Araatris: Rhese sits atop a pair of crates in the deep of the night, watching the few clouds illuminated by the Mother Moon wander slowly across her face.
Rhoelyn: The camp is quiet except for the couple of guards patrolling the outer edges. Still, the shuffle off to his right has him peering into the darkness.
Araatris: At a hint of motion, the black-haired sin’dorei hops down from his perch, landing lightly. He rests his hand on his dagger as he creeps forward.
Rhoelyn: The figure ducks around a crate and Rhese follows until they stop at a small box. They kneel and open a smaller wooden crate quietly.
Araatris: Watching silently, the druid rests a hand on another pile of supplies, putting himself along the most logical path out. He narrows his eyes.
Rhoelyn: He pulls two blankets and closes the box. Then he stands, turns, and freezes at the sight of Rhese. “T-this isn’t what it looks like!” He stammers.
Araatris: “Isn’t it?” The sin’dorei strolls forward, not subtle with the threat as he rests his hands on the hilts of his daggers. “Pray tell, what is it?”
Rhoelyn: The human swallows anxiously. “We wanted a couple extra blankets; it gets cold at night. Kaerryn denied our request, but I knew we had plenty…”
Araatris: Rhese sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering, “That woman… Very well. I will forget I saw you.” He waits until the thief leaves.
Rhoelyn: Scanning the area, he notes a figure walking out of camp. He frowns when he realizes it’s not a standard scout duo, but stays with the gear.
Araatris: After another uneventful while, the blood elf decides to amuse himself by nosing through the gear. He keeps his senses peeled as he peeks.
Rhoelyn: Blankets, clothing, food, and weapons are scattered through various crates, boxes, and bags. That’s not including the three locked chests.
Araatris: Rhese runs his hands over one of the chests, speculating. He lifts his head at an odd sound, but when there’s nothing apparent, he turns back.
Rhoelyn: The lock is simple, but he’d need the key. It was likely with Bahr or Kaerryn. He listens, but all he hears is the change of the patrolling guards.
Araatris: Thoughtful, Rhese abandons the chests for a moment and climbs atop his crate perch once more, an excellent vantage from which to see the camp.
Rhoelyn: He scans the quiet camp and finally settles on one tent. Rhese frowns as something moves. After a moment, it disappears inside the tent.
Araatris: Nysse’s reaction to the draft of cold night air is to shift in her sleep, cuddling closer to Rhesan. The little white pup hogs most of the covers.
Rhoelyn: “Rhesan…” The huntress tugs at the covers as at the same time a soft sound comes from inside the tents. She raises her head drowsily. “Rhese?”
Araatris: The figure that looms over her isn’t big enough, but by the time the realization sinks through Nysse’s drowsiness, hands clamp around her throat.
Rhoelyn: Gasping, Nysse grabs and pulls at the hands even as she kicks futilely. Kaerryn’s voice whispers from the darkness, “I will make you pay…”
Araatris: Though she hears Rhesan yelp, Nysse’s attention is locked on the human as she chokes. Her scrabbling hand encounters a sword hilt beside her.
Rhoelyn: She grabs it and flails even as she gasps for air. The human woman releases one hand to grab her wrist. “Oh! So he let you have a weapon…”
Araatris: Wheezing in a tiny bit of air buys her time as dark spots blink at the edge of the huntress’ vision. The human’s grip crushes her wrist painfully.
Rhoelyn: The tiny wolf growls and bites at the wrist around Nysse’s throat. Kaerryn curses and drags the “slave” up from the cot and out of range.
Araatris: Through her panic and desperation and fading awareness, Nysse feels something odd blanket her thoughts momentarily. Kaerryn curses and drops her.
Rhoelyn: Nysse tumbles onto the ground, gasping. The night elf struggles to her knees and scrambles for the exit. The human kicks her as she passes.
Araatris: The huntress doesn’t have breath to cry out when she catches a plate boot across the ribs. As she tumbles away, a dark form leaps on Kaerryn.
Rhoelyn: The dark furred wolf snarls and clamps his teeth on the human’s arm. She punches at him, trying to knock him away. “Get off me, you stupid mutt!”
Araatris: Undeterred, he wrestles her back, shoving her against and then through the fabric wall. The support gives with a crack, and the tent collapses.
Rhoelyn: Kaerryn growls and thrashes at the fabric, but the dark wolf is gone. She pulls her dagger and stabs and cuts at the tent to free herself.
