[wynonna hasn't slept really since she's been released from the dungeons, or even before that. sleep has never been something that comes easily to her, and lately it's been all the worse. the closest she usually comes to sleep is passing out after drinking too much. well, she slept well the night waverly came over, her sister's presence was always a soothing one, but she can't ask her to come sleep over all the time.
well, she probably could, but she won't. she's stubborn, that way.
but for now she's not thinking about any of that. she's not thinking of anything beyond the haze of relaxation and how he pulls her in closer instead of telling her to leave. her head lulls into the crook of the shoulder, and she playfully nips him there in response to his words.]
( his only response is a soft hum of agreement and anticipation, weighed on a tired exhale. he slips his arm further around her, instinctually pulling her in closer to his chest as she folds nearer to him. klaus lets his back settle onto the bed again, lets his eyes close and his mind spiral into a deep, lazing darkness that pulls him under.
a part of him considers, before succumbing to oblivion, whether she might want to leave in due time, but the larger part of him convinces the half-thoughts it doesn't matter. if she does, she will. for now he is all right with the comfort of another body next to his; with hers. he wants it.
[she curls up next to him, her head resting on her chest as he settles onto his back. vaguely somewhere she thinks she should get up and leave. it's what she would normally do -- but there was nothing normal about any of what just transpired, about what either one of them have been through since the riots, and maybe it's okay if she indulges herself a little, just this once.
she doesn't want to be alone, but it is more than just that. but she also doesn't have long to dwell on it before she finds herself pulled into the oblivion of sleep as well.
and she does sleep well. better than she has in a long time.]
( the night is dreamless. there are no nightmares hounding him, half-remembered and filled with ghosts and terrors he keeps to himself. he's warm. it's his first semi-lucid thought nearly touching the surface of consciousness. his limbs are heavy, weighing him down into the soft cloud beneath him.
his breath answers in a soft exhale; his head lolls to the side and he feels a silkiness beneath his untended beard. something tickles the tip of his nose. vaguely, he slowly understands why he is so warm and heavy — there's a woman curled against him. )
[there are no nightmares here either. no memories of torture or isolation. no hauntings of the people she couldn't save. she was peaceful for once, safe in his arms.
she's a light sleeper, however and when he begins to stir, so does she. she's equally surprised to find a warm body beneath hers. that's....different.
when their eyes eventually meet she gives a sheepish little wave. it's clear she has no idea what to do in this situation. she usually tries to avoid the morning after.[
( his arm, still draped around her, tightens to an embrace for a moment, his hand curling around her shoulder as breathes in an awakening breath. his neck cranes, sea-blue eyes half-open and blinking away sleep, and he just catches sight of her uncertain little wave.
the awkward gesture injects a measure of charmed amusement to his expression, his brows curving up and his lips turning in a hint of a smile.
she doesn't do this often. clearly. ) Hello, ( he greets in kind, seemingly at perfect ease. )
[well, at least one of them feels comfortable with the other. she just hasn't been in this situation a lot, she usually sneaks out before the morning after happens. but they had effectively tired one another out the night before, and she doesn't regret being able to actually sleep for once.
she also...has no idea what to say or ask next, and it probably shows.]
( it does show, and yet the longer she is out-of-sorts about it, the more klaus is delighted. his grip on her arm has loosened and now he smooths it down her side, curling his the backs of his fingers against her skin on the journey back. ) Better than usual, truth be told.
( he hums in agreement, and finding her not opposed to a little petting, he lifts his other hand to run down her arm, watching the trail of his fingertips to hers. his brow furrows as his eyes stop on the thin, lifted white scar on one of her fingers; he drags the touch over the ridge to her nail.
he's not spent enough time or attention to note the all the minute details of her body, but he believes he knows it well enough to recognize something new. )
[she tenses up a little when his touch brushes over the scar on her middle finger from where her finger was detached and reattached. Lucifer did that to a lot of her limbs, but didn't leave scars for all of them -- that one was left because of how often she uses her middle finger -- a constant reminder.
the worst of her scars are from the flaying at the bottom of her feet, but those are at least easier to hide.]
( he doesn't need the hyperawareness of his senses to recognize her sudden discomfort, nor much else to solve the equation. his gaze stays on the scar, the cold anger, terrible regret, and insidious guilt he feels building and being tucked away for some useful end. it's the regret and guilt of those emotions he finds most difficult to convert. they linger in ways he cannot always contend.
his brow smooths. he trails his touch back to draw the scar with his fingertip. ) What else do he do to you? ( his eyes seek her. the question is quiet, soft, and grave. he is not expectant, but he wants to know. he needs to. )
[and there it was, the questions she's been desperately trying to dodge ever since she got released from the dungeons. what happened inside of them. what lucifer did to her. she'd rather not talk about it. she'd rather push it down and act like it didn't happen but...that hasn't really been working great and she has a feeling he won't let her off the hook easily. ]
He kept removing fingers and toes and reattaching them. And he flayed my feet like he was that one asshole on Game of Thrones [lbr the only reason she knows what flaying is at all.]
