Closed A Complex Reunion

[Matthew]

69th of Summer, 513AV This wasn't supposed to be how it went. He hadn't come here with this plan in mind. Why was he so bent on taking what was his? No, no, not what was his. Yes, she was his. She would be. She would burn along with him, both of their very souls becoming one in the inferno that they would ignite. She would be nothing without what he would give, when he was through. She would be rebuilt by his fire. He had awoken that morning with gasping breath, his glistening figure shooting up from the comfort of his bed. Wild eyes darted about, and he ran a shaky hand over his handsome features, blue eyes blazing. Why had the nightmare repeated itself today? Why wouldn't she leave him alone? ------------------------- Matthew and Alder existed in an odd silence. Dozens of days had passed, and still, Matthew could feel this sort of tension in the air at his very presence. He was never told to leave, but then again, he was never really told anything by Alder. The man would associate with patients and other people quite easily, a calm and professional man who seemed to have a silent air of friendliness about him. He was mature, wise in his craft, and Matthew could tell that there was much to learn. If he had been allowed to learn. Instead, every time he came, he was given a different thing to clean or organize. Something to sort or sweep. Somes it was Alder silently handling him a sponge and pointing ou a nearby dirty surface. Sometimes it was the woman, a name that escaped Matthew, handling him a mop with a wide smile and happily detailing exactly where she wanted him to clean. She had even had him help keep an eye on the two boys at one point, while she left them outside the doorway to Alder's business. Matthew still wasn't sure how he felt about that. Even with a wall and door between him and the man, he could still feel hands wrapping around his throat. He truly didn't understand it. He had done nothing, dressed well, kept to himself, and came at a certain chime every couple of days. He was like clockwork. He didn't even speak. Why was he instantly on the bad side of the man? Any friendly attempts at conversation had been met with grunts or silence. Sometimes Matthew saw a look in Alder's eyes. Sometimes he saw that the man wasn't particularly mad at him directly, simply... mad. Frustrated. Tormented. Every so often he opened his mouth as if to say something, and then turned away, shaking his head. That had all changed only about a week ago. A little more, perhaps. Matthew had come in to clean, and Alder had a different light around his eyes. A peace had settled around him. He greeted Matthew for the first time. He hadn't really attempted conversation since then, but the change was still there. It was as if someone had torn shackles from his body and set him free. "You are going to be helping my assistant today." Matthew froze, blue eyes briefly widening in the only display of emotion he had ever shown to Alder. He paused his current task; sweeping, and stared at the wall. Stealing a quick glance at the man, he could swear he saw a ghost of a smile on the corner of his lips. The harlot mulled his next words carefully, not so sure what he should do. Curiousity was blazing inside of him, but there was something inside of him that was... afraid. He wasn't sure why. There was something wrong about this day. Something wrong about this place, something wrong about Alder, something simply... wrong. He wasn't even bothered by the idea that an assistant had been chosen besides him. The thought didn't occur to him. He was too confused. "I didn't think you wanted an assis-" "Another." Alder quietly corrected him, matching blue eyes focusing on Matthew's stare. "I never wanted another." Matthew stared a bit longer, teeth tugging gently at his lower lip. After a bit, he slowly nodded, offering silent acceptance of whatever Alder was going to ask. "I just need a few herbs collected. Nothing special, just a few easily identifiable ones near the hot springs just outside the walls. She has recently made a long journey here, and I still don't feel she is up to the task alone. Normally I would go myself, but the patient load has become rather large of late. She'll be here within a few bells, if you can stick around." So, Matthew kept himself busy. If anything, he was simply wondering who in the world this assistant could be. Why was Alder so attached? Was she the reason his mood had lightened? Was she also the reason he didn't want any other apprentices, and had been so opposed to Matthew's presence? The harlot kept to himself, and just quietly cleaned. He was dressed as nicely as always, with a button-up white shirt and a black vest that snugly hugged his detailed definition, and a black pair of slacks with shined shoes. An amusing addition was the white and pink apron that Alder's wife had been so kind to loan to him. While it was goofy to some, Matthew's practical mind appreciated the gesture. It kept the dirt he was brushing and sweeping from getting up onto his clothes. He was quite proud of the work he did here. He personally thought the shop looked pristine every time he finished. If only Alder could keep it that way. The bells passed, and Matthew found himself repeatedly glancing towards the door. A strange feeling had settled into his stomach. What was even worse was that he felt like he knew the person was about to arrive. Without even using his magic, he could feel it. That scared him.

[Litani]

