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[color=808080][color=c7b29b][b]#c7b29b[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://imgur.com/mXwRSmT][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c].....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [b]party > her cabin[/b] [color=2e2c2c].....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://imgur.com/abg0vvh][color=808080][b]rocco[/b][/color][/url][/color]
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[indent][indent][indent][indent][justify][color=808080]Having a conversation about Sloane’s shitty taste in men didn’t feel like the best topic, regardless if it might have been the catalyst that led her to take up a seat besides Duke and seek refuge with him. It was hard for her to tell if it all came about because it was that obvious, thus she was that [i]stupid[/i], or just really well placed irony. She probably would have mulled it over more if a warm hand on her shoulder didn’t pull her out of her thoughts. Her brows furrowed as she looked over at him.

[color=851f1f]"You’ve got a good heart, that’s all. They’ll start weighing things out in time,"[/color] Duke said as he pointed between her head and heart. 

Sloane wanted to ask how he knew. It wasn’t like they had ever had a conversation before then. But she wasn’t going to ruin his attempt at being kind with her own demons and doubts. [color=c7b29b]"I hope you’re right,"[/color] she replied with an uneven smile that tugged toward her right cheek. 

The tension across her back eased and she was able to relax into her seat a bit more as the conversation turned to lighter subjects. Ok, so Pandora’s box wasn’t necessarily [i]lighter[/i], but perhaps easier and more relatable than Sloane’s dating history. She’d [i]much[/i] rather talk about nearly dying rather than the mistakes of her past. Although the way Duke laughed at her shitty romance novel reference dipped them slightly back into unfamiliar territory. [color=851f1f]"Not at all,"[/color] he confessed. Sloane’s face scrunched up slightly at her failed attempt at a terrible joke. She should have known better. It wasn’t like he looked like the type to read shitty werewolf smut. [color=851f1f]"You’ve got a werewolf claw scar? Don’t worry, it makes you look pretty tough. Enduring,"[/color] he added with a smile. 

[color=c7b29b]"I didn’t see what attacked me,"[/color] she clarified with a shrug and weak smile. [color=c7b29b]"It is a claw mark. But if that’s from a werewolf? Or a bear? Or someone with really long nails? That I don’t know."[/color] Sloane wasn’t entirely sure if she agreed with his assessment. It felt [i]wrong[/i] for her to have a gruesome scar like she was a battle hardened warrior, when all she did was run too slow to avoid getting caught in its talons. Others, like Duke, would probably find a way to wear it as a badge of honor. But to her eyes she just felt [i]blemished.[/i] She wasn’t the type to think she was particularly pretty, but a giant scar that ran down the length of her back and halfway down her leg only made her feel… uglier. 

[color=851f1f]"I sort of like your company,"[/color] Duke admitted while rubbing the back of his neck. 

Sloane hadn’t considered how the joke she made at her own expense could be taken. So when he spoke up, his words caught her a little off guard. She might have looked a bit bewildered but her smile was soft and almost warm in a way it hadn’t been since Ace indirectly ruined her night. [color=c7b29b]"So you’re saying there [i]is[/i] something wrong with you then?"[/color] she teased gently, but only for a moment before she let her tone become the faintest bit more serious. [color=c7b29b]"Thanks."[/color] Her head tilted to the side slightly as her smile grew a fraction at his confession. 

Subconsciously, she took a small step in the general direction of her cabin assuming he’d follow after Fiona. But the dismissive way Duke waved his hand and almost scoffed caught her attention. [color=851f1f]"She can handle herself. But you."[/color] She pointed to herself a little confused as he met her gaze and smiled. [color=851f1f]"Can I ask who you’re hiding from?"[/color]

She sucked in a breath through clenched teeth as tension knit across her shoulders and her gaze fell to Rocco sitting patiently beside her. Sloane tugged her sleeves over the heels of her palms as she tried to piece together her answer. [color=c7b29b]"He’s new,"[/color] she replied with a sigh. [color=c7b29b]"His name’s Ace. Tattoos. Looks like a walking red flag,"[/color] she added with a self deprecating laugh before she pointed in the direction of the bar. [color=c7b29b]"He was the one who uh…"[/color] Her brows furrowed as she tried to find a delicate way to word it, but ended up grimacing and waving her finger in that direction instead of saying it. [color=c7b29b]"... with Blair."[/color]

Duke sighed, seeming about as over the party as she was. [color=851f1f]"If you’ve had enough I’ll walk you to your cabin. Or we could just walk?"[/color] He held up his hands in surrender before she had a chance to answer one way or the other. [color=851f1f]"I’m sure you can walk yourself. Especially next to a few other people. I just wanna get away before the midnight festivities."[/color]

[color=c7b29b]"Yeah,"[/color] Sloane sighed softly in agreement as her gaze drifted around the people who lingered around the party, drunk and likely to partake in less than tolerable making out within the next couple moments. Witnessing that was not on her list of fun activities. She looked back over at him with a warm smile, a bit surprised by his offer to walk her, but appreciative of the gesture. [color=c7b29b]"Are you sure? My cabin’s near the beach."[/color] She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb in the general direction of her cabin. She didn’t have much of an idea where Duke’s was, but considering they never really ran into each other, it was likely on the opposite side of camp. 

