Cortège of Coincidence [Gabriella]

Happy that everything was working out alright, gabriella waited patiently for him to finish serving her, wondering how he expected her to eat all the food that had been put in front of her. Even before the fire, before that one particular night at the cottage, the two of them had been very different people, set in their ways and engrossed in their own worlds. She rather suspected that there would always be little missteps with each other, where they didn’t match up to certain expectations and had to find a way around something. But at least they were looking, and talking now, rather then retreating. That for her, was the biggest win over the past few weeks. She picked up her fork and knife carefully, cutting her own food into smaller pieces, smiling a little in amusement as he managed to fit an entire thin slice into his mouth.

The witch perked up instantly as he started in on the subject, and then pouted a little, knowing he was teasing her, more amused then disappointed. “Well it's only fair. I’ve let you see what i’ve been writing.” she teased back, the pout replaced with a slight wry smile as she ate. She couldn’t help but feel like the elves had really outdone themselves this time. And if she’d thought she’d been hungry before, the comfortable silence that fell over them as they ate gave away just how much both of them were enjoying the meal. It was only when he spoke again that she looked back up, almost eagerly. She hadn’t made it quite as far as he had on her own plate, but she was making good progress at least.

“Well, I can think of several examples...” she murmured thoughtfully, though her mind had gone back to the first night they’d been together. And just how much she had been willing to give up to keep his secrets safe. Thankfully none of that had been necessary, and the two of them were here now, together and happy, mostly healthy. “If someone loves another; not even in love, but.. They would go to great lengths for them, even if they’re not willing to admit they love them at the time.” she met his eyes when she said this, smiling softly. And then of course there had been those months after the fateful battle, where she’d spent half her time jumping back and forth between Ireland and London, trying to manage her brother’s responsibilities and care for a badly injured Dermod.

One of his favourite pastimes had always been teasing the young woman, and tonight was no exception. Earlier, it seemed that he'd gone too far and he genuinely regretted that, even though in his mind it was the fact he hadn't offered to share the cake that had been his primary sin. But now they were on safer territory; Gabriella's curiosity for books and particularly anything written by her husband was practically legendary in the castle. “You can read anything. All of it” he paused, and added slyly “if you can read it, of course...” Although he had never explained the particulars, the charm Dermod had developed to make his handwriting legible didn't need to be used at the time something was written. So he could write notes and leave them as a barely-readable scrawl for several days until he needed to read them again.

And that little detail created some amusing possibilities. He could leave a half-scrawled page or two in the midst of his novel notes, something that appeared to be fascinating and full of promise but in reality was a letter making a reservation at a restaurant or a description of what vegetables needed to be planted on the estate next season; just waiting to be picked up and deciphered. Because while his natural handwriting these days was difficult to read, it wasn't completely impossible for one with time and patience. The idea of Gabriella thinking she was about to discover a new plotline and instead ten minutes down the line finding a breakfast menu was too good not to pursue at some point in the future...

But not tonight. Not while they were so close, talking as they so often did in seeming riddles that both understood. Because Gabriella knew exactly what he was suggesting, of course. He hadn't actually meant the two of them as an example, but it was a perfect choice. The night they had each discovered the others' secrets - that he was a Death Eater and she a connoisseur thief of rare books was where all this had truly begun. The point from when there was no turning back for either of them, though it had been some time since Dermod had realised or at least admitted as much to himself.

“They would...” he agreed, raising the wine glass to his lips and sampling the wine. It was excellent, of course; there was nothing substandard in the Schull cellars “But I've been wondering...what are the limits one person would go to if another's life was threatened? What form would the threat take? If you were kidnapped...and rescuing you were an impossibility...what would I do to guarantee your safety? Or what would you do if the positions were reversed..?” It was a dark, disturbing subject for the dinner table, but for Dermod no such discussion was too discomforting as to be off limits. Indeed, a moment later he laughed, genuinely amused by his own train of thought. “And then I wonder why I don't sleep at night! But I do like the idea - it's just a shame that I'm not in a position to be able to publish any more books.”

When he suggested that she might not be able to read it even if she could find it, Gabriella raised an eyebrow. “What, did you write it in Gaelic?” she asked teasingly as she continued to eat, a bit of a teasing glint in her eyes. His handwriting had greatly improved since when he’d first been injured, so that wasn’t what immediately came to her mind, unaware that he’d been using a charm to improve it. There had been a lot they’d missed in their four years of self imposed solitude; things they were only recently starting to either re-learn or discover for the first time.

