[Priskil's Pond+] A Quick Dip (Private)

[Devmond Incarnata]

His heart thundered against the tree that felt apart of his own body. Devmond peered around the bark just as Nilkayn went past. His insides were on fire; even after the Akalak disappeared into the brush, it took a few minutes longer than it should have to quell the raging emotion. For the moment that stretched with time, he was afraid.

The woman had looked at him.

He had slowly crawled backward, escaping to take better cover. The plan had seemed flawless. He hadn’t made a sound. Yet, the woman had somehow pinpointed the location. Panicked, thoughts of running away again flirted with him. If he left and fled, who would say anything against his character? It seemed so convenient. Then the nervous sweat started to irritate his wounds...itch, itch...He let go. A cry that hung in the air and then disappeared like smoke from a candle.

Smiling cornered with sweat that was both sweet and bitter, he walked slowly to the woman’s camp. She must have heard his own song. It had been completely intentional, of course. His body had been so unwilling that it needed to be convinced. Now, knowing that she may be a little frightened, he felt on equal grounds again. It wasn’t like him to let another surprise.

He moved carefully and quietly, making sure that he would appear at least thirty feet away from where he may have been spotted. It would be best: 1) to not get mixed up with how he did not run into Nilkayn, and 2) to not let her think she had been right in sensing him.

“Hello? Is anyone there? I need a healer, please. Help me!” he called out making his voice sounds as pathetic as a wounded animal.

Now to get in character (which wasn’t hard since he had injured himself more painfully then he would admit): head down, feet shuffling, body swaying a little, gasping breath, and let the eyes water. Limping, he walked towards the center of the clearing. Making sure not to look directly at her, he instead focused on her feet. Coming as close as he dared, he threw himself on his knees.

From this position, Devmond lifted his head only a little. It had meant to be a pitiful gesture. Now, he had a very nice view of her legs. There were really only two things, that were not related in the slightest, going through his head at this point of the ‘plan’.

Her legs are even sexier up close, I wonder how those scales feel to the touch...

Maybe I’ve underestimated her, she had basil in her pouch, is basil poisonous..

[Erato]

A look of appalled surprise fell flatly on Erato’s face at the sight of Devmond. Admittedly, a small part of her had expected and even began to hope for his return, but she had not quite imagined it happening like that. She remained still even after the dark man cried for help, immediately wishing that Nilkayn hadn’t left. True, he had left his things and would no doubt be returning soon, but this sudden appearance of the mysterious Devmond quickened the already timid pulse of her heart. Was he only an innocent and injured soul as he appeared to be, or was there something more to the stronger tingling in her scales?

It put the startled konti in quite a dilemma. She recognized that the odd sensation in her scales was not the same feeling she received when faced with physical danger. It was difficult to describe the difference, quite like trying to differentiate between light gray and white. More immediate and obvious danger was almost painful, a sharp sensation that pricked at the scales above her eye and made her wince. This generally happened when she stood near the edge of a cliff or approached a startled snake in the grass. She had never been near any manner of incredible danger, but there was always that threat, the possibility of pain that irritated her scales and nerves when she came too close.

To some extent, it could be controlled. Like a slight temperature change, Erato could be accustomed enough to the small sensations that she almost could forget them. It was generally only in the case of very close threats that she could feel something enough to distract, but that was only one aspect of her gift. To only sense physical danger was one thing, but she had a strong suspicion that she had a sense of dangerous intents as well. Perhaps it wasn’t always intentional, but threats were ever present. The closer one became to another, the deeper the trust, the greater number of secrets shared—one moment of betrayal in that could inflict an incredible amount of pain. Thus, the more Erato came to trust another, the stronger her sense grew that something could go wrong.

