exsiliumlogs | i have this dream where i cut out my tongue

Entry tags:

i have this dream where i cut out my tongue

Date & Time: July 07th, late afternoon.
Location: Morgana's apartment.
Characters: A high priestess (

scinlae) and a soldier (

sharpe).
Summary: Pretty much Morgana and Sharpe continue being the giant failures at everything that they are.
Warnings: None at the moment, will change if needed.

[ The apartment is empty, empty and silent. The silent company of Cat and her direwolf vanished since the newest batch of arrivals. Something she had expected to happen one day, yet still carried a sharp sting.

She hates this- the waiting, the gaps of silence. When there is nothing for her to do but sit with her thoughts. Thoughts that twist and turn and leave her as confused as she was before. When she once loathed company now she craves it, where she once thought of Gwen as enemy now she embraces her like a treasured friend.

What would Morgause say if she could see her now? She scarified herself for aid her, to help her put an end to her enemies. Was it all in vain?

A noise of frustration and Morgana lashes out, swinging a hand wildly at a vase of flowers. Eyes burning gold and it flies into the wall, shattering loudly; water, flowers, and broken pieces of the light blue vase falling to the floor in a heap.

What is she now? Who is she now? ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ He knows the arrivals are coming, but they can wait right at this moment. There's someone more important for him to find; someone who is alone of her world, and of those who come, there is likely to be more enemies than friends.

So Sharpe heads out to look for Morgana, worry a knot at the back of his mind. He tugs at it gently, constantly, going to the cafe where they usually meet before he curses himself and practically springs towards her apartment, his rifle beating its usual rhythm on his thigh and calves. He ignores it; ignores too the looks that the Exiles now give him, narrowed eyes and pursed lips, the look of those who hate soldiers because they think they have brought the war to their doorstep. That the soldiers are responsible, instead of the Generals and Emperors sitting in their high chairs far away.

(Truth to be told, he's rather surprised it had taken so long for soldiers to be hated.)

When he comes to her door, he stays there for a couple of minutes. He doesn't know how she will react to seeing him; to having anyone near here. Maybe Cat will be there- but he wishes the girl isn't, because he wishes to talk to Morgana, and only Morgana.

Finally, he raises his fist and knock, just in time to hear the shattering of glass. Eyes widening, Sharpe nearly slams the door down with how hard he hammers against it. ]

Milady?!

[ She does not expect him, she does not expect anyone. So when he slams his fist against the door she jump from her spot on the couch, fumbling for a knife or her sword so far away or something.

Enemy, she thinks, enemy. Arm yourself, kill it.

But then she hears the voice and stops, a thrum of power dissipating from the tips of her fingers. ]

Sharpe?

[ How long had it been? She does not remember. The chaos of sickness and bombs and Gwen's insistence on staying made her lose her track of time. She scrambles for the door, pausing only to smooth herself down.

Morgana abhors weakness, she abhors being seen as weak, her current disheveled look simply won't do.

She does not leave him waiting for long, opening the door amidst a bang. ]

Stop, I am alright.

Edited 2013-07-08 13:06 (UTC)

[ Her voice calms him immediately, and Sharpe rubs a hand over his eyes and face, embarrassed. Christ, he's done a great job there, jumping like that. He probably scared her, though he knows by now that she's not easily made afraid.

But there's a vulnerability in Morgana that makes him want to protect her, and he's helpless against that need. When she opens the door, his eyes narrow, taking in every inch of her as much as he can. ]

Apologies, Lady Morgana. The sound shocked me. [ Pause. ] May I come in?

[ What timing that he appears before her when she wants company of some sort.

Fingers curl around the door tightly and she inhales. There is genuine concern in his eyes, she is still not used to it, part of her still thinks it is false- but that voice fades with each passing day.

No, you can't. His presence only serves to confuse and frustrate, but the silence is smothering and she-

She nods and opens the door further, granting him access. ]

You may.

[ For the first time in his life, he has good timing. Or something of that sort.

Sharpe steps inside the door, his eyes immediately drawn to the shattered porcelain. He turns suddenly, looking at Morgana from top to bottom, trying to see if she's injured. ]

Are you- [ he pauses; the question always sounds awkward- ] are you quite alright, milady?

[ She closes the door quickly, casting a sparing glance at the broken vase before she walks ahead of him. Gwen will be mad, she had brought those flowers only recently. ]

I am... [ Fine? Well? Alright? She does not know, she did not know before he arrived and she certainly does not know now. ] I am not injured.

[ Not quite an answer. ]

Why are you here, Sharpe?

[ He knows an evasion when he hears one, but he looks at the tiny lines at the side of her lips and remembers her chilliness when he pries, and he lets his arms drop back to his side. ]

Aye. [ A pause, and he ducks his head, suddenly shy at the question. ]

I'm- [ he licks his lips ] I was thinking that I've seen those from yer world, milady, and they don't seem too kind to you. [ His eyes flicker up before he focuses on the broken glass again. ] The new arrivals come today, and I was...

