fiach. (ravenwinged) wrote in faeparties, @ 2014-06-16 08:33:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, *gardens, fiach, sarah blackwood |
WHO: Sarah and Fiach
WHAT: Talking. And then some.
WHERE: The gardens
WHEN: A little while after the end of the plot.
WARNINGS: A little sexual commentary.
NOTES: Part 1 of 2.
It was the old oak tree that called to her when everything went back to normal, well, as normal as it could be at least. She stood below the behemoth of a tree, studying it with a familiar curiosity. The branches were long and thick, spiraling out as arms welcoming her home. Every leaf swayed in their quiet song tickled by the gentle wind. It was so normal it almost didn’t seem real. The hitch of hesitation was overcome when her hand laid over the thick trunk, moss cool under her fingertips.
The sigh that escaped her shattered into the air and into a million of relieved pieces on the breeze. A genuine smile appeared on her full lips. “Hey there,” her hand ran over the primeval bark, the familiar rough friction bringing memories to the surface; an escape, a place to think, a place to be safe. Her eyes danced about at the gnarled, raised roots, more like tentacles rising up from an ocean of green. Sarah’s foot wedged testing her weight on its strength, it creaked slightly, but she was right--its ancient roots would not give way. Her smile widened into a grin, breaking out over her face, filling her cheeks. “Alright, let’s do this.”
Her hand latched onto a knot, grunting as she pulled herself up she began her climb, gripping branch, making footing where she could. She was quick, the ground below her quickly forgotten, hair kissed by the sun tumbling around her with each pull of her arm. Yes, yes. This is what she needed. Each tug that took her closer brought her heart to a quicker state. Each grab of a sturdy branch brought a surge of joy, higher and higher. When she finally reached the bowed arm of the tree she stood, laughing in triumph, she was so high up! It was like...like she was on Yggsdril--even if it wasn’t an Ash tree. It was a behemoth, towering over the other trees like a god and she could see for miles; hedges, mazes, oceans of flowers swaying in color. She let out cry then, a triumphant one, screeching into the branches birds taking off in a frenzied flutter of winged silhouettes. “Yeah, just--fuck yeah!” Her teeth were bared in that wolfish smile, an inner light flickered in the storm of her tempest eyes. Exaltation radiating from her like a beacon. Finally plopping down to settle on the curve she kicked off her shoes to let her feet dangle, unaware she was not alone; euphoric and for once completely at home.
Fiach was silent the entire time he watched Sarah climb up the tree, smiling very faintly as she progressed without ever once seeing his shadowy form lounging among the upper branches. It wasn’t a huge surprise to find him in a tree - a namesake was a namesake - but he generally avoided it when he kept his more mortal-friendly appearances, since it was a touch awkward to explain if they didn’t know him already. For the moment, though, he stayed where he was, enjoying the slight breeze through the leaves as the sun slowly sank toward the horizon and the sight of the usually so-angry girl clambering up into the branches not far from him.
She enjoyed nature, it seemed. Or at least dominating it. The thought - and the reminder of their last encounter when she’d gotten so angry at his implications - made his smile turn into a grin, and he shifted silently on his branch, hands behind his head as she howled victory to the sky.
He gave her a few long quiet moments before sighing in a calm sort of satisfaction, staring out at the sight of the disrupted birds trying to find new perches.
“It’s a better sight than you’ll get many places here.” Or at least, better than other safe places. “I, for one, would be much more fond of it if it were a little cooler out, and possibly later in the season … but midsummer is midsummer and I’m here and alive, so I really shouldn’t complain.” He glanced down at her. “I didn’t know you liked to climb trees.”
The quiet moments that passed were peaceful, her head clearing as swiftly as clouds after a storm. The voice though caused her head to whip up; he was as a shadow, or even a bird, sitting there in perfect blacked stillness. Had he been there the whole time? Probably. Part of her prickled, ready to snap and climb down without so much as another word. Yet ...her conversation with Olivia made her reel it in, hesitate. His words and questions were harmless, for now at least, and so her shoulders relaxed to draw back against the girth of the tree for support.
