[ evidently, even though he doesn't think to give her the chance to preen beneath a yeah, it is. it's nice to be needed, even if it's just for coffee — for a joke. he doubts she'll call him for another, or even try and find out where it is he works. he wouldn't want to drink anything he makes, either. for now, though, he'd felt needed and useful in a city where he doubts o will really need him anymore to be her big brother. ]
[ if she's going to joke, he's going to joke. but he's not going to press his cheek into the cushion to look at her to do so. instead, he looks up at the ceiling, arching his back slightly. he still remains slouched, proper posture going to hell. ] And how many people have you honoured with delivering you free coffee?
[How is his back doing the thing, a mystery on your tv screen tonight. She looks at him, considers the question and the way it's worded and doesn't make a deal out of the answer.]
To my place? One. [Because hey, she hasn't said yes to a question that started with 'do you want to try this food/drink' yet, but where she lives is something only a select few know. And so far, only a select one has been her delivery boy here.]
[ he looks at her then. it's like any attempt he makes on trying to encourage her to tease the hell out of him or posture herself as someone who has about ten boys lined up to bring her better coffee isn't something she wants to latch onto. he doesn't know what he thinks about it. he doesn't really know what to think about her response, feeling as though she's responding to something else. ]
Lucky me. [ it may be a monotonous response, but if he reads into it like he doesn't want to — he guesses he is lucky. he stares at her for a quick moment before he looks away, voice shifting as he jokes, ] Unlucky for you. Any coffee I make would kill you.
[ he watches her, eyes following her until he figures out where she's going. he sits up properly, feet against the floor, as he leans his elbows against his legs. ] Not sure if I want to spend my days learning how to make coffee when I could stop being such a lousy shot. [ he turns his head to look at her, before letting his gaze move to anything that isn't her. ] There's more important things to learn.
[ coffee making is probably easy, but bellamy doesn't like it. it's not enjoyable, taking orders from people, even if it's just something ridiculous like putting cream in a hot drink. it's easy money for sure, but it's not how he wants to spend his days if he can help it. raven's found where she belongs, with grease on her face looking like she's meant to be the girl working on all the weird crap he doesn't understand. he just feels misplaced, except for when he's in her company. ]
[She comes back in time to shrug, like what he's offering up here isn't an actual problem.] So do that. There's time, nobody's chasing you with a sword, learn new things.
[ it comes off as a problem to him. he's always listening to other people's orders, nudged in the direction they want him to go. he isn't so sure if he had wanted to be on the guard, or if it had been his mother simply pushing him to aspire to be something else. ]
[ it's such a simple solution, but it's one that bellamy finds difficult to grasp. he's always been octavia's older brother, the guy who shot chancellor jaha, the more aggressive leader. he'd been following clarke's lead for a while now that he isn't so sure what to do without the push and pull that once provided. ]
[ the easiest way to deal with what she's saying is to make a bit of a joke about it. he looks at her, amused, ] Some people do have swords here, Raven.
[ bellamy arches his brow. he's self-aware enough to know that he gives almost anyone a reason to chase after him with a sword. he's giving her a good one right now. ]
When I leave here, I'll get right on it. [ by his tone, bellamy blake's not changing his ways of being exasperating. but, given he's being purposefully obtuse, maybe he'll try and do that whole striving to achieve his dreams thing. ]
[ he finds himself wanting to change the focus from him, just like she'd done so before. it's leaving him uncomfortable, being encouraged to do what he wants, especially by someone who doesn't really owe him that sort of thing. he doesn't know where to begin, let alone what he really wants, and so he doesn't wish to speak of it at all, worried he'll be placed on the spot if he does. ]
[ he remains as he is, elbows digging into his thighs. ] You got any plans for the rest of the day?
[It's a damn shame she doesn't have a sword, then. She sighs, and that's her response to his dry smart-ass response.
