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The half-elf sighed as he stepped through the door, moving to the side to make room for Silverthorn. "Well," he cleared his throat and eyed the seared marks on the floor and wall, "It's amazing what a little balefire can do a place."
There were broken bits of glass and wood scattered all over the place, the remains of a table, several shelves, trinkets and other assorted sundries. Y’Roden nudged part of a gold statue with his food, "My poor chicken."
You did do a number on it, didn't you?" Silverthorn said dryly as she looked around the room. She picked her way through the wreckage to study the scorch marks on the wall. Fortunately they didn't seem to have gone through to the neighboring apartment so at least the wall was still intact.
"Uhm, maybe.. just a bit? You think?" Y’Roden was still nudging stuff around with the toe of his boot. "What do you think? Can we salvage any of it?" He picked up a bit of silver that had once been a brooch Summerlin had given him. It was tarnished, but at his touch it flared like new. Well, the spell seemed to have lasted longer then the object.
Good question she replied, looking around. "Some of it maybe. There are some pieces that seem a little beyond repair though. Perhaps if we tried sorting them out we could see what we could do something with and what there's no hope for."
Some things seemed to have just disappeared, but other's seemed somewhat intact. Y’Roden cast a relieved look at Silverthorn and smiled, "Thank you, I don't think I'd have the willpower to go through it on my own. There were things here..." He looked away and ran a hand through his hair, "Well, anyway."
Leaning down he picked up a gold wing off the floor, "Most of the chicken seems to be here, it's the statue from hell that just won't die... I swear." He paused and picked up a thin metal circlet, "And unfortunately this survived too." With a sigh he settled the crown onto his brow. "They make these to well if you ask me."
The chicken would probably have come back to haunt you anyway if you'd managed to destroy it" Silverthorn replied dryly as she picked up some more fragments of the statue and added it to the pile. She looked across as he placed the circlet on his head, "You sound as if you'd like to be rid of it" she commented.
"Oh that's all I need, its bad enough I have a demon stalker, but a chicken haunt as well?" He chuckled a bit, even though Samara wasn't in the least a funny subject.
Smiling a little ruefully he shrugged, "I never asked to be Crown Prince, but the fate of two civilizations rely on me taking the throne someday. If I don't a treaty will have been broken and chaos will ensue. Its a bit heavy of a load to be shouldering." It was a brief explanation for a very complicated situation. Gathering fragments of objects as he spoke he set them down in separate piles.
Nodding Silverthorn said, "Responsibilities don't tend to respect the wishes of individuals" she agreed. "They just have to be dealt with I suppose."
"I find the whole idea of hierarchies strange," Y’Roden said softly, "One is born into responsibility, there is never individual choice in the matter. Some say we live in luxury, and that we owe that to our people. The idea is a sound enough one, but the eight hundred years I spend in Tenobrous.... well lets just say that luxury has hardly been at the apex of my life."
He looked around for a moment, "Well, it seems we have gathered all of the salvageable pieces. Remind me to throw my next temper tantrum outside will you?"
But that would have taken all the fun out of smashing things, wouldn't it?" Silverthorn said dryly. The dark-haired elf rarely lost her temper these days. Not that she never got angry but she had learnt to control it. The only downside to this was that when the control slipped the results tended to be messy.
"Where do you want this?" she asked, indicating the pile they had made.
"Well," he mused, "I suppose we could try fixing the pieces, yes? Are you any good with restoration spells? " He paused to study her face for a moment, "I can... well, I can magnify them." What ever had possessed him to tell her that? A typical D’Riel he rarely shared the information. Mainly because it involved contact with his soul during the process. Y’Roden was touchy about letting people in, even more so then your average D’Riel. It could all be attributed to Samara really...
A brief flicker of surprise showed in her eyes at his last statement. Although she had never even attempted to magnify a spell herself she had a fair idea what the process involved. It was far harder to maintain shields if you were acting as the go between. "I can do restoration spells" she agreed quietly, "but are you sure about this?"
Y’Roden didn't say anything for a moment, his eyes silently searching Silverthorn's for something, although it wasn't apparent what that something was.
"Yes," he said finally, "I'm sure." He looked down at the little piles, his gaze coming to rest on a small gathering of silver. "Wait..." He bent to pick it up, the emerald of his eyes darkening as he went to set it out of the way. "No sense in fixing that," he murmured.
