"You speak so poetically. You're going to have to write me letters," Herbert declares, pressing his hand more firmly against Solin's back. "Every day, sheets and sheets, telling me how pretty I am. And I will save them all and read them over and over again until the pages fall apart.
Will you let me visit you? You must. I'm going to, you don't have a choice."
"Oh, well, I shall have to make time between feeding the sheep and spinning for that." Herbert is - excitable, quick. Solin finds it endearing rather than pushy, laughing breathlessly like he's being swept out with the tide.
His thumbs rub a little at Herbert's waist where they find a place to rest. A nervous little motion, a fidget.
"Of course you can visit - whenever you like. It - it's not much, nothing like all this. Just a farm and a cabin...but if you don't mind sheep, you are more than welcome."
"I don't mind!" he assures Solin quickly. "I'd love to meet your sheep. I would love to see you spin. I don't know any of these things. All I know is books. Books are -- solitary.
I want to learn more about the world. I want to learn about you." He laughs, light and nervous. "Teach me witchcraft."
That touches the young farmer - the word solitary. He's getting the picture. Herbert is...lonely. Just like him. The nervous laugh, the jabbering, the way he's holding on.
Biting his lip for a moment, he reaches up, cupping the other man's cheek gently in his hand. "I would...like to learn more about you, too, Herbert. I really would." A little pause, and a wry little smile. "I'm not technically a witch, though, if I'm honest. I...I can teach you some herbalism, though. So I guess I do know some potions."
He's a little flushed with excitement - normally, he's a slow moving, patient person, but...oh, he really was just a moment from asking this boy to come home with him tonight.
Herbert leans his cheek into the touch, unable to keep the smile from his face. Solin's hands are rough, compared to Herbert's soft, well manicured hands. But he likes the way they feel against his skin. "I think I could happily listen to you teach me about anything -- everything. There's only so much you can learn from reading."
Herbert is flustered as well. Impatient to know more about this beautiful boy in his arms. To see his cottage and farm and sheep. To see how he makes those beautiful scarves.
"Would you like to find some place to sit and talk?"
"Then let's. As enjoyable as I find dancing with you, of course. And I truly do. We'll have to dance again, sometime. But if you come out into the hallway with me, there's an alcove not too far away, with a bench we could sit on. I'll even get us another drink, if you want one."
"Oh!" Hebert laughs, loud and light and bright. Absolutely delighted at the joke. He presses a quick kiss to Solin's cheek, blushing at the boldness of the move.
Bolder still, he slides his fingers down Solin's arm to take his hand. "You are quite the charmer. I'm thoroughly charmed."
Solin's heart skips a beat at that little kiss - the line had been more than worth the self-embarrassment if that was the result. He grasps back at the hand that slides down to take his, grin a little bit dopey.
"I'm not usually," he admits, laughing softly. "We shepherds aren't known for our social graces. The only living things I've ever swept off their feet have been lambs and ewes."
"I bet you look completely adorable, holding a lamb. Like a French pastoral painting, with the sunlight in your curls." He leads Solin to the hallway outside the Grand Ballroom, where there is indeed an alcove with a bench.
He sits, and leaves enough room for Solin to sit with him. "Have you always lived in the village?"
Still blushing at the kind words, he breathes a little sigh of relief as he is ushered out of the crowded, noisy ballroom - but still when gestured to sit, he does so rather close, like he can't bear to get too far away from Herbert.
And maybe he can't. He's utterly taken, watching the other man with rapt attention.
"I have, yes. The farm got started by my grandfather, but - well, I'm all that's left, now. It's a lot of work, and I'm not...very social, but I like it."
"It's the same with me, actually. The castle has been in the family for almost four hundred years now. Our family has always lived here and I'll likely continue living here. With whomever I settle down with, and our children, and so on."
Herbert tangles their fingers together, holding their clasped hands in his lap with a faint smile, rubbing his thumb over Solin's hand. "We don't farm, but father does garden -- flowers -- and I like helping there. Mother has a small garden of her own, with some vegetables. I always always covered in dirt, as a young child."
"Four hundred years...that's amazing. It's a beautiful castle. This is...the first time I've worked up the nerve to come to one of your parties. I was feeling a little out of place, actually, before you came up to talk to me."
Briefly, Solin looks down at where their hands are wound together. It feels like a perfect fit. His chest feels...warm, and there's a glow to his smile when he looks back up to listen.
"I can imagine you gardening - now, and as a little boy. You must have been awfully adorable, running around in the mud. I'm...all right at growing, but I'm better with the animals. And I've been weaving and spinning since before I could walk."
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Will you let me visit you? You must. I'm going to, you don't have a choice."
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His thumbs rub a little at Herbert's waist where they find a place to rest. A nervous little motion, a fidget.
"Of course you can visit - whenever you like. It - it's not much, nothing like all this. Just a farm and a cabin...but if you don't mind sheep, you are more than welcome."
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I want to learn more about the world. I want to learn about you." He laughs, light and nervous. "Teach me witchcraft."
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Biting his lip for a moment, he reaches up, cupping the other man's cheek gently in his hand. "I would...like to learn more about you, too, Herbert. I really would." A little pause, and a wry little smile. "I'm not technically a witch, though, if I'm honest. I...I can teach you some herbalism, though. So I guess I do know some potions."
He's a little flushed with excitement - normally, he's a slow moving, patient person, but...oh, he really was just a moment from asking this boy to come home with him tonight.
In time, Solin. In time. Don't scare him off.
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Herbert is flustered as well. Impatient to know more about this beautiful boy in his arms. To see his cottage and farm and sheep. To see how he makes those beautiful scarves.
"Would you like to find some place to sit and talk?"
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He feels - he feels something, here. He feels something and he doesn't want whatever it is to stop.
"Yes!" The word is blurted out, and he laughs at himself, at his eagerness.."I mean - of course, yes, I would...I would love to."
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But he laughs, not pulling away, but ready to follow.
"That sounds wonderful. Lead the way. I - I only had the couple sips of wine you saw me drink, though. I I am fine without. Your...." Oh, should he?
Eh, why not?
"Your company is intoxicating enough."
Nailed it.
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Bolder still, he slides his fingers down Solin's arm to take his hand. "You are quite the charmer. I'm thoroughly charmed."
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"I'm not usually," he admits, laughing softly. "We shepherds aren't known for our social graces. The only living things I've ever swept off their feet have been lambs and ewes."
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He sits, and leaves enough room for Solin to sit with him. "Have you always lived in the village?"
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Still blushing at the kind words, he breathes a little sigh of relief as he is ushered out of the crowded, noisy ballroom - but still when gestured to sit, he does so rather close, like he can't bear to get too far away from Herbert.
And maybe he can't. He's utterly taken, watching the other man with rapt attention.
"I have, yes. The farm got started by my grandfather, but - well, I'm all that's left, now. It's a lot of work, and I'm not...very social, but I like it."
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Herbert tangles their fingers together, holding their clasped hands in his lap with a faint smile, rubbing his thumb over Solin's hand. "We don't farm, but father does garden -- flowers -- and I like helping there. Mother has a small garden of her own, with some vegetables. I always always covered in dirt, as a young child."
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Briefly, Solin looks down at where their hands are wound together. It feels like a perfect fit. His chest feels...warm, and there's a glow to his smile when he looks back up to listen.
"I can imagine you gardening - now, and as a little boy. You must have been awfully adorable, running around in the mud. I'm...all right at growing, but I'm better with the animals. And I've been weaving and spinning since before I could walk."