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It’s as if she’s been dead this whole time - dead to herself, dead to her people, and especially dead to Callum…
And now…
It feels as if she is coming back to life.
Callum is kissing her, fervently.
It started out platonic enough - her asking for a spare match to help light the candle, and that the candle kept going out and the draft in her new room was too much and it kept blowing the candle out, and didn’t he learn any of the Sun Primal yet to help her?
“No," was his answer, cold and distant - like he was somewhere off still in the Drakewood and she was here, and present, and in her pajamas and desperate for some candlelight …
“ Fine, goodnight,” was her equally terse and short response. The door slams shut as she whips around to go back to her room, much like a child goes back to its mummy after being left out of the circle at playtime - huffy and angry and wanting so badly to punch someone - to punch him - -
But those feelings… oh, do they ever get the best of her, and Rayla never played nice, not even as a wee elf.
She follows the feeling, and it takes her just a second to start knock-knock-knocking rapidly on his door again, making a loud enough sound to wake the whole kingdom of Katolis.
It instantly creaks open. “It’s past midnight !!” answers Callum’s ruddy face. “I told you - -”
“You’re an ass,” spits Rayla, even if his frustration causes a wave of devilish pleasure through her body. She was getting under his skin, and he knew it. “Just tell me to my face. You don’t want to help me.” Rayla points into his room where she sees a set of three glowing flames on a candelabra. “Explain that, dummy.”
“It’s from Viren’s study - I - I mean, my study!” sputters Callum, and now the door swings open wider. The young man just stands there, all vexed and angry in his pinstripe bedclothes, holding on to the doorframe as if he is guarding the very entrance to Rex Igneous’ cavern. “And you would know that if you weren’t gone for two years !”
Now it’s Rayla’s turn to become flushed. Anger and thoughts and memories and guilt come flooding in through her veins, and heat reaches her features as her teeth clench.
She flings the candle, hard. Its metal plate connects with the stone wall, emitting a high-pitched shhhhng, causing the waxy stick to bounce from its golden holder.
“ Ass,” she seethes again, and turns around this time to truly go, because seriously, fuck this and fuck him - -
“I know.”
She’s nearly down the hall when Callum’s voice echoes through the darkness. At first, Rayla’s not even sure he even said it - the elf slowly pivots to face the doorway, her anger temporarily muted.
Rayla pauses, leaning her head slightly, as if to seek validation that he was actually the one who spoke.
“I know,” he says again, softer this time. Gone is the hot, prickly heat of his cheeks, and instead, just a lonely look - a look of sadness, and resignation, and - - is it…?
Can it be… longing ?
Rayla’s feet move on her own accord, without her brain registering her actions. She retraces her steps, and in a moment, they are once again face-to-face.
Callum’s expression adopts this dreamy, far-off look, as if his mind is somewhere separate from his body. Rayla minutely notices the gray, faint rings around his eyes, like he’s been awake this whole time - maybe for all of two years - unable to sleep or rest.
It takes a moment to register the soft, strong hand on her face. Rayla sucks in a breath as Callum cups her cheek, donning a foreign expression of neutrality.
“It’s past midnight,” he repeats again, stupidly and obviously. Their faces are so close that Rayla can feel the little pffts of air emanating from his mouth. And before she knows what’s happening, his lips are gently pressed against hers.
The soft, plush feeling only lasts a second before the young mage must have realized what he was doing. He pulls back, the fluster returning along with his senses, and quickly mumbles a “sorry,” before retreating back into his room.
Rayla goes after him, entering the space of her own volition. This was, after all, once her room, too.
She grabs the young man’s hand, and forces Callum to turn around.
“You are an ass,” she repeats again, but this time pulling him into a proper snog.
And just like that, they are kissing - kissing, kissing, kissing …
It’s as if their lips can’t get enough. It’s as if time has slowed, just for them, and everything, everything - the leathery smell of his overworked skin, and his hands entwining with her hair, and his tongue dancing between her teeth - is all for her, and for this moment.
