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In the growing twilight, the smaller game came out and B’intana had caught the musky scent of some kind of mammal–a mole, perhaps, or a shrew–found what looked to be a burrow, and set up a trap and now she crouched on the broken ledge of the ruins above and watched, listened, and used what little patience she had left to see if anything would stumble into her trap.
The decision to wait for morning to summon Hraesvalger was not entirely without merit, but B'intana had rather hoped to be done with this particular diplomatic excursion sooner rather than later. The longer their mission took, the more tempers flared and she was the only one allowed to have a short fuse. Everyone else was supposed to be calm and rational and collected and think things through carefully.
She wasn't particularly keen on having to explain to B'alith--or Aymeric, for that matter--why she'd had to punch Estinien if it happened, and the way Estininen and Ysayle seemed on the verge of something explosive left B'intana on edge, trying to choke down the constant fear that she would need to put herself between them--and it wouldn't be to protect Estinien--left her feeling like she had a rock lodged in her gut.
So talking to Hraesvalger, convincing him to help, and doing it as quickly as possible seemed the best way to keep everyone… well… un-punched.
B'intana put the thoughts aside at a panicked little squeal cut through the night and leaped down to kill the mole caught in her trap. She frowned at the light and took her meager kill back to their impromptu campsite. She blinked as she looked around. "Why has no one pitched any tents?"
The moogle took the mole she'd killed and set to work making it ready to go onto the fire. "What's a tent?"
"What's a--" B'intana looked at her brother, as if he could somehow make tents happen. He gave her a What do you want me to do about it? look and her ears flattened back. She crossed her arms over her stomach and was embarrassingly aware of just how big her tail had gone. "So you're telling me we don't have any tents."
"You're an adventurer," Estinien said. "Aren't you used to sleeping in unlikely and uncomfortable places?"
B'intana glared at Estinien. "Yes. In a tent. On a sleeping roll. I'm not an animal , and I'm not too small or weak to carry a pack with certain essentials for times like these when there's nothing but ruins and the open sky. We have a pot , but no tents?"
"I wouldn't be able to cook dinner if I didn't have a pot, kupo."
B'intana closed her teeth carefully on the edges of her tongue to keep from launching herself at the moogle.
Ysayle rested a hand lightly on B'intana's forearm and that touch made her shiver, sent all of her irritation at Estinien, at the moogle, at the whole lack-of-tent situation–that meant she couldn’t curl up against Ysayle in the night–skittering away. "Let's go get some more firewood," Ysayle said gently, and though she had pitched her voice low and kept herself close enough to B'intana that long hair tickled against B'intana's neck, Alphinaud somehow heard.
The young elezen looked at the pile of wood that sat on the ground between him and Estinien. "I can help," Alphinaud said, "If you truly think we’ll need more."
B'inana and Ysayle both looked at him with raised eyebrows and wide eyes. A flush warmed B'intana's cheeks.```
Estinien breathed a soft, "Ah," as if he suddenly realized just what it was that was irritating B'intana. "I think they're quite capable of finding firewood without your aid, boy."
B'alith looked like he'd swallowed a frog--or perhaps like he wished he had so he'd not have to have any of the indelicate conversations he also just realized might be necessary--and heat rose even more in B'intana's cheeks and ears; her tail lashed erratically back and forth, thwapping against the ground and the stone she leaned against. So much for their secret.
"Oh," said Alphinaud, then he yawned. "If you insist."
"We do." Ysayle slid her hand down B'intana's arm and laced her long elegant fingers between B'intana's much shorter, much less elegant ones and squeezed gently. "Come on. I know a place we can look."
B'intana looked up as Ysayle stood. The moonlight glinted off of silvery blue hair and B'intana nodded; she would do anything for this ethereal woman. She let Ysayle draw her to her feet and felt awkward, every bit the chaotic gremlin her siblings had accused her of being when she was younger, and then Ysayle smiled at her and stepped backwards away from the fire, drawing B'intana along with her into the silvery night, away from her brother and Alphinaud and Estinien and whichever moogle it was there with them.
Though the area was wild with lesser dragons–or perhaps just oversized lizards–Ysayle seemed to know just how close the two of them could get to a beast before it would notice. There was a time that B’intana would have asked about that, would have cared about it as the hunter she was supposed to become, but now? She only had eyes for Ysayle as she lead B'intana through the moonlit darkness.