But the question, that one has no actual answer. She shrugs, because truth be told she would've fiddled with something just to make time pass, because being surrounded by people and sleeping so close to someone else's tent you can practically hear their snores in stereo only means the silence and emptiness of this apartment, however hers it is, gets bigger towards each evening.
[ it's a good thing he's watching her so he catches the shrug. he guesses she's got a blank day like him, even though he thought about returning to the museum, maybe watching the sun set on the beach, or just taking a walk around the city while knowing he wasn't going to be attacked by reapers or grounders or mountain men. it's weird, having time. ]
[ it'd be easy for him to leave and continue his day, making sure the things he wants to do get crossed off his list, but bellamy doesn't make a move to get up. he leans back against the couch, slouching once more against it. he breathes out, ] Yeah, me neither. [ he can do all that boring, solo crap by himself tomorrow, on a day where he has no plans or spontaneous phone messages asking him to tell a story that requires him to be in person. ]
[ maybe she didn't want to see him. but he can't tell the story about cerberus over text. it's not really satisfying for him that way, being forced to miss out on all her reactions. ]
[She wanted to, but it doesn't mean she's going to say it out loud. The company was specifically chosen; just like that night in his tent, she specifically chose him. And it could've been someone else, but the fact that it isn't is something she's going to skirt around.
He gets comfortable, taking up half her space, and she decides that fuck it, so will she. Get comfortable in this case means to sit back down and bring her right leg up in his lap. You know, whatever. She slouches too, leaning her head back against the armrest of the couch.]
[ bellamy should expect it, but, raven's kind of unpredictable to him. she places her good leg on his lap and he doesn't feel any desire to shove it off. he just looks down at her leg, confirming it's the weight in his lap, before he looks to her. ]
[ it isn't on purpose he doesn't touch her. his hands remain at his sides on the couch for now. ]
[ he thinks over her question with a soft smile and a bow of his head, as if maybe the floor can give him an answer. the stories he has latched onto as a kid had been the depressing ones, but that isn't all he knows. he looks up at her, ] No. There's a few happy endings in there. They just don't really belong to the big characters in the mythology.
Ha. [There's a dry little laugh, because she can see the irony there even without him saying it. She might not have read books beyond the coursework for zero-g back on the Ark, but she gets the way analogies work.]
A universe where the big characters are assholes and the little guys get the happy endings but none of the glory. [She rests her hands on her stomach for now, staring down at her leg in his lap.] Glory's fucked up if all it gets you is pain, anyway.
[ he's well-aware she's looking at her leg, maybe referring to the loss of her other one as being the price for trying to attain glory. raven may think herself to be a little character in the mythology of the ark people, but where clarke is often the one to challenge him, raven had steered him and given him a path to run along when he had needed it most. ]
[ there's glory to be found in being the little guy. it may not get someone a golden apple at the end of the day, but there's something. ]
Remind me to tell you the story of Psyche. Little fish in a sea of sharks, but I think she got the happiest story of them all.
[Like she said it once, there's nothing great in being a king or a princess. But if there's nothing great in being a pawn, either, which part is left that could satisfy? She squeezes her eyes shut, then looks up at him.]
[ and bellamy is more than happy to tell her the story, and then another, and then even another. but she's allowed to joke, and so he thinks it's his turn to be a pain in the ass. ]
[ he looks at her when she closes her eyes, then down at her leg when she opens them. ] I would, but ... [ he presses his lips together and shrugs, wanting to convey it's not really his fault he can't. he doesn't realise he lifts one of his hands to wrap his fingers gently around her ankle. ] I only tell stories in exchange for food.
[ free coffee and its delivery get him here with the exchange of company, but his stories don't come without their price. he's found she's paid for them in lasagne and tacos. ]
[ though he doesn't expect any food now, not when she's comfortable, it's a promise he doesn't want to acknowledge. there's only one coffee boy who's been to her place, after all. he figures he may as well make it worth it. ]
[Oh, well. She realizes just fine for the two of them, and huh. That's -- that's apparently a thing. A thing that she likes.