And it was a rather different sensation. The feeling she had near her mother and her sister wasn’t what she would call sharp or even obvious. Sometimes it was even a strangely pleasant sensation, a slight tickling of the scales, particularly those above her left eye. It only became more present when she was emotionally aroused or inclined to share something personally important, particularly the time when she had spoken to her mother of leaving Konti Isle. It wasn’t easy for Erato to share pain because she feared it might breed more: feelings can be rejected, intents misunderstood; the pain of disappointing a loved one is never enjoyable.

Those were her warnings, the compass that guided her away from danger and into solitude. She found the presence of physical danger irritating and preferred to look after the sick, whose delicate and often short lived bonds of friendship brought more pleasant sensations and thoughts. Yet Erato was always careful to avoid whatever long term relationships she could. It was enough, she felt, to take counsel from her mother and tolerate the shadow of her sister, who had already given birth and lived in the pride of their mother. If she started making closer bonds to others, she worried that her ‘sense’ would never be at rest, and that even the slight pleasant nature of danger could easily turn to deeper pain. It was already difficult enough to feel that sharper irritation when her mother visited with further stories of Erato’s sister and her accomplishments.

In the case of Devmond (who didn’t appear to be in any shape to offer even the pretense of a threat), Erato could feel only that slight tingling, which had led her to look towards the forest not a moment ago. She blamed it immediately on her own curiosity towards the man, who was in every way a mystery to her. How had he been so nonchalant before? How had he been injured? How had he found her again? And why… why did he guess her to be a healer? Was her experience so obvious, or was she simply the only source of help for this lone man in the wilderness?

A few lines of chastisement and inquiries quickly began to rise in Erato’s throat, but none were voiced. Her lips had barely begun to form the first lines when her eyes went to his, and then she could say nothing. He simply looked so pitiful, like a young child who had been stung by a bee and believed the painful poison to be the end of his life. Devmond had not only been injured, it seemed, but frightened and broken as well. Erato had formerly thought him to be rather cocky (he had, after all, approached a mighty Akalak quite alone in the wilderness with no sense of fear or respect whatsoever), but he had either learned his lesson or had let his guard down to receive needed help.

“That looks serious.” Erato gently set the lyre down behind her, leaning forward to inspect the wounds. There appeared to be numerous gashes, and she wasn’t quite sure where to start. So she began with the most obvious, gently moving her hand to tilt the man’s chin up.

Well, that was a mistake.

Erato was not one easily distracted in the processes of healing, as she had been around blood and wailing for a great portion of her profession. But Devmond was quiet. True, he had called out to her, crying, limping, but the pain had not rendered him thoughtless or panicked. He wasn’t even whimpering, almost patient as he submitted himself to the whims of a stranger. It took strength to have that amount of humility and control… something Erato had not often seen. The problem with this was that it led her only to more curiosity.

His skin was silkily smooth, she realized as her scaled fingertips brushed against his cheek. Her other hand was still underneath his chin, following the contour of his jaw as it moved up, up to examine the gash on his forehead. His warm blood wet her fingers as they moved—a waking signal to stop ogling and heal the poor creature. But for one moment, she couldn’t quite help herself, trapped by those eyes sparkled with tears. Such a lovely color, warm and golden like honey, soft with sorrow. It made her heart ache at the same time it picked up its beat.

Tingling, that tingling picked up again, and her hand moved involuntarily to sooth the sensation on those scales above her eye. She stopped halfway through the motion, turning to reach into her pack. Her well practiced fingers found the cleaning water and cloth with little difficulty, and the bandages would soon follow. With her fear forgotten, she looked over the kneeling man with new eyes, searching for each individual wound and hoping that the bleeding wasn’t too bad.

“Are they deep, Devmond? You will have to remove that… shirt if I am to bind those cuts.”

[Devmond Incarnata]

As he watched her, Devmond realized that she again had up that protective wall. Little glimpses of the guarded self would peek through every so often. Especially, when she had looked and looked into his eyes. The wall was full of holes. If he continued to exploit the little weaknesses, she would crumble. If he was as talented as he knew he was, his arms would motion to let her run through the pieces of the fallen shell. Then their embrace would last even past the woven gates of Kalinor. The scene would be as tearjerking as a war-time romance novel.

