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Where The Sky Is Clear; 5/22 - evening/night - (Forge, Kara)
Topic Started: May 8 2014, 05:05 PM (210 Views)
Forge
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It had - at least in Forge’s own rather idiosyncratic opinion - been one of Drayton’s better efforts. Though it had undercut itself by the end, turning with the last quatrain to a sentiment that seemed to mock the savage resolution of the opening that had first drawn him to that particular sonnet. No matter though - or if had once mattered, that time seemed long past to the Cheyenne man as he reclined in the surprisingly spacious quarters SHIELD’s Helicarrier had offered to its middle-ranking agents, his arm around the woman who’d curled in at his side.

It was probably only to be expected of poets, after all.

Though he couldn’t have denied the curiosity that was present in the look Kara gave him - restrained, but no less real for that - it seemed that she’d not chosen to act upon that. Not now, perhaps would be more accurate, but that was no less welcome.

“And a lot of other people, too," she agreed easily enough and with a small smile that rather than rebuke, seemed instead to invite him in to be part of some peculiar, but comfortably ordinary fact of human experience. If it was failure, at least it was a shared one, the look seemed to say. It was a particularly eloquent look - but then, he was beginning to be accustomed to that from those fine eyes.

“Drayton,” Kara mused a second later, "I'll have to look him up.”

Well, if she was interested, he’d not try to stop her, though at this moment, Forge found it easy to spare little concern for what she might find, and whether it would end by dragging over the remains of that bitter cup of irony and humiliation he’d served himself with the Goddess. It was past. Long past, and what the Camp had not seen to where it came to that, the last few days certainly seemed to finished, leaving him with only one question that felt not bitter at all.

What was hers - this poem she’d mentioned the Drayton sonnet had put her in mind of?

A smile met that. One that perhaps it would have been inappropriate to kiss, though the idea lingered in Forge’s thoughts all the same as he watched her. “I guess it's only fair, isn't it,” she replied, falling into silent contemplation, as though searching her memory for the opening.

“Take this kiss upon the brow," Kara began softly, crease forming between her brows as she pulled the poem from memory, "And, in parting from you now,” They flowed smoothly from her lips, as though the memory were strengthening as she uttered them, “Thus much let me avow—" crease smoothing away, she looked up to meet his eyes again, continuing, "You are not wrong, who deem, that my days have been a dream.”

There was more, Forge suspected, though the purple woman in his arms left it unspoken, lapsing into a thoughtful silence that had no need to be broken. But a dream within a dream - was that the way the verse had ended? Far from words he would have ever thought to put in conjunction with the woman resting beside him on the bed, but there was a story there, and one deeply felt, if he didn’t mistake it.

“Poe,” Kara told him, in the off chance he didn't know, smile tipping a little to one side. "It's such a cliche' I should probably be embarrassed, but I was only about fourteen or fifteen. At least I've always thought it was one of his better ones,” she averred. Forge tipped the corners of his mouth up into a smile that could be acknowledgement, for there was no mockery intended. “Even if it goes a little downhill in the second half, too.”

The inventor’s smile twisted into a little more amusement. “Poets,” he declared drily, then shifted his arms, gently moving them till they were wrapped more closely around her, and she was resting in a way that would hopefully be more comfortable against him. “Some day you’ll have to tell me the rest, I hope.”
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Purple Girl
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Undercutting itself. Probably something expected of poems, and of poets. And, to Kara's way of thinking, a lot of other people in the bargain.

Determination was easy to start out with. Not quite so easy to hang onto. Maybe Drayton had more of a feel for how it worked in life than it seemed. Either way, she decided aloud, she'd have to look up this Drayton. See the rest of that poem and maybe some of his others.

And maybe, one day that wasn't now after they'd had a day like this, she'd ask him about what that poem was connected to for him. There was something, some memory attached to it, just like there were memories attached to the one that it reminded her of.

The one that Forge asked about only a few seconds later. Fair was fair, wasn't it? She'd heard his, if he wanted to hear hers she didn't mind. Even if she might've rather kissed him then, but she smiled instead for a few moments. Then turned to trying to pull that old poem from her memory in some kind of order of words that would make sense.

They came surprisingly easy for something she hadn't thought about in a long time. Words that reminded her of the girl heartbroken girl she'd been a decade or so ago, of the young woman she'd been not nearly as long ago who'd wondered how things could go so wrong so quickly. The one who really had felt like she was waking from some kind of dream to find she was caught in a nightmare.

