The silk shirt was still soft to touch, its white sheen accentuated against the rich crimson embroidery that was woven into the sleeves and the seams. Roen gently lifted it out of the box, her eyes studying the fine details in the tailoring. With a few tugs, the ballooned sleeves regained their airiness, puffing out proudly as if to show off the frame of the man that had once worn them.
Roen had not complemented Nero when he arrived at the Starlight Ball, dressed fancily in this nobleman’s tunic. She was at a lost for words that he had shown up at all. She tucked her joy away quietly, only greeting him with a warning about her brother being present within. His returned quip was quietly confident, only pondering the varied possibilities of the impending encounter, as they entered the Sanctum of the Twelve together. A mass of gloriously dressed patrons danced and twirled within.
That had been nearly three years ago.
Roen held up the shirt in front of her, wondering why this one of all tunics were preserved. Nero had not packed frivolously, but the outfit he wore to the Ball was precisely folded and tucked away with his personal belongings meant for Othard.
Was there a part of him that wanted to remember?
Roen brought the fabric to her face to feel its caress, and inhaled deeply. The memories of the cool damp air of the forest and the scent of the man that wore it returned easily to her memory.
The moon had shone bright that evening.
Roen had never seen it as clear as she did that night, pale and alone in a night sky littered with countless stars. She wondered if it was the hushed calm of the Shroud that allowed the night to unveil itself with such honesty.
The footsteps of the pirate and the paladin were quiet over the mossy ground that spanned the forest around the Sanctum of the Twelve. Roen did not know for how long they had strolled amongst the woods after leaving the Starlight Ball; their pace was unhurried, their course meandering. Nero had been quiet for most of the way, although Roen herself was lost in thought. Much had happened during the Ball, from Gharen asking about the Yoyorano family, to Mister Bellveil revealing to Gideon that she had a secret she was desperately trying to hide. Then there was the run-in with Taeros and Coatleque, and the tense exchange of words between them. Her thoughts were so far away that by the time the two found themselves in a small clearing, she nor the pirate knew how they had gotten there.
She thought it was part luck and part coincidence that they came upon the secluded grove--a cleared, oval copse shrouded by trees. There was a break in the canopy that allowed the stars and moonlight to illuminate the space, and the quiet babble of a distant stream filled the air along with soft singing of crickets. It was a charming respite, a welcomed escape from the shadows that lingered everywhere else.
Roen eyed the smuggler who shuffled ahead of her awkwardly, his hand brushing through those jet black locks streaked with orange. She marveled at how the silver light that filtered down from above seemed to calm even those blazing highlights… and maybe even sooth his usually guarded disposition. He turned his head left then right, placing his hands on his hips. He fidgeted, and seemed unable to decide between coughing or sighing.
“I never did like walking around in the Shroud, you know.†Nero’s confession came out more like a groan. “Everything looks the same. How do Gridanians put up with it? Perhaps they bring lengths of rope with them to backtrack.â€
Roen took comfort in the shimmering radiance from above, a smile rising to her lips. “I used to get lost here often.†She shrugged, stepping carefully over a root on her tip toes, careful not to let the heels of her shoes sink in between the vines. “But sometimes...I did not mind it so much.â€
The pirate smirked and cocked an eye at her. “Ever the woodland sprite, hm? It’s a shame you don’t do well on ships.†He threw a glance at his surroundings. “I don’t suppose you know where this is, do you?â€
Her smile widened into a grin as she walked past him into the grove, slipping out of her shoes as her baretoes tested the soft moss covered ground. She spun once on the balls of her feet, letting her dress billow around her legs. “Does it matter? It is beautiful, is it not?†She opened her arms wide. “It makes you forget, just for little while, the rest of the world.†There was a part of her that desperately needed to not think of other things.
Nero curled something oddly akin to an amused frown. “Perhaps not right this moment, but I would rather not be buried by sylphs, thank you very much.†He exhaled. “I suppose we have been walking for some time, anyway.â€
The paladin ambled around the periphery of the grove, but glanced back at the smuggler when she heard him grunt, trying to take a seat on the grass. He was struggling with the restrictions of the outfit he had chosen for the Starlight Ball.
“Oh, sod it.†The pirate hastily undid the buckles holding the breastplate to the silk white shirt he had worn, and the thin plate of metal thudded softly on the forest floor. Following that was the tight laces on the shirt itself; half of its length was undone, somewhat exposing his chest. Nero let out a long satisfied exhale and stretched, having been released from the confines of his fanciful ensemble.
