violinist • insomniac • paper aeroplane • dandelion seed • feather • she sings • a stolen ring • fairytale gone wrong • cliche • ribbon • cadence • 3:28am • icarus • hallucination • letters to the moon • silhouette • breathless • start running • astronomer • comet in a bottle • reincarnation • mirage • filigree • everyone was dancing but me • nameless • exhale • fortuna major • vices and virtues • gunpowder and gunshots • china teacups • pinkie promises • chrysalis • piercing • north star • kerosene • dark horse • vanilla • the cat meowed • blink • text message • smirking • firefly • daisy chain • doe eyes • "where are you?" • typo • no shoes in the rain • heterochromia • swallowing silver spoons • a spoonful of sugar • mistaken identity • twisted ankle • touching the clouds • i told you so • lump in the throat • shoulders • sunburn • ambulance • talking nonsense • perfect • bare branches • pale • everyone found out • not enough • i owe you • she won't say it • russian roulette • dried flowers • actress • tattered notebook • smell the roses • justice • all that glitters • the cat and the king • grudge • apathy • all dolled up • decadence • blush • too easy • healing • then, i changed • write to me • caffeine • rumpled sheets • close your eyes • message in a bottle • morphine • fahrenheit • fighter • i lit a candle for you • after all this time • newspaper • pendulum • soundproof • skeletons in the closet • nightingale • arms crossed • prologue • epilogue • bully • i dare you • arms outstretched • woken up early • we're all made of stardust • dancers • hero • blurry • aftermath • even you • whatever you want to believe • a dance with the devil • roses are red violets are blue • lantern • they kept their promises • live fast and die young • interlaced fingers • i wish i tried harder • don't blink • envelope • congratulations • just look down • wayward • when you say nothing • as you wish • runs in the family • fight like a girl • the bright side • skyscraper • sunshine • bye, beautiful • don't mess with me • fire at will • fire and water • peek-a-boo • don't die before i do • wanderlust
pick a character + prompt (or tell me what you want &or bring your own) and get words.
[ This actually goes a little more poorly than he thought it might. His constitution isn't a fair weather thing, like the rest of him, really — but with as cracked and broken as his body is, he doesn't have much choice but to yield. It's in the simple task of moving that he finds out how close he'd allowed his heels to come to the edge. What the Var did to him as it surged through his synapses was set fire to insides. It would've ruined him, if not for Kaname. Instead, everything accelerated. Now, there's only ash. Gravity, the feeling of everything dropping out from underneath him, and then...
And now, having someone who won't allow him to fall, even if he would have done it again. A thousand times. However many it'd take to keep her safe. ]
There is. [ Messer balances on his other arm, fist clutched into the sheets at his side. By sheer force of will, he suppresses the shake in his nerves. It's his fault the clues he left were too few, too late. His fault that he'd staked everything on a fight he didn't even win. It's not like him, but it seems so faraway in comparison to how she says his name. ] There is a reason.
[ His temple meets hers, cheek to cheek as he leans into her heavily. Steadied by the crook of her arm, her warmth and the scent of dust and ozone makes his head spin. His forehead drops to her shoulder. ]
Whatever it is can't be worth this, not when you're barely stabilized.
[Kaname's words are soft and quiet, barely spoken above a whisper due to the sudden proximity. He can feel her heartbeat quicken and her shaky breath against his neck, the sudden tension in her shoulders when his forehead makes contact. She stays there for a moment, closing her eyes tightly in an attempt to calm herself.
Then she straightens, just barely, but enough to clear her knees from the floor. A small grunt escapes her once she takes on his weight, her hand moving from his hair to the back of his head to cradle it. Messer is solidly built and has a good nine inches on her, so she has to be careful. For both of them. Slowly, very slowly, she guides his form back to his proper place in bed, cautious not to bump him or disturb the monitors. To get his shoulder there comfortably, Kaname places a knee on the side of the bed so she can lean over him for a better angle.
She withdraws her hand from his back, still mindful of the equipment and his injuries. Even when he's back in bed, she remains, her other hand still idly playing with his hair. Turning, her knee is moved so she's now sitting on the edge of the bed, watching over him.]
Please, just stay here. Try to relax. [She pauses, a soft smile playing on her lips. The hand withdraws from his hair to reach to the bedside table and grab a small remote control. It's gently placed in his hand.]
Here, this is the way we'd prefer you to sit up. It controls the bed, Messer-kun.
[The last statement is meant as a bit of a tease.]
...is the uninhibited thought barely formed before he can think twice. Messer's throat runs dry at the force of the feeling, but he doesn't get the chance to speak it through the haze before she's moving. Whether it's him or her, it's happened enough for him to be familiar. Except neither of them leaves this time. Her fingers slip through his hair, carving through his awareness with a clarity that makes his chest pang. Mustering up enough strength to move with her comes naturally after that, knowing how much more of a burden he's just made out of himself. Soon enough, he's flat on his back, the monitors soothing over to steady blips. He's irritated at them, at being confined, but he supposes he only has himself to blame.
Then the presence of the remote intrudes his peripherals, and he turns his face aside to stare at it. Probably for a little too long, really. Flatly at first, then with a sudden creased brow and set jaw. Messer's gaze flicks up Kaname's arm, settling on her face with some of his usual intensity. He knows that tone. ]
I don't need it.
[ Though that won't be his only dumb stunt of the day. (Clearly, given his track record lately.) Despite his insistence, he reaches up. He slips the remote from her grasp, discarding it. Instead, he returns to trail his fingertips along her palm. His movement is still slow, somewhat stilted. Pain is a factor, but so is wonder. An awe that she's actually still here with him. And him wondering — is this okay?
