i won't let you choke on the noose around your neck

[videres]

ᴡʜᴏ: Morgana & Gwaine
ᴡʜᴀᴛ: Valentine's Shenanigans.
ᴡʜᴇɴ: Feb. 11th - 13th
ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ: Morgana's now Valentine's themed room. CURSE YOU CASTLE.
ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ: ... THINGS HAPPENED. RATING GONE UP TO R. JUST TO BE SAFE.




[ When she wakes it is with a start, body tensing as her eyes snap open. She's not a deep sleeper, not like a long shot, unless thoroughly exhausted. So how he managed to climb into her bed without her waking is a mystery to her. Even more so than why he would come all the way from the town just to--

Sitting up suddenly, she pulls the blankets to herself, shuffling towards the edge of her bed in an attempt to put space between them. ]

Gwaine. [ Wake up. Now. And please get the hell out of her bed. ] Gwaine.

Comments

[impetuous]

[ His smile widens at the kiss. He does not raise a hand to his cheek, but the area she touched feels oddly warm. ]

It's only fitting: a flower for a rose. [ He stands in order to stretch. ] What would you like? As your uninvited guest, I am at your command, my lady.

[videres]

[ She tucks the flower nearly into her hair, a little above her ear, and tilts her head. At her command? Those words can be dangerous. ]

At the moment, nothing. I am fairly content.

[impetuous]

[ He picks at one of the glittery hearts and makes a face when his hands come away covered in glitter. ]

Now I see why everyone seemed so suspicious of the date. Does the castle do something for this day every year?

[videres]

[ Her smile drops, annoyance moving in to replace it. ]

Unfortunately, yes. Although it is generally less intrusive than this.

[impetuous]

What has it done?

[ OH YE GODS THE GLITTER IS STUCK TO HIS HANDS D: ]

[videres]

Last year it was these... candies with writing on them, were people foolish enough to eat one they would be compelled to do whatever the writing depicted with whomever they laid eyes on.

The year before that, I believe, it gave us all bows and arrows. [ She shifts, her demeanor changes, becoming uncomfortable and closed off in a matter of seconds. ] Whoever got hit with the arrows fell in love with the person who shot them.

[impetuous]

What? [ He scoffs as he tries to scrape the glitter off his palms. ] Compelling actions and forced love.

[ His tone when he says "forced" is dark. He still recalls Julia's face that morning when their loss ended. It is an expression he does not want to see again, much less on someone like her. Shaking his head, he glances at Morgana. ]

This place really h—are you all right?

[videres]

I'm fine. [ Too quick. She frowns, scolding herself and shaking her head. Far too quick. Even after so long the memories are still fresh, still able to make her skin crawl. ]

I do not have pleasant memories of the holidays past.

[impetuous]

[ He can only guess as to what happened, but his mind is all too ready to supply him with terrible situations. He observes her quietly for a moment. When he clears his throat, he does not ask for details and he sounds like he is speaking more to himself than Morgana. ]

No. I suppose many wouldn't.

[videres]

[ She is relived more than he'll ever know. The memories are not ones she ever wants to relive, or speak of ever again. Inhaling she forces herself to relax, this is not going to be like that, it won't. She may very well come out of this with memories she will cherish rather than memories she will want nothing more than forget. ]

Indeed.

[impetuous]

[ He scrubs at his hands. He finally makes a frustrated sound when the glitter still stubbornly clings to his skin. ]

What are these things?

[videres]

[ Wonderful, a distraction. Blinking she gets up and moves over to him, taking a hold of one of his hands to take a look.

When she does she cannot help but laugh a little. ]

It is glitter.

[impetuous]

Glitter. [ Wonderful. Now. Onto the pressing matter at hand. ] How do I get it off?

[videres]

Try washing your hands. [ To help, as she is the most helpful, she wishes up a bowl of warm water, soap and a towel try dry his hands on. ]

[impetuous]

[ Oh, yeah, most helpful. He will believe it when she doesn't tell anyone about the glitter. Which is coming off in the soapy water. Oh, it's coming off! ]

Who came up with this? [ So he can run them through? B| ]

[videres]

[ It is safe with her! Honest. She won't tell a soul. Not a single one that Sir Gwaine was not long defeated by a door and a window, but he was also attacked brutally by glitter. ]

I'm afraid I do not know.

