The floor of the treehouse is nestled, carefully placed in the break in between a twin-tree trunk about ten feet off the ground. The panel in the center of the wood paneled floor opens to allow a rope to drop down, to give access to those welcome.
The house itself is sturdily built, mainly of pine panels. One wall is left mostly open, covered in a metal wire mosquito-screen. This makeshift window faces the lake, westward.
By itself, the place is scarcely furnished. A bedroll in the corner carries a work pillow, though a rolled-up sleeping bag is available for others. A clay pot in the opposite corner, by the window, smells of woodsmoke and coal, so it's obviously a firepot. A small frying pan leans against it, the bottom blackened by multiple uses.
Did someone call for 'tall, dark, and handsome'? Well, dark's fairly well covered, at least. Jet-black hair's pulled into a long, loose tail at the nape of his neck, a few stray strands about the face occasionally drifting into his almost equally dark eyes, the irises of which are a brown deep enough that one needs to look closely to find the pupil. Nut-brown skin that sets off the white of his teeth and eyes -- it could just barely be mistaken for a very deep tan, if one really tried. Tall is a miss; he's still several inches off six feet, and he probably won't ever get there. Handsome... well, not a classic beauty, to be sure, but well-proportioned, with a stunning, frequent grin and deeply expressive features. Slim, but in perfectly good shape.
He's clad in... well, black leather pants. Somewhat faded, well broken in, but nicely cut and really =quite= nicely fitted. A simple cream shirt is tucked into them at the waist; the collar of it's left mostly unlaced, the ends of the cord hanging down. Over that, he wears a decidedly well-worn old black trenchcoat, almost too big for him -- the cuffs hang down half-over his hands, when he lets them, and the hem hangs perilously close to his heels. Scuffed black leather boots with worn soles adorn his feet; there's a seemingly random collection of bracelets, all on one wrist, and several piercings along the upper section of each ear -- little silver hoops.
Unruly black hair, long enough to nearly reach the girl's waist, falls in tangles around a gypsy's face. Both the shade of the girl's skin and the cast of her features speak of a Mediterranean heritage: her nose is a little long, her cheekbones high, her complexion a mild olivine tan. Her eyes are not dark, but a peculiar shade of hazel-green. She is of a middling height for a woman, perhaps five and a half feet, lithe and lean, all whipcord muscle with barely an ounce of softness.
A sleeved tunic of pieced deerskin and rabbit fur covers her from throat to midthigh, with a strip of leather for a belt. Below it, her legs are wrapped in soft-tanned hides and furs, strapped on to above the knee.
A rustling comes from the branches below, as Safi's climb dislodges snow. There is a distant plop, and a crack as one of the laden twigs gives way under the weight.
The trapdoor in the bottom of the treehouse opens suddenly, revealing Ren's face. And his hair. He probably wasn't expecting company just now, not judging from his expression -- or his attire. "...oh," he remarks, startled. "C'mon up, beautiful." As if she weren't already.
Safi hoists herself nimbly through the trap, and scoots over to sit crosslegged on the floor. She grins at him. "I like 'zis house... you make?"
Serendipity finishes fastening enough of the buttons on the shirt he's pulled on to make himself feel presentable, and closes the door, grinning back at her. "Nah... I found. Seems like whoever made it cleared out, for a while at least." He gestures at the blankets covering one side of the house, and the various similar around the floor, particularly the little nest of blankets and pillows in one corner, "Like my stylish decor?" He drops down beside her, crosslegged himself.
Her smile deepens as she glances around. "Very much," she says lightly, looking back to him after a moment. "It is nice."
Serendipity inclines his head in acknowledgement; his hair falls about his face, and he reaches down to pull a tie for it from his pocket. "Glad you approve, lovely. So... how're you doin' tonight? Anything new and exciting?"
Safi shakes her head quickly, covering his hand with her own, forestalling the movement. "Do not," she says softly, reaching up to touch a dark strand.
