[ And it's in this she doesn't really know what to make of her some days, why some days they're still tense, the one thing that they'll never see eye to eye about. The brood was and remained everything to Angel, she would do worse to herself to protect them. She knows eventually one day, she will give herself over fully to it. She was putting it off, she had a lifetime to make up for her lack of experience, and she revelled every day outside like this for what it was worth.
Revelled in the closeness of this too. Pressing her fingertips all in a line against Parker's cheek and smiling softly. They might often at odds about what it meant to be part of the Brood. But right now, she is nothing but easy and open. A bemused smile for Parker's concern. ]
It's hardly something that can be helped, it's what I am. Besides -
[ Sucks in a breath that cuts off her words as Parker hooks on her pants, tugs her in, and she shuffles the step closer that is prompted, until the outside of her thigh brushes against Parker's and she tilts her face up at her. Thumb curling around her face until it brushed against the corner of her mouth, sweeping across the line of her bottom lip to angle her down to her by invitation rather than firm direction. She knew now, how little could get a lot with Parker, that sometimes it took no more than dropping her shoulders and arching her back up just so, could get her attention across a room if she wanted it.
But this isn't some demand of attention for the sake of, this was the same thing she said over and over again, meeting her eyes directly and using the brush of contact to echo the warmth of her words. Her care, her concern. Directed at her so utterly. She would say it as often as Parker complained that she put herself at risk too often. But in the safety of being held, she lets it unfold fully, the broad weight of her mind, wrapping about her comfortably. ]
[ Parker says stubbornly, return of the earlier dig. She could just-- stop. Reject the brood like Parker is doing. She could stop and Parker could protect her better than them (she couldn't, she can't give what the brood gives Angel, and it makes her jealous and it hurts that she can't give her that, even if she knows it isn't right to want to, it isn't like-- it would be selfish, to want to keep her, keep holding on to this, whatever it is, to be an obstacle in her path, but she doesn't want her to be of them and sometimes, rarely, she holds on so tightly to her because she knows it is inevitable that she will lose her to them and it suffocates her, makes her eyes sting. She thinks about it, more than she should, even when she is trying not to and she knows she is going to go through that loss, eventually, and she is so scared of it).
So she clings to these little moments. She clings to them and wants to remember every detail. Parker is quiet as she touches her face, always bruised, always cut, somehow. Nothing this time but a little red mark above her eyebrow, some silly fall, probably. Only her small scar on her upper lip remains, a memory of childhood. Presses her cheek to her hand as she keeps it ready.
She rolls her eyes to Angel. Petulant, maybe. ]
No.
[ Definitely petulant and definitely not true. Whatever. She straightens up finally, shifts so that she can settle her chin on Angel's right shoulder, just barely. Watching the horizon again. Loops her right arm around her, to hold on the rail, hand by her left side. Trapping her there, but not really. Too soft to not to be pushed away if she wanted.
There is a long pause. A silence that stretches. Parker finally moves again, half hiding her face against her neck. ]
[ For a second, she does nothing more but sigh in exasperation as Parker insists on her behalf that she should -- what, she doesn't know, be more careful? Perhaps. It's not the first time she's heard it from others, maybe not quite Parker but that so often people treated her like she was glass. It's fair, she supposes, Aoba pointed out more than once she couldn't even walk when she arrived.
Her hands slip down and settle to the flat of Parker's shoulders, eyes searching her face, and she is smiling, as ever, her hair curling around her face, sweeping oddly with the breeze that weaves across the rooftops. It's peaceful, it's quiet, it's all theirs. She smiles for her, and just for her and no one else.
Lets her settle in close, the loose draping clothes getting pulled in tight to herself as she's trapped so comfortably, and for one second, one complete second, it's perfect.
Then Parker presses into her neck and she feels the question she so sweetly presses into her pulse, a thud straight to her heart and Angel stiffens sharp along her spine. ]
Don't ask me that.
[ Bird in a cage, her heart beats and beats and beats inside the bars of her ribcage. Swallowing down and there's too much there because she'd give her everything, she knows she would, except that. ] Anything else, just... just don't ask me that.
[ Parker knew that was the answer. Of course she knew. But deep down, there was still hope. For all she tries to be a realist about (pessimistic, but she would never say that), Parker has hope. Always had. It is what carried her through the resistance. It is what carried through after all of them were killed and she was kept in a masked prison. So she had hope, even if she knew she shouldn't because she would get hurt more when she does. And it does sting. It does clench around her chest like something that smothers and burns at the same time. Like smoke spreading through her lungs and she hates the hive more in that fraction of a second, hates it with everything she has got. Because she is an angry little thing and Angel is kindness and warmth.
She keeps her face where it is, presses it even closer to her neck. Hard to breath like that, but she doesn't care. Blows hot against her skin, shoulders dropping. Holds back her bite. Doesn't hold back anything else. ]
Don't go tomorrow.
[ Says it again, but smaller. Like sharing a secret. Her fingers hold on the railing so tight they turn white, but she still doesn't trap her and it should say so much, the body language. Begging her to stay, but not barring the exit. She can go, if she wants. She would not hate her for it. She couldn't. She would not blame her for it. All her bile would be for the brood. ]
[ God, it hurts. It's impossible not to feel it. The rawness and why, why is she asking her for the one thing she can't give her? Her fingers curl sharply against Parker's shoulders. Not sure if she wants to push her away or stay and - ]
How can you ask me that?
[ Doesn't bother with foolish promises, that nothing will happen to her. Because it can. It always can. How many have they already lost? How many of their brood have been cut down and left now, how many new have hatched to not last past the first mission?
And for all that, because she is one that has survived, how could she not want to protect the others that come new now? To save them from this pain that would meet them one day anyway, but to put it off for them as long as she could, to work for the symbiote that lived as part of her. They needed her too, in their way, and Cathaway had promised her a family that wouldn't hurt her, and she was determined so much that this should all be better.
Not angry, but she might be later, not frustrated except that she keeps a lot of secrets and she never talks about herself, or her home, for a great deal of reasons and one of them in particular that she keeps away from even her brood.
Swallows, her brows knitted and her fingers grip her tightly, somethings set sharp in her teeth that makes her grit them. This hurts, this hurts too much. It's not fair. To either of them. ]
[ Because she is selfish and she is scared and she wants to keep her as she is for as long as she can, because she knows, she knows what is going to happen, sooner or later, and she can't bare the thought of losing her. The more time passes, the more she can see it. Her becoming more concerned for the hive. Giving up the little parts of herself slowly, bit by bit. And the more she does, the more Parker has to face the fact that she will have to pull away, bit by bit. Cut the little threads, bit by bit. She does not connect to the ones brought over. She does not care. She keeps her walls up, builds them higher, and higher, and higher.
She will be alive for it, but she won't be Parker's anymore. Because she can't-- won't let herself be part of the hive, of the brood. Won't, won't, won't. It makes her sick just to think of it. Even if it meant-- even if it meant to stay with her a little bit longer.
