Hand To Hand

[Qyren Leret]

More Dreadguard had joined the ranks since their dominion over Mustafar, filtering in as word of their existence and search for a homeworld spread. Qyren had been busy with personal matters and had kept herself busy when Alex was off attending to his new duties as High Lord by meeting what new members she could, quietly listening to their conversations and easing herself into their confidence, sparring with people in the training rooms when circumstances allowed. Around that noble goal she worked in her meditation, daily training exercises, and some exploration of the massive ship. It was safe to say that she spent every moment Alex had available with him; if he wasn't calling her to find a meeting place on his way back from conversations with new Dreadguard, his brothers, or one of the Alliance higher-ups, she was hesitantly sending him short messages inquiring about his availability for meals and combat sessions like the one she was waiting to begin.

Thus far, their meals in private were much more relaxed than their meals in public. Qyren wasn't exactly certain what it was, but Alex was different with her in front of others. She respected the distinction and had played along thus far, but she was going to have to ask him to provide an explanation at some point or suffer through playing by a set of rules she didn't understand. Qyren shied away from that thought as she had every time before.

Almost without thinking, she removed the lightsaber from her belt and twirled it, the blade humming through the air mid-twist. Still lost in her thoughts, she let her body slide into the familiar patterns, the movement easing some of her building anxiety. Every question that delved into the subtleties of their relationship felt like a confrontation to her, even when it wasn't. Even with several battles under their belts and a growing familiarity in their interactions (one bolstered by actual physical familiarity as opposed to just spiritual), their relationship was fragile in her eyes. Some of that was due to the tension she sensed from the Dreadguard when she was in the room; even those who made a point to ignore her breathed hostility, and she didn't need the Force to sense it. How much was her perception and how much was genuine fragility, though, was difficult to determine.

The disparity in the aspects of his character was responsible for some of that uncertainty; Qyren thought she had mostly figured out the distinctions, but when and where those changes took place was still a bit fuzzy for her. Each appeared at different times, but sometimes he would be triggered by circumstances she didn't expect-- or she would wait for the change to come only to be surprised when it didn't. The time was split somewhat unevenly between Alex, Rook, and High Lord Ontonas, each with his own distinct personality concerns.

High Lord Ontonas was by far the most problematic.

She flipped the lightsaber around her hand once before she spun into a whirl, careful not to let the blade nick her lekku in spite of her distraction. The focus between her footwork and her thoughts was a careful balance.

Arrogance didn't do enough to describe the persona Alex adopted in that role; she saw the real Alex peek out at times, but rarely. Very rarely. When he was High Lord-- as he was much of the time when they were not alone-- he was boisterous, over-confident, and waxed poetic on almost any topic. If that was who the Dreadguard needed, than that was all there was to it, but Qyren thought that some of the intensity of the personality was a shield, adopted to keep Alex from the masses around him. He played the role he thought they needed to see; if Qyren hadn't been a coward, she might have been able to suggest that, in certain cases, he dial back that persona so as not to overwhelm his recruits.

[member="Rook"]

 

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This probably was not the right time to tell her the news. It would have to wait, or -- no. Sooner was better than later.

Alexander had absconded his High Lord armor in favor of variant of his older gear. This set had a Mandalorian influence to it, but was essentially the same system wise. More importantly, it was tried and proven in combat, and that was enough. He'd learned some things last night, none of them particularly good. When the morning came, he gave up his title of High Lord, to the surprise of many. Some had tried to dissuade him, but Alex had shrugged them off. Things were different now. He could not cling to the artificial traditions of his predecessors; Alex was more.

[member="Qyren Leret"] had asked for a private training session between the two of them. that much he could provide, though the heavier issue at hand still hung over him like a specter. The door hissed open as he entered, helmet tucked under his arm. His hair was had been cut short in the brief time since they'd seen one another -- he made a point to put aside some time for Qyren every day as of late.

"Hey there," he smiled, "How you feeling?"

