shatterverse | (no subject)

It starts the usual way: A flash, a bang, a person standing, disoriented, near a long stretch of deserted road.

But this man falls to his knees-

(thousands of voices; screaming, crying in his head; anger and despair and everything in between, and he can’t fight, can’t ignore, can’t resist them; stop, stop, Goddess why won’t it STOP)

-and clutches his head, letting loose an agonized shout of surprise.

Then it's over, and it's like it never was.

Jamie lowers his hands, noticing in a detached manner that short strands of blond hair come away in his fingers, and sits back on his haunches, blinking. The last thing he remembers is laughing at a joke -- a bad one, with three tavern wenches and a statue -- and climbing a ladder to get at the apples high in an Olau tree. His shirt still smells like the orchard: sun and fruit and green, growing things. Had he fallen? Is this a fevered hallucination brought on by his broken body and healing magic gone wrong? Grace never could get the hang of it. She’s probably given him an extra thumb.

No. All’s right with that.

Digging his fingers into the earth beside the road, he watches it sift back to the ground. It's chunky and rough, but not dry. Even so, it's clearly not the smooth, dark soil of Olau. Jamie sniffs his hand, frowns and pulls himself to his feet. The road crests a hill to the west. Maybe there's something on the other side to explain what's happened; maybe not. Nothing to do, he supposes, but to start walking.

He'll get back to the pain (voices) in his head later. When the mood strikes.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

If she was hoping for Jamie to fall all over himself, slobbering, then his reaction is sure to disappoint. He stands still, staring at her with an inscrutable expression. For shame, Eleanor! Men like a little mystery. A little romance. They don't want to be used.

The narration pauses for laughter.

It's much more likely that Jamie, confronted with a suddenly naked Eleanor, has forgotten how to move or breathe.

And how to use language, as is suggested by his quiet, monosyllabic grunt.

Eventually, he licks his bottom lip and rallies with a small grin. "It's not fair to do that to an injured man."

Was that his voice? It didn't sound like his voice. He should probably clear his throat.

Despite what Eleanor might have been hoping for out of him, she seems satisfied enough with the stupefaction. Her gaze falls onto his bandaged ribs.

"It's fair when I'm injured too," she points out, and pats the dressing on her thigh wound. She then crosses her legs and leans back provocatively, supporting herself on her palms.

"Take it or leave it."

Like he actually has a choice in the matter.

Oh, he has a choice.

It's just that there's no chance he'd choose to walk away.

He does choose, however, to enter into this on equal ground. Eleanor is too sure of herself, and far too certain of him. Jamie grins. Before he's done he'll topple some of that assurance and self-control with his own.

A long night awaits, but it'll be worth it.

His grin turns predatory. Hurt thumb forgotten, he slowly peels off his own jeans and comes to stand beside the bed.

"Only a fool would leave," he remarks blithely, running his eyes over her body. The look in them is clear: he could walk away if he wanted to, but he doesn't. An index finger traces along her collarbone then down between her breasts, as he drops both hands to the bed and leans over her. "I'm no fool."

Eyes fixed on his, Eleanor arches into the touch. It's a dark tempestuous gaze, full of lustful urges and wanton desires. Almost boiling over. She's waited nine hours for this. Relatively speaking, not long. But it's seemed like an age.

"Good," she replies, huskily.

Fingers rake lightly down his arm. She cranes her head up and trespasses her lips against his ear.

"I'll be gentle. This time."

Jamie feels like it's been much closer to six months than nine hours. Just sayin'.

"I don't recall asking you to be gentle," he growls, insistently cupping the back of her head and finally, finally, kissing her with no thought of stopping until they are both too boneless and exhausted to move.

It's a fantastic kiss, and it only gets better from there.