commissioned by an anonymous patron
Y'shtola felt it before she "saw" it.
Her head whipped towards it, and she reached out with the tendrils of her life force, hoping to gain some clearer picture. Alas, whatever it was, stood just out of reach of her supplementary aetheric vision. She would have to rise and make her way closer.
But it seemed that whatever "it" was, had decided to close the distance of its own volition, making its way through the fuzzy sea of perceived beings that crowded her line of "sight".
So Y'shtola sat, and waited, turning back to face her table, reaching out to pour more sake into her saucer. Only a few drops trickled out. She sighed, feeling the strange presence come closer. She remained at ease, a hand already poised beneath the table, fingers wrapped around the base of her staff.
She reached out towards the direction of whatever was coming towards her again- aetheric vision was phenomenal at increasing peripheral vision -and this time, felt nothing but the usual aetheric white noise of the crowd.
Y'shtola took a breath, easing the grip on her staff. Had she imagined it? …no, even without straining, she could still feel whatever "it" was out there. It wasn't making a beeline towards her, but it was still there, milling about.
So Y'shtola sat, and kept waiting.
She returned her attention to her thoughts, blank eyes in a passive gaze facing the crowd.
As it always was, Shiokaze Hostelry was a bustling din of people from all corners of the world. But it was more raucous, more boisterous, the usual murmur of combined conversation more akin to a collective shout for joy. What with the recent triumph in averting the Final Days, it seemed that every drinking establishment in all corners of the world was more raucous, more boisterous.
It wasn't her preferred place to spend a solitary evening, nor was Kugane the ideal place for her to spend any sort of evening at all.
But…Master Matoya had insisted.
Her mind slipped into reminiscence, back to the night Matoya had made her decision for her (a habit so ingrained that Y'shtola had no doubt that it doubly functioned as a favorite hobby…)
It'd hardly been a week since she'd taken up residency with her former mentor after she and the Scions returned triumphant to Eorzea. In that week, almost every day and every night, Y'shtola had dedicated herself to her research in the Great Gubal Library, poring over tome after tome, cross-referencing data from charts and formal peer-reviewed research. It was tireless work, but tireless work was the baseline of what was to be expected when the research involved traversal between the Source and its shards.
And every day and every night, Master Matoya would slink her way in close proximity. Y'shtola had known her for too long, grown up under the exact same gaze for too long to not recognize that she was being watched. A part of her was amused, a nostalgic sort of nuisance. But that part of her was quickly overtaken by annoyance; as she did in her most formative years, Y'shtola was beginning to find Matoya's increasing presence and enigmatic gaze vexing.
Master Matoya, though sharp-tongued as she was, was prone to passive-aggressive silence. She'd give Y'shtola looks that seemed to denote aggravation due to Y'shtola seemingly not being able to read her mind. In the past, Y'shtola would refuse to play into this habit. A small smile curled on her lips in the present moment, remembering the numerous conflicts that had arisen throughout her teenage years due to the impudent habit.
But Y'shtola wasn't a girl anymore, no matter how Matoya might have still perceived her. On one of those nights when Matoya shuffled on by, deigning to mind her own business, but still slipping a piercing glare towards Y'shtola's direction beneath the wide brim of her hat, Y'shtola rose from her place and asked.
What she received was a gruff grunt and an almost disappointed shake from Matoya's head. Before Y'shtola could say anything else, Matoya raised her head and met Y'shtola's eyes.
"Four days and four nights, and not a single moment's rest. Not a single morsel of sustenance either, save the water I replenish in your cup," Matoya said, giving a little side of a thumb against a forefinger. Y'shtola could sense the water in said cup, once again, refilling. Matoya shook her head again. "Hasn't all your gallivanting as of late been enough? First to another shard, then to the ends of the cosmos, and now, after all that, you commit yourself to more of your work. There's dedication and then there's stupidity, girl. Must I retain my role as your caretaker until my dying breath? All these years…have I truly failed to impart upon you any sense of self-preservation?"
And there it was, all the words Matoya meant to say with all those looks, spilling out in a rant that was in its own way a form of concern. Y'shtola could only smile, much to Matoya's chagrin.
"As I recall, it has always been you to take such a burden upon yourself."