She is doing what she told herself not to do. To become an obstacle. But what hurts more is the fact that she knows well that for Angel, the choice is easy (and how hypocritical of her to feel hurt by it, when her own choice of keeping her distance comes as easy, if not more so - but it is just heartbreaking to know that it will always be like that for her, that every thing she attaches herself to, she is loyal to, will always eventually be taken away).
Her shoulders shake a little bit. Almost imperceptible, but how could she not see it when her heart is wrenched so tight in wires under her burning chest? Can feel the corner of her eyes wet, trying to close them so tight it almost gives her a headache. ]
[ It stings then, cuts deeper than maybe anyone else could. Trusts Parker, so far as she clung to her independence and she thought of all people Parker would understand that, understand about getting make choices, about wanting to save others, even if they did it in different ways
But she wasn't -- it is just that, hypocritical, and if there was one thing she could not stand --
She stops leaning into her then, her back going stiff and straightening. Not pulling away from her, not yet at least but there's a sharp line to her. Choose her? She swallows stiffly. She will be calm, she was always calm, but that didn't mean that there wasn't something knotting in her chest tightly. Something so brittle there, able to shatter, there always has been between them. ]
Fine. [ Her hands are still set against her shoulders, her face turned up but there's something flat, flat, flat there. The crackle of heaviness to her words. ] I won't go -- [ she won't be pushed, she won't be guilted, and this feels so much like that. It turns over in her stomach, bile in her throat. ] -- when you try and spend some time with the rest of the brood instead of forcing us all away.
[ The thing is, she does, and she knows it isn't fair, but she doesn't want to be fair anymore, she doesn't want to give the hive any resemblance of justice because it's not fair she doesn't get to keep Angel. Not in a purely possessive way; she just wants to keep her how she is. Herself. Unadulterated by the symbiote. Not part of something else. She wants her tangible and free.
But she knows she can't have that. She knew the answer before it was spoken. Her hands still hold on the railing, so hard it hurts, metal digging into her skin. Her face still pressed to her neck and she holds her breath because she doesn't even trust herself to breathe anymore. ]
I can't.
[ And from her voice, she can't hide the sob that comes with it. She is alone and she will always be, because that is the way it has to be (the way she has made it be). It is the only way to fight, to keep the will of the self, to hold on so adamantly to all her ideals and memories and she doesn't want to forget any name, any detail-- any part of Angel either.
It doesn't make a difference how hard she closes her eyes because the tears push through anyway. She never cries. Not often, not as much as she should, but it's too much. All of the immensity of it. She keeps her face against Angel even if she leans back. Why does it have to be her to go? Why is it always the people she needs that have to go?
What a selfish thing it is to think like that. But she is so tired of letting go. It hurts so much, every time. ]
[ She drops her hands then, setting them flat to her side, fingers curling up sharply into her palms. Cutting little crescents. Her breath comes in sharp, not unaffected by her tears. Of course she does, she would, over and over, do anything for her. As much want to brush her lips against her cheeks, mop them up - and this is the mess, this will always be the difference between them.
No, she doesn't understand. Angel goes still, still, still, under her. Not affection, not pulling away because what can she say, really? The hot wet splash she can feel against her neck, and she fights to keep her words even. ]
[ She moves further away and Parker feels lonelier in that moment than she ever felt before. In that fraction, there is a world between her and everything else. Between her and Angel. She tries to hold it back, keep it in, but the sniffles keep coming and she is not sure what to do with herself anymore. Hands gripping on the railing let go of it, tendon by tendon. She wants to hold on to her and burrow against her and tell her to not to go because everyone goes and it is not fair.
She doesn't push further even though that is what she wants to do. Wants to step in her and feel her scent and her warmth. But she keeps still where she is, because Angel is pulling her hands away and she can feel her want to push her off. She doesn't blame her. But she hates them so much, right then. Why do they get to keep her if they don't even want her as she is? She hates herself for wanting to keep her as she is. Angel is her own person and it is not fair to ask her for these things. But she does anyway because she can't help herself, feels like drowning in emptiness, feels like trying to hold on burning rope: against time, for it will eventually disintegrate under the flames.
She finds it in herself the strength to lean back. Tries, really tries, to look up, but can't, eyes shiny and red, pink nose and ears. Can't-- can't look at her because it hurts that she never gets to be chosen, never gets to be hers because she would rather share. Parker is not being fair, but fairness is not always right. ]
Then what?
[ She wipes, frustratedly, at her eyes, but it doesn't quite work to stop the tears. ]
Tell me why am I so wrong.
[ It doesn't matter. She doesn't want to really hear it. She knows already. She wishes for a moment that Angel would shove her away (has every right to). It would be easier that way. ]
[ Her face is turned away, the set of her hair over her face to keep her expression hidden to herself, because neither of them can look at each other, it seems. She swallows, dry, the air seems so lacking in warmth now and she should have known this could never have ended well. But in her desperate to keep her close to her, to reconcile this pull between them, she had ignored it all for the hope of something else instead. So willing to shut her eyes, and she'd lie, except she'd promised she never would about herself again, or on anyone else's behalf.
Presses her lips together, and it is so, so quiet, what she knows is worse, than whatever it is Parker fears would happen to her. That the hive would consume her, and no doubt, one day she would make that sacrifice. But in that way, she would always be part of the hive. ]
Because I'm dead, Parker, the symbiote is the only thing keeping me alive. My father ruined me, he destroyed my body so utterly and my life meant nothing, that what the hive has done for me is the only reason I am with you now. I can't risk my body rejecting it, or it rejecting me.
[ She can't be sure what causes it, why some of them go to sleep, but she was determined with all of herself to keep hanging onto this chance of life that she had been so utterly denied. She wouldn't risk the chance that it ended a day too soon. This - all of it - was too precious, that for the first time in her life she could truly help the people she cared about. That she could kiss Parker until her body went numb with it - it's all because they had taken her away, given her this moment.
And now, she does push away, side-stepping out from under her, her arms tucking in close to her and shut herself away. It's done, it's just... done. She doesn't have anything else to say really. ] I'm... I'm going to go, okay?
[ Whatever she was expecting, it definitely was not that. Something about loyalty to the hive, to Cathaway, whatever. What comes out of her mouth is so raw and unfiltered, it hits her like an iron fist, rips the air out of her lungs. Tears still dropping, uneven stream down her cheeks, her eyebrows climb up slowly on her forehead and her eyes widen in shock. Doesn't know which feeling to pinpoint in that moment.
Only a beat after it is clear which one is spreading from her chest to the rest of her. Anger flares and she can barely contain it behind those immense walls, seeping through the smallest crack, climbing up like a disease. Not to Angel, no, but to her situation and to the hive and how dare they prey on the weak, pretending to be giving them a chance when really they are just chaining them to an eternal prison of servitude and mindlessness.
