#(( welcome to an overly long ramble where Breina and I actually come to a conclusion together as I write WHOOPS ))

[deathswcrn]

@oathwilled asked: Morning After

There's a kind of friend Breina has learned come along rarely, but are always worth keeping around. By contrast, there's some people that she gets along with just but who she feels she has to perform for to keep close, because she's too brash, too loud, too rude and lewd. There's some that allow her to be herself, for who hiding is worthless because in the end, she doesn't offend them. But the rare friend is one who not only accepts and like who she is, but harmonises with her so her own personality turns up in response, who makes her more herself. Paerin, Breina is beginning to learn, is that last category.

Whenever she has stories to tell of her adventures around Dancing Peaks, Paerin has two more in kind. Her jokes are getting lewder around him, because he's got a tongue for double-entendre in his head that rivals her own. They grumble like old dogs together, all performative bark for the sake of bellyaching, and Gods, the two of them have bellyaching to vent steam to a fine art. And he's been generous about his paladin knowledge, guiding her through shit she should have figured out before now, but hasn't, and when they speak of oaths, she knows they're both talking about immutable touchstones they'd made part of themselves. Understanding a paladin's oath is to understand what makes them tick, and they've both shared plenty on that topic.

And her flirting around him is becoming downright dreadful. Some of the things she's said to him lately are positively eye-roll worthy.

It's how she's ended up tangled in a pile of limbs, aching a little in all the best ways, a little warm with all the body heat but comfortable with company. Last night had felt jubulent. She had been in a good mood, drink had been flowing freely (whether it was good drink is another matter entirely), and as things were winding down, she was reluctant to go back to her tent alone. But Paerin was there, handsome in his rough way in the firelight, their jokes had been getting bawdier as the night had ticked on.... so maybe she did, with a wink and a nudge, imply their night should end together. It hadn't been the first time the punchline to her jokes had been 'and seriously, if you want to be ridden until you see stars, I have thighs that can keep going for days.'

It's fine, she tells herself as she comes back to herself slowly, trying to figure out if there's a way to extract herself without waking him up. He looked peaceful, a little sleep-ruffled, but content to keep sleeping, and she's nothing if not a gentlewoman about letting a man get his sleep when he needs it. The problem is, it's given her chance to think. To reflect on why she keeps being pulled in his direction, and it's not a thought that she wants to give oxygen, because she realises with horror there's something to it. They enjoy rolling in the sheets. It's nothing.

Is it nothing? rises unbidden in her head, and she panics at even entertaining the idea. No. Absolutely not. Paerin is a friend she fucks sometimes and that's all she wants out of this. He's the first friend like this she's managed to make since the Dancing Peaks, and she's not ready to jepordise that on a wilful heart. Her elbow comes out, a little sharper than necessarily intended, to jab the half-elf awake, before she drives herself into a tizzy whilst trapped under him. "Let me up, y'great asshole. I need to piss."

No more casual sex, she decides. Not until her brain begins to behave around him again.