Spirits of the Earth

"Damn..." Hysaeda muttered as he stared into his reflection in the deathly still pool of water.  The river crossed from the edges of the Draconi Forest and deep into the Terrin Mountains, but here it scattered a bit and left a myriad of tributaries that allowed for a lush valley to grow.  To bad such nourishing water couldn't make the Umraeon's hair color grow into a different color.  The nightmarishly bare truth (at least to most other native Le'rannian Dark Elves) was that no self respecting Umbraeon should bare a trace of white hair.  No, they were more likely to have red, black, or even teal hair than white.  White was abhorrent and associated only with the damnable Drow and their mischievous ways.

Even as he scratched at his scalp and stared hopelessly at the water, Hysaeda knew there was nothing to be done about his hair color.  He could pray to Umbra and the dead god's spirit would most likely only whisper in his dreams the answers he sought not.  He would have to live with this burden for however long he was destined to live; though that wasn't to say it wasn't just the primary cause of his grief as a youngster.  The bruises of bullies in his younger days hurt only as far as his soul could take it.  But that was in the past and there was more to be done before the day was out.

But as he gazed up over the line of trees that led deep into the hopelessly dark brush of the Draconi he saw the plethora of colors that heralded the sunset.  And in the mix he sighed hopelessly.  "And always there's never enough time in a day.  Too bad I haven't set up camp yet," he said to himself.  Yet his supplies were limited, even to make a camp.

It was true that the Umbraeons were tribal in their ways and Hysaeda was no exception.  He carried with him only what was necessary and no more: basic clothing and tool for which he could utilize to scavenge from the land.  Across this torso was his sleeveless bone and leather armor as was the natural garb for hunters and his travel bag.  Hide pants protected his legs from the rising cold, stopping at a fold at his calves and letting his boot-like sandals reside from there.  A sheathed scimitar was slung horizontally across his back along with his bow and quiver.  Such weapons may have been archaic but they saved his hide countless times and he wasn't about to trade it for anything.

Quickly he detached his bow and held it firmly in his grasp as he crossed the river along some stepping stones and upon a desolate mountain pass.  He would have to find a suitable place to set up camp and doing so would be the most difficult aspect of the task, for there was no telling just what kind was dangers one was going to find when they journeyed by night.

Along that desolate path, far enough away from anyone that may be curious, a gate opened. The electric, silent energy seemed to cut a rectangle through the air, granting a view of some dark marble room, bare of any and all decoration.  A black boot touched down, as foreign to the soil as the scenery through the portal was to anyone here. The woman finished stepping though, her other leather boot hitting the ground just as the doorway closed, leaving her very much alone. Not as though that bothered her. "At least, this time, it's night," the female drow murmured to herself.

If she was concerned at all for her safety, anyone watching wouldn't have guessed. She had no real armor, though the top she wore was of stiff leather laced up the front. It might serve to deter some mundane attacks and bruises. But even so, it only covered her midriff and chest. Dark ebony shoulders and a graceful neck led up to a slender face and blood red eyes. Her hair, silver rather than the usual white, shone like the metal it represented. She'd pulled it up this time, leaving delicate strands to fall and frame her face. Of course, the practical reason she'd pulled it up was because, as she'd found from traveling before, it made her hair easier to manage. Bresthra did have a lot of it.

The drow took a moment to take stock of her supplies, as she usually did. Not that she could just... go back... if she'd forgotten something. The gate only opened to here. To get back home, she'd need to find someone capable of making one for her. Sometimes that was rather easy... others... Well, it gave her a chance to explore. With the loose goal of finding someone like that, Bresthra's hands slid over the hilts of the blades on her hips. The first had a black iron grip, which led down to the smooth black blade. A gift from her teacher. The second had a white bone handle, and while looking plain, would give her the advantage over the undead. If her necromancy and clerical skills should happen to fail her. Finding both blades were in their place and her traveling bag, a leather one slung off her shoulder that could carry more than it looked to hold, in place, she finally took note of her surroundings.

The sun was setting now and soon the deep oranges and reds of the sky would fade to purples and blues before the scenery was subjected to darkness. Hopefully not a true black out as when there was no light from the moon. A quick glance directly up let Bresthra know that, at least for the moment, there was no threat of precipitation. Had there been the smell of rain, or the collection of clouds, she'd been more motivated to make camp. As it was, the sky appeared to be as clear as one could wish for. The weather was decent, the light wasn't too bright... Hells, Bresthra was beginning to suspect she'd arrived somewhere –nice- for once. All too often, she'd stepped from the gate into the suppressive heat of a blazing afternoon sun, or walked out just for gray-black clouds to open up and grace her with rain. Rather than supposing something would probably ruin her luck at arriving at such a time, Bresthra took the scenery for what it was, smiled, and proceeded on her way.

This happened all the time. She'd walk through a gate into some unknown land, wander around, make friends, meet new people, take notes, and then return to either home or her temple. Whichever seemed to call to her the most. Recently, it had been home. Or more importantly, her brother. That thought seemed to release a million others, all of which Bresthra idly noted before discarding. She'd not been away long enough for the cluster of thoughts to take root. But they would, eventually, and then she'd deal with them. For now, she simply smiled a little and started down the path. Every road led somewhere, in her experience. Where didn't matter. Only that she was free to walk it.

A mist was building gradually across the mountains and already his feet had sunk into the clouded smoke.  As ghostly as it drifted, so did Hysaeda as he strolled in a crouched position behind several large trees  It might have appeared as if he was stalking someone or something but the actuality of such a poise was merely to exercise caution over all.  What could kill prey might also seek to slay him; this was a kill or be killed world and in the grand scheme of all, survival was the highest priority of every creature.  It was the reason why there was hunting, grazing, migration, domination, breathing, eating, and even mating.
 
Hysaeda grasped his bow intently and readied an arrow in it should the need to launch it arise.  A cold gust swept along his bare arms and incited a shiver.  But he clenched his abdomen and pressed onward despite the negative energies that pierced his senses.  Visage determinedly smoothed over, that feeling alone was enough to remind him exactly why he rarely ever ventured on evening excursions.
 
The bad feelings he had before were now gripping at the pit of his stomach.  Something's not right here, he thought with a grimace.  Already he was beginning to put tension on the bow string, but it was slight, however.  The basic instinct of his training in he wilderness instructed him to place as much distance between himself and the energy for no doubt that following the trail of the negation would lead him to find the source that made him feel so sick.  The hairs standing up on the nape of his neck told him just as much.  But he wasn't afraid, he convinced himself; he was at one with nature, the power around him was enough for whatever he may come across.  Though even that wasn't sufficient in preparing him for what happened next.
 
Approximately 300 or so feet away, he witnessed with eyes wide a rectangular gate appear right out of thin air.  And through the portal appeared a figure as equally dark as he.  "What the--" he whispered breathlessly and when he felt like his eyeballs couldn't get any wider, he snapped out of his spell and attempted to watch stoically as the figure moved from the faint light of the gate.
 
From what he could tell, it had a feminine shape with wide hips and a protruding bust.  Definitely not male, he thought, screwing his face in curiosity.  The clothing was outlandish and nothing like he'd ever seen before.  Her garb was both form-fitting and somewhat loose and was darker still than her flesh.  There was a glint of red as her eyes flashed and then he peered at her hair.  It shone silvery in the oncoming moonlight.
 
His heart felt like it stopped abruptly when the realization that she was not Umbraeon seeped into the cracks in the foundation of his mind.  And a single word leaked from his lips, "Drow..."
 
Without reserve, his blood boiled as a quick and utter distaste for the female so far away from him.  And as if he was hunting for avirex feathers, he drew the arrow back in the bow and aimed near her head.  His aim was impeccable, he would not miss.  A few breaths of concentration later and he released the arrow.  It sung in the air and whistled right passed her head.  Smiling faintly, he was satisfied at this for it was a mere warning shot.
 
"Who goes there?" he called out and stood to full length with another arrow readied in the bow.

Bresthra was fairly amazed that the darker it got, a mist began to form. She was rather enchanted. There was something exceptionally stunning about the way the silvery fog hung over the ground, swirling around her legs as she walked through it. Bresthra even stopped a moment to simply survey her surroundings and watch the silent transformation. This is why she traveled. While she was very much the hedonistic drow born in the abyss, there was a small part of her that was just stunned by the beauty of the natural world. Like her first time in the forest, it wasn't about getting to a city, it was about what was around her. That awed feeling, the experience of the 'first time' was a pleasure she could not get enough of. It was one of the few things she loved about who her Mother was. How else would she realm hop?

The drow was so enthralled by her surroundings that no part of her was looking for anyone. And she never did. Even though she'd been ambushed several times, Bresthra never bothered with precautionary actions. That required more forethought than she wanted to deal with. Would it get her killed one day? Maybe. But that was the future, and she wasn't about to change so much as to start thinking about it.

Before she was about to continue on, something whistled past her head. She twisted a little to watch the tail end of the arrow disappear into the misty scenery behind her. Either the shooter had missed on purpose, or she was about to be shot. The answer came readily enough as someone stood and called out, "Who goes there?" As a drow, the low light was actually better for her to see. It looked like someone had painted a wild elf black. For the longest moment, she just stared. Her eyes had to be playing tricks on her. Drow did not dress like that. But there he was, natural armor, black skin, reddish eyes, and white hair. She'd have thought he was a servant of Lolth if his attire were not so other-worldly. Maybe Vhearaun. If that were the case, than all was well. Her Mother and the Masked Lord were on cordial terms. Especially since Assirra's lover happened to be a rather powerful follower.

She held her hands out to the sides, away from her daggers. Slowly. No reason to be shot over a misunderstanding. "Name's Bresthra Xorlarrin." Usually she didn't drop her last name, but if he was a Vhearuanite, then it'd immediately smooth things over. Better that happen before she was shot. Bresthra had been before and it was not a memory she recalled with pleasure. Luckily the wound had healed without a scar. "Who might you be?" No harm in trying to figure out who he was. If he kept talking, then her chances of feeling an arrow enter her body would drop. Right?

No part of her actually wanted to fight him. But if it came down to that, she knew she'd have to establish a vampiric connection rather quickly. From his previous shot, he'd not miss. Bresthra could survive a shot in her head if she could draw life from him quick enough. At least, she thought she could. As a precaution, Bresthra had the spell swirling around in her mind. All it would take was a sigh. A breath. A thought. She really didn't want to, but neither did she particularly want to die. And if it came down to him or her, Bresthra preferred he die. Hopefully, all this was him just being jumpy around strangers.

Just like another hunting expedition, Hysaeda stretched the bow as tightly as the string could bear without a snap.  The tension was at its max and with his infallible eye it would take but less than half a second to the take the Drow right between the eyes.  Like the female before him, an Umbraeon's eyesight was created and accustomed to the thick shadows of mountain caves, for that was where their origins lied, and their skin was designed to camouflage into the darkness.

But while those were the scientific reasons for such biological attributes, the Umbraeons themselves, in all their spiritual fanaticism, would declare that their physicality was derived only from their god and creator Umbra, who so scrutinously designed them in his image with all the intent of his love.  Umbraeons didn't appear as if of the softer Elven races but were configured to be hardy and determined.  Then again...this definitely didn't help their public image as barbaric savages at all.

Sure they were wild and tribal in their ways but that wasn't just say they weren't cultured.  Perspective was key in understanding such an isolated race, but even their innate distrust for the kingdoms would hardly allow them to dare let any outsider attempt to understand their customs.  And an exercise of caution was a common one.  Hysaeda gazed sternly at her, keeping his mind steady and without thought, for there was no need for thought if it meant on killing a Drow with a single shot.  He held his breath as she stared back, certain she'd never seen one of his kind before.  Sure they might have looked alike and perhaps outsiders would consider them one in the same and that there was but a cultural difference between them.  And perhaps they would be partially right, but the animosity would never fade.

The drow called herself Bresthra Xorlarrin, whatever that meant.  It definitely wasn't Sevic that was for damn sure.  "I am the night watchman here.  Hysaeda is what you may call me," he spoke with an unmoving steadiness.  "What are you doing here?  For what reason did you step on these lands?"  He admitted silently that he didn't want to have to release the arrow but he certainly would have no qualms about doing so if she gave him good enough reason for it.  And in doing so, he loosened the tension on his bow only slightly and averted his aim to her legs instead.  But it was still easy to see he was uneasy about all this.  It wasn't like everyday that he came across a drow.

[whoops, a little on the short side.  But I did what I could with my current lack of inspiration.]

Her name didn't click with him. So he wasn't a Vhearuanite... or he was a poorly informed one. At least he wasn't an outright enemy of her family either. Giving up her name had been a risk, but it appeared, at least, that it would have nothing to do with his judgment of her. Which almost made Bresthra sigh with relief. She didn't want to have to live up to that name nor did she ever fall into what was expected of her. Granted, that meant he had absolutely no idea what to expect from her. And while that gave her a clean slate to work with, it also meant he had absolutely no reason to not shoot and kill her. Wonderful.

It was another plus that he responded to her inquiry. Night watchmen? She had to keep telling herself he was a drow, otherwise she would've pegged him as a wild elf. The bow, his dress, the watchman bit... it was like she'd stumbled into elven territory. Even though he looked like a drow, he acted like a surface elf. Granted Bresthra wasn't from the Underdark, but the 'surface elf' grouping was all she could think of. Considering her track record with surface elves, this was going a lot better than the last couple times. Which meant he was at least willing to listen. So how did she convince him that even though she was a drow, she wasn't evil? Surely he couldn't judge based off of her skin color. After all, they were almost one in the same.

Bresthra let out a slow breath as he lowered the arrow. Her spell melted away. Neither of them wanted to fight. He seemed ready to do what was necessary, but most were. But there was a huge difference between someone who was committed to killing, and someone who didn't want to. She was glad he was in the latter group. Or seemed to b. Admittedly, he could just be toying with her. But his expression was too serious for that thought to take root. She was not surprised when he asked her what she was doing here. That was the most obvious question to ask someone that wasn't somewhere you wanted them.

Bresthra shrugged a little. "Exploring?" she offered, wondering if he'd believe that. It was the truth, but it was also probably the most generic answer someone could give in this situation. "I didn't mean to stumble into your territory... I'm just new here." Of course, Bresthra then just made the connection that this was the equivalent to her walking out into the blazing sun or the rain. She should've known the location her Mother had picked had something wrong with it. That was always the case. It seemed she'd just happened into some... dark elf territory. And because she didn't know what to think of him, Bresthra was at some disadvantage. Either he already knew what drow were, or he simply didn't recognize her as one of his own... Well, she mused, at least they could understand one another. She didn't even want to think of how this might've went if they had been unable to communicate.

Okay, so he lied.  He wasn't a night watchman.  There was no such thing because, on a serious note, who would really want to guard a secluded section of a forsaken forest anyway?  It wasn't like there was anything particularly special about the place and even if there was how was anyone to know?  Hysaeda was the closest thing to civilization in a two hundred mile radius, even he would have no real reason to be this far from home; but what could he say, he loved to travel.  And as much as he respected nature, there wasn't any incentive to want to live in surroundings that were so much like a damned labyrinth to anyone who wasn't a native and it wasn't like he wanted an off-chance encounter with a hostile outcast tribe.
 
It was one thing to encounter a Drow in the middle of a forest, but was long as there was yet no ill will toward each other they were safe from the other's intent.  But it was quite different to meet with another Umbraeon tribe.  They were always looking for ways to enter into the very profitable slave trade and just how humiliating getting captured by an enemy tribe would be a member of the Xelikuda.
 
He didn't want to admit it, but there was an unexpected problem arising now.  If he'd been his cousin, Hyn-Iharu, he would've released the arrow without as much as a second thought—Hell! He wouldn't even have loosened the bow!  Iharu was one of the rare Umbraeons who had an affinity with dragons and an unmatched skill with the spear and therefore left the Xelikuda camp for one of the Dragoon camps where he could practice his art close to the dragons.  Iharu was a trained warrior and would have no qualms about killing an unarmed Drow.  Hysaeda, on the other hand, was a mere hunter and accustomed to slaying only animals in order to survive; it just wasn't like him to want to kill another who had done nothing to him.  The fact that he'd been nigh defenseless in his younger years molded his personality to believe that only when one deserved punishment would they receive it in just amounts.  Despite the fact that she was a drow, could he really hold it against her without opposing his own beliefs?
 
"I see," he spoke and, upon his revelation that he was characteristically benevolent to the helpless—not that he at all thought her to be helpless—, he loosened the tension completely and held the bow stagnantly in his hands, his aim toward the ground.  "I suspected as much."  Holding his gaze low, he looked at her darkly as if he was both a starving animal or merely annoyed by her presence.  Putting the arrow back in his quiver and placing the bow back over his torso, Hysaeda readjusted the scimitar's sheath and smirked a little when he said, "I don't own this place.  In fact, I'd be cautious about what natives I'd find here if I were you; some of them are rather...hostile towards outsiders.  Tell me, just how did you 'stumble' here?"

Bresthra continued to watch him. She found herself insanely curious how a drow got to be how he was. So very... wild and tribal looking. Was there another drow deity here influencing things that she didn't know about? Granted, the deity didn't have to be drow pre say. Bresthra's goddess wasn't. Sharess was usually depicted as a female human with feline qualities. Conversely, Bresthra's mother was a drow... or had been before ascending... and she didn't claim drow exclusively. So that really left everything open as to what had led this male to be who and what he was. Great. Absolutely no basis of comparison to work from.

She smiled when he lowered the bow. Not one of the satisfactory smiles that some might have in this scene, but an easy going tilt of her lips. Bresthra was hardly a hostile or overtly dangerous drow. Thought it amused her to no end when he said he thought she was new. That usually worked in her favor. Sheer honesty, since some people happened to be natural born lie detectors. But Bresthra had no reason to lie. Unless, of course, he'd held some animosity for her family... in which case she would've merely sought passage and not bother him. She hated how the sins of the parents often transferred to the child. Even if that child had absolutely nothing to do with said parents. Bresthra saw her family because that's what they were; family. Beyond that, there was nothing connecting them. Except her and Fyresk... which left them in a rather awkward position since he was a cleric of the very Goddess Bresthra had run from.

She lurched from her thoughts ash she saw how he was looking at her. It caught her off guard because she couldn't recall the last time someone might've been annoyed to see her. Upset, angry, interested... but annoyed? Bresthra couldn't help but smile at that. He seemed to be mulling something over before the arrow was put away, and the bow settled. Now the smirk... why couldn't he have done that before? Made the wild elf look rather... appealing. When he spoke, she was only half way paying attention. Something about natives and being careful. Bresthra's flair of interest led her to survey the visible part of him with more interest this time than the curiosity that had led her to ponder his origins. He was a hunter, or fighter... either way, he was built for it. Much to her delight.

During the whole of her looking, there was a small part of her that nagged, 'He'd asked a question'. Of course, it took her a moment to recall just what had been said. Her blood red eyes slid up him and to his own eyes. "Stumble here?" Now she had to be a little careful. Bresthra never lied unless it was better she did so. And if he were a surface elf, saying she'd just strolled out of the abyss was probably not what he wanted to hear. So she want with something a little more benign. "I'd just visited my family. My Mother opens gates to different realms for me to... peruse." The best part? That –was- the truth.  Now, because he had said it was dangerous, she felt compelled to ask, "And you seem to know the area rather well. Care to escort me somewhere safe?"

Immediately, he noticed something was off by the amount of silence that ensued when his line of questioning had commenced.  And he found it even stranger still that somehow his flesh was starting to get a tingling sensation and the hairs on the back of his neck were becoming erect.  It was then that he gazed up and found Bresthra looking at him.  But it wasn't the kind of vigilance that a woman would give to her young in guardianship but the kind a starving man might award to a boar he was sizing up for a meal.
 
And with that, Hysaeda felt his eyes become the size of moons in sheer surprise.  Her eyes roved up and over his sinewy form and suddenly he felt that his blood began to boil and burn in his veins.  His heartbeat was becoming heavy and resonant in his ears, all the more audible as if he were in an empty cave and the sound was echoing off the stone walls; as if it were becoming the feral heartbeat of the forest itself.  These oscillations were stirring him.  It made him seem surreal...almost--primal.  Whether or not this hot-blooded feeling was the result of fear or anger, he wasn't sure he wanted to find out just yet.

He fixed his visage, averting his eyes back to their normal state as she snapped back to attention.  Even as she was answering him, his mind abounded with innumerable questions.  Things like, 'What exactly had she been doing with her gaze?' and more importantly, 'Why had she been staring at me like that?'  No one had ever looked at him like that before or at least he hadn't yet noticed if they did.  His years of growing up at had been too brutal and swift to care much for finding a woman.  He'd spent much of his time looking for ways to deter bullies in their methods of persecution and avidly learning the trade of Ankuman under his father's close scrutiny.  It was rare for an Ankuman to take a wife for their job as spiritual leader generally did not allow the time for one; they were in constant need, someone always sought their guidance or their medical attention.  But Heilrak did have a wife some time ago.  And then that just brought up the subject of Hysaeda's mother, whom he never knew.

