Completed Honesty is a One-Way Ticket to Heaven

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Her fingers curled over his shirt, but Everleigh’s violet eyes remained firmly on Henk’s face. When he was done speaking did she look over his chest. She remembered each and every scar and the contours and shadows of the heavy muscle beneath his warrior skin. She hummed to herself as she centered her gaze back towards his face.

“Is that a threat, Henk?” Everleigh laughed, eyes closing as her mouth opened wide. Everleigh gathered the cards and then shuffled them up before dividing them between her and Henk. When her eyes opened, they were curled up into small slits reminiscent of a crescent moon. Lips curved up into a knowing smile. “Since when do you think you can put me in my place?” He had his deck and she had hers plus one extra. The game began.

The losing streak was broken as Everleigh won this round as well, almost immediately one would have thought that she cheated. The cards were combined once again.

“Let’s see, what do I want this time? What should I take from meek, modest Henk?” When she won, she rubbed it in. A bad habit that she had never quite broken out from. It must have come from the part of her that constantly felt like the worst and so she had to act like she was the best. Everleigh didn’t linger on such depressing thoughts that would surely come to haunt her when she had a moment alone.

“Your boot? Your pants? Your other boot? Your braid? How about…” Everleigh leaned over, taking another card from Henk’s pile. “Another card. Now I have a plus two buffer.”

Henk

 

[Henk]

"I like to consider it more of a warning than a threat, Evie."

She was certainly something, a couple of wins strung together and she acted like she hadn't been performing miserably just moments earlier. Putting her in her place, as she called it, was becoming increasingly attractive. Now that she'd decided to cross the unspoken barrier, he had far more options to push her toward her limit. The gambling queen of the Dreadlords was about to bust out to a novice.

She took a two-card buffer with her next win, playing with him, toying like this was a children's game and little more. She'd made it quite serious though, and even in defeat Henk smiled. This cocky little shit got sloppy when she was on top, and he'd take advantage of that to the fullest.

"I think I can put you in your place, because..." Henk threw down his last card to win the next round handily, a satisfied chuckle leaving him as he did so. "...You aren't as good as you think you are, and you're about to give me your pants." Her idea of his meekness was only making her more cocksure. If he wanted to keep her on her toes, he needed to push back.

Consider her pushed.

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Ah, strangely enough, she felt like she could’ve won this one. Well, she’d let Henk enjoy a victory here and there. Next time, she’d get him next time. That way she could ask for her pants back. Not what she would’ve thought Henk would choose. She had suspected her shirt, partly because of a shirt-for-a-shirt but more so because she thought he would be curious like the other men.

It would’ve worked out better for her if he had chosen her shirt for underneath her tunic was a short shirt and under that was the cotton bindings for her breasts. She had nothing extra under the black breeches other than a standard thong. Everleigh got off the bed, bending over to untie her boots and peel off her wool socks. She stuff them into her boots, kicking them off to the side and then turned to face Henk.

“Taking pants was my idea first.” She said, unbuckling her pants. “So don’t think this bothers me. I actually don’t like wearing these pants so you’re doing me a favor.” Everleigh lied, shoved her thumbs underneath the hem. A tug on either side and then she began the silly shimmy she had to do over and over until she could get their past her knees.

It was for this reason that she had decided facing Henk while doing this was better than if she had turned her back towards him. The moment she could pool the too-tight breeches down to her ankles and then finally be free by stepping out of them, Everleigh gave a sigh of relief.

“Maybe I should be thanking you.” She didn’t fold up her pants, instead bunching them into a tight ball to toss at Henk. Despite her face set sternly a arrogant yet shy blush warmed her cheeks. If he inspected them in front her she was going to lean over and punch him in his gut. Everleigh moved back onto the bed, movements different than before and allowed her tunic to help hide her tell. She kneeled, tucking her legs underneath her and knees pressed tightly together.

A new game began and much to her chagrin, she lost this round as well. She held back the twitch of annoyance and instead looked at Henk with a raised brow. A look that clearly prompted him to speak.

