Private Tales Forastero

[Amorea Delarosa]

Amore startled with a slight twitch at the sudden sensation of the man's fingers on the side of her head. Something she'd found incapable of overcoming - especially since that night in the forest. It was ... embarrassing, to say the least. To be so overcome with sensitivity to the smallest things that having sight would have made so natural.

The Priestess flushed slightly, both at her jumpiness and at Kishou's words. The touch may have had something to do with it, too.

"You do?" her eyes blinked in amazement at the admission of his, a mild frown pulling at her lips, "I think about it, too. I should have been ordering them back onto the ships, not sowing a false sense of security into the camp. I could have saved all of them."

 

[Kishou]

The back of Kishou's finger grazed her rosy cheek. It was moments like this, of intimacy, that he found himself longing for while on the road.

It was true that he did think of it. He thought of promises of riches, only to leave completely defeated and empty-handed. Perhaps, in a sense, there was a treasure to be had from the failed expedition. It had only taken a year afterward to present itself.

"You can not torment yourself over those that were not saved," he consoled her. "Not that they should be forgotten, but... You did well. We survived because of you."

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

"I hesitated," the frown persisted, eyes closing against the touch, "it's the Church's right to assume command of a mission when the representative believes the leader to be compromised. I wanted to give the Captain the benefit of doubt, but I should have listened to my instincts."

"None of this would have happened, we wouldn't be here if I had just done my duty."

How different things would have been.

"...but then I wouldn't have gotten to know you like I have. I can't see you anymore but I know you so much more than I could have."

 

[Kishou]

He didn't like to think too much about the Captain, or his brother. The thirteen lashes were still a fresh memory, just as the abandonment was.

A furious blush lit Kishou's cheeks as a small smile grew over his face. His finger brushed over her cheek again.

"And how do you feel now, after knowing so much more about me?" He whispered.

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

Amore had to think hard about how she'd felt before, back on the shores of that island, lost to the duties of her station. For her people she'd felt a deep sense of responsibility toward. Sometimes she wondered if it were like how a mother felt toward her children - trying to keep them safe and guiding them on a path of faith and honor. Then there had been the stranger.

Forastero.

A source of cold in a world of warmth. The non-believer, standing out among the Cortosi as blatantly as a dark elf in the desert kingdoms. She remembered looking upon him with a detached curiosity, like he were some kind of foreign artifact to study if only for the gains of what knowledge he might provide. And now?

One hand left the strange totem she held at her stomach, lifting to grasp the hand that so gently stroked at her face. She held it close, nuzzling at it, letting the scent of him fill her senses.

"Warm," where once he'd been a passing, cold curiosity he now held her undivided attention and respect. Amore smiled faintly into his hand, feeling the flush of that same warmth billow from within her chest and spread along her limbs, blooming on her cheeks, "I feel warm."

 

[Kishou]

He could have stayed there forever, her face in the palm of his hand. He gingerly cupped her cheek, her soft porcelain skin clashing against his tawny complexion.

"That makes two of us," he softly chuckled.

It was a comforting warmth. A warmth that he, without even knowing, melted into with no resistance. A warmth that weakened his knees and sent his heart aflutter. It made him feel weightless as if he walked above even the clouds.

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

That got another smile out of her. One that bloomed over her lips unbidden by anything but yet another flush of warmth. She could feel the air in her lungs twist in coils of self-awareness as she became fiercely aware of Kishou's gaze upon her.

Delicate fingers clasped around the larger hand at the side of her face, gently pulling it away but not immediately releasing it. Content with the moment, she sighed and carefully rolled to her side to face him. Not that doing so allowed her to see him any better ... but it did bring her that much closer to the man. Amore let their hands rest against the bedroll, her unfocused gaze settled somewhere in the vicinity of where they lay.

"Is it time to leave?" the question was a quiet one, as if she asked it softly enough he might not hear it.

 

[Kishou]

"I don't know," he answered just as quietly, "do you want to leave? We have plenty of coin, we can stay. I have no issue in biding here. The sake is good, after all."

He looked past her towards the open window and clear blue sky. He thought of a conversation from a long time ago about snow. What a shame that they came during the summer. The swordsman sat up and ran both of his hands through his hair several times, his fingers raking through and untangling thick raven locks.

"How is your shoulder?"

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

Was that relief she felt at hearing the words we can stay? It felt like she'd been on the move for an eternity - constantly shifting from one task to the next, one mission to the next, one city to the next, one destination to another. Aside from her recuperation after arriving back in Cortos from the island incident, there had been very little time spent to relax and enjoy the place she was in.

Or the company she was with.

As if a Priestess from the Radiant Church got vacations.

"I wouldn't mind staying one more day," Amore replied, "still sore. It's the oddest thing ... taking so long to heal."

She'd never needed so much time to do so before.

 

[Kishou]

“Then let’s stay,” he said, laying back down on his side. Kishou smiled at her made a noise somewhere between a sigh and chuckle.

“I’m sure you heard of the commotion that we stirred up the night before we departed Alliria. I was flogged alongside Diego and the others. It took the whole trip from Alliria to the island to heal, and even then it did not even heal completely.”

