[reaction] 1/2dramatic_capeSeptember 26 2010, 05:15:48 UTC
[ For a moment, Lelouch can't breathe.
The air trickles sluggishly into his lungs (dead) like there's (exit wounds) something ("You were stabbed in the heart.") holding him back, squeezing the breath out of him (screaming until his throat burned, screaming until he'd screamed her name right out of his lungs), like there's a -
(and suddenly for a blinding panicked several seconds, Lelouch is entirely certain that somehow seeing C.C.'s dream, seeing the unreal reality of his own death, held his own corpse in his/her hands, somehow he's certain this has caused him to die, caused that wound {that bleeding gushing wound all the blood in him spurting out redredred like Mother, like Mother all over again, only it's him it's him it's his blood} to open in his heart - he clutches at his side but there's nothing - )
And suddenly, a dull pain, and he realizes he can breathe, if only shallowly.
Right. He bruised his ribs the day before, falling off that stupid unicorn.
There is no wound. He's alive.
Alive.
The thought itself is enough to make him clutch his face in his hands for a second, almost laugh with it. Panic followed by a shocked half-crazed ecstasy. It's a primal reaction to almost-death, but he controls it. ]
[action] 2/2dramatic_capeSeptember 26 2010, 05:23:36 UTC
[ Moments later, he silently slides the dividing door between the outer living area and the bedroom. Pads over to the smallish bed - enough to fit two people only if they lie close - and slips in next to C.C., behind her back.
No words yet. He doesn't have them. There aren't any.
Lelouch gently puts an arm around her waist and nestles his head in the hollow of her neck and shoulder. Breathes in (carefully) the scent of her hair - still faintly of rabbit, though they're gone now.
It's a simple, solid message. The warmth of his body. The touch of his arm. His breath.
[ action ]cursethekingSeptember 26 2010, 05:34:50 UTC
[ C.C. hears the brief whisking of the door, and knows he's coming. She always does. Lelouch always carries that heady scent with him, that confidence in his stride, yet tonight those forward feet seem uncertain, missing the steps she's memorized over time. The bed sinks under his weight, which isn't much at all; he's such a small, insignificant thing, but his soul is all the stronger to make up for it.
She's still when Lelouch threads a spindly limb around her, when she feels warm air drifting along her bare neck. She isn't wearing much, which makes it almost funny, this situation. Lelouch shouldn't want to be so near, he hates that. He's scared of that, she so confidently accused him of. She wants to acknowledge his closeness, embrace him, whisper to him as a lover might, but she can't, because that isn't who she is, that isn't who they are, not now or ever.
The act is thoroughly convincing, yet the slight shaking of the mattress gives her away. Breath passes her lips unevenly, and she must bite her lip to quell its trembling. Even with her vast memory, C.C. can't recall the last time she quivered so, had to fight off the overwhelming urge to run. Perhaps she'd been running her entire life. Perhaps that's why they'd found each other in the first place.
Tonight, C.C. is the one who is the frightened rabbit, and she loathes herself for this human weakness. ]
[ action ]dramatic_capeSeptember 26 2010, 05:50:25 UTC
[ She shakes under his touch. It's odd, this feeling. This situation. Her skin is bare underneath his hand, bare and lightly touched with goosebumps. Something like cold, or fear, or both. Lelouch slowly - carefully, as one might approach a wary deer - draws her closer. Slowly, though, gently - she could resist if she wanted to, and he would stop. There's not that much distance to make up to begin with.
Carefully, he moves his hand up higher, up just beneath her left breast, where the scar remains, the only scar on her body. Traces it gently with it fingers. An old wound. Older than several of his lifetimes, in all probability. In a way, their positions are reversed from the first day she arrived - she putting her hands into his side to see if he was real, to see if it was true that he had risen from the dead, doubting, doubtful. Now he wants to make sure it is still her, still the C.C. he knows, that she hasn't gone somewhere he can't call her back from.
Her skin is soft, and warm, and incontrovertibly alive. Her chest rises and falls with her - admittedly uneven - breathing. This is real. This is real life. This closeness and warmth proves it - it's life, they are alive. They are not dead. And that is something.