Parker feels like... Well, mostly like an asshole, but also decisively at loss for words. Her eyes searching Angel's quickly then, like in panic, and she wants to-- Oh, she has no idea what she wants. Feels sick and helpless and hates the feeling of not being able to do anything. Conflicted and robbed of hope: whatever had been hiding deep down, that maybe she could make Angel see that there were other ways away from the hive, all gone.
She can't breathe for a second and has to crouch, pressing her forehead to her knees, slowly slipping her hands over her head, into her hair, gripping too tight, until it hurts. Shoulders shaking and she has no idea what to make of it. Doesn't say anything when Angel starts to move away. For a long time, too.
Then she finally finds her voice, hoarse and sticky, tongue dry and throat raw. ]
Don't go.
[ She could say a thousand things. She could say nothing. She could demand answers. Demand why she did not tell her before. But she chooses to beg into her jeans. Does not chase her because it is not right, would never do that.
But the thought of her gone is too much. The absolute certainty that she will never have anything else but this. The inevitability that they will break away one day, getting closer to that moment each second that goes by. Parker is anger and sadness and loss and terrifying loneliness, all in that second. ]
[ One word almost too late, she's ready to turn on her heel and just go. Because she never wanted this. She never wanted any of this. But she can't deny Parker anything either, can she? She stands there for awhile, at a loss of what to do. It has been a long, long time since she cried at anything - because she had gone numb, long before this point. Her eyes lowered and watching her, no part of her is ready for this conversation. She was intent on putting it all behind her, only for it to come up now.
She pretends so often to be a qualitative force, all soft-spoken words to help others in their grieving, but she has never stopped to do the same for herself. Her eyes down, feeling an acrid taste in her mouth. This is it, isn't it? This is what they will be.
She never wanted any of this, she had only wanted to snatch her life for seconds that she never got, she only wanted to have happiness and everything in between that she had never felt. Something tears itself up inside of her as she kneels in front of her for awhile, still at a loss, she just can't stand to see her curled up little like this.
Swallows, her fingers hover without touching, not sure how to. She feels vulnerable and open. ]
[ Angel is so quiet that Parker thinks she has already lost her and it makes her gasp for air as a sob rakes through her. All that strength she puts up, the front of stoicism, the anger, all of it is a mask for Parker's immense sadness. It is why she is so loyal to the small circle she lets in. She would do anything to keep them safe. She would set herself on fire. She would burn for them. And maybe that is her overpowering sense of worthlessness and guilt, or the need she has for self-destruction. Whatever it is, regardless of its violence, it is moved by her heart. She tries to keep it hidden. But sometimes she feels so much she thinks she could bleed through her chest.
She feels her settle in front of her but doesn't-- can't move. Trying to breathe in. Breathe out. Fingers so tight in her hair she might just rip it out. Knows, knows so well, knows too much, that this is what they are and all they can be and nothing more, nothing less. How they will always walk the tight space of distant threads that are so tangled up any pull on them makes them tighter and painful. She never wanted to be more, never wanted for this to happen. She didn't want her kindness nor her warmth. But Angel had given her that, more, more, and Parker kept chasing it. Like running a straight line in the dark with no direction. Always trying to reach but never quite fully there.
Parker doesn't look up. She falls forward. Scrapping knees on the ground, but that is only normal. Curls her fingers around the front of Angel's jacket and keeps herself there. Touching but at a distance. Her whole body weighs like sinking steel. Clings to her clothes, tight under curled fingers, head down. ]
Don't go.
[ She says again in a sob, in a small voice, in a nothingness of a whisper. Looks up to her, eyes wet, shiny, red. Feels so-- betrayed, but knows she has no right to feel like that, she has her own secrets, with so many walls, but it hurts that she didn't know, that she only told her because she pushed and it shatters through her like glass, cuts like shards, bleeds tiny cuts everywhere. ]
I need you.
[ Selfish coward. Weak, worthless, guilty. And yet she still gets to be the one that lives. ]
[ She leans back as Parker leans into her, her arms slipping around Parker's shoulders, an anchoring point to draw her in and down, tilting herself close into the railing they had been leant against before. An invitation to curl against her, to wrap them close together, pressing her face against Parker's hair and fingers curling up tightly in her clothes, legs curling underneath her.
It's mess, they're a mess, and it's the same raw breath she takes in deep like she was dying all over again. ]
I'm here, I'll always be here with you.
[ She has nowhere else to go, that much is obvious now. This is her, beginning middle and - no end, she knows now, but an infinity. Across a thousand screens and a thousand machines and in the long echoes of the hives memories, it is where she will be.
She is thankful of the hive, not hateful of it. Long ago, she was asked if this felt like freedom to her - but the thing was, Cathaway had never lied to her. She said she could make this place a home, a family of her own, and she had, made up for all her own empty spaces, and taught her what it was to be needed for herself, not for her use. ]
[ There is no way she could fight it, then again, why would she-- Parker goes with the soft pull, falling against Angel. Burrows against her like she always does when they sleep close. Keeps holding on to Angel, holding so tight. Could almost melt in to her. Buries her face against her chest, curling under her arms so small. Trying to stop the ache and the tears but finding it impossible to.
The words sting more than they help. Always here. She knows. Parker frowns, gripping tightly on to Angel. It is closer to the absolute truth than she wants it to be. She will always be part of this thing. Parker has yet to quit searching for a way out (one of those secrets), has yet to give up on finding a way to peel the symbiote from her. And nothing could stop her from trying - except death.
She lets herself stay there, anchor in Angel, shoulders trembling with each stronger sob, muffling shaky, breathless gasps into her chest. Maybe part of her wished she could take Angel with her, maybe she just thought that she could take away the symbiote from everyone, let it rot somewhere. A pure rejection of it. Diseases use bodies as hosts. It is nothing more than a parasite. But she can't, now.
Angel is there, now, then, and so Parker keeps still for it. Wraps her fingers around her wrist, holding on. And she stays there, not moving, not wanting to move. Wanting to keep the memory of her intact. Trying to take in Angel's kindness and warmth and calmness in to her soul, and maybe that will ease the pain, but the only thing that does is her presence and her existence and how it shortens every day it passes. And if she can have her arms near one more time, she will take it. ]
[ With no idea of what else to do, she stays curled around her, doesn't pull away, doesn't yank or fight her. Just burrows in close to her, lets her hold as tight as she wants. She is nothing but calm acceptance, an evenness of looking at the world.
Can think of nothing, for awhile, watching the suns move above them. Then idly, drawing her fingers through her hair, dark against her pale fingers. ]
I am sorry you had to find out. I never thought... it would ever come up, I guess.
[ She had wanted so much to pretend that her old life held no sway over her. She had shed it, burned it all from herself like the phoenixes they so often called sirens. Maybe not that she had been born free, so much as just born again. A different life that was all her own now. She was content, to just it all go. ]
[ She always knew that this, them, had a short span. Always knew it was something that would not last. Something short and easy. But there is a difference between knowing and accepting it. She thought she had. That she was all set to break apart when the time came. It is the main reason for the avoidance. For the fleeing looks and the shyness (other than, actual shyness). She hasn't, however. Because being with her makes her feel a little bit better about all this. Feels like it doesn't tire herself that much, even when it does. A little solace in all of this.
