Private Tales The Last Resort

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

A timeless moment.

In that piece of the infinite there was nothing but the two of them on this scarred, cold world. Some kind of urgency seemed to guide her hands as she embraced him as well, seeking and finding comfort in another. Other needs were at play, but somehow the physical desire - the selfsame thing that had expressed itself endlessly in her mind, amid the rest of the tangle - had been subsumed by a deeper need.

How could something physical and debased compare to something higher, something purer and sweeter? In that moment, the concept of love, sweet and pure, was a laughable notion. How could such a thing be, so recently had they met? Even being preserved in the face of violence by his benevolence did not earn such regard.

But all the moving pieces, all the little things...they add up, gaining weight and momentum as they go. Could simple regard go further? Without base desire getting in the way?

She sighed as he embraced her, flesh alive and well, aware of the desire and pushing it aside in favor of peace of mind, of shared experience. Of understanding, and respect, all the things that made relationships between the peoples of the world work. She clung to him, understanding that something profound had been discovered, something she known a long time ago, perhaps, and simply forgotten.

Breaking that sweet kiss, leaning into his chest breathlessly, tears gleaming on her cheek - not of pain, for once, but of hope, of some glimmering thing. Ephemeral, doomed to fade with time...but here, for now, in this moment.

 

[Draedamyr]

Taking a rash step was not the usual mark of a swordsman who have lived so long. Draedamyr's focus was economy of movement, drawing the other side into believing that rash step was the risk worth taking. For once, he had weighed up the risk and despite the seemingly slim chance of success taken it.

The elf let out a soft sigh, releasing a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding. As Seska settled in against his chest he felt some of the tension melt out of his body in relief.

Seconds were fleeting things to them, but the right moment could last a lifetime. That one would have been well and truly committed to mind. He did not know what came next and that excited him. It was a long time since he had seen such possibilities ahead and felt so strongly about them.

Draedamyr let her rest against his chest, content to let the weight of the moment settle.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

She wanted to ask why, and did not wish to ask it at the same time. The moment was morep recious than any mountain of gold, all the more so for her inability to understand all of it, what all of it meant. Perhaps, right now, it did not matter. She was content to rest her head against his chest, feel the slow rise and fall of his chest. To bask in the warmth of companionship, in the strength of another.

"I do not know that I am worth this regard," she said after a long while, lifting her head to look at him, eye to eye. "But I shall not spurn it." Still looking him in the eye, she reached up to brush a hand lightly upon his cheek. She did not deserve this. Perhaps it was why she remained alone for much of her life. The infrequent trysts, the unexpected connections with others in the dark mists of time, all of them flowed by and became nothing but a ghost, lurking in the past before the next arose.

It made times like this very moment so very much like bolts out of the blue. She turned away from his eyes, but not out of embarrassment. The sun had fallen, and only the faintest glow of it remained on the horizon. Her hand remained on his face, cupping a cheek. The light of the fire cast lurid shadows.

The weight of the day was heavy on her shoulders, and the hidden tension that had been drained so suddenly by a single, simple kiss, always bore its stones on her back. She did not complain, instead moving to rise and sit on his lap, a much better place to conserve their warmth.

Another kiss would not be amiss, either, the sweet taste still on her lips.

 

[Draedamyr]

"I understand," he replied. He had seen how the pain of her past cut far deeper than any injuries she had sustained on that ridge. He had tried to imagine being burdened with such guilt and had found it was beyond his comprehension. This evening was not for the past. It was not even about their future, as much as unfolding events would influence it. It was about now. It was about them.

Seska being tucked against him also suited their height difference. Her hair was remarkably long, reaching all to way to his thigh from where she sat. On a whim, he grasped an errant strand of silver. Running it between his fingers, he brought it back under control and placed his palm across her cheek. His own was always kept tightly bound and out of the way. Hers seemed to be as free and chaotic as the magic she wielded.

Finding that he truly had nothing else to say on the matter Draedamyr followed the connection between their hands. He tilted his head to meet her lips in an ardent kiss. The fire crackled, as ignored as all the years behind them as they agreed to take solace in one another's arms.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

She had to be careful not to let herself be fully swept away in this moment. The taste of his mouth was sweeter than the wine she had drank, and she was intensely aware of her body just then. Every touch was electric. Even his fingers in her hair sent thrills through every inch of her being, both physical and spirutually.

