Closed Paranoimia (Chemar)

[Kovac]

Timestamp: 10th Day of Summer, 511 AV Status: Closed, Tag Chemar Tisserand Kovac looked out over the wide expanse around and below him. In one direction, Thunder Bay loomed in a hazy distance, the tiny dots of the sparse buildings of the village clinging to the shore. To the other side, The beginning of the Sanikas Pass stretched out before him. The avora did not wonder why he stood upon the peak of the Lookout. In reality, only riders ever saw the monumental view from the towering stone spire. But...this wasn't reality, for Kovac was still nestled in a pile of pillows and furs, the slumbering Shayth's long limbs tangled with his own. And he slept restlessly. In his dream, he could feel the frigid wind tugging at him, clad only in a bryda and boots. He clutched his bow in his hands, but had no arrows, no quiver slung across his back. He was looking for something. For some reason, it did not bother him that he did not know what it was. Over the roaring wind, a voice, as if whispered into his ear, cut through. "Kovac." It was a female's voice, a familiar one in fact. Fear gripped him at its sound. Suddenly he didn't want to turn around, he knew its source was behind him, maybe it would dissolve away, like the cold breeze playing tricks with his mind. "Kovac, do not deny me." The honeyed voice seemed to reach into his gut and yank at his core. That cord was pulling him, turning him, and his boots moved, grinding against the dirt and dust of the rock beneath him, until he was face to face with her....Chemar. Her pale cheeks were ruddy, as if the cold brought a flush to her face. An innocent grin adorned her mouth, and her gold-rimmed eyes peered at him without malice. She looked down at her hand, raised with the palm upwards. Upon it sat a butterfly, unlike any Kovac had ever seen. Red and gold swirls dominated its wings, and even thought the wind whipped around the two of them, the butterfly remained unaffected, its wings beating in a slow, even rhythm. Chemar raised her hand to her mouth, and with a wide smile at Kovac, she blew on the colorful insect. Its wings beat faster, and it flitted from her hand, across the short distance to the avora, and lighted on his shoulder. When the tiny butterfly landed on Kovac, it felt as if a Jamouran had slammed his fist into him. The force of the blow pushed him back, and the archer found his heels teetering on a rocky edge. For a moment, he hovered at a position of imbalance. He glanced at Chemar with a horrified look, the inarta woman returning his panicked expression with a smile and a wave. Then he slipped off the mount backwards, plummeting towards the cloud shrouded ground. ---------------------------- Kovac awoke with a start, panting and sweaty. Five nights in a row. Five nights he had been awakened by disturbing dreams, all sharing the same malevolent feature. Chemar. Stabbings, bludgeonings, disembowelments, and today, pushed from a cliff. The man was terrified to go to sleep. Slipping from Shayth's embrace, Kovac tugged on his bryda and donned his boots. It had to end, he was exhausted, unanble to get sufficient rest. Slipping out of the aerie, he made his way down the empty corridors into the warrens. She was haunting him. Somehow, he was convinced, the dreamwalker was tapping into his dreams, tormenting him for some sick pleasure. Kovac was going to put an end to it. He had seen Chemar on only a few occasions since the traumatic dreamwalk back in the spring. Then there was the curious encounter with her and Sairque later that season. The dreams had started shortly after he visited the Dreaming Lady, infrequent and scattered at first. Some were violent, others sensual, all disturbing. It took him a moment to remember how to get to Chemar's place. Finally he found the door. He banged on it with his fist, calling out. "Dreamwalker! Wake up...Chemar!"

[Chemar Tisserand]