Henk

 

[Henk]

There was, admittedly, a small amount of guilt that ran through him as he leaned back to watch the show she put on. Perhaps he shouldn't have enjoyed watching Everleigh shake out of the tight pants that had been hugging her in all the right spots as much as he did, and maybe he wouldn't have if she hadn't made this so competitive a game.

Maybe... or maybe it was just something he'd wanted to see, plain and simple.

Henk tried not to think about that too much. He tried not to consider how he'd initially come up to Everleigh's room to attempt to comfort her, only to have her an hour later with her pants around her ankles and a flash of thong filling his vision as she carefully climbed back onto the bed so as not to give him too much of a display. Maybe there was something to that old saying that competition could do ugly things to a person, because given the heat of the game, Henk was able to push out those thoughts and focus on the fun he was having.

No, he wouldn't allow himself to feel too guilty. He heard the twinge of deceit in her voice as she claimed to be unaffected. He saw the slight redness to her cheeks. She was enjoying this too, whether she wanted to admit it to him or not.

"Maybe I am doing you a favor..." He mused, reaching out to catch the breeches and slinging them over his shoulder. "It almost seems like you're enjoying this, putting on a show." There was no small amount of amusement in his eyes as he made a point to tear his eye away from her thighs and back to his cards, shuffling and redealing with her usual buffer before replaying once again.

Another victory, and suddenly Everleigh wasn't talking. Just a cute little pout.

"Falling behind again, Evie..." He tutted, showing none of the mercy that she'd enjoyed from him before she went for his shirt. "Guess you're going commando now, as they say." He nodded towards her waist, a smug grin to rival her own splitting his face.

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh’s eyes narrowed at Henk and she raised her chin up in defiance. Her heart rate was elevated, she could feel it, the rapid tempo beneath her chest. Her skin felt hot, a overall flush rushing over her midsection and down to her legs. She held the expression, coy and arrogant, yet her face was red. Clamping her thighs so tightly together, she looked stiff and out of place.

She had wanted to win. No, that was wrong. She was playing not to lose— she didn’t want to lose a more risqué piece of clothing. She could’ve berated herself for that negligence. Marianne had warned her about a winning or a losing mindset. Why had Everleigh forgotten such an important thing?

Everleigh couldn’t consider why that was now, faced with the choice of giving Henk her underwear and going commando or forfeiting the game. It would make Henk the victor if she did that. Did it really matter if she lost if it meant she kept her decency? She looked over his bare, muscular chest. The game wasn’t over yet. She just had an idea for a new plan.

“Maybe I am enjoying it.” She said, grabbing Henk’s shirt and pulling it over her head. This time she turned her back to him. Henk’s shirt covered her better than her own tunic, the hem grazing over bottom flare of her thigh. She removed the black thong, holding it up with one hand. “But not as much as you.” Everleigh took a step towards Henk. Should she ball it up? Fold it? Throw it at him? Tell him to come and get it? She went with her first choice, balling it up, hoping he wouldn’t notice. Her aim was exceptional when she threw the bundled underwear at his shoulder.

“I can’t blame you though. It’s not your fault that you can’t help but to gaze at a woman’s body.” Back onto the bed. This time she would shuffle the cards. She took her time with it, staring at the cards. While dividing them up, she spoke once more. “Enjoy the view now because I’m not going to hold back on you any longer.” Not after his last request. Everleigh planned on getting even— no, more than just even.

She won this round. Good or else she would have sounded incredibly stupid. The violet eyes that lifted up to Henk’s single gaze would’ve belonged better on a wolf who was about to pounce on unsuspecting prey.

“Your pants. Fold ‘em neatly and hand them over.” Her clothing was too small for him to wear but she could wear his just fine. She was going to exploit it as much as possible. Everleigh leaned over, one free hand reaching out to caress over his knee before going lower to tug at the black laces of his boots until they were untied. “Look how nice I am: I’m even helping you.” It may have seemed flirtatious, and perhaps the essence of it was, but really she was just trying to get a pair of pants to pull over her hips.