But she hasn't accepted and it is why it hurts so much. Parker presses her face tighter against Angel's shoulder as the ache spreads over her, doesn't go, clings to her like tar. She slips her arms around her waist, flattens her hands against her back. Feels-- sorry. Feels for her. Feels bad about all of this and most of all, hates that she can do nothing to help Angel and is so jealous the hive has given her an answer (not that she would know her if she hadn't, but for all her logical side, Parker often thinks with her heart).
She opens her eyes, cheek against her shoulder, as she stares off into nothing. The horizon of the tall buildings, all alien and pretty. Pain still swirling, but pushing it slowly inside of her. Swallowing it down and into her chest, where it burns and transforms into anger. But not now. Now she is just-- aching. Parker leans her head back slightly, pressing her nose to her cheek. Doesn't say anything because she has nothing to say (never has the proper words anyway). Brushes her lips to her soft skin. Takes in her scent and god, she wants to memorize it forever. ]
I'm sorry.
[ And it has been years since those words have left her mouth. But she is not apologizing for what it is, or what it was. She is apologizing for what will inevitably be. ]
[ It's the last thing she wants anyone to tell her, her face turning into Parker's cheek, a smooth motion as she nuzzles back into her.
There's a lot more to it, other than she died, other than she had been alive, other than the hive had given her a way out of her own fate. Because she had been ready to do, it's not like it had snuck on her, she had years and years of watching, waiting, knowing and accepting what had happened to her. ]
I spent years, watching others, my whole life, in fact. So much misery and so much death. Because that's what Pandora is. [ It's murmured softly, quiet like secrets maybe should be and she has far, far too many of them. ] I learned that eventually what was and could have been doesn't really matter, to what you do now.
[ and Parker - Parker more than anything, made her happy, made her feel whole and wanted and she is just as selfish with that want. A greediness that only loneliness makes as she turns into her. ]
Parker brings one of her hands up to wipe her face, eyes and nose and cheek a shade of red and pink. Her other hand curls its fingers around her jacket like she doesn't ever want to let go (she will have to one day, but not now, not today, should, but can't, would make it easier the earlier she does but how could she, when she holds her like that and feels so warm and is so kind and so gentle and has her fingers in her hair and keeps her close, so close?). Lays her cheek back on her shoulder, facing her neck, so pretty and pale. Still hurt, still a heavy pain in her heart. Parker sighs through her nose, closing her eyes for a moment.
She should let go in that moment. Like ripping a bandaid. Easier when it's still early (but it is already so late). Sometimes she can feel it, the way there is more than Angel in there and it wrenches in her heart like poison. Watches across the room, sometimes, when she isn't looking, and it clogs in her throat, in the pit of her stomach. Every day a little harder to bear.
And then, she says things like that. Parker knows what her apology meant. Angel still does not. And one day she will, maybe, when she inevitably dives into her destruction. Somehow.
Parker lifts her head from her shoulder finally, eyes still wet and agonisingly sad. Looks over her face, her eyes, her mouth. Doesn't have it in her to say that she wants to rip away from all of this. That she might just become her own Pandora. There is no courage in her to speak such words. She slips a hand against the side of her neck, tracing her thumb over her jaw. Frowns, because it hurts. How can she let go of her when she has barely held on?
Instead, she can only beg. ]
You're here now. [ And in this moment, just for now, Parker wants to wrap around her and shield her from all the death and misery she will one day bring and she knows there will be no turning back, no forgiveness, but she keeps it a secret. For this one moment, she can keep it away from her.
She leans in, kisses her soft, barely a touch. Leans back again, to look to her eyes. ]
[ There was something she could probably say, some soft word to soothe them both but -- what was there really, to tilting her face against Parker's, kissing her then with her fingers through her hair and her body settled warm underneath her.
It's coaxing, inviting into her own solidness. One kiss in a brush, and then another, her lips parting against hers, a soft barely there sound she presses into her because -- it's instant, quick pulsing light that shudders out of her. Echoing brightly, so utterly entranced so much by the contact and of having. Needful and open. Holding herself just so inside the brace of Parker's fingers.
Her eyes close, and she leans into her, as much as she leans. Some days she thinks she could be this warm for days, for Parker. ]
[ Angel does not answer her with words, but she feels like she does not need her to do it with words when it is so clearly written in the way she holds her close, that she kisses her so sweet. She shifts from her position, half laying on the floor, to press closer as Angel leans in to her. Shifts her hand down her neck and slips arm over her shoulder; all wrapped around her like that.
She tries not to be, well, too much, but how could she not? Parker breathes softly into the kiss before pulling back just a fraction. Hovers over her mouth like that, looking up to her eyes. She has no idea why it affects her so, the way Angel is, the way she feels, the way she cares for her. Sweet and unashamedly so. Parker kisses her cheek once, lingering. Wants to tell her she is sorry and won't stop feeling like that for a long time and eventually will have to come to terms that it is a weight she is going to carry all her life (doesn't have to, could easily fall in to the hive and would accepted in a warm embrace, but it doesn't work like that for her, would not allow herself to lose agency, to lose her memories and her fight). Buries her face in her neck and breathes shakily, before pressing small kisses to her skin and for a moment that is all she wants, to adore her with her lips. Not the best place or position for it, but they are there and the moment is there and it is impossible not to hurt with it.
Parker leans back up to her lips and parts them around Angel's, not too intense about it but definitely wanting. And it lasts, lasts for a long time, as long as Angel will let her kiss her and slip her tongue in to her mouth. Not the kind of rush that comes with hot heartbeats, but a languidness that comes with longing. They should move, they should, but, ah, she is too warm and too comfortable in Angel's arms, safe and wanted and existing. ]
[ It steals her breath in a trickle out of her lungs, she can see the suns that shone bright a brilliant above Parker, filtering light through her hair. Feels it bright in her eyes -- and maybe there is something poetic in that, in how she is now, that she is looking at this all with the sun in her eyes, but as long as Parker is kissing her she doesn't care. She is here, and Parker is here, and the sun is shining on them and she doesn't care about anything more than this right now.
Because this might be something she never dared to dream of but as Parker's kisses wonder across her skin, she arches for it, like she found so easy to do. Her fingers uncurling only to grip again, a little lower, sharp into her shoulders, holding her tightly to keep her there, kissing her, an echo of a word in her throat that is stillborn, formed and forgotten as she feels the brush of Parker's tongue in her mouth and rolls the line of her body in beckoning. Because she wants that pain, sweet as it is.
It's there, that she ought to press some sense into them. ( As much as the thought of letting Parker kissing her there is a vivid thought, as gritty and as detailed, of laying here, bared, in the sun like it's all theirs and everyone else could be damned - but she'd found out she had far less hang ups about that then Parker did ). Instead, she pulls away just barely, swallowing, lips reddened and wet and her eyes bright - ]
Find me somewhere where I can touch you?