“Yeah, I do.” She replied, staring out. “Seems you do as well...and actually, the temperature depends. If its cool, too cool and you climb the right tree the sun will warm you right up.” The shadows, golds and emeralds of the trees leaves and light danced over her face from below, there was the curl of a smile there. “If it’s too hot the right one can offer shade. Or the type of tree, willows usually mean water, so there could be a good place to take a dip, you know?”
Sarah scooted forward, holding on by her hands so here legs and bare feet could sway, studying the latter of branches below. “You really, really shouldn’t complain.” She agreed for once, staring out with the first shine of real wonder in her eyes. “This tree--this view… it’s amazing, I’ve seen pictures of trees like this, you know from jungles or places in the world I could never visit, but here I am sitting on top of the world so to speak.” Her right eye squinted and she grinned up at him. “I guess I can appreciate you people and your world to a degree, as long as this oak tree doesn’t spray out any weird perfumes.” The edge of a tease was on her voice.
“Why are you up here all alone?” She was scooting along the branch, determined. The one above her wasn’t too out of reach...and she felt like she was shouting their conversation. “Thought fae just wanted to frolic and rut and get hammered.”
She didn’t immediately lash out, or swear, or snarl, or try to climb back down the tree. A far more positive reaction than he’d been expecting, and so Fiach just settled back against his branch to get more comfortable and watched the glory of the gradual sunset. Her shoulders might have tensed, her body ready to flee, but she didn’t, and so he was satisfied that he’d have a little company even out here. Sarah was a tricky one, and he fully intended to figure out what made her tick. And now to use that to lure her into a bed.
“It comes with the territory.” Idly he shifted his legs, running bare feet across the rough bark of the branch. It was a strangely comforting feel. He listened to her talk about trees (with which he had plenty of familiarity) and the view, the way fairy was more incredible than she’d seen before, and he grinned in general agreement as he relaxed. Laughed a little when she commented on the propensity of the plants here to … alter things unexpectedly. “Oh, believe me, I want to do all three, but it’s in my nature to enjoy a little quiet solitude from time to time.”
When the moon rose over the forests where bare-branched trees reached to the sky, the last few leaves of summer blowing away on autumn’s breath, with nothing living to be seen for miles except the birds that waited for the cold to strike before they took flight … those were his glory days, and when life wandered into them it didn’t last very long.
“And after all that excitement, I figured I could use a little time to reflect.” His voice was entirely casual. “Learned quite a few things I hadn’t considered before, after all. How did you enjoy the king’s sudden whim?”
She understood that feeling of comfort, it was why she had removed her shoes, forgetting them for a time. It was a connected feeling that was hard to describe, and it made climbing that much easier. “Huh, that’s a first. I never thought we’d have something in common,” she mused aloud. Quiet solitude is what she sought often, somewhere to cleanse her mind, detox so to speak. The fiery sun was spilling colors over the leaves in majestic artistry, and climbing the branches was like slipping through the colors themselves.
“You learned something?” Genuine surprise there. “I thought fae were what they were and that was that.” She stretched her arms and fingers, grasping the branch above her, pushing off with the balls of her feet Sarah grunted, pulling herself up to his branch, the muscles of her upper arms rippling beneath the skin, she steadied herself, allowing her legs to hang over without a care. “I hated it, but uh… I learned things too. I can admit that.”
She had learned the way a man’s body reacts to a woman, in all honesty. The way the slightest breath or motion of a hip could set a small fire on the skin. In a way she understood them a bit better, and would try to be a bit more lenient...not a free pass, but a bit of understanding could go a long way. The self control it took was no joke, and while it was certainly not the same for every man, it had certainly been a struggle for her.
She rain a hair through her sunkissed hair allowing it to tumble freely down her back, her eyes could make out the shadow of mountains in the distance. Sarah glanced down at his feet, the way he ran them over the bark, and caught herself smiling a bit. She was doing the same with her palms as she held herself steady on her perch. It was a little endearing to see someone so self assured as Fiach do something so simple, and surprisingly sweet in a way. “Well, if you don’t mind me interrupting your solitude, I’ll watch the sunset here.” Her thumb was running over a smooth groove of knotted bark in circles. “...maybe we can both figure out what we learned.”