He stepped forward, and clipped the helmet to his belt. He was unsure how he could describe his relationship with Qyren. They were close; friends at the very least. He was not sure if there was anything more to it than that. Time would tell.

"I quit the High Lord job." he added bluntly, lips pressed into a thin line. No point in hiding it now. "Some things came up."

 

[Qyren Leret]

She heard the doors open and slid to a stop, bringing her right elbow up high to angle the blade, and then she turned to smile at Alex. It faltered slightly at his full suit of armor, and not a familiar one either; her lightsaber deactivated abruptly, and she brought one hand up to rest against her hip as he greeted her.

She put her lightsaber away as he saw to his helmet, studying him with concern. "I feel fine. What is it?" There was something on his mind, something that had prompted a change in appearance-- new armor, short hair-- and personality-- sweet, but distracted, almost an act rather than a sincere inquiry. Going through the motions to get to something larger. Her instinct was accurate, and his announcement, when it came, was certainly one that indicated a large change.

"Alex," she breathed, sympathy and faint protest in her tone as she stepped forward to meet him. "What things? What happened?"

Alex had always lived for his past, for the Republic and his Dreadguard brothers. When they had met again and Qyren had seen his fellow Dreadguard at his side, it hadn't surprised her to learn they had bigger plans to recruit new Dreadguard, to rebuild their army of Force Dead comrades. The fast pace of the next week or so had cemented that idea of constant movement, larger forces at work, into Qyren and had consumed the pair of them in their work for the Alliance. Hadn't she just been considering its impact on her and, more specifically, on Alex? For it to be so suddenly over, abruptly set aside when it seemed to be going so well, was strange. She couldn't tell from his expression whether he was glad or sorry to see the position go, only that something was bothering him, something in the vague 'things' he had mentioned that was going to weigh on him until he found a way to put it aside. Whatever the cause was, it was big; he would not have so willingly given up his place as their High Lord unless he felt he had no other options.

[member="Alexander Ontonas"]

 

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It was all a lie.

Alex drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He was a all emotion right now; no real rational thought. The Architects had brainwashed him, as they had many others, when he became Dreadguard. Those memories could not be erased; it was impossible to wipe someone's mind without the force. No, they were simply locked away, and something had unlocked them. Everything he was, all that he knew, was artificial.

"When we were built, they locked our minds," he reached up to tap his forehead, "Similar to how force sensitives can wipe someone's memories. Problem is, you can only lock them away. You can't erase them."

He lifted his shoulders up in a slight shrug. How did one explain what had happened to them? It certainly was not as natural an operation as the one the new Dreadguard underwent. There were things he had not known; had not understood. Things they had done to him as well as his mother and Sara.

"I was never a Republic soldier," he frowned, "I was...Mandalorian, I think. My mom, Sara, they were dragged into this, to sell the deception. I left them on Concord Dawn. The Architects moved them to Coruscant: got them killed." It was difficult to process. Alex just shook his head, his expression the picture of stone. "Some of the Dreadguard knew, and they didn't tell me. I-..."

Shab.

"I've got to do this without them."

[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

Qyren's mind spun, much as she imagined his must have when he had discovered it. The depth of the machinations around Alex was unfathomable. She knew she had never encountered the Architects before, so she was certain she wasn't involved in it; well, she was as certain as she could be, anyway. If their techniques locked memories away instead of destroying them, Qyren assumed the encounter at Yag'dhul would have triggered something other than her revulsion.

Why would the Dreadguard, his brothers, not have told him, though? What purpose could that serve? And, above all, why would the Architects go to such lengths just to torture Alex?

She might never have those answers, and they were irrelevant right now for anything other than to satisfy her own curiosity.

"We can't take on the Architects single-handedly." She reached out to run her hand up his arm, feeling the hard plates beneath her palm; she disliked how his armor kept her from being able to soothe him. "Will the Alliance help, without Dreadguard support?"

