#Private Beach | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nihiladditaenihilperdidi · 1 month ago

Text

Private Beach || Rune + Anya || May 1st, 2024

Rune: "I beg to differ."

Anya: "You're not the one people would stare at."

Rune: "You're right. That's my privilege."

Anya: "In private? Sure. I trust your eyes."

Rune: "Private beach?"

Anya: "If you know of one, definitely. I've never been on a private beach. Fancy."

Rune: "Can rent one pretty much anywhere."

Anya: "For how much?"

Rune: "Mmmmoney."

Anya: "How much money?"

Rune: "I've never rented one. Brazil has some isolated pockets. Hokkaido. No luck in Willemstad."

Anya: "Hm. Well, we can look into it. Have you been to Brazil?"

Rune: "Mm. Fallen in a time or two."

Anya: "Wow. How's your Portuguese?"

Rune: "Mmm..." He winced. "As well as Papiamento can get me. Like a Spaniard picking up Italian, I guess."

Anya: "That sounds... stressful." She didn't envy his sleepwalking. "But you're still here. Lucky, lucky man. Maybe we could both use a day at the beach."

Rune: "What kind of beach do you want?"

Anya: "A warm one. I want to swim without freezing."

Rune: "Close your eyes and point anywhere on the southern hemisphere of a globe and we're gone."

Anya: "Just like that?"

Rune: "After we see your mother."

Anya: She inhaled deeply and exhaled with a raspberry. Right. That. "You're coming with me?"

Rune: "Unless you want another ruggedly handsome medium on your journey."

Anya: "I'm fresh out of backup handsome mediums, I'm afraid. And the unattractive ones just aren't as good."

Rune: "Guess you're saddled with me."

Rune forced himself up on his elbows.

"Where'd Honey go?"

Anya: "Happily." She gestured with her phone to the floating shelves above his bed. The kinkajou had found higher ground in the wee hours, and was curled up fast asleep beside his box of tissues, sucking on her paw not unlike a toddler on its thumb.

"We'll have to put her back soon. I don't want June or Cathy calling me in a panic."

With a soft hum, she added the two piece set to cart and locked her mobile. Maybe.

Rune: His head craned for a peek, seeing only her tail from his angle, back against the wall.

"What time is - mm. Bathroom, and we'll put her back."

Being on the inner part of the bed meant having the tactile pleasure of crawling over his lovely guest, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake.

Anya: It was still quite early. Before dawn, though the sky was growing brighter. Anya was an early riser, but she made no move to follow Rune out of bed. She giggled at his smattering of kisses and burrowed deeper into the sheets, stealing his pillow when he'd passed out of sight.

"Take your time. Soon, but not so soon that you have to rush."

Rune: "Then my teeth, too," he muttered through a yawn. If Anya was going to be a regular face in this apartment, perhaps a curtain for the bathroom was finally in order. He'd been putting it off long enough. Curtains were harmless.

After the bathroom, he meandered to the kitchen for instant coffee and sugar cubes.

Was he still naked? Yes.

"Coffee? There's no milk."

Anya: She rummaged about in her bag for her mobile charger, eyes sweeping the wall for an outlet. Her nose wrinkled at the prospect of black coffee. Of course no milk.

"Mm. Maybe? Do you have sugar? If not, then no. I'll wait until later."

Rune: "How many sugar cubes?" He felt as though he should know this, but kept that to himself.

Anya: "Four?" The uncertainty of the answer was self-directed. How much sugar would she need to cut through the bitterness without milk?

"Yeah, four is fine."

Rune: Rune craned his head from the hallway, making no effort to conceal his wanton gaze.

"We can just get coffee around the corner. The place has bagels and all the salmon you could want. It's next to the flower shop."

Anya: All the salmon she could want was no salmon, but she only smiled, not shrinking at all under his dark eyes.

"Bagels! Perfect. I just need a few minutes for my phone to charge."

And to get dressed. Nudity with Rune was surprisingly comfortable, but the day awaited and she still wanted to avoid being arrested.

Rune: The corner of his mouth tightened. She was very skilled at hiding her grimace.

"Do you want your cream cheese vegan? They've got goat cheese. I was almost tempted." He turned back to the kitchen. Just a cup for himself, jeans snatched along the way.

Anya: "No, sir. How many different flavors do they have?" She was already daydreaming about garden vegetable.

With a reluctant groan, Anya rolled out of bed and plugged in her charger, leaving her phone on the desk as she padded on bare feet to the bathroom.

Mm. Maybe a door would have been preferable. Whatever.

Rune: "That's their selling point. If you can think of it they probably have it."

But he wasn't thinking about The Bagel Place, nor the coffee he was stirring. Sleeping on the inside of the bed, gated by her soft frame, he hasn't moved once. What was it about a warm body that prevented him from stumbling into a shitty situation?

"You sleep all right?"

Anya: "Oooh. Might have to get two." It was possible that it was the early-morning hunger speaking.

"Mhm. I'm very well-rested." The same could be said for Rune, it would seem. He hadn't budged throughout the night. Might've had something to do with her body blocking his way off of the bed.

"I guess we lucked out, again," she yawned.

Rune: "Tends to happen when I'm with you. I think you're a good luck charm."

Black coffee in hand, a little too much sugar, the thick mauve mug was set aside as he dropped to his knees on the bedroom floor.

"Anything else you want out of the house?" He assumed she'd be putting back her things from the bathroom, but wasted no time performing his ritual.

Anya: Her laugh was muffled by a mouthful of toothpaste, but the idea warmed her better than a cup of coffee ever could. She'd keep that to herself, though.

A spritz of leave in conditioner and another of hair oil had her curls refreshed for the day. She left them loose as she hurried from the bathroom, not thinking to collect her toiletries.

"Wait, wait, wait! Let me say goodbye!" Just a last sleepy kinkajou cuddle before he put Honey back.

"Um... I can't think of anything." Her thoughts spun for a moment as she scooped the little darling from the shelf and cradled her close. "Oh! Clean socks. Should be in the same drawer as my underwear."

Rune: "Clean socks," he echoed, glancing at the cuddlefest on his left. Perhaps, if this were a regular occurrence, having an animal visit every night she slept in his bed; any that was willing and able to fit through the hole.

The thought made him smile.

"Can she go anywhere?" Rune flattened on the hardwood, reaching for the handle of her drawer and anything sock shaped.

Anya: "Technically? Yes. But she might be... grumpy." Already, Honey was rasping her protest at being stirred from sleep. Anya nuzzled the top of her head.

"Anywhere in the bedroom should be fine." He was already there, after all. "Shh. Hush. Don't you want to have a snack before bed? June will bring you nice fruit."

Rune: "Goodness," Rune soothed, sitting up to examine the socks he'd grabbed before putting them back. "Such drama from such a little girl."

There we go, something white and darling.

"Ready to hand her over?"

Anya: Just one more squeeze, to soothe those squeaky complaints.

"Here. I'll trade you." Anya offered the kinkajou in exchange for the fresh pair of socks. She flopped onto the bed to don them, despite not having on a stich of anything else.

"Say bye to Rune, kochanie."

Rune: "Not for long," he cooed, giving a little scritch to the back of the Honey's head. Anywhere in the bedroom meant letting her slowly spill from his hand at the foot of Anya's bed. He wouldn't ask about her toiletries, nor let the warmth he was feeling break his poker face.

His hand swept over his stomach, sighing away the magnetic-like tug just below his navel. Company was coming.

"Your outfit's outstanding. What's it called? Haute couture."

Anya: Ha! She grinned at him, broad and playful, and wiggled a socked foot in his direction.

"Do you like it? I call the look 'Misdemeanor Chic.' Surprisingly comfortable, but a little much for every day. Definitely a special occasion outfit."

Blindly, she plucked her underwear from where she'd left them atop her bag and pulled them on.

"I'll be ready before you are."

Rune: Certainly the case, as he hadn't moved a muscle, save for the steady gaze of his hungry eyes. She was a masterpiece of nature and nurture. What artists strived to sculpt.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Definitely."

The portal was closed, easing some of the tension in his shoulders and forearms. He forced himself to his feet, shuffling over to the pale plain wardrobe squished between the desk and the brick wall. Black, of course, but a dark olive shirt caught his attention. He didn't glance back at Anya before slipping it on. In her honor. Would pair well with his black suit and mulberry socks.

Anya: The heat that warmed her face was more reflective of those eyes than any lingering shyness. She watched Rune cross to his wardrobe for an indulgent moment, before snagging her dress as well. No bra Anya owned would have been suitable for it, but the bodice was fitted enough for it not to matter. It was the fit that had won her over in the second-hand shop-- as though it had been tailored for her figure.

She waited in content silence for Rune to finish dressing. One corner of her mouth curved at the sight of the finished product.

"Handsome," she said, reaching for his hand. "I really like your shirt."

Rune: Still without shoes; they could wait a moment longer. Her hand was taken without question - he couldn't recall a time he had ever hesitated.

"Lucky me." Did she mind? His lips upon her again. On her cheek, jaw, and neck. The brush of his nose against her skin, and the smile she would feel that followed.

And then the smile was gone, and so was his affection. Looking her over as if for the first time.

"I've..." The impulse of confession was and had always been a hot flash. A need so strong as to pull the first word of thought before good sense took grasp.

The corner of his mouth twitched.

"Ready to go?"

Anya: There was no resistance to his touch, nor the brush of his lips. Nothing on their agenda was so pressing that they couldn't afford a moment of closeness.

Or more than a moment.

She wasn't starving.

His mouth against her skin had her tingling from head to toe. Her free hand settled on his waist, fingers flexing against toned muscle she knew was hidden beneath that lovely shirt.

But too soon his lips were gone. Anya kept a firm hold on his hand, lacing her fingers through his. She'd be ignoring his question in favor of picking up the thought he'd abandoned.

"You've...?"

Rune: He should have known better. Her walking back his dropped thought was exactly what he would have done for her. Their mutual encouragement from each other to exist alongside thoughts, feelings, and impulses.

"I've never said I love you as much as I have with you. That's all."

Anya: That's all. As though he was merely commenting on the weather, and not causing her heart to somersault painfully in her chest. The corners of her mouth twitched. The faintest smile, gone as soon as it appeared.

"I like hearing it."

And it had been... what? A total of three days, all said? Maybe they were compensating for years spent feeling what they wouldn't say.

The hand on his waist shifted to cup his face, and she leaned forward to kiss him deeply. She lingered, savoring the taste of mint and coffee, before she forced herself to pull away.

"Let me just grab my stuff, and we can go."

Rune: His guard dissolved before it could form. Eyes closed, nose squished, blissful and ignorant of the world outside his apartment.

At least until she pulled away.

His hand pressed to his abdomen again, ignored with a sigh. He filled his shoes with feet, checked himself in the mirror, and waited at the door.

"How much hand-holding do you want today?"

Anya: She was all smiles and early-morning cheer as she collected her phone and bag. She passed by the bathroom and slipped into her boots, bending to lace them with quick, proficient fingers.

Rune was met at the door. His question had her chuckling, and she took his hand as a matter of course.

"Excessive hand-holding. Until your fingers ache and you beg for a break. And then I'll hold your arm. Let's go. I'm starving."

Rune: "You've always held my arm." Just a matter of fact. It was not an understatement to say her grasp pleased him. His arm belonged to her.

But the rest of him was on loan.

The hallway was silent. Down the stairs to the second floor, an announcer shouted over the roaring crowd of a stadium. The groan of a sofa and the tap of a walking cane. Only apartment 201 made noise.

The first floor was quiet, and so were Rune's steps. A glance was offered to the brass plaque of apartment 102, but said nothing. Not until they reached the heavy double doors, looking pointedly to his left.

"Not quite," he said to the air between them. "Two blocks. Go around this building, across the street. Behind the church with the gold onion domes." A pause. "No, old man, it hasn't moved. I'd know if it sprouted legs. If you've gone to the cleaners you've gone too far."

Anya: A single shoulder rose and fell, her smile still warm. "You've always offered it."

She took the stairs on equally silent feet. Managed despite her heavy boots. The sounds of movement had even her breath quieting. It wouldn't do to draw the attention of his neighbors with her hands still empty. It seemed she wasn't the only early riser in the building.

Her eyes cut to Rune when he began to speak. It was immediately clear it wasn't her he was addressing. Some sort of spirit, surely.

Anya held her tongue, and would only raise her eyebrows if she caught his gaze.

Rune: Anya's hand was squeezed. A good sport as usual. She didn't mind now, but someday she'd be rolling her eyes.

"Not everyone is like No," he muttered, kissed the back of her hand.

Anya: She nodded, looking at the empty space for the faintest glimmer of anything. But seeing nothing, she looked to the mage instead.

