Characters: Micah, Amethyst
Location: Parlor - Mandrake Manor - Amber
--[ Parlor ]---------------------------------------
Of the rooms of the ground floor, the parlor has survived the best,
and kept to its intended purpose. Warm wood panels line the walls, lit
with oil sconces and, when the drapes are pulled back, southern
daylight. Thick carpets dampen footsteps, and provide a protected
resting place for chairs and couches arranged in comfortable
conversation clusters. A small game table occupies one corner, and the
other is claimed by a tall sideboard, though the crystal and glassware
it currently holds is mismatched.
The main foyer is to the west. To the north is a heavy door leading to
the library, and to the east, a lockable door secures a small office.
--[ lhelp ]---------------------------------------
Oh the weather outside is frightful... No, really, it's not. The clouds have cleared off and it's nicely bright and sunny. Perfect weather for riding home in. The horse had been passed off, and Micah had come inside. Now, he's here in the parlor. Pouring himself a drink. Scotch. Half a glass of it.
Amy has a book in hand, actually a fairly detailed book on the differences between nature in Rebma and Amber, written by some long forgotten scholar. The door to the parlour is opened for her, and she looks over at Farran. "You know, I'm going to grow totally incapable, if you keep that up." He just shakes his head and chuckles, bowing slightly. So, Amy enters, with a flounce of her skirts.
Micah sets the bottle down and is in the process of recapping it when Amy comes in. "Hey Amy. Want me to pour you something?" He smiles at her, appearing to be in a perfectly decent mood. Though, he does look somewhat less than well rested. Currently, he wears a dark blue coat, and a plain tunic and trousers. Boots. The usual.
Amy tilts her head, and then chuckles. Her book is set on a nearby table, ignored for the moment. "Certainly," she says. "Whatever you are drinking will be fine." She too appears to be in a good mood at the moment. There are no scales visible anywhere.
Micah reaches up to the cabinet above to get down another glass. There's a hesitation, a grimace, and then the glass is in hand and being brought back down to sit on the counter. He tips the bottle of scotch and pours the new glass full. The bottle is sat on the table, and the cap replaced. Micah catches up both glasses and turns to walk over to Amy, the full glass offered to her.
That gets a frown from Amy, that does. She's used to her cousin and his movements, and that's not right. "Micah?" she asks softly. "Are you alright? Really?" She does take the full glass, but it gets set right down on the table by her book. Farran, funny thing, goes to the door and calls something out.
Nope, not right at all. Micah's movements tend to be easy and somewhat flowing. He glances over to Farran at his calling something out, and then looks back to Amy. He nods to the question. "Yeah, I'm alright. Just a little.. um.. broken, I think. It's healing." He turns to walk over to a chair and sits down... gingerly. He even keeps his spine straight. And, now that she's watching, she might notice that his breathing is somewhat shallower than normal. He lifts his scotch and takes a drink of it.
Amy rolls her eyes at that. "Men. I imagine it is healing," she says. "Let's get that shirt off and see, yes?" Course, her eyes also immediately glow purple, as she moves over to take a look. "What happened?"
And it's worse! Mandrake men! Micah definitely is one of them. He grunts but sets aside his glass of scotch and starts unbuttoning buttons. He pulls the shirt open to reveal.... A nicely bandaged torso. It's well wrapped and appears to be keeping everything in place. On his right side, to the Sight, three ribs seem to have been a bit broken, but are healing nicely. It looks like it was done at least a week ago, maybe a week and a half. Micah heals fast. "I... got kicked." The healing bruises /are/ roughly human foot shaped.
Farran returns with Amy's medical kit. Those Mandrake guards have been learning. And he sets it down on the table by Micah, his own gaze going to the injury quietly. Amy doesn't just look though. Her fingers move to trace over skin, perfectly reasonably professionally. Mostly.
Micah is a well built male. He runs very nearly every day, sometimes more than once a day! He works out on top of the running. And he works in a forge. Abs. He has them. Nice ones! And freckles over fair skin. Goes with the red hair. He undoes the bandages, grunting softly with each unwrap where he has to twist just so. But they come off easily and then it's nothing but bare skin over muscle. He moves his arms out of the way and lets Amy have her way with him. Mandrake females. No getting around them, either.
Amy is very well aware of how nicely built Micah is. Even if he is her cousin. She watches to see where Micah flinches, and where he doesn't, checking the uninjured ribs, and the injured ones. Though there is a bit of fire in her eyes. "Kicked? Who kicked you?" she asks, her voice neutral, even if her fingers haven't quite left those abs.
Micah sits very still, for the most part. He only flinches a little in the places around those broken spots. She's not twisting anything or moving the broken pieces against each other, so little flinches is all she gets. "It was my own fault, Amy," he says. "And I got far less than I deserved." He's not admitting to a name, nope.
