AU: Penitent

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Every time Penelope looked back to the woman sitting across from her, it was just that much harder to look away again. It physically pained her, the burn in her chest only growing with every second that passed when she couldn't see her. However, allowing herself to stare was just as painful, and dangerous. So much could be spoken through eye contact, and the Brit already felt as if she were giving away enough to the woman she loved.

And as Penelope looked back again, she couldn't meet those familiar, dark eyes she adored. Instead, Lucy's gaze was fixed below her own line of sight, yet were clearly on her in some way. Her eyebrows rose slowly as she took a slow breath that was all but impossible to control the wavering nature of.

She missed it. The comfort. Her.

"My hair?" The Brit couldn't help but to question. Her own thoughts took moments to catch the pace Lucy spoke at, but within the next second her breath slipped from her lungs, and she tried to work backwards. "It seems that nobody could manage to find rest last night."

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

A moment of thought where Lucy had to wonder what reciprocation she might receive. It felt shallow within itself to feel accused of any wrong doing. But she couldn't say, for she didn't know, and she wouldn't know until she took those daring steps from one room to another later that night.

A slight nod of her head to the notion of her hair, or rather, what it revealed in its current state. There might have been so little to see with the layers upon layers of clothing forced upon them every day, but she knew what it was to feel the race of a pulse beneath her own lips against that very morsel of skin. Her hair - as it were - remained as the perfect catalyst for the thought.

But she was taking them back a step, and so the knowing smile the ink manipulator wore was lost with a raise of her eyebrows and a catch of her gaze.

"I thought to leave anyway." Lucy explained, well enough to communicate her side by any means. She was hardly going to wait a day to express it all; "Michael protested. He said the risk couldn't possibly be worth the gain." Like words read from the page of a book, they felt somewhat hollow. Being vague was hardly her strong suit, even now.

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Clarification hit Penelope like a wall; pain still existed, but she was far more willing to accept Lucy's explanation than she could have possibly expected. The wall she forced up should have taken days to tear down - brick by brick - but proper word from her brother's wife, and it crumbled to dust.

Stepping backwards was the only way to work forward, it felt. As much as she could have gotten caught up in letting Lucy speak of her hair, and any hidden meaning behind it, she needed to make sure that reciprocation had come. That she had missed the Australian more than she could ever articulate.

"He does have the advantage of an outside perspective." Penelope pointed out, meaning taking multiple forms in the idea of both the clear state of her brother's mind and the ability he had. If anything, his advice was sound, even if Penelope wished she couldn't agree with it. "I should have realized." She paused, this time unable to look away. "I am sorry."

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Her hand idly pressed to the table. It was a brief connection as fingers drummed the surface within the silence. Lucy nodded once as she stopped the motion; he did have such an advantage. The words dragged a small, simple smile to her features before it dropped.

And she had to take a breath at the apology. Composure threatened to dwindle.

She waited a second longer. She pressed her hands together in her lap.

"I'd hardly hold it against you." Lucy replied in time, her voice calm. Her mentality could easily betray the simple reasoning behind her voice if she so chose to allow it. Only Michael would know they way she protested back. Only he could recall and relive it. At least, that much she only knew to the best of her ability. Argumentative anguish were hardly colours she wanted anyone to see, but he'd been kind enough - and willing, no doubt - to put up with it.

"After all, how could you know?" What she had to work with with far more cruel. Knowing was always better than not.

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Even with the sound of drumming fingers against the table, Penelope refused to let her gaze waver. Now that she was properly looking at the Australian, she was staring, and nothing on the surface of the Earth could seem to have stopped her. Everything she had been trying to push away came flooding back, and with a sharp exhale, she lost the air in her lungs.

With opposite movement, her hand returned to her teacup as Lucy placed hers in her lap. Index finger drawing up the line of it, her fingers slowly hooked around the handle before lifting it up a few inches, although not yet bringing it to her lips.

It was true, she could not have known, but doubt fell heavy on her chest as the hours had passed. By the time Lucy made herself known in the drawing room, Penelope had been certain she had lost the woman she loved in favor of her more charming brother.

She brought the cup to her lips, taking a slow sip before placing it down again. "At the very least, our guests will be departing this afternoon." She tried to offer light to the situation.

