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[He does understand. He understands more than he wants to; he knows exactly what it feels like to see raw fear bloom like poison across an enemy's face right before he crushes the life out of them. It feels like satisfaction, it feels like vengeance, like every moment of mages' anger and suffering and grief finally and rightfully answered. He calls them separate, Justice and him, but in those moments he can't tell the difference between them, and it feels like the closest he's ever come to madness. He knows that all that hatred, all that rage, all that vicious satisfaction— Justice hadn't been that, before Anders.
He'd felt it when Ella had died, too. A rush of victory followed by creeping, cutting horror. What his anger is turning him into: that's what terrifies him.
If his fingers are shaking when he types the next message, well. It isn't as if there's anyone around to see.]
FROM: anders@cdc.org
that feeling doesnt go away
[It's been nearly five years. If anything, the feeling has gotten worse.]
FROM: anders@cdc.org
what about jasper? shepard? if giving it up meant protecting them, what then
He'd felt it when Ella had died, too. A rush of victory followed by creeping, cutting horror. What his anger is turning him into: that's what terrifies him.
If his fingers are shaking when he types the next message, well. It isn't as if there's anyone around to see.]
FROM: anders@cdc.org
that feeling doesnt go away
[It's been nearly five years. If anything, the feeling has gotten worse.]
FROM: anders@cdc.org
what about jasper? shepard? if giving it up meant protecting them, what then
[She climbs up after him, a hand on the side of the hatch - angles with her shoulders just enough to let him by without moving too deep in the cramped vehicle.
--Because it is cramped, crowded with the detritus of four different lives overflowing into each other. It's clothes and dishware and spare shoes, one set of bunks with all the blankets pulled taut and the other spilling out; small flowers in the table and jars and jars and jars. It's mess and order, blatantly taking advantage of every narrow inch of space the rover allowed. And it's strangely intimate. Not that she isn't used to living on top of people. Not that she isn't used to close quarters, the minor bullshit that anyone who's anyone collects (pictures in the corners of mirrors and glued to the inside of sea chest lids, porno mags in full sight, wearing your boots and putting your feet on someone's bunk anyway--). But she's been in the Alliance with its regs and militantly 'squared away' sensibilities, has been cycled in and out of rovers since signing on with the CDC and the air of domesticity in ever corner of the compartment catches like knuckles pressed against her sternum.
Corvo leaves the door open; Shepard drags it shut with a heavy click. Moving to take the recently vacated seat, she doesn't bother to set the bottle down before unscrewing the cap. The rover is quiet enough, still enough, that the sound of the bottle's neck clinking against the glass as she pours one then the other seems significantly loud.]
Take a seat. Have a drink.
[He's half put together at best, she isn't here to talk bullshit - there's a kind of satisfactory power in that, isn't there? There sure as hell should be, her flak jacket collar turned up against her neck. She doesn't let herself look too hard at the interior of the rover or the squirming animals Corvo's currently juggling. Instead she spins the cap back on the bottle and sets in at the center of the table with a tinny metallic tang and wraps her hand expectantly around her own glass.]
--Because it is cramped, crowded with the detritus of four different lives overflowing into each other. It's clothes and dishware and spare shoes, one set of bunks with all the blankets pulled taut and the other spilling out; small flowers in the table and jars and jars and jars. It's mess and order, blatantly taking advantage of every narrow inch of space the rover allowed. And it's strangely intimate. Not that she isn't used to living on top of people. Not that she isn't used to close quarters, the minor bullshit that anyone who's anyone collects (pictures in the corners of mirrors and glued to the inside of sea chest lids, porno mags in full sight, wearing your boots and putting your feet on someone's bunk anyway--). But she's been in the Alliance with its regs and militantly 'squared away' sensibilities, has been cycled in and out of rovers since signing on with the CDC and the air of domesticity in ever corner of the compartment catches like knuckles pressed against her sternum.
Corvo leaves the door open; Shepard drags it shut with a heavy click. Moving to take the recently vacated seat, she doesn't bother to set the bottle down before unscrewing the cap. The rover is quiet enough, still enough, that the sound of the bottle's neck clinking against the glass as she pours one then the other seems significantly loud.]
Take a seat. Have a drink.
[He's half put together at best, she isn't here to talk bullshit - there's a kind of satisfactory power in that, isn't there? There sure as hell should be, her flak jacket collar turned up against her neck. She doesn't let herself look too hard at the interior of the rover or the squirming animals Corvo's currently juggling. Instead she spins the cap back on the bottle and sets in at the center of the table with a tinny metallic tang and wraps her hand expectantly around her own glass.]
[ There's something to being stripped down that there isn't to anything else. The careful disregard of almost everything else. Feels smaller without the coat, feels a little less in control but the marvellous thing is that it does not bother him. The loose comfort of his shirt that allows him to hold them together, even if the cave is cold, and it's the skittering feeling of touch between scars that causes a shiver that isn't helped. Something to stripping off for her, the shrug where to goes from shoulders to elbows, elbows to wrists, wrists to the ground.
How long? ( he knows how long ) but the touches he's received that are not to hurt have been so brief, so in between that he still isn't quite sure what to do with it all. His breaths shake where they're meant to be steadying and the strokes against her are broad in their caress. There is so much of her ( not, so much in mass, she's so slight under his palms, these fine parts of her all kept smooth where they are secret, flecked with marks of the life she's lived ) to touch, that he wants to spend time ( he doesn't have time ) tracing every part of her. Can't do that so there's a middle ground instead where all his nervous little habits are put to use. The constant movement of his hands, gripping and kneading at her. Rough explorative movements.
