Raynak’s pastures set aside for grazing fattened cattle, flocks of noisy cluckatrice, and herds of elegant Sleipnir were the first thing to greet Sheeva and Tazaro, but, too eager to find an inn and the nearest church, they briskly passed the animals and the inner circle of sweet potato, squash, and cornfields sectioned off for yearly rotation.
After squaring away a couple of rooms, Tazaro seemed unable to contain his excitement as he took her by the hand and led Sheeva through the crowds, and Sheeva jogged lightly to match his pace. She paid attention to the long-forgotten streets she once wandered in serious vigilance and noted a sense of familiarity about them, briefly wondering if the central gardens still grew the vibrant fragrant flowers as they darted past a flower shop.
They halted at a small church made of large, grey stone leveled into brick and supported by solid beams. The belfry of the steeple towered over them as the clocktower used to, though with an ornate window of stained glass. The arrangement depicted an elegant trilithon, one stand a deep blue to resemble one person and the other a serene green to resemble another. The bridge connecting the two was a swirling mix of blues from one stand and greens from the other, fusing together in the middle to represent the unification of two separate lives. Ultimately, the assembled panes of glass were used to signify Zira, goddess of love and protector of the family.
Standing at the steps and staring at the stained glass banished the fog of surrealism in their minds, and Sheeva’s heart pounded in her chest as her face buzzed with excitement. It further drove the fact that they were going through with this, and as she lowered her gaze from the glass to catch his eye, he bore the same thrilled, ecstatic grin, with a splay of pink on his cheeks as he panted to catch his breath that likely found itself trapped in his chest. She gave a hand that was just as sweaty as hers an encouraging squeeze, and she watched his eyes widen and the ripple tear across his forearms as the hairs stood on end before he grinned at her.
Contagious in its purity, Sheeva found herself overwhelmed and stepped towards him, hiding her face in his chest as she felt her face heat. Fumbling with the lapels of his coat, she fisted at his clothing in nerves, fighting to swallow past a dry throat. It took him a second to respond, but as he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close, she hummed at the vibration of nerves and what she hoped was the same amount of zeal causing him to shiver so violently.
“Shall we go?” He managed, and though she didn’t lift her head from his chest, she felt him tip his head in the direction. Even his voice dripped with laden joy.
“Yes!” Sheeva agreed in a squeak, though as her legs threatened to buckle beneath her, she clung to his jacket even tighter. A deep breath in through her nose that was meant to give her enough calm to answer him more adequately brought with it the spicy scent of soap, wood shavings, and sweat. It pervaded the jumbled wall of nerves, and she sighed as her body finally relaxed, hands releasing their white-knuckled grasp. The moment of clarity allowed her to take a few more deep, chest-filling breaths, and she settled further into his hold as he calmed too, enough to let his hands link loosely around her waist and tuck her closer with a shift of his feet.
A tiny chuckle rumbled against her face as she leaned her lips up to place a kiss on his neck before having the wherewithal to lift her head off his chest and look him in his citrine eyes. They were eager and soft, glimmering with hope, with a minute glint of apprehension that dispersed into affirmation as she gazed back at him. Slender fingers cradled his cheek as Sheeva found her voice.
“Yes, Tazaro. Let’s go.”
He bit his lip to stifle a childish, happy giggle that shook his shoulders as the rush flashed across his face before he determinedly retook her hand and bolted them up the steps for the double doors, closed to allow privacy for the patrons inside. Their boots clicked hard against the stone steps as they raced up and into the holy shade of the building. Sheeva covered her mouth with a hand as the giddiness erupted past her lips in a muffled squeak, somehow able to still be mindful of anyone inside wanting a moment of sacred peace.
Tazaro’s body seemed to fight hard against his keenness as its movements seemed stiff, managing not to barrel through the door as they wanted to. Instead, their hard-earned restraint caused them to gain enough scruples to step, wobbly-legged, into the coolness of the building. The shelter from late-summer heat helped shock them into tranquility, and it occurred to Sheeva just how pent-up they had been as it wicked the sweat away from her body that had formed in places she didn’t know existed.
They lingered at the back of the building, even after the door closed shut behind them, driving them a couple of needed steps inside as the wood met the large bags on their backs and threatened to punt them forward.
The sunlight streaming in illuminated a fog of incense smoke, further colorizing pale white into sea-foam green and golden yellow by the stained glass that scattered its likeness upon the entryway. Sheeva took Tazaro’s hand once more as she subtly noticed how their shadows overlapped with the standing stones of the symbolic trilithon, beaming to herself with pride as it assured her that, no matter what, they would find a way to weather any storm with the other’s support. Perhaps, Tazaro knew this, or, perhaps, he was so excited to “tie the knot” that it didn’t matter to him where they went. Ethereal comfort was captivating and allowed them the reprieve Sheeva needed from her nerves to collect her composure, and she rested a hand on Tazaro’s upper arm as he cradled her hand in the crook of his elbow.
They cautiously stepped further inside so as not to further disturb the otherwise undisturbed patrons as they sat cross-legged on cushions in front of tea candles floating in ceramic bowls. In silent contemplation or prayer, Sheeva wasn’t sure, never having taken the time to visit any of the eleven churches of Raynak during her previous visit, assuming Llyud to be an unreligious man. She herself wasn’t devout, but if this was the channel Tazaro wanted to go through, she was more than happy to. It seemed to mean a lot to him, and that mattered more to her than her own discomfiture.
Still, there was something peaceful about the surroundings, and as she took a deep breath of the incense, she felt a bone-deep relaxation exude from within.
Sheeva watched, intrigued, as an elderly man dressed in what could only be ministerial robes with a comforting hand on the shoulder of a man appearing emotionally pained administered a deep-throated, entrancing chant of some kind. The receiver’s face softened, his troubles seeming eased as he listened to the short hymn, and she caught herself in a small bout of cheer for the relief the poor person must have felt. It was a sudden, humbling realization, and she averted her eyes to give them privacy, eyeing the brickwork of the floor in contemplation.
She looked up as someone approached them with green, slippered feet and teal, ceremonial robes and greeted them. Still, she watched an eyebrow quirk as the priest paused in his greeting and eyed Abraxas in curiosity; the idea of a “young lady” with a sword was no doubt jarring. Resisting the urge to squint to see his eyes behind the darkened spectacles he wore, she focused on the big, bushy, salt-and-pepper beard instead to help herself brush off the bewildered stare.
Thankfully, Tazaro initiated the conversation with the man, and, upon hearing him ask about “officiating their wedding,” Sheeva gleamed with a giddy swell of pride. She never thought she would get this far. She never expected to even think about it.
The priest, Atlas, encouraged them to spend an afternoon on the town and then take the night to themselves in quiet, solitary contemplation. Apparently, “absence made the heart grow fonder," stated after the attempt to suggest it was traditional seemed to fall on deaf ears. In reality, they were out in the world, not tucked in the safety of the veil protecting Malfa Temple...and also, it had been such a long time that Sheeva had slept in a bed by herself, she worried she would be nothing but restless the entire night.
As if to ease the discomfort showing on her face, Atlas handed Tazaro a roll of papers tied together, suggesting that they look through it while enjoying their time out and perhaps even later in the evening to pass the time until morning. Sheeva didn’t ask how much Tazaro had offered to pay for the service, but as she took the satchel his father had gifted them when Tazaro handed it to her, it was significantly lighter. She paid it no more mind than that, as money was no matter.
Once outside the temple doors and into the late-summer heat, Sheeva raised a hand to shield her eyes from the blinding sun as she peered out onto the town. There were primarily residential buildings here, with tall, stucco-plaster apartments stretching towards the sky, yet crowded together, much like the Southgate slums of Roussell. She followed the entry road between the northern watchtowers towards the center of town, where the old castle still resided though it had been turned into a Capital building. The hedges of the Grand Gardens still reached for the sun, and Sheeva thought she saw the clearing for the lovely jade fountain she would often stop at when she allotted herself the freedom during her last “visit,” if she could call it that.
Further east, the majestic building of the college Tazaro must have attended could be seen, with the giant courtyard and its small, similarly-built lecture halls cropped up on the campus grounds. He stared at it, lost in memory, and judging by the sentimental smile, it was something pleasant.
