I Like It When You Hold Me
IC Date: Day 17, Month 13, Turn 2, 7th Pass
Players: Islay, T'gar
Location: T'gar & Echeloth's Cave
Synopsis: Islay comes home to find T'gar's heard about the recent run-in she had with her father. There's a change in their relationship. WARNING: Mild invective and adult situations.
T'gar & 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.
It's been another typically rainy day, and most of the residents have sought shelter inside for the night. Islay is no exception, having ridden up just before dusk on Echeloth, as T'gar said she should instead of trying to climb the narrow path. Tonight she brings dinner with her; the usual fish, a few vegetables and some fruit. There's a skin of fresh water, as well, and another blanket she traded her bit of mirror for. The rain cools things off at night, after all. So, it's with her booty that Islay dismounts on the ledge, thanking Echeloth before she slips inside. The rain will come soon again, and she'd prefer being inside, since the clouds bode ill tonight. It's going to be a major storm, according to all the signs. A good night for sitting warm inside, yes.
T'gar is sitting in The Chair and flipping through the book Islay had borrowed from E'sere some time back. The cooler nights the rain has brought more and more often has him in an open fronted shirt with the sleeves rolled up, but his feet are still bare. The arrival of Echeloth and Islay make him put the book aside and get to his feet to help her carry what she's holding. He doesn't speak, though, like he usually does, no greetings or smiles.
Dinner is carefully carried inside, the crude wooden plate piled with food, wrapped in a towel -- a /real/ towel, another of her trades, no doubt. It's hot, and smells good. She lets him take the blanket and waterskin, and smiles -- until she sees T'gar's not smiling. Then her expression fades into wariness, and her steps toward the table slow considerably. "Evening," she says, hesitant, soft. "Brought dinner." Well, isn't that obvious. She finally reaches the table and sets down the plate after taking the towel from around it. The latter is carefully shaken out and folded. A towel will come in handy now that it's raining. "Something wrong?" she finally asks, moving over to find a clean shirt of her own, slipping it on against the chilly damp.
T'gar eyes the blanket briefly when she lets him take it and he carries it to his bed, their bed, dropping it there and turning to come back to the table with the waterskin. If he notices a change in her demeanor, he doesn't say anything about it and he settles himself back down in the chair. He picks a piece of fruit from the plate and finally turns to watch her. "Wrong? I don't know, Islay, why don't you tell me?" he returns, lifting a curious brow as he brings the fruit to his mouth.
Islay's brow creases as she picks up a piece of fish, then sets it back down. "Don't know what y'mean," she says softly. "Ain't nothing wrong with me. Just a li'l damp from getting rained on earlier." She doesn't look away, and, in fact, meets his gaze evenly, openly, head tilting slightly to the side as she regards him. "You want something t'eat? It's still warm." She again reaches for a bit of fish, breaking off a piece of the fillet and putting it in her mouth. "Brought fresh water, too -- oh, an' I traded m'mirror for th' blanket. Figured it's getting chilly at night, might come in handy." Now she looks a little sheepish. "I know I been stealing th' cover at night. Figured you might be getting cold, some."
"It looks like a nice blanket," he notes, finishing off the fruit and shaking his head when she offers him more. "So everything's alright?" his tone suggests he's giving her a chance to fess up, but he continues. "I heard that you and your da had a bit of an argument a little while ago. Want to tell me about that, maybe?" It's not so much a question as a suggestion, but with his voice as bland as it is, it might be hard to tell exactly.
"Oh." It's a small word, but carries so much meaning. Islay moistens her lips, then nods. She breaks off another piece of fish, eating, then picks up a bit of fruit. "Heard he was looking for me, so I made sure he found me down there by the cavern, an' ..." She shrugs. "Weren't much of an argument. He told me t'get back into th' cavern, an' I told him I wasn't gonna go back. He got bent, an' said some stuff." Another shrug. "He gave up an' that was that." That is the truth, only she left out a few of the nastier comments. "He ain't happy, but it don't matter none. I ain't going back down there."
