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Post by Tiz on Jul 9, 2015 19:11:37 GMT -6
"So then... it was you, huh?"
Tiz reached out behind her as she buried her face in her hands, pulling her in close him so her head landed lightly in the center of his chest. He rested one hand behind her head, and the other on her shoulder, scratching gently the back of her head as she explained her remorse, her action, and the consequences therein. Tiz's eyes closed and his lips became pursed as he let a huge sigh out of his nose, wondering what on earth he could possibly say.
She was just like him. She was exactly like him. No matter how hard she tried to deny it the last time they'd been together, at their core, they shared the same sentiment. Every life had meaning. Every breath was precious... Even the most vile monster had at least a flicker of light in their dark hearts.
The swordsman's voice was light and calm, trying not to make a heavy situation heavier by his tone. He finally opened his eyes about halfway, staring at the pillar at the end of the pew on the far side of them as he stroked Myscha's beautiful, blonde head. He sighed again, once more, through his mouth, before piecing together the thoughts in his mind into sentences. Where could he even begin? This was clearly the first life she had taken, and having taken many before himself, in addition to having acted the same way she did at his first kill, he had everything to say... and yet, he had nothing to say. Some situations required that certain things be said-- when someone is sick, you say "get well"; when someone is sad, you say "cheer up"... But this? What could be said about the loss of a living, breathing human being with a beating heart and a will to live?
"Myscha..." Tiz began slowly. "I could tell you that by killing that man, you saved countless lives. I could tell you that by killing that man, you prevented civil war. I could tell you that by killing that man, you earned the Count's trust, the Marquess's trust, I could tell you that by killing that man, you kept things from becoming so tense they might explode... I could tell you that by killing that man, you saved Lycia from destroying itself. It's a reach, I know, but you might've very well done that. I could tell you that by killing that man, you made yourself a hero, setting yourself apart from the common criminal, because you believed that life was more important than fairness or justice as determined by someone else. I could tell you all of these things," he finished, breathing heavily. "And they'd all be completely true. But..."
"I can't." He shook his head gently, his chin brushing softly against the top of the woman's head. "I can't, because I know you. I know what you're feeling. And I know, above all, that his picture cannot be erased from your mind. I know what it feels like to have warm blood on your hands, to be able to look at a dying man and think yeah, that was me... I did that."
He stroked her cheek with the hand that had been on her shoulder affectionately, wishing he could mend her broken soul.
"When I first killed a man, I was in the League." He began as if telling a happy story, but the somber tone in his voice didn't fail. "I had to... I had to step back in the ranks, stop back and take a seat, while my comrades went forward to continue the fight. I was in medically defined shock. I had to lay down and drink lots of water, and you know what? His face is still in my head, still at the forefront of my mind's eye. Oh Tiz, it was clean kill... Tiz, you did your duty, Tiz you did the right thing, TIz it had to be done..."
"But none of it mattered. The gods, or the sweet earth, or whatever it was... Something gave life, and I took it away. I didn't think I had the right to destroy something so eternally precious. It shook me so much, I couldn't fight for a few days. Eventually, and unfortunately, I became desensitized to it, and my military duty became my primary motivation."
"In the end, death is what drove me away from the League. In the end, death pushed me out, claiming victory over my weak, fallible heart. And in the end... I kept breathing."
He smiled softly, weakly. "In the end, I took another breath. I walked another step. I opened my eyes again, I let my blood flow through my body. I told myself that yeah, I had done something terrible, and yeah, maybe if there are gods out there, if there's something after this life... Maybe I'll pay for it. But as I breathed, as I let myself continue to stumble forward, even just at a crawl at some points in my life... I realized that my purpose was too powerful to be cast aside by my feelings of regret, my feelings of having done something terrible.
"My purpose was to love... To love, and to fight for the people that I love. To fight for people who couldn't fight for themselves, to fight for the weak and the frail and the women and the children and the men of this world who, despite my reprehensible actions, also drew breath. How could I let myself be destroyed by ending one life when, by doing nothing, I might let ten thousand more end in the same way?"
He let himself pause, breathing slowly, trying his very best not to cry. "It isn't an excuse. Saving lives is not an excuse to end one. It never is... But... In this world, we're faced with hard choices. Our character is defined by our hard choices. Our character is also defined by how we react to those choices. They shape us, mold us... Craft us into beings capable of empathy, sympathy, love, compassion, friendship... And for your shining, golden heart, frail though it might seem at times, only these hard choices will make you into something new. Myscha, you will never be tomorrow the person you are today. So,"
He picked her face up, pulled her hands away, and held his warm hands against her cheeks, pulling her face in close to his. "Don't lose heart. Your heart is your infinitely shining beacon of hope. Hope is all we have. So don't lose it. You can't. I can't let you. Taking lives is hard, and maybe it never gets easier, but... 'May light always surround you, Hope kindle and rebound you... May wounds become wisdom...'"
He stopped a moment, leaned in very slowly, and gently kissed the woman's still-wet cheek. "Please, Myscha. Don't carry this burden alone. Your heart is fragile, and is only made stronger by trusting in the hearts of others. Don't lie in your dark pit alone. Take another breath. Walk one more slow, small step. Look up. Don't keep your head low. Keep the man you killed on your mind as you refill your heart, as you walk your path, as he no doubt walked his. Life is precious, Myscha, and I know that you know that. So don't waste yours, in the same way you wouldn't waste anyone else's. I..."
He couldn't say it. He wouldn't say it.
"You can breathe again. You will be able to walk again. I promise."
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Post by Charlotte on Jul 10, 2015 7:31:47 GMT -6
Charlotte’s head against Tiz’s chest, she felt comforted by his presence, though in what capacity she wasn’t sure. The blonde didn’t like to grow too close to others, always keeping them at arm’s length to ensure she always kept things professional. And yet, there was something nice about confiding this horrid weight in someone else; something about all this made the weight just a bit lighter. It still weighed on her heavily, more so than anything she’d ever done , but knowing she didn’t have it on her shoulders alone somehow made it… better.
Tiz was so optimistic, so good-hearted as he told her of the things the assassin’s death might prevent, Tiz’s own shortcomings and how he’d dealt with those “sins.” Sure, she’d thought through many of the scenarios that the man she leaned into presented, but even as she justified his death, justified her split-second decision to end his life, she didn’t know how she could ever be sure. She had confidence in every other decision she’d made, but not this. How could she ever be confidence in this?