I follow the winds that bring the cold... I light a fire in your soul... The lightest touch of feathers falling; my love may be invisible but I inspire the dreams that guide you... You're half a world away but in my mind I whisper every single word you say. Before you sleep at night... you pray to me, your lucky star, your singing satellite... -------------- Her King was with her again that night. He was with her... she felt those beautiful hands, perfect in their every detail, felt those eyes track her every movement... She was his as he had made her, his Queen and the ruler of all his passion, the slave who satisfied him, the lover who adored him... The lustful creature who gave herself up to the needs of the harlot. In the chaotic beauty of the dream, in the primal shadows of unconsciousness, she was nothing if not remade. She woke with a restless sigh, with a twisting need that demanded sating. She woke with the scent of her sweat, with her lower lip caught between her teeth, with her hair tangled about her pillow and her long legs tangled with the sheets... hadn't they been tangled with him...? She woke with a fiercely feminine growl that morphed, slowly, into a low-throated laugh. Gods... Matthew... even after all this time? ...Gods. She ran her hands through her hair and briefly debated greeting this dream's waking the way she'd greeted all the rest - every few seasons or so, he'd come to her, and every few seasons the scene was the same... They'd met for their last time, their words danced in the air between them, their bodies following soon after. And every time, she saw that unflinching lust in his eyes, that pure and raw need that reminded her of all the things she'd sworn so long ago... Nothing less. Never. I swear it...! Today, she woke wondering about him, letting her hands lazily explore her body but she found that her mind was more active than the flesh - not that she didn't yearn, not that she didn't crave, but... somehow... she decided to let the feeling linger, unsated, let it inform her thoughts and simmer in her blood as she went about her morning's tasks. Who knows... if she waited until the evening, perhaps she could summon him back again in her dreams for a second night. It had never happened before but... perhaps. -------------- "Alder...? ALDER!" Her voice rang out clear and true, laughing, calling across the shop as the clattering, creaking door opened to admit her willowy form - she was carrying a basket bearing that day's produce from the market and she wore a dark-colored sundress and a wide-brimmed hat, the sort that kept the sun off a gardener... or off a Konti who'd just been healing from a sunburn on the Sea of Grass. Litani palmed the hat off and shook her hair free, laughing, calling again, "Alder, you wouldn't believe what that hag Petryk has her patient's doing..! I spoke with Meriana today and she..." Her eyes looked around for him, found him, locked onto him with a smile and she took a breath to share with him her exploits, to tell him what that Petryk bitch had been up to a few blocks over - their mutual disgust in the local philteress, as she called herself, was informing a conspiratorial glint in her eyes and then... then everything stopped. A dark figure caught the corner of Litani's lively eyes and she slid her gaze over to Matthew. At first, she only twitched a blink and stared at him, her expression of a smile frozen but slowly fading to shock. Utter, complete shock. Her eyes grew as wide as saucers and she blinked again, trying to right them, glancing then at Alder. And then she realized. Their eyes. Their eyes. Laviku's mercy... She simply had no notion of which identical sea to drown herself in first. Their eyes matched perfectly. How had she never seen it before...?! But it had been eight years since she'd seen Matthew, he'd been younger then - but how does he look the same...! I saw him last night, he looked... Broken thoughts scattered around her on the floor and she glanced about restlessly, as if somehow she could pick one up and put it together again and somehow make sense of it. Matthew was here. Here, in her home, in her shop, with her mentor. ...perhaps one day Fate will be kind... Or perhaps Fate had a terrible sense of humor, indeed. Litani looked back up at them both, fear informing the backs of her eyes just for a moment. Fear, desire, memories she'd thought long dead and the hopelessness of longing all played inside the sky of her irises, vying for dominance and unable to reach a consensus. She'd thought herself at peace, accepting what she could not have in the life she'd chosen, accepting that her 'student' was only ever going to be a memory, accepting that the love of her mentor would be a distantly burning star she could look to when the night grew dark but... nothing more. Ever. And that fire she'd burned inside, scorched with her King beside her...? A dream. It wasn't real! And yet there he stood. Oh bleeding hells. Bleeding petching hells... A stuttering smile climbed onto her lips, tried to make the two most precious men in her mind believe it. It probably failed, but she tried nonetheless, and after a moment it almost became natural. Almost. ...but not really. She looked first to Alder. "...what's he doing here?" she whispered to him softly, trying to keep her tight voice from carrying across the room even as her stare returned to the beautiful, hypnotic eyes of her long-lost King. It wasn't REAL, she reminded herself harshly. It did nothing to shake her gaze from him. To Alder, she whispered again, "What's he doing here?" Then, a thought occurred to her and her eyes jumped back to him, her mentor. Matthew was clearly no patient, his body posture was too familiar with his surroundings... he was dressed, he held a broom in his hands. And Litani's mind suddenly reminded her of all the subtle ways in which their shared laboratory had managed to right itself, as if by magic. All the times things had been replenished, returned to their places, restored to order. She'd always had to do that before and had assumed, naively, that her return had somehow inspired a more conscientious eye in her mentor. Well of course not, idiot. Some things never change. Her brows furrowed and she suddenly slammed a steel cage around herself, her emotions, her voice. The sound was emotionless as she murmured quietly, "You said... you didn't take another." She fell silent then, watching Alder's eyes but painfully, primally aware of the other pair of blues across the room. A crawling, writhing part of her couldn't wait to look back at him again, but a corner of her heart needed her answer first.

[Matthew]