[ Silly because, well she is, regardless, but she figures Parker can fill in the blanks. Because she wants to, oh she wants to, she adores her, it sings so brightly in her mind there's no mistaking that under current, she wants to pour over her, as if - as if she could make it all up, somehow, press quiet forgive me's into her dip of her ribs. Give her sharp, sharp memories, as real as her teeth dragging across her thighs. ]
[ It seems that Angel always knows what to say or what to do, what to push in to her soul (that Parker is still so careful about, keeps it closed even around Angel - even if she is much more open to her than anyone else). Fingers in her hair and Parker is all weak and soft and easy for her, always is, pulling her closer with the hand on her back. Doesn't break from her lips, because she can't, afraid she will stop breathing if she does. Shifts into her, her hand around her shoulder going further out to wrap her fingers around the railing - again trapping her without closing off all the exits, still gentle and soft, not pushing but taking what she gives her so freely. Because it makes it easier, makes it less painful, and she doesn't feel it rip apart from inside if Angel keeps holding her, her fingers in her hair feel better than almost anything, the way she holds her close like that.
Parker tilts her head almost obediently to Angel's, following her kisses and her lips and drowns in it. In her.
It is impossible for Parker not to follow her mouth when Angel pulls back to speak, too close to not to give in to that temptation. But she lets her speak when her first words are pressed into her lips, slowly opening her eyes up to her. And it makes her heart race a little faster and swell up and sometimes she wonders just exactly how much does Angel know how her words affect her (she is sure she does, she knows well how to use them, better than bullets), how her words can make her do anything she asked her. Her eyes linger on hers, before they skim over to her lips again, exhale, back up to her again. Curling hair sticking slightly everywhere at the back of her head because of Angel's hand and that is perfect.
Saying what she is saying... Parker looks almost taken aback by her own keen want over just the thought of it. ]
Oh, I-- Okay. [ But she doesn't move right away, cheeks now not just red from her tears but from a bursting heart and a warmth that is all too familiar, that Angel can easily bring forth with a touch, with a word. ] We can go back to the quarters?
[ She almost, almost would let her pull her into her right there and then. It crosses her mind. Would do it, if Angel told her to, because she can't deny her anything, but there is definitely part of her that feels... Shy about it, would rather have the privacy, always been like that. ]
It's not far.
[ She lowers her eyes down her neck, watching, lower, twist in her belly. ]
[ There's a power she knows she has there - not just in her kindness, that Parker is just as empty as she, but that she can very much feel her eyes on her her when they aren't meeting her gaze at all. It was good -- she didn't mind. Her body was still something she was working out years later than most people did, glad to feel - appreciated. But appreciated felt mild, she knew, for the heat she found so often in her gaze, felt in her own too often.
Her hands sweep up her back, fingers splayed wide and she swells with a deep breath - it's so tempting to roll her back now in a curled tight impatience and greed. But she bites her lip, stills the want, and nods slowly. ]
Alright.
[ It's an agony, to peel her fingers away, to drop her hands onto the ground, but it's as much as she can do, trapped there under Parker. Her eyes looking up at her face, patiently waiting for her to move off of her. Not in any hurry, regardless. ]
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no subject
Revelled in the closeness of this too. Pressing her fingertips all in a line against Parker's cheek and smiling softly. They might often at odds about what it meant to be part of the Brood. But right now, she is nothing but easy and open. A bemused smile for Parker's concern. ]
It's hardly something that can be helped, it's what I am. Besides -
[ Sucks in a breath that cuts off her words as Parker hooks on her pants, tugs her in, and she shuffles the step closer that is prompted, until the outside of her thigh brushes against Parker's and she tilts her face up at her. Thumb curling around her face until it brushed against the corner of her mouth, sweeping across the line of her bottom lip to angle her down to her by invitation rather than firm direction. She knew now, how little could get a lot with Parker, that sometimes it took no more than dropping her shoulders and arching her back up just so, could get her attention across a room if she wanted it.
But this isn't some demand of attention for the sake of, this was the same thing she said over and over again, meeting her eyes directly and using the brush of contact to echo the warmth of her words. Her care, her concern. Directed at her so utterly. She would say it as often as Parker complained that she put herself at risk too often. But in the safety of being held, she lets it unfold fully, the broad weight of her mind, wrapping about her comfortably. ]
- haven't I tended worse on you?
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[ Parker says stubbornly, return of the earlier dig. She could just-- stop. Reject the brood like Parker is doing. She could stop and Parker could protect her better than them (she couldn't, she can't give what the brood gives Angel, and it makes her jealous and it hurts that she can't give her that, even if she knows it isn't right to want to, it isn't like-- it would be selfish, to want to keep her, keep holding on to this, whatever it is, to be an obstacle in her path, but she doesn't want her to be of them and sometimes, rarely, she holds on so tightly to her because she knows it is inevitable that she will lose her to them and it suffocates her, makes her eyes sting. She thinks about it, more than she should, even when she is trying not to and she knows she is going to go through that loss, eventually, and she is so scared of it).
So she clings to these little moments. She clings to them and wants to remember every detail. Parker is quiet as she touches her face, always bruised, always cut, somehow. Nothing this time but a little red mark above her eyebrow, some silly fall, probably. Only her small scar on her upper lip remains, a memory of childhood. Presses her cheek to her hand as she keeps it ready.
She rolls her eyes to Angel. Petulant, maybe. ]
No.
[ Definitely petulant and definitely not true. Whatever. She straightens up finally, shifts so that she can settle her chin on Angel's right shoulder, just barely. Watching the horizon again. Loops her right arm around her, to hold on the rail, hand by her left side. Trapping her there, but not really. Too soft to not to be pushed away if she wanted.
There is a long pause. A silence that stretches. Parker finally moves again, half hiding her face against her neck. ]
Don't go tomorrow.
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Her hands slip down and settle to the flat of Parker's shoulders, eyes searching her face, and she is smiling, as ever, her hair curling around her face, sweeping oddly with the breeze that weaves across the rooftops. It's peaceful, it's quiet, it's all theirs. She smiles for her, and just for her and no one else.
Lets her settle in close, the loose draping clothes getting pulled in tight to herself as she's trapped so comfortably, and for one second, one complete second, it's perfect.
Then Parker presses into her neck and she feels the question she so sweetly presses into her pulse, a thud straight to her heart and Angel stiffens sharp along her spine. ]
Don't ask me that.
[ Bird in a cage, her heart beats and beats and beats inside the bars of her ribcage. Swallowing down and there's too much there because she'd give her everything, she knows she would, except that. ] Anything else, just... just don't ask me that.
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She keeps her face where it is, presses it even closer to her neck. Hard to breath like that, but she doesn't care. Blows hot against her skin, shoulders dropping. Holds back her bite. Doesn't hold back anything else. ]
Don't go tomorrow.
