The thirty-first day of winter 514 AV
Noven. He had been the prevailing focus of his mental wanderings for the past six days. While he hadn't tried very hard in the beginning to keep his mind from playing and replaying their encounter and speechless understanding, Keene had begun to find his preoccupation to be a problem. Noven had requested that, while in the presence of the other Scars, they act "natural" - in which case he had explained in a more succinct summary to "not tell Bitzer". If Noven required something of him, Keene had little issue accepting the terms of the request, unfortunately it turned out that accepting and applying were two different things. He'd never felt about another person in the way he felt about Noven, and there was still so much he had yet to explore within the relationship. Unfortunately, there were things that had to be done, and time for just the two of them wasn't easily found, nor did it ever remain as such. It had become difficult as of the past few days to see Noven without his heart rate rising and breath becoming shorter - telltale signs that he supposed even the most oblivious of people might pair with the stimulus.
Thus, Keene had taken it upon himself to avoid Noven. It wasn't so much he didn't want to see him as it was he just wasn't sure he'd be able to control himself if he did. It was an odd thing, the physical compulsions of one's body when presented with a subject so incredibly tantalizing. Despite his brain's logical understanding that no good would come from him engaging Noven as he had in spotty forests to the west of the citadel, his body merely wanted to experience the swimming mix of searing pain and addictive pleasure. It was a problem, and Keene was dealing with it. The Gibbat dogs had provided a practical enough distraction, though he had had to take his leave early. He found the situation a bit ridiculous, mostly due to his own questionable self-control, but he had yet to break.
The morning found him calmly making his way down to the prairie as had become his routine. In spite of the myriad, lurking dangers the grounds held, there was a deceptive peacefulness that Keene utilized for self-solace. Having not been back to the caverns since the Scars had arrived, Keene had been unable to engage in his daily practices in quite the same way as he had under the careful eye of his master. Instead, he'd been alone, for the most part, exercising mind and body in the seclusion of the swaying grasses that expanded out towards the eastern edge of the island. A small sweat had broken out at the sides of his temples as Keene made his way from the gentle slope of the trail that wrapped its way back up to the Vestibule; his eyes flitting over the immediate area in a practiced manner to spot any sorts of unusual movement or danger. Finding little more than a particularly decrepit looking nuit with two Pulser attendants (apprentices or test subjects, it was difficult to tell them apart even on a good day), Keene made his way opposite them.
His boots softly knocked aside the grasses, light of step even when it was not required of him. He had moved with a deemphasis on sound since he was too young to remember, and it had served him well as he had moved into adulthood. Still, it was difficult to move soundlessly through the rustle of the grasses as the shivered against his leathered legs that passed between them. It was a reflection of his own mind: while he wanted to keep the memories of Noven clear, he didn't want to be affected by them to the extent that they seemed to have. Yet, his desire to remain level-headed while traversing the wild mental landscape was near impossible by its very nature. A small sigh escaped his lips, drifting into the muggy air as he continued along his way. It was the first time he'd allowed himself to mull over something for so long without taking any true course of action.
His time with Noven had been the only time he'd ever just lost himself to desire - sexual and emotional -, and while it had certainly been a wild ride, it was a ride that was over. His life was not conducive to flights of fancy - or really fancy of any manner. While his heart, the abstract emotional center of his psyche as it were, was fully captivated by the dark, amber hold of Noven's gaze, Keene's mind found the attraction appealing but unnecessary. For one, the man wasn't going to be on the island for much longer, which, in the grand scheme of things, was certainly for the better. When Mella had died, it had felt as if the world had ended, but he had been able to carry on through through what she left behind, her legacy in him. If Noven were to perish at the merciless claws of Sahova's multifaceted dangers, Keene knew full well he would die right along with him, whether it be in spirit alone or body combined. It was better that they remain separated, that Noven return to Sunberth and the two of them stay an ocean apart. He was a weakness that Keene had zero control over, a liability so great and unprecedented, safety could only be found in Noven's absence.
