2019-09-18 - The Tempest's Toll

Lilith really should just make Byron a key to the shop and her loft. The shop is locked up despite it still being opening hours and he has to knock when he arrives to notify the figure he sees with the lights on within. Katy lets him in and for the first time in her apathetic little counter life there at the shop, she looks expressly relieved to see the man and a little rattled, her eyes a bit wide behind the big dark-framed glasses. She doesn't say anything, though, she just points back at the staircase back by the office with indicator to let him see... and smell... for himself.

The stairs up to the loft give a peek at the carnage of the office, which Katy looks to have tried to clean up a few degrees, rather uselessly. Mostly she's just made piles of wood, drywall, and insulation debris and it smells residually like nasty, oily soot and ash and smoke and... maybe a bit of charred meat, depending, now that the door has been closed under the nervous shop-girl's watch. It's... not quite like there's been a fire, though, even though pieces of the debris when studied seem to be marked with nasty soot markings. What's more prominent is the fact the surface level of the ceiling has been caved and cracked to fall in pieces and the desk has been shattered, a fine layer of insulation and dust that's... yes, that's ash, on a lot of the surfaces now that it's all stilled.

Someone was either messy about taking something down, or very upset when it was done. Or both. The door to the loft upstairs is unlocked, though, and the apartment is quiet and still. The bathroom light is on, which is where Lilith can be seen through the open door, sitting on the floor with the mirror over the sink busted and shards of glass in the basin and on the floor. Right now, she's showered and seems to have gotten out right before texting Byron and her hair is brushed wet back away from her face, the hairbrush in the floor next to her. It's a bit like she gave up mid-after-shower-routine, spurred by something in the mirror, and just dropped to kneel in wait with her phone, unwilling to move for the moment.

Byron always thought Katy was more than a little useless when it came to, well, everything. So when he's let inside, there's some tension that makes his jaw tighten when taking notice of this nervousness that's come over her, looking at her with accusatory eyes that state simply 'I bet you did nothing to try and stop this'. No relief washes over him or kindness and he doesn't even wait for her to direct him on where to go. Before she can even make a gesture, he leaves her behind.

The heavy scent of ash and soot has him giving the entire store a look over, though he's drawn to that office now as he was already on his way up to the loft. When he sees the disaster that it the interior of her office, he lingers there just outside the doorway to take in the scene before him. He doesn't care if the other woman was doing her hardest to get the place cleaned, though he isn't the one paying her, there's a firm, almost dangerous tone given to the other woman now. "Get this place cleaned up. I don't care how you do it. But get it done."

Heading up the the loft stairs, all dressed up in his usual business attire for the day, he pushes the door open, before slamming it shut behind him. On arriving to the loft, the place is given a quick inspection but that's not why he's here. The lit bathroom brings him to find Lilith on the floor surrounded by shards of glass. She just got out of that damn hospital and now this? Maybe he should've left her there. He's quick to take action, crouching low into a kneel next to her, this look of concern and this building aggravation blurs on his features, "I knew I should've drove you to my place last night." All he can do is draw in a deep breath in an attempt to calm him. He wants her to tell him all about it, everything that happens, but it's a difficult thing to ask of someone when they are in this shattered state. So he'll start out slow, "Let's get you out of here." No need for her to be sitting among glass. Firm hands grip at her carefully, attempting to lift her to stand and ease her up slowly. "How are you feeling?" Obviously, not very good. "Are you hurt? In any pain?"

She said that another was with her? Was that Katy? That's the only other person here right now and that's the answer that he's seeking at the moment.

Downstairs, Katy has a bit of a moment and hauls ass straight into cleanup, something about the man's tone combined with the confusion and destruction of the day poking at her rattled state to set her into motion. Upstairs, Lilith responds when she hears the door and the cadence of Byron's swift footsteps combined with his suited frame coming toward the doorway, casting her phone aside to immediately reach for Byron as he reaches to lift and steady her into stand. Bodily, she just seems shaky, but generally okay, the other (real) presence in the doorway lending her quick functioning relief. There's bruising alongside her temple on into the top of her scalp, and she's definitely had a nasty head knock, but other than a headache, she's probably okay.