The voice that approached was painfully familar. He couldn't quite place it, but he remembered it. From some dark and forbidden corner of his mind, from someplace that made his stomach twist with a sense of danger and fear. That voice haunted him, and for a second, he was afraid to turn around. Matthew soon realized that was a silly feeling. It was a voice he couldn't even put a face to. How terrifying could it be if he had forgotten it? His head turned and he was met with Litani. His eyes briefly widened, the second display of utter shock today. He hadn't forgotten that face. He had chose to lock it away. Her image threatened the doors that he had put up in his mind. She was like a key to a few of them, and now the Konti was dancing around inside his head, attempting to shove the key in one of the many locks and throw the doors wide open. He refused to let her, his jaw clenching, eyes unable to rip away from hers. Even as she glanced around, he stayed completely focused, almost afraid to look away. That unsettling feeling in his stomach was churning wildly, and he felt that if he glanced away, that would break something. That would shatter the shock that was still in his mind, that was keeping everything in one piece. The woman in front of him terrified him. Deep inside, she completely and utterly horrified him. She had been capable of so much. Too much. She had been a defining moment in his growth as a harlot, and had done in as a professional teacher of anatomy. That was all that had happened in that library back in Zeltiva. Then she had left, a single note pinned to her door for him. He had moved on. He had missed her as a teacher, but beyond that? Strictly professional. He made sure not to ever let anything become more than that when it came to his line of work. But she had been able to get too deep. Even if she hadn't done a petching thing outside of her teaching, she had somehow infested him. King and Queen clashed, writhing bodies as one. Apart, they were incomplete. Together, they were remade. The thought came rushing to his mind, and fire was added to the sickness in his stomach. Somehow feeling that it was her fault, he very nearly reverted back to a very basic thing, his lip briefly curling in a snarl. Quickly catching himself, he froze, un-trusting of his expressions and emotions. He stood as still as a statue, quietly staring, but he was filled with desperation inside. Desperation to escape everything that she was making him feel. With yet another clench of his jaw, he escaped away, tilting his head back a little and running to the only place that he could hide. His own mind. His eyes closed, and he let out a breath, seeking the ice. The flames raged around his island, mocking him among a sea of calm. They refused to be sated, screaming to overtake him. They were warm and loving, wild and lustful, needy and dependent, all at once. They flickered and blazed, surrounding the place where he sheltered himself, threatening to take over the place he had separated from all emotion. Matthew stood in the middle of it, blue eyes flickering back and forth, slowly turning as he took in the fire. He rose a hand slowly, reminding himself that this was his domain. This was his body. He was the one who was in control here. The fires laughed at him, reminding him of the dreams. He shouted back, eyes glittering brightly. "I have changed!" They chuckled at him, mocking him. The dreams involved you changing too, they said. He growled, snarling at their teasing. "I was a boy. My body and mind had more control. Now? I control you." With a wave of his hand the flames flooded backwards, instantly put under calculated control.[i] When the crystal eyes re-opened, they were once again apathetic. He appeared as composed as he had been on their meeting so many nights ago, if not more-so. His clothing was nicer, his skin was clearer, his features more pronounced with age. His body had developed, his voice had deepened. Little did he know how intimately aware of all these changes she was. Little did his controlled mind know how aware of her [i]he was. Now that he was focused though, now that he was thinking clearly, it all made sense. He didn't offer an answer to the questions that were pointed at Alder, but he listened to them closely, adding them to the puzzle that was getting pieced together in his mind. Litani was the assistant Alder had once had. That was why his wife had spoke of his former assistant in that tone. That was why Litani appeared to be so hurt, even if she thought she was hiding it. The very act of putting on an emotionless show was a clear sign that something was wrong, for the woman he remembered to be so very expressive. His eyes flicked back and forth between them, a relief coming over him as he figured out what was going on. He hated puzzles that remained unsolved. He glanced to Alder, realizing he hadn't responded, and noticed that the man was struggling to bring words to his lips. He hadn't thought Litani would assume what Matthew was. He himself hadn't realized how much of an actual assistant Matthew looked like. "He didn't." Matthew's voice broke the silence, words slow and carefully pronounced. It was a habit of his. He wasn't making sure they heard, he was instead making sure his words were said properly. "I am allowed to touch a broom, a mop and bucket, and dirty surfaces. And I have to wear an apron. I believe instead of an assistant, he took an unpaid maid." Raising an eyebrow at Alder, Matthew turned his slim and toned body gracefully, returning his outward focus to the pile of dust he had been gathering from the floor. He continued to sweep, forcing his voice to remain casual, putting all the weight of how to handle this on her. He couldn't tell if she was just shocked to see him, or if there was something else. Testing, he worded another sentence, stealing a glance. "Alder was just telling me I am supposed to help you pick some herbs near the hot springs outside the city walls."

[Litani]

She wanted to laugh. To weep. To shake the dreams from her hair and rise from their fire a phoenix reborn, unfettered by childish fantasy and blood-born lust so clearly felt... But none of those things would be hers. Alder nodded softly to Matthew's words and replied to Litani in a gentle tone, not quite a whisper, "He's not your replacement, Lit... he's just here to help. That's all. No one replaces you. You know that." Mentor and student shared, then, a deep stare that showed altogether too clearly how sincerely they hurt without one another. Nothing was voiced, nothing was said, but Alder set a gentle hand on her shoulder. A touch he rarely braved, knowing her Gift all too well. He was letting her read him, letting her feel his lack of bodily deceit. She nodded slightly to him and the touch dropped away. She believed him. And then there was Matthew. Litani's eyes flicked over the distance to him and she caught herself taking a step closer, pulled by instinct. Her eyes shut. She forced herself to center. I am here, now... those were dreams, they were... ....but I cannot, he is... NO. They were dreams! They weren't real! ...but my... No! Desperation tinged her eyes when she opened them again and, just for an instant, the harlot could glimpse the way his Queen had looked back at him over her shoulder as he took her, wanting him so deeply, giving herself up to his satisfaction... Litani blinked, banishing the thought, catching her lower lip between her teeth and biting hard, using the pain to center her mind - but then that had passed between them too, hadn't it? Her mind was all in pieces, scattered, unable to be centered despite her prayers and her mantras. There he was. She wanted nothing less than to cross the room to him and capture his kiss, to feel him the way that only her Gift could feel... but, at once, she was afraid. What if he didn't feel as he did, in that dream...? What if she touched him and he was only that distant student, not her King at all but only that harlot, only that creature made to serve others... not her? She had no promise that he shared that fantasy she'd so vividly lived. She had no promise, even, that he'd received her letter all those years ago... She had nothing. Only hope, only the memory of phantoms, only the whisper of dreams unrealized. She had only the faint awareness of the scale so hidden... Unconsciously, a hand strayed there, unthinking, wanting only to salve the pulsing awareness that suddenly flooded her mind - that scale he'd marked, that scale she'd bled for him. The vows she'd spoken for him, vows he knew nothing of. With her hand gracing that suddenly tender spot, she murmured softly to Matthew, "Shall we, then...?" Mechanically, she transferred the contents of her basket to the nearest table, her eyes never leaving Matthew's. It would be needed if they were to collect anything and that was all the farther she'd gotten - his words. His words, and what it would take to make them possible. It was a DREAM. ....many dreams.... but a DREAM all the same! He's not yours, you're not his! She swallowed delicately, wrestling with the inner monologue that so unforgivingly berated her. He told you what he wanted to be... whatever you made him in your fantasies, that's yours, that's his job.... No... no! It was something else, I know it was!! ... no... nonono I need it... His voice came back to her; how many times had she heard it over these years, begging for her, Litani... More Litani!... And yet there he was. Calm. Dispassionate. Gazing at her calmly. I need to touch him. Then I'll know... Waiting for her response. She gazed back, struck with the reality of him, unable to tear her eyes away even for a single second. The whites of her eyes shone with possibility; perhaps their explorations of each other, after all this time, could give her something... perhaps. Whatever it was, if anything at all, they needed to be gone from Alder's presence... And her mentor sensed it as well. Uncharacteristically, he excused himself into the house proper, sensing somehow that the pair knew each other from lifetimes before... Little did he know of just how carnal those lifetimes had been. Little did he know just how fast the blood of his student ran. Little did he know just what informed the intensity with which Litani stared into Matthew's depthless, beautiful eyes.

