Fantasy All's Fair

[Conifer]

Remin held Cyeria close as she fell back into sleep - it was impressive, really, how quickly she'd dozed back off. Remin wondered how much of that was was the sedatives and injuries, and how much of that wassimply her being a soldier; she'd heard some of the castle guards who had retired from the military commenting on how they could just fall asleep anywhere - and then, when she was little, she'd made a game of it. She'd caught Sivon asleep on duty once, standing up as straight as if they were wide awake (and hadn't told a soul, obviously. She didn't want to ruin her game, and she liked Sivon. Even as young as she'd been, she knew that wasn't something that would shine favorably on them if she'd told anyone.)
It didn't matter, she supposed; Cyeria needed the rest, and she was more than happy to hold her as she did so. It was easier, here, than it had been on the opposite side of the carriage. She could feel Cyeria's warmth against her thighs and see more easily the rise and fall of her chest. There was color back in her cheeks - it looked more like rest than a deathbed.

The window still offered little entertainment, but Remin didn't dare finding anything else to busy herself with for worry of waking Cyeria with her movement. There was enough, at least, that it filled the last short amount of time until the familiar lights of the small town that surrounded the castle came into view, and then the familiar dark shape of the castle itself, with its walls and its towers and the light spilling from thin windows. Home. Finally home.

Remin couldn't help but laugh at Cyeria's overeagerness to get out of the carriage, but she felt much the same way. The last bit of journey had been too long, but somehow these last moments before they could finally truly rest were the worst. "Yes, yes," She murmurs, sliding a supporting arm under her waist. "Come on."
It's a bit of an attempt to get her out of the carriage, but they manage it. It only took a quick word to one of the staff to take care of Maric; they'd put him in a room and deal with that whole mess in the morning. It was far too late.

It was just as much a process to get Cyeria up to bed - /their/ bed, the one they hadn't even shared yet. Gods. There was some exciting thrill in that, that they could share it now, and truly want to share it. It was for the best that Cyeria'd been too --scared to? stubborn to? the first night. Now it just...somehow meant so much more, even if it was just a bed in a room. "...do you think you're alright to dress yourself for bed?" She asks softly, hesitating, as soon as she's helped Cyeria to the edge of the soft, large bed. If she had her say, they'd take up so little of it; Remin had little desire to be far from Cyeria tonight.

 

[Aerynth]

"Why do we even need staircases?" Cyreia complained as Remin helped her climb another set of them. "Everything should just be on the ground floor. I'm sure the staff would welcome that, too." It was a good thing that it was rather late, she supposed, and the castle wasn't crawling with servants. The idea of being seen in this state? Not appealing at all. If anything, it filled her with mild panic. Yes, she was technically home, but the people meant to serve her didn't know her just as she didn't know them. Could they be trusted? How would they handle a display of weakness? Would it be ignored or taken advantage of? Remin was a different story, of course; feeling comfortable here probably came natural to her, having grown up within these walls. Perhaps in time, months or years down the line, something would click for Cyreia and she, too, would reach the same mindset. With some luck, it would gradually turn into a real home and not just a place to dwell in. Was that too much to hope for? Maybe, but since her arrival in Athea, she had gotten greedy. Greedy for all those things she hadn't dared to have back then.

Mostly thanks to Remin, the two managed to stumble their way into the bedroom. Their bedroom. Hadn't she specifically asked for a room of her own before they had left for a journey? Her memory was a bit hazy, but surely Cyreia must have done that. Nothing could have made her sleep next to Remin back then. It had been too risky, too anxiety-inducing. Funny how quickly things changed, really, because if she had her way now, Cyreia would never leave her side. It continued to baffle her that Remin apparently felt the same, if the softness and frequency of her touches were to be any indication. God, what had she done to deserve her? The real answer, of course, was "a lot of terrible things." Cyreia pushed the thought aside. There would be enough time to deal with the guilty conscience later. Years and years of introspection, if she was lucky enough to live so long. Or unlucky enough; that depended on one's perspective.

Instead of dwelling on it, Cyreia turned her attention to the buttons. She tried to undo them, but her fingers were too clumsy for the task; a combination of fatigue and not being able to rely on her dominant hand. God, living like this would be a challenge. The exhaustion, at the very least, should go away soon. "I think I might need some assistance with that, too," she said quietly, suddenly sounding a bit shy. "If-- if you don't mind. I can just as easily sleep like that and figure out how to get changed tomorrow." Sleeping in her travel clothes wouldn't be terrible, honestly, and-- well. Cyreia still felt a bit uncomfortable with Remin seeing her scars. Showing herself to her for that reveal was one thing; back then, her wife had surely focused on things other than... the general aesthetic impression. Her being a woman had kind of taken precedence over that. Nudity in this context, though? In their own bed? That just made her so nervous.

