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Just like that, Jacinthe had it - the lattice-like aetheric form that Darwin called Hallowed Ground snapped into place with a quiet sizzle, a faint blurring of the air around her. She could see it clearly; she could feel the energy she was drawing from the world, that she was drawing from herself - combining, multiplying, exploding outwards in a slow, undulating wave. A blanket of energy. Willed to deflect, willed to dull, willed to dissipate everything outside of it.
But not for long.
He came at her. She readied her shield, she angled her blade - ready to deflect him. At the last possible second he swept upwards, the blade sparking, energy streaking as it glanced off of the energy field. Less than an ilm from her nose.
As he passed by she caught a whiff of his sweat. She felt her knees weaken; she struggled to keep her shield up, to keep focused. She wanted to throw herself at him; she wanted him to hold her, protect her.
It was an inconvenient feeling - one that had been growing since she met him earlier in the morning. Since he smiled his rakish, scruffy smile at her.
"Good!" Darwin recovered, fell back, grinned happily. "Again!"
He swung. Quickly, violently, with a speed and fury she had never seen before. She gasped, brought her shield up - too late. His blade stopped just short of her neck - aether sizzling, spitting around it as he put all of his strength into the weapon.
She fell back, ducked, threw up her shield. She blocked his blade, deflected it as her grip on Hallowed Ground faded, as the aetheric field dissipated.
She sank to the ground. Panting, tears streaming down her cheeks. Exhausted.
Mother had shown her most of the technique - but not the cost.
Nausea welled up from deep within her. She dropped her sword, dropped her shield, and sprinted towards the nearby stream.
Hacking, coughing, as her eyes watered, as the stream carried her breakfast away. She gazed down at her reflection as she swayed, as she steadied herself on her hands and knees. Blurry, distorted, even through her spectacles. Rippling, indistinct - blue skin, metal armor.
A hazy, ill-defined woman, this Warrior of Light.
Jacinthe gasped, sobbed, shuddered as she felt a gentle pressure on her back - Darwin, patting her backplate with his gauntleted hand.
She stripped off her muddy gauntlets, cupped her hands, washed her mouth out with fresh water from the stream - it tasted bright and clear and beautiful. She drank some of it, felt herself steady. A final cough and she sat back, sat up. She sighed as she felt Darwin's hand on her shoulder.
"You don't look feverish." The Free Paladin's voice was firm, steady - a source of great comfort and relief. "Do you feel sick? Or is it the Black Wolf?"
She felt his left hand on her right shoulder - steady, reassuring. She placed her left hand atop his, squeezed gently - the metal and leather was warm, comforting. "It's... everything. I think. I don't know. I was sick yestersun, too. And I was queasy for most of the morning the sun before that. I think..." Jacinthe sighed as she struggled to transform emotions into words. "It's a lot, Darwin. It's too much." She tensed, readied herself to stand. She felt Darwin shift, heard him move - and he was there, in front of her, offering her his hand. His help. His support.
"You can handle it, Jac." Yaz. A grunt - more out of habit, more for show than need, he was so strong, so effortlessly strong - and she was up, she was standing.
She couldn't help herself. She could have stopped at the apex of her ascent; she continued forward, into him, embracing him, their breastplates clanking together. She sighed, closed her eyes as the Free Paladin awkwardly patted her back.
She wanted to cry, to sob, to let the pain and fear flow out of her... but she couldn't. Not yet.
"I can't," she whispered. "I can't. Just look at me. I'm a mess." She stepped back, took off her glasses, wiped her eyes.
"You're a master, is what you are." Darwin grinned confidently. "I've never seen anyone pick up Hallowed Ground so quickly. It was like you knew it already."
"I... uh. I kind of did know it already. Sort of." Jacinthe set her glasses back on her nose, plucked her gauntlets out of the mud, shook them off. "Awhile back, Mother gave me a glimpse of the future. An Echo. In that vision... I knew what Hallowed Ground was, I knew how to use it, I knew how long I could make it last. When you first spoke the words... I knew you were going to show me what I hadn't seen of it. I knew I'd be able to do the rest." She sat on the grass above the muddy embankment, set her gauntlets down beside her as she looked up at the handsome, unshaven Midlander. "You showed me the missing pieces... and now I have what I need. Now I can't put this off any longer." She sighed, rested her forearms on her thighs, looked down at the mud between her ankles.
