#saintsdawn.

[kinlochs]

@saintsdawn revealed, ❛ i fell in love with the fire long ago. ❜

That made Cassian laugh, some half-breathless scoff of incredulity, the reason being the burn salve that glistened on Florence's skin. Recently applied, too, by yours truly.

"I feel that it is much easier to say now that you are not actively burning, yes?" He jested. All the while, his hands applied even pressure to the raw skin, a cooling sensation spreading from him to her. If he was not careful, there would be frost at his fingertips.

Still, he considered their words. "I enjoyed learning fire the most as an apprentice. I thought it easy to master, really," Cassian confessed. "That was a dangerous thing to believe. All too easily we lose control of a flame and... that is all that it takes. Suddenly an ember is a fireball because of some flare of emotion."

[vorashvan]

"what's in your pocket"

Bellara looks like a deer in the headlights. Her pocket wiggles very pointedly, which she attempts to hide.

She sighs.

"Okay! Fine!" Bellara groans, reaching within and gently pulling out the tiny, mewling kitten within. She holds it close and giggles while it clambers up her arm and onto her shoulder. "That tickles. Please, can we keep him? Please? Let's name him Solas!"

[stuldr]

he hadn't seen the blade coming. and as fast as he was with his reflexes, his concern for where florence was located distracted him temporarily, blinding him at just the right moment. at the exact moment that he is being stabbed, his left hand lifts to grab hold of the attacker's face. a strong amount of heat quickly grows in his palm ; there's no hesitation as he forms a ball of fire to incinerate him.

as the body falls, zoren finds a spot on the ground shortly after. he drags himself away from the dead to lean against the wall. the crypt isn't all that comforting. the smells are off-putting and every creak has him on high alert. if only he didn't have such an adventurous spirit. he could be spending his days in a tavern where he's at least got a roof over his head, warm meals and a hot bath. instead, he's here, staring at the draugr and bandits that lay at his feet.

the thief only allows himself to semi-relax when he sees florence running towards him, perfectly fine. " what a beautiful sight to have before the end. " with his magic run dry and his potion supplies amiss, he hasn't been able to heal himself. his hand is held against his wound, trying to slow the bleeding. " did you at least manage to get the sword we were after ? "

@saintsdawn.

[svartr]

❛ If you love me, you don’t love me in a way I understand. ❜

zouin leans against the trunk of a large tree. his arms are crossed over his chest, causing him to appear nonchalant. a stark contrast to the serious conversation at hand. in truth, he feels anxious. but, masking is what comes most natural to him.

he sighs, finding their words to be frustrating. he reaches out towards them, to grab florence by the wrist. they are then pulled forward, so that his other arm can catch them in an embrace.

" and how should i prove it to you, if i have not done so already ? make love to you right now under the moon's gaze ? present you with a handcrafted ring ? give my life for yours ? tell me and i'll do it, without hesitance. "

[katorats]

@saintsdawn. " stop second guessing yourself. "

how terrible it is to have them understand him without even trying. a surge of anger flows through him, though not like a river, but a stagnant stream of water that has nowhere to go.

" stop that. "

bare knuckle slams against the bark of the tree. he shouldn't react like that. he knows better. yet his body seems to have a mind separate than the one within his heart. frustrated. about .. about being seen ? isn't that what he wants ? what he's always wanted. so, then, why ? why did he react like that ?

there's momentary eye contact made with florence, before he pushes off of the tree to head to the nearby creek. he must have hit the trunk with a strength he did not realize he had. the blood speaks for itself. yet, all he feels sorry for is potentially harming the sapling. seems to care so little for his own state.

" you always do that. "

[vordur]

kliff moves over to where @saintsdawn is located. they are sitting upon the dock with a nearby fishing pole seemingly discarded. he moves to sit beside them, dangling his legs off of the edge. he reaches for the pole, starting to ready it to be casted. " .. my friend and i used to fish a lot together. we would compare the sizes of our captured fish. a competition i looked forward to each time. " once the bait is attached, the mercenary skillfully flicks the hook into the water. he stares at the spot where it's landed for a moment before he continues to talk. " he says he likes to fish because being near the water clears his mind. is it the same for you ? " it's at this point that he turns his head to look at florence, trying to read their expression. " hm .. we don't have to talk if you don't want to. "

[kinlochs]

@saintsdawn insisted, "let me take care of you this time."

Cassian shook his head furiously in silence. Since waking up kicking and screaming, he now sat stubbornly upon his blankets, seemingly shielding himself from nothing with the way his knees braced against his chest.

"No." The mage snapped. The venom was far too quick to be genuine. A hard glint lingered in the blue of his eyes, though even further behind was a distance that spoke volumes. He fell into silence, staring at the ground, till he caught Florence's gaze.

"You can go back to sleep. Won't cause any issues, swear on it."

[kinlochs]

@saintsdawn sent, [ hush ] sender whispers, “quiet now,” against receiver’s skin while slowly dragging a hand down their chest.

The glow of the dying campfire is the only thing illuminating their silhouettes under the stars above. Cassian's at a loss for words: at the muscle tense beneath their pale skin, at how warm they are against him when their lips drag down the column of his neck.

"Flor—" Cassian begins because, again, they didn't have to do this if it would—would ruin something. He clutches at them like otherwise, like don't you dare stop now, like don't leave me.

They've bailed out one another more times than they could count.

Florence's hand is steady on his chest and trailing downward. He's sure they can feel how fast his heart is beating. He thinks that he's looking at them in abject wonder while chasing their lips with his own, unable to resist it.

"Quiet, now," Florence whispers just before insinuating themselves closer with an arm around his neck. Cassian answers with a grip on their hips that couldn't be severed by the Risen Gods.