The home of all things Lost bar and Tavern (O/H/WALK IN)

[Rose Scented]

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It was easier to think, to feel something other than impulse when the door of the bathroom barred him from sight and a breeze from the open window trolled through and swept away his scent.

As the sound of the water stirred mutely behind the door, Skye lowered herself to sit on the edge of the bed, sinking into the down mattress to thunk her elbows onto her knees. Her chin took up on the pedestal of her palm, and for a long moment she contemplated the situation they were thrown in, sorted through the memories she had taken from him, and groaned as a headache started to throb behind her eyes. Pain spidered outward to sting in her temples and Skye gave a firm, demanding shake of her head to knock the thoughts away.

There were better times to think about such things.
Such as when she wasn’t in something quite as accessible.

The idea was appealing. To stay in such a vulnerable state of dress and take advantage of the oddities in his head, but Skye was not a cold hearted b***h, as much as she liked to play it that way. So she stood, unwrapped the towel from her torso and threw it across the arm of the chair before digging through the drawers of her dresser. Eventually she settled on a loose fitted t-shirt with the Rolling Stones label englossed on the front, and a pair of black shorts. From the bottom drawer ( the drawer deemed ‘The Ex-Boyfriend Drawer’ ) she withdrew a pair of black sweatpants that would more than likely hitch up to his ankles considering he was quite a bit taller than most of the others she had been with, but they were better than soaking jeans. Nobody liked chafing.

Draping them across the foot of her bed, Skye moved over to the vanity and perched on the short stool in front of it.

When Avery stepped out she turned her gaze to him in the reflection of the mirror, and her mouth went dry as her gaze decidedly turned to places they shouldn’t. Not that she could help it, not with the deep V of his hips far too prominent with the lazy slope of the towel around his waist.

“…I found you some pants…”

[Milkseik]

He can't help but smirk a little as she practically devours him with her eyes. In place of drool, weak words tumbled from her lips, issued to the general vicinity of... well... his junk. "My face is up here." His says, jabbing a thumb towards his chin, trying not to laugh at her dazed expression. She's all set up to paint her face on, and he thinks it's a real shame. People don't walk around painting eye liner and mascara on portraits of beautiful women, and it baffles him that she does that very thing to herself, but it's a trivial matter best left alone.

Shaking his head with a 'tsk' and a grin, he walks past her to the pants she's mentioned but failed to indicate, enraptured as she's been with his waistline. He catches the fabric up in his fists and hooks his fingers into the band, pulling it taut against his hips. They'll be a tight fit, a little too snug in all the wrong places, and as he cranes his neck to stare down his front, he's disappointed to find that they're a good 6 inches too short as well.

"What kind of midget p***k do these belong to?" He jests.

The good humor fades as he draws his own conclusion, and he cuts her a sharp look of disapproval. "I guess you've been busy since you ran out that morning." His tone is dry now, exasperated with both her and himself. It's bizarre, how a half recalled memory can have him so on edge, so resentful of this woman and the life she represents that could have been his, hers, theirs. It's all a bit rich coming from a man who just recently had a baby with the same damn woman, except... she's not the same.

He throws the garment aside petulantly. "You can't honestly expect me to wear those." Because they're too small, or because they are used will be left up to her to decide. Either way, he'll run naked through the bar before he ever puts those pants on.

[Rose Scented]

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My face is up here.

In a very purposeful manner, Skye dragged her eyes from the cut of his waist, tracing every divot and shadow on the way back up, finally meeting his gaze with a broad, open smile. “I wasn’t looking at your face.” A golden tinted eye winked with a cocky air, and her gaze returned to her own reflection. A small jar of some moisturizing cream or another was unscrewed and carefully smoothed into place. Small, circular motions made sure it was well blended in, though she was abruptly stopped when he commented on the pants.

“I don’t remember. Just some guy,” a nonchalant shrug tossed her shoulders carefully up and the jar of cream was screwed closed and tossed back onto the surface of the vanity. It rocked around on its side and tumbled back into place amongst the other various beauty products, most of which she certainly didn’t need. Her fingers were flicked out to scoot it away from the edge and her elbows were placed onto the vanity, and her chin dropped into both palms to meet his gaze in the mirror.

