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Emerald dreaming	By : bazile64 Category: +S through Z > Wakfu Views: 2628 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Wakfu is property of Ankama, I make nor claim any profit from this fanwork

Chapter List
- 1-Emerald dreaming
- 1
She ran. Before the cheers could go up, before the Sadida refugees, hiding in their sanctuary beneath the gnarled roots of the hidden pine grove, before anyone else could register the results of the terrible battle. She flew through the canopy, not paying any conscious attention to where her feet landed. (This was her home, after all, and she already knew every tree within a 50 mile radius down to the twig, to the leaf.) Her body moved instinctively as her mind shrieked. There was still a chance, there had to be. He couldn’t be gone.
The second the Sadida king had proclaimed that the tree of life had been saved Eva had felt her mind snap. She had been falling down a deep well of despair and sudden, burning, grief but now all that filled her was a desperate hope. The tree of life. It had conjured up Tristepin before, and within that vision had also produced the ghost of the Sadida queen. The ghost’s words rang over and over in Evangelyne’s mind offering that daring, maddening glimmer of hope; “My presence here is due to the Tree of Life, now everything will be all right”.

“Everything will be all right. Be all right. Be all right, Tristepin!” she gasped in between gulps of breath. Her muscles were screaming at the archer, fast depleting the reserves of energy Evangelyne’s adrenaline was supplying from the battle. But Eva could no longer fit the concerns of her body into her head, which was already full of the traitorous madness of hope.

She bounded across the abandoned Sadida city, clearing marketplaces and homes, drawing further in to the inner ring of giant trees. She climbed the vines leading to the throne room, not even wanting to wait for the giant flower-elevators to take her to the top. Besides, she had no plant magic to summon the monstrous blooms. Her power was in sharp eye and deftness of hand; for all the good it had done to protect those she had loved from Nox and his forces. But not even the rage she had initially felt a scarce twenty minutes ago could find purchase in her stream of consciousness. She had to focus on her one chance, her one saving grace, lest her disbelief break the spell. She didn’t dare entertain other possibilities, didn’t even allow herself what most would refer to as optimism. There was only her willpower, and she meant to bend the cosmos with it.
Finally she plowed into the throne room, tripping down the long passage to the sacred ground at its core. Her bruises protested her rough landing, and she drew fresh blood from her cheek as it scraped along a wooden step marking the way to the holy isle in the center of the palace-tree. She scrabbled to her feet and lunged toward the wooden hut underneath the glowing bark of the tree of life, taking the steps two at a time. She saw the avatar of the tree, resting peacefully within the hut, its color slightly drained. Its eyes were closed, and it seemed limp, inanimate.

The rage that had been knocking on Eva’s mind finally found a crack in her iron will. She roared at the doll. “How dare you sleep!?! We-He just saved you; I cannot waste time while you nap!” She raised her leg to kick the puppet but settled on a roundhouse kick to the wall of the structure. The tree’s light rippled brightly for a moment, and a subtle, soft rustle came from within its boughs.

Eva’s desperation took on the tint of anger and violence. “Talk to me!! I know you have him! You had the Queen! Surely he has done as much for you?! Tell me you have him, let me see him! Please!?” she sagged, and caught herself against the smooth trunk of the tree. The patterns of wakfu danced behind her eyelids even as she squeezed them tight shut. Eva pressed her heart to the tree. Flickering warmth ran up and down her torso, and she hugged the tree tighter. “Please.” She said, much quieter and more reverent. “Let me see him. Please.” She whispered, like a prayer.

Suddenly she was struck by an overwhelming, bone-deep weariness. It was if gravity itself had intensified in the wake of her loss. Eva’s face relaxed, her heart-beat slowed, and the last thing she remembered before her thoughts faded to silence was the brush of dry leaves against her shoulder.

She awake to the sound of lapping water. She felt warm all over, and there was soft sand pressing against her curves. She could make out fluctuations of light, pink light, even before she opened her eyes. For a moment she had no memory, just the sensation of floating in a cloud of bliss and heat. There was no time, no battle, no pain and the world contained no evil. But alas, the bliss could not last, and she rose onto her elbow, rubbing her eyes with her left hand. Recognition of her surroundings dawned, and as she looked around her she was somehow not surprised to find herself in the same place that her dream-Tristepin had confessed his love to her. The water was a rose-peach color and the light was of an eternal golden

