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Travelling with the Tombtakers is worse than unpleasant. It is unnerving and stressful. It is apprehension, anxiety, and anger all rolled into one. The group of them are so painfully unlikable that you think it’s a miracle they’ve stayed together as a crew for so long. Maybe it’s their equal awfulness that draws them to each other. Maybe it’s the Nonagon hive-mind that keeps them in line. You don’t really know, and you suppose you don’t care. All you know is that every single day you wish you could sweep your friends as far away from them as possible.
The truth is, though, that that isn’t even the worse thing about them. It isn’t the mistrust or the arrogance. It isn’t even the sneaking suspicion that they may in fact be a challenge that you and your friends aren’t ready to handle. No, the worst part about travelling with the Tombtakers is that not a moment goes by when you don’t see him: your old friend. You see him in nearly everything Lucien does, but also in everything that Lucien isn’t. The way he struts as he walks is so painfully Molly, but the words that come out of his mouth are so painfully not. The cruel kind of havoc that it wreaks on your emotions is a burden you begin to feel with every waking step.
On that first day, he turns and grins at you when he catches you staring at the back of his head. You wonder if it was the eye tattoo that alerted him to your watching, or maybe he really is just that perceptive. You feel his gaze on you like oil meeting water; it slides and it sticks without sinking past your skin. You’re grateful for that. The thought of him beyond your walls is enough to have you reaching for the hilt of your sword. You settle for clenching your fists instead.
You had wanted to find your friend. You had hoped, maybe, that it was a doable feat. But with every hour that you are forced to spend in Lucien’s company, your hopes for Mollymauk Tealeaf wither away.
You aren’t the only one who sees this, and you think maybe it is Jester who feels it as terribly as you. At least, she shows it openly, throwing sad, resigned looks at him when he says something particularly detestable. The rest of your friends, you’re sure, feel it too, but maybe they had better tempered their expectations. Maybe they had already grown accustomed to the idea of Molly as beyond saving.
You wouldn’t blame them. It would make things easier if you would accept that he is truly dead. His body survived, but his spirit is gone. You wish you could come to terms with that, but one morning you catch him whispering conspiratorially to Cree. The smirk on his lips, the hush of his voice; they remind you of a time when he might’ve stood whispering like that to you, before some hair-brained plot to impersonate a government official. He had always known the best ways to get into trouble. Your heart breaks over the trouble he’s so keen to find now.
So yes, travelling with the Tombtakers is tense and exhausting. Where once you had grown used to the sound of laughter and easy conversation, now your days are marred by dodgy questions and foggy answers. Your friends speak to the Tombtakers as though every word is a hostage negotiation. You suppose it very well might be. One wrong word, one false step, and you don’t doubt that you will find yourselves fighting for your lives. It may come to that anyway, given what all is at stake.
And so you decide, easily enough, that the Tombtakers are unquestionably awful people. Sure, you and your friends are far from perfect, but there is a certain delight Lucien’s crew takes in wanton malevolence that sets your teeth on edge. You grind them whenever you hear Lucien speak and you don’t think your jaw has ever been so sore in your life.
The first day with them had passed uneventfully, but as night fell there had come another inconvenience of this arrangement: Caleb’s tower is no longer an option. The Tombtakers watch your friends like hawks, and the Mighty Nein return their stares in kind. Neither group is about to let the other out of their sight, and the thought of inviting them into the tower, into your home, is distasteful, to say the least. So no, the tower is not an option, and if Lucien and his belligerence were not enough to wear you down, having to cancel your date with Beau certainly is.
She scoots over to you that first night when the camps are settled. The air around you is tense. You feel stretched thin; pulled taut like an animal skin over the frame of a drum. You wonder, if someone tapped you, would you be as equally hollow?
You volunteered to take first watch, and despite the dome up around you, you feel horribly exposed. The Tombtakers’ camp isn’t far. In fact, it’s practically next door. A short distance away, the dying light of their fire feels like a beacon. You hate that they insisted upon camping so close. Their proximity is suffocating; it chafes at what little patience you have left.
And to think, it’s only been a day.
