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 Posted: Mon Aug 26, 2013 5:09 pm
"The Crystal Caves have been breached. Secure all exits and portals. The Crystal Caves have been breached. Advanced hunters are needed secure the Caves. The Crystal Caves have been breached. Emergency generators are in use. The Crystal Caves have..."
"Oh my Goddd CLARICE SHUT UUUUPP."
Robert had been trying to ignore the alarms since the moment they'd blared through the speakers and woken him up. He was exhausted; another mind ******** of events were waiting to be unraveled in his thoughts, but right now, all he wanted to do was sleep, just sleep-
"The Crystal Caves have been-"
"If somebody doesn't turn that goddamn alarm off I'm going to breach their personal cave." He muttered into the pillows he was slamming against his face to try and drown out the sound.
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Posted: Mon Aug 26, 2013 6:09 pm
Petra was in no mood to deal with alarms, important or otherwise. The incessant scream of sirens and the sound of the Life Hunter's calm, perfectly controlled voice made no impact on her at all, her expression, as usual, completely devoid of emotion. Or... almost completely devoid of emotion, anyway. The death hunter's face looked a little drawn as she walked perhaps a little slowly down the hall, her blue eyes a little paler, a little more tired. With her snow-white hair, and the trailing white coat, it gave her the distinct appearance of a ghost, completely unperturbed by the mortal plain. Indeed, had it not been for the dark jeans and t-shirt beneath, a severe contrast, perhaps she might have been mistaken for one. Stranger things had happened at Deus than a ghost wandering its halls.
The shrill sound seemed to grow louder the father she moved away from the intended destination, as if the siren were attempting to drive her, one way or another, towards the Crystal Caves. Still, Petra ignored it completely, continuing down the same path she had been taking, the sound of her boots against the tiled floor swept away under the unholy shrieks which echoed off the walls. Every so often, she would turn, head down another collection of hallways, all of which looked identical, save for the numbers etched into the doors.
She was in no mood to deal with any crisis, in fact, because for once Petra Morris was having a crisis of her own.
Stopping at a particular door on the second floor, the worn look which adorned her face grew deeper as she stared at the doorknob, her severe expression softened by an ache that was hidden by the way she faced the door, an ache that drew her eyebrows down at the farthest corners, in a child-like way that was so unlike her that every day it took less and less time for her to need to escape to their room, just to keep up pretenses. Because when you were a killer, sadness was a death sentence.
Her hand lifted, hovered above the knob, never touching it. He wasn't coming back, was he? In the beginning, she had believed without a doubt he would return, as if it were any other mission, but...
...But hunters died. Not just occasionally or sometimes, but frequently, every day, by the hundreds. Any other mission meant nothing; no mission was safe. And they both knew that eventually, one of them would die. But she'd always figured it would be her... had always prayed it would be her. Because she was a death hunter, and he was a life hunter, and she had hoped that his healer hands -- his large, gentle, kind, warm hands -- would keep him in the labs, healing the burned, the eviscerated... healing her. She had always imagined she would die in his arms, his hands working feverishly to save her, and that she would be happy... because... she'd get to see him...
Her hand slid limply to the door knob. In the end, it would be impossible to know. Not unless the team that went out somehow managed to make it back... provide a death count... The sound of the knob turning was lost in the commotion still going on around her, as was the sound of the door swinging slowly open, Petra taking a few idle steps inside.
And then she stopped. Because on the bed, she could see the outline of a familiar-looking silhouette, making a vaguely lumpy shape beneath the sheets. It made her freeze, blue eyes more focused than they had been in days, pinpointed directly at the shape.
"... B-bobby?"
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Mon Aug 26, 2013 6:17 pm
Robert heard the voice, and knew just who it was. But his mind was such a bag of cats, that his reaction was less than optimal.
He stood up, much like a zombie, and rubbed his eyes with one fist while his other arm wrapped easily around his wife's small waist. He picked her up, right off of the floor, and carried her to the bed.
Then he settled back down on his side, and dumped her very unceremoniously on his head, stifling the sound of the alarm by using her body.
Welcome home, Petra.
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Posted: Mon Aug 26, 2013 6:26 pm
Oh... it was him.
