Gareth Stone 🙌 Akos Kereseth (akos) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2019-05-19 10:24:00 |
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Entry tags: | !narrative, * jeanne, c: gareth stone |
WHO: Gareth Stone → Akos Kereseth
WHEN: Friday, May 17
SUMMARY: Akos makes his intentions clear to Cyra.
WARNINGS: Some kissin'. Vague references to pain.
He had saved her life, but she hadn't wanted him to. She was angry at him for it, as if her sacrifice meant nothing because he'd come back. She'd tried to get him out, to take on Ryzek on her own, to end it... But he'd come back. He had to. There was no leaving Cyra behind. Not anymore. She was so much more than a weapon. She was a hushflower, all power and possibility. Capable of doing good and harm in equal measure. He spoke to her in Thuvhesit, a language she knew but didn't often speak. It was… too soft, almost vulnerable. The Shotet would never admit to such weakness. Their language was all hard consonants and sharp edges. But though he'd inherited the revelatory tongue, Thuvhesit would always be his. "It's worth everything to me, what you did," Akos insisted. "It changes everything." He leaned in closer, touching his forehead to hers. They shared the same air. "I like how you sound in your own language." The Thuvhesit was unpracticed, but understandable. Akos smiled at the words. "Can I kiss you? Or will it hurt?" Cyra's eyes widened, but she replied, "And if it hurts? Life is full of hurt, anyway." Some of her currentshadows had disappeared. Her entire left arm, from shoulder to fingertips- a hand that now rested against his chest- was bare. Even if he had somehow lost his own currentgift, her touch wouldn't be hurting him right now. Akos' eyes were wide with wonder. "You saw me as someone better than I was," she spoke, quietly. "You told me that I could choose to be different than I had been, and I began to believe you. When I woke up again, the gift was different. It doesn't hurt as much. Sometimes I can control it." He still couldn't bring himself to say anything. He didn't know what words there were to say. But she pressed on. "I don't know what you want to call it, what we are to each other now. But I wanted you to know that your friendship has… quite literally altered me." Friendship. No. "You don't know what to call it?" Akos dropped his armor to the ground with a sharp clatter as he reached for Cyra. He pulled her tight against him and whispered two words against her lips. "Sivbarat. Zethetet." There would be no mistaking his intentions, his desire. Sivbarat she would know. A Shotet word, it referred to a person's dearest friend, someone so close that to lose them would be like losing a limb. If she would insist that they were merely friends, perhaps that word fit. But the Thuvhesit spoke of his truth more keenly. The kiss was rushed and almost uncomfortable in its urgency, but they tried again. Akos' clenched his fists into Cyra's shirt, pressing her back against the rough wall of the stairwell. Finally, she asked, "What does it mean, zethetet?" Perhaps the flush of his cheeks was from their kiss, their closeness, the rush of this moment. But Akos just kissed her again. "Beloved." |