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+---- Thread: and now my bitter hands cradle broken glass (/showthread.php?tid=5631)
and now my bitter hands cradle broken glass - Locke - 05-27-2021
This is one of those do we really want to do this now kind of things. Sadly the answer is yes. It's always yes. Maeve needs to get it done and it seems like there's an imaginary clock ticking now. So he's standing on the sand next to a goat. The goat is not jazzed about being here but it's fine. It'd be less jazzed if it understood what was about to happen to it. Poor thing has a rope around it's neck as it grazes. He's got the other end in the better of his two hands and a dagger in the other. He's only dropped it like twice.
Now he's just waiting for her to show up. If she comes. He has a feeling that of all of her little tasks, this is the one she dreaded the most. Doubly so now with the thing with Atlas. Either way, it's gotta be done so she might as well ride the wave of emotion from that. Killing something shouldn't be taken lightly after all.
RE: and now my bitter hands cradle broken glass - Maeve - 05-28-2021
He's not wrong. Maeve is dreading this. She had been before, but now it weighs heavier on her shoulders. It feels like there is ash still in her lungs and blood still on her hands despite how many times she's scrubbed them raw. Maeve heads up the trail to where Locke told her to meet him, steps heavy and stomach turning almost violently with trepidation as her boots sink into the ashy sand mixture that makes up the path. This is necessary. She can't avoid it. If she's going to be a tool of use to those in her life then she needs to do this.
Maeve finally pushes through the underbrush, breaking into the small clearing where Locke and the goat she's meant to kill are waiting for her. She manages a wane smile, approaching him slowly as she draws in a breath, [say]"Hey... Thanks for doing this for me."[/say]
RE: and now my bitter hands cradle broken glass - Locke - 05-29-2021
He returns the almost smile as she approaches. There's a somber air and he's not sure how to feel about it. [say]"No worries."[/say] He wonders why she asked him, maybe he'll ask when this is all said and done. For now he just wants it over with. He looks down at the goat and it bleats at him softly. He gives it a crooked smile as if it could understand how sorry he is. [say]"Do you wanna know her name?"[/say] He doubts it would make it easier but hey, it might.
He's nervous, mulling this all over in his head. How do you explain killing something to someone. Beyond doing it for food or self-defense. Just the simple, straight up act of killing? Sure, the goat isn't going to go to waste and Maeve has nothing to defend herself from but still. It's been bugging him since she asked him to do this. [say]"You gotta promise you won't hesitate."[/say] It's less a statement and more of a threat, an honest one. He might be an asshole but like hell is he going to let an animal suffer because Maeve bitches out.
RE: and now my bitter hands cradle broken glass - Maeve - 05-29-2021
He told her that he was going to be butchering a goat for their meals anyway. That he usually does this every other week. The goat was raised for the slaughter. That was the way of things and there was nothing to be done for it. Maeve's eyes dip down to the goat, drawing in a sharp breath, [say]"I didn't think they named them..."[/say] She muses softly, confused as to why they would give a name to an animal that wasn't going to live long after maturity. Doesn't that just make it harder? The idea that this she goat has a name definitely makes it harder for her.
The sudden shift in tone has her eyes snapping back up to his, sea glass green meeting golden hazel as a dark cloud seems to block out the light that normally fills her. She can't hesitate. She knows this. It would be inhumane. Maeve has to kill something, but she doesn't think that Safrin wishes the creature to suffer. Hesitating would insure that. A slow, painful death. That certainly isn't how she wishes for things to go. Maeve nods at him gravely, jaw set as she reaches for the dagger. [say]"Tell me where I'm supposed to cut. The best way to do this. I- I don't want to make it harder for her."[/say] She knows it won't always be like this. She won't get to make death pretty. Maeve wasn't the Lullaby. The Madame wouldn't be able to send them off in sweet dreams and warmth. That wasn't her place.
No, death by her hand would be bloody. There wouldn't be a sweet fade to black if it came down to it. Whatever death she brought would be nothing of the sort.
RE: and now my bitter hands cradle broken glass - Locke - 05-29-2021
Locke watches her struggle and wishes he could do it for her. But he can't. They'd have to go through all of this again and he doesn't want that. Not for her, not for himself, not for the goats. He nods softly as she speaks, [say]"They're not just slabs of meat, Mae. They've got personalities and feelings too."[/say] Might be a harsh thing to say when she's about to kill it but it's true and he's never not been blunt.
