she defies them

gentle touch against his skin immediately makes kit’s shoulders drop, releasing a tension he doesn't even realize he's holding. he leans his face slightly into the warmth of magnolia's palms, a weary exhale escaping his lips. with his own hands still a bit stained from cedar oil and dark varnish, he moves carefully, lifting his arms so he doesn't accidentally get anything on her. he covers her wrists gently with his fingers, tracking the shape of her hands before sliding one of his hands down to carefully sign back to her, his movements slow, deliberate, and full of reverence. < i'm here. i'm okay. just a long day at the shop. > he gives her a smile and tilts his head, chocolate brown eyes searching hers through thick tortoise shell glasses. he shifts his hand slightly to touch the side of her wrist, signing a soft afterthought, < did you eat yet? I can put the kettle on and make us something. > @desafia.

satisfaction graces her demeanor as she watches the tension seep out of his form. magnolia smiles softly. she likes when she can see remnants of his work on him, can smell the oil and varnish and wood as if it were as ingrained in his skin as it is in the carvings themselves. she takes his assurance, for now, at face value. she leaves his thoughts to their surface level. she can pry deeper later. magnolia frowns. ❛ tea sounds lovely, ❜ she signs back. she cannot recall the last time she ate and she isn't sure she should admit it. ❛ i am a little hungry, ❜ she says instead. she offers him another sheepish, somewhat mischievous smile, self aware she is skirting around the actual question. ❛ i can help. ❜ she curls her fingers around his palm as if to ensure he stays with her when she moves towards the kitchen.

magnolia’s eyes scan the crowd while attorney lawrence speaks.  the camera follows her gaze,  we see what she does.  first emmett,  then aspen.  when she answers the question her eyes lose focus.  we are the crowd looking at her.  expectant.  waiting.  she speaks again and this time her eyes find a new target: former research manager charlotte langford.  the woman who stole her voice. 

he thinks of his answer at first in the way of the force . in balance and light and that sense that has anchored him since he was a child . in the steadiness he feels when things were quiet and he was surrounded by nature , looking up at the stars . and then he thinks of his answer , thinks of the concept of home , in the way of other things . watching the embrace of families , kisses of lovers , the warm spark in brown eyes and the one curl in a head of hair that seems to be immune to being tamed . " it feels like you can breathe , or... sleep . " he thinks of how to describe it in a way that makes sense . " feels like everything is quiet . "

❛ it's true i don't really sleep... ❜ she signs thoughtfully. ❛ it would be nice to find a place where i can do so without nightmares. ❜ it is devoid of self pity when she says it. she is a haunted woman and this is a simple fact of existence, as much as breathing. truth be told, the part she doesn't sign to him, is her uncertainty there will ever be such a place for her. she doesn't want to admit it when he is being hopeful. she thinks it rather pretty when people have hope. after a moment she admits ❛ it feels quiet with you. as long as we're together i think i'll be okay. ❜

once he could open his mouth, he brought the mug to his lips, ignoring her warning completely and taking a large gulp. tea burned all the way down, leaving his tongue a bit numb, but neither a wince nor a hiss escaped the man. head turned toward her as she offered the apple before they move back to magnolia. she was strange. bringing a man in a mask into your house would be considered crazy. maybe she was crazy. maybe that's why he didn't want to kill her. michael took the apple and paused for only a moment before biting and chewing, some of the juice dripping down his chin. eyes never left hers.

magnolia reaches to the side without looking away, blindly feeling for a napkin from one of her wood-carved holders. she holds the paper carefully between her fingertips and moves very slowly. if he doesn't want to be touched he can make it clear, he can pull away or growl or do whatever it is someone like him does. either way she moves to try to dab the apple juices from his chin before it grows sticky. if he tries to hurt her she supposes she could arrest his mind, choke his motor functions long enough to get back. but then, maybe she wouldn't. maybe she would just let it happen to see how it unfolds. either way it's a risk she is willing to take in the name of treating him with humanity.

the statement bounces around in lexa's mind. Heart flutters at the INVITATION. even after all this time, she still struggles with the concept of being wanted. " i only brought one towel... " she signs pointedly. her initial demeanor gives off the impression that this is a predicament, but she's trying and failing to hold back a smile of her own.

