Camping with Clay.
Caragh's packed. She's only brought clothes for a few days, and pajamas, of course. And a case of water bottles that she got from the store. That's all Clay told her to worry about for the trip, water and warm clothes
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But he knows a shortcut. If you don't think too hard about it, it seems to work. You take the bus to what they claim is a forest, right outside the city limits, and then you walk inside. Maybe something shifts, maybe that forest just is a proper Forest, all that matters is, that when you've hiked for a couple of hours there is no sound of traffic, and everything smells the way it should ( ... )
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"Nervous," she finally admits after awhile, laughing softly at herself and looking down at her hands with a grin. "Just a little, but... nervous, you know? Excited. But nervous. Silly, yeah?"
Then she looks up, smiles. "Glad I'm not alone."
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It's not silly. The Forest - you have to respect it. It's not a bad place, but you need the respect. If you want it to let you in properly. And then he takes her hand and gives it a squeeze cause that is what you do. When somebody's nervous. It'll like you, I think.
Caragh listens. The Forest likes that. And even if this is just a forest he is certain that they'll be able to make their way into its heart. And in there - there will be no difference.
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"Read about wild places," she says. "Dreamed about them. Rain and snow, those were strange enough." She laughs a little. "And the sun in a blue sky. The parks and gardens in Tranquility, they were mostly in the houses of the rich, on their property. Not many public. Some trees. Fountains. But not much. Just pictures. Out, though, outside the city, when you'd go to the mines... that's a little what wild places feel like, I always thought. It's huge and empty and beautiful and it will kill you if you're not careful."
Wild places are beautiful, and huge, and dangerous. She understands that, that it's what draws people to them. But it's only an understanding of the intellect, the brain, it's not something that she grasps very much in her heart.
ooc: apologies, arthritis flared up in my hands and typing was... kind of an ordeal for a ( ... )
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His hand is still resting on the shoulder and it slowly moves into her hair. He just wants to touch it, feel if it is as soft as it looks. As sleek.
He tilts his head a little, moving his lips against hers. Trying to hold his breath. Still time.
The Forest is watching them. Neutrally. The Forest doesn't judge, it is eternal. Only small lives judge. Short lives.
He breaks the kiss, gently, and rests his forehead against hers. His eyes still closed.
He can feel the hammering of his heart in his lips, right below the taste of her mouth.
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It is very quiet, and yet it isn't, in a way, with the little creatures and the wind and the crackling of the fire and the hushing of their clothing when they move and their breathing and her own heartbeat. In some ways, it's not quiet at all.
Again, she wonders briefly if she ought to apologize, but she doesn't think so, exactly. "I don't want to upset you," she says softly. "Tell me if I ever do, okay? I know you can, even if it's not in words. Sometimes I'm better at reading people than others." She opens her eyes and laughs, softly, warmly, squeezing one of his hands.
It didn't feel like the wrong thing to do, kissing him. It still doesn't.
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She didn't hurt him. It hurts, yes, but that is not her doing.
He takes one hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear, letting his eyes rest on her face.
The Forest is alive all around them and he feels calm. At ease.
His finger trails down her cheek.
They should sleep. You cannot sleep past daybreak in the forest. There's too much light.
You won't upset me. He turns his head to rest his lips against her temple. An almost innocent caress. You're not upsetting me.
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