That’s where you are when Beau joins you. It is quiet with everyone else getting their rest. The Tombtakers look to be doing the same, although the fact that it is Lucien who takes their first watch is not lost on you. He doesn’t even deign you with an offhanded glance. Instead, he stares at the stars and appears as though he couldn’t care less if the world burned down around him. If it meant he would suffer, you almost hope that it might.
“Hey.”
Beau’s voice pulls you out of your miserable trance. She is soft and trepidatious like she’s worried about bothering you. You wonder whether you’ve been grimacing this entire time. You try to remember the last time your lips pulled into a smile. It’s only been a day with Lucien and already your heart feels tied down by rocks.
“Hey,” you whisper back, and you turn to look at her.
Beau is perhaps the one thing that breaks through the shroud of Lucien’s presence. Whether it is his haughty attitude or your memories of Molly, or the uncomfortable thoughts about where this journey might lead, Beau is the one who can strip that weight off your shoulders. It’s not in your nature to be selfish but you find yourself increasingly greedy for just a speck of her time.
She has nudged her way over to you, her body so close you could lean over and brush your shoulders together. You sit with your arms hooked around your knees. She mimics your pose and casts a glance at you with sombre eyes like she is about to deliver bad news. You would tense up at the possibility if you weren’t so rigid already.
“So, I guess our date isn’t happening exactly as planned.”
Her voice is low and lamenting, and she only holds your gaze for a moment before she turns her eyes forward. You both look out the translucent wall of the dome and towards the Tombtakers’ camp. The fire has died out but the rising moons cast their light on the open tundra around you. You can see the outline of Lucien still staring up at the sky.
You aren’t sure how to respond to Beau’s statement. With her, you find yourself stumbling over your words at the best of times and making an absolute fool of yourself at the worst. Still, you should say something.
“No, it isn’t,” you murmur in agreement. Your voice sounds dull to your own ears, as though this one day has ground away all of your edges, leaving you shapeless and yielding to the force of the tide.
Silence passes for a few moments and you begin to worry you’ve upset her. You have a habit of appearing gruff when in reality you are just weary, and you're already wound so tight that one wrong move could make you snap. Maybe your words were harsh and you should apologize for your manners.
Before you can, you feel Beau lean her head on your shoulder. The movement is unexpected and you find yourself nervous already. Your breath catches in your throat and your heart leaps in your chest. It’s not a voluntary response, but it’s not all that bad. It’s a bit thrilling, really, to feel the depth of your emotions. They are good emotions, after all; ones that leave you smiling and happy. And it’s refreshing after the strife that has plagued you all day. Already, you feel your spirits clawing out of the tar pit they’d been stuck in. With Beau’s help, they may just make it to shore.
“It won’t be what I planned,” she says suddenly, her voice soft near your ear, “but I’ll find something for us to do.” There is a determination in her tone like she’s solving a problem, and it comforts you like nothing has been able to all day.
Still, even as butterflies stir in your gut and a smile threatens to tug at your lips, you find yourself beginning to protest. “You don’t have to-”
“Please. As if I’m going to let Lucien-” and you do smile, you have to, at the way she sing-songs his voice with tangible discontent, “-ruin our first date.”
First date. The words echo in your mind like a bell announcing ships to harbour in a storm. Your anchor, safe haven, and shelter from the wind; Beau would have the ability to make you feel safe in a cyclone.
“Okay,” you breathe out, the word leaving you like a promise. Your voice is shaking, it’s giddy, and you like the sound of it much better than before. You smile, and you can’t see it, but you think she smiles too. Before you slip back into silence, you ask her, “What had you planned for us tonight?”
You want to linger on the meaning of the word ‘us’ for a moment; want to bask in the way it means you and Beau together. You’ll have to bask later, though, as Beau reacts to your question. She pulls her head off your shoulder and you miss it immediately. You look at her and she’s blushing and you wonder if you are as well. You do feel warmer. You don’t think it’s the dome.
“Oh, well, I, uh-” she stops and rubs her hand along the back of her neck, “I had this idea for- for in the tower, you know? ‘Cause Caleb said I could change it, and...”
Then some idea occurs to her. She trails off and looks up at you, and a new look comes into her eyes. One of mischief.
“-Actually,” she continues, and she’s suddenly far less nervous than before. “I, uh, don’t think I should tell you.” She shrugs. “Would be a good second date idea, if we get there, you know? So I think I’ll just... keep it to myself.”
