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 Posted: Sat Mar 11, 2006 1:07 am
Welcome to Paradise
Chert and Valentine Arrive At the Island James Brodstrom James tapped his foot impatiently as he looked at the clipboard with his newest order. Two of them eh? From what he understood from Aubrey these two people even used to know Moreau. James was suprised that freak was even human sometimes. He stood out on the lonely dark airstrip occasionally running his fingers across his gloved hands and looking at the watch he had on one of his arms. Come on... Come on... James thought as he saw a Limo approach. Oh good god... James gave an internal exasporated sigh. Who took a limo to a dark helipad in the middle of the night. Even if she was hot. James nodded his head and looked at the approaching woman from behind his dark sunglasses. She matched the description, even missing the finger. "Hello Ma'am, please get aboard." he said in that deep voice of his and nodded his head motioning towards the helicopter. Valentine Hawthorne Valentine stepped out of the limo, fluffing her hair and giving a grateful smile to the chauffeur, then turned around and began tugging at something that was in the limo with her. Slowly, bags began to emerge: one, no, two enormous suitcases, apparently stuffed with items, a thick briefcase, and a handbag. All of them were brown, decorated with a repeating intertwined "C" logo. After those were cleared out of the way, Valentine disappeared head and torso into the limo, searching for something. She reemerged almost immediately, shaking her head and looking a little peeved. "It's not there," she growled at the chauffeur, then bent down to rummage in her handbag. Smiling triumphantly, she pulled out her hand, clutching tightly to a black cell phone. "Of course," she told James, then stuck her cell phone back in her purse and began to wheel her baggage over to the chopper. Her cell phone began to ring halfway there, to the tune of "Brindisi", and with an exasperated sigh she halted and dropped half the bags, then flipped her cell phone open. "Hawthorne here," she cooed into the cell phone, then flapped her hand apologetically as the chauffeur stepped up and began to wheel her baggage the rest of the way. "No, no, I'll only be gone for two weeks at most. No, tell Jameson he needs to hold off the merger until I get back from - yes, Cindy and Helen can have - no, no, I'm sorry Roger, I'll have to call you back." With a satisfied sigh, she snapped her cell phone closed again, then followed the chauffeur the rest of the way to the chopper and climbed in. The chauffeur handed her the baggage piece by piece, which she carefully stacked next to her. Her handbag was last, which she carefully placed on her lap. "I'll see you in a few weeks, Benson. Please, tell Roger not to worry about me, I'll be fine." She smiled at the chauffeur, who smiled back, and then retreated to the limo and drove away. Valentine heaved a gusty sigh, then rubbed her arms briskly. "Chilly in here, ain't it?" She asked James. Chert Sanders A low mechanical rumble began to grow in the air as a distant vehicle labored towards the private jet. There seemed to be more dust than actual paint on its body, and every-so-often it would let out what could only be described as a violent cough; this was a jeep on its last legs. The driver, however, seemed to be under the impression that he was in control of a very different vehicle, perhaps something red with a glamorous, aerodynamic shape and a muffler that actually functioned. He showed no inclination of slowing as he neared the air strip, hitting the breaks hard and fast at the last second. The jeep groaned and slid to a stop reluctantly. "Jeezus, Larry, you're not driving the ******** Indie 500." The snarl was clearly audible from inside the flimsy plastic windows of the vehicle. A man slammed the canvas door open and hopped out almost before the tires had ground to a halt. "You said you were late," complained the driver, whose face was obscured by the glare of a lamp-light on the windshield. The mud didn't help much either. "You're always complaining that you hate being late." The stocky man who'd just exited slung a duffle bag over one shoulder and latched the door shut again. "I'd rather be late than dead," he huffed ungratefully through the ******** you," Larry said, but his voice suggested that he was grinning. "Haa. Stuff it, you lazy sack of lard. I'll see you later." Chert waved as Larry turned around and drove off into the distance. It was only then that he realized there were two people already waiting. His eyebrows gave a small twitch as he spotted the limo. Just who else had Moreau invited along for the ride? James Brodstrom ames waited for Chett to get aboard and then turned on the rotors, he figured they'd work out who was who along the way. "I didn't notice Ma'am" James said as the helicopter lifted off, then he went back to being quiet. He figured they could keep each other entertained, which was great because... James hated conversation with the people he flew for. The helicopter sped towards the island. Valentine Hawthorne Valentine realized that the pilot of the helicopter was not a chatty person, and so to fill in the lull in conversation, she turned to Chert. "Valentine Hawthorne," she told him, and stuck out her right hand - the one that was missing the finger. She flashed the poor Chert a grin that was bright even in the dark, and continued her introduction. "I'm CEO of Blue Vine Institute, which is a pharmaceutical company. And you are...?" Valentine trailed off slowly, obviously implying that Chert should fill in the blank. Her legs crossed and uncrossed as she fidgeted, then hid a yawn behind her free hand. "Yes, and just to get it over with, I am missing a finger. It was bit- I lost it in an accident in high school." Valentine seemed to stop herself and change her story rapidly - she had let down her guard most unexpectedly, something she hadn't done in years. Perhaps it was her lack of sleep getting to her. Chert Sanders The man took her hand without hesitation, although he wondered in the back of his mind if the choice to use her right was a purposeful one. "'m Chert," he said shortly. He didn't feel inclined to give any more information than that to a total stranger- who knew what they'd do with it? At the mention of the high school accident, though, his eyes flickered in faint recognition. A memory slowly wormed its way to the surface of his mind. "You don't say?" Chert remarked, seeming interested in the conversation for the first time. He spread his arms across the back of his seat and grinned slightly. "It wasn't... bitten off, was it?" Valentine Hawthorne Valentine blanched, staring at Chert with wide eyes. "W-well, yes it was, actually. How did you guess?" Valentine searched his eyes for any sort of familiarity, wondering if perhaps she had worked with him in the past - back when she was more open with what had happened. Dropping his hand, her right hand clenched and went to join her left in her lap. "It was bitten off in my senior year," she elaborated, dropping her gaze to her hands. A bit of melancholy and self-pity crept into her voice, and she worried her bottom lip at she spoke. "An accident in the science lab." Valentine shifted again, propping her elbow up on the side of the helicopter and propping her chin in her palm. One hand went to her hair, twirling a side piece around her middle finger in what seemed like an old habit. Chert Sanders Chert's grin widened when her reaction confirmed his suspicions- there couldn't be many other Valentines in the world that had suffered such a unique accident. He recalled that most of the high school students had been positively delighted to sink their talons into such a deliciously gruesome rumor, and had been all-to-happy to circulate it until it was a dry, ragged corpse of a story. But his amusement waned as Valentine mentioned the science lab and woke up another memory; students had also been pretty consistent in their choice of the story's "villain." Some of the worries Chert brought along for the ride clamored for attention, but he clamped a firm lid on top of them. He was already in the helicopter. It was a little too late to be having second thoughts. "Yeah, that was a pretty eventful year," Chert drawled. His lop-sided smile reappeared as if it were part of a magic trick. "It's a big deal when one of the queens of the social hierarchy gets a digit chomped off like a ******** Twinkie." He pretended to glance outside of the helicopter's window, too, although in reality he was watched her discreetly out of the corner of his eye. "I s'ppose someone like you wouldn't remember me, but I was in a few of your classes. Mostly science." Valentine's vaguely flirtatious mannerisms were not entirely lost upon him. Chert had encountered females like her in the past- the type that could make the simple act of breathing seem like an enticing promise of pleasure. He'd never been able to figure out if the talent was something they had to carefully cultivate, or whether it was more of an inborn instinct that allowed them to effortlessly wrap men's heart strings around their perfectly manicured fingers. Either way, it wasn't winning her any sympathy points from the man that slouched in the seat across her. He seemed untouched by her doleful tone. Valentine Hawthorne Valentine wasn't altogether surprised to see him grin at her confirmation - the school rumor mill had torn the story to pieces when it had first leaked out. Her popularity had instantly skyrocketed even higher, and she had gotten 'Get Well' cards for months afterwards. It had been surprising how accurate the story had remained, and though the location and event had changed, the bad guy had always stayed the same. "Yeah. Though I prefer not to think of my index finger as a Twinkie per se, Chert." Valentine's returned smile was like icing - sweet, but glisteningly cold. "I remember, though, didn't you beat up on Moreau a few times?" She narrowed her icy blue eyes thoughtfully, mentally daring him to deny it. "Not much went unnoticed by the rumor mill. My friends liked to place bets on who was beating up Moreau for what reason..." Valentine paused, scrutinizing Chert closely. "I...might. I tended to sit in the front during class, but I think there was this one kid who kept cheating off of Moreau during his classes - sat behind him and one over. That kid beat up on Moreau a few times because he got caught cheating. Was that you?" Valentine turned further towards him, allowing him a generous view of her uncovered cleavage. Her expression indicated nothing but genuine interest, but it was impossible to tell if the action was purposeful. As far as Chert was concerned, he awoke no real feelings in Valentine. He was scruffy, but wasn't repulsive, and dressed decently for a guy - one couldn't expect all guys to dress for business, Valentine knew. She wasn't exactly dressed to astound, herself. Still, he didn't exactly impress her, and didn't seem impressed by her, either. Bummer. It was fun when the guys liked her and knew it wasn't going to happen. Chert Sanders Chert's eyes narrowed slightly. "I didn't cheat," his said. His voice was quiet, but it carried a slight undercurrent of anger. Apparently she'd hit a sore spot. "Maybe I roughed him up a little, though. High school wasn't exactly one of my proudest moments." It'd been one long streak of misery and frustration, actually- a pulsating boil on the face of Chert's life. He was annoyed that Valentine seemed to enjoy prodding at it with her questions. Not once did it occur to him that he'd been doing the same thing just a few moments ago. "Weren't you his lab partner, or something?" Valentine Hawthorne Valentine threw her head back and laughed. "That's ironic. High school, except for my senior year, was probably the best time of my life." The helicopter shifted suddenly, and Valentine's luggage went sprawling. A gasp tore from her throat at the sudden movement, and she clutched at her handbag nervously. Her face was pale, and she retrieved an inhaler from her bag, took a quick puff, and hastily shoved it back in. Her face closed quickly, though, at the question. "Yes," she clipped out tersely, and turned back towards the window. "I was his lab partner. Those...were the unhappy moments in my senior year." She turned back to the window of the helicopter, staring outside pensively. Her thoughts whirled in an unhappy hurricane inside her head, chasing each other round and round. The chief question that surfaced was: Why am I going to see Moreau? I hope he's forgotten what happened, all those years ago. Her body language clearly indicated that she no longer wanted to talk to Chert. Doctor Moreau Moreau smiled as the helicopter approached the island after a few hours of travel. They were here... he was estatic. Moreau almost always took pleasure in every single subject he... injected. But these two were special for him. Now admittedly, Moreau wasn't nearly as "heartbroken" by what they'd done to him as he would have had Aubrey believe. No, for Moreau this was about something far crueler: complete revenge. Showing them both that after all these years, he had the power. Maybe it was pretty, maybe it was silly, but none of that mattered when Moreau set his mind on something. As Aubrey sat in the jeep next to him, the helicopter came closer and closer to the ground. Till it finally landed, and James opened the door. Aubrey Lockheart Aubrey had pulled out her compact mirror and made some last-minute adjustments to her hair. She didn't know why she was so... concerned about what she looked like. I guess if this was the first time she was going to see that a*****e and that preppy Valentine again she wanted to at least look as presetable as she alwasys did. Maybe Valentine wasn't still the Playboy model-in-trianee she had been in high school. Valenine ahd insisted on hangout around Aubrey sometimes in the highschool, usually when she knew she would be going to see Nick. Aubrey wasn't exactly a supermodel normally, but seeing the look on guy's faced when she was forced to hang around some as perfect as Valentine. Well, Aubrey wasn't doing much better looks wise nowadays... but she held a certain refinement she was missing in highschool. When she put her mind to it, she looked much less frumpy, her hair could be styled and tamed into something that resembled curls, instead of the frizzy waves they fell into naturally. She sported a tan, which while it it made her skin glow and not look so pastey, it made her freckles stand out more. Her glasses her designer now, not the coke-bottle frames she would have worn in high school, and her attire had gone up in price. The helicopter landed and Aubrey clicked the mirror closed, looking over to Moreau, noting the look of excitement bubbling under the surface of his otherwise emotionless demeanor. "Showtime," she said to him with a smile, opening the Jeep door and walking with Moreau to the helipad to meet them. Chert Sanders Chert slung his single dufflebag over his shoulder and hopped out of the helicopter with a grace that seemed out-of-place in a frame so sturdy and inelegant. He was glad to be free of the icy silence that Valentine was generating. It was possible that the situation with Moreau had her a little on edge, also- Chert certainly wasn't exactly walking on clouds at the moment- but it seemed equally likely that he'd just rubbed her the wrong way. He glanced around and caught sight of two figures standing near a jeep (with side-view mirrors and everything). A surge of apprehension washed over Chert as he recognized the taller of the two. That red hair was hard to miss, and the characteristic grin even harder. Chert paused a moment, but forced himself to continue over to the pair at a brisk pace, figuring that Val must be able take care of whatever luggage she'd brought by herself. "Hi," he called. A brilliant start to the conversation. Just how did one approach the man one had used as a human punching bag once-upon-time? The woman standing beside Moreau seemed familiar, but Chert couldn't recall her name. Arial? Amy? He rubbed the back of his head uncomfortably and held out a hand in greeting, but could think of nothing further to say. Small talk wasn't his strong suit. Valentine Hawthorne Valentine followed Chert without thinking, hopping down from the helicopter, then turning to tug at her baggage. She moved with a sort of flowing grace, like a dancer's, but it was intuitive...much like everything else about Valentine. She thrived on gut instinct, then cognitively double-checked