afternoon, dotted with the occasional turquoise flower.
The fog was still around her thoughts when she spotted the figure. He was tan and muscular, in a lanky sort of way, and his limbs were sprawled out every which way on the sand. The tattered tunic he’d re-purposed as a cape half-draped over his torso. His feet were bare and his hair long, different than she had ever seen it. Instead of proudly flaring toward the heavens it was shaggy and humble around his shoulders and down his back. It looked soft.
Still in a daze, she rose and went to sit beside him, thinking how nice it was to be so natural around him, to sit beside him like it was nothing, like they had sat beside each other a million times, and would sit beside each other for a million years to come. Tristepin looked at her, confident and sure and there. Her hand brushed his as she sat, and they looked into each other’s eyes for a brief moment. And as if they’d had some unspoken agreement beforehand, they simultaneously leaned in for a kiss. She hadn’t thought about it, just done it because it seemed so right and suddenly her brain had caught up with her lips. Her eyes threatened tears but she pressed her lips harder against his, to make the moment last, to make it truly count.
They parted briefly, panting slightly. They blinked at one another and blushed, a light rose over her freckles and a faint crimson over the sun-beaten cheeks of the knight. Tristepin opened his mouth as if to speak and Evangelyne tapped her finger on his chin to silence him before claiming his lips again.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she threaded her hands through his unusually downcast hair, and she let his hand draw her leg against him as they wrapped around each other. Their lips drank each other in, lapping at one another like the tides. Evangelyne pressed her breasts to the hard muscled wall of his chest and sighed into his kiss. His left hand cupped her cheek gently, fingertips curling around the base of her jaw, like he was cradling a tofu chick, newly hatched. She had never felt so precious, so fragile and yet as strong as she did within his arms. Unlike Armand’s dominating stolen kisses, Tristepin asked nothing of her she did not freely give; he did not tread where she did not lead. And yet the fire in her heart was stirred by his obvious desire for her, his obvious gratitude of her touch.
She tore herself from his mouth to pepper kisses along his throat and had to stop because he had pounced on the line of her jaw. When he reached her ears, she let out a cry of pleasure that he seemed to mistake for pain.
“Eva?” He questioned, finally speaking, almost breaking the haze around her thoughts, “did I do something wrong?” he breathed, a hitch of doubt in his voice she found all the more attractive for its meekness, and she shook her head.

“No…it actually felt…” she blushed, “really good…”

Tristepin’s face took on a more familiar toothy grin. “That’s good then.”
He set upon the flesh behind her earlobe with gusto, reveling in her little whimpers of pleasure. From behind her ears he made his way down her neck, lapping softly at her pulse, fluttering against his tongue. Eva’s hands drifted to the bleached linen of his cape, clutching at the fabric as he laved attention to her collarbone.

He stayed there for a long time, eventually coming to tuck the crown of his head under her chin. She sensed his hesitation in the way he panted against her skin.

“Tristepin? What’s wrong?” she said, shaking some of the pleasurable stupor from her mind.

“I want to, I want to touch you.” He blurted, “But I don’t want to screw it up…”

Eva combed her fingers through his loose hair, and gently tugged on his scalp to make him look at her. Her leaf-green eyes were unfocused and half-lidded from pleasure.

“Tristepin.” She said, tracing a finger against the dark burn on his cheek. “Touch me. I want nothing more than to feel you against me.” She took the hand from his hair and placed Tristepin’s hand upon her breast, squeezing it gently. “I am yours, my heroic knight.” And with a sound that could have almost been a moan, almost been a cry of joy, Tristepin’s surged against her, knocking her against the sand, pinning her with his weight. His lips scrabbled for hers, and the fervor of his kiss washed away all her rational thoughts, not that many had accompanied her to this warm place. His hand not holding himself above her was clumsily stroking the underside of her breast, and his hips ground against her. He was straddling her right leg, the other draped around his waist in the confusion of his enthusiastic kiss. The skirt of her dress was riding up her waist and she moaned into his mouth as she felt his erection grind against her core through their clothing. She felt hot, and dizzy, but also free and giddy, like she had just landed in a big pile of leaves after jumping from the highest tree in the forest.
She ached in a way she didn’t know she could ache, and a fire smoldered in her limbs that she didn’t recognize but embraced wholeheartedly. She pulled Tristepin’s body even tighter against her, and felt the vibrations of his moan ripple against her chest. His hand was on her waist now, fumbling to find the hem of her dress. A rational part of her mind wanted to get out and survey the situation, to assess and devise and make pro and con lists. But her body and heart quickly silenced the voice, and directed her hands to tug at his cloak, seeking more warm flesh. As Tristepin’s hands roamed, he found the top of her boot. Looking down at it,then glancing up at her, he began to peel the leather from her flushed skin.