In the span of years between his training and defense, he'd learn to live on his own one jaunt into the surrounding Draconi Forest.  Of course, it was as if he was lost in there in the time between sixteen and twenty-one but the reality of the situation was that he sought such a trade as hunter.  He wanted to be in an area where he could be secluded from others, to be surrounded in a place where nature was his only solace and, having learned to successfully fend for himself, he learned the trade of a hunter.  It was more of his way of escape from the troubles at camp and something to keep his mind busy when he was away from his training.

However, it seemed that learning the wild ways of the land was the catalyst for Bresthra's gaze, though this was unbeknownst to him.  He cleared his throat and affixed his eyes boldly into her own, hopefully to show that he had no fear.  But as he did so he noticed that her red ones were much darker and liquidy that his amber-red ones.  There was something cognitive within them, as if she was considering something rather pivotal.  Whatever the case, he focused on the conversation and answered, "Safety is an illusion.  And to hope to harness it is like trying to capture the wind; it will always elude your grasp."

He then strode toward her in hopes to retrieve the arrow he fired in a warning shot.  If it was found in the daytime by whomever this territory belonged to, he didn't want it to serve as a "come and get me" sign.  He reached the trunk and tugged hard at the embedded arrow.  With a few sufficient pulls, it was dislodged and subsequently placed back into the quiver.

He turned his head and said, "If shelter's what you want then you should follow me.  I don't want to be around when someone comes to this area."  Hysaeda backed away a little considering how close he was to her and awaited her response.

She smirked a little when he made his way over to her. Rather, past, to retrieve the arrow. The whole time, Bresthra allowed herself to watch him. Fighters had a grace about them, a swagger, a confidence to their walk that broadcasted who they were without ever saying it. But he walked like something less... elf like and more animal. Like a cat would walk, it's whole body in perfect harmony. With a grace and easy stealth that was simply natural. It made her heart beat a little quicker as he moved past her. Every ounce of will was required –not- to reach out and touch him.

Bresthra was very amused by his response. Something so cryptic and elusive it actually made her more interested in him. After all, when was the last time she'd met any wild elf, let alone a drow look alike that looked... well, like that. She was so used to those in finery, the drow wearing expensive clothes that were cut to fit and flatter. And they were nice. Sharess knew how eager Bresthra was for a dressed up drow. But this look, this out and out wild appearance this male had... well, it was definitely new. Bresthra –loved- new things. If there was one sure fire way to catch the woman's attention, it was to be different. Unique.

With him so close now, Bresthra allowed herself to study him once more. After getting a rather good view of him walking, she was now able to pick him apart a little more. Some ranger, she'd guess. The bow, the grace in which he moved... He had to be some flavor of that base class. Bresthra had traveled often enough, and had been taught by Veithean how to spot who was what just by looking. It had amazed her to no end what she had missed before becoming a student to the drow assassin and high priest of Sharess. The amount of physical signals someone's body gave off were near overwhelming if one knew what to look for. Granted, Veithean had been more her religious guide than a teacher of the assassin arts, but she'd picked up quite a bit from him.

She smirked a little when he took a step back. Was he uncomfortable around her? How terribly amusing that thought was. Maybe he was strictly a loner... That would explain the manners regarding their 'hellos'. An arrow whistling by was not exactly the nicest way to let someone know you were there. Granted, she was a drow. And that was an a-typical surface elf reaction to drow. Shoot first. Then ask. Only he'd bothered to miss first rather than trying to kick the answers out of her. Which led Bresthra to believe that, over all, he wasn't so bad. Of course, he could lead her away to some companions that are out and about, and then kick the answers out of her... But Bresthra found herself willing to risk it. If only because he was so very, very interesting.

Then, she bowed a little. It was the sort of movement someone with her ample cleavage was used to doing. A clear, brief moment to peer down the front of her shirt. It always amused her to no end to watch and see who would, and who wouldn't. This elf, drow or otherwise, seemed to be the type that would be too stubborn to do so. "You are kind," she said then before straightening. " Lead away then. You would know what is best." Bresthra smiled at him then, an almost playful quirking of her lips. Where he planned to lead them, she couldn't say. But she was too intrigued now to even consider what peril she might be in. There was bliss in the amount of ignorance she had for this new land. However, he didn't seem immediately repulsed by her mere presence, so maybe she could get some information out of him. She'd find out just how chatty he could be once they got somewhere... that wasn't right here. Bresthra was in rather high spirits though. So far, since coming to this new place, things were going rather well. Sure, he'd shot at her... but he'd missed. And he'd given his name... What more could she ask for, considering her usual bad luck regarding new places and the like. Which only made Bresthra idly wonder what could go bad now... something had to. It was the trend.

The spirits of the wood surrounding him did more than treat to the preference of being secluded in nature itself but moreover lent itself to the entire theory that Umbraeons were born from the remnants of nature.  They were a faithful people to their single creator and of him they believed that he created the seven star signs, which every Umbraeon was born under.  However, Hysaeda's was the most ambiguous and treacherous of all: the Serpent.  Said to wander the stars and attack the spirits of the other signs, those born under the sign of the Serpent were said to be a siphon to the life forces around them.  Of course this was only mild superstition but a contributing source to his childhood torment.  Nobody wanted an Umbraeon around who not only looked like a Drow but also was born under a most dreaded sign.

The stars hanging above them like midnight candles shone bright and were amongst the only light in the sky, the moon.  Casting down into the canopy of trees, Hysaeda eyed curiously as the line reflected against the drow's similarly shaded skin.  Amidst the few seconds of silence that passed between them, he too took the moment to survey her appearance now that he had a better view.  Her outward appearance was nigh flawless and he could so now how easy it would be to mistake him as one of her kind.  Her hair, though light, wasn't exactly white but an extremely light shade of silver that it was simple to compare the two.  And their eyes held the same type of ruby sort of appearance, though he could say his were more lave-like than her blood-colored ones.  Suffice to say, if it weren't for his facial tattoos he may as well have stopped calling himself Umbraeon and became a drow.

On another, much less serious note, her choice of dress concerned him a little.  Did every drow from the bowels of the world dress like she did?  Wasn't she cold?  To him, she looked as if she were headed to the nearest brothel, which wasn't anywhere near here.  Yet those questions did little to help the sheer awkwardness of the situation between a scantily clad drow and a native dressed Umbraeon.  It wasn't that he had a problem with it; it was merely a form of dress he was unaccustomed to and despite the fact that Umbraeons were an amazingly adaptable, they were just as equally stubborn.  And plus, winters in the Thunderblacks could be rather brutal if you didn't have the right clothing.

Her next action, from what he observed, was one he assumed to be idiosyncratic of her kind.  Hysaeda, out of pure curiosity, watched her lean forward in a sort of bow as the sight of her cleavage revealed itself.  His eyes went wide for a second and his brows rose as he snapped them back to her face.  Apparently he was indignantly discombobulated by this and he set his once hanging jaw tightly, muscles protruding and quirked his brows.  Still, he felt his eyes smolder in embarrassment.

She spoke and he was glad that she was no longer trying to flash him, instead leaving him to deal with her leerings.  He merely nodded in response and walked past her, careful not to bump shoulders with her.  Many questions arose in his mind as he strode, asserting his gait so that he could cover as much distance as possible in a short amount of time.  And as much as fear and paranoia could be useful, he didn't want his nerves to get on end about having someone trail behind him.  Sometimes being alone for months at a time really got to you when you had company once more.

He learned to trust his feelings then, for danger was imminent and omnipresent.  He was accustomed to fighting for his survival and it was thus that he reached behind him and clasped the hilt of his scimitar, sliding it gently from its sheath.  While his bow was used to ambush an opponent, his blade was a far better tool to slicing off a head.  The weapon was of an outdated design, even by the Umbraeon's esoteric standards.  It was unlike most scimitars of modern calculations and looked instead like a flexed lightning bolt; a shape that allotted both chopping power and, with its pointed tip, could pierce through armor effectively.

Holding the blade in his dominant right hand, he held his other one back in a motioning fashion to slow down.  "Keep up with me," he commanded.  He couldn't tell exactly what it was but he had a feeling someone or something, was following them.  Maybe that swiftly moving shadow darting from beneath the underbrush had something to do with it.

He persisted with his venture, occasionally drawing upon the natural energy of the trees surrounding him to detect which direction the shadow headed.  Then, still walking casually as if nothing was bothering him, he loosened his grip on the weapon as they neared a large oak planted firmly in the ground.  There was little to no conversation that he incited for the specific reason of concentrating on his target; once it was dead, there would be time to discuss why she kept looking at him so slyly.  And before he knew it, that chance came when the biggest, ugliest, damnable werewolf leapt from the ends of the canopy above.

Its landing shook the ground beneath them yet as it did so there was plenty of time for Hysaeda to swing his right arm around, gripping the scimitar tightly, and feel the edge of the blade connect to something solid.  It wasn't until he heard a familiar thud of a body land uselessly on the ground and the rolling of something round go across the soil and into a nearby bush, that he was satisfied with the blow.  Slowly he glanced at the animal he just decapitated, assured at the fact that his heartbeat had been steady the entire time, and regarded it only slightly, feeling the determination to kill fade away into the recesses of his veins.  "Poor bastard," he said walking away from the body.  "Didn't even have time to attack.  Nevertheless I hate those things.  Come on, there's still much distance to cover before we get to a good spot."

Bresthra took the moment to peer up at the sky before they went on their way. Over the many different realms she'd visited, those with stars were by far the best. Her home in the abyss had no stars, but rather, was perpetually cloudy and muted. What light was managed during the day wasn't enough to be called 'sunlight'. Vampires could wander out in this pale, false daylight and be perfectly fine. To Bresthra, her home had no real daylight. Just a brighter shade of gray. Then there were the worlds with no stars. Cast eternally in some dark universe where only the moon shone and the sun rose at the end of the long, black nights. Those were interesting, but not beautiful. Not like this. Seeing the various points of light in the sky was always comforting to her. They were too alien to be from her home, and too bright to be in the Underdark. A silent reminder she was free from both.

When Bresthra turned her attention to him, she was a little surprised to see that the drow was studying her. Not in the guard like way he had before, sizing her up as a potential threat, but rather like one would look at something... bewildering. Strange or unexpected. Granted, she'd eyed him in almost the same light not a moment ago. How different they were for being cut of almost the same physical cloth. Pale hair, black skin, and red eyes. Though the shades were different, the similarities were hard to deny. Although he looked like he belonged in the scenery and she did not. Bresthra came from a typically cold climate, and as such, had bit of a resistance to colder weather. This mountain air was perfect. Comfortable. In Naratyr, a city in her abyssal home, it snowed all the time. Ice froze to the buildings like a second wall, and the wind tore from the Frozen Waste into the city with the bite only frost could have. It was cold, perpetually so. One did not live in Naratyr and have a low tolerance to it or they died. Even so, she'd came prepared with varying garments in her bag. One of the more useful inventions from her home. It could hold an endless amount, never changing shape or weight. Very useful.

She watched him walk past her with an amused quirk to her lips. Was he purposefully being so crafty in always walking so close to her, or was it continually a non-chalant habit of his. Whatever the reason, it was rather curious. Rather than ask, or inform him that if he wanted to be close, he could, Bresthra merely followed. Like a good little drow. She'd traveled enough that she was easily able to keep up and keep pace. Not the sort of gait she'd set if she were leading, but Bresthra wasn't so she conformed to his. She used this opportunity to peer about and continue her observation of their surroundings. Even though he did become a part of the scenery she happened to like watching the most. Bresthra had a healthy interest in someone that seemed as learned as he. At least when it came to nature. She'd never been able to connect like that, though she'd only made a mild attempt at it. The natural world was something that fascinated her, intrigued her, but not something she was so keenly interested in as to study. It was like magic, but a form of it she did not nor had no desire to learn. The display, the effect, was brilliant. But not in a millennia did Bresthra want to know why simply because that would ruin it for her. It was nice that something was so foreign to her that it remained stunning no matter how many times she saw it.

Because she was paying rather close attention to Hysaeda, she noted when he drew his scimitar. Bresthra made no outward sign that she'd noticed... and it didn't seem like he was trying to keep it from her. She turned her attention to their surroundings, and this time she really looked. Past the magic of the scenery, Bresthra tried to figure out what would make him decide to draw the blade. She would have used a spell, if she'd cared to really know. But her way of dealing with most threats was to wait and see what happened. Then, if necessary, destroy it with a bit of Necromancy. Bresthra only caught half glimpses of... something. Still she cast no spell. The thought didn't ever occur to her.

She was invested enough their surroundings that she made no effort to make conversation. There was a time and place for conversation, and while she was discovering new things... well, it could wait. Besides, with that blade drawn he seemed rather intent on... something.

Bresthra was suitably surprised when a werewolf revealed itself. Fear shot up her spine as she automatically thought of the worst case – that it was S'ric. If her Mother's Hound was sent after her, she'd have no choice but to step in between the two. And that was her first reaction. That her Mother's Hound was here, and that Hysaeda was about to die only because he'd been around her. That thought lasted as long as it took Hysaeda to swing his blade. Only then did Bresthra realize the beast before them was smaller than S'ric, dirtier, without those blue eye that froze Bresthra in place. No, it wasn't him.

Bresthra breathed a huge sigh of relief when Hysaeda decapitated the animal. She felt a small pang of sympathy. After all, werewolves were usually just hungry outcasts... but she wasn't about to wish the brute had been successful in his hopes of making a meal out of them. "Poor Bastard," she heard Hysaeda say as he started walking away. Bresthra had to agree. Her gaze went to him at the second half, when he'd finished with, "Come on, there's still much distance to cover before we get to a good spot." For as jumpy as he had been when they'd first met, he seemed to be fine with leading her now. Which actually made her smile as she thought about it. Bresthra prized herself on being... well, friendly. Sharess nor Bresthra took little delight in being scary, aggressive in a violent way, or appearing threatening. Life was too good for all that. What she and her goddess shared was a want of pleasure. Was the desire to live fully, experience much, and enjoy themselves. In lots of different ways. "My champion," Bresthra teased a little as she quickened her pace to actually walk next to him. As sad as the dead werewolf was, at least he'd acted for the betterment of both of them. She remained close, silent, and no longer interested in the scenery. There was something much more fascinating right next to her.

Like Bresthra, Hysaeda was comfortable with the surrounding atmosphere.  The air caressed his dark skin like a blanket might a child and despite his armor covering only his torso, there were still spaces in which the cool night air could grace his flesh.  He was indigenous to the mountains and therefore would expect every place he traveled would be cool enough within reason; all except that damned desert city of Essryn.  As much as he was in tune with the weather, so was he with the nature about him.  This was his real home, this forested land where he could be secluded from the troubles of civil law or society in general and be one with the wild.  It was here that he learned to appreciate the true beauty of the natural world, the paths of stars, and how to connect with the spirit world.  He learned much in his time alone and most of all, how to survive.  It was his stalwart belief that all things were looking to have an advantage over another somehow and the primary reason why he decapitated the lycan beast.

It was kill it, or have it kill either him or Bresthra and he wasn't about to let an innocent be harmed, no matter how disturbing, crazy, or half-naked he found her.  If he wasn't going to kill her, he certainly wasn't going to let some creature of the night take that charge for him; sure she was a drow, the creature Umbraeons hated beyond all else, but in all honesty, he didn't have much against her to begin with.  Perhaps, he might even be able to understand her better when they reached a good resting destination.  Then he could properly ask his questions regarding just who she was.  She'd only given him her name, but he needed to know a little more than that if he was going to go anywhere else with her.

Hysaeda loosened his once death grip upon the handle and allowed his fingers to gently caress the leather-wrapped hilt.  The paint-like blood of the werewolf dripped a little at the edge of the scimitar and it took only a few wipes of a cloth from his pack to clean it.  But he wasn't ready to put it away just yet.  There were more things in the woods far more powerful than this sorry excuse for a dog.  He certainly had more to fear from an outcast Umraeon tribe than from a werewolf; at least a werewolf wasn't bent on blackmail or torture.  However, he couldn't say the same for Bresthra as she walked up from behind him to his side.  He still didn't know what he thought of her.

Though her action of walking to his side caused him to sigh in relief.  At least she was no longer in a place where her eyes could linger on his behind.  His ears twitched a little when she spoke; regarding him as her 'champion' if he heard her right.  That didn't stop him from glaring at her a little in response.  He perked his eyebrows up and said gruffly, "Don't be presumptuous."

He went on in silence after that and led her to what felt most familiar to him as he traversed this side of the mountain in daylight.  They came upon a familiar knoll that sparked recognition.  "This seems to the place.  There's a spot where I made camp a week or so ago.  I think some of my supplies are still there."  With a nod to himself, Hysaeda ignored that blood-rushing feeling he got when he was too close to her and, instead, focused on getting where he was going to.  They passed a river, one he suspected to be the one he peered into earlier before sunset, and toward the edge of the hillock where it rounded off in a climbing cliff-like hill.  There, away from the trees, was a small cavern inlet, a makeshift lean-to of sorts, that was covered by a flap of sewed-hide.  This was not a permanent dwelling but one that suited him for the time being; never in a million years did he think he would come back to it.

"Here it is," he said before sheathing his sword once more.  "It's not much, but it should do for the evening.  I have rations and drink to last for a few more weeks.  All should be enough for now."  He bent over and crouched into the cavern.  It was small for one and couldn't entirely be called a cave because caves were...well, cavernous and this one just wasn't.  With digression, the 'inlet' as he could call it, had the remnants of a hearth and a few items like wrapped herbs, and a few leather-bound bottles strewn about.

Stepping toward the makeshift hearth, Hysaeda grabbed a handful of the remaining fuel that resided in corner and threw it over the ashes.  Then he placed his hands over it as if he was attempting to heal it.  His lips uttered silent words and slowly but surely his fingertips and hands began to heat up.  Opening his eyes, he stared into the slowly growing pile of smoke that emerged from the pile of twigs, branches, and dead leaves that would light the cavern for the evening.  Eventually a flame rose and emerged in full force.  Pulling his hands away, he was satisfied at this little trick that Heilrak had taught him, to make fire in his studying the early stages of mysticism.

"There," he muttered as he fell back on his haunches, "That ought to keep us warm."

She had no problems walking next to him, to where ever he would lead them. Were she the suspicious sort, she might question why he was being so nice though he knew nothing about her. But Bresthra, truthfully, didn't care. Life would go where it would until she reached the end of it all. And like everything else mortal, she would eventually die. To Bresthra Xorlarrin, that was almost a novel idea. Most of her family had sought immortality for one reason or another. And most had achieved immortality. Whether it was to spend the rest of time as a banshee, vampire, Lich, or in her Mother's case, a Goddess... For her to accept the fact she'd die was decidedly un-xorlarrin of her. Though most of what Bresthra did was very much not what her family would do. She was the only one that didn't pay heed to her Mother, the only one to turn away from Thanatos and everything the Xorlarrin name carried there... the only one to worship another goddess... Though there were rumors of one of her cousins following one of the Demon Princes. Not that it mattered.

Bresthra was pulled out of her thoughts when he said, "Don't be presumptuous." Of course that was in response to her calling him her champion. The glare he added to the words made Bresthra laugh softly. To be nice, she didn't say anything else as they continued on their way. Rather, an amused smile remain fixed on her lips as she spent more time watching him than the scenery. It had lost its glow. He had not.  She'd truly never met someone like him. Bresthra was absently curious how long he would stay around her before going on his own way. He seemed like the type that preferred to be alone. That was how she found him. Apparently rather far away from any sort of city... why else would he be out here?  Bresthra's thought that he spent a lot of time alone was further confirmed when they finally stopped and he informed her this was a place he'd been a couple weeks back. So he'd been out here awhile. She noted the river... Bresthra would have to come back and see how cold the water would be... and if she could tolerate it. There was nothing so refreshing as bathing in mountain rivers. Bresthra continued to follow him to the inlet... then smiled despite herself. Rations and drink enough for a couple weeks. How long did he plan on being around her?  What's more, if the opportunity presented itself, would she continue to travel with him? The answer was easy .Of course she would.

Bresthra watched him duck into his previous camp before following him, rather curious. She'd not have known this was even here without him leading. Though Bresthra's idea of a camp was reclining somewhere, anywhere, and drifting off. Sure, sometimes she awoke to unpleasant things. But other times she didn't. Normal animals were not a concern of a necromancer cleric, and anything that would be had yet to wake her up. She took a moment to survey the little space, noting the bottles and herbs.

Bresthra's attention was drawn to him as he moved over to what had to be the hearth. She shifted where she was, against the far wall, and sat as he went about lighting the fire. Using magic. Her brows rose just a little and her smile shifted to a smirk. Was he a hunter... and a sorcerer? Bresthra was fairly sure that her Mother would've had a heart attack if she knew someone who was a magic user decided to turn to a life of seclusion and nature when they had such an ability at their disposal. For all that Bresthra had pulled away from her family, her Mother was still very much a drow.

