Of Chairs & Books
IC Date: Day 15, Month 12, Turn 2, 7th Pass
Players: Islay, E'sere, T'gar (Morelenth & Echeloth)
Location: T'gar & Echeloth's Cave
Synopsis: E'sere drops by to discuss T'gar building some furniture for him, and then T'gar and Islay talk. Their relationship takes a turn for the different. WARNING: Mild adult interaction and sexual connotations.
T'gar and Echeloth's Cave,
Evening
About half-way up the side of Dragonweyr cliffs, the moderately sized cave is wider than it is deep, the walls curving upwards to form an arched roof. The floor is relatively even, though it slants upwards a little toward the back. The cave mouth is wide, the extended overhang offering Echeloth at least partial protection from inclement weather. A narrow, treacherous foot-path snakes its way up the cliff-face from below, making access to the cave dangerous but not impossible.
Inside the cavern is mostly empty. Dried leaves are piled to one side, forming a fairly comfortable padding between occupant and rock floor. A rough-hewn board is propped between two relatively flat-topped rocks to form a shelf where what few clothes and possessions the owner has are placed. Roughly centered in the cave is a stalagmite with the upper portion knocked off, the remainder smoothed to form a table of sorts. There is one chair made from island wood, held together by vines and pegs, serviceable if not overly comfortable. The cave is dry, and does get a breeze off the ocean during the warmer months.
Rain. Enough rain to satisfy any nature lover and then some. It's a quiet evening, with Islay seated in The Chair, the book she borrowed from E'sere open on the makeshift table, the lamp glowing warmly in the otherwise dimly lighted cave she shares with T'gar. The girl's head is lowered over the writing, a finger following each word as she reads, her lips moving silently as she tries to make out the words. So many are hard for her, and occasionally she will lift her head, staring out the cave mouth trying to sound the mysterious letters out in a bare whisper. Echeloth is quiet on his ledge, while T'gar ... well, she hasn't been watching him, so she's not really sure what he's doing. Her bed is neatly made against one wall of the cavern, the dried leaves carefully arranged beneath the spread blanket. Peaceful in the cave. Yes. Just the sound of rain falling.
<< Echeloth? >> Morelenth's voice is warm, curious, as he reaches out unobtrusively, for the moment his contact mental only. << Is yours home? May E'sere and I come to speak with him? >>
T'gar is quiet, laying in his somewhat less neatly made bed, and probably lacking full consciousness, which would certainly make him easy to forget about for now. He only grumbles and slings his arm over his face when Echeloth lifts his head and glances back at him. << He is. >> His voice is perhaps a little amused as he continues, << Certainly. Yours would be welcome. >>
<< Thank you, >> Morelenth answers. << We come. >> Within another minute, the bronze is approaching, touching down on the edge of the ledge just long enough for E'sere to slide down. Then, the dragon departs again, leaving E'sere to head to the doorway and stop, rapping a couple of times on the stone. "Evening. Am I intruding?"
Islay, of course, is completely oblivious to the exchange between the dragons -- at least until she hears wings from another dragon and looks up as Morelenth lands. She blinks, glancing over at T'gar, then to E'sere. "Um... no," she replies to the question asked, looking just a little surprised, but certainly not displeased. "I was just reading." Well, isn't that obvious? "Lots of big words in th' book, but I'm doing all right with 'em." She closes the book carefully, making certain none of the pages are dog-eared -- though someone else hasn't been that cautious, she notes -- and rises. The book is picked up and transported to her bed, placed on her pillow. "T'gar...?" is said, not certain if the brownrider is awake or not.
Echeloth warbles a deep greeting to the bronze and his rider from where he lays pressed as far back into the cave as he can be without being a nuisance to the people. He either says something to his rider or T'gar hears Islay say his name because he sits up with a start and glances over at them both. His gaze settles onto E'sere with vague confusion as he pushes himself to his feet and runs a hand through his hair. "We have company," he notes obviously and composes himself. "What's the occasion?"
"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to wake you," E'sere apologizes to T'gar, ducking his head. "Or to interrupt your reading," is added to Islay, with a small smile. "Are you enjoying it so far? I have to admit, it's not absolutely scintillating, but there /are/ worse things one could read, I suppose. How are you both today, Islay, T'gar?" A glance to the brownrider, then the chair, and back again. "Islay had told me the other day you had made furniture before," he states his errand after a moment.
Islay regards her roommate with a slight smile on her lips. "You ain't interrupting anything," she says, standing in the middle of the cave not really adept at the socializing thing. And, it's not her cave, after all. But, she nods to E'sere as he speaks, then quirks a brow. "Scinti ... scint'lating? What's that mean?" she asks, her smallish vocabulary showing its limits, much to her chagrin, apparently. "I'm doing all right with it, but I don't always get what they're saying. They talk real funny t'each other." Then she falls silent, letting E'sere bring up what he wishes to discuss with T'gar. She does look at the chair, though, regarding it with some degree of pride in her expression.
T'gar shakes his head dismissively and says, despite a yawn, "Don't worry about it. Wasn't really sleeping." He glances at Islay where she stands, shifting his gaze only briefly to the book deposited on her pillow. "Stimulating, clever, good," he sounds off several definitions absently and turns his attention to the chair. "I have. Not too much. And certainly nothing worth much note," he says, eyeing Islay for a handful of moments rather than the man who made the comment.
"Strictly, it's along the lines of 'sparkling,'" explains E'sere. "With the connotation of being fascinating or brilliant." A quick smile, a nod, and then he glances back at T'gar. "Ah. I see. Well, I was really wondering if you might be able to oblige me and make myself a chair as well. My weyr is unfortunately devoid of furniture at this point, so I'd appreciate it quite a lot, really." Pause. "I don't... really know," he begins slowly, "what I could offer you in return, my useful skills at this point still being largely negligible, but if you know of anything..."
Islay watches T'gar with a slightly uncertain expression, as if she's afraid she might have done or said something wrong. When both men offer a definition of "scintillating," she nods, biting her lower lip a moment before murmuring a soft, "Thanks." She then moves toward her bed once more, but doesn't settle on it. Instead, she leans against the cave wall, listening. This is, after all, something between E'sere and T'gar. She knows nothing of making furniture, nor of bargaining -- save with trading chores, island style.
T'gar turns his attention more fully to the bronzerider and gives his head a small nod. "I'm sure something can be arranged." He pauses and gestures to the chair, which he obviously doesn't think is that big of a deal. "Something like that? Or did you have something else in mind?"
E'sere's answer is to turn and stride over to the chair, inspecting it from various angles and then seating himself in it, his expression thoughtful. From that position, he nods once and glances to T'gar. "I think this will do nicely, actually, thank you," he affirms as he stands back up. "I'd appreciate it quite a lot. How long do you think it will take to make?"
