mapofstars | Say my name like a scripture (Keep my heart beating like a drum)

Say my name like a scripture (Keep my heart beating like a drum)

Skyhold is a quiet, an expectation at this hour, when Liaran approaches it, a lone figure with little more than the pack on his back and the staff in his hand. He needs little more in truth, the Dalish are all used to a hard life and more would only make the trek harder, many miles from the Free Marchers to the Orlesian boarder, all on foot. Halla are sacred, too much to be risked and horses cost coin he doesn't have. Feet are free and they have carried him well enough for the majority of this journey, even if it has taken many months.

But many months had already passed before he had even set out. In truth Liaran had not fully agreed with Istimaethoriel's plan to send Isetriel to this meeting of the humans. She was still a touch too reckless, stubborn as an ox and her tongue could still be biting. It would be better to send him, he had argued, but Istimaethoriel had only shook her head, her own voice as stubborn as it was soft. No, it was a test, to see if Isetriel was truly ready. To see if she would remain with the clan, or if she would be better leaving, seeking her own fortune.

It had been one of the few times Liaran had raised his voice.

But in the end it had mattered little. Isetriel had gone, and he had stayed and Isetriel had been dragged into this mess of human making. Lifted aloft with the title of Herald to their goddess, as if that wasn't a noose. He recalls staring at each mark of her letter home, the words an attempt to reassure, trying to find what was hidden. He knew Isetriel, better than anyone else. Was one of the few she had opened up to, and he knew, even if her words didn't say it, she was scared. Terrified, probably and that was enough to make his decision. Istimaethoriel could accept it, or she could learn to understand it, but he wasn't staying here, waiting for more news. He would go, see how she was at the very least.

Now, standing at the gates to this ancient keep her wonders if he should have sent a letter. Maybe, he thinks as he gives his name to the guard, makes his request. "I'm here to see the Inquisitor," he says, the title strange on his tongue. Here to see Isetriel, but no that is her name, a name he isn't sure she's shared with these shems and he won't give it till he's sure. And they march him up the stairs to wait in this great hall as they fetch her, it's late, she'll probably be sleeping they say and he has a moment of regret but no. It's worth waking her and Liaran nods, taking a seat on the stairs before this ridiculous throne. It's fine. He'll wait.

He'll always wait.

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It was a great task that the shems had placed upon her, a task that she had begrudgingly accepted in both knowing there had been no escape, and that perhaps this was the best way to truly show her worth. For the sake of Elvhenkind, and for the sake of proving her potential to her Keeper. This is only a part of the test that has been thrust upon her, and she would do right to remain. While Isetriel found absolutely no fondness in the title such an agreement had given, the friends she had made were relying on her. To abandon them, to disappoint... It would crush her.

In that acceptance, she has come to recognize Skyhold as a second home, despite the painful sickness she felt for the clan she had essentially left behind. Not a day passed that she hadn't thought of Istimaethoriel or Liaran... The only two who seemed to carry the hottest torch of hope for her. Liaran especially. His name had often echoed in the dreams she experienced, even with her connection to the veil. Her conscience seemed to wish sharing a reminder of who she left, even in the midst of reliving history or memory. Her magic had gotten stronger, as had her control, and it was in that polishing that she often thought of what Liaran might say to that. He would be proud, she thought. Often. And surely when she would sit in judgement upon her throne, she somehow wished he would be standing among the crowed, bearing that gentle smile she held so highly.

"You've a visitor, Your Worship," she hears, a deep voice of her guard that pulled her from slumber so quickly.

A visitor? At this hour? Surely, Josephine would have advised her ahead of time so she might not have fallen asleep. Ah, but she had been so forgetful in the midst of everything being spoonfed to her so harshly. They were in the middle of a war, and it had proven difficult to keep track of everything.

She changed out of her sleeping gown quickly, buttoning the ornate top and bottoms she had been so thoughtfully adorned in many times before. Her clothing suggested her rank and her influence among the humans who bore hope in her. Who addressed her as their Herald when she had so many times rejected the title. But it was important all the same.

Her feet took her down the stairs and into the hall, where her hand brushed along the arm rest of her throne and she stopped. Bewildered. The flash of blonde hair and the vein-like vallaslin that adorned the tall man standing at the foot of the steps belonged to none other than the man who often visited her dreams.

"... Liaran? What are you--"

No. No, this is another dream.

