synthneon | FF PSL | ❝ for those we can yet save. ❞

Entry tags:

FF PSL | ❝ for those we can yet save. ❞

AFTERGLOW

— hear, feel think. —

❄️ HEAVENSWARD

★ Ever Heavensward (3.0)
    — Ishgard Meetings, Part 2

★ As Goes Light, So Goes Darkness (3.1)
    — Unfleeting Emotions

★ The Gears of Change (3.2)
    — Heavy Hearts, Part 2

★ Revenge of the Horde (3.3)
    — Starlight Festival (Alkaid)
    — Starlight Festival (KP)

🔥 STORMBLOOD

★ IC Permission
★ IC Permission
★ IC Permission
★ IC Permission
★ IC Permission

BEYOND

CODE BY TESSISAMESS

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ She nods to his permission and also to what he had said. While all may not open their arms to them in Ishgard? Enough do that they can consider it a home. Of course, Aymeric himself also offered his home to them. She intends to accept his offer as far as he is willing to do so. While she has yet to say it and, perhaps she can never work up the nerve to do so, she loves him deeply.

Alkaid lays herself against him, her head resting against his shoulder. Her arm drapes over him as her hand rests on his healed injury. After a moment her eyes close and the tips of her fingers again light with a green light. They slowly move up, then down, to the side, then the other. She lets the aether be directed to where it might flow to where the muscles and tendons are still clenched and twisted. They healed the wound and damaged the repair... but she can certainly tell the difference in approach between the Gridanian Conjurers and the healers in Ishgard. ]

It's a painful ache, isn't it? [ Her voice is gentle to the point it hovers over being a whisper. An odd mixture of speaking to herself, to him, and perhaps to his aether as well.

The tips of her fingers glide to a certain point before stopping. Then, they press against the fabric of the shirt he wears to push into his skin. She can feel the tension knotted in this area, and her eyebrows knit together even as her eyes remain closed. ] It's a deep ache... right here... all of it centered in this one place...

[ Her mint colored eyes open halfway as she believes she knows why. It speaks of injury--perhaps the place the blade pierced through his armor and into his person. It would explain why the tension is so deep. The injury of course healed and was mended. But, she would not say it was done of a way the body might be encouraged to heal. Rather, perhaps forced...

Aymeric speaks again and it pulls her mind from the thoughts of following his aether. She raises her eyes to him, keeping her hand and fingers pressed into the area of tension. How he can manage to make her heart feel as if it melts is something beyond her. A smile spreads on her face before she leans up to gently brush her lips across his. ]

Sharing your home with me is one thing; would you truly desire to share your room? [ She presses a kiss to his cheek then as she tries to keep his mind occupied. There is no doubt that the fingers pressed cause discomfort and intensify his aches. Yet, she aims to remove the source of it as much as possible. ] I would stay here night after night as long as you would allow me to.

[ He opens his mouth respond, but as before, the light forms from the tips of her fingers and a sigh escapes him as she directs the flows of aether to where it is needed most.

At first, he simply closes his eyes, expecting to feel the ache wash away as she goes about her work, but this time, it is a little different. She warned him that it would be, but he was not prepared for the sensation that comes.

The muscles and tendons that were damaged by the knife are fully healed, of course, but they still remain tense and pinched. And although he is aware that her ministrations will only help, he cannot stop the almost involuntary reaction to the sensations of her fingers pressed against him and the flows of aether doing their work.

His vision tunnels briefly, darkening around the edges, and for just a second, he is back on that street, lying on the ground with the Count de Fortemps kneeling beside him. One hand moves to grasp the once injured area, but Alkaid's hand is already there, and his hand brushes against hers. It is that contact with her that brings him back to the present.

When Ishgard's healers saw to the wound, their goal was repairing the damage and seeing him back on his feet as quickly as possible. And of course, they succeeded, and he has never had even one ill thought directed towards them. They did the best that they could, and he reasoned that any lingering effects were just something he would have to come to terms with.

