Alvaerelle Wynzorwyn

Upon the male's short half-coughed laugh, her cheeks would now burn with mild embarrassment as yet another sheepish grin would spill across her lips.

“I think that is the first time I have witnessed you struggle with your words, Alvaerelle.”

Her name upon his tongue had done something quite vicious to her. Her eyes lighting up once more. She had only now realized it may have been the first time throughout their interaction he had addressed her by name, outside of his initial greeting. Whether it had been a triplet fumbling around in the womb she had nearly forgotten such a feeling of butterflies fluttering about within her intestines existed, having not felt it in some time. Perhaps the pyres fumes had finally gotten to her at last.

“Are they not due any day now? They seem to have inherited their mother’s quick temper.”

“Unfortunately, we still have several more weeks to go. We are only in week 29, out of the alleged 40 it can take before these three make their grand arrival to begin wreaking havoc and chaos wherever they roam.” She’d snort, gracing the male with a warm smile at the thought of the three boys truly causing mayhem around camp. “My temper on top of Samblar’s need to always be doing something it would appear. They never rest, for even the slightest moment of peace, one of them is always shifting about.” She’d add, feeling the one writhe once more beneath her rib cage.

She would notice his attention slip from the conversation for a moment and loom upon Ivan once more. Her brow would raise for only the slightest moment as she noticed a spark illuminate the male’s golden honey pools that would seem to blaze an even deeper perhaps richer amber. He was scheming, she could sense it, though what of, would not properly form itself within her mind. That is, until she watched the male stand before her, hand outstretched in offer of a dance. Her pale violet pools would slip from his gaze toward his rugged hand and for what might have felt like eternity for both of them, she would take it to ponder.

Lack of circulation from sitting for so long in such a position could serve as a likely excuse as to accept the males offer, although her feet no longer ached and her love for dance would have brought her back regardless of who it would have been with. But, this was not just anyone. This was Cyrus Terosh. He may have once been known as a male worth getting to know, although now, there was perhaps not a single person willing nor sane enough to desire to be near him. Hmm… sane. The babes in her womb added more to her ferality than what was usually displayed and while she cared very little of what many of the tribe thought, there were only a select few whose opinions mattered to her. One such individual being Althaea. As her lips began to part in answer and as she would begin to reach and offer her hand, her attention would be snagged by none other than Althea.

Like a teenager being caught red-handed by a parent doing something they ought not to, her cheeks would flush with mild embarrassment once more, bringing her hand back from the males and reaching for the bench to help herself up. As awkward as it may have appeared to those from a distance, like a fawn freshly born, her stance would widen, with a huff, allowing her balance to return before finally meeting the familiar and warm face of Althea.

"Hello Alvaerelle, I was coming to ask you, how are you and the little ones feeling today?"

“What impeccable timing you have, Althaea,” She’d begin, vocals a bit strained, though not particularly upset about the interaction at hand, “I am well. As for the little ones… they are their usual selves. Restless and writhing about, no less.” She’d finish, a foot protruding to the right of her belly in response.

Cornaith Iliven

"By the looks of it, you have had the taste of a few other things tonight.”

Naith walked himself into that one, his mouth nearly flew open unsure whether to take the statement as a compliment or an insult. He had to give credit where credit was due Catori did know how to tease him, oftentimes, most times, catching him off guard. Her slightly roving eyes did not escape his own and her laugh had been an intoxicating muse to his ears. Her comment was quickly followed by yet another taunt of pure wit.

“I don’t want to know who your paramore is tonight.”

“You wound me Catori…” He’d start, the deep raspy tenor of his vocals dancing between everyone, “I do have standards, you know. I believe Elariel knows exactly what beat to play that makes some of the females of this tribe go absolutely feral. As soon as I started dancing they just threw themselves at me!” He’d throw his hands up, cup of ale in tow, in an innocent gesture, shrugging his shoulders and making a very innocent-looking pout spill across his mask for a moment before returning to a wicked smirk.