“We are,” he said simply, gazing out at the treetops, the birds flitting from one to the next, the endless distance of the gardens and forests. “And therefore a change of that magnitude can be a little … unusual.” The word unsettling crossed his mind, but he held it back because that would be admitting he’d been unsettled at all. Which he never was, and never would be, and the idea of being so almost made him angry. But Fiach just smiled and closed his eyes and put it in the back of his mind. “But educational as well. The next time something like that happens, I assume we’ll all be fairly prepared.”
What he’d learned had been primarily to his own benefit. Of course he knew mortals inside and out, but now he knew mortal women in … yet a more intimate way. It had been something of a benefit. Why it hadn’t been was a thing he would keep to himself until he faded out of existence.
“Don’t hate it. Keep it as an experience. Maybe not to cherish, but to use as a marker for things you hate even more.” Like whatever might come next. His grin turned feral for a moment, then smoothed back into its usual casual look. “Feel free, of course; the sunset is for everyone, as is the entire palace and grounds, to a degree. And I certainly would never object to company. Particularly yours.”
Sort of a come-on, in a way, but with no outright overtones to it. He wouldn’t try anything while they were this far up just on the grounds that doing so in the past had never ended well. Besides, this sort of peace was nice, and she had moved up to his branch of her own volition. No sense in scaring her off because of an insatiable need.
“You know, unusual isn’t such a bad thing.” She told him. “It’s...okay. I hate it.” She admitted freely. “...I fucking say hate a lot, but it’s therapeutic. Anyway. When things change around me, when something just throws me off, it makes me angry. It makes me bristle, because things are supposed to be a certain way. I am a certain way. It’s just so…” She would also have to agree on unsettling, but the word never fell from her lips. Instead she rolled her tongue along her bottom teeth. “People are always changing though. Growing...even if it’s the most frustrating, ridiculous, hair pulling experience ever. It’s either for the better or the worst.”
“I take everything as a learning experience,” her legs were swinging slightly. “Even if I hate it, to not learn from it would be stupid, and a waste of my time---though I can’t say the same for you.” There was a touch of sarcasm to her words, ah, the ever dryness that could be Sarah Blackwood. The come on was noted, and a brow rose sharply. “Really? I am sort of shitty company, I suck at it to be honest. Then again I have a feeling you’d say just about anything to get some action.” She smirked slightly at that, she too was more comfortable in the tree. Harder to try things, and they were actually holding a conversation, which was a pleasant change.
“You’re not so bad when you’re not being a sly dick,” she chimed in jest tilting her head as the waves of her hair tumbled to the side, caught in an aura of gold. She studied him a moment, drawing in her own observations. “I see…” she hesitated, shifting on her hands. “I see why some guys seek pleasure now.” She admitted. “It’s a feeling to get lost in, a way to connect without having to...let anyone...in…” Sarah touched her chest. “In here, but that’s the curse for some women. Not all. But...it can leave a person vulnerable. That’s why it scares me. I don’t want anyone in here.” She tapped her chest once then turned back to the sunset, surprised she had shared that. Maybe it was the tree, or the coolness of the air, she hoped it wasn’t a spell.
No.
Her brows knitted. It had come from her, a small piece of her that was exposed like her scar, and she knew it could be used to hurt her anyway, but there it was.
Even with his eyes closed, with a thousand things playing in front of his eyelids, Fiach listened to every word Sarah said. He knew there would be something in her words that he could use as leverage to get through to her, to lure her back to him from the rage-induced separation they’d had the last time they ran into each other. Entirely his fault, and yet he’d just been going with what he knew best, trying to entice her. Not the first time he’d judged wrong, but there was always a way back. And she was being so polite - for a given definition of the word, he thought with a wider smirk as she jabbed at his propensity for sex - and so talkative. There would be something in there he could use.
Or something in there that could hit a cold dark spot in him that made him hesitate for a fraction of a second before responding. If any other fae who knew him had been privy to the conversation, they would have known that moment of icy stillness for something very wrong. I don’t want anyone in here.
No, he thought, you really don’t. The chances of him using that rawness against her were almost infinitesimally slim.
“And it’s a good time,” he said, still very still, like a carrion bird waiting patiently for something to stop moving. “All that sensation. Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy trying it out. Unless you didn’t, in which case what a shame, but we aren’t all cut out for experiences quite that new.” As if he had been? But in the end Fiach had found enjoyment, a new thoughtful outlook on certain things, and now everything was back to normal and things could maintain as they had. He opened his eyes halfway to look at her, the way she looked toward the sun, how her hair gleamed in the light of it. “If nothing else, you seem to have the right idea for what to do with what you did experience. And thank you. I’ll endeavor to be less of a dick in the future.”
