shelley_winters | (no subject)

It was hard to smile to that, but Elan did--nodding calmly, he whispered in reply.

"You are quite welcome."

He could see how relieved she was--and he was seeing how to use it as well. This could be interesting indeed.

Oh dear. No, talking. The more she can get out of the way all at once, the better.

She swallows. "Um. I told them you lost all your papers except that," she indicates the certificate, "And your house exploded. And your bank went bankrupt and left you penniless. I think you should just look sad and say you don't want to talk about it."

Elan chuckled slightly. Sadly, that was not exactly too far from what happened--sans conflagrations. Pushing the thought away, he nodded and replied.

"I shall make sure to be appropriately pitiful."

"I'm sure you will."

If he really wants to. Does he? she wonders silently, before shaking her head slightly to try and think logically, of something other than, he's leaving, he's going, freedom!

"Um. I'll let you know tomorrow when to come in, and where to go. Do you need to know anything, do you think?"

Elan shook his head. He was an incredibly skilled actor so there was no need, really, now that he had the basic facts.

"No, I should think that would suffice."

Pausing for a moment, he thought about how to proceed. Keep her talking, keep her calm, and keep her comfortable. His voice was slightly curious and mellifluous as he asked--only slightly different than he often did.

"So, anything else interesting happen today?"

Shelley shakes her head.

"No. Nothing. Just as usual."

Really, everything else had paled in comparison once she recieved the note. She's not entirely sure how she'd managed to keep working normally, caught between hope and fear.

Pausing for a moment, Elan furrowed his brow. A slight tone of excitement--restrained--burned in his voice. There was a touch of delight in his bright blue eyes.

"You said that I could apply to attend a University? I could join the academic community here?"

Shelley blinks briefly, then nods.

"Well-- yes. The government have grants for if you can't afford it, and loans for living, too, so you don't have to work all the time when you're trying to learn. There's a university just outside of Tackleford."

Although maybe she should urge him to go somewhere else in the country. Somehow she doesn't think entrance exams anywhere will present him with a problem, so...

Elan smiled and nodded. A genuine joy reflected in his face as he thought of the papers he would write. This was not a difficult matter to impersonate--it was hardly impersonation at all.

"...It will be wonderful to be apart of an academic community again. There are so many papers that I have been meaning to write."

"Just make sure what you're talking about exists on this world," Shelley says, raising an eyebrow in a vaguely admonishing way. "Start talking about something that we don't even have, they'll think you are crazy."

Not that he isn't, she thinks silently. Just not all the time, and in a different kind of way.

She watches the look in his eyes with puzzlement, but also a growing sense of reality. He wants to. It's really working!

Laughing faintly, he smiled and replied with an almost child-like delight in his voice.

"Oh, I shall be careful. Worry yourself not about that matter. Oh, I have much to consider--There are many exciting possibilities."

He really did not think Shelley was in a place to be warning others about being considered insane as several entire worlds considered her mad, though each for different but completely correct reasons.

"Good," she says, voice quieter.

Yes, it really could work. Had worked - had it? He won't die, with something to concentrate on... something that is not making her life unbearable with his constant unnerving presence. She sits back again, leaning against the back of the sofa and focusing her eyes on the wall while she wrestles to keep calm. He's not gone yet, but it's hard to fight the emotion, even still mixed with apprehension. She should think of the technical side. Right.

Turning to face her, Elan smiled--the joy of his future brimming on his face. His hand snaked out to take hers--loosely, gently, but not without the hint of insistence--two of his fingers interwoven with hers.

(The time was now propitious)

Still smiling joyously, Elan leaned over and kissed her affectionately three times--the first right under the edge of her jaw. The second at the edge of her mouth--the third firmly on her lips.

The first mistake Shelley makes is to look at him when he takes her hand. The second, obviously, is not to snatch it back and glare. The third is not shoving him away immediately.

The hand he isn't holding onto goes up in vague protest, but by that time her skin is prickling where his lips had touched her throat, he's kissing her, and her breathing catches in a way that isn't quite panic; although she twists her hand to try and free it from his grasp.

