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

[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.

From the way you phrase it, that sounds like you like it when I annoy you.

[A low chuckle is his lips brush against her skin, but not quite at her lips.]

[She snaps back immediately to look at him, her expression hardening for a fraction of second.]

That's not it.

[Don't get the wrong idea here.

But it all melts away as fast as it had come.]

You are just not yourself when you are like that.

[And she almost tells him what it reminds her of. Almost. But she manages to bite her tongue.]

[There's just a hint of one of his usual smirks, a quick flash that is only not as full as it normally is due to the subdued mood that still hangs over them.]

Is there anything else? About "myself" that you like.

[She's going to shove him underwater if he keeps up this line of questioning or so help her—]

No.

[Is the first answer that she gives quietly, but the way that her hand slides over his shoulder and her lips over his jaw will no doubt tell him that isn't the case.]

But I prefer that stupid grin of yours over you looking miserable.

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