[Her eyes turn away. A small part of him wishes she didn't, but all the better to drown in this glass, he supposes. It's ridiculous. They can't be the same.]
[They can't, they can't, they can't.]
That's true. We're not special. The City grinds us down no matter what kind of bird we are.
[The Wings stand above all, after all. What's the use for a proper bird, or two?]
Anything, really. We're responsible for the birds that can't fly, because their wings have been clipped, because they're waterlogged, because they don't think they can leave the pond they sit stagnate on...
[ she trails off, then takes her glass up again for a lack of anything to do and sips at it again. long, thoughtless sips. maybe her words are a bit slower in that way drink ebbs at you, the way it had beneath blossoming trees, but she awake as she focuses across the room. two bands are better than one. ]
Don't you think you're opening a path for those sinners of yours? You're their guide, after all. Maybe they can't see the way to go... the pond they're sitting in might be dammed, or has a small opening they can't find... but you know the flow. You know the way, even if they're the ones who have to choose to go down it themselves.
[ that's flow, you choose to go or you don't; inevitable as it is, either you follow the river or the river swells until it drowns you. that's what she's thinking, picturing. easier that than herself on the dance floor she wants to join, tucked against someone she does or doesn't know.
[In a way, he's always known about that. But there's one flow he follows. And there's a flow that weighs heavy on his shoulders. A flow he still, somehow, wants to follow along, even if it leads to a bloody, horrific conclusion. A realization of a dream.]
[But here, he sits. She's right. It's all his contract, of course, and it binds him in ways he hates. He wants to do more. He could do more. He's not allowed to...do more.]
[He takes a last swig of his drink, finishing it off, and his own eyes follow the dancing couples. Vergilius is silent for a long moment, knowing he's never deserving to join them. That City, rotten as ever, would never be changed. He only can focus on his Sinners for now. He has to think about Charon, Garnet.]
[It all feels so, so, helpless. Maybe he has a taste of what she's been through, he thinks.]
...One would think the world would pity us for it.
They might. But I don't really care if they do or not. I let others' opinions control me for longer than I really should've.
[ some people take pride in it; others don't. she's the former. but it's come from untold suffering, from reinforced will, and she looks down into the rest of her drink before she tips it back to finish it off. ]
... I think I found a new favorite drink thanks to you, Mr. Gaze! And a new place to go.
[Free from tethers. Maybe in this place, the glimpse of a future like that is possible.]
[He lets out a low sigh, sliding his glass back onto the counter. He's not drunk like he was before, but its hazy, now. It makes everything feel a little out of reach.]
If you like it, that's fine, I suppose... [And a nod back to the dance floor.] Maybe you'll find someone to bring here who will do that with you, too.
[ ... mm. a thoughtful tilt of her head, but it's more like a body lean she catches herself on the stool next to her with so she doesn't fall off. ]
Though even if you don't have two left feet, I think I would right now -- not that I've danced before, but Kaito said he'd be my partner to learn one when the next class opened up... There's a lot more people on that dance floor than before, and I'm pretty sure I'd bump into someone.
[ there is not, for the record, that many more people on the dance floor than when they came in. ]
[Well, there she goes...a little lean right there. The mention of Kaito makes him frown, though - wait, that guy? The name is familiar...he's remembering chocolate Jenga trolling...fuck that guy...]
[He sniffs, rolling his shoulders back.]
I'm not some expert dancer, you understand. They don't teach that in Fixer school.
[ there's not, huh... that's kind of familiar. the road had been wobbly too, hadn't it. ]
Fighting and dancing are the same. That's why... I can't say.
[ wow. she's better at keeping this secret drunk than she is sober. anyway let her... gently slide off this stool... carefully. the vague understanding that it hit like a truck, and that she shouldn't have accepted another drink tonight, is very much there. but she doesn't want to dance with someone she doesn't know, and-- ]
If we're both not experienced, then I don't feel so bad.
[ in her effort to take a hand she's more got a palm on his knee, but it's fine, she's looking up at him with her reddened face and hopeful eyes. the dance doesn't seem so bad. it's nothing fancy footwork wise, just more for couples who want an excuse to keep their hands on each other, but it is yet another experience she'd like and can't imagine who else she'd bring to a bar.