[ Says it again, but smaller. Like sharing a secret. Her fingers hold on the railing so tight they turn white, but she still doesn't trap her and it should say so much, the body language. Begging her to stay, but not barring the exit. She can go, if she wants. She would not hate her for it. She couldn't. She would not blame her for it. All her bile would be for the brood. ]
Please.
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How can you ask me that?
[ Doesn't bother with foolish promises, that nothing will happen to her. Because it can. It always can. How many have they already lost? How many of their brood have been cut down and left now, how many new have hatched to not last past the first mission?
And for all that, because she is one that has survived, how could she not want to protect the others that come new now? To save them from this pain that would meet them one day anyway, but to put it off for them as long as she could, to work for the symbiote that lived as part of her. They needed her too, in their way, and Cathaway had promised her a family that wouldn't hurt her, and she was determined so much that this should all be better.
Not angry, but she might be later, not frustrated except that she keeps a lot of secrets and she never talks about herself, or her home, for a great deal of reasons and one of them in particular that she keeps away from even her brood.
Swallows, her brows knitted and her fingers grip her tightly, somethings set sharp in her teeth that makes her grit them. This hurts, this hurts too much. It's not fair. To either of them. ]
You don't you know what you're asking.
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She will be alive for it, but she won't be Parker's anymore. Because she can't-- won't let herself be part of the hive, of the brood. Won't, won't, won't. It makes her sick just to think of it. Even if it meant-- even if it meant to stay with her a little bit longer.
She is doing what she told herself not to do. To become an obstacle. But what hurts more is the fact that she knows well that for Angel, the choice is easy (and how hypocritical of her to feel hurt by it, when her own choice of keeping her distance comes as easy, if not more so - but it is just heartbreaking to know that it will always be like that for her, that every thing she attaches herself to, she is loyal to, will always eventually be taken away).
Her shoulders shake a little bit. Almost imperceptible, but how could she not see it when her heart is wrenched so tight in wires under her burning chest? Can feel the corner of her eyes wet, trying to close them so tight it almost gives her a headache. ]
Choose me. Just this once. Just this once.
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But she wasn't -- it is just that, hypocritical, and if there was one thing she could not stand --
She stops leaning into her then, her back going stiff and straightening. Not pulling away from her, not yet at least but there's a sharp line to her. Choose her? She swallows stiffly. She will be calm, she was always calm, but that didn't mean that there wasn't something knotting in her chest tightly. Something so brittle there, able to shatter, there always has been between them. ]
Fine. [ Her hands are still set against her shoulders, her face turned up but there's something flat, flat, flat there. The crackle of heaviness to her words. ] I won't go -- [ she won't be pushed, she won't be guilted, and this feels so much like that. It turns over in her stomach, bile in her throat. ] -- when you try and spend some time with the rest of the brood instead of forcing us all away.
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But she knows she can't have that. She knew the answer before it was spoken. Her hands still hold on the railing, so hard it hurts, metal digging into her skin. Her face still pressed to her neck and she holds her breath because she doesn't even trust herself to breathe anymore. ]
I can't.
[ And from her voice, she can't hide the sob that comes with it. She is alone and she will always be, because that is the way it has to be (the way she has made it be). It is the only way to fight, to keep the will of the self, to hold on so adamantly to all her ideals and memories and she doesn't want to forget any name, any detail-- any part of Angel either.
It doesn't make a difference how hard she closes her eyes because the tears push through anyway. She never cries. Not often, not as much as she should, but it's too much. All of the immensity of it. She keeps her face against Angel even if she leans back. Why does it have to be her to go? Why is it always the people she needs that have to go?
What a selfish thing it is to think like that. But she is so tired of letting go. It hurts so much, every time. ]
Why won't you ever choose me?
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No, she doesn't understand. Angel goes still, still, still, under her. Not affection, not pulling away because what can she say, really? The hot wet splash she can feel against her neck, and she fights to keep her words even. ]
This isn't just about that, Parker.
[ It's bitten out, this, this isn't - ]
I told you, you don't know what you're asking.
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She doesn't push further even though that is what she wants to do. Wants to step in her and feel her scent and her warmth. But she keeps still where she is, because Angel is pulling her hands away and she can feel her want to push her off. She doesn't blame her. But she hates them so much, right then. Why do they get to keep her if they don't even want her as she is? She hates herself for wanting to keep her as she is. Angel is her own person and it is not fair to ask her for these things. But she does anyway because she can't help herself, feels like drowning in emptiness, feels like trying to hold on burning rope: against time, for it will eventually disintegrate under the flames.
She finds it in herself the strength to lean back. Tries, really tries, to look up, but can't, eyes shiny and red, pink nose and ears. Can't-- can't look at her because it hurts that she never gets to be chosen, never gets to be hers because she would rather share. Parker is not being fair, but fairness is not always right. ]
Then what?
[ She wipes, frustratedly, at her eyes, but it doesn't quite work to stop the tears. ]
Tell me why am I so wrong.
[ It doesn't matter. She doesn't want to really hear it. She knows already. She wishes for a moment that Angel would shove her away (has every right to). It would be easier that way. ]
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Presses her lips together, and it is so, so quiet, what she knows is worse, than whatever it is Parker fears would happen to her. That the hive would consume her, and no doubt, one day she would make that sacrifice. But in that way, she would always be part of the hive. ]
Because I'm dead, Parker, the symbiote is the only thing keeping me alive. My father ruined me, he destroyed my body so utterly and my life meant nothing, that what the hive has done for me is the only reason I am with you now. I can't risk my body rejecting it, or it rejecting me.
[ She can't be sure what causes it, why some of them go to sleep, but she was determined with all of herself to keep hanging onto this chance of life that she had been so utterly denied. She wouldn't risk the chance that it ended a day too soon. This - all of it - was too precious, that for the first time in her life she could truly help the people she cared about. That she could kiss Parker until her body went numb with it - it's all because they had taken her away, given her this moment.
And now, she does push away, side-stepping out from under her, her arms tucking in close to her and shut herself away. It's done, it's just... done. She doesn't have anything else to say really. ] I'm... I'm going to go, okay?
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[ Whatever she was expecting, it definitely was not that. Something about loyalty to the hive, to Cathaway, whatever. What comes out of her mouth is so raw and unfiltered, it hits her like an iron fist, rips the air out of her lungs. Tears still dropping, uneven stream down her cheeks, her eyebrows climb up slowly on her forehead and her eyes widen in shock. Doesn't know which feeling to pinpoint in that moment.
Only a beat after it is clear which one is spreading from her chest to the rest of her. Anger flares and she can barely contain it behind those immense walls, seeping through the smallest crack, climbing up like a disease. Not to Angel, no, but to her situation and to the hive and how dare they prey on the weak, pretending to be giving them a chance when really they are just chaining them to an eternal prison of servitude and mindlessness.
