then recoils to pinch the bridge of her nose and wipe at her face.
he hasn't changed and he's still so stupid.]
Because. [...] Because, it... [...........nrgh. she pinches a little harder, until it hurts, then straightens, head up, hands tightly folding in her lap. be a goddamn elf.]
Because...it puts the burden of expectation on you. Unduly. As I already have... [BE AN ELF!!!] Feelings. In your regard. The dynamic is unbalanced. I tell you, I will not bear the weight of an apology for you simply not knowing anything you weren't meant to know, regardless of what I may want.
[her eyes narrow. she'd say try me, bitch but she really doesn't want him to try, she's having a hard time here, why can't he put a shirt on.]
Quite a bold assumption for someone under the thumb of a would-be emperor. It stands as much to reason I'll have to watch you vanish yet again, no longer safely detached.
[well, there's the last of her patience and restraint. there it goes. bye.
while tugging to get her hand free:] It's wrong because I LOVE YOU, you thick-headed buffoon! [yank. oh and the tears, those are back.] And it isn't fair to you, because you do not know me! And it isn't fair to me! To play pretend by, by preying on you! I'm too old! [another tug.] Too old for this! For playing around! For make-believe!
[one more feeble tug before she gives up, heavily slumping back to the ground on her knees, her head falling into her free hand as she squeaks out a sob.]
[Those words hit harder than her magic ever did, and the stunned silence speaks for itself. She loved him? Him?]
[No one had ever spoken those words to him before. Not in the way she meant them anyway. And then there she was...sobbing into her one free hand...]
[Dumbly he looks down at her hand in his, small and delicate by comparison. Lady-like despite the scales. He finds himself tracing them with a thumb, calloused finger to rough scales.]
[It didn't feel so bad...really.]
[When he snaps himself from his thoughts, he peers at her from behind his bangs. There was a lot he didn't know. There was a lot he wasn't sure he'd ever know. But he knew that right now, seeing this beautiful woman so distraught, over him no less, hurt his heart to its very core.]
[He takes her hand, still in his, and lifts it to place her palm gently on his cheek.]
...I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I've...if I've hurt you or made you feel something you didn't want to. I don't...I really don't like hurting people.
And...if it's all the same to you...I'd like to learn about the person you fell for. To find out if that person exists somewhere within me. Because if he does...
[He places his hand firmly over hers.]
...No one deserves to be alone forever. It's no fun. Trust me.
[it's humiliating; she's worked very, very hard all these years to build up a resistance to tears -- tears that others can see or take advantage of -- and yet they spilled so freely and without provocation before she could even feel it happen.
sleeping grief is a trait from the elvish part of her heritage, one designed for creatures that live far longer than most in order that they may bear the weight of long memories without utterly ruining their hearts with it. it's how the long-lived races of her land could handle rapid changes, devastation, love and loss...because they still feel the pain as any mortal can, even though their bodies force them to go on. instead of becoming hollowed out shells, however, their grief is buried and gradually vented in ways much less harmful to them: they can weep so beautifully without feeling the full effect of sorrow on their bodies; it makes their songs take on more emotive states than that of other races.
she's only half an elf, so that blessing isn't hers to grasp, even though she's found herself living many times over her natural lifespan thanks to planeswalking. it means carrying all the hurts and loss as any mortal would, and it's exhausting.
her only solace now is that she isn't able to let some injuries fully set and heal over to make tearing them open worse; it's still raw in regard to Darin and the people she loved so much as a girl in that other world.
worse, though, is how it feels to have the warmth of his hand over hers as he speaks so damn earnestly for her sake, full well knowing that despite that:] You're not...mine to have, Darin. You never were.
You said it yourself...the possibility that some variant of me exists in multitudes across time and space? Unless someone or something out there decides they want to monopolize me, the way I see it?
I'm here now.
With you.
And I'm guessing this feeling I've got bubbling up in my chest is one of happiness and it's one I haven't felt so keenly in awhile.
