eclipse. [ian]

Ian
It's already dark by the time Ian parks his car at Red Rocks. Out past the city, the sky is clear and bright with stars. Overhead, the blood moon has already entered its eclipse. It's still visible in the sky, but the light is muted - dim and coppery beneath the cloak of the earth's shadow. The hood of the audi is warm beneath Ian's back. He's lying with his arms folded under his head as he watches the sky, one foot sprawled over the edge of the car with the other bent at the knee. There's no one around right now. The amphitheater is closed for the night and the park's hours technically ended an hour after sundown, but if there happened to be any guards on patrol, they were nowhere in sight.

(This is because Ian already bribed the lone park ranger with a bottle of whiskey, a very appealing smile and a tiny push of mental influence.)

So by the time Kiara arrives, she'll find the lot nearly-empty and the park dark and deserted, apart from Ian and his car. When he hears the tell-tale hum of a car engine approaching, he gives a long, slow stretch and slides down off the hood, running a hand over the back of his hair.

Kiara

Say what you would about Kiara Woolfe's tiny hatchback, it did have personality.

A tenacious capacity to endure the hardships an owner like the Verbena threw its way, too. It's been cleaned since the last occasion Ian had to glimpse it but the dust and mud is creeping back along the side panels; some coated to the rear window; dust collecting enough that her wipers have cut small pockets of visibility through it. It's a testament to how often the brunette must travel outside of the city limits that it so frequently appears to have returned from some gladiatorial bout in an rural mud pit.

By the time Kiara arrives, the sky has darkened enough that the stars are visible overhead, the moon already beginning to wan into its eclipse.

She parks two spots shy of Ian's (vastly superior) vehicle, pulling up in a small cloud of gravel and dust and appearing out of the confines of her car dressed for the location, if not high end fashion. Jeans, sneakers, a white cotton camisole beneath a fitted short sleeve shirt of muted, spring green. It cinches in around Kiara's narrow waist with the assistance of tiny buttons and her jewelry glints in the evening light (what little remains of it at present) as she pushes shut her car door with a hip, leaning back against it for a moment to observe the blood stained moon above.

"You know there's a prophecy that says the fourth blood moon was supposed to bring about the Apocalypse," Kiara's mouth, a familiar glossy red shade tonight, curves into a smile as her eyes dip to meet his, she watches him approach for a beat and then pushes off her car to meet him half way.

"I think that one came from the Christian camp." The pagan's dark eyes are luminous and bright; her mouth continuing its bent into a supple smile. "Unsurprisingly." She's left her hair out and it settles around her shoulders like a wild thing itself. Her expression shifts, then. The smile becomes a slightly more modest thing, a private little flex at each corner.

"Hi."

IanThey're both dressed for the occasion, which in this case means something more approximate to hiking gear than formal-wear. Ian's pants are specifically intended for that purpose. They're light and durable, made of some kind of dark grey man-made fabric with pockets on the thighs. He's got the cuffs rolled up to mid-calf right now. Below that: expensive-looking athletic shoes. On top: a white t-shirt layered beneath a thin black hoodie. The overshirt is unzipped. He's on the verge of pulling it off but it's cold enough that they might be glad for it later. Kiara pulls up in her hatchback and Ian watches her in the dark. With the moon eclipsed and the city lights far away, it's harder than usual to make out details.

"I don't put much stock in prophecies." She can probably hear the dry amusement in his tone, even if she can't see the smile. Then there's that little hi, and Ian closes the distance between them. He stops when he comes up close, the warmth of his body pressing into her space. There's a little pause (a breath) and then his hands are in her hair and cupping her neck and he kisses her like maybe a part of him had been afraid he might not see her again. Or maybe he just really... wants to kiss her.

(Probably both.)

When he pulls away, he kisses her lower lip once more, softly. "Hi." His voice is low and intimate, and there's a flash of teeth when he smiles.

"I'm glad you're back. Should I grab a flashlight or do you think you can brave the dark?"

KiaraHe kisses her like he'd been concerned he wouldn't see her again and she couldn't blame him for that. Her message to him, before she'd left to trek into the Umbra with Elijah had been vague at best, unsettling at worst. She slides her arms around his shoulders in return and crosses them; lifting herself into his space for the duration of a heartbeat, two. Then opens her eyes into his smile; his teeth flashing in the settling darkness.

There's a flash of hers in return, her hands lingering where they slide over the slope of his back to settle; idly holding to the open flaps of his hoodie.

