Drabble 08

                                      Forgiveness

Near blinding, throbbing pain was what awaited him upon awakening. Lezard let out a small moan as he struggled to open his eyes, wincing from the pounding his head was doing. He could feel the pain, spiking over his eyes, trailing down to his cheek, making him wonder if he had been grinding his teeth in his sleep again. His jaw ached, and the pain trickled down his neck into his shoulder, sending the muscles into spasms there.

~I really did it this time.~ He thought with a weak chuckle, his head crying out against the sound. He dimly looked around, finding himself not snuggled up in his comfortable bed, but sprawled out on the cold stone of his library floor. He struggled to sit up, and his body protested the movement, a wave of nausea passing over him. A hand clamped over his mouth, desperate to keep down the bile he felt rising inside him, even as he berated himself for drinking himself into this pitiful state.

Drinking…he had been drinking…he could see the proof of it next to him. A half empty crystal container, uncorked with some of it’s amber contents spilled out onto the floor. Not nearly enough had been imbibed to explain away the intense pain his head was feeling. His brow furrowed as Lezard tried to remember. Dimly, dimly a vague memory filtered into his mind….of him bashing his head against the wall, over and over, screaming out a name….her name, as he raged against something. More intense concentration, Lezard trying to shove down the pain, trying to think. What had driven him to that point, what had he tried to use drink to forget?

The combination of drink and head bashing had worked almost too well, he couldn’t remember….didn’t want to he realized. That was a clue in of itself. What could be so bad that it made him want to forget? His eyes cast about the room for some clue, anything to bring back the memories. Lezard became aware of the mess on the floor, of scattered books and papers littering the ground near his desk. An inkwell lay knocked over on it’s side, hanging precariously close to the desk’s edge, it’s contents emptied out onto the floor below.

Leaning against the wall for support, Lezard slowly eased himself up, fighting back dizziness as he stood. He took stumbling steps towards the desk, looking at how it had nearly been wiped clean of it’s contents. He frowned, seeing bits of shredded cloth on it’s wood surface, the material feeling like satin under his fingertips. A lone strand of hair, immeasurable long, and glinting platinum lay curled up in the center of the desk. He touched it, realizing with a flash that Lenneth had been here. Lenneth! It was as if the recalling of her name, caused all the memories to come flooding back, Lezard letting out a pained cry as he realized what he had done, what he had almost done to her.

What he would have written off as a drink induced dream was only all too real. Her body under his, thrashing about, trying to get away. He recalled how her skin had looked illuminated in the torch light, how the light had played on her paleness, giving her homunculus body an ethereal quality to it. His hands burned as they recalled how her skin had felt, how soft and supple her breasts were, ready and waiting to be molded by his touch. His tongue came out, licking across dry chapped lips as he recalled how she had tasted. His senses were flooded with the memory of her, touch, taste, scent and sound, the memory of how she had looked burnt into his eyes.

Even as he closed them, he could still see her, how tempting she had looked, how irresistible her body had seemed. He was ashamed to admit he still vividly recalled the perverse thrill he had gotten from handling her against her will, relief that it hadn’t gone any farther warring with the disappointment that he had had to stop. Guilt flashed at that, and he cursed himself, ready to condemn himself for having wanted to continue on despite her distress.

~Lenneth.~ He sighed heavily, slumping forward to lay a top the desk. He placed his cheek there, rubbing it against the wood, imagining he could still feel her presence embedded on the grain. He stared at the strand of hair that lay just to the front of his nose, and his hand reached up to touch it. Carefully tracing his fingertip along it’s length, a slight shudder wracking his body from touching something that belong to her.

Lezard wasn’t sure how long he laid there, the windowless room offering him no hint of the sun’s position in the sky. He continued to stare at the strand of her hair, berating himself in his mind for his boorish behavior. He had acted no better than one of those barbarians he looked down upon, thinking not with his mind, bit with his base lusts, and he was ashamed at how easily he had lost control of all reason upon seeing her topless. Had those precious stolen moments of bliss been worth it? Yes…no…maybe….he just didn’t know!

Pressing his palms flat against the surface, he pushed himself up off the desk. He gave one last look around the room, intending to clean up the mess later, when his head didn’t hurt so badly. Still thinking on the previous evening’s debacle, Lezard headed off to bed. But somehow, perhaps unsurprisingly he ended up outside of her room, the details of his travel a complete blur to him.

