"Everything is connected by the Word," she added softly. "..at least you're attractive?" Her reply was awkward, unsure of how to really respond to his comment. She lowered her hand again and continued to watch him with questioning sky blue eyes. "Unless you are uncertain of my true appearance?"
"No." Louvel shook his head, hands settled on the helmet, which was settled on the pommel, which kept her encircled, more or less trapped atop the horse in front of him. "I'm not uncertain of your appearance, I was making a joke. Are you going to break the spell? Or, do you gain something by teasing me with it?"
"I didn't realize that templars had a sense of humor," Sintija replied, shaking her head. "By teasing you with it? What do you mean?"
Canting his head ruefully, as though he might regret saying it, and knew it, he spoke. "You nearly got me killed. Almost ten years ago, you were jumping on tree branches shirtless with a bow. You made me feel like an idiot. Then after I was ordained, you dropped me down a hole, kissed me, brought me back to life, and have plagued me with the view of you, and only you, in nearly every dream that I have had for years. Now you are sitting on my horse half naked again telling me we are hooked by some sort of spell. The only thing that apparently separates you from the doxies sold on tales of moonlight battles and knightly adventure is magic and pointed ears. Well?"
"Doxies?" Sintija seemed to consider what Markos said. "Has it been 10 years?" This number perplexed her, time passed slowly to the tatya hini so it would make sense that it would be more important to a human.
"Yes."
"I don't know how to sever the thread tied between us by the Word," she said finally. "Resonation is rare. I have to explore possibilities to break the ties that don't involve our deaths... unless there is something in your doxies on moonlit battles?" Sintija drew up between his arms.
"Do you want me to kiss you?" he asked, dubious.
"Isn't that how you humans break 'evil' spells in your stories, with a kiss?" She countered. "You never answered my question. Now that I am really here, whatever will you do with me, half-naked and on your horse? Do you want to kiss me?"
He sighed, seeming for a while a little older, or a little wearier, than memory would suggest. She had met him when he was a much younger man, and the second time, when he had grown and just begun to take on his grim work, and now here he was again - and the sigh held everything. The scars. The tired lines in his weatherworn face.
"You never change, do you. What if I do want to?"
"I don't think I could fade away if you tried," she shyly replied. He had her trapped on the horse and surrounded by Maraium and he still didn't trust her, she could see that plainly written on his face. "How do your dreams go?" She remembered the impossible moment from the festival- the weight, the heat, the sound of his ragged breathing, the look in his eyes and the feel of his breath mingling with hers. The loss of that dream had filled her with a rush of mixed emotions. Sintija didn't know why she was there, she had simply followed the flow of the tide that Laima presented her. "Do I disappear if you touch me?"
His arms tightened. For a moment, it felt as though he might squeeze her, but she realized it was because he was unbuckling his gauntlet in front of her. She had moved side-saddle, the conversation having almost required it, so when he reached up to touch her cheek, the gentle curve of her jawline where it met her slender neck, it didn't seem too far to go.
Markos's hand felt cold, as cold as the ice outside despite the heavy fur and leather lining his gauntlet. Despite the strength in his hand, it trembled slightly.
She could feel a tightness, and realized it wasn't quite physical. She could read it in his expression, too, as she had watched the lonely and solitary man in the glimpses that she had received of him often enough to recognize it. She could feel his pain, and knew that she would be the cause of it.
"I'm here now," she placed her hand over his to warm it.
"I do want you too." She felt the tension in the air between them and the pulse of his heartbeat. Though suppressed, the Word flowed around them, nothing could truly stop it from connecting life together. She was tied to this man and she did not regret it, only the pain he felt. "Is this what heartache feels like?" She whispered meeting his gaze.
"I think so." He discarded his other gauntlet, placed both his hands upon her, as though cradling her head. Some of the mistrust had melted out of his voice and his manner. "You're very warm. Some sort of spell?"
"No. The connection to the Word makes me warmer and immune to the cold, in a sense," her pulse quickened as she became suddenly unsure of herself. "We can overheat.. it's why we dress this way.. It seems like you're freezing..." the thought continued in her mind though she didn't vocalize it, Let me warm you. Her cheeks flushed a gentle shade of pink.
"I am." He couldn't read her thoughts, just the color that she turned, and he smiled. It seemed a brittle smile altogether, wary, but rarer than Sintija had known him capable of. She hadn't realized how hard they had been staring at each other until Markos looked away, deeper into the cave beyond them, asking, "Is there somewhere in here off the main cavern? This is a little too open for a fire to do any good."
"There are three smaller chambers off to the right," Sintija paused as she added, "It doesn't have any bears in it this time of year. Most animals avoid Maraium cave systems. The river meets in the rear of this chamber off to the left." She blinked as she looked away from Markos towards the right side of the cavern.
They were moving again before she knew it. Markos took the reins up again in his one hand, but the other stayed near her. It might have been that he touched her midriff, but she could swear he held her closer.
They picked the chamber with the water, but didn't set the fire near it.