You can’t honestly expect me to wear those.

Skye smiled in a darling way at him, batting her naturally long lashes in an innocently devious way. “Weeeell, it’s either you wear the midget p***k pants, or you go naked. The choice is yours. I certainly can’t force you one way or another.”

She drummed her fingers once against the apples of her cheeks and then dropped her elbows off the polished wood and plucked up a plain tube of chapstick.

[Milkseik]

His lips part in outrage, his own eyes flashing waspishly in the polished surface of the mirror. Her innocence is lost on him. The apples of her cheeks are rotten, just like her attitude and those damnable pants that he will not wear. She's infuriating, and if she knows what's good for her she'll wipe that saucy smile off her face.

Instead, she emphasizes it, tracing the pursed contour of her lips with a tube of clear balm.

You started it, he thinks to himself as he walks up behind her, holding her reflected gaze. He flexes his muscles collectively as his own mouth curves in a wicked grin. "Fine." Avery says simply, jerking the tucked edge of the towel free with a casual tug.

It drops to pool at his feet, and her body between himself and the mirror is the only coverage left to him. He folds his arms across his taut chest, slits his ocher eyes, and smirks.

"Naked it is."

[Rose Scented]

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Fine.

Skye’s eyes were drawn from her own reflection to the dangerous expression that crossed his face, and try as she might it was impossible to keep the animalistic, hungry gleam from cauterizing her eyes gold. By some grand force of will she keeps her overall expression even and forces her eyes to stay on his, internally amused by his belligerence.

Naked it is.

There were a thousand things that she could have done. A million scenarios that would have been memorable. All too easily could she see the curve of her mouth finding the various spots that she knew he favoured, could see the cocky gleam in his eyes as he did the same, but… She merely switched her gaze back to her own eyes and focused on the thin, neat smear of balm.

“You might regret it. I hear the floors here get quite drafty,” she responded, her voice wry with want and yet miraculously contained all the same.

[Milkseik]

She can be as cool as a frozen cucumber, but her eyes give it all away.

He shifts closer, lowering his arms from his chest. "Hey... don't be like that. His voice is low and rough as the hands that embrace her shoulders, sliding along her creamy texture as he works his fingers over her muscles. Smooth strokes ease the tension from her neck and upper back, slow and firm and relaxing.

"If the floors are that drafty..." He murmurs as those big, bronze hands glide outwards. "...Then I guess..." Warm fingers trail down her back and around, tucking below her upper arms, and he captures her gaze in the mirror once more.

"You'll find out for yourself."

In one rapid motion he lifts her just enough to take her weight off the towel, curls his fingers into the upper edge and rips it out and away, leaving them both bare as the day they were born.

[Rose Scented]

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Warm palms and large fingers, mildly calloused and rough as a man’s hands properly should be, found the tense knots and locked muscles that had her spine as rigid as a steel pole. Against her will the ridge of her shoulders loosened and lowered from their held posture, but her eyes remained narrowed with suspicion. His voice was low and husky, sweet and utterly undeniable. Skye felt like Pooh Bear, waiting not-so-patiently to dip into the honey pot sitting in front of her.

His hands moved down, and Skye was abruptly aware that she needed to stop him, the touch of his skin far too irresistible for it to end well. His words are a mask for a more dishonorable and perhaps not so playful intentions, and she found herself helpless in their thrall.

Skye’s lips parted and his name started to peel from her tongue on a fluttered breath, when his intentions came clear and her towel was unwrapped and flung away.

The spell of relaxation was broken and Skye was up and grabbing for the sheet of terrycloth seconds after it was gone, laughter she couldn’t stop riding his name as she reached for it.

Looking back later, Skye would never be sure when exactly it happened. She couldn’t pinpoint just when an amusing struggle for the barely dignified scrap of white cloth turned into something more, but suddenly she was covering his mouth with hers and dominantly taking what she’d wanted since he stepped through the doors, with one hand buried in his tawny hair.

