Approaching the Kamikatsu Apartment doors, an odd thing might draw one's attention as the door opens with a frantic, though hushed servant in livery peeking out and dragging in one of the two sentinels into the apartment proper. The other seems mildly startled, but man's his post. Moreso, perhaps, at seeing someone approach. He bows formally to the Prince as he arrives, but hesitates to open the door. Only a moment though, and then moves in with stately form to announce the arrival of the Prince to see Princess Elyse. At the opening of the door, you can hear a worried voice, "Your Highness . . . please, Your Grace, leave it to Yoshu . . . you'll catch a chill if you don't fall to your death first!"

The Prince has been well trained in matters of observation, and as he approaches the doors do the apartment picking up on the slight hints, his manner turns from casual to one more serious. That reflection changes by double as he hears words from within the apartments, stepping within with his arms folded behind his back. This is perhaps the first time he had stepped within the apartments in full official form, his eyes scanning the room, and his expression hiding that hint of curiousity within him.

The doors to the balcony are flung wide open, permitting the chill of early spring to chase what warmth the fireplace could offer away to greater heights near the vaulted ceiling. Beyond the open doors of the balcony, the rather strange sight of the Pincess leannig way over the stone railing comes into view. It would be amusing, seeing her bum bent on display for anyone to gaze upon, were her position not so precarious, there, on slippered tip-toe. One might hear her muffled voice, thrown back toward Gherta, "Oh, pish-posh, Gherta. I know it must be here close. I *heard* hit the ediface . . . Yoshu is shorter than I am, in any case. Come tell me where it is, Gherta--Oh!!" she exclaims as she starts to topple over. Yoshu, the guard presumably, starts for her, managing to grab only part of her skirt as she spills over the side.

The Prince has been expecting another matter all-together, though as he enters into the view of the balcony there is a slight level of amusement. He notices her bum first of all, a pleasant surprise that arches his eyebrow before the rest of his senses demand to be noticed. That's when he realizes the Princess being tipped over the side, with the guard not exactly managing to catch her. Theowyn's hesitation is barely noticed as he leaps into the motions he was well trained with. That smooth gaidin grace crossing the length of the room and into the escapes of the balcony. "Light..." he breaths with frustration and a ton of other emotions that enter into his conciousness soon removed by the void that settles in so naturally. Theowyn nearly leaps over the balcony, hurling himself against the railing, his body bending around the curve of it as his arms reach out for her in whoever he may find her with that span of time.

Yoshu only manages to tear a portion of her gown as she topples over the side, but the Princess herself, grapples the lower portion of the railing, just in time to feel the brush of Theowyn's grasp past her shoulder as he lunges for her. She screams again, pure fright expressed on her countenance as her slippered feet scramble to try to get a foothold against the facade of the lower half of the balcony. Her knuckles are white as she grips one of the stone spindles of the railing, then start to slip. Gasping for breath she withholds the additional screams she wants to let out.

A few short mutters is all Theowyn manages to spare before he gains full awareness of the situation. With the arms on her shoulders, he is doing little to hold her up, and so instead he risks the brief releast to take his by the forearms. Those large hands wrap around her delicate arms, and he takes a rather needing holding of her. "I'm going to pull you up..." he hopes with that, hoping for a good grip as though he would likely easily hold the Princess up otherwise.

Elyse lets out a deep breath, hearing Theowyn's voice and feeling the additional grasp of Yoshu's hands on her arms to assist. She too, tries to grasp the helping hands or their arms for additional grip as she dangles beneath them.

Theowyn tries to coordinate the effort with Yoshu without saying much of the word, leaving one arm to his full hold while Theowyn reaches down to beneath her arm. Realizing that will likely not work so well, he simply gives Yoshu a "hold her" before he begins to move across the barrier between the balcony an the fall. One foot then the next, he settles into the edge of the side. One hand holds the top of the railing, the other reaches for Elyse's waist. It would likely have been better had he disarmed himself, but his thoughts were rash. The arm around her waist means to stabilize her, and pull her up enough so that her feet can get a better edge on the floor of the balcony.

