Private Tales Hopelessly Waltzing

[Medja]

Ragash, Medja's Tower

Three days had passed since the events of Iesha's rebellion had come to a close. For the most part, things had returned to business as usual for Medja. Documents needed signing, gold needed allocating, and the remaining rebels needed eliminating. It was as though the world was moving forward as though nothing had changed. It felt...wrong.

There were threads that has been left open ended, and it bothered the courtier greatly. While the matter if her own discovery of buried emotions would take time and meditation to deal with, there was one thing she knew she could take care of: the newly returned Vizier of War, Ashuanar.

Medja had demanded that he spend his time recuperating in Ragash under her watchful eye. The best healers the city had were made to tend to his wounds and, while there would likely be scars left from the ordeal, he would live without any reduction of his quality of life.

There were some tasks that the sorceress would trust to no one but herself, however. Among those was a sort of rehabilitation program she had put together for Ashuanar. It was a more personal and tender experience than anything the healers could provide for the man. Medja felt she owed it to him, perhaps as recompense for allowing him to be captured in the first place.

So it was that the vizier had been invited to Medja's residence this day. She occupied the tallest spire of Ragash's grand palace. It was an illustrious place, even compared to its breathtaking surroundings. The courtier had seen to it that its floors had been filled with all that made the city as wondrous as it was; indeed, the Spire of the Mistress was a veritable, self-contained paradise.

Even now, Medja found herself eagerly, almost anxiously awaiting Ashuanar's arrival. One if her best agents, Settra, had been tasked with escorting him here, but her nerves were getting to her all the same.

 

[Ashuanar]

Medja

​

In regards to Ashuanar's recovery, there had been little protest from the vizier. Between the Immortals, Fieravene, and not least of all Medja, he had been returned without any lasting physical impairment. The wounds inflicted upon his body were largely seen to without much difficulty, but there were several scars that had been carved deeply into his flesh. Parts of his chest and back would have lasting marks, and on the left side of his face some wounds still tied themselves together. The healers had opted for as little intervention as possible to avoid such scars there.

However, he had suffered in a way that indeed the healers could not remedy - at the hands of his own flesh and blood, an aspect that continued to torment him.

It left him less so obsessed with what had been, and more so concerned with what would be. He was wary to divulge much of what had transpired, or even address it. But, when Medja had called for him he did not hesitate to comply - he felt he could trust her. Inexplicably.

In fact he was all too eager to go when called. Thoughts of her had dwelt with him in that darkened hall, and her coming had only solidified in him the draw... the yearning he had felt for her, out on those plains by Salitra. The hope he had placed in her, here in Ragash by the golden pool.

He approached Medja's spire, lead by the courtier's agent Settra. He was relatively quiet all the while, and whatever could be gleaned from his countenance was obscurred by the white headwrap he wore, which left only a generous slit for his eyes to peer from. They came to the entrance, and Settra opened the door with a cordial respect, and ushered him in. He stepped inside.

 

[Medja]

Ashuanar would find a grand and elegant foyer waiting for him, and a pair of female attendants would guide him in. A couple of flights up was the lounge, a room occupied primarily by lush, comfortable couches, a stage which was often used by performers that the courtier invited to play for her (though it was presently empty), and a bar towards the back of the room. Fine foods, Ragashi delicacies, had been laid out upon silver platters for them to partake of. At the edge of the room, an open balcony for gazing out and viewing the beautiful streets and canals of Ragash below.

At the center of the arrangement was Medja herself, reclined into a couch and ready for the vizier's arrival.
"Welcome, dear vizier," She beckoned him forth with a graceful wave of a hand. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

A lavish day of relaxation and a chance for Ashuanar to vent was what Medja had in store for the bewildered general. She would wash the stains of his awful experience in the desert from his mind completely by saturating him in indulgent luxury. All would be made right once more.

 

[Ashuanar]

He entered, and took a moment to digest the surround. His eyes traveled up the stairs, examining the decor all about. Medja certainly had exquisite taste. Far better than he, that much he could say. His chambers were often quite plain. Jewels, gems and gold were not things he was yet terribly accustomed to beholding. Even the tapestries, the greenery - each feature was wonderful to look at. He could see how she could enjoy herself here.

Each of his arms were hooked, and he was escorted up the steps. They welcomed him kindly, and through his covering his eyes smiled to each of them as he nodded his greeting.

