Dormitory H
3rd of Loshis, 2719
"The Hexxos are a religious conclave, zjai. I am, by the nature of my birth, well—it is complicated. There are things—" He pressed his lips together in a thin, taut line, catching himself. He'd already said too much and yet much like the strange ache that stirred within, awakened by Lilanee's touch, he hadn't said enough. Her blue eyes wandered over the tattooed skin of his back, the markings of his caste, his chosen path, in the spiritual journey any living being could decide to travel on should they truly desire to do so. Even as a child, he hadn't felt as though he'd had the same choices—his raen mother had wanted more children, but the gods had only offered Ezre.
He opened his mouth to say something else, but her touch unraveled the tapestry of his thoughts, the secrets he hid in the Crypts of his heart from even Lilanee, close friends though they had become since Ophus. His acolyte oaths forbid him from sharing Hexxos truths with outsiders, and yet he'd willingly left the borders of Hox, the quiet temples of Kzecka and the shadow of Vroh Guar, perhaps attempting to become something else, something more, than just another Hexxos. He wasn't sure in this moment, not with the way the Hessean now looked at him, not with the way a kiss felt as though it had changed everything.
"My birthday is this month. Spar Rhavat—the last day of Loshis. I should go home in Roalis to make official my commitments to my path, but I am not sure if there is enough time." The dark-haired boy whispered in their proximity, light-headed while his thoughts raced, unsure if he wanted to shed all of his clothing or if he just wanted to step out from behind the veil he wore so carefully even in her presence, even now. It felt heavier than soaked fabric, dragging him downward.
How he longed for connection, and yet the Clairvoyant had no idea how to achieve it! After meeting Tom, after his possession, after Drezda had only further made him homesick—how Ezre just longed to bare himself to someone—someone safe.
His body was quite convinced that this meant one thing, while his heart chided him that this meant something else entirely.
Conflicted, he didn't smile at Lilanee's teasing, his amused expression faltering when she turned around, his pulse racing to wash away all the self-doubts that rose to the surface, floating in a haze of teenaged desire and intoxicated arousal that he'd never felt before. It wasn't as though he hadn't thought about these things before, as though he hadn't ever previously found Lilanee beautiful, as though he hadn't ever found anyone attractive at all. It wasn't as though he hadn't ever wondered what it was like to kiss someone or touch them—
And yet, it wasn't as if he had ever shared his whole self with anyone, let alone his body.
Carefully removing pins, Ezre sought desperately to center himself somehow, grasping at self-control like he grasped at cold, wet ribbons. The sensation of her pulse against his lips when he leaned in boyish rebellion against his own conflicted conscience to kiss the Hessean's freckled skin would not have been a grounding one had it not been so contrasted by the chilled press of crimson fabric against his bare chest, the sensation of watery cold reminding him of that day in Bethas.
He closed his eyes and saw in the flicker of firelight not more fantasies of what was to follow this moment but memories of a terrifying, confused, etherial face. His clothes and her dress clung to his skin and his breath caught, mind replaying for just a heartbeat or two the painful crush of some misplaced spiritual essence attempting to crawl its way through his living boundaries—
What had he asked? What was he doing?
She'd turned to face him and he reacted to the movement, hearing the soft sound of acquiescence and feeling the warmth of her breath when he kissed her. Perhaps it felt like bold confidence, and yet the Hoxian knew that is was an escapist's bravado, trading his desire for intimate openness for his desire for physical intimacy. He lingered, turning over the choices in his mind while Lilanee's hands trailed downward and curled into the thick, decorative fabric around his waist. He sighed, mingled fields a warm, hazy cloud of so many unspoken things, First Light blurring lines and erasing inhibitions.
Ezre opened his eyes slowly, meeting the Hessean's expectant blue gaze and hearing her permission. He swore he could hear her heartbeat—that tick, tick, tick of life—oh Gods.
No.
"Lilanee, I—" The dark-haired boy had seen bodies before. He'd washed them. He'd prepared them after death. He'd examined them and learned how the intricate insides worked together in life. He'd touched them, just as he'd touched the metaphorical seat of life through Clairvoyance. He'd seen beyond life and death, too. In the face of his mother. In the face of that ghost in Bethas. In Tom. The girl in front of him knew none of it, believed only parts of the whole, and yet looked at him with a wanting no one had ever looked at him with before.