T'gar lifts a hand to rub the frustration from his face. "I heard it was more than not much of an argument, but whatever you say," he says, leaving that part, at least, at that. "Some stuff?" he chuckles, but it's not exactly an amused sound. He's lived with the woman long enough to know she's just avoiding saying exactly what that stuff is. "I'm okay if you don't want to tell me things, Islay, but I will be very unhappy indeed if it gets you hurt." He doesn't say anything about it getting him hurt, but it would be safe to assume that wouldn't make him happy either.
"Ain't gonna get me hurt," Islay says, sighing. "He ain't gonna hurt me none." She bites her lower lip, however, and hesitates. "He thinks we're --" She doesn't say the word, not the one her father used, and lets the sentence just end. "He said you took what was his." She looks down and away, now. "I was gonna tell you, but you was sleeping when I come up that night. Then we were both busy, an' it's been nice here. I didn't wanna talk about him." She sighs again. "He knows what'll happen if'n he hurts someone. He ain't gonna risk no fight, but you be careful." She stops again. "I'm sorry. It weren't bad. He was just ... nasty t'me. Didn't touch me, none."
T'gar frowns at her words and seems to understand what she doesn't say. "It's okay," he finally says, standing up and gesturing for her to take the chair if she wishes. He goes to the bed and settles down on his back, hands behind his head and legs crossed at the ankles. "I'm a dragonrider, Islay. No one would dare do anything to me here." That may not be entirely true, but T'gar is arrogant when it comes to these sorts of things and Echeloth rumbles with some agreement to the rider's words.
Islay stands there for a few more seconds, then takes the plate and skin, and moves to the bed. She settles on it next to T'gar, crosslegged while she eats. He may not be hungry, but she is, and she doesn't hesitate to polish off a couple pieces of fish, licking her fingers clean before doing the same to a piece of fruit. A quick drink, and the food is set aside. Then, perhaps surprisingly, she turns and stretches out beside T'gar, head propped on one hand. Not close, but close enough that her free hand reaches out to touch his chest. "He knows th' rules," she says softly. "He ain't gonna risk Derek getting angry with him, an' he ain't gonna hurt me, neither. Not knowing I'm up here, now." The 'with you' isn't said, but it's implied. "But he's sneaky, T'gar. He ... accidents can happen. I don't want nothing happening t'you. I --" She withdraws her hand, looks down at the bed. "I don't want you being hurt 'cause of me."
"Don't worry about me, Islay," he tells her, avoiding his various pet names for her. "I can take care of myself probably better than you can. Besides, being hurt because of you is probably better than getting hurt because I'm doing something stupid," there, an attempt at humor of some kind. He can't be that put off if he's making poor attempts at jokes. "But if he's making threats," which she didn't exactly say, "Don't you think it's better I know that there might be something waiting in the dark instead of walking right into it?"
Islay has the grace to look ashamed. "Yes," she says simply. "You're right." She takes a breath, then goes on. "He said t'watch yer back, T'gar." She seems to curl in on herself, then, to lower her head and look just the slightest bit afraid. "He's mean, an' he knows he can't do nothing outright. He'll wait till you're alone, an' he'll ... I don't know what he'll do, but he's mad 'cause I'm up here with you." She closes her eyes, wrapping her arms around herself. "He thinks I'm ... that I'm doing things with you, which we ain't, but that don't make no nevermind t'him. I told him I weren't, but he ain't gonna b'lieve me." She's quiet a moment, then, "I been watching him. I wasn't gonna let him do nothing t'you."
T'gar chuckles a low sound, amused despite her apparent discomfort with it all. He pushes a hand through his hair before replacing it behind his head, then turns it to look at her. His gaze isn't quite as warm as it usually is, but it holds no ill will toward her. "Maybe we should be doing everything he thinks we're doing up here, hmm? Maybe he needs to think you're mine," this thought certainly seems to appeal to T'gar and if he thought it would work, he might press it, but he's a smart man. "And what exactly were you going to do to keep him from doing anything, Islay? Aren't you here because you didn't want to have to deal with him? Didn't want to be so vulnerable?" His voice takes on an angry edge, "I will deal with whatever -might- happen, Islay. I want you to stay out of it."