The sun didn't have the sting that it usually did, so as the long veil of red lashes gave way to green eyes there was no need to squint away the light. Chemar sat quietly staring at the unfiltered light, her gaze darting from one billowed cloud to the next as they stepped through the sky like a floating bridge between the two sides of the canyon in which she sat. With her arms stretched out to her sides she could feel the very tips of the grass as it wrote secret messages upon her palms. So far so good. Her own voice sounded in her head as she continued to create the calming world within her dream. A long drawn breath pulled the fresh scent of clover into her lungs and she smiled, letting her head fall back as she reclined into the grass. She didn't know this place in life, but had taken to creating it in her dreaming world, each time adding another detail until every part of it seemed utterly authentic. The grass was soft against her skin, and the freshness of the air continued to surround her. In stark contrast, most every one of her personal dreams was filled with the residual horror she tried to remove from the lives of her clients. This test of her ability to create a calming place was recent, something she'd begun after a walk in the early spring. Not here. Her subconscious warned her of bringing those memories here, for all it took to destroy what she'd built, was one thought, one darkened memory. The sound of a bird overhead drew her attention and she watched it glide in loping circles overhead, it's body still as it propelled fluidly on the breeze. It called again, this time a little louder, clearly cutting through the air to her ears. Then it came... A loud cacophonous clap, sounding from the stone walls of the valley. Another followed and she sheltered her ears with cupped hands, a tightness seized her stomach and she squeezed her eyes shut. Every echoing clap shook her whole body, and soon they became less rhythmic and more demanding, pounding through her with a stuttered urgency. The call of the bird screamed as though inside her head, every screech cut through her like lightning until the animalistic calls began to sound like a voice. The voice of a man, a desperate man. Dreamwalker! Wake up...Chemar! ******************************************************** Chemar awoke tangled in a gnarled twist of furs and bedding, her hair tossled like the mane of a lion save the damp ribbons that clung to her neck, breasts and shoulders. There was an insistent pounding at her door and through the haze of waking she thought she recognized Kovac's voice. Before answering the door, she did her best to catch her breath, she was accustomed to waking from nightmares, if they began as such, but when she'd created her small escape and it became twisted, she was longer to recover. Shaking hands dragged a line across her temples and behind her ears to rest for a moment on her neck. POUND POUND POUND "I'm coming." She pushed off the bed after untangling herself and slipped a nightshirt over her head. It was neither modest, nor opaque, but she could not have cared less at the moment. With shuffling feet and the butt of her hand pressed into one eye, she moved to the door, opening it with no haste of movement. The first view of Kovac was a shock, though she had recognized the voice, she still believed that there would be someone elses face to greet her when she opened the door. He looked as though he too had been wrenched from sleep by his visit to her home. There was a veil of unrest and anger in his eyes that sent a chill creeping across her skin. Though there had been many thoughts and some dreams devoted to the man on her threshhold, none had manifested with any malice, and she felt her irritation turn to compassion when she saw him. In her usual whispered tone she responded to his intrusive calls. "What is it Kovac? What's happened?"

[Kovac]

Kovac stood at Chemar's door, impatiently waiting, the images of his nightmare and the dreamwalker's taunting face still lingering in his mind's eye. She had done something, haunted him somehow, it was twisted and wrong and he was intent on getting to the bottom of it, nearly crazy with the nightly visions. A Dek trudged by, haggard and disheveled, drawing away his attention. Kovac wondered if the poor girl had been used by some upper caste male and then booted to the hallways. An annoying accusation poked at the avora, reminding him that he too had abused a Drudge or too in the same manner. It compelled him to avert his eyes from the woman. His momentary lapse of attention left Kovac unprepared as the heavy wooden door to Chemar's chambers opened. His gaze snapped to see the dreamwalker standing there, her mane of crimson hair as tangled as the dek's, her eyes bleary and squinting against the soft light of the corridor. Kovac coughed involuntarily, not expecting such an immodest appearance by the inarta. She always seemed to be able to disarm him so easily...and it bugged the shyke out of him. Composing himself and stirring his Chemar-directed angst again, the avora met her gaze. Even sleepy her gold rimmed irises seemed to glow. With his own narrowed eyes, still puffy from sleep, the man raised an accusatory finger. "What have you done, how did you get into my head?!" He demanded, shouldering past Chemar and into her apartment. He turned to face her. Trying to avoid the distraction of her appearance and clinging to his indignation. "Did you plants some magic in my head when you walked my dream? Are you having fun messing with me, tormenting me every night?" He took several quick steps towards Chemar, finger still pointed definitively at her, his other hand resting at his hip. Kovac paused, anxious to hear the woman's explanation.

