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Ticking in the nearby corridor kept track of the time as it whittled away. Veryl flexed her fingers on the table, trying to ignore the urge to tap out a tune. It itched behind her ears and the impulse to engage with the melody was starting to weigh down her shoulders.
She sighed again. How many times had she read the same line now? Her eyes ached from straining in the dim light. Daylight had retreated from the windows and candle light was now the only source; she couldn't help longing for the cooler tones of Veilfire. Too much of this reminded her of the many nights she'd spent studying in the halls of the Necropolis. Wasting hours under the guise of education when really it was a reprieve from expectations or reprimands.
"Find something?" Jericho asked absently from across the table as he flipped through his book, diligently skimming and trying to locate some mention of the ritual they'd heard about.
Veryl looked up to glance at him only briefly; briefly turned into a few moments and then seconds. She decided she much preferred watching him intently focus on the text in front of him, rather than her own. He seemed unaware of the things he did in his white open front tunic. The deep cut hinted at a tattoo she had yet to familiarize herself with and small scatterings of hair that she very much wanted to feel against her finger tips.
And the glasses… Maker have mercy on her poorly preserved soul. Every time he looked at her over the frames she had to fight against a stray keening noise that wanted to escape from some long buried girlish part of her. She might as well catch on fire.
It'd been weeks since the ball. Weeks since they had danced together. Weeks since he'd saved that noble prick's ass from her knife. Weeks since they'd run out of breath trying to make it back to the villa. Weeks since she said yes to letting him kiss her whenever he wanted.
That's what she kept reminding herself, whenever he wanted. The promise she had made to not let things change hung between them, she just had to be patient. Maker only knew how many times she'd caught herself staring just like this, willing for anything to happen. Before, she would have been itching to jump at any chance afforded to her or make an opportunity of her own.
Now… how long had it been? Seven or eight months since she'd spent an evening letting Elek send her over the edge, five or six times? What about Jericho's own experience with the dock town protector? Was it different?
The sigh she let out reached somewhere into the clawing ache deep in her stomach. She ripped her eyes off of her study partner and glared hard at the words in front of her, willing them to make any sense and hold her attention.
Whenever he wants.
Hands. Bodies. Sounds pulled from vocal chords. Uniquely particular sensations of cresting over a vibrating horizon. Old things she'd rely on to make sure she was alive and not just trying to survive another nightmare.
"Ver?" Jericho's voice broke through and Veryl realized she was standing. She vaguely recalled the sound of the chair behind her scraping across the flagstone floor. He was looking up at her from his own seat, the soft fall of fringe framing his eyes like a portrait of a soul that knew too much.
"I haven't found anything— I'm gonna look for… the other… one." She tried to remember exactly which book she had and what other ones they thought they might need. What book did he have?
"Extinction with Immortality?" Jericho offered helpfully.
"Yes! That's the one!" Veryl's smile felt pasted on as she snapped her fingers and wagged her index finger. "I'll be back." She didn't hear what he said in response because she was already scurrying away into the stacks of the library.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
It was getting overwhelming. It hadn't been this bad since… well the night they had met. Dreams that felt like an age ago. She wanted very badly to just be able to focus on something, anything else. Instead, the most pervasive feeling was the one she wouldn't have stopped herself from indulging in a whole name and lifetime ago. Jericho, he couldn't handle that. Not right now— if ever.
It wasn't like she trusted herself with him anyway.
That grappling for self control hadn't stopped the thoughts, the daydreams, the night dreams (the ones she prayed he was never privy to) and the ideas. The millions of ideas. The things she enjoyed, the things she'd done at the request of others, the things she wanted to try. But for all of the times she'd been able to act on those desires, the person was faceless.
Now, an understanding face with blue eyes and skin that turned rosy under the slightest inclination, was the center of each. Maker, she wanted to die. Perhaps not literally, but she didn't feel as though a reprieve would be too much to ask.
It was as though she was a teenager again, chasing after pleasure and running wild. It felt like her head was threatening to split open as the thoughts swung back and forth on their pendulum.
"There you are." A real voice silenced the fake ones. The ticking in her ears dulled, and the warm sensation in her belly was diminished. "What are you doing in the beastiary section? It was in the ancient magics stacks. Here, have a look."
He pointed to a series of small sketches, outlining a few vague steps that could be enacted to produce the ritual.
