[ P ] Don't look too hard

Any Jacobite in his right mind would take his release from the Yorkshire dungeon and quickly take the first trail leading back to the Highlands. Otherwise, he'd risk getting snapped up for the draft as a ditch digger building tactical trenches for the Imperials. There was nothing in the Mainlands that was worth the risk of forced labor—and nothing indeed. But no one? That was a different matter entirely. Quietly, Caspian hoisted himself up onto a whitewashed stone. Moss pressed against his paw pads and ivy tickled his brow as he leaned into the thick shadows cast by the mansion's imposing facade. A nearby torch filled the air with the scent of woodsmoke and, as he'd hoped, the patrolmen carried on without a second glance in his direction. A small but satisfying win for the day. As he began to pick his way along the crumbling exterior of the building, he began to wonder if he'd made a mistake pursuing the life of a (generally) law-abiding sailor. Given how strong of a swimmer he was, Caspian had always assumed the ocean was his calling. Now, as he scaled the precarious outer edge of the manse, he realized he'd been neglecting a riveting career in swashbuckling and general skullduggery. Maybe he'd tell that joke to Cairo when he saw her. Of course, he imagined he'd need to wake her up. These weren't normal calling hours, after all. He'd had to wait until the depths of night before risking the treacherous leap into the army soldier's jaws. Firstly to avoid being caught by her compatriots and secondly to avoid her calling them to catch him. ... Quietly, Caspian slipped through a cracked, paneless window. However, he froze when he realized that the room wasn't as hushed as he'd expected. Rather than the soft sounds of Cairo's breathing, he heard strangled little hiccups as if... someone was... crying. Crying. Caspian took a second to connect the dots, to see the soldier's hunched and shaking figure, and realize he'd made a calculated mistake. ... Trying to be as soundless as possible, he inched backward, hoping to simply backpedal so as to not give her the rich embarassment of having been spotted. He imagined, with little effort, that she wouldn't appreciate such an intrusion. And, knowing his track record with emotionally burdened women, Caspian didn't want to try his luck comforting her—although the sight did pluck at his heartstrings. So much so that he dumbly backed into a wall and knocked some hanging of a moth-bitten, faded painting off its nail.                    “You seemed to replace your brain with your heart ."

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@Cairo

Nobody came into her room unannounced. The Tiamats were a formal house, and any familial visit was always started with a *knock, knock* at the door. And this was of course true for anyone outside the family. And so in her room, Cairo was allowed to be fully herself. Make no mistake, Cairo was herself inside and outside of her room 98% of the time. But there were occasions. Tonight was just such an occasion. The soldier got back to her room and slammed the door behind her -- she felt angry. This was nothing new. What was new was whatever else was budding in her chest, constricting it and causing her throat to tighten. She fought it for a while, but eventually she let herself succumb and hot tears rain down her cheeks. Her body tensed and she hunched over herself like a child curling on themselves for protection. ------ It happened within seconds. There was a noise from the edge of her room -- someone was here -- and the girl whipped around with snarling fangs. In her movement a decorative vase toppled from its pedestal and shattered. As she went to kill whoever the hell thought it was a good idea to sneak into an Imperial Captain's room in the middle of the night, she froze. Her snarl cut off but her face was still curled in fury, her wet eyes burning with tidal fire as they flicked across the man's face. In silent shock her pelt bristled and her eyes widened. There was a knock at her door, and it caused her to jump and whip around to stare at it in a rushed panic. "Captain? We heard a crash are you alright?" Cairo swallowed to smooth her voice, thought it was still harsh as she snapped back (perhaps a little too urgently): "It's nothing, return to your posts." Her heart was in her throat as she continued to stare at the door, making sure the shadows of feet disappeared from beneath the crack. When they were gone she she turned back to the shadow in her room, and her eyes were still glowing like embers in a rain-laden campfire. "I could have killed you," she snarled quietly -- and only quietly because she did not want the guards to return. "What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded, and then for some reason she could suddenly feel the wetness on her cheeks. The tear stains now burned as if lava had dripped down her face, and she was all too aware of the situation she was in. No one saw her cry which only made her more furious-- if not lividly embarrassed. Her eyes met his, blazing with new light. "I could have you arrested -- again." she threatened, but the words were obviously hollow and to Cairo's horror they even quivered a bit. With another bout of fury she let out a quiet growl, lifted her paw and shoved his shoulder to push him roughly against the wall. She didn't hold him there though, instead she turned away from him, distancing herself before turning back, looking at him. As her heart began to steady from the shock and embarrassment and fury, she realized the reality of the situation. Caspian, the Highlander, the Jacobite, the man who had taken her to the dark corners of the bonfire and who she had just recently seen in jail was in her bedroom. She knew he had been released today, he should be halfway to the highlands by now but... he was here.

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At least, if this was to be the end, it would be swift. She wasted no time in clearing the distance between her nest and his spot on the wall. Her face was warped into one of fury, yellow eyes igniting into molten pools of lava—yet those fires guttered when she saw who he was. His breath caught in his throat, stilled into uncharacteristic silence by the pulse of blood within his jugular vein. It was as if it knew just how close it had come to being two pieces instead of one. The sound of pawsteps matched the beating of his heart. Caspian's eyes flitted to the archway at the far side of the room. At the loud knock, he felt a sharp pang of regret. He was a damned fool, wasting his life on this. She'd turn him in and that'd be the end of it. He'd been in their prison far too many times to think that they wouldn't just execute him tonight. But she called the guards away. Caspian couldn't stop himself from staring at her in surprise. "What the hell are you doing here?" Her voice never lost its anger, mirroring the threat from mere seconds before. It was a good question, one he was wondering now just as well. He opened his maw to speak, to answer her, then closed it again and shrugged. “I don't think I have a good reason," Caspian confessed as he leaned back against the wall. “I just wanted to know how you were doing—" he paused, a wry smile spreading over his lips. “—you put a spell on me at the bonfire," he teased. “All of the witches went south to avoid the trials, after all." Yet, even as he tried to jest, he couldn't keep the whole of his smile present. Instead, his voice softened. He really had worried about her. Try as he might to focus on the battle when he'd been in it, half of his attention had been on Cairo. They'd won, yes, but that battle would just be the beginning. But at least here she was, whole... mostly. Perhaps that was why he asked a question that he shouldn't have: “Why are you crying?"                    “You seemed to replace your brain with your heart ."

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