Maybe Tiz was a stronger person than her, or perhaps less jaded when it came to believing this would get better. What ways could she numb the pain? What ways could she keep moving forward? Was the only way to keep herself moving, too busy to even think about what had happened? But right now, all she felt was that intense doubt, that bloomed sadness that enveloped her and refused to release her. Perhaps going to Etruria would help distract from all that she was feeling. Perhaps something new would save her from this.
As his hands cupped her face, eyes trained on hers, refusing to allow her to look away, he told her simply to not to lose hope - in his own words, of course. Hope wasn’t something Charlotte relied on in her line of work, as hope led to inaction and listlessness instead of results. but was that the only thing that would heal this hurt now? The only thing that could force these feelings away? She couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t believe it. She’d never relied on the powers-to-be to fix her problems, and she couldn’t now.
His lips brushed her cheek so gently, so delicately, it sent shivers through her body, through her very bones. For a brief moment all thoughts left her, save for his quiet words, his lips against her skin. Was that the answer? Closing her eyes, she allowed his words to fill her, and while some of the message was lost, for a brief moment she believed he might be right.
Suddenly and without warning, Charlotte reached out, her own hand cupping his cheek as she bridged the gap between them, planting her lips firmly on his. His touch seemed to warm her, and in that moment, in her state of mind, it felt as a holy moment. She pushed her mouth against his, forgetting, if just for a moment, where they were, why she was upset, why he was here.
But just as suddenly as she’d kissed him, the woman pulled away from a single thought. Would she even remember any of this in the morning? Would she simply wake with the same burden on her shoulders without feeling as it had lifted? She felt more coherent than she had all night, but her mind still felt extremely foggy, her focus in a million places as soon as her lips left his. No, she couldn’t do this, not now.
“Sorry,” Charlotte mumbled, leaning back and kneading her temples. She suddenly felt exhausted from the day, from the last few days, and she wanted to rest. Hopefully she could. “I think I need to sleep now. Just... drop me at the nearest inn.” She quietly wished for the man to stay with her, to keep her company, but she’d never ask him directly. Charlotte was too proud for that, especially after placing her burdens on him now.
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Post by Tiz on Jul 10, 2015 8:15:08 GMT -6
The breath left his body like the cold morning air had sapped him lifeless as Myscha reached out suddenly to kiss him. His eyes were frozen open, his lips unresponsive, his very core totally unmoving-- Tiz left his hands where they were, not knowing what to do or how to respond. It wasn't the first time she'd kissed him, but this felt different, to say nothing of the fact that it was unexpected. In addition, the man had of course forgotten how wonderful it had felt... He looked at her closed eyelids, the spots under them still wet from a few single tears. She looked beautiful, but... broken. She looked internally wounded. And of course she was, how couldn't she be?
When the woman pulled away, Tiz snapped himself back into reality. He looked at her lips, back into her eyes, then back down again. He was shocked, as if he'd seen a ghost, but a bit more curious. His eyes flickered, and in the same type of fluid, sudden motion that Myscha had, Tiz pulled her face back in, closed his eyes, and kissed her, allowing the full of his heart brimming in glory to slip out through his mouth as he slid his lips in between hers, opening his mouth a bit and conveying the same sense of passion he had felt on their first night together. He let the kiss linger and stroked her cheek again with both thumbs, his brow furrowing a bit as he did so.
This woman was utterly destroyed by what she had done, and he felt for her.
As he slowly and reluctantly pulled away, Tiz's eyes opened slowly and he sighed quietly, unsure of what to say to her, what to do. On occasion, actions did speak louder than words, but... What about this? What sort of situation was this, and what did it warrant? He's wasn't a confidant, usually... He didn't know what else could be said or done. He hungered to know what words he could put together to make her feel better, but then he realized that maybe words weren't the answer. Could words alone even erase the way she felt, erase what she had done? He didn't think they could, and the conflict in his soul came forth into his green eyes, and they wavered a bit as he studied her. He had no idea what to do. This time, he was at a loss for words for different reasons than he had been before.
He started to speak, to say something, and a few sounds came out, but Tiz stifled them, pushing them back into his core. He'd said enough, he thought. And if he hadn't... He didn't know what else he could do. He wasn't sure if this was something he was just telling himself, or if it was something he actually felt.
Right now, he didn't know much of anything.
She apologized, and he pursed his lips and closed his eyes. "No," he said softly, shaking his head slowly. "Don't be sorry. Please, don't be sorry for anything. Sorry is... not how I want to leave you, Myscha."
He swallowed hard, looking across her face again. It was as if he could almost see the demons that pushed hard on her shoulders. "I'm not going to drop you anywhere, Myscha. If you're sure it's an inn you want, I can help you. But I..."
Want to stay with you. Come on, Tiz. Just say it.
But he couldn't. He shook his head, then stood up. He picked Myscha up gently and easily, carrying her in his arms, with one hand under her knees as they hung over his forearm and another cupping below her head to carry her. This would probably be easier on her stomach, he thought. He took one last look at the stained glass window on the far side... He beautifully the moonlight shone through it. It was a design of St. Elimine herself, reaching down below to hold the hand of a child. He wondered what it meant.
Finally turning away from it, he cautiously carried Myscha back out the way they'd come, into the open night. It was late now-- not a one roamed the streets. The inns, of course, would still be open, but likely nothing retail related would still have lights on. The street on which the church was placed was dead empty, only the presence of these two warm bodies lighting it. If it weren't for the moon, Tiz wouldn't be able to see anything.
He looked down to his right where he cradled Myscha's head. "You're sure you want an inn? No sights you want to see on this beautiful night?" He joked, offering another weak smile.
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Post by Charlotte on Jul 10, 2015 15:56:09 GMT -6
The quiet of the large cathedral seemed just as stifling as everything on her mind, especially after having just kissed Tiz again. Charlotte hadn’t expected him to kiss her back, but she pushed back into him nonetheless, momentarily relieved that she didn’t have to think of her qualms, if only for a moment. As soon as they pulled away, though, her apology tumbled from her lips, drawing away from him to draw back into herself, into her jumbled thoughts.
Still kneading her temples, Charlotte listened as he spoke, unsurprised that he wasn’t willing to just drop her off at an inn. She wasn’t sure where else he had in mind to take her, unless it was to wherever he was staying. To her drunken self, she’d already determined she didn’t want to be alone tonight, so she wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea. But if that was what was on his mind, he wasn’t saying it.
“It’s fine,” Charlotte conceded as he shook his head. “I just need somewhere to stay tonight is all.” She quieted as the man lifted her into his arms; she’d normally protest, but she recognized with her sudden onset of exhaustion mixed with her still inebriated state, she still could use the help. She didn’t notice the glas as he did, simply resting her head on his shoulder again and closing her eyes.