He was led into the lounge, and he looked around curiously as the attendants left his side. He looked to the buffet that had been set out for them. Until now, his appetite had been scarce, but to stand here gazing upon this assortment would likely change that before long.

"Welcome, dear vizier," She beckoned him forth with a graceful wave of a hand. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

His eyes fell to her, and he inclined his head. Here in her presence, he felt no need to shield himself. She had seen him in his absolute worst - what good was this headwrap with her? He removed it, his head now quite a bit more bare than it had once been. There was also a new rigidity in his features, but whether it was due to the still healing gash under his eye or some other, invisible wound, was hard to tell. His tone at least, sounded pleasant.

"Comfortable?" he approached,"it seems I'll have little difficulty of that here. Your invitation was... quite welcome."

Medja ​

 

[Medja]

The courtier smiled warmly. The shave was unexpected, but definitely had a certain level of charm. Regardless, she was pleased that Ashuanar had arrived and that he seemed happy to be in her company. As the vizier moved to join her on the cushions she shifted about to accommodate him, a white, silk robe lined with gold and vibrant green thread making up the majority of her current ensemble.

"I am more than glad that you accepted it." Medja replied, plucking a bit of fruit from one of the nearby platters. "Your recovery looks like it is coming along well. That is fortunate..."

She examined the man before her head to toe before popping the fruit into her mouth. The courtier knew that he likely didn't know exactly why he had been asked to come before her, and so decided to elucidate on the matter. Keeping quiet about the nature of their meeting would only build stress, exactly the opposite of what she intended.

"But I expect it is not just the body which needs healing after all you've endured, Ashuanar. I wish to see to your heart and mind, as well." She smiled again, pulling her legs inwards towards herself. His apparent level of comfort in her presence was reassuring.

 

[Ashuanar]

"I am more than glad that you accepted it."

He joined her in taking of the fruit, nodding along with the mention of his recovery. Indeed, his body felt strong again. There was a tender soreness here and there that yet remained, trauma that the body had not yet realized had been mended. But overall, he was relatively content.

"Yes, the healers here in Ragash are to be commended."

He bit from the fruit, its sweet juices brought his tastebuds to life. He savoured it. He had not looked upon fruit since his return, and now he wondered what in all hell had driven him to that madness. A half smile appeared, and he gestured the fruit in silent thanks to Medja.

"Yes, I..." he fell silent.

There was a weariness in his eye, but it did not drown in sorrow. It fluttered back and forth, memories unfolding invisibly before him. A small wince at a particular thought. Then he looked to her, his face softening with his voice,

"I cannot tell you how thankful I already am... I do not fear death, Medja." He gave his head a slow shake, looking away, "but there. By the hand of my own blood," he scowled, holding the thought briefly before his head dropped with a frustrated huff.

"I walked right into their hands."

Medja ​

 

[Medja]

Medja reached out and placed a soft hand upon Ashuanar's arm, sympathy welling within her. It was as she imagined...the sting of betrayal would likely last far longer than any physical scarring.

"You could not have known what was in store at her hands. I..." She hesitated a moment, searching for the right phrasing, "have heard that your kin are supposed to share a bond with you that goes beyond time and distance, but that scum is too far beneath you to call her your 'blood' anymore, Ashuanar.

This was a difficult topic. She wanted to be able to empathize with the vizier, to know (or at least imagine) the pain of betrayal from one you called "family," but she could not. She didn't understand why being related could make the feeling that much worse. All she knew was that she was angry. Angry at Iesha for her treachery, angry on Ashuanar's behalf, angry that he had the chance to have a relationship with someone of his own blood but was denied in the harshest of ways.

She did her best not to look sullen. This gathering was not about her, it was about him. She had to remind herself, this meeting wasn't for her...was it?

 

[Ashuanar]

"It is true," he said, "but it is also true for us to war against one another. But... after I had been freed from slavery, I was united with my tribesmen... she was not. The God Emperor found favour in me. She was offered no such luxury."

He pursed his lips as he thought a moment, then raised his head and offered her a smile in his eyes, "but, for all their efforts they were reduced to nothing," his lip curled up, "they proved to be no match for the likes of yourself, now did they."