Thirteen. It felt like he would die. Perhaps it was fortunate, at least, that he wasn’t keelhauled.

“I’m sore, too. And tired.”

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

"I...hadn't," Amore frowned, silvered eyes fluttering in thought. Had she? Sometimes when Kishou or others spoke of things that had happened right prior to the launch of the expedition she wondered if she had been present at all. There were moments in time on the journey that she drew complete blanks. The Healers thought perhaps her memory had been effected along with her eyesight, but she could remember everything on the island up until the point of the inferno.

"At least, not specifically. The Commodore mentioned a disturbance on Captain Diego's ship, but only that it had been dealt with." Amore had, after all, traveled on a separate boat to the islands. She'd been moved to Diego's ship for the journey home to make room for those more grievously injured.

"You were flogged? For what?"

 

[Kishou]

“I learned firsthand that Anirians and Cortosi men do not get along,” Kishou dryly chuckled, “There was a fight, and the Anirians were all left dead.”

He cut down two men himself after being swept up in the commotion. Really, it was a horrible night of drinking.

“Thirteen lashes,” he chuckled again, “and apparently Hernan was being generous.”

It had resulted in no small amounts of headaches, either. From being bedridden to having rumors spread about his fighting prowess, and the sailors that wanted to test him, the fight had been something Kishou retrospectively came to regret.

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

"I see," Amorea couldn't say the reasoning was terribly surprising. Anirians and Cortosi had been at odds with one another for longer than she'd been alive. Generations, perhaps longer. The rivalries had abated for a time when Cortos began greater trade throughout the region - a necessary truce of sorts, but it hadn't stopped deep-seeded bitterness from spilling over from time to time.

More often when those seeds were watered with alcohol.

She smiled faintly at that last part, "The Commodore is not known for his levity, but 13 is a bad number to carry around in your flesh."

A moment to pause, she took hold of the totem that sat on the mattress between them and moved it to the floor just off the edge, "I used to be able to heal scars," the Priestess frowned, gently wringing her hands together, "my wounds healed very quickly all on their own. I never got sick. I knew what pain was but I never really understood suffering."

Maybe she really wasn't human.

 

[Kishou]

“Hmm,” he hummed in acknowledgement. Perhaps he should have been concerned, 13 was a portent for misfortune after all. Though, as he looked at the woman laying next to him, he felt anything but misfortunate.

“Aren’t scars almost a beautiful thing? They are evidence that we overcame our suffering. Proof of our being. Of our strength as people.” He mumbled.

Kishou wryly smiled. Hands capable of performing miracles, but also able to leave a small island as nothing but ashes. Now, she could not even take a stroll without another’s aid.

He took Amore’s hand and lifted it to his face, placing the tips of her fingers under his right eye and guiding them across a faint scar over his cheekbone.

“When I was learning how to fight with a sword,” he explained, “my master told me that a swordsman that did not fear pain or death would not live long. And so, he made me feel the pain of being cut.”

He guided her hand down to his bottom lip and traced her fingertips down his lip and onto his chin.

“My very first scar. I tripped running in the forest and hit my face on a rock.”

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

"I suppose ..." her frown deepened, "I don't ... I've never...had any scars, they all healed. Until now, anyway." Was that so unusual for someone in her line of work? Maybe it was. She'd been injured plenty, even fatal wounds that would have, should have killed her. The High Priest attested her survival and healing to her magic.

She listened as he took her hand, gently following the motion and feeling the raised skin of scar tissue that marked the various chapters of his life. Had she noticed them before, when she could see? Amore couldn't recall, but there was no excuse to have missed them. She'd certainly been close enough to see ... hadn't she?

Had she missed them again when she'd asked to see his face through her hands at the inn?

"Do you have others?" It was nice to learn more about the man, but unnerving at the same time.

 

[Kishou]

“Mm,” he nodded and after a pause sat up. Kishou slipped his hand down the fold of his kimono, loosening it before pushing it down his shoulders. The light garments pooled around his hips as he bared a beaten and battered body to Amore.

He took her hand again, carefully showing it to his shoulder, tracing it over a narrow scar before letting it go and leaving her to her to her curiosity.

His body was truly that of a warrior’s. Ostensibly barely hanging together, several scars from sword slashes and arrowheads decorated his skin like markings on a map. Perhaps he was strong, but very far from invincible.

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

Amore could not see what he was doing, but judging by the sound of clothing gently folding down upon itself she could only intelligently surmise. She sat up as well out of some sense of sudden anxious curiosity. The moment he pressed her hand against his shoulder her cheeks were well the same shade of red as her hair.

It was one thing to ask to touch a man's face to better recall what he looked like. It was quite another to...

She withdrew the hand, gently clearing her throat, "Forgive me. I ... ahm -" for some reason knowing the man was sitting there with his upper body exposed was somehow more uncomfortable than when they had shared a bath house.

"Priests are not permitted to touch another unless it is for healing purposes."

Healing, helping, harming. She decided to leave the last two out. Perhaps now he would understand why it was such a scandal for him to simply lead her by the arm around the garden courtyard or dance with her at the ball. These things simply were not done.

