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It comes as little surprise that Beau finds Yasha out of bed at night. She can taste the distant crackle in the air as soon as she sits up, even safe from the elements in their inn. Her gloves hum against her palm like they're reacting to the impending storm.
She haphazards a guess, looking towards the horizon for where the lightning illuminated the sea and makes her way down to the beach. Her ears catch gentle pluckings, familiar to her ears, and she lets her hearing do the leading. Usually, she's content with watching from afar when Yasha plays but this time she walks up to the silent barbarian and sits down beside her in the damp sand. Yasha startles a little, having been solely concentrated on her music, and the rolling clouds fast tumbling towards the coast.
"I didn't hear you coming." It's silly the second the sentence comes out of her mouth and Yasha fumbles to recover. "Not that I would expect to hear you, Beau."
"I didn't mean to interrupt, I was just checking to make sure you were ok." Beau faces the sea and doesn't look at Yasha even though Yasha turns to look at her.
"I didn't mean to wake you. It's just that..." She trails off as another jolt of lightning streaks across the navy sky.
"You know, I can speak any language in the world," Beau laughs. "But I still struggle to know what you're saying." Yasha blushes and puts her harp away. She's not going to get any practice with Beau sitting next to her. Not that she particularly minds.
"Sorry. I just..." She inhales the sea air. She can feel her hair stand on end with tension and static. "I like a good storm."
"Yeah I feel ya," Beau leans back on her arms. In the distance, whenever another bolt dashes across the sky, she can see the hazy wall of rain pouring down over the water. "Any more visions from the Stormlord? Any new tests?" Yasha tucks her hair behind an ear.
"No, it's been surprisingly quiet. I suppose whatever path I chose, it's enough for him right now."
"You said a while ago, that the Stormlord saved you when you left your tribe. Did he ever try to contact you before?" Yasha furrows her brow and fidgets with a strap on her knee.
"No. No, it wasn't until I left. I'd only heard bits about other gods in our tribe. It was forbidden to talk about matters from the outside world. I only heard the name through Zuala." The silence cuts through her sentence abruptly as soon as the name escapes her lips. Beau finally turns to look at her face, and her heart sinks in anticipation. She expects it to be the last they'll speak of the night. Yasha's continuance surprises her.
"She would tell me stories."
"They say that the Stormlord is present in every thunderstorm and that a storm before a battle is a good omen," Zuala says as she weaves flowers into Yasha's long hair. Yashas grins.
"Doesn't sound like a good omen to me. Slick battlefields mean more mistakes. I prefer my ground dry and solid." Zuala bats Yasha's shoulder hard enough that it shakes a few flowers out of her hair. "Ow!"
"It's just a story, Yasha, don't be so serious."
"And what, should I be more like you?" Yasha asks. "Weaving flowers into a warrior's hair. Do you expect my opponent to take the time to admire them? To lean in and smell them and let me know how pretty they look?"
"Yet you still stand here," Zuala points out before plucking another white flower from the ground around them.
"I stand here because you make me." Yasha crosses her arms with a huff. Zuala bursts into bright laughter that makes the tall barbarian feel like the Storm baron, or whatever his name was, had struck her directly.
"You mean to tell me, that Orphan Maker Yasha Nydoorin, is being made to stand here with daisies in her hair because I decreed it? Perhaps your opponents should conscript me to fight you. I would simply tell you to lay down your arms." Yasha whirls on her.
"That's not funny."
"What's not funny?" Zuala reaches out and brushes Yasha's hair out of her face. The touch sets fire to Yasha's skin, and she instinctively reaches out and holds Zuala's hand against her face.
"The thought of fighting you." Zuala blinks at Yasha's sincerity. Yasha is all too aware of Zuala's thumb brushing her cheek in soft strokes and immediately lets her hand fall.
"I won't be fighting anyone. I'm a hunter." Zuala shoulders her bow and the rabbit they'd downed well over a half an hour ago.
