Sapphire Ambassadors

Yoshiaki walked through the Jinbaori, a place he was growing more and more familiar with over the passing days. But today he was heading to a slightly different part than he usually has had reason to get to know.

He carried some papers with him as he approached a particular room and scratched on the door to announce his presence.

After a moment, there's the pad of stocking'd feet and a soft *shhhhst* as the door slides open. Sriyani takes only a moment to confirm that it's her expected guest, her eyes brightening, before she bows a greeting and waves him into a room redolent with the scents of raw wood, a bit of some kind of oil, something spicy, and the fresh scent of a tannic, roasty tea.

"Good afternoon, Togashi-san." Her eyes light on the papers. "Ah! sketches!" An obvious excitement enters her tone.

He bows in return, a bright light dancing in his eyes as he straightened and looked at her. He stepped into the room and took a deep breath through his nose. And made a noise of appreciation as he exhaled "it smells wonderful in here." He says his smiling toward her.

"And yes some sketches for you, just to see what you like the most." He set the papers down onto a surface nearby and assuming she closed the door after he entered he would turn to her and close whatever distance there was between them before pulling her into an embrace. Hands on her hips as he pulled her towards him, against him "I also may have missed my favorite treat." He said with a wide grin as the fingers tightened a little on her hips.

She does, in fact, close the door, turning to find herself in a surprise embrace. Her startled grin declares it a welcome surprise, however, as she returns the embrace, arms slipping beneath his to cross behind his back. Away from home, there is so little touch. This feel like that first sip of water after a night on the sand, and she drinks it in as eagerly.

The papers are set on..a free stack more than a free surface, since the tiny space holds a great deal. The Futon is rolled against a wall in the far corner, and there's a clothing rack and the small table--the only clearish space with the small lunch laid out. A smaller table and cabinet of many small drawers is cluttered with scrolls, sketches, tools, cups full of metal bits and various beads. There are small blocks of fine woods leaned against the wall. All in all the effect is of a workshop crammed within a living space, leaving neither quite ideal to their purpose.

Looking up to him, that heat flares in her eyes, the flush across her cheeks apparent in the daylight as it was hidden beneath the moon. "Planning to have a taste then? she teases, already lifting a bit on her toes in anticipation.

Her touch was exciting more novel than familiar, while the Dragon were odd among the Clans and not so strict about physical contact they certainly didn't engage in it casually. Especially not so tenderly as this.

The hand slip more behind her as the arms come around her when he leans down to meet her. Their lips meet as he pulls her against him more firmly the kiss deep and slow. It

He enjoyed that for a few moments, feeling her lips against his her warmth nearly molded to his body as they pressed together. The tenderness of her kiss, her smell, the way her lips tasted, he drank every ounce of it in.

Eventually, almost reluctantly he pulled back smiling down to her "just as delicious as I remember, perhaps more so." He said with a voice both satisfied and wanting. A hand came up to her cheek cupping it as a thumb brushed lightly against her blush "and this is rather cute." His own cheeks were slightly flushed as well, easy enough to see.

She laughs, leaning into the touch at her cheek. "I can feel the warmth and guess at what's so cute." One hand slips free to brush his cheek, and continue to tuck a stray lock behind his ear. "And you actually can color up. Now I'm a little more sure you're not some spirit of marble come down from the mountains and likely to simply sink back into the earth when you've done seeing what people get up to in the lowlands."

There's warmth beneath the teasing tone, and desire in the press of her body against him, pulled back only a bit to see one-another's faces like this. She leans a bit, pulling toward the table. "But come, sit before the tea goes cold." The hand at his back tightens, "or let it grow cold while we chase other flavors?"

A throaty little chuckle bubbles our of his throat "I am flattered to hear you thought me some kind of spirit creature." He kissed her cheek lightly moving only a far enough back to look into her eyes deeply "do I have some unearthly quality to me?" He asked slightly breathily.

That same heat rose up a bit behind those cool silver eyes before he leaned in and kissed her neck gently soft lips on soft skin, once, twice "I could hardly sleep last night, my mind raced with need and it wasn't for tea." He said in a heated whisper, warm breath tickling her ear.