 

[Conifer]

The whole idea of it made Remin only slightly less nervous than it did Cyeria; she'd seen her in a state of nudity, but it was...different. It was different than this - but this was for a purpose too, wasn't it? Either way, she wasn't going to force Cyeria to sleep in her travelling clothes. They were perhaps more comfortable than normal attire, but they were also filthy, with the dirt and the blood. "Here," She murmurs softly, quickly working the buttons free. She couldn't imagne that Cyeria felt much better about this than she did, so she kept her eyes focused on the task rather than the strips of bandaging and skin that pulling the shirt away revealed. It was tricky to pull it free of her bound-up arm, but with some careful movement and some determination, the shirt was off and set over a chair soon enough. "You and your habit of destroying things." Remin teases softly as she reaches for the button on Cyeria's trousers, trying to distract them both from that. There were situations where that was appealing, but...Well. Cyeria was far too injured for any of that, and they were both too exhausted on top of it. This had no ulterior motive, not besides simply helping her be more comfortable. Still, Remin kept her eyes away as best she could.

 

[Aerynth]

God, this just felt so awkward. Awkward and vaguely scary. It also turned out, and quite quickly at that, that this wasn't just about the scars anymore. More than that, it was simply about being seen. Propriety hadn't been a concern of hers in the past, not really, but-- Cyreia just wasn't used to not being clothed with other people present. That last line of defense had always been there; the only thing that stood between her and being revealed as a fraud. Between her and death. Thinking about it like that was silly, of course. Remin wouldn't use it against her. Had her wife wanted to hurt her, she would have done it by now. It didn't make sense for her to ignore all of the previous opportunities - many of them better than this one by miles - only to betray her now. Besides, Cyreia trusted her. She just did. None of that, however, made her heart beat any slower or the panic spilling throughout her veins any less real. If there was a way to turn her mind off and come to her senses only after Remin was finished, she would have done it without hesitation. That wasn't possible, though. The only thing Cyreia could do was to grit her teeth and bear with it, as she had done so many times before. "... thank you," she whispered regardless of her feelings. Remin couldn't be faulted for the situation. Her wife was just trying to help, after all, and by the looks of it, she had no intention of crossing any lines. Where were those lines, though? And what if some part of her wanted them to be crossed? Wanted to be seen despite her fright? Once again, everything seemed blurred, blurred, blurred, and the edges felt sharp against her skip. Like pieces of broken glass.

"I have to say, this is not how I imagined it to go. You undressing me, I mean," Cyreia tried to joke, though her voice failed her. More than anything, she sounded... slightly panicked? Distraught? Something along these lines. Similarly to Remin, she, too, looked everywhere but at her. The walls of their bedroom seemed to utterly fascinate her in that moment.

 

[Conifer]

"-perhaps next time it will be more enjoyable." Remin says lightly, feeling heady, feeling risky. Was it perhaps better to ignore all of the things that came along with Remin's hands gently working Cyeria free of her clothes? Or-- or was it better to tease about it? Cyeria seemed to think the latter, even if her tone did little to quell any of the feelings that filled her in this moment. She pulled her hands away quickly as she finished, putting some amount of space between them that the process hadn't allowed, once Cyeria sat in only her bandaging - that around her head and arm, and that around her chest - and underthings. "Do you--" She falters, because this is crossing lines, it feels like it's crossing lines, but she's going to be nothing if not a good nursemaid for Cyeria right now even if it was terribly awkward (and-- well, if she were honest with herself, which she was refusing to be, vaguely intriguing,) to imagine skin bared nearly entirely by Remin's hand. Would this have been easier, if this /was/ because of more enjoyable reasons? Or would the pressure of all of that made it even more nervewraking? "Your chest." She says, a bit more sure of herself (she hopes). "Do you wish it unbound? Or should we just...leave it?"

Not wanting the pressure of a reply to be made wore by the pressure of Remin's eyes waiting on her for a decision, Remin moved to the small supply of clothes of Cyeria's that she hadn't brought along on the trip. It was easy enough to find an overlarge tunic; comfortable enough for the night without having to go find their packed things, and without any of the intricacies that would make it difficult for Cyeria to at least undress herself in the morning if she wanted to do so.

 

[Aerynth]

"I can only hope so," Cyreia said, not willing to let the opportunity to joke slip through her fingers. Joking made everything easier, didn't it? Surely it would help in this case, too. It had to, because she sure as hell knew no other solution. No other way to chase the sense of comfort that seemed to be so very distant right now. Inhale, exhale. Everything will be fine. "Because if not, then this marriage will be a very sad affair." Not knowing where to look, Cyreia closed her eyes. That turned out to be a good idea because the darkness beneath her eyelids gave her an illusion of privacy. 'If I can't see her, then she can't see me' sort of a thing. It was childish and obviously incorrect, of course, but she would take anything at this point. That fragile inner peace, though, was quickly disturbed by Remin's question.

"... uh," she said, unable to come up with anything more intelligent than that. Her mind went completely blank. This kind of query was to be expected, really, yet it still caught her completely off guard. Why oh why had she not thought about this before? Having a rehearsed answer at her disposal would have been so nice. Curse her past self for not being insightful enough! Still, the clock was ticking and Remin awaited her answer. Cyreia took a deep breath. "I suppose? It'll be more comfortable. It's-- it's painful when you leave it on for too long." She had resorted to sleeping in her bandages before and while it hadn't been unbearable, it had never been the most pleasant of her experiences, either. There was no need to add backpain to the growing list of her trouble; certainly not because of something as stupid as shame. Wasn't Remin her love, for god's sake? She would get to see her naked sooner or later. Ideally, she would get to do more than just look. Why the fuss, then? "So yes, take it off," Cyreia said despite herself, despite wanting to run away. Running away never solved anything, though, and it wasn't like her legs would carry her far in this state anyway. And since she couldn't not face this, why not go all the way in? Removing at least some of the unknowns from the equation would help her handle the situation better. "Do you... not mind?" Cyreia asked before she could change her mind. "Me looking like this, I mean. I really am good at destroying things and that unfortunately includes myself as well."

