adelphoi | (no subject)

(no subject)

[ being in insomnia again is.. strange. the city is the same as she had remembered, and yet so different, so strange after so many long years in tenebrae. this city seems so enormous and sprawling, sharp and stark in comparison, bright and chrome and full of people. though she remembers her time here, her earliest years, she was still quite young when her parents swept she and her brother back to the motherland, and those tender years of growth had been spent in a city very different, a home that she had grown used to, settled into.

and now they are here again, political tensions spurring her father to emigrate here, to lucis again. the empire has been still and quiet, and there have even been talks of treatise, but alisaie trusts her father's judgment, for all his political involvement. more than national pride, he hopes for his family to be safe and secure, and short of living in the bush, insomnia had seemed to him the ideal location. with the wall so strong, such a city must be impenetrable, yes?

alisaie does not know the details of it all, her father would disclose only so much - she and her brother were to focus solely on their studies, bettering themselves, and not to worry about such things outside of their control. lucis might not be a large nation, but insomnia is safe, and secure. it suits their needs just fine.

still, settling in, for alisaie, is not necessarily easy. unlike the rest of her family, smooth-talkers with political savvy, she has a hard enough time simply getting along with her own peers. her friends in tenebrae had been few and distant, their relationships thin and civil but little more. to have to start over again is.. a nightmare. but she is not here to make friends, she is here to finish her schooling, to graduate and prepare for university and beyond. there's nothing to be afraid of.

yet her knuckles are white around the books clutched to her chest as she climbs the stairs that first day, eyes forward, chin high, and it takes less than a week's time for her to earn a reputation as a haughty, conceited little snob, the little rich girl sort who is far too good to waste her time with those she deems beneath her - everyone, apparently. this is not entirely the case of course, but it suits alisaie's needs just fine. let them think what they want, so long as it affords her a wide berth and quiet time to herself, without the terrifying distraction of working her way into, and maintaining her place within, a social circle.

the weekend seems to take an eon to arrive, but friday is here at last. alisaie sits outside at a table on campus, alone, peeling the crusts distractedly from her sandwich, her advanced chemistry textbook open in front of her. three afternoon classes, and this horrible week will be over.. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ He's still perplexed, for a moment longer than he should be, when she begins to tug him back towards her tent. Wait...she's taking him to her tent? This is a kindness she hasn't offered him any of the nights previous. Did that mean...she's willing to let him in again?

...No, that's probably not it. More likely, she doesn't want to be saddled with his sorry as if he catches pneumonia sleeping out in the rain. But there's still something about this that he can't put his finger on. The tent is big enough for two people, but it would not leave a lot of room between them. Will she really let him into her personal space just for his own wellbeing and comfort? ]

You don't have to do this.

[ He insists, though he still follows her to the tent, his heart pounding hard and fast. Why...is he so nervous? They've been far closer than sleeping side by side in a tent.

But there's more to it than that. There's so much more to it than that. ]

[ thankfully she does not need to argue it further, he follows her lead, and once he's climbed inside she's quick to tie the flap shut again to keep out as much of the wind as possible, though it still tugs hard at the canvas, the sound of rain deafening, both of them half-soaked already from only a few minutes in the open air.

there's no time to think about it. she does not even bother to answer him.

instead she turns on him, only able to discern the barest detail of his face, which makes it that much easier to surge forward, pressing her mouth over his, hot and forceful, both hands pressing him back onto her warm bedroll. ]

[ ...Whatever he was expecting when she ties the tent flap shut, it isn't...this. Yes, perhaps in his late night thoughts, after learning she was alive he might have thought...how nice it would be to kiss her again, to hold her near and touch her, but such fantasies were so far beyond his reach that he hadn't given them any real due. She barely speaks to him, only says what she must to keep their journey on track. No matter how much their looks might have crackled with heat and the tension grown taut between them, he hadn't expected she...after everything...

But there is no mistaking this. Her mouth finds his with pressure and heat, and thoughtlessly, his lips part against hers, a deeply wounded sound rolling up from his chest, blood pounding hot against his ears as the feel of her lips stirs memories buried so deep within his heart that it aches to unearth them. She presses him back, straddling his waist, and his arms wind tight around her, fingers sinking into her hair, his head spinning with memory and desire and heartache. ]

Ali...