“Would you like to swing by the college? I remember you telling me the grounds were something to behold.” She suggested as a starting point for their afternoon.
“Hm. We could, but I think I’d like to grab something to eat first. We didn’t exactly stop for lunch.” He pointed out with a smile. Sheeva bashfully nodded in agreement, feeling her stomach growl at her in rude demand. If the thing could speak, it’d probably throw every inventive string of swears she had learned from Tazaro while he tinkered at a project.
“Mm. Yeah, I’m starving,” She agreed. “Lead the way?”
As Tazaro guided their way using the directive cornerstones set at the foot of lanterns, Sheeva’s hand fumbled with the tarnished pommel-stone of Abraxas as she recalled how often she’d walked its streets at night. She felt herself on edge upon passing by a loading dock on the northern edge of the river, perhaps even the same one where she’d had a nasty brush with an “informant” intending to ambush her and either carve her to pieces or sell her to slavery in the Underground. She shivered as the thought crossed her mind that, if not her, some other poor unfortunate soul would have been victim to his murderous or sadistic tendencies. Suppose it was a chance of fate that brought them face-to-face and a stroke of destiny that he would fall to her blade.
As they began to cross a bridge reaching over the canal, her mind began to wander. Did the streets nearby the river still get that eerie fog in fall, and did the canals still waft their musty, algae-riddled waters into the air? Did the homeless adults or children still bathe in it? Were there as many stumbling drunks trying to navigate their ways home? Were there still as many alleyway dealings of banished contraband, and, for as many as she had seen during her patrols, were there just as many corrupted guards?
Her thoughts were broken as they slowed to a stop, and Tazaro leaned against the stone rail beneath a matching stone streetlamp, overlooking the gondolas in appreciation of their build as their gondoliers propelled them along with long, oak oars knocked into matching nooks. Some chartered passengers while others carried freight.
“I helped build some of these, you know. Crafted as part of an outreach program the college held as part of my schooling: repair and restore the architecture of the city.” He admitted, smiling to himself about something.
The statement directed Sheeva’s musings towards the positive, and she leaned against the rail as well to peer over, wondering if she could spot his handiwork without him pointing it out. Thankfully, he must have noticed her scrutinizing gaze as her eyes darted from one gondola to the next and kept silent, waiting. Her eyes wandered from bow to stern, finding the elegant black paint beneath the sleek, shiny coating of protectant pleasing in contrast to the greens of the water.
An amused scoff flew past her lips as she spotted one that looked unmistakably like a cluckatrice upon taking in its full stature. The Ferro at the bow was shaped into a feathery head with beady black eyes, a projecting yellow beak, and the standard, red-painted comb and wattle. The Risso at the stern was carved into a beautiful plumage of green, blue, and red tail feathers. And, beneath the waves, she was sure she could spot the carving of white wings. She was willing to bet that, if the piece of art had a rudder, it mimicked the taloned, two-toed claw.
“Feh! A cluckatrice? Really, Tazaro?”
The cocky grin spread on his face, and he snickered, pleased with himself as the mischievous light crept into his eyes.
“The school board was not as amused as my classmates and I were, but it’s nice to see it being put to use!”
They calmed and stared back out onto the river, drinking in the tranquil moment. The stone was chilling against Sheeva’s palm, and apparently also on Tazaro’s, as he raised his hand and tenderly rested it on top of hers. She leaned her head on his shoulder as he regaled her with tales of other projects he worked on and times spent assisting the restoration of some of the castle grounds.
“Why didn’t you become an architect?” She asked, noting the level of enthusiasm he held while talking about it.
“I’d have to climb things...and there was no way in hell I’d be standing on an iron beam a thousand feet off the ground–even with a harness.”
“Ah.”
Sheeva smiled at her next thought.
“Well, good news: you don’t have to worry about that anymore.”
“Hm! True, I don’t!” He agreed, then smiled, eyes widening. “I’d be unstoppable! Hah, there would be caricatures of cluckatrice everywhere!” He threatened.
Silence fell between them as a frown fused his brow, following a thoughtful face.
“Hey, Sheeva? Do you think we were here at the same time? I…like to think that maybe I’d have met you sooner.” He asked, a soft, daydreaming smile on his face at his confession as he drummed his fingers on the ancient stone of the bridge rail.
“When were you here?” She asked, genuinely curious about whether they were here simultaneously, and wondered what would have happened had their paths crossed much sooner than just a year-and-a-half ago.
He thought for a moment.
“Got here in the summer of ‘27. Stayed for a couple years while I...did what I did.” He summed, referring to the completion of his apprenticeship and his darker, ill-fated relationship with Kirin.
Sheeva thought for a moment for anything significant that might have happened then, since, yes; it seemed so.
“Was the Dockside Butcher still at large?”
He glanced at her, a mildly confused look on his face as he racked his brain. Slowly, he nodded.
“Yes? I had to hear about it all the time. Vincent was disturbingly fascinated with the idea of a serial killer. Micah wanted to be the one to apprehend him, but the trail went cold. Apparently, they assumed he skipped town.” He muttered, clearly unnerved with her broaching the subject in such fashion.
“Skipped town? Mm, no...” She paused, checking over her shoulder for eavesdroppers. Other people were too absorbed in their own doings, but Sheeva dropped her voice low. “Ahem. Sleeping with the fish.” She corrected, tipping her head towards the loading dock down the way.
“Sleeping with the fish?” He repeated, and Sheeva wondered if it was another phrase he had simply never heard before, but as the metaphorical candle ignited above his head, his head jerked toward her faster than lightning, eyes wide with a bewildered and amazed stare. She dismissed the previous idea.
“Holy shit! What?” Tazaro blurted, then cautiously looked over his shoulders and the top of her head as he registered his disruptive, advertising urgency and volume. He ducked his head closer to his collar and lowered his voice. “How?”
Sheeva took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then turned to face the cobblestone path of the bridge’s deck. She leaned against the rail, feeling a surge of safety. Most people couldn’t do parkour like they could, and, if they could, one or both of them would hear them from far off.
“As you know, I was looking for Llyud. I met Jaxton Durzig in a bar during a game of billiards, which I guess is where he prowled for his victims. I used to think that he saw me as a challenge, but now that I think of it, perhaps I simply matched his type.” She waved the tangent off with her hand and shook her head. “He said he had information on Llyud. Told me to meet him at the docks. Tried to ambush me with a blow to the head–hence the reason why I drilled it into you to protect your head. It’s been…handy.”
“Come to find out, he knew nothing of Llyud, and in his inflated hubris as he struggled against the roots I tied him with, he bragged about his crimes.” She explained, giving a scoff at the memory of him screaming in rage: Don’t you know who I am? I’m the damn Dockside Butcher!…As if it were meant to frighten her.
Sheeva pressed her fingers to her lips in contemplation. What was it that she had said in response to his pitiful threat of “taking his time in cutting her apart like a surgeon” when he got out of the rope she’d bound him with? She ‘tsked’ at herself and shrugged it off when she couldn’t recall. Whatever it was, it probably hadn’t been as clever a comeback compared to something she could come up with now.
“I saw it a better fit to rid the world of him–make Raynak a little safer. I took no pleasure in it but saw it just that his…methods became his undoing. Wrapped him up in a net, weighted it down with rocks, and dumped him into the river outside of town.” She explained, hoping the terrified look on Tazaro’s face did not mean he was swayed from her company. As the worry twisted in her gut, she crossed her arms and avoided his gaze. Damn her and her mouth.
“Wow.” He muttered under his breath. “Thank you, I...guess? Sorry–I don’t know what to say.”
She managed a breath in through her nose that stung into her eyes, and as she sharply exhaled, she turned to face him.
“I forget you have no experience with the death of other Sferrans, accidental or otherwise.” She offered, hoping to ease his discomfort and ease herself from the somehow nagging guilt. Should she have turned the killer over to the proper authorities instead?
“I believe that. It’s fine. I understand. I’m, I’m alright.”
Her head dropped as she thought that, no, he didn’t quite understand, never having to have taken someone’s life to protect his own, but she pushed it away. She hoped that, outside of Zakaraia, it would never come to it. Besides, Zakaraia didn’t count, considering he was a ta’hal and likely wouldn’t stop until he had claimed their lives.
