thisavrou_log | Take it slow [CLOSED]

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Take it slow [CLOSED]

Who: Katsa and Po
When: Today
Where: Kauto
What: Po's arrived
Warnings: n/a - will change if required. Amendments to make game compliant from here.

[There are a myriad of emotions going through him although he does still keep that calmness upon him. His grandfather's kidnapping is one thing, but if half of what he suspects is happening with Leck, then it is hardly surprising that his concern turns that way. Yet Katsa is Katsa, and even that is the same here, although he is not surprised by that fact. His own expression is patient, and he turns her hand to lay a small kiss at her wrist, sensing the discomfort from her, letting his wildcat settle there against him. His own arms drop to lightly encircle her, although Po has no illusions that if push comes to shove, he is more apt to be the damsel in distress.

It doesn't stop his stillness though. Ashen, poor Ashen... And Bitterblue, parentless, it seems. His chin rests upon her head, taking time to ponder that information through. He would have traded his sight to keep Ashen alive, if it had been an option. Yet no matter the outcome, Po knows that it wouldn't have been from lack of trying that events occurred as they had. He'd seen that in Katsa from the beginning, when she had rescued his grandfather for no reason than the fact that she didn't think that he had deserved it. Yet that breath was let out as he hugged her.]

Leck is dead, and Bitterblue is safe. For that, I will be thankful.

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[ She closes her eyes and presses her face against the curve of his neck, letting herself exist simply in the warmth and scent of him. It's as indulgent as it is comforting, and Katsa finds herself forgetting all worries: of Po's future, of their future, of this strange place in which they've found themselves. For now they're safe and together; and existing in the present is all anyone can really do. ]

Yes. [ She agrees in a murmur and presses a kiss against his neck, lips brushing his skin as she speaks. ] That's all true. And now we've another search for truth, in whatever is behind this mad place we've found ourselves.

[ And—oh, she has so many stories to tell him. Katsa's voice turns into a grumble against his neck. ]

I've some heads to knock for this, I imagine.

[His eyes do close, and for a moment he does let that linger. Blind. It isn't as bad, he supposes, as it might otherwise be. His Grace will help with that, although he can consent that there are some things that he will miss, like her eyes, blue and green, turning upon him.

But there is little reason to dwell on that now. If it comes, it comes. Here and now is what Po will choose to focus on instead. These foreign planets and the strangeness of it all. The odd sensations that touch his mind, completely unknown to him, dizzying and distracting at the same time.

Yet she is an anchor.

There is that easy laugh though that comes with her words, light and joyous despite it all, for it is so Katsa, so physical. A hand squeezes as her side, feeling her breath, warm across his neck, and he does bask in that sensation. She is distracting, but not in a bad way. Never in a bad way. His own voice is a low rumble from his chest.]

So long as it's not mine, my Lady, knock away, for I have enough bruises from our own fights that I do not require more.

[ Katsa can't help her grin, try though as she does to hide it. ]

Poor Po—I've forgotten your fragility.

[ She lifts her head, shifts just enough so that her face isn't buried in his neck but little enough that she doesn't move from his embrace. How long had it been since they last fought, she wonders? It must have been a few weeks for her, separated from him in their own travels; and surely she'd have picked up some new tricks that he has yet to see.

Too long, she decides; but that would make it all the more satisfying to fight him again soon. And they'd have new drills to try. Blindfolds for both of them, and she's yet to try a fight with her hands bound behind her back. ]

You ought to try not being bruised. Or perhaps I'll take care to mind them for you, and confine you to all the cushions and sheets of a bed where you'll be safe from knocking.

[There will always be joy there, in fighting someone on a more even ground than he had been able to do with his brothers- all of them. That has not changes since their first fight there in the yard, and Po knows beyond a doubt that it will never change in the future. It is exhilarating and refreshing, and there is something that eases at finding her here in this completely strange world.]

I shall wear each bruise as a badge of honour, and chronicle their tales for future generations to read. Herein lays the bruise upon poor Po's arm, wherein Katsa twisted it mercilessly while knocking the wind out of his chest with her other fist.

[That gold eye does glimmer as it catches hers and there is that wickedly gleaming grin that flashes the whites of his teeth. Being pummeled by her is nothing new, yet they have grown through the process, learning together as they went. Therein is part of the appeal.