That, of course, was a lie.
“There is a point to it though,” she muttered almost quietly, perhaps something had been hit with her as well. His stillness, her quiet. “...no one really wants to be alone when it comes down to it, even if we look for it in different ways.” She rubbed at the back of her neck, pensively. Unaccustomed to deeper conversations, when she had tried with Halis he looked at her as if she were crazy. Sarah had just figured fae wouldn’t---couldn’t understand it. “At least I hope there is some point to it, because if not that’s … just fucked up, isn’t it.” Rhetorical. True.
Her head lifted up, snorting. “Somehow, I doubt that Fiach. You are what you are…” a realization spread through her eyes, subtle, but there in the way they looked back, reflecting his black shape almost perfectly. “...and I just need to accept it, if I ever get into anything.” There was that if there, a bit of hope, maybe. She knew what to expect with him, really. Maybe. That was the nature of fae. She was starting to understand, maybe even starting to truly take it for what it was.
“...mmm, I don’t think I was ready for that kind of leap, heh.” She pulled a knee up, resting her chin upon it while her heel braced itself over the branch. Sarah let him watch her, she didn’t mind so much with a clear head. The sun was smoldering into the earth with a fiery embrace, the night sky melting over the light in a slow stain. “Maybe next time I’ll let you kiss me without flowers,” she smirked faintly, the wind running its fingers through her hair, gentle in their strokes. “The want to let go is there. It’s just a matter of trusting it. God,” she shut her eyes sighing. “You guys really are free.”
He smirked a little wider.
“Yes, well. A little adaptability never killed anyone, and I try my best. It’s kept me afloat in times of chaotic intrigue.” Though being a dick never went out of style and only occasionally hindered his survivability. It was true, though, that fae were static in their own way. Ultimately massive, uncharted forces of nature, wild and free and unstoppable, but they could never change that. It didn’t bother him, though the thought was an unusual one. It was what made humans so intriguing to him. Mortals could change so much about their lives, for how weak they truly were.
He shrugged at the idea of freedom and, so long as she wasn’t looking, let his eyes roam down her body. For all her joking and sarcasm, she’d brought up their little encounter on her own, with almost no prompting from him. How could he turn down the idea, now that it was out in the open air?
“It’s our nature to be free.” Fiach slid his legs flat against the branch, arching his back a little to stretch. “It’s easy to do, here, especially for mortals. Trust it. Let yourself go. In a time like this, when violence has been forbidden, you’re the furthest out of danger you could be anywhere.” Other times he might suggest warnings, but not here and now, when the truce held firm. “And we are, of course, very keen on helping you with your efforts.”
She snorted, uncaring if it was unbecoming or not. “I am sure most of you are very keen or at least extremely amused. It must be really funny to watch a mortal let go at a ball, or see them struggle with a new body, or watch them make lustful fools of themselves. Real funny.” There was that edge to her tone again, she couldn’t help it, opinionated since she was young. “I mean, yeah, everything remains free and the same for you, but most of us eventually--hopefully-- have to go back to our world, and we can never have that again. That freedom.” Her brows drew in sharply. “And that’s a trap, that’s a cage. That’s cruel to deny someone, or hell someone who feels trapped here--keeping them and letting--- just never mind. I tried explaining this once already.”
Sarah rubbed the back of her neck craning her chin up as she willed the tangent she was on to be swallowed, her throat worked like swallowing jagged glass, it hurt and was not settling well.
“I don’t want to be violent, that’s part of the problem. I don’t know what I want, do you know how fucking maddening that is?” She finally admitted to him, her brows drawn in sharp as she stared, tempest eyes hard, but emanating the underlying confusion “Do you know how maddening it is to go so much of your life thinking you know what you want, ready to go get it, working for it--then be thrust here and realize you haven’t a fucking clue? It’s… it’s shattering.” She turned to face him, straddling the branch with her legs on either side, her hands steadying herself as if she had done this hundreds of times before. “Then you think your goals are worthless because how couldn’t they be when you think, no, you know they aren’t even what you ever wanted? It’s crazy.” Blunt Sarah.