[He blinks a couple times. trying to sort his own thoughts out here. Fighting and dancing. There's something about it, perhaps. The shared experience, interweaving with one another. One leads hopefully leads to harmony and happiness, the other could potentially end in death.]
[The weight of her hand settles on her knee, and his gaze turns on her like a lighthouse.]
[What bright, shining eyes.]
[What a gaze.]
[He should say no. The fingers feel like they're burning through the fabric. He shouldn't have offered that drink. He should have forgotten all of this. He always betrays himself.]
[He bids his mouth not be a traitor, and it doesn't listen.]
Just one, [ she promises, and her hand finds his a little easier when her gaze escapes his.
just one, as she stumbles back harmlessly in her bid to pull him from his seat, to the dance floor reserved for people who aren't them, who've never killed someone or died trying. his hand is calloused in ways hers aren't, scarred, and malkuth wishes vaguely she had the time to map them out like she might the structure of a building, from foundation to the decor.
just as vaguely, she pauses and looks at his face; she remembers touching that too, now, the same lack of hesitation and buzzing mind. ]
[Her hands. In the light buzz of things, like walking into a place where the lamps a little too bright, its hard to focus on much. But her hands - they're soft, they ground him, they seem insistent on pinning this ghost that he is to reality.]
[She's so so stubborn, he thinks. A problem. He's stubborn in his ways, but she's more than determined to make him change his.]
[He is a little awkward, here, not knowing where to go and what to do. Are all eyes on them, this paiirng of monsters? That feeling passes for a moment with her observation, and he can't help it. He lets out a snort.]
Really tall. I don't know if it'll be comfortable to reach...
[ but she'll try anyway, reaching up to mimic someone else as her hands lay around his neck and she leans against him. the world stops rocking, which is nice, and she closes her eyes. vergilius is solid, grounding, and malkuth breathes out a terribly sad sigh. ]
[Her hands are laid there against him - he doesn't know what to do with his own, feeling like some fumbling wallflower as he manages to let them slip gently over her waist. This isn't a proper dance. They're really just rocking together, she and him. Living in a moment sort of alien to both of them.]
[He leans further down to allow her a better position, his voice low as he asks:]
better and worse, better for her hands and worse for her stomach as it tumbles. she shakes her head, light and still held down by the hands shackling her to him, him to her. they're weighty, but in a nice way. ]
It wasn't comfortable. It is now.
[ since he's been considerate and leaned a little, letting her fingers lock a bit more together as if sealing a dealing. physical contact, affection, is something she isn't used to, but it feels easier when her mind can't cling to it the way it might other times; it isn't something scary normally either, but it isn't something easy to give or receive.
she can tease and poke kaito like he does her, she can hug march and hold her hand like she's done before, but... for others, there's a certain boundary they need to cross themselves first. malkuth can't assume it's fine, or that they'd be welcome to it, though there's a difference in dragging someone along and--
this, something like this. her mind drifts to how she'll be dancing with kaito too once the class opens, hands touching in a different way, and if this has got her heart squeezing in a way it hasn't before-- that'll be worse, somehow, in a way she doesn't, can't think about. she remains in the moment, tilting her head up to look at vergilius and then away again just as fast. ]
I don't think I should drink around you.
[ but it's said with more of a laugh than anything serious. ]
[When was the last time he has ever danced with someone? If ever? Parties in Nests were droll events, too clingy and cloying for his tastes. He never could fit. And he never wanted to. Something like this is so novel that it almost makes him dizzy.]
[How much has he missed?]
[Well, maybe that's how it should be. His own self-hatred rises like a familiar taste of bile. He doesn't deserve this. It's not what a man like him should ever have.]
[Even so, he lingers, and he wants. He lets his own gaze settle on her even as she looks away, and wishes things didn't feel like the weight of a thousand shackles on his body.]
Well. [He murmurs.] I don't see you really complaining, though.
[ which he won't, even if he has to sack her... she made him promise that. her eyes close and she rests her head on him too, exhaling softly. malkuth thinks she could fall asleep like this. vergilius wouldn't let her (would he?) but she could, right on her two feet and held so nicely. ]
... I'll try to write something so I don't forget this time. Just in case. What was that drink called? Ginger... something or other. I like it. I'm gonna get it next time, too. Just one. I'll write that down. Do you know about the importance of-- of dipping?
