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

[That distance that she tries so very hard to pull him back from again with a palm resting on his cheek.

She wants to ask him what wars he might have fought in, or if he fought under Barnabas's name and that was how he came to find him, but even that leaves a bitter taste at the back of her throat like bile. That he would go so far as to—no, she has to shake that off before her own thoughts spiral out of control and she goes into a rage.

She brings her focus back to him, her expression drooping a bit.]

I suppose when you've nothing left in one place, it eventually becomes easier to move on to the next...

[She doesn't just mean him.]

[It does come back at her touch, and he looks at her for a moment.]

...It does.

[And he thinks of how hard it had been to leave Waloed. To leave her behind. Her refusal to come with him was that last link he had and once it was broken... Only then was it "easier."]

[There's a sullenness that falls heavy between them, all of those extra meanings weighing down on her. Easier for him to leave the Outer Continents. Easier for him to leave Waloed. Easier for her to leave their world behind...]

There was no other family remaining?

[She knows that it must be a touchy subject, especially when her own heart wrenches at the thought, but it's curiosity that has her asking.]

Edited 2024-01-31 05:17 (UTC)

[A hollow smile.]

Not that I knew of. My parents never spoke much about relatives even when I asked. My mother just kept mum, but...

[A low hum as his eyes flick down to her pendant and his hand drifts up to slowly lift it.]

My dad said that our family, the Telamons, used to have some old heritage as guardians or escorts or something like that, and this was the old family crest.

[She starts a bit when he reaches for the pendant, lifting it, and her heart both leaps and soars and sinks at the same time.]

This...?

[Her hand moves to clasp over his, her eyes big and round with surprise. She knew it was an heirloom of sorts, but she never asked. She figured that if she did, he wouldn't answer, and so she simply accepted it back then as a promise he'd made to her. That he might one day return to her to take it back...

...]

I had my suspicions that it was important, but... I never knew, Cidolfus...

[That she'd been carrying around a symbol of him all this time. Perhaps one of the last remaining ones.]

Had I known...

[A wry grin as he watches her react as he expected.]

You wouldn't have taken it. Which is why I didn't say anything.

[He fingers the gryphon and the two swords, noting how here it's been made whole again. Not chipped like it had been the last he saw it... Her wings, his swords. Was it coincidence or fate that it ended up fitting so well?]

And... Truth is, this is something he gave my mother.

[Somehow, she survives through what feels like a hundred skipped beats of her heart in that moment, her breath catching sharp in her chest. That hand that had been over his slides around to finger over the grooves of the pendant...

The one that had once been his mother's. A gift from his father...

And now, a gift from him to her.

Her brow furrows, a realization trying to chip away at her, and as much as she treasures it more than anything else she's ever owned—]

You shouldn't have...

Edited 2024-01-31 06:21 (UTC)

[He just continues to smile a little sadly as he looks at her and then at their hands over the pendant.]

...This crest is called the "Wings of Promise." In the past, it was a pledge for my bloodline to protect who they served. For my father, it was to my mother.

And for me...

[His voice trembles a bit.]

It was to you.

Cidolfus...

[His name falls out of her on a shaky sigh, her eyes trembling as they move from their hands up to connect with his.

The Wings of Promise.

How apt a name, she muses to herself, and she might have laughed at the pure irony of it if she were not already on the verge of tears again, those emotions coming in another tide that assaults her all at once.

She doesn't even know what she feels right now. Is it sadness? Guilt? Regret? Anger? Hell, could it even be joy? Or maybe it's a dangerous mix of each and every one. She knows that were this only a few months ago, she would have thrown this back at him... That is not something she will ever forget.

But now...]

You...

[All she can think to do is lean forward and close her lips over his, so that is exactly what she does, hoping that it might push away those whispers that try to claw forward from the back of her head. And when she does, he'll feel something wet and warm pressing to his cheeks.]

[He wouldn't have blamed her if she did, honestly. He knows very well what she could be thinking—that he didn't live up to it. That he had broken that promise, all of those promises, just like how it had been broken when he found it, as if to mock him further. And he did think and had a fear that she would throw it back at him, that this revelation would undo everything that just transpired.

Yet he told her, anyway.

And so his chest burns when he hears his name fall from her lips, sees those tears forming in her reddened eyes, and then feel them when she kisses him. One that only pushes those twin swords of guilt and regret deeper and deeper into him, the same swords he feels from the pendant as it digs into his palm as his hand tightens over it as he kisses her desperately back.

He promised her and he failed her. Failed to protect her, failed to come back to her, failed to free her, failed to save her—]

I'm sorry.

[It's all he manages to hoarsely whisper as his other arm pulls her tight to him.]

[And to think... he had thought that she had tossed it away. This one little piece of his past that he had left. This one little piece of him that she had left. The number of times she thought it, and stood at the shores of the Nile with it clutched painfully in her hand, prepared to throw it into the violent currents, was countless. Yet, in spite of how often she stood there and cursed his name, she could never bring herself to do it.

