My good friends in the WxC fan club.. Please forgive me. You may want to pour a circle of salt around your laptop to exorcise the daemons or whatever, but ah.. I think it's quite cute actually and *points accusingly* TTigerz does too: she caused this chapter!
BTW please read her newest story - a nice darkfic in which I am not so patiently waiting for the next chapter of. It's very well written and Cornelia is a beast! My favourite character (yes, I just said that about her fiction) :D
Cornelia had heard the footsteps; not those of the early birds passing by, but those far more defined, familiar and prominent to her. One, slim hand thumbing the other's knuckles, softly kneading as shivers of tension ran like an undetected row of fingers trailing the contours of her pale skin; the light glaring accusingly at her for hiding such a pretty thing as her face, but Cornelia had lost the ability to see herself and not share some form of resentment with at least what her appearance stood for. "I.. If I told you, I'd be betraying everyone."
"Cornelia.." Except her perfect reflection of image. Cool Naples Maize of yellow platinum slid in poker straight lines over a tint of rose that balanced her proportionate cheekbones. His shadow fell around her, making it's way to cloud her front in vague darkness before coarse fingertips grazed a perfect velvet; dirtying the precious face her mother had brought up instead of a daughter, Cornelia's instinct was naturally to bite her lip, but someone else came to mind and she remembered herself to press her lips firmly, instead together. It certainly was in no way dainty enough for her to ever bite or scratch or raise her voice; not that she had a voice as of current. And one thing that no one had ever cared to hold back from saying; she was an ugly crier so Cornelia refused to cry. She wasn't meant to be feeling overwhelmed by what was happening to Will: she could, at least, convince herself that she wasn't Will.
Lips that were clumsy with inexperience and unsurety, as well as the boyishness of simply wanting to make her better, pressed themselves in far too misplaced a position; the unknown placement that was by no means her cheek; the very right of his lips even meeting at the corner with her own mouth. Why couldn't she convince herself she wasn't his?
"Cornelia-" She'd braced herself in the moment he'd moved just a fragment away; her eyelids closing over though they'd never allowed her the audacity to face him at this time. She could smell something of man as her lips pressed against his - denying her the right to her own morality, her mind faded away with it's screaming of Will. Cornelia, at this moment, could only will that, at this moment..he would kiss her back. A part of her almost believed enough to push herself further; closer, his fingers curling up the side of her face and his thumb firmly taking it's position. Except, he'd put it next to her mouth to push her back - far more purposefully than the last occurrence, in which she'd been assuming and he'd panicked screeching something of the kiss being stolen from him. Her stomach boiled as people frittered past, fully unknowing: the party led them right past this corridor in the shade of the building. His forehead rested on hers, and it was funny the way that Cornelia's mind had taken. Instead of noting that she wanted to have him lean his lips once again more closely.. Instead of noting that the boy seemed terribly hot in the head.. It had become like this, every gesture he made that made her heart pound. Cornelia could only make a self note that Will would be far more concerned about whether he had a fever; that Cornelia had no business questioning the slight rasp to his tone. Maybe it was just because he was whispering. "Cornelia, I'm sorry I ever led you.. You're not Will."
If she could have chosen, the metaphorical knife would have long been discarded; she'd much rather truly have her heart being lunged into fiercely. By a stranger. They could run the blade down her face. Pull off all the riches in her clothes and undermine her, naked on the street because she hadn't fallen in love with someone else; she felt as though she'd become someone else and Will so happened to be in love. It was in that respect and that respect alone: Caleb was far more leading when he pushed her away.
If he'd kissed her back he would've just been a clumsy rat who'd cheated on his supposed heart's need.
Two kisses instead led back up her cheek, as he pushed her back into some zone of friendship; her heart only locking firmly to his with words she was never to fully understand. "I'll always miss you though."
Perhaps he knew that she was only playing some half-decent act of his Will now.
...
There had, by no means, been any intention for Caleb - he could hear the trickle of chitter growing as more youths and adolescents ventured past him and the leader of the official party committee (Cornelia, Caleb knew, had volunteered just the day before because she'd been desperate for anything for Will) - to say Goodbye.
But he found something of her inability to waver in regality, despite the fact that Cornelia wavered between -for whatever reason- Will and himself, as a reason to permit her. He feared Cornelia's sanity, if someone didn't remind her that it was not because of her 'high places' that she had friends. She was a deeply beautiful person. Cornelia would need to find out for herself that it was she who was caring so tremendously. He couldn't figure out who, but she seemed to think on some level that someone else was playing the dark cards she was being dealt with.
