Algorithm

Summary: Sure, the two of them bicker across the Ilyccian continent and back, but surprisingly, it beat traveling alone.

AN: This is a companion piece to Triangles by Salazarfalcon. While you don't have to read it in order to understand what's going on, it might help illuminate a certain secondary pairing. This is Rita/Raven, rated M for sexual content. I think aging her up is a cop out, so I didn't do it. If that bothers you, well, don't read it.

Aside from that, enjoy!

The first time Rita Mordio is asked to travel the world to research post-blastia technology, with Raven as her guardian, she all but screams at the guild leaders of Dahngrest, Yuri Lowell among them.

"Hell no! I don't need protection, and besides, who is going to protect me from that old pervert?"

The second time she's asked, just weeks later in the throne room of Zaphias, by Ioder and his council, Raven is called Schwann (merely a formality, Rita suspects), and it's all she can do not to scream the exact same response. Estelle's encouraging (and slightly sneaky) smile from across the room halts her response, and Rita sputters "F-fine, about the researching. I don't need anyone to accompany me, though."

It's not a lie, Rita tells herself; before the Adephagos she travelled all over Terca Lumireis unaccompanied. The cynical voice in the back of her mind whispers you had your blastia magic then, but Rita ignores it. She managed to replicate some of her spells in the last year, and while it was true that she wouldn't be raining fireballs down across the land any time soon, she could protect herself just fine, thank you very much.

"We would never dream of sending someone out for an extended period of time unaccompanied. It would not be safe." Ioder's voice is kind, but there is a distinct air of finality in his tone.

Two years ago, Rita might have screamed back that she wasn't even a subject of Zaphias, that they would do it her way or no way at all, that they could get stuffed for all she cared. This felt important, though; towns struggled to protect themselves since the destruction of the blastia barrier, destruction she helped cause.

Most importantly, after feeling useless and like a shadow of her former glory for a year, it was something she could do.

"Alright."

"Excellent. You will leave as soon as preparations can be made."

With a sigh, Rita turns and exits the throne room without replying. Apparently, the new cooperation between the capital and guilds includes strong-arming.

A week later, Rita stands at the gates of Zaphias, a pack loaded with research equipment hoisted on her back. Raven and Estelle are with her, and Rita wishes she could swap her travelling companion for the older girl.

"I'll miss you, too, Rita."

Rita hadn't said anything about missing Estelle, but she supposes it's true. She saw Estelle every day for the past couple months. It wasn't like she would have afternoon tea with Raven.

Speaking of Raven, he lurks outside the city gates, tucked against the wall. "I'm not wearin' my Schwann getup if we're travelin'," he'd told Rita when they met to discuss arrangements. Rita had shrugged, but inwardly she agreed with his desire for comfort. Rita could just spot an edge of hideous purple from the column he was behind.

"You'll see me in Halure in a few weeks," Rita smiles and gives Estelle a quick hug. Estelle holds onto her just a bit longer, squeezing Rita until she starts to squirm.

"Be safe. Try and enjoy yourself."

"With the old man?" Rita thinks she hears Raven scoff, and raises her voice a bit, "Better tell him to be safe, if he tries anything I'll blast him sky high."

"Play nicely, you two,"

Estelle's smile has the same sneaky vibe as before, and Rita wants to call her out, but she might be imagining it, and then Estelle ushers her out the gate and Estelle fades into the distance, waving happily at the pair.

Rita hates to admit it (and never will aloud), but four days into their trip, things are not actually that bad. Raven, when not flirting shamelessly with every female object in sight, is not a bad conversation partner. He also takes over the cooking after the first night, when the stew Rita makes congeals to the bowls, resembling something more akin to mortar than food. His concoctions are above adequate, and Rita hasn't offered to cook since.

"Mornin'."

Rita grumbles a reply, mornings never her strong suit. She untangles herself from the bedroll and makes her way over to where Raven is scrambling eggs and bacon in a skillet over the fire.

"You look lovely this mornin', Rita darlin'," Raven says after surveying her disheveled appearance. Her clothes are rumpled and her hair could use a washing.

"I will be so glad for an inn tonight." And a bath, she adds internally. Breakfast smells sinfully good, and she kneels next to Raven. "I hope we'll find something in Capua Torim."

Raven nods, sliding the bacon and eggs onto Rita's tin plate.

"Y'know, maybe I'll even meet a pretty lady."

Rita nearly smacks him, bur settles instead for a muffled "pervert" around a mouthful of eggs.

Two weeks later, Rita grudgingly admits that this trip would have been extremely boring without Raven. Sure, the two of them bicker across the Ilyccian continent and back, through the Quoi Woods, the Shaikos Ruins and every forest, plain, and town in between, but surprisingly, it beat traveling alone. Even without her blastia, Rita feels confident she can defeat most monsters, but there was something reassuring about hearing one of Raven's arrows zoom past her and thunk solidly into some monster flesh.

Surprisingly, Raven acts the part of a dutiful research assistant. There are even a couple of times when his suggestions actually improve the situation. Except for the one time his suggestion results in the creation of a small crater in a field. Rita laughs hysterically for nearly a half hour, only to create three more similarly-sized holes in the ground herself by the end of the month.

"It's just what happens when testing a new power source," she tells Raven smugly, pushing up her soot-covered goggles.

Raven makes some smart remark about her resembling a color-swapped raccoon, and laughs until his chest aches and he can't breathe. Rita slaps him lightly on the shoulder in retaliation, but the gesture lacks the force it would have in the past.

There were quieter times, too, sitting in front of the fire at night, or over mugs of frothy ale at an inn if they were lucky enough to stop in a town. Raven chastises her the first time she orders alcohol, saying she is too young, but there are no laws prohibiting it and she tells him so. Apparently her reputation precedes her, and few dare question her anyway.

Raven still looks like he doesn't approve, so Rita takes a bigger gulp to spite him.

Her feelings grow slowly; Rita is so unaccustomed to interacting with her emotions that it takes her many evenings staring intently at the fire to reason it out in her mind. She has no experience regarding romance and never felt at a loss not being part of the typical flurry of emotions of girls her age. Raven is different; past the flirting (and often frustrating) exterior, Raven is dependable and even sort of fun to be around. The physical attraction was the most perplexing; Rita, normally aloof, was unused to wanting to be in another's physical proximity. Yet Raven, sitting across the fire from her, or perched on a stool in a tavern, seems miles away and Rita itches to close the distance, despite not knowing what she'll do with herself once she gets there.

Rita refuses to believe that two of them will be bested by some overly toothy and clawed monster tucked deep in some dense forest. Rita's small fire spell does very little to deter the beast's progress, and she yells at Raven to pull back.

Raven acquiesces, drawing back into the heavy foliage and Rita joins him.

The underbrush doesn't provide much cover, but Rita hopes it will bide them the precious seconds needed to re-group. Raven narrows his eyes in the dim daylight filtering through the trees. More than anything, he fears Rita's fire spell has done little more than piss the monster off.

"Let's run," Raven decides. The damn thing already looks like a porcupine with all of Raven's arrows sticking out of it. He grabs Rita's arm and hauls her in the opposite direction.

"O-old man!"

Rita yells in protest at being dragged away, garnering the attention of the monster. It swings around, beady eyes focusing on the two of them. Realizing there is nowhere else to run, Raven turns, shoves Rita behind him and readies his bow.

The monster is faster; it reaches out with one sharp claw, poised to slice Raven nape to navel. Rita is faster though, and Raven watches in sickening slow motion as she jumps in front of him. The monster's claws make contact with Rita's shoulder, slicing through her clothing and skin. Raven lets out an inarticulate yell, firing an arrow that hits the monster square in the eye. The monster writhes in pain, but Raven doesn't take the time to watch it.

Rita slumps to the ground, breath ragged and clutching her shoulder. Raven is next to her immediately, scooping her into his arms and fleeing from the dying monster. They're a good distance away before Raven falls to his knees in the grass, taking Rita with him.

Rita winces as she's jostled to the ground. Objectively, she knows she is bleeding, but she feels distinctly disconnected from the entire event. She tries to move her arm and realizes she can, which is a good sign. There's a pressure against her shoulder, and Rita glances down to see Raven pressing his hand against the wound.

"R-raven?"

For the look in Raven's eyes, Rita would think she'd just been impaled or crushed under a tree. He looks absolutely terrified and there's a faraway look that suggests this goes deeper than Rita bleeding on the forest floor.

"I-I'm fine. It's just a scratch," Rita tries to calm the frantic look in Raven's eyes to no avail. She's not even sure he hears her, so she reaches her clean hand up and touches his cheek. The stubble on his face tickles her palm, and Rita marvels at the irony that this is the closest she's been to Raven.

Her touch gets his attention, and Raven utters a choked "don't" before pressing his lips roughly against hers.

When Rita awakes, her back is stiff and her shoulder throbs uncomfortably. At some point in the night, Raven had gathered kindling for a fire. It's smoldering ashes now, and Rita stares at it, bleary eyed, for a long moment. She's half in Raven's lap, she realizes, curled against his torso with that ugly purple jacket scrunched under her head as a pillow. She turns onto her back, ignoring the screaming of her shoulder. A bandage covers the wound, and she assumes Raven did that as well.

Raven looks like he's done nothing all night but stare down at her, there's dark smudges under his eyes and when they meet hers, he looks like he's seen a ghost. The previous night is acute in her mind—throwing herself in front of Raven, the monster's claws, Raven desperately pressing his lips against hers as she bled into the grass. Her face burns at the memory, and she presses a dirty hand against her mouth. If the injury had been worse, if she'd been killed by that stupid monster without saying anything to Raven. The look in Raven's eyes haunts her, and Rita can't stop herself from speaking.

