[ taking his hand makes her feel far warmer than the glow of the fire does — it also gives her courage, banishes the hesitance that so ill suits her. ]
That is an elven answer, if there ever was one. [ her words carry the touch of a laugh, though not at him. ] You are far better at being diplomatic than the daughter of a king.
You speak of using the time we have wisely... For me, that means I shall not accept the way things are. If the next mission tries to separate us, I shall fight it. I shall not let hesitance keep me from speaking what must be said.
[ her answering smile is small, yet bright with conviction; beneath her feet, the snow melts, giving way to buds of flowers. ]
Dear Ben. [ with her free hand, she cups his cheek, this time not withdrawing. ] You may be content to not speak of it... but I would not let our time here come to an end without making sure you know just how much you mean to me. Gi melin. [ perhaps there is still some nervousness in her, with the way she says it very deliberately in sindarin. ]
[ He isn't offended; if anything, he shares the same amusement with a light huff of laughter himself. ]
Years of going between arguing politicians, I suppose I have picked up a thing or two.
[ Is he surprised by this? Perhaps, a little. But then the Order had always sent him especially on diplomatic missions during the prime of his days as a Knight and then a General. And while he could get caught up in the memories of a past he has long buried, instead he's caught a little breathless now by Luthien's unwavering conviction, the steadfastness that comes with what she says. He admires her for it, more than he thinks he even has the words to express, and marvels the vision of the little flowers blossoming beneath her feet as though even the weather (simulated or not) could not hold her back. Hell, he dares it to try.
Ben gives in to her touch now, shutting his eyes as though to memorize the feeling or preemptively mourn its loss for when he finds himself back in the Outer Rim, returned to the lonely Jundland Wastes with the hope that his regret, at the very least, might be undone. His own free hand folds over hers, fingers gently squeezing, and for a moment allows himself the selfish thought that going back doesn't matter. That undoing his regret is too high a price to pay for this. That he doesn't care.
His voice is soft when he opens his eyes again and meets Luthien's, curious ... and perhaps a little anticipatory. ]
[ curious, how light she feels — as if the weight of all the months of carefully selecting which words to speak and which to hold back has lifted all at once. oh, how her father would hate that she should have chosen another man who, in his eyes, would not be worthy of her; but her heart cannot be controlled. ]
I believe, in the tongue of men, the translation would be I love you.
[ Likewise, the belief that such a confession could bear a heavier weight and fill him more with dread than anything else seems to be completely unfounded. Moronic, even. To hear her say the words feels as though everything they've tried to keep at bay can be let go instead.
It does feel freeing. It's the un-wrenching of a vice around his chest and the pull of fresh air in his lungs.
And this wonderful, incredible, beautiful elf feeling such a way about him — most days Ben doesn't believe in such things as luck, because everything is guided by the flow and the will of the Force, but how could it be that the Force could put him on the path of such an unimaginable gift? ]
Well, then. [ He leans in to close the distance between them, and to murmur her language's words with fairly impressive pronunciation. They feel right on his tongue; they feel like they carry more meaning than Basic ever could and he wants her to know that he means this. ] Gi melin, Luthien.
[ funny — to hear him say it makes her feel like laughing and crying at the same time. she feels as though she could sing the winter itself away, to change the seasons with the unbridled joy that his words bring her. ]
It sounds better, when you say it. [ her laughter is the tinkling of bells before she, too, leans towards him like a flower to the sun, until the space between them is gone.
it is perhaps a good thing she chose a time as early as this; she would be displeased if someone came across them, now, for the interruption it would be, rather than any shame over being seen with him. ]
[ His echoing laughter is quiet but it releases all of the tension in his shoulders, and softens the tightness in his eyes and around his mouth beneath the scruff of his beard. He looks almost younger, and when he looks into her eyes its with the clarity of someone who understands what this all means, what saying these words means, and believing them with all of the flow of the Force through every atom in his body.
He lifts a hand to gently stroke at her cheek with a finger, ever so fond, before he helps to close the distance between them. The press of his lips to hers is gentle, and admittedly a little tentative at first — the mark of someone who admittedly hasn't kissed anyone in some time, nor felt this way in so long that it takes a moment to draw back the memories he'd long since buried away in the name of fulfilling his duty. In putting the greater good first.