“Hey, look at me.” He insisted, tucking a finger under her chin to lift her gaze to meet his. Her fiery eyes narrowed, irate and unappreciative of the particular gesture at this moment, but as she saw the sincerity in his face, it banished her tension. Her shoulders slumped, and her hands unclenched. Still, he thankfully dropped his hand to his side, attentive to her defensiveness.
“You did what you had to. It’s in the past. We are where we are due to our choices in life, right?”
“Mm.” She hummed in agreement, turning her attention back to the fancy gondolas crossing up and down the river. Any couples they ferried seemed content in each other’s arms, and she found herself making a note of the desire to share the experience with Tazaro at some point in time during their stay in Raynak.
Anxiety placated by the thought, Sheeva took another deep inhale of the misty air.
What else had Tazaro asked? A musing on whether or not they had met sooner?
The sad, realistic answer would be that it would have been a missed or impossible opportunity for them to come together, considering who she was then.
Eager to imagine a more positive outcome, she entertained an idea of them crossing paths in a bar somewhere, her scouring the streets and scrounging for futile information as she used to, and him sharing a social drink with Micah, Vincent, and Perron in between whatever studies they had. She couldn’t imagine herself approaching him first, but perhaps he’d greet her with some witty pick-up line to strike up a conversation. Her heart did a silly flutter; maybe the magnetism they shared now would have still shown itself in an earnest conversation of whatever tickled their fancy over the occasional drink she allowed herself.
She was significantly more naive at that time than she was when they had initially met in Roussel, not yet knowing the harshness and judgment towards her Ta’hal side from the family that harbored her for a short while or experiencing firsthand the cruelty and greediness of man during her confinement in Midna’s Overlook. Maybe, he’d suggest they take a seat in a quiet corner of the room in a booth, where they could sit across from each other and share stories or goals they intended to meet someday. She might have found the warm glow in his citrine eyes just as captivating and boldly scooted closer as the conversation turned more and more intriguing.
Say he asked her to dance, make her blood race through her veins to carry the tingling thrill of adrenaline as they hopped to a jauntier tune–him with some grace and her with an awkward balter. As the night drew on as their attraction grew, would she have let down her defenses and learned to relish in his gentle caress, soothed by the wisp of his breath upon the nape of her neck or the assuring heat of his body as they swayed to some romantic ode she didn’t know while he mirthfully hummed along?
Perhaps the night would have drawn to a close, and he would have walked her to the inn she’d stayed at, shyly asking to give her a fond, farewell kiss. Would it have stirred the same energy while simultaneously fiddling her heartstrings with a feeling of safety, as it had when he’d “properly” kissed her at the Farmer’s Fountain in Roussel? Would she have fallen further into his embrace with another sweet, more intent kiss, and would he have persuaded her to bed and touched her just as deeply and wholly as he would now? A blush snuck onto her cheeks as she bit her lip in gaiety, hiding the curl of her lips as she pressed a cool hand to her cheeks.
She liked to believe that, of all the ways they could have met, the ultimate outcome would have been somehow the same: that they would have fallen just as deeply in love and promised the other's hand in marriage.
“Oh? What’s got you smiling like that?” Tazaro asked, bringing her out of her thoughts.
Sheeva snorted and blushed further as she shied away, giving an immediate, poorly delivered answer of: “nothing!”
“Mm-hmm. Sure. The sky’s purple, too, don’tcha know?” He countered in his disbelief, hurrying after her and wrapping his arms around her torso to snatch her back into his chest. A light giggle erupted from her stomach as he did so, and she didn’t break free of his grapple. Instead, she turned around to face him and hugged him around his middle, tucking her face against his jacket in gratitude.
“Just...fantasizing about us meeting up sooner than we did.” She admitted with a smile. “I, I didn’t frequent the campus, so it would have had to have been in a bar somewhere, or...something like that.” She huffed sheepishly and shook her head.
As she felt the gurgle of his stomach, hers responded in kind in even angrier rumblings, and she frowned as her head began to spin.
“We were going to go get something to eat. Let’s do that before we fall over.”
Nibbling on the last two leftover cheese rolls Sheeva had made the previous night at camp to tide them over and silence the cries of their stomachs, Tazaro moved them with a purpose toward what he considered his “favorite place to eat and study when Micah and Vincent were too distracting.”
Seine-tinel’s Brook was empty, save for a few patrons sipping away on their sources of caffeine and engaged in conversation or books. Picking a spot towards the back of the cafe, Sheeva muttered for Tazaro to order whatever he recommended, overwhelmed with the extensive menu, because what the hell did espresso con Panna mean, and how could a liquid be dry?
Passing by a couple in an apparently difficult conversation, the woman reminded Sheeva of herself, though with stone-blue eyes, welled with tears as she opened up about the sudden loss of her family and a lover’s amnesic ailment to a red-haired, orange-eyed man named “Reiner.” Within a heartbeat, Sheeva felt the concern grow on her face and a twinge in her heart, sympathetic to the woman’s woes. She silently wished the unknown stranger well and fought a scoff at herself in their presence for her unusually increased sensitivity.
Her hands curled around herself in an attempt to comfort her at darkening thoughts. While she knew she would retain her memories after death, perhaps slowly forgetting things as time crawled by was frighteningly close enough to being stricken with amnesia. She eased herself into the red-velvet-lined booth and leaned on her elbows as she propped her head up, already tired of thinking about it. Worse still, she hadn’t entirely voiced her worries, not wanting to pile more onto Tazaro’s plate than he already had. Bartholomew had also wormed his way into Tazaro’s heart, and she wanted to spare him the pain. Perhaps, once they had dealt with Zakaraia, she could sit down and carry out the hellacious conversation regarding eternal servitude after death and Bartholomew's "final repose."
One thing at a time, she decided.
She looked up as he stepped into her view and slid in beside her with a smile, holding the roll of papers in his hand, eager to get started on them. It would give her a pleasant distraction, at least.
“I hope we don’t have to turn these in like they’re a test. Serious as this is, I want to fill out as many questions with as ridiculous answers as we can drum up.” He murmured, presenting his challenge. The laugh escaped her before she could stop it.
“Do you think they’d believe us if we said anything about magic or flying?” She whispered back. He snickered, his face scrunching with mischief.
“Probably not, but we should definitely write it in there somewhere. It’ll be our little secret.” He suggested with a wink.
Rolling with it, Sheeva scooted closer and held the pages flat as they peered down at the list of questions. There were fifty, neatly numbered and even categorized, which was more than Sheeva had expected.
“Oh. These are, uh, pretty deep.” Tazaro blurted, tapping number eleven: What are you hoping to learn or accomplish in the coming year?
“Do you...still want to write down silly answers?” She asked. Tazaro sat back, mildly put-out as he nodded and shook his head in indecision.
“Both.”
"We could still tell each other our honest answer, but write down the silly one. They don't need to know how serious we are. We do."
Tazaro couldn't agree more, it seemed, as he excitedly read the first question aloud to get them started. Some questions ended in a reiteration of things they already knew, while others definitely taught them something new; of all the things they had talked about, their roles in the household had never really been one of them.
After reading a question about their favorite part of making love, Sheeva glanced around them in nerves, wondering whether it was appropriate to talk about such things in public. As Tazaro pecked her cheek, he traced the sigil for a muffling spell on the table, waiting until it was in effect to speak. They could work with this so long as they kept their backs turned to the rest of the patrons.
"We should probably have started this paperwork somewhere else." He admitted with a blush. She was thankful he had muffled their conversation out from eavesdroppers, still managing to utter her response through a fit of shyness and nerves. His answer sent shivers down her spine with thrill as he whispered it against the nape of her neck, voice low and seductive. He was even daring to drag his hand along her thigh in a slow, teasing brush, stopping abruptly as they noticed movement by their table.
The cheery waitress with squash-colored eyes and auburn hair greeted them as she balanced a tray on her hip, doling out their respective dishes. Sheeva smiled at hers; a roasted hunk of cluckatrice meat rested beside a fresh, bright-green salad, topped with sliced radishes, cheese, and blueberries. Tazaro had ordered himself a side of roasted potatoes and an omelet, likely with mushrooms, onions, and swiss, and as she eyed the contents between the layers of egg, smirked at her correct guess.