Araatris: As the human gets to her feet, finally dragging herself free, a boot crunches beside her. She lifts her head only to catch a fist across the jaw.
Rhoelyn: Kaerryn staggers as Rhese slams his foot into her chest. Behind him, the guards cut open the tent to reveal Nysse. “I’ll go get Wrune!”
Araatris: The sin’dorei just growls, a very feral sound, and stalks after the woman as she rolls away, coughing. His kick across the ribs does less damage.
Rhoelyn: Leothir grabs his arm, “Rhese! Let the guards handle her. I…” He glances over his shoulder. “You should check on Nyssera.” Rhese glares at him.
Araatris: The disguised druid swings his attention back to the human, tense and barely under control, but Leothir tugs on him again. “I think she’s hurt.”
Rhoelyn: The false sin’dorei turns to Leothir. “Hurt? How badly?” Rhese’s gaze has already found a wild-eyed Nysse clutching her ribs and backing away.
Araatris: He forgets Kaerryn and his rage just that instantly, hurrying over to his forgotten mate. “Nysse,” he soothes, pale, false hands outstretched.
Rhoelyn: The huntress fixates on Rhese. Her lips move, but nothing comes out. When the guards close in on her sides, she flinches and backs away again.
Rhoelyn: “Get away from her.” His voice is even, but firm. “It’s alright, Nysse. I’m here. I won’t let anyone hurt you any more.” He inches forward.
Araatris: Infinitely gentle, he watches her carefully as he rests his hands on her shoulders. “Nysse, love. I’m here.” He speaks softly, just for her.
Rhoelyn: Nysse trembles, looking nervously around. She glances over her shoulder at the guards, then at Kaerryn, before finally stepping closer to him.
Araatris: Rhese wraps his arms around her, careful of her ribs. He cups the back of her head as she buries her face against his chest. “You’re safe.”
Rhoelyn: He ignores the pup whining at his feet and looks at Leothir. “Has anyone been able to get Wr-” The paladin hurries around a tent, following a guard.
Araatris: Wrune takes in the entire scene at a glance, frowning. From the way he looks at Kaerryn, held tight between two guards, he understands.
Rhoelyn: Grimly, Aron Wrune joins Rhese and Nysse. “Do you think she’s able to come to the medic tent? I think it’d be best to examine her in privacy.”
Araatris: The druid leans down by her ear, saying, “Do you think you can walk? It will probably be more painful if I try to carry you. Lean on me.”
Rhoelyn: Nysse gives a tiny nod and steps to the side. Rhese guides her slowly behind Wrune through camp to a central tent. The paladin holds open the flap.
Araatris: Once they make it to the quiet infirmary, Nysse winces and holds her ribs as she tries to settle on the side of the bed. Rhese kneels at her side.
Rhoelyn: Wrune sits on a stool in front of her. He gazes sympathetically. “I need you to move your hands.” She silently complies and Rhese grasps her hand.
Araatris: Rhesan whines and nudges at his knee, and the druid scoops him up with his other hand with a soft shushing sound. The pup strains toward Nysse.
Rhoelyn: Wrune examines her ribs before moving on to her wrist then her neck. “May I remove her collar?” Nysse reaches slightly to pet the wolf.
Araatris: “Let me.” Rhese sets the pup on the cot beside her leg and reaches around Nysse to remove the collar, letting his cheek brush hers.
Rhoelyn: She closes her eyes and leans into the small comfort. Rhese sits back as he sets the collar and chain in her lap with the puppy. Wrune frowns.
Araatris: The druid looks over at him, watching him finish his examination with solemn focus. When he settles back on his stool, thoughtful, Rhese frowns.
Rhoelyn: The druid asks, “Well?” The paladin rubs his face. “She strangled her. The broken ribs and bruises must have happened when she fought back.”
Araatris: Rhese growls and clenches a fist. “I should have hit that rotting, misb-” Nysse coughs and groans at the pain, paling. It pulls his focus back.
Rhoelyn: “Can you do something for her?” Rhese immediately turns to Nysse. “Would it help if you laid down?” She nods weakly. “Nysse, can you speak?”
Araatris: As the apparent sin’dorei helps ease her back onto the cot, she shakes her head. Rhese strokes her hair, grumbling, “Heal her, already.”
Rhoelyn: Wrune writes notes on a scrap of paper. “I needed to document everything to send to Relare. Let me see her again and we’ll get her healed up.”
Araatris: The druid nods impatiently and starts to move away, only to be pulled up short by Nysse’s grip on his leather vambrace. He settles back down.
