Private Tales Steppebound

[Vyx'aria]

Vyx’aria stood in silence, her blades slick with dust and elemental ichor. The room had fallen still, save for the lingering echo of battle and the faint pulse of magic from the crystal in Ispir’s arms.

She sheathed her blades with slow, practiced movements. Her eyes, dull now with fatigue instead of fury, lifted toward him when he spoke.

She eyed him curiously, wondering what he gleaned. But she set it aside, easing back into her methodical routine.

“Let’s keep going,” she murmured.

But when she took a step, her footing was uneasy. The impact of it sent a tremor through her frame, and she stiffened, then slowly, steadily, sank to the ground. Her knees bent with reluctant grace, and she collapsed into a seated position. Her breathing was quiet but uneven, the toll of injuries, battles, and too many sleepless days catching up to her all at once.

She didn’t say anything more. Just sat, back against a jagged stone, her head tipped slightly forward, eyes half-closed, breathing heavy. In the surface world, she slept during the day, hidden away where no one could see her truly vulnerable. But now… now there was no time, no privacy. Only exhaustion.

And for once, she let it show.

 

[Ispir Sione]

Ispir would only have time to take a single step, to nod at Vyx'aria and her murmured words, until he was tested again. This time there was nothing more pressing, nothing more urgent, than rushing to her. So with a sharp CLANG that at least proved the crystals were durable, as soon as Ria began to sink to the ground she would find a small, soft frame there to support her. Two arms gently circling her waist as Ispir slowly, gently helped guide her to sit down. He wasn't able to stop it, but he was able to whisper gently as he helped her sit back against a nearby rock.

"I've got you."

Was all he whispered. A gentle, knowing smile on his face as he gave a sigh and removed her cloak just to add it to his own around her shoulders. The rock would never be a COMFORTABLE seat but the softness of the two travel cloaks may at least make it cozy enough for her to rest. Bundling the cloak around Ria's shoulders and even rolling up the hood behind her head to make something like a pillow he would turn and make a small stone pit from the ample stone in the area. From his travel pack he would retrieve a small, treated bundle of tinder, a pot, some water, and some very carefully wrapped jerky bits, potatoes, cheese and press-dried parsley.

Making a small hanging pot to make some nice, hot soup Ispir would chew on his lip for a moment. Vaguely embarrassed, or rather VERY embarrassed, as he awkwardly tried to move behind the rock and get a waterskin to her lips, then tried sitting beside her and holding it steady, only to finally relent to the soft blush on his cheeks and gently sat in her lap, facing her, tenderly guiding a small drink to her lips from the pouch as he murmured.

"Careful. Not too fast, okay?"

Closing the waterskin he would set it to the side and grab Ria a bowl of VERY road-friendly cheesy potato soup. Nestling down into her lap, knees on either side of her thighs, gentle aquamarine eyes would gaze out her through a hazy cloud of mist, his breathe gently cooling the first bite, before he held it up for her and giggled a tiny bit.

"You really are pretty awesome....."

That smile would fade after a moment to an entirely new emotion. A pout, of which she had seen many on Ispir's face during their time together, but.... different. This one was.... authoritative? Vaguely reprimanding? Neither of those words were soft or kind enough to truly encapsulate the genuine concern in his eyes but were ones she was likely much more familiar with. His words growing just a bit more firm as he added.

"..... but.... please don't push yourself so hard, okay Ria? You have me worried sick."​

 

[Vyx'aria]

Vyx’aria didn’t flinch when he reached her. She was too tired. Too wrung out from the battle, from the endless barrage of tests, from the days of sleepless vigilance above ground. She let herself be guided to the stone, her breath shallow, her limbs leaden. When the cloak was bundled around her shoulders, she gave a low grunt, her signature response when she had no words, somewhere between acknowledgment and begrudging approval.

She didn’t stop him when he pressed the waterskin to her lips. Didn’t protest when he awkwardly fumbled through his ministrations. But when he climbed into her lap, the motion startled her just enough to draw a faint blink of confusion.

Her muscles stiffened.

Then slowly, steadily, she relaxed.

