[PRP/Drabbles] Moving Forward (Bellamorte)

[medigel]

return

He had forgotten just how cozy Belladonna's bed could be after a long day--let alone a long day of crazy infighting and horsemen. Mort had returned from the chaos sometime past dinner, but he had snagged a bag of chips on the way over. It was currently in his lap and half empty while he recounted what had happened, which . . . thankfully hadn't been quite so much, as for once he had arrived late on the scene.

"Was big tower," he explained between munching. "Lots've stairs." He shuddered, remembering the Silver Tower from his time as a king. "Inside was seven doors like from long ago, all colors. Went to green n' had . . . visions."

He shifted uncomfortably.

AyeAvast

 

[AyeAvast]

return

The bed was cozy, yes, but also very good for sitting at the end of, opposite one's boilfriend, and continuing to maintain an air of general disagreement. Even if he had been fully honest with her about leaving, Belladonna still felt it very within her right as Continually Worried Witch Ghoulfriend to be still annoyed with him for running off without her. Not that it would really do her any good, it never did and holding onto her frustration would only serve to ruin her mood more. At the end of it all, he'd come back and curled up on her bed and probably would have cuddled with her had she not sat herself away from him.
"Could you not fly up the steps?" She finally asked with her first amused look, pink eyes peeking over the top of a mug full of tea. Having not yet touched it, the witch quickly covered up her smirk with a sip.

Oh. Seven doors and he chose the green. Naturally.
"Visions? What kinds?" The left over attempts at anger subsided and she moved closer to him when she noticed him looking a touch bothered. "Nothing bad, I hope?"

Ol-j-man

 

[medigel]

"Didn't have trusty witch n' broomstick," Mort sighed, reprimanding himself openly. Belladonna's concern and annoyance was both deserved and welcomed--he would be berating himself for answering the call for the next few days if not the rest of the week. Hadn't he promised himself not to look for more trouble? As if the whispers weren't enough.

He paused at her question, nibbling on his chips. "Not . . . bad, no," Mort said at length, his brows drawn down in thought. "Was . . . Is hard to describe. Was just me at first, but time passed in dream way: things happened, found power, became like, er . . . Mrrr . . . inventor of reality? Something like that." He had become more. "Word for it is Ancient: like big concept of somethin' everyone's scared've. Think things like Death, Time, n' stuff. Was Ancient've Evolution."

It sounded a little lame saying it aloud, but Mort could still remember what it was like to have what felt like infinite power over all of existence, the ability to shape the hows and whos and whys. He shivered at the idea now.

"When came out've door, was as king self again. Some've the others were there too, so can imagine was nice big party . . ."

AyeAvast

 

[AyeAvast]

Her joke hadn't gone over well at all, and while it was tempting to join in the reprimanding (she had the best nose-in-the-air-look and hoity voice for just such an occasion), Belladonna couldn't bring herself to lower her lover further. Instead she sighed and moved a little closer, her knee nudging his in an attempt to push him over so she could move to his side fully.
"Yes, well. We cannot all be as well equipped as me." Another smile pointed up at him along with a bat of eyelashes.

A small breath left her when he said his vision were not bad, something the witch had been very much afraid of. Things always turned out unwell it seemed, so it was nice to hear him seem more concerned over the confusion rather than over another event gone wrong.
"Oh... You were an Ancient... How... Oh!" Momentarily distracted, she turned her head to think about that. What would that have looked like? Very dashing, she supposed... There would be a cape involved, undoubtedly, probably armor and oh he must have been very imposing. Oh...
She lets a dreamy sigh fall from her before she turns back to him.
"That must have been... fun!" Really, she ought to move on from this bit of conversation but oh... She simply cannot help herself. A bit of energy enters her movements as her fingers tap against the mug, her cheeks a bit pinker than before. "Do you remember much of it? What you looked like and all? Were there other Ancients? It must have been quite a lot of fun... Did you get to chose? What would I have been, I wonder?"

But disappointment colors her face a moment later and the witch sits back, her spine pressed to the wall.
"Oh... So you... There was a royal reunion?" And she hadn't been invited... Naturally.  

[medigel]

Of all the things Belladonna could have done, he shouldn't have been surprised to find her romanticizing the whole experience. Mort chuckled as he scooted over and gave her some room. "Not really fun, more . . . bizarre?" he admitted. "Didn't have control over own body or anything."

And then he heard it. The silent pout.

"N-Not everyone was there!" he was quickly to say, as if this would soothe her. "Wasn't really reunion, more like coincidence, n-no party're anything. Was big fight going on with horsemen n' hunters." As always.

Mort explained to her how Medea had somehow gotten all this power and had literally struck down Death in the middle of all the fighting, and that in the aftermath he still didn't know what the consequences would be. As an undead, he didn't particularly feel any different . . . And this was Death after all. Could you really kill someone like that? Either way, the horsemen had more power, he imagined, and he rubbed his four clans mark absently as if feeling an ache radiating from the swirl.