Once more Islay regards the chair and remains silent. Almost shy. Certainly not gregarious or forth-coming with witty remarks. Instead, she simply listens, her gaze going between E'sere and T'gar and The Chair. Finally, she moves back towards the riders. "Would you like something t'drink?" she asks, being at least as hospitable as she can be. "Afraid all we got's water, but it's flavored with citron. S'not too bad." Of course, with all the rain, water is not scarce, and the fruit flavoring comes from what's left over from meals so it's not wasted. There are two more cups in addition to T'gar's, both crudely carved from small gourds. It's into two of them she pours the drinks, setting them on the table.
T'gar falls silent, obviously thinking, then he shrugs. "Hard to say, really. The wood's been soaked pretty good out there with all this rain. You don't want anything that will end up molding or rotting. I'll see what I can find and get back to you about that. I'd say no more than two weeks what with my own duties needing to be done foremost." Perhaps it's broad estimation, but T'gar doesn't seem as though rushing work on his free time is at the top of his priority list.
E'sere nods slowly in answer to T'gar. "I understand. Thank you again for doing this, T'gar--I really appreciate it, and if you'll let me know what I can do in return, I would be happy to oblige. I... might actually need another one at some point, as Aivey's already claimed this one for hers," he confesses, shaking his head. "Which reminds me," E'sere adds, glancing back to Islay, "I should apologize for the other day. I had forgotten to warn her I was having someone over, so she was a little surprised to come home to find someone. And no, thank you--I'm all right," he waves off her offer of a drink.
Islay blinks at the apology offered. "Ain't no need t'apologize t'me," she says quietly, lifting one of the cups to her lips. "I know she don't like me, an' likely thought I was up t'something by being there." Honest to a fault, that's Islay. No beating around the bush with her. "I ain't upset 'r nothing." She sets the cup down. "Seems t'me, though, that if someone's gotta live 'round people, they might want t'be less prickly." A shrug. "She don't gotta worry none of me. I don't pose no never mind t'nobody." There's no anger or bitterness in her tone, just factual. "I won't go back there less'n she knows I'm coming."
T'gar nods. "Like I said, I'm sure something can be arranged. I'll think on that, too. Can't think of anything off the top of my head, though. I'll be gathering enough for two, at least, one more won't make much difference." He offers a small shrug and falls silent in favor of listening curiously to the exchange between Islay and the bronzerider. He lifts a brow at some point, but it goes back down when his gaze turns to Islay. He doesn't say anything, but he certainly doesn't roll with that particular line of thinking. Maybe that's just him.
E'sere waves off Islay's words, shaking his head. "She was just caught off guard," he tells her. "And I'll be sure to warn her next time, too. It was my slip-up, really. I won't let it happen again." He offers her a smile, then glances back at T'gar and nods once. "All right. Thank you, again, for doing this," he tells him. "I should probably let you get back to your business, though."
Islay nods, but E'sere's assurances don't really persuade her much. After all, she's met Aivey when he wasn't around, and there was enough there that she's not convinced. "It's all right," she repeats, setting the cup down. "Don't matter no how," is mumbled as she puts a hand on the back of the chair and falls silent again.
T'gar lifts a hand to touch Islay's shoulder lightly. He doesn't know much about the other side of their conversation so he says simply, "Of course," and offers a friendly enough smile.
E'sere nods once and takes a step back, then half-turns as if to leave. He changes his mind, though, before he takes another step, and turns back. "Say," he begins thoughtfully, as though the idea were just coming to him. "You wouldn't happen to be able to make beds, too, would you, T'gar?"
Islay's head comes up at this inquiry, and there's a small smile on her lips as she regards T'gar. The hand on her shoulder isn't shrugged off, instead, she sort of leans against him a little. "Bed," she repeats, chuckling. "I done asked him about that. A real bed would be good, wouldn't it?" This to E'sere, since apparently, they share that desire. "I miss a bed almost more'n anything else, 'cept maybe a good roasted herdbeast."
T'gar frowns at the question, glancing once at Islay. "Well," he starts thoughtfully. "I've never actually made one. But I've been trying to think of a way that I could. That's something I'll have to sort out before I'll actually say I can make 'em." At this rate, he might just have to take up carpentry as his typical daily chore.
"Well, if you do work out a way to do it, let me know, please," E'sere requests with a quick smile. "And thank you very much for indulging me, both of you. I should be on my way, though. Have a good day, Islay, T'gar." Morelenth, about that time, relands on the edge of the ledge, letting E'sere head out to mount up again and then leave.
"Clear skies, E'sere," is offered from Islay. "And my duty to your Morelenth." Proper greetings, after all, are important, according to L'mon. "Please give my best to Aivey." There. Niceties are appropriate, too. "Thank you for coming by, and I'll get th' book back t'you soon's I finish it." She remains standing by T'gar, almost like he's some kind of solid thing in her life now.
T'gar lifts his free hand to offer the bronzerider a casual farewell and Echeloth rumbles something along the same lines, "Of course." When the pair have taken back to the sky, T'gar leans forward, "I might have to get you working on this stuff if you keep telling everyone I can do it." His tone is teasing and light, though he seems to be telling the truth.
Islay turns to T'gar and impulsively lays her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean t'say anything wrong," she says. "I was just telling him that we had a chair, 'cause I was so ..." She doesn't finish. "I'm sorry, but I'm proud of your chair. Ain't nobody else got one I know of."
T'gar shakes his head and moves a hand to touch her hair. He kisses the top of her head like it's the most natural thing in the world. "Don't apologize, you didn't do or say anything wrong. Maybe I can get Nera to just let me do this for a little while," he shrugs absently. "I'm glad you like the chair, though."
Islay looks up at him. "I do like it," she says and there's honesty in those eyes of hers. "I think it's a great chair. It don't shake 'r wobble, an' it's a lot more comfortable than th' floor, like you said." She smiles at him, reaching a hand up to brush a strand of her hair back off her face. "An' I'll help you, if you can tell me what t'do. I don't mind learning how t'do new things. I ain't too good at carving, but I can find vines an' stuff. I'm sure Nera'd not mind some new stuff, like tables an' all, mebbe."
T'gar smiles down at her and chuckles. "I'm not going to make you learn how to do anything you wouldn't want to do yourself, little one. Besides, I'm sure plenty of people would miss the fish you bring in. But if you get bored, some vines and stuff would definitely be a help. We'll just play it by ear for now. Give me a way to occupy my mind," he assures her.
Islay's smile widens. "Oh, like anyone would miss fish?" she teases, knowing most of the islanders have grown /more/ than bored with the same fare each and every day. "Don't worry, T'gar, I'll keep on fishing. I ain't caught Big Blue yet, yanno? He an' me's got a date with destiny," she says, winking. "I'll get you th' vines, no problem. An' I find rope now an then washed up on th' beach." She reaches a hand out to tickle his stomach just a bit. "That book what I'm reading? -- E'sere called it a romance book. They use funny words t'one another, but it's nice. I could read it aloud t'you, if you want. It'd be good practice for me."
T'gar ruffles her hair gently, then lets her go and steps back to settle himself down on a slight incline in the floor. "Ah, yes. He'll be a special meal for you. Or maybe we should just hang him above your bed," he teases. "A romance, hmm? I didn't know you liked that sort of thing. I'd love for you to read it out loud sometime, though. I haven't even thought about picking up a book in a long time," he grins.