After the first stanza, she stopped, thinking of the rest as she reclined comfortably against a man who'd proved himself remarkable, intriguing in ways she'd never have suspected. Who'd settled himself in her thoughts so completely in such a short time. And her reciting Poe, of all things. Kara knew she should be embarrassed, but she wasn't. It was a cliche, but she'd only been fourteen or fifteen when she'd learned it.

Maybe it was one of Poe's better ones, maybe that was just wishful thinking, but it didn't bother her much either way.

If she wanted to be embarrassed about something it should probably be the book that started it all, lying there on his leg, but she couldn't even really manage that. Not in any real sense. She might not have waved it, or the poem, around like a flag, and they might both deserve shoving under a pillow, but she didn't mind that Forge had discovered either of them.

Though she'd admit that Dream Within A Dream tended to undercut itself, too, in some ways. Then again, it was probably something to be expected with Poe, even brilliant as he generally could be.

There was more amusement in the smile, and even in his eyes, now. For that, she'd have stuffed several fluffy romance novels under his pillow. “Poets,” he declared drily, and that really said it all, didn't it? It was definitely enough as he shifted his arms and Kara did the same, one sliding behind him, the other crossing over his stomach as she settled herself closer. “Some day you’ll have to tell me the rest, I hope.”

The smile she gave him was easy, as comfortable as her position at the moment. Something else she wouldn't have suspected was possible an hour or two ago. "If you want. The poem or the story behind it, or both." Her brows rose a little as she added, "I should probably warn you, though, the last half of the poem has a lot of going on about sand and the ocean and weeping."

Apt enough, but even at fifteen it'd seemed a little overboard, no matter how much of a morose teenager she was being herself.

Glancing down at the book again, Kara reached over to briefly ruffle the pages. "What do you think will become of poor Venetia," she asked with not really anything more than idle curiosity, before glancing back up at him, "now that she and...whoever that was," Demarel, she assumed but she didn't remember Forge saying for sure, "have taken leave of one another?" Probably all kinds of doubts and regrets, before somehow or another it all managed to work itself out. If it was anything like the other one or two she'd read, anyway.

Somewhere in there, there was probably a happy ending of some kind. No matter what kind of trouble they went through, there usually was. And that had always been the most attractive thing about romance novels.
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Forge
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Comfortable. Yes, this was comfortable, in a way that perhaps should have felt more inappropriate - or at least more unexpected - on this night, after all that had happened, than in fact it did.

His arms wrapped around Kara, her own sliding around to encircle him in turn, side by side in a way that was easy - natural, even - to live with. No matter how many shadows of poets past they might come to throw at each other. Some day, though, she’d have to tell him the rest of hers. Or he found himself hoping that she would.

That smile would do just as well though, even if it presaged a negative, or some kind of deflection of the point. It was a good smile, one better suited to her than the expression she’d been wearing when he’d seen her last.

But it wasn’t a negative that came when she did answer, and perhaps that shouldn’t have surprised him either from this particularly unique woman. “If you want. The poem or the story behind it, or both." Her brows rose a little as she added, "I should probably warn you, though, the last half of the poem has a lot of going on about sand and the ocean and weeping.”

Smiling softly himself, Forge lifted his own eyebrows briefly. “Then it will just have to be the story, I think,” he told her, very slightly drily. “I’m not sure I have the stomach for weeping oceans.”

Though he was beginning to think that perhaps Kara Kilgrave might be able to make a lie of that, if she decided to put her mind to it.

Her gaze seemed to have returned to her book, and after a moment, she reached down to it where it lay on his leg, rifling through the pages with an idle gesture. “What do you think will become of poor Venetia," she asked with not really anything more than idle curiosity, before glancing back up at him, "now that she and...whoever that was,”

“Damerel,” Forge supplied, for the sake of completeness.

“…have taken leave of one another?”

Head tilting to one side, Forge regarded the book, and then the woman in his arms, lingering far longer on the latter than he’d bothered with the former. “Well, he’s a fool if he’d let whatever caused him to commit Drayton to memory to keep him from her,” he said finally, before - powered by what he could only think to call a whim - he plucked the book back, holding it up above her head as he thumbed it open on the last handful of pages, and began to skim quickly through them.

”You shall have a splendid orgy, my dear delight…”

The phrase caught his eye from the top of one page, and Forge’s eyebrows flickered briefly upward once more, matching the turn taken by the corners of his lips before he flipped the book back closed, and set it down beside him on the mattress. Thus disposed of, he returned his arm to Kara’s waist, thumb brushing lightly over the small of her back.

