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[Noven]

His eyes were still shut tight in concentration as Nov tried to dredged up images of home--namely stiff, blue bodies lying beneath the snow and bundles of malnourished children brought out of the orphanage for a quick burial around this time of year--when the Initiate's voice drifted over the rock.

Noven's eyes popped back open. Godsdammit, he thought Keene had been lost in a daze. Certainly had looked like it, what with the glassy gleam to her eyes as she stared ahead, though whether the Initiate's gaze had been aimed at an empty space, the fire, or Nov himself was anyone's guess. All the same, the merc was dragged out of his hasty meditation to face the most immediate source of his discomfort. His body went perfectly still as he listened. With his increased sensitivity, he could every tone, every inflection of her voice over the crackle of flames.

His tail gave a few involuntary flicks to either side at the sound of her feminine voice. Strangely enough, it felt...familiar to him, in a curious sort of way. Probably because the bulk of his life had been run by women of similar stature and build. Nov couldn't tell if it was a good thing or bad thing, until he looked down and swore again. Bad. Definitely bad. He'd been so close to getting rid of it, too.

This wasn't an issue before, though. How the hell did it become one?

"No," he managed to blurt. "I'm...fine. Just, uh...need some space to think."

Which could have won first place for this Winter's most stupid lie told yet. But it had at least some partial truth to it. And Nov was in no mood to be creative.

The last of Syna's rays were sinking below shadowed backdrops of hills and the occasional presence of trees. Nov had resumed his morbid reveries, allowing any and all worries he formerly kept buried beneath eight feet of sheer, callous will to be unearthed like so many victims of a mass murderer. His methods wouldn't have had to be so extreme if the literal rise of his new problem hadn't come so swiftly and inexplicably. He'd never tried to pretend to be anything other than what he was: a man with needs and the ability to appreciate. But this was completely out of line, even for him.

The problem wasn't so much that Keene went from having a knob to not having one, or even that she was now infinitely more appealing to the eyes. No...the problem, Nov was slowly starting to realize, was that she was vulnerable.

Clothes tattered, magic subdued, and physically so exhausted that she had crumpled to the ground only moments before. The most vulnerable of vulnerable. The easiest of prey. Old Noven, the earless and tailless version, had been responsible for everything up until that point. The chaste catch, the coat pillow, the respectful though admittedly somewhat selfish turn of the back. Old Noven had no interest in taking advantage of the weak. He'd seen it done all his life by the scum who ruled Sunberth. Such cowardice made him sick to the core.

But right now...right now something completely twisted and confusing was urging him to take what he wanted, when he wanted. They were in the middle of no where as fresh fugitives. No one would know or care. And even if the Initiate managed to run back on his own, who would she tell? Who would she run to? As soon as she revealed what the mystery brew had done to them both, he would have to face Overseer Telemnar's wrath, Nov was certain. Hardly worth the risk. And, most importantly of all, she had no magic at the moment, having drained herself to light their meager fire.

It would be easy. So easy. Not to mention it would bring him much needed relief. Not just from the terrible strain in his pants, but from the looming headache as well. He was stronger and faster. It was his right, as nature herself dictated. And it wouldn't cost much...just a quick slice of his Tamo against that perfect, porcelain skin, and he could call upon his ma--

Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!!

Nov crouched against the solid slab of rock and ground his eyes against his palms. He brought back the images of all the people he'd ever lost, their features flashing one after another in his head, some more faded than others with the passage of time, until he was drowning in pain and sorrow. Lost in their tumultuous waves like a sailor at sea, with nothing to hold onto but the sole piece of driftwood his will had been reduced to.

He felt like his was losing his mind. The man groaned inward and clutched at his head, resisting the urge to tear out his thrice cursed ears. Could the mystery ale have been this strong? He hadn't consumed nearly as much as Keene and the Initiate was showing zero signs of wanting to anything to do with him, let alone petch him. He hadn't eaten or drank anything else either, considering how unreadily available food and drink were back at the Citadel. Maybe Keene was immune. Maybe her magic protected her.

But wait. Noven had eaten something Keene hadn't. Not a bell before he'd accepted a handful of mushrooms, chewing up at least two before deciding they might taste better...cooked...

Leaping from his hiding place and erection completely forgotten, the merc ran around to the side of the rock and kicked the roasting fungi away from their fire. One got the boot so hard it went spinning into the slowly thickening darkness, twig and all, before landing who knew where.

"Don't eat those," he snapped. "They're...they make you..."

Nov struggled for all of five or so ticks to find a better way to explain before he sighed in defeat. "Just don't eat them."

Then he stared awkwardly at the Initiate for another handful of breaths before stalking back to the other side of the rock. Maybe he could try contracting certain muscles to draw the blood elsewhere...

[Keene Ward]

Noven hardly sounded "fine", nor did Keene find the other man's need for "time to think" a true motive. The member of the Scars was many things, but a thinker he was not, as he'd proved only bells before with his brash decision to attack the Overseer. It was something else then, but what, he had few ideas. He could feel his mind struggling to adhere to the strictness of logic that normally did, small chinks in his reasoning allowing for flights of fancy. There was the possibility, however unlikely, that Noven was angry at him; why he was focusing on it, however, Keene wasn't sure. Whether Noven was upset at him or not, his emotional state, while a possible drive, was hardly the source of the problem. Keene understood these things, and yet he dwelt upon it, even going so far as to feel a bit of apprehension. Shoving it out of the way with what will power he had left, Keene turned his head back up towards the sky, making sure to keep the torn bit of Noven's clothing to his nose to keep the blood from getting everywhere.

He'd been noticing Noven's scent more and more, and it was in a matter different from the simple: woody, bit of sweat, some anger; instead, there were emotional ties to it: safe, unpredictable, comforting. Finding his thoughts uncomfortable, Keene set the cloth to the side and opted to breathe through his mouth for the time being, staring up and the darkening sky, tracing the different layers of the clouds above to keep his mind off of how good the jacket that served as a pillow for him seemed to smell. As he counted, however, he found his mind deviating from the meticulous count and wondering at the hued beauty as the sun dipped under the horizon. Emotions were rising up out of him faster than he could get a handle on them, and Keene lolled his head to the side to stare at the fire, a literal attempt to burn them out of him. As his eyes watched the flickering dance of the pale blue flames, Keene found them romantic in their constant sway against the wind, like a desperate love for something it simply couldn't have.

