Castles
. .
(they catch each other by chance. - yuri and rita, rebuilding)
disclaimed.
.
.
They catch each other, by chance, in Dahngrest.
It is the first time they have seen each other in years; she is taller, now, beautiful instead of pretty, hair slipping past her collarbones and freckles splattered across her fair skin, and he - he is the same. Dark-haired and mischievous, his smile stretching all the way across his face, eyes glinting with the prospect of a challenge. When they see each other, they pause, take the other in, study them. They find the changes and the similarities and remember them.
The first thing she says to him is - "You look like shit."
He says, "Good to see you, too."
. .
"Brave Vesperia," she breathes, laughing to herself. She swirls her glass and the amber liquid inside moves, becomes a small whirlpool and then ripples, evening out. "I can't believe you actually made something of yourselves." She lifts her gaze, meets his, "I hear about you all the time. Everywhere I go, that name crops up. It's - funny, actually. Makes me say 'I should visit them', but I never do." She pauses, mouth set into a straight line, brow furrowed in thought. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. You already know."
Yuri studies her, gaze flickering over her entire face and down to her tense shoulders, her fidgeting hands. "You can visit whenever you want," he says steadily, "We're always happy to see an old friend." He lifts his drink and downs it in one go, sets it on the table with a small thunk. She stares at the imprint his lips made on the glass, watches it until it disappears.
"You're - the same." Rita laughs again, quietly. "You'll be the same when you're one hundred years old." Yuri smiles thinly, and thinks that she's - different.
He wonders, belatedly, why she grew up to be so bitter.
. .
"Do you want to - ?"
She has cat eyes and this devilish little smile and Yuri can't - say yes, but he doesn't say no. When they are alone, in Arcturus, he presses her back into the wall and holds her wrists above her head. She breathes unevenly and he towers over her, casts a long shadow over her pale skin. He is so close to her that he can see the physical rise and fall of her chest, can smell the alcohol on her breath, and she is beautiful - ripe and young and whimpering under his dark gaze. He brushes his lips over her high cheekbones, kisses down and across her jaw, sucks a bruise into her neck and calls her lovely.
"You're so - " she stumbles over her words, tilts her head back, "You're such a bastard," she hisses, her body tensing under his shadow, under his mouth and fingertips and the fabric of his shirt. He pulls back, smirks, and when he kisses her lips she trembles, whole body begging for more, for the touch of his calloused hands over her skin, for his teeth on her tongue, for too much and too little and never enough.
"What do you want?" He asks, hands creeping up her thighs, "What do you - need?"
There is a seriousness in this question that Rita latches onto, somewhere in the corners of her static mind, but then he touches her - there, and she sees lights and stars supernovas behind her eyelids and she feels like, if she answered the question, he wouldn't take her seriously.
. .
Maybe it is stupid, to leave him a note, but she presses one into his empty palm in the morning. His fingers curl around the ripped page in his sleep, centering it in his heart line. She thinks, briefly, that it could mean something and then finds herself leaving. Estelle would say that she is protecting herself, Yuri would say she was - running. He shifts when she opens the door to leave, dreaming, and Rita pauses to watch him, to keep something that isn't hers for just a moment longer.
She heads for Halure, thinking the walk is much, much longer now that she is alone.
. .
"You look so different," Estelle says to her with a bewildered smile after opening the door to her quiet home. It is small in comparison to the extravagant castle in Zaphias, quaint, and - achingly reminiscent to Rita's old home in Aspio. Rita shrugs off her cloak, drapes it over the rack near the door. There are full bookcases on the far wall, a stone fireplace, papers spread haphazardly over the mahogany table in the kitchen. Estelle blushes, embarrassed, and apologizes for the mess. "I wasn't expecting company. You should have written."
"It was sort of on a whim," Rita says, lowering herself into a ruby armchair near the fireplace. "How - how are you?" She asks, unsure what to say. She feels so disconnected from Estelle, far away. It has been too long, she knows, but she never thought - that it would feel like this. Like she has lost something very precious to her.