her decisions. When everything had been assembled beside her, she gritted her teeth, looking back to see the familiar red head - and froze, surprised by the girl beside him. It had been ten years since she had last seen Aubrey, ten years in which the girl had grown and matured. In the long run, Valentine wasn't terribly surprised Aubrey had followed Moreau in the adult world. Devotion like hers wasn't come by so easily, and wasn't gotten rid of so easily, either. Moreau himself was the same, if perhaps aged a little more. The fiery red hair, the maniacal grin, nothing had changed since she last saw him. Something was different in the way he carried himself, nonetheless. What she had once dismissed for nerdiness now sent shivers down her spine, grown into its full potential. Whatever his intent was, she knew the odds that it was good were very slim. Valentine was horrified to find that feelings she had thought dead for ten years reawoke oh-so-easily in the tropical air. They clamored for attention as she tugged her baggage over to where the jeep sat parked, blonde hair blown fiercely by the rotors. "Hi," she said, pushing her hair from her face, though she apparently addressed Aubrey and not Moreau. Then, in a moment of self-conciousness, she gulped and broke eye contact, looking at Moreau. It was as if she couldn't bear to look at what she found there, and her eyes flicked back to Aubrey's. Valentine refused to fidget, instead forcefully grounding herself as she had done at many company meetings, to hide her nervousness. Doctor Moreau "Welcome... to my private island." Moreau said this with a smirk of pride. "I only hope that life has been as good for you." and Moreau truely did. It was much more enjoyable to ruin a good life. "You remember Aubrey, don't you?" Moreau smiled and put his arm around her. "She has become an invaluable asset to me here." Moreau motioned to the jeep. Aubrey Lockheart Aubrey smirked knowingly at Valentine as Moreau slipped his arm around her waist. Obviously Valentine had had her eyes on Moreau in high school (though she hid it by ruthless teasing), and she made it quite clear to Aubrey that she would never succeed in gaining the romantic intentions of Nick. Boy was she wrong. "Nice to see you two again," she said, an almost wicked smile on her face she held out her hand. She tried not to grimance at Brian, and tried not to feel inferior when she sized up Valentine. Despite herself, she glance back over to Moreau protective, watching his eyes to make sure they didn't linger on Valentine's curves. Chert Sanders Chert's brow knitted into a frown when he realized no one was going to take his hand. He shoved it into his pocket (there wasn't any way to mask the refected greeting smoothly), and shrugged. "It's been decent," he said in response to Moreau. He was content with his place at Zion National Park, and was looking forward to getting back to work as soon as possible. There was no telling what his colleagues would get into while he was gone. Now that Aubrey's name had been mentioned, he thought he remembered her a little better. Although Chert had picked on Moreau unceasingly during high school, he had barely noticed the woman that hung around the genius scientist. Aubrey had rarely been a target- maybe even bullies had a little honor. Something in her manner made Chert uneasy, though. Her smile seemed almost vicious. "Nice to see you two again? That was about the last thing he expected to come out of her mouth. He grunted wordlessly and hopped into the jeep. Valentine Hawthorne Oh, that little witch. Did she just do that?! Valentine masked her surprise at Aubrey's actions efficiently, merely twitching a smile in response to the nonverbal challenge. Switching her attention to Moreau, Valentine popped open the trunk of the jeep and painstakingly shoved her luggage in. "Thank you, Moreau. Life has been very good." Valentine wasn't lying, not knowing that this answer was exactly what Moreau wanted to hear. It had been good, too. It's not often you find yourself CEO of a successful pharmaceutical company only five years after entering the business. "Of course I remember Aubrey!" A sickeningly sweet smile sent in Aubrey's direction again. Oh, if only she could forget how much she owed to Aubrey, how much she had wanted Aubrey for herself, how much...but there was no use reminiscing in the past. That was how they were playing the game, eh? 'Nice to see you again'? Two could play at it, then. Valentine got into the jeep, still clutching tightly to her handbag, and slammed the door behind her. "It's very nice to see both of you, as well. We're having ourselves a nice little high school reunion here, aren't we? I'll admit, Moreau, I was a bit surprised to get your invitation to come down here for a vacation, considering the past...events we have between us. Still, nothing like a time in the tropics to erase all debt...I mean, grudges, eh?" Valentine would have kept talking, but the tactician in her told her to shut her mouth now, before she did something she'd regret. Doctor Moreau "Of course, that was high school. We all did some stupid stuff back then." Moreau grinned as they both entered the jeep and he began driving back towards the facilities. "Thank god it's over." As they drove Moreau began to brag. "As you know I inheritted my father's company after I finished my M.D. from Harvard. Under my guidance the companies stock has gone up 13% in the last three years." Moreau hadn't actually had much to do with helping the stock go up in a business sense, but some of his research had had real world practical appliction and the medicines that he had been instrumental in developing had helped the company become more profitable. Moreau smiled as they drew closer to the lab, his arm still around Aubrey who sat beside him. Aubrey Lockheart "Yes, a nice little rerunion," Aubrey said off handenly, 'absent-mindedly' slipping her hand onto Moreau's thigh as they drove towards the lab. "Funny how things turn out in the end," she mused. "To think I'd be up here on Nick - I mean Doctor Moreau's - private island. I do think Nic- Moreau's the only one from out graduating class to own an island!" She was making her 'slip ups' rather obvious to stress her familiarity with the good Doctor - if anything Aubrey had gotten used to calling Moreau eitehr Doctor or Moreau, as she was susposed to do "on duty" that she found herself referring to him as such in even the most personal times. They got to the labs and Aubrey opened the Jeep doors for her guests. The main lab facilities were quite grand from the front. The whole front were tinted windows, no visable doors or windows or locks or handles. Aubrey and Moreau ushered them into the main lobby, the glass doors sliding seamlessly and soundlessly open as they approached. Motion activated? The main lobby was plush - large leather sofas on expensive looking rugs. There were some plants and coffee tables that played hosts to some scientic journals and magazines, and a water cooler in the corner. The elevator bank was to the right, and that appeared to be the only point of the lobby at all. There was no desk or computer workstations, no hallyways, or ajoining offices on the front floor - at least that you could access through the main entry. Chert Sanders Chert trailed behind Moreau and Aubrey with a feeling of annoyance beginning to simmer in his chest. High school might be behind them, but some things never changed- Moreau was still as big a braggart as ever. Chert made a few noncommittal sounds of acknowledgement in response the scientist's smug claims while he silently grumbled to ********. I flew across an ocean to listen to Nick vent his hot air. Chert didn't voice his complaints aloud, however. Some part of his felt he owed the man for all those years of bullying, so he tried to play the part of the polite guest. It irked him that Valentine seemed to excel at it, while he was stuck standing in the lobby of the immaculately professional facility feeling like a relic from the neolithic period. "Kinda quiet, isn't it?" he muttered, noticing the strange lack of personnel. He wondered who the magazines were for. Valentine Hawthorne With an effort, Valentine managed to keep her irritation under control. Barely ten minutes into their arrival, and Nick was already boasting about his successes. And of course, somehow he managed to be more successful and more wealthy than her. Now he was even better educated. Some things never change. Clenching her fists, she choked out, "Yes, of course. The adult world is so much more satisfying." There, that was alright. Valentine leaned back in her seat, draping her arms around the seat back. "Funny. I inherited my father's company too...though I had to work to get there." Not entirely true, but she had probably had to work more than Nick had. Sex was hard work, really! A note of irritation crept into her voice. "I graduated Brown with a master's in political science, worked with the mayor of Maryland for a couple years, then switched over to my father's company." Aubrey's little stresses of the word "Nick" also served to irritate Valentine. Obviously, the two shared a relationship that went beyond that of business, but to flaunt it in front of everyone's face was just plain rude. "Of course, he's also the only person from our class to create a living plant that bites off people's fingers. You two were so lucky I didn't sue." She gave up on being totally polite, bringing up the old grievance out of irritation. "Or had you forgotten?" She spat, waving her hand with the missing digit in front of Aubrey's face. "I have to live with that accident every day of my life. Now, whenever I point, I have to remember to flip people off!" Her voice rose to a screech, her eyes wide. Valentine stormed out of the car and into the building, totally forgetting her luggage in the wake of her anger. Turning around, she composed her face and smiled again. "I'm sorry. Of course it's quiet, Chert, it's the middle of the night. I know I for one need my sleep." That last comment was directed at Moreau, though Valentine didn't know to what purpose he would twist it. Doctor Moreau "If I remember correctly my family compensated yours well for that accident. That's why you didn't sue. I'm glad you've put the mistakes of the past behind you so well." Moreau led them both to the elevator, which rose on it's own taking them to a laboratory. As the elevetor climbed Moreau chimmed back "Nevertheless, I hope you both enjoy your stay here. There is the matter of an immunization shot you'll each need. You'll be given a place to stay with some of the other Island visitors, think of it like a hotel, only more yours. We provide duplexes to our guests, with the beach nearby." The elevator dinged open and Moreau led them into a large lab room with sealed metal cabnets. "Aubrey, would you see to their immunization shots? We wouldn't want them to get that tropical disease that is going around." Aubrey Lockheart Aubrey let a frown creep onto her face as she wiggled her stub in her face. "As the doctor said, it was compensated. But that it was either of our faults. We used gloves when we handled the anima." In the labs, Aubrey was busy scribbing some vital into into her files when Moreau handed her the injections. She gave the doctor a quizical look. "um, don't you want to, ah...go the honors?" she asked. But Moreau insisted she be the one. That didn't make much sense to Aubrey. THis was susposed to be Moreau's revenge... she thought he would be more than happy to deliver the shots himself. And she knew it wasn't any moral reason he would hesitate. He looked in the eyes of a a fifteen year old girl and gave her an igauna serum... All that aside, he gave Aubrey that look. The look that said not to question anything... a stern, fathery like expression. Shrugging it off, she took the two seringes and plastered a smile on her face for the the guests. "Its a requirement," she said apologetically to them as she rolled up Brian's sleeve. "Don't get this immuization and they won't let you back in the states for six months. Its such a headache..." Nothing seemed odd about the injection itself. The needle pinched, of course, a bit of tingle could be felt down the arm as the colored serums were released into the blood streams. However, the way both Aubrey and Moreau stared at them as they were administered...almost predatory, might be a bit disconcerting. Aubrey stared at the small little red point it made on Valentine's arm like she expected something to happen, and Moreau's expression looked eeirly like a dog waiting to be released upon his meal. Doctor Moreau "Well, now that that is taken care of." Moreau smiled jovily and picked up the clipboard. "Mr. Sanders, your in duplex 36, that's an upstairs... we are busy this time of year, spring break and all." Moreau said, as if to explain the high number. "Annnnd... Ms. Hawthorne, we've reserved 37 for you, it's next door, downstairs." Moreau smiled as he lead the two people back down the elevator in relatively uncomfortable silence, seeming rather chipper the whole way. The elevator dinged open and they were lead out where the jeep, with a different driver, was waiting to take them to their village duplexes. "I really hope you enjoy the stay." Moreau grinned as he walked away behind the fence. Valentine Hawthorne "Later," Churt grunted, casting a disturbed scowl at Moreau's back. His lips were tight with displeasure. When Moreau had mentioned the immunization, Chert's first insinct had been to refuse. No. ********. Way. Images of a strange, sad monstrosity framed by the bars of a steel cage kept flitting around his head (Valentine was not the only one who'd had an unfortunate encounter with one of Moreau's experiments, although admittedly the only thing Chert had lost was a little dignity). Perhaps the fact that Aubrey was the one weilding the syringe eased his mind, though, for he kept his mouth shut. Now he watched as both of his hosts vanished from sight, leaving him to his own devices. The relief he felt at their absence was surprising; there was something vaguely predatory in the stares they gave him and Valentine. Oh right... Valentine. He turned reluctantly to face the woman. 5 feet 'n 8 inches of gorgeous, but she was nearly as unsettling as Moreau and Aubrey. Apparently there were some unexpectedly unpleasant things lurking beneath that pretty shell of hers. Chert gestured half-heartedly towards the jeep. "After you." The offer was made less out of consideration than out of concern for his own well-being. Suddenly the idea of having her at his back was less-than-desirable. Valentine Hawthorne Valentine maintained a chastised silence throughout the process of her vaccination, but her mind was a busy whirl of thought once more. Her first thought about the vaccine was that she didn't trust anything Moreau or even Aubrey was dosing out. She knew she was up to date on all her vaccinations, she had been to the doctor merely weeks before, in preparation for this trip. She hadn't heard anything about a new tropical disease back then. Still, she didn't voice any thoughts out loud, perhaps out of shame. She had been embarrassed enough already. As it stood, Valentine knew that she had been compensated. Her parents had filled her in after the fact, when she woke up in the hospital. A nice, fat check had been sent from Moreau's parents to hers, and they had promptly placed it in her account. She had never touched the money, though, and whether it was because it was money Moreau had given her or not was anyone's guess. She had no need to. It was also highly unlike Moreau to be so vague about what was going to happen, unless he was being suspicious. Valentine kept all these thoughts to herself, though, and merely rubbed viciously at the angry red spot on her arm, after the fact. The gazes of the two doctors disconcerted Valentine, but those could be passed off as a reaction to Valentine's outburst. She obediantly followed Chert into the elevator and out the door, wondering what the hell Moreau could be up to now. As far as she knew, anything from DNA to colored water to hydrochloric acid could have been in that syringe, and the only way to find out what was going on would be to live it out. "Thank you," Valentine told her companion, and flopped half-heartedly back into the jeep. The odd look Chert gave her didn't go unnoticed, but she figured she deserved it after her little outburst. As the jeep rumbled down from the labs to the duplexes, she let her head hang backwards, hair blowing in the wind. Ah, sweet vacation. If only it could last forever.