Fortunately, the kiss that she has planted against his cheek provides him with a distraction, something else to focus on besides the aching in his side. He tries to keep his voice from sounding too strained, but he is certain she won't be so easily fooled. ]

Of course I would. [ He moves his hand, lightly closing his fingers around hers, not wanting to disrupt her as she works, but the reminder that she is there with him helps ground him. His words are more clipped than he means them to be, but he does his best to rectify that with what he says next. ] I have never had anyone with whom to share my possessions or my living quarters, and...

[ He pauses then to draw in and then let out a breath before he continues. ]

To share that which I have inherited with another can only be seen as a good change, and a blessing as well. [ He gives her a warm smile then, and he gently squeezes her hand. ] For as long as you wish to stay, consider this room- even this entire estate, at your disposal.

[ Her half-open eyes watch his reactions. A frown takes her face, noting the discomfort--no pain--he tries to hide. Her hand remains steady, used to the idea of those she heals grabbing onto the source of what causes their pain to increase. Part of her cannot let go of the fact that perhaps this may have been avoided if they had simply allowed her to heal him...

She cannot undo the work of the healers, as much as her pride of a white mage wishes she could. All that she is capable of doing is untwisting the tension and ease the muscles so his natural aether will flow through the healed wound site once more. It will twist and turn again; knotting itself up and causing aches and pains. The cold climate and the stress that comes with his position will certainly see to it.

Her eyes drift to their hands as his fingers curl around his. She continues her work, fingers moving ever so slightly here and there, only to press against him once more. Her eyebrows continue to furrow as she can feel just how deep the wound is. They must have been in a panic and a hurry to heal him with the state of Ishgard and looming war once more with Nidhogg. The wound could have been fatal if but a fw more notches in a certain direction. ]

Then, I am honored to be the first.

[ She means every single word--even if she wonders if she might be the only one. No doubt that once Nidhogg's war is over and his attention can drift to other matters of his life he might find another. One that he could spend more of his life with, to raise a family with...

Alkaid closes her eyes once more to push the thought away for the moment. Her ears lower slightly as she briefly puts all her focus on the healed injury, allowing the aether to not only flow into the muscles more, but to learn of what his own needs. Her head tilts to the side, the pink edges brushing against him as she does. ]

This place--this is where the knife cut. [ Where they hurt him; tried to kill him. ] Here... and it didn't cut side-to-side... it went down, and further in...

[ Perhaps it is strange to him she might learn so much from merely directing and listening to the aether. Yet, that is exactly what conjurey as an art is. Listening, learning, moving, taking and giving. The base skills can only be known to help master white magic. Not that this requires the higher skills of that magick.

Her eyes remain closed as she leans in again to press a kiss to his forehead in apology. It would be easier if she could touch the scar directly, but she would not ask him to do such a thing. Instead, the edges of her first two fingers push against the scar quickly. Her other hand comes to rest at the top of his head, fingers combing through his hair to try and ease him as best as he can. ]

It wasn't aimed to scare or intimidate... it was aimed to kill... to take you away--[ from me, she manages to stop herself from saying. ]--they missed, failing to strike... and instead merely managed to cause such an injury. [ Her head tilts down to rest her forehead to his as her fingers move down slightly. ] So much pain... pain they couldn't take away, only cover in their haste... because they were scared that they might lose their Lord Commander... their leader...

[ She was scared too; horrified at the idea that she might lose him when he was not hers to lose. ]

You were scared too, deep down, where they couldn't hear... you still are... of so many things. They all bundle and twist and knot here... in this place. The one place where they could strike past your armor and hurt you... [ Her head tilts just enough to kiss his temple lightly. ] Tell me what frightens you most at this very moment, my love. Let it out, let it flow freely, so you might find reprieve of it.

[ Of course, in another state, she would of stopped herself short of so opening calling him such a thing. Yet, her mind is focused on the task of mending and comfort. As she listens to the injury and the disrupted aether, her heart is open as well. Anything he might ask would be answered freely without notice. ]

[ Perhaps it is merely his body reacting to the pain radiating from the area she is working on, but the passage of time seems to be acting oddly. Of course he knows where he is: inside his family home, in his room with her beside him. But his mind keeps flashing back to the night of the attack, reliving scenes from that night filled with chaos and uncertainty.

