called_lioness | (no subject)

(no subject)

It has been a good weekend.

There was some technical law-breaking, but Lucy feels that certain things are worth telling a tiny fib for--like weddings. That is worth it.

It has been a good weekend, and a good evening, and Lucy has bags and a flower in her hair and a smile that's almost as wide as her face as she enters the room through the painting.

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She pulls out a nightgown and begins to undress, thinking as she removes earrings and sets them aside and then blouse. "Well, I never did see much of my world. In any version of it. I suppose we could go anywhere there. Or somewhere else. Though I think you mightn't like most of the cities."

"Likely not," he agrees.

"Though I suppose they're necessary. Like Tashbaan."

Thoughtful, "By the way, have you seen much more of your friend, the Tarkheena?"

She waits til she's finished undressing and pulled the nightgown over her head, hair sticking up a bit, before answering. "Not much, but I imagine she's not entirely comfortable here."

That may be said a bit more dryly than strictly necessary, as she picks up her brush and walks back to sit on the edge of the bed and attack her hair.

"And I don't know if they're necessary or not, but I do know earth's full of them. We could go to the countryside, if you'd like. Is there anything you want to see?"

"I would hardly know, would I?" he laughs, and moves forward to sit behind he, his hands on her shoulders as she brushes out her hair.

"I'd like to see whatever I could, you know. Or whatever you would want to show me. I've only ever caught one glimpse of your world, and I wasn't able to see much of it."

You could see my grave, she thinks before she stops herself and makes a face at the thought, brushing a bit more severely for a moment, leaning back against him slightly.

"I'd show you everything. It's not fair, that I've seen so much of yours and you haven't of mine, after all. London, I suppose, you really should see. We could go to Hyde Park. We went there this weekend, and it's still as lovely as I remember. There's London Tower, too, and the Parliament building, and--well, anything in London, I suppose. It's a bit hard," she confesses, "to think of what to show someone who's barely set foot in the world."

He doesn't necessarily notice the pause, or the violence of her brushing, but his hands move on her shoulders, rubbing at the muscles there, and when she's finished brushing her hair, he moves it aside to kiss the nape of her neck.

"I'd like that," he says, simply. "City or no."

She sighs, a little, at the kiss and after setting the brush aside leans back a bit more, closing her eyes for a few moments.

"I like you," she says finally, turn her head sideways to brush a kiss against his neck, "and so I shall like to show you anything I can."

He wraps his arms more securely around her, and smiles at the kiss.

"Then I will look forward to it," softly. And adds, "Come and sleep. You must be tired, and these are things that we can speak more of later."

"A bit exhausted," she admits and slips under the covers with him.

They're his rooms, but the bed is familiar now, and the blankets, and the soft sounds of sleeping dragons, and the feel of his warmth and weight next to her. It's because of all those things that Lucy murmurs, reaching out for his hand and twining her fingers with his, "It is good to be home."

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