Matoya gave another gruff grunt, shuffling away as Y'shtola further smiled to herself. She was grateful. This sort of confrontation was some of the closest she'd get to any form of affection from Matoya's perpetual grumbling…but it was for the best. The look they shared as Matoya shuffled over to a nearby table was more than enough.
Y'shtola found herself in thought, in the present moment for the first time in…four days and four nights…all that time with nothing to show for it. She was starting to doubt that any progress could come from the Gubal Library, even if she spent four more days and nights.
But…Matoya was right. The exhaustion began to seep into her. Physical, a tad (reinforcements of magickal means and various other methods at her disposal aided in her endurance during intense bouts of prolonged research- methods Matoya would heartily disapprove of, of course), but mostly, it was mental. The strain made itself apparent as she closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the slight ring of a mind stretched thin. She jolted, feeling a hand on her chest. Matoya rolled her eyes, muttering something about sleeping while standing up as she walked away. It was then that Y'shtola noticed the parchment that she was clutching, presumably from Matoya shoving it into her.
She unfolded it, eyes scanning it. It was a list of goods…all of them only to be found in Hingashi. Another slip of paper slid out from the parchment. Y'shtola's eyes widened. It was a reservation confirmation for a two night stay at Kugane's famed Bokairo Inn.
Before she could call after Matoya's slouched retreating figure, a wrinkly hand reached up, waving her away.
"Go make yourself useful, girl. And for the Twelve's sake, take your time. I could use the peace and quiet I'd grown accustomed to around here before you come barreling in here to research yourself to death again."
And that was that. As much as she wanted to stay, to keep persevering, Y'shtola knew Matoya was right. Even if she wasn't, there was no changing her mind when she announced it in such a manner.
Another sigh, and Y'shtola was ripped back to the present moment, back in Kugane, back in Shiokaze Hostelry. All of that had occurred the day before yesterday. As per her Matoya's, Y'shtola had gathered up all the goods, and taken a long rest in the inn. But now that she'd done all that, Y'shtola was…struggling to find out how to spend the rest of her stay.
The sun was still setting, and dusk was just barely beginning to creep over the port city. She'd spent a good part of the day wandering through the city, reliving memories from her time with the Scions, walking through familiar alleyways while taking care to avoid ones too familiar (she wasn't too keen on running into Hancock or his ilk; merchants weren't exactly what she'd picture as pleasant company, as it were).
But now, there was…nothing else. It was then that she realized Master Matoya's rant was more true than she realized; Y'shtola may have been prideful, but she was emotionally mature enough to know when she was doing something wrong. In this case, she'd seemingly forgotten how to relax.
Strange notion, an even stranger "problem", and yet here she was. Sitting in the corner of a drinking establishment, alone, with the itch to just dive headlong into work once more.
She sighed again, shaking herself out of her feedback loop of thinking. If nothing else, she might as well return to her innroom to work on more of the first draft of the promised book she had started chronicling the accomplishments and triumphs of the Scions in the past few, very eventful, years.
That was when she saw "it" again.
As if an answer to her prayer of boredom, the presence was once again making its way towards her. A sort of shiver ran through her, a thrill. Yes, this was more like it. She almost grinned as a sense of purpose compelled her to grip her staff tighter again, reaching out with her aetheric senses to grasp at whatever was coming.
Y'shtola was reminded of the time she'd mistaken the Warrior of Light for a Sin Eater. How the presence felt, the strange incongruence of feeling such an unknown presence amongst the familiar aetherine shapes of her compatriots.
Whatever this was, it felt completely different.
She isolated its shape, its strange color as it parted through the crowd. It glowed with a maroon hue that pulsed into other warm colors that evoked a sense of…heat.
Maroon…?
Colors indicated many things in regards to aether. Points of origin, the nature of an entity's soul, their level of energy. She'd seen plenty, considering where she'd been in her journeys.
But yet again, this was completely different. She didn't know what maroon or the other adjacent colors it shifted into meant, but one thing was now abundantly clear: whatever this entity was wasn't from the Source. If it could walk amongst the populace, physically brush shoulders with them, then it had manifested into a commonplace corporeal form, one that blended in with dwellers of this realm. More excitement speared through her. To think that all of her fruitless research in the Great Gubal Library could be supplanted with the discovery of an entity capable of bridging the rift between Shards…it was an opportunity, a chance she never could have dreamed of, and here it was, striding towards her.
