[ Hm. There it is. His smile widens. Yeah. He recalls that, too. Her, complaining about the wine. Him, drinking it anyhow because it was shit but better than the ale, which was no better than wyvern piss.
He guides her fingers over the scar. It overlaps with another, a single talon that caught him unawares. Not serious enough to find a healer—so he'd sewn it together in the woods and, on a whim, went to search for her. Back then, it was often a whim, a sudden urge that would grip him and before he knew it, he was turning around, riding a little further north or south than he intended. Asking after a dark-haired sorceress in town.
A heart guided by the djinn's magic, he used to tell himself each time they parted. What else could it be? (Why else would she leave?) ]
How long did we last? Two weeks?
[ Long, for them. A rare moment in their lives when he would wake up and she would still be there—or he would. Until she wasn't. He can't remember anymore what drove them apart. Any number of things, he supposes. Another argument, a simple desire to move on, a mutual realization they could not be that together.
Those are no longer questions on his mind.
He loosens the laces of her dress. His palm lays flat against the small of her back, and he lets his thumb press against a bump along her spine. She's warm. He leans down, kisses her again at last. ]
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He guides her fingers over the scar. It overlaps with another, a single talon that caught him unawares. Not serious enough to find a healer—so he'd sewn it together in the woods and, on a whim, went to search for her. Back then, it was often a whim, a sudden urge that would grip him and before he knew it, he was turning around, riding a little further north or south than he intended. Asking after a dark-haired sorceress in town.
A heart guided by the djinn's magic, he used to tell himself each time they parted. What else could it be? (Why else would she leave?) ]
How long did we last? Two weeks?
[ Long, for them. A rare moment in their lives when he would wake up and she would still be there—or he would. Until she wasn't. He can't remember anymore what drove them apart. Any number of things, he supposes. Another argument, a simple desire to move on, a mutual realization they could not be that together.
Those are no longer questions on his mind.
He loosens the laces of her dress. His palm lays flat against the small of her back, and he lets his thumb press against a bump along her spine. She's warm. He leans down, kisses her again at last. ]