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Post by Cian Lawrence on Apr 21, 2010 14:27:51 GMT -5
Cian had been feeling good that day. Since he woke up, there hadn't been the usual clawing notion that he was inept at nearly everything. In fact, for the first time that week, he felt normal. He had done normal things. Woke up, gave Emma a kiss, got dressed, made breakfast, kissed his kids, kissed Emma again, dancing around with Maura for seemingly no reason, played "airpane!" with Oliver... And now he was trying to work on his music. He had just sat down with his guitar and he was hopeful. Everything he had tried lately had been absolute and utter crap. Complete excrement. Wasn't even fit for a Miley Cyrus song it was so bad. But today... Today he thought he might be able to actually do something, get something done and have it be worthwhile. He strummed his guitar, immediately feeling a thrum throughout his body. He loved holding instruments... Working through a few basic scales and chords and such, he let his mind settle. Totally stress-free was how he was playing this one. No paper, sheet music or lyrics. He was just gonna play and see what came of it. He didn't want to try to hard, force it and have it be terrible. His fingers came alive then, separate of his mind. They picked out a slightly meloncholic melody, but with something like hope on the edges of the sound. Licking his lips, he exhaled slowly, and started to sing. Softly and to himself. "Sometimes I feel like I don't have a partner. Sometimes I feel like my only friend. Is the city I live in, the city of angels? Lonely as I am, together we cry." City of angels? Sure. More like angels and demons... He strummed once before restarting the melody, adding more words, flying off the cuff. After getting out another verse, he moved seamlessly into a chorus, adding a sort of percussive beat against the body of his guitar in beat. "I don't ever wanna feel like I did that day. Take me to the place I love, take me all the way. I don't ever wanna feel like I did that day. Take me to the place I love, take me all the way." Bobbing his head a little to the music, he let his eyes fall closed. Slipping away from himself, he got another verse in, now altering the music a little, speeding the tempo. Something in the back of his mind wondered how true the lyrics were to his life at that moment. But it was quickly replaced with thoughts on what note should come next and to which words.
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Post by Emma Lawrence on Apr 21, 2010 15:06:59 GMT -5
Only a few hours earlier she woke up to being kissed. Cian crawled out of bed a good thirty minutes before the thought even occured to her, and then it'd taken a while to actually pull herself from the sheets she was tangled in. The morning passed with its usual celerity, which was to be expected with two kids who could barely sit still for thirty seconds, and now the two small ones were eating lunch at the table, finally quiet, but only because there was food in their mouths. A soft melody rang in from the other room, kept up for a while, confident, but came to a sudden halt just as she thought it might put her to sleep. On her way through the door to investigate, she grabbed her navy hat, slapped it on her head, and draped her arms around Cian's neck from behind, lacing his neck with a kiss. "What's eating you, captain?" she asked, and although it was an entirely serious question, her words were marred with a few bits of laughter. Cian wasn't unfamiliar with rough patches in his work, but lately he'd been hitting so many, and they'd come in huge clusters. There were some days when he refused to hear any music at all--said it made him feel even more "inept," like it taunted him with what he couldn't produce or something. Well, if he wasn't going to tell her outright, she was going to purr it out of him.
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Post by Cian Lawrence on Apr 21, 2010 15:44:25 GMT -5
Feeling someone wrap their arms around him, Cian risked a grin. Emma kissed over his neck and he laughed softly at the tickling sensation. "What's eatin' me?" he repeated. "Well, right now, you are, love," he quipped, referring to the way her lips were moving over his skin.
Leaning back, he rested his head atop the back-rest to look up at her. Seeing her in the navy hat just made his grin break out even further. "Looks more like you're the capt'n than me, Em-n-Em," he pointed out, tapping the brim of her hat.
Exhaling softly, his fingers moved of their own accord, playing out the opening tune to 'Here Comes the Sun.' "I feel good today," he admitted with a soft smile. "Didja like the song? It's a little sad but...then also not, y' know?" He tried not to sound too excited about it. Just in case it all went downhill after that.
Arching up a little, he pressed his lips against hers for a brief, playful kiss. "Just tryin' t' use up the 'good'-ness while I still got it." He flashed her a wink to show he was only joking... Well, mostly.