She watched as flames leapt up, coating the whole of the inlet in its warm, orange glow. It make the shadows that played over Hysaeda sharper. Because she was behind him, he seemed more framed it the glow than highlighted by it. The added light gave her a new way to study him. Some of his features, his armor, and weapons, stood out more. The general shape of him was lost though. The shadows across his back, shoulders, and neck blurred the details to be found there. To Bresthra, the affect was rather... wonderful. She leaned back, silently, against the rock and didn't even notice how cool it was against her as she watched him for several breaths. Only when Bresthra was sure she'd taken the appropriate amount of time to appreciate the scene in front of her did she turn her attention to her bag.

As she fiddled with the ties, her thoughts were still on him. Several thoughts swirled around her mind, but it all came down to how different he was. From everything she knew. From everyone. Her curiosity was attached to him. Bresthra wanted to know him, about him, what had led him to become what he was. But in that came the knowledge that if she knew him, he would become familiar. Things were always complicated then. Bresthra stared down at her bag, mulling over what she should ask him first. With so many things she wanted to know, she wasn't quite sure what she should start with. In the end, she just settled with, "What were you doing out and about, alone, in the mountains?" Bresthra's blood red eyes shifted to him then, watching and waiting.

He was vaguely aware of the eyes that were surveying his form, taking in the smooth yet angular shapes that made him up, and he tried desperately, without avail, to prevent ht hairs on the back of his neck from standing on end as if a ghost were trying to reach out to him.  It was quite incomprehensible just why there was any interest in him; it wasn't like he was particularly fascinating.  Was he?  There were things in the greater sphere of the world that currently eluded his mental grasp; among those was the subject of attraction.  It was nigh impossible for him to believe that any woman would care to have an interest in him, because he didn't think there was any aspect of him he found remarkable enough to catch a woman's attention.  Well, there was the matter of his hair whose whiteness was so rare that it really only made him a glutton for punishment.

Still, even his unbeknownst ignorance could not stop his body from reacting in the only way it knew how: to retreat.  However, as much as he wish to be alone as he always did, he found Bresthra's company strangely welcomed.  It was a nice difference compared to the constant silence nature offered him.  As a plus to the argument, something compelled him to stay, something almost...inviting...  It was the dark, nocturnal energy that drew upon the spirit of the night and all creatures active within its caliginous realm.  He heard stories of how vampires were nearly driven mad with passion with the approach and arrival of a full moon.  But there were two things wrong with this assumption: One, the last time he checked he wasn't a vampire and, two, what he read in the stars a fortnight ago indicated that a full moon was a while away.  So, again, that brought up the subject of just why Bresthra kept a constant vigilance upon him.  Did he just so happen to look amusing?  Was there a big spider on his head or something?

He was gathering the gumption to inquire that very thing when she beat him to the punch.  He was not expecting her to ask, "What were you doing out and about, alone, in the mountains?"  Suddenly she wanted to know about him and that in itself was enough to send a sharp electric spark down his back.  Nobody ever wanted to know about him before, why now?  

"Uh," he began in attempt to answer; apparently he was still trying to recover from the shock.  "I live here.  And have for a little more than two hundred years.  I travel about from place to place, selling skins to traveling merchants and hunt for more.  I like to be with nature; it's the way of my people."

The answer, essentially, was purposefully vague.  It was that inherent feeling of distrust he had toward her.  How exactly was he to know that she wasn't going to try to locate his camp and lead more Drow there?  Just because he wasn't going to kill her, didn't mean that he was ready to let her have his life in her hands.  Then again, it was difficult to for him to trust any outsider, let alone a single drow.

"Please," he continued, feeling his confidence grow as the conversation would become, hopefully, more casual.  He positioned himself so that he was sitting cross-legged on the floor.  "Sit."  He shifted himself so that he was a medium distance from the fire and facing in her direction.  Then he proceeded to unequip the bow and quiver from his body.  His hands worked the intricate strings masterfully and slid the quiver from the shell of his armor and subsequently removed the bow.  The scimitar came next as his hands reached toward his waist and he untied the sheath strap.  All three items were placed neatly to his right in a far corner.  If he was going to get any rest then it might as well be comfortable.

Reaching into this flask he pulled out a medium sized flask and unpopped the top.  Immediately, the potent stench of hard liquor filled the air and a great swish resounded as Hysaeda took a quick swig of the liquid.  The fire burned down his throat but it was an Ankuman belief that liquor helped opened one's mind so long that it was consumed in adequate quantities.  Turning to Bresthra, he said, "Have some brandy," and laid the container beside her.

He leaned back casually against the wall, his right leg poised like an upside down V now wherein he rested his right arm atop it.  The light more thoroughly graced his features now, the warm glow reaching out to all and caressing his skin, much more satisfying than the night air had done only a moment before.  "You're Drow, Bresthra, aren't you?" he remarked without reserve.  "I shouldn't have fired that warning shot...  Your kind and I, have ill-gotten origins.  Do you even know what I am?"  His own amber-red eyes burned with the question as he stared back into hers, strangely riveted.

Hysaeda had clearly not been expecting her to ask anything. Of course that made her smile. Bresthra usually did the unexpected. Much to the confusion of those around her. Not even the closest person to her could guess what the drowess might do next. She'd simply surprised everyone too often to have them guess anymore. Bresthra liked to believe that was because she actually catered to her own whims and desires. Everyone else seemed restrained by some form moral, social, or otherwise personal obligations and standards. Bresthra did not. What care did she have if someone didn't like what she was doing? It was her life. In that regard, she had trouble understanding why some people didn't do what they wanted. You only lived once.

Even so, Hysaeda answered her. To her, the answer wasn't really vague. It made perfect sense. She nodded a little, showing she understood that he traveled. It's what she did, after all. Granted, she skipped out on the hunting and trading of skins. And Bresthra wasn't going to claim she was apart of nature at all. No, she rather liked creature comforts. That and she liked clothes. Fine fabrics like silk and lace.

Bresthra was pleased to see that he was getting comfortable. She shifted in place. The fire was a little bright without him in the way, but she was easily able to adjust. With the heat that accompanied that orange glow, Bresthra actually felt even more cozy than before. The warmth soaked into her clothes and was a welcomed sensation along her face, shoulders, and chest. The amount of skin exposed to the air made it easier to feel the fire. Her eyes even closed so she could focus on the sensation of the warmth on her. Bresthra remained content to sit, waiting, until there was a familiar scent in the air. One she knew very, very well. Her blood red eyes opened in time for her to watch him set the flask next to her and offer her some brandy.

Never one to turn down a free drink, Bresthra leaned forward to pick it up. As she brought the alcohol to her lips, it reminded her of her Father. Or the figure she'd consider her Father. He always drank brandy when flustered, or when he was meeting with someone he could remotely relax with. Bresthra could make a list of the things her Mother had done wrong, but hooking up with her Father was one of the things she'd actually done right. Bresthra took a rather small drink before passing the flask back to Hysaeda. She let the warmth ghost through her, spreading to her extremities. It would take quite a bit more alcohol for Bresthra to feel anything more than that initial warmth. Considering how many years she'd been heavy into alcohol... and even once she'd cleaned up some, she still drank on occasion. Bresthra had a rather high tolerance.

Once again, she opened her eyes when it seemed that he would say something. And she was not disappointed. Though what he said... She thought it rather silly he just asked her if she was a drow. She and he were one in the same. Or at least she would say so, considering their looks. Rather than correcting him right off, she let him finish. Her eyes matched his look as he asked, "Do you even know what I am?"

Bresthra stared into his exotically red eyes as she considered his question, going through all the observations she'd made since they'd met. His dress, his mannerisms, the quick way he'd dispatched the werewolf, the camp... the fact he traveled and had been for some time... all of it allowed her to sum up rather well who he seemed to be. But that was a 'who' and not a what. What he was... that was infinitely easier. But no matter how curious she was about him, what he'd said, 'Your kind and I, have ill-gotten origins.' Did not sit well with her. Not because she thought he might kill her... but because Bresthra was rather tired of having the crimes of her race hung about her neck like some sort of talisman. She took a long moment to answer him, mostly because she was wondering whether she should make the attempt to explain the differences between the individual and the race.

Bresthra brushed a silver strand of her hair behind a pointed ear. Then, she asked, "Are you telling me that I am responsible for the crimes of my race..." Bresthra smiled to take the sting from her words, "Or would you rather judge me as Bresthra, and we'll see where that leads us? What we are does not define who we are." His response to this would be rather crucial. It would tell her what sort of person she was dealing with, and whether or not there was any hope of them traveling anywhere together. While she could deal with racism, she had before, Bresthra found it was infinitely harder for others to tolerate her presence if they thought she was going to start spouting spiders and sacrifice them in their sleep. The Spider Queen really did give the whole of her race a bad name.

The silence that followed may as well have been a knife that stabbed through the thickness of the air.  By her silence, he felt it was safe to assume that she didn't know what he was.  And by their looks, he also thought that she would assume he was a Drow.  It would've been an acceptable answer had she said anything along those lines, but what she did respond with was another cause for surprise.  But instead of raised brows and a shocked visage, Hysaeda found himself involuntarily grinning and a deep chuckle erupting from his throat.  He found her sudden conclusion overwhelmingly amusing and when the words lost their charm he kept a low smirk on his lips as he said, "You trap my tongue and twist my words.  I didn't mention anything about holding whatever alleged crimes your race has committed against you.  Don't just immediately assume that I'm going to hate you for being a Drow.  No," he shook his head, "I'm not.  If I had good reason to do so, then I would but so far I haven't found anything."

Hysaeda reached into his bag once more and traded the flask for a small rolled up pack of leather.  As his hand busied themselves unraveling the material for the contents within, he continued, "You and I are different.  You most likely already noticed that from how differently we are dressed.  But there's more to the story.  You see, I'm a Umbraeon; we are the native Dark Elves of Le'ranna.  Situated primarily this mountain range.  Out ways are as esoteric as the meaning of gods and humans would call us nothing more than bloody, barbaric savages."  The roll was undone and revealed the dry-ish smell of jerky, which was probably bear meat from the looks and smell of it, but had it's flavor as he popped a few pieces into his mouth."

"The thing is Umbraeons are not the same as Drow.  We bear only the same dark skin and eyes.  Most of my kind have brightly colored hair: Red, blue, green, black.  And only on the rarest of occasions does the color white appear.  That's why I look so much like you do."  Upon finishing his piece, he laid the pack beside him as to allow Bresthra a slice if the notion suited her.  He was about to explain the true message he wanted to convey, but found the works lacking.

Instead, like a masterful orator, he allowed a moment of silence to settle.  It was almost as if he offered reverence to the dead or at least were giving sermons (though Ankuman were the kind of spiritual leaders to do such a thing).  Fear of direct conversation, of revealing too much, of being discovered, no longer flowed through the audacity of is veins.  Replacing it was little more than cold determination, as if he needed to prove to her what he was saying was true.

He leaned across now, much closer to her than he would have wanted to be had he a conscious mind of what he was doing.  His face was fixed in apathy yet his eyes burned in solemnity like a fire in the night.  When he gained enough distance toward her, he rested on both knees, stopping when he was but a few inches from her face, and leaned back against the wall to his side.  

Looking at her intently, he spoke softly as if any thing above a whisper could make the thread of tension snap between them.  "And yet despite all our differences, for there are far more than I want to count, Umbraeons have an inbred distaste for anything that has to do with the Drow.  It's in our blood and my ancestors would most likely claim that you're no more than a common demon, meant to prey upon the righteous and tempt the weak.  Olden stories speak of a common hatred.  Though the same can't entirely be said of me.  Like I told you before, I hold nothing against you.  As a matter of fact, I think you're pretty lucky for having found one of the more tolerant Umbraeons to be around.  If anyone else had found you, I suspect that you'd be dead."

Hysaeda smirked, a crooked grin of satisfied tension, and hoped that what he said was executed congenially enough.  Successfully rendered non-hostile conversation mostly (and usually covertly) depended on not so much on what was said but on how it was said.  Apparently, he was still unaware of how close he was, or else, if he did, he undoubtedly would have retreated several feet from her.  But he persisted in pleasant conversation, grabbing another piece of jerky as he did so.  "But what of you Bresthra?  What might you have against me?"

Bresthra decided she liked his laugh. It made her smile. She watched him, curious and intent. His words though did not match the smile. Rather, her blood red eyes narrowed just a fraction and her smile slid into a small smirk. He sounded almost like some of the more liberal surface elves she'd spoken to. A little full of themselves, a little confident that they would always judge a person by who they were rather than what. And usually that was the case. But most of the time... when it came down to it... Bresthra would see if he was that sort.

She continued to watch him, the smirk in place. The whole time she was sizing him up, wondering if they were about to have some sort of social debate about their respective places in the world. Bresthra didn't much care about how one thought about drow. As a whole, the dark elves hadn't earned a right to wander around and be accepted. But Bresthra wasn't the type to skulk and remain in the shadows just because the rest of the world thought her evil. She knew of a demon who was now a famed Performance Master. Granted, it'd taken him a plethora of years to convince most people he wasn't going to kill them... but now... Bresthra didn't think that she could ever do as well as he had, but one had to start somewhere.  

She listened to him list the differences, and explain that his white hair was actually a rarity. When he paused, she almost thought he expected her to say something. Whatever that could be, she had no idea. Bresthra just kept watching. She was terribly surprised that he moved close to her. The smirk faded and a serious cast settled over her features. This was terribly important to him. Bresthra didn't quite understand his need to clarify, but she would listen. Her expression remained neutral for the whole of what he had to say, as he explained how his flavor of people hated hers. She'd heard this before. She knew this story. The details were different, but the story was all the same. Drow were bastards. Demons. Devils. The scum of the elvan world.

The smirk he had when he was done caught her a little off guard. But he was still close. She studied him as he asked then, "But what of you Bresthra? What might you have against me?" Bresthra would've smiled. That answer was so very easy. She had nothing against anyone. Not against the surface elves that had shot her, or the ones that had gagged and tied her in a tent with the intent to kill her while the 'purifying' rays of sunlight were upon her. Bresthra didn't hate anyone, for any reason. Because she was simply too busy enjoying herself. The elves that had shot her with arrows, she'd saved from gnolls. The ones whom had thought to sacrifice her she'd warned against a drow raiding party.

She studied him, taking a moment to imprint those very exotic eyes of his into her memory. She could've told him everything, and explained that she wasn't capable of holding anything against anyone. But they were words. Compared to the passion he'd shown, how determined he was to distinguish between the blasphemous drow and his own people... She had no words to match that. Nothing that would explain to him that Bresthra lived and loved by her Goddess' will. All she could think to do, to explain it, required more than mere words.

Slowly, so he would know she meant no harm, her hand came up to brush against his cheek. And as he had moved close to her to speak, so did she. But Bresthra finished the distance between them, pressing her lips to his in a quick, chaste, and unexpected kiss. Nothing more than the briefest of contact before her hand withdrew and she leaned away from him. "I hold nothing against you, nor will I ever," she breathed gently with a smile one usually reserved for a lover.

Mist was a phenomenon of nature and as every minute of night progressed, though still quite early in the evening, already the thickness of it seemingly compounded together then further it descended upon the mountains.  Like water, it seeped into the most labyrinthine spaces, clouding, blinding, obscuring.  And it seemed that it was the mist that climbed into Hysaeda's mind and made it hazy.  He felt faint for the briefest of seconds yet elevated and glowing from within.  Warmth engulfed him, not quite from the fire leaping magnetically in the hearth, but from something else; something that managed to escape his understanding.  His heartbeat rang in his ears, like the constant beat of a drum and then he remembered that had this exact same feeling when he first found the drow gazing upon him back in the woods.

Still the clouds making him vague and dizzy threatened to hermetically seal him from within his prison.  Blood rushed through him and he wasn't quite sure what burst of adrenaline triggered such actions.  And still he locked his gaze upon her, watching as would a trapped animal while surmounted the rest of the distance between them.  He fought through the haze, wanting to say something even though she moved so slowly toward him.  Her touch upon his flesh sent ragged sparks of electricity through it and down his neck.  Again the hairs became erect.  Then it happened.

Bresthra brought herself forward, the heat emanating from her skin, seeming to make him sweat and pressed her lips to his.  There was little pressure and the motion was swift and light, but it was enough to make him lost.  If only for a moment.  Then the clouds dissipated and he was left there like a dumb drunkard, barely realizing the fact that she'd just kissed him.  He was swept away and found himself slightly registering words being uttered from her side.  When he looked up at her, he was tempted to say, 'huh?' but then shook his head and listened closer.

Hysaeda snapped out of his trance and said, "What was that for?  Why did you kiss me?"  His eyes became bewildered, slightly disgusted but mostly just confused.  The truth of the matter was though, he'd never been kissed.  Nobody wanted anything to do with him so, naturally, why would they want to kiss him.   Umbraeons had very little restriction when it came to using mates and parents usually never interfered when it came time for their children to find a wife or husband of their choosing.

He wasn't marrying any time soon and was rather suited to living alone.  But even as his mind searched endlessly for reasons why she couldn't use words alone to explain herself, he failed each time.  He wondered always, for he had a calculating mind and questions always arose with someone like him, however sometimes there were things that should be enjoyed without thought or discretion.  He was yet to discover such a thing that didn't have anything to do with nature.

[Sorry 'tis a little short.  I was running low on muse juices.]

Bresthra watched him, easily able to see she'd flustered the man. Despite how momentarily lost he looked, it made her actually giggle softly. Her hand came up to cover the sound as her attention remained riveted on Hysaeda.  She couldn't recall the last time such a simple thing, a quick kiss, had ever done that to anyone. But that was the beauty of a first kiss. That moment when one doesn't suspect the other, the first contact of seemingly intimate intention... First kisses were a favorite of hers because they were so very rare. You only got one with each person, and each one was different. The brief contact she'd had with Hysaeda was perfect for the moment. So when he snapped out of his confused state and demanded to know why she'd done it, Bresthra couldn't help herself. She laughed. It wasn't the soft, hidden giggle from before, but rather the light, airy sound of a female drow thoroughly pleased with the way she'd behaved.

Bresthra eyed him after he'd asked his question, a fully self satisfied smile fixed on her lips. She finally came to wonder how often such a thing happened to him. How many times had Hysaeda been close enough to someone –for- it to happen? Not just physically, but... Well...  Like this. How he'd allowed her to get close enough, whether through curiosity or confusion, it didn't matter. Her gaze idly played over his features as she tried to think of an appropriate response. Why had she? Because that had seemed the best way to emphasize her words. That and Bresthra was rather attracted to the wild dark elf. She'd never seen anything like him. Given the nature of her, reinforced by her Goddess, Bresthra saw no harm in doing as she had. Though it'd clearly baffled  him.

After a suitable amount of silence had passed since he'd asked his question, Bresthra decided she should offer some sort of verbal explanation... even if she wasn't quite sure what a good one would be. In the end, Bresthra shrugged with a small smile. "It seemed to be the right sort of response." At least that was the truth. Bresthra then leaned to pick up a piece of the jerky and take a small bite. Was it so strange to him that she'd kissed him? Besides, it had been very brief. The barest of contacts. Bresthra savored the flavor of the meat, taking her time to chew slowly while she watched him. It was something she'd never had before, but that didn't mean anything. Rather, she liked the taste. Her thoughts shifted to ponder what it would be made of, so she looked away from him and at the meat she held in her hand.

[ Ish ok. I fail too. ]

When it came to figuring out exactly how to react, Hysaeda, frankly, was torn.  He wasn't quite sure whether he ought to take offense, forget about the whole thing, or strike her.  But other than asking questions, what was the code of conduct for this kind of...thing?  Was he supposed to simply accept the fact and move on?  He couldn't be certain that was for sure, but he understood what she had done.  And while he also knew that there were reasons for most things, he'd take this one as the other inexplicable ten percent.

And then a sudden giggle burst from her lips causing his face to grow hot.  Of course, with his skin so dark, it would have been incredibly difficult to detect a blush from his skin but if felt, his flesh undoubtedly would be as heated at the fire itself!  He set his jaw and sniffed indignantly in the face of this impudence, this mockery of his dignity.  Or maybe he just didn't get the fact that he asked too many questions for his own good or perhaps he couldn't comprehend that something just shouldn't be questioned.  Still he waited, impatiently, for some sign of an answer from this now infuriating woman.

Her laugh incited his comparison to those dozens of stories he heard of ancient voices crying out into the night because they had successfully led some wanderer astray through trickery and cunning.  Was she intending to trick him in some way?  He was beginning to suspect that this was all just one big joke and he almost furrowed his brows in anger that she was amused at his expense.  Then, she spoke.  "It seemed to be the right sort of response."  He scrutinized his eyes over her in silence for a second, mulling over Umbra knew what.

Then Hysaeda nodded in mild understanding and asked, "And just what would compel you to think so?  I suppose you go around kissing everyone you get close to."   What was rather interesting now though was the fact that even with this knowledge, even with his minute sense of anger, he still didn't move back.  Her presence was oddly comforting compared to being back in the corner alone.  He could feel the warmth emanate from her skin and, in a fashion, it was as tepid, flushed and glowing as the fire he'd manipulated into manifesting in the hearth.  The difference was, however, the fire he created was coaxed into reality from ancient techniques that beguiled nature into doing as the Ankuman pleaded with it.  In a sense it was a prospect of nature and, in another, it was tricking it into doing the manipulator's bidding.