"I thought we'd need all the time you had available, but... it seems we have bells to spare. You don't have to run off and report in now, Jac." Darwin grinned confidently at his student. "We can go over your blade work briefly, walk through mitigation techniques again. Maybe get some food in you."
Jacinthe shook her head. "I... don't think I'm going to be able to eat for awhile. I know I should, I'm just... not hungry. At all. The idea is..." And she was bent over the stream again, retching.
"Ugh." She gasped, sighed as she felt Darwin's hand on her back again. Armor on armor - it felt good. But it wasn't enough.
She needed to feel his skin, his stubble, his warmth.
She had no idea how to tell him that she needed more than his instruction, that she needed him.
"Darwin..." Her voice was halting, awkward. "I need... I... need more." The words felt like they were coming out of her mouth sideways.
She sat up again, stood up again. She turned to her instructor, looked down at him, made eye contact. She focused on his eyes, his expression, the faint scars on his cheeks and chin that disappeared when he remembered to shave. She wished they were sitting so she could tuck her hands under her thighs - she had no idea what to do with them; she was worrying them, working over her knuckles, massaging her palms with her thumbs. She bit her lip, felt her heart swell as his expression softened, as he took her hands in his, stilling them.
The metal and leather formed a warm, comforting barrier between them.
"From how you're behaving I'm guessing you don't mean you need more instruction." The scruffy Paladin smiled warmly. "What do you need, Jac? How can I help you?"
You can swive me.
She clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening. Had she said that?
Darwin raised his eyebrows.
No, she hadn't said that.
Maybe she should have.
She dropped her hand, brought it to rest atop his. "I can't... I've never..." The Warrior of Light sighed, a mixture of frustration and sadness and fatigue. "I don't know how to ask you." A glimmer of steel - a glimpse of the spark that burned deep within her. "But I'm not going to let that stop me. I... uhm... you're right. I don't need more instruction. I need you."
It was Darwin's turn to be awkward. He stepped back a bit - but he continued to hold her hand in his; she continued to hold his hands between hers.
"How would Roehbryda feel about that?" He glanced down at the bonding band on her finger - slim, stoneless, so she could wear it under her gauntlets.
"Awhile back she encouraged me to explore my feelings for you." Jacinthe smiled awkwardly. "At the time... I was slowly realizing that I find you attractive. But training was far more important. If you noticed, you never said anything. You've been very professional, Darwin. But now..."
"...you need me to be unprofessional." Darwin's lips quirked upwards in a conflicted smile.
Jacinthe nodded, smiled hopefully. "I need... I don't know how to articulate this feeling, honestly. After this morning, I'm going to have to be the Warrior of Light. And I'm going to have to be that for suns. Moons, maybe. Not just for the Scions, not just for people in need here and there, but for the whole of Eorzea. I need... to feel your strength. I need to be... who I am, for a short time. Before I have to be the woman Eorzea needs me to be."
"Who are you, Jacinthe Des-bois?" Her full name, pronounced correctly - a first for Darwin.
The Warrior of Light closed her eyes. She spoke slowly, carefully. "I am a woman who feels weak and powerless and overwhelmed by circumstance. I need... comfort. And support. I've felt... receptive to you since we first met, and I want nothing more than to receive you while we still have the chance." She stopped there, afraid she'd babble about the emotions welling up within her - feelings she barely understood, feelings she didn't expect him to understand.
"Smooth." Darwin chuckled, grinned. "I like you, Jac. I like you a lot. But I'm never intimate with students - no matter how beautiful they are." He was struggling. She'd never seen him like this - he seemed interested, he seemed like he was willing. He just needed a nudge in the right direction.
He needed the right kind of permission.
"You told me that Hallowed Ground was your final lesson, the last technique that you had to impart to me. I've demonstrated it. I'm no longer your student, Darwin. I have become your equal." Jacinthe placed her hands on his shoulders. She wanted to hold his head in her hands, she wanted to kiss him. She wanted to feel his stubble rubbing her cheeks. "I've learned all the instructor has to teach me. Now let me learn from the man."