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Post by Emma Lawrence on Apr 23, 2010 15:59:50 GMT -5
"Yes I am," she confirmed, "and may I say that you taste very good this afternoon?" All joking aside, something about the lyrics of his song had troubled her. True, they were "sad and yet not," as he put it, but based on his behavior in the recent past, she didn't want to be too careful and let something slip through her fingers because of her carelessness. Chuckling airily as he tapped her hat, she nodded. "Mhm. And you're my first mate. So you better report all problems to your captain so she can make things right." Or, at least attempt. She was tired of being useless around her own house. And now, she realized, would probably not be the best time to tell him that it wouldn't be their house for much longer now that they had to move because of her job. That news had yet to come.
With a loose nod, shrugging, she answered, "Yeah, I liked it. Kind of dreary, though, don't you think? Just wondering if something's up, hmm?" Taking up position on his lap, she grabbed a nearby pen and started to click and reclick it.
"What do you mean 'while you still got it'?" she inquired further. "You think it'll leave?"
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Post by Cian Lawrence on May 1, 2010 21:02:27 GMT -5
Cian laughed lightly at her quip, shaking his head at the lamer one about being the first mate. "Innit it the first mate's job to take care of all the problems before the captain can hear about 'em? So as not to bother 'er with the little things?" He sent her a beatific grin, strumming an almost Latin tone on the guitar.
"Dreary?" He asked, mouth coiling up. He reconsidered the lyrics he had sung on the spur and shrugged. "Yeah. S'ppose it is a bit." He shrugged again, eyes falling to his fingers laying stagnant over the strings. How could he tell her that he had been feeling rather dreary lately? It wasn't her fault; not at all. Cian didn't want her to think that.
At her next question, Cian let out a sigh, lifting his head again. Meeting her eyes steadily, he replied honestly, "Yeah." Her fingers twitched, wanting to muss his hair. "Yeah, 'cause 'it' hasn't been about for quite some times so I wanna grab it 'fore it leaves to wherever its been again."
He wasn't sure if that would make sense to her but it was all he had to tell her.
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Post by Emma Lawrence on May 8, 2010 19:47:57 GMT -5
"Nope," she negated quickly, not bothering to come up with any sort of explanation or support. When the wife had the upper hand, anything could get by just "because she said so." That, and she could easily pull her pathetic trigger and claim that she was good for nothing because he couldn't confide in her. Though taking in the circumstances, she doubted she'd ever do that to him--he looked down on himself already and she wasn't about to increase the pressure any. "And obviously it's not a 'little thing,'" she added smartly, "if you're so strung up about it. If you'll pardon the guitar pun."
Resting on the serious tone now, she snaked an arm around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder, positioned sideways on his lap. "Hmm," she mulled, letting her brain do the work while she played with the neckline of his shirt. "Sounds like you've quite the predicament." Damn his Irish influence making her resolve to grammatic contractions. "Think it's just the muses fluxuating like they do? Going through a rough patch of writer's block, maybe? I'm sure it's never gone completely."
Again? Again, he'd said? "What do you mean?"
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Post by Cian Lawrence on May 9, 2010 0:30:45 GMT -5
Cian let out a sigh as she mused over her problem. "Nah," he negated, feeling something like nerves rise through his throat. Oh, shite. He was going to tell her. He was going to give her the truth this time. He wasn't going to deflect and minimize or anything. He was going to tell her about the crushing self-doubt, the over-powering self-loathing. The thought that maybe it wasn't quite a thought or feeling but more...an impression. Like it wasn't him thinking or feeling it but someone else making him.
"Not so much a 'muse' thing as it is a 'me' thing," he went on carefully. His eyes dropped softly to the right. He stopped playing then, hand dropping over the strings to let out a final strum to disturb the air before resting on his leg. "Haven't been able to make things work lately; anything, not just music." He swallowed and had to work at not shoving a hand through his hair. "You've noticed; know you have." Of course she had. She'd have to be deaf, dumb and blind to not have and his wife was none of the three.
