Continued Silence (Zhol)

by **Khara** on November 24th, 2014, 3:47 am

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..91st of Fall, 514

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On the eve of the Season's change it was clear that Winter had already wrapped it's icy claws around Wind Reach. It was a night for celebration. A night where the Inarta as a whole took one last breath before holding it the the next ninety-two days of hardship. It was supposed to be almost magical and in truth it would be in the very literal sense as the Wind Tower would flare from red to blue.

There was nothing celebratory about it to Khara though. Only fourteen days had passed since she had felt like her small world had crumbled into nothingness but each had been determined to stretch out as long as possible as the Chiet had ran herself ragged. Days off from work had been ignored under the pretext of making up for other days missed that she had already accounted for. No one had argued, but then again no one ever argued against someone doing more work.

Work itself was another matter entirely.The snows that had moved in, the closing of the Sanikas Gates, the roads that were now practically unusable, each of these added complications to a game scout's routines. Not a day went by that Khara wasn't the first to volunteer for the more miserable assignments, the ones that sometimes needlessly put her in harms way, the ones that were almost doomed to fail from the start, the ones where no glory or pride was to be found and the best you could hope for was reporting back on herd movements that you were several days late to find. Azira hadn't called on her and no other hunter seemed to want to make use of her either. Each day was spent cold, alone, and left with her thoughts. It was torture and Khara fully believed she had earned every tick of it.

Every day had become a blur of the same mixture of terror and sadness from the moment she left her room. From scurrying past the Crafts Gallery, to pulling the hood of her katinu up over her head as she rushed past the stables as she left to returning in the same manner, trying to never spare it a glance as she passed despite the tightening in her chest she felt each time. Today had been different though. Today was supposed to be something special. A season ago she had asked Zhol to join her to watch the Wind Tower change color, a season ago they had made promises that were now fractured, a season ago things had been… perfect or at least as close to it as she was ever going to get. It was for that reason only that she had slowed in her approach and had looked up the first time in days, some part of her hopeful and the other anguished over the possibility of even remotely seeing the human boy she had dared to consider something other than just a friend. He wasn't there, though. Perhaps it was for the better.

The thought plagued her as the night wore on, through a meal barely eaten, though a bath taken in abstract numbness that made her want to scour her skin until it was raw. She had been determined to go to sleep early, to try and get as much rest before she launched herself back out into the Unforgiving the next day, but as Khara had entered her room her thoughts fled once more. All it had taken was for her eyes to settle on the ruby colored scarf that had been neatly folded and had gone unworn for days. There had been some plan to return it to Zhol at one point, but that would have meant facing him.

A bell was spent sitting on her bed, hugging her knees as all she could do was stare at the simple object. It wasn't fair. It didn't make sense. How could she matter to him? How could he have said he didn't mind when she had accidentally woken up in his arms? How could they have been so close only to have it end in Can't? The longer she thought about it the more upset she became, bordering between anger and torment.

There was only one way to solve it. With a huff the girl lunged off her bed and snatched up the scarf in her hand before heading into the warrens.

"Nari" | "Common" | "Pavi"

by **Zhol** on November 24th, 2014, 3:50 am

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It was the height of day, and yet Zhol had never felt so deeply in the dark. No matter how warm and crowded the volcanic tunnels were, everywhere he went all he felt was cold and alone. The lights seemed dimmer, the colours more muted. Every facet, every detail, every nuance of the city that had seemed so exciting and intriguing and different had changed, each one grating on his nerves, worsening his mood, wearing away at his soul. His happiness was gone. His optimism had gone. His reason to hope had gone. Everything that had made the city of Wind Reach his home had been ripped away, twisted by his foolish choices into hating him, and he felt even more of an outsider than he ever had.

He trudged through the warrens, hunched and downcast, heading for the kitchens out of obligation more than anything else, his appetite yet another thing that had been stripped away. He ignored everything around him as much as possible, paying only enough attention to navigate, and evade collisions; but strangely accented words of Common drifted across the air towards him, demanding that he hear.

"Hey, horse boy!"

