Year 765 The Storm Crawler Charge

Rhea slaps Azar hand away, scowling. Her head hurts at every motion she makes. Even running hurts, and they are here fighting about some damn secret that isn't really a secret in the first place. "Do you want to know so bad, Azar? FINE, all I could recall on the cowardly chief’s claim is the pain. The pain of the lava burning every section of my body to the very bone. No matter how much I fought, the lava was too heavy, and I only sank further. The pain so severe that the mere mention sends me shock. I do not know how I survived. In fact, it was easier to accept that it never happened. Happy now, vishka?"

Azar scoffs, only more peeved that she did not have more to say on this matter. He simply responds, "Not yet"

He did not pursue further, especially with Connor still pointing the pistol to his head. Jerilyn only starts to show some interest in the events unfolding when she began sharpening her spear.

"Well," Rhea purses her plump lips out of anger. "That is too bad! I have nothing else to add so make yourself at home."

Slinking away from the group made the most sense to her, heading to her parents' old room. She slips right past the cloth barrier, it was odd to be in her parents' old room, but it was the only way to feel some comfort. On one wall there is a crude painting of the three of them, her father a slender man with red locks and matching red beard. His eyes on this were the blue like the sky, in this he was painted with a grin. He always grinned, like Rhea in nature. Her mother is not too short compared to him. Her curls were wilder in this, being pure Krax her dark curls coiled even closer to the scalp. Rhea had the mix of both, loose reddened tip curls with accents of dark coal within it. Her mother wore a scowl, one that could kill with hazel eyes to match. She is a child of the chieftain and waltzed around with authority, had to when both her mate and child were equally immature.

I bet she never smiled. Rhea laid down the hunting horn in front of the painting before she touches the outline of the caricatures of her parents. Clearly remembering the rare moments her mother might lose resolve and smile. Her father and Rhea would point it out only to be quickly reprimanded.

Her mother loved them just the same regardless how awful her rested face may get. Now that Rhea recalls, her father is the one who painted this. Her silver eyes scans to a smaller caricature of herself, this one her hair kept short. Wrinkling her nose, she nearly chortles at the sight. Right, they kept my hair short for some time.

Those times were embarrassing as she grown older, short hair never suited her. But she never argued with her mother when it came to that, her mother was an unmovable wall even without any powers.

Rhea presses her palm between her parents' caricatures, a sudden feeling of loss darkening her mind. Her attention bounce from one face to the other, even after four years she still felt like a sniveling child before them.  "I... wish you were still here."

Her forehead touches the rock wall, the urge to cry just caught in her throat. Even her eyes stung, the only thing holding her back is her guests out there.

"Sorry I brought people over. I was hoping I can keep this place away from strangers."

Voices from the other room chatter on, to settle some ground rules or their differences. It did not matter to he right now. Her parents' old painting matters more.

"Actually, there is one person I would love for you to meet. Somehow, I did not spook him away mama. "

The chatter eventually ceases, and they are replaced by a set of footsteps. Rhea can make out that this individual closes in on this room. She still continues on, finding that she gains some ease out of talking to paintings. Even though she must sound so crazy.

“Spooked him!? He should be the one thanking the Gods for taking away my precious daughter. Be nice to your old man and stay single forever!”

"No, papa... Mama would never allow it. You know, with some time you would come to like him as well. I know mama would be pleased. It means she does not have to watch me anymore."

"Born with your father's temper I thought you would never leave the nest, cub! I will apologize this man later for taking you on. "

She chuckles to her own impersonation of her mother. This would be exactly what she would say if she is in this room right now. Her lips open to keep going but shut it tight when another voice intrudes.

"What’s there to apologize for? Pretty certain I am more of a problem." It is Connor's voice. Although she knew this might happen, the blush still rose upon her cheeks and ears. She picks up her head to shoot him a tentative gaze, guessing how much exactly he listened to. Is this how he feels when I do not knock?

He leans next to the entryway; a coy smile plasters on his face. "I just hope they can accept my apologies."

"Hah. My mama would, she always doubted that I ever catch anyone's eye with me being my papa’s daughter."

Rhea could not hold back her grin this time, her sadness vanishes for now. It might be Connor's presence or from talking to inanimate painting that she is now more at peace. She didn’t see a point to speculate.

She backs away from the wall, he moves close with his arm looping around her. Her face warms from the contact, he always finds a way to catch her off-guard with his gentleness. His dirty gold eyes trace along the paintings, pulling her closer. "These must be your parents."

"Yes. The very same. "

Connor gaze travels to the portrayal of her but younger and it took a bit for him to recognize it. When he did, he had this look as if fighting back the urge to tease "Short hair, huh?"

What is that supposed to mean? She panics in one spot when he points that out. Now she loops her arm around his waist and tries to veer him away. "No, just some random painting."

"For some random painting you seem oddly embarrassed." He chuckles, planting his feet down. His physical prowess can easily subdue her. She had better luck pushing a wall. Going nowhere with this, she instead relies on her words instead. Her body clung to him all the same, her other arm snakes around him to keep him close. She presses her cheek against his chest, noting the muscle definition she can feel underneath his wet loose shirt.

"Maybe because I looked like a small male with short hair. What else should I admit?" Her face buries in his chest now, hiding the embarrassment that way.