It was close now. She stayed seated, all her excitement and sense of danger buried beneath a facade of perfect calm and collected ease. Her breaths were measured, her eyes denoted no sense of nervousness. All the while, she focused all her efforts into finally "seeing" what this thing was. A few more steps and it finally breached Y'shtola's range of aetheric vision.
"It" was apparently a he. A hyur male. He was tall, at least two heads taller than her. Physically fit. His skin was of a paler complexion. Not quite as fair as the Leveilleurs' nor Estinien's, but closer a hue to Urianger's. He had a rugged aura, but still held a sense of class, as denoted by his crisp button-down shirt and crisp pleated trousers.
Y'shtola tried not to narrow her gaze at him, considering he was a stranger…one whose smile caught her off-guard. She'd been so focused on him as a potential threat, an unknown entity that could have very well been a remnant of Ascian machination, that she'd forgotten the very likely possibility that he was still just a person.
"Good evening, miss. Couldn't help but notice you're all alone. Waiting for someone?"
Y'shtola blinked, appraising him again.
The stranger kept standing there, and when another moment of silence passed, he raised up his hand, prompting Y'shtola to notice that bottle of sake that he had been holding the entire time.
"...also noticed you seemed to be in need of some replenishment."
The turn of phrase made Matoya's face flash in Y'shtola's mind, and she had to bite back a smile. She peered back up at him, the hand at her staff loosening once more. She gestured to the seat in front of her.
"I appreciate the kind gesture, stranger," Y'shtola said, eyes affixed on him as he poured the sake into her saucer before helping himself to one as well. Their saucers shared a brief toast before they were emptied. Y'shtola breathed out through the flame that danced at the back of her tongue. "Must not have been easy, acquiring the house specialty on a night like tonight."
The stranger chuckled, settling into his seat. He had an easygoing way about him, but it was those types that put Y'shtola on edge. Again, she peered past the corporeal features of his garments, of his skin, of his flesh, baring his soul's shape. Even if he was so close, and the shifting maroon mass of aether was so distinct, she couldn't put heads or tails on what he was, exactly.
"A man of my chosen profession has his ways."
"Oh? And what profession is that?"
He poured Y'shtola another saucerful of liquor. She took it into her hand as he poured for himself.
"Guess."
"After we've exchanged but a few words?"
"And a saucer or two of sake," the stranger said, raising his saucer with head tilted, suggestive yet coy. "A drink shared makes fast friends."
Y'shtola rolled her eyes, downing her saucer and slipping it onto the table. Not missing a beat, he replenished it. She leaned forward, settling her head against her palm. She studied him. Not just the shape of him, the boundless intricacies of aether woven into a being, but the stranger as a man. He held her gaze.
He wanted her.
She blinked, prolonging the pause.
It made sense. His initial impulse must have been to approach her directly, before a keen eye noticed the fact her sake bottle was empty. In retrospect, it was clear from the first words they'd shared. From the first look he gave her.
Y'shtola wasn't naive- she knew how men looked when they wanted something more than paltry conversation. She'd entertained a few of them in the past. After all, commitment to anything but her work was out of the question, so what better way to relieve carnal needs than in the arms of a stranger, no strings attached?
But, of course the circumstances leading to such careless trysts were different than the ones that led to this particular stranger. There was the possibility of him being a potential threat…and on the flip side, the possibility that he could give her the needed edge she needed to discover a stable method of traveling between shards.
Y'shtola had to make her decision now. She wasn't one to waste time. She let out a sigh, considering all these decisions within the span of a moment. She let her lips curl into a confident grin.
For her research's sake, she'd entertain this man, see what he thought would win over her.
"Alright then, 'maker of friends'. How many guesses, and to what end shall my efforts be rewarded?"
The stranger chuckled, downing another saucer. He gestured with it after he gulped down the heat.
"How about just one? And if you get it right, then I'll get us another bottle."
"And in the case that I get it wrong?"
"I'll let you pay for the next bottle."
The stranger picked up the current one and shook it around, displaying its emptiness. She made a hum.
