thedispatch | (no subject)

[ Grasping onto his hands perhaps a touch too tightly, her footsteps falter once she realises that he intends to lead her outside - but she heaves a sigh and gives him her trust, moving onward.

Kneeling down in front of the bucket, she immerses her arms, breath sharp as the temperature stings her senses. Once her hands are clean enough, she reaches back to undo the fastenings to the collar of her shirt. She splashes water onto her face, fingers working back into her hair... but there's just so much. ]

I've a set a clothes on the bed that I wore into town earlier today... fetch them for me?

[ Her voice tremors, but not simply because of the cold. ]

And the scissors from the vanity.

[ William was about to kneel down beside her and assist in the washing when she gives him her request. And it has him pausing. Something about her kneeling there, trembling is all too familiar from the day they met when he'd tracked her down in the woods. ]

Do not leave this area.

[ He hopes she wouldn't, but he has this sudden fear that she'll flee while he's gone. Try to escape so she won't be a burden and bring him down. With a breath that comes out shakier than he'd like, he returns to the house.

The living area is only glanced at, the body hardly given any acknowledgement as he moves to the bedroom to collect the requested items. She's the most important, certainly not him. ]

[ It does cross her mind, to leave. William would not willingly let her go, after all, and there's no other way to salvage his life now. It would mean that she'd break her promise to him...

She eyes the horse tied outside the stalls, hands stilling at her shoulders.

No. The heartbreak over such a betrayal, after all that's come to pass, would be far greater a burden. Even if she can guess what might come of it, she feels that she owes him the chance to make his own decision.

By the time William has returned, she's stripped herself of the bloodied garments entirely - even if it's left her nude in the grass. ]

[ She's listened. Thank God, she's listened. Even so, he rushes to her side, as if she's a mirage that will disappear the next time he blinks. But she's there, solid. His hands still at her shoulders for a moment before finally taking her arms to help her dress.

Words seem to escape him again, as he focuses on the task at hand. Scolding her, reassuring her, he's not certain anything he says can help, in the moment. ]

[ Grell allows him to proceed however he wishes, a bit limp in his grasp. There's far too much rushing through her mind. Closing her eyes for a moment, she forces herself to snap out of it, pulling at the shirt to cover her chest. ]

Did you remember the scissors, darling?

[ The fact that she's still calling him darling gives a sense of normality to the situation. But it's the fact that she wanted them that still has his nerves up. ]

I did. What do you need them for?

[ They're tucked in his back pocket, for now. ]

[ Grell's gaze falls upon her reflection, muddled in the dirty water. Even so, she can make out her long strands, still partly matted with blood. ]

My hair.

[ The odd thing is, the colour of her hair nearly matches the blood that's threatening to stain it. William reaches up to push a clump of it away from her clean collar. ]

Do you need me to help?

[ Holding out her palm, she looks to him with a twinge of a smile. ]

Yes. By trusting me.

[ There's a short nod before he pulls the scissors from his pocket and places them in her hand. ]

I trust you.

[ A short nod of thanks, and she accepts them. Fingers rake through her strand, finding the first piece to cut. ]

If you run with me, you might die... You realise that, I'm sure.

I have already faced potential death twice. I am not fearful of it.

[ He watches the strands as they drift towards the grass below. ]

I made a promise to you, and I certainly can't keep it if I let you off on your own.

[ Ah, it isn't just the cold setting in, but the emotion that makes her vulnerable to it; she's shivering again. Even so, she persists on, becoming more hasty at snipping away the strands. ]

You've my permission to break your promise, William. I love you far too much to see you perish on my behalf...

If I wished to abandon you, I wouldn't need your permission. Doing so wouldn't bring me any form of happiness or relief. I would be up each night praying that you were safe and healthy.

[ Even though she's clearly not done with her hair, he pulls her into an embrace. ]

And I love you far too much to let you suffer though anything else on your own.

[ For now, she drops the scissors, in favour of burying herself in his arms. She must pause to swallow back her emotions. ]

I know your heart better than to think you would wish for such a thing. You're a good man, after all... I'm asking you to do so.

[ The silence that follows seems like hours as William's thoughts drift over every possibility they have to outrun this. ]

I cannot give you that. I'm sorry.

[ Pulling back, she wipes a hand beneath her glasses and across her eyes. ]

Well. I suppose that's it, then.

[ Fumbling about for the scissors, she turns the handles out for him to grasp - a silent request for him to finish the last of her hair, as she's become too much of a mess to do it properly herself. ]

I'm yours 'til the end.

[ William takes the scissors in hand, but before he moves to cut anything, he leans in to kiss her forehead. It's a comforting kiss, rather than one that may be more romantic. But somehow it's even more meaningful, in the moment. ]

Likewise, I am yours.

[ It's then that he does his best to trim her hair. The heavily bloodied bits are snipped off already, so he tries to even everything out. The final outcome is short and still a bit choppy, but William doesn't seem bothered by it. ]

[ Closing her eyes, she takes in the affections, desperately needing them in the moment. Even so, she doesn't expect to find herself in such a state of calm, following his words. Chaos abound, and all sense of identity that she had tied into her hair falling about her knees - none of it matters, so much as William remaining faithful to her in this moment.

Quietly, she fluffs her fingers through her shortened locks to loosen any snippets that may have stuck. Shaking out her collar, she buttons up her shirt, and pushes herself up to rise on uneasy knees. ]

My trousers, love?

[ He obliges, offering her a shoulder to lean on as she finishes dressing herself. ]

Do you know of anywhere we can safely house ourselves, at least for tonight?

[ Grell quietly mulls over that while she finishes dressing herself - gratefully using his shoulder to support herself, when need be. ]

My father's company owns a number of warehouses - a few I know of, in particular, are reserved for private orders, and only very rarely used...

That may have to do.

[ Once she's dressed, he looks back towards the house. ]

Go and pack necessities. I will take care of the body and clean up.

[ With a sigh, she cups his face. ]

I'm not going to leave you with that burden. It's too much.

We just cleaned you up.

[ Though, at that he notes the few speckles of blood that had splattered across her face. And handkerchief is fetched from his pocket. He wets it from the water pump then takes his time removing all he can find. ]

I have yet to change, so it will be more productive for me to do so.

[ Face softening, she cranes into his touch. ]

Will... [ Swallowing down the emotion that quells in her voice, she steals herself with another breath. ]

My old chest should fit him. We can load him into the cart and drop him from the docks. [ She says with surprising ease! ]