I've been looking for a replacement name for male!Ziio but I can’t find one, so he’ll just go by the nickname ‘Ziio’. I hope OP likes this! ---------------------------------------
Sometimes she found herself missing him.
As brief as their encounter had been, Heather had found herself enjoying the company of the young native man, Ziio (Fortunately, he shortened his name to something more manageable for Heather to pronounce). During the months where she'd been scheming with him to take out her former brother-in-arms, Edward Braddock, she'd noticed that there was a subtle hint of something for the native man besides camaraderie.
It had started out slow, like a sloppy pile of sticks as the foundation.
She'd helped organize a rescue of his people being sold as slaves (a credible plan on Hickey’s part); something of which he'd never thanked her for in the end of it all. Once he was free, it felt like forever before they met again. She, with the help of her ever loyal Charles, had tracked him down to an encampment outside of Lexington. When she caught up to him, she'd spoken to him in broken English, resulting from her breathlessness. He'd surely taken her speech the wrong way for he replied back to her in the same slow and choppy pattern, and she realized how stupid she must have sounded. She'd shown him the precursor amulet and he promised to show her where the cave was, if she helped him deal with Edward "The Bulldog" Braddock.
More kindling to the pile.
During the time they were planning to take down Braddock, Heather began to take an interest in Ziio. He was a nice looking man, a pure Mohawk man, tall with limbs that went on for days. His dark hair laid in two braids draped over his broad shoulders, two feathers planted in the base of one of the braids. His clothing gripped tight to his strong frame, all furs and ornate jewelry and deerskin boots. She'd caught herself staring at him quite a few times, but was quick to remind herself that the situation with him was only temporary, that he'd soon be a fleeting memory in the back of her mind and she need not get attached.
He'd saved her from a bar fight (more like aided her, for she was the one who started the scrap) defending her from a group of crude redcoats, and she felt the attachment inch to the forefront of her mind. As the adrenaline faded and they came back to the present, he'd tended to a shallow cut on her forehead, something she felt there was no need to do. She'd pointed this out to him but he only snorted and cleaned her up, showing that half-smirk she was growing accustomed to. They locked eyes, her heart beat faster, his fingers grew warmer, and time itself came to a halt. ‘This is only temporary.’ she told herself.
The kindling was ignited.
Their bond had gotten tighter the longer they stayed together. His quick glances at her turned into longing gazes, her cocky smirks at him became soft smiles, fleeting touches grew longer, and her attachment to him made itself known. The days leading up to Braddock's assassination, when they were in camp together, she'd found herself wandering to whatever location Ziio had been in, and staying longer every time. He paid her no mind, smiling at her when he got the chance and chuckling at her flustered faces. Those nights, when the rest of their party was dead to the world, they'd sat up and shared conversations by the moonlight, letting their real selves slip out.
Then Braddock was dead at her feet and Heather was demanding Ziio hold up his end of the bargain and take her to the precursor cave. She'd been overtaken by disappointment when the amulet did nothing but glow and fade in the presence of the precursor symbols. All of the time and energy and sweat and spilled blood wasted for a quick flicker of light that faded into nothing.
She'd wanted to pull her hair out.
Instead, she'd asked Ziio what the symbols on the cave wall meant and he'd smiled softly at her and slowly explained the tale of how his people believed they were created. In the midst of it all, he managed to drag a hand across her shoulders to her back before finally grabbing her hand.
They fit together perfectly.
Then the silence set in. The look of genuine affection in Ziio's warm brown eyes as he stared down at her made the breath catch in her throat and her mind deduced that the attraction had evolved into full on infatuation.
No, infatuated wasn't the word. She was smitten (that didn't seem to fit either but the l-word felt too strong) with the native man before her, holding her hand. Oh how her dear father would love to see this, rest his soul.
Then her logical side kicked in and she started to babble about how she was grateful for Ziio's kindness and that she had to go but Ziio's hand on the side of her face and the warmth of his hand over hers kept her rooted where she stood. She'd wanted to go, her mind screamed at her to just go but the look in Ziio's eyes melted her heart, his lips were on hers.
