08-06-2023, 07:00 PM
Relief loosened a knot in her chest when his hand tightened naturally around hers. The lights back to shore were slow but sure, and she was quiet in the captivation, accepting it for the solace it was. In the connection between them her heart beat steady, and for perhaps the first time since she left the Tower her thoughts were still. Light knew that grin had always been her undoing. “Utterly,” she agreed. Her lips flickered a smirk, coaxed to the fore, but it fell to something softer soon after.
In honesty Nythadri wanted more than it was wise to take. Memorable seemed a fine enough compromise when they could tally the consequences later, but so sharp promised the cruelty now that even she was unsure she could weather the aftermath. A fall from the heights of self-imposed duty would be painful for him, and she did not want to remember it that way. She’d seen the distressed plea of his expression earlier, and she was afraid of the fragility still in this moment as much as she was prepared to protect every second of it. So if she led his hands to the laces of her dress it was in tender intimacy, and a quiet direction of his help. The blood dried down her front disturbed her. He knew well enough she was not squeamish. Yet if it seeped through to the shift beneath, Nythadri was desperate not to see it. Her gaze remained uplifted to his, her returned touches soft and practical. She recognised restraint but she had no defences against him. It was trust and torture in equal measure.
Finally in the steam and water, Jai drifted for a while. She left him to the quiet of those horizons, glad to see the slide of his lids fall low. Perhaps time and rest would alleviate some of the fractures torn wide tonight. Truthfully it was not something they had in any abundance, yet she was masterful in this bubble of their isolation, and fully prepared to shoulder the burden of their situation while she fought for them. The world could wait a while at least; let him find at least a little peace. In the meantime the heat was pleasant, and she was blessedly glad to feel clean. Though she did not relax back the same way, unsure what strength the lull would erode that she might still need. Her thoughts circled tiredly as she pressed the water over her face like she could soothe it all away.
For a while she thought he might sleep, but when he roused to speak she listened, her attention full on the moment. Shadows limned his face but not the tremendous rawness in his eyes when he finally opened them. Nythadri understood the offerings of a confessional, though she chose to hear only the intimacy of what was given, not the reasons why. It was why she did not interrupt. Yet she heard something else, too. In the softness between words. In the fact he shared at all. It stirred something in her, as delicate as a second kiss in the ocean when neither of them were thinking about tomorrow.
Then his attention phased out again, and the awakening of power brought a cup to her surprised hand even as he spoke to air. It was fleeting, yet felt like the unexpected slide of a blade between her ribs; the kind of puncture that threatened a slow and unavoidable loss. Confusion reigned in its wake soon after, and acknowledgement drew Jai blank when the pieces fit the dismal picture. Nythadri did not look away from it, though her breathing had grown a little shallow. She’d be utterly foolish not to feel a flutter of fear, knowing what it meant. “I would suggest we just get spectacularly drunk, but to be honest that advice has never served me well in practice,” she said into the void of his silence. The humour in her sparked morbid and familiar, seeking like kind in that hellscape of recognition. Nythadri had no face for pity, and no caution for the path she knew she would take despite it. “Nor you, come to think of it. Plus, I do not actually think there is enough wine.”
She smirked and balanced the cup on the tub’s rim, her pale eyes seeking something else from him then. She wanted to close the distance, and she felt it more keenly when she knew he would be apt to draw away from affection he might not feel he deserved. Faced with such stark evidence of the danger he presented, she knew he would be thinking about the worst of possibilities. Adding yet another fistful of gravedirt on the ending he had already written for himself. Light how could he not? He was dangerous.
“The first time I ever saw the sea was with you,” she told him then, soft with the offering of that memory between them, realising not for the first time that it was something precious. Like world’s end, he’d called it. And she’d laughed, told him things were rarely as they seemed.
