Closed The Gift of Thought [Vanator]

[Sybel]

23rd Day of Summer, 513 AV

The temperate summer evening was incomparable to anything she’d ever experienced in Eyktol. She’d been in the kitchen during the early afternoon, helping Cadra clean up the remnants of lunch. It’d been a little awkward at first, explaining her relationship to Vanator. But over time the two of them had developed a routine and it was smiling that they both worked alongside. Lunch had been venison, which was a treat for all of them – especially Dust, as deer fat made for particularly delicious suet cakes, or so she’d learned. She was cleaning up the brine mixture they’d used to marinate the meat when Cadra waved her off.

”You sure?” She asked, still amidst scrubbing the wooden bowl. ”Just go!” Cadra replied, tipping the object from Sybel’s hands and catching it. ”Cat-like reflexes.” What a truly terrible pun. The girl just shook her head. ”You’re something else. Go, put on the dress and surprise him already. He should be done work by now.” Sybel smiled warmly. ”Thanks for all your help, Cadra.” She nodded and got back to cleaning, gesturing alternately toward the door.

It made her feel good to become closer to Vanator’s children. It’d been easy to soften up Cadra, sharing a gender and all but Larik would be a bit harder. Sybel hadn’t worked out a plan just yet, but it’d come in time and under advisement from his Kelvic sister. She rushed back to her temporary living quarters and disrobed. Her body had grown suppler from proper nutrition and exercise, which was good. Anxiety blooming in the pit of her stomach, she slipped on the royal blue dress, silver belt and breezed out the door.

Then breezed right back in, having forgotten her gift. And then breezed out again. Sybel felt scatterbrained, juggling several variables all at once, the least of which was the outfit. It was form fitting and slightly off the shoulders, gathering at the hips and folding against her long legs. She was completely unused to wearing anything other than pants, so it was unnerving to walk in. The other thing being the gift, the price of which burned a tidy hole in her purse. But it’d been well worth it.

Approaching Vanator’s suite, she knocked in her usual fashion. Normally, she had a question or felt like stealing a kiss. This time, she was a tad more serious. Cadra and Kavala had given her invaluable advice on what he truly wanted. It was so nice to have other women around. There was a silence. Perhaps he was in the bath? Then again, perhaps not. She frowned, unable to decide what to do.

Eee!I can change the timestamp if it doesn't work for you!

[Vanator]

It had felt good to wash the grime and dust of the day from his skin. Kavala had included in the bath chamber soap and shampoos with a variety of appealing aromas, and using them was one of the few times the Drykas pampered himself. Back in his room, the scent of sandalwood and vanilla lingered on his skin as Vanator tugged on a pair of clean dark cotton pants, then slipped a simple white tunic on over his torso. Combing his damp locks out of his face, Vanator stepped over to the table and drank from a cup of wine he had taken with him to the bath. Deep red liquid painted his tongue and tingled down his throat. He paused, savoring the flavor. Though his days were usually set out with an agenda, a list of tasks that needed performed, his evening had no such plan. That is when the knock came to the door.

He was not expecting anyone. That was not necessarily true. Sybel was expected, or more accurately, anticipated. Her frequent visits were most welcome, and compelled the Drykas to keep his room neat and tidy, even if she were only to stop for a kiss. Walking to the door, the Denusk wondered again who came knocking. Van opened it, the sight of Sybel instantly drawing a wide smile across his face as his eyes met hers. Then, invariably, his gaze drifted down her form, during with his jaw dropped noticeably. He had never seen Sybel in a dress, one in the color of his clan no less. bronze shoulders barely peeked above the top of the light garment, the lay of the fabric complimenting her curves. His gaping mouth shut as his gaze traveled up again to meet her smiling eyes.

"Uh, hello!" He finally greeted her, stunned smile stuck on his face, staring at the beautiful woman. Van blinked, senses returning. "What, what brings you here..I mean, you look gorgeous Bel." Vanator had no idea what was going on, but it had to be special, Sybel looked amazing. Obviously taking the time to dress up for him, he stood there with wet hair, barefoot in common clothes.

