[It's a nice image. Thrilling, really. But something feels like it is sitting at the back of his throat, a lump that can't even dissolve. It sits there, as solid as a stone. He wishes it could go away. Instead, he knows he'll choke on it for the rest of his life.]
...Can I...tell you something? About...a garden of mine, I suppose.
[ the air weighs slightly, in a different way than the warmth that might be there when his hands are on her; malkuth notes the change with his slow words and turns her head slightly to catch his gaze. ]
Of course, Vergilius. [ she's talked enough about herself, she's been patient for him. ] I'm listening.
...Once, I had a garden. Of all sorts of flowers. I kept it well. I nourished the seedlings I....wanted color. At that time, I hoped to see it make the City better. Happier, I suppose.
[Maybe he should be more concrete, but it still feels like walking barefoot on hot coals to even bring the actual thing forward as bluntly as he does with everything else. So, metaphor for now.]
But one day, I came home, and that garden was....burnt by another. Plants and flowers alike, gone. Only a few survived. And the few I managed to cobble together were later....stolen by others for their own needs. In the end...nothing of that original garden was left.
[He shakes his head helplessly.]
So what good am I in...taking care of something like that, huh? I couldn't even...protect the one I had.
[ a garden of his own. her head rests back as she listens, the rumble of his voice against her back low and sorrowed in his reluctance. what good is he in taking care of something like that, when he couldn't even protect the one he had.
their lives are different in that way. this might be as unbridgeable as the many deaths kaito experiences every second, as the memories march has lost and can't recover. malkuth won't fool herself nor anyone else into thinking she could have a grain of understanding where she has none at all. a privileged life, protected then and after she'd left it, and continued to be sheltered until her final one... now, how she can tend her own gardens and wish to see them grow well. ]
... You know I can't give you an answer you'll be wholly satisfied with, and I know that too, so I won't. If you knew something was going to happen that day, would you have stayed? Do you think you could have changed something then? And if you couldn't, if it played out just the same, would it make you feel any better now about what happened to your garden having been there instead of away?
[ they're quiet questions, ones he can answer if he'd like, but the final one's is something she already knows.
no, it wouldn't make him feel better. maybe it would even make him feel worse. she takes one of his hands to play with, drawing lines over the scars. ]
I haven't lost anything like that. I know people who have. I hope I never do. But you did, and so you'll make sure it doesn't happen again. It shouldn't have in the first place -- that's something that can be said about anything -- but what's wrong with having faith in you, in yourself, that you'll do better the next?
....I would've felt like I...could've saved more of them.
[Is his answer. But then again, what good could that have done? So ten flowers would've been destroyed instead of twenty. But then that Ring would've had more fodder for their experiments. More children would be turned into monsters.]
[In the end, nothing....would've changed.]
[He lets his hand be played with, leaning toward to press his forehead a little against hers, nose nuzzling against the side of her head. An angel to listen to the troubles of an old ghost who's lost in hell.]
...I lost that faith, is the problem. How do you do it? See tomorrow with such bright eyes?
[ hmmm. it's a fair question, after all she's been through. she looks down at his hand, quiet as she turns it over in her mind, stomach turning over at the gentle affection vergilius offers her. it's always so cute the way he shows it; it's more of a distraction now, but she thinks
it's because he'd like to be close, the way a wounded animal might be, and trusts her to be someone he can do that with. it's nice. it's good. he should have others, too. for now, malkuth presses his hand to her cheek. ]
... It doesn't feel good to be right about disappointment, Vergilius. No one likes to hear "See? I told you so" even from themselves.
I decided a long, long time ago that I wouldn't see things in black and white the way everyone else around me did. That I would search for color, however faint or hidden it was, in every moment, in every part of scenery, in every person, and I still do that now. Because I'd rather see than assume, because I'd rather risk being hurt than missing out on happiness.
[ sure. it hasn't been good. most of the time, it's been bad. historically so.
... but if she hadn't continued to look for a brighter tomorrow, if she hadn't had faith things could be different, then she wouldn't be here now. in many ways. ]
[It seems as easy as anything by saying it. To act on something like that on his own is much, much harder. How can he do that when everyone's sins, his own sins, remind him every step of the way that he's in hell?]
[His hand cups her, calluses rough against smooth skin. Perhaps he is a wounded animal, but he has found no one else to nestle in with in this cruel world like her, who has seen it all for herself and understood it on her own.]
But...I don't want you to...be hurt, either. You've been through lifetimes of it. If...it is this guide's job to provide you happiness, to alleviate that hurt...I shall.
[ it's not his job to do anything, her heart aches to hear him say so, but she isn't sure how to say it without hurting him too. if it's what's helping him along... if it's what he can use to find his own happiness, even if she's simply an excuse or crutch for now, then she can accept that.
not forever, but for now. the kiss against her cheek is sweet, the hand holding hers large and warm, and malkuth presses her lips tight to keep the resigned sigh inside; she shakes her head and pecks his lips. ]
I know you will. So if you don't believe yourself, at least believe me. You can do that much, can't you?