"I'm glad I am, too," she murmurs against his mouth and her eyes rove over the vague outline of his features she can make out, her fingers coming up briefly to slide over his jaw, tapering off over his neck before she finds one of his hands and takes it; her focus shifting back to the sky overhead; the sight of it seems to arrest her for a moment.

"I'm not afraid of the dark."

She's smiling, he can almost feel the shape and sense of it; the curling, rejuvenating edge to it (to Kiara). "I'd almost forgotten how beautiful it is out here." There's a pause, her thumb stroking the edge of his hand; sliding over a knuckle in a thoughtful, fleeting gesture.

"I wasn't sure how long we'd be gone. I'm glad we didn't miss this."

Ian[Per+Alertness, +2 diff because it's daaark, -2 diff because acute senses]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7) ( success x 3 )

IanIt's a different sort of beauty than the kind found in the umbra. The constellations don't chase each other across the heavens. But the stars are still lovely, and there's something about the immediate realness that the physical plane allows - the grit and the imperfections. There in the sky is the moon. Not a shadow or a dream or a memory of the moon. The actual moon, orbiting in space around the earth. And there is Ian, real and solid and alive beside her.

There is room for wonder on both sides of the gauntlet. Tonight, they will marvel at things a bit less fantastic than dragons and dire wolves.

In the dark, Kiara's hand finds his. Ian lets the moment linger, reluctant to step away. She says she isn't afraid of the dark, and there's another smile at that.

I'm glad we didn't miss this.

"Me too." He lets his hand stay in hers, fingers loosely linked as he turns and begins to walk toward the trail. Even in the dark, his senses pick up enough that he can glean the path, and soon they're hiking up over sand and grass. Indistinct black masses rise up along the sides of the trail, and Ian reaches out to run a palm over the rough-hewn warmth of a rock formation. Occasionally he lets his eyes draw up to the veiled moon.

"What did you find while you were gone?"

Kiara[Hey how quickly are you going to fall over your feet, Kiara?]

Dice: 6 d10 TN8 (3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7) ( fail )

Kiara[Really quickly!]

KiaraShe's lost her strange, otherworldly aura now, Kiara.

Where she'd seemed illuminated from beneath her skin the last time Ian had seen her at the Chantry, she's lost that ripple effect of reality re-asserting itself against the pagan's will. Perhaps the fact she's returned now without any outward signs of trauma is a comfort in and of itself, given her recent track record.

Afraid of the dark she might not be, but capable of navigating her way along the trail quite as confidently as Ian, was another question altogether. She allows him to guide their path, one hand linked with his, the other held out to feel for nearby obstacles and, at least at one point to smooth her hand across the rocks, jutting out from the earth around them.

It's quieter out here, enough that they can hear their own breathing; the scuffle of their progress along the pathway. The distant cries of wildlife; the chirp and hum of a thousand tiny insects; unmolested by the frequent pedestrian traffic that finds them, even so far removed from the city streets. What did you find while you were gone, she makes a noise and there's the sound of a carefully drawn breath behind him.

"The Avatar Storm is gone, for one thing." There's a pause after she says that, as if she understood full well it was a revelation that needed some digestion. Kiara's eyes take in the moon above them. "I don't know when or if I was the last one to feel it, but - it was just gone when we crossed over."

A beat, Kiara's voice grows softer.

"We found the artifact Henry, Elijah's new mentor, was searching for. It was a crown, it belonged to one of my tradition's ancestors. The Aeduna. It was reputed to have great power, but - " There's an abrupt halt to Kiara's story as she missteps and trips over a low cluster of rocks; propelling her nearly headlong into Ian. She lets out a sudden breath of laughter and uses his body as a brace.

She straightens, sweeping the fall of her hair from her eyes. "Leah. Henry brought her with us. The Aeduna, the crown's former owner." Something like sympathy creeps into the brunette's voice. " - it was, it used to be, Leah. He didn't tell her that he suspected it, I don't think even Elijah knew." Kiara hesitates a moment, breathes out.

"I think he had good intentions for bringing her but I'm not sure she agrees. Or if she'll forgive him for that."

IanIan could recognize this place by smell alone. The particular combination of sandstone, scrub and Colorado air. He's been down this trail often enough not to feel lost in the dark, even were his senses to fail. And perhaps he ought to think twice about hiking out into the wilderness during an eclipse without a light-source, but there's no sense of anxiety in him tonight. At least, not until Kiara tells him that the Avatar Storm is gone. His steps are light and sure-footed on the path, but there's a moment right after she says it when he slows to a near-stop, trailing fingers over a jutting outcrop of stone.