"Raven, I-I think I-"

The words don't come easy; expressing emotions like this leads to vulnerability, and Rita stumbles. Raven's expression changes, like he's done something inexcusable and he cuts Rita off before she even finishes.

"You don't."

There's no malice in his voice, just weariness and defeat. The dismissal of her feelings hurts Rita more than her shoulder, even more than a rejection would have. She isn't sure what she expected. Never a dismissal though, like she is a child who doesn't understand the gravity of her emotions.

She doesn't reply, and ignoring her shoulder, she jerks off Raven's lap, rolls onto the grass and stands up. Her steps are wobbly, but without a word she grabs her pack and stomps off in the opposite direction of the camp.

To hell with the old pervert, anyway.

When Raven finds her, it's nearing dusk and she's huddled near the edge of a stream in a clearing in the forest. He almost calls out to her, bur fearing she will forcibly rip the blastia from his chest, or worse, stomp off again, he settles down beside her in the grass. Raven had at least eight hours to think about how royally he'd fucked up, but he is no closer to a solution.

Rita looks worse than she did that morning; her hair is lank and tangled and there's blood dried around the gash in her clothing. Seeing Rita's blood makes Raven's stomach lurch and he focuses instead on the trickling water in front of him. He has no course of action regarding Rita's almost-confession; over the last weeks they'd gotten closer, a fact that Raven forced himself to ignore. There is no future for Rita with him, something he intends to tell her. Even as he'd dismissed her feelings there'd been a bubbly feeling in his chest that resembled hope. It only made him think himself even more perverse, and the shame from that quickly smothers the bubbly feeling.

Neither speaks for a long moment, and it's Raven who first braves breaking the silence.

"Rita, y'know, you shouldn't waste your affections on this old man. I've already died once, and who knows how much longer I'll stay kickin'. You're young, and there's plenty a' guys that'd be charmed by you. And I think ya know from experience that I'm not reliable, or even trustworthy." His tone is like usual, jovial and teasing, but Raven doesn't think it's ever been this hard to keep that façade from cracking.

Rita turns on the balls of her feet, eyes livid, and Raven knows immediately that he's spoken wrong. This is confirmed when Rita's right fist connects squarely with his jaw. The barely healed gash on her shoulder tears open, blood oozing out anew; Rita ignores it. The force of the collision sends Raven sprawling to the ground and Rita stands menacingly above him.

"You're an idiot, old man!" Rita yells, and several roosting birds stir in the nearby trees. "For the last month, every time you talk about yourself you sound so damn pathetic. Do you get off on sounding like the world is about to collapse around you? I get that your sad, sad life story makes a rad conversation starter at parties, but we've known you for a long time!" Rita stops pacing and waves her arms at Raven. "What do you think we think of you?"

Raven, still sprawled on the ground, clutches his face where Rita's fist hit and looks up at her.

"We care about you!" Rita doesn't seem inclined wait for Raven's response and continues yelling, "We know what Alexei did, how he treated you. Estelle forgave you for kidnapping her. She's by far the kindest person among us, but still! If your melodramatic internal angst is because you're worried that we resent you, stop it!"

Rita stops her tirade, and as the adrenaline fades she realizes her eyes are burning and it feels suspiciously like tears. Raven's face is paper-white (except for the faint purple bruise blossoming across his cheek) and he remains silent.

"It—It's not because of us though, is it?" The decibel level decreases and Rita kneels beside him, suddenly exhausted. Blood trickles down the inside of her top and she presses a hand against the bandage. "We can tell you we've forgiven you every day, old man, but you're still gonna be an idiot about it. My superior intellect tells me the root of your extreme stupidity's in here." She taps the blastia where his heart should be with the tip of her index finger. "Just 'cause it keeps you alive doesn't mean you have to let it define your life."

When Raven speaks for the first time, his words surprise Rita, "You shouldn't risk your life for a man who's been dead for over a decade."

"Weird," Rita replies, this time prodding the forming bruise and ignoring Raven's wince, "I'm not philosopher, but I'm pretty sure there's some contradiction about it being possible to risk your life for a dead guy, even old perverts like you. Scientifically, which I am pretty damn good at, guys who've been dead for a decade don't bruise when punched."

Stopping Rita is like trying to plug a dam with his fingers, and Raven surrenders.

"Casey died for me, wasted her life trying to protect me," Raven's eyes fall shut as he speaks. "I could have at least died with her on that battlefield, but Alexei stole even that from me."

Rita has never met Casey, and never will, but she's certain, decades and circumstances apart, they jumped in front of Raven for the same reason. "Casey gave her life 'cause she thought it would save yours. She wanted you to be happy, even if she couldn't be with you. Alexei fucked that up for you, he did, but guess what, Raven, he's dead and gone too."

She wants to tell Raven that the dead only have power over you if you let them, and that he should take the life that Alexei gave him and live how he wants, that she's certain Casey wouldn't have wanted this for him. There's no way to express it properly, though, so she doesn't try. Rita thinks about her own childhood, feeling victimized and angry at adults who either abandoned her or didn't take her seriously. The bitterness had its uses; certainly, the anger made her work ten times as hard to prove herself, but also left her very lonely.

"Why is a sixteen-year-old girl tellin' me things that make her sound much wiser than she should be?" The teasing edge is back in his voice, but it sounds broken and hollow and makes Rita's heart ache.

"Not my fault that you're an idiot, old man."

The stinging feeling in her eyes is back, only this time the tears do spill over and she pulls Raven against her chest so he won't see. Rita never cries, hasn't since she was a child, and it's made worse by the fact that if anyone should be crying right now, it's Raven.

Raven tenses against her; affectionate gestures aimed in his direction are few and far between. He remembers Casey's warmth as she threw her body over his on the battlefield, Alexei's cold hands, even how soft and light Estelle was when he'd kidnapped her. Rita feels like none of these, though—she smells like blood and grass and isn't particularly soft.

"I-I know, it's hard. Especially when you feel like you have nothing to offer anyone, that there's no point to your existence other than—other than just that one thing." The words choke Rita, cotton in her throat, and she doesn't know if she's talking about Raven, or herself, or both. "But-but it's alright. There's more to you than that, and everyone knows, so it's fine, it's best, to let it go."

Why? Raven wants to ask her. Why risk herself for a dead man? Why forgive his actions? We care about you; the words echo through Raven's mind. He tries, tries to imagine a world where the self-loathing he feels inside isn't reflected by those around him. Rita doesn't lie—she is brutally, unforgivably honest in all situations. He wants to believe her, but it's hard and it hurts.

"I want to try." It's not a promise; Raven doesn't even know how to begin doing what Rita asks.

"Don't make me tell Estelle what you think of yourself. If you think I'm bad, you don't even want to imagine what she'll do to you."

Raven nods into her uninjured shoulder, fisting his hands into the fabric of her top. Rita holds him there for a long moment. There's more she could say, more she wants to say.

When Raven finally pulls away from her, the sun has set and he gestures to her bloody shoulder. "You're bleedin' again." Rita hadn't noticed and follows his eyes down to her shoulder. "Hold on."

Within minutes, a fire crackles merrily in the clearing, and Raven quarters some potatoes and tosses them in a pot. Rita watches silently, and when he returns to her, Raven presses a bar of soap into her hand.

"Don't hit me," it's a command, not a request, and Rita sits stone-still as Raven unties her sash and slips her top down her shoulders. The dried blood catches on the gash and pulls, making Rita wince. "Wash up and I'll re-bandage it."

Rita shouldn't blush as hard as she does, her breasts are wrapped and there's nothing to be embarrassed by. She'd bathed with Estelle and Judith before, and they'd seen more of her than this. Hopefully the firelight hides how red her face is.

The stream is unpleasantly cold, but Rita feels so disgusting she scrubs her hair and everything she can reach. The soap stings her wound and she lets the current carry all the grime away. When she returns to the fire, clutching her tattered robe to her chest and shivering, Raven takes it from her and wraps his purple haori around her shoulders.

"A clean one?" she inquires, remembering how the one Raven wore was covered in dirt and some of her blood.

Raven nods.

"You have two of these ugly things?"

"Betcha you're happy for it now, ugly or not."

Rita can't argue with that. Raven bandages her shoulder, disinfecting and wrapping it with layers of cream cloth. The cut isn't deep, and looks pretty mild once cleaned up. Rita doesn't think it'll affect her mobility after it heals. Raven tucks his jacket around her afterwards, and Rita scoots closer to the fire for warmth.

"Mind the soup. Just stir it."

Raven takes the bar of soap and heads to the stream. Rita doesn't suppose she can ruin potato stew by stirring it, so she lazily trails the ladle through the mixture.

Raven returns to the camp a while later, wet-haired with the blanket from his bedroll wrapped around his shoulders, and takes the spoon from Rita. He ladles the stew into two bowls and passes one to her. Rita's stomach growls and she realizes how hungry she actually is. The stew is good, delicious actually, and Rita spends the next few minutes steadily eating.

"Yesterday, when you—were you really going to say…?"

There's no question in either of them as to what Raven is referring to, and Rita looks up from her bowl and locks eyes with him across the fire. Raven's hair is loose and damp, a way she rarely sees; it reminds her of Schwann. It doesn't make Rita angry to think of Raven that way anymore; it only makes her sad.

"Why'd you kiss me?"

Rita hates when questions are answered with other questions, but Raven's words annoy her and she feels contrary. Raven's question doesn't need answered; Rita isn't a liar and he already knows, probably has for weeks and weeks. Rita thinks she knows why he kissed her, remembers the desperate look in his eyes and the frantic way he pressed his hands against her bleeding shoulder. There's more to it though, more than just Raven's feelings, or even her own. Rita isn't naïve enough to think that everything will be magically perfect if Raven reciprocates her feelings.

