It's a little strange to have him treating her with... Well. She can seat herself perfectly fine on her own. When he starts paying that kind of attention to her, Kisara can't help the strange little flutter that crawls up her. She's not a shy woman by any means, but things become a little different when she doesn't always know how to handle what's put in her path.
She does eventually sit, letting him push in her chair. Unsure of what to do with her hands, she leaves them on her lap, adjusting how she sits, and she realises that she doesn't exactly know what one does at a 'proper' tea.
"That's not a complaint," she reassures him with a laugh. "It's just an observation I was making. And you're not wrong. I should probably figure out how to spend my free time when I'm not tending to things around here." Because no matter how much she's more than simply playing at guard, she still likes what she does.
She goes right down the line he expects her to. "I could fish, but you know me. I'd be gone for days at a time probably. Can't have you worrying about me. And I can't spend all of my time fishing. I was thinking about maybe visiting some of the places I used to frequent when Migal and I were younger."
"It is selfish, perhaps, but those long absences would be worrisome, despite the fact that I know full well you would be in the most capable hands possible." Those being her own— he smiles warmly as he reaches for the teapot and proceeds to fill both their cups, now that they're both settled.
"What sort of places were those?" It's honest curiosity; he still only knows bits and pieces about her life before she joined the guard, and he's always eager to learn more. Beyond that, he's curious to know if such ventures will take her far from the city— and if so, for how long.
Once again, bordering on selfish, he supposes, but he's come to find himself less and less content to allow the time between their meetings to stretch any further than it absolutely has to.
Worrisome. He'd worry if she was gone for too long? Kisara regards him thoughtfully for several breaths, thankful for the distraction once he's poured their tea. Taking her cup between her hands, she simply holds onto it, wondering how to more properly answer him. It's not that she's trying to keep him out of her past, but honestly, discussing Migal is still hard. For so long, she only had him. Losing him felt a bit like losing herself. It often continues to do so. Healing has no timeline. It is merely a gradual process, even for the strongest of people.
"Well, orphanages," she begins thoughtfully. "Since we lost our parents when we were young, we looked after each other. Although I guess it was really him looking after me. We could empathise easily with kids who went through similar things. Aside from that..."
Leaning onto her forearms thoughtfully, she wears a smaller smile, though it doesn't lack the warmth or sincerity she feels when she thinks of her brother. "Migal got me into fishing, so we used to go to lakes and ponds. Anywhere there was water. Sometimes I think it's nice just to get out of Viscint and have a break from things."
Not Dohalim, of course, but maybe the idea of duty in general.
“Perhaps on one of these trips, you might allow me to accompany you.”
Of course– she wished to visit the places that had played such an important part in shaping her into who she was today. He nods his understanding, thoughtful as he draws his cup and saucer towards himself and letting his elegant fingers curl around the former, his index finger resting lightly against the rim. These ventures would take her from the city, though perhaps not far– he is glad to know she hasn’t planned any extended absences in her near future, but he catches himself wondering over her choice of wording.
Getting out of Viscint— even before he says anything, he knows himself to be overthinking. After all they’ve seen, all they’ve done, city itself must seem small in addition to being filled with reminders of painful memories. Her duty, as well, has the potential to feel restrictive in comparison to the time they had spent traveling, as does his own work.
“Are you unhappy here in Viscint, Kisara?” It is a simple question, earnest in its curiosity rather than purely reactionary. It seems something worth addressing, especially given the sort of things that have been on his mind, as of late. “I realize it is not the city we once believed it to be. Time has changed it. Time has changed us. I worry, sometimes, that the city walls may be too stifling.”
"I didn't know you were interested in coming with."
Kisara finds herself smiling, just taking the moment to imagine what Dohalim would look like surrounded by children tugging at his robes, asking him to tell them stories or play them music. It's... a very endearing image. She's not sure how great he'd be with them, but his heart would be in the right place and she knows that much. Sometimes it's all about intention, regardless of the end result.
A smile continues to play at her lips as her eyes sink to the innards of her cup, seemingly content to lose herself in such simple thoughts. He draws her from that small reverie with his question and as she sets her attention back onto him, she issues out a laugh, though understands it comes from a place of uncertainty.
I should be more careful about how I say things like that.
"That's not what I was saying and you know it," she reassures him. Leaning onto her forearms, Kisara shakes her head. "This is where I belong. At your side, supporting you when you need it, that is where I should be. It doesn't mean I sometimes don't want to take a walk outside of it for a day or two. No matter how often I leave, or how long I'm gone for, I'll always come back. This is home."
Wherever he is, is home, though she won't dare say that.
He nods steadily, thoughtful. He had been projecting just a bit, perhaps, but his concerns are legitimate all the same— Kisara has never been the type to complain, and has ever put her responsibilities before her own needs. It is an admirable quality, one of her many strengths, but there is no denying that things have changed, as have they.
"I took no offense, either way— I only worry that now that we've seen so much of this world, Viscint might feel a bit small by comparison." Two worlds, in truth, though there had not been much of Rena to see. "Still... I am glad to hear it. To have that reassurance. I would undoubtedly be lost without you."
He depended on her for moral support when it came to his work and the reforms they sought to push through, yes, but it was more than that— and while he doesn't say so, there's a faint shift in his gaze as he considers something, pausing to lift his cup to his lips and drink.
"I was thinking of a more permanent position for you within the city— one I hope you will give due consideration."
"Any one place would feel small by comparison," Kisara points out, thinking there's little more than unbridled truth in such a statement.