"Fine," she said, and her eyes gave him a once over. She looked back up at his face. "Merchant."
The stranger squinted at her, but he conceded.
"You're good. What gave it away? The coin purse round my waist?"
"Mmm…nothing on your person. Moreso the fact that you're a bit…"
"Persuasive?"
"Overbearing."
The stranger raised his hands and sat back in his chair, acquiescing.
"Not the first time that's been levied at me, but of course a merchant is only as good as his resolve."
Y'shtola cast him a look of doubt, but her lips were still upturned in a sardonic grin. The stranger challenged it.
"What?" he said, leaning forward onto the table on his forearms. "Do you want to test it?"
Y'shtola's brow cocked, and she reached over for her saucer. She kept her eyes on his before downing the sake. Then, after setting down the saucer, she gave her fingers a little shooing wave towards the bar, as if dismissing a little child.
"Go on, then. Fetch us another bottle."
The stranger smiled before obeying her command, leaving Y'shtola to look at his retreating back as he slipped into the crowd.
He really was quite…intriguing. Only a few minutes and Y'shtola's interest in him was piqued beyond the fact that he seemed to be some sort of unknown Shard-hopping entity.
Loath she was to admit it, he was quite entertaining. Despite his oafish surface-level demeanor, something in his eyes denoted a deeper sense of understanding, playing coy. Asides that, his eyes…the way they looked at her, it was different from all the other times she'd allowed a man to flirt. Yes, she'd felt and seen desire, but with this stranger it was deeper than that. She wondered if it had to do with the maroon of his soul, the way it churned and roiled with such intensity she could almost feel it exuding off of him.
Most of all, Y'shtola was drawn more and more into the mystery of him. She thought maybe if they sat in close proximity then she could glean some more valuable information on his origins, on the nature of his very existence. Try as she might, she just seemed like a normal hyur, just another man milling about at a bar.
An idea struck her then. She winced at it. It wasn't one that was exactly what she would have preferred to do. But…if it gave her the opportunity to get some more insight, some hard data…Y'shtola hummed to herself, the wheels in her head spinning.
A few paces away, she didn't notice the stranger coming back to the table.
The merchant paused where he stood, two fresh bottles of sake in his grip. He took in the sight of the woman he'd been chatting with. He could tell she was in deep thought, chin clasped between her thumb and forefinger. A furry ear atop her head twitched.
She was as beautiful as the moment he'd caught sight of her from across the hostelry; white silken hair a lovely contrast to her darker complexion, elegant black of a billowy dress draping over her figure but cinched at just the right places for her mature curves to peek through, greenish feathers hanging down from the beaded chain of some sort of headdress below the fringe of her hair that framed her round and pretty face.
Her eyes, a stark teal, seemed to gleam in a way that made the stranger feel a bit...naked. It was strange, especially considering the fact that it seemed she possessed some sort of visual impairment. She was excellent at hiding it, and he never would have noticed asides from a few tells. How she looked at the world around her was beyond him (judging by her staff and her manner of dress, perhaps she employed some manner of conjuring magicks?) but either way, when those eyes latched onto him, it was difficult to look away, the sensation of her prodding gaze exciting him and drawing him to her even more.
It was no surprise that she sat alone and was left alone. Beautiful she may be, the women radiated an authoritative presence that seemed to ward off any potential company. Perhaps the tattoo gracing her neck that signified the status of a Sharlayan Archon was part of it; though knowledgeable, the merchant was still a passing traveler from a distant realm, and his familiarity with known figures still had large gaps.
Whoever she was, he wanted her, and as he'd told her only minutes earlier, he was more than willing to let her intimidating demeanor test his resolve in any way she see fit.
Y'shtola's gaze drifted over to him, compelling the merchant to resume his return to the table.
He set down the sake. She cast him that cool look, that cock of the brow. He eased her silent question as he sat down again.
"Third one's on me," he said, quick to pour. "Now that we've established our rapport, tell me about yourself."
Y'shtola considered him one last time, the wheels in her head beginning to slow to a decision. Another breath and she took the saucer he proffered, and began to talk.