The bed catches their falling figures - her body pressed against the pillows for support, and his body pressed against hers, desperately seeking her and her form, making up for lost time…
“ Callum,” she manages to gasp, needing a minute to catch her breath and calm her racing thoughts. The young man obliges at the sound of her voice, and pulls back to stop and gaze upon her as his softened eyes brim with concern. Rayla relaxes her body against the plush pillows, sinking into their comforting feeling.
“Are you all right?” he genuinely asks, understanding the fragile, delicate tightrope they have been walking.
There is a beat, and then - “I don’t know,” she answers honestly, although a slight smile is gracing her features. “You?” she responds.
Callum chuckles. “To be honest…” he starts, but he is also smiling. “It’s the same for me, too.”
And his face drops again, more serious this time. Callum draws himself closer as the elf rests her head against the bed’s cushions. For a moment, their eyes are locked, and the intensity crackles like a piece of old wood burning into a flame. Verdant, shining pupils search for her, and when Rayla responds by cradling his face in her hands, Callum takes the opportunity to kiss her once more.
It’s deep, and loving, and tastes of I missed you so much, although these words have not yet been spoken. When their mouths part, Callum continues to trace her jaw, her neck, and then her collar with his lips, laying soft, feather-like pecks on her skin, causing Rayla to shiver with delight.
Yet the line of affection stops, somewhat abruptly. The energy shifts, and Rayla notices Callum has once again pulled away, but something has caught his eye this time.
He studies her. She becomes uneasy. Callum’s eyes move up and down, from her chest to her eyes and back again.
He reaches out, his hand warm and steady against her collar. Slowly, deliberately, he pulls the neckline of her nightclothes aside, as if uncovering a sacred truth. Callum’s eyes widened.
“...What is this?” Callum questions, confusion emanating from his tone.
Rayla’s eyes close at the query, and she lets her body fall further back into the mountain of pillows. Her eyes begin stinging.
“Rayla,” Callum’s voice comes at her. It’s not harsh, no, but it’s a tad accusatory nonetheless. What is it? What else are you hiding?
She relents. It’s not about keeping secrets. It’s about building trust.
And so, she squeezes her eyes, and carefully sheds her nightshirt, pulling it up and above her head with slow reluctance. When it’s fully removed from her body, and she is in nothing but her underwear and strophium, Rayla can hear Callum make an unfamiliar sound.
Within seconds, his practiced, nimble fingers trail the lines of the scar. The reddened, raised bands branch from a once-deep wound, like a tree being struck by lightning.
“ Rayla …” he says again, and his voice is shaking with emotion.
Her eyes finally open, and Callum is staring at her, his own irises shiny and gleaming like fine glass. He gently touches the scar, as if to check that it’s truly there, as he asks, “How did this happen?”
But the tears leak from her eyes, and suddenly Rayla feels small, and very, very tired. The elf just shakes her head slowly. “I’m sorry, Callum,” she apologizes, trying to keep her voice calm, “I just… “ - and she lets out a soft, tight sob - “I just can’t tonight. Please …” It’s not like her to beg, and she prays that Callum takes pity on her.
He removes his hands, and Rayla can’t quite read the expression on his face. For a minute, her stomach lurches at the anticipation of his next move - after all, they have been nothing but distant up until tonight - but instead, Callum leans down, and touches his lips to her shoulder blade, delicately kissing the scar that now rests on her tissue.
Relief and sweetness wash over her as Callum retreats. He hesitates a moment before removing his own nightshirt. The young man then snakes his arms around Rayla, pressing his bare chest against her own skin, and nuzzles her face affectionately.
“I will always protect you,” he breathes softly, and once again catches her lips with his own.
Here, in this moment, it’s as if she is returning to the physical…and Rayla is being brought back from the dusk. With every sigh, with every caress, and with every parting and reconnecting of their mouths…it’s like she is coming alive - it’s like he’s breathing life into her, and building their trust…
…one sigh, one caress, one kiss at a time.