Leave a comment

*CLING* [;___;] destroytheother July 21 2010, 01:39:04 UTC
He notes the exhaustion. Josef may be starting to lose count of the people he inflicts his Calling on, but there will never be a detail that goes amiss when it comes to her. He catalogs each and every one in his mind. There are different levels of exhaustion, and considering the occasion it could be worse.

It still isn't something that lets the tightening in his chest subside, and he won't feel better about it until she's finally gotten rest. Even if he knows sleep will be hard to come by. Josef's back to being quiet, it's not like that time at the bar when the words spilled forth and he couldn't stop them.

He doesn't have words this time, and more surprising, neither doe she. The silence isn't something that's awkward. It's fitting, in a way. There's nothing to explain when it's all understood in one way or another.

They both know where this will all end. They both know that they can't expect more of what they've already been given. He is what he is and she is who she is and that won't change. They'll never change and they don't want to. She's proud of the angel and he's decided on the demon and that's that.

Except there's more. There's always been more, and maybe he just hadn't been made aware of it. There's more to Josef than the demon. The demon is nowhere to be found in this bathroom.

It's nowhere to be found in their bedroom, which he leads her to, while helping shed her of her clothes. His fingers are warm but they're careful, and he slips the shirt over her head and doesn't watch it fall back to the ground.

Josef hugs her to him, bare that she is, and for once makes no crack. No innuendo. There isn't the deviousness there might be otherwise.

He isn't a hobag at all as he normally would be in her state of undress. He presses a kiss to the side of her face, a hand sliding up her naked back. He knows every part of her body now. Knows it better than he knows his own.

Josef looks down as she looks up, and her face makes his chest constrict again. "Of course you can," he says, stepping back only to retrieve a shirt for her. It's a faded gray sweatshirt, but it's one of his favorites. It's older than he is, he thinks, he can't recall that either.

Things are lost in the newer spaces of time.

Josef helps put the shirt on, lets it slide back down her body. It dwarfs her whole, and something about that makes him smile. "There's mac and cheese in the oven. I'll go get it for you. Can't say I never was a gentleman."

It's teasing, the latter part, and he's gone before she can answer.

Reply

[ ;____; ] *clings back* pplrunincircles July 21 2010, 03:45:36 UTC
Elizabeth doesn't have words at all. None come to mind as she closes her eyes, loses herself to the feel of his hands against her skin as he pulls the clothes from her too. She's too tired to think of sex even, to let the touch of his hands fill her with anything other than warmth, love, and safety, which is what she needs now, in the face of all that cold, in the frozen weight pressing deep within her chest.

He hugs her, and she slips her arms around him too, resting her head against him and closing her eyes. For a moment, everything hurts, hands and chest and head and heart and every bone and every muscle, and then the hurt fades too like the embrace is healing it all. And maybe it is. She slips her hands away and smiles when he tells her that she can. She didn't think he'd say no, but. She had to ask. It was necessary to ask instead of just taking. She doesn't know why, but he said that she could so it doesn't matter. She doesn't question why she acts a certain way or feels a certain way sometimes. Emotions are impossible for her to explain, as impossible as that calling, despite the fact that she's been working on understanding them better in therapy. The understanding hasn't really come.

Elizabeth drowns in the sweatshirt, and it's a good drowning. Her hands don't even come out of the sleeves, because her arms are so much shorter than his. The collar sits low on her chest, and she sinks back on to the bed, pulling her knees up against her chest under the sweatshirt.

He's gone before she can answer him, but she rests her chin on her knees. Her arms, covered by the sleeves, are wrapped around her legs. She closes her eyes, breathing in the smell of the sweatshirt, the fabric, the him in it.

Memories float through her head. They're not all of the dead and the dying. She wants to write... She wants to write down all the names, all the details that she remembers about those whose names she never knew. It's something to do later. It's something to do when her mind and body catch up with one another, when she's done just existing and wants to do again.

Her hair falls in front of her face which is buried against her knees. It's not until he comes back that she lifts it up again and even smiles. There still aren't any words at all, and she wants them but it's nothing. There's nothing at first. And then there is but it takes longer than it should, and she smiles a little more.