"Perhaps you already know," he started slowly, unsure exactly how to put this as he watched her reach for the jerky he'd laid out earlier, the meat still retained much of its spice despite having been made a week ago.  Part of being a hunter also required one to be able to prepare food in the wild without entering a single settlement of civilization.  To live alone required one to be content with the art of solitude; it was the first lesson of living in the wild and something Hysaeda was already used to.  Therefore all that was left was the learning of the ways of survival.

And still the words found difficulty exiting his mouth.  But, eventually, with enough tenacity and push from his inherent determination, he ushered the verbalizations forth.  "Nobody has kissed me before...."  When it was out, his confidence doubled and he grinned a little as he added, "Is that how all Drow kiss or just you?"

Even thought Bresthra was studying the jerky in her hand, she could feel his eyes play over her. Bresthra had been the source of so much curiosity over her life, she had an uncanny sense when someone was looking at her. Not stalking so much as... really looking. Like they were trying to figure her out. She didn't actually look at him until he said something. Bresthra's amused expression remained fixed when she heard him say, "And just what would compel you to think so? I suppose you go around kissing everyone you get close to." Bresthra giggled at that as well. Did she go around kissing everyone? Hardly. Of course the image of her doing so was rather silly and ridiculous... if not something to consider next time she was somewhere a little more friendly.

Bresthra shook her head a little, silver strands of hair slipping over her shoulder. "No, no, I don't just run around kissing people I am close to." Her smile turned sly and she winked at him. "I only do so to people I'm attracted to." She was teasing a little. Well, Bresthra did happen to think that Hysaeda was terribly exotic, and that she was attracted to. But she didn't go around just kissing anyone. Her answer to his question had been the truth. The response had seemed appropriate.

She kept watching him as he appeared to struggle with something. The jerky was forgotten. What was he finding so hard to get across...? Thankfully, he didn't leave her wondering for too long. "Nobody has kissed me before...." She had to have heard him wrong. Bresthra just stared at him, clearly not believing what he'd just said. The he smiled a little and her breath caught in her throat. She was a pause, like her whole body was waiting... then he said, "Is that how all Drow kiss or just you?" Bresthra actually felt her face flush at his question. It was terribly amusing to her that he'd asked that. And here she thought he'd been upset that she had kissed him. And he'd never been kissed?! Bresthra couldn't quite understand that... but it thrilled her never the less. She could remember her first, though it had led to a little more than just a kiss.

Bresthra eyed him for a long moment, trying to figure out how to answer that. And despite it all, he remained close to her. That more than anything encouraged Bresthra to be a little bold. Not enough that she would scare him away, or possibly upset him... She didn't want that... Bresthra took in his smile, mirroring it with one of her own, before shrugging and watching him out of the corner of her eyes. A rather sly look. "I happen to kiss many different ways," she admitted conversationally. Like they were talking about the weather. She didn't really expect much out of him at that response. But that smile he gave her was rather... playful in its own way. As was the question he'd asked. And Bresthra was always up for being playful. There was nothing wrong with idle, harmless banter. Especially if the other person was up for it. Besides that, it was nice to see him... smile. After being alone for so long, Bresthra was happy he could at least manage that. Her gaze lingered on his smile, on his lips, wondering for the briefest of moments what he would've done if she'd done something a little less chaste, a little less innocent. While amusing to ponder, the reality of it was that he probably would've freaked out and been rather upset with her...

Just as no person was exactly the same characteristically, no one Umbraeon was either.  Their kind shared merely superstitions and folklore, they had a common culture and a faith and even if there was one who tried to pull away from that, deep down their origins would always somehow resurface.  "You can't escape from your blood," Heilrak always told Hysaeda when he was child.  "Like the spirit of Umbra, it is always with you, in whatever direction you step in."  And this was a lesson the hunter adhered to for all his known years; even if the Xelikuda camp didn't feel like home at times, he would always carry with him the knowledge and lessons of his people.  This stemmed to something that resembled cultural loyalty, in a way.

It would probably be in this method only that he could be predictable by others had they understood him.  The problem with that though was that outsiders were not welcome in most camps, certainly not in any of the high-clan tribes unless they were initiated in some fashion and accepted by the tribe as a whole, for a single voice of disapproval would demolish all chance of acceptance.  Because he was not around others so much gave much room for myths and presumptions to be concocted about him.  And of course, if he knew what they thought, he'd let them continue on their paths unless the notions mattered enough to him that he had to dispel the lies immediately.

And thus was probably why he didn't react as...overzealously as he probably would if he were in an open space with the drow woman.  Because then that would mean there was more space to run....  She seemed different now, as he did.  Comfort settled him and affixed him to the spot beside her and all desire to move away had vaporized like a droplet of water in the desert sun: it was there in all its own glory but it would soon vanish as all else did when the wind blew.  He said nothing as she spoke, merely feeling a fine layer of heat added to his already flushed faced as she said what he didn't expect to hear.  It seemed all chances of expecting anything were vanquished along with his need to retreat.

So there it was out in the open and yet he still found it hard to believe.  She was attracted to him?  Him?  Had he heard her right?  He obviously wasn't going deaf for he still heard the voices of the night audible without.  But still the idea itself was hard to fathom.  What in the world did she find so remarkable about him?  He needed another drink!  Something to calm his ragged nerves (if such a thing was possible).  He might have been capable of moving an inch from her provided Bresthra's voice hadn't captured his attention once more.  And again that inviting smoke threatened to spread across his senses.  

His grin was glued to his face and barely fluxed any until she said, "I happen to kiss many different ways."  With that his eyes went wide slightly and his breath caught.  That it; he'd officially lost his mind!  Never in a thousand years (or however long he was destined to live) did he suspect that he'd be caught in a situation so rampant with prurient tension that he nearly felt his lungs snap from lack of air.  Was it getting hotter in here or was it just him?

Just exactly how was he was going to respond to that was nigh well beyond him.  Still he had to think fast, for he wasn't about to let himself made and ass out of his own hide.  If she was going to wrestle words at him, he'd have to double his defenses.  "I see," he muttered.  "So you are...adaptable.  That's good.  But..."  And now his mind was beginning to piece everything together.  "Is that why you've been looking at me so much?  Staring at me while I've been leading you here and while I lighted the fire?  Because you were attracted to me?"  His voice was smooth and calm as he was beginning to finally understand this—whatever they were doing.  He wasn't incredulous about his questions because, he thought, that if he was, she'd refuse to answer it and he couldn't have that now, could he?

Bresthra was delighted that he continued to remain close. Apparently she'd yet to strike that mark that would drive him away from her. And hopefully she wouldn't. Bresthra liked to think she could read people relatively well. It was something she'd learned and what's more, enjoyed. The drowess was the sort to sit and watch when she had nothing better to do. The varying responses of everyone to different stimuli were near as exciting and captivating as any dramatic play. Besides, it was fun to guess what people were really like. Even if she never got the opportunity to find out.

The drowess found it incredibly amusing when his eyes widened a fraction at what she said. Was he truly not so used to what she'd call light flirting? How utterly alien that thought was to her. Bresthra had always been told, for as long as she could remember liking boys, how they would tease and compliment her. It was a part of growing up. Then she'd filled out and definitely had attracted quite a bit of attention. It was natural to her. Obviously not so much to him. Which made her all the more curious about –who- he was. She was paying such close attention to him Bresthra would've sworn he'd lost his breath for a moment, Much like she had.

Her attention shifted back to the conversation when she heard him mutter, "I see. So you are...adaptable. That's good." Bresthra couldn't help but laugh. She'd never heard anyone say she was adaptable. Certainly a different sort of comment. Or was that a compliment? Regardless, she found it rather humorous. She tried to hide her laughter as he kept talking. His question of why she'd been looking at him explained oh so much. Did he truly not know when someone was genuinely interested? More than that, she felt a little scandalous that she'd happened to be the first one he had kissed. Or rather, she'd kissed him. Though that had rather explained the way he'd gaped at her afterwords.

Bresthra eyed him for a moment, a pleased smile fixed on her lips as she reached out to touch him again. It was a simple whim of hers. And Bresthra always indulged in whims. The back of her fingers brushed against his cheek, rather liking the warmth of his skin. "You could say that is why I've been looking at you, yes. At first, I was just curious." Her fingers brushed along his jaw before they returned to her lap. "I must say, you are rather exotic. At least to me." She winked at him then and pushed her bag off of her lap. More so she'd have a place to put her hands than any real need to move it. Bresthra continued to watch him with that same smile. It had never occurred to her that he might find the fact she was a drow a turn off. Even after he'd stressed how much his people didn't agree with her own. But he'd not killed her... and he'd been the one to move closer to her to begin with. All and all, this whole situation was going rather well.

The drowess briefly considered where this conversation might go. Not that she ever thought so very far ahead. The most she'd thought about the future happened to be how long it would take for him to leave her out here. Bresthra hated being alone. Not that she couldn't tolerate it. But a priestess of Sharess wasn't the sort that took much joy in solitude. It just meant she'd have plenty of time to consider what she would do when she finally arrived.... wherever she might arrive.

[ A little shorter than I'd prefer... >.> Sorry. ]

It was safe to say that Hysaeda was almost utterly dumbfounded.  Not precisely by her actions for anyone with a brain could easily she was tossing herself in his direction but what truly lead him to stray thoughts was the odd feelings that zipped like jagged wild currents of electricity throughout his body.  It zapped every part of him: the tips of his fingers, the ends of his limbs, the maze of his ears, every artery, every vein, every capillary, and every nerve that existed in his body and even down to his brain.  Then the foreboding mist as licentious as it was a moment before seeped into the cracks of his conscious mind.  Like a dry landscape that was damaged by years of ocean wear, eventually the waters broke through.

The laughter Bresthra emitted was becoming something he expected now, at least from her.  For some reason she found every sort of reaction he did as a reason for amusement.  This no longer bothered him in the sense that he found it irritating but moreover just one of those aspects of a person one couldn't skip without happening in some fashion.  He was getting used to it.  But he wasn't so accustomed to her touch just yet.  He jumped a little as she moved her hand to caress his skin, well cheek to be exact, stroking the darkness of his flesh and then proceeding down to his jaw line.

Each grace of her fingers incited an extremely minor gasp from him as she spoke.  He tried to keep his breathing steady and his face stoic; the latter more successful than the other.  Air was forced from his lungs and came through his nostrils like a scoffing sniff but still he remained in control of his senses.  However the same could not be said for the rest of his body.  He found it particularly peculiar how his blood seemed to seep into an...unusual part of his body.  And seem to want to take over every condition of free volition.  The mist grew thick in his mind once more, his sense, where they were once under control, were now getting clouded, blinded by a sheer sensation of instinct.

Then he recognized it.

It was that primal feeling that engulfed his senses before in the forest.  When he'd first met her, with that first stare he felt as if he were an animal himself; a symbolic aspect of a beings attempt to survive in the wild and yet his heartbeat blocked out all sound.  Instead of the noises of the night, he heard only the beat of a consistent drum, the drum of the night that touched all creatures active during the dark hours.  And yet this drum, present now, seemed to take over his mind now, govern his actions and his thoughts.  He almost didn't need to know anything except allow the nature of the beast take over.

He watched with faint curiosity as the drow slid the bag off her lap and he suddenly found himself staring at her form, in a fashion similar to how she gazed upon him earlier.  He didn't speak but thought only of the matter of her nature.  So she kissed him, he thought, she looks like me and yet...all I've ever known was that drow were monsters.  How could she be a monster if she kissed me?

When he finally did find the words to take leave of his lips, he spoke softly and almost mysteriously, "So you find things that are exotic appealing, I take it?  That explains much."  He leaned forward slightly, still not grinning.  "You're very interesting.  Not at all like I'd thought you'd be.  I'd like to know what you might have to teach me Bresthra.  Show me the other ways you kiss."

When her attention shifted back to him, Bresthra took note that he was really looking at her. As she looked at everyone else. No longer pondering the mysteries of her race, but rather he was noticing the lines of her body. Looking at what there was for anyone to see if they truly wanted to. Her fair skin, dark because of what she was, had a honeyed glow to it from the fire. Her silver hair shone, near glittered, in what light was available. Bresthra brought a hand up to idly toy with the strings along the front of her corset. It was easier to lace up and put on this way. It also complimented and accented her ample chest. She allowed the silence that settled over them as Hysaeda watched her. Whatever he seemed to be thinking, Bresthra was clearly the source of it. And that made her feel... ah, wonderful. The drowess adored having someone's attention, no matter the cause. Preferably for more pleasurable reasons, though not necessarily carnal.

When he spoke, she felt a tingle of excitable want shoot down her back. The type that made the fine hairs along the back of her neck prick and a shiver slip through her body. Just a fine tremble. His tone was quiet, secretive... borderline sensual. Sometimes, the right works spoken in such a way could be just as delicious as a real touch. The sound was as much a tease as the ghost of a touch along bare flesh. Then he leaned forward. Every bit of Bresthra was tuned in to the motions of his body, the presence of Hysaeda. This feeling, the warmth that spread to her fingers and toes, the way her heart beat resounded in her ears, and that inner fire that roared was what Bresthra lived for. This was her Goddess, this was her religion. Not the litany of prayer, not the vocal adoration or the blood sacrifice some may do. No, it was the rush of life through her on the cusp of... of something that needed no words to be shared between two people.

Bresthra's blood red eyes peered into his amber red, watching him closely. There was a hitch in her breathing when he said she was interesting, and a small flare of warmth across her face when he said she was not at all what he'd expected. But the last of what he said truly made the drowess watch him. "Show me the other ways you kiss." The words were swallowed in the silence of the cave, but they'd become lodged in Bresthra. Slowly, her hand came up to cup his cheek. Utterly tender, as though he was something so very fragile and important. The warmth of him against her palm was wonderful but not where her focus was.

Bresthra watched him as she leaned forward, closing the distance between them. What response was needed to his request could not be given voice. He'd wished to be shown, and Bresthra was more than happy to accommodate him. They were close enough to share the warmth of a breath, their lips so close. But she didn't kiss him. Not yet. Rather, her eyes slowly closed as she took a brief moment to feel the warmth that his body gave off. His presence that slid along her skin, that feeling that he was there... Only when she'd taken a moment to truly appreciate that heat did Bresthra press her lips to his. This was more that the brief contact she'd shared before. This was fully committing herself to him, to the contact and the physicality of the moment. Her head tilted to the side a little, allowing her to be as close as such a full kiss required. Her hand on his cheek slid down his neck, moving along his skin. She pulled gently on him, translating her want of him to be closer through that small touch.

In the yearlong seconds it took for the Drow to close the distance between them, Hysaeda was near deafened by the thrusts and bumps of his beating heart.  He had a strange inclination to believe that if it went any crazier it was bound to tear right through his chest.  Yet still the incessant tribal drumming buzzed in his elongated ears, knocking wildly at his ribcage.  His heart rate made him warm to the touch and the point of her contact as enough cause to send further surges of electricity throughout the various parts of his body.  A shiver ran rampant and the world outside them seemed still.

For all his life, youth and maturity, Hysaeda hadn't experienced such emotions and perceptions before.  So, naturally he found himself vulnerable to that midnight drum.  But maybe it wasn't the drumming of his heart that blinded him so to the blur of the world surrounding the cavern inlet.  Perhaps it was a force beyond his understanding.  In all his existence, Hysaeda had been raised to open up his mind and spirit to the world around him, to better understand his surroundings.  In doing so, he learned to feel the energies of life, its definitions and differences between crude matter and true luminescence.  Such was pertinent even to the vocation of a hunter who had to be able to quickly interpret his surroundings so that he may best be able maneuver about them.  There were lessons to be learned on either side of this dual-planed world; both in the spirit realm and in the mortal realm.  Currently, as his body provoked him, Hysaeda was preoccupied with the mortal realm.

It was now that, with his mind caught between here and the door to the spirit world, that he too could feel the heat resonate off her flesh.  It was glowing and incandescent yet still maintained that blackish sheen that marked her for what she was.  He couldn't quite comprehend why he suddenly found himself drawn to the warmth.  There's a fire nearby, his subconscious whispered delicately.  You're too close to the flame.  Back away before it burns you.  But the thoughts were barely audible beneath the relentlessness of the drum.

He dared not to threaten to break the silence that settled to make the moment all the more ludic yet overtly sensual in a confining way.  There was an underlying feeling in the Umbraeon hunter that this was more than play.  But then again he wasn't very deft with games.

Her fervent breath washed over his lips compellingly, jolting at his spine and tugging at his sanity.  Still Hysaeda's actions were involuntary and he kept his defenses low as she finally sealed what remained of the quarter inch that kept them apart.  Bresthra pressed her lips to his fully and utterly as if in surrender.  As if he knew all along how to react, the Umbraeon allowed the pressure of her mouth against his.  They parted and accepted the warmth of her tongue while his alone was sent to explore her own warm hollows.  A fire dance exploded in his mind and all over he felt the electricity that became of her contact.  Though she was only touching his cheek, the source was a generator for all he knew.

She then transferred her point of contact to his neck, giving a tender pull to his neck as sign she wanted him closer.  Wasn't this close enough?  She was practically eating him from the inside out!  Still his form obeyed as if possessed, a puppet to a primal force that drove him to deepen the already full kiss that she surrendered to him.  He found his arms wrapping around her and enticing her to conform her body to his.  His hands tinged with all the electricity that seemed stored in them as he teasingly braced them over her flesh.

Bresthra was no stranger to this, but every time it was different. New. To a follower of Sharess, that was the true joy. That every wonderful, blissful moment me some new experience. One that should be reveled in. Because of that, there was no hesitation in her actions. There never was. Bresthra was the type to commit wholly to every moment. So when she leaned in to kiss Hysaeda, it was a giving of that part of herself to him. The chaste one before now was a mere sigh compared to what she put forth now. Like taking a dive off a cliff to the ocean below, the differences were breathtaking. To try and find words to describe, or to differentiate would be to lose the true depth to this kiss, and the chaste promise of the other.

To her utter delight, he responded in kind to her kiss. As though this had been writ out, with each one assigned a part, they reacted in sync. As she tilted her head and parted her lips, he moved to do the same. When Bresthra wanted to explore, she found him more than willing and eager to respond. His own warmth meshed with hers in something she could only call harmony. What thought had been there before was nothing more than reaction, want. Such civilized things as vocal communication were lost here. This was more primal, more base than anything so complex. The simplicity of desire drove her to press her body to his, as though she were made to be against him from the first breath of life. That was the beauty of pleasure. It was universal. Whether found through the joy of celebration, of the heat of one body with another, it was easily understood. What Bresthra offered to Hysaeda was a way of turning to that more base self. The side everyone had, but not everyone investigated.

It was only natural then that Bresthra found her body against his, that Bresthra was leaning against him. Her hands were seeking a way to shed the barriers between them. Though he was so warm through his clothes, Bresthra needed the cloth gone. It became as pertinent as the kiss that she actually touch him, that she be as physically close to him as they were on a more primal level. Bresthra had to break the kiss for a deep breath of air. As her hands found the hem of his shirt, pushing it up to actually touch his skin, she shared her breath with him. The drowess had no desire to pull away. This close, with her lips brushing his, with the soft breaths she shared... any more distance between them was too much. Bresthra looked into his eyes, really looking as though she could see all of who he was... and smiled just a little. Just a fraction of the corner of her lips tilting in a smile before she kissed him again. It was different this time, but no less erotic.

This kiss was slow. Her hands began to work their way up his back, memorizing the feel of his skin as she ever so slightly tilted her head. When her lips parted this time, it was with the intent to consume in an entirely different manner. This was not the hurried passion of the previous kiss, but the all encompassing surrender of so much more. It went beyond passion and into the realm of intimacy. Her tongue traced along his lips before leisurely gliding along his. Bresthra wanted to show him just how fiery such a kiss could be, though the motions of it all had slowed considerably.

A color burst split, ruptured and thundered in his mind, bleeding together and contrasting one another.  A storm raged across the landscape of consciousness and in and out of that disturbing, libidinous mist that surrounded him all over.  As the thunder ravaged the land, swiftly following the lightning that blinded him, Hysaeda was neither here nor there in terms of reality.  He wandered, lost in the mist, dodging the trees and the mounds, searching for light and sound, and yet all he found was it thickening around him and slowly all senses lost consciousness.  Sight faded, scent drifted, flesh was numbed, hearing deafened, and taste was dulled in all as if he was falling headfirst into the darkness of the void.

Hysaeda was consumed now by a mysterious heat that tore angrily at the threads of sanity that left his suspended in light.  As he was cut down by desire, he looked at Bresthra with a vision he'd never before utilized before: pure want.  These emotions were foreign to him.  And though he couldn't exactly be defined as an innocent, for no innocent would have witnessed bloodshed as he did or kill when necessary, he was not used to the emotions that went through him like a livewire.  This was a foreign smoke this was, and as confused as it made him, it also made so unwaveringly focused on one thing.

