Here it is, the chapter that will bump the rating up to M. If you're a tad uncomfortable about it, it's ok to run in the other direction...then come back with popcorn, because oh sweet summer child, I will teach you that two women combusting the room with their physical chemistry is glorious, I will corrupt your mind in the purest most beautiful way possible. OK? OK. Go grab your popcorn. It's not that...corrupting...yet.

Oh, and Gold cloaks are different from the White cloaks. Gold cloaks are the Cuty watch. White cloaks are the Kingsguard.

again, bolded words are spoken in dothraki

"I believe you are looking for this?"

The unexpected voice makes Cosima turn so fast she almost topples over, and she can feel her heart slide all the way down to her stomach in fright. Actually, it is not that there is a person that causes the reaction, but rather who that person is.

Of all the people...You have got to be kidding me. There, leaning with her shoulder on the door's arch, is none other than Delphine of Lys, a thick leather bound book held up on her hand. Cosima is at a loss for what to say, so she blurts out the first thought that comes to mind.

"What are you doing here?" It doesn't help that her clothes, made from loose and soft material, is draped over her body in the Lysene style, which is to say, flowing in an absolutely enticing manner. Her shoulders are bare, exposing the creamy complexion underneath, and Cosima is not sure if it's the light, but she appears to be glowing. It doesn't help that there is a playful smile on her lips, to which brown eyes kept straying to. It doesn't help that the sunlight streaming through windows seem to lend themselves to her, casting an otherworldy aura on an already impossibly otherworldy hair. It doesn't help the dryness in Cosima's throat, stilling of her usual quicksilver thoughts. Nope, it doesn't help at all.

The soft smile quirks up in amusement. "I'm supposed to be the one asking that question, don't you think, Cosima?"

"Princess. Princess Cosima." she snaps, and immediately regrets it. She does not understand why she said it, because she never liked her title, doesn't like the formality of it. She's always been the type of person to be open and informal with people and has never, not once, advised its usage, until now that is.

There is a hint of surprise on the blonde's face, replaced by a small upturn of her lips. "Apologies. I thought you wouldn't prefer it."

I don't. Wait, how did she know? Her mind might be running at high speed, but her mouth remains closed, and Cosima continues to stare, not knowing what to say, until the Lysene eventually sighs.

"To answer your question as to why I am here, I work here."

"Work here? You mean under the Grand Maester. Is that how you can just come and go in his private quarters and private study?" The insinuation isn't lost, and Delphine stiffly straightens from leaning, all signs of friendliness and teasing lost, to be replaced by terseness, making Cosima automatically take a step back , her back hitting the wall.

Even Cosima knows that she went too far, not knowing the underlying sting of her words, but she can see its effect by the subtle clenching of a pale jaw, and the stony expression on hazel eyes, with hints of hurting that she will never truly know the depths of. Why did I say that?

"I..I'm sorry, I didn't-" she doesnt get to finish whatever excuse her brilliant mind was trying to come up with ,because long legs are striding forward towards her.

Cosima can feel the wall behind her, a physical reminder that she has nowhere else to go escape and retreat to, not when there's a blonde enchantress towering over her, gazing at her with such intensity that she feels her whole body heating up, gathering in her belly.

Holy... she is fucking sex incarnate, she wails mentally, pushing the suffocating heat flooding her even though there is a foot of space between them.

"If you truly want to know, then no." Somehow, this was an enormous relief for Cosima, until she reminds herself that it is none of her bussiness, but it's too late, because her sense of relief is very noticeable, making Delphine smile.

"My knowledge is something they need. Only I can determine the presence of the Tears of Lys, so no, I don't really work for the grand maester, but I am granted permission to his library, for research purposes. You, however..." she seems to have spotted something, her eyes training down towards the open vee of Cosima's neck. The way her eyes travelled down and the small smirk when her eyes stop at her chest is making the princess squirm.

Her mind was screaming no!, nonononono

Her body was sceaming yes, yes, yes, please yes just as hard.

I can barely hold myself up, and she's just standing there! What more if she were actually touching me...no, wait, I cannot think about her touch-

Her thoughts were inturrupted when Delphine slides a few inches closer with sinuous predatory grace, and in that moment, the heat in her stomach drops lower, pulsating Yes, dear gods, YES.

