The days passed by in a hazy crawl. Customers dropped by and orders were filled, all while a certain daedra lingered in the shop. He was as helpful as he was lazy, just as likely to be found patching torn clothes as he was eating all the grapes. Brucan would pass by the storefront, his dark eyes glued to the windows, but he never entered. It left Sansine rubbing gooseflesh from her arms and wondering what was stopping him.

"No, come on! Stand up straight," she poked Romas's gut, grinning at the scowl he returned. In the down time between orders Sansine had taken to dressing the daedra, or rather trying to. Today she was smoothing him into a sable doublet, her quick fingers securing the many buttons adorning the front.

"I don't appreciate playing dress up," he growled, reaching over her to snatch a handful of grapes.

Sansine clucked her tongue, "just let me have my fun. All the men in these parts that ask for clothes built from scratch are all miserably shaped, like giant porkish apples asking me to make them look like young Legionnaires again. You've got such a great figure, tall and strong, broad shoulders," she ran her hands up his arms, "and this waistline and slim hips," she slid her hands down his sides, shaking her head in awe. "You have a fantastic body, I just want to adorn you with finery. Make you up like all those fat nobles wish they could be," Sansine confessed. Circling her thumbs against his hipbones she suddenly stiffened, stilling as realization of what she was doing hit.

"Mortal," Romas warned. Her hands jerked back, heat flooding her face and neck as she mumbled a quick apology. Darting behind him Sansine silently cringed and cursed, finishing the fitting with professional efficiency. Handing him his regular clothing she sent Romas behind a folding blind to change and Sansine began straightening up the front desk. Her ears perked at the awkward jingle of the front door.

"Hello, welcome to – " her mouth slammed shut as Brucan pulled off his leather helmet, smiling and sliding a hand through his dark curly locks. Behind the desk Sansine felt her knees begin to shake.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to take you by surprise. I've just been wanting to drop in and say hi for a while," he admitted, his face seeping with apology. Sansine couldn't open her mouth, her throat strangled shut by her own nerves. Brucan either didn't notice or make mention as he began to explore the shop. He slid his calloused fingers over the bodices of display dresses, humming his approval at the silken fabrics. Brucan set his helm on a low table, resting a hand on the pommel of his sword in what may have been a relaxed stance. Sansine couldn't tell, every muscle in her body burning for her to get away.

"I can see you've kept the shop open. A bit cramped though, isn't it?" he asked.

Sansine swallowed past a dry throat, "I had to move everything to this floor," she said, attempting to ignore her shaking voice.

"Ah, yes, my mother told me about the fire," Brucan moved towards Sansine, catching her hand before she could react, "I'm so sorry. I wasn't here, I should have helped you through that." His coarse thumb stroked the back of her hand, his strong grip caging her.

Sansine forced a light laugh when her attempts to tug her hand free failed. "I can take care of myself, Brucan."

"You shouldn't have to. It's a man's duty to care for his own," his voice grave. Sansine began to hear a ringing in her ears.

"Sansine have you eaten today? You're hand's shaking."

"I'm not married, I don't need someone to look after me. The notion's insulting," she forced out the words, hair on the back of her neck rising at the sudden light in his eyes.

"No? But I could've sworn…" he trailed off, fingers digging into her wrist as his eyes flickered around the room, searching his thoughts. Then he looked up at her, a smile crawling over tanned lips. "So you're still available?"

"No!" Sansine ripped her hand free, stumbling back until her hip hit a sewing table, "Brucan I've told you I have no interest in wedding anyone or enduring any form of romantic relationships," her chin quivered as her eyes began to sting, "okay?"

Brucan laughed, the kindness in his face bleeding into confidence, "Sansi I'll have you yet. The day a woman is happy alone is the day the Thalmor accept the ninth. I'll visit again, tomorrow! Perhaps we can lunch together? Ah, let's not make plans. I like to see what happens when we're together," he turned, collecting his helm and tossing it on. Swinging open the door he paused, half turning back, "until tomorrow then, love." With that he was gone, the rusted doorbell clanking while Sansine slid down to the ground, scrubbing the heels of her hands over her eyes.

"He's sure of himself," Romas murmured, his reappearance startling Sansine. She nodded, not trusting her voice over the thickness in her throat. Swiping the last lick of moisture from her eyes she loosed a shaky sigh, laying back and splaying out her arms. Romas came to stand over her, peering down.