[Matthew]

His words had the desired effect, and Alder went into motion. Matthew watched their interaction carefully, using as an example to the solution he had found to this particular puzzle. The gentle tone, the deep stare, the touch of her shoulder, the slow nod. Everything was just slightly intimate, signaling a deeper emotional connection than normal. A connection that a married man would not usually have with a simple apprentice. Soon though, her eyes returned to his, and she stepped toward him. He actually stepped back, just the slightest retreat, drawing a curious glance from the wise Alder. It was like a war within his mind. The flames would flicker back up, and along with the heat would come images. Images from a time long ago, where he had not been able to seperate business from pleasure, if only for a few brief seconds here and then. Images from his life since then, where his mind had continued to plague him with nightmares of something he both wanted and desperately hated all at the same time. He didn't know why he was different from all the others. He didn't know why he hated not being in control, why he was scared of something as simple and normal as emotion. To the harlot, emotion was a thing that swept him away, that took him and strung him along like a puppet. A rushing river, with him tossed helplessly about. All those images reminded him of that fear. Threatened him with it. Threatened to sweep him along and make them move to their whim. His blue eyes grew harder, if even possible, the result of the man blocking himself off even further. Litani didn't miss a beat at his question, murmuring a quick answer, her eyes still locked on him. He actually felt himself about to squirm under her gaze, but caught his body before it let out the tell. He glanced blue eyes over to Alder, as if asking for help, but the man was too in tune with Litani. That much had been obvious. He was already leaving, having excused himself sometime during the moments that Matthew was wrestling with his own mind. The harlot swallowed, blue eyes forced back to Litani as she approached slowly. He wasn't about to run away. That would be an obvious sign that something was wrong. Instead, he offered her a small and polite smile, turning to open the door and offer her a path out. He was on alert the whole time, keeping an eye out for any movements of hers that would involve bare skin against bare skin. If she did try something casual, she would find that Matthew was oddly good at barely edging out of her reach. Soon, they were out in the streets of the castle city, quietly moving through the crowds on their way out to the springs. Matthew hadn't even thought of asking what exactly the herbs would look like. Litani would probably know. He had almost completely forgotten about the task at all, really. He was too focused on plotting a way to keep this meeting like every other meeting he had. Calm and composed, professional and elegant. Perhaps he should even offer her a business card. No, that was a bad idea. But now he was being too quiet. They were walking, and the silence was deafening. He had to break that. Silence was un-natural. Especially between them. Everything had been normal right before she left. He had to act like that. But then, there was the letter... a dream, right at the same time he had dreamed? He didn't need to think about possibilities. That fanned the frames, threatened the walls. As he gracefully moved alongside her, he made sure to keep a small amount of distance between them. He spoke, voice soft, body slightly rigid and gaze guarded as they went on their little journey. "How have you been? I heard a little word of everything that happened. I was sad to see you go, and sad to hear why. You seemed to have grown up quite nicely though. Have you found your way in Syliras?" The words were casual, the tone polite, the eyes closed. That, and he was avoiding her touch. All little subtle things, things that she hopefully wouldn't notice until he had figured out an alternative way. He was painfully unaware of all that was happening around them. People, places, things, they were all so very distant to him right now. All there was at the moment was the Konti, and the whirlwind of possible changes she brought to his painstakingly constructed outer self.

[Litani]

She knew what she was looking at. Or at least, she thought she did. Matthew was strung tight as a harp beside her as they walked, leaving the shelter of the city and sliding through the afternoon shadows of the Bronze Woods. Their steps lead them towards the spring as Alder had directed; yes, she knew what he wanted, but right now nothing mattered beyond the haunting figure that walked at her side. Her every sense was excruciatingly aware of him - the way he moved, the way his clothes sounded against his skin, the way his voice held itself guarded and too-casual and friendly... The way he held himself absolutely away from her. He remembers. In the back of her mind, a sour smile expressed itself, kept itself clear of her countenance. Of course he remembered. What man would leave himself vulnerable to a woman once she'd told him she could tell the truth of his body as soon as she touched him...? Yet again, the curse of her birthright rushed upon her and she sighed faintly, hoping that he took the exhale of breath as nothing more than the simple exertion of their walk together. She'd been healing nicely. In truth, had she known Alder's words about her needing an escort still, she'd've bristled - she rode her length of the Sea of Grass with a headstrong stubbornness that had born itself out in weals of the flesh and blisters so deep they'd hobbled her for a week... but now, now she was stronger. Now, she walked without that limp, without that damned cane she'd carried for the first few days. Now, she was herself again. Or so she thought. His words met her ears with a tender movement of her throat - she was swallowing desire and tension, shoving down the memories of the dream that morning -- How had he come that day...?! And why did he look so damn similar to... oh Gods shutupshutup, stop, it was only a dream! Glancing sidelong up at Matthew, Litani's blue eyes stole the most daring glimmer of piercing into him as she heard him, heard his question, ignored it, murmured softly, "How did you come here, Matthew...?" Her voice, when she said his name, could easily echo inside his mind with all the times she'd screamed it in their dreams together... the barest breath behind it was drawn out, the faintest exhale of words whispered desire. Only a little. Only enough to notice if he remembered. "You had a path set before you in Zeltiva..." She trailed off then, unwilling to ask him or herself if he'd continued on that path he'd expressed to her. Part of her truly did not want to know. If her King had ruled another... she did not want to know. She fleetingly acknowledged the selfishness of that sentiment and shoved it aside roughly - he was a harlot, he'd told her so when they'd met and all they'd shared were their lessons... where she taught him how to take her apart... and their dreams. Their dreams, which she only knew for herself as a singular expression of what she'd so passionately desired. He was a harlot. Of course he'd pleased another. ....he'd pleased another. But had he ruled another...? Litani took a deep breath, inhaling the steadying air through her nose until it filled her lungs and raised her breasts faintly on her chest. She had to know. It was killing her not to know. "Did you receive my letter...?"

