bakerstreet | ( what you can never have )

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( what you can never have )

When two people come together in a relationship, it's a beautiful thing. What can be wrong with love, right? Right? Except when the union is completely and totally wrong, for whatever reason. Then things can get a little messy.

How To Play

1. Comment with your character, listing their name, canon, etc, along with any preferences.
2. Comment around to others, using the RNG to determine the scenario. It doesn't have to be a lovey-dovey relationship, obviously. There can be hate, sorrow, lust, whatever.
3. Thread! Have fun! Do things!

Scenarios

1. Warring Factions: You belong to rival organizations, armies, clubs, etc. Whatever it is, you're not on the same team.

2. Soldiers on the Battlefield: Or maybe you are on the same side, but this is the wrong time and the wrong place. Plus, attachments cause distractions.

3. Bodyguard and the Guarded: Just like the movie with Kevin Costner! One of you has been hired to protect the other for some reason, and feelings are starting to grow. Are you a professional and cut things off, or do you give in?

4. Prince/ss and Knight: Similar to the above, but with a whole 'nother level of wrong...one of you is royal. Courtly love is okay; still, don't forget your place.

5. Enemies: This vendetta is personal, and you totally hate this person! Don't you? Perhaps you're maybe just rivals, or something as serious as superhero and villain.

6. Family: The ultimate taboo. This person is related to you, so there's no way you should indulge this desire, even if it's the most pure love there ever was.

7. Age Difference: The years between you should keep you both at bay, but it's easier said than done.

8. Teacher/Student: Teachers and students have a unique bond, and to corrupt it is a dangerous thing. Will you dare to act on emotions that could put you both in a destructive place?

9. Already Spoken For: One or both of you are already involved with someone else, but the heart wants what the heart wants. Just know that you can't have your cake and eat it, too.

10. Not Compatible: Your personalities or jobs make it so it's hard for you to be together.

11. Not Compatible...in Another Way: You're both different species, which means you're either afraid to take your relationship to a physical level or you can't because of differences in biologies.

12. Not Ready for Love: You took a vow (or celibacy, of chastity, of dedication), you're married to your work, or you just don't want to be involved with anyone. Too bad!

13. Rich and Poor: One of you has the money while the other is from more modest means. Can the 1% and the 99% ever be bedfellows, literally?

14. Hurt Before: Your heart has been broken, and maybe there's been no time to heal. But here you are.

15. WILDCARD

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[ Good.

Not that he had a plan beyond getting everyone else out. He pushes back to his feet, cloak swirling behind him, and he paces to the door so he can throw the bolt. Let them worry. He won't murder her.

Not yet, anyway.

He turns back to her with a nod. ]

Satisfied. If not happy. [ Now that he's standing he really does loom over her, his broad shoulders and chest seeming all the larger because of the cloak he wears. ]

I don't want distractions. This will be between you and me.

[ Watching him, she tips her head. ]

That is in no way necessary.

[ And maybe it does put her a bit more on edge. Every move he makes is meant to intimidate her -- locking the door, not returning to his seat -- and she will not be intimidated. She has slain larger beasts.

If he wants to stand, she will stand as well. Both hands rest on the table as she rises. It doesn't do much in the face of how he looms, but it leaves her in a better position to strike. ]

But as long as you have my undivided attention, I offer three months of no further invasion.

[ Even that seems too long. It feels, as she said, like a favor. ]

Edited 2020-06-03 04:39 (UTC)

Three months? My people will starve if they don't bring in the harvest. You know that-

[ He hisses the words between his teeth and stalks closer. ]

You're trying to cause a famine. Intentionally.

[ This is not how you negotiate, Dimitri. ]

[ It takes an effort not to roll her eyes. She lets out a small scoff. ]

Why would I bother to plan a famine when I could stab you through the heart now and be done with it?

[ She takes the weight of both arms off the table and turns to face him as he moves closer, one hand on her hip. ]

Do it, then.

[ He snarls at her, fingers hooked into claws. ]

Take that dagger and drive it into my chest-

[ He knows that dagger. It's the one he gave to the girl he loved all those years ago, but now he's sure that she's long dead and gone. ]

Finish cutting my heart out!

[ For the space of a heartbeat she doesn't move. She barely breathes. She's the calm before a storm.

For so many years she thought back on the boy who gave her the dagger and was unable to recall his face, the details of countless good childhood memories blurred around the vivid recollection of the hell that was her captivity. But she knows one thing: the man snarling at her, this feral creature who's so sure she's carrying the dagger even now, is not that boy. ]

As you wish.

[ She's quick, her fingers dipping into her boot as she bends. The blade glints as she pulls it out. ]

[ She moves fast. Dimitri almost doesn't have time to react. As the blade comes out he lunges at her, trying to grapple her wrist to prevent the blade from being used against him. He has no more words; just a wordless snarl as he tries to use his greater weight and strength to control this fight. ]

[ She never underestimates Dimitri's skill and over the last few years she's learned not to underestimate his bloodlust.

