Written Wonderland

Mizu might have smiled when Lance abruptly covered his mouth to stifle a moan if her lips weren't otherwise occupied. Instead, she focused on her methodical movements and all the ways Lance's body signaled its approach toward climax--the sharpness of Lance's inhales, the way Lance's hand tightened in her hair and pulled her closer, his steadily building muscle tension.

And then, the shudders. Mizu met them in stride, letting Lance's fluids pool in her mouth a moment before she guided them down her throat with a swallow, her mouth slowing its movements so as to not cause Lance pain. She was impressed that Lance managed not to make much noise, though his staccato breathing gave her no reason to believe he had not enjoyed himself. She didn't want to move her mouth off him entirely, though. She found herself reluctant to part from his length.

She retracted her hands, bringing them closer to Lance's hips and squeezing whatever pent up pleasure remained there. And, she swallowed again against Lance's length, though she didn't exactly need to, relishing the sensations of her mouth and throat undulating around Lance.

And, then, finally, she gently sat up, wiping her mouth with two fingers and looking over Lance's spent body with a quiet but radiating smile of contentment. Whatever came next, she was terribly glad she had done this. Pleasure had been difficult to come by in this life, but she was so grateful when it graced her in moments such as this.

Mizu accepted him wholly, her tongue and throat both warmly undulating around him to gently coax every last shudder his body wanted to spill. As he began to relax, Mizu's hands moved to his hips and squeezed, a gentle massage that managed to release one last cluster of shudders from him before his body truly melted into a puddle there on the floor. Mizu swallowed around his length, and a long, shaky exhale hinted at the moan he might have liked to release, the rest of his body too spent by then to express the pleasure her gentle motion granted him.

Finally, she withdrew, and Lance couldn't help a quiet sigh, already missing the warmth of her, though everything else about the drape of his limbs and serenity in his expression betrayed how contented he truly was - he just liked being greedy. It took him a moment, but eventually his expression curled back into a slight smirk - albeit blissfully droopy - as his eyes looked up to find Mizu's. She was once again beholding him, and he felt the briefest flare of anxiety as he mentally checked in on the slightly askew pose he had melted into, but the smile on her face - however slight - was positively radiant, and also contagious, brightening Lance's expression and lending him just enough energy to delicately raise one of his hands toward her, issuing a silent invitation to come lay with him, if she pleased.

Lance was a sight as his muscles fell away from him in an awkwardly askew sort of way and his eyes were heavy with bliss. Mizu didn't fully realize she had been staring until Lance gave her a lazy smirk and lifted his arm in what she assumed was an invitation to lie beside him on the floor of the tent. How absurd that they had ended up here. Even from where Mizu sat, she could see the underside of the map table--not a sight she had seen from anywhere other than her cot. And, when she did manage to get some sleep, she had frequently been far too tired to care about the scenery of her tent from that angle.

Was it any more absurd to lie beside him now? She looked at him blankly, assessing for a moment, the chill air seeping through the tent and reminding her of her bare skin and tightening her nipples. Finally, she lay down, settling into the space between Lance's chest and arm with her head near his collarbone. They had already done so much together--there was no reason to withhold from him now. Her legs curled around his leg closest to her in search of warmth and contact, and she placed a hand on the center of his chest, using her thumb to stroke slow, short lines across.

For a moment, she watched the candlelight move and flicker, and then she nestled a little further into Lance and closed her eyes. She knew that, at some point, she would need a blanket. At some point, she should put her clothes back on in case she was needed tonight. At some point, she would need to send Lance away--gods knew how. She knew--or at least suspected--that Captain Kade had her tent watched.

But, that was all for later. For now, she could lay against the man who had whispered her first name in a moment of pleasure and flex her tongue around in her mouth to find the taste of him where it lingered. That was more than enough.

Mizu remained seated for a moment, still beholding Lance with a smile but giving him just enough time to begin to feel anxious. Was it too sentimental of an invitation, when they both knew he'd be leaving tomorrow? But, in some ways, didn't that make it all the safer? Why not just bask together, knowing that tomorrow would sort itself out?