Rhoelyn: Wrune focuses on healing as Nysse falls into an uneasy sleep. The paladin asks Rhese quietly, “You… really care for her, don’t you?”
Araatris: The druid doesn’t glance away fast enough to hide the tenderness in his eyes, though he scoffs and claims in his dripping accent. “Ridiculous.”
Rhoelyn: Wrune squeezes his shoulder. “It wouldn’t be a bad thing if you did.” He stands and yawns. “She’ll be fine. I’ll check on you in a few hours.”
Araatris: Taking her hand in his, Rhese almost lets the paladin leave before he softly calls, “Wrune?” The human turns back with his black brows raised.
Araatris: “… thank you,” the other man says. It earns him a benevolent smile. “She’s a good woman, Rhese. Not the kind you keep, but the kind you earn.”
Rhoelyn: The paladin slips out of the tent. Nysse tenses at the sound, opening her eyes to look around anxiously. She relaxes upon seeing the druid.
Araatris: Rhese turns back to the huntress, smoothing back her hair. “You should rest. You can rest. I’ll stay right here.” Nysse curls toward him.
Rhoelyn: The pup snuggles against her. The huntress grasps his hand with both of hers and asks in a hushed voice, “Are you tired? You’ve been up all night.”
Araatris: He nods, albeit hesitantly. “It’s not bad. I have a while, yet. How do you feel?” Rhese brushes her cheek with his calloused thumb.
Rhoelyn: “I… I don’t know. Confused. Scared. Shocked. I… I couldn’t even scream for help.” Nysse shudders and curls up a little tighter. “I’m sorry.”
Araatris: The druid’s brow furrows. “Sorry? Why are you sorry, Nysse? If anything, I’m the one who should be sorry. I wasn’t fast enough to stop her.”
Rhoelyn: Nysse grimaces. “You shouldn’t have needed to. You’re not supposed to need to protect me.” Her voice cracks and she squeezes his hand tightly.
Araatris: Rhese glances at the discarded leather and chain. “We’re both collared, remember? We have to protect each other while we’re together.”
Rhoelyn: She slowly nods. “Would it… would it sound weak to say that I want to be held? Or cry?” Nysse looks at Rhesan while she waits for an answer.
Araatris: He doesn’t answer until after he gets up and settles on the cot, gathering her into his arms. He mutters, “You can be weak with me, dalah’surfal.”
Rhoelyn: As if the words were a floodgate, the huntress clings to him and bawls unreservedly. Her soft voice rambles as wounds, fresh and old, surface.
Araatris: The druid holds her patiently, stroking her hair and her back through the storm of her emotions. Even Rhesan noses into the cuddle, whining.
Rhoelyn: Nysse sniffles and rubs at her eyes. “I’m better I think. I… needed that.” She smiles shyly at Rhese while scratching the worried pup’s ears.
Araatris: “I’m glad.” Rhese rubs her back, reluctantly looking at the predawn light starting to seep through the seams in the tent. “Maybe you should rest.”
Rhoelyn: The young woman nods and buries her face against him. It’s not long before her exhaustion overcomes her. Rhesan sleepily snuggles between them.
Araatris: For the first hour, he holds her, thoughtful and content. But as time wears on and the exhaustion on his face deepens, he eyes the tent flap.
Rhoelyn: His eyes are drooping when there’s a hushed voice at the entrance. “May I come in? I have food and news.” Rhese simply answers, “Yes.”
Araatris: When Faye pushes her way into the medic tent, the druid gently extricates himself from his sleeping “slave” and gets unsteadily to his feet.
Rhoelyn: She sets the food down on a table and holds out a letter. “Relare said to give this to you.” Faye looks at Nysse out of the corner of her eye.
Araatris: “Thank you.” He takes the letter, following her attention. “Nyssera is resting. Wrune healed her injuries. You’ve no need to be concerned.”
Rhoelyn: Faye nods. “So, she’ll be alright then?” The false sin’dorei nods. “I’ll probably let her sleep herself out.” Rhese covers his wide yawn.
Araatris: The seal on the letter cracks easily, and he unfolds the paper, falling silent as he scans the sinuous scrawl. He frowns and scrubs at his eye.
Rhoelyn: “He’s going to do what to her?” Rhese frowns. Faye clears her throat. “She will be doing supervised labor at the main camp. If that’s acceptable.”
