Private Tales The Last Resort

[Draedamyr]

His feelings found a strange balance as she approached. He was nervous that he might spur them on to foolish action again, whilst also feeling oddly calm at the idea of having her close again. He crossed the last of that divide, at least in a physical sense. He reached out to brush his hand across her cheek and then gripped her hand gently by the waist to draw her closer. He laid down on his side, making room for Seksa.

When Draedamyr had met Seska she had never given the impression of being delicate, despite her size. His perception of her had changed during those nights at the inn. When she had been been murmuring in her sleep she had looked pale and fragile. The sudden surge of need he had seen in her eyes painted one picture, but now she had returned to gentle and hesitant.

As he placed his hand across her waist he considered how much smaller she was than him. With their gazes level she would probably just brush his knees with her toes if she stretched all the way out.

"As good a comfort as I ever ever found beyond the warmth of an inn," he mused. The subtle suggestion of touch urged her to draw even closer without demanding it.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

Dealing with the outside world was so often different than dealing with the personal world, the immediate and the familiar. She was widely traveled in the world without, but in the arena of the personal she was woefully ignorant.

She would have flopped down if not for the hard ground. What was one more bit of undignified behavior among others? It could be argued that the affection shared between two people was about as undignified as it could get, however sweet and fulfilling it may be.

She lay down, the blankets only just making the ground bearable to lay upon, and rolled over so that she could look Draedmyr in his clear eyes. It felt oddly exhilarating to be in this place and this moment, even if she was not entirely sure of herself. If He were some kind of beast she would know where she stood...but he was a man, and more importantly someone whom she actually cared what they thought of her.

The realization was staggering.

She rolled over and then scooted in until her slight frame nestled against his body, a familiar hand around her waist that felt...right. It all felt right, being snuggled in and in contact with him, arm around her middle. A bastion against the cold of the night, and of the empty loneliness she was so familiar with.

"Better than any inn," she whispered contentedly.

 

[Draedamyr]

He softly chuckled his agreement and pulled covers over them. He was glad that there was no surprise rain. It wasn't the season for it so he had not brought a tent. Seska might have known how to make a shelter, but he did not. Here, in the warmth, with just a glimmer of moonlight pooling around them he could quite agree with the sentiment. Dreadamyr kissed the crown of her head and leaned back.

"I'm not going to sleep for a while," he admitted, a hint of dry humour in his voice. Even as comfortable as they were his mind was still reeling and his heart was still pounding. He took a deep, slow breath and watched the shadows of the trees slowly swaying against the backdrop of stars.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

"It is a lot to take in," she said in agreement, but weariness betrayed itself in her voice. He had been right; she was only just out of a sickbed. She had not fully recovered yet from her self-inflicted ordeal.

The soft sound of the world around her seemed to beat in cadence to his heart, and the effect was a lulling one. His breathing was a cadence she could lose herself in, given time.

She shifted so that her head was below his chin, hard up against his body, basking in its warmth.

"I never would have thought things would travel this path," she admitted, finally. "How does it follow that being flung together by a demonic invasion would go this way," she murmured.

 

[Draedamyr]

"Two old people getting desperate when faced with their own mortality?" he mused. Draedamyr gave a brief squeeze to go with suggestion.

He looked down at her, brow creased in thought. She looked exhausted. Draedamyr had to remind himself that just a few days ago he had started to suspect that she would never wake.

"But I don't know," he mused. He laid back and placed his hand over the arm wrapped across his chest. "That's the kind of question I could take a very long time pondering."

It was hard to think when the idea of having her fall asleep tucked in against him evoked such a myriad of emotions. It would take him long enough to unpick those to answer any serious questions. Draedamyr let out a content sigh and decided to just bask in them and hope that sleep would eventually take him.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

But despair should not lead to the entwining of two hearts, her logical mind proclaimed in sleepy tones. And yet. And yet, so many things were borne from shared adversity, nearly as many as things held in common.

She turned on her back, eyes locked to his, drawing a hand to her lips for a brief kiss, the memory of the taste of his lips still on her lips. Her breast swelled with a sensation unfamiliar to her, powerful enough to make her breath catch in her throat. The memory of being carried in his arms, albeit for a far different reason than she'd had in mind not long ago, was strong.

Of him sitting at her side for weeks, not really knowing anything about her beyond the short day-long venture. It had been enough, at least, to start something.

She rolled to face him with a sleepy smile, and then lazily pulled his lips to hers. It was not ardent or filled with any particular need, but it did linger for a long minute. After, she simply snuggled her head into the space below his chin and despite protestations of not being able to sleep, was soon breathing soft and slow, face peaceful.

Lost to sordid dreams. Tonight, there were no nightmares.