Yet he snorts, hold tightening ever so as he rocked her, caring not the least at the spectacle that they might make. And cheeky, or so cheeky.]

I can offer far more pleasant pursuits to partake in between the sheets.

[ She rolls her eyes and snorts a laugh at his talk of bruises, but fondly so. Yes, you're certainly helpless to fight back against me, Katsa thinks drily. The furthest thing from the truth—Po remains still the most thrilling opponent she's ever faced. And one could hardly be so pleased to be bruised by me.

But she laughs aloud now, a pleased and wicked laugh at his suggestion, and lifts a hand to his face to pull his back to hers. ]

Getting some sleep after a day of icing your honorable bruises?

[ Though of course she knows exactly what he's implying, and she allows him to know that, too. Katsa kisses his upper lip and traces her fingers lightly down his cheek, along his jaw. Moves her attention to his lower lip and curls that hand around his neck instead, to keep him closer. And then she moves abruptly. Katsa pushes Po back so that she's straddling him, her knees on either side of his hips, and now holds his face in both her hands as she kisses him instead.

(She really doesn't care about making a spectacle at all. It's been some time since she's seen him—it doesn't matter who knows it.)

That seems the most logical. ]

[His expression only deepens, clear amusement all but humming through him. It lights his eyes and draws his lips up in to the biggest of smiles. His laugh is clear and bright as her words echo through his mind.]

I think you forget how your eyes ensnare me.

[While he certainly shall not be jumping in to any ponds to try to wrestle a goose bare handed, he does do rather well against her. So long as she has day on her side, he will always be on the defensive, yet those night time fights...

Yet it is his own exaggerated groan, knowing full well that she is teasing him back.]

Your definition of pleasant certainly does not run with mine.

[Although he is aware of her, acutely aware, of every breath, of every motion, of every touch. Vibrant and alive, she seems to thrive in any situation, and he knows that whatever it is that she puts her mind to, it will be done.

Yet there is that moment where he is ensnared, and while there is that spike of energy within her, it does take a second for him to meet up with her speed. There is no complaint from him as he gives a soft oof when his back meets the ground. Just the opposite, as that lazy grin lingers before she's leaning forward.

His fingers settle at her side, tightening lightly upon her hips as he pulled her close. Oh, but that silent laughter rumbles through his chest as a hand draws up along her spine while the other drops slightly lower. That he deepens the kiss, tasting, seeking, should come as no surprise, as this woman who came charging in to his life is the one he loves.]

[ Stop it.

She admonishes him through her kisses for his compliments to her eyes, but there's no hiding her smile against his lips nor the pleased warmth at hearing it. She'd told Tealiff once that she'd gladly do without her Graceling eyes, but Po makes a liar out of her. He says such ridiculous things, but she'd keep her eyes to hear him say them anyway—and that is a symptom of her own inanity. For it is inane for her to think at all about appearance and compliments in any way, but for as long as Po can see her now she wishes for him to have his fill of beautiful sights.

Why that would include her eyes she can't quite fathom (nothing to the curious dancing lights of his own); he teases, or perhaps he's simply never seen what it is to look into eyes quite like his. Whether he knows of these thoughts she isn't sure, but Katsa makes no effort to worry over it. ]

It rarely seems to do so. [ She's just holding back her laughter. ] You complain plenty. Enlighten me, then, to your wondrous ideas.

[ And there are the shivers at his hand along her spine, and the deeper kisses, and oh, she's missed him. She doesn't know how long they'll remain here together: there's a slight pang of fear, suddenly, that she'll wake tomorrow and find him gone. They're all too familiar with separation, but Katsa prefers it when they make the choice. Not some magical invisible kidnapper. ]

[If anything, telling Po to stop will have just the opposite reaction, and the look that crosses his face seems to say just that. He'd serenade her eyes until he was out of breath, but even he has the peace of mind to realize he would do so poorly, and she'd likely toss something greater than a fish in his general direction. Not that it would stop him. Had she been born within his kingdom, her life would have undoubtedly been different, but his wildcat is as she is, and he wouldn't change a hair on her head.

There is a snort from him as his eyes narrow slightly, although the laughter is still there, that unbridled joy, that despite everything, she is fine. There are things that they should discuss, but for now, Po has no qualms about losing himself against her lips.]

I've reason enough to complain. Poor Po the punching bag.