“I expect you’ll be tolerably satisfied with the resolution,” he told her. Still smiling, but he’d let her read for herself to find out the cause of it.
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Purple Girl
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Well, he could certainly hear the rest of the poem if he wanted to. Even after all this time, the words were still there, right on the tip of her tongue. Or he could hear the story behind it if he'd rather. Even if it probably wasn't much better than the poem itself. Being generally made of teen angst and drama.

At the time, it'd felt more like the end of the world but that was how things worked when you were fourteen or fifteen and hadn't actually seen the end of the world yet. She should probably warn him, Kara decided, that the last half of the poem really did dissolve in on itself a little. A lot of talk of sand and oceans and weeping.

Probably not anything he'd want to be hearing tonight, if at all.

Those dark brows inched upward again but he was smiling. Softly and in a way that seemed to smooth out a few more of those tight lines of worry that had settled in today. “Then it will just have to be the story, I think,” he told her, very slightly drily. “I’m not sure I have the stomach for weeping oceans.”

No, neither did she at the moment but maybe later, when they hadn't already had a day filled with an ocean of tears. Or at least an ocean of heartache.

Another time, then, and her attention went back to the book lying there on his leg and she flipped the pages idly with slender, purple fingers. Thinking about Venetia again. What would happen to her, did he suppose, now that...well, whoever that had been had taken his leave of her? Damerel, she guessed, but he hadn't said.

“Damerel,” Forge confirmed, validating her suspicions. Probably, there would be some sort of reconciliation and a happy ending. Most romance novels had them and, as far as she was concerned, it was the chief thing to recommend them.

His head canted to one side, dark eyes moving to consider the book then coming back to her. Settling there on hers as her fingers brushed lightly along the tops of his. “Well, he’s a fool if he’d let whatever caused him to commit Drayton to memory to keep him from her,” he said finally and Kara couldn't help but agree with that. Even only a few chapters in, you could see they were a good match.

Before she could do it herself, Forge picked the book up and flipped through the last pages. Leaning over a little more, she was trying to see what it was that had his brows headed upward again, right along with the corners of his mouth. Too late to tell, though, since he closed it again and set it down next to him.

Oh, now that wasn't fair at all. Not that she was particularly put out as his arm curved around her again, gentle stroke of his thumb feathering lightly over her lower back.

“I expect you’ll be tolerably satisfied with the resolution,” he told her, still smiling but not actually telling her anything at all beyond that.

"Only tolerably?" she asked, eying the book before turning her attention back to him, smile slightly more pronounced. "I have to say, I was hoping for a little better than a tolerable ending for the poor girl."

Amused, she leaned over and reached across him, retrieving the book from where he'd laid it. "Now I'll have to look for myself, you know." And Kara thought he probably did know. "I knew I should've read the last chapter first," she added, opening the book and flipping the pages, looking for the beginning of the final chapter. "Actually, maybe I should just start reading books backwards all together," Kara added, finding the chapter and glancing back to Forge, again with amusement she hadn't been sure an hour ago she'd feel again any time soon, "especially if you're going to tease me with tolerable endings."
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Forge
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It was an easy thing - so easy that it gave Forge more pleasure that perhaps it should - to sneak the book back past Kara, holding it up just over her head as she craned her neck to follow him. An easy thing too, to flip to the last handful of pages, skimming through the mess of names and conversation, smiling as a particularly unexpected sentence caught his eye.

Deciding that he liked Kara’s intrigued expression far too much to destroy it by satisfying the curiosity behind it, the inventor stayed an urge to read the sentence aloud, instead closing the book once more and setting it aside. That let him return his arm to Kara herself, hand stroking thoughtfully over the slender curve of her back while he informed her that she could expect to be tolerably satisfied with the resolution she’d been wondering about.

He was still smiling at it, though that might have had at least as much, and probably more, to do with the view he had now, not the words he’d been skipping through.

“Only tolerably?" she asked, turning her expressive eyes to the abandoned book before returning those eyes, and a matching smile, up to meet his own. “I have to say, I was hoping for a little better than a tolerable ending for the poor girl.”

Yes, he really did enjoy the way curiosity had made the fine dark eyes sparkle like that.

“Understandably,” Forge agreed, nodding amicably, and refusing to take the bait she was dangling for him. If she wanted more information about the details of the ending, she’d have to….

…well, yes, leaning over him and retrieving the book from where he’d laid it was certainly one of her options, and one that he probably should have expected. “Now I'll have to look for myself, you know.” Forge smiled quietly, lifting one eyebrow. Yes, that wasn’t really surprising from Kara Kilgrave, now that he came to consider it. “I knew I should've read the last chapter first," she added, apparently proceeding to do just that, searching through the end of the book.

