TBTT 43. Return of the jammies

[moonshadows]

"Tessa?"

The silence would be worrying if he couldn't see her astral body glowing from the next room. He doesn't really want to wake her - not because he doesn't want to shake her from sleep, but because the idea of being in her bedroom when she wakes up rattles the walls he's locked his past behind. Instead, he settles on the couch with his wings hanging over the back and conjures an illusionary butterfly. He hasn't done anything this frivolous in close to ten thousand years, but the delicate spellwork comes back more easily than he would have expected. For a minute or two, he admires the dichotomy of delicate butterfly and evil claws as it flutters around his fingers, and then he sends it winging into his Champion's bedroom.

She must have fallen asleep, somewhere in the middle of getting ready for bed and telling herself that no, those teenage fantasies were totally improbable, because suddenly a tiny flare of magic is dancing before her eyes and her wings are stiff. Yawning and stretching and trying to focus on the tiny spell all at once don't work so well; she loses sight of the spell as it vanishes, and tumbles backwards off the bed with a yelp. The spell is forgotten as she curses fluently in six demonic languages and the orcish she learned from her mother, for good measure. Stiff, bruised, and groggy from her nap, she stumbles out into the sitting room where she is unsurprised to find the couch occupied.

There is an impulse to try to be elated, to be self-conscious about the frogs-and-dragonflies jammies, to wonder how the kiss has changed things in his mind, and to be worried that he's worried about how the kiss changed things in her mind. None of that happens, however. Maybe when she's more awake. In the meantime, her Kal'shan is beckoning her over and her head feels too foggy to worry about anything. She grabs her cable and curls up on the couch as though being snuggled up to every teenage Nathrezim's fantasy was a perfectly normal, everyday event.

"I woke you." Although he does not say so, his tone itself apologizes.

"Izzokay," she mumbles around copper and electricity.

His arm tightens around her. "There is something I need to discuss with you."

"Mmm?"

"I have told my Minister of War that on Week's Dawn, I will demonstrate the power of my tame demon. My thought was to create a storm above the capitol of the region we're conquering next and strike their government with bolts of green lightning." He pauses, internally wincing at what he's about to ask of her. "It would be done during our 'bonding session'." To his surprise, she lets out a relieved breath. "You are...okay with this?"

She nods. "I don't know how good I'll be at something that big, much less with people watching, so...."

What? She thought- He can't help but stare at her, uncertain as to what exactly he feels at the moment. "I wasn't...You thought..." Deep breath. "I would not ask such a thing from you without your prior consent. I will cast the spell; doing so during our time together will only be to hide that fact."

"Oh." Well, she feels sheepish now. "...can I help?"

"You...want...to help?"

The look she gives him for that reminds him sharply of Tyrande; the same challenge, dripping with incredulity that he even thought to doubt her. She wants to help. How did he not expect this?

"That....your assistance would be welcome, actually. If you could direct the lightning bolts, I would be able to make the storm that much larger."

I'm helpful! She beams at him. "It would be my pleasure, Kal'shan!" The smile falters slightly. "Can I see the spell matrix you're going to use, so I can familiarize myself with it?"

That takes all the elation out of everything. "Somehow, I doubt we were taught magic the same way - and we do not have enough time for me to teach you what I know."

Much more awake now, she ponders the problem. Actually, while she's at it, she ponders the entire situation. Why not? It's rather cozy being nestled against him, and since he initiated the closeness, absolutely proper. Healing his sense of responsibility as much as she did must have also taken care of a bunch of fears and insecurities relating to letting anyone get close to him, both physically and emotionally - at least when it comes to someone he trusts. Trust is still a rare thing for him, of course. Even if she gets everything fixed, she doubts he will ever trust easily again. For now, though, he seems to take as much comfort in simple physical contact as she does. Probably not the way she does; he's awesome and famous, she's just a loser halfbreed. But still, he has a trauma tumor bleeding rage and pain related to physical and emotional intimacy. That's got to have left him hungry for being able to touch someone who doesn't hurt him and isn't hurt by him.

Curious now, she slips inside his mind. A cursory damage check shows a few things out of place, but nothing too bad - and yes, it is the same pieces breaking the same way. She'll have to find a way to make an elastic binding, but in the meantime she ties the halves together so that when he breaks them next, they can't go far. The responsibility-construct is patrolling, checking the various barricades and walls and strengthening them as needed. The bandaged parts seem to be healing well, even if there are still a few big, painful-looking shards jammed into it. As she watches, it stomps implacably over to a strange shape she can't quite identify before the shape is covered by some kind of seal.

Well, isn't that interesting?

When the construct lumbers on, she slips over and examines the seal to try to figure out what it is and what it's hiding. It's persistent, whatever it is - she can see the ruins of several broken seals around it forming a sort of raised ring that the current seal sits on top of. Sealing doesn't seem to work; instead of smothering this, it just hides it away - and whatever it is seems to be growing inside the seal. Why doesn't he just kill it? She touches it, and she's a child floods her with such iron determination and utter rejection that she flees. It's not until she is back in her own mind that she realizes the thing being sealed has to be some kind of thought regarding her - which would explain why he didn't kill it - that would be inappropriate for someone not of age.

There's not a lot of thoughts that fit those criteria. Elation rushes through her as her heart makes a leap of intuition that her brain reflexively denies. No...there's no way. That can't be right. But no...running the facts through in order, it's the only logical conclusion. Well, it doesn't matter anyway. It's not her place to initiate anything, and she's more than willing to wait however long it takes for him to make any kind of move. Even just sitting here like this, being held by him, is more than she is worthy of, so if it never gets past this point, she won't be disappointed.

"Are you okay, my Champion?"

She blinks and looks up at him in confusion.

"You gasped," he says, frowning. "Are you injured anywhere?"

"Oh! No." Her brain works furiously and, amazingly, comes up with an explanation. "I just remembered that when two or more Nathrezim are working on the same spell, they initiate a mind-link to make communication easier." A purple blush climbs up her cheeks. "I, um, left before I finished school so I never got to practice it. But I know the theory! I've just never done it myself."

"A mind link," he says slowly. "Would that work?"

"It should? You're Nathrezim enough to walk the Twisting Nether...."

"We will need to practice, and we haven't much time." The frown comes back as he glares off into space. "Your uniform. Have you finished it?"

"No, Kal'shan," she answers crisply. "The embroidery is done but the jacket needs to be fitted and hemmed. I will be able to finish today, unless you need me for something."

"No...finish it. We will practice tomorrow, before you go to Week's Dusk dinner." The affectionate smile is almost painfully awkward, but the one-armed hug makes up for it. Reluctantly, he stands up, imagining that he can already feel his sanity eroding again as soon as he is not touching her. "I will return tonight to inspect your uniform, my Champion," he snarls, bewildered and gratified as always when his harsh tone results in yet more adoration.

Scowling and human he stalks out of the room, trying to forget how adorable his sleep-tousled demon looked when she stumbled out of her bedroom.