“Rumor has it that one of the boars and the wine this evening was seasoned and spiced with an aphrodisiac.” He’d sneer, smirking as smug as a cat, taking a sip of his ale.

There was a brief silence, only for a more private conversation held between Catori and Elariel before the lieutenant slid in a slight taunt toward the lot of warriors.

“If you’re not careful I’ll have to get dirt on it, to teach you lot a lesson tonight if you act up.”

“Make it mud and you’ve got yourself a date with destiny, Catori.” He’d retort, grinning like a fiend, and winking once more.

His attention would be drawn rather abruptly toward a familiar female warrior he had his particular taste for, one of which, who was not present at this specific gathering place. She had been dancing with another male, one he would more than happily enjoy poking his dagger with upon observing just how close the pair had gotten until she had called an end to it. He had smirked at the utter shock Clisteœska had left upon the male's face, that was her specialty. He would note she was a female who often could get fairly motion sick if twirled about too much especially after too many cups of ale.

He would dip his skull in parting toward the group, aiming his sights toward the nearest table to refill his cup and fill another with water. There had been a lone plumeria flower resting itself against the large bowl of water and thus he decided to toss the garnish on top of her drink before stalking toward the female who had appeared to have gotten their fill prior to his arrival.

“You never did strike me as the sentimental type.” He would chide toward the female, his husky vocals dancing across the table. His pale pools, that now burned a bright red, would burn to meet her fiery emerald gaze.

He knew why she had done it. Why she had opted to dance with the meekly gatherer. It was their form of dance after all. She had likely seen him with the blonde and out of spite decided to dance with the male to do the same to him. In either case it worked for the pair. The true part of their dance would be that of the words that would soon spill from her mouth. He was ready for the assault of daggers and knives that was to come. He also knew how to quell her flames with his charm.

He would set down his ale, and very carefully pull the plumeria from the female's water, soon cupping the flower in his free hand, hidden from her sight.

Kethryll'ia Iliyanbruen Lécuyer

Heir [ Apprentice ] | Male | Eighteen | Mentions : Akith ' ki

As the young male stood by Akith’ki , he could tell the other was distracted by something ; and he slightly raised a brow at that. Because what could have him so invested ? And that's when he saw the rather interesting interaction between Sarolta and Aelion. And the way she seemed to be flirting with the other apprentice, and Kethryll'ia noticed the way that Akith’ki tensed up at the sight. And he felt his own blood boil with a similar emotion : jealousy, but he couldn't really act on it. After all, he hadn't exactly made it clear he liked Akith’ki and Sarolta . . . well , they were a sore subject. Friends since childhood, and eventually romantic partners - yet, he realized that he preferred her as a sister and companion rather than taking her as a wife. And that his father was the reason he even pursued her in the first place ; not to mention, he might be kind and sweet, but he wasn't naive - not about her nature or games she liked to play. Sure he had some respect for the game at times, hell, he'd even attempted it at a period of time, but he couldn't appreciate her stringing Akith’ki along, especially since she knew he was like a dog wrapped around that pretty little finger of hers - hanging off of every word and action. It was rather annoying, and hit and him a bit miffed, because what did that say about her and Sarolta's friendship ? In a way - part of him felt bad for being enamored with someone that his friend was toying with, and he knew it. It made him feel rather shitty, yet he was angry that Akith’ki couldn't see he was being manipulated ? Maybe it's was due to that father of his, the evil bastard, always having some type of damn plan up his sleeves . He had to shake off the feeling, and he held his arm and rubbed it due to his nerves. He held a sort of melancholy expression now ; he wished that someone hung off his word like the way Akith’ki did for Sarolta. It was rather annoying . . . as much as he loved Sarolta, sometimes he wanted to strangle her for the stupid things she did at times.