"I guess it's a relief, to find someone who understands you. It's not exactly the same as what I do, but I get it."

He could see what others couldn't. She could hear what no one else understood. A voice for the voiceless.

Rune: Anya's arm was wrapped around his own, bringing her that much closer as they existed through the iron gate and the safety of Hillkate.

"With your childhood, I'm surprised you don't see them. Can happen, sometimes, to those with trauma."

Anya: She took his arm as easily as she always did, her head tipping against his in a brief show of affection.

"Mm. Maybe it would have been too much for one person. Between ghosts and animals I'd never have a moment of quiet."

Rune: "Ha." She wasn't wrong. As useful as it could be, as fulfilling as it could be, he didn't wish his power on her. She had enough altruism on her plate.

"Together we're... some kind of superhero. Is it any wonder you chose me," he smirked.

Anya: The picture he painted had her laughing, silent but genuine.

"Dynamic duo. I like it. You're gonna have to wear a mask and a cape. All my childhood dreams are coming true."

Rune: "I think we've talked about this, or did I see into the future? Yours would be emerald, I think."

Anya: "We did. Or... we talked about me drawing my super suit when I was little. We never talked about designing yours. Emerald for me. What about you?"

Rune: He knew the answer but shrugged, opening his free arm to present himself.

"This is it." Sans an unassuming puce tie. "You're seeing me in my work clothes."

Anya: She gave him a deliberate once-over. Interesting, to know how he dressed when he did what he did.

"Handsome." She repeated her earlier compliment, but soon shook her head. "But that's just you. If we're teaming up, we have to look like it. Obviously."

Rune: "Hmm. I don't watch TV. You'd have to pick someone for me." But to look as though he were teaming up with her. He considered. "Something green, maybe. You said we have to look like a team."

Anya: "No comic books, either?" She smirked. "Dashing heroes and surprisingly sympathetic villains? We don't have to match perfectly. We just have to complement each other."

Rune: Rune looked at his suit, feeling just a bit naked without a tie.

"I'm missing my tie," he decided. "Maybe... maybe a domino mask. Is there a comic hero in a suit and eye covering?"

Anya: "A few, I think. Sharp suit with a hat to match. Mask." She smiled crookedly.

"I might have to make some tweaks to mine, but it could work. We can go back for your tie; we're not too far."

Rune: "No, no. We're talking super suits. Focus!" His smile was cheeky. "Suit, gloves, mask, hat - I'm turning into some noir villain."

Anya: "Okay, okay!" she laughed, squeezing his arm.

"I'll tell you the truth, there are definitely more villains in suits than heroes, but it's not unheard of. I think you'll be fine. Especially if you're with me."

Rune: "What if I'm the villain?" A serious question posed with only a hint of a smile, thoughtful more than anything.

"I'll give you my weaknesses now."

Anya: "You're not," she said, with complete sincerity. Her faith in him was as solid as stone.

"I'll keep your weaknesses safe; we're a team."

Rune: "The world better watch out. You have no weakness. Men crumble at your merciless feet."

Anya: "I've never met anybody without some weakness. Men crumble at my feet, anyway."

Rune: "Have I ever told you, your confidence is fucking sexy?"

Anya: She laughed, at that, and pressed a kiss to the side of his face.

"You haven't. But better late than never."

Rune: If she left a lipstick mark he wouldn't notice nor care. Not today.

"You want a paper man or a sidekick?"

Anya: No such luck. The worst he'd endure so early in the morning was the faint sheen of a moisturizing lip balm.

"You want to be my sidekick?" she asked, grinning. "Robin to my Batman?"

Rune: "You're the one with the cape," he smirked.

Anya: "Mm. You're not wrong. Have it your way."

She gave his arm a playful little jostle.

"You'll make the cutest sidekick. I'm pretty sure that means you'll have to do what I say."

Rune: "You're taking full advantage of me." Not that he was complaining.

As they rounded the corner, the scent of fresh baked breads and sugar hung in the air. Rune glanced back the way they had come, but not for nostalgia.

"You don't need my name. Your route's that way," he pointed.

Anya: She inhaled that telltale bakery aroma with an appreciative sigh, ignoring the pang of hunger that swiftly followed. They'd be stuffing their faces soon enough.

"That's my job, as your hero. I promise not to abuse my power."

Her gaze followed his for a beat. Seeing nothing again, she turned forward with a nod. They had a shadow.

"What do they want?"

Rune: "To go to his funeral." The streets were relatively quiet. Not a procession of vehicles or pedestrians on either side. Through the hum of life beyond their sight was a solid booming voice. Beyond the bakery was the cathedral, and behind its great arches and domes lay the graveyard.

Anya: The corners of her mouth turned down in a pronounced frown. Very recently deceased, then. And not yet resting in peace. Poor soul.

"Mm. No, thank you. The last thing I need to witness is my mama falling apart and my papa trying to keep it together for her sake."

Rune: That was uniquely specific. Something she had considered before, perhaps.

"You don't have to see anything you don't want to."

Another glance behind. A sigh.

"You go on ahead. I'll catch up."

Anya: "I don't mind waiting. Do you want me to go? I can order for you, if you'd like."

Rune: "Unless you want to walk through a church." He wasn't going to make that decision for her. "Just taking him around the corner."

Anya: "It's fine. Waiting here or walking with you. I'm waiting, regardless. I can take a detour. Let's get him where he needs to go."

Rune: Could he say he loved her again? That would be too much.

"Mein Spatzi." Her hand was lovingly squeezed as they were turned back to the corner.

"Alright old man. You got your wish."

Anya: His squeeze was returned in kind. Anya walked contentedly at his side, wondering if the spirit could even see her, wearing Rune's ring as she was. Perhaps they were invisible to each other. Only Rune able to see them both.

"I'm supposed to be looking at beautiful New York City architecture anyway, remember? No time like the present."

Rune: An old man in life, a young spirit, stared at the seemingly young man, old spirit, talking to himself.

"Brooklyn is superior to Manhattan, don't let anyone fool you."

His head turned an inch to the wraith.

"By the pharmacy? That's you?" He clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Heights just lost the best Greek - mm." Rune sighed through his nose. "Then it's in good hands."

The church rivaled the height of every neighboring apartment building. Three crosses on gold onion domes stretched to the heavens. Its beauty matched only by the other historical landmarks scattered about the borough. One of the few buildings with its original iron gates. He wasn't the only mage watching over Brooklyn.

"You're in there, Papadakis."

Another pause, wherein Rune laced his fingers with Anya, and squeezed again.

"It's... a surprise. I promise it'll be interesting."

Anya: "I haven't spent as much time here, but you know I trust your judgment." Her lips twitched, listening to one half of a conversation. Rune continued to be an impossible man.

She looked up to admire the ornate building, twisting a curl around the fingers of her free hand. It really was a beautiful church.

"Is he on his way?"

Rune: His silence stretched for a breath before nodding once. "Mm. Old man never thought to retire. Left his restaurant to his son. He won't stick around for long."

Anya: "Some people need to work for their entire lives. Keeps them young. I don't think that Mr. Grzesiak would have retired if he'd lived to be a hundred. My papa will probably be the same."

She shrugged. An idle life didn't really suit her, either.

"It was kind of you to walk with him. It must be scary, to go it alone. Or at least nice to have company."

Rune: That was the theme of their lives. He had realized along the way to the graveyard. It was the most significant of a handful of themes. One could call his reluctance to expire a reluctance to retire. Anya's life was purposeful. The lives that surrounded them shared the same fate.

The sleepless fate of the restless.

"Just talked about his restaurant and his son. Without his son, I don't think he'd be going anywhere."

Anya: "Sounds like he needed someone to talk to, then. I'm glad he had his son. And that his son had him. Maybe we can have Greek, one of these days."

On that subject, her stomach gave another uncomfortable pang, and she tightened her hold on him, turning back in the direction they'd come.

"Now, let's go eat. Before I waste away, right here on the sidewalk. I'm wasting, Rune."

Rune: "Papadakis is the place in Brooklyn Heights... apparently," the mage smirked.

"Oh, my goodness. Do you want me to carry you into the bakery, honey?" The pet name was a slip, but it was too late to take it back. He allowed it to float in the air between them.

Anya: Honey. That was new. She decided immediately that she didn't mind it. It warmed her just as effectively as 'Spatzi' did. One corner of her mouth curved upward.

"You can carry me to the door. I should be able to make it from there."

Rune: The bakery was within view. Scooping Anya into his arms was effortless and for the world to see.

"Are you sure?" Busy fighting a smile. "You can eat your bagels right here."

Anya: She slung an easy arm over his shoulders, laughing delightedly.

"Yeah, but then how do you eat your bagels? I still can't let you starve."

Rune: "You feed me yourself!" he laughed, gently wrinkling around his eyes.

Anya: Her fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck as he walked, burying a chuckle against his shoulder.

"Okay, okay. My hands are yours to use. What do you have on your bagels, anyway? Butter? Or maybe one of those breakfast sandwiches with eggs, hold the cheese?"

Rune: "Hummus," he nodded. "Smoked salmon. Haven't had one in a while. My neighbor usually brings one when he knows I'm in. If I'm not with you, it's just boiled eggs and coffee."

Anya: She hummed in quiet approval. Excellent taste.

"I love hummus. Not as good as cream cheese, for a bagel. But with carrots, or crackers, or chips..."

G-d, she was ravenous. She redirected that line of thought.

"Boiled eggs and coffee. I didn't even see eggs. I'm getting you groceries."

Rune: "I can get groceries anytime." Didn't sound like an enjoyable day out for his best friend, but then again if she offered the same, he knew what his answer would be.

A sigh. "I haven't shopped in ages."

Anya: "And yet, your cabinets are basically empty."

The corner of her mouth lifted. A short trip wouldn't interrupt much, she figured.

"I can see that. I'm happy to do it. I can have them delivered, even. Or order for pickup. Just swing by in an hour or two."

Rune: "You and your fancy online whatevers." They had reached the glass door. Her decision whether she returned to her feet or pulled the silver handle.

Anya: She snorted softly. "I wouldn't call it fancy. Convenient, sure. Don't be stubborn."

In fact, she was fishing out her mobile right at that moment and opening an app. Reaching for the handle of the door was an act of pure distraction.

"Ok. Where are we starting? Eggs?"

Rune: "Making me a grocery list already, you mad woman? Breakfast first." Breakfast, flowers, old nuns, grocery run - their day was filling up. Had they intended this? Had she? The peek into his life was ever expanding.

Anya: "I can multitask." She glanced up at the menu, scanning it briefly, before dropping her gaze back to her mobile. Just as she'd suspected, she knew precisely what she wanted.

"So... eggs?"

Rune: "Mhm." Seemed she was fixed on filling his fridge now to the point of being more interesting than bagels and cream cheese. He would have laughed if it hadn't been for him.

"Ja, mevrouw. I'll eat the eggs you really want me to have," he smirked.

Anya: "I appreciate your cooperation." She gave a satisfied nod, ignoring any eyes that lingered on a grown woman being carried. She'd look back up long enough to place her order, at least. An asiago bagel with garden vegetable cream cheese, and a large soy milk latte. With brown sugar syrup, if they had it.

"What about bread? Do you even have a toaster? I didn't see a toaster."

Rune: A poppy seed bagel with hummus and lox. Coffee, black. He couldn't negotiate for his wallet and cradle her simultaneously. A decision had to be made.

"I use a skillet. Toaster broke in '93." If he started to relax his arm to let her drop, would she cling?

Anya: "'93,'" she echoed, lifting her gaze to his face. "And it's been the skillet ever since, hm?"

That felt like a revelation, though she wasn't quite sure of what, yet. Something to add to her own, private list for the future, perhaps.

The steady support of his arms lessened. She wasn't going to fight it, only slip to her feet with a sigh and add bread, quickly seeking out a table to grab and wait for their breakfast to be ready.

Rune: It hadn't occurred to him to be bothered by it, but the way her gaze lingered, and her echo of the year gave him pause. A small deflective smile creased the corner of his mouth.

"What?"

Anya: "Hm?" She'd located a table near a window and taken a seat, legs crossing at the ankles.

"Nothing. I was just wondering why you never replaced it."

Rune: "Skillet does just fine," he shrugged, sitting across from her. "You do what you're accustomed to."

Anya: "I suppose. And you don't have an issue standing at a stove." Which had to make life much less complicated.

"But you'd also probably say I'm spoiled by convenience. Whatever makes the mundane tasks easier, so I have more time for the stuff that matters most to me. On that note, how do you feel about produce?"

Rune: Ah. If she was going to be a regular visitor of Hillkate, there needed to be some accommodations. The curtain for the bathroom, a toaster...