[member="Alexander Ontonas"]

 

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The simple answer? Probably not. Fortunately Alex's sights were not set on the Architects. While they caused their own amount of devastation, they were practically intangible. So long as the war with the One Sith continued, there would never be enough resources at hand to deal with them. With that line of thought, he had decided to support the alliance in its war against the Sith. The faster is was over, the faster they could focus on the Architects. It didn't hurt that the cult had brought about the death of his loved ones.

"We keep doing what we're doing," he offered a faint smile, and settled a hand over her own, "We need the entire alliance to deal with the Architects. Going off on our own would just get us both killed. We deal with the Sith first -- they're a bigger threat to more people anyway."

That much was the truth. While the Architects were capable of more, the Sith chose to do more. Their threat was tangible. They could be killed. The ancient cyborgs? They were a bit more complicated.

"I'd very much like to see Coruscant burning anyway."

 

[Qyren Leret]

The Architects were the long-term goal, then, but not one that would be an immediate problem unless they decided to make themselves known within the range of the Alliance. Qyren would be happy to spend the rest of her life without their presence, personally. In fact, a conflict with the Sith might very well take that long. She stared at his hand over hers without really seeing it. They would take their orders from Coren and the others, then, help them in whatever fights they saw as necessary. Effectively, she had just joined the Alliance, even if it hadn't been her intent initially. The politics of the system were beyond her and had been something she worked around during Alex's short stint as High Lord, so she was happy to be relegated to the role of another Jedi fighter for a good cause. Alex sounded like he would fight at her side, where possible, and that was enough for her on many fronts.

The problem would come when there was collateral damage involved; that was always the trouble with a war. There were people on Coruscant who weren't involved with the Sith, who didn't deserve to die, and Qyren hoped that Alex would be more sympathetic to that in moment in a way that he could not be now with a fresh wound and his family on his mind. She was sure he would be. He worked to save them, not kill them; it would mostly be the Sith and their allies who fell to his attacks.

"I would very much like to train, if we're going to be seeing more battlefield action soon," Qyren said with a smile, redirecting the subject. "Should I have gotten armor somewhere before coming down?" She moved half a step backward to survey his new, sleeker suit. How many times had she seen him change his armor over the last few weeks? Was this common for him?

[member="Alexander Ontonas"]

 

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So Alex liked to change his armor, what was wrong with that?

He did not give her a verbal reply immediately. They would need to head out to...well, wherever in Corellia's Nine Hells the alliance needed them soon. Probably to do something that involved Coren's antics. Alex liked the guy, even if he was a little off at times. Most folks in the alliance were; it was a galactic power led by broken people leading would-be patriots. Probably not the healthiest bunch, but healthy had lost them the war thus far.

"I'm wearing armor because most of the folks that will get close to you are going to be wearing it too," he reached up to thump his breast plate, "There's no point in learning if you can't apply it effectively in actual combat."

It was back to business then. Alex was okay with that; business meant he did not need to explain himself further. Then again, Qyren understood him well enough. He had a feeling she understood what was going to be happening in the coming weeks.

"Am I right to assume the Jedi taught you the basics of CQC?" He lofted a brow, and released her hand. He'd heard the Jedi learned such things, but he never really had the time, nor the need to inquire about it.

[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

"Some. Whatever was involved in learning the acrobatics needed for Ataru, certainly." She let her hand fall away from his arm when he released her, considering his reasoning and his armor. The Force could likely reinforce a barehanded blow; she hadn't tried such a thing before, but if it become necessary, she could find a way to do it. Otherwise, her fingers might end up broken or bruised even before the end of their practice. "It's a poor fighter who only has one style of attack."

She clenched and relaxed her fingers. Quitting the Dreadguard would not help ease Alex's sense of betrayal; it was only a way to try to keep it from increasing, preventing him from having to face them for any longer than he had to. Who was it? Were the Dreadguard in question those who were closest to him? There was nothing she could do to fix the past, but this was something that would plague Alex; to have no way to fix it left them both helpless. She had no doubt that his anger would eventually be taken out on what Sith they would encounter on the Alliance's future missions.