Araatris: Rhese sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Finally, he says, “I suppose it’ll do. What about our tent? It’s really been a long night.”
Rhoelyn: Faye grimaces. “It was cut rather badly, so Relare has replaced it with one of his. It is set up in the central camp area when you’re ready.”
Araatris: “That’s kind of him.” He glances back at Nysse and her pup, cuddled on the bed. “Wou-… I want you to stay with her until she wakes.”
Rhoelyn: Faye nods. “As you wish.” Rhese looks back at her one more time before striding out of the tent. The slave settles herself onto a stool to wait.
Araatris: Leo saunters across the camp as the druid hurries toward the new tent. He grins and raises a hand to hail his friend when the other man stumbles.
Rhoelyn: The mage shakes his head. “Not to state the obvious, but you look exhausted. Have you rested?” He grabs Rhese’s shoulder to steady him.
Araatris: Forcing a little smile, the druid shakes his head. “I was just making my way back. I am quite as exhausted as I look. Not to state the obvious.”
Rhoelyn: “Well, I promise that you’ll quite enjoy the new tent. This way.” Leothir puts his arm around Rhese and guides him to a spacious tent with two guards.
Araatris: The druid forces more smiles and manages to say polite things about Relare’s generosity that he’ll barely remember later as he follows Leo inside.
Rhoelyn: Leo notes his friend’s tired answers and pats him, opening the tent flap. “Why don’t you check out the cot first. Do you want me to send Nysse?”
Araatris: Rhese kicks at his boots, mumbling, “When she wakes. Please.” The mage nods. “I’ll make sure Faye brings her over as soon as she does.”
Rhoelyn: “Thank you. I don’t want anyone else to enter besides Nysse. I need to sleep.” Rhese sits on the cot. Leo nods to the guards. “You heard him.”
Araatris: As soon as the tent flap closes, Rhese flops over on the cot, dragging the blanket over his head with a groan as he releases the sin’dorei form.
Rhoelyn: Hours later Nysse yawns and stretches. She blinks in confusion and looks around. Faye answers from out of sight. “He’s resting in your new tent.”
Araatris: “F-Faye?” The huntress shifts around, earning a protest from Rhesan, to find the other woman nearby with a plate of food. “I fear it’s not warm.”
Rhoelyn: Nysse gathers the wolf in her arms and sits up. “Oh. That’s alright.” She glances at the tent flap as Faye hands her the plate. “What time is it?”
Araatris: The slave settles back onto her stool. “The midday meal was about two hours ago. You’ve slept quite soundly since before dawn. How… are you?”
Rhoelyn: The young woman ducks her head. “I… Physically I’m fine. Wrune did a wonderful job.” She takes a small bite from the plate, not continuing.
Araatris: Faye frowns and leans forward, pressing her hand on Nysse’s knee. “We are sisters in Elune’s light. You don’t need to guard your tongue with me.”
Rhoelyn: “How am I supposed to feel? I woke up to someone trying to murder me. I couldn’t even scream. I don’t even want to step outside.” Nysse looks away.
Araatris: “I understand how you feel, Nyssera.” The other night elf shifts over to perch on the edge of the bed. “If it’s any relief, she is no longer here.”
Rhoelyn: The huntress bites her lip. “But how many others feel the same way? Is someone else going to try and kill me tomorrow or the next day?”
Araatris: Faye sighs. “If I were to promise you were safe, I’d be lying. We are Sunbane and slaves. There will always be some who hate us or hurt us.”
Rhoelyn: She pokes at her food and sets it aside. “It’s different. I’ve fought, but I’ve only felt that helpless one other time…” Nyssera stands suddenly.
Araatris: The other woman watches her sympathetically. “Would you like to talk about it, Nyssera? Sometimes sharing a fear helps to banish it.”
Rhoelyn: The night elf paces the length of the tent. “I don’t like feeling out of control. I… it’s a long story, but it’s why I hid in the forest.”
Araatris: “Dear girl…” The former Sentinel sighs. “Control is a luxury we do not have. Has your master been so indulgent that you haven’t learned that, yet?”
Rhoelyn: Nysse stops, flushing brightly. “He’s kind as long as I return to him… W-why do you say he’s indulgent?” She rubs her bare neck self-consciously.
Araatris: The other nightelf gives her a droll look and a smirk as she lifts her collar and chain from where they lay discarded on the cot. “Where to begin…”
Rhoelyn: She hurries to Faye and takes the items, quickly putting them on. “W-wrune asked him to take it off while I was being healed. Then I was asleep.”