It is a confusing blur of scenes that he dimly remembers, such as being carried from the street to the healers, interposed with her talking to him as she continues her ministrations. Wanting to dislodge those memories and focus on what is actually happening in the present, he shakes his head once, hoping to clear the fog swirling in his mind.

But she continues speaking, the flow of her words washing over him, and it seems as though his mind is determined to ensure he relives the moments following the attack. He cannot remember all of it with any sort of clarity, but one thing stands out to him as she continues with the stream of words. It is only in his mind, of course, but as her fingers press against the scar, even though the action is quick, it feels to him that a flame has just burst from the scarred area. The one thing he remembers clearly from that night is the moment the healers drew the knife from him, and it seems that that is what his mind has chosen to replay for him.

Instinctively, he tenses, moving to curl in on himself as if that will lessen the pain his mind is forcing him to experience again. It is not only a physical pain from the wound, but something deeper, more internal and quite personal. He has never spoken of it to anyone, but the more Alkaid speaks, the more his repressed thoughts and feelings seem to be drawn from him. But even as he wrestles with his fears and feelings, one thing still stands out to him: my love, she said. In the swirl of emotions that he is doing his best to navigate, he clings onto those words as if they are a lifeline.

His voice is low, the words hushed, but the room is relatively quiet, except for any sounds she might make and the sound of his quiet but slightly labored breathing. ]

I have never wanted anything but to protect Ishgard and her people, whatever the cost to me personally. [ She might notice the way emotion threatens to choke the words he is trying to say, but he does his best to push through and continue giving voice to what caused him fear then, and hurt as well. ] Although the healers did their work quickly and as well as anyone could hope for, I- When I was able to stand once again, I feared going before the people once more, not because I feared another attack, but because...

[ His free hand clenches into a fist, and a mist forms unbidden in his eyes that he wishes he could hide from her. ] Were my own decisions so misguided and focused on the wrong things that the people felt the better outcome was to see me removed from the leadership entirely?

[ He only did what he thought was in the best interests of the people, and although he cannot speak to the motivations of the one who attacked him, he wonders if perhaps that was not a representation of the people's thoughts as a whole. Would they rather have another in power? ]

One person may not always be representative of the thoughts of a whole, but what if that was the message they were trying to convey, and I, caught up in what I thought was the right course of action, failed to see it before? Ishgard is made up of more than simply nobles and those with vast fortunes to their names.

[ This responsibility does not land solely on him, because the delineation between the rich and the poor has existed for far longer than he has held his positions, but he cannot help but feel as the present leader, it is also a failure on his part that he has done nothing to see to the needs of everyone, noble and commoner alike. ]

Edited (whoops Aymeric has a lot of feelings ) 2022-02-01 20:34 (UTC)

[ He curls to the side, and Alkaid stiffens just a moment. She looks down at him, noting the pain that crosses his face. Her expression softens. She cannot help but wonder if this is the right thing to do. The injury and the flow of his aether say it is. Yet, that does very little to aid in the fact she must watch him speak and move in such pain. Had she known that all the trauma nestled in the injury? She would have suggested this for another time or during the day. Now that she has started? She cannot stop, and that merely makes her heart sink more.

She pulls herself to sit up properly once more as he shifts to his side. She positions herself so that her hand may still be on his wound, but he can curl around her if he so desires. His head might find a place in her lap once more as her fingers still curl through his dark locks to try and ease him through speaking his fears. There are no words she gives to try and put proof against his worries and fears. He needs to speak all that this wound seem to embody - both physically and in his mind - and speaking to immediately soothe the words would do little good for him. She is to listen and heal, not to speak in his defense or abash what causes the fears. ]

Oh, Aymeric... my poor knight. [ Her fingers ease at his healed wound just enough to remove the pressure. ] You place so much on yourself... you internalize it... and all it does is swirl and swirl... knotting you up on the inside... until it cannot fathom being inside any longer.