Qyren's gaze was noticeably distant, distracted. Have all of his memories been restored then? And why would they come to him now? Will this change us? No, that last one was ridiculous. The memories he meant were all from before the friendship they had built; they dealt with his family and his life as a solider-- or, as he had said, perhaps a Mandalorian. A trip to Concord Dawn might be in their future, if Alex felt the need to understand who he was and what background he had actually come from.

[member="Alexander Ontonas"]

 

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She had some basic understanding then. He'd expected as much -- Qyren never seemed the sort to abscond learning things on her own. He'd surmised she had come to learn a number of things that he was not aware of during her time with the Jedi. It would take a bit of pocking and prodding to figure out what those things were; all in due time.

"I kind of like blasters. How poor is that?" He teased, reaching over to give her a light shove on the shoulder. It was playful rather than malignant. "When you go after an armored opponent, you need to go for the joints. Punches and jabs don't mean much when you're punching durasteel. You're more liable to hurt yourself than your opponent in those cases."

I've made that mistake before.

"But-...maybe a bit of traditional fighting will be good for you." Without another word, he strolled over to the corner of the room. His armor whirred for a moment, and then came apart at the joints. The boots, breast plate, leg plates, arm pads, and shoulder split apart. Alex stepped out and removed his helmet, hanging it on the exoskeleton as if it were some kind of macabre coat hanger.

"Bit of a test first, eh sweetheart? Try and knock me down as best as you can." He reached down to pull at the undersuit he wore. It was not skin tight, and provided moderate resistance to energy based weapons. He wasn't going to go around without anything under all that armor.

[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

Smiling, she took the shove with good-nature, as it was intended, lightly and ineffectively swatting at his wrist to drive it away after. It made sense not to punch the heavily armored portions of the suit, though Qyren thought her Force-fueled punches idea might have merit if it came down to that.

Qyren watched Alex with interest as his armor ejected him to make him available for a more traditional spar. She didn't think she had ever been on hand before when the Dreadguard went to "disrobe"; with the exception of the helmet, everything was connected. Impressive. It explained a great deal about how they dealt with putting all of those pieces together in the correct order: they simply didn't. The undersuit was more sturdy than she had expected; Qyren flushed as she realized she was effectively checking Alex out in his full view.

Holding his gaze because any other option would come across as suggestive, Qyren adjusted her footing before cautiously crossing the distance between them, since he hadn't fully returned to her portion of the room. She assumed he meant she should knock him down with just the force of her hands, and not with any other assistance, be it Force or lightsaber.

When she was close enough, Qyren spurred her own movements into a run, striking first with a kick aimed at his knee; she let her foot land heavily when it missed and switched to hand strikes, aiming for his face and his ribs, eyes watching for a sign of retaliatory attacks. She put force behind each blow, but not all of it; to throw herself behind any hit was asking to be taken off balance. Even she knew that much.

[member="Alexander Ontonas"]

 

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Perhaps the action had been meant to be taken in a suggestive way? A thought for another time.

Alex watched the Twi'lek's movements with interest as he slowly approached. he needed to learn how to counter her moves before he could beat her in physical combat. Jedi were sneaky bastards, and he had a feeling Qyren was going to be right up there with the best of them.

She came in for a kick, and his instincts went in. The solder stepped back quickly, just barely managing to avoid her strike. The assault that came directly after came as a surprise. The first blow caught him in the upper shoulder and made him stumble, the second slightly below it. They hurt. Qyren was putting her full strength into this little contest; a good thing. You could not learn unless you were really trying.

Alex held up his arms in a cross to hold off her blows. It bought him a moment of clear thought to decide on his next action, and more prevalent, provided an opening. His leg swept out to bring hers out from under her, a wicked grin on his face. This was combat; the clearest expression of oneself. He was finally getting the chance to see who his Qyren really was.