 

[Conifer]

Remin turned back towards her, finally allowing herself to look at Cyeria. The thought of minding the scars hadn't honestly occurred to her; she hated them for the pain and injuries that they implied, but not for the sight of them. "No?" She says, the tunic bundled up in her hands, as if she was surprised that she even had to ask. Had that been worrying her? Had that been part of the cause of the strangeness of this? Not the nudity, but the scars? "Cyreia," Remin says, so softly, moving back to the bed. Should she stand before her? Sit with her? She lands on the latter, sitting on the edge of the bed just beside her - close enough to touch, but far enough that they're not. "You don't look destroyed to me." Remin says, setting the tunic down on the expanse of bed beside them. "Not the way your clothes end up, at the very least. You look perfectly whole." She hesitates, before reaching out to touch one of the scars - a small one against her arm. "I don't mind them. I don't mind any of you. In fact, I rather like all of you that I've met so far."

 

[Aerynth]

Ah. Well, that... that was unexpected. Or maybe not. Had Remin ever given her a reason to expect a different answer? Something more cruel, something that would leave her feeling unworthy? Not even once. This had never really been about Remin, though. The insecurities had nothing to do with her and everything to do with Cyreia. They hadn't really manifested while she had served in the army, but that didn't mean they hadn't been there, simmering right under the surface. Making her think that she was defective. "I'd have to try harder to end up like my clothes," Cyreia said with a tiny smile. The need for closeness overpowering her shyness, she rested her head on Remin's shoulder. God, this was so satisfying. Being able to talk to her and finding nothing but understanding each and every time. How many people got to have something like this? Not many, Cyreia reckoned.

"I kind of feel stupid for worrying about it now, you know. As if you'd react differently," she murmured into her skin. Her voice still sounded weak and tired, but the tension that had been there just moments ago disappeared; as if a great weight had been lifted off her chest. Perhaps that was exactly what had happened. "Could we maybe blame this episode on the sedatives? It would be a lie, but-- when something embarrassing happens to you in the future, I can also pretend that I believe some implausible justifications for it that you'll come up with. Hell, I'd be happy to invent them myself."

 

[Conifer]

Remin curled an arm around her shoulders when she rested her head on her, shifting to make the whole thing more comfortable for the both of them. Maybe it should feel stranger, this difference between their states of dress, but it just simply didn't. Not any stranger than it had when she had been undressing her, at least - perhaps because of that reassurance that Remin didn't mind her scars, perhaps because they'd had a tiny bit of time to grow more comfortable about, perhaps for any dozen of other reasons that there might be for this feeling of comfort. Or perhaps that's just how they worked; eventually, any situation between them would settle itself. "It isn't stupid," Remin promises, pressing a gentle kiss into her hair. There's still a braid tucked into it that she hasn't bothered to untwine, in a little spark of silly possessiveness while Cyeria had slept in the carriage. "But yes, I'll take you up on your proposal. I think you can blame anything you'd like on the sedatives for now."


She just held her, for a moment, before shifting away from to grab the tunic again. "Here," she says softly, helping Cyeria into it. There was no reason she had to undo the bindings in the open; she'd spare her whatever modesty they could manage. And, honestly, that was something she'd rather experience when it was wanted, not when it was needed. Her hands slipped under the tunic, and -- okay, well, perhaps this wasn't the better of the two plans. This felt almost more intimate, her fingers skimming across the bindings to find the point to pull the whole mess free.

 

[Aerynth]

"Anything? You're giving me a powerful weapon here," she smiled softly, the discomfort almost a memory at that point. Not that much had changed between them, so logically, this shouldn't feel that different, but it did. So very much. Maybe it was because Cyreia got to focus on their proximity instead of her state of undress, maybe Remin's reassurance had done the trick; the cause didn't matter too much. What mattered was that another barrier had fallen. Soon, she would be completely defenseless in front of her wife. Somehow, that thought failed to fill her with fear. And was that really so strange? Could anyone blame her for wanting to let go after all these years? Keeping her guard up at all times had been so exhausting. Exhausting in ways different than the exhaustion caused by marching or fighting or inventing new strategies, but exhausting nonetheless and Cyreia just wanted to rest.

With Remin's help, she slipped into the tunic. It was the exact opposite of the clothes Cyreia had been required to wear while on the trip; loose and plain, clearly made for comfort. How pleasant. Just wearing it alone made her feel more relaxed, more ready to go to sleep and leave the entire day behind her. Remin's hands underneath her tunic, however, shattered that particular notion pretty fast. It was innocent, it really was, an attempt to make her life a little bit easier and nothing more, but... well. Rationalizations didn't work very well here. No matter how she looked at it, those were still Remin's hands, touching her oh so softly under her shirt. That was never going to be completely innocent. The place her imagination took her when prompted by the touch decidedly wasn't innocent, either, and she gasped. God, could this possibly get more embarrassing? Such a reaction wasn't appropriate at all; not when Remin was just trying to help. "Ah. I'm-- I'm sorry. I don't know how to handle this with a semblance of dignity. I'm sure that it'll get better with some practice, though." How, exactly, did her apology turn into another round of flirting? Cyreia would never understand that.

