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

[He remembers what she said back then, and it hurts as much as it did then. But this?]

Ach...Benna...

[His own eyes start to burn, his throat tightening to make his voice just a pained whisper as he both rushes to her and pulls her to him, his hand trembling from the overwhelming emotions that threaten to spill over.]

No...no of course not...

[If that was hers, then what of him? Was his dying body and his own death his penance for not seeing the truth sooner? Was watching her die and unable to save her his own?]

[Whatever she had been holding in comes spilling out the moment she collides into him. It's a weight that is both pressed down and lifted all at the same time. It's a riptide that pushes and pulls at her, but rather than fight to stay afloat, she lets it take her.

She swears under her breath before she breaks into a sob, those emotions being set free, fettered no longer. She doesn't even know why she felt the need to tell him this—it's not as if it changes anything, does it? They cannot go back and take back what they had done, she cannot make different choices, she cannot go back at all and try again.

And fuck, it hurts that much more to know that it hurts him, too.

Yes, he is the only one who makes her feel anything at all, but when it's this, is it any better? Benedikta no longer wants to hurt him with her words, and yet, here she is...]

They killed my men, Cidolfus... and then they tried to...

[Her nails dig into his skin, and she feels like she wants to carve off her own right now. It's disgusting, revolting, the anger burning like fire underneath. That it all led to that in the end...

It was just like how he had found her. Broken and scared... and alone.]

[He can't stop himself from hugging her, from briefly taking her lips to try and recenter her before he's leaning back against the wall just holding her, letting himself be her desperately needed anchor. He knew she was holding in a lot and that one day it would blow out, knew it would be painful. But perhaps because they've once more reconnected and started to allow themselves to love each other again, it hurts more than if he had heard this months ago.

Hurts because once again he can only think what if he had just taken her anyway. What if he had pushed back harder, tried to find her instead of let her slip away. Because that's exactly what he did—just let her slip right through his fingers just as she had with him.

And it's only natural for him to feel that intense anger, too. A hatred aimed at no one but the one who caused it all. Even if they did make their choices and must live with them, they, too were victims.

Truly, how fragile one's life can be, how devastating a small ripple in one's path can become in the future.

And now, all he can do is just whisper quiet, useless words of comfort as he continues to hold her so she can let it out. Let out any remaining griefs, regrets, anger, anything.]

[And maybe that is just what she needs. An anchor. He doesn't need to say anything, doesn't need to do anything... all he needs to do is be there, because who else is there? Who else does she have left? He could remind her that she has made all these connections all he wants, but none of them know... none of them would understand what she had gone through—what they had gone through. The hell that they had to walk through to even get here right now.

Six long years of it, and even longer still when she thinks of how they had been pried apart by force. All those missives that she missed, all those meetings that could have changed it all. Could have made her see it sooner, and maybe then... maybe she would still be able to return back with him.

When he kisses her, it's all but over, the tears falling free until they stain and burn his cheeks, too. They stay like that for a while, Benedikta's quiet sobs filling the room as his low whispers fill her head.

She could cry and scream and shriek and destroy all she likes... nothing will change.

That's the worst part of it all.

When she finally manages to rein some of it back in, mustering up what little strength she has left after tonight, she lifts her face to look at him, her eyes and cheeks red and swollen, anger and guilt and regret flaring up within them. She stares at him for a heartbeat, and then another, and then another, before her head droops towards his.]

If I had just gone with you... it wouldn't have ended that way... Maybe I would still be...

[Alive.

But she cannot even bring herself to say that.]

...still be able to see it all. Everything.

[It's perhaps for the best that she doesn't, for it would only wrench that dagger of guilt even deeper. That guilt of not telling her his own fate. And perhaps in some twisted way, it's better she did die first. Then she wouldn't have had to go through what he did in watching him die. Because if she did...

But that's a thought for another time, another place. Instead he just brings up her face so he can press his lips against her tears, his own breath trembling as he feels on the verge of shedding his own.]

It's not just you.

[His palm press tighter against her as he holds her gaze, both of them mirroring all those emotions they've both held down now spilling over at last.]

