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

[If only she'd heard that six years ago...

But it's not a thought that she has the space to linger on... not when he holds her so tight, so close, and not when she wishes he would just crush her to him and not ever free her again.

She dips her head, burying it in his chest, seeking the strength that comes from his body, his warmth, his scent... everything. Once, it would have made her feel weak, would have made her hate herself for wanting it so much, but now, it's the only thing that keeps her tethered and grounded in the present.

Even when he is also the only person that puts her at risk of falling back into the past just as easily.]

Cidolfus...

[The way that she says his name is tentative and slow, like she's scared she might either disintegrate into aether or burst into flames at what she is about to say next.]

... You were right.

[Fuck. She wants to shatter her skull and rip off her skin for saying that.]

[He stiffens at first, his thoughts and heart racing for a moment before he tries to steady himself.]

...That's not important right now.

[She feels him stiffen, and she swears she feels his pulse quicken too, her head resting right where his heart races, and she knows what he is doing. She would have been prepared to do it only hours ago too, but being up where there was nothing but her and the wind... she thought and thought about things that she would rather have never faced again. About the memories that resurfaced after seeing the fear in that woman's eyes and feeling her own guilt that she could not do it. She couldn't bring herself to take her.

Her own regrets...]

Is it really not?

[She doesn't mean for her voice to sound so hardened and sharp, a hurt edge honed to it in just a few short moments at his deflection because she knows that isn't the truth.]

[There's again some of that tension as he averts his gaze, but it's not because he doesn't want to talk about it or address it. Just...]

...I just don't want you to think that way.

[Right or wrong... Given his own fate and how things turned out, did it really matter in the end? At the very least, even if he hears it, he doesn't feel any better about it. No sense of triumph or vindication. Just... More hurt, guilt, and sadness than anything else. Because if he had been right, then he should have done more.

However, he knows this is also important to her, so after another moment he looks at her.]

So... Tell me more.

[Why she's telling him this and what made her come to this point.]

[Her hand continues running those lines along his spine, the thought swirling deep in her gaze as she stares at his lips and not his eyes. The temptation to just kiss him and convey all of her thoughts and feelings that way again is there, and it's strong, but...

She knows that they will have to face this eventually. She could run and run and run and then fly as fast as she could, beat her wings as hard as she could, but she will never outrun this... Never outrun them. And it's finally caught up to her tonight.

After six years... all it took was one woman.]

You were right about her... and me... That I saw it.

[Her own reflection.]

[So this is where they start... All right, he can work with that.]

I can't blame you, really... Not with how similar things were. I could see it, too.

Perhaps that's why I was prepared to simply take her. Why I was adamant about it.

[... She falls silent for a moment, her hand stopping on his back, and the next words come slowly. Carefully. Her own heart races now, fear gripping her that he might push her away, that he might not want to listen or hear it. That she could be making a terrible mistake...

But she pushes through.]

I did not want the same to happen to her.

[Because they're so close, he can feel her tensing and her heart race.

Not wanting the same to happen...

He's quiet for a moment before he answers.]

Afraid of her being trapped?

Trapped...

[She repeats in affirmation, but her nails will suddenly dig into the skin on his back.]

...And afraid. Alone.

[While she had her Intelligencers at her side at all times, and her King, and hell, even Hugo... there is a difference between people being there and not being alone. Empty.]

[He just nods, feeling those nails dig into him. But it's the words that pain him more, now realizing what she really must have been feeling all this time. What she hid so well that even he could not have perceived it.]

...Why didn't you tell me?

[She huffs, part-laugh part-sigh that skims across his lips as she lifts her gaze to his at last.]

And when would I have told you? Even when our paths did cross...

[It was brief, and the exchanges cold and distant. She had loathed his very existence, spat poison at him for abandoning his post, his king... and most importantly, leaving her.]

It was not as if we were exactly kind to one another.

[His lips purse because... She's right. But—]

But what about before? Did you feel any of it before?

[Before he left. In that time when things between started to drift and then broke completely apart.]

[Before...