But her hands are so warm and every part of her is beckoning to some small instinct he knows better than to indulge ( the problem with killing, it is too easy ) and he pulls back only a little ( too much space might kill him, instead ). He's gotten a little too used t being mocked, least of all by her, to do anything but give her a lazy blink and a brief grimace for the difficulty of something that should be simple.
Or at least, at first, it's much harder to be composed and focused on the little clasp when her hands dip low and sure of what they are doing. rocks into her without meaning to. Because her hands are warm but other parts of her are warmer and there's a narrowing of focusing that occurs just for that alone. Groans out, less the torture and all her. Straining briefly as his head tilts up a second to swallow back. Attempt at not just -- just tossing her down. But there's an idea isn't there? ] Just different. Less laces. [ Not the ornate things Jessamine would wear, and like most things, he fumbled around for a minute longer before he finally figured out how it worked. Clasp undone and her shirt still in the way, but it matters a lot less to smoothing his hand back around, cupping her properly and slow. Thumbs brushing again but it's over nipples and harsher as he lent to kiss her again, rough sound of satisfaction pressed to her lips. Either for being able to touch her, or because her hands are far too sure of themselves as they curl around him through his pants.
Takes in a low, low breath, holds it into his chest in a matters deliberation where she's just right there, and such a thing to hold and that's the most overwhelming thing he can remember or wants to. Then it's sudden and quick, his hands drop back to curve under her and lifts her all at once. Gripping tight, but realistically they're not going far, he's just turning them about, kicking out his jacket as he goes to his knees holding her. Aims to get her back down onto the jacket. If they had any sense, they'd be doing this in a rover with a bed, but that's not quite them, really, whatever them was. Still, something of a gentleman, he doesn't want her to get cold as he shifts her back, sliding up to support her. ]
How long? ( he knows how long ) but the touches he's received that are not to hurt have been so brief, so in between that he still isn't quite sure what to do with it all. His breaths shake where they're meant to be steadying and the strokes against her are broad in their caress. There is so much of her ( not, so much in mass, she's so slight under his palms, these fine parts of her all kept smooth where they are secret, flecked with marks of the life she's lived ) to touch, that he wants to spend time ( he doesn't have time ) tracing every part of her. Can't do that so there's a middle ground instead where all his nervous little habits are put to use. The constant movement of his hands, gripping and kneading at her. Rough explorative movements.
But her hands are so warm and every part of her is beckoning to some small instinct he knows better than to indulge ( the problem with killing, it is too easy ) and he pulls back only a little ( too much space might kill him, instead ). He's gotten a little too used t being mocked, least of all by her, to do anything but give her a lazy blink and a brief grimace for the difficulty of something that should be simple.
Or at least, at first, it's much harder to be composed and focused on the little clasp when her hands dip low and sure of what they are doing. rocks into her without meaning to. Because her hands are warm but other parts of her are warmer and there's a narrowing of focusing that occurs just for that alone. Groans out, less the torture and all her. Straining briefly as his head tilts up a second to swallow back. Attempt at not just -- just tossing her down. But there's an idea isn't there? ] Just different. Less laces. [ Not the ornate things Jessamine would wear, and like most things, he fumbled around for a minute longer before he finally figured out how it worked. Clasp undone and her shirt still in the way, but it matters a lot less to smoothing his hand back around, cupping her properly and slow. Thumbs brushing again but it's over nipples and harsher as he lent to kiss her again, rough sound of satisfaction pressed to her lips. Either for being able to touch her, or because her hands are far too sure of themselves as they curl around him through his pants.
Takes in a low, low breath, holds it into his chest in a matters deliberation where she's just right there, and such a thing to hold and that's the most overwhelming thing he can remember or wants to. Then it's sudden and quick, his hands drop back to curve under her and lifts her all at once. Gripping tight, but realistically they're not going far, he's just turning them about, kicking out his jacket as he goes to his knees holding her. Aims to get her back down onto the jacket. If they had any sense, they'd be doing this in a rover with a bed, but that's not quite them, really, whatever them was. Still, something of a gentleman, he doesn't want her to get cold as he shifts her back, sliding up to support her. ]
[ The heavy sound of the door closing is weighted enough. He still has no idea what she's doing, this isn't so much not like her as not like them. This is new territory, this is a battle formation he doesn't know and they don't fight like home. There's no ordered rows and canons so loud he thought he would never hear again properly.
Or maybe he should stop over thinking of it and finding imperfect matches to things he knows because it still only feels like he's on his back foot. His free hand is idle at is side, watching her pour it. The clear liquid heavier than water and he knows it, Wade has bottles of it and drunk it like it was water. It stills smells Tyvian, apparently that was common for them all? Sloshed around the bottom of the glasses and he waited for her first. Take the seat first, drink first. There's a life time of paranoia and that's tricky to muddle through the worst of.
He thinks she's probably just shoot him ( eyes that gun at her back all over again ) and sighs. Firn makes a noise at his chest and he shushes her, reaching for the glass Shepard had poured. ]
After you.
