Rhy'din was ringed with trees in certain spots. Spots where Hawk had inhabited before. A familiar bit of forest that outcropped the borders of town just before battlements and walls alike. Once, in the Spring, Autumn, and Summer he had called them home. Harkening back on days of yore that felt more like dreams these days anyways, Hawk moved through the frost that had accumulated. Stopped. Listened. Became one with his surroundings. He did this until the moon hung high or was hidden by the constant overcast and threat of precipitation. But..

There was nothing left for him here anymore. No matter how he searched during the day. No matter how he searched during the night. The animals he once called friend or family had forgotten him when he moved to the further reaches over the last few years. Every year pushing further into a lush and dense forest, further and further away from heartache. Into the cold, sometimes, until he was numb. Into the tropics until he no longer remembered. And back once more, into Rhy'din, when he had overcome. So he came to these forests he had once called home when he found a reason to stay close to Rhy'din to apologize. He came and stayed for hours, searching, tracking. Only he found nothing. No one. And the only person to apologize to was himself. If he found it he found sleep in the warm confines of heavy blankets in simple bedding.

Three nights turned, accidentally, into a fourth, and he finally found purpose in his steps. Meaning in every stride. A definite destination. The former Ranger knew these alleys and side streets as well as every main thoroughfare, and also knew when it was quicker, and easier, to climb a wall. He knew it was late but he hoped, and found no movement or light at the gallery's door. Her quarters were upstairs but maybe, just maybe, she would be at the balcony looking down. He wound around and found no tall, willowy, and fair skinned figure. But a way up to the door. Her door. He stared, then took the stairs, two at a time, and stood in front of it. Breathing. Thinking. Until a poignant pause passed and he knocked.

The apartment was quiet, only a few lights on. The knock seemed to join the whistle of the teapot in a duet. "Jus' a sec, Beks!" Juliane leaned and called out, moving the kettle off the flame. Dropping the towel to the counter, long strides took her to the door. "Did ya ferget yer key a...." The door flung wide and the words died out on her lips.

"Yer not Beks." Obvious farm girl was obvious. Leaning against the door frame, rather disheveled and dressed in an over sized henley and leggings, barefoot and with her hair in a curly tangle.

With the back lighting of the apartment's soft glow and the moonlight, her blush was evident. "Hi there."

"I am..." The former Ranger either wasn't fond of contractions or they didn't work with his otherworldly accent. She had spilled light outside, and the cloak" It positively danced with color now. "...sorry this is so forward." A queer character indeed. Cuddles under cloaks. Kisses. Nights together. And knocking on her door was forward. But there was something to be said about the remnant Hawk Jahad. Olde towne fashion sense. And old fashioned to the bone. But the blush was too much to ignore. And even though she had not been ready for visitors there was something about that pose, about that get up, that made him pause. Some could say his unlined features were boyish. That rueful grin he wore now was just that. Earthen eyes traced her from head to toe and back again. And all he could say was "Hello."

She started to say hello again, and just stare at him like some doe-eyed schoolgirl. But the winter breeze was making her toes curl with cold. "No need ta apologize. Would ya....like ta come in?" Stepping back, she held the door for him.

Teeth tugged at her lower lip at his glance, but the grin was in her eyes. "Glad ta hear it." It was like standing in front of a bonfire and feeling it scorch your face. She broke it only long enough to place the tray down on the long bench that ran in front of the divan. Moving to the windows, she lit a few candles so they wouldn't have to squint in only moonlight.

Not that he would have to. Enhanced senses had given him almost perfect night vision. The former Ranger had honed them over the years. The difficult part about his heightened hearing was that it was hard to make out those insignificant sounds most people were oblivious to making over his heart in his ears. The balcony shone with candlelight, and although he could see the night sky surrounding him he only had eyes for her. "You look nice." When he reached for his tea.

She poured herself a mug, the blush blooming again before she stepped up onto the divan and settled at one end, cross-legged. "If ya think this is somethin', ya should see me tomorrow...." A slow smile as she added a couple sugar cubes and some milk.

