#{faval muse}

F = Favorite Position

Probably lifted missionary and standing with his partner laying down. He’s pretty vanilla and not really interested in anything over the top.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

A little chuckly, but definitely a cuddle type. A bit of a talker while he and his partner wait to fall asleep, but also a good time to talk about every day life for him. Occasionally the “plans for next time” kind of guy, just to keep it different and enjoyable. If it’s just evening or earlier or sexual activity, then he’ll just lay with his partner for a while before getting up to resume normal activity. Sex isn’t a big thought for him and not something he’d put priority on, but he wouldn’t rush it or make it typical and always the same.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Mostly quiet, and most of the sounds made are probably just breathing and small talk. He’s not the type to try dirty talk for turn ons, but mostly to make his partner comfortable. Likely, he’d really only get loud at the end, and it wouldn’t too bad. Faval would have good control over whether things are getting too loud.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

It caught her off guard with what the boy said, as to a common townswoman like her—that phrase sounded it carried with solid certainty of what he was talking about, that there was something he knew what the swordswoman had not figured out yet.

There was another half a minute pause, her gaze fixed on the blond’s face, searching for any clues to respond with. Eyvel’s eyes landed on the noble bow, a bow far grander than any she had seen and she had only seen a couple of archers in her lifetime here, though the craftsmanship was nothing like the one before her. Must be one of the Holy Crusaders’ weapons… It was the only scenario that made sense to her with that bow’s presence, but the focus wasn’t supposed to linger on that.

The sense of sincerity within this stranger wasn’t something Eyvel could simply ignore, however she had no recollection of ever knowing who the bowman was upon first glance.

   …There’s something off about this meeting…

“Is there any significance to what you’re asking…?”

That question unfortunately told him more than he needed to know. When she saw him, she saw a stranger and nothing more. For a time, Faval had hoped a person of direct descent from the same god would be able to recognize another even at so much as a glance. That was likely just a fantasy though, and his only real hope lied in the wait that she would be able to recognize his features.

Apparently not. It wasn’t that she was trying to sound rude or intended to shatter the hope he’d clung to when he’d heard from Fin that his mother was undoubtedly in this place, but he couldn’t help feeling as though it had been an effort in vain. He couldn’t simply openly tell her the truth... On top of it all, from what he’d heard, this woman had adopted a daughter since she’d gone missing after the Battle of Barhara. How was he supposed to admit the truth to her in a situation like this...?

He couldn’t. At first, he’d expected he’d be able to have the heart to say it, to at least tell her the truth and walk off and move along. Now even the first half of that seemed difficult, and it wouldn’t be fair to separate those two, would it? It wasn’t that she’d thrown him and Patty away, after all. She had forgotten them, and not by choice.