"The way your eyes caught me, and your calm, and the way you simply shone under the moon..." She sighs at the touch of his lips, stretching to expose more of her throat. "mmmm, and it's lovely to see that there's so much warmth underneath the cool exterior. She slips her hands free, beginning the process of undoing her obi in back to allow everything else to loosen. Something crinkles in her sleeve as it pulls between them.

"Thought of you as the moon spread across the floor, right there," she nods slightly toward the corner with her her futon beside the window, eyes heated with the memory of those thoughts. "And then the poem this morning. Another reminder that.." a rough catch stills her voice a moment as his lips and the manual dexterity going on behind her back require all available attention. She tries to pick up the thread again after a quiet, incoherent groan frees her voice. "I could think of you thinking of me and composing it in the night." 'the obi rests loose across hips instead of abdomen, only the first crossover knot still keeping it looped there. The undercord still holds her kimono, though it hangs looser.

Her eyes catch his, flashing a moment of worry as her hand comes up to cup his cheek. "But you're a monk," she breathes, "Is this ok? Are there vows that...?" She swallows, not sure she wants to continue asking if he shouldn't be doing this,

He listened and gave slight kisses and touches keeping his hands and arms out if her way but reaching back to grab the last of things keeping her veiled from him "I am a monk, but also a samurai, and a person." He spoke lightly, whispered words as he leaned into her hand.

He pulled those last threads cause what was once loose to now be free "We are allowed many freedoms us Togashi monks." He kissed her neck again "to follow our passions" another kiss "to follow our own path." Another kiss "and right now you are the passion on my path." The last was whispered directly into her ear before a trail of kisses along her jaw before looking back to her eyes that heat turned into a positive fire silver like molten pools.

Her hands, freed of their task, are now freed of hesitation by Yoshiaki's words and slip deep into that silken, silver hair. Each kiss burns its own own path through her body from its contact point, setting all her nerves alight, a fire she sees echoed in his eyes as she turns to look and finally, again, presses her lips to his. She sighs into the kiss, eyes closed to focus on her other senses, on the solid, visceral reality of the beautiful man in her arms.

Hands drift along silk to slide beneath his collar and down, stroking skin as her lips kiss along the edge of his lips to his cheek. "So grateful to be set in your path, dear Dragon." Eyes catching his, she steps back, beginning to shrug the kimono from her shoulders. "I did promise all the time you needed to inspect this canvas..."

/ftb?

The fires burned bright and all the world fell away beyond the space between them. She filled his vision with a glorious sight and words no long belonged in this space. It was time for following many passions and making many memories.

/ftb

/fade back in after a warmer than the weather report expected afternoon

Sriyani curls against him, tugging a loose underkimono across them as shield against air grown cool as the heat flushing her skin recedes. There are still sketches to look at, and to create. But for now, there's the quiet warmth of banked fires to attend to. She settles, tracing the sharp line of his collarbone with rough fingers. "I hope you're also fine revisiting paths already traveled, because I'd hope we'll have opportunity to explore that one again."

"Do monks marry? Carry on affairs through the seasons?"

Yoshiaki nuzzled into her head and planted a kiss on top of her thick dark hair. As the walls had started coming down the almost cold Dragon was surprisingly affectionate and warm "Oh I suspect you are a destination I will want to visit as often as possible my sweet flower." He spoke sweetly pulling back a little to look down to her.

"Monks in general? No. Togashi Monks? It isn't unheard of. As I've said we are allowed quite a bit of leeway in how we live. It is believed that each person knows their own path to enlightenment. Now if it clear a chosen path is leading someone astray they may be corrected but other than that we are given a rather long leash compared to most people." He explained as his hand resting on her arm moved gently up and down.

The endearment has her thinking of his poem. "If I'm a flower, what does that make you?" She lifts a lock of his hair, letting it slide through her fingers. "A silvery moth fluttering here from the mountains? Fierce dragon?" There's a teasing grin, "perhaps a bee?"

She nods, slowly gaining a better picture of how odd the Togashi lifestyle can be. "If we're chosen to be ambassadors, I imagine we may meet in the courts from time to time over the years. I like the thought of...your path letting us keep coming back to this destination." Shifting to glance at the somewhat distant stack of sketches, she asks, "How many times will we need to meet for your art to take shape?"

