TBTT 35. It's a bunch of lines

[moonshadows]

((Author's note: the lyrics used are copyright to Cyndi Lauper and should not be interpreted as being the actual lyrics sung in this scene. The lyrics should instead be taken as a readily identifiable example of the musical genre.))

The guards are visibly panicking as he strides up, irritation radiating from him with every stiff motion. Despite the simmering wrath implicit in his posture, the guards look relieved to see him.

"This better be good," he growls. "You interrupted a meeting with my Minister of Finance." Which I would thank you for, if it wouldn't ruin my image, he continues silently.

"It's your demon, my Lord," one of the guards says shakily, eyes flicking back to the security screen with obvious distress. "She's making...gestures...and repeating the same sounds over and over again. We think she's trying to do some kind of magic. See for yourself..." The guard turns the screen and hits a button, slightly-staticy sound pouring from tiny speakers.

The Warlord frowns in concentration, watching his demon make very ritualistic-looking gestures, trying to think of why they look so familiar. He identifies them as being attack and defense motions used with the warglaive, and almost at the same time realizes that the 'sounds' she's making are words in Nathrezim - and she's singing.

"Some boys take a beautiful girl, and hide her away from the rest of the world. I wanna be the one to walk in the sun. Oh, girls, they wanna have fu-un. Oh, girls, just wanna have-

That's all they really want..... Some fun.... When the working day is done, oh, girls, they wanna have fu-un. Oh, girls, just wanna have fun..."

The incongruity of the lyrics and the fear they inspire strikes him as so ludicrous that he bursts into slightly-maniacal laughter, which does absolutely nothing to reassure her guards. "I'll take care of this," he says between chuckles, casually keying in the sequence that will turn off and lock the security screen until he unlocks it again.

The guards unlock her door and open it for him, not very relieved even when the door closes behind him.
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She was not expecting him to arrive nearly half an hour early.

"Illidan!"

The green glow of his eyes vanishes twice as he blinks. To judge from his expression, he was not expecting the overjoyed exclamation any more than she was expecting him. After a moment, he gives her a cocky grin that makes her breath catch endearingly.

"You scared your guards," he says mildly.

She tilts her head to one side. "I'm...sorry?"

He waves the confused apology away. "I'd rather be here than listening to Finance whine at me."

"Well...while you're here..." She turns to the table and picks up the bundle of woolen cloth, wings rubbing nervously against each other, and shyly offers the folded cloth to him. "I've been working on it for the last few days...take a look?"

Gingerly, he takes the bundle and unfolds the plain cloth, revealing a length of charcoal silk embroidered with abstract lines in black, midnight blue, and a lighter gray that give the impression of storm clouds swirling against a dark sky.

"This is gorgeous fabric..." He fingers it carefully, admiring the cool slide against his skin.

It occurs to her that she is wringing her hands, and she sticks them behind her back to hide this evidence of her nervousness. "...do you like it?" She bites her lip, then stops as he glances at her.

The gentle smile looks very out of place on him. "I do."

Pure joy and relief radiate from her, and he is momentarily bewildered that he - he - has had such an effect on her. She comes up to stand beside him, hands on his arm and head resting against his shoulder briefly.

"I know you prefer covering your eyes, but I thought...if you're going to hide them, you should have something that looks as nice as they do."

He glances at her again, overwhelmed at having been given a gift at all, much less something this...heart-felt. The arm she had been touching goes around her, and he revels in how easily she nestles against him, undismayed by the fel scars that mar his skin or the evil talons on his fingers. From the heat of her cheek against his chest, she must be blushing furiously.

"That's very thoughtful of you, my Champion." He refuses to even think about which emotions may be making his voice thick. She deserves some kind of reward for this, because he absolutely does not want to discourage this kind of behavior, but he has nothing suitable to give her, except... "Would you like to do the honor of tying it on?"

She leans back slightly, gazing up at him in wonder and adoration that reaches straight down past ten thousand years of revilement and ignites a dream that had been buried so long that its resurrection nearly causes him to gasp in pain. He doesn't even waste time lamenting that no one else ever looked at him like that; each second of undeserved worship is too precious to squander by dividing his attention.

The moment passes, and she flings herself back against his chest, hugging him tightly. "I would be honored, my Kal'shan!"

If she keeps using that reverent tone, she's going to spoil him.

Blushing even harder, she reaches up with both hands to untie the worn cloth that has served him for years. Feeling her strain to reach, he lowers his head slightly, momentarily wishing that she were not so young, and that he were someone else. Finally the knot comes undone and she lowers the cloth - only to be mesmerized at the unholy horrors that sit where once, there were handsome golden eyes.

If he lives for another ten thousand years, he'll never understand why she likes those wretched things.

With a visible shake, she looks away slightly and trades the worn cloth for the embroidered one.

"Should I close my eyes?" He smirks as his amused words lure her back into looking at his face, well aware that he's just short-circuited her again and not caring in the slightest. He has an adoring girl on his arm, he's going to selfishly milk this for all it's worth.

"...I like your eyes," she says absently, looking like she's forgotten the new blindfold entirely.

The smirk widens just a tiny bit. Oh, he knows how unfair he's being, but she doesn't seem to mind in the least. "Even though they indicate how malnourished I was?"

That crisp obedience he has seen in the past returns. "That can be fixed; if you take in enough energy, they'll replenish themselves." Guilty, she breaks eye contact again and takes the ends of the silk in both hands, then holds it up as if to say are you sure you don't want to go gloriously eye-naked?

"You seem reluctant," he says slowly, resisting the urge to run one finger down her cheek for the sheer pleasure of seeing her lean into his touch. "Are my eyes really so attractive to you?"

There isn't a 'yes' strong enough to express my answer, she thinks absently, heart in her mouth. Lacking words, she nods mutely and leaves a shining gem of yes in his mind. The warped structures shudder and cringe, and she realizes that his eyes have caused so much unhappiness to him that he may never be comfortable with them uncovered.

"...but..." She chokes back the desire to cry at how hurt he's been. "...your comfort is more important." Chin and hands raise slightly, ready to enact his will.

She's prepared to go against her own desires because they conflict with mine. I don't deserve this kind of loyalty. Guilt and unworthiness puncture his enjoyment of the situation. "I would also hate for your effort to have gone to waste."

He closes his eyes so that he doesn't see the disappointment in hers, feeling guilty for the relief that surges through him at the feel of cool silk against his eyelids. She ties the cloth securely behind his head, fingertips tracing the embroidery as her hands come back around his head, cupping his cheeks briefly before trailing lines of faint heat down his throat and finally, her hands come to rest splayed against his chest. Part of him protests that she is young, too young. Part of him wonders when the last time was that anyone had touched him that gently - if at all. Most of him is filled with wordless gratitude for the kindness she has shown him.

His arms go around her, holding her close as she melts against him with a small sound of joy. He lowers his head until he can smell the foreign floral scent of her hair. "Thank you," he says quietly, unable to think of anything more eloquent to express how he feels - or at least, the parts he is willing or able to put names to.

"It was my pleasure, Illidan," she whispers.

The truth of that statement sings between him, and he has the sudden wild thought that she would do anything if it would please him. He's caught glimpses of this in their practice sessions, but now it occurs to him to wonder how far that goes. She forgives him snapping at her; she forgives him bothering her at odd hours of the night. Would she also forgive him...?

The battered, fragile shape of his honor twists inside him like a knife. No. Unacceptable. Even if...even if...no. She's a child, and he doesn't deserve it anyway. This simple pleasure, just holding her close, even this is more than he deserves - but he is greedy, and he cannot make himself give even this much up.