“I do not know if you are aware,†the smuggler explained as he caught her watching him. He smirked back when their eyes met, and Roen quickly glanced elsewhere. “But formal wear is very uncomfortable.†He gave the breastplate an accusatory look. “Or perhaps they just fitted me wrong. Silly design, really. They make the sleeves and everything else loose, only to tighten it up with all those laces and cuffs. I was rather stifled in that ball, wearing this getup.â€
Roen was doing her very best to press her lips together, to try and lessen her outward expression of amusement. “Despite all your complaints, you did look rather dashing.†She looked down at her own dress, the red and white silks billowing with a gentle forest breeze. Wearing such an ornate ensemble was a rare treat for her, one that she secretly savored.
“My dear, are you suggesting that there are times where I do not look dashing? I am offended. Wounded. Besmirched, even.†By the time Roen turned back to him, he was stretching his arms outwards, twisting his torso this way and that. “This is much more comfortable, in any case.â€
"It has been awhile since I wore such things," she said wistfully as she lightly tugged on the fall of her skirt to let it sway. When she peered back up at him, her grey eyes twinkled a little. "And...you do smirk a bit much."
He looked at her in an expression of mock horror. "But this is a Lazarov trademark!" he protested. "Passed down our family line for generations!" He straightened his posture and gave a low bow, crossing his left arm across his chest and offering his right arm towards the paladin. "I daresay I must challenge you to a duel for my family's honour. Seeing as how none are watching." His eyes danced mischievously. "Though bear in mind that it's been some time since I've had to dance. Years, even. I sensed that you wished for the opportunity while we were at the ball, but I could not humiliate myself in such a fashion. Not in public, anyway."
Roen did not answer immediately, instead she spun from him and took a few more steps into the grove. She tossed aside her shoes, preferring the bare feet to lightly press upon the moist grass. When she turned back to the pirate, it was with a quick spin, to send her dress flaring outwards. She had a beaming smile. "Challenge of a duel. I accept."
She approached him and placed her hand upon his, their palms lightly touching. "I did want to dance. But I would not have you do something you did not want to." She canted her head. "You had begrudgingly agreed to coming to the Ball after all."
"I would like it to go on record that it is only because going in public carries a distinct danger. Let it never be said that I do nothing for you, hm?" His teasing grin was only a small warning to him gasping her offered hand and sweeping her body close to his. "Is a waltz acceptable? I am afraid those are the only steps I have memorised."
Roen almost let out a small laughter of surprise, but she stepped into his hold nimbly. She nodded, her expression warm, perhaps her cheeks even more so. "I did not know you knew the waltz."
Nero began to move, placing his right arm around the small of her back and firmly grasping her left hand. His steps were unsteady but practised. His steps were calm and slow, not very much like the energy that the style usually demanded, and he gently turned with her as they moved through the grove.
"It was for a Gridanian soiree. A business partner insisted I make an attendance, and he was not one you said no to." His mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Have you any idea how difficult it is to find dance instructors in Limsa Lominsa on such short notice? Perhaps it is lucky I did not learn to dance like a courtesan."
"Mm." Her steps matched his with ease , her dress whispering quietly over the soft grass. "Did you sweep someone else off their feet?"
"Sadly, no. I am not entirely sure what happened, but spirits were served and the last thing I remember is being told to put the confectionary tray down and leave the premises." A small chuckle accompanied the memory. "The rest, as they say, is history." His movements were becoming more fluid as he seemingly gained more confidence. "Coincidentally, it is there that I gained my distaste of doublets as well."
There was only the quiet rustling of the leaves, the whispering babble of a stream, and a choir of crickets, but they all sounded like music to her ears as the two of them glided in small circles through the clear copse. She wondered if he could see how warm her cheeks felt. She was silently grateful for the cool forest air. "I am glad that you did not choose to repeat that particular performance, this eve."
"And risk embarrassing you, my dear? Not a chance." He stopped abruptly in his movement and, still grasping her arm and the small of her back, bent low. He paused as he held her easily, almost parallel with the ground. His icy-blue eyes held a twinkle of amusement. "Moonlight suits you. I was not aware."
Roen let out an unexpected gasp of laughter at the dip, then she pressed her lips together again as if to quell it. "You are not a bad dancer. Better than you give yourself credit for."
"Do not give me so much credit. This is the only dance I know, and I must say that I find the movements dreadfully boring. It is nothing but spinning." He pulled her up and again held her body close to his. "If there is more to the act, I do not know it."
