Given a Chance!

[Wikvaya]

Wikvaya didn't like skin all too much. Oh, it was perhaps more attractive to people than fur to the two-leggers, but what really ground Wikvaya's gears was its lack of practicality. Fur was warm, it wasn't cumbersome, it felt amazing, and it allowed for the seduction of women via adorableness. Skin didn't allow that. One had to wear clothes to be warm if one had skin, the clothes would have to be heavy, it was stuffy and suffocating, and heavy clothing was hardly attractive. And even without the heavy clothing, the only way to get anything out of women with skin was offer sexual favors. Some of the women you wanted something from... just aren't worth it.

He didn't mean Aisling, of course. Aisling was a beautiful gal.

His foot was swatted aside, however. He frowned at this, but playfully so. His response was a splash, to which he frowned further. But then his look brightened, and he dunked his head in and out of the water before leaping out. He didn't move to get changed, obviously prolonging the awkwardness between them. He crossed his arms, now smirking rather victoriously. He expected her to react as she had before, of course.

Wikvaya was sure as hell not sleeping in the same bed as her like this.

He had often slept on the ground, though, so it didn't matter much. Indeed, he slept on the ground more often than he slept in a bed. The only problem with this was, he was usually a cat when he slept on the ground. Besides the lack of a desire to be a cat at this time, it also prevented flirting. And that was the game.

And then they touched minds. Wikvaya allowed it. And I think I would like your dragon. Not as much as I like you, but that's the way the world is today i'm afraid. He grinned at her, taking a mocking (and nude) bow.

[Aisling]

Aisling was taken aback by the wet, nude man that stood before her. He just loved to make everything and push it to the next level. But the elf wasn't going to back down so easy. She was going win whatever game they were playing, she was determined. The White Rider never backed down from a challenge, it was in her nature.

She sat down on the bed cross-legged , acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary. The elf just hoped the werecat wouldn't get the bed wet. Nothing was worse than sleeping in a wet bed, or a wet anything for that matter. It was rather uncomfortable and not pleasant. Aisling had to decide if she was going to let the werecat share the bed. Obviously he would have to be clothed because there was no way he was sleeping naked with her. Unless of course he appealed to her sense of logic. Then maybe he could sleep naked...maybe.

"Faeon and I are very similar, you can not like one of us more," she said smiling, almost going into a trance at the thought, "We are even similar appearance. He is so magnificent, with his brilliant white scales and golden eyes...We are kindred spirits he and I."

Aisling's mood immediately darkened with sadness. Faeon had not responded to her call. She began to feel that crawling loneliness she had managed to suppress throughout her journey. It over whelmed her senses. She had only felt this loneliness after she discovered she and Faeon were one of the sole survivors of the fall, when her twin died in the Battle of Illiera, and when she received her scar. All these feelings hit her like a wall, she buried her head in her hands. She took a calming breath as a single tear slid down her face. She composed herself, with another deep breath. She was not weak, she could handle her demons. She was going to have to for sainity's sake.

She put back on her capricious smile and said softly, "Your going to have put clothes on."

[Wikvaya]

She was a determined one, she was.

That was good. So was Wikvaya. Though, Wikvaya did pause for a moment to fully think this through. What was he fighting for? He certainly wouldn't make any serious advance on Aisling, unless the moment seemed right or she did first. Come to think of it, he might not even do so even then. It was a commitment issue thing. It seemed as though a reason for fighting no longer mattered.

Just as long as he won.

To this end, he covered up with a towel. Covered up his top half, anyways. It was only until after had thoroughly dried his top half did he move onto the bottom, which he scrubbed equally as vigorously, all the while looking up at her with a mischievous glint in his eye. It's not as though he had any shame, so might as well give the lady a show. A tour of the goods, so to speak. Hopefully catches her unawares and leaves her in a befuddled state, at which time Wikvaya could ease himself onto the bed and so claim the prize, whatever that prize was. Self-pride that he can arouse an elf? Close enough.

"Oh yes? Then I must consider meeting him. All in good time."

Clothes? Clothes were to concede defeat. But neither would he be allowed into the bed if he were not dressed. How to work this... He suddenly got an idea. Grinning, he let the towel fall to the floor and retrieved his socks. He put them on. He loved socks. If they were the right kind, they were all of the things that aspired to be fur. And they did it right. They were soft, they didn't impede you, and they were warm. And they were an article of clothing, so he did as she asked.

