sobota, 1 lipca 2017

Z deszczem mu do twarzy... [vol 2]


Ray
 
 około 25-lat | GILDIA | MAG | 


- Śmierdzi od ciebie człowiekiem na kilometr! Ten komentarz pada przynajmniej kilka razy w tygodniu i choć powinien się już do niego przyzwyczaić to nie potrafi. Zawsze wówczas dobywa katanę i zabarwia ją płomieniami. Jego oczy zachodzą mgłą, a on sam wyszczerza się do nieszczęśnika.
- Nienawidzę ludzi - oświadcza chłodno. - Ale jeszcze bardziej nie znoszę, gdy się mnie do nich porównuje - dodaje jeszcze, zanim zatapia swą katanę w ciele nieszczęśnika. O ile oczywiście trafi, bo z tym różnie bywa. Czasem po takiej szarży musi szybko uciekać. Z pomocą przychodzi mu wtedy teleportacja. 

DANE OSOBOWE | HISTORIA | POWIĄZANIA


[Jako, że od samego początku nie mogłam zdecydować się na rasę i miałam dwa jej typy, zdecydowałam wystartować i z drugim panem. Jakoś nie potrafię grać kobietkami. Za co z góry przepraszam. CYBER PERS oraz Wujaszek Dragon namówili mnie na podanie numeru GG: 50569079 ] 


28 komentarzy:

  1. [lol.]

    She tilted her head to the side.
    “Now, when I think about it, disabling one hand would really spice up the fight. I’ve wiped out spiders in many different ways, but had never tried that kind of challenge.” She rubbed her chin. “And to think I was once terrified of spiders…” she muttered. “Would it be weird if I say that they now hold a special place in my heart?” The way she overcame her fear wasn’t a pleasant one, but it worked. Maybe she should try something similar now.
    “I’m afraid kisses might be…” She cleared her throat, shifting in her seat awkwardly. “A little too distracting.”
    Lips had a lot of nerve endings, which until recently she had known only in theory, and not so long ago experienced in practice. Knowledge alone couldn’t describe it though. Even though for her it had been some time since they last kissed, she still could remember vividly the feeling of his lips pressing against hers. That was one of the things she could recall from that day. Most of her memories were rather foggy, but the kisses… Later as she waited for him to open his eyes during last few days, she would catch herself longing, not only for the kisses, but for them to be close again, to feel his body next to hers, his arms wrapping around her, making her feel a little more safer. Those thoughts were incredibly embarrassing. And they couldn’t kiss even now. Not publicly like that.
    She couldn’t really dance, nor she liked beer, but it was going to be fine, as long as they were together. If it wasn’t, it wouldn’t be because of beer or dancing, but because of Scotland and the meeting.

    Willow

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  2. [jest mi tak wygodnie, jakbym założyła kreatywne dresiki.]

    “What are you…” She couldn’t finish, as he cut her off with a kiss. She let out a surprised moan, her mind going blank.
    The nerve endings were working overtime, her brain didn’t mind. Between the waves of pleasure washing over her, she would think that she was going to kill him. Later. The kiss felt hungry, a little desperate, as if they could never do this again. It differed from the last time. Her face felt hot, her body felt hot, it was all very… hot. Oh dear. Why she couldn’t pull away? What if someone saw them?
    The kiss broke, leaving them both gasping for air. It took all of her willpower to not to lean in for more. Quite a feat, considering how extremely close their faces were to each other.
    “I’d say… that it was pretty distracting…” she whispered, taking a deep breath trying to calm her pounding heart.
    She studied his face, taking in every small detail. She couldn’t tell him what he wanted to hear. The outcome of the meeting was depending mostly on her mental strength, which was lacking to say the least. A paralysing fear would overcome her, every time she really thought about influencing beings that could crush her with a single move of a bony finger.
    She brought her hand to Ray’s face, brushing his cheek softly with her fingers. She had to be strong, stronger than she actually was. So she could see him again.
    “No need to be so dramatic, I’ll be back tomorrow,” she muttered, trying to avoid making a promise she would be unable to keep.
    Feeling as if she was about to explode, she pulled away from him, trying to look calm and composed. Trying and failing.