For the next hour, Y'shtola indulged the stranger in conversation. She answered his questions, poking some of her own. There wasn't much she could glean from him about where he was from, just some vague dismissive sidesteps about a "distant" land, how his travels meant home was wherever the tide and wind took him. The stranger found himself at an impasse as well. It was obvious that Y'shtola was more than what she said she was, but all he got was that she was an Archon who did extensive research on the nature of aether.
Of course, this didn't bother the stranger too much. In his days, traveling from town to town and indulging in his vices, he'd found that conversation was the secondary means for him to acquaint himself with the lovely company he was drawn to.
So for the last half of their conversation, he began to make his intent clearer.
Y'shtola had been ready for this; he'd been flirting with her and flattering her from the first few minutes of that first bottle of sake. Even so, the man was voracious. It amused Y'shtola, how forward he was, with his eyes, his words. More than both, however, was how the heat of passion that roiled in his aetheric shape seemed to only grow hotter, that distinct and piercing gaze channeling it into something that seemed to perceive the shape of her soul.
Before she knew it, the conversation came to a lull. A very intentional one.
"...I assume you're staying somewhere close? Bokairo Inn, mayhaps?" the stranger said, an insufferable grin on his face.
Y'shtola had every reason to brush him off then and there, but again…this was exactly what she needed for her research. The semblance of a "plan" she'd concocted as he'd gone for more drinks an hour ago came to the forefront of her mind again. She sucked in a breath, weighing her options…the stranger waited, letting the moment hang in the air.
They kept looking at each other, and it was obvious Y'shtola was considering the very thinly-veiled proposition for a nightcap. Y'shtola let another moment pass before she conceded.
Sucking in a breath, she stood from her chair in a sudden flourish. The move was so sudden even the stranger was taken a bit off guard, especially when Y'shtola's face was remained impassive and unreadable. For a moment, he thought he'd really lost his catch, and the look that flashed across his face made Y'shtola break her facade with a sly grin.
"You mentioned earlier that you'd be interested in seeing a bit of my research, yes?" Y'shtola said, a hand on her hip. "Considering how…well-traveled you are, I think it best if you come and allow me to run a cursory evaluation of your person."
The stranger narrowed his eyes, but an excited little smile ruptured the corners of his mouth.
"...and I expect there will be-"
"Yes, yes, you will be properly compensated with a...with a reward," Y'shtola said, almost grimacing at the last word. She reassured herself that this was…part of her research. But she seemed unconvinced at her own logic. They shared one last look before she turned on her heel. "Now come along before I change my mind."
The stranger almost shot out of his seat as she led the way.
"You...are most intriguing…"
Y'shtola muttered to herself as she peered closely at the readings she was taking from his shoulder.. Though she had no need for an aetheroscope, she utilized a variety of instruments to take measurements, jotting her findings down in a journal she was already more than keen to share with Master Matoya. She traced her fingers down his bare arm, pressing the warm and enchanted wood of her current measuring instrument deeper into his skin.
For the merchant's part, this all felt a bit more...clinical than he anticipated. Seated on a chair in the middle of the room, shirtless, as this woman circled him and prodded at him as if he were a wild beast, captured for study. Not that he minded. There was a certain thrill to it, but he supposed anything with someone as beautiful as this Miqo'te mynx would possess a thrill.
He watched as she bent over, peering close. She was still wearing the dress she'd worn at the tavern, the feathers of the dress brushing against his shoulder. She smelled better this close, her head swooping down to his chest at times, her focus honed to her study.
Lecher that he was, the stranger peeked looks through the criss-cross of the front of her dress when he was able, the way she bent at her hip in various angles in front of him making is impossible for him to resist.
"...and I see you possess a similar degree of fascination with my...particulars as well, stranger?"
Y'shtola peered up at him with a catty grin. The merchant looked right back into her clouded pupils with a grin of his own, shameless of being caught.
"A little. Though the intensity of my passing fancy is but a shadow to yours."
She snorted, swapping out her tools for the leather-bound tome of her journal. She peered over the cover, meeting his eyes.
"And yet you are the obedient little kitten who showed up at my door, at a time that I appointed. By any metric, t'would seem the one with any fascination exceeding a passing one is you."