Her mind goes blank when she sees a pale hand reaching up, and for a moment, Cosima doesn't think, she just knows she needed to be touched, closing her eyes, and desperately hoping.

And then feels something being pulled out, the crumpled map she hastily jammed down her front to hide slowly being pulled by Delphine's fingers. Cosima gasps at the sensation of the paper's bumps and creases grazing her breast and her nipple, until it is pulled all the way out, causing electricity to run right into Cosima's core and raise goosebumps all over her body. Delphine is smirking as she holds it up.

"I suppose this answers my question."

She can feel her body crying out, and she knows that the person causing it knows. The Lysene's eyes can see it in her now-probably-more-black-than-brown eyes, to her slightly parted lips tingling to have contact, and when those eyes landed on her heaving chest, the way Delphine gazed caused her nipples to painfully contract, needing more than just the fabric they were straining against. By the mother, my body can't take this.

And then she feels the book's spine slowly being pressed against her thudding heart.

Breathe in, breathe out. Don't think about it. Nope, nope, don't think of needing that books pressure in other places, somewhere low-..by the motherfathercronewarrior. She doesn't get to the end of The Seven, because she can feel the pressure of the book travelling lower, down to the apex of her thighs.

She let the wall take her weight, her legs not strong enough to keep her upright, her hands coming behind her, aiding in her effort to not melt into a puddle by the floor.

Gods, can it get any worse(better) than this?

It turns out that she gets to have her answer, because Delphine, never breaking eye contact,reaches behind and takes Cosima's tattooed hand, laying it against the book, then putting hers on top of it, making Cosima's hand the one essentially pressing the book against herself.

The blonde slowly puts her other hand against the wall, and the princess vaguely notes its presence in her peripheral vision, inches from the side of her head. Delhpine leans in, and Cosima automatically stops breathing, until she feels the warm breath against her ear, whispering in a low seductive accented voice. "Take it," it almost sounds like a growl, accompanied by more pressure on both their hands against the book.

"Mmhmmn" it came out as an embarassing airy and high pitched half moan half whimper.

She does not even have the capacity to mentally cringe at how aroused she sounds, or that her eyes have fluttered close, because she can acutely feel herself clench, can feel the sufficating heat and electricity flowing between them.

Cosima feels a sudden chill, not quite understanding what happened, blinking against the subtle gust of wind. It takes a moment for her to process the image of the Lysene standing in front of her. That and the footwide space between them.

She stepped away, is her first automatic thought, which is exactly what she needed, because realization finally comes crashing to her. First came embarrassment, her face flushing with heat, then came incredulity. Did she just... Irritation, she..she did. And finally, indignant anger, how dare she. The heat from her previous embarassment morphs into fury. No words come out of her mouth, not because she has nothing to say, but because she has so much to say and doesn't know where to start.

The other woman, however, seems unfazed, looking quite amused, the hint of a smirk still staining her lips. Stop, no, don't look at her lips, I have to think clearly.

"I think I should have a word with Lord Felix, about accidentally misplacing important documents." That momentarily stops Cosima's anger, the weight of being found out making its way to the forefront of her mind. Right, that. Shit.

"Maybe he should be careful where he places it next time, no?" and then she turns away, sauntering towards the door. "And like I said, if you should ever need help, just come to me." she throws over her shoulder. She opens the door, but doesnt step out just yet.

"And you should also probably go back behind to books, so to speak." she closes the door behind her.

Once the blonde was gone from her sight, she let her boneless legs slide to the floor, her lungs gulping much needed air, the heat below still pulsating, making her very much aware of the warm sticky fluid between her legs, along with the book she came to "borrow" held in her shaking hand.

Wait, "get back behind the books"? She knows how I got here, that Felix helped. She knows damn well that he didn't 'misplace' it...does that mean she won't tell anyone? But why?

She has no time to continue her musings, because she hears a sound outside the door, prompting her to scramble and crawl (her legs haven't quite recovered yet) towards the bookshelf, and disappearing behind it just in time before she hears the door open, the sound of chains clanking in the background.

She can feel her thudding heartbeat, but she knows it isn't really because of almost being caught, but because of a certain voice, a certain pair of eyes, a certain shade of paleness, a certain perfectness she has yet to compare to when it comes to hair, a certain foreigner who is slowly making her go crazy.