In the blur of confusion, he was both animal and elf; he was simultaneously ashes and flesh, dying and living, suffocating and breathing, repelling and yearning, chained yet freer than he'd ever been in his life.  He felt drowned in the base of carnal desire, skipping over the brim of intimacy, and in him beat the heart of a beast.  He eyed Bresthra with scarcely concealed want, losing the remnants of himself completely almost utterly.  She withdrew temporarily to regain her breath which he thought was a way of hers to tease him further.  He hated being made the ass end of any joke but because she stayed literally a breath's distance away, he didn't feel anger overcome the primary heat in his veins.

He was baited, given the opportunity to kiss her but mesmerized by the warmth of her breath against his lips.  A shiver sliced through him as she reached below his line of sight and pushed the leathery ends of his armor off.  Like an electric connection, he figured she wanted the thick and flexible obstruction off of him and he found himself more than willing to harmonize with her every action.  But still another side of him screamed in protest, wanting more than anything to fight its way through the mist and back to sanity (if such a thing existed still).  However, his hands busied themselves by unbuckling the ties along his sternum in order to satisfy her desire.  He reached the shoulder straps, deftly unbuckling them in an effort to breath in her mystifying scent.

With the ties of the armor loosened and her own efforts and taking it off of him, Hysaeda shuddered a fluttering sigh of relief.  She returned to him, slowly, sliding her tongue onto his before slowly entering his mouth.  The kiss was definitely not the rough and tumble one they shared only a moment earlier, but his body was no less electrified by her contact.

Bresthra had no real thought as they both worked to shed his armor. It was something that she wanted gone, and through that simplistic connection, he picked up on that desire. The want to touch him, his skin with no obstruction, was supremely natural. It was a step in a journey that she'd taken often. The kiss was the connection, translating everything to him that she wanted, needed, and desired of him on such a physical level. And it truth, if Bresthra had simply gave in like she always did, then she would've pressed for more. The drowess typically had no qualms with pressing for more, for taking a kiss and turning it into more. She sampled Hysaeda, the taste and feel of him with a breathless want that was contained only because she did not commit to something more carnal than this kiss. Like freefalling, she'd gone through the fall... and had reached the ground.

A grain of hesitancy in a Sharessan was unheard of. A feeling of pause was anathema to them. Any thought above and beyond the physical want was cause for serious concern. So what started out as Bresthra having barely more than a feeling, nothing so substantial as a thought but something as base as the desire she'd expressed... she ended the kiss. Breathless, blood red eyes on Hysaeda with a flicker of wonderlust and, for once, confusion. Her skin was inflamed. It could burn her, how much she was ready for something more between them. Her pulse had drummed out any other sound, any other presence but his own. Bresthra could feel the warmth of his body, could taste him on her tongue. Even thinking of how he'd responded to her had Bresthra aching for more. But that flicker of something so insubstantial, that minutiae of.... of.... Bresthra didn't even know.

She smiled to soften the way she'd broken the kiss. It was a first for her. The drowess had never pulled back.... and it confused her. But Bresthra wasn't about to express that to him. It would require reflection on her part, and truthfully... she should go see Veithean, her teacher. He'd understand, wouldn't he. Bresthra's hand came up to brush along Hysaeda's cheek. He truly was gorgeous, stunning... exotic. Someone so very different than what she'd ever met. Someone as dark as her but not the same. Bresthra had never met a drow that did not claim being a drow, and she'd never met, before this, a dark elf that was called anything but that – a dark elf. He was fascinating in that regard, alluring because she simply did not know who or what he was. There was magic in that, the same sort she felt when she entered an area of natural splendor. She couldn't explain it, she didn't understand it, but every fiber of her appreciated it.

Bresthra's thumb traced along his lower lip as she watched him, wondering what she could say... wondering what he would. She took that opportunity to actually look at him now that there was no armor. The play of the fire light, so very warm now, made him glow. For all the similarities, Bresthra could feel the difference about them. Not because he was an Umbreaon, but because he was Hysaeda. They were inherently different, and the only way to make a real connection between them had been what Bresthra had done. Expressed herself in a way that he understood, that anyone could, without the need for words. But now, settling back into a high functioning level, she knew they were contrasting. He could've been drow and the gulf between them would have still been there.  

[[ I'm so sorry this took me so long. >_< I fretted over it forever... ]]

This was a completely new experience for him.  The kiss, the heat, the contact, the electric torture that racked his body was a mind numbing experience that opened new horizons for Hysaeda.  The explosion in his senses came over him as a tidal wave or a powerful tsunami would a small fishing town.  Nothing made sense and thought came only in small, incomprehensible blurs of cognition.  What was he doing?  Where was his sense?  And why couldn't he control himself?

It was almost as if a great fire was burning inside of him, and the heat in his chest, combined with the nigh uncontrollable beating of his heart, made for a prison of pure torrid swelter.  A bead of sweat dribbled down his temple and it was almost inconceivable how he might be driven mad by her touch.  But, fortunately, it was gentle enough and came in small, luscious doses.  Hysaeda was only vaguely aware of small change inside of him, a breath of resistance that fought valiantly against the tide of instinct that momentarily swept him away.  It started out as a gentle, serene whisper and, within a few seconds, it came into become an audible voice in the back of his mind.  You're merely responding, it chided him.  Pull back.  Don't take the plunge.  You're making a grave mistake!

For a moment, as the kiss reached it's peak, he was lost in translation.  For what his body so desired was not quite was his mind was telling him.  It was as if his body questioned, Mistake?  How can something so good become a mistake?  It was a struggle for domination; one between reasonable sense and instinctual response.  He couldn't understand it, but the things the voice of reason claimed seem to make more sense to him and his body was losing the argument.  At the moment's notice he did pull back and, it seemed, at the same time Bresthra did too.  And he looked at her with scarcely veiled bewilderment.

Realizing what his face might tell her, he shifted his expression and tried to keep the fine lines of his face as apathetic as possible.  There was no need to say anything in the seconds that followed the kiss.  And, to soothe the moment, he allowed her to stroke his cheek.  His skin was still static to the touch and the heat that raged in his chest was slowly leaving him.  Apparently reason triumphed over natural intuitive power...for now.  But he wasn't so sure if he could resist the next time, if there was a next time.  He had stood on the precipice of desire and nearly dived headfirst into a volcano's pit.  Umbraeons don't act like this, he thought.

Hysaeda eyed her oddly; curious as why she scrutinized him so.  He too looked her up and down, obviously unaware that an article of clothing was missing from his form.  His body was athletically constructed and, like a kite with a smooth piece of cloth stretched over it, his flesh was tight over his muscles and bones.  The tattoo designs that flowed from his face extended down to his neck and onto the wall of his chest.  The marks were black and stood out even against the darkness of his skin.  It was one aspect that surely made him decidedly different from any other dark elf.  For he was but not in the sense of a drow.  Humans would use 'Drow' as a common term for any dark elf, regardless of true origins.  But even if they knew the difference between and Umbraeon and a Drow, they would never understand why Umbraeons would want to mark themselves with such archaic designs.

The silence settled now and, to prevent it from becoming awkward, Hysaeda felt it was a good time to say something. His throat was dry and the words hurt a little as he spoke.  "That...was an invigorating experience.  Thank you...for showing me."  One might not be able to see it from the outside, but he was still a little dizzy from the whole thing.

[I understand; its okay.  Just try not to take so long next time. ^_^]

Bresthra wasn't completely sure where to go from here. What she'd believed would lead to something more left her... confused and apparently he felt the same way. That meant that had been the right thing to do... right? While Bresthra had thought whole heartedly Hysaeda would've wanted more, maybe she was... wrong.  Maybe she'd actually misread someone. That made her more uneasy than breaking the kiss had. Bresthra spent so much time, energy... She'd prided herself in that ability. Had she been so wrong? And if this time... had she been wrong before? Had Bresthra unknowingly pressured anyone into doing something they didn't want to?

That did not sit well with her.

Bresthra watched as his confusion was hidden. She assumed his new expression was a mask because of how quickly the transition took place. She said nothing as her hand continued to touch his skin. Reveling in the moment and pushing her doubts aside, Bresthra took the time to look him over. Hysaeda really was a stunning elf. How he'd never attracted any sort of attention before startled and confused her. Even if the Umbraeon criteria for attractiveness didn't match her own, how could he be so... pariah that no one had ever expressed the desire she had? It seemed such a foreign concept she couldn't even begin to imagine...

Bresthra's gaze slid down his chest. As though it had a mind of its own, her hand traced the line of a marking from his cheek down to his chest. She did not understand what it meant, but it was no less alluring. She was so wrapped up in eyeing him she nearly missed him saying, "That... was an invigorating experience. Thank you... for showing me."

That made her smile. Invigorating was definitely one way to describe it. Bresthra shook her head, free silver strands shifting about as she did. "Nothing to thank me for, Hysaeda," she breathed, unintentionally sounding rather sensual. Despite the way she'd hesitated, there was a very large part of her that still sang with want. He'd been delicious, hot... pleasurable. But a Sharressan never committed unless they did so fully. It was that thought that made in relatively easy for her to look and touch without throwing herself at him. No matter how appealing that though really was...

For whatever reason, Bresthra was at peace. The heat of the contact was there, the awareness of his body, and her pulse along her lips where they'd touched, but she looked for all the world like a cat content with it's lot is life. She even smiled and, with a teasing wink, purred, "There are a lot of more invigorating things I could show you." Never in a millennia did she think he'd take the offer as anything more than a tease... Her smile grew slightly. Well, wouldn't that be terribly amusing?

[ Not as long as I wanted, but it is 5:20 A.M.... >_> ]

Despite any and all things, Hysaeda knew the reasons behind the neglect bestowed upon him by his fellow Umbraeons; if only vaguely.  The subject of tribes was a serious matter to his kind and there was no law that mattered more than an Umbraeon's own clan laws.  It was y their won tribunal and judgments that marriages were conducted, local disputes were settled, sentences commenced, and clan wars were strategized.  No other clan influenced another's laws, for the only associations between tribes were either through wars or trade.  No one stood above it and no one below it, and though punishments differed, there was but one law that was shared amongst all tribes: Association with Drow was absolutely prohibited.  Because Hysaeda looked like the enemy, he was treated as such.  No Umbraeon woman would have him if he were the last male in the tribe.  And as anti-social as he was, Hysaeda didn't really care to look beyond in the cities.  For all his experiences, he was content to be alone.

His first association with a drow, a female one at that, was over all pleasant and, from the experience of the past several seconds, very touchy.  He knew that most of the hate and feelings held against her kind was just insignificant prejudice.  He was smart enough to overlook meager matters for it wasn't like him to despise someone based on their skin color, appearance, religion, or culture.  Umbraeons prided themselves in being an understanding people and Hysaeda prided himself in being no different in such characteristics.

He didn't even realize he'd lost himself in the moment before, for now he was just barely regaining his thoughts.  He supposed he could compare his current feeling to the recovery process after one got struck by lightning.  Of course, he'd never been struck by lightning before but he was sure the riveting, electrified feeling was no different.  There he sat, as if he'd just been slapped hard in the face, and was only partially aware of the fact that she was still touching him.  Only when her hand reached a sensitive part of his neck did he flinch a little and look down at the tattoo line she was tracing with her fingers.  Her touch was gentle and strangely inviting as it finished its journey along his chest.  The lines there extended into a few below on his stomach but other than that, there were no more.

After clearing his throat, his hand reached up and scratched his head in seeming confusion.  He wasn't quite sure what to say next.  So she didn't want to be thanked?  What kind of person didn't want to be thanked after a request?  He supposed that perhaps Umbraeon manners weren't the same as Drow manners.  Then something caught him off guard.  It wasn't what he thought about before with the whole manner thing but what she had said.  "There are a lot of more invigorating things I could show you."  

Suddenly his brows furrowed in utter bewilderment and it was quite obvious he didn't understand what she meant by her words.  "Other things?  You mean to tell me there are more than things than that kiss?"  Hysaeda eyed her curiously, still not comprehending after he thought about it for a moment.  Tilting his head, he asked, "What kind of things?"

[That's alright.  Don't worry about the length.]

Bresthra felt no need to fill the silence that had settled between them as he collected himself. She was perfectly content to trace the markings, to just look at him. She was still fairly confused as to what... well, as to what had happened. Whatever it was, it left her and Hysaeda not naked. Which could be a good thing since he seemed rather lost about the whole ordeal. Bresthra didn't want to be the one to press anything between them. And maybe she was being extra careful since he'd expressed so much racism against drow. She had to make her race look good. Bresthra chuckled at that thought. No, she'd not pressed anything because of something more. Her being careful was because that's how she was. The rest of her race be damned. No matter what way she tried to explain it, or what justifications she'd managed to formulate, it all came down to she was confused. Again. She'd ran away from home, hated her Mother, denied who she was, figured it out again... or she thought she had. Hells, Bresthra had thought she'd grown up some. Maybe not a lot... But to be so off kilter because of Hysaeda? Or rather, because of her actions regarding him... this just wasn't good. Maybe her teacher had been right. Bresthra didn't know where she belonged. That was rather infuriating in of itself.

Bresthra was snapped out of her mulling thoughts when Hysaeda responded to her teasing offer. His words were simply too unexpected, so innocent that she laughed. She should've know he would have said that. After his curious uncertainty about the kiss, it would only make sense he'd respond the same way when posed with something he didn't know. Bresthra smirked at him, even winking as she said in a teasing, self satisfied voice, "You'd have to take off the rest of your clothes." Surely he'd understand then where she was going with the jest. What else could being naked with her possibly mean?

[woo with fail! ]

Inherently, Hysaeda was a curious Umbraeon and despite his vast knowledge of the world around him, there was still much he wasn't exposed to.  He knew of things he readily understood.  Like rocks, trees, ground, water, and animals were things he could easily recognize and respond to for they were solid and apart of the nature he belonged to.  He residing here amongst the heart of a gentle but carefully chastising mother; nature offered a comfortable world to those who knew how to survive, away from the troubles of cities and clan.  And while clans too resided in nature, they were still tight-knit communities that abhorred major anomalies.  Mother Nature would never reject a child of hers.

Nature was a world he could live in harmony with, a place that called for no strict conformities, one that welcomed all that were capable of survival.  But it was all possible to be both wise and yet simultaneously ignorant.  Hysaeda, as ever curious, knew that there was a whole world beyond the forests, mountains, lakes, and deserts just waiting to be explored.  He was both eager to explore and learn yet completely content to stay within the confines of the thickness of mountains and mist.  But as he explored the danger of this terrain, he had to contend with invaders into Umbraeon territory.  One of which had coaxed him into removing his defenses.

This was not a usual encounter for the hunter and Ankuman apprentice, her touch and lustful gaze.  And such was easily written on the expression of his face.  He wasn't accustomed to being teased nor tricked into removing the rest of his attire.  Like the rest of his kind, if there was an unexpected encounter with something foreign, he would responded with sheer defiance.  Had he known this instead of looking like an idiot, he probably would have darted for the cave exit and ran as fast at the night wind.  Physically, this was something he was capable of.  Umbraeons were rather notorious for their incredible endurance.

Instead, he mulled over her words, trying at the same time to decipher them and decipher the situation.  It was all very cryptic this was until she spoke once more.  "You'd have to take off the rest of your clothes."  Her expression was what he would describe as systematically sadistic, with something prurient burning in the blood red of her eyes.  He couldn't tell exactly what it was but his eyes felt compelled to trace the lines of her visage.  There was something in the pulchritude of her skin that he found morbidly fascinating.

Hysaeda ruminated over what she said, letting the blunt statement sink into thought.  "Oh," he said, childlike.  But when the thought finally permeated revelation, his eyes shot wide and he exclaimed, "Oh!"  She wanted to do that!?  In response, he reached across to his flask, popped the top and took a massive swig.  The liquid burned down his throat and settled his flustered nerves.

When calm seeped through him once more, he looked at her awkwardly, unsure but still undoubtedly curious.  Tilting his head, he said, "Are you sure about this?"  He glanced down at the ties along the crotch of his hide pants, squirming a little at the fact that it was tighter in that area than usual.

[A little on the short side but I can manage. ^^]

Bresthra wasn't sure what to expect. Given how he'd responded to everything else, half of her truly thought he might accept her offer. Granted, this wasn't just a kiss she was referring to. This was something a little more... vulnerable. Revealing. Submissive. While Bresthra had absolutely no problem with committing all of herself to a stranger, Hysaeda simply didn't seem the type. He was curious, but he didn't seem trusting. And he certainly had absolutely no reason to trust her. Her eyes played over his bare skin as she contemplated his potential response. And her own. On the one hand, if he laughed it off and said no, then clearly nothing would happen. That was the easy route, as it had the shortest end. He said no, nothing happened. She could say she was tired... or she could visit that stream. Either way, the moment was cut and there... may not be any more tension between them. Or it would still be there, but nothing would be done about it. Hysaeda was obviously physically attracted to her. She'd gotten that much out of the kiss. Was he curious enough for more?

Now on the very slim chance that he said yes... Now that was... certainly different. Even thinking about that possibility had her pulse quicken just a little. Bresthra was a creature of base instincts and wants. Higher thought rarely had anything to do with her actions because, as a Sharressan, one did what one wanted. Bresthra had been indulging her body's wants for so long that it was already finely tuned to simply respond. Reasoning had little to do with it. And the possibility that Hysaeda would want her on that level... ah, well, that turned her cursory look at him into something a little more primal. Sizing him up as a potential partner rather than figure of interest.

His actual response was much more animated than either of her guesses, making Bresthra laugh as he reached over for a drink and took a substantial swallow. So it seemed he actually did grasp what meaning she was going for. Good, at least they were on the same page. But what he said took the smile off of her lips and made her seriously consider him. "Are you sure about this?" Was she? Hells no. She'd stopped before, for a reason.... What it was, she had no idea. And this... he just was so... so different. Innocent, almost, to what she was offering. The very idea that he would accept such a move from her, a stranger and a drow, surprised her. Ultimately making her terribly curious why. That connection they'd made before... when she'd kissed him... was that it? Her eyes narrowed as though the answer was right there, but she couldn't see it. There had to be a reason he felt so... comfortable.... And she wanted to know.

Slowly, Bresthra shifted to her knees. Her red eyes remained on his as though pinning him to the spot. Her hands slid over his legs before she straddled them, sitting on him. Her hands moved from his thighs, up his hips and sides, before moving around to his chest. Still though, Bresthra watched those beautifully amber red eyes of his. When she was settled, her hands lightly brushed along his jaw before she leaned in as though to kiss him. Even then she did not break the eye contact, which had turned into something a little more... personal. Before their lips connected, she breathed, "Do you want to?"

Suddenly, the mist returned with a vengeance.  Unlike before, when the smoke had gradually clouded his senses as their lips connected, thickening over his ability to think rationally over what he was doing, now it all washed and rushed back.  The tsunami returned and he was caught beneath the force of the wave.  It dislodged his footing, almost quite literally, sending him reeling down to drown in a sea of desire.  He was at a loss and the lightning blast of white over his sights blinded him and suddenly he felt completely and utterly vulnerable for the first time in his life.
 
Hysaeda felt a small fire begin to burn inside the pit of his stomach as he sat there fixated with Bresthra's steady approach.  Each motion was slow and sensual and the first touch of her hand on his leg sent ten thousand volts darting up his thighs and through his lungs.  They became constricted and it didn't help that his breath was already caught in this throat.  He remained pinned by her heart-stopping gaze.  He fell back a little as she got closer, adjusting his legs so that he was more comfortable.  A rush of blood seeped coolly throughout his limbs, allowing a small feeling of relief to enter him and perhaps calm him some.
 
But it seemed she was intent on keeping such feelings at bay.  The heat of the fire made him all the more aware of her presence.  A part of him begged him to back away but, seeing as there really was nowhere else to go, he had no choice but to let her weight fall on him.  The flames burning, both in his belly and in the hearth, pushed him closer to her.  And that part of him, the one that refused to tear away, encouraged him to inspect the prize that landed in his lap.
 
She settled on his legs, straddling him as if he were animal while her hands explored the muscular passages of his thighs. He shuddered beneath her touch, that breath finally being released in a shaking stream.  They moved up to his hips, sending a tingling sensation zipping through him.  He felt a warmth spread to his lower half and the electricity that transfered from her finger tips accelerated his heart rate.  Knowing that there was no where to escape, Hysaeda focused on forcing his own hands to be pinned to the ground, in an attempt to keep them from travelling up her own sides.  The temptation was mind-numbing but his head was too enthralled by her gaze, by her breath, by her closeness to really worry about anything else.

She leaned in, making the pounding of his heart possibly audible to the both of them.  "Do you want to?" she asked.  She barely a millimeter away that he could practically taste the lust leaking from her lips.  What was he to say?  But the fire that scorched his stomach, now raged and overthrew the rule of rationality.  For a moment he was silent and was tempted to close the distance between them.  The last rays of logic were buried beneath the growing pressure down below.  "Y-yes," he breathed, too lost in that swirling mist to really say anything else.