[Matthew]

Oh, he definitely remembered. Back then, he had thought that it was a blessing of a skill to have. He had marveled at the way it could help with medicine, the way it could help with his training, and the way it would help her if she had ever decided to become a prostitute. He had even indirectly told her that she would make a good one, which she had seemed pleased with. But now, he was painfully aware of how potentially evil an ability like that could be. He prided himself on hiding his emotions, on hiding was his own body wanted, on muting it until he could ignore it. He didn't have the ability to completely cut off emotion and want, though. His body still expressed it, and he merely masked it. She was different though. She could brush against him and instantly blow through all of the walls he had managed to put up in the seven or eight years they hadn't seen each other. While they walked, he was desperately trying to put up more walls inside of himself, but how effective would they really be? He couldn't force his body to say something. For the first time in a long while, he felt exposed. He was still scared. Scared of her. Was that really fair? She had helped him so much in the past, and had done it for free. She had helped him to become who he was now. He would be lying if he claimed that he hadn't used knowledge from some of the dreams. Randomly, his eyes tugged to her hat. He liked the hat. He needed a nice hat. He appreciated the sun dress too, but for different reasons. Stop. She ignored his question to ask one of his own, and his blue eyes sharply turned to glance at hers, wondering if he should be frustrated. She obviously had an agenda in mind, here. He did notice the briefest whisper of desire in her words. Remembered it, to be precise. His mind danced with the reason why. For him, for what he had become, it was easy to find the sense of lust in things. Usually though, there was a reason behind it. From what he could tell, there couldn't be any reason behind this one besides memories. But memories of what, exactly? Had her dreams been the same sort of dreams that he had? Had her lessons effected her much deeply than she had let on? Or was she simply attracted to what he had grown up to be? He answered slowly, his words as firm and articulate as always. "I was too known in Zeltiva. Too attached to a name that everyone knew. Eventually, my parents found out what I was up to. Many things transpired, but in the end, I left to simply save them the trouble. Syliras was safer, anyways. The protection of the Knights, and a brothel of sorts had just recently opened after the Djed Storms. It was an ideal place to pursue my craft." He spoke honestly. He never considered how anyone else would look upon his profession. He had long since engrained a mindset into himself that saw selling his body on the same level as just selling anything else. In the most depressing terms, he valued his skin the way a farmer would value prized livestock. Perhaps that wasn't a good thing. Time would tell. It was the way he handled things for now. He valued being emotionally unattached from what he did to himself and how he went about his profession, and for all of his logic and intellect, hadn't considered what that could possibly mean in the future. Her final question caught his breath, but he swallowed it just as quickly. Even if she was reading him, Matthew hadn't yet noticed. He thought his charade was foolproof. He had managed to craft a seductive persona that people paid him coin for. It couldn't be that hard to adjust that persona and make it an unreadable mask, could it? He continued on, considering his answer, before giving a painfully simple one. "I did. I appreciate you leaving me notice, and your encouraging words even in a time of personal strife." The bubbling of the hot springs reached his ears, and they were soon upon it. He stared upon the warm crystal-clear waters, tilting his head. He came here quite often. It was soothing for his worn body, and helped ease away the aches that people submitted him to on a day to day basis. Noting his reflection in it, he focused, pushed to being inventive. Focusing upon his own eyes, he let magic swirl from his veins, Djed taking him over by instinct. His aura constricted, stroking around his skin, and he used the magic reflecting in his gaze to send calming suggestions to himself. Even a few words. Calm down. He took a breath, feeling a drowsy sort of peace briefly wash over him. He calmed from his torment, if only for a moment. No doubt she would do her best to destroy that, perhaps without even knowing it. Did she know it? He forced himself not to snarl, glancing from the water to her, changing the subject like she probably would predict. "Which herbs are we looking for? How do we pick them? Do I just pull them out of the ground? And why is it you need an escort? Are you injured?" Briefly, he ran his eyes over her, but a flush of his cheeks quickly caused his gaze to dart back up to her own. He was painfully familiar with her body. How could he be that aware of it after so many years?

[Litani]

