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Remnants	By : InnocentIntentions Category: +S to Z > Seirei no Moribito Views: 1607 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own Seirei no Moribito nor am I profiting from this work of fiction in any manner.

Chapter List
- 1-Remnants
- 2-Faltering
- 1
- 2
Notes:

Please forgive the delay, I was at my private university which disallows sites like this. I've been waiting all semester to post this chapter! If you would like to check for updates or read "Remnants" in a different format, visit http://archiveofourown.org/works/2029752/chapters/4403502
I am currently in the process of editing the 3rd chapter, so look forward to that! Until then, enjoy~

I am excited for you to discover where this is leading & hope you stay for the next portion of this fic! If you have any great hypotheses, shout them out in the comments :D If you are disappointed in the direction the course of this story will take in the next chapter please blame the recesses of my depraved mind.
Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own Seirei no Moribito nor am I profiting from this work of fiction in any manner.

        A saline mixture trailed down the nape of the man who was still absentmindedly hunched over the oozing pot of untouched porridge. He had not had a bite since Balsa’s disappearance. Sighing, the herbalist dismissed his bitterness as a consequence of the sweat-inducing heat, muggy September applying its severity to a mossy tunic bent on clinging to his skin.
        Wiping sweat from his brow, Tanda happened to glimpse Balsa’s form quietly slip from dense stalks and approach the pit. Turning abruptly in embarrassment, he busied himself by tapping off excess liquid from the ladle. After cleaning the wooden utensil on an available rag, he proceeded to add medicinal satchels into a tanned leather pouch all the while feeling the weight of her eyes upon his frame.
        Unable to withstand the overpowering tension rolling off his companion, Tanda scratched the back of his neck while sheepishly explaining,
        “I was foolish to think you could view me in such a way. The fault is mine. Please forget I mentioned anything.” Although maintaining a calm guise, his bluff folded beneath shot nerves that hammered through him upon not even receiving an acknowledgement. Ruffled, the man glanced upwards in order to survey her reaction. Expressionless. As expected of a renowned mercenary, his inner thoughts conceded with slight disdain. However, Tanda noticed an uncharacteristic glint filter through her typically kind gaze. Such a veil of hatred loomed across her orbs, an observation which prompted him to redirect their discourse to a lighter, non-threatening subject.
        “I-I suppose we ought to finish dinner where we left off,” He immediately gazed down into the simmering vat of beige-tinged paste; no longer able to withstand the intensity emitted from the one commanding the prolonged silence. Tanda rambled onward, fetching unused bowls from the ledge besides him, “There won’t be any room to store it for our journey as the packs are practically overflowing. So why not try another bowl? I’m sure you’ll be able to stomach this one, now that we’ve cleared up that former misunderstanding. Then we can adjourn for the night.” Scooping a portion into a hollowed gourd, he handed it to his companion with a half-lidded smile concealing pitted timidity,
        “After all, a good night’s sleep is in order if we’re to wake before the sun, right? Don’t worry, I’ll put the fire out once you’ve finished so go on ahead of me once you’re-ugh!”
        Trusting his lifelong friend, the shaman simply flowed with the sliding motion until he found himself lying prone against obtuse luggage. Startled yet composed, although confused as to why Balsa had suddenly pushed against him, Tanda curiously studied the upturned meal splattered onto the wooden platform beneath their feet. A misplaced grin tugged at his lips, the irony of experiencing déjà vu not lost on the arrested man. Surprisingly, he remained unfazed by the fact that the bowl had yet again been knocked from his hands.
        Silence, broken only by the rustling of wind and the occasional chirp of a suzumushi cricket, finally shattered once a shaken voice inquired,
        “Balsa? What’re you doing?” Instead of an answer, the woman’s tongue casually moistened her lips while surveying the man pinned against her side in a predatory manner. Uncomfortable, Tanda began to chuckle,
        “Enough games. You’ve had your fun. Now let me up so that I can-” Upon attempting to rise, he felt her grasp tighten about his wrists. Rotating his forearms, Tanda amusingly discovered he was unable to budge. Any humor found in his weakness soon dissolved when he noticed how serious Balsa’s countenance appeared, a solid mask that caused his brows to beseechingly demand clarification.
        Quietly the world spun as Tanda felt pressure impress his palms further into the bench as she leaned forward, her weight hovering over his torso constricted by powerful arms. Eyes widening, he observed the spear wielder’s lips part slightly, her mouth a hairsbreadth away from his own. Inhaling in shock, his breath was stolen by a pair of plush muscles which lightly brushed against his wind-chapped mouth.
        Folding into the implausible scenario, a rush of miraculous emotion exploded within his chest. Perhaps his confession was unexpected, prompting her to depart like a frightened deer only to return to the meadow of authenticity. Now the doe had blossomed into a stag prepared to stake her claim upon the man bowing to her initiative. Assuming this wondrous kiss established the pair as a couple, such an osculation surely legitimized his feelings. Lavished tenderness appeared to reciprocate the intentions and aspirations he had harbored since he first met the Kanbal woman all those seasons ago.
