The water is about the heat of a hot tub- about 40C.

Sayeed watches her undress with obvious- if restrained- interest.  He starts to disrobe behind her, and she notices his eyes locking on to the scar for a few moments before mentally filing it away.  "I wouldn't call it irrelevant.  Only the dead think that sort of thing is irrelevant.  Personal connections, big or small, are part of what makes us alive."  He takes a seat next to her, naked, red shoulder touching her scarred one.  "A lack of boundaries can sometimes be just as confining as having too many, I've noticed."
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:10, Wed 20 Nov 2019.

"Ah, that's also it. The dead do care if it was to benefit their cause," she flicks a glance at him when he sits down, blushes further and turns to her wine glass. "I agree...and that's why talking with him is also on my long list of things to be done when not working... "

She flicks an instinctive glance towards her cellphone, and sips the wine, still leaving some of it to linger as if wanting to savour the rest of it. Then she jokishly bumps his shoulder with hers, perhaps a bit encouragingly, before resting the glass well aside and sliding into the pool. The warmth of the pool makes her release a sigh and a shudder.

There seems to be something she would want to ask, and it lingers on her lips for a while, but eventually she just gives her lower lip a bite and chuckles, leaning her back against the side of the pool.

"So...going to go challenge him to a duel now for possibly offending my honor?" she blurts.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:56, Thu 21 Nov 2019.

He slips in soon after her, barely needing the shoulder bump to follow her.  The water temp goes up a degree the moment he hits it.

"Is your honor offended?"  He asks, "Then I might consider it, though I think duels are a waste of time and life.  Contests, on the other hand... those I think can be a bit more fair."  He swims closer to her, "Perhaps a contest for your affections might be in order." 

"No, my honor...or whats left of it, is not sullied or offended to be frank. If that was to happen, I probably would've taken care of it as it is. It was just a silly question just escaped me," Lyla chuckles and shakes her head, sinking a bit deeper in the water.

She spreads her arms beside her, resting them on the edge of the pool.

"A bit more fair? That sort of contest is far from fair, given I have to work as a judge... How am I to decide without a proper point system? Or without rules at all for the matter? Or without the other contestant being informed on this before hand? There has been no training period whatsoever to begin with," then she realizes what she is rambling about, immediately pursing her lips while turning reddish even further.

"Ahem...I think...I'd be quite glad to offer you...a chance to demonstrate what such a competition might include... and then I can perhaps tackle the rest or decide how necessary they really are..." She continues, giving her lower lip a bite.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 04:29, Tue 26 Nov 2019.

He advances on her through the pool, like a fire creeping through the underbrush, each twig and leaf snapping to flame as it approaches.  The water heats to the point where the water visibly steams.  He stops in front of her, taking her by wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her towards him, then begins whispering in her ear.

"When I hold me love close
(and her arms steal around me),
I'm like a man translated to Punt
or like someone out in the reedflats
When the whole world suddenly bursts into flower.
In this dreamland of South Sea fragrances,
My love, you are essence of roses."

Despite the water warming at an alarming rate, Lyla's skin is littered with goose bumps when he pulls her near. She runs her fingers up his arms, musing to herself when listening his whisper. Eventually she wraps her arms around his neck, and when he stops she gives his earlobe a small nibble.

"I see. Going straight for the kill. hm.. What time and place?"Lyla grins.

"What time but now, what place but the present?"  He asks, his body responding deliciously to the nibble of his ear, "But if my quarters give me too much of a homefield advantage, there is always the Marnier.  But I think that's waiting a bit too long, don't you?"

He presses her against the edge of the pool, "You've never been one to sit back and wait, after all."

"I was more aiming in the lines of where and when is that poem from...But... that can wait later.." Its like some of her words where getting lost on their way out as her focus was veering in an utterly different direction.

Then out of the blue as if her whole blush business was just a facade, she gives a sure nod accompanied by a grin.  She sinks him into a deep kiss, while tugging him as close as possible.

"Egypt, the New Kingdom," He murmurs just before the kiss before moving from a history lesson to something much, much more pleasurable.

There's little passage of time that they can tell; some things are timeless.  The years haven't dampened Sayeed's ardor for her, nor his amorous arts.  In some ways it's like he's picked up where they left off years and years ago, as if there never was a gap.  She's sure he's had lovers since then- they'd even talked about it before- but if not for that, she would never be able to tell he hadn't loved a soul since the fall of Earth.

