song_tra_bong | (no subject)

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Much as she likes the bar, Mary Anne figured it was time to do a little exploring in her new home. She spent most of the afternoon walking the beach before returning to the castle. After taking a wandering route through a library, a ballroom and a weapons cache, she's back in her room, standing out on the balcony and enjoying the sea air.

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She stumbles nearer to him, still watching Coira.

blood of my bone of my heart oh my heart

Her fingers twine with his, grip tightening until her knuckles are white. She stays silent, watching.

"Time means very little for us. You've dallied about for centuries."

Coira hops down from the railing, coming closer to the couple.

"What happened to our son?"

Ruin's body stiffens. "I don't know. I don't much care, either."

Slowly, cruelly, she smiles. "You are a terrible liar. You always have been." Coira leans up and presses a lingering kiss to Ruin's lips, then steps back, smirking at Mary Anne. "It's been a pleasure to meet you, and perhaps we can... chat again sometime."

Coira walks from the balcony, disappearing into the castle, her footsteps vanishing after only half a dozen. Only when the sound of the ocean rushes into his ears does Ruin exhale a ragged breath.

Her hand hurts from holding on so tightly to his. She doesn't let go.

She wants to carve that smirk off of Coira's face.

She wants to scream at him, at the sky, at Fate itself until her lungs are empty.

She wants to ask him if he still loves her. Coira. Either of them.

She does none of these things, instead just leaning against him and resting her head on his shoulder.

He releases her hand and wraps his arms around her, kissing the crown of her head.

"My Queen," he breathes into the silken locks, closing his eyes.

(love her, Legs... love her love you but it's you my choice is you)

She sighs, low and rough. One hand curls lightly in the fabric of his shirt (an anchor).

"Hi, lover," she whispers.

He looks out over the sea, craddling her to his chest.

"An eventful day?" he asks with a wry chuckle.

"Something like that."

No laughter in her tone just yet.

"You have good timing."

She doesn't ask how long he was standing there.

He nuzzles her ear.

"Yep. Always come when the worst is about to happen." His grip tightens. "I love ya, Legs. Don't worry too much about Coira."

He didn't say not to worry at all... just... not worry too much.

She smiles faintly. "Love you, too."

Beat.

"And I won't."

Not too much, just enough.

"Come to bed," he whispers, smiling against her cheek now. "It's late."

("Haven't you wondered about it? About who he thinks of when you give him your body?")

"Of course."

She turns her head to kiss him lightly, repeating against his mouth, "Of course."

He pulls her toward her room, kissing her gently.

It was so strange, being gentle, not wanting to hurt.

(this is wrong you always want to hurt need to hurt must hurt pain and pleasure sex and blood and lust and need and)

"Bedtime for the Queen and her humble servant," he teases as he begins to strip her.

"Servant, maybe. Humble--"

She tugs his shirt over his head.

"Hardly."

He laughs, shaking his head.

"You saying I'm full of myself, Legs?" He tugs her to the bed, pressing close.

"You? Perish the thought."

She pulls away, falling back onto the bed.

"Just saying maybe...humility isn't your strongsuit."

"Not in the slightest."

He lays beside her, eyes on her face.

"You okay, Legs?" he asks quietly, seriously.

"I don't know."

She runs a hand through his hair.

"But I think I will be."

He smiles before kissing her again. Ruin pulls Mary Anne into the curve of his body, holding onto her tightly.

"If the ancient Celts had had divorce papers... I would have filed them long ago," he murmurs.

"I know you would have, lover. I know."

She presses a kiss to the hollow of his throat.

"Can we...not talk about her any more right now?" she (whispers pleads prays) asks.

He nods.

Instead, he moves to kiss her neck, shoulders, chest.

Caresses, touches, claims and learns.

A reassurance to her.

A reassurance to himself.

Kisses and touches are returned.

(haven't you wondered)

Tracing and memorizing, as if she should forget.

(haven't you wondered)

Or lose.

(haven't you wondered)

She has wondered, but not tonight. The morning, perhaps, but not tonight.

(terrible liar)

Not tonight.

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