"You've a suitor. He doesn't seem the type to take no for an answer, either."

Sansine snorted, smiling grimly.

"Perhaps it would have been wise to say you were claimed."

She cleared her wet throat, "he would have demanded to meet his competitor. Likely have killed him if there had truly been someone."

"As he did your father?"

Sansine just groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose, "and how have you figured that bit out?"

Romas didn't seem particularly inclined to answer. She didn't break, though, and bolstered her patience against his. Eventually the Dremora rolled his eyes, deciding he didn't have enough energy for this.

"What are you going to do?" he switched subjects, toeing her side. Sansine grumbled, smacking away his boot.

"I don't know. Keep Brucan at arm's length. Although that didn't seem to work too well before… You have any ideas?" she asked, hooking a finger under the tongue of Romas's boot. He swung his heel lazily enough that her grip didn't dislodge.

"Kill him."

"Okay, barring that what would you do if you were me?"

"Have me kill him."

Sansine glared up at him, maliciously untying his bootlaces. Romas hissed, kicking away her hand and moving away to retie his boot. Rolling onto her side she propped her chin up in her hand, watching Romas's long fingers tie the knot.

"Would you really do it, if I asked you? Kill him, I mean," she asked, worrying her bottom lip.

Romas barely glanced up, "I must do what Liobah commands and the witch has decreed I obey your wishes."

Sansine flapped her hand, "no, no, no, I'm not going to command anything like that from you, Romas. You'd probably find some way to turn it back and slit my throat with my own words, anyhow," she shivered. "Would you kill someone for me of your own free will?"

He sighed, straightening up to look down his nose at the Imperial lying on the floor, "for you?"

"That's what I asked."

"I would kill as many mortals as I could just for my own gluttony. Your honor means nothing to me," he said. Sansine wasn't really expecting anything different and yet she still felt a bit deflated. Getting to her feet Sansine brushed her hair back, the unruly curls sticking to the drying sweat on her neck and temples. Patting her tunic clean of stray threads she began tidying up the front desk, collecting herself.

"I suppose that's not surprising. You can go now, Liobah's expecting you back to help preparations for her father's return," she flapped a cloth at him. Romas tucked a sealed package under his arm that contained he and Liobah's clothing for the Dunmer's upcoming garden party before departing. Sansine had been putting off finishing her dress, a simple gown of dusty turquoise that matched her bluish eyes. Compared to what she usually wore it was damn near opulent. She was loath to actually putting it on.

Yet it was a fate she must face. Donning the shiny gem colored dress Sansine pinned up her dark hair in the mirror. Ornaments of gold colored metal sparkled with colored glass in the mess of curls she'd half braided into a bun high on the back of her head. Her face was dusted with makeup; her lips stained a hint of red with her eyes thinly lined in black. Dropping her hands from the foreign mess of skirts she tried to fight down the urge to rip away all her finery and go nap.

"I look like a faker."

Sucking in a miserably thin breath thanks to the tight bodice, she knocked the toes of her least scuffed brown boots against the ground to fix the fit and made her way from the shop, locking the door behind her. The evening was drawing to an end, the sky blooming with rosy pink and purple clouds while mothers and fathers gathered their children up for supper. The trip to Liobah's mansion ended too quickly. Sansine attempted not to drop her gaze from the passing carriages and carts of the Dunmer's other more affluent guests. Only once did Sansine wince at another couple's pointedly arched brows and half lidded eyes. Fanning away the sweat building at her brow, Sansine entered the open doors of the mansion and followed the crowd out to the gardens.

There are very few ways to intermingle at a party where one doesn't know anyone. The more gregarious of us can find anything to pluck up a conversation with a stranger with, whether that be the designer of a fabulous hat or asking a portly businessman how he'd earned his wealth. Then there are those that eat and drink away their nerves, snatching sweets and snacks from passing server's trays and otherwise occupying themselves by filling their mouths with something other than conversation. Then there are the very dregs of social entities, the ones that stand back attempting to be unseen and desperately searching for a familiar face. Sansine fell into this last category, holding a fresh glass of wine in her hand while scanning the crowd of bright and laughing people.

There were colored lanterns strung up across the back balcony, vines of rose and honeysuckle curling up over the marble banisters that overlooked the lower hedge maze that spanned nearly the whole of the back property. There were great statues and fountains to be found in the lovingly trimmed greenery, supposedly even a few clandestine statues of daedric princes if the gossip was to be believed.