Messer's fingers lace with Kaname's, skin callused from years of piloting still soft against the grooves of her knuckles. ]
[Contact like that, from him, startles her enough to make her withdraw her hand before she realizes what she's doing. Uncertainty in her eyes betrays her. She reaches over for the remote, careful not to brush his hand in the process, and she straightens up to scoot back from him. Without meeting his gaze, she clears her throat in an almost awkward manner.]
Um, I'm going to sit you up a bit, so don't be surprised. [Another brief pause occurs before she presses a button, and the bed beneath his shoulders and torso begins to rise, stopping once it's at a forty-five degree angle. Moments pass again, then she slowly retreats from the bed entirely, still not looking directly at him. She takes a step back, setting the remote back on the night stand.]
I'm sorry. [Kaname crouches to pick up the green blanket and pink rabbit pillow from the floor, gripping them tightly in her hands.] Messer-kun, I'm not sure what to say now.
[Her voice trails off, though she stands, grasping the items like a lifeline, until she finally looks at him. The uncertainty--maybe even doubt-- from before is still there, but more obvious. She swallows, lump in her throat not seeming to move.
Seconds seem like hours until she finally takes a step forward, shoving her previously shed boots aside. Softly, she reclaims her spot on the edge of the bed, hands, as well as blanket and pillow, retreating to her lap. Kaname averts her gaze, growing more and more unsure with each passing second. It's almost a miracle she manages to speak what words she does.]
I... Can I-- [She looks back up at the bed, him there, eyes moving over the entire thing in question. Unformed words swirl in her head, fighting to come out, order not important. However, the ones that make it, are the safer of the options.]
Sorry, forget it. I'm being silly.
[A weak smile is what she can manage as she pulls into herself, almost ashamed she was even trying to ask.]
[ As fast as it happens, it's gone again, and the disparity is so sharp that he almost forgets to breathe out once he's breathed in. He's sitting, just like she'd ordered, even if he'd stupidly disobeyed. (Not what he's good at.) Between them, the atmosphere charges. Kaname is up, measuring the change in the air with movement. Responsibility. Messer doesn't even compare. Even dropping his arm to rest his hand across his middle, sheets disarrayed there and bunched at all his angles, seems to take forever. His hands are warm and restless, but he's a soldier. He suppresses the urge to move, to figure out how the lay of muscle works, to parse the soft feeling of her skin beneath his fingertips.
Messer's silence says everything: he's not sure what to say now either. Since joining Delta Platoon, all he's done is out of the need to ensure her safety. As a pilot, but also as a person, the lone survivor of the Var's rampage through Marienburg. Messer has carefully upheld the wide margin of space he puts between him and her, depending on her, owing her everything, and yet never wanting to weigh her down with what he could become without her.
Except he tore down that barrier when all he thought he had left was his duty. When his body was all he had left to launch a gambit. It's ironic that now, at this crucial juncture between them, it's not what he has to say that rings clear as a bell in his mind, but something he was told.
I'm too busy with the present...
Of all the times. It coincides with the dip in pressure on the bed as Kaname sits, and Messer looks up, calmer. A ghost of something more sincere passes through his expression as she tries to find words for a question he's long since had the answer to. ]
My apologies, Kaname-san.
[ Again, his wrist tilts, palm tipping politely upwards to her, fingers outstretched. ]
[Relief floods her being, and she finds herself visibly relaxing, shoulders falling with the release of tension. All she does is nod, her gratitude already written on her features.
Kaname carefully shifts to turn and face him, drawing her legs on to the bed, back now to the chair she previously occupied. With her arm pushed against the end of his pillow, she remains upright, looking him over. Her eyes soften upon seeing his face, a sincere, almost content smile forming.]
I didn't want to leave. I think you have a right to know that.
[She breaks away from his gaze, moving to position the green blanket over her feet and legs, letting the rest lay on her waist. Once settled, she shifts downward just slightly, and leans back against the bed. Her arm is bent underneath her head to serve as a makeshift pillow, elbow shoved under the edge of his.
Her hand moves to his, brushing his outstretched fingers briefly, before reaching around his form to rest on the opposite cheek. Messer's cheekbone sports a nasty cut, and her thumb softly traces the adhesive strip shielding it. Kaname goes through that motion a few times, then gently urges him to turn his head enough to face her.
The smile he sees is nothing short of heartfelt and genuine when she looks at him. She exhales softly through her nose is what might very well be a small laugh.]
[ He intones right after her, alluding to his own choice in the process. Two choices that have lead them right here to one another after all. His voice is quiet and calm, sharp and clear as a starry night might be, but sparked with the truth of the statement also. Almost like a quip, though he'd deny the flicker of a smile if confronted about it. Instead, Messer is patient while she settles, her slim frame edging along his more severe outline, slow and mindful. Even in his injured state, he's too grounded to think that this is all just some fever dream. All the tension recedes, like a tide, like the waves of Ragna he's watches so many times before. Kaname tucks herself near him, proving how scant little separates them.
Exhaustion burns in him, dully, but his pulse ticks all the same. Her coaxing gets him to face her, pulled by the gentleness of her touch, unlike everything else he's felt recently. Scarred metal, shattered glass, fire, smoke. He blinks, eyelids heavy, but ultimately keeps looking at her. An anchor in the tide, gravity beneath a sky. Beautiful things that remind him of home. This is who she is, to him.
Even when her face is streaked with dust and dried tears. Messer shifts on the pillow to see her better, to chase that whisper of a laugh. ]
...and in saying it, I've been waiting to hear that.
[Her own figure goes slack, finally able to fully relax. The sleep on the chair was hardly restful with all the surrounding circumstances weighing on her mind. But now, she can obtain a semblance of peace.]
Then how about this? [She keeps her hand cupping his cheek, thumb lightly tracing--almost ghosting across-- the ridge of his brow to rest on his cheekbone. A shiver runs through her body. The room is cold, too cold even for a medbay, but while her body notices, her mind doesn't. She continues to stare into his eyes.]
Welcome back, Messer-kun.