What she does underestimate is just how easily he can overwhelm her in close quarters like this. She's stronger than she should be, but he still has the advantage. Her body nearly goes sideways when he slams into her, her back meeting the table's edge with enough force that its legs screech against the floor. She's tipped backwards a bit, trapped between the table and his larger frame, but one hand grabs for his messy hair and pulls to make his head turn. The tip of the dagger rests firmly on his throat, angled to bite into that delicate skin. ]

[ There's a rush of motion and sudden violence, a clatter and crash as they both tumble over the table and then he's arched over her, teeth gritted, breathing hard. There's the cool kiss of steel against his throat; not quite there. Not quite pushing into the flesh. He knows it wouldn't take much for her to press and cut his throat open and spill his lifeblood out over her.

A part of him wants her to. A part of him just wants this to end. A part of him simply wants to die. ]

Do it.

[ His voice is hoarse, throat bobbing slightly where the dagger point presses into him. His hand is still around her wrist, threatening to crush and squeeze.

Underneath the anger and the hate there's something like a plea. ]

[ She's nearly had the breath knocked out of her. Her heartbeat is a steady thud that says do it, echoing his own words. He wants it. He almost sounds pleading. This is as close to giving up as she thinks he'll ever get, closer than she ever imagined him.

It should make this easier. How many times has she wished that the bandits she hired when they were students had managed to do the deed? This all could have gone more smoothly.

The tip of the blade sinks deep enough to draw blood, but still she hesitates, her eyes a bit too wide beneath her crooked headpiece. ]

[ He feels the sharp, cold shock as the blade draws blood and he grimaces slightly, feeling the blood start to trickle down his neck. She won't do it, though. Can't do it. He doesn't know which.

His grip on her wrist tightens in a wordless threat. ]

You can't, can you?

[ It's a challenge. ]

[ He's crushing her wrist. It hurts.

But she's endured worse. She bites the inside of her cheek, hard enough to taste copper, and it makes his grasp seem more bearable.

The blade leaves his skin, blood smeared. It takes a painful effort, her aim thrown off by the tightness of his grip, but she turns her hand and strikes his jaw with the hilt. ]

[ The blade slips away and his head jerks down slightly as the tension snaps, just in time to be smashed across the face with the pommel and hilt. It hurts. Makes him see stars. He doesn't let go. Instead he squeezes and bends over her, trying to find her other wrist with his other hand so he can pin her back against the table and bear down with his weight. ]

I thought you were ready to go to any lengths. What's different? What is it, Edelgard?

[ His other hand catches her forearm and she hastily aims the blade again, this time at his mouth. As though she'll slit the seam of his lips. ]

What do you want, Dimitri? You won't surrender but you come here to discuss a truce. You tell me to slit your throat but--

[ It shakes her to the core to think that he's gotten under her skin somehow, a sharp splinter, but she bends one leg and and aims her foot at his hipbone in an attempt to push him back. ]

--you fight the effort.

[ She could have done it. He would have let her. ]

[ His head jerks back from the threat of the blade and it catches against his cheek, another bright line of red opened up along his face. Blood drops from his face and spatters against her coat. The pain sharpens things; brings them into relief. ]

You are all that I think about.

[ He hisses the words, low and menacing. ]

My father, my mother, my brother - they're always there, they're here, and they're all telling me to kill you. Every day, every night, that's all I hear!

[ His teeth flash white above her as he tries to jar the dagger loose from her grasp. ]

I hate you. I hate that I ever loved you. I hate that I still do. I can't be free of this-

[ His blood seeps into the scarlet she wears.

She's fully aware that she's a deserving target for his ire, but it's jarring every time he blames her for something she hasn't done. Things she couldn't possibly have done. He isn't well and there is nothing she can do for him.

Her fingers tighten on the dagger, refusing to let him wriggle it free. ]

No.

[ No, she refuses to hear it. Her free hand darts out to clumsily splay across his mouth and chin, pushing his face back so the blade grazes his cheek again. ]

Don't ever say you love me again.

[ She has expected his hate for years. She's willing to carry the weight of it if she must.

It's his love, angry as it is, that she cannot live with. ]

[ There's a shuddering gasp, his head tilted back, away from the cutting edge of the dagger. She refuses to give up - but that's just like her, isn't it? ]

It's the truth, Edelgard-!

[ He speaks around the gloved fingers that press into his chin, against his lips, his good eye wild and wide. ]

I loved you for the longest time and damn me, I still do! So why - why do I have to do both?

[ Hate and love in equal measure. He tries to twist his head away from the dagger, lowers it for a sharp headbutt. Although she has her crown - that might not be the greatest idea. ]

No.