He doesn't mind this hall he decides. It's a nice once, though he can see where old stone has been matched with new. And quiet at the hour, a fire crackling down at one end, tables and benches bare of both food and people. It must be a busy place in the daylight hours, people bustling about and he wonders if she likes it to. Or does she have other parts of this keep that she finds herself home in. Has she been able to make it a home at all, he wonders. Isetriel always was stubborn in her own ways, prickly and often pushing people away. Has she been doing so here?

He hopes not. He hopes she has made some sort of friendship, and Liaran frowns, considering the gossip that he has heard. There are some of the people here, surely she has made friends with the-

Liaran she says and in an instant he is on his feet, whirling around. Travelling has left him a little in want of a bath, hair loose in it's tie and his staff still sits strapped to his back. He hasn't had a chance to look more presentable he realises, too concerned with seeing her but he can't bring himself to care too much as he meets her gaze, hope alighting in his eyes as he steps up one step.

"Isetriel. You're..." Alive, but no he knew that. Fine, but no he can't be sure about that. There's actually little he can think to say, mindful of the guards still in the hall, watching him carefully and their Inquisitor curiously and he should be careful, shems play their emotions like games don't they, but she's here, his other half and he can't help the way his arms fall open, his face softening as he looks at her with love, hoping she will come to him.

"Isetriel..."

Isetriel rather detests that nothing seems to end at the sun setting, often finding herself awoken by conversations that happen just down the stairs to her quarters. Her sleep is important, rest being something she often goes to when she is sad or angry, able to feel anew once her eyes open again. But that hasn't happened, and has certainly become a luxury in the midst of war. She understands, truly, but it isn't what she wants and that won't change.

Suddenly? None of that matters anymore. Isetriel is wide awake, energy overtaking her when she can fully register that he is truly before her. She takes a step forward, slow and hesitant, but when his arms open for her she quickly forces herself into a run.

"Creators, Liaran!"

There is nothing else to say. Not now, and certainly not when she needs to feel for certain that he is real. Isetriel runs fast, arms wide before she comes crashing into him with a brute force despite her small and rigid frame. Isetriel cares not for what it makes her look like among those who remain in the hall, and certainly not to the guards. If they come near him, she will stop them, caring little what they find as proper.

Quickly, her face buries itself into his chest, reminded of how much taller he is than her. How solid his frame is against hers. And she squeezes him tight, not even noticing that tears so quickly pool and flow from her bright eyes.

"You're here. You're truly here, you came all this way, and..."

He takes the blow that is her body with practiced ease, legs bracing himself and his arms are quick to close around her, to hold her tightly to him. He's never been one for big displays of his feelings, always preferring something quieter, something more private but it's been months, months in which he's thought she's died more than once. A moment of affection in public is worth it and he holds her tightly, chin resting on the crown of her head as if he can hide her from the world.

"I'm here," It's simple words to say, and he says them softly, letting his arms tighten to show the affection he feels. Creators he has missed her, the sound of her voice, the smell of hair and he breathes in deep, eyes closing as her presses his cheek to her hair. "I came, of course I would."

He won't break the hug, not when she clearly needs it so much. Let her have this hold, if it's what he can give her. It's worth it even with the people still about, openly gawking at the embrace. Fuck them he thinks quietly as his hand runs down her back, soft and soothing and he breathes in deep again, nice and even for her to copy as he holds her. "I'm here."

A man of few words, something she takes note in so quickly. It's a part of him that she never thought she would miss such a quality that often frustrated her. Liaran has always been quiet, collected, far different than herself when she often used words to better cope in compromising positions. But his short words speak far greater to her, and she commits to memory how this feels. The display she makes is far from becoming as Inquisitor, but she can't help it. For months, she had been horrified and uncomfortable, forced to send letters assuring her clan that she was fine and content with where she had ended up.

It was all a lie. And Liaran must have known, because why else would he come here had he truly believed she was fine?

Her hands ball into fists into his coat, and she inhales the smell of just him, his natural aroma coated in the elements that have kept him company through the long journey. Isetriel's tears flow harder in knowing just how far he has gone to get here.

For now, she says nothing of her fear and her feelings, she just pulls back a touch. Sniffling, she looks up at him through glassy eyes and tears that flow freely down her face.

"But... Why? How long have you traveled? What of the Keeper? There is no way she willingly let you as First."

In disbelief, she shakes her head.

"Why are you here?"