It's an obvious one. Of course after seeing the world, two of them, that one place would have a difficult time living up to that. But she doesn't stay in Viscint because it's exciting or because it may not be. She stays there because regardless of how things have been, it's home. Undoubtedly, the idea of 'home' can be applied to Dohalim as well. Her memories tie her to this place, lacking glamour though it may, and the lingering feelings that are imprinted upon her heart do the same.
"I would undoubtedly be lost without you."
She doesn't believe that for a moment, though she doesn't think to say as much. Easier to turn those words over in her head than it is to debate them willingly with him. She settles for curling her fingers in against the curve of her teacup. The furrow in her brow deepens when he continues, and he only piles on more heavy thoughts atop already preexisting ones.
"A more permanent position?" she asks. "Guarding you is not already permanent? Are you that worried about me wandering off?" Kisara huffs out a laugh. "That's not going to happen. It's not as if I'm going to fall into a fishing hole somewhere and never come home, Do."
"That's not— precisely what I mean," he responds, stumbling over his words only slightly, and though his dark complexion makes it a bit difficult to tell, at least for anyone who didn't know him so well as she did, there is color in his cheeks.
"Your loyalty has been unfailing, even when I am certain I did not deserve it. That you have stayed here in Viscint as long as you have, that you spend your time with me so freely... truly, I am humbled. I know that you're not to wander off, never to return, but I do not see you as my guard."
Of course, given all they've been through together, how could he? They were far more than that— and there is no one else in this city who would dream of calling him 'Do,' a familiarity that sets her apart, as so many things about her do.
He lowers his cup to the table once more, curling the fingers of both hands around it as he closes his eyes for a moment to compose himself.
"I was hoping you would consider becoming my wife."
For a poet, it is almost painfully unromantic, asking such a thing over afternoon tea as though it were a business proposition.
It would be so easy to argue with him. To tell him that he's every bit worth her protection. That he's every bit worth her time and presence. He always has been. That is not up for dispute, not up for debate. Protests sit on the tip of her tongue. They almost make it all the way out of her mouth, but what he follows up with kills them.
Absolutely. Totally.
For many moments, Kisara simply looks at him. Without even realising it, her hands tighten on her teacup. She's familiar with any number of conversations. Any number of topics, though to her credit, most of them deal with food. With fishing. It's not as if she's made it a point to talk much about marriage or relationships in general. Guarding Dohalim has been something of a full-time job, though she doesn't really consider it a job at all. An honour? Something like that.
Her lips part. Nothing comes out. They purse. Kisara repeats the cycle more than a few times. What is she supposed to say to that?
"I'm sorry?"
Seems to be the only thing she can say in response and it's about as lacking in grace as Dohalim's proposal.
What more could anyone expect her to say? Dohalim himself seems only slightly baffled by the fact that he must repeat himself— he had been clear enough, had he not?
“I would like for you to be my wife,” he says somewhat more succinctly, his head tipping slightly. He’s aware that these sorts of things are generally done with a great deal more fanfare, and perhaps he should have prepared something more poetic, but Kisara has ever been the sort to appreciate when someone is straightforward, or so he has observed.
“If you have had other offers, I would hardly be surprised— but I hope you will give mine some consideration.”
It's not that she didn't hear him. She heard him just fine. Having him clarify, which isn't necessary by any means, just solidifies what he said originally. Dohalim isn't the sort to kid around. In consequence, Kisara understands he's being quite serious. It doesn't mean she knows what to say just yet.
Her gaze drops onto her tea for some moments. Wasn't she just thinking about this? She knows she was. But it doesn't seem exactly right for her to bring something like that up with him. Her heart threatens to lodge itself right into her throat. Her feelings for him are undeniable. That pull between them, the bond that they have, those things too, are undeniable.
"That's not—"
Kisara begins, uttering out something that's kind of like a laugh. Not quite there, but close. "That's not really what I was getting at. It's not like that, Do." She settles her weight onto her right forearm as she eyes him for several long moments. "Do you think this is what Viscint would want?" Does it matter what Viscint would want? Maybe not in the grand spectrum of things.
"Is that really what you want? If you're just trying to keep me here, you don't have to do that. I know that the place I belong is next to you."
She almost laughs, and he's not certain if it's at him or the situation itself. Perhaps she is really so startled that she doesn't know what to make of it. As it stands, she studies him for several moments before turning the question back on him in her own way. He nods, to start, eyelids lowering as he places his hand over his heart.
"I have thought about it at great length," he begins, "Though perhaps it was an error to do so without giving you any indication beforehand. Selfish of me, I suppose; such an important decision should, of course, be made only if it satisfies both parties. It is not simply about keeping you here. I know that this is home."
Viscint means too much for both of them for either of them to leave it for long, even if their lives look different than they once had going forward.
Kisara feels her nerves spark up all over again at that realisation. How many times has he run over this scenario in his head? At what point did he decide he should say something? What was the point of no return? It's not as though she can sit here and pretend she doesn't think about things like that. Of course she does. But it's just not a subject she can easily approach. Not with him of all people.
Colour dots along her cheeks and she dips her gaze onto her tea, using it for some moments to drown herself in until she empties it and is left with only the weighted moment that grasps them both. Technically, Dohalim didn't ask her a question, so it's not as if she has to actually provide him with an answer, but at the same time, he probably needs to know that she's not outright rejecting the idea.
