Why? [attn: Jenn/Affie]

[Locke]

Alric

Most of the time, you don't know you want something until it's gone. On certain lucky occasions, you realize that the thing you want has fallen into your lap. That was true in Alric's case at least. As he sat tucked under the desk with the petite Drin, he couldn't sure if it was the gin or her company, but he could feel his spirits lifting.
Maybe it was intent, maybe happenstance, but her lips brushed his. She jumped back stammering and bumped her head. She finally composed herself and said, “Not sorry,” in a quietly determined voice.
To Alric's gin soaked brain, it was the funniest thing ever. Shoulders shaking he began laughing quietly. Realizing that she might actually be offended by his laughter, he leaned up and kissed her for real.

[Jenn]

Affie

He was laughing. Alric was laughing. Not mad then...? That was... good. Better than yelling. But how good was it? The small Drin didn’t know and as the seconds ticked past, Affie released his ears tentatively. She blinked at him, or tried to, squinting a little. Really was dark. She shifted abruptly in his lap, the world diving and distorting wildly for a moment as Alric leaned forward. Why was he moving... bad. Bad. Made her head spin.

Hands wrapped around her arms and then warmth pressed against her mouth again. Wh- oh. Oh! Her stomach flipped and then flipped again. Affie squeaked, but the sound was muffled by lips and tongue that were both warm and eager. After several more seconds she couldn’t remember why she was so surprised, eyes slowly drifting shut.

Kiss. Alric. Was kissing her. And she was kissing him back. When had she started that? Couldn’t say. Didn’t matter though. She liked it. Was better than nice. He tasted like... well kind of like a pinecone and something that reminded her of an orange. She pushed forward, elbow banging against the desk. Or maybe it was a lemon. Lemon... pinecones and lemon and... heated spice.

Her drink-addled brain nodded along with her assessment and seeking fingers found his ears again. She shifted over him, her knee colliding with the floor. Higher, going up higher with her hands until they reached his hair. Affie made a satisfied noise, fingers curling against Alric's scalp, her mouth parting beneath his as she tugged his face insistently closer to hers. The fire in the pit of her belly abruptly surged up, heat flushing beneath the surface of dark skin. Would find the bottle and hit him over the head with it if he stopped now.

[Locke]

Alric

A small gasp of pleasure escaped Alrics lips as the small woman returned the kiss, forcing their bodies together. She dug her fingers into his thick curls, holding him in place for another kiss. It was quietly insistent, the kind of kiss that he knew he’d have trouble escaping, if he actually wanted to. Thanks to Affie’s unpracticed but enthusiastic kisses or her constant squirming in his lap, the suicidal morass he’d spent most of the day in was rapidly retreating. Instead a warm excited buzz filled his head, deafening him to a small voice that repeated, Consider the consequences.


Social and emotional consequences, or anything that involved the next morning were as far from his thoughts as the Queen of Andor. Somewhere along the line, as if of their own volition, he had taken a fist full of her soft curly hair and slid the other under her coat to rest on the small of her back. Eventually, he managed to break the kiss and come up for air. Before she could complain however, he plunged back in kissing her slim neck. Admittedly he was rarely sparing with teeth in such matters and she gasped, bumping her head against the desk again.


The solution that came to Alric’s mind, hopefully would help both of them. Using the hand he’d propped on her back, he leveraged them both out from under the desk, laying her back onto the floor. Kneeling over her, he wished he had a candle so he could actually see her. He didn’t plan to go light one, though. Instead, he said in an overly casual voice, “You know, if we wish to continue this, there are better places than under a desk.” He knew she probably couldn’t see his smile in the darkness, but he was sure she could feel as he began unbuttoning her grey Drin’s coat.

[Jenn]

Affie

The floor was cold, but the heat that rolled through her body was almost too much. Alric’s hands were hot on her skin, the mouth against hers even hotter. “Yes,” Affie murmured, barely recognizing her own voice. “Desk was cramped and...” she couldn’t, her thoughts knotting and tangling up as something was shoved beneath her head... her coat? Or his? Didn’t matter.