Her grey eyes darted between his, as if seeing him in a brand new light. As they stood again, she glanced to their joined hand. "It is not just about the steps. It is... it is about the movement of two people as one. Each one can shine in turn and yet the two never part. Then they unite again to move together once more. It is meant to be a delicate art."
Nero grinned. "Care to demonstrate?"
Roen smiled brightly. She pulled back slightly, slipping out of his hold, but their hand remained joined as she stepped across from him into a graceful spin. She stepped towards him again, but to his backside, their tentative hold remaining ever entwined.
Nero did not move much though he continued to hold her hand. "I hope you are not expecting me to improvise. I would rather not inflict any injuries tonight, hm?"
She looked at him over her shoulder. "There are many ways to move, together and yet separate." This time with their hands held high, she spun around him, coming to face him chest to chest. The billow of her dress wrapped around her legs. "Why Mister Lazarov, you dare lose to me in this duel?"
"Admittedly, this is one thing I would not necessarily mind losing in. Though I will endeavour to provide a challenge." He took hold of her and their rotary began again. In the middle of one rotation, he released his right hand from the small of her back, allowing her to extend.
"Do take care that I am improvising now, and I take no responsibility," he said, grinning. "This is not my forte, you realise."
Roen spun once, her free hand extending behind her, before she stepped back towards him. "And if you lose this duel, what do I gain with my victory?"
"A cookie in an amusing shape is all I can promise," he returned. "Though, be aware that I may play dirty. Like this." He began taking her in circles again, but just as abruptly as he started, he planted a foot behind her heel, tripping her, and back she went. He of course followed suit, though he nimbly took care to spin as they both fell, placing his body beneath hers as they tumbled onto the soft grass.
Roen let out a surprised yelp, followed by a laugh as she landed on top of him. Nero sounded somewhat breathless, although he still maintained his smirk, as ever. "We can call this a draw, hm?"
Her auburn locks fell loose and around his face. She wrinkled her nose but her lips were still curled in a smile. "You cheat!" She lightly tapped his chest with a fist.
"Pirate, remember?" The statement was punctuated with a light and sudden kiss to the side of her face. "You would do well to remember that." His breathing steadied as he lay in the grass, his loose shirt not offering much resistance to the soothing sensation of the cool grass. He stared up at the brilliant moon and the stars above. "Starlight Ball. An apt name for it, I suppose."
What mischief she held for him quickly faded with that kiss. Her cheeks felt warm again, even though she had felt his lips before. She sighed softly and slid onto the grass next to him. "This...is nice," she said softly.
"Daegsatz would have never believed it," she murmured after a pause. "That you would dance with me under the starlight." There was a quiet inhale as she fought off any melancholy that threatened to descend. She pursed her lips stubbornly. "He actually dared me to teach you."
Nero let out a soft snort. "I suppose he's busy writing me an invoice for all of the gil I owe him now. Well, let it never be said that I am not full of surprises." He turned his head slightly, looking at her. "Though, keep this to yourself, hm? My reputation would be ruined otherwise."
She turned to lay on her side, her head propped against her hand. "It is good to see you smile," she admitted quietly as she regarded him. "I daresay you do not do it often enough. It suits you."
"If I smiled too often, then they would cease to become special.†He spun his body to face her briefly before reaching an arm over her and rather forcefully rolling her atop him, tucking her head in towards his neck. She had caught for an instant that his expression had grown somber, just as he hid his face from hers with the gesture. "And I can't have that now, can I?"
Roen yelped again, but remained where she laid, crossing her arms and resting her chin against his collarbone. Her breath was soft against his neck. "You do not give yourself enough credit. You hold much in reserve." She turned her head slightly, her nose lightly brushing against his cheek. "I believe I know you, a little." There was a smile behind those words.
Nero fell to silence, merely staring up at the canopy of light that was the night sky. His left arm had reached around her and his thumb idly stroked her cheek, half in affection and half in contemplation. Then suddenly he pulled her up closer towards him and kissed her lips, almost forcefully so. He held her head to his for a long time before releasing her, his breath finally escaping him, drifting warmly past her lips and cheek.
"This was....an invitation to forget our troubles, no?" He kissed her again. "Then let us forget our troubles."
The shirt still held his scent.
Roen laid on the bed, one arm covering her eyes. She felt the single streak of moisture that had left its trail upon her cheek. Two years, and it still hurt. It no longer paralyzed her as it used to, but such thoughts of him still rekindled that deep ache within her chest.