Instead, Raven shrugs, and immediately that the façade is back. "Y'know how I am, darlin'."

Oh, the nerve of him!

There's a loud clank, and Rita's soup bowl collides with the nearest tree. She's on her feet now, closing the distance between them. If she had her blastia she'd send him sky high and rain meteors down upon Raven's stupid, moronic head.

"You're lying." Rita doesn't scream; her voice is deadly low, "You may act a cad and a pervert, but anytime a woman so much as looks your way, you back off. I've been watching."

Raven gulps, and Rita hopes he fears for his life.

"R-Rita…"

"I'm not done, so shut up." Raven falls silent and Rita's eyes narrow. "You are so hell-bent on denying yourself any sort of happiness. Don't you dare steal my first kiss and tell me you were teasing me. Learn how to lie better before you try and pull that shit. It's like you think I'm the stupid one. I was nice to you earlier; I want to help you, but I can't if you just—."

Rita stops suddenly, frustrated, and waves her arms. She plops heavily onto the ground, facing away from Raven.

"It's not that I don't…People'll talk," Raven barely whispers, and Rita swings her head around to meet his gaze.

"What people?" Rita fires back, "The squirrels in the forest?"

"I mean later, Rita."

"So? You said it yourself, you're a dead guy. And no one likes me, anyway."

"You're sixteen," Raven says it like it's his trump card.

"Excellent, you're smart enough to count but still too big an idiot to at least try and be happy."

"It's not about being happy."

"Estelle will love it. I'm half-convinced she's been planning it," Rita's reply is irreverent, but exhaustion is setting in and arguing with Raven is like herding cats.

Raven laughs, broken and amused all at once. Rita's logic and will are like a fortress. He feels exposed and frightened under her gaze; she sees right through his act and it's unsettling. Raven longs for it, a place for himself, even the ugly, jagged bits. Acting in front of Rita is pointless, and he remembers her earlier words about letting everything go. Could he? After years and years, the taint of Alexei's control over him burned into his skin, did he even dare to? He wants to accept Rita's feelings and her desire to help him, but he doesn't know where to begin.

But it's obvious, isn't it? Rita is in front of him, flushed and angry-eyed, wrapped in his clothes. This is where to start.

"Let's be discreet about it, just at first."

The angry and perplexed look on Rita's face is adorable. She turns around completely, kneeling on her hands and knees and glaring at Raven intently. His haori falls open, trailing the ground and exposing Rita's stomach. Raven takes it as a good sign that he's too terrified to steal a glance.

"Don't mess with me, old man."

Raven tugs at her arms and Rita spills forward, landing against his chest. Their lips are inches apart. Rita searches, tries to gather meaning from the look in Raven's eyes. Instead, her heart thumps violently, and she can't tear her gaze away from his stupid face

"Makin' up for the first botched one," he explains, before pressing his mouth against hers. Rita's eyes slam shut and she freezes. Raven, not to be deterred, breaks the contact and whispers "Don't mess up your second first kiss."

The next month is the strangest of Rita's life. More than once she is tempted to ask Raven if he's as disconcerted as she is, but she can't stand the fact that asking belies her inexperience. Rita has no model of a functioning relationship on which to base her relationship (is that even what to call it?) with Raven. She'd grown up practically an orphan and spent the rest of her childhood cloistered away in Aspio being awesome at science. The only relationship she can use as a frame of reference are Yuri, Flynn, and Estelle, and the result is so unfathomable that Rita can't imagine mimicking any of that behavior.

So, for the first few days, Rita does nothing, except occasionally worry about how they will fare once they reach Halure. Raven's bruise colors spectacularly on the second morning and Rita freezes a scrap of cloth and presses it against his cheek. She won't apologize, something Raven knows, but she doesn't miss the small smile he gives her.

One of the most distinct changes is the absence of Raven's typical flirty banter. Rita will never admit it, but she almost misses it. Raven is subdued around her; they speak politely and pleasantly, but not since the first night did he try anything. Rita feels like she's on pins and needles, but embarrassment outweighs her frustration and she says nothing.

Raven talks more than about himself before; he tells her about his childhood, about joining the knights. The topics have heavy moments, but Raven's tone is lighter and he talks of happy moments as well. Rita reciprocates, telling him of her mother's death, of not remembering her face, of her father's research and her desire to prove herself. She stumbles sometimes, unaccustomed to talking about herself, but Raven makes for an attentive audience.

When day five hits, Rita decides she can't take it anymore and corners him during breakfast. Impulsively, she fists her hand in the fabric near his shoulder and turns Raven to face her. The look on her face (Rita honestly wasn't sure what it was) must startle him, if Raven's expression is any indication.

If he intends to speak, Rita doesn't care to wait. Five days of Raven's weird behavior is driving her crazy. The kiss is hard and fast, and Raven gasps into her mouth, tries to pull back, only to be tugged closer by Rita. The force is enough to send both of them toppling over; Raven tries again to speak, but Rita only kisses him harder, grasping at his tied-back hair.

"—Discreet." Raven's one word reply comes minutes later, when Rita finally lets him go to catch her breath. Raven wishes she could see her expression, flushed from exertion and dark-eyed. It would undoubtedly embarrass her.

"So discreet that not even I know about it?" Rita bites back, giving Raven an inch, but not letting him go.

"I didn't intend to—"

"Drive me crazy? Well, old man, it worked."

Raven laughs.

Halure is beautiful when the two of them finally do arrive, two days early. Rita always loses track of time while researching, and she supposes a month of scribbling formulas and kissing Raven would make anyone lose track. They check into the inn mid-afternoon. Rita says nothing as the person behind the desk hands them keys to two adjoining rooms on the third floor. Both rooms have spectacular views of the tree, but Rita thinks that hers is to better of the two. The tree's continually rose-colored petals flutter past the window, and Rita has the very childish desire to go roll amongst the fallen ones.

The first order of business is a bath. She collects all her dirty clothes (which are nearly everything) and sends them away for washing. Having other people do things that she could easily do herself bothers Rita, but she tells herself that there's nowhere to wash them in her room, and sometimes it's nice to relax.

The bath is excellent. It makes Rita feel too girly to admit it, but luxurious baths are one of her guilty pleasures. The soap is obviously made from the tree's petals; the sent is mild and soothing, but not overpowering. Rita runs the water as hot as she can stand and soaks until she feels waterlogged and pruny. The only clothing available to her is the petal-pink yukata-style robe provided by the inn. Rita slips it on begrudgingly, vowing not to leave the room until her clothes are returned.

The sun is setting when Raven knocks on the adjoining door. Rita opens it to find Raven holding a platter of sandwiches, fruit, and a pitcher of what Rita hopes is something alcoholic. Raven's hair is partially damp, and Rita notices that he isn't wearing a hideous pink robe.

"Color looks good on you, Rita darlin'."

Rita scrunches her nose in distaste, but ignores Raven's remark. "It's the color of Estelle's hair," she replies instead.

Raven's only reply is to smile and place the tray on the small table nestled near the window. Whether it's intentional or not, Rita is glad that Raven brought something to eat other than stew. It was an easy fix for traveling, and Rita isn't a picky eater, but having something else is refreshing. They settle across from each other at the table, Rita picking up an egg salad sandwich and munching on it.

"Estelle and Yuri will be here in two days," Raven's tone is conversational, but the underlying meaning is obvious : How do we act when they arrive?

"Yep," Rita replies in between bites. It may be petty, but she is convinced that Raven needs practice dropping the cryptic act.

"You know what I mean."

"Estelle will love it," It's not the first time Rita says it, but it holds true. Hindsight is very, very clear, and Rita can pinpoint instances of Estelle pushing them in this direction.

Raven doesn't reply, but the skepticism in his eyes speaks volumes.

"Listen, old—Raven, if you're hung up on, I don't even know, protecting my virtue or something—get over it. I don't care, and there's no one to be angry on my behalf. No parents to chase you out of the house with a broom or whatever." This only functioned if Rita was an adult, an equal—not Raven's lesser in any way. "Look, if you're ashamed to be seen with me, because of my age, or your age, or the past…or whatever, then let's stop while we're ahead. I'm not gonna scream about it on the rooftops, but I'm not interested in living in a forest forever, so yeah."

There is definitely a direct correlation between her diatribes and Raven's dumbstruck expressions.

"I don't care how people see me," Raven admits, "I'm just thinkin' of how it'll affect you." He stops himself from telling her how she has so much potential and life left, and that he would surely ruin it. It would probably end with a fist in his face, and Raven is slowly realizing that he doesn't want to think that way about himself.

"It's not your place to worry about how people see me; I'm just fine at managing my own reputation." It's not an entire truth; Rita has made terrible impressions all over the place, but that is caused solely by her awful attitude. She knows this.

Raven snorts at Rita's admission and polishes off the last bites of his second sandwich. He trusts her though, trusts her judgment and her ability to manage her own life, and doesn't press the issue. If Rita says she doesn't mind, then he believes her.

"Darlin', I think it's time for this old man to get some shuteye," Raven stands up from his chair and stacks the dishes neatly on the tray. Rita's eyes follow him as he pushes the chair in, makes for the door between their rooms.

Suddenly, Rita's on her feet, crossing the room to meet Raven at the half-open door, fingers circling his wrist and pushing the door closed again. Raven's perplexed gaze meets hers, and Rita manages to school her features into a trademark scowl. Another step forward and Rita crowds into Raven's personal space, his back pressed flush against the door. Rita's other hand brushes over his forever-hideous purple shirt, fingers ghosting over the metal of the blastia beneath. Her scowl deepens and Raven looks more perplexed than before.