[Milkseik]

Avery snaps the towel away from her when she lunges for it, raising it high above his head as she scrambles, laughing, to retrieve it. They've both forgotten his own discarded below them - an easy solution - because, on a subconscious level, they don't want to remedy the situation. For the first time in years, Avery is awash in genuine happiness, and it transforms him from a snide, satirical man to something purely angelic.

The cold, iron grip slips away, and his heart beats freely.

There is no guilt, no indecision, no familiar voice in his mind telling him what he may and may not do. There's no one there to shame him into submission, to puppet him through a life that's not his own, pilfering his future. That Avery's mistakes are not his mistakes to remedy, and as Skye, his Skye, the real Skye, twines her fingers in his hair and molds his lips to hers, he's no longer a slave.

The light of liberty shines through his pores, permeating the matrix of his aura with a buttery glow, and the towel slips forgotten from his grasp. His chest swells with the rightness of it as his arms go around her and his eyes fall shut, a smile arching the press of his lips to hers in what has become the perfect moment. The lofty pitch in his ears has at long last leveled to something clear and pure as it resonates between them, a song of greeting as two parts become whole...

...and the rest is left unsaid.

[Rose Scented]

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If she were ever asked what the single most perfect moment was in the entirety of her life, she would probably always say that it was that kiss. All at once she felt blessedly complete, and miraculously at peace with the world around her. She no longer felt like she was fighting for a scrap of happiness in a world that was cold and unkind. The mistake she had made when she walked out all those months ago had been rectified, and the universe itself seemed to sigh in relief.

This time... This time wasn't clumsy as the world floated in amber. There wasn't drunken laughter and mad grabs for yet another bottle to keep the buzz going. It was slow, built up over and over as hours slowly eased by. Evening turned to dusk, dusk to midnight.

Sky didn't sleep for long, woken only an hour or so from the most peaceful rest she could remember. The breeze from the window had skated the curve of her bare back and had gooseflesh pimpling up over every inch of uncovered skin. She muttered out a quiet grunt of discontent and rolled over to peer into the darkness of the night, mentally berating the window for being so far away. As she eased up and stretched her arms above her head, moonlight poured down and flowed over the chisled lines of Avery's body. Shadows bloomed, silver highlights shone, and Skye was breathtaken by his beauty.

Two fingers were extended and a lock of mishappen hair was carefully brushed from his forehead. For a moment longer she openly admired, and then reality set in and she groaned to herself.

What would the other Skye have to say about this?

Both hands scrubbed at her cheeks, fingertips spread to catch the crystallized gunk in the corners and flick them away. The peaceful quiet that had fallen over her slowly cracked with guilt.

Skye eased from the bed and stretched her pleasantly sore muscles. She plucked the pack of cigarettes from the nightstand, discarding the cellophane topping and the silver into the wastebasket next to it to expose the tubes within. Her zippo, magically charmed to return to her when lost - as were all of her favorite jewellery peices - was lifted as well, and after wraping the sheet into a toga around her torso, Skye planted hersef into the sill, and slipped a filter between her lips.

She didn't want to think about the other Skye, but that's where her thoughts went. She selfishly wondered if Avery would leave the imposter of their time to stay with her instead. An image of a sandy blond haired child with amber eyes and Avery's nose quickly smothered the idea.

With an exhale of smoke that was picked up and swept away, Skye tilted her head back against the window frame, and looked to the stars. Never had she missed her mothers guidance more.

[Chef Zeke LeDeltrie]

ѦнɪЈɪτ

•:*´¨`*:•.•:*´¨`*:•

Ahijit looked to his owner, his water colored eyes widened. "E... Ele...vay... tor? Is more magic?" He still didn't know much about the modern world. But as soon as he smelled his favorite dish on the counter, he relaxed. As a sign of affection, he nuzzled his cheek against Mr.Gold's wrist before going to the counter. He nibbled happily at the Nethili varuval, the flavors of anchovies dipped in red chilies and turmeric and fried. He danced happily at the taste, his tail swaying behind him as he worked on the Rogan Josh afterwards. He loved the mix of the curry and lamb with the anchovies as well. Sure it sounded odd to anyone else, but to him, it was heaven.