As his question hummed through his chest and against her ear, Charlotte shook her head, eyes still closed. “Positive. Have to sober up before the morning,” she said, though her words began to slow and grow quieter, as if she was falling asleep in Tiz’s arms. “Have to… go to… ‘truia…” Her speech finally trailed and silenced, as did her mind for the first time since that night at the count’s manor.
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Post by Tiz on Jul 10, 2015 17:26:33 GMT -6
OoC: cheesy reference musicAs the consciousness faded from Myscha, Tiz stopped walking a moment to study her. Another tear rolled down his cheek as he looked at her... What a beautiful, wounded woman. It hurt him so much to look at her and know what weighed so heavily down upon her. He rubbed a finger against her head as it was cupped in his hand, sighed, and began walking again. Fortunately, she wasn't heavy, and the walk wasn't long. But he let it be long. Lost in his thoughts, Tiz walked slowly and carefully, taking in the scene around him. Here he had come to meet with a contact about matters that were, now, totally unimportant. Now that he was with her, he felt almost as if nothing held greater import. What was this? What did he feel for her? All these weeks he had tried to piece it together, not knowing what it was he was supposed to be feeling, or even what to call it. She had taken his heart, but she hadn't stomped on it... But she hadn't signed her name on it, either. Neither had he signed his name on her's, and that was even further a stretch than the first idea. He smiled to himself as he continued to walk, content for now to bask in the glory that was getting to be in her presence. But Etruria... That was so soon? He guessed it had been a while since their last talk, and that it would be about time for her to start her mission, whatever it would be. He still didn't know. He hadn't asked. He hadn't asked anything. Tiz stopped walking. As heavily as he felt for her, he knew very little about her... All he knew was her character. Of course, he realized, that's what mattered most.. But her name? Was Myscha her real name? Why had she been with the caravan that night? Who was she? Why did she need to go to Etruria, where trouble was brewing? What was going on? The young man let none of this bother him, though. He kept walking, remembering how wonderful it felt to hold her in his arms. Finally, he came upon an inn. Pushing the door open with the side of his hip, Tiz slowly stepped inside, the sleeping Myscha still in his arms. The barkeep laughed and smiled a bit as he looked at the duo, and Tiz shot an understanding smile back. What he figured was the case and what was actually going on were probably two different things, he guessed. "Large bed?" The man asked as he cleaned a mug out with a dirty rag. "...No, no. Small bed's fine. I'm... not staying. But I'll pay, don't worry." Tiz smiled weakly, gently tightening his grip around the woman. He pulled Myscha up to let her head rest against his shoulder just long enough to pull the money out to pay the man before him, then gently cupped her head again as the man lead the two up the stairs. Coming finally to a room at the end of the hall, the man opened the door and allowed Tiz, holding Myscha, to pass through. "Let me know if you need anything, alright?" The man said sweetly, offering concern for whatever it was he thought was going on. "Thanks, I promise I will." Tiz smiled at him and stepped inside, and the man shut the door behind them. Tiz sighed a heavy sigh of relief and laid Myscha gently down on the bed, declining to pull the covers out from under her to tuck her in properly. Before he did that, he had other business. The Sacaean sat down and pulled some parchment from the pouch on the back of his waist, and then turned to the provided-for quill and ink sitting beside him. Dear Myscha,
I hope this room suits you well. I wanted to stay with you, but I hadn't gotten the chance to ask, and I know what's on your mind. And I'm sorry. I know this isn't easy for you, I know none of it is. I know that these troubles weigh heavily on you, and it breaks my heart that they do. But please, don't lose hope. Go to Etruria, do your duty, live your passion, whatever it is, and please, gods, come home safely.
I am always thinking about you. And if you need anything-- ever-- write to me. Let me know. I'll be there.
-TizShort, simple, sweet. Tiz was pleased, though he hadn't quite expressed how he was feeling... And it was best. She had told him last time that this was what she wanted. Right? This was what she wanted. She wanted them to separate, so she could go on with things. He laid the letter open on the nightstand beside the bed so she could read it when she woke up. Then, slowly, he pulled the blankets out from under her and tucked her into bed. He lingered a moment, eyes fixated on her beautifully long lashes, thinking about their first night together. Eventually he turned, walked over to the door, and put his hand around the knob, trying his best to turn it. His body wouldn't let him. He tried to open the door, and Tiz couldn't do it. Tears streamed slowly down his face, one, then another, then two more, until they flowed only slightly less intensely than they had before. He couldn't just leave her here like this... Could he? Knowing he might never see her again? In all of his time with her, he had always been able to tell himself at the end that yes, he would find her again. But this time... he wasn't sure. His heart didn't leap out of his chest to tell him that this wasn't their last meeting. Hand still on the knob, he looked back at her, soundly asleep. What if this was it. "Damn it," Tiz breathed quietly, taking his hand away from the knob. He walked back over to her, took his boots off, his pauldron, and his sleeveless blue tunic, leaving his pants and cream undershirt on. He slipped soundlessly into the bed behind her, wrapping his right arm around her, putting his head gently behind hers, smelling both the alcohol and the beautiful natural smell her hair carried with it. He blew out the light, forgot about the letter on the nightstand, and fell asleep, sleeping better than he had in weeks.
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Post by Charlotte on Jul 10, 2015 21:07:23 GMT -6
Standing in the middle of the count’s study, Charlotte walked slowly in front of the bookcases that lined the interior wall, her hand delicately running over the worn leather spines. The gold lettering had begun to fade and peel long ago, making most of the titles unreadable, but whichever titles they were did not matter. Charlotte had not come to this place to partake in the tomes and novels of old.
A long, beautiful gown graced her figure; a robin’s eggl blue, embroidered skirt billowed from her high waist to the floor below, with a small belt cinching the empire waist to accentuate the curve of her body. Fitted sleeves covered her arms, and a square collar displayed her collarbone and a delicate gold necklace, but no hint of her breast besides the curves beneath the fabric. A waterfall of golden hair cascaded down her back, with some pieces braided amongst the waves and curls. She truly was a vision of noble beauty, of an age of fashion long since past.
The creak of warped wood moving on its hinge caught the young woman’s attention, calling her to turn her gaze. A tall, spindly man entered the room, his face wrinkled and spotted from many a year in Elibe. Charlotte smiled as he walked to her, though her smile faded as he placed his hands at her waist, tangling his hands into her long hair. He leaned over her shoulder, submerging his face into a handful of her carefully curated locks, breathing in deeply while holding her close. She did not enjoy the closeness, but she did not pull away.
