birthrightgreen | (no subject)

(no subject)

It had been a pretty room before she started throwing things around it. If she could, she would have hurled Craft to shred the rest of it to bits, but even in her hurt and fury she had a care for her child. A human doctor might tell her that such upset wasn't good for the baby either, but there were none of those around.

Vases had splintered and mirrors were shattered in every direction. She was sobbing her fury now, at a loss for what else to do. A knife in his back, or across his throat, seemed like a plausible solution, and she wondered how much it would hurt him. If he would bleed out and have to be resurrected.

He'd promised. He'd promised. And she'd given up everything to come here. Her home. Her family. Daemon. That she could go back was no matter. She'd moved to his world, brought her Jewels and her knives and her wolf and taken up residence. She'd allowed him to seed her, when she'd fought conception every other time it seemed imminent. Trusted him enough to be here, vulnerable without her powers for nine months.

And now he was inconsolable because the bloody Watcher hadn't cried on his shoulder instead of some blue girl's. It was a slap, painful enough that it hurt to breathe. She'd been there for him, all along. Done everything she'd known to do. Been willing to be his whore, accepting Luella's position as primary in his life. And he'd made her believe...

A home. A family. Him, as her own. The two of them trying something different.

But nothing changes and it was stupid of her to think that someone like her could have those things. She smashed a piece of a mirror into smaller bits, heedless of the cuts on her hands. Without her power, without a target, she didn't know what else to do. Couldn't go home and face them. Not again. Not after Falonar. But she wouldn't be tossed aside again either. She wrapped her arms around her midsection, protective of the child growing inside, not caring about the blood she stained her skirts with. She never should have come here.

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Rainier chose to visit unexpectedly, and to perhaps make a bit of an entrance as well. It would have been better served, perhaps, if he could have been seen. But a dozen or so boxes and bags, completing the idea of ladened with gifts, preceded him by a foot or so. Exactly the length of his arms.

Which he nearly dropped when her caught her scent in the air, swirling black behind his eyes.

She'd stopped sobbing at least, staring at her hands and thinking that she should probably wash them off and change.

He watched her, choosing to take as many signals he could from her appearance, and features, as the raging that sounded in his head? How was anyone in this tower able to stand?

Sitting next to her, Rainier lifted one of the boxes and placed it next to her quietly. It was not time for his wit, or even to lead her into a dance. And they most certainly could not have an adventure or two together to bring her back from the edge. But perhaps the flowing emerald silk kimono could be the start of a conversation.

She glanced at him, startled, still not used to not drawing on her Jewels for even something as simple as a shield.

Her cheeks were tear-streaked, eyes a little haunted.

"Rainier..."

He wondered if she knew the pain that she was radiating. Oh, he had know doubt of how she felt, but what about the hurt that was flowing off her in physic rivers. He was ashamed he had not sensed it before, because Rainier did not doubt that it was in the air, even at home. He held open his arms to her, an usual gesture despite their friendship. She could not normally be found there unless they were dancing.

They danced so well together.

*Surreal?*

She curled into his arms, still quiet, arms wrapping around him tightly.

He was aware of how differently she fit into his arms, a reminder of the months that had passed.

Rainier rested his chin in her hair.

"Why do I think this is more than the loss of your Jewels?"

She shook her head a little. It seemed a betrayal to talk about it and she...wasn't sure how to say it anyway.

"It's...It will pass."

And this? Was most certainly not his Surreal. He loosened his arms enough to look down at her in question?

"Since when have we staopped facing things head on, and letting them -- " Rainier held the word in his mouth for a moment, aware of how wrong it tasted in relation to her. He was the one that let things pass. That was part of his mask. But not her. At least the her he was priledged to know. "Pass?"

There were tears in her eyes. "He...his friend. He's so angry that his friend has taken another lover. Jealous that he...chose someone besides him. As if...if he'd come to him....he would choose him over me."

He tasted blood in his mouth. It would not matter that he only wore the Opal. Opal? Would be enough.

"He has left you here alone?"

There was ice in his voice.

"I don't know where he is." She wouldn't cry again. That she was telling him anything at all was a testament to her exhaustion.

"How long as this been going on?"

He refused to hold her any tighter. To hurt her.

"I don't know." She tried to think. "A week? No more...then tonght..." She shook her head. "It was clear."

A week was far too long. A mere minute was. Surreal had placed this man in a place were he was honored enough to be allowed to Serve her. And. And this?

There was sound from the back of his throat.

"What exactly, was so clear?"

"How much he still loves him," she said softly.

The temperature of the room plumeted.

"Rainier...." She placed a hand on his arm.

It was a moment before he could manage to speak.

"Why didn't you call me?" But no, she could not have. Not even that. "Send message?"

She shook her head. "It's mine to figure out."

"Normally," he spoke carefully. Words measured just so. "I would agree with you. You know that." His own walls were down, that that in any other time should couldn't see past them. The corcern for her. For her child. But that was the point. This wasn't any other time.

"Surreal."

His voiced dipped, the low point in a painful waltz.

*The baby*

*Is his...*

Couldn't he see how that made it all so much harder? Her hand fluttered over her stomach. At two months, she was barely showing yet, but she could feel her inside.

She was tired a lot of the time, and sick in the mornings and she didn't know why women did this until she could feel that flutter of life, touch her...

And her father loved her. She was sure of that.

*And if his behaivor and ingratitude causes her harm? Causes you harm?*

*I won't let him harm her* There was a snarl in her voice.

But you are still here.

He did not speak the words, but he thought them. And any other time he would have already lost as arm for them. Possibly a leg too. Because she would have known.

He pulled her closer.