"You are a gentleman."

Reply

destroytheother July 21 2010, 04:26:46 UTC
Josef doesn't lose the calmness, not in his features and not in his movements, until he's out the door. It's only then he stops, in the middle of the hallway, at somewhat of a loss. He turns back a fraction, staring at the open doorway, feeling heavier than he did an hour ago. Two hours ago.

There are many things he's perfectly adept at handling and these has never been one of them. Caring for someone's well-being over his own. Wanting to make it better and knowing this is only a temporary fix. Because she won't stop and he can't stop, either. Because a hundred deaths for her will turn into two hundred, and those will turn into however many she can take before--

And that's that, isn't it?

The elastic band will only go for so long before they snap.

One day they will. The when of it is irrelevant. She thought it'd be today. Today she is saved, but--Josef shakes his head, keeps moving, walks over to the kitchen. The bowl of mac and cheese is warm enough to eat in the microwave. The Orange Soda she favors above any other drink is in the refrigerator, cold and ready.

Josef places both things down on the counter, flattening his hands against the marble. He covers his face with his hand, which is, infuriatingly enough, not very steady. He waits until it is steady to pick the food and the beverage up to take it back to her.

"I am, I am pleased you see it, too." He smiles back, without very much feeling like it at first. It comes more naturally seconds later, sitting down next to her on the bed. He places the food in front of her. She only has to eat what she can manage but it's--it's the only thing he can think of to do right now.

"You want to watch a movie? Think we still got some from the day we all but rented out the whole store."

Reply

pplrunincircles July 21 2010, 04:58:33 UTC
Elizabeth notices the lack of feeling that first time that he smiles. She can't really blame him for it. They both got whacked in the head (for lack of better terms) with the truth that they already knew, but now it's here. Now it's at the forefront of this, and it can't be shoved to the side. They may embrace their callings, but that means snapping. Someday.

It means there will be a time when it's too much, and she hopes she dies before that happens. She doesn't want to lose her mind. She doesn't want him to lose his either. But someone has to lose their mind first. Someone has to die first, and it's not fair.

She spent so long-- She spent so much time unable to understand why angels of death never last very long, why she's never met another one, why people were surprised that someone like her could be one. She used to get offended by it. She used to feel like maybe people thought someone like her was wrong for the part.

But now she understands.

She gets it.

And a small part of her wishes she didn't.

He once told her that the problem with questions is they have answers. Ignorance is bliss. And she understands that now too.

Elizabeth leans against him when he sits down beside her. She buries her face against his arm, breathing in that scene too. She breathes and then breathes again before she pulls back, turning her face up to him to smile again as reassuringly as she can, though her throat is tightening. It may be too tight for her to swallow.

"Thank you."

She piles noodles together in the bowl, takes in a deep breath, tries to remember how to eat, and tries not to cry for God's sake.

Her chest feels like it's on fire. Don't think too far ahead. Don't worry about the future and what you can't control. She tries to fight it back, pressing her teeth into her lip, focusing on that pain instead.

"Yeah, we should watch... like... The Godfather now that I'm actually paying attention," she says. "Cause I think you may have distracted me a bit. Last time."

Reply

destroytheother July 21 2010, 05:14:40 UTC
Josef's met a few other Temes. They can only feed on fear so long before it takes them over. They need it, and then it's what's used against them. Some might say that's poetic justice in the end, he doesn't know.

He does know one day his head will break with the sounds of the dying caused by his hand. The screams and the names and the begging will all lace together until it forms a knot in his head and doesn't let go.

Josef has always known.

Deep down, it's what's motivated so many of his decisions.

Go home, Elizabeth.

Part of him wishes he'd insisted more often, shown the uglier sides of him more often so maybe she'd listened. It isn't often he wishes this anymore, just when he remembers what they've got to lose and he grows cowardly at the prospect.

For the most part, he's no longer the coward that doesn't want anything real. He's here, and he doesn't plan to leave her, couldn't no matter what happens. No matter where this ends up.