Edited 2016-02-05 01:45 (UTC)

He lets her cry it out, standing there, slowly stroking over her back. She needs it, he can tell. He's always been able to tell, ever since they were children, both training at the same time. He can ready her moods like others would read a map and knows when to hold tight and when to let her go. Even as her tears soak his shirt, even though he knows he must stink of the road he holds tight, humming softly for her only to hear.

"It's alright," he murmurs in their half lost tongue, words few will know. A mask of privacy from shem years as he squeezes her. "I'm here, it will be alright." It would have also been alright even if he hadn't come, he's sure. She is after all, stronger than she looks.

But he's glad he did come, even as he loosens his hold to let her pull back. Shifts so he can run a thumb over her cheek, brushing away tears as he shrugs.

"Why wouldn't I? Awhile." Another shrug, Liaran always concise. "She knows where I am. That I needed to come." And she had let him, in the end. Better to let him go freely than find herself losing two apprentices after all. This way at least he may come back.

Softly he sighs, brushing her tears away once more before he presses a kiss to her brow. It's almost family like, or it would be if he could pretend the feelings he has for her are platonic, that as much as he's tried to deny it he's always loved her back.

"Because I wanted to be here for you."

Simple, concise. The truth.

She lets him, revels in the way his strong hands wipe away her tears. The rest of the room fades away, leaving only them, where there is comfort and safety in not only his voice, but their native tongue that falls like honey from his lips. Isetriel finally lets out a chuckle, both at the way he speaks to her and how short he is. It's frustrating, but while they are in the middle of a crowd? She knows that he prefers little words for the sake of privacy.

There are so many questions to ask, so much she wants to say. Not a single day has passed without thinking of him, without reminding herself of how deep her love goes for this man. This man who has given more patience than anyone in their clan, who has stood strong in any face of adversity and she feels like he would do a far better job at this than her.

For a moment, she is silent, letting his words sink in as she takes a hand to cup over his that touches her so fondly. Isetriel leans into his kiss, wanting so much more but knowing it won't happen here. Again, she sniffles, her smile crooked and awkward as she takes his hand from her face and laces their fingers together.

"Come. We should... We should catch up somewhere less crowded."

Quickly, she waves in dismissal to those that still stare wildly at them. Without word, Isetriel leads him through the doors to the castle's quarters and up the stairs to her large, ornate room.

"You must be exhausted, weak, I--" Isetriel stutters in her words, still feeling her heart pound and it shows in how her hands shake. She whirls around to face him once they are safely away from everyone in her room, at the top of the stairs adjacent to the couch.

"Are you injured in any way? Are you hungry?"

He smiles down at her, small as the expression is. He knows she'll understand it, will know just how relieved he is to see her here, unmarked and unharmed. That she truly is alright it seems and his heart aches with his relief as she takes his hand. As he laces her fingers with hers, his grip tighter than it usually would be because he needs this as well. This hold to just reassure him again that she's okay, she's alive and well and he nods, only half listening to what she says.

Following her, he makes note of the door they go through, always half thinking of a way to escape. It's unsettling after all to be inside something clearly so human, but she knows the way, quite well it seems and that eases some tension out of him. But his grip still stays strong, right until she pulls her hand free and his hand feels so empty, cold without her touch.

"I'm fine," he says quickly, old habits to always reassure someone. To not make himself the focus and instead he pays attention to her hands, the way they shake. Gently he takes them both, pressing them together with his own to hold them in place and his smile is fond as he shakes his head.

"Really, I'm fine, Is." For a moment his smile grows, the only show of his amusement. Of his relief. "I... could probably do with a bath I suppose, but I'll be okay. I had to see you first." He sighs, eyes closing as he bows his head towards her, pressing forehead to forehead as he repeats himself. "I'm fine now."

Isetriel feels understandably frantic, especially knowing just how long it must have taken for him to get here. Of course, he's very skilled in his magic and obviously took care of himself. But he was alone, came all this way for her sake...

Knowing that makes her face glow a deep shade of pink, a flush that glows against alabaster skin and brightens the vallaslin adorning it. He stills her trembling so skillfully, hands so strong and welcoming despite how calloused they are from travel. Liaran's smile is comforting and beautiful, and she is lost in it until his forehead presses against her own. Once more, her eyes close, and she lets him keep her hands for as long as possible.

"I... As am I," She says, smiling brighter, "You've no idea how much I missed you."