How long had it been since she had even been this intimate with someone? An eternity. Ultimately it required absolute trust, for she had not only placed herself within his power, but had opened the dusty halls within her heart to a man only just met. After all, what was a month to an immortal?

An eternity. All the time in the world, just as this one second spanned centuries, purely subjective.

She was caught by his words as much as his deeds. He had spared her life and, more important to her, forgiven of her sins. Such blessing should only have come from an anointed of the Goddess, but she and all her faithful save one were long dead.

She reached up with both hands, cradling his face gently between them, and ardent kisses became more enflamed. She was on the cusp of surrendering to this tide. She was not sure that she should stop herself, and only exhaustion might defeat her in this moment.

 

[Draedamyr]

Oxygen starved lungs demanded air after a few minutes. Draedamyr gasped for breath when their lips finally broke, their foreheads pressed gently together. He was intimately aware of every breath of her own fanning across his lips. It had not been like the first, tentative kiss. That bridge had been formed then and now it could carry their affection cross the divide.

Beneath his burning lungs his head beat began to slow its rhythm. Draedamyr felt more alive than he had for years. His thumb traced across her cheekbone and he revelled in the simple touch.

Draedamyr couldn't quite put his finger on when the sense of attraction had started, but it was probably the moment she had joined him beside that bar with the world crumbling and demanded a bottle from behind it.

They were so close that she would feel his lips curl up into a smile. If not, she would see it reach his eyes. Just inches apart he was not searching for anything when he opened his eyes and looked into her own. His was comfortable to just study every fleck and detail and to let the moment sink in.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

Her breath was short and cheeks flushed, so caught up in the moment had she become. Everything seemed to be rushing towards a conclusion, and she could see the writing plain and clear, and still did not know whether she should stop. Her thoughts were becoming murky and her actions not necessarily guided by a rational mind anymore, driven by primal imperatives.

He broke the kiss first, but she kept after it for a moment, eyes glassy with the intoxication of the moment, heavily lidded. Looking into those deep green eyes, cast in the shadow of firelight, she thought she could see into his soul. Not a pure man, a soul without its stains...but certainly someone too good for her. Desire for him raged within her like a fire unchecked in the woods, and she made to draw him closer, to ensnare him in her own fiery heart, entwine him in-

No! Too fast!

Her eyes opened wide, breath coming short and quick, bosom rising and falling as she stared into he flushed face. With a startling realization, she could see that he was looking at her, and had not let his base instincts overwhelm his good sense. He could have easily taken advantage of her (and is it really being taken advantage of if you want it?) and had not. Regardless, she would have stripped naked in the firelight and either have had her way with him or led him on to it. Moving too fast, with the reckless abandon of a child.

Staring into those eyes, deep and pure. She did not deserve this man at all. It filled her with sorrow to know that truth, but she would selfishly cling to him for as long as he could tolerate her presence. She lunged forward and threw her small arms arpound him, hugging him fiercely. Were she strong enough, his ribs might have creaked under that strain. She pressed her face into his shoulder, and breathed the scent that was him in.

 

[Draedamyr]

She managed to squeeze a loud breath from the elf as she wrapped her arms around his chest. Draedamyr did not hold her tightly, instead soothing palms followed the curve of her spine. Her eyes held the fire that one could gladly burn in. The elf felt a glimmer of fear as he thought on that look. How much of the old Seska was left, lurking beneath the surface?

The concern was fleeting, buried under the weight of the desires that look had also brought forth. Two people could take very different paths, agonisingly slow and a blazing sprint, but both have exactly the same destination in mind.

Draedamyr let this be known when the hand at her back slid up to the base of her neck and started searching for a tie or clasp to undo. He kissed her silver hair, drawing deep of her scent as he prepared to guide their slow dance closer to that fire.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

She shivered at the light touch, an exquisite thrill running like lightning through every inch of her being, and the fires that had burned within her like a wildfire were stoked anew. She could not recall ever feeling like this in all her long life. It was not simply being unable to remember, but a true lack of memory. She had felt the fire of lust before, although it had been a long time ago.

