previously...
Arionna
Ari pressed her lips tight, her brows furrowing slowly. She didn't need to be a genius to figure out what he was saying, or insinuating. Ari sat up slowly and reached into her bag for a few bills, sliding them on the table. When she looked back to Elijah, she forced a small smile. "Then somewhere private."
Elijah
"Your aunt's house? I promise, I'll be a gentleman. I won't even remark on the fact that you look fucking fantastic today. "
Arionna
She nodded softly. Ari hadn't a clue where he lived, but since he suggested her place, she'd only assume he was comfortable with his own...or he had someone there. And the moment he complimented her, Ari blinked and her face burned a little warmer than it had a few moments ago. "Except you already did."
Ari slipped out of the booth, bag hanging across her body. "Can we....ride your bike?"
Elijah
He grins, and that is an expressiont hat comes easily. That is an expression that promises all sorts of delightful, terrible things. That is an expression that has been places, reads people, pushes buttons and knows precisely where it would take him. That is the trouble with golden haired boys. That is the trouble with those gregarious, social sorts. The kind that thrive on people and hum in the heart of the party (but stand alone in the room, an interesting dichotomy, that) .
He stood, leaving some cash on the table but also? Offering her his helmet with that damnable grin of his. The one that's the constant companion. The one that makes promises he seems fully intent on keeping.
Except you already did," she says.
"Oh damn, oops," he nodded, "you're gonna have to hold on, but I don't mind taking you for a ride."
Arionna de la Babin
He had been there before. The house was unremarkable except that it was the house of a middle class family; though that wasn't very remarkable either with its cookie cutter look. The lights were off, cars in the drive way, and when they arrived, Arionna, who had been rather enjoying the ride, slid off his bike and handed him the helmet. There was, indeed, a smile on her face. "That..."
She stretched her arms a little and reached into her purse for the keys to guide them in. It was clean, with picture frames on the wall (though while there were pictures of a child, it was not Ari), and art bought locally...the sort of thing most people except, down to the perfectly manicured flowers sitting in a vase by the door.
Ari slipped her shoes off and set them by the door where the others sat of her 'family.' She crept on the balls of her feet towards the stairs and right on up. Quiet as a mouse.
She led him to her room, where she closed the door and flipped the light on. "We could speak in the livingroom, but I'd rather not, should my Aunt or Uncle hear." Her uncle wasn't suppose to know of the magical inclinations, and her Aunt wasn't meant to know that Ari was more than just a simple pretender; she still wasn't sure she could trust her.
Ari's room was, well...
There weren't many pictures on the wall, if any at all. Her only real picture was of a well dressed woman with dark hair near her bed, sitting on the black nightstand. It was a neat place, with a bookshelf that was only partly filled, and few knick nacks. It was remarkably...bare really. At the very least, she had decorated enough to make it seem livable. A black and red rose comforter, a large plush red rug in the middle of the room (hardwood floors for her room), and a door that would lead one to the bathroom. If there was anything 'interesting' about the place, it was that she had far too many candles, and they had all been used at one point or another.
Elijah
So, they rode.
It was something to note that Elijah didn't drive like he normally drives, which is to say that he didn't drive recklessly and a little too fast and soon enough they were at the house. The one he's been to before, the one that he rather liked and remembered as having a comfortable couch and decent enough popcorn. He was accustomed to sneaking into houses, staying quiet. Normally, it was through a window. Normally, there was alcohol or some illicit substance involved.
But, he was sober right now. He was content to go to Ari's room and... take it in. It was Spartan to say the least, and he took in the plush rug and the abundance of candles and-
"You Work in here, right?" there is a capital in that word.
Arionna de la Babin
[what are you thinking Eli? perc + emp]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 6, 7, 7, 8) ( success x 4 )
Elijah
What was he thinking? What was he thinking, anyway? He's looking around, he's taking it in, he's a little overwhelmed and his first instinct, being a twenty year old young man, is does she expect us to make out or something? Though, admittedly, that wasn't something he seemed particularly adverse to. Hell, it was something he was more accustomed to because the conversation they are about to have is one that he only recently figured out. Something that he only recently tried to put together.
It's intimidating, to say the least. It's more than he was accustomed to and it weighed heavy like the mantle of responsibility. He's trying, oh how he trying to make it so. Make it to where he's more than a child and more than a screw up, but someone who is worthy of trust. Someone who Knows Something and can impart that wisdom. Someone who can have information but receive as well. To let this be a two way street.
And it's hard. He knows it's hard. He would rather make out with her. He would rather just lay in bed and talk or marvel at how similar yet different their eyes were. He would rather doze off and pretend that he didn't have to be responsible.
But he knows that he has a duty. So he does it. Pleasure, and leisure, can wait.
Arionna de la Babin
Ari nodded softly, stepping to her rug to lift it up a little, the remnants of chalk giving off the faint lines that formed a circle, among other things surely. She dropped it back into place, making certain it was covered. "You can sit." She said, giving a gesture to the bed as...well..it was the only real place to sit except the floor. She wouldn't have cared if he sat there either. "Or well, you can sit on the rug too, if you want. I don't find it particularly comfortable."
Arionna watched Elijah for a moment. She was never very good at expressing her own emotions, bt she was rather adept at understanding others...when she chose to. "All of you emphasize privacy when talking about magic. I thought it necessary to move to a location best made for that, as did you. There are no expectations of you, if you're concerned. I suppose we could have wandered out to the mountains, if that would have made you feel more comfortable."
Arionna plopped on the edge of her bed.
"I often think of him as me, really. The cougar I mean. Whatever I dream of myself inevitable happens to him, in some manner or another. "
Elijah
And he does sit, and he does sit on the floor, cross-legged and carefully, carefully poised to where he was fairly certain was the center of the circle, because he knows how important that is, to have something that separates him from the other world, he knows the importance of unbroken circles- no beginning, no end. All points beginnings, all points endings, like a wheel. Like a seal. He exhales, seems comfortable there.
"Yeah," he starts, "the privacy is important because you never know who is watching or listening and there's a lot of people out there that you don't want finding you. We're kind of like yarn in a weater, pull one thread and the whole thing can unravel. You can cut it off and tie it off, do damage control, but there'll always be a hole." Elijah exhales, words from experience. Words from perspective. He knits his fingers together and leans forward a little. Squares off to look at her on the bed and keep his distance, but forge a connection none the less (we're not separate, it's all connected, we're all facets of the same whole, spoken into existence and given form by names and words.)
"There's two schools of thought on that, from what I've found? Like, basically, that cougar is tied to you, some people think of it as your higher self. A facet of something primal and ancient and powerful. Some part of you that is eternal and follows you through incarnations and guides you. Other people think of it as something that is bound to you, that is separate from you but still tied and linked none the less.