[Of course she'd complain. They'd be back at it again like last time, perhaps. Her banging on his door. Him having to rub at his ear from her detailing about how he's not a gentleman. He almost feels like he's looking forward to that.]
[The pressure against his chest makes him still. There's a reckless urge to bring up a hand to place against the back of her head, keeping her against him, but he resists it mightily - there's only a twitch upwards that betrays it.]
[He shouldn't. He can't.]
[He misses that touch to his face that brought him such happiness and such despair.]
Dipping? Like what...chips? Or...dipping with dances...?
[ this isn't the type of dance you dip to, though, and realistically she knows that. on the other hand, there's support at her back and her own locked in place, loose as that lock is around his neck, and malkuth leans back a little with a giggle to see if he'll let her try. ]
There's a dramaticness to it, she says. I don't know what that means. I trust her though, even if she doesn't remember anything. Is that weird?
[The weight is shifting. He furrows his eyebrows at it, grip a little insistent to hold on, wait a moment as he tries to understand what she's wanting. A dip in a dance.]
...Not especially. There's someone I know who doesn't remember anything, either.
[Part of him is worried she'll insist on the dip as much as she can in her own Malkuth way if he doesn't give it to her. How annoying. Another part is worried since he hasn't done it before.]
[He squints, trying to remember how it goes.]
[And so, with as much gentle strength as possible, he twists her downwards, shifting her weight as he tilts her body back. It's not some grand graceful movement, but its close. He's leaning over, bangs shadowing over his face like a curtain.]
her long hair feels like it's touching the ground, even if it very much isn't. his grip is careful and strong. gentle and secure. malkuth feels weightless, heart thudded in her chest, not for the first time wondering if she likes height or just the way people lean close. ]
... Lacking flair, [ she replies airily, ] but I think I like it.
[ there won't be a "think" next time she's dipped, but the ecstatic uncertainty of alcohol makes it hard to focus on anything except how it feels, rather than how she feels about it. it's good. nice. she wishes she could study his face and hands a little longer, staring up at him with interest plain in her eyes. she won't break this time. ]
[He says - not actually offended, almost more amused by the fact she's actually offering her opinion here.]
[There's something about holding a person like this, and they trust you to do so. No fear, no worry that he might up and drop her right then and there.]
[Its probably his demons speaking, but it feels the trust is misplaced. Nobody should think like that, after everything he's done.]
[He pulls her up, then, eyes a low glimmer in the dimmed light. Back to the dance. His hands have never left her waist.]
[ very important, fingers itching for something to do and finding the short hair at the back of his neck good enough. her thumb smoothes over it, a kind of new, nervous tumbling in her gut that bubbles into another laugh as she feels his hands through the fabric of her waist now, like they'd intend to keep her here as long as possible. clinging, almost, as she is to him by necessity and want.
a sigh at the tailend of it, smile never leaving her face. malkuth wonders if he could walk back like this if she stood on his feet. ]
It sure woke me up though. [ for now. ] I like your hands. Lucky the person that gets to have them all the time, they're trustworthy.
[It's a very simple noise, that "hm". As if it could encapsulate the rush of feeling down his spine at the caress of her finger at the nape of his neck, as if it explains how suddenly conscious he is of how close she is against him.]
[He suddenly feels very, very small, skewered into this moment, wishing he was more drunk than he is than this light buzz that curses him with awareness.]
[The tips of his ears feel a little warm at the compliment.]
What are you saying? [His voice feels as rough as sandpaper.] Trustworthy? I don't have anyone who...has my hands, Miss Weiss.
[ but she's not surprised, even if there's more fixers who... are involved with each other is higher than anyone thinks. she wonders if those directors danced in the quiet of their office, their home, like this too. their books had been painful. she couldn't help but read them again and again, hod beside her, trying to understand the things they'd never felt.
not in this lifetime, barely scratching the surface of it in her first. elijah had been so young. what was she now? living the continuation of two lives, for herself, for that girl. ]
I knew a pair of Directors for a bit, [ they're still on her mind, ] who were getting married, I think it was. Before they were invited. She gained her own E.G.O. too, born from anger and love. It was lovely and scary, but it proved the impossible.
[ how terrifying, how strong, it can be. if only all the city had their own to keep them moving. ]
[And as far as he's concerned, they always will be.]
[Monsters can't hold hands with others if they're stained with blood.]