[ Her name, her nickname shivers from him with a trembling breath, spoken against her lips, tears springing to his eyes. How many times has he thought about this? Her kiss, her touch? How fiercely has he missed this, being wanted by someone in this way? ]

[ she straddles him easily, sinking down against his body, her hands bracketing his face, holding fast while her heart leaps up into her throat, pounding hard, the sound of it in her ears nearly drowning out the cacophonous rain and rumbling thunder. ]

Shutup.

[ the word rasps against his mouth, but she does not stop, her teeth raking his lower lip, her tongue curling into his mouth, her hands dropping to press beneath his shirt, rucking it up around her wrists. there's nothing gentle about her touch, nothing sweet about her kiss, there is only ferocity and need and a deep-seated.. something. rage? frustration? loneliness? all of these things rolled up together into a feeling that twists her heart up tight, making it so easy to ignore the ache left behind by how much she has missed this.

but of course, she can hardly trust him. this does not have to mean anything. they're both frustrated and needy, it's been a long time since she was touched, that's as far as this need go, as much meaning as she need apply to it. ]

[ She doesn't relent. She doesn't soften. Alisaie was ever forward in bed when they were together, but this is...different. This is angry, frustrated, unsweet, and part of him - albeit a very small part - wants to protest, to say no to this, because...what good can it do them? To indulge in a night of hot, needy sex, a brief moment of physical fulfillment that cannot hope to drown out the aching loneliness in his heart? This...isn't right. He doesn't want her to think he's using her again, that he somehow manipulated her into this.

But Prompto is not the one in control here, and they both are keenly aware of the fact. It's evident in the way her hands rake over his skin, dragging over his muscles and scars, and her kisses leave his mouth feeling bruised and battered, her teeth ungentle as they pull on his lip. There is nothing kind or loving about this. It's absolutely unlike every time they slept together in their youth, and it's terrifying.

Terrifying, and...exhilarating. He cannot deny the way his blood rushes at how roughly she handles him, how she pours her frustrations into how she touches and kisses him, and so...the last bit of his resistance crumbles. Okay. If that's how they're going to do this, then that's how they're going to do this. She isn't the only one who is frustrated and angry, and he surges up against her, hips rocking roughly against her own, fingernails digging into her thighs before they slip up beneath her dress, brushing hot and impatient along skin he hasn't touch for so very, very long, the fabric gathering against his wrists until he can tug the dress away from her entirely. ]

[ there's a moment in the back of her mind where she worries he might do just that - pull away from her, stop this thing before it can start, and honestly.. she almost wishes he would. it would hurt, surely, and extinguish the small, lingering flame buried deep in her heart that hopes that he might have loved her, that foolish, idiot girl that still lives on in her mind that pines for what she thought she had, for what she lost, for what she never had.

but he doesn't stop her. he surges back just as hard, his hands roaming, snagging at her damp clothing, his kiss pressing deeper, harder, matching her ferocity in a way she'd never felt from him before. but then, of course she hadn't. he'd always been sweet with her, gentle, keeping her hooked so thoroughly that she had never doubted how much he wanted her, how fond he was.

this is what they are now. even this much still lances the boil on her heart, at least a little bit, spilling some of the ichor that has infected her these long, lonely years. perhaps they are harming as much as they are healing but nevertheless, she cannot stop. her dress is tossed aside in a heap, his shirt soon after, and she's at him again, endlessly, incessantly, her nails scraping over skin and scars, her kisses ferocious, her hips grinding hard, while the storm above them rages on. ]

[ He's never felt like this before, anger and frustration and desire and deep, deep sorrow all surging in his blood in equal measure. It's difficult to say just where his feelings are coming from, whether it's from how lonely he's been in this dark desolate land, or how unfair it all is, that he can't just share his heart with her as he once did, though there is nothing he would rather do. Of course, that's all his fault. He made them this way. He destroyed the future the might have had together.

Where would they be now, if he hadn't said those things? Would they be married now? Have children? Fighting through this dark world side by side, instead of grasping for what once was with such ferocious desperation?