"I put on clothes," he said, grinning.

But then he got something. It was sadness. Sadness from being separated from her dragon. Concernedly, he slid over to the bed and sat down next to her. He patted her. "There there. You'll see him soon. Very soon, i'd wager." Assuming they were setting out for Farthen Dur tomorrow, which was a distinct possibility.

[Aisling]

Aisling shook her head and took one of his hands in hers and said softly, "You must understand Wikvaya, Faeon and I have a bond that has really surpassed the bonds of others. I shouldn't be alive, he and I both know it. By some twist of fate, I was to live and so many others were to die."

She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. It was true, she had no idea why she was still alive. She and Faeon managed to defeat death that day. Aisling frowned deeply. She believed that FAeon suffered the most. He carried all the memories, and it was her blood that spilling over him during their flight to the desert. He saved her from losing her mind in the desert, and saved her on numerous occasions during their wandering.

She owed the dragon her life.

"I owe Faeon my life."

Aisling took another deep breath. It felt good to say something out loud. She had kept her thoughts bottled up out of isolation and now she had released them.

The elf released his hand and crawled back on to the bed.
"You can join me if you wish, you just need pants not just socks."

[Wikvaya]

Wikvaya nodded solemnly, giving her hand a squeeze. "I know, Dear. I know. Well, I don't really. Or I do. I know, but I don't understand. At least you ARE alive, eh? And since you're a live, i've met you. So it really turned out for the better, yeah?"

He gave her a winning smile, almost like the one he gave her when they first met.

It was hard to be upbeat with sad, tragic past-y people. You tried to get naked and give them a show, but they just kept dwelling on how they got some scar or how they were almost killed. Wikvaya sympathized, but couldn't help but feel a little bored. He was a firm believer of living in the present, not the past. The past was meant to be remembered fondly over a drink or two, not dwelt upon constantly, no matter how terrible it was. He lay a comforting hand on her shoulder, nonetheless.

"And I owe you mine." It was true, to an extent. Wikvaya couldn't overpower an angry mob, so her diversion actually saved his life.

Because of this debt, he decided to put on pants after all. Well, not pants. Undergarments. It was close enough. He stood up and allowed scrutiny. "How's this?"

[Aisling]

Aisling shook her head and placed a finger to his lips.

"Never say you anyone something. For a debt in blood can never be re-payed, you of all people should know that," she said simply. Aisling knew a thing or two about blood debts, and quite frankly she could live without them.

She knew, of course, that the werecat didn't actually mean that he owed her, but still the stigma stuck with Aisling. And he really didn't owe her anything. If he was meant to die he would've died. The white rider was a firm believer of everything happening for a reason. It may not be because of fate but there is obviously something you must do if you are alive. To her, elves had such long life spans because it took them longer than most to accomplish something. They moved slower than others. Aisling saw it in her own thought, she always moved slower than others and had more time to think than others.

Aisling's mood lightened substantially. She kissed the werecat on the forehead and ruffled his hair.

"Beside's if you were meant to be dead, you'd be dead."

With that simple statement, she got herself underneath the covers and looked at him in his undergarments and nodded with approval.

"You may sleep in the bed now," she said with a smile. "But if you rub against me in your sleep I will assume you are doing it on purpose and I will punch you in the face. As pretty as it may be, I shall punch you straight there. Do not take advantage of my trust."

[Wikvaya]

Wikvaya thought this was getting pretty overdone. The whole finger lip touching thing was certainly over rated. It signaled that he should be silent, but in a sensual way. This was a bad thing, considering it was killing two birds with one stone. For one, it cut you off from flirting yourself. For another, it was a very sensual action and almost implied you were to shut up and let her take the reigns and do what she wanted with you. Wikvaya wasn't against that, but neither was he willing to lose.

He had a feline's stubbornness in him. They did what they wanted to do.

And he wanted to win.

Thus, he spoke. "Oh, i'd wager a magical night with a charming werecat is payment enough." He smirked slyly and crossed his arms, like he was proud that he could still up the ante even this late in the game.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps," he conceded. "But you still played a pivotal role in my escape from those nasty Dwarves. You should be proud of that, yes?" She should also submit to his victor-Argh! She kissed him! On the forehead, no less! Kissing was not fair!