When she reaches for the dagger, he pulls it back, clicking his tongue softly. [say]"Don't fucking hesitate."[/say] It's barely more than a hiss as he hands the dagger to her. It's been freshly sharpened, professionally too. He's setting as much of this up in her favor as he can. As much as he thinks he's allowed. But she's gotta do the rest of it from here.
[say]"Just beneath the head, from jaw to jaw, there's two veins. You need to get them both and quickly. Get in deep as well. The blade is freshly sharpened so it shouldn't be too hard.."[/say] Physically at least. Emotionally? Mentally? He's not sure. He can do it easily enough but then again, he's never been as soft as she is.
RE: and now my bitter hands cradle broken glass - Maeve - 05-29-2021
[say]"It's not that I think that... I just didn't know they named them."[/say] Maeve mutters, tucking her chin towards her chest as if she'd been scolded, a faint flush rising to her cheeks. She knows why he's being so hard. Why he's being harsh. He has to be. It doesn't take the sting away. It's like he's angry and Maeve doesn't know if he's angry at her or the task. Maeve licks her lips as she reaches for the dagger, but he snatches it back, pinning her with cold eyes that are just as sharp as the blade. She's never been scared of him before, but in this moment her heart thunders in her chest, stomach turning violently. [say]"I won't."[/say] The hilt of the blade is pressed into her palm and she draws in a shaky breath.
Locke explains what she's meant to do. Where she's meant to cut and that she has to go deep. No hesitation. Just fucking do it. Cold, calculated, and clean. That's what she has to be now. Maeve turns the dagger over in her hand, feeling the weight of the blade as she looks at the goat. She feels like she's going to be sick, but she presses forward anyway, moving around to the side before suddenly moving to straddle the animal. Her legs tighten on either of its sides, trying her best to hold it in place as she brings the dagger to one side of its jaw in that place Locke told her to.
The blade slides in cleanly and to her credit she doesn't hesitate as her free hand grabs the underside of its head, baring the throat of the animal as she draws the blade across her throat. The goat bleats, jerking as its legs wobble before collapsing into the ash as blood gushes hot and thick down the front of the goat, but Maeve holds on. Tears slip down her own cheeks and she squeezes her eyes shut, trying hard to keep it together as the last of the life drains from the goat. Her hand holding the dagger is covered in blood. Hot, sticky, and slick as it gets between her palm and the hilt of the dagger.
Finally the goat stops twitching, collapsed in the ash and Maeve releases her, stumbling away towards the underbrush. Her stomach twists violently and before she has a moment to even stop it, she's heaving, palms braced against her knees as the contents of her stomach is spilled just like the blood of her sacrifice.
RE: and now my bitter hands cradle broken glass - Locke - 05-29-2021
He's sees the flash of fear and it makes him feel guilty. All of this does. For her, for the goat, all of it. But Maeve does what she's told and what feels like hours passes in seconds. The goat is dead, Maeve has done her duty to Safrin. It's over. Locke quickly double checks to make sure the goat is actually dead before pushing after Maeve.
One hand tangles in her hair, keeping it out of her face while the other braces against her arm. He shooshes her softly, trying to ease the pain. [say]"You did good. She didn't suffer more than she had to."[/say] His voice is soft, something reserved only for her. Really, it's a kinder death than some of her kind. Not every goat is treated to a freshly sharpened blade and a steady hand.
He holds her until she's done, whispering soft encouragement until she can right herself. His eyes dart between her's and the goat. Her white coat is ashy gray now in most places, sticky red in others. At least they'll eat well for awhile. [say]"Do you need some more time?"[/say] They don't have all day but they have a few moments, at least.
RE: and now my bitter hands cradle broken glass - Maeve - 05-29-2021
She's only alone for a moment. Maeve doesn't even realize he's joined her at first. Not until he's gently gathering her hair in one hand and keeping her steady with the other. His voice croons gently into her ear, soothing her, telling her that she did it right. That everything was over now. Maeve finally stops heaving, spitting the acid from her mouth and wiping with the back of her clean hand, but she draws in a ragged breath before she's finally straightening up. Her whole body feels cold, sweat beading on her brow, and her hands are still trembling. She swallows thickly, [say]"What do we have to do now?"[/say] The need to power through is the only thing keeping her upright. She doesn't want to be weak. Not after finally doing this.