Not only her abilities as a spellcaster, but also the relationships Medja had formed in and out of court had proved to be a benefit not only to her, but now to him. His recovery had gone remarkably well. She was likely the most capable human he had ever met... and aside from perhaps the Lady Fieravene, (whether she appreciated the title or not, in his mind he respectfully regarded her as such,) the most capable sorceress he knew. Nak'Ehim's plans had been reduced to dust by her hand, and her delegation... speaking of which...

"Tell me, did you ever find a suitable use for what was left of that... thing Nak'Ehim had created?"

He would very much like to see it.

Medja​

 

[Medja]

The sorceress listened intently as Ashuanar spoke. An interesting take, to be sure, to count his sister's actions as merely being the result of improper upbringing. Circumstances certainly affected one's outcome, but was it not ultimately up to oneself to determine one's actions?
"She was made free and she chose treachery and hardship. Luxury or no, she was the master of her own fate...Iesha could have sought you out and lived like a queen, but instead she rots in a cell, dismembered and broken." She pondered the traitor's course of actions, then decided to use her own plight as an example. "I was born into hardship and I did not choose to burn the world down, did I?"

It was true: Iesha and her forces were like leaves scattered before a storm. Medja had honestly expected far more resistance from the lot, but proper and trustworthy allies as well as her own abilities had made the matter almost trivial. A shame, really; she would've enjoyed being able to really cut loose. She smiled.

"The imposter's form degraded to naught but dust within days. Without a soul to bind it to this world, it could not sustain itself." She gestured to a nearby wall where the amulet hung even now. "Ordinarily I would've had the thing put into a glass display in my archive room, but I thought you might wish to observe it. I have no plans of deposing our dear emperor, so here it shall remain for the time being."

 

[Ashuanar]

Quickly he began to realize just how small he was. It was not a belittling sense, only a humbling one. Medja too - like Fieravene had proven, like Gerra had - was very wise.

His sister made the choice, and ultimately it was a poor one.

"I was born into hardship and I did not choose to burn the world down, did I?"

There was certainly no lack of that in this life it seemed.

Still, now something else he had not realized about her. With the way she carried herself would have you believe she was royalty - and to his eyes she may as well have been. He'd assumed she had been one who lived largely in comfortable peace, who may have endured some strife. A fault on his part: far too quick to judge, not that it would have diminished her to him. But hearing of her hardship did indeed elevate her in his mind. She'd achieved much even before the Empire.

Not so much could be said of him. Another, humbling realization.

He looked to the amulet she regarded, and a sting made him wince at its sight. His hand touched hers which come to a comforting rest on his arm, and then he stood. He strode over to the amulet. He reached for it, anger coursing through his veins...

He would tear it from where it hung, and if his strength could serve then he'd crush it in his hand.

But when his fingers nearly touched it, he retracted, and slowly pulled away. He breathed deeply, looking it over closely before turning away, leaving it behind.

"It could perhaps prove useful."

How? Who could say.

He approached her again, coming to stand near to her. As he looked at her, he found himself imagining what kind of trouble had found her - what hardships she spoke of. It caused a warmth in his chest to rise, a desire for vengeance against those who had caused her pain. A hardening against those that would aim to do it again... and a suspicion as to who he may have to slay, how, and if he could bring himself to?

Even his own sister had turned against him, and it was Medja who had come. He could indeed bring himself to do the same, no matter who it would place against him.

He offered her his hand, and knowing full well he could simply have it done for them he said, "come, let me make you a drink."

Medja​

 

[Medja]

There was much to be said of the sorceress' past, but she rarely ever spoke of it, at least not in detail. Still, she felt oddly comfortable around Ashuanar, perhaps a result of their shared ordeal together. A bit of prodding and she might actually open up for once, she mused to herself. The vizier's touch upon her hand shook her from her thoughts. She blinked, momentarily stunned by the surprisingly tender feeling.

Medja observed as Ashuanar stood and moved across the room. For a moment she thought he might shatter the amulet. She wouldn't have minded, it was largely decorative to her at this point. Again, she was surprised when he instead breathed and put it away. The vizier was far less temperamental than she was, that was certain.

"It could. Hmm...perhaps we could pull a prank on Gerra with it." She giggled, perhaps a bit uncharacteristically. It was strangely easy to make herself more...vulnerable than normal around this man. Carrying herself the way she did at all times had its advantages, but it did grow tiring. She felt that it was nice to let her guard down once in a while...such a rarity that she could do so these days.