But if time and life and his dedication to the ways of the Force have shown him anything, it isn't that he should fully exclude one thing for another. (A mistake he has paid dearly for in the past.) He feels this way for Luthien and he doesn't feel as though the ghosts of the Council would admonish him for it. Or perhaps he doesn't care even if they do.
Now there's a thought.
A moment later, and Ben pulls back just enough to be able to speak again, the warmth and taste of her lips still on his tongue. ]
I fear that I may join you if they try to separate us.
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no subject
That is an elven answer, if there ever was one. [ her words carry the touch of a laugh, though not at him. ] You are far better at being diplomatic than the daughter of a king.
You speak of using the time we have wisely... For me, that means I shall not accept the way things are. If the next mission tries to separate us, I shall fight it. I shall not let hesitance keep me from speaking what must be said.
[ her answering smile is small, yet bright with conviction; beneath her feet, the snow melts, giving way to buds of flowers. ]
Dear Ben. [ with her free hand, she cups his cheek, this time not withdrawing. ] You may be content to not speak of it... but I would not let our time here come to an end without making sure you know just how much you mean to me. Gi melin. [ perhaps there is still some nervousness in her, with the way she says it very deliberately in sindarin. ]
no subject
Years of going between arguing politicians, I suppose I have picked up a thing or two.
[ Is he surprised by this? Perhaps, a little. But then the Order had always sent him especially on diplomatic missions during the prime of his days as a Knight and then a General. And while he could get caught up in the memories of a past he has long buried, instead he's caught a little breathless now by Luthien's unwavering conviction, the steadfastness that comes with what she says. He admires her for it, more than he thinks he even has the words to express, and marvels the vision of the little flowers blossoming beneath her feet as though even the weather (simulated or not) could not hold her back. Hell, he dares it to try.
Ben gives in to her touch now, shutting his eyes as though to memorize the feeling or preemptively mourn its loss for when he finds himself back in the Outer Rim, returned to the lonely Jundland Wastes with the hope that his regret, at the very least, might be undone. His own free hand folds over hers, fingers gently squeezing, and for a moment allows himself the selfish thought that going back doesn't matter. That undoing his regret is too high a price to pay for this. That he doesn't care.
His voice is soft when he opens his eyes again and meets Luthien's, curious ... and perhaps a little anticipatory. ]
What does that mean?
no subject
[ curious, how light she feels — as if the weight of all the months of carefully selecting which words to speak and which to hold back has lifted all at once. oh, how her father would hate that she should have chosen another man who, in his eyes, would not be worthy of her; but her heart cannot be controlled. ]
I believe, in the tongue of men, the translation would be I love you.
no subject
It does feel freeing. It's the un-wrenching of a vice around his chest and the pull of fresh air in his lungs.
And this wonderful, incredible, beautiful elf feeling such a way about him — most days Ben doesn't believe in such things as luck, because everything is guided by the flow and the will of the Force, but how could it be that the Force could put him on the path of such an unimaginable gift? ]
Well, then. [ He leans in to close the distance between them, and to murmur her language's words with fairly impressive pronunciation. They feel right on his tongue; they feel like they carry more meaning than Basic ever could and he wants her to know that he means this. ] Gi melin, Luthien.
no subject
It sounds better, when you say it. [ her laughter is the tinkling of bells before she, too, leans towards him like a flower to the sun, until the space between them is gone.
it is perhaps a good thing she chose a time as early as this; she would be displeased if someone came across them, now, for the interruption it would be, rather than any shame over being seen with him. ]
no subject
He lifts a hand to gently stroke at her cheek with a finger, ever so fond, before he helps to close the distance between them. The press of his lips to hers is gentle, and admittedly a little tentative at first — the mark of someone who admittedly hasn't kissed anyone in some time, nor felt this way in so long that it takes a moment to draw back the memories he'd long since buried away in the name of fulfilling his duty. In putting the greater good first.
But if time and life and his dedication to the ways of the Force have shown him anything, it isn't that he should fully exclude one thing for another. (A mistake he has paid dearly for in the past.) He feels this way for Luthien and he doesn't feel as though the ghosts of the Council would admonish him for it. Or perhaps he doesn't care even if they do.
Now there's a thought.
A moment later, and Ben pulls back just enough to be able to speak again, the warmth and taste of her lips still on his tongue. ]
I fear that I may join you if they try to separate us.
[ Just in case she had any doubt at all. ]