 

[Kishou]

“But, Amore,” Kishou leaned towards Amore, his voice low and words rolling past his lips like silk, “my scars...”

Brazen. Impudent. Perhaps foolish. He wondered if that’s how she saw him. Kishou always acted with consideration for her position, especially when around others. Speak politely. Display excellent manners. Comport yourself with grace. Do not embarrass the Solar Choir Priestess.

Perhaps six months ago, acting with such forwardness would have crossed a line and caused offense. Now though it felt as if that line had dissolved, or so his gut told him.

To hell with a graceful comportment.

“Won’t you tend to them?” A smug, mischievous smirk flashed across his face for a fleeting moment.

The heat was stifling. Not hers, though he was certain if it were cold enough he would be able to see steam rise from the top of her head. He was hot. Admittedly, the prospect of having her hands smooth over his skin was an exciting one.

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

Something about the curious shift of his behavior struck her as unsettling. Where had this come from? Surely, surely he was jesting? Amore got the sense he was leaning toward her, though his voice didn't give much clue other than being just a hair louder. The Priestess tensed and leaned back, incapable of airing out the heat that continue to rise into her cheeks and ears.

Was it hot in here? It was hot in here.

"Kishou..." a frown weighted the corners of her lips, moony gaze casting aside in mild embarrassment, "you know I can't."

It went against her social code, her moral upbringing, her vows to the Church, and she literally could not tend to anything. No matter the lack of magical powers, she couldn't see a wound to treat it proper.

 

[Kishou]

"Why not?" he posed the hushed question to her, "you are only seeing through your hands. What harm is there in that?"

His hand pressed on the futon next to hers as he leaned with her, maintaining their distance. The heat was palpable.

There was some fun to be had in teasing the young Priestess. Perhaps too much fun, though, as she became more and more flustered, Kishou became more and more motivated to nudge her further. The swordsman thought he saw an urge to satiate curiosity behind those glossy, paled eyes of hers. Was it immoral, he wondered, to push her towards what her ilk would consider improper? Sinful?

"You know I would tell you about them. Aren't you curious?"

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

Could feel the weight of his hand on the mattress near her own, and even though he wasn't terribly close she was now getting the sense he was following her. Amore had momentarily forgotten how to breath, her spine turning to steel as she continued to tensely lean away.

"It's not- OHF!" the woman toppled backwards off the mattress, landing in a heap on the bare wooden floor. She tried to quickly collect herself but mostly just managed to get tangled in the blanket that had been folded over her lap and the lengths of her gown. There were several Cortosi swears tossed in there as she struggled with the mess, "it's not - I just - you don't -"

 

[Kishou]

"Hm?" he playfully hummed.

Kishou's lips scrunched in a small, mirthful smile as he followed her off the mattress. As if he were on the prowl, he crawled off of the futon. There was something so thrilling about watching her fret over his mischievous attitude. The well-spoken Amore, unable to speak. What a sight.

"Here," he cooed and gently took her hand by the wrist, quickly bringing it to his chest and flattening it over a small, narrow scar. His fingers fell over hers as he guided her fingertips over the welt. "It was a shallow cut, but deep enough to leave a mark. From a duel, one of my very first."

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

The gasp that left her mouth was one of mortified scandal. Amore went stone-still as she felt her hand being pressed against the skin of his chest, his own fingers weaving hers across the raised webwork of scars. There was still a great deal of color on her face where the fury of the blush had filled in the otherwise creamy complexion, but behind that she seemed to pale. The fervent beat of her heart could almost shatter her ribs if it were any stronger.

Emotions came to war in her head again. While she loved learning everything there was to learn about her companion, this interaction went against every rule and code in her faith. Though a Healer she was, and many men, women, and children had she tended to, never had she laid a hand on another's body for a reason as simple as desire or intimacy.

The contact was terrifying and thrilling all at the same time, made only so by the fact that some part of her wanted it.

Now not only was she a failure but a sinner.

"How - how awful," she gave her had a tug in an attempt to reclaim it, "thank you for sharing that with me."

 

[Kishou]

"Awful, you say?" He fell silent and let her hand retract, "I don't think so. Rather, in my youth, I didn't think so. It made me feel strong. In a superficial way."

Her skin had taken on a violently red hue, and while it was entertaining in a way, he also didn't mean any actual harm, such as igniting an inner conflict. Still, he felt regretful as her hand pulled away from his chest. A part of him, a large one at that, wished she would explore him. Question this scar and that scar.

"Why don't you come back into the bed," he said, stifling a chuckle, "I promise I won't run you off again."

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

"You and I lead a very different sort of youth," Amore nodded in full understanding of that particular statement. With her hand back in her own possession and the pressure taken off, she had a moment to recollect herself and gather her wits back about her.

Sitting there as she was in her heap of robes and blanket, her hands came to settle quietly in her lap.

"I don't mean to ... dismiss your history. I would be pleased to hear it - you have such a way with words. Only I..." Amore gently cleared her throat, searching for the right thing to say, "wish to keep my vows and honors intact."

She didn't move, not yet. Instead she waited for his reply.