Henk

 

[Henk]

There was a moment of sweet catharsis when she stiffened up at his next command. There were no cute retorts or smarmy looks of indifference this time; He'd gotten her, and she couldn't even pretend he hadn't. The fact he'd gotten one over on her so spectacularly gave him a rush that was somewhat foreign to him; he wasn't the type to enjoy humiliating another person, but for some reason embarrassing Everleigh, making her blush and clam up... it was more exciting to him than the prospect of her parading around this room bottomless.

Through some twisted logic, Henk wondered if he wasn't beginning to understand why Evie enjoyed gambling so much. This was the most fun he'd had in as long as he could remember, and even if it meant going into territory they probably shouldn't be exploring, he didn't want to stop until he was the winner.

Everleigh's panicked expression suddenly melted away as she seemed to form a new plan of attack, reaching out to grab the shirt she'd taken from him earlier and pulling it on over her other clothing, using it's length to hide her nethers from sight even as she slid off that last scrap that concealed them. It didn't bother Henk; This technically wasn't actual strip poker, and there were no rules to state she couldn't do such a thing. On top of that, he hadn't asked for her undergarments out of a desire to ogle her so much as to embarrass her. In that, he'd succeeded.

"We'll see how much fun you're having when I've liberated you from the rest of that outfit, yeah?" He taunted. Reaching out to catch the excuse for concealment she'd been wearing, he dropped it aside and snickered up at her, making no attempt to hide the roaming of his gaze as it traveled up her leg and lingered on the hem of his own shirt. "I've always told you that you were attractive, but I'm not the type to let my hot-bloodedness get in the way of my objective." He did enjoy the sight, her modesty just barely hidden from his eye. In an odd way, there was something equally alluring about the fact she was wearing his clothing. Even so, he wasn't a single-minded dog like Eberwhit could be around a pretty pair of legs.

Despite that, she was still barely able to seek out a win over him in the next game, that damned card buffer again. Suddenly those two cards didn't seem like such trivial choices. Had he been distracted? Looking up at her again, he furrowed his brow... Even the way she sat, it seemed intentionally designed to make him want more.

"Gah, well played."

Henk wasn't shocked at her next request, although he did feel his skin heat at the idea of exposing any more of himself to her. he wasn't much the type to show off his body to others. It had been years since he'd first acquired his scars, both mental and physical, and while his confidence was much improved, there was still the ghost of inadequacy concerning his appearance that haunted his mind.

But fair was fair, and Evie was already pulling one of his boots off anyway.

Henk watched her, a hint of a smile on his face as she worked on his laces. He didn't make an effort to help her, letting her do the honors of removing both of them. Again, he found a strange enjoyment in the sight. It made the beating of his heart ring in his ears, and caused the hair of his arms to stand on end when her fingertips brushed against his legs.

But he could only stall for so long. When his boots were discarded, Henk sighted and unfastened his belt, standing to slide his black trousers to the floor, stepping out of them before folding them and presenting them to her as requested. He was nearly in the buff now, suddenly lagging behind Evie in terms of clothing. He could put the boots back on, as she hadn't really taken them, but... he'd look ridiculous. Hopefully, his socks and the underwear that went midway down his thighs would be enough to hold him together.

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

“Nice boots.” Everleigh didn’t look up at Henk as she said this. She had somehow ended up getting off the bed to make the process easier. She considered tying his shoelaces together and see if she could make him trip as he stripped for her. Instead she glanced up at him, hesitantly pulling off the first boot. He had a bemused expression and said nothing. She took that for her to continue.

She wrinkled her nose, more so to embarrass Henk than to suggest anything. Having been knocked around more than she should have in the fight against the wrym, Everleigh was far more congested that she realized. She couldn’t smell to save her own life.

