[center][H3][color=ed1c24]Katia[/color] & [color=ec008c]Wick[/color][/h3][/center]
Fatigue finally encroached upon the armored cleric, despite the perpetual energy fueled by this peculiar realm. She could not recall the last exhaustive trek she undertook, as her body was oft spoiled by her frequent meditation and intermittent skirmishes with lesser shades. This lassitude warned her of an impending lethargy, that would alleviate with only slumber, to which she inherently detested, from her prior millennium of a sleepless existence as an Eladrin. Katia seemed to watch intently as the warlock assembled bottles of ale, as improvised alarms, in case doors or windows haphazardly opened and tilted their glass shells to be dashed onto the oaken floor.

[color=ec008c]“If you desire to assist, juggling is not required.”[/color] A slight tease bellowed to her Beloved, suggesting a benefit from another’s facilitation.

Katia stood in the doorway to the hall, her arms crossed. She could overhear the conversation between Theodore and Thea from her position, and her face was somber. [color=ed1c24]“I didn’t want to interrupt,”[/color] she replied to the aasimar as she stepped back into the kitchen. A quiet silence fell over the area as Katia approached, carefully avoiding any bottles still on the ground. Suddenly, her arms were thrown around Wick’s shoulders, and the other woman could feel wet droplets on her neck as Katia held back her ragged breaths.

The diviner’s parade was interrupted by the moans of the Tabaxi; the embraced components rattled in her vise-like grip, refusing to return the warmth Katia instinctively offered. This one-sided abstinence of emotional remuneration never slighted her Beloved, which reemphasized the unconditional passion that this furry female possessed towards the reborn Celestial. 

A sigh eventually broke the taciturnity. [color=ed145b]“Not now. My flesh is not prepared for your promised gifts.”[/color]

After a pivot and a few steps dissolved the hug, the mage finally discerned that a waterfall of sorrow riddled her companion’s face. The muted sobs struck an unusual chord within Wick, as her feline confidant never once cracked a sliver of sadness before.

[i]Ever.[/i]

[color=ec008c]“Katia. What troubles you?”[/color]

Katia shook her head. [color=ed1c24]“It’s... it’s nothing,”[/color] she forced out, wiping away her tears. [color=ed1c24]“I’m sorry.”[/color] She looked away from her longtime friend for a moment. [color=ed1c24]“It’s just... everything is moving so fast, you know? Everyone we know is probably dead. And we get here, and everything is shadows and misery and...”[/color] Katia sighed, closing the gap. [color=ed1c24]“I just needed a hug. I know that’s not really your thing, but... could I please stay in your room tonight? I don’t want to be alone, and Th-- I mean, I don’t have any other options.”[/color]

[i]Another exhalation.[/i]

Not of disdain, nor of complaint, but of empathy. This fuzzy woman bereft with lacrimation, grieved for their whole world, altruistically bearing the wretched woe and weepy desolation of countless souls, now lost to the ebon darkness. It was curious how someone so young, happy and naive could be reflective enough to reap the nefarious considerations of their helpless plight. 

Wick, Katia and the other wardens of Light seemingly failed Turyn, and now history may repeat itself for Birbin’s realm. 

[color=ec008c]“Come, Beloved. Obedience always sways to the rewarding master of rest. Forget such crude thoughts. My company will fend off such fearful apparitions.”[/color]

Katia smiled at Wick, a small and vulnerable grin appearing on her lips. [color=ed1c24]“Th-thanks Wick,”[/color] she said, her arms wrapping around the aasimar for a quick embrace. [color=ed1c24]“Let’s get to sleep,”[/color] she suggested, tugging at Wick’s arm. [color=ed1c24]"We’ll be safe here tonight.”[/color] The two eventually shared the same bed; Katia’s arms holding Wick close the entire night.

Repose settling within and from without Wick, while she maintained her protective, metal sarcophagus, provided a spiritual struggle. The adjacent Tabaxi’s purrs emitted boisterously, as the reincarnated librarian attempted to seek her elvish roots of trance-like meditation, isolating her thoughts from the tempting surroundings, but unfortunately to no avail. Angels, apparently, required physical respite; the lull postponing the vowed hiatus, mentioned over the bottled mead. Eventually, a stupor consumed the scholar, against her best attempts to resist. 

Morning soon dawned, impregnating her mind with horror as her half-plate was not on her corpus but shed alongside her clothes at the foot of the bed.

Katia’s arms still clung to Wick, holding her close even as the cleric stirred. Her embrace tightened and she nuzzled Wick’s shoulder as the morning light pulled her into consciousness. [color=ed1c24]"Just a few more minutes,”[/color] she murmured before her eyes opened. [color=ed1c24]“Oh... Milya... thanks for last night,”[/color] she muttered, her head laying down on Wick’s shoulder as a smile crept across her face.

Mouth agape, the scantily clad aasimar shivered in dismay. This violation must have transpired mutually, but there was no evidence of a cognizant breach. The maniacal rays of the laughing sun tickled her bare skin, as fur nestled ever closer, nuzzling her bed mate with a soft afterglow.  Terror and shock snaked onto the warlock's face, while her memory sought desperately the rationale behind the previous evening’s apparent tango and moonlit sonata. Soon, legs freed themselves from the shackles of the sheets, struggling to savor dignity as quickly as possible. Once clothes and later the metallic breastplate snugged into place, Wick offered an awkward pause with a belted rebuttal, before racing to meet the others.

[color=ec008c]“Reciprocity is ecstatic and erratic with its flippant members, blessing one with joy and another with a fugue. Relish these experiences, Beloved, for I am doubtful our future will hold such a consensual commune ever again.”[/color]