Looking back, those had been the hardest months of her life. Not the ones that came after his departure, nor the ones that came before meeting him, or the times she spent growing into her own shoes in Waloed through the years. It was those nights when she would crawl into his bed and wonder if he still wanted her there, and then the nights that they spent apart.

Is it even possible for her to move any closer to him? She would squeeze him tighter to her if it weren't for that wound on his side, but she settles for tangling her legs with his instead.]

... When I was with you?

[Again he doesn't immediately answer, needing to try and parse her words. Because... He does wonder. Was she ever afraid of him? Did he ever make her feel trapped? Lonely? Especially in those later months...]

...Aye.

[...Had he been so lacking that she would run to someone else?]

Did I ever make you feel that way?

[Not even directly, but also indirectly. She may not have been afraid of him, but not safe enough with him. May not have felt trapped by him in one sense, but perhaps in another... So many ways this could mean.]

[She doesn't even hesitate. Doesn't even think before she leans in and kisses him, as if to eat those words right out of his mouth and spit them back out. It's a firm kiss, one that's filled with that pent-up desperation she's been harbouring since she climbed through his window. But it's one that now feels like she's been holding it for years and years...

And in case that or the emotion swimming in her eyes when she pulls back don't answer his question...]

You were the one who made me feel...anything.

[As he had been deep in his thoughts and pensive about how she would answer, the kiss surprises him, eyes shaking and body trembling for a moment both from the action and the intensity from it. From the desperation he can feel her trying to tell him otherwise.

And again all he feels is a heartrending ache instead of relief. Because to know that she really felt everything but that. To know she really probably felt...

In the end, all he can do is rush back to her, his lips crushing hers with the same force as his arms do to hug her to him. Wound be damned, he needed to. Needed to convey that same feeling, that same desperation.]

[She can't help the small sound that tumbles out of her when he rushes her, or when his arms wrap around her, these deeper emotions ebbing away for a moment to make room for the passion that flares up. Those feelings that he made her feel—makes her feel, even now.

It's these feelings that make her realize just how hollow her heart had felt after she had left, and why she filled herself with so much hatred and rage instead. Just so she could feel something for him, even if it was anger and hurt and everything in between.

She allows herself this, deepening the kiss for as long as her heart will allow her before she peaches him completely. When she pulls back, her lips rub gently against his, noses brushing, the tattered heat of their breaths mingling, and her lashes tickle his cheeks when she opens her eyes.]

Those days before you left, Cidolfus...

[Her voice is strained, thick with that anguish.]

I was scared.

[It's with great reluctance and restraint that he keeps himself still, to barely try to even his breaths as his eyes search hers.]

Of what?

[His voice comes out rougher than expected, but he doesn't care. Only a myriad of possibilities flash through his mind, each one worse than the last.]

What were you afraid of that you couldn't tell me?

[And then in a voice more strained than he intends—]

That I couldn't take you from?

[—while knowing what that answer could be.]

[...

Does he really not know? Did he really not see the way that she watched him on those nights out on his terrace? Or as he hunched over his desk? Or when they would lie in bed together, just like this, but with a rift so wide between them that she was too afraid to leap across to find him? To go to him? To pull him back to her...?

Had fate really, truly pulled them so far apart then that he could not see that longing in her gaze?]

It was nothing that you could take me from.

[If that is what he thinks... then maybe he didn't.]

...I was afraid that you no longer... [There's a pause and, though brief, it weighs heavy.] ...Felt anything for me anymore.

[That he no longer loved her.]

[His eyes widened as if she just sprouted another head.]

How—

[Compared to the storm of emotions he felt before, this is a completely different one. Confusion, disbelief, consternation, all of it is clear in his eyes.]

No longer felt anything? All those times I tried to meet with you, wanting to see you—

[No, no, don't get caught in that trap. That trap where they just spiral down of the what's and not the why's or how's. So he takes a steadying breath, so while his voice is a little calmer, his head is still swimming.]

I thought you didn't want anything to do with me.

[She lets him voice his thoughts, knowing full well that saying what she said would take them here.

Here...? How foolish had she been to think that this would remain about the woman on the boat and how trapped she was? How Benedikta wished she could take her away? Sure, that had been the catalyst, but was it ever about that?