Fill: Baby Love Child
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Sometimes she found herself missing him.
As brief as their encounter had been, Heather had found herself enjoying the company of the young native man, Ziio (Fortunately, he shortened his name to something more manageable for Heather to pronounce). During the months where she'd been scheming with him to take out her former brother-in-arms, Edward Braddock, she'd noticed that there was a subtle hint of something for the native man besides camaraderie.
It had started out slow, like a sloppy pile of sticks as the foundation.
She'd helped organize a rescue of his people being sold as slaves (a credible plan on Hickey’s part); something of which he'd never thanked her for in the end of it all. Once he was free, it felt like forever before they met again. She, with the help of her ever loyal Charles, had tracked him down to an encampment outside of Lexington. When she caught up to him, she'd spoken to him in broken English, resulting from her breathlessness. He'd surely taken her speech the wrong way for he replied back to her in the same slow and choppy pattern, and she realized how stupid she must have sounded. She'd shown him the precursor amulet and he promised to show her where the cave was, if she helped him deal with Edward "The Bulldog" Braddock.
More kindling to the pile.
During the time they were planning to take down Braddock, Heather began to take an interest in Ziio. He was a nice looking man, a pure Mohawk man, tall with limbs that went on for days. His dark hair laid in two braids draped over his broad shoulders, two feathers planted in the base of one of the braids. His clothing gripped tight to his strong frame, all furs and ornate jewelry and deerskin boots. She'd caught herself staring at him quite a few times, but was quick to remind herself that the situation with him was only temporary, that he'd soon be a fleeting memory in the back of her mind and she need not get attached.
He'd saved her from a bar fight (more like aided her, for she was the one who started the scrap) defending her from a group of crude redcoats, and she felt the attachment inch to the forefront of her mind. As the adrenaline faded and they came back to the present, he'd tended to a shallow cut on her forehead, something she felt there was no need to do. She'd pointed this out to him but he only snorted and cleaned her up, showing that half-smirk she was growing accustomed to. They locked eyes, her heart beat faster, his fingers grew warmer, and time itself came to a halt. ‘This is only temporary.’ she told herself.
The kindling was ignited.
Their bond had gotten tighter the longer they stayed together. His quick glances at her turned into longing gazes, her cocky smirks at him became soft smiles, fleeting touches grew longer, and her attachment to him made itself known. The days leading up to Braddock's assassination, when they were in camp together, she'd found herself wandering to whatever location Ziio had been in, and staying longer every time. He paid her no mind, smiling at her when he got the chance and chuckling at her flustered faces. Those nights, when the rest of their party was dead to the world, they'd sat up and shared conversations by the moonlight, letting their real selves slip out.
Then Braddock was dead at her feet and Heather was demanding Ziio hold up his end of the bargain and take her to the precursor cave. She'd been overtaken by disappointment when the amulet did nothing but glow and fade in the presence of the precursor symbols. All of the time and energy and sweat and spilled blood wasted for a quick flicker of light that faded into nothing.
She'd wanted to pull her hair out.
Instead, she'd asked Ziio what the symbols on the cave wall meant and he'd smiled softly at her and slowly explained the tale of how his people believed they were created. In the midst of it all, he managed to drag a hand across her shoulders to her back before finally grabbing her hand.
They fit together perfectly.
Then the silence set in. The look of genuine affection in Ziio's warm brown eyes as he stared down at her made the breath catch in her throat and her mind deduced that the attraction had evolved into full on infatuation.
No, infatuated wasn't the word. She was smitten (that didn't seem to fit either but the l-word felt too strong) with the native man before her, holding her hand. Oh how her dear father would love to see this, rest his soul.
Then her logical side kicked in and she started to babble about how she was grateful for Ziio's kindness and that she had to go but Ziio's hand on the side of her face and the warmth of his hand over hers kept her rooted where she stood. She'd wanted to go, her mind screamed at her to just go but the look in Ziio's eyes melted her heart, his lips were on hers.
This was supposed to be temporary.