"Stay."

It's not a question or a request—it's a command, and had he not been so confused, Raven would have laughed at how Rita-esque the behavior is.

Rita looks downright pissed that Raven is confused, and responds by grabbing his collar and tugging him down so they are eye-to-eye. "The night," Rita clarifies, just short of asking Raven if he wants to have morning coffee with her.

"You shouldn't have such a scary expression," Raven replies, resting his hands on Rita's hips atop the hideous pink robe.

"It's your fault." Rita snatches Raven's hands and pulls them away from her hips, intending to turn away. Raven tightens his grip, tugging Rita closer and trapping her hands between them.

"Sorry, darlin', you startled me." The boldness of Rita's request sends him for a loop, makes him question if she really knows what she's asking. Rita always knows what she's asking, though, and Raven tries to swallow the weird lump that magically appears in his throat.

Rita's expression softens, a fact she hides by pressing her forehead against Raven's chest. "S-sorry," she admits, the apology is barely a whisper and Rita forces herself to say it. It would be so much easier if Raven didn't demand explanations. "For the past month, it feels like you stop yourself, and I don't know how to get you to not…"

Raven wants to tell her it's because she's sixteen, because he's afraid of hurting her, but Rita inspires an unprecedented level of honesty in him. Regardless of what his attraction to Rita says about him, for the last month, when Raven continually stilled Rita' wandering hands, the action had very little to do with her or her age. It would be so much easier if that were the reason. Rita was wonderful, actually; Raven smiled more genuine smiles in the last month than in the last decade. The willpower to keep his infatuation at bay was crumbling, though, and under Rita's hands Raven is certain it will topple like a house of cards.

"Why do you make it so hard?" Rita, continues, "It's obvious, what you want. Even when you stopped me before, you're making it difficult. Don't make it that way."

Raven tilts her chin up, holding her gaze for a significant moment before kissing her. It's soft and chaste, unlike Rita's kisses, which are usually bruising and accompanied by her deft fingers. Rita's green eyes flutter shut and she doesn't try and commandeer the kiss. Kissing Rita and fighting with Rita are not that different, and Raven can't help but feel pleased that she's not fighting him on this one.

Was it really so easy, though? Rita barrels headfirst though everything in a way Raven could never hope to emulate. This was no exception, and she pulls away from him, renewing her steadfast grip on his wrist and leading him to the bed. Rita perches on the edge, legs draped over the side. Raven keeps his distance when Rita drops his wrist, hovering around the peripheral of the bed.

"Is this really what you want to do?" Raven's question is sincere, but the thought of Rita changing her mind makes his chest ache. The realization that he wants her isn't new, it's a steady climb over the last month, a burning ache each time he'd captured Rita's hands as they worked undone a button on his shirt. Raven battled it, for a long time, only to be outdone by Rita's iron will and the acceptance that the desire was mutual, if unorthodox.

"A month is much longer than needed to make the decision," Rita's response is almost clinical, but Raven doesn't miss the coloring of her cheeks and the tightening of her fingers on the edge of her robe. One of Rita's few dishonesties is always putting up a brave face, even when nervous. And be damned if Raven doesn't find the expression enticing.

"I won't make it difficult, then," Raven acquiesces, kneeling before Rita, "but don't be contrary about it either, okay?" Rita glares again, and Raven has the immediate desire to replace that expression with something else.

Rita's pulse quickens unevenly when Raven presses a soft kiss the closest patch of skin available, which happens to be inside of Rita's knee. He stands up, then, moving to sit beside her on the bed. "Rita," Raven whispers, commanding her attention. Their eyes meet again and Rita gulps; Raven's typically-reserved expression has been replaced by one of open appreciation. Rita thinks that her clothing is suddenly much too sheer, becomes aware of the yukata sliding open around her knees as she fidgets.

He watches her for what feels like centuries, like he's playing a game of chicken to see if Rita will snap first. She goes, gladly, moving onto her knees and kissing Raven with her usual force. Raven's delicate kiss from before was nice, but it's not what Rita wants. A part of her mind not crowded with the feeling of Raven's hands sliding around her waist reasons that Raven really wasn't being difficult. There's a reticence to his responses that is absent, and Rita relishes in the idea of him really letting go. She grabs at Raven's hair, pulling out the tie and burying her fingers in it.

"This should have been weeks ago," Rita breathes into the kiss, unsure of whether she's talking about this intimacy or Raven finally doing whatever the hell he wanted.

"Takes time for old men to sort things out," Raven admits. Rita, not interested in his excuses, runs her tongue across Raven's lips. If Raven is surprised, he doesn't show it, allowing Rita to deepen the exchange. There will be moments soon where Rita will be forced to relinquish control over to Raven, but now isn't one of them.

Raven trails kisses away from Rita's lips, across the underside of her jaw, stopping to nip at a place behind her ear. Rita tries, and fails, to stop from whimpering at the contact. Raven hears anyway, smiles into her skin, and repeats the gesture. The perpetual stubble on Raven's chin tickles her neck, and Rita finds even that strangely appealing.

The yukata, while cinched quite firmly around Rita's torso, is easy enough to slide down on of her shoulders. Rita's hands fall to her lap as the yukata slides down. Raven's mouth easily transitions to the new space, kissing down the column of Rita's neck to her collarbone. Rita squirms, unaccustomed to feeling this exposed, moves her hands to the bottommost button of Raven's shirt. She's tried this before with no success, but the unguarded expression in Raven's eyes spurs her on.

Which is why Rita is surprised when Raven's hand, the one that just moments ago was tracing patterns on her knee, firmly grasps her hand. Raven doesn't stop his ministrations, biting down lightly on her collarbone.

"Do you think I'm an idiot?"

Raven freezes and his eyes fix on their joined hands. Rita's fingers are still curled around the hem of his shirt. He doesn't want to meet her gaze, knows that her flushed face and angry eyes will bore into his very soul. Rita doesn't give him a choice, tilts his chin up and holds it there. Raven's eyes waver to the reddened patches of skin on Rita's neck and shoulder—those would show tomorrow, and maybe a few days after that.

"Tell me," Rita demands, "This is where you stop me, every time."

"Alexei made sure I never showed it to anyone," Raven begins, and Rita's fingers tighten on his jaw. "Before, whenever I was …" He has no desire to tell Rita of a decade spent on mindless sexual encounters with women whose faces and name blurred together. Bringing those memories to this moment sickens Raven and he fears Rita won't understand. "…together, with someone, I just…didn't."

It's true, Rita realizes, she can count on one hand the number of times she's seen the blastia that acts as Raven's heart. It's there, she's felt the contrast between Raven's skin and metal through his clothes more than once, seen it glowing brightly, but Raven keeps it guarded, covered. It's the ultimate physical reminder of what Alexei did. Rita tries to imagine a string of perfunctory sexual encounters, all lacking any semblance of intimacy. It's not an easy thing for her to picture, but she thinks of growing up unnoticed, of being so starved for affection that she didn't even know it was gone, of Estelle's smothering hugs.

"It's not like I don't know it's there," Rita replies, knowing there was no way to articulate her thoughts. "I love blastia," she adds, "They were my whole life for a long, long time. Alexei's not here to stop you." Rita lets go of Raven's chin, giving him the space to make his own choices. Rita longs for it, for Raven to shed the last vestiges of Alexei, but there's no forcing it, so she waits.

Raven eventually takes Rita's hands and presses them against the bottommost button. The smile that crosses Rita's face must be ridiculous, because Raven smiles back, and Rita is overcome with a stupidly ecstatic feeling. Rita's hands move with precision, as they always do, and in seconds Raven's shirt is pushed aside.

There's no apprehension in Rita as she reaches out to lay her palm against the blastia. It's warm, warmer than Raven's skin, and whirrs slightly underneath her fingers. Rita's curiosity turns scientific; the idea that a blastia could be powered by a human life is still just as fascinating as when she'd discovered the concept.

Raven, meanwhile, watches Rita trace the outside of the blastia with her fingertips with a quiet curiosity. He'd expected to feel the familiar dread, but there's nothing of the sort, only Rita's slightly calloused fingers and a vague ticklish feeling. There's scar tissue around where the metal meets his skin, but he'd always thought morbidly that Alexei did a fine job. Visually, it could be much, much worse. Rita presses her cheek to the blastia, and Raven assumes she's listening to the constant whirring.

"It used to keep me awake," Raven admits.

Tilting her heard and glancing up, Rita's green eyes meet his, "It's sort of…calming."

The thought that anyone in the world could find something to appreciate about the blastia makes Raven's chest clench, the gratitude he feels towards Rita overwhelms him, and he pulls her against him and buries his face in her brown hair.

"R-Raven?"

"Thanks." Raven's voice is gruff and he hopes the word carries the multitude of things he doesn't know how to tell her.

"Raven," Rita speaks up again a moment later, "let's have fun. This is supposed to be fun, right?"

Raven chuckles and presses a kiss into her hair, "It can be, yes."

"Good."

Rita is immediately handsy again, tugging at Raven's sleeves until he untangles himself from her enough to shuck the thing entirely, tossing it off the bed. Rita thinks he looks much better this way, with the hideous purple as far away from him as possible, and she tells him so.

Raven laughs again, harder this time, "The pink of that robe is no better."

"At least it doesn't clash with the bedspread, and I don't voluntarily choose this color," Rita snarks back.

