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Jericho shifted positions on the sofa, trying and failing to find some relief from the heat. Everywhere he landed felt uncomfortable and too warm. The sun beat down outside the window, waves of humidity were practically visible in the air.
He'd walked in the apartment, swaying on his feet, and immediately collapsed on the cushions. Veryl had found him there, still fully clothed, still covered in sweat from earlier in the day.
As the weather had turned warm, she'd started refusing to work out of doors, preferring to stay close to the small magical cooling device she'd bought with her own money. "I'm not built for the heat, I won't do it. It's like an unspoken rule of the Watch," was her vehement excuse, followed by cursing Tevinter for having such weather.
When she came across him, it had been while she passed through the living space on her way back to her little 'cave'. He watched her leave their room, where there were sheets tacked up over the windows, head buried in some papers. She'd been focusing on some correspondence recently, the stack of letters growing higher as she procrastinated in her response. More time was spent on her expressing her hatred for the entire ordeal.
She'd passed him by as he watched her from a puddle of his own making, and went back to their room. The door had closed only to reopen a few seconds later.
"You alive?" she'd asked, the fair plait falling from her shoulders as her head peaked around the corner. All he could do was groan as he turned his face into the cushions.
After she'd helped him stand and strip down, he had bathed and found his way back to the chaise. The heat still wouldn't let up, his mana stores were too low to do anything about it while he was in recovery. Veryl was still 'ass-deep' in letters, and as soon as she'd seen him flop back down, she'd bid him farewell and went back into hiding.
With a deep sigh, Jericho fidgeted on the couch again. He couldn't tell if he was more frustrated from the lack of cool air, or the fact that he had hardly seen Veryl all day. She had been mostly shut away writing letters since he'd returned home. He had missed her, and her attention might bring a much needed distraction from the unbearable heat.
Rising from the couch, he shuffled toward the room, peaking through a crack in the door. She had made a special request for Veilfire when he'd lit the candle for her, preferring the cool light over the warmth of a normal flame; that it made her feel more productive. It cast her in a green, otherworldly glow that suited her well.
She was focused on whatever letter had her current attention, quill in hand as she contemplated her next words. A stack of sealed envelopes sat near by. Books for reference stacked higher. They were letters form old classmates and professors, people seeking after her thoughts, well-being, and information on a certain mutual antagonist. Despite a tenuous relationship with the Mourn Watch, she still did her best to respond— much later than would usually be acceptable.
It looked like she was nearly finished. Perhaps she could also use a kind of diversion. He pushed the door open further and slipped inside. Already the space was ten times cooler than the common room.
First, he just stood in the doorway, sort of awkwardly. She didn't notice.
He closed the door and moved closer. Nothing, not even a head turn.
By the time he perched on the desk, opposite her lamp, the pout on his face had grown exponentially.
"Ver?"
"Hmm?"
"It's hot."
"It is."
Silence.
"Ver," with an extra dose of whine.
A laugh, "yes?"
"I miss you," there was an earnestness behind his teasing tone. He leaned down to catch her eye, the pout having worked it's way to his eyebrows. It was over-exaggerated but it had the effect he wanted. Veryl finally looked a him. The quill was thrown aside rather gracelessly and she leaned back in her seat to look up at him.
"Am I interrupting?" He asked, suddenly unsure if his presence was actually a hindrance.
Her hand sought out his and she relinquished a soft smile, "I didn't want to write that one anyway. Stuffy old council member that wants to talk about information I gave him once a million years ago." She rolled her eyes. "I just need to address these, find a courier, and then I can… why are you looking at me like that?"
"Will you help me cool down?"
"You specialize in ice magic," Veryl scoffed, "Why do you need my help?"
Jericho shook his head, "manas too low." He let his eyes get a little watery. "…and your hands are always cold."
Ver's eyebrows shot up, "are they?" She laughed a little and brought her hands to her face to test his theory. "Huh, I guess I'm more in tune with the Necropolis than I thought."
"Like holding hands with a corpse." Jericho nodded and laughed with her.
Veryl raised an eyebrow, "Your knowledge behind that comparison aside…" she rose to her feet to stand in front of him, holding her hands out between them. "Where do you want me?"
He paused for a moment, suddenly thoughtful. The heat had him feeling feverish, his head burning uncomfortably hot. He found himself wanting to feel her hands gently holding his face. But he knew if he asked for that, she'd be hesitant, and he'd have to brace himself. He involuntarily flinched and pulled away every time he found hands coming near his face, an old reflex, a bad habit he wanted to break. At least where Veryl was concerned. Jericho trusted her, completely.
Smiling at her in a way that he hoped showed her that he had thought this through, he answered. "Face, please. It feels like it's on fire."
Veryl frowned, but gave a firm nod. Slowly, and with more care than she'd offer anyone else, she raised her hands to either side of his face. She concentrated on moving slowly, but before she could touch the trimmed stubble of his beard, he flinched and she pulled away.
Before Veryl could completely back away, Jericho quickly reached forward and took both of her hands in his. Pulling them back to his face, he gently guided her hands to rest on his cheeks, placing a soft kiss against her palm as it passed his lips.
"I'm okay, Ver." He let himself relax into her touch with a sigh, closing his eyes as he felt her cool skin against his. "Please don't be afraid to touch my face. I want you to. I just… have to get used to it is all. I never mean to pull away." He opened his eyes and looked at her with a reassuring smile.
Veryl gave into a little hesitant flex of her fingers before easing into the act more confidently than before. He really was very warm against her hands, she hoped she could provide the relief he was seeking.
"I just don't want to scare you, bluebird." Veryl admitted quietly.
"You're not scaring me, Ver. I trust you." Jericho whispered, matching the softness in her voice.
Suddenly aware of the way heat spread across her own features, she focused instead on the way her hands slowly started to match the temperature of his face. She tucked her fingers in so that her knuckles brushed against him next, hoping to continue encouraging the change.
"Well… while I'm busy not scaring you," Her smile was slow and intentional. "Can I kiss you?"
Jericho took a second to marvel at the realization that the gentle brush of her knuckles against his cheek left him unaffected - other than giving him a reason besides the heat to melt. With a soft chuckle, he leaned in closer. "Always."
She closed the distance, tilting her head to press her lips firmly to his while her hands still held his face. It was slow, sweet, simple. A small confirmation of care and adoration. Satisfied, she moved to pull away only to have Jericho bracket her hips with his own palms.
With a cheeky smirk, Jericho moved to close the distance again. "Ver, I think my lips are still too warm."
Veryl could barely contain her laughter, "Oh, they are, are they?" She didn't make him wait, meeting him halfway for another, headier kiss. Hands cinched closer and arms wrapped around shoulders, even in the heat, they were loathe to be separated. By the time Jericho had his way and was mostly satisfied, the temperature of the room had risen exponentially.