The poetry of the thought was more than enough to force him to close his eyes, squinting perhaps a bit more dramatically than was necessary to plunge his vision into darkness. It swam with images, something that wasn't necessarily unusual, though Keene was certain that the last time he'd cleared his mind of the jumble, there had not been so many that revolved around his fox-tailed companion. They were hard to remove as well and some were paired with words like "strong" and "alluring". These, he pushed as far away from his conscious as he could, but he was finding his mental faculties to be a bit delayed and weakened. Silently he cursed himself for wasting his res as he'd done. It seemed the overgiving effects were more than a simple fatigue of body and bloody nose. He was beginning to feel, though not in the typical sense of it. Things were too much; the sky was too beautiful, his body was too tired, Noven was too-

Keene interrupted the thought by weakly drawing a hand up to his face, bringing it down with the force of gravity, eliciting a small smack of sound of skin upon skin, followed by a muffled squeak of surprise. He'd felt the hit in both his face and his arm, the arm that had been numb since he could remember. The first thing he did, however, was to glance over at Noven to make sure he hadn't disturbed him and - to his great frustration after the fact - to see if he had taken notice of him. Noven, for the most part, seemed to be playing the role of the thinker quite well. He was crouched beside the rock, his shoulders hunched and tail flicking back and fourth in aggravation. If he'd heard anything, he didn't look it. Slightly hurt that the man hadn't taken notice of his strife - something Keene furiously attempted to assuage with a logical understanding that his plight was hardly something the other man should be concerned with - he turned his attention back to his hand, flexing it and staring at it as if it were some new alien thing. He could feel the heat of the air, and as he ran his fingers over his lips, he could sense the delicate sensations of his fingertips running over the smooth flesh beneath them.

Transfixed and, for the moment, within his right mind, Keene's intense investigation of the return of feeling to his arm was interrupted by a sharp shout. What should have only startled him elicited a small gasp, something Keene moved his hands to muffle as the mushrooms rocketed off into the gathering darkness. Wide eyes turned back to search for what might have caused the sudden outburst of emotion, flicking over his aggravated face and hastened breathing, lingering on his shoulders and arms, taking note of the strength beneath his skin that rippled with his movements; then he noticed the source of Noven's frustrations. Blinking, the rise in Noven's pants immediately became Keene's singular focus as the other man blurted out something about eating. The first thing Keene thought wasn't something revolving around shock or objective surprise, rather: It's bigger than I thought it would be. Blinking several times, Keene's heart had increased to a rapid rate, and he felt his cheeks turn hot in a blush. Before he realized was he was doing, Keene let out a soft trill of bell-like laughter that danced off into the night like some strange, alien ghost.

His hand flew up to his mouth, eyes wide with surprise as he stifled the sound by pressing his fingers against his lips to force his mouth shut. He could feel it, bubbling up from his stomach and, trapped at is was, shaking his shoulders. His focus was quickly slipping, instead of worrying about why he was laughing, he was more worried about the man in front of him as he turned to stalk back to his place by the stone and away from his sight. He preferred to see Noven from the front. Somewhere in the expanse of his increasingly confused and changing mind, there was a sharp and furious shout of dismay, but it was promptly ignored. "Wait." She extended a hand towards the furry little ears that twitched atop Noven's head, a small smile playing about her lips. She was a little bit too tired to stand, and crawling after him would have been far to desperate. With her smile playing just under the tone of her words, she continued. "You don't have to hide, Noven." Another small chuckle which was followed by a short moment of hesitation as her eyes flashed with an icy glare that was quickly forgotten as she gently shook her head, the ache of the motion restricting too drastic of movements. "I've seen worse, you know." There was a slight bounce of tease in her voice as she let her arm fall back to her side.

At that point, most of her confusion had faded. She had been upset over something, but whatever it was wasn't much more than a nuisance. She was far more interested in the tragic young man before her, his flustered display to protect her from what he deemed dangerous a sweet, though perhaps over-dramatic gesture. Keene had no intention of telling Noven the mushrooms only had a side effect when they weren't cooked, it wouldn't help things and, for the moment, the only thing she really wanted to do was sink her head against his chest and breathe in the safe smell of his scent. She was scared, she could remember that much, and the feelings had only been growing over the past few bells. Noven, of course, had been one of the few stable things around her. Perhaps he was a bit hot-headed, but it only made him all the more endearing. She watched him with a curious spark in her eyes, wishing him nearer but leaving the decision up to him. He was, in a word, embarrassed. She could understand why, and Keene had little desire to force him to do anything he seemed so adamant against. Come to think of it, he'd only barely looked at her for the past few bells. She glanced down to her scantily clad chest, remembering that her clothing had become ill-fitting after drink the ale with him. Shifting slightly, she did her best to cover up some so that Noven might not feel like he couldn't look her way. She liked the way his eyes lingered on her.

[Noven]

The sound was so startling at first that it stopped the merc dead in his tracks. He couldn't remember hearing anything like it since setting foot in the Citadel, immersed as all three Scars had quickly become in the stark, foreign routines of Nuits and the Pulsers many of the cadavers so begrudgingly tolerated. While his usual impulse would have been to chafe against such alien authority, Nov found himself embracing his new set of trials and limitations. Even something as simple as fetching water was as difficult as it was paramount. And somehow, in the midst of all of this dismal struggle, the man found peace.

Or maybe it wasn't peace. Maybe it was just acceptance, the calm belief that every unpleasant thing that happened to him, happened because he deserved it.

Whatever the case, Noven had wrapped his circumstances around him, woven together to form some kind of thorny blanket. It occurred to him once that coming to Sahova was not unlike slapping a kid's forward before yanking a loose tooth. You were just distracting one pain with another in vague hopes that the victim wouldn't notice.

Once. And then he drove it from his mind to some deep, dark corner where the rest of his worries were forced to reside.