"Astute reasoning, as expected of a Sharleyan scholar. Now that we have finally laid bare the fact that I am very attracted to such a beautiful lady as yourself, may I have a little peek at this so-called 'reward'?"
The stranger let out an "ouch!" when Y'shtola gave a chastising slap on his wrist. She tsked, stretching apart the instrument across the width of his neck.
"Oh, hush. Impatient and incorrigible," she shook her head, tutting, but it was difficult for her to hide the subtle curve of a grin on her lips. "You're lucky I'm gracious enough to hold off on taking you over my knee"
"Promises of a good tim-"
"One more word out of you, and the only 'reward' you'll get from me are some leftover Allagan tomestones for your coffers."
The stranger felt a slight shudder at the threat.
"...yes, ma 'am."
After a few more minutes, Yśhtola was satisfied. Well, as satisfied as she could be.
"Here," Y'shtola said to the merchant as she handed off an unopened bottle of wine and a pair of thin-necked glasses. She pointed towards the open sliding doors leading into the balcony with her chin. "Be a dear and pour while I finish out the rest of these logs."
"Yes mothe- I mean, ma'am-"
Y'shtola gave the man a glare, and he raised his hands defensively, walking out to the balcony, gait casual. She shook her head at his retreat, but she didn't fail to note that he left his shirt behind...nor did she resist the urge to give a glance at his fantastic ass.
She sighed, attention returning to her journal as he rounded the corner to slip outside as she had instructed. Y'shtola flipped through the pages of her journal again, a cursory final skim to see if she missed anything. As it currently stood, the stranger was two things:
1. An ordinary, unremarkable hyur.
2. A walker of realms unknown.
The latter fact made Y'shtola take in another breath. In all her time studying the nature of aetheric currents, of the nature of realms beyond, of the nature of Shards and the thin walls between them, she never encountered someone like the stranger.
He seemed to pose no danger. She began to leaf through the most recent pages, skimming through the data. His corporeal form was...normal. In fact, it was normal and ordinary to the point where all this shaping up to be as big of a waste of time as the stranger himself seemed to insinuate with his teases.
As undeniable as it was that the test data deriving from his physical body all came through as satisfactory, it was also undeniable that his aether's shape still appeared to her in a strange shape, a strange color, and roiled in a strange manner. Even if it retained a stable form in the current moment, in the current time, there was no guarantee that he retained it indefinitely; the face he wore now could be a different one tomorrow.
But of course, most concerning was the fact that all the data and measurements also pointed to a strange point of origin.
A realm not of the Source.
She found her feet drifting towards the balcony as she was lost in thought, the tome still face up in her palm. He stood there in the moonlight, leaning against the railing. She reached her aether out to fill the picture in with more detail, watching him and his contented smile, the gleam of his pale skin stretched with the brimming of his muscle.
No, try as she might, Y'shtola still only saw a normal, male, Eorzean hyur. Asides from his aetheric glow that denoted a soul from another realm, he was, to Y'shtola's frustration, very, very normal. The contradiction bothered her to no end, and she found herself quadruple-checking her notes.
If anyone were to cross between shards, or even traverse via aether currents on a regular interval, localized instabilities and pockets of incongruent matter replication were bound to appear. They didn't threaten the well-being of such souls, not like how the suspended time within the current stole away her vision, but they were there nonetheless. Nigh-invisible and harmless scars, souvenirs for wandering souls.
Yet here was this stranger, an inexplicable and profound discovery, and he seemed wholly oblivious and wholly ordinary, intent only on satiating his-
"Are you coming out to enjoy this gorgeous night with me or will you be poking your nose in that tome of yours until dawn?"
The stranger broke Y'shtola out of her reverie, making her consider just how long she been pondering her discoveries, skimming and re-skimming through her notes.
She took another breath, shutting her eyes for a few moments as she recentered herself. Another sigh and Y'shtola journal slammed shut with a single flourish of her wrist. She raised her gaze and handed him a grin as she walked over to him.
The stranger kept the grin on his face as he watched Y'shtola emerge out of the darkness of the room, her dark skin coming aglow inch by inch, awash in the cool blue of the full moon.
He was right. The whole purpose of the next couple nights was to not think about any of these things. Her primary objective was to discover if this man was what he said he was, a cursory inspection to see if his unconventional aetheric composition posed any danger or signaled any sort of forthcoming threat.
