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“Captain,” Arktos bent over him, gathering his limp form against him once more. Lukos tried again to shove away but Arktos stood, glancing around at the crew and village women now coming onto the beach. The big man was hardly aware when Thalia took off and Lukos not at all, having slipped back into unconsciousness. Rather than bring him to the temple, Arktos and the others took him to the village instead. He was carried into Frona’s house where the men were summarily shoved outside.
Frona and a few of the other women, including Pallas, stripped him of his wet clothes, and worked on warming him quickly. He shook violently. Pallas stooped by the small brick oven and started a fire but it would not be hot quickly enough. While Frona prepared incense and herbs, two women lay on either side of him, lending him their body heat but he continued to tremble as though they weren’t there.
Hours passed. Frona passed the incense over him several times before placing the fragrant, burning brush on a little altar in the corner of the house. After this, she knelt by his side, her hands splayed out on his chest, feeling the crackle as he breathed in and out in a shallow rhythm. As Arktos had done, she pinched his nose and breathed into his mouth. At that, his arms came up, attempting to push her away but it seemed to be what he needed. After that, he started to breathe deeper on his own.
Arktos paced outside, tense with agitation. He looked for Thalia but she was nowhere in sight. That was odd. From what he understood about the situation, her first wish should have been to be with Lukos. The great bear’s mind began to turn but it didn’t head immediately in a nefarious direction. After all, she was the one who had pulled the captain out of the water. It was she who had screamed for help. But what had happened?
Why was the captain in the lagoon at all? He’d never seen him swim. So far as he knew, the man detested water. Whatever happened, the girl had something to do with it and he wanted to know what.
“Find the captain’s whore,” he ordered but no one was able to obey. They combed the island, even going so far as to send poor Gorgoa back into the temple but no one was able to find Thalia. Arktos swore. Clearly she was a witch of some kind; able to appear and disappear at will.
Inside Frona’s house, Lukos remained in and out of consciousness until nightfall when he finally rested in the healing effects of real sleep. The women took turns, watching him throughout the night, ensuring that the hut was hot and checked constantly to make sure he still breathed. By morning, he was awake, weakened severely, but had lost none of his stubbornness.
“Captain!” Frona’s exasperation had reached its boiling point as Lukos pulled on his now dry clothes.
“I’m fine,” he lied. Every breath hurt like his ribs had been cracked. From the feel of it, they probably had been. His memory of the entire event was gone, except for uneasy snippets. The feeling of sucking in water was permanently etched in his mind and would stalk his nightmares for a while. Free falling through the air, watching as the window fell away from view until all he could see was sky before he crashed beneath the water.
Frona misread the shudder. “You’re not fit to walk. Sit down.”
He stared at her, holding his side, barefoot, and immoveable in his mission to leave this hut. The way these people felt about his temple was the way he felt about the village. Being here made him anxious. It reminded him of times that made his skin crawl and put hard knots of anxiety in his stomach as though more than twenty years had not elapsed between then and now.
“Have Gorgoa bring food,” he said as he eased himself out of the doorway. The women flapped after him but he didn’t stop. They tugged on his shirt and drug him backwards and not even his worst glare could stop them until Arktos forced them to leave him alone. Lukos ignored Arktos’s offered arm, shoving past him and stumbling on his own up the path. The bear stumped after him.
“We can’t find your-”
“If you call her my whore one more time,” Lukos panted, stopping and grasping his side harder. Gods it hurt to breathe. “I’ll let her at you again.”
“What happened?” Arktos asked, watching with evident mounting concern Lukos began the slow trek up the hill.
Lukos gritted his teeth, fighting the fire in his side and the spots swimming across his vision. He glanced back at Arktos and opened his mouth to tell him that Phaedra had tried to kill him. There was every reason in the world to loose the dogs of war at her but instead, he shut his mouth again and shrugged. “Accident.”
Arktos nodded, seemingly satisfied with this but returned to the problem at hand. “She’s nowhere.”
“Maybe she threw herself in the ocean.” They were midway up the hill. He was bent over, his hands on his knees, squinting up at the temple. It was so frustratingly far. Damn her.
“I’ll have the men check the rocks. Maybe tide brought her back in,” Arktos said uneasily.
“Don’t bother,” Lukos pushed up, walking slowly again. “Nothing can kill her. If she threw herself into the ocean, Poseidon took her and made her a fish. The gods love that woman.” Damned if I know why, he thought bitterly. No part of him thought she had killed herself. She wouldn’t deny him the pleasure of getting his hooks into her first. Yet, even as he had the thought of putting his hands around her throat, he was too tired even in his mind to go through with it. If she met him on the path right now, he’d probably just hold out his arms and let her finish what she’d started.
It took him a long time with Arktos playing nanny, trailing behind him but at last he made it up the hill. “When you find her,” Lukos said, easing himself down on the stairs. He gave his bear a dark look that warned away the coddling that the man was clearly working up to. “Bring her to me.”
“What…” Arktos began and then rephrased his question. “Did she have anything to do with...yesterday?”
“Just bring her to me,” his tone brooked no more argument or questions. Because of the persistent superstition of the temple, Arktos made no move to follow the captain when he finally clambered to his feet and drifted up the stairs onto the portico.
“Aye, Captain. I’ll be back to check on you,” Arktos began to stump away.
“Stay away,” Lukos said over his shoulder as he pushed open the door.
“With all due respect, Captain,” Arktos turned back around. “I’m going to ignore that order. See you in a few hours.”
Lukos tried to glare at the other man as he left but he just watched him blankly instead, not really understanding why Arktos was doing this. Why any of them had bothered. If they’d let him die, then likely Arktos would be captain. All the gold and the ship, and even Phaedra would have been his. Yet, so the women had told him, Arktos had tried harder than anyone to save him and he couldn’t understand it.
Once inside, he shut the door, placing himself in cool, semi darkness. No one was here and he hadn’t really expected her to be here either. He shrugged out of his shirt but left his pants on as he shuffled to the bed, burying himself in it. Her scent still lingered on it. Reaching out, he shoved her pillow hard so that it fell off the other side and then he closed his eyes.
Slowly, his eyes slid back open and he eased himself so that he was laying across the bed, his arm dangling over the side, fishing for the pillow until he found it. Drawing it back up onto the bed, he replaced it where it had been before going back to his own side. He let his eyes slide shut but just before exhaustion took over, he tugged her pillow to him and buried his nose against it, finally falling into oblivion.
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“Captain,” Arktos bent over him, gathering his limp form against him once more. Lukos tried again to shove away but Arktos stood, glancing around at the crew and village women now coming onto the beach. The big man was hardly aware when Thalia took off and Lukos not at all, having slipped back into unconsciousness. Rather than bring him to the temple, Arktos and the others took him to the village instead. He was carried into Frona’s house where the men were summarily shoved outside.
Frona and a few of the other women, including Pallas, stripped him of his wet clothes, and worked on warming him quickly. He shook violently. Pallas stooped by the small brick oven and started a fire but it would not be hot quickly enough. While Frona prepared incense and herbs, two women lay on either side of him, lending him their body heat but he continued to tremble as though they weren’t there.
Hours passed. Frona passed the incense over him several times before placing the fragrant, burning brush on a little altar in the corner of the house. After this, she knelt by his side, her hands splayed out on his chest, feeling the crackle as he breathed in and out in a shallow rhythm. As Arktos had done, she pinched his nose and breathed into his mouth. At that, his arms came up, attempting to push her away but it seemed to be what he needed. After that, he started to breathe deeper on his own.
Arktos paced outside, tense with agitation. He looked for Thalia but she was nowhere in sight. That was odd. From what he understood about the situation, her first wish should have been to be with Lukos. The great bear’s mind began to turn but it didn’t head immediately in a nefarious direction. After all, she was the one who had pulled the captain out of the water. It was she who had screamed for help. But what had happened?
Why was the captain in the lagoon at all? He’d never seen him swim. So far as he knew, the man detested water. Whatever happened, the girl had something to do with it and he wanted to know what.
“Find the captain’s whore,” he ordered but no one was able to obey. They combed the island, even going so far as to send poor Gorgoa back into the temple but no one was able to find Thalia. Arktos swore. Clearly she was a witch of some kind; able to appear and disappear at will.
Inside Frona’s house, Lukos remained in and out of consciousness until nightfall when he finally rested in the healing effects of real sleep. The women took turns, watching him throughout the night, ensuring that the hut was hot and checked constantly to make sure he still breathed. By morning, he was awake, weakened severely, but had lost none of his stubbornness.
“Captain!” Frona’s exasperation had reached its boiling point as Lukos pulled on his now dry clothes.
“I’m fine,” he lied. Every breath hurt like his ribs had been cracked. From the feel of it, they probably had been. His memory of the entire event was gone, except for uneasy snippets. The feeling of sucking in water was permanently etched in his mind and would stalk his nightmares for a while. Free falling through the air, watching as the window fell away from view until all he could see was sky before he crashed beneath the water.
Frona misread the shudder. “You’re not fit to walk. Sit down.”
He stared at her, holding his side, barefoot, and immoveable in his mission to leave this hut. The way these people felt about his temple was the way he felt about the village. Being here made him anxious. It reminded him of times that made his skin crawl and put hard knots of anxiety in his stomach as though more than twenty years had not elapsed between then and now.
“Have Gorgoa bring food,” he said as he eased himself out of the doorway. The women flapped after him but he didn’t stop. They tugged on his shirt and drug him backwards and not even his worst glare could stop them until Arktos forced them to leave him alone. Lukos ignored Arktos’s offered arm, shoving past him and stumbling on his own up the path. The bear stumped after him.
“We can’t find your-”
“If you call her my whore one more time,” Lukos panted, stopping and grasping his side harder. Gods it hurt to breathe. “I’ll let her at you again.”
“What happened?” Arktos asked, watching with evident mounting concern Lukos began the slow trek up the hill.
Lukos gritted his teeth, fighting the fire in his side and the spots swimming across his vision. He glanced back at Arktos and opened his mouth to tell him that Phaedra had tried to kill him. There was every reason in the world to loose the dogs of war at her but instead, he shut his mouth again and shrugged. “Accident.”
Arktos nodded, seemingly satisfied with this but returned to the problem at hand. “She’s nowhere.”
“Maybe she threw herself in the ocean.” They were midway up the hill. He was bent over, his hands on his knees, squinting up at the temple. It was so frustratingly far. Damn her.
“I’ll have the men check the rocks. Maybe tide brought her back in,” Arktos said uneasily.
“Don’t bother,” Lukos pushed up, walking slowly again. “Nothing can kill her. If she threw herself into the ocean, Poseidon took her and made her a fish. The gods love that woman.” Damned if I know why, he thought bitterly. No part of him thought she had killed herself. She wouldn’t deny him the pleasure of getting his hooks into her first. Yet, even as he had the thought of putting his hands around her throat, he was too tired even in his mind to go through with it. If she met him on the path right now, he’d probably just hold out his arms and let her finish what she’d started.
It took him a long time with Arktos playing nanny, trailing behind him but at last he made it up the hill. “When you find her,” Lukos said, easing himself down on the stairs. He gave his bear a dark look that warned away the coddling that the man was clearly working up to. “Bring her to me.”
“What…” Arktos began and then rephrased his question. “Did she have anything to do with...yesterday?”
“Just bring her to me,” his tone brooked no more argument or questions. Because of the persistent superstition of the temple, Arktos made no move to follow the captain when he finally clambered to his feet and drifted up the stairs onto the portico.
“Aye, Captain. I’ll be back to check on you,” Arktos began to stump away.
“Stay away,” Lukos said over his shoulder as he pushed open the door.
“With all due respect, Captain,” Arktos turned back around. “I’m going to ignore that order. See you in a few hours.”
Lukos tried to glare at the other man as he left but he just watched him blankly instead, not really understanding why Arktos was doing this. Why any of them had bothered. If they’d let him die, then likely Arktos would be captain. All the gold and the ship, and even Phaedra would have been his. Yet, so the women had told him, Arktos had tried harder than anyone to save him and he couldn’t understand it.
Once inside, he shut the door, placing himself in cool, semi darkness. No one was here and he hadn’t really expected her to be here either. He shrugged out of his shirt but left his pants on as he shuffled to the bed, burying himself in it. Her scent still lingered on it. Reaching out, he shoved her pillow hard so that it fell off the other side and then he closed his eyes.
Slowly, his eyes slid back open and he eased himself so that he was laying across the bed, his arm dangling over the side, fishing for the pillow until he found it. Drawing it back up onto the bed, he replaced it where it had been before going back to his own side. He let his eyes slide shut but just before exhaustion took over, he tugged her pillow to him and buried his nose against it, finally falling into oblivion.
“Captain,” Arktos bent over him, gathering his limp form against him once more. Lukos tried again to shove away but Arktos stood, glancing around at the crew and village women now coming onto the beach. The big man was hardly aware when Thalia took off and Lukos not at all, having slipped back into unconsciousness. Rather than bring him to the temple, Arktos and the others took him to the village instead. He was carried into Frona’s house where the men were summarily shoved outside.
Frona and a few of the other women, including Pallas, stripped him of his wet clothes, and worked on warming him quickly. He shook violently. Pallas stooped by the small brick oven and started a fire but it would not be hot quickly enough. While Frona prepared incense and herbs, two women lay on either side of him, lending him their body heat but he continued to tremble as though they weren’t there.
Hours passed. Frona passed the incense over him several times before placing the fragrant, burning brush on a little altar in the corner of the house. After this, she knelt by his side, her hands splayed out on his chest, feeling the crackle as he breathed in and out in a shallow rhythm. As Arktos had done, she pinched his nose and breathed into his mouth. At that, his arms came up, attempting to push her away but it seemed to be what he needed. After that, he started to breathe deeper on his own.
Arktos paced outside, tense with agitation. He looked for Thalia but she was nowhere in sight. That was odd. From what he understood about the situation, her first wish should have been to be with Lukos. The great bear’s mind began to turn but it didn’t head immediately in a nefarious direction. After all, she was the one who had pulled the captain out of the water. It was she who had screamed for help. But what had happened?
Why was the captain in the lagoon at all? He’d never seen him swim. So far as he knew, the man detested water. Whatever happened, the girl had something to do with it and he wanted to know what.
“Find the captain’s whore,” he ordered but no one was able to obey. They combed the island, even going so far as to send poor Gorgoa back into the temple but no one was able to find Thalia. Arktos swore. Clearly she was a witch of some kind; able to appear and disappear at will.
Inside Frona’s house, Lukos remained in and out of consciousness until nightfall when he finally rested in the healing effects of real sleep. The women took turns, watching him throughout the night, ensuring that the hut was hot and checked constantly to make sure he still breathed. By morning, he was awake, weakened severely, but had lost none of his stubbornness.
“Captain!” Frona’s exasperation had reached its boiling point as Lukos pulled on his now dry clothes.
“I’m fine,” he lied. Every breath hurt like his ribs had been cracked. From the feel of it, they probably had been. His memory of the entire event was gone, except for uneasy snippets. The feeling of sucking in water was permanently etched in his mind and would stalk his nightmares for a while. Free falling through the air, watching as the window fell away from view until all he could see was sky before he crashed beneath the water.
Frona misread the shudder. “You’re not fit to walk. Sit down.”
He stared at her, holding his side, barefoot, and immoveable in his mission to leave this hut. The way these people felt about his temple was the way he felt about the village. Being here made him anxious. It reminded him of times that made his skin crawl and put hard knots of anxiety in his stomach as though more than twenty years had not elapsed between then and now.
“Have Gorgoa bring food,” he said as he eased himself out of the doorway. The women flapped after him but he didn’t stop. They tugged on his shirt and drug him backwards and not even his worst glare could stop them until Arktos forced them to leave him alone. Lukos ignored Arktos’s offered arm, shoving past him and stumbling on his own up the path. The bear stumped after him.
“We can’t find your-”
“If you call her my whore one more time,” Lukos panted, stopping and grasping his side harder. Gods it hurt to breathe. “I’ll let her at you again.”
“What happened?” Arktos asked, watching with evident mounting concern Lukos began the slow trek up the hill.
Lukos gritted his teeth, fighting the fire in his side and the spots swimming across his vision. He glanced back at Arktos and opened his mouth to tell him that Phaedra had tried to kill him. There was every reason in the world to loose the dogs of war at her but instead, he shut his mouth again and shrugged. “Accident.”
