Ever Glittering, Too Far to Touch

[Laszlo]

The warmth from Abalia's hands bled quickly into his sides, and his body relaxed involuntarily, features softened unwillingly. Before he was even aware that he'd lifted his arm, his bony fingers rested gently upon the round of her shoulder. It was so dizzying, the way the two of them pushed apart and pulled together, pushed apart and pulled together. And it was ridiculous, in the grand scheme of everything. It seemed obvious both of them wanted one another, but both kept finding reasons to deny. It was as if they were daring fate to change its mind and test its resolve. "Abby…" His mouth rested upon her hair, a breath spraying across the top of her head. "Maybe you're right. I do tend to… presume. It's just… I feel so alone here, in this world, caged in this body. I came from Syna's realm, and no one else knows what that's like. I mean, I can barely even remember it myself." The hand on Abalia's shoulder tightened, then let go. "It feels like, most of the time, no one else can see things the way I see them. Maybe I'm just conceited. I don't have the wisdom to know." Laszlo leaned forward, spindly arms encircling Abalia's smaller form against his. The lids of his eyes fell. "I've only been away from the ukalas for about two years. I don't know this world, or even myself. Maybe you are strong enough to be with me, but I'm not sure I could manage another person when I can barely manage myself. I don't think we can be together, if that's what you want." Yet his arms closed tighter. "At the same time, I can't stand the thought of letting you leave. Like I said I feel… so alone here. Syna's realm was bliss; it was perfect. This is hell in comparison… but when I'm around you, it really isn't all that bad." The Ethaefal remembered back to Kalinor, when Nassanye had found him again, Vethis' wife from decades past. She had clung so desperately to him, believing Laszlo to be Vethis even if she knew he wasn't. Nassanye didn't care, she only knew that she needed to feel loved again, to not feel alone. And she would have given anything to prevent him from leaving. But he did leave. She was probably dead now. "Being with someone requires effort, commitment, understanding. It's such a… human thing to do. It feels like the wrong direction to go, if I want to understand why I'm here in Mizahar. But… I don't know."

[Abalia]

What was it like, living in the playground of a god? Abalia couldn't imagine Syna's domain or this perfection Laszlo afforded it in word. She knew what it was like to live in the city of Ionu's fancy, but Alvadas was anything but perfect and hardly comparable, she knew. Summoning a patience she didn't often possess, Abalia pressed her face to his chest and allowed herself to enjoy this embrace, as she attempted to consider his words. To really think on them, as removed from her own objectivity as much as she could manage. And while she really couldn't understand what it was like to be him, she felt like he was missing an inherent point along the way. Fingers splaying along his back, warm cheek nuzzling against him, Abalia's voice was muffled against his clothing when she spoke. "You speak of humanity as if it is a disease, Lasz. You may be something glorious and beautiful and special, but the fact is, you aren't there anymore. In that place. You can't make decisions based on anything that was true, there. Here you're just... one of many. Not so far removed from the people around you. It seems backwards that you'd latch on to the vices of the human condition, chasing desires that never satisfy, and spurn the more noble aspects of our existence." Lifting her dark head upwards so she could find those beautiful eyes against the waning darkness, she smiled with a bit of bemusement. "It might take more effort to understand, to commit to something... but chasing after base instinct seems certainly more human and flawed than investing a part of yourself into something meant to be..." Abalia gave a little shrug, and buried her face against him again. She'd had a talk like this with Roxxie, once, though the circumstances had been entirely different. She'd never had to convince Roxanne to care for her, to want her. Not ever.

[Laszlo]

Abalia's slender frame fit against his so well. Laszlo's lips parted to deliver a reply, but his tongue stayed perched against his teeth, not finding the words. So, for a while, there just finally silence again. Behind him, the Suvan brushed against the Alvadas streets, trying to swallow more of Ionu's city. Some blocks away, a man's voice echoed distantly as he yelled something vulgar-sounding in an unfamiliar language. Even further away, he thought he could hear someone singing. A dog barked. The wind, picking up dust from the rooftops and sweeping away the litter in the streets, whispered Ionu's whispers underneath everything. It was Abalia's home, Alvadas, Mizahar. Even if Laszlo's faith was not in Ionu, here he was at the Trickster's mercy. Part of the city, like everyone else. "I'm tired," he spoke finally, his throat rumbling against Abalia's forehead. "I don't want to speak of it, anymore. I don't want to complicate anything. Abalia… if exclusivity will make you happy, then you can have it. Really, you were never less important to me than them." With Naama, he had even occasionally pretended that she was her. "If you're not too furious with me… can we just rest, somewhere?" Of course, Laszlo couldn't take her back to the Sun and Stars. She must have had a place she slept safely. "Where do you live?"