Your jaw drops a little as she finishes her sentence. The next words leave your mouth in a mixture of amusement and scandal. “You’re really just going to leave me with that? You were about to tell me!”
She smirks and shakes her head. “Like I said, it'd be a good idea for later.”
The way she’s teasing you tickles at the back of your mind. It’s new but familiar, and you think you know why. This is a remnant of the way she would flirt with you before. Before Obann and the Cathedral and the truth of your past. You had never minded the attention she had shown you in those days, but now it comes with a more sincere kind of affection. Now she flirts with you even as you both know how you feel about each other. That, and she knows you will like it. How could you not, with the way your heart races in your chest?
Since you can’t convince her to tell you, you shake your head and go back to watching. She settles next to you again and you both fall into silence. It is natural and pleasant, and you feel incredibly lighter. Beau’s presence is a lifeboat in an unforgiving sea.
Still, first watch was not supposed to be Beau’s to take, and while she tries admirably to stay up with you, she drifts off soon enough. Her head lolls against her forearms as she sits next to you. You resist the urge to pull her over so that she can sleep on your shoulder. You don’t want to push your luck, regardless of how you both feel about each other.
Your watch ends uneventfully a short while later, and you wake Caduceus softly so he can take your place. He comes awake easily; unruffled, as though he is only ever a moment away from rising. You envy him a little. You are always submerged in dreams long into the morning.
He rises and gives you a nod before you find a place to rest. If it happens to be in the space closest to Beau, it is only because the others have left you no other choice. Space is tight in the dome, you take what you can get. You tell yourself this as you lay down beside her. If she rolls over in the night, she’ll practically be in your arms.
You roll away from her only so that you don’t tempt fate any further. You are taking things slow and doing things right, and honestly, you aren’t sure at what speed the two of you should travel. It seems safest to let things play out in daylight.
It’s as you’re beginning to drift off that the thought finally hits you. A second date, if we get there. You had hardly noticed before. Now, the words settle over your heart like a thick winter coat, warming you from the inside as sleep tugs at your mind. You meet the darkness of it with a smile on your lips.
Thus passes the first day of your journey with Lucien. It ended far better than it started, you aren’t afraid to admit.
Morning is harsh in the way it reminds you of your burdens. Each day, your friends rise with their guard pulled tight around them, and each time you are forced to remember all at once just who you are travelling with.
Two more days pass before Beau presents her solution for your date. She trails behind the group as they are walking so she can hover at your side. You find it exciting, this secrecy. Not that your friends would bemoan your fledgling romance, but with everyone so tense, it hardly seems like the time to tell them.
Besides, you haven’t even had your first date yet. If it is as awkward as you are increasingly worried it might be, you’ll be glad that you didn’t tell them anything at all. So it can go back to normal, as you and Beau had said to each other. You work together, after all, and you don’t want to make things uncomfortable.
It’s funny. You have slain fiends, faced devils, and battled demons, including your own, but the idea of this date makes you feel a kind of nervousness like none other. You want it to be perfect. You want desperately for it to work.
So when Beau slows down to walk next to you, your heart climbs into your throat. Your tongue may as well be a knotted rope for all the good it's doing you; you can’t even get a word of welcome past your lips. Luckily, she speaks first, thus saving you the embarrassment of having to try.
“So, I have an idea for our...,” she looks at the others walking ahead of you. Her eyes linger on Caduceus in particular. “-For our you know what,” she whispers.
Your lips pull into a smile before she’s even finished speaking. Your belly grows warm at the mention of your date and you duck your head in an attempt to hide the blush creeping along your cheeks.
“Yeah?” you ask her, and your voice is so eager you nearly wince. But why bother? You are eager, and what’s the harm in letting it show? “What’s your plan?”
“When we make camp, let me scope out the area a bit and then I’ll show you.”
She is so resolute and earnest that you can’t imagine how you could argue. You nod. “Okay. I’m... looking forward to it.”
She beams at you with a smile that could outshine the sun, and despite the company of the Tombtakers, you think that this day is shaping up to be one of the best in Eiselcross so far.
When the sun begins to set, Lucien calls for a halt. The night’s camp is struck along a snow-covered ridge. Lucien picks the location, as he does every evening, and your friends don’t bother to argue because what is the point? This is the bed the Mighty Nein have made, and now you are all expected to be good and lie in it.