 

[Conifer]

If she'd somehow managed to avoid blushing before - she hadn't, she was sure, her face felt warm with the places her mind was wandering as she unwound the bandaging from Cyeria's chest - that was over and done for as soon as Cyeria had made /that/ sound. Gods, she just had to focus on the task at hand, and not on the idea of other ways she could pull that sound from her. Cyeria was hurt. She was only helping. She shouldn't be thinking that way, she shouldn't even be entertaining the /thought/ of thinking that way. And yet...it was hard to keep her thoughts corraled, with the proximity that this task required. It was harder to know where to look - she couldn't meet Cyeria's face, certainly not, that would be far to embarassing, and looking anywhere else was just inevitably going to make it even more awkard. Remin trains her eyes on Cyeria's shoulder, and on the soft grey-green fabric that settled there, with the small amount of decoration in a deeper green, stitched into the fabric.

"It's-- it's alright." She says, sounding far more like some teenager than she does the queen, her stomach full of butterflies and her mind full of carefully contained want. Foolishly, recklessly, she lets her fingers skim against the slowly-revealing skin along Cyeria's side. It's easy enough to pretend it was an accident - there isn't a lot of room beneath the tunic after all, despite how it hangs on Cyeria. It isn't an accident, but it could be taken as one, and she's holding to that. "The sedatives." Remin says, as lightly as she can. "And the exhaustion. It's been a very long two weeks. I think we-- I think we're both entitled to a lack of dignified behavior at this point."

 

[Aerynth]

Was... was Remin enjoying this as well? Maybe fatigue made her see things, but it certainly looked like that to Cyreia. That small, completely unnecessary brush against her bare skin suggested it as well. Practically against her will, she shivered. It was almost like having fever, really, except infinitely more pleasant. Filled with sweet anticipation instead of sweat and pain. Desiring someone and being desired in return-- damn, was it intoxicating. Remin's response, too, only encouraged her. She sounded almost as shaky as Cyreia felt, which... kind of gave her a little bit of confidence. Knowing that she wasn't the only one who had no idea how to proceed certainly here helped. They would figure that out in time, she was sure of that, and they'd do it together. How? Probably through trial and error. Ever adventurous, Cyreia found herself growing more curious than apprehensive.

"Right," she nodded slowly, "the sedatives." Just like Remin, Cyreia didn't dare to face her; her gaze was stubbornly fixed on the wall until it suddenly wasn't. Why avoid her now when there were so few opportunities to truly look at her? That wouldn't make sense. "It must be so hard for you to deal with me right now, my queen," she said, her voice gaining a teasing edge. "Those sedatives do terrible things to me. Truly terrible. If only you knew my thoughts right now, surely you'd call the guards." With her healthy hand, Cyreia grabbed her by her chin gently and made Remin face her. They were close, oh so close, and kissing her would be the easiest thing in the world, but-- where would be the fun in that? "So I was thinking that you deserve some kind of compensation for your suffering. Is there something you'd like?" she asked, trying her best to feign innocence. Needless to say, Cyreia failed at that, and quite spectacularly so. Not that it mattered, though.

 

[Conifer]

Remin's stomach dropped in the most thrilling of ways when Cyeria slid a hand under her chin, guiding her attentions where she wanted them. Oh, that was-- unexpected. Exciting. Unexpectedly exciting. Or perhaps it was Cyeria's words that did that to her - the boldness of them, the familiarly teasing tone given edge that she's only barely equipped to handle. Her eyes finally settle on Cyeria's face, and she looks over her, as if that could tell her exactly how to reply. Maybe it was the sedatives and exhaustion. Maybe she should put a stop to all of this before it even has much of a chance to begin. But that was-- it was all hours ago, and Cyeria had slept a good amount in the carriage. (Maybe that was an excuse, but...honestly, she didn't want to put a stop to this. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to, not really.)


"A tempting offer." She says quietly, as the rest of the bandaging finally falls away from Cyeria's chest. She doesn't know what to do with her hands, now. Does she pull them from under the tunic? That feels - against the tone of the moment. Does she rest then against Cyeria's skin? That feels like it's pushing too far for right now. She simply lets them drop, instead, settling so lightly against Cyeria's hips. A comprise enough. Her skin was delightfully warm under Remin's fingertips. "There's very little anyone can offer me to make them worth my time." She says, her teasing unsteady and tinged with the fighting back of a shy, excited smile. One set of fingers runs soft, gentle lines against the warmth of Cyeria's back. "What makes you think you can?"

