Closed to Allison || i tried going against my own soul's warning

[the_nose]

WHO: Cyrano and Allison
WHERE: Allison's place
WHEN: October 2nd on--basically, the duration of Elora
WHAT: Cyrano just came by to drop off a jacket. Now he's stuck inside with Allison...and it does not suck.
WARNINGS: Discussions of death and violence, possibly something sexy--mild stuff, anything graphic will be taken somewhere private. XD

She'd left her jacket at work--he'd spied it on a bench in the employee locker room, recognized it, and couldn't in good conscience let her go without when the weather was taking such a nasty turn.

So, he did the only gentlemanly thing: he picked up some food (tacos--he had a taste for them, and the mention of them always made her smile since their little 'outing') and stopped by at her place to drop her jacket off, with dinner.

They ate. She offered him a drink--they talked for a little while.

A little while became hours, and by the time he was ready to leave the sky was opening up.

"I swear, I'll be fine--it's just a little rain!"

A peal of thunder rang out, making the glass panes of her windows rattle--and Allison was forcibly dragging him away from her front door.

Thus, Cyrano was in t-shirt and boxer briefs, laid out on her couch to sleep--but it was difficult through the storm. As the night progressed, the rain got worse, but instead of soothing him Cyrano felt electrified. Too many beers, too many laughs, too strange a place...

Flipping back his borrowed blanket, Cyrano rose from the couch and crept around as quietly as he could, searching for paper and pen.

Perhaps he wasn't quiet enough. Perhaps he wasn't the only one haunted by the storm--but if Allison is awake or about, the warm glow of a side table lamp will draw her into the furthest corner of her living room, where Cyrano is using a borrowed book as a writing desk from his place seated on the floor, furiously writing with quiet, impassioned curses under his breath--and several pages of poetry already stacked neatly on the floor beside him.

Comments

[nosuchthingasfate]

It was her turn for her gaze to dart away as she wanted to believe his words but she just...couldn't. "No, I did some bad things and it just didn't feel right to be with him after that. I tried to be better, to believe that my family could be better but now all I can do is hope that my Dad will be okay."

Then she focused on him again, smiling a bit as she reached out to touch his shoulder. "It's not so bad, you know. The nose? I know that you're self-conscious about it but it doesn't really change who you are. It doesn't actually define who you are as a man."

"Quand on a pas ce que l’on aime, il faut aimer ce que l’on a." She murmured, giving his shoulder a squeeze before letting go. "I know that's easier said than done sometimes though."

[the_nose]

She said with such casual ease—that it wasn’t bad. She looked into his face, so quiet and so sincere that he could not summon an ounce of rage or indignant offense. She spoke it as truth...

And for one brief moment, he believed her.

He believed...and as she continued, wondered that she should tell him to love what he had when she sat there before him...

Reaching for her hand before she could withdraw it completely, he caught her fingers with a wisp of a smile and just held on for a moment before he drew them to his lips to press a warm kiss against her knuckles.

“A soldier cannot question their orders—but questioning your actions just makes you human. And a better one than you give yourself credit for, mon amie.”

[nosuchthingasfate]

Perhaps that was the difference. She didn't comment about his nose with the intent to ridicule him in some way or to point out his shortcomings. She didn't even notice them though she knew everyone had some. She definitely had a few of her own.

She started to retreat but then he caught her hand, causing her to still again as she watched him lift her hand so he could press a kiss against her knuckles. It was such a tender action that she felt a small wash of warmth spread up her arm as she returned the wisp of a smile.

"Maybe," She shrugged a little, looking almost sheepish. "Either way, all I can do is try, right? To be better?"

[the_nose]

"I'd say you've passed tryin' and straight into success." he mused, his smile growing. Without much thought, he kept hold of her hand, lifting it to press his cheek to the backs of her fingers, rubbing back and forth just a little to feel the softness of her skin against his. It calmed something deep within him...it felt right.

He had so little in the way of human contact out of violence or obnoxious jostling of his comrades, or the paid attentions of a whore...

"Beyond Roxane, you may be the best woman I have ever known, Allison Argent." he replied quietly, honestly, before kissing her fingers one more time and releasing her hand with heavy reluctance in favor of resting a hand on her knee as he prepared to stand.

"Mon Dieu--I'm keepin' you awake. You need sleep, mon amie."

[nosuchthingasfate]

Maybe he wasn't aware of it but she most certainly was aware of every move he made and everything she felt when he pressed his cheek against her fingers to rub against them. Almost nuzzling like a cat seeking a bit of affection.

For just a second, she wanted...something. Just something that felt good to ease the ache in the middle of her chest and the cold knot of loneliness that was eating away at her soul. It was easier with him around as a friend, as someone who understood her, but for just a moment she wanted something more.

It made her cheeks feel hot as she smiled up at him, watching as he moved his hand to her knee and started to stand. "It's okay, I...can't sleep a lot of the time."

[the_nose]

Oh.

That stung--bled a little for how very well he understood that admission. Bludgeoned into sleep by drink on the bad nights, seeking out strong coffee on the worse ones. What secrets, he wondered, kept her awake at night? Surely not the longings and the yearnings of a broken and hopeless heart like his...

What could possibly darken the soul of one so noble?

Once back on his feet, Cyrano straightened--then hesitated, and bent to catch her hand again, gently tugging her to her feet.

"Well, if we're not meant to sleep--perhaps we can do more than let our own demons swallow us up." he offered. "Over coffee?"

[nosuchthingasfate]

Allison didn't want to tell him that it was the howl of monsters or the shadows of death that kept her awake. Or memories of what she had seen or had even done when her own darkness had overtaken her, nudged along by a man who should have cared more about her well being than anything.

She started to rise to her feet on her own but paused as he caught her hand to aid her. Then she smiled again, nodding somewhat in relief when he suggested coffee rather than urging her to go to bed and try to sleep as others might have.

"I'm up for that. I'll make us a pot." She tugged at his hand, moving to head into her kitchen.