#defortemp

Finding herself in his chambers had been nearly half a miracle.

Ever since that encounter with him, blade to fist, then his arms around her, Emmanellain could not escape her thoughts. Strange to have anything aside from the goal of strength at hand, her body had taken to instead grounding itself into shards against the training dummies and enemies outside the borders of Ishgard. Bloodied, bruised, every time she would come back to spend a little time with the youngest Fortemps, just able to jest and relish in his company.

It had been many, many moons after that, when she had returned to Ishgard from her excursion to the other shard, his company yearned for beyond the kisses they had shared before her departure. Her intent had been alike any other time to spend with him, breaking down the walls that she threw up to keep herself from divulging any weakness before anyway, but impassionate kisses gave way to carnal desires, the very fiber of her being missing him. His touch, his breath, everything that made Emman exactly why he was.

And she burned for more, needed to feel skin to skin.

His shyness had never bothered her beyond the walls of the chamber, but now, exposed and prostrated before him, her own well of anxiety began to rise in her stomach. All until finally, his name left her lips alongside the reassurances that broke down both of their insecurities.

A pain, but not like any other. It felt pleasant, sending warmth throughout her system, his name uttered once more, a rising passion mounting into something unfamiliar that she wished to grasp at. Koya whimpered, every ilm of strength leaving her to swell in this feeling he gave her, he could have done anything he wished and she would have accepted without complaint. “E-emman…!”

Her trill cut short with his sudden pull away from her, the heat increasing inside of her suddenly vanishing and replaced with the sticky shot upon her thigh. Surprise illuminated her face as he seemed to wish to clean it, did what he could, then flopped beside her, the humiliation exuding off his form.

She barely had enough time to fully access what had happened, and when it finally clicked, her rosy cheeks turned brighter.

Pulling up a stray sheet to cover her aroused state, her frame shifted onto the side, staring at Emman as he continued to mumble his apologies into the pillow. Embarrassment tugged at her to simply vanish from the room and go expend the excess energy upon a training dummy, but rather she kept her place. Lifting a hand to grab a fist full of the cushion and lift it from his features, her pale blue eyes were direct upon him before shifting away nervously.

“Shut up.” It didn’t have the hard edge to it, almost reassuring in a way as she nestled herself closer, throwing the pillow up further on the bed above their heads so he would not be able to easily reach immediately. Lips came to press against his cheek as she kept her gaze trained away from him, almost uncertain of what else to do. To say.

Words were never the strong suite for either of them.

“I don’t…know much about all of this shit, but…I doubt this was fuckin’ right.” She breathed out, pursing her lips briefly before shifting her eyes to finally look at him. “But…right before, well, th-that. It felt nice, and I don’t know what fuckin’ happened but…” Oh, this was incredibly difficult, each word tossing in her head as she tried to figure out some semblance of what to make of their minute love making that had occurred.

Could it even be called that for what had just happened?

A couple sketches for some pieces i want to do but i've been too busy not doing them >>;;

Feat. G'raha( @crystaliiize )and M'firhi, Haurchefant (@neigetomb) and M'firhi, and Artoirel (@defortemp) and Sigun

It had come wholly as a surprise for her, the sudden sickness that would overwhelm her and interrupt any and all movement she had to wretch was one of the first indicators. It had coupled with the tenderness she was not accustomed to across her chest, causing mild panic in the woman. After all, if she was ill, how could she stand tall to fight? Despite it, she had kept it hidden for weeks, until Y’shtola had made an offhanded comment about the aetheric signals.

How despite her condensed soul was as it always was beyond the trip to the First, there was now a new one swirling inside her belly. That she ought to return to Camp Dragonhead to inform whom had put it inside of her of the development.

Rubbing the back of her neck beneath her ponytail, Koya’s gaze shifted away to the ground, her countenance a crimson hue. “I’m not fuckin’ lyin’ about somethin’ like this.” The rough words came out softly, more embarrassed than actually upset. “Y’shtola said it was probably about five or six weeks now, so…uh, not the last time I was here, but…”

The mention of his father perked her gaze to meet his own before her heart sunk down to meet with the child in question. Of course he was going to be thinking of Edmont at this moment, how he had been so fearful of this. How Koya had been so sure that it couldn’t happen.