Islay continues to lay in that curled up, protective position for a long time. "I don't know," she finally admits. "I only know I weren't gonna let him hurt you," she whispers. "I'd ... I don't wanna be 'round him no more, no, but a'fore I'd let him hurt you, I'd --" She stops, burying her face in her hands. "You don't know him, T'gar. He ain't gonna come at you man t'man." Islay seems very clear on this. "I been keeping good watch, an' I wasn't gonna let him do nothing t'you nor me. Not no more. I ain't vulnerable no more. I ain't sleeping where he can find me easy, an' he ain't gonna come here 'cause of Echeloth." She lifts her head from her hands and they're slightly moist. "He called me ... names. I know they're bad. I r'member 'em from when he an' Mam used t'fight."
T'gar doesn't speak for a long while, either considering her words or trying not to say something to her that he might regret later. Echeloth rumbles and shifts himself around in response to whatever his rider is thinking, but beyond that, T'gar remains expressionless. When it seems like he's done talking about it altogether, he finally says, "Don't listen to anything he says, anything he calls you, Islay. He's a sharding fool of a man and he'll get what's coming to him sooner or later." T'gar doesn't make it sound like a personal threat, voice so plain and distanced from whatever it is he's really feeling. After another moment he leans up and over her, pushing her to try to get her to open up a little and look up at him. There's something dark in his eyes, but he smiles at her when he says, "Just stay safe, gorgeous."
Islay resists his touch for a moment, then her resolve seems to melt. Her body relaxes, unfolds and she moves until she's closer to him. "I won't," she says, and though the expression on her face is still a little uncertain, her eyes don't move from his face. "You ... you're good t'me, and you call me nice names. I don't want t'leave you, T'gar. I want t'be here with you." She searches his face with those huge, stormy-gray eyes, perhaps looking for some reassurance. "I ain't never felt like this with nobody a'fore. Ain't never wanted t'be with no one like I want t'be with you. It ain't wrong, feeling like that, is it?"
T'gar is patient, even if it's wearing thin tonight, and he waits for her to look up at him before he kisses her on the forehead and shakes his head. "There's nothing wrong with it unless you think there is, little one." His gaze softens a little. It's not really her fault he's in a foul mood and he wouldn't take it out on her even if it was. "How much do you want to be with me?" he asks, indulging himself the question with an increasingly relaxed smile as he kisses her nose and then her chin.
Islay swallows as the kisses fall on her nose and chin, half-closing her eyes. His is a question she has weighed against many things, trying to be logical and sane about her answer. "I think about when I'm lying here t'gether with you," she says softly, "an' it makes me shivery in m'stomach. I don't want t'be no where else, with nobody else. I ain't felt like that a'fore." She half-closes her eyes when the kisses fall on her nose and chin. "When you ain't around, I see you in m'head." Islay reaches out, her hand resting on his chest, fingers splayed over the skin. "I think about kissing you, an' it makes me shiver." Perhaps that's not quite the answer to his question, but it's the closest she can come. "I read that book, an' it's you an' me, not them people I see in m'head." A brief pause, then, "An' I don't think it's wrong t'feel that way. As long as you want me t'be here with you, I'll be here." A beat. "With you."
T'gar smiles as she speaks and it seems to be exactly what he wants to hear or near enough that it doesn't really matter. "I'm a lucky man indeed, hmm? I can't wait to see you again whenever we're apart, little one, and I hate to leave you on your own. I like you right here with me. If anything ever happened to you... If anyone hurt you, I'd make them regret it." He pauses briefly, searching her eyes and moving his hand to rest over her's on his chest.
