Judith stares into the rain, tracing the shaft of her spear with restless fingers. Running her hand over notches and scratches reminds her of bloodshed, and of the irrepressible exhilaration that goes with it, but it doesn't soothe her. This is a fight she can't win with force.
There are many things Judith finds easy. Fighting is one of them, and perhaps the most prominent. Loving, however, isn't. She smiles, faintly, sadly, to remember the days before she met those with whom she travels—afraid of the fire of friendship, afraid to get too close lest she be scorched. Now, their blaze warm and pleasant, she sits next to them with her eyes shining in their light—maintaining a safe and instinctive distance, should she need to cut and run.
But there is one among their number who beckons her closer still, into the smoke and flames themselves, and Judith is afraid again. She covets the thrill of impending danger, the breathlessness, the searing heat—but not the tears stinging her eyes, nor the burns that will never heal. She can't have one without the other. She must make a decision.
Judith closes her eyes, listening to the drum of the rain on the awning, thick and steady. Her friends—and him—still lie inside the simple inn, the final battle over and done with, on their unhurried way back to Zaphias. They're all so brave, led by the most courageous one of them all, and here sits Judith, running motionlessly away from him.
Love, she supposes, has different definitions for all. Hers is a sense of as yet unknown unity, passion and tranquility in equal measure. So far, Judith has dared to dance through the flames many times before, just so she can taste that thrilling, breathless heat—but always makes sure to dart away again before it can envelop her completely. Now, she's certain that if she takes a deep breath and steps forward into the coals, she will voluntarily stay there until she's completely incinerated.
Judith lets out a long and agonized sigh, gripping her spear's shaft more tightly, and briefly entertains the idea of summoning Ba'ul and flying away from her feelings. The group has no need of him nor the Fiertia, after all; Estelle has requested that they travel on foot to prolong the time they have together.
Something moves in her peripheral vision: as she turns her head sharply, her hand automatically twitches on her spear, but she immediately forces it to relax again. Repede pads deliberately forward and sits next to her quietly, clamping his pipe in his mouth, and glances up at her through somewhat narrowed eyes.
"Good morning," she begins, moving her hand away from her spear in a gesture of peace.
Repede merely growls. Evidently, he is uninterested in greetings.
"I'm sorry," sighs Judith, and both of them stare into the unrelenting rain again. "I should have told someone before I went outside." Repede dips his head in forgiveness, and a small and faraway smile tugs at Judith's lips.
She rests her head in her hands, elbows on her knees, and sighs. "I just needed some space to think," she continues, by way of explanation, and Repede tilts his head curiously, nudging her elbow when she does not respond.
Judith starts and glances down at him again, half-annoyed; she would like nothing more than to be left alone. Very little, she amends. There's one thing she desires more—the polar opposite of being alone. However, there seems little chance of that happening while Estelle is around; though he doesn't appear to return her subtle advances, Judith knows there's something between them, and she thinks she can guess that 'something'.
Repede growls under his breath, drawing her away from her gloomy thoughts, and Judith sighs, turning to him. "What do you want?" she asks expressionlessly, hoping he will understand her need for isolation.
The dog merely shrugs, as much as a canine can, before getting to his feet and trotting back inside without so much as a backward glance.
Sighing heavily, but grateful for the solitude nonetheless, Judith lies back on the dry wooden deck and closes her eyes, listening to the beat of the rain clash with that of her heart. She could almost fall back to sleep and forget her worries, but there's a thud from somewhere inside the building, and she frowns spasmodically.
There is a pause before swift and heavy footfalls make their way towards the door from somewhere inside; Judith opens her eyes confusedly to see (upside-down from her perspective) Yuri standing in the doorway, looking quickly around. She notices with a flutter in her chest that he wears no shirt, and his hair is almost as messy as Raven's.
"Have you seen Repede?" he demands.
"Good morning to you, too," sighs Judith as she sits up and turns around, blinking a few times to dispel the dimness which floods her eyes suddenly. "And yes, I have—a few minutes ago. Why do you ask?"
Yuri mutters something that might be a curse, leaning his head against his hand in the doorway, and makes a motion as though to turn around and go back inside—but instead, steps out of the doorway and sits next to Judith, a respectful distance away. "Why are you out here, anyway?" he asks, looking at her out the corner of his eye.
"I'm just… thinking," responds Judith evasively. The last thing she wants is for him to know about her tangled web of emotions before she's dealt with them herself.
"Oh?" asks Yuri, raising his eyebrows, and waits for an explanation. Judith says nothing, heartbeat quickening almost to the rain's frenetic pace: she tries to calm her pulse, with limited success. She knows Estelle thinks very highly of him, too, and she's the one who has known him longer, if only by a small amount. (Not to mention, she is the future Empress, and what man of the Lower Quarter can resist that?)
Yes, she thinks determinedly; she will keep her secretive silence, and wait for him to return to her. Where he belongs.
Yuri eventually sighs after a long time of simply watching her expression; if Judith made a habit of blushing, she's certain she would be crimson by now. "Well, if you don't want to talk to me about it, then…" He stands up again, and Judith is almost disappointed, though she knows he will not be able to help her, even if he stays.
"Let me know if you see Repede," he adds, walking towards the doorway, but the door shuts before he can walk through it, accompanied by a laughlike bark.
"Repede!" he growls, slamming his fist against the door futilely. "Give my shirt back, you son of a bitch!"
Judith can't help but laugh at the truth of his insult, though she tries her best to stifle the sound, and Yuri turns back to her with surprise on his face and a question in his eyes. Before he can say anything, Judith tells him, "I'm sorry," and she means it. She's sorry for feeling this way, and sorrier for letting herself do it.