"I'm not... hurt. Byron... I'm sorry. I wanted to wash it all off and make it go away. So I texted you about bones, but I looked in the mirror and..." She sighs and swallows down, letting him start to lead her out of the bathroom. She's not cut up, most of the glass is either in the sink or right by the wall and she's on the towel bathmat in front of the tub. Her voice drops, "The shadows were too long." The towel stays tucked around her in wrap as she stares at his buttons on his shirt, "It shut me down and I got scared it was going to happen again." She pauses, miserably, "Your place would have just... meant it was you instead of Corey coming with that goddamn soup... it would have went so differently." But she doesn't sound like that's a good thing, maybe.

What would they have been if she'd have done it? If he had been there to help her give the thing they... no.

Holding her close against him as Byron guides her with care out into the main room of the loft, he catches sight of discoloration where she'd been struck on the head. The way that his body practically bristles, something that not even his suit jacket can hide, says more about his own frame of mind than the intensity found within his eyes. "I'll get you an ice pack and some meds, but I want you to get rest." He won't tell her to not think about it. Of course she's going to think about it. There's this look of BULLSHIT, when she says she's not hurt. In his eyes, she's hurt. She was frazzled, so while she may physically only have surface bruises on her, she was hurting.

"What shadows?" He knows of shadows, he's seen them all his life. "And what do you mean shut you do--" He stops himself, taking in a deep breath right about now. He won't badger her with questions. If possible, he was going to find the answers himself.

There's that Corey name again. He has this to say about the whole matter, "Maybe it should have been me instead." Believing that the outcome would more than likely turn out for the better.

Lilith blows out a long puff of air over her lips while finally looking away from Byron's shirt, just in time to catch the very unconvinced look in his eyes and display her own eyes raw and wounded and vulnerable. She nods some to his 'rest' piece and clings to him for a tight moment, as if she needs the realness and solidity of him just a little bit longer when he says what he's going to fetch. Eventually and obediently, though, she starts to release enough to take a step toward the nearest point of rest, the couch, "I wish it would have been you. I was afraid and even though I wasn't alone... I felt alone. God, I nearly always feel alone if I'm not with you, what the hell is wrong with me?"

She continues on, the venting at least putting some piss back into her about the situation, instead of depression and fear, "He had no clue what was happening and couldn't handle it, then my reaction... he couldn't get out fast enough when it was done." God, she should have just been alone, it should have been no one but her paying prices, right? She doesn't think anything better would have happened if he had been there, it might have been worse, who knows what they would have turned into, but it doesn't stop her from wanting it to be so, to feel safe control in the middle of the horror, "If it had been you, I might have... oh fuck me, Byron, I am so sick of being me, these things are so hard to explain with words. I feel like a lamp buzzed with constant shadow insects, I'm tired of it. I thought doing good things would..."

When he goes to tend to pills and ice pack, she sits for a moment after the outpour, glances down at herself in the towel, then tells him, "They want me to pay. Are you able... to make it so I don't have to use words? I want you all through me, inside me in any way. I feel like our time is running out. The candle that burns twice as bright burns twice as fast. You know that, don't you?" Her tone of voice softens, though, toward the end, and once they're out, she seems to wish she could take some of those words back from morbid spill at the air.

Yes, it occurs to him that Lilith got grievously injured in his presence once. But that was in the presence of a lot of people in the middle of what seemed like a warzone. Yet, Byron knows that he'd failed her, even if he was able to to stop the blubberous creature from attacking anyone else. It still hurt Lilith. He won't bring that up. In fact, while it's on his mind, the very idea that this someone else couldn't do any better, in his eyes, is enough to keep him on edge. "Does this Corey even shine?" He has to ask. He's not sure if he was told this before or not and if he did, it was something that slipped his mind.

When Lilith says that she's sick of being her, it makes him wonder of all the dreams that he's been pulled into as of late. All four of them. It seemed as they were both affected by this, even if she was taking it worse than he was. If these dreams had affected him in any way, Byron is really good at hiding this fact.