She remained on that bed for awhile longer, as the ocean winds rolled in, and the distant cry of seagulls filled the air.
Roen had not complemented Nero when he arrived at the Starlight Ball, dressed fancily in this nobleman’s tunic. She was at a lost for words that he had shown up at all. She tucked her joy away quietly, only greeting him with a warning about her brother being present within. His returned quip was quietly confident, only pondering the varied possibilities of the impending encounter, as they entered the Sanctum of the Twelve together. A mass of gloriously dressed patrons danced and twirled within.
That had been nearly three years ago.
Roen held up the shirt in front of her, wondering why this one of all tunics were preserved. Nero had not packed frivolously, but the outfit he wore to the Ball was precisely folded and tucked away with his personal belongings meant for Othard.
Was there a part of him that wanted to remember?
Roen brought the fabric to her face to feel its caress, and inhaled deeply. The memories of the cool damp air of the forest and the scent of the man that wore it returned easily to her memory.
The moon had shone bright that evening.
Roen had never seen it as clear as she did that night, pale and alone in a night sky littered with countless stars. She wondered if it was the hushed calm of the Shroud that allowed the night to unveil itself with such honesty.
The footsteps of the pirate and the paladin were quiet over the mossy ground that spanned the forest around the Sanctum of the Twelve. Roen did not know for how long they had strolled amongst the woods after leaving the Starlight Ball; their pace was unhurried, their course meandering. Nero had been quiet for most of the way, although Roen herself was lost in thought. Much had happened during the Ball, from Gharen asking about the Yoyorano family, to Mister Bellveil revealing to Gideon that she had a secret she was desperately trying to hide. Then there was the run-in with Taeros and Coatleque, and the tense exchange of words between them. Her thoughts were so far away that by the time the two found themselves in a small clearing, she nor the pirate knew how they had gotten there.
She thought it was part luck and part coincidence that they came upon the secluded grove--a cleared, oval copse shrouded by trees. There was a break in the canopy that allowed the stars and moonlight to illuminate the space, and the quiet babble of a distant stream filled the air along with soft singing of crickets. It was a charming respite, a welcomed escape from the shadows that lingered everywhere else.
Roen eyed the smuggler who shuffled ahead of her awkwardly, his hand brushing through those jet black locks streaked with orange. She marveled at how the silver light that filtered down from above seemed to calm even those blazing highlights… and maybe even sooth his usually guarded disposition. He turned his head left then right, placing his hands on his hips. He fidgeted, and seemed unable to decide between coughing or sighing.
“I never did like walking around in the Shroud, you know.†Nero’s confession came out more like a groan. “Everything looks the same. How do Gridanians put up with it? Perhaps they bring lengths of rope with them to backtrack.â€
Roen took comfort in the shimmering radiance from above, a smile rising to her lips. “I used to get lost here often.†She shrugged, stepping carefully over a root on her tip toes, careful not to let the heels of her shoes sink in between the vines. “But sometimes...I did not mind it so much.â€
The pirate smirked and cocked an eye at her. “Ever the woodland sprite, hm? It’s a shame you don’t do well on ships.†He threw a glance at his surroundings. “I don’t suppose you know where this is, do you?â€
Her smile widened into a grin as she walked past him into the grove, slipping out of her shoes as her baretoes tested the soft moss covered ground. She spun once on the balls of her feet, letting her dress billow around her legs. “Does it matter? It is beautiful, is it not?†She opened her arms wide. “It makes you forget, just for little while, the rest of the world.†There was a part of her that desperately needed to not think of other things.
Nero curled something oddly akin to an amused frown. “Perhaps not right this moment, but I would rather not be buried by sylphs, thank you very much.†He exhaled. “I suppose we have been walking for some time, anyway.â€
The paladin ambled around the periphery of the grove, but glanced back at the smuggler when she heard him grunt, trying to take a seat on the grass. He was struggling with the restrictions of the outfit he had chosen for the Starlight Ball.
“Oh, sod it.†The pirate hastily undid the buckles holding the breastplate to the silk white shirt he had worn, and the thin plate of metal thudded softly on the forest floor. Following that was the tight laces on the shirt itself; half of its length was undone, somewhat exposing his chest. Nero let out a long satisfied exhale and stretched, having been released from the confines of his fanciful ensemble.
