I Carry Your Heart With Me
Posted: 29 Aug 2017, 08:24
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart) )
<ATHENA> Saying sorry never came naturally to the necromancer, having had to do it during her life she’d avoid it as much as possible until the night that she confronted Cosimo about the stale silence between them. She had promised to do better, and she would follow that with every ounce of try she had left inside her. If she ever loved anybody more than herself, it had to be Cosimo. The Italian whose smile could melt her heart, her soul and everything in between. But how do you romance the man who is romance? Athena supposed it would have to do with first trying to, if nothing else, and maybe then she could learn how. It didn’t have to be perfect she knew, it just had to be something other than avoidance. It had to mean something other than silence, it had to be something that came from her heart and that let him in when she wasn’t willing to do so before. The one thing that was timelessly romantic had to be poetry to her, and candles, soft light and maybe even soft music that she knew he liked. So that’s exactly what she did, she opened the doors in the apartment and instead of destroying it as she had in the past she covered most of the surfaces in white candles, playing music on their record player that was soft jazz, another thing that she always felt was timelessly romantic. She couldn’t wait for him to get home, for her to whisper the poetry that she had memorized and for him to sway her in his arms to the music. If anything, she couldn’t wait to spend time with him. To make another small step towards him, instead of away.
<COSIMO> Jazz was indeed Cosimo’s preferred genre; even now it played in the earbuds that were stuck neatly into his ears, bag slung over his shoulder, strap snug over his chest as he made the commute from the Tower to home. Over the past few weeks there’d been whole days that he didn’t return to the home that he shared with Athena, but ever since the conversation they’d had, he’d noticed her efforts to be around more. And thus, he made his way back to the apartment, earlier rather than later. The Italian was willing to meet the woman halfway, though he would never admit to her that he only continued to come home at all because he disliked confrontation, and wasn’t in the mood to shatter his own optimist heart completely by leaving her. Waiting, it seemed, had done the relationship good. When the man walked through the front door he would smell of stale sweet tarts and of something a little more acrid. Burnt metal, maybe, or perhaps some of those potentially harmful chemicals he’d spilled a few drops of when putting together one of the many traps he’d started to master. He expected to find either complete darkness, because he was the first one home, or to be greeted by the bright lights of the kitchen. Instead, there was the warm flickering glow of dozens of candles. The earbuds were pulled from his ears, one jazz melody replaced by another. “Athena…?” he called, the door closing slowly behind him, locked with decisive click.
<ATHENA> Athena hadn’t expected him home so soon, so when he came sauntering through the door she was more than surprised, only looking up in time to hear her name before that decisive click. Cursing quietly under her breath, she smoothed her palms down the fabric of her joggers and sighed. She hadn’t even gotten dressed yet, all she had was the atmosphere and she had that done first so she could get used to it. It wasn’t easy for her to bare her heart to him, or to tell him what she should’ve been saying all along. That she loved him. That she wanted him. But she was holding tight to her promise, refusing to let him down again. Even if it meant that she felt like a failure, it wasn’t his fault that she couldn’t communicate with him. It was hers. So when she knew he was coming anyway, she crossed her arms loosely over her chest in embarrassment and managed to plaster a smile on her face. “You caught me,” she confessed, gesturing now to the open space of their livingroom. It was clean too, she had spent the time previous dusting the entire apartment since she very rarely left her things thrown about anymore. This was another effort she was trying to make, maybe not that she’d be the best housewife because she still couldn’t stand to stay home all day but that she would respect him, and respect the things they shared down to the simple things like the home they lived in or the floor they both walked on. Maybe he wouldn’t notice this change in her, but she didn’t think anything progressive could hurt their path to hopefully healing their relationship. “I didn’t think you’d be home so soon, or I would’ve done better at being ready when you got here..” trailing off, she looked away nervously at the candles sitting prettily on the kitchen counter and laughed once at herself. “I’m still in my cleaning clothes,” she continues, gesturing now at the simple sweat-joggers and the loose-fitting tank and sports bra she wore. It definitely wasn’t what she had planned to wear tonight, but she had been caught red handed.