Liobah's guests were eclectic. Men, mer, Khajiit, and Argonians paced the grounds. Not a hair out of place or a smudge of makeup on any faces, every Khajiit's fur was silken and shining with luster while the Argonians wore their scales like shining coins. Altmer towered over all, their dark and golden almond eyes shining in the waning light of the sunset. Even a few orcs stood to the side talking amongst themselves, their burly bodies tucked into richly adorned clothes. A maroon jacket moved to block Sansine's view. Looking up she found Romas's placid face peering back.

"Gods, I'm glad to see you," she confessed, letting her shoulders relax. Romas didn't say a word, instead he continued to look at her, going so far as to squint. Sansine began to fidget with her glass, leaning back a touch.

"Is there something on my face?"

"Yes," Romas deadpanned. He reached out, brushing his coarse thumb against her upper lip. Sansine snapped at him in a halfhearted bite, earning a warning growl while he smeared the lipstick between his thumb and forefinger.

"It's makeup, ladies are supposed to wear it," she explained, clipping off her words before she could insult his ignorance.

"I'm aware. You look terrible with it. Bizarre in that," he elaborated, nodding to her dress. Sansine shrugged, nodding.

"Can't disagree with you there. You look nice though," she switched subjects, taking her turn to brush a hand against his suit jacket. It was a proper fit, emphasizing his sinfully perfect waist to shoulder line and complementing the wine colored markings on his face. His buttons and cufflinks were simple gold like his earrings. Sansine wasn't disappointed to see his hair had been pulled pack in the usual topknot with the addition of two finger thick braids pulling back from his temples.

"The bitch wants to see you," Romas muttered, pulling her hand from where she'd been examining the stitching of his hemline. Sansine obliged, following as the Dremora turned and parted the crowd with his dangerous presence. It was almost an empowering feeling to be at the side of someone whose presence commanded such attention. Sansine kept close, holding her chin up and straightening her back as they walked through the gossiping folk. If she were honest the touch of fear in their eyes was interesting. She'd no idea how powerful she could feel at Romas's side.

"Here we go, here we go, this is that seamstress I was talking about," Liobah snatched Sansine's wrist, tugging the Imperial over to a grim Dunmer. He was a head taller than Liobah with the same bluish coloring. Dark garnet eyes set under a hard brow looked over Sansine with disinterest while she tried not to break out in an anxious sweat. Instead of the local fashion this mer wore thick robes, the layers of richly dyed fabrics seeping wealth and foreign magic. Sansine nearly started when she saw the silver piercings in his lip and nose.

"She's usually not so rude but I probably stared like that the first time I met you," Liobah joked, surreptitiously pinching Sansine's arm and waking her from the momentary stupor.

"My apologies, I've no idea how to behave at these kinds of affairs. It's nice to meet you, I'm Sansine," she said, then cringed, "as your daughter already said." She could nearly feel Liobah rolling her eyes.

"Felthir. You are just as quaint as my daughter described," he frowned, dark eyes sliding to Liobah, "surprisingly."

"She's a simpleton but that's her greatest charm. Not all of us can be great scholarly successes. Even so she's been a good friend to me over the past few years." The Dunmer fell into a string of Dunmeris soon after, the foreign tongue beyond Sansine's grasp. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, each time unsure whether she'd been dismissed or not. Felthir didn't seem interested in continuing any conversation with the tailor but at the same time Sansine felt him just the type to be offended if she wandered away without his blessing. The formalities were a pain that left her with a budding headache. Fidgeting with the glass in hand she waited, watching the sun bruised sky fall purple.

"I was hoping you'd be here," Brucan slid an arm around her waist, pulling her in for a quick kiss on the cheek. Liobah and Felthir fell silent, their apparent argument slipping away while Sansine tried not to lean too obviously away from the Imperial as her skin paled.

"You two know each other? Well that's one less introduction to make. Brucan Thitellius here's part of the Legion, placed here to protect this cute little town. And this is my father Felthir." The exchange was notably less painful than Sansine's as man and mer exchanged quick masculine greetings and Liobah dipper her finger into her wine, humming a tune as she swirled the rosy liquid.

"So you're close with Sansi?" the elf asked, ruby eyes wide with curiosity and cunning. Brucan returned his arm to the Imperial girl's shoulders even as she hunched reluctantly.