When he didn’t seem bothered and proceeded to follow her anyway, Sloane didn’t argue and started leading them down the path around the stables. They walked in silence for a bit before Duke filled the silence while looking down at Rocco. [color=851f1f]"You know how big he’s gonna get? If you need a bed or doggy door for him I’m happy to help."[/color]

[color=c7b29b]"I don’t even know what kind of dog he is,"[/color] she confessed as she looked down at the pup, ears bouncing softly as he trotted alongside her. [color=c7b29b]"He was Liam’s,"[/color] Sloane admitted quietly. She wasn’t entirely sure why she felt the need to share that. Maybe it was because a small part of her felt like no matter how hard she tried, that she still wasn’t Liam and that Rocco would rather be with him, given the choice. Her smile faded slightly as she sighed, but she tried to push past it as she looked back over at Duke. [color=c7b29b]"Thank you."[/color] Her voice was barely above a whisper, but no less genuine. [color=c7b29b]"He’d sooner die a pathetically dramatic death before giving up his spot in my bed,"[/color] she added with a soft laugh, reminiscing on how much he whined whenever she kept him out of her bed. It didn’t even last an hour before she caved. [color=c7b29b]"But he’d probably love a doggy door. Although I might need to focus on some kind of fence first or he’d get into Gods know what."[/color]

They had made it about halfway to her cabin when a firework soared into the sky and exploded overhead. The initial bang made Sloane jump slightly before her gaze immediately fell to Rocco. She didn’t think of the possibility of fireworks but knew how dogs commonly got spooked by them. He jumped a little like herself and looked around a bit confused, but he was quickly mesmerized by the sparkling lights then distracted by Duke as he lowered himself to his level. Her brows tugged together as she watched them curiously. He patiently earned Rocco’s trust by letting the dog sniff his hand then scooped him up into his arms like he weighed nothing. A surprised gasp escaped her lips when a wet snout was turned to face her. [color=851f1f]"Only guy you need to spend the new year with."[/color]

Sloane’s smile lit up her eyes as the fireworks thundered its climax over camp. She reached up, adjusting Rocco’s tartan bowtie then gently cupped his face in her hands and gave it a playful little shake. [color=c7b29b]"He is a loyal one."[/color] She rubbed his ears before shifting to the tips of her toes and leaning in to give him a kiss on the top of his head. The second she went to pull away his tongue slapped against the side of her face, licking a wet trail up her cheek. Her face contorted into a playful grimace as she used her sleeve to wipe the saliva from her face. 

[color=c7b29b]"He knows the rest of the way."[/color] She pointed down the path as her heels lowered back to the ground, shifting off the tips of her toes. Once Rocco was set back down, Sloane pointed down the path. [color=c7b29b]"Home,"[/color] she commanded gently. Then with a jump and a bark the dog sprinted off in a streak of grey, disappearing around the bend. 

Her pace remained leisurely and steady as the dusting of snow crunched beneath her boots. Sloane frowned at the streak of makeup smudged along the sleeve of her shirt. It was strangely poetic how with the final fireworks at midnight Rocco lifted the veil, turning her back into a pumpkin with a single kiss. But rather than the party being full of ballgowns and Prince Charmings, there were drunks and sexual exploits. It was like ruining her makeup dropped the illusion, removing the pretense of being a person she wasn’t, and slowly pushed her back into the comfortable invisibility she was used to. 

As the lake came into view, Sloane led them down a narrow path nestled between the trees to the left. It gradually opened to a small clearing around her tiny cabin and Rocco sitting patiently in the snow right in front of the door. Her steps slowed until she stopped a few feet away from her dog as he let out a long and dramatic yawn. She laughed softly and the faint traces of a smile curved at the corner of her lips. [color=c7b29b]"Thanks again for letting me hide with you… And the escort."[/color] Her head nodded slightly. While she didn’t cross paths with Ace or Blair or Sylas, it was nice having the safety of his company. [color=c7b29b]"Happy new year, Duke."[/color] Her voice was quiet, filling the stillness in the air in the absence of the party. She flashed him a warm smile and a small wave before disappearing inside her cabin with Rocco on her heels.[/color][/justify][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]

