Water to the Parched [Vanator]

[Sybel]

His gaping stare gratified her in ways he couldn’t imagine. The game they played had engulfed her utterly, and Sybel chose to throw her reservations to the wind. As she approached he appeared almost as a mouse, caught in the gaze of a gleaming-eyed snake. The feeling thrilled through her veins. When she stopped, despite how close she was he managed to regroup. "Lets get away from these lights, so we can enjoy the moonlight." His smile swept her up, took her away. Sudden anxiety took hold; she realized they were going off. Alone. There would be no safety net, no random onlookers holding their behavior in check.

The dry swallow stuck in her throat. He took her hand, sending her furious heart into overdrive. They were acting like a couple of teenagers and for some reason, that fact did not bother her at all. The freedom to act like children, willful and wild. It was part of his allure. Biting her lip to stifle a nervous titter, she instead nodded. Nodding was safe. Vanator’s hand was warm and rough, his long fingers trembling slightly as they curled around hers. Taking it a step further she interlaced their two hands, making the bond far more personal. Her thumb caressed his knuckle affectionately - half nerves and half bravado.

"I hope you enjoy my fetching aroma, a friend of mine gave me a generous splash of a new cologne earlier this evening," he mentioned conversationally. The arch look returned, and Sybel’s laughter came freely. “A good friend, no doubt,” she qualified. “You smell like a campfire but…” The sentence trailed off as she groped for the words. “Better. The aroma of wood smoke and beer. It’s quite attractive.” The abrupt honesty shook her. The Benshira’s composure began to flag, hands shaking. “Like you.” Her smile became diffident, and unable to meet his gaze she turned away. Despite the show of confidence, she was failing.

As they walked she allowed him to lead, suddenly quiet. Being timid was not her primary feature. Sybel knew she must seem coy. “I’m sorry,” she apologized suddenly, conveying her sheepishness. “I’m all over the place.” Her eyes turned to inspect the dirt road. But never once did her hand falter, laced with his. Where he went, she’d go. No question. That night she was all his.

“So, tell me about yourself.” It would be a good idea to get a picture of how he spent his time. “I’ve seen you at the Trough but not often otherwise.” Her remark was meant to lead the conversation toward him. Until that point the spotlight had been on her. The attention was not unwelcome given the source, but she too had burning curiosity. Sybel’s mind screamed to ask about the wives she knew he must have… It was killing her. But she’d already resolved to avoid that particular topic. If he were interested, it would come up at some point. That much was certain. “Other than getting bathed in ale, what other pursuits catch your fancy?” Her grin returned in force.

[Vanator]

OOCCongratulations on Featured Character of the Month...well deserved!

The world around them could have been burning in a fiery conflagration and Vanator would have been oblivious. There was nothing of significance at the moment beyond the woman strolling next to him. Great attention was given simply to the slender hand he grasped, feminine fingers entwined with his, and the gentle caress of a slight thumb against his knuckles. The contact was both electrifying and comfortable, as if it belonged there.

"...the aroma of wood smoke and beer. It’s quite attractive...Like you.”

Van didn't shy away at her forward compliment, his eyes not leaving Sybel as she averted her gaze. He was not sure about Benshiran men, but Drykas, at least Vanator, found such boldness attractive. If Sybel's azure glance had met his, she would have seen the ignition of excitement her confession had produced. She surely felt the subtle squeeze of his hand and the brush of his thumb against hers.

A turn down a side alley took them through the encampments of the Opal clan, Vanator navigating the pavilions to keep a distance from any one or any thing that may distract them. He did not mind walking in silence with Sybel, stolen glances and the sweet embrace of her hand maintaining the thrill even without the sound of her low, sultry voice. But when the Benshiran accent lifted again with new inquiries, Vanator was happy to converse.

“So, tell me about yourself...Other than getting bathed in ale, what other pursuits catch your fancy?”

"Well, for starters, my favorite beverage is actually mead. The kind made with hops, not that fruity stuff brought in from Riverfall." He grinned and winked. "I am the first son of the ankal of our pavilion, by his first wife." There was an undertone of pride, but not boasting, in his tone. " I have not spent a lot of time in Endrykas the past few years though, my stays are pretty short. I like to travel the grass. Last year I went to Zindal Bay, just to see the ocean, I saw my first sailing ship there. I also like to visit the watchtowers, they are fascinating to me". He tugged gently on Sybel's hand to lead her between to tents, emerging into the expanse of ground before the posts that indicate the perimeter of Endrykas and the first of many rings of web woven around the town.

