Day Four: Night Watch

Terce wasn't quite sure what had drawn her to volunteer for this watch. Her and Demure, alone. On the twilit beach. At night.

Because of course that was what it was. Just two gals on the beach. Nothing off about that. Nothing at all. That's why Terce doesn't protest as Dem's hand slips onto her back, over her shoulder, lingers on the rise of her chest and then slips down, coming to rest on Terce's thigh.

Why Terce doesn't move as Dem shuffles a little closer to her on the log, head resting on her shoulder and blonde curls mixing with her own straight hair. After all, the brown and the gold would look nice together, and besides it's not like Terce's never had a friend like Dem.

Why Terce doesn't resist as Dem pulls herself around, and straddles her lap, hands squeezing Terce's shoulders before shifting forward to trap her in a soft embrace. She gives a momentary pause as Dem moves her body closer in, lithe frame pressing her own. But, as those soft, pink lips move towards a face decidedly neither of those, she simply goes with the flow.

As Demure's lips collide with hers, in an instant she can taste exactly why her temporary paramour and her volunteered for the same period. Taste the excitement on her lips, the excitement borne of chasing down her prey and bringing them down with a well placed javelin.

The excitement that's visible as they roll off the log, Demure's back landing on the ground with an oomph that blows air into Terce's mouth. She can feel Dem beneath her now, squirming and pulling her a little tighter in. Not that Terce would ever dream of ever letting go. Sure, she presses down a bit more firmly on Demure, and sure she only lifts off for air, but letting go? No. At least, not until Dem giggles, head pulling away and eyeing Terce with those honey-brown eyes. "So. How was it?" And Terce can't bring herself to answer with any lie, any joke. "Amazing. You're good."

A hint of something flashes in her eye, soon replaced with a sparkle and a wink and far too many words. "They teach us... a lot in One. Besides, you aren't half bad yourself, for a new girl. Give me another week and we could get some training in." A quirk of her eyebrow, and before Terce can contain the giggles Dem's on her again, lips hungry and excited and on Terce like a pack of 'Tazi.

The temperature's rising, and Terce isn't sure any more what's real and what's a delightful dream. She's pretty certain that the ground is spongier than it should be, and briefly stops to feel the plant beneath her, to make sure it is sea moss. This momentary break in contact, greeted with a sigh and a roll of Dem's eyes and a promise that "sea moss isn't that bad, I'll teach you how to use it to make shampoo tomorrow. They said it tasted nice, as well"

Where the hell does the girl know that from.

Who cares, really. They set the tents up on the beach because it was a nice spot to fish, even dragged the logs over to set up a makeshift breakwind and provide some shelter. If Dem knows something else they can do on the beach, apart from make sandcastles (Dem and Terce beat the other handily) and go for a nice splash (admittedly a splash that had almost seen Aurum dragged out to sea), then Terce's all for it.

Another roll down the beach, this one initiated by Dem, and they're stopped by a bank where (if Terce remembers correctly) they'd tried to set up a barricade with sand, before admitting defeat and heading to get the logs. There's a split second where she worries they're going to head up and over it like a particularly slow stunt car, before they roll back down into the furrow the sand had come from.

The silver light of the moon embraces them, and Terce can hear footsteps in the sand. She thinks, hopes it's the next shift. Doubts it's another tribute this close, and in this perpetual half twilight the only way to reliably measure time is by the singing buzz of the alarm. The buzz she thinks she can hear, even while one arm of Demure's retracts, probably reaching for one of the weapons the girl had sworn she'd put down.

Danger does taste good, though. The footsteps stop close to them, and Terce catches a glimpse of a brown boot out of the corner of her eye when Dem lifts her head for a second. One of theirs, then, given it was the boots that had been their pride and joy from the Cornucopia. Any more than that she ignores, it's not important. Another few seconds with Dem before they're interrupted is important.

Eventually, of course, people have to be boring and interrupt. Of course they do. The prod of a boot in her side, and she jumps up. Demure is a second behind, eyeing Chevron with a distinct look of disappointment and a gleaming knife in her hand. After all, he did interrupt their moment, and for that there's little forgiveness. The situation is diffused by the raising of Chev's hands, and a smile on his lips. "Sorry, sorry. I was coming to tell you it was our turn for watch, not that... I think you would have noticed."

That supple smile slips over Dem's lips again, and for a moment Terce can't help but stare at the blonde. First with interest, then (as a hand is pressed to Chev's chest) a hint of jealousy. Those honeyed words don't drip over her this time, but over Chev, and Terce can't stand it. "Chev, be a dear and watch somewhere else. Me and Terce are having a moment."

A warning that they'll be tired in the morning is brushed off, and with a sigh Chev mooches over to sit beside Pelagia, several feet away. Terce, on the other hand, is guided back to Dem's pup tent, and into one half of a sleeping bag. It's surprisingly warm, surprisingly cosy, and (surprisingly) able to fit two people.

And, as Demure presses against her, all thoughts of a half-competent Night's watch forgotten, Terce realizes she never wants this to end.