Carriage wheels slowly ground to a stop, and not more than a second later, its doors fling open, a gold laced crimson boot stepping out, the dark red cloak billowing against the wind as Rachel strides purposefully towards the postern, one of the hidden entrance doors of Casterly Rock. A solitary guard is shaken from dozing off, wondering who would come barging in the back entrance at such an ungodly hour. He holds out a hand to stop her, then effectively trembles when she whips her hood off, her menacing glare melting right through his armor

"My Lady, I.." she waves his stutters off, gesturing for him to open the door. She doesn't waste time and heads towards the stairs.

More murmers of "my Lady" come from the odd servants who have seen her, surprised at her sudden presence, but she pays them no mind. One voice is succesful in slowing her down.

"My Lady."

"Daniel." she answers cooly. "Less than a minute of my arrival and you're already here. I'm impressed."

"If you would've given word of your arrival, I would've made the necessary arrangements and you'd be more impressed." he says casually.

"There was no time." she resumes walking, and he falls into step beside her.

"Would you like to explain?"

"Why don't you explain how you knew I was here?" she evades.

"It...wasn't me."

She immediately gets it, and stops abruptly, causing Daniel to walk back the few paces he overstepped, coming to stand under Rachel's glare.

"She's supposed to be asleep at this hour." she grits out.

"She can be stubborn...determined." he amends at the raised brow he gets.

Rachel lets out an exhausted sigh, her almost nonstop ride thorugh rougher terrains finally getting to her.

"I'll talk to you later, I have more important things to attend to. In the meantime, have a bath drawn." He decides not to question her, and bows instead "Yes, my Lady." he heads the other direction, knowing that Rachel has her reasons, albeit hidden, are of importance if she decides to pop up unannounced and in a hurry.

Sarah is outside her tent which she single-handedly put up herself while mentally criticizing the citizens and soldiers who were giving her looks varying from disgust to amusement.

Soft, weak, people. Disgusting, I bet they don't even know how to put up a tent.

A space near the City's godswood was granted to her, thanks to Cosima's efforts after she spat on the floor in refusal to being housed inside Maegor's holdfast.

She sits outside, near the fire she has built hours ago, and for the first time since coming to the Capitol, she allows herself a moment to think, and to process everything that happened so far.

I was mad in agreeing to that old crone. Everything is confusing here, so many unnecessary things, so many unanswered questions. And the one called Ethan Lannister is dead.

That was something she doesn't really know how to handle. I came all this way for a dead man, and his replacement, the so called Hand, his daughter, appears as clueless as I am.

All the thinking is making her head swim, and she huffs, reclining on the spread by the fire.

The stars look paler and weaker than she is used to seeing them, but she sees them nonetheless. Her view of the stars is somehow marred by a few trees, and she casts a glance around the area, taking in the dark shadows of trees and plants, and beyond are the guards she knows are watching her, as demanded by the Hand. She feels a sudden stab of homesickness, missing the vast plains, the clear skies, the comforting smell of horses, never really dreaming that she'd ever leave the Dothraki Sea, much less cross the Narrow Sea.

She grunts, feeling silly, and decides to do one of her favorite past times to ground her, so she takes her whetstone out, the sound of it sliding against her blade bringing her imediate comfort.

She grips her weapons with newfound intensity. After losing them, even just momentarily when she handed them over, she vowed to never let go of them again, not while she had arms, because while she is a very skilled hand to hand fighter, she is a better melee fighter, plus the fact that her dagger was her most prized possession, something she's had ever since she can remember. She was no fool, she knows it is no ordinary dagger, because it is the best steel she's ever used, sharper than any blade she's ever held, coveted by her fellow warriors in training. She doesn't sharpen it, unlike her arakh, because it doesn't need constant sharpening. She gazes down at it, the fire reflecting on its blade, and then there is a flurry of motion as she turns, a dull thump sounding off in the distance. Her hand is outstretched, the dagger no longer in her hand.

Felix makes his way towards to glow of the fire, using his knowledge of the place, effectively evading the various guards posted around the Godswood. Oh, silly little soldiers, she knows you are there. Quick and light as a fox, he flits through the trees and their shadows, reminiscent of his thieving days, working his way up the channel of knowledge and whispers.

He hears the clear sound of an arakh being honed to perfection, and he smiles as he steps closer. When he is close enough to observe her, silence has replaced the repetetive sound of the whetstone, and instead, he sees her looking down at her dagger.

