Euphemia li Britannia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
unfearing) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
savetheearth2013-04-30 09:23 pm
unfearing) wrote in savetheearth2013-04-30 09:23 pm
some like it hot
WHO: Elizabeth and Casval
WHAT: She's about to make yet another patented Euphemia-style Good Life Choice.
WHEN: idek anymore tbh. some time while Jack is still staying with Elizabeth, a few days after the werewolf log?
WHERE: The park!!!!
[ Since Casval never got around to telling here how he takes his coffee, she's just got the two cups and a little plastic bag of creamers and sugars looped around her wrist. She makes it to the park in fairly short order, figuring there's no harm in being a little early and enjoy the scenery. Get her nerves under control and all that.
She's normally not one to be easily rattled, but somehow...
Taking a seat at the park, she produces the little winged badge she's been holding onto since that day, feeling a surge of emotion just at the sight of it. She can't quite place her finger on what those feelings mean, or why this item is so important to her but--
Somehow, she feels like it's a token to be given away. And she'd been speaking to Casval in that moment when it first appeared to her.
I will protect that faith of yours, madam. On the name of my honor, I swear it.
Her heart flutters at the memory alone, and she clutches that badge to her chest. She can still hear his words in her mind verbatim, and it's--
It's inspiration. He's the very face of inspiration.
When she speaks to him, she feels as though she could do anything, be anyone, accomplish anything. She has always wanted to be better for herself, and by extension for the beautiful world she was born into, but this is the first time she has truly been inspired to be something more than she is for someone outside of herself.
...
And really, when she thinks about it, Casval isn't a man so much as a force of nature.
He's the one.
He's the one who should have this token. She hopes it will mean something to him, but even if the gesture is lost on him, she still wants to do this.
She can't really say why, but this is important to her. It'll mean something in the end, she just knows it. ]
WHAT: She's about to make yet another patented Euphemia-style Good Life Choice.
WHEN: idek anymore tbh. some time while Jack is still staying with Elizabeth, a few days after the werewolf log?
WHERE: The park!!!!
[ Since Casval never got around to telling here how he takes his coffee, she's just got the two cups and a little plastic bag of creamers and sugars looped around her wrist. She makes it to the park in fairly short order, figuring there's no harm in being a little early and enjoy the scenery. Get her nerves under control and all that.
She's normally not one to be easily rattled, but somehow...
Taking a seat at the park, she produces the little winged badge she's been holding onto since that day, feeling a surge of emotion just at the sight of it. She can't quite place her finger on what those feelings mean, or why this item is so important to her but--
Somehow, she feels like it's a token to be given away. And she'd been speaking to Casval in that moment when it first appeared to her.
I will protect that faith of yours, madam. On the name of my honor, I swear it.
Her heart flutters at the memory alone, and she clutches that badge to her chest. She can still hear his words in her mind verbatim, and it's--
It's inspiration. He's the very face of inspiration.
When she speaks to him, she feels as though she could do anything, be anyone, accomplish anything. She has always wanted to be better for herself, and by extension for the beautiful world she was born into, but this is the first time she has truly been inspired to be something more than she is for someone outside of herself.
...
And really, when she thinks about it, Casval isn't a man so much as a force of nature.
He's the one.
He's the one who should have this token. She hopes it will mean something to him, but even if the gesture is lost on him, she still wants to do this.
She can't really say why, but this is important to her. It'll mean something in the end, she just knows it. ]
no subject
It's hardly an hour before he gets there. Hardly half an hour, really. He'd supplied it only for politeness' sake; he'd pretty much rushed straight over, partially because he needed a distraction, and partially because...
Well, he preferred not to think of the other part, the part where she rattled him and in ways he hadn't known in so long. Casval is not a man to savor smiles but hers is one to be treasured, her presence one to be protected, hence why he'd extended the offer, had no regrets doing so. Only regretted that perhaps she was putting too much faith in someone who didn't deserve it, but maybe that was just the paranoia talking.
Shit, it was always the paranoia talking, who was he kidding?
Elizabeth's easy enough to pick out in a crowd—Une made that particular point difficult to forget—so once he spots her musing beside the fountain, he steels his nerves, throws on his smooth mask, his ever reliable companion at the bargaining table, and gestures his greeting with a saccharine smile. ]
Miss Elizabeth?