She raises her eyebrows. (At him, and at herself liking the thing.)] So you have a price. Ah. [The next time he calls her a pain in the ass, she's going to throw a ditto at him.
She's not focusing on his hand around her ankle, she's not.] Too bad I don't have your currency on me.
[ at first, he taps his fingers lightly against her ankle. ]
I'm not cheap. [ he frowns, but smiles as he says it, like he's amused by her or he's having fun cornering her a little. ] You did just tell me to do what I wanted. [ she doesn't need the reminder, but maybe she does. mom used to tell him he could be anything he wanted to be, but he'd always seen the limitations due to his station. what raven's said — it's not something he's just going to brush aside. ]
[ only a part of him is aware he's stopped tapping his fingers against her ankle. he becomes aware of what he's doing after a few moments, but he doesn't stop his fingers from pressing into it, as if digging for the bone so he can touch her marrow, too. he knows he's purposefully kneading it, but he thinks he has a good excuse. ]
[ this had been the leg they'd drilled into. he hadn't had the chance to check in on her before coming here. it's not really a good excuse at all, but bellamy's so tired of his people getting hurt and he has to pass them over to abby to take care of and maybe even lecture. ]
[ but he acts like he's not even aware of what he's doing, like he doesn't wonder if her ankle hurts from the strain of her own stubborn determination to not act like she's falling apart. to him, she's not. there may be no glory in a bum leg, but there's strength to be found. ] I can't make coffee, but I can tell stories.
[And give footrubs, unintentionally, apparently. All this, without giving him food first, so she assumes he might do it because he wants to. Maybe; she hasn't felt the shift that should come with the realization of what he's doing, not yet.
The kneading, though, it makes something lock in her chest and she thinks that feels better than any hug or kiss or fuck she's had since she's been here. Which is unfair, to a number of people.
Maybe she should invest in one of these every week. Someone to knead life back into her limbs, so they don't hurt. She stays on her feet so often because getting up after sitting down always happens with a flinch, but there's a price to so much stubbornness.]
I've heard. You might be able to make some money out of that if you wanted. [She shrugs.] They let me dismantle cars even though I haven't touched one before in my life, so you know -- get creative.
[ he assumes it is. anything raven puts her mind to usually benefits the wider community, just like bellamy's decisions benefit the individual. ]
[ — like moving his hand down to the arch of her foot, kneading along the way. it's purposeful now, his other hand joining to dig his thumb into the arch of her foot. ]
[ he figures she's too stubborn and stupid to think about the fact she's placing so much weight on the one leg. mom had both hers but the weight of octavia to carry once. he thinks maybe she's strained herself like aurora had, too proud to ask for help, too much of a lone wolf to want to bother anyone. ]
[ he continues to act like he's not aware of what he's doing, even when his gaze slips to her foot as he shifts it so her heel digs into his thigh. looking up at her with a crease to his brows, it's clear he doesn't think his storytelling can be much use. ] They've got all these bookstores to go along with the twenty coffee shops they've got built next to one another. I doubt I could seriously make money off that.
[So, not unintentional. She feels the shift to purposeful, even if he doesn't acknowledge it, and apparently they're back to touching each other comfortably. Or, he's touching her at least, and taking some of her pain away in the process.
Isn't this familiar.
She actually shudders when he kneads the arch of her foot, not putting it in words that it felt good.
She frowns, and focuses on his words instead; what, like stories can't be useful? Maybe if psychoes like Murphy had grown up with more stories, they wouldn't turn up the way they did. Raven, she fixes things and finds solutions; he only had to plant the seed in her head and she came up with walkie talkies. He's planted the seed, she comes up with,]
So do that. Fuck- [That knot of tension, fuck. She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head and then focuses again. With an exhale through her nose, she looks at him again.] People come here from times more ancient than the twenty first century, some of them probably don't even know how to handle books. I've seen so many repetitive network posts asking for a story. Tell stories.