He's about to tell her to calm down, but he stops himself from doing so at the very last moment. Instead, he rummages through that first aid kit for the pills, before looking through her freezer for an ice pack of sorts. They all tended to get hurt more often than not, so she's bound to have one somewhere. Feeling the chill of the frozen pack against his skin, the cool air of the freezer washing over him as he stands there in the kitchen, when Lilith brings up this 'They', he's about to ask 'Who?', but something tells him he knows the answer to that. The freezer door is closed, and if she's attentive enough, she can feel his eyes on him, even if he does his best to not to look as if he's staring.

Are you able... to make it so I don't have to use words?

It's odd that she'd asked. Almost as if she were reading his mind, but if that were the case, he would have been alerted to that fact, he's sure by his own mental security system. "I could try." He starts, "But it's hard to pick out one particular moment in time. What I actually read may be something else altogether. Another feeling, another memory." The more successful he is, the deeper he delves into the actual situation, whether it's the one that he was seeking or not. When she talks about the candle that burns twice as bright burns twice as fast, at first there's some confusion, then he realizes she's talking about herself and her powers. "Why? Why do you think that? I mean, I don't shine as brightly as you do, but I'm caught up in all of this as well." And while not all of those were his dreams, there was something personal in most of them; something from his own past. On his way to the couch, he picks up a clean towel to wrap the ice pack in, before settling down in a space beside her. Handing her a glass of water and the pills first, he considers her request, even if he had planned to do it anyway, but there's this pause here to make it seem that he's thinking it over. "I'll do it. Or I'll try."

"Yeah. But unfamiliar." Lilith says on the topic of Corey's shine, bothered into slowdown with her venting outpour. There's a pause. The woman visibly reconsiders with unease after watching Byron's reaction and listening to him for a moment with small turn on the couch. Her head shakes and she presses her lips into a flat line before she lets it fall back against the cushions with her hair in tousled, drying state, her brows knit down with gradual draw into frown, "I knew something like this was coming. It's why my reflections started bothering me again. This was different than the other ones somehow. It's like... they wanted me to know I owe the shadow for my light, not just to exploit and confuse me. They. They. I don't even know what to call them, Byron. But it's Them."

Then he's near and she reaches for the glass of water with pull of her head up, starting to lapse into withdraw little by little to take a hold of the bother and upset and fear that crept up to overwhelm her as a trigger response. Her lashes look at the pills and she takes them, swallows the water obediently, then reaches a hand for the ice pack, deciding after a few moments with a slow start to her words, uncertain with a tinge of dread in her voice, "But then you'll feel it like... I did, right? I don't... want you to feel that. It's probably a bad idea. I'll try to think of the best way to explain. Just... give me a second to work it. It's fine, no one needs to feel what I'm feeling right now."

"I thought I could be something good, you know. I was proud of what I was able to do for you, for the others. I thought... maybe I wasn't... just made to destroy. I was starting to feel..." It's hard to find a word for it, what she was starting to feel, but she doesn't try to find it. Lilith looks at her glass, instead and swallows, "The healing others. They hate it. They wanted me to pay. I wouldn't do it."

If anything, being told that the other guy was unfamiliar with his abilities gets a slow nod from Byron, "New to town?" There's a lot of that going on and everyone was being thrust into the fire in the past few months. These things have been going on for years. Gray Harbor was plagued with the darkness. It's just that now, these occurrences, dreams, tend to happen more often and more violently. When she goes on to explain just Who they were, she doesn't really need to say anything. "The Dark Men." That name for them has been tossed around. Hell, they were even associated with the Asylum, for what he knows. Whether that's true or not, he doesn't know any better. "Used to call them shadow people. I mean, one of the actors tried to recruit Geoff, remember?" The one who got away. "And made his life a living hell when he refused. Or, that's what I garnered for what he'd told us."

A gentle touch brushes through her hair and with the wrapped pack, he presses down at some of the bruising carefully. He's not sure if it will actually make her feel better or that it won't give her any more discomfort with how cold it is, but it should help numb some of the pain there and soothe the swelling. "What did they..." He's about to ask, but remembers that she wanted him to read her, to tap into her mind. "Sort of." He'll explain, "I'll usually get a sense of the emotions present, but like I said, I might not pick out the correct moment in time from your mind. It's more likely, however, since it still shakes you to the core. It's usually easier when someone else places the memory into your mind." Or show it like one some holographic screen the way he tends to now. "I'll do what I can and sift through your emotions." He then narrows his eyes, the hand that was brushing away her locks of her hair reaches for her wrist, "Stop it. The more you try to lock anything away, the harder this is to do." This is exactly why his locked off mind tends to make it harder for most to break through his barriers. "Just relax."