“My lord, please, you shouldn’t.” He did not need her, instead grasping at her tighter, his hand in her hair gripping tightly, pulling her neck back as he buried his head into her neck; his lips grazed her skin, and he breathed a sickly warmth on her, causing her to shudder. Charlotte struggled against him, trying to pull away but unable to break his strong grasp. “Please, let me go!”
“You know Victoria,” the count’s old voice sounded from behind her neck, “we aren’t so different. In fact,” he breathed, pulling her head back hard, his face having turned to the assassin’s, his voice morphing to the silver-haired would be killer’s sickly tone, “you’re just like me!”
Charlotte cried out, trying to push the man away just as a great explosion rocked the room, throwing the two across the study and careening into one of the bookcases. The man’s body landed atop hers as book pages rained down from the shelves above, some already burning to a crisp as they fell to the ornate rugs under them. Charlotte could barely move for a moment, but a tight pain pushing into her chest forced her to push the man from on top of her.
The man’s lifeless body flopped beside her, her iron dagger in his chest. Charlotte again yelled, though she heard nothing but ringing; her front was stained with blood, the light blue tainted by the man’s crimson life force. Scrambling to her feet, the blonde tried to run from the room, only to find herself stopped by guards. They fiercely took her by her arms, dragging her away as she protested. “Please, I didn’t do anything!”
“You killed the count,” a familiar voice sounded, his voice so much like Rogus’. Before she could say anything else, they were in a dark room; there was black all around the blonde, and she was tied to a chair that she sat on, still in her bloodied gown. She tried to break her arm bindings, but the tightly bound ropes simply burned against her skin.
Suddenly a hand grabbed her cheeks, forcing her to turn and face a helmeted guard. “You failed at your mission,” another familiar voice sounded, this time that of the teal-haired operative. Saturos had saved her before, could he save her now?
“Please, I’ve done nothing wrong,” the blonde almost sobbed, though she was only allowed for a moment before she felt her long locks pulled on again, this time held taut by another guard who spoke with Simon’s voice.
“You brought this on yourself, you know,” he hissed, pulling the bloodied iron dagger from behind him, “maybe if you didn’t spend your time whoring around and drinking you could focus. I can help with that.” He brought the dagger down on her hair, cutting the locks and letting them fall to the ground. Sobs finally broke the woman’s failing composure as someone kicked her chair over, causing her to crash into the ground, her left arm bending too far in the wrong direction with a sickening crack.
Her body was wracked with pain, with weeping, until another hand was on her face, though it cupped her her cheek instead of forcefully grabbing it. Opening her eyes, she saw Tiz, his eyes warm and pure for the briefest moment before a sharp pain came to her chest accompanied by a hard push. Looking down she saw his hand holding the same iron dagger that had killed the assassin, cut her hair, that was now buried into her chest. She looked back up, eyes unbelieving as Tiz’s gentle eyes shifted to anger, distaste, hate, as the pain consumed her...
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Charlotte was a fairly heavy sleeper after partaking in a few more drinks than she should have, but her body tense and quickly shook awake, eyes snapping open and hand grasping the mattress below her as her mind tore her from her nightmare. Her breath was quickened, sweat beaded on her forehead, and her body was burning underneath the covers, not to mention with the warm body she had next to her, that had just shifted his arm around her slightly as she woke..
Oh, it had been one of those nights, had it? Charlotte couldn’t remember anything past the tavern she’d been in just a hour before sunset, so she’d clearly drunk too much, too fast. When she’d first left the Isles, the woman had a bad habit of drinking like this and ending up in bed with men she didn’t know. It had been a long time since this had happened, but considering the night before…
But after a moment, Charlotte realized her clothes were still very much on her body, not littered about the room. For a moment she wondered if she’d simply redressed afterwards, but she didn’t feel the tell-tale signs of soreness that should have been there. Who was this man, that he had spent the night with her without the want or need for intimacy?
Turning her head slightly while trying not to move the man too much, Charlotte was shocked to see none other than Tizato Ciel asleep beside her, his arms wrapped around her and a peaceful look on his face. She was in Santaruz, was she not? What was the man doing here, with her? How in the world had he found her? She hadn’t told him anything about where she was headed to, so how... how had she ended up sleeping in a bed with him?
Holding her breath, Charlotte turned away from the man again, which was when she spotted what looked like a folded parchment on the nightstand. Desperate to know how in the world this had come to be, the blonde carefully reached out for the letter, trying hard not to wake Tiz as he again shifted on the bed. She paused for a moment until he stopped moving again, allowing her to lift the folded letter from the table and open it.
While the light in the room was limited, Charlotte had grown used to reading with poor lighting. And yet, she wished she couldn’t have read it. Her eyes widened with horror as she read. It was clear she had met Tiz while blacked-out. But what troubles had she shared with him? When had she told him she was going to Etruria? What else had she told him that she didn’t remember?
Body shaking just as it had when she woke, Charlotte couldn’t stay laying in bed any longer. She rose quickly but immediately found herself doubled over the nightstand as a searing, knee-buckling ache consumed her head; here was the hangover she should have felt the moment she woke. She gasped, trying to keep moving but instead finding herself immobilized, her stumble from the bed having knocked the light from the nightstand with a loud clatter.
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Post by Tiz on Jul 10, 2015 21:28:49 GMT -6
"M..Mmm... Muh?"
Tiz's eyes opened slowly, heavily, the sleep still present in both his mind and body. He had to force his eyelids open, despite the loud crashing noise that shattered his sweet dreams and forced him back into focus, bringing his body back into full reality. When he realized what was going on, it was far too late for him to step in and do anything.
Once his vision was no longer blurry, and his eyes became alive and fixed on the woman that had doubled over in pain, Tiz smiled sheepishly and leaped out of bed to steady her, one hand on her stomach gently and the other on her back in an attempt to keep her from falling. He ignored the nightstand for the time being, that he would no doubt have to pay for. He could cross that bridge later.
At first his gaze was soft and friendly, expecting that the hangover was what was causing her pain, but as he looked at her eyes, focused away from him, his gaze quickly became serious. "Myscha. Myscha!" She looked detached, afraid, wracked by grief and fear and worry about... What? About what? Tiz's curiosity was through the roof; he had no idea how in the world she had come to be so intensely afflicted; he wondered what had caused it, and then the thought hit him like a strong, horse-driven caravan.
Had she forgotten it all?
He would ask that later. For now, he was worried that she might vomit all over everything, or at the worst, sprint out of the room for fear of not knowing what was going on. As Tiz considered the possibility of her having forgotten what had happened, all of the possible outcomes of this situation became exponentially worse.