Back onto the bed and she grinned, watching Henk shuffle out of them. Violet eyes lingered on his thighs, tracing over the sturdy form, understanding the natural curve of muscle. She wouldn’t have expected his skin to be so pale, especially around his thighs. Not that she was any tanner than him. It was just a curious thing, Everleigh thought, to see scars on skin that the sun hadn’t yet touched. Curiouser yet was to see skin that mirrored her own. Yes, that’s all that was.

She took his neatly folded pants and with a dramatic flare she held them up in one hand, shaking them out of their tidiness and then swung them around her head for a moment as if it were a lasso. Everleigh was looking at Henk as she did this, wondering if it got a reaction. She didn’t bother putting on his pants and instead placed them over her lap.

“You know why you think I’m attractive?” Everleigh said after a moment, grinning from ear to ear. There was a rise in her spirits with this win. Henk hadn’t said anything the moment he slid his trousers off his legs. Even with something still covering him there was little left to the imagination now. And Henk, from what she remembered, was so shy. She felt like she had him at checkmate. He’d fold any moment now—

Another win. Another chance to make Henk bend to her will. Another chance to make him forfeit. Her gaze dipped low then up. The impish gleam of her violet eyes and curving grin marred her angelic face into one better suited for a devil. What would be more fun for her?

“You think I’m attractive because…” Everleigh leaned back, shifting more onto one hip and arm to support her. Her free hand made sure the Henk’s sleeveless shirt didn’t slip up. “I am uncontrollable.” The true essence of femininity. A terrifying force to be reckoned with and yet a force many needed. “Now, let’s see, what do you have but I don’t…? I have pants, you have pants. I have your shirt, you don’t have mine. You do have my belt and I don’t have yours, but do I really want your belt? Maybe I’d want something a little bit more… embarrassing. Think you can keep pretending to be frigid when you’re totally naked, Henk?” She paused, letting the charade linger between them, hoping it made Henk’s mind wander from the possibilities.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling rather magnanimous today. I won’t have you quit the game just yet.” She pointed at one of his shoes on the floor. “The left one. And when I win the next round I’m taking the right.”

Henk

 

[Henk]

Henk did his best not to let the searing heat of her gaze shake him too much; Admittedly he was unused to being openly gawked at, and the tension of the situation likely wasn't helping him. Everleigh knew this, and she didn't make any attempt to pretend she wasn't raking over his thighs with her stare. There was a level of embarrassment as he slid back onto the bed, face somewhat reddened and lips pursed tighter than before.

But there was also excitement. There was a thrill to such a high-stakes contest, and to having somebody who had always been a fair-weather friend staring down his flesh as though he was an expensive dinner. Did she realize her eyes were practically glowing? How that glimmer in her stare betrayed her facade of total control?

No, she was on just as much of a high, was just as on edge as he was. Otherwise, this wouldn't be so fun. So he let her have her time to talk, let her twist her face and shift her posture in ways all meant to tease and prod him. They both knew that all it would take was one win to have it all crumbling down again. It was an intoxicating tug-of-war, and the longer they played, the more Henk became convinced Everleigh was begging him to try and win.

The way she smirked at him like she was so much better after a round or two of winning, the way she stole quick glances after everything she did, trying to see if it garnered a reaction. Now that he was so exposed, she was only stealing more of them. Henk slid the boot over, smirking and bowing his head sarcastically at her 'magnanimous' gesture.

"...Uncontrollable, are you?" Henk didn't speak again until he won the next round, a tense affair, and either the heat in the room had increased, or this back-and-forth with Everleigh was truly beginning to take hold on him. His eye flickered back up to the woman sitting in front of him, "I'm beginning to think you want me to prove you wrong. You seem keen to hide your body with my own clothes, which is odd considering how pretty you are. Makes me think you're more invested than you seem." He mused, before leaning forward and reaching out with an outstretched finger. Fearlessly, he presses his fingertip against Everleigh's chest, biting the inside of her cheek.