He let out a soft giggle at him startling the male, " Aw, did I catch you by surprise. That's new . " he said , a proud smile on his face as he did so, his sharp fangs visible as he did so. As he spoke , he could tell that the other male was focusing on him - and he felt sort of happy that the focus was on him now, and a bit more shy as well. He noticed the way the other shook his head as he listened, and he thought it cute. Blinking slowly he realized that it was his turn to respond , " Hm, I hope that the Dragons show mercy on us apprentices. I know the trials are going to be hard and harsh ; and we're going to want to give up - but we must do this for our clan. Hopefully we find some sort of favor, and are blessed for our hard work, after all why should we be punished for the mistakes of our ancestors . "

He took a deep breath, his voice was becoming bitter, and laced with venom, his eyes were sharp as they focused on the fire, and he could feel his claws itch for something to do into. If there was one thing about the young male that most didn't know, he didn't like being angry. Not many knew he held a temper under his exterior, and he liked to keep it that way - after all, being temperamental is a good thing and he was fortunate he could keep it under wraps at times. He took another inhale, closing his eyes this time and breathing deeply through his nose and slowly exhaling out. " It just makes me angry ; we shouldn't pay for mistakes that our haughty ancestors did, and while I may be presumptuous in saying it's our birthright to hone these powers - I just mean, " his voice wavering a little, maybe it was the alcohol making him sentimental but he felt strongly about this , " we have worked our asses off for generations and none have pleased them, it's a long shot but I have a good feeling about this group. We're going to be the ones to make it, to create and build a legacy for our people "

He could feel his cheeks flush, at the mention of him gracing them with his presence, his cheeks were probably a dark crimson at the moment and he was at a loss for words. "U-Um, " he managed to stammer out quite intelligently, and a nervous laugh followed it, " I'm no one special, I'm just an apprentice like the rest of you all. I want to bring as much honor to my Tribe and mother ; just as much as the rest of the group does. I do believe we are a strong bunch this year, it is a blessing for all of us to do this together - we all have our strengths and weaknesses and should cover each other nicely as a team. " he said, happy at the thought of getting to know his fellow apprentices better than he did. " Though I would suppose most don't know about my skills as father didn't really let me interact with you all a lot, and even then I would have to sneak out to watch you all train. . . " he said with a sigh, " but none of that! This is a celebration and we're only thinking positive and grand thoughts." He said moreso to himself, with a little fist pump.

He then noticed the male try and smile, and he tilted his head, his beauty marks more visible - he usually covered them up ( per his father's request - more like demand ) . His heterochromatic eyes, being illuminated by the low light of the flames - a sort of sparkle in them as he gave a teasing grin of his own, his bunny teeth visible, " You're cute when you try and smile, you should try it more . " he said teasing and he moved his hands to the corner of the lips of and quirked them up into a smile, " Smile ~ " he cooed, teasingly, with a sweet laugh, all in good nature and flashing bright smile of his own in demonstration . Maybe it was the mead getting to him, but it took him a moment to register what he'd done and he could now feel the tips of his ear burning. He blinked as he caught the eyes of the male and removed his hands shamefully. " Sorry " he practically squeaked in embarrassment.

He quirked a brow at the young man, who said he was trained for : to be a weapon and defend him. One that was a concerning statement and two he found it a bit rude and also endearing. And the way he got embarrassed when he added Ivan to the list, he had to give a mischievous chuckle and lean in closer to whisper, " I wouldn't be mad if Ivan wasn't on your protection list, I'd think he'd be able to handle himself, and quite frankly - I'd like having you to myself . " he said mischievously, eyes glittering as he said so, and he didn't even realize how close he was as his lips nearly brushed against the ear of the other male. He also said, " and you are a child, not a weapon, you are your own being and should find a way to prove to yourself that you. What's in your heart is of greater importance, " and he poked the male's bare chest firmly for interest, " your heart beats strong, with the will and way of a warrior, one who is honorable and strong, and would protect his Tribe with his life. Don't let anything corrupt that, you are perfect the way you are, and anyone who says otherwise can go fuck themselves. " he said sharply, his voice eloquent and warm, meaning every single word he spoke, " you deserve a night like this to have fun, be a kid for a while, and let loose, we don't get many of those of those occasions , " he said with a small sigh, and an endearing smile, but then he grew back mischievous. And then he gave a smug grin saying, " you'd be my knight ? My personal savior ? " he said lowly, faking a swoon and batting his lashes for added affect . Leaning on the taller male dramatically before straightening up and smiling, " now I'd think any girl or guy would like that, " and then he tilted his head saying, " now tell me, what would you protect me from, hm? And who says I need a guardian, pretty boy ? " he said a slight mocking in his tone, but it was in good nature, yet it came out akin to a purr, " think I can't handle myself, it's so sweet you care. Now I'd say we test our skills with a sparring session and make a bet, but how about we do something else. " maybe it was the mead making him bold, yet, he felt more free and confident than he had been, " would you care to take me to dance ? " he asked, holding his hand out in invitation, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Elariel Quercus