"It's not much on it's own, but when you pair it with the hypothesis you found in that second volume of Magiks: Theoretical and Anticipatory—"
"It could summon a Solicitous Spirit." She finished the thought with him, and he gave her an encouraging smile for catching on so quickly.
"Or more likely, a Heedless demon if it's done wrong." Veryl leaned closer, the relief she was seeking finally within reach. She bent closer to see where he was pointing to next.
"It does seem incredibly fragile, and look how long this list of supplies is. Can you even get Leomurli so easily?" He asked.
Veryl shook her head, "I don't think so. But then, it's got fairly ancient roots. I wonder if it could be found back home?" Nevarra was home to all kind of wonders that dated back ages upon ages, to an nth degree that no one could really estimate, and the Necropolis was even older. Sadly, grave robbers and other troublemakers were as common as the Necropolis was aged.
They both gave each other a revelatory look, Jericho's eyebrows shot up, "I'll let Quin know."
"And I'll get a message to the Watch. They'll probably still take my letters." Veryl nodded along with his thought, reaching to grasp the book and flip it around so she could read it better. "Maybe if I use red ink."
"I can co-sign it if you want? They won't know me, but maybe another name would help?" Jericho offered as he passed the book off to her. She bit absently at her thumbnail, finally zeroing in on the sketch with all of its timeline intricacies.
"That would be wonderful, Bluebird, thank—" she glanced up to find him watching her. "…you. What is it? Did I get ink on my face?" She reached up to brush at her cheekbone.
"What? Ah, no." Jericho rubbed at the back of his neck, and even under the dim light of the sconce they stood next to, she could see his skin darken with a fine blush. "Did you know your right eye twinkles when you figure something out? The left one absorbs everything but the right, it just… shines. It's mesmerizing."
Veryl listened to him intently, the heavy tome in hand forgotten under the weight of his spoken words. She watched as he worked through the explanation, focused on every syllable, thirsting for the way his syntax formed the words.
It wasn't enough. It just couldn't be enough.
Veryl contemplated it for only a second, leaned forward, and did what she'd been yearning to do. Jericho's lips felt plush against her own as they met for just a moment. She pulled away quickly biting her lip and trying to read his expression.
Surprise turned into a pleased look, a small smirk, the likes of which she didn't often see on his face, took over as he followed her movement and leaned into her space. It was all the confirmation she needed to reach back and place the book on the shelf behind her hip. Her breathing accelerated as anticipation grew.
"I was afraid to try again after—" he started.
"Jer?" She drew her arms around his shoulders as he pressed closer still. He gave a questioning sound in response. "Stop talking."
The smirk grew and a breathy laugh broke free as Veryl dove in. He was quick to change up and meet her, matching her enthusiasm. Quick breaths between heartbeats, they twisted toward each other; both of them tilting their heads, physically arguing over who got to do more.
She wanted to be gentle about it, but she was spurred on by his acceptance of her invitation. Suddenly all of those months without this exact action didn't feel like torture, it felt like coming home. The tangibility of his form in front of her heightened her desire. She strove to taste him, opening her mouth to lick and claim him. She tested a few small nips with her teeth against his lower lip, pleased to hear a sigh escape his lungs unbidden.
He didn't seem to mind and matched her vigor. His hands grasped at her hips and pulled her as close as he could get, they stumbled back until she could reach for the bookshelf above his head and block him in.
Jericho's heart was pounding, threatening to escape from his chest, as Veryl gained the upper hand. She had him pinned between her body and the bookshelf behind him. His hands trembled where they held her as their lips pressed fervently into each other, their tongues meeting again and again. Desperate to feel, to taste, to explore.
He shivered as one of her hands caressed the line of his jaw, the other sneaking under the collar of his shirt, making its way to his neck. His pulse quickened beneath her touch, and he found his breath had left him completely. His body and his mind were torn. One, desperately wanting to continue, to find out exactly how this would play out. The other, knowing he wasn't ready, that the impending panic would set in at any moment. Both were barely holding together.
Air flooded back into his lungs as she broke the kiss, leaving a trail of soft touches along his cheek and jaw as her lips made their way to his neck instead. Hating himself for what he was about to do, he moved his hands to her wrists, holding them gently as he pried her off of him.
"Ver… " Jericho gasped, his eyes unfocused, chest heaving with labored breaths. "I need to slow down." Veryl's expression quickly traveled from shock at having been stopped, to disappointment at his words. He closed his eyes, not able to take the way she looked at him now. "I'm sorry."
