You never call me when you're sober

RE: TO BE TITLED

He was wearing his stupid necklace.

Lochlann was still human under the water. He was suspended in the current and, he imagined, this might be what it felt like to fly. He saw Guinevere's legs kicking and Lochlann swam past her, dark blur beneath the water.

He surfaced right in front of her. His pupils were dilated until not even a sliver of green remained. His dark hair was plastered to his skin and he ws barely breathing.

"Guinevere," he said. "Do it."

He didn't make a motion to pull her under, but he didn't get out of her way, either.

She left him no choice.

Lochlann dove under the water and grabbed her leg. He pulled her down far and fast, with a preternatural speed that brought them more than halfway down to the bottom of the lake before he released her again.

He was growing desperate and, now, Lochlann was growing hungry. He waited for her where the water broke the surface. The rain pounded down like bullets and Lochlann waited.

"Ye--" Lochlann said, but then stopped.

"Don't make me," he said instead. "You can stop this right now Guin. You know how."

He was treading water but he barely seemed to be moving. In this state, in the rain, in the lake, Lochlann was where he belonged. It felt false of him to be wearing this shape before her, but he couldn't change with his amulet on and, for some reason, Lochlann couldn't bring himself to tear it off.

He'd dreamed of this moment, too, but it was all wrong.

She wouldn't do it.

Lochlann bobbed in the water while Guin swam further to shore, and then, after a moment's hesitation, he dove back under the water after her.

He barely felt the cold but some part of him realized that, in his attempt to die, he might be killing Guin. He might not be dragging her down and tearing her to pieces, but it was cold out, and she was wet, and it was late.

He crashed into her when the water became shallow, pushing her up onto the shore and covering her body with his.

His mouth was inches from hers and water dripped from his face onto hers.

"Please, Guinevere, please," he begged."Please don't make me do this."

And then, he kissed her.

He didn’t plan on kissing her, but then again, Lochlann didn’t plan on any of this. He planned to be dead a half hour ago, but he was still here, and so was she, and now his mouth was on hers.

He blamed whatever powers she had for this.

He’d wanted to pull her under. Even now, he could feel the pulling in his stomach that sloshed like the wves of the lake in the rain. He could still pull her under, but he couldn’t. He could no more drown her in this moment than he could drown himself.

But he tried. He kept kissing her, giving her warmth even as he sucked her cold tongue into his mouth and ran his hands through her damp hair.

He finally broke away and leaned his face down to her neck, poised as though he was looking for the best angle to tear her throat out.

”Please,” he said. ”I…I want..”

“I want..” Lochlann hesitated.

Something flashed across his face. It was the expression of someone looking into a smoldering car and seeing a corpse staring back.

He kissed her again and then ran his hands up and down her body, rubbing warmth back into her even as he explored her curves.

“I want you,” he said.

He kissed her again and his hand found the gun on her side. He pulled it from her belt and pushed the handle into her hand. He guided it up to his chest and pushed the barrel against his heart.

The last time he’d gambled like this, Guinevere shot him in the leg.

This was Lochlann looking away from the burning car. He didn’t want to see what was smoldering inside of him.

She kissed him when she pulled the trigger which is how he'd hoped he would die. Of course, a better way would be dying while he was inside her, but he didn't want to dela with the logistics of that mess, and besides, even though he was hard and pressed up against her in the wet lakeside, he didn't want her.

He still hated her.

But it was a relief when the gunshot went off and numbed his ears. He didn't feel anything and this gave him relief; perhaps Dani didn't suffer then.

Six shots. It seemed fitting.

When he opened his eyes, the smell of gunsmoke and oil and the wetness of burnt lake water hit his nose, but not the smell of blood.

He touched his hand to his chest.

He couldnt' hear what Guinevere was saying because his ears were ringing.

His eyes were damp with rainwater.

"oh," he said.

Just....oh.

He was still covereing his body with hers. The only blood he could taste was from his busted lip.

"Oh."

He touched his chest but nothing.

The ringing in his ears was so, so loud. He couldn't even hear the rain.

"...I'll..." he reached over and took her hand with the gun, pressed it to his chest, and Lochlann squeezed the trigger.

It was empty.

He looked at her and just said, "You win."

He was still pressed up against her and now that he was there, soaking wet, his slick skin against hers, he found that he didn't want to get up. It wasn't that GUinevere was warm--it was the opposite, really--but it was that Lochlann couldn't seem to find the energy.

He felt like she'd killed some part of him anyway, but, maybe, that part of him had to die.

"I don't know what to do next," Lochlann said.

Guin sneezed and Lochlann auomatically replied.

"Bleshou."

Her hands were on his face and we was forced to keep his gaze on hers, as though she'd affixed blinders to his bridle and asked him to pull a cart. He was able to understand her even over the ringing in his tears.

Take me home.

It was a command, which, right now, was exactly what he needed. Lochlann felt lost. He felt like he wasn't supposed to be alive. This was exactly what he needed right now.

"Okay," he said. Despite the ringing, his voice was a near whisper.

He took his amulet off his neck and, immediately, Lochlann started to tremble. He wrapped the silver chain around the glowing pendant three times counter clockwise, and then tucked it into Guinevere's breast pocket.

He rolled off of her and then trembled.

The glamour around him contorted and faded like mist rising from the lake after the rainstorm. He was dark and sleek and built for speed. He'd dropped onto his front knees, bowing before her, waiting for her to mount him.

His black eyes watched her.

It was a test, almost.

He was hopeful.

His intentions had been innocent. As a horse, he was bigger. There was more of him to warm her with. He had a long mane she could tangle her hands in, become entangled in it, and then he could....

....take her to the lake.

He could warm her there. They could both be warm. It was so much warmer in the water than the air. There was no wind to chill them under the placid surface.

Guinever put the amulet around his neck and he fell into his human shape as though tossing off a jacket.

"Okay," he said.

He kissed her. His arms wrapped around her and crushed her to his chest. He hefted her up then and carried her like she was a wife.

"I still hate you," he slurred. He walked unsteadily, but he walked, and Lochlann headed deeper into the woods before he seemed ot realize that something was wrong.

"Your home?" he asked.