|Leanan sídhe (requitedly) wrote in nevermore_logs,|
@ 2012-03-13 03:07:00
|Entry tags:||leanan sidhe, wilhelm grimm|
WHO: Wilhelm and Leanne
WHEN: Sunday afternoon
WHERE: Leanne's apartment
WHAT: a dawning realisation (Originally posted by Wil)
Wilhelm looked up at Leanne's apartment, waiting until he got his breath back before he rang the doorbell. He bent at the waist, hands on his ribs as he breathed through his nose, attempting not to cough. When had walking from the subway to Leanne's apartment been so draining? He didn't remember it being that far. Maybe it was the headache he felt, making it worse. The time between visits was getting shorter.
When he had pulled himself together, he pressed his thumb against the doorbell, then went up when the door opened. She was expecting him. He took the stairs carefully though, straightening himself as he got to the top, forcing himself to smile and ignore the rattly feeling in his chest.
"Good afternoon. I brought you some cake."
Leanne opened the door wide, a smile affixed to her face. She was clad in a red bra and knickers, which only accentuated her crimson hair. "Wil," she said, her voice warm and inviting. "Cake! You perfect man, come in."
She knew he was suffering and she knew she was making it worse, but that only meant he was under her thrall. He was where she needed him to be. If it went on much longer, however, she just might break him and at the moment her was her favourite toy. She might need to find someone else to play with on the side in order for this to continue.
"Is today a social visit," she asked, closing the door behind him.
Wil glanced at Leanne, one brow raised at that comment. "As always," he replied, placing the cake on the bench. He hadn't made it, of course. He'd just grabbed it from a bakery so he didn't arrive empty-handed. He'd only thought of a bottle of wine when he'd already got the cake.
Leanne walked up behind Wil and she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. "And it's always good to see you," she said as she reached out with her powers and took a little of his essence from him. It made her feel heady and swoony and giddy.
Leanne, as usual, was practically glowing with health. Will felt a slight stab of pain in his lungs as she hugged him, and he wondered what the state of him was like if he was squished so easily. "You look radiant," he said, turning around and kissing her. A little bit of the buzz came with that, making him feel marginally better. "You're always dressed so well."
A smirk passed Leanne's lips and she looked up at him, leaning in to kiss his chin. "It's all for you," she said softly. "Have you been spending your time away from me creating?"
Wil couldn't help but smile back. "Yes, so many things." He felt tired though, so he moved to the sofa and sat down, pulling his coat around him. The coat was warm and woolen and covered up his skinny frame. "Some I couldn't write down. They were too vivid." He'd spent two hours staring at the wall, watching his ideas play out in his head. His dreams were like waking.
She moved beside him, sliding onto the sofa and leaning her body against him. "It's beautiful, you know? The way your mind works." She reached up to run her fingers through his hair and she look a little more of his essence into her.
Wil leaned into her, closing his eyes at her touch. She was so calming. He couldn't help but yawn and relax against her.
"Tell me a story," he said, looking at her through shadowed eyes.
"Isn't that your job?" she said with a chuckle. "I am nowhere as creative as you, but I do know a story about a young writer. He needed a bit of help, you see. He had so many ideas but he wasn't entirely sure how to get them out. He had no one to support him and help him. No one to love him, and that was his tragedy." She smiled at Wil and ran her fingers through his curls.
"But luck was on his side and he ran into a beautiful woman one day while he was strolling through a forest, waiting to be inspired. The woman found the writer beautiful and she didn't want him to walk away from her so she turned to walk with him and as she did, they talked. It turned out he needed her and she needed him and they fell in love."
Wil smiled a little at her. "Then what?" he asked, aware she was alluding to himself. There was something niggling at the back of his mind about it though, that he couldn't quite place. He had a vague recollection, a memory of a memory, of telling a story that sounded similar to children that were his own, long since lost. Who was the child now?
"She was his muse," Leanne carried on. "His inspiration. Suddenly he could write, and write he did. He became famous and the two of them toured the world together. Because they needed each other, you see. He needed a muse and she needed someone to inspire. Without each other, they surely would have perished."
Wil looked up at Leanne. Her fingers in his hair felt good, soothing and comforting. "It's funny how two people can work so well together," he said, trying to ignore the niggle.
"Just means they were destined to find each other," she said with a soft smile at him. "And they did. Do you want to sleep, my love?"