[ soft and sweet, coaxing his belief. there's no harm in trying. it's something she's always held and will always hold onto, others be damned. ]
[He'll do his best. He feels akin to a stumbling baby deer, unsure how to find his footing. All of this is so new. To indulge is a strange concept. He leans on her to guide him as much as he attempts to guide her.]
[What a strange thing they have. Strange in the best of ways.]
[He smiles lightly into the kiss, his hand sliding to her ear.]
Now, then. Continue the massage? I hardly want you to be tense.
[Really, here he is, trying his best to keep himself ever stalwart. Ever professional. But this lady is sitting in his lap, laughing like that, with exposed shoulders and her bright dress riding up her hips.]
[He pulls back if only to pull up her other arm, as if to continue where he left off. But as his hands find her wrist and shoulder, he's bending his head against it. A kiss to a fingertip. Another down her finger. Yet another to her palm, sighing all the while.]
[As if he wants to drink her in.]
But....mm. [A kiss to the wrist, red eyes flitted to her face. The pain of so many years doesn't feel as powerful as it did even a week ago. A moment ago.] I'll be naughty, too.
[ each one remains like a brand, the deliberateness warming her fiercely as she watches him descend, heart and lungs stuttering as she hums her approval. cheeks beyond rosy, lips parted a bit when she wets them eagerly. ]
I said you could be unprofessional with me anytime, [ she replies breathlessly, her free hand playing with his shirt, ] you-- shouldn't wait for my say-so.
[ it's sweet that he does. malkuth does like it. does adore being asked and cared for like that, considered -- but he's allowed to do what he wants, too. it's
it's pretty hot, as a crude samurai she knows might put it, to be waited on. she doesn't hate it. it gives her something to tease with, caught wrist tilting to let her fingertips brush at his bangs. ]
So, does that mean I can be unprofessional with you in an alleyway? Against a wall? Anytime I want? Wow. That's a lot of power put in my hands. I could abuse it.
[His eyes crease - amused, of course, even as he sighs with the fingertips brushing through his hair. The follow-up question makes him think - does he like that? He always was the kind of person to shirk another's orders.]
[But he allows himself to imagine Malkuth pushing him around, commanding him this way and that, a queen to a loyal knight leashed to her hand, and he can't help but shiver.]
[Another kiss to that wrist, with a mild nibble.]
Hm. I wonder. Do you want to see what it would be like to order me around?
could be an abuse of power if she suddenly wasn't craving it so much. the rough of brick against her (back or front doesn't matter), his gravel voice in her ear, the careful way he'd hold her and move in her despite the way she'd like him to be slightly more lovingly cruel--
he shivers, she shudders a sigh. maybe she would like his hands elsewhere, his large fingers inside her. or even pressing hard against her thighs, threatening to bruise and never leaving a mark. ]
Y... Yes. If that's alright with you.
[ it might-- it would be fun, if dangerous in a way. exciting. malkuth's eyes light up and her cheeks deepen in their color, wondering what she could ask-- command. ]
[He's found himself a nasty little craving for that flush of her cheeks. It worms inside that self punishment, asking him to indulge. What he's had isn't enough. Does he deserve it? Maybe not. But to transmit the weight of his feeling to the image of pressing against her, feeling her gasp against his skin, legs tucked against his hips - could there be anything better?]
[For now he tilts his head, considering, before he kisses over the inside of her elbow with a little smile, pulling closer.]
I'll allow it. Command this old guide, Miss Malkuth. Ask what...you desire of me.
You're not that old, [ a little tease, shifting her legs against him as she
stares and thinks, wondering where to start. ] I'd like you to...
[ ... mmm. a sparkle in her eye as she lifts her free hand to the back of her neck and plays with the clasp there. it's just a small loop around a button, holding up this top piece of the dress.
easy enough to undo, the fabric around her neck loosening. just loosening though. she's careful not to let it fall too far, just enough to show the skin that'd been hidden there as her hand presses the rest to her chest, head tilting to the side to draw his gaze to the curve of her neck, her shoulder. ]
Here. Will you... I mean, I want you to kiss me here. I know you'll get there eventually, but I'm impatient when it comes to you.
[Just loosening, though. His eyes like beacons move to that light curve of her neck, the slight swell before her chest. How odd it is. He's lavished attention on other's before for that physical hit, that scratch to itch. He doesn't think he's ever sat and took the look of something like this in, before. He has a need to memorize it, to internally document every bare piece of skin that is offered to him. He wants to hold it in his memory, the brilliant eyes, the supple waist, the slender thighs, the soft arms.]