Trying to convey all her emotions in two words with no context does not go over well.
"What are you apologizing for?" asks Yuri, sounding genuinely curious, and crosses his arms over his bare chest as he turns towards her. Judith feels something like fiery courage well up within her, and determines to tell him, but her bravery evaporates as soon as she opens her mouth.
"…I don't know," lies Judith, dropping her gaze with uncharacteristic diffidence, and Yuri makes a derisive sound and sits next to her again, looking suspicious. She knows she's a terrible liar, but it was worth a try.
"Well, now that you've tried to lie to me, you owe me the truth," he says, narrowing his eyes, and Judith closes hers. She longs to press her face into his chest and embrace him, and her hand twitches a little with the strength of her earnestness, but she says nothing.
"I'm just going to sit here until you talk," continues Yuri simply.
Judith resolves to ignore his presence, and focuses instead on her options. She hasn't told anyone else of her secret desires, not even Ba'ul, and the weight of it is crushing her soul. He may be her best friend, but there is much he does not understand about human and even Krityan society, and this is one of those cases.
No; she has to say something. If she refuses to speak again, the others will awaken and interrupt them, and she'll never get another chance. The moment is now or never, and she knows now would be better by far. The worst that can happen is being burnt to a crisp. What does she have to lose, save her heart?
Judith raises her head from her arms to find that Yuri is lying beside her, using his arms as a pillow, and meets his eyes with difficulty. "For being so open, Yuri, you're a hard man to read," she begins, and stops short, scrambling for the next sentence.
"I guess I'll take that as a compliment," says Yuri after a pause, raising his eyebrows. "What brings this up?" He evidently sees no reason to sit up again; Judith's eyes linger too long on his chest, and she thinks suddenly of how it would feel pressed against hers as she suppresses a pleasant shiver with difficulty. Now is not the time.
"Please," she tries again, hand finding its way to her spear and gripping it firmly; the familiarity of the sensation gives her comfort. This is just like any other battle, she tells herself, only strategy takes priority over strength this time. "Tell me what you think about—" Even the proximity of her weapon cannot afford her enough courage to finish her sentence. Fear is an emotion she's found no effective way to process.
"Hey, Judy, how about you relax a little?" says Yuri, a frown in his voice, and finally sits up again. He pries her fingers gently away from her spear, and her breath catches audibly; he looks up sharply, and Judith's eyes widen as she curses herself. He says nothing, however, as he withdraws his hand slowly, though his eyes linger on her face for a long time.
She is about to try again when Yuri murmurs, gazing fixedly at the rain, "What are you afraid of?" Judith turns towards him in surprise, hoping to find some sort of clue written on his face somehow, but finds no such thing: his expression is impassive. Too impassive.
"Estelle," decides Judith, clasping her hands before her. It's Yuri's turn to look at her this time, and she meets his eyes half-reluctantly, half-excitedly.
"Estelle," repeats Yuri slowly, frowning slightly in confusion. Judith nods hesitantly, and sees recognition flash on his face a moment later, followed by an unidentifiable emotion similar to triumph.
"…Estellise Sidos Heurassein? The girl who's head over heels for Flynn?" asks Yuri. "Or Rita," he adds, scratching his head with a puzzled expression. "Can't really tell which, actually. What's so scary about her?"
Judith begs to differ, having seen the way she looks at Yuri out the corner of her eye with rosy cheeks, but her heart sings in victory nonetheless, marching to the beat of the rain. "I don't know what you're talking about," she says breathlessly. "I'm not afraid of anything anymore."
Yuri raises his eyebrows; their eyes are still locked. "Prove it."
She pauses a moment to control her heartbeat before shaking her head smilingly. He expects her to kiss him, and she knows it; it's harder than she cares to admit to resist. "You know how bad a liar I am," she says. "Perhaps you need confirmation because you're the nervous one?" she suggests as lightly as possible.
Yuri exhales, turning back to the rain, before he turns towards her so suddenly Judith prepares to scoot back. "You beat me at my own game," he laughs, and wild joy dances in her heart as she recognizes that this is the highest praise he is capable of giving.
"…I'm not a fan of words," mumbles Yuri after a long and thoughtful pause, extending a hand to brush her cheek: Judith freezes for a moment before forcing herself to breathe again. "Mind if I show and not tell?"
"Why would I mind?" breathes Judith by way of response, all too aware of the sensual turn her voice has taken. This reminds her and her body too much of times gone by for her to be able to resist.
Yuri shrugs, and Judith catches him shivering at her tone and smiles. "Well, some people complain about kissing on the first date, and if this is our first date…" As he trails off, almost blushing, Judith allows herself to act on an impulse and surprises them both by gently caressing his jaw.
He tenses, startled, but relaxes so quickly Judith is sure she imagined it, and allows her to guide his face closer before he leans in the last few inches and closes his coal-black eyes lazily as their lips meet cautiously.
The door clicks unlocked and swings open, startling them both apart before Judith can ascertain his experience, and they both start trying to formulate excuses before they notice that it's only Repede. He stands there triumphantly, wagging his tail, and Yuri's forgotten shirt dangles from his dog's mouth in place of his pipe.
"Thanks," say Yuri and Judith together, with varying degrees of sarcasm and sincerity; both of them know it's thanks to him that they've found one another. Repede dips his head amusedly, drops the shirt, and trots back inside; it lies forgotten on the deck as Judith skips merrily into the flames, and resumes what was so rudely interrupted.
((I've had this scenario in my head for at least a month now, and it's about time I wrote and posted it…))