[ he figured something was wrong when she'd sent him that portal out of nowhere, a total lack of warning attached. and yet he isn't prepared for the state she's in when she does emerge, utterly ragged like they tended to be when emerging from a match. he barely has enough time to process her appearance before she's latched onto his much bigger wrists, pulling him along with more strength than he'd think her capable of. ]
W-What- Fiona?! What happened-
[ but she ignores him, pulling him into the pristine white of their bathroom only to close the door and turn her back, fiddling with the dials. his gaze rapidly drags from the tracks of mud on the floor to the dark of the bruise on her wrist, but the question in this throat dies the moment she makes her command and starts stripping. ]
I-I- What? Just hold on a moment...!
[ it's not even the embarrassment, even if that is a factor. rather, it's just worry plastered all over his features, pinching his face and making him wring his hands. ]
Are...Are you at least ok? Can't you tell me that, at least-!
[It's one thing to not divulge information and another to outright lie. With such a direct question, Fiona can't not answer him. He deserves to know. So after her dress becomes a pile of fabric on the floor, the priestess turns to him clad only in her underwear and anguish barely masked on her face.]
No, I am not all right. Nevertheless, I will not let the today's incident oppress me. [She reaches past his wringing hands to entangle her fingers in the front of his shirt, tugging it up next. Her eyes are fixed on Andrew's chest, and her words turn hushed and desperate:]
Help me. I will burn it all, but if you could help me rewrite this memory... [Jaw clenching, her lips press into a thin line as Fiona pauses to fight back oncoming tears.] Shower with me. Please.
[ this is not where he expected to be right now, mere minutes ago. this small bathroom seems almost suffocating the more he looks at her disheveled appearance, the lack of knowledge of the situation making his overactive mind run rampant as he rakes his nails across the pale skin of his wrist; nervous habit. it's only when she turns around that he stops, the look on her face draining the color from his own.
he doesn't have time to speak, not when she spills the truth, and it makes his chest hurt. it feels dark and oppressing, like something happened to her and he couldn't do anything about it. who was it? how bad was it? she won't look at him, even as she reaches forward and pulls at his shirt, and he hesitates if but for a moment before allowing her to do so. ]
I-I... [ some part of it feels familiar in ways he'd rather not think about, which is why he relents, shirt hitting the floor as his own shaky fingers reach for the rest of his attire. ] Alright. I-I get it.
[ it's not harsh, his own voice unsteady as he fiddles with his belt. he feels a little sick almost, but what comes first is her. she needs him to help her, and he will, because neither of them need to remember things best left forgotten. ]
[The clink of metal elicits an odd sense of relief as she turns her back to him. An attempt at privacy before they have very little. The problem with that is the odd shaped mark against her back. Thankfully, it's quickly concealed as Fiona undoes her braid. Wavy locks fall into place as she runs her fingers through it, trying to work out the snarls that came about from Joseph's tugging. Once she gets some conditioner in it, it'll be easier to manage.
So without further ado, her bra hits the floor. Her panties on the other hand make her pause for a moment as Fiona grimaces. She doesn't want to see the results of her unwanted arousal...Which has her blindly tugging them off with her eyes squeezed shut. As if the item had offended her.
The priestess doesn't make anymore demands when she silently enters the shower. It's up to Andrew whether he'll join her on his own or not, but when he does, at least Fiona is preoccupied with scrubbing her face. Probably not the best idea after being slapped to prevent swelling, but she wants to get rid of the memory of the sting.]
[ really, he should be used to this. he kind of is, in a way; but the request is so sudden it throws him for a loop. even turned a bit to the side, fiddling with his clothes, he finds his anxious gaze sliding to her as she lets her hair fall into slightly knotted waves of red. he wonders, wonders what happened for her to feel this way and lets it gnarl in his chest, but that is for her to keep to herself until she decides she wants to tell.
if she does. as much as he wants to know, there are things that have happened to him, and he has not told a soul. he cannot blame her if she desires to do the same.
as a force of habit, even in their shared apartment, he finds himself doublechecking the door before turning to the running water. andrew wrings his hands once more, gingerly stepping over the clothes on the floor before sucking in a small breath and slipping into the shower itself. it's a bit more crowded with two people, but there's enough room at least that he isn't quite touching her...yet, anyway. amidst the steam and spray, he finds himself watching her scrub her face, frowning lightly as blond strands start to stick to his face. he raises a hand, not grasping her hand but obviously wanting to intervene in some way. ]
I-If...! If you do that too harshly, you'll hurt yourself.