Her hands darted like frightened birds that couldn’t find the right perch. One of them had lifted towards her face but she stopped quickly. Before he had time to process the movement, the hands dived into the pack.

“Are they deep, Devmond? You will have to remove that… shirt if I am to bind those cuts.”

His hands moved slowly and obediently, and began undoing the clasps of the top of his jacket. Then the knots had to be undone. The ribbons unwrapped. The chains unclipped. The zippers pulled down. Devmond was savoring the time. Chosen outfits were always elaborate. So, he could tease like this.

“The claws went in deep. A few inches in some places. Especially, around the chest.” he said weakly while undressing. “The Kriikil made her marks well.”

[Erato]

Kriikil... Erato was not eager to share her ignorance, and simply nodded at the creature’s name. She could only assume it was violent and had large, gashing claws to make such a mess of Devmond. From what she could see of his clothes, there were significant stains and tears, though... it was odd... her eyes watched his fingers work at his elaborate clothes just a little too long. In the back of her mind, she realized that she ought to have offered to help him in the task by now, but merely the notion brought an unfamiliar pink to her cheeks.

But Erato could not deny that she wasn’t at least slightly curious. Both Nilkayn and Devmond showed no discomfort at the notion of exposing their chests, and she had, on a very rare occasion or two, caught sight of a shirtless male sailor working boats at the White Harbour. The thing she had never done, however, was treat such wounds on a male before. Her hands trembled just the slightest bit as she prepared the cloth for washing, wetting it with honey and lavender embalmed water.

Erato didn’t dare to look at the man’s eyes again as she began working at his chest, noting the difference between his lean musculature and the brawn of Nilkayn. Despite the sensitive appearance and silky feel of his skin, the healer was quite sure there was toned muscle underneath it. It made her already unsteady hands a bit clumsy as she dabbed at the blood, momentarily considering if healing Devmond was a wise action while Nilkayn was away.

One thing Erato did manage to do without fail was to remain gentle, cleaning the wounds with care and constantly scrubbing fresh water onto the cleaning cloth. She even found herself apologizing for the cold temperature of the water and irritating his already open wounds in the process of preparing them. She already had her herbal compresses of thyme and calendula prepared, which made the wrapping easier. Her touch remained tender, but firmer as she delved further into her work, binding the wounds with gauze.

Unfortunately, however, a portion of the cuts were deep enough that pressure and bandages alone wouldn’t stop the bleeding. It would require a somewhat uncomfortable procedure, but she doubted Devmond would protest in such a state. She forced herself to look back into his sweetly colored eyes, keeping her lips in a line and her face passive.

“These cuts are too deep for mere bandages. I will have to numb what I can of your skin and sew them shut with silk suture. Is that alright?”

[Devmond Incarnata]

She pressed the wet cloth to a particular sore spot on his shoulder. He flinched painfully and tried not to squirm like a bathroom deprived child. The water-mixture felt like fire as it gushed into the slits of his injured skin. Golden eyes blinked out fat tears as she mentioned the needle. He nodded but not without his lips trembling a little.

“Thank you. I was very fortunate that you are skilled in healing. But, most of all, I’m just happy that you decided to play that song. It was the beacon that led me here to safety.” he said quietly. No matter how pitiful he sounded or may have looked, he felt far from it at the moment. Confidence was rippling in every sharp breath. It took a master’s control to not let the cocky smirk show. He instead guided, like a Inarta arrow, the chuckle into a pathetic sounding whimper as she dug the needle point into the first deep wound.