 

[Aerynth]

Where had her fatigue disappeared to? It had undoubtedly been there just mere moments ago, closing her eyes and lulling her to sleep, but it was nowhere to be found now. That had happened to her before, of course; this sudden sharpening of concentration, the instances of her being able to see clearly in spite of the tiredness. Every soldier knew how to do this. Learned how to do this, how to mobilize the last remnants of strength, if they did not wish to die very soon. It should have been familiar, intimately so, except that it wasn't. And the difference? Perhaps for the first time in her life, it wasn't fear that had granted her the burst of energy. It was... a mix of factors, really. Excitement, for one. Being drunk off her closeness. Stubborn unwillingness to let this end. Many reasons, each sweeter than the one before it, and Cyreia loved every single one of them. Almost as much as she loved the woman in her arms, but not quite. Nothing would ever amount to that, it seemed.

"I don't know," she said playfully and caressed Remin's soft cheek. God, her entire body was tingling with want, reacting to her touches in ways she hadn't thought possible. Did it feel like that for her, too? Cyreia certainly hoped so. "Maybe it's the sedatives again, but I've come to believe that you care for me. That might make me worth your while, don't you think?" she raised her eyebrow. Remin's hand felt almost burning hot against her hip and the fire only spread from there. Oh, how she wanted to be consumed by it. By her. What could she do to make it interesting for Remin as well? Her options seemed a bit restricted with the broken limb and her wife still fully clothed, but-- surely there had to be something. There always was. In the end, Cyreia took one of her arms and planted a few small kisses on her wrist. They were light and feather-like; almost chaste, really, at least until she made her way to her fingers and added the touch of her tongue. "Unless I'm wrong in my conclusion and you want me to stop?" she asked as she looked up to her, her lips curved up in a smug smile. "I can do that, too."

 

[Conifer]

Gods, this all was a terrible idea. They should go to bed, go to sleep - Cyeria was hurt and needed to recover. Remin shouldn't be encouraging her to push herself like this. She almost said something, as Cyeria pressed kisses against her wrist, but then she reached her fingertips and any thought of that being possible filtered away so quickly that she wasn't sure if she'd ever been truly thinking about stopping it. She couldn't. Not when Cyeria was looking at her like that, all charmingly sure of herself despite her state. This was still a terrible idea, but..."I don't." Remin admits. "I never do. Your theory's right."

What does she want from this, though? She refuses to push Cyeria/too/ far; she's a poor nurse, but she won't be a disasterous one. She won't make all of this worse than it already is and draw the healer's ire, however far away she might be now. So that...limited it, if the unsteady nature of their interactions didn't already accomplish that much. In the end, her request is simple, is safe, but still holds an edge of excitement to it as Remin was sure it always would. "Kiss me, then." She says softly. Something they hadn't shared since Remin had learned the truth, besides the chaste, worried thing in the carriage.

 

[Aerynth]

'Kiss me, then,' Remin said, and it sounded like the sweetest music to her ears. How long had she been waiting for this? Days at most, if one were to look at the situation realistically, though it felt like weeks. Maybe years, even. Time seemed to flow so strangely in Athea. Was it all the magic in the air or something else? Her own desire, perhaps? Well, it wasn't like it mattered; especially not in this moment. The entire world shrank to Remin's request as Cyreia cupped her face, oh so gently, before her hand ended up somewhere on her neck. She sensed her pulse, almost as wild as her own. God, how exciting.

"Well, who am I to refuse?" she asked softly. "Not that I'd want to, of course. Just so that we understand each other, my..." my love, Cyreia almost blurted out, though she managed to swallow to word quickly enough. As hurt as she was, as disorienting as all of this felt, she still remembered Remin's plea for time. That plea would be respected. It almost seemed silly now, in the context of what was happening, but... well, they had kissed before. It wouldn't change the relationship in the same way a confession of love could. Remin should get to control the flow of this, not her. Didn't she want to give her a choice? A semblance of agency in a marriage that had been forced upon her? "... my queen." With that, Cyreia leaned closer and finally, finally tasted her lips again. It started out innocent enough, a mere teasing brush, but then the fire in her veins took over. Before she knew it, she was drowning in her. Who even needed to breathe? Certainly not her.

 

[Conifer]

It shouldn't be nearly this dizzying, kissing her. They'd done it before. They'd done it multiple times before. That little fact, though, did little to stop the overwhelming feeling of -- what was it? Gods, she didn't even know, but it was incredible, and Remin hoped that it wouldn't fade in any amount of time. The hand that still sat against Cyeria's hip stayed there, but the touch became more intentional - she pressed her palm against the hot skin, feeling Cyeria move beneath her, instead of just letting her hand sit there because it had settled there. The hand that Cyeria had pressed those soft kisses to just moments before rested against Cyeria's jaw, holding her as if she were something that might shatter at just the right touch, the way that Remin felt she might under her attention.

It lasted honestly not nearly long enough; Remin wasn't sure how much time had really passed between her request and them finally breaking apart. Remin was breathless and certainly flushed. Should it be embarassing how easily she found herself affected by Cyeria? It had only been a kiss. A desperate, all-consuming sort of thing, where little else in the world existed save for every point of contact between them, but...but just a kiss. Gods, if just a kiss...then imagining anything further than that is overwhelming. The exciting sort, the sort that if Cyeria weren't hurt, if she wasn't trying to be the responsible one of them, Remin might allow this (encourage this) to lead to. Their first night truly in their bed - isn't that what's only traditional? She can't be blamed for following tradition, not when it was engraved to bit of her since the day she'd been born. She was guiltless in her want to follow it. No one could fault her for that. She watches Cyeria when they part, the distance between them minimal, and has never felt more entirely in love, whatever that's supposed to mean. It meant, she supposed, this.