Quote:

OutOfCupcakes: Sorry for being slow, sick irl. Also, yes, those are both traditional dishes from India where he's from. x3
Location:The Bar
With Whom: Mr. Gold and anyone else that's there

Roxanne_Aerovane

[Milkseik]

Tangled lashes part to frame a single golden iris.

It rolls lazily down and around, pausing on the shifting source of his disturbance. He blinks it into focus, then squints against the light piercing his pupil, burying his face in the sack of feathers cushioning his head.

A muffled "Hnnngg" comes from his side of the bed as her weight leaves it, and cellophane crinkles nearby. He gropes for her pillow and flops the cool side over his head, effectively blocking both light and sound, but the damage is already done. Avery rests for a time, breathing himself awake as his body begins to stir. He doesn't want to get up just yet - could easily lay here for hours in the lingering afterglow, but there's something reminiscent about being in this bed alone that has him up. The sheet slithers from his chest to pool at his waist, a single hand dragging down his face to get the blood flowing as his surroundings blur into focus.

His breath locks briefly as he scans the room, several things coming to mind at once.

He's in a bed that isn't his own.
He's in a room that isn't his own.
He's slept with a woman that isn't his own, and yet...
She is. She's his, and she's sitting on the window sill, draped like a goddess of Rome in a single white sheet.

The bated breath eases from his lips, but the tension remains. He throws the blanket from himself, scratching absently at his chest as he makes his way to do his business. When he comes back out a few minutes later, his jeans are dry and slung low on the V of his hips, shifting with his every stride towards the bedside table. His own cigarettes had been drenched to ruin when she'd shoved him into the lake, so he has no qualm with thieving one of hers and does exactly that, tucking a smooth cylinder behind his ear. He takes a moment to flip through his waterlogged wallet, and it falls from his fingers to slap the bedside table as he turns for the window.

"Do you mind?" He rasps for the second time that day, his voice still dry from sleep. His lips twitch in an ironic smirk around the filter of his cigarette, moonlight dancing through the gleaming surface of his eyes as he leans against the wall beside her.

A lot can change in twelve hours.

[Rose Scented]

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The mattress, as was ultimately discovered the night before, didn’t make a sound to indicate Avery’s shifting weight, but Skye’s sensitive ears picked up the shift of Egyptian cotton and the change in his breathing.

Golden eyes shifted from the sky to watch him work through the process of waking up, followed the shift of his muscles as he gracefully maneuvered his weight, and with a smirk in the corner of her mouth her head tilted and she admired the curve of his spine down to his a** as he paced to the bathroom. With the click of the door Skye returned her gaze to the velvet abyss, dotted with sparkling diamonds on a background of impossibly deep navy. Her thoughts turned to the night before and the memory of his hands as they chafed her skin and the taste of his mouth when his kisses drugged her.

A delectable shudder crawled up her spine, and Skye bit into her lower lip, the tender pink flesh rolled back and forth in contemplation.

The situation had gone from volatile to complicated in sixty seconds flat, and from what she had previewed in Avery’s head that was generally how he and Skye… the other Skye worked.
But… She supposed that wasn’t so bad in the long run. Sometimes volatile just meant more interesting.

The door opened and Avery paced out, once more draped in the jeans that made his a** look simply biteable, and he sniped a cigarette from the pack.

Do you mind?

“Do you?” she responded with a light snicker and a playful wrinkle of her nose.

The zippo was thumbed open and sparked to a flame on its way up, left to linger long enough for him to bring a cherry to life. As smoke snaked up and away she snapped it closed.

A silence followed, punctuated by the occasional billow of smoke. Without saying a word Skye gripped the sheet about her torso, twisted it to the side to avoid tangling it around her legs, and paced over to the dresser. The second drawer was pulled open, a pile of t-shirts was shifted to the side, and a gold half-moon pendant on a piece of black twine was pulled free from where it was tangled in a silk scarf. “I’ll help you bring her back,” she told Avery over her shoulder, her eyes locked on the pendant as it lazily spun from side to side, and caught the pale shimmer of the moon.

