Forgoing his usual walk, Suzaku accidentally fell asleep outside in the sun. His time in Ireland had largely been marked by quiet sunshine and soft clouds, so he was taken off guard when the overcast skies gave way to hard sun during his impromptu nap. He'd folded himself on the hard bench by the rear gardens, crossing his arms and tipping the hat he'd worn in Galway down until the bill shaded his eyes. He dreamed of broken glass and bent needles, beautiful lilies that became stained with blood.
The enduring sense of unease and phantom pain nudged Suzaku awake, and he had to resist the urge to rub at the lingering ache in his shoulder and arm. It wasn't the unpleasant dreams that pushed him into alertness, though. It took a moment for him to gain his bearings, the easy drift of this place dulling his ability to awaken immediately and completely. But Suzaku quickly identified the haunting noise that trembled through the air and tugged him awake – Aurora was singing.
It wasn't like the song from a few days ago in the kitchen; there was no wild joy or silly fun today. She was unaccompanied, the only melody the one crafted by her voice, lovely and powerful and sorrowful. Still slightly addled by the bitter tang of his dream, it took Suzaku a moment to comprehend the words, to realize that she sang a dirge, a bitter old folk song about an executed man and the love he left behind only too eager to follow where he'd gone without her. Slowly sitting up and righting his hat, Suzaku stood, following the soft velvet of Aurora's song to where she knelt amongst the flowers.
Her hair was neatly braided and gilded by the bright, nearly brutal sun. Already grubbied with soil, her hands patted and pulled, weeded and worked, her eyes seeing something far beyond the blooms in her palms. She crooned to the flowers, gently touching their petals once they were cared for. Hooking his hands in his pockets, Suzaku listened to her sing her mournful song while she babied the blooms. Her last vibrating notes rippled through the balmy air, and she finally looked up at him, her eyes warm and a little wet.
"That was beautiful," he finally murmured, surprised by how affected he was by a simple song. Aurora's mouth crooked, her luminous eyes dropping back down to the red, blue, and purple flowers.
"Thanks. That was George's favorite song. He loved the irony of it."
Moving slowly, his joints protesting as he folded his legs, Suzaku sat down next to her among the flowers, watching the way her clever hands nurtured.
"Do you always sing to your flowers?" he asked with a note of humor, trying to glean a laugh out of her. For some bizarre reason, despite the half-smile on her face and the soothing activity, Suzaku got the sense that Aurora was in pain.
"Sometimes. But I don't sing about the tree except on the day of the year that George died."
That silenced Suzaku more effectively than if she'd slapped him. He looked at her with a pained sort of awe. How could she tend to flowers and sing gentle songs on the anniversary of the day that had nearly destroyed her? She'd told Suzaku that losing George had nearly been the loss of herself, yet she spoke with self-possession, moved with a grace more quiet than her typical cadence.
"I…" God, he wanted to apologize, to give her anything to validate her mourning. But she just flashed that half-smile again before glancing at him out of the corner of her eye with a small shake of her head.
"It's alright, Suzaku. It was a long time ago." She glanced at the house, the sky, before returning her eyes to her work. "I do it for him, but also for me, too. For a while, all I wanted was to forget, to get a revenge that would erase my helplessness. But that didn't work." Her tone was ironic, even though Suzaku could keenly understand what she meant. "So the only way I could survive the grief was to mourn, and move on," Aurora said with a shrug. "Singing his favorite song on the anniversary is a way to do both, I suppose. At first, it was sort of like pissing out a house fire. But, as time went on and I kept trying, it got easier. Now, well… it's nice." Settling back on her haunches, she glanced over at him, the silver in her eyes softening as she flicked a fingertip over his chin.
"You fell asleep outside, didn't you? Your chin is sunburned." Now that she mentioned it, Suzaku noticed a faint prickling along the skin of his chin and jaw. Cautiously running his palm along his stubble, he winced at the faint sting against his skin at the drag.
"I suppose I did." His small, twisted smile faded into wide-eyed stillness when Aurora reached back up and gently twirled her fingers into the hair curling behind his ear.