As she felt the shocking crunch of something, Sheeva paused, mulling it over with her tongue. It tasted close to a water chestnut, but instead of tasting gross, she found it sweet, nutty, and tart, all at once.
Muttering a comment about the weirdness of it, Sheeva dug around in the salad for another to see if she had managed to finally have a good water chestnut, doomed to suffer inedible ones for eternity.
“What’s weird?” Tazaro asked behind a bite of omelet.
“Water chestnut.” She stated, stabbing one with the fork and holding it up to examine it in its disturbing existence.
“Oh. Shit, I didn’t know there were–
He stopped as she popped it in her mouth anyway, nibbling on it. The texture didn’t seem to annoy her as much, and as she allowed the flavors to marry with her taste buds, Sheeva gave another hum of interest.
“Suppose they’re not too bad, after all.” She admitted.
Tazaro grinned at her, seeming victorious about something.
“Hah! I knew you’d come around!”
Sheeva sneered in playful mockery.
“It’s just because I was hungry.” She denied.
“Oh, sure, sure.” He half-heartedly agreed, mumbling a threat to sneak water chestnuts into whatever he happened to cook next. Sheeva promptly jabbed at him with the handle of her fork.
She sipped on her tea as he sipped on a coffee, finally explaining some of the strange things from the menu. As the place became more crowded as the evening set in and folks were freed from school and work obligations, Sheeva and Tazaro slipped out and back onto Raynak’s grid-like streets. Navigating their way as they discussed various things, mainly depending on advertisements they passed by or things propped up in windows, Sheeva scoffed at Tazaro’s joking idea of her wearing a corset.
They paused at a vendor to buy a bottle of wine, which Tazaro said was for “something special.” Sheeva fought to ignore her immediate guesswork, wondering if he was planning a stargazing date since it was something they used to do and hadn’t done in a while.
As she came upon a teal cornerstone she recognized, Sheeva stopped Tazaro as he made to cross the street, tipping her head to the side.
“Follow me. I want to show you something.” She explained her interruption.
They passed by a beaten, abandoned staircase leading into the catacombs below where stolen items and contraband could be sold, traded, or otherwise bartered for in the Underground market. Sheeva found herself thankful that she hadn’t joined any bands of thieves and wondered how many “lost and found” requests she’d fulfilled just to have the items end up back down in the dark.
“Where...are you taking me?” Tazaro asked, eyeing a doorway with a green light and sign of a leaf etched into a diamond in the framework. “Not here, are you?” He wondered, nudging his nose in the direction of the secret, scandalous lover’s club with a furious blush on his face.
Sheeva looked in the direction and blanched.
“Oh! No! Gods, no!” She barked, turning her back on him and hurrying along the alleyway she’d pulled them into, scanning the fire-escape ladders in desperation of something. Tazaro chased after her.
“So, you do know about them.” He pointed out.
“Those, ugh, perverse, carnal, sex-pits? Unfortunately!” She admitted with a look of extreme distaste on her pallid face. She shuddered at the idea of some other man touching her in the way Tazaro did or another woman touching Tazaro in the ways she could. Or anyone touching either of them sensually in general.
“For the record, I didn’t know about them until I was tricked into going to one by the innkeeper at The Kozy Ketze in Roussell. The Undergrove. Pshaw. A disturbing place, really.” She insisted, pointing a finger in the air to emphasize her point.
“Vincent was more into that scene than I was. He’s eccentric like that.”
“Fitting, considering his...colorful personality.” She murmured, still looking for the particular green ladder. She huffed, feeling the thickness of the awkward airs.
“Vincent, does he–is he...”
–he likes both men and women, yeah.” Tazaro shrugged.
“Ah.” She clicked her tongue. Though it didn’t often happen at the temple, same-sex relationships still happened, and she supposed it would be the same anywhere else. “You do not seem surprised.”
“I’ve known Vincent since we were kids. Do I care who he likes to have sex with? No. Do I care that he’s a good man and my best friend? Yes. It’s as simple as that.”
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Sheeva pursed her lips as she thought of the potency behind Tazaro’s belief and smiled at Tazaro. She felt it was something she could agree with wholeheartedly.
“So, where are you taking me, if not to some sleazy sex dungeon?” Tazaro asked, smirking at the scowl on Sheeva’s face.
Sheeva gave up on the ladder and looked down the alley towards where they had entered, then towards the other end for any passersby. Baring her wings, she bid Tazaro follow, making quick work of the trip to the high rooftops of the buildings they were sandwiched between. So long as they didn’t fly past any windows, things would be fine, and even if not, they had to have been going fast enough that they would just appear as a flash.
At the top, they landed on their feet lightly and shuffled their wings back into their bodies.
“Wow, that’s an incredible view!” Tazaro blurted, star-struck as his jaw hit the floor.
“It is, isn’t it?” Sheeva beamed, happy to have witnessed the awed look on his face.
The view was just as breathtaking as it had been the first time and just as rewarding to have put in about as much work, having to climb a fire escape ladder the entire way instead of flying. Varying heights of buildings canvassed the horizon, though none were as tall as the Arc of Raynak, the iconic x-beam tower erected in honor of a more unified rule. Vivroa had previously been ruled by a tyrant suppressing the four smaller islands, and after the ruler’s seizure, the tower had been proposed to remind them of their pasts to prevent recurrence in the future. Of course, this was long before Sheeva was born, and while Bartholomew might know something or two about the events, Sheeva couldn't care less.
The four metal beams glimmered in the sun as they supported the flower perched on their intersection, and Sheeva now wondered if the arms were particularly pointing towards the four islands on purpose or not.
A naked, unimpressive, almost militantly shined bronze arm stretched to the southeast toward Cruinia. Fitting that the world leaders would consider Cruinia to be low-tier deservers. Sheeva sighed, wondering how far back in Sferran history Cruinians had been persecuted for one reason or another. If they had always been ostracized, how different would things be if they had not been? Would she still come to exist? It was a terrifying thought, and she frowned at herself for entertaining the idea.
Silver bands entwined in a spiral stretched in Pacem’s direction to the southwest. Perhaps the people of old thought Pacemians didn’t contribute much to Sferran society. Sheeva found this slight incredibly wrong; she at least enjoyed watching their plays...from a distance. The only one she crept up to and sat through without too much fear was Song of Evrae, and she probably could recite it with ease. She smiled and glanced at Tazaro, who was mesmerized by the stylish tower from a new angle, given his previous fear of heights. How pacifying it was to imagine tucking in children to bed with the tale of her favorite hero as a bedtime story!
An elegant, shimmering, golden arm spanned towards Pyruita, and Sheeva had to admit, she was a little surprised considering the northwestern farmlands gave them such a wide variety of foods and consumables to choose from. Indeed, she would have insisted the northwestern arm be platinum and among the highest tier, but maybe the people building it had simply wanted to continue the pattern they had already set. If so, she found it lazy and dull–like the journal of a gossip-girl. Better yet, like the worst waste of paper on plants that she’d ever seen. She wondered how Burke was doing, likely still getting scraps from Vincent. Did ragora get caffeine jitters, and did their little hearts race, and would they chitter non-stop?
Still feeling odd about the builder’s decision, Sheeva stared at the platinum band directed toward northeastern Tarrakk in its jagged, pointy glory, and if they had the technology at the time of building the tower that could radiate electricity, she imagined it would have done so as an homage to the futuristic collection of floating landmasses. As she fiddled with one of the vials in her bandolier, she realized a small goal she might like to attain, having asked to skip the question they’d come across to give it more honest thought.
To publish her works, and maybe even convince Tazaro to publish his, and travel Tarrakk as pioneers in scientific horizons, met and broken by Tazaro’s inventions?
It certainly sounded nice. Perhaps, it would be something they considered soon, post-Bartholomew, or even the distant future, after any kids they raised grew up and could sustain themselves in the world.
She sat down on the angled slats of the rooftop and hugged her knees to her chest. So many questions; some of them she felt might take a lifetime to discover an answer to. As she fished the now-folded and curly papers from her pocket to open them, she felt a wave of exhaustion hit and heaved a heavy sigh.