"Then..." she begins quietly, only uncertain with the words she intends to use, not the truth or sincerity behind them. "...Then I'd like to stay with you as long as you would have me. I guess it'd be a lie to say I didn't think about..." She motions between the two of them. "Us. I've probably thought about it ever since Shionne and Alphen married. Wondered what you thought of that. If you'd ever thought about it. What you thought of it. Always figured you were too busy with our people to really consider it. Didn't seem right to ask. And I was already here. So I thought maybe that was good enough."
All things considered, it is a very practical sort of discussion on both sides, and it's only for the briefest of moments that he reconsiders his approach. This was hardly the first time he has thought to say something, but for all that he claims to be a free spirit, for all that he allows himself to be moved by music and poetry, spontenaeity had failed him on each and every occasion. Whether it was because the moment felt wrong or he had lost his nerve, he could never quite say, but for a time, it had seemed like he might not allow himself to say anything at all if he kept on as he was.
Putting such an offer on the table like this was perhaps not the most romantic, but at least they were talking about things. About them, about this undefined thing that had been allowed to grow between them, that had persisted despite their hardships and his own failures.
He listens patiently, his fingers curled gently around his own cup as he lowers his hand from his heart, and once she has finished, he gives a single nod, a reserved show of understanding.
"I... did not know how to begin such a conversation," he confesses, and a smile gently pulls at one side of his mouth. In this moment, he is unpolished, graceless. "Before we left Viscint, I had worried it would be unwise to do so, for your sake."
Not everyone in Elde Menancia had agreed with his way of doing things, though he hadn't known then how deep that unrest had run. To show his affection for the Dahnan captain of his guard— he cared not what people thought of him, but it might have put her at great risk.
After that, of course, things had changed. He wouldn't have blamed her if she'd chosen to never give him a second glance, but that she still held him in such high regard now... he had known, of course, been almost certain, or he wouldn't have said something in the first place, but neither of them seemed particularly prepared to approach the subject directly at any point.
"A great deal has changed since then." Including himself. "How I feel has not."
He has thought about this even before they left Viscint?
Kisara draws her gaze up from her tea and onto him, wondering how long this has been going on between them without her ever really knowing. It would be convenient to dismiss it with timing and circumstance. Isn't that the excuse that gets used for everything else? But there's valid reasoning in what he has to say. Before the discoveries they'd made, while it would have been a pragmatic way of uniting their people, without a doubt there would have been some that objected.
Perhaps even loudly. To say nothing of assassination attempts. What better way to disrupt a kingdom than to kill a newly-crowned ruler. Or the lord who sought to take her as his wife. Kisara frowns for just a moment, but it's easily put aside. That was then and this is now. Things are decisively different now. He's not wrong when he says that a great deal has changed.
Studying him, she shakes her head slowly. "No, I understand," she reassures him, thinking this is probably the least romantic way she could think to have such a conversation. Maybe that makes sense for a lord, though. He has to approach this with an air of practicality. As much as he isn't really a 'lord,' by older traditions, he still is to the core of himself. At the thought, a small little tug forms at the corner of her mouth as she takes him in.
"Could have fooled me," she begins, trying to drop levity into a situation where there is very much little of it. "Having such a serious conversation with me. As if we're briefing or getting ready to instate some kind of patrol route." Kisara issues a laugh as she lifts her cup and finishes it. "I thought we weren't supposed to be talking about work at tea. That's not possibly why you wanted me to sit down with you."
It is good to see her smile, to hear her laugh, and he laughs openly in turn at last, feeling some of the tension of the moment leave him. He had been earnest in his proposal, but he at least recognizes that this was hardly the most conventional way to go about such things. That she is able to laugh here with him rather than dismissing it out of hand or simply standing up to take her leave— it speaks well as to how they might proceed, even if the matter is not a simple one, even with things having changed as dramatically as they have.
"I suppose it did come out that way," he admits, and there's a sheepish curve to his smile, gently humility in the way his gaze softens.
"Given my liking for poetry and music, I'd have thought myself capable of coming up with something decidedly more romantic, but it was more challenging than I expected."
Likely because he was thinking about it too hard. After all, he's recited poetry to her without missing a beat in the past, composed on the spot.
Just like that, the strange little weight in the air lifts just a touch and Kisara feels herself relax. Not completely, but enough that she no longer feels that she's on the spot. That he may be resting attentively for her answer, which, in her opinion, she's already given. It may not have been a particularly forward acceptance, but she already knows that she simply wants to be at his side. In any capacity.
...Does she knows how to be a wife? She doubts it. Wouldn't he want someone who's a little less rough around the edges? Kisara has no shortage of uncertainties, but his mind is set. Dohalim is not a fickle man. He does not change his mind easily. If he's come to this conclusion, this very moment, it's all very deliberate on his part. He means every word of it.
She meets the change in his expression with a softened, sympathetic one of her own. She shouldn't tease him overmuch. After a moment's pause, Kisara shakes her head at him. "No, no. I think maybe the way you approached it was the best way. Sometimes being direct is the best way for both of us." She taps her fingertips against her teacup before she continues. "If you hadn't, it's possible I would have thought you were kidding."
Though the answer has not been given to him in simple terms, it is there in the fact that she remains, that she laughs with him, that they have both made it perfectly clear where it is they think they belong. Elde Menancia is his home, but it is not the realm alone that makes it so, nor is it the people of its capital— without Kisara, he has no doubt it would come to feel empty, lacking. She has been such an important part of his life both before and during their journey, he cannot imagine going on without her. Who is he without Kisara to keep him mindful of what it is he dreams, and did he not better himself largely because he was inspired by her?