[Chemar Tisserand]

His entry into her home was both intrusive and disarming, knocking her aside as he stormed into her private sanctuary. She was thrust off balance by the impact of his shoulder and grasped at the heavy door to save herself from a fall. When her balance was recovered she slowly closed the door and threw the heavy lock to keep their exchange from spilling into the streets of Wind Reach. With their secrets locked safely in her home she turned to face her accuser, still feeling a little disoriented and drunk from the harsh way she was torn from sleep. Every aspect of Kovac's demeanor seemed bent on assault, from the sharp phrases he shot at her, to the finger pointed at her chest, singling her out at the enemy. Chemar drew a long deep breath trying to process the words as they flew at her like loosed arrows. How did you get into my head? What was he talking about? Magic. The insulation of first waking began to fall away, and her mind snapped to clarity, her clear eyes taking on their usual edge. Tormenting me every night. He is continung without me... She made sure to hold the corners of her mouth in check, even though they wished to tip into a satisfied smile, and she listened quietly until Kovac finished his initial onslaught. He stood before her, raggedly drawing breath and sweating like an angered animal; Seemingly ready to launch another attack as soon as he had her response. It was clear by his carriage and appearance that this was not the first of these dreams. His face seemed haggard and vulnerable in spite of his role as aggressor. It had never been her intent for their walk to come to this, though with a pang of guilt she did find some comfort in the knowledge that he too had met with some resistance in shrugging off their experience. But he had brought it to her house, and now it was her turn to speak. With a slight lift of her chin and a straightening of her shoulders and back, she found her composure and moved until the tip of his finger poked into the solid plane of her sternum, disregarding his attack as though he was some minor annoyance, and not an intruder in her home. "How did I get into your head?" She stared at him without any hint of the vulnerability she had awoken with, and her eyes began to glow with their usual eeriness. "I am there, because you invited me." Her voice did not raise above its usual whisper, but there was a confident force behind each syllable. She pushed closer now, finding some measure of umbrage at the Avora for bringing this to her home. If a fight was what he wanted, she would not disappoint. His finger, unmoving, pushed into her chest as she closed the distance between them, resting her mouth a hair's breath from his as she still held his gaze. "The real question is...why are you keeping me there Kovac?"

[Kovac]

Kovac vented his frustration, fueled by exhaustion and confusion. Such was his anxiety that he did not realize how disarmed Chemar was with his nocturnal intrusion. Her disheveled mass of crimson hair and the bleary eyed gaze managed to escape the flustered avora. All he knew was he could not get the dreamwalker out of his mind. That in itself was not an issue, he had some girl on his mind at any given moment. But the haunting recurrence of Chemar came repeatedly in dreams, bad dreams. Likewise, when the perturbed avora finished his tirade, he missed the subtle shift in her demeanor, imperceptible clues of revelation within her understanding. Obvious though was the shift to the confident, forward inarta he knew Chemar to be; standing tall, chin elevated, eyes flashing and in control. Her forefinger, delicate and small, nonetheless was irritating as she drove it into his chest. Chemar seemed to have learned much about Kovac during their walk, she knew how to unbalance him, throw him off. Closeness was one of those tactics. She drew close, gold-rimmed irises catching his. His breath froze as her mouth hovered close to his face. He did not want to inhale her scent, to feel her warm breath on his skin, the warmth of her so near, Kovac knew what those things did. He felt his insides go undone, as if her proximity agitated the molecules of his blood. Petch... The archer stood stock still as she spoke, soft yet convincing, as if confirming some fact he already knew. But what Chemar suggested was ridiculous. It was his fault? Did this happen to everyone she walked? And how could he be keeping her in his head, why would he desire to have his sleep tortured and his dreams stolen by this woman's appearance? He took a step back, relieving the pressure of her finger and escaping the magnetism of her persona. "Me? Why would I be keeping you in there? Why would I want to awake night after night with images of you tormenting me, teasing me, harming me? Why are you there? Does this happen to everyone you work on?" He blurted out. Kovac's angst had diminished, cooled by Chemar's adept handling. But he would not be sloughed off, he needed an explanation. Even now, in her presence, he felt an uneasy tension that waxed and waned with the woman's nearness. it was a draw, but one that seemed...unhealthy. His breath now calming, he looked into Chemar's gaze. Even as in the dream, that gaze seemed to refuse to let his eyes wander. Realization sunk in. He managed to tear his gaze away to glance around the room, and back at Chemar. He felt suddenly as if he had stumbled into something's lair. Something seductive and dangerous. Maybe the dreams were simply the lure to bring him here. No...now he was being paranoid. He had caught her unexpected. Now she was trying to coddle him and lead him just like in the dream. He called her bluff. Stepping close again, Kovac looked down at Chemar. He did not touch her, but stood desperately close. He tried to ignore the spike of tension that arose in his gut, the almost electric response that traveled his nerves. Hand on his hips, Kovac spoke with equal calm. "I am not leaving until I have an explanation and a cure." In appearance, the taller, muscular man seemed to domineer over the small, slight woman. But a look into her face revealed the true balance of power. In breath of distraction, Kovac's eyes darted down beyond her deceptively angelic features to the rest of her. Weakness stirred and his gaze quickly returned to her gilded green eyes.