Lelouch shushes her, quietly, softly. Just barely whispers: ]
[ action ]cursethekingSeptember 26 2010, 05:58:34 UTC
[ She's being pulled out of madness, out of the abyss by the same serpent who threw her in. There's a muffled noise of rebellion, but she forces it back down. This is Lelouch, not a demon. His touch grazes the outline of the disfiguring mark, a faded scar, but a scar she detests, because it bears the hated symbol of the Geass. Somehow, she doesn't flinch away, whether from fear, or in a vain effort to maintain her dignity. Neither will suffice.
His hands are warm, as well, elegant, delicate as she expected them to be. He won't hurt her, he's not capable of doing so. The thought relaxes her when she is nothing short of a disaster. Her chest stops, the air is tense, and she turns abruptly to face him. Her eyes are open, glazed, distant, face flushed from the intensity of the dream.
Yet no words follow. She stares, gold into violet, two creatures in darkness, of darkness. There's a question lurking in her gaze she can't bring herself to ask. Just that silent reaffirmation of his reassurances.
[ action ]dramatic_capeSeptember 26 2010, 06:15:47 UTC
[ C.C. turns. Her eyes: molten amber. He's trapped in them. Maybe he always has been. The moment she stepped out of that Knightmare - no, the moment she fell out of that compression canister - the moment they made their contract - the moment (moments, plural) she took a bullet to save him -
No. It's not so easily quantifiable. There are too many moments. And now there is this. This moment. This skin beneath his hand. This heartbeat. This shared breath. They are alive. And -
It's not something he consciously decides to do. It is more something that is done through him. ]
I...
[ And he is leaning - forward. Hesitant, if only for a second. A moment. This moment.
Their lips meet. Their breath meets. In all its aliveness.
[ action ]cursethekingSeptember 26 2010, 06:22:40 UTC
[ Her mind, in its volatile state, is only vaguely aware of that hypnotic connection, the attraction that drives them inevitably together, like crashing cars. Gears are turning in his mind, she senses them, that logical urgency, but for what? Draw back, draw closer? What will you do, Lelouch, she ponders in that stagnant silence. What do you hope to accomplish here?
A single syllable, lost to the heaviness of her breath - no, she supposes it's theirs now as he takes the leap of faith and kisses her. She's not surprised by the gesture, only by the timing of it. She accepts him, clings to him as her sole line to reality. You're alive, you're alive, thank the gods, you're alive and next to me. Her hand finds a place behind his head and in his hair, clutching, grasping, needing solace. She buries her fingers in those strands and her mouth in his and simply surrenders.
If only for a moment, she wishes it will last forever. ]
[ action ]dramatic_capeSeptember 26 2010, 06:46:46 UTC
[ C.C. never loses her composure this way - is always tightly wrapped up, controlled, cold, aware of her every word and movement. Not like this, not needing, not wanting like this. Then again - neither is Lelouch ever like this, ever this close, this exposed, this vulnerable. This kind of thing ...was never anything he really wanted (or wanted to want, perhaps). But there it is, there they are - the two of them, needing. Wanting. Wanting each other, someone whole and real to touch. Something not dead.
( Are you frightened, Lelouch? Are you lonely? )
These things, then, are real: his pulse loud in his throat; the bright shadows the waning gibbous moon throws on the floor; C.C.'s hands in his hair, her fingers against his scalp; the warmth of her body against his; her smell, grass and something more primal, something uniquely feminine; and her breath hot in his lungs.
[ action ]cursethekingSeptember 26 2010, 06:56:16 UTC
[ She breaks off after a minute or so, for breath she doesn't even need; it's out of consideration for the nervous young man beneath her. She strokes along his cheek tenderly, lingering close, expression unreadable. ]
Lelouch...
[ Even now, she's prideful. She wouldn't mind kissing him again - Lelouch is hardly skillful, just soft, warm, and human instead - but she refrains from ensnaring him further. She tries to smile, to reward him in kind for his compassion, yet she falls short. Her voice cracks as she struggles for the words. ]
You... you are kind to me.
Thank you.
[ And now it can be seen, clear in the moonlight. There are tears glistening on her cheeks. She is grateful, however, for this much, and she endeavors to let it show.