His expression turns just a touch rueful at her observation, followed by a soft chuckle. He can hardly argue— it might have been just as she’d said.
“I don’t think of myself as the sort to tease about such important matters, but one never knows. I have changed a fair bit over the course of our travels— the mannerisms of others have undoubtedly rubbed off on me.” Hers, as well; her companionship was what he had treasured most during their journey, though each and every member of their company was important to them.
“Am I too bold in assuming that you’ll consider it? Nothing need be rushed, of course; I think we are overdue to spend time together without some of our own self-imposed formalities in the way, but… you do not seem opposed.”
Of course she hasn't rejected it. And she knows he isn't really the teasing type. Especially not about something so serious. Her expression turns sympathetic. She shouldn't make too lightly of the situation. She puts her teacup aside and crosses one arm over the other as she leans onto them, eyeing him for several breaths as she considers how to more properly respond.
"I'm not opposed," she begins, choosing her words with care before she continues. "I agree that... it'd be good for us to have some time together that isn't involved with running Viscint or any kind of leadership and guard involved. Just be us." Kisara raises her eyebrows, a mixture of uncertainty and hopefulness seeping into the features of her face and the tresses of blonde that frame it.
"I'm not sure I want to answer you right away." Not so overtly anyway. "Do you think you can wait a little? That's not a no, Dohalim. Just... When I say 'yes,' I want it to be perfect."
Her approach, of course, is a practical one, something he can appreciate. She articulates herself well, and her feelings make sense, perhaps even echo his own if he allows himself more time to think on them. They serve as a reminder that they have time, that there is no need to hurry such things, and his smile softens as he closes his eyes a moment, bowing his head in acquiescence.
"Of course."
As though he could bring himself to deny her anything— but more than that, she is right.
"You do make an excellent point. We could use more time together that is simply our own. Fortunately, time is something we now have." He opens his eyes once more and raises his gaze to meet her own, his expression as patient as it is affectionate. "I will gladly wait as long as you need. It would be good for both of us, I think."
She's not expected him to say anything other than agreement. Dohalim is an intelligent and intuitive man, sometimes prone to impassioned behaviour, but aren't they all? If it's true that he's held onto these feelings, quite likely as long as she has in return, then it's only natural that at a point a feeling of potential resignation might set in. She wonders, if he'd not brought up the topic, if she would have and she decides rather quickly, perhaps not.
Kisara is almost certain that some time before she resigned herself to believing that her feelings for him have held no place in their circumstances. That they have been, frankly, inappropriate. But who makes that kind of judgement? Her, she supposes. A fear of what others around them might think. Old habits are hang to break. Even if things have changed, sometimes it requires a little time for the rest of her to catch up to the present.
"I... yes. Yes, I guess we do," she admits with a sheepish smile.
No amount of looking at her teacup will fill it again, so eventually after the momentary tensing of her hand, Kisara settles for simply folding one hand atop the other. Is her posture too straight? Maybe. She wasn't sure what he wanted to talk with her about when he invited her to join him and it's evident that a proposal was not anywhere in that list of potential expectations.
"Maybe we shouldn't... make necessarily a public thing of it?" Her head tips as she eyes Dohalim, her shoulders finally dropping a touch. "I don't know how Viscint might take it. Or her people. Not that I guess we could hide that kind of thing forever. I don't really know what I'm doing here. Can you tell? Because I can tell."
He offers her a sheepish smile of his own in return; naturally, neither of them knows exactly what they're doing in this situation. At least they have the opportunity to learn together, to move forward and find their way in what he considers to be the best of company.
"It's a first for me, as well," he reminds her, one corner of his mouth quirking upwards, and he shakes his head as he reaches for the teapot between them, gesturing towards her cup with an upturned hand to ask whether she'd like more.
"Perhaps it would be best to keep it between ourselves, for now." Does that mean keeping it from their companions, as well? He doubts any of them would talk, and in some cases, he doesn't think they would be terribly surprised, either, but if Kisara would rather not share, then he can certainly respect that. "It will take us both some time to learn to navigate this, and though I have the utmost faith in the people of our fair city, I realize it may not be so simple."
Some may protest, though he thinks many more would be happy to see the line between Dahnan and Renan entirely erased. The two of them have the opportunity to serve as a shining example of coexistance— but that's not why he asked.
He tucks his chin downwards, his lower lip catching briefly against his teeth, boyish.
"I can't say I would mind keeping you to myself for some time."
Kisara offers him a nod, a silent answer to the implied question. Tea would be good, even if it's just a distraction. She's not even certain she intends to drink it. It's almost like she just wants to hold it. Maybe look inside of it because Dohalim's stunning eyes are not what she'll find there.
At his agreement, she feels a sense of weight lift from her shoulders. She can understand why, perhaps, the people of Viscint would prefer to see them be open. Given all they've been through, it would be the morale boost that everyone could benefit from. A distraction and a reason to look toward a brighter future. Surely, they will forgive their former lord and his former guard captain for waiting to be so public about their feelings or... wherever those feelings may choose to go.
Marriage, she supposes. That's a weighted word. A little frightening.
"Thank you for understanding," she begins thoughtfully.
Whatever she may consider following up with fades rather quickly as she watches the way he dips his chin. It's a subtle little tip, but she is, admittedly, incredibly charmed by him then and there. She often has been, whether she chooses to admit it or not.
The words that come from him next threaten to knock the wind out of her. For some moments, she's almost certain that they do. "Er. I. Wasn't aware that you thought that you had to worry about something like that."