"It... Whatever it is, it's not as bad around Ollie." Then Cian finally gave in, scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Not sure why that is but it's like...something's eatin' at m' brain. Pickin' away and turnin' all that's good bad and...puttin' thoughts inside me. But when I'm 'round Oliver it's like the sound gets turned down or summat and I can hear reality again." Jesus, he was describing this all wrong...
"I... I dunno if that makes any sorta sense, love; sorry." He licked his lips, eyes gone sheepish. "What I mean is I've hit a bad patch...real bad patch." The muscles over his cheeks twitched, tightened. "And nothin' I seem to do or think or tell meself makes any of it any better." Jaw clenched, eyes tight, his fingers curled into material of his shorts.
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Post by Emma Lawrence on May 12, 2010 18:46:03 GMT -5
"You've noticed; know you have."
Well, there was no use in her play-dumb charade. He was too intuitive, and she was far too transparent. Things had been unusually off with Cian lately. It wasn't just his music or his uncommon frustration with every little thing he did, but he had become a sort of recluse. He hadn't spoken much, and whenever he did, his words were grimly somber and almost toneless, as if he were trying to snuff something out. Sitting up in defeat, she tried to avoid eye contact for now, scared of what she might discover.
Smoothing out the crinkles formed in her skirt, she said, though jarred by his monologue, "I know that feeling." No, not personally--she knew what it was like to have that self-loathing, but she knew the kind he was experiencing wasn't something he could overcome just through therapy or talking or mulling, even. It wasn't like what normal people underwent. It was something much more defined, much more purposeful, and when she said she knew how it felt, she meant she'd heard those exact words before and knew the cause.
The familiarity wasn't exactly a friendly greeting between her and her past, but she knew she had to face it for Cian. There was no other way to free him. "It's funny that it dulls around Oliver," she scoffed, though still troubled. "Explains a bit, though, I suppose, if you can connect the dots that one way." She knew she was probably only perplexing him further, so she exerted a heavy sigh before adding more lucidly, "It makes sense, don't worry. I've heard it before from someone who was very close to me at one point."
Matching gazes, she knew he'd catch on without any sort of candor on her part. "Cian..." And God, she didn't like saying the words any more than she knew he liked to hear them. "I think it may be Azrael." Not wanting to let it sink in, hoping to overcome any initial panic, she continued. "Do you hear a voice? Have you felt...odd? Like you're not alone?"
Thank her Jesus that he hadn't become violent yet. If anything happened to her kids...
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Post by Cian Lawrence on May 12, 2010 19:08:23 GMT -5
"I know that feeling."
Cian's head popped up at that, eyebrows knitting together. "Y' have?" he asked. She had? She had experienced this crushing, resounding sense of failure? The thought that honestly everything would just be better off if he weren't about to muck it all up? Jesus, he hoped not. He didn't wish this feeling on anyone; no one. Especially not her. Because she was so...not...that. She was... The world was a better place because of her. A much better place. Not so much with him.
"It's funny that it dulls around Oliver." Cian cocked his head at that, brow still furrowed. Why was that funny? He had found it odd, certainly. But he usually felt a little better around Ollie so why would this be any different? "Explains a bit, though, I suppose, if you can connect the dots that one way. It makes sense, don't worry. I've heard it before from someone who was very close to me at one point." What in all hell was she talking about? It made sense? She had heard it before.... From someone who was very close to her... Saikoro. It was either Saikoro or Dean, but Saikoro was the only one of them who had been possessed and... 'Kin hell, did she really think that he was possessed? That Azra-fucking-el was inside him? A sort of panic spread through his mind...
"I think it may be Azrael."
Of course. What else would it be? He took in a shaky breath, not sure exactly how to handle that, process it.
"Do you hear a voice? Have you felt...odd? Like you're not alone?"
He shook his head at that first question but then she went on. And he had to agree. Had to answer yes. Because "odd" was certainly a good way of describing how he had been feeling. And not alone... Hell yes. It was like someone else had been in his head, telling him all those negative things about himself. Not quite a voice, but a presence... Shit.
Cian rose suddenly, shoving a hand roughly through her hair. "Fuck," he swore harshly. Pacing across the room, he turned on the balls of his feet and continued back the way he had come. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." Meeting Emma's eyes, he breathed unsteadily. "Emma... Emma, I don't want him in me. I don't want..." He didn't want to be how Saikoro had been. He didn't want to scare his wife or hurt her or any of her children. Swallowing, he chewed on his lower-lip, eyes and voice desperate. "I... Emma... How do I... There's gotta be a way to get him out? Right? I mean... I can't have him in me!"
