Staying with Fakhri had been different, and she was grateful for that.  It had not entirely been without its hiccups; she suspected he was discomfited by her quietly doing the grocery shopping and perhaps felt like it was a silent judgement of his housekeeping skills.  She was trying to adjust to waking in the night to tiny feet padding over her shoulder as Arak moved around, or finding her tail uncomfortably pinned by one of Fakhri’s legs.  He never said anything, but she imagined it was an adjustment for him, too – to have that same tail tickling his feet or going to stretch and finding her in the way.   His habit of waking in the wee hours and creeping around to avoid sounds that might disturb her sleep always made her feel guilty; much as they both tried to pretend she hadn’t disrupted his routines, it was obvious she had.

Guitar music drifted from the other room, every now and again falling silent as Fakhri paused for a drink or to take a drag from a cigarette.  Her eyes drifted closed as she listened, her lips curving into a smile as her host settled into a song she particularly liked.  She’d nearly walked in on him in the bath, that first week; only a quiet sigh and a splash of water had made her aware that the bathroom was occupied in time to turn around.  Since then, they’d both taken care to give one another as much privacy as possible in such a small space.   He had taken to playing the guitar while she bathed, and while she had always enjoyed a good bath, it hadn’t taken long before she cherished her time in the tub, if only because she could let go and listen.  It was shared intimacy that didn’t tug on the snarled mess of her emotions.

Reaching for the soap with a dripping hand, Seda brought the bar up to her nose and breathed deeply.  The scents of cypress and black walnut, with hints of vetiver curled around her face like a lover’s caress, making her think again of the man sitting a few feet away with his guitar.  She loved it; evergreen and tobacco, threaded with notes of grass and petrichor, it made her think of wild, windswept meadows high in the mountains, the crisp taste of snow and air so clean you could drink it like water.   It made her think of a lean viera hunter in his natural element.

She took a deep breath, reaching for the washcloth as her mental feet taking her again along the path she had been pacing since the kiss in the Shroud.  The care she was taking with him – and he with her – was it the right thing to do, or was she hiding?   She began to wash, hearing Boquet’s smooth, measured voice in her mind.  You’ve had no problems acting on attraction before.  I seem to recall some rather ah… precipitous choices in that arena.  What makes him different?  “He just is,” she muttered under her breath.   In the other room, the music stopped and she froze, ears swiveling.  Had he heard her?  Something scraped, the guitar creaking as his weight shifted with a faint clink of glass.  Moments later, the music resumed and she relaxed.  He must have refilled his drink. 

You need to face this, Kitten.  Her imagination painted the tall elezen sitting on the side of the tub, as they had done when she was small.  He’s an Empath, child.  I’d be surprised if he doesn’t know how you feel better than you do.  Think about how he might feel, watching you wrestle with this?  Perhaps he thinks you don’t want to love him for some reason?  That there may be something about him that doesn’t measure up?

Bocquet’s face was sympathetic and affectionate, their voice kind, but firm.  I’m not saying you should rush into making your relationship physical – but there’s a big difference between going slow out of a desire to ensure compatibility and dragging your feet out of fear.  One shows him respect, the other shows lack of the same.  I do believe the lad has shown he can be trusted to be respectful of your decisions, but you need to decide, not dangle him along until he gives up.”

“That is not what I’m doing!”  She hissed at the washcloth as she scrubbed a foot rather harder than necessary.

Isn’t it?  Bocquet lifted one of their elegant eyebrows at her.  Ask yourself then, why, if you are so uncertain, why you treated the handsome Ishgardian so differently.  You seemed to have no such hesitations there, so I ask again.  Why is Fakhri different?  S’edani, daughter of my heart – remember that you deserve to be happy.  Don’t spend your life punishing yourself for past mistakes.

Seda felt her cheeks flame, the imagined figure of her parent fading as she washed her hair, seeking refuge in vigorous scrubbing until her skin glowed pink, and the initial roil of emotions settled into something she could control.  Climbing out of the tub, she toweled off and dressed in jerky movements that slowed as she growled to the pesky part of her subconscious mind that used Bocquet to force her conscious mind to quit evading. 

Alright.  Fine.  Perhaps it was time to do some soul-searching; she could acknowledge that she’d handle offering refuge from loneliness differently than if deeper emotions were involved.  After all; she’d taken such surcease herself before, and parted as friends.

But if it were to be more – Fakhri had mentioned seeing the seed for himself, but had that changed, now that he’d hate a taste of what living with her was like?  She had been avoiding the introspection on her own emotions for fear what she might find; was she causing him pain or feelings of rejection?  If she admitted that she was falling in love with him – Falling? That internal voice sneered. Girl you already hit the ground.  Hard. – What would change?   Her cheeks heated as she considered that their nights might become considerably less chaste; her chest felt tight and butterflies soared in her stomach at the thought – but would that be a problem, truly?

Perhaps it was time to consider why she was afraid he wouldn’t be there to catch her, should she take the leap.  Twisting her hair into a messy bun, she smoothed her hands over her hips and stepped out of the bathroom, her damp hair clinging her skin in curling tendrils.   Paradox.  Her breathing steadied at the thought of the card she had seen come up so much in his Readings.  Well, that was a good thought.

Fahkri looked up when she emerged, his smile fading when he saw her expression and caught a hint of her earlier agitation.

Before he could ask what was wrong, she spoke into the fading notes of the guitar.

“Will you do a Reading for me?”