Darwin closed his eyes. Tension seemed to flow out of him - he relaxed, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. She sensed the shift in his aether, knew he'd just released Iron Will. He took a deep breath, opened his eyes - bright, glittering - and grinned winsomely up at her.
She smiled as he rested his hands on her hips. She sighed, a mixture of happiness and relief.
He took her hand and guided her up the embankment - towards their bags, their shields, their swords. She picked up her gauntlets and followed, animated by an eagerness that she had never felt before.
He'd brought a blanket - more like a square of treated canvas, really. Something for them to sit on while they ate lunch. Braya would be here with that around midsun, hopefully. That meant they had some time, though not a luxurious amount of it.
Jacinthe helped Darwin unfold the blanket, helped him lay it down in the glade - on the grass, under the trees. The air was warm; the breeze was gentle. The world around them was thick and green and beautiful. Endlessly verdant. Bright in the sun, almost unfathomably dark beneath the canopy. She took a moment to see the Shroud, to feel it around her - the subtle flow of aether, the glacial ripples and waves of the Elementals. Faint and fading, but still present, still visible if one knew what to look for and how to look for it. Braya had taught her, one day after training.
They weighted the canvas with their shields and packs; they made sure their swords were secure in their scabbards and within easy reach.
As she was rubbing some mud off of her gauntlets with a bit of grass she heard a clank, a thunk. She turned to behold Darwin, already out of the bulk of his armor, untying the lacing that held his leather body glove together. She helped him take off the padded vest, helped him out of the glove. She held the finely crafted assembly of leather and cloth to her nose and inhaled deeply as he unbuckled his greaves, as he slid off his boots. His scent was intoxicating - she had always enjoyed his smell but now, this close... mmm. She shuddered, felt herself begin to slicken.
He stood before her in loose-fitting slops, his armor piled to the side of the canvas, next to his shield. Her gaze lingered appreciatively over his torso, his chest - firm, well-defined, with a few scars here and there. He smiled, blushed slightly as she reached out with a tentative hand, as she gently brushed his chest, her fingertips delighting in the coarseness of his body hair. From below his collarbone down to his slops, stretching out along the bottom of his pectorals, his chest hair formed a dark, sparse, cross-shaped pattern. A shape she wanted to explore - with her fingers, with her tongue. She looked up from his chest, held his gaze, stroked his cheek - thicker, denser. Prickly - a world away from Roehbryda's smooth jade skin.
She closed her eyes, held her arms up as he reached under her arms, as he began to unbuckle her breastplate. Quickly, expertly - she felt herself grow lighter as metal was lifted away, as leather was loosened. She shrugged out of the padding, out of the glove as he loosened her greaves. Soon she was barefoot, unfastening her slops, stepping out of them, standing before him in her smalls, her nipples stiffening with excitement.
She let him look for a moment, flushing slightly as his eyes lingered over her taught belly, her soft breasts. Then she knelt, took off her glasses, carefully tucked them into a pocket in her pack. She let down her hair, placed the pins and ribbon that had held it up in another pocket. She smiled as she felt his fingers cautiously caress her back, her bottom. She turned, still on her knees, and looked up at him, smiling.
She wanted to see him.
She reached out, unfastened his slops, guided them down his thighs, over his calves. He stepped out of them, the bulge in his smalls growing as he gazed down at her.
It seemed to grow larger as she sat back, unhooked her top, cast it aside. She looked up, smiled bashfully, hooked her fingers under the hem of his smalls and guided them down, freeing his length.
He was about Roehbryda's size. A little larger, maybe. Pinker. Firmer, with thicker veins. His slick was thicker and cloudier - almost white. His hair was thicker, coarser... she leaned close, moaned and shuddered as she breathed in, inhaled his scent. Rich, musky - a mix of sweat and slick and readiness and she closed her eyes, shuddered in anticipation. She felt his fingers combing through her hair, stroking the length of her ears, the sides of her neck. She opened her eyes to find him kneeling before her, his length curving upwards excitedly between his thighs, tip covered in slick. A sharp contrast to his countenance - cautious, reserved. Concerned.