Coming back to stand in front of Silverthorn he smiled at her briefly, "I'm a genetic Augmenter," he told her, "Think of me as a living magnifying glass." Tentatively he took her hands in his and placed them on the soft black fabric of his shirt over his upper chest. "It works best cross gender, if you were male it would only boost the spell a minimal amount, but since you are female the magnification can reach dangerous levels."
He had learned the hard way that warnings were a good idea. "Close you eyes and make contact with my soul, I'll guide you the conduit."
For a moment her eyes met his, a slight trace of nervousness visible. Making contact with his soul also exposed her own and she usually worked very hard to prevent that. Then she gave a small nod and closed her eyes. As she concentrated her breathing slowed. Slowly the shields that she used to keep everyone else out dropped. It was such a long time since she had let that happen completely that it felt slightly strange without them. Pushing that feeling of oddness aside she focused simply on what she was supposed to be doing.
Very few people had ever touched Y’Roden’s soul, anyone outside a D’Riel that is. Ghetsuhm had delved the deepest, and had open use of the conduit; Summerlin on the other hand had been kept on the outskirts, far from the demon that rested in the center.
The half-elf closed his eyes, opening himself up to the woman in front of him, letting down the shields that kept most out, and the demon in. Her spirit touched his tentatively, and he recognized the same hesitation in her that lived within him. Somehow that made it easier, and he reached out to brush her being, guiding her onwards.
The conduit slid open, a small opening to what could become a wide resonating chamber of power when he needed it. For this task a little was enough. He kept Silverthorn well away from the dark fragment wedged into his soul, Samara's twisted tendril of intrusion into the light. Here we are... he sent out to her softly...
Cautiously Silverthorn began the spell. She could feel the conduit now. Unseen by the pair, pools of the fine silvery mist of her magic gathered around her hands as they rested on his chest. The mist swirled up around them and then, magnified, drifted off across the room. Wherever they settled pieces came together.
Y’Roden relaxed into the sensation, the feel of Aethyr being woven and the small draw on the conduit in his soul. If there was anything he enjoyed as much as pain and women, it was magic. The Aethyr was part of him, he lived and breathed it.
A sudden stirring deeper in his soul caught his attention and the half-elf's eyes snapped open. Fortunately Silverthorn's were closed, and she missed the flicker of his lids, revealing the crimson eyes of the Demon Elf. Snarling inwardly Y’Roden regained control of himself, locking away the darkness he harbored, struggling to keep the visions brought with it from Silverthorn's mind.
Samara had apparently felt the female elf's presence, and the lowering of Ro's guard. Her attempt to regain a hold on him was thwarted and she stilled with an angry growl. Cursing himself the Prince of Corin set him mind back on the task at hand.
A flicker of darkness at the edge of 'vision' startled Silverthorn, breaking her concentration. Her shields were too far down to defend against it. To her horror she felt something stir in the back of her mind. The fine silvery mists that shrouded the room started to dissipate, a black streak threading through them. Desperately she slammed the door on the dark magic threatening to break through. Her breath shuddered through her lungs.
Y’Roden’s eyes flew open when a tendril of dark magic whispered past, confusion marking his features as he gazed around the room. Watching the silvery tendrils dissipate it struck him that Silverthorn had been the source of it. "Oh Gods, I'm sorry," he whispered when he felt her shudder against his chest, "I should have warned you."
His hands moved automatically to support her, closing on Silverthorn's waist as they both swayed on the spot. "I keep thinking I have it under control, and then it sneaks through, I'm sorry." The corner's of his eyes crinkled with worry, "Are you alright?" He seemed completely oblivious to the fact that the front of his shirt was soaked through with blood, the old wound on his abdomen having cracked open in reaction to Samara's presence.
Join the club she said in a slightly distracted voice as she concentrated on closing off the final little gap through which her dark magic was bleeding. The sensation of her bones starting to move beneath her skin as if they were trying to change form determined the issue. She knew she could never hold the spell together if she shifted. It sounded almost like a click inside her head as that last little gap closed. Staggering slightly, disorientated, her head dropped forward onto his shoulder. "I'll be fine, just give me a minute,” she said slightly breathlessly.
Y’Roden, for some reason, wasn't aware that Silverthorn was a shifter. His eyes widened a bit when the other elf's ribs shifted oddly beneath his hands, it was only the slightest movement, but enough to catch his attention.