[ Brief gesture to the chair as he takes the one opposite. Off kilter, he was to wait for a lady to sit first, but he didn't think she would. Stubbornly to that end, he puts the drink to his mouth and slips slow. ]
Or maybe he should stop over thinking of it and finding imperfect matches to things he knows because it still only feels like he's on his back foot. His free hand is idle at is side, watching her pour it. The clear liquid heavier than water and he knows it, Wade has bottles of it and drunk it like it was water. It stills smells Tyvian, apparently that was common for them all? Sloshed around the bottom of the glasses and he waited for her first. Take the seat first, drink first. There's a life time of paranoia and that's tricky to muddle through the worst of.
He thinks she's probably just shoot him ( eyes that gun at her back all over again ) and sighs. Firn makes a noise at his chest and he shushes her, reaching for the glass Shepard had poured. ]
After you.
[ Brief gesture to the chair as he takes the one opposite. Off kilter, he was to wait for a lady to sit first, but he didn't think she would. Stubbornly to that end, he puts the drink to his mouth and slips slow. ]
[A beat, the glass in her hand-- and then she knocks back the entire contents of it before she takes the seat, straight forward enough, and sets the glass down near the bottle. The pistol at the small of her back sits certain, bumping against the back of the chair with a faint click and hiss of the brushed metal and composite fiber.]
You can relax. I'm not gonna waste a perfectly good bottle of booze on poisoning you with it.
[Because that's exactly the kind of thing you should tell someone to put their mind at ease. She settled in the chair - pins the pistol, hooks her elbow over the edge of the chair back and raises her chin by a series of degrees to him. In theory, it's more casual posture than leaning across the table toward him might by. In reality, there's something of a wolfish danger to it: like an animal settling back on its heels, readying itself to spring.]
So let's not bullshit each other, Attano. I'm here to make you a deal.
You can relax. I'm not gonna waste a perfectly good bottle of booze on poisoning you with it.
[Because that's exactly the kind of thing you should tell someone to put their mind at ease. She settled in the chair - pins the pistol, hooks her elbow over the edge of the chair back and raises her chin by a series of degrees to him. In theory, it's more casual posture than leaning across the table toward him might by. In reality, there's something of a wolfish danger to it: like an animal settling back on its heels, readying itself to spring.]
So let's not bullshit each other, Attano. I'm here to make you a deal.
[ He settles back as she does. One leg kicked out under the table and the other curling back under, tapping slightly, bobbing his leg with the action. Might be nerves might be habit but where she takes the drink, gives him the confidence to take a longer mouthful. Not that he doesn't trust her. It's just that he doesn't trust her when it comes to him. ]
Quality only increases the likelihood in my experience.
[ A dismissive shrug, he's got a lot of stories to that end and undoubtedly she wanted to hear none of them. The glass settled back against the table, turns it slowly between thumb and forefinger. This all tastes bitterly of something he isn't sure he wants, but she's got him here. Doesn't respond, she'd make the offer whether he said he wanted to listen or not, learned that much so far. Swallows on the taste of it, and waited for whatever she felt like saying. ]
Quality only increases the likelihood in my experience.
[ A dismissive shrug, he's got a lot of stories to that end and undoubtedly she wanted to hear none of them. The glass settled back against the table, turns it slowly between thumb and forefinger. This all tastes bitterly of something he isn't sure he wants, but she's got him here. Doesn't respond, she'd make the offer whether he said he wanted to listen or not, learned that much so far. Swallows on the taste of it, and waited for whatever she felt like saying. ]
Then you really don't have to worry.
[It was bare minimum drinkable by pretty much any standard, good only by merit of being on some backwater planet without access to any supply lines. A step up from toilet bowl wine, sure, but it's not like she's peddling anything fancy here and pointing it out - the stark simplicity of it - is as close to a cut as she's likely going to get tonight. Here, anyway. In the swaddled, well-worn and comfortable air of the rover, the track lights lending a low burn of yellow and gold to the rims of jars and the emptiness of her cup, it almost feels like something that could wound.
She's itching to pour herself another drink but she stays her hand, fingers instead idle near the collar of her jacket - tracing the lapel with an easy going angle of her thumbnail that belies the sharp angles of her consonants and the twitch of a curl at her lip.]
Attano, I don't like you and you don't like me. [An oversimplification at best; in the breast pocket of her jacket is a charm carved from bone, no longer than her first finger.] But I think we both know we have some similar interests.
[Her hand strays then, wandering to one of Jasper's jars on the table. Shepard's careful not to move it - in fact barely touches it, her thumb tapping along the table directly beside it. She's not gentle - not for anyone and not for Corvo especially -, but she's gentle with this, touch exceedingly light.] Jasper's not going to get out of your way and there's nothing I can do to make you stop, but you know that - don't you? [Knows he's dangerous. Knows there's something wrong in him; he'd apologized to her on the Neheda all those months ago. Was still apologizing, maybe. She lifts her eyes from the jar, hand stilling. Breath stilling. Somewhere in the rover and sounding farther away than it should, the roomba makes a small cheerful noise.] So it sounds to me like I've got two options. One, I make sure you don't come back from something. Or two, we work together and you tell me when it looks like shit's about to hit the fan.
Your pick.
[It was bare minimum drinkable by pretty much any standard, good only by merit of being on some backwater planet without access to any supply lines. A step up from toilet bowl wine, sure, but it's not like she's peddling anything fancy here and pointing it out - the stark simplicity of it - is as close to a cut as she's likely going to get tonight. Here, anyway. In the swaddled, well-worn and comfortable air of the rover, the track lights lending a low burn of yellow and gold to the rims of jars and the emptiness of her cup, it almost feels like something that could wound.