"Certainly. Since we were kids the two of us drove the locals mad. We haven't seen each other much since I've been away with the Legion," he turned eyes crinkled with fondness to Sansine, "I've certainly missed her at my side."

"Oh? So you're courting?" Liobah smirked.

"No!" Sansine cleared her throat, embarrassed by her outburst as all eyes turned to her, "apologies. No, I'm not interested in that form of relationship with him."

"So I'm not good enough but others are?" Brucan asked through his teeth. His rough fingers dug into her slight shoulder, callouses scraping her skin. She did her best to hide her wince but Felthir's trim eyebrow rose regardless.

"That's not what I meant. We've talked about this," she said quietly, her knees beginning to quake as she was pulled further flush against him. He said not a word but his jovial countenance did fade. With the loss of his easygoing eyes and boyish smile came an embittered look of calculation, dark gaze attempting to discern something from Sansine's pale face. She couldn't look away from him even as his hold began to bruise her, she could only look up into his hovering face while her hands gripped the swell of her wineglass. Liobah cleared her throat, sharply clapping her hands.

"Alright, it's nightfall, time for festivities!" she called, snaking her arm into Sansine's and drawing her from Brucan. The sorceress quickly led the way to a lifted portion of the balcony. The other guests quieted as she called for attention, soon silence befall the dimly lit back garden.

"Hello, hello, thank you all for coming this evening to my humble abode," Liobah swung out her free arm to the opulent mansion and its grounds, earning a chuckle from the less affluent locals. "I know many of you are curious about me and my home and what better way to feed that hunger than through a game?"

Interested murmurs bubbled up from the crowd as finely dressed men and women spoke in excited whispers. Liobah could barley contain her grin, raising her hand for silence.

"You'll have made note of my lovely maze if you've a proper set of eyes, and that will be our arena for tonight. The fairer sex will have a head start to hide in the hedge and then men will follow soon thereafter. If a woman should be found their discoverer will have earned a kiss. Game starts now!" she shouted. Shrill giggles erupted as women hitched up their skirts and fled into the intricate gardens, disappearing into the green as the men chuckled at their enthusiasm. Sansine snorted as a woman tugged her skirt from where it had stuck in the hedge.

"And what do you have to be so smug about? You've lost your head start," Liobah frowned, raising a critical brow. Sansine spared a moment to reflect father and daughter had perfected that look.

"What? I'm not playing."

"Yes you are."

Sansine cringed, "no…"

"Yes, now go."

"I refuse."

"Too bad. We're all playing and," she leaned forward until her lips brushed against Sansine's ear, "don't look now but that Imperial Legionnaire is ready to hunt. Still want to waste your head start?"

Sansine glared at her friend, gathering up handfuls of her dusty turquoise skirt and running for the maze as chuckles chased her in. The hedges were nearly twice the height of the tallest man, the dense walls seemingly absorbing the light and sound of the party. Soft dark earth met her quick steps, coarse leaves catching her elbows as she hoisted up her annoying skirt. Sansine's eyesight was poor; the burden of someone whose business had her hunched two inches away from intricate fabrics, and the darkened and moist misty paths lent her no aid as she struggled through. She'd barely made four turns when the men roared, whooping and calling out as they charged the maze. Sansine swallowed over a dry throat.

She had reason to be nervous. Brucan wasn't only a seasoned Legionnaire but also an accomplished hunter. The Thitellius family was well known for their long hunting trips where game was brought down not for need but for sport. Brucan had enjoyed years of learning how to track and stalk his prey thanks to this and Sansine was sure the loamy soil underfoot would not help her disappear. "Bastard certainly knows my shoe size," she muttered, backing out from a dead end and twisting to a new avenue.

Every now and then she'd run into a slowly wandering woman and they'd give each other a fright. At every sound of someone passing on the far side of the hedge Sansine would take care to quiet her steps and silence her breathing. Her neck strained from constant glances over her shoulder. The batter of her heart was so loud that by the time she realized she could hear nothing, no giggling women or chuckling men sharing a carefree game; she'd gone too far into the labyrinth.

Here the soil was clear of footprints and the air heavy with the night's chill. Pushing on Sansine rubbed at the gooseflesh on her arms, cursing her off the shoulder sleeves. When next she turned a corner Sansine stopped in her tracks, captured by the site beyond.

A glade opened up before her, a courtyard of cut stone and a single fountain dominating the center. Flowering bushes brought a dull ivory glow from the moonlight, their heady scent thickening the air. Tentatively Sansine stepped out from the narrow hedge lane, as reluctant to step into the open as she was fascinated by the strange place.