"And you'd look better out of it, darlin'," Raven's retort is unplanned, and Rita blushes all the way down to her knees. He moves to the headboard and rests against the pillows there, holding out a hand to Rita, who crawls across the bed to meet him. The crawling probably isn't intended to be enticing, but that doesn't abate the heat the floods Raven's body at the sight.

Ever competitive, Rita makes a point of straddling Raven's torso and pinning him to the bed, hips dangerously close to his. "Careful, there," Raven tries to keep his voice teasing, but it comes out lower than he anticipates, half-warning and half-aroused.

Raven has no doubt that Rita Mordio will be the death of him.

"This has to go." Raven pulls the yukata down around her shoulders until the sash prevents him. It's not bad though; he has a lovely view of the upper swells of Rita's breasts. Unable to resist, Raven runs his fingertips over Rita's skin, admiring the way her breath hitches and goose bumps appear. He runs his hands over the clothed parts, too, watching Rita's face for a reaction. Her eyes flutter closed and her hand grips the pillow behind Raven's head.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"N—no."

Rita looks nervous, but Raven doesn't know how to relieve it. He cups her face and runs his thumb over her cheek. In his mind it seems comforting, but Rita just glares at him.

"I'm not a child," Rita's voice is low and determined, and she reaches behind her back, fidgeting with the knotted sash holding her robe closed.

"Well, darlin', if we're speakin' comparatively—"

"We're not."

Rita rocks her hips spitefully against Raven, deliberately ignoring the way it feels and focusing on slowly torturing Raven to death

The tie is undone and Ravens assists her, pulling it slowly from around her waist. The rob falls open and Rita instinctively brings her arms together to hold it up. There's nothing under it, a fact Raven had assumed, but seeing it with his own eyes is better than imagining.

She drops her arms and the robe falls around her elbows, exposing her breasts. Rita wants to cover up, but Raven stops her, helping her slip the robe off her arms and throwing it across the room.

"You deserve something prettier." Then Raven is kissing her again, hungry and passionate and Rita wonders if this is the way she kisses him. The feeling is heady and overwhelming. Rita grapples for control for a few precious seconds before giving in. Raven's hands find her breasts, cupping them and rubbing over her nipples with his thumbs. Rita feels him smirk into the kiss, moving his fingers to pinch her nipples. It's doesn't hurt, not really, but Raven puts more force behind the gesture and Rita breaks the kiss to moan unabashedly for the first time, forehead buried in Raven's neck.

Raven whispers a heated, "Victory" into her ear.

Annoyed, Rita bites down onto Raven's neck hard enough to bruise. Raven doesn't make a sound, but Rita feels him tense and she slides her hands up his chest, thrusting against his hips and pressing their torsos together. Unprepared for the feeling of that much skin-to-skin contact, the warmer metal of the blastia pressed against her, Rita whimpers again. She can feel Raven's erection between her thighs, and clamps her knees around him when Raven meets her thrust.

The friction and contact is too much for Raven, and Rita claims her victory when the next thrust makes Raven rasp her name.

She slides against him. "Say my name like that again."

"R-Rita."

"I think I like that," Rita admits, voice low in Raven's ear.

After Rita rocks against him several more times, pleasure overtakes him and he grabs her hips to still her. "Darlin', it'll be over before it starts if you keep…"

"S-sorry," Rita nods, sliding off of him to sit near his knees. She wonders if maybe she'd been too enthusiastic. Her nudity is less uncomfortable now, and she doesn't try and cover herself when Raven gazes at her openly.

"Trade places with me." Rita obeys, moving to rest her back against the pillows. Raven comes to kneel in front of her, bending her knees and spreading them slightly.

"What are you—" Embarrassed, Rita tries to slam her knees shut, but Raven stops her.

"You'll thank me later," Raven explains, "It can hurt, the first time."

"I know," Rita huffs indignantly, "I'm not stupid."

"I didn't say you were." Raven remembers being Rita's age, younger even, and the awkward first attempt with Casey. He didn't regret it, but looking back, neither of them had any clue what was going on. Raven had hurt her, and he didn't want to hurt Rita.

"I know how to—," Rita blurts next, mortified. She doesn't want to talk to Raven about this. Not in the slightest, but the thought of him doing it for her, or giving her some sort of sex talk, is equally horrifying. Raven's hands are still perched on her knees, and he looks at her expectantly.

"I've masturbated!" Rita yells it like it's a scientific discovery, and Raven mimics a stunned forest animal. "A lot, for a long time, so you don't need to…argh!" Rita buries her face in her hands, shaking her head frantically.

"Show me."

Rita drops her hands and stares at Raven, her turn to be speechless. She wants to be confused by Raven's request, or call him a pervert, but the expression on his face makes both responses impossible. His eyes are dark, pupils dilated, and the fact that he wants her, wants to see her and touch her squashes Rita's typical obstinate responses. The idea of Raven watching her isn't unappealing, if her body has anything to say about it; it's exciting just thinking about it.

"Do you really want to watch?" Rita means the question to sound even-keeled, but her voice comes out lust-filled and foreign to her own ears.

Raven doesn't answer immediately. He slides his palms up Rita's legs, caressing the insides of her thighs and stopping at the barrier of her underwear. Fingers dip under the elastic and Rita squirms, wants Raven to touch her as much as he must want her to touch herself. He slides his fingers over the outside, dipping a finger into her entrance through the fabric. The finger slides easily, moving with the fabric, and Rita hates how good it feels.

"You're wet." Raven says it like he's stating his name and Rita curses his ability to remain calm despite the lust she knows he's feeling. Rita jerks forward and reaches for the front of his pants. Raven needs to know how she feels, needs to experience the same sensations, like there's spring winding ever tighter in her abdomen.

Hands find hers though, batting them away. The smirk on Raven's face and his commanding tone is infuriating, "Make yourself come for me, then we'll talk."

"F-fuck off," Rita stammers. She doesn't mean it; Raven's smirk tells her he knows it, too. He leans over, hands on either side of Rita's head. "D-don't get so close." Rita, despite finding the prospect enticing, has no idea how this will work with an audience.

Raven listens this time, settling beside Rita on the bed. His erection is almost painful, but he so wants to see Rita do this. Rita sighs, eyes fluttering closed, like she's steeling herself or conjuring up some sort of fantasy.

Eventually, Rita slips a hand down the front of her panties. Raven wishes she'd taken them off, so he could watch the way she runs her fingers over herself. Rita seems even wetter than before, though, and Raven is grateful for it; the plain beige of her underwear isn't enough to mask when she slips a finger inside. Her face is flushed and Rita squirms against her hand when she hits a particularly pleasurable spot. Despite her request for distance, Raven can't stop himself from reaching out to her, tracing the outline of one breast with his fingers.

Rita's concentrating heavily on her fingers, and doesn't notice Raven's approach until he touches her. Her eyes snap open, gaze unfocused, and she stumbles over his name, "R-Raven."

"Don't stop on my account," Raven tries to tease her, but fails miserably and can barely get the words out. Deciding that his hands are more coherent (and helpful) he touches Rita anywhere he can reach.

Raven's fingers burn wherever he touches her. It helps, in a way, but it also throws Rita off after finding her own way for so long. "L-Let me do it," Rita whimpers as she speaks, smacking Raven's hands away from her body. "I don't need your help."

Rita's eyes are closed again, but she hears a dark chuckle and then Raven's breath is hot in her ear, "How do your fingers feel?" She tries to ignore him, slips a third finger inside and curls her hand around in the way that always works.

"Shut up." Being watched is kind of stimulating, but all the talking and the touching throw her off. She's close now, would be even closer if Raven would stop distracting her. Rita's body tightens, then releases, and she lets out a shuttering breathe as she comes. Her eyes open and meet Raven's, who's looking down at her in awe.

"I've never seen anyone do that." There's no teasing this time, only Raven's open and honest gaze. On Rita's lips had been a biting retort about Raven's "help," and the fact that he wouldn't let her touch him, but the words die before she even starts.

"I told you I knew how," Rita replies smugly. She slips her hand out from beneath her panties and wipes it on the comforter.

"Can I touch you now?"

It's Rita's turn to laugh, "Singin' a different tune now, aren't you?" She might be imagining it, but Rita could swear that Raven's cheeks color slightly. "Only if I can touch you."

"Please—God, yes."

Rita laughs again, and the sound is music to Raven's ears. He slips Rita's soaked underwear down over her hips and drinks in the sight of her naked before him for the first time. Raven tries to squash any romantic notions of telling Rita how pretty she looks.

Before he can speak, Rita's hands latch on to the clasp on Raven's pants, working the buttons free and sliding everything down as far as his position will allow. Raven doesn't question her, standing from the bed and pushing his pants off the rest of the way.

"In my bag, there's a condom."

If Raven is shocked that Rita has been carrying contraceptives around since they left Zaphias, he says nothing and retrieves the foil-wrapped square.

"Estelle left them there, I think; I found them a few weeks ago."

"She anticipated…this?"

"I'll be speaking with her."

Raven files that piece of information away for later; He doesn't want to think about Estelle and condoms when Rita is naked on a bed and waiting for him. His fingers itch to touch her again, and it's very liberating to realize that Rita won't stop him, that she wants him here.

"Geez, you're slow," then suddenly Rita isn't on the bed anymore, she's standing and Raven is pushed against the pillows with Rita atop him. "We'll have to start over at this rate."

"Let me make it up to you," Raven whispers, and the edge in his voice makes Rita tremble. Raven hasn't touched her yet, not without anything between them, Rita realizes, and the anticipation is killing her.

"You'd better," Rita hisses into his ear, "or you get nothing."