She's itching to pour herself another drink but she stays her hand, fingers instead idle near the collar of her jacket - tracing the lapel with an easy going angle of her thumbnail that belies the sharp angles of her consonants and the twitch of a curl at her lip.]
Attano, I don't like you and you don't like me. [An oversimplification at best; in the breast pocket of her jacket is a charm carved from bone, no longer than her first finger.] But I think we both know we have some similar interests.
[Her hand strays then, wandering to one of Jasper's jars on the table. Shepard's careful not to move it - in fact barely touches it, her thumb tapping along the table directly beside it. She's not gentle - not for anyone and not for Corvo especially -, but she's gentle with this, touch exceedingly light.] Jasper's not going to get out of your way and there's nothing I can do to make you stop, but you know that - don't you? [Knows he's dangerous. Knows there's something wrong in him; he'd apologized to her on the Neheda all those months ago. Was still apologizing, maybe. She lifts her eyes from the jar, hand stilling. Breath stilling. Somewhere in the rover and sounding farther away than it should, the roomba makes a small cheerful noise.] So it sounds to me like I've got two options. One, I make sure you don't come back from something. Or two, we work together and you tell me when it looks like shit's about to hit the fan.
Your pick.
[ There's a lot of things he could say, right then. But the one he wants to most isn't to anything she asked. It's to correct her. She has him wrong, she has him exactly right. It's all off by degrees. A dance where they stepped at the wrong time, maybe. But who is he to deny them their favourite steps that way as to do something like correct her?
She is stubborn and he is wilful and he does nothing but look across the space across them, the measured half turns between his fingers of the glass. The swallow of the whiskey and he moves his leg then, chair pushed out at the angle to brace his ankle on the opposite knee, fingers curling over the curve of his boot and drummed his fingers in slow consideration. He'd might have wanted to have this conversation months ago, on the Nehada when it was all too raw and Aeryn had listened to the worst of the things he had to say. He supposes he still does, it's just none of this is as he expected but she liked doing that to him. Competition they inadvertently entered. ]
I did not know you played politic. [ His fingers curled around the soft blue head of Firn, asleep and rising and falling with slow breath, such a tiny fragile body. An absent made gesture, he would never dream of looking away from her when she was speaking to him like this. ] You would hear nothing I had to say before, why now?
She is stubborn and he is wilful and he does nothing but look across the space across them, the measured half turns between his fingers of the glass. The swallow of the whiskey and he moves his leg then, chair pushed out at the angle to brace his ankle on the opposite knee, fingers curling over the curve of his boot and drummed his fingers in slow consideration. He'd might have wanted to have this conversation months ago, on the Nehada when it was all too raw and Aeryn had listened to the worst of the things he had to say. He supposes he still does, it's just none of this is as he expected but she liked doing that to him. Competition they inadvertently entered. ]
I did not know you played politic. [ His fingers curled around the soft blue head of Firn, asleep and rising and falling with slow breath, such a tiny fragile body. An absent made gesture, he would never dream of looking away from her when she was speaking to him like this. ] You would hear nothing I had to say before, why now?
[He takes the joke easy, without blushing or stuttering, even as she shifts her shoulder blades under the line of his hand. Gives her a look, sure, but it doesn't manage to stick around once she's got her hand on his dick, even through the pants. And he's pushing forward into her, all eager, and she likes that in a man, that point when someone who's so composed slips up. Makes a horrible mistake. All weakness.]
I imagine so- [She'd never been much for laces. Words accompanied by only the smallest motion of her palm against him, stroking to generous a word. Shifting, maybe. Small adjustment as she fits her fingers around him to feel out exactly what he was thinking with. Vicious and underhanded but he manages to get the clasps undone anyhow, loosens across the width of her chest like some great relief. She bites her lip again, sets her chin along the line of his shoulder, eyelids lazy and low as she focused on the rough palms sliding over where her skin is comparably soft. Protected from the life she'd lived, for the most part. Right up until he gets them up, over, thumbs sliding over her in a way that is shocking. Makes a small noise, presses up into him even as he pushes her back with the same hands to kiss her, not nearly as gentle or thoughtful.
For a second she almost forgets everything. Almost. It comes back to her with a breath and the hot flush of her own skin and she presses and rocks her hand up against him again, just to see what he'll do.
Apparently, what he'd do for her hand on his dick and his hands on her tits is get impatient. Drops away from her chest in a way that aches but it's only to shift to her ass. Lower. Hikes her up his body with one sharp motion and it's the option of either going along with it or getting dropped, so she brings her knees up around him, and maybe it's faster than she was thinking he'd be but she wouldn't have had her hand on his cock in a place so private you could hide a body if she wasn't prepared for fast.
She takes her hand off him then to reach around behind his back, nails through the fabric of his shirt, half a laugh in the back of her throat as he turns her away from the wall. Then it's just turning her face to his, even more imperfect this close, skin all weather worn and creases deeper and eyelashes very dark. The easiest thing in the world to press her nose to the flat of his cheek, shift to press her lips against his jaw, day old stubble. Clings very tight when he drops onto his knees because she doesn't trust most anyone and it's safer, even if it does draw her a lot closer to where he's hot and obvious. Tucks her face into his neck when he lowers her onto the floor- cold through his coat, but not nearly as much as it could be.]