Crème white bell shaped blossoms dipped lazily in the slight breeze, the hushed wind mixing with the burbling fountain. Coming to stand at the ledge of the fountain Sansine observed a statue of an enormous mudcrab with one raised claw holding what looked to be a flower of rusted metal. She snorted, incredulous, and then she felt a chill work down her spine. Squinting into the darkness she found herself alone. Yet the chill persisted. Giving in to the oppressive feeling she darted into an opening on the far side of the courtyard and pressed forward with quick steps.

The further into the labyrinth she went the darker and colder the alleys became. It got to a point where she had to move slower than walking with one arm held out before her and another trailing along the trimmed foliage. She began to wonder what she was doing. At some point she was going to have to return to the party and if she were smart she would have realized the only man mad enough to chase her this far would be Brucan. Maybe she should just turn back and hunt down some other male, giving her kiss to them just to keep herself safe from Brucan. And what was she so afraid of kissing him for, anyhow? For all she knew it would be harmless, perhaps she was just making a mountain out of a molehill.

In the midst of berating herself she heard a sigh. Immediately she locked up, her mind and body stilling as every sense tuned into the source of the sound. Then she heard the quiet press of boots into soil, the brush of fabric, and she looked down. Easing a hand down she touched the surface of the dirt and found there were indeed boot prints ahead of hers. They were large, a man's boot. Sansine didn't move until the presence had faded before she grasped one handful of her skirt and with the other kept track of the hedge wall. She set a brisk pace, breathing quietly through parted lips and travelling as fast as she dared.

She skidded around corners, cutting her fingertips against leaves and pruned twigs until she crashed into him. Sansine let out a burst of air, squeaking at the pain in her sinuses from running face first into his arm. Bouncing back her heel snagged on her skirt and she fell to her bottom, tears springing to her eyes. Cupping her face and squinting past the stinging she looked up, hand already raised in defense.

"Romas? What are you doing out here?"

He was barely indistinguishable from the cool night, only a darker silhouette with two pinpricks of light where he looked down at her. He didn't help her to her feet or greet her but Sansine was sure she was the only person ever to be so relieved by running into a Dremora.

Getting to her feet she brushed off her rear, "never mind, I'm just glad you're not – "

"Liobah ordered me to find you," Romas interrupted. Sansine frowned, tilting her head.

"Why?"

"She thought you had been gone too long and worried about the Imperial. Obviously," his tone dripped with contempt. Sansine blew loose strands of hair from her face, rolling her eyes.

"Fine, we'd better get back then before he finds us," she muttered, moving to go only for a vice grip on her arm to pull her back. Opening her mouth to complain proved a mistake as a fiery warm hand clamped over her lips and jaw, moving her until she was locked against Romas's chest. Dimly she found herself wondering how they kept ending up in this position. He moved back, sliding an arm around Sansine's waist and keeping her flush against him with each step. When a burst of crackling energy passed over her skin she nearly moved to bite the firm hand crushing her lips when she heard the footsteps.

Brucan.

He stood barely two strides away, breathing heavily and searching. He carried a dimmed lantern and in its dull orange glow Sansine realized she couldn't see her stray hair. Or her nose. Tilting her chin down she couldn't see Romas's hand or her own body. They were invisible.

So Romas was a mage.

Brucan peered down at the ground and lowered his lamp, frowning at the cacophony of footprints. Sansine saw their were more than one set of tracks and realized, with a tinge of embarrassment, that most belonged to her. She'd been walking in circles. She waited obediently in Romas's arms as Brucan continued further down and disappeared into the maze. A few moments passed before the spell dissipated and Sansine was able to pull out of Romas's hold.

"Thanks. I didn't know you were a mage," she said, keeping her voice down. Romas rolled a shoulder, bringing a small flame to his palm so they could see each other.

"Not all of us are warhammer wielding brutes in Oblivion." Sansine tried not to feel too chastised by the comment. She'd never known much about daedra, much less Oblivion or Aetherius. Although, given Romas's fairly lithe figure she should have guessed he wasn't the type to charge into battle with a greatsword in hand. Folding her arms she hummed, nodding as if this were some clever nugget of information and not another dig at her own ignorance.

"I see."

"Indeed."

"Well," Sansine brought her hands to Romas's small flame, warming them in the flickering light, "should we get back now?"

