Who: Cain, Emmeline, Marik What: Taking Emmy back from Marik and bringing her to Cain's house Where: Sohma home(?) When: After Cain sees Ayame and child Rating: PG-13 for Marik [subject to change]
She was unconscious again, for which he was grateful and only partly responsible. Her ramblings had grown tedious; all she talked of was Cain. And while Marik reveled in her distress, he was sickened by her continuing devotion to someone like that British idiot.
He heard footsteps in the hall, someone pausing just outside the door. It had to be Cain. Smirking, he sat on the edge of her bed, reaching over to stroke her hair as he waited for the other to decide. Come in and risk death? Or walk away, and only lose her?
The door swung open. Risk of death it was, then. Marik grinned, wide and maniacal, and continued to run his fingers through her hair.
It always amazed Cain how much it bothered him when other people touched Emmeline. Not casually, of course. Kissing her hand, holding her elbow, helping her up; all that was fine. But this, watching that person stroke her hair calmly... it burned something deep inside of him.
There was no good way to start the conversation. Instead, the noble focused on moving, getting his legs to bring him into the room as he quietly closed the door behind him again. His face, thankfully, was blank enough for the moment, eyes downcast to prevent him from seeing the two on the bed.
So, Cain had indeed shown up. Good. It was no fun to threaten people if they didn't take the bait.
Not that it was very pressing, he supposed. What he'd told Bakura about Malik's remaining connection to reality was true, but it was necessary to kill Cain, or even really to harm him, in order to break his other entirely.
Marik absently twirled a strand of her hair around his finger, other hand reaching over to stroke her cheek.
He managed not to twitch. Of course, that partly Cain from not being able to move. Still, it was to be considered an achievement.
"I promised her I'd come," he replied quietly, still watching the floor. "I'm taking her home with me now. Pleasent as it would be to chat with you, therefore, I'd appreciate your cooperation in letting go of her and moving away."
Comments 21
He heard footsteps in the hall, someone pausing just outside the door. It had to be Cain. Smirking, he sat on the edge of her bed, reaching over to stroke her hair as he waited for the other to decide. Come in and risk death? Or walk away, and only lose her?
The door swung open. Risk of death it was, then. Marik grinned, wide and maniacal, and continued to run his fingers through her hair.
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It always amazed Cain how much it bothered him when other people touched Emmeline. Not casually, of course. Kissing her hand, holding her elbow, helping her up; all that was fine. But this, watching that person stroke her hair calmly... it burned something deep inside of him.
There was no good way to start the conversation. Instead, the noble focused on moving, getting his legs to bring him into the room as he quietly closed the door behind him again. His face, thankfully, was blank enough for the moment, eyes downcast to prevent him from seeing the two on the bed.
"...well."
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Not that it was very pressing, he supposed. What he'd told Bakura about Malik's remaining connection to reality was true, but it was necessary to kill Cain, or even really to harm him, in order to break his other entirely.
Marik absently twirled a strand of her hair around his finger, other hand reaching over to stroke her cheek.
"I was wondering when you'd show."
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"I promised her I'd come," he replied quietly, still watching the floor. "I'm taking her home with me now. Pleasent as it would be to chat with you, therefore, I'd appreciate your cooperation in letting go of her and moving away."
...might work. Right? Wrong.
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