She stared at him a moment, his dark eyes, his birdlike features in all their beauty and unwavering change... she sighed. “Maybe we are the crazy ones,” was grumbled grumpily.
“It is,” he agreed, even knowing she was probably going to clamber back down the tree in a huff because of it. It was funny, and more than a little intriguing to boot. To the rest of her anger, he shrugged and gave her a careful look, a contrast to his easy grin. “I’m sure you have, and you may yet again, because I don’t entirely understand it. You mortals are remarkably complicated for creatures so simple, and that kind of complexity … ” isn’t really worth the trouble, he almost said, but paused instead. Humans didn’t take kindly to being dismissed so simply, which was why so many of his kind had trouble with any sort of relations. “ … it conflicts.” A suitable way to put it. More tactful, too.
Fiach tilted his head to the side when she went on, eyebrows just slightly raised. What did violence have to do with it? Other than that it seemed like the end result for some, when they were spited or denied … ah, then that was the issue. Lashing out when you had no idea what else to do. This would take some care, navigating a thornbush like this. He glanced up through the few remaining branches above, eyeing the sky through their leaves, considering.
“It’s possible. By my standards, certainly.” Honesty would probably go over better with Sarah than lies, though honesty had the downside of being insulting or damaging. “But the reverse holds true, too. We’re not sane by your standards. It’s a matter of perspective, as are most things.” He looked back down at her, at the way she was straddling the branch, and the corner of his grin quirked up a bit. “I think you have a tendency to overthink things, even if this is a bit out of your general range of experiences. What you wanted back there, in your world, is different from what you might want here, and they can be two entirely separate things. One doesn’t need to supplant the other.” A pause, a lingering look. “Unless you want it to. But there’s time to think about that, I think.”
“Talk about overthinking things,” she replied in the amount he said the word, but she was smiling faintly which was a good sign at least. “I think that’s the first bit of real honesty I’ve heard from you, which is a reprieve. Her eyes caught the twitch of his grin, and her brow rose sharply. “What?” She glanced down at herself, and snorted. “Really? You’re worse than a high school boy…”
She would have gone on, but she bit her inner cheek, a pensive sidelong look to him. “So, if I did this…” Liv’s words running through her head for the time, what did she want? How would she ever know if she never tried? Sarah placed her hands behind herself, gripping the branch firmly, leaning back so her hips pressed down onto the base of the tree branch, grinding her back teeth at the odd, yet not entirely uncomfortable sensation. Her body was stretched, her hair dangling in a sweeping motion behind her, and the fullness of breasts strained against her shirt.
It made butterflies take off in her stomach, but there was a small sense of ...not power exactly, not control, but perhaps empowerment in the action.
It was an experiment, in a way. Yes. To make sure it wasn’t flowers.
“Is this distracting, Fiach?”
Oh, how things had changed. And here he thought this would just be quiet, if argumentative, conversation, maybe ending in something similar once they’d climbed out of the tree. But apparently she was willing to humor him while they were up here, or possibly she really was interested, or just wanted to see what he’d do. But the reason hardly mattered. He could twist that to his will, and forget any parts of this conversation that had gone places he’d shut away centuries ago.
His grin widened and this time the look was outright raking down her - no longer catching her when she looked away, or just a casual glance of admiration. If she wanted to show off, wanted to turn his head, then he would never deny her.
“In all the best ways,” he said, almost cheerfully, then toned his voice down into something rougher, more of his kind. “Though it’d be much more distracting if you were doing it sprawled and disheveled on a bed. At my hands, if the thought appeals.” There was a moment’s flash of white teeth in his grin, feral and promising, smoothed over into the familiar promising grin in an instant.
She laughed at his reaction, the cheerful sound of his voice, a genuine chortle that escaped her, her hand covering her mouth as her shoulders shook, the right corner of her mouth turned up in a smile, settling slowly. “You’re worse than a teenage boy, you really are. I don’t know if you’d survive the real world, let alone college cheerleaders. Or if the world could survive you..” It was said good naturedly. her eyes roaming his face. He seemed a bit in better spirits, she wasn’t sure why, or why she was even concerned with it but to see him a bit more at ease made her feel better as well.