Finally, Mizu did lay down beside him, nestling her body against his, her head on his chest as his arm comfortably draped over her back, and Lance let out a tellingly deep sigh, relief adding body and warmth to the breath. She went even further, pleasantly surprising Lance as she curled a leg around his. He hummed very softly and closed his eyes to take in all the sensations - the warmth of her body against his, the pleasant tingles in his chest as her head nuzzled against him, the soothing comfort as her thumb gently stroked back and forth over its resting place on his chest. His own thumb echoed the gesture on her back by her shoulder blade, his fingers sometimes pressing softly into her skin to feel the curves of muscle and bone beneath, and perhaps also to share a pulse of something with her, although he couldn't for the life of him say what.

He never did well for long in silence, though. As much as he wanted to just be with the warmth of entanglement with Mizu, there was still a chill in the air, and as his body started to tense a little against the cold, it also excavated the anxiety he'd set aside about tomorrow: he still didn't have an offering for her. Should he have saved himself for her? Or, was this itself worshipful? He had no notion of how jealous or compersive the goddess of desire would be, and even Evan hadn't been much help on that front. Though, then again... Evan himself had certainly gotten up to something with Xavier earlier, had he not?

Lance couldn't help a soft chuckle as the thought poured a potent mixture of relief and amusement into him; it quickly erupted into bubbles that simply had to escape. He kept it quiet, but that aspect of self-control made it that much more difficult to stop, and he brought his free hand up to his mouth as though that would help him reel it in. He worried a little what Mizu would think, but ultimately that didn't matter - certainly not with additional contemplations of what Mizu and Evan might each think about the other's recent tousles.

The contentment and the skin contact might have tempted Mizu toward drifting off were it not for the cold air. Still, her lids were heavy, and she didn't want to open them lest that open the door to other thoughts as well. She didn't want to go back to being Commander Miyamoto just yet.

But regardless, Lance laughed--albeit quietly--and his whole chest vibrated and moved, causing her to bounce a little. She looked up at him, her head still under his collarbone. He was, undeniably, beautiful. His skin and hair was golden and almost shining in the candlelight. She waited for a moment, thinking he might elaborate. A little petulantly, she said, "What is it?" but there was a lilt in her tone at the end of the phrase that betrayed some measure of how contagious Lance's mirth was.

She had some fear that he was laughing at her expense, and shame began to creep in from the peripheries of her mind. Had he... taken advantage of her somehow? Had she misplaced her trust in him?

But when she looked at him--really looked at him--she found that hard to believe, and her face softened, willing to momentarily suspend judgment.

"What is it?"

A perfectly reasonable question, but one Lance found difficult to answer. He chuckled silently a few more breaths before finally reeling it in, sighing heavily as he covered his eyes with his hand. A grin was still plastered clear across his face, but anxiety was starting to roil in his chest - had he dug himself into a hole just then? How could he possibly answer to get himself out of it? There was some temptation to decide that at this juncture it didn't matter, but, no, even if things were destined to end here, he didn't want to feel like he'd truly been an asshole about it; he had to try to muster some reply... just, one that didn't incriminate his friend too badly, he supposed.

"Sorry, sorry," he mumbled, dragging his hand down his face until it slipped off his chin and draped itself back onto the floor beside him, his eyes blinking up at the ceiling of the tent almost as though beholding the stars.

"Just... contemplating some of the absurdities of Evan's situation. And mine, I suppose."

With a small, awkward shrug, Lance tilted his head to flick his gaze down to Mizu, brows drawn up in a sheepish apology above his crooked grin. It was an awkward position for his neck to hold, though, so he returned to laying back down and blinking up, watching the flickers of candlelight dance against the fabric of the tent.

Lance chuckled a few more times, quietly and under his breath. She watched as he brought his hand to cover his eyes like he dreaded telling her. Was it really so terrible? His hand slid down and off his face dramatically, then, and Mizu settled back onto his chest, not wanting to press the issue. She wasn't entitled to his thoughts by any means, and she didn't want to shatter the tenuous peacefulness they had managed together.

"Sorry, sorry," he mumbled, and she found herself wishing she hadn't asked. "Just... contemplating some of the absurdities of Evan's situation. And mine, I suppose." She nodded against his chest. It wasn't a satisfying answer, but she wasn't sure what she had expected. She was none to eager to return to those thoughts--thoughts of what to do next--either, so she let the silence stand for some time.

Using her free hand, she stroked up one side of his abdomen slowly and softly as though to purposely elicit shivers. Would it be so terrible if he stayed the rest of the night? They could get under her blankets and...