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Posted: Mon Mar 13, 2006 11:38 am
Paradise Lost
In Which Chert Meets His First Islanders and Is Generally an a*****e Chert Sanders The sound of unfamiliar birdsong drifted through the window, eliciting a groggy, incomprehensible growl from the cocoon of sheets on the bed. An arm snaked out and grabbed the alarm clock on the nightstand. "Whuh time izzit?" Apparently the answer the clock gave wasn't pleasing, for it was tossed unceremoniously aside with another half-coherent curse. Chert didn't travel well. It boggled his mind that something as simple as sitting in place for a few hours could wreak such havoc with one's internal cycles. He was muzzy, sore, and definitely not ready to face consciousness, but even burying his head into its customary place under the pillow couldn't help him to fall back to sleep. The rest of the island was waking up, and he seemed destined to join it. "I surrender," Chert said, flopping clumsily out of the sheets. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment and blinked owlishly at the unfamiliar room, slowly letting the details of last night come back to him. After he and Valentine had hopped into the jeep, Chert had asked to be taken directly to his room. His mood had been rapidly deteriorating ever since he'd stepped foot on the helicopter, and by the end of last night it was either get the hell out of the jeep or hope he would be mercifully smothered under the weight of Val's luggage. Or hope that Val got smothered under Val's luggage. Yeah, that probably would have been more entertaining. Chert yawned hugely as he shuffled towards the bathroom. A warm, soothing shower sounded absolutely wonderful right about then. He tossed his clothing carelessly onto the floor and hopped into the stall, letting out a contented sigh as the near-scalding water washed all of his travel grime away and began to loosen up his knotted muscles. A few minutes later, and Chert even felt well enough to sing. Of course, it would probably be classified as "singing" by only the most forgiving and broad-minded people. but what Chert lacked in talent, he made up for in volume. "I'm a Barbie girl in a Barbie world life in plastic, it's fantastic You can brush her hair, undress her everywhere Imagination, life is your creation Come on Barbie, lets go party! Oh, oh, oh! A small songbird that had been perched on the window sill turned its back on the room and made for the safety of the forest. Some time later, Chert stepped out of the duplex and made his way into the outside world. His pace was relaxed; there wasn't anywhere he had to be. Which was fortunate, because he hadn't the slightest idea where he was going. Colche Mornings were Cheetah times, infact the Slender form of Colche slipped back in to the villiage with a spring in her step. It was customary for her to pad down the beach and watch the sun come up. Of course, when her belly rumbled, it was time for breakfast. Bacon egg sausage and black pudding. She wasn't exactly sure what a blak pudding was but it tasted good so she ate it. The dinner lady had taken up prepareing a breakfast for her every day and she made sure she ws there on time to eat it. She had been practacing so hard before they were locked out to learn how to use a knife and fork, she'd almost had to start from scratch again. A slight puurr escaped her as the scent of breakfast touched that ever so sensitive nose. Miingled with that scent though was a new smell,a new man smell. She knew most of the islanders by their scents now, she didn't even need to see them to know they were on their way towards her. This was a new scent, though male. She stopped in her tracks. After her talk with Antony, after being informed that not all the men on the island were good, she was becoming once again rather cautous around men. Her big, innocent, baby blue eyes watched and waited for the person to appear. As was her norm, she was wearing the bear minimum, though she was at least wearing soemthing, a T shirt with a picture of dolphins on the front addorned her, reaching to her hips though no further, her bottom half, naked as always, leaving her legs free to allow her the best movement in those limbs. Her ears flattened and she cleared her throat "who?" she whispered, trying to be brave, she was a big, independant cheetah now, was she going to be bullied by men? Her ears flattened against her head, she still feared them, even if she was less worried about them now, what if it was another bad man? Awen Zyn Awen stumbled out of her duplex. She had changed out of the soaking wet jean shorts and put on some pants, but unfortunately she couldn't get the shirt off without much work because of the IV attatched to her one arm, let alone putting the other shirt on. She turned around and frowned. She had to struggle with the stupid wheelie IV thing to get it out of her duplex. "Aha!" She grined as she finally got it free. She reached around and closed the door of her duplex, taking a deep breath of fresh air. She glanced to the side seeing the man strolling along the line of duplexes moving towards the main complex. He was too far away to really talk so she followed him a little ways. Wheeling her IV as she went along. She didn't see, hear, or smell Colche nearby as none of her senses were inhanced above water. But she did finally get close enough to the guy. "Oh... hello there." Chert Sanders Chert's eyes drifted down from the sky (a different blue from the desert, but still quite pretty), and centered on the source of the unexpected voice. "Mornin'," he said automatically. "How's it-..." His voice died in his throat as he realized who he was talking to. The human brain is a creature of habit, and there is nothing quite as uncomfortable as having the wrench of the bizarre and unexpected thrown into its gears. Chert's thoughts ground to a halt before starting up again double-time. What is this? Costume party? New teenage fashion? Practical joke? Skin disorder? A thousand speculations and questions clamored for space in his head, but all that came out of his mouth was, "W'the ******** hadn't even noticed Colche yet. Antoinette Devereux Antony, now fed and showered, had just ambled out of her duplex, hair dry and tucked unceremoniously behind her ears. She was surprised to hear voices coming from down below, and her eyes followed the noises curiously. One was easily recognized as Awen, with her blue hair, and the other, near naked and with an unmistakable cheetah tail, had to be Colche. But who was the obviously male islander with them? Interest piqued, as it usually was when a male was involved, Antony moved quickly down the stairs to catch up with them. She returned to a normal pace once she hit flat ground, walking towards the three. She arrived just in time to hear him utter a familiar word for her, but took this as a sign that he was new to the island. Obviously Awen was the first changed person that he met. "You must be new," she stated bluntly to the man, giving him an appreciative look before turning her attention to the two females, immediately noticing the IV hooked up to Awen. "********, what happened to you?" Blinking at Awen, Antony turned to force a smile at Colche while waiting for some kind of explanation, "Morning Colche, sorry I left you sleeping... You looked tired." Colche Colche finally pads around the little corner and stood before Chert she greeted Antony with a puurr and that oh so happy smile of hers. The sombre look of the cheetah was never sombre with Colche "Hulo" she smiled, letting the rest of the conversation go as she noticed Awen. What was that thing. Colche poked the Iv bag, carefully, which was a good thing really, her claws were sharp now. "wazzat?" she tilted her head again though her attention was once again wrenched as she remembered why she hadn't just come bounding around the corner in her usuall, happy, hyper style. Turning those blue eyes on Antony she slipped behind the older woman, shy wasn't her thing but fear was soemthing she had in reams "good or bad?" she asked, her blue eyed gaze fixed upon Antony's face, she trusted the squirrel womans judgement. Awen Zyn Awen first blinked at the man's reaction. Crap, he was a new islander. He must not have seen anyone else yet. Awen usually quick to tell new comers the truth was in no mood now that she had just failed to help people get away, to stop the new comers from moving in. She should have stayed in her room, she knew she should have. She opened her mouth to say something but suddenly Antony spoke from behind her. She turned and smiled slightly to the woman. Wait Colche? Awen turned just in time to see the cheetah pad around the corner to greet them. "Oh heya Colche! Good to see you." As the clawed finger poked the bag Awen held her breath. She wouldn't want that thing to burst. Aubrey said she needed it for a few days... "It's um... well I'm not sure exactly. Aubrey gave it to me...to help me feel better." Glancing back to Antony she gave a half smile. "Er... I went for a swim. Appearently salt water does me no good." Awen was not about to explain her escape attempt. It had failed, no sense the whole island knowing about it. But soon her attention went back to the man. She frowned and stepped back a little bit. "Um...stay calm it's alright." Chert Sanders Chert looked from Awen, to Colche, to Antony, and back again. From their conversation, it was obvious that they knew each other, but he was unsure exactly how they were connected. Circus troupe, his brain insisted desperately. Performers. But there was a strange air about them that undercut the certainty of his mental assertions. The tail of the cat-like woman moved with a grace that mechanics simply couldn't duplicate, as far as Chert was aware. And her legs- was there any way to fake that strange configuration of bone and muscle? "Yeah. New," he agreed shortly. He wasn't sure he understood Colche's question (it wasn't directed at him, anyway), but Awen's reassurance definitely put him on edge. When people started to tell you things like "stay calm," you sure as hell knew there was something to panic about. His feet started to take him backwards and away from the odd gathering without consulting his brain. Antoinette Devereux "Not bad," she said to Colche after looking back over to the male. He looked rather not skeezy compared to Billy. For one thing, he seemed to shower on a daily basis, which was a plus. She glanced towards Awen and nodded, "So you're fresh water?" Well that kind of made sense. Why would Moreau give the islanders the ability to leave the island? And then Chert started walking backwards. Antony to the... uh rescue? "Welcome to the Freak Show," Antony announced to the new male with an amused grin. She had tried being blunt and explaining it to both Zach and Billy and hadn't gotten anywhere, so it was time to have some fun with it. "Have you had your injection yet?" There was something strange about the way she said the second statement. She obviously wasn't joking, but was definately attempting to put a sarcastic spin to the entire thing. Colche "Okay" Colche stated, padding out from behind Antony and walking up to the moving Chert without an ounce of fear. Not bad, meant good, "I..Colche" she stated walking around him, her paws silent her tail swaying back and forth in a gentle manner. A breese moved her fur showing it was definately attached to her skin. She licks her lips and goes back to Awen "awen okies?" she tilted ehr head in that catty manner. Her vocabulary was definately developing, she was definately making more sence now. "brekkist?" she grinned, her tummy reminding her that bacon eggs and sausage and the all important black puddign were waiting for her in the cafeteria. Breakfast waited for no man..woman..uh cheetah.. Awen Zyn Awen sighed a little bit. Freak show was right, but she wasn't exactly sure if this was how they should handle the guy. She had gotten used to seeing newcomers that had seen other changed islanders before getting to Awen she hadn't been exactly careful with Chert. "Now please dno't back away. We don't bite or anything. Except maybe Antony, but even then I'm sure it's not in a bad way." She gave a sideways glance at Antony with a slight grin, she was only joking with the girl. Looking back to the man she smiled trying to seem welcoming. Hearing Colche introduce herself the manta decided to follow suit. "My name is Awen Zyn, this is Antony and like the girl said her name is Colche. I know this is very confusing for you, but how about you come with us to breakfast and we can explain calmly. Um..the cafe has great pancakes..." She glanced to Colche and gave the girl a soft smile. "Awen's okay Colche. Breakfast sounds good too." Chert Sanders Chert stiffened at Antony's sarcastic remark, all of his improbable fears from last night returning at once. Injection? The only injection he'd rad recently was the strange immunization Moreau had insisted upon... But he slammed the breaks on that unpleasant train of thought before it could get too far. "Get bent," Chert snarled. He didn't want any part of the game Antony was playing. 'I don't care what your ******** names are. Stay the hell away from me." He'd stopped backing up as soon as Antony had managed to raise his ire, although truthfully most of his anger was born from fear and frustration. Things had become so surreal so suddenly that he was unsure if he was dreaming or awake, and either way he was fairly certain he didn't want to hear what the islanders had to say. Awen's words seemed heavy with the promise of imminent disaster, at least as far as Chert's peace of mind was concerned. Antoinette Devereux She simply smirked lightly at Awen's comment, expression not denying it. Seconds later she raised an eyebrow at how Awen was explaining it to him. Some crock of s**t. He wasn't going to listen to that. And then he spoke, confirming her thoughts. "Ohh, fiesty," she grinned and rolled her eyes, but held up her arms in a sort of surrender. "I'm not going to give you some 'things will be a-okay' bullshit, because that's not me. So before you go off and through a s**t fit, let me level with you about this island." Absently, she reached out and grabbed hold of the back of Colche's shirt, nudging the cheetah girl behind herself. She also stepped to the side so that she was somewhat between Awen and this new guy. Antony wasn't about to let Awen or Colche get beaten for her comments. Once she felt everything was okay, Antony continued, "Moreau's turning everyone into animals via injections, hence me calling it a 'freak show.' No one leaves the island. We're all trapped in one big, twisted experiment." Antony sighed, all humor and amusement gone from her voice and eyes. Like she said, she was leveling with him, and was making sure to be entirely serious and honest with him. Colche Walking backwards wasn't easy but she stood behind Antony and peered around the older woman with a tilt of her pretty head and a look of pure curiosity in her eyes. A slight nibble of her bottom lip pushed away all fears though. Antony was big and tough, she wouldn't let anything happen. Her brow creased though as her belly gave a resounding grumble "no brekkist?" she pouts, which was a strange thing perhaps to see on a face that was purely cat like. "Chocolate cake make it better" she stated, peering aroundAntony in a sort of cute, shy way as she watched the man. Antony had said he was good, people just didn't seem to like it on the island. She never fully understood that, it was ehr home now, she loved it heer, she had freedom. Truth be told, she didn't mind being furry, it certainly kept her warm. Awen Zyn Awen saw Antony stepping forward and it was probably a good idea. The blue haired girl wouldn't ever be much of a match against someone like Chert, especially not when she was holding onto an IV with one hand. The other hand reached out to Colche and scratched her ear softly. "We'll get some chocolate cake hun." She leaned in a little to Antony to half whisper to her. "Hey, if anything goes bad here...it's probably better that Colche doesn't see it. And I'm in no condition... unless you think we should stay as backup..." Like thye could be any help. But Antony was also the least changed, the most normal. Maybe if they removed the other elements it would be better. She didn't want to leave Antony alone with this guy though. Chert Sanders Antony's mixture of wryness and pragmatism seemed to knock the intensity of Chert's anger down a few notches- at least, until she mentioned Moreau's plans. The man's face froze in an expression of horror and surprise- it would have been so much easier to deny the claim if he hadn't already seen the madman's earlier handiwork. But this was a whole new level of depravity. These people had been human. Chert stood in place for a few moments, flexing and unflexing his fists uselessly. He stared blanky over Atony's shoulder at the two women talking softly to each other. They had been human, and Moreau had... The stocky man's face collapsed into a dark and stormy frown, but his demeanor had lost most of its earlier heat. It was as if someone had placed a lid firmly overtop his anger- but that only meant it had time to build up against the pressure. "I've got to talk to someone," he growled, stalking past the little group of islanders. Yeah, right. "Talk." Antoinette Devereux "That might be a good idea Awen," she said quietly, keeping her attention on the male in front of them all. Antony didn't think the two could really help if he got violent, and the manta was right, Colche shouldn't see it. She noticed his fists, and her tails bristled instinctively, red eyes boring into his. She was prepared for the worst. And then he left. The tattooed woman didn't try and stop him when he stormed past them, sighing in relief. She was relieved he didn't try and take his wrath out on the three of them, Colche especially. "You all go on to eat, I already had breakfast," Antony stated to Awen, her tails returning to their usual twitching as she turned to head back towards her duplex. "Bye Awen, Colche." She waved before disappearing up the stairs of her duplex. Colche "Brekkie!" Colche stated again bounding off in that usual, hyperactive, happy way. Obviously the new man didn't think chocolate cake could solve all problems. She would have to change his mind one day. She giggled to herself and looked at Awen "I'v got rumblies..byes antony!..in my tumblies rumbly rumbly in my tumbly" she giggles, she liked the pooh bears song. Bounding in to the Cafeteria she noticed the Cafeteria lady already had her breakfast all ready for her and she wasn't long in sitting down with her 'full english' and a big tall glass of milk. She grinned. Knives and forks were difficult things, even more so now she had pads on ehr hands, but she was determined to use them! She wanted to be like everyone else, one day. Awen Zyn She stepped aside seeing the man pushing passed. He did not look happy and was heading for the labs. She figured it was best just to let him go though, Awen was in no condition to follow. She smiled at Antony and waved a little. "See you later Antony. Thanks." She looked back down at Colche and followed her to the cafeteria. Despite the setback of the new guy this day was actually starting fairly well. She smiled over at Colche as the cheetah was using the fork and knife. Awen didn't think there was anything that cheery girl couldn't clear up. She had always been so happy, even when she had been caught i nthe rain there was this innocence about her that made Awen smile and look on the bright side of things. She sat down with Colche after grabbing her own breakfast. Yeah...the day was going good.
