And love itself is just as innocent as roses in May (CLOSED)

[fogsong]

Who: Sharon Da Silva (fogsong ) & Mayerling (whowillmourn )
What: What the characters are doing.
When: Backdated to Late-Mid April
Where: Mayerling & D's place

Content Warnings: cursing, discussions of death and dying

The first few days following her death and rebirth were spent isolating; drowning out the memories with whatever substances she had on hand—mostly just the rest of her weed stash and liquor—and watching mindless television shows from home. She upgraded pretty quickly to painting, though, as she cataloged her feelings and promptly shut them up and away. It was all about finding some mental distance between the horrors of her corruption, a bitter, painful reminder of her years as Alessa, and the death that followed her, hungry for recognition.

Her isolation doesn't last long, not long enough to be truly notable when she's known for holing up in the house for a few days to focus on one painting or the other. She thinks it'll be easy to fool everyone. Trench always finds a way to rile her and any strangeness to her attitude would be easy to rule off.

The first person she visits following her isolation is Mayerling. She'd thought of texting him right when she came back but that little voice in the back of her head that doesn't wish to be a burden wiggled its way into her brain and made itself home so she buries it. Swallows it down like bile. There was no reason to worry anyone about this. It was just death.

But despite the days between her death and return, he still manages to pick up on it. Damn those vampire senses and that ability of his to read her (some part of her likes that, though). He doesn't take it well. In fact, it's like he thinks he's somehow at fault. As if he could've stopped it. Except it happened in broad daylight, days away from Trench, because of corruption and beasthood. And she makes certain to tell him there was no stopping that. Her death was necessary. "No biggie".

Comments

[whowillmourn]

Mayerling stares down at Sharon as she calls her death 'no biggie.' Unimpressed. Underwhelmed. Overwhelmed. His emotions feel so large that all of Trench should sense them. His senses attune to Sharon, only paying heed to the world around them for threats and dangers.

"If it were no biggie, you would not have changed your habits," Mayerling says, "You wouldn't have delayed on telling me. Even if you wanted time alone, as you sometimes do, you would have let me know."

He reaches for Sharon's hand, only to stare further down between them. His hand is the Mayerling claw, fully transformed and metal. That gets his focus for a moment, as he wills it back to a hand. It stays as it is. When he reaches out with his other hand, it too is a claw. Mayerling frowns and doesn't take Sharon's hands, either of them.

"It was your first time dying, yes?"

He doesn't want to think about his hands. He wants to sweep her up and into his coffin. He wants to sweep her into the depths of D's coffin, far from anyone's reaches. He does neither. Sharon is her own woman, not to be locked away against her will. Mayerling can go with her, rather than the other way around. He can change his schedule to be there for her. If anyone wants to kill her again, they'll have to go through him.

[fogsong]

Point: Mayerling. Her lips twitch, the barest hint of a frown, but she maintains an air of nonchalance, though her breathing picks up, nerves rattling under her skin as her brain tries to find excuses and meaning behind her own actions.

"It was," she admits as she drops her gaze to his hands—claws. That's unusual. That's suspicious. The shift in her attention and demeanor is instantaneous, from easy-breezy to disquieted. She reaches for one of his claws. Slowly. Carefully. Gently, "I just needed a few days to find myself again," softly, "It's been a very long time since I felt like that and I just... needed to remember that wasn't me."

Death was awful, what she can remember of it, but it wasn't the worst thing about it. It was everything else that led up to it. It was the rage in her. The hate, hungry enough to devour the world, "I was afraid I wasn't Sharon anymore."

She grips his claw as if it were no different than his hand, bothered only by the abnormality of its appearance than the fact that it exists, "I'm okay," she reaffirms, gazing up at him, brows pinched with worry, "But are you?"

[whowillmourn]

With complete awareness of exactly where her hand is at all times, Mayerling lets take his claw. The ends are sharp, easily able to pierce flesh. He used a claw like that to pull out his own bone to give to her when she hunted him. (The Charlotte in another universe killed herself on his claws.) His claws are not safe for humans. For anyone. The ends point away from her. Mayerling would sooner impale himself than harm her.

