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Without Eedy Karn’s loud presence, the apartment fell back into the calming silence and ordinary atmosphere. No snarky comments picked especially to point at any potential weakness she sensed just like a predator smells and tracks blood. And the hunted prey could finally rest and lower their guard.
Dedra was surprised. During the unpleasant meeting Syril needed a break from his mother and her venomous words, and yet now he seemed to be well. No tension, no quickened breath, no jaw clenched so hard to make Dedra worried about his joints condition. No, he simply cleaned the table and made dishes. Even in the silence it seemed that he needed a time to process it but not drown in it. His fingers tenderly danced over the plates with a sponge - making the place clean and tidy had a calming effect on Syril and Dedra knew very well she must let him do it on his own. She would offer a helping hand, however experience taught her Syril would reject it.
Without him needing her, Dedra disappeared in their bedroom to change into something more comfortable. She felt restricted in the narrow skirt that wrapped around her silhouette tightly. She pulled the zipper and quickly slipped into her favourite pair of black pants. She also kicked off the high heels to change it for cozy flat boots. Without the heels she was smaller than Syril.
She approached him from behind while Syril scrapped the pots to get the creamy sauce from the edges. Dedra swung on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his body and kiss him on the back of his neck tenderly. Syril immediately stopped paying attention to the dishes, wiped his hands and turned his head enough to see her with the corner of his eyes. A small smile played on his lips. "There she is," he murmured and his hands covered Dedra’s smaller palms on his waist. "The hero of the day.”
A muscle in her face twitched.
"I didn’t do anything heroic," she answered flatly. Syril slowly turned his while body to face her. Part of her expected to find a new tail of hurt in his eyes, yet she found none. Just the little lines in the corners of his lips when he was about to smile. "You did," Syril insisted. "But don’t realise it, so I’m telling you now. And I want to tell you how lucky and happy I’m to have you."
There it was - the corner Dedra knew no way out as she still found it somehow unsettling and out of her character to express herself to him. Or people in general, but most importantly him.
Syril cupped Dedra’s face gently with both hands, which felt a little uncanny because usually this was Dedra’s way to express her wish to be close and intimate.
"Are you not happy with me?" Syril asked her softly and Dedra had to suppress the urge to gulp. There was no worry in his voice, he knew very well he had a crucial value for her - which surely didn’t sound as simple and direct as being happy. How only could she express her emotions as a woman who never had the privilege to understand them? She knew she felt safe with him. And not alone; in the past year he managed to fill not only her apartment, but also her very being with his presence. He made out of the pristine and quiet place a home. The wardrobe smelled with his favourite soap powder and that scent of clear cotton and herbs imprinted in her memory. Without its absence during her time on Maltheen Divide she felt anxious in that simple small room. Inside their bathroom Dedra was willing to share a drawer in the vanity she owned and Syril gratefully used it for his cosmetic products. Her kitchen finally served to its purpose instead of just simply being a place to make her caf and from time to time prepare a plain meal that was already pre-made from a store. He slowly learned what she liked - and Dedra had to learn it as well. It was kind of an experiment for both of them. Syril also knew very well she would eat smaller portions as her stomach was quite sensitive, so he paid an attention to include everything important even in the little amount of food.
And for the intimacy…
At the beginning Dedra decided to be direct and tell Syril that she isn’t used to be touched or close to another person. She didn’t want to test him nor scare him off, the truth was simpler: she was clueless herself about what she might like and find comfortable. He didn’t push her and Dedra was willing to try. And to their mutual surprise, it didn’t take even that long before she actually demanded to be close to Syril. When she came from work, she wanted to be treated with gentleness and tenderness and Syril was more than happy to provide. Perhaps they both felt awkward, stiff even, however with more time and experience they both enjoyed. Dedra adored when they simply sat on the couch, legs tangled together as she would snuggle to Syril from his lap and he would gently scratch her back with his fingers, occasionally planting a kiss in her blonde hair or on her temple.
Without Syril Karn, Dedra’s life would be missing something crucial. He became a certainty she couldn’t imagine to lose and pretend she could return back to her old way of living - no, surviving - and not care. Before sharing a life with him and having his name carved into her heart, soul and mind, Dedra didn’t even know she was able to feel something as low and loath worthy as jealousy. But when she sometimes thought of other women Syril could find a common interest with and became familiar with them, she felt the burning rage in her chest and worry in her stomach, both followed by the endless and oldest traps that could consume her: anxiety. Was she good enough for Syril? How could she be good enough? Wouldn’t he be happier with someone who would be more like him? Or at least less like her - less complicated and uneasy?
And here she had her answer. She didn’t want just Syril to be hers. Dedra needed to be his. His one and only woman, the object of his desires, attention and love.
His very own empire; strong, eternal yet worth of protecting and cherishing.
As if Syril knew there was a storm inside her mind, her leaned forward and gave her a kiss on her forehead. "Don’t overthink it much." Dedra closed her eyes and felt herself nodding. How could something in fact as simple as pressing lips completely distract her and tear the net of thoughts and doubts and theories?
"I’m happy with you," Dedra finally answered.