If Raven calls her bluff he doesn't make it known, but the force at which slides two fingers into her entrance startles her, and Rita squeaks, arching up away from him. She's wet from before, a fact Raven capitalizes on, and Rita stifles another moan as the tempo increases.

Raven' shit-eating grin taunts her. "You talk a good game, yet you moan like that."

Another finger in and Rita's next noise is loud, very loud, and a string if expletives follow. "S-shit," Rita splutters, "why'd you make me do this myself if you're clearly so fucking capable?"

The grin just gets wider and Rita reaches between them, closes her hand around his erection and slides from the base up. This is where she falters; Rita has no clue how to make this pleasurable for Raven, and she hates the look of uncertainty that must cross her face.

Raven shuts his eyes, though, slows the fingers inside of her. Rita thinks she's distracting him, and gains confidence. "You like it?" It's half-taunt, half genuine question. She keeps her pace steady, but slow. Raven takes a shaky breathe, and opens his eyes.

"I do, but I think I'd like being inside you better," Raven's tone changes then, something stupidly tender in his voice that makes Rita's heart race in way that has nothing to do with lust. "Don't make me wait anymore."

"I was never making you wait," Rita objects, turning red, "that was all you."

"You're remembering it wrong," Raven teases back. Then, softer, "Are you ready?"

"Bring it, old man."

Raven reaches for the condom and slides it on. "How…?" he starts, having every intention of reversing their positions, but Rita shakes her head and tightens her knees around Raven's thighs.

"I'll stay here."

He knows the element of control Rita possesses over any given situation is important to her, and he doesn't want to sound like he knows better, or highlight Rita's inexperience, so Raven chooses his next works carefully.

"Rita, let's save that for round two." Her brow immediately furrows and Raven reaches up to smooth the crease away with his fingers. "Believe me, as much as I love the view…" he trails a hand down Rita's body, ghosting his fingers over the side of her breast, "trust me; you'll be more comfortable if we switch places."

Rita continues to glare, but eventually nods, "If you think you know better."

"Good."

She goes to move off him, but Raven stops her this time, pulling Rita close and rolling until she is pinned beneath him. It doesn't work exactly Raven intends, and they are tangled together awkwardly for a few seconds. Rita winces when Raven elbows her, but eventually they right themselves and Raven settles comfortably between her thighs.

"Are you ready?"

Rita glares again, reaches between them and grabs Raven's cock, "Been ready for a while now."

Raven chuckles, "It's not my practice to deny a lady."

"Could have fooled me," Rita bites back. If Raven doesn't do it soon, Rita is going to punch him and not feel the slightest remorse about the epic case of blue-balls he'll be suffering from. She can even convince herself that she doesn't need him for this, if she has to. He seems more than pleased to acquiesce, thought, and Rita has a white-knuckled death grip on his upper arms when he pushes into her. The intrusion feels weird, Rita's imagining of the event isn't like the actuality. Raven is hot and thick inside her, stretching her, and for the first few, but very prolonged seconds, Rita isn't sure if she likes the feeling.

"Talk to me," Raven voice is hot in her ear, but the tone is concerned, and he makes no movement, stilling inside Rita completely. The pause is not unwelcome, and Rita takes a few deep, shuttering breaths to orient herself.

"I-It doesn't hurt," Rita triumphantly congratulates her skill with her fingers for that fact. "…But, it's a strange feeling." She wriggles a bit; Raven sinks deeper and she doesn't miss his heavy exhale, or his fingers tensing against the pillow, like it's everything he has not to thrust into her with abandon.

"I'm glad," Raven replies, expression soft, but it's obvious he's restraining himself for her benefit, and Rita finds that she can't stand it.

She unwraps her fingers from Raven's upper arms, leaving pale imprints on his skin. Her hands forge a new path, sliding up Raven's chest to light on his shoulders. "Just move, go, whatever—this waiting is…" Rita finishes with a frustrated humph and pulls him toward her, swallowing any reply Raven might conjure.

Clearly adept at multitasking, Raven responds to Rita's kiss roughly, winding fingers through her hair and tugging. The roughness there isn't intentional, but Rita tightens her knees around his hips and Raven catalogues the reaction. Rita's warmth around his cock is exquisite, and he feels a certain reluctance as he pulls out to repeat the process. The return is slow, still giving Rita time to adjust, and Raven marvels the way, even as they're kissing, he can tell when Rita's breathe hitches as they join together. His second thrust is stronger, more confident; Raven stops kissing Rita to lock eyes with her. She stares back at him, defiant as ever, but Raven is mostly relieved that there's no pain in her expression.

"Is that the best you can do?" The words lack their usual bite, and she's grinning up at him like cat.

Rita's challenge incites a higher level of arousal in him, surprising Raven with its intensity. "No," he replies honestly, lacing his fingers with Rita's then pinning them to the pillow above her head. It occupies his hands, but then again, Raven is fairly confident he doesn't need him. The indignant gasp from Rita at being pinned down drives him further, and Raven's next push is harder yet.

The next sound Rita makes is significantly louder. The smug look on his face makes Rita want to punch him, but she can't choke back a series of staccato gasps when Raven increases the tempo. The fact that Raven has her hands pinned above her head should piss her off to no end, but instead she tightens her grip around his fingers like a lifeline.

"F-fuck." The angle changes, Rita slides her legs around Raven's back and grips Raven's fingers even tighter. If it hurts, Raven's expression doesn't indicate it.

"Is that good enough for you?" The concern vanishes from Raven's voice, replaced by a deep and needy force Rita finds echoed in her own mind.

"It—It'll do."

There's no reply, Raven focusing instead on driving Rita over the edge. He's never cared much about his own pleasure; past lovers had often remarked about it, but Raven made a point of never staying with one long enough to have to explain. Rita is different though, they're sharing, doing this together, and Raven doesn't feel any hesitance about enjoying it. Rita squirms under him and Raven doesn't stop moving until she gasps his name.

"Well, aren't you insatiable?"

Wanting to touch her, Raven releases Rita's fingers and falls against her, pressing their bodies together. Raven is heavy, but Rita doesn't mind the weight and wraps her arms around Raven's neck, fingers threading through his hair. He stills, eyes falling shut and resting his forehead against her shoulder.

"…Raven?"

The way Rita cards her fingers through his hair is tender; she almost wants to berate herself for being so sentimental. The frantic atmosphere from before vanishes. Rita shuts her eyes, trying to distinguish where Raven ends and she begins, only to conclude that it's difficult and immaterial.

"Did the old man get tired?" Rita tries, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. Raven snorts in acknowledgement, but doesn't move his head.

"I've still got some tricks left in me."

Raven raises his head to kiss her once more, sweetly this time. His thrusts resume; long, slow strokes that Rita finds almost more maddening than the frantic pace. There's a slow burn this way, a lazy but continuous clime. Rita tightens her legs around Raven's back, pulling him closer and deeper.

"Come for me." The words tumble out of Rita's mouth, and any rational part of her mind left is screaming in embarrassment. There's no room between them for inhibition though, and Rita can't stop herself from continuing, "Say my name, like before."

Her command triggers something in Raven, the snapping of a taught string, the last vestige of restraint, and he falls, tumbling headfirst over the edge. Raven calls her name, not in a low whisper but in exultation. The outburst confuses her, and the last thing Raven sees before the orgasm overtakes him is Rita's perplexed expression. Raven buries his head in her shoulder again, hips moving erratically as he rides it out.

Rita slides a hand down Raven's back, tracing soothing patterns into his clammy skin. The hair at the base of his neck is damp, and Rita brushes it away with her other hand. Even though it's over, she feels reluctant to let Raven leave her; this exact moment won't come again and she wants to savor it. Raven seems to understand, but eventually he pushes himself up and slides out of her.

Then Raven climbs off of her, leaving Rita chilled and with a sense of loss she won't admit. She closes her eyes, not wanting to face Raven feeling so vulnerable. There's some rustling and Raven gets up, the mattress dipping when he returns to her side.

"Your turn, darlin'."

Rita's eyes snap open. "My…turn? But I already…and we already…"

Grinning, Raven slides a hand up the inside of her thigh and Rita shivers. What was she, a black hole of lust? They'd just finished, and yet…

"Seconds for the pretty lady, of course."

Rita just gapes at him. His hand traces the outer folds of her pussy, dipping in to brush a finger against her clit. She is both confused and aroused and has no idea what to make of Raven's action. Confusion doesn't stop her hips from jerking as Raven rubs more fervently.

"W-why?"

"Why not? Maybe I just want to watch you come again."

There's nothing Rita can say to that, because fuck, two fingers dip inside her and there's so much moisture from the previous activities that they meet no resistance. She tender, so tender, but not even the slight discomfort from the stretching stops the deluge of arousal. Raven grins like he can read her mind and leans forward to suck on her collarbone again.

"You'll get to see it, then," Rita gasps out, grinding her hips against his fingers. Why was this more embarrassing than Raven watching her masturbate? He'd touched her before, but not with such intent. She'd never tried this back-to-back, thinking the act a perfunctory thing when she was frustrated.

Raven curls his fingers forward and pumps in and out. The gesture makes Rita wish his fingers were his cock and she tells him so, in a shuddering whisper against his hair.

"Give me a few hours and we can do that again."

"There's lots…of condoms, I mean."

"Remind me to send Estelle a thank you note."

Rita's laugh comes out half a moan, and Raven adds a third finger, pace increasing. She reaches between them and places her hand atop Raven's, adjusting his fingers to help put an end to her madness. "It-it works better if—"

"Prove it."

And Rita does, seconds later, clenching around his fingers and throwing her head back against the pillow. The intensity is ridiculous and Rita loses all ability to articulate her reaction, gratifying Raven instead with a sharp cry and ragged breathing.