She paused in her eating, however, her eyes narrowing before she took a sip of her wine, finding that it paired well with dinner, as was to be expected of course. “I know that look.” she murmured, almost disapprovingly, but more amused. “Thats the look you get when you’ve thought of some devilish prank for later down the line… I suppose I’ll have to keep my eyes peeled now.” she let out a pretend sigh, resting her chin on her hand and watching him. She loved listening to him talk about his stories, something she hadn’t gotten much of lately, but was glad that they were slowly getting back to their old ways; at least the good ones. There were a few that she would like to leave in the past.

But his question was an intriguing one, and the darkness of the subject didn’t even phase her. For one, it was a hypothetical, and with writing, many darker subjects were brought up, so it wasn’t that uncommon. And for two, there were few things that gabriella personally considered taboo subjects, though not ones that she’d have brought up on her own, not wanting to create an awkward moment for someone else. She took another bite of her food and chewed it thoughtfully, wondering what exactly she would do. “I think… that were I in a position where saving your life meant doing things I would never otherwise do…. There isn’t a whole lot I wouldn’t do. For you, or for Rhiannon…” she answered softly.

“Now that is a fine idea...” he agreed when she mentioned writing in Gaelic “I used to, you know. When I was at school...I used to write my journal in Gaelic in case anyone tried to read it.” Predictably, he had also hexed it as well, a variety of different spells over the years that got increasingly more complex, so anyone attempting to open it would have run the risk of a book that bit their nose, chased them out of the room and, ultimately, appeared to catch on fire. He'd been particularly proud of that one. These days, he wrote everything in English. It was far easier to write in the language that would ultimately be published in, rather than trying to translate a particular passage that simply didn't have the same feel or flow in another tongue.

Having almost cleared his plate, Dermod added some salad and another helping of asparagus and started in on those, chuckling as Gabriella said she would need to be on her guard. “I'm sure I don't know what you mean” he said, with the expression of mock indignation that he had perfected. Reaching across the table, he took her hand once again and held it. “And I for you...” he admitted, for a rare moment letting his guard down entirely. But their words sparked something else entirely, and already he was thinking about the implications of what they had just said.

“Actually, that's potentially a very interesting concept” he said; a curious smile playing on his lips. Running his thumb across the palm of her hand, he released it and took another forkful of his meal as he considered the idea a little more before putting it into words. “Its all very well having one person going to great lengths for another, but what if they were both in an impossible situation. Each being blackmailed in order to keep the other safe, and neither knowing about the other. Until one day - they find out, and...”he trailed off thoughtfully, having got no further than this for the moment. Unfortunately, the writer was already planning to showdown between the three protaganists - none of whom even had so much as a name yet - a scene that would involve some particularly gruesome and imaginative hexes that thankfully only existed within the pages of his novels.

Gabriella was doing her best to eat all of the food that dermod had put on her plate, but she also wanted to save enough room for cake. It was very touching and sweet that he was so worried about her health, now that both of them had noticed how poorly she’d been eating the past few years, and how thin she’d gotten... but honestly, even on a good day she could barely eat half as much as him, and hated seeing such good food go to waste. “You know...” she murmured softly. “If we end up staying up entirely too late tonight, we could sneak down to the kitchens again and make ourselves sandwiches with the leftover meat and these amazing rolls...” she was actually rather fond of the idea, especially if they spent the evening talking and finishing off the white wine, they could drink the red with their late night snack… she laughed a little, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. My mind has gone completely off course and is trying to plan out what to do for a midnight meal when we’re not even done this one.” it was a good sign however. Her appetite was returning, and possibly more so then it had been before.

And it wasn’t just her appetite that was returning. She’d gone from completely numb to feeling her own emotions so much more keenly, more aware of their presence then she’d been before. Not to mention the subtle shifts in her husband’s face or tone that made her heart flutter. He was such a guarded man that when little things slipped through the cracks, to her they’d always been much more potent then they would have seemed to someone else who didn’t know him. But for him to admit something so profound that almost sent her into tears, putting her other hand on his as well, swallowing to keep herself from trembling. It meant the world to her that she had found someone like him. Someone who treasured her and cared for her, but also respected her thoughts and opinions, even when it came to his own personal endeavors. A subject change that Gabriella was deeply appreciative for, at the moment.