[Kaname takes a slow, deep breath, hand sliding to the nape of his neck, fingers reach for his hair once again. She has to resist gripping it too tight. He's back, and he's safe, right next to her. Doing so would only hurt, not reassure her any more. Her arm moves to accommodate the new angle, but a quick, sharp feeling in her shoulder elicits a wince and an involuntary recoil.]
Ugh, geez. [She rolls her shoulder methodically, careful not to hurt it further, only looking back at Messer with a sheepish smile when she's done.] Sorry. I don't really know how long I was asleep like that. [On the chair, waiting for him.]
I should have asked, do you need anything? Another pillow, some water? I can be useful, you know. [All this is said with a grin, the message below the attempt at humor perfectly earnest and sincere.] Just tell me, okay?
[ Messer thinks that on some level, he ought to be surprised at how easy she makes it all sound. But he isn't, not really. Within Walküre, she shines like that, but it graces her beyond it too — a strength that soothes, and a kindness that has always been unconditional. Her touch warms him as much as her voice, especially saying two words he hadn't known mattered so much until now. Messer nods, in action that is nearly deferential. ]
I'm home.
[ He'd probably be content to stay there for as long as she'd let him if not for the following action, the sharp jerk away from him. Whatever state he's in, he can't slough off his years of training, his years of looking after her, and he starts, gaze sharpening. Seeing that it's not immediately serious doesn't ease his expression, at least for a second or two.
Messer hadn't asked how long it'd been. Now it just seems in poor taste to do so, too sore a subject to invite back in. Instead, he shifts his arm over, clearing a space next to him close enough to where she won't have to reach so far. And — ]
Mm. [It's a quiet affirmation, as if her thoughts are elsewhere, though her smile relays the connection to the present. She reaches down to pull the blanket up further until it's under her arm, as high as it can go. Another moment passes where she simply looks at him, almost deciding something.
Against her somewhat better judgement, Kaname accepts his wordless invitation, moving slightly closer, his arm now almost trapped between them. Her eyes close, and she angles her head forward to softly rest her forehead against his shoulder. Her hand moves from the blanket to follow suit, resting there as well, fingers gently tracing his collarbone.
For a long, silent stretch, she stays like this, perfectly content to simply be. Of course she'll listen to anything he might say, even offer a brief reply of a kind if required, but she doesn't pose a question of her own just yet. When she does, it's an odd one. She opens her eyes and tilts her head to look at him.]
Be honest with me, Messer-kun. How's this shoulder doing? Does it hurt?
[ Truthfully, it's easier for him to be still once they've settled. Being so injured isn't exactly new; that's two brinks of death he's survived, first by Arad's hand, and now Kaname's. But it is the first time he's shared space with anyone in the aftermath, and he wills the dull, thudding ache of his injuries down as long as he has her on his shoulder. Instead, he focuses on the measure of her breath, strands of hair brushing against his skin. Warmth now curled up between them, however slightly. Messer almost drifts off like that, to the rhythm of her fingertips, only to register — a question?
She's asking him a question. The question. Almost immediately, on pure impulse, he replies. ]
No.
[ Yes. ]
I'm fine.
[ Or rather, that shoulder is fine, relative to the severity of every other injury he's sustained.
Meaning: everything hurts, but he's not going to be the first to admit it. "Be honest" is a command that seems to have ironically flown right over his head. It's just reflex by now to shrug it off, even if he's all but immobile thanks to it. Messer knows it, just like he knows Kaname knows it, and his gaze turns somewhat flat as he looks aside. ]
[The question is posed that way for a reason, one he'll be privy to soon enough, but despite that, she can't help her sigh of disappointment in his response. Part of her hopes-- hoped?-- that he'd be honest with her now, given the still very recent circumstances. Her hand leaves his shoulder, though her touch lingers a moment.]
I'll have to take your word for it, then.
[With a groan, the singer shifts, pushing herself up into a sitting position, and looks down at him. A small smile plays on her lips as she takes his hand, the one that was between them. She holds it, seemingly reluctant to let go, but carefully moves it, and his arm, away from him to the edge of the bed. He doesn't stay that way for long, not exactly.
Kaname scoots down and moves to lay in the space between his torso and arm, body to body, her head meant to rest on his shoulder. But she refrains from doing so, even when the rest of her is snug against him. She seeks his gaze, a new trepidation now forming in her eyes.]
Is this okay? [Will it hurt? Is it too soon? This is what you wanted, right?
So may questions whirl around her head. Coupled with the warmth of his body and the pounding of her own heart, a light haze begins to form in her mind. She blinks it back, focusing on him. He's injured, badly so, and she knows this has to be done carefully or not at all.
The thought of him still in pain, like she knows he is, needles her, the concern almost overwhelming. More than anything, Kaname wants to bury her face against him and grab hold, never letting go. The look in her eyes has to convey some of this, she's sure. Almost in a plea, she makes a request.]
Tell me what you're thinking. [She still hasn't laid her head down.]
[ Whatever he says to the contrary, he's been in her hands since they both woke up here. Messer's trust may operate as an undercurrent to everything that he does and believes, but it also carries the strength and depth of one. He accepts her movement with a watchful eye, having caught her sigh at his answer. That's how this often goes. Soothing over their wants with their duties, accepting that it might not come to more than that, for both of their sakes. This time is the first time he's felt transparent in light of it though, knowing there are no more secrets. At least not entirely.
His fingers twitch as she arranges herself under his arm, nerves alight for so many reasons. Pain, yes, but also anticipation for Kaname's sudden closeness. It is what he wants, what he's always wanted, but he'd clamped down on the urge to pursue it as if his constitution had teeth. Replaced soft things with severity, with what he was good at. Flying. Fighting.
After it all, knowing he's thought about this before, at some point that seems far so off — is this okay? ]
I've heard that what I did resembles repayment of a debt. But that's not right.