Araatris: “There are many masters, mine included, who would never dream of granting such a request.” Faye gives her a little, sad grin. “He is kind.”
Rhoelyn: The huntress ducks her head and mumbles, “I’m sorry. I wish I could help.” She shifts awkwardly. “That’s seems silly when I’m a slave as well.”
Araatris: Faye stands and approaches Nysse, claiming a gentle hug. It’s not clear whether the hug is for her or for the huntress. “We do what we can.”
Rhoelyn: The woman sighs. “I’ve been ordered to clean you up, give you new clothes, and take you to Rhese. Are you sure you don’t want to eat more first?”
Araatris: Nysse eyes the plate, biting her lip. “Maybe I can have a… bit more.” She settles back down under Faye’s smile and tucks in to the food.
Rhoelyn: Shortly, under Faye’s guidance, Nysse bathes. Near the end, Faye clears her throat and retrieves a nearby dress of gossamer silk and gauze.
Rhoelyn: “It seems that Master Leothir’s way of apologizing for the incident is to offer you a gown from his…,” Faye grimaces, “personal collection.”
Araatris: Nysse’s eyes go wide at the confection, a dress that would be elegantly beautiful if nearly every fabric involved weren’t partially transparent.
Rhoelyn: The huntress is shaking her head and speaking before she can collect her thoughts, “I can’t wear that! Is it even decent?!” Faye stifles a laugh.
Araatris: “It’s not quite as unsubstantial as it looks once you have it on. Master Leothir has many gowns like this for R-” She stops as Nysse groans.
Rhoelyn: The young woman eyes the matching collar with emerald studding. “Did he really have a matching collar? What sort of women does h-” “Slaves.”
Araatris: Faye steps up to her, prodding. “Come, let’s get you dressed. I’ll do away with your other clothing.” Nysse pales, “Oh, no. I should keep them.”
Rhoelyn: Faye raises her eyebrows. “But they’re rather worn.” Nysse offers a shy smile, even as she steps out of the metal tub. “But Rhese got it for me.”
Araatris: The other woman watches her expression, her brow furrowing with worry. She says nothing, simply sets about getting Nysse dried and dressed.
Rhoelyn: Faye braids her hair loosely over one shoulder. She studies Nyssera carefully. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Nysse stutters, “N-no!”
Araatris: Though she looks skeptical, the slave pats her arm and says, “Good. There’s nothing but heartbreak in loving them. I’ve seen the damage it does.”
Rhoelyn: “W-what do you mean?” Nysse captures her hand. “I mean I understand that they could never… N-nevermind.” She plucks nervously at the fabric.
Araatris: Faye squeezes her hand. “Harden your heart. Even if he can be k-” “For the love of Light, aren’t you two done, yet?” a surly voice interrupts.
Rhoelyn: The other woman calls back. “Yes, Healer Nithan. You may enter.” A tall human man with short blonde hair pushes in. “Good. I have work to do.”
Araatris: The medic pauses to appraise them with a practiced eye before stabbing his finger toward the tent flap. “If you’re not sick or dying, get out.”
Rhoelyn: Nyssera bows her head. “Thank y-.” “Out!” Faye quickly guides her out. Nysse balks right outside the tent. “I don’t think I can do this, Faye.”
Araatris: “What will you do instead, Nyssera? You cannot go back into the medical tent.” She leans down and scoops up a startled Rhesan. “Just walk.”
Rhoelyn: Faye presses the pup into her arms. Nysse cradles Rhesan and looks at the ground as they cross the camp. The other woman sighs. “Keep your head up.”
Araatris: The huntress can only manage to shake her head. All her attempts to look up or walk tall just end up with her meeting the eyes of someone leering.
Rhoelyn: They stop at the entrance to a large tent with two guards. Faye hands Nysse her old clothes. “Go on.” The woman firmly pushes her into the tent.
Araatris: Nysse stumbles through with a squeak, Rhesan squirming in her arms. Just as she catches her balance, she trips over a discarded boot.
Rhoelyn: Unused to the extra fabric, she barely manages a controlled descent to her knees. “Ah!” The pup escapes just as she looks up into amber eyes.
Araatris: Rhese deflates, slipping his dagger back into his belt. “Light! You startled me.” He offers her a hand. “What was all that about?” He looks groggy.
Rhoelyn: “I t-tripped over your boot.” She takes his hand automatically and stands. “I’m s-sorry if I woke you.” The huntress gazes at their feet.
