A Bleached Clean Afternoon

[sl4irl.livejournal.com]

(Cleanse: home, love, faint - from Sally)

Back in the house from his gardening; that steady ritual & the slowest I’ve ever seen him. It’s one of the few part of his life I’ve never really had access to: he’d give it if I asked him, but I’ve no interest, and he seems happier with some time spent alone. He told me it was a kind of tidiness he was still getting his head around, a little like he felt towards me. Might be one of the sweetest things he’s ever said to me.

 

Bleach whipped out again, scent of it striking my nostrils. Supposedly things get stronger for the likes of me, but that just ended up with that caustic shudder becoming engraved. Never really free of it, never really a moment with him off completely my mind. Today was a light day, but as he swept by (rustle of dry cloth across the pungent white fluid, paper crackle from his wipe-clean suit) the aroma left me reeling.

 

Fighting off the nausea I refrained from the twin urges to collapse to the floor or grab at his hand. Some wincing and waiting is required in these things…Just feel relieved that someone’s picking up the slack.

Defence, defeat, detail. From lslaw.

[seph-hazard.livejournal.com]

Katarina fell backwards into Mandrake's arms and he whistled for Carridon, a slight crease of concern in his brow. She muttered something in Russian as he lifted her up and set her slumped across the ghoul horse's broad back, and Thomas motioned for him to remain still for a moment. “What was that?”
“He was behind you”, she murmured weakly. “I thought you could not see him.” She had leapt to his defence, brandishing her sabre and flooded suddenly with the fire of the warrior. It had woken something in her, something she had thought lost.
“We can talk about this later. You need to rest, to feed and heal.” Seeing her struggle Thomas had been forced to dispatch her opponent with a thrown sword, leaving himself unarmed and vulnerable.
“I'm sorry, Thomas. He would have defeated me. I ought not to have abandoned the plan.”
“We can discuss the details when you're well”, he replied, and motioned for Carridon to return Katarina to his estate.
“But the fight,” she said softly as she was carried away back to home and safety. “It felt like dancing.”

(Mortals) Bed, love, trust (from bringeroflight)

[akonken.livejournal.com]

The sun streams through the window.

She lets it filter through her closed eyelids for a while before opening one a centimeter or so and rolling it toward the travel alarm clock. 4pm. Pretty good.

She stretches in the hotel bed, rubbing her feet gently against another one.

Oh yes. David.

She turns her body to regard his prone form, his smile rising from her subconscious mind into her conscious one like a ball that had been submerged and then released. It carries with it a partial phrase - "to love and to cherish" - and residue joy.

What day is it?

She drowsily snuggles up against him, content in his warmth and that of the sunshine.

She wakes again when the sun sets and he rises.

Her first sober words to him are "I trust you, David." He doesn't seem to know how to take them, but the important thing is that he does take them.