"come, let me make you a drink."

She hummed back at him.
"That's supposed to be my job, dear vizier...but if you insist, I won't stop you." She teased, extending her hand to grasp his. The bar at the back of the room was fully stocked with a variety of exotic and domestic liquors and mixers. Any liquid refreshment the heart desired was likely locatable within, or could be fetched by servants if not.

 

[Ashuanar]

"That's supposed to be my job, dear vizier...but if you insist, I won't stop you."

"I insist," he replied with a nod, taking her hand and leading her toward the bar. As they drew close, he admired the variety he had to choose from. Many of these spirits he had never laid eyes on, or even heard of. But of course, having been a tribesmen of a once nomadic trading band, he was familiar with a fair number of them. Not only this, but he had brought with him a little special something. As spice traders, he'd learned a few different tricks from his father as a boy. Things his mother likely would have rather he hadn't learned so early on.

But, it had helped him make more coin for the family. It was beneficial. In many ways.

He strode along the collection, reaching in for a particular bottle. Its colour was all he needed to recognize, it reflected the light in such a way he could remember it well. Some kind of rum he believed. He truly wasn't quite sure, but it was popular with sailors. He himself had taken a liking to it a... young age.

Taking the bottle, he set it aside and took from within his robe a small box. He displayed it, and opened it. There was a small bit of spice inside, some he had carried with him for many... many years now. Nearly gone by the looks of it, but some yet for a few more occasions.

"This... does not change much. But I find it does add a particular flair that is hard to place, but easy to enjoy."

He sprinkled some in to each of their glasses before pouring them a modest amount, and he handed her a glass, "it seems that there is less difference between us than I had once thought - yet again. Tell me..." he drank, "...and forgive me for saying. I would not have expected to hear of such hardships from you..." he paused, "rather... I am saddened to hear of it."

Medja ​

 

[Medja]

She found herself blushing somewhat as the much larger man led her across the room and was actually flustered enough by the gesture that she allowed herself to walk across the floor instead of floating. Yeah, a drink sounded like exactly what she needed right about now. She accepted the glass graciously, cocking her head slightly as the Abtati added the unfamiliar spice to the drink.

"Hmm, not spiking this, are we? It's hardly necessary, I assure you." She teased, recalling their interaction in the tent at Salitra's outskirts. She knew, of course, Ashuanar was far too much of a gentleman to try such a thing, but she couldn't help but poke a bit of fun.

She clinked her glass to his then sipped at her drink and blinked a few times. The particular rum he had selected was a familiar one, but the spice did in fact change the experience somewhat. The flavors danced across her tongue and she smiled, swallowed, then shivered slightly.
"Mmmm...I'll have to add some of that to my own stock."

Tell me..." he drank, "...and forgive me for saying. I would not have expected to hear of such hardships from you..." he paused, "rather... I am saddened to hear of it."

She cursed herself silently, realizing that she had once again put the attention on herself. She sighed aloud and brought her hand to her face shamefully.
"Ah, forgive me. I did not mean to make this about me..." Yet, the idea of actually sharing for once did have some appeal to it, and she would not deny Ashuanar such information if he truly wanted to learn more. "...but, if you wish to know...I was not born into this position as Ragash's conductor. Far from it...I clawed my way here from nothing."

Mixed feelings marked the woman's face as she remembered her origins. Pain from her less than fortunate beginnings marred her, but pride in what she had become shone through.

 

[Ashuanar]

A light chuckle came from him, the thought of spiking her drink being the furthest thing from his mind. But he couldn't help wonder what a little less composure would do for the courtier... he at least had seen little of that. Perhaps that would soon change.

He himself was not one to indulge too often. However this experience was quickly bringing into question to that infrequency. To be granted a level of status as well as responsibility that the two of them shared, surely that had earned time for some leisure on occasion.

Ashuanar grinned, pleased to find Medja enjoying his little addition. It was hardly much, but it was... unique. He'd have to go about finding more, but in the meantime he closed the small case and left it there on the bar. He'd had plenty over time, and usually cared only to share it with others anyway... and there would be more.

Her sigh...​

As she spoke, he read the dismay on he features as clearly as he would feel his own, and he approached.

"...but, if you wish to know...I was not born into this position as Ragash's conductor. Far from it...I clawed my way here from nothing."