You move quick. [More easy amusement, nothing like disapproval as she untangles herself from him props herself up on the palm of one hand, not quite ready to lay down for him, yet. The front of her bra ghosting strange through her shirt as undone as it is. Hair a mess. Which was fine, except for certain things. Reaches up to pull the bandanna free, then, with it still tucked in the palm of her hand, uses her first two fingers to undo a couple of strange silvery hair-clips, snapping them back around the bandanna so the won't be lost. Habit or affection, hard to tell. Doesn't even look at him, how he's holding up, through the process. Until she can carefully toss it aside to her abandoned bag.
Then she looks at him again. That short break to gather herself or let him gather himself. Figure out what he wanted to do, even though she figures he probably already knows.]
I imagine so- [She'd never been much for laces. Words accompanied by only the smallest motion of her palm against him, stroking to generous a word. Shifting, maybe. Small adjustment as she fits her fingers around him to feel out exactly what he was thinking with. Vicious and underhanded but he manages to get the clasps undone anyhow, loosens across the width of her chest like some great relief. She bites her lip again, sets her chin along the line of his shoulder, eyelids lazy and low as she focused on the rough palms sliding over where her skin is comparably soft. Protected from the life she'd lived, for the most part. Right up until he gets them up, over, thumbs sliding over her in a way that is shocking. Makes a small noise, presses up into him even as he pushes her back with the same hands to kiss her, not nearly as gentle or thoughtful.
For a second she almost forgets everything. Almost. It comes back to her with a breath and the hot flush of her own skin and she presses and rocks her hand up against him again, just to see what he'll do.
Apparently, what he'd do for her hand on his dick and his hands on her tits is get impatient. Drops away from her chest in a way that aches but it's only to shift to her ass. Lower. Hikes her up his body with one sharp motion and it's the option of either going along with it or getting dropped, so she brings her knees up around him, and maybe it's faster than she was thinking he'd be but she wouldn't have had her hand on his cock in a place so private you could hide a body if she wasn't prepared for fast.
She takes her hand off him then to reach around behind his back, nails through the fabric of his shirt, half a laugh in the back of her throat as he turns her away from the wall. Then it's just turning her face to his, even more imperfect this close, skin all weather worn and creases deeper and eyelashes very dark. The easiest thing in the world to press her nose to the flat of his cheek, shift to press her lips against his jaw, day old stubble. Clings very tight when he drops onto his knees because she doesn't trust most anyone and it's safer, even if it does draw her a lot closer to where he's hot and obvious. Tucks her face into his neck when he lowers her onto the floor- cold through his coat, but not nearly as much as it could be.]
You move quick. [More easy amusement, nothing like disapproval as she untangles herself from him props herself up on the palm of one hand, not quite ready to lay down for him, yet. The front of her bra ghosting strange through her shirt as undone as it is. Hair a mess. Which was fine, except for certain things. Reaches up to pull the bandanna free, then, with it still tucked in the palm of her hand, uses her first two fingers to undo a couple of strange silvery hair-clips, snapping them back around the bandanna so the won't be lost. Habit or affection, hard to tell. Doesn't even look at him, how he's holding up, through the process. Until she can carefully toss it aside to her abandoned bag.
Then she looks at him again. That short break to gather herself or let him gather himself. Figure out what he wanted to do, even though she figures he probably already knows.]
[A ghost of disgust passes over her face, there and gone again over 'politic.' She is-- playing at it with no real grace or cunning, but there's something hard and certain in her expression when the flicker of annoyance passes that suggests she's at least genuine (though was that even doubtful? there's nothing really uncertain about a pointed death threat matched with an ultimatum).
She draws her hand back from near the jar, setting it instead across her thigh under the edge of the table - hidden from view, but her pistol isn't exactly in a place to be convenient, so there's very little threat to it. Maybe no one's ever told him not to look a gift horse in the mouth.]
What difference does it make?
She draws her hand back from near the jar, setting it instead across her thigh under the edge of the table - hidden from view, but her pistol isn't exactly in a place to be convenient, so there's very little threat to it. Maybe no one's ever told him not to look a gift horse in the mouth.]
What difference does it make?
[ This is all horrible weakness. He probably would be better with someone he didn't think would take advantage. But that was the point of it all, wasn't it? He wanted this to be as uncomplicated as possible. All unfeeling drive. ( even if he's not quite capable of that entirely, he wouldn't have given into it if she hadn't been everything she was )
The sharp movement keeps her close as she doesn't settle back straight away. Nose against her cheek in a huff of laughter. ] When I need too.
[ Doesn't let her go, with her legs around his hips and one of his hands falls to brace on the ground at the angle they're at. Lets her do whatever she likes and doesn't help. Repayment maybe, for how distracting she had been though he doesn't quite have the angle to roam as far as he is want. Nose tracing across her cheek and down her neck. Warm huffs of breath as shifted where her shirt was open at the collar, pulling at skin in almost bites but the graze of teeth was lighter than that. Soft and coaxing, not quite enough to get in her way but she's fiddling with her hair in a certain reverence he doubts has anything to do with him. It's not his business, not really.
Pulls back only when he can feel her looking at him and the world is so marvellously simple in the dark of this cave. The hand curled around her lower back shifting in its grip as he slides her just so against him. Strong enough to make her seem weightless and kisses her fast and hard, teeth and tongue and soft breathed out noise in contrast to the movement itself. Mumble against her mouth. He's too simple of a man and he knows it, just in this way it never seemed a problem. ] Spirits, you're beautiful. [ Stupid to say but mumbled so close he thinks she might forgive him it. Lashes lowered and gently moves with a roll forward to press her down the rest of the way. Weight still braced in the lock of his other arm that he can just.
