Xian Xiao
Elementalist
Xian didn't move at first.
Not because she was uncertain, and not because his kiss had left her breathless — though it had, more than she would ever admit aloud — but because something inside her went very, very still when he spoke those words. Peace. He said she'd given him peace. He said it like he meant it, like it wasn't something fragile he was trying to cling to, but something solid he'd found in her of all people.
For a moment, she could only stare at him, her breath caught halfway between exhale and prayer.
The wind brushed along her back in a soft curl, as if urging her to breathe, to feel, to step into whatever this was becoming. And she did. Slowly, almost unconsciously, her hands slid up from where they'd pressed lightly against his chest and came to rest at the sides of his neck. Her thumb traced the edge of his jaw, feeling the warmth in his skin, the way his pulse jumped beneath her touch.
"Veyran…" she whispered, but the rest of the sentence didn't come. Not yet. Her voice wavered too much, her thoughts filled with him — with the sincerity in his eyes, with the quiet awe in his voice, with the way he held her like she wasn't something he expected to vanish.
Peace. He said she gave him peace. It struck her deeper than any kiss.
She leaned forward slightly, resting her forehead against his once more, her breath unsteady but warm as it mingled with his. For the first time, she wasn't trying to hide the tremble in her hands or the small, fragile hope blooming behind her ribs.
"You don't know what you're doing to me either," she murmured, her voice softer now, steadier despite the emotion thickening it. "You say those things and I… I don't know how to hold it all."
Her fingers curled lightly at the back of his neck, not pulling him closer, just grounding herself in the reality of him — warm, steady, unflinching in the way he looked at her.
"I've never mattered to someone like that before."
Her confession was barely more than a breath. "No one's ever said peace and meant me."
The wind stirred at her feet, a soft circling pattern, reflecting the quiet shift inside her — fear loosening its grip, replaced with something braver, something she wanted to protect even if she didn't fully understand it yet.
She lifted her head just enough to meet his eyes, really meet them, and for a moment she let him see everything she usually kept locked behind humor or temper or stubborn refusal to be vulnerable.
"You're not the only one who buried things," she said gently. "I did too. I thought… maybe it was safer that way."
Her hand slipped from his neck to his shoulder, warm and steady, and she stepped even closer into his embrace, feeling the slow, powerful way his body moved with his breath.
"But when you kiss me like that," she continued, her voice dropping to a softer, almost trembling whisper, "when you look at me like I'm not going to disappear… something in me starts to believe you."
She brushed her lips against his — not a kiss, just a touch, a promise, a quiet answer to everything he'd given her.
"I don't want to run," she whispered, her heartbeat quickening where her chest met his. "Not from this. Not from you."
She exhaled shakily, her breath warm against his mouth.
"And I'm not letting go either."
Her hand slid back to his chest, right over the steady beat of his heart, and she leaned into him again — not with fear, not with hesitation, but with a soft, deliberate certainty.
"If you're staying," she murmured, voice threaded with something tender and new and impossibly hopeful, "then…I'm staying too."
The wind curled around them like a vow.
Her thumb brushed slowly across his cheek again, and for a heartbeat she just looked at him — really looked — at the man who had kissed her like she was something worth staying for, who held her like he didn't expect her to shatter, who spoke to her like she wasn't a fleeting moment in anyone's life.
Her breath caught.
Her heart tightened.
"Veyran…" she whispered, softer this time, almost fragile.
The wind shifted with her, circling upward in a warm current that carried the truth rising too fast, too close to the surface. It pressed against her ribs, climbed her throat, burned behind her teeth.
"I—"
Her voice broke, just slightly. "I lo—"
The word stalled.
Fear flickered across her face — not of him, not of the moment, but of the enormity of what she'd almost said. Something raw and bright and terrifying. Something she wasn't ready to name aloud, not yet, not when she'd only just begun to believe she wouldn't lose him.
She swallowed hard, her forehead brushing his again.
"I…" She tried again, gentler this time, choosing something she could give without breaking. "I'm here. With you."
Her fingers curled into his shirt, tender and trembling.
"And I'm staying."
The wind softened around them, warm as a hand on her back, as if the Force itself understood exactly what she meant — and what she wasn't ready to say.
