2Written 24 - January - 2013.
KinkMeme Prompt: skeletondetectivekinkmeme. dreamwidth 1787. html? thread= 3579
He shields himself with fairy stories and the image of the universe as it could be, losing himself in the grand scheme, the bigger picture, the need to be something that transcends the transport.
She never looks for anything else. Takes her joy from the small perfections, knowing the truth, the skeleton that runs through the world, and the corpses she cuts into are her armor and her strength.
When she is removed from them she feels so incredibly wrong in her skin, wants to strip her flesh away until she is nothing but the bones she can feel within herself.
That goes away when she's with him. The storyteller. He takes away the desperate ache of her loneliness, transmutes her verity into virtuality with his silver-tipped tongue. In return she works her hand into his clothes and reaches to the heart he'd really rather not have. She clenches herself into a fist and he is as a puppet to her, cadaver not yet completed. He is her knight on a white horse charging about the land while she pulls the strings and watches the world dance.
She is metal lining his veins, and one day, she will be too much and he will close up and die. Then he will be hers. All hers.
They are nothing without their bond.