[Vergilius abandons her arm to lean in.]
Impatient, are you? I like that.
[So is he. He only nods, before his mouth fits over the skin she offers to him. He has been commanded. He kisses her. He nips her, slightly. He presses lips up to her jawline, burying the gesture into it along with a slow drag of teeth.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[It sombers him, now, thinking of it. To nurture something into life, coax it into beauty. But he tried that. And look where it went.]
[She wishes it, but isn't it asking too much of him?]
Do you think I could really do so?
no subject
[ sincerely, too. he's kind to her. he's gentle and careful, considerate and ever-watchful -- if he could do that... he could raise a flowerbed. ]
Just treat them the way you do me and you'll see them unfurl their petals as easily as you unfurl mine.
[ in several meanings. ]
no subject
[It's a nice image. Thrilling, really. But something feels like it is sitting at the back of his throat, a lump that can't even dissolve. It sits there, as solid as a stone. He wishes it could go away. Instead, he knows he'll choke on it for the rest of his life.]
...Can I...tell you something? About...a garden of mine, I suppose.
no subject
Of course, Vergilius. [ she's talked enough about herself, she's been patient for him. ] I'm listening.
no subject
[Maybe he should be more concrete, but it still feels like walking barefoot on hot coals to even bring the actual thing forward as bluntly as he does with everything else. So, metaphor for now.]
But one day, I came home, and that garden was....burnt by another. Plants and flowers alike, gone. Only a few survived. And the few I managed to cobble together were later....stolen by others for their own needs. In the end...nothing of that original garden was left.
[He shakes his head helplessly.]
So what good am I in...taking care of something like that, huh? I couldn't even...protect the one I had.
no subject
their lives are different in that way. this might be as unbridgeable as the many deaths kaito experiences every second, as the memories march has lost and can't recover. malkuth won't fool herself nor anyone else into thinking she could have a grain of understanding where she has none at all. a privileged life, protected then and after she'd left it, and continued to be sheltered until her final one... now, how she can tend her own gardens and wish to see them grow well. ]
... You know I can't give you an answer you'll be wholly satisfied with, and I know that too, so I won't. If you knew something was going to happen that day, would you have stayed? Do you think you could have changed something then? And if you couldn't, if it played out just the same, would it make you feel any better now about what happened to your garden having been there instead of away?
[ they're quiet questions, ones he can answer if he'd like, but the final one's is something she already knows.
no, it wouldn't make him feel better. maybe it would even make him feel worse. she takes one of his hands to play with, drawing lines over the scars. ]
I haven't lost anything like that. I know people who have. I hope I never do. But you did, and so you'll make sure it doesn't happen again. It shouldn't have in the first place -- that's something that can be said about anything -- but what's wrong with having faith in you, in yourself, that you'll do better the next?
no subject
[Is his answer. But then again, what good could that have done? So ten flowers would've been destroyed instead of twenty. But then that Ring would've had more fodder for their experiments. More children would be turned into monsters.]
[In the end, nothing....would've changed.]
[He lets his hand be played with, leaning toward to press his forehead a little against hers, nose nuzzling against the side of her head. An angel to listen to the troubles of an old ghost who's lost in hell.]
...I lost that faith, is the problem. How do you do it? See tomorrow with such bright eyes?
no subject
it's because he'd like to be close, the way a wounded animal might be, and trusts her to be someone he can do that with. it's nice. it's good. he should have others, too. for now, malkuth presses his hand to her cheek. ]
... It doesn't feel good to be right about disappointment, Vergilius. No one likes to hear "See? I told you so" even from themselves.
I decided a long, long time ago that I wouldn't see things in black and white the way everyone else around me did. That I would search for color, however faint or hidden it was, in every moment, in every part of scenery, in every person, and I still do that now. Because I'd rather see than assume, because I'd rather risk being hurt than missing out on happiness.
[ sure. it hasn't been good. most of the time, it's been bad. historically so.
... but if she hadn't continued to look for a brighter tomorrow, if she hadn't had faith things could be different, then she wouldn't be here now. in many ways. ]
Does that make sense?
no subject
[It seems as easy as anything by saying it. To act on something like that on his own is much, much harder. How can he do that when everyone's sins, his own sins, remind him every step of the way that he's in hell?]
[His hand cups her, calluses rough against smooth skin. Perhaps he is a wounded animal, but he has found no one else to nestle in with in this cruel world like her, who has seen it all for herself and understood it on her own.]
But...I don't want you to...be hurt, either. You've been through lifetimes of it. If...it is this guide's job to provide you happiness, to alleviate that hurt...I shall.
[He kisses her gently on the cheek.]
Maybe some day I will...see colors like you.
no subject
not forever, but for now. the kiss against her cheek is sweet, the hand holding hers large and warm, and malkuth presses her lips tight to keep the resigned sigh inside; she shakes her head and pecks his lips. ]
I know you will. So if you don't believe yourself, at least believe me. You can do that much, can't you?
