"Cordana," said Khadgar.
"Yes, Archmage?" she responded from somewhere in his vicinity.
"Unstealth and take it off, please."
"I beg your pardon?" her voice was edged with puzzlement.
"Your...encounter suit...or whatever you may call it," he responded.
Cordana Felsong unstealthed a few feet away from him. "I will most definitely not be removing any part of my clothing for you, Khadgar!"
His eyes were kind and his voice soft. "Please," he said.
"Why?" she asked.
"I wish to see you," was his reply.
"You see me every day," was her smart remark.
"The real you, beneath all that garb. Please, Cordana."
She stood motionless, watching him. Brighter, bluer eyes she had never seen before. Slowly, she took off her helmet. Her deep purple hair tumbled down in thick waves.
The Archmage stared.
The Warden stared back.
She undid the bladed cloak and let it fall to the ground but she would not remove anything else.
The Archmage stared.
The Warden stared back.
"Light, Cordana," said Khadgar almost breathlessly.
He crossed the distance between them in two long strides, placed his hands gently on the sides of her face and kissed her.
Slowly, tenderly, carefully.
He stepped back, just a little.
Khadgar stared.
Cordana stared back.