A startled look crossed his face when the elf let her head drop forward onto his chest, Ro's arms automatically moving to hold her close. The fingers of one hand trailed up the center of Silverthorn's back to touch her hair, smoothing it down in a comforting gesture. "It's alright," he said softly.
The air around them was magnetized with the magic of D’Riel blood, a crackling of power on the Aethyr that caused the hairs on the back of one's neck to stand on end.
The fingers that smoothed down her hair felt oddly comforting and yet it was that very sensation of comfort that made Silverthorn start to pull away. It was a defensive reaction that she wasn't even aware of making. "Sorry," she said quietly, "I'm alright now." She glanced down, "You are aware that you're bleeding, aren't you?" she commented. Her tone was mild. She wasn't sure she had the energy to get stressed at the moment.
The moment Silverthorn stepped away Y’Roden wanted her back where she had been, but he let her go. Her words filtered through the haze of his mind and he looked down, touching the damp fabric of his shirt. His fingers came away a brilliant red and he sighed. "If I ever get rid of that bitch it won't be a moment to soon."
Tugging at the buttons of his shirt he peeled it away from his skin. "She should at least pay my dry-cleaning bill," he muttered. The jagged wound was already starting to slowly close, an odd knitting of the flesh that left an angry scar.
For some reason his muttered comment struck Silverthorn as funny. A glint of amusement appeared in her eyes. "Demons can be so inconsiderate that way,” she said dryly.
She turned away as he began to peel the shirt off, her gaze sweeping over the room. Despite the distraction at the end the spell seemed to have worked. Or perhaps she should make that mostly worked, she thought, picking up one of the objects in the pile. The item in question was certainly fixed but it was now jet-black. "I don't remember this being that color,” she muttered.
Y’Roden couldn't help but laugh, "Yes, but she's normally so considerate," he grinned. "When she has what she wants that is."
He looked up to see what she was talking about and eyed the object curiously. "Well, that's because it wasn't," he said, "But it kind of looks good that way. Oh look! The chicken is fixed!"
Oh well she said as she put the object down again, "as long as you don't mind I suppose". She had a nasty suspicion what had made the item change color and she was trying not to think about it. It had been awhile since she'd had that particular inheritance slip away from her control like that and she hadn't liked it at all. Each time it seemed to be harder to put the lid on it. Pushing that thought to one side she studied the chicken, "Why do you have a statue of a chicken?" she asked curiously.
"You know," Ro said, eyeing said statue, "I have no idea, I don't remember putting it in here in the first place." Eyeing the rest of the room he channeled the excess energy that was lingering on the Aethyr from the presence of his blood and wove another spell. A breeze swept through the room, catching Silverthorn's hair and tousling it as the rest of the debris was cast away, and the scorch marks faded away to nothing.
"Well that was the easy part," he said, suddenly bending over to pick up a small silver object. "Oh look! Valin's baby rattle!" A Father's love shone on his face briefly as he set the tiny bauble back on its shelf.
He paused and sighed, "I think I need a drink... care to join me?" Stepping over the pile he headed for the kitchen.
The expression that crossed Y’Roden’s face as he placed the rattle on the shelf spoke volumes, Silverthorn thought. For a moment she stood silently, lost in her own thoughts. More and more these days she had begun to wonder whether she could have done anything different. She shrugged, what ifs and maybes could drive you mad if you let them. Finally his question registered, "a drink would be nice. Thank you" she said.
The moment Y’Roden stepped into the kitchen his spirits soared, not because he was in a good mood, but because the room was soaked with positive energy. Ghet had used her special talent to make the place a safe haven... after they had accidentally amplified an emotion of a different nature.
There was a crack in the counter, the slightest stains from food dye on the ceiling, and Railen's hair would probably forever clog the garbage disposal. Y’Roden loved this room.
Rummaging under the counter he peeked up at Silverthorn, "Well, I have all sorts of flavors of Brandy, and Whiskey for when Sal drops by. Either of those tickle your fancy?"
As she walked in Silverthorn froze briefly. The sheer volume of positive energy present in the very walls of this room was slightly unnerving to say the least. Without even thinking about it the last of the shields slammed back into place. Even she couldn't help feeling better though. "Whiskey would be fine, thanks,” she said.
