[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?
...You're you. [a beat, then she sits up, looking down at him, some of her curls still tangled in his fingers or dangling over him.] And what you are to me is...so tangled up in what I knew, that it really isn't fair to say it's what you are. The you of right now.
That's very poetic. [said flatly, but lacking any real bite, because gods dammit, it's actually a good line and it got to her.] But maybe slightly skewed...
[she brings a hand up, gently picking at some of his hair.]
There's always something tangled when it comes to you. [but it could just be hair this time.]
...You know, I used to think that stuff wasn't for me.
[He tilts his head, leaning into her touch. It felt...comforting. He'd never had his hair stroked like this before. It made him surprisingly affectionate. Not only does he lean into her touch but he gathers her closer and nuzzles his head into the crook of her neck.]
I used to think a lot of things weren't for me. But...I suppose since you know me...er...knew me. You know all about where I come from...
[A thought occurs:]
...Does that mean you know what I am? What I was supposed to be...?
[He couldn't fight the hope that found its way into his voice. This world's Darin...he may have known respect and purpose unlike what he'd known in his world...but that one thing still eluded him.]
I never claimed to have a wise heart, Darin. Despite my best efforts to close myself off and give up...well, maybe I'd succeeded until coming to this land. Finding you again. Wanting to not be alone.
[she tenses up a little.]
It's very pathetic in a lot of ways. I won't deny it.
[He's silent for a long time. In fact, with the way his muscles tense periodically, she might mistake it for him being upset or somehow repulsed by the idea.]
[It's only when the tensing of his muscles becomes a little bit more rhythmic that she might sense that something else is amiss. Especially when she might feel something wet on her collarbone, especially since he has long since dried from the rain.]
[Finally, he shakes his head slowly, just enough to deny her claim that it was pathetic.]
[He shakes his head a little more vigorously this time.]
It's just...
...No one's ever...
I never thought anyone would...
[He struggles to find his words, to complete the thought. As if doing so would make all of this vanish. As much as Cecelia is able to see, she might have glossed over that this Darin came here directly from his world where he'd spent a lifetime of thinking he'd never be worth anything to anyone. And while he might have found purpose and respect, albeit warped through his dark master's machinations, the last time he'd experienced anything close to 'love' was so so long ago...]
[It's something he never thought he'd feel again. And maybe, that's why he threw himself into his position so zealously. Because it filled a hole.]
[And so she'll find him clinging tighter to her, his fingers wrapping themselves and clinging desperately to the fabric of her dress, the muscles of his arms tensing like titanium but still refraining from squeezing too hard, ever mindful of her frame. Every action, every movement designed to keep this moment in its entirety out of absolute terror that it could slip away from him.]
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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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[See that, Cecelia? That's called a trap and you walked into it.]
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[oh gods dammit.
well.
WELL, LIKE.
]
...You're you. [a beat, then she sits up, looking down at him, some of her curls still tangled in his fingers or dangling over him.] And what you are to me is...so tangled up in what I knew, that it really isn't fair to say it's what you are. The you of right now.
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...You know, you make it sound like a knot. But you know what it sounds like to me?
It sounds like I'm a lot less tangled and more woven together along with you.
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[she brings a hand up, gently picking at some of his hair.]
There's always something tangled when it comes to you. [but it could just be hair this time.]
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[At least his usual boundless optimism still seems to be in tact.]
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[her fingers carefully comb through his bangs, her expression getting cloudy again.]
They call it "earning your happy ending" in some circles.
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[He tilts his head, leaning into her touch. It felt...comforting. He'd never had his hair stroked like this before. It made him surprisingly affectionate. Not only does he lean into her touch but he gathers her closer and nuzzles his head into the crook of her neck.]
I used to think a lot of things weren't for me. But...I suppose since you know me...er...knew me. You know all about where I come from...
[A thought occurs:]
...Does that mean you know what I am? What I was supposed to be...?
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she makes a faint, affirmative sound.]
I do. It sent you away more than once.
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[He couldn't fight the hope that found its way into his voice. This world's Darin...he may have known respect and purpose unlike what he'd known in his world...but that one thing still eluded him.]
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[she tenses up a little.]
It's very pathetic in a lot of ways. I won't deny it.
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[It's only when the tensing of his muscles becomes a little bit more rhythmic that she might sense that something else is amiss. Especially when she might feel something wet on her collarbone, especially since he has long since dried from the rain.]
[Finally, he shakes his head slowly, just enough to deny her claim that it was pathetic.]
[And he manages to choke out a response.]
...I'm so glad...
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[soft surprise, her ears picking up more than that croak of his voice. her fingers still, herself freezing up with uncertainty.
is he...?]
Why...? Who do you weep for?
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It's just...
...No one's ever...
I never thought anyone would...
[He struggles to find his words, to complete the thought. As if doing so would make all of this vanish. As much as Cecelia is able to see, she might have glossed over that this Darin came here directly from his world where he'd spent a lifetime of thinking he'd never be worth anything to anyone. And while he might have found purpose and respect, albeit warped through his dark master's machinations, the last time he'd experienced anything close to 'love' was so so long ago...]
[It's something he never thought he'd feel again. And maybe, that's why he threw himself into his position so zealously. Because it filled a hole.]
[And so she'll find him clinging tighter to her, his fingers wrapping themselves and clinging desperately to the fabric of her dress, the muscles of his arms tensing like titanium but still refraining from squeezing too hard, ever mindful of her frame. Every action, every movement designed to keep this moment in its entirety out of absolute terror that it could slip away from him.]
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