It ought to be good news. Surely the Council would celebrate it. There were those yet old enough to remember when traversing the Umbra wasn't such a dire risk. When the Council held sway over a host of Horizon Realms. Ian wasn't one of them. As long as he'd known of the Umbra's existence, he'd known of the Storm.

It ought to be good news. Instead, Ian's first thought is toward the Technocracy, and what this will mean if Atreyu's predictions are true. It makes the muscles settle in his shoulders. This heavy acceptance of things he cannot hope to change. "...Oh." The verbal response is soft and slow to materialize. A beat later his steps pick back up to normal pace, and Kiara continues to relay her story until...

Kiara's weight tumbles into his back, and Ian, caught by surprise, gives a sudden exhale of laughter to go along with her own. It cuts some of the tension from the air, and she can feel his muscles relax when she gasps onto him for support. This time he does stop moving, putting an arm out to help Kiara regain her balance.

"I'm... less surprised by that than I think I should be. Is this crown something we can use?"

KiaraThere is tension that underplays it all. The revelation about the Storm, about what they'd uncovered. Ian's response to discovering it was gone is not dissimilar to the Verbena's initial reaction once the surprise had worn off. She hadn't believed it was possible (or maybe she just didn't enjoy the possibilities that it opened up) on either side.

She hangs on to his arm for another moment, regaining her equilibrium.

"Could we? If we found the stones that were missing and reunited them with it, possibly. They were gone when we pulled it out of the cave, after ... " She lets it trail off, her thoughts, her impressions and he can feel it, not simply translated through her touch, still steady on his arm; curled around his shoulder and bicep, but in her voice. In the tiny falter, there. After what, then?

"I don't think we should, though. The Aeduna were powerful and anything they crafted would be equally so. We put that sort of capacity in anyone's hands and I think it could backfire on us. Leah wouldn't even look at it after everything, so I gave it to Henry to keep. Just touching it was enough to make me feel ... different." Kiara's touch falls away from him and she lifts her chin, looks up toward the sky. It's very dark, here. There is more of a sense of the Verbena and the heat of her near proximity than a clear vision of her.

Of dark eyes and a face expressive of lingering unease.

Of their discovery, of its potential. "The power of the Gods. Leah said a lot of people have died for it."

Kiara

There is tension that underplays it all. The revelation about the Storm, about what they'd uncovered. Ian's response to discovering it was gone is not dissimilar to the Verbena's initial reaction once the surprise had worn off. She hadn't believed it was possible (or maybe she just didn't enjoy the possibilities that it opened up) on either side.

She hangs on to his arm for another moment, regaining her equilibrium.

"Could we? If we found the stones that were missing and reunited them with it, possibly. They were gone when we pulled it out of the cave, after ... " She lets it trail off, her thoughts, her impressions and he can feel it, not simply translated through her touch, still steady on his arm; curled around his shoulder and bicep, but in her voice. In the tiny falter, there. After what, then?

"I don't think we should, though. The Aeduna were powerful and anything they crafted would be equally so. We put that sort of capacity in anyone's hands and I think it could backfire on us. Leah wouldn't even look at it after everything, so I gave it to Henry to keep. Just touching it was enough to make me feel ... different." Kiara's touch falls away from him and she lifts her chin, looks up toward the sky. It's very dark, here. There is more of a sense of the Verbena and the heat of her near proximity than a clear vision of her.

Of dark eyes and a face expressive of lingering unease.

Of their discovery, of its potential. "The power of the Gods. Leah said a lot of people have died for it."

[reposting for me]

Ian[Dex+Ath, +1 diff because it's dark]

Dice: 8 d10 TN7 (3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 8, 8) ( success x 3 )

IanIt's too dark to make out the details in Kiara's expression, but Ian casts his eyes toward her anyway. His senses fix on her for a moment, noting the change in her voice; the way her words trail off. He doesn't interrupt - lets her finish answering his question before he gives this muted, thoughtful sound. It's ambiguous enough to hint at a more complex response than the one he ultimately vocalizes.

"It's a risk to hold on to valuable things. Other people will try to take it." He finds her hand and lets his fingers curl around hers again, locking their palms together. There's a steadiness to the way he touches her that feels grounded and (perhaps) a little protective. "Normally I'd say keeping it isn't worth that risk."

Normally.

