It felt like the right decision. And more than that, more than the trepidation, she wanted him. Had wanted and loved Kell for so long that this felt...like a natural conclusion, even if it might have been a poor decision in the long-term. They only had this moment; when the next moment came, they only had that time too. She wanted to use this time to enjoy him and to let herself feel more than she would allow. Here, she was safe. In his arms, she knew she would be cared for.
The sound he made shot through her, jangled her nerves. She touched him for just a fleeting second until he suddenly lifted her, coaxed her to hold on, and then she was gripping him about the shoulders again. It gave her every excuse to thread her fingers in his hair once more, to feel its silkiness against her skin, until he took them to the bed and rested her there, climbing up. Neria reached for him, kissed him until she was nearly breathless again, her fingers reluctantly sliding down to find the catches of his coat--
And it was here that she felt something cool, metallic. She opened her eyes, nuzzling him, trying to look at what was between them. Paused at the familiar sight of a blue, glass bead.
The world tipped on its axis again as she reached up to touch it, her thumb running over its smooth sides. She looked, too, for the pendant she had given him, but her eyes were already searching his face. "Kell," she whispered, but had no words for the errant emotion she felt. She had spent so long wondering if, when he left, if he hated her, if he hated her decisions...that he felt so much guilt that he might have thrown away the things she had let him keep, as he tried to give them back before they went their separate ways. And Neria remembered, even before that day in the mountains, that their parting words to each other had not been kind. She had killed herself with his information, had told others how to do the same - and the doubts had piled in her heart for so long, cultivated there by the poisonous words Kaevir had given her.
But he kept them. He kept these pieces of Neria that were buried, of a woman who died on the mountainside, whose corpse was shackled and brutalized for weeks. And that woman was someone he still cared for.
Neria leaned up and kissed him again, that he might not see the glassiness in her eyes, but he would feel the furious pounding of her pulse, and she worked harder now to pull his coat from his shoulders, that she might seek warm skin beneath.
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The sound he made shot through her, jangled her nerves. She touched him for just a fleeting second until he suddenly lifted her, coaxed her to hold on, and then she was gripping him about the shoulders again. It gave her every excuse to thread her fingers in his hair once more, to feel its silkiness against her skin, until he took them to the bed and rested her there, climbing up. Neria reached for him, kissed him until she was nearly breathless again, her fingers reluctantly sliding down to find the catches of his coat--
And it was here that she felt something cool, metallic. She opened her eyes, nuzzling him, trying to look at what was between them. Paused at the familiar sight of a blue, glass bead.
The world tipped on its axis again as she reached up to touch it, her thumb running over its smooth sides. She looked, too, for the pendant she had given him, but her eyes were already searching his face. "Kell," she whispered, but had no words for the errant emotion she felt. She had spent so long wondering if, when he left, if he hated her, if he hated her decisions...that he felt so much guilt that he might have thrown away the things she had let him keep, as he tried to give them back before they went their separate ways. And Neria remembered, even before that day in the mountains, that their parting words to each other had not been kind. She had killed herself with his information, had told others how to do the same - and the doubts had piled in her heart for so long, cultivated there by the poisonous words Kaevir had given her.
But he kept them. He kept these pieces of Neria that were buried, of a woman who died on the mountainside, whose corpse was shackled and brutalized for weeks. And that woman was someone he still cared for.
Neria leaned up and kissed him again, that he might not see the glassiness in her eyes, but he would feel the furious pounding of her pulse, and she worked harder now to pull his coat from his shoulders, that she might seek warm skin beneath.