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The top of Albert Chambers, wherein lies Scarlett's garden, is open to the sky and very little else around given the height of the building. Her apartment on the top floor opens to that petite slice of heaven, a place where she might forget terrestrial notions and seek celestial insight. Barring that, perchance, just the communion with sky and earth relieves the toxic cares of the world. His weaknesses are hers, after all, given times of certain prolonged proximity.
*
Him. Blackagar's appearance kindles a smile, raw and fierce, the simmering flames of those altogether green eyes rivalling any of the plants surrounding them. Consequence of a landing, the ornamental grasses rustle. So much for stealth, knowing what to hear. Sitting up in the woven high-backed chair, her posture is adjusted only for the languid slouch. "Hello, darling." The only warning he gets.
Her next movement is a pounce, huntress seeking prey, one foot on the ground and the next a leap to throw her arms around him. Well. He'd more than likely be able to knock her aside or pin her in turn if he wants.
*
But rather than those, his arms lift up into a catch to receive the pounced woman into his embrace and pull Scarlett into his chest, secure and warm; a nest meant for her to perch within. There is no response vocally but his gestures and expressions; a touch of his mind at contact expresses. «A sight for sore eyes.»
Blackagar makes no attempt to set her down, instead turning a moment with the woman in his grasp before he leans back some so he can look at her, still with the embrace abound. «All is well?»
*
A delighted chime, more of a squeak, perches upon her lips and welcomes the secure claim that draws them together. The circumference of Blackagar's arms proves sufficient for her, enough space to rest her cheek softly to his and allow the familiar scent to rebalance her centre of existence. "If I never see the outside world again…" The statement goes without completion, her lips branding a line against his jaw where the vibrations fade out. Leaning back a little allows the desired eye contact, sea and verdant forests meeting. «Better now. I need you.»
Simple fact, her eyebrows raised slightly and her smile hanging by a moonbeam. Such confessions are made manifest. «I missed you.»
*
Such thoughts are apparently enough to make the man blush, which he does in the barest of hues against his tanned skin. «I missed you as well. It is a lonely city.» Which filled with so many is quite the statement. For it was not lonely due to absense of people, but more the absent person. Slowly he sets her down until feet touch the ground and hands reach up to cup Scarlett's cheek.
*
What thoughts stain his expression she brushes over with her thumb, tracing the hard line of his cheekbone to the outer corner of his nose, down to skim across his lips. «I do not like when you go. I want you here all the time.» Perhaps simple sentiments; elaborate ones in their developing language of touch and unspoken expressions, gestures, and posture are limited for her, even if he might sing whole poems unspoken and rival the bard, so given. Leaning up to him still, she rests on one foot, the other knee bent, her position is still precarious. Without the bracelet, the building would be at risk. «Key for you. In my….» What is a jewelry box? She points to her hand and the opal set around her wrist on strands of filigree.
*
That catches him a bit in surprise, pulling back to lift an eyebrow. «Key?» The significance of such things is lost on the man not in the know of many things of the modern or social world. For his next thought illuminates that innocence. «Why would I need a key?» There, that momentary twinkle of his eye that hints perhaps he is baiting her into admission once more.
*
Why indeed. Let him hang in suspense for a little, her attention driven elsewhere by running her palm up the back of his neck and her cheek pressed again to his. The nearness soothes ailments, a balm for the ache in the soul built up strongly over days and weeks. Its shape engulfs her, pushing away a tide of witnessed misery and stress. "To stay with me, here, when you wish," she dares to whisper, a spark of sound purred against his ear. Adjusting once more to look him in the eyes, her expression softens from the slow inundation of pheromones, as surely as if she were kneaded to putty on a masseuse's table. «Home. A home for you.»
*
That eyebrow remains lofted as he looks at her, hands trailing down to gently embrace Scarlett in his grasp again. «That is what you wish? For me to be with you more often?» There had been stints afterall, days together; the trips away and times together but he'd always had his own 'place' of sorts. Sure it was an old building with a single room he rented that served his purposes of sitting and meditating; but that was all he needed anyway. The thought of having a 'home' does catch him slightly off. It is rare for Blackagar to look off balance but he does in that moment, head shaking slowly. «All my homes end up destroyed.»
*
The groove her teeth form in her lower lip is a familiar bruise, the scudding of a smile prohibited from dawning to its full brightness. Promise is there, her thumb tracing down his chin again ere her hand comes to rest upon his collarbone. Fingers fan out, absorbing the heat and simply measuring his heartbeat through that oldest of senses: touch. The forbidden made possible. Scarlett looks away for a moment, gathering up her thoughts. «My choice is all the time. I understood something.» A shift from silent communication to the more nuanced might be rueful, but not without reason. "A magically-infused neurotoxin was used on me," see, reason for speech. "I went under thinking I had to come back to you. Whatever it took, even breaking every barrier or body in my way, to come home."
She draws in a deep breath. «Home is you.»
*
He has heard words spoken by her, of love and emotion but it is when she shares the last; in his language, that it echoes more loudly than any of the others. The somber look of his eyes recognizes the depth of the phrase, of it's meaning and his hand lifts up to brush once more over Scarlett's cheek. «I am not just some passing fancy.» It is a statement of fact, not really a revelation for he knew such already but just an affirmation of the sentiments. To know that another being views you as their home, their rock… it is a heavy weight.
*
So many streets may seem to go one way, and others reciprocal. The book opened to a trove of worthy secrets belongs wholly to the Inhuman royal, and she does not stint on a cipher now and then. Scarlett's smile adds to the slight inclination of her head, as regal a nod as ever graced one copper-kissed crown, her frosted bangs concealed again. His fingers nudge against her cheek and she turns, brushing a kiss to his palm. «No. Not at any time.» A finger tapping his chest at the hollow of his throat underlines that. «Always.»
*
«Always is a long time.» Blackagar responds in thought, a smile forming at the corners of his lips before his hands reach down to take Scarlett's within his. An incline of his head comes next, to the entry that leads back down into her apartment; perhaps to be their apartment. «Come. I need to remind myself of you.» It is almost a deflection of thought from the current path of adoration, a new road that he is braving with her.
*
She puzzles over the second statement, though the intentions are clear enough, measuring his syntax and the finer nuances of position. Fingers curl around his, pressing firmly down upon his knuckles to seal their palms together, another silent show of solidarity for the Silent King-in-exile. «Not so long.» An impish wrinkle of her nose almost approaches laughter, the creak of their footsteps to the trapdoor that leads down into the actual hallway access of the apartment the lone refrain beyond the city's music. How dare he forget her? The notion is entirely impossible, and something she allows Blackagar with a subtle shake of her head.
Within is dark: she came directly to the rooftop garden, leaving the melodious shades of twilight to gather in the corners. Nothing that a flick of a lightswitch won't fix or a candle lit cannot banish.