"We should get back before they send a hunting party for us," Yasha says, turning her head to hide the blush creeping under her war paint.
"One more thing," Zuala interrupts, turning Yasha around again.
"No more flowers, I'm starting to look like a funer-" Zuala stands on her toes and kisses Yasha softly, then deeply as she finds her balance. Yasha melts into the kiss and the forest around them vanishes as if they'd been banished into a void that just contained the two of them. What seems like both a millisecond and a lifetime passes before they break apart. Their eyes flutter open, hardly daring to see the expression on the other's face for fear of rejection.
"Zuala..."
"Honestly, if I hadn't done anything this would have gone on forever," Zuala mutters breathlessly.
"Can it still?" Yasha leans down and hooks her arms under Zuala's legs, lifting her effortlessly into another kiss.
Yasha smiles into the sand at the memory, closing her eyes and remembering how warm the sun was on their exposed skin. When she opens them, it's the cool mist of the approaching rain and the darkness that greets her. And, as she turns to look, the deep gaze of Beauregard.
"You miss her." It's a statement, not a question, and one that Yasha agrees with.
"Yes." Beau breathes deep, trying to absorb that statement along with a pang of regret. "But, even though I think I will always miss her, I don't think it hurts as much these days. I will always treasure her memory, but more and more, I'm starting to accept that is what she is..."
"A memory," Beau echoes.
"Yes." This time light flashes close enough that Beau and Yasha can feel the might of the lightning. Thunder follows closely, rumbling them to the core. Thick drops begin pelting the sand, leaving dark bruises along the beach that soon meld into one.
"We should get back before we catch a cold." Beau stands and Yasha stands with her. She can hear Zuala's voice in her ears, a distant ringing from memory.
This would have gone on forever.
"Beau, I..." Her voice fails her, and she can see Beau puzzling over her meaning. Beau may be able to understand all languages, but it means nothing if Yasha can't string two words together. Instead, she takes a half step towards Beau. Her foot sinks into the sand causing her to stumble a little but she still makes it to her. She reaches out as if looking to steady herself, but instead cups the sides of Beau's face and leans down. Lightning flashes when their lips meet, like the electricity of their kiss caused the brilliant flash to happen. Beau returns the kiss greedily, grabbing Yasha's hips and pulling her close until their bodies are flush against one another. They kiss until they're breathless, and then a little bit more so that when they break apart, the rush of air makes them both light-headed.
"That's what I wanted to say," Yasha whispers. "I just couldn't put it in words."
"Message received," Beau jokes, mimicking Yasha's tone when Veth had messaged them the day Yasha took them on their first flight. Yasha smiles sheepishly.
"I feel the same way and it's hard for me to say it, and I'm pretty good with words, you know?" Beau still hasn't let go of Yasha's hips and Yasha's content with that. The sky opens, and the rest of the rain pours on them. "We should get back before we do catch a cold though. Well, you, I'm immune." Yasha smiles and she lets go of Beau. "Wait." Beau leans up and kisses her again, and it teeters on the edge of turning into more before Beau pulls back.
"Ok, I'm good, for now." Yasha grabs Beau's hand and the two of them sneak back into the inn. They stand quietly in the room, trying not to wake Jester while staring at their beds on opposite sides of the room. Beau's eyes dart back from Yasha's bed, to her bed, back and forth in the dark. She can tell Beau wants to invite her in, but with Jester sleeping in there too, well, that's the source of Beau's conflict.
"I want to," Yasha says without prompt. "But, maybe when we have a little more privacy."
"Ok." Disappointment soaks in Beau's voice, but she reluctantly gives Yasha's hand a little squeeze and walks over to her bed.
"Good night," Yasha whispers as loud as she could, before curling up under her sheets.
"Night, Yasha."
She dreams. She dreams of storms on the horizon, and over her head. She dreams of Zuala, and the comfort of knowing her body, and her place in her life. She dreams of Beau, and knowing there will be a tomorrow.