❛ we can share, ❜ she signs as if she is solving a great problem. magnolia pushes the towel back into the other woman's arms. as soon as her hands are completely free she peels off her sweater, leaving her torso completely bare. she drops the garment on the floor. lips curl into a devilish grin. she extends her hand for the other woman to take to walk together to the bathroom.

knife in his hand halts against the chocolate tomatoes on his cutting board, the man taking a moment to grin a bit before he glances toward magnolia. she's stationed herself onto one of his kitchen counters, and though normally he would be strictly against having anyone in his cooking area, let alone sitting on the pristine marble top, he'd decided to make an exception for her. it was a rare feat when he didn't, these days. 'not in the literal sense, no,' hannibal answers after a moment, returning to his careful slicing of vegetables that he'd prepare them for dinner. 'do i believe some might have metaphorical ghosts absorbing the spaces in their minds they so desperately want to reach? i suppose so. though, in my profession, we refer to these more as illnesses than spirits,' @desafia.

genuine interest rests on delicate features as she fixes her bright gaze upon the man. she watches his hands, appreciates the precision and familiarity in each movement. her lips form the shape of an 'oh' though no sounds comes out. it's just a silent gesture before she nods. she waits to catch his eye for just long enough to sign ❛ real ghosts are easier to deal. ❜ she says it with the confidence of a woman who has in fact dealt with both. she doesn't need him to believe. he has no reason to. most people don't. ❛ you can banish ghosts. bad memories never go away. ❜ she turns towards him a little more, glancing at his progress with the vegetables. ❛ do you have brain ghosts? ❜

you're happy? she asks. a question he's never heard before, and a word he's never used to describe himself. the only time he may have come close is with the old man, now dead at the muzzles of wolves, and even then, the creature had paid for that near happiness, too. the overwhelming feeling within him now could only be unbridled joy, perhaps mixed with some guilt knowing that he may not deserve so much of what magnolia gives him. but it will not hinder him, not as he meets her eyes with his own, not as he slowly reaches down and wraps his arms around her, lifting her from the ground in a tight embrace, though he's careful not to lose track of his strength. 'i am. happy,' palomo whispers, burying his nose into her hair for a moment before he reluctantly drops her softly back to the ground. 'will you . . . spend time with me here? when you can? your companionship is . . . important, to me, as well,'

she laughs when she is lifted off the ground. the action manages to catch her off guard in the best of ways. she is more than satisfied and pleased when he confirms he is happy after all. joy has been rare in both their lives. she cannot imagine existing as long as he has so devoid of warmth. at least, for a time, she can provide it. head tilts back to look up at him when she deposited back on the floor. her expression grows tender and soft again. ❛ of course, ❜ she reassures him. ❛ i'm just below you...you can't get rid of me. ❜ she smiles. he needn't ask such a question when nothing brings her more joy than their companionship. ❛ i'd still like to come up here to paint sometimes, as long as the smell doesn't both you. ❜

'really? nothing at all?' joanna found that hard to believe. more than that, if it was true, she was envious, green with how much she wished she didn't fear a damn thing. jo rests her chin on her knuckles, leaning in a bit closer to magnolia as she speaks. 'not even being alone forever? never finding the one person who could . . . fix you?' blue eyes glisten a bit, as if she might cry. 'that's my biggest fear - never being loved like i deserve,' @desafia.

❛ nothing, ❜ she confirms. ❛ all the bad things have already happened to me. i think my body had to stop feeling or else i would've died from fright a long time ago. ❜ she shrugs. magnolia tilts her head as the other woman speaks, her brows knitting together with an empathetic expression. ❛ who says you need to be fixed? ❜ she ignores how it was framed as a question from joanna. magnolia is too broken to be fixed, but she hardly believes the same of her companion. ❛ love isn't fixing. it's accepting. maybe the right person will just take you as you are. ❜