Rubbing her back gently, Tiz spoke softly and in a calm, soothing tone. "Listen, it's alright. Everything is okay. Just take a minute and breathe; you're all right. We're in an inn in Santaruz, do you remember coming here with me? Last night?"
He almost laughed to himself, but was incredibly worried that he'd crossed six million and a half boundaries. Part of him said to bolt out while he could, before she fell apart, but he knew that his heart would keep him her, tied to her until he could get some answers, at the very least.
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Post by Charlotte on Jul 10, 2015 22:43:56 GMT -6
Charlotte groaned, eyes clamped shut as the pain from the migraine turned her vision white for a moment; she’d never had a headache this bad before, and if she’d slept the hangover shouldn’t have been this bad. Whatever the case, she could barely stay on her feet, her whole body quivering with pain, confusion, and fear. Her mind never failed her, not since her more foolish days at least; so while she was glad it wasn’t anyone else seeing her lose her composure for a moment, she was unnerved.
As soon as Tiz wrapped his arms around her in a side-embrace, the blonde pushed her forehead into his shoulder as hard as she could, trying to find relief for the searing headache, even if it was only for a moment. Her inability to recall the events of the night previous, paired with her harrowing nightmare and the appearance of the Sacaen ma, had the blonde beside herself. She wanted to run, to get out of this room and be anywhere but here, but she wouldn’t have made it more than two steps.
The hand rubbing her back lulled her just a bit, just long enough to open her eyes and look up at the man holding her on her feet. So she was in Santaruz still, so she hadn’t ended up in another city or village nearby - Charlotte could be thankful for that. But she’d come here with Tiz? How had that come to be? She strained to remember something, anything, but her mind was blank, unable to recall a single detail from what she assumed spanned a decent part of her night.
The migraine worsening, Charlotte shut her eyes again, tears at the corners of her eyes from the pain. “No, I don’t! I don’t remember!” She said loudly, wanting to make sure she could hear what she was saying herself. a hand grasped at the man’s undershirt, clenching the fabric in between her fingers before determining she needed to sit back down. Breaking from his hold, she tremulously fell back onto the bed, keeping her feet on the ground and bending her torso over until her head was at her knees. Breathing slowly, blood rushed to her head, bringing a great internal thump that echoed through her, but it was better than the white-hot pain that clawed from behind her eyes and temples.
“Whatever I said to you last night, you have to forget it,” Charlotte said, her voice frustrated and still harried. “As if I never said anything at all. And if someone comes to you, asking if you know me or anything of me, you don’t.” Her tone came across rather strong for someone who was handling a blistering headache, but the momentary relief allowed enough reprieve for her to provide her instruction. It was clear the open, sharing Charlie from the night had gone with the sunrise, leaving the more judicious Myscha to cover her tracks.
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Post by Tiz on Jul 11, 2015 7:24:18 GMT -6
As quickly as he'd been up to brace her, Tiz stepped back, allowing Myscha to fall back onto the bed. Not knowing what to do, where to go, or what to say, Tiz took a scared, cautionary step back. She was volatile right now, he guessed, and anything he said needed to be weighed carefully-- he wasn't good at doing this, because he normally spoke so freely, but in these moments, he wasn't sure what would pass for okay and what might be offensive to Myscha-- or, more appropriately, what might just be the wrong thing to say, in the wrong place, at the wrong time.
She said she didn't remember. If she didn't, that made him a stranger, someone who had taken her to bed, albeit innocently, without consent and without her knowledge of what happened. It put him in thin ice, he was sure, and it built the tension in the room almost to a breaking point. It was made worse by her callously telling him to forget it, to ignore it, and to pretend like he knew nothing about her. Where was all of this coming from? Was it the headache, or was it the fact that...
Oh no. Tiz's eyes dashed over to the fallen nightstand, and he saw his letter. Damn it, he'd forgotten to toss that... This could've been made a lot easier if he'd just trashed it before coming back to sleep. But now, she knew that he had intent to leave, and then didn't. This was bad, Tiz thought. This was very, very bad. Slowly, the man bent down, collected his letter, read over it once, regretted having ever written it, and tossed it aside, into the trash bin, where he hoped it would stay forever. He clenched his teeth as she spoke, her words wounding him like a frightened animal.
Suddenly, Tiz slammed a closed fist down on the table by which he stood. It rocked the table, and knocked over a chair that was touching the table. The cutlery shook and rattled, and the look in his green eyes went from worrisome and inquisitive to hurt and defensive. He kept his fist, clenched white, atop the table, declining at least at first to go sit by her and run her back.
"Damn it Myscha, no! I won't!" He began, the tone in his voice careful, but determined, fierce. "I-I'll keep your name safe, and if anyone asks, I'll... I'll protect what I know, I promise, but... Damn it! You can't do that! You can't ask me to forget! I can't forget you! I can't forget what you told me! I can't forget any of it, because now that you've invested part of yourself in me, I refuse to lose that! I won't do it!"
His teeth were clenched hard, and his jaw felt stiff and tight. He looked down, and suddenly his gaze lost its hurt, its defensiveness, and his jaw let loose. His green eyes fell to the floor at her feet and his eyelids drooped. "I finally... know something about you, something big. I know something about your core, something more about your heart, and I... I won't give that up. I can't..." He slumped back carelessly, falling into the remaining chair that still stood on four legs beside him. He held his head in his hands, making his eyes stay dry for the first time since seeing her the night before. "I want to be let in so badly, and I just... Now that you've let me in, even if you don't remember, I have to hold onto this... Please..."
He shook his head while holding it, wondering what he was going to do. He had to honor her wishes. He always had, and he would continue to do so... Right? Could he? Tiz wasn't sure, and his body was wracked with grief.
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Post by Charlotte on Jul 11, 2015 9:02:47 GMT -6
“Damnit, Tiz, you don’t get it, do you?!” Charlotte’s hoarse voice burst from her as she whipped her gaze up to look at the man. Honestly, she didn’t care that the man had stayed with her, that she’d even met him the night previous, but what tore her apart was her carelessness in confiding in him, for two reasons. One, she was placing herself in danger by someone else knowing where she was going, hell, probably why she was going too. And two, the fact that if Tiz refused to ‘forget’ about the night previous, whatever had been said, he was putting himself in danger, all because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut when she drank.
The pain still blinding, Charlotte pushed her forefinger and thumb into her temples, providing relief long enough for her to keep her gaze on him. “This isn’t a request,” she pleaded, the words that Saturos had told her after escaping from the Isles ringing through her mind. “There are people, powerful people out there, looking for me, because of things I’ve done. They aren’t good people, Tiz; they want to kill me, and if they can’t do that they’ll just do anything they can to hurt the people I know, the people I c-…”
Charlotte stopped herself abruptly, knowing she couldn’t dare say aloud she cared for the man’s well-being. This was already unfair to him, but saying that would only make all of this worse. She paused, breathing in through her nose, out through her mouth as she tried to taper the headache. She’d need water to truly finish the job, but for now, she could at least see straight again.