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[color=808080][b]interactions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] duke [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]mentions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] ace, blair & sylas [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]collabs[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] none[/color]
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[color=808080][color=86a8ad][b]#86a8ad[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://imgur.com/lq1Z2Ck][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c].....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [color=5a3e85][b]#5a3e85[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://imgur.com/aGarb8T][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c].....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [b]party > anissa's cabin[/b][/color]
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[indent][indent][indent][indent][justify][color=808080]River’s chest heaved, hot breath mixing with hers in the small space between them when Anissa finally broke the kiss. He could feel her eyes on him, but he waited a moment or two longer as a new fear twisted and rooted itself in his gut. Without the loud bangs of the fireworks, he could hear his gulp between deep, shaky breaths. When he had dragged out the quiet stillness long enough, River slowly opened his eyes and met her gaze. [color=86a8ad]"Happy—"[/color]

His hand slowly slipped from her waist and rose to cup her cheek, but before his fingers could brush against her soft skin, Anissa all but threw herself off his lap. Panic immediately roared to the forefront of his mind, washing away every other sensation like a tsunami. River watched her with wide eyes as his telltale flush quickly flooded his cheeks. His thoughts immediately cycled through any and every way he fucked everything up, while frantically trying to find the words to apologize or the will to move. But the moment she fell to her knees, all other thoughts fell to the wayside. He was off the log and crouched beside her in a second, one hand gently rubbing her back while the other held her hair out of the way.

Anissa stayed hunched forward for what felt like an eternity, her palms pressed into the frozen earth as if she needed its solidity to keep from falling apart. Her chest heaved, the metallic tang of salt still burning her throat and clinging to her nostrils. She spat, trying to rid herself of the taste, but it persisted on her tongue like seawater swallowed mid-drowning. The cold ground stung her palms and knees, a distant discomfort against the clammy sweat beading on her neck.

When River’s hand smoothed along her back, Anissa nearly flinched; her nerves were so raw. But the rhythmic circles he drew sliced through the nausea, providing a sense of anchor. His presence alone helped her breathe without gagging. Yet, despite his kindness, shame prickled against her cheeks. [i]Gods, what must he think of her?[/i] One moment she was kissing him with desperate intensity, the next she was on her hands and knees, sick from some cold, internal wrongness only she could feel.

Anissa’s eyes stung with embarrassed tears, but she refused to let them fall. Instead, she dragged a lightheaded breath into her aching lungs and whispered hoarsely, [color=5a3e85]"Sorry… I don’t…"[/color] She trailed off, the apology feeling futile. What was she even sorry for? Ruining the perfect moment? Her audacity? The bourbon, or this deeper, sickening violation of her own body? Her voice cracked as she tried again. [color=5a3e85]"I don’t usually…"[/color] But the sentence was impossible to finish. [i]I don’t usually lose control. I don’t usually end up like this.[/i] The words died in her throat, leaving only the sound of her ragged breathing and the steadfast pressure of his hand.

He waited patiently until she stopped retching, listening to her struggle to find words and inevitably falling short. There wasn’t much he could say or do that could console her or give her the reassurances she needed, besides just being there. It wasn’t like she [i]chose[/i] to get sick. While the past five minutes had been a whirlwind he was still trying to wrap his mind around, River was pretty confident the last thing she had intended was to bring it all to a screeching halt… Or at least he hoped so. 

[color=86a8ad]"Alright."[/color] River’s voice was quiet and calm as whatever nerves he had vanished and were replaced with a singular goal. [color=86a8ad]"Let’s get you home."[/color] 

He reached over and picked up her boots, then gently scooped her up into his arms. As he turned from the party, a stray thought redirected him toward the bar. It took a moment of searching along and behind the counter, but he eventually found a couple of bottles of water. He crouched down low enough so they were easy for Anissa to reach. [color=86a8ad]"Grab a water,"[/color] he instructed her gently.

When River’s arms slid beneath her, Anissa let out a tiny, surprised gasp. Her fingers instinctively clutched his shirt as he lifted her with an effortless strength that left her weightless. Against her will, her body relaxed into his, the pounding in her head dulled by the solid warmth of his chest. The sting of embarrassment remained, but the relief of no longer having to hold herself upright was overwhelming. Her boots dangled from his grip, his attention entirely fixed on her.

He carried her with a focused consideration that made Anissa want to hide. By the time he crouched by the bar, her hands had almost stopped shaking. She fumbled with the cap before finally twisting it open and gulping the water greedily. The cold liquid was a shock, doing little to erase the acrid salt lingering in her throat. Yet, the simple act of his care was a comfort in itself.

Tucked against him, Anissa felt something she hadn’t experienced in years: a profound sense of safety. It was the safety she had desperately dreamed of as a girl, when no one believed her visions and the word “histrionic” was hissed behind her back. It was a safety she never expected to find in another person, and the sensation was so intoxicating it tempted her to let her guard down completely.