[ Mirage asked him. He couldn't refute, couldn't affirm. Messer shifts his arm, bending the crook of his elbow to draw her closer to him, to hold her as well as he's able. His threshold for pain won't betray him now, not if he can help it. His cheek remains on the pillow, watching for any sign that he can chase away the hesitation in her eyes. ]
You don't sing intending to be repaid for what you do.
[ That's never what he's heard in her voice, in the long hours of having her to focus on. ]
I don't regret this, because my duty is to protect you.
[ Anytime he used that reasoning, it was because this lied at the crux, the axis of who they are. ]
[Recognition pierces through the hesitation, understanding his words and the meaning behind them. Her immediate response is to finally rest her head on his shoulder, though she doesn't relax, not fully, her innate fear of hurting him more still keeping hold. She reaches down to draw the blanket upwards again. It's not out of need for warmth, but the need for cover, as if she wants to keep this to just themselves, despite no other souls being present.
She lets out another sigh, this one almost assuredly amused. Fingers move over to lay on his chest, palm open across his heart to feel its steady rhythm.]
When you mention duty, it almost sounds as if I'm an obligation you have to attend to. I don't think that's what you mean. Correct me if I'm wrong.
[The tone in her voice is teasing, almost baiting him to play along, but a refutation would be most welcomed, depending on its nature. It's also a way to keep her mind off the state he's in. Of course he's out of the woods, he'll live. But any long term effects have yet to be determined. There are a number of possibilities. She heard the medical staff talking, and she left before any details were mentioned. Some information is best left unknown.]
[ When the dust finally settles, it really is just the two of them. Messer thinks — this is okay. It's okay to stay alive, to be here. Under the glare of halogen, in the cold, feeling anything but. An unlikely moment, but one he can't take for granted, not in good conscience. Not now that they've sent barrier after barrier collapsing beneath this weight that grounds him, that rests his wings. In reply, he's silent, deathly so, invoking his own callsign. Some of his former sharpness glints through, even as his opposite arm shifts, crossing over his middle. Messer catches Kaname's hand and steadies it over his heart. ]
Don't mistake me, Kaname-san.
[ His fingers tighten over her hand, willful and kind, meeting her playfulness with a piercing gaze. He's seen it, how she's content to play off her concerns and her whispers of melancholy by offering smiles, by placating. They're not so dissimilar. Except she has always been too honest, and he has always been too headstrong.
His thumb trails over the top of her hand, over the most delicate of bones, atop the sound of his heart. His gaze stays intent on her. ]
[Excitement, anticipation, and nervousness overtake her all at once. The intensity of his gaze is hypnotic, she can't move. She can't look away. Her breath catches, suddenly even more aware of their diminished proximity. Is there any space left between them? The press of her chest to the side of his when she finally does breathe in says no.
Finally, as if any lingering doubts are pulled from her, she gives in, relaxing. The tension leaves her, and Messer should feel the weight of her head against him, like he's an anchor keeping her from retreating. She shivers more, for many reasons, yet the cold isn't among them.]
I don't... think I can. [Words escape her, much like her senses. Locked in this connection, attention focused all on her, Kaname feels knots forming inside, more intense and prevalent than anything she's felt before. Concerts, under a single spotlight, media interviews, leading auditions, or giving reports to packed rooms, even singing on the front lines-- all of those pale in comparison.
Eyes not leaving his (still unable), she takes his hand in her own, tightening as well. Quietly, gently, she guides them both towards her, movement ceasing once her lips are placed softly on his bandaged knuckles as if she's whispering to him.]
[ There's something reverent in the way that she moves now, careful not to disturb this fragile thing between them. A balance of two points, and all of Messer's hesitation burned away at where they intersect. Dealing death, skirting its outline time after time... Messer's prevalence of strength and skill have carried him on the wind, up until now. In this moment, he's pushed a measure of that trust into Kaname's slim hands, the fingers still captured in his own as her lips caress over the divots of his knuckles. Weight for weight.
In return, she's given him understanding to the questions he'd never thought he had long enough to ask. Something ticks in his throat, at his pulse points, floods his chest with a feeling not unlike adrenaline, even if it's softer at the corners. With a quiet grunt, Messer shifts on his elbow again, taking more care now that Kaname is fit against it. It's not the same reckless move he'd tried earlier, but a kinder version of it — pushing himself up onto his side to better wind his arm around her. Holding her is easier when he faces her, using the movement to free his hand from hers, if only to ghost his knuckles across her cheek, over the tracks her tears have made in the dust.
Messer goes forehead to forehead with her, having nothing else to say to the questions they've both had, that have slept too long under other circumstances. Right now, with one hand at the small of her back and the other gliding through the hair behind her ear, there isn't anything else for him. ]
[Kaname inhales sharply, his sudden movements and the grunt of effort (and with what she expects is pain), catching her off guard enough to break the trance. She moves her hand the same time as his, hers pressed against his chest, fingertips resting on his clavicle. In fact, that's where both are situated, one on either shoulder. There's nothing she can do but shift with him. Luckily, it's not a big move, though she's higher up on the bed. Or he's lower down. Either way, their faces are now level, and she can see the look in his eyes.]
Messer-kun, you shouldn't be do--
[Her breath catches, and she can feel her own heart speed up. When she feels his hand on her back, she starts, a jolt of electricity so clearly to blame. She swallows, closing her eyes as his knuckles trace her across her cheek, reveling in the touch. Foreheads meets, and his fingers weaving through her hair, a happy sigh-- a very happy sigh-- escapes her.
Control ebbs, and she reaches around, arm snaking over his shoulder, around to his back, then up the back of his neck, fingers taking in every contour and muscle there. Again, she's tangled up in his hair, holding his head to her. She cracks one bright blue eye open to look at him and issue a warning.]