    Willow

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  3. Well, shit. That was unfortunate. There was no hoping for the hyperbole this time around, she assumed. Was he that scared of her reaction he had to hide? It was her who was scared! And not ready. So not ready.
    Well, shit. She took a couple of steps back, which made her bump into a chair, making it fall on the floor, disturbing the relatively silent sick bay. She had to go. As if startled by the noise of her own making, she almost ran out from the room, but not before bumping into Marcus.
    Well, shit. That man had the worst timing.
    “What’s the hurry?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
    There actually was something she was actively trying to forget about, but she had a feeling that he wasn’t asking about that. Without uttering a word, she fished out of her a bag a big envelope and forcefully shoved it into his hands. Which was rather unusual, as it normally would take a minute to make her give up the thing.
    “You okay?” he asked, clearly concerned.
    Maybe she could still salvage this situation though.
    “Dae ye, mibbie, hae some work for me?” she asked nervously, suddenly not even able to control her accent.
    “You just went full on Scottish on me. Sorry, what?”
    “WORK. PLEASE.” She needed to hit something, to take her mind off… things. It was not anger she felt, nor disappointment, but some other negative emotions - stress, for example. And fear. And some regret. But mostly guilt.
    “Oh. Well, you were talking about spiders…”
    He didn’t question her nervousness, just told her what he needed and send her on her way. Then, he tucked the envelope she gave him, in one of the drawers in his desk, with all the others. He glanced in Ray’s general direction. Something had happened, but it was none of his business. But maybe he should just tell Ray that Willow was going to be late tomorrow.
    *
    And she was rather late. And, also, favouring her left leg. It was probably because of the bloody bandage on her thigh. Good thing she was actually in a sick bay, because her leg needed treatment. She managed to throw a leather, bloody pouch on Marcus’s desk, before being surrounded by healers. At least she didn’t have to face Ray. Yet.

    Willow

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  4. It wasn't really the time nor the place for this. She clenched her teeth, stubbornly avoiding his gaze, feeling as if the moment their eyes meet she would completely lose control. His nagging was distracting enough.
    “A hae… shite… I have...” she muttered, with some effort, “poison… in ma leg… tryin’ to keep it out of ma blood stream.”
    Marcus closed the curtains around her bed, concealing the sight from the rest of the sick bay, and Ray as well. She could finally relax, letting the healer to his job. Keeping poison at bay in her own body was exhausting, but nothing new. She had been focusing on that for the last few hours, until now. Her mind went blank, waiting for some new things to ponder on.
    Well, shit.
    She still had no idea what to say. Forgetting about it seemed like a bad idea. Talking about it seemed also like a bad idea. The only things coming to her mind were: No, this isn’t love, it’s oxytocin and You mean like… love love?. Sometimes it was just better to keep one’s mouth shut.
    She should had never agreed to this relationship… thing. It was obvious from the very beginning. She wasn't made for love. No one had ever loved her. Necromancers should be unable to love anything or anyone, for their own safety. Letting yourself feel those emotions only created weaknesses. She knew that. And against her better judgement she let herself get close to someone, which made her realize how empty she had felt for most of her life. But what if all she had ever wanted was comfort? Was that where this guilt was coming from? After all, no one had ever truly cared for her, comforted her, touched that way. She recalled how right it felt being with him, their fingers entwined, their lips tasting each other. Shiver ran down her spine. What if her mind only created those feelings as illusions, so she could cope with everything that had happened? Was any of it actually real for her? Or did she just wanted to feel those things?
    He had become her gath-solais, her ray of light. What was she for him? Nothing, except maybe a leech. She didn’t deserve his love.
    If it wasn’t real though, why would her heart hurt so badly every time she thought about leaving? Why did she look for him, risking her own life? Why did the feeling of happiness overwhelmed her when he woke up? Why was he on her mind more often than anything or anyone else? Even the being couldn’t sometimes grab her attention.
    “Done.” Marcus’s voice snapped her back to reality.
    Still no conclusion was reached. She had to go, she needed to over-think this whole thing some more.
    “Please, take your overprotective boyfriend back to his bed, before he hurts himself,” the healer added, before she managed to get away. She expected him to smile at slyly, but he actually seemed tired. He worked too much.
    She jumped off the bed, her dressed wound didn’t hurt that much. Walking didn’t prove itself to be much of a problem also. Unfortunately, it was rather easy to walk up to Ray.
    “It was a spider bite, nothin’ serious…” she said, crossing her arms, looking at anything else but him.

    Willow

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  5. [well, would you look at that, I've the same problem with "she" :D ]

    After all, he still cared about her well-being. He seemed anxious, almost defeated. She hated seeing him like this, and it was her fault. It hurt.
    “I have a tendency to over-think things, so takin’ ma time would be unfair to ye,” she said, her arms still crossed, her eyes focused on the floor. “I wasn’t ready for thi truth. I liked being happy, not thinkin’ about the consequences. That was… egotistical of me.” She paused for a second, realizing how strongly her heart was beating. “After all, I knew very well that I was goin’ to hurt ye. Sooner or later I’ll be gone. It’ll be better if… I think that…” Deep breath. She thought it would be easier. “Dinnae ye… Shite. “She cleared her throat nervously. “Don’t ye think it’ll be better to move on now, rather than lettin’ ourselves get attached to each other even more?” Oh dear, that sounded really bad. But maybe that was the right way - to say it the worst way possible. She had no idea how that would work.
    Her eyes burned, as she tried to hold back the tears. She didn’t want to leave him, but that was the right thing to do, for both of them. She wanted him to be happy, and that was something she couldn’t provide for him.