Yoshu does hold her, firmly, without confirming verbally or even with a nod to Theowyn. He does spare a glance, however, as the Prince puts himself in further danger for the life of Yoshu's charge. Elyse starts at Theowyn's arm around her waist, not having the luxury of seeing the situation herself. She doesn't let go though, and neither does Yoshu. And with Theowyn's help and guidance, she manages to find firmer footing than the mere dangling her slender slippered feet had done before. Even here, she does not let go . . . Yoshu doesn't seem to mean to any time soon, either. They both seem to wait for direction from the Prince.

The Prince does not always realize that the Princess would see nothing, only feel for whatever she might. Setting a calm in the scene, as much in so that no one is tangling from the balcony, he takes a few moments in deep breath. The sword still sits rather awkward on his hip now, more interference then anything, but at least it is at the side opposite to Elyse's. "Princess, I'm going to guide you up as your guard pulls." He does intend to do just that, and strangely enough, his voice is a perfect calm. "We just need to get you over the barrier," he explains further, lifting lightly on his hold on her waist as he hopes the other will pull her up enough so that Theowyn can guide her legs across the barrier.

Nodding once, Elyse seems fuelled by Theowyn's calm voice to issue one somewhat calm herself--albeit sprinkled liberally with fear for not just her safety, but Theowyn's now. "I understand," she intones breathlessly, trying hard to keep herself from shaking in the spring chill where the wind is probably a bit stronger at such heights. She straightens a bit, though doesn't move her feet, and nods again, "I'm ready." her voice a bit more firm this time. And Yoshu looks to Theowyn wordlessly for his preparedness, ready to heave the Princess up when the Prince is at the ready himself.

Such intimate embraces saved for when he is to aid in her rescue, Theowyn's hands move down her slender waist and across her hips to curl just beneath her hip. It is the place where he can gain the surest hope. "Ready, go." With that, as Yoshy pressumably lifts Elyse up, Theowyn raises to from his crouched position at the balcony. One hand pulls him up, the other guides her lower body up.

Quite unlike her usual grace, such physical activity is beyond her ability to perform and look good doing it at the same time. Scrambling with the help of both her guard and the Prince, she manages to bang, bruise, and scrape her knees and shins a few times, tear her gown considerably more, and *gasp* eventually straddle the railing itself before pulling her other leg over safely. Unused to such abuse, her legs buckle out from under her as she puts her full weight on them. Yoshu manages to catch her, however, while watching to make sure the Prince comes over the railing safely, himself. With her bosom heaving from exertion she asks worriedly, "Prince Theowyn?" tilting her head in the direction of the railing, hoping he is not stuck as she was moments before.

Theowyn is nearly over just after Elyse falls into her guards arms. His sword can be heard scraping against the top of the railing, though he does manage to move over easily enough and find the other side of Elyse to go to. "Princess, are you well?" he asks with the genuin concern, seeing her scraped and her dress well torn. "We're safe now," he adds quietly, reassuring her, though he does not intrude on her being within the guards arms, simply places his hand on her shoulder.

Relief washes over Elyse's features and she turns from the guard to Theowyn's arms, or the reasonable proximity of them, hoping to find comfort in his hold, and seeking to rest her head against his chest. Her legs seem wobbly, but are regaining their strength little by little. The guard, of course, makes no protest over her departing his arms for Theowyn. Were it not for her being in peril, he'd not have laid a hand on Royal blood at all. He actually seems relieved, though won't fully let go of her until he knows that she is well in Theowyn's grasp.

Theowyn's arm returns to its place around her waist as he draws her into his embrace. The other arm comes around her shoulders, leading her head toward a resting place on his chest. Theowyn settles back on the railing of the balcony, his fingers moving across her cheek and through Elyse's hair. "Princess, all is well," he insures quietly. Both arms about her, the entire embrace, is far to warm and hard, more so then she'd require to stand. He seems to wish to press her body against his with all his will, though without bringing her harm. "Your dress," there is a hint of relief in his voice. "It will not be worn again," he notes, hoping to change her attentions away from what nearly happened.

