Lildear18
Qia
PrinceAlexus
c3p-0h
Snowdrops
RezonanceV
ctrlsaltdel
Jumbus
ChronicleMan
Andre Valias
Vellion let out a deflated sigh, gaze trailing the path of the fleeing priestess but with none of his earlier mocking torment, instead holding a silent contemplation. Perhaps he almost felt guilt or remorse. If he did, it was unclear. Nyla resisted arching a brow as she caught the flicker of emotion passing through his dark eyes. The steel within her softened against him, if only for a moment.
Quickly dismissing whatever thoughts had intruded on his mind, he turned his attention back to Nyla and finally responded. "That I am, Ass is fine. Asshole also works, or anything of that nature really.” He says with disinterest as he turns his back on the woman and steps over to where his clothes lay, throwing the towel over his head as he starts rubbing his hair dry.
"So what are you really doing here?” His muffled voice escaped the towels movements. "You seemed pretty interested in that priestess, despite barely knowing her.” He had stopped toweling himself down and fixed a suspicious insinuating eye on her. A faint accusatory smirk sitting ready in the corner of his lips.
"Did I, interrupt something?”
Nyla returned his smirk and let out a soft, airy laugh. “Why? You are jealous?” She teased, her desert accent slipping into her words.
She peeled her gaze away from his, glancing down at the basket of cookies in her hands, trying to suppress the shame that had crept in. Briefly, she looked up the stone steps to confirm the Priestess had truly gone—escaped—then returned her gaze to him.
“You wish to be with her, or…?” She tilted her head, black hair cascading over her shoulder as a sweet smile played on her lips. “I think, maybe, you should try a softer approach with that one, Ass.” She paused, letting her eyes roam over him, taking her time in doing so. “Aurelian Priestesses are not so easily impressed.”
Done with his hair, he ran the towel quickly over his shoulders looking back at the woman who’s name he didn't know.
"Jealous? Me? No. Intrigued? Maybe.” He gave a faint shrug, amusement flickering in his eyes.
"A man can wish for many things, can he not?” He teased, musing to himself, flashing another playful devilish grin her way. Through that smile, an almost precursor to what was to come, he continued.
"She might’ve been impressed if she’d stuck around long enough to fall for my irresistible charm."
He paused, just for a beat—then, with no warning at all, flung his damp towel toward her. She flinched at the sudden movement, gripping the basket tighter and taking an automatic, fearful step backwards.
Silent, swift, and unnervingly precise, Vellion devoured the space between them with a preternatural grace. As the towel fell fluttering away, he was there, mere breaths away, eyes waiting, locked on hers. They searched her, relentlessly, invasively, for truths she hadn’t spoken, for secrets still hidden behind her tongue.
And then, finally he spoke, slow and low, every word wrapped in a velvet rhythm, more spell than sentence.
"How about you?”
Nyla held his gaze, unable to look away, even as her heart beat faster. Her nerves alight once more.
"You're not an Aurelian Priestess. So.. Are you impressed?”
For a moment, it took Nyla longer than she’d ever admit for her to feel fully grounded within her own body again.
It had been so long since someone had so intensely flirted with her—danced with her. Many had tried, but she could hardly recall the last time any had left her feeling unbalanced.
She blinked, quickly trying to return to herself and push the feeling aside. Her posture relaxed as the easy smile she had perfected returned to her lips.
“I’m much harder to impress.” she said smoothly, but with a playful, mocking undertone. She gave him a look of exaggerated disappointment, as though he could never hope to meet her exceptionally high standards. She held his gaze, but inside, she could feel the rapid pulse in her chest.
For just a second, she felt something—a small, unfamiliar flicker of nervousness—and quickly glanced away from him, her eyes drifting back to the stone steps, seeking some distraction to divert his attention.
“What is it you do here in town, anyway?” she asked, trying to regain her footing. Her gaze moved behind him to the sword propped up against the stone, recalling the scent of decay that had clung to the air earlier.
“You… hunt?” she asked, realizing now that she could no longer detect that scent.
"I… hunt.” He confirmed, voice echoing in her ear. Her eyes and attention might have darted about but his remained fixed. Fixed on her, held with a calm confident intensity. He was more than fixed, he was fixated. Lips softly parting with an apparent hunger. He looked ready and wanting to kiss her, or perhaps with that hunger in his eyes, it was to bite her.