[ hypocritical of him, honestly. but he's already scarred, a canvas of the past, so it's fine. she, however, is not. and he doesn't want her to hurt herself in one way or the other. ]
Pain I've given to myself. If I could just rewrite today--...
[Fiona cuts off on a cracking note, pitched high with frustration. He has a point, and she shouldn't distress him more than she already has when there are more requests to be made. (Plus, once this is all over, she would be very upset at herself for damaging her skin!) So the priestess pulls her hands away and moves her face up into the hot spray for a few seconds, then turning to Andrew. View partially obscured by dripping, stray hair, Fiona finally looks Andrew in the eye. She doesn't even bat an eyelash at their undressed states.]
I would rather it be you I remember. [She pushes back the mess of red to reveal her ear. There's bark under her damaged fingernails as Fiona touches the outer lobe:] Please bite me. Mark me anywhere. Anything. I don't care if it hurts-- I simply...prefer yours over another's.
[ he feels his face crumple further at the insinuation it's fine if it's herself, words cut off and yet cutting deep in the same moment. he isn't...good with things like this, other people's grief, which is why his hands hesitate as he lets them hover over her shoulders, moments before they pull back as she turns to face him. the look on her face...he doesn't like it, and he's sure it shows. ]
W-What-? [ andrew fumbles a bit, watching her lift dirty fingernails to reveal her ear. her request clearly throws him off guard, eyes widening as rivulets of hot water stream down his face. ] You want me to-?!
[ he thinks...maybe, maybe he can understand. but she's asking something of him he'd never want to do, and he finds himself lifting shaky hands to push her hair out of her face, wrapping one around the hand brushing her earlobe. his thumb anxiously swipes over her cheek, red from the steam and the scrubbing, frown heavily marring his already scarred features. ]
I...I don't want to hurt you... [ no, never. the idea sinks deep in his gut and writhes uncomfortably, as if it brings up something he'd rather not remember. ] You- I'll do whatever else you want me to, j-just don't ask me to...cause you more harm.
[Although it had started out with a pleading stare, Fiona's features soften slowly by surely as Andrew worries over her. His touch is soothing despite being the complete opposite of what the priestess requested. Perhaps, she thinks, she was going down the wrong path. With him especially.]
...That's what I love about you. [Beneath the prickly, defensive walls he puts up, Andrew is gentle at his core.
So Fiona relents, quiet and closing her eyes to his touch, feeling the water wash away the sweat, dirt, and disgust. Overwriting the memory isn't an option anymore. As for overwhelming it...Possibly. Again, it's all up to Andrew. Which is why Fiona's voice ends up barely audible above the running shower:]
...Will you make love to me instead?
[She can only imagine that his frown will deepen at the request.]
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no subject
W-What- Fiona?! What happened-
[ but she ignores him, pulling him into the pristine white of their bathroom only to close the door and turn her back, fiddling with the dials. his gaze rapidly drags from the tracks of mud on the floor to the dark of the bruise on her wrist, but the question in this throat dies the moment she makes her command and starts stripping. ]
I-I- What? Just hold on a moment...!
[ it's not even the embarrassment, even if that is a factor. rather, it's just worry plastered all over his features, pinching his face and making him wring his hands. ]
Are...Are you at least ok? Can't you tell me that, at least-!
no subject
No, I am not all right. Nevertheless, I will not let the today's incident oppress me. [She reaches past his wringing hands to entangle her fingers in the front of his shirt, tugging it up next. Her eyes are fixed on Andrew's chest, and her words turn hushed and desperate:]
Help me. I will burn it all, but if you could help me rewrite this memory... [Jaw clenching, her lips press into a thin line as Fiona pauses to fight back oncoming tears.] Shower with me. Please.
no subject
he doesn't have time to speak, not when she spills the truth, and it makes his chest hurt. it feels dark and oppressing, like something happened to her and he couldn't do anything about it. who was it? how bad was it? she won't look at him, even as she reaches forward and pulls at his shirt, and he hesitates if but for a moment before allowing her to do so. ]
I-I... [ some part of it feels familiar in ways he'd rather not think about, which is why he relents, shirt hitting the floor as his own shaky fingers reach for the rest of his attire. ] Alright. I-I get it.