"I didn't mean to— I — forgive me, I'll go." Veryl excused herself and made her way to the door.
"Ver, wait!" He tried to call after her, but she either didn't hear, or didn't want to hear.
"Venhedis." Jericho sunk to the ground, his shaking legs no longer willing to hold him. He leaned his head back against the cool wood of the bookcase and attempted to control his breathing. He noted the tremors in his hands starting to ease as he counted each breath - deep breath in, hold, deep breath out.
He tried to push the spiraling thoughts out of his mind, knowing they would only lead to further panic, but they came anyway. He'd waited weeks for a chance to kiss her again, only to land in the same place as before. Both of them, panicked and disappointed, as once again, they'd taken it too far too fast.
Breathe in.
He knew the wait had to be hard for her, that she probably already wanted much more than he was ready to give. He was already slightly pushing himself past his current limits in an attempt to please her, but he knew the damage it would do if he let her push him all the way. She deserved better than to have him for one panic-filled night that would end in him breaking things off for good, unable to face the pressure again.
Hold.
Jericho just hoped that she would be patient. Despising how long he'd already made her wait, he just wanted her to give him time to find what he needed, to be everything that she needed. And he prayed that it wasn't already too late for that.
Breathe out.
Sighing, and satisfied that his panic attack had been staved off, at least temporarily, he got back to his feet and went in search of Veryl, hoping she was still somewhere in the library.
Jericho made his way down the stairs, checking each floor for her as he passed, looking to see if she lurked somewhere among the myriad of books. Losing hope that he would find her still in the building, he paused as he reached the first level, hearing the occasional discordant notes of a piano down the hall.
He walked into a large, dimly lit room to find Veryl sitting at an old upright piano, plucking away at a simple melody. She was slumped forward, her light hair falling in her face, obscuring her features. Jericho's heart broke at the sight of her, knowing he was the cause of the pain she had on display.
Approaching cautiously, he cleared his throat to alert her to his presence before speaking. "Veryl? Do you mind if I join you?" He spoke carefully, softly.
In response, Veryl shifted, making room for him on the piano bench. "Do you play?" She asked quietly.
"I had lessons, as a kid, before my magic came in, before they knew what I was… and everything changed..." He shook his head, the emerging memories unwelcome. "I've picked it up again, here and there, over the years. But it's been awhile. I might be a little rusty."
He gently tapped a couple of keys, the echo of a melody slowly returning. He began to play, missing a few notes at the start, but the muscle memory began to take over.
Veryl wouldn't recognize the song he played - an old Tevene lullaby, he'd told her - but the sound was pleasant and relaxing to them both. Jericho smiled to himself as she rested her head on his shoulder, watching his hands move across the keys, feeling the way he breathed with the music. Almost unconsciously, he softly hummed along, his voice blending with the melody of the piano.
As the sound of the final notes faded away, Veryl lifted her head from his shoulder and he sighed, already missing the warmth and peace of the last few minutes. Slowly reaching out, Jericho took her hand in his, rubbing circles on the back of it with his thumb. He kept his gaze on their hands as he spoke. "I'm sorry, Ver. I didn't want to hurt you."
"I'm sorry too."
Jericho took a deep breath before speaking again, afraid of what was coming next. "Can we talk about this? I think… I get the sense that we're both struggling with this… with us."
Veryl nodded. "There are some things you should know." She sighed. "But I also need to understand where the line is for you. I feel like I keep crossing it." She let the presumption hang in the air.
Fixing his gaze on hers, he squeezed her hand, willing her to understand what he was about to say. "I've never really had to explain this before, so please, just hear me out." He inhaled deeply before continuing. "There's something about me that's… I don't know. Missing? For a long time, I never understood what made people want to be with another person… like that. I'd never felt that. I didn't think I ever would. I can see the beauty in others, I like being close to someone, and kissing is really nice… but anything beyond that? I never understood why. I never saw another person in a way that would make me want to have sex with them. I felt… broken. Like something was wrong with me."
He took another deep breath as he weighed his next words. Veryl watched him quietly, and attempted to offer comfort. "There's nothing wrong with you—" He held up a hand to stop her when she tried to protest what he said.
