WiP Whenever
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It’s almost close to four in the morning when John makes it back to the ranch from his impromptu meeting with the other heralds. The plan he had formulated just hours earlier had been a success and after hours of patrolling the farm, his chosen, alongside Jacob’s, took a hold of Kellet's for themselves. Blood had been shed, as was to be expected, but after the other day, Mr. Kellet and his farm hands needed a lesson in decorum and this was his way of teaching them.
As he creeps quietly inside his bedroom, he spots Charlene in his bed, sound asleep and curled up in the fetal position; her freckled skin bathing in the moonlight. The patient and respectful part of him tells himself to let her sleep. After many nights of nightmares and restless sleep, she deserves this peaceful slumber.
The other side of him disagrees. And unfortunately for her, John cannot control himself. His desire to tell her everything that happened tonight bit by bit coupled with his need for something more… intimate wins out in the end.
Shedding his clothes, the Baptist hurriedly climbs into bed beside the sleeping woman, his hand reaching out to rest upon the soft exposed skin of her belly. “Are you awake?,” he whispers in her ear; his voice more husky and urgent than he anticipated.
“You’re home,” she mumbles as she backs into him, involuntarily snuggling into his hold.
John perks up at the way she calls his ranch “home”, a smile beginning to tug at his lips. “Did you really think I would leave you here alone all night? Especially after some of my men had a confrontation out at the Kellet farm?”
His words bring her to attention. Rolling onto her side, she gazes up at him, olive eyes bleary. “What happened at the Kellet’s? I thought you took care of that.” She pauses, chewing on her lip. “Legally.”
John finds her charming like this, brunette waves tousled and her normally high-pitched Montanan accent roughened by sleep. He reminds himself to wake her up more often.
“You’re right, I did. But you see, old Mr. Kellet couldn’t keep his mouth shut and I think we both know there’s just some things I cannot abide by.”
Charlie fiddles with the key to his bunker contemplatively, wrapping the silver chain around her fingers. “Did you kill him?,” she asks, harkening back to that night on the stairs when she asked a similar question.
Unlike then, John has a different response. “Yes,” is all he can say, blue eyes scanning her features in an attempt to gauge her reaction.
Her face remains composed as she leans back into the blue silk sheets, her hand that’s caught in his necklace pulling him down with her. “Okay,” she finally replies after what feels like ages. “Thank you for being honest with me. That means something.”
Leaning up, Charlie places a soft and gentle kiss to his lips, her free hand moving to comb through his dark locks. John can’t help but let his tongue coax her mouth open, letting it lazily glide against hers.
She whines at the contact before pulling away to rest her forehead against his, green eyes fluttering shut. “John,” she whispers ever-so-softly.
“Yes, Charlene?”
“Did you wake me up to talk to me or to fuck me?”
John falters for a brief moment. He was hoping his little wake up call would come off as a sweet gesture, one that she might even find charming. With a deep sigh, he absentmindedly brushes back the stray waves falling over her eyes.
“I was ideally aiming for both.”
“That’s what I thought.”
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“You were well liked,” Hubert says as he hands Eremiya a pin that states plainly ‘likable individual’. “Your cooperation during this study was greatly appreciated. Thank you.”
“As for closing notes, it appears that some of your partners wish to speak with you again. One noted that you are pleasant in conversation, agreeable, and understand the importance of cleanliness.”
HOW UNFORTUNATE. upon being approached, eremiya had begun her retreat and, thus, was forced to withstand a few more moments in the dining hall. with squinting eyes and pursed lips, she mustered the remaining bits of courtesy to respond.
"wonderful," she said, quiet and strained, "there is no need to thank me. i signed myself into the event and, thus, would have to cooperate as necessary..." but still, she acknowledged the appreciation. the pin was taken, gently, and regarded with little interest. not for what it read, no, because she honestly could not read whatever was scribbled on it; the exhaustion blurring her gaze proved all attempts futile.
instead of trying, the bishop kept her focus on hubert's face. "ah. sir duessel." a kind man, truly. within her, she hoped to meet him again, someway darker, where she could truly provide the topic of interest her full, undivided attention. a shame that light despised her so.
"i give my hopes to... to the shadow dragon that those who wish it may meet me again."
and, with that, eremiya turned around and moved to the side of the assigned knight, ducking beneath the cloth that was held over her as they left.
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