[she shakes her head while he speaks, unable to voice what's running in her head to argue. he doesn't get it because he doesn't know, because he doesn't know her, and it's not fair in the slightest. how hard is that to understand? what's there to cry about, really? it is what it is.
except she does, in fact, want very much to be reassured and wanted like this, despite the cost of being left behind yet again.
you know, like an idiot.]
Idiot...! [all company included.
still doubled over, she lifts her head, her hand still stifling anguish as she looks up and sees him looking like that -- not an ounce of irony, awareness, or cynicism.]
After everything...why would you still...keep coming back?
[if her hand weren't already captive, she'd slap him for that.
instead, she scoffs, using that grip as leverage to pull herself up.]
Idiot!
[she says but she's still falling in to kiss him, because fuck it, right? she's already messed up so magnificently, and if he's going to get away with spouting lines like that, she's not going to be left completely empty-handed.]
[He's a little more prepared for it this time and when she falls towards him, he at least as the presence of mind to wrap an arm about her waist and reel her in.]
[Now that he's not wary of some sort of follow-up attack or a nuclear fireball descending on him, she'll find his muscles noticeably relaxing at her touch. His fingers curl around her hand, holding it to his cheek, needing that steadying force there as his eyes flutter shut.]
[When at last he breaks the kiss, he doesn't pull away. His voice is soft with that lilt of teasing he's known for having.]
You keep calling me an idiot but you haven't exactly proven me wrong yet, you know.
[her voice is breathy against his mouth, still taken by the thrill of their closeness. it's hard to keep a straight thought, because all she wants to do is not think and just get lost in the moment with him.
that wouldn't really be her though, would it?]
Eventually, you'll regret this. [despite that, she kisses him again and again, because honestly? why the hell not. she may as well be an architect of her own downfall, and it damn well pay an advance like this. even the worst of stories still grant their wretched actors that much!]
[As she presses the assault, he falls backwards pulling her slender frame atop him. At this rate, he's warming up considerably between the fire and his hostess. And while this certainly wasn't the intent of his visit, he's not about to stop himself from indulging in this sensation.]
[He meets each kiss with a fevered one of his own. Maybe this was a mistake in some manner, but people have gambled with far more, haven't they? There's nothing wrong with allowing themselves this momentary respite, this moment in time of overwhelming feelings and needed comfort.]
[Finally, when he has a moment to respond as he combs a free hand through her hair.]
I don't do regrets, Cecelia...[The first time he's addressed her so familiarly. Why not at this point?]
[tears have stopped flowing so freely, though her eyes remain dampened from them. there's just the faint glint of them before her eyes flutter closed as attention is given to her hair.
at his words, a corner of her mouth tugs, making a quiet, grim sound.]
You'll see.
[she knows how he faltered in his feelings for the princess who had his heart back then in that other world. how he wrestled with his identity, purpose, and worthiness of all he had, especially with how the world spoiled him with so much more than what he'd known before.
it was infuriating then, but just bitter truth now; he'd walk away from this place and, given the distance and duty from his master, begin to doubt himself. to doubt her and this. it's inevitable and she knows it. she can't save him any more than she can save herself.
still, Cecelia lets herself indulge in the feeling of his fingers in her hair and on her back, warmth from him incomparable to her own but still more than welcome. it just feels nice to be held. regret it later.
at some point the rain does let up, though she doesn't realize the absence of it against the windows right away. by the time she does, her ear had been full of the pounding in his chest and more of his nonsense words she loved.]
Do you still mean to leave? You said when the rain had ceased.
[He had long since closed his eyes, though he wasn't asleep. No, his heart and his mind were at odds. The truth of the matter was that being here lit something long dormant within him. It was so much more than just having a job to do...being here felt like he was actually needed. That his purpose had outgrown the Empire's and now he was on the precipice of something new.]
[Holding her against him, losing his thoughts to the crackling of the fire, the scent of her shampoo, the steady rise and fall of her back as she breathed against his bare chest...]
[He doesn't answer right away, and when he does, his voice is soft.]
[she lifts her head, eyes big, surprised that he actually agreed so quickly. what about that rotten overlord of his? or whatever dozen-plus duties he might've forgone in his brain fog?
actually, instead of remarking on that, something different strikes her:]
Did you...actually agree to something I asked of you? Without me having to yell or singe you to do so?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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What's wrong?
