CLOSED | prompt eight | RUIN

[dondarrion]

prompt eight | R U I N dressing-room style. closed to rog.

 

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[pedigree]

[ Somewhere on her brother's body there's a new scar for his troubles and, even though he does not say as much, Ruth understands Saul well enough — what he's capable of, how he operates, what he's thinking — to know that it's there. Part of her wants to search for it, wants to lay her hands upon his body and strip him of all of his clothes, looking to revisit all the parts of him that she's already committed to memory a dozen dozen times before. It's an opportunity to notice and learn and rewrite the memory all the things that have changed during a prolonged absence. There is no way to make up for the time that has been so roughly taken from them — no way at all, and even if there were, it would not undo that initial blow of abandonment (a wound still fresh upon Ruth's heart that has no means to heal).

Her hands are shaking both out of anger and uncertainty when she finally reaches for him, a hand gripped around each forearm. Ruth steadies her breath, a slow inhale-exhale throughout her nose, but the facade is already flawed, emotion coloring ever action and reaction. ]

Did they hurt you? [ She already knows the answer, but the words come regardless. Tell me. Show me. Let Sissy kiss it better. Let me pretend like I can still protect you. ]

[breeding]

[ There is nothing that he wouldn't do to keep her safe. He's told her as much before, when trying to convince her into running away with him, but there's no effort that isn't met with that cry of come back, come back. (It's my turn to take care of you, Ruthie. We can be whoever we like, out there. Go wherever we please, do whatever we want. Nobody to tell us what to do, nobody to try to make us forget. Just you and me. There isn't a soul who could stop us.)

Nothing, it seems, save returning to the Aviary.

But each time she asks, he comes closer to saying yes. It wrecks him, to see her like this, if only because he knows she hates being like this, too. ]

'S just a scratch, [ he says, nuzzling gently at her hair. ('A scratch' here meaning a wound drawn down from one shoulder and across his collarbone. Had he been careless or had they sent someone better than the last time?) ] Can't get Sally that easy, eh?