"You should rest." She says quietly, reluctantly. "We should sleep." But her words were not without ulterior motive; if anything, their sole motive was this, instead of truly settling down into bed: Remin pressed a kiss to Cyeria's wrist, of the hand that rested against her cheek, before turning away from her, her back towards the other woman. "Return the favor of my helping you with your clothing and aid me with mine?" Remin asks softly. She didn't need it - the closures were simple, and easy enough to undo on her own; she was sure that Cyeria would manage it easily one-handed. But it was a carefully disguised request to lead this, perhaps, further, or at least leave them even in what the other had seen. She wasn't sure how far this /should/ go, honestly, considering Cyeria's injuries, but this felt at least a little safe. Honesty between them, both their skin seen bare.

 

[Aerynth]

Wasn't she supposed to be used to this by now? To kissing her? The novelty should have worn off by now, but it hadn't, it so very much hadn't. If anything, it only got more intense. Not having to hide behind Avther probably helped. While it had always been overwhelming in the best of ways, Cyreia never could have focused on Remin fully. The fear of being found out had lingered in her mind, perhaps muted at times but ever present, and that had detracted from the experience. Contamined it with thoughts of her betrayal in lying to Remin. Now, though? Cyreia gave herself to her entirely and, in return, received the same. Affection that belonged unambiguously to her and her only; not to the man who didn't exist. She moaned into the kiss and hugged her even tighter, even closer, as if she wanted them to become one. Two parts of a whole, finally reunited. Wasn't that romantic?

In the end, though, they had to separate. She wasn't happy to do so, but the need for air didn't really give her a choice. Just like Remin, Cyreia found herself panting and weak in the knees. Seeing her partner in a similar state only worsened it. God, how she wanted to press on and discover what kind of noises Remin could make under her hands. What she would look like when shaking with pleasure. Wanted, wanted, wanted. The verb seemed to define her now; no other words mattered. Her wife, however, had some reservations.

"I am resting," Cyreia protested. "This is very relaxing. I'm feeling more than fine, thank you very much." Stupid injuries. Had it not been for them, they would have-- would have taken this to its logical conclusion, she supposed. Shared the bed like a married couple. Or was that still an option? Remin didn't sound too firm in her conviction to go to sleep, after all, and-- oh, now she asked her to undress her. Alright, why not. That didn't make her nervous at all. Well, maybe a little, but had that ever stopped her before? "I can do that for you," she smiled softly. Once her legs seemed a little more stable, Cyreia got up from the bed and approached Remin from behind. "I hope you're aware of the risks associated with this," she teased. "I mean, you know how good I am at handling clothes. Do you really wish to place yourself in such danger? The dress looks expensive." Her healthy hand located the zipper - it wasn't exactly hidden - and she pulled it down. The fabric slid down obediently, revealing more skin than she had ever seen. Remin had changed in front of her before, of course, but Cyreia had always averted her gaze. It would have been invasive to watch unabashedly with so many barriers between them. Watching now was only fair, though, wasn't it? Because her eyes were hungry for details. Well, not just eyes. Every inch of her body hurt with want. Instead of handing her her own tunic right away, Cyreia kissed her bare neck on the spot where it connected with her collarbone. "Remin," she whispered, "what would you like to do? Are you tired, or--?"

 

[Conifer]

Remin's made to laugh at Cyeria's teasing concern for her dress; yes, it had been worth more than surely Cyeria would feel entirely comfortable with at some point, but somewhere in the mess of the day the hem had torn, and she'd kneeled in dirt and blood and that was all after the natural grime that travelling brought with it. It was not in a state to be worried about any more; she'd try to have it repaired, there was little point in simply tossing aside a still mostly-good dress, but any harm that might befall it by Cyeria's touch wouldn't make it much worse. "I think somehow it will survive," she murmurs, a distraction for them both as Cyeria's fingers found the closure. Gods. She'd been undressed in her presence before; this was nothing new. But, then again, this was /everything/ new. She'd never been viewed with the amount of attention and intention that Cyeria would be able to fix on her in a moment, and it was as utterly terrifying as all of this was.


Those worries, somehow, grew quieter as her dress fell away entirely. It was nothing overwhelmingly scandalous that Cyeria could see - just her back, bare. She could see the freckles against her tanned skin. She could see a scar of Remin's own, against her shoulder blade, where she'd fallen when trying to clamber up some stones on one of her sneaked trips beyond the castle walls; it hadn't been a bad injury, but she'd hid it, and it hadn't healed well. What a ridiculous scar, compared to those on Cyeria - those were proof of life, proof of competence, proof of bravery. Hers was the exact opposite in every way. "Utterly exhausted." Remin murmurs, not turning to face her. "But regardless of what we do, I have little plan of leaving bed before lunch tomorrow. There'll be plenty of time to recover." Recover from whatever Cyeria's thinking (likely similar thoughts to Remin) or simply the trip - the door was open.