Serendipity lets Safi stop him, with no protest other than a surprised blink, and the slightest quirk of an eyebrow. "A'ight," he agrees, giving her a faint smile.
She twists, turning to face him, running the dark silk through her fingers. The green eyes, though, lift after a moment to his.
Serendipity slips the tie back into his pocket, and lets Safi play with his hair, watching her quietly, curious but patient. His gaze doesn't flinch when she meets it.
The other hand comes up to touch his cheek and trace the outline of his jaw; then it rests behind the angle of the bone, exerting the gentlest pressure forward. She doesn't speak, doesn't make a sound--but her intent is clear, as she leans forward to kiss him.
Serendipity leans in to meet her; a slow, gentle movement, guided by her hand. He stays otherwise still, until she's kissing him -- and then he kisses her back, gentle and careful to start, one hand sliding up the back of her neck, the other finding a place to rest lightly on her leg.
She tips her head just so, lips parting against his. Eyes closed, she lingers in the kiss, tasting, tentative, one hand still stroking his hair.
Serendipity pulls the girl closer, kisses a little more deeply, tasting her mouth. There's a definite sense of restrained hunger, the more so as he, eventually, pulls reluctantly away, just an inch or so, and studies her face, then her eyes. There's a question in his he doesn't seem to want to articulate.
Safi says nothing, but when her eyes flicker open they hold something bright and wild, too unreasoning for words. The hand at his jaw slides back further, to tug him forward again for more.
Serendipity is not difficult to convince. He reclaims her mouth with his own, hesitantly letting the residual restraint slip. His fingers play over the back of her neck, up into the roots of her hair, and he unfolds his legs, shifting in closer to the girl.
Shifting onto her knees, she echoes his gesture, her hand raking into his hair, cradling the back of his head. It lasts longer, this time, deep and strong. Kneeling, she bends her head over his own, forcing his head to tip back slightly. Both hands tangle into his hair, hold him to the kiss.
Serendipity's arms find their way around Safi's waist, one resting there while the other caresses up along her back, both pulling her in more firmly against him. The dismissal of the hesitation is entirely a good thing; he kisses skillfully, but the passion behind it is more remarkable.
A soft, muffled sound comes from her throat. She drinks deep, her hands holding him, running through his hair. The lean body presses closer to his, hardly soft anywhere, all corded muscle and limb.
Serendipity murmurs something into the kiss in reply -- lord knows what, but the tone is all positive, and what more really matters? He breaks the kiss, eventually, to kiss along her neck, her jaw, just behind her ear, a scattering of soft little pecks.
Her breathing sounds harsh in the quiet, an uneven rhythm, out and then in and then silence. She tips her head to offer the arch of her throat, but her eyes look out into an unfocused distance, over his shoulder.
The invitation's taken without hesitation -- not just kisses, now, either. Little bites, licks, suckling softly at the skin, exploratorily; he's definitely paying attention to what reactions various ministrations seem to elicit -- mouth, hands, everything. He finds her lips again, after a bit, and the kiss is slow and lingering.
Her hands trail slowly from his hair; finally one is untangled, and reaches his cheek. A taste--another--and then slowly she draws away, green eyes flickering open to look at him.
Serendipity lets her draw away, though certainly not with any great eagerness or assistance. He leans in to catch the kiss for just a fraction, and then another, before finally letting her escape. His eyes, heavy-lidded, open again to meet hers.
Safi swallows, her hand framing the curve of his cheek. "Thank you," she whispers. One corner of her mouth tugs upward, the expression wistful, almost sad.
"...nng?" Ren asks eloquently, confused. He keeps hold of her, though it's more as if it hasn't occurred to him to let go than that he's trying to actively keep her there. "...for?"
"That," she says softly. Another swallow. There is color in her cheeks, and heat radiates from her body where it touches his own. "It is... not ze same."
"....any time," Serendipity replies, half-smiling crookedly, "...and it never is. The same." He studies her a moment, and leans into kiss her again, just a soft brush of lips to lips. "Is that... all you wanted to know?"