He was acting irrationally, he knew, but he couldn't... Couldn't do anything more. Couldn't...
"Fuck," he said, practically in a sob. He couldn't have Azrael inside him. His mind was his mind! It was his and... Fuck. He dropped to his knees, burying his face in her lap. Bringing his hands to his head, he wove his fingers through his hair. Letting go of himself, he reached for her hesitantly, hands holding to her sides, face still hidden in her legs.
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Post by Emma Lawrence on May 12, 2010 19:22:14 GMT -5
He rose and she was shoved from her place on his lap, jarred, stumbling on her feet as she watched piteously as he paced. Slowly, she let her legs, shaking under the sheer weight of her thoughts, lower her back down on to the chair. What was there to do but comfort him at this point? Though she knew she wouldn't be able to get a hold of him right now (probably end up getting shoved to the side as he continued his tirade), there was that undeniable sense to be near him, knowing the fear, knowing that it was hard to hear and digest.
It appeared that she'd hit the nail on the head with the final query, and yet it didn't console her any. "I know you don't," she choked dryly, unable to find her solid voice to use to help him. "And I don't either. But there's nothing you can do about it now. He's there. I'm sorry, it's the truth, and I know the truth is a bitch, but..." Inhaling raggedly, she averted her gaze. "Yes, there are ways to get him out." They were going to be difficult to wheedle out and equally difficult to accomplish, but they had to be done.
Cian fell at her feet and she grabbed his hands, yes shimmering with tears mellowed with fear and distraught. "You're still you," she assured him in a whisper, drawing her hand slowly over the top of his head, tracing over his cheek and resting it on his jaw line. "You're still Cian Lawrence, my husband, my children's father. He's just using you. Ignoring him is going to be easier said than done, it will, but you have to remember that you're still one-up on him. Because I love you and that is not going to change." When he buried his face in her skirt, tears began to fall down her cheeks but she wiped them away uselessly.
"We'll find a way to free you. I promise that much."
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Post by Cian Lawrence on May 12, 2010 19:43:03 GMT -5
Fuck. This was... All that he had been feeling, it had been Azrael. That was so... He felt so goddamn stupid. He felt like a fucking child. He couldn't even control his own thoughts and feelings! It was like... Like someone had robbed him of his identity. Because who was he without his mind? And he couldn't control that so... Fuck, he was no one.
"Yes, there are ways to get him out."
A sprig of hope blossomed, but he kept it carefully contained. "How?" he croaked. "How?!" He needed to know. He would do anything. Anything to have this bastard out of him. Because it just wasn't fair to have him needling inside his head, changing what he was really thinking and feeling for his own amusement and device.
"You're still you. You're still Cian Lawrence, my husband, my children's father. He's just using you. Ignoring him is going to be easier said than done, it will, but you have to remember that you're still one-up on him. Because I love you and that is not going to change."
Cian lifted his face, tears sparking just beneath his eyes. He wanted to believe her so much. "But I'm not," he replied, voice tight and hoarse. "I'm me with him mixed in, corrupting me. I'm not me. I still love you and I love you and Ollie and Mo more than anything..." He should leave. He should go away until he had gotten Azrael out of his mind. To keep them safe; safe from him. God, he fucking hated that! He hated that he couldn't trust himself to not hurt his family....
But he could. He could. Of that one thing, he was sure. He would never --never-- hurt Emma, Ollie or Maura. No matter what happened. He would kill himself before he laid a hand to his wife or one of his kids. "Emma," he began. Taking her hands, he straightened up a bit to meet her eyes dead-on. "I would never hurt you or Oliver or Maura. I swear to you. It won't be like with Saikoro." He forced himself to not look at the scar over her arm. "I promise you that. I would kill myself before I hurt any of you. It won't be like it was with Saikoro."
Which meant he couldn't leave. He couldn't disappear on Emma like Saikoro had. He wouldn't do that. He didn't want to do that. His family was his life and he would hate to be apart from them. He would stay and do whatever it took to get Azrael the fuck out of his head.