Islay's eyes search T'gar's face for a long time, and then she leans up to brush her lips over his. It's a hesitant touch; she hasn't kissed often enough to know all the nuances of the activity, yet, but she's learning. "I watch th' drills t'see if I can see you an' Echeloth," she tells him, her voice soft, whispery. "An' I can't wait t'be up here at night, t'see you. I like it when you hold me, an' tell me ain't nobody gonna hurt me ever again." Another brush of her lips. "I see shells an' things on th' beach, an' I wonder if they'd make you smile." She moves away slightly, digging into her pocket, pulling out something on a piece of braided vine. "I made this while I was fishing." It's merely a shell on the vine, but it's pretty. "Thought you might like it." It's held out tentatively in her palm.
Something about him seems proud of her and his smile echoes the feeling well enough as he gazes at her. He eyes the shell and the braided vine it's on curiously when he takes it from her, nodding. "It's very nice, little one." He slips it over his head and lifts the shell up again to look at it. "I love it," he decides with a playful smile and returns one of her delightful little kisses with something more drawn out but still quite chaste.
But Islay doesn't seem to want the kiss to be chaste. Her arms slip around T'gar, and her lips remain on his long after he might have ended the kiss. "I'm glad you like it," she says, once she moves her mouth from his, and then dips her head to bury her face in the crook of his neck. She holds him thusly for what seems like a long time, then leans up to whisper in his ear. "I don't wanna just ... sleep b'side you t'night, T'gar," she says, and though there's a hint of hesitation in her voice, she doesn't take the words back. "I want t'know how that girl in th' book feels." There're many emotions mixed up in those words, but none of them seem to be fear.
T'gar is happy to oblige the extended kiss, of course, and he rumbles something between a groan and a chuckle when she buries her face against his neck. He lets himself be held by her, wrapping an arm around her carefully and stilling at her words. He's quiet for what seems longer than a moment, maybe trying to make sure he doesn't misunderstand her and ruin everything they've done together already. He clears his throat before he triest to speak, but it still comes out low, "What do you mean, exactly, little one?" He certainly knows what he's hoping she means and an eager tension sets across his shoulders.
Turning slightly shy, Islay leaves her face buried in his neck. "You said ..." She stops, uncertainty creeping into her tone, now. "Said mebbe we should be doing th' things Da thinks we are," she whispers. "That mebbe he should think I was yours." A moment of silence. "I ... been thinking ... that, too." He can probably feel the heat of her cheeks burning with a blush where they touch his skin. "An' that book ... th' girl seems t'feel so much when she's with that guy. I ... I just want t'know if it feels as good as she thinks it does. I want you t'show me what it's like t' really /be/ with someone..." The words trail off, and there's a tremble in her. "But only if that's what you want, T'gar."
His worries of misunderstanding fade as she explains and he barks a laugh at her last comment in particular before coughing it away apologetically. He certainly isn't trying to laugh at anything but himself and he assures her that's the case, "I can't think of anything I'd want more right now, gorgeous." He shifts himself against her to show just how much he can't think of anything else. "I haven't wanted anything so much in a long time," he murmurs, lifting his head away from where she's hiding against him. He smiles reassuringly at her when he can catch her eye because it's doubtful he wants to stop and ask if she's sure it's what she really wants.
The blush is still on her cheeks, and Islay finds it hard to meet T'gar's gaze, but finally her eyes lift. "I been thinking about it ever since you kissed me that first time," she admits. "I ain't been able t'think of much else, 'specially when you hold me close at night." The flame on the oil lamp flickers in the darkened cave, sending shadows looming. It finally gutters and goes out entirely, the fuel supply exhausted. Out on the ledge, Echeloth settles down and there's a long, lingering sigh from the brown dragon. Islay smiles, still with her arms wrapped around T'gar's neck. "I think I'd like you t'kiss me like that again," she whispers, "only this time, don't stop...?"
T'gar grins at her and doesn't even blink when the light of the oil lamp flickers and fades. "You should've said something sooner, woman," he tells her, "I've just been waiting for it to be your idea. I'll kiss you like that as much as you want." And he does, ducking his head to catch her lips with his.