She seems deep in thought. I wonder what she's thi-

He never gets to the end of his internal question, because the dagger she was staring at intently a moment ago was now embedded against the trunk, an inch away from his right eye. For, a moment, he is terrified, surprised and confused as to what happened. And then he smiles, stepping out of the shadows, presenting himself to her.

"Careful, you could have killed me." he says in a half serious tone. "Valerian steel. you know nothing cuts quite like Valerian steel". H reaches to touch the hilt, attempting to pull it free. It doesn't even budge an inch, and he tries with both hands, pulling with all his might. It doesn't budge. He tries using explosive motion, jerking in sudden force. It still doesn't budge. By the mother, how deep did she burry this blade?A bead of sweat trickles down his brow, his arms straining to loosen it up and down. He hears her approach, and she scoffs at his efforts, pushing him aside then effortlessly pulls it out from the tree. How the hell did she...nevermind. He just shakes his head.

"If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead." She wipes the sap that has clung to the metal.

A smile quirks up from the corner of his lips. "Come now, I know you understand me, and everything you've ever heard since coming here, don't you...Sarah." He drops her name slowly, and he notices the way her hands slow down from wiping the blade.

She slowly turns to face him, a serious expression on her face, the khol around her eyes intensifying the silent warning emanating from her. "What to do you want?" her voice is low, and it comes out in the harsh accent of the horse riders.

I knew it. Felix almost blows out a sigh of relief.

"The last time you, your blade, and I were together was also quite memorable." he says instead, "except I was cowering behind your back and you were pointing that dagger to the khal, with his whole army of bloodriders behind him."

She betrays no emotion as she continues looking at him. "Surely you remember that day," he prods.

Of course she remembers that day, it was the day she was taken by the dothraki, the day the both of them almost died.

It was in Slaver's Bay, and they were just one of the countless orphans running around trying to escape the slave traders and survive at the same time. Normally, the street children can get away, what with their size and speed, but that day, the khal decided to invade and sack the place, to claim slaves to be sold, and whatever valuables they can find. It was utter chaos. Blood was everywhere, women were mercilessly taken even out on the streets, beside the corpses of the men unfortunate enough to come across a dothraki. Sarah could see one of the bloodriders dragging a screaming and kicking boy who was about her age. She doesn't really know him, but she has seen him once or twice, and she shared her spoils of theft once when the older boys took the bread he stole, and in return, he would share his blanket during the colder nights. They have become partners, in a silent way.

Don't cry, you'll make it worse. She was hoping he would stop screaming. Don't show weakness, or they'll kill you. He finally sees her, huddled underneath a fallen tent, and he screams louder.

Idiot, stop it!

The terror in his eyes bellows the terror in his screams. The warrior dragging him through his hair has finally had enough, and flings him to the ground, deciding that he isn't worth it.

"We have no use for a skinny squealing rat." he spats out, and draws his arakh, approaching the cowering and sputtering heap of skin and bones on the ground. Felix looks up, sees the curved blade held high by the terrifying dothraki, and knows what it means. He puts his arm up, diving to the side to evade the downward blow. He is not fast enough, and the blade catches him, slicing his arm open.

He screams his lungs out at the pain, the blood flowing fast and hot down his arm. The dothrak seems surprised, but then sneers, striding towards him once more.

"I will not miss this time."

Felix knows that this is it, this is the final blow, and he turns his head away, squeezing his eyes shut, expecting his head to roll away from his body. He hears a roar, but the blow never comes. Instead, he hears a gurgle, then a thud.

He slowly opens his eyes, then turns back to where a terrifying warrior was towering a few seconds ago. He is no longer standing, he is twitching on the ground, holding his throat, glaring incredulously at Felix. No, not me, he isn't looking at me, he's looking at..

It's then that he realizes there was someone else standing directly in front of him, facing the khal and the other bloodriders who have now gathered from the commotion.

Dagger girl! He cries in relief, then flinches at the harsh hiss from her, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care because she is there, standing in front of him, dagger pointed at the fiercest and most feared warriors of the land, and the only one protecting him.

The sight of the Khal on his horse, a mountain of a man, warpaint and blood smeared on his face, effectively shuts Felix up in fear, and he wonders how the girl in front of him could still stand thus when he is pissing himself on the ground. The Khal surveys the scene, his eyes travelling from the dothraki with an open throat, to the two children a few paces away.