... Idiot really, but just look at her a moment. Simple sort of reverence that was best done by desperate men. Darkness no bother to him, not really. All streaked in blue and dark and he shifts slowly once she's back down her body. ]
The sharp movement keeps her close as she doesn't settle back straight away. Nose against her cheek in a huff of laughter. ] When I need too.
[ Doesn't let her go, with her legs around his hips and one of his hands falls to brace on the ground at the angle they're at. Lets her do whatever she likes and doesn't help. Repayment maybe, for how distracting she had been though he doesn't quite have the angle to roam as far as he is want. Nose tracing across her cheek and down her neck. Warm huffs of breath as shifted where her shirt was open at the collar, pulling at skin in almost bites but the graze of teeth was lighter than that. Soft and coaxing, not quite enough to get in her way but she's fiddling with her hair in a certain reverence he doubts has anything to do with him. It's not his business, not really.
Pulls back only when he can feel her looking at him and the world is so marvellously simple in the dark of this cave. The hand curled around her lower back shifting in its grip as he slides her just so against him. Strong enough to make her seem weightless and kisses her fast and hard, teeth and tongue and soft breathed out noise in contrast to the movement itself. Mumble against her mouth. He's too simple of a man and he knows it, just in this way it never seemed a problem. ] Spirits, you're beautiful. [ Stupid to say but mumbled so close he thinks she might forgive him it. Lashes lowered and gently moves with a roll forward to press her down the rest of the way. Weight still braced in the lock of his other arm that he can just.
... Idiot really, but just look at her a moment. Simple sort of reverence that was best done by desperate men. Darkness no bother to him, not really. All streaked in blue and dark and he shifts slowly once she's back down her body. ]
[He didn't go far, just lingered near her neck, mouth low under her collar, all distracting , not rough or unexpected. Not too close to the scar she'd stopped keeping locked away but still didn't spend much time flashing around.
He finally gives her some space to breath, dark fall of his hair and he looks surprisingly happy, for him. Apparently she was a fine distraction for whatever had brought him into the woods in the first place. Smiled lazy in return, eyes half lidded. Almost rolls her eyes, even if it's fond, when he pulls her closer, lifts her up. Parts her lips for him when he comes back in, tips her head easily to the press of him, and it's surprising, really, that he doesn't taste more like blood. Doesn't quite manage to get enough air like this, raises the flush in her face higher. Has her shifting back into him. Pressing closer to the smothering heat through his crepe-thin shirt.
The words have her opening her eyes, wide, blinks even as he pushes her back and down, surprised enough to go with it, uneven shaking breath. She figured he found her plenty nice to look at, returning the favor, maybe, but that's a twisting kind of honesty, almost embarrasses her. She doesn't think much of herself, that way. Not that she's a blushing virgin or anything, but-
Oh, but she might be easy for this.
Not so much his eyes on her, though. Gets her head back on as straight as she can manage, as best as she can manage. Reaches back up to him, links her fingers into his collar, tugging him back up to her, even as she starts at the buttons there. Better like that. Better with warm skin and his scars under her mouth.]
Don't leave me waiting Attano.
He finally gives her some space to breath, dark fall of his hair and he looks surprisingly happy, for him. Apparently she was a fine distraction for whatever had brought him into the woods in the first place. Smiled lazy in return, eyes half lidded. Almost rolls her eyes, even if it's fond, when he pulls her closer, lifts her up. Parts her lips for him when he comes back in, tips her head easily to the press of him, and it's surprising, really, that he doesn't taste more like blood. Doesn't quite manage to get enough air like this, raises the flush in her face higher. Has her shifting back into him. Pressing closer to the smothering heat through his crepe-thin shirt.
The words have her opening her eyes, wide, blinks even as he pushes her back and down, surprised enough to go with it, uneven shaking breath. She figured he found her plenty nice to look at, returning the favor, maybe, but that's a twisting kind of honesty, almost embarrasses her. She doesn't think much of herself, that way. Not that she's a blushing virgin or anything, but-
Oh, but she might be easy for this.
Not so much his eyes on her, though. Gets her head back on as straight as she can manage, as best as she can manage. Reaches back up to him, links her fingers into his collar, tugging him back up to her, even as she starts at the buttons there. Better like that. Better with warm skin and his scars under her mouth.]
Don't leave me waiting Attano.
[ There's something to the languid back and forwards of kissing her, her kissing him, push and pull as half gentle as waves even if they aren't particular as kind. Pressing them into, fingers moving in idle patterns as she dragged him down to reach for buttons and that stills him. Trembling line down his back, breath caught and it's not so much self conscious because it's not as if he's vain, never has been.