Islay grins, sitting on The Chair. "I didn't know what kind of book that was, but he said it might be a good read," she says, meaning E'sere. "He's got a couple more he said I could read, too, when I finish this one. Poetry. Isn't that like songs without music, kinda?" she asks, glancing over at the bed and the book. "An' that cover is leather. Can you believe they use leather for books on th' mainland?" this seems to fill her with wonder. She grins down at T'gar. "An' Echeloth was real careful with me. I didn't even fall off, but I was scared without you there."
T'gar chuckles to himself and gives his head a small nod. "I've seen leather bound books. Leather isn't quite so rare on that side," he notes. "Use it for all sorts of things," he says this with a touch of nostalgia but quickly schools his face back into a steady smile. "Good that he took care of you. I'd be very upset if he hadn't," he says this loud enough that if he couldn't speak to the dragon without saying anything, the dragon would be sure to hear.
"I still want t'ride with you, though," Islay says, swinging her feet beneath the chair much like a little girl might. "An' I thought mebbe I might try t'trade some chores for rabbit skins. I can sew, sort of good, so I could mebbe make you a cover for yer bed, like we talked about oncet." She seems a little shy about that, but grins. "Th' folks in this book have furs on th' bed. An' they talk kinda strange. I don't know all th' words, so ... could I mebbe ask you what they mean?"
"We can go for a real ride sometime. Maybe when the rain lets up," he assures Islay with a nod. "I bet a cover like that would be more coveted than the actual bed," he teases her. Stretching his legs out in front of him, he nods, "Sure, ask away, little one. Can't promise -I'll- know what they mean, but I'll give it a shot."
Like a shot Islay's up from the chair, fetching the book and coming back over to the table. It's opened and she scans the pages until she finds the word she's looking for. "Deflowered." The word is said slowly. "What does that mean? Ain't never heard that word b'fore." Her head is canted to the side, and she looks down the page. "And what's 'matrimony' mean?"
T'gar clears his throat when she says the first word. He should have expected that, really, but for some reason he hadn't. If anyone else had asked him, his answer probably would have been more straightforward, but this isn't anyone else. This is Islay. "Well," he begins thoughtfully, "To take away someone's innocence is to deflower them. Usually it refers to a woman losing her virginity. As for matrimony, that would be marriage."
Islay's mouth forms a small "oh" at the answer. "Well, that makes sense, now," she says, glancing down at the book again. "But why didn't he just say he took her virginity? S'not like it don't happen all th' time." she asks, her cheeks just a little pink. "I don't know why they don't just use plain words for things, 'stead of being all fancy." She looks at the book again, then closes it. "Guess mainlanders don't like plain speaking." She shrugs. "If I come acrosst any other words I don't understand, I'll ask you, all right?"
T'gar can't help grinning, but he does shrug at her comment. "I really don't know why they don't just say that. Seems easier. Never really known a writer looking to take the easy road, though. Or maybe they think it sounds better. Personally, I'd rather," he cuts himself off and glances up at Islay, then shakes his head, changing his mind about going through with that thought. "All right. I'll do my best."
"You d'ruther ... what?" Islay asks curiously, getting up from the chair and replacing the book next to her bed, being careful not to damage it in any way. When she turns back around, she doesn't return to the chair, but sits down beside him on the floor. "Do I make you uncomfortable, T'gar? You seem t'start t'say something, then stop all th' time." She reaches a hand out and touches his arm. "I don't want you t'be ... uncomfortable with me. If you want, I'll find someplace else t'stay."
"You don't make me uncomfortable at all, Islay. Certainly not in a bad way." T'gar smiles at the small woman when she touches his arm. "No, I just don't want to make you uncomfortable. Just because I'm not used to living with you doesn't mean I want to run you off."
"I don't want t'leave," Islay admits. "I like it here with you, T'gar. You talk t'me like I'm something special, an' y'don't make me uncomfortable." She pauses a moment, and doesn't move her hand from his arm, instead, rubs it down his bicep a little, perhaps trying to assure him of her lack of discomfort around him. "I trust you. You make me feel safe."
"See?" he says, "That plan seems to be working quite well then, doesn't it." He moves his other hand to catch the one she's touching him with. "You are special, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. But you being so comfortable makes it harder to keep my hands to myself," at least he's honest.
Islay chuckles. "I don't mind you touching me, T'gar," she says, voice soft. "In that book, th' guy's always touching th' girl, kissing her hand. He seems t'like kissing all kinds of places on her, matter of fact." She looks at her hand on his arm. "Ain't nothing special 'bout me, 'cept mebbe I'm good at fishing. I'm little an' I'm skinny, an' I don't look like them girls in th' hold." She grins again. "But, you make me feel special, an' I like that." A moment of silence. "Why come you ain't tried t'kiss me like that feller in th' book?"
T'gar lets her hand loose to lift his to her face, trailing his rough thumb across her cheek. "Most men do like that sort of thing. I'm no exception and it's nothing about the way you look that's holding me back, Islay. But I've seen your eyes. I don't want them to look like they do when you talk about your da, little one, not when you're looking at me. I can be slow. I can be patient. I can wait until you're begging me to touch you," and that thought certainly appeals to him, regardless of whether or not it would happen. "I just don't want to scare you away, gorgeous." He pauses a moment, then grins, "You want me to try?"
Islay listens to him, and there's a dawning in her expression. "I ain't never gonna look at you like I look at Da," she says, and means it. "You ain't like him. You ain't never gonna be like him." She seems so certain of that, so profoundly sure of it. "If you was like him, I wouldn't be here now. I wouldn't never have spoke t'you more'n once." She pauses. "Ain't scared of you, only that oncet when you startled me, is all, an' that was only 'cause I didn't recognize you in th' dark." And then, another, longer pause. "Ain't never been kissed like what it says in that book." A beat. "You can try, if you wants."
Maybe he should look relieved, but he doesn't seem quite so sure as she does. Not that he's like her father, but that she might decide he's close enough if he does something wrong. "I'm glad you're not scared of me, little one. And I'm very glad you're here with me." His smile broadens a little, certainly willing to try, but he doesn't dive in just yet. "What does it say in the book?"
"Well, it says he took her in his arms, an' looked longingly int'her eyes, an' then took 'er lips," Islay replies. "I don't know how he took her lips, but she seemed t'enjoy it, 'cause she melted when he did it." Her lips twitch a little and her eyes dance with a bit of mirth. "I figure that's a kiss, right? Him holding her an' all. That sounds nice, but I don't know if I wants anyone taking my lips."
T'gar chuckles and gives a harmless sort of shrug. "Well, lets see," he says, standing, then shaking out his hands like he's getting ready to do something difficult. "He took her in his arms," he continues, holding a hand out so he can help her up and pull her close to him, into his arms. "And looked longingly into her eyes." No problem there, his dark eyes full of all the want and need he's been so careful not to show her outright. He doesn't say the last, instead tilting his head down to touch his lips tentatively to hers. But the book said that he took her lips, so T'gar doesn't give Islay much chance to back out. His arm tightens around her back and he lets the kiss turn deeper, eager for his part and he makes a strained sound as a hand slides down her back to pull her hips to his.