[Sybel]

She laughed sweetly. It was fun, catching Vanator off-guard. It also helped that his eyes lingered as they slowly made their way south, fully appreciating the first gift she had to offer. Her lips curled around a brilliant smile. ”I thought I’d do something special for you,” she said, inhaling subtly. He was a heady mix of her favorite aromas. ”I’m glad you like it.” Hands behind her back (still hiding the more material gift) she leaned in to kiss his lips. The contact between them put her blood at a light simmer, and the mild taste of wine on his lips made her hunger for more. But not yet.

Sybel was not a woman to be distracted. Not when she had a plan, at least. ”Might I come in?’ She asked before breezing past him. ”I also have something else for you.” Settling on the backs of her heels, she produced the beautiful circlet from behind her back – a torc to be precise, fashioned out of solid gold. ”For you,” she said shyly, blushing a lovely shade of peach.

”I remembered Eachann having one. I checked with Kavala first, naturally, to see if you’d want it. I know you work hard to bring honor to your Father’s memory… Were he here, I think he’d like to see you wear this.” It rested against the base of her upturned palms, gleaming exuberantly in the candlelight. She smiled. ”You deserve it, Vanator Denusk.”

Of course, Kavala and Cadra had more of a hand in the dress she was wearing. Both should be inducted into the Pantheon for their insights. They’d be the Goddesses of Impromptu Gift-Giving. There were odder deities, to be sure. But Sybel couldn’t help but beam. She just smiled brightly, awaiting his reaction. It was obviously expensive, so there was a chance he’d recoil at the thought of the price. But money was irrelevant. It was his joy, his heart that she truly yearned for.

”Well? Do you like it?”

[Vanator]

Vanator was a protector, a warrior, and a veteran. He did not like to be caught off-guard. That was, unless it was Sybel. Her appearance at his door, clad in a beautiful dress, bode of something special, a surprise he welcomed even as it gave his gut a flutter. Their relationship had blossomed, or more accurately rekindled to a fire, rather quickly after they had made their peace on the beach below Sanctuary, agreeing to put the past behind them and cultivate the ardent love that still stirred between them. Both Sybel and Vanator agreed that they advance with care, and conducted themselves with some restraint, until the time things felt....ready. Stolen kisses, quiet dates, daily interactions over mundane chores and meals, had relaid a foundation for them to build upon. Things were going well, Van thought, very well.

It was obvious the woman was hiding something from his view, as a child would conceal a bug she discovered before revealing it to a parent. Vanator stepped aside, as Sybel didn't wait for permission to enter, she knew none was needed. Shutting the door behind her, the Drykas turned to find Sybel holding out a lovely golden torc. Van's mouth hovered agape for a moment as he stepped forward, reaching out to take the ornament from the Benshiran's hand. Slowly, a smile crept across his face that stretched his mouth wide. With the awe of a child, his amber-flecked dark gaze lifted to hers in disbelief. She remembered. She knew what it would mean to Vanator. It was finely crafted, something of great value, and cost.

"Bel," he spoke, almost in a hush. "Its beautiful. But...it...I..." He wanted to tell her it was too expensive, that she could not afford it. His gaze once again surveyed the woman in her entirety, before lighting again to her smiling, pale blue eyes. No. He would not scorn this incredible gift. Ever since her return, Sybel had spoke of Vanator raising to the status of his father, taking his place as the leader of the family. She spoke as if she were Drykas, and certainly a woman fitting for a Drykas man. It humbled him. "I love it!" he exclaimed, still holding the torc almost reverently.

Taking the golden circlet, Vanator placed it around his neck. Reaching for Sybel, Van pulled her into a firm embrace, speaking softly into her ear. "Thank you Bel, it is a wonderful gift. I hope I will be worthy of it, and my father's memory. You have no idea how much this means to me. Gods I love you." He pressed a kiss to her lips before stepping back again, his hands sliding down her lithe arms, taking her hands in his. Lifting his chin slightly to ensure she could easily see her gift around his neck, Van asked, "How does it look?"