She could go on for hours, and there is still so much to say. But he mentions the need for a bath and her heart is still pounding so hard. Everything is so overwhelming, the reminder of home solid and holding her and... She can't help but cling to that.

Isetriel chuckles as she quickly steps back, taking his hands into her own.

"Yes. A bath. Of course. You smell awful," She smirks and quickly takes lead again.

"I do have an apparent reputation to uphold now. It's clear we are close, you can't be here in such a state."

And this is a perfectly good excuse to show off her personal wash room. Which is close to her quarters, decorated with the finest linens and stone. It's hardly what they are used to as elves, having bathed in the cold river not too far from their settlement.

No. This is a large room, quiet save for the echoing sounds of water in a tub. Her servants had actually filled the tub prior to her laying down, where Isetriel had skipped her bath tonight. All it needs is some warmth.

"Here. You're in for a treat, actually."

She ushers him inside, gesturing to the bath. While they have yet to catch up, it is important he is comfortable and clean first.

He could stay here for hours too. Just standing here, her hands warm between his own, her brow solid against his. She's always had a hard head after all, and the though flits through him with some amusement. But it's nice, to just be here with her, hearing her breathe and sharing her breath and he could truly just stand here all night if it came to it, Liaran only seeming to stir when she speaks again.

"I have some," is all he'll say, and really that says more than enough. He's missed her just as she's missed him and for once he can allow himself to be honest in that. A strange thought really, he's spent so long denying his feelings towards her, forcing them into boxes with labels that don't fit but... but he almost lost her. He almost lost her and he never told her the truth. Never even kissed her like he wanted to and if that wasn't a kick in the pants then nothing would be.

He considering it, in truth when she pulls back, but the moment dies when she speaks. Not that her teasing is unwelcomed, and Liaran snorts softly, fondly as he follows her again.

"It's not as if it was on the forefront of my mind coming here. Speed seemed like a better plan, rather then stopping to bathe every day." A small shake of his head, even as she takes him to this room, brow raising as he realises what it is, and she's right, he is a little stunned by it. "A little dirt... never hurt anyone.."

The words are slower with his surprise, until he falls silent completely, looking around. He's no child, he won't show his awe so easily but it's hard not to stare, to marvel at the linens and the little bottles of, something, soap he thinks, that sit on the edge. At the tub, sunken into the floor and big enough to easily fit half a dozen people in it, and comfortably so, more than enough space for two his brain traitorously supplies and he tears his gaze up, back to her.

"All this is yours?" Surely not, surely it must be communal but there's only one door, and that leads back to her room. At least he assumes the room is also hers. Another strange thought.

The title is heavy, as is the surroundings that keep her here. As beautiful and lush as they all are, it isn't what she is accustom to, and that fact will never change. She misses the small cots that could easily be packed away, tents and worn pots over flickering embers. The sheets of her bed are warm and fluffy, but give no restful sleep than the knit blankets she had shared with her clan, with Liaran so many times before.

But perhaps... Now that he is here? She can enjoy its spoils for once, if he would be so wonderful as to share with her. While there is expectation that they will escape together, she can't help but be excited to share her riches.

"Strange, isn't it?"

She quickly shuts the door behind them, then takes a moment to walk past Liaran to the bath.

"I refused, actually. All of this... It all happened so fast."

But they can discuss this later. Liaran's comfort is the most important, even if his bewilderment brings some satisfaction to Isetriel. For now, she is keen to revel in the happiness she feels that he is here. She will treat him well as her guest, as the one she cares for who walked so far just to see her.

Slender fingers drag along the rim of the tub until they come to the center. Her eyes meet with Liaran's, smirk still in place. She has come so far, she can't help but wish to show him.

Her hand lifts from the bath, hovering before she takes yet another step, this time in the direction opposite of it. It starts with a gentle wave, then a flick of her hand where she summons flames to gently cradle the bottom of the tub. Isetriel has firm control of it, the flames staying in place and effectively warming the waters to a comfortable temperature.

The man standing before her knew Isetriel to be a failure at flame, having witnessed so many mistakes. She hopes to make a point with that stunt.

"But I'm willing to share."

It's a luxury few would ever experience. Especially an elf, a Dalish one to be exact. This wasn't their world, never would be and creators she must be so lowly. So far away from all that she knows, all that she ever had and a part of him wants to pull her close, hold her tight and let her pretend for a moment that she had never left for this stupid conclave. That nothing had ever changed.