Y’Roden eyed the female elf speculatively. "You feel it then? Well, I suppose it would be hard to miss wouldn't it." He shrugged and stood with a Whiskey bottle in one hand and a Brandy bottle in the other. "Apparently it's good for me, but to tell you the truth my moods have overcome the spell before. And take it from Railen, it in no way curbs homicidal tendencies."
Fishing a couple of glasses out of the cupboard he filled one with whiskey and held it out to Silverthorn. "Bottoms up."
Accepting the glass Silverthorn smiled wryly, "I'm not sure the strongest spell would curb Railen's homicidal instincts" she said. She sipped at the whiskey. "Besides, I don't think I've come across a mood spell yet that couldn't be beaten eventually. It just depends on the circumstances."
Y’Roden grinned and tipped his snifter of Brandy in salute before he drained it. "I'm good at destroying a perfectly good mood," he said, "Cranky fellow that I am." Taking a seat on a stool he eyed her, "So tell me, which weapon are you most proficient with? In all these years I don't think I've ever seen you use one. Which is probably a good thing. When weapons are drawn in my presence they are most often aimed at me."
You do seem to have that effect on people,” she said dryly. Then she shrugged, "I don't really specialize" she said, "I'm a reasonable shot with the longbow, which is the weapon I was originally hired to fight with, but I suppose over the years I've tended to use swords and daggers more."
"A longbow hmm?" he said, "I'm horrid with a bow myself. Of course I was raised in Tenobrous, not much use for a bow when you can't see two feet in front of you on a good day." He poured another glass of brandy and sipped at it. "I tend to snap the strings anyway."
Unbuckling the dagger sheath from his arm he set it down on the counter in front of him. "The bastard-sword is my weapon, even the name suits me I guess."
Really? She said dryly. Unconsciously Silverthorn had slipped into what her brother called 'mercenary mode'. Even her expression changed, becoming oddly detached. Whatever emotions she allowed to show on her face were not always genuine and rarely reached her eyes.
"I was brought up in a forest. All of us were taught to use bows from an early age so all the children tended to end up being at least competent with one."
Y’Roden paused in his babbling to stare at her for a moment. A few moments ago he had been in contact with her soul, and looking at her now it was like trying to see through the wall of a fortress. "Silverthorn? Have I done something wrong? Besides the obvious?"
He was oddly disturbed by her withdrawal. Perhaps it was due to her momentary lapse in containing her darkness? He knew that feeling.... In most cases he would have ignored it when someone turned cold on him, but for some reason her good graces mattered to him. A few moments of internal reflection had his brain reeling in confusion.
Blinking her confusion allowed the mask to slip again. Then realization dawned and she gave a soft sigh. "I'm sorry," she said. "I wasn't aware that I'd done that. It's a bad habit, I know." She shook her head, "You didn't do anything wrong. That bit earlier must have unnerved me more than I realized I guess."
"It's ok," Ro told her, "You have a right to be shaken. Come," he nodded to the stool next to him, "Have a seat." He smiled a bit, " What was that anyway?" He chuckled a bit, "I'll share my deep dark secret if you share yours." The half-elf defiantly liked her better this way, although he respected the Mercenary in her, he desired to know the elf underneath.
A reluctant smile crossed her face as she sat down. "It's not really a secret as such,” she said quietly, "it's just I don't usually talk about it much." The smile became a little rueful, "perhaps I ought to make that at all." She shrugged, "I suppose I have a bit of a mixed up family tree in some ways. Although they were all elves they weren't all the same kind. This particular little quirk comes from my father's family. Although they were generally forest elves there is more than one dark elf in my ancestry on that side. There's an entrance to the Drow lands in the Tauremorna and there's been quite a bit of inter-marriage. The most recent in my family was my grandmother. It became common in my family for people to possess the Drow magical abilities as well, or more accurately for the women to possess that ability. It doesn't seem to show up in the men at all."
Y’Roden tilted his head a bit, curiosity lighting his eyes as he gazed into hers. "Drow?" his mouth curled up in a grin, "Well that's nothing to be ashamed of or hide. The Drow are beautiful, even in their darkness." The half-elf reached out to move a tendril of hair that had fallen into Silverthorn's eyes, "You do a marvelous job of concealing the dark magic, I've never sensed it in you before, and believe me, I'm drawn to any form of darkness around me."