 

[Aerynth]

Cyreia observed the back as if it was a painting, a masterpiece to be admired. It would have been oh so easy to turn her around and enjoy a more... interesting view, but even thinking along those lines felt like a betrayal. Like breaking an unspoken promise. If Remin didn't want to be seen yet, then fine; she didn't have to be. Cyreia wouldn't cross that boundary. Nobody should ever do that but her. No, waiting for her to be comfortable enough was the only right step here. Not that she minded. Dragging this out to the point of it being painful felt nice in its own way, really. That sweet anticipation? Oh, it would only make everything better in the long run, she was sure of that. Kind of like working on a plan for a long, long time and then finally seeing it bear fruit, except infinitely more satisfying.

"You didn't answer the first question," she chuckled quietly and placed a small kiss on the scar beneath her shoulder blade. Where had Remin gotten it? Cyreia would have to ask her about it later; surely there was a story behind it. Every scar had one. Right now, though, her thoughts wandered very far away from scars, injuries and unpleasant things in general. "But, you know, sleeping for so long is downright inexcusable," she began slowly. "So much work to be done and we choose to waste the precious hours of daylight in bed. How very irresponsible of us." Her tone, however, didn't match her words; instead of it sounding scornful, it was light and teasing. As light as the hand she placed on Remin's shoulder. "So, what I'm getting at is this: If we're going to be this irresponsible anyway, why not go all the way through?" As if to support her argument, Cyreia pressed herself against Remin from behind and nibbled on her ear softly. God, it took all she had to prevent herself from shaking despite the air of confidence. Was she even ready for this? Well, it's not like I can take it back now.

 

[Conifer]

If there were protests to be had before - which there most assuredly weren't, honestly - they were gone in a flash as Cyeria pulled Remin close to her like that. Everything besides the feeling of her back pressed against her, of her mouth against her ear, of Cyeria just so /close/ to her, was gone. She'd never felt like she'd fit more naturally anywhere than she did just now. "--always the strategist," she murmurs, her voice shaking. /She/ feels shaky, like she could be blown over in moments, and it's not the worst thing she's ever felt, honestly. She trusts Cyeria. She trusts her more than she's ever trusted anyone in her life, and that shoudn't be as comforting as it is. It should be terrifying, to know that Cyeria holds her (metaphorically, and at the moment, literally) in her control. Maybe it's comforting because she feels - she hopes - it's mutual. They both have that power over each other. They could both ruin each other. There was a comfort in that.

She turns to face Cyeria properly, and --okay, well, any terror that had dropped away with her dress was back, but it wasn't a poor thing. It wasn't /bad/. It was just exciting, in a way she didn't understand how to parse. She settled her arms over Cyeria's shoulders, linking her hands behind her head, keeping the two of them close. It has the slight benefit of hiding her nakedness somewhat, but-- well, that means very little when they're pressed this close together, with only the thin tunic Cyeria wore between them. "You're not allowed to push yourself," she says, far more serious than she feels like she can be right now, but that has to be clear. She lets that seriousness drop away quickly, though, so gently guiding them back to the edge of the bed. There was no reason they couldn't have comfort as they felt out the situation. "But I-- I'm sure that we can enjoy each other's company even with that in mind."

 

[Aerynth]

Alright. Alright, so this was happening, Cyreia supposed. The whole situation felt almost dream-like, too beautiful to be true, but it wasn't a dream, that much she knew. Dreams were rarely as vivid; jumbled amalgamations of random thoughts rather than mirrors of reality. Now, though? The details were here, so many of them, and it was too much and not nearly enough at the same time. The heat emanating from her partner's skin, the weight of her arms resting against her neck, the way she shook. (Because of her? Damn. Supporting her and taking her apart both seemed like alluring options and Cyreia wasn't sure what she wanted more.) "I won't," she promised her with a quiet laugh. It likely sounded nervous, it must have, but she was past the point of pretending. So what if Remin knew? There wasn't anything shameful in... feeling a bit overwhelmed. A bit out of her depth. Cyreia had never claimed to be experienced in any of this, after all. The same was true for Remin, so they were on equal footing, more or less. That thought brought her some comfort.

Somehow, they ended up in their bed. God, her life truly had taken a strange turn. Hadn't she resorted to sleeping on the floor two weeks ago just to avoid being here? It was funny how quickly things changed at times, really, because now Cyreia never wanted to leave. "That we can," she murmured and kissed Remin, just briefly, before removing her own tunic. That was only fair, wasn't it? They should both be vulnerable here, not just her wife, and-- well. Maybe she simply wanted to be touched without the barrier of fabric standing between them. Not everything had to have a noble reason behind it; least of all this. "I-- I'd just like to say first that I don't know what I'm doing here," she admitted, suddenly sounding a bit shy. Of course, Cyreia did have a general idea of what might feel good for her based on her own body, but that was very much rooted in the realm of theory. So divorced from the rawness of this situation that it wasn't even funny. "So, this... may not be ideal. Especially with my dominant hand broken. I'll try, though."