As you settle, you hear chatter within the two groups, but not between them. Fjord and Jester huddle together around a fire. Caleb and Veth speak to each other in hushed tones. Caduceus closes his eyes and meditates. When you glance his way, you could swear you see a faint wind rustling his pink hair.
The sky has grown dark when Beau comes to find you, her cheeks flushed from the cold. It’s not incredibly late but nightfall comes early this far north, and you’re grateful for the pale light of the snow that serves to keep the worst of the darkness at bay.
Not for the first time, you let your eyes linger over the parts of Beau that lay exposed to the elements. Her neck, the muscles of her stomach, and the ridges of her collarbones; they all beg for your attention. Part of you is worried that she’s going to freeze up here in Eiselcross. Another part of you, well... that part doesn’t mind the exposed skin as much. You feel your face growing hot at the direction of your thoughts and you’re already sweating when she greets you with a shy smile.
“I’m ready. Are you...?”
There’s a trepidation in her tone that actually settles your nerves a little. You smile warmly at her and nod, although you have to fight not to do it too eagerly.
“Yes,” you tell her, and it comes out more breathless than you’d thought it would.
“Good,” she replies, and you can hear her eagerness too.
You could almost laugh at the way you two dance around each other like inexperienced teenagers. Instead, you wave your hand vaguely in her direction. “After you.”
She smiles, turns, and begins to lead you away from the camp.
The walk isn’t long, just far enough across the snowy ridge to leave the camps behind and have a semblance of privacy. The wind that had battered you during the day’s travel has died down to nothing more than a slight breeze. The sky above you is cloudless and the stars are beginning to come out. The moons have begun to rise, their crescents low on the horizon. You think it might be the perfect night for a date.
Beau walks ahead of you, trudging through the snow. You think about hurrying to keep pace with her, but you don’t get the chance to. She has already found her destination, and she slows a little as she arrives at an outcropping of jagged rock. The ridge ends in front of her like the lip of a cliff, although you can see that the drop itself isn’t far. But that isn’t what stops you in your tracks.
What makes you falter and stare, awestruck, is the view that she’s led you to. Ahead of you, the ridge drops away until it meets a gentle, snow-covered slope. The slope runs lazily into a valley below. And there, far beyond the ridge, lies a wide, frozen lake, its surface serrated by ice. On either side of it you can see the rising peaks of snow-capped mountains. They hug the shores of the lake like towering guardians. The moons cast a soft glow across the landscape, drawing your eyes to the water as their light dances along its surface. Above you, the stars are clearer than you’ve ever seen them in your life.
You think your jaw might have fully detached from your body. It takes a considerable effort to pull your gaze away.
“Beau...” you begin, but how to even convey what you’re feeling? The sight is incredible. You tell her as much. “-This is beautiful. How did you...?”
“Me?” Beau shakes her head and chuckles a bit. “I just got lucky that we found this spot. I guess ol’ Lucien’s good for something after all, huh?
You walk forward until you are next to her, on the very edge of the ridge. For a few moments, you simply cannot pull your eyes away from the view. When you do, you turn to Beau. You are as tongue-tied as you’ve ever been. She’s looking at you with such an open look of hope, and you scarcely know how to tell her how much this means to you.
“This is a very good date," you say earnestly, settling for easy rather than intense, and she reaches up to grab your arm as she shakes her head rather emphatically.
“Oh no, this isn’t even- it hasn’t even started yet.”
“What?” You honestly aren’t sure if your fluttering heart can take it. She is sweeping you off your feet. You feel like a character in one of Jester’s smutty books. And, well, that thought makes a whole other kind of tension begin to coil inside of you. If you weren’t blushing before, you certainly are now.
“Yeah, I mean, I wasn’t just gonna show you like, a lake or some shit.” Beau says it as if the lake isn’t one of the most incredible things you’ve seen since arriving in the north. “-I have other stuff too.”
In that moment, you fully appreciate what it means to be ‘wooed’. Beau is wooing you, and you feel your heart swelling with the gift of it.
“Okay,” you breathe out, and you let her take the lead. “What do you want me to do?”