Just remember how scared I'll be if you hurt yourself further. [The words are meant to act as a deterrent to prevent anything else from happening. Much more would definitely serve as a setback on his road to complete recovery. Still, while there is a line, they haven't crossed it just yet.
Angles adjust, and her eye closes again. His head to moved forward so his lips will meets hers. Kaname kisses him, gently at first, then more eagerly. It's not demanding, not yet. The message is there, a promise of what's to come, if this works out. What she wants, what she imagines he wants, too, but he might never have dared imagine. It's all there, just waiting for him to get better.]
[ Messer leans in for her as their lips meet, encouraged by the touch she tracks up the back of his neck, through his hair. An action that leaves nothing but light shapes on the back of his eyes, and the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. It's thunderous in comparison to how softly it carries out — their first kiss is gentle, supportive, and he almost fails to restrain himself on the second. It'd be so easy to fall into more, to take this want and fly with it, but her warning sits pretty in the back of his mind. Innocuous, melodic. He tilts his jaw, leaving a lingering kiss on her bottom lip. His own quirk, just at the corners, and if she's quick, she'll catch it before he breaks it.
A small smile, meant for her. As they usually are. He exhales, a short huff, touching his brow to hers again. ]
Understood.
[ Instinctively, Messer falls into line with her, eyes opening to wisps of red on his peripherals, the shape her lashes make against her cheek. His fingers have traveled through her length of hair to settle on her neck, thumb just shy of her jawline. If this is the last thing he'll ever do, he knows that being tangled up in her like this just once would've been worth it.
But it won't be the last time.
Knowing that, he moves to settle down on his side, urging her to lay with him. He can know what unspoken promise exists between them now, but he's still not going to be quick to let go of her. ]
[The warning is for him, to remind him of what could happen. But also, with those words, she knows he'll be able to control things so they don't go too far. It's up to him to make sure they're both okay in the end, him physically, and her emotionally, as knowing she might be the cause for his pain would be a tremendous weight on her. He'd never allow that to happen.
Manipulation isn't a skill she likes to employ at all, but sometimes it's required. She knows herself well enough to have foreseen her probable inability to take charge once things began. And she's right.
When Messer breaks the kiss, his smile, his exhale, his touch, Kaname knows she made the right call. Her breath is heavy, bordering on a pant. His thumb on her jawline, hand behind her head... She moves, she needs to. Ducking her head, she buries her face into the crook of his neck, red locks tickling his jaw, now now immersing it. Tucked against him, she regains control, steadying her breathing, closing her eyes to feel both their heartbeats. Vision clears, the darkened edges slowly abating.
She breathes in deeply, as much as she can, her chest against his, taking in his scent. Smoke, fire, sweat. There's more. The underlying scent of him. She relishes the sensation, arms slinking around him, one on either side, to hold him close, lest he vanish upon release.]
Messer. [His name escapes her, a sigh, meant for no one else. If she's aware she said it, there's no indication. Kaname is lost. In him, in them. If prompted, she'd say being found isn't an option.]
[ If anything can be said about him, beyond his solemnity and his silence, it's that Messer is a patient man. And not always as unaffected as he seems, despite that. Something about her shortness of breath against his mouth makes her sudden movement a hazy blur, and Messer finds himself full of her in the same instant. So full. Pressed flush to him, taking his breath away in kind. Messer knows her voice inside and out. He cherishes it. Hearing his name like that, quiet, breathlessly — a jolt races up his back, but he minds it. Its lattices only make it so far under the responsibility he feels for her. His arms circle about her, one to her shoulders, one to her waist. To steady them both.
To prove that even now, he is listening. ]
Kaname. [ He murmurs her name into her hair, no formality attached, cheek pressed to her crown. ] It's alright.
[ Those words have been Messer's mantra for so long, but there's a new light to it. For the first time that he can remember since Marienburg, Messer doesn't wonder about the merit of his own life. Even if he's carefully locked what might have been away, her effect is unmistakable: throwing open all the windows, warming the long halls of his heart. Her deep breaths resonate in his chest, and he tightens his hold on her in reassurance.
It's alright because they're both here. Tired, hurt, holding the pieces together between them. Together. ]
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And now, having someone who won't allow him to fall, even if he would have done it again. A thousand times. However many it'd take to keep her safe. ]
There is. [ Messer balances on his other arm, fist clutched into the sheets at his side. By sheer force of will, he suppresses the shake in his nerves. It's his fault the clues he left were too few, too late. His fault that he'd staked everything on a fight he didn't even win. It's not like him, but it seems so faraway in comparison to how she says his name. ] There is a reason.
[ His temple meets hers, cheek to cheek as he leans into her heavily. Steadied by the crook of her arm, her warmth and the scent of dust and ozone makes his head spin. His forehead drops to her shoulder. ]
So don't apologize.
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[Kaname's words are soft and quiet, barely spoken above a whisper due to the sudden proximity. He can feel her heartbeat quicken and her shaky breath against his neck, the sudden tension in her shoulders when his forehead makes contact. She stays there for a moment, closing her eyes tightly in an attempt to calm herself.
Then she straightens, just barely, but enough to clear her knees from the floor. A small grunt escapes her once she takes on his weight, her hand moving from his hair to the back of his head to cradle it. Messer is solidly built and has a good nine inches on her, so she has to be careful. For both of them. Slowly, very slowly, she guides his form back to his proper place in bed, cautious not to bump him or disturb the monitors. To get his shoulder there comfortably, Kaname places a knee on the side of the bed so she can lean over him for a better angle.
She withdraws her hand from his back, still mindful of the equipment and his injuries. Even when he's back in bed, she remains, her other hand still idly playing with his hair. Turning, her knee is moved so she's now sitting on the edge of the bed, watching over him.]
Please, just stay here. Try to relax. [She pauses, a soft smile playing on her lips. The hand withdraws from his hair to reach to the bedside table and grab a small remote control. It's gently placed in his hand.]