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Fire threatened to scorch the very ends of every sentence Lucy wanted to offer. It took a substantial amount of skill to swallow her pride and offer some kind of understanding. She herself had an explanation to give, not one to wait for. She had to take time to consider what a person would suffer through amidst such silence. At least she had someone to coax her into sensibility.

Still, it hardly stopped the way it burned. How it wanted to sear her skin completely.

But any negativity was drained out by the way she was looking. How she stared. How for the first time all morning, she was actively taking the Australian in for what she truly was, not what she'd been assumed to be. The slowest stream of air filled her lungs, hands tightening on themselves, hidden by the line of the table between them.

Lucy nodded her head, offering the slightest raise of her chin to the fact. "Then you should trust that you'll find some comfort tonight." She conceded lightly, an eyebrow dragging up momentarily before she searched for the near-empty cup before her. A loss of her gaze.

How the mind races; "But I doubt you'll sleep."

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Across the table, Penelope lost the eye contact she'd been living for. Feeling as if she had only gotten it back, she quickly felt the weight of its loss. Her own gaze trailed daringly without her dark eyes to keep it still. To the length of her neck, and as far the line of the first of many layers, down to where her collarbone was hidden by fabric.

She took a sudden, unexpected breath as Lucy continued with the most forward of statements. Eyes widened, well aware of her implications as color filled into her cheeks. She had to be thankful they were alone; blushing in the company of a third party would leave quite a bit to explain. Although it's not as if Lucy would have said that were there anyone but herself there.

Her jaw clenched, although this time for an entirely different reason as she felt the pressure build up. Lips parted to try and offer something of a response for her love, but the quickening of her pulse was impossible to think over, and thus she tried for another breath, failing instead.

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

In Lucy's mind, the statement she offered was one that would eventually prove itself to be a fact. It was the kind of assumption one hardly made lightly, but she could make it all the same. There was a belief to the almost nonchalant quality of her tone; after all, what it meant for her and what another could gather from it were completely different. That was the whole point of it all.

Every word a daring step. A smart step.

And so the colour filtered across her cheeks with such perfection, she couldn't help but look. Eyes took in the brighter notions of her expression, well aware that although it was unlikely to find further company on that morning in that particular room, it was always a danger. As her lips parted, she thought to point out how she shouldn't blush; how forward a response it was to a forward statement within itself.

Lucy pressed them together again in silence, hiding the curve of her mouth behind the rim of the cup she finally dragged upwards.

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Silence filled the surrounding air, but the constant beating of her heart still rang loudly in the Brit's ears. She almost thought to reach for her own cup in order to simply make some sort of movement and fill the void between them, however she moved first, and Penelope felt frozen.

Dark eyes flicked down the her counterpart's parted lips, waiting for the Australian to offer whatever it was she had planned next. Quite possibly, it was just an excuse the Brit made for herself to look, and as her view was obstructed by the line of her teacup, desperation flashed within her eyes.

An entire night without her, and now she would be forced to endure the day as well? It was torture. The color of her cheeks refused to disperse just yet, and this time Penelope did push herself to speak. "I will be waiting, then." It was a weak response, but then, this woman made her feel weak in the best of ways as it was.

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Silence fell within reason, because Lucy doubted she'd even know how to break it at that point. Forward as she'd been in her own way, it was still a concept that she struggled to grasp. There was little in the world that could rightly stop her from proving herself. She'd be there without question or she'd be forced to face such heartache tenfold.

So she couldn't fail. It simply wasn't an option.

When she finally spoke, Lucy raised her eyebrows and pulled her gaze towards her face. The idea of waiting sound as painful as it clearly was for her. The distressed look on her face was impossible to ignore; like she felt the difficulty as much as Lucy tried not to.

There was a fluidity to every move made; she placed the cup back to its saucer and her hands were together again, else she might reach for her hand instead. "And what a day it should be." She conceded, nodding her head once. Even with her cool tone, she felt the way her voice was strained. She felt how little she could control it, now. Slight concern barely clouded the interest.

"Should I leave?" She asked; as if staying could be anything but dangerous.