[ One could never tell Casval was the slightest bit nervous, strides still structured, posture firmly upright, voice confident. More so than current events lent him to feel, if he was being honest with himself (never), but never mind that. He's focused on her now upon approach, as he should be and intends to remain. ]
Good day. [ He dips his head, hoping she won't notice the touched up trails of red on his cheek. Courtesy of Mrs. Wolf. ] I hope you weren't kept waiting long for me. Shall I join you?
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[ Elizabeth positively lights up at the sound of Casval's voice, making quickly to stand so that she might greet him properly. Once standing, however, she doesn't know quite how to greet him. A handshake seems so... inadequate, somehow, to express her joy at seeing him. Besides, it's a bit formal for them at this point, at least in Elizabeth's eyes. She hasn't found a good reason to curtsey since she was a little girl, and doing nothing is out of the question--
Finally she simply settles on a small wave, hopelessly inadequate in of itself but the best she can think of in this moment at time. She holds the badge at her side for now, not putting it away but not exactly drawing attention to it just yet. There's no reason to rush this, after all. Casval doesn't seem so busy that he needs to go running off this instant, so surely there's no harm in just... keeping him a while to enjoy the simple pleasure of his presence. ]
I barely just arrived myself. Please do have a seat-- I brought coffee anyway, and you can fix it up however you like it...
[ Unlike Casval, Elizabeth is visibly flustered both by her thoughts and her reasons for being here, but that doesn't stop her from smiling from the very bottom of her heart as she settles back down on the bench again. She really doesn't know what this feeling is, but she hopes it never stops. ]
no subject
Inadequate though she felt it may have been, even the slight wave sends his heart aflutter. He takes no notice of the badge; all eyes and attention on this lovely young lady, all smiles and warmth, or as much as he could manage at present. ]
Of course. [ Down he goes, next to her. Even sitting, he towers over Elizabeth by a good head or so. A powerful presence, indeed, no matter his posture. ] I wouldn't mind some, truthfully. Work's been... rather slow, lately. Staying awake is sometimes a struggle, in face of that.
[ Nonexistent, really, since his shenanigans involving Jack on base. Some international deals have picked, but his primary concern, increasingly, has been the conspiracy surrounding them—and the innocents like Elizabeth caught up within it. ]
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[ Elizabeth laughs quietly at that, turning slightly in her seat so that Casval commands her full attention, her eyes following his every facial expression and every gesture. ]
You know, I don't believe I actually know what you do, Captain. You mentioned it briefly before, but only in passing...
[ As she speaks, Elizabeth taps a finger against her lips in curiosity as she ponders all the great and varied professions she could see a man like Casval having. He'd mentioned it being something to do with business. ]
If you don't mind my asking, of course.
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Well, dear, [ it slips out before he can help it, so he just coasts along with ease ] I'm afraid I'm one of those nasty politicians. Of British stock, though I did serve in the armed forces for a time. I wear this uniform in remembrance of that, and the lessons I learned there.
[ In remembrance of everything I wished to forget. ]
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I don't think politicians necessarily have to be nasty. I hope to be one someday myself! Oh, but for now I'm studying for law school, and you know how society regards lawyers. Why, if you listen to enough jokes you'd come away thinking none of us had souls!
[ She laughs again at that, giving a shake of her head. ]
I'm sure you're a fine politician. At least, regardless of your policies or your methods, you seem to me a fine man and it's impossible not to bring at least some of you to your work, isn't it?
[ Her faith in Casval is absolute. She doesn't simply believe that he is a good man. She knows it. Not perfect by any means, of course. He seems to question himself and the world around him a great deal, and he's reckless about his safety and at times even the safety of others. So he's as flawed at the rest of them, but he--
She looks into his eyes, and she can see a better world. ]
no subject
Yet even if those pieces can't be recovered, and those broken down parts can't be rebuilt, his spirit is lifted, hearing her, seeing her. Hearing her speak of dreams and ambitions, seeing her cheeks light up oh so rosy. Pink is her color, he is convinced, will never be convinced otherwise, and he wants to drown in it. In the color that is passionate and kind and all the things that Casval has been denied in his life. ]
I thank you for saying so, madam, though it's probably best not to gloss over certain inevitable realities. [ Speaking of which... ] By the way, what had you wanted to talk to me about? Or was it just an excuse to get me alone, and mull over society's distaste of us?