Deciding that the ice pack isn't entirely needed now, he'll set it down on the coffee table, before reaching for both of her hands once they are free, holding them within his own as he turns to her. "You were doing good, Lilith. You healed /ME/. Imagine if you weren't there to do any of that?" He may still be suffering the effects of brain damage right now. "Like with anything, we'll deal with them as we're dealing with everything else, alright? Don't think that you're doing the wrong thing." Even if Alexander warned him about Lilith overusing her powers. "Just," He takes in a break, his posture straightening, expression still tight to go with the intensity in his eyes, "Breathe."

Lilith lets Byron tend the ice pack and sits still as she tries to key herself down the wrong way a few notches for the sake of explaining, despite the vaguely wounded edge to her voice with the last of her own words. Then she nods a little to Byron's question on 'newness' in regards to Corey when he asks, clarifying more specifically, "Grew up, left early, came back." Probably makes sense-- that just seems to be the way of things for a lot of people when Gray Harbor is their home and not everyone gets total awful exposure to the elements that make the town the first time around. Then she draws in a slow breath of air through her nose when Byron recalls Geoff and the visitor and her head tips into a tiny nod after a beat of pause.

How did that already seem like so long ago? Last time she saw Geoff, Hank was still alive, she was newly feeling (deceptively) free of curse after over a week of bad luck, and then... so much more. How many times has Byron almost died? Even the moments when he came out mostly whole, she always obsessed over what could have happened, then there were the times when... the hold at her wrist sends her into lash batting out of her distraction as she somewhat hazes off while looking at the man, lost in her own worries for him all of a sudden just sitting on the couch next to her.

Which one of them would create the lashback or fear that made next time?

Lilith focuses and breathes, and when he reaches for her hands, she puts the water aside to clear them entirely and shifts with turn on the couch to relent and let him feel everything that's recent and roiling with imagery-emotion attachment at the moment. After a look down at their joined hands, she takes a moment to breathe anew, then she looks at his face and eyes with some damp hair falling over her cheek and temple to cover that damn bruising during a small scoot shift... then she's still and quiet.

Maybe it's the way Byron is trying to assure her that the good things she's done are very good before he sets in, but the most prominent image tied to emotion flashes first, then it twists to the way its all laced up with new fear and dread from following flash imagery. What he skims off of her, of course, isn't everything, but the way everything is fresh and raw... it might be enough to get the point.

Byron is looking at her with general fascination and wonder and pride in one of the moments after he's healed by her abilities and the pride she feels is strong, so strong, so good and pure and warm feeling. She resonates with a sense of feeling whole and balanced, the good coming out to counter the damages she makes. But then it twists as the image flashes to dessicated beings in tumble down the stairs at her, there's twisted dread as more of those horrible maimed and broken figures reach for her in another flash. And there's the sense they want the healing she has given in a very dark and unnatural way, cracks in the skin glowing orange, emanating wrong she can feel to her bones. There's an ache of Byron's absence as a dark-haired young man flashes in imagery while her arm is out, him behind her shell-shocked and afraid, and she's playing brave, longing for the bubble of Byron's security. Then there's emptiness echoing as she can't reach to give them what they want her to pay.

Instead, there's fury. There's ash. Then there's destruction as Lilith feels the price is so unfair. There's fire and smears of dark shadow stains on the desk, on the ceiling, the maimed figures crackle and burn and seem to feel nothing. Then they're piles to blow, but when they're gone, she can sense more and more on the fringes, waiting. Everything good is twisted. She rages and rages and rages because she doesn't know what else to do, ending the flash imagery with how the office looks as a result and the dark-haired fellow moving silently and shellshocked out of the back door with her standing terrified and dazed with pain in the office carnage.