But the worst part was he made it impossible to pass out or die. No matter how much it hurt, I couldn't escape.
[there was also some mental torture too but she doesn't really want to go into anymore detail than she already has.]
( she doesn't have to say. he can imagine what horrors she's been through, and the words she speaks are but a small piece of the nightmare. the rough outline. the main points. klaus knows what it is to be tortured. he knows what it is to be helpless and defeated, leagues more so than he is now.
he knows what it means to believe you've reached the brink of agony in every way a body and mind and soul can and not break. to stay whole, even if it feels as if you are scattered into a million pieces.
yet there's always just enough of you left to suffer more.
it's why he breathes out a short puff of air and turns his head away at her words. he can imagine, and he knows, and knowing some of what she survived twists him up inside in ways he is not prepared to confront. it hits him, again, as it settled with evident certainty in him last night: he cares about her.
there's nothing he can say. perhaps even less he can do.
even as he exhaled and looked away, his hand folded around hers.
he'll find a way. he knows he will, for there is no other option. when he looks back at her, it's with a brutal determination and promise he doesn't know he can truly keep — but one he intends to with all of his will. ) I am going to serve you his head on a platter. ( with feeling and weight, searching hers eyes, he adds, ) It won't happen again.
[willpower can be a hell of a thing, and at times the only thing keeping wynonna together during her session with lucifer, she wouldn't break. she refused to give him he satisfaction. but that doesn't mean she came out unscathed, that she isn't carrying scars both mentally and physically.
and yet the way he looks away in shame angers her more than anything else, much like it had when homelander had trouble looking at her when he visited her in the cells, after she was tortured.]
I don't blame you. Either one of you. I made my own choice to track down Peacemaker and get involved, and Lucifer wants you guys to feel bad about what happened to me, I imagine that's part of why he decided to do something worse to me -- beyond the obvious point that I don't have powers to take away.
[her own feelings and trauma feel heavy enough, she's not sure she can take their guilt on top of it. but her hand squeezes his tightly all the same.
her grey-blue eyes burn with a fury that she's had trouble igniting lately, but never truly went away.]
He kept trying to feed me this bullshit about how he didn't like torturing me, and it used to be much worse -- like I should be fucking grateful or something. He'll get what's coming to him. Corrupt jailers like him always do, in the end.
( it's not shame that has him averting his eyes; it's anger. klaus is under no miscomprehension of who and what the players are in this game; his only regret and shame is that he'd not the foresight to recognize lucifer had tools other than the obvious to use against him.
to use against them all. to make them suffer together.
it's an old hat: believing in his own invulnerability. it's a hard lesson he has learned and despite it costing his family and his life, apparently he needed another for it to stick. he sees the possible roads these insurrections will lead, and he must consider those risks. the inevitable sacrifices and if he is willing to make them. if they can be avoided; if contingencies can be made.
he's not ashamed. shame is useless. he's responsible. )
I don't want your forgiveness, ( he speaks plainly, candidly. ) I know what he meant to do, and I want him to pay for that as much as anything else. ( this is not just about her, for him. ) I won't lie to you and tell you I don't feel part of that responsibility — What I mean to say is I will not underestimate him again. ( his lips close; there's something bright and fearful in his eyes as he looks at her. something he won't and can't say. he won't underestimate how he feels about her. )
You're a fighter. That's why you made your choice. ( he knows it was her choice. he sees her fury. he believes in what she says. ) I fully expect you will be there in the end.
[she doesn't offer forgiveness because in her mind there is nothing to forgive -- they need to be smarter fighting back in the future, that they can all agree on, but she would never blame them for trying to take control of the situation, especially considering how mistreated and humiliated they all were in those cages.
she had been proud of them, honestly.]
I don't think any of us will underestimate him -- as much as he tries to act like he's a victim as much of the rest of us, he holds the power. We can't forget that.
[what goes unsaid, what someone more perspective might see in his eyes, goes over her head. maybe it's better it does.]
Of course I will be. Wouldn't miss it for the world.
[of course there are things to consider now, like waverly being here, but all the more reason to fight. her sister doesn't deserve to be here even if she does.]