The other reason for his astonishment, of course, was the unmistakable, crystalline femininity of the sound itself. In less time than it took for a single cycle of breath, Nov was fghting again. Knocked from his tenuous perch of morality to tumble back into the fierce disarray of nostalgia, conflicting wills, and a wretched longing for something he'd spent most of this season so fervently denying even existed.

Which was why it look as long as it did for him to feel some of that heat in his pants rise all the way up to his neck and face.

Sodding, bleeding hell. She was laughing. Laughing at his predicament. As if there weren't enough holes already in his rapidly deflating ego. The merc was still torn between bolting and making the laughter stop in the most ruthless, messy way possible, when Keene spoke.

"Wait."

Wait? He remained rooted where he was, rearing his head reluctantly and anger halfway past his tongue. It was the only reaction he knew to being laughed at. The only one most orphans ever learned. But then he saw the Initiate's pale, outstretched hand, and the fury in his eyes dulled a little. She hadn't meant to be malicious, that much was clear.

As for the rest of her intentions, though...a fresh wave of confusion swept over the hapless merc. Something about the way Keene spoke to him was preventing him from making a full retreat behind his trusty rock. Whether it was for curiosity or concern he could't say. He'd never really understood the sorcery behind women and their potent charms; they remained accursedly effective no matter how many times he swore off of them altogether. But, nonetheless, Nov found himself gradually sinking back onto the ground. Soon he was sitting cross legged beside the fire again, hands clasped around one ankle to hide the protrusion in his trousers. There was naught much else he could do for his unseemly state.

Then he stared silently at his only companion for miles around, half in bewilderment, half in dread.

It was impossible not to notice the Initiate adjusting her clothing again. To say that he was watching because hers was the only glimpse of bare, feminine flesh he'd seen since leaving Sunberth was to deny Keene's transformation justice. And it was a fact that Nov had to remind himself of over and over. However the mystery brew had done it, Lady Keene grew only more convincing in her metamorphosis. Perhaps it was just his increasingly untrustworthy imagination. Or the mushrooms. Or the brew itself. Whichever he felt more frustrated with in the moment. Not to mention that each attempt she succeeded in covering more of herself proved only to be more distracting and disappointing than the last.

Regardless, a part of him was beginning to suspect Keene's cosmetic changes were becoming more than skin deep. Noven himself had felt the effects of his own transformation from the very start and was irritably aware that they were only growing stronger. But the Initiate had maintained such a cold, iron grip on his internal state during their entire misadventure. It wasn't until she'd drained herself to the point of nosebleeds and fainting spells that that grip seemed to loosen a little. Nov could hear it in the teasing lilt of her voice as she convinced him to stay, see it in the way her clear, blue eyes reinforced that very same will. And was his mind playing tricks again, or did he truly catch a flicker of interest, of wistfulness, that hadn't been there before?

The most unsettling part, however, was not that he could hear or see this change in--no, this unveiling of--the Initiate's feelings, but that he smell it. There had been embarrassment, of course. Though if it had been mostly Keene's or his own Nov found it hard to tell. Then there was a flash of sulfurous anger, followed by the tang of underlying fear. These last two were the easiest to identify for reasons entirely too obvious. But there was one more after all the rest...a heady, earthy scent that now lingered in the air, reflected in the shape of tiny flames dancing across her pale, glittering gaze...

That's it, Nov thought to himself. I've finally gone full, fucking mental.

"You, uh...feeling better?" he forced himself to ask, his voice a bit raw from all of his internal wrestling. He was desperate to inject any semblance of normality at all into their current situation. "I'll keep watch if you need more rest."

As for the rest, Nov was just going to keep doing what he did best: ignore the shyke out of the elephant in the room.

[Keene Ward]

She smiled as Noven settled himself before the fire, hands humbly placed to partially hide his own shame. Rolling her body more so that she lay with shoulder and hip pressed into the ground, she kept her hand at her chest, holding the cloth together for the sake of her own modesty, though it was more for Noven's sake than anything else. For a moment, she didn't say anything, icy-blue eyes searching Noven's flushed face, hints of dismay playing in her now almost overly expressive gaze. She wanted him closer, wrapped around her, but he sat so adamantly away from her. It was frustrating, be she was too weak to stand and walk over to him, to nudge her nose against his and giggle at how it might tickle. She let out a frustrated sigh, hand slipping from her shirt to favor rubbing her eyes before she shook her head. "I would feel better if-"

She stopped herself. Something about a straight-forward request that the man join her seemed wrong, a distant voice in her head shouting out unintelligible words. Instead, Keene just gave Noven a soft smile. "If you did that. Thank you." After which she fell quiet once more, eyes unabashedly moving over Noven's frame. If he had made his decision, she wouldn't push him, if for no other reason than she simply couldn't. As a consolation, Keene contented herself to just enjoy their time together. Yes, there was the firm potential that they were being hunted by citadel's golems and once found, they would be killed, tortured, or much worse, but in that moment, she had him to herself. She couldn't really remember ever wanting him all too herself, she supposed, but she had him now and it was pleasant enough. The headache and the weakness weren't ideal, but it didn't keep her eyes from moving or her mind from thinking.

He was strong, muscled, and she had already been given a sizable hint at what sort of physique he hid beneath his own clothes. The nervous flicking of his tail and ears was almost as hypnotic as it was adorable: to think the wild ball of fire that was Noven to be something so paradoxically cute at the same time. A small, amused smile played at her lips, the man's own obvious state of discomfort something that wasn't shared. The flickering light of the fire cast strange, dramatic shadows over his features: determination burning brightest among them. Another small sigh escaped her lips before she moved to push herself up. At first, it felt as though her arms were far too weak to support any weight, but a few ticks later and she was situated with knees bent and weight over her feet, seated neatly, if not a bit unsurely, where she had been laid in the hope of rest. Gathering up Noven's jacket, she donned it over her shoulders, pulling her hair out of it so that it cascaded down over her back, still loosely kept in its tie.

