“I - I - uh - Uhm - right let's go!” And in what was a first Nevin turned and just barely kept his pace below a run as he moved into the trees.
The blood mage was absolutely mortified - how had he not noticed that his threads had emerged from his skin? They'd never come out without conscious thought on his part before - was it because of this forest, this strange feeling of comfort and content that was dancing in his magic? As he thought about it he managed to feel, and prevent, his threads from slipping back out. Oh Crimson what would Stare think of him now??
Stare watched him hastily bustle deeper into the depths of the trees. Her brow high she blinked a few, simple times, unsure of whether to laugh or to gawp. Her hesitation went on for so long that she realised he had almost drifted out of sight before she thought. Quickly, she dashed after him, her right hand curling into an awkward fist, unsure of whether what she had done was rude or embarrassing.
Were their social etiquette rules for handling another’s extra limbs?
Interesting, came the comment.
Obviously he had been watching. She knew he would likely be watching this entire adventure, between whatever meetings he had today - personal or business.
I will admit that was, she agreed.
Vitruvion nodded a few times, an image he sent her, then leant back in his chair in his private study. She could feel the warmth between her fingers as he cupped warm tea to his breast. Inhaling fast, Stare threw the image from her mind, anxious for her friend. True, it was the first time she had felt a heat sensation between her and he, but that did not matter, not now. Nevin did more, and the fact that they were in a naturally dangerous place. Thus, she steeled herself for a possible attack at any moment.
“Nevin,” she huffed as she caught up with him. “Its fine. Sorry for … Sorry.”
Nevin kept his face firmly turned away from Stare as she caught up. He waved one hand back at her - he could not look in her direction or she would see the rather intense blush that was only now starting to drain from his head.
“I'm the one who should be sorry. They've ah, never acted like that before. I also, uh, never knew I could actually feel things with them. It was a strange sensation.” And one he would have to experiment with - later. Stare was just a friend, and they were currently in what was called one of the most dangerous forests in the world. Experimenting with the strangely pleasurable sensations of having his threads handled would come later.
Though. Finding someone who would handle what were, well, tendrils (he steadfastly would not call them tentacles), would be a difficult proposition. No, that would just have to be a concern for later. He had never noticed it before, so maybe it was just because he had been caught off guard, not paying attention? It was also the first time they'd been out without him having some kind of a goal for them, was there an unknown mental component as well? Hrm.
