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."
"You have always been far better at that than I. I have always admired that in you." True, Kisara could be reserved when she wanted to, as well, but if there was something she wanted, something she felt needed to be made known, she was always quite clear in expressing herself. It is a trait he has envied at times, for there are countless situations where a more direct approach would have saved all involved a bit of grief— but he is glad he had managed it now, even if he'd had to fumble through it.
He lets his index finger tap thoughtfully against the rim of his teacup before he makes his next offer— if they're to use this time to get to know one another better in this new light, he doesn't see any reason to delay.
"Lovely as tea is, perhaps I could convince you to have dinner with me this evening? Privately. I would ensure that we were left alone." He may no longer be lord, but many of the palace staff are still eager to serve him, along with other appointed officials, and he does not want their prying eyes to cost either of them the comfort of privacy.
"Sometimes in order to get something done, one has to be direct," Kisara responds thoughtfully. "And sometimes it's not that I find it easier. Just that it was my role. To get results, we can't always expect things to be convenient or within our lines of comfort. I guess I got over that pretty quickly."
There weren't many things she wasn't willing to do for him. For his safety. For his dream. Even now, she simply wants to do everything within her power and ability. When it comes to something like that, she doesn't need to think long or hard about it. At least not at this point.
Her attention turns at his extended proposition, finding it just a touch softer than his actual proposal. Dinner. He addresses her initial concern without her even needing to say so. Privacy. It's something she'll value, considering their relationship to one another, which is very likely thought to be more. Probably has been for a while, all things considered. They have often acted very close. A wonder they're only exploring this now.
"I could... do dinner," she finally replies, trying to put aside some of her uncertainty. "I feel like people might still talk, but I guess we can't just always hide that. At least not everything. Dinner is just dinner, after all. No one likes eating alone. Maybe no one will think anything of it." Because it's not as though he's going to make her dinner, which implies someone else will.
...One way or another, it's going to come up. Eventually.
"Regardless of how much care is taken, I am afraid there is no controlling what people may say," he reasons, offering her an apologetic glance. He's heard whispers about them in the past, long before he had ever truly considered taking any sort of action regarding a change in their relationship. It was possible that other people had seen what he had already recognized in himself, or perhaps they simply like to talk. Either way, talk was just that— talk. Until either of them confirmed or denied it, people would have no way of knowing.
"As you say, it is just dinner. Nobody need have any reason to think it is anything more, though the dinner itself won't be able to be entirely secret, or else the kitchen won't be able to do anything for us." He smiles knowingly then, an almost mischievous quality to it. "If anyone asks, we can simply say it is business. Our roles here mean we have a great deal to discuss, even if they have changed since years past."
She is as familiar with the occasional whisper as he has. The notion of the captain of the guard and the lord seemed rather fit for a storybook than reality. At least, Kisara, though she's thought of it in her own time, has never really given it much credence until now. More like unspoken words that were meant to remain unspoken. There's a fine line between duty and desire and she has always been inclined that being trustworthy and someone that Dohalim can rely on is more important than whatever details might fall into that description.
The label has never really mattered much. Dohalim in any capacity is better than no Dohalim at all.
"I don't think they'd ask, actually," she begins thoughtfully, wearing something of a sheepish smile. "You might not be their lord, but as I said before, Elde Menancia still sees you as something like it. It's not fear, but respect." Maybe a little bit of fear, though Kisara's not inclined to say as much. "We'll handle it where we need to. Let's not get anymore ahead of things than that. Dinner might be a big step for us."
After a moment, she continues, "It'll definitely be different than the dinners we had around the campfire. I guess we've had dinner many times before together, though." Not just dinners either. They've both had their moments of privacy with one another. Personal conversations. Moments where they've supported one another. Maybe this moment, this day, this situation was simply fated to come.
Dinner was, potentially, a big step for them, especially given what had preceded the invitation. The offer he had made her may have been tabled for now, but it would likely still be on both their minds. He certainly doesn’t intend to forget it— it would be impossible to do so, just as it had become impossible to ignore the thoughts and feelings that had led him here.
For as much as he had fumbled with this, he would like to think it was still better than many of the business-like offers of marriage he’d heard talked about among other nobles on Lenegis. “I am so at ease with your company, the idea of dinner seems quite normal. We’ve shared countless by now, but… it will be different, yes?” That, he decides, is hardly a bad thing. The difference here would be intent, the shift in dynamic their relationship had seen over the past several months.
“Perhaps it will be more honest than some of those that have come before.”
They have shared many dinners together. The other dinners didn’t involve marriage proposals, however. That makes this particular one already incredibly different. Not unlike Dohalim, Kisara doubts she’ll be able to put it from her mind. There’s a lot to consider. What would Migal think? She wishes she could ask him. Seek his approval, which is silly because at this point, she shouldn’t need that anymore. And she doesn’t.