    Willow

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  6. “I don’t want ye to leave!” She finally verbalized her true feelings, although that wasn’t her plan. “But I am honest when saying it’ll be better if… we start the process of moving on… now. It doesn’t mean I want to… That’s just a right and logical thing to do.” Of course she didn’t want to. She actually liked being happy with him and knew very well that she would go back to her miserable self without him. But she didn’t care about her own happiness, she didn’t need it, it was just a luxury. However somehow, the thought of him forgetting her and letting her go terrified her.
    Those feelings overwhelming her, they weren’t an illusion. It wouldn’t be this hard otherwise. Feeling his arms wrapping around her, she immediately snuggled up to him, losing herself for a moment in the sound of their rapidly beating hearts. Her body trembled, as the first tears started to flow.
    “I want ye to be happy…” she whispered into his chest. “I don’t have to be. I was never meant to be happy, nor loved. Ye deserve true happiness…” Her voice caught in her throat. There were some other things she wanted to say, but they were drowned in her sobs.
    Oh dear, and now she’s crying, and some people might be watching, this is just very embarrassing.

    Willow

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  7. His words woke up those damn butterflies in her stomach. There were so many things she wanted and now they were in her reach, but was it okay if she took them? She was happy with him, he was happy with her, and they both wanted to cherish those bits of happiness as long as they could. But was it actually okay?
    A decision stood before her. Saying goodbye would be a sensible thing to do, it would cause the least amount of pain. Remaining together would be more comparable to drugs - joy for a short moment and then withdrawal. When putting it that way, the choice should be rather obvious. So why it wasn’t?
    It took her a couple of minutes to calm down.
    “Ye can let go of me now, I’m not goin’ anywhere…” she mumbled, sniffing like crazy, her eyes puffy and face red.
    It was a bad decision. She had no idea if she could ever love him back. Their relationship was doomed from the very beginning anyway. But the future pain was meant for the future Willow to deal with. The present Willow just wanted to be happy for a while.
    “Get back to bed, before Marcus kicks me out of here,” she added. Although it was incredibly nice to be so close to Ray after all this time, she could really bear with so much embarrassment for one day.

    Willow

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  8. Falling asleep so quickly? Not cool. She hoped she wasn’t the reason for his exhaustion, but also knew that it was very likely. She didn’t sleep well last night either. She looked at his peaceful face and before she knew it, she was placing a kiss on his forehead.
    If she wasn’t blushing already, she would have blushed.
    A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she plopped down in her chair, next to his bed. There was nothing to do, but a promise was a promise. She wasn’t going anywhere. Suddenly, she got attacked by a pack of tissues.
    “So I guess everything is going a-okay with you two?” Marcus appeared out of nowhere, as was his schtick.
    There was no answer, only a shrug and a sound of a nose being blown. She had no idea.
    “Have you ever thought of picking up healing magic, by the way?”
    Willow looked up at him confused. “No. Why?” Then she realized he was actually holding an enormous book.
    “Well, as I understand, your career as a necromancer clairvoyant might soon be over.” He nodded in the direction of Ray. “So maybe it’s time to learn some new stuff?” He handed her the book, which she took reluctantly. “If you want to exercise I’m sure he’ll be more than willing to help you.” He winked at her, leaving her with her own thoughts and the tome.
    The book contained some basic spells, which she could already substitute with her own techniques, although only in her own body. Those spells mostly were meant for healing others. It had never been of any interest to her, as she only needed to take of herself. Until now.
    She put the book on the bed, as it was much easier than holding it all the time. It was really thick. She began reading through it, only trying to familiarize herself with the content before doing anything else. After some time, her body lacking sleep finally gave up. The tome might not have been the best pillow, but her head wasn’t particularly picky about its… resting… place.
    Long story short, Willow fell asleep on the book. She even started drooling after some time.

    Willow

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  9. “No, it wouldn’t. This bed’s too small…” she mumbled, still half-asleep. She yawned, her hand covering her mouth. “Get a bigger one, then we’ll talk…” She stretched a little, rubbing her stiff neck. True, that wasn’t the most comfortable position to sleep in. Although, she was unsure if catching a wink would be possible laying next to him. The idea made her curious. After all, she usually felt more relaxed around him, his body was familiar enough for her to not have a constant need to run away. That was something.
    “I panicked again. Sorry,” she muttered. Even though still kind of sleepy, after some good old-fashioned crying and a nap she almost felt refreshed and able to form constructive statements.

