[ And I'd probably lose my nerve and scold you for getting my clothes wet. Probably... not likely, at this point. She shrugged the blouse away, using her cane to stand back up, away from those hands, and let loose the waist ties of the simple house pants she was wearing, allowing them to simply fall away, but by bit, a thumb hooking into the hem of the panties beneath.
Nothing she was wearing was, well. MEANT to be sexy. It was all very simple and plain. House clothes for someone who couldn't go out much. But Fang's words, the way her eyes fixated on her, made her feel like she was a super model.
The show was over after a few more moments, though, and she set her cane aside, having faith she could crawl into the tub on top of Fang easily enough. ]
[The clothes never needed to be sexy. Fang's focus was always on Chariot herself. What she was wearing... never felt important.]
[Her crooked smirk spread into a satisfied smile as she watched. The transition was easy, at least, offering steady and supporting hands where needed. The tub was a little bit of a cramped fit for the two of them, water spilling out, since Fang was on the taller side and Chariot not much shorter.]
[Fang sighed happily, her hands immediately starting a slow glide over her Bonded's back. ]
If you're not gonna say anything, you should at least do the decent thing and shut me up.
[ In truth, she'd clammed up mostly because her nerves were a little bit strung up. Not the sort of barbed worry that Fang would fear otherwise that came with Chariot's anxiety, but just... the lack of trust in herself to not say something silly or foolish. It wasn't like she was trying to play coy! But...
Well. Fang had a good idea, either way. Settling in, straddling her bonded, she leaned in to do just that, shutting up Fang with a press of her lips to hers, humming into the embrace, letting herself soak in the moment, the warmth of her lover, and all of those wonderful feelings that prickled between them...
[She couldn't ask for more, in this moment. The slow movement of lips and the feel of Chariot's skin, the warm love in the Bond... Fang loved this clumsy woman and her endless patience. She hummed back into the kiss, lazily nipping at her bottom lip, one finger idly tracing the line of Chariot's spine.]
[ It was tremendous... just how much this warmth, this closeness had come to mean to her. Being in Fang's embrace, feeling her lips, the strength within her, the soul that reflected so much of her own 'shine' back that she couldn't help but recognize it.
She could argue with her worst self back and forth all day about whether or not she deserved any of this, whether or not this love could be hers, something built by them both even if the seed had been based in projected familiarity... But when she was actually with Fang, the argument felt so muted and distant... ]
I love you... [ She whispered between those lazy kisses, settling in against Fang's shoulder eventually. It'd probably be a bad idea to fall asleep in the tub, huh? ]
[Fang could believe it, sometimes, this level of bliss, but the Bond left no room for doubt. Their link left absolutely no room for doubt that this was nothing but love, no doubt for the raw sincerity of it. Like this, Fang could forget every ache in her body and soul alike.]
[An arm cradled Chariot as she folded against her shoulder, and Fang's forehead dropped softly against the Witch's crown in an fond bunt, echoing her words silently in their connected souls.]
[And made the mistake of caressing her other hand down Chariot's side, relishing in the feel of her skin until Fang's hand faltered at her knee. She tried to smooth that stutter out quickly tracing circles with her hand, but that same Bond that let them communicate so purely wouldn't allow her to hide the sudden burr in her heart.]
[ Right. That made... sense. Too much sense. The reflective nature of the Bond had its downsides, and that reaction fed back into itself, and Chariot felt in her chest the very same pain Fang did, at any reminder of what had happened. The scar there... it was never going away. They'd have to learn to cope with its existence... ]
It's okay...
[ She wasn't certain what, exactly, she was saying that for. To validate Fang's feelings? Her own? Did it ultimately matter? ]
[She sucked in a deep breath, Chariot's reassurance washing over her. She exhaled. Breathed again, just sort of holding that burr there as its spines reached out to sting both of them.]
[That scar was never going away. It stood as a permanent testament to what they endured, same as the warped flesh ringing Fang's wrists and neck. Kaede's anger stood out in her mind again as her freshly healed wounds throbbed and that guilt began to well again.]
[Another breath. The warmth of the water, the warmth of Chariot stood out, too, accepting and patient and loving. Hesitantly, Fang's hand slid lower to her marred leg to settle on its contours.]
[Fang had to learn to live with this. She couldn't go on drowning in it or hiding from it. Something in the bitter events of this evening had reignited the embers in her heart, but they were still weak. Fragile, like the broken glass her soul was made of. They couldn't yet fight off the torrent of guilt.]
[But maybe Chariot's warmth was enough to shelter it. One more breath, while Fang's fingers gingerly traced her lover's injury under the water. She turned her face into Chariot's hair, murmuring while her other arm curled her Bonded tighter to her.]
