The peace that formerly reigned in Terra Nova has eroded, now little more than a memory. War ravages the continent. Disputes divide kingdoms; ideals divide families. The quest for power consumes absolutely and indiscriminately. None are immune to its allure.
Who will rise and who will fall? Only time—and ambition—will tell.
UPDATES
05.26.2023
2 month character creation hold for all existing members begins 6/5/2023. Ended 8/5/2023.
10.29.2023
Change in how times flows. Was 4 IC seasons, now only 2 IC seasons per 1 OOC year.
5 whole years of Heir Apparent goodness! When I started the site, I knew I was hunkering down for the long haul, but I never could have predicted the numerous twists and turns this roleplay site has seen. Hundreds of plots, characters, and members have come and gone, all leaving marks on the site. I am so very thankful for those who have invested. Because you keep coming back, keep getting on, and keep writing, Heir Apparent has the legacy it does today. Three cheers to us!
Warren looked down at her, ready to deter her from the subject. He'd brought it up, but he didn't want her to feel like they had to talk about it. The way she looked up at him though made her difficult to deny. While the topic might be grim in a way, he also didn't want her to think that he wouldn't discuss it with her for any reason. So he smiled despite the bitter-sweet thought, and leaned in to the feeling of her hand against his face.
"His name was Willard. I wanted to name him after my father, William, but he asked me not to. He said he didn't want to hear my mother scolding him into his old age, which was also why they hadn't named me after my father." He smirked, fingers sliding down from her waist to her back, trailing up and down the center. "So my wife chose Willard instead, but then of course we shortened it to Will, which ended up having the same effect. Someone would call their name, and they would both turn and throw their hands up. 'Which Will?' It irritated them, but the rest of us found it endlessly entertaining."
Post by Regan Lassiter on Jun 2, 2023 7:45:37 GMT -5
A little sound of satisfaction rumbled in Regan’s throat as Warren’s fingers slid up her back. She listened, all the while slowly brushing her thumb across his cheek. Regan thought about the boy in the painting and the hauntingly beautiful woman that stood behind him. She tried to bring them to life but her imagination fell short. The portrait remained like a tomb that housed memories she couldn’t unlock.
But there was one figure that she’d conjured up: Warren the husband and father, not with his stern face but with his broad grin and playful smirk. Regan sat with the vision for a moment before she pressed another kiss to his lips.
“Your wife was right,” Regan said, nose brushing against his, “Willard’s a good name.” She had so many other questions but didn’t want to push Warren too far on the subject, and, in doing so, push him away.
Warren's eyes remained on her, enamored but searching for and expecting her to pull away at any time. Instead she kept close. She complimented not him, but his wife and his son. "Yeah," he agreed. "It is a good name." And his wife had always been right. He hadn't realized that until it was far too late, but Regan seemed to have no problem acknowledging it. Some people might have asked him not to speak of them so much, and even a little felt like a lot when he hadn't spoken of them at all in years. It was a relief he hadn't known he needed. Not the sex, maybe not even any kind of commitment, but the acknowledgement and acceptance of his family, as they had been.
His hand slid up her back and into her hair, resting there as he kissed her lips, then her jaw, and her neck. He rested there for a moment, lips tracing the line of her shoulder. "Thank you for asking," he spoke quietly, not quite a whisper but not in his normal tone. "I don't get to talk about them anymore. It means more to me than you know."
Post by Regan Lassiter on Jun 3, 2023 13:26:02 GMT -5
A momentary twinge of anxiety tightened in Regan’s chest. Fear, because it felt so good, like a dream that couldn’t last but you didn’t want to wake from. But once again she smothered the feeling and sank into the fantasy instead. The intimacy was too novel, too enticing to deny. Regan wanted to know it all; all of his secrets, his every thought, every feeling, with the same hunger that had driven her here in the first place.
Regan’s breath quickened as Warren kissed down her neck. The needy fire was reigniting all over again. “I want to know,” Regan whispered, “Everything.” She ran her fingers through his hair before drawing him back up to kiss him deeply.
His hands drew back up to her face as she kissed him and he returned it, though he was also the first to break it, too. When he pulled away, his thumb moved sideways across the scars on her cheek. "I'll tell you anything you want to know," he replied, though suddenly he felt hesitant. Not hesitant to give her whatever she wanted, because that he would do regardless. He would answer any question, fulfill any task he could for her, but he still needed to understand. Because he still didn't understand, and he hadn't wanted to ask and have her leave. Anything to keep her from leaving, at least on this night.
"But will you tell me everything, in return? Can I ask that of you, too?" His finger moved down to graze her lips. "I'm not going to lie and say this isn't new for me. I'll be here for you regardless, no matter what you decide. But when you do decide, I need to know where we stand when it's not just us, here."
Post by Regan Lassiter on Jun 3, 2023 17:41:19 GMT -5
Beneath all the flames and claws and teeth, Regan was still a wide-eyed stray who’d too long been begging for scraps. Though wary, when extended an affectionate hand she leaned into it with the desperation of one who knew what it was to go without. Now, with the fantasy of him—of them—so close and unchallenged, she wanted to say yes without hesitation. But…
Regan realized that she’d been here before. She’d felt safe and wanted in someone’s arms only to have the feeling snatched away. It had hurt—it hurt still—and that pain surfaced like the faint flicker of a flame in Regan’s eyes.
After a moment, Regan nodded silently, lips parted as Warren’s finger ran across them.