Of course, those thoughts fade as they tear away the rest of their clothing and bear their need to one another, and then dizzying sensation is all that fills his mind. He's missed this so acutely. Her touch, her kiss, unforgiving as they may be, the way it feels to be within her, a part of her. It overwhelms and still she asks for more, and so he gives. He gives until he has nothing, until he is nothing.

There are still walls between them, but in the aftermath, he forgets them. As she slumps against him, his anger is spent, leaving only cleaned wounds behind. He curls near, his kiss tender against her collarbone, his words even more so, quiet and strained by the sound of tears. ]

You....never stopped...meaning everything to me.

[ there's no denying that it feels good, that once they finish she is deeply satisfied right down to the marrow of her bones, a pressure relieved that she'd not realized she had been nursing. she drops down hard beside him, breathing quickly, her eyes closed as she absorbs the sound of the rain, the rolling aftershocks of pleasure, the scent of sex and skin filling this small space.

and then he's curling up close to her, pressing kisses to her collar, sweet and tender, and her stomach turns. it isn't entirely his fault. alisaie has long since forgotten how to be soft, how to be warm and tender, how to allow herself to feel anything that has not helped her to survive. even were he a perfect stranger, like as not the feeling of being cuddled up to would urge her to flee.

of course, that it is him only compounds things further.

a hard exhale, and alisaie turns from him, dislodging their bodies and rolling onto her back, staring hard at the dim roof of the tent as she catches her breath, her voice curt, its edge hard. ]

Please. There's no need.

[ She pulls away from him, grounding him back in reality, drawing him away from the sweet euphoria that clings to his body. He hasn't been with someone like this since that last time they were together, and he hadn't thought anything about pulling her near in the afterglow. But of course she.... wouldn't want that. Not from him. She sees his sweet attentions as a lie.

His heart settles and sinks in his chest, a wrongness tightening its hold around him. Is that,.. really the end of it? A few moments of pure, uncomplicated pleasure, and nothing else?

He doesn't reach for her again, but he does turn to look at her, to make out her features in the darkness. ]

Yes, there is. For me, there is.

[ He will ever had a need to tell her how important she is to him, how much he cares for her, for that time he could have told her and did not. ]

Edited 2018-10-03 01:13 (UTC)

[ he's been relatively good about leaving well enough alone for the past couple of days, but of course now he presses further. alisaie can feel her jaw tightening, one hand rising to rub at the tense space between her eyes. maybe this was a mistake.

no, it was definitely a mistake. it was impulsive and foolish and for all it might have felt good in the moment to release that pressure, she's paying for it now. ]

How nice for you. I need not hear it.

Don't you?

[ But his desire to even have this conversation deflates as she flat-out refuses to have it. How will he ever prove himself to her if she won't even talk to him? Maybe that's just it. She won't even open her heart up to him that much. Won't even entertain the idea that there is something worth salvaging between them, and maybe there isn't.

Maybe theirs is a love long dead, ground out by his own fear and stupidity. But if that's true...

If that's true, why did she bring him in here? Him, instead of some other stranger she met on the road? Surely, if all she wanted was a sweet release, she could find someone willing to please her. Someone...who doesn't have a complicated history with her.

He exhales, low and quiet, the pitter-patter of the rain drowning out the sound of it. ]

J-just...never mind.

[ He turns away from her, though only so he can wipe away the tears at his eyes without making it so obvious. ]

[ he turns from her, and none too soon for she is also turning from him, ending the conversation physically as well as verbally.

though alisaie does not cry. she cannot remember the last time she allowed herself to, certainly not in years. her pain is compressed, pushed down into an angry little ball in her heart that she holds within her. it grows heavier by the day, but she grows stronger still in order to carry it.

still, this was a setback. it felt satisfying to make him feel as she had felt, used and discarded, but only in the moment. it could not cure her bitter heart, or rid her of the weight inside of her - but tomorrow they will reach hammerhead, and she will need not think on it again. for now, she will find what sleep she can, distracted though she is by the scent of his skin and the taste of his mouth clinging still all over her body. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only