Parker feels like... Well, mostly like an asshole, but also decisively at loss for words. Her eyes searching Angel's quickly then, like in panic, and she wants to-- Oh, she has no idea what she wants. Feels sick and helpless and hates the feeling of not being able to do anything. Conflicted and robbed of hope: whatever had been hiding deep down, that maybe she could make Angel see that there were other ways away from the hive, all gone.
She can't breathe for a second and has to crouch, pressing her forehead to her knees, slowly slipping her hands over her head, into her hair, gripping too tight, until it hurts. Shoulders shaking and she has no idea what to make of it. Doesn't say anything when Angel starts to move away. For a long time, too.
Then she finally finds her voice, hoarse and sticky, tongue dry and throat raw. ]
Don't go.
[ She could say a thousand things. She could say nothing. She could demand answers. Demand why she did not tell her before. But she chooses to beg into her jeans. Does not chase her because it is not right, would never do that.
But the thought of her gone is too much. The absolute certainty that she will never have anything else but this. The inevitability that they will break away one day, getting closer to that moment each second that goes by. Parker is anger and sadness and loss and terrifying loneliness, all in that second. ]
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She pretends so often to be a qualitative force, all soft-spoken words to help others in their grieving, but she has never stopped to do the same for herself. Her eyes down, feeling an acrid taste in her mouth. This is it, isn't it? This is what they will be.
She never wanted any of this, she had only wanted to snatch her life for seconds that she never got, she only wanted to have happiness and everything in between that she had never felt. Something tears itself up inside of her as she kneels in front of her for awhile, still at a loss, she just can't stand to see her curled up little like this.
Swallows, her fingers hover without touching, not sure how to. She feels vulnerable and open. ]
Please... please, look at me?
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She feels her settle in front of her but doesn't-- can't move. Trying to breathe in. Breathe out. Fingers so tight in her hair she might just rip it out. Knows, knows so well, knows too much, that this is what they are and all they can be and nothing more, nothing less. How they will always walk the tight space of distant threads that are so tangled up any pull on them makes them tighter and painful. She never wanted to be more, never wanted for this to happen. She didn't want her kindness nor her warmth. But Angel had given her that, more, more, and Parker kept chasing it. Like running a straight line in the dark with no direction. Always trying to reach but never quite fully there.
Parker doesn't look up. She falls forward. Scrapping knees on the ground, but that is only normal. Curls her fingers around the front of Angel's jacket and keeps herself there. Touching but at a distance. Her whole body weighs like sinking steel. Clings to her clothes, tight under curled fingers, head down. ]
Don't go.
[ She says again in a sob, in a small voice, in a nothingness of a whisper. Looks up to her, eyes wet, shiny, red. Feels so-- betrayed, but knows she has no right to feel like that, she has her own secrets, with so many walls, but it hurts that she didn't know, that she only told her because she pushed and it shatters through her like glass, cuts like shards, bleeds tiny cuts everywhere. ]
I need you.
[ Selfish coward. Weak, worthless, guilty. And yet she still gets to be the one that lives. ]
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It's mess, they're a mess, and it's the same raw breath she takes in deep like she was dying all over again. ]
I'm here, I'll always be here with you.
[ She has nowhere else to go, that much is obvious now. This is her, beginning middle and - no end, she knows now, but an infinity. Across a thousand screens and a thousand machines and in the long echoes of the hives memories, it is where she will be.
She is thankful of the hive, not hateful of it. Long ago, she was asked if this felt like freedom to her - but the thing was, Cathaway had never lied to her. She said she could make this place a home, a family of her own, and she had, made up for all her own empty spaces, and taught her what it was to be needed for herself, not for her use. ]
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The words sting more than they help. Always here. She knows. Parker frowns, gripping tightly on to Angel. It is closer to the absolute truth than she wants it to be. She will always be part of this thing. Parker has yet to quit searching for a way out (one of those secrets), has yet to give up on finding a way to peel the symbiote from her. And nothing could stop her from trying - except death.
She lets herself stay there, anchor in Angel, shoulders trembling with each stronger sob, muffling shaky, breathless gasps into her chest. Maybe part of her wished she could take Angel with her, maybe she just thought that she could take away the symbiote from everyone, let it rot somewhere. A pure rejection of it. Diseases use bodies as hosts. It is nothing more than a parasite. But she can't, now.
Angel is there, now, then, and so Parker keeps still for it. Wraps her fingers around her wrist, holding on. And she stays there, not moving, not wanting to move. Wanting to keep the memory of her intact. Trying to take in Angel's kindness and warmth and calmness in to her soul, and maybe that will ease the pain, but the only thing that does is her presence and her existence and how it shortens every day it passes. And if she can have her arms near one more time, she will take it. ]
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Can think of nothing, for awhile, watching the suns move above them. Then idly, drawing her fingers through her hair, dark against her pale fingers. ]
I am sorry you had to find out. I never thought... it would ever come up, I guess.
[ She had wanted so much to pretend that her old life held no sway over her. She had shed it, burned it all from herself like the phoenixes they so often called sirens. Maybe not that she had been born free, so much as just born again. A different life that was all her own now. She was content, to just it all go. ]
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But she hasn't accepted and it is why it hurts so much. Parker presses her face tighter against Angel's shoulder as the ache spreads over her, doesn't go, clings to her like tar. She slips her arms around her waist, flattens her hands against her back. Feels-- sorry. Feels for her. Feels bad about all of this and most of all, hates that she can do nothing to help Angel and is so jealous the hive has given her an answer (not that she would know her if she hadn't, but for all her logical side, Parker often thinks with her heart).
She opens her eyes, cheek against her shoulder, as she stares off into nothing. The horizon of the tall buildings, all alien and pretty. Pain still swirling, but pushing it slowly inside of her. Swallowing it down and into her chest, where it burns and transforms into anger. But not now. Now she is just-- aching. Parker leans her head back slightly, pressing her nose to her cheek. Doesn't say anything because she has nothing to say (never has the proper words anyway). Brushes her lips to her soft skin. Takes in her scent and god, she wants to memorize it forever. ]
I'm sorry.
[ And it has been years since those words have left her mouth. But she is not apologizing for what it is, or what it was. She is apologizing for what will inevitably be. ]
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[ It's the last thing she wants anyone to tell her, her face turning into Parker's cheek, a smooth motion as she nuzzles back into her.
There's a lot more to it, other than she died, other than she had been alive, other than the hive had given her a way out of her own fate. Because she had been ready to do, it's not like it had snuck on her, she had years and years of watching, waiting, knowing and accepting what had happened to her. ]
I spent years, watching others, my whole life, in fact. So much misery and so much death. Because that's what Pandora is. [ It's murmured softly, quiet like secrets maybe should be and she has far, far too many of them. ] I learned that eventually what was and could have been doesn't really matter, to what you do now.