"Are you sure this is something yo-"
"Yes." She lunged forward, cut him off with a kiss. She guided him backwards, downwards, wriggled her hips as he pulled her smalls down, as she covered his neck and shoulders and ears with a flurry of kisses, of playful nips.
He moaned, embraced her, held her tightly. She gasped delightedly as he took control - rolling, turning. He was on top, the underside of his length rubbing her mound, his slick sticking to her hair as he gazed down at her, lust smoldering brightly in his eyes.
"Lower," she moaned, "I need to feel you."
He leaned down for a kiss, his stubble tickling her cheeks, her upper lip. She giggled, laughed, kissed the tip of his nose as she rubbed her hands over his back, as she kicked her smalls off, as she hooked her calves around his thighs. She hummed happily as he brushed her entrance with his tip; she groaned lustily as he rubbed her entrance slowly, languidly.
Was he teasing her? Or inviting her?
She was ready for him. She needed him.
She reached down, gently gripped his length, and carefully guided him inside her.
He was slow. Gentle. Considerate. She relaxed, opened herself to him, felt the lumps and gentle irregularities of the grass beneath the canvas melt away as she focused on his skin, his hair, his sweat. His breathing reminded her of the ocean - measured, evenly paced. Quiet, restrained, and capable of so much more. He was practiced, proficient; she was eager, inexperienced - willing to let him set the pace, willing to let him teach her what he knew.
He knew how to find the right angle - he carefully coaxed her to roll her hips, to cant her pelvis upwards. He knew how to tell her what he liked - with a familiar language of hums, of moans, of similar tones of voice. He taught her to keep her calves hooked around his thighs. He taught her that her breasts and neck were very responsive to a deliberate, feather-light touch. The pads of his fingertips were light, barely perceptible. Like the wind - tightening her skin, hardening her nipples. Making her ache, making her cry out for more.
He withdrew, leaned forward, silenced her with a kiss.
Indecision! She wanted his tongue in her mouth, she wanted his length inside her. He was above average height for a midlander, yet nearly a head shorter than she was - he could give her one, or the other, but not both. For now the kiss felt right, for now the kiss was all that mattered - she explored his lips and tongue, she shared his breath, she lost herself in his scent as she pressed her right hand into his back, as she grasped his length with her left. He was slick - sticky, thick.
There was a time - before she met Roehbryda, before she'd spoken her name - when slick had disgusted her, when length had disgusted her. Then it had felt wrong, unnatural. Here, now... his length in her hand, his slick on her fingers... it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
This was how it was supposed to be.
"Slower," he whispered. "Slower." He took her wrist in his hand, applied gentle pressure, eased her eager tugs to slow, languid strokes as he traced the length of her right ear with his tongue. She shivered, pulled him downward with her right hand, pressed her nipples into his chest. His hair tickled - she suppressed the urge to laugh, let the giggle out in the form of a contented, lilting hum.
"I should have asked earlier..." He thrust himself into her hand, licked the length of her left ear. "Where would you like me to spend? Off to the side?" He patted the canvas. "Here, maybe?" His hand, on her belly - she sighed; she moaned. "Or here?" She yelped with delight as his fingers teased her pearl. He stroked her folds, quickened his pace, covered her hand with his slick. "Or maybe here?" He kissed her, tongue dancing across her teeth.
"Take your time." He whispered into her right ear, dragged his tongue across the length of it. He bucked slowly in her hand; she moaned as he lavished her long, graceful neck with a flurry of kisses.
She ached for him. Deep inside, she needed him - but it was her mouth that felt empty, it was her mouth that yearned to be filled.
Oh, but it was so tempting to stay where she was... under him, holding him. She felt safe, she felt protected. That was what she had been aching for; that was what she had hoped he would give her.
She luxuriated in that feeling for a long moment - his heat, his scent, the slow slick pulse of his length.
