Cardia breaks away continuing forward. The plush grass swishes against her boots and she tells herself that it will get easier, just a little further and she will be in the cloaked by the woods and darkness, out of his sight. She needs to retreat back into the folds of history. She is an Apostle of Idea. But each step feels excruciatingly weighted, her body carrying the leaded pain and sorrow that grips her being. Pain that she has concealed for so long behind that mask. Pain she must conceal because she must continue to smile.
There’s a rustling in the grass behind her and she hopes that it’s him just the wind weaving ribbons through the meadow and throwing up the dead leaves into the air. She hopes. She prays. She picks up her pace. Faster than she can react, he grabs her arm abruptly stealing her into his embrace with such intensity that she is momentarily disarmed.
A surprised gasp escapes her lips when he closes the last few inches between their bodies and she can feel 665 pieces of emotion spear her. There’s a distinct flavor of panic lodged in her throat, beryl hues widening in alarm–she shouldn’t be here, she can’t allow herself to falter, she is an Apostle of Idea, she’s already come so far, she’s trying so hard; but the steel of his arms lock her in place, tightening around her effortlessly, molding her to the shape of his silhouette. Her face is buried in the soft material of his suit and he smells faintly of cologne, accented by strength and courage and she’s drowning in the waves of emotion that continue to rise to the surface no matter how hard she tries to mask them.
Her hands are tightly balled fists by her side, every inch of her body taut with tension and she can’t seem to slow the thrumming in her chest—the way it hums faster and louder as if overcompensating for the shock and stillness of her body. A rustle of fabric comes to enshroud her, closing the outside world away and she is sheltered within the artificial cloak of night beneath his cape. In the darkness she is hyperaware of the way his hands that gently caress her waist making her shudder lightly and the steady beats of his heart drumming in his chest. His words are a soft and soothing balm; drops of honey that slip into the cracks and shattered pieces that barely hold her together. In his arms the ice in her veins thaw and melt; she is tempted by recklessness, desperate to cling onto the sliver of forever that once slipped through her fingers, a sliver of forever that she knows will never have. Released of the ice her hands uncurl, slowly moving up his back as they hold onto the fabric of his jacket. “Lupin…only for a second–” she breathes into his shirt, “–just for a second,” she lies to herself, her lips tripping over a stifled sob; because nothing as felt this amazing in such a long time.
There is clarity in his embrace and it frightens her. She feels like she can be exactly who she is and whatever she wants to be when she’s in his arms and she’s afraid that she won’t be able to let go–because she doesn’t want him to ever let go. She scolds herself for the selfish wish, but in this moment she feels as if her greatest wish was being fulfilled—she’s able to reach out and touch someone with her heart.
She loses sight of how many minutes they remain that way in a silent embrace. It’s not until she can hear the cadence of crickets and katydids does she realize night has fallen on them. Cardia swallows her hesitation, loosening her fingers and allowing her hands to fall to her sides before bringing them to her chest, creating distance between their bodies.
“We can’t stay here. We– I have to go.” she says to the creases in his vest, avoiding capture by his golden hues, afraid of what emotions might surface if she were to meet his gaze.
He willed his heartbeat to remain calm, steady; be the anchor she needs, even if she will not vocally voice out her thoughts, emotions, worries. Instead, Lupin remained silent, not commenting on the way her voice cracked, sounded weak, the brief and quiet sounds of a sob escaping her lips -- no, rather, he squeezed her just briefly to signal that he was still here; he was real, and he had no intentions of leaving her side unless she wills it herself.
No matter his own personal thoughts in the matter.
Regardless of how many years have passed since their last meeting, regardless of how the tides of time and experience has changed the lone woman in his arms from a beautiful ray of light to the decaying signs of becoming what she once was --- a doll, a puppet controlled by mere strings --- regardless of it all, his desire to be there for her remained. Especially when Saint Germain... could not. To finally have closure about his fate, to find that the man whom he once deemed as a friend, who has fooled them all, whisked Cardia's heart away and had her desire to save him...
He let out a deep breath, eyes narrowed as he instead focused on the gentle, small breaths escaping Cardia's lips as she felt the way she tried so desperately not to cave in, not to break down, despite their locked embrace --- the way her grip on his jacket was tight, conveying everything that she willed herself not to. He dared not speak another word; in truth, he was... afraid to utter anything else. Lupin felt if he voiced a single incorrect thought, incorrect phrase, it may change her mind and cause her to disappear like a mirage, ghost, much like the illusion he saw in the dark streets of London. Back then, his heart lounged in his throat with the desire to do nothing more than to rip it out and offer everything; his soul, his heart, his mind, his body if it meant that she would be real.
