<b>Allassiel allowed Thorgan to lead her to the training area, her mind still too cluttered with the news to protest, and listened as he told the elf what she wished. She couldn't help but notice the strange expression on the training master's face at her dress, but she merely gave a light shrug and followed along to a large room where both weapons and armour were kept for such an occasion.</b><br/><br/>“<b>Hannon le,” she murmured to the elf, who bowed to her before backing out of the room, closing the door behind him. Alone, she looked over the pieces of armour and quickly selected those that she guessed would fit her best before letting the dark green dress slide down her body. She stepped away from the pool of fabric and pulled on the leather clothes. They weren't a perfect fit, molding rather tightly to her torso, but as she shrugged and moved her shoulders, she determined she had plenty of motion. <br/>
<br/>
On her way out, she stopped by the rack of weapons, testing the weight of several swords before picking a pair of short swords that had met with a brief smile. <i>They may be training weapons, but the smith who made them was no apprentice. <br/>
</i><br/>
Stepping outside, she glanced over to where she'd left Thorgan, noting he was enjoying the evening view, the colors of sunset rivaled only by sights she'd seen in the old days of Greenwood. But Allassiel wasn't interested in sunsets right now. Striding over to the wood and straw dummies, she took stance before them, pausing only to check her distance before the first resounding ring of metal against wood announced her first swings, paired with an anguished scream of fury.</b><br/><br/><br/><b>Pegawen's mind was a tangle of thoughts, only some related to the presence of Araw – known to humans as Orome. The majority of them now resided on Lotharn and the way his hands felt against her skin and how his work hardened fingertips seemed to leave trails of heat along her abdomen. To her, it felt much like the rare occasion she'd imbibed in too much wine – the lightheaded warmth spreading through her body, leaving her almost giddy – yet more potent than even the strongest vintage.</b><br/><br/><b>She couldn't recall a single time that she'd felt anything so strongly, and certainly not from a mere touch. Her betrothed had always been gentle and reserved in their meetings, both of them following the elven customs for courtship. There'd been fondness and commonality between them, and an almost comforting sense of peace when he was around. <br/>
<br/>
But never once had he touched her the way Lotharn was doing, leaving her aching for more in a way she'd never one imagined. When his fingers brushed beneath her breasts she gasped, the pale pink nipples hardening in response. She reached up, covering his hands with her own as she trembled against him.</b>