There's a moment of hesitation when T'gar holds his hand out to Islay, but after that moment, she places hers in his, and allows herself to be pulled up. The arms going around her she doesn't mind; he's held her before, after all. And, the expression in his eyes, well, if that's slightly different than he usually looks at her, he's pretending to be that guy in the book, isn't he? But the kiss. That's ... different. Sure, she's had a boy or two try to kiss her, but that was clumsy, adolescent fumbling, and this is not. It's practiced, it's smooth, and it's nice. Very nice. Her hands are resting on his arms until he pulls her closer, and the kiss deepens. Then they seem to move of their own accord, up his arms to his shoulders, then, stretching on tiptoes, they can kind of encircle his neck. At least he's bent over to kiss her, and that makes it easier to hold him. It's warm now, the dampness and chill of a rainy night forgotten. Afraid? Why on earth would she ever be afraid of someone who could make her feel this special?
Just that she is willing to contribute to the kiss, let him take her lips, makes T'gar a happy man and if he didn't have to breath, he wouldn't want to let it end quite so quickly. But with a reluctant murmur, T'gar lifts his head and chuckles. "Eh, not that bad, I think," he says, though the stirring below his waist that he neither tries to hide nor point out might suggest he feels slightly otherwise. "I'm a little out of practice," he admits with a charming little smile and looks down into her eyes like he's hoping it's anywhere near what she'd thought the kiss in the book might be like.
Those eyes are almost closed, and what can be seen of them shows they are far away, almost unfocused. She doesn't move her hands, not unless he straightens up, and then they will only slip back down to his arms. Islay stands there, unmoving. "No ... not bad," she finally whispers, and her breathing is slightly different, a little raspy. "Don't know but what that were pretty practiced t'me," she adds, then seems to come a bit back into the here and now from where she was. She does lift her eyes to meet his now, and they're shining. "It were ... was real nice, T'gar. Kind of nicer'n I thought it would be." She shivers just a little, then laughs softly. "I think m'heart's gonna beat right outta my chest. Is it s'posed t'do that?"
T'gar only stands back up after several moments, but he doesn't let her go. "Well, I assure you I haven't kissed anyone for at least a minute," his tone is teasing, but deep and still a little eager. "I'm glad to hear that, gorgeous, very glad." He chuckles at her last comment and moves on of his hands up to take hers and pull it to his lips. He kisses the back of her hand, then opens it up slowly to kiss her palm gently. "Does it feel like it's supposed to?" Sometimes the head and the heart, or other various body parts, don't agree with each other, after all.
"I th-think so," Islay answers, her eyes on his lips where they touch her palm. "Kinda like when you run an' run an' then yer heart beats so fast ..." She nods. "It's like that, an' it didn't feel bad, just kinda good." She swallows and then moistens her lips. "An' it was like I couldn't breathe," she adds, smiling now. "I liked it, T'gar, I really did." If she notices any other reactions on him, well, she either hasn't made the connection or it doesn't seem to bother her any. "Makes me feel warm, too."
T'gar kisses her hand one last time, eyes closed, then lets it go and takes a deep breath before he opens his eyes again. "Sounds kind of nice to me," he agrees. "I liked it, too," he continues, moving both his hands to rest on her hips and giving her plenty of room to not have to be pressed so close to him or to let her move away altogether if she wishes. "Very much. Warm is nice. I might have to go stand over there a moment, though," he grins, glancing toward the ledge where Echeloth is resting as though no one else is around.
"A breath of cool air might be nice," Islay agrees, but probably not for the same reason T'gar suggests it. "I don't mind th' rain, but it does get a mite cool up here at times," she adds. "Was so cold last night, I almost brought m'blanket over and curled up next t'you," she tells him, not making a move to leave the circle of his arms. "Didn't wanna wake you up, though, so I just curled up in a tight ball with m'blanket." She looks up at him, standing on tiptoes to kiss his stubbled chin. "You go over there an' get all wet, I got a towel you can use."
T'gar smiles at her show of affection. "Don't worry about waking me up, little one. Even if I were worried about it, I'd rather be up all night with you warm and comfortable than you shivering by yourself." Of course, being able to cuddle up with her probably holds its fair amount of weight, too. Finally he kisses her forehead and detaches himself from her, turning away quickly because the thin fabric of his pants leaves little to the imagination. He walks over to the ledge and leans on the side where Echeloth isn't blocking his ability to do so.
Islay watches T'gar, not really understanding everything he says, but enough of it to make her feel a warm fluttering in her stomach. "I think curling up next t'you would be nice, too," she says after a few minutes. "If you make that bed, mebbe I'd share it on occasion," she adds, maybe not understanding /all/ the implications of her words, but she's not totally the innocent. "I might not mind being in a bed with you." And there's a softness to her voice as she says this. "I don't think you'd make me do anything I didn't want to."
T'gar is silent for a long while, arms crossed over his chest. "What if you did mind?" he finally asks without turning back. He's quite content to stand in the cool rain, pushing a stray rock off of the ledge with his bare foot. "Would you go back down there?" He shakes his head and continues thoughtfully, "I don't think I could let you do that." With a glance over his shoulder, he smiles and reassures, "No, nothing you don't want to."
There's a long moment of silence from Islay, and then the soft sound of her feet padding across the cave floor. It's not hard to figure that she's come up behind him, and the small hands that slip around his waist confirm it. Her cheek is laid against his back, her hair soft on his skin. "If I did mind, I'd not be here, T'gar," she says softly, the harsh quality of her voice for the moment non-existent. "I ain't no total innocent. I know what goes on when y'share a bed." She's quiet, then, "No, I ain't going back down there. Not s'long as you let me stay here."
T'gar makes a faint, but content sound when she comes to him and he moves a hand to touch hers gently. "Nothing has to go on when you share a bed," he notes absently. "And I wouldn't be mad if you didn't want anything to happen," he says like he thinks she might need to hear it. It's not to say he wouldn't want anything to happen, though, because he's still not turning to face her. "You'll always be welcome here, Islay."
"Thanks, T'gar," Islay says, her breath warm against his back. "I trust you, an' if I ever want something t'go on, I'll let you know." The words are softly said, a whisper. "I ain't never been as close t'someone as I've been with you, and I like it. It's ... it feels good an' safe." A brief pause. "I know you said that wouldn't push me, an' I b'lieve you. I think, though, I'd like to curl up with you t'night. Just t'see if ... if mebbe I liked it as much as I think I would." She gives him a little squeeze, then lets him go. "I'm gonna go t'bed, now, if y'don't mind. You blow out th' light when you're ready t'sleep. It won't keep me awake."
He doesn't move beyond a slight nod of his head, but nothing about him seems to suggest he'd rather her not be so close. "That's fine, Islay," he says quietly. "Good night," he adds after another moment, glancing over his shoulder to watch her when she moves further back into the cave. Echeloth shifts in his apparent sleep, drawing T'gar's gaze away from the woman, and finally back out into the dark, with a sigh.