[ Oh, my. Ordinarily he's not so bold, either, but Elizabeth is different. Special. Unique. Perhaps the awkwardness of it all will hit him later; for now, he's hit full stride himself, encouraged by Elizabeth's attitude and soaring right along with her. ]
no subject
[ There's a slightly mischievous glint to Elizabeth's eyes as she meets his teasing with a coy jab of her own, holding her best poker face for a good few seconds while she lifts up an eyebrow in challenge. Then she just winks at him before giving a quick shake of her head. ]
But if you insist... [ She pauses trying to figure out where to even begin to explain. Her grip on that little badge tightens. ]
You do know how everyone involved in our... situation have been getting back various memories or possessions and the like as of late, don't you?
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And yet Casval barrels down that path all the same, recklessly, dangerously, loses himself in those bright eyes and that bright suggestion to the lift of her lips and rolls along with the casual flirtation like he has any business doing it at all when he knows full well he does not. ]
I suppose you're right.
[ The faint glint of metal in sun catches his eye, and he tilts his head, attention drawn to her clasped hand where the little badge hides. ]
Yes, of course. [ A pause. ] Had you acquired something of particular note? Perhaps... something you wished to show me?
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You... swore to protect my faith. And I don't pretend to understand exactly what happened, but I just had this... this knowing--
[ Finally, she opens her folded hands and holds the badge out for Casval to see. ]
This fell into my lap, and-- I just know that it should go to you.
You don't have to make me any promises, Captain. I don't need you to swear any oaths, or feel that I'm asking anything of you in return.
I just... want you to have this. No, I-- I need you to have this. Please.
no subject
You swore to protect my faith.
...he makes the mistake of looking down, and almost everything falls apart then and there.
It is such a small token. Such an insignificant little symbol, and yet it calls to him, of times long since past. Wings, extended, atop a crowned spear of blue and gold, and just like that, he's soaring again, back into the sky that he used to love, once adored, until that day, that terrible day where everything crashed and burned and no more wings, after that.
The twitching in his fingers turns to outright shaking and the words barely register. To him? But why? He'd made a promise, true, a vow, even, but the faith she's instilling in this gesture, the trust she is extending to him, and more than anything else, the raw emotion flowing outward—he still can't control it, this blossoming power gained ever since his encounter in the Dead District, and what Elizabeth is broadcasting in that space between minds and reality is so strong and so earnest that he nearly shudders as a result.
He doesn't deserve this. He doesn't want this. She's gotten too close already, he's gotten too involved, he should just cut his losses, cut his losses and run and... ]
It wasn't your faith, I wanted to protect.
[ His mouth is moving before he can even think, automatically, and his hands do the same, closing around the smaller pair held out in offering. Delicate and soft, as he imagined them to be. ]
In that moment, when your heart called out to mine, what I wanted to protect [ his eyes narrow, almost sad, in a sense, somber ] was you.
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[ Eyes going wide, Elizabeth feels herself tense beneath Casval's touch, the warmth of his skin soaking into hers as his hands envelop her own. And, by her own accounting and no one else's, Elizabeth realizes that she has never been so truly alive as she is in this moment. She can feel Casval, truly feel Casval, and she can feel the warm midday breeze against her skin. She can hear gentle rustling of the wind in the trees, and she can hear the birds and the insects and the running water of the fountain.
She can feel the time spanning all around them, spiraling outwards into infinity. Their lives are so brief and so inconsequential in the context of all the history of this world alone. They're even smaller still when placed against the countless planets and countless stars in all of the innumerable galaxies that exist in what little of the known universe there is. This is something Elizabeth has known and faced with wonder since she was a girl, at the smallness of her and the greatness of all that is around her. But what she is learning now, here in this moment, is something completely different.
There is such impact in Casval's words, in his searing, aching touch, in the sunlight captured in his eyes--
This is one of those moments that changes everything, that has reached out to the core of her, after which, however inscrutably, her world will never be quite the same.