"Nevertheless, that cougar and its significance to you is telling. Some people have guides that push them- go forward, do more, find the next best thing- again and again and again and go. Other people have a guide that sends you on a quest and a journey, some impossible star to reach like Don QUixote on a spiritual level. Some people even have a guide that is like strengthen what is here and finding good in making some idea solid and tangible.
"Then? There's people whose avatars- oh, bee tee dubs, that's the word for it, an avatar, that's the word a lot of people use- anyway, their avatars seek to make a person aware of the cycle and aware of something more primal. What is. What was. What will be. All down to the basest of instincts, finding the root of all things and finding that space beyond reason and just being more. Or something like that."
Elijah
( oops, try again)
Elijah
And he does sit, and he does sit on the floor, cross-legged and carefully, carefully poised to where he was fairly certain was the center of the circle, because he knows how important that is, to have something that separates him from the other world, he knows the importance of unbroken circles- no beginning, no end. All points beginnings, all points endings, like a wheel. Like a seal. He exhales, seems comfortable there.
"Yeah," he starts, "the privacy is important because you never know who is watching or listening and there's a lot of people out there that you don't want finding you. We're kind of like yarn in a weater, pull one thread and the whole thing can unravel. You can cut it off and tie it off, do damage control, but there'll always be a hole." Elijah exhales, words from experience. Words from perspective. He knits his fingers together and leans forward a little. Squares off to look at her on the bed and keep his distance, but forge a connection none the less (we're not separate, it's all connected, we're all facets of the same whole, spoken into existence and given form by names and words.)
"There's two schools of thought on that, from what I've found? Like, basically, that cougar is tied to you, some people think of it as your higher self. A facet of something primal and ancient and powerful. Some part of you that is eternal and follows you through incarnations and guides you. Other people think of it as something that is bound to you, that is separate from you but still tied and linked none the less.
"Nevertheless, that cougar and its significance to you is telling. Some people have guides that push them- go forward, do more, find the next best thing- again and again and again and go. Other people have a guide that sends you on a quest and a journey, some impossible star to reach like Don QUixote on a spiritual level. Some people even have a guide that is like strengthen what is here and finding good in making some idea solid and tangible.
"Then? There's people whose avatars- oh, bee tee dubs, that's the word for it, an avatar, that's the word a lot of people use- anyway, their avatars seek to make a person aware of the cycle and aware of something more primal. What is. What was. What will be. All down to the basest of instincts, finding the root of all things and finding that space beyond reason and just being more. Or something like that."
Arionna de la Babin
"No one has told me who these people are. Alexander mentioned something about them, but said very little on the matter. Must not be overly important, or no one finds it necessary to inform me. Either of those are likely." She pressed her toe into the floor a little.
"Hm. But they have no real answers, only suspicions. I find that interesting. Like children trying to understand how the world really works. Still it's something I suppose, something to think about. I'm not certain if he's trying to inform me of anything, or if we're just living in my dreams."
She canted her head, sliding her braid over ehr shoulder to undo it and let her hair loose. "Though I feel ancient when we're together, as if I've been here for far too long. Like some spirits, trapped. Sometimes I think we are the same if only because we are alone, and our sort are few anymore. Everyone makes way for the docile of our kind."
Elijah
"Oh gawd, it actually is super important and people are not telling you because they are scared as fuck or don't understand the legitimate consequences of fucking with them. Because seriously. There are consequences, and from personal experience, being a dumbass where the Technocratic Union is involved will royally turn your life upside down."
Gravity. Yes, gravity from Elijah, who would have ever thought he was capable of it? Obviously, someone realized that he was, but we digress. He exhaled, long and deep and not yet shallow from the abuse he runs his body through. It's changing, you see, less substance and more physicality.
"Dreams mean something, I think... the analogy of being a child trying to understand how the world works is accurate for mages, we're not gods, we're not omnipotent, but we have the potential to be more than what we are but we have to learn. We have to fail, and for you? I'd say your cougar is taking the Montessori approach- you have all the tools, you just get to learn by manipulation and self discovery, and he'll be there once you're ready to get yourself to a new plane of existence.
"If you're a trapped spirit, then maybe your avatar is trying to show you how to break through that. You're... you're the beginning of the cycle."
Arionna de la Babin
[ahaha! you're scared! maybe? perc + emp]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (4, 6, 6, 7, 9) ( success x 4 )
Elijah
He is spooked. This isn't just recent, this came from knowing. Elijah seems aware, painfully so, of how many bullets he's dodged. How many close calls he's had and how the fact that the only thing that keeps him around is the fact that he is utterly inconsequential.
He's scared, but it's not moving him. It's not governing him. It's not going to be cowed, he's not going to let a bad experience keep him frozen, move him to stasis because Elijah is dynamic. Because he will push, and this? This is just another thing that he'll push. This was a life lesson for him, one that finally started to hammer home that caution is necessary.
Arionna de la Babin
Ari moved slowly from the bed and sat in front of him on her knees, pressing her fingers into the floor as she leaned forward, moving her eyes closer to his. "What's there to be afraid of?" She knows there is something...something that made her cry when she woke up the night before, something that made her not want to sleep. She has it written down in her journal, should she forget it...though she never will.
"What are they scared of? Me? I never understood why I was so frightening. I still don't, sometimes. Is it because of where I come from? Or..." Her brows furrowed, eyes narrowing. "Something else I don't see?"
Arionna sat back just a little to give him, and maybe her space. "Either way..." her face lightened just a little. "He doesn't answer my questions. Not very helpful he's unwilling to do that much. "
"Do you dream like that?"
Elijah
"Basically," he starts with a sigh, something resigned but undaunted. Fear is a powerful teacher, but fear is to be balanced, to be pushed past. A teacher, not a master, "basically... you have to reframe how you view fear. It's sacred, but it's there to teach us. Fear keeps us motivated, but it tries to protect us. It's an overbearing mother, though.
"The mages in town are afraid of the Technocracy because they're basically a quasigovernmental organization that, once upon a time, won a great big philosophical war- but a philosophical war with guns and bloodshed and a lot of Very Bad Shit Happening- to govern what the consensus, non mages, believe reality to be. They mean well, because their original purpose, from what I gathered, is to protect people from bad shit like Nephandi and infernalists and things that are generally bad news for good people, but they went a little overboard and decided that all reality deviants- which is a technical term for anything that isn't a technocrat or a regular mortal sleeper is dangerous and needs to be dealt with.
"They're not all bad, they mean well, but we're on the do not fly list so the general consensus is don't do anything to draw their attention because they have the resources to wipe our happy little magical community off the face of this plane of existence."