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then closes it.
then recoils to pinch the bridge of her nose and wipe at her face.
he hasn't changed and he's still so stupid.]
Because. [...] Because, it... [...........nrgh. she pinches a little harder, until it hurts, then straightens, head up, hands tightly folding in her lap. be a goddamn elf.]
Because...it puts the burden of expectation on you. Unduly. As I already have... [BE AN ELF!!!] Feelings. In your regard. The dynamic is unbalanced. I tell you, I will not bear the weight of an apology for you simply not knowing anything you weren't meant to know, regardless of what I may want.
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To which I counter with...if I were so dear to you once, and I'm roughly the same in every incarnation...
Then it stands to reason I'd like you just fine. More than fine, really.
[He leans back and rests his chin in his hand, watching her with a smug little smile.]
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Quite a bold assumption for someone under the thumb of a would-be emperor. It stands as much to reason I'll have to watch you vanish yet again, no longer safely detached.
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I'd rather spend a day getting to know you than a lifetime of wondering would could have been.
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while bringing a hand to her face:] Gods...dammit, you. You keep saying such things without realizing how much they...!
[she balls her hand into a fist, pressing the heel of her hand against her face for a moment before sucking in a breath through her teeth.]
I don't. Get. Luxuries like this. And I was wrong to entertain the notion. I'm sorry.
[she shifts and pushes herself up to her feet, collecting the towel she'd been sat upon.]
None of it is fair. But I shouldn't. Expect it to be. No one should. It's...just how it is.
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You don't get these luxuries because I'm willing to bet you don't allow yourself to have them.
...What's wrong with just sitting here and talking by the fire?
[He laughs a bit.]
Am I really that obnoxious and annoying?
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while tugging to get her hand free:] It's wrong because I LOVE YOU, you thick-headed buffoon! [yank. oh and the tears, those are back.] And it isn't fair to you, because you do not know me! And it isn't fair to me! To play pretend by, by preying on you! I'm too old! [another tug.] Too old for this! For playing around! For make-believe!
[one more feeble tug before she gives up, heavily slumping back to the ground on her knees, her head falling into her free hand as she squeaks out a sob.]
It's not fair...!
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[No one had ever spoken those words to him before. Not in the way she meant them anyway. And then there she was...sobbing into her one free hand...]
[Dumbly he looks down at her hand in his, small and delicate by comparison. Lady-like despite the scales. He finds himself tracing them with a thumb, calloused finger to rough scales.]
[It didn't feel so bad...really.]
[When he snaps himself from his thoughts, he peers at her from behind his bangs. There was a lot he didn't know. There was a lot he wasn't sure he'd ever know. But he knew that right now, seeing this beautiful woman so distraught, over him no less, hurt his heart to its very core.]
[He takes her hand, still in his, and lifts it to place her palm gently on his cheek.]
...I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I've...if I've hurt you or made you feel something you didn't want to. I don't...I really don't like hurting people.
And...if it's all the same to you...I'd like to learn about the person you fell for. To find out if that person exists somewhere within me. Because if he does...
[He places his hand firmly over hers.]
...No one deserves to be alone forever. It's no fun. Trust me.
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sleeping grief is a trait from the elvish part of her heritage, one designed for creatures that live far longer than most in order that they may bear the weight of long memories without utterly ruining their hearts with it. it's how the long-lived races of her land could handle rapid changes, devastation, love and loss...because they still feel the pain as any mortal can, even though their bodies force them to go on. instead of becoming hollowed out shells, however, their grief is buried and gradually vented in ways much less harmful to them: they can weep so beautifully without feeling the full effect of sorrow on their bodies; it makes their songs take on more emotive states than that of other races.
she's only half an elf, so that blessing isn't hers to grasp, even though she's found herself living many times over her natural lifespan thanks to planeswalking. it means carrying all the hurts and loss as any mortal would, and it's exhausting.
her only solace now is that she isn't able to let some injuries fully set and heal over to make tearing them open worse; it's still raw in regard to Darin and the people she loved so much as a girl in that other world.
worse, though, is how it feels to have the warmth of his hand over hers as he speaks so damn earnestly for her sake, full well knowing that despite that:] You're not...mine to have, Darin. You never were.