Swirling his snifter of brandy he watched the rich liquid lap against the sides of the glass. "I know what it's like to be a half-breed, complications tend to arise." He chuckled and shrugged, the emeralds embedded in his skin catching the light. "Look at the size of me, I'm a mutant elf."
It's not so much concealment as control,” she said quietly. "I'm not ashamed of it. I rarely talk about any of my family."
A grin crossed her face as he shrugged, "mutant are you? And there I was thinking that must be the human blood showing."
Y’Roden laughed, "Human, mutant, what difference is there from an Elven perspective?" The look in his eyes was mischievous, "The S’Hean are nearly as uncomfortable with those that are 'different' as the Elen. Well... almost." In his opinion Galain's people were rather anal-retentive. He could see it in the difference between his children. Valin had been raised among them, Si’Lyen had not.
"We have been the reigning family of Corin for so long that it no longer matters to the humans. So may of their generations have lived and died under my Father's rule... It's a nice city to live in, anyone is welcome there, no matter their race or creed."
A lot depends on the culture you're brought in I suppose" she replied with a shrug. "Its not something that was ever an issue at home. They were always more concerned about who you were than where you came from or even what blood you carried in your veins."
As he spoke of Corin an odd, almost wistful smile crossed her face. "You're lucky,” she said simply. It had been so long since she had anywhere that she could truly call home that she had almost forgotten what it felt like.
The expression on her face struck a cord deep in his soul; he knew the emotion behind that look. Taken from his home at the age of twenty he had been kept from those he loved for eight hundred years.... He had learned the value of home the hard way.
"I can take you there someday if you like," he said softly, "I'd like for you to see it." His eyes brightened, "I'd like to show you S’Hea as well, I have a feeling you would like it there."
The offer took Silverthorn by surprise and for a moment she simply sat there looking at him, her eyes searching his. Then a slow smile crossed her face. "I'd like that" she said softly.
Y’Roden couldn't help but grin, the more he saw this side of Silverthorn, the more he liked it. She was a wild combination of silk and steel, and the elf found himself more then just a little intrigued. "I think you are one of the most fascinating people I've ever met," he murmured, "I haven't had this much fun in awhile."
I'm just me Silverthorn said with a shrug, "I'm nothing particularly special." This was not said with any degree of coyness or false modesty but as if she was simply stating a fact. She had always thought of herself as just ordinary. "It has been a nice evening though."
"I think you sell yourself short," he said in a gentle voice. Brushing the line of her jaw with his fingertips Y’Roden smiled, "You're strong, smart, and very beautiful." Leaning forward he placed a soft kiss on her cheek, "I think we should do this again."
The half-elf was surprised at himself, he was actually behaving. Usually by this point Ro was either rolling around on the floor with a woman or being slapped silly. He liked both options, but Silverthorn brought out something different.
Her eyes widened as his fingers brushed along the line of her jaw. She wasn't entirely sure how to respond. This was probably the one area of her life where she had virtually no confidence. Her decidedly poor track record with relationships of all descriptions had destroyed that years ago.
On one hand she enjoyed Y’Roden’s company and would happily spend more time in it. On the other hand she couldn't help thinking that her judgment was so bad with regard to this sort of thing that she was having to fight an instinctively nervous desire to back away now before she got hurt again. She knew this confusion must show in her eyes but there was nothing she could do about it.
This is silly, she told herself, forcing herself to relax. "I'd like that" she said quietly.
He had been hurt so deeply in the past millennia it was amazing the man still had the capacity to feel. His soul was tattered, his heart in pieces, but he was a D’Riel, they endured. The soft sound of Silverthorn's voice sparked something he had thought lost, and gave him hope that life would indeed move on.
"Good," Y’Roden said gently, "I was hoping you would." His eyes were a bit dazed, and his fingers slid over the line of her neck to cup the nape of her neck. Leaning in he kissed her softly before he even realized what he was doing. Drawing back he closed his eyes, "I'm sorry... that was rather... forward of me."
A slightly stunned expression filled Silverthorn's green eyes as he kissed her. She couldn't have put a proper thought together if her life had depended on it. His comment surprised a laugh out of her, a grin crossing her face. "You were born forward,” she said dryly.
Y’Roden laughed and opened his eyes, grinning sheepishly when he caught the amused look into he depths of Silverthorn's eyes. "Well you haven't killed me yet," he chuckled, "I guess I should count myself lucky." His eyes glittered with mischief, "Can I do that again?"