Shivering slightly, though perhaps more from shock than the cold, or a little of both, the Princess presses her lithe form close to Theowyn's, one hand gently resting at his waist, the other pressed close to her face against his chest. She does not weep, but her manner indicates that the comfort is well-received, the fright this incident caused her slowly beginning to subside. Finally, she gives a small, shakey laugh at your comment, "No doubt Gherta is hovering nearbby to get me changed before I am seen . . . ' her voice lowers, "Or before you have much opportunity to see too much, My Prince," there is a sultry undertone to her voice, but it is marred by the shakiness lingering from her fright. She does not seem ready, or willing to pull away, even to appease Gherta who is wringing her hands with worry just inside the sitting room, watching from the opened doors. Yoshu, for his part, bows and departs, murmuring to Gherta about having healers called for the Princess, and additional servants to see that her needs are met.

Theowyn's hand does touch upon flesh where there should be the cloth of her dress protecting her from both his tough and the sight of her flesh. Theowyn offers a light chuckle in response. The tight embrace shows no hint of parting. "Gherta would be correct, Princess. I fear that my eyes may fall witness to much of your charms if you were to pull away from my embrace." He exaggerates perhaps, though the way his finger plays across that hint of flesh at her waist. "Do the cuts hurt?" Theowyn asks in a returning concern.

"They sting," she answers simply, in a stronger voice. Borderlanders are perhaps known for their endurance if nothing else, but she is not used to pain, so it is difficult to disguise her discomfort completely. Goosebumps soon appear where Theowyn caresses her bare skin with his tender hand, but they could be just as much the result of the thrilling sensation as the result of the cool spring wind whipping about the balcony, "Am I such a fool?" she asks soft enough for only Theowyn to hear, "It sounded as if my earring landed on the ledge, truly it did," her voice is meek, even apologetic. Her cheeks flush with a measure of embarrassment, though likely not to be seen, still holding herself tightly in Theowyn's warm embrace, her head bent and pressed against his chest.

"You will remember not to reach for it yourself," Theowyn whispers quietly, the hand about her shoulder moving to her cheek next. "I feared you'd be lost to me." Even for that cool and controlled manner of the Warder, his tone hints at his near despirate concern that he was feeling within as he head witnessed her flip over the edge of the balcony. "All turned out well, and for now, you still grow accustomed to your new settings." Looking to the doors of the balcony. "A blanket for the Princess perhaps?" he suggests, holding Elyse despirately within his warm embrace, not wanting to part with her.

Curtseying, Gherta murmurs, "Yes, Your Highness," still with a furrowed brow of worry on her features, then departs from view--leaving the pair utterly alone. Elyse gives Theowyn a gentle squeeze, wishing it were possible for her body to be even closer, though pressed entirely against his, it isn't. "Accustomed . . ." she repeats thoughtfully, then sighs, but says nothing more. Moments later, Gherta returns with said blanket, wintry warm--it had been packed away with Spring's return but retrieved for this moment. The opening of the door offers the sounds of more servants entering, though they back away when they see Elyse in the arms of Theowyn, each with a proper curtsey of course, and begin busying themselves with minor tasks such as warming up the tea, or going into Elyse's bedchamber for a new gown. The healers have yet to arrive though, probably getting their instruments or herbs, or other materials toperform theie service.

Theowyn takes the blanket from Gherta, and leads Elyse a few steps to the bench. He first lets the blanket drop upon the bench, and then he brings Elyse within his lap guiding her with the hand about her waist. She'd feel the other arm support her back while he slips her within the lap. Then the blanket would snap lightly in the air and the lightly float around her shoulders and over her body. The brief brush of air would be soon met by the warmths of their bodies beneath the blanket. Theowyn sets the banket about his shoulders. "The Wisdom have been called, they will take away the pain," he urges quietly, his breath suddenly found near her ear and against her cheek before her further settles her back into the solid muscles of his chest. "You are safe now, that is all that matters, my dearest Princess."

She moves . . . stiffly, shakily, more awkward than usual at having to contend with both her lack of sight and her pain, but she does move willingly to be cupped within Theowyn's warm embrace, the blanket settled easily around her shoulders. She leans again against him, her head nestlling comfortably in the crook of his neck and shoulder, one arm wrapping around his back, while the other resumes its place on his chest. She sighs contentedly, and its likely that her heart can be felt slowly lowering its adrenaline-increased pace. With her honey-blonde tresses dancing in the wind, she finally closes her unseeing eyes and murmurs, "I am safe now because of you . . . because you were here . . . Thank you." she speaks softly, drawing her knees up a bit closer, within the blanket as she settles more into Theowyn's lap.