He fills her cup without quite giving up that boyish bite of his lip, though he takes a moment to compose himself once more as he nudges her cup back towards her and proceeds to refill his own, letting the sound of tea being poured fill the momentary silence.
Was he worried about it? He hadn’t quite considered it from that angle, but her asking does make him realize that he must have known, at least subconsciously, that whatever they chose to become or to do would likely be made a spectacle of sorts, given their respective positions.
Keeping it to themselves as they learn one another and explore their feelings is sounding better and better, and he is grateful Kisara had suggested it, as he may not have had the foresight to do so.
“We are both likely to garner a great deal of attention when word gets around,” he confesses, though he smiles as he does so, even knowing they might have a small handful of dissenters among all those who would support them. “The former lord and former guard captain– a great many people in this city have affection for the both of us. Considering things from that angle, we may well be grateful for what privacy we can get.”
They deserve as much, as they sort out their feelings now that they’ve finally come to light.
“It had not been my intention to blindside you with any of this, I might add. For all my hours spent reading and writing poetry, I have found my feelings far more difficult to express– or when I have managed to do so, I fear they have been too obscured by poetic imagery.”
Kisara was a woman who was, herself, direct. In that, they were often complete opposites.
Wordlessly, Kisara admires him for some breaths longer, very well aware of how nice he is to look at and take in. They aren't really things she'd say to him so transparently, and he likely already knows that he's quite the sight to behold. It could possibly be very silly to tell him something he's aware of. Instead, she focuses on the sound of the tea being poured and once he carefully scoots her cup back over to her in his eloquent way, she doesn't waste much time in lifting it. She uses it to stall for time and thought, blowing on its surface that she might be able to better use it to hide herself behind.
"That's... probably true," she begins, lifting her eyebrows in contemplation. "We're both already well known. We probably won't be able to hide it for long, given how much we're in the public eye. Should enjoy the moments that we don't have to discuss it openly." Not that she's... going to be particularly good at discussing it, anyway. It occurs to her that if someone were to ask her what her feelings were for the former lord, she wouldn't know how to answer it properly.
Love. Appreciation. Understanding.
Some of those might be too weighted for her to admit to. Clearing her throat, Kisara shakes her head. "No, no. I—" Jeez. "No. It's fine. Nothing I can't handle. I can definitely confirm for you that there wasn't really anything poetic about what you had to say. I think I appreciate it more like that. Poetry isn't everything. Sometimes..."
Kisara pauses for some moments, taking the time to sip from her teacup just to test the temperature. "...Sometimes you just have to be forward. Sometimes that's the only way to approach a situation."
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She does eventually sit, letting him push in her chair. Unsure of what to do with her hands, she leaves them on her lap, adjusting how she sits, and she realises that she doesn't exactly know what one does at a 'proper' tea.
"That's not a complaint," she reassures him with a laugh. "It's just an observation I was making. And you're not wrong. I should probably figure out how to spend my free time when I'm not tending to things around here." Because no matter how much she's more than simply playing at guard, she still likes what she does.
She goes right down the line he expects her to. "I could fish, but you know me. I'd be gone for days at a time probably. Can't have you worrying about me. And I can't spend all of my time fishing. I was thinking about maybe visiting some of the places I used to frequent when Migal and I were younger."
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"What sort of places were those?" It's honest curiosity; he still only knows bits and pieces about her life before she joined the guard, and he's always eager to learn more. Beyond that, he's curious to know if such ventures will take her far from the city— and if so, for how long.
Once again, bordering on selfish, he supposes, but he's come to find himself less and less content to allow the time between their meetings to stretch any further than it absolutely has to.
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"Well, orphanages," she begins thoughtfully. "Since we lost our parents when we were young, we looked after each other. Although I guess it was really him looking after me. We could empathise easily with kids who went through similar things. Aside from that..."
Leaning onto her forearms thoughtfully, she wears a smaller smile, though it doesn't lack the warmth or sincerity she feels when she thinks of her brother. "Migal got me into fishing, so we used to go to lakes and ponds. Anywhere there was water. Sometimes I think it's nice just to get out of Viscint and have a break from things."
Not Dohalim, of course, but maybe the idea of duty in general.
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Of course– she wished to visit the places that had played such an important part in shaping her into who she was today. He nods his understanding, thoughtful as he draws his cup and saucer towards himself and letting his elegant fingers curl around the former, his index finger resting lightly against the rim. These ventures would take her from the city, though perhaps not far– he is glad to know she hasn’t planned any extended absences in her near future, but he catches himself wondering over her choice of wording.
Getting out of Viscint— even before he says anything, he knows himself to be overthinking. After all they’ve seen, all they’ve done, city itself must seem small in addition to being filled with reminders of painful memories. Her duty, as well, has the potential to feel restrictive in comparison to the time they had spent traveling, as does his own work.
“Are you unhappy here in Viscint, Kisara?” It is a simple question, earnest in its curiosity rather than purely reactionary. It seems something worth addressing, especially given the sort of things that have been on his mind, as of late. “I realize it is not the city we once believed it to be. Time has changed it. Time has changed us. I worry, sometimes, that the city walls may be too stifling.”
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Kisara finds herself smiling, just taking the moment to imagine what Dohalim would look like surrounded by children tugging at his robes, asking him to tell them stories or play them music. It's... a very endearing image. She's not sure how great he'd be with them, but his heart would be in the right place and she knows that much. Sometimes it's all about intention, regardless of the end result.