[ action ]dramatic_capeSeptember 26 2010, 07:51:42 UTC
[ Again - like at Narita. The first time her mask had cracked. The tears on her cheeks shine sparsely, faintly in the light of the moon and stars (no light pollution here; the sky is brighter at night than anything Lelouch has ever seen). But at that time, she'd retreated, laughed it off, covered back up as quickly as she could.
He reaches up and touches the tears on her cheek - doesn't wipe them away just yet, merely touches them, confirms their existence.
( No, we won't, will we? )
Lelouch hugs her again, presses his face to her shoulder. ]
[ action ]cursethekingSeptember 26 2010, 08:03:08 UTC
[ C.C. reciprocates the embrace in full, arms encircling his torso, locking him there. You'll stay with me, she almost laughs, I won't let go, no matter what. She pets his hair, synced with his movements as she shifts to accommodate the new position. Nuzzling under his cheek, she speaks again, shakingly but with confident volume. ]
I'm alright, Lelouch. Don't concern yourself.
[ Don't get entangled with me, she would warn him, but it's far too late for that. And besides, she very much enjoys these moments of humanity, when she's able to catch them from all the other moments of cruelty. She hugs him closer, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. The man has coaxed an unusual amount of affection from her, something he'll tease her about afterwords, but presently she can't be bothered to care. ]
[ action ]dramatic_capeSeptember 26 2010, 21:07:13 UTC
Yeah - [ he half-laughs this, still with his face in her hair. They might not acknowledge this in the morning, but here and now, this is okay. ] Yeah.
[ It doesn't matter that he's dead in another time and place; it doesn't matter how long it takes to get home; it doesn't matter that they're in a place where all the odds are stacked against them. It just matters, to be able to hold onto one another. To offer that comfort. ]
[ action ]cursethekingSeptember 26 2010, 21:23:26 UTC
[ She withdraws a little at the bittersweet laughter, hands slipping around to frame his face. She's managed to settle herself, finally, but the beaten way (to her ears) he answers, the weary look in his eyes, she can't help it, voicing concern. Just as she told him not to do. ]
You don't have to bear this on your own. You know that.
[ She pleads, not because she's desperate. She pleads for his sake. She remembers his nightmare well - they almost mirror each other, in their horror, in their death - and she won't allow him to succumb to such an embrace. Only hers. She's a selfish, stubborn witch, and that won't change, in any of her lifetimes.
She won't repeat herself, and she doesn't know what else to say, so her hands wander, painting under deadly eyes, across fragile cheekbones, fine features. Gently, as though he'll break to pieces.
But she'll keep him together, keep them both together in the process. She made a promise to, more than a contract. And she'll abide it gladly. ]
[ action ]dramatic_capeSeptember 27 2010, 00:17:05 UTC
I know that. [ He says this quietly, his eyes still not meeting hers.
He is silent for several seconds. ]
You remember... the promise I made? I promised you I wouldn't lose to my past. [ Lelouch had not kept that promise. His past had broken him. He had lost to his father, to his past. Yet here he is. Here he is, still defiantly extant, while the past is past.
Lelouch reaches up, takes one of her hands. Now he is looking her in the eye. ]
[ action ]cursethekingSeptember 27 2010, 00:34:34 UTC
We've made so many promises now, haven't we?
[ But when Lelouch's resilience returns - the resilience that forged a rebellion, that overthrew an empire, that instilled a new one in its place and carved a path towards the future - this brings a faint smile to C.C.'s face. Her warlock has come back to her. Her warlock is here, declaring his defiance against the gods. In truth, she couldn't be more pleased. ]
Is that so? Then I'll stay by you, and make sure of that.
[ The other hand covers Lelouch's. She brings their joined hands together, bends her head to them, and shuts her eyes, as though in prayer. ]
I will make certain you can meet that future, as always. Lelouch.
[ It's a secret she keeps to herself, but it's the name she adores most. ]
[ action ]dramatic_capeSeptember 27 2010, 03:59:16 UTC
[ Lelouch smiles. ]
Then we'll meet it together.