But another part of her, calloused by years of ridicule and honed by survival, clawed its way back. This ingrained impulse recoiled from the comfort. To be safe was to be vulnerable, and to be vulnerable was to be seen. In her experience, being truly seen always led to risk—a risk that ended with people shrinking from the truth of who she was. The memory of others pulling away rose like a spectre, that familiar fear coiling hot in her chest, a serpent of doubt fighting the balm of his presence.

Anissa couldn’t help it. She hid her face as much as she could.
[color=5a3e85]"I'm sorry,"[/color] she mumbled again, the words muffled by his shirt. 

Nevertheless, she was no longer trembling. 

River spared a glance down at her, seeing nothing but the crown of her head and brunette hair as she buried her face in his chest. He gently adjusted his hold on her, the hand that held her boots shifting more securely beneath the bed in her knees. [color=86a8ad]"I’m not upset,"[/color] he replied quietly as he stepped off the field onto one of the main paths that led around camp. So many thoughts were buzzing around his head, but he was struggling to catch a single one and make sense of it. He didn’t [i]think[/i] he was upset. There was a part of him that would have preferred to still be by the bonfire, lost in the sensation of Anissa’s lips on his with her arms around him, but it was a selfish thought. He wasn’t sent to camp to be distracted by a girl. He was sent there to lead, guide, and train warriors. Yet, for reasons he couldn’t fully grasp, at least for one night, none of that mattered.

It took him a moment or two to find his bearings, but he was eventually able to retrace their steps from earlier and find the correct direction that would lead them toward the beach. River kept his pace slow and as steady as possible to hopefully not stir Anissa’s stomach any more than it was already unsettled. Without taking their unnecessary detour earlier, it didn’t take him long to find his way back to the cabin he assumed was hers. [color=86a8ad]"Is this yours?"[/color] he asked while turning slightly to make sure she could tell him one way or the other. 

The girl nodded her head weakly and hummed an affirmative. After receiving this confirmation, River slowly climbed the steps of her porch. It took some coordination, but he managed to crouch down, grab the doorknob with the hand that held her boots, and open the door. Once inside, he set her shoes down beside the entrance before he wandered around the unfamiliar cabin until he stumbled upon her bedroom. Figuring that after getting sick, Anissa might have wanted to be taken to the bathroom before passing out in bed, he carried her into the small adjacent room. He slowly set her back down on her feet on the small bathmat in front of the sink. His hands hovered in the air around her, preparing to catch her in case she wobbled or fell over. [color=86a8ad]"I can go wait outside. I just want to make sure you make it to bed ok."[/color] He spoke quietly, watching her intently through her reflection in the mirror. 

Anissa swayed once, catching herself with both palms flat on the cool porcelain. The mirror offered a brutally honest reflection: her skin was flushed, her hair tousled. The phantom taste of salt still clung to her throat, and she forced herself to take slow breaths, waiting for the world to stop tilting. Her gaze then lifted to find River in the glass, his figure hovering behind her like a steadfast promise.

[color=5a3e85]"I can manage,"[/color] she said, her voice more delicate than she had intended. River hesitated, his concern evident in the slight furrow of his brow, but he gave a short, respectful nod. He retreated into the main room, leaving the door deliberately cracked open. The sliver of space was his compromise, a gesture that honoured her dignity without surrendering his refusal to abandon her.

Once alone, Anissa fumbled with the faucet, twisting the handle until a rush of cold water streamed forth. She bent over the sink, splashing her face with cupped hands. The shock was immediate, a jolt that banished the fog in her head and chased away the worst of the nausea. Droplets clung to her lashes, beaded on her cheeks, and slid in icy trails down her throat. She welcomed the discomfort; it proved she was still here, still in control of at least this one, minute thing.

Her hands gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles stretched taut. For a moment, she hated the sight of herself: fragile, dishevelled, reduced to a gasping version of the girl who had, minutes ago, burned so brightly in his arms. She closed her eyes, inhaling the sterile scents of clean water and soap, and forced herself to stand upright. Her gaze drifted toward the narrow gap in the door. She cleared her throat, speaking just loud enough to be heard.

[color=5a3e85]"I’m just going to brush my teeth."[/color] It was half-explanation, half-reassurance. A way to demystify her actions so he wouldn’t worry and she wouldn’t feel so exposed under his vigil. Her fingers found the cup by the sink, then the toothbrush. She ran the bristles under the water, added a generous streak of mint paste, and began the familiar, scrubbing pattern. The foam spread cool across her tongue, its crisp freshness finally pushing back the last vestiges of that awful, briny taste. The act was mundane, almost absurd after the night's events, but it held her up more effectively than the water alone. She spat, rinsed, and repeated until her mouth felt truly clean. After dabbing her face with a towel, she turned off the tap. The ensuing silence felt huge, broken only by the hum of her own, now-calmer breathing.