“Good to know I’m not the only one thinking this feels more like work than like fun–not to say I haven’t had a great time going through these!” He stated while taking a seat next to her. He rummaged through his bag as he searched for something, then pulled out the wine he’d bought earlier and began to unravel the protective foil around the mouth.
“I thought you were saving that for tomorrow?”
“I was, but,” Tazaro paused to shuffle the corkscrew from his toolkit. It was a recent addition, and only because, according to him: you never know when you’re going to meet a cute girl who can fly in through the hatch of your roof! “some of these questions are nuts,” He paused to pop the cork. “And so are we to consider tackling them sober.”
He brought the mouth of the bottle to his lips and sipped, making a face at his selection. Sheeva hoped it was perhaps too sweet and took it from him, hesitating to listen as he began to speak again.
“I mean, that one theoretical one: What would you do with eternity? Come on! We’re not immortal! It’s not our business! And, how do we happen to compromise–or not–with traditional roles? I don’t think we ever questioned it until now!”
The drink she took was deeper than she’d initially intended, and while the wine was indeed too sweet and tasted of alcohol that promised threat to her demure, the three or four gulps had been unintentional. It twisted its way into her gut, swimming around with a welling disturbance, and as she tried to break out of it, Sheeva flipped to the hastily scrawled page of things she found she appreciated about life.
When it helped enough to calm her, Sheeva stared at the crystal flower atop the tower as the wine assisted, and out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Tazaro take the same amount of healthy gulps. He seemed on edge about something.
“Sheeva.” He called to her, voice cracking, and she hoped it was from the sweetness of the heavy drinks they’d just matched and not from a worry of his, but realized it was the latter judging by the sullen look in his eyes. He jerked his head to tear away from her contact, and his hands tightened on the fabric of his jeans.
“I noticed that same look earlier. Are you having second thoughts?” He asked uncharacteristically bluntly. “I, I know we both asked each other, but are you feeling pressured?”
“What?” Sheeva blurted, stricken with the outrageous accusation.
The shadow of hope crossed his face at her answer and his next thought.
“Is this too much? The-the elopement–the ceremony, I mean?”
“No!” She protested so sharply it seemed to physically knock him back. “No, it’s just a lot to...process. I feel out of place. These questions aren’t helping–I mean, they are, but they’re so...I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. All I know are Malfa Temple’s ways, and even then, I didn’t...fantasize about getting married until I met you. It’s...I’m sorry. It’s ridiculous.”
Tazaro huffed, then began to laugh, shaking his head at himself.
“Come here.” He cooed, scooting closer and opening his arms for a hug. She stared at his now blurry face, feeling the elevated pressure and heat on her face from a growing buzz.
“That’s...understandable. I didn’t honestly imagine getting married to someone or even wanting to have kids until, well, you.” He pulled her into his lap, cradling the bottle of wine safely between the both of them.
“But, tomorrow, it’ll be official!” He beamed, then paused. “...to everyone else. Regardless, it’s your big day. I want to make sure it’s what you want.”
As much as she appreciated him doting on her so sweetly, Sheeva didn’t feel it was right for her to claim the day to herself.
“You say that, but it’s your big day, too.” She reminded him. They were getting married, not just that she was becoming a wife. They were pursuing something they’d never imagined together. And, in the end, he was still his own person, and how glad she was to see so!
“I–” He began in protest, then silenced as he actively thought about it. A pleased sheepish smile spanned his cheeks as the light in his eyes grew. “Yeah. It is!” He agreed, toasting to that and taking a drink. Sheeva took it and drank as he offered it.
In the short time it took for her to imbibe, the concerned look returned to his face.
“But is it what you want?” He asked.
Sheeva haughtily tutted at him.
“Zvezdayu,” She snarled unceremoniously and a little more drunkenly than she’d like to admit. She fought to collect herself and raised a hand to cup his cheek, ensuring their eye contact while she made her point. “A future with you is what I want. A piece of paper is...just that, and I don’t need a ceremony to declare myself married to you.”
Tazaro’s glazed eyes smiled down at her, and Sheeva liked to think that the red on his cheeks and beneath the collar of his clothes was due to a frantic blush, having been left speechless.
Sheeva gave a muffled squeak as he kissed her and squeezed her tight.
“Wow! Well. We’ve, uh, gotten this far. Want to go through with the ceremony anyway?”
She managed to look up at him despite his strong hug.
“Is that what you would like?”
He nodded slowly, warring with something.
“I am a sucker for tradition, you know. But...All of that is overwhelming, and all of this...” He motioned to the setting sun and the fiery orange glow of the now illuminated flower atop the tower that projected beams of the sun’s rays on his face. “Mm. This is much better.”
“If that’s the case, we could just...goof off the ceremony, then–as long as we still say our vows and promises. We could, uh...fold the paper up into a bird and fly it off a mountain.” She said, half-serious about flying their official documents off of random mountains.
He cackled from the hilarity in the image and squeezed her tightly again.
“Oh, man, I fucking love you!" He barked. "That sounds like much more fun! Let’s do that!” Tazaro pecked her cheek and took another sip, then sucked the liquor from between his teeth in a moment of buzzed clumsiness. "Ah, but first, we should request a copy, just in case."
“O-oh? I love you too, but you know I was kind of kidding, right?” She admitted, lifting the now almost empty bottle to her lips and sipping at it. She offered the last of it to him, and he shook his head at it.
“Sure you were.” He denied. She sputtered her lips and rolled her eyes, then turned her attention to the sun as it began to disappear behind the bronze and golden arches.
“I feel so...fulfilled. Whole. You’re an amazing woman, Sheeva. I like the way the sunlight lights your face. Makes you shine.” Tazaro smiled, then sneered at something. “Could say you’re ray-diant, even.”
Sheeva scrunched her nose in mock distaste.
“You and your puns are incorrigible.”
He chuckled in response and wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her back into his space and lean her back against his chest.
They sat in comfortable silence as the sun continued to set over the horizon, and as the eventide glow of the darkening night sky grew, Sheeva was the first to speak up.
“We should try to get some sleep. We have an eventful day tomorrow.” She announced, being the first to pull out of the embrace. He stood too, catching the empty bottle on its way down the steep grade of slats.
“We do!” He beamed, baring his wings and offering a hand for her to take. He paused, staring at the rooftops, a questioning look on his face.
“Hey, how do we...fly in town?”
“Stick close to the rooftops and avoid windows. People don’t generally look up.”
Red slates meshed with blue and grey in a blur as they flew toward the inn they’d purchased a couple of rooms at for the night, anticipating that they would need to sleep separately. Landing at the top of a fire-escape ladder, they shuffled their wings back into place and climbed down, Sheeva taking a moment to brush her flyaways back into the braid she’d had.
The Pineapple Hotel, a luxurious place Luka had recommended, greeted them in its misleading tan walls, and as they made their way to their respective rooms, Sheeva chuckled at the “Do Not Disturb” sign that simply read “I’m Naked!” instead.
“Well, here you are,” Tazaro stated, stopping at Sheeva’s room before glancing down the hall towards the one he was supposed to be sleeping in, a contemplative uncertainty in his eyes. She wondered if he was as apprehensive about sleeping alone as she was, but, wanting to face their fate, Sheeva slid the metal key into the lock and twisted, and as the door fell open, she pushed inside with her foot.
The bed seemed far too large for just herself, and she worried how dwarfed she would feel in it. Likely, she’d toss and turn, kept awake by the irritating twitch that she would get in her foot right as she began to doze off, making her even more aware that she had a bed to herself.
Sheeva lifted her gaze to Tazaro, wanting to crack a joke about how he’d have all the covers and pillows he wanted but stopped. Surprise caught her as she observed how he was staring back at her, occupying his fidget in an arms-crossed, nonchalant lean in the doorway. An intensity in his burning eyes as they roamed her body made her blush, and she cleared her throat as she shrugged off her bag and leaned it against the foot of the bed.
“You, ah, should get to your room.” She managed to remind him, bashfulness sweeping over her as she averted her gaze toward the balcony doors.