“I don’t know if I could handle myself disheveled on your bed,” at least she didn’t spurn him. “You’d probably be disappointed. Inexperience can do that.” She straightened, swinging her legs back over the branch, her eyes turning toward the horizon. “It’s getting dark. I need to find somewhere to sleep.” Sarah glanced to him. “...thanks, you know.”
She began to climb down, bare foot and strong legs. “...for letting me do that, and not some stupid flower.”
Fiach watched her shift, go back to normal, start climbing down the branches of the tree. He never stopped grinning, still watching her as intensely as he had been even if she was as casual as ever now, because very little could dissuade him when he’d set his course. She hadn’t gotten flustered, hadn’t told him off, hadn’t immediately fled down to the ground to something that could relatively be called safety. He leaned forward as she started down, arms on his knees, eyes gleaming with both the light of the sunset and something darker.
“Inexperience is a bonus, not a detriment.” It meant he was the benchmark. Other fae might try their hand, even other humans, but his skill set the bar so high it would never be reached again … except by him. (Or so his arrogance proclaimed.) “And you’d hardly have to worry about handling yourself.” He paused a moment, resting his chin on the heel of his hand. “I can let you do far more than just that, Sarah.”
The cheer was gone from his voice, melted into something that promised and intended and seduced. Of course if she ran, he would wait to pursue later, when she’d had time to think, but the longer she hesitated, the closer he was going to get.
Her head rose, chin tilting up to look at him, there was that faint smile there still. “Fiach, you’d have to catch me first.” A challenge if anything, but it wasn’t flat out running away it had become something of a game, and she couldn’t deny the race in her heart.. Her barefeet clung to the branches, slipping over the arms of the tree with a chuckle. “I am sure someone like a shadow can?” She shrugged faintly and hopped down, grabbing her shoes in either hand.
The seduction was clear in his voice, and it surprised her that it could thrill her a little even if she dare not admit it aloud. It wasn’t some stupid flower, it wasn’t some stupid spell.
“Come on! You have legs for a reason!” She called over her shoulder in challenge as she took off, barefeet on the earth and hair flying. It reminded her a moment of times before everything changed her, playing in the woods, the things that made her feel free. She dropped the shoes, laughing as she ran swiftly, but still mortal, fast was not as fast as this world could be.
Sarah just needed to try and let go.
There were days when he won and days when he didn’t. Sometimes the smoldering sexuality just didn’t quite suit the situation, and Sarah made it clear that she wasn’t going to fall into his grasp … at least, not yet. Fiach raised his eyebrows at her as she hit the ground and took off running, leaning to watch her, the smolder turning into a smirk, the domineering shadow dropping from his shoulders.
Of course he had legs. But why use legs when wings were a better option?
In one smooth movement he stood and braced a hand against the trunk of the tree, then simply - fell forward. But before the branches could break him a hundred times before he hit the ground, his body split into a flock of birds - a murder, to use the proper term, or an unkindness, though these birds were perhaps too small to fit that particular bill. In a flurry of whipping wings they flew through the trees, above the highest branches, over the grass and dirt and cobbles to pass Sarah until they could come back together in a swirl of shadows a little distance ahead of her. Each one was a clean black, reflecting the golds of the setting sun, or the green-gold of the light passing through the trees.
And then they were the figure of a man again, a few shed feathers still fluttering to the ground, directly in her way with an arm out to catch her around the waist if she allowed it. Fiach grinned and almost laughed.
“All the work to climb up to the top and you just run back down? Is that normal, for mortals?” Strictly speaking, yes, probably, but he was too amused to try and be really manipulatively overbearing right now.
The sight of birds over head nearly made Sarah stop in her tracks they were like streaks metallic ink, reflecting the light as brilliant as gemstones flickering beneath fire. They fell together melting as shadows do, Fiach’s strong arm catching her by the waist which yes, she allowed, shaking her head and still laughing. The sight had been strange, but there was a beauty in seeing powers used for something other than carnal activities. She was having fun, and laughing still.
“That was cheating!” She declared. “Totally cheating, I said legs. So, guess what shadow lord, I win.” She crinkled her nose up at him a brow raising at his question. “Since when have I ever struck you as normal? I thought you were more perceptive than that.”
