A Proper Goodbye (Redemption Citadel)

A proper goodbye

Warnings for blowjobs, and descriptions of fluids.

A proper goodbye.

On the morning that Cassandra was due to leave Varian wished her goodbye on his own. It was a few hours before she'd actually be leaving but he knew that there would be a gathering of people then, and he had needed to say goodbye to her on his own. If it had been in front of people he may not have been able to hold himself together. He may have suggested that she leave, may have seen how much she needed it, but that didn't mean he was happy about the situation. He'd never stop her though, he was in love with a wild spirit, and he didn't care to cage her, because it would take away one of the things he loved most about her.

That morning he had locked his fingers in her hair and bent to kiss her, long and slow and deep, again and again, trying to save as much of her into his memories as he could. He'd sat on the bed they'd been sharing and buried his face in her stomach, his hands resting on her waist as he'd whispered to her.

"I love you, and I'm going to miss you every minute that you are away."

Her hands folded through his hair, scratching lightly at the back of his neck. She kneeled in front of him, taking his chin in her hand and leaning forwards to kiss him once more.

"I could stay?" She whispered back.

He gave a sarcastic laugh.

"Stop tempting me. I know you'd be unhappy; I know your next path is different."

"I'm taking the same path just slower. "She assured him with another long kiss, and he'd kept his eyes closed long after it was over, hearing the door open and her footsteps going down the stairs. He just hadn't been able to watch her leave him.

He knew she was gone now, she had planned to search the rubble of her room and then say goodbye to Rapunzel and the others at the entrance to the Forrest. He knew that every minute she was moving further away from him.

He brushed the dirt off of himself, still searching through the rubbish, if one lock box had survived there was a possibility that others he'd kept stored under his bed had survived. Months of work destroyed, yet he did not care, because everybody was alive, and that was enough for him. Still, the ideas from his head were still in his head, he could write them down again, especially now his arm was out of its sling. He raised his hands out of the rubble, sighing at the black ash that was covering them. He rubbed his hands together trying to remove the worst of it, but it didn't work.

He sighed, as he walked into the room that had been the shower. He hadn't been in there since the fire, but he found it untouched. He guessed he should have known that it wouldn't have been hit hard there was no wood, no fabrics, nothing for the fire to take a hold of. Though the tiles were smoke covered and some by the door cracked.

He went to examine the pipelines, finding them to be seemingly unscathed, as were the water tanks. It might be working. He walked over to the dial and turned it on to see a fresh steam of water burst out from the shower head. He let it run for a while, allowing the steam to fill the room. He took a deep breath, feeling the moist water entering his lungs, he felt like it was cleaning out his smoky lungs, a week on and he still had coughing fits but the moist air felt good.

He looked at the dust lining his arms, where he'd pulled up his shirt sleeves. The shower had been running for long enough now for him to judge it safe. He started to undress, and stepped under the water, giving a sharp gasp as the water the wound on his neck. Yet as it ran over his limbs he started to relax, he hadn't felt clean since the fire, with his arm wrapped up and bandages over his neck, and almost an entire week in bed, he needed this.