The floor of the treehouse is nestled, carefully placed in the break in between a twin-tree trunk about ten feet off the ground. The panel in the center of the wood paneled floor opens to allow a rope to drop down, to give access to those welcome.
The house itself is sturdily built, mainly of pine panels. One wall is left mostly open, covered in a metal wire mosquito-screen. This makeshift window faces the lake, westward.
By itself, the place is scarcely furnished. A bedroll in the corner carries a work pillow, though a rolled-up sleeping bag is available for others. A clay pot in the opposite corner, by the window, smells of woodsmoke and coal, so it's obviously a firepot. A small frying pan leans against it, the bottom blackened by multiple uses.
Did someone call for 'tall, dark, and handsome'? Well, dark's fairly well covered, at least. Jet-black hair's pulled into a long, loose tail at the nape of his neck, a few stray strands about the face occasionally drifting into his almost equally dark eyes, the irises of which are a brown deep enough that one needs to look closely to find the pupil. Nut-brown skin that sets off the white of his teeth and eyes -- it could just barely be mistaken for a very deep tan, if one really tried. Tall is a miss; he's still several inches off six feet, and he probably won't ever get there. Handsome... well, not a classic beauty, to be sure, but well-proportioned, with a stunning, frequent grin and deeply expressive features. Slim, but in perfectly good shape.
He's clad in... well, black leather pants. Somewhat faded, well broken in, but nicely cut and really =quite= nicely fitted. A simple cream shirt hangs untucked above them, long sleeved and fastened with a row of small, black stone buttons. Over that, he wears a decidedly well-worn old black trenchcoat, almost too big for him -- the cuffs hang down half-over his hands, when he lets them, and the hem hangs perilously close to his heels. Scuffed black leather boots with worn soles adorn his feet; there's a seemingly random collection of bracelets, all on one wrist, and several piercings along the upper section of each ear -- little silver hoops.
She's a young thing, looking to be in her late teens or early twenties. Not terribly imposing, she stands at about an average height for a woman with a build that's a few meals shy of healthy. Golden-toned skin hints at Latina heritage, a notion reinforced by her sleek, straight black hair, which has been bound into twin braids, each tied off with a length of powder blue ribbon fashioned into a bow. Several strands have fallen free to frame a pretty face with delicate bone structure and soft features. Dark eyes glitter behind the errant locks of her hair, bright and intelligent.
The dress she wears is a little loose on her, but she fills it out well enough to give her a distinctly feminine figure. Like the ribbons in her hair, the dress is powder blue, printed with tiny flowers in white and green. The cut is simple, a scooped neck with short poofy sleeves and a voluminous calf-length skirt. To keep warm, she wears a long coat over the dress, woolen and brown, with broad fleecy cuffs and more fleece lining along the lapel. Over a pair of somewhat faded white stockings, she wears somewhat battered leather boots embroidered on the sides with colorful flowers.
Around her neck, on a leather thong, is a pendant made from what looks to be a piece of glass taken from a chandelier, a faceted teardrop that catches ambient light and reflects it back in prismatic sparkles. She also wears a silver charm bracelet on one wrist and a mismatched pair of silvery clip-on earrings.
It's not quite midnight, but the treehouse is dark, lit only by the sputtering of a candle on its last bit of wick. In the dim light, one can see that some tidying has been done, nests arranged neatly and laundry stacked to the sides, leaving as much floor space as possible bare. It's quiet. The wind rustles through the branches, and Aurelia has already retired for the night. The dim firelight plays upon her golden skin, the curve of her arms folded upon her chest, the sleek gleam of her loose hair. She only had a flimsy blanket draped over her, and her small hands are folded over something hidden beneath the scant cover.
Serendipity hesitates as he slips in the hatch, noticing the quiet, and closes it gently behind him, going into 'unobtrusive sneak' mode. He brushes Aurelia's hair away from her face, watching her sleep for a minute or two before he plants a soft kiss on her forehead, and draws over a heavier blanket to add to her covers in the early Bud chill.
Watching for a moment or two, one might notice that her breath is very shallow, slow. It might take a moment to register she's breathing at all. Covering her might be a good idea. Her brow is so cold against Ren's lips. As the heavier blanket is drawn over her, whatever she has in her hands rustles, but she otherwise doesn't move.
Serendipity hesitates, staying beside her, making sure that she =is= breathing, and regularly, if not deeply. "...Rae?" he asks quietly, leaning in a bit, though sleeping normally or not, she's unlikely to answer. He shifts the blankets to check what's in her hands, and keeps watching. He actually looks a little worried.
Aurelia's hands clasp a somewhat battered looking bunch of herbs bound in twine that looks hand woven, with faded colors making patterns that are difficult to discern in the dim light and flickering shadows. She doesn't respond, but she does seem to be breathing, if barely. Her body is slack, relaxed. Even the grasp on the herb stalk is weak, a product of gravity more than intent.