"I—I'm good with that, anytime you feel like repeating it."

Raven laughs, kissing her temple and wiping his fingers on the comforter. He pitied the maids in the morning, but if they'd been there they would understand.

"Anytime, darlin'."

There a tug and Rita squawks as Raven pulls the comforter and sheets down. Her weight prevents his success, and she rolls off the bed. Her legs are unexpected wobbly, and she falls to her knees beside the bed. There's some soreness, and despite all the efforts, Rita is sure it will be more pronounced in the morning. When Raven finishes, Rita crawls under the covers and tucks them up to her chin.

"…My robe."

Raven looks at her quizzically, but hands over the offensively pink garment regardless, "Not sleepin' in the buff?"

The robe vanishes under the blankets and Rita slips it around her body, tying the belt securely. "It's uncomfortable," she admits. Raven doesn't reply. Rita follows him with her eyes as he slides back into his loose-fitting pants. She can't say if Raven would have done that regardless, but the gesture seems considerate and Rita appreciates it.

He doesn't get into bed with her immediately though, instead teetering at the edge, looking like Rita is about to banish him from the room, which is completely perplexing given the level of intimacy between them over the last hour. Maybe, for Raven, this constitutes a different, less familiar type of intimacy.

"Get in."

Raven's eyes widen when Rita tosses the blankets back a second time and reaches to twine their fingers together. She wants to tell him that if she has her way, Raven will not be escaping her bed for a long, long time. That sounds ridiculous, though, so Rita settles for pulling on Raven's arm until he complies, flipping off the lamp and settling next to her under the blankets.

Cuddling is always uncomfortable, but she moves closer under the blankets she can feel the heat of Raven's body. That's close enough; she vividly remembers Estelle burrowing into her back every time they'd shared a bed, and how she'd stared blankly at the wall for hours trying to sleep as Estelle tangled their legs together. It might be different with Raven, but Rita doubts it. Raven doesn't move closer, but he doesn't let go of her hand, either. This suits Rita just fine, and she lets her eyes fall shut.

"Thank you." Raven's voice is a whisper, and despite prior thoughts on the subject, Rita lets Raven pull her into a tight hug. Suddenly there's a head buried against her chest and it's just like Estelle and Rita laughs, settling her arms around Raven.

"I don't like cuddling," Rita admits.

Raven nuzzles his head against the front of her robe until his forehead rests against her skin, "For someone who hates it, you're pretty good at it."

"You're just like Estelle," Rita can almost see the lesbian fantasy swirling through Raven's brain.

"I don't know if Estelle could—" There's a teasing edge in his voice.

Rita cuts him off, thwaping him on the back, "She could, whatever you're thinking, she could."

The laugh vibrates against her chest, and Raven pulls her closer, like he's trying to merge them together. It works, in a strange, inexplicable way; Rita hears his heartbeat matching her own, and suddenly sleeping this way, tangled together, isn't so unpleasant.

It's also not unpleasant when, later, after having slept a while, Raven awakens her with a kiss and pulls her atop him.

The two of them are eating lunch; more sandwiches from the inn because Rita discovered she covets the egg salad and has since eaten it for the last three meals. Estelle and Yuri, with Karol as a surprising tagalong, arrived earlier that morning. Rita is determined to corner Estelle later and demand an explanation for the elaborate plan of getting them to travel together.

"How're you feelin'?" Raven doesn't elaborate, but the meaning is easy enough to infer.

Rita shifts slightly on the bench, testing the level of discomfort before replying, "Better, today."

Raven looks relieved and takes another bite of his sandwich.

"Although…it makes me wonder how Estelle handles both Yuri and Flynn," Rita takes another bite of egg salad, "One seems exhausting enough."

Raven pauses mid-chew and Rita tilts her head, "Need me to make your food bite size, old man?"

"Both?' Raven parrots Rita.

"Are your ears bad, too?"

"As in…two?"

"Yeah," Rita grabs a second sandwich, "like…sexually."

"Like…at the same time?"

Rita scowls, "You make it sound like you don't know."

The dumbstruck expression on Raven's face speaks volumes.

"You mean...you didn't know?!" And then Rita is laughing hysterically, so hard that she has to put her sandwich back in the basket and bury her head on the table.

"H-how long?" Raven sounds like he's having as much trouble processing the information as if Rita had told him Estelle was having sex with Ba'ul.

"Months," Rita answer, voice shaking with laughter and muffled by her arms.

"But, how does Flynn, of all people, get two when I've never even—"

"Watch it, old man." It's obvious Raven is jesting, but Rita still feels a twinge of jealousy at the idea. She pulls her head up and glares.

"Ah, Rita darlin', I don't mean…you know I only have eyes for you."

Rita scoffs, "Maybe Yuri would let you join if you ask."

She feels slightly pleased as Raven realizes the mechanics of that and looks horrified.

"You planned it."

Two days later, Rita corners Estelle outside of the inn. She'd rehearsed the conversation in her mind, meaning to sound stern, maybe even a little pissed at being pulled like a puppet on a string. Instead, her words come out neutral—a statement of fact.

"Whatever are you talking about?" Estelle's smile is serene and innocent, but Rita doesn't miss the mischievous way her lip quirks up, like she's stifling laughter.

"The condoms!" Rita's voice is significantly louder than she means it to be, and the scandalized maid who'd serviced her room two nights ago looks up from her cart and scuttles away. She feels bad, it was their fault for not putting up the do not disturb placard, but the maid had her own issue if she couldn't handle walking in on two people sleeping.

"So something did happen!" Estelle's cover blown, she grabs Rita's hands and clutches them tightly.

"I—I never said that!" Her voice raises a pitch, and the damned blush heating her face might as well spell the words "I HAD SEX WITH RAVEN." The giddy expression on Estelle's face, like it's her birthday and every calendar holiday all at once, makes Rita want to punch her. Not that she would ever really punch Estelle.

Estelle tightens her grip and spins Rita around once, stopping to pull Rita into a bone-crushing hug. "You don't have to say anything! You're glowing."

"From mortification," Rita supplies.

In part, Rita in sure Estelle means well, but being open about her personal life is hard, especially something as personal as her relationship with Raven. But Estelle did have a hand in it, and Rita feels grateful even if she can't express it.

"Are you happy?" Estelle's voice is softer this time, slightly unsure, like maybe her meddling had done something negative.

"Yes!" Rita answers immediately, "It's just…talking about it…" Rita shifts her eyes away from Estelle's face.

Estelle drags Rita to a nearby table and suddenly there's coffee and cakes and Estelle is whispering conspiratorially, "Tell me everything!" Rita has no idea how Estelle manifests food and drink with such speed. She is also stupidly romantic, fueled by storybooks and the fact that she managed to wrangle not one, but two men.

And Rita has no idea what Estelle wants to know.

She had never considered herself particularly inarticulate, but Estelle looked so excited and Rita feels totally lost. "Um," Rita starts poorly, "I was pissed, really pissed, at first. Especially when Ioder framed it as 'a chaperone,'" Rita furrows her brow at the thought, "But traveling with Raven wasn't bad. It was actually fun…later. Then it was weird, and then now…" Rita takes a huge bite of cake to stop herself from continuing. It tastes vaguely nutty and she wonders offhandedly if everything in Halure tastes perfect.

The smile Estelle gives her is a knowing one, like she's filling in all the gaps in the story that Rita can't say. Rita half expects her to start waxing poetic about the power of love (it wouldn't be unprecedented), but instead Estelle's green eyes meet hers and she asks seriously, "Rita, do you love him?"

"E—Estelle!"

Silence greets Rita in response; Estelle serenely folds her hands around her mug, staring Rita down.

"I—I do, I think."

Feelings weren't scientifically calculable; the very reason Rita spent years avoiding them. Traveling with everyone had forced a head-on collision with innumerable feelings, and even a year later, Rita finds herself at a loss when confronted with talking about her feelings. Rita knows that she loves Estelle, the girl is her closest friend and confidante, and there's not a second thought in Rita's mind that she'd kill if necessary to protect Estelle. Rita thinks it morbid to calculate love with personal sacrifice, but the two are twined together in her mind, and she would absolutely do anything for Raven that she would for Estelle.

Estelle still remains silent, sipping at her coffee. It should be like Rita is having a conversation with herself, but Estelle's gestures, weirdly enough, function as replies.

"I do. I mean, I don't think, I know I do."

"Does he know?"

Rita sips at her own mug to hide her smirk; she'd spent a lot of time with Raven in the past two days, but not a lot of it involved talking. Well, some talking, but not talking about that.

"I tried once, before, but he cut me off," the memory stings, even though it's not relevant anymore, a fact Rita knows. She's still afraid to tell him though, afraid of the possibility of rejection.

"Try again," Estelle's expression changes to one that Rita finds openly frightening, "or else."

"Estelle is making me do this."

Raven wishes he could look confused, but Estelle's antics are nothing new, so the first words out of Yuri's mouth don't really surprise him. Doesn't mean Raven knows what the hell Estelle has planned, something involving suffering, probably.

"What's she makin' you do?"

Yuri sighs heavily, fiddling with the sword at his hip. Raven eyes it warily, like Yuri is the Estelle-appointed defender of Rita's chastity. Oh shit, he'd been kidding, but now that he thinks about it, it doesn't seem that far-fetched.

"Grill you, mostly," Yuri replies nonchalantly.

"To a tasty crisp," Raven mutters under his breath, leaning against a nearby tree.

Shrugging, Yuri elaborates, "She just wants to make sure you're treating Rita right. I personally think you'd be dead by Rita's hand if you weren't, but what do I know?"