Her ears catch the sound of a sigh escaping his chest, his heartbeat steady just the way he usually portrays himself. He is always very strategic in his choices, but she likes to believe that she is the only one who might make his heart race.

His arms move to hoist her up bridal style, she blinks from the motion. Retracting her arms only to use one to cradle her aching ribs. He still is very gentle with his approach even so much as to take slow steps towards the fur beddings her parents used. Her face heats up once more, she never was on it since her parents died. In fact, she avoided this room specifically, this is the first time in a while she entered it. Coming to that reasoning she stammers, "W-what are you doing?"

"You're hurt and need some rest." His face stays impartial. Genuine with his statement, she relaxes her racing heart. It cannot be helped that her mind finds its way to other more inappropriate thoughts. After all, he is quite the handsome individual, just grateful that he never came across anyone more interesting than her.

It would be too weird to pursue a sexual encounter with my parents painting over them. As soon as her mind realizes that she grew cold from the idea. Nope never. I will be forever damned by my own mama’s ghost.

He lays her down on the pile, taking a second to remove his heirloom rifle with the sword and propping it against the wall. He got comfortable, if you call it that, sitting on the pile with his back against the wall. Rhea stretches back, keeping herself down for now since it would only hurt to get up at this point. Her body won't let her either, exhaustion weighs her down. Her mind is the only thing really in motion, sifting through the events of today.

When a frown plagues her face, Connor pinches her cheek to gain her attention. "Oie! What was that for?"

"You need rest, but you look more haunted than asleep", He cups her cheek where he pinched, soothing the spot even though she wants nothing to do with it. Despite that she sank into his hand, her body going against her wishes.

"Hypocrite...I know you have not slept since we got here."

That is when Connor retracts his hand away, he looks like he is ruminating on for an excuse, but he does not find it. His exhaustion did show the dark circles on his eyes and the lack of color on his face. She was ready to grab his attention when he came to. "I might have been too engrossed in finding the key. I promise to sleep if you do."

Her lips form a pout; her fingers reaching for his damp sleeve and tug. "Then get more comfortable. We are safer here than out there."

"Even with Azar?"

“Especially so. I bet that huntress has him distracted. "

He looks skeptical, chances are he doubts why Rhea intuition. Rhea is very aware that there is a small glimmer of allure between those two. It wasn't the same as Rhea and Connor. It is the type of attraction between two different beasts having nothing else better to do.

Even more reason to urge Connor to rest. Using her best tone to get her way, she croons. “Please, captain. I can keep you warm"

A blush forms on his face as a side effect, "You just vulgarized my title?"

"Yes"

He took a second for a deep breath, then caves in to her wishes. Laying down on his back and pulling her close so that he had her partially resting on his chest. His hand rests on her shoulder. Both suffer from clothes so drenched that even a place like the Junxe jungle felt like a cold wasteland. Best thing to do is to remove these clothes if they were normal. She isn't exactly normal, the mana in her will keeps them warm.

"This is why I barely wore clothes; it takes too long to dry." She releases just enough mana to warm them, not to burn him. It was working, her hair started to dry from the scalp onward. Her burnt outfit stays drench; it clung to her every curve like a second skin.

"We talked about this. Society needs you to wear clothes. Even if yours are burnt right now.”

Berhusk, I thought he would never point that out!

"Strange, society is starting to sound more and more like my protective husband." The playful grin forms as she moves more on top of him to better cover him with her warmth.

Instead of his usual stern face, he turns his face away to hide another blush but fails to do so. Rhea's heart throbs at the sight of him, this side of him comes and goes rarely and it is incredibly endearing. It is always his way to restrain himself.

To pry in his sorry attempt of restraint is why she asked, "Was it something I said?"

"Rhea...I'm still getting used to the idea that you are mine. It may never be my reality to be used to it either even if it’s obvious." Both of his strong arms hook around her, to keep her even closer. She traces her fingertips along the chain to his necklace, her face burning up when his words slip through his mouth.

In the heat of the moment, she presses her lips to his tasting him for the first time in a while. Noting the prickly stubble that started growing in, when they stop their deep kiss she rubs around his budding shadow. He is more annoyed than aroused which made her have a fit of giggles. "Sorry, I cannot help it. It is new and interesting."

"Right well, enjoy it while it lasts. It's going away." He quickly answers afterwards when he saw the glum look on her face. This is his weak attempt to soften the blow of his words. "It's for cleanliness purposes."

Rhea pouts and nuzzles his cheek while whining. "Fine then"

He chuckles, stroking her back with the tenderness of a feather and planting kisses right at her temple. "You are doing a lot of nonsense instead of sleeping. You still owe me an explanation once you've rested."

She sighs, very aware that he is right. Her body aches at the slightest of motions. She will just have to settle with keeping him warm at night. So far, her clothes have dried, and his clothes are damp than soaked. "I want to tell you. I just need time to gather my memories. Can you wait till we are back?"

"Whatever you need." He strokes her back some more, the motion comforting to the point that her eyelid droops.

She didn't want to sleep yet; Connor needs to get dried first. Her head rests on his chest, noticing his dampness. He at least felt warm, a clear indicator that she is doing exactly what she wants to do.

He plants another kiss on her head; his breath tickles her face.

It is too hard to resist sleepiness much longer. Soon her consciousness sank to the darkness after but not without catching his voice forming the words 'I love you'.