He gave amirthless, tired smile and opened his arms wide, "tada the Ascension War in one neat little package."
He nodded, then went on. He had to talk, had to clarify, "and people... people are afraid of things that are different, you could always say that this is part of the nature of having grown up with belieing that reality and the universe works one way and suddenly you realize it doesn't. There's a lack of acceptance in certain regards there... I think... I think some people find you frightening because you're very much a wild animal, and... and anyway some people interpret that as being on the edge of going down a really messed up path.
"It keeps people at arms length, that's for sure, but it's not born of a place of understanding. There's no give-and-take here. Becoming aware, getting along, working with others because they're your allies in difference, even if you don't agree, takes a lot of give and take. Keeping the integrity of what you believe intact but acknowledging that others view something different. It's a two way street that no one is traveling."
Elijah stopped at this point, looking from Arionna to the ceiling and running his hands through his hair, he half breathes, "jesus, I wonder if this is how Kalen felt with me."
He looked back down and shook his head.
"Your avatar doesn't normally answer your questions, it's more like that teacher that tries to get you to find the answer yourself, no matter how infuriating that may be."
There's a second where he pauses.
"What do I dream about?" uho, can't dodge this one.
Arionna de la Babin
Elijah does his best, he does. He spills it out in the simplest way he can think of, which may either mean Ari is a bit dense, or that he doesn't know how to break it down any further. He understands this, knows this. She hasn't any idea.
It's readily apparent on her face as she can't help but give a slight tilt of her head and a furrow of her brows. "I haven't a clue what any of that is. Is there a book of these terms? If you're to so easily say them, I ought to know them."
"What you're saying..." She said, "Is that they're as judgmental as I believe. Do you know what the most beautiful thing is? A wild animal. A bear, a wolf pack untouched, a cougar, even the wild rats and mice are beautiful in their own regard. They have no one who tells them what they must do. They know how they must survive, and they do so, but they are free to do as they wish beyond that. Domestic animals are pathetic. They have this desperate need to please their masters, else they feel some deep shame and self-hatred. Dogs...obedient to the end, yet they never view the human as an equal but a master. People who desire to be allies with only those who are domestic have a desire to control. I have no desire to be controlled. To an oppressor, that is deeply threatening. And now that I understand..."
Her lips tightened slowly. When he looked back down, her brows and eyes had narrowed. "I'm not...exhausting you, am I?"
"Yes. I did ask that. "
Elijah
[I'm not going to freak the fuck out. WP]
Dice: 5 d10 TN8 (2, 7, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 2 )
Elijah
"Not exhausted, just... I haven't actually been on the teaching end of things. You kind of learn the terms and crap by being around others, but nobody's come out and said here Ari, I'll help you so I'm kinda fuckin' frustrated that no one will get over themselves and man up and help."
"Okay, top to bottom- sleeper: noun, person who is not aware of the magical world nor can they do awakened magic. Avatar: noun, kind of like your soul but not quite. It's a pretty close approximation to a soul, though. Mage: noun, person who can warp reality to their will and perform enlightened magic. Consensual reality: the idea that reality is determined by a bunch of people who agree that reality works a certain way. Science. Reason. Logic. Crap like that. The consensus determines what kind of magic can skirt under the radar and what kind of magic kicks your ass when you try to do it. Technocratic Union: organization that influences the consensus into saying this is what reality is-" he stops "-y'know, it might be easier if we pick that part up later? It's kinda complicated and I think it might be best if I write it out and we, like, treat it like a vocab lesson. Getting the same terminology is important for getting everyone on the same page. Words are important."
"Basically, mages- reality deviants, us- we're not domesticated, no matter how weird that may sound because so many of us are pretty regimented and banal and not like you are, people who deign that their will is law don't like to be subjugated by another. Like... you're going to end up with territory wars with other mages, because they all kind of think of themselves as apex predators, kind of? It's complicated, there's a lot of ego."
But back to the question, the one about his dreams, the one that he was clearly trying to avoid, and he inhales deep and he starts.
"I dream about the Void. Or at least I used to, my avatar was kind of... yeah, we're not all sweetness or mixed messages, sometimes there's threats and fucked up things that you get shown, and shown regularly because there's a lesson you have to learn. I used to dream about... about the world going black, about the barrier between our world and the shadow lands breaking down, about a realm of unknowable, unspeakable Things blotting out the sky and the stars and consuming everything until there was Nothing. And not just ceasing to exist, but becoming a part of a reality where you were aware of the eternity of no light and no sound and no sensation and just your own mind screaming for something, anything to provoke a response and then?"
He stops, exhales long and deep because he's talking fast and his hands are clasped and it's all a vicious, violent, vivid memory. A reality he lived for a long time. He exhales, knuckles white but control held.
"Then there's that dawning moment, that second four years into the same kinds of dreams- different paths but the same outcome, falling into the void and welcoming it like a goddamned supplicating psycho but knowing that it's wrong- there's something there. I felt nothing and begged for something to be there and I felt something touch me and never have I wished for something to end as I did then. It was a message, something to show me how far you can fall and that power gotten from illegitimate means, by pacts you should never cross, that consorting with demons never serves the one who makes the pact."
A beat. A second.
"The Voice tells me I've faltered before, but I don't think it was in this lifetime. Now I don't dream of anything, nothing of consequence. Sometimes I dream about what could have happened if I hadn't pushed Jenn off the ice, sometimes I dream about where I'd be without Kalen, or if he'd just let me go when I tried to push away all the times I push him away. It's normal stuff now, but those first dreams were Hell, but they showed me something important. I know what my limits are, I know what would tempt me, and I know well and good the consequences."
Arionna de la Babin
[how you doin over there chief? perc + emp]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 4, 8, 10) ( success x 2 )
Elijah
There is a dawning realization, something that he finally seems to put together. Something that makes him realize that if things had gone a different way that he would be very different on a metaphysical level. That he would be something Else entirely. He's faltered before, not in this life but Elijah seems convinced that he may have consorted with wicked forces in the past, and walked a line that he might not have ever been able to cross back over again.
Arionna de la Babin
[wp!]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 5, 8) ( success x 1 )
Arionna de la Babin
Arionna leans in again, though she doesn't lean on her hands this time.She wraps her hands slowly around his and leans on them as she had on the floor. "You're lingering, Elijah."
"It's easy to linger on past decisions. It's easy to cling to them and wonder... just keep wondering until that's all you do. It's easy to be afraid when you've made mistakes before. I'm not saying that using what you've experienced as a measure of now isn't right, only that you ought not to harm yourself because of what is gone."
"If you dream of what could have been, then your dreams tell you that you are afraid. You can't let go of something, so you exist both in the past and in a future that doesn't exist. " Sometimes, she really could be a nice person.. if she tried.