Mutual attraction could, of course, be whittled away into such unemotional categories as physical interest, hormone-induced desire, and the biological need to procreate.
But, also, it could be something much more.
The Hexxos acolyte who'd dressed the dead smiled softly, distantly, nodding at permission granted, feeling the force of his swift heartbeat as his hands reached up and began to carefully remove pins, began to carefully begin undressing the living,
"—I need to tell you something. Many things. You only know some of me, but here we are—exploring each other. I want this, but only if you do. I want to know more of you, but—but I need you to see all of me. I am afraid. I have never kissed anyone. I have never thought about anyone the way I think of you. I have never told anyone—like you—these things I need to say now."
The boy breathed his words, dark eyes not looking up, tattooed fingers gathering the sodden ribbon and the pins and carefully setting them aside. He moved with purpose. He moved with ritual. He moved with a respectful grace that belied how exciting this was as a teenaged galdor alone for the first time in a room with someone. His desires had dueled in his mind: his body aching with a need he didn't yet understand and wasn't confident enough to seek to satisfy with any boldness losing to his heart aching with a need he felt far more sharply and understood far more clearly.
Ezre's delicate jaw clenched for a moment and he chose to use the simple motions of unfastening stays and carefully peeling away wet layers as his own metaphor: revealing the Hessean's body to his view while he revealed his truths to her in words, standing behind her and whispering with quiet urgency,
"We have spoken of ghosts before, and whether you recognize it or not, we experienced a taste of the truth in Intas in the Crypts on Clock's Eve. I have kept things that I know from you because—" His breath hitched, beginning to slide away crimson from freckled flesh, slowly, words spilling from his lips to fill the tension in the air, "—because I was afraid you would not believe me. Because I did not want to lose our friendship over needless disagreements. Because I have made oaths to keep Hexxos secrets. Because I like you in more than just the platonic sense and I do not know how to navigate these strange new waters. I do not know how to reveal myself—it is not like undressing. This is easier. It feels good. I want more, but—I—"
Her dress sloughed heavily to the floor and the boy found himself staring at her back, undergarments still clinging to her skin, the pleasing curve of her spine and her feminine shape there in his full view. He hesitated, words burning his tongue, more of himself longing to be given to her in too many ways at once. Much as she'd done, he reached out with featherlight, tentative fingers, tracing over skin that had not been marked with ink like his had.
He felt her warmth, felt the way her flesh gave so generously to his touch instead of resisted with the cold indifference of death. Ezre was far from anything familiar and his pulse sang in his veins, stepping around to stand in front of her, dark eyes roaming over all there was to see, taking in everything with a very heated sense of overwhelm building in the cavity of his chest.
"Oh, by the Circle! I was not prepared for this kind of beauty. I thought I was—I thought—you are—uh—I—I cannot do this—not like this. You are so much more than an interesting experiment—"
Ezre was blushing, edges of his eyes stinging with a tumultuous mix of admiration, of fear, and of honesty, aware that he sounded stupid, stuttering. He felt far more exposed. He felt helpless. He half-sobbed, half-laughed, shivering or trembling or shuddering under the weight of what they were doing, of what he wanted to do, of what he wanted to say. Instead of moving to undress her further, instead of reaching to touch more of what he could see, he stepped closer to simply embrace her, arms gently seeking to wrap around her.
Weak-kneed, light-headed, desperate for an anchor, he was quiet for several moments, awkward and suddenly so self-aware. The Hoxian whispered fervently, lips brushing her ear and eyes shut almost painfully tight even though he sought to hold her gently,
"Those days I did not meet you in Bethas—I—I had been possessed. I went to Ghost Town to attempt some questionable Clairvoyance spells and—something happened—and—I willingly offered myself—I—it is who I am, Lilanee. I need to tell you these things—but—I do not want to hide from you. I cannot separate my physical interest in you from my emotional investment in your company. It would be unfair. It would be a lie. I understand if—if I have made a mistake here. I am sorry."