What is he--?

He relinquished her hand, but let fall a soft flurry of kisses--most on her lips, some on her neck. The faint taste of her sent a chill down his spine--Beautiful.

Pulling back and pausing for a moment, the sheer joy of the moment portrayed undiminished on his face.

"W-wait, wait--"

Shelley shivers as his mouth moves downwards, onto her neck, but she perseveres because frankly she doesn't know what else to do, even when he smiles as if there's nothing wrong in the world...

"Don't-"

His hand traced up her stomach--the smile never fading from his face--as he delivered another sucking kiss to her neck. His other hand tucked his black hair behind his hair lest it tickle her neck. His lips brushed the underside of her jaw on their way to her lips--to drink her breath.

He could feel the blood pounding in his ears--red with the fire of life--He had forgotten how good the heat of body and mind could feel as if a dark miasma had lifted from his mind.

Shelley gasps a little, uneasy but feeling like she should be more so. And her heart is beating hard and somewhere along the way the hand that was going to the collar of his shirt to pull him off her got confused and also tangled in his hair which is quite obviously too long.

She should... stop, but it's still okay. Going to be fine, because he'll be gone soon, and she can stop- any time...

There was no time--no thought. The whole of creation contracted to a small blue sofa where two people were slowly intertwining--pressing against the couch cushions. Her thin fingers tangled in his black hair--his hands traced and twirled and touched up and down her torso. His fingertips skated across her shirt and the bare skin where her blouse no longer met her skirt.

The only music was soft whispered breaths--

(a pæn)

--soft, sucking kisses kept time.

It is the strangest contradiction.

It's not comfortable, and frankly, Shelley is just a little frightened, still, because it's more than a little clear that she doesn't want to stop kissing him this time. But--

She'll be left alone. Finally, and if this is the last time, then keeping her distance seems so much less important than the tingling exhilaration of almost escape - and yes, if she's honest, less important than his hands and mouth not stopping-- not just yet...

A certain boldness possessed Elan's hands--it was their intrinsic nature.

When love beckons to you, follow him

Gentle, but insistent fingers trailed up and under her shirt on occasion--boldening--desirous to touch her bare skin.

Though his ways are hard and steep

He was no more in control of them than he was anything else of his actions--the kissing and the touching and the caressing of her soft flesh.

And when his wings enfold you,
yield to him

For once in so many years, Elan was at peace--oblivion--he was a mighty ocean--the only waves in his thoughts were the pulse of his blood in his ears and the pulse of her heart beating beneath his hands. The tide was the rising warmth and soft kisses the cries of birds.

Though the sword hidden among his pinions
may wound you

There were no schemes, no thoughts, nothing but purest instinct--fire, ash, and smoke. The sole thread in his mind was her, but that too was diminishing into singularity--union--the marriage of her delicacy with his fiery spirit.

And when he speaks to you,
believe in him

"You... are so beautiful."

Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden

Shelley swallows at the soft sound of his voice against her ear, fighting for a little control against the heat under her skin and the roaring in her ears.

"I--"

Oh, and that came out shaky. Probably not good. Definitely not, but...

Her hand curls tighter in his hair. But...

His face was flushed--the smile not quite there, though his joy was undiminished--as his breath hissed against her ear as he purred a soft reply. The thumb of his left hand pressed upward insistently on the bare skin of her stomach under blouse--starting below the hem of her skirt--rising to brush the cloth at the underside of her breast briefly.

"I love you."

Shelley catches a whimper before it escapes, instead closing her eyes at the heat of his hand on her skin and biting her lip before she shakes her head in reflexive denial.

(I don't love you.)

Perhaps wisely, perhaps not at all, she says nothing instead.

His right hand joined his left under her blouse--both tracing up her body, softly pressing--her blouse bunching at his wrists. Kissing her passionately, he did not wait for an answer. He had hardly expected one though a stab of pain in his chesthinted that he might have wished otherwise.