The beguiling motion of flesh took place underneath the layers of silk adorning their forms. Though one was stilled, except from the rise and fall of his chest, the other stretched and moved in a languid motion against him. There came an appeasing sound, quiet and yet easily heard in the emptiness of the dark, as she was roused from sleep. Weariness was found past the flutter of lashes, which attempted to filter the lancing moonbeam that entered through the window. Golden eyes glittered when she turned away from Thaarus and rolled to face the light which bathed her this evening. The bed-sheets fell away from bronze flesh, only to pool around her waist whilst she sat up, taking in the faintest of sounds.
Even when attempting a moment's reprieve, which was found in slumber, something desired her attention. There was a rustle from the bough of the trees, and it was not some occurrence made by the winds. the rhythm of foot steps, albeit faint, were heard outside the window.
A glance was made past the curve of her shoulder to the pallid countenance of the man that slept beside her. With a slight twist of her frame, warm fingers sought out his marred cheek; her thumb brushed at the scar gingerly before letting slender digits caress his jawline. His hair was disheveled and fanned around his visage, enhancing his allure. Warmth was spreading across her features and a smile was triggered by the serenity he was enveloped in.
But, just as soon as that tenderness is expressed, Rivienne pulls herself away and slips her fingers underneath the pillow her golden crown once rested 'pon. When withdrawn, a sheathed dagger comes into view and is pulled against her body. Thaarus stirs, but she quickly leans over to his frame and presses her lips to the outer shell of his ear. Her contact lasts but a few heartbeats, for soon she is on her feet and taking possession of a robe at the end of the bed.
Silent footfalls carried her out of the bedroom, through the hall, where dying light sweeps across the room, stealing a caress of any exposed flesh soon covered by the light robe. The dagger was not forgotten, it was still in her grasp as she hastily made it to the very entrance of her homestead. The blade is unsheathed slowly, the scabbard set on the table. The flat side is pressed to her cheek, tapping it gingerly, as the door opens and swings in. That is when the tip of her blade is pointed forward at who awaits her.
The guest outside was garbed in dark attire, making him indistinguishable with the shadows that ensnared him. One thing was for certain, the striking gaze of silver met hers of gold. They narrowed as she took the envelope, which was, without a doubt, another assignment. Usually, these exchanges needed little verbal confirmation, but his voice spilled from past the scarf he wore, which caused her eyes to be drawn to the mottled shadows across his profile.
"Quite an act," his chin, though she could not see it, points toward the inside of her home. He slowly lifts a hand to lower the blade, which had been settled between his eyes.
"There is no acting involved, not with him. I would suggest you pay mind to your own business and keep out of my own." A warning laced with an even-tone that remained calm, steady. The envelope is taken into her free hand, whilst the dagger now rests at her side.
"Your business is ours, we rather not have another endangered. How much does he know?" The man looked past Rivienne, past the threshold, as if seeking something in her lightly lit home.
"I never inquired, though he is no fool. He knows what I am, I am sure he can piece everything together if he desired to investigate what dealings I have with you." She changes the subject immediately, her personal life was never meant to take precedence in this exchange. "When do you want me to take these targets on?"
"Come daybreak, instructions are written inside as to their travel schedule, the destination they are heading to. You need to make sure that the supplies are kept safe, at all costs. You will be opposed by a few that wish to get their hands on the delivery of these goods, rid them of breath." He gave her a salute, one she knew all too well, and turned on his heel, leaving Rivienne to watch him vanish into the drapery of darkness.
The door closed behind her and she felt the weight of the envelope in her hand. A slow breath is drawn out and the back of her head falls against the grain of the door. Tiredly, her eyes are drawn to the glow that came from the lamps as her thoughts draw her back to the moments shared at Thaarus' side early in the evening.
It was an escape of reality that she welcomed, and needed.
Even when attempting a moment's reprieve, which was found in slumber, something desired her attention. There was a rustle from the bough of the trees, and it was not some occurrence made by the winds. the rhythm of foot steps, albeit faint, were heard outside the window.
A glance was made past the curve of her shoulder to the pallid countenance of the man that slept beside her. With a slight twist of her frame, warm fingers sought out his marred cheek; her thumb brushed at the scar gingerly before letting slender digits caress his jawline. His hair was disheveled and fanned around his visage, enhancing his allure. Warmth was spreading across her features and a smile was triggered by the serenity he was enveloped in.
But, just as soon as that tenderness is expressed, Rivienne pulls herself away and slips her fingers underneath the pillow her golden crown once rested 'pon. When withdrawn, a sheathed dagger comes into view and is pulled against her body. Thaarus stirs, but she quickly leans over to his frame and presses her lips to the outer shell of his ear. Her contact lasts but a few heartbeats, for soon she is on her feet and taking possession of a robe at the end of the bed.
Silent footfalls carried her out of the bedroom, through the hall, where dying light sweeps across the room, stealing a caress of any exposed flesh soon covered by the light robe. The dagger was not forgotten, it was still in her grasp as she hastily made it to the very entrance of her homestead. The blade is unsheathed slowly, the scabbard set on the table. The flat side is pressed to her cheek, tapping it gingerly, as the door opens and swings in. That is when the tip of her blade is pointed forward at who awaits her.
The guest outside was garbed in dark attire, making him indistinguishable with the shadows that ensnared him. One thing was for certain, the striking gaze of silver met hers of gold. They narrowed as she took the envelope, which was, without a doubt, another assignment. Usually, these exchanges needed little verbal confirmation, but his voice spilled from past the scarf he wore, which caused her eyes to be drawn to the mottled shadows across his profile.
"Quite an act," his chin, though she could not see it, points toward the inside of her home. He slowly lifts a hand to lower the blade, which had been settled between his eyes.
"There is no acting involved, not with him. I would suggest you pay mind to your own business and keep out of my own." A warning laced with an even-tone that remained calm, steady. The envelope is taken into her free hand, whilst the dagger now rests at her side.
"Your business is ours, we rather not have another endangered. How much does he know?" The man looked past Rivienne, past the threshold, as if seeking something in her lightly lit home.
"I never inquired, though he is no fool. He knows what I am, I am sure he can piece everything together if he desired to investigate what dealings I have with you." She changes the subject immediately, her personal life was never meant to take precedence in this exchange. "When do you want me to take these targets on?"
"Come daybreak, instructions are written inside as to their travel schedule, the destination they are heading to. You need to make sure that the supplies are kept safe, at all costs. You will be opposed by a few that wish to get their hands on the delivery of these goods, rid them of breath." He gave her a salute, one she knew all too well, and turned on his heel, leaving Rivienne to watch him vanish into the drapery of darkness.
The door closed behind her and she felt the weight of the envelope in her hand. A slow breath is drawn out and the back of her head falls against the grain of the door. Tiredly, her eyes are drawn to the glow that came from the lamps as her thoughts draw her back to the moments shared at Thaarus' side early in the evening.
It was an escape of reality that she welcomed, and needed.
“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.â€
Rivienne Delacroux ♚ Bowmaiden's Tumblr