Here, this is the way we'd prefer you to sit up. It controls the bed, Messer-kun.
[The last statement is meant as a bit of a tease.]
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...is the uninhibited thought barely formed before he can think twice. Messer's throat runs dry at the force of the feeling, but he doesn't get the chance to speak it through the haze before she's moving. Whether it's him or her, it's happened enough for him to be familiar. Except neither of them leaves this time. Her fingers slip through his hair, carving through his awareness with a clarity that makes his chest pang. Mustering up enough strength to move with her comes naturally after that, knowing how much more of a burden he's just made out of himself. Soon enough, he's flat on his back, the monitors soothing over to steady blips. He's irritated at them, at being confined, but he supposes he only has himself to blame.
Then the presence of the remote intrudes his peripherals, and he turns his face aside to stare at it. Probably for a little too long, really. Flatly at first, then with a sudden creased brow and set jaw. Messer's gaze flicks up Kaname's arm, settling on her face with some of his usual intensity. He knows that tone. ]
I don't need it.
[ Though that won't be his only dumb stunt of the day. (Clearly, given his track record lately.) Despite his insistence, he reaches up. He slips the remote from her grasp, discarding it. Instead, he returns to trail his fingertips along her palm. His movement is still slow, somewhat stilted. Pain is a factor, but so is wonder. An awe that she's actually still here with him. And him wondering — is this okay?
Messer's fingers lace with Kaname's, skin callused from years of piloting still soft against the grooves of her knuckles. ]
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Um, I'm going to sit you up a bit, so don't be surprised. [Another brief pause occurs before she presses a button, and the bed beneath his shoulders and torso begins to rise, stopping once it's at a forty-five degree angle. Moments pass again, then she slowly retreats from the bed entirely, still not looking directly at him. She takes a step back, setting the remote back on the night stand.]
I'm sorry. [Kaname crouches to pick up the green blanket and pink rabbit pillow from the floor, gripping them tightly in her hands.] Messer-kun, I'm not sure what to say now.
[Her voice trails off, though she stands, grasping the items like a lifeline, until she finally looks at him. The uncertainty--maybe even doubt-- from before is still there, but more obvious. She swallows, lump in her throat not seeming to move.
Seconds seem like hours until she finally takes a step forward, shoving her previously shed boots aside. Softly, she reclaims her spot on the edge of the bed, hands, as well as blanket and pillow, retreating to her lap. Kaname averts her gaze, growing more and more unsure with each passing second. It's almost a miracle she manages to speak what words she does.]
I... Can I-- [She looks back up at the bed, him there, eyes moving over the entire thing in question. Unformed words swirl in her head, fighting to come out, order not important. However, the ones that make it, are the safer of the options.]
Sorry, forget it. I'm being silly.
[A weak smile is what she can manage as she pulls into herself, almost ashamed she was even trying to ask.]
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Messer's silence says everything: he's not sure what to say now either. Since joining Delta Platoon, all he's done is out of the need to ensure her safety. As a pilot, but also as a person, the lone survivor of the Var's rampage through Marienburg. Messer has carefully upheld the wide margin of space he puts between him and her, depending on her, owing her everything, and yet never wanting to weigh her down with what he could become without her.
Except he tore down that barrier when all he thought he had left was his duty. When his body was all he had left to launch a gambit. It's ironic that now, at this crucial juncture between them, it's not what he has to say that rings clear as a bell in his mind, but something he was told.
I'm too busy with the present...
Of all the times. It coincides with the dip in pressure on the bed as Kaname sits, and Messer looks up, calmer. A ghost of something more sincere passes through his expression as she tries to find words for a question he's long since had the answer to. ]
My apologies, Kaname-san.
[ Again, his wrist tilts, palm tipping politely upwards to her, fingers outstretched. ]
Will you stay here with me?
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Kaname carefully shifts to turn and face him, drawing her legs on to the bed, back now to the chair she previously occupied. With her arm pushed against the end of his pillow, she remains upright, looking him over. Her eyes soften upon seeing his face, a sincere, almost content smile forming.]
I didn't want to leave. I think you have a right to know that.
[She breaks away from his gaze, moving to position the green blanket over her feet and legs, letting the rest lay on her waist. Once settled, she shifts downward just slightly, and leans back against the bed. Her arm is bent underneath her head to serve as a makeshift pillow, elbow shoved under the edge of his.
Her hand moves to his, brushing his outstretched fingers briefly, before reaching around his form to rest on the opposite cheek. Messer's cheekbone sports a nasty cut, and her thumb softly traces the adhesive strip shielding it. Kaname goes through that motion a few times, then gently urges him to turn his head enough to face her.
The smile he sees is nothing short of heartfelt and genuine when she looks at him. She exhales softly through her nose is what might very well be a small laugh.]
Hi.
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[ He intones right after her, alluding to his own choice in the process. Two choices that have lead them right here to one another after all. His voice is quiet and calm, sharp and clear as a starry night might be, but sparked with the truth of the statement also. Almost like a quip, though he'd deny the flicker of a smile if confronted about it. Instead, Messer is patient while she settles, her slim frame edging along his more severe outline, slow and mindful. Even in his injured state, he's too grounded to think that this is all just some fever dream. All the tension recedes, like a tide, like the waves of Ragna he's watches so many times before. Kaname tucks herself near him, proving how scant little separates them.
Exhaustion burns in him, dully, but his pulse ticks all the same. Her coaxing gets him to face her, pulled by the gentleness of her touch, unlike everything else he's felt recently. Scarred metal, shattered glass, fire, smoke. He blinks, eyelids heavy, but ultimately keeps looking at her. An anchor in the tide, gravity beneath a sky. Beautiful things that remind him of home. This is who she is, to him.
