[ Keener blades could not cut as deep, as swiftly, as her words did. Each breathe, soft word, damning his soul deep. Not even Evie could deliver a harsher blow and she knows the best places to and her strikes. Jacob stills, muscles coiling, fingers trembling in the fists he did not register forming.
He is not cruel, he has never been cruel, yet here he stands before her in her fancy new home. A woman wed, a woman beyond his reach, a gentle and sweet creature he has no right to adore. ]
Not to you, love. [ Feet move, the distance between them seems so far but he crosses it fast. Hand uncoiling to take hold of her arm, a grip oddly gentle in it's firmness. ] Never to you.
[ With his free hand Jacob takes hold of her chin, angles her head - he should leave, pull himself away from the softness of her skin, gentle warmth of her body. He should leave before he does something stupid like take her lips with his own in a kiss neither gentle nor harsh, but a sad sort of in between.
Turn around, leave, go.
But how can he when he holds her so close with both hands and lips? ]
[ It's all so - so - a list of things for women who haven't done the things she has. Haven't been forced to watch and accept the world for what it was before she understood almost anything else. It's cliche, it's poetry for knights and ladies, and he's a killer and she's at best, traitor, dishonorable woman. Neither of them deserve getting what they want even for a moment, in a way that isn't just some encroaching self pity. It's the surety: this will end in blood and hurt for both of them. Neither of them are coming out from this in one piece.
But she doesn't need to tell him that. He knows, he must know, he's reckless and dangerous but no fool. Or maybe they were worse, because here they were - doing it all anyway. Because it's not a question that he would be cruel, and it's not a question that she would let him. That in the second he's reaching for her, she's stepping into it. The second to know - know there's going to be only pain that follows every moment spent like this - and it disregard it for the sharp inhalation of breath as her hands loosen their grip at her throat, and shift to his shoulders. Taking hold in his jacket, and parting her lips against him in something that is firm in return. That is at odds that the softest, softest noise she makes in the back of her throat, because no, it had not been her loneliness embellishing. It feels more than just good, yes, yes it hurts, because that's better. It's something more than she's ever had and it doesn't loosen her hold on him.
He won't let her go and she doesn't know how to let him. So maybe it's all - fair, in it's way. ]
[ For all his jovial nature, the righteousness of the Assassin's cause, he is still a killer. A talented murderer who has more blood upon his hand that most. Dangerous blood, wrong blood, the life force of men who would run the world into a muck filled ditch enslaving all of humanity to their goals - but blood all the same. He has no right to touch her, no right to chase the hems of her skirts and steal secret kisses. And yet he does. Selfishly, foolishly, takes what he has no right to take, no right to even touch. For he is little more than a foolish man, never looking upon the destruction he brings down with each step he takes.
Evie chides him on it but he still does not see, just as he does not see now the damage he causes. Whatever comes of it... neither of them will walk away clean nor whole. Something will break, fray, see them both bloody and wounded - it is the nature of such things. But why should he care with her warmth so close, her hands curled into his jacket? Heavy as his heart feels it is lifted, lighter, a sort of victory dancing upon his tongue as she takes as much as he. He lets her, of course, moves only to encourage her lips, her hold.
[ She pours it all into him, all her longing, all her tenderness that ached, like a locked up bird song, a lark bursting to get out. Comes rushing up to her mouth, out of her lips, into his. Her fingers find his hair, cupping the back of his neck in the splayed set of her fingers on his skin. Slipping below the edge of his high collar. ]
See, [ it's a second, where she has to take her breath, has to suck in low because her lungs are burning and her eyes are burning and her skin is burning - ] I told you, you're cruel to me, assassin.
[ Sharp little inhale-exhale, swallowing to try and wet the creak in her voice smooth again. ]
[ And he takes every inch of it, accepts her longing and tenderness, drinks deep until his lungs burn with the need to breathe. For a moment he wants nothing more than the thrust his blade into her husband's heart, for a moment he wants nothing more than to thrust his blade into her father's heart. Free her from the shackles that chain her to this place, to this life that sees her caged and alone.
Her fingers are gentle in his hair, against his skin, yet her very touch scorches him. An exquisite sort of pain that he can barely describe. ]
As you are to me, miss. [ There are so many ways to stop this, all she would have to do is act. ]
[ She withdraws so very carefully, her fingers slipping down his chest, and that last step is hard to withdraw in the last instance. Pressed flat over his beating heart that if she slows herself, she could match breathing too. Her lips part where they feel full, all blood rushed to the surface. Eyes lowering. Hurting each other, as is fair, she'd never hurt anyone so directly before - and there's a rush in that too. ]
We should...
[ Stop, probably, but she doesn't want to, she never wants to again. Even as she knows he'll leave, she wants him to stay. Her fingers curl up a little. ] ... let this be. [ Let go, says it again, like this time if she wills it, so it will be. Just let go. ]
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But she doesn't need to tell him that. He knows, he must know, he's reckless and dangerous but no fool. Or maybe they were worse, because here they were - doing it all anyway. Because it's not a question that he would be cruel, and it's not a question that she would let him. That in the second he's reaching for her, she's stepping into it. The second to know - know there's going to be only pain that follows every moment spent like this - and it disregard it for the sharp inhalation of breath as her hands loosen their grip at her throat, and shift to his shoulders. Taking hold in his jacket, and parting her lips against him in something that is firm in return. That is at odds that the softest, softest noise she makes in the back of her throat, because no, it had not been her loneliness embellishing. It feels more than just good, yes, yes it hurts, because that's better. It's something more than she's ever had and it doesn't loosen her hold on him.
He won't let her go and she doesn't know how to let him. So maybe it's all - fair, in it's way. ]
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Evie chides him on it but he still does not see, just as he does not see now the damage he causes. Whatever comes of it... neither of them will walk away clean nor whole. Something will break, fray, see them both bloody and wounded - it is the nature of such things. But why should he care with her warmth so close, her hands curled into his jacket? Heavy as his heart feels it is lifted, lighter, a sort of victory dancing upon his tongue as she takes as much as he. He lets her, of course, moves only to encourage her lips, her hold.
Whatever comes next will be worth it. ]
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See, [ it's a second, where she has to take her breath, has to suck in low because her lungs are burning and her eyes are burning and her skin is burning - ] I told you, you're cruel to me, assassin.
[ Sharp little inhale-exhale, swallowing to try and wet the creak in her voice smooth again. ]
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Her fingers are gentle in his hair, against his skin, yet her very touch scorches him. An exquisite sort of pain that he can barely describe. ]
As you are to me, miss. [ There are so many ways to stop this, all she would have to do is act. ]
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We should...
[ Stop, probably, but she doesn't want to, she never wants to again. Even as she knows he'll leave, she wants him to stay. Her fingers curl up a little. ] ... let this be. [ Let go, says it again, like this time if she wills it, so it will be. Just let go. ]