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Posted: Mon Mar 13, 2006 6:45 pm
I kill j00!
When it Comes to One's Fate, Ignorance is Bliss Chert Sanders Somehow Chert made it to the labs, although it happened more by chance than because of any efforts on his part. Driving in the dark was not the best way to memorize the lay of the land. Of course, now that he'd made it, he realized that his path to the building was blocked by a large, sturdy fence. He laced his fingers through the links and rattled it violently. "Nicolaus!" he shouted, using the name he'd been familiar with in high school instead of the more formal 'Dr. Moreau.' "We've got some pretty ******** heavy things to discuss! Now!" It had occured to him earlier that the speaker in his room might be a more efficient means of communication, but Chert had rejected it in favor of some face-to-face contact (and if he weren't so furious, he might have even laughed at the pun). It didn't occur to Chert that Moreau might not even answer him; Chert's mind was firmly set on the thought of confronting that twisted b*****d, because contemplating the position he was suddenly stuck in was a little too much at the moment. Aubrey Lockheart Aubrey was in her office pouring over some lab work when her cel phone buzzed. She pullled it out and, of habit, tucked it in the crook of her neck. This caused her to shriek in pain - her neck was horribly bruised and very sore. The phone clattered to the desk and she cursed herself. Pickup the phone and more deliberately holding it to her ear, she growled "Hello?" "Dr. Lockheart, we have a problem on Monitor 5b." said one of the lab techs, most likely the one on camera duty. Aubrey sighed and grabbed the remote, signaling the screen in her room to display 5b. There was Mr. Sanders, acting a fool at the front gates. He probably finally met up with some of the other islanders. "I'll take care of it," she sighed into the phone and snapped it closed. She got up and put on her labcoat, then slug a silk scarf around her neck to hide the bruise. A few moments later, she appeared through the front doors of the facility. "Good day to you, Mr. Sanders," she called to him sounding overly cheery. "Can I help you?" She made it to the gate, staring face to face with Chert, but not opening the gate. Chert Sanders Chert glared at the woman on the other side of the gate, his lips pressed together in a thin, angry line. "It is most definitely not a 'good day,'" he snapped. "There is nothing 'good' about this miserable ******** day. In fact, I'd go so far as to say this day sitting on the goddamned rock bottom of my list of 'good days,' so would you please cut the polite s**t and tell me why exactly I'm here." Aubrey Lockheart "Oh, that's not a good attitude to have, Mr. Sanders," Aubrey said, clucking her teeth. She placed a hand on her hip and raised her eyebrows at him. "If you think today is rock bottom, you might find that the bottom might be falling out on you sometime soon." She flipped her hair over her shoulder and adjusted her scarf to make sure her injury wasn't showing. "I hope you know that if you ask me, you're getting pretty easy. Especially after how you treated Nick in high school. YOu remember, don't you... what you did? Did you know he still carried scars around from then?" She seemed pretty steamed as she glared at him, waiting for an answer to her chastizing. Chert Sanders "That was over a decade ago!" Chert protested. "Jesus, I hadn't even thought of Moreau until he sent me the invitiation." But Moreau had obviously been thinking of him, and the simple passing of time apparently failed to solve anything. Chert raked his hands through his hair in frustration and began to pace. He strove to instill a semblance of rationality into his voice, but all he really wanted to do was break something. "Of course I remember," he said. He hadn't exactly sat down and thought about it, but somewhere in the back of his mind he'd long ago admitted that he'd been in the wrong during high school. "What does he want? An apology? Because this is a pretty strange way to go about it." Chert Sanders "Too late for apologies, really," Aubrey said, opening a control box near the gaze and flipping a switch. "How odd, this gate is suposed to be electified... I'll have to get someone on that." Shrugging, she flipped the box closed and went back to looking at Sanders in the eyes. "But if you want to apologize to make youself feel better, I'm sure Moreau would appreciate it." The words Aubrey spoke to her the othre night resounded in her head. Moreau had actually implied they mihgt have had a whole other life if Moreau didn't have to live in fear of bullies like CHert. This made her angry... very angry. Especially with Jamal's attempt at her life throbbing under her scarf. "And you know... if figures someone like you wouldn't have even thought abour Moreau. I mean, what kind of justice is that? You know.. people like him, people like me... you guys think you can just say anything to us... make us feel like s**t. You people... " Aubrey took a breath, trying not to let her voice go so high. It was obious Aubrey was letting some personal deflection creep into this conversation. "You people give us wounds that will never heal. It takes years to look into a mirror on not hear poeple laughing in your ear. Images of people pointing, laughing. It effects you... through college...after. Why is it fair that WE have to live through that... but you. You guys just leave us behind...go into your little frat-houses and never give us a second thought. We're done with. You tear into us and when you're done with us you get to move on and never have to face what you did." Aubrey voice dipped low, huanting. "You never have to answer for it." Obviously, Aurbey was implying he would be answering for it now. Chert Sanders "Whatever helps you justify your little operation here," Chert sneered derisively. Although it was readily apparent, Aubrey's outburst had affected him. He'd stopped pacing and had folded his arms over his chest almost protectively, but was careful to maintain the outer appearance infuriation. There was no way in hell he'd show one glimmer of weakness in front of one of Moreau's cohorts. Ironically, though, most of the worries and hurts that Aubrey described were almost exactly the things that had goaded the adolescent Chert into ragging on Moreau. It was just that instead of internalizing his insecurities and dealing with them that way, he'd displaced them onto the unforunate fledgling scientist (not that Chert had enough insight into his inner workings to come to that conclusion). Chert leaned in close to the fence and met Aubrey's gaze. He didn't want to ask the question, but it seemed to drag itself forcefully from his throat. His voice was low and raw. "What did you bastards do to me?" Aubrey Lockheart She leaned in to meet his gaze. "Welcome to the Island of Dr. Moreau," she almost purred. "We're doing some wonderul work genetic work here. Its amazing how close we've come to conquering the human genome. We can manipulate it...change it. We can virtually turn any living human cell into a stem cel. And you'd be facinated to see what happens when you inject branched animal DNA into a subject whose been treated with some of the gene theropy serums we've developed here." She straighted up and nonchalanty messed with her nails. "Hope you like rats. You seemed to be rather fond of them in high school, you know. Wanting to set them free and all," she said ominously. Chert Sanders Chert's entire frame seemed to sag under the weight of the Aubrey's insinuation. He'd been trying to escape the obvious all day, but there was no way around it; his days living as a human being were rapidly drawing to a close. It was like some horrible twist on the process of reincarnation, except you were supposed die before you turned into something else, not stand there and gawk as you grew a ******** tail, or got your joints rearranged, or turned rubbery and gray. "Hope you like rats." With suddenly clarity, Chert remember the experiment he'd found in the corner cage the night he'd crept in to set the rest of the rats free. He hadn't done it out of any noble concern for the rights or well-being of test animals; it had just been yet another way to pester Moreau. But that thing he'd found hidden away beneath the cover... The vison of the deformed creature had sat in his brain like a hunk of rotting flesh until he'd managed to bury it deep enough to mask its stench. Now, though... Chert's arm shot out like a cobra-strike in an attempt to grab Aubrey's collar. He wasn't sure of what he intended to do- make her stop it, perhaps reverse the process- but he could barely think admist the fog of his desperation. Chert Sanders Chert's entire frame seemed to sag under the weight of the Aubrey's insinuation. He'd been trying to escape the obvious all day, but there was no way around it; his days living as a human being were rapidly drawing to a close. It was like some horrible twist on the process of reincarnation, except you were supposed die before you turned into something else, not stand there and gawk as you grew a ******** tail, or got your joints rearranged, or turned rubbery and gray. "Hope you like rats." With suddenly clarity, Chert remember the experiment he'd found in the corner cage the night he'd crept in to set the rest of the rats free. He hadn't done it out of any noble concern for the rights or well-being of test animals; it had just been yet another way to pester Moreau. But that thing he'd found hidden away beneath the cover... The vison of the deformed creature had sat in his brain like a hunk of rotting flesh until he'd managed to bury it deep enough to mask its stench. Now, though... Chert's arm shot out like a cobra-strike in an attempt to grab Aubrey's collar. He wasn't sure of what he intended to do- make her stop it, perhaps reverse the process- but he could barely think admist the fog of his desperation. Aubrey Lockheart Aubrey squealed in surprise as he reached out to grab her "Brian Sanders SLEEP!" she cried. That would be last thing he would hear. A suddent jolt of eletricity would shoot through his neck and he would crumple to the ground, unconscious. Chert Sanders Chert hit the ground hard. He was vaguely aware of a thud that echoed painfully throughout each and every once of his nerves as the surge of electricity caused his muscles to contract all at once. And then he wasn't aware of anything at all.
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Posted: Mon Mar 13, 2006 7:31 pm
Chert wakes up 'safe and sound' back in his duplex bed. However, before he even opens his eyes, his senses betray that something isn't quite right. The smell of the room reminds him vaguely of a sickbay... or animal clinic.... they say scent is a memory-trigger more than any other sense, even for people - and this is no exception. You're reminded, quite clearly, of that fateful night when you uncovered Moreau's .... creation.
Pithy, scritching sounds and plaintive cries reach your ears soon after and when you open you eyes you find three ... 'additions' to your room. First, staring back at you with wide beady eyes in a cage on your bedside table is a .... pitiful creature - neither rat nor bird, but some horrible amalgamation of the two... gone horribly wrong. Some of the animal's hairs are thickened, shaft-like protrusions. The skin at its base is swollen and red and painful just to look at. Its teeth are fused and yelowed, protruting from the animal's mouth in a mockery of a bird-beak. One of its eyes is swollen shut, a strange puss-like liquid dripping from it. Its paws are clawless, one of its forepaws have the 'fingers' fused together and the joint is bent over. THe creature seems unable to put weight on this limb, having to painfully support itself on the other, misshapen limb - from which seems to be stemming what looks like the beginings of a featherless bird wing (that looks similar to a buffalo wing cooked in a vibrant red seasoning). The tail is the worst. It sems to be shorter, thicker than a normal rat's tail, but swollen asymmetrically, with bulbous boils - from one of which grows a single, perfect grey feather. It is squaking in misery, clacking it's misshapen beak.
Two other cages are in your room, however. One of which is betwen your bed and the doorway to the bathroom - placed there to be a boundary between you and a recepticle for possibly forthcoming vomit. In this cage .... you're not sure if it used to be a cat or a lizard - so meshed is the pitiful creature inside. Patches of scales appear in the fur like mange, the skin dry and loose around it. It scratches itself continuously, sometimes a patch of skin with fur still attached shedding off as it does so, leaving behind only raw flesh below, no smooth patch of scaling. The scales it does have are a tarnished green in color - looking more like pustules than actual scales. Worst of all is its face - if Brian had ever seen a photograph of an actual two-headed calf - with the two heads merged together in teh center, sharing a single eye... that would be the image that comes to mind. Two faces joined by an eye that is large and puffy and milked over come from this creature's neck - one thoroughly reptilian, a misshapen tongue hanging limply from its mouth... one feline, mewling plaintively.