"Princess..." Theowyn nearly said more, his thoughts capturing his emotions before they are spoken. Intead, his fingers move beneath her chin, enough so he may lift her lips closer to his own. What he won't dare to speak, he will express within the kiss, his lips lightly touching upon Elyse's as he furthers her into the deep embrace. Theowyn's lips linger with the slightest of touch, yet that passion that he's feeling inside shows. The blanket about her, the body heat from them both, keeps them comfortable against the spring chill, and as the kiss ends, his lips barely lift away from hers.

"Oh . . . my Prince," Elyse breathes, clutching at Theowyn's chest a bit more tightly as he releases her from the magic of the kiss, her heartrate starting to increase once more, but for a different reason. She leans her lips up to meet his once more, a shiver of delight going through her spine. So lost in the magical chaste kiss she does not notice the polite clearing of the throat by the arriving Gherta. "Beggin' yer pardon, Your Highnesses," she begins with her gaze averted, "The Wisdom have arrived." Elyse, does notice the voice, however, and reluctantly pulls her lips away.

It would be difficult to hide the depth of the second kiss, the one initiated by the Princess. His lips moist and wanting, moving with hers in their delightful and passionate dance. Theowyn's tongue briefly manages to part her lips before their passions are interrupted. The Prince is neither shy nor quick in pulling away, though he does nod reluctantly. His hands, hidden beneath the covers of the blanket now, puller her near, his fingers once again touching upon her naked fleshe. Naked flesh where there should be cloth... his finger slipping between skin and her dress briefly enough and perhaps without concious thought. "Yes, the Wisdom." Theowyn makes no motion to stand.

Elyse tenses at the intimacy she is unfamiliar with, her physical desire warring with her emotional insecurity and inexperience. Her grip tightens to where she is actually clinging to Theowyn, and her knees lock together, legs tense and shaking a bit all at once. A thrilling chill passes through her, but she makes neither protest, nor encouragement for Theowyn's caresses beneath the blanket to continue. Her nervousness, however, and the uncertain expression might be taken for apprehension. Poor virgin Princess is at a loss. Finally she repeats, "The Wisdom," but, too, makes no move to depart from Theowyn's embrace. Gherta curtseys once more and departs, this time, closing the doors to the balcony, allowing the couple a moment's privacy before they enter, and using the chilling spring weather as an excuse to close the doors.

The unconcious movements of his fingers continue within her dress, though soon they stop as he finally nods in the words that will lead to his retreat. "It will be best if I let the Wisdom tend to you in private, they may wish to examine the wounds. I'd certainly be assured away with great appology otherwise." The amusement in his voice is rich, though there is that note of longing and passion that still holds.

Elyse continues to clutch against Theowyn's chest, "Don't leave," comes her whispered request, "Not yet." There is a pause, "I've had worse scrapes when learning to walk around my nursery. These can wait." She attempts to sound strong for the latter comment, "I still haven't heard what the honor of tonight's visit is about . . . " she smiles slightly, still pressing herself against his strong chest.

"I yearned to see you," the prince answers truthfully, his breath once again near her cheek. The embrace is far from satisfying, more teasing of what could be. He wants her closer to him, though not completely realizing what that 'closer' would be, only knowing that they are still too distant, even with her so tightly pressed against his body within his very lap. "And in that yearning I failed in provided a suitable excuse for such a meeting, only knew what my heart required." The words are whispered, filled with his warmth.

His words stir her to action once more, lifting her lips to seek his where they had whispered such enamourous sentiment, hoping to find them in her blind search, "Oh, Theowyn," she murmurs, stripping him of his title not to debase him, but to infer an acceptance of a less formal relationship--considering where his hands caress, it's shouldn't be entirely unexpected, "I wish I could be with you every moment of the day." There is pain in her voice, though whether tis from heartache at their separation, or from the cuts and bruises across her legs its difficult to say. Its apparent, she'd like to say more, but is holding back.

