aftermath [open post for housemates]

[illgotten]

Supper's nearly over by the time Mordred gets home, after the latest crackplot has worn off and he's finally gotten done whatever he was out doing. He elbows the front door open and slips inside, all windblown and lively. "Hi."

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[cywyllog]

Cywyllog glances up from her seat near the fire. "Yourself again, I see." Shorter, anyway.

[cywyllog]

"I know," she glances at him quickly, flashing a tiny smile. "As I have said before, I expect nothing from you."

[illgotten]

"That's quite clear, thanks." He runs his fingers through his hair, and stands up.

[cywyllog]

She sighs, gaze turning back to the flames. "Then I am sorry to have made you bear me repeating it."

[illgotten]

"Don't give me that." But he doesn't move to leave, and his hand brushes her hair, a little tentatively.

[cywyllog]

She looks up at him, surprised. "What should I give you, then? It seems no matter what I say, it only makes things more awkward than they already are."

[illgotten]

Mordred looks at her, just looks for a minute, frowning slightly in perplexity more than annoyance. He starts to say something, then abandons it; and then he leans down to kiss her, warm and steady and a little shy.

[cywyllog]

Her whole body tenses in shock, though it doesn't last long. Soon enough, she reaches up and slides a hand loosely into his hair.

[illgotten]

He shifts a little, leaning against the arm of the chair, settling a hand on her shoulder. When the kiss ends, he doesn't move for a moment, doesn't open his eyes, as if he's afraid of tipping some delicate balance.

[cywyllog]

And Cywyllog doesn't know what to do, certainly doesn't know what to say to this and terribly afraid of ruining whatever that just was.

So she sits quietly. Waiting.

[illgotten]

Presently he draws back a little, and meets her eyes uncertainly. "--I." Sorry seems ridiculous at this point. Anything else that comes to mind seems presumptuous. "Um."

[cywyllog]

That tiny smile reappears. "I knew I remembered better."

[illgotten]

He laughs a bit, glancing down. "Good. I'd hate to think I--"

And then a shiver goes through him, and he bites his lip, looking into the fire with an expression of sudden pain.

[cywyllog]

She furrows her brow, concerned. "What is it?"

[illgotten]

An indrawn breath. "I hate this. I hate not remembering, and not wanting to remember, and losing bits even now, apparently, God, I hate it!" Beneath the frustration in his tone there is stark terror. He looks aside, away from her. "Damn."

[cywyllog]

"Oh," she replies faintly, staring down at her lap, fingers twisting together nervously. "I... Perhaps you will not remember, then, if that it what you truly want."