[ and Parker - Parker more than anything, made her happy, made her feel whole and wanted and she is just as selfish with that want. A greediness that only loneliness makes as she turns into her. ]
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Parker brings one of her hands up to wipe her face, eyes and nose and cheek a shade of red and pink. Her other hand curls its fingers around her jacket like she doesn't ever want to let go (she will have to one day, but not now, not today, should, but can't, would make it easier the earlier she does but how could she, when she holds her like that and feels so warm and is so kind and so gentle and has her fingers in her hair and keeps her close, so close?). Lays her cheek back on her shoulder, facing her neck, so pretty and pale. Still hurt, still a heavy pain in her heart. Parker sighs through her nose, closing her eyes for a moment.
She should let go in that moment. Like ripping a bandaid. Easier when it's still early (but it is already so late). Sometimes she can feel it, the way there is more than Angel in there and it wrenches in her heart like poison. Watches across the room, sometimes, when she isn't looking, and it clogs in her throat, in the pit of her stomach. Every day a little harder to bear.
And then, she says things like that. Parker knows what her apology meant. Angel still does not. And one day she will, maybe, when she inevitably dives into her destruction. Somehow.
Parker lifts her head from her shoulder finally, eyes still wet and agonisingly sad. Looks over her face, her eyes, her mouth. Doesn't have it in her to say that she wants to rip away from all of this. That she might just become her own Pandora. There is no courage in her to speak such words. She slips a hand against the side of her neck, tracing her thumb over her jaw. Frowns, because it hurts. How can she let go of her when she has barely held on?
Instead, she can only beg. ]
You're here now. [ And in this moment, just for now, Parker wants to wrap around her and shield her from all the death and misery she will one day bring and she knows there will be no turning back, no forgiveness, but she keeps it a secret. For this one moment, she can keep it away from her.
She leans in, kisses her soft, barely a touch. Leans back again, to look to her eyes. ]
Stay with me tonight.
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It's coaxing, inviting into her own solidness. One kiss in a brush, and then another, her lips parting against hers, a soft barely there sound she presses into her because -- it's instant, quick pulsing light that shudders out of her. Echoing brightly, so utterly entranced so much by the contact and of having. Needful and open. Holding herself just so inside the brace of Parker's fingers.
Her eyes close, and she leans into her, as much as she leans. Some days she thinks she could be this warm for days, for Parker. ]
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She tries not to be, well, too much, but how could she not? Parker breathes softly into the kiss before pulling back just a fraction. Hovers over her mouth like that, looking up to her eyes. She has no idea why it affects her so, the way Angel is, the way she feels, the way she cares for her. Sweet and unashamedly so. Parker kisses her cheek once, lingering. Wants to tell her she is sorry and won't stop feeling like that for a long time and eventually will have to come to terms that it is a weight she is going to carry all her life (doesn't have to, could easily fall in to the hive and would accepted in a warm embrace, but it doesn't work like that for her, would not allow herself to lose agency, to lose her memories and her fight). Buries her face in her neck and breathes shakily, before pressing small kisses to her skin and for a moment that is all she wants, to adore her with her lips. Not the best place or position for it, but they are there and the moment is there and it is impossible not to hurt with it.
Parker leans back up to her lips and parts them around Angel's, not too intense about it but definitely wanting. And it lasts, lasts for a long time, as long as Angel will let her kiss her and slip her tongue in to her mouth. Not the kind of rush that comes with hot heartbeats, but a languidness that comes with longing. They should move, they should, but, ah, she is too warm and too comfortable in Angel's arms, safe and wanted and existing. ]
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Because this might be something she never dared to dream of but as Parker's kisses wonder across her skin, she arches for it, like she found so easy to do. Her fingers uncurling only to grip again, a little lower, sharp into her shoulders, holding her tightly to keep her there, kissing her, an echo of a word in her throat that is stillborn, formed and forgotten as she feels the brush of Parker's tongue in her mouth and rolls the line of her body in beckoning. Because she wants that pain, sweet as it is.
It's there, that she ought to press some sense into them. ( As much as the thought of letting Parker kissing her there is a vivid thought, as gritty and as detailed, of laying here, bared, in the sun like it's all theirs and everyone else could be damned - but she'd found out she had far less hang ups about that then Parker did ). Instead, she pulls away just barely, swallowing, lips reddened and wet and her eyes bright - ]
Find me somewhere where I can touch you?
[ Silly because, well she is, regardless, but she figures Parker can fill in the blanks. Because she wants to, oh she wants to, she adores her, it sings so brightly in her mind there's no mistaking that under current, she wants to pour over her, as if - as if she could make it all up, somehow, press quiet forgive me's into her dip of her ribs. Give her sharp, sharp memories, as real as her teeth dragging across her thighs. ]
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[ It seems that Angel always knows what to say or what to do, what to push in to her soul (that Parker is still so careful about, keeps it closed even around Angel - even if she is much more open to her than anyone else). Fingers in her hair and Parker is all weak and soft and easy for her, always is, pulling her closer with the hand on her back. Doesn't break from her lips, because she can't, afraid she will stop breathing if she does. Shifts into her, her hand around her shoulder going further out to wrap her fingers around the railing - again trapping her without closing off all the exits, still gentle and soft, not pushing but taking what she gives her so freely. Because it makes it easier, makes it less painful, and she doesn't feel it rip apart from inside if Angel keeps holding her, her fingers in her hair feel better than almost anything, the way she holds her close like that.
Parker tilts her head almost obediently to Angel's, following her kisses and her lips and drowns in it. In her.
It is impossible for Parker not to follow her mouth when Angel pulls back to speak, too close to not to give in to that temptation. But she lets her speak when her first words are pressed into her lips, slowly opening her eyes up to her. And it makes her heart race a little faster and swell up and sometimes she wonders just exactly how much does Angel know how her words affect her (she is sure she does, she knows well how to use them, better than bullets), how her words can make her do anything she asked her. Her eyes linger on hers, before they skim over to her lips again, exhale, back up to her again. Curling hair sticking slightly everywhere at the back of her head because of Angel's hand and that is perfect.
Saying what she is saying... Parker looks almost taken aback by her own keen want over just the thought of it. ]
Oh, I-- Okay. [ But she doesn't move right away, cheeks now not just red from her tears but from a bursting heart and a warmth that is all too familiar, that Angel can easily bring forth with a touch, with a word. ] We can go back to the quarters?
[ She almost, almost would let her pull her into her right there and then. It crosses her mind. Would do it, if Angel told her to, because she can't deny her anything, but there is definitely part of her that feels... Shy about it, would rather have the privacy, always been like that. ]
It's not far.
[ She lowers her eyes down her neck, watching, lower, twist in her belly. ]
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Her hands sweep up her back, fingers splayed wide and she swells with a deep breath - it's so tempting to roll her back now in a curled tight impatience and greed. But she bites her lip, stills the want, and nods slowly. ]
Alright.
[ It's an agony, to peel her fingers away, to drop her hands onto the ground, but it's as much as she can do, trapped there under Parker. Her eyes looking up at her face, patiently waiting for her to move off of her. Not in any hurry, regardless. ]
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