"You killed one of my bloodriders." Even his voice is deeply terrifying for Felix. He says it more as a statement than a question, the irrefutable evidence on his feet. He dismounts, his leather boots causing the dust to tremble in the air.

"You will pay for that." he says, staring down directly at Sarah. Felix is now absolutely sure that they were both going to die, because they are surrounded by dothraki and it is the Khal himself who will end them, and nobody escapes the Khal. Instead, he is once again surprised, because Sarah is no longer in front of him, but charging towards the biggest man he has ever seen, screaming with her dagger raised high above her head. Nobody could've anticipated such a move, even the Khal is surprised, but he recovers quickly and swats the child away as if she were a fly. Sarah lands on a grunt a few feet away, the side of her jaw beginning to bloom a vicious bruise. She can taste the iron and salt filling her mouth, and she spits it out, coughing and groaning at the pain. She can hear a booming laugh behind her.

"The little girl thinks she can defeat me with her little toy!" more laughter from the other riders follow. The heat and the pain is making her dizzy, and she is on her hands and knees, but thanks to the sun's position, she can see the Khal's shadow coming closer, and when she sees the shadow of his arm reaching for her, she lashes out, turning her body and using the momentum to cut whatever somes in contact with the dagger she was still gripping in her hand. She glances up to see him looking at his palm in awe, a deep slice now flowing a steady stream of blood down to the ground. To his credit, he doesn't even flinch, he doesn't even seem to be in pain, he just looks at his palm in awe. And then his face morphs into an expression of anger.

Sarah doesn't know what hit her, she only knows that she is sailing through the air once more, crashing to the ground in a painful manner. And then she feels herself being hoisted by the neck, the air slowly being choked out of her. She tries slashing, but she feels her hand being crushed by a giant fist, stopping her from any attacks she had in mind. She would have screamed, except her there was no way her scream could get out because her airway is squeezed shut. She is dimly aware of the cheerchanting from the riders who were witnessing her execution, but in the haze, she hears someone give a command.

"Enough!" The chanting stops, and Felix turns to see who it is.

There were murmurs of "Khaleesi" all over as they make way for her horse.

"My love, put her down." He hesitates, but he does loosen his grip a little, allowing even just a small gulp of much needed air.

"This child has taken one of my warriors." There is an echo of agreement from the khalasar, but the khaleesi's voice manages to drown it out with her clear unwavering voice.

"Then he was not fit to be a warrior if he fell under a child's skill." One by one, they quiet down, and the Khal smiles at his wife. She is cunning as she is strong, which was one of the reasons he was devotedly in love with her. He allows a small smile to make its way past his lips, pride shining through his eyes. He puts Sarah down, who wastes no time coughing and wheezing, desperately trying to get air back into her lungs, before she passes out from the pain.

"What do you want to do with her, my love?"

The khaleesi is staring intently at the girl's hand.

No, Felix realizes, she is staring at what's in her hand.

The dagger. Even the Khal notices, and asks his wife if she would want it.

"The girl as well." He stares at her in confusion, but then is distracted by her smile as she dismounts her horse, his wedding gift to her.

"She is special, my love. She has already proven it today. She is brave, she was able to kill a full grown blood rider, and this" she lovingly takes his hand, bandaging it, smiling at the slightly miffed expression on his face, "why, she is one of the few and rare people to ever give you a scar."

He ponders over this, then gives a nod. "She will grow to be a fine dothraki."

"Yes, she will."

She sees the still cowering little boy in the corner of her eye.

"Why don't you go ahead and round up the others, take what can be taken. I shall follow, as soon as I get her on the horse." The Khal looks down on her, then kisses her on the forehead.

"You heard your khaleesi, go!" The sound of thudding horse feet makes the ground tremble as they ride out, following their Khal to finish what they came for.

Siobhan inspects the knife, still wet with her husband's blood, and she feels a prickle at the nape of her neck. She wipes it, then sheaths it at the scabbard tied to the girl's waist. She hoists them both up on the horse. A whimper draws her attention back to the small boy looking at her with fear, then her eyes travel toward his arm. She approaches him, and he tries to scamper away.

"Let me look at it. I can stop the bleeding." He goes very still, his eyes going wide.

"You...speak the common tongue?"