[Sybel]

His reaction was more than gratifying. It was perfect. He stared for a moment, clearly in shock as her smile grew. At first there was a bit of protest, but he stopped short, unable to criticize her generosity. The cost was irrelevant, the sentiment worth so much more. It was priceless; it was her was of saying she understood. Vanator placed it around his neck, where it belonged. She beamed. He looked like a true Ankal, and things were suddenly as they should be.

She shivered at his touch, his kiss. His eyes were ocher and smooth. ”And I love you,” she replied shyly. Love was a term she was unfamiliar with, but still wholly appropriate. ”You look truly handsome,” she answered, before adding: ”Good enough to eat.” His kisses again, were enticingly flavored. Everything about him was enticing. Sybel had been gifted with iron resolve, which at the moment, was slowly rusting away at the sight of him. Her eyes narrowed.

”Ever seen a Benshira dance?”

She knew it was a loaded proposition. Oh, she knew alright. The reason women learned to dance in her culture was specifically to find a husband – and, in a very special way. There were other folk dances and traditions, but the most sacred of which were for seduction, intimacy between man and wife. They weren’t married but Sybel didn’t feel particularly Benshira, either. She allowed herself a wicked grin.

It seemed she was feeling very uninhibited that night. This part, she’d only spoken to Kavala about and only because they were both shameless old women at heart. She’d gotten some very interesting advice, and she had no idea what to do with it. So she decided to start with something she knew and allow him to unravel from there. After all, they were his secrets to tell.

”I thought another gift might be in order. To show my gratitude, I mean.” She gazed at him coquettishly.

[Vanator]

Vanator was still stunned by the gift of the torc, both at its apparent value and the great consideration put into selecting the particular item, knowing the sentimental meaning it would possess for her Drykas companion. He fingered the torc frequently, unused to the feel of it around his neck, but also a tangible appreciation of its significance. The Denusk was not certain what inspired the sudden giving of the beautiful gift. Not that Van had not been working on a gift of his own, but it would pale next to what Sybel had given him.

An aura surrounded the dress-adorned woman that evening, a femininity laced with a subtle sensuality. Sybel was a very desirable woman under normal circumstance, but the Benshiran was also a woman of the world, rugged and sword-ready, willing and able to perform physical labor with the other residents. Those traits in themselves endeared her to the earthy Drykas man, who was as excited by a woman's spirit and weapon arm as much as the taste of her kiss and her skill in the furs. But that night, Sybel exuded womanly charm, fluid seductive grace, all for him, and just for him. The notion excited Vanator greatly.

Sybel's inquring regarding Benshiran dance intrigued Vanator. He knew enough to understand what the girl meant, though he had never seen her perform any dance in the style of her people. Sybel had disassociated herself from that culture for the most part. But the promising azure gaze she offered, the lilt in her alto voice as she teased him about another gift, ensured Vanator that he was to see something the likes of which he hand Sybel never shared.

Kavala had only recently completed her own gift for Vanator. An expanded suite, with room, oddly enough, for two to dwell comfortably. The Konti was not very subtle. His sister hinted that she was not yet finished, with more to come. Van had moved into the larger quarters, the floor providing plenty of room to spread out the skins of both lions he had slain in the Fall. The Denusk did not have the skill to preserve the heads, but he had removed the canine teeth, both sets which set on a table nearby. A weapons rack housed his axes and bows, a small wardrobe held his clothes, and a large bed rested with its headboard against one wall. Though the supernatural lighting was sufficient, Vanator kept a couple braziers burning. He liked the light of fire, as well as the aroma. It helped make the underground room more outdoorsy. Now, as if only one important element was missing from the suite, Sybel had stalked in.