There's the cutting realization she has to fight back the urge to cry, and his own chest feels like it's on fire.

He sits up, back supported by the headboard, pulling her toward him. His lips rest against the crown of her hair, breathing her in, too. I love you, he says with it. And God, he does.

Josef smiles against the red strands slightly at the mention of the Godfather. "I believe we were mutually distracting each other," he says lightly.

"I can play the theme song on the piano," he says, almost absently. "It used to be my father's favorite. You'll see."

And she will. He presses play and then he goes back to sit where he was, a hand around her waist to pull her closer. He doesn't really plan to see the movie. He'll keep talking to her if it soothes her. Anything to just...make it better.

He has to make it better.

Reply

pplrunincircles July 21 2010, 05:54:17 UTC
Elizabeth would rather risk losing him first than never having him at all. She'd rather risk the insanity that would drive her to than to never have met him to begin with. There are never moments where she wishes that she'd left when he told her to. There are moments where she wishes she'd die first, but they are few and far between.

His life has been more difficult than hers, and when he does die, she wants-- she needs to help him through that, whatever the cost. She can't imagine she'd live long afterwards anyway, but she is terrified of when it comes, terrified of whose band will snap first, and terrified of him dying.

The fear isn't hitting her as much as the worry, as much as the pain and the grief for something that hasn't happened yet. Elizabeth isn't used to worrying so much about the future, but she feels like losing her mind, like him losing his mind-- it feels like there should be tears over it, and she'll be gone or he'll be gone and she won't get to--

Josef pulls her close, and she shuts her eyes, tears slipping down her face, bowl of macaroni and cheese in her lap. Elizabeth hears what he says in that movement, and she makes a soft noise. She can't help it. It's that grief that's hitting her, tearing into her heart.

She eats a bite of the mac and cheese, and the bites mix with the tears that keep slipping down, and her chest still feels like it's on fire, burning away. She keeps her head down, hair in front of her face, sticking to her cheeks a little.

"Well, you're very distracting... in general," Elizabeth says back, forcing the lightness because she needs it and she craves it and she doesn't want to linger on what can't be changed. "And I never try to be distracting... it just happens when you get all distracty."

And she smiles when he mentions his father, because she can count on her hands how many times that he has. She always likes to hear those little details, and she'll remember them. She'll remember them as well as she remembers those names, far past when the band snaps, far past everything. She doesn't hope it, but she knows. She knows that he will remain in her heart and mine, even when the rest is gone.

"I bet you could play any song on the piano," she says, but she wants to listen if it's his father's favorite. If it used to be.

Reply

destroytheother July 21 2010, 06:09:27 UTC
She can't be sure he'll die before her. Josef isn't as emotionally strong as she is. He's never had the opportunity to build any sort of strength when it comes to what you feel when you love somebody. If she snaps first, if she dies first--he already knows what would happen.

It's something he's also come to terms with. It's not like it hit him recently or something he didn't think of the moment he got involved with her.

Josef studies all angles. He dissects every possible outcome.

Even with the studying and the dissecting, it's not like he'll be prepared, but he never once walked into any of this blind.

"Sometimes," he allows, and it isn't with cocky intent that he agrees. Josef's got a good ear. He can figure out how to play a song after having just heard it once. It's all mechanics. It's all a chess board of its own, in an entirely different way. "It's easy when you play by ear."

That he actually puts feeling to it, well--that's another thing entirely.

Josef's thumb wipes at her cheeks again. He's not fooled by the hair, Elizabeth. He knows you're crying and he's trying very hard not to act like it makes it hard to breathe. The room is stifling, for a moment, and the air doesn't come easily. "Elizabeth," he says, pulling her closer.

If she wants to cry, she should cry. Let it all out. It's not like he'll think any less of her. She's still the strong, beautiful Elizabeth he's come to know.

This isn't about him, though. There've been times when she's placed aside so much of herself to give him what he needs. He can do that, too. It might not come as easily, he's not the type of person she is, but he can.

"Do you have a favorite song?" he asks, fingers spearing into her hair. He plays with the strands, the television only a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds he doesn't distinguish.