[ bellamy watches her. he doesn't say anything, feeling as though he doesn't need to address what's happening at all. he already knows his motivation, even if it's a little messy and blurred and he can't quite pick whether it's concern or his hands needing to stay busy. he may not be the tinkerer like raven, but he's not someone who can sit still while staring at the paint of her apartment for a good hour. ]
[ he doesn't feel like saying anything about her reaction, even though it just tells him what he suspected: idiot. his hands continue to knead at her foot, wondering just how knotted she's allowed her good leg to become. he doubts it'll help her walk any easier, but it's something. ]
[ he can't just sit around and do nothing. ]
Tell stories. [ he repeats it, sounding incredulous. nothing is that simple. not in their world — but he's been reminded again and again, by the people here, by the things here, by how even those from home react to here, that this isn't their home at all. he shakes his head, looking down at her ankle. ] Alright. It sounds too damn easy, but — [ it's something. something he can be useful in, as he feels himself being useless, with no place at all, in eudio. ]
[ he chooses to joke, instead of confessing that. ] It's kind of sad people don't know how to hold a book. It's easier than a rifle.
[Tell stories and rub feet, she thinks, but doesn't say so because she's not acknowledging it, right? Right. There's a knot in her stomach now that's all nerves and tension, and it takes him actually digging in to the tension in her foot to undo it.
She lets out a pained little garbled laugh, because of where he just touched, and lets her head drop back against the arm rest.]
[ his fingers slow at her laugh before he lets them dig into her foot once more. if she doesn't like it, he thinks she'd pull it away, yell at him or maybe kick him. but he's keen to not inflict any more pain on her; bellamy thinks she's suffered enough. ]
[ he lets his eyes drift to her foot before looking up at her, noting how she rests her head against the arm rest. he sits comfortably, back against the cushions, no longer slouching so relaxedly he may slip off. ]
Guess what matters is we know how to hold a book. [ he tries not to smile as he quips, ] I don't know if you can read one, though.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ if she's going to joke, he's going to joke. but he's not going to press his cheek into the cushion to look at her to do so. instead, he looks up at the ceiling, arching his back slightly. he still remains slouched, proper posture going to hell. ] And how many people have you honoured with delivering you free coffee?
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To my place? One. [Because hey, she hasn't said yes to a question that started with 'do you want to try this food/drink' yet, but where she lives is something only a select few know. And so far, only a select one has been her delivery boy here.]
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Lucky me. [ it may be a monotonous response, but if he reads into it like he doesn't want to — he guesses he is lucky. he stares at her for a quick moment before he looks away, voice shifting as he jokes, ] Unlucky for you. Any coffee I make would kill you.
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I'm sure it's not that hard. [She's going to toss her empty cup in the bin now that she's done with the coffee.] You'll learn.
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[ coffee making is probably easy, but bellamy doesn't like it. it's not enjoyable, taking orders from people, even if it's just something ridiculous like putting cream in a hot drink. it's easy money for sure, but it's not how he wants to spend his days if he can help it. raven's found where she belongs, with grease on her face looking like she's meant to be the girl working on all the weird crap he doesn't understand. he just feels misplaced, except for when he's in her company. ]
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[ it's such a simple solution, but it's one that bellamy finds difficult to grasp. he's always been octavia's older brother, the guy who shot chancellor jaha, the more aggressive leader. he'd been following clarke's lead for a while now that he isn't so sure what to do without the push and pull that once provided. ]
[ the easiest way to deal with what she's saying is to make a bit of a joke about it. he looks at her, amused, ] Some people do have swords here, Raven.
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When I leave here, I'll get right on it. [ by his tone, bellamy blake's not changing his ways of being exasperating. but, given he's being purposefully obtuse, maybe he'll try and do that whole striving to achieve his dreams thing. ]
[ he finds himself wanting to change the focus from him, just like she'd done so before. it's leaving him uncomfortable, being encouraged to do what he wants, especially by someone who doesn't really owe him that sort of thing. he doesn't know where to begin, let alone what he really wants, and so he doesn't wish to speak of it at all, worried he'll be placed on the spot if he does. ]
[ he remains as he is, elbows digging into his thighs. ] You got any plans for the rest of the day?