( he's not blind to the fact that the undercurrent of what he says and the subtext of what he doesn't is lost on her. he looks down, but not away, his fingers tightening over hers. whether she's wont to admit it or not; to realize it or ignore it; or perhaps because the strength of her fondness is not that same, or doesn't mean as much — for now, it's best to leave it at that. smarter, for there are more important things to consider and very little room for affections not even he feels prepared to define, even in his own heart.
still, there's a piercing, unreserved calculation in his eyes when they return to hers.
because he knows: this stay is a "for now."
not because he particularly relishes the thought of coming to terms, but because it is an inevitable consequence of feeling.
just as all their plans and intentions are to overthrow the king of hell. ) Good. ( speaking of: ) Now if you have any suggestions for our next move... ( he prompts the question on a lilt, his tone light, because obviously none of them are playing at advantage after the last one. )
[wynonna cares about him more than she'd admit, but she also sees it as a potential liability. much as she might care about anyone here, her goal always has to be overthrowing lucifer and getting back home to break the curse. to ensure her daughter has a better future than she did. and she has to get waverly home. she doesn't belong here. no matter what she may feel or want, her family is always going to come first.
at least she knows klaus would understand that.
as for questions:]
Honestly? I think we should lay low for a bit, if we can help it. We're too on his radar right now.
[and none of them are really in fighting shape. sometimes the smartest move is to wait.]
Plus we can find other ways to fill our time....I seem to remember something about a shower.
( he does. he would understand that. he would honor it. were he in any other position; if he had a life to go back to... it would be his one purpose.
but he does not. what is ahead of him is merely earning his afterlife with elijah or the oblivion death might offer. he had been at peace with either.
truth be told, he agrees with her entirely. if lucifer's absence has gifted them anything, it's a much needed respite. he can think of worse activities to fill such time with. ) Do you? Perhaps you should remind me...
( he returns the kiss, but feigns uncertainty, dimpling as he peers up at her. ) Not quite... ( his palm smooths up her back. ) but getting there. Perhaps if you keep trying...
( he's still smiling as she kisses him; as he kisses her back, his arms encircling her close. not that he truly required any convincing, but she's wise to use her assets, and he's all too eagerly pressing her against him. he exhales somewhat victoriously against the deepening kiss, reaching to hold her head to his, fingers weaving into her soft, if somewhat tangled hair. he speaks only as they break for air. ) Please do give it your best shot.
[she knows he doesn't really need any convincing, but that doesn't make it not fun to pretend he does. after all, it's not like she doesn't enjoy it too, doesn't enjoy the way his arms encircle around her. she nips playfully at his lower lip.]
Well for one thing, as you can feel, my hair is a mess.
[the downside to long, wavy hair is after a night like they had last night, it is a mess of tangles and needs a good wash.]
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well, she probably could, but she won't. she's stubborn, that way.
but for now she's not thinking about any of that. she's not thinking of anything beyond the haze of relaxation and how he pulls her in closer instead of telling her to leave. her head lulls into the crook of the shoulder, and she playfully nips him there in response to his words.]
I look forward to seeing your argument.
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a part of him considers, before succumbing to oblivion, whether she might want to leave in due time, but the larger part of him convinces the half-thoughts it doesn't matter. if she does, she will. for now he is all right with the comfort of another body next to his; with hers. he wants it.
he sleeps soundly. )
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she doesn't want to be alone, but it is more than just that. but she also doesn't have long to dwell on it before she finds herself pulled into the oblivion of sleep as well.
and she does sleep well. better than she has in a long time.]
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his breath answers in a soft exhale; his head lolls to the side and he feels a silkiness beneath his untended beard. something tickles the tip of his nose. vaguely, he slowly understands why he is so warm and heavy — there's a woman curled against him. )
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she's a light sleeper, however and when he begins to stir, so does she. she's equally surprised to find a warm body beneath hers. that's....different.
when their eyes eventually meet she gives a sheepish little wave. it's clear she has no idea what to do in this situation. she usually tries to avoid the morning after.[
Hey
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the awkward gesture injects a measure of charmed amusement to his expression, his brows curving up and his lips turning in a hint of a smile.
she doesn't do this often. clearly. ) Hello, ( he greets in kind, seemingly at perfect ease. )
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she also...has no idea what to say or ask next, and it probably shows.]
Did you sleep well?
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And yourself?
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Better than I have in a while, honestly. Seems like we wore one another out.
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he's not spent enough time or attention to note the all the minute details of her body, but he believes he knows it well enough to recognize something new. )
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the worst of her scars are from the flaying at the bottom of her feet, but those are at least easier to hide.]
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his brow smooths. he trails his touch back to draw the scar with his fingertip. ) What else do he do to you? ( his eyes seek her. the question is quiet, soft, and grave. he is not expectant, but he wants to know. he needs to. )
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He kept removing fingers and toes and reattaching them. And he flayed my feet like he was that one asshole on Game of Thrones [lbr the only reason she knows what flaying is at all.]