"You've got some gold in your hair from the sun. You're looking good, Suzaku."
Anything would be better, he was sure, than the pale, gaunt, hollow-eyed ghost he'd become over the past few years. He felt heat that had nothing to do with the sun tickle his cheekbones, and ducked his eyes, completely incapable of accepting her compliment. Aurora tugged at the lock of hair still woven between her fingertips, forcing him to meet her eyes again.
"I mean it. You've come a long way from death's door, Suzaku. You should be proud of that. It matters."
"To you more than most," he said quietly. She just rolled her eyes with a tiny smile as she returned her hand to her lap.
"Yeah, well." Bracing against her knees, Aurora stood, dusting her hands off against her equally grubby jeans before knocking her braid over her shoulder with the back of her hand. As she stepped around him, Aurora lightly trailed her fingertips over his shoulder, leaving a whisper of electric heat in the wake of her touch. Watching as she walked to the back of the house, Suzaku waited until the kitchen door closed with a bang before turning his eyes forward to the middle distance, propping his chin on his folded fingers. He thought about a beautiful woman mourning the dead even as she cherished the living. It was an incredible dichotomy that he hadn't even thought was possible, certainly never for himself. But her quiet song almost made him want to try.
He was finishing his breakfast when Aurora trotted down the stairs Thursday morning, Ban following her like a clumsy shadow. Instead of her usual uniform of jeans, a tank top, and a button-down shirt, she wore dark gray jogging pants and a ratty sky blue t-shirt that reminded "Just remember if we get caught, I'm deaf and you don't speak Standard." Almost snorting his juice as she finished tying back her hair, it dawned on Suzaku as she tapped the toe of her frankly impressive black running shoes against the floor that she was going jogging. A fizzle of envy suddenly lit the itch of restlessness that had been burrowing under his skin for days into a scorching need, and Suzaku wanted to join her more than he had ever wanted heroin.
Leaping to his feet with enough force to nearly topple his almost empty glass, the clatter of silverware succeeded in getting Aurora's wide-eyed attention from filling a water bottle as Suzaku's brain raced to think of a way to convince her that he could manage a run. When nothing eloquent came to mind, he simply asked.
"You're going running, right? Can I come with you?"
Aurora's quicksilver eyes narrowed in consideration at his almost breathlessly eager question as she tilted her head, and Suzaku was positive that she was going to say no. He considered, and dismissed, argument after argument, mostly because he'd already used them all.
"OK. You can break in your running shoes. Not the ones with the red on them – grab the all-black ones."
Suzaku was thundering up the stairs before she finished speaking. Less than a hundred seconds passed before he joined her again in the kitchen in the specified shoes, black, green-piped sweatpants, and a t-shirt the color of blood. His brace peeked out from under the edge of his left sleeve, and he slipped sunglasses on, since the sun was warm and tricky today. She just smiled, and jerked her head in the direction of the door, Ban noodling after them like a furry eel.
Since he didn't know the terrain, Suzaku followed Aurora's lead. They used a straight hike up the hill behind the house to warm up, going through some cursory stretches at the top before setting off. Almost immediately, Suzaku strained against her pace. It was easy, almost lazy, and his blood burned for more, even as he keyed into her movements. Because he'd forgotten how much he liked this.
The healthy pounding of his feet against the ground, the stretch and glide of warming muscles, the thorough beat of his blood. It felt like everything in him was waking the hell up. Suzaku had run in the past; as a kid to gain endurance to Todoh's standards, as a recruit just to survive, as a knight to keep him at peak fighting shape, and as Zero to keep him from losing his mind. But he realized now that when the heroin had taken the edge off his pain, it had completely ground the edge off his drive.
Suzaku frowned as he realized to the thud of footsteps that the heroin hadn't just killed the hurt in him – it had killed the fight in him, as well. And wasn't that what he was, down at his very core? He fought, so that others wouldn't have to. Somewhere along the way, through all the lies and loss and downright fucking insanity, he'd lost that truth. Odd that now, jogging at Aurora's side in the Irish sunshine, he got it back.