[ Her fingers start to move gently again to encourage his aether to flow through the injury once more. She can still sense the aches and pains deep down. However, she can see how labored his breathing is and how his mind tugs away. Should this be enough? The pull from his aether still tugs at her own, begging for more. ]

The conference has caused you to fear too , hasn't it? [ Her eyes close once more as her fingers move in circles. Listening, hearing, making conjectures. ] You're afraid of yet another wound; a strike that would find its way once more through your armor... one that you feel you could not bare...

But, my love, you have another layer of armor. One that Nidhogg, Ishgard, the world, would have to pierce to harm you again... [ Her free hand reaches for the one of his that is curled ever so tightly. Fingers slide in between the space of his own and his palm, guiding his hand to rest gently over her heart. The shoulder of the borrowed shirt has once again slipped off her own, but she has yet to notice the near revealing nature of it all. ] I should have been there when they struck you... insisted more that they allow me to heal the man I love... now, all I can do is ease your knotted heart and help your wound... and never let them hurt you like this again.

[ Her tail lifts to drape around his frame as if to further cement what she has said. Estinien is not there to be Aymeric's sword, and thus, she will be the armor he so desperately needs. There is no doubt in her mind that K'thisru would agree as well, even if her affection for the Lord Commander is quite different.

Her head tilts to the side as she continues to listen to what he might need that he would not say. ]

There's more ... isn't there? Something else that knots up inside that keeps you from easing entirely... what is it?

Edited (BORKED HTML) 2022-02-02 10:58 (UTC)

[ Even as the healers worked to heal his injury, he had not known he could feel pain like this. Perhaps at the time, he was in something of a state of shock, which helped dull some of the pain, but now, he feels every ripple, every surge, and it is testing his ability to endure.

But at the same time, if she believes that this will help, he has no reason to think otherwise. He curls further in on himself as the pain crests, finally seeming to break like waves on the shore, but he remains positioned with his head in her lap. Her presence and her touch is still comforting, and he cannot help but reach out for more.

His words momentarily fail him as he struggles to navigate the swirling storm of emotions and fears, and his head dips lower as his breath hitches. The absence of the pressure on the wound draws a deep exhale of breath from him, but he still cannot tell if any of the aches deep in the wound have lessened.

The conference... The tension in his shoulders reforms as he recalls how events at the conference rapidly swirled out of his control. She is not wrong in saying that he fears sustaining another wound, but more than that, he fears mishandling the trust that has been handed to him as Lord Commander and acting leader. It seems to him that that trust is already on a knife's edge, and all he has to do is make another wrong decision for it all to fall apart, either to his detriment or that of Ishgard's.

She speaks of another layer of armor, and he knows what it is she means, but he finds himself shaking his head even though he cannot properly verbalize the words. Perhaps the swirling of his aether will carry enough of the meaning for her to grasp it. She is far more important to Eorzea than he is, and he will not risk her safety or her life simply to protect his. Another leader could rise up in his place, and who better to assume that position than Lucia, or perhaps Artoirel, if either of them so desired?

She, on the other hand, is irreplaceable, as is her sister, and the thought of harm coming to either of them causes an even deeper pain to form in his heart. The hand that she has drawn to rest over her heart tightens against hers, and against his will, his shoulders begin to shake with a rush of emotion that he cannot manage to hold back. ]

[ Alkaid smiles gently at him, fingers slipping between his as his hand clutches hers. She hardly needs to attune to his aether to understand the meaning of the notion. A kiss is placed to their joined hands, her lips lingering on their digits. The arrant thought strikes her that seeing their hands entangled is an act that should happen on a daily basis. If she could only be with him as someone he would court, instead of their odd limbo of perhaps being together but not truly being as such.

The fingers at his scar spread out, moving so that her hand may gently rest against the site. She can feel that the contention inside has peaked and broken, finally allowing the muscles to relax. The aches are still present, but now perhaps due to fatigue of being tense for so long. Alkaid lets out a long exhale as she allows her whole hand to be enveloped in the green white tinged light. She gently massages his side with her fingers, channeling her own aether now into the site of the wound. She aims to further relax him and now ease his pain of all forms he is in. Now, perhaps, he might be more responsive to her healing with the wound -- metaphorically -- is open. ]

I know it is difficult to think that things will work themselves out... and that things certainly must be at their bleakest. [ She fingers continue to move side to side, her palm gently resting above his scar. ] Yet, deep down, past all this pain... is the hope you have for the city you love so much. There's the strength to see that hope manifest into reality... but we must get through the pain first with that strength...