Players: Islay, E'sere, T'gar (Morelenth & Echeloth)
Location: T'gar & Echeloth's Cave
Synopsis: E'sere drops by to discuss T'gar building some furniture for him, and then T'gar and Islay talk. Their relationship takes a turn for the different. WARNING: Mild adult interaction and sexual connotations.
T'gar and Echeloth's Cave,
Evening
About half-way up the side of Dragonweyr cliffs, the moderately sized cave is wider than it is deep, the walls curving upwards to form an arched roof. The floor is relatively even, though it slants upwards a little toward the back. The cave mouth is wide, the extended overhang offering Echeloth at least partial protection from inclement weather. A narrow, treacherous foot-path snakes its way up the cliff-face from below, making access to the cave dangerous but not impossible.
Inside the cavern is mostly empty. Dried leaves are piled to one side, forming a fairly comfortable padding between occupant and rock floor. A rough-hewn board is propped between two relatively flat-topped rocks to form a shelf where what few clothes and possessions the owner has are placed. Roughly centered in the cave is a stalagmite with the upper portion knocked off, the remainder smoothed to form a table of sorts. There is one chair made from island wood, held together by vines and pegs, serviceable if not overly comfortable. The cave is dry, and does get a breeze off the ocean during the warmer months.
Rain. Enough rain to satisfy any nature lover and then some. It's a quiet evening, with Islay seated in The Chair, the book she borrowed from E'sere open on the makeshift table, the lamp glowing warmly in the otherwise dimly lighted cave she shares with T'gar. The girl's head is lowered over the writing, a finger following each word as she reads, her lips moving silently as she tries to make out the words. So many are hard for her, and occasionally she will lift her head, staring out the cave mouth trying to sound the mysterious letters out in a bare whisper. Echeloth is quiet on his ledge, while T'gar ... well, she hasn't been watching him, so she's not really sure what he's doing. Her bed is neatly made against one wall of the cavern, the dried leaves carefully arranged beneath the spread blanket. Peaceful in the cave. Yes. Just the sound of rain falling.
<< Echeloth? >> Morelenth's voice is warm, curious, as he reaches out unobtrusively, for the moment his contact mental only. << Is yours home? May E'sere and I come to speak with him? >>
T'gar is quiet, laying in his somewhat less neatly made bed, and probably lacking full consciousness, which would certainly make him easy to forget about for now. He only grumbles and slings his arm over his face when Echeloth lifts his head and glances back at him. << He is. >> His voice is perhaps a little amused as he continues, << Certainly. Yours would be welcome. >>
<< Thank you, >> Morelenth answers. << We come. >> Within another minute, the bronze is approaching, touching down on the edge of the ledge just long enough for E'sere to slide down. Then, the dragon departs again, leaving E'sere to head to the doorway and stop, rapping a couple of times on the stone. "Evening. Am I intruding?"
Islay, of course, is completely oblivious to the exchange between the dragons -- at least until she hears wings from another dragon and looks up as Morelenth lands. She blinks, glancing over at T'gar, then to E'sere. "Um... no," she replies to the question asked, looking just a little surprised, but certainly not displeased. "I was just reading." Well, isn't that obvious? "Lots of big words in th' book, but I'm doing all right with 'em." She closes the book carefully, making certain none of the pages are dog-eared -- though someone else hasn't been that cautious, she notes -- and rises. The book is picked up and transported to her bed, placed on her pillow. "T'gar...?" is said, not certain if the brownrider is awake or not.
Echeloth warbles a deep greeting to the bronze and his rider from where he lays pressed as far back into the cave as he can be without being a nuisance to the people. He either says something to his rider or T'gar hears Islay say his name because he sits up with a start and glances over at them both. His gaze settles onto E'sere with vague confusion as he pushes himself to his feet and runs a hand through his hair. "We have company," he notes obviously and composes himself. "What's the occasion?"
"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to wake you," E'sere apologizes to T'gar, ducking his head. "Or to interrupt your reading," is added to Islay, with a small smile. "Are you enjoying it so far? I have to admit, it's not absolutely scintillating, but there /are/ worse things one could read, I suppose. How are you both today, Islay, T'gar?" A glance to the brownrider, then the chair, and back again. "Islay had told me the other day you had made furniture before," he states his errand after a moment.
Islay regards her roommate with a slight smile on her lips. "You ain't interrupting anything," she says, standing in the middle of the cave not really adept at the socializing thing. And, it's not her cave, after all. But, she nods to E'sere as he speaks, then quirks a brow. "Scinti ... scint'lating? What's that mean?" she asks, her smallish vocabulary showing its limits, much to her chagrin, apparently. "I'm doing all right with it, but I don't always get what they're saying. They talk real funny t'each other." Then she falls silent, letting E'sere bring up what he wishes to discuss with T'gar. She does look at the chair, though, regarding it with some degree of pride in her expression.
T'gar shakes his head dismissively and says, despite a yawn, "Don't worry about it. Wasn't really sleeping." He glances at Islay where she stands, shifting his gaze only briefly to the book deposited on her pillow. "Stimulating, clever, good," he sounds off several definitions absently and turns his attention to the chair. "I have. Not too much. And certainly nothing worth much note," he says, eyeing Islay for a handful of moments rather than the man who made the comment.
"Strictly, it's along the lines of 'sparkling,'" explains E'sere. "With the connotation of being fascinating or brilliant." A quick smile, a nod, and then he glances back at T'gar. "Ah. I see. Well, I was really wondering if you might be able to oblige me and make myself a chair as well. My weyr is unfortunately devoid of furniture at this point, so I'd appreciate it quite a lot, really." Pause. "I don't... really know," he begins slowly, "what I could offer you in return, my useful skills at this point still being largely negligible, but if you know of anything..."
Islay watches T'gar with a slightly uncertain expression, as if she's afraid she might have done or said something wrong. When both men offer a definition of "scintillating," she nods, biting her lower lip a moment before murmuring a soft, "Thanks." She then moves toward her bed once more, but doesn't settle on it. Instead, she leans against the cave wall, listening. This is, after all, something between E'sere and T'gar. She knows nothing of making furniture, nor of bargaining -- save with trading chores, island style.
T'gar turns his attention more fully to the bronzerider and gives his head a small nod. "I'm sure something can be arranged." He pauses and gestures to the chair, which he obviously doesn't think is that big of a deal. "Something like that? Or did you have something else in mind?"
E'sere's answer is to turn and stride over to the chair, inspecting it from various angles and then seating himself in it, his expression thoughtful. From that position, he nods once and glances to T'gar. "I think this will do nicely, actually, thank you," he affirms as he stands back up. "I'd appreciate it quite a lot. How long do you think it will take to make?"
Once more Islay regards the chair and remains silent. Almost shy. Certainly not gregarious or forth-coming with witty remarks. Instead, she simply listens, her gaze going between E'sere and T'gar and The Chair. Finally, she moves back towards the riders. "Would you like something t'drink?" she asks, being at least as hospitable as she can be. "Afraid all we got's water, but it's flavored with citron. S'not too bad." Of course, with all the rain, water is not scarce, and the fruit flavoring comes from what's left over from meals so it's not wasted. There are two more cups in addition to T'gar's, both crudely carved from small gourds. It's into two of them she pours the drinks, setting them on the table.