"What is that, four layers now with my shirt? Since we're playing dirty, give me the wrappings. I know you have them on." It wasn't exactly a secret amongst their peers. "I want them."

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh looked down at the finger on her chest. The dreadlord part of her was enraged, how dare he touch her, did he not fear her, did he not find her deadly, how dare he try to make her harmless. The human part of her was only shy contentment that came from the pleasure of being touched; even if Henk wouldn’t be able to feel the warmth of her skin or feel the staccato beating of her heart. He would see her blush.

She got off the bed, already planning on how best to remove her tight bindings that minimized her breasts and yet never seemed able to completely hide them. Barefoot she stepped over to where Henk was, standing in front of him. Everleigh’s violet eyes were full of this undeniable flirtatious thrill that seemed to be pulling the two of them closer together. Like a terrible storm destined to meet a lighthouse— only this particular lighthouse was able to shine a light through the purple clouds and the overcompensating boom of thunder to see the eye of the storm.

“You think I’m pretty?” Everleigh asked, whispering for no other reason than the intimacy of this moment made her unable to raise her voice. She used her hands, placing them on Henk’s knees, to move Henk how she wanted him: facing her with his feet on the floor and legs spread apart so she could stand between them. The softness disappeared as she looked down at him, smug once more. “I wonder what part of me you think is so pretty? Keep you eyes on me, see if you can catch a peak, meek… mild… modest, Henk.” She turned her back to him then and took a step forward.

Everleigh should have done this facing him to get him flustered but she wasn’t certain she could keep her face stolid as she stripped her four layers. First was his shirt, which she used to wrap around the wide curve of her hips. Then her own tunic, letting it drop to the floor at her feet so to reveal the black short shirt that did little to hide the beige cotton wrappings underneath. Her fingers went under the short shirt. She could probably remove her binding with the short shirt still on. She looked back at Henk, turning towards him just enough to see the contours and lines of her bare stomach. She pulled off the short shirt and held it in one hand.

So many times she had been naked. Back at the Academy shame had been beaten out of her. Underneath the Academy, in those dank and dark and dangerous dungeons she had been cold, naked and starving for weeks at a time. Everleigh had been thinner than Chasmine, gaunt and frightening because she was able to still move and kill despite looking like a walking skeleton. It had taken almost three years for her body to be allowed to grow and become strong. She didn’t bleed like the other initiates yet but perhaps after a year or two she would also receive those monthly visits?

Not that anyone cared much about that when Everleigh was still very much a weapon. Or maybe they didn’t care when her breasts only seemed to grow larger and larger by the month. The last year as an initiate was already confusing enough. On the Pasiphae with Henk, Tinker and Zael, she could easily get away with only wearing a short shirt underneath her tunic. Yet the very next month a female proctor was taking her to the side and showing her how to bind her chest for modesty.

The time it took for her to undo her cotton wraps took three times longer than it should have as Everleigh thought little about the action itself and rather the flurry of emotions it seemed to ignite in her. She turned once more, now completely showing Henk her back. The meters-long strip of fabric fell onto the floor. Using a hand or arm would do little to cover herself and so she slipped the black short shirt over her head quickly. She kneeled down, taking her tunic and pulling that over as well.

When Everleigh stood up she had her cotton wrap in her hand. She pivoted, facing Henk once more. One step and she was where she was before she had removed what was supposed to be the “final barrier.”

“It’s your turn to shuffle the cards this time,” she said, leaning forward and placing her bindings over Henk’s head to rest around his neck. With the speed of a dreadlord she pulled the fabric snugly against his throat as if she were to choke him. She didn’t. Everleigh’s gaze centered on his face. It was the clearest challenge she had given him. “See? Uncontrollable.”

Henk

 

[Henk]

Henk had come to Everleigh's room with good intentions. He'd constantly reminded himself of that throughout the course of this debaucherous little game they'd begun to play. It was just as Everleigh had said, after all-- Henk was timid, meek and mild-mannered. There wasn't a chance of him coming up to a female comrade's room with the goal of doing anything even remotely untoward. It simply wasn't in his nature, and it never had been.