Now that there wasn't any sign of either, nor any connection to recent events concerning Hydaelyn nor Zodiark, there was no reason for her to be frustrated.
Master Matoya's voice rang out in her head again, more chastising she'd squeezed right right before Y'shtola left for Kugane.
"Always wont to poke your nose into things. T'would do you a world of good, just letting things lie. Twelve knows you ve been incapable of that since you were a little girl.¨
Y'shtola let out a breath, grateful Matoya wasn't there in the moment where Y'shtola had to admit that she had been right.
Swallowing her pride, Y'shtola decided to throw it all out into the wind. That was the other main reason she allowed this shirtless stranger into her room anyway: without so much as a look, he had promised a good time, and, for whatever reason, something about this man told Y'shtola he be the rare exception to the rule about incorrigible flirts, and actually deliver.
Upon reaching the balcony table, she slid the journal atop it next to the bottle. He proferred her the remaining glass.
She took it with a smile, sidling up next to him on the railing. She faced him and raised the glass up for a toast.
"To your altruism. Continued aetheric studies will benefit greatly from your contribution and sacrifice."
¨Right, um, cheers."
The stranger tilted his glass forward, meeting Y'shtola's with a soft tink!
They both took a long sip. Y'shtola shut her eyes, letting out a content moan at the ochre of it sliding down her tongue. Inwardly, she thanked Matoya for sneaking in the bottle into her belongings. "Something tells me you'll need this, little one," the note had read.
They shared a look that lasted a bit longer than Y'shtola had intended for it to last. Her gaze meandered down across his naked chest, as if just noticing he didn't bother to put a shirt on. Her skin prickled as she took another sip of wine, just now noticing the tension that had somehow eased its way between them. There was an expectation. The stranger's eyes burned into Y'shtola, anticipant.
She turned away from him, the silence persisting a little as they shared in the sips. She leaned against the balcony railing to look out towards the sea. In her aetheric sight, there was barely anything to latch onto. The only thing that called for her attention was that writhing mass of maroon just out of the corner of her vision…
"Beautiful night," Y'shtola lied, something arbitrary to break the silence.
"Mm…" the stranger said, his eyes digging into her skin.
Y'shtola knew he wanted her more than ever now; she could feel it in the aetheric composition of his very being. He wouldn't stop looking at her until she turned towards him. She did so with a sigh as if vexed at the inevitable. Her skin was soaked in moonlight and her full lips glistened with every sip she took, inviting.
"You know," he said, his eyes burning into hers. "Even with that little toast, something tells me you didn't find what you were looking for."
"Whatever do you mean? It was just a cursory examination."
"I don't buy it," the stranger shrugged. "but I'll believe you."
He left it at that, and another pause followed. This time, his gaze was the one that meandered, and Y'shtola didn't fail to notice where it went. He looked back up at her face, and Y'shtola looked back up at him.
Another moment of decision.
He was sharp as a tack, and they could go back and forth all night with their little flirtations, but it was these moments, these looks that they shared, the silent exchange of suggestion and insinuation…she realized these were the moments that set him apart from the other men, the other strangers.
And it was in this particular moment, as she ran a finger along the rim of her glass, did Y'shtola realize she wanted him too.
She gave in to the whim, taking one last gulp to drain her glass. Placing it on the table, Y'shtola looked back at the stranger, sashaying over, heels clicking in the deafening silence of the taut tension. He had that grin on his lips again, as if he knew this was inevitable. She wanted nothing more than to wipe it off.
Her breath hitched in excitement, a hand reaching up to his chest as she stepped up close to him, their breathing melding together in the scant few ilms that separated their bodies. She lost himself in his eyes, that intoxicating maroon of his soul.
Y'shtola pursed her lips, keen to break through the pretenses once and f-
A finger pressed on her lips.
She opened her eyes. The stranger's face was still where it had been, and though that desire still burned in those eyes, the vexing smile of his was wider.
"Hold on…before we go any further, wasn't there a 'reward' that you mentioned?"
Y'shtola was stunned for few moments before she pulled back with a scoff, a scowl scrawled on her lips.
The nerve on this bastard…
"...ah. Right."