Players: Islay, T'gar
Location: T'gar & Echeloth's Cave
Synopsis: Islay comes home to find T'gar's heard about the recent run-in she had with her father. There's a change in their relationship. WARNING: Mild invective and adult situations.
T'gar & 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.
It's been another typically rainy day, and most of the residents have sought shelter inside for the night. Islay is no exception, having ridden up just before dusk on Echeloth, as T'gar said she should instead of trying to climb the narrow path. Tonight she brings dinner with her; the usual fish, a few vegetables and some fruit. There's a skin of fresh water, as well, and another blanket she traded her bit of mirror for. The rain cools things off at night, after all. So, it's with her booty that Islay dismounts on the ledge, thanking Echeloth before she slips inside. The rain will come soon again, and she'd prefer being inside, since the clouds bode ill tonight. It's going to be a major storm, according to all the signs. A good night for sitting warm inside, yes.
T'gar is sitting in The Chair and flipping through the book Islay had borrowed from E'sere some time back. The cooler nights the rain has brought more and more often has him in an open fronted shirt with the sleeves rolled up, but his feet are still bare. The arrival of Echeloth and Islay make him put the book aside and get to his feet to help her carry what she's holding. He doesn't speak, though, like he usually does, no greetings or smiles.
Dinner is carefully carried inside, the crude wooden plate piled with food, wrapped in a towel -- a /real/ towel, another of her trades, no doubt. It's hot, and smells good. She lets him take the blanket and waterskin, and smiles -- until she sees T'gar's not smiling. Then her expression fades into wariness, and her steps toward the table slow considerably. "Evening," she says, hesitant, soft. "Brought dinner." Well, isn't that obvious. She finally reaches the table and sets down the plate after taking the towel from around it. The latter is carefully shaken out and folded. A towel will come in handy now that it's raining. "Something wrong?" she finally asks, moving over to find a clean shirt of her own, slipping it on against the chilly damp.
T'gar eyes the blanket briefly when she lets him take it and he carries it to his bed, their bed, dropping it there and turning to come back to the table with the waterskin. If he notices a change in her demeanor, he doesn't say anything about it and he settles himself back down in the chair. He picks a piece of fruit from the plate and finally turns to watch her. "Wrong? I don't know, Islay, why don't you tell me?" he returns, lifting a curious brow as he brings the fruit to his mouth.
Islay's brow creases as she picks up a piece of fish, then sets it back down. "Don't know what y'mean," she says softly. "Ain't nothing wrong with me. Just a li'l damp from getting rained on earlier." She doesn't look away, and, in fact, meets his gaze evenly, openly, head tilting slightly to the side as she regards him. "You want something t'eat? It's still warm." She again reaches for a bit of fish, breaking off a piece of the fillet and putting it in her mouth. "Brought fresh water, too -- oh, an' I traded m'mirror for th' blanket. Figured it's getting chilly at night, might come in handy." Now she looks a little sheepish. "I know I been stealing th' cover at night. Figured you might be getting cold, some."
"It looks like a nice blanket," he notes, finishing off the fruit and shaking his head when she offers him more. "So everything's alright?" his tone suggests he's giving her a chance to fess up, but he continues. "I heard that you and your da had a bit of an argument a little while ago. Want to tell me about that, maybe?" It's not so much a question as a suggestion, but with his voice as bland as it is, it might be hard to tell exactly.
"Oh." It's a small word, but carries so much meaning. Islay moistens her lips, then nods. She breaks off another piece of fish, eating, then picks up a bit of fruit. "Heard he was looking for me, so I made sure he found me down there by the cavern, an' ..." She shrugs. "Weren't much of an argument. He told me t'get back into th' cavern, an' I told him I wasn't gonna go back. He got bent, an' said some stuff." Another shrug. "He gave up an' that was that." That is the truth, only she left out a few of the nastier comments. "He ain't happy, but it don't matter none. I ain't going back down there."