<COSIMO> Cosimo had never been much bothered by clutter. If Athena left her things lying around, it made the place feel like home -- lived in. With everything put away, it was strange -- though he had noticed she was doing it. He didn’t want to tell her, though. He didn’t want her to think he was criticising her, or that she was doing anything wrong. Either way, she wasn’t doing anything wrong. Clean or dirty he didn’t mind. Not filthy, obviously, but he liked to know that he was coming home to someone. The first time she’d cleaned up and put everything away he’d had a moment of shock, wondering if she’d left him.
Cosimo lifted the bag from over his shoulders and dropped it just inside the front door. He took another moment to appreciate what Athena had done, before his meandering eyes settled back on her body -- he only noticed what she was wearing after she’d mentioned it. And when she did, he had to laugh. His footsteps carried him closer to Athena, hands reaching for her waist.
“You know I do not care what you wear,” he said. “I smell like stale tarts and chemicals. It does not matter,” he said, before he tugged his lower lip between his teeth and his features fell. “Have I missed something? What is the occasion?” he asked, glancing around once more, wondering if there was a sign. Something. Was it an anniversary that he hadn’t thought of? A birthday? It… no, February was months ago, so it wasn’t Valentine’s Day. Rather than talk himself into a hole, he kept quiet, hair fallen over his features while he waited to see if he was in trouble for forgetting something.
<ATHENA> Cosimo laughed and all her earlier nerves melted away. He was happy with it, regardless that she was in joggers and a tank. He didn’t care about those things, and never had before - but she was a perfectionist. She was a woman who liked detail with these things, and everything had to be right if she was going to do something but she missed the fact that it was already perfect, because he appreciated her. He saw her effort and that was enough to break the nerves from her and fill her with warmth instead. To fill her with love.
Athena’s hands came to rest over his as he found her waist, looking up at him with a smile on her face that had a certain radiance it hadn’t always carried. It was a newfound appreciation, for them both that showed. “Yes, I do know.” she confesses, half embarrassed that she had thought otherwise regardless of her intention. He described how he smelled but she didn’t notice, she just felt him close and that was all she needed. It mattered not how he smelled. “There’s no occasion other than I miss you, and I wanted to show you. I thought it was a good night to dance, like we used to.” she explained, now shying away to turn her gaze a little off to the side, so they didn’t have too much direct eye contact but enough to pass. No matter what she did, that shyness to love Cosimo so openly made her nervous, it made her shy. It made her feel completely off her axis and still she didn’t know how to find her center.
<COSIMO> There were so many ways that Cosimo had changed. For better or for worse, it didn’t matter -- this was who he was now, and so far he’d not thought of any reason to hate who he’d become. In fact, he rather preferred this man -- the one that was free from his father’s macho expectations, away from the constant desire to be more, to have more. To be tough, to care less. This was the man he’d been raised by, and Cosimo could not be sad that he was dead. He hadn’t hated his father. He’d loved him, to an extent. But that didn’t mean it still didn’t feel good to be free of him.
It wasn’t only the freedom from his father that had changed Cosimo. The mutilation that had occurred previous to his siring had upended the hormones in his body; he became more sensitive. And the vampiric blood had halted the process, solidified it. No testosterone pill could make him better. But why fix what wasn’t broken? The man had had his doubts over the past few months -- he couldn’t deny that. But the gleam in Athena’s eyes, her shyness, this whole scene… already those doubts were vanishing, packing their bags and going on their merry way. A grin dimpled his cheeks as he lifted a hand, fingers grazing Athena’s jaw as he turned her face back to him. He leaned forward and pressed and appreciative, lingering kiss to her lips.
“I think that you did it on purpose,” he said against her lips, still smiling. He already started to sway the grip on Athena’s waist shifting into a dancer’s stance. “Stayed in your cleaning clothes, knowing that I need to shower, too…” he said, smile growing sly.
<ATHENA> With Athena’s eyes pointed elsewhere, away from his face out of cowardice she missed her favorite sight. She missed watching Cosimo’s sweet smile effortlessly melt into a sly smirk, those blue eyes of his turn to a ocean of blue that never ceases to make her knees weak and her tongue dry. As he turned her face and her blues landed on his face again, her lips turned upwards and she kissed him back, the lingering he added only making her toes curl in her socks.