It was a sight he’d not soon grow tired of, Forge decided, as he settled his arm around her once more, watching the intent expression on her face as she hunted for the page she was looking for. “Actually, maybe I should just start reading books backwards all together," Kara added, finding the chapter and glancing back to Forge, who tightened his arm a little in response to the particular kind of smile that had come back to her face, “especially if you're going to tease me with tolerable endings.”

“Yes, it’s the only sensible response to that sort of provocation,” the Cheyenne man agreed blandly, though his lips were twitching once again as he fell silent, leaving her free to read her chapters as she wished, while he occupied himself with the pleasure of watching her.

Words seemed unnecessary, and this warm, comfortable silence more welcome after what had been this evening than he’d risk by admitting. Far better to sit here, fingers stroking idly at the point where her t-shirt had ridden up and exposed a patch of smooth purple skin, letting his mind be occupied - at least for the moment - by nothing but thoughts of Kara Kilgrave, who’d read books backwards just to avoid being teased by suspense.

Interesting was certainly the word for this woman. She was not just in the common way, not at all.
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Purple Girl
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Tolerably satisfied with the ending? Oh good grief, that wasn't very encouraging. Or Kara was choosing to take it that way for the moment, since she really had hoped for a little better than tolerable for Venetia after all the trouble she seemed to be going through.

What self-respecting book ever ended 'and they lived tolerably ever after'?

When it came to romance novels, though, maybe she'd have to revise her definition of 'self-respecting', even if the few of Heyer's she'd read from Angie's stash here and there proved to be generally better than your average bodice ripper. That sort of ending really wouldn't do at all.

Kara might've said the same for Forge's obvious enjoyment at pointedly not telling her any more than that, but that actually would do. It would do nicely for right now. The ability to smile, be a little amused, take comfort in all of that after days like today, and the few before it. It was needed. Necessary, to help trim away some of the frayed edges of weariness - of body and mind and spirit - before they unraveled too far.

“Understandably,” Forge agreed, nodding amicably while still standing firm in his determination to apparently keep any details to himself. The purple skinned woman's lips twitched upward at the corners. Well then, if it was understandable, then she'd just have to look for herself, wouldn't she?

There was more than one way of finding out how things ended and Purple Girl employed one of those with all haste. The one that had her leaning over him and retrieving the book from where he'd laid it. She knew she should've read that last chapter first. Curiosity always got the better of her that way, and she somehow felt better for all the things the characters inevitably had to put up with if she knew it was going to work out in the end.

The man next to her just smiled at that. A placid, restful smile, one brow lifting a little as the only sign he might find that...well, probably not surprising. He wouldn't be that easy to surprise, would he. Maybe she should go with 'interesting' there, too.

What else could she do, though, when he was teasing her with tolerable endings? And, as his arm settled around her again, she started flipping toward the end of the book, looking for the beginning of the last chapter. It occurred to her, there settled against him and more content with that and a silly conversation over the end of an old historical romance than she could've imagined being with anyone or anything tonight, that it might just be easier for her all together if she started reading books back to front.

Tolerable endings. Really.

“Yes, it’s the only sensible response to that sort of provocation,” the Cheyenne man agreed blandly and Kara caught the twitching at the edges of his mouth as she peered at him sidelong. It made her want to kiss him, but she set that aside for the moment. Time enough for that when she'd seen this ending and judged for herself how tolerable it might or might not be.

It was an easy silence as she skimmed over the pages. That shouldn't have surprised her, Kara supposed, and when she thought about it a second or two, it really didn't. His company was easy for her. His presence next to her holding a warmth and pleasure she welcomed right now.

Scanning the words from one page to another, her own brows inched their way upward, twitching at the corners of her mouth becoming a full blown smile. "Soap bubbles and splendid orgies," Kara commented, turning her head toward Forge and meeting those striking dark eyes. "Not really what I was expecting to find, but I think I approve of this ending so far. You're right, it's very tolerable."

Really, you'd think there'd be more of that sort of thing in the newer romances, but almost to a one the one's she'd seen completely failed to incorporate any mention of orgies.
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Forge
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How could he not tease her with tolerable endings, when the result was as singularly charming as the look she’d just given him? Alongside that resolution to begin reading books entirely backwards as a counter-measure, uttered as it was in a tone that made it no easy matter for Forge to keep his own countenance straight as he agreed that this was clearly the only sensible strategy to take in such matters.