    Willow

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  10. “What? Can ye actually make it bigger?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. Her imagination wasn’t working at its full capacity.
    Her promptness to panic couldn’t be the most pleasant thing to get used to. It reminded her that she should prepare a to-do list in case of her having a real panic attack or flashbacks. It was decided that they were going to spend some together, after all. For better or worse.
    “Well, that’s a… Shite.” Looking down at the book, she made the terrible realization. She wiped out the drool from her face and the page, which used to act as her pillow. “That’s introduction to healin’ magic. Really basic stuff.” She stifled a yawn. “Not very interestin’, but useful. Not sure, if I could ever do it for a livin’, though.” She rubbed her neck. “I was plannin’ to study this afternoon. As mostly every afternoon, so no, nothin’ special.” She shrugged. “How are your runes goin’?”
    She was glad they could still talk normally. She was actually nervous about him waking up and what would happen then.

    Willow

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  11. “Oh, can ye now?” she asked raising her eyebrows. “Wait, don’t answer that. Those are dangerous waters to tread.” Keeping this up, she might have finally ended up laying next to him. The possibility made her blood run cold, but also her heart race. Very confusing.
    She smiled shyly. His compliments about her prowess on the battlefield made her stupidly happy.
    “Well… Recently I had to pass on some high payin’ jobs, because of my mental state. Y’see, much of my income came not only from fighting, but lookin’ for things, people. Necromancy, at the end of the day, is mostly about clairvoyance.” She heaved a sigh. “It involves dealin’ with spirits, ghost, demons, beings that usually want to use ye, and the moment ye summon them ye’re like an open book to them. They know yer past, sometimes yer future. But most of all they know yer fears, hopes and dreams. I’ve too many of them right now, so, it’s gettin’ rather difficult for me to do this.” Her eyes fell on the book, she brushed the page with her fingertips. “I’ll have to focus on battle magic, for a while, I think. And how to stay alive as long as I can. I’ve never had the talent for defensive magic, nor illusion. And Marcus just suggested healing… Nothin’s set in stone, though. I’m considerin’ my options.”
    She looked at the book he was holding. Saying that she was interested would be an understatement. Her natural instinct of trying to study everything was kicking in with its full power. She knew there was no time, she was studying another language, learning more sophisticated battle magic spells, maybe trying out a new school of magic, not to mention the “project” she had been researching since coming to Mortiel, and had to put on hold, knowing (or hoping) that information she needed was in Scotland. Oh, and those damn golems. But that also had to wait until Scotland.
    “Shame ye’re not studin’ some semitic language,” she sighed. “I could’ve help ye then.”

    Willow

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  12. “Well, I’ve a tendency to run into the fight, so I get hit a lot. Sure, I can stop the bleedin’ or pain, but manipulatin’ your own life force is exhaustin’. I’m not goin’ to be a healer, if that’s what ye’re worrin’ about.” She remembered what he said about Evelyn, that they wouldn’t have gotten along. “Just thinkin’ about takin’ more risky jobs and preparin’ for them. It’d also be nice if next time, I could ease yer…” She paused, looking away. “Ease yer pain. If we end up in a similar situation like the last time, that is.” She kind of felt bad about what happened. She was able to help him, obviously, however she still felt guilty about not bringing some kind of anesthetic and being so detached back then. Better being detached than panic, though.
    “Lovely? Who’s lovely?” She feigned obliviousness, looking around as if looking for the said lovely person. “And they know somethin’ about necromancy? When can I meet them?” Maybe, just maybe, she was fishing for compliments from him.

    Willow

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  13. “I like to think about ye…” she muttered, before she realized what words were leaving her mouth. Her cheeks turned red, yet again. “Anyway…” She cleared her throat. “Ye’re welcome. Although, that reminds me, that apologies are in order.” Her gaze wandered to the side for a second, before she looked at him locking eyes with him. “I had to use yer blood to find ye. I apologize.” Her words seemed to be sincere, however they felt as a part of something taught. Some kind of ritual for those situations. Maybe, because it was. Using someone’s blood was incredibly disrespectful, at least that was how she was taught. After all, necromancers could do… a lot with blood.
    “To be a master of one’s own happiness, first they’d have to be a master of their own fate, don’t ye think?” she asked smiling softly, but there was no happiness in that smile.
    His words nice and all (excluding the mention of black magic, but that was a lecture for another time), however she knew that even if she had this control over her life now, it’d be over sooner or later. The being connected to her always reminded her about that. And agreed with her words.

