Sea of Diamonds

[Laszlo]

Abalia's voice was like water as she admitted her defeat, soft and yielding to her obvious sorrow. The Ethaefal's brow creased as he stared down at her, his form swept in shadow with the sun to his back, warm against his clothing. His perfect lips parted in want of something to say, though it probably looked like quieted dismay. Perhaps it was; Laszlo was relieved that she was intelligent enough to draw logical conclusions, to accept that her friend was gone and begin the process of moving on, instead of clinging hopelessly to a lost cause. Yet, he so badly wished she didn't have to. "Abalia," he whispered, the notes of his deep baritone somber and gentle. A pair of thick, able arms closed themselves around the girl's thin form, so much smaller than his, and pulled her against his warmth. His felt the wisps of hair on top of her head tickle the underside of his chin as he clasped her shoulder with one hand and ran his fingers up and down her back with the other. Laszlo parted with a slow sigh that rustled the dull brown hair that fell to her mid back, the same few strands becoming disturbed by the machinations of his trailing fingertips. "I'm sorry." Golden eyes flickered toward the sea, the place of his birth less than two years ago. The waters had been so cold, sapping every ounce of strength from his body as he struggled to swim to shore. Syna's love reflected so brilliantly off its surface now, as if the Suvan Sea were some placid, oversized lovable creature. Yet, just at the foot of the nearby rocks, he could hear the mad waves breaking against the walls that held the waters at bay. There was so much deception. "I…" He knew what happened to Roxanne. He knew who killed her. He knew why she died. For nothing. "I've never… had a friend like that. Not that I can remember. No one I hold dear. I sort of had a family in Kalinor but… they weren't really mine. I wish I knew how you felt." She was only human, after all, but these were bonds, Laszlo knew, that Vethis would have died for. This was some secret kept by mortals that made life worth living, that made these lesser creatures so much wiser than he was. Why this was their world, and why he didn't belong in it. "I get so caught up in my own problems that I forget sometimes… if there's anything I can do, I'll be here for you. I mean that."

[Abalia]

Abalia hadn't expected those capable arms to encircle her slight frame, to pull her close in a gesture obviously meant to comfort. She had not been prepared for the onslaught of kindness, especially from Laszlo, who might have been a whole lot more congenial in the daytime, but was still Laszlo nonetheless. She did not balk, however, when she found her cheek pressed to the strength of his chest. In fact, after just a moment, her slender arms lifted to wrap comfortably around him, her small hands splaying against his shoulder blades. "Thnks" she murmured, the sound of her musical voice muffled into his clothing. It didn't matter that they were standing in a street in the most topsy-turvy city in all of Mizahar. It didn't matter who might see, whether inside the Sun and Stars or out. Nothing mattered, really, except for the way his presence made the hurt worse, somehow. It was a necessary crumbling, but not one she had planned to have. Ever, really, and most especially not in the arms of a Syna-blessed ethaefal on the side of the street. She wanted to recoil, to escape the suffocating warmth of his arms, because the lump in her throat was painful now, and she couldn't help the sniffle that eventually came. Not trusting her own voice, Abalia merely nodded against his chest, and tightened her hold on him, so that the poor human was all but clinging to him, accepting this stolen moment for all that it was worth. Abalia had no concept of how long she might have stood there, shedding silent tears enough to dampen the front of his shirt where her face had been tucked safely away from the eyes of the world. Eventually, though... eventually she pulled away. Without glancing up, at first, and just enough to wipe at her eyes with the heel of her palms, until the traces of moisture were wiped away, at least. She felt weak, and pathetic, and she resented that, but she couldn't help but feel appreciative for this cathartic moment. For the enthralling eyes that focused so intently upon her now, as she peeked up at him, a tear lingering at the corner of her eyelashes. The glow of Syna behind him almost made his hair, his horns look haloed and she nodded once more, gradually feeling in control of her voice enough to speak out loud. "Thanks, Laz," she said softly, arching up on tip toe. Her arms rearranged themselves so that they were draped upwards and around his shoulders instead, small fingers burying themselves in his hair as if they belonged there. She coaxed his head downwards enough that she could brush her soft lips to the line of his jaw. He felt smooth. Perfect. Abalia cast a peek upwards at him, looking for consternation or displeasure upon his flawless face. Finding none, she repeated the gesture once more. This time, her pursed pout pressed a kiss to the very corner of his mouth before she rocked back onto her heels, her diminutive size forcing her hands to reorient themselves, this time against his chest. She was still within the circle of his arms, tucked fully up against him, without any immediate intent to escape that apparent.