T'gar falls silent, obviously thinking, then he shrugs. "Hard to say, really. The wood's been soaked pretty good out there with all this rain. You don't want anything that will end up molding or rotting. I'll see what I can find and get back to you about that. I'd say no more than two weeks what with my own duties needing to be done foremost." Perhaps it's broad estimation, but T'gar doesn't seem as though rushing work on his free time is at the top of his priority list.
E'sere nods slowly in answer to T'gar. "I understand. Thank you again for doing this, T'gar--I really appreciate it, and if you'll let me know what I can do in return, I would be happy to oblige. I... might actually need another one at some point, as Aivey's already claimed this one for hers," he confesses, shaking his head. "Which reminds me," E'sere adds, glancing back to Islay, "I should apologize for the other day. I had forgotten to warn her I was having someone over, so she was a little surprised to come home to find someone. And no, thank you--I'm all right," he waves off her offer of a drink.
Islay blinks at the apology offered. "Ain't no need t'apologize t'me," she says quietly, lifting one of the cups to her lips. "I know she don't like me, an' likely thought I was up t'something by being there." Honest to a fault, that's Islay. No beating around the bush with her. "I ain't upset 'r nothing." She sets the cup down. "Seems t'me, though, that if someone's gotta live 'round people, they might want t'be less prickly." A shrug. "She don't gotta worry none of me. I don't pose no never mind t'nobody." There's no anger or bitterness in her tone, just factual. "I won't go back there less'n she knows I'm coming."
T'gar nods. "Like I said, I'm sure something can be arranged. I'll think on that, too. Can't think of anything off the top of my head, though. I'll be gathering enough for two, at least, one more won't make much difference." He offers a small shrug and falls silent in favor of listening curiously to the exchange between Islay and the bronzerider. He lifts a brow at some point, but it goes back down when his gaze turns to Islay. He doesn't say anything, but he certainly doesn't roll with that particular line of thinking. Maybe that's just him.
E'sere waves off Islay's words, shaking his head. "She was just caught off guard," he tells her. "And I'll be sure to warn her next time, too. It was my slip-up, really. I won't let it happen again." He offers her a smile, then glances back at T'gar and nods once. "All right. Thank you, again, for doing this," he tells him. "I should probably let you get back to your business, though."
Islay nods, but E'sere's assurances don't really persuade her much. After all, she's met Aivey when he wasn't around, and there was enough there that she's not convinced. "It's all right," she repeats, setting the cup down. "Don't matter no how," is mumbled as she puts a hand on the back of the chair and falls silent again.
T'gar lifts a hand to touch Islay's shoulder lightly. He doesn't know much about the other side of their conversation so he says simply, "Of course," and offers a friendly enough smile.
E'sere nods once and takes a step back, then half-turns as if to leave. He changes his mind, though, before he takes another step, and turns back. "Say," he begins thoughtfully, as though the idea were just coming to him. "You wouldn't happen to be able to make beds, too, would you, T'gar?"
Islay's head comes up at this inquiry, and there's a small smile on her lips as she regards T'gar. The hand on her shoulder isn't shrugged off, instead, she sort of leans against him a little. "Bed," she repeats, chuckling. "I done asked him about that. A real bed would be good, wouldn't it?" This to E'sere, since apparently, they share that desire. "I miss a bed almost more'n anything else, 'cept maybe a good roasted herdbeast."
T'gar frowns at the question, glancing once at Islay. "Well," he starts thoughtfully. "I've never actually made one. But I've been trying to think of a way that I could. That's something I'll have to sort out before I'll actually say I can make 'em." At this rate, he might just have to take up carpentry as his typical daily chore.
"Well, if you do work out a way to do it, let me know, please," E'sere requests with a quick smile. "And thank you very much for indulging me, both of you. I should be on my way, though. Have a good day, Islay, T'gar." Morelenth, about that time, relands on the edge of the ledge, letting E'sere head out to mount up again and then leave.
"Clear skies, E'sere," is offered from Islay. "And my duty to your Morelenth." Proper greetings, after all, are important, according to L'mon. "Please give my best to Aivey." There. Niceties are appropriate, too. "Thank you for coming by, and I'll get th' book back t'you soon's I finish it." She remains standing by T'gar, almost like he's some kind of solid thing in her life now.
T'gar lifts his free hand to offer the bronzerider a casual farewell and Echeloth rumbles something along the same lines, "Of course." When the pair have taken back to the sky, T'gar leans forward, "I might have to get you working on this stuff if you keep telling everyone I can do it." His tone is teasing and light, though he seems to be telling the truth.
Islay turns to T'gar and impulsively lays her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean t'say anything wrong," she says. "I was just telling him that we had a chair, 'cause I was so ..." She doesn't finish. "I'm sorry, but I'm proud of your chair. Ain't nobody else got one I know of."
T'gar shakes his head and moves a hand to touch her hair. He kisses the top of her head like it's the most natural thing in the world. "Don't apologize, you didn't do or say anything wrong. Maybe I can get Nera to just let me do this for a little while," he shrugs absently. "I'm glad you like the chair, though."
Islay looks up at him. "I do like it," she says and there's honesty in those eyes of hers. "I think it's a great chair. It don't shake 'r wobble, an' it's a lot more comfortable than th' floor, like you said." She smiles at him, reaching a hand up to brush a strand of her hair back off her face. "An' I'll help you, if you can tell me what t'do. I don't mind learning how t'do new things. I ain't too good at carving, but I can find vines an' stuff. I'm sure Nera'd not mind some new stuff, like tables an' all, mebbe."
T'gar smiles down at her and chuckles. "I'm not going to make you learn how to do anything you wouldn't want to do yourself, little one. Besides, I'm sure plenty of people would miss the fish you bring in. But if you get bored, some vines and stuff would definitely be a help. We'll just play it by ear for now. Give me a way to occupy my mind," he assures her.
Islay's smile widens. "Oh, like anyone would miss fish?" she teases, knowing most of the islanders have grown /more/ than bored with the same fare each and every day. "Don't worry, T'gar, I'll keep on fishing. I ain't caught Big Blue yet, yanno? He an' me's got a date with destiny," she says, winking. "I'll get you th' vines, no problem. An' I find rope now an then washed up on th' beach." She reaches a hand out to tickle his stomach just a bit. "That book what I'm reading? -- E'sere called it a romance book. They use funny words t'one another, but it's nice. I could read it aloud t'you, if you want. It'd be good practice for me."
T'gar ruffles her hair gently, then lets her go and steps back to settle himself down on a slight incline in the floor. "Ah, yes. He'll be a special meal for you. Or maybe we should just hang him above your bed," he teases. "A romance, hmm? I didn't know you liked that sort of thing. I'd love for you to read it out loud sometime, though. I haven't even thought about picking up a book in a long time," he grins.