"You didn't make the entire mistake, you only faltered. Everyone does somewhere. If you know what what your limits are, if you know what would push you to break completely, then why are you still there?"
Elijah
"I have a hard time seeing myself as anything other than a fuck up," he admits. Looks at her hands and relaxes just a tad, just enough that he can be aware that she's trying, that she's making an allowance because he responds so readily to touch, revels in it and lets it speak to him.
"So, just... be in the moment, lie in what is instead of what could have been. It's..." he's aware of his breathing, aware of her hands, aware of the subtle shudder held ever so carefully back that dares to rack his frame when he thinks about it. How he's dreamt of things and felt sulfur in his lungs when he came ever so close to something unknowably wrong in his dreams. Something that was ageless, immortal, rotting and he could taste it and-
"I don't know why I hold on... it's... I know that there has to be change. I know that you keep moving forward but it's so easy, for all my talk about barriers and transcendence, it's easy to stay where you are, to not change, to let fear's lessons go ignored, I just..."
He looks at her, there is something intimate in vulnerability, and this was vulnerability. This was him giving something that meant more than touch, it was giving of his insecurities. Something that doesn't come out often, shows up more readily with her. "It scares me, because I don't know how close we could be, at any moment, to finding ourselves in a situation where I know I will break. I want to be stronger than that, but I don't know how to get there."
Arionna de la Babin
[don't cry ari!]
Dice: 4 d10 TN8 (2, 5, 5, 9) ( success x 1 )
Arionna de la Babin
Arionna couldn't help but laugh a little. "You're not a fuck up. If you make mistakes, that's part of being alive. If you keep making those mistakes, then there is something that is pushing you to do it. You need only find what is pushing you and stop it.
"You can see the past for what it is. It happened, and while there may have been a hundred different possible outcomes, this is the one you have. It hardly matters what some other possibility was. Perhaps in some other world, we could be serial killers. But that hardly matters doesn't it? Because we aren't that now."
Arionna took in a slow breath, letting her eyes fall from him for a moment. "In my dream, the one where I walked for awhile, where I felt the sun and heard the voices of those I knew in the blinding light... voices I...felt good about, wanted to see. I've never felt that in my dreams. I've always been alone, somehow. But I did. " She paused for a moment. "Then I tried to run...to greet them..and he did too, my cougar."
She squeezed his hands lightly. "I don't know how to describe the pain I felt. But I felt it at my leg. I saw it, the bear trap. He was in it too. Caught. We struggled. We felt unimaginable pain...and we cried. Whoever I heard ahead of me, they didn't notice. So I cried even more." There's a small sniffle that starts bt she holds it in easily enough. "Then it began to pull. It pulled so hard that we were being dragged. We thrashed, we clung to the earth, but nothing happened."
She looked to him slowly with a small, forced smile. "What I mean by this is...Some things are easy to do. I know it's easy to let fear guide you. It's safe. It keeps us protected from all the bad things when we believe they are common. But an animal that survives is one that is adaptable, that canchange."
"If you wish to be strong, you do what you always do to gain strength. You engage in that which you need, and you build your will against it. If...if cake is your addiction, then you must experience the...presence...of cake.." A soft chuckle spilled out of her. "And resist it. But you start small. In time you can be in a room of cakes and never want for it. Or perhaps you will, but you will be better at saying no."
Elijah
He held her hands, kpt that moment and just enjoyed the moment where he could hold her hands and just enjoy the moment, just be there and take pleasure in something small, because he knows this is the most he can have, the most he can give and how much of a stretch this is for her.
"I think... there is something that is holding you back. Something that tethers you where you were instead of moving somewhere else, something unexpected, maybe? Something that catches up with you? It's... it feels a lot like rejection, a lot of feeling trapped. If you stay trapped, you'll starve."
He held her hands a little tighter, repositioned so e could look at her palms with the tiniest of grins on his face, "how did you know about my cake addiction? I'd mainline carrot cake if I could fit it in a syringe."
Arionna de la Babin
"Maybe. I just know that I understand what it means to be afraid and clinging to it because it's all you really know, and whenever you have used it, it's worked for you. Sometimes, it's the best you can do. The trouble is learning when it's appropriate."
Soft palms. Despite her love of the outdoors, she has maintained relatively soft hands since her move to Denver. Years ago they might not have been so. "I think you should stop being so critical of yourself. I find you to be very successful, and I suspect others would agree. And if you make a mistake..." Arionna shrugged softly. "Well, I suppose if you're worried you'll be viewed badly, you can come here. I won't mind."
"Someone had mentioned your love of baked goods. I had planned to make some for your thanksgiving last year, when we first met. Of course, I didn't see you then, so I visited my mother as I always do. But I am aware of your enjoyment. Though I can't understand carrot cake...it seems so..irrational, doesn't it? A vegetable in a cake?"
Elijah
He looks at her palms and traces lines, careful but deliberate, like it's important for him to explore her skin, as though this would give him some great insight. Perhaps it would, perhaps he could see more than he gave himself credit. She says he shouldn't be so critical of himself, to which he only smiles. Doesn't reply, doesn't refuse, but seems grateful none the less.
"Perfection is a nice ideal, but attaining it implies stasis," and it was clear that Elijah didn't much care of stasis.
He traces the long line that crosses the life line. He didn't understand palmistry, but he seemed intent on learning her details none the less. "That's really sweet, I was out of town. I went home, it meant something to my dad that I showed up to Thanksgiving and tried. Met with my aunt, got to see her for the first time, but that's kind of the nature of meeting dead relatives."
Then? His smile turned playful, "carrot cake, zucchini bread. It's all pretty delicious, all things considered. I think it's so people can feel healthy and eat cake."
Elijah
[WP: seriously, Elijah, don't kiss Ari.]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (5, 7, 8, 9, 9) ( success x 4 )
Arionna de la Babin
[yeaaaah I'm a young woman..in a dark room with... wp]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (4, 4, 7, 8) ( success x 2 )
Arionna de la Babin
She tucked her head slowly, feeling the warmth building in her own face. "It isn't perfection, simply moderation. Being too critical is just as harmful as not being critical at all."
She pulled one hand from his slowly, pausing as she considered herself. Was she always so hesitant about this sort of thing? Would she have been less so if she hadn't been in that small town? She slid her fingers along his hand, then slowly up his forearm, caressing his skin.
There was another laugh. Sudden, quick, but there. "Who wants to feel healthy when eating cake?"
Elijah
There was a moment, with the quirk of his mouth and that second where he seemed like he could be someone people could trust. It was a dangerous sort of look because it made him seem harmless, made him seem like the type of person people could trust. He exhales, something measured and restrained and there was reaction, pleasure, a moment when that lopsided smile seemed inviting.