Don't feel as if you are weak because you bleed, or because you are human. Understand that you are, and use that to your benefit. While your leadership is temporary... lead them with not just the stone and steel that Ishgard is made of. Remind them of the heart that beats behind the walls--your walls--and teach them the emotions that drive one to protect and fight outside of merely the loss, the suffering, the pain.

[ Her eyes half-open again once more, eyes going down to his with a gentle smile on her face. Her hand squeezes his as the other continues to gently rub his side. ]

[ Truthfully, he wants nothing more than to spend as many hours as they can manage together, with nothing and no one coming between them. He wishes to get to know her better, and for her to know him... That she would learn more about him than his own internal struggles. Because it seems to him that that is all she has seen so far, and he cannot imagine how or why that would endear him to anyone. He wishes for her to know that he is more than that, that so long as she is willing, he would give her all the kindness and love that he has.

When she begins to massage the site of the injury, he also lets out a long exhale. The sharp pain that threatened to pull him away from her has finally subsided, replaced by a duller sort of pain. At the very least, it is easier for him to bear. Once again, her words wash over him, but this time, he is able to focus on what she is saying and how she says it. Her voice has a way of comforting him, of easing the tension that has been a constant companion, and he wishes that they could be together like this always.

He would even shoulder the worst pain imaginable if it meant that he could hear her voice and feel the touch of her hands. ] I have no doubts that things will work themselves out, and that Ishgard will be free of this war and strife. But-

[ His brow furrows, and his expression shifts into a frown. ] Although I wield a sword, and although there are those who will follow my lead, I believe that Ishgard's salvation will not come because of anything that I have done or will yet do.

[ Some of the tension that he has been carrying has begun to fade, thanks to her touch and the aether she is channeling into his wound, but he still feels a current of inadequacy and doubt swirling around him. ]

You speak of strength and heart, but when I look to the future, although I have no gift of foresight, I do not see Ishgard's salvation resting in my hands, but in the hands of others.

[ He has suspected previously that it will not be him who brings peace to his people, but others who came to Ishgard driven by need, and along the way, became staunch allies and even greater friends. ]

[ Hasn't she seen more to him than that? A charismatic leader, one who cares deeply for those around him. One who fights along side his people and his fellow knights, who walks the streets of his city, who has opened his mind to the possibility of life beyond endless war. While he might only see his internal struggles at the moment? She has seen so very many sides of him already. If being able to see Aymeric without his titles means helping him navigate his tormented heart? She shall aid him without a second thought.

The exhale makes her smile. That, to her, is a sign that the healing is working as it should. He no doubt will feel tired from it all, but, perhaps that will finally let him rest and not merely sleep. Her healing, as thorough and helpful as it might be, cannot truly ease or erase the doubts and pains in the mind. She can offer to help shoulder his burdens but that is truly all she is capable of doing. ]

The one who paves that path for heroes to walk is equally as important as the heroes themselves. They will do what you cannot, and in turn, you will continue to lead and help those that remain once the heroes are called forth elsewhere into the world.

Do not diminish your own role in all of this, my love. Your part and place in it is just as important. I wouldn't see you demean yourself so much simply because Nidhogg took advantage of a weakness.

[ Despite the odd positioning, she leans forward to press a kiss to the hands above his scar. She would kiss him proper if they could position themselves differently, yet, she can tell where his wound requires just a bit more aether... ]

[ After all the exertions from this evening, he feels bone-tired, but his concerns are not for himself, but for her. She must also be exhausted, because not only did she heal a dragon not that long ago, but she also has expended additional amounts of aether for his benefit as well.

And not for the first time, he finds himself wondering why she would ever love him, because of the two of them, it is clear in his mind who the stronger one is.

Protests and counter arguments form in his mind, and he would speak of them, but he feels as though she has heard all of them before. So instead of repeating himself once more, he decides it is time to throw all caution and hesitation to the winds, and do something that he wishes he could do more often.