She never thought to see him again. She’d had chalked up her dreams to a delirious fantasy, a consequence of having gone so long without a lover. Yet here he was, right before her eyes, the one person who so deeply touched her that she still carried the scar... Only a handful of days before, the Konti learned that she could dream true. She’d met the man and learned that it was shared between them. It had been a simple experience, a herald of her crossing the Sea of Grass to return to Syliras, but it had been true. And now the face that showed itself over and over, throughout years, had materialized from a dream to walk beside her. The possibility, however remote, that he might have some memory, that it might’ve been true between them... made her faintly dizzy to consider. Yet it was a thought which she latched onto, one she was unable to shake or ignore. How could she? As soon ignore the need to breathe. The tight, dry, burning void between them felt so palatable that it almost hurt, almost made her cringe. If she would let them, if she looked at him, she knew her eyes would plainly show him the depth of what she felt - shock, curiosity, shimmering threads of desire, loneliness - and show him how vividly she'd dreamt of him the night before, echoing how much she longed to touch him, to find out...! She knew this, knew her weakness, grabbed hold of herself and drug her stare to the path ahead of them. Sidelong, her countenance would only appear thoughtful. Deeply, tensely thoughtful. He doesn't want you. He'll never want you... he may never want, at all. Let it go. But it wasn't true. Everything that made her who she was cried out in every fiber of muscle, every vein, every sinew, all clamoring to say that it wasn't true. Maybe she was just deluding herself, maybe she was lingering too long in the haze of the kind of powerful dream that stays with you all day... maybe it was just happenstance that he appeared today. But some part of her refused to believe that. He did want, she'd felt it, and she struggled mightily to separate what she knew in the dream from what she was walking next to - not a King, not hers, just a prostitute she used to know, someone who used her for her knowledge, who used to touch her when they were alone together, learning all her sensitive points until she-- Stop. Reluctantly, her mind obeyed, unable to adequately process what she was feeling while still walking sensibly, and it shut down the train of thought that threatened to jump its tracks and bury itself in the earth between them. But her body shuddered in denial, oscillating between a fiery sense of need and a heart-twisting taste of grief, refusing to center on one or the other for fear she might be wrong either way. Her damned sense of hope, her childish wish to see the silver in the clouds kept a corner of her mind beating with light even as she shored herself up against the terrible possibility of being utterly disappointed. She heard him give reasons for why he was here, nodded faintly, said nothing. If a small part of her winced inside, then all the outward show it made was the tiny bite at her lower lip as she pressed them together - she knew what he was. She kept reminding herself what he was. Somehow, it wasn’t helping. His remark about the letter caught her vaguely off-guard; notice, encouragement? A simple thanks? Well, what did you expect? That he’d understand why you wrote it? That he’d really understand? He has no idea... why should he? The dream wasn’t real. It wasn’t real then, it wasn’t real last night. He doesn’t feel anything for you. ...where is that charming student, then, if he doesn't feel anything...? Is he hiding? Why? Her mind circled itself around that thought and she raised her eyes back to him again, looking at the whole length of him - from feet to chest to the black curls that wandered his brow - and everything inbetween. She was trying to read him, but it had been so long! So long, and without the conduit of touch to guide her, she may as well have been fumbling blindly in the dark. Still... her eyes could learn him again, even if her Gift could not. Yet. Distantly, she wondered something... but he was waiting for her reply. And the silence between them was becoming too awful to bear. She took a deep, slow breath. "I have... been," she said softly, answering his question from a moment before. As she started to talk, she kept her contralto voice low and steady, a different sort of sound from the young medical student whom he had met nearly a decade before. She had been a youthful creature then, and now was a woman grown. Something about her Konti heritage held its agelessness, however, and in truth, she didn't look that much different from the last time he'd seen her. Her posture, though, and the way in which she carried herself was informed with a small note of confidence that hadn't been there before. Underneath, she still felt vulnerable, but she was no longer fragile. She'd survived. "Before I came to Zeltiva, I lived in Syliras." With a brief pause, she cast a small smirk in Matthew's direction as they neared the spring. "I met Alder when I was a little girl... he taught me then, as he teaches me now. He was the one I came back to when I left Zeltiva all those years ago.” A gentle chuckle graced her words as they passed into the tree line and she reached up with one hand, taking off the obligatory sun hat that her mentor had inflicted upon her. As she revealed herself in the light of day, it became obvious that her porcelain pallor was no longer white - contrasting elegantly against the iridescence of her scales, her flesh had been bronzed by long, recent hours in the sun. The scales themselves had peeled back a few days before but were now healing quite well, looking only the faintest bit tender from their ordeal. A webbed hand ran itself through the wild strands and half-curls, wanting to shake them out but deciding against it at the last moment. She glanced at him again. “After what happened with my mother, my father asked me to come to Riverfall but... like a fool, I ignored him.” A thin smile slid over her lips, sad. Only the ghost of it touched her eyes. “I wanted to follow my own path... like we all do, I suppose.” With this, she fell quiet for a few moments, watching him gaze down into the water and listening to his sudden barrage of questions. Inside, she grinned faintly, wondering what he saw when his eyes stared back at him. Aloud, however, she started by answering the first question first and then moving down the line. “We are looking for burdock, lavender, nettle and Iskiny. I will teach you. Sometimes, but only if the whole plant is needed. Otherwise, we leave enough of it to grow back...” His last two questions gave her a moment’s pause and she slid the sun hat underneath one arm, turning her eyes down to her basket as if looking into it for something. “I do not need an escort... Alder is very protective of me, that’s all. And yes... I was. I am not anymore." They were treading close to something she’d been mostly able to avoid talking or thinking about for the last two years. This made her demeanor shift slightly, made her quiet, dimmed the usual sunlight of spirit that clung to her so often. With a small breath, she looked back up at Matthew and said softly, “My father died in Riverfall some time ago. I went there last season to...” To what? Put a ghost to rest? Stop yourself from thinking about it? Grieve? What does a prostitute care about your heart? ...right? “...visit. The edges of her lips again danced with a smile; she had quite a vocabulary of them, actually, each one more expressive than the last. This one told Matthew how dear her father had been to her, how deeply she regretted the mistakes of her past, and how happy she was to see him... even to talk of something so morbid. Even if he wasn’t happy to see her. “When I realized that I could not stay, I did what any fool would do... I crossed the Sea of Grass in the turn of a moon." Slender shoulders shrugged themselves slightly; she debated whether to elaborate, then added, “I’m no Drykas... my body has been paying for my urge to be gone." Another of those gentle laughs whispered from her. “It may be some time before I ever want to see another horse again... but I am healing now. Alder sent you with me probably to make sure I don’t ruin his good work again." As she finished, her mind crossed again to the warrior she’d met from the dream. They’d chanced upon each other in a field and she’d exerted herself far greater than she had any right to do - she knew it at the time, but her stubbornness wouldn’t let her show any more weakness than was necessary. Alder hadn’t known that she'd encountered someone, or at least hadn’t said anything to her about it, but he had known when she came home with broken blisters and bleeding weals. Dimly, ironically, Litani wondered if Alder would still have sent her with Matthew if he knew just how much more dangerous he was, just how much deeper damage he could inflict if he chose to. Blistered skin was only flesh that would heal; the right scar can last a lifetime.