Her hands were surprisingly steady as they pulled and tugged at Alric’s clothing, fingers finding hisskin, a little noise of satisfaction sounding as her lips and mouth followed. More hastily folded up clothing was pushed beneath her, but soon even that stopped mattering as the world faded away in a haze of distorted shadows and soft gasps.

---

She stirred groggily, rolling away from the brightness that felt as if it was stabbing into her eyes. Affie made a face as her hip ground into something hard and cold, her body bumping into something soft and warm. Scarred hands rubbed at her eyes, then reached up and patted the wild mess of curly frizzy hair that had somehow gotten loose. Her head felt like a small fleet of little storytime goblins were up in there grinding up sawdust and throwing it into her mouth. Didn’t like it.

It took several moments to register that she was naked.

Dark eyes popped open, then opened wider as she saw that she wasn’t alone. Laying on a desk... Alric... also naked... and...!! Hazy memories from the night before swam back into dubious view and the small Drin had no idea what to do. She ached from head to toe. And she was hungry. And thirsty. Where were her clothes?

Affie made to slide off the desk but her body didn’t seem to want to listen. Her gaze went back to Alric and she squeaked a little when she realized that he was awake and looking back at her.

“Hello,” she said quietly, her hand lifting self-consciously to pat at her hair again. Looked good. He looked very good. She couldn’t help but peek, and then flushed as she looked away quickly.

[Locke]

Alric

The next morning, Alric woke with a groan. He felt as if he’d been beaten the night before, then laid on a block of ice while some twisted individual shoved hot pokers into his eyes. The warm body still entangled with his and the nimbus of black hair in his face told a different story though. Though his head pounded, his knees and back ached, and his stomach was rather queasy, he couldn’t help but smile slightly as he studied Affie’s form for the first time in daylight.

They were late for morning lessons and chores, something Alric had almost never done. However much he wanted to disentangle himself and get dressed, he couldn’t find the will to disturb the peacefully sleeping young woman. Instead, he just lay there taking stock of the situation. He had questions he needed answers for before they continued to far. Enjoyable as it was, what did last night mean? What did either of them want going forward?

He hadn’t come to any suitable answers when Affie began to shift and sit up slightly. “Morning, Ms. Valen,” Alric said in a soft voice to match hers. Not particularly bothered by the fact that their mouths both tasted like stale gin, Alric leaned over and kissed her. WIth difficulty he pulled himself away before his hands could begin exploring her body. As much as he would have liked to, they didn’t have time for this. They needed to get back to the Tower. He sat up, swinging his feet off the desk and began hunting around for his clothes. Of all places to fall asleep, the desk. Admittedly it had served several functions the night before.

Finally he found his coat. It was crumpled in a corner tangled with Affie’s small clothes and a boot. Lifting it up and shaking it out, he decided it was far to wrinkled to wear as is. Thankfully, he had a weave that might be able to fix it.

“Find your clothes and lay them out on the desk, I think I can deal with these wrinkles,” Alric said, picking up his sword belt from where it fell. Thankfully, his time in the army had taught him how to get moving, no matter how hungover he might be.

[Jenn]

Affie

The strange knot in her stomach uncoiled as soon as Alric’s lips touched hers again. Lasted only a moment, and was far less intense than what they had done the night before... but the feeling was different now that it was morning. Gentle. Wasn’t a bad, just different. Affie smiled a little at him, solemn eyes watching him with unabashed curiosity as he somehow managed to push himself off the desk and stand without toppling over. Didn’t know if she could... her legs didn’t seem to want to work. The very tops of her ears burned as she remembered why that was.

The small Drin managed to wiggle her way to the edge of the desk, gingerly placing her feet down onto the floor. She immediately hopped back up, toes curling at how cold it was. Didn’t remember it being that bad last night! Then again... her gaze drifted over to where Alric stood, skin even darker than hers standing out in stark contrast against the neutral walls. She mashed her teeth against her bottom lip and decided to stay where she was and enjoy the view. His butt was nice. Very nice to look at and she spent many minutes happily admiring it.