He isn't paying attention again.

Reply

pplrunincircles July 21 2010, 07:33:33 UTC
Elizabeth knows that she can't be sure of that. It's part of what's so scary about the future. She knew-- She knew going in that there was no way that it could end well, that it would end in death if nothing else. She's never fully understood however the gravity of what that means until she thought she'd lost him at the park, until she felt the bending of her mind like never before at death number one hundred.

Up until this point, it was something she knew but didn't understand.

She understands it now. She understands what insanity means now.

She understands it and that's what's hitting her, simply trying to grapple with the truth of it, with the understanding of what that all really means.

There's nothing that she would change about her decisions. She doesn't wish that she'd pulled back, that she'd left any of those one hundred people to elongate this process, to make this last longer.

"I never got what that meant," Elizabeth says, eating another bite of her macaroni and cheese. "Playing by ear, but I've never really..." She wrinkles her nose thoughtfully. "I mean I'm not musically inclined like that. I like to sing, but..."

She closes her eyes when he says her name. Elizabeth knows why he's saying it. She takes in a deep breath, pulling the hair behind her shoulders and resting her face against his chest again. It's not that she doesn't want him to see her crying. She just-- She doesn't want to be crying at all, but she can't stop it.

Like so many other things. Her throat tightens and she rests her damp face on his chest again, listening to him breathe, feeling that heartbeat, reminding herself that it's there. He's there. Their minds are still intact. They're still here beside one another.

Elizabeth swallows thickly and has another bite from her fork. "This is really good mac and cheese," she says, instead of saying what she could say, what he already knows anyway, instead of crying as hard as some part of her is on the verge of.

She nods at the question, finally turning her head to look at him. For a second, her chest eases. The pain in it fades. She's with him. He's warm against her, her body resting against his, and she feels safe. Whatever happens in the future, this moment is safe, and she allows it to comfort her, to distract her from that grief.

"My Granny used to sing to me... like sing me to sleep, I mean. Probably until way past the age that any kid should get a lullaby, but... the song she sang to me. It's still my favorite. It makes me feel better whenever I hear it, no matter what." Elizabeth rests her head on his chest again and sings a few verses. Her voice is hoarse, trembling a little. The emotion remains in each word. "Say nighty-night and kiss me, just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me. While I'm alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me."

Reply

destroytheother July 21 2010, 16:34:01 UTC
"You can play by ear or you can play by strictly following a music sheet," Josef explains. It's something that he can explain, that he understands in all its intricacies and levels, and he latches on to the opportunity. "Learning how to read the piano notes is important, but sometimes if you have a good ear, you can work out how to play a song just by listening to it."

He always did change certain arrangements when he felt like it, never liked being constrained to a music sheet when he just wanted to play, and play how he felt like playing. It was never about being the best. It was about allowing himself control where he could find it.

His hands are long, not necessarily pianist hands, but they're long enough to reach the ivory keys.

They're playing with Elizabeth's hair now, his hands, and he goes over the keys in his mind. His fingers tangle into long, red strands and it calms him, soothes him enough so he can proceed.

There's a lull after he's said her name out loud. A lull that isn't particularly quiet, and he awaits the overflow she's been trying to hold inside till now. It hurts, like he never thought it could, hearing her cry. Tears have always unmoved him, Sarah of all people would know, and now they feel like tiny splinters throughout his skin.

It doesn't show. Josef remains motionless, save for his hand as it moves through her hair, his other hand drawing her to him by the waist. If she can let it all out, the grief that he doesn't fully understand, maybe it'll help. Empty one's self from the inside out from what's weighing them down.

He smiles a smile that carries no amusement when she compliments the mac and cheese. It's something so very Elizabeth, but it brings him no humor the way it would any other day of the week. "I'm glad you approve," he says, wiping at her cheeks again until they're no longer wet. "You don't have to eat more if you're not hungry."

Josef's face isn't impassive, but it isn't filled with the emotion she's displaying. He's seemingly serene, and the smile shifts into something uncharacteristically gentle as she looks p at him. Finally looks up, and he reminds himself not to flinch. The way she looks right now, he won't be forgetting it.