They walked up a hill to one of the ruins, skirting downed columns and rubble and B’intana didn’t know how Ysayle knew of this place, or if she only guessed. They came to a stop beside a fountain–now watered only by the rains when they came to this place above the clouds–and a bench. Ysayle sat and patted the stone beside her. B'intana sat, stared at the fountain. "I think Estinien and B'alith might know now."
"Does it matter so much?"
B'intana shook her head. "I guess not. I just hoped maybe they wouldn't figure it out until after–" She raked her fingers through her hair, then asked, "Are you nervous?"
" Now you worry I might be nervous to be with you?"
B'intana bowed her head, curled her tail up about Ysayle's waist and Ysayle stroked her fingers through the travel-dusty fur. "I mean about tomorrow." When the clarification was met with silence B'intana asked, "What will you do if Hraesvalger refuses to help?"
"He won't." Ysayle said finally, but there was doubt in her voice.
"But what if he does?"
Ysayle shook her head slowly. "I can't let myself think that he will."
Night birds flitted over the fountain edge, dipped heads into the water, shook themselves, feathers ruffling.
"If Hraesvalger won't help..." B'intana's tailtip flipped back and forth against Ysayle's hip. "If we can't stop Nidhogg–and maybe even if we can–they'll send people after you. Temple Knights, regular soldiers, maybe the Heavensward. They can't risk letting you regroup with your people." Twelve help her, when did she start thinking like this? When had she started planning for the worst? "They definitely can't risk others listening to what you have to say, believing you, following you. Not when a bunch of noblemen's precious legacies are at stake." B'intana gritted her teeth. "And I won't lose you. Not to them or to Nidhogg or– or to anyone else." She clutched one of Ysayle's hands in both of hers. "Please don't tell me I can't come with you."
Ysayle brushed her fingertips through B'intana's bangs then cupped her cheek, shushed her gently. "If there comes a time that I must flee, and you would still run with me, I will not tell you to stay behind." B'intana tilted her head up and Ysayle smiled.
"I can protect you." And B'intana didn't know why she was still trying to convince Ysayle to let her follow, to prove that she had some value, that she would be able to help rather than be a hindrance.
"I know you can, Intana." The intensity in Ysayle's voice made B'intana flush warm all over. Ysayle tilted her head, brushed her lips softly over B'intana's, then whispered, "But I would rather think of now than speak of a tomorrow that might never come."
"What are you thinking about now?"
Ysayle traced her fingertips down the side of B'intana's neck then slid them back and up into her hair. "That I should very much like to kiss you." She teased her lips against B'intana's, pressing soft playful kisses at the corner of her mouth, then down her jaw, then back. "And after that, I should very much like to see you bare beneath the moonlight, coming undone at my touch."
B'intana's breath caught, and a tiny little mewl of a sound escaped her. "Please," she whispered, her heart pounding.
"Please what?" Ysayle's finger tapped at the buckle on her chest harness, caught at the end of the strap and slowly unfastened the buckle.
"Let me please you." B'intana's voice was soft and her ears hot as a desert summer.
"It would please me very much," Ysayle murmured against B'intana's cheek, "To worship at the altar of you tonight. To kiss you here," and she pressed a kiss against the skin her breath had just warmed. "And here," and she tilted her head to kiss the corner of B'intana's mouth. "You deserve every bit as much pleasure and joy as you have brought me, my beautiful guardian."
"I'm not beautiful." The denial lept from B'intana's lips as though she was parrying a physical blow.
Ysayle's fingernails dragged slowly through B'intana's hair along her scalp then dug gently through the fur at the base of her ears. "You are, but if it pains you to hear it said so plainly I shall refrain from saying so–for now. But when you are ready to hear it–" She slid her hand beneath B'intana's harness and cupped her breast, brushed her thumb over B'intana's nipple. "–I shall be here to shout it to the heavens."
B'intana clung lighty to Ysayle's shoulders and shivered beneath her gentle touch. "Kiss me," she begged softly, and Ysayle did. The kiss was starlight and shave-ice, beautiful and sweet and bright, and B'intana could not get enough of it. She tangled her fingers in Ysayle's hair and Ysayle's hands moved over her body, unlaced her leathers and unbuckled the strap above her tail. When Ysayle's fingers curled, nails dragging at the base of her tail, then up to the small of her back, B'intana pulled back from the kiss, her back arching, a breathless cry of pleasure falling from her lips.