Theowyn finds ecstasy within her words, of the emotional variety. It a confirmation of what he feels, the longing there so clealry in place. And as her lips seek to find his, they do. Somehow the stripping of the title did further release the barriers between them. Theowyn's lips are hot upon hers, eager, the kiss is not forward but it is more so then before. His tongue beginning to teach Elyse the dance one could play, seeking out hers to meet within her lips, as an arm about her shoulder draws her deeper within the kiss. Theowyn leads her head to the side just enough for their lips to part further, the kiss suddenly perhaps more heated and passionate then he had intended. But to have the woman of his affections, the woman he is beginning to realize he loves, to have her within his laps beneath the covers of the warmth blanket stirs emotions that simply flow unhindered.

Something in the passion, in the grasp the Prince has on Elyse, in the way he gently probes for her tongue, in the way he shows her a deeper expression of a mutual feeling between the couple, something in the complexity of the intimate scene stimulates a more passionate response from the inexperienced Princess, and though she is tentative yet to heed Theowyn's guidance, his urgings, the heat in the kiss she returns is certainly equal to his own, and might be surpassing if she honestly knew what she was doing. Losing herself in the arms of the man she has come to realize as the man she loves, through and through, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, the man she is beginning to realize she is in love with, she curls more in his lap, relaxing her tense muscles due to uncertainty, even considered lounging now across his lap, her bosom pressed against him as she returns the passionate kiss, now fully understanding the beautiful dance tongues that can perform . . . she's better at it than dancing with her feet, to be sure.

The passionate dance of their tongues continues, her bosom pressed against his chest only furthering the excitement the man feels. He shifts her briefly within his lap, the shifting necessary for his all too natural physical response to their shared moments together. Though he attempts to make his shifting unobvious, and for her inexperience she may not notice the man and the response he shows. Heated as it is, the kiss is driven by both love and passions from within Theowyn, his tongue circling about hers. And then, the kiss comes deeper yet, reaching a last level as he does intend to part her lips fully, his fingers slowly massaging through the back of her hair now. The other hand is still about her waist, now his fingers stretching against the material of her dress, and pulling on her as they curl in repeated motions.

A soft moan of pleasure escapes her sweet lips, along with a murmured but emphatic, "I . . . love . . . you," as she continues the heated kiss, her hand on his chest slinking upwards to tease the hair at the nape of his neck with her slender fingers. Elyse's own arousal would seem evident to any who would see the erect nubbs beneath the simple silk garment covering her bosom. His eager kiss, and the further parting of her lips is not regarded with further apprehension, but full lustful desire and passion as she loses herself to the magic of the moment, allowing her natural instincts for such behaviour to take over. So deeply involved she does not hear the creaking of the balcony door open. Gherta's eyes are wide with near shock, then quickly averts them, clearing her throat again, a bit louder than last time.

The kiss must end, truly it must, otherwise Theowyn would carry her off into her bed-chambers and make love to her with the yearning of his heart. Lust and love combine in such a sweet embrace, and that is found within the Prince as well. The hungry kiss, hot and wanting of her, the way his hand tries to strip at her dress without actually doing so. But it does end, with the clearing of Gherta's throat. Theowyn does pull away from the kiss, his lips lightly taking to hers as their moist lips seem briefly bonded together. "The Wisdom," he reminds them both, the wanting breath he releases is all too telling of his thoughts. He wants to feel her against him, against the passions she had stirred inside, but he does not, and he does not pull her away from their embrace.

Breathless from the exertion, and her own swift beating heart, Elyse nods somewhat sadly, then a smile curls slowly at her mouth, "I'm not certain I can carry my own self in there for the Wisdoms' attention . . . after . . . that," she blushes, perhaps more deeply than she has ever, "Will you come to see me tomorrow?" she asks, hope full in her voice, not bothering to disguise it.

"If not tomorrow, then the next." Theowyn shows regret in his eyes, though he tries to offer a warm smile in return. "I sometimes finish late in the evenings, late enough for much of the staff to already be in bed," the prince explains quietly, his forehead finding a place against hers as his eyes look into those which she can not see out of. "But I will do my best, for the feelings are returned." But for those last words, he shifts so that his whispers could only be heard by her.

