#i refuse to change my organizational tags thus you get the fancy long tags contrasted with shorter standard ones. huzzah

[crystal-verse]

Wolgraha week day 1: first kiss

[i found out there was an event. i immediately write a thing for the event. rejoice, because it'll be a hot second until i can write the post-ARR part of my crystal verse so y'all get this on tumblr only for now]

He's shy when he walks up to you, tail swishing behind him as he navigates the many crystals littering North Silvertear. There's grace in those steps -- G'raha has always been a bit graceful like that, not enough to be obvious but enough for you to notice if you spend a lot of time looking at him. Which, you do -- you, Sae'pheli'ehva, K'pheli Tia, spend quite a bit of time looking at G'raha. But -- that's beside the point.

He sits beside you, G'raha, and there's a question lingering on the tip of his tongue. You can tell it in the feel of the air, that slight sheen of nerves in those blue-and-red eyes of his. (You've always liked the blue eye better, that sea-blue sea-green shade, sitting between the two colors.)

You lean against him. It's cold, that day, and you appreciate the comfort of a warm body beside you.

He speaks. "May I kiss you?"

And you turn -- turn to look at him, all his confidence and shy nerves mixed upon his pretty, pretty face. You love him, you think. Not because of a crush, some silly infatuation -- you love him because for all his flaws and all his charm and all his everything, it is G'raha that you have worked to love, and the more you work for it the more you can feel that love settle. Something like romance, almost, for one who has no idea what romance is, who has never had a crush before.

You take one of his hands in yours. "If you would like." You tell him, and you put a smile on your face -- soft, quiet, shy, like G'raha is in this moment. "I would like to kiss you."

Your answer emboldens him -- he scoots forwards, closer to you from where you both sit on the ground, and he lifts his hands to cup your face. His eyes are ruby fire cherries glinting red and glass ice crystal shimmering blue, and his lips are soft and full, and he kisses you -- softly, slowly, sweetly. He kisses you as if you are something delicate, something that must be treated oh so gently for risk of being shattered, something more precious and priceless than anything else the earth could hold. He kisses you and his lips taste of lemon and honey, taste of the chapstick you had given him a week ago, and he kisses you and you cannot help but lean in, slide your eyelids closed, and focus on this -- on the heat of his lips against yours and his hands against your cheeks, on the soft noise of his breathing, of the way his vest and trousers feel bunched up in your hands as you cling to him.

It is, you think, as the two of you pull away and you open your eyes, a wonderful first kiss.

"Was that good?" He asks, your G'raha, your scholar with an eye of seaglass and an eye of carnelian.

You're sure your smile is wide enough to fill your whole mouth, and you press your forehead against his. "Yeah." Voice as quiet as his was. Something soft. Delicate. Treasured, as he'd treasured you. "It was."