"What are you trying to make me, healthy?"

Anya: "Healthy and happy, as always. But I don't want to be wasteful if it's just going to rot."

She hummed and scrolled.

"Shelf stable stuff, then. I know you like your oily fish."

Rune: "A toaster," he decided. "Anywhere. Maybe not Thomas and Jesse," he winced. "Probably cursed."

If this was really happening, then he couldn't dismiss her desire.

"Apples and grapes. If I don't eat them, someone else will. I've never had a potato spoil."

Anya: "I can add a toaster, I'm sure." Sooner than she'd expected, but he'd hear no complaints. She only beamed at him, and dropped her eyes back to the screen.

"No. Last thing we need is cursed toast. Apples, grapes, potatoes. Check, check, check."

They could skip right over dairy, of course.

"Bottled water? I think you gave the last of yours to Honey."

Rune: "Sure."

Rune stared out the window, considering what else he could possibly need.

"Get yourself some creamer. That dry stuff. Won't go bad."

More staring, chin now in hand. "I really... can't remember the last time I shopped."

Anya: Sweet man. Her leg brushed against his beneath the table, humming softly at the scrape of fabric over her bare skin.

"Creamer. Check."

French Vanilla, would suit her just fine. She only had her own tastes to consider. There was no dairy in the creamer, but he preferred his coffee black.

"So, who gets your eggs and coffee, then?"

Rune: One hand supported his chin, the other under the table, teasing the tips of his fingers over warm skin. Poker face.

"A nun comes by, sometimes a priest. They make a list for everyone. Most of the time I'm not around, but I still get knocks."

Anya: Anya's face could hide nothing, try as she might to bite down on a smile.

"That's kind of them. Good to know they're looking out for you."

But she still had every intention of sparing them at least one trip.

"That everything? No snacks?"

Rune: "Boiled eggs and potatoes are snacks."

Their order was called. Rune stood to retrieve, glancing back.

"Eating here or walk and eat?"

Anya: Anya begged to differ, but the food was for him. She lifted a shoulder and nodded, watching him collect their breakfast.

Walking would always appeal. Still, they had a set plan for the day.

"You said the flower shop is close by, yeah? Let's eat here, so we don't bring food in."

Rune: Their food was removed from the bag. The lady behind the counter did a double take. So many people, that man included, were usually in and out. That New York life. Sitting was generally reserved for late afternoon with dead eyes and slumped shoulders.

"Next door." The first sip of coffee was heavenly.

"Crackers," he decided. "For the fish. That's it. Whatever else you want in the cabinets... you can have one. A cabinet."

Anya: Her very own cabinet. Anya was too busy smiling at Rune to notice any eyes on them. She buried the expression behind a sip of her latte and reached for what she hoped was her bagel with an eager hand.

She really was ravenous.

"Crackers. Check. And I'll... add a couple of things for myself, then."

Mostly vegetarian or vegan staples, so they wouldn't have to order out every time she stayed over. And she would stay over, it seemed. With a cabinet, and all. She took a very Rune-like bite of her bagel and tried not to choke.

"They don't have a toaster," she said, when she'd managed to swallow. "I'll have to look for one somewhere else."

Rune: Her smile was contagious. There was nothing unusual about that, but knowing something as basic as security filled her with joy—he had forgotten what that felt like. It had taken many long years before laying down roots, only to avoid those very roots out of necessity and convenience.

But this wasn't the same. Security of a person... nothing. Not like her. Not in a lifetime. When was the last time he had told anyone? Even Jesse?

"Careful," he smiled, mirroring her bite.

"Cursed toaster it is," he shrugged. "I'll be back for another beetle, eventually."

Anya: Her next bite was much more measured, despite her efforts to fight a laugh. Hungry or not, she just couldn't keep up with him.

She cleared her mouth with a sip from her drink before speaking again.

"No cursed toasters. I'll find one! There are other stores. The groceries should be ready to pick up by the time we buy flowers and talk to your nuns. Then the day is ours."

Rune: "I warn you, talking to nuns takes twenty minutes to ten hours. Talk about the weather, the Bible, the neighbor's cat, chess, Cab Calloway. You give a signal and we're out of there."

Anya: She covered a chuckle with the back of her wrist, working on another mouthful of bagel.

"Noted. I don't mind chatting for a while. Especially about the neighbor's cat." She flashed a smile.

"I want to get to know them."

Rune: He was hiding his grin behind his cup of coffee. The question was just too easy to pluck.

"The cat or the nuns?"

Anya: She snorted. "Both. Definitely both."

Rune: "What was our code word before? Do you remember? I forget what it was for."

Anya: "Mackerel!" Not something that Anya would easily forget. Not even years later. Her eyes narrowed at him across the table, but her mouth was tight with suppressed laughter.

"For danger. And you didn't use it. What's the point of a code if you don't use it, sir?"

Rune: "Clearly I'm forgetful." Not normally like him, but it was such a throwaway discussion. He had only remembered now, because...

"We should have one for I love you."

Anya: Oh. Well, that softened her smile. She was warmed by more than the early morning sun streaming in through the window.

"Hm. Yes. Definitely not mackerel. Something you won't forget."

Rune: His smile returned, smug this time, and still behind his cup.

"Say 'tobiuo.'"

Anya: Oh, she was suspicious of that smile. She squinted at him, but obliged.

"To...biuo? Is that right? Tobiuo? What does it mean?"

Rune: "Tow-bee-oh." He nodded. She had an excellent ear for language. "Flying fish."

Anya: She burst into delighted laughter, narrowly avoiding her latte taking a path down the wrong pipe. Flying fish, indeed. She did so love him.

"Better than mackerel. Tobiuo, then. You are... so cute."

Rune: There was no hiding his delight now. Chin in hand, eyes narrowed and wrinkled, holding back laughter as he enjoyed the sight of her.

"Have I told you about avatars?"

Anya: A small shake of her head, mirth still in her eyes as she nibbled at what remained of her breakfast.

"Nope. I'm guessing you're not talking about the movie. No blue people with tails?"

Rune: "Lord, have mercy." Just for that, he was finishing his bagel. "Where do you think magic comes from?"

Anya: Her shrug was completely innocent. Anya only knew as much as she'd been told by him. And, more recently, by Vincent.

"Um... you're born with it? And I'm guessing there are probably, like, magical places."

Rune: "Magical places," he mused, then shrugged, nodding as he wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"You could say that. I'm not teleporting to Amsterdam and Cape Town. Where I go is... magical places, yeah."

A sip of coffee would help wash down the conversation.

"Some people are born awakened. Like me. Most of the time, people learn. We call it awakening for a reason. When you realize magic is real, tangible, and you're a part of it, it all clicks. Then the real fun begins. What awakens is a part of your soul, and it takes all shapes. Can you guess what mine looks like?"

Anya: Leaning forward to rest her head on her open palm, Anya hung on his every word. This new openness about his life continued to captivate her.

"I..." She really couldn't begin to guess. What did a piece of a soul look like? Did it glow? Was it like a ball of light? But she recalled his earlier smile, and what had prompted this conversation in the first place.

"A tobiuo... A flying fish?"

Rune: She seemed to enjoy this newly opened window; her enthusiasm was as infectious as her smile. Still, one story at a time.

"Mm. No two are alike. Just one of those things no one talks about," he shrugged.

His gaze was no longer upon her, but just above her, lingering where a halo should be. He breathed slow and deep.

"Ruine has always liked you."

Anya: Her gaze followed his, head tipping back to examine... the grungy cafe ceiling. She was still smiling when she looked to Rune again, her head tilting this way and that.

"Rune, Ruine. Cute."

That a little piece of Rune's soul liked her was wonderful to hear.

"I'm flattered. Is... she always with you? Or... he?"

Rune: "She. Not that she's in a skirt. She just... is." Another shrug. Aware of his body language, he sat up.

"Actually, I see her less than I see you. She just pops up when I'm with you. Comes around when she pleases. No rhyme or reason."

Anya: "I didn't think so, but a fish in a skirt is... a mental image."

One that had her cracking a grin.

"Mm. Does she speak to you? Does she speak at all?"

Rune: "Mm. You could call it that. Sounds like... bird song, if birds could sing underwater. That and," he tilted his head, "a very, very old language."

Anya: Birdsong. A favorite of hers, but that was no secret.

"Must be pretty." Possibly pretty confusing, if Rune didn't understand the language. He probably did, polyglot that he was.

"Does that mean anyone can do magic, then? As long as they learn how?"

Rune: Her question twisted his insides, eyes fixed upon the table with a faraway look behind his lashes. When he looked up, it was with a measured smile.

"With enough belief, practice, skill, of course you can."

Anya: There he went... and she wasn't exactly sure why. What old memory had she inadvertently trampled upon?

"You ok?" she asked, brow furrowed. His answer could wait a moment.

Rune: "I'm not broken." But he offered his hand, anyway.

Anya: "I didn't ask if you were broken," she countered, slipping her hand into his. "Only if you were ok. You looked sad for a minute there, but we don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to. You done with breakfast?"

Rune: "Eyes like a hawk." His smile was brief, but hardly a mask.

"Mm. Flowers for kleine nonnen." He began gathering their trash for the bin.

"Tobiuo."

Anya: Anya made no protest to his tidying. She busied herself with draining the last of her drink and tossing out her cup. His arm was taken again as a matter of course, and given a gentle squeeze. Another 'I love you', this one without words.

"Do you know their favorites, or are we going more generic?" she asked, starting for the door.

Rune: Silent or coded, the love was there. There would come a point when he wouldn't know what to do with it, but for now, cool as a cucumber.

"There's a painting on - I bet I can find it." Keeping her arm for himself, Rune pulled out his phone and did quick research while they walked to the next glass door.

"Sister Francis has this in her living room. One like it," he said, offering his brick. A painting of a nun wearing a heavy crown of flowers stared confidently back.

Anya: Arm looping more securely through his to free her hands, she took his phone.

"Oh, it's beautiful," she mumbled, mostly to herself, attempting to zoom in to get a better look at the crown of flowers the nun wore. She took another moment to examine the blooms on the spear she held, as well.

"Hm. Looks like they might be zawilec... or... or..."

For her life, she couldn't bring the English name to mind.

"These red ones might be cynie. We can show this to the florist. Make something really close. This is perfect."

Rune: Rune looked at the photo again, as though staring might translate what was lost to language. Should he know this word? He didn't even remember the name of his favorite flower if it could be called.

"We'll just shove it in her face, yeah."

There was no urgency in explaining his usual custom of color coding based on the time of year—when he was around to bother. Blue for Angelic Salutation, red for Pascha, green for Pentecost, and white for the fortunate peaceful death of yet another old soul.

In his many decades in and out of the lives of those at Hillkate, a floral gift of every color had been given at least once.

The flower shop was as unassuming as a flower shop could be. Cool-toned and relatively quiet. The dulcet sound of 1950s pop emanated from somewhere behind a split-leaf philodendron, one of the few leaf plants in the entirety of the shop. A woman in her late forties hummed along with Bobby Darin while sorting a large clear refrigerator, thick black curls swaying with her restless bobbing.

Anya: She snorted, still studying the digital image, trusting Rune not to steer her into any obstacles.

"Mm. Maybe less shoving and more politely offering. I like flowers. I don't want to get banned from the shop for life."

The promise of more time in Brooklyn was a warm and comforting presence in the back of her mind, a blanket she didn't want to shed. Surely, in time, she'd become as familiar with the businesses around his flat as she was with those near the squat, ugly building she used to call home.

Anya looked up as they passed through the florist's door, but she kept hold of Rune's brick of a phone. She inhaled the scent of freshly cut flowers with a smile, one that lingered when she spotted the woman running the shop.

"Good morning," she greeted, cheerfully.

Rune: The woman turned around with a smile behind the creases that made her mouth. The name Tammy was etched on a colorful badge pinned to the strap of her apron.

"Well hi," she greeted. "What can I do you for?"

Rune looked from the phone to Anya and back. With a breath, he turned the screen.

"Looking for these." Blunt as a butter knife, the very thing he had warned her about.

Anya: Anya's smile widened. Her affection for the man at her side was apparent in every line of her body. She gave his arm a squeeze, attention still on the dark-haired florist as she swallowed a laugh.

"Or as close as you can get. I thought that I recognized what some of the flowers might be, but I can't remember the name to save my life. Do you think you could help us out? It doesn't have to be perfect. A similar... vibe, is fine."

Rune: Tammy was quick to place her hand behind Rune's, holding him steady and pulling him closer for a better look, staring from above her gold-rimmed spectacles.

"That looks like impatiens, maybe. We ain't got any of those. All tulips, hyacinths, and daffodils this time of year. That's a rose. I think that's a marigold. I can definitely do that. How's that sound? Marigolds, roses; how about some lily of the valley or baby's breath for some white?"

