The afternoon sun lay bright upon the rooftops, casting golden stripes along the cobbles of the village. Neri’Va’s feet traced a familiar path from the market square, arms full of simple errands for the temple, but her thoughts wandered elsewhere. It had been days since her last visit to the forest that took an unexpected turn she would never have dared dream of. In fact, sometimes she had wondered if it really happened or if it was just a dream indeed.
But then as night passed and she managed to slip away into the forest she would swiftly find herself in the arms a certain dark skinned elf, hands wandering, lips more often then not touching. Still Denday’s dark came and Rayven had asked Neri’Va to stay within the safety of the village. Reluctantly she had agreed, then errands in the temple kept her busy even while Denday’s new light came.
She passed neighbours with baskets and children darting through the dust, yet beneath the busy hum of daily life, a fretful current ran. Even at this hour, doors seemed to close a little sooner; voices, once open, dropped to whispers as she walked by.
A knot of villagers clustered by the well, voices urgent:
“…said he saw a shadow, eyes like Denday herself, watching from the tree line—”
“—and the Baker’s boy, he swears he heard singing last night, haunting and sad, not a soul in sight—”
“It’s not safe, not with that darkness lingering at the wood’s edge. My cousin’s dog hasn’t stopped barking since Denday’s rise…”
Neri’Va kept her head down, trying to move unnoticed. Fear and rumour crept through every crack. She’d felt it too—the sense of being watched, even beneath Quintra’s gentle gaze. But she knew what truly waited in those woods: a woman with skin deep as night, eyes faintly aglow with blue, whose arms made her feel safer than anywhere else.
Her heart leapt as she turned down a narrow alley. The shadows were cool here, a respite from the watchful sun. She moved quickly, only to feel a strong hand seize her wrist and tug her into the shelter of a doorway.
She gasped, but the hand was familiar—warm, sure, and just a little rough.
“Rayven!” Neri’Va breathed, struggling between shock and delight.
The night dweller grinned, teeth gleaming in the gloom. Her dark blue hair was tucked behind one ear, her deep purple skin almost luminous in the half-light. She wore a cloak and hood for the first time since Neri’Va met her. Probably too hide her complexion. She pressed Neri’Va against the cool stone, her body angled protectively, her blue eyes alight with mischief and longing.
“What are you doing here? It’s dangerous to come here!” Neri’Va whispered, breathless and wide-eyed, glancing down the alley before guiding Rayven just a bit deeper into the alley and further away from prying eyes.
Rayven followed closely. Her lips brushed the pale elf her ear as she answered, voice low and teasing. “I had to see you. It’s been days.”
Neri’Va’s fingers tightened on the Night dwellers arm as she pushed her against the wall in the alley. “You are taking a great risk coming here.”
Rayven’s mouth quirked into a crooked smile. “Are you trying to push me against the wall?”
The novice priestess of Quintra’s cheeks aflame, managed a defiant, “Maybe?”
The purple skinned elf laughed—a soft, rumbling sound—and in one swift move spun them, pinning the high elf gently between herself and the alley wall. Her hands found Neri’Va’s waist, strong and sure.
“Much better,” Rayven murmured, and her lips claimed Neri’Va’s in a kiss that left the high elf dizzy and yearning. Time seemed to slow; the world shrank to the taste of Rayven’s mouth, the sensation of her large hands at Neri’Va’s hips, the wild thud of her own heart.
When they broke apart, Rayven’s expression had softened. “It’s already worth it.”
Neri’Va steadied herself, the back of her head pressed to the sun-warmed stone. “It’s too dangerous for you to go back anytime soon. You’ll have to stay until it’s dark at least.”
“Do I now?” Rayven’s eyes danced as she ran her gaze up and down Neri’Va’s form. “How horrible for me.”
Neri’Va tried to glare, but her lips twitched; Rayven’s bravado always found a way to break her composure.
“We have to be careful,” Neri’Va insisted, glancing nervously toward the mouth of the alley. “If anyone sees—”
“Let them see,” Rayven said, low and fierce, but she relented at Neri’Va’s anxious glance. “Fine, fine, little priestess. Lead the way.”
Neri’Va hesitated only a moment, then tugged Rayven deeper into the maze of alleys, away from the main street. They slunk past shuttered windows, ducked beneath drying laundry, and squeezed through the side gate behind the temple. Her heart hammered—part fear, part exhilaration.
In the walled garden behind the temple, Neri’Va glanced up at the looming stone structure. She scanned the windows; the coast was clear. “Follow me,” the pale skinned elf whispered, motioning the Night dweller toward a narrow path between the herb beds and the outer wall.
The Night dweller followed close, steps silent for such a large woman. “How many rules are you breaking for me today, Neri’Va?”
“Too many,” she replied, unable to hide her smile. “This way.”
They skirted the edge of the garden. Neri’Va pointed to the wall beneath her own chamber’s window. “If you can climb…”
Rayven looked up, grinned, and in a fluid motion hauled herself onto the low garden wall, then up onto a rain barrel. She reached for a loose stone, then—muscles rippling—heaved herself up, catching the window ledge with both hands.
Neri’Va quickly ran around the temple and darted inside. Swift as she could without trying to look suspicious she made her way to her small chamber and, with trembling fingers, unlatched the casement. Rayven swung her legs over and slid in, landing lightly beside her.