“That is a horrible and despicable Idea. I love it.” she grinned, taking her hands back and returning to her food, thoughtfully. She continued to pick at it, no longer hungry, but also wanting to make a good effort. And it was so delicious. “So would it be lovers being blackmailed to protect each other?” she asked, considering his earlier question in context with the statements he had just made. “Two people, each with a dark secret, and a third who knows both their secrets and uses the threat of harming the other to keep them working for him? I don’t think them learning they were both being manipulated would be enough however. Sure it would give them a common enemy… but there would have to be a breaking point… something that drove them over the edge and realized that something had to be done.” she mused, eating another piece of meat before returning to her wine.

“I think the woman should kill him.” she said suddenly. “It would be a definitive change of pace, to be sure.” there were a few occurrences in his many works where a woman had been the one to off the villain, or save the day, but it was usually an accident. A shove that ended in a fall down a set of stairs, or a struggle over a wand that caused it to go off, usually resulting in her needing to be comforted by her lover over the horror she’d just committed.  “I think she should knowingly plot and kill him. No one would see it coming.”

Dermod was delighted by his wife's suggestion. He certainly had no plans to retire early tonight...or rather, if they did retire early, it was unlikely that there would be much sleep occurring. “A fine plan. Were you intending we should eat sandwiches in the laundry room, or perhaps adjourn to the library later on?” he enquired softly, a knowing look glinting in his eyes, though while Gabriella was holding his hand so tenderly, he thought little of the food and far more of other, more intimate matters... but for now, it was still early and the evening young, so when she took her hands away he quickly finished his second helping of the meal. It was delicious, and for a moment his fork wavered in the direction of the salad - there was a lot left - but then he recalled the cake. He definitely wanted cake more than he wanted salad, and the elves would happily finish off any leftovers that weren't made into sandwiches later.

He smiled when Gabriella said liked the plot idea. Never had the writer craved approval, not even from his publishers, but this was an entirely new experience. The act of creative collaboration was fresh and exciting, and his mind was racing ahead. He nodded at her words. Lovers being blackmailed - yes, that would be the most interesting. “I was considering the idea of siblings, but you're right. It would be harder to blackmail a brother and sister unless they were incredibly close” he said... “though of course, that implies that the secret that is discovered applies to both parties...or that they each have a secret that is connected in some way...” he was thoughtful for a moment “unless one of them had been working for the blackmailer and wanted to stop. That would imply that whatever they were doing hadn't been entirely legal or acceptable in wider society...” he was smiling now, eyes blazing, food temporarily forgotten.

That would account for the first third or so of the book. Enough to explore the backgrounds of all three protagonists, and... “I need a quill” he declared suddenly, rising from his seat and crossing the short distance to his desk, where the aroma of the still cake wafted up enticingly. Quill and a hardbacked notepad, rather than parchment, in hand, together with an oddly-shaped, padded block about the size of half a fist, he returned to their dinner table, etiquette forgotten for the moment. “So once they discover they are both being blackmailed, or at least unable to escape the villain's influence, I imagine that will push them closer together, at least temporarily...” he was scribbling, diminished hand leaning on the block to compensate for his lost fingers and flesh “and then...”

He sat back with a smile, and nodded. Yes. Have the woman be the murderer, the good, well-bred pureblooded maiden of thirty or so who nobody would ever suspect of harming a billywig, much less of killing someone...”If she does plot to kill him, it would be still more interesting if the final murder isn't anticipated, and her plans have to change at the last possible minute. That way the readers truly wouldn't see the death coming...” He broke off suddenly, almost jerking into silence, as another thought occurred. What if the blackmailer and the male lover were formerly good friends, or...even related in some way? What if they were brothers, or cousins, or...

“We'll need to find a quillname for you as well, at this rate” he chuckled comfortably.

A deep blush crossed her cheeks, but Gabriella was smiling almost flirtatiously. “Well that depends on if its before or after midnight, I suppose...” she murmured sweetly. “After all, if its before midnight, then its still your birthday so I suppose it would be your choice.” she took a final bite before setting her silverware down on her almost clean plate and pushing it away slightly. “I can’t eat another bite.” she smiled. “At least of dinner…. Give me a  few minutes and I might find room for cake.” there was a pleased look on her face as she settled back comfortably in her chair, listening to him talk, and brainstorm.