"We'll find a way to free you. I promise that much."
He nodded and licked her lips. "I need to know how, Emma."
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Post by Emma Lawrence on May 12, 2010 20:00:59 GMT -5
His demands were worse than the affirmation that he was indeed the host to a demon. Because she didn't know how. She couldn't answer. She couldn't answer without letting him down, without failing, without giving him that little spark of hope that he desperately needed--deserved--and she could barely live with that alone. Emma's stomach turned in on itself and she felt her chin tremble.
She absolutely could not be looking into the eyes of Azrael again. He'd traumatized her as a child, she never wanted to know he was alive ever again. He'd almost killed her baby, he'd taken her hostage, he...he was inside her husband. Hell fucking no, this was not happening. Disheartened, she wasn't sure how to say anything at this point, let alone what words would emerge.
"I'm me with him mixed in, corrupting me. I'm not me. I still love you and I love you and Ollie and Mo more than anything..."
"I know, I know." She wasn't sure if reassuring him would do any good, but she was praying. Right now it didn't seem to be promising, since he'd wholly negated her opinions before. "I know what he's doing to you, believe me, I do. I know, Cian, and I'm going to work with you to get rid of him. Just don't go." Her voice hitched and she dropped her head as she tried to stifle the oncoming tears.
Don't go--don't run away, don't give up, don't die. Please don't let him win. Whatever you do.
This feeling of doubtless helplessness weighed on her. She wouldn't know what to do with herself if he died. Azrael was going to eat him from the inside out and take him over and she'd be at the mercy of the devil and... Cian... She just couldn't lose him. And he couldn't lose himself. He didn't deserve any of this. Not to be tormented, not to die.
"I would never hurt you or Oliver or Maura. I swear to you. It won't be like with Saikoro. I promise you that. I would kill myself before I hurt any of you. It won't be like it was with Saikoro."
She reacted strongly, forcing, "No," from her throat. Emma grabbed his face in her hands. "No you won't. You can't. You won't be like him because you're not him. You're Cian." Pleas turned into sobs. "You're my Cian, and I'm not going to let you go through this. You're mine, okay? You're mine!" He couldn't...couldn't go through this...
Bleary-eyed and just short of bawling, she clung onto the fabric of his shirt at his shoulders, hiding her face away, not knowing whether it was out of shame or fear. "I don't know how, Cian. I really don't know."
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Post by Cian Lawrence on May 12, 2010 20:26:29 GMT -5
"I know what he's doing to you, believe me, I do. I know, Cian, and I'm going to work with you to get rid of him. Just don't go."
"I won't," Cian promised, words tripping over one another. "I won't, I promise. I don't want to make things hard for you but... I can't leave you." But the kids. Mo and Ollie didn't deserve to have to deal with seeing their father decline like he was. "But... Maura and Oliver." His heart clenched in his chest at that. He couldn't believe he was about to suggest sending his children away. But it would be for their own good. And only for a little while. Just until he got better.
"No you won't. You can't. You won't be like him because you're not him. You're Cian." Pleas turned into sobs. "You're my Cian, and I'm not going to let you go through this. You're mine, okay? You're mine!"
Seeing her break down like that was the end of him. Shaking his head, he rose, settling himself on the couch. Pulling his wife to him, he hid his face in her collar, hands gripping at her upperarms. And he cried. Cian sobbed like he had last done only as a child. He cried like he had after screaming at the sky for his sister back at four years old. His back quaked with the force of it all and he felt a hopelessly seep into him.
It was a long time before he had calmed. Still nestled against her, his breathing came in shaky little gasps, fingers clenching and releasing at her arms.
"I don't know how, Cian. I really don't know."
She didn't know. She didn't know and he didn't know and Sai had only done it by leaving and he wouldn't do that... Someone had to know. "There has to be some way," he gasped out. "Someone has to know some way... Saikoro," he suggested, "Or Colette or Dean or..." God? God had spoken before to them know. 'God, please. I don't want to leave this family, this life. Not yet.' She had said herself. He and Emma were went to be. This couldn't be there destiny. There had to be a cure.