“That’s why I have to go to Etruria. I have to fix things, Tiz, but there’s no guarantee I can.” She stopped, sighing as she shook her head, still leaned over her knees as she sat on the edge of the bed. “And if I don’t, you’d be one of the people they’d try to find, and I won’t let anyone else be hurt on my accord. I can’t.”
The blonde grew silent, wracking her memory again for any tidbit she might be able to recall, to remember. But the most she could recall was being in the tavern, then a brilliant kaleidoscope of colors, a buzz in her ear, and then being here. Nothing that told her what he knew, which begged her to ask.
“What did I tell you last night?” Charlotte sounded defeated, tired, worried for what might happen now that he did know whatever it was he wanted to hold so close to him, likely to remind himself she wasn’t this enigma she had turned herself into. To remind himself why he cared about her; he wanted to be part of her life so badly, but Charlotte knew better; when the Inquisition was after you, even if you were in their ranks, trying to make your errors disappear, not you, nor anyone you knew, was safe. She just needed to know she wasn’t going to hurt the man, destroy his life from something she’d done, and the only way she saw for that to happen… was for him to forget.
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Post by Tiz on Jul 19, 2015 12:57:11 GMT -6
Tiz watched through pensive, almost cold eyes, as the woman's outburst barely flooded the room, the weak yet fervent shrills shaking the walls, as well as the feelings inside of him. Whatever this was, whatever trouble she was in, it wasn't a joke. It was desperate and serious and life-threatening, and now, Tiz could tell that. His eyes stayed trained on hers as hers stayed on his, and his look, while not necessarily venomous, was detached and seemingly aloof, despite the unwavering, unblinking stare. It was as if he was watching a dream occur, as if these events weren't really happening to him. With his arms crossed, Tiz sighed heavily.
And then, all of a sudden, the look failed. His eyes slowly closed shut, his lashes came together, and a soft, gentle grin spread across his face. A few of his teeth showed through his grin, and he unfolded his arms, walked back to the bed, and sat down beside the woman. He was close enough to touch her, and yet he chose not to. He folded his hands over his knees, staring down at them, studying the marks that battle had written across his knuckles, his calloused fingers. He too had known pain, of course, but perhaps not like her. Perhaps his diligence was wrong. Perhaps, after all of this, it would be best to forget, for both of their safety.
But then, he thought, maybe not.
"No.." Tiz began, slowly, softly, glancing over at Myscha for but a brief moment, the light and life flickering in and out of his bright green eyes. "I don't think I get it." His smile stayed soft, and he looked back down at his hands. "We're all born with the curse that we will, someday, carry burdens. Life is great, spectacular, magical-- it is the only beautiful thing in this world that cannot be tainted by the dark-- life goes on, babies are born, children grow up, people get married and make families despite all the terrible things that fate has in store. When people die, we mourn, then we celebrate, and we move on. When we mess up, we pick ourselves up, strap our burdens back on, and continue forth, knowing that someday, something beautiful awaits us. Around the corner, in a tavern, at the altar, and sometimes even around the street, down an alley next to tavern. Sometimes in a church. Sometimes in a room in an inn." He smiled at the woman, looking at her again with soft, caring eyes, then back towards the wall on the far end.
"But no one ever said that the burdens we were cursed with are meant to be carried alone. Your problem, if you have one, is that you're quick to push me away. And you know what? I'll let you." He stood up, wheeled about, faced her, and got down on his knees, becoming eye level with her. His gaze was fierce, trained, but not angry. "If you want me gone, tell me again. Look me in the eyes and tell me you want me gone for good, and if I ever see you again, as much as it will break my heart, I will walk away from you."
He allowed a few moments of silence, as his words sunk into his own heart. It would be really difficult...
"...But that will not stop me from fighting for you. If someone comes for you, I'm not going to let them find you. I'm not going to separate myself from you simply because you're afraid for me." He smiled, almost jokingly. "I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself."
Tiz stood and walked back over to the table. He crossed his arms, sighed detachedly, and looked out the window. "People are beautiful because they're able to care for one another. And caring for you means I'm going to fight for you, in whatever way that means. If that means fighting for your secrecy, your isolation, then I'll do it. But that's not the way I want to fight for you." He turned back towards her.
"Last night you told me about the man you killed. I shared some words, but they don't mean anything now. It doesn't matter. What matters is..." He paused to swallow, and he looked away from her, biting his lip. "What matters is that it's done, and you have to pick yourself up and breathe. You have to go find whatever it is you're searching for, and you have to do your job, and you have to fight another day. You have to keep breathing another day. And damn it, you have to come back. You have to come back to Laus."
Tiz reached behind him to the pouch on the back of his waist and pulled out a small, chained pendant. He held the thing in his palm, letting the rose golden chain fall down below his hand as he caressed the small, sun-shaped charm that hung around it. It had been given to him when he was young, by his mother, with a note-- something about always maintaining the light, searching for happiness... Something cheesy. He smiled as he though about it, then set the pendant down on the table behind him.
"When you go, I want you to take that. When you're feeling dark, or wounded, or-or afraid, or anything... Pull it out and hold it in your hand. Remember that somewhere, waiting, there is always a light spot. There is always something that shines forth and breaks the darkness. My mother gave it to me and told me something similar, but I... Never put a lot of stock in just a necklace," the Sacaean laughed, looking at the charm, then back to the woman.
"But hold onto it. And bring it back to me. I'm not through with it."
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Post by Charlotte on Jul 22, 2015 11:58:46 GMT -6
Charlotte could tell as the man listened to her that he was drawing away - whether it was intentional or not, she didn’t know, but it was clear from his gaze, his stance, his composure. The blonde was at wits end, and while her fervor didn’t pierce Tiz’s features, the severity of the situation had. Might he have finally realized she wasn’t worth the trouble, the heartache that would inevitably come from his interest in her?
No, it was clear he hadn’t. The grin that always seemed to come back to him graced his features again as he came over to the bed, sitting next to her. The initially searing headache had begun to subside - albeit slowly - allowing her enough relief to straighten up her torso fully. She still had to keep a hand had her temples, fingers applying enough pressure to keep the throbbing at bay. It was a challenge to focus as he started to speak again, but Charlotte did her best.