Rune took his hand back and shrugged.

"Sounds like a nun would love it."

Anya: Impatiens. Not the word she was looking for; it didn't really matter, though it would bug her until she thought of it. For the florist, she had a smile and a nod.

"You're the expert, here. I trust you. I'm sure whatever you come up with will be beautiful."

She shifted her focus to Rune. "Are we just doing the one? For the table in the entryway, maybe? Or a posy for each of them?"

Rune: His expression was, for a moment, expressionless, before blooming in a sharp smile and a modest laugh.

"A posy for each sounds fine. This can be for the foyer."

Anya: Her head tipped against his for a moment. Just a quick touch.

"So," she began, looking to the florist once more, "can you do a larger arrangement, and then a few smaller bunches with the same flowers?"

Rune: "Yes, I can! Just tell me how many littles."

"Three," said Rune. His head tilted in Anya's direction. "Unless you wanna give an old priest a flower, then four."

Anya: "Four," she said, definitively. "Let the man get flowers at least once. Thank you! We'll just browse while we wait, I guess."

Rune: "Then you're giving them to him." It was about Anya, and what her presence would do for the old quiet priest on the second floor. Her presence was nothing short of lovely and refreshing. Soul healing, in fact.

"Someone out there has to know when the first human intentionally planted a flower."

Anya: If that was meant to deter her, it had no hope of working. She offered him a beatific smile. "Happy to."

It didn't matter if he chucked them as soon as they left. The meaning was in the giving. He'd feel it, anyway.

Tightening her hold on Rune's arm, she turned in a random direction and started for the nearest display. "Someone you can talk to, maybe. Unless there's someone old enough to remember. I think someone figured out how to plant a seed way before we knew how to write the process down."

Rune: "A demon or angel, maybe. The angel would say they're the first. A wraith probably knows but that's a travel. Maybe a vampire, but one that old probably isn't in the talking mood."

His voice was just low enough, and the music just loud enough not to harbor concern.

Anya: Anya wasn't eager enough for an answer to his question to go hunting down a demon. Not after her last encounter. Which had also been her first. An angel sounded like a better idea.

"What?" she asked, matching his pitch. They were close enough that it wasn't hard to hear him. "Are older vampires less talkative, or something?"

Rune: "Oh, yeah. What, you haven't met one?" Rune smirked, squeezing her arm.

Anya: Green eyes rolled at him, playfully. "Nope. Haven't been introduced. I'm pretty sure that's your fault."

She rubbed the silken petal of a tulip between her fingers as they passed.

"There's so much to remember. I should be writing this all down."

Rune: "You don't have to remember anything. In fact, you could forget, if you wanted to. I'd understand." But he had a feeling the notion would be taken offensively.

"Are there piwonie in here?"

Anya: "I want to remember everything." And there wasn't so much as a hint of doubt in her tone. He should have known who he was dealing with.

"Piwonie." She grinned at his use of the Polish name. "That's very good."

They'd discussed the flower only the day before, but it still warmed her that he'd remembered.

"Hm. Ah! In that bucket, there." She nodded toward a table on the other side of the little shop. She wasted no time tugging him in that direction.

"Which color do you like best?"

Rune: That was one of the most romantic declarations she could give, and one that poked a fine needle in his heart.

There was only one thing to do other than tell her a truth, and that was to delay said truth and pluck a green peony from the bucket.

"The nuns can't have all the flowers."

Anya: She stepped close enough to bury her nose in soft petals, that little fern curl smile tugging at her lips.

"I agree. That's why I asked which color you like best."

Rune: "Mm, this color," he insisted. "It's yours." But he had a feeling that the answer wouldn't satisfy, so he looked toward the neighboring bucket for a dusty pink sister.

Anya: Coincidentally, being near enough to smell the flowers also meant being near enough to let her lips graze his cheek. Gentle fingers collected each of the blossoms he held, grabbing a handful more of both colors until she'd formed a small posy of green and pink.

"There. That's pretty. Now, we need a little vase."

Rune: Every day, relentlessly whittling at his defenses. Passively chipping and chipping, with the same confidence given in every aspect of her daily life.

The audacity.

A vase for the Hillkate flat, one he would look at and think of her. Then it had to be green... that modest green glass with a sheer black bow on the shelf would do nicely.

Anya: Green. The selection alone was enough to make her smile. She collected it from him and made her way to the front with their bonus haul. They'd have a time trying to carry all of their flowers home, but they'd manage.

Rune: Rune would pay in cash, gathering bouquet after bouquet in his arms with only the intent of carrying more than his guest. She, of course, could haul her personal batch of peonies.

"Fair warning, you're going to have your face touched. Her sight is no better than a straw."

Anya: She'd relieve him of as many as he would allow, taking particular care not to crush the peonies. The walk back to his building wouldn't be a long one.

"That's fine. It's just a face." Anya would let the woman 'see' her in whatever way worked for her. "Anything else I should know?"

Rune: "Hmm." No one was going to lock the doors trying to convert her. Not this decade. But what else was worth a warning? An actual warning...

"They'll want to pray with you."

Anya: "I pray," she reminded him. Generally in Hebrew and not to Jesus Christ, but G-d was the same, no?

"And I don't reject people wanting to pray for me, anyway. I appreciate it."

Rune: Rune could only nod, retracing his steps from the very day they had met. He had prayed in front of her before, never told her what she had to believe, but hadn't felt comfortable worshiping in her presence. Never wanted her to feel a shred of questioning or unwarranted shame. He didn't care what faith she had, so long as she had been raised lovingly, and not forced against her will.

"A nun passed away recently. Absolute rock. I don't think that woman ever smiled. Underneath her frown was a sense of humor. Whether someone said they were atheist, Buddhist, or Presbyterian, it was always. 'It's ok, we all make mistakes.'"

Anya: Her head tipped back with her answering laugh, the sound bright and open in the early morning quiet. She was quick to bite down on the sound as it bounced off of the sleepy buildings. The neighborhood really was a peaceful one.

"I think I would have liked her. It's a shame I won't get to meet her."

For Anya, religion and culture were irrevocably enmeshed. She was a Jew as much by blood as she was by faith.

"We don't really... proselytize. But I've never minded hearing about other people's faiths. It's interesting to hear what's similar and what's different."

As long as there was mutual respect. She wasn't above giving a pushy asshole a piece of her mind. Or her fist.

Rune: He felt as though he'd told this story before. That sense of déjà vu followed their relationship like a restless spirit, and he began wondering if he had known her in some past life. Perhaps another reason for their amicability.

Back through the iron gate, glancing at the windows above them before pulling at the double door.

"Sisters first, or Mr. 204?"

Anya: "Mm. Let's start here and work our way up, in order."

That seemed less complicated than bouncing up and down, particularly if they were going to pick up the groceries in a reasonable amount of time. She beamed at him before making her way to the nearest door.

"Want me to knock?"

Anya was carrying less than he was. She shifted her burden to one arm and raised her fist. She'd give a polite rap at his go-ahead, and step out of the way so his was the first face seen.

Rune: "Go ahead." She had become comfortable, even here. There would never come a day when this woman was less than loved.

But there was no answer from apartment 101. It was the door to 103 that opened. A tall, hunched woman in gray and white poked her head out, squinting as though her life depended on it.

"Sister Bernadette is seeing the doctor."

Rune looked to the door and back. "Why isn't he-"

"Dashed if I know. Come, have some tea. Bring your friend."

"Sister Francis," Rune whispered, heading in the direction of her slowly closing door.

Anya: The silence that followed her knock had her smile tightening with worry. 101. That's where he mentioned his favorite nun living, right? Just the day before? She hoped the trip to the doctor was a simple wellness check. But one never really knew, where the elderly were concerned.

Anya willed herself to soften, the slight tension easing out of her face and shoulders as she followed behind Rune toward the other flat.

She gave only a silent nod of acknowledgement at his words. She'd allow their hostess to address her, before speaking.

Rune: The odor of incense and black tea wafted into the hallway. The delicate sound of bossa nova jazz greeted them in the brief entryway. The flat was scantly decorated. A cross over her mantel, a gold frame of Saint Adela in between her windows. A blue kettle steamed on the weathered stove.

"These flowers are for you, Sister."

"Are they really?" The bouquet was scrutinized behind glasses. Her dull eyes quickly brightened. "These... These look familiar."

But her gaze was soon captured by the woman at his side.

"Are you going to introduce me to this flower?"

"This one's called an Anya. Sturdy petals. From Poland."

"A pretty wildflower. Come here. Let me shake your hand."

Anya: The Sister's unit was very nearly as sparse as Rune's. But Anya's eyes drifted to each of the little details, in turn. The incense and soft jazz spoke to the woman's personality as well.

Her smile bloomed sunshine warm, cheeks pinking at the gentle compliment. She hastened forward to take the older woman's hand in her callused one.

"It's very nice to meet you, Sister. The flowers are from a painting that Rune showed me. Or, as close as we could get."

Rune: Paper-thin skin wrapped around delicate bones, but both hands cool and gentle, gave a loving squeeze.

"Oh! The one in my hallway, is it? Mm, mhm. It's very good. Yes. Let's find a vase and brighten their day." Anya was put to work, pointing at one of the white cabinets in her kitchen. "In there, I think. And what are those?" The batch of green and pink scrutinuzed.

Anya: Anya nodded her agreement, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, once she'd reclaimed her hand.

"I thought it was beautiful. Such lovely colors."

She was more than happy to lend her hands, setting the rest of her burden aside, for a moment . It felt good to busy herself with pulling down a suitable vase for the Sister's little bunch of flowers. She filled it with cold water and tipped in the packet of plant food that had come with the blossoms. Practiced fingers set to arranging them in a flattering style. There was also the matter of the larger bouquet to contend with...

"Oh, those? Those are for unit three-o-three. They should brighten the place up a little. Would you be willing to spare a bigger vase, for a little while? We got some for the foyer, too."

Rune: Rune smiled to himself. He wanted to excuse himself to the hallway for a cigarette, but there was no way he could escape Sister Francis now. He could feel her dull eyes upon his back.

"I have mason jars," she gestured again to the cabinet. "We can cut the stems shorter. Should do fine. I have more than I need."

"You haven't made preserves in years."

"Two, Mr. Rune. It's been two years."

Anya: "Mm. I can make that work."

When she was satisfied with her arrangement, she set it off to one side and made for the cabinet again.

"Do you have shears, or something?" She asked, grabbing for the largest bouquet. "What kinds of preserves did you make?"

Rune: "Strawberry rhubarb. Raspberry. Anything I could get my hands on. But these hands aren't much good for anything anymore but brushing my hair and my teeth. Wilting. Just wilting like a flower, I am."

A pair of gray and green sheers were pulled from her junk drawer, as well as a box of matches, taken from her as she waddled towards a cluster of yellow candles.

"You don't look a day over 70."

"You hush your mouth."

Anya: Tempted to offer her own hands for the Sister's use, it was fear that stilled her tongue. Not of the nun, no. Of the stove that was involved in canning of any sort.

Anya merely smiled at the exchange between Sister Francis and Rune, taking the shears with an appreciative dip of her head.

"Thank you." She snipped ends from the stems of the largest bouquet with swift, brutal efficiency. The process wouldn't take her long.

Rune: Rune set to work lighting the candles of various sizes, tallest to shortest. Sister Francis looked from one guest to the other, retreating with a sigh to her favorite chair, discolored from many hours of constant use.

At least she could crochet while she scowled.

"Why do you know this man?"

Anya: She eyed those candles warily for only a moment, quickly dropping her gaze back to the task at hand.

"He just... fell out of nowhere , one day," she laughed, quietly. That was truer than the woman probably knew.

"And he kept coming back. I decided I liked him."

Rune: "He does that, doesn't he? Fall out of thin air. As if from nowhere, but maybe Heaven."

Nun and exorcist exchanged looks.

"She knows what I am. What I do."

Her brows shot high, looking at Anya with new albeit same dull eyes.

Anya: "I do now," she clarified, separating flowers and discarded stems into neat piles.

"I didn't when we first met. I thought he was like me. A mutant, I mean." She gave a half shrug.

Rune: "Another of God's miracles."

Her comment, so casual, made Rune look in Anya's direction.

"I can speak confidently of one."

Anya: Rune's words had her face heating. She bit down on her cheek in vain effort to fight a smile, absently tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"I've never thought of it that way. Maybe you're right. I always did consider it a gift. Not everyone feels the same."

Another shrug, as she snipped away.

Rune: "People thought the earth was the center of the universe. Didn't make it so. A miracle is a miracle even if no one sees it."