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But the question, that one has no actual answer. She shrugs, because truth be told she would've fiddled with something just to make time pass, because being surrounded by people and sleeping so close to someone else's tent you can practically hear their snores in stereo only means the silence and emptiness of this apartment, however hers it is, gets bigger towards each evening.
And she hasn't cuddled someone here yet.]
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[ it'd be easy for him to leave and continue his day, making sure the things he wants to do get crossed off his list, but bellamy doesn't make a move to get up. he leans back against the couch, slouching once more against it. he breathes out, ] Yeah, me neither. [ he can do all that boring, solo crap by himself tomorrow, on a day where he has no plans or spontaneous phone messages asking him to tell a story that requires him to be in person. ]
[ maybe she didn't want to see him. but he can't tell the story about cerberus over text. it's not really satisfying for him that way, being forced to miss out on all her reactions. ]
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He gets comfortable, taking up half her space, and she decides that fuck it, so will she. Get comfortable in this case means to sit back down and bring her right leg up in his lap. You know, whatever. She slouches too, leaning her head back against the armrest of the couch.]
Are all your Greek myths depressing or annoying?
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[ it isn't on purpose he doesn't touch her. his hands remain at his sides on the couch for now. ]
[ he thinks over her question with a soft smile and a bow of his head, as if maybe the floor can give him an answer. the stories he has latched onto as a kid had been the depressing ones, but that isn't all he knows. he looks up at her, ] No. There's a few happy endings in there. They just don't really belong to the big characters in the mythology.
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A universe where the big characters are assholes and the little guys get the happy endings but none of the glory. [She rests her hands on her stomach for now, staring down at her leg in his lap.] Glory's fucked up if all it gets you is pain, anyway.
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[ he's well-aware she's looking at her leg, maybe referring to the loss of her other one as being the price for trying to attain glory. raven may think herself to be a little character in the mythology of the ark people, but where clarke is often the one to challenge him, raven had steered him and given him a path to run along when he had needed it most. ]
[ there's glory to be found in being the little guy. it may not get someone a golden apple at the end of the day, but there's something. ]
Remind me to tell you the story of Psyche. Little fish in a sea of sharks, but I think she got the happiest story of them all.
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Okay? Tell me.
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[ he looks at her when she closes her eyes, then down at her leg when she opens them. ] I would, but ... [ he presses his lips together and shrugs, wanting to convey it's not really his fault he can't. he doesn't realise he lifts one of his hands to wrap his fingers gently around her ankle. ] I only tell stories in exchange for food.
[ free coffee and its delivery get him here with the exchange of company, but his stories don't come without their price. he's found she's paid for them in lasagne and tacos. ]
[ though he doesn't expect any food now, not when she's comfortable, it's a promise he doesn't want to acknowledge. there's only one coffee boy who's been to her place, after all. he figures he may as well make it worth it. ]
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She raises her eyebrows. (At him, and at herself liking the thing.)] So you have a price. Ah. [The next time he calls her a pain in the ass, she's going to throw a ditto at him.
She's not focusing on his hand around her ankle, she's not.] Too bad I don't have your currency on me.
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I'm not cheap. [ he frowns, but smiles as he says it, like he's amused by her or he's having fun cornering her a little. ] You did just tell me to do what I wanted. [ she doesn't need the reminder, but maybe she does. mom used to tell him he could be anything he wanted to be, but he'd always seen the limitations due to his station. what raven's said — it's not something he's just going to brush aside. ]
[ only a part of him is aware he's stopped tapping his fingers against her ankle. he becomes aware of what he's doing after a few moments, but he doesn't stop his fingers from pressing into it, as if digging for the bone so he can touch her marrow, too. he knows he's purposefully kneading it, but he thinks he has a good excuse. ]
[ this had been the leg they'd drilled into. he hadn't had the chance to check in on her before coming here. it's not really a good excuse at all, but bellamy's so tired of his people getting hurt and he has to pass them over to abby to take care of and maybe even lecture. ]
[ but he acts like he's not even aware of what he's doing, like he doesn't wonder if her ankle hurts from the strain of her own stubborn determination to not act like she's falling apart. to him, she's not. there may be no glory in a bum leg, but there's strength to be found. ] I can't make coffee, but I can tell stories.