Serendipity has seen that bundle of herbs before; he reaches out to touch it, but changes his mind, and just pulls the blankets over her again. He slips out of his boots and clothing and into his down nest of blankets and pillows, but sits up instead of lying down, edging over very close to the corax and watching her silently for a while, making sure there's still at least that gentle movement from her breath.
There is, and it seems to last for awhile. The candle sputters and goes out, but the darkness isn't that much more for the eyes to adjust to than what the candle provided in the first place. How long she lays like that, like a limp rag doll, barely moving, seems a long time. There's just the rustling of the trees, the lapping of the lake where it's melted. Then, without ado, her eyes open, and her breath catches.
Serendipity starts, having been lulled into a near trance, mesmerized by the rhythmic sounds and breathing for so long. "Rae?" he asks again, soft and concerned, his voice oddly loud in the room even at the near-murmur it is.
Aurelia doesn't move save for her eyes, which dart to Ren and fix there, wide and staring, dilated in the darkness so that pupil and iris are indistinct from each other. Her body, tense with the drawn breath, relaxes slowly as she exhales shakily. For a moment, there is nothing of recognition in her eyes, merely the assessment of a threat. The stalk she holds is held tightly, and then her fingers relax, and she finds her voice, hoarse as it is. "Ren? S'that you?"
"Yeah." Ren leans forward, reaching out to gently brush hair that isn't really there from her face, checking for the heat of her skin. "...'s me. You a'ight, beautiful? Feelin' okay?"
Aurelia starts shivering, and she tries to sit up, but she doesn't seem to have the strength, and she falls back amidst the blankets weakly. The stalk rolls away from her hands, tangling in the blankets, and she reaches for Ren, touching his face with her fingertips -- icy, but her breath comes more quickly, and heat is bound to return to her. "I'm back," she whispers, sounding a little more surprised than is perhaps a good thing. "I'm back. You're okay? We're okay? Are we home, Renny? Are we at home?"
Serendipity slides his arms around the girl and pulls her firmly into his lap, wrapping several of the blankets close and warm about them. His brow is furrowed with concern, but it doesn't make it into his voice, which stays at a soothing murmur. "Mmhmm. We're at home, baby. Everything's okay. You're here, I'm here, here's here, everything's good," he assures her, trying not to shiver at how cold she is.
Aurelia slips her arms around him and nestles in close, shamelessly thieving body heat. She's only wearing a simple cotton shift, which is hardly protection enough against the cold of early Budding, let alone whatever else she's been up to. "There were so many of them," she whispers. "The roads got all tangled. I couldn't find my way back."
Serendipity does not complain, holding her tighter and closer. "But you're here now, home where you're s'posta be 'n' all," he replies, nuzzling against her hair. "...an' you're breathin' properly 'n' everything. So many of what?"
Aurelia sighs softly, relaxing and getting comfortable in the best heat-stealing position she can manage, which ends up with most of her in Ren's lap. "Course I'm breathin'," she laughs, her breath warm against his throat. "Mercy, there were just... malandanti. The bad guys. I went a ways out to find 'em. Got all turned around."
Ren's lap makes a concerted effort not to be overly pleased to have her there, chill and all. "You were all cold 'n' breathin' shallow," Ren informs her, "...wasn't quite sure if I oughta be worried 'bout it. So y'found 'em -- didja get 'em?"
Aurelia seems oblivious to the level of Ren's lap's glee -- this could be either a good thing or a bad thing. He has warmth, and she wants it. Her hands sneak under his shirt, seeking bare skin with the single-minded purpose of leeching its heat. At least she seems to be warming up some, the energy isn't just sinking into her and disappearing. "I was in deep," she says quietly, as if that should make all the sense in the world. "I got some, but a lot of 'em got me before I got away."
Bare skin they find -- warm bare skin, just the thing for leeching heat, indeed. Serendipity tenses a little at the icy touch; he doesn't pull away, but he does only mostly suppress a small whimper. "...got you how? You're okay, yeah? You look okay..."
Aurelia doesn't seem nearly sympathetic enough to Ren's plight. Apparently, in her opinion, he can take it like a man, and she nestles on in. "Oh, I'll be okay," she mumbles glumly. "Just need a few days to rest up, then I'm gonna go back and kick their asses."
"C'n I help?" Ren offers, shifting slightly where he sits, beneath her, "Take me with you or somethin', I'll watch your back." He presses his chest in against her freezing hands, and nuzzles into her hair again, inhaling and then giving it a kiss, and another.
Aurelia smiles fondly, closing her eyes as she rests her head against his chest. "Mmm, yer sweet," she says drowsily. "But it don't work like that, sugar. They just surprised me. I got stupid and fell for an ambush. S'my own damned fault." Her voice grows thicker as warmth and safety cause the initial shock of waking to subside.