"Tomorrow." For now it seemed a foreign concept. The former Ranger barely knew what he would be doing in a few hours. There were so many urges and he did not know what to do with any of them. He took a sip, and sat down on the divan too. Only a few inches away. "What is tomorrow?"

"Th' Talon of Redwin tournament." Blowing on the surface of the tea to cool it slightly before she sipped. "It's fer swords an' I don't do that, but some friends of mine are fightin', so I'm goin' ta cheer 'em on. It's gonna be fancy wi' prizes fer th' best dressed."

"And you plan on competing for the prize." There wasn't a question in Hawk's voice. He glanced furtively out over the surface of his tea, blowing, then sipping, while he watched her. "I would love to see you tomorrow."

"Well, I'm gonna give it my best shot." A small grin spread. "Ya ....could be my date if ya wanted..." Who was the forward one now, hmm"

"In a heartbeat." And he hadn't let one pass between the implied question. Those hands, capable of such violence. The epitome of what he once was, with their scar calloused surface. One held the mug. The empty one he set down upon her forearm, gentle, soft, admiring the contrast in their skin. His bronze, scarred, and hers perfect, and fair. "But I wll be too busy too to attend." He inhaled a stark breath, pushing out the slight and well defined rise of musculature in his chest. "I have a meeting with someone about finding my brother."

"Oh." She nodded, blinking. "Yeah, it was a bit of late notice...." A pause, looking down at his touch. "....and it sounds like yer meeting is way more important than a casino night." Her eyes found his. "I hope it is a good meetin'."

"Me too." Muscles tensed, moving all that segmented bits of exposed skin in his forearm when he gave her forearm a little squeeze then let go. "I have not heard from him in over five winters now. Perhaps he has found himself a new life and grew tired of my infrequent communication and visits. Or grew to spite me for leaving Rhy'din for so long because a relationship ended."

She did not respond to the relationship quip. "It's important ta look fer things tha' are lost. Ya never know what sorts of other things might be found in th' exploration." It was her turn now to reach out, resting light fingers on the curve from shoulder into arm. "Or perhaps he jus' doesn't know yer lookin' yet. I wouldn't do anythin' ta spite my brother fer leavin."

"I do not know how I would feel." He set the mug down by his thigh. "Some bonds are stronger than others. I forgot mine because of foolishness." He shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe he will forgive me. Maybe I will never find him."

Her fingers slid higher towards that tense muscle connecting shoulder to neck. "Are ya always this hard on yerself?"

"I have a lot of regrets." Confessions spoke quietly within the confines of her home. There was a day he would have happily died when he sung songs, spun stories, loved, laughed, and drank. Now there was not much left.

"Who doesn't, babe? Who doesn't..." She lifted her hand and it hovered a moment before moving to rest on her knee. "But ya can't let them hold ya back from all that is an' still can be."

"Aye." Echoed, though her words resounded within. "First among them not getting to see what you are wearing tomorrow." Mischief caressed his features. Of course his face was wrought, etched into that perpetual patience. But now someone had scrawled mirth subtly into his eyes. "Or maybe letting you leave that morning and not seeing you since then."

"Exactly my point." She sipped her tea, settling back against the arm of the divan, her left elbow bend and supporting her as she watched him. "Though maybe if ya apologize and are real nice, I'll show ya th' dress. It was delivered today and is hangin' in th' closet."

"My sincerest apologies, Lady Juliane, for being unable to attend this gathering as your consort." There was that bow, fit for a royal court, deep, though he sat. It pretty much closed much of the proximity gap between them. He lifted his head, looked up at her, and winked.

She giggled and leaned closer, their faces nearly touching. "I meant apologize fer not seein' me fer three days, even when ya really wanted to." The heat radiated from him like a coal furnace or a potbellied stove.

