the matter of petrana's brief abduction has been little addressed, beyond the necessities. of which there have been fewer than there might have been, all told, by dint of the hundred other things: she and john had been well out of it before anyone had known there was anything for them to be out of, had returned bearing enemy intelligence of greater priority, and into a new chaos.
but hers is not the only difficult experience recently glossed over, and when she has marcus to herself of an evening — julius, working — she remarks, as they wend their way through conversation and smoke, )
I might have thought to apologise for keeping it from you in the immediate, if I were not inclined to think us even afterwards.
So much so that once he'd been finally informed of Petrana's status, and John's along with it, there'd been scarcely room to feel offense at having been left out of the worrying. It had also been so apparent, its purpose, that he hadn't even demanded of Julius why, nor Petrana, occupied more with holding her closely for as long as she'd allow. It was clear, anyway, why. And, evidently, something of a shared instinct.
Recovered well enough now, with some new scars laid into his shoulder to mark the occasion. The sharper funneling of smoke through his nose indicates something like a laugh. ]
You'll have to find some other way to wrong me, then. I'd like to listen to an apology someday.
( her look is fond and her tone arch when she says, )
I shall remind you, upon the occasion, that you had said as much.
( and so she is and must remain: above reproach.
a little self-parody goes a long way, in her view. she is hardly insensible of her own air. beneath the table between them, she bumps her foot against his; tucked warmly within one of probably julius's socks. )
[ He is wearing his own socks, as it happens, and she will feel an answering nudge back. Dressed comfortably for the retiring evening, hair down, looser for a glass of wine or two. ]
Before the apology, if I'm afforded the preference.
[ They could also both apologise. That's another way of interpretting a sense of evenness.
it would be a fair assessment to say that petrana may in fact owe julius an apology. it would be more appealing to say out loud if she felt she would have any leg to stand on in suggesting that they both might owe him one, really, but—
well, it doesn't quite feel the same, does it, when marcus bears the scars of his grievous wound and she has come out of her mishap unscathed and at profit. had it been terrifying? had it been terrible? and yet. )
I have long known him to be a most patient man, ( is what she finally says, ) but I have pressed him to be rather strenuously, I suspect.
[ He considers her across the table, considers staying quiet just to see if she will elaborate on her own, but given that the risk is likely that she would sooner turn the conversation, he says, ]
A shame for all that patience to go to waste, if it went untested,
[ which is not exculpation for either of them and the way they might be trying, but maybe nudges the tenor of the conversation back somewhere light. ]
I'm certain he's only glad to have you back, and me upright.
( if she isn't certain of only, she is — typically — unwilling to be the one to push at something difficult in its place. willing to be light, instead, tipping her hand in agreement or near enough, saying, )
Tried and tested, our Julius.
( most effectively. she's terribly proud of him, in a way that is not at all abstract. but not as pressing in this moment, all the same, as, )
He was rather nearer the thing, with your injury. I don't believe I've had the full accounting of it.
[ A subtle roll of the shoulder in question is barely conscious, a flex down the line towards where his thumb rolls his cigarette. ]
I got too near to a dracolisk that I thought Julius had pinned, but I think it was merely caught in its own equipment. It was my intention to kill it with my blade, conserve my energy, but it went at me.
[ He brings up the cigarette. ]
Julius afforded me the killing blow. But it was the poison that set in within the next few hours, after.
( there was nothing, she knows, that she could have done if she had known earlier what had happened to him. if julius had told her, when she'd reached out to downplay her own abduction, she could have done nothing with that information but worry over it anxiously in a situation that despite her assurances of their safety did require her full attention and faculties to navigate.
marcus could no more have helped her, the very same rationale, but she dislikes it much more from this side.
there is much to say on it, she's sure. sensible things. she will think of them, in a moment, but first of all she simply covers his hand with her own and holds it tight against all of the things she wishes to say that are not sensible at all, only struck by the precariousness of their lives. )
[ Marcus glances down at that clutch to his hand, and curls his fingers to return it in some small measure. Smoke drifts lazily out with the next breath, having taken it into his lungs, and he reaches to set cigarette aside into the ashtray near his arm.