    Willow

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  14. “Well, I… summoned a spirit, showed it a map and asked to pinpoint yer location.” With his blood she didn’t need to summon a stronger being, which would had been much more risky. She wondered, however, if there would be no other way, would she do it, just to find him. “Ye know, ye shouldn’t be this eager to give yer blood to a necromancer…” She pinched a bridge of her nose. His eagerness to learn was actually charming. “With the right amount of someone’s blood necromancer can… control their mind, send a ghost or a demon to haunt them, learn everything about them…” She told him once, during one of their arguments, that she could had learned everything about him. At the time it was mostly a bluff, with the blood she had she would have learned only some of his past. “If I had any other option I wouldn’t have used yer blood, but… I just really wanted to find ye… make sure… that ye’re safe…” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
    Did he just say that she was a “hope in the dark tunnel”? Butterflies in her stomach fluttered vigorously, but she pulled away her hand. His feelings made her both happy and sad.
    “I forgot about something!” she exclaimed suddenly standing up, trying to sound as natural as she could. Then she remembered that she actually had forgotten about something. “I’ll be back in a few minutes!” And with this she ran out of the sick bay, only to appear again a few minutes later, breathing heavily as if she ran all the way to… wherever she had gone. Judging by her trusty messenger bag hanging on her shoulder, it was probably her quarters. Trying to catch her breath she plopped down in her chair. Without a word, from her bag she fished out a plastic bag [SO MANY BAGS] with a couple of orange round objects, commonly known as oranges.

    [nie pamiętam czy w wątku kiedyś wspominał o miłości do pomarańczy, ale możemy założyć, że wspominał, prawda? prawda. oczywiście, że prawda.]

    Willow

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  15. Uśmiechnęła się pogodnie.
    - Na razie mam wystarczająco dużo obowiązków z przedszkolem, ale jeżeli znajdę tu pracowników i nie będę miała co robić to może zawitam – odpowiedziała i spojrzała na niego lekko rozbawiona. Ray strasznie się spinał gdy chodziło o tematy miłosne, cóż, powinien się cieszyć, jest młody i może korzystać z życia, może mieć gdzieś co inni powiedzą, może patrzeć tylko na swoje potrzeby i partnerki. Febe miała na głowie jeszcze dwa szkraby i miłość w takiej sytuacji nie była łatwa. Zaśmiała się szczerze słysząc jego wyznanie.
    - Sam fakt, że wymagasz od siebie samego świadczy o tym, że jesteś dobrym kandydatem, może nie najlepszym, ale masz ambicje, a to sprawi, że gdy bardziej obeznasz się z tematem to będziesz nie do zastąpienia, przynajmniej dla niej, o ile któreś z Was nie pryśnie przy pierwszym lepszym niepowodzeniu – puściła mu oko i zaraz kiwnęła głową słysząc więcej o dziewczynie.
    - Uroczo – uśmiechnęła się raz jeszcze i zaraz dotknęła dłonią ramienia chłopaka.
    - W kwestii związku zapamiętaj sobie jedno… Jak w domu popsuje się żarówka, to wymienia się żarówkę, a nie cały dom – powiedziała z powagą, jednak lekki uśmiech gościł nadal na jej twarzy – I nie bierz tego dosłownie – zaśmiała się jeszcze. Mężczyźni często nie rozumieli tego rodzaju przenośni. Zaraz odłożyła kubek i spojrzała w stronę wejścia do sali.
    - Oho, zbierają się już rodzice niektórych pociech – zauważyła i ruszyła w stronę osób kręcących się przy drzwiach wejściowych. Porozmawiała chwilę z kilkoma rodzicami po czym ruszyła do czwórki dzieci, aby je obudzić i zaprowadzić do rodziców. Zostały tylko szóstka, w tym dwójka jej dzieci i bliźniaki Mel, na szczęście cała szóstka smacznie spała.

    Febe

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  16. Bycie czyjąś nadzieją to dość spora rola, wiedziała o tym z doświadczenia. Nie wiedziała jednak czy to najlepszy pomysł, by to ona tę rolę przejmowała. Dla jego dobra.
    - Wiem. Mam swoje momenty - odparła uśmiechając się delikatnie.
    Chciała mu jakoś umilić życie tutaj, a według jej badań terenowych jedzenie pomagało. Pamiętała, że pomarańczy było sporo w jego pokoju, co musiało oznaczać, że je przynajmniej lubił. Patrząc na niego teraz, doszła do wniosku, że raczej się nie pomyliła. Cieszyło ją to, że była w stanie sprawić mu przyjemność.
    Podała mu kolejny kawałek.
    A propos przyjemności...
    - Hej, jak wrażliwe są twoje uszy? - zapytała tonem pasującym bardziej do rozmowy o pogodzie, niż tego… do czegokolwiek to zmierzało.