Give me a minute? Please.
[Fang had to do this. She couldn't keep living at this demon's mercy.]
[ She wish she could say she felt more than the apprehension and tethers of the bond that held their mutual trauma together. And what she felt was profound. But the more Fang's fingertips brushed over the re-patched flesh... she realized just how little she could physically feel of it.
It was so strange, as if she were in a stranger's body, feeling the impact of something far away, and faint, and yet she knew, she knew, it was Fang's hands. Her heart was there, in those fingertips, baring itself naked against that trauma, chained to that wound and trying to turn the iron links into flowered wreathes... ]
Take your time...
[ She wanted to feel it. She could feel her everywhere else. She could feel her love and warmth everywhere else but the nerves along her scar were just... gone. She'd never get to know that touch again. She never realized she had to mourn it until that very moment.
[Fang released that burr. Her welling guilt gorged itself on Chariot's grief—what brought that on?—as it began flowing through Fang. Her hand never stopped moving—did she do something else wrong?—along her leg, feeling every inch of the injury, imprinting it in her mind. If that horrible memory was going to haunt her, its graphic sound always waiting beyond the edge of her hearing at the smallest prompt, then Fang was going to damn well know the rest of it, too. The wound's sight, the wound's touch. It's a gruesome embrace of sorts, not permitting herself to turn away from Chariot's scarring in any way, determined to know and face it wholly.]
[It's suffocating, that guilt and regret. But that was always the point, wasn't it? Allowing it to course through her without succumbing or struggling was one of the most difficult things Fang's ever done. To endure it, like standing chest deep in an frigid river, challenging the current without panic. Fang's exhales began to rumble under their shared pain and whatever Chariot was mourning, a dirge to the ugliness of healing.]
[Fang felt like buckling under that torrent, unprepared for her lover's own surge of heartache—Fang should've brushed this off—but also felt strangely emboldened by it. She couldn't fold to this. Not to the guilt, not to the nightmares. That tragedy might have scarred her—scarred both of them—but it was irreversibly, irrevocably, part of her now. A simple and blunt truth, survival written on her skin.]
[She opened her eyes, turning her head enough to stare into the water, idly watching her hand trace repeatedly over Chariot's scars. Her own gruesome brand stood out in compliment on her wrist, like a mismatched set.]
Scars, [Fang murmured after a moment, eyes still tracing the movements of her own hand. She still hurt, and the guilt was still running its course, but those determined embers in her heart stoked a little higher.] It's just another scar. It's proof we lived.
[Chariot's mangled foot was just another scar, if one infinitely more severe than any of Fang's own. Fang accepted each and every one of her own marks as part of herself. She wore them without shame.]
[She could come to accept Chariot's scar into herself, too.]
The words echo with her. They fill the space between what she could physically feel in that moment and what she felt she should have been able to. It wedged in-between the strangeness and the pain, found its place there, expanded outward, blanketing those mental wounds as well.
They had lived. They were still together. They still had so much faith in one another, so much love and cherishment. What was left of her foot, the scars that ran up to her knee, all of it was something left behind in a hope that it would twist that love into something crueler, something resentful and screaming.
... It hadn't. It was proof they'd lived. ]
Yeah... [ She wished she could say something stronger. ]
It's just... it feels so strange. The nerves are almost all dead, from my calf down to my foot. I can feel you touching it, but not... feel it... I guess I wasn't ready for how that would process, to me...
[Her fingers shifted to explore a different part of her leg. Almost all dead... Maybe, with determination, one day Fang might find one spot that could still feel in full.]
[She presses her lips to Chariot's forehead.] I'm sorry. [This time, the words were a little different. They shared her heartache in the Bond, and even though Fang was trying to let her guilt just be instead of suppressing it, this apology could've been as much condolence for loss as admission of guilt.]
Process it long as you need. Never know what'll happen down the line. The body knits back together pretty quick, but it takes a long time to really heal.
Anything feel... more, than anything else? A spot, or the water? The heat?
I can feel... the heat of the water. I can feel warmth seep in, and pressure from your touch.
[ She was a little surprised... as she described it, she realized how much she was starting to feel more comfortable she started to grow, slowly, bit by bit, with the lack of sensation, and how alien it all felt. ]
[Fang experimentally applied a little more pressure to her fingertips as they continued to trace the injury, her hand making its way towards the ankle.]
It doesn't hurt, no... [ That much she felt a more pressing need to assure Fang of. She flinched again when her hand got to the ankle joint but... didn't jerk away. ]
It's just... strange. It's hard to describe what it's like to know you're being touched, but to not feel it directly.
