A Lesson in Aesthetics (for asthedrivensnow )

[prettyawkward]

Maybe there was something to be said for less sleep in a twenty-four hour day.  Rabastan hadn't done much to the rest of the house, but his studio was, for the most part, much cleaner than it had been previously.  He had even purchased a new chaise, shoving the other in the far corner as a new storage place for scrap canvases and boards.  The lighting had been rearranged, and he had even managed to paint the walls in solid colours, relieving it of the splattered paint swatches, cracks, and tears that had developed over the last few months of his restless nights.  His room, of course, was still an absolute disaster area, but Narcissa hadn't mentioned needing to occupy that space.  

Currently, Rabastan was sitting in the hall that led to his bedroom, staring at the wall before him.  Several times, he had imagined Narcissa returning, to the point where he had almost convinced himself she had, only to realise it hadn't happened, after all.  His eyelids closed and opened in near slow-motion.  Everything felt delayed, and he wasn't really sure how long he had been sitting there.  There was a mutter, and he responded, but so quietly he could hardly make it out himself.

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[asthedrivensnow]

"Good boy."

She does like to touch. But Narcissa is normally very choosy with whom she allows within her personal space to be touched, and given what had happened last time he'd drawn her, things had gotten a little too close for comfort. She'd never been so open in front of anyone, and because he'd respected her boundaries, Narcissa's subconscious mind has decided he's relatively safe - for a Slytherin and a Lestrange - so now that she's in a state of relaxation, she's trusting him.

And then he starts to play with her hair, which is just heavenly. Her eyes close and a pleasurable shudder rolls through her as the strands move under his fingers, making tiny little movements on her scalp. She adores having someone play with her hair, and given the influence of alcohol and that potion, she's completely unaware of the happy little sigh she gives. It has just a hint of vocalisation, not quite a moan.

[prettyawkward]

"I wish you could stay here forever," he uttered, not even aware he had said it out loud. He was certain it had been in his head. He was certain of so much, lately, even when he was shown it to be incorrect. He was starting to live his life in his own fantasy world, where everything worked the way he wanted it to, even when it didn't. If someone left him? They'd return. Sometimes he'd wake up next to them, even if it wasn't really them. Sometimes he'd hear what he wanted. Sometimes he heard what he didn't want, and he'd react in whatever way he saw fit, despite the person doing everything they can to make it very clear they didn't say it.

It was confusing, at first. It was mildly upsetting. Now, though, it was just something that happened. Something relatively normal. The lines between reality and fantasy were blurred, and he couldn't be arsed to find the difference.

[asthedrivensnow]

If Narcissa had any idea of the conflicted mess his mind was in, and the blurred lines he was forced to cope with just to function, she'd be out that door in a flash. But she doesn't know, though she may later suspect, and right now she's drunk, high as a kite, and he's indulging a physical pleasure very few know about as his fingers card through her long hair. So she takes words for what they are, since the ability to think clearly escapes her, too.

"It might be nice," she sighs. "Lying here. Just... Feeling."

Her hand falls from her stomach with a quiet thud to lie palm-up on the floor by his chest, fingers curled up a little. She'll have bruised the bone in her wrist from that, though it won't show for another day or two.

"Not thinking about anything I have to do or people I have to please..."

[prettyawkward]

Throughout his life, he'd been decent at keeping his problems hidden, although it did have a tendency to rear its ugly head when someone's spent a lot of time around him. His girlfriends, for example, all went running for the hills.

That was the point of fantasy, though, wasn't it? He could keep himself from extreme depression if he just faked it all.

Rabastan let his tongue wet his lips as he thought about his situation here, and stared up at the ceiling.

"You can stay here and forget everything as long as you feel like it. Anytime you want to just...come and forget. I'll be here. I'm always here."

[asthedrivensnow]

She turns her head towards him at that, the movement pulling her hair through his fingers and making her eyes close momentarily in hedonistic pleasure. She's quiet, at first, the potion cushioning her brain in clouds and fairy floss and the alcohol making her tongue heavy and loose.

"You'd do that for me?"

Breathy, grateful. Not how she normally sounds at all. But this isn't how she'd normally behave, either, and right in the present moment, it seems right.

waaaah sorry, halloween craziness

[prettyawkward]

He wanted to sit up, to show her how serious he was, but he also didn't really want to move. Instead, Rabastan just looks down to meet her eyes as best as he can.

"Absolutely! I mean that, any time!" he said, maybe a bit dramatically. He wasn't the best at wooing a woman, and he hadn't quite figured out that complete and utter--to the point of obsessive--devotion wasn't really what most girls were seeking in a long-term mate. So it was his default plan, most of the time.

I hope you dressed up awesome!

[asthedrivensnow]

She rolls onto her side to face him, heedless of the hardwood floor beneath hip, ribs and shoulder, her eyes heavy-lidded and almost entirely pupil, and her head a little heavy on his stomach. Gold curls slide over his hips.

