Hands On

Embrace

Azriel knocks at Gwyn's door precisely at seven. "Good evening, Shadowsinger." Her teal eyes sparkle upon seeing his face. He takes a moment to drink her in. If the rustling from behind her is any indication, Nesta and Emerie helped her prepare for the evening. Her normally pin-straight loose copper-brown locks are half in in braids with the remaining stands falling in gentle curls. She is dressed in a simple hunter green gown. She looks different but still wholly like the Gwyn he knows. Most likely because while the dressing and trappings are new, her face, eyes, and expression are completely familiar.

He takes her hand and presses it to his lips. "You look ravishing." Her cheeks blush slightly and she squeezes his hand in silent acknowledgement. "Shall we?" He slides her hand to his elbow and escorts her to the veranda as elegantly as any courtier.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see." Azriel wants her to be surprised. He flies them to the edge of the wards and then winnows to a square in Velaris.

Gwyn eagerly looks around, trying to determine their destination "A tavern?" He can tell that she was expecting a different destination. She probably had visions of an intimate candle-lit table for two in a quiet bistro.

"Trust me," he assures her. Placing a hand on the small of her back, he leads her to the door. Once inside they find an open booth tucked into the corner. To her surprise, Azriel slides onto the same bench seat as her. His thigh rests along hers. It might not be a tiny table, but the seating can still be intimate. "The food here is very good. I'm happy to order for us if you would like."

The bar maid, a pretty fae female with blonde ringlets, approaches their table to take their order. "I would like the meat pie and a mug of ale, please." Gwyn orders first.

"The same for me." Azriel offers a smile before their server leaves.

"Are you going to tell me why you picked this tavern for our date Shadowsinger?" Gwyn asks. "Although I'm sure the food is as good as you promise, this was not what I pictured when you asked me on a date." Gwyn had been imagining how this evening might proceeded for the entire day. In the library, she had accidently mis-shelved a few books when she was too busy day dreaming. Would he bring flowers? Would they drink wine? Would they dance? Would they get lost in each other's eyes, letting the rest of the world fall away?

Azriel lays a hand on her knee. "That's why," he says as he inclines his head to a small stage by the bar. A small musical troupe is setting up their instruments.

Gwyn's face lights up; all traces of skepticism vanish. She reaches down to lace her fingers with his. "Music," she breathes. "Thank you." Gwyn kisses his cheek.

By the time the bar maid returns with their ale, the troupe has started tuning their instruments. As they wait, Gwyn can feel her obsession with Azriel's hands returning in full force. Under the table, his fingers trace circles on the back of her hand, until she flips the position of their hands and begins mapping the fractured pattern of his scars. Gwyn takes the time, and care, to follow everyone from its beginning to its end. As her fingers cross a particularly jagged juncture, Azriel stifles a shudder.

"Do your hands pain you?" Concern laces her voice.

"Sometimes," he admits, dropping his voice so it is for her ears only. The tavern is loud, but he does not want to risk being overheard. "My hands get stiff at times. Occasionally I find it difficult to perform delicate tasks." Noticing her frown, Azriel quickly adds, "It's not terrible, truly. I've had centuries to learn how to work around them."

Gwyn fingers become firmer on his hand now. No longer mapping the outline of his scars, but searching the structure of his hand below. When she finds a swollen knot, she presses down experimentally. Azriel hisses out a breath, his hand tensing, but then he relaxes. Gwyn continues massaging his hand as the stiffness melts away under her touch. "No one has ever done this for me before."