Ysayle took that moment to scatter kisses over B'intana's exposed throat, to flick her tongue over the hollow between her collarbones, then trail kisses lower.
B'intana squirmed, her leathers slipping down her hips as she did. Ysayle caught B'intana's nipple between her lips and suckled gently, flicked her tongue playfully this way and that until B'intana whined and tugged at her hair.
Ysayle drew her mouth away just enough to ask, "What is it, love?"
Love. B'intana thought she might die of delight over the sound of that word from Ysayle's lips. "I– I want–"
Ysayle blew lightly over the sensitive little nub, as if to coax out the rest of that sentence. "You want what, my gallant protector?"
B'intana whined softly, unable to make her lips form the words, her voice utter them, she wanted so much , wanted Ysayle so much.
"More?"
B'intana nodded frantically, breathed out a desperate, "Yes."
"Then more you shall have." Ysayle took her time kissing and stroking over B'intana's bare skin, then coaxed B'intana to her feet and slid her leathers and smallclothes down her hips and trailed her kisses lower, down the trail of softness that covered B'intana's mound, and then she slid off of the bench and onto her knees, trailed kisses down farther and nuzzled up between B'intana's legs.
B'intana curled her fingers in Ysayle's hair, whimpered, legs trembling, her whole body alight with desire, the chill in the night air doing little to cool her.
Between kisses, Ysayle murmured, "You deserve a warm bed. To be able to spread out. Soft sheets to clutch."
All of their moments had been stolen, much like this one: an empty chocobo stable at Tailfeather, against a stone wall in a crumbling hallway in Anyx Trine. Their first time together, B'intana told Ysayle that she deserved a bed, to be surrounded by softness, fresh sheets, and here Ysayle was, echoing B'intana's words back to her with such fierce tenderness that B'intana's throat ached and tears spilled from her eyes.
Ysayle guided B'intana's leg over her shoulder and kneaded the small of her back as she pressed kisses along B'intana's labia, trailed her tongue between those soft folds teasing them open for her.
B'intana's legs trembled and she clung with one hand to Ysayle's shoulder and the other to her hair. Her tail lashed back and forth and she let out breathless, needy little cries as Ysayle slowly drove her mad with lips and tongue and then with a finger stroking gently into her, and then two fingers. B'intana clenched her teeth when pleasure crashed through her to keep herself silent, certain that in the calm and quiet night her cries would carry easily back to the camp. Her leg trembled and Ysayle drew back and whispered, "I have you. I won’t let you fall."
Ysayle eased B'intana gently to the cool stone bench then kissed her. B'intana clung to her, shivering, the chill in the air finally catching up to her, and Ysayle wrapped her arms around B'intana, held her close as she caught her breath.
"We should go back to the fire," Ysayle murmured, reluctance in her voice.
"I don't want to."
"You're cold." And Ysayle rubbed her hands over B'intana's shoulders and back. "And there will be other nights. Other afternoons."
"You’re warm. I could fall asleep in your arms." B’intana rested her forehead against Ysayle’s. “I want to.”
Ysayle chuckled softly. "You can, if we go back to the campfire."
B'intana snorted, murmured an exhausted, "Fine."
Ysayle helped her back into her clothes and they walked back to the camp. Alphinaud was asleep, the moogle curled up at his back. B'alith slept too, or at least he was faking it really well; his ears didn’t give him away and his tail didn't even twitch when they approached. Estinien looked back and forth between the two of them, then got up. "I'll take the next watch," he said in a gruff whisper.
B'intana and Ysayle settled in on a soft-enough looking patch of grass, B'intana nestling in against Ysale's chest and curling her tail over Ysayle's thigh.
"Sleep well, my love." Ysayle's words came soft and warm over B'intana's ear and she hugged Ysayle's arm tightly to her chest, as if she might disappear when the misty morning sunlight came if she didn't hold on tightly enough.
And though B’intana fell asleep glad of Ysayle’s warmth against her back, a tent still would have been nice to hold back the dawn a little bit longer and give them more time in each others’ arms.