Warrior aka Mother Hen | Mentions: Catori, Koa, Cornaith, Althaea, Cyrus, Alvaerelle

Just then, he felt the familiar warmth of Althaea's arms wrap around his, her chin resting gently on his shoulder. The tension that had been simmering within him melted away instantly. He smiled softly, turning his head to catch her scent, a mix of earth and something uniquely hers that never failed to calm him.

When she whispered in his ear, telling him to “be good,” he let out a low chuckle. “Always,” he murmured, meeting her eyes with a teasing grin. As she cupped his cheek and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, his hand instinctively moved to rest gently on her stomach, a protective gesture he couldn’t resist. He watched her leave, his gaze softening as warmth bloomed in his chest.

Shaking his head with another chuckle, he turned back to the dwindling group. “I’ve been given my orders,” he said, smirking fondly. “And between us, I fear my mate more than any warrior or beast.” His tone was light, but the admiration for his wife was clear.

His eyes trailed after her as she made her way toward Cyrus and Alvaerelle. The scene before him shifted—Cyrus looked notably irritated, and Alvaerelle appeared flustered, her face had a small blush. Cyrus's hand had been outstretched toward Alvaerelle in what seemed like an attempt at a private moment before Althaea’s interruption. Interesting. Elariel had rarely seen Cyrus show interest in anyone since the loss of his mate.

Clearing his throat, Elariel dipped his head in farewell to the group before following Althaea. He knew his wife had been more temperamental lately, and considering her current mood, it was wise to keep a close eye on things before they escalated. In his opinion, he had been apart from her for far too long anyway; he always felt much better when she was within arm's reach.

Elariel moved with purpose, his long strides closing the distance between him and his wife, who was already deep in conversation with Alvaerelle and Cyrus. As he approached, he couldn’t help but notice the way Alvaerelle’s blush deepened and how Cyrus tried his best to remain cordial. The tension was palpable. Althaea, for her part, seemed completely at ease.

When he finally reached them, Elariel placed a gentle hand on Althaea’s lower back, both a gesture of support and a subtle reminder of his presence. “Everyone enjoying their evening?” he asked lightly, though his gaze flicked between Alvaerelle and Cyrus with mild curiosity. “Alvaerelle, you look well. Are the triplets causing any trouble lately?” His tone was casual, but his eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief, fully aware of the awkwardness he had just walked into.

Alvaerelle Wynzorwyn

She could sense the tension that quickly infected the small gathering before her. It had felt as though the fumes of the pyre stuck even more heavily over them than it had prior to the arrival of Althaea.

Her gaze would slip from Althea and her twins momentarily to catch the clear annoyance written across Cyrus’ face. Her own gaze would appear to express a mild innocence, ears dipping downward in embarrassment for his behavior, having been caught by her female counterpart whom she viewed as a mentor. She would have almost attempted to correct his behavior were it not for his attention shifting toward the small group of warriors gathered in a circle of their own, her gaze returning just as quickly toward Althaea in an almost sincere apology for the males behavior supplying a sheepish smile in response.