He nevertheless pouted and hopped into the bed, folding his arms and snuggling under the covers. He'd grin, holding his head up with an arm and facing her. "Ah, so cruel are you that prohibits romance with violence! Not even just a little touch? Who knows, you might enjoy it." He flashed her a toothy grin again, all innocent like.

[Aisling]

"If you are waiting for me to take the reins or submit to you, Wikvaya, be prepared I am in no rush to hurry my actions," Aisling said with her own smile. It was a very mischievous smile of course. But a smile none the less.

The elf rolled over and sat up in the bed and looked at the werecat before her. She had noticed that her kissing his forehead had thrown him off. Leaving her yet again the victor in their little game. But she was in one of her moods. She was going to have final say in this battle, and she would be the victor.

"I will not be prohibiting romance," she said tossing her hair, "Quite opposite in fact."

That's when she leaned over and kissed the werecat straight on the lips. She lingered there for a few moments before, laying back down and facing him.

"Your move," she whispered, knowing that she was indeed the victor.

He would have to top her on that one. The elf was curious if he would or not. For it had taken her a lot of thought to do such a thing. But why not? She was a capricious elf, she could do as she pleased. And it pleased her to kiss the werecat. Seemed simple enough. Perhaps Faeon would say she was being a bit too capricious. But she had to know if the werecat was all talk or all action. She was indeed curious.

[Wikvaya]

"Wait for you to take the reins or submit to me? Madam, you wound me." He would mockingly act as though stabbed in the heart. "Oh, my wounded heart!" He would return her smile, though his was deliberately more sincere, yet somehow just as mischievous. Wikvaya liked to shake things up like that.

What was that in her eyes? Was that triumph? She must have seen his avoidance of lip contact. What could Wikvaya say? Kissing signified a connection to the opposing party. Wikvaya couldn't have that. Especially since connection was commitment and commitment was responsibility and responsibility... well that was just not freedom.

"Oh? And how do you propose to do that?" His question would answer itself, as she'd swiftly bend in and touch her lips to his.

Oh boy, NOT good.

For one, the kiss was more or less rather genuine, even if its motives were shrouded in mischief. Secondly, it was delayed, which means it was slightly enjoyed. Wikvaya frowned in a perplexed way and bent his head back to prevent her from doing so again.

Except then she declared her victory...

Clever girl. He could not back off because that would mean she won but he could not... well he could kiss her back. But then, he didn't really want to. Or did he? She was, after all, a very beautiful elf. And he couldn't deny the feeling of contentment he received when her lips touched his.

Oh, bugger it all.

He bent in and kissed her back, and not only went on for a long while, but also drew her into a light, and quite romantic hug under the covers. Finally the kiss would be broken, and he'd give her a wink.

"Check mate?" He asked in a gloating way.

God, he hoped so. Or did he? Bugger this indecision.

[Aisling]

When Wikvaya kissed her back, Aisling literally though her heart would stop with surprise. To her kissing meant nothing, but to some it was an intimate act. As he pulled her into an embrace, her body stiffened. She was not used to such an intimacy with anyone other than Faeon. She no longer cared about their game, she had no desire to win anymore. These acts were beginning to dredge up feelings that she had no desire to think about. She had a mission to do and she was beginning to let this companionship cloud her judgment. She knew that Faeon would scold her for getting so distracted.

As soon as they broke from the long kiss, Aisling rolled over, presenting her back to the werecat. She had know way of knowing that his act was genuine or a game until he gloated. Her eyes narrowed at the wall before her, kissing an elf was no prize. It was honour. Especially to kiss one who happened to be one of the Last Rider's of old. Perhaps she was a little sore of heart that the kiss wasn't genuine but it was no matter. They would arrive in Farthen Dur tomorrow, and she and Faeon would be reunited once more and she would offer service to the Varden.

"You win, now I suggest you sleep," she said cooly, "And I am still serious about you rubbing up against me. I will hit you."

[Wikvaya]

Wikvaya had won, finally.