Her full cheeks were pulled up her cheeky smile as the golds and reds of the sunset settled over her face, her shoulders shrugging ever so slightly. “I used to go running all the time as a kid, race...climb trees just to see how quickly I could get up and down, I dunno… I wanted to do that again. Something tells me it wasn’t magic either.” Sarah didn’t mind the feeling of an arm on her waist, content and heavy. It was a security she was unused to, but it didn’t mean it was unwelcome.
“Oh my God, what is that?” She declared, her brows drawing in sharp, and her lower lip jut out incredulously. “Is that… is that an actual smile?” Her hands reached up to cup his face, studying him. “Holy shit, I think it’s spreading, clearly contagious.” Sarah teased, she was smiling too, genuinely for the first time since she came here, it was more than a brief tug of amusement. There was something endearing about seeing it on the face of such a serious looking creature; not that she had any room to talk. “And what’s this? I think there may be a laugh stuck somewhere too.”
The warm rumble of a chuckle left her chest, eyes raising to meet his, the corners of her mouth softening somewhat as she studied his face, her thumb brushing over his cheekbone, contemplatively reverent.
“It’s not cheating. It’s using natural strength and abilities to my advantage.” Humans, really. Always with those accusations. Even if hers were said laughing, smiling, warm and comfortably pressed against him … he was used to them. Every one of their kind had the sort lobbed at them from time to time, so better in good humor than in anger. Fear had its own perks. But that had no place here and now.
He brought up his other hand to catch hers as it brushed his face and held it there, turning his own head, ghosting lips along her palm and down to her wrist. So very alive. So very human. He could feel the pulse of her heart at the veins in her wrist. For someone who dwelled constantly, in little ways, in the constant sleeping death of the world, it was always significant to have something as real and brief as a mortal in his hands. Even after hundreds and hundreds of years and equal hundreds of encounters, it never got old.
Fiach sighed against her arm, breath dry and cool as it ever was, and let her hand go. His grin was a little more faint now. He was still wondering if he would get a chance to finish their last encounter, since, after all, she hadn’t yet tried to shove him away and storm off.
“Your kind are always a surprise.” Maybe a little distant and arrogant. But some things were hard to shed, even when he was so used to disguising fae nature. “Midsummer comes and I’m expecting a handful of wide-eyed wanderers, and instead you’re trying to outrun me outdoors.” And laughing when you fail. “Normal is a term I can really only apply to my own kind, so that’s not precisely a standard I’d use to judge you by. Thus why I asked.” His arm pulled her closer, testing. Did she still have a distance she wanted to keep?
Sarah didn’t pull away, not this time. It was on her own terms, no magic, no haze. She listened to him canting her head to one side. “It’s kind of funny, how abnormal and different we find one another, and what we are….but to each other what we do is completely normal.” His lips were a feather touch on her skin, fascinating in how light they were, pulses beating in time, the autumn breath of his lungs caressing.
“Outrun you, maybe even play, because you have a smile like a fall moon.” She admitted quietly. “It reminds me of a Halloween as a kid. I was dressed up as a silent film star, I was a weird kid. I painted my lips black and my skin white. They forgot me that night, my dad and step mom. I waited forever for them to get home and take me ..but I ended up sitting outside in my tree, watching the moon. It was low in the sky, a bright, chesire grin.” Sarah shrugged ever so slightly and his arm that had caught her pulled her in close, she felt that panic rise.
That fear of intimacy--how much people could let you down. She wanted to say she was scared, she didn’t want to be hurt, but would a fae even understand such things? The wind tousled her unburnished locks and she took a breath.
Cupping his face again with that gentleness she didn’t know she had she brought his face down, and her lips fell against his, to kiss someone not under the influence of a mask or flower--was wonderful. It made her heart rate surge, thundering, but the warm melting caught her and pulled her in, moving her lips against him in a flutter, feeling a cool breath between them as mouths parted, hers hovering near, brows knit. I feel naked. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and she felt at any moment her guard would need to be up, spiked and angry--but she stood still, allowing the feeling to be submerged for just a moment, finger tips curling in the velvet of his black hair.
Don’t hurt me, she wanted to say. Don’t use this against me, just let it be. She didn’t know what to expect, but she waited with baited breath.