"I think you should be careful who you tell. Even if it isn't functional. But you probably know that already."

His steps are slow when he starts walking again, giving Kiara time to find her footing on the uneven ground. They're making their way toward a large rock formation further down the trail. Ian can make out little more than a vague impression, but he remembers the spot. He's been there before - perched up on the tallest boulder watching the sun set across the vast open sky. It is, in fact, one of his favorite places. By the time they get there, the shadow over the moon has inched a bit further to one side. It won't be long before the eclipse starts to recede. Ian puts a hand out to touch the rock, finding the handholds he knows are there. He drops Kiara's hand long enough to scale his way up the rock. She'll here the telltale sound of shoes on sandstone, and a few moments later he's leaning down to offer her his hand.

"The view's great up here."

Ian[Edit: here = hear. Honestly, self.]

Kiara[Dex + Ath, come on Ms Woolfe, impress me, I won't add a diff only because she's being actively helped up but, are you feeling dexterous tonight?]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 3, 5, 9) ( success x 1 )

KiaraShe nearly slips on the way up the boulder, too.

Her sneakers can't find the friction they need as she grasps Ian's hand and he can hear the soft gasp she makes, the way her weight pulls at him, threatening to drag him down like an anchor heavily toward the ground for a beat before she's gripping at his arms and scrambling up the rest of the way to arrive beside him; breathing a little rougher than she should have been for the difficulty involved.

"I guess I'm a little more tired than I thought."

She sounds a little surprised at herself, though there is, contained in there, a thread of weariness. Whatever adventures she'd recently been on, they can't have been without a considerable amount of physical (and emotional) endurance being required. She doesn't linger in it, though, Kiara. The realization of how ingrained her exhaustion might actually have been whether she acknowledges it or not. She just slides her fingers over his wrist in the dark, links their hands together and leans into him to rest a head on his shoulder.

(She never has been afraid of invading his personal space.)

She lets the silence settle there, for a long time (or so it feels), watching the moon slide out of sight and begin its return. Breathes in the scents of the wild around them and revels, just a little, in the sensations of it. The heat of the man beside her; the places their bodies are connected; the sounds of the world around them. The city isn't so distant from them here that faint noises don't still reach them, penetrating even out into the great rock formations but they feel hazy, distant and half formed.

"Do you ever want to stay in a place forever?" She says finally, her cheek brushing his shoulder. "Just - never go back? Leave it all behind."

IanTo his credit, he doesn't tease her about the less-than-agile ascent. Maybe on a different day. Maybe if the sun were out and they'd been racing and goading each other as they sometimes do. There's a different energy between them tonight. Ian keeps his balance when she slips, gripping her hand tightly so as not to drop her if she falls. Thankfully she doesn't, and though it takes a bit of effort, Kiara eventually joins him on top of the rock formation. The breeze is cool as it gusts around them. Kiara leans into his space, resting her head on his shoulder, and Ian's free arm finds its way around her frame instinctively. There's another sound he makes there, soft and resonant in his chest.

Do you ever want to stay in a place forever?

He closes his eyes. She doesn't see the expression that paints itself across his face. (Doesn't know the memory she just touched.)

"Sometimes," he admits quietly.

He unwinds himself carefully, giving her hand a little tug to let her know he's sitting down. There's a soft scrape of his feet on the stone as he settles down to watch the sky. When she joins him, he pulls her back against his chest, his legs bent at the knee and resting along the outside of her own. Once she's settled, his hands slide loosely around her waist.

Above them, a delicate sliver of white light appears at the moon's outer edge. Against the veiled copper-red shadow of the eclipse, it seems almost impossibly bright.

"This won't happen again for another eighteen years." There's a moment of quiet appreciation in his voice. Reverence for the beauty and wonder of the world they live in - how vast it is, and how small they are within it.

KiaraThere's something finely-woven and infinitely fragile to this moment.

The way they settle on top of the boulder, nothing but moonlight to illuminate (and right now, barely at all) their movements, to gauge where they were in relation to the ground, to each other. Ian settles down on the stone and Kiara slips down with tentativeness to join him; her body easily situating itself in the cradle his bent legs form.

When he tugs her back against him, Kiara's head settles in the crook of his neck; this close he can smell the vaguely sweet scent of her shampoo; the cloying scent of whatever incense she'd last been burning; it clings to her clothing; feels embedded into her skin and hair. That combination of vanilla and sage and something else, sharper, like the pine needles that dotted the ground in the distance.