[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

She caught the movement of his leg out of the corner of her eye, but didn't react quickly enough to prevent it. Her legs went out from under her; she hit the mat and instantly rolled back from him, giving herself some distance so that she could get to her knees and fluidly rise from the floor. Although he was fighting back, his motions were controlled; there was little chance that she was overwhelming him, which meant he was feeling her out. She didn't leave him any additional time to collect himself; her eyes darted across him, checking for weapons-- habit-- and the placement of his hands and feet, as she moved back into the fray.

She slid away from his first attack as she got in close and aimed under his arm for her next blow. Her feet never stopped moving as she ducked around his side, keeping him turning if he wanted to face her as she delivered a series of punches. They weren't as forceful as those she could deliver when standing in place, but the spinning motion should keep him off balance which was worth the exchange in her opinion. As he turned, she tried another kick aimed for his knee in the hopes of catching him off guard; even with one leg down, it would bring him down to her level and open a new avenue of attack for her.

Alex had copious experience on the battlefield. Qyren was waiting for the moment when he decided he had seen enough and put her in her place; until then, however, he was technically an equal opponent, one she had the possibility of taking down.

[member="Alexander Ontonas"]

 

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Qyren and Alex had vastly different fighting styles. Qyren's was more refined; she liked to move. Alex relied on a mix of technique and brute strength. He knew he was a big man, and he used it to his advantage. Her first strike was deflected by his forearm. The punch stung, but it was far better than it flying into his face. Fortunately for Qyren, she was far more agile than the Commander. She practically ran circles around him with her spinning, and he was struggling to keep her in sight. The kick she sent toward her knee went unseen, and sent him crashing down to the floor.

"Sh-..nice!" He boomed with approval. She would be upon him in moments -- he couldn't afford to stay down here.

He drew up to his full height a moment later, and used the momentum to shoulder charge her. When Alex had his sights on something, he could be quick. His arms were outstretched to pull her into a bear hug, and if he succeeded, he would lift her up high and slam her down on the mat. In a combat situation, it was designed to put one's foe into shock, or even break a spine. Here in the safe matted room, it would do little more than immobilize for a moment, and if Alex succeeded, pin her long enough to claim his victory.

[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

It brought him down. With his endorsement ringing in her ears, Qyren took advantage of Alex's brief time on one knee to bring her knee up into his face; he moved back just in time, launching to his feet and avoiding what may have been a broken nose. She stumbled back, caught off-guard, and didn't have time to move out of the way before she felt his body hit hers, his arms snapping closed around her.

Shab.

For one moment she had no purchase on the ground; her body was too close to his to get a knee up, and her arms were constricting by the immovable cage of his arms. Seconds before he dropped her with the full weight of his body behind it, she slammed her head forward into his. Stars crossed her vision from the headbutt as the force of the mat impacting her back drove the breath from her body. A few useless gasps saw only black spots joining the stars across her vision, and she forced herself to inhale slowly and shallowly as the only way to assure her lungs would get useful oxygen. The weight of his surprisingly heavy form didn't help matters.

As she began to feel less like she was dying, she met his gaze above hers and let a smile turn up the corner of her lips. Put in my place indeed.

[member="Alexander Ontonas"]

 

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He counted the number off in his head. Three, two, one...pinned. Their short little contest was over, though to be fair he had a distinct advantage. Qyren was far more nimble and would likely win if she had a lightsaber, and he his blaster. As they were, he was simply larger than she was to an unfair degree. There was no way she could have won with her hands and feet alone.

Or, perhaps, he was underestimating her. He took a moment to reign that thought in; to make sure he did not allow himself to do so in the future. they would be marching into combat soon enough, and he did not need to allow his worry for her get in the way of the mission. Underestimating her was the first step down that path.

