╠ NEON REQUIEM ╣╠ I N B O X ╣

[droppingin]

ᒪᕮᗩᐯᕮ ᗩ ᗰᕮSSᗩGᕮ
| ꭲꭼх​ꭲ | ꭺꮯꭲꮖꮻɴ | ꮩꮖꭰꭼꮻ | ꮩꮻꮖꮯꭼ |

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[droppingin]

[ It says a lot of things about her that Ada manages to sleep in, consistently, in a bed not her own, in someone else's home, even if it's temporarily just a little bit hers... Says a lot of things about whose bed it is, and whose home, too.

But none of those things are spoken aloud. They're written in poetry, occasionally passed in gifts, more often in smaller, greedy touches, in moments so quiet she barely breathes.

Her steps are near silent as she slides out of bed, slides the poem carefully between the box and the flower as if undisturbed at all, as if she didn't read it four times over, each more slowly than the last, and, still clad in nothing but an over-large tee-shirt and little else, roams out in search of her quarry.

Whatever may be occupying him, even if he should notice her approach, she wraps her arms around him from behind and lays her head against his back. Her silence feels revealing, but she doesn't trust herself to speak.

It could be just another afternoon morning, if she believes it hard enough. ]

[mrpoetry]

[V, having slipped from their -- his? -- bed only to exchange it for a perch on an antique love seat with claw feet and a stuffy, floral print upholstery, lets his morning paper droop into his lap, head turning slightly in Ada's direction as her arms wrap him up close.

Her warmth is welcome, comfortable and a little too arresting, and he reaches up to lay his palm across the back of hers in wordless appreciation for the gesture, appreciation for the familiarity of her weight against his back. Without meaning to, he breathes in her nearness and exhales his cares.]

I'm glad you liked it, [is his bare whisper, his palm scuffing across the back of her hand twice before long fingers curl inward to clasp her hand against his chest, wheedle his thumb in to stroke her palm. He tips back against her, just enough to be felt.]