[Laszlo]

In Laszlo's chest, he felt his heart quicken. The gentle touch of Abalia's soft lips along his jawline had been maddeningly blissful, his eyelids fluttering shut at the electrifying sensation. And then she kissed him, just off the mark at the corner of his lips so he couldn't reasonably reciprocate. It had crossed his mind to kiss her, of course, but in light of his tamed urges to which so easily yielded at night, and the tragedy of Abalia's dead friend, he thought it inappropriate. Had she read his mind? Was she only tormenting him now? It felt like it, because as she drew away, nestling herself against his warmth like an earnest young thing to a guardian. It warmed him to feel her so comfortable in his arms, and he was relieved to offer her such apparent comfort. However, she'd started a fire in him, starting days ago when she'd tangled her fingers in his thin, silver hair in the low light of the tavern. He remembered the way her eyes looked then, fiercer and determined. That was gone from her now, holding her frail, soft body in his arms. His hands slid away from her back, taking a hold of both Abalia's arms and coaxing her back away from him. Abandoning his usual, dayside gentleness, he tangled one set of fingers in her dark hair, holding the back of her head and he leaned in and pushed his lips against hers. The scent of her filled his senses as their lips moved in a polite kiss, reminding him of garden flowers and freshly washed linen. He continued to pet the back of her head, his fingers cold against her warm scalp, digging through the insulated warmth of her thick, long hair. Their kiss ended gradually as Laszlo lifted reluctantly away from her, lips parted and his jaw moving in the memory of their motions. He drew in a hungry breath, an open palm sliding over the delicate shape of ear and then across her jawline, each finger leaving a gentle path across her impossibly soft skin. His other arm hooked around her waist, feeling the contours of her body beneath her clothing. Dragging his lower lip across the barest outer curve of her forehead, he straightened again as his arm tightened around the girl. Resting his angular chin on the top of her head, he let go of a sigh, absorbing the feel of her in his arms. Feeling this way was so… intoxicating. He sought it often wherever he could find it: with Ambrose, with Siofra, and handful of others. It was a wonderfully overwhelming sensation, a pleasing distraction from his day-to-day, readily shared by others. It felt a little different with everyone, but this time, with this girl, it was… it wasn't the same as before. There was something else to it. "Sorry," he mumbled, his thumb caught in some endless pattern against the threadbare fabric of Abalia's shirt. Traces of relief swept through him in gratitude for that kiss, but he quietly yearned for more. Pulling his lips into his mouth, his tongue lathed against the flavor of her that lingered on them. "That… probably isn't what you need, right now. You just do something to me. I couldn't help it." What was he doing? He couldn't get involved with Abalia. It was just too complicated. Kissing the top of her head, Laszlo leaned away and cleared his throat. "I should… probably head inside. I still need to finish straightening up. The tavern opens in a few hours." Idiot, he chided himself. Turn her away, you fool. Laszlo placed his easy golden eyes on Abalia's young face. "Unless you need me for anything? I'm in no rush."

[Abalia]