There was something so very alluring in the way that Hysaeda responded to her. Was it because he was new to the sensations? Overwhelmed? Unprepared? The way her touch made his breath catch, barely audible except for the fact she was so in tune with him. Or the way his body trembled slightly as her hands ghosted up his thighs. She knew those feelings, had felt them so many times herself. Even now, the way the warmth if him beneath her hands. His skin against her own had her pulse drumming in her ears. But to see him respond the way she did, to watch that fine shudder course through him was, for lack of a better word, exciting. It was those little cues, the minute physical responses she noticed, that let Bresthra know he was fully aware of her. While he didn't move otherwise, to meet her or touch her, Hysaeda was as in the moment as Bresthra. Maybe he just needed a little... encouragement.

Hovering so close they shared the same breath, the warmth of it passing from him to her, then back again, Bresthra was able to watch the small conflict as he tried to come up with an answer. She wondered how long that battle would rage, how long she'd have to torment herself by being so close to him, to feeling the heat if his lips and not do anything about it. Bresthra briefly considered not waiting and just... kissing him. However, Hysaeda didn't make her wait long. "Y-yes," he breathed in response to her question. It was the sweetest sound she'd heard all night. A slow, sensual smile spread on her lips before she pressed them to his. A hand came up, wrapping around the back of neck as though to hold him in place. There were no other thoughts but her want of him. No more concerns. He was too hot, too willing, and too exotic. Whatever had held her back before became lost in the rush of her base wants, of her carnal desire. As she had so many times before, she simply gave in to it. No hesitation, no doubt. She wanted him, he wanted her. Bresthra tilted her head, running her tongue along his lower lip before seeking entrance to his mouth. She wanted to taste him again. Even so, her free hand slid down his arm before lightly pulling in it, expressing her desire that his hand move to the whim of hers. Bresthra wanted out of her clothes, and the best way to do that was if Hysaeda took them off. The corset top laced up the front, where it could be loosen and pulled up and off, or the ties could be pulled completely off and it would fall away from her. Either way, she wanted his hands on her bare skin... and the top was in the way.

Like with her, there was no room for conscious thought.  There was no space to believe that what she was doing as wrong or a mistake in any fashion.  The way she touched him, invited him, wanted him, made this moment feel so right.  He was lost in that twilighted space between light and dark, floating and drifting aimlessly along still waters.  And simultaneously a tempest raged within..  This process--this thing--needed little understanding.  He didn't have room to think if he was doing anything right because, in the end, none of it would matter.  Instinct would take over and the wild of the forest around him would drive him, both in action and determination.
 
Did he truly want this?  The pressure below would undoubtedly agree.  He ached, almost quite literally, for her touch.  And waiting for the moment to consummate seemed a tormenting eternity.  Yet the questioned still remained: Did he waant this?  A bell in his brain rang wildly as if answering, Why wouldn't you want this?
 
When she kissed him for what seemed like the third time (was he subconsciously counting?), Hysaeda could no longer focus on keeping his hands away from her as the invasionn of her tongue in his mouth distracted his attention.  Thus his head leaned in at an angle, accepting her fully.  The kiss was not exactly the rough one of before, when she chose to tutor him, but matched the slowed but enticing passion of the second.  Her mouth was torrid against his, moist inviting and he was as eager as she taste.  
 
He felt the tug on his arm and he "imprisonment" instigated by her opposite hand.  At this signal, his hands had a mind of their own and took their newfound freedom as a chance to explore her form.  The fabric of the corset was somewhat rough against the coarseness of his fingertips.  Hysaeda never had soft hands.  With the majority of his time spent in the woods, they were also physically designed for hard work.  Still they roved over her clothing and soon found the the cloth to be nothing but an obstacle.  Frustratedly, he pushed against her front, coming up to the ties and subsequently yanking to untie them.  The first few tugs were relatively unsuccessful and it wasn't until he pulled for the fourth time that the knot came loose; after that, the rest of the loosening was easy, each finger taking it's time.  He reached the bottom loopholes in no time and pulled the article of clothing from he body.  It fell away and with that, he pulled her evermore to his heated flesh, wrapping his arms tightly around her.  She would be his this night, and, once commenced, there would be no going back.

Like with her, there was no room for conscious thought.  There was no space to believe that what she was doing as wrong or a mistake in any fashion.  The way she touched him, invited him, wanted him, made this moment feel so right.  He was lost in that twilighted space between light and dark, floating and drifting aimlessly along still waters.  And simultaneously a tempest raged within..  This process--this thing--needed little understanding.  He didn't have room to think if he was doing anything right because, in the end, none of it would matter.  Instinct would take over and the wild of the forest around him would drive him, both in action and determination.
 
Did he truly want this?  The pressure below would undoubtedly agree.  He ached, almost quite literally, for her touch.  And waiting for the moment to consummate seemed a tormenting eternity.  Yet the questioned still remained: Did he waant this?  A bell in his brain rang wildly as if answering, Why wouldn't you want this?
 
When she kissed him for what seemed like the third time (was he subconsciously counting?), Hysaeda could no longer focus on keeping his hands away from her as the invasionn of her tongue in his mouth distracted his attention.  Thus his head leaned in at an angle, accepting her fully.  The kiss was not exactly the rough one of before, when she chose to tutor him, but matched the slowed but enticing passion of the second.  Her mouth was torrid against his, moist inviting and he was as eager as she taste.  
 
He felt the tug on his arm and he "imprisonment" instigated by her opposite hand.  At this signal, his hands had a mind of their own and took their newfound freedom as a chance to explore her form.  The fabric of the corset was somewhat rough against the coarseness of his fingertips.  Hysaeda never had soft hands.  With the majority of his time spent in the woods, they were also physically designed for hard work.  Still they roved over her clothing and soon found the the cloth to be nothing but an obstacle.  Frustratedly, he pushed against her front, coming up to the ties and subsequently yanking to untie them.  The first few tugs were relatively unsuccessful and it wasn't until he pulled for the fourth time that the knot came loose; after that, the rest of the loosening was easy, each finger taking it's time.  He reached the bottom loopholes in no time and pulled the article of clothing from he body.  It fell away and with that, he pulled her evermore to his heated flesh, wrapping his arms tightly around her.  She would be his this night, and, once commenced, there would be no going back.

She was thrilled when he responded. It was as though the kiss had been the catalyst. He'd watched her, nearly unmoving, until her lips pressed to his. The reaction was what she was hoping for. As though that was what he'd been waiting for this whole time, Hysaeda seemed just as interested in kissing her as she was him. Even better though was when his hands moved to caress and roam. Bresthra squirmed a little on him, her hips shifting against his. The corset was nothing more than an annoyance now. Why was she wearing anything? Surely there was a point, but right now she couldn't think of one. Rather, it was just a barrier between his hands and her skin. An utterly unnecessary one. There should be nothing between her and him.

Hysaeda seemed to agree with that thought when he tugged on the ties to her corset. She smiled against his lips when the first attempt or so didn't unlace it. Steadily, though, she felt it loosen when the knot finally gave way. With each loop the lace passed though, more of her was exposed. She could feel it steadily loosen along her sides and chest. Bresthra ended the kiss to explore other parts of him with her mouth just as his hands reached the top of the corset. Her attention shifted to his neck as the corset was pulled off of her and Hysaeda pulled her flush to him. The feel of him against her sans the cloth barrier made her shiver and bite down on his neck. A little harder than she'd initially intended, Bresthra turned the bite into a sucking kiss. Her hands moved then to touch his sides, more to get a better feel of him. Hysaeda was harder than she was, toned from the lifestyle he'd chosen. The tips of her fingers traced along his ribs, moving away from where her body touched his, and around to his back. There wasn't any rush save for the desire to have him. Bresthra's want for his pants to be off meant she'd have to move away. Which was not a wholly appealing notion at the moment. And it wouldn't be until she was too far gone to care about a brief separation. For this moment though, the feel of him against her, her mouth on his neck and his skin bare to her hands, was perfect.

[ woo for double post *giggle* ]

This should have been the moment of absolute surrender, a point where there was no return to that old life of his, but as Hysaeda delved further into their embrace, as lost as he was, there was no way to kill off his instincts that allowed him to live as long as he had.  His kind were long lived as long as they took care of themselves properly but there were plenty of creatures that were willing to tear his head off if it mean for them to live another day.  But still, resisting her was extremely strenuous on his will.  In his lifetime, he'd only ever did what was necessary for survival, never having to focus on more than one thing at any given time.  These matters were undoubtedly beyond him.

Still further and further he sunk into her what he might have construed as a trap if he could think straight.  But her touch, the way she pressed against him, explored him, it—for want of a better phrase—it felt so damn good!  And there wasn't any physical part of him that didn't want her completely; at least none that willingly objected that was.  He twitched a little as her fingers graced the side of him, sliding along his ribcage in an electric touch that zapped wildly at his insides.  A nigh breathless sigh managed to escape him as her mouth moved the sensitive flesh of his neck.  Of any part of his upper body that was perhaps the most sensitive.  Well...second only to his ribs, of course.

His own hands took the time to fully analyze the intricacies of her flesh, to observe what more she had to offer aside from what they sampled beneath the cloth.  They sought out and undermined the ridges of her belly, indicating where hardened muscle resided.  From this he felt it was safe to believe she worked hard with her body or at least had some kind of consistent exercise regiment.  Whatever that was, there wasn't a doubt in his mind that it wasn't doing her any good.

At the moment he was too busy exploring the rest of her form with the sensitive yet callused edges of his hands.   He rode them along her back, softly yet not without purpose.  And as she pressed her lips to his neck, she suddenly sank her teeth hard against his skin.  A throaty grunt of severe displeasure escaped his throat and, after a moment of feeling the warmth of her saliva in place of her teeth, he pulled slightly away.  Apparently the action as enough to snap him back to attention.  Still, he remained rather close, his lips close enough to feel her tantalizing aura of desire practically simmer from her skin.  He brushed his lips enticingly against hers before retreating a mere millimeter.  "You seem like you've done this before," he spoke softly.  "What was that bite for?"

Bresthra was very pleased when his hands traveled along her skin. Part of the joy of being with someone never before was the chance to explore. It was a heady want of hers that thrilled and shot a shiver down her spine. Few things in the world were as intimate as touching someone. That was the basis for contact, something as simple as giving in to the instinctual desire. It only made sense that touch would be a part of the moment. But if was different than just holding someone. Willingly exploring their body with touch alone, guiding the fingers along the ribs to the back, down the spine... touching places that usually received nothing... Even better was that his hands were rough against her skin. This made her focus more on where he was touching, drawing her mind to follow the path of that coarse trail. He could feel the fine tremble of her spine beneath his fingers.

There were very few things in the world that could make Bresthra snap out of the wonderful bliss of sensation. Once committed, the drowess was fully, wholly, so. Pain, pleasure, humor... all of it could be tied in to what she was doing and modified to heighten the moment. Nearly any emotion accompanied the sort of commitment that came with her attention. However, the sound Hysaeda made caused a shock to lace through her mind. Warning flags shot up and her mind called a halt to everything she was doing. Like someone had thrown ice water over her, Bresthra's pulse quickened and her eyes widened a degree. She even lost her breath for a moment. She hated doing things people didn't like. Such as bite them. Bresthra almost started apologizing when he pulled away, her addled mind fumbling for the right words to explain how she'd not intended to hurt him... or cause him any sort of displeasure. When his lips brushed against hers though, she felt a fraction better. Obviously he wasn't too upset. Or he had a strange way of being so. Her heart slowed some as her body calmed and she took a deep breath.

Then he spoke.

"You seem like you've done this before. What was that bite for?" She actually felt a fraction of embarrassment, her cheeks heating up. Thankfully she was too dark, and already so very warm, that there wasn't much of a change. Bresthra's fingers lightly traced over his ribs before she answered breathily, "An accident... I... Momentarily overwhelmed." Her smile turned sheepish as she looked away from him, her eyes peering at the rest of his face. She was a little embarrassed to make complete eye contact.

Hysaeda, despite having been accustomed to a fair amount of abuse and harassment as a child, he wasn't quite prepared to have her bite him.  The moment was almost to spontaneous to be anticipated and, quite honestly, he was too preoccupied to really anticipate it even if he could.  The pain did startle him, and make him want to run away (as pain did with most living things).  Unlike her, he did not associate pain as some attempt to create pleasure or excitement.  To him, pain was the epitome of survival.  It served as nothing more than a reminder that you were still alive (even if that was only for about five more seconds).  The base fact was that he wasn't a glutton for pain.  But as far as he knew, while he would avoid it when he could, he would take whatever sort of discomfort came his way if that was his fate.

Hysaeda was raised so that he could associate different feelings with different facts of life.  Pleasure was usually identified with good things like the comfort of family and friends (not that he had many); Humor, with that which deserved the playful honor of laughter, and Pain, with consequence and suffering as a result of a dire miscalculation or fault.  Never at once would he associate any version of the three melded together in any shape or form.  That was, until now.  

He hadn't expected the action and was thusly pulled back to reality by it.  A small grin threatened to pull at the ends of his lips as he listened to her scrambled for an explanation.  It was amusing in the least to listen her spit it out while attempting to avoid direct contact with his eyes.   "An accident... I... Momentarily overwhelmed."  But despite the grin, he didn't laugh, for he had an idea that such an action might be enough cause for embarrassment.  He couldn't tell beyond the pigment of her flesh but could partially from the way she refused to meet his gaze.

As if to encourage her, Hysaeda removed one hand from around her, felt his away from her side, along the outskirts of her breast and up to her face.  From there he cupped her cheek as if in comfort, and gently raised her eyes to his.  He smiled faintly as he said, "If that's what you do when you're overwhelmed, I'd hate to see what you do when you're life is at stake.  If you do anything at all."  For a moment he recalled how she reacted when he shot at her with an arrow.  He knew he'd missed on purpose, but he wondered faintly just what she would have done in the event that they had a confrontation.  In a way, if he had kept his guard up, that would have been the ultimate result.

Like his hands had been doing as of late, they explored the other parts of her that he'd missed before.  And one was her face.  She had an unusual look about her, one that was obviously well put together and whatever arcane creator took time in making her, they very careful about making her exceptionally beautiful.  And that was another question: Did he think her beautiful?  Yes, he did.  But it was in his nature to find all things beautiful, unless he saw reason to think otherwise.  His hand was careful in scrutinizing the fine lines of her face, gently tracing her jaw line, brushing her cheekbones with the back of his fingertips and placing his hands so that he had the whole of the side of her skull in his palm.  He was dedicated to every motion, like an artist at work or a warrior with the soul of a poet.  Each fingertip worked through the softness of her hair, his blood continuously rushed at the feel of it.  And albeit they were still close, his voice was barely above a ghost of a whisper, "You asked me if this is what I wanted and replied, 'Yes.'  Now, I ask you, what do you want?"

There were few things that ever gave Bresthra pause. Fewer still was the list of actions that she'd either never experience, or were of such a rarity that they took her breath away and left her feeling light headed. The almost tender touch of his hand, the way it slid up her side to cup her cheek and draw her eyes to his was one of those actions. It was rare for her to be touched with such care, like she might break. More than that, his smile further soothed her panicked heart. He wasn't upset. Or disgusted. That enabled a huge weight to be lifted from her shoulders, making it possible to easily meet his eyes now. Bresthra didn't feel shame, but she did feel bad for things she did against another's will. Seeing as how he didn't seem upset, she wasn't. It was as simple as that. Her head tilted a little into his touch, the warmth of his hand.... was reassuring. One emotion she'd only ever felt once before in this setting. Once. And that had her breath closing off in her throat. To think of that now.... The warmth washed from her, leaving Bresthra to feel... cold. Real. The haze of the moment was lifted, leaving her to look at Hysaeda with something more akin to... confusion.

He spoke, but she didn't hear. The words were lost as she stilled on him like a frightened animal, body tense, her eyes unwavering on his. Why? Because of the –way- he was touching her now. His hand was lightly exploring her face. No one, save one person, had ever taken the time... had ever looked at her and saw something more than someone to sleep with. Hysaeda wasn't looking at a Sharressen committed to the revelry of life, but rather, Bresthra. A drow that had never been in any sort of intimate setting save one that invariably led to sex. This... this was different. So unusual she didn't know how to react. What was the appropriate response? How could she explain the way her blood warmed, but her pulse was so slow? It wasn't excitement, it was... something she didn't have a name for. Something she couldn't explain.

It was all in the care he took in touching her. And not just her, but her face. As though no one had ever thought that was something to be noted, something to take joy in. Only one other had ever touched her like that, and she had no rationalization for that time either... except he cared for her. Not what he could do to her, but for who she was. But –how- could that be possible with Hysaeda? He... he didn't know her. How could she feel this way, with him? What did it mean? This was simply out of her purview as a Priestess. This hit so much closer to home. Closer to Bresthra the drow. Then he spoke, and while the words were soft, she'd all but stopped breathing so she heard him. "You asked me if this is what I wanted and replied, 'Yes.' Now, I ask you, what do you want?" Bresthra stared, feeling trapped... feeling... scared. Afraid of what she could want from him, afraid of the way his touch had redefined the whole moment... Afraid of what it could mean.

She didn't know what to say... what she could say. Bresthra wanted to flee, to lose whatever this reaction was. To understand what was going on.... But she didn't want to move away from his touch. No part of her wanted that contact to end, even if it meant more to her than she could express with words. Her first attempt at speaking failed, leaving her lips partially parted. It took a moment, a pause as she looked away from him. "I don't know," she admitted. What could it mean to her if they continued? Why would it mean more if they did? She just... didn't understand.

Of all the emotions of survival, aside from anger, fear was perhaps the most useful.  Fear was the instigator and agitator that taught one to be aware of their surroundings.  It instructed its students to, with their awareness, listen to that feeling that swelled in their gut that told them danger was near.  It was a mild extension of the "trust your instincts" concept that most creatures abided by.  And one Hysaeda bothered to wholly embrace when necessary.  These were both self-taught lessons as well as an idea that every Umbraeon felt was a necessity in the preservation of their culture.  This idea might explain his kin's habit to kill first and ask questions later.

But what he was feeling now was anything but fear.  At this moment, what could he possibly be afraid of aside from a while animal coming to threaten them?  And if that happened, he was more than sure each would be able to handle themselves adequately.  On the other note, Hysaeda honed his attention on how he fingered her face.  He continued working with his single hand, gently riding along the grooves of her cheekbones which, when pressed, revealed the solidity of teeth and the muscles of her jaw.  It was there that the callused tips of his fingers moved back down along her jaw and thumbed the softness of her chin.

Each motion he executed raised certain questions in his own mind, as if to expound upon the mystery of why he was alone with her in the first place.  It was true that he knew very little about her and that in itself did nothing to explain what he was doing and, just as importantly, why.  But the way he looked at her, with eyebrows furrowed as if in deep concentration and lips pressed together, was as though he intended to say, 'I knew everything I needed to know the moment I saw you.'  And, if she looked carefully, something burned in the fiery amber-red of his eyes that she currently seemed hooked on.

Why did he look at her so knowingly?  The truth was...he didn't know.  No, he didn't love her, for such a task, with the exception of parents who nerve-rackingly await the birth of the child or the warmth one might share with their blood-kin, took time and knowledge.  Could he?  All things were possible.  He was but a humble hunter who had no place to dare question the ruling of fate.  But he focused more on how he saw her now.  The face he graced in his hands was not that he considered being a monster.  But his words of before could not describe the light in which he now associated her.  No monster, to his knowledge, bore soft lips, vulnerable flesh, and welcoming eyes.  He didn't see her as anything ugly or disgusting as was wont of his kind; such things deserved only to be abhorred.  For a time, his eyes lingered on her with an ethereal semblance; he saw her not as an object but as a true being; a beautiful person.  And he couldn't help but thing that just maybe Umbraeon prejudice against her kind was not as true as he'd originally thought.  There was, perhaps, some truth in them but so far Bresthra had failed to fulfill any of them.  All she'd done was be "close" to him, and there wasn't really crime in that.

Beneath his hold, he felt her tense suddenly as if stricken.  His brows came together in even more curiosity as he heard her answer, "I don't know."  It sounded like it she had a hard time saying such a thing.  Still, he tried to keep the tension at the lowest possible level.  He kept his voice the same soft level it was before as he asked, "Is it difficult to make up your mind?  Do you often seek to satisfy others and don't consider your own wants and desires?"  It was an honest question and sought to satisfy his own growing curiosity for the reasons behind her behavior.

It didn't matter that he didn't have the softest of hands. The rough tips of his fingers along her face only enhanced the touch. Made it somehow more real. To be the continued source of his scrutiny was making her feel... different. It was one thing for someone to look at her with lust, want... with the desire to own. But Hysaeda's expression didn't match any of those. And while some part of her warmed to that look, most of her didn't understand what it meant... what was she to feel? Even so, there was an insistant stirring in her chest and at the back of her mind. One other had looked at her like that, and that one other meant... more to her than anything. So why was she now feeling this strangeness with Hysaeda? She'd only just met him. There was no explanation for how she felt, no justification. It had to be lust simple because it could be nothing else. At least, that is what she tried to convince herself. This tender exploration of who she was, both physically and... emotionally... was just another sort of desire. One she'd never felt before, one she'd never expected... but that's what it -had- to be.