while he drew her boot from her leg, his tongue was toying with the flesh behind her ears. Evangelyne shuddered and bit her lips.
He drew off her other boot even more slowly, returning to her mouth as he did so, sucking and nibbling at first the top, then the lower lip. When he was done, she wrapped her long legs around his waist and tugged his cape over his head. She caressed his muscles, kneading his pecs under her hands. Tristepin’s kisses were less fervent, slower, almost lazy, as he let her explore his physique. His hands toyed with the hem of her skirt, as if waiting patiently for their turn to undress her again.
Finally her hands returned to either side of his jaw. Tristepin seemed to take this as a sign and began tugging at her belt until it slid to her side, where its loops slipped off their ring with very little coaxing. Impatient, Eva suddenly clasped his waist tightly between her legs and flipped them over in the sand.
Embarrassed but determined, she took firm hold of the bottom of her dress and pulled the garment over her head in one swift motion. Tristepin’s eyes grew round as saucers, and suddenly he tensed, as if seeing her in all her glory upon his lap had suddenly clued him in him to what they were doing.

She was smiling sheepishly at him, self consciously holding her arms to her chest. The light breeze that seemingly came from nowhere and hit her bare back was almost accusatory in the slight chill it gave her.
“I’m sorry, I guess I must have taken it too far?” she murmured, dropping her gaze.

He laid a gentle but firm hand on her hip. “Eva.” Her heart fluttered at the desire in his voice. “You have nothing to be sorry about.” He sat up, shifting her on his lap and wrapping his arms around her slight frame. “I want whatever you are willing to give me.” And this seemed off somehow, from the Tristepin she had been expecting, she noted from somewhere very very deep in her mind. But she ignored it to savor the feeling of his arms around her, warming her and welcoming her to a home she hadn’t realized she missed. “I love you, Eva.”
They sat like that in silence for a while, eyes shut against the world outside the cocoon of limbs and flesh, listening to each other’s heartbeats and the far-more-distant sound of the water against the beach. She nestled her head against his shoulder, and he laid his lips against her forehead.

After several eons, Evangelyne raised her head and met Tristepin’s eyes.
“I love you too, you dolt.” She said frankly, but with affection softening her tone. “And no matter what happens from here, I want to have this memory to carry with me. I don’t want to regret not taking this chance. I want…” she paused as the final gear in her brain whirred into place. “You.” Click. Tristepin hid his face in her hair and clutched her to him; as if afraid she would fly away. “Eva” he said, and that was all that needed to be said.
Their lips came together roughly, insistently.Their hands scrabbled at their remaining clothes, both breathing heavily, the fire rekindled between them with a surprising ferocity. Tristepin fairly attacked her breast, drawing a pink nipple lightly between his teeth as Evangelyne squirmed and cried out. He arched as she stripped him of his britches and hissed into her throat when she brushed his erection with her fingertips. When he looked at her again his pupils were dilated, little more than pin pricks in the pale topaz of his irises. His breathing was ragged, as if he had run for miles.
“Eva…I…want you. So bad. But I…don’t know…I’m just some kind of idiot but I just want you to feel good. How?” her head was swimming so much she barely registered his words, but she reached for his hand and led it to the folds of her sex. “Touch me here.” She whispered, licking her lips. She maneuvered his fingers to brush against her core. “Inside.” She was blushing furiously but she willed herself not to care.
In some twisted way she felt a sense of triumph against the universe. Evangeline the steady, the good girl, the dependable, was going to take Tristepin as her lover despite what machinations the universe held for them after this moment. Even if this all faded away into mist, she was going to seize this time, this precious time-outside-time for herself and make him hers, make herself his, and claim it as a victory.
Tristepin hesitantly slid a finger into her, watching her face the whole time. His thumb happened across a little bead of flesh at the apex of her thighs and was rewarded with an almost violent shudder of pleasure from Evangeline. Grinning lecherously, Tristepin rubbed it again, combining the motion with a curling of his finger deep inside Eva. She moaned and undulated against his hand. Eventually Tristepin added a second finger into Eva as she writhed. He was intrigued by the way she got wetter the longer he pleasured her and Eva watched through a haze of lust as he lowered his tongue to her soft, deep places. She screamed, clutching his hair. Tristepin jerked his head up, all apologies until she drove his head back between her legs. “Do it again!” she commanded, breathless. “Don’t stop!”
Tristepin settled to his task with gusto and simple-minded good-will. he relished the way she thrashed against him and the amazing sounds she made in response to his attentions. Her thighs wrapped around his head as she ground into his face. Tristepin wrapped his forearms under and around her bucking hips, grinning at the cat-like mewls of pleasure eva let slip as he lapped at her folds. He’d never imagined that the restrained, cautious, overly-logical girl could loose herself like this. Tristepin’s ego swelled to know that it was him and his tongue to have caused such a loss of control in the beautiful cra, not some stupid prince or pinching boufball player. His hair she was almost tearing out by the roots in ecstasy, his lips smeared with the most intimate of her juices, his hands firmly planted in the plumpness of that perfect ass as she twisted and begged for more.
When his jaw began to ache, he untangled her hands from his hair and crawled up the length of her ravishing body.