Abalia did not expect to be kissed. Not in that moment, and not by the ethaefal who held her. Laszlo had seemed nonplussed by the affection she had shown him in either form, but never particularly moved by it. Given the context of the current conversation, she certainly did not believe he would segue into that. But he did, and soon enough he had swallowed her breath up in lips that were as perfect as the rest of him. Her small hands gripped at his chest as the world tilted beneath her, and the heat of his kiss sent fire through her veins, scorching all of the places that felt so cold and dead without Roxxie around. For the briefest moment a wave of guilt washed over her, reminding her that she was playing the harlot in the middle of the street while Roxxie was... well, who knew where she was. Gone. Gone. But those lips and that heat wouldn't allow her to remember. The pleasure of being held by Laszlo, adored by Laszlo, if only for the moment, raced through her slim frame like the most potent drug. It was utterly astounding, the way something as simple as his fingers in her hair sent delight the length of her spine, caused heat to coil in her very center, made her small hands grip with helpless vigor at the stability he offered. Her sweet voice gave way to a pretty little moan of complaint when he pulled away. She wasn't ready to relinquish him, not yet. It was complicated, kissing Laszlo. Abalia still did not trust him, but there were odd strings of emotional attachment forming here and there that she had yet to identify or name. And so this was anything but kissing a handsome stranger for the mere feel of it. The gentleness of his hand, cupping the back of her head, contrasted with the way he handled her at night and, somehow, with her lips still moist and warm from his kiss, she adored them both. In the absence of his kiss, the real world began to press in. That damned dog, pawing at the ground beside of her foot, whining for attention. The too-brilliant glimmer of Syna off of his curved horns, and the chill of loss, settling bone deep into her once again. Marked by the desperate urge to escape that unsettling feeling, Abalia rocked onto the tips of her toes once more and crashed her lips into his with a recklessness that robbed this kiss of the gentleness the one before it had possessed. Her small fingers wound into his hair, tugging lightly as she tottered to preserve her balance. A row of pearly whites parted and the human nipped at his lower lip. When those crimson gates parted, she laved the wound with the tip of pinkened tongue, and then lost herself in the heated perfection of his kiss again. It was like a dance, the sensual battle between parted lips. A give and take, a playful battle for supremacy that only left her flush to the very tips of her toes, positively breathless and burning for more. Abalia kissed him as if she were starving, and the sweet flavor of his tongue might be the only thing to preserve her. She kissed him until the little mewls of pleasure she made were hardly appropriate for the street, until she was so breathless that she felt faint. Then she depended upon those arms around her to keep her from falling, trusting him more than she'd ever care to admit, trusting him to catch her as she tumbled through this haze of more-than-lust that they'd somehow created between them. "Laz," she gasped against his chest as she sank down to stand on solid ground again, dropping her forehead to rest against his muscled frame. She couldn't look into those eyes yet, because if she saw half of what she felt in them she knew she'd be lost to him. Lost entirely. And while Laszlo looked different enough in the daytime, a whole new person, she knew who he was at night, too. And while the mere thought of those black nails scratching a beautiful red trail along her inner thighs was enough to make her tremble, she couldn't so readily forget the harm done by the one before him. Not to her body, but to her heart. And somehow, she knew Laszlo would be significant. More than a quick lay or a one-night stand. If she became his lover, she knew she'd lose a part of her heart to him. And she couldn't. Not yet. The beautiful ethaefal in whose arms she trembled, of course, couldn't possibly read all that into the way she breathed against his chest, the way her fingers clutched helplessly at his shirt. "No rush," she murmured, echoing his words, hoping they could be true in other ways, too.

[Laszlo]

Caught off guard, Laszlo staggered as he found himself pulled in again. Small, thin fingers twisted themselves in the fabric of his shirt, pressing a row of round, tightened knuckles into his chest. Before he could react, his lips were warmed by hers again, moving almost forcefully, showing a hunger in her that surprised him. Though first uttering a soft, brief noise of protest, Laszlo relented quickly and gave in, his eyes slipping closed again. Her teeth raked against his lower lip, followed by the wetness of her tongue, met readily with his own as he took in the taste of her, sweet, salty, and human. In another moment, he felt himself holding her thin waist between both broad hands, fingertips splaying against her soft, yielding torso. He held her body against his, preserving her balance and enjoying the way her shape interlocked so well with his. It felt… irresponsible to be holding her like this, kissing her as deeply as he was. Laszlo hadn't wanted things to go this way with Abalia, as they had for others. She was too deeply involved in affairs he couldn't be honest about This second kiss belonged to her, but he could have resisted, backed away and told her he couldn't. He still could, but Laszlo's conscience wasn't that strong. She wasn't the only one suffering. He needed this too. Laszlo felt a soft purr against his lips, so he tightened his arms and hummed something back at her, voicing his acceptance. There was something so desperate about the way she clutched at him, or the way her tongue lathed madly over his. Abalia was a woman genuinely hurting, aching to fill the void with something, even if Laszlo didn't completely understand what she wanted. He recognized himself in the way she seemed to need him, like Siofra had needed him, like he had needed Ambrose. How convenient for mortals that all their pain and suffering and anger could be expressed and appeased through this primal sharing of touch and intimacy, however temporary a reprieve it was. An arm trailed up her back and held her shoulders, embracing the woman in the middle of this sunny Alvadas street. Anyone could have been staring, or watching, and Laszlo remained aware of that, but no one could ever understand what was going on between them. Let them look, let them assume. Everyone in this world was so small minded. Even Abalia; she was just a human after all, although Laszlo was certain that her soul could shine so brightly. Spirit like hers was difficult to find. Finally he managed to break away, but he couldn't step back from her. Laszlo's forehead rested against hers while his golden eyes wandered down her body, one thumb stroking gentle circles over her shoulder. He took a moment to catch his breath, but even when he spoke, his voice was heavy and gasping. "Abalia… I…" He couldn't look into her large brown eyes from this angle, so he stared at the plump set of lips above her chin. "I shouldn't…"

