(Untitled)

[butterflyfactor]

Layla awoke to the curious sensation of knowing it was Christmas Morning, and not being consumed with a hollow, distant loathing. As it happened, she felt well rested and sort of happy. She was no stranger to feeling pleased, or smug, or even satisfied with events played appropriately out, particularly when she was the cause. A feeling of general

Comments

[howmanylives]

In sleep, Jamie looked much different than in waking. Perhaps the same could be said for most people, but the contrast was especially notable in him; laying still and with his eyes closed, gone was his scrutinizing gaze and his sense of perpetual movement. He was quiet -- at peace, to an extent -- which was a state of being that generally escaped him when he was conscious, the time some part of him had once spent as a monk too far gone to be relevant in his day-to-day life anymore, too buried under new experiences, and conflicting memories. Stripped of worry, he seemed younger, or less burdened, careless in a way he hadn't been able to afford to be in years, not since his government days, not since he first died

[butterflyfactor]

She watched him, over her shoulder, until he ducked his head forward and she did the same, enjoying the feel of his breath across the back of her neck. She slid her opposite hand along his arm until hers was wrapped across them both, and she skirted the tops of her feet against his leg. Just because.

"Merry Christmas," she whispered back. She kind of meant it. Not that she had any particularly strong feelings of 'what Christmas meant', except as a bleak reminder of everything that life could have been if she didn't know, or hadn't known, every second of what it would be. But there was a certain sentiment in it that she could kind of get behind, in that moment. Watching Jamie wake up was strangely gratifying, if a little sad. With his brain switched off, he could be mistaken for a happy person. With his brain switched off, he wasn't him, though.

[howmanylives]

"Time is it?" he asked thickly. Complete sentences seemed entirely out of his reach at the moment, but his point was clear enough regardless, or so he would've thought. In actuality, he wasn't all that concerned with the time -- he had nowhere to go for the day, had intended on spending its entirety with Layla -- but it filled up the silence, oddly comfortable though it was. She was just too warm, too tangible, and present for him to feel anything but at ease. It felt strangely wonderful, if wholly novel, and a part of him wondered if this might not become a regular occurrence, if this wasn't what being in a relationship was about.

[butterflyfactor]

She hummed quietly, and sighed, sinking against him and closing her eyes for a moment.

"I neither know nor care," Layla replied, turning her head again to look at him. She smiled, a little, and warmly.