“Mmm, I wish I was that clever.” she murmurs back, her lips brushing back against the man’s as they spoke. He shifted his grip on her, and she followed suit to shift her own to automatically hold onto him and let the man of romance lead. She didn’t much care who led these days, just that there was romance in the air for them. That they had some sort of path to each other again, that she had cluttered with her silence and her unwillingness to keep trying. “But if you’re trying to say that eventually you’ll need help in the shower.. I feel like I know someone who might fit the job.., Cosimo.” Athena whispered, knowing her cheeks would flush if they still could, that the girlish embarrassment was still there somewhere when it came to the italian that she loved. But it didn’t matter, because she wanted to be the person to help him no matter what.
<COSIMO> Jazz was indeed Cosimo’s preferred genre; even now it played in the earbuds that were stuck neatly into his ears, bag slung over his shoulder, strap snug over his chest as he made the commute from the Tower to home. Over the past few weeks there’d been whole days that he didn’t return to the home that he shared with Athena, but ever since the conversation they’d had, he’d noticed her efforts to be around more. And thus, he made his way back to the apartment, earlier rather than later. The Italian was willing to meet the woman halfway, though he would never admit to her that he only continued to come home at all because he disliked confrontation, and wasn’t in the mood to shatter his own optimist heart completely by leaving her. Waiting, it seemed, had done the relationship good. When the man walked through the front door he would smell of stale sweet tarts and of something a little more acrid. Burnt metal, maybe, or perhaps some of those potentially harmful chemicals he’d spilled a few drops of when putting together one of the many traps he’d started to master. He expected to find either complete darkness, because he was the first one home, or to be greeted by the bright lights of the kitchen. Instead, there was the warm flickering glow of dozens of candles. The earbuds were pulled from his ears, one jazz melody replaced by another. “Athena…?” he called, the door closing slowly behind him, locked with decisive click.
<ATHENA> Athena hadn’t expected him home so soon, so when he came sauntering through the door she was more than surprised, only looking up in time to hear her name before that decisive click. Cursing quietly under her breath, she smoothed her palms down the fabric of her joggers and sighed. She hadn’t even gotten dressed yet, all she had was the atmosphere and she had that done first so she could get used to it. It wasn’t easy for her to bare her heart to him, or to tell him what she should’ve been saying all along. That she loved him. That she wanted him. But she was holding tight to her promise, refusing to let him down again. Even if it meant that she felt like a failure, it wasn’t his fault that she couldn’t communicate with him. It was hers. So when she knew he was coming anyway, she crossed her arms loosely over her chest in embarrassment and managed to plaster a smile on her face. “You caught me,” she confessed, gesturing now to the open space of their livingroom. It was clean too, she had spent the time previous dusting the entire apartment since she very rarely left her things thrown about anymore. This was another effort she was trying to make, maybe not that she’d be the best housewife because she still couldn’t stand to stay home all day but that she would respect him, and respect the things they shared down to the simple things like the home they lived in or the floor they both walked on. Maybe he wouldn’t notice this change in her, but she didn’t think anything progressive could hurt their path to hopefully healing their relationship. “I didn’t think you’d be home so soon, or I would’ve done better at being ready when you got here..” trailing off, she looked away nervously at the candles sitting prettily on the kitchen counter and laughed once at herself. “I’m still in my cleaning clothes,” she continues, gesturing now at the simple sweat-joggers and the loose-fitting tank and sports bra she wore. It definitely wasn’t what she had planned to wear tonight, but she had been caught red handed.
<COSIMO> Cosimo had never been much bothered by clutter. If Athena left her things lying around, it made the place feel like home -- lived in. With everything put away, it was strange -- though he had noticed she was doing it. He didn’t want to tell her, though. He didn’t want her to think he was criticising her, or that she was doing anything wrong. Either way, she wasn’t doing anything wrong. Clean or dirty he didn’t mind. Not filthy, obviously, but he liked to know that he was coming home to someone. The first time she’d cleaned up and put everything away he’d had a moment of shock, wondering if she’d left him.
Cosimo lifted the bag from over his shoulders and dropped it just inside the front door. He took another moment to appreciate what Athena had done, before his meandering eyes settled back on her body -- he only noticed what she was wearing after she’d mentioned it. And when she did, he had to laugh. His footsteps carried him closer to Athena, hands reaching for her waist.
