buy yourself another day

[impetuous]

Who: Gwaine and you
What: Random encounters
When: Saturday morning
Where: Near the gallery in town


[ Wearing modern clothing for once (sweatpants and a T-shirt that aren't his), Gwaine bounces a small, pink ball against the wall. Whenever it strikes something—wall, ground or his hand—lights arc inside it. A curious little toy, but Gwaine barely looks at it. He sits on the middle step, eyes unfocused. To any observer, his mind appears to be elsewhere. He has managed to recover a semblance of healthy coloring, but the bags under his eyes mark how fitful his sleep remains. He finds it difficult to concentrate on even simple tasks. Thus he misses his next catch and the ball bounces against the door behind him. It rolls away from him. ]

Comments

[impetuous]

Do you really believe that is all you are?

[scinlae]

I do not believe it, I know it. [ She turns her gaze from him. This is all his fault, were it not for him she would have continued to live unaware. He gives her stability to some degree. ]

Do you know what madness feels like? It is an itch you cannot satisfy. On your good days you are far too aware of it, on the others you simply do not care. It dictates your view on the world, shifting it from day to day. Moment to moment.

[impetuous]

But you're not lost to it. [ Unlike her, he doesn't remove his gaze from her. ] It doesn't dictate everything yet.

[scinlae]

Only because a fool blocks it from taking hold.

[impetuous]

You wouldn't be talking about me, would you?

[ Inappropriately light, perhaps, but it's the only way he knows to respond. Apart from a chair to the head at least. ]

[scinlae]

Perhaps I am.

[impetuous]

Morgana…

[ Hesitantly at first, Gwaine turns her hand over. Threading their fingers together, he lifts it it his mouth. He presses a kiss to her knuckles. Without letting go, he rubs her fingers, her palm. ]

[scinlae]

[ She watches torn between reacting or shrugging him off. It's dangerous. They cannot be sure who is watching. ]