"The same person who broke your wrist?" Amy asks, at least taking that guess. She doesn't need to twist or move the broken pieces, just to feel them. "If we were off in a modern world, I'd take xrays, but as I'm sure you know, you broke three ribs. Did you bandage them yourselves?" She finally, with great concentration, gets her hands off Micah, and she takes a moment to take a big drink.
Really, Micah doesn't seem to mind the touch. Except when she's prodding the ribs, of course. Then again, he's had quite a /lot/ of lingering hands with Elsa the Cook too... He lifts a shoulder but doesn't answer the question. His eyes stray off to over near the couch. On the floor there seems to be a bit of dried blood he'd missed in the cleaning up. Crap. His eyes linger on it even as he talks to Amy. "Xrays? And yes, I figured it was at least three. No, I didn't. Elsa did."
Amy nods at that. "Who is Elsa?" she asks, curiously. Name she's never heard after all. She then moves to her kit, pulling out a potion and taking it to any bruises and the ribs. It's a bit warm, but it's also a pain killer. Then she rewraps the ribs. "This salve will help with the pain, but you do still need to be a bit careful, right? When did you get kicked again? Oh, Xrays are modern technology that let you see inside someone, sort of, without cutting them open. Nice things."
Micah turns his eyes from that spot of blood over there and back to Amy. "Elsa is Lady Elizabetta Karm's Cook, out at the Hasp. She put a salve on too." He closes his eyes as she puts that potion on his tender ribs and bruises. Well. Bruise. One big bruise. It looks like it was just the one time connection. So to speak. He holds perfectly still as she wraps his ribs again. And refrains from deep breaths. Those are still tender! Ouchie even! He nods abou the salve. "Yes, careful. Um. Yesterday afternoon." He tilts his head at the xrays, and then nods. "Sounds like it. Why don't we have xrays here?"
Amy chuckles at that and then she says, "They are technologically based, and such things don't work here in Amber. I am not exactly sure why, but they don't." She is gentle, but the wrapping will definitely be well done. Practiced and master work, even. This is what she does after all. "You heal fast. Good to know," she says. "But I'd expect that, of a Mandrake." Or one of Oberon's spawn, but never mind that.
Micah nods slowly. "I wonder why that is," he murmurs. Of technology not working, that is. When she's done wrapping the ribs, Micah reaches for his shirt again and carefully slips into it. He nods. "Yep. Always have healed fast. Isn't the first time I've broken my ribs, doubt it'll be the last," he comments lightly. He smiles to her and nods his agreement about her expecting that of a Mandrake. "How are you today, Amy?"
Amy shrugs at the question about the magic vs technology. "I don't know. Maybe Quinlan does." She settles into a seat, and then says, "I am okay, I suppose, thank you for asking. I just - feel a bit scattered of late, though I'm not sure why."
Micah reaches for his drink and takes a sip of it. He tilts his head and then nods. "Right. Quinlan. Redheaded mage, owns a boat. Right?" He's only met the man twice. And he was distracted by a woman the first time! He frowns and focuses his attention back on Amy. "Any ideas why?" Now it's Micah's turn to be worried. And while his eyes don't glow, the hazel does lighten toward gold.
Amy chuckles softly. "Yes, that's Quinlan. He's a good cousin to know." She takes a breath, and then she says, "I'm fine, really. Healthy, and - just - a little emotional." That comes with a bit of a sigh. "It's kind of like, I just -find some things are suddenly far more attractive then they maybe should be? And I get happy or upset a little faster."
"He seems a nice enough sort. Don't really know him though." Micah lifts a shoulder. That'll likely change, eventually. He nods to Amy. Of course. Who else is here? Oh, right. Farran is here still. So. Amy. He tilts his head to her, and his eyes shade back to their warm hazel again. "That doesn't sound like much fun. Well, getting happy faster is good," he points out. "So, what are you finding far more attactive?" He almost certainly knows at least one answer to that question.
Is that a bit of a blush on Amy's cheeks? Oh dear. She chuckles though, shaking her head. "Mostly men," she admits, honestly. "There's always something about them that can cause me to - " Her words drop off, at that, as she turns her attention to her drink. Not that it helps.
Micah sees that blush, oh yes he does. "Mostly men, huh?" He grins at her when she trails off. His shirt remains unbuttoned. And he pulls it open again. "You mean like this?" Because, you know, those abs are still very visible beneath the bandages wrapped around his ribs. And they go all the way down to disappear beneath his pants, too. Even his sides are muscley!
Amy's gaze goes to those abs alright. "Hrm?" she asks, and then she tears her gaze away, staring up at Micah. "Don't do that!" she grumbles, managing not to throw anything at him, given the ribs.
Micah grins as she does just what he'd intended. He winks at her. "But it was fun," he comments. He even goes so far as to slip out of his shirt to show off his arms. Big, muscley biceps. Did he mention the part about being a blacksmith? "What about this, am I allowed to do this?" He flexes his arms, striking a pose, in as much as he can while sitting and with a care for how he can and can't move with those ribs.