The feelings of vertigo had dissipated some, and while it required slightly more effort than it usually did for her to remain seated, she was comfortable enough, the coat around her a hint of the embrace she found she was longing for more and more. Perhaps it was because she couldn't remember the last time she'd been touched in any way beyond a handshake or a brief moment of support, or it may have just been the moment. She knew he wanted to, but she couldn't figure out what stopped him. Their friendship, perhaps? Keene couldn't remember very clearly if that's even what they were, or really... any sort of specifics before the fire. There were only emotions, distant and soft. She knew that she respected him, and that paired with the occasional shouts of her brain were the only things keeping her from literally throwing herself at him. If he chose to simmer in silence, it was his choice. Still, it was the wrong choice. Clearing her throat, Keene shook her head, a little lilt of a tease in her melodic voice. "I'm feeling a little better now. I think you're watching me helped." A small wink with plenty of insinuation followed.

On a more serious note, Keene gently shook her head, the motion slower than usual due to the dull throb of pain in her head, but her voice was reassuring. "Really though, Noven. It's fine. You're-" A small pink of blush reddened her cheeks as she grinned at herself. "Fine." It was painfully obvious that Noven found the entire situation wrong and wanted nothing to do with it. Keene simply did what she could to assuage it. "So what should we do now? I could watch you if you wanted to sleep or-" She blinked, not finishing the sentence. Or what. Keene looked away from his face an into the fire, eyes reflecting the dance of the pale flames with a thoughtful glow. Her thoughts were becoming jumbled again. She wasn't sure if it was better for her to yell at Noven for being so petching blunt, or if she should just obediently go to sleep as she was told. It made conversation difficult, as part of her was more than ready to stalk over and take what she wanted, while the other part was adamantly against it. Whatever will conflicted with hers, it hadn't quite lost yet. The more she thought about things, however, the weaker it seemed to become.

With more effort that she would have liked, Keene shuffled towards the fire, settling down before it and shifting under the jacket as if she were cold. The weather of the island was far warmer than the Zeltivan winters, however, and she was hardly chilled. It was simply an excuse to grow closer to him, her own desires winning out against those that conflicted with her as she grew more and more comfortable. There was no reason to be prim and proper. They were in the wilderness and they were the only two living souls for a good bell's walk in any direction. What happened between the two of them was was would happen. It would be what she wanted to happen. She wasn't weak willed or passive, like some wide-eyed fool. She was a woman. She was strong, passionate, and above all else: she did not deny herself what she wanted. From the small movement to the fire, however, it seemed her body was doing a good enough job of it. There was certainly little hope for her if she stood, and the moment she passed into unconsciousness would be the moment she lost him.

Instead, she raised a brow at him, a suggestive smile curling her lips as she felt the heat of the fire on her chest, the shirt having slipped nearly too far forward as she'd moved. "Or we could do something more interesting." Whatever the transformation, there was little else that remained of Keene's self from before but memory. The woman who sat across the flames, brows raised in invitation and sly smile upon her lips was hardly the initiate from the bells before. She was, in essence, something new - or at the very least something different. The coldness of Keene's eyes and tone had melted with the rise of the flame; the discipline exchanged for desire and the distance closed by Keene's own approach. She was still weak, but it was hardly anything more than physicality at that point. A small trail of hair slipped from the messy hold, drifting into her face as she tilted her head, eyes expectant and unabashed as they slid from Noven's face and down to his hands and behind them before rising to meet his eyes again. "Your call, foxy boy." At that point, Keene's voice had found it's own flame, a heady heat that hung on the smooth melody of her voice, the humor of her little jest twinkling in her eyes. The potion had taken its toll.

[Noven]

The man gaped openly. Krysus...she had rolled onto her side and was staring at him in earnest now. Nov couldn't figure out which was more unsettling: the fact that this new version of Keene was eyeing him like she'd rather be in his lap than on the ground, or that he was growing less and less adverse to the idea.

It didn't help that she was smiling, either. A lot. Which, according to Noven's increasingly fuzzy memory, was something the old Keene never did. He hadn't even been sure if the Initiate could smile up until now.

Well, clearly she could, on top of laughing, teasing, and generally confusing the hell out of her partner in crime. Lady Keene was quickly proving herself to be as radically different from her male origins as flames were to snow. She was like a coil of rope thrown out to sea, unraveling faster and faster, stopping only when the anchor hit the ocean floor. A part of Noven wondered if anything of Old Keene was even left. It seemed not even her magic had been immune to this transformation.

One thing had carried over for certain, though, aside from the pale skin and initially frigid airs. There was still an intensity, a quiet fierceness to Keene's gaze. Except now it was directed solely at the mercenary and blazing with far more heat than their meager fire.

The Initiate propped herself up to a sitting position, pulling Nov's jacket around her narrow shoulders. She beat him to any attempts at protesting and assured her companion she felt better now. Only, she also proceeded to suggest his watching had aided in her recovery, and then topped it all off with a coy wink. He wanted to clarify that the kind of watching he'd meant was not...he hadn't...godsdammit, there was no point in trying. She'd known exactly what he meant and said what she'd said anyway. For a moment, Noven wondered if he was dreaming. This couldn't be right...couldn't be real. It had to be a figment of his imagination. His confounding, twisted im--

Keene was talking again, though more seriously this time. It led Nov to believe he might've been wrong for all of two ticks before he was dunked right back into stupefaction. He was not imagining things. This was real. The achingly pretty, vulnerable creature before him had just called him 'fine' and was now blushing. And by fine, he was certain she did not mean the lukewarm, "you're alright to me old buddy old pal" sense of the word. He was thick, but not that thick.

"I--"

Lady Keene was not done. Now she was suggesting she do the watching, which Nov felt compelled to point out that she was doing plenty of already. Whatever had delayed this blossoming of willfulness and desire, the Initiate was making up for in swift strides, her eyes feeling as though they were searing straight through his careworn clothes. Noven couldn't remember ever feeling quite this exposed whilst fully clothed. He'd entertained the company of gangsters, slavers, rapists, and whores, and somehow Keene was having more success in crumbling his iron clad will, piece by giant piece, than all of them combined.