[Matthew]

Her father? He realized he had never really asked anything about her family. They had pointedly kept focused on the topic he had come to her for, never really straying outside of it. They didn't meet outside of lessons, and didn't ever stray from the lessons. She knew he had a well-known family of some sort, and he... he hadn't known much about her. What little she had shared in those first few moments of meeting was all he had cared to know. Mulling this over, he thought back to that last day. That had been her mother, and now her father was gone as well? He couldn't imagine. Even if he tried his very best to stay distant to things, he still felt. If he had the power, he probably wouldn't, but he didn't have that power. As much pent-up emotion as he had toward his own family, he would likely grief if he lost them. If he lost both of them so soon? That would be a blow as well. He chewed on his lower lip again, a habit she would probably remember, blue eyes casting her glances every now and then as she went through her story. He didn't offer much, either out of politeness or out of not knowing what to say. He wasn't even so sure himself. "I am sorry for your loss." A little quick bow of his head, and that was that. He was as simple as always. The rest of her story was equally as interesting. A trip across the Sea of Grass, and then Alder. His eyes took in her bronzed flesh, furrowing just a bit, unwilling knowing that it wasn't the correct color. He was painfully familiar with her body. A memory came flooding back, and afraid that she would somehow see, he had to force his eyes to not drop to a particular scale on her figure. A single scale. One that would confirm illogical suspicions. But that is all they were, he reminded himself. Illogical. He used that to fortify himself, to harden, to cling to the island he had always so desperately stood his house upon. He was silently impressed with her ability to make the trip to Riverfall, no matter if her body had taken damage or not. He wasn't so sure that he would have had the bravery to do such a thing. From the small smile to the simple story she told, it was obvious how she felt about the man who had raised her. And then there was Alder. He had seen the way they had looked at each other, and remembered the way Alder's wife had been so eager to accept Matthew into the fold. What a horribly twisted web he had managed to weave himself into. He had placed himself there with perfect timing. How deeply did Litani and Alder care for each other? Were they aware that by most social standards, it was completely wrong for them to share the looks that they did? Perhaps that was why it was so very delicious. Matthew had dealt with quite a few taboo's in his time, but that was one he never dabbled in, if he could help it. Only because it was bad for business, though. It had nothing to do with his personal feelings on the situation. He didn't let those interfere. Like always. The woman beside of him was a rather detailed array of interesting stories. He looked inwards, at himself. Was he the same? He wasn't sure. It was interesting to see how much had changed in the years they hadn't known each other, though. How much had developed. Or had he just missed it all back whenever he was only interested in learning his craft? But you do know her. You've learned her. Matthew very nearly waved a hand, instantly flinching a little bit as the thought invaded his mind. He lashed out at it, banishing it back to the depths, shoving it behind a door and slapping a lock on it. He would beat down each of the stray thoughts until they were too worn to ever rear their heads. He turned his attention to the herbs she spoke of, shifting eyes all over the ground, noting the dozens upon dozens of plants and flowers that littered the shores of the spring. He knew he was still being noticeably quiet. Had he given the proper sort of response to the confession that her father was now gone? He hadn't known what else to say. And what about Alder, was he supposed to say something there? For all of his intellect, he didn't have a script prepared to face this situation. He had conversations on his terms. Even with the Myrian that terrified him, he had always approached on his terms. But this, he hadn't been prepared for this. Who would prepare to randomly run into a woman that had haunted his dreams for the past seven years? She had haunted everything. He had cursed her name just as much as he had shouted it. Sometimes, he wondered if she had done something to him. He would be servicing a customer when there would be the feeling of smooth scales, or the scratching of familiar nails. Then, just as quickly as the illusion had formed, it would be gone, making him wonder if it had ever been there at all. It was even worse when he had to service a Konti, though those particular customers were few and far between. They always asked how he knew the layers of the Konti body so well, though. He hadn't known what to say. He had certainly known the answer. Unbuttoning his shirt sleeves, he slowly rolled them up past his elbows, revealing tan skin that had grown even more defined than their last meeting. A few scratches adorned the skin, likely a byproduct of his profession. He briefly rose a hand to unbutton a few more buttons on his shirt and vest, but then quickly corrected the path of his hand, thinking better of it. He just ran the fingers through his hair, and then dropped them to each other. Lacing his hands together and then cracking the knuckles, he turned to fully face her, a strong and proud man that was slowly starting to let off this small feel of defiance. He wouldn't let her get to him, not again. Not the soft noises, the prying eyes, the long hair and the little smiles. Rolling his shoulders back and forth to generate a small series of cracks and pops, he tilted his head, blue eyes piercingly intense on her own. "I doubt you are fully well. Even though there are likely some personal feelings involved, Alder still knows best. At least I would think. I'll do what I can to help. Point out whatever you need me to get. Perhaps we can start with one, and fully gather it, just to make sure I have the appearance and method down? Or is it simple enough that I should be able to handle them all?" For all his defiance, he still stood just out of arms length. He was defiant, not stupid. With all the feelings churning around in him, and his mind fighting to lock them away, he didn't even know what his body would tell her. He wasn't keen on letting her be the only one with access to that knowledge. Someone knowing him better than he knew himself, even for a split second? That was nearly the exact definition of what terrified him. "You are my student, Matthew." His smile was sharp, his eyes intense. He stepped toward her, a man that she had given the exact knowledge of how to disassemble her. "And? A student you constructed just for you." The Konti flinched back, her eyes darkening, her breath catching in the moment right before she quickly shook her head. She couldn't hide from him. Why did she think she could? She had told him all of her tells. She had shown him each and every one. She had prepared him for this moment. He could see how badly she wanted it, no matter the age difference, no matter the social status. They didn't know each other, beyond their bodies. Was it something so simple that all they needed was that touch? Matthew lifted a hand, outstretched fingers reaching for her. Her lips parted, her own hand reaching up, the teacher slowly cracking. He smiled again, eyes glittering. She would be his. Matthew shivered just barely, biting his lip hard to stop himself. He had dreamt just this morning. This was not good. She had planned this. He narrowed his eyes at her, knowing it impossible, but suspicious anyways.