“Ugh...um, you are probably aware of this, but a compliment should never be hesitantly bestowed. Your voice is very lovely and I mean it sincerely. I’ve heard quite a few singers who were supposed to be good. They hit around tolerable. Then again, I never liked sopranos. The lot of them are stuffed cage birds. Women seem to think they need to warble those glass-breaking high notes or they’re not going to be accepted into the choirs of heaven. But it’s those low notes, the earthy tones, that the world flourishes on.” he laughed with a hint of a blush. “Look at me talking as if I was a virtuoso. You may well think my taste is juvenile. Music has only been a hobby, and a very undedicated one. My friends back in Kalea called me ‘crow’. Only think of the thick raspy, croak and you’ll never be tempted for me to demonstrate why.”

The needle went up and then dived back into the skin. A tremor of pain shot up his arm and he had to bite his tongue to quell the scream. Somehow, this pain from another, even though it was lessened, was much less pleasant than to inflict it on yourself. There was no surprise when you measured the pressure of the blade to your own skin. However, these uneven rhythm of pin pricks were almost driving him crazy. It was partly the reason he had gone on such a long rant; talking was a good way to divert the mind’s attention. The other part of the motive, a much bigger slice of cupid cake, was that it led very nicely to his next move.

A hand that would touch her shoulder. In a cry of discomfort, he had placed it there almost as if to steady himself. As the needle went deeper, the grip became tightened, although, not too tight. He was trying to flirt not hurt. Although, it had to still be very subtle and innocent seeming. She did not seem the type to find forward gestures cute. If he had lightly brushed her leg or put a sneaky arm around her waist, she may would have drawn away and hid again behind the wall’s safety. This surprise attack would hopefully give a little more room for him to maneuver later.

[Erato]

Erato’s cheeks had flushed a delicate pink, and she forced herself to pause as her hands became unsteady again. She had received plenty of passive compliments before, an unspoken duty to guests and patients when they felt obliged to soothe the silence after her notes ceased their echo. Her mother had encouraged her pursuit in it as well, though her comments more often centered on the fact that she could be more skilled if she gave her lyre more practice. What she had never heard, however, was that her song had drawn someone closer, that the compliment was given out of charity even in pain, and that it was given so thoughtfully. Devmond became even more exotic to the konti, whose lips formed a shy and fleeting smile. He liked her voice.

Erato had begun to continue her work once again after a muttered thanks, but found herself at a loss when Devmond’s hand rested on her shoulder. His soft touch, the warmth of his hand, the firmness of his fingers—there was a particular grace that struck Erato as very unfamiliar. Konti women did not have hands like Devmond’s, whose were longer and stronger and yet still so gentle. He didn’t even have the cool and smooth scales that she was so accustomed to seeing. The feeling wasn’t at all unpleasant even when his fingers tightened around her arm, but she didn’t have the slightest idea what to do with it.

“I apologize for the pain, but it is almost done.” There wasn’t much soothing to offer at this point, but her thumb gently stroked his skin a few inches away from the wound, waiting just one more moment before taking the needle to the last cut. She didn’t dare look into his eyes, bending closer to his chest to keep focused on the delicate sewing work as she made the last few pricks to finally shut it. When the nervous work was neatly done, she straightened back up with a relieved sigh and went back to her dressings. Herbs meant to soothe the skin were put in place and wrapped, and the tedious healing work was finally done.

“You still ought to be careful, Devmond. The bleeding has quelled and infection is unlikely with my ointments, but there will still be swelling. If the pain or irritation becomes too much, I have more medicines to help, but you must be careful not to move too much in the chance of reopening those fresh wounds.” Erato then rinsed her hands with water from her pouch and dried them with a clean cloth, keeping her shoulders as still as possible to avoid slipping his hand off.

Erato knew what would happen when she looked up, but chose to do so nonetheless. Her eyes met his honeyed ones, caught in the brilliant color for a moment, but surprised by the tears. He was trying so hard to suppress his reaction to the pain, speaking so gently and thoughtfully most likely to help keep his mind off of it, and she had offered little help in keeping that conversation. Instinctively, the pity of a healer reawakened, and her hands moved without hesitation to gently brush away his tears.