Estelle lifts herself to her full height, linking her fingers together in front of her, and gazes at Rita, stares at her as though she hardly recognizes her. Rita feels herself flushing, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. When Estelle looks at her, she actually looks through her, studies her like a page in one of her books. Rita - hates it. Hates that she cannot hide anything from Estelle, even when so much time has passed by.
"I used to write you letters," Estelle finally tells her, eyes shimmering, "Did you ever get them?"
Rita numbly nods her head. Estelle exhales, her shoulders drooping, and tilts her chin downwards, so that she is looking at the ground instead of at Rita.
"I'm glad," she says, "I wish you would've written back. So I'd have known you were alright." She hesitates, lifting her head to look Rita straight in the eye. "What brings you here? After all this time? I'm - so happy to see you."
"I think I, " Rita swallows, feeling sick to her stomach, "ruined something that meant a lot to me." She is shaking, tears springing into her eyes. "Damn it, Estelle, I'm only here because I'm so - so selfish." She cries, then, sobs into her palms. Estelle runs to her, hugs her close to her chest and tells her that it's going to be alright in a whisper.
. .
"Yuri?" Judith asks. Her voice is soft around the edges, liquid warm. "Are you alright? You seem distant."
Yuri distances himself from her, presses his back against the wall and sighs. "I - " he says, then cuts himself off. He protectively clutches the note in his hands, smudges the ink until the words are nearly unreadable. He'll look at it later and he'll know exactly what it says, will remember even when the words have faded to nothing but a memory. "I'm fine," he breathes, closing his eyes.
"You don't look fine," Judith responds, "You look very - sad."
"Yeah?" Yuri says, crossing his arms over his chest. He exhales deeply, shoulders dropping, "Yeah, I guess I am."
Judith studies him for a long moment. "Whatever you've done, Yuri," she begins softly, "it would be good of you to fix it."
. .
He isn't sure how he knows she'll be there, in Halure, but he finds her under the tree, watching the petals flutter to the ground around her ankles.
"Just as beautiful as I remember," Yuri says, and maybe he's saying it about the blossoms, but maybe - he isn't. She spins to face him, hair whipping in front of her eyes, and she pushes it away, stares at him like she can't quite believe he's there. "I had a feeling you might be here," he tells her.
"Am I that predictable?" Rita asks, voice wavering. She's trying to be strong, aloof, but she really wants to be weak, wants to be childish and yell and cry and believe in something that she shouldn't believe in.
"I don't think so." Yuri turns to watch the petals of the tree, to count years. "Estelle says that, now, people will come up to the tree and leave notes to the tree, asking for luck in love. Have you heard of that?" He doesn't look at Rita but sees her shake her head from the corner of his eye. "I thought I'd come up here and leave one." He pulls the note Rita left for him from his pocket, holds in gingerly in his fingers.
"Is that - ?" Rita starts, taking a hesitant step forward.
"Forgive me," Yuri reads, and Rita stops, takes a steadying breath. Yuri smiles a little sadly. "That's my line." He takes a step forward and crouches down, breaking the ground's surface with his fingers and making a hole. He presses her note into the dirt and buries it. "Rita - " He stands, brushes the dirt from his fingers. He breathes in and out, searching for the right words.
"Don't," Rita says, voice shaking. She laughs, breathless and dizzy, tries to steady herself when she feels that the breeze could knock her over.
Yuri starts towards her, towers over her and his shadow is - safe. He brushes hair from her face and leans forward, searching for her skin, and Rita presses close to him, kisses him fiercely, like she's angry or excited or sad or nervous or like she's gone mad, absolutely mad, with passion.
"We - I want to be with you," Rita breathes against his lips, against his electric tongue, "I don't want to be without you, I want to be - selfish."
Yuri smiles into their kiss, eyes alight with the prospect of - a challenge. "You haven't changed at all," he says, like he's proud.