Oh, its you

[Peitar]

A snort shot up through Peitar’s nose, much more loudly than anticipated since some of the clotted emotion in his throat worked its way dangerously near to free. He managed not to blow snot as he chuckled at her poked sensibilities. ”Other people shouldn’t say things like that, I’m allowed to say it about me.” Peitar was a warlord prince, true to the core, he didn’t do self-depreciation well. He didn’t take himself so seriously that a good joke had to be skipped over either. He liked that Lillian didn’t like it though, and wondered if it was more a case of her twitchy wing than his useless eyes that set her to scolding.

Regardless, she agreed to take his advice. No fussing there, or complaints. She really was a pliable sort of woman. Was that why she had left? Or was it why she hadn’t come back yet? It was definitely why he hadn’t let go yet. She didn’t try to fight him on that either. Her weight shifted into a more comfortable stance. Arms heavier around his neck as she leaned in. Even the short span of skin his face turned towards was allowed. In raider fashion he pushed the boundaries further. When she didn’t reject the skim of his knuckle to her skin he tried her wing. Lillian shivered in his arm but didn’t pull away or ask him to stop.

Her face went into hiding again. Peitar didn’t know the point of hiding her expression from a blind man. He couldn’t see her blushes. He could feel them though. The warmth in her body, the quicker pulse. It could have just been nerves, but her willingness to be cheeky suggested otherwise. ”Parent’s never said?” He asked, unsure if she even had parents. Lorivar had mentioned that the queens were childhood friends, and everyone knew that Ilithian’s parents were long dead.

The explanation was much worse than he had been imagining though. ”Oh.” All the hairs she teased at the back of his neck stood on end. He disapproved, of course. ”Those were cruel times.” He had never been condemned for his nature back then. Born to be a frontline weapon he didn’t know how to stop now. And he was too much a weapon for anyone to dare treating him cruelly for it. Lillian was a different sort of person altogether and he couldn’t imagine that sort of person that went out of their way to ruin any part of her for any reason.

Before he could channel his sorrow into anger on her behalf it was sapped away with tricky queen’s craft. He recognized the tickle up his spine. The soft easing of emotion that wrapped up his legs and towards his soul. He breathed it in to take the edge off of the sharp pangs carving out his chest. Touched his lips to her temple to breath in the physical scent that matched the Craft she wove. ”I never cramp. Maybe you don’t stretch them enough.” He suggested helpfully. It was the truth, though. His body was full of well used muscle fuelled by hearty greens and lean meats. Daily sparing and weekly hunting kept him in good condition. Except for the eyes, which she brought up again.

He turned his face down as if he could see her better that way. Felt the structure of her cheekbones under his lips. ”Why are we whispering?” He asked, a flickering probe reading the room. No one had come in. Dog had settled down at their feet. Nose turned away conspicuously. So it was that sort of quiet. He didn’t really give her an opportunity to answer. Face turning to fit the bridges of their noses together. Mouth tentative as he pressed it to hers. It was hardly the quick heat he was used to. She wasn’t that quick heat sort of girl. Peitar took his time, giving her plenty of opportunity to put his other eye out before he let his lips part to trace the shape of hers. He held her hip and ran his clenched fist from her shoulder to elbow, the cool crystal stroked along her skin until he was done. A breath separating them enough for him to hesitate diving back in. Nose to nose while he waited for her reaction; or to form one of his own.

[Lillian]

Peitar scoffed at her. The sound half choking and hollow beneath the ear she had pressed to his shoulder. Loud in the one near his jaw. How had they gotten so close? Arms keeping her steady in his embrace. One of his above the curve of her hips. Her own thrown over his shoulders like a cape. He did not appreciate her fussing. But that was not new.

Peitar liked the way she tended the land. The rest of it he preferred she leave alone. He didn't want any civility. And less scolding. Lillian couldn't help it, however. He was so obviously out of control. He and his merry band of trouble makers. They needed someone to see them to reason. To help them keep their emotions and bloodlust from running over. Like now. Peitar had emotions that needed channeling. Edges to smoothed, and Lillian could offered him more recourse. Different recourse. Comfort and compassion instead of more violence and pain.

So she let him hold her tighter and longer. Didn't complain or pull away when he stroked her jaw and then her wing. The sensation so alien Lillian didn't know fully how to react. Her body shuddering and her words freezing up inside. Peitar didn't mind. He had questions enough for both of them. Curious about all the things he couldn't see. Daring questions only healers ever felt comfortable asking.