All her life, she has found truth in her humility and in her understanding of just how vast the scope of time and space really is. But here, now, Casval has shown her in the span of seconds of just how true the opposite can be. That she is irrevocably woven into the fabric of this world, and that even after all is said and done, years and decades and centuries from now after the both of them are long dead and gone, when this park they're standing has become a mall or an apartment complex or a space station or an uninhabitable desert or dust floating in the vacuum of space--
None of that will change the fact that they stood here today, and that he reached out and found her.
That in the life of Elizabeth Victoria Bishop, daughter of Victoria and Reginald Bishop, there came to be a man named Casval Mass who looked at her and saw someone he wanted to defend.
It's a little bit too much. It's just a little bit overwhelming for a girl of her age, especially after all that's happened in just the past few weeks. It's been nothing but a flurry of danger and confusion and finding out that all the things she thought she knew about life are nothing like what she believed.
Now she has someone she's come to admire and care for, who has been nothing but dauntless, kind, and inspiring in her eyes, telling her that she is someone he wants to protect.
It's not as though she doesn't understand that feeling. She ventured into the Dead District that night only out the fear that he would let something terrible happen to himself, but she--
She doesn't know.
She can feel the edges of the badge clutched between their joined hands digging into her skin. She can feel that sense of wanting to place her faith, all of it, in Casval and the good she knows he can do for the world.
She's what he wants to protect.
He would swear that to her.
Her breath catches as she tries to release it, and before she fully realizes it, there are tears spilling down her cheeks. Her shoulders tremble, and once she's started she just can't seem to stop. To look at him alone feels like too much, but she is so overcome and confused that she, too, moves without thinking. Pressing the badge into his closed hands, she then withdraws her own only to throw her arms around him, burying her face against his chest.
Everything is so right and everything is so wrong that she doesn't know what to want or wish for anymore.
All she knows is that everything is different now, and she can never go back to the way she was before. ]
no subject
Gravity is a fickle thing. You never know when it will release its hold on you, send you into a tailspin, floating off towards the stars and gasping for air. Free of its embrace, left to fly on your own wings you never knew you had until now.
And Casval is flying, free of the wreck below and open to the heavens above. It's startling and breathtaking all at once, this sort of view; he knows it well but had nearly forgotten, buried it beneath the scourge of politics and a reality destroyed by the world ruled by adults and the corrupt matters of adults who, truly, were little better than children themselves. Monsters in sheep's clothing.
He remembers his conversation with Banagher, him swearing to take on the burden of despair, but Elizabeth cuts through it so surely, so swiftly in a single embrace, he wondered if he'd ever felt it at all. Of course, the vice remains, deep down, will rear its ugly head again later, but in this moment, in this instant, it has vanished into nothingness, crushed into stardust forever forgotten (just absent of forever, unfortunately). Lives are inconsequential but Elizabeth is very much not, will never be, the comet of his universe flickering past brilliant and beautiful. Never submitting to his gravity, never tamed by the darkness that threatened to consume it, yet infinitely admirable all the same.
He is caught in a similar whirlwind. Tunnel vision, an echo chamber, where he can see only Elizabeth and hear only Elizabeth. And he's quite convinced, he could do with never seeing or hearing anything or anyone else. He's quite positive, he could do with that much and nothing and no one else. When someone cries, it's supposed to be sad, but when Elizabeth cries like this he thinks it is the prettiest sight and he feels awful for it because he is the cause. He is the reason she has misplaced this faith in him, granted him the highest of honors and shoved her heart into his palm, almost literally, it seems, and she will regret it, someday, he knows.
But he found her, and she found him, and right now, in this moment, in this instant, in this space shared only between the two of them, that is all that matters. ]
Casval.
[ He corrects her, gently, finally calmed enough to return the embrace, support her by the upper back. A few locks of golden hair brushing her cheek, voice soft in the breeze that ruffles the nearby branches, beside the rush of water and the hum and animals and plants and all that is alive in their world. ]
My name is Casval, Elizabeth. Don't forget.
[ I'll always play piano for you.
I'll always protect you.
Even if the rest of me is drenched in nothing but blood and despair, ]
Stay with me, just as you are.