[Chemar Tisserand]

As Chemar watched the Avora waver, though just a little, she enjoyed the brief respite from the intensity of their meeting and took a deep breath. As she drew in the breath, it was filled with the blend of her spiced perfume, muted by hours of sleep, and his earthy musk. The rich combination did nothing to release the tightness that had seized in the pit of her stomach, but she was well versed in the ignorance of her own drives and urges, so often acting as the vessel for those feelings in others. When Kovac had regrouped, he continued his assault and she was prepared, bright eyes meeting his sharp gaze until the moment his eyes strayed. She watched as his will began to erode. Poor Kovac... Faced once more with his focused stare, Chemar upped the stakes, just as he had done, taking away the last buffer of distance between them with one small step. The fabric of her chemise floated across the skin of his chest and stomach before being trapped between them, the last barrier. "An explanation and a cure?" She spoke the phrase without expectation of response, merely to refresh her thoughts. The words emerged slowly and quietly, as though she pondered each of them independently. "Again you come to me to help you find the answers to the questions that you yourself have created. This could become a dangerous ...habit..." The breath expelled by her speech reflected off the tightened jaw of Kovac, adding a veil of her warmth to his skin. She watched the hollow of his cheek tremble as his muscles responded involuntarily. Locked in this standoff with Kovac, Chemar's thoughts touched on a gift...a test... her father had given her. A finger puzzle, made of paper, it was such that the only way out, was further in. The dreamwalker could picture it as clear as the line of Kovac's cheek, her small fingers thrust into the ends of the paper tube. At first, she struggled to pull them free, straining the bonds of the woven paper, but not getting loose. After some thought, and a humored grin on her father's face, she pushed her fingers tip to tip until the paper relaxed and she slipped to freedom. The puzzle may have been simple, but the idea was one that guided Chemar's life; She had learned that day, and had it reinforced each day after, that the only way through certain situations was to push yourself in as far as you could go. Go past your point of comfort and often times you will be freed. "Since you are here, and it looks as though you are not leaving until you have resolution, I will do my best." With her glowing emerald eyes still locked on his, Chemer reached her slender hands to his wrists. In spite of a nervous flinch from the Avora, she continued by wrapping her fingers around flesh and bone until her hands acted as human handcuffs. Her solid, but gentle touch trapped his arms so she might guide them, which she did, to the long smooth column of her throat. A light smirk curled her lips as life reflected the dream they had shared and she watched as the look in Kovac's eyes took on a complexion of anxiety. "Shhhhh....no action will be taken, unless you wish it." Her smile faded and a slight quirk of her eyebrow conveyed a sense of what would follow. "I am merely giving you all the options." With his hands still under her command, and poised at her throat, she lifted onto her toes and lightly brushed her lips over his. In a slow and tormenting pause, she whispered her breath across Kovac's lips while the weight of her lashes seemed to pull her eyes a little closer to closed, hiding any betrayal offered by the vivid green. "There you have your choices...what will you do...?"

[Kovac]