But a different feeling, wound up and bound into that raging inferno? It made the fire sweeter, and whatever this was more meaningful. It took her breath away nearly as much as the tender touches did, as his exploration of the curve of her body made her tremble like a girl.

He felt his questing fingers, and stood on a precipice, looking at a knife-edge ridge upon which she walked. On one side, she could feel the flames of passion consume all, even her thoughts. Sweaty flesh gleaming in firelight, the soft sounds of lovemaking. The pull was intense, drawing on her with the strength of gravity.

Naked, wanting his touch and wanting more.

The other side was darkness and rejection, amorphous and ill defined. It was populated with all the things she thought she deserved, whether or not she deserved them. Terror at losing the precious thing she had found, and had never thought to find in all of her travels.

She leaned out, the fire still in her eyes, but reined tightly. A hand on his chest, and the other hand releasing his back to trace his jawline. For a moment, she was caught in indecision - the plunge into sensual release, or the following if the proper path he had laid out for them. Without rushing.

She did not rush this, either. "Perhaps..." Her voice was surprisingly husky, and she had to swallow hard to speak again, especially with that hand at the back of her neck and the open invitation in his eyes. "Perhaps I should not be so...bold," she whispered. A note of fear glimmered in her eyes; she had started down this path with reckless abandon and it was by his deliberate and slow manner that she had put the brakes on the inferno. Would he see this as spurning? Or would he see true, as her being cautious and thoughtful, respecting him as something more than an object to be lusted after?

She held her breath.

 

[Draedamyr]

Every muscle moved to a beautiful symphony of Draedamyr's choice. He had found complete control of his own body in a way few human swordsmen ever did within his first century of life. Over that bastion of skill he had overlaid all the muscle memory and theory he had needed to become renowned with the blade.

For all this, beneath her gaze and the weight of her question Draedamyr looked as if he was struggling to find a semblance of control. Emotions ran deep, coursing through his veins. The surge of desire - something he had grown accustomed to living without - was hard to keep in check.

His gaze flitted down and back up. Curiosity settled on the question of how they would be together by the fire, flames painting skin in dancing colours. It was a question he wouldn't move from easily.

Draedamyr took in a deep, stuttered breath. His jaw quivered with his lips parted. He gave the most subtle nod before closing his mouth and swallowing. One hand still lingered at the nape of her neck, knowing a flick could change the course of the night drastically.

"It was...not just you...holding bold thoughts," he admitted. The story was told in stormy greys within his eyes far more clearly. He only wished the pace of his heart would also slow down as well.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

She let out the breath she had been holding, swaying slightly as if she were about to faint. The fear was gone, vanished as though it had never been, and she seemed to melt with relief. The heat in her had not vanished entirely though, and that hand could very easily change the course of the evening.

Just so.

She leaned her forehead into his chest, and marveled at the staccato thump she could feel there. The fact that she could elicit such a response in another thrilled her, even as she had to saw the reins on her own instinctive drives. She knew she could not blame everything on that, though.

"Indecent," she breathed slowly, and then giggled a little. She was shocked to hear that sound again from her own throat, but there was nothing about these past days that was not shocking. "Like a pair of...teenagers?" She leaned back, a mirthful smile on her face, the flames in her eyes banked. But still there, just well hidden. "Among my people, such...desires...do not come on until thirty or forty, but..."

She drew his hand away from her back and those dangerous buttons, and clasped it in her own. So that he could feel the galloping horse that was her heart, too.

 

[Draedamyr]

Even a slow cadence of breath, in and out to the breeze that whispered through the canopy, could not quickly bring his heart rate back down.

"Like teenagers," he agreed, amusement creeping into a strained smile. He was still taken aback by how quite suddenly the wave had risen up over them as well as how it had been collapsed before it swept them away. For an elf of such patience, it was sweet agony to have the inevitable delayed.

At least they were in this moment together. Better to establish understanding now than after they were spent and dragged down by regret.

"I had not even known that you would reciprocate quite so fiercely," he mused. She did not eat and she barely drank. Seska's desires were now far less obscure to him.

