Seeking

Shalia was taken off guard by the suggestive comment, so much so that if she hadn't been as determined to understand the Brotherhood better that she may have missed it. She swallowed down a large gulp of wine with a smirk. Her cheeks flushed, whether from the drink or the gesture she did not care. Her questions could wait. This certainly could not.

"How bold of you. And here I was trying to play it coy…" She brushed her hair over her shoulder and stood, in the process a hand carefully pulling the tie of her robe apart. It was clear she had nothing beneath.

Shalia had not only come seeking answers. She just wasn't sure if it would get there naturally.

She stretched in a slow manner, fully intended for show. He made no effort to hide his lust at her vanity, either. She wanted to be seen so dearly, admired, worshipped. It was wanted this time, not some passing glance by a guard or an Aghul.

She looked down to her glass suddenly. Ah, fuck it. Already halfway there!

She lifted it to her lips once more and drank down the rest in one sweep, tossing the glass down so hard it cracked under the impact and the temperature from her palms. A droplet ran from the corner of her mouth, over her chin, and gradually downward as she moved toward him. The set up was fun, of course, but it was a bit of a surprise that he had been so forward. People did have their deepest desires.

It has been so long...

"If you will have me, then I suppose I will take you for myself then, hmm?" The witch purred. Hunger within her grew. Who would take the first bite? She licked her lips.

Tamazzalt stood suddenly and pulled her body close to his, meeting her in a deep kiss. They could still taste the fresh wine from one another. A shiver ran through him at the coldness of her porcelain skin, the embrace of pure winter, the exhilarating feeling of snow and something new that read as forbidden.

She was drowning in the touch, pulling away briefly. The sudden bliss of something so foreign as intimacy, passion. It was never the same on her own. One of Shalia’s hands fell down the man's torso and untied his robe, feeling toward his thigh. She looked into his eyes with firm grip on a handful of his long hair. What they saw then, they would never forget. Both saw longing. Saw two individuals carrying the weight of Arcadia’s future, biding their time until they could take real action. Kindred spirits. Unspoken truths.

"Let us just be our names--no titles, none of it. Let us exist as people…and feel what people do." She whispered the last part in Ozainae.

Tamazzalt nodded quickly with shaky breath, but grinned. "Just you and I."
Exactly what he desired. To break free from everything for a moment. A moment that he didn't need to be The Ascendant, and for a time she did not have to be the Voice of Winter. Two people at the mercy of pleasure. But this tasted better than any booze they could drink. And to him this moment, she was the most beautiful thing in the world. Greater than any war victories or leadership.

Their prompt return to a kiss was a confirmation, a seal of sorts.

A pleasant distraction like no other. Nothing else but them and this room. A place where they could surrender power and feel like real people, not pieces in a game.

Shalia moaned sharply when his mouth met her neck. The kisses moved down to her chest, lapping up the faint streak of wine. He whispered something sweet onto her skin soon after.

It was not long before both of their robes fell to the floor...