flamebrand | overflow.

[Her pale blue eyes widen at his touch, when he says her name--and then slip closed as she feels his lips press to hers. He feels like the warmth of the campfires they share while on the road, not the flames of Ifrit. That's Clive: warm and safe and comforting. Jill's own breath hitches once her lips part from his, eyes opening and brain struggling to register what just happened.

Her flush has spread to the tips of her ears, accompanied by a bashful smile. A pleased smile, at its heart. Her tongue passes over her lips. The wine is sweet, but she's sure his kisses are sweet on their own.

Yet this all feels natural. Talk of being by one another's side, all they share, the trust ans affection between them... whatever hesitation is obliterated in the face of this sense of relief.]

You missed me more than I realized.

[A gentle teasing, her voice soft.]

[ An inevitability. As much as Clive champions the grand ideal that they're all the own arbiters of their destinies, that nothing is written, he thinks that he and Jill were fated all the same.

His touch smooths along her cheek, tracing the heat along the rise of her cheekbone. She's stunning like this, warm and pleased, tucked close enough to him that he can hear her breathing― he settles his forehead against hers, letting their noses touch again. ]

I pined. [ The words come out as a whisper-laugh. Joking, but not. ] You have my permission to lord it over me.

[ One more slide of thumb against jaw, and he finally lets go. ]

[She's pined for him for years. It's only fair he feels the yearning, too, though Jill would never tease him about it. She's wanted to be his in every way since they were children, desperately hoping that Anabella would see some benefit in marrying her to him. Of course, it never would have happened even if their lives didn't go terribly off course. Her value was in political alliances, not marrying her spare son.]

We're both spared from that agony for a little while, hmm?

[He lets go just for her to lift a hand and brush the backs of her fingers over his cheek, over scars and stubble.]

And one day we'll need never part.

[ So this it what it means to have floodgates open. All those times he'd tried to reach for Jill and stopped short of it, fearing the corrosive nature of his presence and the potential harm it might do her― a part of him still balks at the thought of what he is and what he could become, but the damage is done. He's kissed her, and he doesn't think he could bear trying to forget how it made him feel.

Tipping his face into Jill's palm, he lets her affection seep into his skin. New, novel. Anabella never handled him with gentle hands, and the nursemaids who tended to him in youth only did so with apology written in their lowered eyes and careful touches; as if his mother would have rained hellfire on them if they were ever caught showing her failed son any sort of unearned kindness.

He didn't mind it. That was simply the way of things. But Jill was always different, even back when they were children: asking about him, looking after him, praying for him. He should have seen it more clearly, and sooner. ]

A day that can't come quickly enough. [ Maybe Ultima could stop being The Worst™, thus saving him so much time and heartache. Alas. ] Until then...

[ Another brief brush of lips against lips. Unlike Torgal, a Bad Dog move. ] ...We still have an entire bottle of wine.

[He does remind her of Torgal, leaning into her touch. The sweet look in his eyes makes her want to run her fingers through his hair and spoil him with the attention he's lacked his whole life. He deserves every moment of it.

But she lets her hand fall after that stolen kiss, laughing.]

We do. And food. You should eat.

[But she can't resist stealing another kiss. To make it fair.]

[ Oh. He can tell that they'll make a sport of stealing kisses, and the thought of it makes his face warm, this time. A light dusting of red rising on tan, scarred skin. The word smitten comes to mind. ]

Yes, my lady.

[ Hand to his chest, head bowed. Playful, even despite the impeccable court-learned mannerisms. ]

If you have any other demands for me tonight, I'm amenable.

[ Drinking, eating, sleeping... cuddling. (The last one, he'll take credit for.) He must sound overeager, but then again, he is. ]

Amenable?

[She asks with a laugh, sure it's a little more than just amenable. He usually is, even if they haven't shared a kiss and pushed their relationship into foreign territory. Something unspoken, but always there with them, waiting. Hoping.]

My only request [not demand!] is that you relax and enjoy yourself.

[Jill sips her wine before reaching for the plate of food, making a neat stack of bread, cheese, and meat for him. It feels good to mother hen him, and she'd be doing this exact thing whether they'd kissed or not. He spends his blood and sweat every day for others--the least she can do is look after him, doting on him in ways that don't feel like doting at all.

It's so small, so insignificant, but so rare for them in these difficult lives they've lived.]

Here. Eat.

[ It seems a monstrous thing, sometimes, for him to have so much while others scrape by with so little. A hideaway, a group of men and women who support him in his mission to do something so ridiculous as changing the entire make of the world, and a woman who cares for him enough to make stack meat and cheese on top of bread when she could be doing literally anything else.

He decides not to get into existential conundrums, though. Deserving or no, Jill is here and offering him finger food, and his stomach does growl. Alive, despite everything. ]

Only if you do the same.

