The priestess let out a yelp when she realised her feet were no longer touching the ground, and that she was in someone's arms. When she looked up and saw who it was, however, she relaxed. She'd never imagined a man could feel so strong. She'd been told that women were by far stronger, better fighters, and that men were... well, weaker. Either she'd been misinformed or this was one hell of an exception. With the energy pulsing through her veins, and her need to feel everything, she pressed her hands against his chest, up his arms. She felt the muscle definition under her fingers; she wanted to feel more.<br/><br/>The wind rushing past them felt like a wash of water, to Delaena. It engulfed them as Altair ran, picking up her hair and blowing it out of her face, playing with the hem of her skirt and her cloak. Before she even knew what was happening they were in her room. Her small room, hardly bigger than a closet. It was cosy, to say the least. With his hands moving over her, she couldn't resist returning the favour. Her fingers passed over his arms, up his neck to his face, stroking his jaw and his cheeks. Hesitantly, she traced his lips with her thumb. The wool of her cloak felt too heavy, and she shed the article, letting it fall, discarded, to the ground.<br/><br/>Without warning, Delaena leaned up and pressed her lips to Altair's, one hand moving to the back of his head. The other hand continued to explore his body. She'd never felt anything like him before.