Instead he lets her wander, watching her trail her fingers over the bath and he can imagine what it would feel like, her hand trailing over his skin. Can imagine the callouses on her fingers from working with her staff, and how reverently she would touch each of his scars. Just like he would worship all of her own and he swallows thickly, forcing such thoughts down but it's hard when she smirks like that and the room already feels warmer before she even calls up the flames.

"Is..." He is impressed, and he doesn't try and hide it. Liaran knows better than any how much she's always struggled with flame, even small ones. Her control has always lacked, no matter how much she practices, small sparks always risking turning into bigger blazes. But now it seems like she's learnt her control and he steps forward, his smile a proud one as he dips a finger into the warming water.

"You've gotten better," he says, as if that can hide the flush to his cheeks at her suggestion of sharing. Creators, she's always moved fast, never even tried to hide the way she's wanted him. Even now, with him ready to face his feelings honestly he doesn't know how to do it. Not as openly as she does and instead he swallows, looking at the water instead. "I'm impressed Isetriel."

Her heart skips a beat at his smile and his approval, feeling an immediate sense of nostalgia to it. Isetriel's smirk shifts back to a soft smile, eyes brightened despite how slightly reddened they are from crying. She looks to her hand, clenching it and unclenching it.

"Being here... Even if I don't feel quite like I belong, the purpose of it all forced me to learn. I've learned so much in the last few months."

Isetriel lowers her hand as she walks towards Liaran, a thoughtfulness to her smile as she reaches out to him. Nimble fingers begin to work on his coat, unbuttoning it before she makes short work of his shirt.

"I owe it all to you, you know."

Her eyes meet with his, the palms of her hands flattening against his chest as they slowly rise up to his shoulders. Isetriel presses herself against the significantly taller elf, reaching behind him to grasp his staff. But she lingers, slows herself in removing it from his back. Her lips hover a mere inch from his, neck craned to accommodate their height differences.

"I feel I can only become stronger now that you are here."

His gaze shifts to her hands as soon as he notices her shift, paying attention to the way she clenches it. The mark, he'll have to look at it later, study it a little more if he can. If she's okay with it but right now is about reunions. Not research, and slowly he manages to look back up, turning slightly as she comes back to him, the bath at his back, almost trapping him.

"At least... at least there has been some benefit to it all." Something you could almost consider worth it all and Liaran swallows, aware just how close she is before she even touches him. So close, and it's been so long.

He freezes a little when her fingers start on his buttons, throat bobbing as he swallows. "Is," He starts, eyes wide and he's a man grown, had his vallaslin for over a decade but she's working his coat and shirt off, revealing more and more pale skin to her eyes, small flicks of scars here and there from a typical Dalish life. A bruise to his side from his travelling and he swallows, meeting her eyes because watching her hands will only make his cock twitch again.

"Y-You don't own me anything." He swallows, throat thick and Creators her hand on his chest feels good, his heart racing as she leans against him, mouth so close. "You did it all... all yourself."

He can't do this. Not anymore and the last shred of his control snaps, Liaran surging forward. Hands find her hips, anchoring her against him and she can probably feel him half hard against her hip but he doesn't care, mouth meeting hers with as much finesse as he can manage as he lets his hunger, his need consume him. He's wanted to kiss her since he saw her there, alive, healthy in the hall and fenedhis, he's not sure how he managed to wait, her mouth soft and warm against his, enough to pull a little groan from him.

This is a first. Certainly not expected of Liaran, considering how many times he has spurned her advances. She always understood why; it was wrong, inappropriate, knowing his position as First and her as a potential Second. He had trained her since she was young, held himself responsible for her many mistakes. To allow themselves to give in to carnal desires and maintain something romantic would likely cause issues among their clan. Even if Isetriel hadn't rightly cared, knew her feelings for Liaran for years, she could respect his reasons. However, that never stopped her from teasing or trying.

This time, no... This time he takes her with such force, and her hand slips from its grip on his staff and finds refuge on his shoulder. She nearly loses her balance when he steals her in a kiss, but is immediately thankful for his grasp on her hips. There's an audible squeak that forces itself from her nose as he devours her lips, eyes wide a moment. She can feel his cock hard through his pants, prodding insistently into her and it shouldn't be shocking but it is. She would reflect on his denial of her owing success to him, but her mind is immediately clouded by the lust that takes her quickly.

Isetriel moans into his lips, returning the kiss with equal fervor once she settles into it and allows her eyes to shut. Both hands take to his face, slipping forward and tangling in his hair, removing what ties it back with ease so she can take fistfuls of it.