Past the settlements, only the light of the moon lit their way. Van guided his lovely companion just beyond the posts. He turned to Sybel, her appearance soft and muted in the pale light, yet her clear blue eyes seemed to retain their full brilliant hue.

"I have to confess, tonight, I find myself fancying the pursuit of something far more desirable." His strong white teeth almost glowed as his smile widened. With another tender nudge, the Drykas guided the woman to the ground, until the two of them were sitting close together on the grass. Without hesitation, Vanator shifted until he was brushing against her, still holding her hand. He looked out over the moonlit plains, inhaling the rich aroma of the grasslands, but even their beauty could not distract the horseman from Sybel for long. Dark eyes sought again to fix upon her light gaze, his craving appeased when they finally locked.

"And what do you do to pass your time when you are not handing out beer baths?"

[Sybel]

The receptive response of his gentle hand enhanced the knot in her throat. The night was electric, gusts of breath roaring in her ears as she struggled to contain herself. They moved well in unison, their heights and stride a perfect complement. Everything about the feeling of connection between them seemed right. They moved between grid-like tents, giving the populated areas wide berth. By the way Vanator moved he was obviously secure with himself. His well-developed shoulders were relaxed yet firm; his approach was direct. Almost in admiration she observed him, eyes shamelessly drinking it in. More and more she threw caution to the wind.

After she’d managed the courage for more conversation, he happily obliged. "Well, for starters, my favorite beverage is actually mead. The kind made with hops, not that fruity stuff brought in from Riverfall." Her laughter rang out and his sly wink only contributed to the gleeful noise. "I am the first son of the ankal of our pavilion, by his first wife." His face held a degree of satisfaction. “I have not spent a lot of time in Endrykas the past few years though, my stays are pretty short. I like to travel the grass. Last year I went to Zindal Bay, just to see the ocean, I saw my first sailing ship there. I also like to visit the watchtowers, they are fascinating to me."

His answer piqued her curiosity. “Well, I’m with you on the ale in Riverfall. I prefer a stout brew myself.” Grinning back at the agile Drykas, she continued. “Your boldness is astounding. I’ve only once ventured into the grass. It was a tense journey, needless to say.” The remembrance only served to put a foul taste in her mouth. “I have a strong sword arm, but when pitted against a pack of Glassbeak…” Her sentence trailed off, leaving him free to fill in the blanks. "The Watchtowers are an incredible sight." The remark seemed out of place. With a light pull, he guided her. His decisiveness sent blood pooling in a more intimate part of her form. Flushed, she began analyzing the blades of grass they treaded on. When adequately away from it all, they finally stopped in open space just past the customary posts, kissed gently by moonlight.

"I have to confess, tonight, I find myself fancying the pursuit of something far more desirable." His words stirred the Benshira further - especially as their eyes locked. The words piled up in her throat, unable to break free. Vanator lowered them both to the ground, never looking away. He lie against her, their grasp still secure in its embrace. The contact sent her simmering. He was warm and his fragrance was potent now that their bodies pressed together. “And what do you do to pass your time when you are not handing out beer baths?"

Lightly chuckling, she endeavored to reply. “Travel…” Her words seemed incredibly moot, but the answer came nonetheless. “I’m a traveling merchant, though I’ve run out of wares to sell. I aspire to hunt relics perhaps...” Her lucid gaze held his steadily now. “I have to admit, I think we share a common goal.” Transfixed and unwavering, she moved in closer.
“I’ve never met a more valuable prize.”

[Vanator]

“I’ve never met a more valuable prize.”

Vanator found his senses swimming. Sybel had proven more potent than any ale, the Drykas' intoxication increasing with every chime he spent with the beautiful Benshiran. There was an intensity to the flirtation, carrying more depth and sincerity than Van had experienced since he courted Tamar.

The Denusk's masculinity too responded powerfully to the sultry and sardonic foreigner, stirring desire that he kept at a simmer. Something about Sybel compelled the man to pace his endevours. Everything about her indicated she was indeed a treasure to be examined and enjoyed with patient care.