Now, as Evie spun him around and spread his legs apart with her hands on his knees, he was no longer able to claim such virtue. Staring up at the Lavender-haired weaver of toxins as she peeled his own shirt from her body, he remembered again the important lesson that Ralene had taught him some time ago: He held needs and desires well beyond what he was conscious of. As virtuous and good-natured as he strived to be, he was but a man, and one who'd been isolated for well over a year now.

No matter how he tried to hide it, he was lonely.

Perhaps subconsciously he had come to Ebersol to simply be in her presence, to have somebody he cared for nearby. But as he watched her turn her back and make a sultry show of removing the next item of clothing, those wraps that held her ample breasts to a reasonable proportion for battle, that had changed once again. It was more than that now, the warmth that pooled in his stomach as her bindings fell to leave the bare expanse of her back, and the slightest visible curve of her chest on either side was that of desire, in all of its undeniability.

He yearned for her, if only in the most carnal of ways.

Henk reached out with his hands, pressing his unusually warm palms against the bare flesh of her back before she had the chance to fully cover herself up. He no longer cared about the pretenses of the game-- It had long since devolved into a vessel for them to satisfy their loneliness, and if she truly wished for this to end any other way, it would be a simple matter of sending him away. Not that what he did was against the rules, of course.

So he was selfish, allowing his hands to so briefly explore against the soft skin of her backside, his fingers gravitating towards the small, stud-like piercings on her lower back that glimmered in the dim light of the room. How many did she have, he wondered? Where were they? When did she get them? Her body was foreign, full of stories, and that drew him in even further. No amount of card sharking would ever truly let him see it all.

Even if it would, he was beginning to wonder if he had the patience.

Everleigh pulled her shirt and tunic over her head to conceal herself, and Henk quickly drew his hands away. She spun and for a moment Henk expected to be struck. It would have been a rather anticlimactic way to end their night, but he wouldn't have held that against her. Instead, she draped her bindings around his head and swiftly drew them taut across his neck.

The pressure wasn't enough to choke him, but she was sending a message, clinging onto that last vestige of control over herself, the same one that Henk had already released. She wanted to be uncontrollable, wanted to be free of need, and unbound to anybody. He merely stared into her violet eyes, unshaken by the straps around his neck as he reached out once more and placed his hands on her hips, gripping her firmly as he spoke low.

"Uncontrollable. You're right." Henk slowly tugged up at the tunic she'd thrown over herself. "Every time you lose to me, you also lose a little bit more control. Over the situation. Over yourself." Even through the fabric, Henk could feel how hot her skin had grown, it rivaled even his own abnormal heat. "You want me to win. You want me to take every scrap of clothing you're wearing, and then you want me to go even further than that. You don't want to be uncontrollable, you want to be out of control."

Quickly, one of his hands left her tunic and slid up to the back of her head, fingers wrapping in her violet hair as he pulled her head down so that he speak into her ear, quietly, as though they had some audience that might hear his next words.

"I want it too."

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

His touch was warm. It was the only thought she had as he placed his hands on her. Even through clothes she could feel that heat that she hadn’t quite noticed before. He had touched her hands before, at the Festival of Freedom. Had his hands been warm like this then? Funnily enough, the answer was no. His heat permeated through the tunic into her hips. Even when he brought her ear to his lips, his hot breath made her involuntarily shiver.

She wasn’t sure exactly it was that Henk wanted. No, she knew he wanted her, that was as clear as the sun on a cloudless day. What she didn’t know was if he wanted to be out of control or for her to be out of control. The result was the same so did the reason matter at this point?

There was silence between them as Everleigh remained incredibly still like the predator she had been made to be. She was hot in all the places she shouldn’t be, a war erupting underneath her skin as voices battled in her head. She had a chance to say no. Some rhyme and reason that shouted at her to consider what this would bring. Erland was a whore, if he saw how bad of a dreadlord she was, did it matter? Did she dare let Henk see the hedonism burning her own skin? Could he even handle such rapture? Could he match it? Could he control the fire that even she herself didn’t dare touch?