Arktos nodded, seemingly satisfied with this but returned to the problem at hand. “She’s nowhere.”
“Maybe she threw herself in the ocean.” They were midway up the hill. He was bent over, his hands on his knees, squinting up at the temple. It was so frustratingly far. Damn her.
“I’ll have the men check the rocks. Maybe tide brought her back in,” Arktos said uneasily.
“Don’t bother,” Lukos pushed up, walking slowly again. “Nothing can kill her. If she threw herself into the ocean, Poseidon took her and made her a fish. The gods love that woman.” Damned if I know why, he thought bitterly. No part of him thought she had killed herself. She wouldn’t deny him the pleasure of getting his hooks into her first. Yet, even as he had the thought of putting his hands around her throat, he was too tired even in his mind to go through with it. If she met him on the path right now, he’d probably just hold out his arms and let her finish what she’d started.
It took him a long time with Arktos playing nanny, trailing behind him but at last he made it up the hill. “When you find her,” Lukos said, easing himself down on the stairs. He gave his bear a dark look that warned away the coddling that the man was clearly working up to. “Bring her to me.”
“What…” Arktos began and then rephrased his question. “Did she have anything to do with...yesterday?”
“Just bring her to me,” his tone brooked no more argument or questions. Because of the persistent superstition of the temple, Arktos made no move to follow the captain when he finally clambered to his feet and drifted up the stairs onto the portico.
“Aye, Captain. I’ll be back to check on you,” Arktos began to stump away.
“Stay away,” Lukos said over his shoulder as he pushed open the door.
“With all due respect, Captain,” Arktos turned back around. “I’m going to ignore that order. See you in a few hours.”
Lukos tried to glare at the other man as he left but he just watched him blankly instead, not really understanding why Arktos was doing this. Why any of them had bothered. If they’d let him die, then likely Arktos would be captain. All the gold and the ship, and even Phaedra would have been his. Yet, so the women had told him, Arktos had tried harder than anyone to save him and he couldn’t understand it.
Once inside, he shut the door, placing himself in cool, semi darkness. No one was here and he hadn’t really expected her to be here either. He shrugged out of his shirt but left his pants on as he shuffled to the bed, burying himself in it. Her scent still lingered on it. Reaching out, he shoved her pillow hard so that it fell off the other side and then he closed his eyes.
Slowly, his eyes slid back open and he eased himself so that he was laying across the bed, his arm dangling over the side, fishing for the pillow until he found it. Drawing it back up onto the bed, he replaced it where it had been before going back to his own side. He let his eyes slide shut but just before exhaustion took over, he tugged her pillow to him and buried his nose against it, finally falling into oblivion.
The sobbing eased after several hours and she laid in the dirt. Her arm was folded beneath her head to keep her face off the ground as she stared out at the waves and the endless sea in front of her. The ripples of the waves were mesmerizing and lulled her into a bit of a trance. She'd shut down; unable to think or feel anymore. It was probably what she'd been building up to since she was taken. Any body can only take so much stress and trauma before it loses the capability to function. Almost losing Lukos because of what she did? It was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.
Hours in the day faded into night. The sun set in front of her; boiling the water as it touched the surface before sinking below it. Even Apollo needed sleep. And so she did. Closing her eyes at the onset of darkness to dream vivid dreams of swimming down to him but never being able to reach him. Until she couldn't breathe and had to turn back. Of Arktos pounding on his chest; of the great pirate sobbing at almost losing him.
She didn't wake until well after dawn. On the west side of the island, the cave remained dark longer. And when she did wake, she was cold. While she'd ignored her thirst and hunger, it gnawed more angrily at here today. She pushed herself out of the dirt; the fine soil ground into her wet chiton yesterday making it black and filthy all over. That same dirt covered her skin but she didn't recognize it at all. Her hair was still halfway braided; what wasn't, was twisted in a frizzy mess around her face. She considered going back to the village, but what was the point? She'd almost killed Lukos. She could very well have. She didn't exactly stay to watch him walk it off. And honestly, she didn't think she could handle it if she did. Not when he didn't deserve it.
Ignoring the cramps of hunger and the way her mouth felt impossibly dry, she remained in the cave; leaned against a wall for the whole of that day as well. A sort of forced solitary confinement until the sun set again and she fell asleep. Dreams were harder to come by the second night; her body protesting it's lack of nourishment. She was glad for it. She couldn't function through another night of dreams like the one before.
On the second day away from the village, she woke; groggy and weak. She needed to eat. She needed water. She had to stop sulking in a cave and find her will to fight again. She closed her eyes and prayed to Athena to give her wisdom. To Ares to give her the will to fight. Finally, she pushed herself out of the dirt and walked unsteadily to the edge of the cliff; climbing down the side of the rocks carefully; watching each footfall as she held onto the dense brush and crags with her hands. She hopped down onto the narrow strip of the beach and made her way past the ship graveyard and into the village. Frona was wandering towards her with a basket of greens on her hip when she saw her. She gave a strangled cry and set the basket down awkwardly before hurrying over to Thalia. "Phaedra!" Thalia looked up at the woman and sucked in a breath. She latched onto her arm; muttering a stream of consciousness about thanking the Gods that she was ok and not knowing where she was. Thalia let her lead her to her hut and sat where she told her to. The woman set a cup of wine in front of her but Thalia pushed it away; the idea of the pungent alcohol turned her stomach. She gave her some fresh bread as she talked as well and a skein of water which Thalia took and drank from unconsciously. She ate the bread as well but didn't taste its warmth and savoriness. When her throat was moist again and her tongue didn't feel as thick and gritty with dirt, she spoke; her voice hoarse from neglect. "Lukos.." Frona poured some hot water into a chalice and sprinkled some herbs in it before setting it in front of her. Thalia lifted it to her mouth to drink but it was sour and strong. She wrinkled her nose and set it aside. "Drink, girl.. it will help your throat. Wherever have you been?? The whole island has been searching for you. There are rumors..."
Her voice faded and Thalia looked up to meet her gaze in the silence. "Did you try to kill him?" Thalia looked down at the piece of bread in her hand and Frona let out a long 'woosh' of air; believing the worst before Thalia clarified with a thick voice. "Not intentionally... ...he's so stubborn-" She stopped as the knot grew in her throat; her eyes welling up with tears again. Frona stared at the warrior woman in front of her. The one who bested the biggest pirate in the village and walked away with nothing more than a scratch on her arm. And to her, she looked like a child. Some twenty years her senior, she could have been. She leaned forward and rested her hand on her forearm. "He's ok. You should go to him."
Thalia immediately and vehemently shook her head. "No. ...No, I can't." Frona sighed; shooing off one of the children who ran through the small hut before looking back at Thalia. "You will not let this defeat you. It was an accident. He will live and you will go on. Cease wallowing in your guilt and go. Tell him you're sorry. He'll forgive you.." Thalia scoffed and looked away; tears falling down her dirty face leaving trails near the ones that had long since dried. "No, he won't. I wouldn't.." Frona stared at her sternly for a long moment before huffing. "That's it. You've been wallowing, haven't you? Drowning yourself in self-pity to try and make up for him almost drowning." she shook her head and stood up; hoisting Thalia up by the elbow. "You are not that person. You've battled slavers, killed masters, challenged hulking pirates, and bent a heartless sea captain to your will. You demanded freedom and you got it." Thalia glanced up at her sardonically and shook her head. "You listen to too many stories." Frona raised a brow. "Do I? Get out of my house. Go to the temple no one else in this village will step foot in. Steal food from a pirate few in the village can speak to and bathe in the springs dedicated to the Gods. Your place is not wallowing in the dirt like the pigs."
Thalia flushed and stood as she was lifted up from her chair by a no-nonsense village healer. She nudged her towards the door and shoved her out before stepping out behind her. Thalia looked back at her and gave her a frustrated sigh before walking back towards the temple. She climbed the path by herself; still weak with hunger, but at least she'd had some water. When she rounded the path, She looked up to find Arktos camped up alongside it; but not close enough to rest in the shadow of the temple. He looked up at her and his face darkened. "Where have you been, witch? Two days we've searched for you." He stalked over to her and took up her arm...and she let him. He pulled her to the temple and she hurried to keep up but didn't draw her sword. This was all inevitable, wasn't it? She'd expected it if she tried to kill him. Arktos drew up to the temple but stopped short; not daring to climb the stairs. "...Go inside. Lukos wanted you brought here as soon as you were found." Thalia turned and looked up at him; unable to hide a smirk. "And you found me and finished the final 10 steps to take me here. Your job here is done, pirate... you may go home." She stepped onto the first step and Arktos paused; not daring to follow her.. Seeing his fear Thalia shook her head and turned; marching up the rest of the steps to the portico where she paused for a moment before pushing the door open and stepping inside. It was time to face her fears head-on. Not wallow in the dirt as Frona had said.
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The sobbing eased after several hours and she laid in the dirt. Her arm was folded beneath her head to keep her face off the ground as she stared out at the waves and the endless sea in front of her. The ripples of the waves were mesmerizing and lulled her into a bit of a trance. She'd shut down; unable to think or feel anymore. It was probably what she'd been building up to since she was taken. Any body can only take so much stress and trauma before it loses the capability to function. Almost losing Lukos because of what she did? It was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.
Hours in the day faded into night. The sun set in front of her; boiling the water as it touched the surface before sinking below it. Even Apollo needed sleep. And so she did. Closing her eyes at the onset of darkness to dream vivid dreams of swimming down to him but never being able to reach him. Until she couldn't breathe and had to turn back. Of Arktos pounding on his chest; of the great pirate sobbing at almost losing him.
She didn't wake until well after dawn. On the west side of the island, the cave remained dark longer. And when she did wake, she was cold. While she'd ignored her thirst and hunger, it gnawed more angrily at here today. She pushed herself out of the dirt; the fine soil ground into her wet chiton yesterday making it black and filthy all over. That same dirt covered her skin but she didn't recognize it at all. Her hair was still halfway braided; what wasn't, was twisted in a frizzy mess around her face. She considered going back to the village, but what was the point? She'd almost killed Lukos. She could very well have. She didn't exactly stay to watch him walk it off. And honestly, she didn't think she could handle it if she did. Not when he didn't deserve it.
Ignoring the cramps of hunger and the way her mouth felt impossibly dry, she remained in the cave; leaned against a wall for the whole of that day as well. A sort of forced solitary confinement until the sun set again and she fell asleep. Dreams were harder to come by the second night; her body protesting it's lack of nourishment. She was glad for it. She couldn't function through another night of dreams like the one before.
On the second day away from the village, she woke; groggy and weak. She needed to eat. She needed water. She had to stop sulking in a cave and find her will to fight again. She closed her eyes and prayed to Athena to give her wisdom. To Ares to give her the will to fight. Finally, she pushed herself out of the dirt and walked unsteadily to the edge of the cliff; climbing down the side of the rocks carefully; watching each footfall as she held onto the dense brush and crags with her hands. She hopped down onto the narrow strip of the beach and made her way past the ship graveyard and into the village. Frona was wandering towards her with a basket of greens on her hip when she saw her. She gave a strangled cry and set the basket down awkwardly before hurrying over to Thalia. "Phaedra!" Thalia looked up at the woman and sucked in a breath. She latched onto her arm; muttering a stream of consciousness about thanking the Gods that she was ok and not knowing where she was. Thalia let her lead her to her hut and sat where she told her to. The woman set a cup of wine in front of her but Thalia pushed it away; the idea of the pungent alcohol turned her stomach. She gave her some fresh bread as she talked as well and a skein of water which Thalia took and drank from unconsciously. She ate the bread as well but didn't taste its warmth and savoriness. When her throat was moist again and her tongue didn't feel as thick and gritty with dirt, she spoke; her voice hoarse from neglect. "Lukos.." Frona poured some hot water into a chalice and sprinkled some herbs in it before setting it in front of her. Thalia lifted it to her mouth to drink but it was sour and strong. She wrinkled her nose and set it aside. "Drink, girl.. it will help your throat. Wherever have you been?? The whole island has been searching for you. There are rumors..."
Her voice faded and Thalia looked up to meet her gaze in the silence. "Did you try to kill him?" Thalia looked down at the piece of bread in her hand and Frona let out a long 'woosh' of air; believing the worst before Thalia clarified with a thick voice. "Not intentionally... ...he's so stubborn-" She stopped as the knot grew in her throat; her eyes welling up with tears again. Frona stared at the warrior woman in front of her. The one who bested the biggest pirate in the village and walked away with nothing more than a scratch on her arm. And to her, she looked like a child. Some twenty years her senior, she could have been. She leaned forward and rested her hand on her forearm. "He's ok. You should go to him."
Thalia immediately and vehemently shook her head. "No. ...No, I can't." Frona sighed; shooing off one of the children who ran through the small hut before looking back at Thalia. "You will not let this defeat you. It was an accident. He will live and you will go on. Cease wallowing in your guilt and go. Tell him you're sorry. He'll forgive you.." Thalia scoffed and looked away; tears falling down her dirty face leaving trails near the ones that had long since dried. "No, he won't. I wouldn't.." Frona stared at her sternly for a long moment before huffing. "That's it. You've been wallowing, haven't you? Drowning yourself in self-pity to try and make up for him almost drowning." she shook her head and stood up; hoisting Thalia up by the elbow. "You are not that person. You've battled slavers, killed masters, challenged hulking pirates, and bent a heartless sea captain to your will. You demanded freedom and you got it." Thalia glanced up at her sardonically and shook her head. "You listen to too many stories." Frona raised a brow. "Do I? Get out of my house. Go to the temple no one else in this village will step foot in. Steal food from a pirate few in the village can speak to and bathe in the springs dedicated to the Gods. Your place is not wallowing in the dirt like the pigs."
Thalia flushed and stood as she was lifted up from her chair by a no-nonsense village healer. She nudged her towards the door and shoved her out before stepping out behind her. Thalia looked back at her and gave her a frustrated sigh before walking back towards the temple. She climbed the path by herself; still weak with hunger, but at least she'd had some water. When she rounded the path, She looked up to find Arktos camped up alongside it; but not close enough to rest in the shadow of the temple. He looked up at her and his face darkened. "Where have you been, witch? Two days we've searched for you." He stalked over to her and took up her arm...and she let him. He pulled her to the temple and she hurried to keep up but didn't draw her sword. This was all inevitable, wasn't it? She'd expected it if she tried to kill him. Arktos drew up to the temple but stopped short; not daring to climb the stairs. "...Go inside. Lukos wanted you brought here as soon as you were found." Thalia turned and looked up at him; unable to hide a smirk. "And you found me and finished the final 10 steps to take me here. Your job here is done, pirate... you may go home." She stepped onto the first step and Arktos paused; not daring to follow her.. Seeing his fear Thalia shook her head and turned; marching up the rest of the steps to the portico where she paused for a moment before pushing the door open and stepping inside. It was time to face her fears head-on. Not wallow in the dirt as Frona had said.
The sobbing eased after several hours and she laid in the dirt. Her arm was folded beneath her head to keep her face off the ground as she stared out at the waves and the endless sea in front of her. The ripples of the waves were mesmerizing and lulled her into a bit of a trance. She'd shut down; unable to think or feel anymore. It was probably what she'd been building up to since she was taken. Any body can only take so much stress and trauma before it loses the capability to function. Almost losing Lukos because of what she did? It was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.
Hours in the day faded into night. The sun set in front of her; boiling the water as it touched the surface before sinking below it. Even Apollo needed sleep. And so she did. Closing her eyes at the onset of darkness to dream vivid dreams of swimming down to him but never being able to reach him. Until she couldn't breathe and had to turn back. Of Arktos pounding on his chest; of the great pirate sobbing at almost losing him.
She didn't wake until well after dawn. On the west side of the island, the cave remained dark longer. And when she did wake, she was cold. While she'd ignored her thirst and hunger, it gnawed more angrily at here today. She pushed herself out of the dirt; the fine soil ground into her wet chiton yesterday making it black and filthy all over. That same dirt covered her skin but she didn't recognize it at all. Her hair was still halfway braided; what wasn't, was twisted in a frizzy mess around her face. She considered going back to the village, but what was the point? She'd almost killed Lukos. She could very well have. She didn't exactly stay to watch him walk it off. And honestly, she didn't think she could handle it if she did. Not when he didn't deserve it.
