faemused | Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post 2

[The edge of the fountain is familiar. It's a good place to sit, after all, in the near-endless summer of this place, surrounded by the loveliness of the gardens. The water is cool in her throat. It helps with the hurt in her voice and, somehow, the faint threat of new welling tears.

And Faramir's gentle voice, warm over the telling of happy days among men he trusted, is the surest sign of her absolute safety.

Ophelia allows herself to melt slowly into the half-fantasy of the distraction, asking for names to be repeated, tracing absent maps along the fountain beside her skirts, laughing softly at the joy of the moments Faramir honoured her by sharing. If she were truly only his, this is exactly how they would spend their evenings, she's certain. If her lot could be completely thrown with his, she would repeat these names and the stories she would cling to in their dull days apart.

Her smile feels far more settled on her lips as she finally sets down the cup again.]

-thank you.

[She looks more calm, feels more calm, and he smiles his relief at her for a moment.]

You are welcome.

[Carefully he reaches up a hand and brushes hair back from her face, his motions gentle and slow, for he does not know what she has suffered and has not forgotten that first, instinctive moment when she shied away from him. Impossible to forget that.

Impossible not to be concerned about what might have caused such fear and grief. He tries to hide it, but he is an honest man, and worry is still there in his eyes for all that he does not voice it.]

[His touch is easy to lean into now. The sigh in Ophelia's throat is utterly contented as she briefly allows her eyes to slip shut for a heartbeat.

This still feels right. This still feels safe and wonderful. This hasn't been tainted by the heavy hurts weighing on her heart.

The certainty helps keep her smile in place as she sits up properly again.] You make me... whole, Faramir.

[No matter what the rest of the world threw at her, apparently--which is a wonderful and terrible thing to learn.]

[She rests her cheek against the palm of his hand, her body language now expressing only trust. Faramir swallows hard as he takes in the sight, and the soft feel of her skin against his hand.]

If that is so, I am glad. And honored.

[He swallows again, slowly leans forward and places a gentle kiss on her forehead, unwilling to risk anything further without permission. But he rests his cheek against her head, after, his own eyes closing.]

And you--with you, I am at rest. As I am nowhere else.

[There is often a bittersweet edge to their time together, as the little lingering bits of practicality Polonius's children cannot avoid whisper in the recesses of her mind. Tonight, blessedly, the melancholy falls silent.

When she closes her eyes and feels the solid presence of Faramir beside her, cheek against her hair, all Ophelia can feel is the absolute joy of true comfort.]

If that is so, I am... elated. E'en now.

[Even with a new ache in her soul. Even with a life she must return to that grows harder to bear every day.]

I would have you always feel so.

[Faramir feels the bittersweetness more than ever. Usually he is more able to separate there and here while at the Library, to appreciate these times as the gift and respite they are. But now, with her pain still so near to mind, it is more difficult. His eyes remain closed, and he turns his face again so it rests against her hair, the scent of her filling his senses.]

I would have you always with me, could I but make it so. For as long as we both might live, and beyond it.

[The catch of her breath is soft and the twist of her fingers for firmer purchase is slight. The shift of her heartbeat is brief and the curl of her entire being against Faramir's chest is delicate.

The knowledge, after all, isn't startling. What feels new is having the thought fully crystallized between them.

There's nothing good that can come of actually pondering what life might be like if they could carve something proper out for themselves. The best thing to breathe in now is the simple comfort of being utterly assured that--even here, even now, at her absolute lowest--this remains real.]

I do feel it. Always, Faramir.

[It was a heartbeat away from being a proposal. He could still make it one--he would, despite all the barriers between them, even if their vows could only be made privately and kept in secret. He longs to.

But not so soon after such a hurt, whatever it was. He would not have her make such a choice, in his favor or against it, when she has been so recently in a state of turmoil and anguish. It would not be fair, nor honorable, to talk of such things now.

Instead he contents himself with holding her, smelling her hair and listening to her breath, as they are both allowed some moments of peace, of respite wholly unknown in their own homes.

It is a long while before he is able to make himself release her a little, until he leans away to look at her more fully. There is a small sorrow in his eyes, but he is calm otherwise.]

Come. You must be tired, and perhaps hungry. We should return inside and see what we can find to amend both those states.

In a moment, sweet my lord.

[He's right, of course. Now that her own body feels less far off, less oddly distant from herself, Ophelia is certain she's quite tired. Now that her stomach feels more settled into herself, she knows she ought to eat something, no matter how little she feels anything close to a pang.]

Please.

[For at least the next few heartbeats, it's far too important to study his features. One hand shifts to join her gaze in a careful examination of the lines of his face, the planes and valleys and myriad components of the man exactly as he is in this moment.]

I'm nourished here.

Ophelia...

[His heart aches in his chest, poised somewhere between joy and pain. Slowly he reaches up again and caresses her face, swallowing hard over a sudden lump in his throat. There is a longing in his eyes that he cannot hide--and perhaps would not even if he could.

Slowly, carefully--mindful that he does not know what happened to her, mindful that she may yet need to push him away, and that if she does he must respect it--he bends forward and kisses her, a soft brush of mouth on mouth, breathing in the sweetness and warmth of her breath.]

[The gentleness is a balm. The unquestioning loyalty of the gesture soothes something newly jagged in her heart.

What feels best, of course, is being able to pull her lips back from Faramir's after a heartbeat--and being able to kiss him again with the same lightness, without demand or nerves.

Slowly, Ophelia finds her breath against Faramir's lips. Slowly, her heart begins to beat more fully of its own accord.]

...a-all right.

[He stays so still, the same way he would in a forest when trying not to fright a deer or a fluttering bird. It is not unlike, though so much more important. All the same, deep down Faramir thinks it fortunate that he is a man of great self-restraint. Too much so, he has sometimes been told--but here and now it is serving him well, and he is glad of it.

She pulls away and returns, and he sighs relif at this small but pointed gesture of comfort and trust. One more time he brushes his lips over hers, then pulls back.]

Come, melda. You need rest and care. And in truth so do I, for these past days have been long, and longer ones await. We are both fortunate to have this respite here, I think.

[That, despite everything, pulls Ophelia fully to her feet. There are few enough moments together, and fewer still in which it's easy to smooth her fingers protectively through his hair and against his cheeks without reaching up toward his towering height.]

Will you rest, elskede?

[They're too alike, she knows. They would both burn themselves nearly to ashes caring for those they felt needed the attention, the gentleness, the devotion that they each held in the depths of themselves.

They'll rest together. They'll find their way back to something close to themselves together again.]

Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post 2

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DRAT I thought I'd answered this, sorry!

we got this slow jam

we sure do

/a million highfives

I love this pairing so frikking much.

surprising but perfect??

so perfect

let them live a soft life

Yes please.

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