Neither could Rune keep his smile to himself, but he did keep his distance, leaving himself as a barrier between Anya and the candles.

"There was a time in my life I would have told you I was cursed."

Anya: "Mm. I agree. I think I like that way of looking at it." She just might share the concept with her friends at the community center. Possibly.

"You? Mr. Luck?" she asked with raised eyebrows, scooping up discarded stems and tossing them into the trash. She'd fill the second 'vase' the same as the first, and begin arranging the trimmed flowers.

Anya did know of one curse. The one he'd only just shared with her. But she wasn't going to mention that, not knowing how much Sister Francis knew.

Rune: "Mr. Luck," he echoed. The rocking chair by the fireplace was pulled to the center of the room. Making himself at home where he'd been standing. Their hostess thought nothing of his peculiarities. Anya was the only one standing, now.

But he'd seen the way she eyed the flames.

His hands were soon given purpose. The end of Sister Francis' crocheted blanket tossed in his lap.

"You're not the only one in this room that's had to practice."

"Oh, yes, this mutant business. What is it exactly you do?"

Anya: "Mutant business." The phrase made her chuckle. She lifted a wrist to her mouth to muffle the sound, a marigold pinched between her fingers.

Her gaze shifted briefly to Rune. It soothed something inside her to see him so at ease here. Her smile softened, eyes falling back to her task.

"It's, hm, a kind of telepathy. Limited to non-human animals. You probably won't be surprised to hear that I'm a veterinarian."

Rune: "Animals?" An inch of work later, she continued. "Do they speak words? Sentences? We give them funny voices, but I've always assumed it's just urges. Their language being yips and hisses, you can translate that?"

Anya: "Mm. Not words, no. Not usually. Depends on the sapience of the animal. It's mostly feelings. Impulses, images, memories. I can understand them, and help them to understand me. I can soothe them. And control them, technically. Maybe... compel is a better word."

She looked up to catch Rune's eye, head tilting to one side. "Compel?"

Rune: Rune caught her glance and held it, looking away only to consider. "Mm... compel. You only boss me around," he smirked.

Anya: She contemplated chucking one of the marigolds at his head, but fitted it into the jar instead.

"Only sometimes," she lied, fighting a laugh.

It took her less time to finish the second arrangement, having the first as a reference. Sneaky fingers unwound the bow from their bouquet of peonies to tie around the mason jar, instead. Her smile was pure satisfaction as she set the arrangement aside.

"There." With a deep inhale, she grabbed the first. "Where do you want these, Sister? On the table here? Maybe by a window?"

Rune: Sister Francis squinted at the bouquet. Not a scrutiny, but the everyday struggle to see through eyes past their prime.

"The window," she instructed. "They should enjoy some sun in their final days, don't you think?"

Rune remained quiet and flabbergasted. He couldn't seem to wipe the smile from his face. Not a curse or lunacy, but certainly unusual. The old nun wasn't blind to his mirth, either.

"Do you play games?" she asked. "I can't find a soul willing to play backgammon."

"It's so boring, Sister."

"You're just ruthless and drag the games!"

Anya: "I do," she agreed with a nod, turning a sunny smile on the nun and making her way to the nearest window. She was careful in placing the arrangement on the sill, and stepped back to admire her handiwork. Well done.

"I love games. But I have to confess that I've never played backgammon before. I'm happy to learn."

Rune: "Next time, next time. You'll see her again."

And there her brow rose, turning all of her attention on the exorcist. There his shoulders tightened, and her crochet blanket was tossed back in her lap as he stood.

"You're not the only face we're seeing today. Enjoy your flowers. You'll be playing chess with Sister Bernadette before nightfall."

Anya: Fully prepared to sit through an impromptu lesson, Anya stopped short at Rune's words. Her own brows rose along with the sister's. But she only bit down on her lip and nodded.

"Of course she will," Anya agreed. "And we can play whatever game you'd like."

For now, she would take to collecting all of the flowers they'd set aside.

"It was so nice to meet you, Sister Francis."

Rune: The nun remained seated, lips thin. This conversation wasn't over. It has only just begun and he knew it. He'd said too much and now his least favorite neighbor would have words.

But for now, she raised a hand farewell.

"Be good, be safe."

Anya: "Yes, ma'am," would be her parting words. For once, she'd allow Rune to take the door, as her arms were well occupied.

Rune: Through the door they went, shut behind Anya's parting figure. Their shared peonies were taken with a sigh.

"If we played games we wouldn't see the rest of daylight. We've got 204 and... tickets to see your mother to sort."

Anya: "I get it," she shrugged, crossing the foyer to set the large arrangement on the entrance table. It did its job to brighten the space and she smiled.

"But I'm pretty sure you're in trouble." Only teasing, her grin said. "Let's go, then. Tickets won't be a problem. I just need to talk to my parents. There's no way that I can go home and not see them."

Rune: "Ahh," he waved off her teasing, managing an earnest smile, albeit brief.

"It'll be a miracle for me." But, he'd leave it at that, for now, unless prodded for an explanation.

"So, 204?"

Anya: "A miracle?" she asked, looking at him as she started for the stairs.

"Mhm. If that's where's next, with Sister Bernadette gone. We'll have to make sure she gets hers, when she's home."

Rune: "Mm... mhm." Half a flight of stairs later, "I've never used my ID to fly."

Anya: "Because you've never flown? IDs are kinda mandatory."

Rune: "Told you, I know people. People like me, we take ships, or buy a porter's favor."

Anya: "I'm not judging. We can do one of those, if you want. We don't have to fly. But a ship would take time. I'd need to work out a schedule."

Rune: He shook his head, taking the steps slower than he normally would for the sake of conversation. "I paid top dollar for the lie. It should work."

Anya: "If you get caught at Customs and deported, I'll visit you."

She battled a smile for a moment, before her expression sobered.

"Your coat will have to be run through an X-ray machine. It's not going to set off any alarms, is it?"

Rune: A moment of consideration, lips thinning, he shook his head. "It'll stay behind. I can pick it up when we land. Just a regular Joe Schmoe."

Anya: "Stay behind?" She was horrified by the very thought and her face hid none of it. "This is feeling like too much. It's too much, Rune. We don't have to go. Or we can go later. Or I can go by myself. She only has to see me, right?"

Rune: "You're worried for my coat?" he chuckled, though it wasn't but a moment later he softened. "Your mother needs you, An. I'm going with you."

Anya: "I am."

Worried for him, more accurately. Without it for however long this journey took them. Less time than if they went by boat, she supposed. Her fingers ached to take his, but she settled for pressing her lips to his cheek.

"Fine. You're the most stubborn person I've ever met, you know."

Rune: "Funny, I can say the same for you. What was that kiss for?" He could still feel her lips against his skin. Everything about her was still fresh on his mind, and there she was, still before him. She was determined to steal his breath once a day from here on.

"I'll have my ID checked before we get tickets."

But for now, room 204 was just feet away. The sound of sports commentators shouting on the other side the only sound of life. It was Rune who knocked this time.

"Open up, kid."

Wood planks groaned. The sound of leather and metal springs. Footsteps. The door opened, and the end of a metal cane poked through, jabbing at Rune's hip.

"I only have minutes to live. What do you want?"

Anya: "Yeah, but the difference is, you would be lying," she grinned. "Do I need a reason?"

Anya certainly didn't think so. Love was the answer. As always.

She turned her smile toward the shut door, waiting just to one side as they listened to the shuffling from inside the flat. The old man's words had her chuckling in an instant.

She stepped closer to be seen over Rune's shoulder, her smile sunny.

"Sounds like we got here just in time, then."

Rune: The man was caught off guard. Sister Bernadette was the eldest nun, but 204 was the frailest-looking of them all. The years had not been kind to his posture. If not for his cane, a strong wind would likely blow him away.

"What's - Who's this?"

"This is Anya, Liam. Be nice."

"Oh." The priest took a step back, fixing the stringy wisps of brown hair from his forehead. Had to be presentable for a lady.

"A pretty stranger isn't an answer. What do you want?"

"A hello, for starters. She's brought you a little something."

Anya: Her smile softened at his quick grooming, and at the compliment, however unintended. She'd offer the first greeting, stepping closer with a small dip of her head.

"Hi! It's nice to meet you. We brought flowers." She lifted the bundles in her arms pointedly.

"Just a little something to brighten your day," she explained.

Rune: Liam looked from the bouquet to the Anya woman and back. As flabbergasted as Rune expected him to be. This wasn't how things were done. Not for so many men.

"I... uh... I have a uh... this is for me?"

"Yes, it's for you, kid. Get outta the way. We'll put it on a table."

More shuffling, opening the door wider for the two of them.

"Well, you already bought em. Put em anywhere."

Anya: "Mhm." His bewilderment came as no surprise. Anya took it in stride, her smile only warming as she stepped past him and into the flat.

She eyed the layout, gaze locking on the kitchen.

"Do you have a jar, maybe? A glass is fine. Just so they can have a little water."

Rune: "I um, a mug. Yeah, the stein. That thing with the lid."

Rune gestured back to the still-rocking recliner. "Go on, sit back down. What are you listening to?"

"NBA. What else do I listen to?"

"Soccer, golf, baseball, fucking cricket."

"Don't cuss under my roof."

"Yeah, fine. Sit down. How's your foot?"

"The devil take it."

Rune's lips thinned, doing his damnedest to swallow a barking laugh. "Ah, kid. Want a drink?"

"I've got a bottle on over there. Bring it."

Anya: "Oh, that'll be nice." Her head bobbed in approval, and she set to work. It soothed her to have busy hands while the two men talked.

She filled and arranged, humming softly to herself. She was only half listening to the exchange.

Rune: "Who the - When did you get a Stanley?"

The two continued their exchange, glances from both men to the gently humming beauty across the modest flat.

"In all my years-"

"Don't start. I'll hear enough from Francis."

"Miss. Miss, come here. Come here, please."

Anya: Anya glanced up from the half-finished arrangement, a rose twirling idly between her fingers. She stuck it swiftly into the lidded mug and crossed swiftly to where Liam sat.

"Yes?"

Rune: Rune stood and stepped back with a sigh, hand sliding down his face, already exhausted. Liam turned in his chair, legs propped and arms resting on each cushion. For a beat he stared, from her eyes to her hair to her clothing.

At last, dry lips parted.

"Are you lost? Blink - Blink twice if you're captive."

"Oh, shut up."

Anya: The once-over was expected. Anya wouldn't wilt under the scrutiny, her posture straight but not stiff. Easy confidence.

His words, on the other hand, caught her completely off guard. She laughed, sharp and sudden, her body tipping forward with the force of it. She brought a hand to her mouth far too late to stifle the sound.

"Oh, I like you. I like him, Rune." She aimed that broad, toothy grin in his direction before turning back to Liam.

"No worries, sir. I'm here happily and of my own free will. If anything, I'm holding him captive. Made him buy flowers and everything. Poor man. You should pity him."

Rune: Her pleasure made the old priest's day. His expression was every bit smug when he turned back to Rune.

There wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. He'd known Liam since he was a freckled bratty child. He knew what that look meant. There would be gloating in his future.

"Are his flowers finished? I'm done with him."

"Hold him captive more often. This is hilarious."

Anya: "Nope." Her lips popped pleasantly on the 'P'. She found herself firmly in cahoots with the priest at her dear exorcist's expense. Her smile couldn't possibly wane as she meandered back toward the table and her flowers.

"And don't rush me, either. These things take time."

She winked at the elderly man as she picked up a marigold.

"Don't worry. He's stuck with me."

Rune: "Why are you all conspiring against me," was completely rhetorical. He knew the answer; as plain as the nose on his face. The answer was too surreal, belonging to some other fortunate spirit.

His gaze returned to her, and he sighed.

"Nice something sticks," said Liam, twisting his crooked spine for the magazine that had fallen.

"I've been here for years. What more do you want?"

Liam just smiled, opening the New York Times with a papery snap.

Anya: Anya only shook her head. Conspiring? She would never!

The grin that refused to wane said otherwise as she tucked the flower into the mug and grabbed another.

It was too easy to fall back into the routine of the task. With two under her belt, it was simply a matter of recreation. She was back to humming absently for the handful of minutes it took her to finish.

Crossing the room with the bouquet in hand, she set it on the coffee table with a final adjusting of stems.

"There. Thank you, for taking these off of my hands."

Rune: Unlike Sister Francis, there were no other seats in Liam's apartment. A single chair at the small square table pressed against the kitchen counter. An unplugged TV decades past its prime. A bare room with a cross and a picture of Mother Mary over the fireplace. A room too similar to Rune's.

The exorcist meandered his way to the kitchen, hovering where he knew he wasn't needed. Eventually leaning on his elbows as he watched in loving silence.