Following close behind Romas Sansine didn't shy away from her daedric companion. Rather boldly she held onto his jacket sleeve, at once trying to keep close to him and his firelight as well as hurry from the oppressive labyrinth. She probably should have let go when they returned to the party but instead a tipsy Liobah popped up in front of the couple, grinning from one pointy ear to the other.

"So it seems my darling Romas found you first!" she shouted, throwing out her hands and spilling half a goblet of wine onto a passing server. "Did she give you your proper reward, Romas? Hmm?"

At this point the closer guests had turned their attention to them. Sansine quickly crossed her arms over her chest, doing her best to study the tips of her boots.

"She has not," Romas answered. Liobah loosed an affronted cry, a hand slapping over her heart.

"How rude. Come one now, give him his prize," Liobah flicked Sansine's forehead. The imperial flinched, beginning to change colors as the crowd of onlookers grew.

"Is this really necessary?" Sansine quietly croaked. Romas didn't seem to care either way; his attention had turned to an idly wafting moth that flitted around a lantern. The only person seeming to care about the kiss was the drunken Dunmer. A force to be reckoned with.

"It is. Now you either give him a kiss like the rest of us who've been playing the game or I'll never commission a gown from you again."

Sansine balked. Liobah's business had kept Sansine's shop open when it otherwise would have had to close its doors. She couldn't afford to go back to charging spatching up torn trousers from the local farmers and expect to stay open. Liobah tipped back her head, downing her drink, "come on girl, don't embarrass me at my party."

"Can I do it later? Everyone's looking," Sansine mumbled, further hunching in on herself. Liobah rolled her eyes, muttering something in Dunmeris before shrugging, "fine. You, don't leave her alone until you've both shared a smooch," she poked a finger in Romas's face before spinning on a heel and disappearing into a group dance. Sansine was left flanked by a Dremora and surrounded by a group of vaguely disgusted men and mer. Biting her cheek she darted through the crowd, muttering apologies as she stepped on other guest's shoes and nearly knocked over a server. Coming to a stop hidden around a corner and further slouching against a statue of a centaur holding a cornucopia Sansine patted her hot cheeks, shaking her head. From one problem to another, as if she couldn't catch a break.

"If you just got it over with you could save yourself the embarrassment," Romas deadpanned, leaning against the statue as well. Sansine grumbled, rubbing her arms against the night's chill.

"I panicked."

"Clearly."

"You know you're awful calm about this. Aren't I some kind of dirt under your boot or something? Nobody wants to kiss dirt."

"It's true, I'd rather peel off every inch of your skin than comply with that bitch's wishes. However while I cannot harm you, watching this distress on your face is one of my only pleasures."

Sansine sighed. Of course now she had to deal with trying to do this task knowing he was thinking about something so vulgar. Was she overemotional? She must be, it did explain why he'd apparently taken a liking to her.

"You're cold," Romas said. Sansine glanced up at him, frowning. His eyes never left the stars overhead, yet Sansine had caught herself trying to rub the gooseflesh from her arms. "Er, yes. It's a touch more frigid than I thought it would be."

Then the daedra did something unexpected. If Sansine were the type to keep a diary she would have retold the event in all capital letters, bothering to underline the entire section. Romas slid off his velvet jacket, shoving it into the girl's arms. He was left in a white undershirt and matching maroon vest, a combination that only further exposed his strong lean physique.

"Uh!" Sansine gulped, "you don't have to – I'll survive." He turned on her like a viper, black lips peeled back over moonstone white fangs as his glowing yes flared into twin burning suns, "is my kindness not good enough for you, girl?"

Sansine flinched, nearly dropping the finery in her haste to pull it on. It was so warm, as if it had been left in the sun for a cat to laze about on. The shoulders were too wide for her, the sleeves spilling inches past her fingertips. Most terribly perfect of all was the smell, that familiar scent of Romas's that had Sansine's eyelids growing heavy and her thoughts turning to slow afternoons where the two of them coexisted in companionable silence back at the shop.

"Thank you," Sansine breathed, eyes darting away as her face warmed. She kicked at the ground, knocking a rock away.

"Can we get this over with?" Romas snapped, glaring down his nose at her, "I'm not interested in being out here all night."

"Okay, yes, just, uh," her eyes skirted around everything but him, finally landing on a sculpted bench, "sit there please. You're too tall, I won't be able to reach you otherwise." He didn't point out her poor reasoning, instead doing what he was told without complaint for once. Standing in front of him Sansine enjoyed a brief moment where he had to look up at her.

