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 Posted: Tue Oct 20, 2015 11:09 pm
Somewhere in all of this, Robert had become something dark, and cold. He realized it when she told him that she'd never ask him to harm the woman, and the first thought that popped into his mind was that she wouldn't need to. He realized it then; that something was fundamentally wrong with the situation, and the way he was reacting to it. Even more than that, he realized that she was reacting in a healthy, stable way despite his fall from grace, and she was doing so without his support. Without him. It was difficult to appreciate the pride he felt, when the overwhelming emotion engulfing him was loss. We're better than that. Well they were, weren't they? That was what he'd always told her, what he'd always believed. They were better than all the evil in all the world could throw at them, and they overcame every struggle triumphantly, together. Then why, why was he losing this battle with himself? Why couldn't he stop thinking about how easily he could snap a woman's neck? He murred with regret and shame, burrowing his head into Mimsy with needy cuddles that just became a search for sanctuary against her skin. He didn't kiss her; he didn't feel like he was worth it, in that moment. He just buried his face in her neck and her hair, and tried to claw his way back up to a normal, calm, disengaged thought process. He did this wordlessly, because he didn't feel like he was better than anything, anymore, and he did not want to admit it.
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Posted: Sun Oct 25, 2015 1:56 am
Appearances weren't everything, and sometimes Mimsy was too entangled in the idea of looking normal and stable to give a real impression that she wasn't. She had learned how one was supposed to respond and react to a fairly diverse variety of circumstances - trauma, tragedy, surprise, happiness, celebrations, conflicts, among others - and it was often as simple as executing a process when she identified what the circumstances were. In this circumstance, all that she sincerely felt was confusion, which she had never counted as an emotion (and curiosity, of course, persistent in all things). Very little of this made sense, and some of it challenged ideas that were fundamental to the core of who she now was. There were conflicts and errors, and in the absence of an environment where normalcy was important to her, she would only have wanted to know how to correct her thinking to prevent any further errors in thinking as she moved forward. There would have been no implication that she cared. If not for the necessity to seem human, she would have killed her mother and left her in the fog, and she would have felt nothing. She had already begun to construct a list of situational exceptions in which she would just as impassively kill her all the same, all of which were not out of the question for her future. Identifying loopholes. Prioritizing methods. Determining the statistical rate of success. Inside herself, she hid that she was just as dark and cold as she'd always been. She wasn't better than any of the things that had earned her the labels that stripped her of humanity. She never had been, even when she wanted to be. This was a fact, not a feeling, but she was no more willing to admit it. Not even to herself. Especially not to herself. "Robert. Husband." Her voice was as soft as it could be, despite the lack of soothing quality the scratchiness allowed. The gentle fingers that combed through his hair were a bit better. "I know that you want to harm her. Don't you?" The question was rhetorical; she was fairly confident that was still the case. "But that doesn't matter," she continued, wrapping herself more tightly around him. "It doesn't matter because you are aware of what does: us, our love, our marriage, and our family. All of that is good and perfect, because that is how we created it. We now act in the best interest of what matters, and do not act upon what might damage it. We're better than acting upon desires that might destroy all that matters to us, because we have created something together that is worth that. We are not inherently better, but better together. Together. And you have assured me in our time together that thoughts and desires alone do not have to define us. I would like to remind you of that."
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Posted: Sun Oct 25, 2015 3:22 am
He shuddered at the sound of his name falling from her lips with gentle grace, and the feel of her fingers running against his scalp. It was so hard to focus on how guilty he felt, when all his mind could muster was good and yes and more. These little puffs of thought did not change when she asked her question, though the inflections behind the thoughts had gone from blissful to angry. Good. Yes. More. He let out a huff of air against her neck, and lifted his head to try and clear the intoxication her skin and voice had him lost in. The question was rhetorical; even he knew that. She tightened her hold and soothed him with the embrace. Each time she named something that he knew to be more important than anger, a little bit of his frustrations chipped away from the surface. He had love. He had her, and their perfect marriage, and a family. A real family. He had everything he'd ever wanted, and so much more than he could have ever asked for. He breathed in deeply, and let it go in a long and calming sigh. "Did you just use my own advice against me?" He whispered, his lips failing to keep down a smile. She did, and it was unequivocally the right thing to say in that moment. He'd had awful, terrible desires. It did not mean he was an awful, terrible person. His hand lifted to cup her face, and his thumb brushed lovingly across her lower lip. Once, then again, before stilling at the side of her mouth. "You make me feel whole." He admitted, because nothing would ever be the same again unless they were together, the way it was meant to be. Better, just like she'd said. "I don't know how I ever survived without you."
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Posted: Mon Oct 26, 2015 12:39 am
A knowing look and a low, happy sound was the only answer that Mimsy provided, giving it in place of what he already knew on his own. Her eyelids were heavy with adoration as she felt the warmth of his hand against her cheek, and they sunk closed as the touch of his finger over her lips sent a shiver over her skin. Its second pass was caught with a kiss that had been waiting for its return. A fluttering sigh escaped before she could keep it in. She stayed in the middle of all of this for as long as she could, until her eyes opened again and her lips parted for words this time. "You make me feel," she sluggishly countered, exempting specificity because it simply wasn't needed. "Though I would say that I survived before you, if only for the fact that survival is instinctual and primitive if threatened enough. I survived like a creature does. But when we are together, my existence isn't about survival - it's knowing what it feels like to be alive, and real, and human." Thin fingers crept around his hand as she began to move it away from her face, dragging it down until she could settle his palm in the center of her chest. She smiled, small and demure but genuine, as her fingertips moved in light, delicate paths along the back of his hand. And if it wandered now that she had made her point, that would be just fine.
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Posted: Mon Oct 26, 2015 2:46 am
His touches were gentle brushes against her skin as she spoke, and smiles ghosted against his own lips with soft, carefree satisfaction when she mirrored his thoughts so evenly. He even chuckled when she told him that she felt alive, because he could feel his blood pumping faster through his veins in response to the sound of her voice. He knew exactly how she felt. But it was when she admitted that he made her feel human, that his gentleness faded. His hand curved hard around her chin, holding her face flush against his with a possessive hunger. It was that woman's fault that Mimsy needed someone to help her feel human at all, and he wouldn't easily forget it. But it was the fact that he could do that for her; he made her feel all of these things, and above all, human; it was that fact that drove him a little crazier than usual. He suddenly needed to make her feel human more than anything in that one moment. He wanted to infuse that single second with every human emotion and reaction that he alone could elicit from her. But he wasn't that magical, so he chose instead to take all of the next few seconds, minutes, hours, to commit to the job instead. His other hand was placed against the beating heart under her chest, and when he tilted her chin forward, and his lips pressed hard against hers, he found other things to cup as well. Perhaps there was still a little hunger and anger left in him from the conversation. Whatever the case was, the energy that fueled his actions now had a fire burning behind them, and he would have to apologize later if at any point he'd gone too far. He was, after all, only human.
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