Her flustered appearance immediately following the kiss and embrace signaled this. She looked... confused, and disturbed. Dare he say even a little embarrassed? He dared. All of these things she looked, and undoubtedly felt as she would immediately turn away from him. She looked like she was being plagued by some horrible notion that she hadn't been plagued about for eons. An uncomfortable experience, to be sure. But she still turned away from him.

And he couldn't have that.

He didn't gloat. On the contrary, laying a concerned hand on her shoulder. "Aisling, are you okay?" He asked, in an equally concerned way. It was evident that she was not okay, but he wanted to get it out of her what bothered her, so he asked anyways.

"Winning is no fun if you're opponent is in a bad mood, especially if you like your opponent," he tutted. "Come on, now. Let's talk." He folded his arms, sitting up and waiting for her to reply.

[Aisling]

Aisling felt a comforting hand on her shoulder. She didn't shrug it off or anything, but simply took a deep breath. Perhaps she had over reacted, she had a tendency to do such things. And she partially blamed herself, if she had not took their little game to next level, there wouldn't even be a problem.

"I'm just peachy," said calmly, and quietly. She didn't want her voice to come off anything but indifferent.

She still couldn't figure out why she had kissed the werecat, she thought at first it was just her competitive nature but she knew deep down it wasn't just that. Perhaps she was taking out her own frustration at her inability to figure herself out on Wikvaya. But she truly did feel that justified. She wasn't a prize.

Of course, the werecat kept pushing her. She figured that he would've known that an elf can take eons to reveal their feelings. And that was Aisling, she felt like she had eons upon eons to figure out her feelings. She was honestly just confused, and she hated confusion. She felt like she was too old o be confused by simple matters of the mind and heart.

"There is nothing to talk about," she said rolling over to face him, "Absolutely nothing."

[Wikvaya]

"Aisling..." He chided tiredly as she turned to face him. "I've been lying longer than you have and I know when someone is. Tell me what's wrong."

Wikvaya himself had actually grown rather content, in sharp contrast to her obvious discomfort. It may have been the bed, it may have been the feeling of victory, but Wikvaya wagered that it was the kiss in and of itself. She was a beautiful woman, anger and confusion at him being disregarded, and to kiss her let Wikvaya settle in quite snugly.

He, as mentioned before, didn't like commitments. But it could almost be said he was committed to cheering up this elf. True, what she had done was spontaneous and done during the heat of competition, but Wikvaya would wager that she genuinely liked him. She'd said so before. And that was all the commitment he needed, for now.

He would hug her again, though this time in a more soothing way. "Come on, now. You can trust me," he whispers into her ear, equally as soothingly. "Not like I mind if you tell me what you have to say."

[Aisling]

Aisling frowned, was she really that bad of a liar? Well, she didn't really have a good elven pokerface, she was a bit too...moody to have one. She listened and followed her emotions, for she knew if she ignored them they'd only get stronger. She sighed, she just wished she could've won and left the whole thing at that. There were a lot of things about herself, that Aisling still didn't understand. Her desire for love and intimacy, being one of them.

Of course, Wikvaya pulled her in a hug. It was soft and soothing, and that's really all she needed to move one. Just a simple act that proved to her something of friendship and a connection. Something that proved that she meant something.

"I'm fine, Wikvaya, really," she whispered to him, with a small smile but it was a genuine smile, "I'm just a sore loser, promise."

[Wikvaya]

Wikvaya was good at lying. He wasn't lying in this case, but it was still interesting to note. He once made seven people believe seven different things in one night in the same room. These people were drunk at the time, and it was painfully easy, but even so. That took skill. Truthfully, the fact that Wikvaya was speaking the truth now was a huge sign that Aisling was different to him than the others.

Wikvaya surveyed her with his deep blue eyes, eyebrow raised. He sensed that he had done the right thing, as she hadn't gotten up and thrown him out the window yet. Not that it would've mattered. Cats land on their feet, don't'cha know.

"I want you to be more than fine," He said. Why did he say that? Fine was fine. Why did she need to be more than fine? More importantly, why did he want to kiss her again?

"And I want you to be the winner," He continued. Okay, Mouth. Seriously. Cut it out. Stop speaking words. "You are, after all, stunningly beautiful."

This mouth was out of control.

[Aisling]

"More than fine?" Aisling asked him curiously.