The temperature's climbed to sauna-like degrees and they're both exhausted, sore, and happy.  Sayeed has cracked open another bottle of wine, this one perhaps not as nice but still tasty, and they lounge on the floor by the pool.

"So would you still like to go clothes shopping?" He says, arm around her shoulder, "Reality has to catch up with us sometime, unfortunately."

Finally even Lyla manages to let go most of her worries and woes that she has been dragging around with herself. Curling up next to him, she radiates much like an ember that had been rekindled. Its her way of showing her Solar side's power, one that she usually hid away.

She sighs, deeply, but without remorse and reaches to stroke his cheek.

"Yes, the reality that's always looming and expecting things. Yes, I do still need something to wear, and I have yet to inquire you about the Ball, and MA, and such," Lyla smirks, resting her cheek against him."...I have to say it was a nice moment there. Washed some of my worries away."

"Or rather burned it away,"  He says with a corny wink and smirk, "Well, I'm here and I'm listening.  Feel free to ask me whatever you need to ask- and I'll figure it out to the best of my ability.  The Fire Court can be a little bit... much... for outsiders, but that's because we so rarely invite them.  Most outsiders who show up aren't exactly welcome to do so."

"The whole premise of a ball is much in itself, let alone being surrounded by the Fire Court," she sighs a bit. "I worry about it less, cause I know I'm not alone there. That being said: the case with MA, hows it been going? What happened after I left to run after Hales? Is there anything I could help with before hand?"

"Well, he's a little shit, is what he is.  Unfortunately there are members of the Fire Court who already look down on him, and to make matters worse, they have ideas about etiquette that'd make the old Victorians beg for mercy.  So some of it is cultural.  He told Swan Dragon that he thought slavery was abolished a long time ago, for instance."

He takes a long sigh.

"Since he's due to be put on trial- as opposed to an absolute execution- by the Fire Court law he's on retainer to Swan Dragon, a typical servant sort of relationship.  It sounds barbaric, and maybe it is, but Swan Dragon is his judge.  What's supposed to happen is he's supposed to be the good servant, let the Judge get to know him, and then use that to his advantage.  There's some members of the Flame Court who want him dead."

"Yeeah, I wholeheartedly agree on the little shit part, but apparently I have too much of a soft heart to have endeavoured on this sort of quest. Or maybe its the thought of him being the little shit on my side...nevertheless. I'm surprised he is still alive, and I'm dreading for the trial," she ruffles her wet hair. "...And that also partially answered my thoughts on why I wasn't informed of the ball earlier. If someone wants him dead, and knows I'm part of it, its no wonder they want to paint a bad picture of me as well."

What a mess it all was. Some how the thought of ANY outside mission after the ball felt relieving...at least she could escape then away if things went extremely south.

"I feel bad for Swan Dragon, though. That he has to tolerate MA. But at least he gets his say in things, and not like it was in Pyongyang. But I can only imagine how much of a nuisance this all is on his plate that is probably already quite full..."

"I couldn't tell you why you weren't informed earlier.  Who did tell you?" He asks, "Nobody really has a bad opinion of you, though?  You've still got days to prepare, and I've not heard anything about it from the grapevine.  I mean, sure, there are some people who are upset that you've even put us in this position but for the most part the Flame Court believes wholeheartedly in supporting our Exalts."

He thinks for a moment.

"I mean, yes, I feel bad for Swan Dragon too, but he certainly insisted we follow all the rules- including the ones that could've let him kill your little friend outright.  I'm not sure what's on his plate but he's playing cards very close to his chest."

"The letter was stapled to my door. So maybe this is all some part of Swan Dragon's plan," Lyla nods, and reaches for her glass in order to take a sip. "I do hope MA actually manages to plead his case. Killing him will result in more bad blood in all sides. That type of thing would suit the Void though. Us fighting with each other even more."

She huddles a bit closer to him.

"Yeah, shall we go shopping now or later? I don't want to steal you from your duties for too long. I did rest at Sanctuary, but it's always a restless sort of sleep that leaves you exhausted no matter what."

"If he's casting himself as a latter-day Prometheus then he's not going to go over well with them.  Stealing fire is probably the worst metaphor he can use.  But I fully agree with you, and I suspect Swan Dragon does as well.  Managing an aging and stodgy court is tough work."

Sayeed wraps a muscular arm around her to squeeze her into his side.

"My duties, right now, are 100% dedicated to whatever you need from me.  Consider me your second from here on out.  This is of paramount concern not only to myself but to my constituency.  The fact that I happen to be mad for you is a very happy accident.  So if you'd prefer to rest, I'd very happily lend you my pillow."