[ soft and sweet, coaxing his belief. there's no harm in trying. it's something she's always held and will always hold onto, others be damned. ]
no subject
[He'll do his best. He feels akin to a stumbling baby deer, unsure how to find his footing. All of this is so new. To indulge is a strange concept. He leans on her to guide him as much as he attempts to guide her.]
[What a strange thing they have. Strange in the best of ways.]
[He smiles lightly into the kiss, his hand sliding to her ear.]
Now, then. Continue the massage? I hardly want you to be tense.
no subject
The only tension I feel around you is anticipation. Care to add kisses to the mix?
[ be unprofessional. ]
no subject
[Really, here he is, trying his best to keep himself ever stalwart. Ever professional. But this lady is sitting in his lap, laughing like that, with exposed shoulders and her bright dress riding up her hips.]
[He pulls back if only to pull up her other arm, as if to continue where he left off. But as his hands find her wrist and shoulder, he's bending his head against it. A kiss to a fingertip. Another down her finger. Yet another to her palm, sighing all the while.]
[As if he wants to drink her in.]
But....mm. [A kiss to the wrist, red eyes flitted to her face. The pain of so many years doesn't feel as powerful as it did even a week ago. A moment ago.] I'll be naughty, too.
no subject
I said you could be unprofessional with me anytime, [ she replies breathlessly, her free hand playing with his shirt, ] you-- shouldn't wait for my say-so.
[ it's sweet that he does. malkuth does like it. does adore being asked and cared for like that, considered -- but he's allowed to do what he wants, too. it's
it's pretty hot, as a crude samurai she knows might put it, to be waited on. she doesn't hate it. it gives her something to tease with, caught wrist tilting to let her fingertips brush at his bangs. ]
Unless... you like that?
no subject
[His eyes crease - amused, of course, even as he sighs with the fingertips brushing through his hair. The follow-up question makes him think - does he like that? He always was the kind of person to shirk another's orders.]
[But he allows himself to imagine Malkuth pushing him around, commanding him this way and that, a queen to a loyal knight leashed to her hand, and he can't help but shiver.]
[Another kiss to that wrist, with a mild nibble.]
Hm. I wonder. Do you want to see what it would be like to order me around?
no subject
could be an abuse of power if she suddenly wasn't craving it so much. the rough of brick against her (back or front doesn't matter), his gravel voice in her ear, the careful way he'd hold her and move in her despite the way she'd like him to be slightly more lovingly cruel--
he shivers, she shudders a sigh. maybe she would like his hands elsewhere, his large fingers inside her. or even pressing hard against her thighs, threatening to bruise and never leaving a mark. ]
Y... Yes. If that's alright with you.
[ it might-- it would be fun, if dangerous in a way. exciting. malkuth's eyes light up and her cheeks deepen in their color, wondering what she could ask-- command. ]
no subject
[He's found himself a nasty little craving for that flush of her cheeks. It worms inside that self punishment, asking him to indulge. What he's had isn't enough. Does he deserve it? Maybe not. But to transmit the weight of his feeling to the image of pressing against her, feeling her gasp against his skin, legs tucked against his hips - could there be anything better?]
[For now he tilts his head, considering, before he kisses over the inside of her elbow with a little smile, pulling closer.]
I'll allow it. Command this old guide, Miss Malkuth. Ask what...you desire of me.
no subject
stares and thinks, wondering where to start. ] I'd like you to...
[ ... mmm. a sparkle in her eye as she lifts her free hand to the back of her neck and plays with the clasp there. it's just a small loop around a button, holding up this top piece of the dress.
easy enough to undo, the fabric around her neck loosening. just loosening though. she's careful not to let it fall too far, just enough to show the skin that'd been hidden there as her hand presses the rest to her chest, head tilting to the side to draw his gaze to the curve of her neck, her shoulder. ]
Here. Will you... I mean, I want you to kiss me here. I know you'll get there eventually, but I'm impatient when it comes to you.
no subject
[Just loosening, though. His eyes like beacons move to that light curve of her neck, the slight swell before her chest. How odd it is. He's lavished attention on other's before for that physical hit, that scratch to itch. He doesn't think he's ever sat and took the look of something like this in, before. He has a need to memorize it, to internally document every bare piece of skin that is offered to him. He wants to hold it in his memory, the brilliant eyes, the supple waist, the slender thighs, the soft arms.]
[Vergilius abandons her arm to lean in.]
Impatient, are you? I like that.
[So is he. He only nods, before his mouth fits over the skin she offers to him. He has been commanded. He kisses her. He nips her, slightly. He presses lips up to her jawline, burying the gesture into it along with a slow drag of teeth.]