Only as far as she would go. Only aware that there were boundaries, that their foundation was sand, that the ground was still uneven. He's lithe, this one. A body that is full of potential that hasn't quite made it to the kinetic.
"People in denial about the fact that cake isn't a diet food," he says as he reaches up, and there should be hesitation but he carefully pushes her hair back over one ear, looks at her eyes- both of them green but hers more vibrant, less tinted amber in the right lighting.
"Because, let's face it, we can delude ourselves into all sorts of things if we want to badly enough."
Arionna de la Babin
[go go gadget affection!]
Dice: 4 d10 TN5 (1, 5, 10, 10) ( success x 3 )
Arionna de la Babin
Even she doesn't really know what she's doing. She hadn't brought him 'home' to do much other than talk about the things she knew nothing about. He had been her best connection thus far.
She is young and...did she do it without thinking about it? That would be something she'd be concerned about later, certainly. Had she just been telling herself that it was just about talking? She had though, made it clear she didn't want to be.. Oh but his lips...
Arionna leans into him and there is no hesitation, no second thought. She leans in and she presses her lips into his. It's not a chaste peck or one that lovers give just as they walk out the door. It's deeper. It's fearful and yet adventurous.
Elijah
[Life 1: life scan! Diff 4 +1 (distracted, because his focus is not working in his favor right now)]
Dice: 2 d10 TN5 (2, 4) ( success x 1 ) [WP]
Elijah
Elijah tastes like chaos and wanting. It's the chaos that catches people, the way that there's a moment, when something snaps and she pulls in and her lips are against his and his hand drops, moves, nestles in her hair and he pulls in, like this is the only thing he's wanted to do all evening, like this is precisely what he wanted, even if he didn't know it yet. His heart was beating loud and there is a second when the world yields-
And he knows. He knows how hard her heart is beating because he can feel it in his own chest, because he knows that the barrier between self andother is bullshit. There is that moment, that snap from potential to kinetic, the push, the drive the wanting more than just mindless drumming of tumultuous energy. He tests the boundaries, and that much is clear.
There is a second, a moment where he stays where he is, revels in the taste of her lips and the feeling of her hair and his eyes are closed but he knows precisely where she is. He sits up a little, beckons her forth a little closer into the circle they both know is under the rug. He explores, he seeks more, and after a moment that kiss goes deeper and he isn't afraid.
He is his higher self, he is the root of what he is. A boundless tempest, a dreaming revolutionary. Someone who is in the moment of now and every moment is now and all he can live in is now. He doesn't pull back, not yet.
Arionna de la Babin
Even the most timid individual will yield once they have finally stepped over the line. Certainly there are those who are so deeply strong willed that they can stop at any moment, but so many...once the door is open, everything emerges. It's the cold, for Ari. The cold of her skin, of her entire being...
Winter is not just deadening. Winter is intense, but also calm. It forms blankets for the sleeping bears and tells the birds when it's time to leave. Winter isn't just cold, ice, death... it's a different sort of warmth. And maybe it's that particular warmth that finds his chaos so...enticing.
Arionna moves without much hesitation because it will mean returning to the moment, and feeling his skin on hers, whether it's his lips, or the way his hand has slid into her hair...
She can feel the sensation along her own skin; it's the shiver, that moment where your entire being realizes that something is happening that it's been wanting.
Her hand slides along his chest, pausing near his clavicle, simply feeling what he hid underneath.
Elijah
And all there was at this juncture was now. The past, the present, the future, all points are now, all points are potential and she feels like winter and it usually reminds him of the end, of his own mortality, of those trembling moments when he stares down death and knows that he is small. He puts an arm around her waist, pulls her in so that they are closer.
His heart is pounding, not a calm and steady beat but matching what he was- and it matches that of a storm, or waves and highs and lows and everything. It's turbulence, it can be overwhelming but he pushes his luck, moves forward and explores her mouth with his tongue and he isn't hesitant. They've crossed a line, and who knew if his will would hold.
Maybe it was a test, to see if he could walk to the edge and then stop. If he had that in him or if he would plow forward, break this poor girl's heart just by being himself. (It's true, he will, on some level he knows but he's selfish right now, only cares for now because every moment is now.) He's so sure, almost aggressive, unabashed and unashamed and always moving forward.
Transcendent. That was a nice word for it.
He is toned and lithe and lean. He has a body that is built for potential, that he is strong when he needs to be but not musclebound. No, whatever physical strength he has it comes from will alone.
Arionna de la Babin
He pushes, she accepts. There's no resistance now, no hesitance, because once the ball starts to roll, it's so hard not to let it go. She is a primal creature, someone that strives so hard to go back to what life is, and not what humans want it to be. A creature who strives to become one with the elements, to understand the basic nature of all things because in the end...they're all instinct.
He pushes, he takes a chance, tries for what he wants even when he knows...knows it won't work out well...
But pain is life, Ari would say. Life is pain. The stuff they spout, the mushy, hope-filled, positive thinking ideas they push....it's all a life because in the end, well...
But she's not thinking about the end point because they are there nd she wants it just as much as he does. It's the shirt she takes first. Each button pulled through the loops, the fabric separated so that she can slide her hands against his skin, feel the form that he hides underneath.
What are you really, Elijah? Underneath all the clothes and the masks...what are you really?
Elijah
This is reverie. He is not careful, even when he should be. He is not hesitant, because despite his masks, despite his fears, despite the nagging and insistence and everything he thinks about himself, at the end of it all Elijah Poirot is not a coward. Elijah Poirot is not afraid to act, because once he was. He's moved past, bounded forward, and while she's taking him apart button by button he's moving.
Never in one place for too long, taking in taste, feeling every blessed thing nearby. The spider in the corner, the breathless, helpless fly. The beating of her heart and the insistence of another living, breathing, aching body that knows the desire for release, wants more than barriers and hesitation.
Arionna is a primal creature, and he's drawn to those types. Those who can act on instinct, and this was assuredly instinctive. His chest is smooth and his skin is warm and he's quiet breaking sunlight. Underneath the clothes and the masks, what was he? What would he be?
He keeps his position, untangles his fingers from her hair and places his arm to caress her cheek, pull back and find a place on her knee, something that travelled upward and sought the curve of her thighs and smooth skin and careful muscles. When he pulls back his teeth graze her lips, just a nip, just a tad, and his attention moves, from his lips to her jawline to a place where he could taste her pulse.
When he breathes out it is in a shudder, something that is stalwart in the storm of his very being. Something that speaks of his will, feldgling but strong. Control he may well let go of, but not yet.