[ He stifles a yawn; it's late, and with the dream melting back into something less immediate and raw in his mind, he's beginning to feel tired agian. He sinks back against the small mattress. ] I'll stay. For tonight. [ He murmurs this against their hands, mirroring C.C.'s posture for a moment. ]
The air trickles sluggishly into his lungs (dead) like there's (exit wounds) something ("You were stabbed in the heart.") holding him back, squeezing the breath out of him (screaming until his throat burned, screaming until he'd screamed her name right out of his lungs), like there's a -
(and suddenly for a blinding panicked several seconds, Lelouch is entirely certain that somehow seeing C.C.'s dream, seeing the unreal reality of his own death, held his own corpse in his/her hands, somehow he's certain this has caused him to die, caused that wound {that bleeding gushing wound all the blood in him spurting out redredred like Mother, like Mother all over again, only it's him it's him it's his blood} to open in his heart - he clutches at his side but there's nothing - )
And suddenly, a dull pain, and he realizes he can breathe, if only shallowly.
Right. He bruised his ribs the day before, falling off that stupid unicorn.
There is no wound. He's alive.
Alive.
The thought itself is enough to make him clutch his face in his hands for a second, almost laugh with it. Panic followed by a shocked half-crazed ecstasy. It's a primal reaction to almost-death, but he controls it. ]
Reply
No words yet. He doesn't have them. There aren't any.
Lelouch gently puts an arm around her waist and nestles his head in the hollow of her neck and shoulder. Breathes in (carefully) the scent of her hair - still faintly of rabbit, though they're gone now.
It's a simple, solid message. The warmth of his body. The touch of his arm. His breath.
I am here. I am alive. ]
Reply
She's still when Lelouch threads a spindly limb around her, when she feels warm air drifting along her bare neck. She isn't wearing much, which makes it almost funny, this situation. Lelouch shouldn't want to be so near, he hates that. He's scared of that, she so confidently accused him of. She wants to acknowledge his closeness, embrace him, whisper to him as a lover might, but she can't, because that isn't who she is, that isn't who they are, not now or ever.
The act is thoroughly convincing, yet the slight shaking of the mattress gives her away. Breath passes her lips unevenly, and she must bite her lip to quell its trembling. Even with her vast memory, C.C. can't recall the last time she quivered so, had to fight off the overwhelming urge to run. Perhaps she'd been running her entire life. Perhaps that's why they'd found each other in the first place.
Tonight, C.C. is the one who is the frightened rabbit, and she loathes herself for this human weakness. ]
Reply
Carefully, he moves his hand up higher, up just beneath her left breast, where the scar remains, the only scar on her body. Traces it gently with it fingers. An old wound. Older than several of his lifetimes, in all probability. In a way, their positions are reversed from the first day she arrived - she putting her hands into his side to see if he was real, to see if it was true that he had risen from the dead, doubting, doubtful. Now he wants to make sure it is still her, still the C.C. he knows, that she hasn't gone somewhere he can't call her back from.
Her skin is soft, and warm, and incontrovertibly alive. Her chest rises and falls with her - admittedly uneven - breathing. This is real. This is real life. This closeness and warmth proves it - it's life, they are alive. They are not dead. And that is something.
Lelouch shushes her, quietly, softly. Just barely whispers: ]
It's okay. It's okay.
Reply
His hands are warm, as well, elegant, delicate as she expected them to be. He won't hurt her, he's not capable of doing so. The thought relaxes her when she is nothing short of a disaster. Her chest stops, the air is tense, and she turns abruptly to face him. Her eyes are open, glazed, distant, face flushed from the intensity of the dream.
Yet no words follow. She stares, gold into violet, two creatures in darkness, of darkness. There's a question lurking in her gaze she can't bring herself to ask. Just that silent reaffirmation of his reassurances.
Will it really? ]
Reply
No. It's not so easily quantifiable. There are too many moments. And now there is this. This moment. This skin beneath his hand. This heartbeat. This shared breath. They are alive. And -
It's not something he consciously decides to do. It is more something that is done through him. ]
I...
[ And he is leaning - forward. Hesitant, if only for a second. A moment. This moment.
Their lips meet. Their breath meets. In all its aliveness.