Her nipples brushed against his chest as he resettled over her, and she couldn’t tell which she thought more arousing; the way his chest rubbed at the sensitive buds or how she could taste her own juices on his tongue. She was shivering beneath him. Evangelyne herself couldn’t tell if it was more from the attention he’d just paid her, or from nervousness at venturing so far outside the realm of her previous experience.
Whatever the reason, Tristepin noted her slight tremor and slowed down his kiss to hold her tightly against his body, lying as still as he possibly could. Heat radiated off his muscles. Eva slowly drew her lips across his before sliding her head away. Her hair had long since been tugged out of its practical dove-tail and slithered across the sand as she turned her head. She shifted her legs in the same motion, so that Tristepin was nestled squarely in between her hip bones. Even though she had been expecting it, the feeling of his manhood rubbing against the base of her torso made her gasp slightly and roll her shoulders forward in pleasure. Her pale throat caught Tristepin’s eye as she arched her neck and he gave it a long lick, following a vein up to the base of her ear.
“Tristepin.” She half whispered, half moaned, “inside, please, want.” And she blushed as she said it, wishing she could have thought of a better, cuter, or more sophisticated way to ask for what she wanted, but like most of that day (hour? Week? Millennia? Who knew?) her senses and emotions were overruling her logic and higher functions. She was just full of so much want it almost scared her, being swept away by a side of herself she’d never encountered before she met Tristepin.
Tristepin drew himself up onto his elbows, and slid his knees against Eva’s. He shifted back, and Eva could feel him fumbling against her skin, although she was too embarrassed to look herself. She was focusing; in as much as she was able to, on Tristepin’s face, on the steely gaze and absolute rapt attention he was giving her. His eyes seemed to swim with a host of emotions even as his mouth seemed set with determination. She saw desire and fear and pleading and need but mostly she saw love shining in his pale eyes and that overwhelmed her almost more than the furious ache of her body. She felt humbled by the strength of that look, by the gentleness of his touch as he coaxed her legs to spread just a bit wider for him.
“Pinpi-Tristepin,” she caught herself, “You’ve loved me for a long time, haven’t you?” She said with awe and reverence, and she punctuated the phrase with a little gasp as she felt the tip of his erection prod gently at her folds. “Yes.” Tristepin whispered. He seemed to be about to say something else, but then think better of it. She considered him for a long moment, then sat up on her elbows.
“Eva?”

“You made me feel so good,” she blushed, pushing him backwards.”I feel- I feel like it’s only right to return the favor.”
“but, I thought you wanted, I don’t need any favors, I just want to make you feel good, y-you don’t have to...oh Iop.” Tristepin said, his protests dissolving into a moan.
Eva had curled her long white fingers, calloused from her many years practicing the art of the bow, around his altogether different kind of shaft.
"Evangelyne…what, what are you…ahh," he gasped and arched his hips into her hand as her hand brushed along his length. "Doing?"

"Do...do you not like it? Am I hurting you?" Evangelyne hesitated. She had stretched out along-side him, her shoulder leaning against his.

"No! No! It feels wonderful…I just...ahh!"
Evangelyne had followed a prominent ridge from its base to another soft warm area that also fit invitingly in her cupped hand. She began massaging the mound gently, still staring at Tristepin's flushed face. Just watching him squirm was terribly arousing. Tiny beads of sweat rolled down Tristepin’s strained face. His mouth was set in what would have been a snarl if not for the escalating rapture in his eyes, the pleading and desperate set of his brows.
She glanced down at Tristepin’s manhood in her hands, the first thing she noticed was that while his erection itself was swollen and firm, the skin around it was amazingly soft and warm. She wrapped her hand round it, squeezing just a bit. It was such a foreign, novel Thing to be holding, and yet felt comfortable being in her hand. She had nothing to compare it to, to know for sure if Tristepin was any larger than the average male. At the base it was almost too thick to wrap her whole hand around, a slight gap appearing between her thumb and index finger. On the whole it seemed pretty large, and she started feeling half-way apprehensive of how it would feel inside her. She was starting to rub her palm up and down the length, exploring the feel of its ridges and knob. Tristepin squirmed and clutched at her arm.
“Tell me what you like Pinpin, tell me how to make you feel good.” Evangelyne purred, hoping she sounded less embarrassed than she felt.
"Here." He splayed her fingers on certain pressure points he knew well. "Try rubbing here. Like this." He guided her movements. "ah, Eva," He breathed into her ear. "That feels amazing." He let one hand fall to the sand as she picked up the pace. "Ah!" Evangelyne began to overcome her embarrassment with arousal and desire to please.
She kept her hand moving, slow, careful strokes at first. Tristepin gripped her to him and hissed "Faster. Please. Faster." His fingers on his free hand dug channels into the sand and the other clutched at her wrist ever harder. "Evangelyne!" She rubbed frantically, wanting to please him, wanting to help him, rubbing her leg against his calf, feeling her breasts rub against his side every time he squirmed against her hand. She was almost as short of breath as he was. He writhed, but was obviously trying to keep himself as still as he could so as to not hinder her. Her hand was starting to cramp from the awkward angle. She began to start to worry that she wasn't doing something right, that maybe she was hurting him. Tristepin then clutched at her, hard.