She could never completely let go of him, even when every speck of aether that she is made of wanted to, and even convinced her that she had in the end.

She has her heart to thank for all the conflicts... or else that last piece of him that she had, that last physical tether to his family, his past, would be buried deep in the sea.

His apology gets a firm shake of her head, and another press of her lips to his in a fervent attempt to suffocate those words. How she once thought hearing them from him would make her heart sing with vindication, but it only makes it twist and ache.]

You did keep your promise...

[It may be "too late", but they are here right now, aren't they?]

Edited 2024-01-31 07:07 (UTC)

[It is too late. Far too late. And her words are tearing at whatever little strand that's somehow keeping the burn in his eyes from spilling over.]

I...

[It's a haggard breath as he holds her tighter, his voice breaking as he's taken back to that charred, devastated ground, to when he picked up that pendant and found her body torn, bloodied, and still.]

When I found it... I thought you would have thrown it away. That's when I knew...how much of a fool I was...

[A fool for not realizing or knowing she really did still love him. That she held something still, that she was still waiting for him.]

I left it with you.

[Came back and buried the pendant with her.

And that part of his heart.]

[The realization is slow to dawn on her. She doesn't quite understand what he means at first, wondering if he's calling back to when he left Waloed. He never asked for it then like she feared he would. The confusion is clear in her eyes...

Until she finally understands.

It's instant.

The flood of emotions that fills her gaze, the way her heart nearly seizes in her chest, the way she, for a moment, forgets where they are, what they are doing, the world stopped.

He didn't mean in Waloed. He meant...

And that was why she had it with her. It wasn't because it was in her pocket. It was because he...

Benedikta pulls back suddenly, snapping the pendant from his grasp when she sits up on the bed. Her heart is racing at an alarming rate that it's terrifying.]

After I...?

[He was afraid of this, and he sits up when she does, that fear and panic rising. Did he say too much? Should have just kept it to himself?

He just stares at her, eyes blurring as he tries to answer, but instead he just clenches his teeth and looks away, eyes shut tight as his nails dig into his palms.]

[He doesn't need to say anything—that poignant, agonizing look on his face is enough to tell her that she's right, and she tears her own eyes away to stare down at the pendant where it now rests in her palm. This pendant that meant so much more than just their promise... How many generations did this crest span before it reached her? How many, before it finally ended with her?]

I always thought you would ask for it back.

[Not leave it with her. Not bury it with her. It's far too important for that.]

... This was your mother's. You should have taken it.

[Not because of whether or not he kept that promise, but because it was not hers to keep. Knowing now that even in death, he would have her hold it... that's far too heavy a burden that she can accept. Yet, she buckles under the weight of it anyway.

She didn't think it were possible, but more tears streak over her cheeks, her chipped-away will finally cracking when she stares at him.]

[He can only stare helplessly at her, wanting to reach out to her but unable to, afraid she would fly away if she did. But he knew his answer and he shakes his head.]

No... The moment I gave it to you, it was yours. Because you were the one... [A slight falter in his voice knowing how this will sound, but he continues on.] I chose.

[Even if he might have been young and a fool back then, she had been the only one who made him feel as much as she did, the only one who made him feel love. How much her words, her wish had resonated and made him move like no other.

His head hangs heavily, a hand wiping over his face.]

But if it's too much, I can take it back...

[She knows what he must be feeling and thinking right now. Her distance is very likely not making it better or easier, and when she hears his voice almost break, when she hears that he chose her, she falters.

It is too much. This has all been too much tonight. Too many emotions, too much information, too heavy a burden for her frail and broken heart to bear. The window is right there. She could shatter it with her winds and fly away from him, run away from it all like she has done so many times before.

But she doesn't. She can't because where would she go? Who else could she fly to? Where else could she rest her wings? She is tired and needs someone to catch her...

And who else does she want to catch her?

Him. It was always him.

Because just as he chose her, she chose him, too. A long time ago, when she was just a young, naive girl who didn't know any better, who admired the man who had saved her, she chose him.

Her fingers tighten around the pendant protectively.]

And if I never want to give it back? If I want to keep it?

[Just because she believes he should have taken it back doesn't mean she doesn't still treasure or want it. Even if only because it would mean he would come back for her again and again...]

[His hand falls as he looks at her then. He had half expected to hear the sound of that chain snapping and the pendant thrown at him, or perhaps at best held out or dropped on the bed for him to take. So when he hears the subtle sound he braces himself, but her words have him staring blankly at her, seeing how she clutches it to her like a prized treasure she would never elt go.

His heart, tired and aching as it is, pounds as he continues to not know what to think, expect, or hope anymore.]

Then keep it. [His voice tightens.] Nothing has changed.

[His feelings, that want, that desire.]

Only this time...

[Those promises.]

I won't fail.