T'gar lifts a hand to rub the frustration from his face. "I heard it was more than not much of an argument, but whatever you say," he says, leaving that part, at least, at that. "Some stuff?" he chuckles, but it's not exactly an amused sound. He's lived with the woman long enough to know she's just avoiding saying exactly what that stuff is. "I'm okay if you don't want to tell me things, Islay, but I will be very unhappy indeed if it gets you hurt." He doesn't say anything about it getting him hurt, but it would be safe to assume that wouldn't make him happy either.
"Ain't gonna get me hurt," Islay says, sighing. "He ain't gonna hurt me none." She bites her lower lip, however, and hesitates. "He thinks we're --" She doesn't say the word, not the one her father used, and lets the sentence just end. "He said you took what was his." She looks down and away, now. "I was gonna tell you, but you was sleeping when I come up that night. Then we were both busy, an' it's been nice here. I didn't wanna talk about him." She sighs again. "He knows what'll happen if'n he hurts someone. He ain't gonna risk no fight, but you be careful." She stops again. "I'm sorry. It weren't bad. He was just ... nasty t'me. Didn't touch me, none."
T'gar frowns at her words and seems to understand what she doesn't say. "It's okay," he finally says, standing up and gesturing for her to take the chair if she wishes. He goes to the bed and settles down on his back, hands behind his head and legs crossed at the ankles. "I'm a dragonrider, Islay. No one would dare do anything to me here." That may not be entirely true, but T'gar is arrogant when it comes to these sorts of things and Echeloth rumbles with some agreement to the rider's words.
Islay stands there for a few more seconds, then takes the plate and skin, and moves to the bed. She settles on it next to T'gar, crosslegged while she eats. He may not be hungry, but she is, and she doesn't hesitate to polish off a couple pieces of fish, licking her fingers clean before doing the same to a piece of fruit. A quick drink, and the food is set aside. Then, perhaps surprisingly, she turns and stretches out beside T'gar, head propped on one hand. Not close, but close enough that her free hand reaches out to touch his chest. "He knows th' rules," she says softly. "He ain't gonna risk Derek getting angry with him, an' he ain't gonna hurt me, neither. Not knowing I'm up here, now." The 'with you' isn't said, but it's implied. "But he's sneaky, T'gar. He ... accidents can happen. I don't want nothing happening t'you. I --" She withdraws her hand, looks down at the bed. "I don't want you being hurt 'cause of me."
"Don't worry about me, Islay," he tells her, avoiding his various pet names for her. "I can take care of myself probably better than you can. Besides, being hurt because of you is probably better than getting hurt because I'm doing something stupid," there, an attempt at humor of some kind. He can't be that put off if he's making poor attempts at jokes. "But if he's making threats," which she didn't exactly say, "Don't you think it's better I know that there might be something waiting in the dark instead of walking right into it?"
Islay has the grace to look ashamed. "Yes," she says simply. "You're right." She takes a breath, then goes on. "He said t'watch yer back, T'gar." She seems to curl in on herself, then, to lower her head and look just the slightest bit afraid. "He's mean, an' he knows he can't do nothing outright. He'll wait till you're alone, an' he'll ... I don't know what he'll do, but he's mad 'cause I'm up here with you." She closes her eyes, wrapping her arms around herself. "He thinks I'm ... that I'm doing things with you, which we ain't, but that don't make no nevermind t'him. I told him I weren't, but he ain't gonna b'lieve me." She's quiet a moment, then, "I been watching him. I wasn't gonna let him do nothing t'you."
T'gar chuckles a low sound, amused despite her apparent discomfort with it all. He pushes a hand through his hair before replacing it behind his head, then turns it to look at her. His gaze isn't quite as warm as it usually is, but it holds no ill will toward her. "Maybe we should be doing everything he thinks we're doing up here, hmm? Maybe he needs to think you're mine," this thought certainly seems to appeal to T'gar and if he thought it would work, he might press it, but he's a smart man. "And what exactly were you going to do to keep him from doing anything, Islay? Aren't you here because you didn't want to have to deal with him? Didn't want to be so vulnerable?" His voice takes on an angry edge, "I will deal with whatever -might- happen, Islay. I want you to stay out of it."