[ Her foot was where the scarring was at its worse. Her skin had torn completely there, after all, and only through Mio's efforts had they been able to do some grafts with magic. But the shape was clearly different now, too, oblong and crooked. It's why she'd need the cane even after her healing was complete... she'd never have her original gait again. ]
[Her hand stalled at that junction of ankle and foot, letting up on the slight pressure. Fang sucked in a steadying breath, her eyes fluttering shut and that heartache swelling anew. It was her turn to mourn; for one so clumsy, Chariot had been so light on her feet. No matter how often she was told it wasn't her fault, no matter if Fang learned to embrace that, she would irreversibly be part of this injury.]
[Her hand passed on. Fang's breathing became deliberately steady, trying to neither fight nor stifle the incoming emotions, just... experiencing them. Fang forced her eyes open to watch as her hand traced the new contours of Chariot's foot. Her other hand, still cradling Chariot against her shoulder, started idly rubbing circles against her skin. Fang would learn to live with this without flinching away.]
[ That ripple within the Bond... It shined light on something Chariot had missed before, why Fang was doing this at all. It wasn't just curious fascination with the state of Chariot's leg, or what she felt, but instead... ]
Yes... [ She whispered, shifting in to press light kisses along Fang's jaw, encouraging her, giving her affection and comfort, to keep going into that darkness, and to know Chariot was there with her to experience it.
She would learn... they both would. It was part of her now, but that didn't mean she had to be ashamed of it. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Nothing she was wearing was, well. MEANT to be sexy. It was all very simple and plain. House clothes for someone who couldn't go out much. But Fang's words, the way her eyes fixated on her, made her feel like she was a super model.
The show was over after a few more moments, though, and she set her cane aside, having faith she could crawl into the tub on top of Fang easily enough. ]
no subject
[Her crooked smirk spread into a satisfied smile as she watched. The transition was easy, at least, offering steady and supporting hands where needed. The tub was a little bit of a cramped fit for the two of them, water spilling out, since Fang was on the taller side and Chariot not much shorter.]
[Fang sighed happily, her hands immediately starting a slow glide over her Bonded's back. ]
If you're not gonna say anything, you should at least do the decent thing and shut me up.
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Well. Fang had a good idea, either way. Settling in, straddling her bonded, she leaned in to do just that, shutting up Fang with a press of her lips to hers, humming into the embrace, letting herself soak in the moment, the warmth of her lover, and all of those wonderful feelings that prickled between them...
The water could spill out. She didn't care. ]
no subject
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She could argue with her worst self back and forth all day about whether or not she deserved any of this, whether or not this love could be hers, something built by them both even if the seed had been based in projected familiarity... But when she was actually with Fang, the argument felt so muted and distant... ]
I love you... [ She whispered between those lazy kisses, settling in against Fang's shoulder eventually. It'd probably be a bad idea to fall asleep in the tub, huh? ]
no subject
[An arm cradled Chariot as she folded against her shoulder, and Fang's forehead dropped softly against the Witch's crown in an fond bunt, echoing her words silently in their connected souls.]
[And made the mistake of caressing her other hand down Chariot's side, relishing in the feel of her skin until Fang's hand faltered at her knee. She tried to smooth that stutter out quickly tracing circles with her hand, but that same Bond that let them communicate so purely wouldn't allow her to hide the sudden burr in her heart.]
no subject
[ Right. That made... sense. Too much sense. The reflective nature of the Bond had its downsides, and that reaction fed back into itself, and Chariot felt in her chest the very same pain Fang did, at any reminder of what had happened. The scar there... it was never going away. They'd have to learn to cope with its existence... ]
It's okay...
[ She wasn't certain what, exactly, she was saying that for. To validate Fang's feelings? Her own? Did it ultimately matter? ]
no subject
[That scar was never going away. It stood as a permanent testament to what they endured, same as the warped flesh ringing Fang's wrists and neck. Kaede's anger stood out in her mind again as her freshly healed wounds throbbed and that guilt began to well again.]
[Another breath. The warmth of the water, the warmth of Chariot stood out, too, accepting and patient and loving. Hesitantly, Fang's hand slid lower to her marred leg to settle on its contours.]
[Fang had to learn to live with this. She couldn't go on drowning in it or hiding from it. Something in the bitter events of this evening had reignited the embers in her heart, but they were still weak. Fragile, like the broken glass her soul was made of. They couldn't yet fight off the torrent of guilt.]
[But maybe Chariot's warmth was enough to shelter it. One more breath, while Fang's fingers gingerly traced her lover's injury under the water. She turned her face into Chariot's hair, murmuring while her other arm curled her Bonded tighter to her.]
Give me a minute? Please.