"...p'rhaps you two aren't so bad," she sighs. "Rodolphus taught me where to hurt a man who wanted more from me than I'm willing to give, you're full of compliments and delicious potions and... and escape."

It's not as though her life is terrible, but there's only so long that Narcissa can be what she's expected to be without cracking, and even her mother recognises when the music room fills with melancholy. This, while not sensible in the least, is at least something different. And he treats her with such reverence... it's a heady thing.

Vanellope Von Schweetz from Wreck-It Ralph!

[prettyawkward]

Rabastan only lightly considered that advice from Rodolphus as pertaining to him. Rabastan wasn't the best at understanding boundaries. Sure, his mother had established a lot of rules as to what he should and should not do, but he tended to block her out most of the time. In his mind, as long as he could rationalise it, it was perfectly fine.

Luckily for Narcissa, he was deathly afraid of the Black sisters. He'd follow her lead, automatically.

"That's right. I'll be your escape, then. That's what I'll be."

Aaaahhhh cool!

[asthedrivensnow]

It pertains to everybody, though thankfully, the young men of her acquaintance have so far respected her requests to stop when things got as far as she was willing to let them go. Granted, none of them had gotten her drunk and high. But Narcissa thinks that perhaps Rabastan will still be cognisant of her boundaries, especially if she isn't.

"I..." She pauses there, momentarily lost in her train of thought, then reaches out to press a fingertip to his inner elbow. "Shall. Hold you to that."

Her smile is hazy and perhaps a touch vacant, the potion having more than done its job.

[prettyawkward]

Rabastan's eyelids felt heavy, and his entire body and mind felt comfortable, which was a rare sensation. He could probably fall asleep right here, and be out for days. Usually that only happened when he was completely, and utterly exhausted, and even then it could be easily disrupted by the horrors that his mind seemed to conjure.

"I feel...like I'm being a bad host..."

[asthedrivensnow]

Perhaps they've both found a comfort point. Narcissa is perfectly content to use him as a pillow if he's going to keep playing with her hair, and his words draw forth the sleepiest smirk to ever grace her features.

"Only if you say no to the rain."

She waves her hand absently at the ceiling, where wisps of cloud begin to form, then dissipate, only to attempt to reform. She'll need her actual wand (or his, if he'll let her) to make it rain inside, but wanting to play in the downpour still lingers in her mind.

augh sorry! distractions, distractions

[prettyawkward]

It took him a moment to realise that maybe he should offer his own wand. He watched her attempt a few times, and then things clicked and he searched for his, handing it over.

"Would this help? Are you going to drench us, then?"

<3 RL always, don't worry about it

[asthedrivensnow]

"Only a little bit."

If she were in anything approaching her right mind, the fact that he just handed her his wand would tell Narcissa a million and one things. As it is, all she does is favour him with a brilliant smile as she takes it and uses it to make it rain in his studio. Despite their intoxication, the magically-induced shower doesn't touch anything but them, and the floor. Perhaps it takes pity on them... but none of his supplies will be wet, later, and there will be no flooding.

Just rain, and she laughs in delight as cool water soaks her in moments.

[prettyawkward]

He felt the drops hit his face, and there's a strange sensation that seems to slowly fold over him, like a blanket, ready to suffocate. He takes a shaky breath and scoots closer to her warmth. The coolness feels nice, but the water...the wet...it caused him to cling to her, where he could.

"Just don't drown me. Don't drown me..."

[asthedrivensnow]

Still resting her head on his stomach, they wind up curled around each other as he scoots closer to her - his thighs along her back, his arm tugged in and held at her chest, her slender hands wrapped around his wrist as rain falls on them both.

"You're always in the rain," she points out, water clinging to her lashes only to be dashed away by more water again. "I helped you then, too. No drowning."

[prettyawkward]

Rabastan took a deep breath, slowly letting it exhale, sputtering bits of water that happened to curl down across his lips. He hated water, but he hated loneliness more. The feeling of someone else with him was enough to lull his mind into a place it rarely went--calm and quiet. Even if it was only for a little while. There were moments when his body was so utterly exhausted, that his brain would just shut down everything so he could finally fall asleep. Now this overwhelming pleasure was enough to start the slow decline into relaxation.

"That's good... Maybe I wouldn't mind it...right now."

[asthedrivensnow]

Letting go of his wrist long enough to wave his wand at the ceiling, Narcissa stops the rain, and they lie in a soaked ball in the large puddle in the middle of the room. Nothing else is wet, only themselves, and she grips his wrist with both hands like a lifeline. Eyes closed, her lashes are dark against her fair skin, and water clings to them as it clings to the rest of her, the thin silk of her camisole and knickers so transparent they might as well not be there.

"Too much explaining, if you drown," she murmurs. "No drowning."

She's completely forgotten that she'd come here to be an artist's model again.