Comments | godofcologne: Hiding from the aftermath

godofcologne

Hiding from the aftermath

Jun 17, 2009 23:38

It had been late, almost sunrise, when Thomas made it back indoors, arms stiff with exertion. He headed upstairs with every intention of cleaning the guns and then collapsing in bed, but the note on his bed changed his plans. The gym bag went under the bed and the kukri went in his hand. Leaving his clothes in yet another pile on the floor, he ( Read more... )

scene, [rwb], c: drusilla, night 30

Comments 36

dead_drusilla June 18 2009, 04:56:18 UTC

It wasn't that she didn't sleep. She did. It was a practice. Her body rested because it wanted to, but her mind was so awake. Alive with things that didn't quite make sense. None of her visions made any sense. They hurt. They always hurt. Like little icepicks in her eyes. Like little shocks of horror that wasn't right at all.

Thomas smelled of guns. And Thomas smelled of comfort. And Thomas smelled of silence and beauty that went on and on. It curled about her and dragged her into a merciful blankness. If she clung to him like he was the only thing that stopped her from falling, it couldn't be helped.

When she opened her eyes, she still saw fire. Burning. Buildings that had sprouted the arms of an octopus. But it didn't match with the emptiness. The feeling that a part of her had been cut out, and would never come back.

She blinked away the sleep, away the visions.

"I am envious of Edward," she said, her voice barely a whisper, "He gets to wake up to you every day."

godofcologne June 18 2009, 05:04:51 UTC

Dru's voice, soft and ethereal, called him back from the edge of sleep, and Thomas pressed a short trail of kisses down her back. "Then you should stay with me," he answered, words murmured against her bare skin, "He won't mind. He spends his days sleeping with Lacci."

His arm tightened around hers and Thomas spoke again, this time his voice filled with contrition. "I'm sorry, Dru. About last night."

dead_drusilla June 18 2009, 05:17:29 UTC

That stung. Just a little. Which was odd, considering she couldn't figure out why that had stung. Everyone shared. maybe it was because she felt guilty? Drusilla had spent her days sleeping alone, if she slept. Why hadn't she slept with Thomas?

Pressing her body into him, settling into the curve they made, was the bets thing she had done since she ran through a forest. That seemed world's away.

His apology was secondary, and her anger and hurt about their argument was gone. It had been wiped out last night. "Thomas. If I asked you something, you would tell me the truth wouldn't you? Not because I could tell you were lying, but because you cared?"

godofcologne June 18 2009, 05:30:03 UTC

She settled against him, and Thomas smiled at the feel of her skin against his. At her quiet question, the contented smile faded a little, though Dru couldn't see it. "Of course, lovely," he answered. And when the words came out of his mouth, Thomas knew he would, that even though he would laugh and spin white lies and evasions for Edward and Lacrimosa, pretend things that mattered didn't, he wouldn't for Dru.

Somewhere deep inside him, he knew that was a lie, that even Edward and Lacci would have the truth if they asked. "What do you want to know?"

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godofcologne June 19 2009, 03:44:30 UTC

When Dru suddenly stiffened and clung to him, gasping with the desperation of the drowning, Thomas felt a deep horrified panic. The emotions that had been so close to him were suddenly gone, replaced by some gaping void. He called her name once, twice, unable to coax any recognition out of unseeing eyes. And as suddenly as it had come, she was back, her emotions again rushing up against him. Her nails had broken skin, but he made no sound of discomfort or pain, opening his mouth to ask what was wrong.

And her lips were suddenly on his, kissing him with clinging desperation, and Thomas' arms tightened around her, returning her kiss with everything he could give her. It took a moment for him to realized that she didn't need his words now, his little reassurances, even if his instinct was to offer them. The Hunger was on his lips as he deepened the kiss, tasting Dru as he scraped his tongue lightly against her fangs.

He couldn't give her words or understanding, not now. All he could give her was blood and silence, body and mind.

dead_drusilla June 19 2009, 05:05:38 UTC

There was no lust in her kiss. Drusilla wasn't drowning, she just needed Thomas. Whatever he could give. Anything that could stave off a darkness she thought she had banished the night before. Her madness went out uncontrolled, the way it had done whens he had first got to the house. It was in every kiss, every small touch. His blood was sweet, but nothing was as precious or taken as desperately as the silence. Her hips rocked gently against his, and Drusilla found everything funny. Drowning. She was always drowning. Sadness and joy wrapped in each other. The knowledge that she could never be first in his heart hurt. It hurt so much, but it was still worth it. Loving Thomas was worth being second or third or fourth. He was worth the taste of ashes.

How lucky she is. How lucky we all are. For loving you.Drusilla pulled away, her hands on either side of his face. Breathing softly, her breasts rising and falling against his chest, Drusilla fought to say what she wanted ( ... )

godofcologne June 19 2009, 06:13:07 UTC

She pulled away, the madness untangling itself from the Hunger, and Thomas felt irrationally alone when she did. Her hands on either side of his face relieved some of that loneliness, but then she began speaking and it was as if someone had simultaneously pulled the floor out from under him, kicked him in the gut, and clubbed him over the head.

There was so much fear in her as she spoke; he could feel it in her hands, against his skin, still tingling on his lip where she had kissed him. And then she had put all that he had known in the back of his mind into words, turning those easily repressed vague intuitions and feelings, into crystalline truth. It hurt to hear it so plainly, and he almost flinched as if he'd been slapped ( ... )

dead_drusilla June 19 2009, 08:23:54 UTC

Her eyes were unflinching. "How vain you are ( ... )

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