Didn’t Henk realize that she had never behaved, even as an initiate she had sneaked around and wreaked havoc, and now? Now, she was worse, wasn’t she? Even in this compromising moment where she looked so much smaller than Henk with her narrow shoulders and small, slender hands that was reminiscent of delicate bird bones, she was still a frightening force of nature.

“If you want it so bad,” she was whispering as well, their comrades just below them. She took a step back, pulling against the hold on her hip, pushing her head against the grip in her hair. Henk was right. In this moment she hated the clothing pressed against her fever hot skin, why couldn’t he have pulled her tunic up all the way and pull his shirt down her hips. Everleigh tilted out her chin, sharp jaw casting her long neck in shadow, her upturned bedroom eyes narrowing as she parted her lips to breathe out her final offer.

“Then take it.” If you dare, her violet eyes seemed to say. If you can, her small hands seemed to say as she pushed her warm palms against his chest, pushing him back. Then take me, his black shirt that had been wrapped around her hips seemed to fall away, now only held up by Henk’s lonesome hand.

Henk

 

[Henk]

Daylight came quickly and allowed neither of them much in the way of sleep. What had been intended to be a short visit for comfort, and perhaps solace in the company of a comrade had quickly devolved into a sordid tryst of flesh and pleasure. Henk and Everleigh, lost in the haze of fear, anger, and loneliness inflicted upon them by the world they lived in, allowed themselves to be lost in the arms of one another for one night.

That night was over now, and Henk sat up on the bed, a blanket tossed over his lap as his gaze alternated from the violet-haired woman lying beside him and the rising sun through the foggy glass of the window. His thoughts were... muddled. Last night had been an overreach; a betrayal of trust on several fronts. In a time of need, he merely took what was in front of him, what was offered to him. Was it the right thing to do? No, likely not...

Did he regret it? He wasn't sure. When he looked at Ebersol now, still not entirely roused from sleep, he felt the same about her as he always had; She was a powerful ally, one whom he held the utmost respect for, who understood him in ways very few ever would. That he'd been enlightened to a different side of her, a side of the carnal and sinful, hadn't shifted his opinion in the slightest.

He knew this wouldn't happen again. That was for the best. For all the good it did him, Henk still yearned for another. Everleigh, he knew, did too.

Sliding from the mattress, Henk prowled about the room, collecting the scattered components of his uniform, strewn about after being passed from him to her, and from her to the floor. Beneath him he heard voices, laughter and the sound of plates being served to patrons below. It would be difficult to hide what had happened between the two of them, and even if they did, rumors would swirl.

Dressing himself, Henk took another look towards Everleigh, walking back to her and squatting, placing a hand upon her exposed shoulder.

No, he decided, looking at her smooth features, he did not regret it. If he were to die at the hands of a rogue Archon tomorrow, he would at least perish knowing what it was to feel such powerful emotion, to experience such an intense intimacy. Ebersol had granted him that, and she would always have his gratitude.

"We must depart, Everleigh..."

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

“Don’t touch me.” She hadn’t been able to go to sleep, even if at first she thought she’d be able to, it eluded her. Because she deserved it. Because she did it again. A bad dreadlord. A bad person. How was she supposed to dream of better things, of better times, when she couldn’t sleep?

Everleigh had shut her eyes anyways, curling up into herself and away from Henk. She had realized too late it was a mistake. Or perhaps she had always known that doing this was a mistake, even before they couldn’t turn back. Hadn’t she felt some strange nervousness in her gut? Hadn’t she thought of the wrongness of this?

“Ever again.” Everleigh added, sitting up. She was still naked, only gooseflesh covering her but this time there was no allure to it. Her hardened stare as if she had been tricked. She felt much like that, not because she felt like Henk had tricked her, but that the part she despised the most about herself had.