Turning on her heel, flipping the long ponytail towards him as she faced away, her head dipping to hide the disappointment on her features from him. “He doesn’t have to know, I just came to tell you.” The fact that he was not happy didn’t surprise her; even she didn’t know how to feel about the situation herself. A calloused hand came to rest upon her stomach, she ready to leave.

“Don’t worry about it, Emman.” She breathed, her chin tilting so just the edge of her face could be seen by him. “I’ll take care of this, and you don’t have to…” Her voice died, unable to continue her thought. Bother with her anymore. The love she harbored for him stabbed her heart, but even Koya knew what was important to him: the standing before his family and the houses.

    “Artoirel, are you sure you wish to do this?” To have Lord Artoirel  visit wasn’t anything out of the norm. In the last few years they had become quite close, but it was on the manner of subject that threw him off. Was he seriously wanting to join in the world battle, a fray not for the soft of heart and one far from their homeland...their dealings with the dragons before were minuscule compared to the ravaging bloodlust of the Empire.

Merry Christmas Happy Starlight!

@defortemp​​ asked: "I - ..." Emmanellain fumbled, ears already turning a shade of red that denoted his embarrassment. He opened his mouth again, floundering, "I didn't know - what you'd like for Starlight, however! I have paid for a lance sharpening and cleaning at the armory, if - ... that pleases you." It was one less minuscule task Koya would have to tend to herself, and left her open to enjoy a meal and a rest before her adventure carried her elsewhere. "If not - ... you can ask for a refund," he mumbled, reaching up to scratch his nose sheepishly. / C:<

Emmanellain was one of the few men that Koya was able to look up to, physically. His voice garnered her attention, chin lifting so blue could meet blue, stirring a smile across her mien without realization, the timing beyond perfect as she had made her way down the winding paths of Ishgard, headed towards the Fortemps manor. Under her arm was a small box, wrapped in brown paper and seemed nothing more than a simple parcel in its appearance, it remaining there as she encroached upon his form, awaiting greeting and the reason behind his reddening ears.

The news itself—a gift—was something the smeared her smile, instead lips dropping apart in surprise, certainly eliciting his amendment to the offering. Koya’s hip cocked, her hand placed on the shifted curve, brows furrowing some. “You know why I haven’t been usin’ my lance lately?” She questioned, her voice a notch above seriousness before her beam broke out again.

“Because it had gotten dull!” She answered before he could flounder for an answer, her elation over it clear as day. “No way am I goin’ to refund somethin’ fuckin’ great like that. It’s perfect!” Koya was nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement, the shifting of weight making her remember the package at her side, a glance shifting down to it as she settled fully on her soles.

“Man, it makes this stuff seem not enough.” A pout formed to her lips before she shifted her arms some, offering up the box towards him. “I didn’t know what you’d like either, but uh…I tried my best!” She almost sounded akin to boasting, a small puff of breath escaping her with confidence as she let him take it from her fingers.

Within was two gifts, one in a much smaller white box that was encircled by what appeared to be a leather bracelet. The smaller gift could be easily opened to reveal the linkpearl that lay within. Pristine and glimmering with a faint blue light, it was already operational. The leather band, however, rough around the edges, certainly handmade and not perfect in the least, but had an etching of what appeared to be akin to a feather pattern all along the outer edge of it.

A hand lifted up to rest under her ponytail, a sheepish expression causing her gaze to drift from his own, a small dusting of pink that could have been attributed to the cold coming to her cheeks. “I, uh, figured you needed your own linkpearl, so when I’m not in town, you can reach me. You know, if you wanted to talk, or somethin’. Or just, see what’s goin’ on.” Rubbing along the nape of her neck, Koya shifted her hips some, as if the posture itself would rise up the courage in her once more.