Raven has to agree, laughing at Yuri's assessment. Rita would have his balls on a platter, probably in a blaze of glory, if Raven wasn't treating her well. His ego puffs slightly when he thinks of just how well he's treating Rita.

"You don't have to worry 'bout that."

Hell, he sounds like an old pervert even to his own ears.

"Has Rita made you a man yet?"

Raven levels a glare Yuri, but Yuri looks utterly nonplussed. The conversation with Rita yesterday played in his mind on loop. How the hell had Yuri managed to score both Estelle and the commandant? The three of them functioning in a relationship still confused the hell out of him. Maybe it's him who should be grilling Yuri instead.

"I was a man before you were born, youngin'."

Yuri scoffs by way of reply, "That just makes you old, besides, trying handling two, then get back to me."

"So, was it Flynn or Estelle that made you a man?" For the love of everything, Raven doesn't actually want the answer to that question. Comparing bedpost notches with Yuri was not high (or even on) his list of recreational activities.

"Flynn," Yuri replies immediately, and unwanted mental images greet Raven.

"So, there's really some truth to not askin' questions you don't want the answers to."

Yuri flashes him a victorious smile, and Raven plans to immediately apply that piece of advice to his life.

"Really, though," Yuri continues, sobering up, "I think Rita can take care of herself, but Estelle is concerned. She's probably cornering Rita and giving her the third degree as we speak."

Estelle's concept of interrogation is markedly more…focused than Yuri's begrudging one. Raven pities Rita just a bit for whatever questions Estelle is asking her.

"I'm not gonna hurt her, never on purpose," Raven replies, "I don't even understand why she's botherin' with me, but—"

"It's for her to decide who she bothers with," Yuri cuts in, tone like his words come from experience. "Just be grateful, old man." Yuri claps him on the shoulder.

"I am." Raven can't even begin to articulate the gratitude he feels towards Rita; even if very little has been fixed and every time he looks inside himself, there's miles and miles to go to rectify every fucked up thing, and some things are so twisted and broken there's no hope for them. "She cuts through the bullshit." The fact that he can even call his personal demons bullshit feels like an amazing triumph.

"I'd hold onto her, then." Yuri advice is sound, and Raven doesn't need to be told twice.

Raven is used to having his fingers in as many pies as possible, so being the last to know something bugs him to no end. The only other person he's sure doesn't know about Estelle, Yuri, and Flynn is Karol. The boy is young yet, and Raven finds himself genuinely curious about his interpretation of the situation, if any.

"Does Karol know about Estelle's…arrangement?"

Rita looks confused for a second, and glances up from yet another egg salad sandwich. Raven completely misses her devious grin before she replies, "No, I don't think so."

Unsure of how Estelle and Yuri, the present two-thirds of their weird triangle, will feel about being outed, Raven corners Karol just before dinner.

"Karol, have Estelle, Yuri, or Flynn done anything that confused you recently?"

Karol, having the utmost respect and admiration for Raven, tries very hard not to look perplexed. "Umm, no?"

He almost has a second thought about telling Karol; but he was approaching puberty, and was bound to encounter unusual relationships. Raven tries very hard not to think of his own relationship as unusual and in need of explanation, but gives up immediately. It seems the company he keeps is destined for such oddities.

"Well, Karol, there are different types a' relationships, you know, and as you get older, you'll see…"

What the hell is he even saying?

Karol still looks supremely confused, and Raven feels a twinge of guilt for even attempting to explain this.

"What I mean is, sometimes, two adults, or…three, even—"

Rita, lurking in the corner all this time, can't stifle a very, very audible snicker. Raven's head swivels in her direction, and he manages to school is features into a glare.

Karol, on the other hand, seems to have put two and two together.

"Oh, Raven, you mean like how they're together, the three of them?"

Rita laughs even harder, having called Yuri and Estelle over to witness Raven's embarrassment.

"Y—Yes," Raven replies shakily, Rita's continued laughter answering the question forming in his mind.

He'd just been pranked, hadn't he?

"Oh, that's old news," Karol shrugs, "Did you not know?"

"Y—yes! Whaddya take this old man for? I know everything. Eyes in all places, you know," Raven's always thought his poker face was excellent, but the laughter from the other three kills his credibility.

"You should have seen his face when I told him," Rita chimes in, voice muffled by her snickering.

Raven makes a promise with himself to get her back for this.

"I'm sorry," are the first words out of Rita's mouth when the two of them are back in her room. "It was hilarious, that you never noticed when even oblivious Karol knew. So I won't apologize for laughing, but still…I guess it was kinda mean."

The apology is appreciated, but Raven isn't really mad. "You kinda shoved Karol under the cart there, though, Rita darlin'. He looked real confused." The saving grace is at least Rita's snickering stopped him before he could continue and mortify both of them even more.

"That was the icing on the cake."

Raven chuckles and seats himself on the edge of Rita's bed. His bed next door has gone untouched since their arrival; if the housekeeping noticed, no one ever made comment. Rita thinks that her glare on the first morning probably set everyone in their places, and hasn't thought of it since.

"How…" Rita starts, unsure of where to go, "Seriously though, how do you think they do it?"

The raised eyebrow that greets her tells Rita that she needs to try that again.

"Pervert!" The insult is half-hearted; Rita adores every stupid perverted bone in his body, some in ways that make her blush thinking about them. "I mean…emotionally," she makes a gesture with her hands to finish her explanation, "like, even between two people, there's so much…"

"Yeah." Raven agrees with her; his own heart (using the term, even figuratively, drums up feelings he'd rather keep buried) is such a stupidly complicated labyrinth of old wounds that sharing things with just Rita is often a struggle. "You're enough of a handful," he tells her instead.

Rita lets out a much undignified snort, "You like it."

"I do," Raven agrees, invading Rita's personal space until their noses touch, "You know, even after a month, it's strange that I can just—"

She shuts him up with her lips, pressed against his for just a moment before pulling back.

"Other people knowing is strange," Rita adds, "Estelle knew before we did. Outside, though, when I look at you I just think of," there's the slightest of blushes on her checks and she looks down at the bed, "….being in here."

"I always want to drag you back here," Raven admits, and to Rita he almost sounds guilty.

That feelings were stupid, foolish things was a fact Rita had decided long ago. She used to have too few, but now her heart was brimming over with them, and it scared her. Travelling with Raven was one thing; the inn in Halure was another, but what about outside? "We'll leave here in a few days," she finally says, and it comes out sounding much sadder.

Their eyes meet, and Raven's expression mirrors hers; there's nothing terribly special about the inn in Halure, but they will both be sad to leave.

"I have a room in Dahngrest, at the guild," Raven offers after a much too long silence. Rita can only assume he means the Brave Vesperia headquarters, and can't follow his line of logic.

"…I do, too. It's above yours."

"You might think the décor's ugly; lotsa this," he tugs on his purple jacket that Rita still finds hideous, awaiting the day she has enough influence to ask him to burn it, "but the bed's big, so…"

Oh. Oh. Rita mentally smacks herself.

"…Could I convince you to change the comforter?" In reality, Rita doesn't give two shits if the freaking walls are painted purple.

"You could maybe persuade me," Raven voice has the edge she's become quite fond of, and she's not surprised when he pulls her into his lap.

The morning all those weeks ago feels almost like another lifetime, but the words she'd tried to speak still rattle around in her brain, clamoring to get out. Rita had thought she'd loved him then, but realization now is stronger. She feels different about it, more mature and like she's in command of her feelings. There were still too many of them, rushing and crashing around her, but it was heady and exciting, despite being frightening.

"Do you remember what I tried to tell you before?" Rita's voice doesn't waver, fingers tracing the line of Raven's jaw in a route she has memorized by now.

Raven's too-serious eyes meet hers and Rita almost looks away, but she's determined.

"If you cut me off this time, I'll end you."

"Comin' from you, that's no idle threat," Raven catches her hand in his own.

"You're a stupid, perverted, idiotic old man," the insults, half-hearted and meaningless as they are, give her the momentum to continue, "but for some reason, probably because I'm just as big of an idiot, I love you." Rita looks away, embarrassed and relieved simultaneously. She's never said those words to anyone, not a parent or a friend, and certainly not a lover.

Raven wants desperately to respond, the words well up in his mind over and over, but he can't articulate it yet, admiring Rita's ever constant ability to express herself. He gathers her close instead, pressing foreheads together and finding comfort in the way her bangs tickle his cheeks.

"Wait for me."

As Rita knew it would, their time in Halure ended; Raven heading to Dahngrest and Rita to Zaphias, each to make a report of their findings. Rita kisses him goodbye and tries to ignore Estelle's delighted squeal and Yuri's knowing chuckle.

"See you in Dahngrest, old man."

Raven smiles back and silently hopes the time passes quickly.

Surprisingly, it does, and within a fortnight Rita arrives at the Brave Vesperia headquarters in Dahngrest, forgoing the extra flight of stairs to her room and flinging the door open to Raven's. Knocking doesn't occur to her, and the book Raven is reading slides out of his hand and lands on the floor with a thud. Rita flings her satchel down on the bed and undoes the buckles keeping it closed.

"There's more upstairs."

Raven nods silently, picking up the book and placing in on a small table, "We'll…get it later."

"…Where should I?" Rita gestures to the pile of crumpled clothes spilling out of the bag.

"The wardrobe, I just thought, if ya…I cleaned it out a bit, is all."

Rita nods, pulling open the heavy wooden doors to reveal a half-empty wardrobe. Raven is next to her instantly, "Later," he repeats, guiding Rita to his—no their bed, until she sits on the edge. Rita runs her fingers over the silky purple fabric of the duvet.

"This color is still hideous."