And you always like to push your luck too" she said with a wry smile. Then the smile became mischievous, "however, maybe, if you ask nicely."
Y’Roden grinned, amusement sparkling in his eyes, along with something more. "How is a fellow to get anywhere if he doesn't push his luck once in awhile?" He leaned in close, his mouth a bare inch from hers, "Please, may I kiss you again?"
Yes she replied softly as one hand moved over his shoulder, her fingers sliding into his hair.
He closed his eyes when Silverthorn's hand slid over his bare shoulder, the shirt having been cast aside earlier, and as her fingers curled into his hair Y’Roden leaned forward, covering her mouth with his. The kiss was hesitant at first, but deepened naturally, and Ro's hands came up to cup her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. His body reacted to her immediately, but more importantly, something stirred deep within his soul. She had touched his spirit once, and he knew now for sure, he wanted her to do it again.
Her eyes closed as the kiss deepened. She couldn't think and yet for once she didn't care. In a way she couldn't quite explain this felt right.
Y’Roden was quite lost, and perfectly happy about it. There was something about the feel of her that soothed, yet roused him all at the same time. Wanting her closer the half-elf looped an arm around Silverthorn's waist, pulling her from the stool she was seated on and into his lap.
With a small sigh Silverthorn slid her other arm around his neck as well. Her shift from her seat on to his lap had registered in a vague way on her consciousness but was a long way from being her main interest at the moment. Not that she was objecting, far from it.
If someone had told him several hours ago that he would be sitting here now with Silverthorn held close he would have thought them mad. The Elven mercenary had always been aloof, unapproachable. Y’Roden had always found her beautiful, and he was attracted to her for her quick wit and mental strength. He never would have thought she would give him a chance, and surprise was one of the top emotions he was experiencing at the moment, although it was far from the most important.
His arms tightened around her, the soft sigh against his lips an aphrodisiac of the best kind. A low sound of pleasure rumbled in his chest and for a moment he drew back, drinking in the relaxed expression on Silverthorn's face. Hooking his arm under her knees Y’Roden pushed himself up off the stool, hefting her up in his arms, an unspoken question in his eyes as she opened hers.
Her eyes opened the expression in them slightly dazed. As they met his questioning glance, the elf tried to get her scrambled brain cells in some sort of order. Then she gave up the effort. For now she was content to operate on instinct. Knowing what she was doing, she let her acceptance appear in her eyes as she looked at him, a smile curving her lips.
Y’Roden stepped out of the kitchen, Silverthorn cradled in his arms as he made his way to the bedroom. His mind was in a haze, but he managed not to rap her head off the doorframe or any other such disaster.
Closing the door with the heel of his boot he made his way to the bed, laying the Elven mercenary out on the comforter and pausing to look down at her for a moment. "Vanima," he said softly before leaning down to kiss her again. His fingers tangled into Silverthorn's hair as he settled in next to her, his fingertip tracing the curve of her pointed ear.
Her fingers slid delicately over his shoulders and chest, a slow exploration as if she was learning what he felt like. The feel of his fingers in her hair, tracing the line of her ear, sent a slight shiver down her spine. The elf's green eyes had darkened to jade as they met his; for once there were no barriers there to conceal herself behind.
The depths of Silverthorn's eyes revealed a rare gift, a window to herself. Y’Roden unconsciously let his own barriers fall away, opening up his soul to let her in. It never struck him as odd that he would trust her so easily, she had already touched his spirit once, and he hers.
Leaning in to kiss her Ro let his hand drift down to her shoulder, tracing a path over her body in a slow discovery of her curves. The half-elf's touch was gentle, but firm, he wasn't afraid to touch her. Silverthorn was a mercenary, not a fragile flower whose petals would tear away under to strong a grip.
As he reached up to undo the laces of her shirt a glint caught his eye and he paused. The ring on his finger glittered softly in the light, and for a moment he looked up into Silverthorn's eyes. The decision was made in that brief second, the half-elf pulled the band off his finger and tucked it away into the nightstand. "The past doesn't belong here anymore," he murmured.
Reclaiming Silverthorn's mouth he moved to loosen the laces, seeking out the warmth of her skin even as a door to the past slid forever closed, and one to the future swung open.
A soft gasp escaped her lips at the feel of his hands on her skin. Instinctively she curled into the warmth of his body, her hands sweeping up his back. The elf had seen the look in Y’Roden’s eyes as he put away the ring but now wasn't the time for questions or talking. That could wait until later, much later.
