Makings of a Monster

Her place had large windows and the walls were painted white. The impression was one of lot of light and space. She didn't have much furniture either. The doorway had a rack, probably the kind she had mentioned before, and she left the sword there.
- "This place is very different from anyone else's home," remarked Sarevok.
- "It is more of the style of my homeland. I like it that way," answered Tamoko.
- "I like it too. How come you decided to settle here in Ordulin?"
- "Here is as good as anywhere else," shrugged Tamoko. "I rode all the Golden way to the west, and served a while in the Impiltur militia. I just wanted change, though, so I traveled in Sembia by boat, and when I head about the Iron Throne militia I decided to give it a shot. Being a mercenary is a bit like being a ronin. Sometimes, though, the fate leads us somewhere for a reason."
Sarevok wanted to believe that fate had a hand in this.

- "So what about you, Sarevok? You are the son of that man Reiltar Anchev. The important one."
- "STEPson." Sarevok's face flashed with displeasure and Tamoko was startled.
- "Oh. What about your mother?"
- "My mother is a lovely woman. She has always been there for me no matter what I do. She is good and gentle and..." Sarevok's voice trailed off. Tamoko could see the genuine attachment he felt, one flavored with an ache she didn't quite understand. She was a bit confused too. Was she his stepmother, or had Reiltar married Sarevok's real mother? She was afraid to ask. Apparently Sarevok wasn't too fond of Reiltar. And yet everyone who talked about them seemed to think it was a lucky thing to be son to the merchant.

- "And then there is Winski."
- "I have heard him mentioned too. The mage."
- "Yes... he lives in our house. He has been my tutor, and we also work together. The Throne kind of work, you know."
- "Of course, mercenary work," nodded Tamoko. "But he is also Reiltar's personally hired magician or so they say."
Sarevok seemed amused about the comment.
- "Well. He is close to me anyway. He has always helped me and taught me more than just... things and knowledge, if you understand."
- "I think I do."

They were quiet for a moment, looking at each other, savoring each other's looks but trying not to be too obvious about it.
- "The sparring?" suggested Tamoko.
The dojo was a large room which had nothing but curious mattresses on the floor. They were tough but resilient, and Tamoko called them tatamis. They made the little bow before entering the dojo, and Sarevok felt a little foolish. It was probably just that he hadn't used to it. For Tamoko it seemed to come just as easily as talking or breathing. She was so enchanting, so different from anyone. So noble and proud and such a warrior... Sarevok tried to get his head function normally, but it didn't quite seem to work.

- "Like that, strike at me... no, don't hold back, I can handle this, I promise," Tamoko instructed Sarevok. He reluctantly did so, and suddenly Tamoko was holding his hand in a grip and he couldn't move it one inch without causing pain to himself.
- "Look, it is like this. Let's do it slowly... you strike at me, I move this way, grab you here and now the force of your own strike causes you to fall forward and your wrist gets locked... and I don't need force at all, just hold it..."
It was amazing. Sarevok tried it himself, and after a few tentative ones he started to get the hang of it. It felt amusing, using such technique with Tamoko's slender hand in his huge ones, but he still understood the idea.

They tried many different techniques, falling down and getting up quickly, escaping from different grabholds, spotting openings in other's defences and taking advantage of them. Finally, quite exhausted, Tamoko was about to explain to Sarevok what to do if she was lying on her back and Sarevok was lying on top of her. Her voice trailed off and she stopped moving her hands, which were resting on Sarevok's head. They just looked at each other, so close that they could feel each other's hearts beating. Their lips were an inch apart from each other.
- "Sarevok..." whispered Tamoko.
- "Y...yes? I didn't mean..."
- "Not just like this..."
- "Have you ever..." he blushed furiously.
Tamoko shook her head. Her eyes sparkled so that Sarevok dared. They pressed their lips together. Carefully, gently. Then little less carefully. Sarevok felt her fingers caress his head.

Her presence and the kiss did what Winski's words could not. Made the familiar ache come without the ugly voices and images. Just Tamoko, lovely Tamoko, her little, compact body, sparkling, almond eyes, sad smile, delicious mouth.
- "Should we wait before... you know?" asked Sarevok. Suddenly he was scared. How exactly did you do it? What if it didn't work? Good thing she hadn't done it either.
- "I don't think... the minute I saw you I knew you are different." Sarevok knew all right.
- "We could wait but then we could die tomorrow, and never know how it would have been," she continued.
And first it was sweet, if a bit clumsy, as they both were shy and tried not to hurt the other but then they noticed there was a rhythm to it, and so many pleasant places to touch, and once it was over, lying next to each other was as sweet as the act itself, and Sarevok's heart felt so filled with emotion that he cried, not because he was unhappy.

They were facing each other and sighing, drinking each other's eyes.
- "Your head has a beautiful shape," murmured Tamoko, caressing it. "You would look gorgeous if you shaved it. Not that you don't already."
Sarevok wondered how many days he would have to wait before he could do that so that it wouldn't appear ridiculous.