Since when did he want her to be more than fine? The elf eyed him suspiciously, but she found that their was genuine truth in those blue eyes. She was shocked, yet honored. She knew that she must be special if the werecat was genuine with her. There was no flirting, or intentions behind his comment. Just genuine sincerity. She figured that would be the end of his string of honest comments. They poured out of his mouth one by one. The last struck her, stunningly beautiful? Did he really believe that? Even after she had shown him the scar that marred her and even after her twisted mood swings, he felt tha she was beautiful?

Aisling's smile brightened as she lifted her head and leaned in closer to the werecat. She studied his face for any sign of lying, and of course she found none. She stared at him for a moment, her gray eyes still shinning with surprise.

"Do you really mean that?"

[Wikvaya]

More than fine was not what he wanted her to be. Fine was absolutely fine! She needn't be elevated to a status of above-fine, especially since she was looking at him now with those eyes, those eyes! Who was he kidding? She deserved to be put on a golden pedestal lined with jeweled laurels. She was mischievous, she was sweet, she was just... everything Wikvaya liked.

And then she bent in close to him. He gulped, a single bead of sweat forming on his forehead and steadily making its way downward.

"Of course I really mean that. Why wouldn't I?" He asked, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. He wasn't succeeding.

[Aisling]

Aisling watched him curiously, she could tell he was flustered. And she knew that she was the reason. The white haired elf smiled at how adorable he looked when he was flustered. She laid back down on her back a looked over at him. He was truly a fascinating creature, and that was saying something coming from her. But even she knew so little about werecats, sometimes she preferred to keep things a mystery, it made her life.

"We should rest," she said softly, smiling at him.

She decided to end his suffering, if her truly felt something for her they would survive a night. But there was no reason to make him squirm. She would make him squirm many a more times on their adventures together, which she was sure there would be many.

"If you sweat anymore, you may drown," she quipped.

[Wikvaya]

Wikvaya was being amusing right now... He hated being amusing. To be the source of one's amusement, to be laughed AT, not with... The idea was revolting. But at the same time, he felt that if she were the one laughing at him, it would be okay. Oh, who was he kidding? The fact that it was her made it worse, not better. Still, it was a very innocent amusement. He probably shouldn't be so flustered.

"Yes, you're probably right." She was right. Rest was the best option right now.

So why did the solution seem so... unsatisfactory?

Oh, he remembered.

And then he kissed her again, this time more quickly, like all he wanted was to feel those lips again. Which, of course, he did.

Bugger it all.

He smiled, nevertheless. "Good night, Aisling..."

[Aisling]

Aisling blinked a bit in shock as his lips touched her again for a second time. She smiled and replied softly, "Goodnight, Wikvaya."

And with that she rolled on her side facing away from the dashing werecat, she was alone now with her thoughts. She was so close to her goal of joining the Varden and she was curious about this new budding relationship with this werecat, after so many years of isolation it was still a curious thing for her, but she did love it.

As sleep over took her, she sent out one final thought to Faeon, We must be reunited soon, I miss you.

*****NEXT MORNING*******

*Artemis POV*

"So you swear that you saw a werecat and an elf?" Artemis said, her eyes narrowed at the dwarf priest in front of her. The Varden commander hated dwarves, in fact they were the whole reason, she had been forced to come to this horrible town to arrest this 'thieving werecat', most useless waste of her time. "Are you sure it was a werecat? Because it’ll be your head if I’m chasing some house cat.”

“Aye! It’s a werecat! And I’m truly sure that the woman was elf, a strange looking one at that! Golden tattoos and all that,” the priest said, pointing to the tavern.

“Golden tattoos?” The desert commander asked curiously. She had heard of the people of the desert that bore those tattoos, they were strange. She and her tribe personally preferred to stay away from those of great magic, such as the Golden Face tribe. “Well...I suppose I’ll take your word for it.”

Artemis dismissed the priest with a wave of her hand and strode toward the tavern, she was going to arrest this thief once and for all. She was tired of all these bloody dwarves complaining to her about all their possessions being stolen. It was begging to get her goat, and you never wanted to get the desert commander’s goat. That was a death sentence. She pushed open the door to the tavern and sat down at a nearby table, waiting for the unlikely pair to emerge.