"You hit better than my brothers," he sighed, allowing himself a warm smile. He should have gotten up then. The contest was over, and they would need to see to other matters. Instead he pressed a hand to her cheek and lingered. He'd always been a bit brash in the past, but this felt right. They'd had time to consider things; decide on where they stood. He'd broached the topic before and she had not been dismissive. Now that he felt he understood the woman she'd grown to become, he was confident in his decision. In his heart, he was sure she felt the same. Still, there were doubts.

"Qyren, why are you still here with me? You have duties to the Jedi -- a future that I can't have," the words spilled from him without thought, "I'm not a good man. I told you this when we met: I'm a murderer. My only stake in this war is revenge. Why are you still by my side?"

The thought had been nagging at him since the day she'd returned. He knew why he wanted to keep her around, he just wasn't sure whether he was ready to say it or not. Why did she choose to remain?

[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

The light in his eyes changed as he touched her face, and Qyren felt herself tense as the press of his body took on added, though not necessarily unwanted, significance. She held herself very still against the urge to shift beneath him, trying to read in his expression where his thoughts were taking him. When the words finally poured from him, the concepts he expressed did follow a path he had taken with her before, but it was not at all in the same vein as it had been. These words were doubtful, almost bitter, sure of failure and an echo in many respects of the disturbing realizations he had come to when his memories had been unlocked. This was the uncertain side of Alex, the one she saw now and again to varying degrees; the one she had never seen him show outside of these overwhelming moments of self-doubt.

His adjustment to touch her face allowed Qyren to work her arm free, and she finally put a warm hand over his mouth to stop the flow of words, her expression tranquil but concerned. There had been so little time to talk even when they were able to be alone; she had told him bits and pieces of what she had done after Aikhibba, but there were so many little things he still didn't know and that ignorance was mutual for her. This misunderstanding of the Jedi and her place among them was just one such instance, but she felt that its impact was one of the greatest. There was so much expectation wrapped up in the term 'Jedi' that everyone had their own personal beliefs about what they were, what they stood for, how they acted. And, apparently, where that meant their loyalties lay.

"I have a duty to myself and to those who need my help." The statement wasn't hostile, but it was firm. "I choose to help others and do what is right, but that's because it is the right thing to do, not because the Jedi tell me I must. I never belonged to a Temple. I never took an Oath. I am not that kind of Jedi." Fairly certain he wouldn't interrupt, her hand slid back along his cheek and jaw so that she could run the tips of her fingers over his substantially shorter hair. Surprisingly, the words came from her as if she had given them a great deal of thought, though she could not remember having done so consciously. "If you kill it is because you have to, because you have no other choice. Revenge... isn't something I applaud, but I do understand why you feel you need it. If you have killed to stop those who spread chaos and evil and harm across the galaxy, if you have killed no one innocent or only killed the innocent unintentionally, then you have done no one a disservice. Least of all me. Least of all yourself."

She let her hand slide down his neck to his shoulder, refusing to break their eye contact. To look away might be tantamount to saying she was lying, and she wouldn't give him even that niggling doubt to play on, even if it meant their stare was uncomfortably intense. "I think you have good intentions at heart, no matter how hidden by hate they are."

I wish you would trust me enough to realize that it's the truth.

Qyren eased her hand over his shoulder. "Maybe I'm wrong." The smile grew, implying that the words were empty and that she was sure of her interpretation of him. "But it doesn't feel like I am."

Her hand finally settled itself on his chest. "You undervalue the best parts of yourself. I am still here because I don't."

They had acknowledged before that they saw one another in ways no one else did. They understood parts of each other that only they themselves had ever seen before-- and, in this case, apparently the parts they couldn't see themselves. He needed her to say what he couldn't. He needed a friend, a companion, by his side who saw and drew out the parts of him that he had buried under years of psychological trauma and training, under years of unholy crusades for vengeance or in the name of governments he didn't believe in. He was lost, in many ways. She couldn't guarantee that she could recover all of who Alex was, but she wouldn't if she could. This was the Alex she knew. The Alex she cared for. She wanted to help him find the parts of himself that would help him build stability and happiness in his life.