He turned slowly towards the source. It wasn't a voice he recognised, and the face that belonged to it wasn't familiar either. A blacksmith, he guessed from the attire; but not Thane, and not anyone else he could recall greeting. The Avora smirked at his companions, the last residue of an inside joke draped across his grin, at Zhol's expense no doubt. He tried to muster patience, but found none; prepared to turn away; would have left, were it not for the Avora's continued words.

"Where's your shadow?" the Avora taunted. "Is she still hiding from me? Or did you just turn out to be too much of a disappointment, now that she knows what a real man feels like?"

First came confusion, then realisation slowly dawned. The blacksmith. The one who hated her. Hurt her. Raped her. The one who had ruined everything between she and he. The one who had forged this impossible situation. The one who'd made it so all Zhol could do was break her heart, and his own in the process.

His hand clenched into a fist, his head already filled with whispers, every voice of every person he had ever known all imploring in unison for Zhol to do what must be done. His hip lacked the weight of his sword. Stupid. Foolish. His muscles weren't enough to turn his fists into anything useful. His rage seethed and coiled inside him, desperate to be released. There was only one thing to do.

He stepped forward, and wordlessly extended a hand. The blacksmith looked at him with confusion, then amusement. "The Outsider knows when he's met a better man," he chuckled, gripping Zhol's offered hand firmly, bulging smith's muscles trying to crush Zhol's fingers.

The blacksmith's eyes widened in horror as black patterns swam beneath Zhol's skin, oozing from his pores, wrapping first around Zhol's fingers before spreading to the blacksmith. He tried to wrench his hand away, but Zhol clung on with all the strength he could muster. The res climbed, coiling it's way around the blacksmith's wrist, departing from Zhol's skin completely.

Finally, Zhol released his grip. The blacksmith scrubbed furiously at his arm, but the inky substance wouldn't budge. His widened, horrified eyes fixed on Zhol's. "What the petch did you do to me?"

The eyes that stared back were almost as ice cold as the words that tumbled from Zhol's lips. "A lot less than you deserve."

Zhol turned away and began to walk. He didn't stop as his res burst into flame. He didn't stop as the blacksmith shrieked in panic and agony. He didn't stop at the divine pleas and curses he uttered. He didn't stop as he heard the blacksmith's compatriots advance; barely stopped as they grabbed his arms; only stopped as the blow struck the back of his head. The warrens swam around him, stone surging towards his face, but he barely felt the ground as he hit it; barely felt their boots colliding with his body; barely felt the crack of ribs and the wrench of his innards with each blow.

Only one thought lingered in his mind as his consciousness faded.

You should have left her alone.

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Zhol's eyes flickered reluctantly open, and for a blissful moment, nothing hurt. Then he made the mistake of drawing a breath, and every ache and pain began anew.

Days had passed since he had encountered the blacksmith in the tunnels, and on every one of them he awoke from those moments replaying in his mind. Guilt squirmed beneath his aching ribs, disappointment in himself that he had not done more. He recalled the Inartan who had attacked Khara the first day they met; the way it had felt when Zhol's sword had carved through his arm. He had done far less than the blacksmith, and had paid far more severely. Zhol wondered if perhaps he should seek him out again: a burned blacksmith couldn't be too hard to find, and what more could they do? What pain could they possibly inflict that was worse than what he already felt? Perhaps if he was fortunate, the blacksmith could help take that pain away.

It took a moment for his mind to realise why he had awoken: the sound of knocking against his door. He had half a mind to ignore it; he couldn't think of anyone it might be who he felt inclined to speak to right now. Drusilla would try to restore his hope, even though it was irrevocably gone and lost. Kami would worry over him, the way that she did at work, and it would be just as unwanted and unwelcome as it was there. If it was someone from the infirmary, he didn't want them: they'd only try and take the wrong pain away, and stop it from being a distraction from the other. If it was the blacksmith, or some more formal authority, well; either he'd let them believe he wasn't home, or they'd kick down the door; no effort was required on his part either way.