For all of the closeness she has with Shionne and Rinwell, she doesn’t feel she can go to them either. Lagill seems… probably not a possibility either. Tensions remain between them, though Kisara would still perceive her as a friendly face. Maybe just not friendly enough to discuss marriage proposals with. She may be on her own for this one.
“A little, yes,” Kisara agrees, still smiling in that bashful way. “You don’t think our dinners before were honest?”
Maybe he just means all of the dinners they’ve had where things went unspoken? Positive and negative feelings alike… Perhaps Dohalim has a point.
He bows his head slightly in deference, a boyish smile pulling at his lips, making him appear younger than his years for a moment— a side of him few people ever had the chance to see, but has long given up feeling the need to present himself as stiffly put together around Kisara as he once had.
"Not to say they were intentionally duplicitous, but I imagine we both kept a great deal to ourselves. I certainly kept my own feelings veiled, to an extent— if your surprise at my proposal is anything to go by."
Never mind the fact that there were plenty of other factors that made the proposal itself startling, but the fact remains that he knows he could afford to be more open with his feelings— and he should be. Kisara deserves that and more.
"They were dinners between friends, but I have long seen you as much more than that, Kisara."
How many times has she sat down for a meal with him, keeping many things to herself? Plenty, Kisara thinks. Likely for a multitude of reasons. Never the right time. Never the right situation. The complicated history between them making it a little difficult to be as honest with him as once she had been. Time had softened that somewhat, but there was no doubting that it remained, of all things, not an easy piece of proverbial land to traverse.
She has to wonder if she's ever noticed his feelings for her. She's inclined to think not. If she's ever thought it was possible, then it was likely quickly pushed aside. What business has a Renan lord ever had with a Dahnan? Well, it's what she would have thought before. Even if they're technically the same, Kisara continues to wonder why the interest would be there at all.
Maybe... they've always simply been drawn to one another.
Her smile is, as it has been so much on this particular exchange, sheepish. Perhaps a touch uncertain and wary, though less of him and more of herself.
"I... don't really know what to say," she begins, a small laugh making its way into her voice. "I wasn't exactly expecting this today. Or... ever, actually. I'm not sure there's anything I could have done to be prepared for it. I guess that might not matter so much now, though. Sounds like we have at least one dinner in the future. And it... probably won't be a dinner between friends."
Because of all the things that they are, friends is a bit of an understatement. Maybe for longer than she's been willing to admit or acknowledge. Choosing not to see the truth, however, does not mean truth does not exist.
“I am hoping for far more than just the one, but in the interest of fairness, I will temper my expectations and focus on the one before us,” he responds with a mirthful quirk to his smile, a gentle tease that surfaces only on rare occasions, in the most trusted of company. Many in Viscinct know him to be a serious man, with most more likely to speak of his artistic sensibilities than they are his sense of humor, but even with all that has transpired between them, he finds it easier to be relaxed in Kisara’s presence, to adopt a playfulness that he never would have dared when he was still Lord and felt confined by his role.
“I look forward to it,” he goes on, “But I have long looked forward to the enjoyment of your company. There is no need to worry over what to say— I only hope you will forgive me this dreadful fumble. It would be a shame if it were to spoil our tea— as we both have our share of responsibilities, I feel we are at least due that bit of respite before we return to them.”
He gestures broadly at the table between them with an open palm.
“That said, I am glad to have made a momentary fool of myself if it meant getting such things out in the open. I hope it will give you something to laugh about, as well as consider?”
Matter-of-factly asking someone to marry you over tea was, he realizes in retrospect, rather comical from a certain angle.
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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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"You have always been far better at that than I. I have always admired that in you." True, Kisara could be reserved when she wanted to, as well, but if there was something she wanted, something she felt needed to be made known, she was always quite clear in expressing herself. It is a trait he has envied at times, for there are countless situations where a more direct approach would have saved all involved a bit of grief— but he is glad he had managed it now, even if he'd had to fumble through it.
He lets his index finger tap thoughtfully against the rim of his teacup before he makes his next offer— if they're to use this time to get to know one another better in this new light, he doesn't see any reason to delay.
"Lovely as tea is, perhaps I could convince you to have dinner with me this evening? Privately. I would ensure that we were left alone." He may no longer be lord, but many of the palace staff are still eager to serve him, along with other appointed officials, and he does not want their prying eyes to cost either of them the comfort of privacy.
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There weren't many things she wasn't willing to do for him. For his safety. For his dream. Even now, she simply wants to do everything within her power and ability. When it comes to something like that, she doesn't need to think long or hard about it. At least not at this point.
Her attention turns at his extended proposition, finding it just a touch softer than his actual proposal. Dinner. He addresses her initial concern without her even needing to say so. Privacy. It's something she'll value, considering their relationship to one another, which is very likely thought to be more. Probably has been for a while, all things considered. They have often acted very close. A wonder they're only exploring this now.