There isn't anything that he does forget when it matters. Dates, names, moments, the way a face can look when it's bogged down by grief. His own personal little souvenirs.

He shifts back to his original position again, pulling her to his chest. Her singing is beautiful, and he's always thought so. He first heard her sing outside a cathedral. She was sitting on the steps, praying for his sins. Something about that still makes his chest tighten.

Briefly, she wonders if she still goes with that intent. Briefly, because it doesn't matter if it helps her.

"It's a beautiful song," he says once she's done, pressing a kiss to her forehead with warm lips. "I'll play it for you tomorrow."

Reply

pplrunincircles July 22 2010, 00:48:23 UTC
"Oh, wow, that's pretty awesome that you can like do that and stuff. It sounds like how The Man would play the piano, no need for the sheet music, the song comes out your fingers," Elizabeth says, happy enough for the normality of having something explained to her that she's starting to ramble ridiculousness again. Even if the tone of her voice is subdued, tired, stretched out.

There's so much that he's explained to her. In many cases, she forgets what is explained to her. She can't hold on to it or focus on what's being said long enough for it to count. When they started off their relationship, he was explaining chess to her.

It feels right that there are still things he has to explain and she has to learn, even if their relationship has developed from teacher to student to being so much more than that.

She closes her eyes, focusing on the feel of his fingers in her hair. It's relaxing to her. It's unwinding the tense knots within her that cropped up in a painful, persistent way, twisting around her heart. It relaxes, and it's easier to breathe.

Easier to breathe, as the tears fall forward, faster and harder. It's not loud at all. It's quiet in its grief. Her shoulders heave, and she trembles in his arms. Her chest stings like there are dozens of wasps caged in her ribs. Over and over and over. She presses her face against him, getting his shirt wet in the process.

It's the first time that she'll grieve over what they'll lose together but it won't be the last.

It won't be the last.

"I totally approve. Seal of approval and all that," Elizabeth says with a weak, wobbly smile though she's looking into her bowl and not at him. She doesn't know if she's hungry or not. There's still that feeling in her chest, and she can't feel anything else.

Her body is heavy, and she doesn't understand what she's feeling or what she needs, but she knows that she only wants to be here with him, nowhere else in the world.

She plays with the noodles, remembering that she has a drink. Elizabeth sits forward, picks it up, sets it on her lap... and then realizes what kind it is. "Hey, you got my favorite," she exlaims, which isn't surprising that he knows or remembers which is her favorite.

Elizabeth doesn't remember if she told him or not. She can remember everything he says to her, but not what she says to him. She probably told him... or she probably just tends to get orange soda more than any other.

It's that look on his face when she turns to him that makes it feel like her heart's stopped, for just a second. And she smiles. She tries to smile but it's hard again, and she sucks in a heavy, painful breath. The wasps are still buzzing around.

She rests her face against his chest when he shifts.

"Really?" The reallys come automatically, and she wrinkles her nose because she always asks him really, even when she knows that he means everything that he says. "I mean, I know you will. Thanks. I'd like that. A lot. I like listening to you play."

Her hand rests against his chest, and she traces lines there, draws things with her fingers.

"You know I met a real angel... I mean, a biblical angel. He came through the Rift."

Reply

destroytheother July 22 2010, 01:51:37 UTC
Josef laughs quietly into her head, tugging on a strand playfully. "A lot of people can do it. If you're acquainted enough with all the piano notes, you can start hearing the tune in your head." It isn't as easy to explain as he thought it would be, but he's more than happy to actually try. There is some normality to it, and at that thought, he decides something he'll execute later on at the end of this tag. Ahem.

He doesn't mind his shirt is wet.

He doesn't mind that she keeps crying.

There's no fear in her grief, nothing that he'd even be remotely tempted to use. Even if she was terrified, he's proven that he wouldn't be able to. What he feels for her, with the demon aside, has been stronger. It's what kept him moving that day at the fair, tornado gripping everyone in tight panic, so strongly that it filled his nostrils and all but overpowered his body.