Even when her face is streaked with dust and dried tears. Messer shifts on the pillow to see her better, to chase that whisper of a laugh. ]
...and in saying it, I've been waiting to hear that.
[ A hello, rather than a goodbye. ]
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Then how about this? [She keeps her hand cupping his cheek, thumb lightly tracing--almost ghosting across-- the ridge of his brow to rest on his cheekbone. A shiver runs through her body. The room is cold, too cold even for a medbay, but while her body notices, her mind doesn't. She continues to stare into his eyes.]
Welcome back, Messer-kun.
[Kaname takes a slow, deep breath, hand sliding to the nape of his neck, fingers reach for his hair once again. She has to resist gripping it too tight. He's back, and he's safe, right next to her. Doing so would only hurt, not reassure her any more. Her arm moves to accommodate the new angle, but a quick, sharp feeling in her shoulder elicits a wince and an involuntary recoil.]
Ugh, geez. [She rolls her shoulder methodically, careful not to hurt it further, only looking back at Messer with a sheepish smile when she's done.] Sorry. I don't really know how long I was asleep like that. [On the chair, waiting for him.]
I should have asked, do you need anything? Another pillow, some water? I can be useful, you know. [All this is said with a grin, the message below the attempt at humor perfectly earnest and sincere.] Just tell me, okay?
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I'm home.
[ He'd probably be content to stay there for as long as she'd let him if not for the following action, the sharp jerk away from him. Whatever state he's in, he can't slough off his years of training, his years of looking after her, and he starts, gaze sharpening. Seeing that it's not immediately serious doesn't ease his expression, at least for a second or two.
Messer hadn't asked how long it'd been. Now it just seems in poor taste to do so, too sore a subject to invite back in. Instead, he shifts his arm over, clearing a space next to him close enough to where she won't have to reach so far. And — ]
You've done plenty for me already. Are you cold?
[ Yeah, he noticed. ]
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Against her somewhat better judgement, Kaname accepts his wordless invitation, moving slightly closer, his arm now almost trapped between them. Her eyes close, and she angles her head forward to softly rest her forehead against his shoulder. Her hand moves from the blanket to follow suit, resting there as well, fingers gently tracing his collarbone.
For a long, silent stretch, she stays like this, perfectly content to simply be. Of course she'll listen to anything he might say, even offer a brief reply of a kind if required, but she doesn't pose a question of her own just yet. When she does, it's an odd one. She opens her eyes and tilts her head to look at him.]
Be honest with me, Messer-kun. How's this shoulder doing? Does it hurt?
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She's asking him a question. The question. Almost immediately, on pure impulse, he replies. ]
No.
[ Yes. ]
I'm fine.
[ Or rather, that shoulder is fine, relative to the severity of every other injury he's sustained.
Meaning: everything hurts, but he's not going to be the first to admit it. "Be honest" is a command that seems to have ironically flown right over his head. It's just reflex by now to shrug it off, even if he's all but immobile thanks to it. Messer knows it, just like he knows Kaname knows it, and his gaze turns somewhat flat as he looks aside. ]
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I'll have to take your word for it, then.
[With a groan, the singer shifts, pushing herself up into a sitting position, and looks down at him. A small smile plays on her lips as she takes his hand, the one that was between them. She holds it, seemingly reluctant to let go, but carefully moves it, and his arm, away from him to the edge of the bed. He doesn't stay that way for long, not exactly.
Kaname scoots down and moves to lay in the space between his torso and arm, body to body, her head meant to rest on his shoulder. But she refrains from doing so, even when the rest of her is snug against him. She seeks his gaze, a new trepidation now forming in her eyes.]
Is this okay? [Will it hurt? Is it too soon? This is what you wanted, right?
So may questions whirl around her head. Coupled with the warmth of his body and the pounding of her own heart, a light haze begins to form in her mind. She blinks it back, focusing on him. He's injured, badly so, and she knows this has to be done carefully or not at all.
The thought of him still in pain, like she knows he is, needles her, the concern almost overwhelming. More than anything, Kaname wants to bury her face against him and grab hold, never letting go. The look in her eyes has to convey some of this, she's sure. Almost in a plea, she makes a request.]
Tell me what you're thinking. [She still hasn't laid her head down.]
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His fingers twitch as she arranges herself under his arm, nerves alight for so many reasons. Pain, yes, but also anticipation for Kaname's sudden closeness. It is what he wants, what he's always wanted, but he'd clamped down on the urge to pursue it as if his constitution had teeth. Replaced soft things with severity, with what he was good at. Flying. Fighting.
After it all, knowing he's thought about this before, at some point that seems far so off — is this okay? ]
I've heard that what I did resembles repayment of a debt. But that's not right.
[ Mirage asked him. He couldn't refute, couldn't affirm. Messer shifts his arm, bending the crook of his elbow to draw her closer to him, to hold her as well as he's able. His threshold for pain won't betray him now, not if he can help it. His cheek remains on the pillow, watching for any sign that he can chase away the hesitation in her eyes. ]
You don't sing intending to be repaid for what you do.
[ That's never what he's heard in her voice, in the long hours of having her to focus on. ]
I don't regret this, because my duty is to protect you.
[ Anytime he used that reasoning, it was because this lied at the crux, the axis of who they are. ]
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She lets out another sigh, this one almost assuredly amused. Fingers move over to lay on his chest, palm open across his heart to feel its steady rhythm.]
When you mention duty, it almost sounds as if I'm an obligation you have to attend to. I don't think that's what you mean. Correct me if I'm wrong.
[The tone in her voice is teasing, almost baiting him to play along, but a refutation would be most welcomed, depending on its nature. It's also a way to keep her mind off the state he's in. Of course he's out of the woods, he'll live. But any long term effects have yet to be determined. There are a number of possibilities. She heard the medical staff talking, and she left before any details were mentioned. Some information is best left unknown.]