He drew near to her, very near. And with a confidence he had no exerted in Salitra his hand came forth, and brushed lightly against her cheek. His eyes followed his hand for a moment, before locking with hers, "if you wish to share, then consider it to be for me... to know you better."

Medja ​

 

[Medja]

Medja, for her part, was no stranger to a bit of intoxication. She was certainly no alcoholic, by any means, but she did enjoy her wine and had attended a number of parties in her many years. She also tended to get a little...unhinged...when she overindulged. Her encounter with Aivrid and Fieravene was perhaps the most recent and outstanding occurrence. She was familiar with her limits, however, and was very intentional with when and where she went passed them.

Ashuanar's confidence did not go unnoticed, nor unrewarded. The sorceress' face flushed almost immediately, the Abtati's touch unexpected, but not unwelcome. Her mind was reeling once again, just as it had been when the Vizier of War had gone missing some time ago. Why? What was it about him that was different, that shook her confidence so? It would have been infuriating if it weren't so...entrancing.

"if you wish to share, then consider it to be for me... to know you better."

She grinned and her gaze relaxed noticeably as she shook the initial shock of the moment.
"Well, aren't we urbane today..." She replied, absentmindedly bringing her hand up to meet his and leaning into the touch.

Now the question was: how much was she willing to tell him? She had lived many lifetimes and many more lifestyles, something that most would not be readily accepting of. It might just be easiest to start at the beginning and be vague...if he got more pointed, well...she'd cross that bridge when she came to it.

"I...grew up on the streets of Ragash as an orphan. Nicer streets than most, surely, but even that nicest cities have their slums." Her gaze grew distant as her memories slipped into the distant past. "I grew dissatisfied with the hand I'd been dealt. I hated looking at what others had, what I could've been, knowing that it was all there and just out of my reach...just because my parents had been so destitute and shit that they chose to abandon me."

There was little sadness in her voice. She had never known her family, not that she could remember, anyway. There was no pain of loss to be had; after all, she had never had such attachments in the first place. Her tone began to twist into anger, instead, and her eyes fell to the floor. It was that fire that had driven her to begin with, after all, and recalling such things somehow made the wounds feel fresh again.

"Ambition compelled me. I did not care what I had to do to rise, I simply did it. I knew no shame. I stepped on anyone who got in my way. I used people. I ruined lives. I did what I had to, to learn my trades and take what I believed was rightfully mine." Her gaze finally returned to meet the vizier's, tired and bitter. "I am not a good person, Ashuanar. You may not like knowing me better."

 

[Ashuanar]

"Today, may be all we ever have," he mused past his smile. Given his recent turmoil, it was likely a present possibility, however unlikely.

Ashuanar listened to her quite intently, leading her back to sit where they had been prior. He was no stranger to a life of struggle, but to be brought up an orphan. At least for the first few years of his life, though spent humbly, were in the company of his forebears. He thought it terrible for those young ones who had no such luxury.

...just because my parents had been so destitute and shit that they chose to abandon me."

Shock riddled his features. How could any parent dismiss their child? Shock faded into a frown, and his eyes cast away, "I could hardly believe such things before coming to the cities... it is much different in the desert."

Hardly better. But different.

As she spoke, he felt the change to grasped at her heart, and looking to her he could almost see the strings of those memories that flooded past her large, green eyes. His own expression too had grown dour, but his heart ached...

"I am not a good person, Ashuanar. You may not like knowing me better."

He let out an almost broken chuckle. His eyes had even swollen some, staying the tears of his empathy.

He'd thought hard on the discussion he had shared with the Lady Fieravene, within the depths of his mind in the induced rest of his healing. It was his place... in the eyes of the people, Gerra was the aspect of their salvation. But he - head of the army, the aspect of their victory, the harbinger of their enemies deaths. The sword of the Empire itself, in his own hand - there was no place for tears from him.

But Medja...

She knew. He was nothing to her other than another man. Perhaps even just another obstacle. But she knew he was different than what he had been made to be. That made it harder for him not to be... in fact he hardly even tried.

"I dont know what makes a good person, anymore," he said, resting a gentle hand on her leg, "but I know I'm quite fond of the one in front of me now."