Byron could prepare himself for any onslaught of images or emotions to bombard his mind, especially after what Lilith had said happened. She looked both frazzled and fragile. Despite the strength and deadliness of her powers, Byron can't help but think of her as someone delicate to be protected. That's how he he's always thought of Lily. And in a sense, perhaps he's right. The young Winslow girl may be incredibly capable, able to tear into anyone that she wished or as of recent, destroy entire armies into cinder. Yet there was just something in her that needing his protection. At least, that's what he'll keep telling himself. Whatever is happening to her now, being tormented by Them, this reinforces this belief.

Out of his arsenal of mentalist powers, the ones that Byron tends to use most are the ones that tap into other's emotions, skimming their very thoughts, or witnessing a moment in time that holds some value to a random object or item. He's been doing that for years now, experiencing other people's fears, concerns, their desires among other things. He always prepares himself mentally for just what will come. These readings don't always work in similar ways and the payoff isn't always the same. There were times where the memory he is trying to tap into wasn't the sensation that washed over him, but he's been getting better at pinpointing exactly what he's seeking.

That breath was him steeling himself. She's seen him like this, almost as if he were in a trance, the way in which he stares out at her unblinkingly. It's difficult to tell if he's even attentive to the world around him or if all of that is shut out so he can focus on...

There's some confusion at first to what he is witnessing. He can feel more than he can see. The lightness at the start of this memory is overshadowed by an ever looming sense of dread. There were things in the shadows. Things that wanted her to heal them, demanded that of her as if she owed them. Her fear is strong as is her anger; an anger that continues on even after the dream world fades. At certain points within this reading, she might feel his grip tighten around her hands, more of a reaction to what he's experiencing than anything else. Then that grip finally loosens and he blinks once to indicate that he's back.

He's not about to mention the destruction of the office or anything like that, he'll focus on Them. Well, perhaps they aren't the Dark Men, but they are made of darkness. "Clayton.." It annoys him to say that the man may be right, "warned me that the more that you used your powers, the more attention that you would attract. But I'm not going to tell you when to use your powers and when not to--" Though he does remember, now, that he asked for Lilith's help in healing Erin. "If this is really happening, then we should warn Erin too." In his mind, this was a Healers problem. It doesn't occur to him that he just used his own abilities to get much information from her. There's a prominent concern in his mind now, but there was no need to frighten her now.

It takes a moment for him to gather what to say next. He can't apologize to her for making her use her powers on him. He can't do that and make her feel badly for doing so. "We all have to be a little more careful now, no matter how difficult They make it." Of course, whenever any of them got hurt within a dream, it was just to force them to use their abilities, right?

"They kept talking. Together. They said I was a beacon when I heal, when my light flares, they awake in torment and I will make them whole again as payment. If you had been there, I might have tried, I might have been able, we might have thought the way out was through, but what would they become then? Am I literally waking terrible things up, or..." Lilith murmurs, dropping her lashes back to look at their hands when Byron is finished looking at, or rather into or through her, a puff of air coming over her lips, "I can't really do it for most anyone else without you. Maybe it's just meant for you. It feels different with you. I'm not ever scared. It makes me feel right when I can align you the way you're supposed to be."

The woman works her bottom lip between her teeth and sits like that, looking at their hands for a long moment before saying quietly, "We should tell Erin." She pauses, "Byron... you read the email. They seem to want me there for the exorcism." She pauses, "I was going to ask Erin to actually choose between me and August because her comfort and trust is important. He's more steady. I'm more powerful. I don't know which is better or what's going to happen... maybe they're collectively opting for power just in case there's lashback, but..." Finally, she draws in a breath and looks up at his dark eyes again, "Can I trade you?" She's still somewhat subdued and still just seated in a towel, but she's one piece and not overflowing with reactionaries.

"If /I/ were there." Byron says, this serious look in his eyes, "We would've destroyed them all." He, himself, never had the mind of a healer or mender, no matter how much of a 'Good Guy' he'd portray himself to be. Behind his kind words and willingness to help, there was always this need for vengeance no matter what the slight. To Thorne, this demand that these things put on Lilith were just that. They were slights. They were threats. The same way that elephant seal was, the one that tried to slaughter everyone with the other sea creatures and who people allowed to LIVE. There was no way that he could forgive that. The thought of actually healing these creatures never crossed his mind, but now that she's brought up, he will backtrack on his words, "Unless you really wanted to. But, in truth, I can't say what I would've done unless I was there at that time."