"Would it be too much to ask you to close your eyes?" she ventured. Romas's face soured, "I am going to savor playing your every tendon like a lute when I undo this binding."

"Gods! Alright!" Sansine yelped. She sucked in a breath through her nose, exhaling through her mouth as her heart already picked up speed. Pinching the ends of the jacket in her hands she barely noticed how sweaty her palms were or how she suddenly felt caught between running and utterly numb from the knee down. She licked her lips, then pressed them together worrying that she'd made them too wet. How was she supposed to kiss him? Did people just pucker up and lean in or did she have to do something else? Sansine had only ever kissed a stray cat that used to come into the shop, but she doubted Romas would appreciate her butting her forehead against his and planting a stiff lipped peck on his cheek.

"Sansi," Romas barked. She floundered then leaned in. She didn't have time to think when their mouths met, in fact her thoughts blanked out entirely when she felt his lips part for her and the wet swipe of his tongue. The sensation shocked her, causing her to draw back. Romas caught her wrist and cupped the back of her skull, holding her in place as he leaned closer.

Sansine's hands curled into claws, one coming to grasp a handful of the daedra's hair. At each stroke of his forked tongue over her lip she would tighten her hold, accidentally eliciting a subtle rumble from him. He slid his lips with hers, his tongue coming to stroke not only her lips but her own tongue in long tastes that left her mouth filled with the flavors of blood and wine. Her eyes watered at the intrusion, the muscles in her abdomen tightening into an exquisite throb as he kneaded the plump of her lower lip between his fangs. The harder she fought his hold the deeper their kiss grew, the more overwhelmed Sansine became. Every nerve was over stimulated, boiling over at his teasing until her shaking knees gave way.

She came to kneel between his parted thighs, gasping for breath as her hands shook. Over her Romas seemed unfazed, pulling her long dark curls over his ebon fingers while keeping one hand possessively holding the nape of her neck. When she finally had the courage to look up to him, an unsure glistening wetness to her eyes and her face a nervous pink, he grinned down with a savagery Sansine had not seen before. The hand on her neck slid around to her clavicle, spreading and crawling upwards until he cupped the swell of her cheek. Almost naturally Sansine leaned into the hold, her brows drawn together in confusion.

"What would you ask of me next? To take you now like the whore you are, or would you rather I let that Imperial you're so fearful of have his way with you?" he grasped the back of her skull again, leaning in close enough to breath over her battered lips, "what about it? I could break you in so many ways," his tongue dragging against her cheek, "ruin you for mortal men until you could never fear them, make you starve after my abuse."

Sansine gasped, shoving back from his arms. She fell to her rear, glaring hotly at Romas as he rest his elbows on his knees, a smug curl to his lips.

"You're a dog," she spat.

"You're my bitch in heat," he laughed.

Sansine stood, shaking off her skirts and straightening her hair that he'd mussed. She wanted to go, to leave him and his miserably sick heart to rot alone at this horrible garden party, but she couldn't keep her mouth shut. The words bubbled out before she could censor them, her emotion fueled state of mind too fragile to keep her from speaking.

"I've been nothing but kind to you, Dremora. I opened my home to you, kept my reservations to myself, and for the Gods' sakes I saw you as a friend! I'm sorry you have such a horrible disposition but I really do like you, or did," she ground her hands into fists, "I hope you can work out whatever you're going through because it's obviously something fierce if you have to act like I've wronged you. Divines, I don't understand men at all!"

With that out of her system she stomped off, chewing her lip to stave off angry tears and gathering up a handful of skirt so she could take long angry steps. She briefly considered being angry with Liobah but found the drunkards antics not unexpected, but neither could Sansine blame Romas for his behavior. He was a daedra, a Dremora at that. From what little she had gleaned on the race they seemed bred to bring pain upon mortals. Romas wasn't being especially cruel to her; he was simply behaving in a way that came naturally to him. It was in his nature to be terrible. Sansine's anger dampened as memories of the daedra lounging her shop drifted through her mind, of the two of them arguing after he'd eaten all her grapes again or the time he'd fallen asleep in an old overstuffed chair. The way the sunlight had warmed his skin and the soft touch of sleep to his normally strict features had made him seem so, well, was there a word for it?

Mortal?

.

.

.

/AN: and that's all i've got./