She wasn't sure what was happening-- for a time she could only watch the emotion her father dared to show. The anger of his grip and tense line of his shoulders to the sadness, almost resigned look, that followed. She didn't know what they were saying, but she never liked seeing him so defeated. She had always tried to take care of him, more so now than before, but she was learning every day. Even back before when all she could do was feed the fire and pack the bags. She always wanted to be good, always wanted him to be happy.
It didn't seem like he was, now.
"Uhm..." She was, despite all the honey on her tongue and tingles along her skin, tempted to refuse. But when her father got closer she closed her mouth; as if knowing she was missing something, even if she didn't know what it was. Refusal could be trouble. Was it within her rights? Would they turn on them? The thought worried her because she knew nothing about Fae, but she didn't want to cause trouble for her father.
So she leaned forward a bit-- as much as she could get with those hands skimming her, threatening to touch her sensitive bits in ways that made her squirm and tried to focus on him. Soft hands tugging lightly at his belt, struggling a bit because of the weight that relied on it-- bags, items, sword-- but eventually unfastening it. Then pulling the laces of his breeches open, prying them apart a little at a time, focused gaze directed entirely at him till she could get them open. The front sliding down just a bit, making Laele flush a little, looking up at Richard, unsure, as if asking him for guidance.
no subject
It didn't seem like he was, now.
"Uhm..." She was, despite all the honey on her tongue and tingles along her skin, tempted to refuse. But when her father got closer she closed her mouth; as if knowing she was missing something, even if she didn't know what it was. Refusal could be trouble. Was it within her rights? Would they turn on them? The thought worried her because she knew nothing about Fae, but she didn't want to cause trouble for her father.
So she leaned forward a bit-- as much as she could get with those hands skimming her, threatening to touch her sensitive bits in ways that made her squirm and tried to focus on him. Soft hands tugging lightly at his belt, struggling a bit because of the weight that relied on it-- bags, items, sword-- but eventually unfastening it. Then pulling the laces of his breeches open, prying them apart a little at a time, focused gaze directed entirely at him till she could get them open. The front sliding down just a bit, making Laele flush a little, looking up at Richard, unsure, as if asking him for guidance.