"My bleeding out, is that what sets you free?" for DWC :)
Thank you so much, honeybunch! ❤︎❤︎ I’ve neglected Camber and Felassan for too long, so here’s some mush for @dadrunkwriting ❤︎
With the development of something bitter between his love and his pupil came the chill of vacant air at his side. Camber had withdrawn from him since they had arrived in Halamshiral, camping in the burnt-out remains of the alienage. It was Briala and her frequent visits, the way she spoke to him with such familiarity, half-sentences and meaningful looks. And the similarities between them: he had watched as Camber silently picked them out, eyes resting on each feature, one by one. Loose, dark curls; tan, freckled skin; similar in height and body, though Briala was slightly fuller in figure, better fed.
It was his fault somehow. Felassan looked over the small fire to Camber, sitting with her legs tucked under her chin, picking at the cuticles of her long, nimble fingers. Briala, too, had treated Camber coolly, even while engaging Somber in friendly conversation. The young man charmed the Ambassador with his usual easy, smiling manner, but his flickering glances between Fel and his sister were anxious. It was a strategic maneuver, unsubtly mentioning the last time they had eaten a full meal, two days before.
“I’m ashamed of myself! How thoughtless of me not to bring something,” Briala placed an apologetic hand on Fel’s forearm, “I’ll go fetch something right now.”
“I’ll come with you, if you do not mind,” Somber looked up at her eagerly, “I have never really been in a city.”
With a brief lament at the state of the alienage, she acquiesced; the two raised the hoods of their cloaks and slipped out into the night, leaving them alone.
“Briala and I, we’re not, were never—You…you’re nothing like her,” Unexpectedly fumbling, he hesitated, adding defensively, “Remember, you found me.”
She turned her eyes on him, sea-glass reflecting flames. She crossed her legs, leaning forward as her brow furrowed, her only outward sign of anger.
“You believe I am jealous.”
“Well, aren’t you?” Felassan sighing, his hands rising and falling with exasperation, “What else is it then, that I’ve done wrong?”
“If you tell me I should not be jealous or upset,” Turning cold so suddenly as she leaned back, like a winter night after the sun has set, “Then I shall not. I trust you.”
“Ma harel, da’len,” Her head tilted just slightly, momentarily confused by the change in language.
“Lying?” She mirrored his movement as he rose to his feet, meeting him as he came to stare down into her face, “If I act falsely, it is only in indulging you.”
“Humoring me isn’t pleasing me!” Nearly shouting in her face, he could once again feel the sun beneath her skin, “It’s insulting! I don’t want anything from you but the truth.”
She waited with lips pursed, dry and cracking with dehydration, no words forming behind them.
“What more do you want from me, Camber? Should I cut myself open, spill my insides for you to pick through?” Thinly rasping, scarcely holding back the lump in his throat, “Ar lath ma, Camber. Vir nadas.”
He watched as her eyes, still sharp, searched his face: he felt they trailed tiny cuts after them, so thin as to leave no evidence but the tiniest beads of blood. As the sound of rushing blood faded from his ears, he realized that she was holding her breath. Abruptly, she leaned up and, with a gentle hesitation, kissed him, as though hoping it was safe to do. His lips crushed into hers with furious adoration. He tasted sweetness on her, lips like honey and sugar on his tongue. When he pulled away, her eyes shone and she was pressed against him, body and soul.
The approach of easy conversation announced the return of their companions. Her arms were wrapped tightly around him, but she tucked her head underneath his chin, face turned from the door: not wanting to let go, but unwilling to share the moment between them. Fel merely relaxed into her embrace, feeling bold now that he had finally put words to the feeling that had starburst in his heart the moment he met her.