"I could... do dinner," she finally replies, trying to put aside some of her uncertainty. "I feel like people might still talk, but I guess we can't just always hide that. At least not everything. Dinner is just dinner, after all. No one likes eating alone. Maybe no one will think anything of it." Because it's not as though he's going to make her dinner, which implies someone else will.
...One way or another, it's going to come up. Eventually.
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"As you say, it is just dinner. Nobody need have any reason to think it is anything more, though the dinner itself won't be able to be entirely secret, or else the kitchen won't be able to do anything for us." He smiles knowingly then, an almost mischievous quality to it. "If anyone asks, we can simply say it is business. Our roles here mean we have a great deal to discuss, even if they have changed since years past."
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The label has never really mattered much. Dohalim in any capacity is better than no Dohalim at all.
"I don't think they'd ask, actually," she begins thoughtfully, wearing something of a sheepish smile. "You might not be their lord, but as I said before, Elde Menancia still sees you as something like it. It's not fear, but respect." Maybe a little bit of fear, though Kisara's not inclined to say as much. "We'll handle it where we need to. Let's not get anymore ahead of things than that. Dinner might be a big step for us."
After a moment, she continues, "It'll definitely be different than the dinners we had around the campfire. I guess we've had dinner many times before together, though." Not just dinners either. They've both had their moments of privacy with one another. Personal conversations. Moments where they've supported one another. Maybe this moment, this day, this situation was simply fated to come.
Eventually.
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Dinner was, potentially, a big step for them, especially given what had preceded the invitation. The offer he had made her may have been tabled for now, but it would likely still be on both their minds. He certainly doesn’t intend to forget it— it would be impossible to do so, just as it had become impossible to ignore the thoughts and feelings that had led him here.
For as much as he had fumbled with this, he would like to think it was still better than many of the business-like offers of marriage he’d heard talked about among other nobles on Lenegis.
“I am so at ease with your company, the idea of dinner seems quite normal. We’ve shared countless by now, but… it will be different, yes?” That, he decides, is hardly a bad thing. The difference here would be intent, the shift in dynamic their relationship had seen over the past several months.
“Perhaps it will be more honest than some of those that have come before.”
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For all of the closeness she has with Shionne and Rinwell, she doesn’t feel she can go to them either. Lagill seems… probably not a possibility either. Tensions remain between them, though Kisara would still perceive her as a friendly face. Maybe just not friendly enough to discuss marriage proposals with. She may be on her own for this one.
“A little, yes,” Kisara agrees, still smiling in that bashful way. “You don’t think our dinners before were honest?”
Maybe he just means all of the dinners they’ve had where things went unspoken? Positive and negative feelings alike… Perhaps Dohalim has a point.
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"Not to say they were intentionally duplicitous, but I imagine we both kept a great deal to ourselves. I certainly kept my own feelings veiled, to an extent— if your surprise at my proposal is anything to go by."
Never mind the fact that there were plenty of other factors that made the proposal itself startling, but the fact remains that he knows he could afford to be more open with his feelings— and he should be. Kisara deserves that and more.
"They were dinners between friends, but I have long seen you as much more than that, Kisara."
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She has to wonder if she's ever noticed his feelings for her. She's inclined to think not. If she's ever thought it was possible, then it was likely quickly pushed aside. What business has a Renan lord ever had with a Dahnan? Well, it's what she would have thought before. Even if they're technically the same, Kisara continues to wonder why the interest would be there at all.
Maybe... they've always simply been drawn to one another.
Her smile is, as it has been so much on this particular exchange, sheepish. Perhaps a touch uncertain and wary, though less of him and more of herself.
"I... don't really know what to say," she begins, a small laugh making its way into her voice. "I wasn't exactly expecting this today. Or... ever, actually. I'm not sure there's anything I could have done to be prepared for it. I guess that might not matter so much now, though. Sounds like we have at least one dinner in the future. And it... probably won't be a dinner between friends."
Because of all the things that they are, friends is a bit of an understatement. Maybe for longer than she's been willing to admit or acknowledge. Choosing not to see the truth, however, does not mean truth does not exist.
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“I look forward to it,” he goes on, “But I have long looked forward to the enjoyment of your company. There is no need to worry over what to say— I only hope you will forgive me this dreadful fumble. It would be a shame if it were to spoil our tea— as we both have our share of responsibilities, I feel we are at least due that bit of respite before we return to them.”
He gestures broadly at the table between them with an open palm.
“That said, I am glad to have made a momentary fool of myself if it meant getting such things out in the open. I hope it will give you something to laugh about, as well as consider?”
Matter-of-factly asking someone to marry you over tea was, he realizes in retrospect, rather comical from a certain angle.
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