Finally, a large cage is placed right by the door, and contained within is the saddest creature of the bunch.... perhaps because its parent species was the most human. What is easily identified as having once been a chimp lies at the base of the metal cage listlessly - far past the point of pain to even care anymore about the goings-on of the world around it. Its back legs have atrophied, hardly recognisable anymore as feet or legs except that the basic bone structure remains, loose skin clinging to the skeletal limbs. Protruding from the base of the spine is an immense, tumor-like mass of pink skin, with a few scattered bluish scales that appear indented or at odd angles in the mass. His body looks weak, the bones hardly looking like they can support the structure of the beast. A strange tumor-protrusion in the center of his back also with a few rough looking scales. Its eyes are huge and black... but even the inky depths do not disguise the emotion and pain written in them. His gums are swollen and red and bleeding, loose teeth line the floor of the cage - some fully primate, some sharp, and a few even serrated. His gums are also full of these teeth - there seems to be no order to them - sticking out at odd angles, sometimes it looks like three of them are trying to come in from the same open wound.
Each animal is worse than the previous... and none of them are as 'tame' as the failed rat in the cage that you discovered so many years ago.
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Island of Moreau Vice Captain
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Posted: Tue Mar 14, 2006 10:52 am
Reserved for Total Spazz Attack
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Posted: Tue Mar 14, 2006 10:53 am
Night Out On the Town
Trees Don't Grow in Cafeterias Antoinette Devereux Antony had waited a while after Billy had come a callin' in a full blown rage before actually daring to leave her duplex. She didn't have a knife or any sort of weapon to protect herself, so she wanted to be extra careful. That and she was hungry, so out she went. The tattooed woman took the longest way possible to the cafeteria, going mostly behind the duplexes, Antony listened carefully for the accented a*****e the entire way. Luckily, she didn't see, hear, or smell any signs of the scum bag, arriving at the cafeteria safe and unseen. Unfortunately, Antony also didn't get a chance to see Jamal in his cage when she went around the long way. Once inside the cafe, she grabbed a plate and began to pile her plate with chicken, corn, and a bowl of mixed nuts from the salad bar. After she set the plate down, she went to get silverware and some lemonade before returning to the table. Tails swaying in content, she sat down and began to eat. Food never tasted so good. Chert Sanders Chert had also taken a round-about way to the cafeteria, although the building hadn't been his original destination. In fact, he looked a little bit surprised to find himself standing in the doorway of the building, looking in. The unexpected encounter with the changed islanders had been a little like someone taking a steel-knuckled fist to the head, but he probably would have gotten over the initial fit of panic and anger. Being internally tazered wasn't exactly pleasant either, although being unconcious was a welcome change compared to what else was going on. However, he was finding it a little more difficult to cope with the thoughtful welcoming gifts that had been left in his room. Most people went with the traditional fruit basket. Chert let out a small giggle at the thought just before the rich smells of the cafeteria hit him. His stomach immediately tried to rebel again, and he slumped against the doorframe, neck muscles tightening convulsively. The tone of his skin had turned a sickly green underneath his tan. Antoinette Devereux Antony looked up when the door opened, the giggle causing a confused expression to wash over her features. Until, that is, she got a good look at the color he was turning. "s**t," she grunted as she quickly stood up, intercepting a trash can on the way and pushing it in front of him. Just in case. "I didn't think I was so revolting," the tattooed woman joked uneasily as she stood there, unsure of what to do. She wasn't exactly the motherly type. That and there was no hair to hold back. She didn't know whether to help him over to a chair and drag the trash can along with, or to just not intervene and let him handle it. Men were often weird about getting help from women. Chert Sanders Oh, God. Of all the people that could be in there, it had to be one of the women from earlier. Chert waved his hand in dismissal as he tried to get to his feet properly and make a hasty exit. "Just feelin' a little under the wheath- hurgh." The sudden movement turned out to be his undoing. It was lucky that Antony had had the foresight to bring the trashcan along, although there wasn't much for the man's stomach to expel since most of its previous contents were already sitting on the floor of his duplex. After a moment he stood up shakily. The expression of nausea was rapidly fading, replaced by one of acute embarassment. Well, whatever impression he'd managed to make, it was probably memorable. "Fancy meeting you here," he muttered, and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Antoinette Devereux She frowned when he waved her off, shrugging and heading back to her table, but not a step later did the sickening sound of someone emptying their stomach reach her ears. Turning around, she raised her eyebrow. Thank the gods she brought that trashcan over. Inwardly, Antony didn't know if it was her that caused the nausea or something else, but for now she would assume it was the latter. Give him the benefit of the doubt. "Yeah, fancy... This is the only place to eat here," she said with a shrug, waving her hand towards the food. "You can join me if you're not too disgusted by me... The trashcan's portable you know." A faint, crooked smile graced her lips before she turned to head back to her food before it got cold. Chert Sanders Chert glanced with distaste at the trashcan and shook his head; his initial nausea was fading, and he didn't fancy dragging the vomit-filled container around. Her invitation surprised him, though; Chert didn't think many people would willingly socialize with the crazed maniac that had been flipping his lid just a few hours before. He wasn't about to question the decision. His earlier urge to flee might have been a little bit hasty- having another living being in the room seemed to help make his panic a little more distant. Antony even seemed fairly normal compared to the only two other islanders he'd seen. Hell, compared to his room's new residents she was ********' Aphrodite. Chert went over and piled a small portion of the strongest tasting foods he could find onto his tray before wandering back to sit across from Antony. It tasted like a cat had gone and died in mouth. Ugh. He didn't bother to try and verbally dispel Antony's false impression. For Chert, the act of simply sitting down spoke clearly enough. Antoinette Devereux Antony had been in his shoes before, well not exactly, but she also had a pretty volatile temper and remembered how she had originally reacted to this whole island s**t. She could emphasize with him at least. Taking the fact that he was eating, and with her, as a sign that he was both feeling better and wasn't disgusted by her. Well that was good enough. "I'm Antony," she introduced, raising her changed eyes to glance over at him, expecting him to introduce himself as well. It was common courtesy at least. A few bites of chicken later, and she was starting on her bowl of nuts, which were quite satisfying for dessert. "Not to sound like a ******** tour guide, but do you have any questions?" She asked, popping an almond in her mouth while casually leaning back in her chair. Chert Sanders Chert picked at his food gingerly at first, and was surprised to find that even though the rest of him was so sure about it, his stomach warmly welcomed the nourishment. Make up your mind, he silently growled. Stupid organs. But he said aloud, "Most people call me Chert." Antony's question startled him into a short, harsh laugh. It didn't contain much humor, but hey- it was a start. "Do you have a few hours?" he snorted, still hunched over his food. The way he was glaring at his orange, it was surprising the fruit didn't ignite right then and there. "...Did everyone here do something to piss Moreau off? Antoinette Devereux "I could clear my schedule," she mused, eyes giving away the fact that she was joking, chuckling softly as he glared at the orange. His question didn't really surprise her, and she shook her head, "I don't know about everyone... But some people washed up here, shipwrecks, while others were brought here under false prentences. They told me I had won a free two week vacation." It was obvious that she had been here longer than two weeks. Chert Sanders "Bastards," Chert said, mostly because he couldn't think of anything else that was appropriate. At least he'd known a little about what he was dealing with, and chose to come at his own discretion. What would it have been like if he'd arrived expected long days lying on the beach and found out later that, no, sorry- you were actually going to be living out your days as a... whatever it was Antony was turning into. He couldn't recall ever hearing of a mammal with three tails. At least it's not a rat...Chert pushed away the plate of half-eaten food and leaned back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest. There were a few other easy questions he could ask (How many people are there? How long have you been here? Has anyone tried to escape?), but he figured maybe it was best to get the worst of it over with. Like ripping of a band-aid real quick, right? "How..." Chert trailed off, waving a hand in the air vaguely. "How does it happen? Is there any way to stop it?" Antoinette Devereux Antony nodded in agreement to his comment, mentally adding onto the statement as well. Though, Dr. Duvert was quite nice, at least he was to her when she asked for help. He wasn't very nice to Joli, which was just another reason for Antony to like him. She raised an eyebrow when he trailed off, and frowned slightly when he finally asked the questions he had started. "Eh," she began, not sure how to explain it. "You get injections, and it's all genetic, from what I've been told... And if there is a way, they aren't telling us... If you go too long without an injection, you get really sick... Like the flu, but it's worse, I promise... Saw that happen to someone once..." Trailing off, the squirrel woman tried to think of some things to just get over with, "There are nightmares... Usually right before you change I guess, and from a mixture of those and..." She motioned to her eyes and then her tails, "I figure I'm turning into an albino squirrel... With uh, too many tails." A cringe fell on her features when she remembered the pain in her a**, literally, when those had come in. "Those ******** hurt," she admitted, sighing and popping a handful of nuts in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "There are loads of squirrels in D. C., so maybe that's why? Don't much like them... Moreau likes to be ironic though..." Shrugging, Antony watched him carefully for a reaction, just now noticing that beyond the angry exterior he was quite attractive. That was always a plus in her book. Chert Sanders Hm... so it sounded as if it was gradual. That made sense- the changes in the two other people he'd seen seemed more extreme than those in Antony. He wasn't sure if the news was a good or not. Wouldn't it be better to get it over with all once than wait for weeks up weeks to discover what you were ultimately going to be?... Ha! Screw that, it'd be better not to have to deal with this at all. But he didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Chert grimaced along with Antony when she mentioned the tails. He'd fallen onto the asphalt in exactly the wrong way once and bruised his tailbone, ensuring that every movement which involved walking or sitting was pure agony. Having one's tailbone split into three seperate parts- well, it just didn't bear thinking about it. His respect for her quietly increased a few notches. Not everyone would be able to comment on something like that so off-handedly. Antony mentioned Moreau, and Chert gave her a bitter grin. "Yeah, he certainly does. Pretty ******** fond of order rodentia, too." Antoinette Devereux The bitter grin combined with his next comment caused her to raise an eyebrow, as far as she knew, she was the only rodent on the island so far. Thinking back a bit, she remembered him asking if everone on the island had pissed off Moreau in some way. "You knew Moreau before you came to the island?" Antony asked, genuinely curious now. It would make sense why he had immediately run off to the labs when he found out the truth about the island. She frowned, munching on another handful of nuts thoughtfully before responding, "I'm the only one turning into a rodent I think... Unless..." Trailing off, Antony looked at him silently for an answer, "You already know..." It was the only explanation. Chert Sanders Chert shrugged his shoulders slightly. "In high school. There wasn't any love lost between us... I s'ppose I was mostly responsible for that." His lip curled into a lop-sided snarl. "But it was Aubrey that was kind enough to inform me of my fate." The last word was spat out like a curse. After the "englightening" conversion with Aubrey, he'd woken up sleeping next to several escaped nightmares- it was no wonder the two were connected in his head. + Billy William Woodrow Suddenly, there was the sound of storming footsteps befor Billy's voice could be heard booming across the cafeteria, "THERE Y'ARE Y'FECKIN' HAIRY b***h!" Antoinette Devereux Antony