synflux | [closed] we shape our buildings; thereafter, they shape us

Ah...

[ah]

[uh]

[not trying to go there, tripping there instead, getting his bEARINGS hold ON PRIVATE SESSION?????]

[clearing his throat]

That's....bold of you, Malkuth.

I've been called a forward girl.

[ by... a couple people...

...

for friendship reasons... ]

But I don't see what's so bold about it, since you're a professional at whatever job you're put to. Aren't you?

[ nevermind that the thought of his hands anywhere more on her bare skin gives her goosebumps in a good way. she knows why it's bold... at least with that word choice. ]

[See, this is where those predator comparisons come back into play. She's so nice and sweet and now he feels like he's walking on the edge to an antlion's pit.]

[She really couldn't mean that, this is playful, but he's thinking about his hand on her leg from earlier, the way he squeezed it and the way he said her other name and the way she turned red.]

[He swallows.]

[And of course, he'll be professional.]

[(Wings, he needs to be actually drunk for this.)]

If you...need me to be. Yes.

[A safe answer. A nice answer. He's looking down at the antlion's pincers. This is not going to go anywhere, really. That's all.]

[ he doesn't feel far enough away for her to reply the way it jumps to mind, eyes darting to his hands and then to his eyes again. if she needs him to be, but only if she needs him to be, so if she didn't want him to be

what then? he'd been resistant to something softer and gentler, but there's a heat kindling in her that matches the longing she has to feel his hand against her pulse again. malkuth pulls her legs more towards herself, trying to will away the flush in her cheeks, the way it dips down her top.

she can't say it directly. she's a direct girl, but she's becoming too aware of herself now. they need more space between them than this bed.

wings, but even the room is too small. ]

You... don't need to be professional with me, Vergilius. Ever.

[ for any reason. ]

[Right.]

[The antlion yawns. He can see its pincers now. A small part of him he thought he buried a long time ago chases some fervent mental fantasy, scared hands on her body, mouth to whisper sweet nothings into her ear, to do...what? Not be professional. Whatever that meant, but with a context like this, who needs enemies?]

[His body feels too strange, like he's had to be made aware of it in the first time in years. Don't be professional. He's not stupid. He can see that hidden meaning. It sets something under his skin and he needs to tamp it down ]

[He finally turns to stare at her, with glittering eyes like gems. His hand twitches. It felt like its missing the placd on her legsm]

Those are dangerous words.

[Not even for that, but...]

[Isn't this too much trust afforded to him?]

What makes you say so?

[ they're not dangerous to her. not when she's still hiding enough from him. there's trust, and then there's trust; there's a difference, even if it doesn't feel so, but malkuth's heart still feels like a bird desperate for escape.

vergilius can't hurt her. he doesn't want to cause pain, or sorrow, or anything of the sort. he's gentle, cautious, and keeps a distance that she keeps pressing against.

there's every right to lash. he doesn't in a way that's meant to scar. ]

...I might hurt you.

[She might argue he's done nothing to do so. It's true. And it doesn't change anything. He can't trust himself completely.]

I have...a reputation for a reason, Malkuth.

[He was never made for softer things. He tried to be with the children, and punished for it. The world will always ask him to be cruel, no matter how much he keeps it at bay.]

[ that train of thought, again. she remains where she is this time, afraid (in a way) of what might happen should they be too close, and shakes her head. even if malkuth would like to put herself under his hands again, prove a point. ]

I'll take my chances. You weren't born with that reputation, and you don't need to be defined by it.

[ simple as that.

besides, more quietly, she doesn't think the Abnormalities that share her book will let him so easily. they're more untamed than in the library. as long as she a strong enough response, they'll come to her aid. even if they can't rend a Color Fixer unconscious... they can protect her.

malkuth doesn't mention so though, the theory only just that. ]

I won't define you by it, anyway.

...

[If it were only so easy. He thought he achieved that. Even as a Color, he had people who treated him as a person, children who held his scarred hands and gave him drawings and cried in his arms.]

[But the City still had its dues. He can't run away from who he is.]

I...appreciate that. [A long pause, his chest filling with air, expelling with a sigh.] I do.

I thought you might.

[ anyone from their city would, she thinks. malkuth knows she would. her gaze dips to her hands, blood unseen, and remains there. ]

I won't ask the same if you can't give it though. Even if I'd like it if you could just see... me.

[ not the role she's played, or the reputation the library gained. they're still things that make up her, that shaped her since the day she joined a research group so long ago, and she won't ever deny that. she'll speak as plainly as he does his color business if asked.

... but it'd be nice to be seen as herself, too. for whatever that's worth. ]

...I've already cast my gaze on you, Miss Duck.

[An altogether ridiculous phrase, but he means it, in the sincerity of it. Whatever this is...it's already decided.]

[He almost sounds a little bittersweet - there's the weight of tragedy, beating its wings in its eternal cage.]

We're already intertwined, whether you like it or not.

Ooh, how scary.

[ but it swells in her chest anyway despite the teasing tone, yearning to close their distance, and she looks at him for a long moment before throwing a circular frog plush at his head. ]

Get out before I do something you'll regret. I haven't kissed anyone yet and you're asking for it.

[ even if she'd just kiss his cheek, the threat is there. but she does appreciate it, more than words could ever say, twisting the blanket idly and relishing quietly in the way his eyes have always followed her. ]

Ow.

[(didn't actually hurt)]

[The plushie bounces off uselessly. He barely blinks. He could've caught it, but, well, where's the fun in that.]

[The so-called threat, though...now that's the thing that threatens to skewer him here, a little pleasant needle to the heart. He said before that she didn't make him feel young, but with everything here, the flirting (fuck, that's absolutely been flirting), there's some heated rush that feels like itching below his sallow skin.]

[Fuck.]

[This is the kind of stuff that shouldn't be a thing when sober. This is very, very dangerous. He opens his mouth, closes it, and feels like his lips are too dry when he hoarsely says, in reply:]

Don't....make threats you won't act on, Miss Malkuth. That won't look good on you.

[But he's already standing, almost a little too quickly, because if he stays here, even just for a second longer, he's going to do something he hates. He already hates this, in a sense. Does he hate it?]

[He's moving to the door, glancing behind him for a moment.]

Get some rest, okay...?

[ how many people can make a color turn tail?

it's almost funny to see him move so fast, but it also... kindles something in her again, the way the hand in her hair, against her neck, squeezing her calf so purposefully had done.

he'd kiss her, wouldn't he.

would he? his hand gentle on her cheek, thumb under her jaw, or maybe gripping ever so slightly her chin, drawing her up while he leaned down...

malkuth sinks where she lays ever so slightly, swallowing hard. ]

I will. Take care, Mr. Gaze. Don't work yourself too hard.

[There's something in the air that's changed. He came here to return a pin.]

[He just came here to return a pin, simply, effortlessly, without any expectation for anything more.]

[But she held his hands, she embraced him, she buried her head sweetly into his chest, she draped her arms around his shoulders, he touched the nape of her neck, he touched her ankle, he touched her calf, and-]

[He needs to stop this before he finds himself in the pit, so to speak. (Well, he's already been there from the beginning, perhaps. The pincers of an antlion can look like mountains, from here.)]

[The pin she placed on him feels so heavy as to drag him down further.]

[A noticeable swallow.]

I won't.

[And, just like that, he's gone, like a ghost.]

[closed] we shape our buildings; thereafter, they shape us

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