"Evangelyne!” he growled. Suddenly she was rolled on her back again,with Tristepin plundering her mouth with his tongue, having grabbed her shoulders with a roughness and ferocity that Evangelyne was thoroughly surprised by but liking. There was an urgency to his kiss, a great hunger that simultaneously overwhelmed and overjoyed her. Before long, he once again sought to part her legs. As he positioned himself over her he spoke. “Can I...are you ready?”
She gave him a little sheepish smile and rolled her hips against him slightly in reply. It was his turn to gasp as her action slid him inside. The muscles on his back rippled under her hands as he arched and slid from his elbows to resting his weight on his hands. Then, as if wanting to go all or nothing, he snapped forward, burying himself to the hilt inside of her. She cried out, clutching at him, digging her heels into the sand as she writhed against his intrusion. Tristepin, horrified that he may have hurt his beautiful Cra, started to try and pull out. He was stopped by a tug on his bicep. “No, I’m alright.” She breathed. “Just, let me get used to…it.” And he braced himself against her, carefully not putting his weight on her or giving into the primal side of his brain, which was begging to be let loose and repeat the amazing sensation of filling Eva. She was experimenting moving against him and was quickly discovering that her initial discomfort was more like being stretched in a new and not-all-together-unpleasant way.
Her experiments quickly turned from producing gentle winces to little shudders of pleasure as she undulated against Tristepin. The knight was sliding his hand along her hip, encouraging her movements that were becoming more and more confident. When she wrapped her thighs around his waist and dug her heels into the back of his calves he took it as a sign that she was ready for him to take a more active role in her pleasure. He used the hand on her waist to adjust her angle, dragging her across the sand a tiny bit to lock her hips against his. She moaned loudly, and then hastily bit her lips, stifling the sound to a breathy gasp.
He picked up a steady rhythm, sliding in and out of her, jarring her body against the sand like the surf lapping against the shore. She tried to keep her eyes on him, hoping to watch his expression but found herself unable to focus on his face. He was growing more erratic in his thrusts now, more forceful, and shockwaves cascaded through her body after every thrust. Her eyes rolled back into her head, her eyelids fluttering. Finally she gave up trying to watch him and gave in to the sensations, closing her eyes to better savor the feel of him. She arched into him, trying to match his pace, trying to open herself further, to be filled even deeper. All at once he pistoned wildly, ending in the deepest, most penetrating thrust yet, using his hands to bring her luscious hips crashing into him. His grip was strong, almost dominating. He let out a strangled cry as he came into her, which was quickly overshadowed by the drawn out ‘ah!’ of surprised delight from Evangelyne, coming just as he began to pump his sticky warmth into her.
She shuddered uncontrollably as his manhood pulsed inside her. Her skin felt electrified and ultrasensitive. Even Tristepin’s hot panting breath on her shoulder sent her convulsing against him. She clung to his shoulders.

“Tristeeepiiin…” she moaned. The knight in question groaned and tried to pull backwards but Evangelyne tightened her grip. She didn’t want to give this up yet, this feeling of being molded into him. Of being tangled around him, melding together. Irrational fears gripped her heart then, that somehow parting from him would break the spell and send her tumbling back to the harsh reality edging into her memory. Send her back alone to the base of the tree of life, sobbing against the cold harsh wood of the shrine.
They lay like that for time immeasurable, until Tristepin hesitantly murmured an apology into her neck. “Eva…” he groaned. “I hate to say anything…but, but,” and he looked at her sheepishly, embarrassment radiating from him, “It’s really soft now...I’m gonna pull out”

