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]

Every thread of madness dissolved into power as it touched Thomas' skin, sinking into his veins. It was hard not to play when so much power sang beneath his skin, so he did. Every touch coaxed calm and tranquility to the surface. His fingers touched dissonant strings of worry and guilt and their melodies faded away. Threads of warmth and affection appeared beneath his hands and Thomas urged them to sing.

It was a war Thomas knew he could never win, but he fought it anyway, just trying to stay ahead, spinning emotions to desire and quiet before doubt and fear could intrude. Resting Dru back against the bed, her dark hair spilled across the pillows, he played for her, affection singing contralto with desire in alto harmony. And something more, something quiet and warm that he could never name, something he didn't even know he evoked, trilled soprano to send her soaring.

[dead-drusilla.livejournal.com]

The gown would have been inconsequential. Her fingers barely remembered how to shrug it off. Sliding the silk off her shoulders. Wriggling out of it while softly arching. Drusilla dropped it into a puddle of sunlight.

And it ceased to be. Melted away exactly like the threads of madness Thomas pulled from her. She did the same to his boxers. Just to see if she could. Twist them away like Thomas twisted away the dead clutching vines that choked her throat. They curled and dissolved like opium smoke.

Everything about Drusilla was warm and hazy, slow and heady. It took more than skill to make her that way. It took care.

It never occurred to her that anyone could use that ability for harm. Not when he played upon her skin and on her heart. Coaxing out beautiful moans with the briefest of touches. It never occurred to her that anyone was watching. Recording every sigh and bitten lip.

How quiet everything seemed. How soft and subtle the music in her ears. Not a din of crashing cymbals and nasty little mismatched notes.
The kisses here were not devouring. Drusilla had no need for them. Or wrenched skin. It was shocking that she could be so gentle. Not weak, never weak. There was power spiraling out of her with no sense of stopping. Begging to be taken. To not just be had, but to be shared, willingly.

Her legs were wrapped in the white and red sheets, and for the life of her she felt nothing but pleasure and an unquenchable desire. For once Drusilla's hair did not cover her face when she opened her eyes, but the pigtails had become messy, and she pulled them from her mouth to bring him closer. Slim pale hands hands wanted to pull his hips toward her. Ask very politely to be sunk into. But she had the feeling he already knew. Thomas never needed the words.

There didn't have to be words. Just pure decadent silence.

[emptynight]

If Thomas' mind had been filled with anything less than Drusilla, he would have noticed the fact that his boxers had just dissolved into smoke, and that would have bothered him. As it were, all he was aware of was Dru, inviting and heady. Quiet was stretching, a song sung by a hundred voices blended into one fluid tune, and everything felt slow, indulgent. Thomas sank into Dru with a barely heard sigh, feeling her soft and pliant beneath him, and knew that this wasn't a mindless keening docility of his making.

The knowledge strengthened him and Thomas moved against Dru slowly, hips rocking against hers in counterpoint to the touch of her lips against his. This was a moment to be savoured, remembered. Silence reigned and power curled around him like sweet, intoxicating smoke. Every stroke, every motion was its own song of desire and silence, of beauty and goodness, yet it was a metronome, a timer ticking down to inevitable end, to sweet release and the moment when silence would begin to fade.

[dead-drusilla.livejournal.com]

There was no need for her to rend. To slice his back with sharp nails. There was no desire to mark or be marked. Just an easy quiet pleasure. Drusilla paid careful attention to every stroke and touch of finger tips. She thought. Catalogued care in every quiet breath.

It was brilliant, this brief touch of silence and near sanity. There was rawer pleasure most certainly, in the thrusting of hips and the feeling of being filled. The languid smile on her lips had nothing to do with that.

It had everything to do with Thomas. And when the song began to end, and the world began to unravel again, Drusilla did not bite. Blood would taint it, and all she wanted to do was laugh. It couldn't be helped. It was a sweet tripping laughter without a hint of madness. No screams, no rending just satisfied delight.

She watched him with words often said and danced around obviously in her eyes. The only thing the sunny depths lacked, was insanity. The tiny glint of a bramble filled mind.When Drusilla blinked, her mind was tangled, but peaceful. Words tumbled towards her lips, but in the interest of preserving the moment, she kept them to herself.

[emptynight]

No screams. No blood. No keening release. Just a near-perfect moment of sweet completion. Thomas smiled and kissed Dru again, swallowing her laughter like some shining thing to be savoured. His eyes met hers, storm grey dancing with flecks of metallic silver, and he smiled wordlessly, holding onto the silence.

His hands caressed her cheek, traced the curve of Dru's jaw and twined into her hair as the silence faded, like fog evaporating in sunlight. "I--" Something flickered over his face and Thomas shook his head, banishing some secret flight of fancy. "Will you still chide me now, dear Dru?" he asked instead.

[dead-drusilla.livejournal.com]

It was gone. Just like that. But the world wasn't clambering in. the visions weren't stealing her thoughts. It wasn't so loud. Her body arched to his fingers, like one getting pretty discordant notes from running over the strings of a harp.

Fancy was her specialty. Especially now that she looked more sweet than terrible. A sigh escaped her lips before she dared respond. Coherency was struggled enough for that she bit her bottom lip.

Stars in the daylight. Milk and cream. Laying here tastes like milk and cream and sweetness in my mouth when there have only been ashes. Ashes. I should not taste of fire and ashes. That is not for me I think.

Her hands brushed against the tops of his thighs, and thing felt a little more in step. "I cannot chide you Thomas, look at me. Do I look like I have any harsh words for you on my tongue? Shall I stick it out? Show you that nothing is written there?"

Her laugh was small, and held a touch of the bittersweet. "I only want you to watch yourself my darling. I care for you."

[emptynight]

His laugh echoed hers, soft with a touch of melancholy. "I--" Thomas shook his head; the words were so small, so inconsequential almost, and yet he couldn't say them. "I'll be careful," he said instead, kissing Dru's forehead.

A glance at the window showed Thomas that the sun was still high in the sky. "Shall we sleep again, dear Dru?" he asked, fingers dancing over her skin, pale and soft like milk and cream. "Quiet and dreaming of nothing but things that make you smile?"

[dead-drusilla.livejournal.com]

"You always say that Thomas. But we still worry." Drusilla pulled at a pigtail, chewing at the end. She slid over just aa bit, grateful for the large circular bed. Her hands moved through the fabric from the canopy, taking in the fleeting feel of of the guaze. It was so light. Tonight must be lightness. Had to be.

The sun played pretty havoc on her features. The tempered glass allowed Thomas a rare glimpse. Drusilla looked rather pretty in the sunlight. Eyes already closed, and body languidly stretched out. "Of course Thomas," she yawned, pulling him down to her with a sleepy laugh. "I feel I will dream many more things in the warm sun. Though they may not make me smile." A noticably wamer hand wrapped around his waist, and despite her words, Drusilla looked at peace. "But at least they will be quiet."