“Nilkayn will surely return shortly. I think you ought to stay with us, at least for the night. None of us know one another well, but surely company will deter further attacks like this.”

[Devmond Incarnata]

“Thank you, your generous and kind. I will have to take your consideration. I hope that Nilkayn is not bothered by my presence. I’m assuming your traveling with him, do you think he would mind a temporary companion?” Desmond said smiling brightly with gratitude.

The sparkle in his eyes, to those who knew him better, was actually spite. It wasn’t, of course, that he was jealous. There was more ice in hell then someone as straight-laced as the Akalak could sneak away the woman’s heart while he watched. There really were only three parts to Nilkayn that Devmond could decipher at this point: being tall (like a tree), muscular (body-builder), and natural leader personality (gun-ho type). Lesser men would have let that, the fact that Nilkayn looked like you could crack ribs with a chime mallet, give a good excuse to meander to easier venues. Not him of course. Certainly, his eyes, that always had bags under them, didn’t detract from everything else that was elegant. Long nails (claws) are attractive on both genders.

But his good looks aside. There were other concerns that could put a few wrinkles in a perfect forehead. It was a long journey to Zeltiva and, even though he had faked the attack, there would be more dangerous possibilities in this forest that he wouldn’t even want to consider replicating. The biggest problem, however, could be how much Nilkayn or Erato actually knew about Symenestra harvests. If they even had an inkling of his true intentions, then his pursuit of Erato’s affection would be all too obvious. This would be when the mere look of the Akalak entailed something deadly. He’d be squished like, well, a bug.

With the prospect of being made into “Little Devvies”(TM), there was really no excuse not to be careful. Even now he was taking every little detail into memory. Although, what he was eyeing became less and less relevant to his survival. At first, he noticed the meticulous way at which she went about her work. The stitches were neat and even. Not a drop of blood was allowed to spill from the wound. Her hands never wavered. Then he saw how her bangs would shift occasionally and he would see a patch of striking iridescent scales above her eye. Then he saw the way her breathing would quicken when she looked into his eyes.

It was then her small hand had reached towards his face. She touched him back. Brushing away his ears with her fingertips, he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. As he looked her expression, he saw that her face remained innocent. There had been many women who had returned his physical expression with the same dirty intentions. But this was the touch of only concern for him and only him. Although, he had never felt that sort of gesture of kindness, never feeling the touch of a mother who had died long ago, it felt strange to him that tinniest bit of warmth light in his chest as he watched every little detail.

Of course, it was probably still the sting of the wounds. He grabbed her hand suddenly as she began to pull it away. “I realize this is very sudden, it is rather strange that I did not think of but I have to ask you,” Devmond said slowly while a small smile that quickly grew to expose a few of his deadly accessory. He then used the hand to pull her forward using his other to draw around her shoulder. His face was now close to her neck and he breathed out quietly before saying, “You’ve done more than I can ever repay. All I could ask for more is that I wish to know the name of the good soul who saved me. Could you do me one more favor?”

[Nil'kayn]