Steeling herself, Anissa squared her shoulders and stepped toward the doorway, catching his reflection once more in the mirror. [color=5a3e85]"You can walk me the rest of the way now…"[/color] she mumbled, still unable to meet his eyes directly. [color=5a3e85]"Just…to the bed."[/color]

River waited patiently in her bedroom. There were several reasons why he didn’t sit on her bed while waiting, the main one being that it wasn't his cabin… And, you know, it was [i]her bed[/i]. He slipped his hands into the front pockets of his pants and leaned back against the shared wall between her room and the bathroom. There was a moment where he contemplated waiting in the living room, but he didn’t know if he'd be able to hear if she needed help all the way out there. It wasn’t like he was her keeper or anything, but he couldn’t, in good conscience, turn a blind eye when she could barely walk straight. His gaze remained fixated on his shoe as he idly bumped his heel against the baseboard. 

When her voice cut through the silence, River pushed off the wall and turned to face her. [color=86a8ad]"Yeah, ok."[/color] He nodded and took a step toward her. Then he hesitated, hands hovering in the air around her again like they had when she first fell in his lap. It wasn’t like he didn’t have his hands on her ten minutes earlier, but it was no longer triggered by blind temptation and a lapse in judgment. All his faculties had returned to him, and he was thinking clearly, [i]enough.[/i] So, of course, his awkwardness rooted itself back into the forefront of his mind. He cleared his throat, trying to ignore the blush that crept up his chest as he stepped up behind her and lightly rested his hands on her waist to help stabilize and guide her towards her bed.

Anissa caught the hesitation in his hovering hands. It was so different from the sure grip he’d had at the bonfire, his fingers holding her as if afraid she might vanish. Now, he seemed afraid to touch her at all. She didn’t call him on it, perhaps because she herself was wary of the answer. Was it regret? Restraint? Or something else entirely?

When his palms finally settled, a tentative pressure at her sides, Anissa allowed herself to lean back into the support they offered. Her steps across the short distance to the bed were sluggish but sure. As she reached the edge of the mattress, she let out a long, slow breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her fingers brushed the blanket as she lowered herself, but instead of releasing his hand, Anissa tightened her grip in a wordless request for him to stay. At least before she glanced up, catching the flush that still coloured the high planes of his cheeks, allowing herself to imagine how easy it would be not to let him go at all. To pull him down beside her. The compulsion was so strong she had to avert her gaze, saving herself from its full force.

[color=5a3e85]"Thank you… for staying. For getting me here."[/color] Anissa still didn’t look at him when she said it because she already knew what his answer might be: it was his responsibility, his duty as a leader and nothing more. And maybe, a cautious part of her warned, that was all this was.

River had intended to turn down the blankets and help tuck her in, maybe grab some water and aspirin if there was any stashed somewhere in her cabin. But the way Anissa grabbed his hand like a lifeline that was keeping her from drifting out to sea stopped him dead in his tracks and erased all other thoughts from his mind. His gaze searched the faint bits of her cheeks and nose that he could see beyond the crown of her head as she spoke. [color=86a8ad]"Of course."[/color] His voice was quiet and calm, but held an assuredness that showed there was no alternative where he wouldn’t have helped her. Even before their kiss, he would have helped her because they were friends. Now? Things were different in some unspeakable way that he couldn’t put his finger on. But that didn’t change everything. It didn’t change the magnetic pull that he had to be there for her, even if he didn’t know why. 

His thumb brushed over her knuckles—an unconscious motion, if Anissa had to guess—sending a delicate shiver tracing its way up her arm. Regardless of his intent, he didn’t try to reclaim his hand, and that simple fact meant more to her than any words could. Midnight had already come and gone, the fireworks burned down to drifting smoke they’d left behind on the field, but she found herself clinging to the spell of it all. A part of her had always believed the New Year marked a definitive ending, a boundary line where the night's magic would inevitably evaporate. Yet here he was, his hand still tangled in hers. And here she was, still daring to imagine that this moment didn't have to vanish with the final turn of the clock.

[color=5a3e85]"You don’t have to hover. Just…"[/color] Anissa gave his hand a firmer yet benign tug, urging him down toward her. The mattress dipped under his weight, the space beside her now occupied. 
[color=5a3e85]"Stay. A little longer?"[/color]

The words were a cover for a deeper plea, she knew, but her heart raced with the truth of it. She didn’t want him across the room, or poised at the door, or retreating into the safe, neutral territory of duty. She wanted him close enough to make the last remnants of midnight’s magic stretch into the early hours of the morning. Close enough that, when the spell finally broke, she wouldn't have to face the sobering aftermath alone.