Ignoring the twinge of protest in his still-sensitive side, he shifts position so that he can rise up from his position on the bed, propping himself up on one arm, and press a deep kiss onto her mouth. ]

[ She can most certainly feel the exhaustion pulling at her body. It was no small amount of aether dedicated to Vidnofir. The amount spent on Aymeric's condition hardly compares, however, the combination at the two makes her feel heavy in a way she is not entirely accustomed to anymore. She pulls from the ambient aether around her to avoid using purely her own... it is taxing nonetheless.

He moves to sit up and her ears stand on end with the tip of her tail following soon after. Her eyes are wide with the expression on her face that he ought to remain laying down. When it is clear he will not, she shifts to try and support his weight as much as she could. The hand at his side gently moves once again to try and help the twinge she can feel under her fingers.

The kiss takes her by surprise for only a moment before she is returns the motion. She parts her lips for him, inviting him in further if he so wishes. The hand entwined with his gives a squeeze. ]

[ Part of him wishes to merely lie down in hopes that, in doing so, she will follow suit and also resume her rest that he has clearly disrupted. But the lure of her being so close to him, and the desire to pour all the affection that he can manage into her, is far stronger than any exhaustion he might be feeling. Still, he knows that he will not be able to keep this up for long, and to push past that would be quite selfish indeed.

The longer that he remains in his propped up position, the more his side protests, some of the ache beginning to resurface, as if protesting his reckless actions. Still, he ignores it, wishing only to take what he sees as his bold first steps in bridging the gap between propriety and desire.

When she parts her lips for him, he hesitates for the briefest of moments, but he decides to let instinct take over, momentarily pushing caution away. The action is tentative and brief, but he slides the tip of his tongue to meet with hers, as if testing how far she will allow him to go. ]

[ She can feel how his side protests at how he leans up. Her hand gently rubs the site of it all, trying to give some comfort until he decides to lie down once more. He is quite stubborn the moment his mind had decided a path. It would seem that the stubbornness extends to even them.

While he may be hesitant, she meets his action with a sense of confidence--and a hit of shyness. Her tongue meets his to welcome the motion. Then, she parts only enough to lie down, the hand entwined with his tugging him to join her. There is a hint of redness to her cheeks as she smiles before kissing him again open mouthed.

The hand at his side continues to gently rub to encourage his own aether to move into the wound.]

[ He is completely aware that he should not push himself and ignore the warning signs his body is giving him, but he feels as though they may not have a chance like this again, and he is determined to not waste the opportunity.

When she moves to lie down, he follows, but he still has not fully resumed lying down himself. Encouraged by her response, he leans into the kiss, and this time, his tongue lightly grazes the tops of her teeth.

It's then that he realizes that any hurts he's sustained could protest as loudly as possible, and he would just completely ignore them in favor of sharing these intimate times with her. ]

[ She bends her leg, gently brushing it against the side that does not cause him aches. Then, she shifts so that her leg might help support his weight. While she is far smaller than him and it most likely does not help much at all? She imagines some must be better than none.

A pleased sound comes from her as he grazes along her mouth. The edge of her tail sways as her breathing hitches slightly. She shifts just slightly to nibble at his lower lip. The instincts at the back of her mind battle to take over, wanting to pull him in further and push the boundaries more. She tempers herself, of course, determined to let him set the pace and how far they go. ]

[ Being aware of how much smaller she is than him, he also tries to move in such a way that not all of his weight is bearing down on her, because- well, he might not have a wide range of experience with moments like this, but he imagines that would put a considerable damper on both of their moods. Still, he appreciates her assistance, because moving like this is probably not the wisest thing to do.

He continues his careful exploration, moving past her teeth and a little further in, but as always, the thought that this is not what she wants is lingering in the back of his mind.

Momentarily withdrawing, he asks: ] Is this all right with you? [ He supposes they should check in with each other along the way. ]

[ At the very least, he would of heard her made a sound that he has never heard. Almost a kin to a cat's tail being stepped on.

