging into the thing. "Right, here we are," he says under his breath, passing Emelle a fork and setting the sweet apple pie down on his stomach, once he's settled in comfortably.

Leaning against you, Emelle accepts the fork in her outside hand and reaches over herself in an attempt to unceremoniously dig out a bite of pie. In an impressive feat of balance, she manages not to upend the bite and delivers it into her own mouth. "Mm," she utters, smiling at you even as she chews and swallows.

"Gosh, that's so sexy," Carson teases Emelle, having watched Emelle's entire process with a vaguely amused expression. "Do I get any of this, or is this all for you and the girl?" He can't help but smile now, however tainted with amusement it may be.

"Girl?" Emelle repeats once she has swallowed, giving you a wry look (probably in response to your teasing and not the remark about the baby). She lies back against the hammock, the shift of weight sending it into a gentle sway, and gestures at the pie with her fork.

"Girl, I think," Carson nods in agreement. It is his turn to take a stab at the pie, with much less intent on getting a regular sized-bite and going for a whole apple slice instead, which he eats in a few bites. "For now, at least."

Emelle nods her head against the pillow in apparent agreement. Her inside hand rests over her stomach -- is that a bump, or is she indulging in too much food? -- and she twirls her fork idly in her outside hand, seeming distracted as she watches you.

"I don't mind if you watch me eat, just means more pie for me," Carson says happily, taking a forkful of mostly crust and a little bit of filling and devouring it in one clean swipe of the fork against his upper lip. "Wash'on yer'mind, 'melle?" he asks, the crust proving a worthy adversary for his ability to speak.

This logic seems to get through to Emelle, and she lifts herself up enough to reach over and claim another bite of pie for herself, a few crumbs showering from her fork between the pie tin and her mouth. She fixes you with that violet gaze as she chews and swallows, then answers, "girl."

 "Hm," Carson's fork this time taps against the tin, making little ting-ting-ting noises every few moments. "If you were given the choice to decide one thing about it, what would you choose?" the man fixes Emelle with a stare, curious and slightly tilted into the cushy quilted hammock.

 

Emelle returns your look steadily, her lips pursing as she thinks. A long moment passes as she seems to entertain an inward struggle over an answer before she finally decides, "Safety." Tilting her head, she then asks, "You?"

 "Common sense," is Carson's answer, clearly expecting the return of the question. "Though, maybe I'd change that if I gave it more thought." He offers the pie to Emelle as he adds, "One last bite? Wouldn't want to get you plumped up. Yet. I do like women with a little extra at times though.." he nudges Emelle with his elbow, smiling broadly once more.

Nodding, Emelle turns in toward you and lifts herself up on an elbow to better get at the pie. She scrapes her fork against the bottom of the tin to collect a combination of apple and crumbled crust and delivers it to her mouth, chewing and swallowing before she smiles wryly at you and asks, "What times are those?"

 "Just the times I'm in the mood for a real thick..steak," Carson replies to Emelle, just as wryly smiling in return. He allows the tin to drop to the floor next to the hammock, his fork nestled in amongst the remainder of the food. "Maybe a few more months and you'll be just right for such a want," he murmurs to Emelle, finding a spot that is comfortably against Emelle that allows his outer arm to touch over Emelle's stomach.

After quickly slipping her fork into the tin before it is out of reach, Emelle curls an arm around your head and slips her hand into your hair before leaning in to kiss you warmly. "Mm," she murmurs, her lips smiling against yours. Her eyes never close completely, a lick of wildness in her gaze as she watches you half-lidded.

"As long as I'm not going to..harm anything.." Carson's hand gives a circle of a touch over the stomach, indicating that spot. "I should find someone who's had kids who would know about such things." He gives a brief shrug of his outside shoulder, allowing the notion to slip form the forefront of his attention.

"Cannot imagine it could," Emelle muses, shrugging likewise. "But I do not know." She lies back down next to you, her fingers playing in your hair. There is a slight protrusion to her stomach now, mostly masked by the waist of her kimono, though it might be obvious to a familiar touch. "Do not know who to ask, either."

"Well, if that's the case.." Carson's hand slips off to the side, absently playing with one of the ties to Emelle's kimono. He smiles at Emelle, clearly happy about something, and says quietly, "You will be a good mother. I can already tell - unless it is hooven, then you will not hear the end of my jokes."

A low chuckles rises in Emelle's throat, and she leans her head against your shoulder. "I will be a bad mother if it is hooven?" she returns, her words laced with amusement. Her hand drifts from your head and rests briefly on your shoulder before she drapes her arm across your chest.

She thinks you will be a good father, too.

"No, you will still be a good mother. It just will be marred by my jokes. Our child would not teeter-totter. He would clipper-clopper." Carson gives Emelle a highly questionable look, as if he were trying to play innocent of his jab.

That would make one out of..a few.

"Ngh." Emelle's eyes flash as she rolls them. "Poor child. Maybe you will not make such a good father after all," she teases, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

 "Whaaaaat?" Carson can't help but grin before he turns his head to the side, enough to look up to the ceiling. A second passes, long and heavy, before he asks, "You really think I will?"

A blessing and a curse of her sight. She always manages to see the best in people.

Emelle gives you a steady look, even with your gaze averted. "You are still here," she observes, her hand leaving you long enough to gesture vaguely at the apartment.

"Aye. And I'm not going anywhere." Carson's statement is punctuated with a kiss, something that is given to Emelle after he'd turned his head back and leant in enough to afford the brief show of tender affection.

But not just that. Your enthusiasm is contagious, your excitement clear. She can tell this is something you truly want.

He's happy that she knows this. He hopes he can stay this way, too.

"Good," Emelle murmurs, her eyes lidding as she nestles in closer to you. She looses a long exhale through her nose and strokes your side with her fingertips.

As does she.[/spoiler]

Meyvitch

...yeah. My comment stands, man whore. But it'll be funny to see Carson as a daddy. Nice job Emelle.

Moirean

Aww that was really sweet. Very enjoyable, touching read. Thanks for sharing - it makes me wanna play a forestal again. Duiran has some really stellar (pardon the pun) slice of life RP. I don't know much about the two characters, but the log intrigues me and I can tell they have a deep love, while each having their own histories and issues at the edges.