escordvi | closed ⚡🪶 and forevermore, i'll be chasing the storm we had.

[Everything from her expression to her whole body hardens at what he holds back, her heart nearly stopping in her throat when she immediately knows what he had been about to ask only because that question has been sitting on the tip of her tongue all along, too.

Why didn't she go with him? Why didn't she follow him? Well, why didn't he stay with her? Why didn't he just pick her up and take her away? Why, why, why did either of them do or not do anything back then? She could throw it right back in his face, and she might have if he hadn't stopped himself. She might have if she had any energy left in that particular fight to do so.

Only she doesn't.

Try all she wants, she cannot seem to stoke that flame to get it to burn hot enough to want to fight about it, even if that fury could burn away these other feelings that she has a harder time coming to terms with and navigating. After spending more than half a decade hating him because she loved him, it's much harder to simply just love him now...

She really should have shoved it in his face and left because that simple touch of his finger along her arm or that melancholy in his smile could be the very things that unravel her completely, break down her already weakened defenses, and the last thing that she wants right now is to regret any of it. Regret any more of what she has done when it comes to him...]

Cidolfus...

[His name falls out of her again like it's a breath of air all on its own that she needs to take to steady her mind and her heart.

Should she touch him? Or rather, can she touch him? Do either of them deserve to? Fucking stupid, after what they just came out of, but here they are again.

Her fingers graze ever so tentatively over the back of his hand, wanting so badly to thread their fingers together in that clumsy, awkward way that she does, but the look he wears gives her pause.]

It is not because I have no other options.

[She keeps her eyes focused on the calm ripples around them, wishing that she could be them right now.]

But because I do not want any other. Not anymore. I never did. And when you left, I should have— [She pauses, and it's her turn to bite down on her own tongue.] I was... afraid.

[That final word comes out strained, taking up every effort to say it.

Afraid because she thought she'd lost him forever. And so, she turned to her demons instead, embraced them, because it was easier than longing for something she thought she could no longer have.]

[The hesitation and fear she shows in that little touch hurts him more than if she did yell at him. More than if they did just shout and argued like they used to. At least when they yell and fall into the old hate, they aren't being sensitive or holding back. Yet now...

She may have cut off her words, but he hears it. That hint of regret of not going with him. He had caught it before another time, but maybe that is what he wanted to hear, or at least something like that. That she, too, wished she had chosen differently, that she regrets, even a little. And even if she doesn't wholly say it, he doesn't need it. Not anymore. Once upon a time he would have, but it would have just been for a hollow sense of satisfaction. Just an empty affirmation of being "right" when really it didn't matter at all.

Instead, her attempts now are what he needs because her small steps in attempts is equal to someone's mile long jump. He is more bullheaded and open about it, but this is her way to reconcile, express her regret. Which is why he will finish it for her, quickly grab her hand and thread their fingers together because where she hesitates, he will reach out and pull her to where he knows she's trying to be. One day she will get there on her own, but for now he can do this for her. Help build that strength, and... Do it for himself, too. Be impatient and selfish.]

I know.

[His voice is low and quiet, but it's not as strained or as resigned as before.]

...Now, at least.

[He didn't know at all back then. He knew she was at first, but then over the months and years, she wore that skin so well, hid everything from him so well, she fooled him too well. And with his own insecurities and doubts building, as their relationship became more strained and he saw less and less of her—it only makes sense that he wouldn't have been able to see it.

And considering how well Barnabas kept them apart, limiting even any opportunity for them to see each other...

But these were all revelations he didn't know until after. Until it was too late and they reached that point of no return.

If she had just said—

No. Again, not the time. Instead...]

Are you afraid now...?

[Now. He needs to focus on the now, the future. The past will still exist and haunt them, but he can't let them stay in it.]

[Her breath does catch when he takes their hands the rest of the way to where she could not, but her fingers are warm against his as they give a light squeeze before relaxing, her eyes now transfixed on them instead.

His question, however, sends all of that tension right into her shoulders and her spine, and though she still rests against him, she feels as if she's just tried to shove an entire rift between them as a means to protect herself. Tried... and failed because he would not let her do it. And if he did, then he would still be holding her hand, still bridging that gap somehow.

There was no running from him now. Not anymore.

He has a vise grip on her, and it isn't just their hands held between them. She does nothing to stop it either, even when it reminds her of the last of their days spent together. How tightly wound that thread was that he held onto her with then, until slowly, it unraveled and came undone. Only this time, it's sturdier, weaved with those memories as if they are what keep it from falling apart again out of the same sheer desperation to see that it doesn't.

That it keeps her right where she is, where she was supposed to be all this time, and it's here that he asks if she is afraid.

The truth is...]

I am.

[...she has always been afraid.

There has never been a moment where she wasn't for one reason or another.

Before, in Waloed, it was the fear that he would demand something in return from her that she could not give. And then, that he might see her imperfections and hate them. That he would leave her behind. She was afraid of what that new life of his would mean for her, and so, she stayed behind. Refused to go, and then blamed him for leaving.