[Not that there is one speck of sincerity in the way that he seems to change his voice, lamenting that fact. Every day and every night, he would happily be so. Yet, there is that hum in his throat as his lips move, his body leaning forward ever so to give him the leverage to press kisses against her neck, nuzzling.]

Less talk, for starters.

[Yet his grip on her does tighten, fingers splaying against her back, as her emotions flare. And as it to make that point, his mouth is back to hers, as he kisses her, slow and drawn out, as if to press those thoughts that have rolled into her mind away. No matter what transpired, he would love her.]

[ Plenty to discuss, certainly—but forgotten, or at least discarded, for the moment. Katsa breathes in and holds that breath, her eyes fluttering halfway open as her kisses turn into touches, caresses, as her nose bumps his cheek and she runs her lips across the curves of his beautiful face.

How strange it is to see him differently yet again, but Po all the same. Strange, but not the bad sort of strange; only something amazing to know that how he sees the world is new again, at least from her perspective, and how anything could have that sort of power. ]

Poor Po. [ Katsa agrees in a breathless laugh so low it could be a whisper. Yet you continue to subject yourself to me anyway.

He leans forward, and she falls back, allowing it. Not rising, nor moving off him; just enough that she slips halfway to the ground, weight resting now on the hard ground below as she tilts her head back. The attention his mouth gives her neck has always been enough to distract her from talking, from even thinking—both of which she tries to do now, with some trouble. One of Katsa's knees is jammed awkwardly between his legs, and she brushes the skin peeking just above his waistline beneath his shirt, traces a hand across his stomach.

Dimly, she has just enough of a mind—a thought half-formed—to wonder if they ought to be outside still, or if their conversation might be better served beneath a roof.

And am I to kiss your bruises, too? she manages to pierce through the haze of distraction as his mouth finds hers again. if you've been so mercilessly treated. ]

[Poor Po. It may well be a mantra of Katsa, yet if she thinks that he will ever tire of hearing it, she is wrong. There are a number of reasons for that, ranging from the fact that he did like it when she let her shields down that little bit to banter right back at him. Her Grace can make her a fearsome opponent, but it does not make her so. She is a whirlwind, a force of nature, one that had come storming through his life, but it makes him feel alive in a way that he never has.

That there is silent laughter that remains is nothing new with him. The way that he kisses her answers that statement of hers with no words. He would subject himself to it every day, humbled perhaps at times, but never broken. That his arms drop, to link around her waist, pulling her ever so back towards him should be expected. He's never been put off by her, and rather just the opposite. She is a truly remarkable woman.

To say that she keeps him on his toes is an understatement, and an incorrect statement as well. She often knocks him off his toes. Even if he can sense the way she moves, how she shifts, it does not detract from the actions, and there is a stillness as her fingers skim against his skin. His abdomen tightens, muscles taunt as the warmth of her hand is noted.]

I quite like the sound of that.

[That rumble in his chest. It is easy to get drunk on her, for she is a potent wine, yet as much of his focus that she has, there is that part that is aware. It is why that light noise is made as he cleared his throat, pulling back ever so although his hands have not moved from around her as they stroke lightly.]

I'm uncertain whether or not I desire to point out the obvious though.

[ There's disappointment when Po pulls away. Natural disappointment, though Katsa supposes one of them was bound to o it soon enough; and she looks around them as though there's someone nearby to be the reason for the interruption, an intruder upon their moment that they've chosen to have out in the open. There's no one there, of course. Katsa simmers in the disappointment with nowhere to direct it.

She drops away from his lips and rests her forehead on Po's shoulder. ]

Didn't you say there ought to be less talking? [ It's almost a grumble. ] I notice you're talking.

[ They ought to move, and she knows it, but that doesn't mean Katsa was quite ready to be done kissing. ]

[Of course she would turn his words back around on him, and she can likely feel the way his chest shakes with laughter that he does manage to hold in, at least for a few moments. Yet after those few moments, it does vocalize, and he slides his hand up her back, teasingly.]

As are you.

[Pointed out with a rueful hint to his voice. There is something with him that would like to be greedy, to lose himself with her, and yet he is content that she is there. His grip tightens although he tilts his head to kiss her forehead, before his lips quirk.]

Moreso than I, even.

[ Katsa sighs to hide the fact that she has to bite her lower lip to hold back a smile. Of course Po will know she's doing it anyway, but that's besides the point. ]

Yes. Well. You get to cheat when it comes to other things, like reading my mind. You'll not suffer too much if I'm the one who cheats for once instead.