“Oh!” she replied, wide eyed and equally embarrassed. “Ok.” She consented, while keeping a tight hold on his neck with her arms.
Gently he detangled himself, rolling to her side as soon as he was free. Even as he did so he gathered her into his arms again.
Eva mentally sighed in relief, as Tristepin seemed as solid as ever, holding her tightly to his chest, idly winding his fingers through her hair. For a while she was more than content to lay there, trembling slightly with gentle aftershocks and letting her brain marinate in the warm stupor her post lovemaking hormones were so kindly inducing. It was hard to describe, as the sensation was like floating and yet she felt, if anything, more anchored the moment than ever. Her body was all at once numb and ultrasensitive, unable to process things like sounds, or air temperature, yet almost able to discern the pattern of Tristepin’s fingerprints as he pressed his hand against the small of her back. A blissful mental haze had settled over her thoughts, further enabling her to procrastinate thinking too seriously about the implications or reasoning behind what they’d done, how they’d come to be here, where exactly here was.
She held onto that bliss for as long as she could, but despite the pleasant warmth, despite the love still radiating in Tristepin’s eyes, the doubt and fear steadily crept back into her heart. Evangelyne clutched hard as Tristepin, squeezing her eyes tight against the images of his broken body, burying her nose against his chest to block out the memory of singed hair, charred flesh, attempting to instead fill her mind with his scent, his slight musk and the subtle wood-smoke smell she associated with him.
She hadn’t realised she was crying until Tristepin had cupped her cheek in his palm and was gently wiping away a tear with the pad of his thumb. Although his touch on her face was gentle, there was an object terror and panic in his expression that would have been adorable has she not been also picturing that same face with blood on it.
Tristepin’s distress over the trembling girl in his arms seemed to reach a high point and apologies tumbled from his lips like leaves in a windstorm.
“Did I hurt you? Was it too fast? I knew I’d screw this up somehow, just please tell me what I did wrong, I promise I can do better, just give me another chance.” Tristepin babbled, catching another tear as it spilled over the corner of her eye. His expression was one of terror bordering on self-loathing, his eyes wide.
Evangelyne slid her pale hand up one of Tristepin’s wrists to tighten around his palm, pulling the hand down to the level of her mouth, brushing a long kiss over his knuckles as Tristepin’s fingers curled reflexively around hers. As if by touching him, tasting his skin, she was once again reassuring herself of his solidity.
“Tristepin, dont you remember anything? the fight with Nox...the blast from that clockwork monster?” She asked quietly, her voice cracking slightly. She unconsciously rubbed her head against the hand still cupping her jaw. “It was terrible...” and she choked up again, fear and sorrow tightening her throat. Her hand tightened around his fingers.
“I...I...” Tristepin stammered, “I hadn’t really had a chance to think about it. One second I was in your arms, then I felt all warm and numb and tingly, then I was here with you.” He tried a weak smile as he tilted her head to look at him. “and you could say I was really distracted after that.” for a millisecond it looked like Eva’s face had attempted to make room for a smile, but it collapsed into a mournful lip-biting frown. Her eyes shifted away from him and refused to meet his gaze.
“Don’t feel sorry! Eva....” He blustered. Then he seemed to have a heart-wrenching epiphany that made even the hairs on his head droop.
“Eva, are we....are we both dead? Did I...did I fail to protect you, again?” and as he said this he reached for her, gathering her into a crushing embrace and burying his head into her hair. “Oh Iop, I can’t even die right.”
Eva’s eyes shot open in perplexed surprise. “Oh Tristepin, You don’t know where this is?” Her brow wrinkled. “oh, I guess you wouldn’t...”
“This isn’t the afterlife? I mean, yeah, I thought paradise had more singing and clouds and stuff but I thought, surely if Evangelyne’s here...kissing me...” He blushed. “doing...other things, with me...”
“and it didn't occur to you I was dead too until just now?” She sat up, raising an eyebrow at him.
“well, I mean, I thought you were something out of my head until you started crying...you never cry in my fantas-” and in a rare moment of brain-mouth coordination, Tristepin’s mouth slammed shut in self-defense.
(Which is an odd reaction when you consider that at that point the worst had theoretically already happened to him....but ‘consideration’ is never high on the keywords associated with Iops, unlike ‘odd reaction’ which is probably in the top 15.)
Eva, currently experiencing quite a mix of reactions to that unbidden confession, couldn’t quite bring herself to say anything, instead cycling through a series of ever more complex facial expressions. She wasn’t sure should feel flattered, disturbed, embarrassed, or incensed that Tristepin had been fantasizing about her. She supposed the kindest thing to do was focus on the idea that Tristepin’s vision of paradise apparently included her....assuming this was the real Tristepin and not some subconscious dream-version whipped up by the tree of life. Although it made her head hurt to think that this was what the tree had come up with.
Tristepin didn’t know what to make of her range of reactions either, other than to be at least grateful that she seemed to have forgotten whatever had been making her cry. It doesn’t help one’s confidence one bit to have the woman of your dreams start shedding tears after you make love to her.
The sad, soulful look was back though, and it didn’t bode well for a tear-free future. “I’m not the one who is dead Tristepin.” she said softly, slowly. “just you”.