When she tugged his hand, there was a fraction of a second where River’s mind raced through what it meant and what he should do. Did he step closer? Did he sit beside her? Did he push her back onto the bed and kiss her like before? [i]No. No, River.[/i] 
[color=86a8ad]"Ok,"[/color] he whispered, folding to her demands without hesitation or a second thought. He cleared his throat, not meeting her gaze as he let her beckoning lower him to sit on the bed beside her, close enough that their knees touched and his arm brushed against her shoulder. Even after dropping himself beside her, Anissa’s hand didn’t relinquish its hold on him. In the quiet simplicity of her cabin, alone, feeling her warmth radiating into him, he couldn’t stop his heart from racing. He swallowed, trying to steel his rising nerves, but the sound of it was so loud against the silence that it only made it worse.

Anissa kept her eyes on their joined hands, her thumb brushing his knuckles in a deliberate echo of his own gesture. The room was silent save for the wind brushing the windowpane, and she understood she would have to be the one to speak now. To act.

She risked a glance upward. He was close enough that she could see the fine tension in his jaw, the red still high on his cheeks. Her powers hadn’t stirred. There was no cold ache in her palm, no hungry urge to take. For once, she didn’t feel like a danger to someone she wanted to be close to, and she leaned into that precious reprieve. It might be gone in a minute, with the next heartbeat. But right now, she was free.

The realization lodged in her mind, hot and insistent. Suddenly, it wasn’t enough to just hold his hand or feel his presence beside her. Not when she could still taste the memory of his mouth against hers, the rush of that first kiss he had claimed in a moment of thoughtless bravery. That had been him crossing the distance. This time, she needed it to be her.

Anissa’s free hand lifted, seemingly of its own volition. It quivered only once before her fingers rose to trace the strong, defined edge of his jaw. A hint of stubble met her touch, and she smiled. A private, wondering thing. She had somehow missed that detail before. She turned toward him fully, closing the scant distance until his breath mingled with hers. She held there, suspended, close enough to feel any uncertainty in him and to test the resolve in her own heart.

But her nerve didn't fail. Instead, her lips met his with an unplanned tenderness, a kiss that held none of their previous frantic urgency. It was brief, a soft and searching question. The realization of what she’d done caught up to her swiftly, a wave of vulnerability that made her breath stutter as she drew back, leaving their mouths separated by only the barest, most charged of inches.

River’s gaze had been fixated on a random spot on the wall opposite them, focusing on steadying his breath and grounding himself… Until he felt the tips of her fingers brush hesitantly against his jaw. He inhaled a short breath at the gentle contact, and his chest tightened in nervous anticipation. He slowly turned his head into her touch so that he could look down into her dark eyes, cast in shadows beneath her messy hair and soft brows. While tension still hung in the air between them, there was also a calm curiosity absent from the additional factors that had ignited them earlier. He didn’t help Anissa to her cabin with the assumption of getting another kiss. If anything, he figured she’d pretend it never happened. Yet, like the countless times that evening, she subverted his expectations.

Her lips found his once again. It wasn’t desperate or passionate, but a gentle caress that was far more tender and affectionate, like a whispered secret between the two of them without the chaotic haze of fireworks and prying eyes. There was something about the kiss that felt far more intimate, even though everything about it was vastly more innocent than what they shared before. 

When she pulled away, River felt a sinking weight at the distance between them and the absence of her warmth against his lips. The boldness within him that had fallen dormant stirred back to life as his hand moved of its own accord. His fingers ran along her collarbone, hooked around the back of her neck and slipped into the hair at the base of her skull. The gentle pressure of his hand eased her closer as he filled the space between them with another kiss. He exhaled deeply through his nose as his lips locked with hers, tender but sensual, not seeking immediate gratification but to prolong a moment that felt like it would slip away with the dawning of a new year.

His mouth moved against hers, tasting of clean water and something uniquely [i]River[/i]: a flavour both invigoratingly plain and profoundly reassuring, chasing the last persistent doubts from her mind. He wanted this. He wanted [i]her[/i]. The pad of his thumb stroking an unhurried rhythm against the nape of her neck all but confirmed it, eliciting a shiver of pure contentment, nothing like the frigid wrongness that had followed their first kiss.

Anissa’s free hand rose to rest against his chest. Beneath her palm, she felt the thundering cadence of his heartbeat, a wild, insistent drum matching her own. His breath came in shallow bursts against her lips, and she caught the way his frame inclined toward her, leaning into a current he was desperately trying to hold back. Her fingers curled into his shirt, gripping him as if she could coax that restrained flood to break and sweep her away.

And then, it did. 

A creeping sensation began to build in Anissa’s chest, a pressure like an unseen tide pulling her under. It was stronger this time, more pronounced, stealing her breath and making her lightheaded in a way that was both terrifying and intoxicating. She had thought she knew what it meant to be dragged under, to lose herself in something infinite and merciless. But she’d been wrong. 