[Abalia]

Abalia felt it, too. A bone deep exhaustion that said they'd chased this discussion far enough. Besides, hadn't he just conceded the one thing she'd coveted most? If he wouldn't give himself to her, Abalia thought the idea of him giving so freely to so many others might kill her. It clearly did things to her perspective, at least, and a stained tavern floor coupled with an incredible financial loss in the form of shattered bottles provided evidence enough of that. She squeezed tighter and was about to stretch up onto tip toe to claim a kiss when he asked that question. She almost wanted to laugh, except that this was quite possibly the first time the reality of her living situation was an embarrassment for her. Gathering her wits, she leaned back to fix him with her quirky smile. "Well, in Alvadas, of course." Leaving her explanation at that, Abalia tangled her fingers within his and made to pick her way across the roof. "Someplace different each night," she added on, as they found pavement again. "Since night has passed, well, almost... maybe we should just get a room. I've some coin."

[Laszlo]

She didn't have a home? That's what Laszlo had deduced from the way she had worded things. Though it surprised him, it didn't necessarily strike him as something wholly unthinkable. Laszlo had been homeless until recently, living out of inns, tents, and under generous roofs for most of the past two years. He'd faulted that though to having no mortal roots or origins; Abalia was a human and a child of Alvadas. It seemed odd. "A room?" Staying at another inn felt like such a silly idea, considering Laszlo now owned his own bed and roof to sleep under. He could just concede and take her back there. But if Victor saw her, he might insert himself just to mess with them. Roxanne might be mentioned, and… everything could just rapidly fall apart from where. "I think that's a good idea. Our own room, with no one to bother us. That sounds nice, considering how often Seven and Victor break into my room for whatever reason." Enclosing one arm around her, Laszlo began to walk with Abalia down—or rather up the street, considering its vague incline. There was a chance that the Inn was behind them and underwater, but if someone needed to go there, Ionu could probably move it somewhere dry for them. Knowing what he did about the city, Laszlo wondered if perhaps none of the city was underwater; it only appeared this way to everyone, no matter where they were. The underwater city was the illusion, likely, and the rest of the city could just be carefully rearranged to accommodate non-waterbreathing Alvads. Still, it wouldn't surprise him if the inn was dripping wet and barnacle-encrusted by the time they got there. "I lived like that in Syliras for a while. I didn't stay there very long." They walked on, navigating the ever-shifting maze under Akajia's shroud, leaving the sea behind them until even the air smelled less salty. Laszlo's lilac eyes were keen at piercing the darkness, offering them an easier navigation. "What about your family? Don't they live here?"

[Abalia]

"Mmm," Abalia murmured, finding it easy enough to slink along at his side. She did well enough on her own navigating through Alvadas in the darkness, but it was nice to not think too much about what be lurking around the next corner, for once. "No family, really. It was just Roxxie. I mean, I had to have had parents, but I never knew them. I ended up with a leatherworker, and lived with him until I decided... er, not to?" A brief shrug punctuated the thought. As bizarre as it was, it simply was to her. She hadn't seen him in a long, long while. Was he still alive? She wasn't certain it mattered. While she hadn't been treated cruelly, she'd never been really loved, either. "That's how I found Roxxie. On the streets. She was lost, in the city. I was just sort of lost in life. We found each other, I guess." The walk wasn't far. Water dripped from the eaves as they passed under the sign that swayed and creaked in the wind, a droplet falling upon Abalia's nose. When she reached up to wipe it, it stained her fingers crimson. Her nose crinkled, a frown tugging her lips downwards as they stepped inside. Cruel of Alvadas, the timing of that. As early as it was, the Inn was still quiet. Without leaving room for a chivalrous interjection, Abalia quickly dropped a few coins atop the counter and traded them for a key from the sleepy-eyed attendant. Easy enough. "Did you have family?" A few flights of stairs, and they'd have a privacy they'd never really been afforded before.

[Laszlo]

Laszlo paid a brief look to the attendant at the inn, remembering the night he returned Siofra's inn room key. "Sort of," he replied half-heartedly as the stairs creaked beneath the cascade of their footfalls. The Ethaefal's long arm had found the curve of Abalia's back, and he hugged her waistline possessively. There had been no thought to the gesture; it had just felt like a natural thing to do. The answer had been automatic, as Laszlo had been too busy ruminating on what Abalia's life with Roxanne must have been like. Vagrants, both of them, just homeless children running around in the city. It was isolating enough, not having a bed to lie in at the end of the day. Without her kelvic, it was no wonder Abalia had grown so… volatile at the thought of Laszlo abandoning her. "Not really," he corrected, thinking better of it. He glanced at the key in Abalia's hand, wondering which numbered door belonged to them. It was spooky, walking through a hall like this again. Laszlo had been happy to leave this life behind. "In Kalinor I stayed with the Orthilia Web. They were… it's complicated. Their patriarch died and I sort of… filled in, for a while. Is this it?" The both of them stopped at door. Room 7. Ha. Once inside, Laszlo wandered away from Abalia to examine the room, making private comparisons to the previous rented rooms he'd lived in before. Without any lanterns lit, it was blanketed in a deep indigo shadow. Although he could see just fine, traces of moonlight bleeding in through the clouded window, he could estimate from his experience in his dayside form that it was nearly pitch black. Nearing an oil lantern on the far side of the room, his clawed fingers hovered over the wick's turnkey, but paused. Perhaps that the dark was better. Turning, his eyes made a line between Abalia and the bed. His stomach tightened. Naturally, he wanted her, but he still had the same reservations. It wasn't worth taking the risk. "So… you don't have anywhere to go? Do you work anywhere? Why did you leave the leatherworker?"