Slowly, carefully, she sat up. She guided him upwards, backwards; she released his length as she slid her long legs out from under him. She pressed his chest with her palms, whispered "lie down" as she guided him back, as she took his length in her hand again. She leaned forward, kissed him gently as he cupped her breasts, moaned as he stroked her nipples with his thumbs. She lowered herself, backed up slowly, kissed his lips, his chin, his neck, his chest. She massaged his thighs, dragged her tongue slowly over his abdomen, finally found herself where she wanted to be - on her knees in front of him, her mouth mere ilms from his length.
This was what she needed - to give herself to someone she trusted. Someone who made her feel safe. Someone who could protect her, who had taught her how to protect others.
She hummed happily as she took him into her mouth, as she tasted him. Thick, pungent, almost overpowering - she nearly spit him out. She released him, took a breath, then slowly took him again - ready for the taste this time, eager for the texture of his slick, of his skin.
She slid her arms under his legs, hugged his thighs, moaned happily as she felt his heels caress her flanks. She moaned again - louder, happier - as he stroked her ears, as he combed his fingers through her hair. His touch was light - he let her control the pace, the depth. With a little practice she took him to his hilt; with a little more practice she learned that he preferred his tip in her mouth, her tongue exploring the underside of his length. She learned that he moaned like she did - that he was close, that she was bringing him closer, and closer, and there! There he was! Gasping, holding her head in place with his hands as he thrust into her mouth, as he filled her. She choked, gagged, did her best to swallow - his spend was thick, it was so thick. It quickly covered her tongue, her lips, dripped and drizzled onto his stones.
She coughed, gasped, released him as he stroked her hair. She withdrew, connected to him for a moment by a quickly thinning rope of spend. It snapped, splashed onto his thigh. She lapped it up, wiped her lips, returned to his length - carefully cleaning him with her tongue. Darwin moaned with surprise, with pleasure and delight. He sat up, looked down at her, rubbed her ears. She gazed up at him; he smiled down at her. She returned his smile, murmured a quiet "thank you," and curled up to the left of him on the canvas. His chest warmed her back and shoulders as he embraced her, shielded her. He kissed the back of her ear, rubbed her chest and belly as they relaxed, as they enjoyed the gentle warmth of the sun streaming through the trees around the edge of the glade.
The warmth and quiet of the Shroud surrounded them - the buzz of insects, the chirping of birds. The flicker of squirrels through the branches, startling a blue deer in the distance.
His breath tickled the back of her ear. His coarse hair tickled her neck, her back. How it had felt to have hair like that and how it felt to feel hair like that...
She appreciated his masculinity. Those traits, those characteristics... they had never felt like they belonged to her, they had never been right for her. But now... in his arms, in his warmth... the contrast between their bodies, between his body and her body...
Mmm.
"Oh!" Quiet, surprised, as his hand danced down her torso, over her mound. She gasped as his fingers cautiously rubbed her pearl, as he teased her slick entrance. She moaned quietly as he slid his middle and ring fingers into her, moaned loudly as he began to stroke, to explore. She told him how she felt with hums, with moans, with a loud, quavering groan as he touched just the right part of her in just the right way... for just the right amount of time.
"How..." An awed, disbelieving gasp was the best she could manage; she was too overwhelmed to complete the thought.
"I taught him that."
Braya - from behind them, from the stream. Her approach masked by the burble of water, by the song of the birds.
Darwin stopped, chuckled quietly in Jacinthe's ear. She closed her eyes, rolled onto her back, sighed as his fingers slowly withdrew.
"Good morning, Braya." She smiled at the ease, the charm, in his voice. The canvas blanket shifted slightly as he sat up.
A gentle crunching and snapping - small feet on twigs.
The Conjurer's voice sounded tight, conflicted. "I brought lunch. I... uh... should probably leave it and give you two some more alone time." A quite rustling - Braya's picnic basket, coming to rest on the canvas.
A moment, then - "Twelve above... I'm sure you've heard this before, but... Jacinthe, you are a very beautiful woman."
A pause, then the Conjurer spoke again - slowly, haltingly. "I don't know which one of you I envy more. I'll be back in half a bell or so."