was about to respond, when an accented angry voice caused her to jump somewhat in surprise. "Well if it isn't the resident cokehead?" She sneered, though she looked on edge. Maybe it was the squirrel, or maybe she was really scared of Billy. One could only guess. Chert Sanders Chert looked up, slightly startled at the unexpected shout. The man appeared to be human, if you were using the term loosely. "Who the hell are you?" William Woodrow Billy ignored CHert, stalking towards Antony with an enraged expression, his eyes narrowed, his face pale and sweaty and his teeth bared. All day he had been hunting for his stolen belongings, and all day he had come up with naught. "I *know* y'know where it is! GIVE IT TO ME!" He snarled, kicking a chair noisily away from the table as he reached to grab her shirt. Antoinette Devereux Antony darted out of reach in the nick of time, but didn't have time to think how she did it. Her tails bristled and her own eyes narrowed, "Know where what is?!" Secretly, she took pleasure in his condition. Chert Sanders Billy's sudden and violent movement caused Chert to surge to his feet. He didn't do anything else but stand, although judging from the deepening frown on his face, that could change. William Woodrow "I don' know how y'did it, bu' I know y'did!!" Billy spat, lunging towards her again, his face still contorted with anger and illness. "IT AINT FUNNY! An' y'KNOW DAMN WELL WHA' I'M TALKIN' ABOU'!!" Antoinette Devereux "I haven't taken anything from your tweaked a**!" She retorted while scampering out of reach again, instinctively searching around for a tree to flee up. The squirrel in her head was absolutely freaking out, but she... She was not scared of the scum bag. Chert Sanders Did what? Chert wondered. He shifted uneasily, unsure of what to do. The last time he'd lashed out at someone, nothing good had happened. William Woodrow Once again, the enraged druggy lunged for her, this time managing to grab a hold of her arm befor she could completely slip away, swinging her around to slam her against the table, one hand squeezing about her throat as the other dug into his pants to produce his usually well conceiled switchblade. "Ye'll. Tell. Me. Where. It. Is. Or I'll cut yer' feckin' tattooed t'roat," He hissed, eyes wild and his face reddened. His hands were visibly shaking, although his grip was like iron on her neck, no doubt leaving bruses. Antoinette Devereux Antony moved to dodge, but thanks to the squirrel and the goddamn trees, he caught her arm. A pained noise that sounded something like a grunt escaped from her lips when she was slammed into the table, and then she couldn't breathe. Her eyes went wide and she weezed painfully, clawed hand instinctively wrapping around his wrist in attempts to pull herself free. When she felt the blade at her neck, the tattooed woman froze, afraid to even swallow due to how much he was shaking. "I don't... have... it..." she managed to gasp out quietly, trying still to pull back from the knife. The squirrel was scared, but Antony was furious, and her eyes showed both emotions raging inside her. Chert Sanders The sight of the knife at Antony's neck was enough to goad Chert into action. He lunged at the druggy, attempting to hook his arms beneath the other's armpits and then lace his hands together behind Billy's head. He wasn't exactly sure how well a full nelson would work on an armed man, but hopefully the pain of having someone viciously wrench Billy's head down towards his chest would distract the druggie long enough for Antony to get away. "This island is crawling with ******** lunatics!" Chert howled, wondering if the next thing he felt would be the cold kiss of a knife. William Woodrow Billy gave an unintelligable howl, slashing the blade blindly about, thankfully hitting nothing but air as he was wrenched back. "LEMME GO!" He roared, "GERROFF YE FECKIN' b*****d THIS AINT GOT NOTHIN' T'DO WIT' YE!!" Antoinette Devereux Air wooshed into her lungs as she gulped it in greedily, coughing as her hand went to cradle her neck. Snarling she managed to keep a hold on the wrist with the knife, bending it back and digging her claws into his flesh as she moved into him again, eyes blazing. Moments later, Antony's knee was once again plowing into Billy's crotch. Though this time, she was much much more pissed off. "I don't have your ******** stash," she sneered before letting go and backing up away from the two men, giving Chert a thankful look as she rubbed her neck with a wince. Chert Sanders Chert could feel the impact of Antony's knee from his position, and he had to fight to keep his eyes from watering in sympathy. Jesus. If he ever planned on having children, maybe he ought to make sure and stay on her good side. Still, it was good she'd stepped in- getting ahold of someone was the easy part. Left to his own devices, Chert didn't know what he would have done after that. Knife fights weren't a normal part of his everday activities. He figured it was probably alright to let go of Billy, so he released his hold on the man and stepped away. Chert returned Antony's look with a small, lop-sided grin that seemed to say, Sure, but what the hell just happened? William Woodrow Billy gave a high, pained noise, crumpling into a ball as tears slid down his face from the pain. DAMMIT! That... stupid... He couldn't think straight, his head spinning from the pain. It wasn't fair! It wasn't FAIR! He had agreed to come here thinking it would be a vacation. A perminant vacation. An escape. but so far he had been kicked and mangled and confused and his one source of relief taken from him. He KNEW she had been behind it. She had to have been! Who else would have done it? He couldn't think straight enough through the throbbing pain in his sensitive area, resigning himself to just concentrate on breathing again. Antoinette Devereux Staying on Antony's good side was generally a good idea. She had a long memory and held grudges. Either way, she continued to try and get control of her breathing again, chest heaving while an ugly looking bruise formed on her neck in the shape of a hand. Her tails still looked like pipe cleaners from the entire ordeal, the squirrel still utterly freaking out. Tree. Tree! TREE! She did have half a mind to kick the knife away from him after catching Chert's gaze. The lopsided grin calmed her nerves down some, and Antony quickly caught his wrist loosely before heading out of the cafeteria. "We need to go," she rasped painfully. The tattooed woman needed to get away from Billy before she killed him. Chert Sanders Chert followed her without complaint, mentally slapping his forehead as he went. Right, Chert, leave the crazy man's knife within reach. Brilliant. He cast one more paranoid scowl over his shoulder at Billy as they left, wanting to make sure he'd memorized the drug addict's face. It would probably be best to steer clear of him in the future. Somehow Chert was sure he'd failed to make a new friend. "Are you alright?" he asked Antony as they left the building. The strangely shaped marks on her neck looked painfully livid, and the fur on her tails was bristled out in all directions. It was an odd feeling, gaining insight into someone's emotional state through their tails. William Woodrow It was a while befor Billy managed to pull himself back up to his feet, slumping into a chair as he burried his face in his hands. Stupid. Stupid stupid. He just wanted his... it was only fair that he... he hadn't really... it wasn't his fault! None of this was his fault! He hissed through his teeth, trembling again with his growing illness. He'd find it. Just stay calm. She didn't have it. He could have sworn she'd have it, but she didn't have it. Right. So. Who DID have it? How did they get into his duplex? Pick the lock? He hadn't noticed any markings on the knob when he had gone in. Someone must have an extra key. Had the doctor himself taken it away? No, he was pretty sure the Doctor knew what Billy had carried with him onto the island. Then WHO?? Who else seemed to hate him on this God forsaken island? His wrists were stinging where Antony's claws had upset his bandages. He stared down at his older wounds, exposed by the scuffle. And it hit him. Joli. That little pock-marked b***h. Antoinette Devereux "Well," she started, voice still rather rough, but clearly improving, "A crazed drug addict just tried to kill me... So, I could be better..." Antony tried not to put too much bite in her remarks since Chert had just saved her a**, despite how pissed off she was still. Carefully, the squirrel woman moved her hand up to touch her burning neck, hissing at the pain the action caused. "********," she grunted, letting that hand drop while the other one released his wrist. "How bad is it?" Part of her didn't want to know. After a few deep breaths, Antony glanced to Chert and nodded, "Thanks... Thanks a ******** actually." A hand shakily ran through her hair, pushing the longer chunks out of her face. She really needed a hair cut. Pushing that random thought aside, along with the squirrel screechings in her head, the tattooed woman sighed floods of bad memories threatening to break through. She may have calmed down, but s**t could go from okay to bad really quickly with a trip down memory lane. Chert Sanders Chert leaned in slightly, wondering if Billy had managed to break the skin with his fingernails. "As long as he's not rabid, I think you'll be fine. Might want to get creative with your scarves or turtle necks for the next few days, though," he suggested, even though he couldn't quite picture her in either. The adrenaline in his blood still had his nerves singing like a taut wire. He stuffed his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking and made a low, uncomfortable hmm in response to her thanks. "I'm just glad it's over." It would be nice to lay down, close his eyes, and forget this day ever happened for awhile. "He's not gonna try to follow you or anything, is he?" Antoinette Devereux Antony smiled weakly, glancing back behind her with a wince, "I don't wear either." He was right, she wasn't a scarf or turtleneck kind of girl. But his other comment worried her, as much as she hated to admit it, and her tails, which had finally relaxed, fluffed up a bit. "If he does, I'd rather be safe in my locked duplex, and since he won't exactly be running..." Trailing off, she offered a crooked grin before glancing in the direction of her duplex. She personally knew how impossible it was to break into the duplexes from that little survivor deal. She didn't know what awaited him in his duplex, but she still motioned for him to come with. Some company would be nice right now, especially behind a locked door and safe in her duplex. Where the alcohol and smokes were hiding, as well as her nice, fluffy bed. The truth was, Antony, as strong as the squirrel woman was, she remained utterly freaked out from the near death experience. Chert Sanders Antony's silent offer lifted some of the worries that had been bearing down on Chert's mind. He could tell already that the post-adrenaline rush was going to be a total b***h, and the thought of a soft, warm bed to sleep in was absolutely heavenly. He hadn't realized it 'til just then, but Chert had no intention what-so-ever of going back to his own duplex. He'd curl up under a rock before he went back there. His thoughts were already beginning a long, slow, lethargic spiral downwards. It didn't even cross his mind to question her motives- the offer was welcome, whatever spirit it was made in. At that point, though, a stuffed beagle probably would have made a better guard dog than Chert. He trailed behind her without speaking, stumbling on a spot of uneven ground from time-to-time. Antoinette Devereux It was a short enough walk, and Antony held the door open for him, making sure to quickly shut and lock it once he was out of the way. She ambled towards the bedroom, her thoughts mimicking his own about sleep as she tugged off her tanke top carefully and tossed it aside. Modesty was never one of Antony's prized traits. Shoes and pants came off next before she crawled into bed, patting the spot next to her, "I don't bite." For once, Antony didn't have any alterior, sexual motives in mind, and her expression reflected this. She simply wanted company. As always, the squirrel woman would have to wait until Chert joined her to get comfortable. Chert Sanders The bold disregard for modesty might have awakened certain, less pure thoughts in Chert under different circumstances, but for now he was nearly asleep on his feet. A corner of his mouth twitched upwards weakly at her invitation, and he sat down on the edge of the bed and unlaced his boots. After being unbuttoned, his shirt was thrown carelessly in general direction of his shoes. A heavy sigh escape Chert's throat as he settled back into bed. He muttered something incomprehensible as he looked up at Antony, but the tone had a grateful ring to it. She wouldn't be able to ask for clarification until the morning, though; his breathing had become heavy and rhythmic almost as soon as his head had hit the pillow. Antoinette Devereux Antony found quickly enough that laying on her back would be the only comfortable way to sleep that night, despite the fact that when a male was sleeping with her, she usually used them as a pillow. It was a natural reaction for the tattooed woman. Unfortunately, the painful bruising on her neck demanded not to be touched. So she was on her back, staring at the ceiling. For hours. While she was physically and emotionally drained, her mind continued to race on, flinging around memories of previous near death experiences. They all involved him, and silent tears fell from the corners of her eyes every so often. There were simply too many parallels. It took her a while, but the squirrel woman soon fell into a restless sleep. Eventually, deep sleep would come, but it would take a while.