She makes a quiet noise of agreement when he notes there won't be another blood moon like this, combined with the way it hangs, large and ornate above them, for years to come. Runs her fingertips along his arms where they encircle her waist; her nails ghosting along his skin; tracing small, intricate patterns along his forearm; down to his wrist and returning.

"I'll be in my forties the next time this happens." There's a twinge of something wry in her voice. "That's slightly terrifying." A beat, she lifts one of her hands to find the edge of his jaw by touch, slides her thumb along the curve of it. "I can't imagine myself at that age. What I'd be like." She says it into the darkness and perhaps there's deliberation to that. That he can't see her expression, the vaguely haunted shadow to her eyes, the edge of her mouth.

(I can't imagine I'll still be here).

"We should come out here more often. I can show you the other side. The way I see it."

IanWhen Kiara settles her head against his neck, Ian closes his eyes and lets out a long exhale. She can feel it winding through his body, relaxing muscles one by one. His chest, even through their clothes, is warm against her back. It shouldn't still surprise him - how easily they fit together; how much her body feels like home when it's tucked into his own. There's a feeling that he can't entirely vocalize, and on another night it might have unsettled him, but tonight he just... lets it be.

They'll be in their forties the next time they see this. (If they see it.) Ian laughs softly at that. The inflection of his voice has an almost purring warmth to it. "You'll be beautiful and terrifying and vital and wise, and I'm sure I'll still be excruciatingly attracted to you." He dips his head to chase the movement of her thumb, catching it briefly with his lips. She says they ought to come out there more often, and he hums his agreement.

"The sunsets are nice."

One of his hands plays at the edge of her shirt, working up under the fabric to trail the tips of his fingers over the warmth of her skin.

"I can see across, when I choose to. But I can't touch it. I wouldn't mind seeing it through your eyes."

Kiara"Mm," there's a low, teasing quality to her voice. "See, you had me right up until you reached wise, Ian Lai." She so rarely says his name like that, drawn out and in full, there's a strange level of intimacy to it. The way it sounds on her tongue, a foreign appreciation for the way Kiara lets it drag out and then offers a tiny hum of pleasure when he gently closes his mouth around her thumb.

He can feel the way her ribcage expands and contracts as she breathes, the way they're sitting, could feel the steady beat of her heart beneath her clothing if he attuned himself enough. The little flutter it gives when he touches her body beneath her clothing; a thousand tiny receptors firing all at once beneath her skin centered directly beneath where his fingers trail over her skin.

He calls her vital and that much seems appropriate; there's a sense of it even when she's still; the coil of it; her presence; that delicate pulsing quality to her, interlaced with the flush of new life. It's difficult to imagine Kiara Woolfe feeling anything other than rejuvenating, like wrapping your arms around a surging, crackling current of pure volatility; an impression of nature in red lips and dark, gleaming eyes. "I could teach you, how to reach out and feel it." Her fingers skim down and slide over his, where he's trailing them over her skin.

She turns her face into his neck and he can feel the tickle of her eyelashes when she dips them, her voice warm and low and intimate, speaking near his ear. "Out here, at the Chantry. It's beautiful. Everything is a little more honest, even how we see ourselves." He can feel her smile. "Besides, if I found a way to connect Samir to it, you shouldn't be a harder challenge than that.

I think he nearly ran away from my pagan sorcery." There's the barest laugh, there. A huff of amusement at the enduring perception her ilk have etched for themselves in history. The herbalists. The wise women. The witches and their nefarious schemes. "But, I could. Show you the way it feels to me."

Ian

There's a contrary inflection in his voice when he laughs at that - the way she says he had her until he said wise. (See, he thinks he's right on that count.) But he doesn't voice any further argument. The smile lingers on his lips after she says his name. It's the first time he's really heard her say it like that. Elijah used to say it often: Ian Lai. Like he needed two names to fit the size of his persona. It's different when Kiara says it. More intimate.

Everything between them is.

He keeps touching her, mapping the soft warmth of her stomach with these slow, circular motions. His body shifts a little on the stone, legs pressing in at her hips, and there's a soft exhale when he dips his head down to kiss the corner of her jaw. He has to unwind his other arm so he can push the hair back from her neck and shoulder. Then his mouth is there, kissing slowly along the curve of her throat. He lets the kisses linger for a long time, counting the beats of her pulse beneath his lips.

"I like your pagan sorcery." And beat, and he smiles softly against her neck. "I don't think I'll be much of a challenge."