You wondered if what happened was your penance for not listening to me... If that's true, then it's also mine for not doing more to take you with me and not trusting you. For my own cowardice and inability to protect you—for letting you go.

[His voice quivers, pleading and desperate.]

Benna, please... Don't hold this in anymore... Let me share those burdens with you.

[She shakes her head between his hands. Neither of them trusted the other—he thought that she was ignoring him, she thought he didn't love her anymore and thus, sought it from someone else. That rift was already there long before either of them could do anything about it. Long before either of them even knew that it existed at all...

But in the end, as she sees it, it was her who refused. He had asked her to leave with him, and she refused. Not because she didn't trust him, but because she was too blinded by her loyalty, too indebted, and too afraid of what it meant. She was afraid of losing everything that shaped her into who she was, all the things that kept her from drowning again. She was afraid of what freedom meant, of the unknown... so scared that she couldn't trust him in the end because of it.

It's her turn to lean in and kiss him, firmly and desperately, sealing some unsaid promise between them.]

Let me make it up to you, Cidolfus... For not believing in you...

[In his words, his cause, his dreams... Dreams that she now understands were also for her.]

Let us make up for it all...

Edited 2024-01-30 05:48 (UTC)

[No more words needed to be said, because what else can they say that hasn't already? How much more do they need to keep scratching at the wounds that keep tearing them apart?

And yet, it was needed.

They needed to do this, because those wounds were covered with lies and poison. The only way for them to really start healing is so rip the seals they used and use the truth.

...Even if he still has some secrets that he has not yet shared. Cannot share.

So as he recaptures her lips, digs his fingertips into her skin as if clutching her to him, as if trying to mold her into him so they could never part again, she will feel that same desire, that want.

That love.

And by gods, if he hadn't loved her before, he does now and so much more. It all hurts, there's still a lot they need to make up for, but it's as if most of that weight, that veil has finally been lifted. As if finally, finally they can really start moving forward. To get back to where they should have been.]

[There will be more of it, too. So much more grappling at these wounds, some that she's sure neither of them even know they have, but they had been festering for so long and they didn't realize... Beneath the patches they placed over them, they became infected with that poison over time, burrowing further and further into them until they could not heal and instead, were forced to bear them.

But now... they can see, and they can start to heal each other and move forward. It will be a long road, and to where, she doesn't know, but if she is going to move past these regrets, this guilt that continues to weigh her down, then she cannot afford to be afraid anymore. She has to trust in him, believe in him when he tells her that she can forge a new life here, together with him. It may not be the one that she wanted, but it's something, and it's not as if she's settling.

A life with him was the only one she ever wished for.

And now, it's in her grasp.

She meets him with equal passion, lips crushing against his, nails biting into his skin, pulling back only so that she can whisper to him—]

Forgive me...

[—before rushing to him again, her body pressing more firmly to his in a fit of passion that bursts to life in her so that she might deepen their kiss.

She's sorry. She's sorry for not realizing it sooner. For not telling him before it was too late...]

[He takes her fully, pushing up against her to make that want more evident, that if she ever had any question, that isn't want she needs to have.]

If you can forgive me, too.

[It's a low, hoarse whisper against her lips, his hands furtively seeking to touch anything they can find as they go over her face, her hair, her shoulders, and down to the shirt she's wearing to feel the heat of her skin, wanting to rid of it so he can feel more of it against his own.]

[All she can do is moan softly in response, his lips and his hands working magic over every part of her they touch that the heat of his fingers eclipses all else in the moment, saying things that words could never convey so clearly. Her own do the same, that want just as evident as they hungrily roam, palms splaying over his back, his neck, his shoulders, chest, fighting to close every little inch left between them.

And with her body flush to his, she can feel exactly how much he wants her. Teeth grazing over his lips, she shoves herself over him, pinning him between her legs so that she can show him just how much she wants him, too.

The time for words is over for now...]

[He's more than ready and willing, those pent up emotions needing to be released somewhere, and he arches his back to rise and meet up with hers, ready to push her back down—]

Fuck—!

[Only for him to have a sharp searing pain shoot up his side as he breaks the kiss and hisses, body hunching over hers as he is unfortunately reminded of that little gash on his side.

