#hathir

having fun on picrew today, so here’s my yuan-ti pureblood wizard, hathir, and my storm sorcerer makara!

Settie Taethath Serdanhia&Adept Hathir Sauros

Photo: Windseeker Arts

Summary:

Hathir takes the opportunity to tease Taethath when he sees that her sleeves have fallen on her work-shirt.

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“Ugh!” Taethath let go of the huge plank of Stonewood she was hauling with an exertive grunt. The square was nearly rebuilt, high above its original location on the forest floor, but there were still weeks left of work, and it was the height of summer. Waves of heat rose from the already-inlaid wood, as if it were frying.

Taethath rolled her shoulders back in an attempt to stretch her muscles, and a bead of sweat dripped down her back and made her crinkle her nose from the bizarre sensation. The collar of her plainspun worker’s tunic and kerchief were totally drenched and the tie that held back her sleeves was coming undone after a morning full of work.

“Aah, Taethath,” a voice from behind said, muffled by the din of construction around them. “Let me help.” Taethath wasn’t a gambler, but she bet it was Hathir, using her given name flippantly like that.

Taethath managed to turn half-way around before nearly bashing her face into his shoulder.

“It looks as if the fit of your sleeves could use some augmentation,” Hathir said a little too loudly as if to provide an excuse for his proximity, already untying the bow that hung lazily near her shoulder. He was in similar garb in a deeper grey; everyone was working on the reconstruction of the city and were provided what to wear to their details. Although they were clothes for the laborious Houses, the simple lines suited him.

Taethath couldn’t will words to come out of her mouth to protest. Her guts felt like mush. Normally strong-willed, mouthy, and quick with a retort, around him she was timid, no matter how hard she tried to say something witty in reply.

“You won’t be able to work well if your uniform doesn’t fit properly,” Hathir said, softer now, slipping in an informal contraction, since they weren’t within earshot of anyone.” He passed the white woolen tie around the back her neck and under her other arm. “And the sooner we’re finished, the sooner we can go back to school,” he said, punctuating the end with the final tug of the closing knot.

“Indeed,” Taethath said, mumbling. She couldn’t bring her eyes up to meet his.

“Your face is red, Taethath. Perhaps you are too warm? …Maybe it’s your kerchief,” Hathir said, and before she knew it, Hathir had removed that too and was holding it out for her to take back, mischief in his eyes.

Taethath gasped and reached up to touch her disheveled, sweaty, completely unpresentable, not to mention exposed hair. Her jaw dropped and stammering, she snatched back her moist kerchief from him, only to squeal with disgust at how squishy it felt in her bare hands, as if it were venomous. It didn’t make it far in the noise of the building site, but it was piercing enough to draw the gaze of those elves close by.

Hathir was already a full three steps away by the time Taethath collected herself to say anything.