Kayn let each sense rule over him as he walked. He could smell crush pine needle, and many other earthy smells. He could feel and hear the twigs and leaves, crunch and snap under foot, and he could feel the cool twilight air ruffle a strand of hair or two out of his braid. He could hear the sound of his breathing, and the sounds of far off animals going to sleep, and others waking up for a night of hunting. He was peaceful as he strode through the woodland, he ignored Nil, and any thoughts of getting firewood. After a time he open his eyes and sighed remembering his duties. He glanced around and to his right was a rock sticking out of the ground to his a back a large tree of some sort, and other trees and bushes surrounded him. Bending down he started to gather dry twigs, and branches when he heard a sound coming from the underbrush nearby. He froze, straitening himself he turned his head slowly towards the bushes and he saw in shake. He heard a grunting squeal, and a large form burst forth from the bushes. Leaves through everywhere as it burst forth, Kayn's eye widened trying to take in the creature. It was a short stocky animal, only probably reaching around 3 feet, but Kayn could see the muscles rippled, underneath the creatures bristly hide. Its head was rather large; two gleaming tusks peaking out from underneath a snout, and two black gleaming gems for eyes. The creature suddenly charged forward, letting out the grunt-squeal sound, the creature had to run up a light hill and it was a far ways. Kayn quickly made a plan giving a glance upward where a branch hang. To all the world Kayn looked stern, he knelt drawing an arrow from his quiver. He pulled string and arrow taunt letting his eye trail down to arrow. Pulling with his back muscles, more than his arms as his father had taught him. He let loose the arrow, it flew and only scratched the hide of the beast. He fired two more shot, neither being any more successful. The creature thundered closer, he threw his bow to the side. He stood up widening his stance, he drew his lakan a growl escaping his lips. The creature lowered its head, pointing its tusks towards the akalak. Just before the creature reached him, he crouched and jumped upward hoping to find the branch. He encircled the branch with his arms, but he heard a crack from it as he did it. He prayed to any god that would listen, for it not to break. The creature had slammed into the trees trunk shrugging it off it had turned around to see where he was, glancing down he realised the creature would not have been able to see him, when he had lowered his head. He heard another crack, and his heart sunk as he realised what was about to happen. Your an idiot. The branch snapped and both it and the akalak fell to the ground, to the side of the creature. The creature back was turned, luckily as the Kayn returned to kneeling position, when the beast whirled around charging. Kayn eyes widened, he stabbed his lakan into the ground. As those ivory tusks moved closer to his chest, he shot out his hands from above attempting to wrap his hands around tusk. His right arm did just this, but his left missed and the boars tusk made a large gash on his forearm. He gritted his teeth wrestling with the creature, he got his wounded arm on the other tusk and pushed down. He moved himself so he was above the creature it struggled, but its jaw was pushed to the ground. Clamping his leg around the beast sides he let go of one of the tusks, grasping his lakan, he slid it under the beast and slit its throat. The blood spilled onto the ground he grimaced at the pain from his arm, he ripped of a part of his shirt and used his teeth and other hand to tie it around his forearm. Grabbing the bow he glanced over the beast, he smiled even though he was hurt it gave him pride to take down this beast. Hefting the carcass he trekked back to camp. He was soon back at camp, cover from blood of the beast from head to toe, it having spilt all over him. He trudged into camp dropping the carcass at the side of the fire pit. He remembered the wood, so trudging out of camp he didn't even notice the other two walking into the trees he started to gather whatever what was at hand. Though he didn't really need it as he had already gathered some when he had set up camp, but he felt he needed to do it. Returning he threw the rest of the wood into a pile. Finally he glanced the other two, his eyes narrowed. "I'm guessing we shall have one more joining us."

[Erato]

The light pink on Erato’s cheeks deepened into a red, even spreading to her ears. An odd little snort went through her nose as she tried to suppress a giggle—the warm breath on her neck tickled. Reflexively, her left shoulder cringed upward and her head tilted towards it, brushing the side of her face against Devmond’s head. It made the scales above her left eye tingle again, though she found the light touch of the man’s hair to be soothing. The dark strands were almost milky in their smoothness, just as she had imagined.

At this point, Erato didn’t quite understand what was going on. Well, there was one part of her that did, but that was in her gut, which was happily squirming and squeezing and urging her to move just a little bit closer. The rest of her (and the larger part of her, mind you), recognized that this movement was rather odd for so new an acquaintance, but it seemed to be purely friendly. Her eyes were fixated on the hand that trapped hers, and she made no movement to pull away. In fact, she found the light weight of his arm to be reassuring, the warmth of his closeness more comfortable than the cool night settling in. So she did the one thing she knew how to do best, remaining still and quiet in the face of perfect uncertainty.