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

The distance between them suddenly felt much greater than possible. Lucy wasn't far; actually within reach if Penelope reached out to her, but the hours set between them until she could properly feel her again made inches feel like miles. Minutes were bound to drag on for days.

With a small tilt of her head, Penelope agreed with the Australian. At least for herself, she had the option to hide and move about her day without notice, but she drew attention.There wouldn't be the chance to slip away into the comfort of another person, or even that of solitude.

She reached for her cup again, yet faltered the moment Lucy spoke, eyes widening with evident alarm at her question. "No." She replied, far too quickly for an appropriate response. Because desperation still very much lined her exhausted eyes. Her lips pursed together as she cleared her throat, taking in what was supposed to be a calming breath. "You do not have to just yet."

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

For someone who took forward steps, Lucy had been quick to try and deter the time they spent together. The more she remained in her company, the harder she longed for the darker fall of later night. Speaking as she only just had suddenly carried the most overwhelming consequences, but her counterpart was so quick to cut the idea in half before it truly hit an air of reason. They'd spent all night apart; the last thing she really wanted was more distance.

Eyebrows rose with that shot of desperation, like she was truly questioning the request with a glance.

Again, her hand settled at the table between them. This time, her fingers refused to drum against the surface. She remained still without a break for the cup nearby to keep her hand busy. "Then I will stay." Lucy replied in time, feeling the way her nerves could fray on a look alone. It was a difficult battle between mind and body, and she highly doubted she could defeat herself with logic now, "For what harm could come of it?"

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Fortunately, her desperate tone only fell on the ears of her counterpart. They were alone, and that fact was dangerous within itself. How easy it would have been to reach across the small space between them. To take her hand or cross through it to feel the Australian's cheek in the palm of her hand.

Relief came forth as Lucy agreed to stay, and her fingers left the comforts of her tea cup as dark eyes looked down to the hand that rested between them on the table. She should have kept her own busy, but a slow, unconcious movement moved it inches closer. Unable to find the strength of words to bring her point across - as she wasn't as skilled as she was when it came to such statements - the tips of her fingers brushed over Lucy's with a sliver of contact.

And as Penelope looked up again, she lost the air in her lungs without fail. "None, I'm sure." She replied, feeling her own tone lose any of the strength it might have held. They were still here - in a relatively public space of their house. Although few ventured there, the door could in theory open at any moment. "But thank you."

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Contact was a danger. Lucy knew it. She was sure that she knew it too, yet the moment the Australian placed her hand as she had, she was all but asking for it. There would always be a time for tact and clever antics to get a point across, but this was completely different. Vague words could only remain reassuring for as far as they could stretch. In an unruly world where such things barely spoke volumes, a little more was necessary. The soft brush of her fingertips; that was all it took.

Catching her eyes, Lucy felt herself take a purposeful breath. Without it she was certain she'd be completely intoxicated by the pressure of the moment they were stuck in now, let alone the thoughts of the inevitable interaction they were sure to find in later hours. Ten nights of slower, savoured movements. Those that would likely find their desperate edge after this.

Her mind was clouded with potential admissions, from words of love to quick apologies to potent scoldings. But nothing could fit within the confinement they'd nestled into. Amidst the three, there was no actual choice.

"You are most welcome." She replied, the words carried on a slow exhale. As if breathing should ever truly be so difficult.

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

A gentle brush of her fingertips, barely subtle, and incredibly necessary to breathe despite how Penelope struggled to do so all the same. A day and a night since she had last felt such comforting contact from the Australian, and it had been far too long. Even if it was barely existent, it still was, and that mattered greatly.

The corner of Penelope's mouth caught as Lucy spoke, but the reaction came more from the way her counterpart had breathed. As if were as much a chore as it was for herself. It wasn't hard to recall how it felt to feel each heated, struggling breath against her skin when the sun set, and how it surely would when the sun set that night, as well.

Her thumb brushed across the ink manipulator's knuckles with a slow, therapeutic movement, but contact was calling for more. It always was, really. Her fingers tightened lightly around the hand she held, only able to wish for something more stable without hours of waiting. "Has my family made plans for you today?" She asked idly, trying to keep conversation flowing. Were she to stop, she was sure the physical aspects wouldn't.