In the dead silence that followed, you could almost hear the gears creaking to life in Tristepin’s head.
“Well, that’s far better than the other way around.”
“Pinpin!”
“whaaaat?”
“You're making it sound like you want to be dead!”
“Well, I mean, what does it matter as long as I died as a true knight should? protecting his lady? as long as you're still alive...although I confess I can’t think how you are here beside me if I am dead and you are not...”
“Of course it matters! you can only die once to save someone! any idiot can die once!” Evangelyne took Tristepin’s hands between her own and said more quietly, “A real hero lives to save her many, many times. Even if it is from her own loneliness.” She did not meet his eyes then, staring at the patterns in the sand their lovemaking had created.
“Eva,” he said, his voice dropping lower and softer to match her tone. “Why are you here?” He shook his head. “Wherever here is...”

“I came to see you, you cerville de iop!” She smacked his forehead with the flat of her hand, but there was no real force to the blow. She sighed dramatically. “Didn’t I tell you I loved you? I wasn’t going to let you go that easily.”
She waved a hand at their surroundings. “This is the tree of life, I thought that if anywhere, you’d be here...because...the last time I thought I had lost you I found you here as well.” She traced his knuckles with her thumb, a not-quite-scowl marring her features. “You feel so real to me here, Tristepin, how can I go back and live in a world that that took you away from me?”
“I still don’t get the part about the tree, but I do know that I would rather have a sad living Evangelyne than a dead one. Mon Cra,” he lowered his forehead to bump against hers, forcing her to look him in the eye, “You are a protector, too, no? I know you understand what it is like to place the safety of another above all else.”
He smiled wistfully, hoping she’d respond with a smile of her own. “Imagine if you had died to protect Amalia. Would you want her chasing your ghost to the underworld, vowing to never leave their side? It goes against what both of us know is right in our hearts. I leapt in the way of that blast,” and here he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him, “because I couldn’t bear the thought of a world without Evangelyne.”
At this, Eva threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his hair.

“How can you say things like that, that make me hate you yet make me love you more than ever!” she cried. Sighing against his neck, she said, “How could I have been such an idiot, to deny my feelings for you for so long. Think of all the time we could have had...”
Tristepin stroked her back with one hand while reaching for his discarded cape with the other. “Don’t cry, Eva.” He gave the cloth a shake, dislodging errant sand particles before handing it to her. “I was the one who broke your bow and drove a wedge between us. Blame me.” He took a corner of the former tunic and gently wiped Eva’s cheek, kissing it when he’d cleared it of tears. “Maybe...maybe since you should not stay in the land of the dead with me....maybe I could go back to the living world with you.”
Eva looked for a moment like she was going to break down into sobs, but much to Tristepin’s puzzled relief, she broke into a smile, wiping her eyes.
“Thanks for the offer Tristepin, but I'm pretty sure you're just an illusion caused by the Tree of Life.” She shut her eyes tight, half expecting that admission to teleport her out of the dream right then. When no paradigm shift was forthcoming, she peeked an eye open hesitantly. Tristepin was staring quizzically at her.
Tristepin’s face twisted into the lopsided puzzled eyebrow raise that it always did when trying to process complex abstract thoughts.
“I’m...just an illusion? but, but, I don’t *feel* like an illusion...I feel pretty solid, I think...” he rapped his knuckles on the side of his skull, wincing on impact. “yup, still feel solid.” he said, offering a smile.
Eva was feeling less amused. She stood up, strode and few paces to the edge of the sandbar and crossed her arms. “Oh come on, what else can you be, here, inside the Tree of Life? The last time I saw you here you felt solid then, it can’t be a hard trick to reproduce.”
“But I have all my memories, I’d think I'd remember being a tree.” he rose, rolling onto his knees before standing up.
“The tree must have created you from my memories. Can you honestly say you remember from before we met? What was your mother’s name? Your father’s? Where were you born?”
He hesitated to answer, which Eva was quick to pounce on.
“See, I knew you wouldn’t be able to answer, because you don’t know anything I wouldn’t know!” she sighed, irritation rasping in the sound. “This was fun, Tree of Life, but I think you’ve made your point, Tristepin is dead and there is nothing I can do to-”
“Chouelle. My mother’s name was Chouelle.” He spoke, softly, yet the undertone of pain in his voice made it scream volumes. “and I've never, ever told anyone. I don’t remember much from before I met Metre Goultard, but I do remember my mother’s name was Chouelle.”
He tried to smile at her, but it was a weak, pitiful thing. “of course I don’t have any way of making you believe me, since I never told anybody that you could go ask...” He was still smiling, trying to make light of that tiny little admission that had somehow cost so much to recall, but the light of his smile never seemed to reach his eyes.
Evangelyne, whose heart had already been taking an emotional beating over the course of that day, would have had to have been made of stone to not reach out to Tristepin. She stepped close to him, suddenly aware that they’d been naked for all that time and yet feeling completely at ease.

