[ Oh it's so easy to do the things she shouldn't. It's always been easy since she came here to snatch at the things she was denied. To revel in the blood and guts and misery that came with the unbridled joy of living. The be greedy like the people she knew best.
To turn herself up, to be more awful that she was otherwise because she hurts, she hurts so much, wants to cry and refuses to do that ever again because Parker had chosen this. She had made it clear that whatever Angel had offered her ( everything, she had let her in as far as she could into every bit and piece of her, the good and the bad and the days where she was nothing but the wreck Jack left her, desperately clinging to her shirt and the day she kissed her with a mouthful of sunshine and Parker had cut out what had made it all so real to her and - )
she kisses her, head turned into her, arms looping about her shoulders and her heart is pounding and her eyes are stinging and it's not the sweet kind exchanges of a morning, or the reverence in the dark corners it is whole and every bit of her. A scrape of teeth against her lips, a moaned guttural noise because she's missed her, she's missed her and she's right in front of her and she'll never feel her the same again - her fingers draw through her hair and it's ever bit of it a goodbye when she's a mouthful of lighting, can smell the singe of burned skin and lightning. The stuttering of her heartbeat she can only feel now, no longer hear. ]
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To turn herself up, to be more awful that she was otherwise because she hurts, she hurts so much, wants to cry and refuses to do that ever again because Parker had chosen this. She had made it clear that whatever Angel had offered her ( everything, she had let her in as far as she could into every bit and piece of her, the good and the bad and the days where she was nothing but the wreck Jack left her, desperately clinging to her shirt and the day she kissed her with a mouthful of sunshine and Parker had cut out what had made it all so real to her and - )
she kisses her, head turned into her, arms looping about her shoulders and her heart is pounding and her eyes are stinging and it's not the sweet kind exchanges of a morning, or the reverence in the dark corners it is whole and every bit of her. A scrape of teeth against her lips, a moaned guttural noise because she's missed her, she's missed her and she's right in front of her and she'll never feel her the same again - her fingers draw through her hair and it's ever bit of it a goodbye when she's a mouthful of lighting, can smell the singe of burned skin and lightning. The stuttering of her heartbeat she can only feel now, no longer hear. ]