There had been brief pecks in the past, small little kisses that couldn't be judged as... Anything, really. But this... Oh, this. Creators, she has wanted this for so long, and finally getting it has her stomach bottoming out and her pussy clenching in anticipation, already wet at the prospect of what's to come.

A part of him is still uncertain, still clinging to ideas of duty, of putting the clan first. But with the clan miles away it's an easy voice to ignore, especially with her in his arms. With her reciprocating the kisses with such equal passion, her fingers tangling in his messy hair and Liaran shudders, fingers digging into her hips for a moment, the world near spinning around him as he gasps and breaks the kiss.

"Fenedhis," it's rare to hear him curse but the word slips out, Liaran pressing his brow to hers, his breath already seeming ragged. His eyes stay closed in turn, because he's terrified of meeting her gaze, of her suddenly realising that she's wrong, she didn't want all of this and he can't think, words suddenly on his tongue.

"Ar lath ma."

I love you.

Words he's never said to her, never said to anyone, not like this and the room is silent, too silent as he shudders again. His mouth is dry even when he swallows, even when he wets his lips again and his fingers flex on her hips, eyes squeezed shut because he couldn't bare to see rejection on her face as he repeats himself, softer, slower, less desperately.

"Ar lath ma..."

These last few months have been so difficult, so hard on her mind but suddenly everything falls away. There is this incredible relief she feels, release from the tormenting responsibility on her shoulders. Not only in the company of her long time friend, but in the way he holds her and kisses her so fondly. It's like a dam has been broken, feelings they have never truly taken the time to touch on that thrust forward like violent rapids. Their tongues tangle, lips swollen and wet within seconds, and she doesn't realize she's forgotten to breathe until he breaks the gesture.

Isetriel shivers at the foul language falling off his tongue, the flush on her cheeks burning even hotter when hearing his voice say such words is so unexpectedly attractive. But that isn't what completely shocks her.

She gasps at the three words in their native tongue, three words that stop her and have her eyes opening wide. He keeps his shut, their foreheads and noses pressed together, but when he says it a second time she has to pull her head away far enough to look at him. Her lips are parted, red and swollen still, hungry to kiss him again but she looks at him wide-eyed and flushed.

"Liaran..."

Those three words... She hadn't expected them. Even knowing those feelings had been there, hearing it changes everything.

"I--"

She grasps his face again, desperate to see his eyes open. Her mouth is still agape, head shaking not in disbelief but in shock.

"Ar lath ma... I love you too. Creators, ar lath ma."

Isetriel can't hold it in anymore, certainly not now. She quickly leans forward again, stealing his lips in yet another desperate kiss for fear she might die without it.

He shudders, fingers clenched weakly in the waistband on her pants, something to anchor himself to her. Something he needs especially when she pulls back and he holds himself as if he's expecting a blow, eyes squeezed shut and head bowed because Creators now he feels like he's rushing it, even if she's been obvious in her feelings for years. Maybe they've changed, maybe she met someone else here and the silence eats at him, consumes him as he holds his breath.

"Is..." he starts when he hears his name, and his throat bobs when he feels calloused fingers against his jaw. He's no coward, but he wishes he could be, as he finally opens his eyes, desperation showing in them and time feels as if it's stopped when her head shakes, feels like it's shattered when she speaks and he recognises the words more by the way her lips move in lieu of hearing because the world is ringing around him.

Ar lath ma.

She says the words back, and before he can even sigh with relief or whoop with joy she kisses him again, steals both words and breath from him. But it's fine, he's never been strong with words, keeping them short and meaning them all, and there is little else he can say. Little she surely doesn't know and he gives in, hands sliding around her waist as he steps forward and urges her back till her back meets the wall and only then does he speaks, eyes closed again as he peppers kisses along her jawline because his tongue feels clumsy in his mouth, words stumbling over it.

"I never... I never got to tell you." A shudder and he swallows, silent for a moment while he just holds her to him. "I thought... I feared I might never get to, when we. When we heard."

She has been wanting to tell him that for so long, almost guilty for never having done so. Of course, she had alluded to it a few times, tried to start something between them even knowing the futility of it. Yet here they are, so far from the Free Marches and within the confines of her own quarters, leader of a massive movement where she has been so scared. But now? She feels she could rule all of Thedas, having renewed strength that only Liaran could provide.