“You know I do not care what you wear,” he said. “I smell like stale tarts and chemicals. It does not matter,” he said, before he tugged his lower lip between his teeth and his features fell. “Have I missed something? What is the occasion?” he asked, glancing around once more, wondering if there was a sign. Something. Was it an anniversary that he hadn’t thought of? A birthday? It… no, February was months ago, so it wasn’t Valentine’s Day. Rather than talk himself into a hole, he kept quiet, hair fallen over his features while he waited to see if he was in trouble for forgetting something.
<ATHENA> Cosimo laughed and all her earlier nerves melted away. He was happy with it, regardless that she was in joggers and a tank. He didn’t care about those things, and never had before - but she was a perfectionist. She was a woman who liked detail with these things, and everything had to be right if she was going to do something but she missed the fact that it was already perfect, because he appreciated her. He saw her effort and that was enough to break the nerves from her and fill her with warmth instead. To fill her with love.
Athena’s hands came to rest over his as he found her waist, looking up at him with a smile on her face that had a certain radiance it hadn’t always carried. It was a newfound appreciation, for them both that showed. “Yes, I do know.” she confesses, half embarrassed that she had thought otherwise regardless of her intention. He described how he smelled but she didn’t notice, she just felt him close and that was all she needed. It mattered not how he smelled. “There’s no occasion other than I miss you, and I wanted to show you. I thought it was a good night to dance, like we used to.” she explained, now shying away to turn her gaze a little off to the side, so they didn’t have too much direct eye contact but enough to pass. No matter what she did, that shyness to love Cosimo so openly made her nervous, it made her shy. It made her feel completely off her axis and still she didn’t know how to find her center.
<COSIMO> There were so many ways that Cosimo had changed. For better or for worse, it didn’t matter -- this was who he was now, and so far he’d not thought of any reason to hate who he’d become. In fact, he rather preferred this man -- the one that was free from his father’s macho expectations, away from the constant desire to be more, to have more. To be tough, to care less. This was the man he’d been raised by, and Cosimo could not be sad that he was dead. He hadn’t hated his father. He’d loved him, to an extent. But that didn’t mean it still didn’t feel good to be free of him.
It wasn’t only the freedom from his father that had changed Cosimo. The mutilation that had occurred previous to his siring had upended the hormones in his body; he became more sensitive. And the vampiric blood had halted the process, solidified it. No testosterone pill could make him better. But why fix what wasn’t broken? The man had had his doubts over the past few months -- he couldn’t deny that. But the gleam in Athena’s eyes, her shyness, this whole scene… already those doubts were vanishing, packing their bags and going on their merry way. A grin dimpled his cheeks as he lifted a hand, fingers grazing Athena’s jaw as he turned her face back to him. He leaned forward and pressed and appreciative, lingering kiss to her lips.
“I think that you did it on purpose,” he said against her lips, still smiling. He already started to sway the grip on Athena’s waist shifting into a dancer’s stance. “Stayed in your cleaning clothes, knowing that I need to shower, too…” he said, smile growing sly.
<ATHENA> With Athena’s eyes pointed elsewhere, away from his face out of cowardice she missed her favorite sight. She missed watching Cosimo’s sweet smile effortlessly melt into a sly smirk, those blue eyes of his turn to a ocean of blue that never ceases to make her knees weak and her tongue dry. As he turned her face and her blues landed on his face again, her lips turned upwards and she kissed him back, the lingering he added only making her toes curl in her socks.
“Mmm, I wish I was that clever.” she murmurs back, her lips brushing back against the man’s as they spoke. He shifted his grip on her, and she followed suit to shift her own to automatically hold onto him and let the man of romance lead. She didn’t much care who led these days, just that there was romance in the air for them. That they had some sort of path to each other again, that she had cluttered with her silence and her unwillingness to keep trying. “But if you’re trying to say that eventually you’ll need help in the shower.. I feel like I know someone who might fit the job.., Cosimo.” Athena whispered, knowing her cheeks would flush if they still could, that the girlish embarrassment was still there somewhere when it came to the italian that she loved. But it didn’t matter, because she wanted to be the person to help him no matter what.