[The story about the Directors makes him close his eyes a little, rocking Malkuth back and forth a little as he thinks. An E.G.O born of anger and love.]
[Its almost like he can feel the prickling of thorns around his head.]
...That is why relationships are discouraged, you know. [His tone is dull, but with the hint of bittersweetness.] You will always lose what you come to love. This is what the City does.
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[They can't, they can't, they can't.]
That's true. We're not special. The City grinds us down no matter what kind of bird we are.
[The Wings stand above all, after all. What's the use for a proper bird, or two?]
Help each other...do what, then?
[Commiserate? What good does that do?]
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[ she trails off, then takes her glass up again for a lack of anything to do and sips at it again. long, thoughtless sips. maybe her words are a bit slower in that way drink ebbs at you, the way it had beneath blossoming trees, but she awake as she focuses across the room. two bands are better than one. ]
Don't you think you're opening a path for those sinners of yours? You're their guide, after all. Maybe they can't see the way to go... the pond they're sitting in might be dammed, or has a small opening they can't find... but you know the flow. You know the way, even if they're the ones who have to choose to go down it themselves.
[ that's flow, you choose to go or you don't; inevitable as it is, either you follow the river or the river swells until it drowns you. that's what she's thinking, picturing. easier that than herself on the dance floor she wants to join, tucked against someone she does or doesn't know.
they're the same, they are. ]
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[In a way, he's always known about that. But there's one flow he follows. And there's a flow that weighs heavy on his shoulders. A flow he still, somehow, wants to follow along, even if it leads to a bloody, horrific conclusion. A realization of a dream.]
[But here, he sits. She's right. It's all his contract, of course, and it binds him in ways he hates. He wants to do more. He could do more. He's not allowed to...do more.]
[He takes a last swig of his drink, finishing it off, and his own eyes follow the dancing couples. Vergilius is silent for a long moment, knowing he's never deserving to join them. That City, rotten as ever, would never be changed. He only can focus on his Sinners for now. He has to think about Charon, Garnet.]
[It all feels so, so, helpless. Maybe he has a taste of what she's been through, he thinks.]
...One would think the world would pity us for it.
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[ some people take pride in it; others don't. she's the former. but it's come from untold suffering, from reinforced will, and she looks down into the rest of her drink before she tips it back to finish it off. ]
... I think I found a new favorite drink thanks to you, Mr. Gaze! And a new place to go.
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[Free from tethers. Maybe in this place, the glimpse of a future like that is possible.]
[He lets out a low sigh, sliding his glass back onto the counter. He's not drunk like he was before, but its hazy, now. It makes everything feel a little out of reach.]
If you like it, that's fine, I suppose... [And a nod back to the dance floor.] Maybe you'll find someone to bring here who will do that with you, too.
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[ ... mm. a thoughtful tilt of her head, but it's more like a body lean she catches herself on the stool next to her with so she doesn't fall off. ]
Though even if you don't have two left feet, I think I would right now -- not that I've danced before, but Kaito said he'd be my partner to learn one when the next class opened up... There's a lot more people on that dance floor than before, and I'm pretty sure I'd bump into someone.
[ there is not, for the record, that many more people on the dance floor than when they came in. ]
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[Well, there she goes...a little lean right there. The mention of Kaito makes him frown, though - wait, that guy? The name is familiar...he's remembering chocolate Jenga trolling...fuck that guy...]
[He sniffs, rolling his shoulders back.]
I'm not some expert dancer, you understand. They don't teach that in Fixer school.
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Fighting and dancing are the same. That's why... I can't say.
[ wow. she's better at keeping this secret drunk than she is sober. anyway let her... gently slide off this stool... carefully. the vague understanding that it hit like a truck, and that she shouldn't have accepted another drink tonight, is very much there. but she doesn't want to dance with someone she doesn't know, and-- ]
If we're both not experienced, then I don't feel so bad.
[ in her effort to take a hand she's more got a palm on his knee, but it's fine, she's looking up at him with her reddened face and hopeful eyes. the dance doesn't seem so bad. it's nothing fancy footwork wise, just more for couples who want an excuse to keep their hands on each other, but it is yet another experience she'd like and can't imagine who else she'd bring to a bar.
besides, they're already here. what's the harm? ]
Just one?