Islay continues to lay in that curled up, protective position for a long time. "I don't know," she finally admits. "I only know I weren't gonna let him hurt you," she whispers. "I'd ... I don't wanna be 'round him no more, no, but a'fore I'd let him hurt you, I'd --" She stops, burying her face in her hands. "You don't know him, T'gar. He ain't gonna come at you man t'man." Islay seems very clear on this. "I been keeping good watch, an' I wasn't gonna let him do nothing t'you nor me. Not no more. I ain't vulnerable no more. I ain't sleeping where he can find me easy, an' he ain't gonna come here 'cause of Echeloth." She lifts her head from her hands and they're slightly moist. "He called me ... names. I know they're bad. I r'member 'em from when he an' Mam used t'fight."
T'gar doesn't speak for a long while, either considering her words or trying not to say something to her that he might regret later. Echeloth rumbles and shifts himself around in response to whatever his rider is thinking, but beyond that, T'gar remains expressionless. When it seems like he's done talking about it altogether, he finally says, "Don't listen to anything he says, anything he calls you, Islay. He's a sharding fool of a man and he'll get what's coming to him sooner or later." T'gar doesn't make it sound like a personal threat, voice so plain and distanced from whatever it is he's really feeling. After another moment he leans up and over her, pushing her to try to get her to open up a little and look up at him. There's something dark in his eyes, but he smiles at her when he says, "Just stay safe, gorgeous."
Islay resists his touch for a moment, then her resolve seems to melt. Her body relaxes, unfolds and she moves until she's closer to him. "I won't," she says, and though the expression on her face is still a little uncertain, her eyes don't move from his face. "You ... you're good t'me, and you call me nice names. I don't want t'leave you, T'gar. I want t'be here with you." She searches his face with those huge, stormy-gray eyes, perhaps looking for some reassurance. "I ain't never felt like this with nobody a'fore. Ain't never wanted t'be with no one like I want t'be with you. It ain't wrong, feeling like that, is it?"
T'gar is patient, even if it's wearing thin tonight, and he waits for her to look up at him before he kisses her on the forehead and shakes his head. "There's nothing wrong with it unless you think there is, little one." His gaze softens a little. It's not really her fault he's in a foul mood and he wouldn't take it out on her even if it was. "How much do you want to be with me?" he asks, indulging himself the question with an increasingly relaxed smile as he kisses her nose and then her chin.
Islay swallows as the kisses fall on her nose and chin, half-closing her eyes. His is a question she has weighed against many things, trying to be logical and sane about her answer. "I think about when I'm lying here t'gether with you," she says softly, "an' it makes me shivery in m'stomach. I don't want t'be no where else, with nobody else. I ain't felt like that a'fore." She half-closes her eyes when the kisses fall on her nose and chin. "When you ain't around, I see you in m'head." Islay reaches out, her hand resting on his chest, fingers splayed over the skin. "I think about kissing you, an' it makes me shiver." Perhaps that's not quite the answer to his question, but it's the closest she can come. "I read that book, an' it's you an' me, not them people I see in m'head." A brief pause, then, "An' I don't think it's wrong t'feel that way. As long as you want me t'be here with you, I'll be here." A beat. "With you."
T'gar smiles as she speaks and it seems to be exactly what he wants to hear or near enough that it doesn't really matter. "I'm a lucky man indeed, hmm? I can't wait to see you again whenever we're apart, little one, and I hate to leave you on your own. I like you right here with me. If anything ever happened to you... If anyone hurt you, I'd make them regret it." He pauses briefly, searching her eyes and moving his hand to rest over her's on his chest.
