mahalakshmi | [ open ] i.

[ Her head rises up, pushing up with her elbows to keep herself steady. ]

Tired. [ A miserable little laugh. ] Is it defeat to return home now? [ Later than she ever tried to stay out, but probably far earlier than he ever did. ]

[ A small gesture of his hand. ]

It is not only defeated generals who quit the battlefield; victorious ones must go too.

[ That makes her smile, properly, if still - a drunken softness to it. Not quite so sharp, but all the warmer. ]

Well then, my commander, you should take me home.

[ A little snort. ]

Commander? On the contrary. I believe I'm the one who's ordered about.

[ All teeth, she quite probably is. ]

Perhaps we can pretend for a little while.

What, that I rule over you? A perfectly repugnant thought, even in jest.

[ She doesn't want to be besotted. It would be less complicated, but there she has it - adoring little laughter. ]

Is it? Well, shall you be my general? Advising me to quit the field.

What - and you my queen? I do not know, dear queen - do you think I have the makings of a general?

[ Treason, treason if ever heard by another. As if she had not committed half enough crimes this evening. ]

I think so. Or at least, a scheming adviser.

[ With a laugh, he puts a finger under her chin and starts using the wetted towel to wash her face. His touch is gentle. ]

Scheming? How hurtful. I'm an honest man, I promise. Never someone to hurt you.

[ She sits obediently still - or perhaps not obediently, merely tired and still too drunk. Her eyes falling shut again, leaning against the sink edge where things still swim behind her eyes. Not sick anymore - just the swing of drunken fervour. ]

Perhaps I need you to not be honest, perhaps I too much for us both. [ She breathes in something knotted, taking form as she says. ] I have been protected. I know... [ it takes her over. ] I know I do not know how to be a Vorrutyer. I have always done as I wanted, when I wanted - it will be different. I know -

[ A babble of concern, because she had taken no small part of his words to heart. The slow creep of what it meant to marry into his family. ]

[ He's quiet a moment, staring at her chin as he cleans it. When he does speak, his voice is honest. Quiet. ]

It's not done yet, you know. You can still run away. It's not too late.

[ Flat, angry, nothing to do with him - ] Never.

[ She won't, won't humiliate her father like that, her uncle like that. There's just too much for her ever to step down. ] But what if I fail you, in this, I do not want to - [ What? Humiliate him. That sounded foolish for everything he said. Her fingers creep up, plucking at a thread in an idle concentration. How did he always so - so - neatly a mess? ] - I do not know. Are you sure you do not wish to run away from me?

Why would I?

[ He reaches out and tucks a little stray strand of hair behind her ear, smiling a little wistfully. ]

You are far, far more than I deserve. I'm marrying far above my station. [ And, more to the point, he can't. For his sister's sake, he...needs to follow through. And Lakshmi does have a core of steel; if anyone can resist the weight of the Vorrutyer legacy, she can. ] And you cannot fail me, believe me.

[ She nods, taking solace in that flat steadiness, a particular exactness that is in part how hard it is to move in straight lines right now, and that it's hard not to shake, when she feels the thud of her heart inside her mouth when she puts her fingers over his. Curling around his hand, turning her head into that curl. A kiss that is the bite of teeth over the heel of his palm, affection press. ]

Will you forgive me if I find myself loving you?

[ He seemed so against any genuine affection - but she knows her own faults. Her own inability to not give, not with anything less than all of herself. ]

[ His face twists at that. He's drunk himself, a bit, and drunkenness fosters an honesty he's not capable of sober. Half the reason he drinks. So that flash of pain in his face is real. ]

Lady, your heart is a gift I do not deserve. It would be like draping a street-dog in priceless pearls. The creature isn't even capable of understanding its unworthiness.

[ She keeps her hold tight. Won't let him slip away - how perfectly wretched. Sick with drink, asking for permission for things that should never be a problem if they were not Vor. If they were anyone else - it should never be like that. ]

I would rip apart with my bare hands whoever led you to believe something like that.

[ His gaze lowers. A keen pain lances through him. But he keeps his voice light, saying - ]

Well, he's kneeling beside you right now. So rip away. [ He reaches out, though, and places one of her hands on his cheek, leaning against it. It soothes him. He feels strangely flushed, but her hand is cool. ] Don't love me, Lakshmi. Not with anything more than the piteous love you give a beggar. Preserve that love - for someone more worthy. For yourself. For your children.

[ She breaths, soft - ] You said my name again.

[ Likes how it sounds, that quiet way he says it. Lets it make her steady. Sure. As she forms the words too honest to say in daylight, in any time than when they're so close, it didn't matter if the sun rose, she would have nothing else. That she can think any of that, and mean it, feels half way to a sin. ] I will. I will rip you to pieces. Until I have burned every thought of that from your mind.

[ Ah. ]

Dear lady, you don't seem to understand how ripping someone to pieces works.

[ She smiles, soft a light. ]

Yes, I do. Shall I show you how I mean to?

[ His eyebrows quirk up. After only the slightest hesitation - ]

My caution, as ever, is overwhelmed by my curiosity. Go on.

[ Her smiles kicks up, a shaky laugh that bubbles up with her own recklessness. Her hand slips down, along his neck, until they both are settled flat to his chest. Pushing his jacket out of the way to where she thinks she could hear his heart beat, loud and quick. Leaning forward where she's perched against the bench edge. Settling herself to bring her knees either side of his hips, if only because it's easier, more comfortable. ]

I'll start here - every morning.

[ Presses forward and half a kiss, half a breath she takes against that steady thud she counts. Hers, now, she thinks fondly. ]

- Then here - [ she walks her fingers up, her face tilting up to face him, that same smile - she'll take the heart beat, and she'll give him this. Pausing against his shoulders. ] - Then - [ next against his neck, his jaw, setting them wide, before she brushes her thumb against the curve of his lip. ] - here.

I will tell you, you are mine, and I am yours, until you you cannot think otherwise.

[ His ironic little smile disappears quickly, and a discomfort lights in his eyes as she demonstrates. Intimacy, he can handle - obviously. He's intimate quite often, with a great many people. But this is a different sort of intimacy than sex, than kissing - the emotion of it, the warmth, it's...It's something he doesn't know how to react to. So, weakly: ]

Lakshmi...

[ And then he tries to gather himself, quipping desperately: ]

You're not going to actually ask me to get up early for all of that? That would tear me to pieces.

[ But nor does she stop, those open unforgiving promises that will only take, but give, something small and fragile back into his hands as she brushes her calloused fingers against his cheek. The curve of his nose, against the bow of his top lip. Enamoured, she remembers once, was to be full of - she thinks it apt now. ]

I did not say leave bed.

[ More innocent than what it sounds, at least to her mind. ]

But I will do it whenever I can, until you know.

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