Her fingers clenched tighter in his shirt, and the kiss deepened by untamed instinct. Anissa guided him with the arch of her body, easing back against the mattress. Her hand slid from his chest to his collar, drawing him down with her. He followed in a gradual capitulation, until the mattress sighed beneath them and the reality of him hung over her. She welcomed that engulfing weight, folding it into the kiss and the shelter of his body blanketing hers. If she was going to be swept away, she wanted him there with her. An anchor against the force threatening to pull her into the depths.

River’s body acted on instinct rather than thought, heeding every silent command. Whenever her lips found his, he pressed in more. Whenever she pulled him, he leaned in, closing more of the distance between them. The hesitations he had before around the bonfire fell by the wayside with every gentle reassurance, from the way she wanted him to stay, how her hand still held tight to his, and how the pauses between their kisses grew fewer and farther between as every touch became more needy and intentional. 

There was a fleeting moment where River paused, trying to find the strength or resolve to stop.  But feeling the way her hand tugged at the collar of his shirt, enticing him to fold to her every desire, all sense of control and reason vanished piece by piece with every kiss. His hand slipped free from hers and hooked around the small of her back as it arched, easing her back against the bed as she pulled him down with her. His other hand fell from the back of her neck to brace against the mattress and support some of his weight. As the distance between their bodies shrank, River’s waist nestled into the space between her legs and his chest lightly pressed against hers. His kisses grew deeper and hungrier as he began trailing his lips along her jaw and down the side of her neck while his knee hooked beneath her thigh as it slid up the bed, easing her leg up and around his waist. 

The fervour of his body enveloped her as his lips traced down her neck, his breath searing against her skin. Anissa angled her head without thought, offering him more. Her fingers clutched his collar as if afraid the moment might unravel. She curved into him, her hands digging into the solid muscle of his back, urging him closer, eliminating any space she might have used to retreat. But she didn’t want to. That certainty only sharpened when his knee pressed between her thighs, sending licks of fire through her. The whimper that broke from her throat was unbidden and unmistakable.

Anissa swallowed hard, the sound dissolving into a breathy laugh tinged with nervousness and raw want. Lost in the haze, her fingers drifted to the first button of his shirt, fumbling against the simple obstruction. The movement was uncoordinated, her dexterity blunted by adrenaline and bourbon, yet the intent was indisputable. She wanted more of him. More proof that this was real, and that she wasn’t dreaming it out of suffocating loneliness.

The quiet, pleading sound that slipped from Anissa’s lips between heavy breaths ignited an insatiable fire inside River like nothing he had ever felt before. He slowly reached back to seize her knee gently in his grasp. Heat radiated from his palm, through her tights, and along her supple skin as his hand slowly trailed up her thigh until the tips of his fingers brushed along the hem of her dress. He was lost in her warmth and intoxicated by the sounds he pulled from her. His heart fluttered, and every muscle in his torso tensed when she started unbuttoning his shirt. 

There was a second where River didn’t only let it happen, he [i]wanted[/i] it to happen. He wanted to lose himself entirely to her in that moment, consequences be damned. But the lingering hint of bourbon on Anissa’s tongue and the fumbling of her fingers as they migrated to the second button of his shirt pulled him out of his mental fog. He groaned, frustrated at his own inability to ignore his moral code as his forehead fell to rest against her collarbone. [color=86a8ad]"I can’t… I’m sorry,"[/color] he whispered. His hand slipped from her thigh to press against the mattress beside her. 

Slowly and reluctantly, he pushed off the bed, regretting everything as he caught a glimpse of her bewildered but beautifully flushed face beneath him. River turned his head away, trying to hide his own frustrated disappointment, before he sat up and moved himself to sit at the foot of the bed. His elbows rested on his bent knees as he buried his face in his hands. [color=86a8ad]"You’re drunk… I can’t…"[/color] He struggled to form proper sentences and make any sense of his thoughts. He wanted nothing more than to climb back on top of her, but the knot in his stomach kept him from moving from where he sat. [color=86a8ad]"It wouldn’t be right… I…"[/color] 
He sighed. It took more strength than possible to restrain himself, but he refused to be the type of man who took advantage of a woman while she was drunk. If Anissa wanted him that badly while sober, then… [i]maybe.[/i] But he didn’t want to be one of her regrets.

She couldn’t move, her body suspended between disbelief and the sting of humiliation. The fire she had leaned into with rare conviction was extinguished the instant he pulled away, leaving her stranded in the ashes of their unfinished moment. Anissa could have weathered straightforward rejection; she was an expert at folding that particular hurt into a neat, small package. But this was different. He [i]had[/i] wanted her. She’d felt the proof in the desperate way he’d kissed her, in the possessive climb of his hand up her thigh as if he were losing a battle with his own control. That truth, brighter and more painful than any refusal, was what made his restraint carve into her so deeply.

He was stopping himself. For her. Because she was intoxicated, and he refused to be the kind of man who took what she couldn't consciously, completely give. 