Ignoring the cramps of hunger and the way her mouth felt impossibly dry, she remained in the cave; leaned against a wall for the whole of that day as well. A sort of forced solitary confinement until the sun set again and she fell asleep. Dreams were harder to come by the second night; her body protesting it's lack of nourishment. She was glad for it. She couldn't function through another night of dreams like the one before.
On the second day away from the village, she woke; groggy and weak. She needed to eat. She needed water. She had to stop sulking in a cave and find her will to fight again. She closed her eyes and prayed to Athena to give her wisdom. To Ares to give her the will to fight. Finally, she pushed herself out of the dirt and walked unsteadily to the edge of the cliff; climbing down the side of the rocks carefully; watching each footfall as she held onto the dense brush and crags with her hands. She hopped down onto the narrow strip of the beach and made her way past the ship graveyard and into the village. Frona was wandering towards her with a basket of greens on her hip when she saw her. She gave a strangled cry and set the basket down awkwardly before hurrying over to Thalia. "Phaedra!" Thalia looked up at the woman and sucked in a breath. She latched onto her arm; muttering a stream of consciousness about thanking the Gods that she was ok and not knowing where she was. Thalia let her lead her to her hut and sat where she told her to. The woman set a cup of wine in front of her but Thalia pushed it away; the idea of the pungent alcohol turned her stomach. She gave her some fresh bread as she talked as well and a skein of water which Thalia took and drank from unconsciously. She ate the bread as well but didn't taste its warmth and savoriness. When her throat was moist again and her tongue didn't feel as thick and gritty with dirt, she spoke; her voice hoarse from neglect. "Lukos.." Frona poured some hot water into a chalice and sprinkled some herbs in it before setting it in front of her. Thalia lifted it to her mouth to drink but it was sour and strong. She wrinkled her nose and set it aside. "Drink, girl.. it will help your throat. Wherever have you been?? The whole island has been searching for you. There are rumors..."
Her voice faded and Thalia looked up to meet her gaze in the silence. "Did you try to kill him?" Thalia looked down at the piece of bread in her hand and Frona let out a long 'woosh' of air; believing the worst before Thalia clarified with a thick voice. "Not intentionally... ...he's so stubborn-" She stopped as the knot grew in her throat; her eyes welling up with tears again. Frona stared at the warrior woman in front of her. The one who bested the biggest pirate in the village and walked away with nothing more than a scratch on her arm. And to her, she looked like a child. Some twenty years her senior, she could have been. She leaned forward and rested her hand on her forearm. "He's ok. You should go to him."
Thalia immediately and vehemently shook her head. "No. ...No, I can't." Frona sighed; shooing off one of the children who ran through the small hut before looking back at Thalia. "You will not let this defeat you. It was an accident. He will live and you will go on. Cease wallowing in your guilt and go. Tell him you're sorry. He'll forgive you.." Thalia scoffed and looked away; tears falling down her dirty face leaving trails near the ones that had long since dried. "No, he won't. I wouldn't.." Frona stared at her sternly for a long moment before huffing. "That's it. You've been wallowing, haven't you? Drowning yourself in self-pity to try and make up for him almost drowning." she shook her head and stood up; hoisting Thalia up by the elbow. "You are not that person. You've battled slavers, killed masters, challenged hulking pirates, and bent a heartless sea captain to your will. You demanded freedom and you got it." Thalia glanced up at her sardonically and shook her head. "You listen to too many stories." Frona raised a brow. "Do I? Get out of my house. Go to the temple no one else in this village will step foot in. Steal food from a pirate few in the village can speak to and bathe in the springs dedicated to the Gods. Your place is not wallowing in the dirt like the pigs."
Thalia flushed and stood as she was lifted up from her chair by a no-nonsense village healer. She nudged her towards the door and shoved her out before stepping out behind her. Thalia looked back at her and gave her a frustrated sigh before walking back towards the temple. She climbed the path by herself; still weak with hunger, but at least she'd had some water. When she rounded the path, She looked up to find Arktos camped up alongside it; but not close enough to rest in the shadow of the temple. He looked up at her and his face darkened. "Where have you been, witch? Two days we've searched for you." He stalked over to her and took up her arm...and she let him. He pulled her to the temple and she hurried to keep up but didn't draw her sword. This was all inevitable, wasn't it? She'd expected it if she tried to kill him. Arktos drew up to the temple but stopped short; not daring to climb the stairs. "...Go inside. Lukos wanted you brought here as soon as you were found." Thalia turned and looked up at him; unable to hide a smirk. "And you found me and finished the final 10 steps to take me here. Your job here is done, pirate... you may go home." She stepped onto the first step and Arktos paused; not daring to follow her.. Seeing his fear Thalia shook her head and turned; marching up the rest of the steps to the portico where she paused for a moment before pushing the door open and stepping inside. It was time to face her fears head-on. Not wallow in the dirt as Frona had said.
True to his word, Arktos did come back a few hours later but he did not set foot inside the temple. Instead, he sent the terrified Gorgoa instead, and instructed her in exactly what to do. For all her fear of the gods, Gorgoa’s fear of Lukos or Arktos’s anger was worse and this, and this alone, was why she out of everyone in the village, would dare to defy Ares. Not only being a woman, but by actively helping to desecrate his temple by assisting Lukos in living there.
She trembled as she always did, her slim hands pushing open the giant door with a loud creak. A thin shaft of light permeated the gloom and she left the door half open as she always did. Balanced on her left arm was a tray of food that Frona had been sure Lukos would not eat. Gorgoa’s eyes fell on him now and he did not stir as she moved along the wall toward the table. The tray slid over the tabletop with the hollow sound of wood scraping together and still he did not move.
Her heart beat faster as she contemplated whether or not he might be dead. His broad back was to her and she tiptoed around the crates, knowing that if she went back outside to Arktos without having first checked the captain, she’d be sent right back in and yelled at to boot. Round green eyes traveled up from his exposed lower back to his shoulders but he didn’t appear to be breathing. She crouched near the bed, her cheek nearly pressed to his skin but she couldn’t feel heat radiating off of him.
Gorgoa’s mouse breathing increased and she slowly raised up, leaning over him a little and reaching her hand down to brush feather light touches to his neck to check for a pulse. At once her wrist was locked in a vice grip and she felt herself jerked up off her feet. The world upended and spun and to her horror and confusion, she was laying in the captain’s bed with his obsidian gaze boring into her.
“What are you doing.” His voice was flat like his question was more of a statement but he clearly wanted a response. She twisted her wrist in his grip but he didn’t let go and she was terrified to move otherwise.
“I-I-I-” she stuttered, not finding traction to her words. Lukos simply waited, his expression unchanging but she could see that the tensed muscles in his arm were relaxing a little, as though he could not maintain his usual intensity. “I was checking to see if you were breathing!” she said in a rush, exhaling all the pent up air. He kept hold of her wrist but his grip had slackened.
“Are...you going to...should I just...lay here?” she asked, realizing he was probably going to do to her what he did to Phaedra now that the other woman wasn’t here for him. He hadn’t ever made any sort of move toward her in that fashion. Now that she thought of it, this was the first time he’d ever touched her at all. It was painful. Would the other be painful too? She was no maid but the captain was a hard man that she did not imagine to be gentle in any way.
Lukos’s expression changed immediately and his eyes raked her over in obvious distaste. “Get out.” Was all he said.
He watched her face go through a series of changes as she looked to be struggling to comprehend his order. Take her? The very thought was revolting. He doubted he could get semi hard even if her mouth was on him. Why she thought he wanted her was beyond him and he released her wrist in disgust. She lay there a second longer, staring at him as though he might murder her or change his mind but when he did neither, she slid off the bed.
He drug Phaedra’s pillow back to him from where he’d moved it in order to jerk Gorgoa, who he’d assumed to be Phaedra coming to finish him, onto the bed. Gorgoa shook visibly as she walked back through the temple but Lukos didn’t bother to watch her. His head was feeling a little muddled and his was trying to breathe normally. The effort of hoisting even Gorgoa’s skeletal frame over him had cost him precious energy. If she had been Phaedra, he would have had to bluff the entire exchange and it wouldn’t have worked.
“He’s alive?” Arktos’s voice carried even through the door as Gorgoa shut him back in.
“Extremely,” she quavered and he smiled into the pillow despite himself. There was almost nothing more fun than scaring that woman but it was easy. He knew nothing about her other than she brought him food and was forced to come here. It had nothing to do with bravery. Therefore, he never thought twice about her.
The day slid away to night with Gorgoa coming and going with irritating frequency. He didn’t have the energy to roar at Arktos to go away and each time he demanded for Gorgoa to carry his command, she practically whispered it to the big man who took it as a good joke and a sign that the captain was getting better. Still, no one left him alone like he’d wanted and it wasn’t until Arktos threatened to make Gorgoa sleep in the temple unless Lukos ate or drank something that he finally shuffled out of bed.
It was stupid to have this conversation through an open doorway but Lukos had no desire to walk all the way out onto the portico if he didn’t have to and Arktos was not about to come near the temple. He had the barest amount of food that he could get away with before ordering Gorgoa to take it and finally leave him alone for the night. In that, he was still defied though he was less awake to be annoyed by it.
Every few hours during the night, he would feel her timid fingers press as lightly as possible to his back long enough to feel him take in air before she would move away again. Arktos must have camped out on the path outside because his almighty snore broke through the barrier of the door, waking Lukos up more than once.
This was why he lived in Ares’s temple. On the hill. Alone. So he would not have to deal with this crushing, inexplicable behavior. Why his bear was playing mother hen he still couldn’t figure out but he wasn’t about to bring attention to the virtues of not doing it. He just wished it would stop on its own. However, it did not.
By the time that Phaedra’s voice was audible beyond the door the next morning, he was in a black mood. The sound of her goading made him sit up. Immediately he reached under his mattress, pulling out weapons. She’d fought him about it before but clearly it was a tactic to get him to drop his guard. Which he would not be doing again.
He sat up in the bed, one leg stretched out, one knee up to his chest, and dangling from the fingers of his right hand, the blade of a dagger. The door opened and he waited until she had pushed it closed to fling the dagger with stunning accuracy. It sank deep into the wood just above her head and he had another ready.
“So,” his voice rolled across the marble, stronger now than it had been, as though he’d been waiting for just this moment to speak. “Clearly you’re going to have to try harder than that.” Anger burst inside his chest and he flung another dagger, this one embedding near her shoulder. He rose from the bed, hot with fury, adrenaline aiding him, lending him strength he did not have.
Just seeing her released a molten hot ball of tangled emotions. He wanted to rip her apart. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to fling her to the ground and watch her writhe beneath his foot. He wanted her to gather him to her and just let him rest against her chest. His third and final dagger he kept in his fist by the hilt. This one wasn’t meant to throw.
Right at first, all he’d been able to take in was the fact that she was here. He hadn’t noticed her ghastly appearance or the tear streaks in the dirt on her face. Half way across the temple, he saw but he kept walking, knowing if he stopped, it was over. He wouldn’t have the reserves to try this a second time. “Where did you go?”
He dropped the knife a third of the way and made it to her with just enough left in him to lean down so that their faces were level. Why was she always a mess when she came back? All the way across the temple he’d planned any number of violences against her person but all he managed in the end was to wrap his arms around her waist and drag her down with him so that they were sitting sprawled out against the door, his face buried against her neck.
“I hate you,” he mumbled against her. She didn’t smell like the oils he was used to. Somehow he knew where she had been; not precisely where, but he knew the scent of dank cave water and the sea. The grit that covered her was also a give away. This island had been home to him for more than twenty years but he knew she’d found a place he hadn’t known existed. Trust her to find those places always.
This character is currently a work in progress.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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True to his word, Arktos did come back a few hours later but he did not set foot inside the temple. Instead, he sent the terrified Gorgoa instead, and instructed her in exactly what to do. For all her fear of the gods, Gorgoa’s fear of Lukos or Arktos’s anger was worse and this, and this alone, was why she out of everyone in the village, would dare to defy Ares. Not only being a woman, but by actively helping to desecrate his temple by assisting Lukos in living there.
She trembled as she always did, her slim hands pushing open the giant door with a loud creak. A thin shaft of light permeated the gloom and she left the door half open as she always did. Balanced on her left arm was a tray of food that Frona had been sure Lukos would not eat. Gorgoa’s eyes fell on him now and he did not stir as she moved along the wall toward the table. The tray slid over the tabletop with the hollow sound of wood scraping together and still he did not move.
Her heart beat faster as she contemplated whether or not he might be dead. His broad back was to her and she tiptoed around the crates, knowing that if she went back outside to Arktos without having first checked the captain, she’d be sent right back in and yelled at to boot. Round green eyes traveled up from his exposed lower back to his shoulders but he didn’t appear to be breathing. She crouched near the bed, her cheek nearly pressed to his skin but she couldn’t feel heat radiating off of him.
Gorgoa’s mouse breathing increased and she slowly raised up, leaning over him a little and reaching her hand down to brush feather light touches to his neck to check for a pulse. At once her wrist was locked in a vice grip and she felt herself jerked up off her feet. The world upended and spun and to her horror and confusion, she was laying in the captain’s bed with his obsidian gaze boring into her.
“What are you doing.” His voice was flat like his question was more of a statement but he clearly wanted a response. She twisted her wrist in his grip but he didn’t let go and she was terrified to move otherwise.
“I-I-I-” she stuttered, not finding traction to her words. Lukos simply waited, his expression unchanging but she could see that the tensed muscles in his arm were relaxing a little, as though he could not maintain his usual intensity. “I was checking to see if you were breathing!” she said in a rush, exhaling all the pent up air. He kept hold of her wrist but his grip had slackened.
“Are...you going to...should I just...lay here?” she asked, realizing he was probably going to do to her what he did to Phaedra now that the other woman wasn’t here for him. He hadn’t ever made any sort of move toward her in that fashion. Now that she thought of it, this was the first time he’d ever touched her at all. It was painful. Would the other be painful too? She was no maid but the captain was a hard man that she did not imagine to be gentle in any way.
Lukos’s expression changed immediately and his eyes raked her over in obvious distaste. “Get out.” Was all he said.
He watched her face go through a series of changes as she looked to be struggling to comprehend his order. Take her? The very thought was revolting. He doubted he could get semi hard even if her mouth was on him. Why she thought he wanted her was beyond him and he released her wrist in disgust. She lay there a second longer, staring at him as though he might murder her or change his mind but when he did neither, she slid off the bed.
He drug Phaedra’s pillow back to him from where he’d moved it in order to jerk Gorgoa, who he’d assumed to be Phaedra coming to finish him, onto the bed. Gorgoa shook visibly as she walked back through the temple but Lukos didn’t bother to watch her. His head was feeling a little muddled and his was trying to breathe normally. The effort of hoisting even Gorgoa’s skeletal frame over him had cost him precious energy. If she had been Phaedra, he would have had to bluff the entire exchange and it wouldn’t have worked.
“He’s alive?” Arktos’s voice carried even through the door as Gorgoa shut him back in.
“Extremely,” she quavered and he smiled into the pillow despite himself. There was almost nothing more fun than scaring that woman but it was easy. He knew nothing about her other than she brought him food and was forced to come here. It had nothing to do with bravery. Therefore, he never thought twice about her.
The day slid away to night with Gorgoa coming and going with irritating frequency. He didn’t have the energy to roar at Arktos to go away and each time he demanded for Gorgoa to carry his command, she practically whispered it to the big man who took it as a good joke and a sign that the captain was getting better. Still, no one left him alone like he’d wanted and it wasn’t until Arktos threatened to make Gorgoa sleep in the temple unless Lukos ate or drank something that he finally shuffled out of bed.
It was stupid to have this conversation through an open doorway but Lukos had no desire to walk all the way out onto the portico if he didn’t have to and Arktos was not about to come near the temple. He had the barest amount of food that he could get away with before ordering Gorgoa to take it and finally leave him alone for the night. In that, he was still defied though he was less awake to be annoyed by it.
Every few hours during the night, he would feel her timid fingers press as lightly as possible to his back long enough to feel him take in air before she would move away again. Arktos must have camped out on the path outside because his almighty snore broke through the barrier of the door, waking Lukos up more than once.
This was why he lived in Ares’s temple. On the hill. Alone. So he would not have to deal with this crushing, inexplicable behavior. Why his bear was playing mother hen he still couldn’t figure out but he wasn’t about to bring attention to the virtues of not doing it. He just wished it would stop on its own. However, it did not.