Questions she wasn't sure how to answer. Wanting to be honest, but to protect cherished memories at the same time. Things Peitar couldn't or wouldn't understand. He was too fiercely Eyrien, and Lillian was still too new to being Eyrien herself. The hair beneath her hand prickled warning. Lillian pet them flat again and fed him a measure of queen's craft while she did. "Yes." She agreed, knowing arguing would only undo all the peace she was trying to give him.

He appreciated it, Lillian could tell. There was no fighting against her craft, and more easing into her body. His nose brushed her temple, face tipped toward her hair so he could inhale her scent. She knew it was often as comforting as her craft, and less imposing. Just the scent of queen, of balance. Lillian was used to such things, and this time she was not even a little bit afraid.

"I don't stretch them at all." Lillian glanced up at him. Mostly she could see the underside of his jaw and chin. She wasn't sure she could stretch them. Mostly she maneuvered them by hand as needed. And they did as they pleased, which was mostly to lay dormant down her back. Or to strike out on their own on occasion. Could she? Was that all Peitar did to keep his strong?

Lillian knew it was a child's dream. Palm flattening between his shoulders. On either side of her hand rose good, strong wings. There had been much trying when she was younger. Even desperate attempts. She would never, ever fly. Sighing she looked up at him, and Peitar was looking down, lips brushing her cheek bone and unseeing eyes appearing to focus on her. It made Lillian feel shy and exposed. Quiet seemed best. Safest. And Peitar teased her for it. His probes filling the room as he questioned her. His tone a smirk. Lillian couldn't see his expression.

Not in whole. Just in pieces as he pressed closer. Filling her vision until she had to shut her eyes. Nose alongside nose. Breathing mingling until she shut her lungs too. Freezing in expectation. Knowing before she knew what was about to happen. Intuition swifter than logic.

Not the sort of kiss she would have expected from Peitar. It was not rough or loud. Not even demanding. Surprisingly precise for a blind man, his mouth fit across her own quietly. Lillian's whole body clenched. Fingertips pressing into Peitar's skin, toes curling into her boots. Muscles tightening until her wings twitched again and Peitar's lips parted. Her own tried to follow them, air escaping her lungs in a little sigh. Her body tried to follow her breath up and out. Toes unfurling to stretch her upward and after him.

Shivering, her skin broke out in gooseflesh along the trail his memory crystal left down her arm. Hands sliding away from his back to curl over his shoulders. Lillian held on tight. Leaning in on the balls of her feet. She brushed fingers over his cheek, hand startling away as she touched the scarring, returning, tentative before she pressed a palm to his cheek and curled her fingers around his ear.

Blood roaring in her ears, Lillian knew this was just comfort too. Life after death. She'd seen it a dozen times. Partaken of it once or twice herself. It was just comfort. And lust. Lust that made her tongue taste the bow of his upper lip.

[Peitar]

”Never? Well, what have you got to lose? Even if you never fly, you won’t know what you can do until you try.” The idea was both foreign and understandable to Peitar. Eyes broken he was no stranger to being disadvantaged at what others did easily. Giving in and accepting that difference was the first step in finding a way to transform a disability into a hidden strength. It was easy to fall into the trap of always feeling disabled, though. The muscles might never hold her aloft but with practice she might get control of their sporadic spasms. He couldn't say, only a healer could suggest what was in the realm of possibility. Peitar wasn't even in her confidence enough to know if she cared to try at all.

Talk of her wings brought their bodies closer together. Peitar felt like all the hard bones in his body were turning to liquid. Easy and at ease with the stroke of queen’s craft in the air and Lillian’s acceptance in his arms. Not simple submission, which she was inclined towards. His touches did not make her pull away. Even when a wing stroke somehow turned into a kiss. The silence and strange mood in the room pressed in on Peitar until the unspoken expectation gained a form. Their mouths met. 

The kiss blossomed out slowly. Potent and poignant as he learned the shape of her features by the way they fit to his own. A tentative, testing sort of kiss that was full of the potential for passion. The pressure of her touch doubled. Papery wings restless again, matching the languid unfurling of Peitar’s as they drooped towards the floor. Her weight shifted forward until their chests were flush. When he broke the contact she chased him to get it back. All the confirmation he needed held in the strength of her toes as they lifted her towards him.

Peitar licked the subtle flavor from his lips, putting them back to her’s still damp. Lips plucking at the shapely curve of her bottom lip once he knew she was equally interested in continuing. He could feel the tightness of her breath as her hands started to cling. Of all the women in Askavi to find a coil of lust in he had never suspected Lillian. She was meek, shy and easily upset. A stark contrast to the bold, hungry spirit that consumed Peitar’s being.