    Willow

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  17. Wzruszyła ramionami.
    - Zawsze znajdowałam to dziwnym, że uszy należą do stref erogennych - odparła. - I jesteś jedynym mężczyzną którego się w tym momencie mogę o to zapytać - dodała, nadal dziwnie spokojnie.
    Była w stanie utrzymać swoje opanowanie prawdopodobnie dlatego, że jak na razie udawało jej się nie myśleć o konkretnych uszach, tylko podchodzić do sprawy dość ogólnie. W tym momencie naprawdę zapytała z czystej ciekawości o rzecz, która od dawna ją zastanawiała. Dopóki nie będzie myślała o tym co można tym konkretnym uszom zrobić, to powinna być w porządku.
    Odsunęła się od niego trochę, szurając nogami krzesła o podłogę, lekko odchylając głowę do tyłu, żeby narzucić między nimi jeszcze większy dystans.
    - Nie wiem. Nikt nigdy nie miał okazji sprawdzić. - Zmrużyła oczy celując w niego nożykiem, którym obierała pomarańczę. - Ty też nie masz teraz okazji - dodała, patrząc na niego podejrzliwie.
    Wizja… “sprawdzenia” brzmiała… kusząco. Cholera jasna, ona to właśnie pomyślała. To jest kolejny powód, by mu na to nie pozwolić.

    Willow

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  18. Była trochę zawiedziona, że w końcu nie otrzymała odpowiedzi na swoje pierwotne pytanie, ale postanowiła nie drążyć tematu, widząc w jakie niebezpieczne rejony to schodziło.
    Jego ostateczna “groźba” jednocześnie sprawiała, że nie mogła się doczekać, a także przerażała. Ten dualizm uczuć zaczynał być przy nim normalny, nie była pewna czy to dobrze.
    Uniosła brew.
    - Mam chorobę morską, mówiłam ci o tym. Teraz to mnie przeraża twoja pamięć - stwierdziła, trochę niezadowolona, że musi się powtarzać.
    - Powinieneś tu jeszcze być ze względu na siebie i na własne zdrowie, nawet gdybym nie przychodziła - odparła, przewracając oczami na jego marudzenie. - Że ja ociekam... ? - zająknęła się nagle, po raz kolejny, cholera jasna, się rumieniąc. - Przecież ja nic nie robię! Jak się przestaje ociekać seksem? - Zacisnęła palce na mostku nosa, zapominając, że jej dłonie nadal się lepią od pomarańczy. Cholera. - Może mam dni płodne - mruknęła, jakby naprawdę starając się dojść do jakiś łatwo-wytłumaczalnych wniosków, a jej cykl był tak rozstrojony od tego całego stresu, że teraz już nigdy nie wiedziała na jakim etapie się znajduje.
    Chyba by nie dała rady być “całowana cała”, prędzej, by mu przywaliła. To że nie spinała się już za każdym razem gdy ją chociażby przytulał, nie znaczyło że była gotowa na przekraczanie kolejnych granic.

    Willow

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  19. Poruszyła się niespokojnie na krześle, gdy wspomniał o swoich uczuciach. Więc łączyły się one w jakiś sposób z pożądaniem, co raczej powinno być oczywiste, ale ona musiała świadomie połączyć te fakty.
    Trochę uciekała przed jego propozycją. Niezależnie od tego jak “naukowo” starała się do tego podchodzić, cała zagwozdka zaczynała się robić zbyt personalna. Nawet tak drobny dotyk wydawał się jej być w pewien sposób intymny, nie miała odwagi go zainicjować. Nadal sama się ograniczała, co było nawet dla niej w pewien sposób męczące.
    - Gdyby były wrażliwe, to już chyba byś to dawno zauważył… - wymamrotała, odwracając wzrok.
    Nie mogła powstrzymać natrętnych myśli, które nagle zaczęły ją nawiedzać. Uświadomiła sobie, że ktoś inny miał już okazję to sprawdzić. Nie chciała myśleć kto i w jaki sposób, to tylko ją przygnębiało, ale jej mózg zapalczywie starał się nad tym zastanawiać.
    Westchnęła ciężko, potrząsając głową.
    - To i tak nie jest, aż tak istotne - stwierdziła. - Lepiej się zajmij runami, bo nie dostaniesz więcej pomarańczy.