Van lit a small smile of agreement. The man and woman, in personality and preference, seemed to mesh like the cogs of two gears, one large and strong, the other, agile and fine. All the while, the trader kept his gaze captive, and as she moved closer, impulse was given its liberty, and Vanator drew nigh to her as well. Head tilting slightly, he held firm to the woman's pale blue eyes until his lids closed over his own, a tick before his lips brushed lightly against Sybel's plush mouth.

Heat seemed to flush through his blood vessels as the kiss lingered a moment, the thrum of his pulse quickening at the sweet press of Sybel's full lips. Vanator's sensibility yanked on his reins, and the Drykas withdrew, but did not go far. Dark eyes returned to her moonlit features, seeking her repsonse, his own countenance displaying great satisfaction with their first kiss, before steering them back to the conversation.

A slight breeze kicked up, tugging lightly at the companions' manes."Traveling merchant? I imagine you have seen some grand sights yourself. And if you have survived meeting glassbeaks, you are among a minority. That is a tale I would love to hear."

[Sybel]

He seemed to feel the same yearning as she, his face drawing near. Van’s warm gaze lit up the night, lips curving into a crescent. An unspoken agreement coursed through their linked stare, the intent becoming clear as he moved in closer. Anticipation boiled over as his gentle lids closed and he pressed his lips against hers. The contact of their open flush sent her instincts into overdrive. Sybel’s hand drew him in, laying flat against his well-muscled shoulder. Her lips moved against his in a slow burn; at first the kiss was sweet, their movement slow. But after just a few seconds of contact, her passion began overriding her restraint. The Drykas’ body shifted, beginning to pull away. As they disentangled, her teeth caught his bottom lip seductively before allowing him to break free.

A plaintive noise emitted from within her chest, clearly yearning for more. He seemed happy, still enraptured from the heart-pounding interaction. Almost defiant the urge to throw herself atop him and have done with it entered her thoughts. But as an errant fly, she shooed the idea away, somehow finding the strength to contain herself. He gave her strength and yet stole her strength. Perhaps that was how it was supposed to feel, her mind supposed. It…? Ignoring the implication that vague article could represent, she turned the internal focus back outward.

"Traveling merchant?” He repeated, obviously attempting to reinitiate conversation. “I imagine you have seen some grand sights yourself. And if you have survived meeting glassbeaks, you are among a minority. That is a tale I would love to hear." Smiling, she grasped at the memory. It’d been a few years since she’d traveled to the city of Endrykas, after all. “I was traveling through the grass on my way to Riverfall,” her voice was still laced with adrenaline, “when they came upon me. I ran, and they gave chase. Lucky for me, I came upon an Akalak raiding party who gladly obliged. If it wasn’t for being human, I might even be a Navikak.” The implication was horrifying.

“I remember being terrified,” she continued. “I thought I’d jumped from the proverbial frying pan into the fire. But instead they took me back to the city, where I repaid them with a season of labor. Once I was free, I came here.” The story concluded itself neatly. “Where,” her expression the very picture of amusement, “I happened upon an Ankal’s son, who clearly learned to kiss from Nikali herself.” Teasingly, she shook her head. “Though that is a secret he seemed reluctant to share.”

Biting her lip, she issued the man a challenging look. “You could keep teaching me Pavi.”

[Vanator]

Vanator's navigation from the steamy kiss to the more mundane conversation was a herculean task in and of itself, given the passion Sybel poured into the embrace of their mouths. The Dyrkas' bottom lip still tingled from the press of her teeth and he could not help but subtly run his tongue over it. Only a bell or so ago they had met, yet, though they truly knew little of each other, the ease and intimacy of their interaction felt as if they had been smoldering for a season. But it did not alarm Vanator. What surprised the man more was that, in spite of the obvious fiery desire for one another, they weren't flattening the grass already. This was not typical, and it proved to the horseman all the more that, with Sybel, patience would have its own reward.

With stalwart grasp of his composure, Van continued. "I would dare say you would not have outrun the glassbeaks for long. Whatever deity you honor must have truly favored you, not only for saving you from the glassbeaks, but from the Akalaks as well. For a beautiful young woman like you to be required to repay the Akalaks with nothing more than labor is unusual. As nakivak you could have spawned a lovely little blue baby."

Vanator grinned before addressing the latter of the Benshiran's comments,, her mind seeming to run parallel with with his own, as they both lingered on the pleasure of that first kiss. He nodded in response to her suggestion.