Perhaps with a newfound confidence in his own control, Draedamyr tugged her hand closer to his lips. There, he kissed the back of her hand most innocently. Then he slowly turned their hands around until he covered the bad of her thumb to find the sensitive skin inside her delicate wrist. He watched her expression carefully as he continued to explore. Explore and understand.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

Her heartbeat quickened again at the touch. Such intimacy was a thing barely dreamed of, rarely realized. She shifted on his lap, absently adjusting skirts that did not need it as she did so, her glassy eyes fixed on his. The firelight on her face gave her a spectral appearance, appropriate for the night.

She looked into those eyes, trying to give answer to the statement, and could find nothing easy to say. Is this love, lust, or something altogether else? A rebound from the tragedy that unfolded, a grasping at life after staring death in the face? She could not find the answer in his eyes, and could not tease it from her own thoughts. Desire made pressing demands that were entirely biological - the need to procreate, to continue the self on via birthing the next generation. A power, powerful drive. Not to be denied.

"I have not...been so forward with any man in longer than I can remember." It was an admission that should have brought some guilt. She could be mothering the next generation of her dying people. There was no shame there, though. "But no man has looked at me twice. None have saved my life, nor shown such care..."

To punctuate the statement, she reached up with her free hand, and pulled his head down to kiss him passionately again, struggling to maintain restraint while showing the depth of her feeling for him.

 

[Draedamyr]

The sudden pure exhilaration of this evening was prone to send his own inhibitions sublimating into the ether. Despite the desire set plain as day in her eyes it had been Seska to draw his hand away and instill some control.

Draedamyr kissed her back until his lips felt bruised and exposed to the evening chill. Until once again he was left gasping for air. His chest heaved, rocking her slender form to a slow rhythm. Despite how much he needed the air his chest suddenly felt constricted, his heart unburdened and racing away.

"It has been...a long time..." he whispered back to her, as if it was secret. "But I think I was a little taken with you not long after we first met." Draedamyr clasped her hand in his own, setting their free arms across her lap.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

A moment of pure panic, quickly suppressed. The Sidhe was not exactly the best at expressing herself to others, at least not in an intimate way. Action spoke louder than words, of course, and always would.

"You did not abandon me to my fate," she said a little breathlessly herself. She could feel the rapid pulse through his clasping hands. Her ow likewise raced, carried in the heat of an impassioned moment like a bit of flotsam on a river. "Caught me off guard, out if countenance." It had awakened a sleeping part of her to possibilities that did not lead to endless wandering and loneliness.

The air was becoming chilly,and so she drew his arms around her. The elemental fire that burned within her made cold something less demanding, but proximity to another was something that thrilled her senses. The rapid rise and fall if his chest as she snuggled into it was more intimate than anything in memory. Just not quite as intimate as things could have gone, had she not sawed the reins of desire savagely.

"I cannot say whether you are the first to garner such feelings," she said suddenly. He was certainly not the only to enflamed her passions, although there was something sweeter about all of this. Could not say why, either.

 

[Draedamyr]

Draedamyr focused on breathing slowly and enjoying the moment. It hadn't felt right to turn away from that path, to abandon the needs of the flesh. A little time and a little breath and the fire on his veins had simmered down. It had been the right thing to do.

"I think it would be fair to say that it, that this, caught us both off guard," Draedamyr murmured. His voice was a soft rhythm to the occasional crackle of the fire.

He drew her tight against him. They were slowly building this bridge between them. Better to build it strong than to throw themselves across the void and hope that it held beneath them.

The exhaustion he suddenly felt was more than physical. There was nothing to support him where he sat with Seska across his lap. Just the dry log beneath them.

"We should settle down by the fire," he said quietly, nuzzling against the top of her head. Immersing himself in a sea of silver.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

She sighed as she stood on legs a trifle less steady than they should have been. Or maybe not. After all, she had only been up and about for a few days after being out cold for weeks.

It was an amusing thought that crossed her mind, then. Intimacy was often hard work, if enjoyable. She could see herself passed out in the act, exhausted by the efforts. Another reason not to run headlong into such a thing, to exercise some restraint. Her blood had cooled again, although it was merely tepid instead of scalding.