****

Sunlight hit her in the face, and her pale eyes fluttered open to be greeted with the early hours of dawn, sun resting on the edge of a ridge far east. Tendrils of mist hugged the ground, shredding when they came near the heat of their fire. Draedmyr was still asleep beside her, and for a moment she lay there, not moving, just basking in their shared warmth.

The air smelled of smoke. It took a moment for her to realize it, and then notice the thin haze drifting through the air. It did not smell entirely of burning wood though, and it tickled at memories buried deep.

Probably not important.

She bit her lower lip, but finally decided that she needed to move, and did so knowing full well he would waken sooner rather than later.

Tucking the covers back in, ignoring the chill in the air, she set about one of the most important tasks of any morning: making tea.

 

[Draedamyr]

It was a few minutes before Draedamyr woke. His dreams may not have been too far removed from her own, but they had started as conscious thoughts that had kept sleep at bay for some time after she had drifted off. A hand to the side she had slept on felt a warmth that told him she had not left long away. His pointed ears caught up a moment later and he realised she was bustling about the camp just a few feet away.

"Did we put some damp wood on the fire?" he asked as he stood up. There was a stronger scent than he would have expected from a fire in the open air.

Sleeping in the open did not suit the urban elf and he groaned as he sat upright. His cousins from Falwood could walk the forest floor barefoot, but his soles were soft and delicate. He did not pull on his over shirt despite the damp chill, but he quickly tied his boots back on.

For just a moment he questioned whether the events of the previous evening had even happened. The mind could play tricks like that.

"And good morning," he said softly, offering her a warm smile. He expected the way she looked back at him would confirm a lot of things.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

She muttered over the fire that still burned, albeit slowly, fussing with a flat stone and a kettle pulled from the saddlebags. She still wore only the shift, and padded around barefoot as though completely oblivious to the stony ground. She was very much at her ease in the open spaces, and it showed in her every movement, in the ease with which she conducted the morning rituals.

She stopped to regard him, bent over the kettle, and affix him with a bright smile. "Good morning, tall and handsome," she remarked with a certain light in her eyes, before working with the kettle, preparing what passed for breakfast for her.

Straightening, she made a gesture at the fire. The ward that had held it in check overnight evaporated, and the fire began to pick up pace, producing more heat. "I did not. There must be a big fire somewhere nearish to here," she said with a little frown on her face. It wasn't the right time of year for wildfires, and something about the smoke really did tickle a memory. It remained elusive.

"Do you drink tea?" The question was delivered in a tone as light as her smile had been, warm and inviting.

 

[Draedamyr]

With nine centuries behind him Draedamyr was not prone to blushing. It was a simple comment from Seska and yet it managed to bring just a hint of colour to his cheeks. It was all the easier to see with his pale complexion.

He drew himself up and stretched out gracefully. Long, flexible limbs softly cracked. The morning light caught the dew that had settled on the branches and cobwebs above. Odd that there was something burning nearby. They seemed perfectly safe here.

"Well, I can't always have wine for breakfast," he mused. He watched Seska busy herself and could only think of fetching their travel biscuits to help. Despite all the time spent beside her bed as she recovered this moment felt far more intimate somehow.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

"Hair of the dog," she said with a smile. She had not missed anything, but she maintained her composure far better than he. No idea how, either, for she had spent most of the last two days flustered.

Tea making, she surveyed the camp as though it were here domain, wrinkling her nose at the smoke hanging in the air. It was slowly changing character, taking on a subtle flavor that eluded her still. For some reason, it made her feel a thrill of trepidation completely unlike what she had felt the night before.

Had last night been real? Only it had to have been. The feel of the heat of his body pressed against her, arms wrapped around her in a very familiar fashion...

Enough to make her flustered again, recalling. There was no need to think of things best left to the night now. She feared if she let the train of thoughts carry her along that they would likely waste a whole day. Never mind that they were not in any hurry whatsoever.

She swallowed hard, tried to hide it behind her hand, as though she were laughing at the tiny to his cheeks. As if her own weren't even more aflame.

"Anyway, come and sit by the fire with me," she said a trifle tremulously. She indicated where they had sat the night before. "I will pour for us while we wake up," she added.

 

[Draedamyr]

Draedamyr started to feel more settled in the moment. The clear demarcation of the night had passed and the links drawn up between then and now. Perhaps after some tea they would act their age and manage another grown up conversation about everything. Or they might just continue on youthful energy with furtive glances until they eventually lost control.

He took his seat on the log, finding a patch that was still relatively dry. The spiders had made glittering magic of the trees above and for a few moments Draedamyr was taken with looking up through the trees.