"Very well then, Pavi it is..." Eyes darted down towards Sybel's crimson lips before meeting her pale blue gaze again. Vanator offered a phrase in his native tongue, the glint in his eye and stretch of his smile belying its randy nature. Vanator leaned in again, until his mouth was nearly touching hers, their warm breath mingling and heating their skin. Then the Drykas translated in a hushed tone, his lips brushing against the woman's ever so slightly. "That means 'I wish to taste you again.'"

His lips pressed against hers again. Van's hand slipped free of Sybel's, joining the other as they lifted to rest gently on either side of her golden face, the tips of his fingers slipping into her thick chestnut mane, his thumbs caressing her cheekbones. Subtle movement heightened the excitement as soft lips slid across each other, until Vanator parted his slightly, allowing the tip of his tongue to run across her lips. Retreating only far enough to look again into her eyes, he recalled her snarky comment...“I happened upon an Ankal’s son, who clearly learned to kiss from Nikali herself...though that is a secret he seemed reluctant to share.” Vanator added, "The ankal's son is willing to share his secret with the clever Benshiran merchant girl."

[Sybel]

He seemed somewhat impressed. "I would dare say you would not have outrun the glassbeaks for long.” Oh that was certainly true. The timely intervention literally occurred at the last second, if her recollection proved true. “Whatever deity you honor must have truly favored you, not only for saving you from the glassbeaks, but from the Akalaks as well. For a beautiful young woman like you to be required to repay the Akalaks with nothing more than labor is unusual. As nakivak you could have spawned a lovely little blue baby."

“Well,” Sybel gave a nervous little cough. “You have the right of it… You see when they came upon me, I was so covered in filth that they didn’t realize I was a woman.” A sighing giggle came from her lips, like the babbling of a stream. “Most of my endowment,” she explained, her eyes indicating her supple chest, “came sort of late for me. I’ve been rather flat chested all my life. I used to curse Yahal for it… Now I have to say, I’m grateful.” The laughter continued, like a little interlude to each sentence. “By the time we got back to Riverfall, they’d already declared how I was to repay them. One of them even said: ‘She hid her breasts under a pile of dung!’” Shaking her head at the thought, her lips slid into a more muted grin.

“I’ve always been too clever for my own good.” Her voice trailed off, noting the shifting intent in his eyes. "Very well then, Pavi it is..." Vanator’s eyes ran the length of her lips before darting back to meet hers. The cadence of his native tongue had her entranced, and his facial expression telegraphed its obviously inappropriate meaning. Little more than a whisper, he breathed: "That means 'I wish to taste you again.'" The woman literally melted. That pooling in her more intimate areas became nearly unbearable, an anguished throbbing that screamed for release. Both his hands cradled her face, caressed her cheeks…

Sybel had never felt more seduced. Nortmally her resistance toward that sort of thing was abnormally high. But the attraction was like the rocking of the earth. It brought them together with irresistible force. His tongue moved across her top lip, tasting… Perhaps seeking entrance and yet withdrawing. It was almost too much, too delicious… "The ankal's son is willing to share his secret with the clever Benshiran merchant girl," he breathed, just a fraction of an inch away from her upturned mouth.

“You’re my god.” Sybel said in shiber, clearly reaching into her own bag of tricks. The Benshira language was not quite as fluid as Pavi. It was a slower and more rolling mode of speech. The subtle accent she normally spoke with was framed nicely in her native tongue. Sybel's azure eyes looked upon him seriously as she spoke. “My heathen idol. In the world of mortal men, I’ll worship none other than you.” As soon as the little speech concluded, her tiny laugh sent wisps of breath ghosting across his features.

“Someday,” she said in common, “I will tell you what that means.” Her lips claimed his now, beseeching… Her tongue slid across his bottom, clearly mimicking his action. Again she bit at his bottom lip before letting go and planting another kiss. If their tongues began to work in tandem, the desert woman knew herself well enough… It would lead to a place she was not ready to go. Vanator was too special. What she’d said in shiber was absolutely true. Sybel realized that from that moment on, she’d travel the length and breadth of Mizahar and never find another man like him. Not one so specially designed, so perfect.

When she withdrew, one hand lovingly brushed the hair from his face. The gesture was so intimate, and yet it seemed to right. “Tell me about your dreams if you wish. Tell me about the grass you travel, about Zindal Bay. You can tell me anything, Vanator.” That she truly meant.