Slowly, however, Erato began to relax, the curve of her back softening and her shoulders just beginning to slump. Her jaw finally slacked enough for her to open her mouth, and her voice was surprisingly normal. “My name is Erato. I do not think that N—”

Something very heavy was moving through the woods nearby, but Erato didn’t feel the pang of danger that she should have. She turned nonetheless, eyes widening in surprised horror at the akalak drenched in blood. The frightened konti didn’t dare speak as she watched the large man drop his carcass, moving about his business as if nothing was strange about slaying such a beast and walking about covered in the stench of death. She did manage to note the wound on his arm, but was then only more frightened by the sheer muscle she saw there and the possibilities of what else it could do.

When the akalak then set the firewood into place and spoke, Erato was so chilled by his gaze that she could do nothing more but nestle closer to Devmond’s side, the sudden frightening notion of cannibalism coming to mind as her skin turned pale.

[Devmond Incarnata]

He had heard the heavy footsteps first, but Devmond was still unprepared for the bloody mass that was dumped near the fire. It was a large carcass, but somehow the Akalak had managed to carry it one-armed. Devmond stared at the strange dead creature with black claws, tusks, two sets of ears, and bristled hide. The battered body suggested that it took a very determined hand to stop its heart. If he was the complimentary sort of man, which Devmond would call the ‘parrot’ people (those unoriginal souls who only know how to repeat what they’ve heard), Nilkayn would have been given at least a nod of respect. What he got was silence, for awhile, and the cold stare returned with interest.

Nilkayn entrance and his words, both laden with intimidation, led the Symenestra to his worlds of imaginings; even a lesser mind would have put themselves in the beasts’ place. The Akalak’s body covered in gore suddenly was replaced by a slender man whose veil of blood was just as fresh. Glowing, red eyes like coals on a hot bed that delighted in smothering anything that would dare to get too close. Pale arms were raised to in zealous praise, clutching a stone offering bowl filled with the life of its sacrificial victim. This was the picture of the violent fringe worshippers of the Symenestra, the picture of his own brother.

He heard in his ear, Erato gasp, and pull closer to him. Close enough that they were almost intertwined with his legs under hers. The scales on her forehead brushed against his cheek, its before unknown texture gave him a slight shiver of surprise. Looking down at her face, her mind was dark to him, leaving the specters in her eyes in the shadows for him to never disentangle. But in that expression which was distant, he could see a little of his own reflection. So, she thought in a similar way to him, at least in this situation.

He felt her shoulder pressing under his arm and near his chest, surprisingly soft. Her slender body and swimming skills had suggested something tighter and sharp. Erato was indeed fit, he innocently tested with his fingers her back muscles, but she begged to be held. Devmond could have guessed that the comfortable layer was for insulation in cold water, like seals or other cushy water animals. Right now though, he was happy to think about what he could soon get away with besides this intimate position. With no other opposition, she was slowly falling under his spell. Erato, Erato. Did you realize your name was so close to E-r-o-t-i-c?

“Shouldn’t I pledge myself you slave?” he said coyly with a wink, but loud enough for the Akalak to hear. “I should follow you to the ends of each corner of Mizahar, and guard your footsteps as they fall. Let me be your moon lantern with eyes that see in the dark. I will be your shelter, just as I am now holding you close, to cover you from sights that you want to hide. Fear will fade to be forgotten as I fill your ears with the stories of my people. They will make you laugh or cry like comedies and tragedies, but stay to look into my eyes and you can see the characters play in the theater. Will you except this humble request?”

With a smirk, he turned to Nilkayn. “Yes, at least for the time I need to recover, then again,” The words and the mouth whose smile were swaying with magnanimous gestures, the eyes instead shone reflections with bitter memories. “I think I may have find that I will grow to enjoy both your company too much to not journey together at least till we have no choice but to part ways.” Another gentle squeeze was given to Erato’s cushy shoulder.

“In fact, I have at least found one reason already.”