"My second? Great, I do have a pile of paperwork waiting to be done," she jests lightheartedly in comparison to their previous subject. "Oh, this is you being mad at me? I'm lucky its like this. I'd gladly borrow your pillow for a few hours before heading out again. Who knows when's the next time I'll be able to rest properly. I also think I owe it to you if you are to appear anywhere with me in public, that I don't look like a wreck."

"Mad FOR you, not mad AT you,"  He corrects her quickly enough, though with a big grin.  "Let me prep the bed for you- maybe set up a fan.  I don't think you want to sleep the way I do." He slowly extricates himself from her, "I promise I'll be right back, alright?"  How convenient he doesn't say anything about the paperwork!

Sayeed is about two steps to his bedroom in the back when the doorbell rings; it sounds like three bells shaking urgently.  He groans "Seriously?"  and wraps a towel around his waist, "Hold on, I may have to take this."

"I know you, but still I have to give you the credit, that I'm not always sure how to read you. So you could as well be mad at me and I'd be none the wiser, she sticks her tongue out at him. "Its alright. I promise not to run away."

She looks after him and restrains herself from going to take a look at her phone. But once the doorbell rings, she almost instinctively pounces up and grabs a towel herself. Should someone barge in, at least she was wearing something.

"By all means," she replies to Sayeed, curiously peering towards the door.

He heads to the door, opening it up a crack.  "Oh, Atas!- what're you doing here-"

The elemental who barges right in afterwards is an athletic woman about eight feet tall, skin the color of burnished gold, long hair tied up bright red, and electric blue lips.  Her only visible weapons are a pair of brass knuckles hanging from a rope-belt that ties together her plain white tunic and baggy pants.  Sayeed, even as big as he is, couldn't hope to block her entrance any more than a man could stop a charging bull.

"I needed to talk to you-"  She stops as she sees Lyla wrapped in towel, then frowns slightly, putting big hands on her hips.  "Ah.  You have company.  You should have said."

"You didn't give me the chance, Atas.  Atas, meet Lyla Raines; Lyla, meet Atas, a djinn from Iran, an old friend of mine and head of security for this block.  She doesn't grant wishes."

"Usually don't, anyway."  She looks Lyla up and down, "What a coincidence, though.  I was coming here to ask about you."

Mostly glad that she had instinctually pounced for the towel, she manages to contain her expression neutral as she gives a nod in return to Atas, when being introduced.

"Nice to meet you, even though the moment came a bit abruptly. Has something happened? Or is it even something I can personally help with?" Preparing for the worst she begins to pick her clothing up, should the need arise to leave somewhere.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:29, Mon 27 Jan 2020.

"I mostly want to know who had the absolute balls to bring in this Antony kid,"  She says, "Unfortunately, I'm the one the little fuck stole things from in the first place.  You have any idea how embarrassing that is?" She puts her fists on her wide hips, "I mean don't get me wrong.  I can respect the moxie.  I'd be willing to forgive and forget, but getting this all dredged up again is NOT doing wonders for my self control."

Ah, so it was this sort of case. Lyla takes the clothes she has gathered and folds them on a neat pile on the table, before taking a seat.

"Yeah, that little shit is here and being dealt with because of me," she sighs."Apologies on my behalf for having to deal with this and especially him again. I did not exactly choose to pull this case up, but I owed him as much and it was inevitable after we bumped in to Sayeed... Actually I think I owe a thanks to you, since the ritual he stole saved my life. Unfortunately I can't tell you about the incident lenghtly due to it being classified."

She takes a sip from her glass. She had relaxed, but that was now being once again replaced by her putting up her guard (and layers of walls between herself and her emotions) and preparing for whatever might happen.

"...I know its a bit much to ask, but I'd be curious to hear about what Mark Anthony actually did. But I also understand that now might not be the time..if ever."

"Now's not exactly the time, no, besides the fact he made me look like an idiot."  She flexes honestly incredible biceps and twitches, "Nothing like smart little pricks using their intelligence the wrong way to cock up everything..."

"Atas, if you're only here to grouse to Lyla that this happened at all, you should leave.  What's happened has happened, and just complaining isn't going to fix anything or help anyone.  And it'll only annoy us."

"Was it worth it?"  She asks Lyla, seemingly ignoring Sayeed, "Saving his skin at least helped the Last Refuge somehow, right?"