It's warm. ]
Reply
A single syllable, lost to the heaviness of her breath - no, she supposes it's theirs now as he takes the leap of faith and kisses her. She's not surprised by the gesture, only by the timing of it. She accepts him, clings to him as her sole line to reality. You're alive, you're alive, thank the gods, you're alive and next to me. Her hand finds a place behind his head and in his hair, clutching, grasping, needing solace. She buries her fingers in those strands and her mouth in his and simply surrenders.
If only for a moment, she wishes it will last forever. ]
Reply
( Are you frightened, Lelouch? Are you lonely? )
These things, then, are real: his pulse loud in his throat; the bright shadows the waning gibbous moon throws on the floor; C.C.'s hands in his hair, her fingers against his scalp; the warmth of her body against his; her smell, grass and something more primal, something uniquely feminine; and her breath hot in his lungs.
( Yes. I was. )
]
Reply
Lelouch...
[ Even now, she's prideful. She wouldn't mind kissing him again - Lelouch is hardly skillful, just soft, warm, and human instead - but she refrains from ensnaring him further. She tries to smile, to reward him in kind for his compassion, yet she falls short. Her voice cracks as she struggles for the words. ]
You... you are kind to me.
Thank you.
[ And now it can be seen, clear in the moonlight. There are tears glistening on her cheeks. She is grateful, however, for this much, and she endeavors to let it show.
( We won't be lonely anymore. ) ]
Reply
He reaches up and touches the tears on her cheek - doesn't wipe them away just yet, merely touches them, confirms their existence.
( No, we won't, will we? )
Lelouch hugs her again, presses his face to her shoulder. ]
Reply
I'm alright, Lelouch. Don't concern yourself.
[ Don't get entangled with me, she would warn him, but it's far too late for that. And besides, she very much enjoys these moments of humanity, when she's able to catch them from all the other moments of cruelty. She hugs him closer, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. The man has coaxed an unusual amount of affection from her, something he'll tease her about afterwords, but presently she can't be bothered to care. ]
I've got you, and... you've got me, right? You're alive, Lelouch, you're--
[ Her grip tightens, and she's unable to finish, just holding him. She's afraid she'll melt otherwise. ]
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[ It doesn't matter that he's dead in another time and place; it doesn't matter how long it takes to get home; it doesn't matter that they're in a place where all the odds are stacked against them. It just matters, to be able to hold onto one another. To offer that comfort. ]
Reply
You don't have to bear this on your own. You know that.
[ She pleads, not because she's desperate. She pleads for his sake. She remembers his nightmare well - they almost mirror each other, in their horror, in their death - and she won't allow him to succumb to such an embrace. Only hers. She's a selfish, stubborn witch, and that won't change, in any of her lifetimes.
She won't repeat herself, and she doesn't know what else to say, so her hands wander, painting under deadly eyes, across fragile cheekbones, fine features. Gently, as though he'll break to pieces.
But she'll keep him together, keep them both together in the process. She made a promise to, more than a contract. And she'll abide it gladly. ]
Reply
He is silent for several seconds. ]
You remember... the promise I made? I promised you I wouldn't lose to my past. [ Lelouch had not kept that promise. His past had broken him. He had lost to his father, to his past. Yet here he is. Here he is, still defiantly extant, while the past is past.
Lelouch reaches up, takes one of her hands. Now he is looking her in the eye. ]
I'm making you a promise now, C.C.
I won't lose to my future, either.
Reply
[ But when Lelouch's resilience returns - the resilience that forged a rebellion, that overthrew an empire, that instilled a new one in its place and carved a path towards the future - this brings a faint smile to C.C.'s face. Her warlock has come back to her. Her warlock is here, declaring his defiance against the gods. In truth, she couldn't be more pleased. ]
Is that so? Then I'll stay by you, and make sure of that.
[ The other hand covers Lelouch's. She brings their joined hands together, bends her head to them, and shuts her eyes, as though in prayer. ]
I will make certain you can meet that future, as always. Lelouch.
[ It's a secret she keeps to herself, but it's the name she adores most. ]
Reply
Then we'll meet it together.
[ He stifles a yawn; it's late, and with the dream melting back into something less immediate and raw in his mind, he's beginning to feel tired agian. He sinks back against the small mattress. ] I'll stay. For tonight. [ He murmurs this against their hands, mirroring C.C.'s posture for a moment. ]
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