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Posted: Thu Mar 16, 2006 12:07 pm
The Morning After
b***h, I Made You Breakfast! Chert Sanders Not too long after Antony had left for breakfast, some small noise at the door startled Chert into wakefulness. It was gone almost as soon as it had come, so he sleep addled senses didn't convey much more than the sudden, urgent need to be aware. His muscles decided to tense all at once, hauling him into a sitting position at the same time his eyes flew open- get up, GET UP! Danger, Will Robinson!... Ah, sorry. False alarm. Chert slumped forward and pressed his palms into his eyes. "Goddamnit," he groaned. After a moment, a feeling of absence to his side attracted his attention; there was a piece of paper lying on the bed, but no Antony. Curiously, he picked up the note. She hadn't been able to sleep, huh? Well, that was no surprise. Getting threatened by knife-wielding madmen tended to have that effect on most people. Chert founded himself wishing he'd wrenched that b*****d's neck just a little bit harder. He was a little bit surprised that he'd managed to sleep through the night, though. It certainly hadn't been a very restful slumber, but it had been fairly constant. Maybe it was an after-effect of whatever the hell Aubrey had done to him (Brian Sanders, SLEEP!). Maybe his body had simply decided it was done with island for the night. Either way, he was feeling a little more human. Ha ha. Chert snorted and began to get dressed. His chin had grown a fine layer of stubble since yesterday and he was in dire need of some dental hygiene, but the bag with all of his things in it was still back... there. Maybe he should just deal with breakfast first. The rest of that could wait. God, could it wait. Chert sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor vacantly. Antoinette Deverux The woman in question arrived around five or ten minutes after she had left the cafeteria with the food and drinks. When she opened the door, she nearly tripped over the bag of goodies, but thanks the the squirrel, Antony managed to scamper about until she had her balance again. Setting the take out boxes on the kitchen counter, Antony immediately picked up the bag and peered into it. The two freezerbags cheered her up immensely, and after taking out the toiletries and catalogs, the paper bag was shoved into a cabinet. Balancing the load in her arms and leaving the food on the counter, Antony ambled back into the bedroom expecting to see Chert still sleeping, or possibly showering. "Oh! You're up," she said, slightly surprised but offering him a smile nonetheless. She dumped the pile of toiletries on the bed next to him, planning on coming back to sort them later. The magazines were stacked and then set on her dresser, the Victoria's Secret catalog ending up on top. "I brought you back breakfast from the cafeteria to thank you if you want to eat, if not I'll just throw it in the fridge." The tattooed woman shrugged, looking slightly uncomfortable. This wasn't something she usually did for someone she just met, but he had saved her life. Smiling in attempts to cover up what she thought was a negative trait, Antony ruffled his hair before heading towards the kitchen, "I don't usually do things like that, so I'd appreciate it if it stays between us." After all, they could get the wrong sort of idea from it if they found out. Like that the two of them were dating... And that would be horrible. Chert Sanders "Haven't been for long," Chert answered. The sudden appearance of the women's toiletires in his proximity caused him some discomfort, although the only sign he gave was a sudden tendency not to look down in that direction. The packaging on that stuff tended to be so pink and purple, and he could never figure out what all of it was for. If it wasn't soap and it wasn't shampoo, what purpose did it serve? They did raise another question though. Namely, where had Antony gotten them? "Breakfast sounds great," he said, grimacing as Antony ruffled his hair. He'd been a few feet shorter the last time someone had done that. The sound of annoyance he made in his throat might have doubled as an agreement to Antony's request. It was difficult to tell. "Do they have some sort of general store around here, or something?" His tone contained a bit of nonchalance, but it seemed a little forced. Antoinette Devereux She looked back at him and gave him a knowing smirk at his reaction to the ruffle. It had been intentional, and mostly to counter the fact that she was being sweet to him. Regarding his next question, Antony simply shook her head, "Nah, I just called the people in charged and gave them a list, and they sent it next day." The tattooed woman busied herself with opening the take out box, which contained a wide assortment of breakfast stuffs. Basically, a good portion of each thing that they offered at the cafeteria. There were pancakes, eggs, sausage, bacon, a few bagels (with cream cheese and loads of jam packets), waffles, and toast. She had even brought a jug of skim milk and some orange juice as well. "I didn't know what you liked..." She offered apologetically as she rummaged around for a plate, silverware, and a clean glass. "So I just grabbed a whole bunch of food." Chert Sanders "Ah," Chert said. s**t, he thought. Asking the higher-ups for anything seemed like a questionable course of action. He'd already managed to piss off Aubrey, and Moreau had obviously been steaming for years- what kind of orders might they have given their underlings concerning Chert? Still, he couldn't just wander around the island for the duration of his stay, homeless and without supplies. He could try, he supposed- Chert spent a lot of time outdoors as a result of his (former) profession and enjoyed camping outdoors in his spare time, but that meant he usually had useful tools with him. Utility knives of one sort or another. Water. Shelter. And he wasn't even familiar with the island's environment. There was probably a source of fresh water somewhere, but "somewhere" wasn't much help. Chert viciously jabbed a fork into a waffle. "Thanks," he said muttered darkly. Apparently males weren't completely immune to mood swings. Antoinette Devereux Antony blinked. This wasn't what Antony had expected in the least. It didn't even sound like he meant it when he said thanks! Her semi-good mood was now ruined, and it was obvious on her face. She had done something nice and it had simply been kicked back into her face with nothing more than a grunt of thanks. This was EXACTLY why she never was nice to people who weren't friends, because they never really appreciated it. "I'm going to shower," she grunted curtly. Giving him a pointed glare, she turned and headed back into the bedroom, stripping off her shirt and tossing it into the corner before striding into the bathroom. The water was cranked on to warm up as she returned to gather her new shampoo, soap, and whatnot to put into the bathroom. The rest of her clothes were removed after she shut the door, accidentally leaving the door cracked out of habit. Sighing softly when she finally stepped under the spray to try and calm down. She really didn't want to let her temper out on the man who did save her life, even if he was being an a** about it. She had brought him breakfast! Chert Sanders Antony's glare was met by a frown of annoyed perplexity. If Chert had any talents, social awareness did not rank among them. He paid as much attention to his tone of voice as he did to the latest fashions coming out of Paris, so it came as a complete surprise to him when Antony stormed off to the shower. Bring him breakfast, stomp to the bathroom furiously. Women. Chert finished his waffle and made a half-hearted attempt to tidy up the mess from breakfast, grumbling to himself all the while. Everyone on this island was absolutely mad, stuffing failed science experiments into people's room, blithely running around without a proper pair of pants, pulling knives on other people. And indulging in inexplicable mood-swings. The atmosphere in Antony's room suddenly felt a little... frigid; Chert figured he'd worn out his welcome. Maybe it was best to make it out of there while the more sensitive bits of his male anatomy were still intact. Chert stalked over to the bathroom door and gave it a few short raps. "Antony, I'm-" He'd intended to inform her that he was leaving, but the door swung open unexpectedly. "Jesus!" he exclaimed, darting to the side and closing his eyes as if he expected her to leap out of the room with her teeth bared. "S-sorry!" Antoinette Devereux Thanks to her better sense of hearing, Antony heard the door opening before he realized what had happened and freaked out. Whatever he was expecting, it probably wasn't going to be Antony, as naked as the day she was born, laughing at Chert. As her first day on the island had proved, the tattooed woman had no problem whatsoever being naked in front of a total stranger. Though, there were a few people that she'd never let see her naked (ever again in Billy's case.) Also, luckily for him, the heat of the shower had served to brighten her mood enough not to get pissed off at him. "Ah, for a second there I thought you wanted to join me," she jested, obviously amused that he seemed not only scared of her, but quite uncomfortable in the situation. "But alas," she chuckled to herself before glancing over towards him, "It's no problem, unless you're a virgin and I just scarred you for life..." Oh torturing men was so much fun sometimes. Chert Sanders A mixture of embarassment and annoyance burned in Chert's chest. Antony certainly seemed to be enjoying his discomfort enough. "Go to hell," he said. There were some lines he preferred not to cross with near strangers (very attractive, well-formed strangers, the less rational part of his mind added helpfully), and those lines were probably drawn a little more strictly than Antony's due to his somewhat inhibited upbringing. Her reaction threw him a little off-balance. No scandalized shouting? No chucking of round but surprisingly hefty shampoo bottles? He glanced longingly in the direction of the duplex's exit but the thought of running away with his tail tucked between his legs rankled, so Chert just leaned against the wall with his jaw set stubbornly. Antoinette Devereux "What do you think this island is, paradise?" She asked rhetorically, finishing up her shower and turning the water off before grabbing the towel and wrapping it around herself. Seconds later, she stepped out of the shower and got another towel to dry her hair with. Antony was rather surprised to see that Chert was still there when she walked out of the bathroom, and she simply raised an eyebrow playfully. "Why should I be ashamed?" The squirrel woman questioned bluntly while continuing to dry her hair with the towel. Maybe he saw her as some sort of wild or bad girl, but she really didn't care. It was just how she was, comfortable with her body and rather apathetic to whether most other people saw her naked. Chert Sanders There didn't seem to be a good answer to her question, so Chert just shrugged. She didn't have anything to be ashamed about, it was just-... Well, he'd seen it all before, but she was-... None of his thoughts seemed able to sort themselves out enough to be completed, and he was left feeling at loose ends. His hand reached back to grab his hat and lay it low over his eyes in a nervous, deeply-ingrained gesture. It was the kind of habit that seemed to live more in the muscle than it did in the brain, so when the hat wasn't there he was both surprised to find his hand reaching for it and to find that it was absent. Chert blinked. His ******** hat... was in his ******** duplex. It might have seemed strange to some people that the loss of a hat could instill such dismay in someone, but these people obviously did not understand the amount of time and patience that needed to be invested into a hat (between all the time that was spent breaking it in and the time spent taking care of it, it was a little like having a dog. Just without the tongue, tail, and the distressing tendency to piddle on the floor). While the hat might not have been worth going back to the duplex all on its own, its absence did cause just enough distress to snap Chert out of his inaction. Antony's hospitality was appreciated, but he had to do something, whether it was recklessly storm back into his duplex (not likely), stand outside the door thinking about recklessly storming back into his duplex (more likely), or wander around for awhile in search of a suitable place to camp out while he plotted his escape from the island (most likely, although the chance of escaping was less so). "I just wanted to tell you I was leaving," Chert said stupidly as he made for the door. He wanted to thank her for her hospitality, but there was nothin' doin' after she'd teased him. Pride can be such a self-destructive impulse. Antoinette Devereux If Antony had been surprised before, she was utterly shocked that wasn't checking her out, but that she was in naught but a towel and he wasn't. Not only that, but he had seen her naked just moments before. It had to be the tails. Sighing to mask her shock, Antony nodded slightly and simply watched him leave. "Good bye then," she said softly, still really confused at what just happened. This is why she wasn't nice to strangers. Antony growled in frustration before moving to get dressed. "Men," she grunted irritably. He had to be gay.
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Posted: Wed Mar 22, 2006 8:20 pm
Peas in a Pod
It's Like Deja-Vu, Only Angrier Antoinette Deverux It took several days, but Antony finally relaxed after realizing that Billy wasn't about to come after her again. Either he died, or found some sort of drugs to keep him content and not homicidal. So Antony had decided, after much thinking in her duplex, to go down to the beach and make a day out of it. She surfed in the morning, as usual, and after grabbing some food from the dining hall for lunch and dinner later, she combed the beach for driftwood to use for a fire. Soon enough the fire was roaring and the tattooed woman was next to it, sitting on her towel with a new sketchbook opened. It was a good way to pass the afternoon and relax, along with smoking, that is. Only the former activity ceased to continue when the sun set, but the latter did since she was alone and there was no one there to b***h and moan about the smoke. When the stars came out, Antony sat back and laid down to look up at the sky. She was in surfer shorts and a white tank top, which were worn over her bathing suit from earlier. Her board was laying on the opposite side of her, away from the fire, and the food was set on top of it untouched for now. Chert Sanders The pale sands of the beach glimmered faintly through the cracks between the forest's trees. The surface of the ocean was slick with the quicksilver light of the moon, a gentle display that nevertheless left faint purple shadows dancing across Chert's eyes after he was carless enough to let his mind wander and his gaze become static. Staying alert was proving to be a difficult task. The last decent night's sleep he'd gotten had been at Antony's. Since then, he'd been wandering across a small portion of the island, slowly expanding his mental map of the natural terrain and the manmade buildings and exploring the resources that were available to him. As it turned out, there was a large lake almost directly next to the town. Chert had taken advantage of the fresh water and the lack of human company, and had already bathed as best he could. He'd also been in and out of the cafeteria a few times, always careful to make sure there was nobody there already... Except for the lunch lady, of course, who seemed as permanent a fixture as the lights on the ceiling (and just about as silent, too). Once or twice he'd begun to fall asleep sitting at the table, but each time he'd been startled awake by the vicious jab of a nightmare. Mostly, it had been the chimpanzee's face. The animal's features might have been foreign, but misery evident in its face was completely human. Help me, save me, have mercy. At first, Chert had simply tried to supress the memory (that particular method had served him well in the past), but the sub-conscious is an expert at digging up buried material. It had pestered him until he was too tired to keep up the pretense of "scouting" any longer. If Chert was going to try and escape, he needed his things, and to get them he would have to go back to his duplex. That still left the question of what he was going to do with his unwelcome house-guests once he arrived. More time had been wasted dancing around that unpleasant thought. As disgusting and twisted as the creatures were, they were still only animals- victims of Doctor Moreau. As easy as it would be to just leave them where they were, Chert didn't like the thought of letting them simply die of dehydration or starvation. That additional cruelty might have been small in comparision to the other things they'd suffered, but he didn't want to have a hand in it. He hadn't know what to do... until he'd wandered by the toolshed. There'd been a shovel... Chert walked out of the forest with the instrument slung over one shoulder. He wanted a brief moment of peace and quiet before he did what was needed. However, he discovered that there was an unexpected fire on the beach. The light effectively concealed whoever it was that had started from sight. Curious, he wandered nearer. Antoinette Devereux The approaching figure was heard and then smelled, in that order, before she actually identified the man approaching by sight. It was Chert. A very poorly shaven and sleep deprived one from the looks of it, and he had a shovel, which was unsettling at least. Why would someone carry a shovel onto the beach? Lazily, Antony took one last drag from her smoke before flicking it into the fire to burn away entirely. "Going to look for buried treasure?" She asked casually, pushing herself to a half sitting position while cocking her head to the side. Chert Sanders A brief twitch of the eyebrows gave away Chert's surprise at finding Antony on the beach. There was an island stuffed full of subjects, and he managed to find the one he'd managed to piss of only a few days before. It was a talent, really. She didn't seem to be openly angry at the moment, though, which could be a good sign. Maybe. Chert stared at her blankly for a moment after she spoke before belatedly realizing that she was referring to the shovel he'd carried with him. "Digging a hole to China," he said with a faint grin that probably failed quite completely to be reassuring. "I figure I'd rather take my chances there." Antoinette Devereux "To China eh?" She raised an eyebrow and pushed herself into a full sitting position. The idea of him digging a hole reminded her of her and Jamal's pit trap, and the bones they had found inside it. Thinking it best not to mention that quite yet, or at all actually, Antony patted the towel next to her as an invitation. "China can wait," the squirrel woman stated with a grin, "Besides, they have cameras everywhere... Among other things..." She trailed off, not really knowing if she wanted to divulge any further at the moment, mostly because she couldn't think of what else to say. Chert Sanders The towel and the soft sand looked