”It’s okay.” He encouraged between kisses when soft fingertips brushed the rough skin on his cheekbone. It was not fragile, the way some scar tissue could be. Never tender or painful except in winter when it could get too dry. The healing had been done well, which was just a testament to the damage that had been there before. Skin blistered so deeply that some of the circles still remained in the taut scar left behind. He knew that it was hard to look at for most people. Maybe still for Lillian too. So he didn’t blame her for the way her hand pulled back. People never touched his face, not even bed partners. Surprised he hummed lightly when she tried again. Pores tingling at the nearly forgotten sensation. It was duller now than it had been before. Skin less sensitive but still receptive.

Receptive like Lillian who tested him back with a flick of her tongue. Peitar’s lips twitched at the tickle. Mouth parting to suck the fat of her lip between his own. His arm loosened so he could slide his hand back over to her hip. The curled fingers of his other hand brushed the back of her neck. A forearm pinning down the fragile feeling wing it crossed. His crystal vanished as he found a different sort of comfort. Hand freed he cupped the back of her neck. The sound of their kissing echoed softly in the small room while the rest of the eyrie moved on obliviously around them.

Wings lifting slightly Peitar vanished the overcoat he wore to feel Lillian with less layers between them. She was not as frail as his imagination had conjured up. The hip he held was firm under her skirts. She didn’t fold when he loomed over her to kiss a little deeper. Tongue sweeping in to stroke the edges of her teeth. He let his hand dip lower to splay over her butt cheek. Pulling them closer together there too, even though his spear was wary in its waking. The rest of him buzzed with the high of tasting her and Peitar thought that as long as he didn’t lay down for exhaustion to claim him, he could still be back with medicine for the injured by sundown.

[Lillian]

It was too easy to give in. His mouth silenced so much. Covering her own so that she could not complain or reject. Hushing not just Lillian's misgivings but her worries too. He gave comfort, as much as he took it.

Peitar was alive. He breathed when she breathed. His touch was warm. Leaving a trail of heat where he touched her, as if Lillian had been cold before he put hands to her. He was strong muscle beneath her hands. Strong body against her own. The pressure of her weight had no bearing on him. He didn't waver. Just took more.

Everything Lillian offered up, he took. Encouraging the hand at his cheek. Scarred skin strangely smooth beneath her palm. Ear tucked into the creases of her fingers as if she meant to tug it for all his naughtiness. Lillian didn't pull or pinch however. She clung and let him chase all the worries and sorrows from her, just as she'd been trying to do for him.

Comfort. Peitar was the last person she had expected to find it in. He was rude. Vulgar. And didn't seem to much care for her. Except now he pulled her flush. Cloak vanishing, palm pressing her hips to his. Knuckles fitting into the crease at the base of her skull. And Lillian wasn't afraid. Even when his arm pinned her wing to her body and he leaned in to kiss her deeper. Farther. The sort of kiss that promised more than comfort.

Now they stood at the brink of passion. Chin lifting, Lillian's lips parted, inviting Peitar in. Tempting him deeper. Her grip on his ear tightened, hand pressing into his cheek as she contemplated giving in to her baser urges. Of taking Peitar with her. Goading and guiding him in turn until they filled the storage room with the layers of their lust and its release.

A cough from the other room fluttered her lashes against his cheek and nose. Her body had settled into his hands, hung half suspended from his neck and held tight to his body. It was almost like floating. Drawing back, Lillian kissed him softly. Gently. Lips stroking his, and then his chin and unscarred cheek. Her craft wound itself into a tight spiral around them. Just in case. This was new ground with Peitar, and not all men dealt easily with rejection.

"We should pack these things away." Lillian felt unbearably sleepy, so she didn't let go of him. Fingers curling around his ear to smooth his hair away. Thumb stroking the strange texture of the skin across his cheek bone. It was... like but not like skin. Glossy was the only word Lillian could think of, but that was not quite right either. And she very much could not believe she was petting the face that had so frightened her before.

She peeked at him. Eyes sweeping his face as she slowly unhooked her fingers from his shoulder. Lillian couldn't help herself, and kissed him once more for being so good. Just a peck, quick and light.