The realization severed her in two. A warring tide of gratitude and frustration swelled within her: gratitude for his integrity, and a hot, clenching frustration at being treated like a cautionary tale. She had grown up without a father to look out for her, without anyone to indicate which hands were safe. Her mother’s fierce love had been a sanctuary, but even that couldn’t watch every door. Anissa had learned to scan faces for hidden threats, to be the sole architect of her own survival. To need protecting now, from him, felt like being forced back into a role of powerlessness she had worked so hard to escape.

Her fingers grappled the blanket beneath her, nails digging into her palms as if she could pin herself to the present. She didn't want him to see the frightened child she’d once been. She wanted him to notice the woman who had chosen him, who had met his gaze and leaned in without a second thought. And yet here she was, paralyzed by the contradiction of craving his strength and resenting the safety it offered.

Anissa’s pride demanded she look away, to cloak the pain with indifference. But something more primal was taking root. A chill, born not from the air but from some deep, internal well, began to seep under her skin. The solid presence of River had kept it at bay. Now, with him gone, it came rushing back. A cold, heavy, merciless weight. She didn’t understand its origin. She only knew she felt terrifyingly and unbearably alone.

Her voice finally broke the silence, little more than a hushed admission.
[color=5a3e85]"I didn’t want you to stop."[/color]

The words escaped before she could call them back, far more revealing than she would have ever allowed sober. But River was right. She was drunk. And there was no way she could truly blame him for stopping.

River’s hands slid down his face until his palms pressed together over his nose and mouth with a deep, regretful sigh. 
[color=86a8ad]"I didn’t [i]want[/i] to stop,"[/color] he confessed under his breath, unable to bring himself to look back at her. The way his chest tightened and ached with yearning told him that a single glance would destroy every ounce of conviction he clung so desperately to. [color=86a8ad]"I don’t want to be a drunken regret."[/color] His leg started bouncing as all of his anxieties and nerves came crashing back into him like a wave, no longer hidden behind the haze of uninhibited passion. [color=86a8ad]"When—[i]If[/i] we…"[/color] He cleared his throat, struggling to find the words as the truth got stuck in his throat for the first time around her. 

Anissa’s chest squeezed at his unfinished words. The implication, even unspoken, sorted out the disorder in her head more than any outright rejection could have. He wasn’t claiming a lack of desire. He was confessing that he wanted her too much to cheapen the moment. That truth, so utterly [i]River[/i], left her aching with an emotion that felt dangerously like hope. She forced herself upright against the pillows, her gaze hooking on the frantic bounce of his leg, a telltale drum of the war inside him. Her pride told her to let it be, to let him marinate in his principles while she gathered her dignity. But her pride was a feeble thing, and it was useless against the creeping chill.

[color=5a3e85]"… if you can’t right now, then don’t. Just…don’t leave me."[/color] [i]Be the one to hold this coldness at bay. Be the one who doesn't disappear.[/i]

Anissa slid over, the sheets rustling as she made a space for him. 

After another moment of silence, River steeled his resolve before he forced himself to turn to look at her. He noticed the way she had shifted to one side of the bed to make room for him. He should have left, but the way Anissa looked at him like he was two seconds from vanishing into a cloud of smoke made it impossible for him to find the will to stand. [color=86a8ad]"Alright,"[/color] he conceded with a soft sigh as he slowly slid off his shoes and left them on the ground. With one more deep breath for restraint, River lay back on top of the blankets in the space she made for him, letting his head rest against one of the pillows.

The sound of his answer washed through her like a first full breath after breaking the surface. Relief was a treacherous emotion, one she knew could cultivate a craving for the unreachable. Yet she let it settle regardless. The mattress shifted with his weight, his presence a living bulwark against the cold dread seeping into her bones. Anissa turned her face toward him, her gaze tracing the strong line of his jaw and the resolved set of his mouth. She allowed herself a true, releasing exhale, a final surrender of the tension she had been clutching inside.

[color=5a3e85]"Thank you,"[/color] she said, the words almost lost to the hush of the room. Her gratitude was not for the kiss, his restraint, or even his company. It was for this fragile truce, this uncharted territory between his wanting and his will. Her fingers stirred against the blanket, a faint impulse to bridge the space between them, but she resisted. For now, the simple certainty of his presence was sufficient. It had to be. 

She slipped beneath the covers, turning onto her side to face him, her cheek nestling into the pillow. His head rested mere inches from hers, so close the dark arc of his lashes was clearly defined, so near she could sense the subtle catch in his breathing when she shifted closer. Finally, she let her eyes fall shut, choosing to trust that he would remain when dawn arrived, even as a small, stubborn part of her whispered that she of all people should know better.

[b][i]End of collab pt. 2/2[/i][/b][/color][/justify][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]

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