Jacinthe opened her eyes, sat up, looked up at her friend - she had turned away from them, had pulled the wide floppy brim of her hat down, blocking her view of the skyclad Paladins. "Braya... please, stay." It was her turn to pause, to feel awkward. "I'd like to know what you meant by that." She nodded to Darwin, smiled gratefully as he draped his shirt over her shoulders. He seemed to be more worried than embarrassed... and he was in no hurry to cover himself.
Braya turned slightly, kept her face hidden. "I like Darwin. Maybe for some of the same reasons that you do. I see that he likes you, too. I shouldn't feel jealous. We're not bonded. We're close, but we've never talked about being the kind of close that would merit feeling... what I'm feeling right now. I'm sorry. I should go."
The Conjurer seemed to be rooted in place.
"My interest in Darwin isn't romantic," Jacinthe smiled reassuringly. She glanced shyly at him, felt herself blush. "I needed comfort. I... all but begged him for it, honestly. And as I am no longer his student... he kindly provided it." He found her hand with his, squeezed it, smiled warmly. He was clearly concerned for Braya, but unsure of what to say, or how to say it. "I sensed there was something between you but... you never speak of it, and my need blinded me to it."
"We're more than friends." Darwin spoke softly, warmly, as he gazed up at Braya. "But we're more friends than we are anything else... I think?"
Braya nodded. She released the brim of her hat, looked down at Darwin with tears in her eyes. "Friends who swive when the stars align." The Conjurer smiled a small, complicated smile. "I think..." She buried her face in her hands for a moment, sighed. "I think it's you that I'm jealous of, Darwin. Jacinthe, if you need comfort... oh, I would love to comfort you." Braya blushed, tried to figure out what to do with her hands. She stiffened, made eye contact with Jacinthe - shocked, surprised. "Wait, what do you mean, you're no longer his student?!"
"Jac has graduated." Darwin smiled proudly. "She performed Hallowed Ground flawlessly, on the first try. She told me she saw some of it in an Echo. All she really needed from me was the first part of the opening."
"You were supposed to wait until I got here so I could heal you if anything went wrong!" There was an edge to Braya's voice now - a genuine anger.
"Yes, well... I started on the fundamentals like I usually do. It usually takes several bells for a student to work from Rampart and Sentinel up to Hallowed Ground. I wasn't expecting her to grasp it so quickly. And of course I had to test that grasp..." Darwin grinned bashfully.
Jacinthe wanted to rub her hands across his chest. She wanted to feel his hair, his sweat. "It's a good thing I figured it out so fast, really. You did try to cut my head off."
Braya's eyes widened; her face tensed into an alarmed glare.
"Twice," Darwin admitted. "I was confident that if you wavered I'd be able to stop before doing serious damage." He grinned guiltily at Jacinthe, turned his attention to Braya. "I knew you'd be along shortly. I was just... ah... expecting us to be rather more clothed when you showed up. But it turned out that Jac needed more than instruction from me. I thought to ask her about how Roehbryda might feel about this, but I didn't think about how you might react if - when - you walked up on us. I apologize for failing to consider how you might feel, Braya."
"Apology accepted." The Conjurer smiled weakly.
"In my defense, I didn't know you had feelings for Jacinthe. If I had, I would have asked her to wait until you arrived." Darwin winked; Braya blushed. "Please, sit down. Join us!" He smiled winsomely, beckoned to her, shifted uncertainly on the blanket - willing to move, if she indicated a desire for him to do so.
"If I had known, I would have asked Roehbryda how she might feel about me exploring those feelings with you," Jacinthe admitted. "As it is, I've only talked to her about my attraction to Darwin." She smiled up at Braya as she ilmed to her right, rubbing her thigh against Darwin's as she patted the blanket to her left. She wanted to feel him again, wanted to ride his length, but the revelation that Braya thought she was beautiful confused her, made her head spin.
"That's how things are with the two of you, huh?" Braya doffed her hat, set it on top of Darwin's pack. She toed off her boots, glanced down at Darwin, studied Jacinthe for a moment. With a smooth, practiced motion she shrugged out of her robe, pulled it over her head, folded it into thirds and set it on top of the Free Paladin's armor. Clad in dark tights and a white small top, she picked up her picnic basket and sat down next to Jacinthe, placing the hamper between her feet.