And wasn't that magnificent? If he was being honest, everything was. Suzaku couldn't ask for more stunning terrain, jogging partners, or head space. Even the warm weather was gorgeous, the sun peeking in and out behind ivory clouds that looked like they'd been daubed onto the canvas of the sky with an angular sable brush. Eager notes scrawled through his brain about how he could reproduce this, and maybe finally tap into the acrylic and oil paints that still intimidated him. Bannock loped beside them, occasionally arrowing off to investigate whatever it was the dog deemed irresistible before returning to their sides with a long, elastic gait. Even running, Aurora was elegant, her movements balletic and her stride easily as long as his. It was perfect.
For about ten minutes.
He didn't even know how far they had gotten before the cramps started up and his breaths got shorter and shorter. The blood singing through Suzaku's veins started to burn, and he had to grit his teeth as he adjusted the tempo of his inhales to alleviate a snarling stitch in his side, to no avail. Almost, immediately, without a word or whimper from him, Aurora dropped to a walk. Suzaku wanted to protest – after all, they'd only just started! But when he couldn't even get enough air to complain, maybe he was better off throttling back.
Finally, Aurora stopped walking, and Suzaku braced his hands against his knees, panting hard enough to rock his entire frame.
"I used… to be able to run… five miles in under… twenty five minutes," he bitterly muttered between his gasps.
"And I used to be able to play Pagini's 24 Caprices. Things change."
He felt a companionable nudge against his shoulder by her elbow, and looked over in time to see Aurora fold down to sit in the grass with her legs crossed, leisurely drinking from the water bottle before offering it to him. Straightening cautiously, glad to feel the stitch under his ribs fading, Suzaku guzzled the water, dropping down next to her. As he started to recover, he felt his brows rise, finally comprehending her comparison. The 24 Caprices were a notoriously difficult classical violin piece which, though he didn't prefer the work himself, Suzaku could nonetheless appreciate the difficultly of playing such a frantic, oscillating work.
"It doesn't seem like your sort of piece," Suzaku said, idly rolling his ankles as his muscles were re-oxygenated and his heart rate slowed.
"God, it's not. But I had to learn it for a job. My violin tutor was a sadist, and loved watching me suffer. Six solid weeks of hearing her snarl about my finger placement."
Out of the corner of his eye, Suzaku could see Aurora flex and roll her left fingers and wrist. His mouth quirked at the scowl on Aurora's face. It cleared, though, as she turned to him, slowly running her palms down the outsides of her thighs, over her knees, along her calves before circling her fingers around her ankles and rubbing.
"Talents come and go. I wasn't sad to see the Caprices slide from my repertoire, but we can get your frankly killer five mile time back. Should be fun." Aurora sent him a bright grin that made a small knot in his chest loosen. He turned away, though, and picked at the sticker on the water bottle.
"You should keep going, Aurora. I feel awful cutting down your run so much just because I'm way out of it. I didn't… I didn't think it'd be so bad," he said quietly, aching at the truth of it. Plucking the water bottle out of his fingers, Aurora took another drink before depositing it back in his hands, as if reminding him what the device was actually for. Her brows undulated, and Suzaku couldn't tell if she was teasing or irritated.
"I'm not exactly at the top of my game, either. And I don't mind. Honestly, you got a lot farther than I thought you would. Teaches me to underestimate you."
Suzaku loosed a low, hard bark.
"Not much to underestimate."
Aurora flicked his ear, pointing at him, her coffee-colored brows raised in warning.
"Hey. Be nice."
Suzaku couldn't help the smile at her fierce expression.
"Yes, ma'am." His answering retort was more rote than snotty, but Aurora seemed satisfied. She leaned back against her palms, tilting her head back to squint at the sky. Even though he couldn't copy her stance, Suzaku followed her lead, letting his eyes trail over the sky and landscape. Ban eventually collapsed at their feet, ears back and eyes half-closed as he contentedly panted. The trio sat, quiet and content, long enough for the sweat to dry on their skin.