[sephirothsdeciple]

Just as expected. The elf had brought herself to the clearing where the three waited and watched, just on the outskirts, hidden from sight by the wind spirits. Odd, how the blackheart had not yet shown himself, as usually he would have been the first to show up to such an important meeting... At least, a meeting that was important to the Blackheart.

The three watched carefully ready to observe as much as possible. The boy had been haunting them since the turn of the year, and had hounded them like a beast with the scent of blood in the air. But they were not without their tricks. The wind spirits had carried rumor of a fight that was coming to this location and one of the combatants was excommunicated with all spirits but those of water. A clear indication that he would be here.

"Perhaps he will not come?" came the voice of a female of whom always dragged nails accross Telron's patience, even if her voice was barely even a whisper. Her desire for revenge was what would drag her down, and it would drag the rest of them down as well if Telron was not careful.

"He will be here, he would never miss a fight. That is what is so attractive about him is it not?" Came another female voice, again in a mere whisper. This one was much more cunning and dangerous. A wind clan that Telron respected, and kept his eye on. She was perhaps the only one who understood Seph's Madness without being madened herself. She was about the hunt and the glory of bringing Blackheart's head back to whatever pool of filth she had come from, a Secret even Telron was unaware of. Damned wind clan and their secrets.

"Enough, both of you," Telron said in a neutral tone that brooded no nonsense, "we are here for one reason and I wish not to miss a single step of this encounter. The more we learn now the less we will have to learn in the future." Unlike the two of them, who had the single desire to kill Seph, Telron, had other plans. He had believed in Gilgamesh's cause whole heartedly and would see it through, even if it was not in the way Gilgamesh had expected. The boy was so close to another state of existance itself and he wished to build that growth, even if the boy was constantly standing in Telron's way.

Seph had barely slept all night. Though Nakir had only wanted to practice it was still something to get excited about. His body had felt like it had been itching all night, and even Reaver had seemed a little excited. He had a good idea of the style of fighting Nakir might use and even had gone over other's her body type could handle. The possibilities made his skin crawl in anticipation of a good fight.

He had pondered for so long that when he realized it was past tiem he was there he quickly began getting himself ready. He threw on his bauldric and leather vest before sliding the Sheathed reaver through the leather loop at his side before cinching it snuggly around Her scabbard, running out of his room while he did so.

[Roxanne_Aerovane]

Rumple just laughed when he saw the wonder on AhiJit’s face. ”No an Elevator isn’t more magic. It’s science. It’s something men made to help get from one floor to the other without the need to climb stairs.” He chuckled and just watched as the young man ate his food happily. It was good to see someone so happy over food. Briefly Gold wondered where everyone had gone that was in the castle. He had faintly felt the presence of Morgan and his vampire bed mate but it seemed to have faded over time. Rolling his shoulders he just stuck with wiping off the counter and making sure things were stocked. ”So AhiJit, tell me more about yerself Dearie.” He asked curiously.

OOC: The Character Picture is also a link to his theme song.

[Roxanne_Aerovane]

sephirothsdeciple

"Just remember, anger is always your enemy. You must keep your emotions in check. The moment you lose control of them, you lose the fight every time."

Nakir Muriel

Rose shifted on Nakir’s body and separated shifting her form to look just like Nakir except this time with black hair. Both ladies bowed to one another before sitting back to back in the middle of the open practice ground. It was about the size of a football field and had little to no coverage in it. They had made it this way to give themselves a little more of a challenge. They were waiting for Seph to arrive and it seemed he was running late. Perhaps he wouldn’t show after all?

Both sighed at the same time before resting their hands on their knees and meditating. The auras around them would swirl and the wind stirred to life blowing their hair so it mingled together as one in it’s current. Power pulsed from the two of them as it was channeled between them before being released into the earth, and back to them. They had spent so very long buried within it’s loving embrace that the earth was part of them and they were part of it. Mother Earth would give them all the knowledge they needed. Even the trees on the outskirts of the field seemed to bow towards them and reach for them wanting to be closer.

"While I respect suicidal tendencies on most days, you’d do well to remember who you’re addressing and, more to the point, what I can do to you. No one says you have to go back in one piece."