But the worst part was he made it impossible to pass out or die. No matter how much it hurt, I couldn't escape.
[there was also some mental torture too but she doesn't really want to go into anymore detail than she already has.]
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he knows what it means to believe you've reached the brink of agony in every way a body and mind and soul can and not break. to stay whole, even if it feels as if you are scattered into a million pieces.
yet there's always just enough of you left to suffer more.
it's why he breathes out a short puff of air and turns his head away at her words. he can imagine, and he knows, and knowing some of what she survived twists him up inside in ways he is not prepared to confront. it hits him, again, as it settled with evident certainty in him last night: he cares about her.
there's nothing he can say. perhaps even less he can do.
even as he exhaled and looked away, his hand folded around hers.
he'll find a way. he knows he will, for there is no other option. when he looks back at her, it's with a brutal determination and promise he doesn't know he can truly keep — but one he intends to with all of his will. ) I am going to serve you his head on a platter. ( with feeling and weight, searching hers eyes, he adds, ) It won't happen again.
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and yet the way he looks away in shame angers her more than anything else, much like it had when homelander had trouble looking at her when he visited her in the cells, after she was tortured.]
I don't blame you. Either one of you. I made my own choice to track down Peacemaker and get involved, and Lucifer wants you guys to feel bad about what happened to me, I imagine that's part of why he decided to do something worse to me -- beyond the obvious point that I don't have powers to take away.
[her own feelings and trauma feel heavy enough, she's not sure she can take their guilt on top of it. but her hand squeezes his tightly all the same.
her grey-blue eyes burn with a fury that she's had trouble igniting lately, but never truly went away.]
He kept trying to feed me this bullshit about how he didn't like torturing me, and it used to be much worse -- like I should be fucking grateful or something. He'll get what's coming to him. Corrupt jailers like him always do, in the end.
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to use against them all. to make them suffer together.
it's an old hat: believing in his own invulnerability. it's a hard lesson he has learned and despite it costing his family and his life, apparently he needed another for it to stick. he sees the possible roads these insurrections will lead, and he must consider those risks. the inevitable sacrifices and if he is willing to make them. if they can be avoided; if contingencies can be made.
he's not ashamed. shame is useless. he's responsible. )
I don't want your forgiveness, ( he speaks plainly, candidly. ) I know what he meant to do, and I want him to pay for that as much as anything else. ( this is not just about her, for him. ) I won't lie to you and tell you I don't feel part of that responsibility — What I mean to say is I will not underestimate him again. ( his lips close; there's something bright and fearful in his eyes as he looks at her. something he won't and can't say. he won't underestimate how he feels about her. )
You're a fighter. That's why you made your choice. ( he knows it was her choice. he sees her fury. he believes in what she says. ) I fully expect you will be there in the end.
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[she doesn't offer forgiveness because in her mind there is nothing to forgive -- they need to be smarter fighting back in the future, that they can all agree on, but she would never blame them for trying to take control of the situation, especially considering how mistreated and humiliated they all were in those cages.
she had been proud of them, honestly.]
I don't think any of us will underestimate him -- as much as he tries to act like he's a victim as much of the rest of us, he holds the power. We can't forget that.
[what goes unsaid, what someone more perspective might see in his eyes, goes over her head. maybe it's better it does.]
Of course I will be. Wouldn't miss it for the world.
[of course there are things to consider now, like waverly being here, but all the more reason to fight. her sister doesn't deserve to be here even if she does.]
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still, there's a piercing, unreserved calculation in his eyes when they return to hers.
because he knows: this stay is a "for now."
not because he particularly relishes the thought of coming to terms, but because it is an inevitable consequence of feeling.
just as all their plans and intentions are to overthrow the king of hell. ) Good. ( speaking of: ) Now if you have any suggestions for our next move... ( he prompts the question on a lilt, his tone light, because obviously none of them are playing at advantage after the last one. )
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at least she knows klaus would understand that.
as for questions:]
Honestly? I think we should lay low for a bit, if we can help it. We're too on his radar right now.
[and none of them are really in fighting shape. sometimes the smartest move is to wait.]
Plus we can find other ways to fill our time....I seem to remember something about a shower.
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but he does not. what is ahead of him is merely earning his afterlife with elijah or the oblivion death might offer. he had been at peace with either.
truth be told, he agrees with her entirely. if lucifer's absence has gifted them anything, it's a much needed respite. he can think of worse activities to fill such time with. ) Do you? Perhaps you should remind me...
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That ringing any bells for you?
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Well for one thing, as you can feel, my hair is a mess.
[the downside to long, wavy hair is after a night like they had last night, it is a mess of tangles and needs a good wash.]
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