( beside her, paul takes to her in his meticulous, considering way, godly fingertips by way of human-adjacent touches, following the line of her nose to her shapely lips, down her chin, down her throat, between her collar, tapping the center of her chest. almost idly asked, ) Would you like my head?
( she could indeed have it, not because she's a saint, but because paul would give it to her. or maybe in equal halves because she is a saint and paul is the lisan al gaib, and neither one of them have gotten used to the power of getting something without having to earn it first. like alina. she once told him he earns her by being kind to her, soft with her. there were softer actions to take than threatening (see: attempting) to kill her temporary beloved. that's not to say paul has any soft feelings towards spike, but he does have them towards alina, who deserves the best of what he is. and what is he? a billion molecules with a billion faces, all turned towards her, wherever she is. it's ironic that she's the sun summoner, because she is exactly like the sun, all living things turning toward and basked in her revelry.
not that you would know it now, mopey as she is. a not undeserved sentiment, considering how the house has toyed with her as of late. )
You can have it, if you like. If I become irredeemable to you. I'll give you my throat, just above the shoulders. ( this is commented idly, too — like it's obvious the only medicine to alina's loathing is a knife to the throat. too gorey, too unromantic. reverend mothers hiss in his ear, but all he can think about is his head turned into a goblet, alina's mouth against his bones on every swallow. ) I guess some small hurts are inevitable, if you think like that. It's. ( he sighs, stroking at the path of her skin just above her heart. ) It's hard for me to say anything is inevitable. I can see the path, most of the time — inevitabilities are just the choices I've made, the paths I've walked.
The big hurts are the wrong steps. I know before, with the wedding, it wasn't you purposely hurting me. There's little to forgive, because I feel no anger towards you. Just ... ( he moves his hand, cupped under her chin, thumb against her lips. to suck on. ) Longing. Like I want all your attention to be on me, always. And I like being obsessed with you, I like loving you this much. Any ache is worth it.
The point is, I'm sorry. About how I handled your affliction, and about how I spoke to you about Alia, back then. It was a mistake, and you deserve better from me. And you'll get it.
no subject
( she could indeed have it, not because she's a saint, but because paul would give it to her. or maybe in equal halves because she is a saint and paul is the lisan al gaib, and neither one of them have gotten used to the power of getting something without having to earn it first. like alina. she once told him he earns her by being kind to her, soft with her. there were softer actions to take than threatening (see: attempting) to kill her temporary beloved. that's not to say paul has any soft feelings towards spike, but he does have them towards alina, who deserves the best of what he is. and what is he? a billion molecules with a billion faces, all turned towards her, wherever she is. it's ironic that she's the sun summoner, because she is exactly like the sun, all living things turning toward and basked in her revelry.
not that you would know it now, mopey as she is. a not undeserved sentiment, considering how the house has toyed with her as of late. )
You can have it, if you like. If I become irredeemable to you. I'll give you my throat, just above the shoulders. ( this is commented idly, too — like it's obvious the only medicine to alina's loathing is a knife to the throat. too gorey, too unromantic. reverend mothers hiss in his ear, but all he can think about is his head turned into a goblet, alina's mouth against his bones on every swallow. ) I guess some small hurts are inevitable, if you think like that. It's. ( he sighs, stroking at the path of her skin just above her heart. ) It's hard for me to say anything is inevitable. I can see the path, most of the time — inevitabilities are just the choices I've made, the paths I've walked.
The big hurts are the wrong steps. I know before, with the wedding, it wasn't you purposely hurting me. There's little to forgive, because I feel no anger towards you. Just ... ( he moves his hand, cupped under her chin, thumb against her lips. to suck on. ) Longing. Like I want all your attention to be on me, always. And I like being obsessed with you, I like loving you this much. Any ache is worth it.
The point is, I'm sorry. About how I handled your affliction, and about how I spoke to you about Alia, back then. It was a mistake, and you deserve better from me. And you'll get it.
( imminently. any ache is worth it. )