[Fang had to do this. She couldn't keep living at this demon's mercy.]
no subject
It was so strange, as if she were in a stranger's body, feeling the impact of something far away, and faint, and yet she knew, she knew, it was Fang's hands. Her heart was there, in those fingertips, baring itself naked against that trauma, chained to that wound and trying to turn the iron links into flowered wreathes... ]
Take your time...
[ She wanted to feel it. She could feel her everywhere else. She could feel her love and warmth everywhere else but the nerves along her scar were just... gone. She'd never get to know that touch again. She never realized she had to mourn it until that very moment.
And again, she felt herself crying. ]
no subject
[It's suffocating, that guilt and regret. But that was always the point, wasn't it? Allowing it to course through her without succumbing or struggling was one of the most difficult things Fang's ever done. To endure it, like standing chest deep in an frigid river, challenging the current without panic. Fang's exhales began to rumble under their shared pain and whatever Chariot was mourning, a dirge to the ugliness of healing.]
[Fang felt like buckling under that torrent, unprepared for her lover's own surge of heartache—Fang should've brushed this off—but also felt strangely emboldened by it. She couldn't fold to this. Not to the guilt, not to the nightmares. That tragedy might have scarred her—scarred both of them—but it was irreversibly, irrevocably, part of her now. A simple and blunt truth, survival written on her skin.]
[She opened her eyes, turning her head enough to stare into the water, idly watching her hand trace repeatedly over Chariot's scars. Her own gruesome brand stood out in compliment on her wrist, like a mismatched set.]
Scars, [Fang murmured after a moment, eyes still tracing the movements of her own hand. She still hurt, and the guilt was still running its course, but those determined embers in her heart stoked a little higher.] It's just another scar. It's proof we lived.
[Chariot's mangled foot was just another scar, if one infinitely more severe than any of Fang's own. Fang accepted each and every one of her own marks as part of herself. She wore them without shame.]
[She could come to accept Chariot's scar into herself, too.]
no subject
The words echo with her. They fill the space between what she could physically feel in that moment and what she felt she should have been able to. It wedged in-between the strangeness and the pain, found its place there, expanded outward, blanketing those mental wounds as well.
They had lived. They were still together. They still had so much faith in one another, so much love and cherishment. What was left of her foot, the scars that ran up to her knee, all of it was something left behind in a hope that it would twist that love into something crueler, something resentful and screaming.
... It hadn't. It was proof they'd lived. ]
Yeah... [ She wished she could say something stronger. ]
It's just... it feels so strange. The nerves are almost all dead, from my calf down to my foot. I can feel you touching it, but not... feel it... I guess I wasn't ready for how that would process, to me...
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[She presses her lips to Chariot's forehead.] I'm sorry. [This time, the words were a little different. They shared her heartache in the Bond, and even though Fang was trying to let her guilt just be instead of suppressing it, this apology could've been as much condolence for loss as admission of guilt.]
Process it long as you need. Never know what'll happen down the line. The body knits back together pretty quick, but it takes a long time to really heal.
Anything feel... more, than anything else? A spot, or the water? The heat?
no subject
[ She was a little surprised... as she described it, she realized how much she was starting to feel more comfortable she started to grow, slowly, bit by bit, with the lack of sensation, and how alien it all felt. ]
no subject
Any of it hurt? Feel nice?
no subject
It's just... strange. It's hard to describe what it's like to know you're being touched, but to not feel it directly.
[ Her foot was where the scarring was at its worse. Her skin had torn completely there, after all, and only through Mio's efforts had they been able to do some grafts with magic. But the shape was clearly different now, too, oblong and crooked. It's why she'd need the cane even after her healing was complete... she'd never have her original gait again. ]
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[Her hand stalled at that junction of ankle and foot, letting up on the slight pressure. Fang sucked in a steadying breath, her eyes fluttering shut and that heartache swelling anew. It was her turn to mourn; for one so clumsy, Chariot had been so light on her feet. No matter how often she was told it wasn't her fault, no matter if Fang learned to embrace that, she would irreversibly be part of this injury.]
[Her hand passed on. Fang's breathing became deliberately steady, trying to neither fight nor stifle the incoming emotions, just... experiencing them. Fang forced her eyes open to watch as her hand traced the new contours of Chariot's foot. Her other hand, still cradling Chariot against her shoulder, started idly rubbing circles against her skin. Fang would learn to live with this without flinching away.]
no subject
Yes... [ She whispered, shifting in to press light kisses along Fang's jaw, encouraging her, giving her affection and comfort, to keep going into that darkness, and to know Chariot was there with her to experience it.
She would learn... they both would. It was part of her now, but that didn't mean she had to be ashamed of it. ]