Neither eventuates.
He breathed, a slow drawn out breath, its sound hanging on the silence between them, then with a sudden chuckle the moment was broken, bursting like a bubble, disappearing like a drop of rain into the stream of moments before it.
Nyla watched him carefully again, noting how effortlessly he had dodged her questions—twice now. No name. An unconvincing confirmation of his occupation, buried in innuendo. Her instincts whispered not to trust him. And yet, she stayed.
"And how about you? Do you hunt?” He asked mockingly as he headed back to pick up his clothes, deliberately positioning himself nearer his blade than perhaps necessary.
"What is it you do? Besides creep around the hotsprings carrying cookies?”
He noticed the basket for the first time.
“This is just my favorite pastime," she joked, a soft lilt of genuine amusement in her voice.
Now that he had put some distance between them, she felt steadier, more in control when her eyes met his again.
“I… entertain,” she added after a beat, the words tasting strange on her tongue. She used to, anyway. Something twisted in her heart at the thought—bitter and sad. She had no true place here, or anywhere. Not yet. But maybe, if she could get through speaking to Flynn, she would find her place again.
Brushing past the thought, she tilted her head, letting that playful glint return to her eyes. "Are you entertained?" she asked, plucking a cookie from the basket and holding it out in offering to him.
As Vellion begins redressing himself, starting with his pants, he glances up at Nyla and the offered treat in her outstretched hand.
"No.” He replied flatly. That single simple word deliberately left vague, and yet somehow so filled with the heavy undertone of a challenge. A dare.
"Not yet anyway.” His eye's bore a challenge but he said nothing else, a teasing glint in his demeanour as he tightened his belt and spoke with silence.
With a shrug, she slowly withdrew the offering, taking a small, deliberate bite instead. Chewing, she let the silence linger between them, holding his gaze thoughtfully.
“You’re not so easy to impress either, then.” She said after a moment, unabashedly observing the way he took his time to dress. “Good.”
Despite her nerves, there was something undeniably sharp and defiant in her blue eyes. He could challenge her all he wanted—she wasn’t going to ask “how high” when he told her to jump.
He gave a slight noncommittal shrug in reply to her keen observation. Not at all surprised she didn't fall for the bait. Meanwhile continuing to take his time getting dressed in front of her. His wet shirt clinging to his muscles which he tense while pulling it on. As if almost aware of what movements and positions highlighted his best features.
"So just what sort of entertainment do you offer?” He questions as he pauses getting dressed to give her reply his proper focus. Showing some signs of curious interest. Even if it was the type of interest a farmer might show to cattle he was thinking of purchasing.
“That depends,” she mused softly, her gaze tracing the tension in his arms before flicking back up to meet his gaze. “What sort of entertainment do you desire?”
Vellion found this woman increasingly difficult to rattle, and was running out of buttons to push. In that moment, he conclusively decided to give up on hiding the smile from his lips that she had created. Fully dressed now he let out a soft chuckle as he shook his head and retrieved his sword from the ground, finding he needed a moment's thought to find a reply.
In doing so, he was acceptingly giving her a point, if this were some game of skill and scoring.
He bit his lip, looking at the snow covered ground around his feet, deciding. Sword in hand he eventually looked back up, committal determination burning in his eyes as he playfully pointed the sheathed blade at the stranger before him. Time for boldness.
"Hmmm.
Clearly a fake thought as he steps closer.
"The sort that takes place before a warm fire. ”
Nyla raised a brow as he took another step, snow crunching beneath his bare feet.
"On or beside a comfy bed.”
Another step. His breath visible in the cold air.
"Puts a drink on my lips.”
A final step that sees the wooden sheath softly press against her sternum. She held her breath, stubbornly refusing to back away. This wasn’t the first time a man had pressed a weapon to her skin, but it had been the first time in a long time.
"And reverses,”
He lowers his voice, slowly sliding the weapon down along her stomach, gliding between the folds of her cloak.
"Our recent situation.”
A deft flick of his wrist tugged the garment open. Nyla tensed, but remained in place, the cold air rushing in against her chest. Though her tunic still covered her, the sudden absence of her cloak’s warmth was sharp, immediate. She was glad, for once, that she had dressed appropriately for the cold.
"It’s only fair after all..”
Slowly, as if moving too quickly might invite him closer, Nyla reached out and pressed her palm against the sheath. In an unhurried, deliberate motion, she guided it downward and away from her body.