Yet for some reason he didn't lie there; with aching, uncomfortable effort he hauled himself from the bed, struggling to reach the edge of the mattress with his arm restrained by it's sling. He staggered unsteadily on protesting legs; had to catch himself against the wall to stop a tumble, barely even making it to the door. He fumbled the lock. Fumbled the latch. Slowly, the door creaked open.

by **Khara** on December 11th, 2014, 4:22 pm

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Khara had left her room determined to be angry but it dissolved only a few steps out of her door. Instead of the fiery explosion of emotion she had expected all she felt was small, like the barest flickering of a candle that had filled with too much wax. Each tick that went by threatened to drown her and every step only brought her closer and closer to impending doom. Where she had wanted to shout, to accuse, to question, all the Chiet girl could do was mutely stare at the floor once Zhol's door began to open. Her hands twisted around the scarf he had given her earlier in the season, another distraction to keep herself from having to look up at him. She felt the tear run its course down her cheek before she ever watched it splash against the soft red wool.

She had to be one of those people that liked pain. There was no good that could come from this, she knew that. Yet still she stood, her mind betraying her as it remained empty where practiced words had once been repeating so she knew she would get them right for a change. Where the mind started the revolution her body quickly followed, leaving her trembling, hands thankfully occupied to otherwise keep from any number of fidgets they could have dissolved into.

Her arms raised slowly, trying to offer back that which had been freely given as she had guessed it had once meant something it no longer did. Among Wind Reach such a thing could be seen as a symbol of courtship, but between her and Zhol it had seemed to mean something different. A symbol of their promise to never stop being themselves around one another, to always remain as true as they could, a small symbol of how she was part of his family and he was hers. She wanted to explain, to apologize, to say something...

Instead a startled gasp left her as she forced herself to look up. Khara hadn't been certain what to expect of how Zhol was looking at her in that moment but her mind disregarded all focus of his expression, gaze stopping before it ever made it that high. Instead she had narrowed in on the apparent signs of injury and the rush of worry and concern she felt for what had happened to put him in such a state won out over anything else. But only for a moment. He wouldn't want her thinking like that anymore, after all.

"I-I'm sor-sorry to bother you. I… I just… I..." Khara tried, really tried to say what she wanted, to be done with what she had planned, but instead her mind flooded with memories of the end of Summer, of the beginnings of Fall, of the day at the lakes, of the days that followed, of the nights spent in his room and finally crashed with the single word echoing in her head that she couldn't stop. Can't. Not didn't want to. Can't.

The tears started in earnest as she forced her eyes to make the rest of the climb to meet with his and she finally managed to ask the one question that had been plaguing her since she had left the baths that night.

"Why, Zhol?"

"Nari" | "Common" | "Pavi"

by **Zhol** on December 11th, 2014, 5:27 pm

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That question - why? - had been the sole focus of Zhol's thoughts for longer than he could recall; you would have thought that by now he would have come up with a satisfactory answer. But there wasn't one; not a simple one, at least. Each answer he could have given just raised more questions; no one thing explained it all. It was a jumbled mess, one that days and days of endless thought couldn't disentangle, no matter how much he tried.

A fraction of a second was as long as he managed to look at her: one glimpse of the tear track down her cheek and he couldn't bare to see any more. He stared down instead, towards his hands, and hers; never had he wanted to reach out and hold hers more, and never had the chasm between them seemed more impossible to cross. The scarf clutched in her fingers was agony, as blood red as the wound in his chest where his fractured heart struggled to beat. He didn't want to imagine what Khara must have been feeling. He didn't want to know just how much pain he'd caused. He didn't want to know with absolute certainty that there was no way he would ever be able to forgive himself.

"I knew what that meant."

The words were so thin and quiet as they escaped from his throat; he barely recognised his own voice, so dejected and feeble. He tried to gesture towards what Khara carried; his hand barely managed to move.

"The scarf. When I gave it to you, I knew that it might mean something. I wanted it to mean something. I wanted you to know, even though I couldn't say."

He was talking in circles, dancing around without actually saying anything. He cursed at himself inside his mind, still doing this to Khara despite what he had already done. She deserved some clarity, even if he could barely find any for himself. She deserved a reason that was more than one word. She deserved for him to try and make her understand.

"I am afraid, Khara." He tried again to look at her, but failed; his eyes only managed to climb as far as her shoulder. "I am afraid of a lot of things. I am afraid of myself. I am afraid of this city. But most of all, I am afraid of how I feel, and what would happen if you knew."