The intensity in her words when expressing his willingness to wipe those things out may have stilled his fingers, but once those words are spoken and out of the way, his right thumb starts to gently brush over the back of her left hand. When the exorcism email comes in, that's something else that has him annoyed. "I read the damn thing. And I understand why they would choose you to be there. Erin trusts you, I don't even know if she really knows Roen. I mean /I/ don't." Not really. They've only met a small handful times and once was him giving the guy his song and dance about the upcoming festival he was holding. "If I were Erin, I'd want you there too. But, I, personally, want you nowhere near that place. I wasn't going to come out and say it... actually, I probably as going to tell you not to go. Then send a scathing message to Isabella. This... we are going to have some of the most powerful," He's not sure what to call them as a group, "individuals in one room performing something dangerous against a ghost who will do anything to stop them. I obviously, don't like it one bit."

Lilith thinks for a long moment after listening to Byron and there's a helpless quirk of smile at her lips despite herself as to what would have happened had he been there in that dream, but... it turns into a bit of a lip bite again as he confesses it's hard for him to say without being there. Because it was hard. What if that was all she had to do? What if she just had to fight the fear and heal them without help or some anchor, or even with one, just for the sake of... but no. There's too much dread and trickery about these things to ever be solid in what you choose to do when they happen, and it's no better when it's over. That and the words, the sense that they'd become something whole and unnatural if she gave them what they wanted, too. Even when they were just ash, she was afraid of the consequences.

Then he's giving his own Byron opinions about the exorcism and she watches their hands a little longer before she tilts her head to consider something said. Then she breathes out a quiet sigh that sends her shoulders into less tension and more acceptance. Whatever she was about to ask him to trade... maybe she's accepting something about it or something else about her situation, but after a moment, she nods and murmurs, "What Erin needs to be stable is paramount. I'll talk to her and August, all of us together. We'll figure it out. And you'll figure out what you need to do, where you can do it."

Mmhmm, she hadn't missed the line in the email about Byron 'looking into something' but with the text about the possibility of restoring a skeleton like an item with so many pieces intact, she assumes it's related. Granted, it wasn't the thing she was about to try and touch for a peace of mind trade, but she's leaving it or whatever he decides to sacrifice when it's time to make a sacrifice... she's letting those be so he can be his own man. And maybe she leaves it alone for the reason of still wanting to be her own woman, despite the terror and ruin caused earlier in the day that left her so much rattle and panic.

Then she's back to quiet with an audible swallow down. She hesitates for a moment, then looks at Byron with lift of her eyes from their hands once more. Then she leans in to suddenly try and kiss him, hard and gracious and desperate, without reserve. She doesn't know how many days they have left when days are like this and bleed into the other terrible days, the other terrible things they have to do, the terrible things that have happened and keep happening. But she does know what she doesn't want to miss if one of them dies a thousand tiny deaths or one final one.

Him.

If anything, Byron feels a little more put at ease now that Lilith is willing to talk it out with August and Erin. Their days were numbered, really and this part of the plan was coming up far sooner than he'd like. This is what he'll bring up now, "Once the exorcism is over and Gohl is separated from Addington, I don't know how long it's gonna take for us to do what needs to be done to put Gohl to bed once and for all. During that time those who took part in the exorcism will have a bond of sorts with the Ghoul." That much they were told, but the details never truly came up. "I don't know what that means, but it doesn't sound good. I doubt that Gohl can use them the way he did with Addington or what use was it to separate the two? So this connection must be something else and I don't want to know what Gohl can do with it, but we are going to find out."

So she'd read that part of the email and she obviously received his text. Byron asks, "Currently, we only have half of Gohl's bones. Or... most of half of them. Is that enough for you to make him whole or do we need to try and dig up more?" If that's all that she needed, then his work was done! But he knows that it can't be that easy.

It's right at this time when Lilith acts impulsively, or that's how Thorne sees it. The sudden lean in to a kiss, one that he accepts openly, despite his initial surprise and returns with the same intensity, his arms wrapping around her to pull her closely against him. His mind doesn't even link this moment to the upcoming exorcism or... all of the many other things that Lilith feels threatened by. No, his is one of passion and desire. They've both been through a lot, he knows that much, but this was their moment in the here and now and no one could take it away from them.