[ he should say no. ]
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[He blinks a couple times. trying to sort his own thoughts out here. Fighting and dancing. There's something about it, perhaps. The shared experience, interweaving with one another. One leads hopefully leads to harmony and happiness, the other could potentially end in death.]
[The weight of her hand settles on her knee, and his gaze turns on her like a lighthouse.]
[What bright, shining eyes.]
[What a gaze.]
[He should say no. The fingers feel like they're burning through the fabric. He shouldn't have offered that drink. He should have forgotten all of this. He always betrays himself.]
[He bids his mouth not be a traitor, and it doesn't listen.]
...Just one.
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just one, as she stumbles back harmlessly in her bid to pull him from his seat, to the dance floor reserved for people who aren't them, who've never killed someone or died trying. his hand is calloused in ways hers aren't, scarred, and malkuth wishes vaguely she had the time to map them out like she might the structure of a building, from foundation to the decor.
just as vaguely, she pauses and looks at his face; she remembers touching that too, now, the same lack of hesitation and buzzing mind. ]
... You're like the train rings.
[ fucking nonsense ]
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[She's so so stubborn, he thinks. A problem. He's stubborn in his ways, but she's more than determined to make him change his.]
[He is a little awkward, here, not knowing where to go and what to do. Are all eyes on them, this paiirng of monsters? That feeling passes for a moment with her observation, and he can't help it. He lets out a snort.]
...What? Train rings?
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[ but she'll try anyway, reaching up to mimic someone else as her hands lay around his neck and she leans against him. the world stops rocking, which is nice, and she closes her eyes. vergilius is solid, grounding, and malkuth breathes out a terribly sad sigh. ]
It's not...
[ her dance................ she's in mourning. ]
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[Her hands are laid there against him - he doesn't know what to do with his own, feeling like some fumbling wallflower as he manages to let them slip gently over her waist. This isn't a proper dance. They're really just rocking together, she and him. Living in a moment sort of alien to both of them.]
[He leans further down to allow her a better position, his voice low as he asks:]
It's not...what?
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better and worse, better for her hands and worse for her stomach as it tumbles. she shakes her head, light and still held down by the hands shackling her to him, him to her. they're weighty, but in a nice way. ]
It wasn't comfortable. It is now.
[ since he's been considerate and leaned a little, letting her fingers lock a bit more together as if sealing a dealing. physical contact, affection, is something she isn't used to, but it feels easier when her mind can't cling to it the way it might other times; it isn't something scary normally either, but it isn't something easy to give or receive.
she can tease and poke kaito like he does her, she can hug march and hold her hand like she's done before, but... for others, there's a certain boundary they need to cross themselves first. malkuth can't assume it's fine, or that they'd be welcome to it, though there's a difference in dragging someone along and--
this, something like this. her mind drifts to how she'll be dancing with kaito too once the class opens, hands touching in a different way, and if this has got her heart squeezing in a way it hasn't before-- that'll be worse, somehow, in a way she doesn't, can't think about. she remains in the moment, tilting her head up to look at vergilius and then away again just as fast. ]
I don't think I should drink around you.
[ but it's said with more of a laugh than anything serious. ]
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[How much has he missed?]
[Well, maybe that's how it should be. His own self-hatred rises like a familiar taste of bile. He doesn't deserve this. It's not what a man like him should ever have.]
[Even so, he lingers, and he wants. He lets his own gaze settle on her even as she looks away, and wishes things didn't feel like the weight of a thousand shackles on his body.]
Well. [He murmurs.] I don't see you really complaining, though.
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[ which he won't, even if he has to sack her... she made him promise that. her eyes close and she rests her head on him too, exhaling softly. malkuth thinks she could fall asleep like this. vergilius wouldn't let her (would he?) but she could, right on her two feet and held so nicely. ]
... I'll try to write something so I don't forget this time. Just in case. What was that drink called? Ginger... something or other. I like it. I'm gonna get it next time, too. Just one. I'll write that down. Do you know about the importance of-- of dipping?
[ from one topic to another. ]
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[The pressure against his chest makes him still. There's a reckless urge to bring up a hand to place against the back of her head, keeping her against him, but he resists it mightily - there's only a twitch upwards that betrays it.]
[He shouldn't. He can't.]
[He misses that touch to his face that brought him such happiness and such despair.]