His vision clouded; his less injured arm struggled to his face, smearing away the tears, leaving him blinking, still struggling to see. He forced himself to look at Khara. Forced himself to watch the pain. Punished himself for causing it, by insisting that he bear witness. "That first day, in my room? All I wanted was to keep you safe. I didn't want anything for it, it was just the right thing to do. But you thought I would: you thought I would take advantage; you thought I would treat you the way that any other Avora would."

His eyes misted again; he couldn't muster the energy to stop them, a single tear breaking free and racing down his cheek. "I promised myself, and I promised you, that I would never do that: that I would never let your caste affect the way I treated you. I set myself the challenge of making you stop seeing my caste as well. I wanted us to be equals. I wanted us to be friends. Then I got to know you."

The breath of laughter was hollow, bittersweet. "This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to think of you that way. I wasn't supposed to want to break those promises. I wasn't supposed to fall for you. But I couldn't help it, not once I knew you. How could anyone?"

His shoulders sagged lower; his gaze fidgeted, trying to glance away, wrestled by his mind from direction to direction until it was finally forced to settle upon her again. "That was when I got scared. I know how you are around me. You try to forget that I'm an Avora, and sometimes you succeed, but sometimes you don't. Sometimes I wonder if you spend time with me because you want to, or just because an Avora asked you to. Sometimes I wonder if the Lakes meant to you what they meant to me, or if you were just doing as you were told."

His throat tightened, trying its best to strange his next words before he uttered them, but perseverance forced them through. "You were going to give your first time to me, not because you wanted to, but because you thought you had to. If you would have done that, just because of what I did then? What would you unwillingly do if you knew that an Avora, that I -"

His eyes tumbled to the floor, and there was no salvaging his gaze this time. He surrendered to his shame and sadness, resigned himself to the loneliness he would feel in a few moments when the truth drove Khara away.

"You want me to be with you the way he was. You want me to be with you because you think it will be less bad. I just can't. If we were together, just because I wanted it, and you thought that you had to be? If I got to be with you, but only because you didn't have a choice? If I was with you, if I had everything I could wish for, but you didn't feel the same way back?"

His voice trailed off, fading back to timid and quiet.

"I love you too much for that."

by **Khara** on December 11th, 2014, 6:29 pm

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"So it's because of what I am," Khara replied softly before she could realize the words were leaving her.

Of all the answers she had expected, everything that Zhol had said had never been among them. His words were confusing, hard to understand, and they sounded so very very wrong.They had met strangely, and she had assumed the worst of him but as soon as he had refused and she had gotten over the embarrassment of the situation that had been the end of it. While always aware that Zhol was an Avora, she had never ever felt forced to do anything. There had never been a moment where she was simply doing something out of obedience or duty. He had never made her feel that way. He loved her but refused her anyway? That… that did not make sense.

Her thoughts stumbled as she repeated his words in her head. I love you too much… Surely she had heard wrong. This had to be another instant of Common not quite reflecting what they wanted to say. There were different kinds of love after all, weren't there? Yes. Yes there were. But it didn't seem like he was talking about her as a pseudo-sibling or in a family way. He knew what a gift of a scarf could mean. Why then? Why was he saying this? Why was he so wrong about all her intentions? What had she done to create this mess?

More importantly, how could she fix it?

Khara's eyes tried desperately to meet his, even if her vision was continually distorted by the open display of just how much hurt she felt. "You have never made me do anything. I have never felt like I had to do anything. Everything is because I want to because you let me want to. You do not force anything."

She stammered over each word, accent horribly mangling certain ones and she suddenly wished for nothing more than one of them to possess the ability to read the others mind.

An unsteady breath was drawn in and she shook her head. "I do not wish it was you to undo what he did. I wished it was you before that happened even if we did have a misunderstood meeting. Not because I have to repay you. Not because I owe you anything but because it is a thing here that you do with someone you would like to. I know it is not the same where you came from, but that is how it is. Nothing more. You being my friend, you making me happy? That is more than enough reasons to want to do something else with you that would not be bad. I wish it was you because you are Zhol. Not because you are an an Avora."