Steam rose from around the fire where the dew was lifted away. Draedamyr lifted his hands towards the fire and let it drive the cold away.

"We should see where this other fire is after we pack up," he said quietly.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

"We should," she agreed. She took some tin cups from the mess kit, and poured tea for the both of them before coming to the log, offering a cup of unsweetened to Draedmyr, steam curling of the surface. She took a seat to him, close, with one leg pressed against his, delicate hand resting on his leg as she blew steam away and took a deliberate sip.

"That is not from a camp fire, though," she remarked. Tendrils of grey hung in the air, and it was then that she remembered what it was about them that tickled so many memories. It was war, the recollection of morning encamped with the fires of the night burning low, of enemy encampments and the haze of their own cook fires.

And odd memory to have, just then.

"I wonder if there are any towns nearby. Or farms?" They had seen a farm or two, with fields filled with dead crops that had rotted where they stood. Legacy of the red mists, and spectre of the famine the winter would bring, if it had not already arrived.

 

[Draedamyr]

"There is one further up the road," he replied. "At least I think so." All the little human settlements along the roads tended to blend into one another in his mind. He was too preoccupied with his thoughts about Seska to give the smoke much of his attention.

He took a sip of tea himself. If nothing else it was a brief pause in which to compose his thoughts. He turned and fixed his gaze on Seska.

"I just wanted to say that I think it was the right decision to...slow things down last night," Draedamyr declared. There, that was very grown up.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

She said nothing for a moment, briefly recalling the heat of the moment, when fire had suffused her mind and a flame that had been fanned into brilliant life in the nether region of her body. It had been that flame that was in control, not her mind.

Or perhaps her heart had been involved, but such things did nor bear dwelling on. She had not sufficiently pick through her feelings there, yet.

She finally looked into his eyes, and nodded slowly. She did not appear to be fully convinced of it, herself. "Maybe," she said simply.

"I...have not been able to untangle my feelings about this," she admitted after a moment of consideration. "I do not know what it is that I feel for you. Yet. It...it feels like something a young person would feel, reckless and wild..."

And maybe deep. Or maybe as shallow as the grave she would one day occupy. She regarded him with a serious expression while her fingers lightly traced patterns on his thigh. Such familiarity, so quickly. "I have been alone for so long, it is hard for me to..."

 

[Draedamyr]

Draedamyr tried to keep the little smile from spreading all the way across his lips. He couldn't. He actually enjoyed the fact that he pulled her a little bit off balance. A wise traveller of an exceptionally powerful order of mage and it was him who had knocked her off her stride.

"I wouldn't mind a bit of youthful, wild energy," he mused. "But time is on our side. There is no need to rush."

One eyebrow went up with his cup of tea. Both came back down slowly.

"Besides, best not to rush anything when we're exhausted. Everything is better when you take your time over it."

That was cruel, he admitted to himself. He had not felt like testing the boundaries just to see what reaction it elicited for a very long time.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

"Tell that to the needs of the flesh," she muttered in regards to his comment about no need for rushing. She didn't care if he heard her, either; it wasn't as if he hadn't seen the need plain as day in her eyes the night before.

She sipped at the tea. She usually preferred to have some cream and honey in hers, but she had not thought to procure any and, in any case, cream did not travel well. She could deal with it, though. Some was better than none at all, after all. Steam still curled over the cup, wafting the enticing scent of the drink to her nose.

Thinking of that, she smiled into her tea. "Hopefully we find a town or a farm. Some of the more civilized demands of mine are not being met right now." She leaned into him, free hand still idly tracing patterns on his leg absentmindedly.

 

[Draedamyr]

"Still telling it to mine," he muttered back. As per usual there was just the slightest twitch to his lips to betray the numerous intent. She might not have been thinking about the small patterns she traced across his thigh, but he could not put them from mind.

"You seem more at home camping on the road than me," he observed. "I try not to travel alone too much. Usually if I'm going long distance I will find a caravan I can stick with."

An elf who looked as if they could handle a sword was often welcome if a caravan was short of guards.

"Thought the last one I joined was attacked by a group of subterranean elves and they nearly got away with my sword," he grumbled.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

"More at home on the road," she agreed. The tidy camp, the routine unbroken by the hustle and bustle of town or village or city...that was where she belonged. In this way, the two of them were two different people. Not just mage hunter and mage, but man of the city and woman of the wilderness. "most are dismissive of me - either dismissed as a child, else as being not very useful. As far as caravans are concerned, anyway." She could not lift heavy things, nor was she tall enough to handle many other tasks. Or strong enough.

She had mentioned it before, but it could not be overstated how weak she was. All of her strength came via sorcery and, like many things, having such a crutch was a dangerous weakness in and of itself.