Isetriel's own attention goes blurry in the kiss, suddenly finding herself against the wall and pinned by the taller elf. It's exciting, unexpected, and she shivers in anticipation to realizing what it implies, what that prodding need confined in his trousers promises. Her hips roll into his, eager and wanting while she bears her throat to him and his incredible kisses. Isetriel moans, gasping when his lips drift over a sensitive nerve.

"Ah... I could have waited an eternity." She's breathless, helpless to his intentions yet hoping he continues with this newfound passion, finding she rather enjoys this side of him.

"I wanted so much to write you personally, to tell you how terribly I missed you, but I-- Ah..."

She speaks between his gestures, finding it hard to focus where a moan interrupts her often.

"Fenedhis, I want you, Liaran. I need you now."

Fuck, she feels so good against him. Better than his imagination ever could, better than any desire demon could tempt him with. She's real, soft and firm against him, a perfect fit and when her hips roll against his he shudders, breath catching in his throat and arms tightening around her waist. Fenedhis, she feels good and he finds himself achingly hard, much to his embarassment.

They're moving too fast, maybe. A confession of love is one thing but. This. It's late, she's probably sleep deprived and he's still on the thrill of finding her okay. And Creators, sure, he wants her, wants this, can imagine so easily the feel of her thighs around his hips, what it would feel like to fuck her against this stone but. He... they should thinking about this, maybe and it's with great pain that he pulls back with a little gasp.

"I-" He stutters the word, cheeks flushed and hair mussed and Liaran swallows, unable to stop looking at her. Her kiss swollen lips, the little red mark a nip of his teeth have left on her jaw, the way she's breathing so heavily and fuck he can feel his cock twitch. It's embarrassing to say the least as he swallows, searching for something to try and give them a moment to just think about this all. "I should... bathe."

Fuck, no, that's a terrible idea, just an excuse for bared skin and seeing her naked body again and he finds himself flushing darker with a soft groan, spinning around and his hands find the edge of the bath, Liaran leaning against it.

"I mean... I don't. I don't want to rush this, Isetriel." No, he wants it to be worth it. Wants to treat her like she deserves, at least for the first time, and that doesn't include rutting against a wall like beasts.

Her heart is pounding so hard and fast, and she's certain the beating could be visible even through her clothing. The feel of his hot breath brushing against her wet lips is too incredible, too satisfying, but it's not enough. What she would give to feel his naked body against hers, his cock hard and deep inside of her. And it seems so close to being possible, but he backs away and leaves her deeply releasing a shaken exhale.

Bathing... Yes, that was their initial intention. Though they have bathed together before, it was a common practice already among their clan. They've seen each other nude before, but not in a setting such as this. With passion and love being on the table for both to see.

It's painful when he breaks away from her, and Isetriel is quick to follow him and meet him at the edge of the bath. She is absolutely used to him turning her down, often while he is obviously uncomfortably aroused. But those moments occurred when she had started it. Now that Liaran has initiated it and made his intentions true, she can't simply let him walk away.

Isetriel laughs, leaning so she might see his face. "I'm not certain if your patience bears strength the likes of a druffalo or if you are a fool."

One hand takes to his, the one resting at the bath while the other takes to his face, ushering him to look at her.

"Only the creators know how many years I've practically spread my legs for you as an offering and you have turned away. What's to stop us now? I love you, Liaran. Whether we share that love against a wall, in a heap of filth, or in my bed, I will find it perfect."

Her adrenaline is still pumping far too much for her to back down, and she quickly slips herself between the bath and him. She reaches for the button of her own top, making short work of the first few.

"Or do you wish to see me beg?"

Edited 2016-02-05 04:50 (UTC)

He tries to think of other things, running mentally through what he recalls from their lessons. History and lore, herbs and spells, everything they must remember so the old ways aren't lost. Anything, to try and get himself under control, to calm his breathing and ease the stiffness in his cock as he stares into the water, corner of his lips turning up when she speaks, so close to him again.

"One of us had to learn patience." Not that he ever really had to learn, but really. He's the counterbalance to her, the shadow to her mirror and he knows many have found it funny, their roles and their chosen vallaslin. Just another mark on how much of a match they are he supposes, as he turns to face her, smile soft as he leans into the touch.