action; THIS IS FINE
The kneading, though, it makes something lock in her chest and she thinks that feels better than any hug or kiss or fuck she's had since she's been here. Which is unfair, to a number of people.
Maybe she should invest in one of these every week. Someone to knead life back into her limbs, so they don't hurt. She stays on her feet so often because getting up after sitting down always happens with a flinch, but there's a price to so much stubbornness.]
I've heard. You might be able to make some money out of that if you wanted. [She shrugs.] They let me dismantle cars even though I haven't touched one before in my life, so you know -- get creative.
action; everything is fine
[ he assumes it is. anything raven puts her mind to usually benefits the wider community, just like bellamy's decisions benefit the individual. ]
[ — like moving his hand down to the arch of her foot, kneading along the way. it's purposeful now, his other hand joining to dig his thumb into the arch of her foot. ]
[ he figures she's too stubborn and stupid to think about the fact she's placing so much weight on the one leg. mom had both hers but the weight of octavia to carry once. he thinks maybe she's strained herself like aurora had, too proud to ask for help, too much of a lone wolf to want to bother anyone. ]
[ he continues to act like he's not aware of what he's doing, even when his gaze slips to her foot as he shifts it so her heel digs into his thigh. looking up at her with a crease to his brows, it's clear he doesn't think his storytelling can be much use. ] They've got all these bookstores to go along with the twenty coffee shops they've got built next to one another. I doubt I could seriously make money off that.
action; everything's on fire and you burned us
Isn't this familiar.
She actually shudders when he kneads the arch of her foot, not putting it in words that it felt good.
She frowns, and focuses on his words instead; what, like stories can't be useful? Maybe if psychoes like Murphy had grown up with more stories, they wouldn't turn up the way they did. Raven, she fixes things and finds solutions; he only had to plant the seed in her head and she came up with walkie talkies. He's planted the seed, she comes up with,]
So do that. Fuck- [That knot of tension, fuck. She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head and then focuses again. With an exhale through her nose, she looks at him again.] People come here from times more ancient than the twenty first century, some of them probably don't even know how to handle books. I've seen so many repetitive network posts asking for a story. Tell stories.
action; gotta let it burn
[ he doesn't feel like saying anything about her reaction, even though it just tells him what he suspected: idiot. his hands continue to knead at her foot, wondering just how knotted she's allowed her good leg to become. he doubts it'll help her walk any easier, but it's something. ]
[ he can't just sit around and do nothing. ]
Tell stories. [ he repeats it, sounding incredulous. nothing is that simple. not in their world — but he's been reminded again and again, by the people here, by the things here, by how even those from home react to here, that this isn't their home at all. he shakes his head, looking down at her ankle. ] Alright. It sounds too damn easy, but — [ it's something. something he can be useful in, as he feels himself being useless, with no place at all, in eudio. ]
[ he chooses to joke, instead of confessing that. ] It's kind of sad people don't know how to hold a book. It's easier than a rifle.
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She lets out a pained little garbled laugh, because of where he just touched, and lets her head drop back against the arm rest.]
Or a sword. A lot lighter, too.
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[ he lets his eyes drift to her foot before looking up at her, noting how she rests her head against the arm rest. he sits comfortably, back against the cushions, no longer slouching so relaxedly he may slip off. ]
Guess what matters is we know how to hold a book. [ he tries not to smile as he quips, ] I don't know if you can read one, though.
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