Medja ​

 

[Medja]

Was this...genuine empathy? Medja watched the vizier in turn, seeing his reactions to what little information she gave him about herself. No one had cared before...not that she had ever...really...told anyone...
How strange this was, sharing these things. It felt relieving. It felt good. Perhaps he would be the first to know everything.

"but I know I'm quite fond of the one in front of me now."

"I..." She stumbled on her words. For once, she was unsure of what to say next, unsure of what to do. She smiled and settled for simply leaning into him, pressing her weight into his side and feeling his warmth. "...thank you, Asuanar."

She hadn't known she would feel so comfortable doing so until she actually did it. Leaning on the Abtati was...pleasant.

"...I am also fond of you." She murmured, gazing up at him. Then she shook herself and pulled away, visibly flustered despite her best attempts at concealing it. She smoothed her robe with her hands and cleared her throat.

"B-but, I have hogged my share of the attention. I asked you here to discuss you and how you're feeling, not to sulk over my past. Please, tell me: how have you been doing in light of events with your sister?" She asked, concern in her tone.

 

[Ashuanar]

Ashuanar smiled to her, pleased to hear that she shared at least some of what he had begun to feel for her. Feelings he still found, interesting. He'd never before considered courting anyone outside of his own people, but... well, the world was a very big place. How could one confine themselves to such things? Who knew what would come anyway, he enjoyed her company despite what should come one way or the other.

He chuckled at her concern for the direction of the conversation - though he did so kindly. He could appreciate the sentiments, and even thought they were prudent. He knew within himself he was not quite... right. Things had happened to him that would likely go unnoticed for some time: he had seen many people destroyed by things that came to them much further back in their lives than they would have ever imagined being able to come forward from. He would need to be careful not to allow the same troubles to follow him so unrecognized.

Her concern eased him, and his smile again softened, "I do take comfort in speaking with you like this, it is not often anyone has shown... compassion, like this. Not to me."

He drank, and swirled it around in his mouth for a moment before swallowing, "I am doing fairly well... it has been many years since I have seen her. In hindsight, it does not please me to have her hanging in that cell as she does. Perhaps it is better to end it..." another drink, finishing the glass, "... but I have lived a long time believing I would never truly reunite with any of my kin. After this... I think I would prefer it stay that way for any others who may yet live.

I am no longer anyone's brother, or anyone's son. I am Ashuanar. And that is all."

His smile grew cool with sorrow. But mixed with the grief was contentment. Then a side-eyed look to her, "bound only to my own will, which for now, my will is to serve."

Medja ​

 

[Medja]

"I do take comfort in speaking with you like this, it is not often anyone has shown... compassion, like this. Not to me."

That was...disheartening. Ashuanar was a warrior, certainly, but he was also a very kind man. The very thought that the simple acts of extending a listening ear and basic physical contact were rarities to him brought sadness to Medja's heart. She found herself already closing the distance between the two of them once again.

She listened intently as he spoke of his sister, of his family, of how he'd come to view his kin because of the actions of that traitorous wench. As he finished his sharing his thoughts with her, Medja gently placed a hand on his chest.
"The truest of kin are those we form our own bonds with, not those with whom we share blood." She replied, softly, gently. In this moment she shared his sorrow, her emerald eyes staring deep into his. "I hope that the pain she has caused you does not harden your heart to forming new bonds, Ashuanar."

By now there was little space between the two. In fact, Medja was instinctively leaning onto the Abtati, any awkwardness or unease long since vanished from her thoughts. Right now all she could think of was caring for him.

 

[Ashuanar]

The coolness of him faded, and the warmth returned to his smile. Her words were sweet to him, and carried on the tune of her voice there was an added gratitude. The sides of his eyes became soft, and as she came to lean on him his arm came up and around her in a caring embrace - almost of its own accord. But he did nothing to stop it.

"I could never let anything stop me from-"

His voice caught, a hint of uncertainty marring him, and his eyes drifted to the side. But no. If his most recent plight had revealed anything to him it was this one thing for certain.

"Medja, I..."

His gaze again met hers, an intensity in them very unusual for him. A strength. It was not bolstered by any title, or prestige of his power. No, in the presence of her he was certain he was second in these regards. But the certainty in him regarded only that which was between them two...

"Only the thought of you," he whispered, his hand coming up to brush gently against her cheek, "the image of your face... if you had not come... you'd have been the last thing I thought of."