It was really him. He was back, he hadn't died, and this thought made her giddy, made her stretch her arms out to him, ready to rush into his arms and embrace him and never let him go.
And then reality decided to say hi.
Robert's arm wound itself around her waist, and Petra found herself hoisted unceremoniously off the floor, much like a football being carried under the quarterback's arm. Arms and legs dangling, Robert carried his wife to the bed with all the romance of a sack of potatoes, her eyes going from teary to distinctly unamused during the course of the trip, until finally he flopped back down on the bed, dropped her over his head, and seemed to try to go back to sleep.
To which she responded by punching him in the gut.
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Mon Aug 26, 2013 6:40 pm
Nothing could have prepared Robert for being socked in the gut by his wife. He tried to lurch up, already forgetting that there was someone sitting on him, and just ended up lifting an inch before drowning in his pillow again. He flailed, his arms reaching out to pull Petra off of him as if that hadn't been his doing all along. And then he lurched up, wearily staring at her with a face that only a blind person could love. "WHATIDO."
His eyes focused, and when they did, his face went from groggy to goofy, smiling like he was about to fall asleep all over again.
"Mornin', sunshine." He murmured casually, dropping his arm around her waist and slowly slumping back down onto the bed.
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Posted: Mon Aug 26, 2013 6:54 pm
Although it hadn't been where she'd wanted to be to begin with, now that she was draped over Robert's head, she made no attempt to get off when he seemed to want her so. Not that that stopped him, in the long run. Despite laying quite log-like atop his head, chin propped up on a fist braced on the pillow, the gargantuan man's flailing effectively and perhaps a little violently dislodged her, sending his wife into a tumble onto her back against the mattress. He was lucky it was soft; it was clear that if he wanted to go, oh would they go. Hiking herself up onto her elbows, she stared up at the slouched form in front of her, eyebrows set in a hard, angry line. "I thought you were dead, you a*****e," she half-growled, half-snapped, her voice slightly higher-pitched than the monotone she normally used, "I spent the last three nights crying on a pillow I could swear still smelled like you. And now you come back, and all you want to do is sleep?"
Icy blue eyes followed Robert's motion as he swayed a little, focused with sharp intent as he began to drift off, body beginning to teeter like he meant to curl up and go back to sleep. "Don't make me punch you again," she added, her tone climbing just a little higher, frost glittering in her stare.
And, without giving him the chance to correct his behavior, Petra swung, decking him in the kidney.
Hell hath no fury like the wrath of a woman scorned.
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Mon Aug 26, 2013 7:13 pm
I thought you were dead.Now there was a sobering thought. Robert's eyes blinked and then stayed open, peering down at her carefully. She had every right to worry that he might not have survived that particular apocalypse, but he'd never really made the connection that this was the moment her fears had been put to rest. He was simply slow - slower due to exhaustion - and had come to terms with some simple facts. He was in his bed, that much had been obvious. It was familiar, and it was warm. He'd woken up alone, which had been the trend for many mornings lately. Their workweeks had turned them into ghosts, unseen but always there, at the corner of their vision. He would fall asleep smelling her, and wake up alone. She would return home to an empty bed that shifted at night, when neither of them had the strength to process that they were both there. Work had become their second wife, their part-time husband, for enough time to make him think that falling asleep alone in their bed meant everything was all right again. Because it was, wasn't it? Another punch, this time stinging his vitals hard enough to make him flinch, said otherwise. "Sorry, sorry." He whined, reaching out and gathering her up until she was all but lost in the cocoon of his arms. "I'm awake, I'm alive, everything's okay now. Please don't hit me anymore." x_Nata_x i added a quote so it is ez to find! Quote me when you post ok so I has it toooo
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Posted: Tue Aug 27, 2013 4:39 pm
Finally, she could see it was getting through to him. She saw the way his eyes cleared a little, the groggy lull beginning to lift slowly as he realized the magnitude of the situation, the understanding washing over his expression. And the moment he reached down to scoop her up gently into his arms, she knew for sure. The tension ebbed from her body, washed away by the warmth and strength of his arms wrapped so perfectly around her, pressing her into a close embrace. Immediately, her own arms wound around his neck, and she buried her face in his chest, inhaling deeply the smell of him, only him.