“I do not know if you are aware,†the smuggler explained as he caught her watching him. He smirked back when their eyes met, and Roen quickly glanced elsewhere. “But formal wear is very uncomfortable.†He gave the breastplate an accusatory look. “Or perhaps they just fitted me wrong. Silly design, really. They make the sleeves and everything else loose, only to tighten it up with all those laces and cuffs. I was rather stifled in that ball, wearing this getup.â€
Roen was doing her very best to press her lips together, to try and lessen her outward expression of amusement. “Despite all your complaints, you did look rather dashing.†She looked down at her own dress, the red and white silks billowing with a gentle forest breeze. Wearing such an ornate ensemble was a rare treat for her, one that she secretly savored.
“My dear, are you suggesting that there are times where I do not look dashing? I am offended. Wounded. Besmirched, even.†By the time Roen turned back to him, he was stretching his arms outwards, twisting his torso this way and that. “This is much more comfortable, in any case.â€
"It has been awhile since I wore such things," she said wistfully as she lightly tugged on the fall of her skirt to let it sway. When she peered back up at him, her grey eyes twinkled a little. "And...you do smirk a bit much."
He looked at her in an expression of mock horror. "But this is a Lazarov trademark!" he protested. "Passed down our family line for generations!" He straightened his posture and gave a low bow, crossing his left arm across his chest and offering his right arm towards the paladin. "I daresay I must challenge you to a duel for my family's honour. Seeing as how none are watching." His eyes danced mischievously. "Though bear in mind that it's been some time since I've had to dance. Years, even. I sensed that you wished for the opportunity while we were at the ball, but I could not humiliate myself in such a fashion. Not in public, anyway."
Roen did not answer immediately, instead she spun from him and took a few more steps into the grove. She tossed aside her shoes, preferring the bare feet to lightly press upon the moist grass. When she turned back to the pirate, it was with a quick spin, to send her dress flaring outwards. She had a beaming smile. "Challenge of a duel. I accept."
She approached him and placed her hand upon his, their palms lightly touching. "I did want to dance. But I would not have you do something you did not want to." She canted her head. "You had begrudgingly agreed to coming to the Ball after all."
"I would like it to go on record that it is only because going in public carries a distinct danger. Let it never be said that I do nothing for you, hm?" His teasing grin was only a small warning to him gasping her offered hand and sweeping her body close to his. "Is a waltz acceptable? I am afraid those are the only steps I have memorised."
Roen almost let out a small laughter of surprise, but she stepped into his hold nimbly. She nodded, her expression warm, perhaps her cheeks even more so. "I did not know you knew the waltz."
Nero began to move, placing his right arm around the small of her back and firmly grasping her left hand. His steps were unsteady but practised. His steps were calm and slow, not very much like the energy that the style usually demanded, and he gently turned with her as they moved through the grove.
"It was for a Gridanian soiree. A business partner insisted I make an attendance, and he was not one you said no to." His mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Have you any idea how difficult it is to find dance instructors in Limsa Lominsa on such short notice? Perhaps it is lucky I did not learn to dance like a courtesan."
"Mm." Her steps matched his with ease , her dress whispering quietly over the soft grass. "Did you sweep someone else off their feet?"
"Sadly, no. I am not entirely sure what happened, but spirits were served and the last thing I remember is being told to put the confectionary tray down and leave the premises." A small chuckle accompanied the memory. "The rest, as they say, is history." His movements were becoming more fluid as he seemingly gained more confidence. "Coincidentally, it is there that I gained my distaste of doublets as well."
There was only the quiet rustling of the leaves, the whispering babble of a stream, and a choir of crickets, but they all sounded like music to her ears as the two of them glided in small circles through the clear copse. She wondered if he could see how warm her cheeks felt. She was silently grateful for the cool forest air. "I am glad that you did not choose to repeat that particular performance, this eve."
"And risk embarrassing you, my dear? Not a chance." He stopped abruptly in his movement and, still grasping her arm and the small of her back, bent low. He paused as he held her easily, almost parallel with the ground. His icy-blue eyes held a twinkle of amusement. "Moonlight suits you. I was not aware."
Roen let out an unexpected gasp of laughter at the dip, then she pressed her lips together again as if to quell it. "You are not a bad dancer. Better than you give yourself credit for."
"Do not give me so much credit. This is the only dance I know, and I must say that I find the movements dreadfully boring. It is nothing but spinning." He pulled her up and again held her body close to his. "If there is more to the act, I do not know it."