Vanator's hands seemed unwilling or unable to resist touching the soft fabric and flesh of his love, a hand brushing her arm, a finger trailing her thigh, a deep breath drawn as his face leaned towards her silky black mane. What other gifts had the golden-skinned desert girl brought? Vanator's mind raced, as it had for over a tenday since the beach, at the prospect of being with Sybel. If asked at that moment, Van would have not only said it was due time, he would have said it was the perfect place too.

"I have not seen a Benshiran dance," The Denusk replied slyly. "Though I hear they are skilled in using their bodies very expressively." The lured man took one of Sybel's hands and raised it to his lips, kissing the back, and then opening it to kiss her palm. "I don't know what I have done to earn this much gratitude, I hope I can figure it out! I am feeling very grateful myself, to the gods for bringing you here, and to you, Bel, for staying." He teased, a warm smile on his lips, eyes dancing with affection and anticipation.

[Sybel]

”You’ve earned it by being you.” Sybel’s eyes shone in the glow of the braziers, nostrils flaring subtly at the delightful aroma. He was far more comfortable touching her now it seemed, one hand tracing the curve of her elbow while the other headed a little farther south. At the brush of his lips she trembled, ever so slightly, teeth folding over her lip. This was already a good idea and they had only just begun.

Drawing back slightly, the silver belt draped about her midsection chimed, as did the anklet hidden just above her leather sandals. No other words were needed; Sybel could speak just as easily with her body as she could with her mind. It’d been too long since she felt she could show this side of herself. ”If you can keep a beat, clap.” She grinned, having no frame of reference for whether or not he had any rhythm to begin with.

Shifting subtly, she raised her arms and began to roll her hips from side to side, causing the silver to peal with each move. Sybel began to lift her skirts here and there, eyes never leaving his for long, expression that of a starved wildcat. To dance for him was strangely exhibitionistic, yet it felt right. This was her man and this was how she’d been taught to please him. She slowly bent over backwards, hair a midnight waterfall, muscles taut as she slithered back into place.

Before long she was becoming wilder, fueled by his obvious desire. Sybel pulled one leg up by the heel, revealing a great deal of bronze flesh as it lingered near the top of her shoulder. The strain of it sent electricity down her spine, muscles unraveling and pulling apart. She strut about the room, the flat beat of his hands and the musicality of her own adornments filling the air.

What was that look? Sybel paused, running one thin hand through the tangle of her hair. It was difficult to tell what effect her dancing had. Perhaps he was seduced, or perhaps, just entranced. As always they were on the edge of a blade, teetering from one side to the next. But that look in his eyes wouldn’t relent and abruptly, she stopped.

She strode over, brazen as could be and tried to ease him into a sitting position, intending to slide atop his lap. Sybel had always been his, even when they were apart. Knowing he was alive, feeling his kiss everyday… She was done with space and restraint. Damn all the virtues to the web.

It was high time they slaked this thirst.

"Vanator," she crooned at his ear.

[Vanator]

In the privacy of his suite, Vanator was not unlike a child with candy. In his opinion, he had done nothing special worthy of the treat Sybel offered. She was revealing a side of herself Vanator had not seen, not in full. There was a sense of the forbidden in the private visit, though there was certainly no restrictions on the two adults. If anything, the other residents of the Sanctuary encouraged the Drykas and the Benshiran to advance upon each other, the entire facility seemingly sensing the tension that had built up between them. The larger suite was certainly part of that scheme.

Still, the fact that this special dance was to be performed only for him, an act of exhibitionism that was already draped in seduction, gave it the smack of sin, and Vanator found that very exciting. Sybel withdrew further into the room, encouraging her lover to create the beat to which she would perform. Vanator could not rid himself of the smile that fixed to is features, one of anticipation and rich affection for the raven-haired woman. He began to clap out a rhythm, a steady but unrushed beat that allowed Sybel's gyrating pelvis to move fluidly. The tinkling of the silver belt and anklet joined in the music, adding to his even pace. Though the piercing pale blue of her ardent gaze fixed upon his sparkling gold-flecked eyes, Vanator could not resist the glances down her shifting form, strong but delicate hands hiking up the hem of he light skirt to reveal long, lean legs. The Dyrkas had to ease his clapping, the rate of the percussion starting to increase with the quickening pace of his heartbeat. Falling into a firm rhythm, he allowed is attention to feed on the lithe woman.