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[ When the dust finally settles, it really is just the two of them. Messer thinks — this is okay. It's okay to stay alive, to be here. Under the glare of halogen, in the cold, feeling anything but. An unlikely moment, but one he can't take for granted, not in good conscience. Not now that they've sent barrier after barrier collapsing beneath this weight that grounds him, that rests his wings. In reply, he's silent, deathly so, invoking his own callsign. Some of his former sharpness glints through, even as his opposite arm shifts, crossing over his middle. Messer catches Kaname's hand and steadies it over his heart. ]
Don't mistake me, Kaname-san.
[ His fingers tighten over her hand, willful and kind, meeting her playfulness with a piercing gaze. He's seen it, how she's content to play off her concerns and her whispers of melancholy by offering smiles, by placating. They're not so dissimilar. Except she has always been too honest, and he has always been too headstrong.
His thumb trails over the top of her hand, over the most delicate of bones, atop the sound of his heart. His gaze stays intent on her. ]
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Finally, as if any lingering doubts are pulled from her, she gives in, relaxing. The tension leaves her, and Messer should feel the weight of her head against him, like he's an anchor keeping her from retreating. She shivers more, for many reasons, yet the cold isn't among them.]
I don't... think I can. [Words escape her, much like her senses. Locked in this connection, attention focused all on her, Kaname feels knots forming inside, more intense and prevalent than anything she's felt before. Concerts, under a single spotlight, media interviews, leading auditions, or giving reports to packed rooms, even singing on the front lines-- all of those pale in comparison.
Eyes not leaving his (still unable), she takes his hand in her own, tightening as well. Quietly, gently, she guides them both towards her, movement ceasing once her lips are placed softly on his bandaged knuckles as if she's whispering to him.]
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In return, she's given him understanding to the questions he'd never thought he had long enough to ask. Something ticks in his throat, at his pulse points, floods his chest with a feeling not unlike adrenaline, even if it's softer at the corners. With a quiet grunt, Messer shifts on his elbow again, taking more care now that Kaname is fit against it. It's not the same reckless move he'd tried earlier, but a kinder version of it — pushing himself up onto his side to better wind his arm around her. Holding her is easier when he faces her, using the movement to free his hand from hers, if only to ghost his knuckles across her cheek, over the tracks her tears have made in the dust.
Messer goes forehead to forehead with her, having nothing else to say to the questions they've both had, that have slept too long under other circumstances. Right now, with one hand at the small of her back and the other gliding through the hair behind her ear, there isn't anything else for him. ]
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Messer-kun, you shouldn't be do--
[Her breath catches, and she can feel her own heart speed up. When she feels his hand on her back, she starts, a jolt of electricity so clearly to blame. She swallows, closing her eyes as his knuckles trace her across her cheek, reveling in the touch. Foreheads meets, and his fingers weaving through her hair, a happy sigh-- a very happy sigh-- escapes her.
Control ebbs, and she reaches around, arm snaking over his shoulder, around to his back, then up the back of his neck, fingers taking in every contour and muscle there. Again, she's tangled up in his hair, holding his head to her. She cracks one bright blue eye open to look at him and issue a warning.]
Just remember how scared I'll be if you hurt yourself further. [The words are meant to act as a deterrent to prevent anything else from happening. Much more would definitely serve as a setback on his road to complete recovery. Still, while there is a line, they haven't crossed it just yet.
Angles adjust, and her eye closes again. His head to moved forward so his lips will meets hers. Kaname kisses him, gently at first, then more eagerly. It's not demanding, not yet. The message is there, a promise of what's to come, if this works out. What she wants, what she imagines he wants, too, but he might never have dared imagine. It's all there, just waiting for him to get better.]
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A small smile, meant for her. As they usually are. He exhales, a short huff, touching his brow to hers again. ]
Understood.
[ Instinctively, Messer falls into line with her, eyes opening to wisps of red on his peripherals, the shape her lashes make against her cheek. His fingers have traveled through her length of hair to settle on her neck, thumb just shy of her jawline. If this is the last thing he'll ever do, he knows that being tangled up in her like this just once would've been worth it.
But it won't be the last time.
Knowing that, he moves to settle down on his side, urging her to lay with him. He can know what unspoken promise exists between them now, but he's still not going to be quick to let go of her. ]
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Manipulation isn't a skill she likes to employ at all, but sometimes it's required. She knows herself well enough to have foreseen her probable inability to take charge once things began. And she's right.
When Messer breaks the kiss, his smile, his exhale, his touch, Kaname knows she made the right call. Her breath is heavy, bordering on a pant. His thumb on her jawline, hand behind her head... She moves, she needs to. Ducking her head, she buries her face into the crook of his neck, red locks tickling his jaw, now now immersing it. Tucked against him, she regains control, steadying her breathing, closing her eyes to feel both their heartbeats. Vision clears, the darkened edges slowly abating.
She breathes in deeply, as much as she can, her chest against his, taking in his scent. Smoke, fire, sweat. There's more. The underlying scent of him. She relishes the sensation, arms slinking around him, one on either side, to hold him close, lest he vanish upon release.]
Messer. [His name escapes her, a sigh, meant for no one else. If she's aware she said it, there's no indication. Kaname is lost. In him, in them. If prompted, she'd say being found isn't an option.]
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To prove that even now, he is listening. ]
Kaname. [ He murmurs her name into her hair, no formality attached, cheek pressed to her crown. ] It's alright.
[ Those words have been Messer's mantra for so long, but there's a new light to it. For the first time that he can remember since Marienburg, Messer doesn't wonder about the merit of his own life. Even if he's carefully locked what might have been away, her effect is unmistakable: throwing open all the windows, warming the long halls of his heart. Her deep breaths resonate in his chest, and he tightens his hold on her in reassurance.
It's alright because they're both here. Tired, hurt, holding the pieces together between them. Together. ]