Wordlessly, as gestured towards their things, drawing them near to hand. The effort was taxing, but not greatly.

"Perhaps it is time to bed down," she said. In each other's arms, she added inwardly. No fires burning there, no, just the desire for closeness, staving off an empty world with proximity. "Stare into the fire, think of..."

Of what? The future? That did not seem a productive line of thought, to her at least.

 

[Draedamyr]

"...what comes tomorrow?" he asked, voicing her own thoughts.

It intrigued him how casually she called upon magic. If she were a novice he would have warned her against it. To become so familiar with magic was to court temptation.

He was a few thousand years too late for that lesson, he thought to himself. Perhaps she thought her isolation, her sojourn across these foreign lands were her penance. Maybe that was why his interest had blindsided her so completely.

Draedamyr stood and felt a stiffness in his joints from sitting in one spot in the cold. He still looked as youthful as a human in their early thirties but he knew that age was going to set in during the next few hundred years. They were blessed with retaining most of their faculties and youthful energy until the very last years.

He realised he missed her warmth already for other reasons.

He went through a small routine of adding more wood to keep the fire burning and laying out his sword and knife beside his bed. He wasn't well accustomed to the wilderness and liked good steel close to hand.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

If he was uneasy about the wild lands, she was his polar opposite. The wilderness held little of mystery to her, beyond the usual dangers one would expect. The night might be long, and it might be full of terrors, but she had long since stood and faced most of them.

And so she went about the things that she always did when bedding down. They were so routine that they were very nearly ritual, carried out with a kind of reverent indifference. The sweet flow of power thrummed through her veins, jumbled chaos with no form and no purpose. Itwas nearly sweet enough to drown out the desires of the flesh, demanding though they might be.

She laid a light weave upon the fire bathing their campsite in light and heat, and the flames suddenly dimmed and receded, going a deep red. The wood would burn longer, and give off more heat than light, now. She walked (a little unsteady), and paced off a perimeter, playing her particular trade.

She noted his look, and shrugged. "I've seen that before," she said softly, finishing the wards around the camp. They would warn her if anything or anyone came upon them while they slept. "You said you hunted mages?" Well, he had caught one in his web quite thoroughly, then. The heat in her face was not helpful in the least.

She stood not far from him, her saddlebag at her feet, bedroll already unrolling itself near the log they had sat upon. Next to his, dangerously close in fact. "I would not worry about the risks. I am...aware of them. It is just that magic to me and my kind is like breathing to yours." A flat truth, though as with many things there was a lot more nuance to it.

 

[Draedamyr]

Draedamyr grinned as he watched her bedroll slowly unfurl. He could feel the subtle vibrations through the earth from her wards. Despite any reservations they would make him feel more comfortable falling into a deep sleep. He was tempted to try and undo one once they woke in the morning out of professional curiosity.

He let out a single, dry laugh as he moved to his bedroll. He sat down facing Seska and started on his boot laces.

"In this world the novice mage who becomes too accustomed to using magic in their day to day life is often the most dangerous. They don't understand the price. I know you do. It's just rare to see it used so casually. And you know I can carry things if you need to recover."

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

"It is done without thought," she replied. She, too, sat and pulled her skirts out of the way so that she could remove the leather boots beneath. They would have been out of keeping in the city, but in the country and in the wilderness it was not uncommon to see. Delicate slippers did not survive mud very long.

"It is odd, though." She had loosened the string behind her at her waist so that she could, with muffled complaints, spin the dress to more easily get at the buttons on its back. If it had been a fitted dress for a more formal occasion, she would have had to get Draedmyr's help one way or another. "Sorcery requires care and consideration, but...so many treat it as something profane." Buttons popped free, until she could start to draw the bulky garment over her head, heedless of the man sitting in front of her. "It was a part of my people, ingrained in everything we did." The words were muffled.

Turned out there was little to worry about, at least as far as clothing was concerned. The diminutive woman wore a light linen shift beneath her dress, the straps hanging on her shoulders in such a way as to remain invisible while she wore her dress. She remained decent, even if she did show a fair bit more flesh than she had before. "We never had mage hunters," she remarked, her eyes on him and only visible for the faint inner light they held.