Sybel arched backwards, head cast back, before her taut core lifted the torso upright again, the dark from of her long hair falling roguishly around the bronzed beauty of Bel's features, and again the captivating gaze seized upon Vanator's. for so long, the Drykas had thought of Sybel, being with her. The powerful pull was always their, the tension, the knowledge that they both wanted it very, very much. Now, he stood, almost weak-kneed, as the jewel of his heart glided across the floor of his room, her supple body bending and flexing sensually, posturing erotically, was like casting oil on a long burning flame. Vanator's heart pounded at his chest from excitement, his breathing shallow, the blood rushing through his body almost palpable. Sybel would not leave this room the way she came in.

Adrenaline propelled through Vanator's body, igniting every nerve as Sybel stalked towards him like a hungry lioness. The veteran horseman was nearly undone by the woman's randy performance, the wanton Sybel he had never seen before. Little coaxing was required to move him into the chair, the loud staccato of his clapping hands ceased as the reddened palms reached more readily for the swell of Sybel's hips, all but pulling her onto his lap. By now, his arousal was evident, Sybel's intent unmistaken, their agreed course of action loudly apparent without a word. But one word was spoken. One honeyed word blown into Vanator's ear, his own name, voiced in Sybel's hungry alto tone, undid the man. There was no turning back, as they had so many times. Seasons of pent up passion released like the breaching of a great dam. It was all Vanator could do to not simply throw Sybel to the lion skin rug and take her like a rutting animal.

But this wine had aged too long to be choked down so carelessly. Vanator wanted to savor the enthralling Benshiran, experience her like an undiscovered country, feel every valley and cresting hill, drink from every pool, explore every hidden place. One more desperately wanting glance into her eyes and he breathed out a husky reply. "I love you Bel." Then Van leaned forward to press his mouth to hers. It was a hungry kiss that did not linger against closed lips, but sought the parting of her full pillows so that he could deepen it with the eager caress of his tongue against hers. Firm hands on her hips pulled Sybel shamelessly closer, then slipped from the curves of her waist to brush along the smooth skin of her thighs beneath the dress. A soft moan escaped Vanator's throat. He was taking what he had always wanted, needed really.

[Sybel]

His expression of love was made soft against the thunder of her heartbeat. Both arms wound snugly around his neck as her lips made way, giving him purchase to plunder and taste. The intimacy sent streaks of pleasure through her brain, straight to her heart. This was all that she’d ever desired - years before she merely dreamt, aching for him in the frigid, dark night. To think it was real… Thighs parted, allowing his searching hands to travel at their leisure.

Their kiss broke so that she might make her own discoveries, lips trailing down the line of his jaw to the crook of his neck, all the while teasing at the ruddy flesh. That scent – his essence - was so intoxicating, she nearly swooned. Her hands began to act, searching for seams, looking for ways to undo that which stood between them. They pulled at the fabric of his shirt, peeling upward so she might reveal his roped chest.

They continued their journey then elsewhere, seeking what truly marked him as man. Sybel had never gone so far, yet she felt no trepidation. Merely the blazing heat as it pooled at her center, pleasure keening at each point of contact. This dance was not over, no, it’d only just begun. As she found her prize, she trembled, flushing with delight.

And a small giggle came unbidden. She was tittering like a girl.

”Ah,” she said, with a contrite grin. ”You’re…” She felt no need to finish that particular sentence. Instead, she curled her fingers around him, eager to demonstrate her affections.

Sybel leaned back in, nipping at the space behind his ear. Her breath played about his skin, raising gooseflesh as it went. He worked so hard each day to care for his family and this would be her reward, every night if he so chose. Each touch, each caress was payback for the kindness he gave. And to that, her grasping hand slid beneath fabric to further the sentiment.

