Faris guts her opponent, then spins to catch him as he falls at her back, the rough handling tearing a strangled sound from his throat. By the time she straightens to heft him over her shoulder, the world has mercifully faded to dim shadow.
The pain ripples through his body. Butz is vaguely aware that they’re on the cave floor, vaguely aware the Faris is angry, or at least that she has already called him every epithet in the book, and then some. Vaguely aware that her arms are wrapped around his shoulders as raw magic courses through him, and very, very aware of that same excruciating magic shooting down every nerve.
Choking down a mouthful of his own blood, Butz tastes fresh air. He opens his eyes to bright, warm daylight streaming through the cavern, and has to squint to focus on the capricious pirate hunched over him. He licks at the dried cut in lips, and his eyebrows arc, quizzical.
“...y’love me...”
Faris snickers – a haggard, wheezing sound. Magery was not her strength, and she had too swiftly poured herself thin.
“How would ye know?” she asks, voice stronger than her laugh. Her arms tighten around his shoulders, and she rocks them both gently, not unlike the sea. “Ye have naught but wind ‘twixt yer ears.”
“Heard you.” His eyes drift closed again. A chuckle bubbles up from within his chest, mingling with a dry, rasping cough. “Said y’love me.”
“Y’be daft,” she scoffs. Her chin comes to rest against his shoulder. “Ye’re dyin’.” She nuzzles against his throat, mouth meeting his yet unsteady pulse. “Ye’re hearin’ things.”
“Fffh-” His first attempt at her name comes out as a hiss of air against his teeth, and he has to catch his breath before he can try again. “Faris?”
There’s a breath of air against his neck, warm and weary. “Aye, lad?”
A thin smile graces his lips as he blinks at the wavering summer sunlight on the cave ceiling, reflected from a deep wellspring. He reaches to pat her shoulder, and his hand comes to rest comfortably between her shoulders.
[BlitzKiss!] Tactical Retreat, FFV, Fariz/Butz, PG-13
The pain ripples through his body. Butz is vaguely aware that they’re on the cave floor, vaguely aware the Faris is angry, or at least that she has already called him every epithet in the book, and then some. Vaguely aware that her arms are wrapped around his shoulders as raw magic courses through him, and very, very aware of that same excruciating magic shooting down every nerve.
Choking down a mouthful of his own blood, Butz tastes fresh air. He opens his eyes to bright, warm daylight streaming through the cavern, and has to squint to focus on the capricious pirate hunched over him. He licks at the dried cut in lips, and his eyebrows arc, quizzical.
“...y’love me...”
Faris snickers – a haggard, wheezing sound. Magery was not her strength, and she had too swiftly poured herself thin.
“How would ye know?” she asks, voice stronger than her laugh. Her arms tighten around his shoulders, and she rocks them both gently, not unlike the sea. “Ye have naught but wind ‘twixt yer ears.”
“Heard you.” His eyes drift closed again. A chuckle bubbles up from within his chest, mingling with a dry, rasping cough. “Said y’love me.”
“Y’be daft,” she scoffs. Her chin comes to rest against his shoulder. “Ye’re dyin’.” She nuzzles against his throat, mouth meeting his yet unsteady pulse. “Ye’re hearin’ things.”
“Fffh-” His first attempt at her name comes out as a hiss of air against his teeth, and he has to catch his breath before he can try again. “Faris?”
There’s a breath of air against his neck, warm and weary. “Aye, lad?”
A thin smile graces his lips as he blinks at the wavering summer sunlight on the cave ceiling, reflected from a deep wellspring. He reaches to pat her shoulder, and his hand comes to rest comfortably between her shoulders.
“Love you, too.”