Sadira/Mozenrath fill
anonymous
July 14 2010, 20:33:32 UTC
Mozenrath never was content to be a street rat. For as long as Sadira had known him--for as long as she'd been picking locks, and gotten them both out of a bind--he was always talking about how he would find some way out of it all. And for the last year or so, he'd been talking about magic.
They are seated on the roof of a woman that will frequently leave food on the windowsill, if they are patient--the scent of it baking makes that difficult for her--and Mozenrath is telling her about how there is nothing that magic cannot do for you, if only you have the dedication to learn it and the fortitude to control it.
"All I have to do," Mozenrath divulged, "is find a master that will teach me."
Sadira had to admit that Mozenrath made it sound very appealing. But she could not shake a nagging thought--if he found a master, he would leave, and she would be alone. "What if no one will teach you?"
Mozenrath gave her an irritable look. "Then I will make them teach me."
"But what if--"
"You've just never wanted anything bad enough. If you did, you'd know." He puffed out his chest and went on, "I won't let anything stop me."
Sadira chewed on her lip, pensive. Mozenrath was still talking when she leaned over and kissed him.
He made a started sound, caught off guard, and sat awkward and unresponsive beneath her. With all of his bravado, sometimes Sadira forgot that he wasn't much older nor more experienced than she herself was.
But Mozenrath was a quick learner, and after a short lag he was kissing back, hands coming up to clutch her upper arms and pull her closer. At first he mirrored her movements, but soon he was experimenting with pressure and tongue and teeth, and before Sadira knew it her head was swimming and she could empirically say that Mozenrath could master any subject if he put his mind to it. They finally broke apart, staring at one another as if confused by what had just happened, or what it meant would happen now. Mozenrath finally cleared his throat, and mentioned that the food was out and ready to be pillaged.
It was less than two years after that that Mozenrath found Destane. He didn't take anything with him when he left, but walking through the abandoned home he had claimed for himself, Sadira could just tell.
She sat on his bed, looking out his window at the view--the wide and untamed expanse of the desert. He'd always told her it was real freedom out there in the dunes, out from under the shadow of the palace.
Sadira couldn't help but wonder if he might have stayed for her, if she'd tried harder to keep him.
They are seated on the roof of a woman that will frequently leave food on the windowsill, if they are patient--the scent of it baking makes that difficult for her--and Mozenrath is telling her about how there is nothing that magic cannot do for you, if only you have the dedication to learn it and the fortitude to control it.
"All I have to do," Mozenrath divulged, "is find a master that will teach me."
Sadira had to admit that Mozenrath made it sound very appealing. But she could not shake a nagging thought--if he found a master, he would leave, and she would be alone. "What if no one will teach you?"
Mozenrath gave her an irritable look. "Then I will make them teach me."
"But what if--"
"You've just never wanted anything bad enough. If you did, you'd know." He puffed out his chest and went on, "I won't let anything stop me."
Sadira chewed on her lip, pensive. Mozenrath was still talking when she leaned over and kissed him.
He made a started sound, caught off guard, and sat awkward and unresponsive beneath her. With all of his bravado, sometimes Sadira forgot that he wasn't much older nor more experienced than she herself was.
But Mozenrath was a quick learner, and after a short lag he was kissing back, hands coming up to clutch her upper arms and pull her closer. At first he mirrored her movements, but soon he was experimenting with pressure and tongue and teeth, and before Sadira knew it her head was swimming and she could empirically say that Mozenrath could master any subject if he put his mind to it. They finally broke apart, staring at one another as if confused by what had just happened, or what it meant would happen now. Mozenrath finally cleared his throat, and mentioned that the food was out and ready to be pillaged.
It was less than two years after that that Mozenrath found Destane. He didn't take anything with him when he left, but walking through the abandoned home he had claimed for himself, Sadira could just tell.
She sat on his bed, looking out his window at the view--the wide and untamed expanse of the desert. He'd always told her it was real freedom out there in the dunes, out from under the shadow of the palace.
Sadira couldn't help but wonder if he might have stayed for her, if she'd tried harder to keep him.
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