Liam leaned forward in his seat, squinting at his gift.

"Yes, those are nice. That's nice of you. God bless you."

Anya: She waved a hand, smile soft.

The flat was small, and nearly as spartan as Rune's. Anya decided she wanted to check in on him again, someday soon.

For now, she looked to the exorcist and back.

"We'll let you get back to your game. This was fun," she said. She meant it earnestly.

Rune: It didn't seem he believed her words, but shrugged nonetheless. She was a kind soul. There was no doubt about that.

"We'll be seeing you again?"

Not this again. If there was something he could throw that wouldn't make the glass man crumble...

"Yes, Liam. You'll be seeing her again."

The same raised brows. The same damn look.

Anya: "Soon," she assured, gathering up the blossoms that remained once more. For Rune's sake, she did her best to swallow a laugh at the old priest's expression.

"Great meeting you."

Rune: Three bouquets out of their hands. Liam's sight was too weak to see Rune holding her fingers before the door closed.

"Goodbye, dear."

He could breathe easier in the hallway.

"That's enough socializing for today."

Anya: Anya's laugh was soft enough for only him to hear, grip tightening on his hand as she made her way toward the stairs and the sole flat on the top floor.

"That wasn't nearly as much as yesterday. It's not even lunchtime."

But it wasn't a protest. She was always happy to have him to herself.

"I still have to pick up the groceries, but we can figure out plane tickets first."

Rune: That laugh like sweet nectar. Her energy was contagious; everyone, save one, now knew his dirty little secret.

She was the first woman, the first anyone, he had ever brought to their doorstep; she was the first anyone with a name, with history, the first anyone who would be as constant as themselves.

How thrilling, how stupid, how dangerous.

Because before her, there was death. There was Aoi, there was Enoch, there was Arthur, there was Maximus. There was death and insanity.

Walking through the door, he couldn't bring himself to let her go.

"How about... if you get groceries, I can see to my ID. We'll go from there."

Anya: "Solid plan," she agreed, dipping her head once. If he wanted to keep her hand, he could have it.

Anya tugged him toward his tiny kitchen. His neighbors would not be the only ones to have their flats brightened.

She left the missing nun's flowers on the counter, and set to filling the little, green vase. Priorities.

"They should be ready, by now. I'll check in a minute."

Rune: Her hand was finally released for the sake of work. The one and only chair was dragged to the other side of the table, its back facing the kitchen and straddled.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Anya: There would be no feigning ignorance. Her smile spoke for itself.

"Of course I am."

A packet of food for the peonies as well, tipped into the vase before reverent fingers began rearranging the stems.

"I like this place. I like your neighbors. I love you. What's not to enjoy?"

Rune: One gentle attack after the other. To say she loved him so casually. Such confident audacity.

His elbow rested on the back of the chair, him chin in hand.

"Mm." He had nothing to say. He just wanted to admire her for a beat, before getting back to reality.

Anya: "Mm," she echoed, stifling a laugh at his silence.

There wasn't much to be done where their personal bouquet was concerned. Anya needed to ensure a tasteful arrangement of green and pink before she sought out a place to display them.

The desk beside the bedroom window would do nicely. Fingertips brushed Rune's cheek as she passed. Gone for mere seconds, she returned with empty hands.

"I'll head out. Shouldn't take me long."

Rune: Rune leaned into her hand. His eyes closed in her absence, just existing until the sound of her voice forced them open. He was tired. It had little to do with sleep and everything to do with peace.

"Don't get into trouble." A simple request in this neighborhood. He would not move until she was beyond the door and down the hallway. Just two phone calls is all it would take. One to a phone number leading straight to voicemail. The next required patience. Waiting for the responding call and the voice of a woman on the other line. Yes, everything was up to date. So long as he allowed himself to age relative to the information on his papers, he had nothing to concern himself with for another 40 or 50 years.

So long as he allowed himself to age. He still didn't like it.

Coffee. He needed coffee and a cigarette, and his favorite wall to stare at until Anya's return.

Anya: "Promise, promise." She couldn't imagine stumbling into trouble, here. Perhaps if she went looking, but that was stress that neither of them needed.

Without Rune at her side to hold her hand and make pleasant conversation, Anya was all swift efficiency. She made the walk quickly, and was only slowed slightly by a chat with the grocer and her burden on the way home.

The shut door gave her pause. She didn't suspect that he'd locked it behind her, but she raised a fist to knock, anyway.

Rune: Gentle rapping jarred him from his taciturn mind. He sucked the last of his cigarette down, thumbing out the butt in the ashtray on his tiny dining table. The last of the smoke escaped from his lips as he opened the door, waving away the burden from Anya's face.

"You already know your way around."

Anya: Her nose wrinkled at the smell of smoke. It was an instinctive reaction that she didn't follow up with a comment.

"Basically," she shrugged, slipping past him and straight to the little kitchen. He could protest if he pleased, but she was cleaning out his fridge before anything new made its way home.

"I had my mobile, and it wasn't far." Bags deposited onto the counter, she set to work.

"The lady running the store was so sweet. She gave us a little box of peaches that are supposed to be amazing. I'd never heard of them. Did you sort out your passport?"

Rune: The door was shut behind her. Only then was it locked. As much as he wanted to reach for another cigarette, he dumped the ashes into the trash instead, glancing over his shoulder at the old food being banished from his shelves.

"Mm. I have a whole identity, just mine, for another 40 years, at least. So, passports, driver's license - just another human being."

Anya: "I'm not convinced. You're still an impossible man."

Her head shook, her smile crooked. She tossed an apple that had seen better days into the bin and reached for an old takeout container.

"Where do you get a set of fake documents, anyway? You don't drive. Is there an underground magic counterfeiter? Or just a... regular guy?"

Rune: "You really want to know?"

The fridge door was opened wider. He might as well help if she was going to play house with him.

Play house... hardly play. She had. She was.

"A whole intricate network. Vampires influence outcomes; people with an organization called the Technocracy. We all have our means. We wouldn't survive this technological world we live in otherwise. It's why so many have just... not come back from the Umbra."

Anya: "Yes." A simple answer. She was curious, rather than struck with an intense desire to commit fraud. Just another window into his life.

They could work twice as quickly with two sets of hands. Anya shifted to make room for him.

"Mm. Makes sense. They track everything, these days. It sounds complicated. And being stuck in the Umbra sounds terrifying. From what you've told me about it, anyway."

She inhaled deeply and released the breath on a sigh. "I guess we'll find out how good they are soon."

Rune: "Stuck. Yeah, some. Some don't want to come back. There's whole cities out there no sleeper has ever laid eyes on. Places I haven't even been. Doesn't help those of us that stick around. If they were all here, I imagine the world wouldn't be so... constricted."

Anya: "Whole cities," she echoed, shock flitting across her features. Everything she learned about that impossible place somehow painted a picture that was both a little clearer and a little more obscure.

She dampened a paper towel to give the shelves a quick wipe.

"Constricted?"

Rune: The rest of the groceries now waited on Anya's cleaning. So he took to the counter, hands resting between his knees.

"Consensual reality. The more of theirs the less of ours."

Anya: "Mm. Right." Another towel, this one to dry.

"So, does that mean the Umbra is like a magical free-for-all?"

Rune: "Ha!" He was staring at her now. How surreal. "I don't know how to answer that," he admitted. "There are different realms, and what you can do in those realms differs. The realm with cities, I've never been. Some places are harder to find than others. Easier to live. I usually get stuck in the same three."

Anya: His laugh caught her off guard. She poked her head out of the fridge long enough to glance at him. Then just as quickly back to her wipe down.

"Not a place, then. Lots of places stitched together, without the convenience of a map. Do you think anybody's ever tried? To map it out, I mean? Or maybe it changes... like the forest in that one movie..."

A thoughtful hum as she tossed the used towels. She was satisfied enough with the quick job, and began unpacking paper bags.

Rune: "Mm. People probably have. Scholars, someone. It spans forward and out, up and down. I've seen the sky full of rings and too many moons. Places without a sky at all. Where I've been," he voice trailed. "I've been lucky." His smile was measured.

"Are you done cleaning my kitchen?"

Anya: He'd seen a lot. It made sense. Impossible man that he was.

"Of course you have."

That much was never a surprise. She slotted herself between his legs, a jar of almond butter in one hand.

"For now. Which cabinet is mine, then?" she asked, giving the jar a pointed little shake.

Rune: His smile was unique to her. Their little secret. His legs opened without word. Hands on either side of the counter. Not touching her took conscious thought.

"That one," he nodded, not taking his eyes off her. "Or surprise me."

Anya: "Hmmm. I think I like this one better."

She reached for the handle just beside his head. It was a transparent excuse to step closer, pulling the door open as she did.

Her chest pressed to his as she leaned to slide the jar onto the shelf just over his shoulder.

"You don't mind, do you? That's not your favorite cabinet, or something, is it?"

Rune: Her scent was so inviting, beckoning him closer. Her heat felt through their clothes. That coy little smile, that mischief in her eyes. Intoxicating. The woman had a PHD in bringing him back from the brink.

"I'll let it slide," he smirked. "For a price."

Anya: A silent huff of a laugh stirred the air between them. She'd yet to step away, despite her empty hands. She met his dark eyes unflinchingly.

"Name it."

Rune: At last his hands came to life. Both reaching for her hair. Fingers lost in the depths of her heavenly curls.

He could ask for just about anything. A kiss, a confession, her hair off her shoulders, her mouth on his neck. She could make such demands of him, too. He wondered when it was she could have, realizing it was well beyond the day at the park.

"Do whatever it is you really wanna do. Right now. Don't think."

Anya: That was simple enough. Hardly a price at all. No thinking. They'd discussed something similar before, hadn't they? Years ago.

Her hands came to rest on his thighs, and she claimed his lips without another word.

Rune: What a blessing. His eyes closed, sighing out every ounce of stress that had begun accumulating in his shoulders. What a privilege.

He wanted to bottle this moment and relive it in desperate times.

"Tickets." A word finally uttered in between tiny kisses to subdue his passion.

Anya: Fingertips dug into the flesh of his thighs, and slid up, exploratory, to settle at his waist. Her mouth didn't leave his, even as he uttered that single word. She caught his lower lip with her teeth.

"What? Do you think they're going to sell out?" she mumbled, and gripped the fabric of his jacket. Ridiculous.

But she did need to phone her parents before she finalized anything. That thought was enough to cool even the most blazing heat.

"Ok." She stole a final kiss and shifted a hand to rest gently on his cheek. "Ok."

There wasn't too much food to put away. She'd step out of the bracket of his legs to deal with the rest of it.

Rune: Dangerous were those hands on his waist, making him feel delightfully vulnerable and small. He wondered if her telepathy had crossed the animal-human barrier. She knew him, perhaps more than she realized. So effortless to submit to her whims, he wondered if she had always perceived his true color.

There would be no swift rescue for her hair, cradled in both fists. He smiled into her quipping.

"Tickets before I slip my fingers somewhere distracting. Work before play."

He could dissuade her only because it wasn't forever.

"I'll do the rest. What time is it in...?"

Anya: Mouth twitching at his teasing promise, Anya was tempted to raise a protest. Like with the cleaning, putting things away would go faster with four hands. But he'd be no help to her on her call. The quicker both of them were finished, the sooner he could explain exactly which distracting places his fingers itched to wander.

"Ok," she repeated, digging her mobile out of her bag. "Świebodzin. Or close to there, anyway."

The population of the village where she'd grown up could probably fit into two blocks, in Brooklyn.

"Annnnd iiiiiit's... almost five PM. I'm not interrupting anything."

One more kiss, simply because she could, and she slipped out of the kitchen to shuck off her boots and stretch out onto his sofa with her phone.

Rune: If he chased her lips this time he would surely fall off the counter. There were groceries to sort, and other randoms to tidy while she consulted her family. He expected no mention of himself. Neither a secret nor a priority in this regard. Just another lost soul. A job. It was tidy.

Tidier than his kitchen. The last item placed in the door of his fridge, he began meandering the house looking for discarded items of clothing.

Anya: Anya had no concern for how much of the conversation Rune understood. She had nothing to hide. Not from him.

A change of heart was the explanation she'd give. Which wasn't a lie, really. She'd be home for Passover after all. The time off of work had already been scheduled, and she needed the time between now and then to sort out care for her animals for longer than a day or two, anyway.

She ended the call with a promise to offer more details when she had them. Her chest ached with the force of her inhale as she heaved a massive sigh. She didn't budge from her place on the couch, only pulled up her browser to begin the hunt for tickets.

Rune: Rune couldn't recall the last time he had cleaned his house. Any house. He hadn't seen his other haven in years. For some inexplicable reason, the Umbra didn't often spit him out on the west coast. He assumed after so many years it was the realms he frequented. That he couldn't change. Wouldn't.