Islay grins, sitting on The Chair. "I didn't know what kind of book that was, but he said it might be a good read," she says, meaning E'sere. "He's got a couple more he said I could read, too, when I finish this one. Poetry. Isn't that like songs without music, kinda?" she asks, glancing over at the bed and the book. "An' that cover is leather. Can you believe they use leather for books on th' mainland?" this seems to fill her with wonder. She grins down at T'gar. "An' Echeloth was real careful with me. I didn't even fall off, but I was scared without you there."
T'gar chuckles to himself and gives his head a small nod. "I've seen leather bound books. Leather isn't quite so rare on that side," he notes. "Use it for all sorts of things," he says this with a touch of nostalgia but quickly schools his face back into a steady smile. "Good that he took care of you. I'd be very upset if he hadn't," he says this loud enough that if he couldn't speak to the dragon without saying anything, the dragon would be sure to hear.
"I still want t'ride with you, though," Islay says, swinging her feet beneath the chair much like a little girl might. "An' I thought mebbe I might try t'trade some chores for rabbit skins. I can sew, sort of good, so I could mebbe make you a cover for yer bed, like we talked about oncet." She seems a little shy about that, but grins. "Th' folks in this book have furs on th' bed. An' they talk kinda strange. I don't know all th' words, so ... could I mebbe ask you what they mean?"
"We can go for a real ride sometime. Maybe when the rain lets up," he assures Islay with a nod. "I bet a cover like that would be more coveted than the actual bed," he teases her. Stretching his legs out in front of him, he nods, "Sure, ask away, little one. Can't promise -I'll- know what they mean, but I'll give it a shot."
Like a shot Islay's up from the chair, fetching the book and coming back over to the table. It's opened and she scans the pages until she finds the word she's looking for. "Deflowered." The word is said slowly. "What does that mean? Ain't never heard that word b'fore." Her head is canted to the side, and she looks down the page. "And what's 'matrimony' mean?"
T'gar clears his throat when she says the first word. He should have expected that, really, but for some reason he hadn't. If anyone else had asked him, his answer probably would have been more straightforward, but this isn't anyone else. This is Islay. "Well," he begins thoughtfully, "To take away someone's innocence is to deflower them. Usually it refers to a woman losing her virginity. As for matrimony, that would be marriage."
Islay's mouth forms a small "oh" at the answer. "Well, that makes sense, now," she says, glancing down at the book again. "But why didn't he just say he took her virginity? S'not like it don't happen all th' time." she asks, her cheeks just a little pink. "I don't know why they don't just use plain words for things, 'stead of being all fancy." She looks at the book again, then closes it. "Guess mainlanders don't like plain speaking." She shrugs. "If I come acrosst any other words I don't understand, I'll ask you, all right?"
T'gar can't help grinning, but he does shrug at her comment. "I really don't know why they don't just say that. Seems easier. Never really known a writer looking to take the easy road, though. Or maybe they think it sounds better. Personally, I'd rather," he cuts himself off and glances up at Islay, then shakes his head, changing his mind about going through with that thought. "All right. I'll do my best."
"You d'ruther ... what?" Islay asks curiously, getting up from the chair and replacing the book next to her bed, being careful not to damage it in any way. When she turns back around, she doesn't return to the chair, but sits down beside him on the floor. "Do I make you uncomfortable, T'gar? You seem t'start t'say something, then stop all th' time." She reaches a hand out and touches his arm. "I don't want you t'be ... uncomfortable with me. If you want, I'll find someplace else t'stay."
"You don't make me uncomfortable at all, Islay. Certainly not in a bad way." T'gar smiles at the small woman when she touches his arm. "No, I just don't want to make you uncomfortable. Just because I'm not used to living with you doesn't mean I want to run you off."
"I don't want t'leave," Islay admits. "I like it here with you, T'gar. You talk t'me like I'm something special, an' y'don't make me uncomfortable." She pauses a moment, and doesn't move her hand from his arm, instead, rubs it down his bicep a little, perhaps trying to assure him of her lack of discomfort around him. "I trust you. You make me feel safe."
"See?" he says, "That plan seems to be working quite well then, doesn't it." He moves his other hand to catch the one she's touching him with. "You are special, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. But you being so comfortable makes it harder to keep my hands to myself," at least he's honest.
Islay chuckles. "I don't mind you touching me, T'gar," she says, voice soft. "In that book, th' guy's always touching th' girl, kissing her hand. He seems t'like kissing all kinds of places on her, matter of fact." She looks at her hand on his arm. "Ain't nothing special 'bout me, 'cept mebbe I'm good at fishing. I'm little an' I'm skinny, an' I don't look like them girls in th' hold." She grins again. "But, you make me feel special, an' I like that." A moment of silence. "Why come you ain't tried t'kiss me like that feller in th' book?"
T'gar lets her hand loose to lift his to her face, trailing his rough thumb across her cheek. "Most men do like that sort of thing. I'm no exception and it's nothing about the way you look that's holding me back, Islay. But I've seen your eyes. I don't want them to look like they do when you talk about your da, little one, not when you're looking at me. I can be slow. I can be patient. I can wait until you're begging me to touch you," and that thought certainly appeals to him, regardless of whether or not it would happen. "I just don't want to scare you away, gorgeous." He pauses a moment, then grins, "You want me to try?"
Islay listens to him, and there's a dawning in her expression. "I ain't never gonna look at you like I look at Da," she says, and means it. "You ain't like him. You ain't never gonna be like him." She seems so certain of that, so profoundly sure of it. "If you was like him, I wouldn't be here now. I wouldn't never have spoke t'you more'n once." She pauses. "Ain't scared of you, only that oncet when you startled me, is all, an' that was only 'cause I didn't recognize you in th' dark." And then, another, longer pause. "Ain't never been kissed like what it says in that book." A beat. "You can try, if you wants."
Maybe he should look relieved, but he doesn't seem quite so sure as she does. Not that he's like her father, but that she might decide he's close enough if he does something wrong. "I'm glad you're not scared of me, little one. And I'm very glad you're here with me." His smile broadens a little, certainly willing to try, but he doesn't dive in just yet. "What does it say in the book?"
"Well, it says he took her in his arms, an' looked longingly int'her eyes, an' then took 'er lips," Islay replies. "I don't know how he took her lips, but she seemed t'enjoy it, 'cause she melted when he did it." Her lips twitch a little and her eyes dance with a bit of mirth. "I figure that's a kiss, right? Him holding her an' all. That sounds nice, but I don't know if I wants anyone taking my lips."
T'gar chuckles and gives a harmless sort of shrug. "Well, lets see," he says, standing, then shaking out his hands like he's getting ready to do something difficult. "He took her in his arms," he continues, holding a hand out so he can help her up and pull her close to him, into his arms. "And looked longingly into her eyes." No problem there, his dark eyes full of all the want and need he's been so careful not to show her outright. He doesn't say the last, instead tilting his head down to touch his lips tentatively to hers. But the book said that he took her lips, so T'gar doesn't give Islay much chance to back out. His arm tightens around her back and he lets the kiss turn deeper, eager for his part and he makes a strained sound as a hand slides down her back to pull her hips to his.