Elyse smiles warmly, offering a wistful sigh as she is nestled in his arms, then another sigh that is less wistful and more regretful, "I suppose I shant keep them waiting. And I'm sure I'm too cumbsome for you to carry, My Prince." Her chukckle comes out liltingly, and she starts to slowly try to unravel herself from Theowyn's grasp in his lap.

Theowyn does not release her that easily. "You wish me to carry you, Princess? I would do so, but feared it would spread the most wonderful rumors." There is a light humor in his voice, as he keeps them at bay a little longer so their arousals would not be as physically noticed once entering the room.

Elyse doesn't struggle against the Prince as he continues to hold her. Once he establishes that he doesn't intend to let her go, at any rate. A smirk appears on her flushed expression, "I daresay its too late for discretion, now, my Love," she whispers, moving her hand from the back of his neck to trace along the line of his jaw . . . she'd love to memorize the feel and shape of his face, but doesn't dare ask, here or now, but the longing might be seen in her expression.

Theowyn takes the challenge in most agreable form, and as he lifts her lithe form from the bench they had shared, the blanket serves well to cover both his hands and her to a state of decency. Theowyn's lips do approach near her hear, as he continues the whisper. "My love, our road is clearer now," is all he speaks before taking Elyse within the room where the Wisdom is to see her. Theowyn gives Elyse no chance in response, not until he begins to place her down into the sofa, their features coming together as evident by his breath on her cheek. But now they are at the watch of those that might be within.

Griping him more tightly as he lifts and carries her forward, Elyse only offers the natural tension a woman gives when being cradled in someone's arms--not too much, but not limp and more cumbersome with dead weight. She smiles rather brightly at the whispered comment, though makes no reply as she hears and senses the presense of the servants and Wisdom. Laid to rest on the sofa, Elyse does her best to appear dignified as the fretting servants and Wisdom move to tend to her, muttering words of comfort and offering various things to help alleviate her discomfort. Though she is settled there by Theowyn, she attempts to cling to his arm with her hand, making carious replies that she is well, indeed, and so on. Her other hand keeps the blanket around her and her smile doesn't disappear until the first flinch of her scrapes being cleaned. She bites her lower lip, squinting her eyes shut, sightless though they are, and she continues to try to hold Theowyn there, though more than one suggests to the Princess that he be permitted to leave and tend to his own business.

Theowyn maintains a proper appearance, giving Elyse support without his eyes even once moving about to the exposed flesh of her torn dress. Such sweet temptations it must be, to see the woman he wishes to marry, to see what hints of her sweet skin he could be someday permitted to touch. Yet he does not dare a glance, not in public as they are, and if he would do so in private he would say as much. A comforting smile is offered to Elyse, though the gesture furthered in his voice. "You will have me worry," he teases lightly.

Managing a tight grin amidst the smarting of the Wisdoms administrations, Elyse says softly, earnestly, "I'm sorry, my Prince . . . I would not wish it so," and relucantly, she starts to let go of his arm . . . she winces again, as another tear of her flesh is cleaned, but does not cry out for all the discomfort it offers, strong as a Borderlander she is.

"All the more reason for me to visit frequently." Theowyn's voice is half distracted, especially with her arm parting his. The deep breath that he must take is much to do about all those that are around, and the inproper goodbye that he will now need to share. Or rather proper one. He would not be forward, not within her apartment with her staff. "Princess, time for us to part ways I see? Rest will help heal, I am sure."

Elyse nods sadly while giving another start, her oversensitivity not being an asset at this very point in her life, "Yes, Prince Theowyn, but I do look forward to meeting with you again soon. If it please you." She smiles, relaxing a bit now that the Wisdom has begun to administer the salve, "And thank you, once more, for saving my life."

"It was a combined effort, Princess. Between your own strength, and the aid of the guard, we did manage a fortunate rescue." Theowyn includes her within that rescue attempt. The Prince has yet to part ways with her, though with another deep breath he does decide it best to do so. "Peace favor, Princess." His hand comes to hers, fingers moving in between to squeeze just lightly, yet by the touch his affections would be clear.

Tilting her head to listen as Theowyn departs, Elyse offers softly, "Peace favour your sword, My Prince." Then issues forth a wistful sigh.