He's just been raised to particular expectations. But she knew what was under there, it hadn't bothered her before. Swallows back slowly on them and tries to appear as if it's nothing as he works to repay the favour. One hand down her body and that's pointed distraction as it curls around the top of her thighs, fingers sliding up in a firm drag to make up for the course material of her pants to her hip. Unbearably warm even through her clothes. Starts on the other end that she's working, finding the bottom button of her shirt and tabs it open with a thumb. Not smooth exactly but it gets the job done. Bit by bit undoing her shirt with knuckles dragging on the soft of her stomach. ]
Wouldn't dream of it. Poor gentleman if I did that. [ But he's impatient and decides on something internally that doesn't so much show in his face but his hands when they pull away from her to push up out of her grip. It's a lazy stretch as he shifts up onto his knees and arms reach up and over his head to grab the back of his shirt to draw it over his head. Tugs in a line and pulls it up and over, all bare and the air is cold but no where near enough to bother him when he can sink back down over her. Picking up where he left off easily enough. ]
He's just been raised to particular expectations. But she knew what was under there, it hadn't bothered her before. Swallows back slowly on them and tries to appear as if it's nothing as he works to repay the favour. One hand down her body and that's pointed distraction as it curls around the top of her thighs, fingers sliding up in a firm drag to make up for the course material of her pants to her hip. Unbearably warm even through her clothes. Starts on the other end that she's working, finding the bottom button of her shirt and tabs it open with a thumb. Not smooth exactly but it gets the job done. Bit by bit undoing her shirt with knuckles dragging on the soft of her stomach. ]
Wouldn't dream of it. Poor gentleman if I did that. [ But he's impatient and decides on something internally that doesn't so much show in his face but his hands when they pull away from her to push up out of her grip. It's a lazy stretch as he shifts up onto his knees and arms reach up and over his head to grab the back of his shirt to draw it over his head. Tugs in a line and pulls it up and over, all bare and the air is cold but no where near enough to bother him when he can sink back down over her. Picking up where he left off easily enough. ]
[Too sharp and too focused on him to miss the small pauses. On the little hesitation. The minute shake, but there's, oh, too man reasons that might be. Too many possibly hangups. She figures if he wants her to stop, he'll tell her. Until then she forges forward. Lets him distract himself the same way. Firm, firm touch across her thighs, close enough to a promise.
Then it's buttons. Hers a lot less complicated than his small, intricate ones. Still, she's managing just fine, even as the muscles in her stomach jump with each slide of his knuckles, cool air coming in across her.
She opens her mouth, set to say something just as clever in return, but he's leaning away from her, hands off her stomach, shirt out from under her hands. Closes her mouth to watch him lean back and pulls the shirt over his shoulders, up over his head, not all that slow but it's a pretty show anyhow. Sight of him shirtless not enough to to shock her anymore. Hadn't thrown her much the first time and now it's almost familiar. Easy to overlook. Easy to do more than that, reaches forward to touch light, tips of her fingers, over the swell of muscle just above his hips. Prettier picture than most, really.
Leans back easy when he moves back to put his hands at her shirt again. And it's a slow stretch from her, bringing her foot higher, up to the hem of his coat, easier to move her hips like that, easier to bracket him in. Waits, languid and easy as he gets the last couple of buttons undone, hands resting at his side until he finishes and then she uses them to push his away. Shoulders her way out of her shirt and then slides her palms over her shoulders and down, long slow drag, to pull her bra the rest of the way off. All pale and much softer looking in the dim light of the cave than she normally is. Gentle swell of her breasts, and she doesn't hide from him as she brings her hands up to his neck, tucks her thumbs behind his jaw.]
I'm still hoping you ain't too much of a gentleman.
[Callouses on her thumbs and a smirk on her lips.]
Then it's buttons. Hers a lot less complicated than his small, intricate ones. Still, she's managing just fine, even as the muscles in her stomach jump with each slide of his knuckles, cool air coming in across her.
She opens her mouth, set to say something just as clever in return, but he's leaning away from her, hands off her stomach, shirt out from under her hands. Closes her mouth to watch him lean back and pulls the shirt over his shoulders, up over his head, not all that slow but it's a pretty show anyhow. Sight of him shirtless not enough to to shock her anymore. Hadn't thrown her much the first time and now it's almost familiar. Easy to overlook. Easy to do more than that, reaches forward to touch light, tips of her fingers, over the swell of muscle just above his hips. Prettier picture than most, really.
Leans back easy when he moves back to put his hands at her shirt again. And it's a slow stretch from her, bringing her foot higher, up to the hem of his coat, easier to move her hips like that, easier to bracket him in. Waits, languid and easy as he gets the last couple of buttons undone, hands resting at his side until he finishes and then she uses them to push his away. Shoulders her way out of her shirt and then slides her palms over her shoulders and down, long slow drag, to pull her bra the rest of the way off. All pale and much softer looking in the dim light of the cave than she normally is. Gentle swell of her breasts, and she doesn't hide from him as she brings her hands up to his neck, tucks her thumbs behind his jaw.]
I'm still hoping you ain't too much of a gentleman.
[Callouses on her thumbs and a smirk on her lips.]
[ And there is another difference between them he supposed. This is not new to him, it is not pleasant but there's a familiarity that doesn't make him baulk as hard as it seems to her. Firn purrs low in that whirring sound they all seem to make and Wade's own pet butting against his wrist looking for food probably, if he had to guess, they always were. Open little mouths, beady dark eyes. Hungry, hungry and finally he breaks from her gaze to look down at it. Sighing weary and pretends it because of its needy little sounds -- not for the weight between these words. ]
I think you know it makes all the difference, because you still might decide to leave me behind at an inopportune moment. [ Glances up heavy under his brows, hair still somehow managing to fall in his face, then back down again. ] Besides, you're being vague. Tell what you what, exactly? Tell you when I think I am going to go mad? Or when I am going to decide that no one is worth their life, and remove them from my path? What exactly is it that I am supposed to be saying to you that doesn't just damn me further in your eyes?