Sharon has a more complicated history than most people. Saying she's afraid she wasn't Sharon anymore means something quite different from her than someone else. She's been other people. Mayerling loves all of her, including those people, because they're a part of her, whether as her past or braided with her now.

"I would like to know what happened," Mayerling says. He wants to be there for her. He should have been there for her. If he had, perhaps she wouldn't have died. A near death experience. She's powerful. He knows that full well, but he's difficult to kill, even if she didn't recognize him.

He looks down at his clawed hands again, stuck against his will. Quite aside from all his feelings, Mayerling notes academically, "I believe I am corrupted." He's read all about it, after all. Physical changes are a part of it.

[fogsong]

It's impossible not to notice how much care he takes with the claw in her hand. But she recognizes the dangers they pose. She's seen it in action. Sharper than any blade she's held. Still, it doesn't deter her from touching them. He's careful for her and she's careful for him, aware enough that he'd blame himself for the slightest of nicks even if it were recklessness on her part.

"Corrupted," she repeats after him, her lips pinched to keep her frown from growing. Coruption never used to frighten her. It used to just be a thing that would come and go, often brief, rarely ever so awful she hated the world but just enough to remind her she could if she needed to. It works differently for everyone. Grows at a different rate. Results in different changes. She wonders how awfully his will be; how much he'll change. And if it's her fault, "It's your first time dealing with it, isn't it?"

It's brought on by emotional distress, among other things. For her, it was cursed land. She runs her thumb along the back of his claw as she tries to find the words. Finally, "That's what got me. It happened so quickly I didn't even realize it until it was too late."

She won't let that happen to him. She reaches up to touch his cheek, palm cool, "Riteior cursed his city as his last fuck you. It took less than three hours for it to turn me Beast. Makima took me out before I took out everyone else."

Factual. She won't impress upon him the guilt she feels right now. Or the self-hatred. She won't let her feelings add to his corruption. Not if it's something she can help.

[whowillmourn]

Mayerling nods, minutely. Corruption has come and gone on a low level. It fluctuates all the time. Mayerling has always been so careful about it, worried about what it could do to his self control—worried that he would bite someone. His urge to bite hasn't increased at all. In fact, it's easier than ever to resist the urge to bite Sharon. His feeder teeth don't even threaten to descend. It's— it's not what he expected. It doesn't feel like anything is different. Not that he can tell. That worries him more than anything else. Not for himself. For others. Can he really not tell whether he's a greater danger to others?

Makima. For a second, Mayerling wants to find her and rip out her throat for killing Sharon, for not being able to help Sharon and protect everyone else. So many of the Hunters who are Sleepers, those who associate with Sanctuary, save Beasts without killing them. The fact it was a curse, the fact that curse worked against any such efforts to cure a Beast, doesn't come to mind. That's not what stays Mayerling's hand. It's Sharon. Sharon. Of course, Sharon, beautiful and dangerous and deadly when uncorrupted, is a terrible threat to everyone else. Of course Makima could only manage that much.

Mayerling leans into her touch, her hand on his cheek. "D has vowed to kill me should I be a threat to others," Mayerling tells her in his deep voice, "And I in return will do the same for him. If it gets that bad, you need not kill me yourself. I would not place that burden upon your shoulders. Leave it to D."

He sighs, eyes closed. "I should have gone with you." He could have gotten her away from everyone else, even as a Beast. Then he could have tried to save her. Then she wouldn't know what death is.

[fogsong]

She sucks in sharply at the mention of D's vow, jaw clenching, teeth grinding together until the moment she breathes out. She can't manage to look him in the eyes when she nods her head. Leave it to D. That fucking sucks to hear but... She knows herself well enough to know she wouldn't be able to kill him. Not out of a lack of skill or knowledge, D's taught her how to handle a vampire, but because she wouldn't be able to bring herself to do it.

She'd rather let him wreak havoc on Trench than kill him. But she knows the damage it'd do to him.

She rubs his cheek with her thumb once, twice, before she moves her fingers through his hair. Takes a chunk between her thumb and index. And tugs. Hard, "It was daylight," she snaps, "And if I feel this awful for what I did to Makima, how do you think I'd feel if I'd hurt you?"

Behind her sharp, stubborn tone is something of a whine, her bright eyes pleading, "That would've killed me in a different way. A worse one."