Gods above...she had moved closer, her ragged tunic slipping dangerously low in the process. If there had been any doubt before about the Initiate's intentions, there was no longer a single shred left now. Lips curved in a suggestive smile and eyes trailing straight down to his still-covered groin before rising back to his incredulous eyes, Lady Keene stated in an impossibly husky voice that it was his call, leaving a new nickname as her finishing touch.

Nov almost wanted to turn tail and run, but he couldn't. He was too transfixed by her proximity. Her daring, crystal-blue eyes were like cool fingers dipping into his soul, trapping it there until she'd had her way with him. The man found this concept alien and baffling in its allure. He'd never been advanced upon this openly by anyone other than whores, and even then their presentations had been stilted at best. But Keene...Keene was genuine in her wishes. Her desire for him was as intoxicating as it was unnerving, and there was no denying that if Noven could just toss that nagging little voice of morality out of his mind, he would have the Initiate on her back and knees spread in less than a heartbeat. He wanted it. Needed it. Things had been petched up from beginning to end after Chai's disappearance and every fiber of his being practically screamed to lose himself in the tender warmth of another.

This is wrong, this is wrong! he tried furiously to correct himself. Keene is a Warden Initiate, an ally of the Scars, and the ale is technically, very much impairing his judgment...

He made he mistake of meeting the blond's heated gaze again and lost his entire chain of thought. Nov's heart hammered wildly as his blood rushed straight back below the waistline of his trousers. Why was she doing this? How was she doing this? Who was he again and why wasn't he tearing every last article of clothing off of this female?

Noven's head swam hard enough to render him senseless. It was too much. The fatigue, the fire, the mushrooms, the petching ears on his head and tail on his backside...he was starving now, but for something no amount of food could assuage. His only saving grace was that every time he looked down at his left hand, crimson veins hidden beneath weathered gloves, he remembered that he was cursed. Ironic, as always.

The man struggled to take a single, slow breath before inching closer to his companion. Then he placed his hands on her shoulders, very carefully, very gently, and looked her straight in the eyes. It was hard of course, given their proximity and the intoxicating warmth of her scent. He resisted with every last ounce of will he possessed, mentally telling the four legged beast within him to shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down. This was infinitely harder than just giving in, but there was still one thing he needed to know. He had to be sure. Because if this had anything to do with fungi, he would be a veritable monster for even touching her.

"Keene...tell me truthfully," Nov iterated, trying to remember that air went in first and then out, "Did you eat any of those mushrooms?"

[Keene Ward]

She watched him struggle beneath her gaze, whatever whir of thoughts beneath the poorly veiled incredulity stirred, Keene had him. She knew it not because of confidence in herself or her own body, but because of how much she desired him. Her will and his were one; it was inevitable that he would buckle beneath the force of it, that he would find every path of logical reasoning to end in the same answer. She did not compel him, nor did he her. Instead, it was, in essence, an attraction. Keene did little to fuel it anymore than she already had, playful curve of lip and simmer of gaze were more than enough to hold Noven in his place. She could see her own cravings reflected in his eyes, though his were muddled, near defiant. It was slipping though, slipping at the same rate that Keene's on will to keep herself from lurching forward to tackle him to the ground even at the cost of her consciousness. It was a matter of waiting, of seeing what he would do. She couldn't tell if she or he would break first, but she certainly knew which one she preferred.

For a moment, he looked away, and with the removal of his gaze came a shiver of fear that ran its way through her entire being. Had he bested fate? Had he pulled himself away from something so desperately yearned for by the two of them with a simple lowering of his eyes? Keene let her chin lower some, the fire's heat a winter's chill next to her stare. She wanted him. She wanted to feel him, all of him, to press her body close to his and breath him in. For so long she had denied herself any pleasures, though the reasons were lost to her in the haze of her memories. Loneliness burned within her, fueling the patter of her heart as he longed for the man before her. He was strong, solid, real. There was so much pain in her life, all of it pilling itself upon her every tick that he looked away. He was her escape from it. When he looked at her, he washed the memories away, the sheer need she felt for him was near ludicrous. It was as if every desire of every lost chance that she had passed over out of self-discipline and fear reared their heads at once, their sole focus the man before her. In a way, she wanted to just scream and scream and scream. He was so close, but his physical distance wasn't what separated them. He was still unsure.

When once more their eyes met, Keene poured everything into him: the passion, the fear, the lust, the pain. She shared all of it, her eyes alight with a shine that was almost more than the fire could have created. She spoke without words, through will alone. Choose me, gods damn it all! Keene didn't move. She barely thought. Noven was her sole focus. His skin lit in the most curious of tones against the pale flame of the fire. His own eyes swimming with a cocktail of emotion that was slowly melting into her own. He was on the brink; he was wavering between her world as his, unable to make a decision. She couldn't make it for him, by but the petching balls of every damned deity, Keene could try. And then, he moved. He drew closer to her, his hands delicately pressing onto either side of her shoulders as his eyes bore into hers.

He was so close, just a breath away. She could smell him, his scent filling her sense with the essence of the man before her - his djed, a very very small and quiet voice whispered from the back of her mind. And yet, even so terribly close, Noven still resisted. He still refused to let his foot fall over the line, to take the final step that they both so desperately needed. When he spoke, the strain in his voice was matched only to the amount of restraint the woman exercised over herself to allow him his question. She would answer it, whatever it was, and that would be the end of it. It was no longer a matter of if he would or wouldn't; it was a matter of when, and the when needed to be now.

The question, however, could not have been more hilarious. For a brief moment, the fire within her flickered as her face broke into an adoring smile, eyes twinkling with the mirth of the situation. Had he been keeping himself from her simply because he was worried she wasn't in her right mind? The sentimentality of it lasted only a tick before she realized just how deeply her soul longed to mingle with his. Raising a soft hand that had little issue trailing up his body to rest against the firm line of his jaw, Keene moved her head towards him. Her lips brushed against his as her body drew within a hair's breadth of him. In a soft, longing hush of her voice, she replied, his hair tickling her nose. "Not a bite." Withdrawing just enough so that their eyes easily met, each fire reflected and amplified to the point of an inferno between them. Her fingers, shaking slightly with the effort of keeping herself from shoving him to the ground to claim what was rightfully hers and show him that she was rightfully his, brushed against his lips, stopping at the corner of his mouth where she gently held his chin. A small, quiet gasp of air passed between them, and when she spoke again, it was barely even a whisper, her eyes flashing with a dark, heady spark, "I prefer meat."