There's a moment of hesitation when T'gar holds his hand out to Islay, but after that moment, she places hers in his, and allows herself to be pulled up. The arms going around her she doesn't mind; he's held her before, after all. And, the expression in his eyes, well, if that's slightly different than he usually looks at her, he's pretending to be that guy in the book, isn't he? But the kiss. That's ... different. Sure, she's had a boy or two try to kiss her, but that was clumsy, adolescent fumbling, and this is not. It's practiced, it's smooth, and it's nice. Very nice. Her hands are resting on his arms until he pulls her closer, and the kiss deepens. Then they seem to move of their own accord, up his arms to his shoulders, then, stretching on tiptoes, they can kind of encircle his neck. At least he's bent over to kiss her, and that makes it easier to hold him. It's warm now, the dampness and chill of a rainy night forgotten. Afraid? Why on earth would she ever be afraid of someone who could make her feel this special?
Just that she is willing to contribute to the kiss, let him take her lips, makes T'gar a happy man and if he didn't have to breath, he wouldn't want to let it end quite so quickly. But with a reluctant murmur, T'gar lifts his head and chuckles. "Eh, not that bad, I think," he says, though the stirring below his waist that he neither tries to hide nor point out might suggest he feels slightly otherwise. "I'm a little out of practice," he admits with a charming little smile and looks down into her eyes like he's hoping it's anywhere near what she'd thought the kiss in the book might be like.
Those eyes are almost closed, and what can be seen of them shows they are far away, almost unfocused. She doesn't move her hands, not unless he straightens up, and then they will only slip back down to his arms. Islay stands there, unmoving. "No ... not bad," she finally whispers, and her breathing is slightly different, a little raspy. "Don't know but what that were pretty practiced t'me," she adds, then seems to come a bit back into the here and now from where she was. She does lift her eyes to meet his now, and they're shining. "It were ... was real nice, T'gar. Kind of nicer'n I thought it would be." She shivers just a little, then laughs softly. "I think m'heart's gonna beat right outta my chest. Is it s'posed t'do that?"
T'gar only stands back up after several moments, but he doesn't let her go. "Well, I assure you I haven't kissed anyone for at least a minute," his tone is teasing, but deep and still a little eager. "I'm glad to hear that, gorgeous, very glad." He chuckles at her last comment and moves on of his hands up to take hers and pull it to his lips. He kisses the back of her hand, then opens it up slowly to kiss her palm gently. "Does it feel like it's supposed to?" Sometimes the head and the heart, or other various body parts, don't agree with each other, after all.
"I th-think so," Islay answers, her eyes on his lips where they touch her palm. "Kinda like when you run an' run an' then yer heart beats so fast ..." She nods. "It's like that, an' it didn't feel bad, just kinda good." She swallows and then moistens her lips. "An' it was like I couldn't breathe," she adds, smiling now. "I liked it, T'gar, I really did." If she notices any other reactions on him, well, she either hasn't made the connection or it doesn't seem to bother her any. "Makes me feel warm, too."
T'gar kisses her hand one last time, eyes closed, then lets it go and takes a deep breath before he opens his eyes again. "Sounds kind of nice to me," he agrees. "I liked it, too," he continues, moving both his hands to rest on her hips and giving her plenty of room to not have to be pressed so close to him or to let her move away altogether if she wishes. "Very much. Warm is nice. I might have to go stand over there a moment, though," he grins, glancing toward the ledge where Echeloth is resting as though no one else is around.
"A breath of cool air might be nice," Islay agrees, but probably not for the same reason T'gar suggests it. "I don't mind th' rain, but it does get a mite cool up here at times," she adds. "Was so cold last night, I almost brought m'blanket over and curled up next t'you," she tells him, not making a move to leave the circle of his arms. "Didn't wanna wake you up, though, so I just curled up in a tight ball with m'blanket." She looks up at him, standing on tiptoes to kiss his stubbled chin. "You go over there an' get all wet, I got a towel you can use."
T'gar smiles at her show of affection. "Don't worry about waking me up, little one. Even if I were worried about it, I'd rather be up all night with you warm and comfortable than you shivering by yourself." Of course, being able to cuddle up with her probably holds its fair amount of weight, too. Finally he kisses her forehead and detaches himself from her, turning away quickly because the thin fabric of his pants leaves little to the imagination. He walks over to the ledge and leans on the side where Echeloth isn't blocking his ability to do so.
Islay watches T'gar, not really understanding everything he says, but enough of it to make her feel a warm fluttering in her stomach. "I think curling up next t'you would be nice, too," she says after a few minutes. "If you make that bed, mebbe I'd share it on occasion," she adds, maybe not understanding /all/ the implications of her words, but she's not totally the innocent. "I might not mind being in a bed with you." And there's a softness to her voice as she says this. "I don't think you'd make me do anything I didn't want to."
T'gar is silent for a long while, arms crossed over his chest. "What if you did mind?" he finally asks without turning back. He's quite content to stand in the cool rain, pushing a stray rock off of the ledge with his bare foot. "Would you go back down there?" He shakes his head and continues thoughtfully, "I don't think I could let you do that." With a glance over his shoulder, he smiles and reassures, "No, nothing you don't want to."
There's a long moment of silence from Islay, and then the soft sound of her feet padding across the cave floor. It's not hard to figure that she's come up behind him, and the small hands that slip around his waist confirm it. Her cheek is laid against his back, her hair soft on his skin. "If I did mind, I'd not be here, T'gar," she says softly, the harsh quality of her voice for the moment non-existent. "I ain't no total innocent. I know what goes on when y'share a bed." She's quiet, then, "No, I ain't going back down there. Not s'long as you let me stay here."
T'gar makes a faint, but content sound when she comes to him and he moves a hand to touch hers gently. "Nothing has to go on when you share a bed," he notes absently. "And I wouldn't be mad if you didn't want anything to happen," he says like he thinks she might need to hear it. It's not to say he wouldn't want anything to happen, though, because he's still not turning to face her. "You'll always be welcome here, Islay."
"Thanks, T'gar," Islay says, her breath warm against his back. "I trust you, an' if I ever want something t'go on, I'll let you know." The words are softly said, a whisper. "I ain't never been as close t'someone as I've been with you, and I like it. It's ... it feels good an' safe." A brief pause. "I know you said that wouldn't push me, an' I b'lieve you. I think, though, I'd like to curl up with you t'night. Just t'see if ... if mebbe I liked it as much as I think I would." She gives him a little squeeze, then lets him go. "I'm gonna go t'bed, now, if y'don't mind. You blow out th' light when you're ready t'sleep. It won't keep me awake."
He doesn't move beyond a slight nod of his head, but nothing about him seems to suggest he'd rather her not be so close. "That's fine, Islay," he says quietly. "Good night," he adds after another moment, glancing over his shoulder to watch her when she moves further back into the cave. Echeloth shifts in his apparent sleep, drawing T'gar's gaze away from the woman, and finally back out into the dark, with a sigh.