[impetuous]

[ ...He won the battle against the glitter. Don't forget that in your not-telling. ]

What's the purpose of this? It just sticks everywhere.

[ After he's satisfied he's got the the glitter off, he dries his hands off on the wished-for towel. The wished-for, red towel with an almost glittery godawful heart on it. ]

[videres]

[ Yes yes, of course he did. ]

Perhaps that is its purpose. I have only seen it a few times, usually on decorations. [ Like the god awful towel and stuff littering her room. ]

[impetuous]

[ He scowls petulantly at the room's decor. ]

After this, if I never see it or this much red and pink in one place, it will be too soon.

[videres]

That is a sentiment I thoroughly agree with.

[impetuous]

[ He does his best to not throw the towel aside. He has to remind himself constantly Morgana is present; it will not do to lose his temper in front of her. He knows how quickly violent he can become and he knows how frightening that can be to witness even when you are not the target.

But he feels so trapped.

He knew he was so—the locked door and windows were not subtle—but it is now that he can feel the weight of imprisonment dragging across his skin. And it is not just now. He fled his home to avoid the obligations thrust upon him. He refused to serve a king he did not respect. Every step since then has been his choice. He went where he wished; he did as he liked. There was nothing and no one to dictate his route except him. If asked about fate, he would have arrogantly claimed it did not exist; life was one's choices and one's choices alone.

Being brought here, being made a mere puppet on impersonal and uncaring strings that invade every aspect of his life...

He hates this place. He hates it more than he has ever hated anything. And he hates it all the more for having people he cannot help but give a damn about. People who no longer or have not yet come to exist in his world. People he will never know there, not like he can here.

He abruptly stalks away from Morgana and heads for the window. Resting his hands against the sill, he leans his weight against them. His eyes shut, his shoulders inching together in tension. Try as he might he cannot stop the feeling like walls closing around him. It is as unwelcome as it is unfamiliar and he is all the more ashamed that this is happening and someone is here to witness it. ]

[videres]

Gwaine? [ Her thoughts begin to stir, worry and fear grip them as they spiral down. Wondering did she do something cause this? Self-centered thoughts. She chides herself for them. Stupid.

There is much she doesn't know about him, neither of them have been very open about themselves around each other. There could be a number of reasons for him to act like he did, reason she can only guess with what limited knowledge she has of him. It may be the trapped feeling that scratches on the edge of her mind, that inescapable feeling she can never shake.

She has had time to come to terms with her cage, but she never reconciled with it fully. Only accepted it to a point.

With a hesitant step she walks over to him, gaze glued to his back watching the tension build. She discards words, placing a hand on his back, gentle with the silent promise of comfort. Of support. It's all she can do, all she can offer. After a moment she steps closer, her hand remaining where it is, until finally her forehead joins her hand. ]

[impetuous]

[ He raises his chin slightly at the sound of his name. He begins turning his head—and stops. He does not know what to tell her when he faces her. Sorry you're stuck with me? Not much he can do about it. Give me a minute? It sounds too much like admitting a weakness. Leave me be? Where the hell could she go seeing as they are locked in together? Don't…? Don't what?

He startles when he feels her hand on his back. He had not felt or heard her approach. He freezes, feeling oddly like the prey caught in the eye of a hunter. When she rests her forehead against him, he lets out a breath he did not know he was holding. Gwaine inhales, eyes closing again as he crosses a hand to the opposite shoulder to find hers. Fingertips over fingertips, just the lightest brush to acknowledge her presence. The words–half-formed, unordered, senseless–catch in his throat. He cannot explain how her warmth and steady pressure against him are comforting so he does not try. He settles for the whispered caress of his fingers over hers. ]

[videres]

[ It astounds her when he doesn't shrug her off, when instead she feels his fingers brush over hers. She exhales softly, relief washing over her like a flood. Those ridiculous fears of rejection melting away into nothing. She closes her eyes, making no effort to move away, a thumb brushing faintly over clothing. A reminder, a confirmation that she won't be going anywhere anytime soon. He can take all the time he needs. ]

[impetuous]

[ It does not take him too long. As much of a relief as it may be, it is only a reminder that he has a witness. Inhaling, he swallows thickly and finally turns around. He has not let go of her hand, almost cradling it in his as he faces her. They are still very close together as he raises her hand to his mouth to press a kiss to its back. ]

I apologize for my behavior, my lady. It shan't happen again.