[ He shrugs, helpless. ]

Worried.

[ She finishes his sentence for him, turning to watch his face. It is strange to her, still so very strange, that he appears to care- that he still cares after so long. She both fears it and relishes in it. ]

You shouldn't. [ But you will anyway. ] I watched some of the arrivals, none from my world have come so far.

[ A need to move clings to her and she shifts her weight, pacing a few steps to the right before stopping. ]

Tell me true, do you care for me?

[ Does he truly care for her? How can she ask that, after so long? Sharpe stares at her for a long moment- but he thinks he understands. He left her for such a long time, and though he came back, he sees it in her eyes that she's far too used to betrayal than loyalty.

"Wellington's loyal mongrel," he's been called, in the officers' mess. "Wellington's personal demon." He knows what it means. But Sharpe has never been ashamed of his loyal nature. It takes a lot for his respect to be won, much less any form of loyalty, but once it has been...

He reaches out, stumbling forward before he grasps her small hands, taking them to his own. They feel cold to him, and his thumbs stroke the knuckles, gently. ]

I do, milady. [ Softly, and he puts his heart in his eyes, lets his care for her shine through. (Not that he has ever been hiding it.) ] Morgana, I... [ I want to kiss you, he thinks, but he knows that to do so will be a mistake, because men are bastards and he knows he's one too, and not only because of his birth. ]

I care for you greatly, [ he says instead. ]

[ It is confusion that shines in her eyes at his answer, confusion that decorates the lines of her face- not relief or anger, just confusion. How could he care for her? He knows next to nothing of the woman she is, he cares only for a facade she presented to him, one that has been crumbling since the beginning. More and more of the conquering queen bleeds through, while the beloved lady claws her way back to the surface.

So how? Why?

You should have banished him from your side when you had the chance. ]

Would you care for a lie?

[ The words come out before she has the chance to catch them and she frowns, regretting every letter. She pulls her hands from his and she turns from her, putting a few paces of space between them. ]

Your heart will get you killed one day, better to cut it out and set it afire.

[ A lie, Morgana says, and Sharpe might have a certain blindness when it comes to women, but he's not stupid. Especially not after Jane. He sees the conquering Queen, and he thinks that she doesn't need his protection at all. Yet that's not just Morgana in this place; many of the women are warriors, and Sharpe is slowly learning.

She tells him that she might be a lie, but Sharpe looks at the confusion in her eyes and finds it genuine. It might be foolish of him, but he's satisfied with that. ]

My heart has done worse than got me killed. [ He quirks his lips up. ] It got me married ta a woman who didn't want me, wanted something else. She stole all me money and ran away with a lordling who can't fight a battle ta save his damned life if he had to. [ He snorts, shaking his head. ] And I can't even divorce her 'cause she spent all that damned money.

She lied ta me, you see. Played me like a fiddle, a damned fool. [ He walks towards her window, looking outwards, hand splayed against the glass. ] I know what it's like ta care fer a lie and ta be betrayed. [ Glancing at her through the corner of his eyes, Sharpe's gaze softened. ]

You told me, and that's kinder than Jane'd ever been. Me heart's a scarred thing, but I ain't going ta stop giving it ta whomever I wish. If I do, that'd be living a life without love, and I find that more cruel than getting hurt.

[ Sharpe might be a soldier, might be bitter and cynical about many things. But in his heart he's a romantic about love, and he refuses to be ashamed of it, no matter how many times his love for women have screwed him over. ]

Edited (random curly brackets why) 2013-07-13 15:37 (UTC)

[ Truth be told she thought her question, the admittance, would cause him to anger, to turn away from her. That is what most would do, they would take such a thing lightly, would they not?

But he does not, and Morgana only frowns. His sense has truly lost him, she thinks, it must if he would still care for a woman who had ever intention to use him as a shield. Who had every intention on throwing his life away to benefit her own. ]

It is safer. [ Her eyes narrow almost into a glare. ] No one can hurt you then, no one.

[ She had lived for a year with love for none other than Morgause. She turned her hear to stone and set those she once loved on paths that would have seen them all dead. ]

No one will be able to use you for their own ends, and betrayal will feel naught more than a prick.

[ And yet she has come to adore the little girl Cat, love her even, and Gwen-

Her heart wars with itself as much as her mind. ]

[ He turns around fully at her words, stepping in and taking her hands again, smiling crookedly. ]

What you said is me life in a nutshell, milady. [ Softly. ] I'm a soldier, and soldiers are nowt but tools. I don't have much love fer Britain, though I might fight in her name, and I sure as hell don't love me general though I'm loyal ta him.

[ He chuckles, self-deprecating, and shakes his head. ]

Yer honest ta me, milady. Yer not telling me lies 'bout how much you love me ta try ta get me to do what you wish ta, and that makes me care 'bout you even more. [ He rubs at his nose, a little. ]

I don't think there's anything possible that will make me stop caring 'bout you, and if you wish ta make use of me, then you only have ta ask.