She noted the glint of surprise dance across the male's face when he had picked up on her apologetic glance for the interruption, the same glance that was still littered with interest in dancing with him. The interruption, granted, was one she had not purposely planned for. Though, perhaps she should have anticipated it. Althaea had eyes nearly everywhere when it came to the tribe. Her mind seemingly wandering elsewhere for a moment, awaiting patiently for the other Queen’s reply. Her pools would quickly flutter back to Althaea before abruptly slipping toward the strong muscled arm offered to her by Cyrus.

Her cheeks would flush once again as she peered up at the male who had begun his attempt at dismissing them, holding his glance firmly upon the silver streaked female. Truthfully, not even Samblar had been able to garner this degree of infatuation from Alvaerelle, it was immensely out of character for her. She did not hate it though and likely was not going to fight against it either, at least not tonight for that matter. Her ears perked at the mention of Elariel not doing much in his social circle to which she had nearly scoffed at, until he had seemingly invited the pair to join them. She had not known much of the male’s social standings with one another, other than that it was strained, following the loss of Cyrus’ mate. However, she refrained from expressing any disinterest or distaste, accepting the bluff he had thrown in Althaea’s direction. Although, this was Althaea he was toying with. She would more than likely chaperone the pair until the sun had risen the next day and well past that.

She would extend her slender arm to wrap around the males in what felt like a battle of minds and dominance, one of which she did not seem to be the intended target of. Her pale lilac near lavender pools would then fall upon the missing party at hand, thankfully Cyrus’ earlier comment had fallen upon only the trio's ears. If she could grace her palm to meet the front of her skull she truly would have done it now, but refrained. She would greet Elariel with a warm smile and curt dip of the skull.

“Elariel! Cyrus and I were just making our way to dance, although all this talking has parched me a fair bit.” She’d admit honestly, perhaps this would be another way out. With her free arm she would soon pat Cyrus' arm. The male looming beside her, the pats a small gesture of good faith, hoping well enough this interaction would pass to spare the both of them. Though, it could have also been to calm the ever growing nerves of the possible outcome of this interaction.

“Alvaerelle, you look well. Are the triplets causing any trouble lately?”

“Thank you for the compliment, Elariel. Oftentimes, I find myself feeling much like that boar over there.” She would gest pointing toward an untouched boar that had been stuffed beyond all comprehension at another table. “I believe the true question is when aren’t the triplets causing trouble.” She’d add briskly, placing the free hand she patted Cyrus with upon her ever contorting belly.

Ivan Lécuyer || Heir || M: Elariel and Althaea (direct), Cyrus, Alvaerelle, Kethryll'ia, Akith'ki, others

Ivan leaned against one of the buildings with his arms crossed and a goblet in hand. The liquid inside swirled lazily with his wrist movements, catching the firelight that cast an orange glow on the shadowed man and drink. His fingers were tingling with the numbness that came from beating the drums for such a long time. He had given it over to one of the warriors a few minutes ago, and the feeling in his hands had yet to fully return. They pulsed with the rhythms even now. Ivan's eyes flashed with the dancing flames as he took note of the clanmates around him. Several had taken to the tables, though others were still swirling and swaying to the beating of the drums.

Kethryll'ia was sidling up to one of the other apprentices -- the son of the late shaman, that's right. Wolf-black lids narrowed around his eyes in some mixture of intrigue and amusement as his brother nudged the other boy, his mouth moving in some rambling attempt to gain Akith'ki's attention. The second was fixated on Sarolta, though, and it took a moment for him to respond to the heir. A soft snort escaped Ivan, and he shook his head. That little squirt had no idea what he was doing, and it was painful to watch, albeit entertaining.

That thought was his downfall. As his gaze left his brother, he was ensnared by the beautiful trap that was Alvaerelle. A horrible stabbing sensation of guilt smashed into him at the sight of her. His best friend had taken her as a mate; Ivan shouldn't be eyeing his widow. He and Samblar had always shared puppy crushes on her, but when the time had come, it was Samblar that won the courting battle. Ivan had never been able to talk to the woman outside of duty. Just the sight of her had always been enough to make him fumble his words and lose his trains of thought. Now, painted wonderfully and gleaming in the receding sunlight, Alvaerelle was once again halting all brain function.