That way, he can have that hand join in, a touch that maps against the back of her wrist, a thumb settling in a divot of bone.
He doesn't seek to relieve tension when it's found, typically, so there are a few moments of allowing them both to rest in it before he says, ] They're not very much like horses, after all, [ with a faint impression of a smile, because he is alright, and so is she.
And they will be here again. He will nearly die due to the nature of his work and his existence and may do so in such a manner that both will be told of it or be near it, and Petrana even if she chose to remain in their room from hereon out will still be a rifter who could vanish between his hands right now, and Julius insists on making so much of what could be a desk job—
Well, he can joke a little about underestimating the large lizard creature who nearly killed him. ]
( in spite of herself, she makes a sound that's very like a laugh, twisting her hand until she can entangle their fingers together, tightly. he can joke a little, if he likes. she can nearly manage to laugh at it, even. )
And there I was, afraid you'd try to do something rash if you knew the trouble we'd got ourselves into.
( though, considering him now, she isn't entirely certain she wouldn't have still been right to— )
( she says, terribly mildly, instead of the number of much more strident objections that come to mind— it is been and done and they aren't having an argument, even if she's making a note, now, to hone her arguments in advance of this coming up again.
it is dangerously likely to come up again. )
We would be no good without you, any more. You know.
[ This first thing earns a quiet, but definitive laugh, understated but rare. No, they aren't having an argument. Maybe if he'd made it out of the battle whole, there'd be room for aggravation, hurt feelings, hurt pride. As it stands, it is much better, and much easier, to simply be relieved it all worked out.
And the trace smile fades without any drop in temperature. Considers that statement, the parts of it he mislikes, the parts of it he can't help but appreciate.
Her hand still in his, he draws it up, presses a fond kiss to her curled fingers. ]
( her faint, lingering smile is lopsided as what follows is at its heart more acceptance of it is good, simply, that we are all still here to feel any way about it than it is critique of any kind— )
And I also would be obviously bereft without either of you,
( the lamorran accent is not designed to craft a person well-suited to imitating a starkhavener. )
( twisting her hand to use their grip to draw him nearer to her, she says, )
I cannot be terribly sorry for not wishing to put you to further, unnecessary ill. Is it so unforgivably wrong of me to care as much for you as you do for me?
( surely she is the best of women, actually. has he considered that. )
[ He is easily drawn, a leaning out of his seat. Gives a rumble of a sound at this flourish to the argument they're hardly having. He could explain how it would tear him apart, to have done nothing when he could have possibly done something. That she hadn't known he was as hurt as he was, that she might have anticipated him perfectly capable.
But also: she is here, and beckoning him. He can do this, place his hand up under her jaw, warm against her throat. He can instead say, ]
Right, as always,
[ because they are here, both, alive and well, and he wishes to kiss her—which he does—rather than bicker. ]
( sometimes, there are benefits to rewarding bad behaviour.
this, as she warms to his touch, as she returns that kiss and returns for another— is one of them. it has only a little awkwardness for setting aside the remainder of a burning down cigarette that she might more easily transport herself from her own chair to his lap, where kissing him should require less strain on either of them.
beyond the emotional, obviously. and how incredibly tiresome she can be, when she's smug. )
[ He helps her along, a hand at her waist, a contented sound at the easy and assuring weight of her on his thighs. She is a myriad of familiar shapes and textures, from rigid stays to the fold and drape of inexpensive skirt fabric, and more intimately, the press of the kiss between them, including this altered angled. But familiarity doesn't equate to any sense of having had his share.
And there is a more discordant pang at the core of it. That there could well have been some last time, and they wouldn't have known it, then.