I think you know it makes all the difference, because you still might decide to leave me behind at an inopportune moment. [ Glances up heavy under his brows, hair still somehow managing to fall in his face, then back down again. ] Besides, you're being vague. Tell what you what, exactly? Tell you when I think I am going to go mad? Or when I am going to decide that no one is worth their life, and remove them from my path? What exactly is it that I am supposed to be saying to you that doesn't just damn me further in your eyes?
[ There's lash marks there, where her hands reach up and touch him. They're neat cuts, brought down at such a force that they split skin perfectly on the first blow. Her finger fit over them so well he cannot think for the low, low sound it brings out of him. All corded muscle that shivers and jumps at the touch and he swallows back as balls up his shirt and keeps it near by, just in case.
Goes so willingly back down to her. Plenty to do, after all, and as he shirt comes apart and she slowly peels it off him, there a heat to looking at her that he cannot help. All bright and sick need in his eyes, the dying and the damned, but he doesn't think she minds that on him, not at this point anyway.
He doesn't answer, not right away, too much to do to think. His palms settle on his knees and run flat up the inside of her thighs to push her legs that further apart to see between them comfortably. Settles there a solid weight, but doesn't pause, doesn't stop. Head down and there's a soft hum as his lowers again and curls over her, the fall of his hair brushing against her hair as he picks a point below that scar on her neck that he knows better than to touch and works his way down, shoulders hunched and tense as he drops kisses. Light at first, but gets the better of him or maybe he just likes the build up as he works down to her breast and his mouth closes over and tongue flicks over. Broad sweeps and deliberate heavy breath on damp skin in the cold of the cave. Glances up then, not quite so shy but more determined as he moved on again, to the flat little hollow between, the smooth press of bone that he would carve sweeping curving patterns into, then down again with a far more determined bite to the under side of her breast. ] Tell you a secret?
[ Down, down, down, pushes back on his knees, arm outstretched as he meanders in rough press of lips that pulls sucking red marks and more haphazard bites that scrap between the dip of bones. Her ribs, the edge of them where they dipped as she breathed in and out and then lower again. Inch by inch, all different kind of secrets then, till there's one below her belly button and he pulls the skin between his teeth in a way that he intended to mark at least for a little while. There, cradle of her hips, that's where he'll press his secret. ] Always was terribly bad at it. [ grins all brief and sure and pressed into skin. ]
Goes so willingly back down to her. Plenty to do, after all, and as he shirt comes apart and she slowly peels it off him, there a heat to looking at her that he cannot help. All bright and sick need in his eyes, the dying and the damned, but he doesn't think she minds that on him, not at this point anyway.
He doesn't answer, not right away, too much to do to think. His palms settle on his knees and run flat up the inside of her thighs to push her legs that further apart to see between them comfortably. Settles there a solid weight, but doesn't pause, doesn't stop. Head down and there's a soft hum as his lowers again and curls over her, the fall of his hair brushing against her hair as he picks a point below that scar on her neck that he knows better than to touch and works his way down, shoulders hunched and tense as he drops kisses. Light at first, but gets the better of him or maybe he just likes the build up as he works down to her breast and his mouth closes over and tongue flicks over. Broad sweeps and deliberate heavy breath on damp skin in the cold of the cave. Glances up then, not quite so shy but more determined as he moved on again, to the flat little hollow between, the smooth press of bone that he would carve sweeping curving patterns into, then down again with a far more determined bite to the under side of her breast. ] Tell you a secret?
[ Down, down, down, pushes back on his knees, arm outstretched as he meanders in rough press of lips that pulls sucking red marks and more haphazard bites that scrap between the dip of bones. Her ribs, the edge of them where they dipped as she breathed in and out and then lower again. Inch by inch, all different kind of secrets then, till there's one below her belly button and he pulls the skin between his teeth in a way that he intended to mark at least for a little while. There, cradle of her hips, that's where he'll press his secret. ] Always was terribly bad at it. [ grins all brief and sure and pressed into skin. ]
[Pardon her a moment, she has to laugh a little over this.]
FROM: zabi.mineva@cdc.org
Did Jasper or Wade tell you as much?
[Because she can't believe Terra ever would.]
FROM: zabi.mineva@cdc.org
Did Jasper or Wade tell you as much?
[Because she can't believe Terra ever would.]
FROM: zabi.mineva@cdc.org
I see. Did they say there was anything wrong with it?
I see. Did they say there was anything wrong with it?
FROM: zabi.mineva@cdc.org
That does sound like Terra. She simply wants to see you happy, after all.
That does sound like Terra. She simply wants to see you happy, after all.
FROM: zabi.mineva@cdc.org
I can sympathize with her thoughts on that matter. I would much rather see peace and those smiles than I would strife.
I can sympathize with her thoughts on that matter. I would much rather see peace and those smiles than I would strife.
from: attano.corvo@cdc.org
I am glad she can share them with someone.
[ it was not that he wished to be nonsupporting, it just that he was over protective, not a liar, but he never told her all of it. He did not want to be the one to ruin the world for her that way, he'd already done more than enough. Because of it, and all that had happened, he over compensated the other way. He tried to spare her as many details as he could.
Maybe Mineva might be a better influence than he was. Seemed to be more familiar from her tone, at least. ]
I am glad she can share them with someone.
[ it was not that he wished to be nonsupporting, it just that he was over protective, not a liar, but he never told her all of it. He did not want to be the one to ruin the world for her that way, he'd already done more than enough. Because of it, and all that had happened, he over compensated the other way. He tried to spare her as many details as he could.
Maybe Mineva might be a better influence than he was. Seemed to be more familiar from her tone, at least. ]
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