Y'shtola said through clenched teeth, an empty remark as she returned the stranger's suggestive look with a glare. But…the impish smirk on her lips gave her away. He liked to play games. In that case, she'd play some of her own. She took in a breath and made her way back into the room. She felt the stranger not too far behind, his presence and his breath less than a few paces behind her.
One last moment of indecision flashed through her mind. Was she really going through with this?
Y'shtola stopped the course of her sashay…right next to the room's bed.
She turned her head, eye peering over her shoulder. The stranger felt his mouth go dry and his knees go a little weak. Y'shtola could only grin.
Yes. She was going through with this.
"Can you...lend me a hand?" she said, her low tone suddenly sultrier than it had been all night.
"Forgive me for the trouble, but I thought my gratitude need be repaid with something requiring a little showmanship."
The stranger stepped closer to her, his breaths beginning to quicken. With the way Y'shtola stood, her back to him, her gaze cast over her shoulder, it was difficult for him to fight the urge to lunge over instead of walking.
"With audience participation? All this seems a bit out of character."
"I'm sorry I fell short of your initial impression, stranger."
"Well, I'm...I'm sure this flashy gift of yours will more than make up for it," the stranger said as he closed the distance between them. He stopped a single pace behind her, close enough for him to smell her, but still a bit far enough to cross into the line of intimacy. "Alright, so how can I help?"
Y'shtola didn't answer him right away, feeling his gaze on her skin. She bit into her lip, reaching out to feel the shape of his desire bristle against her, so close. Keeled only by her word. She faced forward, her pulse racing.
"The straps on my dress. I can't be arsed to undo them myself," she said, her voice a bit lower, but still straightforward and matter-of-fact.
The stranger got over the momentary shock of her request, but in the next breath, he took a step forward, and reached out to her dress. The black straps that criss-crossed against her dark skin were all came together in little knots that came undone with a single tug. One by one, he worked them over, unbuckling the clasp of the back of her dress that connected it to her ornate choker.
It seemed to last a small eternity before he finished, the tension in those tight accentuating cinches of her dress all loose. When Y'shtola felt that, she turned to face her body towards him. Her face had on a look that would have made lesser men kneel as she raised her hands up to the shoulders of her ornate dress.
"Much obliged, stranger."
A single pull from her wrists, and the dress cleared her shoulders and fell to the ground. She kicked off her boots.
The stranger was left thunderstruck at the sight of Y'shtola now wearing almost nothing but a pair of matching lacy black underwear, her bra a strapless piece that was snug around her chest, her panties a very prominent "V", its straps clinging to her hips. The lace complemented her dark complexion perfectly, and the way it clung to the suppleness of her thick curves had his fingers twitching.
He felt himself throb at the sight of her, licking his lips.
"Well? Is the reward to your liking?"
The stranger took another moment to respond, forcing himself to swallow before his eyes found hers. The way he looked at her made Y'shtola shiver in her own excitement, her thighs shifting together. Yes…she could tell this man was going to be fun. A dangerous smile curled on his lips.
"Depends. Is this the extent of the reward? A show?"
Y'shtola rolled her eyes, stepping forward, eyes tracing the hard lines of his muscle before a finger reached up to trace it with its tip. Their breaths were heavy now as her chest pressed up against his skin.
"Not exactly. More of a friendly discourse, an exchange of ideas…" she said, her voice so low it might as well have been a whisper. Her words wisped on to his skin in a way that made armhair stand on end. She batted her eyelashes, beckoning for his lips in a silent invitation. "...so I'd expect a bit more participation."
She let out a shuddering sigh when one of his large hands slid onto the small of her back, pulling her bottom half into him, making her feel the hardness that throbbed inside of his trousers.
"How about a lot of it?"
Y'shtola giggled, reaching up to slip her own hand around his neck.
"'Tis one of the greatest pleasures for a scholar to find an enthusiastic pupil."
"What can I say?" the stranger brought his free hand to her chin as their lips grew close, their breathy exhales mingling as the tension melted between. "I love to learn."
Y'shtola closed her eyes, sinking into the desire that roiled in his.
Though her research still seemed to be at a standstill, it seemed there could be something weaned from losing herself in the fervid marketplace of ideas.
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