[Noven]

When he finally managed to ask his question, the blond before him broke out into a smile so fond, so guilelessly amused that it near wiped Nov's misgivings clear off his mind. He'd seen this smile before, he felt...on a different face, in a different place. They've all looked like this, once. All smiled that same smile. And then they disappear, for good or for worse, never to come back again. It filled him with a mixture of apprehension and enticement and his mind couldn't decide which one to stick with.

Meanwhile, Keene's mirth had turned into longing twice as strong as before. It burned with single minded fervor now, consuming any other emotions that may have lingered, and it was all Nov could do just to keep his hands firmly planted on her shoulders.

The Initiate, however, was restricted by no such discipline. Instead she trailed feather-soft fingertips up along his chest, moving them higher and higher until they came to cup the edge of his jaw. When she moved in to brush her lips against his, Nov found his eyes closing of their own volition. He had to shut out the rest of the world to focus on not losing control. On not giving in. On not thinking about the sweetness of her warmth mingling with his, or how satin smooth her lips felt as they brushed past. His breaths grew ragged with effort as he fought the good fight. But, godsdammit, was Keene not making things any easier.

His physical strength having all but turned to jelly, Nov sat, frozen, as the Initiate's fingers skimmed across his mouth. He fought the strange compulsion to catch the soft flesh between his teeth. Trap it there like some kind of helpless prey. A distant, nagging part of him promptly lamented that his stomach had been empty for far too many bells.

And that's when she spoke those fateful words, eyes glittering with all the dark arousal of temptation most forbidden.

With her admission came images both primal and savage. Of flesh being torn, blood being spilled, and the heart pounding chase of the eater and the eaten. He'd been fantasizing of sinking his teeth into fresh meat since the moment they'd left the Citadel. And now that Keene had brought it up once more, the man found room in his mind for little else other than two types of hunger.

"Petching hell..." Nov rasped as he bent his head to draw in the blond's scent, his face partially buried in her hair and neck. It was too much...he couldn't help himself...couldn't make it stop. Without thinking, without caring, the man turned his head upward along her flawless throat and breathed in deep.

She smelled good. Nuzzling his nose against the curve between her neck and her ear, Noven let his senses roam free. So much to take in. Where to even begin? His grip around her shoulders tightened as he explored farther. At the very top, there were traces of sheepish exhaustion mixed in with her natural, feminine scent. Like a doe-ish animal with every intention of action but no energy left to bolt. Lying underneath was a stirring current of excitement, anticipation, and the earthy, unadulterated lust Lady Keene had come to fully embrace.

An overwhelming urge to move on from smelling to tasting suddenly gripped the merc's awareness. His forehead was now resting against one of her cheeks. He could see her warm, full lips up close and personal, still slightly parted from having just spoken those three bold words. They were as pink and smooth as ripe fruit, and for a moment he couldn't imagine anything would taste sweeter or more succulent. Just thinking about it made him groan hopelessly inward.

Nov shook his head for a tick. No, Keene was friend, not food. Krysus, he wasn't that hungry...

...or was he? How much time had even passed since they'd first fled to these hills? Some flicker of reasoning still survived in the fog of his mind. His grip slackened around her shoulders and Nov managed to move his head back just a fraction. He had a reason for resisting...maybe even two...if he could just...

Noven looked down. Mistake. Big mistake. He'd forgotten that Keene's tunic had slipped dangerously low, and even with the mercenary's jacket draped over her shoulders she made for an altogether rousing sight from this angle.

Mind lost in a haze of too many influences to count, Nov let his hands fall to reach into his coat and grip the Initiate by the hips instead. He had been trying all this time not to let himself be bested, but the mystery brew-induced animal half was winning by a long shot. For reasons now literally within his hands. And in the place of carefully guarded troubles, there was something far more feral shining through his rust colored eyes now. A vicious glint that held less and less 'Noven' as crude yearnings usurped personal traits.

The drives that followed were neither tender nor gentle. He wanted what he wanted and the tantalizing creature before him had made no effort to thwart him. In some twisted part of his present mind, Nov had earned his prize fair and square. He'd done all he could to keep both of them safe. Pulled more than enough of his own weight. And now, there was nothing more he could do. Nothing either of them could do until dawn came and Keene had regained her strength so they could press on.

Only problem was that they had both been worked to a right proper frenzy. It didn't take a genius to figure out what needed to happen next. Whatever they'd be forced to deal with come morning, there was just one current problem to face: how to sate the uncontrollable blaze of desire both of them now shared. Before it burned them to ash from the inside out. The sparks had been lit and they the perfect set of dry, lonely tinder, brought together by sheer ill luck. For all Nov knew, they could be dead come morning. If the Nuits didn't find them first, then surely something else would, assuming they didn't starve to death first. Or, worse, they ended up stuck like this forever. The thought alone was miserable enough to send his mind fleeing back to the present. At least, the man consoled himself, if that did turn out to be the case, they could make due with Keene's apparently large appetite for the carnal...

"Fuck it," he muttered to himself. Nov strengthened his grip and lifted the Initiate right onto his encumbered lap. She was impossibly light and he terribly impatient. "If we die tomorrow, we die happy."

And then he caught her lips in a fever hot kiss, hands roughly drawing her even closer as the last shred of reason shriveled in the wake of a wildfire.

[Keene Ward]

Noven's response sent shivers down her spine, a small sigh of pleasure escaping her lips as she gently ran her fingers through his hair. She breathed in deep to the same rhythm of his own ragged gasps. He was pressed against her, his body so close but not close enough. Her hands trailed down from his head where the ears twitched madly down to around the back of his neck, pulling him as he nuzzled against her. On her hands strayed lower down his back, a mindless massage as she felt the heat of his breath against her, heavy and wild. As his lips passed over hers, Keene leaned into him, thinking she'd bested him at last. To her dismay, he hesitated, his eyes flickering as he pulled back a fraction, their breath mingling between them, impossibly hot and conflicted.