"Other thing, though. In fight, Amrita n' other kings were acting really weird," Mort went on to say. "Couldn't say what exactly. But she touched me, n' felt something get inside Core? Was . . . strange. Memories go in an out after that . . ." He told the witch about seeing a woman in black armor and how after that his mind just literally blanked out until he woke up with the rest of thestudents back at Amityville. From there was a short crawl and text message to his ghoulfriend (spewing apologies), and there they were.

"Head still hurts," he mumbled pitifully with a wince.
 

[AyeAvast]

If she didn't know better, of which she almost always did, the witch would have sworn he noticed her oncoming frown. Which seemed a completely logical thing, now that she thought on it. They had been dating for years, of course he could see the tell-tale signs of a pout coming on and really she ought to be upset could he have not picked up on her silent cues.
Which really only served to cast everything else he said following in a better light, if only a little.
At his insistence that not everyone was there it becomes very difficult not to sass that well, of course not she hadn't been there, but the mention of a fight distracts her. What comes next is very information heavy and the witch goes quiet to listen, one hand falling from her cup to touch him and savor the chill under her palm.

After all his talk, she only has one question.
"So Death is... Dead?" That doesn't quite make sense, especially since one couldn't really kill an idea or an action or an act of being, but Medea must have been much more powerful than the witch originally thought. Certainly a force to be reckoned with, but what did that mean for everyone who wasn't a Horseman?
Always so many questions and not enough information and Belladonna is about to open her mouth and voice them, but a whimpery mumble stops her.

She sighs, though not unhappily, and leans over to set her mug on the bedside table. Carefully, fingertips find blue temples and press lightly.
"You have had a very long day." She begins in a soft voice, a kiss placed between the zombie's brows. "And it all sounds vastly... Confusing." Though she would have to have a talk with Amrita about touching other people's boilfriends and sticking things in their cores. "Nothing else happened though? Can I help in any way?"  

[medigel]

Confusing was one way or putting it. "Don't think is dead," Mort said, deciding not to shake his head in case it removed her hands (nice, soft, wamr, lovely hands). "Maybe removed 'r imprisoned." It was more logical at any rate, or at least a hell of a lot more fathomable; if Death had actually died, where would he and others like him be?

"Nn-nn, nothing else. I think." He did still feel tired, though. Please nothing else.

Setting the bag of chips aside, Mort began to quite smoothly clean his fingers of chip flavor dust and wiped them on his shirt, trying to be as clean as possible before attempting to tug Belladonna into his lap. "Think might need a lil' cuddle," he said with a smile, returning the favor with a more proper kiss. "Cuddle n' nap'll fix it up." Although given the time, it was probably more "cuddle and sleep" for the witch.
 

[AyeAvast]

"Certainly not dead..." Once more she adopted a far away gaze, the wheels of her mind turning in attempt to figure this all out. "Perhaps... Imprisoned yes. Do you think he needs rescuing then? I am not very familiar with the person, after all..." Somehow she is able to think hard enough that when the witch finds herself pulled into his lap, Belladonna is unable to fight... Not that she would have.
"A nap, hmmm?" She grins against his mouth, pulls back and smooths a wayward piece of his hair. "Will you really sleep, or will you play games while I sleep?" Neither mattered, she just needed to know what to prepare for.
And by that she meant she needed to know how much she could bother him before she fell asleep.

"You are lucky we do not have class until later in the afternoon..." Its an odd hand statement said between pressing kisses to various parts of his face. "Lucky part of being so close to graduation, I suppose."  

[medigel]

He could imagine it now: the next big adventure for the popular witch and zombie battle couple, to free Death! "If needs rescuing, know just who to call," he said with a smile. It froze a little at the mention of graduation, however, and Mort was never one who was good at being subtle; his smile turned into a wince, and then he tried not so smoothly to shrug it off.

"Mrrr . . . I-Is close, huh."

They could discuss that . . . later.

The yawn snuck up on him , and his stitches stretched a little as he leaned back further into the pillows and childishly tug Belladonna more into his arms. "M'gonna sleep this time, love, sorry," he mumbled, wishing his headache would go away. "Day was kinda long." But surely all of these cuddles would make up for it!

AyeAvast

 

[AyeAvast]

A wink was passed to the zombie as she made herself comfortable and pulled back the blankets for them both. There were pillows to fluff, her hair to tie back, various other things to occupy her hands and mind so that the wince and look of mild panic was totally missed. That was really for the better, as the witch never thought to push the topic further, much more content to cuddle up to her boilfriend.
"Whatever are you sorry for? I am glad you sleep!" Belladonna rose up to kiss his nose, giving him a n** at the jaw with a playful growl to indicate she meant nothing by it beyond a joke. "Waking all bundled up in your arms is wonderful!" Breaking from that grip, maybe not so much, but the witch had learned to enjoy it nevertheless.