“And the other thin’ is an armlet you can wear under your sleeve. It has a phoenix feather inside of it—don’t ask how I got that—and should feel warm whenever you need it to.” Specifically made with one of Suzaku’s feathers, it was tied to his heart and the feelings there, Koya could feel a burn rising up her cheeks. “It’s only got a little magic in it, might’ve nearly conked out once tryin’ to fill it with mana, but that’s not important.” Her hand waved dismissively at the idea. “It’d be better if it had more and you can probably take it to a mage to do the trick if you really want to.”

Her fists were slackened towards her sides as he spoke, her grin stretched with gleaming hubris at the victory she had achieved over the man. He had done well despite her overwhelming strength, and his encroach upon her was not unexpected for a post-sparring conversation, Koya’s guard depleted in his presence.

Which only meant that he was able to coil his arms around her without any resistance, her pale optics widening as the smile diminished in the wake of a rush of crimson across her cheeks. Feet lifted with ease, arms pinned to her sides as fingers stretched out in pure shock and rush of contact that she had not expected.

So accustomed to the hard hits of foes, such a sweet embrace nearly knocked the wind out of her.

Being placed down, she fumbled for a moment, hand coming up to her gaze in an attempt to hide it and the rouge spreading across her features. “F-fuck, y-yeah,” her voice wavered, unable to entirely eclipse how such a gesture had thrown her off. “Y-you did well, kinda of, I m-mean, you’d be good in a fight against anyone and probably win if it wasn’t me.” Turning, her head dipped some, trying to calm her racing heart.

Haurchefant had been tittering with the desire to accompany Ysayle directly to the gathering—not so much akin to a date as many mayhap assumed—but rather to bear witness to the fall of a man who was terribly young in years to realize the price his hubris had taken and the amount that his dear half-brother was more than willing to pay the toll. She had more than enough of the ammunition to fell a beast, much less the youthful lord that seemed surprised to see her at former fallen knight’s side.

The pleasantries are quite nice, the woman adorning a gown akin to colors that normally wrapped her frame, long and royal in hue, her name falling off of Haurchefant’s tongue with alluring humor at the situation that was to be. “I have not heard much about you,” she began, extending a hand out towards the lord, icy eyes locked upon his own. “But I am privy to your vast inquisitiveness.”

It was then that the conversation had twisted from her, Emmanellain’s face filled with the horrors of realization that he had been betrayed by the man at Ysayle’s side, the amusement of such a spectacle able to tug chortles of mirth from her lips. As she took a step forward, the young man clearly drowning in poor, poor embarrassment, she placed a hand over her chest, her smile almost kind, if it were not for the mischievous glint resting within her gaze.

“There were those within the heretics who harbored such inquiries, however, it merely landed them out in the cold without a drop of warmth for a day.” Leaning in, silver hair dribbled over the front of her shoulder, nearly brushing against Emmanelliain’s coat with the small sway between them, lips near his reddening ear with a breathy whisper. “Is there a punishment that might suit your needs?”

@defortemp​ said: He had returned. He had come back, and although Artoirel was more than aware that Khaida had lost many on his way back to the manor, relief rushed through his being. For just a moment, he ignored all politeness and what was right or wrong - planting his hands on either side of Khai's jaw and brushing their foreheads together. "I am - happy you returned to me," he spoke softly. And then - the smallest kiss on Khai's forehead, before he withdrew.

unpromted // always accepting

     Khaida can’t recall ever having received such a welcome. In that moment, while gentle hands cup his face and Artoirel is close enough to reach out and hold, the Au Ra feels the weights in his chest ease. All of those he’d lost...all of those he’d failed on his way back to this city, this manor, this man-- he carries them with him wherever he goes. He can’t set them down, can’t forget them, but here, like this, they do not feel nearly as likely to crush him. 

What an amazing man Artoirel is, to be able to save a so-called savior with nothing more than a touch. 

Blue eyes close as the elezen’s lips find his brow and it takes only that fleeting press of a kiss for a low purr to rumble from the depths of Khaida’s chest. As Artoirel withdraws, the Au Ra’s hands follow, settling at his lover’s hips to pull him back once again. Scaled arms wrap their way around the other man, holding him just for a moment longer before allowing him his originally planned retreat. 

It was a selfish thing to do, but he doubted he could have resisted, even if he had tried.