Even if there was something wholly... safe... about Hysaeda... Not in the same sense as when he'd killed that werewolf... something less tangible... but just as important.

It was Hysaeda's tone that kept her heart rate normal. Otherwise, she would've been panicking. She should be. Her mind told her something was wrong... but the look in Hysaeda's eyes and his soft words kept her still. "Is it difficult to make up your mind? Do you often seek to satisfy others and don't consider your own wants and desires?" She didn't know what to say to that. No one had every asked her... not when she'd actually been confused. Veithean, her teacher, had questioned her at length before... but that had been after the fact of her confusion... after she'd already gone through with what she'd wanted. The answers had been simple then because she'd had time to justify her actions. Bresthra had explained it all away by simply saying that Veithean had been wrong... which had resulted in her teacher sending her here. Why? So she could figure herself out... so she could figure out where she belonged. Bresthra had laughed it off, said he was wrong. But now... now she knew he was right. Something had changed, but she didn't know what. The smile she offered Hysaeda was weak, but it was an attempt. "I'm... usually not so... confused." Her world had been nicely colored in black and white... now suddenly, there was gray... and she didn't know what to do about it.

When one received such attention as Hysaeda now gave Bresthra with his serene and harmless touch, it was a common response that the person receiving such scrutiny would feel a growing sense of importance, as if they now had a place to stand in life.  In a sense, this was true for Hysaeda.  For one, she was not only the first real drow he'd ever met in his life but she completely moved to sweep away the misconceptions he had about her and her kind (the latter more than the former).  Of course, she probably didn't do this knowingly.  But in sense, her presence, the first form of company he had in almost a year, which he now somewhat welcomed, was comforting.  Somehow, he didn't feel so alone right now.  He could recall moments of his past where he was at home in his village and still he felt somewhat abandoned, as if there was really nothing for him there.  That was really why he wandered so much.  Not just because he loved the realm of nature but because, even in his place there, he could wallow in his loneliness.  In reality, he was as aimless as a specter.

For now, he was content to know that he finally understood the meaning of trust.  It was something that, in his family's tradition, extended little beyond his kin, but now seemed to be seeped into his association with Bresthra.  And so quickly?  Such was nigh impossible.  He, in all his capacity to learn, couldn't comprehend it himself.  But he felt...comfortable here with her.  There was no threat now and even as she tensed on him, he found it appealing that she didn't withdraw now that the feeling was gone from them.  Yet he still felt vaguely warm, but not in the sense that he lusted after her.  Maybe he did, but what he currently felt was not the same hot-bloodedness of the moment ago.  It seemed more ungrounded than that.

Hysaeda still stroked her cheek and was content to simply speak to her as she again struggled for an answer.  This was understandable when he considered her body language.  When it came, she said, "I'm... usually not so... confused."  As his eyes surveyed the landscape of her face, he said with no hint of a threat in his voice, "Hm...  And what might be the cause of this confusion?  Do not others treat you like this?"  His eyes had a solemn yet drowsy glaze to them and he softly closed the hairsbreadth distance between them and kissed her lips.  The action was neither ravenous nor soft and innocent, but of the essence of Hysaeda himself.  Sealed within was a piece of the solemnity of his spirit, as if to let her feel a part of him that didn't consist merely of his physical nature.  There was pressure there, a certain soft sincerity that burned his lips a little when he withdrew and awaited her reaction.

[Ugh!  Absolutely horrible.   I must have sat for hours trying to come up with something reasonably written to compare to something that was as beautiful as yours *throws self off cliff*.]

The part of her that was lost was trying to withdrawl, to pull away and hide. It was only natural that she should fear what she did not understand. Bresthra's mind was attempting to save her from what difficulty could reside in the answers, if she sought for them. The fear of what all this could mean, of how it could change... anything... everything... nothing... was as real as the fear of death. Not knowing herself was a sensation Bresthra had fought so hard to rid herself off. She'd fought with her Mother, severed ties with the only home she'd ever known, she'd sold her body to survive, she'd gained a religion, she'd gained new friends... all of it in an attempt to redefine who she was. All of the pain, the being caught and chained while being told she would be executed at dawn... She'd considered that part of the transformation. A necessary step to take her to what she'd become... but if it was still all... wrong... what did that mean? That the Temple was a step? That Veithean was a lesson, and not her friend? Not her teacher? That this would all be painful, as everything had leading up to now?

The gravity of the situation caught her breath in her throat, threatening to close it off. This couldn't be. Had she been wrong... again...? And if so, how could she ever be right? She'd thought she was this time, and obviously... that wasn't true. The panic all this created made her vaguely short of breath, her intake short and brief, while her exhale was long and airy. Bresthra's heart threatened to break out of her chest as Hysaeda asked her, "Hm... And what might be the cause of this confusion? Do not others treat you like this?"

No, her mind screamed. And that was the center of her anguish. No one had, why would he? Why...? That why tore her apart, took the calm of his gaze and made it mean something... something she didn't understand. It further made her heart thrum heavily. Millions of thoughts clamored for attention, Bresthra thought she might never get a full breath.

Then the world stopped.

The fire faded away, her heart seemed to have stopped, when he leaned in and kissed her. Whatever it was about the kiss calmed her. Something different, something he'd not had in the previous ones before it. Bresthra leaned into that kiss, desperate for what it was, though she had no name for it. Her hand came up, enhancing that brief connection as it cupped his cheek. But only for the duration of the kiss. When in broke, though she didn't want it to end, Bresthra felt a little less... afraid... She was still very confused, very lost... but that was ok. She could be. It wouldn't be the death of her. She wasn't defined by her past actions so much as what she'd learned from them. There was no static definition of who she was. That could change, and it would be ok. The newfound peace actually made her smile, then laugh a little and kiss him again. Why? Because she wanted to.

Her kiss was brief, but whole heartedly –her-. And when she withdrew, her smile had a warmth to it that had not been there before. And that light in her eyes could've been from the fire. "You are not like anyone else," she breathed, her lips still very close to his. Enough so that they shared a breath.

Change was often something to be feared.  From cultures to individual people, changed was often seen as the equivalent of death since one's world would undoubtedly be different the next moment they took a breath.  And with this association of death was often seen as the need for immortality and the reason why one culture so often became the scapegoat for another.  The need to be preserved, to be able to be content with the here and now as opposed to coping with the thought of devastation would be enough to drive anyone to distraction.  What Bresthra felt, though Hysaeda did not know it, was a common fear and one that even he was feeling.

This moment was nothing he would come across naturally had he never Bresthra.  He would have moved on with his life, lived the same routine as he did the day before: scouring the land, constantly shifting, and staying in one place for no more than three days at the longest.  But here he was in a situation he never would have guessed he would be in.  And he was just as lost as she.  Though he didn't feel the weight of pillars falling around him, he sure as hell fell the shaking of the earth beneath his feet as they fell.  Here was a change he'd never been confronted with, but somehow he didn't want to pull away from it.  He didn't want a scapegoat or the need to feel immortal.  He found this a change to something he actually wanted to embrace.  And this welcomed difference was her.

He hadn't expected her to kiss him back so focused was he on how she would take his kiss.  It had gone better than he expected as she had leaned in against it, even going so far as to grace his cheek with her touch.  It was welcomed and he too braced his other hand to her cheek.  It all went to enhance the moment and it was as if time stopped but the pulse in his body persisted despite the drawback.  When he came back to the present after being lifted by the warmth of her genuine grin and laughter, which was soon followed by the voluntary warmth of her own lips, he too grinned as he listened to her speak.

It pleased him that she wasn't as tense as she was before.  For a moment, he thought it was safe to believe that she was settling down.  And he kept the soft smile on his face if only because it seemed to be the appropriate expression for the moment.  Her breath was splayed across his face as he remained close to her, a hairsbreadth away.  "That so?  I would hope that I'm correct in believing that this is a good thing.  I see a good person when I look at you, Bresthra.  Tell me, what do others see when they look at you?"

Bresthra couldn't put her finger on just what had happened. But there was something to be said for how... relaxed she was now. Just as confused as she'd been a moment ago, still as clueless as to how this would change her, and what that all really meant... Nothing had been resolved. But rather than feeling that desperate need for an answer now... she was ok with not having one. It didn't mean she was any less who she was, simply that she didn't know. Without a definition, Bresthra could still –be-. Understanding could come later. If it ever did. That wasn't a reason she should panic... or at least that's how she felt now, sitting on Hysaeda. He was warm though, comforting... And Bresthra like that about him. And she liked his smile. It suited him.

"That so? I would hope that I'm correct in believing that this is a good thing. I see a good person when I look at you, Bresthra. Tell me, what do others see when they look at you?" he asked then... and it made her pause in her study of him.

Bresthra leaned back enough to allow her thumb to trace his bottom lip, watching that movement while she tried to think of an answer. What could she say to that? Bresthra had no idea what anyone saw when they looked at her... or if such considerations mattered to her. But a memory tugged at her mind. Of the time she spent in Rui'th. What had the people seen there? A desperate drow. That much had been obvious, both from the way one had approached her with the intent to buy an evening with her... and the way  she'd been used. Bresthra had been a prostitute before. She knew at the time what everyone, what her family, would think of that. But she'd had no choice.. or at the time, felt like she had none. The shame of that memory played across her expression, chasing away the smile. Bresthra rarely felt bad, and even less so, did she ever feel humiliation.  But that brief part of her life was one she'd tried very hard to forget. It was one thing to take joy in another, to be with them in a very physical way. But that was based off of mutual desire and want, of an agreement of sorts that required no currency exchange. Being paid for it, sleeping with people she'd made no connection to, she had no desire for... felt like a betrayal of who she was.

All of this proved that she just had... no idea of what others saw. " I don't know," she answered softly, refusing to meet his eyes again. There was something so very honest about Hysaeda, and shamed Bresthra for some of the things she'd done. He didn't know any of it, but it was who he was, so... comforting... that made Bresthra feel... less than deserving of his attention. No one had ever made her so reflective... and she'd never felt unworthy of someone... until now.

Hysaeda could never betray himself.  Not in the light of giving up what he believed in.  For in him burned a pride that was common in Umbraeons but seemed to hold a special place in his heart.  Perhaps it had something to do with how he was treated, that despite the neglect, abuse, and general transgressions, Hysaeda knew that he was proud of his blood more than anything else in the world.  He had a pride in his bloodline that surpassed his appreciations for his abilities to hunt, or how he could scour across the land as silent as a serpent before coming down on a opponent; even prouder than his position of Ankuman apprentice.  The thought that he would succeed his father as Xelikuda Ankuman was knowledge enough to spur his pride that there was a charge he could assume without contest.  Ankuman were chosen by the current leader before he decided it was best he be removed from his station.

Aside from that, it was difficult for Hysaeda to perceive the idea of him feeling shame for who he was or for what he did.  Not so much that he was innocent but he felt he had no reason to believe that what he did, how he lived, the spirit of the god he worshipped and honored was wrong in any way.  Maybe that was due to the fact that Hysaeda, in his isolation, never encountered the type of people that Bresthra did.  It was a fact that she was the first person he'd seen in years and one he wouldn't want to leave any time soon.  He killed to survive like most creatures and lived off the land.  An ancient archaic practice that he understood most outsiders would view as barbaric and savage.  They would claim that his kind needed to keep up with the changing times, but these practices were common truths to Umbraeons.  They would feel no shame for something that allowed them to survive for as long as they had.

But that was beyond this moment.  Hysaeda's smile faded a little when she answered.  Though her answer conveyed little, there was so much he understood from what she said and how she said it that he almost didn't need to hear a proper explanation.  There was more behind the shell of the pursuit of sheer sensual pleasure, something that lurked beneath that was enough cause for her to look away from him with heavy shoulders.  Just as he thought.  He had a feeling there was more to her than the desire of the flesh and was hoping to learn some of it.  Maybe that was the real reason behind his inquiries.  But whatever the truth, that didn't stop him from feeling pity for the first time in his life.  However, this form of pity was not the kind that was filled with utter contempt that surged upon peering at a poor retch but the brand that went hand in hand with sympathy with someone who wished to aid another out of sheer goodwill.  He could only hope to comfort her...if she wished it.

Hysaeda braced her face softly, leaning his forehead softly against hers for a time before coaxing her head up to look at him.  He preferred to converse with others when he could see them face to face.  "Bresthra," he started with no more than a gentle tone.  "Let me tell you what I see when I look at you.  I see a beautiful person who's been abused by others who could not see the jewel within you.  They took what they wanted and didn't care about anything else.  They would just as soon leave you high and dry before helping you.  You're not a bad person...just used by a sudden cruel twist of fate.

"And maybe I don't know what I'm talking about.  Maybe I'm as foolish as the rest of them and making assumptions that make me even more stupid than I already am.  But I understand what it means to be mistreated and hurt.  There's never been a moment in my life where I could reach for a sympathetic hand.  I suppose, in a way, that makes us kindred spirits"  His eyes were a little glazed over from the confession but it was a sign that he was fully immersed into the moment.

Bresthra wasn't sure what she could say in the silence that followed. The fire seemed too loud, her heart beat thunderous in her ears. Maybe because she was expecting something... bad? Or rather, she simply had no idea what he would do. She usually never bothered with wondering what –may- be, or what –could- happen. But like the shame he'd felt before, Hysaeda seemed capable of provoking some things she'd never felt... and never thought of. Which led her in circles trying to figure out what that meant, if it meant anything, and what she could do to figure out.

What struck such a strong cord within her was how... honest... Hysaeda was. Not in just his words, but his actions, his intentions... all of it seemed to be so... easy... for him. When Bresthra looked at him, she didn't feel compelled to guess what he might really be thinking. There was no look in his eyes that led her to believe that there was more to him, some darker part, which she'd not seen.

She was pulled from her brooding thoughts when he leaned his forehead lightly against hers. They remained posed like that for a breath before Bresthra felt she was able to look, and so did. What he said, and the way it was said, made her lose focus on the rest of the world. The fire, the night sounds, and her heart beat paled in comparison to Hysaeda. No one had ever said anything so... Bresthra didn't even have an explanation for it. There were few in the world that knew what Bresthra had gone through in Ru'ith, and those that knew were not aware of how it plagued her. Hysaeda had seemed to not only realize there was something... wrong... but make a connection to it. The sentiment touched her as surely as his hands did, but in a completely different way.

Bresthra gazed at Hysaeda after he spoke. What could she say to express her... relief... gratitude... appreciation? She smiled a little, feeling more at peace. The shame would always be there, or at least until she could convince herself she shouldn't feel bad for what she'd done... but time was making it a little easier to deal with. And Hysaeda... well, he made her feel... Bresthra couldn't even begin to describe that. There were too many thoughts, too many complications surrounding such a simple thing as a –feeling-. What she did know, and what was the truth was... "This has been one of the most rewarding nights I've had." She tilted her head enough to lightly press her lips to his in a very brief kiss before leaning back... and realizing that she was very much topless. Funny how he'd managed to make her forget that little fact. Bresthra actually felt her face heat up a little. Wasn't too often the drowess happened to –forget- she didn't have a top on.

Now, she could lean to the side and pick up her corset or... she could not. The choices were obvious, what she should do... was not. Bresthra was no where near modest though, so made no effort it either hiding herself from his sight nor turning as though to constrict his view. Neither of them had a shirt on, and moments ago, she'd been eager enough to tug his pants off... After what had just transpired between them though... she wasn't sure what the next step was. She didn't think he'd still be in the –mood- though, not after that.

Bresthra took a deep breath, relaxing some of the tenseness in her shoulders, before she lightly asked, "So should we get some rest...?" Her words trailed off in a question, indicating that if he had another idea, that now would be the time to suggest it.

The moment threatened to seem timeless now.  Never in his life had so little turned into so much so quickly.  It was all almost too surreal to believe.  If Hysaeda's understanding of the world had been anybody else's, there's no doubt that he would have thought the whole thing to be nothing more than a dream.  But he was trained since the age of thirteen to open up his eyes, and to an extent his heart and soul, to the world around him.  To explore as much with his senses as he could with his hands and perhaps it was that that made it so natural for him to pick up on her feelings.  Though he was no empathy, however, and so he couldn't possibly feel everything just by looking at her.  Even if he liked looked at her.

Bresthra stirred something inside him, awakened a mystery, raised a question that he experienced difficulty in answering, let along comprehending.  But unlike his kind's penchant from running away from things they deemed as outlandish (and therefore a danger and must be destroyed or escaped), Hysaeda felt no inclination to flee.  This mystery was a nice differentiation when compared to what he was used to feeling for strangers, which usually extended little beyond annoyance and contemptuous pity (and again with that questionable Umbraeon pride).  And on that note, she didn't seem that much of a stranger anymore.  They still didn't know each other well enough, but there seemed to be a mutual understanding growing between them as opposed to the exasperating tension that dared to fester between them in their first meeting.  He could still be inclined to remain somewhat distant as his character was molded to be, but he found comfort in the fact that he didn't have to be so...defensive.

Hysaeda smiled at her again, this time with a sense of genuine liking.  But he found his brows rose when she spoke. "This has been one of the most rewarding nights I've had."  And with that, she kissed him, his brows still raised in vague surprise.  He lost himself in the brevity of the action and felt his cheeks faintly burn in embarrassment, but nothing more than a simple blush.  Mentally, he questioned her meaning but knew that, for now, it mattered little.  He was content to let her statement be as it was and then he registered it and carefully placed at the back of his mind.

For a time he looked away and it wasn't until his gaze fell on her chest that he realized they both were half-naked.  He didn't blush whatsoever as he surveyed her form, eyes wandering as if across a landscape of ash.  A smile touched his lips when he looked back up at her, eyes smoldering with a scarcely concealed heat.  "So should we get some rest...?"  His brows rose a little in response.  He leaned forward a little bit, kissing her again and though there was a certain want in his voice and eyes, he didn't act upon it.  Instead he said, "Let's do that.  I mean...unless you wanted to finish what we started."  Hysaeda was comfortable enough now with her to consent if she wished it.  And perhaps now, she would be able to decide if this was indeed what she wanted.  A chance to voice her own will, should she be so compelled.

Since it seemed to be a moment before he'd answer... that and she needed something to do with her hands, Bresthra did lean enough to grab her pack. There was a bedroll tucked away in the magical bag. And whether they were going to be going to sleep... or... anything... less than sleeping, the padded comfort would be welcomed. To her, at least. Even though she traveled a lot didn't meant she wanted to be laying directly on the dirt. She pulled the bedroll out of the bag, though the bag clearly didn't look big enough to hold it, before tossing both to the side. Spreading it out would require she get off of Hysaeda... and she didn't want to. Bresthra turned back to him just in time to catch his eyes. Then be caught with surprise when –he- leaned forward and kissed –her-.  Was it so silly she was starting to really enjoy such a simple thing like that? Bresthra leaned into the brief kiss, her hands lightly finding his bare sides. The feel of his skin was wondrous, reminding her yet again that Hysaeda was very attractive.

There was some sort of connection she'd formed with him, though she couldn't put her finger on it. He calmed her, or had managed to. He was comforting, warm... There was a small part of her that didn't want leave that. That clung to that feeling. It wasn't expressly new, or rather, she'd had thought she'd felt it before. Bresthra just couldn't recall when... or why, at that time, she'd let it go then either. And while she would never say it aloud, or even think it too strongly, she was afraid to let that small bit of warmth get away.

It was what he said that made Bresthra smile. "Let's do that. I mean...unless you wanted to finish what we started." While she was almost fearfully possessive of the newfound feeling she had with him, there was comfort in the familiar too. Bresthra liked to be wanted. Granted, what woman didn't? Since she'd gotten a little closer to Hysaeda, it seemed especially imperative that he –want- her as well. Not in the sense she needed everyone to find her physically appealing, which was never the case. She was well aware some people had certain preferences she didn't fulfill. This came down to, well, she liked Hysaeda. And it was only natural she wanted him to like her. And the idea of seeing more of him... Her eyes glittered as the traced along his shoulders, sides, and down to his pants. Her hands moved to follow the path her eyes had taken. "Why don't we lay down," she suggested softly, then added as her eyes met his, "And see where it goes from there." She wanted to keep touching him, and wanted to remain close. It might not lead to sex, hells, she'd be content kissing him some more... All Bresthra knew was that, for whatever reason, she wanted to fall asleep next to him. What led up to that was still up in the air.

In all honesty, it would be immaterial to him in whatever decision she chose.  He decided that it would be best for him to be comfortable either way.  On one hand, he would experience something entirely new and while he was cautious before plunging headfirst into anything different, he wasn't one to turn from an opportunity from which he might learn something.  He had ever the curious mind and it was obvious to him that such a lesson couldn't be learned through the exchange of questions and words; only through action.  On the other hand, there was again that ideal comfort he gained from being around her.  He'd be just as pleased to lay next her as he would on top of her...or whatever.