Keene's eyes flashed, her shoulders shifting just enough for her shirt to slip from her shoulder, revealing more of the flesh the man found so tantalizing. She wanted him, needed him, but above all, she wanted him to need her. He responded to the movement, his eyes pulled downwards and the fire set ablaze once more as his hands slid around her body, cupping her hips and drawing her even closer. His movements had changed, much to Keene's excitement. They were more violent, forceful. For half of a tick, Keene felt the smallest hint of uncertainty. There was something in that small moment that seemed off, wrong in someway. With Noven's longing, hardened gaze meeting her own, however, it was lost to desire. As he lifted her onto him, she pressed herself against him, the coat falling from her shoulders as she met his kiss with her own. There was little point of niceties at that point.

Her hands moved to his hair once more, slight frame gently rising and falling against his own sturdy muscles. She gripped the locks, using them as an anchor for her reality as she explored their kiss, eyes burning as she kept them open to watch him. She couldn't not watch him. The way his eyelashes fluttered ever so gently in spite of their actions, the gentle rush of blood through the few veins large enough for her to see, small beads of sweat trailing down the sides of his face. It was everything she wanted and yet everything a wonderful surprise. Keene was the first to break the kiss, pulling back with a throaty gasp before pulling at the man's hair to expose his neck. She pressed her lips against him, tongue running from his collar bone and up to just below his ear where several passionate kisses ensued. Her left hand hand left its place to snake its way up through his shirt to trace the shallow rises and valleys of his chest as she did so.

"If we die tonight," Her voice was breathy, passion flowing easily as she hissed into his ear, her hand whipping from the back of his head to the front of his through, small hands gripping with a surprising strength. "You better be the petcher to do it." The choke was held only until her words left her lips before she threw herself into him, her shirt slipping from her shoulders to fall uselessly about her waste as her hands frantically tugged at the hem of Noven's own ragged clothing, ripping up and over his head in between a series of quick searching kisses. Skin to skin, she wrapped herself around him, hips gyrating with a desperate forcefulness against his own while her hands ran against the lines of his back, her fingers scraping against the smooth, muscled flesh.

Her heart beat against the cage of her chest as if it were trying to escape into Noven's, its rightful place. His heat and sweat mixed with hers, the fire all but forgotten as the warmth of their bodies provided a physical outlet for the raging inferno that had erupted between them. Her hair was everywhere, as wild as her searching desire to explore every inch of her prize. He had succumbed and she with him. There was nothing she couldn't have and nothing she didn't want. Clumsy fingers fumbled with his belt, a frustrated shout as she broke their kiss to curse down at the infuriating buckle. The tick it was freed, she was upon him again, forcing him - though perhaps it were more of an accepted suggestion - to the ground as her hand moved to find a new and equally exciting part of him as eager to meet her as she it. A flash of craving mixed with anticipation flooded her eyes as she grinned down at him, catching at his bottom lip with her teeth.

He was an impossible man. His body flickered in shadows cast but the fire's light, accentuating the muscles and red lines of her aggressive exploration. The sheen of his own eyes burned with a light all their own, a feral, aggressive need that only she could sate. She had both all of the power and none of it at all as she felt the rise and fall of his chest. Leaning down into him, her lips moved along his pectorals, bitting down onto his nipple with a hunger that was almost not that of a lover's need, as she fiddled with her own belt, finding it much easier to remove without sight. Her hands followed the contour of his body, wrapping around his neck as she pulled herself up to him, buckle on her own pants already undone as she slid out of them to lay bare upon him. She could not longer quite determine where she ended and Noven began, the mix of their bodies, the warm press of his tongue against hers, and the heavy, frenzied rhythm of their breath and hearts mixing into the wild dance of savage desire. Breaking free from their kiss, Keene taunted him with her hips, pressing them just above where his pants were loosely still attached to his hips, a sly grin on her features as she raised a brow at him, her hair spread behind her like a mess of a blonde halo glowing eerily in the blue fire's light. She had descended from the realm of Yahal to consort in the carnal pleasures, a fallen champion who wanted nothing more than desecration.

[Noven]

She was watching him, gripping him by the hair, leaving him awash in a fresh wave of helpless desire each time her body brushed against his. Noven couldn't remember why this was wrong anymore. Couldn't even remember where they were and how they'd ended up here. He could only marvel at the strength of her grip, feel every nerve in his body burn under the intensity of her kiss. At some point his gloves had gone missing. He couldn't care less.

Nov had barely a tick's worth of air before he felt Keene's fingers grab a fistful of his hair and yank his head back, exposing his neck.

"Oh gods..."

The man ran out of breathe long before Keene brought her tongue to his skin. He could feel its hot, velvet surface travel all the way from his collarbone to his ear before her lips joined in on the impossibly arousing ministrations. Nov didn't even have thoughts anymore. He was just a starving vessel beneath her unrestrained touch, powerless to do much more than moan in surprise and pleasure at this unexpected display of aggression. Krysus, she was more animal than him now, her hand moving back around to grip the front of his throat as she hissed her final conditions.

The hold was only maintained for a tick, but the length made no difference. Keene's domineering gesture awakened something terrifyingly savage in the mercenary's awareness. It took every last bit of conscious will Nov possessed to keep his hands around the Intiate's hips, gripping hard enough to bruise them. But it was either that, or--

Keene's shirt had completely fallen to her waist. His partner managed to steal only a single, glorious eyeful before his own shirt was ripped viciously over his head. He could scarce catch up with the speed at which Keene was racing, lost in a frantic whirlwind of fabric, limbs, and feverish kisses. The moment he was free he found her body wrapped around his, porcelain softness the perfect complement to his lean hardness. He could feel her pert, round breasts pressed against the flat planes of his chest and the searing heat of her core burning against his with every gyration of her hips.

A frustrated shout broke them from their most recent locking of lips. Nov looked down to see the source of her swearing and his face broke into a ludicrous grin. Always, the stupid, fucking belt. Maybe he should just forego wearing the damned things altogether.