By the time that Phaedra’s voice was audible beyond the door the next morning, he was in a black mood. The sound of her goading made him sit up. Immediately he reached under his mattress, pulling out weapons. She’d fought him about it before but clearly it was a tactic to get him to drop his guard. Which he would not be doing again.
He sat up in the bed, one leg stretched out, one knee up to his chest, and dangling from the fingers of his right hand, the blade of a dagger. The door opened and he waited until she had pushed it closed to fling the dagger with stunning accuracy. It sank deep into the wood just above her head and he had another ready.
“So,” his voice rolled across the marble, stronger now than it had been, as though he’d been waiting for just this moment to speak. “Clearly you’re going to have to try harder than that.” Anger burst inside his chest and he flung another dagger, this one embedding near her shoulder. He rose from the bed, hot with fury, adrenaline aiding him, lending him strength he did not have.
Just seeing her released a molten hot ball of tangled emotions. He wanted to rip her apart. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to fling her to the ground and watch her writhe beneath his foot. He wanted her to gather him to her and just let him rest against her chest. His third and final dagger he kept in his fist by the hilt. This one wasn’t meant to throw.
Right at first, all he’d been able to take in was the fact that she was here. He hadn’t noticed her ghastly appearance or the tear streaks in the dirt on her face. Half way across the temple, he saw but he kept walking, knowing if he stopped, it was over. He wouldn’t have the reserves to try this a second time. “Where did you go?”
He dropped the knife a third of the way and made it to her with just enough left in him to lean down so that their faces were level. Why was she always a mess when she came back? All the way across the temple he’d planned any number of violences against her person but all he managed in the end was to wrap his arms around her waist and drag her down with him so that they were sitting sprawled out against the door, his face buried against her neck.
“I hate you,” he mumbled against her. She didn’t smell like the oils he was used to. Somehow he knew where she had been; not precisely where, but he knew the scent of dank cave water and the sea. The grit that covered her was also a give away. This island had been home to him for more than twenty years but he knew she’d found a place he hadn’t known existed. Trust her to find those places always.
True to his word, Arktos did come back a few hours later but he did not set foot inside the temple. Instead, he sent the terrified Gorgoa instead, and instructed her in exactly what to do. For all her fear of the gods, Gorgoa’s fear of Lukos or Arktos’s anger was worse and this, and this alone, was why she out of everyone in the village, would dare to defy Ares. Not only being a woman, but by actively helping to desecrate his temple by assisting Lukos in living there.
She trembled as she always did, her slim hands pushing open the giant door with a loud creak. A thin shaft of light permeated the gloom and she left the door half open as she always did. Balanced on her left arm was a tray of food that Frona had been sure Lukos would not eat. Gorgoa’s eyes fell on him now and he did not stir as she moved along the wall toward the table. The tray slid over the tabletop with the hollow sound of wood scraping together and still he did not move.
Her heart beat faster as she contemplated whether or not he might be dead. His broad back was to her and she tiptoed around the crates, knowing that if she went back outside to Arktos without having first checked the captain, she’d be sent right back in and yelled at to boot. Round green eyes traveled up from his exposed lower back to his shoulders but he didn’t appear to be breathing. She crouched near the bed, her cheek nearly pressed to his skin but she couldn’t feel heat radiating off of him.
Gorgoa’s mouse breathing increased and she slowly raised up, leaning over him a little and reaching her hand down to brush feather light touches to his neck to check for a pulse. At once her wrist was locked in a vice grip and she felt herself jerked up off her feet. The world upended and spun and to her horror and confusion, she was laying in the captain’s bed with his obsidian gaze boring into her.
“What are you doing.” His voice was flat like his question was more of a statement but he clearly wanted a response. She twisted her wrist in his grip but he didn’t let go and she was terrified to move otherwise.
“I-I-I-” she stuttered, not finding traction to her words. Lukos simply waited, his expression unchanging but she could see that the tensed muscles in his arm were relaxing a little, as though he could not maintain his usual intensity. “I was checking to see if you were breathing!” she said in a rush, exhaling all the pent up air. He kept hold of her wrist but his grip had slackened.
“Are...you going to...should I just...lay here?” she asked, realizing he was probably going to do to her what he did to Phaedra now that the other woman wasn’t here for him. He hadn’t ever made any sort of move toward her in that fashion. Now that she thought of it, this was the first time he’d ever touched her at all. It was painful. Would the other be painful too? She was no maid but the captain was a hard man that she did not imagine to be gentle in any way.
Lukos’s expression changed immediately and his eyes raked her over in obvious distaste. “Get out.” Was all he said.
He watched her face go through a series of changes as she looked to be struggling to comprehend his order. Take her? The very thought was revolting. He doubted he could get semi hard even if her mouth was on him. Why she thought he wanted her was beyond him and he released her wrist in disgust. She lay there a second longer, staring at him as though he might murder her or change his mind but when he did neither, she slid off the bed.
He drug Phaedra’s pillow back to him from where he’d moved it in order to jerk Gorgoa, who he’d assumed to be Phaedra coming to finish him, onto the bed. Gorgoa shook visibly as she walked back through the temple but Lukos didn’t bother to watch her. His head was feeling a little muddled and his was trying to breathe normally. The effort of hoisting even Gorgoa’s skeletal frame over him had cost him precious energy. If she had been Phaedra, he would have had to bluff the entire exchange and it wouldn’t have worked.
“He’s alive?” Arktos’s voice carried even through the door as Gorgoa shut him back in.
“Extremely,” she quavered and he smiled into the pillow despite himself. There was almost nothing more fun than scaring that woman but it was easy. He knew nothing about her other than she brought him food and was forced to come here. It had nothing to do with bravery. Therefore, he never thought twice about her.
The day slid away to night with Gorgoa coming and going with irritating frequency. He didn’t have the energy to roar at Arktos to go away and each time he demanded for Gorgoa to carry his command, she practically whispered it to the big man who took it as a good joke and a sign that the captain was getting better. Still, no one left him alone like he’d wanted and it wasn’t until Arktos threatened to make Gorgoa sleep in the temple unless Lukos ate or drank something that he finally shuffled out of bed.
It was stupid to have this conversation through an open doorway but Lukos had no desire to walk all the way out onto the portico if he didn’t have to and Arktos was not about to come near the temple. He had the barest amount of food that he could get away with before ordering Gorgoa to take it and finally leave him alone for the night. In that, he was still defied though he was less awake to be annoyed by it.
Every few hours during the night, he would feel her timid fingers press as lightly as possible to his back long enough to feel him take in air before she would move away again. Arktos must have camped out on the path outside because his almighty snore broke through the barrier of the door, waking Lukos up more than once.
This was why he lived in Ares’s temple. On the hill. Alone. So he would not have to deal with this crushing, inexplicable behavior. Why his bear was playing mother hen he still couldn’t figure out but he wasn’t about to bring attention to the virtues of not doing it. He just wished it would stop on its own. However, it did not.
By the time that Phaedra’s voice was audible beyond the door the next morning, he was in a black mood. The sound of her goading made him sit up. Immediately he reached under his mattress, pulling out weapons. She’d fought him about it before but clearly it was a tactic to get him to drop his guard. Which he would not be doing again.
He sat up in the bed, one leg stretched out, one knee up to his chest, and dangling from the fingers of his right hand, the blade of a dagger. The door opened and he waited until she had pushed it closed to fling the dagger with stunning accuracy. It sank deep into the wood just above her head and he had another ready.
“So,” his voice rolled across the marble, stronger now than it had been, as though he’d been waiting for just this moment to speak. “Clearly you’re going to have to try harder than that.” Anger burst inside his chest and he flung another dagger, this one embedding near her shoulder. He rose from the bed, hot with fury, adrenaline aiding him, lending him strength he did not have.
Just seeing her released a molten hot ball of tangled emotions. He wanted to rip her apart. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to fling her to the ground and watch her writhe beneath his foot. He wanted her to gather him to her and just let him rest against her chest. His third and final dagger he kept in his fist by the hilt. This one wasn’t meant to throw.
Right at first, all he’d been able to take in was the fact that she was here. He hadn’t noticed her ghastly appearance or the tear streaks in the dirt on her face. Half way across the temple, he saw but he kept walking, knowing if he stopped, it was over. He wouldn’t have the reserves to try this a second time. “Where did you go?”
He dropped the knife a third of the way and made it to her with just enough left in him to lean down so that their faces were level. Why was she always a mess when she came back? All the way across the temple he’d planned any number of violences against her person but all he managed in the end was to wrap his arms around her waist and drag her down with him so that they were sitting sprawled out against the door, his face buried against her neck.
“I hate you,” he mumbled against her. She didn’t smell like the oils he was used to. Somehow he knew where she had been; not precisely where, but he knew the scent of dank cave water and the sea. The grit that covered her was also a give away. This island had been home to him for more than twenty years but he knew she’d found a place he hadn’t known existed. Trust her to find those places always.
It took her a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness in the temple as she leaned back against the door. That short hesitation was enough for a dagger to fly past her and embed in the door by her head. She gave a start; not having expected the attack so quickly. .....But if he was good enough to hit the door behind her so close to her head, he was good enough to hit her. And he hadn't. ....That wasn't to say he wouldn't though. His voice rung out in the darkness, and she closed her eyes; willing them to adjust so she could see them. "If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead. I wouldn't have pulled you out." Her voice sounded weary and hoarse.
The second blade embedded in the wood by her shoulder with a THUNK and she opened her eyes again. It was very slowly becoming easier to see in the room. But she made no move to defend herself. Were she trying, she could have pulled one of the blades from the door and used it against him.. or used the sword that was still strapped to her back. She saw his shadow stand and move towards her and she lowered her chin; readying herself for whatever attack he leveled against her. Would he throw her back in the cage? Chain her again? Or would he simply kill her and have it be over with? All of them were viable options as far as she was concerned. But it wasn't like she could run away or hide forever. Not on this island.
A third blade clattered to the marble floor; glinting in the dim light of the room as he closed the distance and her brow furrowed. When he finally reached her, he leaned down to stare at her dirty face and asked she went. Instead of her throat, his arms wrapped around her waist and his knees buckled; dragging her down with him to curl against her chest. "I don't know... I just..." Couldn't watch you die. Her knees were drawn up and her arms didn't wrap around him; held stiffly above as if afraid to touch him. He held her like she was the one who'd almost died; clinging to her waist and burying his face into her dirty throat. She was lost. She didn't know what to do. In all the scenarios of what would happen when she returned, this was not an option. In one scenario she half expected him to make her beg for her life.
Her arm fell and settled on his shoulders and she closed her eyes as he told her he hated her. "Good. You should." She replied flatly. She was not the nurturing sort. It felt against her nature to comfort him after she'd almost killed him. She couldn't be a nursemaid or coddle him and she was anxious that he wasn't quite done flinging knives at her. She'd never been raised to provide comfort to people. A hug was about as much as she'd ever offered her father and brothers, though they did allow her to lay against them from time to time when lounging about. It was all the affection they showed each other. But she found her arm tightening around his shoulders; fingers curling into his hair as she pulled him closer; twisting her body to contort against him so as much of her smaller frame was pressed against his. She buried her nose against his temple; closing her eyes tightly as his warmth radiated off him. She gave a shuddering gasp; not realizing she was holding her breath. Tears burned in her eyes and she willed herself not to let them fall. She couldn't cry in front of him. "....What happened...?? I don't understand.. I just pushed you..."
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It took her a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness in the temple as she leaned back against the door. That short hesitation was enough for a dagger to fly past her and embed in the door by her head. She gave a start; not having expected the attack so quickly. .....But if he was good enough to hit the door behind her so close to her head, he was good enough to hit her. And he hadn't. ....That wasn't to say he wouldn't though. His voice rung out in the darkness, and she closed her eyes; willing them to adjust so she could see them. "If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead. I wouldn't have pulled you out." Her voice sounded weary and hoarse.
The second blade embedded in the wood by her shoulder with a THUNK and she opened her eyes again. It was very slowly becoming easier to see in the room. But she made no move to defend herself. Were she trying, she could have pulled one of the blades from the door and used it against him.. or used the sword that was still strapped to her back. She saw his shadow stand and move towards her and she lowered her chin; readying herself for whatever attack he leveled against her. Would he throw her back in the cage? Chain her again? Or would he simply kill her and have it be over with? All of them were viable options as far as she was concerned. But it wasn't like she could run away or hide forever. Not on this island.
A third blade clattered to the marble floor; glinting in the dim light of the room as he closed the distance and her brow furrowed. When he finally reached her, he leaned down to stare at her dirty face and asked she went. Instead of her throat, his arms wrapped around her waist and his knees buckled; dragging her down with him to curl against her chest. "I don't know... I just..." Couldn't watch you die. Her knees were drawn up and her arms didn't wrap around him; held stiffly above as if afraid to touch him. He held her like she was the one who'd almost died; clinging to her waist and burying his face into her dirty throat. She was lost. She didn't know what to do. In all the scenarios of what would happen when she returned, this was not an option. In one scenario she half expected him to make her beg for her life.
Her arm fell and settled on his shoulders and she closed her eyes as he told her he hated her. "Good. You should." She replied flatly. She was not the nurturing sort. It felt against her nature to comfort him after she'd almost killed him. She couldn't be a nursemaid or coddle him and she was anxious that he wasn't quite done flinging knives at her. She'd never been raised to provide comfort to people. A hug was about as much as she'd ever offered her father and brothers, though they did allow her to lay against them from time to time when lounging about. It was all the affection they showed each other. But she found her arm tightening around his shoulders; fingers curling into his hair as she pulled him closer; twisting her body to contort against him so as much of her smaller frame was pressed against his. She buried her nose against his temple; closing her eyes tightly as his warmth radiated off him. She gave a shuddering gasp; not realizing she was holding her breath. Tears burned in her eyes and she willed herself not to let them fall. She couldn't cry in front of him. "....What happened...?? I don't understand.. I just pushed you..."
It took her a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness in the temple as she leaned back against the door. That short hesitation was enough for a dagger to fly past her and embed in the door by her head. She gave a start; not having expected the attack so quickly. .....But if he was good enough to hit the door behind her so close to her head, he was good enough to hit her. And he hadn't. ....That wasn't to say he wouldn't though. His voice rung out in the darkness, and she closed her eyes; willing them to adjust so she could see them. "If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead. I wouldn't have pulled you out." Her voice sounded weary and hoarse.
The second blade embedded in the wood by her shoulder with a THUNK and she opened her eyes again. It was very slowly becoming easier to see in the room. But she made no move to defend herself. Were she trying, she could have pulled one of the blades from the door and used it against him.. or used the sword that was still strapped to her back. She saw his shadow stand and move towards her and she lowered her chin; readying herself for whatever attack he leveled against her. Would he throw her back in the cage? Chain her again? Or would he simply kill her and have it be over with? All of them were viable options as far as she was concerned. But it wasn't like she could run away or hide forever. Not on this island.
A third blade clattered to the marble floor; glinting in the dim light of the room as he closed the distance and her brow furrowed. When he finally reached her, he leaned down to stare at her dirty face and asked she went. Instead of her throat, his arms wrapped around her waist and his knees buckled; dragging her down with him to curl against her chest. "I don't know... I just..." Couldn't watch you die. Her knees were drawn up and her arms didn't wrap around him; held stiffly above as if afraid to touch him. He held her like she was the one who'd almost died; clinging to her waist and burying his face into her dirty throat. She was lost. She didn't know what to do. In all the scenarios of what would happen when she returned, this was not an option. In one scenario she half expected him to make her beg for her life.
Her arm fell and settled on his shoulders and she closed her eyes as he told her he hated her. "Good. You should." She replied flatly. She was not the nurturing sort. It felt against her nature to comfort him after she'd almost killed him. She couldn't be a nursemaid or coddle him and she was anxious that he wasn't quite done flinging knives at her. She'd never been raised to provide comfort to people. A hug was about as much as she'd ever offered her father and brothers, though they did allow her to lay against them from time to time when lounging about. It was all the affection they showed each other. But she found her arm tightening around his shoulders; fingers curling into his hair as she pulled him closer; twisting her body to contort against him so as much of her smaller frame was pressed against his. She buried her nose against his temple; closing her eyes tightly as his warmth radiated off him. She gave a shuddering gasp; not realizing she was holding her breath. Tears burned in her eyes and she willed herself not to let them fall. She couldn't cry in front of him. "....What happened...?? I don't understand.. I just pushed you..."