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You said it yourself...the possibility that some variant of me exists in multitudes across time and space? Unless someone or something out there decides they want to monopolize me, the way I see it?
I'm here now.
With you.
And I'm guessing this feeling I've got bubbling up in my chest is one of happiness and it's one I haven't felt so keenly in awhile.
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except she does, in fact, want very much to be reassured and wanted like this, despite the cost of being left behind yet again.
you know, like an idiot.]
Idiot...! [all company included.
still doubled over, she lifts her head, her hand still stifling anguish as she looks up and sees him looking like that -- not an ounce of irony, awareness, or cynicism.]
After everything...why would you still...keep coming back?
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Because before I wound up here, as Master Skywalkers peacekeeper...
I was a blacksmith.
And a good blacksmith is useless without the right fire.
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instead, she scoffs, using that grip as leverage to pull herself up.]
Idiot!
[she says but she's still falling in to kiss him, because fuck it, right? she's already messed up so magnificently, and if he's going to get away with spouting lines like that, she's not going to be left completely empty-handed.]
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[Now that he's not wary of some sort of follow-up attack or a nuclear fireball descending on him, she'll find his muscles noticeably relaxing at her touch. His fingers curl around her hand, holding it to his cheek, needing that steadying force there as his eyes flutter shut.]
[When at last he breaks the kiss, he doesn't pull away. His voice is soft with that lilt of teasing he's known for having.]
You keep calling me an idiot but you haven't exactly proven me wrong yet, you know.
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[her voice is breathy against his mouth, still taken by the thrill of their closeness. it's hard to keep a straight thought, because all she wants to do is not think and just get lost in the moment with him.
that wouldn't really be her though, would it?]
Eventually, you'll regret this. [despite that, she kisses him again and again, because honestly? why the hell not. she may as well be an architect of her own downfall, and it damn well pay an advance like this. even the worst of stories still grant their wretched actors that much!]
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[He meets each kiss with a fevered one of his own. Maybe this was a mistake in some manner, but people have gambled with far more, haven't they? There's nothing wrong with allowing themselves this momentary respite, this moment in time of overwhelming feelings and needed comfort.]
[Finally, when he has a moment to respond as he combs a free hand through her hair.]
I don't do regrets, Cecelia...[The first time he's addressed her so familiarly. Why not at this point?]
And so far I haven't felt anything of the sort...
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at his words, a corner of her mouth tugs, making a quiet, grim sound.]
You'll see.
[she knows how he faltered in his feelings for the princess who had his heart back then in that other world. how he wrestled with his identity, purpose, and worthiness of all he had, especially with how the world spoiled him with so much more than what he'd known before.
it was infuriating then, but just bitter truth now; he'd walk away from this place and, given the distance and duty from his master, begin to doubt himself. to doubt her and this. it's inevitable and she knows it. she can't save him any more than she can save herself.
still, Cecelia lets herself indulge in the feeling of his fingers in her hair and on her back, warmth from him incomparable to her own but still more than welcome. it just feels nice to be held. regret it later.
at some point the rain does let up, though she doesn't realize the absence of it against the windows right away. by the time she does, her ear had been full of the pounding in his chest and more of his nonsense words she loved.]
Do you still mean to leave? You said when the rain had ceased.
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[Holding her against him, losing his thoughts to the crackling of the fire, the scent of her shampoo, the steady rise and fall of her back as she breathed against his bare chest...]
[He doesn't answer right away, and when he does, his voice is soft.]
Do you want me to go?
[And before she can respond.]
I want the truth...not what you should do.
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after a beat:] Don't leave.
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And I'm happy to do so.
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actually, instead of remarking on that, something different strikes her:]
Did you...actually agree to something I asked of you? Without me having to yell or singe you to do so?
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I guess so.
It helped that you just looked so happy for a change. I couldn't take that away from you.
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[she ducks her head to shield the smile tugging at her mouth, scoffing.]
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