By the time her phone call ended, he was in the bathroom wiping down surfaces and gathering the last of his laundry.

"I understood two words," he said proudly, squeezing her foot as he crossed the room.

Anya: She laughed, giving her foot a little wiggle when he released it.

"Good job. We'll have to practice, before we go. We're leaving end of the month."

Provided she could find suitable tickets. She was deep in a silent debate between a non-stop flight and extra legroom, but glanced up to watch Rune move through the flat.

"Are you doing laundry?"

Rune: End of the month. The urge to say her mother wasn't going anywhere tickled his tongue, but he refused. She already knew that.

"Yes. I'm thoroughly ashamed of my flat," he deadpanned. "I'm going down to the basement. Pray for me."

Anya: "Harva berkot lech, ahuvi." She wouldn't bother offering a translation from the Hebrew blessing, but her mouth curved into a crooked, knowing smile.

"I'm happy to offer my hands."

Rune: "Your hands can be on any part of my body while I start the washer," he smirked.

Anya: "Not what I meant." But did that stop her from sitting up with a groan? Not at all.

She smoothed a hand over mussed curls as she stood, the other still clutching her mobile.

"Take me to your basement, then."

After a beat, she repeated the phrase in Polish. "Crash course."

Rune: Rune stared at the ceiling as he tried to remember his basic lessons. It hadn't been that long since their last conversation, yet on the spot required a think.

"Piwnica," he sounded out.

All the way back down the stairs to the end of the hall on the first floor. To the small unassuming white door leading down a final set of stairs with massive storage on either side of the room. Twelve individual storage units caged in floor-to-ceiling chain link. Two washers and two dryers filled the space at the end of the room.

"Pralka i suszarka," he muttered as he worked.

Anya: Not exactly the coziest of spaces, but they wouldn't be down there for long. A slow curl of a smile bowed her lips at his continued practice.

Slender arms wrapped him in an embrace from behind, cheek resting on his shoulder, mindful of the hands that loaded the washing machine. She'd been given carte blanche to touch, after all.

"To było idealne." Her voice was low, just loud enough for him to hear. She went on, more quickly than she usually did.

"Co jeśli przez resztę dnia będę mówił tylko po polsku? Czy nadążysz?"

Rune: His smile was a private affair. Not a cleared throat or pause as the last sock was tossed in. But when she started in with a natural pace, he couldn't help but look over his shoulder. His eyes narrowed playfully.

"Niegrzeczny. Wszystkiego, co chcę powiedzieć, nie potrafię powiedzieć po polsku." Much slower, much more careful, and not perfectly pronounced, but there was effort.

Anya: The sound that left her could only be described as a giggle, soft and bubbling. Her arms tightened around his middle. She was as biased as ever where his progress was concerned. Perfectly perfect.

"Szkoda," she sighed, not sounding the least bit apologetic. She turned her head just so to press her lips to the hinge of his jaw. "Będziecie musieli znaleźć inny sposób komunikacji."

Still not as slowly as she usually spoke with him. The challenge was clear.

Rune: "You want me to - " His lips folded in on themselves, flat and thin. Points docked from his test. The balm of her lips was a consolation prize.

"Kiedy byłem - hmm." No. "Dawno temu... tarka. No. Dammit." He laughed at himself. "Washboard? Please."

Anya: Anya joined in his laughter, soft though hers was. She nuzzled the place her lips had been, breathing in mint and pine.

"Tak. Traka. Like... grater, but it works. Ale można powiedzieć deska do prania. Albo deska myjąca. Używałeś takiego jako dziecko?"

Rune: Rune squinted at the washing machine. Suddenly English was ridiculously easy, and yet somehow he could not read the words revolving around the dials. What was the phrase? It was all Greek to him.

"...Tak. Uh, zagotuj wodę. Wrzątek? Shit."

Anya: Her smile was equal parts delighted and amused. She took mercy on him, unwrapping him from hold and taking his place in front of the washer.

But with the change in position something needed to be rectified. She reached back for his hands to settle them onto her own hips.

"Where's your detergent?" she asked, peering into the washer to double check the color of his clothing. She twisted the dial and started the water.

Rune: He needed little encouragement to move, nor any such push to have his hands upon her. Those hands wouldn't linger on her hips for long, migrating across her ribs to her breasts, back down over her stomach, and around to her back. Permission was a two-way street. They were just as alone here as they would be in his apartment.

"Wire shelf. My hands are full."

Anya: She offered a soft hum of approval at his wandering hands. She suspected that there were no cameras in such a place.

A soft scoff answered him as she grabbed a bottle from the shelf. "Mhmm."

A tablespoon or two of detergent into the wash and she shut the lid. "Thirty-ish minutes."

Rune: "Thirty-ish minutes," he echoed. His lips greeted the back of her neck. The collar of her shirt was tugged, allowing another kiss to her bare skin, but not so far as to stretch the stitching. He wanted it gone.

"That's an awful lot of stairs for 30 minutes."

Anya: The lips against her neck elicited another soft hum; the second kiss, just shy of scarred flesh, made her shiver.

Still, there was no tension in her muscles as she turned to face him. "I was thinking the same thing. I could just ask you to carry me up. At least then only one of us would be tired."

Her mouth barely had time to twitch into a smile before she was kissing him, fingers gripping the fabric of his olive green shirt to tug him flush against her. Such a pretty color.

Rune: Her smile brightened the dimly lit room better than the naked bulb above them. Warmth bloomed outwards from her eager hands. He needed no more encouragement to begin fussing over the buttons of his shirt.

He was a man of his word. Neither Liam nor Francis ventured beyond their front doors.

So his kisses traveled south, with all the confidence of a locked door.

"Must be tired, going down all those stairs. Sit on the washer."

Anya: Anya brushed his hands away from his shirt. There were better places for them to roam. She'd work those buttons loose herself, greedy fingers seeking skin of chest and waist.

But his lips were roaming as well, and Anya was happy to allow them. She laughed, running a hand over his hair.

"I was going to tell you to do that." A confession. She braced her hands on the still-filling washer, anyway, and hoisted herself easily atop it.

Rune: Her confession gave him pause, studying the seriousness of her expression as his hands returned to her waist. It all needed to go.

"Me? And then what?" His smile was devilish, leaving her no time to respond as his lips returned as hungry as before.

Anya: She was prepared to answer, but the words died against his lips. Their kiss muffled her laugh.

"And then," she breathed, in the space between kisses. "I'd follow you up. Of course. Eventually."

Fingers made their way to the trio of buttons that kept the front of her dress from being obscene. They popped loose in seconds, leaving her free to peel the linen off of her shoulders and down to her waist. She was grateful to have no bra to fuss with.

Rune: The feeling of her laughter against his mouth was truly something of a fairytale. The room was chilly compared to the rest of the apartment building. Paid no mind as he trailed kisses down her chest, chasing away the linen to the bitter end. His hands swept upwards over her back, lips sweet on her ribs, her breasts.

"I like you right where you are," he breathed, making himself at home between her legs.

Anya: The chill in the room went completely unnoticed, with Rune's lips and hands brushing over her skin. Her blood pumped, scorching, through her veins, leaving her plenty warm to the touch.

She laughed again, hiking the bottom half of her dress up her thighs with sharp, impatient motions.

"I'm not gonna fight you, if you're happy right here."

No, she'd help him along. Fingers hooked into the elastic waist band of her panties. She wriggled to slide them past her ass and down her calves to dangle uselessly from one ankle. Good enough. Now her hands were free to bury themselves in his hair.

Rune: As pleased as they were, they were not on the same page, and rather than disappointed, it tickled him. She wanted to climb him like a tree; he wanted nestled between her legs, fingers buried deep and mouth put to purpose.

His kisses were as impatient as she felt. Cool fingers stroked from her thighs down her calves and back. As soft as perfection and impossibly warm. Closer and closer his fingers crept to her pussy. Fingertips exploring hair and lips.

But he was hungry, and needy, and selfish.

"Feet on the washer, or my shoulders."

Anya: His fingers on private, sensitive skin still sent tingles up her spine. She wondered if there would ever come a time when that wouldn't be the case.

Anya was slow to acquiesce to his command, taking his face in both of her hands to drink him in for a long, indulgent moment. Long enough for the washer to begin in earnest. It rumbled into its wash cycle. When she'd had her fill, she settled back on her elbows, sliding first one long leg and then the other over his shoulders.

"Yeah, all right."

Rune: The warmth of her tongue damn near melted the man she cradled. Her mouth was an invitation he was helpless to accept. A soft little noise escaped his throat, then a smile between the affection. This was as wrong as it was incredible.

Her efforts were rewarded with a kiss on her leg and another as he watched her. His fingers slowly spread her apart, exposing her to the air. From the hood of her clit his thumb circled, creating a gentle and frustrating rhythm.

Anya: Frustration was certainly one word for it.

Rune's little sounds would be her undoing. She craved more of them. But for him, she could be patient, mouth curving into that small, familiar fern curl of a smile as his lips pressed to her leg.

She could be mostly patient, anyway. A hand slipped between her spread thighs to join his, the other still braced against churning washer. Her palm flattened over the back of his hand. Demanding. Silently seeking the pressure he denied her.

Rune: He laughed at her determination. That was exactly where he wanted her to be. His thumb applied the pressure she desired, still back and forth as playful fingers explored her opening. No different than the night before, he didn't care if they went beyond this; to see her a writhing mess on the washing machine added years to his life without a single staked bet.

Anya: Writhe she would, her hips rocking in time with the stroking of his thumb. Her eagerness was all physical drive. She wasn't really in a hurry. They had time. Time before the machine ceased its incessant rumbling. Time before the day ended and she was compelled to return to the care and keeping of her animals. Hours and hours.

Her hand guided his fingers where she wanted them, buried in soft, welcoming heat.

Rune: With two fingers buried deep, he searched for that one motion that would elicit the perfect noise. Once found, he would be merciless, and offer his mouth to her clit, just to make matters worse. He hadn't considered how much he would come to love the weight of her legs on his shoulders until now.

Anya: The relentless crooking of his fingers left her panting, but it was the heat of his tongue that would take her apart completely. That demanding hand between her legs moved to bury itself in Rune's hair, instead. Impulse swung between loving strokes and ruthless gripping. She'd give into both, in turn. Alternating until the pressure built past the point that she could bear. His name was a soft cry on her lips as she came. And she was quick to seek the taste of herself on his tongue, again.

Rune: He would not dare tell her to hush. Would not slow his relentless pursuit of her ascension until that familiar writhing became a plea for mercy. Only then did his hand slack, greeting her hungry mouth with his tongue and another beloved little noise.

As high as she had risen, he fell with her. Too close to her mind, he felt the same floating elation like a warm bath. Forehead to forehead, he breathed with her, and then took his fingers to his mouth.

Anya: Something in Rune's breathlessness tickled her. That her pleasure had impacted him so. She brushed a thumb over his cheek that was pure, undiluted affection. His fingers moved to taste her and she laughed, soft and inaudible over the washer. How she loved him.

Pushing herself up, she slid her legs from his shoulder, one after the other. She took his face in her hands, again, peppering every square inch with tiny kisses. When she was satisfied that she hadn't missed a spot, she slid from the rumbling machine to her feet, giving it a deliberate pat behind her as she stepped to one side. Up you get.

Rune: It was her diet, he was certain. As certain as his bias. She tasted sweet and pleasant. If he could do that every day...

Her unique affection caught him off guard. It was so wholesome; he didn't know what to do with it but exist.

From one surprise to the next. He looked from the machine to her with a curious brow.

So, up he went, chest exposed and finally feeling the air now goosefleshing his skin. Or was it her, mostly naked and perfect? It didn't matter.

Anya: She chewed on a smile at his bemused expression, but offered no answers. Not aloud. Once he was settled, she gave him an explanation without words, gripping the back of his neck to tug him forward for a heated kiss.

Her free hand's greedy fingers traced down his chest, over his waist, to settle on his belt. She'd handle it and his fly with a single hand, unwilling to release him long enough to use both. Nor would she relinquish his lips as she reached into opened trousers to stroke him, thumb sweeping over the head of his cock.

Rune: Her smile reminded him of the peonies upstairs. The playful blooming energy she carried at any given moment, in every random and purposeful instance, even here, in a basement in Brooklyn, between his legs, grasping him with ownership. He gave no protest. She could have his mouth and his throbbing cock with only a whimper - a noise he was aware of, but would not apologize for.

Anya: She giggled against his lips, delighted by a new little noise. She was inspired to tease out every one in his arsenal. In time.

For now, she was eager to take him into her mouth; the only reason she was willing to break their kiss.