Then, Aurora burst into activity, pulling her long, limber muscles into a few perfunctory stretches before turning her attention to Suzaku. It didn't take him long to realize that his physical therapy session had simply been transposed outside. The usual tugs and pulls, rotations and clenches, were actually slightly less painful after his muscles had been exerted.
However, this instance provided one distinctly unique aspect. Sitting on the ground again, Suzaku had his eyes closed and his head dipped forward, breathing deeply through the residual burn of the exercises, when suddenly, Aurora's thumbs slowly dug into the base of his neck. His eyes flashing open as he instinctively tensed, Aurora pressed her palm against his spine between his shoulder blades.
"Relax, Suzaku. Just smoothing out a little tension."
Swallowing, Suzaku struggled to obey. Aurora's fingers, dexterous enough to coax the most difficult of notes out of a violin, gentle enough to care for delicate flowers, stroked and smoothed his back, firm enough to push the underlying muscle into submission. She paid considerable attention to his neck and shoulders, the pressure halved on his injured side. When she ran her palms over his deltoids and down his biceps, the touch was strong on the right, butterfly soft on the left. Eventually the focus turned to his spine and ribs, working out the last of the bruises, digging at a stubborn knot under his left shoulder blade as she diminished the strain of the muscles encasing his ribcage.
Aurora had to continually remind him to breathe – initially, he was perplexed into stillness. No one had ever touched him like this in his life; strong, smooth, comforting, and soothing. Aurora's faintly medicinal demeanor kept Suzaku's brain from swinging into that awkward direction it seemed magnetized to these days, but still, it was just… foreign. Then, he was so relaxed, he all but forgot to inhale deeply like he was supposed to, slipping into the shallow breaths of near-sleep. Suzaku felt like he was melting; seeping into the ground through the sieve of his bones, his breath almost liquid in his lungs, his blood turning sluggish and soft under the press of her hands.
Ban barked, just frenetic enough to have Suzaku slowly lifting one eyelid. Aurora pressed one last stroke to the base of his spine before patting his uninjured shoulder. He could hear the rustle of her standing, managing to pry the other eyelid open in time to see her rub Ban's ears, murmuring as she looked out to whatever had caught his attention. There was something about the way she stood, fingers hooked on her jaunted hip while she rubbed her knuckles against Ban's ear, the breeze catching the strands of hair that fell against her temples and the nape of her neck. He wasn't the only one who'd gotten sun – Aurora had as well, turning her skin more gold than his usual bronze. Her eyes were quick as they scanned the horizon, the gray softening what could be hard-edged cobalt. Her inattention gave Suzaku the chance to just… look at her.
She was so lovely. Natural and soft and strong. There wasn't a trace of make-up on her skin, her lashes their native bistre color. The only adjustment to her appearance was the tie holding back the fall of her leonine hair, curling slightly at the ends near her shoulder blades. Her loose, comfortable clothing masked slim curves, and impressive strength. The combination of it all was captivating. Aurora was just so different from Euphie, that it was a little too easy to fall into admiring her.
Catching himself before he lazily slid anymore into that forbidden territory, Suzaku slowly pushed himself to his feet, forced to take time to allow his muscles and joints the chance to readjust. The movement caught Aurora's attention, and she glanced over her shoulder with a grin.
"Ban's just getting territorial about a neighbor's herding dog. Ready to head back?"
"Sure," Suzaku agreed. But back to what, exactly? That was the question, and he had yet to find a satisfactory answer.
Admiration, huh, Suzaku? Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.
Here's a short, sweet little chapter about basically a couple days in the life of Aurora and Suzaku. I am by no means a runner, but Mr. Exercise Nut and the Lady Lightning Bolt seem like the type enjoy it. For those like myself who only run when something's on fire, the world record for 8 km (approx. 5 miles) for men is 21 min. So Suzaku's time is balla fast.
Suzaku happens upon the crux of Aurora's design in this chapter. Like when I purchased my second horse, I was aiming for a character as different from its predecessor as possible. No stepped-on toes, no disrespect, and a chance for an entirely new attachment and journey. The last thing I wanted was a Euphie (or Tango) v. 2.
Review, review!
Hope you like it!
Love, Tango