        Moments of bliss shifted to overlapping waves of delight with each brush of their lips. Basking in the glow that embodied the being bestowing such affection upon the enraptured devotee, heat emanated and rolled over Tanda in a roar until he could no longer endure the startling fulfillment of his dream. However, the vicious capture of his mouth suddenly turned those sweet affirmations into something more lewd. Overwhelmed, eyelids which had previously fluttered shut after the first movement against his lips, flared open again.
        A wet yet firm form inched its way between pursed lips; Balsa’s tongue having successfully invaded the once receptive mouth. The lithe muscle slithered past a partially closed aperture, the tip tapping the organ shying away. Light and rosy, a blush spread across tanned cheeks for never before had the sage experienced anything similar to this. The man’s virgin nature intact, in all regions and scope of the imagination, due to his devotion and single desire for the woman currently forcing herself upon him.
        Hesitative yet willing to allow her entry, Tanda swiftly began to shove the invader’s out as her tongue started to proceed further into his depths. Struggling beneath the ferocious kiss, Tanda shifted his wrists in order to grasp at her forearms. Still bound by her tight grip, he merely managed to gently budge so that she would become aware of his increasing discomfort. Contrarily, Balsa did not even notice or recognize his attempts, unaware of the hands palming against her for the pure focus was an animalistic drive to plow onwards.
        “Wait a minute, there’s no need to rush,” Tanda breathed lightly when he managed to break free, head awhirl, “I’ve been longing for this moment far longer than you know…so please, there’s no reason to prove yourself to me.” Yet his approval was not sought for Balsa renewed her attack, actually gripping the wisps splayed about the base of his neck to fully lock her lips to those of her reluctant partner.
        Securing his head in place, deft fingers caught in his hair tugged smartly, issuing a groan to bubble up from the shaman’s throat. Appreciatively, he allowed her intensity to rove through him, enabling his companion to sway their heated course further than he intended. Impassioned, a hand trailed experimentally upward to cup her check as she laced nimble fingers under the inky darkness of his scalp. Sighing in contentment, Tanda’s forgotten palm found its place along the curvature of her hip as Balsa conformed into the hollow of his chest. The tempo of their interlocked tongues increased significantly as the spear-wielder subtly began to gyrate against a leg she had signaled out to separate pale thighs.
        Responding well to the favorable presence brushing against his lower abdomen, a flash of his cherish one’s uncovered skin gleamed in the moonlight of a mind fogged by twilight. Guilt promptly admonished the holy man for allowing primal instincts to momentarily better him. Upon his consciousness’s accusation, his hand dropped from her face to graze down and still her shoulders.
        Feeling his return to stasis, a frown disturbed her brows, signaling her disapproval. Before Tanda could explain that his motionlessness was not a lack of interest but rather a form of respect, Balsa had spread her legs further in order to stride into his lean frame, vertically revolving on the expanse running from his kneecap to the hemline of his tunic. Such an uncharacteristic action caused him to firmly realize that she was not herself this night.
        Twisting away in embarrassment by the sheer imprudence of the matter, Tanda bitterly realized that he had concluded an erroneous assumption. The one he adored had not finally acknowledged his requited love for her by now venturing boldly forward in pursuit of him. Rather, Balsa was behaving too aggressively for her actions to be driven by affection. Additionally, he was put off by a weird spiritual energy emitting from the women who continued to intensify the rutting against his thigh. Furthermore her silence disturbed him above all else for regardless of all that he had admitted, she had yet to utter a single word to consolidate the sediments seeping from his released heart.
        “I-I think that is quite enough.” Surging upwards out of indignation, Tanda managed to overpower her grip. Displacing her arms as politely as he could, the confused herbalist promptly huffed in relief while swiftly detaching himself from hands seeking his green robe.
        “We ought to join the world in sleep, after all the moon is waxing high above and tomorrow is on its way. I am still uncertain of your…regardstowards me. I am truly a fool if all of this were merely a fluke of emotion or perhaps a heat-induced dream due to this engulfing humidity! However, even if a dream, it is one I gladly shall revisit when my heart grows restless in spite of itself.” Kindly, he squeezed her palm before motioning towards the watermill,
        “Morning will refresh both our sensibilities. Until then, let’s get some rest.” Assured that Balsa understood, Tanda ducked beneath the creaking wooden frame of the tarnished barn house. A posture of retreat disallowed the oblivious man vision to a savage passion stirring within scarlet orbs, a hindrance which consequentially masked the horrendous intent of the one trailing her quarry into the pitch.
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Remnants