Mizu's ears perked up as she heard running footsteps approaching. She stiffened like a board against Lance as every muscle in her body went tense. She lifted her head to try to get a sense of what was happening and was halfway to her feet when she heard Captain Fujiwara outside say, "Commander!" It was rushed enough to send a shiver of terror down Mizu's spine even though Fujiwara had kept her voice down. "Permission to enter."

"No," Mizu said instinctively, afraid that Yukiko would barge in if she didn't respond quickly. The commander could not spare even a look at Lance. She did not want to regret everything they had done. Instead, she ran to her clothes and began putting them on, her mind firing rapidly.

This has to be about the prince.

Mizu should have gotten dressed earlier when she had the chance. She hadn't been prepared, and it was likely that seconds counted here.

"Give me a moment," the commander said a little loudly, pulling up her pants and throwing a tank over her torso. She wasn't going to make it through her armor.

Grabbing a tie for her hair, she began hastily scrubbing it back from her face. She didn't bother with the bun but had it in a disorderly high ponytail instead. She briefly considered meeting Fujiwara outside the tent, but that would look equally suspicious, especially given Mizu's current state. And, if this really was urgent, she couldn't afford to stand on decorum.

Mizu hastily threw a blanket in Lance's direction and then, placing a hand momentarily to her forehead, she closed her eyes and prayed to all the gods that Yukiko would be forgiving and understanding about this.

"Permission granted," Mizu said and then looked at Lance with her eyebrows pulled slightly together in sympathy.

((Mizu is going to work on putting her armor on relatively immediately after this.))

"No."

Miyamoto's reply took Yukiko aback; her hand had already been reaching forward to push the tent flap aside, but she withdrew it, balling it over her chest instead as she debated whether to push inside regardless - did Mizu underestimate the alarm in her voice?

"Give me a moment," the commander added, and Yukiko felt more confident that her alarm had properly registered. Still, her heart pounded in her chest, her mind running a million miles a minute over whether she could have possibly prevented the situation she was here to report.

"Permission granted."

Yukiko exhaled a sigh of relief and pushed inside. Her eyes landed quickly on Miyamoto, certainly noting the commander's lack of armor and hasty ponytail, but she didn't think much of it. Seemed the commander had finally taken the opportunity to get comfortable to sleep tonight, which was good - they'd had to be vigilant for far too long, and had every reason to hope that tonight would be uneventful.

It wasn't until Yukiko had already drawn in a breath to speak that she realized someone else was also in the tent. She spared just a quick glance to the man on the floor by the commander's bedroll - Lieutenant Holloway, stark naked, a wide awkward grin sprawled across his face as he tried to strike a sufficiently modest pose given his state of dress. Oh, gods, if circumstances were different, Yukiko would have had a good, hearty laugh, but alas, there was no time. Instead, she let her initial breath exhale lightly, sparing Lance her own brief crooked grin. Then, just as quickly, she inhaled again, her expression returning to fully serious as she pulled her attention back to the commander.

"The prince is gone," she said, both haste and somberness in her voice. "I've sent scouts to search for him, but fear that sorcery is in play. The sentries outside the tent didn't see anyone come or go. One soldier was inside the tent with Ponderance and is also missing."

((OOC: I think by the end of Yukiko's report Lance will have collected himself enough to finally start getting dressed lol))

Mizu looked toward Fujiwara as she came in, hoping for a split second that Yukiko might just entirely miss Lance's presence, but of course, he was in the middle of the floor, and Fujiwara caught sight of him in short order. To Fujiwara's credit, though, she only grinned crookedly for a second and let out a breath before she sobered and delivered her report.

"The prince is gone." Mizu wasn't entirely sure what she had expected, but that news was far worse than anything she could have anticipated. Gone? Entirely gone? Fujiwara continued, saying "I've sent scouts to search for him but fear that sorcery is in play. The sentries outside the tent didn't see anyone come or go. One soldier was inside the tent with Ponderance and is also missing." Mizu's face went stonily blank as her eyes darted from side to side, surveying the ground.

She pulled a long-sleeve tunic over her head and then picked up her leather chest plate and began strapping it on, unable to stop from chastising herself about taking it off in the first place. It didn't sound like there was anything to be done in the moment, especially if Fujiwara had already sent scouts to look for the prince, but Mizu found herself still wanting to feel ready for whatever happened next. If it was an act of sorcery, who was to say they wouldn't take others? Who was to say they wouldn't try to take her? A shiver ran down her spine at the thought. Who would lead this civil war, then? Captain Kade? Would he be able to keep everything together?