Ivan ran a hand over his hair, briefly gripping the short ponytail in the back and mentally cursing at himself to get a grip. If Samblar could see him now, he'd be keeled over laughing -- after he finished beating Ivan up for ogling his pregnant mate. Pregnant, and with triplets. Well. Once they arrived, whether or not Ivan had worked up the courage to try and court their mother, he'd make sure no clan member looked at them wrong. They would know what an amazing man their father was, and Ivan would tell them all the stories of how much trouble he and Samblar had gotten in to. Ivan closed his eyes and sighed wistfully. He missed his friend. They'd always been two halves of the same whole, and now... a great deal of Ivan had died with him. The pain was still fresh, and he figured Alvaerelle might feel the same. Perhaps now wouldn't be a bad time to talk to her. It seemed he'd been beaten to it, though, for when he looked up to find her again, Cyrus was already there. Ivan barely stifled a growl. He drifted nearer but was caught up in a small group of warriors and gatherers, so he paused his plans and made small talk with them instead, at ease and confident with his words and motions. It was so much easier to talk to them, to be a leader around them, than it was around Vae. She deserved the best, and Samblar had been the best.

While Ivan thought decently of himself, Cyrus was the low of the low. He'd looked up to the warrior once upon a time, but those feelings had turned sour leading up to the sacrifices of the chief and shaman, and they'd flat out plummeted into the depths of dislike following that. And now he was trying to wedge his way into the position only Samblar could have held, which absolutely infuriated the heir. He caught himself turning to look at them, and he raised a hand to Alvaerelle, pointedly ignoring Cyrus next to her. Ivan turned back to the group before he could screw anything up. His next glance caught Cyrus's hand on Vae's shoulder, and his internal screaming grew louder. A brief flash of irritation crossed his face, and he gritted his teeth until the feeling subsided somewhat. Looking had been a mistake.

It was somewhat of a relief when Althaea approached the two, obviously dashing whatever sick plan Cyrus had laid. He grew wary again as Elariel approached, and to his dismay, Alvaerelle and Cyrus made off to the dancing area. Dammit, dammit, dammit. He shook it off and excused himself from the group, striding across the open area to greet Elariel and his queen. He didn't spare a glance for Cyrus; Ivan would talk to Vae later. He wasn't courting her; he had no right to be angry with the warrior. He was her friend, first and foremost.

Reaching Elariel, he muttered under his breath, "How many members of the tribe would actually care if he slipped and fell off a cliff?"

Alvaerelle Wynzorwyn

The conversation before the pair was now growing to feel like more of an assault against Cyrus. Many of the questions posed by the couple had been predominantly directed toward Alvaerelle. Were they attempting to spare her any formation of feelings she could have developed for the male in such little time. Not that many had truly formed other than perhaps a slightly greater piqued interest in his intentions with her. Did she really need saving from the couple? Was she so idiotically entranced by the male she hadn’t sensed herself to be in any danger? Surely, not. She would have picked up on it, wouldn’t she?

Nearly drowning silently in self-thought she felt and embraced the sturdy shift of muscle and tendons dancing between her soft fingertips as Cyrus had straightened his shoulders to meet Elariel straight on. Her own lean musculature shifted alongside his, as she would now also slightly adjust her own posture from the angle she had gathered herself in. Standing gracefully perhaps even equally as powerful beside the brute. No one could argue that the pair were not a powerful duo, likely matching a similar fierceness to the couple before them; starkly different in contrast however, harsher perhaps. The gathering here would likely surprise most from a distance, had lingering eyes been watching, which surely there were.