"I do not like the cities," she admitted carefully. She looked up at him with cautious eyes, unsure how he would react. "They breed a certain kind of person, one filled with blind ambition and greed. A thing that crosses the bounds of race." The same kind of person she had been, long ago, to the ruin of many.

 

[Draedamyr]

"That's true," he replied without missing a beat. "But cities breed all kinds of people. I like some variety in life. Also, I like to be where the best artists, musicians, good and wine get sent," he added with a chuckle. Those were things that you did not often find on the road. It wasn't to say that there were not great things to be found in nature. Perhaps, Draedamyr mused, he was just lazy in enjoying everything brought to him.

She did not look like a child to him at all. Seska did not even particularly resemble the halflings of the Eastern grasslands. If pressed he would have said that she was more of a perfectly formed, but small elf. It did bring a curiosity to mind on what that encounter would be like when they just gave in and crossed the final line. That felt much more of a 'when' question than an 'if'.

"Strange I suppose that I can't stand the last Elven city of note, but instead have just become used to the way elves are treated in human cities. Not that I would step foot within a league of Vel'Anir and neither should you. Now am I a little aloof and short of temper because it is elven nature or because that is what has always been expected of me, I wonder?" The small smile had transitioned into a grin at moving into such a large question before the tea was even finished.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

"A little of column 'A', and a little of column 'B', I expect," she said seriously. She seemed ready and willing to engage in a deep subject such as this, with all of its philosophical meanderings. "Society puts pressure on all to conform to a standard. While some deviation is acceptable and tomerated, too much is not."

It was likely he had and even temper, regardless. He seemed too deliberate to be prone to bouts of anger. "Though aloofness comes with age. It is...hard, sometimes, to relate to the young when you have lived long. Even harder when, for alm intents and purposes, you have and will continue to live forever...and they will not."

There was no pride nor joy in the admission of seeming immortality. As was so often the case, she wondered if the short-lived even knew of the gift they had? She had no desire to die, and even had a difficult time understanding boredom sometimes...but what must it be like, never knowing when your time was over? Packing as much life as you could into your years.

And not lingering like a ghost of the past, forgotten by a world that had long since moved on.

"How much of what you see in yourself was hammered into you by living in a city, I wonder? I have not been part of a society for a very long time, and so would not know..."

 

[Draedamyr]

She was likely right. Certainly he had a habit of trying to subtly aggregate people who had lost his respect. Often the easiest way to do that was to inhabit the stereotypical traits of the elves even further. It was another question that leapt out at him and he decided to ask it without hesitation.

"Do you see me as a younger man?" he asked.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

She looked to him, a light dancing in her eyes that had little to do with their inner fire. She shook her head slowly. "A complicated question with a complicated answer."

And then she punched him in the arm, something akin to being swatted by a mosquito. "I am the one that is supposed to ask loaded questions like that!" She grinned at him, spoiling the mock severity on her face. "I am sure you are young enough when it counts, but not so young as to make a fool of yourself elsewhere."

 

[Draedamyr]

"I was just hoping that you saw me as an exciting younger man," Draedamyr replied. There was no hint of humour in his reply, but one lock at her expression and he broke into a laugh.

He changed his tea between hands and rubbed his arm as if she had hurt him. Shards of sunlight were slowly moving through the trees as the morning continued on. Another fine day for walking and riding.

"But probably accurate. Old enough to know when to take my time over something..." he added, letting his voice trail away into the imagination of just what he meant by that. He had a final sip of tea and then turned the last of the contents onto the grass.

"I might walk for a while this morning and stretch out," he said.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

She laughed too, a crystalline sounds that trailed off into her own interpretation of what he meant by that, exactly. There was faint color in her cheeks, and she had to deliberately shake her head to rid it of the images it was happily supplying her.

"Exciting enough," she replied.

She finished her tea, but made no move to rise. The smoke seemed a bit stronger in the air now, but she did not think much of it. Instead, she looked up at him, mischief on her eyes.

"Walk and stretch so you do not have to be reminded at every step that you are pressed against a woman?" Clear mischief.

 

[Draedamyr]

"Walk and stretch because sometimes I do feel old," he countered. It struck Draedamyr that perhaps instead of stringing this game along they could simply delay the start of the next leg of the journey and truly enjoy one another's company. The temptation might have manifested in a clearly worded offer were it not for the continued niggle at the back of his mind over the smoke.

"And I will do my best to keep my hands on the reigns when I do decide to ride," he added, reflecting the sparkle in his eyes.

"But I do not like the scent in the air," he said, voice turning somber. "I'm concerned that someone might have set fire to these woods and perhaps we should make for the open road soon?"