Arionna de la Babin
dif 4 +1 distracted -1 dif for night before midnight = 4
Dice: 1 d10 TN4 (7) ( success x 2 ) [WP]
Arionna de la Babin
To Elijah this is normal. To him this is life.
To Arionna this is frightening, or would be if it were any other moment, and if she were carefully thinking over, not just the actions but the repercussions.
She's letting someone into the soft parts of herself. Her own fear. Her own anger. She's letting someone close, and that is dangerous. Because people...people lie. People lie and tell you what you want, or what someone else wants just so that they can get what they desire in the end. She knows. She's been on the receiving end of it. Kindness is never really kindness. But Ari seems to have forgotten that. She seems to have let it go for the sake of a sensation she's secretly craved. While everyone else has someone, why can't she?
He knows...he knows what he's doing, oh she can tell, and oh....oh how she'll enjoy it. Each touch feels so.. oh so...but ...she wants to feel, to feel it in a way that is magical.
He nips, he doesn't break the skin, his lips leave her, caress her jaw, move along her skin and ...Ari bite her own lip, draws blood inside of her mouth, feeling the copper mix with her saliva. It's teh cold that washes over her, the way her skin lowers in temperature and suddenly...suddenly she can feel everything so much more. Each touch is beyond any pleasure she knows. Beyond words to even express it.
Her lips part, the heavy breathes falling out rapidly. Even the sound of her own enjoyment escape her, rolling out softly into his ear. Her fingers glide over his skin, moving up and over his shoulders because now she can feel more than just curves. She can feel everything.
Elijah
[per+aware, did you just do something? +1 REALLY distracted]
Dice: 7 d10 TN7 (2, 2, 4, 5, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )
Elijah
[Prime 1: What did you just do? -1 quint (no, really, what did you just do)]
Dice: 2 d10 TN4 (2, 2) ( fail )
Elijah
[+1 diff, come ON]
Dice: 2 d10 TN6 (6, 10) ( success x 3 ) [WP]
Elijah
There is a sensation, something that is cold and plays on his senses, the ones that are not readily exposed but his senses none the less, Elijah inhales something centering, knows that he wants to know, even as he's kissing her neck, even as he can feel her heart boating, can feel her body reactingand he moves with purpose.
He seems confident but she can feel his fingertips tremble slightly. She can feel his breath go shallow and his focus swing wide as he's caught in how overwhelming the sensations can be. He feels the whole world, and she is, at that juncture, his whole world. He's so warm and almost fevered and she can feel and knows the last time he's had a drink (this morning), the place where one of his wrists wasn't quite as strong as the other, how there may have once been some injury he doesn't talk about, feels the resilience in his frame and the remnants of the punishment he puts himself through.
He's all potential, this one, so eager to act, so eager to snuff it out. He lives dangerously, and that's threaded through every bit of his pattern. She can feel it when he moves, travels upward and his fingertips graze the outside of her thigh, only to move to the inside and stroke downward to her knee.
He pulls away and says something, and it doesn't sound like words,not like anything in any human language but the way he says it is beautiful, is purposeful but distracted. He knows what he wants, and the world pushes back. The world insists that he can't have what he wants and that sweet murmur against her flesh is chased by him pulling back, with words move insistent and primed and intense. This is what he spoke of, there's a weight to what he says, a sense of purpose, of sacredness- it has no analogue, lost to the air once spoken and driving home a purpose and he can feel it.
He pulls back in, close enough to whisper something to her, "I didn't know too many other people used magic as foreplay. Brava."
She can feel the grin on his face, the heat in his cheeks, the way he's trying so. damn. hard to keep his composure.
Arionna de la Babin
df4 +1 distract -1 night - Corr, Life]
Dice: 1 d10 TN4 (2) ( success x 1 ) [WP]
Arionna de la Babin
If there were some place, some beautiful place where there is no pain, no suffering, no... no anger or hate, she's in it. It's just this moment. This moment when she calls, secretly, to her goddess, when she bends and sways with the night to seek out what a woman like her does... without fear...
Arionna can feel him, and her, and everything about the two of them, and it's strange how she feels. She's never felt this close to another person, and yet at that moment, she feels like they could be one person.
She shifts, if only to open up the space between her knees, between her thighs. There was no denying how good she felt, and how badly she wanted to stay there, in that moment for as long as she could. Even his words against her skin feel delicious. It's the small puffs of breath in a particular way, the warmth that comes from them and fall on her own.
Arionna lets out a laugh. It's short, soft, and so devoid of any hesitation, of any fear or worry. She finds his words amusing. She pulls back so that their lips are close to one another, so very close and ready to touch... "Unum exulta mecum," They are soft, spilled out in a voice dripping with her own desire, built up by magic. Arionna takes his lips almost hard, giving him the small beads of blood that have persisted.
And it's the cold from her lips that seeps into him. The cold of her skin, the feel of the frost gliding past her and all along his own form. Let him feel it too.
Elijah
And he tastes iron, pulls into the movement and tastes what is there and they're both aware at that moment, it's almost overwhelming, almost too much but he rides that line because it dares to push, dares to stay on his senses and there is that moment, that one, glorious moment that everything is going to come about and make the world come to life. He tastes iron, tastes copper and he isn't afraid of it.
Why would he be? The idea that they are separate is bullshit, the idea that they are anything except connected by the heartbeat of the universe doesn't dawn on him, he doesn't see anything separate. There is some part of his body that wants to seize, wants to stay the breath in his lungs and tell him he's dying, he's dying, it's ended this way before but that point doesn't matter. He isn't afraid of death, not when he really thinks of it. Not when it pushes forward, not when he is chasing that moment.
Elijah let out a sound, something of breathless approval, and he does press forward, betwixt her thighs and upward still- across fabric that stands as the only barrier between his hand and her body, and he doesn't press. Doesn't push bast that particular barrier because heavens, oh heavens he is a tease. Heavens, oh heavens, there is something that he knows, something that he holds back, something that he reminds himself because she's said it before- she didn't want to be part of some harem. She wasn't one to share, even if he insisted to the contrary that there wasn't any sharing. He pushed forward, traced a gentle line across her body and there was that damnable grin on his face.
The one that could take the world should he flash it, the kind that rides the line between being a cad and being playful.
Arionna de la Babin
Maybe she's diving in because, like him, she's afraid. She's afraid of giving in, of someone pretending to be there, only to pull it away. She's afraid of being alone while everyone else is moving forward, laughing. So maybe she's diving in the way you dive into a pool on a hot summer day to feel the cold all at once, to take it all in one moment instead of dragging it out. Ripping the bandaid off, getting it over with. Maybe....
But she's not thinking because she's not on the ground. She's somewhere else and she's enjoying it. It'll die eventually and she'll be left with something so normal and mundane (oh god it feels good, but not as good as it does now). Elijah has the good sense, so far, not to move forward, but to tease!
