Post by syrinx on Jan 13, 2009 15:35:09 GMT -5
Resolution
By Syrinx
Rating: G
Canon: Thoroughbred
A/N: A drabble. Takes place in the same world as Integrity.
Lavinia had known. She’d taken up reminding him, quietly, under her breath, “You only own a handful of horses, not the entire farm.”
She said it with her fingertips trailing his jawbone, feeling the muscles work. She liked to do that, as if it proved something to her that he would never say. Never out loud. He would remove her hand from his skin and shake his head, watch the steely resolve that passed over her face as he said, “Those horses are Whitebrook Farm.”
She hated that sentence because it was right, justified his every interest, effectively shut her down. Every time. What they both knew was that she would never debase herself, would not make accusations, would not, under any circumstances, react without his words there in front of her. Words would justify action. Instead she would remove her wrist from his hand and turn her back, would wait for confessions that would never come.
He had nothing to confess.
By Syrinx
Rating: G
Canon: Thoroughbred
A/N: A drabble. Takes place in the same world as Integrity.
Lavinia had known. She’d taken up reminding him, quietly, under her breath, “You only own a handful of horses, not the entire farm.”
She said it with her fingertips trailing his jawbone, feeling the muscles work. She liked to do that, as if it proved something to her that he would never say. Never out loud. He would remove her hand from his skin and shake his head, watch the steely resolve that passed over her face as he said, “Those horses are Whitebrook Farm.”
She hated that sentence because it was right, justified his every interest, effectively shut her down. Every time. What they both knew was that she would never debase herself, would not make accusations, would not, under any circumstances, react without his words there in front of her. Words would justify action. Instead she would remove her wrist from his hand and turn her back, would wait for confessions that would never come.
He had nothing to confess.