Bramblepoint we steal fire from the heavens

She seemed incredibly uncomfortable with the current topic. Not only did she not seem to calm much with his reassurance, her discomfort only seemed to increase with his question. He watched her for a few moments, a frown forming on his face. Why does this make you so uncomfortable? he asked. I like you and it appears that you feel the same way about me. He shrugged a little even though his heart sped up at the thought that he might have read everything all wrong. But it was just insecurity talking. It was bound to come up eventually, he pointed out, eyebrow raised. I mean, unless that's not something you want...which I would respect. He watched her curiously, studying her expression as he waited.

Oh Razikale please, I beg of you to open the earth already.

She felt awful as guilt built in the pit of her stomach. He called out all of her awful bluffs — granted she had not tried awfully hard to hide her discomfort. His words felt like daggers against her even if he never spoke with anger. She had sought reprimand for her rude questioning but this was far different than anything she had anticipated or prayed for.

"I mean, unless that's not something you want..."

Sheepishly she rolled her head over once more to gaze at him, sidelong out of ruby eyes. I like you. She whispered carefully as if words spoken too loud might further splinter things. I want you. In ways she didn't completely understand, if she were to be truthful. I don't want to ruin things before they even really start. She felt vulnerable but there was nowhere to go under his form. Perhaps it was best to face the discomfort head on. Not that she could understand that in this moment.

If only he knew how his no nonsense way of approaching things had really made her feel; there wouldn't have been enough words in existence to describe how guilty he would feel. But he didn't know, and since that was how he approached most things, he thought nothing of it. It got the subject out in the open and gave him a glimpse of how she felt about things. Hearing that she liked and wanted him made his skin heat and his heart flutter. But what she said next was sobering, like ice water on his heated skin. He felt awful for implying that he was demanding anything from her now so soon into whatever this was. I'm sorry, he said first, guilt invading his expression. I didn't mean we had to do anything now. he lowered his head and nuzzled her cheek. I only want what you're ready to give me, he murmured gently. He wanted there to be no question about that.

She knew what she was ready to give him. Come here. She whispered softly, prepared to hold him close to her own form if he'd let her. Perhaps another night she would find comfort in him in a different way — perhaps never. She did not know what the future held for her or for them. What she did know was that she wanted to enjoy each moment with him. To breathe in his scent and commit it to memory, to remember every detail of him so that if this should pass she would always have their memories.

He gladly gave in to her request, lowering his face until it was buried in the fur of her neck. Each breath, he drew in her scent and then exhaled his warm breath against her fur so that it would stir up the scent once more. She was soft and comforting, and he wanted to stay there nestled in her soothing warmth. The feeling was intense and suddenly frightening. All this time, he had avoided feeling like this about anyone, and it was because of the complete and utter vulnerability that came with allowing someone else to have such control over him. He swallowed hard and before he realized the words were leaving his mouth, he whispered against her: This scares me.

"This scares me."

She held him a bit tighter, if possible, her own fear that he might crumble in her arms or he'd vanish with the wind. Then she found the strength to speak to him. Murmured and soft. Why? There was no anger or accusation in her tone. Simple tender curiosity. She stayed quiet after her small one-worded question. All she would offer until his answer was her presence, hopeful that it might continue to offer comfort.

He was quiet for a few moments, trying to put into words just exactly everything he was feeling while reveling in her soothing embrace. He didn't want to answer her at first; he wanted to pretend he hadn't even brought it up and let this moment be free of his fears. How could he tell her that this scared him because he was weak? Because he was afraid of being vulnerable? But he wouldn't deny her the answer she gently sought; he had brought it up after all. He released a heavy sigh against her fur. Because it's not something I can control, and control is how I stay safe. Control was how he kept from feeling loss ever again. He kept his face hidden, afraid he wouldn't be able to keep being truthful with her if he could see her face. My father died in battle...right in front of me. I was unable to save him—I felt helpless, and I'm afraid of feeling that way ever again. He didn't bring up his mother who he knew had disowned him for being natrona. He was being a coward, not wanting to tell her he was a traitor. Maybe he would tell her eventually, but he had opened himself up as much as he could take right now. He hadn't spoken of his father's death in a long time, not to anyone, and the grief was renewed with the resurfacing of all the painful memories.

She was in no rush for an answer. Sometimes the honest truth took time to build and come forth, to find the strength to share it all. She thought she might have words at first to soothe his worries but then came the following admission. There was nothing one could do to heal the wounds of a lost family member. Especially not when they were lost in such a brutal way. To slip away gently in the night was one thing, to die in battle...she didn't wish to think much about the burden that he carried with that.

But you're in control of whatever this may be. She whispered gently as she aimed to run her nose along his ear. And to move on from a tragedy and find comfort in the future...it's all one could hope for. You deserve that at the very least.

He wanted to draw more comfort from the heat of her touch along his ear, and he wanted to believe her that he was in control. It might appear that way on the surface, too, but inside his mind and heart, it felt quite the opposite. What if something happened to her? What if he did something to hurt her? And even deeper down, pushing it's way to the surface was the question of what if he wasn't good enough for her. She seemed so gentle and pure, and he felt like he would ruin her with all of his heavy baggage. And whether or not he deserved to move on and find comfort, he didn't know. He was inclined (maybe even conditioned) to believe he didn't, but he didn't speak his fear out loud this time. One thing he was certain about was how much he wanted Eleni in his life—how much he wanted to be hers; his want was so great that it overshadowed all of his turmoil, making him actually believe that he might be able to be with her and just figure the rest out. He couldn't think of any words to offer her because there were none that seemed adequate. So he just released a heavy sigh, letting go of his fears for now and burying his face into the fur of her chest so that her scent surrounded him. He slowly nuzzled her, happy to stay right there forever.