The thought unsettled something within her, threatened to slither from the back of her mind to wrap around her, to crush and swallow her whole. No, she couldn't focus on that. That had been ruined by someone else and the more she focused on it the more it seemed that all she wanted from him was some sort of physical gratification that she couldn't even consider without suddenly being thrown into a panic.

She looked down at the scarf in her hands, her quiet confession becoming louder as confusion settled in and gave way to agitation. "The only thing you have ever made me do is feel as though I am not worthless. Why is that bad? Y-You say you wish for me to feel for you in such a way? Why when I showed you I do, did you not want me to? You…” Khara paused and felt her entire being stumble over the word before she could say it. "Love me? Then why cannot I feel the same? Why does my caste matter? What's is so wrong with me? Why don't you want me when I want you?"

It hurt to look back up at him, but Khara forced herself to do so regardless."Why am I not allowed to love you as well?"

"Nari" | "Common" | "Pavi"

by **Zhol** on December 11th, 2014, 7:37 pm

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Zhol's chest seized and constricted frantically, every breath harder than the one before. His skin prickled, body both warm and cold in waves and flashes. His vision darkened at the edges, a strange emptiness beginning to sweep over him, beginning to rob his legs of what little stability they had so far been able to provide. He stumbled, slumping against the door frame for balance as his lungs fought for air.

This was worse than ever, his attempts to explain merely deepening the confusion between them. How was this happening? What could he do? Forget forgiving himself: how could Khara ever forgive him if he didn't somehow make her understand?

"I don't -"

Words were a struggle, each syllable fought for, each breath borrowed from lungs that had none to spare. He wished he could just utter things in Pavi; but even then it might not even help. Everything was different here. Children came from chance encounters, and that was often the norm. Couples that stayed together longer than they needed, for reasons beyond the physical where uncommon enough that they were considered odd, and strange. There was no concept of marriage. No concept of family. People felt other things, perhaps, but physical needs took precedent: the loins led, not the heart. It was like trying to explain sunlight to a blind man; he didn't know where to begin.

At the beginning, his sister's voice whispered in his mind. She asked you why, so tell her.

A slow, trembling breath was drawn into his lungs. His eyes stayed focused on the floor, not out of shame but for fear of the swirling dizziness that would surely assault him if he moved his head even an inch.

"You are the sweetest person I have ever known."

Each word became a little easier, each admission offering a helping hand to the one that came next, each truthful step coming faster and more readily than the one before. "There is not a single speck of darkness on your entire soul. You are kind. You are warm. You are so shy, and so nervous when you speak; and yet your voice is more beautiful than any song I have ever heard, and every word touches me; warms your heart. You are so embarrassed when your words stumble, but to me it is a wondrous thing: I am blessed that you think speaking to me is worth so much effort."

He swallowed, a few fleeting glances risked in her direction, his words gaining confidence and certainty. "You have cared for me, guided me, been there for me, no matter how lost I became in this place. You told me once that Wind Reach is my home: if that is true, it is only because you are here. You are the thought I think of when my eyes closed. You are the reason that my heart still knows how to smile. It is not just that you are not worthless: to me, you are worth more than anyone I have ever known."

His voice faltered, her words taunting him. "There is nothing wrong with you, Khara. How could there be? You are perfect."

Slowly his eyes rose back to her, a smile on his features despite how sad he felt, flickering on the edge of tears.

"It is not about what you are: it is about what I am. Here, in Wind Reach, when a man and a woman are with each other, it does not mean what it does with me. If I were with you, that way, it would not be because you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen, or because of the way my heart forgets to beat when I am around you. It would not be because my body demands it, or as a means to some pleasurable end. If I am ever lucky enough to make love to you, my wanting to will be because my soul cannot bear to be so far from yours any longer."

He steadied himself on his feet, taking a few small steps to bring him closer to Khara. "I do not want you for your body, or what it will make me feel. I want to be with you so that every morning I can awaken with you in my arms, and not have to pretend it is not the happiest I have ever been. I want to be with you so that every time we walk beside each other, I can hold your hand in mine, instead of feeling my body ache for wanting that. I want to be with you so that when I catch sight of your eyes and get lost in them, I don't have to look away and hope you didn't see."