"Being with Elek changed that. We took things slow, I never told him why. I let him have his assumptions - that I was afraid, that I was worried about appearances - I didn't know how to explain that I might never want what he did. And then… it happened. A couple of months in. After I'd grown especially close to him. I didn't see it coming… how could I have? But I suddenly felt that thing I'd always been missing. It was overwhelming. I was scared. But I trusted El… he got me through it. And eventually, I wanted it as much as he did.
"But now, with you, it's like starting all over again. I think you're beautiful, I care about you so much. I want to be with you. I want to hold you close every night, and kiss you as much as you want. But I just… I don't want more. Not yet. Trying sends me into a panic."
With his free hand, Jericho tucked a strand of hair behind Veryl's ear, and came to rest on her cheek. "But I will. If you can be patient with me. I promise."
Veryl gave a self deprecating laugh, "if you don't mind being patient with me." She had it in spades for everyone but herself. Finally giving into the melody, she played out the complicated piece though she didn't give it as much care as she ought. A deep cringe and an instinctual brace for impact had her body tensing every time she hit a key wrong.
As her own song came to an end and she moved into an old simple tune she didn't have to think about, she chanced an explanation for her own actions. "I've never had much self control when it comes to sex. It's always been the one thing I could count on to get me through a hard night." She glanced at the man next to her, a bashful countenance over taking his features.
"I won't get into details, but I've been trying my hardest to curb those urges with you. Jer," she stopped her plinking and turned to look at him, her knee knocking into his on the bench. "You're important to me. And I'm terrified I'm going to ruin this for you.
"You're not ruining anything, Ver —" He started softly, but she cut him off.
"I like touching you and holding you, and I've never been more at peace than when you're holding me. Now that I know what the line is, I'm going to try not to scare you anymore. You deserve more than just patience and security, you also deserve to be understood. I want to give that to you."
His eyebrows worked together to form a worried line, but there was a subtle hope behind his eyes, a relief, to have been accepted as he was. She patted his hand and smiled to let him know she was okay, serious, but able to recover from the misstep. "I just— do you know what looking like that and saying my eyes are mesmerizing, does to a girl? You have more power than you realize, Bluebird." she laughed and shook her head.
He laughed with her, "I promise I'm not doing anything intentionally."
"Ha! I know." She corrected her posture and went back to playing a few little notes. She tossed him a look as her left hand joined her right. "That's part of the appeal." In fact, his innocence when lined up against the salacious thoughts she did her best to staunch in his presence, was a stark reminder of how out of control she'd been.
He deserves more.
Over the notes that now strung themselves together into something recognizable, she said quietly, "can I try again?"
A steady hand moved along with hers to stay them on the keys. His other hand led with a few fingers to encourage her to look at him.
"We'll try as many times as it takes to get it right," his eyes delved into hers, intense and unwavering. He then gave a shrug accompanied by a small smile, "and maybe a few more for good measure."
Eager to correct her mistake, and to give him something other than the impression she'd jump his bones at the very first chance she got, Veryl straddled the bench to face him.
It was slower this time. There were no impulses she chased, just small pecks that grew in length. His hands on her shoulders slid down her arms to her hands, giving her no choice but to move with him. He lifted them to his shoulders, and held them there. An invitation to touch but still keeping her at bay. Setting their limit. The kisses were deliberate and slow, with plenty of thought and affection behind every small shift.
Veryl left it to him to deepen it, afraid of what she might do if left to her own devices. He didn't leave her wanting, pressing forth with more focus on her lips, squeezing his hands where they still shackled her wrists. Just when she felt she might teeter over an edge, he gently pulled away.
Their breathing matched in even puffs. She did not feel the typical frenzy she searched for in confirmation of interest, she saw it in his eyes. He'd enjoyed himself, and neither of them had run. The marvel of the moment sank into her sternum; there was no fear of losing control. Control was still wrapped in his hands as he held her to him, watching her, waiting for any sign just as she watched him.
"How was that?" She asked, relaxing her hands against his shoulders as his own moved in circuits across her arms.
"Better." He nodded once, that smirk and sparkle bright enough to see in the dimly lit room. He contemplated the ceiling for a second, then looked back to her, "I do think your technique could use a little work though." His tone was playful, if not a little cheeky.
Veryl let out a surprised laugh, "Oh you do, do you?" The last wisps of tension fled the room as he smiled at her and gave a small nod.
"But I'm willing to keep practicing till you get it right." Small vocalizations of confirmation left Veryl before they were once again softly pressing toward each other. The tome on the shelves of the bookcase several floors above them was well and truly forgotten.