Another kiss was placed to him before she rose a hand to snap her fingers and snap the lights off. As silence fell, there began a dull, constant noise near the foot of the bed.
"Sounds as though Binx decided he would like to join the party." The delay in sleep meant another excuse for a kiss, of which Belladonna took, before she snuggled down.
"Sleep tight... Love you."  

[AyeAvast]

dreaming

There are white roses, or it is a very pretty gauze dress, or some sort of spell she hasn't fully formed yet, or it is all three, or none at all.
Belladonna never knows, but she doesn't always mind and tonight is certainly no exception. The thing in her hands is soft and doesn't flutter away when she rises to her feet, so it is either flowers or her dress, but when she moves forward across the floor she finds it is both.
A white rose crushed to the fabric of her heavy skirt held up in her grip, as though she ought to start a waltz, or run.

There is a clatter of her shoes on the floor, or marbles dropped against granite in a steady beat, or crystal rain drops, or nothing at all.
Someone is waiting at the end of the hallway, past the ornate green door and standing under the moonlight. They have called for her, she knows this if she does not know how they called her or for why, only that she should appear. That she wants to be there, that it is a great desire of her heart. As if to help speed herself up, a gilded weight lifts off her back and flutters gently.
How sad... She thinks as her feet leave the floor for three solid steps, her heels sharp sounding when she lands once more. But when she begins to trot forward once more in her large ballgown and familiar curls swept up onto her head, she cannot recall why she was sad. What is waiting for her is happy, surely it is, so Belladonna only hurries forward.

medigel

 

[medigel]

He remained half-occupied by the sudden thought of graduation and was thankful the witch didn't notice tonight. Moving and accommodating as she prepped them for bed, Mort felt his exhaustion suddenly double as he all but flopped back on the pillows, an earnest but limpid participant in his ghoulfriend's affections (though the growl managed to make him smile; she had been practicing!). He made up for it by enclosing Belladonna in a firm hold against him, locking his fingers to ensure she couldn't get away without a fight.

It would be harder for her in the morning, but at the time he wasn't really thinking beyond warmth, love, sleep. Not even his glasses were remembered.

"Night, Bellamoon," he muttered sleepily into her hair. "Night, Binx." Seconds after he closed his eyes, Mort was knocked out.
 

[medigel]

past, present, future

"So, er . . ."

This wasn't the first time he had stumbled into attempting to bring the topic up. Every time before, Mort had simply switched it to something else, something more immediate: that homework assignment, some text from a friend, a new series of videos he had found on Bootube. This time he was determined to move forward.

He looked up at her from his laptop, which was currently hosting the walkthrough to one of his games (Tales of Phantasmagoria), his mouth slightly open. Maybe--no, do it.

"So . . . Graduation, huh? Mentioned it a while back."

Which she had. In passing. A week ago.
 

[AyeAvast]

past, present, future

Poised carefully in the precarious place between falling and with her feet firmly on the ground, Belladonna sat in her desk chair and perused an old spell book. It was something her Grandmoonie had given her ages ago, told her that it would prove useful when she needed it most, and quite honestly, the witch never knew what that meant. Sometimes, on days like this when she had caught up on all her homework and done all her chores and organized her closet to the most detailed extent possible, she pulled the old thing out in hopes of understanding her Grandmother's cryptic words. They never made sense, today was certainly no exception, but it didn't hurt to at least try.
Since she was being idle, Belladonna had kicked off her boots and pushed a stockinged foot against the desk in an effort to tilt her chair back onto two legs. It was a simple thing to balance herself as such, she hadn't a care about falling.
"Hmmmm?" The witch hummed in reply, one pinkie pressed to her mouth as pink eyes scanned a page about the particular uses of larkspur blossoms. The text was quite interesting, but the words her zombie said did quite a number on her.

With a swivel of her shoulders and head, Belladonna turned in her chair to look at Mort.
"Graduation?" She chirped, blinked once at him, and fell backwards.
Initially she had meant to fall forward, to right her chair so that it stood on all four feet and leave herself momentarily jostled. Instead, it fell in the opposite direction as she leaned too much toward Mort instead of toward the desk and thus she went careening backwards. The witch only gasped twice, once when she realized she was falling and in a moment of ridiculous surprise forgot she knew magic that would keep her stationary, and then once more when the back of the chair hit the floor and smacked against her spine.

For a long moment she laid in the floor, still in the chair only on a different plane that she was used to being when she sat in chairs.
"I do recall mentioning it." Belladonna finally replied, as nonchalant as you please, while she lay there staring up at the ceiling.  

[medigel]

past, present, future

Like a true zombie, Mort was slow to act. One second she was perfectly balanced, the next she was on the floor. The crash jostled him to action and, nearly knocking his laptop over in his belated rush, he jumped to the witch's side.

"Bells! You okay?" he asked as he gingerly touched her shoulder, making to help her gently sit back up. "Dizzy? Bleeding? Wait, right, shouldn't be bleeding . . . Er, how many me's d'you see? D'you want ice on it?" His hand would serve just as well to be honest.

AyeAvast