His hand gently came to rest against her arm, emotions still wrestling across his expression, his breaths still just barely enough to speak. "I love you, Khara, a thousand different ways. If we are together, and you do not understand that? If you do not understand why making love to you will make me the luckiest soul who has ever lived?"

His smile faltered.

"It would break my heart."

by **Khara** on December 11th, 2014, 9:32 pm

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He had rendered her completely and totally speechless. Khara didn't quite understand everything he had told her, but she had listened and really tried to. There were just some things she couldn't entirely make sense of, or relate to, or find some way of it lining up with everything she knew - well, thought - about the way the world worked.

"I want to understand," she mournfully confessed. She did though, at least somewhat. The general idea, maybe. It was still confusing to her and didn't dwell well with her other thoughts. Khara looked away from him again as her hand raised to rest against her arm, just under where his hand was placed. Her fingernails pressed against her skin as she continued to softly speak. "I d-don't want th-that anymore. I thought I did. But I... not after… ”

It was supposed to be reassuring, but it certainly didn't feel like it was. Almost a Season ago, when Fall had first begun, after they had spent the day at the Twin Lakes, certainly she had entertained the idea. Even then she knew she would never able to actually bring herself to ask if he had wanted to do anything physical with her. But that had been before. Now Khara was fairly certain she didn't even like the act and the only thing she ever idly wondered now was if it would have been different with Zhol. She still may have found out she didn't like it, but at least then it would have been with him and she knew he wouldn't ever ask her to do it again if that was the case. There were plenty of other things she liked, after all. All the other gentle touches, the secure hugs, even the kiss - her first kiss - she had stolen from Zhol had been good until he had verbally pushed her away. She didn't need the rest, she didn't want the rest and she had no idea how to try and explain that without making it sound like she had no interest in him ever touching her.

Her gaze moved to where his hand rested against her arm and she gently moved her hand upward to cover his. "This though? This is what want. When you touched my hands and bandaged them or when you hold them when you see I fidget too much. When you let me be against you when I wake up from a nightmare and put your arms around me. Wh-when you let me just be close to you at the Wind Tower? That is what I want."

Fingertips slid between his, coaxing his hand away from her arm until she could tighten her hold against his hand, until she could make it so that if he chose he could gently squeeze hers in that reassuring way that made her feel so overly calmed by such a simple thing. It was a gentle pressure that right then she would give just about anything to feel.

"Y-you p-promised me. Last s-season change. Khara paused and cringed at the sound of her stuttering voice. A deep breath was unsteadily drawn in before she tried again. "You promised that we could always be like that. That we could be comfortable around each other. That we didn't need to act any different than that. I know I am not so good at keeping my end of it, but I have been trying. When I was staying with you, it was easier. You were not just an Avora to me. You were just… My horse boy. My protector. The one I trust more than anyone else. The one who means everything to me. And that was us keeping that promise..."

As Khara spoke her fingertips gently ran against the back of his hand and wrist. Her eyes remained fixed on that point, refusing to raise to look back to him for fear she would lose her ability to speak again.

"You have never made me do anything I did not want to. I do not want to make you feel like you have to do anything, either. I am sorry for what happened in the baths. I should have asked if it was okay. I just… I am no good with words. I say a lot of them but they do not come out so right so often no matter what language I am speaking with. I just… I just wanted you to know how I felt."

"Nari" | "Common" | "Pavi"

by **Zhol** on December 11th, 2014, 10:04 pm

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"I thought that -"

Their promise: the one that he had tried so hard to honour; that things would remain as they were; that they wouldn't change. Never had he understood something so incorrectly. What he had thought was a leash, holding things back from advancing any further, had instead been intended as an anchor, to stop things from slipping back to how they had been before. All these days, all those times where he had held himself back, every urge he had stopped, every touch he had aborted; he had been wrong to do so. Khara had never wanted him to maintain his distance; all she had wanted was to stop him from moving further away.

That realisation clenched tight around his heart, but in the palm of that vice-like grip, the last dying ember of his hope erupted into a raging inferno. It didn't matter what he had thought. It didn't matter what she had said before, what she had meant, what he had understood. What she said now was what was important; and what he did next was all that mattered.