[She clutches it to herself like a prized treasure because it is—it's her only prized treasure that she cherishes just as much as she does Garuda, her magic, and her life. And while he has given her plenty more in this life to value, she's sure that nothing will ever come close. It is the one thing that ties them together, and ties them to their past. She sure as hell doesn't need a reminder of it, but there were good things that happened, too. Good days that they spent together... and losing the pendant would mean losing that one physical reminder of them—of him—that she had.

And now it holds so much more meaning that she didn't now existed until tonight. That, not only did it belong to his family before her, but that it had gone with her even after she was long gone. She just hopes that his mother loved and cared for it as much as Benedikta does.

She holds it tighter, the tips of the swords carving into her palm while her other hand reaches out for him. She cradles the back of his head, drags him to meet her halfway so that she can whisper softly...]

You'd better not. Because I am keeping it.

[...and kiss him.

It's brief, but no less fervent as any other, her lips filled to the brim with this growing, all-consuming love for him. A love that she hates him for still, but it exists nonetheless. It's something that she can neither control or run from anymore, and so he might as well know it's there for certain. When she pulls back, it's in her eyes too, sparking bright in spite of the dim light.]

... If I'd lost it... It was the first thing I looked for when I woke here.

[There is relief when she reaches for him, and he feels he might break with that kiss, with her words. To have her keep it means to keep him despite it all. There has been very little that has shaken him, but it will be this that would surely be his undoing.

Truly, she was the best and worst decision of his life.

He sighs against her lips, forehead resting against hers.]

I had wondered... If you had it here.

[Wondered if it had come with her or if she would have tried to retrieve it if it didn't. If she would have still cared to keep it. So when he saw it on her neck on that fateful night of the masquerade, it was the true catalyst that sent them hurling down the path that brought them here.

This pendant, that he slowly reaches up to clasp his hand over hers, holding it tight. Holds it tightly, a small part of his chest over his heart feels as if it burns with those overwhelming emotions that continue to spill over.

This symbol of their connection, their love, that last thread that linked them together in life and death.

Perhaps this is their wings of fate, carrying them with that everlasting and eternal promise made a lifetime ago.]

...You still want it, truly? Even after knowing everything...?

[She nods slowly against his forehead, so close that her lips brush against his with the small movement, her voice almost breaking were it not for the way his hand holds her own tight around the pendant.]

It's mine now, isn't it?

[She truly wants it still, especially after knowing everything. Perhaps it's because of it that she feels even more protective of it now, even if the weight of it around her neck is a heavier one. And in case the message is not received loud and clear—]

I do.

[She will not ever let it go for anything. No sum of money, no threat, nothing. They may be moving forward, but she cannot let herself lose sight of who they were before, either. Those years are just as important as the ones ahead of them, however long they have.]

When I did not have you... I would reach into my pocket for it when I needed it.

[When she needed strength. Every moment she spent in Barnabas's company while they were together, her hand was in her pocket, the edges of it leaving divots in her palm. When she was scared. When she was angry. When she felt like she was going to fall with no one there to catch her, she would reach for those wings.]

[Every new revelation of how despite it all she still reached for him, sought for him in some way just tears him apart even more. And it's deserved, so he can't protest in any way. He just accepts it, his hand trembling as it tightens over hers before his lips takes hers, unable to stop himself.]

You have me now.

[Just a rough, torn whisper before he's kissing her again, harder this time as, wound be damned, he pulls her back to him, no longer wanting that distance that had briefly opened between them. And really, she always did even when they didn't. Always had a part of him that he could never get back and perhaps never wanted back. Wanted that part to stay with her.]

[She does. She wants to tell him as much, but he doesn't give her the chance to before she's pulled to him and her lips are captured, whatever words she might have formed consumed by the kiss. In the thick heat of the moment, she obliges, falling onto his lap in one fell swoop and with practiced ease, his hips slotting between her legs so perfectly that he was made to fit there.

Instead of words, she keens into it, making her affirmation known all the same as she parts her lips in invitation to him, a beckon for him to take what is rightfully his...

...

That is, until she pulls back when she remembers, her hand sliding down his chest and over the cotton bandage again.]

Cidolfus, your wound...

Fuck the wound.

[A low growl as he forcibly pulls her back His hold on her tighter as his teeth nip her lip before his tongue pushes past to find hers, as if hunting for it.]

[As if that is all she needs, that guilt-ridden look shifts to pure lust as he takes her again, a growl of her own when he nips at her lip. Her hips jerk against his, the motion bringing them closer together, and it only serves to heighten the ache there when she feels him.

If he wants it, then who is she to deny him that when she wants it just as much? When she has needed that release since they first kissed tonight here in his bed? Perhaps even more that. These emotions need someplace to go, and there is only one way to free them. One way for them...

With a soft moan into the kiss, her hand presses firmly to his chest, nudging him to lie down.]

...Let me take care of you, then.

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