eldorne_girl | (no subject)

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(no subject)

[George carries her up, up the stairs, up to his room, all the while cradling her like she was something precious, something fragile...

Something broken.]

[the door is shut, but not locked (a good thing, always a good thing, locks mean you can't get out can't escape...) and when the lanky thief places her on the bed, Delia just curls up into a huddle of thick hair and silken skirts; curls up, and doesn't stop crying.]

[not for a long time]

[but sooner or later she has to stop and, slowly, she does - the sobbing becomes weeping which becomes a sniff and a hiccup here and there. But the whole time, she doesn't move, just stares out with reddened green eyes not really seeing anything. At last, though, she draws in a shaky breath and whispers,]

I'm a wreck, aren't I?

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He's been sitting on the edge of the bed - his bed, close enough so she's aware she's not alone, but not quite touching. He murmurs to her - not even sure himself what he's saying - soothing, nonsense words one might whisper to a small child who has fallen down and scrapped their knee.

He's not sure if its helping at all. Not even sure if she's even aware of his presence anymore..

So he waits.

Finally her sobbing and shaking cease and he pulls out a clean handkerchief and offers it to her.

Her question pains him and he considers how to reply.

"...perhaps, just a little bit." he replies softly.

[she sniffs, slowly sitting up and rubbing her eyes. She accepts the handkerchief from him with wan, grateful little smile, and then wipes her face.]

Well. To be expected, I guess.

He smiles. "What a pair we make, the two of us.."

[Both of us loving those who don't want us.... he thinks to himself.]

You weren't sobbing in public.

True.

"No. But I came damn near close.."

Closer than he's been willing to admit to anyone.

He remembers the howl of animal misery that welled up inside him - how he forced it down and away, with all the will he possessed. How he waited until he was safely alone before succumbing to his grief.

"Everyone has moments of weakness Delia. You're mortal, not made of stone.."

No, no I am not. Would be easier, if I were...I watched Roger get killed. The first time. And I didn't cry. I barely blinked. Of course, it was different when I got to my rooms, but...I didn't...

"Go to pieces?" he finishes.

He takes her hand and squeezes it gently.

Aye. That.

[she squeezes back - her hand is so small, compared to his. Small and delicate, with fragile fingers. Hard to believe, really, that that hand helped nearly bring down Jonathan's barely-started reign]

She has such small hands - the hands of a lady, soft and delicate.

Like the rest of her.

Very different from.. no - best he not follow that train of thought. He won't go there.

He chides himself for his own foolishness.

"Well, I for one don't think less of you for it.."

[a little smile]

Thank you, George.

"You're welcome."

[she blows her nose, and sniffs again.]

He sits in silence for a bit, then asks,

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Delia?"

[Because right now, there isn't much he wouldn't do..]

Um. I don't know. [she rubs one of her bright-green eyes]

I probably should get back to Josie, but I don't want to move at the moment.

He bites his lip.

"You're welcome to stay here as long as you like." he winces at how that sounds - because really he doesn't mean it to sound.. suggestive - but doesn't rescind it.

"This can be your safe haven, if need be.."

Ah, safe haven...I think there is no such thing. Everyone wants something. I don't mind.

[a wry smile]

You're not unstable like Josie is.

"Or sometimes an offer is just that. An offer, with no strings or demands attached.." he says, meeting her gaze.

".. And I'll take that last bit as a compliment."

[she doesn't look as if she quite believes that.]

Well. I've never heard of you going after anyone with an ax, have you?

He snorts. "No, I can safely say I've not done that.."

Lovely, dearest.

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