The beautiful life Tiz described - one with loving families, friends, people all around - was a foreign concept to Charlotte. Sure, she wasn’t a fool; she knew those kinds of lives of course existed, but fate hadn’t afforded that kind of life for her. She’d never known a mother or father or siblings, never knew what it was like to have a place to truly call home. She didn’t have family to celebrate or mourn over, not even in the ‘extended’ sense. It was something Charlotte could only know through hearsay, those beautiful moments that Tiz spoke so emphatically about; Charlotte only saw the reality fate had given her, and there was nothing remotely beautiful about it.
He truly didn’t understand, did he, Charlotte thought as Tiz kneeled in front of her, imploring again for her to confirm she wanted him gone. But could she? The fact was, the man was good company. She enjoyed what time she’d spent with him - barring the conversations like this, of course - but was that enough to justify keeping contact, breaking the rules she’d set for herself and others to ensure she would be safe? While she couldn’t say yes, she couldn’t say no either, so she simply stayed silent, averting her eyes until the man stood.
It was comforting to know he would protect her identity if anyone ever came to him looking for her, but at the same time, the way he said it... implied there was more than just a simple infatuation driving his feeling, something she hadn’t heard in his voice until now. How did he want to fight for her? And gods, why did he want to, especially when she’d told him what she’d done? How could he hope for her to come back to Laus, when that murder was just the tip of the iceberg to all of the terrible things she had done?
Charlotte watched closely as he pulled the rose gold necklace from his pouch, setting it on still-upright table across from the bed. She wasn’t sure if she could take something like that, something that clearly belonged in his family, and especially if he wanted it back. What if she didn’t come back? What if this was the last time they ever met, for one reason or another? There was no telling if or when she’d be able to leave the Inquisitional Intelligence.
But after a moment, the blonde stood - shakily at first - and moved slowly over to the table, reaching out and letting her fingers graze over the warm metal of the pendant before picking it up in her hand, holding it in her outstretched palm. It was simple but beautifully crafted - like a beautiful Sacaen sunrise the man’s mother could have seen over those rolling plains long ago. She’d only been on those plains once or twice - she’d like to go back one day, though.
Closing her hand around the chained charm, Charlotte looked up to Tiz, brow furrowed and lips pursed. “Be honest with me,” she started, though a request like that was laughable coming from a woman like her. “What do you expect to come from all this? You say you’re willing to protect me… but do you really know what that could entail? How can you expect to if someone comes and threatens your life to know where I am? Will you just kill him like you did the guard at the border?” She didn’t know what she wanted the man to say, but she had an inkling of what he might say - but she hoped what she thought was wrong.
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Post by Tiz on Jul 22, 2015 12:19:09 GMT -6
As the woman leaned in to take the charm he'd offered, Tiz watched her. She didn't seem hesitant, and she rubbed over the thing as though it meant something to her just like it did to him. He smiled softly to himself as he thought of what it had meant to him all these years, and thought fondly of the day when he would pass it down to Arno, his toddler brother. He thought about all the times that charm had helped him when his spirits were low, when it felt to him like the sun wasn't out... He could always take it out and be reminded that somewhere, someone loved him. Somewhere, no matter where Tiz was, his family was thinking of him and wishing for his safety. He sighed, looking away from Myscha as she began to speak to him, an inquisitive-looking gaze fixed upon her face.
"Hm." Tiz smiled sheepishly, hopped up on the table to sit upon it, and rested his feet in the seat of the chair below him. He rested his arms across his knees and finally turned to face her. "You know..." he began slowly, as if to tell another exciting story. He had a way of speaking that always seemed to make light of even serious situations; oftentimes, it helped him diffuse situations, but most times, it made him seem aloof and disinterested in the severity of his conversations. It wasn't, of course, his intention to do so-- his lighthearted nature was supposed to be a boon, but could very often be the opposite. He rarely thought of such things; it was easier to be positive when you could act the part as well as speak it.
"In all the years I've wandered this tattered globe, I've come to learn that expectations are fruitless." Tiz rested his chin in the palm of his hand and studied over the woman, who now looked slightly more composed... Slightly like she had when they'd initially met. Defensive, careful, but focused. "I'd say that if I expect anything, I expect everything. No use pining over what could be, when I can instead focus on what is, right?" He shot her a bright, authentic smile. Finally, he looked away from her and back out towards the window. As she asked about his kill, it became clear to him. As much as he resented himself for it, he had become desensitized to taking life... When he thought long and hard, of course, it was hard for him to swallow the fact that he'd sent a number of souls to hell, but in the moments where he needed to protect someone, he never thought of it. It was easy now for him, after all the years in the League, to be a killing machine if he needed to be. And it made him sad.
"I don't know what it could entail, you're right. And maybe I'm being naive, you know? Maybe, maybe it's wrong of me to think and feel this way, but I..." He shook his head, eyes still focused on the sun rising outside the window. It reminded him of the charm that Myscha would take with her. "I just can't... let go of this. Of you."
He slowly looked back to her, his eyes having grown sad, but just for a moment, before looking down at his feet in the chair. "...I am a defender of the peace. That's what we were told in the League. But that title would seem to imply that we don't do the hunting, right? But I guess there are no rights and wrongs in war. Battle is battle, and my enemy is as much a victim of circumstance as I am. I guess if it came down to it," he smiled, as if he were about to tell a joke, "I would have to choose your life over mine."
"Someday, maybe you'll understand why it's so important to have a big heart for those who feel themselves beyond redemption." Tiz looked at her again, his gaze soft and trained. "I don't take lives lightly. What happened at the border... I wasn't going to give him the chance to do us, to do you, any more harm. I know you can handle yourself, but I just... it was tough. It was an impulse. I couldn't..." He shook his head and bit his lip. "I couldn't focus on anything except the thought of you getting hurt."
Suddenly, Tiz laughed a fake sort of laugh that he hoped would keep him guarded. He was terrible at staying guarded. He hopped off the table and stood beside her, closing her fingers around the pendant. He held her hand between the two of his and looked at her blue eyes. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. If someone actually threatened my life, demanding your whereabouts... Well, I have definitely been in tougher spots." He cocked his head slightly to the side and smiled at her again.
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Post by Charlotte on Jul 24, 2015 12:28:27 GMT -6
Charlotte watched carefully and deliberately as Tiz responded, listening past her pounding headache and truly trying to understand where he was coming from. He was so optimistic – a ray of light in the darkness Charlotte was so used to surviving in. Even after all this, after everything she’d said to him and put him through, he was still here in this room with her, telling her he wanted to hold onto whatever this was. If there was anything she had to admire the man for, it was his resilience – while it was misplaced at times, not many people could or would deal with all of this.