    Willow

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  20. Wyrzuciła skórkę pomarańczy, wytarła dłonie mokrymi chusteczkami (które uważała za cud techniki) i powróciła bez słowa do księgi Marcusa. Skupiła się na niej całkowicie, spychając nieprzyjemne myśli gdzieś w kąt. Ten mechanizm działał od lat, jeszcze jej nie zawiódł. Poza tym naprawdę chciała się czegoś nauczyć.
    Doceniała fakt, że Ray zajął się sobą i nie czuł potrzeby wypełniała ciszy. Cieszyła się, że sama tego nie czuje. Mogli wspólnie produktywnie spędzać czas bez potrzeby ciągłego przypominania o sobie nawzajem.
    Drgnęła słysząc jego głos. Nie była pewna ile czasu minęło, zdawało się zbyt krótko. Uniosła głowę patrząc na niego trochę sceptycznie.
    - Przestaną być męczące, jeśli spędzisz nad nimi więcej czasu - odparła, bezlitośnie trzepiąc go po dłoni, którą już sięgał po pomarańcze. Nie mogło minąć aż dużo czasu, a on już sobie robił przerwę. Odsunęła od niego talerzyk na którym znajdowały się kawałki pomarańczy. - Jeżeli potrzebujesz jakiegoś słownika to mogę po niego pójść - dodała.

    Willow

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  21. Uśmiechnęła się delikatnie widząc jego niezadowoloną minę. Musiała walczyć z chęcią podstawienia mu pomarańczy pod nos. Przecież musiała być konsekwentna.
    Ją samą jej lektura nużyła, ale to nie znaczyło, że jej się to kiedyś nie przyda. W młodości jej wszczepiono filozofię, że sama wiedza będzie dla niej nagrodą, niezależnie od tego czy kiedyś będzie mogła jej użyć czy nie. Było jej ciężko zrozumieć, że nie wszyscy mieli takie podejście.
    - Nie nazwałabym tego regułą. To zależy od tego co robisz… - odpowiedziała mu, unosząc na niego spojrzenie. - Używamy i magii która jest w nas, i sił witalnych. Potrafimy nimi manipulować, zarówno swoimi jak i cudzymi. Przy większych zaklęciach… rzeczywiście zabierają one dużo sił witalnych, ale zazwyczaj nie samego nekromanty. Staramy się wtedy pobierać taką energię z zewnątrz. - Podrapała się po podbródku. - Widziałam przedstawienia nekromantów jako pustelników, otoczonych śmiercią, co wydaje mi się idiotyczne. Teoretycznie jest to możliwe, jako że możemy wykorzystywać siły witalne wszelkich żywych stworzeń. Sama to zrobiłam, odbierając wtedy życie jednej z jaszczurek, aby przy okazji trochę się wzmocnić. Ale robienie tego na dużą skalę byłoby głupie i nieodpowiedzialne. Wiemy, że ten świat nie ma nieograniczonych zasobów, kiedyś by się skończyły. Niszczenie wszelkiego życia, tylko dla własnej potęgi, nie jest tego warte. - Przesunęła w jego stronę talerzyk z pomarańczą. - To jest jedna z pierwszych rzeczy jakich się uczymy. To że możemy coś wziąć, nie znaczy, że powinniśmy.

    Willow

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  22. The sudden change of the subject was rather unexpected and took her by surprise. Seeing that he was tired she decided not to press the previous one. Even though it was much more suited for her, than the one he had started.
    “I’ve noticed, it was surprisingly easy to make ye work by takin’ oranges hostage,” she said, smiling gently. “Somethin’ to keep in mind, for sure…” she added quietly.
    She was joking, of course. Probably.
    “As for me, I… I don’t know… I tolerate everythin’. Havin’ favourites would only be problematic. I had to tolerate most food.” She gave a heavy sigh. “But I like sweet things, I guess. That’s probably because mother was always strict about that I could never eat many sweets.” She shrugged. It was always about appearance. “And I might have a soft spot for things I cannot have,” she muttered.

    Willow

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  23. She didn’t return his weak smile, only growing more and more concerned about him. There was something wrong, he wouldn’t tell her what, obviously.
    “I do like ice-cream, yes.” She sighed. That moron was just spewing nonsense, probably to show off how not-in-pain he was. “Ye’re not well, Ray,” she said, deciding not to even ask if he was feeling alright or what was wrong. The most probable answer would probably be, “I’m okay”. Even though he clearly wasn’t. It was better not to even give him a chance to make her angry.
    “I’ll get Marcus.” She stood up, her mind already set.

    Willow

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  24. Just as she had predicted, deciding before making sure paid off. She hoped they won’t make a habit out of this. Reasonably open communication was her preferred way to co-exist.
    She was less worried, than she had thought she would be though. Knowing that he was in good hands really helped to cope. If she had not gotten to know Marcus, she’d most probably completely lose her cool. And now she was losing it only a little. Progress.
    The next day, she managed to come by in the afternoon. There was… something wrong with her face. The area around her left eye wasn’t moving quite right. Aware of this, she tried to cover most of it with her hair in a natural manner, that all in all just made it more obvious that she was hiding something.
    When he called her beautiful that part of her face flickered, as she lost her composure for a second. She knew it was a bad idea to come here today. Illusion magic wasn’t in her area of expertise. Keeping those spells up was tedious.
    “We’ll get ice-cream after ye get out of this bed,” she answered, trying to remain casual and show how much she wasn’t hiding anything.
    Open communication. Right.