Rune: He was fighting a smile now. Smiling during a kiss felt awkward and silly, but it was her fault. The urge to ask why she was laughing was hard fought. He knew why, even if he didn't want to admit it.

But articulation was a lost cause. Her mouth ceased all coherent thought. Slowly, his elbows met the washer lid, his head heavy, lulled back between his shoulders.

Anya: Anya made herself at home between his legs, looking up at him through dark lashes. She lamented not being able to see his eyes. But they weren't her only window.

There were the sounds he made as her mouth worked lazily over his cock, the rise and fall of his chest, the throbbing she could feel against her tongue .

Sudden silence from the machine beneath him made her freeze, even the hand that cupped him stilling. It was only a breathless handful of seconds before the water clicked on. Rinse cycle. Of course.

She huffed a silent laugh through her nose and pulled free of his cock with a faint pop.

"Mm. Help me up."

Rune: Breathing took conscious effort. Caught up in the warmth of her wet mouth, he wanted to freeze time and space to enjoy her a moment longer. Just five more minutes of -

His laugh wasn't as quiet. He covered his mouth and tried not to snort.

"Why did you freeze?" he whispered. And why was he whispering?

Sitting back up, rather than help, he hindered, bringing her to his mouth with both hands. Just long enough to have her taste on his tongue. Only then would he bring his arm around her.

Anya: His laugh had her stifling another. It was positively criminal for any grown man to be so cute. She had no clue why he was whispering. Likely for the same reason she'd gone still. When she lowered her voice to match his, the decision was unconscious.

"It was too quiet!"

Too still. They were alone, but outside the safety of his flat.

When his lips pressed to hers, she did nothing to resist them. He could have that kiss and another besides, before she braced against him and hoisted herself onto his lap. She trusted that arm to keep her steady.

Rune: Steady she was, held firmly by the small of her waist. Eventually he leaned away to breathe. Just an inhale before he made himself at home on her chest. Kisses to every bit of exposed skin. Tasting his way south as he pulled her that much closer.

"You're too quiet," he grinned.

Anya: She bit down hard on her own smile, silently relishing the lips that skated over her skin. His touch was intoxicating.

"You're the one who started whispering," she countered, still whispering. Her thumb brushed reverently over the dimple in his cheek.

The hesitation of yesterday was gone. Knees planted on either side of his thighs, she asked for no additional permission. She raised just enough to guide him inside, sinking onto his cock with a soft groan and catching his mouth again.

Rune: "It's more fun," he confessed, his laughter silent, and then ceased altogether with one deliberate movement of her hips. She needn't ask for authority she already possessed. The honest to Heaven's truth was, that she'd had such permission for longer than they were willing to admit. He knew why he had kept her at a distance, but staring into her eyes, he realized it had been a wasted effort.

She was as stubborn as she was resilient. But would that be enough? Would his cursed luck spare her?

His mind demanded logic, the one thing his body didn't give a shit about. Rough fingers rested on her ass, riding every roll of her hips. His fingers lost in her hair. His mouth belonged to her. He had nothing to say. There was nothing to say. Only an unspoken plea between them with every panted breath.

Anya: Anya was tireless. Each drag of his cock drove her onward, lost to the pleasure of his touch.

It was contact she returned in earnest, fingers mapping every inch of bare skin she could reach. Thumbs pressed to the tender bruises she'd left the night prior. Lingering evidence of her presence.

She could live in this moment for an eternity, but the physical world was an insurmountable hurdle. Climax was inevitable, and it came with a gasp against his mouth. The sound spilled into a breathless little laugh, but she wouldn't surrender those lips. Not yet. Just a little while longer.

Rune: His pleasure was secondary to watching her move. The feeling of his cock encapsulated in her confines was undermined by the warmth of her skin, her hair, the sounds swelling her chest; the feeling of being used. To see her so disheveled, raw, needy, aching, playful, was almost too overwhelming.

This was flesh, not marble, and she was real, tangible, and in that moment, breathing with her as one, he was obsessed with her. The way she moved, both deliberately and incautious. He could only kiss her so much.

"Anya." It was a warning he didn't expect her to heed. From a habit he had yet to shake, despite the damage long ago inflicted. Again, he breathed her name into her mouth, cradling her as he pulsed within, giving and giving until he had nothing left but to slump his cheek between her breasts.

Anya: She was no more concerned than she had been the first time. If there was any silver lining to the vicious harm done to him, it was living without that one worry. Hardly a consolation, but it was something.

With a deep sigh, she lowered her cheek to press to the top of his head. Her arms were a warm vice around him; fingers traced figure eights over the perfect skin of his back. She was happy to simply exist with him in blissful silence.

For a time, anyway.

"I have a confession," she began, tone still hushed, a hand moving to toy with the hair at his nape. "I didn't buy the tickets, yet. I was looking, but then we were doing laundry..."

He would feel, rather than hear, her chuckle. "New favorite chore, by the way."

Rune: "Hm?"

Listening to her breathe, the beat of her quickened heart, he could have fallen asleep then and there, certainly to send them toppling to the concrete floor.

"Don't say that," he smiled against her chest. "Laundry day will be every day."

What a blessing. He had to lean back and look at her. Every inch of exposed skin admired with reverence.

Anya: All but naked and perched in his lap, but it was that look that had her face heating. She tipped her head back to stare up at the ceiling, a little overwhelmed by his open admiration. Just a moment to collect herself. She struggled to put a dimmer on her smile. But she was meeting his gaze again soon enough, pink cheeks be damned.

"We'll run out of dirty clothes." Fingers smoothed the mussed strands of his hair. Hers certainly looked even wilder. "We just have to make all the other housework fun. Obviously."

The spin cycle had begun at some point without her noticing. She wasn't budging until it had run its course.

Rune: How could she blush after what they had done, and what was he doing that startled her senses to look at the ceiling for reprieve? Surely, it wasn't his wandering gaze. His traveling fingers shaped and massaged each breast, sliding between them and across her ribs. If he were a blind man, he would know beauty by touch.

"Obviously. Washing dishes is about to be a whole lot of fun."

Carefully, he laid back against the washing machine, dials digging into his back, but he didn't care.

"Come here."

Anya: His touch carved the same path that his gaze had; she only just managed to suppress a pleased shiver. "And very messy, I think."

With an amused little huff, she folded forward, settling against the chest he offered. Her face made a home in the crook of his neck. "You can't be comfortable."

Rune: "We'll be as clean as the dishes." His voice had taken on something whimsical. Eyes closed and face peaceful. He would be of no use to her for the next five minutes.

"I haven't been this comfortable in a long time," he countered.

Anya: "If you say so." She wasn't convinced. But she would ensure that he was warm, if nothing else. Strong, slender arms snaked around his waist, her body shielding him from the worst of the basement's chill. Soft lips pressed to the throat she was still burrowed against.

They could sink into this moment of tranquility. Anya wouldn't disturb it until the machine fell silent and still beneath them.

"Mm. We have to move."

Rune: "Do we?" So soft, as though talking in his sleep. "A bath is calling us." To sink into warm water and just exist. That was motivation enough to force his eyes open.

"Mm, fuck." His eyes closed long enough to rub them. For just a moment, a second, he had forgotten her unkempt state, struck again by her magnificence. Only after recovering did he realize he was still inside of her. Parting was such sweet sorrow.

"I'll - Forgot what I was gonna say."

Anya: "Ja." Atop a washing machine was no place for good sleep. A warm tub, on the other hand...

"Mhmmm. Much better for your nap."

Rune could take as much time as he needed to rouse himself. Anya stole a few slow, lazy kisses before she was willing to peel herself away from him.

A bath really did sound perfect.

Straightening and stretching, she let the chill spur her into movement. She'd have to be efficient to avoid making even more of a mess of herself. "Well, let me know if you remember."

With a laugh, she slid off of him and down from the washer. She located the panties that had slipped free of her ankle and pulled them on with swift, easy grace. The linen dress was a hopeless case, but she buttoned herself into the bodice and smoothed the skirt down past her thighs as best she could. Rough fingers raked through her curls. Another lost cause, she feared. But when she'd done all she could to look less... post-coital, she raised her arms for inspection. They likely wouldn't be spotted on the trip upstairs, but it was certainly possible.

"Am I decent?"

Rune: A bath was the most obvious answer, he didn't stop to think if it had been her idea first or his own. It didn't matter, but he enjoyed those moments when he couldn't tell if a suggestion was independent. The idea of having her so intimately, beyond that of just their bodies - he was apprehensive, and still... warmed by the very thought.

He was ruined. He could hear the seconds ticking loudly in his good ear; time until a cruel joke infected their relationship.

He would do well to quiet his mind, lest he offer what she didn't deserve to hear. Soon she was joined upright. Feet on the concrete, the basement might as well have been constructed of ice.

"Like the first spring day in Amsterdam."

Clothes were moved into the dryer, before starting the trek upstairs.

Anya: The words had her smiling. A simple 'yes' or 'no' would have sufficed. Leave it to Rune to make even the most mundane of answers poetic.

"That's pretty," was all she offered in return, taking another pass over her hair as Rune came down after her. She'd offer hands to help, if allowed, but otherwise was content to wait in comfortable silence for him to finish.

It was silence that held until the door to his flat shut behind them. She was quick to head for the couch and the phone she'd abandoned there. She unlocked it with a press of her thumb and cut to the kitchen blindly. How she had committed the paths of the flat to memory already was beyond her.

"You can run the water, this time," she sighed, grabbing a peach to rinse as she scrolled through flight options. "So I won't boil you alive, again."

Rune: He hadn't expected her to say anything in return. Not a compliment or a recognition. His words had been as much a flirtation as they were harmless teasing. It was as much trust as everything else, forward of their confessions. She was beautiful, and she would always be beautiful, but her hair needed fingers through it.

Fingers brushed her arm as they crossed paths. Mug of water in hand, he started the bathwater and stripped. Whatever hesitation had existed before had become a forgotten memory. She was as at home with his nudity as he was hers. This was her home. This was their peace. While she finalized their tickets, Rune sank into the warm bath with a sigh, slipping beneath the water until his lungs burned or he heard her approach.

Anya: It would be a handful of minutes before she joined him in the bathroom, still dressed, licking sticky juice from her fingers. She leaned her hip against the sink and watched him unabashedly.

"Almost done. I just need to know what birth year you put on those fake papers."

Rune: Rune resurfaced when her shape appeared above the water. His hair pulled from his face as he listened through the water in his ears.

"Wallet's in my coat. The outside pocket."

Anya: "Outside pocket," she repeated, already slipping away to find it. "You should probably commit that lie to memory."

Anya would, if he didn't. Just to be safe. A minute or two more passed before she returned, having left both her mobile and her dress behind. She was working her hair into a quick bun as she entered.

"We leave on the twenty first."

Rune: Was he 27, or 31? He had forgotten what the lie was, as he so often did, having little need for the ID to begin with. All that mattered were the years he won during poker.

Anya would return to the water being partially refilled with warmer water. He sat in the middle of the tub. Her choice whether he was a pillow, or she was.

"Twenty-first," he echoed, ever the sailor.

Anya: Once her hair was up and out of the way, she stepped out of her panties and slid into the water behind him. He was more than welcome to use her chest as support for his nap. Her head tipped back against the lip of the tub and she sighed. Not as steamy as she normally liked a bath, but certainly warm enough for a nice soak.

"Mhm. I couldn't find any that were nonstop. So, we'll spend a few hours in Amsterdam. And then from there to Poznań, and a train into town. It's a lot of travel, but we can get a room somewhere before the last leg, if you want."

Rune: Slowly, he laid back, arm spilling out over the side. He stared at their feet, brow arched and unseen.

"Amsterdam, hm?" Surely, that was on purpose. He wouldn't put it past her. Just something she did and would speak nothing of it. He counted the years since he'd been home to that green door. It wasn't green anymore. Someone had painted it a lifetime ago.

"Whatever you need."

Anya: "It was either there or Munich, and the layover was longer in Germany." But to say that it was only timing that had tipped the scales in one direction would taste a lie. He could read whatever he liked into that decision.

Fingers raked gently through dripping hair, her nails the lightest scrape over his scalp. Whatever she needed. She would not insist to the contrary. Only hum noncommittally as she stared up at the ceiling. "We'll figure the rest out, later. Close your eyes."

Rune: He was already there. Eyes heavy and breathing languid. His full weight rested against her, wrapped in warmth and confident his world would remain upright. The last thought of his drifting consciousness was her, how well she knew him. Her generosity seemed like an endless well.

She would be here. He would be here. There was still much to do, and for as long as she allowed him in her life, there would always be something to do.

#private beach #anya #rune #sicklysweetnothings #discord rp #closed

2 notes · View notes