There is no denying that what he's doing, touching the soft, sensitive parts between her thighs, is working. There was no denying it because the sounds were sliding out from between her lips, and the soft motions of her hips wanting to move into him, to make him move just a little faster...and a little harder.
He remembers her words, but all she can think about is how she feels now, not later. Now while she feels hot and cold, while she feels like her body is rising to a place she's never been before...He holds back, Arionna steam rolls forward. Now more than ever. Pushing her own will on the universe has made it so much harder now to hold back, to think, to be rational.
She pulls back enough to peel her shirt off, dropping it by the wayside, the dark lace of her bra the only thing holding back parts of her skin from view; it isn't very successful, they never really are. She reaches forward to pull off his shirt entirely. Not just unbuttoning it, not letting it linger, no naked. Skin exposed. All of it.
Elijah
He knows this, he knows that when you're in the moment, when you're riding the waves of the moment, when you're overwhelmed by the pupose of it all, he knows that you don't push too hard too fast. You don't dive into moments like this, not when they're those fledgling new moments, you don't barrel through an experience that is meant to be savored. And maybe there are thoughts, maybe there are moments contemplating sacred passions or maybe that's just a part of him by virtue of having learned some things from Sera.
And she's peeling off her shirt and he looks elated, looks at her with those green-and-amber eyes, pupils blown out because arousal does strange things to people and she's like some other drug he's pushed before, but this is better. This is real, this is natural and she's not taking her time, she's stripped away his shirt, the vest falling along with it with a plunk of metal hitting wood floor.
But he looks at her, with the kind of sincerity that he can't fake, and he's pushing in to kiss her again, to ease her back to a slightly more comfortable position because he has plans, he has thoughts, he pulls back long enough to breathe, "this isn't about me."
He moves down , hands back to her thighs and not quite paying attention to himself, because he'd said it clear this isn't about me. He moves, and heavens he can't help but look at her, can'thelp but feel the chill of winter in his lungs and he loves every blessed second of it.
"This moment, right now, it entirely for you. And you shouldn't be ashamed to have something that is yours, if only for a moment."
Arionna de la Babin
There is a freedom here. There is a freedom in riding her instincts.
She spends so much time thinking, so much time dwelling and pushing everyone away that it's exhausting. But here? Right now? There's no thought, no logical calculations, no careful considerations. It's all just following who she is, what she wants, and never apologizing.
She leans back, her legs sliding out from under her to stretch, to shift. She wraps her hand in his hair, taking his lips with a sense of passion, of desire that hadn't been there even moments ago. It's like someone drowning and needing air, someone starving and needing food.
Ari strips her skirt from her hips, pulls it away like some annoyance. Dark panties, the same swirl and pattern as her bra, and clinging, barely to her hips. He says it's not about him, but Arionna leans back on her arms, her dark hair spilling out along the floor. With her legs stretched, she wrapped her ankles around him and pulled, tightening her legs the closer he might have come. There's a smile that's on her face, almost as playful as his own had been, almost as mischievous. "It's about us."
Elijah
[God damnit, Elijah, have some composure! WP]
Dice: 5 d10 TN8 (1, 3, 3, 4, 9) ( success x 1 )
Elijah
"You're sure about this?" he asks, just waiting, needing confirmation before he went forward because he knows what her limits are, knows even though he desperately wants to press forward that she wants something to keep and... well... Elijah isn't one for keeping. Not for long, anyways. Not the way Arionna wanted.
Arionna de la Babin
[do I?[
Dice: 2 d10 TN4 (1, 1) ( botch x 2 )
Elijah
[gah, I shoulda rolled temp]
Dice: 3 d10 TN8 (7, 9, 9) ( success x 2 )
Arionna de la Babin
There's a growl that starts in her throat. It's very much a feral growl, one born of irritation. Her brows even furrow in the dark, and those green eyes of her seem to glint, turning almost into dark orbs. Oh it's only the play of the light, certainly, but there might even be a moment where it feels real. Her lips even curl back just enough to give him a show of her teeth.
Her legs tighten rather quickly, jerking him into her as she latched am arm around his neck, curling roughly in his hair. Those pants? Her panties? They are coming off...rather quickly, rather haphazardly, because... how dare you question it.
She shifts her weight, rolls him on his back so that she now lays above him, her dark strands falling around her face and his. Her legs straddle his abdomen while she reaches back slowly, sliding her hand down and along to his own sex, stroking him. "I think I know what I want."
Elijah
Something shifts at that moment, it's almost an exchange of power but one he doesn't give up easily, something that he doesn't really even recognize but there is that shift, there is that moment where she growls and he locks eyes with her, and there is a moment where some part of his mind recognizes he shouldn't keep her gaze, shouldn't challenge something feral but there is that part of him that Will Not Back Down. It happens quick, she's pulling him in, her hand tightens in his hair and steals the breath from his lungs, enough that he makes a sound, grits his teeth and tries not to wring those moments of pleasure out of him.
Because something shifted, and that grin on his face was first surprise, and then testing. Then challenging, because there were things to do. He has half the presence of mind to help with his pants, and thank everything he discarded his shoes and socks previously (because he just does that, he doesn't keep his shoes on if he's going to be inside for any extended period of time.
How dare he question her, and he pulls in, arches his back into her touch, feels every blessed, solid inch of himself ache because damn if this wasn't what he wanted. He sat up, just enough to put his hand on the back of her neck, just enough to look at her and his posture not at all cowed. His breathing tense, his focus pinpoint, and he didn't leave her face, wouldn't cry out in ecstasy even though every nerve ending wanted.
"I'm not an easy prize," he purred, half laughs with it because he's struggling to keep composure, his cheeks flushed, as though this was part of the fun. The hunt, the chase, the kill.
Arionna de la Babin
She pulls her hand from him, shifting her hips down just close enough, close enough that he can feel her heat. In some other time, she'll probably say she doesn't know what came over her, what it was that sparked that inside of her, only that it did, and she was angry at being asked...asked after all that! She knows what she wants!
Right now she's looking down at him, sliding her hands along his chest until her fingers reach his throat. Arionna leans in with her face just above his own. "Prize?" She asks, though it's not a quizzical tone so much as a question of who-do-you-think-you-are? "You're not a prize."
Her fingers tightened just enough around his throat to make her point, just enough to give her control, just enough to make her feel...empowered. "You're dinner."
Her hips slid further, gliding over him, letting him feel her entirely before she reached down to slip him in. It was all just fun wasn't it? Elijah clearly had no reservations. He wanted it, she knew he did...
Elijah
[are we composed?]
