Tavaar - 60th Edition

I'm waiting for the right place to break. Then I'll leave off from Tavaar for a while.

The authority in her voice made everyone stop. Everyone relaxed and let go of her. The party spirit had left, replaced by reproach. Tavaar sat back up. Part of her regretted it, but it had been necessary. Only Khaiu and Sashwa were able to meet her eyes with their own. She reached out and accepted the patch from Shello's hand.

“Thank you, Shello. I will be honored to wear it. I shall sew it on later.”

Shello nodded.

“No. Let’s go back to the hut. I’ll sew it on for you now,” said Sashwa. Tavaar protested, but Sashwa insisted. “It won’t take long. Everyone’s eager to see it on you.”

It was evident Sashwa would pester until she got her way, so Tavaar relented. It was clear the patch was just an excuse to get her alone. Tavaar suspected Sashwa wanted to complain about her behavior. When the flap dropped, she prepared herself. Only Sashwa was not critical. She was apologetic.

“I’m so sorry, Darling. I don’t know how it happened. I – I guess it just felt like old times again, and I forgot everything else. I broke my word to you. I’m sorry.”

Tavaar gave her a hug and a kiss. “It’s okay. I understand. I was part of it, too.”

“Do you think General Sampka was watching?”

Tavaar sighed. “Yes, I expect he was. But there’s no use fretting about it now. The fire has been drained from that sword.”

“So what do we do?”

Tavaar smiled. “We do the best we can with what we’ve got. Meanwhile, you got to sew this on like you promised.”

“Okay. Take off your tunic. Or should I sew it on while you’re wearing it?”

Tavaar began lifting her tunic up.

“Hands or eyes. One way or another you’re going to grope me, aren’t you?”

Sashwa giggled. “Maybe I should put a patch on your britches.”

Tavaar tossed her tunic into Sashwa’s face.

“Shut up and sew.”

It didn’t take long for Sashwa to sew on the patch, despite making the effort to do a good job. Surprisingly, Sashwa was quite good at many tasks normally regulated to servants, as was Tavaar. They each took pride in not only being able to do these things, but in being good at them. Partly, it was their competitive natures. Neither like being inferior at anything. But there was a practical side, too. Both were hunters, and hunters in the field generally did not have servants to attend them. Tavaar slipped her tunic back on and stared down at the patch, now sewn prominently between her left breast and shoulder. Unconsciously, her hand came up to caress it.

“Now who’s groping you?” asked Sashwa. Tavaar looked up. Sashwa had knowing look in her eyes. “That’s your hand. Not his.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” snapped Tavaar, dropping her hand behind her back.

Sashwa only chuckled. Then she slid forward and gave Tavaar a warm hug and kiss. “It’s okay, Darling. It really is.”