[ it's not harsh, his own voice unsteady as he fiddles with his belt. he feels a little sick almost, but what comes first is her. she needs him to help her, and he will, because neither of them need to remember things best left forgotten. ]
no subject
[The clink of metal elicits an odd sense of relief as she turns her back to him. An attempt at privacy before they have very little. The problem with that is the odd shaped mark against her back. Thankfully, it's quickly concealed as Fiona undoes her braid. Wavy locks fall into place as she runs her fingers through it, trying to work out the snarls that came about from Joseph's tugging. Once she gets some conditioner in it, it'll be easier to manage.
So without further ado, her bra hits the floor. Her panties on the other hand make her pause for a moment as Fiona grimaces. She doesn't want to see the results of her unwanted arousal...Which has her blindly tugging them off with her eyes squeezed shut. As if the item had offended her.
The priestess doesn't make anymore demands when she silently enters the shower. It's up to Andrew whether he'll join her on his own or not, but when he does, at least Fiona is preoccupied with scrubbing her face. Probably not the best idea after being slapped to prevent swelling, but she wants to get rid of the memory of the sting.]
no subject
if she does. as much as he wants to know, there are things that have happened to him, and he has not told a soul. he cannot blame her if she desires to do the same.
as a force of habit, even in their shared apartment, he finds himself doublechecking the door before turning to the running water. andrew wrings his hands once more, gingerly stepping over the clothes on the floor before sucking in a small breath and slipping into the shower itself. it's a bit more crowded with two people, but there's enough room at least that he isn't quite touching her...yet, anyway. amidst the steam and spray, he finds himself watching her scrub her face, frowning lightly as blond strands start to stick to his face. he raises a hand, not grasping her hand but obviously wanting to intervene in some way. ]
I-If...! If you do that too harshly, you'll hurt yourself.
[ hypocritical of him, honestly. but he's already scarred, a canvas of the past, so it's fine. she, however, is not. and he doesn't want her to hurt herself in one way or the other. ]
no subject
[Fiona cuts off on a cracking note, pitched high with frustration. He has a point, and she shouldn't distress him more than she already has when there are more requests to be made. (Plus, once this is all over, she would be very upset at herself for damaging her skin!) So the priestess pulls her hands away and moves her face up into the hot spray for a few seconds, then turning to Andrew. View partially obscured by dripping, stray hair, Fiona finally looks Andrew in the eye. She doesn't even bat an eyelash at their undressed states.]
I would rather it be you I remember. [She pushes back the mess of red to reveal her ear. There's bark under her damaged fingernails as Fiona touches the outer lobe:] Please bite me. Mark me anywhere. Anything. I don't care if it hurts-- I simply...prefer yours over another's.
no subject
W-What-? [ andrew fumbles a bit, watching her lift dirty fingernails to reveal her ear. her request clearly throws him off guard, eyes widening as rivulets of hot water stream down his face. ] You want me to-?!
[ he thinks...maybe, maybe he can understand. but she's asking something of him he'd never want to do, and he finds himself lifting shaky hands to push her hair out of her face, wrapping one around the hand brushing her earlobe. his thumb anxiously swipes over her cheek, red from the steam and the scrubbing, frown heavily marring his already scarred features. ]
I...I don't want to hurt you... [ no, never. the idea sinks deep in his gut and writhes uncomfortably, as if it brings up something he'd rather not remember. ] You- I'll do whatever else you want me to, j-just don't ask me to...cause you more harm.
no subject
...That's what I love about you. [Beneath the prickly, defensive walls he puts up, Andrew is gentle at his core.
So Fiona relents, quiet and closing her eyes to his touch, feeling the water wash away the sweat, dirt, and disgust. Overwriting the memory isn't an option anymore. As for overwhelming it...Possibly. Again, it's all up to Andrew. Which is why Fiona's voice ends up barely audible above the running shower:]
...Will you make love to me instead?
[She can only imagine that his frown will deepen at the request.]