We're still fighting it, we're still fighting it

[emptynight]

Dawn was approaching when Thomas pulled back into the garage. Tired but full of warm contentment, he headed upstairs with every intention of falling asleep in his own bed, but as he passed Dru's door, he stopped. Something felt wrong, felt cold, and Thomas frowned, slipping quietly into the room. Finding her in a fitful, uneasy sleep, he stripped out of everything except boxers and slipped between the sheets next to her. She smelled of starlight and night air, with skin like ice. Not wanting to wake her, Thomas wrapped an arm around Dru, letting a trick of power bubble over his palm, radiating calm affection. Hoping it would be enough for now, he fell asleep.

((Tag Dru))

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[emptynight]

Being kissed by Dru always felt like swimming in dangerous waters, never knowing when the whispering siren call of madness would sweep him away even as he wrapped himself in it. When she pulled away, Thomas was breathing heavily, his hands running over Dru's body even as she pressed against him. It wasn't desire for feeding that spurred him, but simply the desire for closeness.

"It will be our little secret," he assured her, kissing her again, lips, jaw, throat. His lips lingered at her neck, tasting soft skin, catching vulnerable flesh between teeth and tongue. "But Dru, they are fools if they can't see your light."

There was no need to say that he was relieved that she could be happy with what change his presence wrought in her. She was changing too much, too fast, but if this one change could make her happy, perhaps it would be enough. Still, he changed the subject, wanting nothing more than to back away lest either of them said something else that couldn't be taken back.

"Shall I tell you of our adventures last night?" he asked instead. "How Edward and I found a present in a frat house and made it sing?" Hell, he'd tell her about the fae if she asked. Just anything less uncomfortable than what had already been said.

[dead-drusilla.livejournal.com]

Words. Thomas was always running from words. It was in her nature to chase him, make him see what was behind the pretty phrase. Accept the tones and syllables of them. Except for today. Today Drusilla trembled against him, a laugh on her lips.

They needed a rest from her ability to show them the power of words. Her emotions were still a torrent, but she pushed through them to rest against his chest with half closed eyes. "Edward had been looking for a present all night. Were they pretty?" If he liked she would tell him about her night. It had been more than beautiful until she mentioned-

Drusilla sat up again, her palms pressed into the pillow on either side of Thomas' head. "Thomas," she said, her voice lilting in the way it often did when she knew she was about to say something that made near to no sense to herself, "I think Lacrimosa and I own a bar."

[emptynight]

"They were very pre--" Thomas had started to answer when Dru pulled away. She spoke again, her voice lilting, the words singing some unknown melody that made no sense to anyone but Dru herself.

This time, the words didn't sound mad, which was a plus. They just didn't seem to make normal sense. "You and Lacci own a bar?" he echoed, perplexed. "Is it a nice bar, at least?"

[dead-drusilla.livejournal.com]

"I don't know if it's a nice bar. I don't even know where it is." Thought she was sure she could remember if she asked the right parts of her mind. Not that she was going to do anything of the sort.

She frowned and tried to work through the process. which often meant feeling everything all over again. "We stole a car which had a Greg inside. Then we slaughtered all the big bad vampire daddies. Lacrimosa was beautiful, all knives and soft breaking limbs. And of course we had to bathe in the blood and dust of our enemies and kiss like starved demonesses with slick hot bodies but-" Drusilla pouted, "I think we own the bar now. The bar with all of our new pet bunnies. We have pet bunnies now Thomas. I am unsure of their care and feeding."

[emptynight]

The thought crossed Thomas' mind that maybe he had gone insane, that those twisting sirens songs had in fact dragged him out to sea while he hadn't been looking. He blinked hard, shaking away the enticing mental image Dru's words had called forth. "The bunnies will be able to feed and take care of themselves," Thomas answered, going along with it. "After all, Spoike's doing well on his own, isn't he?"

Thomas' eyes were drawn to said hamster's cage, which was steadily becoming more of a hamster palace with carved wood ornaments hanging from the corners. "It sounds like a fun night, lovely," he said, shifting so that he sat up as well. One hand began combing through her hair again, while the other danced up the bare skin of her arm. "All Edward and I did was hunt. And almost get eaten by a faerie cat."

[dead-drusilla.livejournal.com]

"Of course Spoike is happy. I feed him all the time..." Drusilla looked over to the cage with Thomas. Spoike was currently snuggled under a quilt that looked suspiciously like it was made of leaves. Well, he did always have an easy time making friends.

Drusilla was perfectly ready to explain how she was slightly worried about the humans left satisfied in a heap, but he had gently turned her mind to other places. Her face went from slightly pleased to worried in little time. "You didn't bring your knife did you? If you did I would be wearing a new fur collar."

[emptynight]

Her words were met with a laugh, warm and affectionate. "I think I will be carrying your knife all the time now," he said, hands idly parting her hair into two pigtails. "Did you know you'd be protecting me from kittens with big green eyes that smell like snow and peppermint when you gave it to me?"

The question had not been sarcastic or condescending, just curious, and Thomas' hand stilled for a moment as he cast about for the elastic that had been in Dru's hair only a little while ago.

[dead-drusilla.livejournal.com]

Thomas was a rather comfortable seat. It was the only reason she wasn't telling him off. Or shaking off the pigtails. Her large eyes did not help the image, and her tone was quiet. "No. Not big kitties. But I smelled them on you, Thomas. When you came home and said nothing. I saw things. Little snippets. I worry. I always worry."

Drusilla plucked the elastics from the pillow and held them out to him. "Snow? It smelled of coldness then? I must sew washers in your jackest and put nails in your boots. They are all nasty nasty things...the cold ones."

[emptynight]

((Desquish like a fox))