He never once stoped moving.

Whether she eats more or not, he waits for her to decide. He wanted to try and prod her into eating a little, which she already did. Once she falls asleep, she'll feel better. He has to believe this. The day that they're dreading hasn't come yet. There's time. There has to be because there are so many things he wants for them, and yeah, he's never counted on the fairness of the world and he's not going to fucking start now but--it's owed to them.

A little more fucking time.

He smiles again, subdued but earnest. "Of course I did," Josef says, an almost haughty expression in his face. "I notice everything, didn't I once tell you that?" She might not remember he said it but he has. And no, she didn't explicitly tell him that Orange Soda is her favorite but she doesn't have to. The devil's in the details and Josef would know plenty of both.

It's what she drinks most, and it wouldn't be a far fetched assumption it's her favorite.

Making up his mind, he shifts again. He's sorry he keeps moving, but until he does something to take the itch out of his skin, he's going to be restless.

Tired thought she may be, he's going to lead her to the piano bench. She can lean on him again while his fingers repose thoughtfully over the ivory keys. He thinks back to only moments before when she sang the song, and then after a few moments, certain trials and errors, he finds a suitable arrangement for the lullaby.

"What was he like?" Josef asks, while he goes over the notes again, brows furrowed in their intent--but he's listening to her, too.

"The angel. What was he like?"

Josef's read the Bible the way one would read a piece of fiction, because the devil is, after all, in the details, both the ones you believe and the ones you don't.

Reply

pplrunincircles July 22 2010, 03:44:06 UTC
Elizabeth doesn't respond to that. She simply smiles a little, offhandedly as she stares at her knees, which have slipped out from under the sweat shirt and are tangled up with his. It still seems like something that The Man would pull off automatically, because he is The Man. Other people can do it, but he's given it cause he is The Man. Josef. It doesn't make any sense, the argument, so she doesn't really say it.

She breathes against him, remains there pressed close to his body. The tears stop and slow. Her body doesn't shake anymore. A sizable chunk of the macaroni and cheese is gone from the bowl, and she even drinks a few gulps from the soda too. Her fingers tap against the outside of the can, and she focuses on the sound of it.

Tap, tap, tap.

It echoes. It echoes until it rattles in her head, and she just keeps tapping. Like a heartbeat. Tap. Tap. Tap. And stop. Like every heartbeat.

It's not time yet, no. There's some precarious kind of balance, but she'd know when she's lost it. It's not yet. She still feels Elizabeth there, within the stinging, still feels the angel hovering in her mind like never before. Right there. Gone but not quite. Gone but aware of how much death remains waiting out on the streets, reminding her still. It's harder to shake it. There's no denying that. It's harder to forget for even a second.

Elizabeth shuts her eyes and wills the angel to leave, to quiet, but nothing happens.

"Yes, you told me," she confirms with a nod against him. She remembers everything that he says, even something like that. "And even if you didn't, I could tell that you see all that stuff. I dunno. I don't usually notice stuff, but I notice... you. I still get surprised at things I already knew. I dunno how. I think I forget that I knew it, and then I'm just like... surprised and then I remember that I already knew... that."

She has another drink of the orange soda. There's the focusing on how it bubbles in her mouth, how it slides down her throat and feels refreshing like nothing else does. She likes the tangy taste of it. She likes--

It's easy to focus on little details that require no brain power. She can count every breath he takes. She can feel out every muscle from this side of the shirt.

Josef takes her to the piano bench, and she goes willingly. She is exhausted, but she can't sleep and she doesn't want to be apart from him. Wherever he goes, she wants to follow, even if she's just attached to his back. Elizabeth does lean against him, counts how many times he hits a certain key, but she keeps losing focus on that one key and losing count.

In the end, she doesn't do that. She just watches his fingers move so gracefully across the keys.

"I don't know really," Elizabeth says with a thoughtful frown, head resting against his arm. "He didn't understand why getting hit in the face with a pie is funny, and he... he didn't really look like he had any emotions, but he talked about faith. I liked that."