[Abalia]

The way he said her name, as if they were lovers, as if that shared kiss had only been a mere glimmer of something much more between them, made her feel heated all over again. Abalia sighed, forcing herself to deny the sudden urge to arch up and kiss him. Again, and again, and again - until he changed his mind and swept her into those strong arms, until he carried her away from the dirty street and into his sanctuary - wherever that might be. Her frame, so feminine and soft as it pressed too eagerly against him, eager for the slightest friction of body against body, was aching for him to do just that. "And I can't," she echoed, forcing the fingers that held so desperately to his shirt to unfurl. She could see the perfect angles of his face, skewed from proximity, and she was having a difficult time remembering all the reasons she couldn't. It was all about Roxanne, who was still gone, even if she couldn't feel the ache just then. Sadness, perhaps, a detached sort of sorrow that she suspected would follow her for the rest of her life. But, in that moment, there was only the press of his fingers against her skin, the idle circles he traced. She couldn't breathe without tasting him, without wanting more. And so, as tragic as the separation was, she had to step back. To clear her voice softly, and to peek up at him with a steeled sort of resolve. Except that she didn't look resolved at all. Perhaps those brown eyes glimmered in determination, but her pretty cheeks were flush, her lips swollen in a pout from their kiss. Her hair was just a bit mussed where his hands had been buried in those silken locks, and she looked more fit for his bed than the street she stood in. "Ah..." Abalia, who scarcely ran out of things to say, found herself speechless. What did she say in the face of that? She struggled to remember what he had said prior, and latched onto the only thing that came to mind. "I could help." Having spoken the suggestion aloud, Abalia suddenly decided it was a very good one. She flashed a bright smile at him, one not to be denied, and reached out to curl her fingers around a few of his, where they'd fallen back to his side. "For a little while. Then I'll go find some food. That guy who works nights at the Stars is really crabby about food."

[Laszlo]