His head tilted, eyes meeting hers and noting the change, the silence. He had promised himself long ago that he would never leave others to notice things he had missed. It was the fastest way to losing the person you cared for most, one way or another. He wasn't sure he could stomach another failure like that. "Hey," he took her face in both hands, pushing her hair back as gently as he could with rough, calloused fingers. "It's not an ultimatum. I'm here. I'm not going to change my mind if you decide you can't be something you think I need."
He pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. "I want you here with me, but I can see that it's not that easy for you and that's okay. I promise, I'll be here. If I have to keep reminding you of that, I will. But...I am old, so just, you know," he smiled, fingers still playing in her hair. "I don't know the lifespan of female werewolves that can ignite themselves, but I'm assuming it's longer than mine, so keep that in mind."
Post by Regan Lassiter on Jun 6, 2023 12:22:32 GMT -5
The closeness was intoxicating. Regan’s eyes were still wide as she became increasingly malleable in his hands. The way he brushed her hair aside, the way pulled her close—all of it fed a hunger Regan hadn’t even realized existed. The promise was the kicker for she believed him.
At Warren’s admission that he was “old”, a sideways grin broke across Regan’s features. She almost made a joke about how she’d had older, but decided that would invite questions she didn’t want to answer. “So you were serious, then?” She asked, burying an earnest question beneath a tease, “Tea with your mother? Courting and marriage? Birthing heirs to inherit your name and estate?” She ran a finger down the bridge of his nose and over his lips, “I’m afraid I wouldn’t make much of a lady of the house.”
Her questions had Warren doing something he rarely did: blushing. Embarrassment took over and he averted his eyes, faint nervous laughter escaping his lips unintentionally as he pulled one of his hands away temporarily to rub at the side of his face and scratch the stubble there. "Well, I was serious," he said, clearing his throat. "And joking. To be honest, I didn't know how to react that night. You really caught me off guard.”
His hand left his own face and returned to resting on her, sliding down her back again. “If that was something you wanted, I would be happy to arrange it. I’ll take you to all of the social events,” he kissed her. “You can pretend to laugh at all the terrible jokes the nobles make.” He kissed her again. “We can throw an engagement party, and another for after our walk in the black sand.” Another kiss. “Then spend a few days locked away in here, just us.” He kissed her again, smirking. “But I would never expect that of you, or demand it of you, if it wasn’t what you wanted. I have an heir. Declan, my youngest sister’s second son. He’ll take over all of this when I die.” He said, eyes glancing around the darkened room. “He might not be a Woodwick in name, but he is in blood. That’s enough. I’ve come to accept it all fairly recently, so all I’m concerned with is your happiness.”
Post by Regan Lassiter on Jun 7, 2023 19:08:12 GMT -5
The color that rose to Warren’s cheeks was a small, guilty victory. Like a skittish creature being coaxed into captivity, with each sweet morsel of affection she drew closer. Each confirmation that Warren was what he advertised himself to be. Regan was willing to suspend the reality of her circumstances and instead indulge in the vision that Warren offered her. A toothy smile exploded across Regan’s features with bright satisfaction.
With each kiss, which Regan leaned into greedily, the picture he painted grew clearer. At first, the vision was sweet, but the cold dread of her guilt started to crawl from her stomach up into her chest. It was so beautiful, so perfectly beautiful that Regan wanted to sink into it…but she hesitated.
Regan gazed at him before leaning in to kiss him again.
He nodded, leaning in to the kiss, making it last a little bit longer than the previous ones. "Then there's nothing to worry about, is there?" The question was a more rhetorical one than a real one and he was relieved that she had left it at that. He knew that she didn't really want all of those things, and he didn't want her to feel like she had to lie to him or pretend she was something she was not. Even if he wanted more, even if he wanted at least some of those things, he would never think to make that her problem. He was sure it would never be that simple.
"Here, sit up for a moment," he said after a few seconds had passed, and pushed himself up in the bed, pulling her along with him. He tugged the top sheet and blanket out from under them and rolled the heavier blanket down by the foot of the bed. Between the fire, and Regan, it was warm enough in the room. The top sheet he pulled up and over them, and then slid down in the bed, opening his arms for her once more. "We've got plenty of time to talk about everything. Let's get some sleep for now."
Post by Regan Lassiter on Jun 11, 2023 13:43:58 GMT -5
Regan wouldn’t be the one to break the kiss. Heat surged through her fingers, just enough for the warmth to sink into where they rested against Warren’s cheek and side. When they parted, her cheeks were flushed again, but the unmistakable pull of exhaustion had started to make her eyelids heavy. She moved as he guided her to, letting him roll down the blanket before she curled against him with her head resting on his chest. Regan wiggled a little closer with a happy little hum.
Sleep immediately started to coax her away. She’d sink into him, breath relaxing into a slow steady rhythm. “I could get used to this…” Regan mumbled, partially to herself, partially to Warren who would be able to hear. Before long, she’d be asleep—sleeping more deeply than she had in months.
As Regan wriggled closer to him, he wrapped his arm around her and leaned down, planting a kiss on the top of her head. He rubbed her back as her eyes closed, and felt the surge of warmth that spawned not from the heat of her skin but the suggestion of her words. There was a time when he had gotten too used to this feeling, and in it's normalcy he had taken it for granted. Now he didn't dare let himself do it again. Even if it was what she wanted, and what she thought made her happy, even if she wanted to get used to it, Warren wasn't sure she would let that happen. She still felt hesitant, unsure, and that was okay. It was her choice, and she couldn't help how she felt.
He would be there for her, just as he had promised. But he wouldn't get used to it just yet.
He remained awake for a little while longer after she'd dozed off, but eventually sleep consumed him as well.
[ END THREAD ]
Last Edit: Jun 11, 2023 20:53:44 GMT -5 by Deleted