[ She never imagined that his affection for her rivaled his hatred, but...

It suddenly starts to make more sense. If he loved her when they were students her betrayal would have hurt all the more.

She barely has a chance to think it before she sees him aim his forehead at her and she can't believe his gall. Or his lack of forward-thinking. Quickly she rolls to the right, out of the way but not away, and immediately she hates that she did it.

As gruesome as it would have been, she should have let him take his remaining eye out. He could blame her for that too. ]

[ There's a muffled curse from him as he misses, striking a glancing blow that leaves his head spinning. He presses closer, tries to smother her with his body as he gives up on controlling her hands and instead wraps his hands around her throat. ]

They're telling me to kill you.

[ He murmurs the words, the whispers that only he can hear echoing in his ears. ]

They want you dead. [ His grip tightens, squeezing, cutting off air. Threatening to strangle the life out of her. ]

And I - I do too, but I don't- [ There's a choked, angry sob from him. Tears are welling up in his good eye. ]

Why do I have to love you, El? Why can't I just hate?

[ No.

It's all she can think now. No to his love, no to his ghosts, no to dying like this, after failing to tear his throat open herself. She can't die like this. ]

Ghk--

[ At first her feet kick at him, one hand clawing at the fingers around her neck, but she can't seem to do enough and he's cutting off her air. Another strangled sound leaves her throat and she lets the dagger clatter to the floor.

Don't call me that, she wants to say and she doesn't have the breath for it. For the first time in years she feels wetness in the corners of her eyes and the hand that had been so willing to hold a blade to him before cups his cheek instead. ]

[ It's the gentle touch of fingers against his cheek that make him pause; his grip slackens. His throat works in a swallow and he wants to lean into the caress just as much as he wants to keep strangling the life out of her. ]

El-

[ He murmurs her name again and now he can feel the tears well and truly starting, rolling down his cheek. ]

Why?

[ He leans down until their faces are scant inches apart. He can feel his body convulse as he draws in a breath and his fingers curl and tighten again for another moment of impulse. ]

I hate you. [ The words are whispered and hoarse and then his lips press against hers. It's not loving or gentle; if anything it's clumsy and harsh, but perhaps it helps him vent the muddled emotions that run through him. ]

[ He can't call her that. He doesn't have the right. Not now.

She blinksblinks against her own tears but it does little to help; her eyelashes are damp when he hovers over her, and though her body tenses when his fingers curl against her neck she dares to bring her other hand to his face too.

A hoarse intake of breath is the only sound she manages to make before his mouth crashes against hers. At first her lips are slack, unresponsive. The surprise is too great, but after a moment she begins to think she can eventually diffuse this.

Or make sure they kill each other in this locked room, a different kind of truce entirely, but either way it starts the same: his kiss returned, her back leaving the table, her dress up around one bent knee. Her kiss is no less clumsy than his, haphazard, their teeth clacking from the force behind it as she rises to meet him. ]

[ He is disheveled (more than he usually is), still dripping blood from the cuts on his neck and cheek, staining his cloak and her dress and his own clothing as it runs down his face and throat. Drops splatter against her chin and cheek, hot and streaking. The smell and taste of copper is in the air, but it doesn't stop him.

The clack of teeth doesn't slow him down either. Instead the kiss is clumsy and possessive and somehow needy. His hands tear at her clothing, unthinking and without any thought of slowing down. There's too much and he needs to get it out somehow. He needs to resolve the contradiction - hatred, love, lust, despair.

His teeth close against her lower lip and bite, even as his powerful hand tries to simply rip her dress open. ]

Dimitri!

[ It's a hoarse hiss against his mouth as his teeth sink into her lip, her throat too raw for much more. Under his hand a clasp at the front of her dress gives and pings to the floor. His blood streaks down her cheek and wets the fingers of her gloves and that is all fine, but he cannot be allowed to just tear her dress open so her hands fly from his face to stop his hand.

Her eyes are too wide, almost as wild as his. It's unthinkable that she guides his hand beneath her bunched skirt instead, but she's doing precisely that: showing his fingers the way to the thin cotton of her underwear. If he must rip anything he can rip that, something that doesn't leave her so inexcusably exposed if they both leave this room alive. ]

[ There's a noise that's almost a growl as her hand moves to stop his, but then she's guiding it instead and it lowers, turning into another sort of noise. Something lower and hoarse, as his gloved fingers drag up her thigh, bunching her dress against his arm. He finds the warmth between her legs, can feel it through thin cloth and leather, and he presses roughly, grinds his palm against it in an attempt to make her react. ]

Why do I want you?

[ The question is muttered to her, against the shell of her ear as he sucks down a gasp of air, a knee joining his arm to force her legs further apart. ]

Why do I hate you? Why can't I stop doing either?

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