Sweet Soft Whispers
(Takes place over six months ago.)
The nights they spent under the stars had, at one point, been countable on one of his hands. Before he found her in such terrible conditions. Before he broke her free from her prison. Before he took her from the world she once knew and showed her the one that was waiting for her all along, full of vibrance and life and beauty that she was missing out on for years.
That in itself was a crime to the troll, who had loved that world and been unleashed upon it a few times, to see what it had in store for him. Its darkness. Its light. All the dank, ugly, awful places that sat about, and the sweet, eye-popping ones that hoped to lift a sullen heart.
So instead of staying in port, instead of staying in the city, those months ago, he took her with him this time, and wandered.
He had friends from before, of all walks, that were her friends too, now. They were some of the same people they joined that night, a ragtag group of trolls and dwarves and humans and orcs that laughed and sat about, enjoying the beach and whatever it offered them. Their little village had survived years and the many hands it got passed through, a vagabond’s refuge.
He could hear some of them telling stories right then, too, as he swung in the hammock with Ilithye, feeling the scarce chilly breeze rush through. Only just far enough away for it to be more of a murmur, that they could be somewhat alone, together.
She was dressed in something he loved on her. White rags she’d picked up when they fought their way down the desert, and her ingenuity knew no bounds. It was a scarce thing, the cloth that hung over her neck in a halter style to cover her breasts, and then wrapped about beneath her bust securely. The other half was tied about her hips, looser, easier for her to move in.
“Ja know what?” Volatile whispered into her long ear, between thick tresses of black braids that had gotten their full health back.
“Mmm?” She toned at him, a breath in, arm draped over his waist, content to let him have her ear.
“Ja beautiful like de stars,” he grinned, and leaned up to kiss her temple, the sway of the hammock slowing. “Someone tell me one time dat de stars be fireballs, all a dem. Joo like dat, ja know?”
The sin’dorei grinned broadly at him, a fond, sweet little smile that accumulated all of her fondness for him and not enough at the same time. “Is that because I make fire?” She wondered.
“Because ja are fire,” he whispered, kissing up her ear. “Ja made of it. Wild, like ya heart. Bright, like ya passion. Strong, too, ja don’t t’ink so, d’ough.”
He made her feel a multitude of things, not least of which was gratitude at his care for her. After so much neglect, she knew again what love felt like, like an outpouring of support and kindness from someone no matter what the conditions were. He stood in the proverbial rain for her, holding her up while she felt broken. He reminded her she wasn’t.
The troll liked to think the fire that was her soul had always been there, but a change of pace and scenery had helped drag it out and show her what was lurking beneath the well behaved noble.
She turned her head to press her cheek against his and then nosed gently at his jaw, just to kiss at his lips and come nose to nose with him. “I do too believe in my own strength,” she refuted. “I’ll show you.”
Before he had a chance to ask, she had beared her weight down on one side, and flipped the entire hammock, spilling them both out onto the sand. After his initial surprise, and a gasp to prove it, there was an ‘oohf’ collective from both. Onto his back with the mage atop him, and all he could do was start to giggle.
“See?” She prodded through her laughter, crawling back on top of him proper, sand in her dark locks. “Told you.”
“Dat be de last time I doubt choo,” he confessed, silenced by her lips before he could say anything further.
He didn’t mind being proved wrong, especially in this case.
@savage-siren