[Litani]

As the harlot murmured his words of sympathy - however simple, and felt or not - Litani only offered a small smile in response. “Thank you,” she said after a moment, her voice carrying the weight of a loss that’s been healed over but still far from accepted. Then, with a tilt of her head, a gentle thought occurred to her and she decided to risk the offering of too much information, saying softly, “I am very fortunate to have known him at all, much less to have been his daughter... He was loving and kind, honorable and truthful. Everything I am, he inspired.” She breathed a low chuckle, perhaps trying to lighten the emotional gravity of her words, but they were no less sincere for the whispered sound. “He was a wonderful father and I am sorry to have lost him, but... many never know such love. I have the gift of years of memories that are dear to me. I consider myself very lucky, for that reason.” Litani went silent and watched him carefully survey the terrain; from the way he handled himself, she judged him both familiar with the area and oddly off-center, as if something were gnawing at the back of his mind. Contrasting this Matthew with the one she’d known in Zeltiva, she might almost say he was afraid of something. Almost. She pondered this quietly to herself, hoping her words had not somehow upset him and she let him keep his own counsel as he glanced over the plants. Doubtless, he was wondering what to do. It was odd, she thought, that Alder had never sent him out before if Matthew was now working for him... Alder. With a delicate clearing of her throat, she looked to Matthew’s eyes and started to speak but then she noticed something else curious: not only was he acting cagey, now he almost felt... stand-off-ish. It could be anything. Anything. Perhaps he’s unhappy with how Alder has treated him... perhaps he dislikes being sent out here with me. Certainly he’s not jealous of us...? No, how foolish. It isn’t because...? He couldn’t... it was just last night, though.... no! It wasn’t real. Whatever was causing it, she could tell that he was unsettled and her instinct had her formulating a way to set that right. She’d always disliked it when others felt uncomfortable around her; she’d become almost inured to it with humans, as some were quite a bit more judgmental than others, but she knew that was not what was happening here. He wouldn’t’ve spent so much time with her, all those years ago, if he found her race distasteful. She was also accustomed to the way her Gift could set others off, which eventually lead to her keeping that knowledge more closely guarded... but, if that were the issue, then why the ‘lessons’ in Zeltiva, even after he knew? Why did he all but ask her to teach him how to touch her...? Professionalism, idiot. Right. Considering just how much he did know, dreams or not, made her shiver faintly. Of the two of them, she suddenly felt she had much more reason to be afraid than he ever could. Still, it was all too obvious that he had gotten himself tangled in a strange situation and, if the two were going to work together in any capacity, then perhaps a return to her familiar honesty would comfort him. She’d never lied and only rarely withheld; even when he got perilously close to threatening her self-control, she’d merely closed their meeting for that day and suggested another time. Even that last day... before they dreamed together for the first time... No! Your dream. Not together. “I think perhaps... an explanation is owed. If you truly mean to work with us, then it might be good for you to know.” ...was that the lace of hopefulness in her voice? Maybe, but if so, it was woven into a tone of reluctant but needful confession. As she spoke, she too began to let her gaze wander the foliage and, with the occasional glance back to him, she slowly settled herself at the water’s edge amidst a line of thickly-leaved plants that almost looked like cabbage. If cabbage had triangular-shaped leaves and a purple tinge to the edges. Her long legs bent gracefully as she flowed to her knees, then shifted to perch her body on one hip... as if the very act of curling up on the ground was a dance to please the eyes. “Alder and I met when I was a little girl. There is, I think, more difference in our ages than between you and I.” She smirked faintly at this, twitched a single eyebrow, then continued, “When we met, he was studying philtering and medicine and he taught me a few things... enough to know that, when my mother moved us to Zeltiva for little apparent reason, I wanted to continue to study it even without him. So I did...” She paused now, glancing up at him from her place on the earth, “That was when we met,” she went on, softly, still looking at him. “You and I.” Her eyes dropped down to his arms as he folded back his sleeves and she felt something in her veins tense as she looked at his skin; ignoring it, her gaze fell away then and she started to touch some of the leaves nearest to her, breaking in her story to laugh softly: “And if Alder thinks I am so unwell that I cannot sit on the ground and gather plants, he has woefully underestimated me. I can walk again just fine, I am quite well enough to gather some herbs.” This having been said, she snapped a few of the leaves off delicately, taking care not to shred the entire plant in the process. Raising the result up in one hand to let him see, if he wished, she said, “This is burdock. It grows near the spring because of the rich soil here. The leaves are crushed into an ointment for burns - we only take the leaves, and only some from each plant so that they may regrow.” Once he had seen what she had done, she gestured with one hand that he was welcome to join her. It was a beautiful, graceful gesture, an unfurling of wrist and slender, webbed fingers... inviting. Beckoning. Casually. “I am not a customer to serve, Matthew... I will not have you do this for me. But you are welcome to help if you wish to learn how.” Just how she managed to keep her voice calm in that last sentence was perhaps a small miracle; in truth, the moment the words left her lips, her mind started to spin with her subtle but pointed daring - she was contradicting her mentor, challenging her K--once student, and offering up the briefest hint of suggestion to their previous... physical... .relationship. All in one remark. Desperately, she hoped she had not offended him or overstepped some unspoken boundary. To distract herself, she continued the explanation she’d been attempting to get to before sitting down. “Alder was married by the time I returned from Zeltiva. We met, and he agreed to take me on as an apprentice... That was,” she paused, glancing at the sky, thinking. “eight years ago.” A silvery, lively laugh murmured from her throat and she shook her head a little, continuing, “We work well together - very well, in fact. Almost frighteningly so. From that,” - she glanced at Matthew, but only a glance - “professional relationship grew something closer. We... have never been more than friends. Nor will we ever be. He respects me and I respect him, and his family.” Quietly, she whispered, perhaps more to herself than to him, “And we are content with that.” After a brief exhale of breath, the subtle smile that seemed so easily at her command returned to her lips and lightened her features. Her fingers continued to slide easily among the plants and, after a small handful was gathered, she laid them carefully in the basket. As if a further indication that he was welcome at her side, should he so wish, she set the basket on the ground between them before quietly going back to work.