The welshwoman let out a soft laugh as he insisted upon his need for a quill. She would have offered to acquire him one but he was already up. And retrieving a few things for himself as their plates disappeared, leaving them a clear table with which to work. Though she doubted that he would have accepted her help if she had offered. Dermod was very determined to do many things himself, even if her offer was for kindness and not because of his injury. She was interested in the padded block, before realizing what it was for, impressed that he’d found a way to write comfortably even with everything that had happened.

“Its also likely that if the Blackmailer learns that they are now both aware, I would imagine that things might escalate. The threats and violence. He wouldn’t be able to keep a close eye on them separately, so he’d need to find a way to isolate them, somewhere he could ensure that they would not be able to get away easily.” she nodded, leaning forwards on the table and discussing things eagerly with him, a few whisps of hair falling forwards into her face as he continued talking. “He might put the woman’s life in danger to keep the male lover working for him...” adding her own thoughts to what he was doing, not even really thinking that she was collaborating by throwing out some ideas of her own.

“What if the plot to kill him is sudden?” she asked softly. “His plans are unraveling, and she becomes afraid he’ll kill them both to cover their tracks!” she stopped, another blush crossing her cheeks. “I don’t...I’m not….” she realized he was complementing her, but stopped and blinked.

“Dermod thats it! What if the books were published by a woman? I mean… I wouldn’t do publicity events or anything… but you could still write… and we could publish them under a quillname for me?” she hated attention of any kind, but if there was a way that he could still publish his books, any way, Gabriella wanted that for him.

When he had returned to the table with quill and book, the dinner plates had vanished. Dermod had no doubt that, should they so desire it, there would be a suitable array of leftovers waiting in the kitchen for a midnight visit later on. He took a quick glance to his desk - yes, the cake was still there. He had known it would be, but just felt a sudden desire to make certain; it was almost enough to distract him from their plotting. That wasn't all, though. It hadn't escaped his keen eyes that Gabriella had seen how he wrote these days, and despite their closeness these days the Irishman felt uncomfortable. He realised with a jolt that she hadn't sen him write since before...that night. Would she find it unpleasant or pathetic that he resorted to this means of comfort?

Or on a lighter note, would she try and read what he had written? Dermod looked at the half-page of notes he had already; the scrawl was legible, but nothing to be proud of. He was thankful that she simply continued with idea, which he added onto the quasi-list, before lifting his wand left-handed and casting a simple charm to instantly dry the ink before swiftly flipping to the next page. “Yes...although I would prefer to avoid kidnapping. I've used that plot device on three different occasions. Wouldn't want people to think I was becoming predictable...” he tailed off, thoughtful now.

Because nobody was going to think that. Nobody would even know he was writing again, because Kevan Taite was dead, and Dermod Larkin Morfessa wasn't known for his writing. That part of his life was no more than a shade, something believed by everyone but not actually tangible, for the writer who had become known for Dermod's tales had never even existed. Until four years ago, he had never considered the implications, or what might happen if he were no longer able to use the quillname. But as much as he hated the idea of fading into obscurity, he had come to realise that not writing simply wasn't an option. And if that meant he had to ghost write for someone else...why not his wife? He had gone very still, quill poised above the page as if to continue. At the back of his mind he had heard her other plot suggestions, they were sparking yet more idea, but...

“Yes. That could work...” he agreed, though there was an unmistakeable note of wistful sadness in his voice, echoed in his eyes. He drew a careful breath, masking what he was feeling, and cast his mind back to her previous suggestions. His next words once again were filled with enthusiasm. “That's exactly right. She can make plans to kill him in one way - say, lure him to a deserted house...but then he threatens her lover's life. While the threat to her life simply forces him to comply with the blackmailer's demands, the reverse pushes her to breaking point. She won't capitulate, not this time. She realises there is only one way out, and she pushes him from the highest tower of a castle, or curses him as she looks straight into his eyes..?”

She did glance at what he was writing, though Gabriella was honestly more interested in what of her suggestions he was writing down, dinner all but forgotten for the time being as the food vanished as well, leaving them with a clear table, a steaming pot of tea, and plates for Gabriella’s desert. “Yes, kidnapping would be a bit much.” she could count how many times he’d done that in his books from memory. But she caught the change in his demeanor, and rested her hand over his lovingly. “Dermod. We will find a way.” she said softly, understanding where his mind had gone. Reluctantly, she took her hand back from him, and stood, only to move her chair closer to him so that she was out of his way, but still in range to lean over and kiss him softly. And as soon as she was settled back into her chair, she did exactly that, leaning over and letting her lips brush gently against his, before settling back into her chair.