He cautiously knocked, waiting for an answer that did not come. His hand hovered over the doorknob, Lezard hesitant and unsure. He found he had to gather his courage, steel his nerves to face her. “I’m coming in.” He called out in warning to her, pushing the door inwards. The sound of porcelain shattering greeted his ears, splashes of water leaping up to soak his shirt. Lezard blinked, sparing a glance at the mess on the floor, seeing the shattered vase, it’s colorful flowers laying scattered on the ground, remnants of water pooling at his feet. “I take it you didn’t like the flowers.” He murmured ruefully.

Lenneth made a small noise in the back of her throat, a scoffing sound as she lowered her arm, glaring at him. Her blue eyes blazed bright with anger and mistrust, and her hair spread about her wild and untamed, reminding him very much of her spirit.

Lezard sighed, stepping carefully around the remains of the vase, taking care not to trample the flowers. He reached out with one hand, easing shut the door behind him, but was careful to keep his eyes on the Valkyrie should she take to throwing anything else at him. He was all too aware of the things within her reach, of the light but sharp edge statues, of the water pitcher on her night stand, the multitude of flower vases. The Valkyrie could have a field day tossing things at him, and he questioned himself as a fool for decorating her room with an arsenal that was beautiful to look at, but could be deadly if wielded by the right hands.

He stepped towards her, keenly aware of her movements, seeing how she backed away from him, her body language stiff and cautious. Lezard sighed, coming to a stop in the center of the room, just staring at her. She gazed back at him, and the silence stretched on, neither one wanting to be the first to speak. But then…it was typical behavior for her, the Valkyrie’s tongue had been much stilled since her transformation into a human. He sighed, supposing she’d be even less inclined to speak to him now after what had transpired between them.

Lenneth was shifting, growing increasingly uncomfortable with his stare, bringing sleeve covered arms up over her chest. She rubbed at her arms, trying to stifle back a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. She was lovely even in her discomfort, clad in a long white nightgown that trailed down over her bare feet. It was one of the more modest outfits he had picked out for her, loose instead of form fitting, with a higher cut neckline than that of the generous dip of most of her dresses.

“Forgive me for staring…” Lezard said quietly, breaking the silence. Lenneth merely looked at him in disdain. He bit his tongue, fighting the urge to proclaim her lovely, knowing she would not want to hear such words right at this moment. “No…” He shook his head, and found himself moving forward. She let out a gasp at his sudden movement, and all but flew to the nearby wall, back bumping against the stones.

Lezard paused again, just looking at her, seeing the rise and fall of her chest as she took in deep breathes of air. He wondered how fast her heart beat at his approach, and he cursed himself again for inspiring fear to rise in on her. “I meant to say….forgive me for last night…My…behavior was atrocious.” The stumbling words tumbled out, gruff and low. “I…didn’t mean for that to happen, and I’m sorry.”

Lenneth just stared at him, seemingly unmoved by his apology. He moved nearer, and she all but scrunched herself up into the wall, extreme mistrust radiating off of her. Almost without thinking he found himself before her, hands slamming into the wall on either side of her body. “Lenneth…you must know…you have to understand! How truly sorry I am for what I did…” But was he really? Standing here now before her, seeing her quiver, scenting her nervousness, it reminded him much of last night and the excitement he had felt when he had dominated her.

“I am a weak excuse for a man.” He at last whispered, bowing his head against her’s, forehead brushing against her bangs. He let out a cry when her lips parted, a single sentence of agreement. “Yes…you are.”

He was sinking, down, down to the floor he went, knees thumping heavily into the carpet. Lenneth flinched as his hands touched her hips, the necromancer unable to resist a teasing touch, a caress across her covered skin. He was then wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her close, burying his head against her stomach. He was surprised to find tears dripping down his face, a soft wail emerging from his lips as he begged, practically demanded forgiveness and absolution from his Goddess.

“Forgive me….forgive me….” He whispered over and over again. “I would never harm you on purpose…I love you, I need you. I worship and adore you.” It became his mantra, his shield against her anger. Over and over, the same words, with little to no variation to them.

Her hands moved, and he shut his eyes against the sight of them, prepared himself for the coming blow. But it was not with force she touched him, but a gentle soft touch, smoothing back his hair. Lezard’s eyes flew open, and he titled his head upwards to gaze into Lenneth’s eyes. Her head was bent downwards, her blue eyes looking as lost and confused as his must surely be. She continued with her gentle touches, and he sighed, grateful for them. When at last she spoke, it lifted up his spirits, his headache seeming to flee from his body.

“I know…” Was all she said. It was, he realized with a shaky sigh, enough.