Y’Roden took his time, releasing Silverthorn's body from the binding of her clothing slowly, memorizing every inch of her skin with hungry fingers and kisses. He lost himself in the tangle of her raven dark hair, and drank in the sweet taste of her mouth. The half-elf was drowning in her soul, and nothing had ever felt more right.
Her body shifted restlessly, arching against him as his hands and lips moved over her. "Please..." she murmured breathlessly, her fingers tightening against him. She had the sensation almost of drowning and yet there was no fear, just pleasure. She couldn't have explained why she trusted him but she did.
That one word made Y’Roden’s mind whirl, letting it finally sink in that Silverthorn was his totally and completely at the moment. He slid over her, savoring the silken feel of her skin against his before he settled in to her body. His head dropped against the elf's shoulder and he clung to her for a moment, the feel of her making his head spin. After a moment he sought out her mouth as his body set rhythm, and his soul drifted slowly, gently twining with hers.
Her hands slid up his back, her legs wrapping around his as he moved within her. She could feel his soul twining with hers and yet, unusually, she didn't feel threatened. Instead it just felt right, as if this was where she was supposed to be.
He suddenly understood what Shadow had meant that day in the woods, he knew this was right, and perhaps he had been guided to Silverthorn by the Fates. A sudden wave of contentment filled his soul, a feeling that was completely alien to him, but welcome just the same.
Ro had no idea how much time passed by the time he collapsed against her, his breath ragged against her neck. Somewhere in between was a miasma of pleasure and release, a pattern of give and take.
Feeling too lazy to move Silverthorn lay quietly as she waited to get her breath back. Her eyelids drifted shut as she simply enjoyed the feeling of peace she was experiencing at the moment. She didn't want to analyze the emotion too deeply; it was far too rare for her and all the more precious for that. Y’Roden’s breath was warm against her neck, his weight oddly comforting.
Such a strange sensation it was. There was nothing wrong with this situation at all, he had nothing to hide from her, there was no one to keep her from him, and for once, there was no want for anyone else in his heart.
Nuzzling into the crook of Silverthorn's neck he let out a rumbly sigh, breathing in the scent of her hair. Rolling smoothly to the side he drew her with him until she was atop him and then reached up to cup her face, drawing her down for another kiss, the wealth of her dark hair falling down around him like a curtain. He was afraid to speak, afraid of shattering a perfect moment.
Her eyes opened as his hands cupped her face, drawing her down for a kiss. Slowly she lifted her head again slightly, a gentle smile crossing her face as she looked down at him. One of her fingers traced the line of his cheekbone. The elf didn't know quite what to say. This type of situation was a rarity for her anyway and she had never felt quite like this before.
Y’Roden answered her smile with one of his own, the brilliant emerald green of his eyes reflecting the emotion he hadn't quite put a label on yet. "A fellow could get use to this," he said softly, his fingers stroking Silverthorn's hair. "I think... no, I know, I want to get use to this."
A soft sigh escaped her as he stroked her hair and she let her head drop onto his shoulder, curling up against him. She wasn't sure that she had ever felt this comfortable before. There didn't seem to be any need to hide from him and it was only now when her barriers were down that she realized how much effort she put into maintaining them. She was so used to them being there that the strain had begun to seem natural.
"This is nice,” she said, her tone conveying far more than the simple words would suggest.
Y’Roden wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, quietly amazed at the change in her. He wanted more of this, more of who she was when the barriers were down. There was so much he might have said, but there was a fear of scaring her away in him that kept him fairly quiet.
Silverthorn's tone touched something in him and a smile crept up on him, tilting his head Ro kissed the top of hers. "It is at that." Closing his eyes he let his senses drift, he could feel her heartbeat, hear her breathe....
"Stay with me?" he murmured.
At the murmured request Silverthorn smiled slightly, "yes" she said quietly. Her eyes closed as she lay in his arms, her breathing slowing. In an odd way she felt safe here and for once she decided not to question it.
Another smile quirked Y’Roden’s mouth and trying not to disturb her to much he hooked the blanket at the bottom of the bed with his foot, tossing it up to his hand. Drawing it over them both he settled back in, drawing her close before his breathing turned deep and sleep claimed him. A dreamless sleep, that for once wasn't fitful or filled with shadows.
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