Gently, he eased his hand from hers, slow enough that it wouldn't feel like pulling away, little enough that his fingertips still brushed against her skin as they travelled down her arm to her hand. He teased the folded scarf from her hold and, with almost ceremonial reference, let it fall open before gently draping it around her shoulder, looping it around the place where it belonged. "I do not want to be with you that way," he reinforced, his fingers lingering to gently brush along the curve of her jaw, "Not until you are ready to be: whether that is days from now, years from now, or never. The way I feel about you will never change: I have chosen who I want to be my first, and I will wait for her as long as she needs me to."

The idle touch of his fingers turned into a caress of her cheek, the brush of loose hair behind her ear. "Until then, I will love you in every other way that is possible. I will be everything to you that you wish me or need me to be; and I promise, I will never try to be anything more than what you are ready for us to be."

His words caught in his chest; he thought of the first they had already shared, the one he had ruined. His hand gently cradled Khara's cheek, and he didn't even need to look to find the small, nervous, uncertain smile that crept onto his lips.

"I would like to kiss you now, if that is okay."

by **Khara** on December 12th, 2014, 4:04 am

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This wasn't really happening, was it? Things like this didn't happen to her. But if it was some sort of dream, Khara never wanted to wake up. Finally, she thought, finally something she had said had gotten through to him and he understood. Not only that though, there was little to leave any doubt in her mind that Zhol felt the same way, maybe even stronger somehow. It didn't matter though, he shared the feeling regardless.

She had found his injured arm - something that was still a mystery she would solve later - to be an unfortunate thing in that moment. Not just that he was hurt, that in itself was horrible and the fact she hadn't known about it until now was almost enough to tip guilt into the mixture of emotions running through her. It was stayed by the scarf that he wrapped around her. It wasn't as good as his arms were, but the gesture was still comforting and she doubted she would ever don the item without thinking of that moment ever again.

As his hand gently ran against her skin she felt her eyes begin to water again, tears for an entirely different reason had to be blinked away before she met his gaze and for once realized all that he had been holding back from her. It was a subtle change in the way Zhol looked at her, but it was there, and it pained her to know that she had waited so long for them to admit this, to be able to see the real him.

The way he asked for permission from her caused a nervous twinge to run through her. Not unpleasant, eager and timid, perhaps. Khara felt her head nod before the soft, "Yes," managed to leave her. "It is very okay."

"Nari" | "Common" | "Pavi"

by **Zhol** on December 12th, 2014, 4:25 am

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There was more nervous in Zhol's smile than he would have liked; but it belonged there, he supposed. After all, this was important: it might not technically have been their first, but it was the the one that he wanted her to remember. It felt like there was an important difference too, between the first time you were kissed, and the first time you did the kissing; at least, Zhol hoped there was, so that the small kernel of panic in the centre of his chest had a valid reason to be there.

He stepped the slightest bit closer, unable to use his injured arm to pull Khara against his body, so moving his body closer to hers. He traced a finger around the shape of her face, a contented sigh creeping from him as he gazed into the golden eyes that made Syna seem dull and dim. He could have stood there and stared into them forever, a happy eternity peering into the most beautiful soul he had ever seen. That forever could wait until later, though. His fingers gently brushed across her cheek.

He wanted to say something, felt that he should; but he couldn't muster any words as he lowered his head towards hers, feeling as if he was falling in slow motion into an abyss he had no desire to escape from. He gently tilted her chin, and at last his lips met hers: not bursting with passion, or hunger, or desire, but a soft and delicate caress, tentative and timid. Even so it was enough to flood his soul with lightning, and spark an addiction that he never wanted cured. His fingers slid backwards, following the curve of her neck, drawing her lips closer to his as the kiss intensified, Zhol willing with all his might that he could somehow convey everything that his words so far hadn't managed to.

He would rather have torn off a limb than let his lips part from hers, but his lungs demanded it, rushing to steel a sudden breath. His head rested gently against hers, eyes firmly closed just in case this would all turn out to be some wonderful dream if they opened.

"I am sorry," he whispered, "For waiting so long."

Closed Continued Silence (Zhol)