"What?" She looked up at Jacinthe and Darwin, smiled winsomely. "I'm not going to ask you two to put your clothes on. But if we're not doing anything, I'm not taking all of mine off, either." She opened the lid of the basket, withdrew a trio of squarish objects wrapped in wax paper. She handed two to Jacinthe, made eye contact with her, nodded to the scruffy Midlander next to her.
Jacinthe took one and handed the other to Darwin. She unwrapped an edge, hummed appreciatively at the sight of cheese, lettuce, and some sort of roasted meat sandwiched between two thick slabs of fresh baked bread. She gave the package a cautious sniff, then unwrapped it halfway and took a bite.
As she chewed, Darwin and Braya unwrapped their sandwiches, bit into them. Darwin hummed appreciatively.
"This is good!" Jacinthe nodded, smiled to Braya. "As for how things are... I'm not sure, honestly. I love Roehbryda, and I intend to always be honest with her. I told her about my attraction to Darwin when I was struggling to understand what I was feeling; she encouraged me to explore it. I suppose I have." The Duskwight smiled timidly, blushed a beautiful shade of lavender. "That feeling is very..." She took another bite of her sandwich, chewed, thought. "... I suppose you could say it's how a woman feels about a man, maybe? It's... not how I feel about Roehbryda. It's more... animal, I guess. Like it's my body that needs him, not my heart or my mind."
"Hmm." Darwin was halfway through his sandwich. "I want to say something like 'that explains a lot' but you'll probably slap me." He leaned away, raised his left arm, protected his face as both women looked at him. After a brief slap-free moment, he relaxed. "You were in a tough spot, Jac. I hope you feel better now. If you don't, well..." He grinned rakishly. "... I'm here to help."
Jacinthe kissed him tenderly on the cheek, giggled as he blushed, as he looked away. "I do feel better. Especially after you did that thing that Braya said she taught you. I needed you, Darwin. I did not expect you to tend to me in return. That felt... good."
"I'm glad to hear it," Braya grinned. "That's just one technique. I'd be happy to show you what else I know. After you get your wife's approval, of course." She giggled, smiled lasciviously at Jacinthe.
"It may be some time, honestly." Jacinthe's countenance clouded. She looked down at her sandwich, held it at arms length, looked away from it as if she'd just lost her appetite. "After we're done here I have to head back to the Waking Sands. The counteroffensive against the Empire is almost ready, and, uh... they can't start without me. I guess part of why I wanted one last lesson from Darwin was... every bell I spend with the two of you is a bell I don't have to risk my life. I don't know how long I'll be gone or if we'll succeed or even if I'll come back. And the thought of that makes me feel..."
The Warrior of Light closed her eyes, sighed. She rested her head on Darwin's shoulder. Tears welled in her eyes, ran down her cheeks, dripped onto his skin as Braya rubbed her back, as Darwin rubbed her knee.
"...like you need the comfort of a big handsome Paladin?" Braya grinned, patted Jacinthe's back.
"Yes." Jacinthe nodded weakly. She sat up straight, sniffed, wiped her eyes. "I don't think I could do this without you. Both of you." She took Braya's right hand in her left, Darwin's left hand in her right, squeezed them lovingly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You'd probably be eating lunch with your clothes on," Darwin observed.
"And having very different conversations with your wife." Braya pulled bottles of white grape juice out of the basket, uncorked one, passed it to The Warrior of Light. She passed another to Darwin - he tugged at the cork with his teeth, handed it back to her, drained half of the bottle in a single long gulp.
Jacinthe took another bite of her sandwich, washed it down with a sip of the fruit juice - the flavor was light, refreshing. Just what she needed.
"I suppose you're right," she laughed. "My life would be a lot less enjoyable without the two of you in it. Thank you for being here for me."
Braya uncorked her bottle, held it up, canted it towards Jacinthe. "Here's to friendship."
"Friendship... and skyclad lunch." Darwin canted his bottle towards Jacinthe's.
The Warrior of Light tilted her bottle forward. "To friendship," she smiled.
The sound of glass clinking rang brightly through the glade, followed by peals of laughter.