"I understand now why you got kicked," Amy points out. Her gaze goes to the arms, and then she just closes them. "Micah, you know I'm going to kick your ass for this, right?" Well, it sounds good anyway. Amy is torn between laughter and frustration. "See if I trust you with such conversation again."
Micah laughs softly and slips his shirt back on. He even buttons it up again. "It's safe to look now, Amy. I'm all covered." He's grinning, clearly amused, and it shows in his tone. "You can /try/ to kick my ass." He reaches out to pat her shoulder. "You know I only do so to gauge your reaction, yes? Now I know the mere sight... And can step between you and such things if I'm with you." He pauses and considers. "That's part of the dragon thing, isn't it?"
Amy shudders a bit, and then opens her eyes. She makes a face. "I think so, yes. It's just - like it's ramped up several hundred percent. No offense, you're cute and all, but I should have far better self control."
Micah rubs the shoulder and then pulls his hand back again. "I wonder..." His eyes get a sort of faraway look, and then he shakes his head. "Wish you had been here a few days ago, Amy. Lucian and Celeste got into a fight over a damned statue and Izett was injured in the process. I'm not sure how, I'm not good enough at knowing what the Sight is showing me yet." He studies her for a moment at that last bit. "If you'd like, I'll work with you on self control."
That gets a blink. "Izett was injured? Oh good gracious. Over a - statue? What statue?" Amy's apparently been oblivious to any such things, rather caught up in her own issue. "I'll have to find Izett and make sure she's okay," she adds after a moment. And then at Micah's offer to help, she flashes a grin. "You sure your self control is strong enough?"
Micah nods. "Yes, she was. Over a statue. A diamond studded dragon statue. Nice statue, but not worth fighting over." Micah shakes his head. "Near as I can understand, Lucian was taunting Celeste with it. So she turned dragon, took a snap at Izett, stole the statue, and punched a hole in the wall to get outside. Lucian knocked Izett out of the way and knocked the wind out of her at the very least. She wouldn't let Celeste heal her, not that I blame her." He nods again, and settles gingerly back in the chair. "She had Lucian take her back to Argent." He pauses and smiles and nods. "I'm sure, yes. I have a decent amount of self control."
Amy frowns, and then she says, "That does not sound good. I will definitely have to go visit Lady Izett and make sure she is okay." And then she looks at Micah, a very serious look from the usually lighthearted blonde. "I don't know if I should be insulted by that."
"She was holding herself very still and breathing shallowly. I suspect bruised ribs at the least." The serious look is met with a warm sunny smile. "Would you prefer it if I had none? That can be arranged if you like," he says, tone still amused.
"No, but - " Amy laughs. "I don't want you immune either!" So there. She shifts a bit, glancing over at Micah. "But no, apart from the very up front power of your abs, I would rather you not let me seduce you, thanks. Or any combination of such."
Micah turns sober at that and gives his cousin a very serious look. "Trust me, Amy. I'm not immune," he says. And then he smiles. "You're family. I shouldn't let myself get seduced by you, so I won't. And I won't seduce you. But, being aware of the... issue.. perhaps I can help. I'm game for it, at least."
Amy takes another drink of whiskey, and then she laughs. "I just hope I can - oh. Hey, want to come to court tomorrow?" There's a bit of amusement showing in her eyes, a sparkle returning at both his answer and her little idea.
"Plus, you have Remi, and I won't interfere with that." Micah grins at her. He tilts his head, and nods. "Sure. You need me to run interferance for you?" Micah seems amused by that. Then, "What should I wear..? Other than that set of clothes that I still can't get the stains out of from that damned oozing book of Syeira's, I have nothing fit for court."
"I have a seamstress full time on staff. She's trained by Izett, we can get you something to wear for court. Something Mandrakey, I suppose. And I should wear Dad's colours." Farran looks over and of course, the Mandrake colour guard are there as a lovely example.
Micah tilts his head, then shrugs and nods. "Alright. I'm game." He reaches for his scotch again and brings it to his mouth to take a drink of it. And takes a drink before setting it aside again. "What kind of something? I'm a blacksmith. Never really been much for anything fancy." He glances over to Farran and nods slowly.
Amy chuckles softly, and nods. "I usually let the seamstress work that sort of thing out." She grins, and then says, "And that reminds me, my cousin the blacksmith. You still have to show me about forges and bellows and being a blacksmith, when your ribs will allow."
Micah considers that, and then nods. "Right. I suppose we should go see your seamstress then, since court is tomorrow, right?" He grins back, and then nods about the blacksmithing stuff. "I can show you even with my ribs sore. Jonah knows how to run the bellows and can demonstrate. And I can show you the forge itself and what it entails. Answer questions and the like. Might be better to wait for actual physical work until my ribs are less sore in a few days."
Amy nods. A few days is all it will need, after all. "That's a deal," she says, with a nod. She finishes her whiskey and gets to her feet.