[Vanator]

Akalak could not tell she was a woman? "I’ve been rather flat chested all my life. I used to curse Yahal for it… Now I have to say, I’m grateful.” Vanator could not restrain his laughter at the absurdity of Sybel's claim. As his eyes again examined the length and breath of the woman, noting generosity of curve and the swell of her cleavage, he had to believe her tale of a less buxom youth. "Still...my opinion of the Akalaks' intelligence has been shaken after hearing your tale." He laughed again, finding his gratitude in the fact that the Riverians did not retain Bel as one of their contracted breeding women.

The Benshiran responded to his kiss with exhilarating ardor, and as he looked into her smoldering gaze, Vanator relished still the sensation of his tongue on her lips. Then, to his delight, the girl began to speak in her own tongue. Shiber did not flow like Pavi, but as it slid from her lips in a husky feminine voice, the exotic words set him on fire.

“Someday, I will tell you what that means.” The breathy promise was one Vanator would hold her to. Musings on the nature of her native phrasing was squelched by the hot press of their mouths again, this time driven by Sybel herself. She took her turn tasting the horse lord, the slick swipe of her tongue along his bottom lip nearly breaching his all too precarious control, and as she took his lip again between fine teeth, Vanator felt himself leaning further into her, the flood of desire beginning to cascade over the wall. They were not close enough for his want, he wanted closer, to envelope Sybel somehow, to experience her with every form of sense and perception available to mortal man.

Sybel's withdraw save Vanator from ruining something even more beautiful than what his body so desperately wanted. The cresting lust subsided just below the floodwall. As she tenderly brush the locks from his face, Van embraced the unspoken mutual intent between them, a postponement of the typical carnal union. Vanator discerned too that what had blossomed in such a short time was not intended to placate a man and woman for one night. The emotions Sybel conjured up within him encompassed so much more than physical desire, though that was as powerful as he had experienced with any woman. To say the Drykas was smitten with Sybel would be like saying a man dying of thirst enjoyed a sip of water. Vanator startled himself at the depth of adoration and affection he harbored for the Benshiran.

“Tell me about your dreams if you wish. Tell me about the grass you travel, about Zindal Bay. You can tell me anything, Vanator.”

Soft sincerity was revealed in Sybel's intoxicating gaze, and Vanator knew as he became more and more lost in her eyes, that he would tell her anything, wanted to tell her everything, wanted to share everything with the golden woman. But if he did, would she still care for him?

As he spoke, Vanator found he had been holding his breath. "I am Drykas, Sybel. I love my Strider as much as I love my family. I have known great joy, and devastating loss." His tone was laced with bravado. Vanator was the son of an ankal, and the pride of his people was something he felt deeply. Hearing himself, Van tempered his voice until it returned to the familiar, casual tone. "My dreams? I am divided in what I wish for. I wish to make my father proud. To find another wife, to bear a son, to take his place someday and fill his boots as well as he." His eyes drifted out to the endless sea of waving grass, illuminated in Leth's silvery light. "And sometimes I want to stay out in the grass, away from responsibility and duty, to live a life all my own, to fall in love again and to be my own man." He turned to look at Sybel again, a nervous laugh slipping from his throat. "But that is not the Drykas way, and I am ashamed to want it." His own honesty caught Van off guard, so willing to share with the attentive ears of the desert beauty.

[Sybel]

At the mention of her previously scrawny shape, Vanator’s eyes hungrily traced the woman’s curves. It ignited her further, which was becoming a regular occurrence between the two of them. Seeming incredulous, he laughed. "Still...my opinion of the Akalaks' intelligence has been shaken after hearing your tale." Well of course once she’d drank enough beer and put on real muscle, breasts sort of grew into the picture. The Benshira kept a very lean diet, having no arable land to grow produce and very little alcohol to speak of. Once Sybel had been properly exposed to the outside world she filled out and grew into herself, so to speak. Still, his disbelief was gratifying - much like everything else about him.

He reacted well to the foreign soliloquy, held captive by her words. It all contributed to the longing she wrestled with. It was as if a world that had been only half alight became blinding, illuminated utterly by his presence. The sensations she experienced with Vanator overwhelmed her. It was only the self-taught discipline she found so necessary that kept a tentative handle on the situation. Otherwise her undergarments would have been long lost, thrown into the face of random passerby when she found him grinning outside of the Trough.