She gets a twinkle in her eye that you know means she’s carrying out a plan, and it’s flattering to see her put the same care into your date that she puts into her work. She leads you over to a small boulder on the ridge. You see there is another close by, and you understand you’re meant to sit down. You do, and you look up at her, and the breath leaves your lungs.
There is something about being below her that leaves you struggling for air. Beau is beautiful and powerful and a complete force of nature. She demands your attention and you give it gladly. You know that you’re sitting but it’s as if you’ve fallen to your knees. She may not be a goddess but as you tilt your head up to her, you think she might have your devotion.
You shake your head a bit to clear your mind, and if she notices, she says nothing about it. She’s wringing her hands with a nervous energy, glancing between you and the ground. When she opens her mouth to speak, she only stammers a little before getting the words out.
“So I, uh, don’t usually do the whole ‘romance’ thing, but I think you- you’re a woman who deserves those kinds of gestures-”
You’ve seen her nervous, but this is different, and you can’t help the way it sends warmth throughout your chest.
She continues, “-So, uh, I know it’s not like the most romantic thing in the world, but I wanted to- to- I don’t know why I’m saying all this. I’m just gonna show you.”
You watch as she reaches for an inner pocket of her cloak. Gently, she pulls out a small bouquet of flowers. She extends her hand to you, and you take the bouquet in both of yours. You would smile but your mouth is frozen in the small shape of an ‘O’. You recover, bring the flowers to your nose, and inhale deeply. They smell wonderful; freshly-picked and fragrant. You hold them to your face as you glance up at her again.
“They’re real,” she blurts, her nerves getting the better of her. She stays standing above you, a portrait of anticipation. “-Sort of. I tried finding some out here but there wasn’t much to work with, and so I asked Jester if she would paint some with that magic paint of hers. It took a few tries, you know, cause the magic is so weird here, but she got a few to work-”
She’s rambling and it’s adorable. You lower the bouquet and take a closer look at them. Each flower is unique, from the patterns of their petals to the shape of their stems. There is only a handful, but they are beautiful. It is easy to believe they were created by Jester’s hand. They’re expertly crafted, and the anthers on one look suspiciously phallic.
“Beau, they’re lovely.” You look up to see that she’s paused herself mid-ramble.
“Yeah?” she asks, a nervous lilt to her voice.
“Yes,” you tell her easily because it’s the truth.
“Oh, thank god.”
Beau sits down in a heap, as though the effort of giving flowers has exhausted her. You hide an amused smirk behind the bouquet before lowering it into your lap. She’s sitting on the other boulder nearby. You are side by side, the pair of you staring out at the frozen wildlands around you. For last-minute preparation, the evening has turned out quite well.
“This is a very good date,” you tell her again, adding the emphasis to let her know that she’s really impressed you.
Beside you, she taps her knees with an anxious energy that has your lips pulling into a grin. Your nerves show in stammered words and awkward conversations. Beau’s nerves show in restless gestures and a tendency to ramble. It’s endearing, and you hope she finds your habits as equally charming.
“It’s not quite done yet,” she says as she glances your way.
Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are bright. She reaches into her cloak again and pulls out a flask. “It's not magic like Veth’s, but it's functional. Alcohol was also a part of the tower plan.”
You chuckle softly as you take the flask in your hand. “We seem to be making a habit of this,” you tease.
“I know right-” she pauses for a second before frowning slightly. “I don’t need to drink to get through this date, just so you know. I was just thinking it might- it would- you know, uh-”
You save her by placing your hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Beau. I wasn’t worried about that at all.”
She lets out a sigh of relief and you can’t help but find it endearing. You take a sip from the flask in the moment of silence; it is a strong, fiery liquid that settles deep in your stomach. It's a fitting choice to match the embers that burn in your heart. Beau speaks up again.
“So, uh, one more thing. I guess Cad overheard our talk the other day in the ruin. When I, uh, asked you out. I didn’t say anything to him about it, but this morning he offered to, uh, help, I guess?”
“Oh?” You have no idea what kind of help Caduceus might’ve offered. You already know he prefers being a spectator rather than dipping his own toes into romance.
You take another sip from the flask and pass it back to Beau as you wait for her to elaborate. She nods as though she had the same thought as you.
“Right? Anyway, he was super cryptic about it. He just said ‘I have an idea, let me see what I can do’.”