Serendipity kisses down beside her ear, eyes half-closed. "Next time, you gonna ambush them instead? Gotta be somethin' I c'n do t' help, can't be lettin' my girl get inta battles all alone..." He kisses under the join of her jaw, and down along her neck, drowsily affectionate.
Aurelia murmurs a quiet sound that, indistinct as it is, doesn't sound like a complaint, and she nuzzles her cheek against Ren's hair before planting a kiss on his jaw. "Silly," she chides. "Gotta leave the ass-kickin' to the professionals." Says the woman small enough to fit neatly in his lap. Yeah, she's fierce. "You can warm me up though, any time you like."
"Mmm, yeah?" Ren asks, grinning, and wraps his arms more soundly about her, fitting her even more neatly into said lap. "I can do =that=, at least. Figure I'm pretty decent at that," he muses teasingly, and kisses her neck again, chastely, then rather less so, introducing tongue and teeth and a good dose of suckling into the mix, though in no hurry. "...you gonna protect me, professional?" he murmurs lazily against her skin.
Aurelia shivers briefly, in a way that has nothing to do with being cold. A poke in the ribs tells Ren that, whether he's actually misbehaving or not, she's on to him. "That's what I do," she murmurs amidst a quiet sigh. "Savin' rascals in distress."
"Lucky me," Ren virtually purrs, dissuaded not at all by the rib-poke, and then grins again, wickedly, releasing her neck just long enough to pluck at her shift and declare, "...feel even luckier if I got t' be a rascal in =dis= dress, y'know."
Aurelia jabs his ribs again, but not very hard, and she laughs as she says, "You're impossible. And I had the night from hell, so don't you even think about it." Not that she moves away or tries to rescue the shift. "If you're good," she offers consolingly, "I'll let you share the bed with me."
Serendipity pouts a little, playfully, and nibbles at her neck some more. "I c'n be better'n good if you let me," he counters, and seeks out the spots that seem to draw the most rewarding shivers. One hand finds a knee and slides its way slowly up her leg and under the shift, though it's well-behaved enough to stay to the outside, up along her hip to rest in the crook of her waist. Lucky for her, his hands are much warmer than hers were.
Aurelia puts up with this just a beat longer than anyone who knows her would think she would. Much longer than she has to date, but then, being Aurelia, she bites Ren firmly on the shoulder and slaps his hand away before sliding off his lap and into the blankets. "On the off chance that we ever make sweet passionate love," she says, her voice dripping only a little with sarcasm, "I'd rather it be on a night I'm not so tired I won't remember it."
Serendipity winces a little at the bite, and gives Aurelia a wounded look as she pulls away. "I guarantee you'd remember it anyway," he retorts as he shifts to snuggle down beside her all the same, "...and you're a cruel, cruel woman. Why're you so mean t' me, beautiful?"
Aurelia curls up to Ren, nesting her head on his shoulder and draping an arm over his chest as she gets comfy. "Because I'm a bad person," she replies in a sleepy, content tone. "And because I don't want no babies, but I ain't got any of the right herbs."
Serendipity wraps an arm about her in turn and pulls the blankets up around them, for the additional heat. "Which kinda herbs're th' right ones, then?" he asks, tilting his head to lean against the top of hers. "I'll find 'em for ya. ....Evil wench," he adds, fondly.
Aurelia laughs softly, the sound tapering of in a content sigh. "I'll send you out in the mornin' with a list," she warns. "I reckon the way you carry on, you probably oughtta know about 'em anyway."
"Knowledge never hurts," Ren agrees solemnly, then takes Aurelia's hand from his chest and brings it to his mouth, covering it with hungry little kisses, and a few licks and nuzzles for good measure before he puts it back where he found it. "...y'know not everything's got a chance of ending in kids anyway, yeah?"
Aurelia doesn't protest this, and in fact toys with a lock of Ren's hair rather than drawing her hand away when he's done with the nuzzling. Once her hand comes to rest upon his chest again, her eyes drift closed, and she sighs, such a long-suffering thing. "Yeah, I know. Heard sailors talkin' about it plenty. I... ain't sayin' never."
Serendipity considers this a moment. "I think sailors are a bad influence," he remarks, then, as if he himself were above reproach, and cuddles her in closer to him, with a reasonably content little sigh of his own. "...like you a lot, beautiful," he murmurs almost sheepishly, after a definite pause.
Aurelia agrees drowsily, "Definitely not a good one." Then she's quiet a bit, her breathing evening out. Wrapped in warmth, with the sound of Ren's heartbeat echoing in her ear, she seems to be drifting off. Not before she manages a quiet, "Like you an awful lot too, sugar."