Maeve looks up at him, tears still caught in her lashes, but she's trying to be strong. She hands him the knife, still bloody and sticky just like her hand is before she's squaring back her shoulders. Maeve sniffles, using her clean hand to brush tears away from her cheeks, but that lingering sickness continues to sit in her belly despite the brave face she puts on. She can't bring herself to look over at the goat where she lays in the ash, no longer breathing due to her actions.
RE: and now my bitter hands cradle broken glass - Locke - 05-29-2021
He presses the smallest of kisses to the side of her neck, stepping back as she stands. There's blood smeared down her leg now but he's not going to point it out. He takes the knife from her, cleaning it on his pants before tucking it away. His head tilts as she looks at him, resolute in her decision. [say]"Take her to be butchered properly. I can do it myself."[/say] Her part in all of this is done. And sure, he could butcher it himself, if he wanted. But ever since he hurt his hands, he hasn't been able to do it cleanly. Every day it gets a little better but he's a ways off from carving up his own meat again.
Locke sighs softly, reaching up to brush a thumb over her cheek. [say]"You did good, really. It'll be easier next time."[/say] And he hopes next time is a meal, a goat, anything but what this really stands for. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to the side of her jaw before turning away from her. He makes his way over to the goat, kneeling down and wrapping the cut with some fabric he brought just for this. He makes a point of keeping himself between Maeve's line of sight and the goat. Once she's all wrapped up, he carefully takes her in his arms.
[say]"Ready then?"[/say] It's a faceted question and he hopes she understands.
RE: and now my bitter hands cradle broken glass - Maeve - 05-29-2021
The kiss does something for her that she can't really name. It spreads a warmth through her chest, stopping the trembling in her hands and easing the way her stomach twists. He tells her that she doesn't have anymore to do. That her part in this is done. There was nothing left for her to do. It leaves a sense of relief to replace the sickness. Maeve manages a small nod, trying to clean off her hand on her pants, but she can't get it all off. Some of it is dried on her skin and under her nails, rusty red against pale flesh, nothing to be done for it now.
She manages to tear her eyes away from her hand, instead looking up into the familiar hazel of his gaze, leaning into his touch because she needs this. The softness in his eyes and the sweet gentleness in his voice. A look and a way of speaking he saves just for her. It's not something they've talked about. How different they are for each other. How much they hide away from the world. They only let certain walls and defenses down in the safety of each other. Something that Maeve hasn't really admitted to. This is different from everything else. Sunjata had been a whirlwind. So wrapped up in his own life and emotion that it was easy to get dragged along. Overwhelmed. Locke was a safe place in a storm. A steady rock that never gave way. The rest of the world broke around him and he kept her safe from it. Always steady and unwavering. To think that she had thought Sunjata could give her this was silly now. He was never meant to be her safety.
It seems so clear now with the way Locke is looking at her, cupping her cheek and offering her reassurance that she's more than willing to take. When he finally draws away she's left with a lingering warmth. There is a sudden urgency to tell him this. A need to speak, but he's moving to take care of the goat and she can't take this moment to do it. Maeve takes a breath, nodding slowly as she makes herself move to follow him back down the path. They split down at the bottom, Locke going to take the goat to the butcher and Maeve back to their shared home.
She showers as soon as she gets there, cleaning the blood from her clothes and skin before she's getting dressed in one of his shirts, never seeming to wear anything of her own when she's here. Despite the fact that her skin is clean of the blood it feels like that night all over again, waiting for him to come home. The only difference this time when she settles on the couch is that she knows he's okay even though he's not here with her.
RE: and now my bitter hands cradle broken glass - Locke - 05-30-2021
It's interesting, this need to take care of her, to be by her side. New in a way, but familiar too. He watches her sort herself out, giving her a half smile before leaving. Things always seem a little tilted after things like this but, she needed it. His trip to the butcher isn't as fruitful as he'd like. Turns out the ash kind of got everywhere. It's fine though. What isn't entirely salvageable is given to the pigs and dogs. Nothing is wasted.
When he returns, he's only got a small package of meat but it'll do for now. He'll pick up the rest tomorrow. He's not even sure if Maeve will want to eat this tonight. They'll sort it out. He finds her clean and curled up on his little couch, nowhere near the picture of the wannabe killer she was earlier. Then again, he doesn't ever think killing will be her first resort, or even second or third. No. Maeve takes care of people, she doesn't kill. But at least she knows she's capable of it now.
