<Countryside Ride - Dorothea/Carson - 1>

A rarity in Gilneas, the day happened to be relatively sunny and bright for once.  The sweeping landscape past the Shadowclaw Manor stretched through a thick expanse of deadened woods, but beyond it laid some relatively prosperous farmlands.  The wealthier Gilneans often took ownership to farms beyond their homesteads, and the Shadowclaw pack was no exception.  The Finnigan Farmstead was one of the larger expanses that Carson owned, though perhaps most valuable were the stables and fenced-off fields used to raise their native mountain horses.  Oh, and of course, there was the homebrew winery.

Off in the distance, a pair of dust trails slowly morphed into a pair of jet black horses, and subsequently their riders appeared as they drew closer to the farm.  A pair of cheerful laughs trailed behind them with the dust, and soon enough the horses skidded to a halt in front of a neatly-kept barn.  

From atop the larger horse, a reasonably fit-looking man dropped to the ground, adorned in a fine set of loose trousers and a button-up, white shirt, its sleeves haphazardly rolled up to reveal his well-tanned, hair-laden forearms.  A shock of short, once-dark red hair now shined a brilliant gray atop his head, only split by a black eye patch over his left eye.  A matching, neatly-trimmed beard shrouded his aging cheeks and chin, but all in all he would have been considered quite handsome among other humans.  "Need a hand?" he echoed gently as he walked over to his companion's horse...

... who immediately slipped from her side saddle perch without warning.  The man's arms shot out surprisingly fast to catch her as quick as he could, and despite shooting her a deadpan look, the brown-haired woman simply laughed.  "Oh don't give me that look, what did you expect?"  The woman in question looked back at the man with a pair of brilliant, aqua eyes, and a warm smile between two full, well-kept lips.  A soft breeze caused her shoulder-length hair to flutter in the wind, and a hand shot up to keep her wide-brimmed sun hat from blowing right off her head.  A thin, snow white sundress hung loosely from two thin straps over her slender shoulders, then cascaded in waves down her middle-aged body until its fringe fluttered just above her knees.  There were no sleeves to hide her soft, bare arms, nor was there shame in the long scar that drifted from her right shoulder down to her forearm.  The diving neckline of the dress showed off much paler skin just a few inches beyond her neck, and the sharp-eyed woman was quick to catch the man's gaze drifting straight to it.  With another laugh she reached out and firmly tipped his chin upward, forcing his gaze to meet with her coy look.  "I don't think you'll find anything that low just yet, daddy."

The man cleared his throat and quickly lowered his daughter to the ground.  "Forgive me, Dory.  I was-"

His words were silenced with a tender kiss, and Dorothea smirked even more deeply as she took a step back, giving Carson's hands a soft squeeze.  "I'm teasing, old man.  This is supposed to be [i]relaxing[/i], right?  C'mon, it's been ages since we've been here, and I never even got a chance to try any before... you know."

Carson waved a dismissive hand as he began to lead her toward the barn.  "Water under the bridge.  The pack's reunited, and the dark times won't be tearing us apart.  Not if I have anything to say about it."

Dorothea couldn't hide a small smile, her fingers lacing with her father's tightly to walk side-by-side with him into the barn.  Perhaps the term 'barn' was a bit misleading, for there were no animals inside, and a pristine-looking wine bar stood where bales of straw had normally been stored.  Shelves and fancy displays of wine bottles covered many of the walls, and a smattering of tables and chairs were strewn about somewhat haphazardly.  "Oh goodness, we have this place all to ourselves?"

"For today, yes.  It did not take much convincing to offer the employees all a paid day off, and every bottle is free to take, more or less," Carson explained, waving his free arm all around the room.

The aqua-eyed woman inhaled deeply, then suddenly sprinted toward the bar, planted her hands on the smooth surface, and hopped right over it as if it wasn't there, her dress fluttering wildly in the process.  "Look at these rosés!  Are these all Gilnean?"

"Not in the slightest," Carson echoed, smiling as he sauntered up to the bar and casually leaned against it.  "Should be a smattering of imports from all over the Eastern Kingdoms.  Might be a few from Kalimdor too, but growing grapes and the like isn't as simple over there."

Dorothea looked almost like a kid in a candy store as she sifted through the bottles, and it didn't take long for her to select one, pop the cork, and pour two large glasses of pink-tinted wine.  "Gilnean rosé, year -1,100.  This was their hundredth year anniversary bottle, celebrating the founding of Gilneas... they didn't even date it with the King's Calendar."

Carson smiled and took the glass offered to him, giving the wine a soft swirl.  "You sure know your history, sweetheart."

"I did a lot of studying for SI:7," she explained as she took her first sip, then promptly took a much larger gulp.  "I ended up getting a lot of the more niche missions that involved dwarf archaeologists getting into trouble, thanks to my history background.  In fact, one time...."

* * * * *

Minutes ticked into hours as father and daughter shared stories of their lives since their parting, and the midday sun began to slowly, steadily head toward the Western horizon.  Rarely were their wine glasses empty, and soon enough nearly a half dozen empty bottles were lined up neatly atop the bar... accompanied by a fit of shared laughter.

"I think not!" Carson roared jovially.  "It'sh not posshible for goblinsh to fly that high!"

"I shwear it!" Dorothea insisted with a dainty laugh of her own, waving her half-filled glass of red wine wildly... and in turn sending most of it flying.  "We had to retrieve him from the Forbidden Shea [i]*hic*[/i] and shomehow he was shtill alive, lucky for ush!"

Carson was just barely able to dodge her splashing wine, but Dorothea's snow white sundress had been far less fortunate, and a crimson streak now covered a good half of her bust and ran down to her abdomen.  "I don't think that will come out," Carson remarked with a light chuckle, pointing directly at his grown daughter's chest.

Dorothea blinked one eye, then the other, before slowly looking down at her wine-stained dress.  The red liquid caused the fabric to cling to her otherwise bare skin, adding a slight translucency to the normally-opaque fabric.  "Oopsh," she returned somewhat sheepishly... until a sly grin took over instead.  "Daddy... are you staring?"

Indeed, Carson's alcohol-laced vision had become fixated upon the stain, and it took him a few moments to snap out of it and look back into his daughter's eyes.  "Yesh... yesh I was," he admitted without shame.

"Oh really?" Dorothea echoed, and with a slow shift she leaned herself forward, planting her elbows on the bar and letting her heavy-looking breasts rest between them.  Compared to Diana, Dorothea had always been the more bottom-heavy of the two than anything, but since the birth of Warren II, her breasts had swollen considerably, filled with nutrient-rich milk for the baby.  It was immediately apparent that she hadn't bothered with a brassiere beneath her dress, and the new pose caused the thin shoulder straps to rise just a bit, then haphazardly fall down her bare arms.  Thin, pale lines were revealed where the dress had been covering her, and the peaks of two white triangles appeared upon her skin where, apparently, the top of a bathing suit had once given her modesty.  "Like what you shee, old man?"

"I do," Carson stated plainly, the well-dressed man shifting a bit atop his bar stool.  "But thish ish... not like you, shweetheart.  When did you get sho bold?"

Dorothea's coy smile faded just a little bit, although she did not move from her flirtatious pose.  "Daddy... part of why I wanted to come here ish... ish to shay I'm... shorry."
