I've been kicking around some MonHun ideas and trying to figure out where my Tri/4 girls fit. Cue writing a bunch of stuff like this, but I'm also working on a real story! With plot! Set within 4U/World! Unfortunately my writing skills are rusting away and it's like pulling teeth... so here's some nonsense fluff before Tavia and Ryiel become enemies! Yes, they are the "friends to lovers to enemies" trope and I'm not sorry.
Tavia found her target deep in the Guild library.
Ryiel sat at a large round table surrounded by open tomes and flickering hurricane lamps. In front of her was a letter that her pen made quick marks on while she read from a thick book.
For a moment, the concentration on her face as she compared two books was enough for Tavia to take a step back, to doubt if she should interrupt. Ryiel's job was more than standing at a desk and stamping missives. There was real research involved to protect not only the hunters but also towns nearby sanctioned hunting grounds.
But Tavia had her own research to do.
"Ryiel, wow, funny meeting you down here." Tavia approached the table with her winning smile and intentionally put herself in the way of the overhead light.
Ryiel's eyes were sharp as an obsidian blade, her body coiled to tell off the intruder, when recognition set in. She immediately softened, a pretty smile on her lips.
"Funny? I practically live in the library, but I have a feeling you know that or you wouldn't be here," Ryiel said.
"I come to the library all the time. I'm a big reader—love books." Tavia leaned her elbow on top of one of Ryiel's smaller stacks and eyed the open books. "Especially historical meteorology."
The welcoming smile turned into a challenging grin. "Really? In that case, would you be interested in helping me cross-reference weather patterns near Hankala with these Kirin accounts? We need to determine if this is natural phenomena or related to elder dragon activity."
Tavia swallowed thickly, her palms suddenly hot.
"I thought so. Do you know how to read?" Ryiel asked. It wasn't mocking or accusatory—just a simple question.
"Wh-why do you ask? Everyone knows how to read!" But Tavia's voice was thin, her heart beating just a little faster in her chest.
"Because when I asked, you looked as if you'd rather jump into a Jhen Moran's maw than be here."
"Alright," Tavia said quietly, suddenly aware of the surrounding silence. "I know my basic letters, enough to work out key details in a quest. That's all I needed to learn and there's nothing wrong with not being able to read. But let me make one thing clear—there's nowhere else I'd rather be right now."
She found herself leaning over Ryiel, their faces inches apart as Tavia whispered her confession. This was it—the heart of her research. So maybe she was an uneducated brute but she wasn't blind to the hints Ryiel sprinkled in their conversations, or even the way she caught Ryiel looking at her. When Tavia returned from a quest, the guild representative was there to greet her with a smile and bright eyes, and usually with a mug of decent drink.
She didn't want to live in uncertainty. Tavia lived in absolutes, and this was something she absolutely needed to know.
The soft seductive smile—the one that made Ryiel's lips look so kissable—was back. "So you did purposefully come to the library."
"Your coworkers said you'd be here."
"Asking after me, are you? And why were you looking for me?"
Tavia's arm slid from the stack, a book toppled to the floor, as she leaned on the chair's arm. She needed to be closer to Ryiel. "Because I couldn't wait to see you."
Ryiel's head tilted, her eyes full of false innocence. "Where would you see me again?" she asked sweetly. "Dundorma is a big city, after all."
"I have a few ideas where I'd like to see you, but you might have different ideas."
"And you might be surprised," she whispered near Tavia's lips.
Tavia shuddered. They were so close she felt the warmth of Ryiel's skin, the short breath as her lips parted, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheek. She greedily turned up to Tavia like a flower seeking sunlight. And Tavia couldn't deny her.
Their lips met—softly, almost as if they were too delicate to touch, the moment too important to break—and then Ryiel's hands found Tavia's long ink-stained fingers coaxed Tavia closer, held her while Ryiel's teeth pulled her bottom lip gently.
Tavia groaned. Her whole body was on fire, her legs barely strong enough to keep her up. Ryiel smelled like ink and old leather and dust, and Tavia wanted to tell her it was her new favorite smell, that Tavia suddenly loved books, but Ryiel's fingers were sliding to the back of her neck, tangling Tavia's hair.
She couldn't think.
"I can have this cleaned up in five minutes," Ryiel said against her lips. "Wait upstairs for me."