You shrug good-naturedly, unbothered by the mystery. “I’m up for anything as long as I’m with you.”
The words tumble from your lips before you can think to stop them. They sound horribly cheesy to your ears. You are already preparing to wince as you feel Beau turn to look at you. Feeling a growing embarrassment, you chance a glance in her direction.
She stares at you like you’ve put the stars in the sky. She seems to realize that her emotions are quite on display because she shakes her head a bit and chuckles in that awkward way she does when she isn’t sure what to say next.
There's a beat of silence in which you wonder if you might've said a bit too much. You meant it, and she liked it, but this is all still so new. Then, before either of you can attempt to start up a real conversation, a faint glimmer of light catches the corner of your eye. You turn to look back out at the landscape in front of you. For yet another time this evening, you feel yourself gasp.
A bright green aurora has lit up the sky. It dances above you like a river of light, winding its way through the heavens against a backdrop of stars. One stream turns to two, turns to three, and they are dancing; they curve across the sky with all the majesty of dragons. No, more than that; they are the veins of the gods. You’ve never seen an aurora in your life, only heard legends, and in this moment you are inclined to believe every single one of them.
As it shimmers across the sky, some of its light reflects across the lake. The mirror image is not quite a perfect rendition, but the surface of the lake shines faintly green down the valley. If you squinted, you could almost believe it was a field of grass, an oasis amongst the frozen terrain.
Beau, it seems, is equally affected beside you. She stares, mouth hanging open, at the weaving patterns in the sky. Neither of you seems to be able to speak. She's completely forgotten about the flask that she holds in her hand. You both watch the light show in stupefied silence until it begins to fade out several minutes later. Short-lived but incredible, and you know you’ll never forget the sight of it.
When you are both able to speak, you start at the same time.
“That was...,” Beau murmurs.
“Do you think..,” you start.
She looks over to you, a look of pure wonder painting her face. “You think... Caduceus?”
You’re still nearly speechless and your words come to you slowly. “I mean... can he? Is that... something he can do?”
“I honestly have no idea,” Beau replies, looking back out to the lake. “If it was him though... I owe him so much.”
You would laugh if you weren’t still reeling from the display of the aurora. The sight of it touched something deep in your soul. And to share it with Beau, after everything you two have been through... it makes you want to do something for her, only you aren’t quite sure how.
You turn to look at her, sitting next to you, and your heart is on fire. It roars and it swells and it demands that you act. But you have nothing to give her, and this is only your first date. You aren’t sure of the rules because you’re a bit out of practice. After a few moments, though, it’s clear that you can’t hold out any longer. The evening has been beyond perfect, and you want her to know.
She is still staring forwards, across the landscape. You lean towards her and do something you’ve thought about for weeks. You press your lips to her cheek softly. Really, you’ve hardly touched her, but the pressure is there, and the butterflies in your belly flutter with excitement. You think that, if you aren’t careful, your heart will ignite like a firestorm.
It only lasts a second before Beau’s reflexes kick in. She pulls away from you slightly; not harshly, but with an air of surprise. She turns towards you, and maybe you didn’t quite think this through. She’s so close to you that the fog of your breath would mingle, if you were breathing, but the air has lodged itself in your throat and you can’t make it move. Your eyes trail downwards involuntarily and land on her lips.
“I... uh-,” you stammer with no destination. The words are simply floating in the space between her mouth and yours.
Beau doesn’t seem to be faring much better than you. Her eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips, but at least she can find it in herself to speak.
“You kissed me,” she murmurs.
It is a plainly stated fact but it still makes you shiver. Because, yes, you did, if only just on the cheek. But her lips are in front of you now, and you’re not sure you’ve ever been this close to her before. Some part of you is burning with a long-buried hunger. You’re breathing again, barely, and each breath you take is another moment suspended. You hold a world of opportunities in your lungs.
“-on the cheek,” Beau continues, and you watch her mouth in its motions. You can feel something slipping, but you aren’t sure what it means.
She takes a shaky breath before she asks, “Do you want to-?”
You don’t let her finish.
You realize what you’d felt was your restraint slipping through your fingers. You lose it, and letting go has never felt so good. You press forward even as she’s midway through speaking. You hope she was about to ask you to kiss her again, on the lips this time, because that’s exactly what you do as you lean forward and meet her.