 

[Draedamyr]

Draedamyr watched her carefully. She was not his quarry, but he studied her as carefully as if he would one of his targets. He held a breath as the dress came away. He breathed more easily when he realised that she was reasonably decent beneath. He wondered if she would be so distracted when he started to undress. Draedamyr found that he hoped he could have flustered the powerful sidhe just a little bit once more.

"Ah, but you have those who hunted criminals I suppose?" he replied with his own twist on her logic. He waggled his bare toes before tucking them into his bedroll away from the chill air.

"And so because most practised the arts there was no need for a dedicated type of hunter to chase down those who used it?" he closed the little logical circle, hoping to try and gently usher her away from the notion that he might be prejudiced against those with a talent for magic.

Draedamyr shrugged off his light travel coat and his overshirt took just two buttons and was pulled over his head, leaving him sitting in a loose linen undershirt. That seemed enough for the elf to lay onto his side on the bedroll, watching Seska carefully. He imagined that he could study her for the rest or his days and still not fully understand her. Her own history was lost even to her it seemed.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

She was quiet a moment. She had, truth to tell, been hoping he wore nothing beneath his outermost garment, and sighed in disappointment when this proved false. She still stood, ankles and bare feet exposed, but if the chill bothered her then she did not show it.

"Marshals," she said as she sat down on top of her bedroll. She looked him over with avid eyes, despite their separation. "Abuse of magic was in and of itself a high crime. But...among the Sidhe, there was a wide variety of strengths in the art." She grimaced. There was a caste structure, there, that she had thought the only way to work a society, once. "Some tried plying the same vile craft against our own, but there were also those who abused the lesser races." She smiled at him a little uneasily. She did not include him in that, but then the elves had always had some talent for magic.

"Some villains were hideously strong. There are things one can do to render one of our kind nearly invincible. Such practices are - were - considered dark and evil, stripping one of their soul. Marshals were all High Mages, and they were the ones to stop those who went so far. Sealing them away, usually. Cannot kill that which has no life."

She did not really like thinking about it. A dreamless void, timeless, until something breaks the wards or seals. Assuming one was not sealed off in a pocket dimension. She shuddered softly at the memory.

 

[Draedamyr]

Draedamyr watched her with great interest as she spoke. It was difficult to imagine an entirely seperate world. He had always though such tales a fancy. There were well beyond the point where he might have suspected any deception from Seska.

"Thkse who cannot be controlled...typically they receive the sword. Or they come back and its gaol or a short drop depending on their crimes." It wasn't always a pleasant job, but he had made his choices.

"Not just mages. Knights who have lost their mind, nobles who have committed great crimes."

Briefly trying to imagine an eternity locked away - and finding himself staring into a bottomless mental abyss - he changed the subject.

"Come lie beside me now?" he asked, choosing his words very carefully. It was Seska who had placed the bed roll so close. Something that had not gone unnoticed.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

"Some crimes are greater than others," she quipped, then stretched with her arms back and back arching. The subtle sound of crackling vertebrae could not be missed. Despite the fact that she was milennia old, she had not truly aged much beyond her younger years, outwardly or inwardly. Physically, anyway.

She regarded the man with suddenly heavily lidded eyes, the faintly luminous light within her eyes fairly overplayed by the fire, which had the appearance of having burned down low. The low grade sorcery employed to keep it alive was but a faint sensation in the air, and easily ignored among other things.

The butterflies were back, of course. And why not? She had plied the brakes on their rather lusty exploration before, but she did not know how well she could resist either herself or him if it came to a second advance. Why did she have to feel like a damned girl in this? Hadn't she lived for thousands of years longer than he, and experienced so much more? This should be no consideration.

Only...it was. She could not explain her trepidation that was equal parts fear and excitement, but there it was.

It was only slightly inelegant, but she crawled on the ground, across her own pallet and onto his. Just sleeping together didn't mean anything had to happen between them this night...but she still found that she desired those arms around her, strong and protective despite her lack of need for such things. She offered him a hesitant smile, her eyes questioning whether this advance was acceptable or not. Lips parted, cheeks faintly rouged as she sat back with her eyes on his.