Her heart pounded against her ribs, but her expression remained impeccably composed—disinterest worn like armor. Desperately, she tried to hold onto that feeling of dismissive control, like a thread that was slowly slipping through her fingertips.
“Fair?” She mused, lifting her gaze back to his. “You didn’t strike me for someone who plays fair.”
His amused grin widens at her witty retort.
She let the silence stretch between them, considering his words—if only to allow herself a moment to breathe. His eyes burned into her, but she refused to flinch beneath it.
“Start with the drink,” she finally said, a faint curve teasing at her lips. “Let’s see where that gets you.”
Withdrawing her palm from the sheathe, she stepped around him with fluid grace—like she had never been caught off guard at all. Like she never could be.
Moving past him, she strode toward the path that led away from the hotspring and back into town, choosing the route that curved around the temple rather than through it. With her back to him, every nerve in her body buzzed in warning, but she continued.
’A drink….’ If only it were that easy. When her back turned to him, all expression faded from his face, melting away in the absence of her gaze. ’Oh how he wanted a drink’
It seemed the fox from earlier had only served as an appetiser, now with a refreshed taste, he craved the main meal. He watched her walk, he could sense the warmth of her body, hear the beat of her heart, smell the mix of aroma’s on her skin. A ravenous craving had been growin in the pit of his soul.
He needed to feed.
Extending his senses beyond her, he look up the path and listen to the forest around them. Besides the rippling water he heard and saw no signs of company. They were all alone. The weight of his blade feeling right in his hand.
Brushing off the weight of choices, he clipped his sword to his belt and made a step to follow. Mask springing back in place, just in time.
A few paces away, she cast a glance over her shoulder. Her eyes met his—a silent question held there. A challenge.
’A challenge indeed. Vellion thought, although what prize he was seeking, he wasn't yet quite sure.
"Are you buying? it's a new age after all.”
Nyla simply scoffed in response.
As they drew nearer the center of town and the tavern, Vellion’s pace seemed to slow before he finally came to a complete stop.
"This is hardly the appropriate attire for our first date.” He teased, pinching the shoulder of his wet shirt. Nyla arched an inquisitive brow, though she remained quiet and examined his shirt. How he wasn't shivering against cloth that was likely turning into a sheet of ice, she didn't know.
"Let me just go and get into something a little finer, I insist. Unless of course you wish to come help me get changed, instead of just watching this time.”
Despite herself, Nyla couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips.
"Go ahead, start without me, I'll find you soon.” He effortlessly lied.
She couldn’t help but find it amusing that he suddenly cared about his attire—especially considering how little shame he’d had earlier, standing stark naked in front of two strangers. Still, she played along, tilting her head in mock consideration.
“You own finery?” she teased, though she was genuinely surprised. At every turn, he seemed to surprise her.
“Fine,” she said with a small, exaggerated sigh. “But don’t take too long. Patience isn’t my strong suit.” She flashed him a playful smile before turning away. Without looking back, she strode toward the tavern, though she remained keenly aware of every step he took—or didn’t take—behind her.
Stepping away felt like a relief. His presence had a way of dominating whatever space he was in, as if it were trying to devour her. Dangerous—and tantalizing. Now, at least, she could gather herself, reel in that thread of poise and control that had started to unravel.
The plan to go to the tavern was only so that she would not be alone with this force of a man. Though she could not deny, he was interesting—if nothing else.
As she strode away, she focused on the basket in her hands, and her thoughts drifted back to the Priestess. A shiver of worry ran down her spine, and the unsettling thought that this stranger might turn back to the temple. She didn’t trust him—didn’t even know his name.
Her steps slowed slightly, her instincts kicking into overdrive now that she had put some distance between them. Decisively, she made up her mind that she would tell a guard to reinforce the watch around the temple, just to be cautious—just in case. She wasn’t sure what exactly troubled her, but something about this entire encounter hadn’t sat right.
Still, despite her nerves and all the walls she had carefully built around herself, she found herself almost hoping he would show up to the tavern. This stranger had been the most intriguing she’d encountered in far too long, and the way he’d unsettled her, thrown her off balance, felt…. oddly refreshing.
It was as if something within her, long dormant, had stirred awake again. The feeling was dangerous, she knew, but it was also thrilling.
She felt alive again.