And then, when they reunited here, it was a whole new set of fears along with the old, but most of all, she has always been afraid of being hurt.

Being alone again.]

... The rifts.

[She says it slowly, wishing that it would explain everything she is feeling and thinking in this moment, but she knows that it won't. She knows that is only scraping the tip of this very large iceberg that is them, but they have to start somewhere, don't they?]

I don't want them to take us.

[With his hand still tightly holding hers, his arm once more wraps around her to hold her closer, eyes closing with a sigh as he rests his head against hers. Keeping her there, not letting her create that rift.]

...I know, I don't want that it, either. That's why I'm looking into it, either finding that artifact that caused this entire mess, or make something else that can.

[She gives a small shake of her head when he rests his against it, but it's his warmth bleeding into her again that has her allowing that tension to relax away, her body tired and practically melting into his. He'll feel her other hand gliding along his arm, a small but common gesture of hers as she ponders, tries to fix together what she means to say.]

After I received the news that Midadol left, I wondered if you were perhaps going to look for a way back.

[And bringing them around to the original thought, her original fear going into this.]

...That you would use that relic leave once you found it. I cannot again, Cidolfus...

[But he knows that already, doesn't he? It bears repeating, however. Again and again until she's absolutely certain that he knows how badly she needs him here. Whether they would become enemies or continue on this path they are on, he is what she needs.]

Edited 2024-01-23 02:00 (UTC)

[A heavy sigh as he knows his departure hit her hard, that like how he's hung up on how she didn't leave with him, him leaving will be her thorn. Both actions broke each other's trust so badly, so he can't blame her at all for thinking that history might repeat.

He thought the same, after all, spurred on by Barnabas's appearance. And even now, even just a few moments ago, he still had the thought that if she could find a way to return to their world to once again serve Barnabas, she might take it.]

And it won't happen again. Not without me trying to stop it.

[He defied fate once, who says he can't again?]

But... I know that's not something you can so easily believe.

[There's that heavy regret in his voice again, his grip on her tightening just a little more.]

[Is that the truth?]

Perhaps not...

[She doesn't say, but her voice has gone quiet. Soft. Nearly a whisper that is just audible over the sound of the water as she shifts on his lap, moving herself even closer than what he can do for them. Close enough that she can lower her head to his shoulder again where it had been before.]

But this world doesn't seem to give us much say in the matter.

[None at all.

And that is the difference this time. While they both had choices to make before, they have been snatched of that right. It could happen at any moment. It could happen this very second, and it only makes her hold him that much tighter as her arm snakes around his shoulder.]

No...it doesn't. But that doesn't mean we still can't try... Nor make the best of what we have while we have it.

[Which he knows is also something that's difficult for her. To have that hope only to have it all slip out of her fingers and leave her freefalling all over again.]

[And he is absolutely right in that, and whatever her hand had been doing at the back of his neck pauses.]

You always make that sound so easy.

[A small half shrug.]

But it's not impossible.

I wonder about that.

[Her fingers continue their small motions up and down his neck with every steadying breath, running over every notch of his spine.]

You know that I don't like 'maybe's.

I know... But that's all we have.

Maybe's, what if's, could haves.

[His eyes close as he feels that touch of her hand, his own moving to stroke her back beneath the water.]

There are no guarantees in life, love. All the more reason we have to try and believe in what we want and do everything we can to make it true, or as close as we can.

It's better than nothing at all.

And this...?

[There's movement again, the sound of the water trickling and rippling as soft as her slow and deliberate shift. She lifts her head from his shoulder to meet his gaze, that uncertainty, while still lingering there, has ebbed some.

The guilt, however, has not.]

This is what you're sure that you want. What you have chosen.

[It's less of a question and more of an observation. A confirmation, perhaps, that she understands him.]

Aye.

[There's no hesitation in his answer this time, no falter due to whatever other emotions and thoughts that could strike him. And it's reflected in his own gaze that meets her, more of that steadfast and fierce resolution brimming behind those greens before it softens a touch as he continues.]

I told you once, before. That for a long time I worked to find a way for all of us to choose how we die—to be more than what we are, but who we are. [Here there is a slight falter as he stares at her before he glances away.] Including myself.

[Although...the real reason is staring at him right in front of him. The one who made that wish first, her wish to be thought of as human, and spurred him on that seemingly impossible quest. ]

But I was wrong. I should have been focusing more on changing things so we all have a choice on how we lived. And that is why...

[His hand reaches up to brush against her cheek as he looks back up at her.]

I choose this life now, with you. I already lost that chance once... And I can't have it anywhere else.

[Those words are distantly reminiscent, like the ring of a faraway bell, or the lightest tug of a string. Like a foggy memory that she has a hard time clearing, or even reaching for to wipe clean so that she can see what's inside.

So instead, she leans into his touch, breathing out that long-held sigh that she hadn't realized she'd been clinging to.

Whether she can believe those words with all her heart—believe in them and their ability to fight against whatever fate has in store for them, it was just the thing that she needed to hear. It was the last little push from behind to know for certain what it is she needs to do. He may want a way to control the rifts, but she wants to close them for good.