Her eyes open when he pulls away, almost a dazed look of confusion in them. His question takes a moment to register in her mind. Then, her head tilts to the side as she wonders why be might ask it. Perhaps she has not been clear enough in her advances?

Their joined hands move as she directs them back to her chest. The night shirt is still pulled down on one side, exposing a fair amount of her breast. She then moves her hand to press his against the exposed area. A playful smirk takes her face as she cannot stop the edge of her tail from flicking side to side.

Well, she is certainly direct now. ]

This is very all right with me, ser knight. [ Her eyes flick to the side in a playful ponder. ] It may even be a situation in which I may find myself biting...

[ Should that happen, he would be quick to shower her with apologies and feel immensely guilty for being so ungraceful, so perhaps it is best that he not lose his balance.

He knows full well that her advances have spoken quite clearly, but he still remains apprehensive and almost fearful that either his actions do not line up with what she desires, or that they are simply inadequate due to his lack of experience and practice with such intimate things.

But before he can further explain himself, she moves their hands and places them atop her chest. And he cannot help but notice the way her clothes have fallen or what has been revealed.

She might notice a slight tremor in his hands, not because of displeasure or nerves (although they are certainly in an elevated state at the moment), but because his desire to just give full rein to his passions is stronger than ever. ]

Biting, is it? [ He marvels that he is able to respond without a stammer or a shake in his voice. ] I see.

[ Lest she think that he does not welcome such a thing, he moves carefully, being mindful of both of their respective positions, leaning down just far enough to plant a kiss beside where she has placed their hands. ]

[ She certainly has little experience, even if it may seem the opposite. Most of her actions she has left up to instict--for which Miqo'te has many. The end of her tail sways as his eyes fall on her exposed breast, for which she cannot help but blush. A small voice in her mind has always thought but what if I am far from appealing if he saw me bare?

Her hand gently brushes along the top of his own as she feels the tremors. She does not mean to push or even demand he drop his barriers or step where he is not ready. All she wishes for him to know is that she desires him and hopes he does the same for her.

She moves to explain that very notion when his lips press against her chest. There is a sharp inhale, and he might notice how the knee at his side presses into his. Gods, how she would not mind him exploring her, but...

Alkaid swallow the sudden lump of desire in her throat. ] If you would rather rest...

[ Oh, if he had it his way, there would be nothing standing between them: no hesitation, no reticence, just desire and a longing to know her inside and out. And, well, if they should happen to shed all their clothes along the way, he has realized he has no complaints about that either. A part of him wishes to see her unclothed, that the two of them might lie beside each other completely bare, with all things that might represent a barrier removed.

For a moment, when her knee presses into him, he lets out a sharp exhale in response, and that part of him that wants to cross that threshold and finally begin to truly explore her does its best to make itself known. ]

As long as you are here, I do not think I could rest. [ And lest she misunderstand him and interpret his words to mean that she is being troublesome and keeping him awake, his expression shifts into a smile that is equal parts beckoning and teasing all at once. ] I wonder if anyone has told you that you manage to catch the eye in a way that is quite distracting.

[ Her eyes widen in worry at his exhale. Within a moment it is clear that it was not from pain or discomfort, and her heart beats louder in her chest. Her eyes flutter shut as she does her best to keep her breathing even--to little express. Some part of her clings to the knowledge he should rest with his tender side and the day to come, let alone the notions of what his culture surely taught him. The rest of her desperately wishes to let go and open herself to him as she wishes.

Would he think less of her or come to resent her if she did?

He is right to presume her thoughts as her eyes open with that very question in mind. Should she leave so he might find sleep? If she is pulling him from a much needed reprieve, then...

His smile causes her breath to catch in her throat and a blush to take her cheeks. The statement he proposed blanks for but a moment as she lays almost entranced by the expression alone. Her eyebrows turn upwards as she feels herself quietly losing the battle within.

Oh, yes. He had made an inquerey. How does she speak again--let alone breathe? ]

N-not as such, [ Her voice is lower than she thought. ] Several adventurers complimented me... but most sought to ask my hand in keeping them alive. This... you, I, I...