It was strange for Charlotte to listen the man talk about things he’d learned in the League. She of course knew he’d been enlisted, but she wasn’t used to viewing the man through that looking glass. His view of battle was one many soldiers held, largely as a coping mechanism for the grievous actions they were committing. Battles that had escalated many times from slipups in the courts, or an assassination gone wrong, or a job poorly done. So much death could be prevented if the proper actions were taken beforehand, if the right things were positioned to the right people. If men were swayed to the right decisions.
She was surprised when Tiz said he’d choose her life over his. The revelation brought a tightness to her chest, made her head pound just a bit harder, her eyes faltering for just a moment, becoming soft yet muddled. Charlotte was a woman who didn’t think she needed protecting – in fact, the very idea bothered her, as much as Saturos saving her in the Isles had bothered her. But the way the man spoke... even though he knew she was capable, he didn’t care. He still wanted to make the fact that he would do these things for her known, even if he didn’t want her to.
As he moved and closed her hand around the pendant, in between his warm, calloused ones, Charlotte looked up, her eyes again failing her, losing the stoic determination she so often relied on. There was no reason for her to worry, was there? The man was a soldier, clearly skilled with a blade, and had been through more than most in Elibe. He was capable, just as she was, but she couldn’t help but feel herself hesitate, her breath baited as she wanted to question his ability. Even as he reassured her, she was still wary; it was almost impossible for her to trust that he’d be fine, especially after tangling with her.
As she stood in silence in front of Tiz, Charlotte briefly thought back to something he’d told her earlier, that she needed to come back to Laus. Could she come back, knowing he was there, knowing this amalgamation of confusion and emotion awaited her upon her arrival? Could she risk having the man believe any good could come of this – even if some already had? She could not deny that Fate had played a strange hand in the two of them meeting, both for the first time and the times afterwards – but what was the purpose of all this? Ever since Simon, the thought of pursuing... whatever this was, had always been strictly off the table, nothing but a passing thought. Could that ever change? Would she want it to after she left Etruria?
Suddenly, Charlotte moved her hand from between his, though still keeping the charmed necklace in her closed palm, and she wrapped her arms around the man in an embrace. While she’d done well to not do so in the past with Tiz, Charlotte was used to bridging uncomfortable situations with physicality and did so on many occasions, with clients and colleagues alike. It was part of her lack of personal space, she presumed, that had only seemed to crop up as of late around this man, whom she tried to keep so distant from her for both of their sakes. But her cheek against his rising chest, arms wrapped around to his back, she found some comfort, some relief from everything that was plaguing her – the assassination, her murder, ‘them.’
After a long moment, the blonde pulled back slightly, though a smile did not grace her face – rather, pensive eyes bored back up at the Sacaen. “Thank you... for everything. No matter what, I’ll make sure it makes it back to you,” she said in reference to the charm that still sat firmly in her closed right hand. She did her best to remain as impersonal as possible, but she couldn’t, not after all this.
“Hopefully I can be the one to bring it back to you.” Charlotte almost wanted to take the words back the moment she said them, though only for her own sake. Her head pounding harder now, she slipped her arms from around his back, slipping the pendant into a small pocket on her person. She paused, moving over the small waste bin and picking up the letter Tiz had written, looking over it once.
“Your handwriting’s better than I’d have imagined,” she commented cheekily before pocketing the letter, throwing him one more passing glance before moving for the door.
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Post by Tiz on Jul 24, 2015 12:46:31 GMT -6
The man could do little else but shut his eyes and smile gently. He felt the warmth of the woman's body against his, and as fluidly as she moved into him, he responded, reaching a hand up to cradle her head against him. He set his chin atop the crown of her head and rested his other arm around the small of her back, keeping her gently pinned to him. With his eyes closed he could almost feel himself watching the scene from afar, as if he could see the two of them together from the window, from the door, a moment so fierce and permanent in his mind that he knew he wouldn't forget it. There were some embraces that lasted, and some that didn't-- and there were some that became so etched into the heart, they became part of the core.
This was the most latter. This was an etching.
Tiz sighed softly, playing with her hair until she pulled back from him, looking him in the eye. He mimicked her visual attitude, taking an expression quite like hers, allowing the blue and green hues in their eyes to dance about feverishly in the small space of air between the two of them. He let go of her head, but declined to let go of her waist until she pulled away and walked to the bin in which he had tossed his letter.
With an extremely quaint tone of assuredness and determination, Tiz spoke softly across the gap between them. "You will be the one to return it to me." He smiled, following her with his eyes with a greater ease than he had been able to since their meeting. It was as though some wall had been torn down, another in the set of barriers that Myscha had put between them. He hadn't noticed inherently that he'd done anything to further that aim, but things seemed... Less tense. Regardless of the fact that they were both accepting that she could very well die wherever she was going, there seemed to be a relative calmness, a genuine bond, that held the atmosphere of the room together in what seemed to Tiz to be friendly and romantic, hopeful and longing. Was he wrong?
With the smile growing wider, he hoped he wasn't wrong. "After all, it's a family heirloom. If anything, the spirits will guide you back. Because if you don't give it back, you'll be sent straight to hell, I'm sure." The tone in his voice, the joke he let free-- these two things hadn't been present between the two of them since their very first encounter in the courtyard that night, when Dak had come to pay his visit, when she had called him attractive, when they had gone to bed together. And not once since then had he felt such ease.
He chuckled again as she walked towards the doorway. Tiz wasn't sure he was comfortable with her taking letter, but as her fingers wrapped around the crumbled parchment, he felt himself let go of it, to allow it to go with her. Whatever it meant to her, it was okay. Whatever piece of him she would take, he would let her. No matter what.
As she went towards the door, Tiz quickened and in a mere couple steps he was behind her, like a ghost flying from the window, following the breeze to be right behind her. He grabbed her wrist sharply before she hit the door. And in this moment, there were so many things Tiz could say. So many things he wanted to say. So many things he could do. He could hold her again, he could kiss her again, he could keep her another hour for something more engaging than even that, he could do literally anything and say whatever was on his heart. He could tell her that he was going after Dak three nights from the current day, potentially not to return.
And despite all the opportunities he had, he wheeled Myscha around. The gentle smile on Tiz's face was as authentic as any had ever come from him to her. From Tiz to Myscha. His eyes were soft, caring, calm, and above all, at ease. He could die... She could die. And yet, somehow, the sun charm in her pocket promised him that she, at least, would be able to come back alive.
And so, he didn't mention Dak. He didn't pursue what he expected she didn't want. Instead, he said two words with a softness that rivaled that of a father telling his son goodnight. "Be careful."
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