What starts desperate with Byron changes in form to more and more unbridled passion, the fear of rejection or rebuff abated in a hurry while the fear melts away. She's about to tell him to get her an animal skeleton to try it with in equal proportion percentage pieces, in all honesty, but she can always text that or say it when words matter again. Because words don't matter right now. Nothing else really matters right now. Lilith feels the crush of his arms around her, she feels a ticking time clock, true or not, it's warranted, she feels the heat of his mouth and his own reciprocation in earnest.

Then she gives up and gives in entirely, lost in a moment and ensuring it can't be stolen from them, in a sense. Her hand comes up to untuck the towel already a little looser on her body and suddenly, his arms are the only thing holding it lopsided with sliding slip on her skin. The woman's own arms come around his body with a hard nail rake along the back of his suit jacket and her tongue takes a turn for bold seeking and exploring, no interrupt, barely any room for breath. She's drowning in him, suddenly with that let go, drowning in Byron and what she wants before anything in the whole world can take it.

Her body shifts with the pull. The brunette's leg eventually shifts too, spreading and reaching and straddling with flex over Byron's suit pants, leaving her a large piece of skin for the man's hands to roam with the towel arrangement knocked loose. Then gasping for much needed air, she slips a hand up to his neck and shoulders to palm the nape of his neck with a hard squeeze before pulling herself into a full straddle over him while kissing incessantly, smelling like soap and skin and shampoo and so much Lilith while she breathes in the closeness with a sudden gasp. The tiny break only persists to drag his kiss over her chin, to her throat, welcoming him to the tender, pulse-throbbed pale skin with his lips and teeth to take and explore.

They've probably both imagined letting go so many different ways. But this is quickened and needy and raw desire just tumbling out of her now, no teasing or cuteness or even tender sweetness and affection. And Lilith's heart slams so hard in her baring swell of decolletage in that moment before full exposure, Byron can feel it.

If anything, the first thing that Byron will remove is that suit jacket. It's tailored to fit his frame just fine, but the heat of the moment makes the jacket feel far too constraining against his own desires, so he works to shrug it off from his shoulders once the front buttons are undone. With his arms working to rid himself of the garment, that means that his body is leaned forward to draw in her breath, his hungry mouth pressed up against hers. She might feel him struggling for a moment, juggling this need to be close and his attempts at-- oh, one arm is finally removed, making the other easier to slip out of the the jacket sleeve. The garment is haphazardly allowed to slide off from his shoulders to fall onto the floor while his hands do all the exploring that they want now. Those hands roam the length of her body, though one grips the side of one hip tightly to help her maintain balance.

This was reminiscent of how they felt each other up in high school, but they were adults now and far more experienced in things of a physical nature to some extent. The soft bristle of his beard tickles against her flesh when he drags his lips down from her mouth, to nibble at that willowy pale throat of hers before burying his face into the soft swells of her bosom through the fabric of her clothing. The air felt electric and while he had imagined this very moment in his mind since they were teenagers, everything felt so real. This wasn't a mere fantasy anymore.

It wasn't a fantasy anymore. It's entirely real, the only notable sound in the room that of their constant lips and breath at contact, the shifts of Lilith moving atop Byron, the slip and sling of his suit jacket off and away. And arguably their beating hearts because... the pulse is close to deafening for the woman, rushing in her head as she ignores the lingering pain that tries to break through the haze of what she wants and needs that very moment. It's unsuccessful. She wants him. She needs him. He wants her. He needs her. That's everything that matters, isn't it? It's not quite, but right now couldn't tell either of them anything else from the feel of it.

In fact, Lilith needs Byron to know it's not a fantasy, to daze him with reality as his face buries in her slamming reverb of heart there at the swelling push of her breasts under the towel and abruptly, she gives it the tug it needs to come away with free hand, the other still hard at the nape of the man's neck. It's a bit like she's trying to keep him there, lips at hers, then lips at skin afterwards, He can't be ripped apart and away and she can't hide like this. Especially not when she's bared skin in full with the slipping fall of the fabric just barely containing her modesty in some degree.