But she was glad he’d returned to the subject of what he was… in a sense, what they were writing. It excited her to actually be a part of this for once. She’d never been able to do that before, even when she’d helped him re-write the burned manuscript for the last book he’d ever published. Not that they’d ever figured out who had set that little fire… why did it always have to be fire. “Those methods are all well and good, but you’re thinking too much like a man.” she teased him softly, a smile crossing her face. “Though it would depend on the woman. My sister for instance, would not have put up with that blackmail for long, if at all. She’d have simply gotten rid of him from the get go. You need someone less confident in their abilities i think, if they’re going to be manipulated for that long, unless they’re someone famous, with a lot more to loose.” she rested her head on his shoulder as she spoke, her hand resting gently on his left arm, though easily able to move.

“Were I going to kill someone, for example, I’d opt for poison. And hide it in something strong enough to drown out the taste.” she straightened up and smiled at him teasingly. “Shall I cut you some cake?” knowing full well what she had just implied, yet knowing her husband well enough to know that he would understand the playful jest in her voice as she reached for the plates.

Dermod felt his unpredictable temper begin to rise, but unusually, he tried hard to subdue it. He hated pity in any form, no matter the source or reason. But Gabriella was trying so hard, wanting him to be happy and fulfilled, and she believed she was helping. He grunted in response, keeping his head down even as he was too distracted to write for the moment. Our of the corner of his eye he saw her move her chair, assuming to was so she could see what he was writing. That felt uncomfortable; it was one thing to share his notes after he'd written them, but while he still had quill in hand felt somehow too intimate.

But then she leaned over and kissed him. It was enough of a surprise, and a pleasant one at that, that after a fraction of a second he responded, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. He could let the angry, frustrated feeling subside, at least for now. For now it was enough that he was writing again. And this - whatever they were doing, collaboration or brainstorming or whatever it was - was strangely enjoyable, far more than he would have expected. Her words brought new ideas. Yes, it would have to be someone less confident, less experienced in wandwork...someone like Gabriella in fact, though he wouldn't say as much. Someone who could never win by brute force but instead had learned subtler means of achieving success. As for someone famous - what if  a fan or colleague had discovered Dermod's true identity and had threatened his career? And if he hadn't been in a position to kill them on the spot, what circumstances would it take, he wondered...

“What if the two men were related in some way? Brothers, perhaps? That way it would be reasonable that they knew each others' secrets, but then if something happened to drive them apart. The younger would stand to inherit everything if the elder died, but outright murder would be too obvious...so instead he tries blackmail to gain what he wants. Because the elder has killed mudbloods, of course. The younger could easily tell the Ministry, or the newspapers...” he paused and thought again, scribbling at the same time. At the moment they were nothing more than thoughts, and disordered ones at that, but the plot was definitely taking shape.

And then he threw back his head and laughed. Because Gabriella knew exactly what she was saying, and he knew as well, and he knew he was entirely safe. But that didn't mean he was going to let her get away with it. “That would be delicious. Perhaps we should ask one of the elves up here to try it first though. Just to be sure it is...properly cooked” he said with a wicked smile, sitting back and eyeing the cake expectantly. She wouldn't think he was serious, of course, any more than she was. But it would be an interesting plot twist. The quiet woman who slipped down to the kitchens, applying her potions skills to a very special meal...

Gabriella wasn’t exactly sure what she’d done wrong, but she could feel him tense up. That quickly went away when he returned the kiss and smiled at her softly. She assumed that it was because he was uncomfortable reading over his shoulder, and adjusted her chair so she was still looking at him, instead of what he was writing. In truth, she’d just wanted to be closer to him. But he seemed to have calmed down at least, once he’d realized what her true intentions were. She was getting used to the fact that there would always be little moments like this in their lives, but they were easier to smooth over then they had been in the past, as both of them got used to the idea that things were not always what they seemed at first.

“I think that would work very well. Jealousy is always a powerful motivator.” she nodded her approval at the brother’s suggestion, busying herself with pouring them both tea and fixing Dermod’s the way he liked it as she listened to what he was saying. “Because even if it was an accident, people would still look at him suspiciously...” she agreed, smiling as she watched him write before sliding his cup of tea in front of him and settling back a bit with hers. “Though as much as I’m not against the idea, killing mudbloods is another of those overused tropes of yours...” she offered up. And if they ever did manage to find a way to keep publishing, they’d have to do so in such a way that would make the main character at least sympathetic to the audience. “Perhaps he deals in Illegal magical artifacts? And that's how he’s kept up the family wealth?” 