It was perfect. It was what she had wanted. Needed.
"Fine, I won't hit you anymore," she relented, her tone soft although she tried to sound put out by the request. Enveloped by him, it was hard to be anything but relaxed and content.
"You know, for a second there, I thought you thought I was Roberta," she mused softly, clearly meaning for it to be a joke, although there was perhaps just a little too much bitter jealousy and yes, perhaps uncertainty and fear, in her tone for her to play it off well.
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Tue Aug 27, 2013 5:08 pm
Roberta.
Another time, another place. Robert's reaction to the joke might have been different, before he'd been given certain choices. Choices that left their mark, but took away something far greater, and far more painful. He still chuckled, much like he would have, and though she couldn't see it, he rolled his eyes.
"Roberta, wow." He breathed out, with a little amusement. "I think I remember her."
Did he?
"She was, uhhh, hold on let me think." He pulled away enough so that her proximity didn't distract him from what little thoughts he had. "Your sister, right? Oh s**t, your twin - geez, sunshine. I mean I'm dumb, but come on."
He was confident he could tell the difference between his wife, and a girl he hadn't seen since he was a child in a farm. He settled in with her, happily unaware. "It's weird, thinkin' about when we were all kids. Been so long, it's almost like a dream."
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Posted: Mon Sep 02, 2013 12:14 am
Petra's brow furrowed, blue eyes filling with concern and suspicion. He must be joking, there wasn't any way he could be serious. But there was something about the way he said it, reminiscent of days long past, barely breathing the words, thoughtfully... there was just something strange about it. It made her pause, go perfectly still in his arms, her head tucked under his chin, pressed gently to his chest. He... thought he remembered her? Somehow, she didn't think it was irony. He sounded serious...
Amnesia? It wouldn't be the first time, or even unusual... not in this place.
Her frown deepened as he continued, pulling away so that he could think long and hard for a memory of a girl that should have been far too prominent in his mind. Pulling back a little, she sat quietly just off his lap, her legs still draped over his, watching him mull it over, unsure what to think. Something must have happened to him on that mission. He was acting kind of weird...
"Yes... my twin," she replied slowly, carefully, watching him side-long, "I guess it has been a while."
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Mon Sep 02, 2013 12:20 am
"Yeah, like.." He started counting on his fingers. His mouth moved as he said each number without actually saying it, but at least four times, he lost his place and had to start all over. Finally, he came up with a solution to this complex math problem. "Eight! It's been eight years since the last time I seen her.. ********. Time flies." It flew farther than he knew. "I'm sorry if that upset you." He could see she was being hesitant, suddenly looking at him like he had something in his teeth. He sucked his teeth - just in case. "But I'm sure I would have known the difference. You guys aren't that alike." He grinned, reaching out to settle his hand on her cheek. "Can we stop talkin' about your sister? I've got some catchin' up to do."
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Posted: Mon Sep 02, 2013 8:27 pm
It hurt. More than anything, it was the wash of pain of hearing those words that was the worst, the sinking in her stomach that somehow made the corners of her eyes prickle, which didn't make sense and yet none the less was true. She allowed herself a second of grief, anguish squeezing her heart in her chest, threatened to crush all the air out of her lungs.
And then she took a slow, even breath, and got down to business. She slid her eyes closed, and when they reopened there was ice in her midnight eyes, a cold stare that meant dangerous things when it came to this particular death hunter. Robert reached out to cup her cheek, his hand large and as gentle as ever, but Petra didn't react, didn't move an inch until his skin touched hers. And as soon as it did, like a flash of lightning she snapped up to grab his thumb in her fist, twisting it backwards until it was just shy of broken. "Eight years?" she said, her voice dead and dangerous, completely monotone, "Your intel is a little outdated."
Her other hand shot out before the words had completely dissipated, iron grip latching onto the bicep of the same arm she had hold of, and, using it as leverage, she flipped him onto his back, throwing a leg over his hips to straddle him.
It wasn't Robert. She'd let her guard down; she'd been so lost without him, so despondent that she had seen what she'd wanted to see. She'd let his strange behavior pass because she'd hoped he was just tired from the mission, but she'd been a fool. It wasn't him.