    Willow

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  25. She had always been told that her face was one of the few things about her body that was worth anyone’s attention. Objectively speaking, it mostly matched up with the local standards of beauty. And even though she was fully of aware of that his words made her blush and heart flutter.
    “Nothin’!” she lied so plainly, as if on purpose.
    She just didn’t want him to be worried. She just didn’t want him to see her like this.
    The realisation hit her hard. It was the same exact behaviour that annoyed her to no end. Maybe it was time to just… trust him a little.
    The spell fell from her face, showing a swollen black eye.
    “An argument… happened,” she muttered, looking at something that wasn’t him.

    Willow

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  26. Or maybe she should had just kept her mouth shut.
    She sat down at the edge of his bed, cupping his cheek with her hand.
    “I’m all right, Ray,” she said gently, trying to calm him down. “No one needs to die over this. It’s a minor injury. I’ve gotten worse. Though it had never been that visible. I’m just less pretty than usual.” Her light tone sounded as if she actually meant it. Most of her anxiety came from the fact, that she was hiding this from him. “Even though yer over-protectiveness is quite apealin’ I do hope ye won’t get completely fired up.” [GET IT? CAUSE HE’S A FIRE MAGE.]

    Willow

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  27. “Okay, it's gettin’ less appealin’.” She shook her head. “I'm tryin’ to say that usually I manage to protect the face.” Her body carried the marks proving that that had been the case, her skin was covered with scars old and new, and he even had the chance to see them. Twice. She winced at the realisation.
    She put her hands on his shoulders. She wanted to explain this to him, but preferred for him to be calm then. There was no need for more anger.
    “Please trust me when I say it's nothin’ to worry about…” A heavy sigh escaped her lips. “I might’ve gotten angry at someone and challenged him to a duel.” She scratched the back of her neck. “By the way, has anyone came by the sick bay with a frostbite?” she asked seemingly out of the blue.
    The matters of weird dreams and the “she” Willow decided to drop for now, though planning to bring it up later. The dreams weren't anything new, but who was she?

    Willow

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  28. Febe zaśmiała się pogodnie.
    - Nie wątpię, zapewne umiesz – poklepała chłopaka po ramieniu na odchodne.
    Rodzice dzieciaków, niestety, nie należeli do zbyt ufnych, dlatego Febe dziękowała w duchu Ray’owi, że postanowił milczeć. Cholera wie co by mu ślina na język przytoczyła, a przedszkole nie prosperowało tak dobrze, aby pozwolić sobie na negatywny rozgłos. Rodzicom w dzisiejszych czasach, nawet tutaj w Mortiel, wystarczyła pierdoła, aby obrzucić błotem pedagoga, nieważne czy w przedszkolu czy w szkole, byle by wina nie była po ich stronie. Kiedy uporała się z dorosłymi, spojrzała na Ray’a i przytaknęła mu, lekko się uśmiechając.
    - Jak wiesz na razie cierpię na brak pracowników, więc tak, wszystko jest na mojej głowie, ale tylko pojedynczym działaniom przypisałabym łatkę rutynowych. Dzieci są tak pomysłowe, że praktycznie codziennie ma miejsce coś nietypowego – pokręciła głową i zaśmiała się lekko.
    - Poza tym, pamiętaj, że jestem mamą, przedszkole prawie wcale nie różni się od mojego domu, poza tym, że tutaj zarabiam, a tam bym jedynie pieniądze traciła – puściła mu oko. Taka była prawda. W sumie przez te setki lat życia zdążyła odłożyć całkiem pokaźną sumkę pieniędzy, ale nie należała do osób leżących do góry brzuchem, a przez fakt samotnego wychowywania dzieci układ z przedszkolem był najlepszym rozwiązaniem na jakie wpadła. Do dziś nie pojawił się w jej głowie lepszy pomysł.
    - Może i nie biegam z mieczem i nie zabijam dziwnych bestii, ale mam tutaj swoją własną grupkę, która przy użyciu swoich zdolności potrafi zgotować niezły bigos. Powiem Ci, że dziś było nad wyraz spokojnie, ale to głównie z powodu ich ciekawości. Zainteresowałeś je jako nowy opiekun – podsumowała układając niektóre zabawki i angażując w sprzątanie pozostałe dzieci.

    Febe

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