His entire body was tense as he held onto her. What he felt was not comfort but more anger. It continued to boil but he was simply unable to unleash it; a failing that saved her. He wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to hear but it certainly wasn’t agreement. Perhaps he didn’t want her to say anything at all. Yet, here again, she offered more fuel, stating that he was more than welcome to hate her. And he did. It burned brighter than ever.
Her arm tightened around him and she shifted slightly, pulling him up, closer, fingers twisting in his hair, face pressed against his temple. Still he found it difficult to stay where he was. Mostly he wanted to shove back from her but he didn’t. His body kept betraying what he thought he wanted; staying when he would go, embracing when he should have put his hands around her throat. Her body seemed to do the same, lengthening against him until they were as intertwined as if they were in bed with each other.
It did not make sense, this sick push and pull they had going. He’d be better off turning her loose but he couldn’t bring himself to part with her. His thoughts drifted back to Gorgoa and her offer to be an outlet to him. Or...it hadn’t even been an offer, had it? It had been some sort of weird, belly up submission; like a dog to its master. It was disgusting. Phaedra never did that; the only woman who’d never done it to him and he couldn’t stand the thought of having to go back to anything less.
She gasped and shuddered, and he tensed, wondering if she was going to cry. He didn’t want to see it but he couldn’t stop himself either. Pulling away, he could just make out her face as she spoke. Her voice betrayed her as she asked him what had happened. His eyes slid away from her.
Somehow none of them had figured it out. He frowned down at his hands as he let her go completely, shifting so that his bare back was pressed against the door. Grit from her dressed covered his palms. Slowly he rubbed them together, watching as the dirt speckled the floor.
The urge to lie to her was strong but she wasn’t an idiot. She’d figure it out eventually. After all, she had been there and seen it. There was nothing he could have hit his head on. All the rocks were at the bottom. When she’d pushed him, his body had launched out into open air, away from the ship. Just the thought of it made his stomach lodge in his throat and he had to take a minute before telling her.
He hated fear. He hated her for making him more afraid than he already had been of the water. Black eyes slid over her at last and he said, “I think you know what happened.”
All at once he couldn’t stand the thought of being next to her anymore. It took some doing but he pushed himself to his feet, standing with his hands on his hips, glaring down at her. She couldn’t have known he couldn't swim but it didn’t matter. If she had been less of a hypocrite, they would have been training for the last two days. Now he wasn’t sure when he’d be strong enough to train, let alone sail.
“Maybe you’re my punishment,” he said, looking now toward the springs. “The longer I keep you the more of a curse you become.” He thought of Stravos and the deal they’d struck, of the gold buried not far from where they were now. He had to get a warship or risk the wrath of being hunted down by Elias. But if he returned her to her family just to be rid of her, he’d have to deal with that aspect and not a minute ago she’d reconfirmed he’d be a fool to allow her to leave. He wouldn’t anyway, curse or no.
“Come on,” he bent down and grabbed her wrist, hauling her to her feet, willing or not. “You’re a mess.” His intentions toward her were swinging wildly from one end of the spectrum to the other as though he could not decide if he liked punishment or not. At the moment, she seemed worse off than he was. He led her, still by her wrist, through the temple and down the passage until they came to the natural cave opening.
She seemed dull and he kept glancing back at her, alternately angry and concerned. “Undress,” his tone was flat. There was nothing romantic in what he was doing. He walked over to the crate of soaps and picked out ones at random. It was hard to see without the clay lamps lit and since Gorgoa had obviously not considered he would come here or leave his bed at all, she had lit none of them. The only light source came from the natural holes in the cave’s roof further in as it led out to the cliffs. Even now the sound of waves reached them, saving them from absolute silence.
When she had done as he asked, he made her get in the springs but he didn’t join her. Instead he pulled up the ends of his pants to his knees and sat on the side, keeping her between his legs as they dipped in the water. Steam drifted up and he unwound what was left of the braids in her hair. She was acting so strange, being so obedient. He’d wanted it for so long and now that she was actually doing it, he found it irritating.
“Dip down,” he commanded, just to see if she’d actually obey with his tone this harsh. When she did, coming up from the water he shook his head at her, cupping her chin and forcing her to look up at him. “What happened to you?” His eyes searched hers, trying to find her but he couldn’t seem to do it. It was like she’d gone away, the way she had when he’d sold her to Imbrasus. “Fight me.” With one hand he gave her a light shove in the water but her reaction, or non-reaction only provoked him.
He slid into the water, pants still on and moved toward her, tilting his head a little and catching her about the waist. It was easier to move in the springs. There was less gravity to contend with and he could allow himself to ease up just a little. “Phaedra…” His brows furrowed. It was as though she was the one who’d almost drown instead of himself and he wasn’t entirely sure why. Everyone on this fucking island was acting too strange around him and he didn’t enjoy the change.
“First Arktos weeps like a woman and now you won’t fight. What is the matter?”
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His entire body was tense as he held onto her. What he felt was not comfort but more anger. It continued to boil but he was simply unable to unleash it; a failing that saved her. He wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to hear but it certainly wasn’t agreement. Perhaps he didn’t want her to say anything at all. Yet, here again, she offered more fuel, stating that he was more than welcome to hate her. And he did. It burned brighter than ever.
Her arm tightened around him and she shifted slightly, pulling him up, closer, fingers twisting in his hair, face pressed against his temple. Still he found it difficult to stay where he was. Mostly he wanted to shove back from her but he didn’t. His body kept betraying what he thought he wanted; staying when he would go, embracing when he should have put his hands around her throat. Her body seemed to do the same, lengthening against him until they were as intertwined as if they were in bed with each other.
It did not make sense, this sick push and pull they had going. He’d be better off turning her loose but he couldn’t bring himself to part with her. His thoughts drifted back to Gorgoa and her offer to be an outlet to him. Or...it hadn’t even been an offer, had it? It had been some sort of weird, belly up submission; like a dog to its master. It was disgusting. Phaedra never did that; the only woman who’d never done it to him and he couldn’t stand the thought of having to go back to anything less.
She gasped and shuddered, and he tensed, wondering if she was going to cry. He didn’t want to see it but he couldn’t stop himself either. Pulling away, he could just make out her face as she spoke. Her voice betrayed her as she asked him what had happened. His eyes slid away from her.
Somehow none of them had figured it out. He frowned down at his hands as he let her go completely, shifting so that his bare back was pressed against the door. Grit from her dressed covered his palms. Slowly he rubbed them together, watching as the dirt speckled the floor.
The urge to lie to her was strong but she wasn’t an idiot. She’d figure it out eventually. After all, she had been there and seen it. There was nothing he could have hit his head on. All the rocks were at the bottom. When she’d pushed him, his body had launched out into open air, away from the ship. Just the thought of it made his stomach lodge in his throat and he had to take a minute before telling her.
He hated fear. He hated her for making him more afraid than he already had been of the water. Black eyes slid over her at last and he said, “I think you know what happened.”
All at once he couldn’t stand the thought of being next to her anymore. It took some doing but he pushed himself to his feet, standing with his hands on his hips, glaring down at her. She couldn’t have known he couldn't swim but it didn’t matter. If she had been less of a hypocrite, they would have been training for the last two days. Now he wasn’t sure when he’d be strong enough to train, let alone sail.
“Maybe you’re my punishment,” he said, looking now toward the springs. “The longer I keep you the more of a curse you become.” He thought of Stravos and the deal they’d struck, of the gold buried not far from where they were now. He had to get a warship or risk the wrath of being hunted down by Elias. But if he returned her to her family just to be rid of her, he’d have to deal with that aspect and not a minute ago she’d reconfirmed he’d be a fool to allow her to leave. He wouldn’t anyway, curse or no.
“Come on,” he bent down and grabbed her wrist, hauling her to her feet, willing or not. “You’re a mess.” His intentions toward her were swinging wildly from one end of the spectrum to the other as though he could not decide if he liked punishment or not. At the moment, she seemed worse off than he was. He led her, still by her wrist, through the temple and down the passage until they came to the natural cave opening.
She seemed dull and he kept glancing back at her, alternately angry and concerned. “Undress,” his tone was flat. There was nothing romantic in what he was doing. He walked over to the crate of soaps and picked out ones at random. It was hard to see without the clay lamps lit and since Gorgoa had obviously not considered he would come here or leave his bed at all, she had lit none of them. The only light source came from the natural holes in the cave’s roof further in as it led out to the cliffs. Even now the sound of waves reached them, saving them from absolute silence.
When she had done as he asked, he made her get in the springs but he didn’t join her. Instead he pulled up the ends of his pants to his knees and sat on the side, keeping her between his legs as they dipped in the water. Steam drifted up and he unwound what was left of the braids in her hair. She was acting so strange, being so obedient. He’d wanted it for so long and now that she was actually doing it, he found it irritating.
“Dip down,” he commanded, just to see if she’d actually obey with his tone this harsh. When she did, coming up from the water he shook his head at her, cupping her chin and forcing her to look up at him. “What happened to you?” His eyes searched hers, trying to find her but he couldn’t seem to do it. It was like she’d gone away, the way she had when he’d sold her to Imbrasus. “Fight me.” With one hand he gave her a light shove in the water but her reaction, or non-reaction only provoked him.
He slid into the water, pants still on and moved toward her, tilting his head a little and catching her about the waist. It was easier to move in the springs. There was less gravity to contend with and he could allow himself to ease up just a little. “Phaedra…” His brows furrowed. It was as though she was the one who’d almost drown instead of himself and he wasn’t entirely sure why. Everyone on this fucking island was acting too strange around him and he didn’t enjoy the change.
“First Arktos weeps like a woman and now you won’t fight. What is the matter?”
His entire body was tense as he held onto her. What he felt was not comfort but more anger. It continued to boil but he was simply unable to unleash it; a failing that saved her. He wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to hear but it certainly wasn’t agreement. Perhaps he didn’t want her to say anything at all. Yet, here again, she offered more fuel, stating that he was more than welcome to hate her. And he did. It burned brighter than ever.
Her arm tightened around him and she shifted slightly, pulling him up, closer, fingers twisting in his hair, face pressed against his temple. Still he found it difficult to stay where he was. Mostly he wanted to shove back from her but he didn’t. His body kept betraying what he thought he wanted; staying when he would go, embracing when he should have put his hands around her throat. Her body seemed to do the same, lengthening against him until they were as intertwined as if they were in bed with each other.
It did not make sense, this sick push and pull they had going. He’d be better off turning her loose but he couldn’t bring himself to part with her. His thoughts drifted back to Gorgoa and her offer to be an outlet to him. Or...it hadn’t even been an offer, had it? It had been some sort of weird, belly up submission; like a dog to its master. It was disgusting. Phaedra never did that; the only woman who’d never done it to him and he couldn’t stand the thought of having to go back to anything less.
She gasped and shuddered, and he tensed, wondering if she was going to cry. He didn’t want to see it but he couldn’t stop himself either. Pulling away, he could just make out her face as she spoke. Her voice betrayed her as she asked him what had happened. His eyes slid away from her.
Somehow none of them had figured it out. He frowned down at his hands as he let her go completely, shifting so that his bare back was pressed against the door. Grit from her dressed covered his palms. Slowly he rubbed them together, watching as the dirt speckled the floor.
The urge to lie to her was strong but she wasn’t an idiot. She’d figure it out eventually. After all, she had been there and seen it. There was nothing he could have hit his head on. All the rocks were at the bottom. When she’d pushed him, his body had launched out into open air, away from the ship. Just the thought of it made his stomach lodge in his throat and he had to take a minute before telling her.
He hated fear. He hated her for making him more afraid than he already had been of the water. Black eyes slid over her at last and he said, “I think you know what happened.”
All at once he couldn’t stand the thought of being next to her anymore. It took some doing but he pushed himself to his feet, standing with his hands on his hips, glaring down at her. She couldn’t have known he couldn't swim but it didn’t matter. If she had been less of a hypocrite, they would have been training for the last two days. Now he wasn’t sure when he’d be strong enough to train, let alone sail.
“Maybe you’re my punishment,” he said, looking now toward the springs. “The longer I keep you the more of a curse you become.” He thought of Stravos and the deal they’d struck, of the gold buried not far from where they were now. He had to get a warship or risk the wrath of being hunted down by Elias. But if he returned her to her family just to be rid of her, he’d have to deal with that aspect and not a minute ago she’d reconfirmed he’d be a fool to allow her to leave. He wouldn’t anyway, curse or no.
“Come on,” he bent down and grabbed her wrist, hauling her to her feet, willing or not. “You’re a mess.” His intentions toward her were swinging wildly from one end of the spectrum to the other as though he could not decide if he liked punishment or not. At the moment, she seemed worse off than he was. He led her, still by her wrist, through the temple and down the passage until they came to the natural cave opening.
She seemed dull and he kept glancing back at her, alternately angry and concerned. “Undress,” his tone was flat. There was nothing romantic in what he was doing. He walked over to the crate of soaps and picked out ones at random. It was hard to see without the clay lamps lit and since Gorgoa had obviously not considered he would come here or leave his bed at all, she had lit none of them. The only light source came from the natural holes in the cave’s roof further in as it led out to the cliffs. Even now the sound of waves reached them, saving them from absolute silence.
When she had done as he asked, he made her get in the springs but he didn’t join her. Instead he pulled up the ends of his pants to his knees and sat on the side, keeping her between his legs as they dipped in the water. Steam drifted up and he unwound what was left of the braids in her hair. She was acting so strange, being so obedient. He’d wanted it for so long and now that she was actually doing it, he found it irritating.
“Dip down,” he commanded, just to see if she’d actually obey with his tone this harsh. When she did, coming up from the water he shook his head at her, cupping her chin and forcing her to look up at him. “What happened to you?” His eyes searched hers, trying to find her but he couldn’t seem to do it. It was like she’d gone away, the way she had when he’d sold her to Imbrasus. “Fight me.” With one hand he gave her a light shove in the water but her reaction, or non-reaction only provoked him.
He slid into the water, pants still on and moved toward her, tilting his head a little and catching her about the waist. It was easier to move in the springs. There was less gravity to contend with and he could allow himself to ease up just a little. “Phaedra…” His brows furrowed. It was as though she was the one who’d almost drown instead of himself and he wasn’t entirely sure why. Everyone on this fucking island was acting too strange around him and he didn’t enjoy the change.
“First Arktos weeps like a woman and now you won’t fight. What is the matter?”
The idea that a captain of a sea vessel being unable to swim was just too outlandish to fathom. There had to be some other outlying explanation. He hit his head on the stern. His clothes got in the way. The idea that he couldn't swim never even crossed her mind; even through hours of thought in the cave. But she hadn't seen him fall. She'd seen the splash. And then there was time in between where she was leaving the room where she was unaware of what was happening. There were too many blank spots; too many holes to fill.
As if the questioned burned him, he released her completely. He leaned back against the door and, with him not holding her, she felt awkward and twisted in an odd direction. She pushed herself up against the back of the door as well and the sat there together, but without looking at each other. It was this awkward truce; him despising her and her not having the where-with-all to wallow in the hatred she had for him; left in an odd limbo between two feelings. One she wasn't sure she felt anymore and the other she didn't have the strength or courage to explore. When he told her she knew what happened, she furrowed her brow and looked at him. He stood quickly from the floor and she watched him as he set his hands on his hips to look down at her. She didn't move. It was a position she was used to after sitting almost the same way all day yesterday. With his words, she looked away. They were biting and perhaps she was a punishment; a plague sent here to destroy him. The idea of it would have thrilled her several days ago..now she had no desire to carry out any such thing. "Then send me home, Lukos.. before one of us ends up dead.."
She said it flatly; as if it was an inevitable and also knowing good and well that he would ignore the request as he had every other time she asked him. He leaned down and took her wrist; hauling her off the floor before pulling her towards the spring. And she let him; not bothering to fight him. What was the point? Anything he did to her she deserved. Would he drown her too? An eye for an eye, after all..though it left them both blind.