[ And what were they even talking about, again? (Or not talking, as the case may be.) Katsa sits still a little longer, enjoying the warm trail of Po's hand up her back, the laughter in his chest. Coming back together, falling into a rhythm—with him it's all easy, so easy. And Katsa is content.

But they must move, and she leave her place of contentment, here on this alien rock. Katsa touches his upper arm and then sighs, reluctantly extracting herself from Po's hold. She stands and dusts herself off before offering him a hand. ]

Let me show you around, then, Lord Prince; though I know little of where we are, myself. Perhaps we'll come across a place you might finish telling me all your suggestions, as much as you can do with less talking.

[There is a mildly indignant snort, although Po has nothing to say beyond that. After all, Katsa can knock him down to the ground both physically and mentally, although hopefully if she ever goes full force at his mind again, he will not be riding a horse. Control and restraint had come quite quickly for her, and for that he had been happy, to let her poke and prod and learn just how to let him know what she wanted to let him know. Po would admit, quite freely and humbly, that when it came to Katsa in turn, he has always somehow been keenly attuned to her.

Yet the lazy hand does finally slip away as she does, although Po knows that she will not be going far. She had run once, so to speak, and he knows that there are times when she needs her space, but he gets nothing of that from her here and now. The softness of his smile remains from the light touch on his arm, and when her own hand is offered, it grows.

For half a moment it seems that he may well tug her back down, but in the end he simply accepts it, even if he does not require it, and rises in turn. That there is a teasing courtly bow at her words should be expected, although he does manage to keep slightly out of her path, and any reaction that she might give to him.]

I am at the lady's beck and call. Although I would suggest not jumping in to any ponds to tackle alien wildlife.

[ It's well enough that he doesn't tug her down after all, for Katsa would have been unable to resist the challenge, and their rock-rolling would have started all over again. The most she does instead is swing at him for his bow, playfully, though she doesn't let go of his hand with her other one either. ]

I won't make any promises.

[ ...And she knows that Po is joking, but in all fairness, Katsa does wonder what it's like to hunt the wildlife and how similar it is to normal game. Perhaps it would be fast enough to dodge an arrow, or big enough for one not to matter. Perhaps it would be rude not to greet someone by starting such an activity.

Perhaps she could throw a knife, she thinks, just to start. Just to see what happens. ]

I've had no advice on the wildlife here, but it'd be better to learn on my own anyway. Or is that something you've learned you ought not to do through other methods?

[ That being mind-reading. Katsa's brand of humor and usual deadpan melds easily enough ]

[He does turn at what may well be the last possible moment, grinning child a gleeful child, although there is a little bit of dramatic flair in it all. His Grace, after all, works as well here as it had back home. Yet he does give a squeeze on her hand, tugging her up against him.

He does manage to put on that slightly affronted expression, although it is quite clear it isn't genuine in the least. Yet as he regards her, that smile starts to slip back in to his face. His other methods do offer him some insight, although everything is completely foreign and strange. Overwhelming, moreso than before.]

I've learned that when you've set your mind to something, there is no stopping you.

You make it sound so simple.

[ It isn't an argument. Katsa only smiles, looking up into his face. Again she's hit with that odd reminder that he can see her, the strength and focus of his gaze different than what she's learned to expect. She'll have to adjust all over again, which is a strange thing. ]

It may be easier to stop me than you think. [ And there a hesitation, the suppression of memory—a shiver she can't quite hold back. Katsa shoves the memories away, shoves them far before they rise up again, frustration high with her own inability to move on. ]

[When it comes to people who are strong, Po would place Katsa in that category. It isn't just her physical strength that makes him think that, but far more. He's been around her enough to see her various sides, those that she does shy from, and yet those that also go to the defence of others who might not be able to defend themselves.]

Slow you down, perhaps.

[That cocky little arch of his left eyebrow, yet he does lean forward, a light kiss planted on her forehead as he feels that quiver through her, believing that it's originals are not of a pleasant nature. There are things that Po will never attempt to do in blocking her, but there are times that he also knows that she needs those reminders. Of course he doubts that she shall ever try to fight in anger again with him, as their blows are not for that.]

Come. Let's see what you've been up to, wildcat, and what this strange realm has to offer.

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Take it slow [CLOSED]

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