Briefly, his eyes cast back to the moon. It's a little brighter now. Funny to think how it's up there, moving. How the Earth itself is spinning. How things get caught within each other's gravity.

"Wo xiang yongyuan liu zai zheli."

It's the first time he's spoken Mandarin around her. The first time he's used it at all, really, in months. It isn't something he normally does - slip into the wrong language. Not the way Elijah did that day with Henry.

He kisses her again, after he says it, and this time it's less sensual and more... like he needs it. The connection to her skin. Her body folded up against his own.

KiaraIt was funny the things darkness could do.

Cover and uncover truths, veil or unveil perceptions. Without the awareness that clear vision offers, all they have to translate tone and meaning and intent is their voices and their bodies - the latter had always been the easiest. It had also been the first real way they connected to each other - beyond easy flirtation and banter there was a conversation that happened when they let their bodies convey intention for them.

It was as easy (and terrifying) as breathing, in some respects.

But then - the pagan was a student of life, in more ways than one. Attuning herself to and listening with her body was instinctive for Kiara. Every part of her seems to sing when he kisses her jaw, the dove-soft skin beneath her chin, the slope of a shoulder. She makes soft, nearly interrogative noises when he stops his ministrations and her eyes open on the sky above them; the tiny pinpricks of light; the returning potency of the moon.

It soaks into the Verbena's skin, the strength of it. The governance and heraldry she puts in its presence, the constancy of its trajectory over the night sky.

When he speaks again its not words she understands and yet, there's a lashing sort of sincerity to them that pulls another noise from her throat. That turns her face when he kisses her skin again and drags their mouths into an unsure alignment. She kisses the corner of his mouth. Again. Her hand rising to cup the back of his neck, he can feel the cool press of her ring; the slide of fine bracelets down her wrist.

Her body is half twisted there in the cradle of his and her hand regretfully abandons his neck to slide down, under his shirt. A blind quest for the feel of his bare skin against her palms, perhaps.

"That's beautiful."  She seems to mean the sound of it, the way it falls from his lips. At least, if the way her hand slides back to his jaw is any indication it does. "Say something else?"

Ian[Life 1, practiced]

Dice: 3 d10 TN3 (1, 2, 3) ( success x 1 )

Ian[and again, apparently. +1 and -1 (resonance: primal)]

Dice: 3 d10 TN3 (2, 5, 10) ( success x 2 )

IanThe words sound fluent, the way they slide off his tongue. Fluid and natural. It's harder to lose languages when you learn them at birth. Kiara kisses the corner of his mouth and he doesn't move immediately to deepen it. Just closes his eyes and goes still like he's etching the moment into his memory. Then he takes a breath and moves his lips over her own, grazing them slowly.

"Wo bu zhidao gai shuo xie shenme. Guanyu ni de yiqie dou rang wo jingkong wanfen. Wo pa wo hui shanghai ni. Wo pa ni hui shanghai wo. Wo pa wo hui shiqu ni."

He pulls his mouth away and looks at her. In the shard of light seeping down from the dark sky, he can make out the shape of her eyes. The way they shine. He's listening to her heartbeat now. The motion of his hand stalls when it wraps around her hip. Kiara has her hand under his shirt too, and the skin there feels almost hot to the touch.

"Ni zhidao ni shi duome piaoliang ma? Wo..."

The words trail off there, and his pulse ticks up into an almost frantic register. Maybe she'll feel it, the way his body tenses; the way his lips part to allow these shallow, quick breaths.

He doesn't say it that way. In this language she doesn't know. Won't let himself be that much of a coward.

The next breath is long and deep. He leans in to press his lips against hers and doesn't quite pull away when he says, "I love you."

Kiara[Quick WP check.]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 8) ( success x 1 )

KiaraShe doesn't expect it, is the thing.

There they are in the darkness, lit only by moonlight and surrounded by the wilderness and she doesn't expect him to say that. She's listening, with her hand under his clothing and her face tipped back toward his; near enough that she can feel the way his breath ghosts against her cheek and there's a certain way she's looking at him, her eyes dark and glinting and only half visible that maybe she wouldn't, if it were stark daylight.

If it didn't feel like a half suspended dream, in the moment.

