there was a delicate art to his craft that so few could begin to understand ─ putting something together was much simpler than taking it apart and it was his responsibility to be certain that his students were adequately prepared for the final years of their training, where they would exchange the wood dust and metal shavings of the laboratories for the actual field of battle. like most things, he took the role of educator with great severity, harsher on the older pupils who pushed at his boundaries, trying to test their luck with authority, but ismail was not without some softness, always willing to stay behind with anyone who seemed to be struggling. it was where he could be found now, watching intently as the younger durast struggles to mend a splintered beam in the makeshift wall without bringing down the entire thing ─ something that was easier said than done.
swallowing an irritated sigh at the pointless efforts, he was almost inclined to tell the pupil to keep practicing on their own, when a distraction allows him for a way out in the form of his wife, imperious order ringing through the workshop. it takes all of his strength to stifle a grin as his student spares an informal wave before scurrying away and he does not bother to turn around, humming lightly when her arms come to wrap around him. ❝ i have never known you to try to be cute … it is something that comes naturally to you, terrifying kefta and all. ❞ though perhaps he was the only one that felt that way. he allows the kiss, rubbing the bearded swell of his cheek against her soft skin for a moment longer in a show of quiet relief before he turns in her arms, ducking down so that the embrace does not break.
❝ well … i was trying to help that poor kid with isolation and reparations but you came to my rescue just in time. ❞ patting her arms in a non - verbal gesture for her to hold on tighter, he grips her waist assuredly, lifting her off the ground in a quick motion before setting her on the table that had just been used by the aforementioned student, heedless to their surroundings when he presses an indulgent kiss to her forehead, eyes drifting shut serenely. the scent of her soap floods his sinuses, pleasantly mild yet comforting after a day spent apart. ❝ if the kefta bothers you so much, why don’t you take it off ? ❞ he does not mean for it to sound so suggestive, large fingers rubbing idle circles against her fleshy hips but a laugh is punched from his throat nonetheless, short and breathless. ❝ how was your meeting, kalbim ? has there been any news from the front ? ❞
there is familiarity in the manner they move around each other, and she is more than willing to meet up his actions, intertwining her fingers behind his head so he may lift her — as she shuts her eyes momentarily, she is easy brought back to the countless times they’ve done just this, when she welcomed him between her thighs, careless of the presence of his fellow durast for as long as she could annoy be with him. “hmm, you’re cheeky today.” to be fair, he was always flattering, most times more than she believed herself deserving of. his next quip, however, makes her snort out a cackling laugh, breathy as it dies and she shakes her head, putting some distance between them. “i’m tied with kaynana, one boy and two girls. are you trying to change that here ?” it wouldn’t be far fetched for them, but by the deadpan manner of her speech, followed by the big grin that covers her face, she is but enjoying messing with him, from her words to the way she deliberately paces herself as she unbuttons the scarlet kefta, only to reveal a plain white shirt. “don’t you get any ideas,” she threatens as a jest, setting aside the kefta and placing her hands behind herself to support her sitting position.
“nothing extraordinary. death,” truly, leyla loathed that such a grim topic was banalized, but there were not many humane ways to treat life and death in the high numbers she had just received. “one of the ambassadors seemed interested in a cease fire for the spring festivities, at least with fjerda. i’m not sure how successful they will be when killing us honors djel more than anything else for those oafs.” it became increasingly hard to humanize the fjerdans the souther they trailed into ravkan territory and she often felt herself grasp not to be unfair and judge the lot just based on the druskelle.
leaning back, she worries her bottom lip between her teeth, stifling a sigh and letting her fingers trail over the books now hidden by her kefta. as much as she wanted, theoretical knowledge over materialki’s realm of learning did not come easy to her. “is teaching your lot very difficult these days, hayatım ?” though she asks because she cares, there is a hint of self - interest in the curiosity; trading her captaincy for a permanent teaching position in the little palace’s grounds would be seen as a rather dishonorable step down for those who prided themselves in their abilities during active duty, and, if leyla was to swallow her pride to do that, she would rather be good at it, and enjoy it, even if despite her feelings about it, this could be a necessary change for them.