[Peitar]

Peitar was surprised. With the situation, with the girl, and with himself too. The novelty of finding her so willing to deepen their kisses wore away the fastest. Replaced easily by that pulse quickening excitement he always felt in the arms of an eager woman. Even the setting seemed perfectly natural in the glow of comfort sparking into passion. Only his own reactions were left to give him question. He was not behaving out of character, but his body was. By the point of sucking lips and adventuring tongues he expected a bit more stirring. This was when he should feel the most alive! High on emotion. In the arms of a queen after surviving a cataclysm no less.

He enjoyed the kissing. The taste of her was lush and sweet like quality syrup. The way she held onto his bottom lip made his stomach clench and quiver. His hands did what he expected. Held her firm to his front while she fondled his ear in a way that traced invisible strands up his spine. But his spear refused. It sat languidly at half attention like a lazy feline. Maybe it would wake up, maybe, if things got interesting enough. Which was frustrating when all the rest of Peitar was more than sure things were plenty interesting.

Before he could attempt to will it into the hardness her attention deserved a phlegmy cough in the adjacent room shattered the intimacy of the moment. He could feel her eyes opening. The weight seeping back into her toes and off his shoulders. She let him down gently. Shifted away in a few sleepy kisses that left him breathlessly waiting for more. Mouth softly opened in hopeful anticipation as hers turned to other parts of his face in parting. The moment had swept them up. Now it dumped them right back into cold reality. ”They still won’t do much good without a healer to weild them.” He said, channeling his disappointment into words.

For all her words spoke an ending to the unexpected trist she held on longer. Slender fingers playing in the short strands of his hair. Fleeting caresses on scarred skin. He made circles on the plump buttocks with his palm. Couldn’t they drag the moment back into being? There was so little else he could do to feel right today. He didn’t want to let this one go. Lillian had shifted her weight now, though. A friendly peck replacing the heat she had spread through him seconds before. Peitar knew it was right to let her add more distance. He had never been good at doing what was right over what he wanted, though.

Fingers deft he hooked the front of her dress, tugging her back to him with a bit of force. Tongue sweeping over her bottom lip to judge the shape one more time, and mouth sucking it in for another burst of her flavor. The parting kiss would be on his terms. Hungry in a way he didn’t know he could be. Seeking out that same comfort that had taken the edge off the cuts in his spirit. And still his damn spear rested against his groin in a daze. Too confused by the sudden changes in circumstance to take his desire seriously. Not when his body had crossed the threshold of exhaustion so many hours before. With a final pop to break the seal Peitar took a single step back. The memory crystal appeared back between his fingers to fidget against the hem of his pocket where he rested his hands to keep them from clinging to her again. ”I should get going anyway or there won’t be anyone left to need healing.”

That drew back up the feeling of what he had left behind. Silencing the roar in his chest and the idle hope of an erection all at once. There was no mental picture to lean on, but the agony of distress had stained his barriers for days. His people were waiting. They were far from the sort that could lead themselves if he ever failed to return, either. The only person they could trust to take his mantle was packed under a tidal wave of snow. Thicker than Peitar was tall. Too dense for Dog’s clever nose to suss out. Too far down for even Peitar’s steely probes to delve. He tucked the ball of his thumb under his nose to sniffle away more loose emotion then shoved the dark ache into a n equally deep and icy part of his chest. Where it was less likely to hurt him. ”Ever heard the expression ‘out of sight, out of mind?’ The irony of that not being true.” He told her cryptically.

[Lillian]

Lillian's heart ached for him. For his people. The very people who had, briefly, been partly hers as well. But healers were scarce at the moment. With a whole territory crying out for help, Ilithian was hard pressed to spread her resources fairly. And as much as Lillian didn't want to admit it, she knew, as Peitar knew, a band of rebels would not be high up on the queen's list of priorities.

"I'll find you a healer." She promised him blindly. Foolishly. Lead by the taste of him, by the disappointment in his voice, by the gratitude she felt for the comfort he'd given, to make the one promise she had no hope of keeping. Ilithian was her dearest friend, but Lillian couldn't ask anymore favors of her. Not for Peitar, who never listened. Who still raided against the Dhemlanese. Peitar who tugged her back against his body.

Peitar was not done. The lazy stroke of his thumb turning into a capturing hand to hold her against him one last time. For one last kiss. Nothing sweet in parting like Lillian's had been. This was all hunger. Sweeping tongue and capturing lips. Lillian thought he might draw her right up into him and swallow her down. Surprise curled her fingers into the front of his shirt, the weight of her body pinning her arms between them as she leaned in instead of away.