Once inside the cave, he told her to undress and she sighed; untying the cords around her waist and pushing the straps of her chiton off her shoulders. She was filthy. She felt the grit of dirt on her skin layered over the salt from the water and sweat. Stepping from the pool of material, she pushed off her shoes and then climbed into the springs as he told her. He climbed up after her but didn't' join her; instead, he sat at the edge and pulled her between his legs. With delicate fingers, he pulled out the knots and braids of her wild hair and she closed her eyes; lowering her chin as he did so. From behind, he told her to dip down and she did so; sinking beneath the water to cover her head and wet her hair. She stood back up and turned to face him; wiping the water from her face, but leaving dirty streaks in the wake of her fingertips. He took her chin and stared at her intently; asking what happened to her... but she had nothing to say to him. He shoved her and told her to fight him. But why? There was no reason to.. he wasn't wrong. He could have died and it would have been her fault. He had every right to hate her. She shook her head and turned around; walking deeper into the pool until the water was around her shoulders. He caught her about her waist and pulled her toward him; twisting her to face him.. It was dark here; she could barely make out his shadow without the lamps and he said her name. Or what she'd told him her name was. "You were dead. I saw it. Your lips were blue..." Her thumb lifted from the water; tracing his lower lip as she looked down at. "You weren't breathing...." She leaned closer; brushing her nose against his mouth so she could feel his breath on his face. "You were.... lifeless..." She remembered how heavy he was as she dragged him out of the water. How his arms floated listlessly at his sides as she swam him to shore. Her other hand trailed down his bicep; strong and firm around her waist. "If Arktos wasn't there.... ...I couldn't...." ...She couldn't finish what she was saying. Her mouth found his; tentatively at first and then more forcefully; demanding and desperate. Her legs lifted in the buoyant pool and she wrapped them about his waist; rising so that he had to raise his chin to keep kissing her. Her arms circled his shoulders and clung to him; fingers tangling in his hair. Because he was here. He was real and tangible and very much alive. And she'd almost lost him.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
The idea that a captain of a sea vessel being unable to swim was just too outlandish to fathom. There had to be some other outlying explanation. He hit his head on the stern. His clothes got in the way. The idea that he couldn't swim never even crossed her mind; even through hours of thought in the cave. But she hadn't seen him fall. She'd seen the splash. And then there was time in between where she was leaving the room where she was unaware of what was happening. There were too many blank spots; too many holes to fill.
As if the questioned burned him, he released her completely. He leaned back against the door and, with him not holding her, she felt awkward and twisted in an odd direction. She pushed herself up against the back of the door as well and the sat there together, but without looking at each other. It was this awkward truce; him despising her and her not having the where-with-all to wallow in the hatred she had for him; left in an odd limbo between two feelings. One she wasn't sure she felt anymore and the other she didn't have the strength or courage to explore. When he told her she knew what happened, she furrowed her brow and looked at him. He stood quickly from the floor and she watched him as he set his hands on his hips to look down at her. She didn't move. It was a position she was used to after sitting almost the same way all day yesterday. With his words, she looked away. They were biting and perhaps she was a punishment; a plague sent here to destroy him. The idea of it would have thrilled her several days ago..now she had no desire to carry out any such thing. "Then send me home, Lukos.. before one of us ends up dead.."
She said it flatly; as if it was an inevitable and also knowing good and well that he would ignore the request as he had every other time she asked him. He leaned down and took her wrist; hauling her off the floor before pulling her towards the spring. And she let him; not bothering to fight him. What was the point? Anything he did to her she deserved. Would he drown her too? An eye for an eye, after all..though it left them both blind.
Once inside the cave, he told her to undress and she sighed; untying the cords around her waist and pushing the straps of her chiton off her shoulders. She was filthy. She felt the grit of dirt on her skin layered over the salt from the water and sweat. Stepping from the pool of material, she pushed off her shoes and then climbed into the springs as he told her. He climbed up after her but didn't' join her; instead, he sat at the edge and pulled her between his legs. With delicate fingers, he pulled out the knots and braids of her wild hair and she closed her eyes; lowering her chin as he did so. From behind, he told her to dip down and she did so; sinking beneath the water to cover her head and wet her hair. She stood back up and turned to face him; wiping the water from her face, but leaving dirty streaks in the wake of her fingertips. He took her chin and stared at her intently; asking what happened to her... but she had nothing to say to him. He shoved her and told her to fight him. But why? There was no reason to.. he wasn't wrong. He could have died and it would have been her fault. He had every right to hate her. She shook her head and turned around; walking deeper into the pool until the water was around her shoulders. He caught her about her waist and pulled her toward him; twisting her to face him.. It was dark here; she could barely make out his shadow without the lamps and he said her name. Or what she'd told him her name was. "You were dead. I saw it. Your lips were blue..." Her thumb lifted from the water; tracing his lower lip as she looked down at. "You weren't breathing...." She leaned closer; brushing her nose against his mouth so she could feel his breath on his face. "You were.... lifeless..." She remembered how heavy he was as she dragged him out of the water. How his arms floated listlessly at his sides as she swam him to shore. Her other hand trailed down his bicep; strong and firm around her waist. "If Arktos wasn't there.... ...I couldn't...." ...She couldn't finish what she was saying. Her mouth found his; tentatively at first and then more forcefully; demanding and desperate. Her legs lifted in the buoyant pool and she wrapped them about his waist; rising so that he had to raise his chin to keep kissing her. Her arms circled his shoulders and clung to him; fingers tangling in his hair. Because he was here. He was real and tangible and very much alive. And she'd almost lost him.
The idea that a captain of a sea vessel being unable to swim was just too outlandish to fathom. There had to be some other outlying explanation. He hit his head on the stern. His clothes got in the way. The idea that he couldn't swim never even crossed her mind; even through hours of thought in the cave. But she hadn't seen him fall. She'd seen the splash. And then there was time in between where she was leaving the room where she was unaware of what was happening. There were too many blank spots; too many holes to fill.
As if the questioned burned him, he released her completely. He leaned back against the door and, with him not holding her, she felt awkward and twisted in an odd direction. She pushed herself up against the back of the door as well and the sat there together, but without looking at each other. It was this awkward truce; him despising her and her not having the where-with-all to wallow in the hatred she had for him; left in an odd limbo between two feelings. One she wasn't sure she felt anymore and the other she didn't have the strength or courage to explore. When he told her she knew what happened, she furrowed her brow and looked at him. He stood quickly from the floor and she watched him as he set his hands on his hips to look down at her. She didn't move. It was a position she was used to after sitting almost the same way all day yesterday. With his words, she looked away. They were biting and perhaps she was a punishment; a plague sent here to destroy him. The idea of it would have thrilled her several days ago..now she had no desire to carry out any such thing. "Then send me home, Lukos.. before one of us ends up dead.."
She said it flatly; as if it was an inevitable and also knowing good and well that he would ignore the request as he had every other time she asked him. He leaned down and took her wrist; hauling her off the floor before pulling her towards the spring. And she let him; not bothering to fight him. What was the point? Anything he did to her she deserved. Would he drown her too? An eye for an eye, after all..though it left them both blind.
Once inside the cave, he told her to undress and she sighed; untying the cords around her waist and pushing the straps of her chiton off her shoulders. She was filthy. She felt the grit of dirt on her skin layered over the salt from the water and sweat. Stepping from the pool of material, she pushed off her shoes and then climbed into the springs as he told her. He climbed up after her but didn't' join her; instead, he sat at the edge and pulled her between his legs. With delicate fingers, he pulled out the knots and braids of her wild hair and she closed her eyes; lowering her chin as he did so. From behind, he told her to dip down and she did so; sinking beneath the water to cover her head and wet her hair. She stood back up and turned to face him; wiping the water from her face, but leaving dirty streaks in the wake of her fingertips. He took her chin and stared at her intently; asking what happened to her... but she had nothing to say to him. He shoved her and told her to fight him. But why? There was no reason to.. he wasn't wrong. He could have died and it would have been her fault. He had every right to hate her. She shook her head and turned around; walking deeper into the pool until the water was around her shoulders. He caught her about her waist and pulled her toward him; twisting her to face him.. It was dark here; she could barely make out his shadow without the lamps and he said her name. Or what she'd told him her name was. "You were dead. I saw it. Your lips were blue..." Her thumb lifted from the water; tracing his lower lip as she looked down at. "You weren't breathing...." She leaned closer; brushing her nose against his mouth so she could feel his breath on his face. "You were.... lifeless..." She remembered how heavy he was as she dragged him out of the water. How his arms floated listlessly at his sides as she swam him to shore. Her other hand trailed down his bicep; strong and firm around her waist. "If Arktos wasn't there.... ...I couldn't...." ...She couldn't finish what she was saying. Her mouth found his; tentatively at first and then more forcefully; demanding and desperate. Her legs lifted in the buoyant pool and she wrapped them about his waist; rising so that he had to raise his chin to keep kissing her. Her arms circled his shoulders and clung to him; fingers tangling in his hair. Because he was here. He was real and tangible and very much alive. And she'd almost lost him.
He imagined himself as she described; cold, lifeless. Even easier to imagine was Arktos hovering over him. The village women had told him everything, but up to now, he’d ignored their stories. It was impossible to reconcile what he’d experienced with their version of events.
She smoothed her thumb across his mouth. Water trickled from her touch, dripping down his chin and falling back into the spring. The hazel in her eyes was lost to shadow, leaving the whites of her eyes in stark contrast. He did not stop her leaning against him.
Beneath the water, his palms were flat on the curves of her hips. He did not explore her body. Instead he held her in place as she spoke. Her words danced around the truth. Her actions did not.
Even as she spoke, her breath whispering against his lips, he stood immobile. His mind was blank. She could not seriously be suggesting what he understood her to mean. Her fingers traced his arm. He closed his eyes, breathing slowly.
Her head tilted up. Tentative lips found his, already knowing exactly how to move. The touch was soft, unlike her enough to cause him to frown. He allowed her to kiss him but his lips were still. In a moment she pressed harder, desperate, unwilling to be denied.
Her arms snaked around his shoulders and she used them to leverage herself up, wrapping her legs around him. In a moment her mouth threatened to leave his. Tipping his head back, he followed her, his lips softening at lat. The kiss felt like the first gasp of air after he’d been holding his breath too long. She clung to him as his arms finally encircled her, locking her tight against him.
This was not coming from someone wanting him dead. It was not the kiss of lust. He held her up, knowing she kissed him now for a different reason. Perhaps several reasons, all of them complicated. His were, anyway.
They stayed in the spring for eternity. The water kept the chill of the cave at bay and as long as he kissed her, they were unable to talk. He kept her tongue occupied with his because he did not want to hear her lament about Athenia. While she clung to him, her naked body pressed to his, it was easy to pretend that she actually wanted to stay.
Eventually they had to stop and when they did, he spoke first. “You shouldn’t have saved me.” Drowning had been quick. A fast torture. Better than he should have received. He kept one hand on the back of her neck, his fingers playing in her hair. There was more that he wanted to say, more he wanted to admit; that of all the people on this forsaken island who deserved death, he was the most guilty.
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He imagined himself as she described; cold, lifeless. Even easier to imagine was Arktos hovering over him. The village women had told him everything, but up to now, he’d ignored their stories. It was impossible to reconcile what he’d experienced with their version of events.
She smoothed her thumb across his mouth. Water trickled from her touch, dripping down his chin and falling back into the spring. The hazel in her eyes was lost to shadow, leaving the whites of her eyes in stark contrast. He did not stop her leaning against him.
Beneath the water, his palms were flat on the curves of her hips. He did not explore her body. Instead he held her in place as she spoke. Her words danced around the truth. Her actions did not.
Even as she spoke, her breath whispering against his lips, he stood immobile. His mind was blank. She could not seriously be suggesting what he understood her to mean. Her fingers traced his arm. He closed his eyes, breathing slowly.
Her head tilted up. Tentative lips found his, already knowing exactly how to move. The touch was soft, unlike her enough to cause him to frown. He allowed her to kiss him but his lips were still. In a moment she pressed harder, desperate, unwilling to be denied.
Her arms snaked around his shoulders and she used them to leverage herself up, wrapping her legs around him. In a moment her mouth threatened to leave his. Tipping his head back, he followed her, his lips softening at lat. The kiss felt like the first gasp of air after he’d been holding his breath too long. She clung to him as his arms finally encircled her, locking her tight against him.
This was not coming from someone wanting him dead. It was not the kiss of lust. He held her up, knowing she kissed him now for a different reason. Perhaps several reasons, all of them complicated. His were, anyway.
They stayed in the spring for eternity. The water kept the chill of the cave at bay and as long as he kissed her, they were unable to talk. He kept her tongue occupied with his because he did not want to hear her lament about Athenia. While she clung to him, her naked body pressed to his, it was easy to pretend that she actually wanted to stay.
Eventually they had to stop and when they did, he spoke first. “You shouldn’t have saved me.” Drowning had been quick. A fast torture. Better than he should have received. He kept one hand on the back of her neck, his fingers playing in her hair. There was more that he wanted to say, more he wanted to admit; that of all the people on this forsaken island who deserved death, he was the most guilty.
He imagined himself as she described; cold, lifeless. Even easier to imagine was Arktos hovering over him. The village women had told him everything, but up to now, he’d ignored their stories. It was impossible to reconcile what he’d experienced with their version of events.
She smoothed her thumb across his mouth. Water trickled from her touch, dripping down his chin and falling back into the spring. The hazel in her eyes was lost to shadow, leaving the whites of her eyes in stark contrast. He did not stop her leaning against him.
Beneath the water, his palms were flat on the curves of her hips. He did not explore her body. Instead he held her in place as she spoke. Her words danced around the truth. Her actions did not.
Even as she spoke, her breath whispering against his lips, he stood immobile. His mind was blank. She could not seriously be suggesting what he understood her to mean. Her fingers traced his arm. He closed his eyes, breathing slowly.
Her head tilted up. Tentative lips found his, already knowing exactly how to move. The touch was soft, unlike her enough to cause him to frown. He allowed her to kiss him but his lips were still. In a moment she pressed harder, desperate, unwilling to be denied.
Her arms snaked around his shoulders and she used them to leverage herself up, wrapping her legs around him. In a moment her mouth threatened to leave his. Tipping his head back, he followed her, his lips softening at lat. The kiss felt like the first gasp of air after he’d been holding his breath too long. She clung to him as his arms finally encircled her, locking her tight against him.
This was not coming from someone wanting him dead. It was not the kiss of lust. He held her up, knowing she kissed him now for a different reason. Perhaps several reasons, all of them complicated. His were, anyway.
They stayed in the spring for eternity. The water kept the chill of the cave at bay and as long as he kissed her, they were unable to talk. He kept her tongue occupied with his because he did not want to hear her lament about Athenia. While she clung to him, her naked body pressed to his, it was easy to pretend that she actually wanted to stay.
Eventually they had to stop and when they did, he spoke first. “You shouldn’t have saved me.” Drowning had been quick. A fast torture. Better than he should have received. He kept one hand on the back of her neck, his fingers playing in her hair. There was more that he wanted to say, more he wanted to admit; that of all the people on this forsaken island who deserved death, he was the most guilty.
Thalia could feel him restraining. He didn't push her away, but he wouldn't respond. But she didn't care. She needed to feel him against her; strong and virile and alive. She needed him to know she didn't want him to die. That she would have never intended for it to happen. But she had no words to tell him. She couldn't tell him. But she could show him. And she did. Until finally his mouth grew softer beneath hers and his arms twisted around her back; clinging to her.
His mouth slanted against hers; accepting her demand; opening to her so that her tongue could find his. Her hand trailed against his jaw; brushing his cheek with her thumb; memorizing the lines of his face. She needed to erase the image of him laying on the beach from her head. The image of him lifeless with blue lips haunted her and she broke the kiss; gasping. But she fought her own anxiety and kissed him again. His lips were no longer blue. She could feel his breath on her. His hands wrapped around her; crushing her body against his. Neither of them broke enough to undress him.. for now, this was enough. The heat of the pool and the warmth of her arms helped thaw her dissonance from being isolated for so long. Tears streamed down her face, but she didn't whimper or alert him to them. They just were.
Finally, when they were both breathless and weak from the heat of the pool and the dopamine that coursed through them, he pulled away. She rested her forehead against his as he muttered that she shouldn't have saved him. Perhaps she shouldn't have. But even without having some sort of attachment to him as she apparently did, letting him drown wouldn't have benefited her in any way. His crew would have turned on her and she'd be dead. Or sold.
"You shouldn't die so easily..." Fingers caressed his cheek and her mouth followed their trail; brushing kisses against unshaven skin; down his jaw as she nudged his earlobe with her nose. "If I kill you... I want you to see me coming..." Her mouth turned up slightly. But it was an empty threat. She knew that now. She couldn't kill him any more than she could any of her brothers. It was just like when he told her he hated her. She knew he didn't.