[ I'll never forget those feelings you showed to me, on that day. ]
no subject
Perhaps he will be everything to her, the sun and the moon and all the stars. Perhaps he will move heaven and earth for her, and perhaps she will be able to return that devotion. Perhaps he will be everything she will ever know, and her eyes will close their last upon his face. Perhaps as soon as tomorrow they'll find reason to part ways and never meet again.
Elizabeth has no way to account for all of the possibilities of the future, or for how this moment has changed them. She is acutely, intensely aware of how she cannot say whether this meeting has been for better or for worse in the grand scheme of things.
But she doesn't care. That kind of uncertainty is in many ways the whole of life, of being human.
She doesn't know and she doesn't care. Because what she does know is that no matter where this road takes them, for this moment between them alone, she will regret nothing.
There's another hitch in her breathing, in her quiet, hiccuping sobs that are muffled against his chest, as she hears him correcting her, telling her to call him by his name.
And then she hears him call her by hers, and she is lost. She never knew what difference there could be in something as simple as a name.
Casval.
She nods, a choked, watery laugh escaping her as she tries to wipe away her stubborn tears. ]
Casval...
[ Her utterance is quiet, whispered, just testing out the syllables of the word. It feels right and good somehow, if such feelings can be assigned to words. ]
Casval.
[ Again, this time louder. More confident. She smiles, and it aches. She didn't know that such aching could feel so sweet. Then she just nods, her weight settled comfortably against him as she grasps him by the shoulders to stay upright. This doesn't begin to resemble proper, but... Casval doesn't seem to mind, and she can't quite bring herself to move just yet, all the strength fled from her muscles and her bones. ]
I will. Whatever we face in this world, Casval, you won't face it alone.
I--
[ Whatever she meant to say vanishes as she notices something on Casval's face now that she's so close and has had a moment to catch her breath. There are these... These marks, and they--
She reaches out with her hand, gingerly touching the unbroken skin just next to the marks. ]
My goodness-- What happened...?
no subject
For someone who had everything and nothing, all at once, it is a promising start, if only he could fumble his way through the bitter end first.
But it is a start, and that is something, and hope blossoms within his heart, broken though it may be.
His name, as to be expected, sounds perfect falling from her lips. He smiles, a real, true smile. Casval. Yes, that is who I am. More than a Captain, more than a politician, more than a celebrity.
Casval.
Yes, that is who I am.
The brilliant illusion shatters once she touches his cheek, like a castle of glass falling to a million pieces, and he jerks back, eyes wide. ]
I...
[ What had happened? It's still mostly a blur, to him, the slash of unforgiving claws, jaws clamped tight around his arm, he can scarcely recall it himself. But eventually, he swallows the lump in his throat, sputters out an answer, even as his gaze darts off and away. ]
It was from the wolves. [ His voices is quiet. Uncertain. Much unlike before. ] It's fine. It will heal, soon enough.
[ Except for the fact that it won't. ]
no subject
Her thoughts echo his own. The marks in her own side will scar. Stitches always do. And though that scar tissue will fade away with time, the marks these past few days and weeks have left on them will never fade away. She has never particularly thought about fearing for the future. She supposes that, too, has been a luxury that her father has so generously given her. Whatever her concerns for the world she lives in, she has always met head on. Laws can be changed. Social issues can be mended. Perhaps she can never truly save everyone, but that doesn't mean she isn't able to make a difference.
But here and now, she finds herself sitting at the edge of the unknowable, at the precipice of something so much bigger and so utterly different from anything she's ever known. This network, these changes, these strange and supernatural things nipping at their heels--
The game itself has changed, and they don't even know the rules.
The game has changed, and Elizabeth is at all times aware of the true limit of her ability to help the people around her. And then here is Casval.
Whenever she thinks of him, she remembers his form on that video feed to the network. Alone, with an entire arsenal of weapons at his disposal. Unflinching, unapologetic, undaunted. Willing to face the world alone and head on if that was what it took to get things done. She remembers the feeling of her handgun heavy in her hands, listening to the snarls of those strange beasts, hearing people shouting and crying out and--
She didn't know where Casval was. She didn't know what he was doing or how he fared.
And here, now, she's starting to have some idea of just what happened to him that night. This is only beginning. What will happen to Casval if this should get worse? Elizabeth squeezes her eyes shut, forcing herself just to breathe. ]
No, it's not fine. It's not.