She smiles, and takes out a fresh set of bandage, along with a needle and a thread. He flinches when he sees it, but then he looks over to Sarah, still unconscious on top of the horse, and he decides to swallow his fears down. It doesn't escape Siobhan, and almost laughs. "You are a brave boy." she says, sewing his wound close after washing it. His face is red from the effort of not screaming as the needle sews his skin close. When she is done, she gives him a small bag of gold.

"I'm sorry, I can't take you with me. This is all I can offer you." He watches as she gallops away, joining the rest of the khalasar, the trail of dust becoming smaller and smaller in the horizon.

"So, how is the khaleesi?" Felix asks her. They were seated in front of each other, the fire between them.

"Dosh Khaleen. She is Dosh Khaleen now."

His brow quirks up. "Dosh Khaleen. I see." Then after a moment, "you don't have to speak the dothraki tongue, you know."

He notices how she bristles at this. "I am dothraki, and I will speak dothraki." Felix doesn't really understand what she said, but he understands the gist of it, so he puts his hands up as a sign of peace.

"I meant no disrespect." He wonders where that girl who risked her life to save him has gone. She trully is dothraki. Ruthless, harsh, and cold.

"You did not answer my question, what do you want?" For the first time, he considers that maybe this was a bad idea. "I was just wondering how you were, I never saw you again after they took you. I...I couldn't forget." He used his network of spies to look for information about the orphan who saved him once he was powerful enough to do so, not being able to find anything since he didn't even know if she was alive, not until someone gave him a special assignment to track someone down that his hopes were renewed. He wasn't sure if it was her, if it was the same person, until he saw her draw that blade in the middle of the throne room, in front of all the gathered nobility.

He clears his throat. "I guess I'll go back now, sooner or later, someone will notice my absence. I'm not the only one with spies in this place." he reasons his way out. I guess she growing up with the dothraki has really changed her.

He looks at her, expecting her to say something, or to even acknowledge his farewell, but she says nothing, she just keeps staring at the fire. Felix gives up, turning back towards the trees. He is about to blend in with the shadows when he hears her.

"You're still too skinny."

He could hear the slight teasing in her tone, and he stops in his tracks.

"And you still point your weapon at people's ruling kings." he answers in the same tone. He doesn't look back, but he knows that she is smiling.

Delphine makes her way towards the experimentation room, immediately engaging the Grand Maester in a conversation. I hope Cosima has already gone back, she thinks as she watches Aldous enter his private study.

Maybe I shouldn't have teased her that much. She didn't know that teasing Cosima was as torturous for her. It took all of her willpower to step away, especially when she heard the princess groan. Delphine is unaware of the smile on her lips.

Even though she distrusts me, it's good to know that her body still recognizes me. She lets this sink in for a while. Is it wrong for me to actually feel good about that? She thinks back on the repetitive heartache she encounters every time she wakes up, because it doesn't matter if it's a good memory or a bad one, because she either wakes up from the pain or from the yearning, either way, it always breaks her heart, because in this world, Cosima is resisting her.

But again and again, Delphine has to tell herself that if their situation was reversed, she wouldn't trust herself either, specially when she DYAD had her hands tied around her back, letting herself be painted a villain just so she can hide her true motives, even if it broke her and Cosima apart, because to her, Cosima's life was her priority.

I hope this world can be more forgiving, she wistfully muses, then she drowns herself in working with the maesters.

Rachel heads straight to her father's room, to the spot she remembers him calling her his little lioness for the very first time. She stands in front of a painting of her mother, and starts feeling its edges for any space or catch that will open up to the space she knows is behind it. Her fingers encounter a small embossed oddity. She presses on it, and she hears a click, the painting swinging ajar. She opens it, expecting to find answers. There are more papers inside, every one of them seemingly written with gibberish.

He encrypted it. But instead of feeling dread or frustration, she can feel her excitement growing. If it's encrypted, it means it's important. She doesn't mind having to decrypt it, because she now knows for sure that her father was hiding something huge, something bigger than she has originally imagined. The sound of the door opening makes her turn, the pitter patter of small feet increasing into a run a small girl runs towards her, colliding with her leg.

"Mummy! I knew it was you." she snuggles her head at whatever part of Rachel she was currently grasping.

"Kira."

AN: any question, suggestion, reaction is appreciated. Even if it's just mostly screaming and random words, I'd still love to hear your thoughts, because I get tired listening to mine. Thanks for reading.