“Hm. Suppose I could.” He agreed, though not leaving the room when he broke his leaning stance against the frame.
Instead, he headed toward her with purpose, tucked a finger under her chin to raise her eyes to meet his, and captured her lips in a gentle kiss. The rumble of a chuckle, coupled with the curl of a smirk, gave her stunned lips something to meld to in surprise. His lips were soft, his caress softer still as a warm hand tucked against the small of her back to press her further into him. Previously tucked under her chin, the other hand rose to cradle her cheek.
Sheeva managed to collect her jaw off the floor despite how easily she fell into the bewitching trance, returning the sweet and slow kiss with a pucker of her lips and low hum as she raised her hands to rest them on his shoulders. A warm smile framed by wavy locks of chestnut met her eyes as she opened them when he pulled away slightly to nuzzle her nose with the tip of his. The warmth of his body encompassed her as his arms clutched her more prominently against his chest, and she swooned as he kissed her again with a satisfied sigh.
The hand on her cheek looped around to arc her neck in a tilt as he kissed her a third time to slide his tongue along her lips, and with a sharp, invigorated gasp, Sheeva’s lips parted as she combed a hand into his hair. Her body tingled with a jolt of electricity as she devoured the moan he thrust into her mouth with his tongue, strangely cool and differently textured. When the hand at the small of her back snaked across her waist to enthusiastically grasp her hip, the simple action made her knees weak.
Lost in his delicious kiss and exhilarating embrace, Sheeva tugged at the lapels of his coat, guiding him back towards the bed. A soft sound of interest went no further as he tucked her against him and dove into the mattress. Handsome features smiled down at her, eyes glazed over with interest as they darted to her lips and back into her eyes, his body supported by a careful prop on his knees and elbows.
Sheeva trailed her hands up his sides, able to feel the fruit of his hard-earned efforts, and it skyrocketed her appreciation for his wills and dedication. It ignited the ember of want in her chest, and she grasped at his lightly weathered, tailored jacket once more to urge him closer and into another heated kiss.
His weight against her fueled the inferno in her chest, and her hands traveled up his back to clutch suggestively at the fabric, earning a groan, shudder, and an even harder press against her body as his hands scooped beneath her shoulders. She didn’t mind the clink of Tyrj and Laerso as he shifted and barely noticed the dig of Abraxas into her hip, too enthralled with the desire now worming its way into her belly. When his mouth sealed against her neck and his teeth dragged sensually across the tendon of her throat, a heavy sigh passed through, and she tugged at his jacket again, needing to feel his bare, warm skin flush against hers.
“You’re making it hard to leave, Sheeva.” He murmured, the words ghosting themselves across her skin as he slowed himself and nipped at her collarbone to bring her to a sense of clarity.
“Feh! You started kissing me, Tazaro!” She defended breathlessly with a chuckle, swallowing past a dry throat as she slowly unclenched her hands from his jacket. Still, as he eased himself back, she did, too, letting go of a mildly disappointed sigh as her arms fell down around her sides.
“So. Tomorrow, then?” She murmured, feeling the joy light up her eyes as childish giddiness grew.
“Yeah.” He replied in a bare whisper, nibbling on his lip with a cheer in his eyes and curling on his lips. Tazaro shuffled to his feet and stuck his hands in his pockets in an attempt to control himself on unspoken need.
“I’ll, uh, see you there?” She asked, attempting to further distract herself by untying Abraxas from her hip as she scooted to the edge of the bed.
He offered a hand for her to take, and she did, snorting and giving a pleased grin at his “cheesy romantic gesture” of placing a kiss on the back of her hand.
“I’ll be there, and you’ll be gorgeous, mon Cherie.” Tazaro swooned, pulling her into a hug. Sheeva returned it and chuckled at his tight squeeze, feeling the intense rumble of his chest as he growled out an “I’m so excited!”
They shared a few moments of a tight enough hug that threatened to make Sheeva sleep like a swaddled babe, and as her eyes fell upon the rolled-up sheets of paper, her eyes widened, having forgotten about the things they’d agreed to finish once having time to themselves.
“We still have our personal lists to finish!” She reminded him, lifting her head from his chest. The reminder smacked him across the face, and his eyes widened before he winced at himself.
“Damn, that’s right! I forgot!” His wince deepened. “And here I thought my days feeling the panic of a paper due in the morning that I haven’t started were done!”
Sheeva gave him a curious look, quirking an eyebrow. It wasn’t something she was familiar with. He snickered to himself and shook his head.
“Heh, don’t worry about it. Lock the door behind me?” He asked, pulling away and heading for the door, her hand still in his, fingers interlaced. Sheeva stopped him and leaned up to kiss him as the door flew open, still feeling the elated buzz running through her body. He didn’t protest, immediately grasping her waist to assist in her lift to reach his lips, purring in interest.
“Huh! I thought I’m supposed to leave?” He bantered. Sheeva smirked and tucked her finger underneath his chin.
“Mm, Maybe I don’t want you to. I was really enjoying myself.” She pleaded, dragging a hand down his chest to halt it at the waist of his jeans, brazen enough to cup him lightly. With how hot her cheeks felt, she hoped it still had the intended effect, considering her face had to be as red as a tomato.
The door banged shut as Tazaro stepped back inside to whirl her around. With expertise, his body pinned hers against the door, and with a hungry growl, he leaned in for a kiss as his arms caged her in. Deft fingers plucked the buttons apart on her shirt before looping around to her chest bindings and finding the clasp he knew his way around as though it were second nature. He pulled away from her just enough to allow the loosened bindings to pool around her feet before pinning his waist flush with hers once more.
Sheeva’s hands couldn’t resist, and she slipped them beneath the fabric of his jacket, yearning to feel his skin beneath her hands and the enticing shiver he’d get whenever her nails dragged oh-so-sensually along his chest. To further deny her of the simple pleasure, Tazaro wrapped his hands around her wrists and pinned them above her head, silencing her pout of protest with a fierce kiss.
Her nipples perked as she felt the smooth fabric of his shirt and the warmth of his chest as he brought his mouth down upon her neck once again. A deep-throated hum of arousal tickled the spot he teased when she gave a hot sigh and managed to hike her leg around his waist to bring his pelvis closer so she could give a gentle grind.
“Mm!” He chuckled, slowing his actions and resting his forehead against the door. Sheeva felt it was a little more forceful than he’d meant to as the dull thud echoed into the back of her head but spared him the embarrassment from pointing it out.
“I, I really must go, Sheeva.” Tazaro sighed apologetically, now trembling from his efforts to restrain himself.
Sheeva bit her lip as a protest, “Must you really?” threatened to fly out of her mouth. However, the question must have shown more on her face when he gave a soft chuckle, and his expression warmed. He released her wrists, and while she let them drop a little way, continued to hold them up as though he’d tied them there with a titillating thread of energy.
Tazaro stroked her cheek lovingly, and as he lifted his body away from hers, she mourned the loss of body heat and sensual contact.
“Tell you what. Soon as we finish the ceremony at the temple and sign that piece of origami paper, you can drag me back here and throw my underwear across the room.” He snickered, earning a blush and meek smile. It didn’t stop him from leaning in to whisper in her ear, and she shivered as the tickle on her eardrum cavorted its way down into her feet. “I’ll be all yours, and you may have your way with me.”
Stunned and impressed into silence by his forwardness, all she could manage was a sharp, jerky nod of her head. It must have been enough since he cockily murmured an “alright” and fully pushed himself off the door, adjusting his clothes to straighten them out.
The flirty smile cracked on his face, and he popped his collar, giving her a wink.
“Gotta look good for my short trip down the hall.”
The laugh tore through her, and she finally found her footing, moving away from the door to open it for him. She found the plackets of her shirt and held them together over her bare chest as she stepped around the cover of the door to bid him a final goodbye.
“I love you, Tazaro Jules.” She smiled, wanting to contribute to his silliness. It brought the pleased glint in his eye, and she watched them widen, still easily tickled pink. He dipped his head for another kiss, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear in a tender play of affection.
“I love you, too, Sheeva Chorea.”
The statement made her squeal with excitement, and she pecked him back a couple of times. Too quickly, their kisses grew, fueled by the magnetic rush of joy, but Sheeva managed to dredge up the restraint this time. Her free hand pressed lightly against his chest.