Reply

destroytheother July 22 2010, 04:39:09 UTC
Tap, tap, tap. He forces away an eye twitch, forces his hand not to curl into a fist. Tap, tap, t--

Josef wants to grab her hands, stop the sound she's making, something in the constant tapping threatening to make something within him burst. He stifles it down violently, scratching the surface of his jaw with a heavy sigh.

"You don't need to notice all that stuff. You notice what matters. It's fine."

Part of him doesn't know how he can remain so quiet when something inside of him is screaming.

Josef nods, trying for a tiny smile, one of his tiny smiles, the one he's given her countless of times but he can't. It doesn't come. He can feel how faraway she is right now, however small that sliver may be. However short that inch may be, it's an inch closer to the elastic band, and he can't--seeing her like this does something to him that he can't physically manifest.

"I'm sure you appreciated talking to someone about faith."

A biblical angel when she actually believes in God. How she can believe in any deity with the fucked up crap they were shoved their way, he'll never understand.

He doesn't want to. He doesn't need to be in anyone's good side. He doesn't even need to be on the bad side.

Josef's on his side and that's always been enough. The anger, the frustration, the sheer helplessness, it's all shoved away. Violently. Until he's choking with it.

Once he's done with the song, he picks her up and carries her back to the bed. He deposits her gently on the cotton sheets, covering her up so that she knows it's time to at least try to sleep. He's not going to move from his spot till after she's drifted off.

It's only then he'll amble towards the hallway, slip down against the wall, and bury his face in his hands. He'll take a deep breath, that does nothing to take away the empty feeling in his chest, and slowly he rises back up again. He doesn't know why. He wants to remain sitting.

He goes back to join her and pretends to sleep.

And he waits for the morning to break.

Reply

pplrunincircles July 22 2010, 05:29:08 UTC
Elizabeth is hardly aware that she's doing the tapping. The sound resonates in her head, and she shivers and she doesn't notice that either. Her shoulder tenses, and eventually, the can is set aside, forgotten about. Her finger starts tapping her leg instead.

"I did," she confirms and nods, ducking her head to look more closely at the keys. "Even if I didn't understand what he meant."

It's not like she has to understand something to enjoy talking about it or enjoy listening to someone talk about it. It's like the piano. It's like playing by ear, and it takes her a moment to realize that's what he's doing. It takes her that long to recognize the song. Her focus had been on the movements, not the sound.

And when she realizes what it is, she smiles, weak and distant but more herself than maybe any smile she's given tonight. The song has meaning for her. It is comforting to hear him play it. It's special to her to hear Josef play the song that meant so much to her when she was young.

As he continues to play, she hums along to the melody and then into the words, a whisper along with the sound of the piano. "Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper I love you, birds singing in the sycamore tree, dream a little dream of... me"

He picks her up and puts her to bed, and she doesn't argue that either, though she doesn't know that she can sleep. Her hands remain in front of her face when she's set on to the bed, and she stares at the scars, counts them out, counts the sound of his breathing again.

At first, she doesn't move at all and then she curls up in the sheets, hiding her face in the pillow. She doesn't know that she's crying again, but the fabric under her head is damp. It takes a long, long time for her to sleep, even with how exhausted she feels. Even with that song still playing endlessly in her head. A lullaby she can't get rid of.

Say nighty-night and kiss me. Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me. While I'm alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me.

Sweet dreams until sunbeams find you. Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you.

At some point, she sleeps. When she sleeps, she dreams but she won't remember what she dreamed of in the morning. It doesn't matter. A dream is only a dream. In the morning, it's gone. As all things are, there comes a time to be gone.

When she wakes, it's slow. It's not long after she slept, but she's definitely slept. She shifts in the bed, covers over her face. Her head feels clearer like the cotton was pulled out from it. She presses a hand into her hair and against her head and closes her eyes. It takes a second before she remembers who she is, and his name is the first thing out of her mouth.

"Josef?"