"I want it to be right, Is," To fit all that he's wanted to give her, to show her just how much he's always adored her. For it to be perfect and once that would have been a nice soft patch of grass, somewhere secluded. Now she has a bed, and surely that means he should take advantage of it, make their first time even better as he presses a kiss to her palm before her hand slips away. "You're no.... offering, to just be taken. You're more, so much more, Ma vhenan."

But she's undoing her shirt and really, he's only an elf. Only a mortal, and he lets her slip in front of him, arms bracketing her as he grips the tub and he chuckles, a rare sound as he presses his brow to her cheek, eyes half opened to watch from this odd angle as she revels more and more skin.

"Please, let me bathe at least. I doubt you want to taste the filth of travel on my skin."

Ma vhenen... Creators, the way he says that. As if it is so natural, so necessary. Isetriel's face flushes an even brighter shade, despite the deviousness that remains in her smile. It softens a touch at the nickname, however, and she can't help but feel flustered to it. If he so wishes for it to be perfect, then so it shall be. It isn't just for her, but she recognizes his selflessness for what it is, content that he is simply here.

She can't help but chuckle at his reply, knowing full well that he has always been her opposite counterpart. Liaran was always calm, calculated, and that has never changed. He's successfully talked her out of many brawls, and she almost wishes he could have been here sooner. She's handled so many fights on her own, and it would be a wonder to see how he could have reacted to the decisions she has made. Many were made in hopes of him catching word, of him being proud of her. He is, after all, her soulmate. Regardless of distance.

Still, she presses on. Even with the slight rejection, there is a glimmer of hope for after their bath. And he can absolutely count on her joining him for that. Isetriel loosens her final button before her top drapes off her shoulders and effortlessly slides from her arms and to the floor. She heard him, really, but surely he didn't think she wouldn't at least go for some foreplay.

"It never occurred to you that I may like it that way?"

She hums, chuckling in her throat as she leans forward to steal yet another kiss. It is brief, lingering just long enough for her to get back to work on his clothing. Isetriel reaches back and removes his staff, leaning it against the tub before working to push off his coat.

"I promise, I am only here to make sure you don't drown in my tub."

"You're the one that said I stink." He points it out in her usual no arguments tone, brow raised even as he leans down to meet her kiss. This is nice, this little intimacy of itself, where he can talk and tease her like he always has, but steal a kiss instead of denying himself such treats. He likes this, regrets the way she pulls away to continue helping him out of his clothes, his gaze momentarily dropping down her chest.

It's silly, he's seen her nude before, bathed with her. She's made a game of it before, seeing how slowly she could strip down, always catching him staring when he hadn't meant to be. But now with her standing here between him and the bath, in her breastband and trousers he's captivated, mind moving slower than ever has he shrugs coat and shirt off into a puddle on the floor.

"I'm sure that's all." A soft snort and he shakes his head, kissing her brow again as his hands find her hips, find the button to her own pants and he undoes it, gentle and slow as he tugs them down. "Nothing else could interest you of course."

His sarcasm is a softer sort than hers, a gentle teasing and he soothes the words further with his kisses, brushing them over her cheek bones as her pants slip down and creators, she's almost bare to him again, Liaran swallowing thickly, his words a mumble, "Creators, you're beautiful..."

"Perhaps I like how you stink," Isetriel argues with yet another chuckle, snorting before she realizes how ridiculous that sounds. It slipped from her, truthfully, and she's fully aware of how unattractive that may have appeared.

"I mean--" No, no there is no taking it back. Isetriel wrinkles her nose at that thought, but the expression is quickly abolished when he kisses her again.

She does, however, catch him staring at her chest, and it has her humming thoughtfully. Isetriel does much the same to his pants as he does to hers, making short work of the button before letting them drop into the heap they have created. And she is just about to make a devious remark of his staring, but his words stop her. Her lips part, eyes wide when they look to him. It isn't that he has never complimented her before, but... In this setting, this light, it shocks her. As if she has never heard it before.

Those three words changed everything so quickly, enough to give her whiplash. But there is shock and surprise in this that she has never felt before, a new feeling that brightens the darkness that has shrouded her in his absence. The Isetriel before all this might have teasingly worked at her breastband while staring at him. The Isetriel now can't bear to tease when he so fondly speaks of her.

"And so are you..." She replies, her words as soft as his own. Almost at a whisper.

Isetriel takes his hands, guiding them to her chest to let him take care of the remainder of her garments. The smirk to her expression melts away, fondness in her gaze when she reaches down to gently pull down his underwear.

"I've missed you so, Liaran. So much."

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