Does she still feel that twinge of guilt about it? Yes. Will it ever go away? It's unlikely... but when has she ever been the selfless one? When has she ever been anything but selfish when it came to him?

And it isn't just about him, either... but for her own survival. But what is there left tethering her to herself in a world where he is no longer in it? Her very own relic of the past, of who she used to be, who she could have been, and who she can be all wrapped into one. Only one of the hundreds of reasons why she cannot seem to let him go.]

You have a funny way of showing it.

[It's muttered quietly under a breath, a quip to all the times he's pushed himself too far, put himself at too much risk, but she doesn't linger on the thought.]

Then promise that you will quit locking yourself away in your workshop for days at a time.

[He had wondered how she would take his answer... And for the first time since this conversation started, a more lighthearted, genuine smile forms, small as it is.]

Even if it really is for a deadline?

[It may be small, but Benedikta can tell the difference from all the others. It's less empty, and slowly creeps up into the little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. The kind that she had been looking for all this time, and one that brings about that annoying flutter in her chest.]

I don't care about your deadlines.

[And though she plays into the whole thing, the slightest quirk of her lip on her otherwise soft expression, she means every word.]

If I am to choose a life here with you, I don't want to find you with those circles under your eyes, and that awful beard. Never again.

[Her hand caresses said beard.]

[There's something about her words that send that odd, warm, ticklish feeling through his chest.

If she were to choose a life here with him...

Conditional or not, they are still the closest thing he perhaps has been wanting to hear, and she may see that flicker of emotion in his eyes, the slight tension in his jaw as he unknowingly clenches his teeth before they loosen.]

But if it should happen...

[If he were to falter, if that tough armor of his were to crack, if he were to show her that vulnerable side that he tries to cover up and hide...]

...would you still pull me out of it?

[Be there, push him, yell at him. Love him. Just be that reminder of what he's doing all this for.]

[It was her way of saying that yes, she would choose him. This. Whatever this is... if it even has a name.

Any hint of that smile is all but gone at his question, though it is not replaced with something harder. She should scold him for it because there should be no reason for it to happen again if she can help it, but she is much too tired for that, too. So, her expression—her eyes especially—softens.]

Did we not agree that I was the best one for it?

[That he needed her to be that hand to pull him out just as much as she needed him?

She leans in close, her head tipping in his direction, though it doesn't come to rest against his. Yet.]

But should you stumble again... [She pauses.] ... You may borrow my wings.

[He just wanted to hear it. Some kind of reassurance that she wouldn't just leave him. Regret her choice.

So again there is a little more of a genuine smile, his eyes so soft before there is just a subtle shift as he regards her.]

...You, too.

[Once more brushes her cheek with the crook of his finger.]

Should you ever need it, you can always fly and rest your wings with me.

[The distance between them closes a little more, until their just a hairbreadth's away.]

I won't let you fall... I won't let you go.

[Just like him, she may never reveal everything that bothers or troubles her. She may try to do things on her own, just like he still will. That's just their nature. However, just as he will also try to lean on her more, he wants her to lean on him. Wants her to feel safer and come to him when she needs it.

Share those burdens.

And perhaps, the more often they do, the more likely they will.]

[Not again, she wants to say against his lips, so close now that she can taste the wine and the peach on his breath. So close that she just wants to breach the rest of that distance and put an end to all of this for good. To stop those words of his before he can crush her with them...

But it's with just a brush of her lips to his, a silent show of acknowledgement, an affirmation that she hears him and understands him, and that maybe, some small part of her actually believes that he won't let her go this time. That there really is a place for her to rest her wings upon his back. A small part, but it's more than what it had been when all of this started. Even more than when she had watched over him as he slept, that very real, deep fear making a home in her. Perhaps even Garuda stirring to remind her...

But she has since tried to push them all aside in favour of his voice and while they will never go away for her, at least he has a place among them, louder and clearer than all the rest in moments like this one.

A quiet moment that she allows to settle between them that lasts several heartbeats, to let his words sink in before she sighs.]

... I don't like that version of you that I saw this morning.

[His thoughts are similar to hers. It's hard not to, when they are so close and their hearts so strained, so worn out, that want they want that relief and release that can only be granted by each other. But at her words, his first instinct is to apologize again...

...]

What version do you like?

[Ah.

She should have seen that question coming, but it makes her flush all the same. She has thought about this plenty since she found him when she realized that what she saw in him was not a version of him that she liked, and why that was. She didn't like that looming shadow cast over his eyes, that faraway look that made her think of their final days together.

It's time for her to slip her lips away so that she can lean in, just far enough that he can no longer see her.]

... This one.

[That probably answers nothing.]

[NOPE. But there is a faint smile as he just follows and leans closer to her, the water quietly rippling from their movements.]

Hmmm? Not sure what you mean.

Yes, you do.

[Don't play coy with her.

But she lets him chase her all the same because as much as this part of him makes her bristle, it's the part of him that she's discovered she prefers over what she saw today.]

This arrogant old fool that gets under my skin.

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