Thread: A Discussion of Theology (SnowGlassRoses)

He smelled her first before he saw her, that lovely scent only women were capable of, somewhere between flowers and Heaven. That brought a smile to the edges of Aramis' lips and calmed him some, some, finding it ever difficult to be firm with her. Still, he knew he must. He listened to the soft sounds of his daughter entering the room and, he suspected from the sound and the manners she'd been taught, curtseying in respect before she sat at his knee. That said something there, addressing his suspicions, in that Yvette did not own up to any guilt right away. The kiss to his cheek and nuzzle along his jaw encouraged that slight smile to develop more fully, Aramis leaning in to the affectionate rub, his left hand snaking around his daughter's waist to rest around the small of her back, on her opposite hip. Excuse me, he broke the silent, warm nuzzle with a question, but is this how you greet your father, Yvette? On the cheek? Since when? Such would not do. The musketeer's free hand - retiring from such a role made little difference in a man's spirit - reached to gingerly caress the teen's cheek, in an affectionate manner like she nuzzled his own. He guided Yvette's chin to a tilt as he himself leaned in to kiss, firm, sure lips pressing to the sweet young maiden's. There was no shyness in how he kissed his daughter. Out in the open perhaps, in front of her uncles or about town, or anyone who knew of their relation, if only because they would not understand. Such affection was not wrong, as love could never be - this had been as much Yvette's own feelings as they had his, she needing little convincing toward such affection with her father. It had been she that began them originally, in truth. Aramis kissed her again, slow, savoring those sweet, supple lips her maker had gifted her with, and gifted he with in turn. His fingers caressed her hip through the several layers of fabric as they kissed, parting lips between every third or fourth for the briefest of nuzzles before finding one another again. The silence in the room continued for another minute, reminding someone that they are loved taking constant precedence over all else. I missed you too much, my dear, he began, finally breaking what between them was a proper greeting. He breathed soft, warm breath against her face just because they were talking did not automatically mean they must be a distance away. You have been especially good lately, working hard around our home, behaving yourself like a lady should. I notice these things. He couldn't help but smile with that. Aramis' fingers trailed the short distance from her soft cheek to a loose, curly hair, stroking it affectionately a favorite toy. I wanted to do something special for you as a reward, for all good girls deserve something nice once in awhile, don't you think? I could not wait to be home with you, to spend a little extra time together before your uncles arrive. As I rode home early I fancied a thought of enjoying a cup, perhaps two of the spiced cider left over from the other evening while my songbird sings to me as she cooks. More idle playing with her curls. Aramis tucked the one back behind her ear and moved on to another, an affectionate task, and as curls were often wont to do, with her slightest movement it bounced amusingly back to its loose place. You had me worried when I first arrived home. I called everywhere and you were not here, nor was your coat. Where did you go, sweetheart? I was about to take to horse again to look when I spotted you returning home. ...Were you all by yourself?