Reply

sorry for typos ;_; destroytheother July 22 2010, 17:17:40 UTC
He doesn't see that smile. He doesn't even realize that she is now becoming aware of the song he's playing until she starts singing it. He keeps playing with his right hand, the other rubbing up and down her arm as she leans against him. He doesn't want to play anymore. It was a bad idea. It isn't working. He feels sick to his stomach somehow.

But this isn't about him. It's that reminder that keeps him playing. It keeps him playing until he feels she's all but gonna pass out from exhaustion, whether her mind is still racing or not. Her body demands the rest and she needs it.

A hundred people. A hundred deaths. All of which she's taken on. She's so small.

Josef doesn't sleep.

He doesn't toss and turn and find himself restless in the middle of the night.

He only remains still, staring up at the ceiling, wondering if this is a different sort of madness altogether. Visuali-ng every possible outcome as if it's already waiting for them in the next corner. It's ridiculous, and he can't stop himself, like the masochist playing a film in his head repeatedly until something inside starts to bleed.

Whenever she starts to cry in her sleep, he embraces her from behind until she stops. When he thinks he might slowly lose what cool remains, he remembers the soft sound of her voice singing the lullaby.

He plays it over, and over, and over again in his mind. He needs to stop thinking. He needs to be as exhausted as she is. There's a part of him begging itself to stand up, to walk out of the apartment, to find the nearest embodiment of panic and carve it inside out. It's strong enough he nearly chokes on it.

He just can't leave her. He never could. It keeps him immobile in his spot, a quiet agony that he ignores. Or welcomes. He isn't sure anymore. The sun comes up and he hasn't slept a wink. It is not the first time and won't be the last, so it's truly impossible to notice the difference. He hears his name, and at first it is distant and faraway.

Once he realizes she's woken up, he shifts to the side, facing her fully. "I'm right here." He props the side of his face with a hand, looking down at her. He brushes the tips of his fingers down the side of her face, past her neck.

"How are you feeling?"

Reply

;__; ffff. your internets need to be fixed. ._. <33 pplrunincircles July 22 2010, 19:15:09 UTC
Elizabeth opens her eyes when she hears his voice. If she'd never heard it, maybe she would have gone back to sleep. She doesn't know, and it doesn't matter because he's there, talking to her. She opens her eyes and sees him, and it's a slow, heavy moment that passes before she smiles. It's tired and a little sad but it's her.

"Better," she says, and the truth of it hits like how water wakes a person from sleeping. She's starting to realize how different she'd been last night, how her mind had been... all weird. It's that bending to a near snap, not quite there yet but close. Closer than it's ever been before.

She frowns then, and it's apologetic, helplessly so. There's nothing that can be done to stop it, and she has never been more aware of the inevitable insanity that awaits anyone who embraces their calling than she at this moment, lying beside him in the aftermath... in the aftermath of that.

Elizabeth sits up from the pillow, and leans over to kiss him, lingering against heated lips. She feels weirdly shy with the knowledge of how she was and that he saw that. The slipping. The way the cracks open, and there's nothing to hold on to, and bits of herself slip through the openings. Her gaze drops, and she swallows. "I'm feeling much better."

She still doesn't feel a hundred percent. She doesn't feel like she did before last night, but she's-- It would be silly to think that she could be back to normal, at least so soon. Something has definitely shifted still, and the shift may be permanent. It's too soon to tell.

It takes her moment to to meet his gaze again, and her hands are working around each other. "Thank you for staying with me."

He doesn't need the thanks and she knows that, but she wants to give it to him anyway. She wants to say something, because she knows last night wasn't easy. It's never really easy with them, but last night... Last night was really hard, and she's figuring that out.

She's figuring out that there will be more nights like that.

More nights until the very last, how ever it happens. There's no telling exactly, but it will. And her hands wrap around the sheets, and she looks at him again. Because she knows and he knows, and she can't help but say it.

"Last night was hard, huh?"

And she doesn't mean for only her. She means for him. She means for both of them. If she thinks hard enough, she can remember the sound of his voice in the bathroom. She remembers him playing the song for her. She knows that he was aware of what was happening with her, and she knows what that would do to her if their positions were reversed.

Last night was hard is putting it lightly.

Reply


Leave a comment

Up