Private Tales Never trust the shadows

[Fingal]

"I really adore unravelling a mystery," Fingal said.

Fingal placed one hand on her waist. The other swept blonde curls back over her shoulder before settling on her waist to pull her tight to him.

Golden eyes studied hers. Everything was a game and adventure, but few mortals had held his interest. She had his. All of it.

His kind could live for a very long time. Many chose a more youthful, exotic appearance. Instead Fingal wore the deep lines around his eyes. His face was a map of the places he had been and the things he had seen. It changed when he smiled. It changed when he stared at Anais with an intensity that could bore into her.

With nothing else to say, he stooped down and brought his lips to hers. The cool air stilled. The whispered of the trees fell to silence.

 

[Anais]

Ana's smile brightened and she gave a breath of a laugh at his answer. "I can relate.." her brow quirked. He was certainly a mystery that she was thoroughly enjoying unpicking. She let her hands slip around his neck as she looked up at him, falling entirely at the mercy of his intense stare, like the golden hour sun soaking warmth into her bones.

That smile of his sent an addictive rush of adrenaline through her, and she trembled slightly as he bent to kiss her. Her eyes closed and she sighed, drawing herself up onto her tiptoes. Her heart hammered in her chest, fully aware of the silence around them, of how alone they were and of how much she wanted so much more.

 

[Fingal]

Even the trees offered them little more than a hushed whisper. They were a barrier between the pair and the rest of the world, not a wall of gossiping onlookers.

A soft, content murmur came from the back of his throat. His touch was deferential and gentle. His hands smoothed over the curve of her spine, keeping her close as his tongue swept between parted lips. It was a contrast to the intensity that she had seen in his eyes. Fire and water.

They wouldn't be interrupted now. Not by her friends. Not by the enemies he had made within the close-knit community already.

He lifted his head just enough to take in a breath. Her name rode back out on the same air.

 

[Anais]

The sound he made and the way he breathed her name spilled a shudder down her back in the wake of his hands, his hands and lips setting every nerve in her body alight. It was pure anticipation of being together in a way that was more than words, in a way that was so completely tangible. The thought of his body, just the whisper of my imagination, and she was incapacitated with need. No thoughts, no focus, only desire and the pain of waiting.

It was a bad idea, and had she any room in her mind for logic and sense she'd likely have made a more sensible decision, but all she knew was that he, that this was what she wanted. "Yes?" she whispered back with a seductive smile on her voice. Right or wrong, he was the most fun thing in her world. Her lips grazed his jaw as her fingers deftly conquered the issue of clothes. He'd seen her, at least from a distance, but she had only pondered at what he looked like in the flesh. Beautiful, she guessed, especially in this light.

 

[Fingal]

Fingal groaned at the first sunlight streaming through the canvas of the caravan.

He hurt. Damnable iron had cut his skin and even the bathing in the moonlight would not help it heal quickly.

Someone cleared their throat outside the caravan. Fingal sighed and sat upright. He reached for his shift and pulled it over his head.

Regardless of his wound, he suspected that the day was going to unfold in a dramatic fashion.

He had seriously hurt one of the gypsies, even if the boy had started it. Then he had absconded with one of their most beautiful dancers for much of the night.

It was not the kind of community that easily trusted outsiders. He had helped them against the goblin raiders and that, he hoped, would count for something. Only Anais knew how he had helped them in his other form.

Fingal stepped out of the caravan. He threw his boots down onto the ground and sat down to pull them on.

"Good morning," he said pleasantly.

Oliver stood before a small group, waiting for him. The man had looked after Anais and her mother. Fingal assumed the group was essentially the remaining community leaders, come to discuss what to do with him.

He hoped they hadn't made their decision yet.

 

[Anais]

"Aye. Mornin'." Victor said flatly, and was about to say more when Oliver set a hand to his shoulder, silencing him. Oliver was still ghastly pale, but had regained his strength enough to be on his feet again.

"Radagan." the man greeted kindly enough, though there was an edge of foreboding in his tone. "Seems we're goin about a different route, but you're a half day on foot to the nearest town from here. Polina's packed you some food for the journey, in good faith. You've helped us, and for that we're grateful, but I think it's time we be parting ways."

Polina stepped forward and set the basket of wrapped foods on the ground, her expression sour.

"Best get goin, before the others wake up." Victor added, ignoring a look from Oliver.

 

[Fingal]

"Well that is a shame," Fingal replied.

It would be more than a shame. It would be quite painful. The bond he had established with Anais was not ready to be stretched and torn by physical distance just yet.

He could think of a few options. Admittedly having Anais 'gifted' a new hound at the next town was going to be a little demeaning.

"You have been most kind. For the most part," he said calmly. He was not from a powerful order of his kind that could have passed a glamour over the entire caravan.

"But I was hoping to stay until you reached the crossing at the River Hitch. What if I spoke to the boy? Tried to put this bad feeling aside?"