When her body is bared to his hands and lips in full, she falls back into a lean with one of her hands coming to rest back against his thigh, the other keeping the reach hold to the back of his neck. And it dips his mouth lower, between the breasts at the sternum, gasping again small for air before her eyes come up to meet his with pull of her head up. Then Lilith gives him a time to appraise her presented for viewing in passionate thrall with all bared body for him him him.

It's a point to turn around or decide what can't be undone.

Her eyes, the blue of them is darker, edgier, that rare shade that comes with anger comes out of her in heat and passion too. Once she's made eye contact to let him know she's damn decided, she's on him with forward leaning. One hand reaches hastily for the buckle of his belt, that other at the nape of his neck finally moves to loosen his tie so she can get under the collar for kisses at his own throat with following pop of buttons, teeth dragging the side of his adam's apple.

Then finally, finally, finally, she speaks, "Need me like I need you." It's all she seems to want. Because this is right now. She just needs to know it, feel it, hear it, and believe it. It seemed so damned impossible for so long.

There was something surreal about this moment. Just downstairs was a burnt out office, the stench of ash and soot pricks at his nostrils during those few moments when Byron isn't breathing in the delicate perfume of her shampoo blended with the fresh scent of newly bathed skin. After the towel slips away, exposing her in full to him, this only makes his hunger rise. They both were being driven by an intense passion that had burned for over a decade, despite their time apart and the separate lives that they had lived. Feeling that pulsating beat of her heart against his ear, he gives her soft flesh a few gentle nips of his teeth.

It's when she withdraws just so he can marvel on this woman who that young girl grew up into, that it stirs up his more playful side, casting this devilish look in his eyes followed by the faintest of grins. One of his hands is already working to undo his tie, only to be joined in the process by one of hers. It helps to move things along far quicker to work in time with the lustful heat of his own body. With his tie undone, draping loosely over his shoulders, those first few buttons of his shirt having been sprung he leans in close with the support of one hand beside her head on the couch, the other tugging at the fabric of his pants once he's unbuttoned and unzipped there. Staring deeply into her eyes, it's as if he's staring deeply into her soul. While he may have seen the things which she had done in Miami, with the piece of cord that she'd given him to read, she was here now. This wasn't some emotional residue or a memory.

His mouth on hers, so hot and heavy, it takes a while to register her words with he's overcome by this need to finally have her, his own body making up for lost time in this passion-filled rush of emotions and desires and everything that should have happened years ago between them. Against her lips, she can hear and feel his murmurs, "I've always needed you."

It was inevitable, maybe, from the second she sent that text in spring. It was even more inevitable, perhaps, the second they started suffering and living as each other's support and comfort and familiar anchors through a whole lot of bad, just as it was once upon a time, not just when they were children, but when they were becoming so much more than either of them ever expected to become. There was heat and drowning in each other then, but like this, it's so much more, the stakes are so much more, their bodies and time's damages, they're... So. Much. More.

It was the most inevitable the moment their lips decided to meet in those spaced out moments of falling into what was no longer worth resisting-- slip and surrender, straight into salvation.

Lilith's mouth is fire and heat with the writhe of her body and the matching outpour of Byron's passion, all motion and desperation as they shift with the pieces of his restricting garments loosening, coming off, peeling partially away to give her skin for her skin. It meshes their pulse through the flush of passion rising with occasional goosebumps to the touches and consuming kisses. And it's not beautiful and pretty with storybook lovemaking when they're finally joined as one after the initial moment of relish and intense prolonged eye contact that precedes it.

It's raw, gripping, and neither of them might be able to say how long it actually took. But when once isn't enough, it's not hard to finish getting out what didn't come out the first time around in much the same way. And while the first time interludes with a breather of clutching in shiver of body lacing to let it sink in with silence, the second round winds and brings satiation and exhaustion alike.

The sex may have been a bit desperate and driven to release years of what was pent up. But when they're catching their breath and he starts to pet her hair until sleep takes her, she's fingers dragging through his own dark strands in tandem timing. They need each other. It's all that matters. And for a while, when everything is floating, it's easy to breathe like the world isn't terrible at all.