How is it we’re so much more comfortable around each other now? and yet, somehow, it feels right.
“I’m sorry.” she demurred, head bent. “It’s been a hard day.”
Tristepin blinked stupidly at her, then burst out laughing. His shoulders shook with mirth as he held his stomach. His laugh was so infectious that soon Evangelyne found herself giggling, as much at the fact he was laughing than whatever humor the Iop had taken from her statement. Eva hadn't realised till that moment how much she’d needed to laugh.
and Tristepin was almost as suddenly embracing her, still laughing, arms wrapped just below her ribcage. He picked her up easily and spun her around, her unbound hair swirling around her shoulders. She shrieked with surprise and delight. After four or five wobbling revolutions Tristepin tripped over his cape and they rolled over the sand, stopping nearly at the water’s edge. As soon as they landed Tristepin scooped Evangelyne back into his arms, his gaffaws dying down to the occasional chuckle. The fire seemed to have come back into his eyes, Eva was pleased to see. If she could have seen her own face at that moment, she might have noticed that the pale haunted look she’d been sporting for the last few hours had been replaced by a kind of rosy glow. Her eyes sparkled up at Tristepin, who rewarded her smile with a searing kiss.
“Gods, Eva.” Tristepin grinned after leaving her mouth thoroughly ravaged, her lips swollen and her eyes glossy. “With you at my side, I think I could do just about the impossible. I actually want to give coming back with you a chance.” His smile widened, his fangs somehow catching the light. “What people always underestimate about us Iops is that we’re too stupid to realise when something can’t be done, so we’ll try anything.”
Somehow, with his determined fanged grin staring down at her, Eva couldn’t help but feel a kind of insane hope.
“Eva, together we’ll cheat death himself! Almost as many heroes who die tragic deaths are known for escaping from the very brink of despair! with your brain and my fist, we’ll show the world that our love is greater than death’s sharpest scythe!”
Eva laughed again, hugging the redheaded warrior tightly. “One day you’ll have to write down your legend, Pinpin, because I don’t think I could ever do justice to your heroic speeches!”
“Our legend, mon amour. Our legend.” He corrected, brushing a hair from her face. “Oh Evangelyne! I had such a speech planned for you, for when the battle was over, to apologize for my actions and declare to all my deepest love and desire for you! Alas that fate has robbed me of that chance.”

His mouth twitched and a feint shadow of bitterness, lasting only a moment, crossed over his face. “Alas that I had to die to wring a love confession out of you....”
Evangelyne scowled, pursing her lips at him; annoyed, but without a retort.
Swiftly Tristepin changed tact, “but however it came about, I am truly the luckiest Iop in history, to have the fair Evangelyne’s favor and affection.”
She shot him a sly smile, “and have her lips?”
Tristepin’s face and voice lowered conspiratorially. “Oh yes. and have her ears...” He gave the nearest one a long, languishing lick. Eva squirmed

in his arms.

“and her neck...” he scraped his teeth down the line of her throat, the tip of his tongue trailing after, like a balm. “and her shoulder....” and here he kissed the roundness of her shoulder tenderly, running a gentle hand up and down her arm.
“ah! and these...truly, I am the luckiest male in all the World of Twelve...” as he spoke he took a breast in each hand, kneading them softly while kissing the flesh his palms couldn’t contain. Eva moaned loudly, cutting herself off sharply at the sound of her voice. Tristepin cocked an eyebrow.
“Don’t hold back, Evangelyne...I like hearing you enjoy yourself...” he trailed off, wrapping his lips around a pink tip and flicking his tongue rapidly against it. Eva gasped and felt herself grow steadily warmer.
“Shouldn’t we be trying to think of ways to get out of here?” she stammered, her rationality making a bid for attention. “Won’t we have time for this later?”
“We have time now.” he purred, sliding a hand south. He toyed with the fine curly hair that marked the path to her core while still pressing intermittent kisses upon her breast.

AN: tristepin’s mother’s name originally was a generic french woman’s name but I’d been hoping for a good pun to grace her with instead. recently, after rewatching episode 17, this little gem fell into my lap. go google translate ‘chou’ from french and hopefully you’ll get the joke ^^ let me know if you figure it out in the comments!
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Emerald dreaming