[....He pulls the hand up, faltering a little, his own grip shaking, before he places the lightest touch of a kiss against the side of her hand. It's so close. He could bite. He winces as he resists, places it down, even as his grip tightens.]
My lovely...little duck.
[Another wince, pained as ever.]
When I get better....then I'll...do my best. I suppose.
[ ... will there be a time when those words aren't daggers sinking into her heart, pressed there by her own hands? when the ghost of his lips might be less scorching, returned to a warmth she loves to cradle? malkuth wishes he'd trail them from fingertip to wrist, from elbow to the crook of her neck, calling her his all the while, and bites the inside of her cheek hard to distract herself.
focus. he's afflicted, unwell. this sucks for him in more ways than it does her. ]
It's really paining you to be so close to me, huh? I'm a curse to you one way or another.
[ but it's only a soft joke, squeezing his hand before carefully edging her fingers away. ]
Thank you for coming, Vergilius. I'll release you from your torment now.
[In another time, another life, maybe he would do so. One of his favorite things during that blissful time was to kiss around the edge of her neck, trail to lavish attention to the perfect square of skin behind her ear. She was soft then, she's too soft now.]
[Even now, even without the hunger, he could sink into her, and drown.]
[She releases her fingers, gently freeing him from this perch he's found himself on. And even now, as he stands here, his red eyes are welled up with too many emotions. Love, regret, misery, shame, desire, self-destruction.]
...You're not a curse. [He murmurs, finally tearing his eyes away so that he can recede back to the wall. It may be a joke, but...]. Don't call that yourself again.
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My lovely...little duck.
[Another wince, pained as ever.]
When I get better....then I'll...do my best. I suppose.
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focus. he's afflicted, unwell. this sucks for him in more ways than it does her. ]
It's really paining you to be so close to me, huh? I'm a curse to you one way or another.
[ but it's only a soft joke, squeezing his hand before carefully edging her fingers away. ]
Thank you for coming, Vergilius. I'll release you from your torment now.
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[Even now, even without the hunger, he could sink into her, and drown.]
[She releases her fingers, gently freeing him from this perch he's found himself on. And even now, as he stands here, his red eyes are welled up with too many emotions. Love, regret, misery, shame, desire, self-destruction.]
...You're not a curse. [He murmurs, finally tearing his eyes away so that he can recede back to the wall. It may be a joke, but...]. Don't call that yourself again.
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It's just a joke. [ born in some truth. ] But... fine, I won't.
[ hardly a blessing, but. she can't call herself a curse, huh. okay.
... still, still. she teases. ]
Intending to stay until I sleep?