His hand (likewise now rid of cigarette) comes up to push fingers through her hair as he guides them both into a more ardent kiss than the last. ]
it always feels a little like something stolen. time, love, light. in this room, with him, with julius, joy snatched before it can be snatched away; it's there in the way she touches him now, the grip of her fingers at his jaw, tilting him where she can make the most of him. she twists a fist into her skirts, hitching petticoats enough that she can set a knee between his, slot them together, closer, flutter against him the softer and costlier fabric underneath all her unremarkable sheet-blues. )
You feel alive to me, ( a murmur, against his mouth. ) Lively.
[ A reflexively held breath when she repositions, the press of Marcus' hand helping her along a little late. But once she's there, he makes the most of it in turn. Well, not the most, but some—his hand getting up under her outer skirt, blindly navigating the fall of petticoat and lace until his hand finds her bare thigh.
Presses his thumb against softer skin, tempting and close. Under her mouth, his kisses are momentarily pliant and easy, distracted and instinctively giving under the feeling of her hand at his jaw. ]
Do I, [ murmured back. ] Best make the most of it, then.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action.
the matter of petrana's brief abduction has been little addressed, beyond the necessities. of which there have been fewer than there might have been, all told, by dint of the hundred other things: she and john had been well out of it before anyone had known there was anything for them to be out of, had returned bearing enemy intelligence of greater priority, and into a new chaos.
but hers is not the only difficult experience recently glossed over, and when she has marcus to herself of an evening — julius, working — she remarks, as they wend their way through conversation and smoke, )
I might have thought to apologise for keeping it from you in the immediate, if I were not inclined to think us even afterwards.
( captain got poisoned. )
no subject
So much so that once he'd been finally informed of Petrana's status, and John's along with it, there'd been scarcely room to feel offense at having been left out of the worrying. It had also been so apparent, its purpose, that he hadn't even demanded of Julius why, nor Petrana, occupied more with holding her closely for as long as she'd allow. It was clear, anyway, why. And, evidently, something of a shared instinct.
Recovered well enough now, with some new scars laid into his shoulder to mark the occasion. The sharper funneling of smoke through his nose indicates something like a laugh. ]
You'll have to find some other way to wrong me, then. I'd like to listen to an apology someday.
no subject
I shall remind you, upon the occasion, that you had said as much.
( and so she is and must remain: above reproach.
a little self-parody goes a long way, in her view. she is hardly insensible of her own air. beneath the table between them, she bumps her foot against his; tucked warmly within one of probably julius's socks. )
no subject
Before the apology, if I'm afforded the preference.
[ They could also both apologise. That's another way of interpretting a sense of evenness.
But actually, ]
Poor Julius.
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it would be a fair assessment to say that petrana may in fact owe julius an apology. it would be more appealing to say out loud if she felt she would have any leg to stand on in suggesting that they both might owe him one, really, but—
well, it doesn't quite feel the same, does it, when marcus bears the scars of his grievous wound and she has come out of her mishap unscathed and at profit. had it been terrifying? had it been terrible? and yet. )
I have long known him to be a most patient man, ( is what she finally says, ) but I have pressed him to be rather strenuously, I suspect.
no subject
A shame for all that patience to go to waste, if it went untested,
[ which is not exculpation for either of them and the way they might be trying, but maybe nudges the tenor of the conversation back somewhere light. ]
I'm certain he's only glad to have you back, and me upright.
no subject
Tried and tested, our Julius.
( most effectively. she's terribly proud of him, in a way that is not at all abstract. but not as pressing in this moment, all the same, as, )
He was rather nearer the thing, with your injury. I don't believe I've had the full accounting of it.
no subject
[ A subtle roll of the shoulder in question is barely conscious, a flex down the line towards where his thumb rolls his cigarette. ]
I got too near to a dracolisk that I thought Julius had pinned, but I think it was merely caught in its own equipment. It was my intention to kill it with my blade, conserve my energy, but it went at me.