“I suppose that, traditionally, you must...you must go.”
It was his turn to pout slightly, eyes dropping to the corners as his bottom lip stuck out.
“Yeah, I know.” He admitted with a sigh, stepping back and turning away to face the opposite door that currently boarded someone else, arms crossed. Whether in an actual show of disappointment or to help assist him in further refraining from pulling her back into his arms, Sheeva wasn’t sure.
Eager to ease his transition to his room, she uttered a small, barely-there “goodnight,” to which he turned his head slightly and nodded. His even-toned “goodnight” suggested that he was attempting to keep the awkward tension at bay, and as he grabbed his bag on the doorstep, she peered through the crack as he headed for his door and disappeared through it.
Retrieving the key from her pocket, she slid it into the lock and turned it, letting go of a heavy sigh as the gears turned and the latch clicked. Willing herself away from the door, she turned to face the empty room.
She supposed she could take a long, steamy bath to wind herself down, but as her eyes fell upon her bag with the rolled-up papers tucked into the side pocket, she reminded herself of her due obligations.
Settling with a quick scrub and rinse, Sheeva drained the tub and dried off, relishing in the comfort of the soft bath towel provided, not used to such luxurious accommodations. The towel wrapped in place around her body, she glanced out of the opened balcony doors onto the town below. They were high enough up that, in the freedom of the room, she could remain as naked as she pleased. With that assurance, the towel lay forgotten on the edge of the tub, and she crossed the room to her bag to retrieve her work.
Spreading the rolled papers flat with the help of a lantern she didn’t bother using, the graphite pencil rested uncomfortably in her hand. She distracted herself from that as she twirled it around like Tazaro had taught her to do. Often, he would occupy his need to fidget by spinning a screwdriver around in his free hand while muttering calculations to himself if working on a project otherwise not meant to be an elaborate gift for her.
The questions on the paper were more daunting than she had expected, making her think of such things as whether or not they “truly accepted each other” or–and this was the most intimidating–Am I still me? It further begged the question: who am I, to begin with?
She hadn’t done it in a long time, but as her hand dove into her hair to fiddle with a lock of hair, she nibbled on her lip as she thought of it.
Who was she?
She huffed, amused with herself as she thought jokingly that, in the grand scheme of things, she was a Sferran-Ta’hal by the simple name of Sheeva, who had overcome many things. Mostly, and far more important than any physical feats, she had molded and shaped herself into a woman she was proud of. Even though Tazaro, Cassie, Hasch, and Vincent had given her a multitude of pointers and advice, in the end, she accomplished personal growth by taking their advice and smashing the cages of awful, ridiculous paradigms.
She likened it to how, when she had first started training Tazaro, she had stated something along the lines of “he put in his hard work and efforts; all I did was show him the way.”
The confident realizations and eventual transfer of them on paper helped her ease back into the chair, and as she slumped with a mentally exhausted sigh, Sheeva rubbed at her eyes.
She supposed she should try to sleep considering she would need to be up the earliest and peeled herself out of the chair, sauntering to the bed. Still, she hesitated at the foot of it, eyeing the gently mussed bedsheets with a girlish smile and heat on her cheeks at their fervent make-out session. Though they’d made love many times before, everything about their kisses had felt new, and as she recalled her swoon at feeling the heat of his toned body pressed against hers and even the cares-to-the-wind dig of Abraxas in her hip, Sheeva fanned herself with a hand as she blushed even harder. It reminded her of an “innocent-turned-less-so” moment while stargazing in their tower when they first started dating, when their hands would shamelessly grasp, albeit clumsily and inexperienced in her case.
She huffed and crossed her arms, pretending to mock herself at her schoolgirlish attitude, and forced herself into the bed. It was like floating on a cloud, though as she considered that clouds literally had zero mass and they fell through, she supposed it was more aptly compared to floating in the water of the women’s communal bath. As the sheets warmed quickly from her being a “living furnace,” she felt herself sink into the comfort of the bed. Still, her nipples perked again, somewhat from the threads of the sheets settling over her breasts and somewhat from phantom hands that teased and roamed her skin as she recalled a late-night spur-of-the-moment...wash after accidentally training for far too long.
It made her yearn for his touch and served as an icy reminder that he wasn’t there, and Sheeva shook her head at herself and muffled an irritated groan into a pillow, using the coolness of it to calm her furious cheeks. She lifted it off and set it at her side, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes to sleep.
She wasn’t sure when or how, but time slipped away from her for a few moments before her leg jerked hard, causing her to jolt awake. She directed a glare at the ceiling. The tick-tock of the clock on the wall bored itself into her brain, and she huffed in annoyance again.
A familiar singing voice reached her ears, and as she tuned into it, recognized it as Tazaro’s, his voice about as sweet as salt. She didn’t mind the break from silence or the maddening clock on the wall and listened to the lullaby she had taught him from her childhood. He must have been sitting on his balcony, humming while filling out his side of the paperwork. Maybe, he’d even come across the question about how they would be as parents to any children they had someday. As she heard a tinkering of metal and an uttered string of swear words, a smile spread on her face. He had probably already finished his paperwork and was now working on their wedding rings.
“Maybe I should just–No, no, she’s probably asleep. Oui vilgek eteud.” She heard him say to himself.
Realizing he was just as restless as she was, Sheeva sat up and swung her feet out of bed, skipped across the room to her discarded pants, jerked them up from their pile on the floor, and hastily began to step into them, threatening to tear their seams as her foot caught on the inside pocket she’d added for smuggling.
“Oh-ho, so you’re not asleep.” His voice asked, and she jerked her head up to look at him as he stood in the balcony doorway, appearing to have simply leaped off the rail of his balcony and onto hers. She inwardly smirked. She’d trained him so well.
His surprise faded into a naughty smirk as he stepped into the light of the room. A few styled locks of hair framed his face, long strands otherwise tied back behind his head in a well-done ponytail. He wore a pair of black slacks, supported around his waist with a matching black leather belt and small silver buckle. A red, silken shirt that he must have gotten from his father during their brief visit accentuated his eyes, causing them to be even more bewitching as they glazed over with increasing libido upon viewing her naked self. He began to roll the cuffs of the sleeves up to showcase his toned forearms as though to free his hands for more...attentive things.
“What are you up to?” He cooed, advancing on her.
Caught red-handed in what was obviously her getting dressed to go see him, Sheeva cleared her throat and stepped out of the pants that she’d only managed to get halfway up her legs, kicking them aside.
“Ah, well, I, I couldn’t sleep, so I...” She cleared her throat. “Well, what are you up to?” She deflected desperately. His smirk grew as he advanced.
“Staring at my woman as she’s attempting to sneak into my room.”
Sheeva hummed and stepped toward him, moving her hair out of her face.
“What happened to following traditions?” She teased, closing the distance and placing a kiss on his cheek as he turned his head away shyly, figuring his answer to be something along the lines of: “To hell with tradition!”
“Traditions are ridiculous–I mean, what was I thinking?” He asked, brows furrowed in concern. Sheeva paid it no mind, determined to distract him as she continued to trail kisses down his strong jaw and onto his neck. “Here, do it this way, because it’s the way, the only way, the way we’ve always done it, and the way we expect you to–”
Sheeva interrupted him with a deliberate kiss, raising a hand to cradle his cheek in it and lightly persuade him to look at her.
“When has this relationship ever been traditional, Tazaro?”
It snapped his addled brain to clarity, and he enclosed her in a hold, humming a pleased “never” before leaning his head down to kiss her intently. Without his jacket to pad and prevent Sheeva’s hands from reveling in the contours of his arms, her hands freely roamed, thrilled to feel the heat beneath the thin layer. His bare, freshly calloused hands from picking up his old profession tickled her skin, the warmth they gave serving as a fantastic contrast from the breeze flowing in from the balcony.
A firm grasp of her butt and a gentle coax upward demanded her dependence on him for balance as it thrust her kiss further against his mouth, and she hummed at the energizing push of his hand on her lower back as the buckle of his belt pressed against her mons pubis. The brush of his erection against her thigh made her want with anticipation, and she fumbled with the buttons of the red silken shirt Luka had given him, mesmerized by the smooth hardness of its pearl buttons.
