[private] I haven't come to say I'm sorry; Karaugh

[Rhonen]

rhonen

molten eyes and a smile made for war

One minute they are watching each other, one set of dark eyes suspicious and the other cunning, and then she has moved. Rhonen isn’t expecting it, and so he does not move out of range before the mare is touching him, warm skin against warm skin. Body to body, and he stiffens in surprise, going very still, and then forces himself to stay that way.

Because the alternative is to lean into her, to seek the warmth that he has been missing since he woke up one day, curled around his twin, and decided to go adventuring and never saw her again. No one since has touched him like that – full body touching, wrapped around, intimate in its very existence.

He should lean in, perhaps nip lightly, and have some sort of witty comeback. He wants to, but he can’t quite manage. And he refuses to melt into her like a child with no self-control, and so he holds himself very still, nearly vibrating with the tension.

When she steps back, his eyes follow her, but he stays rooted firmly to the same spot. “People only come to the Field when they have a place to recruit for,” he mutters, finally cutting his eyes away. Thinking about the future is in parts bleak and in parts thrilling. He lets none of either of those feelings show on his face, instead looking everywhere except her as if he is considering the question, and then abruptly turns back, pinning her with his gaze. “What’s your name?”

He doesn’t usually agree to adventures with strangers.