The avora had done his best to assert control, to demand a resolution to his torment. Chemar Tisserand had proven to be a persistent echo in his life since the dreamwalk they shared. He did his best to ignore it, in his well-honed craft of denial. But flashes of the dream, remembered moments of incredible pain and pleasure, horror and revelation, recurred unbidden. The nature of the dream had painted, or tainted, the half-blood's real life perception of the woman. In her presence, he still half-expected her to rip an organ out of his torso, or to give him a blood-stained kiss without warning. Even now, as Kovac stood before her, trying his best to appear demanding and unrelenting, his insides were shuddering. Yes, the feelings Chemar elicited in the dream still clung to his soul, even in the world. Hate and passion, want and repulsion. All roiling in his inept heart as the real life woman moved against him, so brashly and boldly stealing every shred of his defense as if it were hers to take. Kovac managed to stay his position, giving no ground as the small, soft body pressed against his, the light fabric of her garment holding the warmth of her flesh thinly concealed beneath it. His teeth grit together, trying to steel himself against the soft puff of her breath on his face as she spoke, like sweet honey laced with broken glass. Chemar's words were twisting, urging Kovac to believe he had brought this torment upon himself and again, like a blood-soaked savior, she would fix things for him again. Just like his dream avatar, muted by Chemar in the dreamscape, Kovac now volunteered no words, her gilded green gaze holding him fixated, anxious and anticipating as her small hands encircled his wrist. Kovac hesitated only a moment before succumbing to her grip. The avora allowed his hands to be raised to her long, soft throat. It was like the dream, and the unfolding events unnerved him greatly. Almost reflexively, his hands curled around her neck, loosely, even as Chemar held him in her grasp. Then, lifting herself to his face, the fullness of her lips brushed his, the briefest of contacts that nonetheless registered along tingling nerves in his spine. The woman had posed her dilemma to Kovac, an impossible quandary one would think for a rational person to make. Kill her, or take her? Kovac's head spun, swamped with surging emotions and dramatic physical reactions. Exhaustion, confusion, anger and nagging desire threatened to push him to rashness. It was all her fault. He had simply been asleep. Strong fingers closed slightly around her pale neck, his thumbs sliding along the length of her narrow throat. He could simply press them together, crushing her windpipe. Set upon her bottomless gaze, he imagined them growing wide in shock and fear, until they faded to a dull gloss. But this was not a dream, and there would be consequences to his actions. He knew, deep down, that he could not kill her, even though he found an almost sensual satisfaction in fantasizing about it. Moments passed. Just as in the dream, the room became surreal, and the world of Wind Reach, endals and deks, Shayth and Aidara and Amon, all faded to a muted silence. Kovac's thumbs swung out form her tender throat, heels of his palms lifting away as well. His fingers, still placed around the back of her neck, pulled her the miniscule distance to him, his mouth now hover over hers. "I hate you." He muttered in a husky whisper, before pressing his lips against hers.

[Chemar Tisserand]

The change in pressure was subtle, but there was no mistaking the desire in his eyes as Kovac's fingers closed just a little around her throat. Her movements withheld, she watched the battle in his eyes. Perhaps he will kill me. The thought occurred with some amount of alarm as his thumbs pressed ever so slightly into the hollow at the base of her throat, nothing to this point had gone as planned with Kovac, why should this moment be any different. Though she was far more equipped to weather the lingering thoughts and images of this late night intruder, it was a first for her, and the imbalance it thrust into her daily life was nagging and often times bewitching. She should not have offered so much of herself in their walk, she should have known better. But she had done, and now it was the common thread holding them together and at odds. Her mind began to weave through her own feelings toward Kovac to try and find a solution to their common problem when with only the force of a terse whisper, she was assaulted by three words. I hate you. The uninvited reaction her body had to those three small words bordered on paralyzing. All her life, she'd fought to deny those predilections that would isolate her from society; The urges within dream that would paint her as what she always imagined she was, a monster. Outside of Sai, in a youthful tirade, no one had ever spoken those words to her in earnest, and the effect was beyond any pain, physical or mental, she had ever felt. Before she could recoil, Kovac's mouth was crushing against her, venting his hatred through desire. Laid open by his brief preamble, she was stunned into such a state of vulnerability that her only response was total and utter submission. His kiss was saturating, flooding her with his need so fully, that her own cravings had no place, save to be reflected back to him. Compromised by his statement, she acted without any filter, releasing everything she had learned to deny herself onto Kovac, but with a disarmed vulnerability she had never revealed. With her arms limp by her sides, the only things holding her were Kovac's hands cradling her head and his lips pulling her deeper and deeper into her own abandon. As though falling into a channel with no end, Chemar felt out of control. The connection to Kovac was devastating to her own self worth, reducing her to a shell that uncharacteristically craved completion, an unsure girl who honestly believed every harshness she imagined about herself and who wanted nothing more that to be saved and affirmed, even if it was only through the misplaced desires of the moment. Though every instinct was driving her to let Kovac devour her, Chemar pushed her hand into his hair and balled it into a fist, using every bit of her will to break the kiss. Her mouth still brushed his, plush lips raw from his kiss, when she spoke, it was with the smallest whisper of breath. "You have your cure." Raw with the undoing of both his words and actions, she looked to his half closed eyes, feeling the cravings still driving his lips toward hers. "Hate me." The words caused a sourness in the pit of her stomach that made her waver on already weakened legs. "Feed it. Feed it until all else you feel for me is eclipsed. You seem already well on your way." Try as she might, she could not mask the pain of all her worst fears coming to light. He could look into her now, as only a few had ever done, the increasing moisture in her gold rimmed eyes easily reflected what she saw back ti him. He could witness first hand any emotion she might be seeing in him. For a brief moment, all she felt, and all he felt, could be found in Chemar's vulnerable gaze. The warmth of his lips drew her closer, their taste still lingering on hers.. Her bottom lip dragged briefly over his, her resistance shattered even as she invited him to drive her out of his head. Her hand still remained tangled in his dark hair and she willed herself not to pull him back into the kiss they both wanted. "....your move..."