Her face fell a little at the realization that she had to move... but he was right. Couldn’t sit here naked for the whole day, even though that wasn’t a bad way to pass time. Affie pressed her lips together, her eyes narrowing as she tried not to step down fully, tiptoeing across the bitterly cold floor as she hunted down her clothes. They really were all over the place. Alric had a good arm. And good --

Distracted, it took her a while. Eventually she had all the pieces, and returned to the desk, laying them out like he had said. She was shivering and without hesitating, sidled up next to him and pressed against his side, burrowing into the sudden warmth there. Oh that was good. “Cold,” was all she said, looking up at him solemnly, her weight shifting from side to side as the Altaran tried not to stand on the floor with both feet at once. “What’re you going to do?”

[Locke]

Alric

The stone floor’s bitter cold quickly soaked into Alric’s feet until he pulled on his stockings. He handed Affie a pair and unabashedly watched as she knelt to pull them on. No different than anything else he’d done that morning then. He probably could have had his uniform laid out in a matter of seconds, but he let himself be distracted watching the little Drin as she rushed around, black curls bouncing freely, looking for her clothes.

Once all their clothes were in place, he picked up his sword and drew it. Affie snuggled against his side for warmth while she waited for him to do whatever he planned to do with their clothes. He passed the sword to his left hand and slid an arm around her waist pulling her closer. He let his hand slide down her back, enjoying the smooth feel of her skin. For no reason other than that he could, Alric slid his hand onto her bottom with a firm yet gentle squeeze. The young Drin started and he kissed the top of her head.

“Now to deal with these clothes,” Alric said. With a flicker of regret, he fed his emotions to the Flame, wrapping the Void around him. He was still aware of Affie’s presence next to him, in fact as he seized control of Saidin he was even more intimately aware of her. The feel of her skin, the smell of her hair, things he would have enjoyed if not for the buffering effect of the Void. He stood holding onto the small woman as he wrestled with the Power and began to weave.

He wove narrow strands of Water, laying them across the garments. They were followed by a cross pattern of slightly thicker threads of Air. He’d have to be careful with the last part. Carefully, he wove in fine threads if Fire, careful not to leave any gaps. As the last thread was laid in place, a cloud of steam rose from their garments. Alric followed by weaves of Air touched with a hint of Fire and Water to straighten out any missed wrinkles. The whole process only took a couple of seconds.

Once Saidin was gone, the morning chill returned with a vengeance. The ability to enjoy Affie’s presence next to him. With a small pang of regret, he reached onto the table and handed her her small clothes and let go of her so she could dress. He began pulling on small clothes of his own. They were still wonderfully warm thanks to his weave, but he knew the chill would be back soon with a vengeance.

“We should hurry, who knows who’ll want to use this office this morning,” he said, lacing up his black shirt. Though they were in a hurry, it did little to stop him from watching the slim woman as she dressed.

[Jenn]

Affie

Alric had his sword out. Affie glanced at it curiously, then took an unabashed look at the rest of him. He was staring at the desk. The small Drin mashed her bottom lip against her teeth again, lips twitching up. Scars and muscles that rippled beneath rich dark skin. She liked it. Wanted to touch him again.

Leaning against him, she couldn’t stop the little gasp of surprise as steam began to rise from their clothes! She watched, wide-eyed, as he did... something. Wasn’t sure what, couldn’t see anything, but the wrinkles and creases disappeared, hazy lines of misty white wafting into the cold air. The Altaran made a soft noise and when Alric handed her her small clothes, she hesitantly accepted them. Any reluctance vanished as Affie realized they were warm.

She maneuvered into her clothes and boots in record time, stopping when she had finished lacing them up to stare with unapologetic interest at Alric dressing. It was... nice too. Taking off his clothes had been an experience. Affie squinted down at the desk and rubbed at a spot with scarred fingers. And another spot. There. Now it looked clean again.

“Will have to run back to the Tower,” she murmured solemnly. “Already late.” She tried not to think of how sore she was. Legs definitely did not want to move, much less run. Alric still had the blade in his hand. She glanced it at curiously yet again as she absently pushed at the mess of hair on the top of her head. “Unless... you know of a better way?”