For a long moment they just stood there, faces close, both a little breathless from the rush. Neri’Va’s small chamber felt suddenly close, the air charged with excitement.
Rayven took in the tidy cot, the shelves of neatly stacked scrolls, and the pale afternoon light spilling through the single high window. “So this is your world,” she murmured.
“It’s not much,” Neri’Va replied, self-conscious, smoothing her skirt. “But it’s mine, pillows and all...” She faintly gestures to a single pillow on her bed.
Rayven touched her arm gently. “I like it. Especially when you’re here.”
They sat together on the cot, close enough to share the pillow. The temple bells tolled the hour, muffled by the thick walls. Neri’Va leaned into Rayven, laying her head on the night dweller’s shoulder. Rayven wrapped an arm around her, letting her thumb drift across Neri’Va’s wrist.
For a while, they spoke in low voices—of silly things, memories, even fears. The outside world, with its anxious gossip and sharpening suspicion, felt far away. The gentle buzz of bees in the garden below and the distant clatter of dishes in the temple kitchen mixed with their quiet laughter. Neri’Va asked Rayven what the forest was like at night; Rayven described the chorus of frogs, the shimmer of fireflies, the way the trees seemed to murmur secrets only she could hear.
As the sun began to slip toward the horizon, Neri’Va suddenly rose. “I... Evening prayers...” She blushed and looked at the dark skinned elf a bit uncertain.
“Go,” Rayven said with a soft smile: “I’ll wait for you here.”
The bells sounded again and Neri’Va gave Rayven an apologetic little smile before she hurried out the room. In the corridor, her heart still raced with the memory of Rayven’s hands, her kisses, her presence filling that tiny chamber with warmth and longing. Even as she recited the familiar prayers in the great hall, Neri’Va’s thoughts drifted back to the bed, to the woman waiting for her—her secret, her joy.
When she came back after the evening prayers, the night dweller hadn’t moved from the bed. She simply looked up and patted the empty space beside her. Yet when Neri’Va approached she held out her hands for Rayven to grab, pulling the dark purple skinned elf to her feet. “I want to show you something.”
She led Rayven up the narrow servants’ stair, each step creaking as if sharing in their secret. They emerged onto the temple rooftop, high above the bustle of the village. From here, the rooftops stretched like a patchwork quilt, and the distant line of the woods was blue with shadow.
The sky above blazed in shades of indigo and violet, the first silver gleam of Denday’s growing sickle rising on the horizon. The wind was cool, sweeping stray strands of Neri’Va’s platinum hair across her face.
Rayven stepped close, sliding her arms around Neri’Va’s waist from behind. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured. “But not as beautiful as you.”
Neri’Va blushed, laughter trembling in her voice. “You always say that.”
Rayven kissed her gently behind the ear. “Because it’s true.”
They stood for a moment, watching the blue moon climb. Neri’Va relaxed into Rayven’s embrace, feeling the heat and strength of her. The world below was lost in half-light; up here, everything seemed possible.
Rayven turned her, cupping her cheeks, and kissed her—soft at first, then deeper, more urgent. Neri’Va clung to her, caught between longing and nervousness. Rayven’s hands were sure, gentle, and exploratory.
The kisses grew fiercer, the heat between them undeniable. Rayven’s lips traced the line of Neri’Va’s jaw, her throat, and down to her collarbone. Neri’Va shivered, a gasp caught in her throat.
Rayven’s breath was hot against her ear. “I want to see you in Denday’s light,” she whispered, fingertips tracing the edge of Neri’Va’s neckline. “All of you.”
Neri’Va blushed furiously, but didn’t move away. “Rayven…”
The night dweller smiled, gaze dark with desire but voice gentle. “You’re safe with me.” She kissed Neri’Va again, stealing her breath, her confidence washing away any doubt.
They lingered on the rooftop, hands wandering, clothing shifting—until Neri’Va, suddenly bold, pulled Rayven close. “Let’s… let’s go inside. Before anyone sees.”
Rayven’s smirk was all hunger and delight. Without warning, she swept Neri’Va up in her arms—effortless, strong. The high elf squeaked in surprise, laughing into Rayven’s shoulder as she was carried down the stair, back into her tiny room.
Once inside, the door latched, Rayven set her gently on her feet, but their lips never parted for long. Kisses deepened, hands roaming over fabric, hungry and reverent. Rayven pressed Neri’Va back against the cot, her hands slipping beneath the novice’s robes.
Neri’Va’s fingers trembled as she untied the Night dwellers cloak, letting it fall to the floor. “We… we can’t make a lot of noise,” she whispered, breathless, her heart pounding.
Rayven only grinned, unbothered, and leaned in close. “Then you’ll have to try very, very hard,” she teased, her voice a low purr.
With careful strength, Rayven lifted Neri’Va up again and gently carried her to the bed. Their lips met in a heated promise, clothes slipping away, the silver glow of Denday’s moon flooding the small room.
Desire tangled with laughter and love, hands finding skin, hearts racing, the intention between them utterly clear. As Rayven laid Neri’Va back onto the bed, the world narrowed to the touch of her hands, the murmur of her voice, the promise in her eyes.
And then—
Moonlight on bare skin, lips and whispers, the hush of breath and heartbeat—
The rest was lost to darkness and dreaming, as the night enfolded them at last.