Dipping? Like what...chips? Or...dipping with dances...?
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[ this isn't the type of dance you dip to, though, and realistically she knows that. on the other hand, there's support at her back and her own locked in place, loose as that lock is around his neck, and malkuth leans back a little with a giggle to see if he'll let her try. ]
There's a dramaticness to it, she says. I don't know what that means. I trust her though, even if she doesn't remember anything. Is that weird?
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[The weight is shifting. He furrows his eyebrows at it, grip a little insistent to hold on, wait a moment as he tries to understand what she's wanting. A dip in a dance.]
...Not especially. There's someone I know who doesn't remember anything, either.
[Part of him is worried she'll insist on the dip as much as she can in her own Malkuth way if he doesn't give it to her. How annoying. Another part is worried since he hasn't done it before.]
[He squints, trying to remember how it goes.]
[And so, with as much gentle strength as possible, he twists her downwards, shifting her weight as he tilts her body back. It's not some grand graceful movement, but its close. He's leaning over, bangs shadowing over his face like a curtain.]
Hm. How is it?
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her long hair feels like it's touching the ground, even if it very much isn't. his grip is careful and strong. gentle and secure. malkuth feels weightless, heart thudded in her chest, not for the first time wondering if she likes height or just the way people lean close. ]
... Lacking flair, [ she replies airily, ] but I think I like it.
[ there won't be a "think" next time she's dipped, but the ecstatic uncertainty of alcohol makes it hard to focus on anything except how it feels, rather than how she feels about it. it's good. nice. she wishes she could study his face and hands a little longer, staring up at him with interest plain in her eyes. she won't break this time. ]
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[He says - not actually offended, almost more amused by the fact she's actually offering her opinion here.]
[There's something about holding a person like this, and they trust you to do so. No fear, no worry that he might up and drop her right then and there.]
[Its probably his demons speaking, but it feels the trust is misplaced. Nobody should think like that, after everything he's done.]
[He pulls her up, then, eyes a low glimmer in the dimmed light. Back to the dance. His hands have never left her waist.]
So? Was it important as March said?
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[ very important, fingers itching for something to do and finding the short hair at the back of his neck good enough. her thumb smoothes over it, a kind of new, nervous tumbling in her gut that bubbles into another laugh as she feels his hands through the fabric of her waist now, like they'd intend to keep her here as long as possible. clinging, almost, as she is to him by necessity and want.
a sigh at the tailend of it, smile never leaving her face. malkuth wonders if he could walk back like this if she stood on his feet. ]
It sure woke me up though. [ for now. ] I like your hands. Lucky the person that gets to have them all the time, they're trustworthy.
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[It's a very simple noise, that "hm". As if it could encapsulate the rush of feeling down his spine at the caress of her finger at the nape of his neck, as if it explains how suddenly conscious he is of how close she is against him.]
[He suddenly feels very, very small, skewered into this moment, wishing he was more drunk than he is than this light buzz that curses him with awareness.]
[The tips of his ears feel a little warm at the compliment.]
What are you saying? [His voice feels as rough as sandpaper.] Trustworthy? I don't have anyone who...has my hands, Miss Weiss.
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[ but she's not surprised, even if there's more fixers who... are involved with each other is higher than anyone thinks. she wonders if those directors danced in the quiet of their office, their home, like this too. their books had been painful. she couldn't help but read them again and again, hod beside her, trying to understand the things they'd never felt.
not in this lifetime, barely scratching the surface of it in her first. elijah had been so young. what was she now? living the continuation of two lives, for herself, for that girl. ]
I knew a pair of Directors for a bit, [ they're still on her mind, ] who were getting married, I think it was. Before they were invited. She gained her own E.G.O. too, born from anger and love. It was lovely and scary, but it proved the impossible.
[ how terrifying, how strong, it can be. if only all the city had their own to keep them moving. ]
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[And as far as he's concerned, they always will be.]
[Monsters can't hold hands with others if they're stained with blood.]
[The story about the Directors makes him close his eyes a little, rocking Malkuth back and forth a little as he thinks. An E.G.O born of anger and love.]
[Its almost like he can feel the prickling of thorns around his head.]
...That is why relationships are discouraged, you know. [His tone is dull, but with the hint of bittersweetness.] You will always lose what you come to love. This is what the City does.
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