[ He brings up the cigarette. ]
Julius afforded me the killing blow. But it was the poison that set in within the next few hours, after.
no subject
marcus could no more have helped her, the very same rationale, but she dislikes it much more from this side.
there is much to say on it, she's sure. sensible things. she will think of them, in a moment, but first of all she simply covers his hand with her own and holds it tight against all of the things she wishes to say that are not sensible at all, only struck by the precariousness of their lives. )
no subject
That way, he can have that hand join in, a touch that maps against the back of her wrist, a thumb settling in a divot of bone.
He doesn't seek to relieve tension when it's found, typically, so there are a few moments of allowing them both to rest in it before he says, ] They're not very much like horses, after all, [ with a faint impression of a smile, because he is alright, and so is she.
And they will be here again. He will nearly die due to the nature of his work and his existence and may do so in such a manner that both will be told of it or be near it, and Petrana even if she chose to remain in their room from hereon out will still be a rifter who could vanish between his hands right now, and Julius insists on making so much of what could be a desk job—
Well, he can joke a little about underestimating the large lizard creature who nearly killed him. ]
no subject
And there I was, afraid you'd try to do something rash if you knew the trouble we'd got ourselves into.
( though, considering him now, she isn't entirely certain she wouldn't have still been right to— )
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There are harnesses for griffon riding, [ he says, a gentle rub of his thumb beside a knuckle. ] It was my shoulder that was bit, anyway, not my leg.
[ Ha ha. ]
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( she says, terribly mildly, instead of the number of much more strident objections that come to mind— it is been and done and they aren't having an argument, even if she's making a note, now, to hone her arguments in advance of this coming up again.
it is dangerously likely to come up again. )
We would be no good without you, any more. You know.
no subject
And the trace smile fades without any drop in temperature. Considers that statement, the parts of it he mislikes, the parts of it he can't help but appreciate.
Her hand still in his, he draws it up, presses a fond kiss to her curled fingers. ]
no subject
And I also would be obviously bereft without either of you,
( the lamorran accent is not designed to craft a person well-suited to imitating a starkhavener. )
no subject
And I also [ he recites, or at least starts to, sidetracked in turning her hand to kiss her palm, then high on the inside of her wrist ] obviously.
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I cannot be terribly sorry for not wishing to put you to further, unnecessary ill. Is it so unforgivably wrong of me to care as much for you as you do for me?
( surely she is the best of women, actually. has he considered that. )
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But also: she is here, and beckoning him. He can do this, place his hand up under her jaw, warm against her throat. He can instead say, ]
Right, as always,
[ because they are here, both, alive and well, and he wishes to kiss her—which he does—rather than bicker. ]
no subject
this, as she warms to his touch, as she returns that kiss and returns for another— is one of them. it has only a little awkwardness for setting aside the remainder of a burning down cigarette that she might more easily transport herself from her own chair to his lap, where kissing him should require less strain on either of them.
beyond the emotional, obviously. and how incredibly tiresome she can be, when she's smug. )
no subject
And there is a more discordant pang at the core of it. That there could well have been some last time, and they wouldn't have known it, then.
His hand (likewise now rid of cigarette) comes up to push fingers through her hair as he guides them both into a more ardent kiss than the last. ]
no subject
it always feels a little like something stolen. time, love, light. in this room, with him, with julius, joy snatched before it can be snatched away; it's there in the way she touches him now, the grip of her fingers at his jaw, tilting him where she can make the most of him. she twists a fist into her skirts, hitching petticoats enough that she can set a knee between his, slot them together, closer, flutter against him the softer and costlier fabric underneath all her unremarkable sheet-blues. )
You feel alive to me, ( a murmur, against his mouth. ) Lively.
no subject
Presses his thumb against softer skin, tempting and close. Under her mouth, his kisses are momentarily pliant and easy, distracted and instinctively giving under the feeling of her hand at his jaw. ]
Do I, [ murmured back. ] Best make the most of it, then.