She permanently has stolen a part of him that once upon a time Lupin was convinced he would not allow to be stolen; his heart. As pitiful as it is for a man like him to be in love with someone who he fruitlessly searched for years.
He didn't know how much longer he could keep his own facade up; the strength he felt in his shoulders, in his mind --- it was all borrowed from the woman in front of him. She was as much as a pillar to him as he sought to be to her. He let out another deep breath; his resolve crumbling, trying to keep his emotions and heart in check. He did not want her to feel burdened with his reactions when she was already encumbered with the years she spent alone.
Instead, he feigned ignorance on his feelings; ignoring the way his emotions yearned for him to say something, act upon anything--- no, this was her moment, her chance of serenity, as temporary as it may be. He focused on the faint drumming of crickets, feeling the gentle night breeze cooling his head, his thoughts. He gazed briefly down at the cloak that engulfed the woman in front of him, observing the moon light illuminate the fabric. If the moon has finally set in the sky...
His gaze traveled above them, to the endless oasis and twinkling stars glowing brightly before them, as if granting him additional courage the lone man found himself weak of currently. His own time of tranquility, the brief amount of minutes holding the woman who captured the heart of a thief's time was up. Making true to his promise, Lupin removed his cloak from around her hesitantly, finally granting himself the luxury of staring down at Cardia. He felt her fingers loosening from their embrace, pulling away from him, and by the gods he let her (with everything in him screaming not to, she’ll slip away from him, disappear, be just another false vision praying on his thoughts, his hopes, dreams, desires ---) despite his heart's yearning to hold her again ---
Rather, he lowered his hands from her body, critically telling himself not to look too much into the inaction of her fully leaving him, the way her head remained. Lupin stood still, a soft, sad smile with golden hues speaking the words not escaping his lips; his heart. He almost didn't registered the words she said --- protected by his vest, soft, quiet; as if she didn't want the magic to end as much as he.
Stop fooling yourself, his mind whispered.
But, if there was one thing he caught even if it may have been a slip of the tongue, the tiniest bit of hope dancing in his chest --- she said 'we'. 'WE' have to go. Words remained stuck in his throat as his heart clenched, so many unspoken sentences he wanted to sound out, wanted to tell her; but, instead of questions...
"You're right. Even with the cover of the night, it's far too dangerous to be out in the open like this..." His voice trailed off; trying to sound as level-headed as he desired to be for her, "... I have a safe-house nearby, near one of the villages. I set it up when I..." He stopped the sentence; let out a breath. He didn't want to further burden her with his past spent trying (and failing) to find her, making even more safe-houses all throughout the lands filled with broken hopes and dreams.
"Regardless, the village is busy enough to conceal us both temporarily, safe-house or not. If you wish to restock on supplies..." He dared not speak anything else, speak anything involving him; he did not want to utter that he wished to remain with her, wished to support her. The silence spoke more volumes than he could admit.
He went ahead and took a step back; slowly, almost delaying the inevitable, and immediately felt the body heat that she shared with him whisked away by the night air; however, he was quick to still maintain body contact with her, lest she... disappears again, hand springing out to firmly grip, fingers naturally filling the gaps that her own, small hands had to offer, but at the same time keeping his grip loose enough that if she willed it, she could easily escape the contact.
While he did state the village was nearby, it was still quite a ways of travel --- far away from the other village that he remembered with fierce anger deemed her a 'monster'. It would be wiser for the both of them to remain cloaked by the natural camouflage the trees had to offer. Outwardly, he appeared confident, any moment of weakness that embrace allowed him to express now hidden away in the layers of his heart; he didn't want her to sense any negatively stemming from him.
Inwardly, a part of him wondered if she'll even allow him the chance to take her to a temporary place of refugee, allow him to glimpse inside her mind any more than she has already. Allow him to help her.
He gazed briefly at their entwined hands, thumb mutely rubbing against the backside of her glove, then turned around and began walking to the brief opening the forest provided, stealing her away from the broken down manor much like the first night where they have met years ago, back when times were simple and hopeful.
He shall leave the upcoming actions, either favorable or unfavorable, to herself first and foremost. This was her story, after all.
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