A smile continues to play at her lips as her eyes sink to the innards of her cup, seemingly content to lose herself in such simple thoughts. He draws her from that small reverie with his question and as she sets her attention back onto him, she issues out a laugh, though understands it comes from a place of uncertainty.
I should be more careful about how I say things like that.
"That's not what I was saying and you know it," she reassures him. Leaning onto her forearms, Kisara shakes her head. "This is where I belong. At your side, supporting you when you need it, that is where I should be. It doesn't mean I sometimes don't want to take a walk outside of it for a day or two. No matter how often I leave, or how long I'm gone for, I'll always come back. This is home."
Wherever he is, is home, though she won't dare say that.
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"I took no offense, either way— I only worry that now that we've seen so much of this world, Viscint might feel a bit small by comparison." Two worlds, in truth, though there had not been much of Rena to see. "Still... I am glad to hear it. To have that reassurance. I would undoubtedly be lost without you."
He depended on her for moral support when it came to his work and the reforms they sought to push through, yes, but it was more than that— and while he doesn't say so, there's a faint shift in his gaze as he considers something, pausing to lift his cup to his lips and drink.
"I was thinking of a more permanent position for you within the city— one I hope you will give due consideration."
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It's an obvious one. Of course after seeing the world, two of them, that one place would have a difficult time living up to that. But she doesn't stay in Viscint because it's exciting or because it may not be. She stays there because regardless of how things have been, it's home. Undoubtedly, the idea of 'home' can be applied to Dohalim as well. Her memories tie her to this place, lacking glamour though it may, and the lingering feelings that are imprinted upon her heart do the same.
"I would undoubtedly be lost without you."
She doesn't believe that for a moment, though she doesn't think to say as much. Easier to turn those words over in her head than it is to debate them willingly with him. She settles for curling her fingers in against the curve of her teacup. The furrow in her brow deepens when he continues, and he only piles on more heavy thoughts atop already preexisting ones.
"A more permanent position?" she asks. "Guarding you is not already permanent? Are you that worried about me wandering off?" Kisara huffs out a laugh. "That's not going to happen. It's not as if I'm going to fall into a fishing hole somewhere and never come home, Do."
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"Your loyalty has been unfailing, even when I am certain I did not deserve it. That you have stayed here in Viscint as long as you have, that you spend your time with me so freely... truly, I am humbled. I know that you're not to wander off, never to return, but I do not see you as my guard."
Of course, given all they've been through together, how could he? They were far more than that— and there is no one else in this city who would dream of calling him 'Do,' a familiarity that sets her apart, as so many things about her do.
He lowers his cup to the table once more, curling the fingers of both hands around it as he closes his eyes for a moment to compose himself.
"I was hoping you would consider becoming my wife."
For a poet, it is almost painfully unromantic, asking such a thing over afternoon tea as though it were a business proposition.
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Absolutely.
Totally.
For many moments, Kisara simply looks at him. Without even realising it, her hands tighten on her teacup. She's familiar with any number of conversations. Any number of topics, though to her credit, most of them deal with food. With fishing. It's not as if she's made it a point to talk much about marriage or relationships in general. Guarding Dohalim has been something of a full-time job, though she doesn't really consider it a job at all. An honour? Something like that.
Her lips part. Nothing comes out. They purse. Kisara repeats the cycle more than a few times. What is she supposed to say to that?
"I'm sorry?"
Seems to be the only thing she can say in response and it's about as lacking in grace as Dohalim's proposal.
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“I would like for you to be my wife,” he says somewhat more succinctly, his head tipping slightly. He’s aware that these sorts of things are generally done with a great deal more fanfare, and perhaps he should have prepared something more poetic, but Kisara has ever been the sort to appreciate when someone is straightforward, or so he has observed.
“If you have had other offers, I would hardly be surprised— but I hope you will give mine some consideration.”
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Her gaze drops onto her tea for some moments. Wasn't she just thinking about this? She knows she was. But it doesn't seem exactly right for her to bring something like that up with him. Her heart threatens to lodge itself right into her throat. Her feelings for him are undeniable. That pull between them, the bond that they have, those things too, are undeniable.
"That's not—"
Kisara begins, uttering out something that's kind of like a laugh. Not quite there, but close. "That's not really what I was getting at. It's not like that, Do." She settles her weight onto her right forearm as she eyes him for several long moments. "Do you think this is what Viscint would want?" Does it matter what Viscint would want? Maybe not in the grand spectrum of things.
"Is that really what you want? If you're just trying to keep me here, you don't have to do that. I know that the place I belong is next to you."
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"I have thought about it at great length," he begins, "Though perhaps it was an error to do so without giving you any indication beforehand. Selfish of me, I suppose; such an important decision should, of course, be made only if it satisfies both parties. It is not simply about keeping you here. I know that this is home."
Viscint means too much for both of them for either of them to leave it for long, even if their lives look different than they once had going forward.
"The place I belong is beside you, as well."
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...Really?
Kisara feels her nerves spark up all over again at that realisation. How many times has he run over this scenario in his head? At what point did he decide he should say something? What was the point of no return? It's not as though she can sit here and pretend she doesn't think about things like that. Of course she does. But it's just not a subject she can easily approach. Not with him of all people.
Colour dots along her cheeks and she dips her gaze onto her tea, using it for some moments to drown herself in until she empties it and is left with only the weighted moment that grasps them both. Technically, Dohalim didn't ask her a question, so it's not as if she has to actually provide him with an answer, but at the same time, he probably needs to know that she's not outright rejecting the idea.
