She's been growing flowers at the Chantry, Kiara. Pushing growth into a little eked out area near the Node between the mossy stones that cradle the spring and the old, overgrown fountain. Rejuvenating the earth as the last vestiges of winter cling on. It's difficult; working her fingers into hard, frozen dirt. The Verbena spends a weekend out there; in the cold; breath misting; damp clinging to her skin. Fertilizes the bulbs with her determination; with sharp direction of workings, as much as physical care.
Despite the gloves; her fingers bleed. Chill creeps in and she sits back on her heels, flexing sensation back into her appendages; dirt smeared across her cheek; collarbone. Pushes herself to her feet and
-- turns; dragging the sheet half from the bed.
"If I asked you to stay the night, would you?"
She's fishing for her shirt on the floor, it's wedged between two empty wine glasses and a heel. Stills, at the question. Feels his eyes on her bare skin as she turns away to pull it over her head; drag her hair out. Keep her expression guarded from him as she reaches for her skirt.
"You haven't asked."
"Stay the night?" She can hear the humor in it. The question punctuating the stir of sheets; the re-settling of his body against the pillows; arms framing both like the hook of an anchor. She turns around; shucking the sheet; hands working the zip back up her skirt. There's a twist of her lips then. She crosses the floor; then the mattress; to touch her mouth to his, smilingly.
"No." Refusal dosed in a kiss.
"Why?" His hand curling around her bicep (the anchor dragging her down); disappointment turning him sour; hard and angry, flavoring the injury in his eyes and she's pulling back (cutting loose); recoiling from the connection.
"Because you assume it means something when I do."
--
"And it doesn't? Do you not love him, this man?"
It's summer. Warm. Insects are buzzing. She's on a chaise lounge and Aisling is shuffling a tarot deck; iced tea on coasters on a side-table.
"God, what's love? I don't know what that means, Aisling. I should have cut him off. After - I should have ended that. It doesn't even mean anything anymore but I keep going back like I'm stuck on a god forsaken loop."
A low, noncommittal noise from the older woman with hair once black now peppered through with grey; fingers laden with rings laying out cards in formation. "Did you think becoming aware would make you wiser to all things at once? I think you'll run a very long way to escape the limits of your heart, Kiara Woolfe."
"Are you being wise now? Is this a lesson?"
"Look, the King of Swords. The Queen of Cups. Ah, the Five of Cups."
"Aisling."
"Come here, sit with me while I read your cards."
"You're crazy." She settles on her lap and leans their heads together, smiling into the pronouncement. A hand lifts to touch the edge of her jaw.
"The greater to see you with, little wolf."
--
The lights are out in the apartment when she returns. She turns them on; plays back messages on their machine and hovers by a closed door only to knock and turn the handle.
"Sadie?"
Flowers dying in a vase by the window; curled petals dripping to gather in a frail burial pile on the floor. She gathers them up; crushes and keeps them.
Closes the door on the silence on her way out.
Despite the gloves; her fingers bleed. Chill creeps in and she sits back on her heels, flexing sensation back into her appendages; dirt smeared across her cheek; collarbone. Pushes herself to her feet and
-- turns; dragging the sheet half from the bed.
"If I asked you to stay the night, would you?"
She's fishing for her shirt on the floor, it's wedged between two empty wine glasses and a heel. Stills, at the question. Feels his eyes on her bare skin as she turns away to pull it over her head; drag her hair out. Keep her expression guarded from him as she reaches for her skirt.
"You haven't asked."
"Stay the night?" She can hear the humor in it. The question punctuating the stir of sheets; the re-settling of his body against the pillows; arms framing both like the hook of an anchor. She turns around; shucking the sheet; hands working the zip back up her skirt. There's a twist of her lips then. She crosses the floor; then the mattress; to touch her mouth to his, smilingly.
"No." Refusal dosed in a kiss.
"Why?" His hand curling around her bicep (the anchor dragging her down); disappointment turning him sour; hard and angry, flavoring the injury in his eyes and she's pulling back (cutting loose); recoiling from the connection.
"Because you assume it means something when I do."
--
"And it doesn't? Do you not love him, this man?"
It's summer. Warm. Insects are buzzing. She's on a chaise lounge and Aisling is shuffling a tarot deck; iced tea on coasters on a side-table.
"God, what's love? I don't know what that means, Aisling. I should have cut him off. After - I should have ended that. It doesn't even mean anything anymore but I keep going back like I'm stuck on a god forsaken loop."
A low, noncommittal noise from the older woman with hair once black now peppered through with grey; fingers laden with rings laying out cards in formation. "Did you think becoming aware would make you wiser to all things at once? I think you'll run a very long way to escape the limits of your heart, Kiara Woolfe."
"Are you being wise now? Is this a lesson?"
"Look, the King of Swords. The Queen of Cups. Ah, the Five of Cups."
"Aisling."
"Come here, sit with me while I read your cards."
"You're crazy." She settles on her lap and leans their heads together, smiling into the pronouncement. A hand lifts to touch the edge of her jaw.
"The greater to see you with, little wolf."
--
The lights are out in the apartment when she returns. She turns them on; plays back messages on their machine and hovers by a closed door only to knock and turn the handle.
"Sadie?"
Flowers dying in a vase by the window; curled petals dripping to gather in a frail burial pile on the floor. She gathers them up; crushes and keeps them.
Closes the door on the silence on her way out.