And, outside of feeling he needed her, she didn't want to be anywhere else. She needed him. It was complicated, hard to explain even to herself, but that feeling was dominant. No one was as close to her as Alex; with an intensity that frightened her, she had the impression no one ever would be again.

[member="Alexander Ontonas"]

 

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To say her words soothed his chaotic mind was an understatement. Part of him had thought she would grow tired of him after awhile; his adventures did not usually leave folks entirely pleased with him, let alone those close to him. Qyren was honest with him, and truthfully that was all he needed. She was his rock. His mother and sister had died gruesome deaths at the hands of the Sith, and with them went his stability. Qyren brought her own form of sureness, a certainty that everything was going to turn out okay at the end of the day. He needed that, and part of him felt that she needed the same feeling from him.

"I care for you like no other person," he sighed, pulling himself upward so that she would no longer be pinned, "My mother and my sister were my only goal for years. When they died, I had nothing. No one to fall back on, no goal, no family -- nothing." Her touch soothed him. It did not make him forget, like that of a midnight lover, but had more weight. One might find comfort for a night in the arms of a stranger, but Qyren was his. She was so much more than any of the other women who had entered Alex's life -- more than any other being really.

His hand slipped around her neck. An arm laced around her waist. Alex was never as good at explaining his feelings as Qyren was; he was a warrior, a man of action. It was only right that he convey such passions in the single way he knew how. He'd denied such thoughts for far too long anyhow. His lips moved to press against her's, though he was far less brash than he had on the night of their dinner date. It was short, sweet, an asking of permission. He wanted to know if such was what Qyren wanted without asking it outright.

"You became my family when I had none, and I can't thank you enough for that. I lo-...you understand."

[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

Oh.

She held her breath at the press of his mouth on hers. It wasn't unexpected; Alex had made his propensity for physical contact obvious in the past, and the adjustment of his hold on her had sent her heart thundering in her chest at the awareness of what was coming. Still, her experience with romance was mostly limited to... well, him. Everything was new, odd, and unfamiliar. She hesitantly returned the brief caress of his lips, faintly tense in his hold, but from expectation and uncertainty rather than unwillingness. A kiss was not something she would have initiated, but she accepted it when he did and stayed pliable in his hold as he drew back. Her hands had wound up on his sides at some point, anchoring her to him so that she was not completely submissive in her pose. She knew she was the one making her stance in their friendship-- relationship?-- uncertain and felt ashamed of it, but her head was spinning. It was easy to know him and accept their spiritual connection; it was difficult to begin to place boundaries on their interactions as more traditional roles took the place of the inexplicable connection they had before-- especially when she had spent so much of her young life struggling against traditional romantic roles and expectations.

Though Alex didn't finish his sentence, she did understand. She also understood that he couldn't say it, not yet at least. Time might provide him with the courage to voice his feelings; for now, showing them was a big enough step. And that was fine where she was concerned. There was already too much circling her mind, chaotic in the midst of uncertainty and obscured by the hazy threat of sexual attraction. The long, hard lines of his form were still stretched out above her, and they were becoming a not inconsiderable distraction.

"I understand," she replied, voice quiet, trying to focus on the familiar emotional appeal his mention of family entered into the moment. In trying to release some of the building physical tension, she shifted her leg out from under his and changed position. As she bent her knee, her thigh slid up along his hip, her ankle grazing along the outside of his leg, and she stilled as the movement sent a frisson of heat through her abdomen. Mistake. Stupid mistake. She closed her eyes briefly, feeling her stomach turning uneasily. It was too much too fast.

A shuddering sigh passed her lips before she met his gaze again, dark skin made darker by the flush of combined embarrassment and arousal.

[member="Alexander Ontonas"]