She owed Fujiwara something, though. As she thought, she tried to ignore Lance entirely as he awkwardly attempted to collect his clothes while protecting his modesty with the blanket but failed to prevent herself from looking his direction. She resisted the urge to press her fingers to her forehead in exasperation.

"Do we still have the communication device Ponderance made? Or did that get taken with him?" the commander asked, trying to think of a way to get a handle on the situation. She was aware that Lance--Lieutenant Holloway--was learning far more about the situation than she would have preferred, but again, she couldn't afford to stand on decorum in a situation as dire as this. And, she reminded herself, Lance would still be leaving the following evening.

Wait, was it possible that Dehaljadrun had taken Ponderance and the soldier inside the tent? But why?

Even if she had, could Mizu fault the goddess for taking back her own son from people who ostensibly kidnapped him? Gods, what a mess. Not so long ago, their path seemed extraordinarily clear. Easy, even. How quickly it all fell to pieces.

((Rewinding a lil just cuz I feel like shifting perspectives lol))

Lance felt Mizu nod against his chest, and he sighed softly, a slight buzz of anxiety thickening the air. He may have averted the worst, but where did they go from here?

In a quick cascade, that anxiety tightened into something more tangible: running footsteps approaching, Mizu's body tensing, Fujiwara's voice asking permission to enter, far more agitated than Lance was used to hearing it.

"No," Mizu responded, and for half a blink, Lance felt surprised. Mizu was already to her feet and hastily re-dressing before he answered his own absolutely air-headed question: he was the reason she didn't want Fujiwara to come in. Well, that, and her state of dress, but, well, the two were related, after all.

"Give me a moment," Mizu added, her tone of voice different - both more familiar and less. Lance only barely managed to prop himself up on his arms as he watched her pull her hair back, a sinking feeling in his stomach weighing him down and leaving him disoriented, almost dizzy. Mizu finally met Lance's eyes then, just enough sympathy in her drawn-together brow to tug at something sharp in Lance's chest.

"Permission granted."

And oh, gods, Lance was still naked.

His eyes darted over to Fujiwara as she came in, and he instinctively gave her a sheepish grin as he attempted to strike a playful yet modest pose. Gods, what else was he supposed to do? Fujiwara, bless her, offered Lance a crooked grin, and got right down to business with the commander.

"The prince is gone," she said, both haste and somberness in her voice. "I've sent scouts to search for him, but fear that sorcery is in play. The sentries outside the tent didn't see anyone come or go. One soldier was inside the tent with Ponderance and is also missing."

Eesh. Lance sobered considerably and tossed his gaze nervously back to Mizu--Miyamoto, rather. She was back to inscrutable - as though he'd deviated much from that to begin with - and she diligently pulled her armor on as she pondered Fujiwara's news.

Lance finally collected himself to start looking around for his clothes, and charted a mental course on how to get them as inconspicuously as possible. He at least had a good feeling that Fujiwara wasn't scandalized - certainly not the way that, say, Miller would be - but, that didn't mean he wanted to go about just casually flashing the captain right there in front of the commander, with such serious gods-damned news weighing in the air.

Trying to move slowly and gracefully, Lance tugged a blanket from Mizu's bedroll to attempt to cover himself before he began sidling over to his clothes in a crouch, but grace was not with him in this moment. He knew he fumbled, his face red-hot about it, but he avoided looking at either Fujiwara or Mizu--Miyamoto--to keep at least some plausible deniability in his brain.

"Do we still have the communication device Ponderance made?" Miyamoto asked, "Or did that get taken with him?"

Lance couldn't help glancing over his shoulder at that, surprised and, he must admit, a little bit thrilled to be learning something he hadn't previously known. What was this communication device? The prince had made it? But, before too many more questions could swirl around in his mind, the dampening weight of his departure quieted them; what good would knowing any of that do him? He was starting to feel a little melancholy about all the action he'd miss out on, but... well, surely it would still be nothing compared to the company of a goddess. ...Right?

"Unfortunately that is missing as well." Fujiwara replied soberly. Lance finally decided to stop fumbling with the blanket and just pull his underwear up in one motion, figuring that the captain and commander had more pressing things to pay attention to than a brief flash of his full nudity.