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31_days2005-09-23 06:30 pm
alyxbradford.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2005-09-23 06:30 pm
[23 Sept] [His Dark Materials] Adulterers
Title: Adulterers
Day/Theme: 23 Sept / To Aurora, not to hurry
Series: His Dark Materials
Character/Pairing: Asriel Belacqua and Marisa Coulter (and respective daemons)
Rating: PG-13 for suggestion of sexual content
When he awakes, she is already out of bed, moving, dressing. Asriel yawns, and Stelmaria mimics, her sharp teeth glinting as her jaw opens wide. "What are you doing, Marisa?" he asks, frowning slightly.
"I have to go," she replies, that strange iciness falling over her. Asriel wonders how she manages it, to live with two sides of her being so divided, wonders how she learnt to split herself so. She reminds him of a ruby: fire dancing, visible, but beneath, a blaze trapped under a hard, glossy exterior, polished to perfection. He looks at her daemon, at the golden monkey lingering at the foot of the bed, wistful despite Marisa's intent, and thinks how lucky he is for the little thing's existence. 'Without him, I might never know what she's thinking.'
Unlike Marisa and her daemon, Asriel and Stelmaria are in accordance. As the snow leopard pads over to the golden monkey, Asriel reaches out a hand to his lover. "Marisa, come back to bed. It's early yet."
"I have a meeting," she offers in explanation.
"At five in the morning?" Her sky-blue eyes turn to him, and he sees it there, sees a flashing spark of indignance. He tries to dismiss it with a smile, and sees her flinch slightly as Stelmaria winds around the monkey, purring vibrations from her throat. "We've hours yet, Marisa, and who knows when we might find time again." She shakes her head, pulling the black satin chemise over her head. "Marisa."
"If we're discovered, Asriel, it'll be the end of both of us."
His boistrous laugh echoes off the ceiling. "You, perhaps. My reputation has withstood worse than a dalliance with an adulteress."
"Think of mine, then," she chastises, glaring. Marisa goes to pull on her heeled shoes, and meanders near enough for Asriel to catch her wrist and pull her back onto the bed.
"I'd protect you," he promises, voice as rough as the hand that cups her cheek. "What would it matter to be Mrs Coulter no longer if you could be Lady Belacqua?"
"You fool yourself," she says, still hard in his arms. "The Church would never let me marry you, particularly not if Edward put me off because of you."
"To hell with the Church," Asriel murmurs, nipping at her ear.
Marisa makes a soft purring noise, not unlike Stelmaria's, tilting against Asriel. For a moment, he thinks he's won, that he can keep her a few more hours, but then she puts a hand to his bare chest and pushes him away.
"I'll see if I can't convince him to go to the West Country for a week or so," Marisa says, sliding on her dress. It is cut low in the front but high at the back of the neck, and she can't fasten it by herself. "Would you help me?" she asks. Asriel ignores the request, staring darkly at her. Marisa gives an aggravated sigh, and the golden monkey leaps to the top of a dresser. His nimble fingers fasten the hook and eye as Marisa gives Asriel a reproachful gaze. "Don't sulk," she admonishes, bending to kiss him on the mouth. And there it is, the passion and fire as she captures him. He feels it sizzling in her, feels the heat of promise from her lips.
And then she is gone, leaving him to the chilly dawn air.
Day/Theme: 23 Sept / To Aurora, not to hurry
Series: His Dark Materials
Character/Pairing: Asriel Belacqua and Marisa Coulter (and respective daemons)
Rating: PG-13 for suggestion of sexual content
When he awakes, she is already out of bed, moving, dressing. Asriel yawns, and Stelmaria mimics, her sharp teeth glinting as her jaw opens wide. "What are you doing, Marisa?" he asks, frowning slightly.
"I have to go," she replies, that strange iciness falling over her. Asriel wonders how she manages it, to live with two sides of her being so divided, wonders how she learnt to split herself so. She reminds him of a ruby: fire dancing, visible, but beneath, a blaze trapped under a hard, glossy exterior, polished to perfection. He looks at her daemon, at the golden monkey lingering at the foot of the bed, wistful despite Marisa's intent, and thinks how lucky he is for the little thing's existence. 'Without him, I might never know what she's thinking.'
Unlike Marisa and her daemon, Asriel and Stelmaria are in accordance. As the snow leopard pads over to the golden monkey, Asriel reaches out a hand to his lover. "Marisa, come back to bed. It's early yet."
"I have a meeting," she offers in explanation.
"At five in the morning?" Her sky-blue eyes turn to him, and he sees it there, sees a flashing spark of indignance. He tries to dismiss it with a smile, and sees her flinch slightly as Stelmaria winds around the monkey, purring vibrations from her throat. "We've hours yet, Marisa, and who knows when we might find time again." She shakes her head, pulling the black satin chemise over her head. "Marisa."
"If we're discovered, Asriel, it'll be the end of both of us."
His boistrous laugh echoes off the ceiling. "You, perhaps. My reputation has withstood worse than a dalliance with an adulteress."
"Think of mine, then," she chastises, glaring. Marisa goes to pull on her heeled shoes, and meanders near enough for Asriel to catch her wrist and pull her back onto the bed.
"I'd protect you," he promises, voice as rough as the hand that cups her cheek. "What would it matter to be Mrs Coulter no longer if you could be Lady Belacqua?"
"You fool yourself," she says, still hard in his arms. "The Church would never let me marry you, particularly not if Edward put me off because of you."
"To hell with the Church," Asriel murmurs, nipping at her ear.
Marisa makes a soft purring noise, not unlike Stelmaria's, tilting against Asriel. For a moment, he thinks he's won, that he can keep her a few more hours, but then she puts a hand to his bare chest and pushes him away.
"I'll see if I can't convince him to go to the West Country for a week or so," Marisa says, sliding on her dress. It is cut low in the front but high at the back of the neck, and she can't fasten it by herself. "Would you help me?" she asks. Asriel ignores the request, staring darkly at her. Marisa gives an aggravated sigh, and the golden monkey leaps to the top of a dresser. His nimble fingers fasten the hook and eye as Marisa gives Asriel a reproachful gaze. "Don't sulk," she admonishes, bending to kiss him on the mouth. And there it is, the passion and fire as she captures him. He feels it sizzling in her, feels the heat of promise from her lips.
And then she is gone, leaving him to the chilly dawn air.