She leaned back and cupped his cheeks with her hands; staring at him in the darkness. She struggled with what to say to him. Nothing felt right. Whatever was happening between them was far more complicated than she could put words to. She still hated him for taking her; for not returning her. For all that he'd done up until he'd brought her back to the ship after finding her when she left Imbrascus. But since then? Things had changed. He wasn't treating her like property and the only thing he denied her was the one thing she couldn't let go. Her family. Her own choice to go home. It was tangled and twisted. It couldn't be easy. Nothing with them ever was. Neither of them gave in to the other and even now she couldn't say what she wanted any more than he could.
Her fingertips grazed his chin and then pressed against his chest over his heart as her mouth brushed against his again. "I should wash.. and....eat. And then...you should show me how much you hate me. .....Maybe twice..."
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
Thalia could feel him restraining. He didn't push her away, but he wouldn't respond. But she didn't care. She needed to feel him against her; strong and virile and alive. She needed him to know she didn't want him to die. That she would have never intended for it to happen. But she had no words to tell him. She couldn't tell him. But she could show him. And she did. Until finally his mouth grew softer beneath hers and his arms twisted around her back; clinging to her.
His mouth slanted against hers; accepting her demand; opening to her so that her tongue could find his. Her hand trailed against his jaw; brushing his cheek with her thumb; memorizing the lines of his face. She needed to erase the image of him laying on the beach from her head. The image of him lifeless with blue lips haunted her and she broke the kiss; gasping. But she fought her own anxiety and kissed him again. His lips were no longer blue. She could feel his breath on her. His hands wrapped around her; crushing her body against his. Neither of them broke enough to undress him.. for now, this was enough. The heat of the pool and the warmth of her arms helped thaw her dissonance from being isolated for so long. Tears streamed down her face, but she didn't whimper or alert him to them. They just were.
Finally, when they were both breathless and weak from the heat of the pool and the dopamine that coursed through them, he pulled away. She rested her forehead against his as he muttered that she shouldn't have saved him. Perhaps she shouldn't have. But even without having some sort of attachment to him as she apparently did, letting him drown wouldn't have benefited her in any way. His crew would have turned on her and she'd be dead. Or sold.
"You shouldn't die so easily..." Fingers caressed his cheek and her mouth followed their trail; brushing kisses against unshaven skin; down his jaw as she nudged his earlobe with her nose. "If I kill you... I want you to see me coming..." Her mouth turned up slightly. But it was an empty threat. She knew that now. She couldn't kill him any more than she could any of her brothers. It was just like when he told her he hated her. She knew he didn't.
She leaned back and cupped his cheeks with her hands; staring at him in the darkness. She struggled with what to say to him. Nothing felt right. Whatever was happening between them was far more complicated than she could put words to. She still hated him for taking her; for not returning her. For all that he'd done up until he'd brought her back to the ship after finding her when she left Imbrascus. But since then? Things had changed. He wasn't treating her like property and the only thing he denied her was the one thing she couldn't let go. Her family. Her own choice to go home. It was tangled and twisted. It couldn't be easy. Nothing with them ever was. Neither of them gave in to the other and even now she couldn't say what she wanted any more than he could.
Her fingertips grazed his chin and then pressed against his chest over his heart as her mouth brushed against his again. "I should wash.. and....eat. And then...you should show me how much you hate me. .....Maybe twice..."
Thalia could feel him restraining. He didn't push her away, but he wouldn't respond. But she didn't care. She needed to feel him against her; strong and virile and alive. She needed him to know she didn't want him to die. That she would have never intended for it to happen. But she had no words to tell him. She couldn't tell him. But she could show him. And she did. Until finally his mouth grew softer beneath hers and his arms twisted around her back; clinging to her.
His mouth slanted against hers; accepting her demand; opening to her so that her tongue could find his. Her hand trailed against his jaw; brushing his cheek with her thumb; memorizing the lines of his face. She needed to erase the image of him laying on the beach from her head. The image of him lifeless with blue lips haunted her and she broke the kiss; gasping. But she fought her own anxiety and kissed him again. His lips were no longer blue. She could feel his breath on her. His hands wrapped around her; crushing her body against his. Neither of them broke enough to undress him.. for now, this was enough. The heat of the pool and the warmth of her arms helped thaw her dissonance from being isolated for so long. Tears streamed down her face, but she didn't whimper or alert him to them. They just were.
Finally, when they were both breathless and weak from the heat of the pool and the dopamine that coursed through them, he pulled away. She rested her forehead against his as he muttered that she shouldn't have saved him. Perhaps she shouldn't have. But even without having some sort of attachment to him as she apparently did, letting him drown wouldn't have benefited her in any way. His crew would have turned on her and she'd be dead. Or sold.
"You shouldn't die so easily..." Fingers caressed his cheek and her mouth followed their trail; brushing kisses against unshaven skin; down his jaw as she nudged his earlobe with her nose. "If I kill you... I want you to see me coming..." Her mouth turned up slightly. But it was an empty threat. She knew that now. She couldn't kill him any more than she could any of her brothers. It was just like when he told her he hated her. She knew he didn't.
She leaned back and cupped his cheeks with her hands; staring at him in the darkness. She struggled with what to say to him. Nothing felt right. Whatever was happening between them was far more complicated than she could put words to. She still hated him for taking her; for not returning her. For all that he'd done up until he'd brought her back to the ship after finding her when she left Imbrascus. But since then? Things had changed. He wasn't treating her like property and the only thing he denied her was the one thing she couldn't let go. Her family. Her own choice to go home. It was tangled and twisted. It couldn't be easy. Nothing with them ever was. Neither of them gave in to the other and even now she couldn't say what she wanted any more than he could.
Her fingertips grazed his chin and then pressed against his chest over his heart as her mouth brushed against his again. "I should wash.. and....eat. And then...you should show me how much you hate me. .....Maybe twice..."
In the dark it was easy to forget Arktos or Gorgoa outside. Her body was hot against him. Now that she was wet, her skin was slick and cleaner than it had been. He slid his hands up her back, focusing on the feeling of her lips grazing his cheek, grinning at her empty threat. When she pulled away, searching his eyes with hers, he stared steadily back. As her fingers touched his chin, he raised it, easing away from her touch but she drew him back, kissing him again, not allowing him to get away.
Her fingers dragged down over his chest, their kiss coming to a natural end once more. "I should wash.. and....eat. And then...you should show me how much you hate me. .....Maybe twice..." she said. He narrowed his eyes at her, letting them both sink deeper into the water until it came up to her shoulders. The feel of her against him should have been inducement enough to take her right there, but he made no move to do so. Instead he reached down, trailing his fingers over the top of one of her thighs.
His hand moved down, his knuckles gliding along to her V. In the semi dark, he couldn’t see much of her face but he could tell her lips were parted. Leaning forward, he kissed her lightly, his fingers rubbing between her soft folds, finding her nub. In slow, calculated circles, he stroked her, taking his mouth away from hers as he did so and catching her earlobe in his teeth. This was for her alone.
Nuzzling away her hair away from her neck, he swirled his tongue at the curve of her shoulder, sucking and nipping. Her chest rose and fell in time with his as her hips rocked against his hand but he would not give her what he knew she actually wanted. His pants were still a barrier between them that he kept for now. A mark formed on her neck but he didn’t let up, with his mouth or his hand.
Maybe he was still angry with her; enough to mark her, at least. Her panting grew intense and still he held off entering her. She was grinding against him and for a minute, he thought he might give in but he waited until she seemed to be coming back down. Her breath was tapering off and eventually he removed his hand, pulling away from her completely, saying nothing. Instead he simply reached out for the soap and took hold of her hand, pressing it into her palm.
He hauled himself up onto the edge of the pool, pulling his legs up to his chest and resting his chin on his knees. After a moment, he pressed his forehead there instead, closing his eyes. Fatigue hit him. He felt heavy. For the whole of her bath, he stayed, waiting until she was finished but he didn’t watch. Instead he listened to the waves in the distance and her movements in the water.
When she was done, he rose with her, letting her lead the way into the temple. Food was on the table and he drifted over to it, interested for the first time in the last few days. He realized he hadn’t eaten properly since before their fight. “I need sleep,” he said after a moment, glancing up at her. His eyes traveled over her face, now that he could see more of it in the only slightly better light of the main temple. “So do you.”
He hadn’t bothered with drying off with a sheet. Water dripped off him, creating puddles wherever he stood as though he just simply didn’t care anymore. Perhaps he didn’t. What he wanted was sleep. The rest of his plans and hers could wait. The world could burn for all he cared. It would wait until he could think; think about what she’d said, had admitted.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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In the dark it was easy to forget Arktos or Gorgoa outside. Her body was hot against him. Now that she was wet, her skin was slick and cleaner than it had been. He slid his hands up her back, focusing on the feeling of her lips grazing his cheek, grinning at her empty threat. When she pulled away, searching his eyes with hers, he stared steadily back. As her fingers touched his chin, he raised it, easing away from her touch but she drew him back, kissing him again, not allowing him to get away.
Her fingers dragged down over his chest, their kiss coming to a natural end once more. "I should wash.. and....eat. And then...you should show me how much you hate me. .....Maybe twice..." she said. He narrowed his eyes at her, letting them both sink deeper into the water until it came up to her shoulders. The feel of her against him should have been inducement enough to take her right there, but he made no move to do so. Instead he reached down, trailing his fingers over the top of one of her thighs.
His hand moved down, his knuckles gliding along to her V. In the semi dark, he couldn’t see much of her face but he could tell her lips were parted. Leaning forward, he kissed her lightly, his fingers rubbing between her soft folds, finding her nub. In slow, calculated circles, he stroked her, taking his mouth away from hers as he did so and catching her earlobe in his teeth. This was for her alone.
Nuzzling away her hair away from her neck, he swirled his tongue at the curve of her shoulder, sucking and nipping. Her chest rose and fell in time with his as her hips rocked against his hand but he would not give her what he knew she actually wanted. His pants were still a barrier between them that he kept for now. A mark formed on her neck but he didn’t let up, with his mouth or his hand.
Maybe he was still angry with her; enough to mark her, at least. Her panting grew intense and still he held off entering her. She was grinding against him and for a minute, he thought he might give in but he waited until she seemed to be coming back down. Her breath was tapering off and eventually he removed his hand, pulling away from her completely, saying nothing. Instead he simply reached out for the soap and took hold of her hand, pressing it into her palm.
He hauled himself up onto the edge of the pool, pulling his legs up to his chest and resting his chin on his knees. After a moment, he pressed his forehead there instead, closing his eyes. Fatigue hit him. He felt heavy. For the whole of her bath, he stayed, waiting until she was finished but he didn’t watch. Instead he listened to the waves in the distance and her movements in the water.
When she was done, he rose with her, letting her lead the way into the temple. Food was on the table and he drifted over to it, interested for the first time in the last few days. He realized he hadn’t eaten properly since before their fight. “I need sleep,” he said after a moment, glancing up at her. His eyes traveled over her face, now that he could see more of it in the only slightly better light of the main temple. “So do you.”
He hadn’t bothered with drying off with a sheet. Water dripped off him, creating puddles wherever he stood as though he just simply didn’t care anymore. Perhaps he didn’t. What he wanted was sleep. The rest of his plans and hers could wait. The world could burn for all he cared. It would wait until he could think; think about what she’d said, had admitted.
In the dark it was easy to forget Arktos or Gorgoa outside. Her body was hot against him. Now that she was wet, her skin was slick and cleaner than it had been. He slid his hands up her back, focusing on the feeling of her lips grazing his cheek, grinning at her empty threat. When she pulled away, searching his eyes with hers, he stared steadily back. As her fingers touched his chin, he raised it, easing away from her touch but she drew him back, kissing him again, not allowing him to get away.
Her fingers dragged down over his chest, their kiss coming to a natural end once more. "I should wash.. and....eat. And then...you should show me how much you hate me. .....Maybe twice..." she said. He narrowed his eyes at her, letting them both sink deeper into the water until it came up to her shoulders. The feel of her against him should have been inducement enough to take her right there, but he made no move to do so. Instead he reached down, trailing his fingers over the top of one of her thighs.
His hand moved down, his knuckles gliding along to her V. In the semi dark, he couldn’t see much of her face but he could tell her lips were parted. Leaning forward, he kissed her lightly, his fingers rubbing between her soft folds, finding her nub. In slow, calculated circles, he stroked her, taking his mouth away from hers as he did so and catching her earlobe in his teeth. This was for her alone.
Nuzzling away her hair away from her neck, he swirled his tongue at the curve of her shoulder, sucking and nipping. Her chest rose and fell in time with his as her hips rocked against his hand but he would not give her what he knew she actually wanted. His pants were still a barrier between them that he kept for now. A mark formed on her neck but he didn’t let up, with his mouth or his hand.
Maybe he was still angry with her; enough to mark her, at least. Her panting grew intense and still he held off entering her. She was grinding against him and for a minute, he thought he might give in but he waited until she seemed to be coming back down. Her breath was tapering off and eventually he removed his hand, pulling away from her completely, saying nothing. Instead he simply reached out for the soap and took hold of her hand, pressing it into her palm.
He hauled himself up onto the edge of the pool, pulling his legs up to his chest and resting his chin on his knees. After a moment, he pressed his forehead there instead, closing his eyes. Fatigue hit him. He felt heavy. For the whole of her bath, he stayed, waiting until she was finished but he didn’t watch. Instead he listened to the waves in the distance and her movements in the water.
When she was done, he rose with her, letting her lead the way into the temple. Food was on the table and he drifted over to it, interested for the first time in the last few days. He realized he hadn’t eaten properly since before their fight. “I need sleep,” he said after a moment, glancing up at her. His eyes traveled over her face, now that he could see more of it in the only slightly better light of the main temple. “So do you.”
He hadn’t bothered with drying off with a sheet. Water dripped off him, creating puddles wherever he stood as though he just simply didn’t care anymore. Perhaps he didn’t. What he wanted was sleep. The rest of his plans and hers could wait. The world could burn for all he cared. It would wait until he could think; think about what she’d said, had admitted.
Thalia's hand eased around his shoulders as his trailed down the side of her torso with the intent of getting down. But with her words, he lowered them in the pool and grazed his knuckles against her lower stomach. She froze against him as his hand dipped between her thighs; sucking in a breath as fingers found the sensitive nub that controlled every nerve ending in her body. He said nothing as he moved his hand against her and neither did she; the silence of the cave and the waves in the distance was the only thing to interrupt their staggered breathing. Her fingers curled into his hair again; holding him close as he buried his face into her neck. She gripped his scalp and breathed into his ear as, with practiced hands, he urged a release from her. She slowly rocked her hips against him; wanting more, but there was something insanely erotic about just this.
Small whimpers of pleasure echoed in the cave around them as he urged her higher; her chin tilting as his mouth laid claim to her neck; branding her as his in his own way. She didn't have the ability to care; it all just felt too good. When her release finally came she cried out; shuddering against him as she buried her mouth into his own shoulder; her whole body tensed with ecstasy as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her; rocking her to her core. When she finally came down, her whole body eased against him; her fingers releasing his hair as she melted with a longsuffering purr of content.
Finally, he let her go and she untangled herself from him; feeling far too light without being anchored against him. Without a word, he handed her some soap and moved away and she stifled a girlish grin before turning as well to sink beneath the water. She let her whole body go limp beneath the water and allowed herself to revel in the delicious tingling left behind after he'd pleasured her. When she needed oxygen, she stood back up in the pool and surfaced before running the soap along her skin; washing off three days worth of dirt, sweat, and salt. She washed her hair in the hot spring water and breathed in the soothing smell of lavender that scented the spongy bar. When she'd finished, she let go of the rest of the soap and rinsed off before swimming back to where she'd entered; Lukos waited silently for her. She pulled herself out of the tub and brushed her hand over his shoulder unconsciously; just needing to touch him as she moved passed to go find a fresh sheet. With it wrapped around her frame, they walked to the food and she ate lazily; her body contented finally after being so anxious for so long. She stared at him as he picked over the food until he looked at her wearily; telling her he needed to sleep. She was only so tired as her body felt satiated after he'd given her release, but it was superficial. Where she to lay down, it wouldn't be for long.