Or was it about him?

...

But it's her turn to stare at him equal amounts of confusion and disbelief—so much that she pulls back further that they can easily see the way they mirror one another now.]

I did. I thought...

[She furrows her brow, the image of his younger face then overlapping with what he is now, a certain sadness draping over him.]

... You always felt so far away.

Only because you were.

[But he's not saying that in an accusatory way. No, while they did become emotionally distant, they were also physically distant. She in Dhalmekia dealing with Hugo, him always sent on different expeditions to the point where he spent more time abroad than in Waloed.]

And you—

[Here he frowns, old words...voices that he had long axed away from his memories trickling in. His brows furrow and he studies her for a moment before he slowly speaks, watching her every movement and expression.]

...More than once. More than once, whether it was after your return from Dhalmekia or my own expeditions, I sent you a message to try and meet, but I can only count on one hand the number of times we actually did. Either you never responded or a messenger found me to say you cancelled it, saying you had other matters to attend to.

[With those "matters" usually involving Barnabas. The first few times he brushed it off because they were reasonable. Things happen, and she had her own duties. But then as they kept happening and he heard the whispers over time, he became more agitated and frustrated to the point that at some point he stopped sending those messages. Gave up any expectations...but still desperate and foolish enough to take whatever crumb he could still receive until that, too, he no longer could. But now...

...

The way he speaks, the way he looks at her is again not accusatory. It's careful questioning. Searching. Doubting his own words.]

...Did you really?

[Because if what she had said before is true—if she had really wanted to see him, if she had been hurting the same way as he... Then why would she avoid him to such extent? Why would she try not to meet with him?

Sure, some of them may have been true, but... All of them?

And now that that idea has planted in his mind, when he remembers how they were both manipulated in the end, more doubts grow.

As does his anger.]

Edited 2024-01-28 08:07 (UTC)

[She can sense the storm roiling underneath that always steady demeanour of his, but she doesn't shy away from it. She never did, even then—she would instead take his hand and squeeze it without a word, just like she is now. Except his words have her stiffening, more of that confusion setting between her brow. He doesn't mean to sound accusatory, but she can't help feel just a bit defensive about it because—]

I never received any of those messages.

[The number of nights she spent wondering why he was so distant, why he was always quiet around her even when she did finally come for him felt endless at the time. So much that her mind had ended up spinning them into the poison that she kept on her tongue for all those years to follow.

She slides her arm out from around him and slowly sits up, but she remains at his side, looming over him.]

I always came...

[She would have flown down the halls if they could fit the span of her wings. So then why would he say such things?]

[There's just a slight shake of his head, which is still spinning. She's come to him, yes, but not always. And to hear her say she never received them...

In the past he would have doubted her, but now? No. He believes her.

Just to be sure, he lists a few occasions, to see how different her memory may be.

Meet by the stables after her return in X month.

Try to share a dinner after he returned from Y mission.

Just a simple meeting before he left for Z expedition.

He could provide more, but these were ones he remembered and brought up because—]

On each of these occasions, I waited, but you never came. Instead, someone else appeared to tell me you weren't coming. What's more... My subordinate told me he had to leave the note with one of your aides because you weren't there.

[But the ones she did come—he knew she had received it directly.

And it's only now that he realizes this.]

[And with each occasion, Benedikta shakes her head. She remembers each and every moment they spent together in those last months before he left, and none of those memories come to her. If she had received them, he would not be listing them today. She had so desperately wanted to be with him, so desperately wished he would still look her way, but by then, his eyes had fixed on some distant point elsewhere, somewhere far on the horizon...

The pieces should not be falling into place so easily, but they do.]

Cidolfus...

[She says his name softly, but firmly, as she leans over him.]

If I had known... I would have come... I always wished that you would, but—

[Barnabas. She stops herself, the unsaid name a chill that descends over her.]

I kept getting called away.

[Away from him. Away and away until that wedge had grown so thick that she stopped reaching out to him, too. Accepted that it was just the way things were now. Relished in the power that it gave her when she felt unwanted. Unneeded elsewhere.]

Edited 2024-01-28 20:02 (UTC)

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