Long fingers absently tugged at the laces of his shirt as the Amadician considered his companion’s request, silver-grey eyes tracing over the shape and curve of Tia’s face. Light, but it was bloody hot. Somewhere both less crowded and with fresh air sounded divine. Zeen’s head tilted to the side as the arm not slung through the Accepted’s lifted, the pad of his thumb brushing over the corner of her mouth, before following the arch of delicate cheekbone. He watched, fascinated, as both heat and colour surged up the fair skin of her neck. He found that he rather enjoyed that result.
“Yes,” he murmured, turning with deliberate care, his body tensing with something akin to curiosity and anticipation. “Somewhere... out there... will be less crowded with fresh air.” He guided them slowly through the crowds and tables, the Asha’man using his height and broad frame to the utmost advantage as he cut straight through the mass of milling patrons that parted way before him.
‘Out there’ was palpably cooler, and Zeen took a moment to bask in the relief, grinning sidelong at Tia. He sighed a little, loosening and tugging once again at his shirt laces. He wanted to haul it off over his head, but was unsure if the Accepted would find that inappropriate. She had laced up the bloody thing, after all. As it was, he left it half open... that way, they could both get what they wanted. At least Tia had not insisted he wear that Light forsaken black coat as well. He would never for the life of him understand how it was that the other Asha’man wore those stiff torture contraptions day in and day out without so much as batting an eye.
He tucked Tia’s fingers in the crook of his elbow, his larger palm enfolding the entirety of her hand. The world did not quite tilt or blur as it had inside the tavern, but he still found that walking took far more concentration and effort than it should have. He staggered once, nearly dragging his smaller companion off the paved walkway entirely. He laughed, then laughed again at the quizzical look she shot him, not quite understanding why he found it amusing, only that it was.
“I think I should sit,” he began without preamble and directed them towards the nearest bench. “I will only need a moment, just until the ground stops moving while my feet are also trying to move.” It was a little distance aways from the pool of light cast by the street lamps. He would be able to see any that approached, though they would not immediately notice that there were two figures seated in the dim shadows.
Tia settled in next to him, heat radiating from her body that he could feel through the pristine fabric of her banded whites. The earlier memory of heat and colour played in his mind again and Zeen wanted it to happen again. He gently disentangled his arm from hers, his body turning until he was facing her. Grey eyes met green and he shifted forward, closer, close enough to see her. Large hands reached up and cupped her face, the light graze of nails sliding up along the delicate underside of chin and jawline. His touch was warm and lingering, the very tips of his fingers stroking along the sensitive column of her neck, following the line of both pulsepoints. There it was again, the rush of fire, the brilliant bloom of colour, and... something new... the sudden wild thunder of her racing heart.
He was thoroughly enraptured by her reaction and did not bother to hide his delight as he smiled at her. A moment longer of tantalizing caress and touch before his hands withdrew, resting on shoulders before sliding down her arms, grasping onto bicep. Lips replaced fingertips, and the Green was utterly apologetic as he began tasting and teasing.
“Yes,” he murmured, turning with deliberate care, his body tensing with something akin to curiosity and anticipation. “Somewhere... out there... will be less crowded with fresh air.” He guided them slowly through the crowds and tables, the Asha’man using his height and broad frame to the utmost advantage as he cut straight through the mass of milling patrons that parted way before him.
‘Out there’ was palpably cooler, and Zeen took a moment to bask in the relief, grinning sidelong at Tia. He sighed a little, loosening and tugging once again at his shirt laces. He wanted to haul it off over his head, but was unsure if the Accepted would find that inappropriate. She had laced up the bloody thing, after all. As it was, he left it half open... that way, they could both get what they wanted. At least Tia had not insisted he wear that Light forsaken black coat as well. He would never for the life of him understand how it was that the other Asha’man wore those stiff torture contraptions day in and day out without so much as batting an eye.
He tucked Tia’s fingers in the crook of his elbow, his larger palm enfolding the entirety of her hand. The world did not quite tilt or blur as it had inside the tavern, but he still found that walking took far more concentration and effort than it should have. He staggered once, nearly dragging his smaller companion off the paved walkway entirely. He laughed, then laughed again at the quizzical look she shot him, not quite understanding why he found it amusing, only that it was.
“I think I should sit,” he began without preamble and directed them towards the nearest bench. “I will only need a moment, just until the ground stops moving while my feet are also trying to move.” It was a little distance aways from the pool of light cast by the street lamps. He would be able to see any that approached, though they would not immediately notice that there were two figures seated in the dim shadows.
Tia settled in next to him, heat radiating from her body that he could feel through the pristine fabric of her banded whites. The earlier memory of heat and colour played in his mind again and Zeen wanted it to happen again. He gently disentangled his arm from hers, his body turning until he was facing her. Grey eyes met green and he shifted forward, closer, close enough to see her. Large hands reached up and cupped her face, the light graze of nails sliding up along the delicate underside of chin and jawline. His touch was warm and lingering, the very tips of his fingers stroking along the sensitive column of her neck, following the line of both pulsepoints. There it was again, the rush of fire, the brilliant bloom of colour, and... something new... the sudden wild thunder of her racing heart.
He was thoroughly enraptured by her reaction and did not bother to hide his delight as he smiled at her. A moment longer of tantalizing caress and touch before his hands withdrew, resting on shoulders before sliding down her arms, grasping onto bicep. Lips replaced fingertips, and the Green was utterly apologetic as he began tasting and teasing.