[Abalia]

"I have all of Alvadas." Abalia wasn't being shy about the bed, though she couldn't see as well in the dark as he could. She stumbled about until she found it and then climbed atop, curling like a kitten atop the blankets. She didn't seem as if she was being intentionally evasive; she literally looked at it so simply. The city was her home, whether it was a night spent in an alley or in this room. "And he was... he wasn't cruel. But he didn't love me. He didn't need me. And so there was no reason to stay. We had lived together for my entire life, as much as I can recall anyway, and he didn't know a thing about me." Apparently feeling as if her explanation was paltry, she pursed her lips and gave a shrug. "Life is about connections, I think. I didn't have one there. It was time to go." Simple as that, as far as she was concerned. But now there was the darkness and the silence and the distinct lack of Laszlo. "Laz, c'mere," she murmured, all sultry and pleading, though her wide eyes scanned the darkness fruitlessly. "I don't want to be all alone on this bed."

[Laszlo]

In the dark, there was the sound of shuffling clothing as Laszlo lifted one hand to rub behind his neck. The floor boards creaked under his boots as he shifted his weight, hesitating. Occasionally his eyes would glitter, becoming two hesitant pinpricks of light in the black as they chased his thoughts all through the room. It was quiet, otherwise, except for the hushed sounds of Alvadas nightlife moving outside and in the other rooms. Although it had been him who'd decided to shelve their respective opinions for the time being, he still wanted to argue with her. Abalia wasn't getting it. Maybe he hadn't explained it right, or he wasn't understanding some basic human concept she had assumed he should. He was hesitant to get in bed with her, even if he wanted nothing more than to pull her body into his, smell her hair, and kiss her neck. The temptation to go further was powerful, and he didn't trust Abalia to have restraint where his might fail. Whether it was a risk to sleep with Abalia, whether he could even… contribute to a pregnancy, and whether a child of his would be Ethaefal or Symenestra (or both?)… it was impossible to know anything for sure. Laszlo did want to find out someday, he just didn't want to potentially sacrifice Abalia to that end. The floorboards crackled and whined under the heavy tap of Laszlo's footsteps. As he sat down, the mattress sagged to one side. Laszlo leaned over to unlace his boots, letting out a sigh. He allowed his brain and his heart to do the same as he and Abalia had. Agree to disagree; work it out later. As an afterthought, he also removed his shirt. The bedcovers shifted, and soon Laszlo's tall frame was fitted against Abalia's. His arm clasped her tiny waist, and after deeply drawing in her scent, he released a breath into her hair. "I think I understand." He kissed her neck. "You've lost your only connection. I've never had one, I don't think. That makes us both alone, but here, together. In this bed." Closing his eyes, Laszlo squeezed her body against his. "Goddess I've missed you, Abalia. You've become so… significant to me. It's a little annoying, all the ways your little imperfections make you so perfect. You make it difficult for me to feel sorry for myself. All I can think about is you."

[Abalia]

Satisfied with the approaching footsteps, Abalia smiled into the darkness. She welcomed the way the mediocre bed dipped too far when he settled onto it, rolling closer in response. Her fingers were already eager as he shrugged away his shirt, dancing along skin she could hardly see but certainly could feel. She loved the near delicacy of him; so masculine and strong, but never rugged. He was cool yet, from their time out of doors, but Abalia was already thinking of all the ways she might warm her spider tonight. "Annoying," she murmured with a snort, accepting the position he created for them with a pleasant sigh. A turn of her head, with that dark curtain of hair brushed aside by her own nimble fingertips, and her lips were pressing to the very corner of his own. "You, oh fallen one, are the picture of annoyance. You're stubborn," she said, punctuating her list with kisses that trailed along the jawline closest to her. "Self-absorbed, whorish," she went on, with kisses all in between. As she neared his throat, her lips became brazen enough to part, because she couldn't resist tasting him in that soft place just below the dip of his jaw. "And absolutely impossible." Any insult in her words was considerably dulled by both the easy fondness in her voice, a lovers whisper in the darkness between them, and by the affectionate way her free hand explored his torso in drooping swirls that left no skin untouched. As her fingers dipped below his navel, flirting with the sparse beginning of hair there, she brought her head up again to kiss him full on, smiling against his perfect lips. "I missed you too, Laz."