He crouched quickly and scooped her up, making his way fast towards the bed Sheeva had half-assedly attempted to sleep in and lay her down on it once again.
Finally, finally, she could touch him, snaking her fingers inside of the shirt now only held in place by the bottom hem tucked into the waist of his pants. Her nails traced up along his sides, the ripple of her hands causing her to let out a satisfied chuckle as they dragged over the peaks and valleys of his obliques before looping up the backside of his shoulders. She squeezed them, thrilled as they flexed when he leaned down to kiss her, giving a “heh” of approval at her ready exploration.
The rigidness and weight of his body covered and comforted her, and the ferocity of his kiss fueled the flames in her chest. When her breasts flattened against his chest, it made her buzz and break out of the kiss to sigh, wriggling to more firmly press her bosom against his.
Hint taken, her delight skyrocketed at his attentiveness to unspoken need as he took a breast in his hand and gave it a firm, rhythmic knead. She couldn’t resist an outcry at how good it felt, feeling her nipples perk to their hardest, one to the open air and the other to his palm, and her back arched as he latched his mouth to her neck instead to nip and suck on her skin.
Craving to feel the wetness of his tongue and the pinch of her nipple between his teeth, she greedily pressed on his shoulders, trembling with anticipation as he slowly obliged with sweet kisses towards the other breast. She sighed and murmured a sultry “oo, Tazaro!” as his tongue toyed with the pertness before closing his mouth over it to run the muscle around the puckered areola.
A shockwave rippled through her skin and shot to her head and forced the appeased “Ah!” from the back of her throat as he pinched one nipple and nibbled on the other, the groan of desire muffled as her hands tightened involuntarily on his shoulders. The sound, the actions, and the fulfillment of his caress made her snap, driving the heat of arousal straight between her legs, and she bucked her hips to press the area that longed for his touch the most against his waist.
In an immediate response, his hips jerked to press the tent in his slacks, and he let out a purr over her chest, managing to grasp her waist in mild protest.
“Tazaro, I want to feel you.” She begged, not ashamed in the slightest about her pout.
“Problem with that is that I’m still clothed...and I do need to keep these nice and neat for tomorrow.” He mumbled against her chest. Still, she felt the unintentional brush of his hand as he fished the rest of the shirt out of his slacks. The bottom hem felt like a splash of warm sun on her legs, and she reveled in its presence.
“Besides, I’ve only just begun with you.” He teased, the mischievous grin flowing into his eyes as he sat back on his laurels to gaze back at her. His mild threat carried a rousing delight, and the way he traveled a hand down her stomach ever-so-slowly made her draw in a short, bracing gasp, then sigh with bliss as he slipped it past her mons pubis and to where she’d previously demanded his touch in her impatience.
The involuntary curl of her toes and fall of her head to the side as he dragged his finger along her already wet labia majora to mindfully coat it in a sheen of her arousal made her shiver, finding the mildly calloused fingertips even more dazzling. Her hands gripped at the sheets, and her sighs turned to pants as she melted with each stroke, slide, or massage of his fingers, swirling her need around his hand. Another insistent buck aimed to drive his fingers into her was torturously refused, eliciting a “Feh!” of disapproval, though quickly reconciled with a press of the pad of his thumb on her clitoris. As it created a surge of the sexual gratification she needed, Sheeva decided she would let the previous affront go, mind too occupied by pleasure.
Her sighs grew into a more vocal mewl as he crawled over her again, the tickle of his open shirt and excited breaths flowing across her chest adding to the wreck of her senses. His hover was short-lived as his mouth clamped over her other nipple to give it the same attention, creating a delightful two-point circuit of pleasure that cycled through her body at rapid speed and made her squirm.
Sheeva’s eyes flew open in harsh, almost angry protest as he pulled his body away from her once again, unappreciative of the amused glint in his eyes and the half-cocked grin on his face. But, as she watched him lower his head, loop her leg over one shoulder, and hold tight to the other, her eyes squeezed shut again as she saw spots. As her head swam and consciousness fluxed, she swore in rapture, fighting hard not to grasp and ruin his carefully folded collar or the occasionally stingy wound on his shoulder. He voiced his silent, smug response with a hardened hold, faster stroke, and a continued, unrelenting assault with his tongue. Shortly after, Sheeva’s body stilled, then swayed in ecstasy as her head snapped back while the wail she’d get when his head was between her legs rang out of the open balcony doors.
She barely registered his retrieval of his soaked fingers and his appreciative smooches on her inner-thigh scar, stroking the leg still dangling over his shoulder as it relaxed against smooth silk.
“I, absolutely…” He murmured, pulling himself out of the tangle of her legs.
“Absolutely love...” Tazaro continued, placing a kiss above her navel in passing.
“Making you sing like that.” He finished, pecking her lips gently.
He nuzzled her nose and kissed her a couple more times, then chuckled sheepishly at himself.
“You have no idea how good it makes me feel.” He blushed with his confession and buried his face against her neck, sighing in earnest gratitude as he settled to lay himself carefully on her body.
“Mm, believe me, I can relate,” Sheeva assured, blinking sluggishly at the ceiling as she summed the strength to wrap her arms around his torso.
It did not take long for their kisses to grow passionate and needy, and as Sheeva trailed her fingers down his chiseled chest, taut abdomen, and beneath the waistband of his slacks, she chuffed, pleased with herself at the effect her touch had on him when he sighed and bucked his hips against hers.
As she felt him trail the sigils on her skin for her contraceptive spell, she braced herself for the tingling thread of energy, giggling as he tickled her side to distract her from the foreign experience, something he would do after she admitted to finding it incredibly pervasive.
He sat up, and as she heard the clink of his belt unbuckle and the unzip of his pants, Sheeva shimmied herself into a comfortable spot, wanting to witness the alluring shadow of pleasure fly across his face–though not as an act of perversion, as they’d once curiously discussed.
No, such a natural thing soothed and nurtured her soul, knowing that he enjoyed that initial joining of their bodies just as much as she did. If she couldn’t witness his elation, the tender hum or low mumblings of content served just as well, causing her heart to still want to explode in her ribcage.
As he aligned himself and slid into her, controlled and slow, the light, low sigh he gave through parted lips filled her with joy. Her arms received him in a welcome hug as he dove in for a kiss, their bodies as intimately close as possible.
“You okay?” He asked in that caring, loving tone, his breath a mere wisp upon her neck as he buried his face in her neck, finding her hand with his and intertwining their fingers.
Sheeva nodded and squeezed his hand, voicing her comfort with a confident “yes,” and as he began to move, languid and steady, she gasped in satisfaction, unable to help the flutter of her eyes as the waves of sensation began to flow over her. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and her heel pressed against his lower back to spur him, earning a soft chuckle and smooth, rocking pace.
“You’re so beautiful, and so...amazing, and I–I’m so happy to be getting married to you!” He whispered between an out-of-pace rock of his hips inspired by his confession and heavy pants. As he shifted to scoop her up beneath him even more, Sheeva’s moan was lost to her ears, clutching her free hand at the muscles on his back.
“Me, too, Tazaro, I can’t wait! Ya muja oui!” She replied, overwhelmed with emotion as she pulled him in for a kiss, guiding the quickening of his hips as he picked up his pace with an encouraging flex of her legs.
If either of them made a sound, it was quickly muffled by the pillow beneath her head as they fell apart, panting and chuckling from a mind-blowing, giddy high. Tazaro hummed as he placed chaste kisses on her shoulders and chest–wherever he could comfortably reach as he settled carefully on her side.
“I love you, too, Sheeva...For the rest of our unnatural life.” He grinned, kicking the sheet up so he could catch it and drape it over the both of them.
Sheeva withdrew into the cocoon of his embrace and the fortress of the sheet, placing a tired kiss on the arm he craned beneath her head.
“I’m glad I snuck back in.” He commented with a sated sigh.
She giggled at his statement before letting her eyes close, finally comfortable enough to sleep, thankful to notice the jerk of her leg wasn’t quite as obstructive as usual, and even less when he entangled the stubborn thing with his own.