[Kovac]

Kovac could feel it in the kiss. No resistance, no effort to vie for control of the embrace of their mouths. Chemar had been disarmed, somehow, and Kovac was drinking in victory. The kiss was primal and needy, he devoured Chemar with an unbidden desire that the avora didn't recognize,but it blossomed in the deep kiss, and Chemar fed it willingly and wholly. Exhausted and faced with the object of his torment, Kovac had relinquished himself to the craving. There was a spike of excitement as Kovac felt Chemar's slender hand entangle in his hair, but she pulled back with surprising force, breaking the fiery kiss. Chemar would not let him off the hook, and she hovered so close, her soft plump lips barely touched his as she whispered to him. Kovac wanted more, but Chemar pulled back on his hair, denying him what he desired. Again, she had control, as he waited with bated breath and pounding heart. Chemar's words were not spoken with the confidence he was accustomed. But she offered him an easy way out...hate her and keep his distance. But Kovac did not hate Chemar. He just wanted to, it would make things easier. Something happened after she lead him on a dream walk. Yes, she was attractive, and her almost enigmatic behavior was alluring. But that did not explain the convoluted magnetism that drew him to her. Images of their dream, bloody and gruesome and sensual, ate at his core, birthing a sick want within him. And that need annoyed him, it was as if she still held sway over him, extending the control she had over him in their dream into his waking life. And then came the nightmares. Chemar was inside him, haunting him, and something made him want her desperately. Then he saw it in her eyes. A soft pain, vulnerability, disappointment. Was she mortal woman after all? Did what Kovac think have some consequence to her? He stared into her green gaze, rimmed with gold, eyes that had captivated, enthralled and horrified him in the past, now without defense, glistening with restrained tears. Kovac was undone. She could not have left him more disarmed had she danced naked in front of him dripping with oil. The brief, sublime contact of her bottom lip with his was as if the trigger of a catapult had been sprung. He sensed her lack of will to resist, and he had none left himself. Kovac's hand entangled the crimson mane at the back of her head and he pulled her mouth to his. The previous kiss resumed, all inhibitions laid aside. The embrace of their lips moved with abandon as they explored the reached of each other's mouth. His hands slid down the thin fabric at her sides to rest on her slight hips, moving slowly to hike up the short hem of her chemise until he felt smooth skin. The avora's mind had given into the addictive need for Chemar. He heeded no consequences, pondered no plan, he just unleashed the long held desperate want upon the inarta woman. Hands roamed, under her garment, down her thighs, as if wanting to experience every textured of her flesh. Then, with an incredible act of will, Kovac pulled away from Chemar. His half-lidded green eyes locked with hers, his raw intent so obvious in his lusty gaze. But something kicked in. It was not regret, or a second thought, or a hesitation. It was the desire to savor the woman. Not to consume her in one bite, but to enjoy her...bit by bit. He stepped close again, leaning down slightly he scooped the woman into his arms. Moving across the room, he slipped through the open door to her inner room. Near her bed, he set her down again. Kovac looked down at her again, and muttered in a husky tone. "I think I can work out the hate." His arms went to her waist again, and with force he pulled her against him, his head tilting and his lips, parted, pressed against the dreamwalker's once again.