He was small, warm, and radiated an unflinching sort of devotion that she didn’t know what to do with. There was no seduction to it, no ulterior motive. Just care. Honest and unguarded.

“You are very brave,” she muttered hoarsely, her grin lopsided with fatigue. “Climbing into a drow’s lap.”

When the scent of food reached her nose, her stomach answered with a quiet growl, far too quiet to embarrass her, but enough to make her sigh. She accepted the bowl he offered, bringing it to her lips and sipping the broth slowly.

“Tastes better than my cooking,” she admitted.

Her voice trailed off. She watched him through the steam curling between them, her crimson eyes quiet and unreadable for a long moment.

“…Where will you go, after all this?” she asked softly. Not as a demand. Not as a test. Just a question, a rare glimpse into her thoughts, peeled back by weariness.

 

[Ispir Sione]

Ispir would almost jump, the bowl jostling in his hands, as Vyx'aria muttered her hoarse, teasing words. A fiery stab of guilt and embarrassment lancing through him in the moment because despite the fact he was genuinely simply trying to take care of her..... gods seeing her there, tousled, grinning and teasing was enough to make him turn beet red along with her words. She was pretty, he thought, very pretty.

He was so distracted by the grin, the fierceness despite her exhaustion, that she was able to pluck the bowl he had intended to feed her with right from his hands and he sputtered.

"W-Wai... Ahh... Uhmm....."

As she went silent Ispir would continue blushing deeply, pouting at her but not truly upset, his hands now left with nothing to do but awkwardly fiddle with the unused wooden spoon in his grasp as he worked up enough cohesive thoughts to protest.

"W-Well I... I was going to feed you. The rock behind you is too big for me to rest on and trying to sit beside you and hold it was too awkward s-so...."

Despite the fact what he said was TRUE even to his ears it sounded like a horrible, awful excuse. One that made him burn with shyness enough to melt down to a genuine answer right after it.

"B-Besides. I'm not sitting in a Drow's lap...."

He met her gaze for a moment, a gaze that had been dancing and wandering anywhere but on her previously, just to say.

"I'm sitting in your lap, Ria.~"

And there was not a single drop of deception, or venomous meaning, behind those words. In fact it was in every way the opposite. Her comment about it being better than her own cooking, though, would earn a pleased, cheeky grin and a small wiggle of his hips. That pure, happy energy being expressed without thought or conscious decision until.... she asked him where he planned to go.

Ispir paused. Which was odd.

Not because the question itself was odd, far from it, but because for the first time since his awakening he found himself.... really thinking about it. Or more accurately he found himself acknowledging something there, with her, something that he often ignored or was so caught up in the light and song of his travels he simply didn't notice it. Twirling the spoon in his hands, spinning it between nimble fingers, he would look off to the side and purse his lips. Answering slowly, tentatively, as if he was feeling out the words even as they passed his lips.

"I.... I'm going to keep travelling, I suppose?"

That answer that was usually the end of it, that answer that was TRUE, sat like ash on his tongue for the first time and Ispir would let out a shaky breathe as he hunched his shoulders up. Deciding, in this moment, to trust her. To tell her something he had never told anyone before. Simply because he hadn't ever confronted it himself.

"I feel at home on the road..... I have... wanderlust. Really bad. But...."

Exhaling a shaky breathe he didn't realize he'd been holding he looked down sadly at her lap, shrugging softly.

".... that's because.... nowhere really feels like home."

Those last few words came out more shaky than he intended, sounding weak, sounding fragile, even to him. Enough to make him wince a bit and grip the spoon in two white-knuckled hands. When he did speak again it was hurried, rushed, an excuse, a cover-up, and a bad one at that.

"It still feels.... nice to wander around though! I still enjoy it but...."

He shrugged, weakly.

"Every light has it's shadow, I guess. Every bad has it's good. I like wandering around but always feel homesick for a home I don't even remember."

He went silent for a few moments, mouth suddenly feeling dry, briefly meeting Ria's eyes, before looking away and crossing his arms timidly across his chest.

"I've never.... told anyone that before...."​