It was good to hear Dermod laugh, a sound that brought a smile to her face and warmth to her heart. The two of them had been silent for too long. She stood, smoothing her skirts as she did so, and leaned over once more to plant another quick kiss on his lips before taking the plates and heading over to his desk where the cake was. “Well seeing as you already tried it...” she teased wryly. Gabriella used her wand to cut two slices of the cake, one half the size of the other, before returning to the table and setting a generous helping, with a finger hole in it, next to Dermod’s tea without a word and returning to her own chair. She settled back into her seat comfortably, picking up her own dessert fork and making a show of taking a bite, as if to show it wasn’t poisoned after all, still smiling.

So engrossed was he with scribbling notes that Dermod didn't even realise Gabriella was pouring tea until she slid the cup in front of him. The pleasant aroma of firewhisky drifted up and he placed his quill down beside the notebook, reached for the cup automatically as they continued to discuss possibilities. The cup was almost to his lips when he snorted with amusement. “Overused trope?” he demanded, turning to face her. His voice attempted to sound indignant but her choice of words amused him and besides, he did accept that what she said had merit. He hadn't explained himself very well, having been intending something interesting and historical that would fit in with the story. “I was thinking along the lines that the younger brother had been attacked when he was younger, and the older had killed in his defence. That way the older brother would always have been the better of the two, adding to the younger's jealousy” he paused “but I actually prefer the illegal artifacts idea. It has more scope for an interesting backstory...”

This time the cup of tea did reach his lips, and he drank thoughtfully. His family had originally gained their wealth in precisely that fashion, importing magical goods and creatures long before the statute of secrecy had come into force. While he couldn't remember ever discussing that part of the O'Driscoll history, there were detailed records in the library. Perhaps Gabriella had come across them at some point, or maybe it was mere coincidence that she came up with the idea now. Either way, he didn't mind, and the idea was a good one. There was, of course, no reason why there couldn't be a few mudblood-slayings mixed in as side plots, he thought with a smirk.

He noticed that she walked over to the cake rather than summoning it, then almost immediately realised that she wouldn't want to risk anything happening to it after the work she'd put in. Or perhaps she's slipping the poison in now, while I'm not paying attention the darkest part of his mind suggested, which triggered another soft snort of amusement. When she returned, it didn't escape his notice that his piece of cake did indeed contain the portion that he'd tasted earlier, but he still allowed her to pretend to taste her slice before lifting his own fork. That was a concession to his wife's sensibilities - cake was meant to be picked up and bitten into, not delicately eaten with a tiny little fork - but that didn't stop it tasting delicious.

“If it does turn out to be poisoned, this has been a magnificent last meal...” he declared cheerfully.

Gabriella grinned a little sheepishly at his fake indignation, though she still stood by her point. Especially if they were looking at publishing it in this day and age. They had to be careful so as not to give themselves away as Kevan, and to not do something that would cause outrage or suspicion. And he really did use killing mudbloods because they were mudbloods a lot in his books. But he didn’t seem too put off by it, and actually seemed to like her suggestion. Which was good, because she was about to backpedal somewhat. After all, if he had killed the men because of some reason other their blood status that would be perfectly alright. “Ah now see that would have been different, because their blood status wouldn’t be the reason he killed them.” she clarified, but she still liked her idea. “Maybe his brother saw him kill someone in a business deal gone wrong?” she offered up, nibbling delicately on her slice of cake.

She smiled as he continued the jest of poisoning, shaking her head as she tried not to laugh, her dark brown waves falling forwards over her shoulder. “Well I’m glad you like it.” she said softly, before smiling and reaching over slowly, with her fingers, and tore off a small piece of his, popping it into her mouth, watching him all the while. “Satisfied i’m not trying to kill you?” she said smugly, licking her fingers before cleaning her hand on a napkin and picking up the plate again.

“So how would the brothers have met their female friend?” she asked curiously, taking another bite of her cake, before smiling a little. “Of course, going off the Jealousy angle…. What if the younger brother met her first, but she fell in love with the elder? That would certainly help create tension.” Gabriella couldn’t believe that she was actually sitting here having this conversation with him, and coming up with good ideas that he liked. She’d been reading her entire life though, so perhaps it shouldn’t have surprised her as much. She knew what elements made a good story.