Please, Casval-- Know that I admire everything you've done, all of your leadership and your determination, but--
You must be more careful with yourself. I beg of you.
no subject
He wants to run. He wants to hide, toss aside the vow he's just made, mask his face and his heart and everything else. She's so earnest it hurts and he's so not it hurts all the harder, digs all the deeper into what little conscience he has left. His torn cheeks darken from the shame and he must avert his gaze for fear of being drawn permanently into Elizabeth's, drowning not in joy but in the despair that has such a chokehold over his heart. ]
It's customary for men like me to throw caution to the wind. [ Gently, he clasps his hand around hers, pulls it away from the wounds on his face. ] I would gladly do so, in perseverance of your life.
[ ...yes. He supposed there was no hiding that, at least, that upsurge of emotion, that affection he reserved for a choice few. Fingers encircling pale, slender ones, he guides them back, close to where they were before, but not quite.
He guides them to his mouth, pressed against his lips like something precious. And they are, of this he has no doubt. ]
I beg you not to waste yourself on me. Let me admire you, from afar. Shield you in this way instead. [ Even if I want nothing more than to hold you. ] It would be better for both our sakes.
no subject
Her breath is caught somewhere in her throat, heart far too heavy to even remember to beat.
Then he takes her hand, kissing the backs of her fingers, and she feels such a surge of emotion welling in her that has tears pricking in her eyes. She shivers, turning her hand over in his to grasp his hand tight.
Whatever objections or protests she might have had for his previous words are little more than a mild discontent in her heart compared to what he has to say next.
That he would consider her affection and boundless admiration for him a waste. That he would prefer to watch from afar, as though they are two people on the opposite of some great divide. As though she is the patron and he the lion, or she the dove and he the observer.
Why can they not simply be? As two people, joined and intertwined and ensnared in this moment. People who are each flawed, who look into the mirror and see less than all they wish they could be. People who hope for something better, who wish to reach out to their fellow man and be loved. Be wanted.
To matter.
However different someone may be from her walk of life, Elizabeth has always believed in the idea of the human condition. That at the core of each of them, they suffer the same and yearn for the same and hope for the same. ]
No.
[ Elizabeth utters this quietly, voice choked as she squeezes his hand as though through that small, limited, and utterly inadequate physical contact alone she can somehow convey the depth of her emotion or the sheer lengths at which she believes him to be wrong. ]
No. What is a life trapped in a glass cage...? I am not something to be sheltered, to be coveted or locked away. My father would do the same to me, and I refuse.
I will love what I choose to love. Protect that which I choose to protect. Stand by who I choose to stand beside. There is no part of you being careless with yourself or choosing to put distance between us which would benefit me.
And though I cannot say for certain, I believe with all my heart that I would not give you reason to regret staying with me.
So don't you dare tell me that distance is what is best for us!
[ And because there is nothing about holding his hand or simply staring into the sharply glittering depths of his eyes that could possibly begin to make Casval understand how she feels, and because for once all of Elizabeth's gift for speech falls so hopelessly short of the drive behind her words, she hesitates for only a moment before drawing in a deep, fortifying breath. She slips her hand out of his, cupping the side of his face.
Then she closes what little space lies between them with a chaste but unyielding kiss, her tears damp against his skin.
no subject
He must be. Out of control, this time, swerving. Impulsively, recklessly, carried on foreign wings, wings he doesn't know. Romantic wings, wings of affairs that dared not speak their names. Immutable destiny, destined to kill and destined to be loved by nothing and no one, but he can hear her heart crying, refusing him, no, it mustn't be, it can't be. Hers is a force to move mountains, to part seas, this will so iron-clad that even he, the stone-hearted soldier, must bow. Must surrender.
Her hands have turned from warm to hot and Casval isn't sure if he can stand it, frankly, this sudden rise in temperature, the heat of her temper flaring at him, stubbornness and tenacity the likes of which makes even him, the cold-blooded captain, shudder, cower from. What a woman, what a torrent of nature. What a creature loosed from its chains and set free. It is terrifying and captivating all at once to behold, this furious splendor, this impassioned plea turned upon him, begging his ear. Just listen.