 

[Conifer]

Remin faltered when Cyeria removed her tunic, suddenly having no idea where to look; wasn't it silly that she'd put that on her not but five minutes ago to save her modesty, and now that modesty was straight out the window? They could have simply skipped those steps. Remin didn't want to have skipped those steps - she didn't want to push either of them into something before they were ready for it - but the humor of it isn't lost on her. So, she looks, taking it as permission to do so; her eyes don't linger, not too long, but it's long enough that she sees Cyeria. Her beautiful wife, touched by war and now only touched by her if Remin has any say in the matter. (The injuries from today suggest she doesn't, but gods, she's trying. She'll try harder.)

"I don't, either." Remin admits softly, reaching out to take Cyeria's good hand in her own and squeeze it gently, an attempt at reassurance for them both. "I haven't done anything like any of this before, except for with you." She sounds, at least, a little more secure in that than Cyeria does, but honestly, that's mostly because of Cyeria's own admission of her lack of experience paving the way for her. But she's not scared, not how she'd expected to be - though this whole situation was leaps and bounds away from any way that she ever imagined sharing her husband's bed, even literally. Nothing about any of this could have planned for. She leans down, kissing Cyeria again, soft and gentle for the first time, and then again, a bit more intensely. They'd figure this out. Whatever happened, it wasn't going to be bad, not with Cyeria.

 

[Aerynth]

Cyreia, too, didn't avert her gaze. Trying to grant her some privacy in this moment, with both of them in their marital bed and about to engage in... marital pleasures, she supposed, would have been downright absurd. More than that, she just wanted to look. Wanted to take in all the details, things nobody had been allowed to see before, and press them into her memory. Ah, Cyreia thought. It wasn't the most intellectual thought she had ever had, but it conveyed her feelings well. Remin was just beautiful. Breathtaking. She had known this to be true before as well, of course. Her clothing, designed to accentuate her figure, did very little to hide that fact. It wasn't the same as this, though, it very much wasn't, and she'd look for hours if she could. Perhaps Cyreia would do just that, once they were done with the... more engaging plans they had for the evening. God, some part of her still couldn't believe this was actually happening.

The touch of her hand against hers, though, confirmed that, as her words did. How utterly overwhelming. No, not overwhelming. Not with Remin. With her, no situation was as bad as it initially seemed. Why should it be difficult now when they were actually about to do something pleasant? "I'm sure we'll come up with a way to make it work," Cyreia said, some of her confidence restored. "If not now, then later. We have all the time we need." Despite her words, however, she had an inkling it would be just fine even now. Maybe more than fine, even, if their kisses were anything to go by. The lack of experience definitely didn't make them not fun. That was her last coherent thought before she pulled Remin closer and kissed her as if her life depended on it. As if it was the last kiss they might share. And after that? Everything turned into a blur of heat, limbs and - perhaps embarrassingly - noises. Had she been more aware of their surroundings, Cyreia would have been happy for the fact they had an entire floor for themselves - but that wasn't her concern at all. Nothing was, not even how long they took, and it was difficult to tell what time it was when they finally fell asleep.

By the time she opened her eyes again, the sun was high in the sky already. The medicine had worn off completely by that point, so her head hurt and her arm was pulsating with pain, too. Still, Cyreia couldn't help but grin once her gaze landed on Remin. On her beautiful wife. The events of yesterday flashed in front of her eyes and it made her blush slightly, but-- she didn't mind. Not at all. Oh, if only all memories could be half as pleasant. "Good morning," Cyreia said softly and placed a kiss in her hair. "I can't believe I overslept. Do you know how many times that happened while I was in the army? Never. Clearly, you're a bad influence," she chuckled.

 

[Conifer]

It wasn't terribly much earlier when Remin woke; the light streamed all golden-bright through the window, and she was warm and safe tucked up against Cyeria. Gods, Cyeria. She lingered in the memories of the night before for a moment, watching her partner sleep. They'd have to tend to her bandages at some point, and after everything last night, there was no way she was going to escape being sore, but for now, she simply looked peaceful. Eventually, Cyeria stirred, and Remin tucked herself back against her, as she'd been when she'd woken up. She made no effort to pretend she hadn't been watching her sleep; she wouldn't have minded had the positions been reversed, and doubted that Cyeria would fault her for it. It wasn't a crime to look at the person you loved. (And she did. She so entirely did. She'd nearly said it, soft and careless, before they'd drifted off to sleep last night, but...the right moment would come, and there was enough newness already existing between them that she didn't want to stir up more. She'd get there, they'd get there. One step at a time. Just because she didn't say it didn't make it less true, didn't make it less meaningful to, at least, Remin.)

"I must be." Remin murmurs, curling an arm around Cyeria's chest and snuggling closer against her, with her head tucked against her shoulder. She hadn't been kidding about refusing to leave bed before lunch today, and while she had no idea what time it was, she estimated they still had a good amount of time left before then. They'd had so little peace, so little comfort like this, in...gods. Had it been ever? When was the last time she'd felt this relaxed? It was before her parents, certainly. It might even be before the war had broken out. But now...now the war was over, and justice would be had for her parents, and - at the moment - little mattered besides existing for a bit longer in Cyeria's arms. "And yet," She turns up her head to press kisses along Cyeria's jaw, easy and soft, as if they'd been doing this for years instead of a far shorter amount of time. There's no intention behind them (though it wouldn't take much to convince her, quite honestly, not after last night,) besides to touch and show tender affection. "I think you don't really mind."