He's feeling the heat of her; the steady rhythm of her heart beneath her skin and maybe he draws the courage from that, too. The way she feels wound around him, present and vital and so utterly alive in his arms, wrapped up with him. She's fought a dragon and stepped across worlds in the last few days and yet - when he takes that long dragging breath in and leans down to kiss her and says -

I love you

- there's a significant chance she's never been quite so terrified. He can sense it, too. The sudden tension that runs through her. The way her entire body seems to wage a war with itself in tandem with the complicated flicker of emotions that run through her eyes, that curl her mouth into a half formed expression of surprise and - so it feels, uncharacteristic shyness.

"Ian - " It sounds so much like she's about to deny it, to push him away and curl her arms around herself as if to protect herself from the reality of his words. To keep that offering as distant and removed from herself as she could, because the alternative was - too big, too precious a thing to be set to her to keep. Kiara Woolfe was not the keeper of hearts.

But there's a hesitation, then. He can feel it, the rapid pace of her pulse, the way she struggles for a long moment to untangle her thoughts. How many times had she told him (warned him) she had a talent for breaking things that mattered to her.

Especially when they did.

"I don't - I mean I do, but - " There's a small noise, a half formed, shaky exhale. "God, I can't even do this right. I love you, too." Her eyes are wide, almost frantic in the dark. "I'm a little terrified of that." There's still a tension (possibly more so, now) in Kiara that suggests she's fighting back the urge to run.

Ian

He can remember the exact moment when he last said those words to another person. There's an almost heartbreaking clarity to it, the memory. Even after nearly ten years. The smell of Naomi's hair drifting into a curtain around his face, her dark eyes gazing down, wide and velvet-soft. Sounds of neighboring kids playing field hockey in the road. Afternoon sun slanting in through the blinds to leave streaks of light on the wall. He said: can I stay here forever? And she said...

...stay as long as you want.

The stutter-drum pulse of his heart (I love you.)

The searing press of her lips, branding her answer into his skin (I love you, I love you, I love you...)

He was having sex when his parents died. When his sister's tiny body was crushed beneath the wheels of a truck. Turns out sometimes forever doesn't last very long at all.

But the thing is, for a few impossible heartbeats when he kisses Kiara and says those words, he doesn't think about anything but her. Doesn't exist in any time but the one they're in. He isn't expecting her to say it back. Even as he says it, he thinks he knows how this is going to end. That he just took one step too far and broke something. He thinks she's going to leave, and for a moment she almost does. Ian, she says, and his heartbeat slows as this odd sort of calm comes over him. Already he can feel the world resettling into familiar lines.

I don't...

His arms fall away, dropping back to rest his hands on the stone. He can feel the violent pulse of fear and anxiety in her pattern and knows it's because of him. There is a moment of regret in that - flicker-soft and bruised. But then the tone changes, and she says something else. Awkward and hesitant. Ian tilts his head and looks at her.

In the sky, the visible section of the moon glows bright like a lantern.

"You don't have to..." he starts to say. "I don't expect anything. I just... wanted to tell you."

Kiara still looks as though she might run, and Ian doesn't try to contain that impulse. Doesn't lock his arms around her and pull her to him the way he did moments ago. Instead he waits quietly, watching her with this complicated, slightly vulnerable expression.

"I'm sorry if I fucked things up."

Kiara

I'm sorry if I fucked things up.

"You didn't." She stresses, and then with a shaky little exhale: "You haven't. I think they've always been that way."

She reaches for him, then. It's not a frantic, frenetic gesture the way it might have been given the way her heart is racing beneath her chest and fear still has its talons set deep into her. She gives him (herself) that much control, demands her hands not shake when she reaches out to touch him on the wrist; to curl her fingers there (be my anchor, keep me here). "Sometimes when we're together I want to keep going. I want to - " she breaks off, momentarily lost for how to articulate her thoughts. There's vulnerability on her face, too. An almost sweet sort of uncertainty, the way her mouth shapes her frustration, her eyes focusing beyond him, outwards, upwards.

Kiara looks at the moon, at the sliver of it that's returning into sight. She seems to take some measure of comfort from it. From the place where she's touching Ian. Feeling the steady reminder of his presence. Of its presence, high above them. "I think about you, when we're not together. When I was in the Umbra with Elijah. I wanted you with me. Not just because I trust you, but if I was going to walk into something blind, I'd want you there. I wanted to tell you that, before I left but I couldn't find the words."

She drops her face, then. Dark strands of hair fall across her cheeks, in the darkness, they spill like black ink over her features, half concealing her expression from him.