The thoughts sent small, aching shivers down his spine and through his stomach, but his mind was resolute. Whatever time they could spend together before he left would be enough. It would have to be enough. In fact, the single night and subsequent morning were both more than he had ever thought he would experience and more than he imagined he ever would. He found that he was grateful to Noven in the most intimate meaning of the word possible. The feelings, however messy, unpredictable, and strange were also some of the most powerful and moving he had ever experienced. It was a new facet to life, something that, had he not been willingly subjected to it, he would have never been able to even comprehend. He didn't understand it, and even with all the time in the world, if the two of them were at peace to exist with just each other for an indeterminate amount of time, Keene was certain he would be no closer to understanding than he already was.
Grey-green eyes moved towards the sky, a frown playing at his lips as he scanned the cloudy firmament. He was fully aware he was rationalizing Noven's departure. He didn't want it to happen. He wanted him to stay. Want, want, want. The word had been plaguing his mind and thoughts since he'd allowed himself to succumb to it. It would take time to get himself back under control - yet another reasonable reason for Noven to take his leave. Magic was difficult enough to progress in without constantly thinking about the curve of another man's back or the sensation of his lips against one's skin. It was distracting, and the fact that the source of such things was close enough to touch on a daily basis - yet forbidden - made it all the worse.
Removing his loose fitting shirt so that the fabric wouldn't get in his way as he moved, Keene folded it carefully and set it to the side, the grasses not quite giving way beneath the minimal weight of the clothing, holding it partially aloft. With a slow, steady exhale, Keene lowered himself into his fighting stance: knees bent, left foot forward, body angled, hands at the ready. Keeping his motions slow and as fluid as was possible for him, Keene moved through the various strikes, first only with his upper body then with the complimentary steps. He continued on for a while in that fashion, warming his body up to the movements that he had begun to grow accustomed to. With a sharp his of effort, he twisted his torso as his right hand shot forward with a quick, straight punch that was hastily followed up by a jab from the left. He ducked, wove, and circled around his imaginary enemy, senses somewhat dulled to his surroundings as he focused upon the invisible adversary.
Physical exertion, as taxing as it was, was something that had a sort of meditative calming effect on him. His mind settled down to focus on movement, precision, efficiency, blocking out the rest of the world and its distractors enough that while he was aware there was no pressing danger, the actual details of the environment were little more than a cognitive blur. Instead, his focus was inward, each punch or kick or knee directed at the frustrating knot of emotion in his stomach, something that had been tied the tick his lips had pressed against Noven's own, perhaps even before that. He moved at a steady pace, emphasizing his form over his speed purely due to his lack of experience. His muscles had begun to memorize the motions, cementing them into themselves for faster action and reaction, but he was far from proficient. Sweat clung to his skin in a sticky film as the morning progressed, light filtering down through the clouds in an increasingly brighter shade of grey. He didn't notice Noven's presence until his kick into into a roundhouse turned him to face the dark young man.
His grey green eyes flashed with a hint of surprise and - in spite of his efforts - pleasure at seeing his thoughts made flesh before they flicked to either side of him and beyond, searching for either Bitzer or Palaren in his wake somewhere. Spotting neither, Keene straighted his posture some, his hands falling in a controlled sweep to his sides as he gave Noven a nod of his head in greeting, breath coming in face paced, steady rate. "You're up early." The statement was calm, perhaps a bit more forced than usual as he was short on breathe, but still it was sincere. Noven was not an earlier riser, nor was he much of one for morning activities beyond the groggy act of consuming breakfast. To find him on the prairie was surprise enough without the factor of time. Running a hand through his neatly cropped hair, Keene's face fell into a soft frown as he regarded Noven, eyes not quite as a stoic and reserved as they were with others. He was in control, certainly, but his heart still beat hot against his chest for reasons beyond the bell or so of training. "I have..." He drew a breath, finding the sentimentality of what he was saying not quite ridiculous enough to stay his tongue. "Been thinking about you. Extensively."
His frown deepened as he continued, the confidence in his voice having waned as he wasn't quite certain what he was saying. "What do you do? When something-" He paused. "Someone makes thinking about anything else..." Again, he eyed Noven, though this time, there was a hint of appreciation for the man's features, something that Keene found even more enticing in the flesh than in memory alone. His frown deepened. "Difficult."