Araatris: The druid yawns and rubs at his eye with a fist, leaning down to kiss her cheek as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “‘S fine. I waited.”
Rhoelyn: The huntress looks up, flushed and startled. “Y-you were waiting? I’m sorry I took so long, but Faye insisted that I eat and clean up first.
Araatris: “Mmmhm.” Rhese groggily keeps her hand, tugging her as he turns back to the large, sumptuous cot. “Come to bed. I want more sleep. Still tired.”
Rhoelyn: “You want me in b-bed?” She staggers beside him and into the cot. Nysse sits down heavily. “Are you sure you want me in bed wearing this?”
Araatris: “Mm?” The druid pauses. “Wearing…?” Rhese blinks and scrubs at his face to wake up. And then he finally looks at her – really looks at her.
Rhoelyn: Nysse blushes. “Faye said that he wanted to give this to us to make up for the attack. I barely managed to keep my old clothes,” she rambles.
Araatris: Rhese silently brushes his hand over the fabric that makes a loose claim to the term “sleeve”, his eyes wide as they travel up and down her.
Rhoelyn: She swallows nervously. “I don’t know what he was thinking. I’m terrified that this dress is going to rip so ea… Rhese?” Nysse bites her lip.
Araatris: His expression is a confused mix before he finally looks away from her, rubbing at his face once more. “Give me a m-minute. I’m not awake.”
Rhoelyn: Nysse nods and, in a burst of nervous energy, takes her old clothes to the table. She then makes a bed for Rhesan using a spare blanket.
Rhoelyn: “I can’t believe L-leothir makes his slaves wear these gauzy t-things.” She sets the folded blanket by the cot and calls, “Come here, Rhesan…”
Araatris: As the pup comes over to sniff at the blanket, Rhese straightens from the cot and paces away from her, mumbling, “I… can see the appeal. Clearly.”
Rhoelyn: Nysse glances over her shoulder, blushing. “Sorry…” She stands and glances down at herself. “Is it… is it that… revealing? There was no mirror.”
Araatris: The druid turns to look at her, trying to be clinical despite how warm the tent feels. “All the… most critical areas are hidden,” he mutters.
Rhoelyn: “Then it shows m-more than I like.” The huntress ventures an awkward question, not meeting his eyes, “D-does it at least look okay on m-me?”
Araatris: His gaze travels her once more. “You are stunning,” he says softly, clenching his hands and forcing himself still. “I want to-… You’re beautiful.”
Rhoelyn: She glances up and blushes to the tips of her ears. “R-really? T-thanks. You said that you were still tired. Is it alright for me to sleep in this?”
Araatris: Rhese’s glance goes from her to the cot before he grits his teeth. “I-I don’t think I want to sleep, any more. I sh- Will you stop looking at me?”
Rhoelyn: Her eyes widen and she squeaks, looking her feet. “Oh! Y-yes! I can leave if you want me to. Oh, um… I can c-change. I kept my old clothes.”
Araatris: He sighs, immediately regretting his snappishness. “It’s not your fault. I told you: You don’t know your appeal. It’s dangerous.”
Rhoelyn: Nysse looks away. “What do you want me to do then? I’m… appealing. You’re not telling me to change. You’re not sleeping. Do I just stand here?”
Araatris: The druid frowns and brushes his silver hair before he steps closer, lowering his voice. “You’re not my slave. What do you want to do?”
Rhoelyn: The huntress stares at him with a mixture of longing and fear. “I want…” She searches his face. “Oh Elune, I must be insane…” She moves forward.
Araatris: Rhese watches her warily as she steps close to him. When she lifts a hand toward his face, he mutters, “Do you know what you’re doing, Nysse?”
Rhoelyn: She nervously clear her throat. “D-doing what feels natural and trying not to think too hard about it?” Nysse cups his cheek and raises to kiss him.
Araatris: Holding himself still, Rhese only moves enough to meet her kiss, as if he’s afraid to touch her. He closes his eyes at the touch of her lips.
Rhoelyn: Nysse pulls away and whispers, “It’s okay, Rhese. I understand what I’m doing. You don’t have to hold back.” She smiles shyly. “I promise.”
Araatris: With a nod and eyes that drink her in hungrily, the druid slips his hands around her waist, sliding them under the silken drapes of the dress.
Araatris: Rhese sits atop a pair of crates in the deep of the night, watching the few clouds illuminated by the Mother Moon wander slowly across her face.