"Luci?"
The familiar, loving tone of his Tiefling partner and captain travelled smoothly through the air, reaching his ears with that sweet verbal honey. Careful, calloused hands were felt against his lower back, fingers delicately tracing along the outlines of fading scars that signified his old, forgotten life. Were they that intriguing? To trace them every chance she was given, as if the next day would wash away the damage in the Sun's glorious rays. She should be tired of them by now, if not of Lucien as a whole! But she wasn't . . .
Valmaia was his joy, his happiness. One of the first to display a sense of kindness to him, the first to give him a name! How could he forget that . . . ? Lucien turned to face the adoration, her hands which had been along his back remaining solid in their stance, ending pressed firmly against his semi-toned abdomen. Her features showed signs of concern, brows furrowed and lips slightly downturned, her sclera iris' beginning to adventure down the red, stoic face of the more devilish Tiefling. There was worry, ever present in her look. Directed primarily towards the male, who appeared lost in thought.
"Something the matter, love?"
Her free hand reached upwards from Lucien's stomach, fingers curling around the crimson curve of his cheek, his soft-skinned flesh pressing against it needingly. So many emotions were evoked with just a single touch from her hand, too many things that he was dying to say, but too many things that would be left in the silence that always lingered around him. Life was difficult to live, having so many things to say yet absolutely no chance to say them! The leverage held by Valmaia's hand along his cheek was used to shift the male's gaze, bringing their eyes to meet for another time, each one barely even staining the luster it held in Lucien's heart. Such emotion was displayed through such a minor action, the eyes of sclera that stared back into his own heterochromic orbs, the pale grey poorly illuminated but better at displaying information than any other work of art he had the opportunity to gaze upon; another beautiful feature that completed an already exquisite package. Internally he was melted, warmed like putty with his heart easy to mold in the hands which touched along his figure, all with an exterior that although figuratively replicated this internal, mushy feeling, was solid and with corporeal form. One that Valmaia took advantage of, exchanging the distance she created with her hands for a closed gap, each one moving until they looped around the male's waist and met with their opposite on the other side, using one swift motion to pull Lucien close.
"I'm sorry to hear that . . . "
Despite a glaring height difference, with Valmaia standing at 5 feet and 7 inches tall, with Lucien like a giant in comparison with the extra 7 inches he sprouted upwards. Her neck craned upwards to glance, if only for a moment, up towards his face, trying to see if her actions had elicited any sort of positive response. As her vision moved to meet the first curve of his face, trailing along the jawline with precision until the first indication of his lips, which had altered slightly from their initial straightness; curled up near the ends in such miniscule a fashion change was barely perceptible without keen eyes. Although, with countless hours spent toiling away with someone, even the minor things that in a common meeting would be missed, is noticed. That's why, upon the first glance, she was satisfied with her efforts. Head burying itself into his chest, arms tightly wrapped around his waist to bring Lucien as close as she could, willing to stand idle for as long as Lucien would have her. She was content, happy in this hold. Happy she could bring happiness, no matter how subtle, to the face of another.
No longer settling for an idle role at his side, arms brushed up by the invasive hold of the other, he'd shift the positioning of his hand until each one found themselves draped around his captain's shoulder, using the location of his fingers to brush those raven locks down onto her back. Painting along the tattoos that lined the blades of her shoulders with the tip of his index finger, sending a light shiver down her spine that triggered a minor shake that travelled down her body, minor hairs on the back of her neck beginning to stand on end. Such erratic movement caused Lucien's finger to cease, taking a single step backwards to catch a notion of what emotion Valmaia was feeling, easing her head skyward with a carefully placed index finger under her chin. Allowing the first sight of the sclera hue to come into contact with a smile, one that was built from a foundation of truth, whose second level was supported with falsities. All to inspire a smile from the cyan features, which curled at the end to reveal the sparkling teeth beneath the fleshy exterior.
"There's my Luci, smile and all."
Valmaia was visibly brightened by the very minor emotion that Lucien displayed, if only that was all it took to satiate worry in one whose heart beat in twine with another, especially directed towards those who shared their rhythm.Behind his back, the arms would unhand one another and begin to slink back towards their owner, fingers dragging along the red skin like tires against paved roads until they reached their destination of Lucien's hands, each finger taking the opportunity to snag their prey; intertwining with whichever fingers remain from the male's damaged hand. Newfound leverage being used as Valmaia began taking steps backwards, pulling along the distracted Tiefling until both found themselves toppled onto the edge of the bed. A soft laughter spilling into the quiet of the open air, lips upturned in a smile that ends as Valmaia would place a gentle kiss against his ruby lips.
"I love you, Lucien. You know that right?"
A question with an answer that was meant to reassure, with Lucien closing the gap between them once again, lips placed against Valmaia's in a moment of silent passion, in an action that spoke volumes for the mute. It lasted only a moment, but one that felt like a blissful eternity which ended with a Lucien that hovered only by the strength of his arms just above Valmaia's body, the raven locks of his smooth hair falling like a veil around their two faces. When her sclera eyes gazed upwards, they saw the sight they'd been accustomed to on their travels, that expression of innocent joy that radiated in each minor feature that the male held; this was what made her happy.
Light shined in through the window of their shared quarters, the irresistible rays of sunlight warm to the touch as they washed over the covered bodies of the two with their devilish features, both lying down on the bed which they had retired in earlier in the day. Lucien lying straight as a board, eyes staring holes into the wooden ceiling that was erected around the quarters. Valmaia's arm rested over his exposed chest, the other comfortably positioned underneath the pillow on which Lucien rested his head. Her leg draped over his right one, resting in the small space between his legs that allowed her to cuddle as close as she desired, which was to say that there wasn't space available in the slightest. Lucien was the first to move, taking gentle care to remove the hand which was stretched out along his chest, subtly raising his leg to ease off the one which rested upon his own before stealthily slipping from the remainder of her embrace and onto the wooden floorboards. In his absence, felt from the missing weight and imprint his body had left on the bed, she'd adjust the positioning of her figure, laying chest first onto the unoccupied space as her arms momentarily sprouted out, inadvertently flattening the ruffled sheets before returning to her sides. It was usually harder to slip away in the morning, with his larger physique, he almost always woke her every time he tried. This was already a positive sign, it meant he had the opportunity to return a favor; to reciprocate the loving gesture she had employed to break Lucien out from his thoughts.
A closet was opened with the finesse of a burglar, fingers like deft tools as they carefully selected the casual garments he would wear today. Strumming through a limited catalogue of seafaring uniforms, each one bland and dulled with the colors of labor, weighed down by the thick greys and muddled brown that didn't compliment his figure in the slightest. An outcome he should've been expecting due to the nature of his occupation, first mate to a wonderful captain but one with a limited budget when it came to fashion. Despite an internal conflict, one in which the more stylistically focused part of his brain fought desperately with the other, more lax side which could care less about the outfit that served as coverage for the more sacred pieces of his body, he would, after a prolonged and inaudible sigh, take from the closet and silently begin to put on. Once the pants were put on, a pair crafted from linen that barely gave room for the skin on his legs and below the waist to breath, colored a dull grey and with the occasional piece of obvious patchwork sewn on to fix a hole, he'd sloppily throw on the accompanying shirt of cotton which loosely hung around his stomach before making his way out the door.
The soft clink of the handle falling back in place signified his success, the door closed behind him as the jealous Sun beat down like a harsh bully in comparison to the gentle, wispy rays that shined in through the balcony window. Mellowed by the sweet, gentle sea breeze that splashed along his face for every rock of the boat in the calming ocean.