"A desert flower." He corrected putting emphasis on the word "not only beautiful but also resilient and able to thrive in even the harshest places." He looked down again kissing her forehead "as for me? Well I never claimed to be fierce, a bee seems a bit on the nose I'd say." He grins "a moth isn't bad, something only a few see the beauty in, many deride them as pests."

He hums a little in pleasure thinking on her words "I would very much like that. To find you on my path as frequently as possible." He muses.

"Woth you as inspiration I think I could make a well spring of art. If it were up to me I would see you every night until we are both forced back to our normal lives."

She concedes to the correction with a nod, not quite able to verbally agree, but unwilling to find an argument against the point.

"I am quite happy to let everyone know how hard you are working every night on the tattoo then," she says with a pleased grin. "Though that means it needs at least a bit of work each night, I'm no good at lying." Kissing his fingers, she sits up a bit, propped on her elbow. "My silver moth, beautiful so soft on my heart." Her grin is a bit wicked as she notes, "they do the work of bees, but at night, so still rather on point, hmm?"

"Will you show me what you plan to stab into my skin?"

He chuckles a little the sound more languid and satisfied than it usually is "Well I have no issue with that, I'm sure I can be rather thorough if I am motivated enough." He says giving her a quick peck on the lips "and then I suppose we should move these meeting to night time." He says with a somewhat wicked grin his hand runs along her side "I know I could get used to having you around."

He sits up as well "Ah yes I should have some sketches around here somewhere." He says before giving her another longer kiss "you make it hard to leave your side." He says softly before standing and walking to the stack of papers.

He returned to her and handed over the sketches. She would see a handful drawings of ki-rin mostly rough sketches, some more realistic, some more stylized like the Crane He presented the day before, all were presented with uncolored eyes possibly just unfinished but they bore a passing resemblance to other eyes she might be familiar with.

"Only had a few hours to get these down, a range of styles, a few colors, could go for traditional colorations, or just linework in the shape right shape with some colors splashed behind. Thinking maybe something with purples and oranges and yellows something like representing a sunrise." He says with a little grin.

"I could get used to seeing you like this, Togashi-san...no, hmm. Yoshi-kun?" She shakes her head, smiling a bit. Names would settle. "Relaxed, there's more warmth to you, an ease." Her own hand trails down his arm and remains a moment as he rises, the sweetness of that long kiss lingering on her lips. "The nights will spark more gossip, but with art as an excuse, and our own beds seeing us settled by morning...I think we can weather it when the reward is so high."

There's a small smile as she notes the uncolored eyes. They'll be brown on her skin, but she'll still now what they're meant to be, and the warmth of it, draws her over to slip an arm around his waist to look at the sketches side-by side. She's used to seeing something of the finished work in a sketch. "They're all beautiful."

Two are separated from the stack. One with the splashes of color suggesting clouds, or the colors that might normally be on its hide, another with the colors more contained within the linework. Indecisive, she holds first one, and then the other down by her thigh, where she'd usually see it once it's marked there, still leaning against Yoshiyaki. "So hard to chose, I may need the day to think on them, and tell you tomorrow night when you begin ...'painting?' it. What do you call your process of laying ink into canvas?"

He chuckled at her first address "Call me as you like, no matter what it is it will be sweet heard from your lips riya-chan." He said trying out the first shortening he could think of.

"And let them talk. I could care less what they think, but I understand if you wish to spare your future spouse the headache." He says with a little grin.

"Tattooing." He says simply as he looks to the ones she's chosen "they can be adjusted if you wish, well, until they are on your skin that is. You can have as much time as you'd like, we have a few days left here yet."

She blinks a moment, then chuckles. "Oh...of course that's what it's called. She leans against him, grinning. "Apparently I am your foolish flower, Yoshi-kun...moth-kun." Feeling the names out on her tongue as she sets the sketches down. "And it's not him I'm sparing. Winning this competition means we might negotiate for more with my marriage. Better terms, maybe a better husband?" There's a small hope to her words, but only a small one. "But shameful indiscretion? That might well renegotiate the other way. Worse terms...probably the same husband. So worse for my Family."

Turning, she looks up to him, all tousled braid and still-flushed cheeks, reaching to caress his cheek. "So we have the nights eccentric artists do...tea, and sake, and art, and..." the sudden hunger in her eyes speaks volumes. "...and the servants find us tucked sound in our own beds come dawn."