Enlivened by this thought, he pulled his face away from her body. "We... I need to talk to Dean," he decided. Dean would be able to help him. Would make him think straight, at the very least. But he didn't want to go; not just yet. He just wanted to be with Emma, head clear of Azrael for the moment, for a little longer.
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Post by Emma Lawrence on May 12, 2010 20:37:23 GMT -5
Maura and Oliver. And him and her. And his family, and his friends, and their life together. And their past and their future. And how all that could be stripped away. And God, how she cried. She knew he was the one in need of comfort and arms and homes and hearts and minds but she absolutely couldn't swallow the thought of losing him. Not to this monster. Not to anything. And the sense of being alone in this, with nothing to grab onto, no knowledge to run with...it wasn't looking too good for him and their prospects.
Emma felt violated. Like her life had been raped. Her livelihood, her normality, her routine, her happiness had been intruded and trashed; torn apart; demolished. At the expense of Cian. Her thoughts were choppy and lacked fluidity of any kind.
He might have held her arms but she'd thrown her arms around him and cinched her fingers into the back of his shirt, never wanted to release him. "I love you, I love you so much. I can't let you go. I can't relive this. I don't want you to get hurt. At all." Physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually...
Cian pulled back and she moved her hands to keep contact, but not so tight. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she tilted her head away. "I know there is a way. I did something to help Sai get him out, but...we never really figured out what it was. And my memory is foggy; I was six months pregnant and panicked and he was dying on the ground..." Catching herself, she shook her head fervently. He wasn't going to be on the verge of dying. She wouldn't let it come to that.
Picking her head back up, Emma nodded. "All right. If that's what you need to do. But I want to be with you every step of the way. I'm not letting you alone for a minute." Didn't know what that bastard was going to do to him.
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Post by Cian Lawrence on May 12, 2010 20:47:43 GMT -5
Rubbing at her back, he pressed his face against her neck. He drew her nose over her skin, dropping soft, desperate kisses there. "I love y' too, Emma. I love you more than anything. I don't want to lose you." His arms flexed, holding her tighter, closer.
Nodding as she spoke of what she had done with Sai, Cian struggled to keep his cool. There was... This seemed so hopeless; they were so helpless in this. "It's okay," he promised. "That won't be me." He wouldn't let it get to that point. And if it somehow did, he certainly wouldn't let it happen before Emma's eyes. "That won't be us." They would find something else; something that would work just as well, better.
"All right. If that's what you need to do. But I want to be with you every step of the way. I'm not letting you alone for a minute."
Cian nodded his confirmation. But not yet. "Not yet," he repeated in a whisper. "Not yet. I don't want to leave you yet." He held her tighter. "Just want... Want to feel you holdin' me." To know that he was still in control of his body, that he could still feel what he wanted to not what Azrael was making it for him.
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Post by Emma Lawrence on May 12, 2010 20:58:52 GMT -5
Forehead to his, Emma rubbed his arm, shuddering at the realization that she was touching Cian's skin, but Azrael was watching her. He was watching her every move, and controlling some of Cian's. He was taunting him from the inside. He was watching her love him, touch him, talk to him, hearing every word. "No matter what he says to you, just remind yourself of what I've said. We all love you, that's not going to change. No matter what happens to any of us. What he's going to feed you are lies. They're going to sound so real and so true, but you have to believe that they're not. What we're telling you is going to come from the bottom of our hearts. He's going to make it seem as if we're fake. Don't take comfort in his presence. Please, Cian, I can't watch you do this if you don't have resistence."
If he was going to work like she knew he was to get out of this, he'd be going through pain. Mountains and mountains of pain.
His subtle, vague reassurances were enough for her right now. Complying with hefty gratitude to his request, she nodded, hands laying across his collarbones before she bestowed the tiniest of kisses on his lips; had to keep telling herself she was not kissing Azrael, she was kissing her husband. A wave of paranoia washed over her but dissolved quick enough. The feeling was, thankfully, volatile, and she felt all right being around him, without fear. Just taking in the moment.
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Post by Cian Lawrence on May 15, 2010 21:53:13 GMT -5
Cian just pressed his face further into her neck, wanting to hide from it all. She knew what she was saying was true, knew that there was love all around him, for him. He knew he couldn't believe what he was told, that everything was just another twist to manipulate him and make him destroy himself.