Rising up, and up, and up. Her eyes were pulled close again. Shutting out everything but the tug of Peitar's lips and the tickle of his tongue. Lillian shivered. And her eyes opened as the kiss ended with the smack of broken suction. She blinked, falling back into her heels, fingers numb in the creases of Peitar's shirt. Helen's tail swept under her shirt, pulling her eyes from the warrior's face to the dog at their feet. It made her dizzy.

Clearing her throat, Lillian nodded along with his words. Quickly releasing her shirt as he stepped away, she smoothed her own clothes, which were only slightly rumpled from the conforming of their bodies. Peitar's shirt had taken the brunt of it all, but he didn't seem to notice. Of course. "Don't speak like that." She chided, because she didn't want to hear it. "Its bad for morale." Lillian added, fighting the urge to fix his shirt for him. Everyone would know, if they saw him, that she'd been clinging to him like a desperate fool.

"They're hardier than that anyway. And you've got supplies now." She reminded him, waiting for Peitar to sweep them away into his cabinet. Worried he wouldn't in a fit of temper over there being no healer to take home with him. Lillian worried about how he'd get home at all. Combing her hair with her fingers, she walked to the other side of the storage room, just to have something to do with her feet. "The curse of being a leader, I suppose." All of the agitation and despair he'd chased away was quickly returning.

Lillian so very badly wanted to fix it all for him. It twisted her stomach all the way up to her heart. "I'll find you a healer, Peitar." She repeated. If she had to kidnap one from Kaeleer, she'd find him a healer.

[Peitar]

Peitar tightened the knot in his chest. Let it pull and bunch into a hard pain that could explain away the skip in his pulse. Heart bounding over the way she spoke. Not because he believed she would find a healer. That was an empty promise. They both knew it. He just couldn’t put the jumble of emotions and thoughts together that would make the need for the lie make sense. The sincerity in her voice was a poison he worried would seep into her spirit. Tear away the last strands of contentedness in the small queen’s turbulent world.

He had walked into quiet desk work. Frazzled her into the action that should have been his responsibility alone. Now she was trying to feed him a spark of hope he couldn’t keep lit. Doable tasks interrupted by his existence. He had always been good at that. Forcing a forward push. Making others follow his momentum. Breaking the silence everywhere he went. Usually it was his intention. Having it returned on him tenfold was different. All the places he claimed left worse than he had found them, just as he had left a thousand battlefields. The very earth had finally reacted to centuries of soaked up violence; A match for his own pint up anger. Lillian was not where he wanted to spill over, though. At least not this time. He couldn’t go home to the job he needed to do with his mind preoccupied with Lillian’s conscience. Because she would work herself ragged to make the promise true.

Since he couldn’t slap any sense into her he tried to kiss a little back into himself. The second parting was better. A finality drawn out of it that her gentleness had failed at emparting. Peitar managed a glimmer of mulish pride at the moment she needed after to catch her breath. A breath that rode hot with scolding. He imagined he could hear her brow pinching in the middle. He could hear the way her lips pursed around the syllables.  ”Morale? I didn’t think there was any of that left to trample.” In Askavi, in the district, certainly not in Peitar today. 

She did make a good point about the stock of his people, though. They were strong. Too strong for the new Askavi. Maybe that was why The Darkness had seen fit to swallow so many of them up. How many of the raiders walked around the same as he did, wondering why they had survived when everyone had told them they were born to die on the frontlines? Did that make the avalanche a punishment for him or a reward for them? Closing his useless eyes Peitar tried to shake the thought out of his head. Focus channeled into probes he chased Lillian’s skirts as she walked away. Busy again with the business of supplying bandages that could at least keep out infection. He shifted a wing that started to prickle from sitting still too long. The tip dragged against the stone floor sending vibrations up to his neck and jaw. Clenching both he sighed heavily, listening to the sounds of her breathing and Dog’s tail padding the floor in gentle wags. ”Askavi has plenty of leaders without counting me in the mess. I’m a taker; people come along because they know I’ll share the excess. That’s what I do. Take what’s needed until it’s enough.”

It wouldn’t be the usual sort of raid. It couldn’t be with so many of his best fighters lost or laid up. They would have to be quick and quiet and hope the dirty Dhem were too distracted to notice. ”You’ve got bigger problems to deal with, Lillian. A few hours of sleep, a strong whiskey, I’ll get it together and figure it out.” The solution was there, at the tip of his tired tongue and hands that didn’t shake only because they were balled into fists. He already knew where the solution was, same place he always found it. And Mother Night had proven to him twice that death was not a relief in his near future. ”Stand still so I can get this all put away.”