His eyes held boundless endearment as her fingertips brushed away the errant lock. Yes, he understood. They truly were the same, in so many ways. Yet different in appreciable facets that one day she hoped to explore. If he’d have her, she’d reconcile the rest of her hopes and dreams somehow. In those moments it was near impossible to devote rational thought to anything, really. The future was a blank slate, and all of her carefully laid plans began to unravel in the face of this new revelation.

“I am Drykas, Sybel. I love my Strider as much as I love my family. I have known great joy, and devastating loss." The remembrance of Kavala’s words reared its ugly head. She’d never be a first wife without bonding to a Strider. Willful, she rejected the idea immediately. Eplah was her strider. A Drykas steed was not a better steed - not to her. But it was an unkind thought toward an innocent man and she shooed it off. His tone was kind, proud, strong. The many qualities she was quickly coming to adore. "My dreams? I am divided in what I wish for. I wish to make my father proud. To find another wife, to bear a son, to take his place someday and fill his boots as well as he."

That was what she’d been warned about, she realized with a grimace. Yes, she knew it all too well. But his next sentence surprised her. His eyes trailed off to the scenery, clearly uncomfortable with the words. "And sometimes I want to stay out in the grass, away from responsibility and duty, to live a life all my own, to fall in love again and to be my own man." Sybel’s heart lifted somewhat. It was an honor for someone in his position to be so frank. Perhaps he truly did think highly of her despite all reason not to. "But that is not the Drykas way, and I am ashamed to want it." Even Vanator himself seemed taken aback at his direct response.

“I’ve found a person carries two burdens,” Sybel began. The response was one she’d given before, and it ebbed from her mouth like the gentle susurrus of the tides. “The burden of what they’re designed to be, and the burden of what life designs for them.” Yes, she’d had time to refine it… Think it over. “I was dealt two hands as well, but I took the latter knowing I could not live happily otherwise. My father was murdered, my mother died giving me life. Life had its designs. I can only say that you must walk the path that you find you cannot live without.”

Her smile was sad, the kiss of the moon framing all the hurt locked away in gentle bow of her lips. It made a beautiful, heartbreaking picture. Vanator looked so handsome, so vulnerable, she thought to herself. “I have nothing.” It echoed into the vast emptiness of the plains around them. For so long as Sybel had lived, love slipped between her fingers like Eyktol’s endless sands.

[Vanator]

Sybel spoke, her voice void of the sultriness it had possessed, now rich with sentiment and understanding. Vanator saw unvieled yet another aspect of the desert woman that garnered his admiration. She did not leverage his gambled revelations to her own advantage, instead, she offered the aid of a new perspective, and her own heartfelt pains.

It was a pain Vanator found himself sharing. Sybel too knew the hurt of a lost loved one. And like himself, the Benshiran still harbored unmended wounds. Sadness washed over the Drykas, tormented to see the face that glowed with a wide grin now set with the lines of sorrow. His hand slipped under hers, their fingers again weaving together.

“I have nothing.”

Carnal desire had made way for an overwhelming need to hold her close and make everything right again. He couldn't, of course, he barely new her really. But Vanator swore to himself he would do what he could if it meant wrestling a night lion to the ground by its mane. She had no family, and the thought pierced the Drykas heart like an arrow. Family was everything to the Drykas, to Vanator. To hear she was alone rent his soul.

"That is true...I am torn between my duty and my heart. But I have yet to make my choice, or forced to take a certain path. Sybel..." The man's tone was heavy with emotion. "I know some of what it means to lose someone you love. But I have always had family. I know this all may be crazy, what we feel here. I mean, we barely know each other...yet, we seem to know each other intimately. As long as you are in Endrykas, or tread the Grass, or beyond, you will always have something, a friend, and someone...me. It is my deepest desire to be much more than that." Vanator leaned in, this time pressing his lips to the sheen of her hair, then against the smooth skin of her cheek, before brushing them against her own soft lips. Not since Tamar had Vanator found someone like Sybel, someone he could see himself falling for. The truth was... he already had.

Releasing her hand, Vanator wrapped his powerful arm around Sybel's shoulders, gently coaxing her to lean against him. His head turned to nuzzle the aromatic hair at the crown of the Benshiran's head, relishing the warm press of her against him, wanting only to know her body, mind and soul.

Deep and pensive, Vanator's voice spoke in an almost hush, near the woman's ear."I hope, in spite of what you have endured, that you still possess your own dreams. What are they Sybel?"