He knew all that now.
But would he be able to believe that when he was firmly in Azrael's grip? Would he be able to get past all the poison and spite and venom pumping through his veins, put there by his own mind? Would he be able to when he was tainted?
He would sure as hell try.
Emma dropped a shallow kiss to his lips but it was not what he needed. He kept his lips against hers in a heated embrace, desperately leaning into her. His arms came tighter around her shoulder, pressing himself to occupy the same space as her, defy physics. He wanted --needed-- reassurance. This was still his body. These were his lips pressed to his wife's. These were his fingers weaving through his wife's hair.
This was him. With her.
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Post by Emma Lawrence on May 15, 2010 22:03:59 GMT -5
"Answer me," she begged. Going wordless was like slipping into being lost, into that void that was near impossible to escape. The less he spoke, the more she assumed he was scared, and that his barriers were weakening with his own "what ifs." She knew he couldn't just stop thinking about it--if anything, Azrael would make sure he was always in the forefront of his mind--but if he really wanted to relax, he had to roll with the punches and resist the demon's. If he wanted to be in the moment, he couldn't worry about the future. There was nothing to worry about if she knew how to help him.
As if to weld their flesh together, he brought them close. This was him, him, him, not the other. Him, not the other. Repetition did little, and she felt herself under the shadow of Azrael's looming attack again. Emma wasn't afraid of her husband, but how could she convince him of that when she told herself she wanted to get away? Cian was so vulnerable, and Azrael's eruptions were so unpredictable. What if he wanted to show himself now? Now, while she was in Cian's arms?
Suddenly she felt empty. The embrace felt empty. And the scar on her arm burned. "I'm sorry, I know you need contact at the moment. But..." Her voice trailed off meagerly. "Just believe me when I say it's me and not you?"
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Post by Cian Lawrence on May 15, 2010 22:12:35 GMT -5
Hearing the pleading in Emma's voice, Cian forced himself to lie to her. Nodding, he told her raggedly, "I promise. I promise I'll remember. I won't let him..." Let him what? He left it there. Not able to think of what the presence within him would and could accomplish. Not able to or not willing to.
Emma tensed and he felt it. She retreated and he knew. Swallowing, he nodded but it killed him to do it. He understood but he wished he didn't have to. He didn't blame her --couldn't-- but he wished he could. It wasn't her fault after all. It was his. All his. All this was him.
"I know," he told her in a barely-there voice. "I just..." Nothing. Nothing to say, nothing to think, nothing to feel. Nothing; like him. Pulling from him, he felt dark edge into his chest. Could feel something clawing inside his head like an animal. He didn't want but that made no difference. "I'm sorry, Emma," he whispered, eye clenched shut. "I'm so sorry you have to go t'rough this again."
Because this was hell for him but two-fold for her.
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Post by Emma Lawrence on May 15, 2010 22:25:05 GMT -5
If there had been anything she could have done to keep her muscles from clenching, to keep her brain from going to that place that she hated to revisit, she would have. The last thing either of them needed was him blaming himself for her fears. There was nothing about Cian that frightened her. His body was merely a suit for Azrael, which was the only reason touch and feel were taken with precautions. The rest of him she wanted wholly and unconditionally. She had to make him see that. But how could she?
"It's not about me," she insisted, and though she had resisted him before, now sat upright beside him, holding onto his hands. "Right now you have to be selfish. My advice might not be," she scoffed, "the best or most insightful, or even helpful, but after seeing what Sai went through, I think I have an idea of what's to come. I just want you to think about you. Don't take me or my feelings into consideration--not even the kids'. The more you focus on yourself and your sense of self the faster he'll be gone. The rest of us will be safe if you do that." Emma took a long, pensive breath. "So I don't want to hear you apologize."
Oh, fuck, the kids. Taking a quick glance over the top of the couch to see into the kitchen, she spied them using their sleeves for napkins but didn't much care. "Ollie? Mo?" she called tenderly, and they both responded adequately to their names. "C'mere, please?" They obeyed with eager curiosity, and both squirmed up onto the couch, Ollie in between them and Maura settling comfortably on her Da's lap.
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