[ Words utterly fail her as she tries to put thoughts together. However, he is incredibly distracting, as the day she met him in Camp Dragonshead.

Seven hells. Does he have any ides what he does to her?

The hand covering his own trails lightly up his arm to rest on his cheek. The other at his side continues to gently rub the site of the wound. Her body shifts under him to encourage him as her control becomes a fleeting thing. If his look beckons her, then her look is simply begging him to move forward ... ]

[ Instead of pain or discomfort, it is a sigh of relief and pleasure, but also the sigh of one who wishes for more, if only he dares chase after what he wants.

And, to answer her question, he has very little idea of the effect he is having on her, because he is doing his best to navigate his own churning thoughts and desires, some of them far more daring than others. ]

Ah, I see. I imagine that if they had, and they were still present, or at least nearby, we might have had to have a talk. [ His smile edges just a fraction towards something akin to mischief, because he would not begrudge anyone who wished to compliment Alkaid or her sister. And, naturally, he is not the jealous sort, but given how he wishes for a closer relationship with her, he fears that he may very well have to have words with any who harbors notions of wooing her. That spot has been taken, or so he would like to think. ]

Tell me, so that I might do all I can to ensure this is a pleasing experience for you- Is there anything that I ought to consider off-limits?

[ He would just as soon as explore unchecked, but he imagines he would not be a very good partner if he did not attempt to determine anything she does not like or places she does not wish to have touched. ]

[ The flutter of her heart turns into a loud drum in her ears. Part of her cannot believe it is happening. Had she not aimed to simply comfort and heal him? How had events spun into this? Even as the logical side of her mind attempts to rationalize it all? The other side that speaks of instinct and burning desire is far louder and grows as the drum beats in her ears do.

There is something particular about how he phrases his statement that makes her cheeks flush and her heart clench. The idea of him looking sour at any who may wish to woo her is thrilling in some manner. While the term ownership is one that implies things she would not mean? Something inside her desires to be his... which, he has already offered his home, his room, his bed...

The usually bright tinted mint-green eyes darken as her breathing deepens. Gods. What has she become around him? Surely, it is an unseemly image and one that would not please him. ]

A stern talk... I would hope. [ She's practically breathless as well. How did that happen?

Then, a shake of her head to his question. She squeezes his hand still at his chest. The voice that stammered just seconds ago is strong and direct. ] Nowhere is off-limits. I'd have you everywhere if you would want it.

[ This certainly was not his intention either, but now that things have taken the turn that they have, he intends to just follow where they go, to whatever end. At some point, he knows that they will both have to sleep once more, but for the moment, his mind is on other things.

He watches her reactions carefully, looking for any signs of displeasure or discontent, but all he sees is what he believes to be desire, and he takes that as an encouragement to continue. ]

Oh, a very stern talk, as I must make my position and my feelings clear, lest anyone think I am not wholly resolved in my commitments to you.

[ And at her next words, his eyes seem to darken with a desire of his own, and a look of anticipation crosses his face. ] And I would say the same for you, should that be your desire. [ He sees no reason why any part of him would be considered off-limits to her, and he hopes that she understands that.

And again, he leans in for a kiss, wishing to pour all of his love and affection for her into it so that there cannot be even a shred of doubt for either of them that he considers himself hers, and no one else's. ]

[ If her cheeks could grow any hotter they would. Commitments? Of what sort? Are they truly a couple--is this what being courted is like? Her mind tries to rationalize it more as her focus slips between him and what it is he says. Whatever rational her mind may have tries to create disappears the moment his eyes darken and he kisses her again.

Her eyes flutter shut and she returns the kiss just as hungrily. She wants to be hisI, for no one else has caught her attention like he has. No one has ever made her stop to consider staring a life in a place not where her clan is. There has been no one else to make her accept there are paths outside those that lead her back to her childhood home...

The hand at his side finally begins to move, searching for the edge of his nightshirt while her knee still rests to his other give him support. Her hand finds its mark hesitantly slipping underneath to be able to touch his skin properly. Then, her fingers gently touch the scar from the knife wound. ]

FF PSL | ❝ for those we can yet save. ❞

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/rounds this as done!