"Then..." she begins quietly, only uncertain with the words she intends to use, not the truth or sincerity behind them. "...Then I'd like to stay with you as long as you would have me. I guess it'd be a lie to say I didn't think about..." She motions between the two of them. "Us. I've probably thought about it ever since Shionne and Alphen married. Wondered what you thought of that. If you'd ever thought about it. What you thought of it. Always figured you were too busy with our people to really consider it. Didn't seem right to ask. And I was already here. So I thought maybe that was good enough."
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Putting such an offer on the table like this was perhaps not the most romantic, but at least they were talking about things. About them, about this undefined thing that had been allowed to grow between them, that had persisted despite their hardships and his own failures.
He listens patiently, his fingers curled gently around his own cup as he lowers his hand from his heart, and once she has finished, he gives a single nod, a reserved show of understanding.
"I... did not know how to begin such a conversation," he confesses, and a smile gently pulls at one side of his mouth. In this moment, he is unpolished, graceless. "Before we left Viscint, I had worried it would be unwise to do so, for your sake."
Not everyone in Elde Menancia had agreed with his way of doing things, though he hadn't known then how deep that unrest had run. To show his affection for the Dahnan captain of his guard— he cared not what people thought of him, but it might have put her at great risk.
After that, of course, things had changed. He wouldn't have blamed her if she'd chosen to never give him a second glance, but that she still held him in such high regard now... he had known, of course, been almost certain, or he wouldn't have said something in the first place, but neither of them seemed particularly prepared to approach the subject directly at any point.
"A great deal has changed since then." Including himself. "How I feel has not."
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Kisara draws her gaze up from her tea and onto him, wondering how long this has been going on between them without her ever really knowing. It would be convenient to dismiss it with timing and circumstance. Isn't that the excuse that gets used for everything else? But there's valid reasoning in what he has to say. Before the discoveries they'd made, while it would have been a pragmatic way of uniting their people, without a doubt there would have been some that objected.
Perhaps even loudly. To say nothing of assassination attempts. What better way to disrupt a kingdom than to kill a newly-crowned ruler. Or the lord who sought to take her as his wife. Kisara frowns for just a moment, but it's easily put aside. That was then and this is now. Things are decisively different now. He's not wrong when he says that a great deal has changed.
Studying him, she shakes her head slowly. "No, I understand," she reassures him, thinking this is probably the least romantic way she could think to have such a conversation. Maybe that makes sense for a lord, though. He has to approach this with an air of practicality. As much as he isn't really a 'lord,' by older traditions, he still is to the core of himself. At the thought, a small little tug forms at the corner of her mouth as she takes him in.
"Could have fooled me," she begins, trying to drop levity into a situation where there is very much little of it. "Having such a serious conversation with me. As if we're briefing or getting ready to instate some kind of patrol route." Kisara issues a laugh as she lifts her cup and finishes it. "I thought we weren't supposed to be talking about work at tea. That's not possibly why you wanted me to sit down with you."
She's teasing him. How can she possibly refuse?
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"I suppose it did come out that way," he admits, and there's a sheepish curve to his smile, gently humility in the way his gaze softens.
"Given my liking for poetry and music, I'd have thought myself capable of coming up with something decidedly more romantic, but it was more challenging than I expected."
Likely because he was thinking about it too hard. After all, he's recited poetry to her without missing a beat in the past, composed on the spot.
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Just like that, the strange little weight in the air lifts just a touch and Kisara feels herself relax. Not completely, but enough that she no longer feels that she's on the spot. That he may be resting attentively for her answer, which, in her opinion, she's already given. It may not have been a particularly forward acceptance, but she already knows that she simply wants to be at his side. In any capacity.
...Does she knows how to be a wife? She doubts it. Wouldn't he want someone who's a little less rough around the edges? Kisara has no shortage of uncertainties, but his mind is set. Dohalim is not a fickle man. He does not change his mind easily. If he's come to this conclusion, this very moment, it's all very deliberate on his part. He means every word of it.
She meets the change in his expression with a softened, sympathetic one of her own. She shouldn't tease him overmuch. After a moment's pause, Kisara shakes her head at him. "No, no. I think maybe the way you approached it was the best way. Sometimes being direct is the best way for both of us." She taps her fingertips against her teacup before she continues. "If you hadn't, it's possible I would have thought you were kidding."
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His expression turns just a touch rueful at her observation, followed by a soft chuckle. He can hardly argue— it might have been just as she’d said.
“I don’t think of myself as the sort to tease about such important matters, but one never knows. I have changed a fair bit over the course of our travels— the mannerisms of others have undoubtedly rubbed off on me.” Hers, as well; her companionship was what he had treasured most during their journey, though each and every member of their company was important to them.
“Am I too bold in assuming that you’ll consider it? Nothing need be rushed, of course; I think we are overdue to spend time together without some of our own self-imposed formalities in the way, but… you do not seem opposed.”
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Of course she hasn't rejected it. And she knows he isn't really the teasing type. Especially not about something so serious. Her expression turns sympathetic. She shouldn't make too lightly of the situation. She puts her teacup aside and crosses one arm over the other as she leans onto them, eyeing him for several breaths as she considers how to more properly respond.
"I'm not opposed," she begins, choosing her words with care before she continues. "I agree that... it'd be good for us to have some time together that isn't involved with running Viscint or any kind of leadership and guard involved. Just be us." Kisara raises her eyebrows, a mixture of uncertainty and hopefulness seeping into the features of her face and the tresses of blonde that frame it.