[ Opening his mouth to let Jill pop the stack into his mouth, while he makes a reciprocal cheese-meat-bread tower of his own. He refuses to be the only one being pampered here. ]

[The Torgal allegations just grow stronger. Jill smiles, pleased to see him eat, and touched he's so quick to feed her, too.]

I ate! [She insists with a laugh.] I had to pass the time, waiting for you to come home. Please, it's all yours.

[He can put it all away, she's sure. He may not be a growing boy, but something needs to fuel his running about.]

But I am thirsty.

[So, she'll take a long drink from her wine and lean over to top off both their drinks, no matter how little space there is.]

[ Oh, he could bathe in the sound of that laugh. He sets the mini-sandwich that he made to Jill's side of the plate, silently insisting that she take it despite her protests, and then (and only then) starts demolishing the rest of the food.

Not a growing boy, but still six-feet-and-change of pure muscle, always metabolizing. The big furnace monster trapped in his body also doesn't help things. ]

Water, [ he reminds Jill between bites. He reaches sideways for the waterskin he keeps for his long journeys, and passes it her way. ] You'll give yourself a headache in the morning.

Am I the one that just returned from days on the road?

[He always looks after her. She's grateful for it, for him. Sometimes when she looks at him she can't believe that not only are they reunited after so many years apart, but she has his affections. And now, she knows what it's like to have his lips on hers. The thought brings a new flush to her cheeks... not that the initial blush has had much chance to flee.

She takes a sip of water before reaching for at least the bread he put near her.]

And I would ask you not to speak of morning. I'm in no hurry to get there.

[She wants to stay in this moment with him. Morning means their responsibilities will come looking for them.]

[ There should be a name to this feeling, and one comes to mind: four letters, one syllable. Mentally, he grapples with the idea of saying it now, simple and honest and candid, but the window of opportunity to declare it seems to have closed; the sentiment likely deserves a better set dressing than 'with his mouth full of cheese and Jill's mouth full of wine'.

So. He tucks the word into his chest for later. A time more suitable. Perhaps when they break the last of the Mothercrystals, and he figures out what in all the hells is going on with Ultima. ]

I'll still be here when you wake, [ is a promise. One he hasn't always been able to keep in the past, but still. ] But, alright. We'll put the passing of time out of our minds.

I do look forward to falling asleep together.

[But there's no rush. They've fallen asleep side by side before, on bedrolls out in the wilds or inn rooms where they pretended to be mistress and Bearer as they saw the troubles across the lands. But this will be different. It's his bed. That thought alone makes her heart flutter. If she thinks about the possibility of being in his arms as she drifts off to sleep, she might swoon and end up in Tarja's bed instead.]

... as long as you can endure the gossip once anyone realizes where I've been.

[She says it with a small laugh, only a little embarrassed. People already talk. The lovebirds, they're called, and everyone knows where one is, the other can't be far.

She's never minded. The speculation about their relationship kept the women entertained and Jill pretended not to hear it. She's never doubted her importance or place in Clive's life, and she hopes he feels the same.

He should, with how fondly she looks at him.]

[ Endure, she says, as if she could ever be a weight that needs bearing. From the start, Clive hasn't minded the elbowing and teasing－ it's been happening since Cid was still with them, accusing Clive of staring, of his mouth hanging open, of hovering like a lost pup－ and had only been curious to know whether or not it exasperated Jill. It's one thing to be secure in one's knowledge of one's importance to another, and another thing entirely to have it be gossip fodder.

Licking crumbs off his thumb, he offers: ] I expect to be fending off a horde of angry suitors who've had their prospects shattered.

[ Keeping it light. The others should be mad, honestly. How the fuck he's managed to win the affection of the most beautiful woman in Valisthea when he's this much of a mess, Clive has no idea. ]

Fight off--[That gets another laugh from her, dove gray hair slipping over her shoulder as she shakes her head.

He distracts her from the sight of his tongue. Behave, Jill. She'll never stop blushing at this rate.]

You've got us confused. We'll awake to weeping outside your door, I expect.

[He's a handsome man. Kind and good. There's no lack of admirers.]

I might need to sneak out the balcony. For my own safety.

[ A reciprocal laugh at 'weeping', the sound low and bemused. ]

There's not a soul in here foolish enough to threaten your safety, Jill.

[ Firstly, because she could toss anyone into the water surrounding the Hideaway if she set her mind to it, and secondly, because Clive would be Very Upset about it. Having to watch Anabella act coldly towards Jill in childhood was bad enough; he thinks he might have been long dead under the executioner's axe for murder if he'd been taken by the Iron Kingdom alongside her. ]

[Looks of envy might sting as much as the sharp side of a blade. She smiles as she takes a bite of bread and a drink of wine, feeling nearly giddy already. His laughter is more intoxicating than the wine.]