Not choosing to dignify that with an retort - ah, but she was a wise woman, wasn’t she? - Kara busied herself back amongst the final pages of the novel, and the Cheyenne inventor lost himself in turn with the slow, unhurried pleasure of watching her as she read. Thinking of her, or perhaps of nothing in particular at all, which might have been almost as welcome on this night, and conscious - or then again, perhaps mostly unconscious - of the twist of fortune that had spun to allow them the possibility of this comfortable moment.

Call it chance, or call it luck, it was still something to be grateful for, the presence of this remarkable woman curled up beside him.

And as for the shifts in her expression as she read, mobile eyebrows creeping upward, while the corners of her mouth tipped up every more precariously till they gave way into a real smile. She’d found that page, hadn’t she? Unless of course there was something even more striking than the sentence he’d found himself on his own idle skimming of the end, but Forge was inclined to go with his first guess when she turned and lifted her eyes up to his. “Soap bubbles and splendid orgies," Kara commented. Yes, so she’d found that, after all. “Not really what I was expecting to find, but I think I approve of this ending so far. You're right, it's very tolerable.”

Forge returned that smile after a moment, with an unhurried deepening of his own, enjoying the humor in the purple-skinned woman’s fine eyes. “Are you suggesting you’d like to have one of your own some day?” he murmured.

Though in that, the former Medicine Man feared that Damerel would prove to be far more qualified than he, at least if he were half the rake the back cover had suggested. On the other hand, one couldn’t help but think that Kara Kilgrave might be more than sufficiently resourceful to organize it for herself, and quite likely far more successfully than either he or the fictional character.

Some day, though, if so. Some other day. Drawing a longer, slower breath as the humor in the moment fell away, leaving only the sense of comfort and restfulness that seemed to be a fixture of the time he’d spent with Kara, Forge eased his torso back against the head of the bed, shifting his left hand until it had found one of hers, and covered it. “There are worse things in the world than a little time spent within a soap bubble,” he mused aloud.

Far worse things, as they’d both seen again today. And for now, though a soap bubble in its very nature must be temporary, fleeting, even he could be grateful for the respite offered by the one that seemed to have formed around them here in this moment.

A little time. A little insulation, before the rest of the world would need to be faced once more.
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Novel retrieved from around Forge's other side and in hand again, Kara went about satisfying herself as to exactly what sort of ending Venetia and the supposedly rakish Damarel would get. Something only tolerable didn't seem quite fitting for all the trouble they seemed to be going through, even no farther into things than she was so far.

Finding the last chapter, the purple skinned woman scanned the pages, flipping through them as her brows inched their way toward her forehead and the corners of her mouth tipped upward. Well, that was a little unexpected for an historical romance.

Forge was watching her as she delved into the fate of the supposedly staid upper class of the past. The weight of those remarkable, intelligent brown eyes was almost like a light touch against her skin. Maybe it should've made her self conscious, but instead it was welcome, comfortable. As comfortable as the silence as she pored over the page, finding what she imagined had to be the same passage he'd run across himself, before teasing her with tolerable endings.

Splendid orgies and soap bubbles among the Ton. It wasn't what she'd expected of an ending, but Kara couldn't help but approve for the surprise factor alone. He'd been right, it seemed very tolerable and she told him so as she turned her eyes his way again.

A return smile was waiting for her, humor in his eyes, in his expression. Another easing of that tension that had pulled at the corners of his eyes and mouth. Temporary, Kara knew that. This was all very temporary, but it also needed. Something she'd needed, something perhaps he'd needed, too.

“Are you suggesting you’d like to have one of your own some day?” he murmured and she found a soft laugh bubbling up and passing her lips. Light and amused as her smile widened and a hint of mischief glinted in her own eyes.

"What makes you think I might not have already?" the dark haired woman asked in return, then let her smile slowly soften. No, she didn't think she'd have any particular interest in that sort of thing, no matter how splendid. She'd have to leave that to Venetia and Damarel and the pages of Angie's book.

He drew i a breath slowly, then, and leaned back against the headboard, free hand moving to hers and Kara curved her fingers around it. Shifted a little and curled in closer to him, leaving the book and it's last few pages face down on the bedspread, out of the way. Time to finish the rest later, when time wasn't moving as fast as she knew it was right now.

“There are worse things in the world than a little time spent within a soap bubble,” he mused aloud and the corners of her mouth tugged a little higher, eyes closing as her head tilted to rest against his shoulder.

"Everyone needs a moment or two inside one now and then," she agreed, thumb stroking over the back of his hand lightly. Time inside that fragile, shimmering stillness, away from the world and all of the things in it that took away the smiles and the peace and the energy. Just for a moment.

[Fini!]
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