"I'm not sure I want to answer you right away." Not so overtly anyway. "Do you think you can wait a little? That's not a no, Dohalim. Just... When I say 'yes,' I want it to be perfect."
When.
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The word doesn't escape him, not for a moment.
Her approach, of course, is a practical one, something he can appreciate. She articulates herself well, and her feelings make sense, perhaps even echo his own if he allows himself more time to think on them. They serve as a reminder that they have time, that there is no need to hurry such things, and his smile softens as he closes his eyes a moment, bowing his head in acquiescence.
"Of course."
As though he could bring himself to deny her anything— but more than that, she is right.
"You do make an excellent point. We could use more time together that is simply our own. Fortunately, time is something we now have." He opens his eyes once more and raises his gaze to meet her own, his expression as patient as it is affectionate. "I will gladly wait as long as you need. It would be good for both of us, I think."
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Kisara is almost certain that some time before she resigned herself to believing that her feelings for him have held no place in their circumstances. That they have been, frankly, inappropriate. But who makes that kind of judgement? Her, she supposes. A fear of what others around them might think. Old habits are hang to break. Even if things have changed, sometimes it requires a little time for the rest of her to catch up to the present.
"I... yes. Yes, I guess we do," she admits with a sheepish smile.
No amount of looking at her teacup will fill it again, so eventually after the momentary tensing of her hand, Kisara settles for simply folding one hand atop the other. Is her posture too straight? Maybe. She wasn't sure what he wanted to talk with her about when he invited her to join him and it's evident that a proposal was not anywhere in that list of potential expectations.
"Maybe we shouldn't... make necessarily a public thing of it?" Her head tips as she eyes Dohalim, her shoulders finally dropping a touch. "I don't know how Viscint might take it. Or her people. Not that I guess we could hide that kind of thing forever. I don't really know what I'm doing here. Can you tell? Because I can tell."
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"It's a first for me, as well," he reminds her, one corner of his mouth quirking upwards, and he shakes his head as he reaches for the teapot between them, gesturing towards her cup with an upturned hand to ask whether she'd like more.
"Perhaps it would be best to keep it between ourselves, for now." Does that mean keeping it from their companions, as well? He doubts any of them would talk, and in some cases, he doesn't think they would be terribly surprised, either, but if Kisara would rather not share, then he can certainly respect that. "It will take us both some time to learn to navigate this, and though I have the utmost faith in the people of our fair city, I realize it may not be so simple."
Some may protest, though he thinks many more would be happy to see the line between Dahnan and Renan entirely erased. The two of them have the opportunity to serve as a shining example of coexistance— but that's not why he asked.
He tucks his chin downwards, his lower lip catching briefly against his teeth, boyish.
"I can't say I would mind keeping you to myself for some time."
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At his agreement, she feels a sense of weight lift from her shoulders. She can understand why, perhaps, the people of Viscint would prefer to see them be open. Given all they've been through, it would be the morale boost that everyone could benefit from. A distraction and a reason to look toward a brighter future. Surely, they will forgive their former lord and his former guard captain for waiting to be so public about their feelings or... wherever those feelings may choose to go.
Marriage, she supposes. That's a weighted word. A little frightening.
"Thank you for understanding," she begins thoughtfully.
Whatever she may consider following up with fades rather quickly as she watches the way he dips his chin. It's a subtle little tip, but she is, admittedly, incredibly charmed by him then and there. She often has been, whether she chooses to admit it or not.
The words that come from him next threaten to knock the wind out of her. For some moments, she's almost certain that they do. "Er. I. Wasn't aware that you thought that you had to worry about something like that."
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Was he worried about it? He hadn’t quite considered it from that angle, but her asking does make him realize that he must have known, at least subconsciously, that whatever they chose to become or to do would likely be made a spectacle of sorts, given their respective positions.
Keeping it to themselves as they learn one another and explore their feelings is sounding better and better, and he is grateful Kisara had suggested it, as he may not have had the foresight to do so.
“We are both likely to garner a great deal of attention when word gets around,” he confesses, though he smiles as he does so, even knowing they might have a small handful of dissenters among all those who would support them. “The former lord and former guard captain– a great many people in this city have affection for the both of us. Considering things from that angle, we may well be grateful for what privacy we can get.”
They deserve as much, as they sort out their feelings now that they’ve finally come to light.
“It had not been my intention to blindside you with any of this, I might add. For all my hours spent reading and writing poetry, I have found my feelings far more difficult to express– or when I have managed to do so, I fear they have been too obscured by poetic imagery.”
Kisara was a woman who was, herself, direct. In that, they were often complete opposites.
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"That's... probably true," she begins, lifting her eyebrows in contemplation. "We're both already well known. We probably won't be able to hide it for long, given how much we're in the public eye. Should enjoy the moments that we don't have to discuss it openly." Not that she's... going to be particularly good at discussing it, anyway. It occurs to her that if someone were to ask her what her feelings were for the former lord, she wouldn't know how to answer it properly.
Love.
Appreciation.
Understanding.
Some of those might be too weighted for her to admit to. Clearing her throat, Kisara shakes her head. "No, no. I—" Jeez. "No. It's fine. Nothing I can't handle. I can definitely confirm for you that there wasn't really anything poetic about what you had to say. I think I appreciate it more like that. Poetry isn't everything. Sometimes..."
Kisara pauses for some moments, taking the time to sip from her teacup just to test the temperature. "...Sometimes you just have to be forward. Sometimes that's the only way to approach a situation."
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