You kiss her gently, as though you are scared you might break her. Beau has never been fragile, but you can’t help but be soft. There is a reverence to the way that you let your lips linger, and you think if, given the opportunity, you would gladly worship Beau with your touch.
That thought and its implications are enough to jolt you back a bit. The thoughts aren’t unpleasant, but they are founded in a hunger you’ve denied yourself for so long. You relegate them to the back of your mind, to be unpacked later. For the moment, you have something else to attend to.
Beau takes a shaky breath against your lips. You are no longer kissing her but your mouths remain close together. You inhale deeply and you think you can taste her on your tongue.
“Whoa,” she breathes.
Your insecurity rears its head at the most inopportune moment. “Was that-?” you begin to ask her, worried you may have upset her, but it is her turn to cut you off as she leans into you again.
Beau does not kiss you as though you are fragile. Beau has never once treated you as though you are made out of glass. It’s a level of respect that you appreciate, and have grown to admire, but when you can feel it seep into the way that she kisses you... well, you think the warmth travelling down your body is evidence enough. If you aren’t careful, those thoughts you tucked away will translate into actions.
She snakes a hand up your neck and anchors you together. If you thought that you had felt hungry then Beau appears famished. She clings to you as though you might disappear if she falters. You kiss her back eagerly, to show her you will not.
A few moments later, she pulls back from you, panting. Your heart thumps triumphantly in your chest. You chase her as she retreats, but you don’t try to kiss her. You just let your forehead meet hers and pause for a moment to breathe.
Then, she lets out a nervous laugh. You pull back a bit so you can look her in the eyes.
“Sorry, I, uh- I’m not sure if that’s allowed on the first date," she's saying. "I haven’t really done a ‘first date’, uh, in a while, so the rules are a bit... foggy.”
You want to smile at her but you’re still catching your breath. When you recover, you shake your head a little to let her know it’s alright. “No, I, uh- I’m actually a bit rusty too, so...”
“Oh, uh... good,” she tries and then winces. “I mean, not good, you know. Just, uh-”
“On the same page?” you offer.
“Yeah, yes. We’re on the same page.”
“Okay,” you tell her, and now you can smile. “I kind of like this kind of first date.”
She smiles at you. “Yeah? Me too. Although, I think we’re supposed to like... talk more?”
You laugh before moving back a bit, positioning yourself across from her as though you’re seated at a table. You wave your hand at her. “Well then, talk away.”
She chuckles as she mimics your pose, putting just enough distance between you to keep yourselves respectably apart. “Well... uh. I think we’re supposed to talk about each other. You know, the stuff we like n’ shit.”
You quirk an eyebrow at her in amusement, revelling in the confidence that surges within your chest. One kiss and you feel as though you could take on the Nonagon himself.
“N’ shit?” you tease her.
“Yeah,” she continues emphatically. “Like, uh... your favourite colour, or something.”
“My favourite colour?”
Beau shrugs. “Hey, I said this was new to me too.”
You laugh louder this time, pure happiness coursing through you. When you’ve settled, you turn your gaze to Beau once again. “You really want to know my favourite colour?”
Beau rubs the back of her neck nervously even as her lips pull into a grin. “Honestly, we could talk about anything. It’s just nice to be with you.”
Your heart swells in your chest as her words settle upon you. You think that you’d like nothing more in this moment than to kiss her again. You don’t, but only because you are trying to behave. It’s much harder than usual because you know Beau would reciprocate. You know what her mouth tastes like, and you want to feel her lips on yours again.
Later, you tell yourself. Later. Because it doesn’t really matter how long it takes so long as you’re together.
“It’s nice to be with you too, Beau,” you reply softly. Your stomach warms at the way her cheeks flush from your praise.
And so you talk and you laugh and you pass the evening together. If you kiss her again, with a hunger, there is no one to see it but the stars. Above you, they stand guard like the sentinels of the sky, watching over weary warriors and young lovers alike. The moons cast their light upon freshly fallen snow. In the distance, the lake lies dormant under its armour of ice, and the mountains rise up until they scrape against the heavens.
Come morning, you will have burdens and dangers and trouble. Tonight, you have Beau, and that is enough.