She turned and stepped over to him; his body leaving a puddle on the floor that she stepped into and she wrinkled her nose as she lifted a grape to his mouth. "I won't stop you... But eat first. You need your strength." She pushed back a few plates on the table and leaned her hand against his chest. "Sit..." She pushed until he sat back on the table and she shifted to stand between his legs; not worried about how wet he was.
She fed him slowly; rotating bites between herself and him. From time to time, she'd lean forward and brush slow kisses against his jaw as she gave him another bite; not enough to urge him to take her, but just enough to feel him against her; to smell his skin and feel the rough texture of his jaw against her nose.
When they'd eaten their fill, she stood back so he could get off the table and then leaned forward; tugging at the laces of his pants that held them together. She looked up at him through thick lashes as she spoke. "You can't sleep in wet pants..." So she pushed them off his hips; grazing her hands over his backside as she moved them down his thighs; crouching down to push them over his knees and calves so he could step out of them. She was a horrible nursemaid. She never claimed to be one. She knew he needed to sleep.. and so she fought the urge to touch him or stoke his fire. There would be time for that, even if delaying their coupling was a pleasurable torture for her. Fingers laced with his and she backed up to the bed; pulling him with her before she raised the sheet and bent her knee; climbing up on the bed. She crawled backward until he was in the bed too and then lay down when he did; her belly full and her body buzzing with contentment and the desire for even more. Instead of indulging, she curled up next to him; Tangling her legs in his as she buried her face into the heated warmth of his shoulder. Her fingers traced lazy circles on his chest as she closed her eyes; relenting to a nap as she'd missed being wrapped up next to him. After two nights in the cave, the bed was magically wonderful; even if it was broad daylight outside. No one would disturb them.
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Thalia's hand eased around his shoulders as his trailed down the side of her torso with the intent of getting down. But with her words, he lowered them in the pool and grazed his knuckles against her lower stomach. She froze against him as his hand dipped between her thighs; sucking in a breath as fingers found the sensitive nub that controlled every nerve ending in her body. He said nothing as he moved his hand against her and neither did she; the silence of the cave and the waves in the distance was the only thing to interrupt their staggered breathing. Her fingers curled into his hair again; holding him close as he buried his face into her neck. She gripped his scalp and breathed into his ear as, with practiced hands, he urged a release from her. She slowly rocked her hips against him; wanting more, but there was something insanely erotic about just this.
Small whimpers of pleasure echoed in the cave around them as he urged her higher; her chin tilting as his mouth laid claim to her neck; branding her as his in his own way. She didn't have the ability to care; it all just felt too good. When her release finally came she cried out; shuddering against him as she buried her mouth into his own shoulder; her whole body tensed with ecstasy as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her; rocking her to her core. When she finally came down, her whole body eased against him; her fingers releasing his hair as she melted with a longsuffering purr of content.
Finally, he let her go and she untangled herself from him; feeling far too light without being anchored against him. Without a word, he handed her some soap and moved away and she stifled a girlish grin before turning as well to sink beneath the water. She let her whole body go limp beneath the water and allowed herself to revel in the delicious tingling left behind after he'd pleasured her. When she needed oxygen, she stood back up in the pool and surfaced before running the soap along her skin; washing off three days worth of dirt, sweat, and salt. She washed her hair in the hot spring water and breathed in the soothing smell of lavender that scented the spongy bar. When she'd finished, she let go of the rest of the soap and rinsed off before swimming back to where she'd entered; Lukos waited silently for her. She pulled herself out of the tub and brushed her hand over his shoulder unconsciously; just needing to touch him as she moved passed to go find a fresh sheet. With it wrapped around her frame, they walked to the food and she ate lazily; her body contented finally after being so anxious for so long. She stared at him as he picked over the food until he looked at her wearily; telling her he needed to sleep. She was only so tired as her body felt satiated after he'd given her release, but it was superficial. Where she to lay down, it wouldn't be for long.
She turned and stepped over to him; his body leaving a puddle on the floor that she stepped into and she wrinkled her nose as she lifted a grape to his mouth. "I won't stop you... But eat first. You need your strength." She pushed back a few plates on the table and leaned her hand against his chest. "Sit..." She pushed until he sat back on the table and she shifted to stand between his legs; not worried about how wet he was.
She fed him slowly; rotating bites between herself and him. From time to time, she'd lean forward and brush slow kisses against his jaw as she gave him another bite; not enough to urge him to take her, but just enough to feel him against her; to smell his skin and feel the rough texture of his jaw against her nose.
When they'd eaten their fill, she stood back so he could get off the table and then leaned forward; tugging at the laces of his pants that held them together. She looked up at him through thick lashes as she spoke. "You can't sleep in wet pants..." So she pushed them off his hips; grazing her hands over his backside as she moved them down his thighs; crouching down to push them over his knees and calves so he could step out of them. She was a horrible nursemaid. She never claimed to be one. She knew he needed to sleep.. and so she fought the urge to touch him or stoke his fire. There would be time for that, even if delaying their coupling was a pleasurable torture for her. Fingers laced with his and she backed up to the bed; pulling him with her before she raised the sheet and bent her knee; climbing up on the bed. She crawled backward until he was in the bed too and then lay down when he did; her belly full and her body buzzing with contentment and the desire for even more. Instead of indulging, she curled up next to him; Tangling her legs in his as she buried her face into the heated warmth of his shoulder. Her fingers traced lazy circles on his chest as she closed her eyes; relenting to a nap as she'd missed being wrapped up next to him. After two nights in the cave, the bed was magically wonderful; even if it was broad daylight outside. No one would disturb them.
Thalia's hand eased around his shoulders as his trailed down the side of her torso with the intent of getting down. But with her words, he lowered them in the pool and grazed his knuckles against her lower stomach. She froze against him as his hand dipped between her thighs; sucking in a breath as fingers found the sensitive nub that controlled every nerve ending in her body. He said nothing as he moved his hand against her and neither did she; the silence of the cave and the waves in the distance was the only thing to interrupt their staggered breathing. Her fingers curled into his hair again; holding him close as he buried his face into her neck. She gripped his scalp and breathed into his ear as, with practiced hands, he urged a release from her. She slowly rocked her hips against him; wanting more, but there was something insanely erotic about just this.
Small whimpers of pleasure echoed in the cave around them as he urged her higher; her chin tilting as his mouth laid claim to her neck; branding her as his in his own way. She didn't have the ability to care; it all just felt too good. When her release finally came she cried out; shuddering against him as she buried her mouth into his own shoulder; her whole body tensed with ecstasy as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her; rocking her to her core. When she finally came down, her whole body eased against him; her fingers releasing his hair as she melted with a longsuffering purr of content.
Finally, he let her go and she untangled herself from him; feeling far too light without being anchored against him. Without a word, he handed her some soap and moved away and she stifled a girlish grin before turning as well to sink beneath the water. She let her whole body go limp beneath the water and allowed herself to revel in the delicious tingling left behind after he'd pleasured her. When she needed oxygen, she stood back up in the pool and surfaced before running the soap along her skin; washing off three days worth of dirt, sweat, and salt. She washed her hair in the hot spring water and breathed in the soothing smell of lavender that scented the spongy bar. When she'd finished, she let go of the rest of the soap and rinsed off before swimming back to where she'd entered; Lukos waited silently for her. She pulled herself out of the tub and brushed her hand over his shoulder unconsciously; just needing to touch him as she moved passed to go find a fresh sheet. With it wrapped around her frame, they walked to the food and she ate lazily; her body contented finally after being so anxious for so long. She stared at him as he picked over the food until he looked at her wearily; telling her he needed to sleep. She was only so tired as her body felt satiated after he'd given her release, but it was superficial. Where she to lay down, it wouldn't be for long.
She turned and stepped over to him; his body leaving a puddle on the floor that she stepped into and she wrinkled her nose as she lifted a grape to his mouth. "I won't stop you... But eat first. You need your strength." She pushed back a few plates on the table and leaned her hand against his chest. "Sit..." She pushed until he sat back on the table and she shifted to stand between his legs; not worried about how wet he was.
She fed him slowly; rotating bites between herself and him. From time to time, she'd lean forward and brush slow kisses against his jaw as she gave him another bite; not enough to urge him to take her, but just enough to feel him against her; to smell his skin and feel the rough texture of his jaw against her nose.
When they'd eaten their fill, she stood back so he could get off the table and then leaned forward; tugging at the laces of his pants that held them together. She looked up at him through thick lashes as she spoke. "You can't sleep in wet pants..." So she pushed them off his hips; grazing her hands over his backside as she moved them down his thighs; crouching down to push them over his knees and calves so he could step out of them. She was a horrible nursemaid. She never claimed to be one. She knew he needed to sleep.. and so she fought the urge to touch him or stoke his fire. There would be time for that, even if delaying their coupling was a pleasurable torture for her. Fingers laced with his and she backed up to the bed; pulling him with her before she raised the sheet and bent her knee; climbing up on the bed. She crawled backward until he was in the bed too and then lay down when he did; her belly full and her body buzzing with contentment and the desire for even more. Instead of indulging, she curled up next to him; Tangling her legs in his as she buried her face into the heated warmth of his shoulder. Her fingers traced lazy circles on his chest as she closed her eyes; relenting to a nap as she'd missed being wrapped up next to him. After two nights in the cave, the bed was magically wonderful; even if it was broad daylight outside. No one would disturb them.
It was strange to have her be so affectionate. He couldn’t think of another word for it. She kept looking at him in a way that she hadn’t before. It made him feel like she was trying to make sure he didn’t disappear.
She moved around the table but he wasn’t looking at her. Instead he pretended to be wholly absorbed with peeling the orange in his hand. The scent of it drifted up but his fingers stilled on it as her hand slid across the table. In the center sat a bowl of grapes. Plucking one, she lifted it to his mouth, telling him to eat.
Black eyes found hazel ones; wary curiosity lingered in his gaze. After a moment’s hesitation, he opened his mouth. He dropped the orange completely, turning fully to face her as she pushed plates away, clearing a space on the table top and ordering him to sit.
Like before, he resisted but her hand on his chest eased him back and again, he did as he was told. His tense shoulders relaxed when she stepped up to him, not seeming to mind when he hooked his legs around her, crossing his ankles to lock her in place. What she was doing was as alien to him as his first touches had been to her. He had no idea what to do except follow her lead, allow her to do as she pleased. At the moment, it pleased her to be sweet; sweeter than he’d ever seen anyone act.
He ate as much as she gave him, still curious at her behavior but he didn’t question her about it. To ask what she was doing might prompt her to stop and as she came in for the last of the languid kisses, he found that stopping was the last thing he wanted her to do.
She stepped back, an indication that she was finished with him. He shook his head and slid off the table, trying to hide the fact that he was in the unusual position of being completely uncertain about what to do next. Her caresses had him completely off balance in a way that sex never would. This was something apart; an unknown. The way she was looking at him, however, finally made him think he knew what she was after.
He made no move to help or stop her as she pulled at the laces of his pants, tugging them down. His hand found her hair and as she dipped lower and lower, her breath on his chest, then stomach, his eyebrows raised quickly. Was she actually going to - no. She wasn’t. He bit his lower lip, trying to stifle a grin and failing.
She was such a tease. As she came back up, he tucked his finger under her chin, tipping her face up so that he could look her over. “No,” he said in response to her statement. “I can’t.” Her hand found his, interlacing their fingers together and she pulled back, drawing him with her onto the bed. There was no hesitation this time. He was easily led, still assuming she was after more but here again, she proved him wrong.
He lay down and she nestled against him, her leg over his, seemingly content with just that. His hand drifted over her back and while he would have given in to her if she’d actually asked it of him this time, he found he was content with this. Almost as soon as he closed his eyes sleep stole him away.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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It was strange to have her be so affectionate. He couldn’t think of another word for it. She kept looking at him in a way that she hadn’t before. It made him feel like she was trying to make sure he didn’t disappear.
She moved around the table but he wasn’t looking at her. Instead he pretended to be wholly absorbed with peeling the orange in his hand. The scent of it drifted up but his fingers stilled on it as her hand slid across the table. In the center sat a bowl of grapes. Plucking one, she lifted it to his mouth, telling him to eat.
Black eyes found hazel ones; wary curiosity lingered in his gaze. After a moment’s hesitation, he opened his mouth. He dropped the orange completely, turning fully to face her as she pushed plates away, clearing a space on the table top and ordering him to sit.
Like before, he resisted but her hand on his chest eased him back and again, he did as he was told. His tense shoulders relaxed when she stepped up to him, not seeming to mind when he hooked his legs around her, crossing his ankles to lock her in place. What she was doing was as alien to him as his first touches had been to her. He had no idea what to do except follow her lead, allow her to do as she pleased. At the moment, it pleased her to be sweet; sweeter than he’d ever seen anyone act.
He ate as much as she gave him, still curious at her behavior but he didn’t question her about it. To ask what she was doing might prompt her to stop and as she came in for the last of the languid kisses, he found that stopping was the last thing he wanted her to do.
She stepped back, an indication that she was finished with him. He shook his head and slid off the table, trying to hide the fact that he was in the unusual position of being completely uncertain about what to do next. Her caresses had him completely off balance in a way that sex never would. This was something apart; an unknown. The way she was looking at him, however, finally made him think he knew what she was after.
He made no move to help or stop her as she pulled at the laces of his pants, tugging them down. His hand found her hair and as she dipped lower and lower, her breath on his chest, then stomach, his eyebrows raised quickly. Was she actually going to - no. She wasn’t. He bit his lower lip, trying to stifle a grin and failing.
She was such a tease. As she came back up, he tucked his finger under her chin, tipping her face up so that he could look her over. “No,” he said in response to her statement. “I can’t.” Her hand found his, interlacing their fingers together and she pulled back, drawing him with her onto the bed. There was no hesitation this time. He was easily led, still assuming she was after more but here again, she proved him wrong.
He lay down and she nestled against him, her leg over his, seemingly content with just that. His hand drifted over her back and while he would have given in to her if she’d actually asked it of him this time, he found he was content with this. Almost as soon as he closed his eyes sleep stole him away.
It was strange to have her be so affectionate. He couldn’t think of another word for it. She kept looking at him in a way that she hadn’t before. It made him feel like she was trying to make sure he didn’t disappear.
She moved around the table but he wasn’t looking at her. Instead he pretended to be wholly absorbed with peeling the orange in his hand. The scent of it drifted up but his fingers stilled on it as her hand slid across the table. In the center sat a bowl of grapes. Plucking one, she lifted it to his mouth, telling him to eat.
Black eyes found hazel ones; wary curiosity lingered in his gaze. After a moment’s hesitation, he opened his mouth. He dropped the orange completely, turning fully to face her as she pushed plates away, clearing a space on the table top and ordering him to sit.
Like before, he resisted but her hand on his chest eased him back and again, he did as he was told. His tense shoulders relaxed when she stepped up to him, not seeming to mind when he hooked his legs around her, crossing his ankles to lock her in place. What she was doing was as alien to him as his first touches had been to her. He had no idea what to do except follow her lead, allow her to do as she pleased. At the moment, it pleased her to be sweet; sweeter than he’d ever seen anyone act.
He ate as much as she gave him, still curious at her behavior but he didn’t question her about it. To ask what she was doing might prompt her to stop and as she came in for the last of the languid kisses, he found that stopping was the last thing he wanted her to do.
She stepped back, an indication that she was finished with him. He shook his head and slid off the table, trying to hide the fact that he was in the unusual position of being completely uncertain about what to do next. Her caresses had him completely off balance in a way that sex never would. This was something apart; an unknown. The way she was looking at him, however, finally made him think he knew what she was after.
He made no move to help or stop her as she pulled at the laces of his pants, tugging them down. His hand found her hair and as she dipped lower and lower, her breath on his chest, then stomach, his eyebrows raised quickly. Was she actually going to - no. She wasn’t. He bit his lower lip, trying to stifle a grin and failing.
She was such a tease. As she came back up, he tucked his finger under her chin, tipping her face up so that he could look her over. “No,” he said in response to her statement. “I can’t.” Her hand found his, interlacing their fingers together and she pulled back, drawing him with her onto the bed. There was no hesitation this time. He was easily led, still assuming she was after more but here again, she proved him wrong.
He lay down and she nestled against him, her leg over his, seemingly content with just that. His hand drifted over her back and while he would have given in to her if she’d actually asked it of him this time, he found he was content with this. Almost as soon as he closed his eyes sleep stole him away.