[ She thinks she might scream at him, but she does not, she thinks she might banish him from her presence, but she does not. She simple stands there in conflict, hands curling into fists until her knuckles turn white. ]

Make use of you? [ In what ways, she wonders, in what ways. ]

You are stupid. [ Childish words she thinks, but they are the only words available to her. ]

[ Stupid? Those are the least words that have ever been thrown at him as an insult, and he thinks that no matter what Morgana says of herself, no matter what she might think of herself, she is obviously a kind woman, a sweet woman.

He chuckles under his breath, his thumbs stroking over her knuckles over and over, as if to soothe. ]

Aye, milady. That I've never denied being. [ His smile widens, self-deprecating at the edges. ] But I like ta think that I'm only stupid 'bout the important matters.

[ It does not soothe as intended, tension coils in her arms and back and she frowns. For the life of her she cannot understand his reasoning, why he still cares after everything, why he cares at all. From what she can tell he does not want anything from her, he has not made any such demand, yet here he stands thumbs brushing over her knuckles with a foolish smile on his face.

She hates it, she wishes he would react like she expected him to. To be the bastard he thinks himself. It would be so much simpler. ]

You are stupid about many matters, important and not. [ She shakes her head. ] Only a man with such a thing in his veins would to make use of him with no want in return.

[ He ducks her head at her words, half-embarrassed without being able to help being so. Squeezing her hands as gently as he can, he lets her go and rubs the back of his neck slightly. ]

I've said all that I can, milady. [ Softly. ] Whether you believe me or not, I'd just be repeating meself again if I say more.

[ He lowers his head and presses his hands to her knuckles, the barest brush of lips over skin. ]

But I'm at yer service, however you wish ta make use of me.

I don't. [ And yet she does at the same time. It makes as little sense to her as his caring for her does, grating in such a similar frustrating way. ]

But your words will remain, won't it?

[ He blinks, slightly confused by her words. But it doesn't really matter what she means in the end, because his reply would be the same: ]

This ain't a temporary offer, milady. [ He takes her hand again, lowering her head to press a soft kiss upon her knuckles. ] It holds fer as long as you wish it, as long as I'm here.

[ As much as she wishes her expression to be impassive, it is not, her face is raw with the emotions that run across it, her mask utterly useless to her now. ]

I hope you do not come to regret your offer and your caring.

[ Truly she does. ]

[ It will be too easy to dismiss her words, but Sharpe knows that this is her way of caring, and to dismiss it will be to be callous. So he doesn't, instead giving them the due consideration they deserve.

Gently, he reaches out and strokes her cheek, and Sharpe's smile is small and sheepish. ]

I hope the same, milady, but... it's a mite foolish, perhaps, but I don't think I would.

[ She flinches at the touch, jerking away out of instinct alone frown furrowing her brow once again. ]

You shouldn't... [ Touch, remain, there is much he should not do but does regardless. ] As you can see, I am quite well and in no danger.

[ Where she is going with this, she does not know. Words spill from her mouth without any real knowledge of their destination or purpose. ]

You have no reason to remain. [ She is not telling him to leave, not exactly, perhaps she is testing him, questioning him. ]

[ There are much less polite ways that people - women included - have used to chase him off. Morgana's words make him crack another smile, wry at the edges, and he chuckles softly. ]

Yer presence is enough reason, milady. [ I take my pleasure often in looking at you, he thinks to say, but changes his mind at the last moment. He knows how she would take that? In any case- ]

But I'd take me leave now, if you've no more need fer me. [ He'll have to go to look at the new arrivals. Just to reassure himself that Teresa and Pat and everyone else he hoped for are not here. ]

Wait.

[ She tells him to leave in kinder words and now she tells him to wait? She lets out of a frustrated noise, not at him but at herself, wishing she knew what was happening between her heart and mind. Suspicions and desires clash near violently and she thinks it will drive her mad.

A cautious step and her hand finds his arm, fingers tugging at the fabric. She intakes breath sharply, watching her hand move to his shoulder. Look up, look up. And she does, expression quite determined, before pressing a short kiss to his cheek. ]

[ When she comes close, Sharpe's heart leaps to his throat, as cliche as that must sound. (But he's not poet, so he'll make do.) He thinks that she's going to kiss him now, full on the lips- but when her lips, slightly rough but warm and sweet, presses against his cheek, his breath is taken away nonetheless.

Oh, he has kissed her hand plenty. But for her to return the kiss... Sharpe ducks his head down, staring downwards. And he cannot help but stare at her hands, small and white against the dark green of his jacket. He takes her wrists gently, suddenly, trying to make sure he doesn't lose his nerve. He keeps his eyes on hers as he brushes his lips against her knuckles. ]

G'day, milady, [ he blurts, and he's practically fleeing the room.

If he doesn't leave, he thinks he's going to kiss her, and perhaps even carry her to the bed. And he might be a bastard, but he has never been that sort. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

i have this dream where i cut out my tongue

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject