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[Finally, Benedict moves to pour himself some wine, holding the glass between long fingers with the same lazy air that he holds wrapped about him like a blanket. He's safe in his own home with someone he trusts, he doesn't need to be alert.
It helps that he had been dozing when she arrived, and he hasn't quite forced himself to wake up properly.]
They were very boring. [He takes a slow sip of his wine, watching her over the rim of his glass, and lifts one shoulder in a languid shrug.] There are so many rules to memorize, and I hated it. But my aunt insisted, and since she runs House Lancaster...
[Benedict counts himself lucky that he is a lesser son, not in the direct line of inheritance for the Lancaster Vatteries, and is therefor not nearly as important to society as his cousin. It also helps some that he is warriorborn, and is therefor not expected to do much more with his life than perhaps to serve as his cousin's bodyguard. If he were the heir to the Lancaster fortune, he would certainly not have been able to buy himself a narrow little row house in a less affluent neighborhood and live on his own. He also wouldn't be able to entertain anyone this late at night, certainly not a girl, and certainly not a fae girl.]
[ fae society is feudal and has its own rules, too many of them for elena to know given her lack of training in that regard. it isn't so unlike the society here - and as a changeling, her own position in fae society has always been lesser. there's a reason children like her are placed in the orphanage instead of growing up with the pureblood parent. the orphanage never would let them forget it, either.
elena hasn't made her peace with that so much as she just doesn't know that there's an alternative, that she may not truly be less for being what she is. ]
I only learned about how to best kill or main.
[ granted, there had been survival training, information on how to assess a crowd or an individual, on how to find escape routes in cities and in the wild, but none of the things elena had learned were about fitting in, adhering to societal standards. all of it had been geared towards making them better killers.
[Perhaps he is also lucky that being born warriorborn is simply seen as a fault in genetics, an unfortunate blemish on an otherwise perfect family line, but not something wholly out of the ordinary. Being unfortunate is better than being abhorrent, and apart from the fact that he was never able to forget that he was different, he had a relatively normal childhood.
His parents love him, he does know that much.]
You don't have to worry about that tonight.
[Hopefully she doesn't have to worry about that at all when she's with him. He likes to think that she can relax in his company, that she can let down her guard somewhat and just enjoy sharing his space with him. He certainly enjoys sharing with her.
Since it looks like she's polished off the dumplings, he starts to stand.] Do you want anything else? I can probably find something in the icebox if you're still hungry.
[ elena used to think that she belonged in the orphanage, until sierra's revolution forced her to choose between the orphanage, her affection for sierra, and things that were unbearable for her. it's what prompted her to run, and these days, she isn't sure where she belongs, if anywhere at all. around benedict, the question seems far less pressing. he makes her feel welcome, and he might not be like her, but he's different, too. ]
I keep remembering it.
[ the food is done, but until he takes the plate, elena keeps looking at it or toying with her glass. being here keeps some of the pictures that never used to bother her at bay, but it doesn't mean she's forgotten them. ] Do you have that?
[ he was a soldier, wasn't he? he's killed, too.
at his question, she shakes her head. the dumplings were filling and warm and wonderful, and elena thinks maybe she could curl up and sleep now, her belly full even if her mind isn't fully at ease yet, no matter how much being around benedict and his perpetual calm helps her. ]
[Clearing away her plate and the steaming pot takes seconds, but he remains in the kitchen for longer than he has to so he can stare down at his hands in the sink. He's not wearing his gauntlet, since he's just lounging around his house, but the circuitry that snakes across his arm has left an indelible mark of pale flesh against the rest of his more tanned skin, so he can never forget he's worn it.
And killed with it.]
Yes. [He might have just left her plate in the sink to deal with later, but he decides to wash it now so that he can have something to do with his hands.] Not all the time, but often enough. I remember how it feels. [The buzz as the crystal in his palm drew energy, the hum of its blast vibrating through the air, the sick squelching sound of it finding a target and obliterating it in mere seconds. The smell of charred flesh and the sickly-sweet copper tang of blood. How it feels to crush someone's throat beneath your hand and watch the life drain from their face.
[ elena bows her head. she can't see him from where she's sitting, but she can hear something in his voice that's echoed by a tightness in her chest, the tension in her shoulders that hasn't entirely disappeared yet, for all that it's eased.
sharing this was supposed to make it easier. it does, because it makes her question her own struggles less, but at the same time? she regrets asking, because this is as close to pained as she's ever heard benedict, and she doesn't want him to sound like that. ]
[He rinses her plate and sets it in the rack to dry beside the one he used earlier, and wipes his hands on his shirt as he turns to face her. By the time he does, he's smiling again, although it's not quite as broad or as lazy as before, a sharpness underlying the gesture that he doesn't bother trying to hide.
They both have blood on their hands. He doesn't have to pretend here.]
Don't be. It wasn't your fault. [Benedict killed in defense of the Spire, and he's glad to have done it. It was his duty, as a guardsman, and as a resident of Spire Albion, and he doesn't regret doing it.
He regrets that it was necessary, but he doesn't regret taking action.]
[ sometimes, elena had been told that she was killing to protect coal tree, or for glory, and sometimes she'd just been expected to obey. sierra had asked her to kill as an act of friendship and loyalty, and elena had been glad to do it at the time. she wonders, sometimes, if she'd kill if benedict asked her to, as well.
the difference between him and sierra is, she thinks, that he won't ask her to. (if she did, she would.) ]
[Benedict moves back to the table to pour her some more wine, and remains standing at her side for just long enough to settle one large hand carefully on her shoulder.]
Elena. It's alright.
[His fingers press gently into her skin for a moment in what he hopes is a reassuring squeeze, and then he lets her go to return to the kitchen to put the wine away.]
Do you want to talk about it? Or would you rather we talk about something else? [Benedict doesn't necessarily want to talk about the times he's killed — hell, he didn't even tell Gwen about them, about how he was granted a medal by the Spirearch for his bravery — but if it will somehow help Elena absolve her spirit, then he's willing to rehash it all. Of course, he'd be far happier not having to do that, but if that's what she needs...]
[ a moment later, she shakes her head. the motion isn't enough to dislodge his hand — if anything, she leans into the touch. it's comforting, reassuring not just in its intention. ] I think I don't. I just. [ she hesitates, but this is benedict. she trusts him more than anyone else in this world. ]
That's why I came here tonight. Because I couldn't stop remembering.
[This time, when he returns to where she's sitting, he pulls his chair around to be closer to her so that when he sits down, their knees brush beneath the table.
He settles his hand down on her forearm, circling his fingers just above her wrist in a grip that's gentle enough that she can break free with hardly any movement at all. He's not sure how well she'll react to being grabbed like that; Elena isn't like any of the other girls he knows, who are much less...skittish. He doesn't want to upset her.]
You can tell me anything, you know that. [He hopes she knows that. He's not going to grass her up, not unless she somehow got herself involved in some terrorist plot against Spire Albion, and even then, he'd urge her to come with him to the Spirearch so she can tell him everything she knows and get protection from the guard.]
But we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I can put a film into the projector and we can just watch that, if that's what you want.
[ their knees brush, and he settles his hand on her forearm, and elena may be skittish, she may have been trained to kill, but she doesn't shy away and she doesn't try to break the circle of his fingers. instead, she turns her hand upside down, palm open, a silent invitation that she's not thinking about, because if she thinks about it, she'll worry that he won't understand or worse, that he will and won't want to react. benedict wouldn't mock her for it, but the possibility crosses her mind, too. ]
A film. [ it's confirmation. she would like to watch a movie, and maybe sit close to him and breathe in his smell and take in his calm and wrap it around herself until she feels some semblance of it as well. ]
I used to think it was what I was meant to do, that it was how I had to act, but now I know that I don't, and somehow that makes it worse? [ the words spill out unbidden after all, and she's not sure they even make sense. ]
[She turns her hand over, palm up in a clear invitation, and while Benedict is not used to holding hands with pretty girls, especially this late at night, he doesn't hesitate to slide his hand down her arm so that he can curl his hand over hers. She clearly needs the contact, and he's all too willing to provide it for her.
He has yet to mention that he'd moved the projector to his bedroom a few weeks ago, but it won't take long to move it back down here if she'd prefer not to watch sitting up in his bed.
Slowly, he drags his thumb across the side of her hand, watching her with his golden slit-pupil eyes as she speaks.] We do the best we can with what information we have. [It sounds paltry, he knows, but it's the best comfort he can offer her.] Now that you know it isn't how you have to act, you can act differently.
[ his hand finds hers, curling around it, and elena has to close her eyes when relief washes over her, relief and things she can't quite name yet but that make her shoulders ease and her chest feel less tight. it isn't absolution and it doesn't make the things she's done disappear, but — she isn't alone. ]
Thank you.
[ not even for the words, necessarily, though they fit into a picture of who she can be that benedict paints for her every time she comes to visit, unknowingly for the most part. it's a picture that elena likes a lot better than the picture the orphanage had painted, of the changeling as the ruthless killer, of the only productive outlet for her instincts. elena's instincts don't tell her to kill, these days. they tell her to run, or find a pack, to eat and to sleep and to drink and more than once, they've brought her to benedict's door, but to kill? she hasn't been threatened, and so she hasn't felt any need for it. ]
[He smiles at her and squeezes her hand, pressing his whole palm against hers like he's sealing his words into her skin.]
Of course.
[Benedict's instincts are usually good about other people, and he doesn't feel his hackles rise around Elena at all. She, of course, pings a little on the danger radar, just because of what she is, but any and all trained people ping on that radar, so he's learned to take it with a grain of salt.
What was it the Cats say about people like her? Oh yes, that they're "dangerous." With the Cats, however, that is almost a glowing endorsement. Benedict can understand why.
He smiles and squeezes her hand again before slowly pushing up to his feet.] I took the projector upstairs a few weeks ago, [he confesses, picking up his glass and inclining his head towards the narrow stairs that bring you up into his living chambers.] If you don't mind, we can watch something up there, or I can haul it back down here.
[ elena wonders sometimes, whether she could kill benedict — not whether she could bring herself to, which she doubts, but whether she could physically do it, or if he would overpower her. in a fight, which one of them would win? that kind of knowledge used to be her whole life, and shaking it is difficult, but she has no interest in fighting benedict. not when she could eat with him, sit with him and drink wine, talk or just be silent and not alone. ]
I don't mind if you don't.
[ she takes her glass as well, glancing at him before taking a step toward his stairs. ]
[He grins at her, quick and sharp, and sweeps his hand out in invitation for her to go up the stairs first.]
Less work for me to do, I don't mind at all.
[The lumin crystals slowly wink out as they pass, Benedict willing them into darkness when he no longer needs them, and soon the downstairs is pitch-black again and the only light to be found comes from his open bedroom door. The interior is plain, almost austere, but there are a few personal knick-knacks lying around that give the room a semblance of character. His sword and his gauntlet rest in the weapons rack beside his armoire, and there are some books stacked on the table beside his bed, but apart from those things and a few articles of clothing tossed haphazardly around, the room isn't much to write home about.
The projector is set up to point at the bare wall across from his bed, and all it takes is a small touch to set it whirring to life.]
Pick a film, [he says, motioning towards the stack of them beside his books.] I've seen them all, I don't mind watching any of them again.
[ there isn't much in his room, but it's more character than her own has. elena had run from the orphanage with nothing but the clothes on her back, and she hasn't acquired a great deal of things since. food, but she's eaten that. some books, second-hand. she doesn't yet have a favourite author, but she's found that she doesn't enjoy crime novels or thrillers. her past has been exciting enough. she'd rather avoid books featuring death.
the same holds, incidentally, for movies, and so she picks one that she thinks will not have any. the cover shows a dog and a cat, drawn next to each other.
somehow, that seems fitting. ] This one?
[ elena holds out the film to him and looks at the bed, then back at benedict — but he'd already said that she can sleep in it, and it's the only place to sit in this room, so she doesn't wait for his confirmation before settling down on it, curling her legs underneath her body. ]
Perfect. [He barely even looks at the cover before he slides it onto the reels, but that's not important.
What's important is making sure that she feels comfortable.
The film starts to whirr to life, and since she's taken the bed without asking any questions, Benedict doesn't really hesitate to join her. As an afterthought, he leans across to turn off the lumin crystal beside the bed, which means he has to lean over her. A murmured apology is all she'll get, though, because the film has started, and he shifts to settle back against the headboard, their shoulders touching.]
[ when he leans over her, elena sits very still and does not shiver. she barely breathes. it isn't a sense of discomfort, though, and when he settles against the headboard, their shoulders touching, elena shifts her weight just a little so that she can see the screen better. if it puts her closer to benedict, that's a positive side effect and not at all what she intended — though she can't fool herself into thinking that she doesn't want to be as close as possible to him, that she doesn't crave as much touch as he'll give her.
part of her wishes they were still holding hands. instead of reaching for his, she curls hers together in her lap and settles in to watch the movie. her assessment that animation and animals meant something lighthearted doesn't prove to be wholly accurate, but she gets sucked into the story almost immediately. ]
[Benedict is aware that Elena freezes when he leans over her, but he's not sure what that means, if she's alarmed by his proximity, of if she likes it. Either way, she doesn't pull away from him, and lets him settle himself down right up against her without complains. In fact, she even shifts eventually to be closer to him, although he's not sure if that was her original goal or just a side effect of her shifting her weight.
Either way, he doesn't mind the proximity. He rather likes it, actually, having her warmth press against his side, and it's not fifteen minutes in to the film that he finds his eyelids drooping. For a while, he fights the urge to drift off to sleep, but the urge is too strong to ignore for long, and he finds himself slowly slipping into a light doze.
Quietly, so low that human ears might not even pick up on it, he starts to purr, the sound vibrating deep in his chest.]
[ there's a moment of confusion for elena when he starts purring. if she were in wolf form, her ears would be pricking up. purring is outside of everything that she's used to. it's clearly not a threat, though, and benedict is as relaxed as she's ever seen him, eyes closed and breathing deep. elena stays still, not wanting to disturb him, and before long, she finds her breathing matching his, and even though she herself can't purr and feels no inclination to, something between satisfaction and contentedness is spreading through her, too.
he trusts her, doesn't he? he wouldn't have dozed off if he didn't, and while elena isn't sure it's wise to trust someone who's been taught to be a killer all their life, it makes her want to be worthy of that trust. it makes her think that maybe, she can be.
the movie isn't over yet when elena closes her eyes, too, carefully settling more comfortably against benedict's side and the headboard. mostly against his side, admittedly. he's warm. ]
[He's more or less asleep when Elena shifts against him, but Benedict has honed that wonderful ability to cat-nap (admittedly helped along by his biology) through years of being constantly on call with the Guard, so even though he's not fully awake, he's not so deeply asleep that he's unaware of what's going on around him. It's just that her shifting to lean more firmly against him isn't viewed as a threat by him, so all he does is let out a slightly louder purring sigh, and shift against her in turn to be more comfortable.
The movie is a muted whirl of lights through his eyelids, the sound enough to make his ears twitch, but all he's really focused on at the moment is the warmth of Elena against his side, the pressure of her body against his and the hint that her head might fall to his shoulder any moment.
Eventually, the film finishes and the projector whirrs to a stop, the lumin crystal that had been sending the picture across the room quietly dimming until it fades into darkness, and Benedict lets himself drift properly to sleep to the sound of Elena's slow and steady breathing.
When he wakes, he's not sitting up in bed, but has instead slid down to curl up in the center of it, his blankets and pillows arranged around him like a nest. This in and of itself is not unusual, he can be a restless sleeper and has often woken up in a position he didn't start in, but what is unusual is the fact that he's not alone in bed. Even more unusual than that, however, is that he's somehow managed to tuck Elena right up against him, her head nestled beneath his chin and her hair tangled across his face, a few strands caught in his lips, an arm flung over her body and their legs tangled together.
It's alarming, and if he were less in control of his body, he might tense up and pull away without thinking, but all Benedict does is blink himself awake and shift slightly to make sure that nothing untoward happened that he had somehow managed to forget about.]
[ elena rarely sleeps deeply enough to lose the ability to wake up at the slightest hint of danger, but next to benedict, she knows that she's safe on an instinctual level that goes beyond her comprehension or awareness. she doesn't notice when his arm settles across her body, doesn't notice when they both curl deeper into the pillows and blankets and each other. she doesn't notice when he wakes up, either, or not at first.
eventually, the shift in his breathing wakes her, too. she's warm and she's comfortable and the weight of his arm against her body doesn't register as threatening, more grounding than restrictive. their positions do come as a surprise, but it's so close to what she imagines sleeping with a pack is like that it prompts a smile, and she tips her head back to let him see it without thinking. ]
[Benedict had been a little nervous (or a lot nervous, actually) as to what Elena's reaction would be when she woke up to discover them curled up like puppies in a basket.
She's always been skittish when it came to being close to people, even Benedict, and he would have felt terrible if he somehow managed to upset her without even realizing he'd done it because he'd been asleep. He likes her, for all that she's a little odd, and he doesn't want to upset her. He wants her to like him, too.
Based on the smile she gives him when she wakes up enough to pull back to look at him, he doesn't have to worry about that.]
Good morning. [He lifts his arm off her so he can pull her hair out of his mouth, laughing sheepishly.] Sorry. I can be a little clingy when I sleep, apparently.
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It helps that he had been dozing when she arrived, and he hasn't quite forced himself to wake up properly.]
They were very boring. [He takes a slow sip of his wine, watching her over the rim of his glass, and lifts one shoulder in a languid shrug.] There are so many rules to memorize, and I hated it. But my aunt insisted, and since she runs House Lancaster...
[Benedict counts himself lucky that he is a lesser son, not in the direct line of inheritance for the Lancaster Vatteries, and is therefor not nearly as important to society as his cousin. It also helps some that he is warriorborn, and is therefor not expected to do much more with his life than perhaps to serve as his cousin's bodyguard. If he were the heir to the Lancaster fortune, he would certainly not have been able to buy himself a narrow little row house in a less affluent neighborhood and live on his own. He also wouldn't be able to entertain anyone this late at night, certainly not a girl, and certainly not a fae girl.]
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elena hasn't made her peace with that so much as she just doesn't know that there's an alternative, that she may not truly be less for being what she is. ]
I only learned about how to best kill or main.
[ granted, there had been survival training, information on how to assess a crowd or an individual, on how to find escape routes in cities and in the wild, but none of the things elena had learned were about fitting in, adhering to societal standards. all of it had been geared towards making them better killers.
she doesn't want to kill anymore. ]
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His parents love him, he does know that much.]
You don't have to worry about that tonight.
[Hopefully she doesn't have to worry about that at all when she's with him. He likes to think that she can relax in his company, that she can let down her guard somewhat and just enjoy sharing his space with him. He certainly enjoys sharing with her.
Since it looks like she's polished off the dumplings, he starts to stand.] Do you want anything else? I can probably find something in the icebox if you're still hungry.
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I keep remembering it.
[ the food is done, but until he takes the plate, elena keeps looking at it or toying with her glass. being here keeps some of the pictures that never used to bother her at bay, but it doesn't mean she's forgotten them. ] Do you have that?
[ he was a soldier, wasn't he? he's killed, too.
at his question, she shakes her head. the dumplings were filling and warm and wonderful, and elena thinks maybe she could curl up and sleep now, her belly full even if her mind isn't fully at ease yet, no matter how much being around benedict and his perpetual calm helps her. ]
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And killed with it.]
Yes. [He might have just left her plate in the sink to deal with later, but he decides to wash it now so that he can have something to do with his hands.] Not all the time, but often enough. I remember how it feels. [The buzz as the crystal in his palm drew energy, the hum of its blast vibrating through the air, the sick squelching sound of it finding a target and obliterating it in mere seconds. The smell of charred flesh and the sickly-sweet copper tang of blood. How it feels to crush someone's throat beneath your hand and watch the life drain from their face.
He remembers it all.]
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sharing this was supposed to make it easier. it does, because it makes her question her own struggles less, but at the same time? she regrets asking, because this is as close to pained as she's ever heard benedict, and she doesn't want him to sound like that. ]
I'm sorry.
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They both have blood on their hands. He doesn't have to pretend here.]
Don't be. It wasn't your fault. [Benedict killed in defense of the Spire, and he's glad to have done it. It was his duty, as a guardsman, and as a resident of Spire Albion, and he doesn't regret doing it.
He regrets that it was necessary, but he doesn't regret taking action.]
More wine?
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[ sometimes, elena had been told that she was killing to protect coal tree, or for glory, and sometimes she'd just been expected to obey. sierra had asked her to kill as an act of friendship and loyalty, and elena had been glad to do it at the time. she wonders, sometimes, if she'd kill if benedict asked her to, as well.
the difference between him and sierra is, she thinks, that he won't ask her to. (if she did, she would.) ]
I'm sorry I brought it up.
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Elena. It's alright.
[His fingers press gently into her skin for a moment in what he hopes is a reassuring squeeze, and then he lets her go to return to the kitchen to put the wine away.]
Do you want to talk about it? Or would you rather we talk about something else? [Benedict doesn't necessarily want to talk about the times he's killed — hell, he didn't even tell Gwen about them, about how he was granted a medal by the Spirearch for his bravery — but if it will somehow help Elena absolve her spirit, then he's willing to rehash it all. Of course, he'd be far happier not having to do that, but if that's what she needs...]
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[ a moment later, she shakes her head. the motion isn't enough to dislodge his hand — if anything, she leans into the touch. it's comforting, reassuring not just in its intention. ] I think I don't. I just. [ she hesitates, but this is benedict. she trusts him more than anyone else in this world. ]
That's why I came here tonight. Because I couldn't stop remembering.
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He settles his hand down on her forearm, circling his fingers just above her wrist in a grip that's gentle enough that she can break free with hardly any movement at all. He's not sure how well she'll react to being grabbed like that; Elena isn't like any of the other girls he knows, who are much less...skittish. He doesn't want to upset her.]
You can tell me anything, you know that. [He hopes she knows that. He's not going to grass her up, not unless she somehow got herself involved in some terrorist plot against Spire Albion, and even then, he'd urge her to come with him to the Spirearch so she can tell him everything she knows and get protection from the guard.]
But we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I can put a film into the projector and we can just watch that, if that's what you want.
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A film. [ it's confirmation. she would like to watch a movie, and maybe sit close to him and breathe in his smell and take in his calm and wrap it around herself until she feels some semblance of it as well. ]
I used to think it was what I was meant to do, that it was how I had to act, but now I know that I don't, and somehow that makes it worse? [ the words spill out unbidden after all, and she's not sure they even make sense. ]
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He has yet to mention that he'd moved the projector to his bedroom a few weeks ago, but it won't take long to move it back down here if she'd prefer not to watch sitting up in his bed.
Slowly, he drags his thumb across the side of her hand, watching her with his golden slit-pupil eyes as she speaks.] We do the best we can with what information we have. [It sounds paltry, he knows, but it's the best comfort he can offer her.] Now that you know it isn't how you have to act, you can act differently.
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Thank you.
[ not even for the words, necessarily, though they fit into a picture of who she can be that benedict paints for her every time she comes to visit, unknowingly for the most part. it's a picture that elena likes a lot better than the picture the orphanage had painted, of the changeling as the ruthless killer, of the only productive outlet for her instincts. elena's instincts don't tell her to kill, these days. they tell her to run, or find a pack, to eat and to sleep and to drink and more than once, they've brought her to benedict's door, but to kill? she hasn't been threatened, and so she hasn't felt any need for it. ]
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Of course.
[Benedict's instincts are usually good about other people, and he doesn't feel his hackles rise around Elena at all. She, of course, pings a little on the danger radar, just because of what she is, but any and all trained people ping on that radar, so he's learned to take it with a grain of salt.
What was it the Cats say about people like her? Oh yes, that they're "dangerous." With the Cats, however, that is almost a glowing endorsement. Benedict can understand why.
He smiles and squeezes her hand again before slowly pushing up to his feet.] I took the projector upstairs a few weeks ago, [he confesses, picking up his glass and inclining his head towards the narrow stairs that bring you up into his living chambers.] If you don't mind, we can watch something up there, or I can haul it back down here.
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I don't mind if you don't.
[ she takes her glass as well, glancing at him before taking a step toward his stairs. ]
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Less work for me to do, I don't mind at all.
[The lumin crystals slowly wink out as they pass, Benedict willing them into darkness when he no longer needs them, and soon the downstairs is pitch-black again and the only light to be found comes from his open bedroom door. The interior is plain, almost austere, but there are a few personal knick-knacks lying around that give the room a semblance of character. His sword and his gauntlet rest in the weapons rack beside his armoire, and there are some books stacked on the table beside his bed, but apart from those things and a few articles of clothing tossed haphazardly around, the room isn't much to write home about.
The projector is set up to point at the bare wall across from his bed, and all it takes is a small touch to set it whirring to life.]
Pick a film, [he says, motioning towards the stack of them beside his books.] I've seen them all, I don't mind watching any of them again.
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the same holds, incidentally, for movies, and so she picks one that she thinks will not have any. the cover shows a dog and a cat, drawn next to each other.
somehow, that seems fitting. ] This one?
[ elena holds out the film to him and looks at the bed, then back at benedict — but he'd already said that she can sleep in it, and it's the only place to sit in this room, so she doesn't wait for his confirmation before settling down on it, curling her legs underneath her body. ]
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What's important is making sure that she feels comfortable.
The film starts to whirr to life, and since she's taken the bed without asking any questions, Benedict doesn't really hesitate to join her. As an afterthought, he leans across to turn off the lumin crystal beside the bed, which means he has to lean over her. A murmured apology is all she'll get, though, because the film has started, and he shifts to settle back against the headboard, their shoulders touching.]
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part of her wishes they were still holding hands. instead of reaching for his, she curls hers together in her lap and settles in to watch the movie. her assessment that animation and animals meant something lighthearted doesn't prove to be wholly accurate, but she gets sucked into the story almost immediately. ]
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Either way, he doesn't mind the proximity. He rather likes it, actually, having her warmth press against his side, and it's not fifteen minutes in to the film that he finds his eyelids drooping. For a while, he fights the urge to drift off to sleep, but the urge is too strong to ignore for long, and he finds himself slowly slipping into a light doze.
Quietly, so low that human ears might not even pick up on it, he starts to purr, the sound vibrating deep in his chest.]
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he trusts her, doesn't he? he wouldn't have dozed off if he didn't, and while elena isn't sure it's wise to trust someone who's been taught to be a killer all their life, it makes her want to be worthy of that trust. it makes her think that maybe, she can be.
the movie isn't over yet when elena closes her eyes, too, carefully settling more comfortably against benedict's side and the headboard. mostly against his side, admittedly. he's warm. ]
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The movie is a muted whirl of lights through his eyelids, the sound enough to make his ears twitch, but all he's really focused on at the moment is the warmth of Elena against his side, the pressure of her body against his and the hint that her head might fall to his shoulder any moment.
Eventually, the film finishes and the projector whirrs to a stop, the lumin crystal that had been sending the picture across the room quietly dimming until it fades into darkness, and Benedict lets himself drift properly to sleep to the sound of Elena's slow and steady breathing.
When he wakes, he's not sitting up in bed, but has instead slid down to curl up in the center of it, his blankets and pillows arranged around him like a nest. This in and of itself is not unusual, he can be a restless sleeper and has often woken up in a position he didn't start in, but what is unusual is the fact that he's not alone in bed. Even more unusual than that, however, is that he's somehow managed to tuck Elena right up against him, her head nestled beneath his chin and her hair tangled across his face, a few strands caught in his lips, an arm flung over her body and their legs tangled together.
It's alarming, and if he were less in control of his body, he might tense up and pull away without thinking, but all Benedict does is blink himself awake and shift slightly to make sure that nothing untoward happened that he had somehow managed to forget about.]
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eventually, the shift in his breathing wakes her, too. she's warm and she's comfortable and the weight of his arm against her body doesn't register as threatening, more grounding than restrictive. their positions do come as a surprise, but it's so close to what she imagines sleeping with a pack is like that it prompts a smile, and she tips her head back to let him see it without thinking. ]
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She's always been skittish when it came to being close to people, even Benedict, and he would have felt terrible if he somehow managed to upset her without even realizing he'd done it because he'd been asleep. He likes her, for all that she's a little odd, and he doesn't want to upset her. He wants her to like him, too.
Based on the smile she gives him when she wakes up enough to pull back to look at him, he doesn't have to worry about that.]
Good morning. [He lifts his arm off her so he can pull her hair out of his mouth, laughing sheepishly.] Sorry. I can be a little clingy when I sleep, apparently.
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