The Training Ground
Nieve met her equal in enthusiasm in Shirvan; his breath hot, a low growl in his throat. Shirvan's firm body pressed against hers as he responded in kind, kissing Nieve with wild abandon, pulling her as much as she pushed him.
Once they broke off and Nieve had snuggled against him, he stretched a little to accomodate her. "I have a few ideas, mysel-" Shirvan started to reply, his voice low as his right hand traveled up Nieve's back, seeking to trap her in the hug of his powerful arm; but then the woman was gone, and, not wanting to look the fool, he lowered his hands again and pushed himself off of the ground effortlessly.
Apparently her light-born brother had little difficulties with his new distinct lack of belt, his clothes quite form-fitting and his pants not in danger of falling down anytime soon. "Oh," he said with slightly ragged breath still, his eyes smoldering with their intensity. "I certainly can, but are you sure you want to? It looks I've stolen your breath away, when you had just barely managed to catch it."
Yet, even as he spoke mischief, Shirvan suddenly revealed a blade in hand -- Nieve's own training sword! That the godling had managed to keep track of it during their encounter on the ground and held it now seemed inconceivable, yet there it was.
"Sweet sister," Shirvan replied with a brief smile after Dasque had spoken her greetings, "you could dress in rags and would still stand as the most dazzling in the room." He looked her up and down briefly, then added. "Though I prefer you in your armor over rags, I think. It suits you well."
The lean man leaned against the wall next to him, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he stood before the door; he had never asked to enter, and wouldn't, unless it was offered to him. "I wish it was over already," he began, changing the subject, "I can hardly wait to get going, courtesy of our dear father." An ironic smile was on his lips -- Dasque knew, for Shirvan kept little secrets from her, that the test placed upon him by their creator had left its marks, a wound of betrayal in her twin's heart, who had thought Baz'auran had taken him into his confidence. He had learned only too quickly that it had simply been another test.