(no subject)
Come into these arms again
And lay your body down
Melaka's beautiful when she sleeps.
The rhythm of this trembling heart
Is beating like a drum
Of course, Harth thinks she's beautiful when she's awake, but there's something special about her asleep. When she's awake, the Slayer is curt, rude, and capable. She leads him as if he doesn't know the way, fights as if she has something to prove, and is quick to employ her sharp tongue. All part of her special charms, and he wouldn't have her any other way.
It beats for you, it bleeds for you
It knows not how it sounds
But when she's asleep, she's vulnerable. And she knows this. When she first found him - when they first joined forces to try and get home - she had tried to sleep as little as possible, and at a distance from him, watching him warily until she could know longer keep her eyes open.
For it is the drum of drums
It is the song of songs
But he had proved that he wouldn't touch her, and even though teamwork was never his sister's strong point, she couldn't argue with his reasoning that it's safer for them to sleep in turns, one watching for danger, and in as discreet a hiding place as possible.
Once I had the fairest rose
That ever deemed to bloom
So that's how she conceded to be lying like this: curled up in a tiny hidden cave, with her head on his lap, head lolling back ungracefully, and snoring gently as he keeps watch. Right now, he could do anything he wanted to her, if he didn't need her alive to get home. Or to the bar, at least.
Cruel winter chilled the bud
And stole my flower too soon
Mel's hands and ankles are wrapped around her weapon. She couldn't be more protective of it if she could feel the power that Harth feels when he strokes it softly with his cold fingers. She couldn't possibly know what it is to hold this and know that it's hers, that it's right, and that it belongs in her hands. Harth knows exactly what this is like to feel all that, as strongly as he knows it's wrong.
Oh loneliness, oh hopelessness
To search the ends of time
Silently, gently, his fingers shift and brush the delicate amulet sitting in the hollow of his twin's throat. She doesn't know what this feels like, either. Doesn't know that it matches the scythe so perfectly, despite having been manufactured so many centuries afterwards. Doesn't know the perfect feeling of safety and security, the comfort and grounding that compliments so exactly the strength and power of the scythe.
For there is in all the world
No greater love than mine
She had thought it just an amulet until he told her what it was doing to the barriers between the dimensions. Maybe even now, she doesn’t know how important it is. Yet she defends it with her life. Would kill him without a thought if he tried to take it. Beautiful Melaka: so headstrong, so dutiful, so rutting stupid in some ways. He has to admire it.
Still falls the rain, still falls the night,
Be damned forever
Her hot throat spasms under his fingers as she snorts and shifts in her sleep, eyelids flickering in REM. Harth doesn't need to guess what she's dreaming about: he's heard her mutter in her sleep enough times to know that he is no longer the object of her subconscious.
Let me be the only one
To keep you from the cold
He wonders, briefly, if he should be jealous of the man who's taken his place, but dismisses the notion. The turtle can be in her
dreams for all Harth cares. They've merely swapped places, and Harth likes being the one she sees when she wakes up. He loves seeing that look in her eyes as she emerges from her sweet dreams and remembers where she is and who with. That fleeting moment before she remembers not to care. For that, he'll allow her as many dreams of her ex-lover as she wants.
Now the floor of Hell is laid
With stars of brightest gold
Sure, she wants to go home, and to be honest, so does Harth. Hell can be boring, after all, even if she's here with him, but who knows what will have happened in their extended absence? For all they know, her lover might have moved on, and won't that be delicious?
They shine for you, they shine for you
They burn for all to see
Right now, he's the only friend she has. And no one could ever love her more.
Come into these arms again
And set this spirit free
And lay your body down
Melaka's beautiful when she sleeps.
The rhythm of this trembling heart
Is beating like a drum
Of course, Harth thinks she's beautiful when she's awake, but there's something special about her asleep. When she's awake, the Slayer is curt, rude, and capable. She leads him as if he doesn't know the way, fights as if she has something to prove, and is quick to employ her sharp tongue. All part of her special charms, and he wouldn't have her any other way.
It beats for you, it bleeds for you
It knows not how it sounds
But when she's asleep, she's vulnerable. And she knows this. When she first found him - when they first joined forces to try and get home - she had tried to sleep as little as possible, and at a distance from him, watching him warily until she could know longer keep her eyes open.
For it is the drum of drums
It is the song of songs
But he had proved that he wouldn't touch her, and even though teamwork was never his sister's strong point, she couldn't argue with his reasoning that it's safer for them to sleep in turns, one watching for danger, and in as discreet a hiding place as possible.
Once I had the fairest rose
That ever deemed to bloom
So that's how she conceded to be lying like this: curled up in a tiny hidden cave, with her head on his lap, head lolling back ungracefully, and snoring gently as he keeps watch. Right now, he could do anything he wanted to her, if he didn't need her alive to get home. Or to the bar, at least.
Cruel winter chilled the bud
And stole my flower too soon
Mel's hands and ankles are wrapped around her weapon. She couldn't be more protective of it if she could feel the power that Harth feels when he strokes it softly with his cold fingers. She couldn't possibly know what it is to hold this and know that it's hers, that it's right, and that it belongs in her hands. Harth knows exactly what this is like to feel all that, as strongly as he knows it's wrong.
Oh loneliness, oh hopelessness
To search the ends of time
Silently, gently, his fingers shift and brush the delicate amulet sitting in the hollow of his twin's throat. She doesn't know what this feels like, either. Doesn't know that it matches the scythe so perfectly, despite having been manufactured so many centuries afterwards. Doesn't know the perfect feeling of safety and security, the comfort and grounding that compliments so exactly the strength and power of the scythe.
For there is in all the world
No greater love than mine
She had thought it just an amulet until he told her what it was doing to the barriers between the dimensions. Maybe even now, she doesn’t know how important it is. Yet she defends it with her life. Would kill him without a thought if he tried to take it. Beautiful Melaka: so headstrong, so dutiful, so rutting stupid in some ways. He has to admire it.
Still falls the rain, still falls the night,
Be damned forever
Her hot throat spasms under his fingers as she snorts and shifts in her sleep, eyelids flickering in REM. Harth doesn't need to guess what she's dreaming about: he's heard her mutter in her sleep enough times to know that he is no longer the object of her subconscious.
Let me be the only one
To keep you from the cold
He wonders, briefly, if he should be jealous of the man who's taken his place, but dismisses the notion. The turtle can be in her
dreams for all Harth cares. They've merely swapped places, and Harth likes being the one she sees when she wakes up. He loves seeing that look in her eyes as she emerges from her sweet dreams and remembers where she is and who with. That fleeting moment before she remembers not to care. For that, he'll allow her as many dreams of her ex-lover as she wants.
Now the floor of Hell is laid
With stars of brightest gold
Sure, she wants to go home, and to be honest, so does Harth. Hell can be boring, after all, even if she's here with him, but who knows what will have happened in their extended absence? For all they know, her lover might have moved on, and won't that be delicious?
They shine for you, they shine for you
They burn for all to see
Right now, he's the only friend she has. And no one could ever love her more.
Come into these arms again
And set this spirit free