"I'm not sure how to do this. I've never wanted to try to. I'm still half convinced we should just walk away from whatever this is, but - " She stops, scoots a little closer to him until their knees brush and she puts her hands out to touch his shoulders, his jaw. They flutter with uncharacteristic uncertainty before landing, like startled birds. Her pulse leaping like some wild thing at the base of her neck, against her ribs.  "I don't want to stop feeling the way I do when I'm with you."

She leans into his space but doesn't breach it further to kiss him. "I'm selfish and I'm scared I'm going to hurt you, but I wanted you to know. That I do." Her eyes dip, she lifts a shoulder in some supple, subtle gesture. A helpless shrug of surrender. "I need you."

IanIt's... more than he's expecting. And for a moment he's almost painfully conscious of the fact that what she's just said ought to make him recoil. Need is not a word he's ever been any good at hearing. That he can sit there now and listen to her say it and not feel that same sense of nauseating panic...

He doesn't know what to do with it. What it even means.

For a few long seconds, he actually forgets to breath. Kiara touches his wrist, his shoulders, his jaw, seeking the kind of connection they've always found so natural (even when they were strangers,) and when she leans close he almost bridges the gap to kiss her. There's a tiny, fractional movement of his neck before he stops - hesitates. Because she's still talking and he wants to hear...

Oh.

Another beat of silence and he takes this sudden, deep breath, sending a jolt oxygen into his blood. "How do you do that?"

The next moment his lips are on hers and his hands are in her hair and he's kissing her like she's the air he needs to breath. There's a moment when everything slows, when his lips brush hers and he says, "I'm here. I'm always here." Then he pulls her into his lap and holds her with his arms wrapped tightly around her back. Her knees are pressed in at his hips and she can feel his rib-cage expand every time he inhales. The pulse point at the base of his neck is drumming hard, but not quite so frantic as it was a moment ago.

"I am so..." he gives this quiet breath of laughter. "I couldn't walk away from you if I tried, I think."

He kisses her again, at the edge of her lower lip, then softly underneath her chin. Something about the way he does it feels just a little bit like surrender.

Kiara[Life 1, doo de doo, we're just doing a thing.]

Dice: 3 d10 TN3 (6, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )

KiaraThere's so much power in words, which may, in some ways, be why they both struggle so powerfully at making use of them. Kiara doesn't tell him that part of her response, that instinctive panic to being told he loves her is the bone deep realization that it's the first time since her mentor died she's heard the words from anybody and felt sure they were true.

The only other person the Verbena has ever heard them from had left (her) the city.

It cut deeper than perhaps Kiara had even noted to him, that her best friend had found the capacity to leave her behind when so much of who they were was tangled up in one another. The worse pain perhaps that there was no real severing of that connection - an absence could only be a true one when there was something torn away, pulled out of orbit, when there was silence to be felt.

Sadie's absence was a perpetual wound, raw and real and endured because there was no other option. The tension pulled taut but never released.

How do you do that?

And he's pulling her into his lap and into his arms and Kiara's mouth is bruising on his. In the wake of what she said how could it be anything but, really? How could she not curl her hands up, under, his clothing with impatient, desperate movements and press her meaning right into his skin with her palms. There's a quiet breath of laughter and Kiara buries her face in the curve of his neck in response.

Puts her lips right over that pulse at the base of his neck and he can feel that, too.

The warmth of it; the way her hands seem to be feeding a surge of energy right into his bones; she breathes out and pulls back, lifts her face enough to meet his eyes; her mouth curled up at the edges; she's kissed him hard enough to cut it at the corner, this tiny mark of her momentary savagery and it's there again, as the moon reveals herself above them and in turn; offers a gradual revelation of their bodies; of their expressions; just how very much the Verbena is a child of nature.

Her hair a dark, tangled web around her face; her eyes gleaming and full of things she can't quite fathom into words. The sense of her will, too, the way her pattern pulses and surges against his with revitalizing energy. She pulls back, settling on her knees in his arms and slides a hand around to find his chest; everywhere she traces her fingers leaving a brandish; a tingling, electric current.

There's nothing in him that needs that energy, but he can feel it, Kiara's touch, sliding under his skin.

"Yeah." She says and then leans in to press her mouth to his. It tastes faintly copper-tinged. At another time, for a different reason, there might have been something ritualistic to that; the exchange of blood. The swearing of some kind of loyalty. "I know. I can feel it." She makes a low noise in her throat, her arms winding around his neck; pushing him over.

She'd told him once, not so long ago, that he could get lost in her, go as deep as he liked.

She tangles herself up with him now and returns the favor.