[Chemar Tisserand]

Nothing you experience on your walk will follow you to your waking life... This time, the words were solely Chemar's, not a hint of her father's baritone was present when the words echoed in her ears. Even as Kovac's hot hands pressed on her hips, his nails just grazing pale skin as he gathered the hem of her chemise in his fists, the words she had always believed buzzed in her subconscious like a persistent fly. Her face grew heated, and her breath lost its depth, as this entanglement grew deeper. Protests, as yet unspoken, became moot as Kovac broke their kiss, placing Chemar at the crux of a paradox... Nothing you experience on your walk will follow you to your waking life... But something had followed her; something conflicted yet single minded, repellent yet irresistible, intoxicating yet sobering. Addiction took a flesh and blood form, the result of a dream she'd taken too far to emerge as she had entered. Her stomach twisted, and it felt as though it pulled her skin tight; enough to nearly crush her heart as it thundered in her chest. The room became a sponge, and seemed to absorb any sound, save that of her breathing; it was all she could hear at she stared at Kovac, stared as his face softened. As he leaned in once more, she expected another kiss, but rather, was swept from her feet with a breathtaking lack of effort on his part, the teardrops in her wild hair chimed softly against each other as they brushed along the Avora's ribs. Nothing you experience on your walk will follow you to your waking life... Be silent! Her desire to give in to Kovac began to struggle with her need to keep her worlds separate. Inexplicably the base of her ribs began to ache in the very point Kovac had driven his own rib into her body during their walk. Not possible She tensed, wincing at no small amount of pain, even while her common sense tried to squash what could only be an imagined response to the intensely physical response she was having. Her mind still fought against the desires of her body and in her distraction, the passage to her bedroom occurred without note. Her feet met the floor as he gently set her down and once again she was returning a kiss that threw her senses into a spiral. The momentum seemed unstoppable; Unstoppable until the uncharacteristic act of a playful bite on her plush bottom lip sent a charge of energy from the pit of her stomach to the tip of every limb and she heard an audible gasp of pleasure leave her lips. Everything went still. Unconsciously, she pulled her lip into her mouth, riding the tip of her tongue along the very spot he'd bitten. Silence held them as the tenderness of his action had taken them both by surprise. She was not prepared for sweetness, for the gentle familiarity of a lover instead of the combatant that had so recently torn her from her bed. The fight had gone out of her, at least for the moment. " What do you want of me Kovac?" The sound of her voice seemed foreign even to her, it lacked the honey she used to hold people in her sway and there was a quiet honesty that would make it impossible to treat her casually. Strong hands still gripped her waist, and he was so close she could feel his heat radiating through her chemise. "I did nothing more than that which you asked of me." For a length of time unknown to her, she'd been holding her breath and finally, she blew it out softly through her pursed lips only to feel it reflect against Kovac's chest. The memory of her hand thrusting into his chest bled into her thoughts and she placed it flat on his chest to cover the spot she had ravaged. He was hot against her palm and she could feel the rhythmic pounding. As though she would administer some healing touch, she laid her other hand atop the first, pressing softly to better feel his steady beat. A pinprick of pain flared in her side and she smiled softly. "Somehow, we are connected now. It is a mystery to me." Reaching to her waist, she curled her long fingers around his wrist and lifted his hand while still holding his gaze with her gold ringed eyes. She guided his hand between fabric and flesh, pressing his palm to her heart. Her eyes slipped shut as she concentrated on the steady beating of their hearts, perfectly in sync through no influence of the dreamer. Her chest rose and fell with her breath as they stood like statues. So as not to disturb the steady beating or the softness of breath, she did not speak, but walked forward until the edge of her bed met the back of Kovac's knees. She lifted onto her toes to softly press her lips against his and then released her words with a breath that passed in near silence from her mouth to his. "I am going to bed. Please stay." There was an exquisite pause as she breathed in his warm breath before dragging her bottom lip lazily along his jaw. His hand was released while she gathered the hem of her chemise, lifted it over her head, and let it slip to the floor in a billowy pool. With breathtaking simplicity she stood there, watching his face, a lovely curl playing at the corners of her full lips. Before the chill of the room claimed her warmth, she returned to the softness of the rumpled fur blankets and settled herself along the wall. Tucked within the warmth of her bed she reached to reclaim his hand and simply held it; neither pulling nor pushing, but clearly inviting him to join her."Lay with me. Sleep with me. Let us both have a night of sweet dreams. " With a raised brow she caught her lip between her teeth an gave a small shake of her head. "Perhaps we can teach your heart and hands not to be such a bully, that perhaps those things you seek to take might be offered to you later, without hesitation." The core of her green eyes darkened, creating a glow in the golden rings, there would be no mistaking what the dreamer would suffer from Kovac from here on out. She invited the man, not the thief, nor the brute, the choice was his.