[Locke]

Alric

While he dressed, Alric noticed a cord laying on the floor. Stooping to pick it up, he could tell it was a one of the ties Affie used to keep her hair in check. Dusting it off, he strode over to her. “You forgot this,” he said as he brushed her hair back with his hands, tying the cord in place.

“I think I have an idea though, a way to get us back to the Tower without having to run, and hopefully without anybody seeing us coming back in.” He buckled his thick leather sword belt around his waist, tugging his coat into place. There wasn’t much he could do with his hair, it wasn’t quite long enough to tie back and his tight curls were compacted on the sides and in the back. He did his best to tease it into some order, tugging here, patting there. The lack of a mirror made this difficult. He thought he might be able to come up with a weave to address the issue but he didn’t have the time.

Instead he picked up his sword in his right hand, and maneuvered his companion to stand behind him allowing her to wrap her arms around him. “Yeah, it’s best you stand behind me, I’ve only the slightest idea what I’m doing.” Well that wasn’t quite true, he’d seen the weaves several times, read books on the subject, talked with Katrie, and even studied the residues when nobody was looking. However, his time as a Soldier never afforded him the chance to try weaving a gateway. Seizing the source again, he wove a complex pattern with all five Powers. A silver line split the air for a second and vanished. He took a breath and tried again. Maybe he had memorized the weave incorrectly. No, he had almost summoned the gateway. What was the problem?

Then something occurred to him. He was trying to Travel. He had to know his starting location if he wanted to Travel. While he’d spent the night in this room, he could in no way say he’d learned it. His attention had been… elsewhere. He tried again, envisioning his destination, a favored spot in the gardens. This time, he altered the weave slightly to Skim. A sliver line split the air rotating open revealing an infinite black void. A platform floated just inside. If Alric remembered correctly he could form it however he wished. He settled on a platform with a large chair. He would have made two normal sized chairs, but he doubted Affie would sit in the other one. It would be one chair for the two of them then. After carefully climbing through the portal, he offered a hand for her to follow.

[Jenn]

Affie

The small Drin very nearly purred out loud at the feel of Alric’s hands moving through her hair, the very tips of his fingers gliding along her scalp. Oh... oh, was good. She was disappointed when the moment was over and her hair pulled away from her face, but she refused to move. Twisting a little, she was able to spend several more moments leaning up into his touch. Liked it and didn’t want it to end.

Dark eyes snapped open when he stepped away and Affie let out an audible little huff. It wasn’t all bad though. She watched as he tried to arrange his hair into some kind of order, a faint smile coming to her face. Just as she was about to reach out and help him, he pulled out his sword again and guided her back behind him. She shrugged and wrapped her arms around his waist instead, blinking at his warning. Channeling again? Why keep pulling out the sword? These were all very good questions that she would have to remember to ask later.

She leaned out to the side to try and look around Alric’s body so she could see what he was looking at...

The wall.

...not very exciting.

Affie stiffened a little as something flashed in front of them, a... line of light...? She sucked in her breath and held very very still. Another line of light appeared, like silver, and it... spun slowly, rotating... opening up into... blackness that seemed to go on forever. No... not just blackness. A chair? How was there a floating chair? She squinted at it, pressing closer to Alric before he moved. Her arms fell to her sides as she watched, wide eyed. He stepped through... and then turned with his hand outstretched back towards her.

Approaching cautiously, the slight Drin tentatively took his hand and stepped through like he had. A platform! The chair wasn’t floating around in empty space. Affie stomped down once, reassuring herself that what she stood on was solid. She glanced up, then down, not particularly eager to move. She didn’t want to get too close to the edges of the platform... didn’t want to fall. Fall into empty space? Not so good.

The... storage room vanished behind them as whatever it was that Alric had done with the Power closed. She swallowed a squeak and tightened her hold on his hand. Wasn’t scared... wasn’t! But the darkness everywhere made her nervous. She didn’t protest when he guided her to the chair and as he sat, she gave him another challenging look before settling in his lap. This was better. There was no way to tell, but she swore that... the platform was moving.

“Are we... going?” she asked quietly, turning to face him so quickly that she mashed her nose into his cheekbone. Scarred fingers lifted and the Altaran gestured around them. “What is... this place?”