Islay's eyes search T'gar's face for a long time, and then she leans up to brush her lips over his. It's a hesitant touch; she hasn't kissed often enough to know all the nuances of the activity, yet, but she's learning. "I watch th' drills t'see if I can see you an' Echeloth," she tells him, her voice soft, whispery. "An' I can't wait t'be up here at night, t'see you. I like it when you hold me, an' tell me ain't nobody gonna hurt me ever again." Another brush of her lips. "I see shells an' things on th' beach, an' I wonder if they'd make you smile." She moves away slightly, digging into her pocket, pulling out something on a piece of braided vine. "I made this while I was fishing." It's merely a shell on the vine, but it's pretty. "Thought you might like it." It's held out tentatively in her palm.
Something about him seems proud of her and his smile echoes the feeling well enough as he gazes at her. He eyes the shell and the braided vine it's on curiously when he takes it from her, nodding. "It's very nice, little one." He slips it over his head and lifts the shell up again to look at it. "I love it," he decides with a playful smile and returns one of her delightful little kisses with something more drawn out but still quite chaste.
But Islay doesn't seem to want the kiss to be chaste. Her arms slip around T'gar, and her lips remain on his long after he might have ended the kiss. "I'm glad you like it," she says, once she moves her mouth from his, and then dips her head to bury her face in the crook of his neck. She holds him thusly for what seems like a long time, then leans up to whisper in his ear. "I don't wanna just ... sleep b'side you t'night, T'gar," she says, and though there's a hint of hesitation in her voice, she doesn't take the words back. "I want t'know how that girl in th' book feels." There're many emotions mixed up in those words, but none of them seem to be fear.
T'gar is happy to oblige the extended kiss, of course, and he rumbles something between a groan and a chuckle when she buries her face against his neck. He lets himself be held by her, wrapping an arm around her carefully and stilling at her words. He's quiet for what seems longer than a moment, maybe trying to make sure he doesn't misunderstand her and ruin everything they've done together already. He clears his throat before he triest to speak, but it still comes out low, "What do you mean, exactly, little one?" He certainly knows what he's hoping she means and an eager tension sets across his shoulders.
Turning slightly shy, Islay leaves her face buried in his neck. "You said ..." She stops, uncertainty creeping into her tone, now. "Said mebbe we should be doing th' things Da thinks we are," she whispers. "That mebbe he should think I was yours." A moment of silence. "I ... been thinking ... that, too." He can probably feel the heat of her cheeks burning with a blush where they touch his skin. "An' that book ... th' girl seems t'feel so much when she's with that guy. I ... I just want t'know if it feels as good as she thinks it does. I want you t'show me what it's like t' really /be/ with someone..." The words trail off, and there's a tremble in her. "But only if that's what you want, T'gar."
His worries of misunderstanding fade as she explains and he barks a laugh at her last comment in particular before coughing it away apologetically. He certainly isn't trying to laugh at anything but himself and he assures her that's the case, "I can't think of anything I'd want more right now, gorgeous." He shifts himself against her to show just how much he can't think of anything else. "I haven't wanted anything so much in a long time," he murmurs, lifting his head away from where she's hiding against him. He smiles reassuringly at her when he can catch her eye because it's doubtful he wants to stop and ask if she's sure it's what she really wants.
The blush is still on her cheeks, and Islay finds it hard to meet T'gar's gaze, but finally her eyes lift. "I been thinking about it ever since you kissed me that first time," she admits. "I ain't been able t'think of much else, 'specially when you hold me close at night." The flame on the oil lamp flickers in the darkened cave, sending shadows looming. It finally gutters and goes out entirely, the fuel supply exhausted. Out on the ledge, Echeloth settles down and there's a long, lingering sigh from the brown dragon. Islay smiles, still with her arms wrapped around T'gar's neck. "I think I'd like you t'kiss me like that again," she whispers, "only this time, don't stop...?"
T'gar grins at her and doesn't even blink when the light of the oil lamp flickers and fades. "You should've said something sooner, woman," he tells her, "I've just been waiting for it to be your idea. I'll kiss you like that as much as you want." And he does, ducking his head to catch her lips with his.