He holds up the little package to her, [say]"Dinner?"[/say] A crooked grin on his lips as he sets it in the little kitchen area. He pulls his shirt over his head as he walks towards her, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor. He leans over her, nudging his nose against her's before giving her a kiss hello. [say]"I should take a shower first though."[/say] There's still that soft, gentle tone to his voice. He's being delicate with her. The fear on her face earlier still lingers in the back of his head and he wants to make up for it in some way but hasn't found it yet.
RE: and now my bitter hands cradle broken glass - Maeve - 05-30-2021
Maeve was never made to be a killer. That wasn't even why she had asked Safrin for this quest. No, she asked so she could help those she cared about, but as much as she hates to admit it that might be killing at times. Even if it isn't what she wants to do. There might not be a choice and that's just something she has to accept. Maeve's head lifts when he comes through the door and she manages a small smile for him even as he holds up the package of meat. She won't turn her nose up at it, but she can't say that she's overly hungry right now. There is too much lingering from the events of the day to really allow any kind of comfort, but just seeing him puts her at ease. [say]"Maybe in a little bit."[/say] Maeve hums as a reply, straightening up a bit to watch him breeze into the kitchen, putting the meat into the little ice box he has before he's drifting towards where she rests on the couch.
It's easy to get distracted as his fingers curl at the hem of his shirt, discarding it haphazardly on the floor as he pads his way across the space. She's seen him shirtless plenty of times. He hardly ever even wears one anymore thanks to the Longheat sun, but she can't help letting her eyes run over him each time. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips as she leans her head back to accept his kiss, willing to let her thoughts drift for this one moment. They don't need to think about fires or slaughtering goats or gods. Not right now when they're tucked safely away behind these four walls. She only lets him draw back enough to speak as her fingers slip along his neck to tangle into the curls at his nape, keeping him close as her other hand finds his hip.
[say]"Want me to come with you..? Already got clean, but maybe I missed a spot or two."[/say] There is a suggestive quality to her voice as it dips into something sweet and crooning, enticing him to enjoy her the way so many others do. That pliant and agreeable creature who exists to please them. To make them happy. She doesn't slip into this with him often. There usually isn't a need to, but maybe it's just easier this way. To pretend for a bit. Except it doesn't feel right. He doesn't want her like this. As nothing more than a thing that exists for his pleasure. Still, the offer is made and all she can do is wait.
RE: and now my bitter hands cradle broken glass - Locke - 05-30-2021
He doesn't expect her to want to eat right away so he takes what she says easily. He's not sure if he wants to eat right now either. He can feel her watching him as he takes his shirt off and normally he would preen under the attention. But he's not feeling it now, even when her fingers curl at his nape and she keeps him close.
Her suggestion makes him hum softly and he leans forward kissing the tip of her nose. The part of him that wants the easy way wants to take her up on the offer. But the part of him that knows her, hesitates. He's fighting a mini war with himself before he acquiesces to his own desires. Partially. [say]"You can come but only if you wash my hair."[/say] He's still having a hard time with it. He wills the lust out of his voice though. He's not sure if sex would be useful to either of them right now, even if he wants it.
Honestly he's not used to her being like this with him. She's playful sometimes, silly others, even flirtatious but rarely is she outright sexual. Not since they've started dating properly. Some part of him wonders if he's doing something wrong, if she's losing her attraction to him. He doesn't think that's it though. But he's not sure. He grabs her wrists, slipping out from under her arms before pulling her up.
RE: and now my bitter hands cradle broken glass - Maeve - 05-30-2021
Maeve makes a soft noise in the back of her throat as he presses a kiss to the tip of her nose instead of her lips. It isn't what she was expecting and she's not sure if she's disappointed or not. She manages a smile when he pulls back. It's small, but it reaches her eyes and she nods, [say]"I think I can manage that."[/say] They're off kilter again. A weird in between that neither of them are entirely sure how to navigate. There isn't any heat in his voice. Nothing that gives away the way he might want her. There is a delicate balance to walk between the two of them. What feels like authentic flirtation and want as opposed to the front she puts on for others. Maeve isn't sure if he wants that too. Should she do more than she does already? Is this not enough?
His fingers wrap around her wrists instead, drawing her hands away from him and she sighs, trying not to seem deflated as he draws back from her. Maeve stands though, letting him tug her along towards the bathroom as she tries desperately not to think about the fact that they haven't properly been together since the fire. She draws in a breath, following after him slowly until they're both tucked into the small bathroom. Maeve waits for him to turn the water on before her fingers curl at the hem of her stolen shirt, hesitating to draw it over her head, unsure if he wants to do it or not.