therapize: (yeah you've got zero chance)
Camille O'Connell ([personal profile] therapize) wrote2015-02-12 06:43 pm
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[Entranceway] IC Inbox



This is Cami; sorry I'm not here right now, but leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks.
poppycock: (#10514111)

[personal profile] poppycock 2017-02-10 02:47 am (UTC)(link)
[ his fire was forged in frailty, as so many fires are. this kindled pyre is no different. he has lost her not once but twice and that agony will be his strength. for her, he would make it anything it need be.

what he needs to be now is decided. what she needs is someone to protect her at any cost, and to help her protect herself. he is no stranger nor coward to those worser truths, and the words she speaks aloud he knows bone-deep.

everyone he loves is a target. it is not he who will suffer his mirror's wrath past anxiety and grief. it's his sisters. those he loves. it's camille. the tips of his fingers weave into the hair cascading over the nape of her neck. there is fear in his eyes as she vocalizes what they both know, a hard rock of horror in his throat, but it blends and dissolves into the resolve they both need.

the resolve he has in spades and in centuries, for her.
] So we will build an army around you, and we will figure out a way.
Edited 2017-02-10 03:46 (UTC)
poppycock: (#10509526)

[personal profile] poppycock 2017-02-11 12:36 am (UTC)(link)
[ he needs no weapons from the vendors. the weapon is already here, hidden away in the recesses of wonderland where only klaus knows to look. he knows what will kill his mirror; what will stop himself. anything else or less is simply a distraction. a tool.

something flickers in his eyes at her surety, at her faith so decidedly and fully given, for however he has failed her and can fail her now, there is nothing in the world he will not do to protect her, to save her, and there is strength to take from her belief. his chin lifts. his fingertips rub gentle and unthinking caresses into the skin at the nape of her neck, into her hair: small circles that begin to twine wisps of gold.

what he's not expecting is the ferocity of her kiss, the softness and heat of her lips urgent against his. it's instinct and months—years and centuries—in the fullness of his heart's and the electricity of his body's desires to respond, his breath caught as her lips capture his, his own parting over hers.

he's not expecting it, but in her needy, seeking pursuit perhaps he should. she is frightened, upset, and after a moment of unease considering what her motives might be, he lifts a hand to touch her wrist and pulls away: to look at her, to discern her. he doesn't know what she wants, but he can guess. (the blindness of distraction. the immersion of intimacy to numb or conquer all else.

he would understand it, but he does not want to make love to her to forget.)
]
poppycock: (#10259359)

[personal profile] poppycock 2017-02-11 02:20 am (UTC)(link)
[ they are not alone in this room. there are figures and forces at work. at another time, when they are in another place, perhaps he would not hesitate. he would indulge what they both long for and need. but not now. the world has never turned in just the right way to lead them to that moment; the longing he feels for her and that intimacy has only begun to build again. he has only begun to let himself want and reach carefully for that joy and the exhilaration of loving; of being loved, of being with her for all she is and all she is to him, inextricably tied to each other and that moment.

she's right. it wasn't, but that doesn't mean it won't be, that he doesn't want it with every breath inside of him, including this one. she grins and his lips curl up, bashful and stirred both as he too glances down. there is a new sort of fear in his eyes: but it is passionate and eager. he's not about to comment on her sex life (or his own for that matter) but—
] Well, it'd hardly be a chore. [ gaze bright and sweet, he tucks hair behind her ear, smooths and feels it against his fingertips again and again in soothing caresses.

he wants her and he wishes there were words to tell her so, to reassure her. instead, he exhales a shallow breath, his eyes roaming down to her lips and then back up to her eyes.
]