The wistful smile deepens a little. "No. But I think, maybe, it is good if I do not..."
Serendipity still has her so close... not letting go yet. "Ah. So... what have you found out, then? Just that it's... different?"
Safi nods minutely, closing her eyes and letting her cheek brush his. "It is good," she says softly. There is a hint of disappointment in her voice as she adds, "I do not think I love you the way I love Jack, and Justinn. It is... not so strong."
Serendipity tilts his head, nuzzling into the join of her neck and shoulder. "...Sorry?" he ventures, not entirely sure how she expects him to respond to that. "Prolly for the best, beautiful. Don't think it's made the people who thought they did happy." He shifts his shoulders, something like a shrug, and lets his hands shift a little, appreciating the form beneath them.
She kisses his cheek lightly, and draws back a fraction, enough to look into his eyes. "You are different," she says, her smile returning a little. "Like, brozzer, or... pack. Is good."
Serendipity looks a little ambivalent. "Well. That's the first time anyone ever kissed me and decided I was like a brother," he remarks wryly, and loosens his hold on her a bit. "I mean, I know people think I'm a slut, but I was never =that= close to my sisters, honest."
Safi looks confused for a moment, and then blinks. "No, it is... I do not ...mean to upset you. It is only... it is nice, but feels... different, to me."
Serendipity moves one hand to tuck bits of Safi's hair gently behind her ears while she speaks, and lets go completely when she finishes, flopping right down on his back, hair everywhere. "'Nice' isn't quite what I was goin' for," he admits, still wry, and sighs, stretching out full length, arms sprawled above his head, and shifting a touch, as if not quite physically comfortable there. "I mean, not that I don't get what you mean. I love you like a sister, too. Except, y'know, some weird kind of sister where it wouldn't be sick and creepy that I still want you."
"I want, too," she says softly. "Only it is... pleasure. Not... it is hurting, not to have. It is like that, wis' Justinn." Safi trails off, and gives a tiny shake of her head, her cheeks flushed. "I think I go, now," she murmurs. "Is good if I go."
"Well," Ren remarks philosophically, "that's a'ight, then. I'd much rather be pleasure than pain." He reaches over and grabs hold of her hand, pulling his toward him. "C'mere, lovely. Give me a proper g'night?"
She looks to him, and swallows, her eyes meeting his with a flicker of startlement. On her knees, she leans over him, lets herself fall, dark hair veiling them as it falls down around her face. She closes her eyes, and then her mouth comes down on his own, gently.
Serendipity slides his free arm up around her, drawing her gently down, and kisses her, long and slow and sweet, more tenderness than outright hunger in it, for now. The hand on her wrist is loose and unrestricting, just warm against her skin.
Propping herself on an elbow, she lingers for a long, breathless time, drinking in the sweetness of it, answering him in kind, warm and soft.
Serendipity breaks the kiss, eventually, with another little sigh, this one rather wistful, and meets her eyes again. "Woulda been something," he murmurs, with an uncharacteristically tiny smile.
Her brow furrows slightly, and she cocks her head; after a moment she understands, though, and a wistful echo of his expression comes to her lips. "You /are/ somesing, Ren," she says quietly. A fingertip brushed lightly across his lips--fleeting scent of pine resin--and then she slides away from him, rolling to her feet with that animal grace of hers, and shaking out her hair. "I do not want nothing to happen to you," she pronounces ruefully, slanting him a look through dark tangles.
Serendipity laughs once, propping himself up on his elbows to regard her more easily. "Yeah, well -- me neither," he replies, with something much more like his usual grin. "...I won't tell anyone who's gonna want different if you don't."
Her expression remains appallingly serious, as she nods. "I do not want Jack to hurt nobody, eizzer," she says quietly, in a voice touched with worry. Then she bends down to exit through the trapdoor, dropping out of sight.
"G'night, beautiful," Ren calls quietly after her, and closes the door behind her, leaving her to the night.