And he does. He tries. Tries not to fall apart. Tries to bridge that divide instead of making it bigger, but it's all he knows, those bitter wings destined to break. Cracks in the mirror and shards of glass spilling onto the floor, flawed for all to see. And he is so very flawed, and so very weak, and so very weary, and so very troubled, too much, too fast, how can he manage? His hand is imprisoned in hers now and he doesn't have the nerve to escape, probably never did, because he's a damned coward through and through. Perhaps she was the knight, in the end, and him the one to be sheltered, in her arms, in her hold. Inescapable. Immutable.
Elizabeth refuses the only thing he can give, his life, and so he is left at a loss. He could give her devotion, true, but to what twisted end, some inevitably foul purpose led astray by his dwindling humanity, he can only guess, only contemplate and despair over. He's sure it's down the path where regrets lead, the same regrets she refutes, such dignity, such authority, and...
He's flying again. He must be.
Lips slide against his own and everything fades to white. Briefly, he wonders if he is dead, or maybe, this was what feeling alive was like to others; maybe he'd been dead all along, brought back to life with that single, selfless gesture.
His mind drifts to sunflowers, to an enchantress with blonde hair and blue eyes, and the loveliest smile in all creation. The sun shines upon his back and the young boy, the young Casval Mass, laughs, hiding beneath the swaying stalks. Rolling in the soil and prodding at worms inching along and simply living and being alive. This was what being alive felt like, Captain Mass thinks.
Eventually young Casval is caught, laughing and laughing and laughing in arms he never wished to leave but left him anyway, but not before they say to him,
”I love you.”
Everything is warm, like on that day. The memory ebbs and flows as quickly as it came and Casval is left cradling Elizabeth, pressed to his mouth and reluctant to dismiss it, apparently, and he lets her have it. He lets her have her kiss, and for what little he can reciprocate, he does. She deserves nothing less and everything more than he can offer, but at the very least he can try.
And when he can give nothing else, his weak, weary, troubled head sinks to her shoulder, buries itself there, long strands of hair cascading across her clothes. He has nothing to spare, but tears, and he cries soundlessly, because everything is broken and the unspoken
I'll fix it
I'll fix you
I'll remain
resting between them shatters what's left, he is so overwhelmed. ]
no subject
There is nothing but the beating of her heart and the steady thrum of Casval's own. There is nothing but his breath on her shoulder, his ragged, shuddering gasps. The world is pared down to sunlight and skin, both caressing her so impossibly warm.
It should seem so simple an act, little more than one press of someone's lips against another's. It's nothing that hasn't happened an immeasurable number of times since the beginning of human history. It's something that is there and over in but the span of seconds. And yet there is such transcendence in this lapse in time that through even that brief, fleeting, unassuming kiss, Elizabeth understands that she has gotten through to him, if only in some small way. That they have glimpsed a great and terrible void which would stand between them, and through faith alone have come together in spite of it.
Elizabeth's faith in Casval is unapologetic and unflinching. Not because she blindly believes that he is a good man, but because she refuses to let anyone or anything tell her that there is not a great man within him who could become something truly miraculous if only given the chance.
Greatness and ruin often walk so closely hand in hand, that much Elizabeth knows. And she intends to be here with him to keep him from falling, however she is able. There is too much potential in him to let go to waste. It is a terrible shame to watch life drive any one person to their knees, and Elizabeth's heart has always cried out for every injustice, for every needless waste of someone's future.
However, as terrible of a shame as that might be in anyone else, for that to happen to Casval would be nothing short for tragedy. At least from where Elizabeth is standing.
His tears strike such resonance in her that she aches for him, arms wrapping tightly around him as she rests her cheek against the top of his head. She strokes his hair slowly, smoothing her hand over the soft curls. And she smiles, bright and loving and aching. She doesn't want to interrupt this moment with anything so intrusive as words, and so she merely cradles him close against her chest, rocking gently.
She'll sit here as long as it takes. Forever, if she must.
It's her oath to him in return.
That no matter what is yet to come, she will always be here when he needs her. Even if he doesn't necessarily want her. Even should he try to push her away.
That no matter how dark or foreboding the future may seem, there is nothing to fear.
There is never anything to fear. ]