The tea was set down onto the bench. They were calloused rough, scarred heavy, and divited in multiple places. But with both of them free he gingerly cupped either side of her face and kissed her in a way that spoke how much he regretted that absence much better than words could. Besides, his tongue was a lot less clumsy this way than it was with trying to speak Common.

She melted into him the way butter does on warm toast, seeming to blur against his lips. With as expressive as his kiss was, it would be a wonder if he ever found the need to seek language again. Luckily her own mug had been nearly empty as it fell to the floor with a soft thud.

And so did Hawk. She leaned and he knew he had no need to keep her face captive. Instead he pulled to press his torso in against hers. It was times like these when he found himself lost once more in the sunshine she brought everywhere that he thought he could find forgiveness for himself.

Long arms wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape. For all her contrast to his bronzed skin, she tasted like apples, ripening under the heat of the sun. She was hope and life, possibility and potential. And he could feel all of that pulsing within her every moment the kiss continued.

The former Ranger knew this. He had seen it. Sensed it. And now tasted it on his tongue. Long laps between rolls of his lips on her own. Delicate when needed. Insistent for others. Surging forward and retreating backward as needed. It was definitely not for decoration but the gesture was loud and clear. The sheath was the first thing to come up and over his shoulders, falling to the ground in a clatter when they both surfaced for air. He only let that moment pass a half breath before he submerged himself again. "I..." Managed when he moved to press a few kisses to her neck, beneath her ear, so he could only whisper it prayer reverent when he confessed. "..missed you."

She gasped, whether for air or at the sensation of his kisses and breath tickling her ear. "I...." her hands slid down his back, over the ridge where the leather sheath strap had worn an indentation into his vest. "...couldn't tell. Th-thanks fer clarifying it.." A low chuckle, like the bubbling of a brook.

Time taken to test those waters again. The quick pecks turned into lingering laps of his open mouth against her pulse. Ties and cords kept the simple green tunic to his torso and he loosened them all, then pulled it up and overhead. The moonlight would have sufficed, but beneath the candles there was much more writ into his flesh than those simple scars had let on. It was a dense build of lithe muscle bore from many days training and too little days with actual food. But the scars on the front were so many it was like someone had writ tales in some jarring, haphazard language into his flesh. And in the back there was a mass of criss crossing permanent welts that said he had once known the strap.

She became silent as he removed the tunic, gentle fingertips skimming over the surface of his skin with reverence, tracing, smoothing, as if his body was written in Braille that only she could read.

He shuddered, shivered and not because of the cold. It was a delicate touch he could have cherished at that point. Where his left nipple had been was a patch of recessed skin, taken off with a blade ages ago and leaving only a small square of darkened unnatural keloid. It was her lips he sought and found now that she was seeing all of him, unabated, unabashed. From his past to his present.

Her palms pressed against his chest, fingers splayed, as if they sought out every memory, ever pain of his past like a balm. Lifting her chin as his lips found her, she answered him hungrily, pinned between his body and the arm of the divan.

He hadn't meant to. But in his insistence, in his fervence, she had become pressed back into the arm of the divan. Serpentine the muscles coiled and uncoiled beneath her touch, and he relented long enough to situate her lengthwise. Laid out along the cushions so her back was smothered into them. His hands sought the hem of her shirt so he could feel her warmth. Meld with her. Move the flesh against flesh.

Long legs became entwined with his. She released him long enough to lift her arms above her head, pulling the shirt up and over as she did so. Arching against him as she tossed it behind them.

Bared now, and arched, he undulated. Hands finding freedom in skin. Searching, finding, coveting. He wanted every last bit committed to memory before he would allow himself forget. They rolled and somehow he ended up in the dominant position, clothed hips between her legging covered legs, mouths molded to each other as close as their bared torsos. Her short, manicured nails skimmed over his back, along different welts as she pulled him closer, urged him on. Breaking their kiss long enough to catch her breath, she looked up at him with wide eyes.

And for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime he found comfort. He rose to the challenge. He met her eyes. They found it warmer just within the balcony than they ever had then. Was she ready? The better question was, was he ready?