Medja ​

 

[Medja]

Throughout her long existence, if there was one thing Medja never truly felt a sense of it was home. That feeling of true comfort, of knowing that you belonged where you were; it was a feeling she had long chased, but was unable to attain. Yet suddenly, in Ashuanar's caress, she understood. For the first time in her life, Medja felt at home. Her heart beat quicker in her chest, and she let out a contented sigh as she wrapped an arm around the Abtati's chest.

Waves ran over her. She wrenched her eyes shut and grit her teeth. He couldn't have known how she had acted in his absence. He needed to know.

"I...when you were gone I was a wreck. I felt like I was drowning and I did not know why. I couldn't imagine what I would have done if I hadn't--" She stammered through her sentence, emotions running wild just as when Ashuanar had been taken. She had thought his return would quiet her mind, but in truth she was more anxious than ever. Her heart pounded, her mind raced, and then...

Then she felt the soft touch of Ashuanar's hand against her face and everything went quiet. A single tear rolled down her cheek and onto Ashuanar's finger. Medja clasped her own hand gently over his and raised her head to meet his gaze. She looked to him, expectantly. Longingly. Her breath caught in her throat and she yearned for what was to come.

 

[Ashuanar]

With age, he had learned, comes wisdom. Only the experiences one goes through makes them who they are. But, too often the wisest of folk were often also plagued with the most sorrow. And from her, he felt that absence. The emptiness that knowledge often brought, he had felt it too in ways. But he heard in her words, and he saw in her eyes something different. Almost, a hopefulness.

He too had felt it rise within him. Hearing her speak of him so... earnestly... he in truth did not expect it.

"Medja... I... don't know how much longer I could have held out if you hadn't come for me..."

She had always seemed hardened. But to hear, and see her like this, and drew him. It compelled him. He wished never for her to feel such uncertainty. He wiped her tear with a gentle brush, and leaned his face down closer to her, whispering,"...but you did come for me," before placing his lips softly against hers.

Medja​

 

[Medja]

The world fell away in that moment. For those brief seconds, there was no Empire, no weight of responsibility, no stress or duty or anything else. All that existed was the two of them, locked in the tender embrace of their affection for each other. It was an unfamiliar sensation, to kiss someone and feel something beyond simple infatuation, to feel something...meaningful. Even the way their lips met was different than what she was accustomed to: gentle, loving; there was passion in it, but no aggression, no hunger like those that had come before.

There was peace in those moments. When at last she broke the kiss, she sighed dreamily, gazed at Ashuanar as though dazed, then snuggled into him, wrapping her arm around his chest.
"I could not leave you...and I never could have forgiven myself if I had been too late." She murmured. The sorceress didn't know what would come next, and she refused to let the fear of losing the here and now overtake the comfort she felt now. For the moment, she was content to lie atop the man and feel his warmth.

 

[Ashuanar]

There was a contented rumbling in his chest as she came to lay against him. There was an odd feeling, whirling around in his gut. Nervousness, he supposed, though he was not entirely sure why. He'd never quite felt such a way toward anyone before, and in a time where he would think himself to be most relaxed there was that nagging sensation, one he did not entirely dislike.

Perhaps excitement was a better description.

"And it is not something I will soon forget."

He wrapped his arm around her, and ran his hand lightly across her arm,"well now," he said with a hint of amusement, "you've certainly managed to get my mind off of things."

Medja ​

 

[Medja]

"Mmm..." A throaty, satisfied hum worked it's way into the air as Ashuanar ran his hand across Medja's arm. The vizier nestled in again, a bit of her usual playful attitude surfacing once again. "Have I already? Here I had such a therapeutic evening planned out for you."

She reached her hand into the man's robe and played her fingers across his bare chest, the familiarity of their first face-to-face encounter not lost on her. Though she felt the scars left behind by the man's sister, she was not focused on them at the moment. Instead, she was more concerned with the surprising smoothness of his skin and the contour of his muscles, well trained by battle. She bit the corner of her lip unconsciously.

"We could carry on as planned, or..." She walked her fingers up Ashuanar's chest, then gently slid her hand up to cradle his jaw, her tone low and sultry. "If it suits you, I could continue...'taking your mind off of things.'"

A kittenish smile danced across her lips as she finished. She couldn't help but giggle quietly as she gauged his reaction.