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Posted on December 27, 2013 at 02:34:41 AM by
You're trying to save me, stop holding your breath; you think I'm crazy, well that's not fair They had had this once. Only it had been so much more; more in the way the details of reality get blown up and painted over with deeper colors and sharper edges. They had had this press of bodies, but in his memory there is no tension and bottled rage, but fluidity and warm given freely. They had had this dance, this back and forth of movement and words, but the memory is of water instead of cold steel and the close threat of a cage. They had had this light - the light of stars and the moon, casting them crowns of silver and ice to wear and setting the world ablaze with all the power sparking between the two of them. Now there is only the candlelight, which is pale and so deplorably meek in comparison. She looks wrong in sickly yellow light, he thinks. He remembers her in water night black and the clean, bright white of the outdoors. This reality, however dimmed and different is all he’ll get though. Greedily, he clings to it, because the alternative is a world without Morgana, one he lived in for a lifetime he’d rather forget, one where there is no color or light at all. She hates him in this lifetime, knows him only by another man’s face and doesn’t realize his words and the other man’s are one in the same. He laughs, her snark delighting the pirate in him. He ignores the part that shimmers with disappointment at being so harshly threatened. He cannot afford to ever give heed to that part. He cannot afford to raise the dead. And Morgana has changed from the girl she once was. He already loves this version as much as the old, did from first sight, and how fitting that she has the fiery gumption to handle this version of himself. ”Oh my dearest darling! he cries, spinning her gleefully. ”A violent duel by candlelight? What a romantic you are! Stop it now, you’re being cruel. My heart doesn’t stand a chance when you flirt with me so. I’m near likely to swoon into your arms in another moment.” He punctuates his words by dragging her close once again, tightening his hold on her waist with a coy grin at her daring look. He goes so far as to spay his hand dangerously low on her spine, stretching his long fingers to cover as much ground as possible. “But I’m told it’s rather rude to engage in such behavior in front of a crowd. I would hate for your relatives to witness something meant for your eyes only, such as the impressive and most satisfying displays of skill with my...sword. Killian pauses for lewd effect and sweeps his gaze down to where their chests are all but pressed together, waiting for a tell tale blush. ”And as flattered as I am by the proposition, I’m going to help you save face in front of your kin and with sincere and wholehearted regret, decline.” He gives a dramatic sigh of regret for show. It also serves as an opportunity to spare a glance over to the guards she’d mentioned. Two at each door, they stand like extensions of the columns at each side. A retreat out the northern corridor of the castle is out of the question. He risks a glance Jack’s direction. His navigator is already looking to the guards, nine ladies now in flock around him. Killian will have to trust his partner has already thought of an acceptable alternative escape root should this visit turn suddenly sour. “Besides,” he drawls, fixing his attention again solely on the woman in his embrace, ”if you wanted my hands, there are much less bloody ways of acquiring them, you know. I told you before and I meant it. Every part of me is yours, if you’d but ask for it. Hands, eyes, heart. Body, mind, and soul.” There’s no play in his words now, the game being played forgotten in way of painful truth. He doubts she’ll notice a difference. He’s being judged by a court conditioned to accept all pirate words as false and insincere. It’s not fair, but this is a stolen moment anyway, and any confession that might fall from his lips is just an attempt to steal years away and fill the space she hollows out in him with every frown. “You are the only one to whom I’d surrender it all,” he admits, almost inaudibly. Ask me, ask me, ask me, ask me, his heart begs in rhythm to his thrumming pulse. She will not. Because this is what they have now. No more water and no more moon. Just violence and candlelight. Killian |
Replies:
- I should be over all the butterflies - By morgana December 28, 2013 at 08:57:55 PM
- You're trying to save me; stop holding your breath - By
EwanKillian January 6, 2014 at 02:33:37 AM- I should be over all the butterflies - By morgana January 8, 2014 at 05:57:04 AM
- You're trying to save me; stop holding your breath - By
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