The cold, autumn air rushed in to replace the heat left by Abalia's slender body. Laszlo tensed in stiff disappointment, his arms slipping back to his sides as he relinquished the feeling of the girl who had shared that intimacy with him. He released a slow exhale, still tasting her as her faint scent lingered in his nose. The beat of his heart began to slow as Abalia admitted her mutual obligation to stop, though it still thudded so hard against his sternum that he was sure she'd noticed the folds of his shirt moving to the rhythm. Only it seized again as Abalia offered to help him clean up around the tavern. He couldn't possibly. Seven would not react well to seeing her in the off-hours of their home and business, and if Victor laid eyes on her… Laszlo didn't even want to know what he'd say. Though he'd be glad for the company, he would have to turn her away. The flesh of his hands quickly cooling now that they had left the curve of Abalia's form, he slipped both of them into his pockets. The folds of his coat wrinkled behind his arms as he rocked back on his feet, taking another easy step back to fortify the distance between them, turning intimate into casual. "Yeah, we uh… we can't even afford a cook, let alone food. Sorry." Laszlo's eyes wandered safely to the tavern, too worried about what his two companions would think if they saw Abalia. He couldn't look into her eyes and maintain a modicum of honesty. "And I appreciate the offer, but that same guy gets pretty crabby about letting people in before hours. Maybe another time?" Turning away, Laszlo stooped over to pick up the empty pail, which swung briefly in his grip, carrying the weight of the wet towel. Bits of dust and gravel fell from the damp underside of the object, as well as several stray droplets of water, which disappeared into the sandy earth. Laszlo looked down at the bucket for a brief moment before finally bringing his golden eyes back to Abalia's. A light, warm smile graced his lips as he hesitated. He wished she didn't look so innocent. Then again, maybe she wasn't. "I don't trust you," she kept telling him. If Laszlo were truly innocent, he might have asked why. Maybe she knew he was involved. Maybe she never trusted anyone accept Roxanne. This was Alvadas, who could trust anything? Suddenly Laszlo realized how she must have felt. Abalia was a native Alvad; she'd learned never to trust anything, not even the walls around her or the ground under her feet. She was never alone, because she praised Ionu, and the city around her was alive. If Roxanne was the only person, the only thing she could trust… then she really did have nothing else. That kiss, her desperate need for him as her tongue had wrestled with his… The gods were cruel to her. "You can come back tonight, or tomorrow, or… anytime, I suppose." He slipped his second hand from his pocket, reaching forward and brushing his soft thumb over her tender cheek. For a short while, his eyes lingered on her bruise. It was caused by that same hand. "Or maybe just tomorrow. At night I’m bound to be… bound to lose my temper again. It's a seasonal thing. It'll pass in a few days." His arm returned to his side. "Either way, I'd like to see you again. Even if you don't trust me. I don't trust you either." Laszlo turned away again to head back toward the tavern, but after the first step, he paused, twisted on his heel, and began walking backward so he could still face her. "I'm here, Abalia, if you ever need anything. Maybe I don't know much, but I can listen if you just want to talk." He couldn't allow her to be alone, not after he'd seen Roxanne give her last breath. "I'm not going anywhere."

[Abalia]

Abalia's pretty smile fell, just a little, at the rejection. He had a silver tongue, though, and managed to craft his words in such a way that the human wasn't overly offended. In fact, when he warned her about the return of his temper, she had to bite back a smile. She didn't bother to explain to him that she wasn't put off by his excessive emotional volatility. It was part and parcel with loving a Symenestra. Of course, she didn't love Laszlo, but the concept was the same. Why was it the same? He wasn't Dolvich, she didn't trust him, and she had no business enjoying those irate attentions. But this wasn't the time to evaluate all of that, and so Abalia merely canted her head into that soft touch. Laszlo was plenty pleasant in the daytime. It was almost confusing, trying to assimilate these two men into one. Wide brown eyes darted up to his when he proclaimed his distrust for her. That might have unsettled anyone else, but Abalia seemed both amused and pleased by the confession. It meant that he was like minded, and perhaps he'd never fully understand how it felt to live the whole of one's life inside a city of madness, but this was a step in the right direction. She realized, with a striking clarity, that she liked this Laszlo. His parting words were sweet promises she couldn't afford to count on, but in the present state of mind, they were like balm. Soothing, comforting, and real. She had nothing to say in response, and so she merely fixed him with a smile. When he returned it, her heart fluttered, and she felt ridiculous for having allowed herself to dig so deep into this. She dipped her head with a blush he'd likely not see, and then turned away just as he reached the door of the tavern. And that damned dog followed.

[Mirage]

The Truth Within the Reality Laszlo : XP Awarded Hypnosis:1 Philosophy: 2 Rhetoric: 2 Seduction: 1 Storytelling: 1 Lores Awarded Abalia, Worshiper of Ionu Sealed with a Kiss Words Through Visions Abalia : XP Awarded Interrogation: 1 Persuasion: 2 Seduction: 2 Lores Awarded Laszlo, Child of Syna Laszlo, Night and Day Sealed with a Kiss What an Ethaefal is The Truth Hidden by a Mirage : Once again, beautifully written! I was on the edge of my seat wondering what would happen, and I am sad I did not start it sooner! Lol needless to say I love both of your styles of writing, and I have not seen a peer in the romance department yet! Keep them coming, I can't get enough .