Standing beside the massive hulking male, closing in any gap there had once been between them, her mint and pine scent would swirl and intermingle with that of his own. Something about the combination satisfied her olfactory senses bringing a small grin to stain itself upon her face. Her pupils would dilate all the more in equal satisfaction, shifting her gaze to meet the male beside her once more. Her head had turned to peer up toward him embracing his powerful chest before her. He was as tall as Samblar yet wholly different. There was a sensual appeal, sizzling slowly between them, neither party daring to indulge the allure. Her eyelids would slightly lower themselves for a moment only to perk back up recollecting the company before them. She would promptly return her skull and eyes to meet them. There was something within her she hadn’t noticed before, a hunger that craved more than just attention, perhaps she had been in need of companionship. It had been well over a few months since her mates passing. Her mind had been solely focused on preparing for the triplets that she had filled that void with nesting.

Upon the repeated dismissal and later invitation extended toward the couple she would offer a warm smile before chiming in, “Please do excuse us.” She’d near chuff toward the couple, soon being gently led away by Cyrus.

There was a gentleness to Cyrus that Vae hadn’t entirely expected. Esen had told her enough about the treatment toward his son to which she had claimed to have heard from Syllivanna, a maternal relative unknown to Alvaerelle. Their strides matched and remained rather light and graceful, his having more of a powerful air to them, hers seeming more regal, despite her pregnant waddle. In the midst of their stroll, she could sense him lean closer to her. Then the sensation of his warm breath against her pointed ear and the sound of his deep gravely vocals gracing her, caressing her, and luring her very soul eliciting a chill to dance along her spine and the inner core of her thighs to melt slightly. Her toes curled against the sensation had anyone been able to peer around her swollen belly. If she could squeak like a field mouse she would have, fighting the very urge to do such a thing, by allowing a smirk to spill itself across her face once more. Blood would burn against her cheeks, her ears soon growing equally as hot. She felt as though she’d been set aflame and was in desperate need of being cooled down.

“You look divine tonight.”

The words danced wildly in her mind even after he had pulled his head away. It had been a long time since such feelings had been erected from her. Ivan with his presence alone would spark something but not to this degree, granted the male never seemed to cross a line past their friendship, respectfully. She couldn't quite find a way to assert her interest either given that their conversations rarely tip-toed past topics of the babes or work. This level of attraction was dangerous, but she enjoyed danger regardless of its form.

Upon the separation of their arms and the inspection of her water, her lilac pools would burn once more upon the male. She was likely immensely flushed to the point it would have probably concerned a local shaman, for this form of flushing would only be the result of endless and perhaps successful flirtation. She would hope he could not smell the shift in her scent as a slight increase in her carnal desire would stir. Perhaps it was more than slight. Nonetheless, she would reach her hand to meet his, a more innocent gaze falling upon the masculine before taking the cup. She would sip elegantly from the cup embracing the sweet relief the cool refreshment brought her.

“Thank you.” She would state in a near purr, slipping her gaze from the cup to meet him once more. “I am more than certain that you are likely well aware of this, but your eyes burn the deepest amber in this light.” She would add.

Her light mauve eyes would flicker toward a bowl of lychee fruit sat beside them finding an opportunity to satisfy a sweet craving that had itched its way toward her tongue. The fruit had been half peeled leaving a small rounded pallid bulb exposed half wrapped within the tougher outter skin. She had luxuriously wrapped her soft pink lips around the fruit taking a small bite wary of the seed that sat at its center. Its juices slightly spilling from the corners of her mouth only to be lapped up by her tongue. Eventually the empty skin and seed were flicked away into the nearby shrubbery, a small portion of compost to aid in the regrowth of the local fauna. Beside the bowl of fruit, there had been an even smaller bowl of honey. She would dip a single digit within the bowl and bring it to her lips dabbing the slightest hint of dryness away, rubbing her lips together, ultimately leaving her lips with a glistening glossy appearance bringing all the more attention to the singular red line that rested below her bottom lip and ended at the tip of her chin.

She had seen how he licked his lips earlier and proceeded to repeat the action upon him, ever so gently offering to reach his lips, tip toeing slightly given their height difference.