Veyran Solis
Not because she was uncertain, and not because his kiss had left her breathless — though it had, more than she would ever admit aloud — but because something inside her went very, very still when he spoke those words. Peace. He said she'd given him peace. He said it like he meant it, like it wasn't something fragile he was trying to cling to, but something solid he'd found in her of all people.
For a moment, she could only stare at him, her breath caught halfway between exhale and prayer.
The wind brushed along her back in a soft curl, as if urging her to breathe, to feel, to step into whatever this was becoming. And she did. Slowly, almost unconsciously, her hands slid up from where they'd pressed lightly against his chest and came to rest at the sides of his neck. Her thumb traced the edge of his jaw, feeling the warmth in his skin, the way his pulse jumped beneath her touch.
"Veyran…" she whispered, but the rest of the sentence didn't come. Not yet. Her voice wavered too much, her thoughts filled with him — with the sincerity in his eyes, with the quiet awe in his voice, with the way he held her like she wasn't something he expected to vanish.
Peace. He said she gave him peace. It struck her deeper than any kiss.
She leaned forward slightly, resting her forehead against his once more, her breath unsteady but warm as it mingled with his. For the first time, she wasn't trying to hide the tremble in her hands or the small, fragile hope blooming behind her ribs.
"You don't know what you're doing to me either," she murmured, her voice softer now, steadier despite the emotion thickening it. "You say those things and I… I don't know how to hold it all."
Her fingers curled lightly at the back of his neck, not pulling him closer, just grounding herself in the reality of him — warm, steady, unflinching in the way he looked at her.
"I've never mattered to someone like that before."
Her confession was barely more than a breath. "No one's ever said peace and meant me."
The wind stirred at her feet, a soft circling pattern, reflecting the quiet shift inside her — fear loosening its grip, replaced with something braver, something she wanted to protect even if she didn't fully understand it yet.
She lifted her head just enough to meet his eyes, really meet them, and for a moment she let him see everything she usually kept locked behind humor or temper or stubborn refusal to be vulnerable.
"You're not the only one who buried things," she said gently. "I did too. I thought… maybe it was safer that way."
Her hand slipped from his neck to his shoulder, warm and steady, and she stepped even closer into his embrace, feeling the slow, powerful way his body moved with his breath.
"But when you kiss me like that," she continued, her voice dropping to a softer, almost trembling whisper, "when you look at me like I'm not going to disappear… something in me starts to believe you."
She brushed her lips against his — not a kiss, just a touch, a promise, a quiet answer to everything he'd given her.
"I don't want to run," she whispered, her heartbeat quickening where her chest met his. "Not from this. Not from you."
She exhaled shakily, her breath warm against his mouth.
"And I'm not letting go either."
Her hand slid back to his chest, right over the steady beat of his heart, and she leaned into him again — not with fear, not with hesitation, but with a soft, deliberate certainty.
"If you're staying," she murmured, voice threaded with something tender and new and impossibly hopeful, "then…I'm staying too."
The wind curled around them like a vow.
Her thumb brushed slowly across his cheek again, and for a heartbeat she just looked at him — really looked — at the man who had kissed her like she was something worth staying for, who held her like he didn't expect her to shatter, who spoke to her like she wasn't a fleeting moment in anyone's life.
Her breath caught.
Her heart tightened.
"Veyran…" she whispered, softer this time, almost fragile.
The wind shifted with her, circling upward in a warm current that carried the truth rising too fast, too close to the surface. It pressed against her ribs, climbed her throat, burned behind her teeth.
"I—"
Her voice broke, just slightly. "I lo—"
The word stalled.
Fear flickered across her face — not of him, not of the moment, but of the enormity of what she'd almost said. Something raw and bright and terrifying. Something she wasn't ready to name aloud, not yet, not when she'd only just begun to believe she wouldn't lose him.
She swallowed hard, her forehead brushing his again.
"I…" She tried again, gentler this time, choosing something she could give without breaking. "I'm here. With you."
Her fingers curled into his shirt, tender and trembling.
"And I'm staying."
The wind softened around them, warm as a hand on her back, as if the Force itself understood exactly what she meant — and what she wasn't ready to say.
Veyran Solis