Keene had slowed only for a handful of ticks before she was on him again, pushing him to the ground with startling ease as she ground against the now iron hard strain in his trousers. Nov laid there, pinned beneath her intoxicating weight, unable to do much more than run his hands up along her naked waist and open his mouth in another moan of insurmountable arousal. Had it always felt this good and he simply forgotten, or did the Initiate above him possess even more sorcery that he couldn't understand?

A faint breeze blew across their bared torsos and Nov felt the tingle of pain Keene's forcible attentions had left behind. But he had not a care left to spare for anything other than the feral lust blazing in the blond's eyes. He was transfixed. Held where he was like a prisoner, rendered more and more helpless after each wild grin, each sway of the hips.

When she lowered her head, however, trailing those satin lips of hers across his chest before clamping her teeth down on a part of Noven he'd never had bitten before, that savage compulsion swimming in the back of his mind rose rapidly to the surface again. Except this time, he held it where it drifted, willing it to stay back for just a little longer. Keene was slipping out of her pants now, the creamy vision of her supple, silken thighs sliding into view as she bared herself entirely above him. A wicked smile stretched her painfully lovely features. She'd just broken from their last kiss and had returned to teasing him with her hips, though they were naked now and maddening in their near-complete contact. Her hair billowed out around her like a pale, golden cloud, impossible to re-tame. Her eyes shone like gems in the firelit darkness.

She was beautiful. And she was his.

Now.

Nov relinquished his hold over the bestial urges he'd been trying to quell for the past bell or so. At first, he'd done it for clear cut reasons of morality and practicality. But once Keene had begun her lip locking, flesh biting, shirt tearing rampage, the man's end goal changed. He could have fought for control. He certainly had the brawn to do so and there would have been doubt of his victory. Instead, Nov did something he almost never allowed: he surrendered. It wasn't everyday one came across a woman so fearless and provocative. That, and there was no way he would have given up this breath taking view. Right before his very eyes was Keene in all of her flushed, naked glory, modest but well formed bust heaving with giant gulps of lust-filled air and hips swaying in fiercely sensuous patterns. He had waited for her to play her hand for wholly selfish reasons, enjoying every tick of her carnal reign, regretting nothing.

Now, it was his turn.

Wide, calloused hands moved up the edge of her milky thighs before cupping her rear in his palms. "If it's a petching you want," he panted with an answering grin, suddenly much more lucid than before, "then it's a petching you'll get."

He tightened his grip and with one, swift surge of his upper muscles brought himself back to sitting position. Then he twisted his body, moving his hands to the small of Keene's back as he did, and flipped her onto the ground. Their strengths could not have contrasted more in that moment; she weighing hardly more than a feather, and he overshadowing her entire body with his own. Under three ticks flat their positions had reversed. Now, he hovered above her svelte frame as Keene laid vulnerably on her back.

"You're mine," he growled into one of her ears. He let his lips dragged across her cheek, too distracted to form proper kisses as his hand yanked the belt from his waist and he kicked the encumbering trousers off of himself.

There was no point in waiting anymore. No use in stalling. He needed to take her, right then and there, before the terrible fire raging inside of them exploded. Noven grabbed each of her legs, slid them over his own, and roughly pulled her hips closer to his, pressing himself against her. The sounds coming out of his throat were no longer coherent. His vision swam and he groaned at the contact. He could feel slickness...heat...all drawing him in...

He couldn't hold back anymore. He pushed, slowly, savoring the resistance. After that, he no longer kept record, everything having melded into one heaving, massive blur. Nov tried at first to remember how to be gentle, but it was as if the word had ceased to exist in his vocabulary. At some point he was aware of turning Keene onto her hands and knees before resuming, fingers tangled in her wild, blonde mane as he held her head back enough so he could suck viciously along her shoulder and neck. He may have used teeth. He may even have flared his mark. But whether he had or not, their romp was nonetheless as crazed as it was violent, desperate, and somehow altogether extraordinary. At least one blacked out the moment it was over, possibly even both. Neither would be able to say come morning. If they were even fortunate enough to still be alive by then.

[Aoren]

Keene

Experience

Skill	XP Earned
Investigation	+2 EXP
Leadership	+3 EXP
Intimidation	+3 EXP
Acrobatics	+1 EXP
Planning	+4 EXP
Subterfuge	+1 EXP
Running	+1 EXP
Foraging	+2 EXP
Land Navigation	+2 EXP
Wilderness Survival	+4 EXP
Meditation	+2 EXP
Reimancy	+1 EXP
Seduction	+2 EXP

Lores

•	Lore Earned
•	Life Experience: Being Morphed Into A Woman
•	Planning: Keeping Cool Under Stress
•	Social Nuance: The Impact of Other’s Opinions
•	Social Nuance: The Ache of Loneliness
•	Socialization: Recalling The Feel of Deep Emotions
•	Wilderness Survival (Forest): The Makings of Adequate Shelter
•	Meditation: Focusing Through The Unfamiliarity of Being Morphed

Noven

Experience

Skill	XP Earned
Persuasion	+4 EXP
Investigation	+2 EXP
Intimidation	+3 EXP
Leadership	+2 EXP
Planning	+3 EXP
Stealth	+2 EXP
Tactics	+1 EXP
Unarmed Combat	+1 EXP
Running	+2 EXP
Land Navigation	+2 EXP
Wilderness Survival	+4 EXP
Cooking	+1 EXP

Lores

•	Lore Earned
•	Sahova: A Dreary Place For Pulsers
•	Life Experience: Being Morphed Into An Animal…Sort Of.
•	Overseer Telemeran: A Pompous Corpulent Windbag
•	Escape Plan: The Importance of Staying On The Move
•	Wilderness Survival: What Is Edible, Is Better Than Starving
•	Wilderness Survival: The Importance of Kindling
•	Cooking: Roasting Mushrooms
•	Keene: He Can Actually Smile

Notes :

Whew! There was a lot going on here. If I missed anything, anything at all, please let me know! If you have comments, questions or concerns please approach me at your earliest convenience. Don't forget to edit/delete your request in the request thread!