Her grey eyes darted between his, as if seeing him in a brand new light. As they stood again, she glanced to their joined hand. "It is not just about the steps. It is... it is about the movement of two people as one. Each one can shine in turn and yet the two never part. Then they unite again to move together once more. It is meant to be a delicate art."
Nero grinned. "Care to demonstrate?"
Roen smiled brightly. She pulled back slightly, slipping out of his hold, but their hand remained joined as she stepped across from him into a graceful spin. She stepped towards him again, but to his backside, their tentative hold remaining ever entwined.
Nero did not move much though he continued to hold her hand. "I hope you are not expecting me to improvise. I would rather not inflict any injuries tonight, hm?"
She looked at him over her shoulder. "There are many ways to move, together and yet separate." This time with their hands held high, she spun around him, coming to face him chest to chest. The billow of her dress wrapped around her legs. "Why Mister Lazarov, you dare lose to me in this duel?"
"Admittedly, this is one thing I would not necessarily mind losing in. Though I will endeavour to provide a challenge." He took hold of her and their rotary began again. In the middle of one rotation, he released his right hand from the small of her back, allowing her to extend.
"Do take care that I am improvising now, and I take no responsibility," he said, grinning. "This is not my forte, you realise."
Roen spun once, her free hand extending behind her, before she stepped back towards him. "And if you lose this duel, what do I gain with my victory?"
"A cookie in an amusing shape is all I can promise," he returned. "Though, be aware that I may play dirty. Like this." He began taking her in circles again, but just as abruptly as he started, he planted a foot behind her heel, tripping her, and back she went. He of course followed suit, though he nimbly took care to spin as they both fell, placing his body beneath hers as they tumbled onto the soft grass.
Roen let out a surprised yelp, followed by a laugh as she landed on top of him. Nero sounded somewhat breathless, although he still maintained his smirk, as ever. "We can call this a draw, hm?"
Her auburn locks fell loose and around his face. She wrinkled her nose but her lips were still curled in a smile. "You cheat!" She lightly tapped his chest with a fist.
"Pirate, remember?" The statement was punctuated with a light and sudden kiss to the side of her face. "You would do well to remember that." His breathing steadied as he lay in the grass, his loose shirt not offering much resistance to the soothing sensation of the cool grass. He stared up at the brilliant moon and the stars above. "Starlight Ball. An apt name for it, I suppose."
What mischief she held for him quickly faded with that kiss. Her cheeks felt warm again, even though she had felt his lips before. She sighed softly and slid onto the grass next to him. "This...is nice," she said softly.
"Daegsatz would have never believed it," she murmured after a pause. "That you would dance with me under the starlight." There was a quiet inhale as she fought off any melancholy that threatened to descend. She pursed her lips stubbornly. "He actually dared me to teach you."
Nero let out a soft snort. "I suppose he's busy writing me an invoice for all of the gil I owe him now. Well, let it never be said that I am not full of surprises." He turned his head slightly, looking at her. "Though, keep this to yourself, hm? My reputation would be ruined otherwise."
She turned to lay on her side, her head propped against her hand. "It is good to see you smile," she admitted quietly as she regarded him. "I daresay you do not do it often enough. It suits you."
"If I smiled too often, then they would cease to become special.†He spun his body to face her briefly before reaching an arm over her and rather forcefully rolling her atop him, tucking her head in towards his neck. She had caught for an instant that his expression had grown somber, just as he hid his face from hers with the gesture. "And I can't have that now, can I?"
Roen yelped again, but remained where she laid, crossing her arms and resting her chin against his collarbone. Her breath was soft against his neck. "You do not give yourself enough credit. You hold much in reserve." She turned her head slightly, her nose lightly brushing against his cheek. "I believe I know you, a little." There was a smile behind those words.
Nero fell to silence, merely staring up at the canopy of light that was the night sky. His left arm had reached around her and his thumb idly stroked her cheek, half in affection and half in contemplation. Then suddenly he pulled her up closer towards him and kissed her lips, almost forcefully so. He held her head to his for a long time before releasing her, his breath finally escaping him, drifting warmly past her lips and cheek.
"This was....an invitation to forget our troubles, no?" He kissed her again. "Then let us forget our troubles."
The shirt still held his scent.
Roen laid on the bed, one arm covering her eyes. She felt the single streak of moisture that had left its trail upon her cheek. Two years, and it still hurt. It no longer paralyzed her as it used to, but such thoughts of him still rekindled that deep ache within her chest.
She remained on that bed for awhile longer, as the ocean winds rolled in, and the distant cry of seagulls filled the air.