If he hadn't known better Dermod would have suspected that Gabriella had done this before. She hadn't disagreed with any of his ideas, but rather expanded upon them, providing more scope for the plot to advance. “Yes...that works...” he said, turning to the third page of the notebook. A business deal that went wrong, which is quite likely when one deals in illegal artefacts. There was a further twist they could add, too.  “What if the younger brother is the one who initially arranged the deal? Perhaps they worked together at that point, and the older brother has to clear up younger one's mess. But then he doesn't let on what has happened, just tells the younger brother that he isn't to arrange deals any more...” That should already sow the seed of mistrust and envy, start to affect their relationship even before the female protagonist came on the scene.

Plotting was temporarily set aside when he ate his slice of cake. It was perfect; he'd already eaten almost half before he laid down his fork and smiled again at her words. “Unless I fail to stop myself from eating the entire thing this evening and thus expire of a cake overdose” he suggested. The delicious mix of alcohol and fruit worked wonderfully, and Dermod couldn't remember the last time he'd had a birthday cake made for him, as opposed to the elves providing something because all the special occasions were marked on a calendar in the kitchens. Probably his last cake had been when Rhiannon was very young, going through that phase unique to small children where everyone and everything has to have a birthday and celebrate it accordingly. He vaguely recalled celebratory cakes for her goldfish and even for her favourite storybook, and was glad they no longer had to go through such elaborate charades. Cliona had delighted in those occasions, of course.

Dermod was enjoying the remains of his cake when Gabriella answered her own question.  “I like it... that's perfect, in fact” he agreed, at the same time wondering what eversion of his books Gabriella had actually read. True, there were often romantic scenes blended in with the pureblood supremacy theme which was the main plot of nearly all his novels, but it wasn't ever something he had considered as being part of the story. He'd always considered that as more of an aside to keep certain readers interested; something he assumed most people skipped over. But apparently not. Kevan Taite: Romantic Novelist he thought to himself, and laughed. “It's nothing...I was just thinking” he said before she could ask. But with the slice of cake almost finished, he picked up the quill again and started writing once again.

“So with that in mind, there is already a somewhat strained relationship between the brothers. The younger resentful, not knowing that the murder he witnessed was to save his own life. But even so, all would be well until the younger introduces the female protagonist to the elder...” At this point in the tale, the younger brother would be depicted as slightly unstable, jealous, and ungrateful, so it would be natural for the woman to prefer his sibling. The readers already prefer him too. “Which, of course, would be the catalyst that sends the younger brother over the edge, and he has the idea of blackmailing the elder, and threatening the wellbeing of the woman they both care for...” Except, of course, the younger brother's style of caring would be the if I can't have her, nobody can veiled threat.

Ideas were coming faster than the Irishman could write them down. Faster than they had for years, even before the battle...and he was thoroughly enjoying it.

Enjoying her own slice of cake, comfortably sitting back in her chair as the rum and wine was starting to muddle her mind ever so slightly, but also make her more talkative, more confident, and even a little flirtatious though at this point it was more in the way she watched him, enjoying the way he looked when he was deep in thought. Even if his thoughts at the moment were wholly on the cake and not what they’d been talking about moments before.  Of course he was a writer, and his thoughts wouldn’t stay away for too long.

Listening to her husband take the little flits of ideas that popped into her head and weave them together into a cohesive story was almost like its own form of magic. She had no idea how he did it, but it worked, and sounded beautiful. And of course then there was finally getting to actually read it in all its verbose wonder. That had to be her favorite part, but this brainstorming together was quickly becoming a close second. Finally finishing her cake, Gabriella set the plate down and was picking up her tea when he started laughing. Her quisical head tilt was interrupted by his abrupt, though still very amused statement that he’d just had something silly pop into his mind, before moving back to the story they were working on. They. it sounded nice when she thought of it like that. She had half a mind to ask him what it was about, but didn’t want to interrupt the creative process.

She nodded in agreement with everything that he said, her own expression that of a woman deep in thought. “I think that sounds perfect. I’m sure there will be tweaks as we start to add details, but that sounds really good for a start.” she smiled at him as he continued to write, going silent for a good while and just enjoying the peacefulness of what they were doing. Eventually however, she did ask a question. “So what would the trigger be? What could cause the younger brother to snap in such a way that would make the woman convinced he intended to kill them both?”