Dice: 3 d10 TN9 (4, 7, 9) ( success x 1 )
Elijah
He is aware of all of her, of glistening womanhood and beating heart and sweat just barely taking its place on their skin. She could say at some point that she doesn't know what came over her, but Elijah knows better, knows from the look in her eyes that this is instinct. This isn't a scared and shy young woman, this is a different beast entirely.
Her face is above his and he leans in, feels the warmth of her breath and his posture radiates challenge, his body on edge and there is tension in every piece of his form, there is a moment when she slides herself over him, where he can feel her and feel that moment of entry and she's so. fucking. tight and absolutely breathtaking, only to feel her hand around his throat. THat moment where she tightens it around his neck, the moment when breathing becomes a little more difficult and some part of him screams that he isn't in control.
There is a part of him that wants to give up that control, to let her have whatever she wants and throw himself in with reckless abandon, but there is another part that screams against his needs for satisfaction and insist that his will not be subjugated to anothers, a part of him that wants to fight even though his resistance most assuredly was for show.
He wanted this, ran his hand through her hair and pulled her face to his, let his lips meet hers again and there was the barest remnant of that coppery iron taste still lingering on his memory. he rolls his hips, movement on impulse, on autopilot, because he needed to move, because he needed that moment of friction, he needed to feel Arionna in every sense of the word. Her pattern her body, all sensory overload.
he pulls back just long enough to gasp, just long enough to close his eyes are bright and defiant and he feels very bit of his chaos, every bit a tempest beneath her. "And what if your prey isn't so easily caught?"
he eggs her on, insists, his heart is pounding and he's elated. He's ready, he's invested in the moment like he is ready for satisfaction to be an arms race.
Arionna de la Babin
His lips. She never realized how much she liked them until she kissed them. She didn't realize how much she liked him until she touched him, tore off his clothes and just...But now he's being defiant against her, pushing against the very idea of it, and a part of her doesn't even understand why. Isn't this his thing? Doesn't he enjoy this? Oh he does.. she can see he does...
Ari sits up, keeping him still and slowly clenching the muscles that surround him. Slowly, carefully, she removes her bra and drops it on the ground.
"Then I'll do it myself, In. Private. Or maybe...I'll find someone else to play with." She stares down at him, no smile, no grin, just waiting.
"So, what will it be?" Ari, with her muscles tightened, rotates her hips up and down, almost to taunt him with it. "If you're really willing to give it up to someone else... "
Elijah
And there is the contradiction, because there was a sort of joy in the defiance, a sort of aching, desperate wanting, to push against someone before yielding, and rest assured he would yield. He knew himself too well, loved the moment that she teased, that she taunted and tempted like some self aware goddess. Like someone that knew her needs and knew her wants and would have them on her own terms.
"Bon Dieu, je veux que tu me baises - S'il vous plaît-" and it just comes out, because he isn't thinking and English is hard and she knows precisely what she's doing and she knows what his pattern does and his heart is pounding and he wants her, more than he wanted anything tonight, more than he wanted her forgiveness at the beginning of the evening he wants her, all of her, at that juncture. "I mean-" he stumbles, realizing that there aren't words- "fuck-" he curses.
"God damn it don't leave," his hands tense on her thighs, tight and desperate to keep his composure and he can't. "Just fuck me, you have me, don't leave-" I need you that tone said, and it was a need based out of lust but he was hers right then, if only for a moment, if only for right then she was the one in control and he was caught. He was there, he was in that blessed moment where taunting and teasing was gone and she had him.
Arionna de la Babin
She leans down, stretching her spine as she did and placed her hands neatly on his chest. No.. she placed her hands on his chest as if to crouch, as if she found some small little creature she wanted to look at...lazily. And she looked right in his eyes, her lips curling up into a slow grin.
Ari lowered her lips down slowly, placing them softly next to his ear. "I know." She whispered at him, shifting her hips again, bracing herself against his chest as she did. She moved her hips slow at first, gaining speed only momentarily before the words "Like this? No...this is more your speed." The soft breath against his ear, though just as shallow as it had been before. Her hips slowed again, almost to nothing...
"Are you sure you want it?" It's a turn on his own questioning of her desires. "I could find someone else..."She was...enjoying it. Not just the sex, though god the way it felt...the way it felt when he moved, when she'd tighten around him and feel him...but the sense of power, of ownership.Hers...
She waited, patiently for the words she wanted to hear, sliding her hips, tight as they were, in a slow motion.
Elijah
She knoiws, oh how she knows that she has him, that he wouldn't leave if his life depended on it. She crouches over him, his eyes stay with hers and while there is that defiant part, that part that fights, it's on the backburner, it's quelched by the part of his brain that insisted that desire reign, he was not easy prey but in the end he rather enjoyed bing caught. She knew what she was doing. She knewhis pattern, knew his body, knew every blessed reaction and he could feel hers.
Her heartbeat, the calmness and the desire, but he didn't know her motives, didn't know her mind as well as he would think. There is a sense of power there, something he feels the need to give up, control that had to be released in order to guaranty that she didn't stop, that she didn't leave. Was he sure he wanted this- she used every thing against him, those moments of teasing returned threefold.
"I want this, I want you right. fucking. now," he insists, but there are things he doesn't say, things he doesn't commit to, because that defiant part of his brain knows, knows that she's looking for being just hers, only hers, forever and always and that part of his brain is insistent, that part of his brain still rests that little bit of control but he moves his hips and there's quiet desperation, that moment where there is almost fear, that creeping dread that she might leave, that she might stop and his body craved attention. Yearned for satisfaction.
"You. Have. Me."
Each word punctuated, like it was the only way he could struggle to keep his breath.
Arionna de la Babin
It pleases her well enough. The begging, the desire, the need that he expresses pleases her well enough that she begins to move. Not slow or soft, but she rolls her hips hard, building up speed.
Now even she could feel her own desire growing again. She didn't want to stop anymore than he did. She wanted to move harder, faster, and oh god nothing could ever reach far enough. But she kept rolling into him, tightening around him, not because she chose to, but because she was rising with him.
Elijah
It was enough, it was too much, and that defiant part of him was left to fend off desire and insist that he not finish, not yet, not until she was there, and he moved with her, something in sync. Something that kept going, kept focused, something that was driven towards a goal and his hands did roam, up her sides over her breasts- his thumbs grazing over her nipples and reveling in the temperature differences.
They had needs, and there was relief, yes, that she had taken his offering as acceptable. Elijah shuddered, pushed forward. He could feel his heart jump into his throat, his heart pounding too hard his body tensing. "S'il vous plait," he repeats, defers in tone and insists that she has control over that situation.
So damnably formal, this one, the difference lost to those who didn't speak the language but he can't think and English is harder than- well, now, no need to get vulgar, but...
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