Where was her self control? Her dignity? Her pride? Had it left with Zael? Had Marianne snatched it all up without her noticing? Maybe it had never been there at all?

She went to dress, splotches of purple collaring her throat. There were other small bruises to be found, not as much as a testament to Henk’s strength but rather the weakness she felt inside and out. Wrapping her breasts tight hurt, a soreness throughout them and her back. Her muscles felt tight and strained. She hated herself for wishing for Zael’s embrace right now, just because her head and heart were a teeming mess.

“And if you dare,” she seethed, “speak of this, your tongue is mine.” She pointed a finger in his direction. “And don’t tell me what to do! I know, I already know.” She already knew they needed to leave, she already knew she shouldn’t have slept with Henk, she already knew it was bad, she already knew others would know, and she already knew she was being unreasonable right now.

“Fuck, I need to kick something.” Everleigh muttered, slipping on her boots.

Henk

 

[Henk]

Henk quickly pulled as hand away as Everleigh snapped at him, his expression unchanging from that of the silent contemplation he'd been holding before. He didn't hold this kind of reaction against her. How could he, when he himself had done the same thing to his own psyche, again and again? Henk understood, and he would not make this harder for her than it needed to be.

So, as Everleigh sat up and the blanket concealing her body fell to reveal her body, sullied and bruised by his own efforts, he averted his gaze and rose back to his feet. She was not his to gaze upon, and his night of allowed transgression had long since passed. "I understand." Henk responded softly, pulling his cloak from the bed post and throwing it on, pulling the hood up to cover his head.

It wouldn't stop them from knowing it was him, it wouldn't stop them from talking about this, about the two of them.

Even after taking his vow, pledging to rebuild the trust he'd squandered in his friends and comrades, he had already irreparably damaged his relationship with one of them, a woman he held in such high regard. His loneliness and his weariness had overtaken him, and his sense of reason was lost in the valleys of Ebersol's body. Now, it was far too late to take any of it back.

Everleigh dressed him down, delivering in no uncertain terms a warning to never speak of the night they'd shared, not that he'd intended to. Henk didn't make any eye contact with her, didn't see the accusatory finger aimed his way as she spit fire at him. The Dreadlord simply nodded along, waiting for her to finish so that he could take his leave and be out of her way.

"I'll stay away, Everleigh, and I won't speak a word."

Once he heard the thud of her boots on the floor, Henk briskly slid towards the door, reaching out and wrapping his fingers around the knob. Turning it in his grip, he paused before pushing the door open and turned to face her on his blind side.

"I am sorry."

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

There was a pause that seemed to stretch into eternity for Everleigh. She had never liked the parallel of an angel on one shoulder, a devil on the other, because as a dreadlord she only had devils to guide her. There was a pang in her heart, that clumsy and insisting empathy that she just couldn’t get rid of. She could apologize right now. Take some of the blame. She had wanted it, too. It wasn’t bad.

A hand went to her sore throat, up her jaw and onto her chin. Something had dried there and she used the short nail of her thumb to scrape it off. She could already guess what it was without having to inspect it. She hadn’t lied when she told Henk she didn’t care what happened to her body anymore. But it had become a lie later on in the night while she thought of anything and everything.

Guilt and shame settled over her from wishing for Zael. She wanted to be held, she wanted to be secure, she wanted to be loved. These things that she wanted so much but thought herself to be undeserving of had twisted her heart, twisting the last bond she had from the Academy.

Everleigh knew she was a cruel and vile woman, poisoning everything she touched. How had she taken such pride in it before? How could she ache for Zael now, knowing what she was and what she did.

“Save your apology for someone who wants to hear it.” She spat, unable to say the words she meant as she went to the window. Her hands were fists and she gladly dug her nails into her palms. At least that way she could lie and say her misty eyes was from the pain and not her heart.

He should have saved his apology for someone who deserved it; and Everleigh had woken up this morning with the understanding that she was undeserving of many things.

Henk