Infatuation does things to a person.

[So, maybe some of the gossip will be a little unkind from those wishing they were in Jill's place. She doesn't care.]

When we were little, I would dream about being able to spend time with you like this.

[Not even the kisses, necessarily. Just time alone, in private, with this ease between them.]

I'm very lucky.

[ When they were children. It's both easier and harder to reflect on those times now, fresh off the back of Anabella's death; the shadow of her looms less heavy, but Clive doesn't revel in the memory of her corpse, either.

He'll compartmentalize that, though. (Like he always does, rose-tinted glasses about his father and all.) More importantly: ] I remember that my training often took me away from you and Joshua.

[ He'd tried so hard not to be seen as a pampered little thing who treated soldiering like a wealthy noble's pastime. In truth, he'd preferred the barracks to his mother's frigidity, but he'd missed Jill and Joshua in his crusade to be taken seriously. ]

...Old habits. [ Older now, but largely doing the same thing. He rests a hand on the crest of Jill's knee. ] I know I haven't been as present as you deserve.

[Jill shakes her head, a pale, slender hand coming to slide over his, fingers fitting neatly between his on her leg. He doesn't outright apologize for any absence, but she knows that's what the words are. He doesn't need to be sorry for it.]

I'll always wish for your company, but I don't begrudge you for the time away. You're making a difference in the world. And sometimes, I even get to join you.

[She smiles warmly at him. Their travels haven't always been easy, their battles numerous and foes seemingly never-ending, but at least she gets the opportunity to fight by his side when their efforts don't need to be in one place and another. A part of her misses the years before he got a hold on Ifrit, though she knows he most certainly does not. It felt good to be needed. To use Shiva for good, and not the horrible acts she'd been forced into before Clive came back into her life.

But the way things are now aren't terrible.]

You're here now. I'm happy.

[ She does far more than just join him, but she should know that. Clive won't insult her intelligence by pressing the matter further; more importantly, she's happy, which means the world and then some.

He softens, and squeezes her fingers with his own. ]

You have me, regardless of where I am.

[ Emotionally, she always has his heart in her hands. ] If that makes you happy, then it will ever be that way.

And you, me.

[He always has. Always will, and hearing him sound so sure makes her heart flutter. She thinks it must be abundantly clear when she looks at him. Every part of her being adores him.]

You make me happy, Clive.

[An important point to stress. He's lived so much of his life in service to others--but he needn't do anything to have her heart. He's earned it simply by being himself.]

I hope you never doubt that.

[ A slow and careful lifting of their linked hands, and he presses his mouth to the back of Jill's. (Later, Joshua will try this same move on Mid, and be summarily rejected by her. Poor Joshua.) ]

If I do, [ with all the conviction he can muster, ] I'll count on you to give me hell about it.

[ She's always so patient with him－ surely she's entitled to kick him in the shin and throw objects at him every once in a while. Sometimes he worries that she's too understanding, and that she whittles herself thin (literally, when she was still using Shiva's powers on a regular basis) for his sake. Pot, kettle, etc. ]

[Gallantry from Clive, fortunately, works very well on Jill. Her fingers squeeze his, heart full.]

Without hesitation. You've always been special to me.

[None of it has to do with Ultima, or being a Dominant, or being Cid, or being a solider, being a Shield.]

Simply for being yourself. I'll remind you as often as you need it.

[Kindly, of course. His mother gave him enough hell for a lifetime.]

[ Anabella gave him worse than hell: she gave him nothing (go girl give us nothing!!!). Hell from Jill would be far more benign; at least he'd be able to ask her to kiss the bruises afterwards, if he feels shameless enough.

He lets go of her hand, but only so he can oblige Jill's request to eat. It's great, sitting here and knocking knees, but he has a comfortable bed that they can lounge on for a bit－ he stuffs one last piece of bread and cheese in his mouth, and washes it down with the rest of his wine. ]

I'll try not to let it get to my head. [ Slightly bashful, not to be too precious about the whole thing. He clears his throat. ] ...Or, so I say, as I ask you to stay the night with me.

[ It's gone plenty to his head, obviously. ] Do you want something of mine to wear?

[As is his right, as far as she's concerned. No one would be surprised by this series of events, not even themselves. This feels like the natural order of things. No duchy, no obligations--just them, and how effortless this change in status quo feels.]

We've spent many nights together.

[In their traveling clothes, several feet apart, back to back. Eyes cast elsewhere or busy with a task when privacy is needed. This is a bit different, and the teasing in her voice is clear, even before she laughs.]

... please.

[Slipping into one of his shirts may be part of a fantasy she's allowed herself to have.]

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