A gash that he hadn't seen a proper medic for and just bandaged it up, treating it as any other cut that will heal over time instead of getting proper medicine that would have actually helped the process.]

[So caught up in these spilling emotions that she doesn't remember the wound at all. Even when her hands rush over the bandage, she thinks nothing of it, mind blanking, too focused on the feel of him under her fingertips.

But that sudden break and the hiss that follows pulls her completely free of her bliss, her eyes snapping wide before she realizes...]

Shit.

[Her hand goes out to reach for him, settling on his chest to keep him steady, and that guilt returns, heavy in her gaze as she stares down at the bandages.]

... I forgot.

No, no—

[Said through clenched teeth as he tries to endure.]

It's fine, don't mind it.

[And he is definitely going to try and kiss her again.]

I will mind it.

[And she's just going to leeeean her head away from him when he tries to swoop in for another kiss, her guilt fading to exasperation for a beat before it flickers back.]

Because that is not what your reaction said just now.

[Oh come on—]

Just need to get into a proper position, that's all.

[Her own frustration gets the better of her, and with tear-stained cheeks, she leans in and presses a light kiss to the corner of his lips—]

And what position is that?

[—before she sneaks a light poke at his side.]

[A grin.]

Just with you on top and—ffffffffffffsonuva—!!!!

[A bitten off swear as she happens to poke the most sensitive spot, and again he flinches as he bites back the swear.]

[Uh huh, that's what she thought.

She sighs as she gently rubs the spot where she'd poked him, her expression drooping again.]

Just lie down, Cidolfus...

[A bit of a bitter, withering look, as if this is her greatest betrayal right here. However, he can't deny it now, and he just sighs as he slowly lowers himself onto the bed.]

Still think we could do it.

[Mutter grumble sullen pouting.]

Do you?

[Her hand is right there, and she is tempted to give it another poke just to drive the point home, but she doesn't. Instead, she brings her hands up to his face and tries to smooth out the pout in his brow before moving down to be beside him.

That isn't to say that she isn't aching for it either, the embers that he's set alight in her still burning with a need for release... but having him grunting in pain in the middle of it all would be the worst thing for both of them. What a way to kill the mood... and it's not even either of their faults.

She shifts, however, taking his hand to tug his arm around her, and so that she is half on top of him, her face over his, hair falling forward to tickle his cheeks.]

Then surely, you could keep going...?

[He stares at her for a moment, her actions doing little to quell those desires that continue to burn. But that throb at his side is an annoying reminder, and he clicks his tongue before his hand drifts down her back.]

There are other ways.

[And drifts down further to her hip.]

[There are other ways, and they play a dangerous game when his hand finds her hip, his fingertips sending a shudder through her from where he touches her. Like him, it does nothing to stem the heat that continues to simmer under her skin, does nothing to extinguish the way it flares in her eyes for a moment...]

There are.

[Does nothing to stop her from leaning in further, closing that gap between them so that she can kiss him sweetly, tenderly, or the soft roll of her hips...

But that is as far as she will allow it to get.]

... And we can try them once you see to that wound properly.

[There is a bit of a low growl against her lips as he kisses her in return, his hand not stopping its travels as it pushes past the fabric of his shirt on her, running over her bare skin and dipping dangerously over her inner thigh.]

You're not making this easy.

... When have I ever made anything easy for you?

[And her thighs dangerously part in response, some parts of her acting on pure, raw instinct while her brain screams at her to stop... but she can't help herself with him. She never could, especially less so now.

Her lips travel from his, caressing his jaw, smiling at the way his stubble scratches her cheek.]

You aren't exactly making it easy for me either, Cidolfus... but you're hurt.

[Very dangerous because those fingertips edge closer to her center, teasing her first by pulling her leg a little more.]

You know what they say, pain—

[And he happens to twist his side in such a way that he does feel some pain, the wound now more aggravated from before making him flinch.]

...Before pleasure.

[And then a sigh as his hand sadly slides up her leg to her side and back instead.]

Edited 2024-01-30 15:48 (UTC)

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