Angeline bobbed her head in acknowledgment, as Winifred clearly knew the terrain that was so unfamiliar and unpredictable to her. There was something that seemed to strike a sour note with her, though. Be his. Become his. The idea that he could be hers, and she could be his…. maybe it just wasn't for her. For others, like Winifred and Marcus, maybe they liked the feeling of mutual.. possession? No, that wasn't it. It wasn't possession, it was love. But she'd simply spend too long as nothing but a worthless possession to Luc Crenshaw to enjoy the sound of belonging to someone, even if they belonged to her as well, even if it was for love. Angeline much preferred to think of it as becoming a 'we', where there was only a her and a him. That was what worked best for her personally. But would Thomas agree? Or would she grow to like the idea of being his?
(( I love Angeline so Friggin much! sniffles))
"It's like a balancing act." Winifred continued, taking Angeline's hand and continuing towards the door. "There are parts of one another that you will find you love. Parts you want to cherish and hold that fuel your love. You'll come to love even the things that aren't pretty. When you find that someone, it's all of a sudden not about you anymore." Tears clouded Winifred's eyes as she looked off into the sky. "I promise you it's wonderful."
(aw thanks, I love Winifred!)
Marcus took hold of this amazing, indescribable woman's hand and held it to his chest. His eyes were so soft, so warm, so open, that Angeline couldn't help but smile, no matter how painfully her heart squeezed. "Thank you, Winifred," she told her quietly, and it was clear that her words carried truth and meaning.
Winifred pulled Angeline into a heart-felt hug. How could she make the female understand the wonderful thing that was in her grasp? How could she tell her of the indescribable freedom and grace that came with those three simple words? Winifred was still wrapping her mind around it, doubting more and more that she fully could. She was still trying to figure out how she, herself, even deserved such a gift. Her brown eyes went to Marcus, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"I love you…" she mouthed to him as she held Angeline for a second longer.
Marcus had been a vision of mischief and inner peace the whole lunch through, but now, he finally allowed himself to crack open, just a bit. He was still very much a broken man, worn down by a lifetime of trauma and a completely different approach to everything than he was now using, but the miraculous beauty of the thing he and Winifred shared was patching him up, piece by piece. "I love you too…" he mouthed back, tears momentarily brimming in his eyes. He smiled, joyous and emotional all at the same time, holding his arms out to her when she'd released Angeline.
Angeline watched them, and it felt oddly good to hurt. Because she could see what they had, plain as day, and she could see that it was healing even them, perhaps the two most wounded people on this earth. She smiled, a little sad, a little happy.
((Oh my gosh…. I'm crying…))
After she'd released Angeline, she walked into Marcus, melting into him as she leaned her head gently on his chest, her heart not allowing her to forget the wounds that had been there. She let the tears falls but she wore a smile. "Can we go home now…?" she croaked. "I think we made big enough fools of ourselves for the day." she laughed.
(my reaction exactly when reading Winifred's piece
thank you!)
Marcus's laugh, though hoarse, hung in the air like a bird taking flight, freeing and wonderful. "Agreed." He gave her a squeeze, burying his face in her hair before offering Angeline an apologetic smile.
Angeline, though she felt like her heart was being torn in two by the only two men she'd conversed with that day, shook her head. "Don't apologize. I'm just– I'm incredibly happy for the both of you."
(skip to later on? or stay?)
((Skip to later on? Perhaps they all spend the day into Marcus's room?))
(sure! Are we still doing fluff?)
((Sure…. even if it breaks Angeline's heart….sure))
(A little [a lot] of pain is good for her! only if you want to though, lol)
((She needs to learn… THOMAS IS THE ONE! WE SURGE ON!))
(into battle!!
Lol
Who's starting?)
(Kk)
Angeline watched Marcus lace his fingers through Winifred's and pull her close to his side, then whisper something soft and precious in her ear. She turned her head away, wondering how she still had a heart left after having it torn apart so many times. The damage had been limited when Thomas had been with them, he'd almost been there to fix it, in a way, but now that the three of them were alone she couldn't help but marvel at how happy she felt to be hurting. They were in love. They were happy. And she couldn't have been more grateful for that fact, despite her pain.
Winifred laughed softly at Marcus's words. "You big flirt…" She blushed. She had found that she was more probable to blush more than ever at Marcus's words. They had new meaning. New impacts on her heart. More than she had ever anticipated. She pressed a kiss to his cheek in thanks. But quickly, she pulled away. So fast they had forgotten that they had guest… "Angeline." She called to her friend. "What do you desire to do? We can play cards or find something else to do."
The young woman turned her head back to the couple when her name was spoken, uncrossing her les where she had been sitting in her armchair. After a momentary pause, an idea crossed her mind. “Why doesn’t Marcus play something for us?” She gestured to the piano in the corner of the room, the violin case beside it. “The music he makes is beautiful.”
Winifred's eyes widened. "You play?" She looked to Marcus. How come he never told her? A pain pierced her heart, but she ignored it. She hadn't asked if he knew how to play. Perhaps that's why he never told her.
Shame crossed Marcus’s expression, but he nodded. “Or at least, I used to. My uncle decided— maybe four months ago?— that I wasn’t allowed to play. Caught me doing it once behind his back, sliced open my fingers so I couldn’t continue.” He cleared his throat, the story clearly paining him. “But he’s gone out now. I can play you something.”
Winifred deflated a bit. "You… you don't have to, love. But I'm sure you play beautifully." Winifred was all for Marcus breaking the chains Luc had bound him to in life, but it had to be Marcus who decided to break away. Not her. Just thinking the name Luc Crenshaw gave her the most endless pit within her stomach, her mind going to the night he…
She shook her head, blinking a few time to hide the tears that threatened to come to life. Not now… She told herself. Not in front of them, don't think about that monster. He can have your body but he doesn't have you.
Marcus took hold of her hands, kissed then as if to say that it was alright. “I’ll play us something.” He stood, crossed the room and sat at the piano, running his scarred fingers over the polished wood. Setting them on the keys, light and delicate, he played a few scales to refresh his memory. His movements were graceful, practiced.
Winifred held her hands to her chest as if she could physically insert his love there. Her eyes remained on him, on his hands as they glided along the keys with old fondness. She felt her body relax with the sound, and it was just scales. Winifred didn't think it possible, but she now had another reason to adore him.
Finally, Marcus drew in a deep breath. His fingers hovered over the piano keys, bound by hesitation. Focus. Relax. It's Winifred and Angeline, he told himself, loosening the hold of his nerves and touching down on the first key. Notes drifted through the confines of the room, played with care and gentle ease. The familiarity of the music washed over Marcus, relaxing him further until a small smile was playing across the curve of his lips.
Winifred's dark eyes floated shut as her heart eased into the song. It danced and swayed with the melody, so rich and soft. It's beautiful….He's beautiful… She thought as a smile appeared on her face.
His practiced fingers appeared to be floating across the keys, not touching down, only dancing over and somehow emitting gentle notes. When the piece was over, he folded his hands in his lap, casting a nervous glance to Winifred.