She licked her lips.

”I love you too, Van.” She breathed, digits gripping lightly.

[Vanator]

For a long chime, the lovers poured the heat of their unleashed desire into their oral embrace, tasting one another, tongues dancing, writhing wantonly as hungry lips parted to deepen the entanglement. But the kiss would not contain what Van and Bel had kindled, the Benshiran seductress trailed needy kisses down the sensitive flesh of the man' s neck. Vanator tilted his neck slightly, offering himself to Sybel. At the coaxing up of his shirt, Vanator's hands slid from Sybel's thighs long enough to allow the woman to tug off the garment. The Drykas' hands resumed their own exploration, slipping again beneath the hem of her hiked dress, calloused hands sliding further up her long legs to feel the tender skin at the soft swell of her hips. No fabric hindered the Denusk's exploration as splayed hands pressed against warm flesh, fingers brushing where the generous curve of her arse began.

Vanator's attention snapped to the woman's hands as they found his manhood through his garment, Sybel's sensuality having already coaxed it to fullness. Her confident touch sent a hot thrill through Van's nerves and fanned the heat burning at his core, just behind the base of her current object of affection. His fingers flexed against her soft rear, gently gripping possessively what he was claiming as his. The desert beauty leaned in again close to her man, taunting him with warm breath and pearly teeth, electrifying Vanator's entire body. Effortlessly, Sybel's slender hand slipped through the garment to wrap supple digits around him. The simple grasp nearly undid the Drykas. A hungry hum resonated in Vanator's throat as his lover in turn claimed him, heavy-lidded eyes struggling to find the sky-blue irises, lust and love swimming in union amidst the gold-flecks of his hazel glance.

As she held him, breathing her love for him, Van knew there would be no turning back. Had Zurav himself stormed in and ensnared them in a fierce whirlwind, Vanator would not let go of Sybel, would strive with all his being to bring his long languishing desires to fruition upon the woman he loved as they were lifted violently into the sky.

Vanator, in turn, leaned in, insistent grasp on her pulling Sybel closer to him as she straddled his lap. Eager lips pressed against the column of her neck, tasting tender flesh, leaving a slick trail down to the soft ridge of Sybel's collarbone and following its line with warm kisses. A daring hand released is fleshy hold beneath her dress and snaked up between them to press against her breast gently. The woman's garment, once an element that lent itself to Sybel's allure, was now and obstacle to his further exploration.

Reluctant to lose the riveting clutch of her hand around him, Van coaxed Sybel to stand. The last barriers between them needed to come down. Deftly standing with her, the Drykas flashed Sybel a roguish grin, then laid hold of her dress, slipping the fabric off of the bronzed, soft angle of her shoulder. A raised brow suggested she rid him from his breeches as well. The task was rich with significance to Vanator, the revelation of Sybel in her natural glory, the last of secrets Sybel held from her man to be unveiled before his adoring eyes. The blue garment slid over Sybel's generous contour like water as it pooled at their feet. The Drykas sucked in a breath between his teeth as he saw Sybel, all of her, for the first time. She was statuesque, curvaceous but lean. Golden-hued skin that was not perfect, but flawed with a few small scars that suggested she was not a pampered kitten. To a Drykas, those scars were as attractive as the flawless bow of her lips and the crystal clear azure of her eyes.

A fluttering tightness gripped Vanator at his core as he greedily drank in the woman. Strong hands lifted to cradle her cheeks, gaze lost in hers. His touch slid down her neck to brush across her chest and over the generous globes, cupping for a moment before curling to her sides and finding again the feminine angles of her hips. The tactile journey was like the hook of addiction, the pads of Van's fingers drawing fuel for his want with every smooth inch he covered, the bold stature of his manhood straining to demonstrate his approval. For a long moment, Vanator stood before Sybel, man and woman, as if Cheva had carved them from stone and breathed into them the heart of passion until they were living, loving flesh.