Hysaeda did admire her for both what she was physically (he wouldn't be male if he didn't) in addition to what he sought in her mind.  Perhaps, as he grew to knew her, he would like all of her.  But until then, it was a certainty that he approved of what he knew thus far.  And given time, should she decide to hang around him a little longer, perhaps she'd approve of what she saw in him as well.  And even that made him curious as to what she thought of him, now.  Normally he wouldn't give a damn of others' opinions but somehow, he found hers would be something a little more...important.  Though only hell would know why.

In the midst of the time of his words and her reply, he had to suppress a shiver as her hands trailed along a familiar path.  It was gentle but enough to send electric sparks zipping past the barrier of his flesh.  "Why don't we lay down," she said. "And see where it goes from there."  He nodded slightly, a small smile apparent on his visage.  As his head turned to the side he noticed her bedroll that she'd placed to the side of them.  Without words, he took the initiative to reach for it himself and attempt to spread it out for her.  The task proved to be nigh impossible since she was still sitting on him, but he shifted on his hip slightly, twisting around her as he set the roll down and pushed the rolled end out of the other side.  When all was set, he said, "There.  I hope that's alright."  He waited a moment, a long pause proceeding between them before he looked at her awkwardly and asked, "Did you mean to lay down on me?"

Bresthra might have found it strange she was sitting here without a shirt, but he was handling it rather well. And if Hysaeda was comfortable with her lack of dress, then Bresthra felt no need to fret over it. For someone who'd never been in this situation before, he was handling it remarkably well. Or so she thought. He'd responded to her kisses eagerly, and he'd not been afraid to touch her when the mood had struck them. Bresthra liked that. Her hands remained on his sides while she studied him, finding he was more...familiar  now. She drew some comfort from that. How he'd gone from a stranger in the woods to this... it was baffling, boggling, and she was thoroughly... thrilled.

The drowess giggled as she was shifted on his lap while he leaned, spreading the bedroll out for her. He was close enough she lightly kissed along his shoulder, running her fingers around to his back. Only as long as it took him spread it out. She relinquished her touching of him as he looked at her. There was a pause where she quirked a single, slender brow. It was apparent he was going to say something.

"Did you mean to lay down on me?" The words combined with the look he gave her made Bresthra giggle. Now wasn't that such a wonderful idea. Of course, her smile turned sly as she leaned close. Her hands returned to his sides, finding that she was loath to not touch him, before she murmured, "Or you can lay on me." Just close enough the warmth of her words brushed against his lips. It was very exciting in a different way to whisper those words. Teasing and flirting was something Bresthra never tired of, nor was it something she'd pass on given the chance. And if Hysaeda actually decided that was a good idea –which it was- then all the better. The thought of having him like that made her shiver a little. Despite the desire to kiss him, the want that was so very strong, she remained a breath away. It'd break the spell to move in before he answered her.

It was a solid fact that Hysaeda never thought he'd find himself in a situation like this.  But he always thought ever situation to be a learning experience.  And furthermore he understood the fact that the pursuit of knowledge, while a noble one, was often a path filled with inexplicable dangers around every turn no matter what precautions one took.  Every new experience was filled with the chance to learn something new, to gain knowledge that might help one in the long run.  Even the moment he first saw her in the forest was one such moment.  At that time, she was a complete and utter stranger, and a drow no less.  Umbraeon custom pushed for a harsh reckoning with any drow that one came across, which called for nothing less than ruthless murder.  Though Umbraeons had their own, unique code of honor, it was little more than

Hysaeda had every opportunity to correct his aim before the first arrow was fired at Bresthra's head.  If, in that split second of action, chose to aim just a little further left, he would have killed her; not a question about it. And that in itself would have been the first drow he'd have killed in his life and would have taught him to live up to his kind's standards.  If he had slain her without thought, without emotion, and done the duty that was set upon every young Umbraeon, he would have been...in a sense...accepted amongst his kind.  But as much as he would have learned in that one moment of action, how much he would have changed just by one severely calculated aim of an arrow, it wasn't like him at all to kill an innocent.  His definition of innocent would differ by far from other Umbraeons but Hysaeda just didn't hurt people he didn't have anything against, let alone murder them.

Such was a base crime and if the news that he let her go unharmed ever let loose, no doubt would he be punished for his ignorance.  But now, this moment which was very much a prayer, he was ready for something that went beyond mental understanding...and he was sure that if he was caught, he could be punished for it; that contravention was rectified only with death.  But despite such knowledge, here he remained with the drow he spared in the forest.

He watched her with no sense of wary, no sense that danger would come to him, but with the notion to simply be in the moment.  He felt completely vulnerable as she leaned in and said just barely above a whisper, "Or you can lay on me."  His brows perked at her suggestion and he felt his abdomen grow warm at the thought.  Without thinking, he smiled, tingling with electricity at their proximity, and whispered softly, "I think I like that idea very much."

She wasn't sure what his answer would be. Thus far, he'd proved to be rather unpredictable. All her perceptions of someone that had no experience in this situation he'd proven did not apply to him. And maybe that was one of the reasons she liked him. It took a certain sort of personality to not shy away from the new. To go with how one felt, and not be held back by the unknown. Bresthra was the same way. New things were glorious because they were just that – new. That's what life was all about. Learning new things, experiencing... living. Bresthra couldn't even think of all the things she could've missed out on... But one of the more important things was this moment right here. If Bresthra wasn't restless, if she didn't want to go exploring... if she didn't take random portals to random worlds... honestly, the odds of this meeting had been so slim. She'd not change that for the world.

Bresthra didn't believe in fate, or destiny. Life was just events, one after another. You took from it what you could, missed out on what you refused to go with... It was sheer chance, even luck, that had brought her here. She wasn't about to squander this chance. Bresthra never was the sort to shy away from any sort of situation anyways.

The drowess remained close as she waited for an answer. Any would work for her. So long as he didn't tell her to go away. Then he smiled, and part of her could guess the answer. "I think I like that idea very much." The words all by themselves made her shiver. As though to reward him, though it was more because she couldn't stand to be so close and not finish the kiss, Bresthra finally leaned in and pressed her lips to his. Her hand slid up his neck and along his jaw as she tilted her head, seeking to turn the kiss into something a little more intimate while slowly leaning back. The corners of her mouth quirked in the hint of a smile as she kissed him and led him toward the bedroll. The shifting was actually easy, since all she had to do was move over to the side then start to lean back. Most of the movement was required in his end.

It was completely unlike him to not look to the future.  But for one moment, one act of spontaneity in his life, he was able to live in the moment like Bresthra.  With her.  And that was all the more reason to seek satisfaction.  Though he didn't agree to this act to seek physical satisfaction (that was really just a bonus) but rather to consummate these new feelings that raged inside of him, to explore them and drift in wonderment at their power.  His lips burned where she pressed her mouth to his, that fierce warmth drifting from his lips down to his cheeks, jaw, trickle down his neck and lower until an inferno burned.  And he would allow himself to succumb to these feelings of want and exploration.  Perhaps, with hope, he what he would learn would change him for the better.

All the while heat rang through him, rampant and unpredictable like a brushfire, Hysaeda tingled and zapped with the sensation of her hands on his neck.  All over, it was as if his body was being tormented and yet he kept returning as did any glutton for punishment.  It was not to say that he was being punished per se, but while all these new sensations were becoming more familiar with every motion of hers, he was still fairly new them and so found them both unusual and gratifying.

He fell into her motions against him, like a willing victim to her desire.  As if he already knew the routine, his head too went in at an angle and he melted into the prodding of her tongue against his, motioning as smoothly as an ocean wave, welcoming the insistence of intimacy.  It was a strange combination for him this idea of unabashed passion and attempting to make an emotional connection; from the first time she showed him to the second, it was one kiss to another; but this combination was one he could easily grow to like.  As she pulled at him, he went down along with her, moving to the side and then down until they reached the cushion of the bedroll.  He shifted his legs to the side and out of the way so that he was atop her now.  Inside him burned now and he was all the more eager as he kissed her with all intent, like he'd done before with solemnity.  His hands slowly drifted down her sides, sliding against her ribs, until they reached her pants wherein they fumbled with the laces until they were loose, from which he then began to gently push them down.

Bresthra shivered as Hysaeda responded to her kiss. As though they'd done this hundreds of times, their motions were in sync. She didn't understand it, didn't care to think about it... She was too focused on how sweet he was, how warm his mouth was, and how they were moving. There wasn't much thought to the 'how' or the 'why', only the action. Each brush of her tongue along his made her shiver, the act of exploring him had her heart racing.  The warmth that shot through her, that slid up her spine and provoked a shiver, drove her. Encouraged Bresthra, made her feel that this was... well, perfect. The feel of his skin, the kiss... the slow way she laid back and he followed her, neither willing to break the kiss as they situated themselves... Each action made her thrum with want, made her heart drown out all other sounds.

Like she was suddenly alight, Bresthra tingled all over when he finally settled on her. There was a plethora of sensation that went hand in hand with that, the pressure of him on her, the heat of his body soaking in to hers, the feel of his skin on hers... Her mind fumbled and tried to give them all the attention they deserved. But there were limitations. Her focus simply shifted continuously. From his mouth, to the weight of him, then the heat of his skin against hers, and... oh, what was this? Hysaeda's hands slid down her sides and to her pants. Another surprise that made her squirm with pleasure. If there had been any doubt as to whether he wanted her, that maybe she was pushing him, it washed away now. She'd not said anything about the loss of her pants, not that she was complaining! Bresthra arched her back, lifting her hips off the bedroll so he could push them down easier. One of her hands remained along his jaw, loving the feel of the muscles moving there as he kissed her. The other sought a path down his side and to his pants. She shouldn't be the only one losing more clothes. However, she was only committing one hand to the removal, which meant some experimental tugs here and there before she was slowly, but surely, loosening the ties.

Hysaeda, almost literally, burned for her, from within and without.  His flesh itched and throbbed for her contact as he lied on top of her.  The sensation of her mouth on his, the warmth the motions, all prompted thrills to ride along his spine, causing quivers to reverberate through him like a shout echoing in an empty cave.  They were driven b a common want for each other and mutual desire...  No, not want.  This went beyond such a simple concept as want; but so much so as to expand beyond the ideal of want and to delve deeply into the lake of...need.  They had a common need for one another that provided a fortress against questions and worry, against the violent sieges of would-be disruptions and interruptions; nothing could scale these impenetrable, magical walls.

As she arched her back, his efforts to push her pants off became much easier.  He rose with her, supporting himself with a slight incline of his knees and allowing his hand to work the cloth lower until it reached her knees.  From there he pushed the rest off with expert work of his legs, tossing off the unnecessary garment like a whisper in the wind, absent and no longer in mind.  With that gone, he was now focusing back the sensations she evoked in him.  He shuddered again at her touch as one hand slid down his side, electric firecrackers burst in his mind, and even more so when she reached the area where his pants began.  He was speechless but he focused more on the kiss, loving the sensation of her tongue against his.  A groan escaped his throat as she tugged against the laces.  Colors raged in his mind at the feeling of her hand down below and a sigh of relief escaped his nostrils as the pressure down below was able to be released as they came loose.  One by one, the loops were pulled out and with his free hand, he helped her along in pushing them down along his hips.

Bresthra was near driven mad by the want for him. Built upon their connection, that sensation she had no name for... the experience had taken on a different rush than ever before. What was it about him? The safety? The comfort? The uncertainty laced with a hope so hot it burned in her chest? Hope for what though? What had he done to her to make her feel so... so... excited, so nervous, so... confused. In such a good way.

Her pants were discarded. Quickly followed by his.

Was in natural for him to want her like this? Was it because he'd never been with someone that he ached for it now, or... or was this because he wanted -her-? Not sex for the pleasure's sake, but sex with her because... because blessed Sharess, Bresthra wanted -him-. And it became so very important that he want her because... because it just was. Bresthra wanted to mean something to him, almost as desperately as she needed his body against hers, as she needed her lips pressed to his, clutching at him.

With his pants gone, Bresthra broke the kiss. She wanted to see, to admire. At least for a moment before they went further. Bresthra's hands brushed down his sides to his hips, her body subconsciously shifting so he would be in the perfect place between her legs. Not yet, even though her body sang with want. Pulsed with it. Bresthra's blood red eyes moved from the exposed skin to his amber red gaze, smiling a little. Almost shyly. She wanted to ask him, wanted to know if he... if he wanted her, or if this was all driven from a carnal stand point. The question was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't... what if the answer wasn't the one she wanted? This would mean something to her. Bresthra told herself that should be enough.

With a tenderness born of the way he made her feel, Bresthra's hands moved from his hips and up his chest, along his neck and down his jaw, using that touch to guide his lips back to hers. With simmering passion, her lips pressed to his again, her tongue wanting to taste and explore again. One of Bresthra's legs locked around his hips, tensing to try and bring him closer. She wanted him, wanted to feel him push into her oh so eager body.

If one dared to look inside his mind, to examine beneath the meticulous scrutiny of a lense, they too would be lost in the rising torrent of confusion and desire.  He didn't quite yet understand what he wanted to gain out of this venture, except that he wanted her.  Hysaeda had never been one to leave things half-finished.  Within him lurked a dedication to that which he felt most connected to, the need to hone his craft, to complete his apprenticeship, to live as he thought best.  And as he wanted Bresthra now, he didn't just want part of her, not just her body.  But the summation of his desire went to the want of her body, mind and soul.  He wanted all of her.

He didn't understand any of this, why he wanted her, why he even cared to stay with her.  But it was there and he would accept it for now and dare question it later, when he had the right mindset.  Hysaeda wanted to wrap her into his embrace, to have her body melt into his without the distraction of thought.  There was a certainty this was beyond just carnal want, something in his mind made attempts to assure him of such.

The skin beneath her hands throbbed, pulsating with suppressed need.  The last of the cloth of his hide pants drifted off his legs without so much as a wrinkle.  There was a madness to the method in which she grazed across his skin, as if she couldn't get enough.  They slid across his sides, causing shivers to drift through him, and down to his hips where the pressure down below had him gasping for breath.  Thankfully she broke the kiss to give him enough time to do so.  His breathing was ragged and sporadic and his heart raged a tribal ceremony within the confines of his chest.

He was barely able to manage the words that dropped from his lips like perfect water.  "I-I need you, Bresthra."  And that was all he managed to utter before her mouth locked over his once more.  A leg wrapped around his hips, pressing herself against him accordingly, encouraging him.  And he proceeded as directed, feeling himself slide into her in such a smooth entrance.  As much as he would have been nervous if he thought about the situation, mostly likely gliding in with a gentle anxiety, he was more instinctive and entered with decisiveness.  There would be no room for consciousness here, only to be with her as he started to move against her with rhythm.

"I-I need you, Bresthra."

Words had never sounded sweeter. Of everything that could've been said, of the volumes writ between them all based on touch, taste, sound, and sight, the vocal expression of his desire, so very simple, caught her breath. She latched on to those words, to the tone of his voice in the way he'd said them, as Bresthra kissed him. He needed her... and she needed him. She couldn't say how long, or what that need meant... but she did. Hysaeda was just... he was pure, he was safe, he was... he was exactly what she needed right now. Everything she'd thought she knew washed away in the simple admonition that Bresthra felt different with him... and that was ok.

If she'd thought to lose her breath at mere words, she was gasping for air when their bodies finally met. There was no hesitation. No pause as though to consider the implications behind their joining. She could've wept with the sincerity, with the unadultered way he pushed into her. No complications, no problems. Just the pounding of her heart and the warmth of Hysaeda as he began a steady pace. Bresthra clung to him as though she were drowning, and he were air. Her legs locked tight, hips shifting to give him the best angle. One of her hands clutched at his back, fingers digging in to the muscle there. Bresthra needed to brace herself, needed... needed him. The drowess was forced to break the kiss as she attempted to catch a real breath, which gave her the opportunity to look up and into his amber-red eyes. Bresthra could've melted then as she breathed softy, "Ah, Hysaeda, I need you..." The sheer truth of it made her look away, buring her face against his neck as she whimpered with pleasure, surrendering herself to him and the assault of her lower body. Each stroke was frictional bliss, each connection their hips made had her quivering against him.

Hysaeda was a well brought up dancer when it came to participating in the ceremonies of his tribe.  He was versed, as was all of the clan, in the traditions that went with it: the ceremonial dress, instruments, and every intricate step that was to be placed at the rhythmic beat of a drum and why each step had to be taken.  There was room only for the greatest of perfection in such dances and sometimes training too several years.  It was structured and strict and had no room for error.  But this...this was a different kind of dance, one that Hysaeda had no training in whatsoever...  And yet, it seemed such was completely unnecessary.  This ritual dance required no experience on his part for all would come as instinct.

And he moved with instinct against her, a strange mixture of carnal want and solemn need.  He needed her now and more as much he needed air to breathe.  To be without her now would be the equivalent to suffocation.  To suicide even!

He came into her at a steady rhythm, the motion of this dance similar to moving to a drum.  But instead of a drum of stretched animal skin, this beat came from the pounding of their hearts combined, beating in unison, in yearning for the desire from one another.  The rhythm called for complete and absolute surrender on either of their parts and Hysaeda knew hers came by the increased tension she places on his hips.  Her legs tightened on him, inciting a groan to escape his throat.

Already the cave inlet was becoming far too hot, the fire that once burned brightly in the hearth was now fading slightly in it's burning rage.  It still lighted the area but it didn't help the moisture that sprouted from his skin as he moved with her.  More groans subsequently followed in his motions, thrusting with ever growing intensity.  The words she whispered to him were music to his ears in addition to the whimpering sounds she buried into his neck.  His lips pressed themselves to the side of her neck as he kissed her, a hand sliding down her side and gripping her thigh.  To feel her against him was a bliss that words could not describe.  He could only answer her response through the language of his body.

The rest of the world ceased to exist to her. The fire faded, the cave, the bedroll... all of it was secondary to Hysaeda. Next to nothing in her mind. Rather, she became entranced with the feel of his muscles beneath her fingers, with the pressure of his body on hers, and the bliss each shuddering breath contained. What made this so different? What made it... special? Ever since she'd saw him, when he'd fired the arrow that missed, there was something about him. If she thought this joining was the answer, she was wrong. There was more... This was meant to help her understand, though all Bresthra could feel was.... unbridled want. Was that part of it? Before, any time she'd succumbed to carnal delight, it had been at the ready knowledge she wanted to have sex. This was different.

With Hysaeda, she wanted –more-. Of what? She couldn't say. But there was something there... something.... Her mind simply failed to grasp as she clung to him with all the palpable desire in her body. He was strong, solid, warm, and wonderful. She couldn't even begin to describe what he did to her, or what it meant. The definition of it all eluded her, and now... she was ok with that. She could appreciate beauty and pleasure though she didn't understand. She would, though. Bresthra gasped his name, resolving not to leave his side until she understood.

Such complexities were quickly pushed aside is favor for the simplistic experience now. The sound of Hysaeda made her tense body quiver. Bresthra moaned against his neck, and unable to help herself, latched onto his skin with a sucking kiss. A response to the contact on her own neck. Her fingers, pressed into his flesh, slid down, marveling that she could feel him move against her. Each ripple of his muscles made her gasp against his neck, though she refuse to let him go. Rational thought was being trampled by sensation. Words failed as she mewled and clung to him. What concerns she'd had before were nonexistent as her whole body tensed, legs locking to keep him so close. The complex thoughts she'd had only moments ago were cut down to replace by only desire. That was all. She simply needed.

Blood roared with the ferocity ten thousand ocean waves breaking in rage against the jagged forces of stony rocks, mocking them with their threatening, dagger-like spires.  In Hysaeda's ears was a sound so thunderous that it nearly drowned out the erratic thrashing of his heart and that was nothing more than the movement of blood through his veins, pushing through like an avalanche across a once gentle slope.  It burned and raged inside him, nearly making him deaf to any other sound save the reactions of Bresthra.  It have him a rush like never before, a feeling of being alive that he neither comprehended or dared to comprehend.

There were mysteries that were brought up when being with the drow that raised questions in his own mind that he, quite possibly, feared the answers to.  As he delved deeper into the ecstasy of the moment, nothing seemed to matter anymore.  Not the moment he nearly killed her, not the prejudices his people created against her own, not even his own pernicious questions.  They vanished as would a whisper in the wind.  They were as insignificant and incorporeal as ghosts in the night.  But just as incorporeal was this new found sense that she had awakened within him: the need for another like he'd never experienced before.

He felt secure in her embrace, though drastic it may have seemed had he any sense other than desire on his mind.  And he wanted her with an equal passion not seen in his life ever before.  There was majesty in the way their onyx bodies moved in unison, pressure exploding colors across his mind.  Hysaeda groaned further beneath the attention of her mouth on his neck, he too letting his teeth glide alongside her the sensitive flesh of her shoulder.  A heavier groan escaped his throat as she crushed her legs around his hips, pushing him further into her and keeping him there.  He thrust harder in response, delving deeper and escalating his pace against her.  Her hands clinging to him as helplessly as they did encouraged him further.