RP Log: Rodolphus and Bellatrix.
Who: Rodolphus and Bellatrix Where: Their house, their bedroom, &c. When: Later, 28 October. What: Bella and Dolph have their first exchange. Rating: Surprisingly G for these two.
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Stirring from the grip of a Dreamless Sleep potion was never Bellatrix's favourite pasttime, the weight of dreams seemed to cling to her limbs tenaciously, willing her back into the depths of unconsciousness so that she would finally succumb to their subconscious will. But she knew that she could not avoid her loss forever (there was, also, a great deal of information she required - was he dead?) and her way was to face adversity head on. She was Cygnus Black's daughter: no man, living or dead, frightened her.
Eyelids fluttering, hands grasping, she made to rise (at least propped upon pillows, she hated being on her back - vulnerable) and gritted her teeth against the protest of her battered body. She swayed briefly, met the stability of pillows with a headboard, and was still. If there was anyone in the room (would he have left?), they would surely be alerted to her conscious state.
From just beyond her periphery - behind her periphery - was a twitch of movement and a comfortingly(?) normal sort of voice; though laden with exhaustion and now annoyance, Rodolphus's inflection held nothing of the emotions that had earlier threatened to break his innermost barriers.
"Stop that this instant."
A heavy, warm, and rather possessive hand came down over the top of her head, and Rodolphus brooked no refusals. She was not sitting up any further; "you're held together by string and well wishes, woman; behave yourself this once." He had to feed her medicine, but he wasn't quite ready to move away from the bedside - where he'd been looming, in Antonin's words, waiting for a breath to stop or a moan of pain.
"Mmmhmph," was supposed to be a curse, but she did as she was told and sank into the pillows rather gladly. So he did stay. He sounded as though he were teetering on the brink of exhaustion.
With a narrow squint, she turned as little as possible to fix her gaze upon Rodolphus with something akin to relief. It was his face that had bid her, so often in the midst of her unconscious haze, to remain stoic and not slip further into an inviting blackness.
He paused a moment, palm resting over haphazardly strewn hair, almost - or attempting to be, perhaps - affectionate. Straight on, he looked more haggard than he sounded, for hunger and stress and tiredness could not properly inflict themselves upon so immutable a thing as Rodolphus's voice; but his eyes, his cheeks, his set jaw were treacherous evidence of his concern, his upset, though he said and revealed nothing.
In the next, he was moving up and away, retrieving blue bottles in silence before settling back in at his wife's side. "I will assume you feel dreadful and that the normal pleasantries of conversation will be tedious." Too-large hands measured out the medicine, and though he was quite certain Bellatrix's ego wouldn't permit it, he attempted to feed her the potions anyway. "Just tell me how you will feel."
"Like I have to get something out of the way before I can go back to being normal," she said quickly, shifting her shoulder so that the palm of her hand skirted about the waistband of his trousers. Even that simple movement seemed to wind her, her hand fell heavily upon the top of his thigh. "If you're going to divorce me, do it now."
He was turned into her now, bottle in one hand, spoon in another, and at her sudden demand, he froze, looking rather comical had this been any other situation with a half filled spoon and a lightly tilted bottle. The various parts of the situation did not quite come together enough that he understood what she was getting at, and it was with a half confused, half irritated (for he did not like being confused) expression that he stared at her, blankly.
"What?"
Rolling her neck, she rested her cheek on the pillow and closed her eyes for the briefest instant. Did Antonin leave off telling Rodolphus -- Morgan's cauldron, would she have to explain it herself?
"Are you," she said slowly, "going to petition for divorce?" She could not show fear, though it leaked into the corners of her eyes, staining her pale cheeks the vaguest rose.
He was growing impatient holding the spoon, and so with a slightly irritated half-question: "No?" he pressed the medicine to her lips. "Stop being difficult."
She took her medicine willingly, more than ready to be out of bed and orchestrating her retribution (that would be swift and merciless). But Rodolphus got silence, for his presence was comfort enough and she supposed that it answered her question.
He worked his way through the various bottles of medicine Antonin had laid out, one by one, and wished he'd thought to get something to wash down the tastes. Tea maybe. In a minute.
After moments of silence, curiosity finally ate at him until he was forced - through no will of his own - to ask: "And this concerned you because?"
The bitter, metallic tang of the potion churned on her empty stomach but she mustered her considerable will power to force it down to stay. Her brow furrowed and she took a fistful of his shirt, levering herself inches off of the mattress by sheer force. "I am barren."
Rodolphus sighed - more in aggravation at her insistence in pushing her physical limitations than her statement. Now was not the time. Wrapping an arm around her lifted back and using another as leverage beneath her legs, he slid off his chair and insinuated himself between the mattress and his wife - no mean feat for such a large man.
"I didn't marry you for your womb, Bellatrix." He replied, flatly.
She held the tension in her limbs a beat longer, then melted into Rodolphus's body as she sighed and closed her eyes. Speech seemed, for a time, beyond her strength, and she could only hope that he felt her silent gratitude emanating from her more peaceful face.