"Where is my husband?" she said in a razor tone, increasing the pressure by millimeters to twist his arm to a painful degree.
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Mon Sep 02, 2013 8:45 pm
Her skin felt soft against his rough, cold hands. That was easy enough to focus on, which kept him from noticing how strange she was acting until her eyes re-opened. She looked at him in a way he'd never remembered seen before. His fingers froze, and his expression went dumbfounded with confusion. Then she almost broke his thumb and all bets were off. He yeowled like a dying cat, easily dropped to his back when she pushed him. All he cared about at that moment was how much that had ******** hurt. He tried to reach over to cradle his thumb, but she held his arm in a vicelike grip, and the pain lashed through him like lightning. "STOOOPPPPPPPP," His scream turned into a whimper, because this was Petra hurting him, Petra - and now she was asking him where her husband was, because - because - Because she thought it wasn't him. "Puh-please ow ow Pet please ow it hurts owwwww PET STOP IT - " He was getting angry, and his rage was starting to over-ride all of the safety checks he normally kept in place when handling his wife. He wanted to surge forward with all of his strength, bend his arm back, and send her flying into the wall - No. "Pettt," His whimpers were turning desperate. "Please baby, you're hurting me - and I don't wanna hurt you." Was that a threat? Or just an honest, desperate request?
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Posted: Mon Sep 02, 2013 9:12 pm
Oh god, he was screaming. Just his voice in pain almost made her let go, almost made her break down and hold his head and whisper how sorry she was. It felt like a knife had just slid between her ribs, in that way that made you feel cold with shock. Watching him beneath her, his face distorted in confused pain, she felt sick -- deeply, violently sick -- the bile rising up in her throat. He was the only thing she cared about in the world, the last beautiful thing worth fighting for, the only thing that kept her from reaching that point all hunters seemed to reach, where there was nothing but darkness and hate. Protecting him was the only thing that mattered to her anymore.
And she was hurting him.
She almost let him go. Almost. Instead Petra got mad, because if she didn't get mad she would never have the strength to do this. And this could be her only chance to get him back. He was the only one who could make her lose her cool, anything to do with him and she became irrational, wildly passionate in a way no one else could make her be.
Jerking her eyes away from his face, she grimaced, squeezing her eyes tight for a second, cracks beginning to form in her perfect facade. "Eight years... eight years, who are you?" she snapped, her own control beginning to slip, "If you've hurt him, I swear I will make you wish I would kill you."
One thing was for sure -- the longer he whimpered, the more she knew this wasn't going to work. Not because she thought he wouldn't bend, it was an effective method, one she'd used many times, but because she would break before he would. So instead of breaking his thumb, Petra leaned in closer, watching him threateningly, until there was a subtle 'click', and a pair of handcuffs closed around Robert's wrists, securing them to a slat in the bed frame. Only then did she let go of his thumb, sitting back up, that frigid exterior returning.
"Don't make me repeat myself again. Where is my husband."
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Mon Sep 02, 2013 9:26 pm
Who are you?Robert realized that it wasn't the force of her hold, bending his arm in unnatural ways, that was making his eyes tear up with pain. It wasn't the physical agony at all, in fact. She didn't know him. She didn't know it was him, and he had no explanation for why. "WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I'M NOT ME?" He roared out, his face twisting with a raw anger. Was she losing her mind? Had something affected her during her missions? Or was it really all as simple as she just didn't recognize him anymore? When she leaned in closer, he tried to see as far into her suspicious eyes as he could. He tried to let her see that it was really him, deep down inside. His brow furrowed in one last pathetic attempt at hope - And then the handcuffs clicked, and that little flame of hope died. "GOD ********' DAMNIT PETRA!" His arms flung forward, trying to break free of the prison he'd now found himself in, but all he managed to do was make the bedstand creak and splinter. It was thick enough to hold him - and damn him for springing for an expensive bed once he'd hit hunter status - but it was not without a fair share of damage. And now he was mad. Very, very mad. Petra had leashed him, but the monster was still there, boiling underneath his skin. For the time being, it almost wasn't Robert. A self-fulfilling prophecy, then. "I am right. ********'. Here." He growled, his voice thick with danger. "You just handcuffed your husband to the bed. I hope you're happy."
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