The water sent a blush against his skin as it lapped with every shift. Her gaze followed the warm skin up to his eyes. Light only knew what he was thinking now. If she trusted herself she would have moved closer. “I know you want to do the right thing,” she said. “That you push on because you know no other path to follow.” Words he’d said to her months before, the last time duty and desire met at her crossroads and found a resolute knot in the road. “So light Jai, let me show you a different way for us to go.”
In honesty Nythadri wanted more than it was wise to take. Memorable seemed a fine enough compromise when they could tally the consequences later, but so sharp promised the cruelty now that even she was unsure she could weather the aftermath. A fall from the heights of self-imposed duty would be painful for him, and she did not want to remember it that way. She’d seen the distressed plea of his expression earlier, and she was afraid of the fragility still in this moment as much as she was prepared to protect every second of it. So if she led his hands to the laces of her dress it was in tender intimacy, and a quiet direction of his help. The blood dried down her front disturbed her. He knew well enough she was not squeamish. Yet if it seeped through to the shift beneath, Nythadri was desperate not to see it. Her gaze remained uplifted to his, her returned touches soft and practical. She recognised restraint but she had no defences against him. It was trust and torture in equal measure.
Finally in the steam and water, Jai drifted for a while. She left him to the quiet of those horizons, glad to see the slide of his lids fall low. Perhaps time and rest would alleviate some of the fractures torn wide tonight. Truthfully it was not something they had in any abundance, yet she was masterful in this bubble of their isolation, and fully prepared to shoulder the burden of their situation while she fought for them. The world could wait a while at least; let him find at least a little peace. In the meantime the heat was pleasant, and she was blessedly glad to feel clean. Though she did not relax back the same way, unsure what strength the lull would erode that she might still need. Her thoughts circled tiredly as she pressed the water over her face like she could soothe it all away.
For a while she thought he might sleep, but when he roused to speak she listened, her attention full on the moment. Shadows limned his face but not the tremendous rawness in his eyes when he finally opened them. Nythadri understood the offerings of a confessional, though she chose to hear only the intimacy of what was given, not the reasons why. It was why she did not interrupt. Yet she heard something else, too. In the softness between words. In the fact he shared at all. It stirred something in her, as delicate as a second kiss in the ocean when neither of them were thinking about tomorrow.
Then his attention phased out again, and the awakening of power brought a cup to her surprised hand even as he spoke to air. It was fleeting, yet felt like the unexpected slide of a blade between her ribs; the kind of puncture that threatened a slow and unavoidable loss. Confusion reigned in its wake soon after, and acknowledgement drew Jai blank when the pieces fit the dismal picture. Nythadri did not look away from it, though her breathing had grown a little shallow. She’d be utterly foolish not to feel a flutter of fear, knowing what it meant. “I would suggest we just get spectacularly drunk, but to be honest that advice has never served me well in practice,” she said into the void of his silence. The humour in her sparked morbid and familiar, seeking like kind in that hellscape of recognition. Nythadri had no face for pity, and no caution for the path she knew she would take despite it. “Nor you, come to think of it. Plus, I do not actually think there is enough wine.”
She smirked and balanced the cup on the tub’s rim, her pale eyes seeking something else from him then. She wanted to close the distance, and she felt it more keenly when she knew he would be apt to draw away from affection he might not feel he deserved. Faced with such stark evidence of the danger he presented, she knew he would be thinking about the worst of possibilities. Adding yet another fistful of gravedirt on the ending he had already written for himself. Light how could he not? He was dangerous.
“The first time I ever saw the sea was with you,” she told him then, soft with the offering of that memory between them, realising not for the first time that it was something precious. Like world’s end, he’d called it. And she’d laughed, told him things were rarely as they seemed.
The water sent a blush against his skin as it lapped with every shift. Her gaze followed the warm skin up to his eyes. Light only knew what he was thinking now. If she trusted herself she would have moved closer. “I know you want to do the right thing,” she said. “That you push on because you know no other path to follow.” Words he’d said to her months before, the last time duty and desire met at her crossroads and found a resolute knot in the road. “So light Jai, let me show you a different way for us to go.”