wonderfully inviting, but Chert shook his head. "If I sit down now, I'm going to have a hell of time getting back up," he said. Instead, he buried the head of the shovel into the sand with a quick jab downwards and leaned on the handle. "Cameras?" The news wasn't unexpected, but it was a little disappointing to have his suspicions verified. Getting off the island would be that much harder. "Where've you found them?" The squirrel woman's ambiguous reference to "other things" hidden on the island besides cameras was curious, but she seemed hesitant to broach the subject. Maybe it was something she didn't want Moreau to know she knew. Perhaps it was just unpleasant. He wasn't exactly jumping at the chance to talk about the creatures in his room. Chert figured she'd get to it in her own time. Antoinette Devereux "Then don't get up," she concluded, frowning slightly as she shrugged, "I've slept right here several times, back when the ******** lock out happened." Antony gave him a pointed look that implied he should be happy he didn't have to deal with that. "I'm all for camping, but waking up middle of the jungle and then having to spend two months fending for ourselves until the staff suddenly appeared again... Not so much fun for a lady." Hopefully, he'd get the idea of why Antony didn't like being without access to her duplex, and thus her tampons and birth control. "Anyways," she grunted before she could remind herself too much of the pregnancy scare she had had right there on the beach, "They're in all the buildings, and everywhere else I'd assume... We're like a giant soap opera to them I'd think, and they know exactly who's slept with who and whatever else happens on those shows." They probably got off on watching her and Jamal for all she knew. Free porn and all. Chert Sanders Chert's eyes widened; between the dark rings that were already beginning to form there and the deep shadows that the fire cast around his eye sockets, he looked a little like a highly indignant racoon. "That sadistic ******** sociopath!" he spat. The knuckles of the hand that gripped the shovel's shaft were white. It was the first he'd heard of the lockout, and he was appalled at the blatant disregard for simple human decency that it demonstrated. "Who the hell does he think he is, playing with people's..." The man seemed to realize what he was saying, laughed quietly, and rested his forehead on the handle of the shovel. "Right," he said. "But don't the evil-doers usually 'get theirs' in the soaps?" Antoinette Devereux Her eyebrows raised when he sneered, remaining silent until he finally cut himself off. "God probably," Antony finished for him, running a hand through her hair out of habit before speaking up again. "This island's an experiment, and the whole Survivor thing was one big experiment... Apparently to see how we reacted to our new 'instincts' in the wild." She tried to keep her voice as level as possible while explaining this to him, as to try to keep him from storming off again. "I don't watch soaps really," she admitted after the question was asked, "Or rather I didn't since I was mostly working at my jobs and... Well, the usual nightly activities..." A crooked smirk played on her full lips as she watched him for a reaction the the last statement, making a point not to include romantic relationships to the list. Chert Sanders It sounded as if there were any number of things that could have gone awry during that whole little "experiment." He'd seen a cat-like woman a few days before. Chert wondered what happened when you mixed a hungry, confused predator with someone that was turning into a prey animal (say... a squirrel). Would instinct prevail, or would human reasoning keep anything too unfortunate from happening? The thought that the transformation affected more than their physical shape wasn't a happy one. Chert happily snagged the chance to steer the conversation away from Moreau's grand adventures in genetic modification. "Crossword puzzles? Thrilling nocturnal chess tournaments?" he suggested, feigning innocence. The fact that Antony had completely omitted any mention of romantic relationships didn't strike him as odd; Chert was exactly the type to discuss such squishy, touchy-feely things. Ugh. "What'd you do before you came here, anyway?" A part of him realized he was letting himself get distracted from his original goal, again. Antoinette Devereux Antony gave him a confused look when he mentioned various games, and she simply looked at him as if he were crazy before responding, "I rearrange furniture, actually." It was partially true, even if it was a joke, which she gave away by letting her eyes sparkle something not so innocent. His next question caused her to smile somewhat sadly, "Professional tattoo artist and an auto mechanic, though I can fix just about anything... Machine wise." The last bit was added on as an afterthought. She wasn't exactly the emotional fixer upper person, or whatever else girls usually did. "Damn I miss my car," she practically moaned in pain as it dawned on her that she'd never get to drive again, or see her Sandy again. And that made her materialistic and sad. Antony had, after all, rebuilt the 1967 Pontiac GTO herself. The love of her life. Chert Sanders Chert tilted his head to the side slightly. "Like... 'fang shway?'" he inquired doubtfully. The last time he'd rearranged his furniture was when he'd moved into his house. Auto mechanic clicked in neatly with his mental picture of Antony, though he decided against mentioning his own car- it was liable to make a mechanic cry, and not in the good way. Jeeps as old as his probably only held together because they were half-fossilized. Her bereaved groan caused the corner of Chert's mouth to curl upwards in a small grin. It sounded almost as if she were grieving for the loss of a beloved family member. "A moment a silence, please, in respect for Antony's automotive mobility," he said, although he wasn't entirely devoid of sympathy. But it was a hell of lot easier to joke about the losses that came with life on the island than to just sit there and think about the things you'd never get to do again. "I s'ppose my old job isn't much use, either, unless there's a tropical elk species we've overlooked." Antoinette Devereux "Feng shui?" She asked, trying to hide her laughter before allowing it to spill freely out. "Use your imagination a bit more dear Chert." Antony made sure to speak in a more throaty tone since he was male, and obviously needed a bit more help figuring this out. His next comment caused her to roll her eyes as a smile crept onto her lips, "She's a 1967 Pontiac GTO... And my one true love," the tattooed woman purred, eyes glazing over somewhat to accompany the noise. Pulled out of her trance by his next question, she raised an eyebrow curiously, "Tropical elk? Explain." She honestly didn't know how to respond to that. Maybe he was a strange hunter? Proving he's a big man by shooting bigger animal men and hanging their heads on the living room wall. Chert Sanders A laugh even escaped from Chert as he belatedly realized what Antony had been alluding to. "I've been accused of being many things, but imaginative isn't one of them," he said with a wry grin. Although his smile seemed sincere, a raw edge of stress and fatigue was visible behind it. "Before coming here, I studied wild elk populations and gave some tours for Zion. As you could probably guess-" The gesture of his hand included the wide expanse of ocean and the tropical forest a short distance away, "-I'm a little out of my element." He despised not knowing the names of the plants that he saw, or recognizing at least some of the bird song he heard, or being able to wear long sleeves without feeling like his was roasting in his own juices. Island life was highly overrated. "What're you doing out here at this time of night, anyway?" The question was a little abrupt, but it fit in well with his own, silent mental processes. Antoinette Devereux "Ah, well I think I'm much more out of my element than you," she gave him slight grin before pushing her hair back out of her face. "You can always learn though... Anjali's a botanist..." Trailing off, Antony chuckled nervously, "Who's turning into a plant..." There was that irony again. Sighing in relief when he changed the subject, Antony shrugged slightly, "I've been here for a while... Surfed this morning, rebuilt the fire, and then spent the afternoon sketching to relax... Besides, I appreciate the beach more when I'm not sleeping on it every night. Sand isn't exactly giving to curves, among other things." That had been the one thing that had pissed her off about the Survivor thing, her back becoming kinked up in all the wrong places. "What about you?" She asked, tails flicking before settling back on the towel. Chert Sanders "He's a real card, that Moreau. Bet he's got the whole ********' staff in stiches." Secretly, though, Chert was amazed that such a transformation was possible. Most of the people he'd seen (with the exception of the fish girl) were at least remaining mammals. The other woman's creature wasn't even in the same kingdom. He wondered briefly what would happen to her circulatory system, not to mention her skeletal system, and decided he was very glad that he was not Angali. The next reversal in the flow of conversation very nearly caused Chert to wince, although he should have expected it. Damn social conventions. "I thought we'd been over that already," he said with an air of careful nonchalance. "Me. Shovel. Communist paradise." Despite his casual tone and studiously bland expression, his blue-green eyes suddenly shone cold in the warm light of the fire. Antoinette Devereux "Ah yes, I'd forgotten... How was it again you were going to shovel through the core of the Earth when it can't even be done with the best of technologies?" Antony may have seemed more than a bit curt, but it was his cold eyes that influenced her tone. She didn't appreciate being treated as if she were simply a stupid woman, even though something told her that he wasn't trying to do so. Taking a deep breath to calm her temper down somewhat, Antony glanced up at him and cocked her head to the side. Up until that last comment, she had really been enjoying his company, and hopefully she could make it last a little bit longer. "How old are you?" She asked, tails twitching up against her lower back. Chert Sanders For a moment, after his attempt to gloss over the issue had failed miserably and Antony's ire had been aroused, Chert was certain they were both going to suffer through a repeat of the last argument they'd had. His jaw was already set mulishly in that distinctive position that signified he wasn't planning to give up an inch, even if he were standing in the middle of the train tracks with a whistle sounding in the distance. But then, instead of continuing to dole out more scathing remarks, Antony merely took a breath and asked his age. The train had jumped its tracks and floated serenly over Chert's head like a big, improbable bird. "Thirty," he answered cautiously, the feeling of defensiveness already deflating. It was simply too difficult to maintain under the pressure of fatigue. Besides, if she wasn't asking about his activities that day or his plans for the near future, there's wasn't really anything to be defensive about. By morning, it won't be a problem he thought grimly, but said aloud, "Although with my skin, people tell me I could pass for a young girl of twenty." Actually, people commonly mistook him for a man of slightly later years; all that time under the desert sun hadn't been kind, and there were already faint lines beginning to collect in the corner of his eyes. Antoinette Devereux "Thirty," she repeated with a slight bit of surprise. He had looked a bit older than that in all honesty. Then again, Owl was in his fifties and he had definately not looked as old as that. That and Antony wasn't exactly the best at age guessing anyways. The woman was not about to divulge hers unless he asked her. If he didn't care to ask then she didn't care to tell. His next comment caused her to snort softly before breaking into light laughter, "A young girl of twenty eh? Well I guess I can see that, with your young, taught bosoms and all." Her eyes twinkled playfully so he wouldn't have an excuse to take offense to the comment, she had been joking, after all. Antony didn't know about him, but several of her guy friends looked at the twins to try and gauge age. Mostly they took it as an excuse to oogle them, but if they hung too low... Well then, they determined you old. Chert Sanders Chert didn't seem to mind her surprise. It was a reaction he was used to, and he figured there wasn't much point in being upset about it since everyone was going to die eventually, anyway; if people tended to mark him as a little older than he was, that just meant that he was further away from expiring of old age than most people expected. And that was a good thing, in Chert's book. It was probably as close to an optimistic philosophy as he'd ever get. He was a little disappointed when Antony didn't respond in kind and reveal her age as he'd expected she might, but after the omission asking her directly seemed a questionable course of action. Some people got upset over that sort of thing, and as Chert wasn't observant enough to tell if Antony belonged to that group or not, he decided it was best to err on the side of caution and keep his mouth shut. Judging age wasn't one of his talents, either, but it seemed likely she was somewhere close to his own. He did, in fact, have a few friends that swore up and down the wall that examining a woman's bust was the most accurate way to tell her age. They argued that after millions of years of evolution, males ought to be pretty clued-in to the secrets and subtleties of the female mammary glands. Chert wanted to know how plastic surgery or padded bras factored into to all that. His friends had sighed and insisted that he was missing the point. Either way, he decided that Antony definitely fell into the "not old" catagory. Antony's jest caused the man's face to break into a grin, which he tried to counter with a mock-frown. "Is that really an image you want floating around in your brain?" he inquired. Chert Sanders "Well," she began, grin on her face echoing his, "Since I own a pair, I think I'll live... Unles you want to give me a better one." Antony gave him a cheeky smile while cocking her head to the side and wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. It wasn't meant to be entirely serious, but to be comical in a strange way. The tattooed woman did notice that Chert steered clear from asking her age, and she chuckled softly to herself before answering his silent question, "27." Hopefully he'd be able to pick up on what she was referring to. Chert Sanders Chert raised his eyebrows in feigned perplexity. "Sorry, but I only have one," he said with a shrug. Part of him was laughing helplessly at the surreal nature of the situation. Engaging in suggestive banter with a squirrel-woman on a beach in the middle of the night just a little while before he planned to go back and reclaim his duplex from the nightmares that had been placed there by a mad scientist's very pissed off girlfriend- ... well, you just couldn't make that s**t up. He scratched at the stubble growing on his chin and snorted mirthfully. The world tended to be at least twice as funny when one was viewing it through the foggy goggles of sleep deprivation, and it was harder to prevent oneself from laughing at thoughts that the rest of the world wasn't privy to. Antoinette Devereux Antony chuckled, "That's because men are lucky bastards." As he spaced out, she tilted her head to the side and watched him in both the light of the moon and the fire. He began to act quite strangely, scratching his chin and snorting. Not to mention his expression was one that Antony couldn't describe for the life of her. "So is Chert just a nickname?" She asked, the weird silence bothering her. Besides, Antony was honestly curious about this one. Chert was a strange name, afterall. Chert Sanders The question dragged Chert out of his thoughts almost before he'd realized he'd begun to sink down in to them. "It's my punishment for hanging out with a bunch of geologists," he answered. A good-natured eye roll said what he thought about them. "I don't even remember what the joke originally was, but the name stuck." Actually, he recalled the joke fairly well- his colleagues had only told it five thousand times- but he also recalled the blank looks the joke's explanation drew from non-geologists. Chert has been completely unamused, himself, but that only seemed to make it that much funnier for them. "My real name is Brian, but no one calls me that." It was funny how the name on his birth certificate sounded so foreign when he said it aloud, as if it weren't actually his. "What about 'Antony?'" Antoinette Devereux Nodding, the tattooed woman smiled and nodded, "I don't get it... But probably because I'm not a geologist." It was true, the joke was a loss to her, and she wasn't going to pretend to understand. With his question, Antony actually chuckled, grin growing wider, "Well, my birth name is Antoinette after my mother, but back in high school a bunch of my friends decided to start calling me Antony because all the preps thought I was a lesbian. Scared the hell out of them. It was brilliant because I was never bothered by any of that clique nonsense. Though, I think that rumor spread and morphed into me being a lesbian porn star... Or some s**t like that..." She was obviously proud of herself, and entirely found the memory amusing still. Antoinette Devereux Chert waved a hand dismissively "Nobody gets geology jokes but geologists." Nevermind that he could easily picture Larry sitting down and saying the same thing about Chert's awful biology jokes. Back home the two had kept up a running debate over which science was superior even though they both knew that it was ultimately a moot point; they were all connected at the end of the day. Still, harmonious agreement wasn't very entertaining. Chert was amused that he still felt the need to keep up the argument even though Larry was miles and miles away. The small pang of regret that the thought of his friend stirred up was swallowed by the surprise of Antony's real name. "Antoinette?" Chert repeated, at a loss for anything better to say. He tried not to grin too widely. The name and the rumor she mentioned dredged up a faint memory, though. It was faded and tattered and hard to hold onto, but it was there nonetheless. "Porn star..." he muttered contemplatively. Antoinette Devereux "After my mother, she died giving birth to me," Antony shrugged, sighing somewhat before noticing him attempting to hide his grin. "What's so funny?" Granted, her name was quite girly and... French, but it was her mother's name. The look that came over his face moments later caused her to raise an eyebrow and cross her arms over her chest. "Yes, a lesbian porn star, but I'm entirely straight as long as I'm sober." She stated, not really knowing what to say, his expression confusing her to a point. Chert Sanders The explanation of Antony's namesake effectively wiped the grin off of Chert's face. "Er, nothin'," he muttered guiltily. Her near-defensive posture rekindled his amusement in the next moment, though. "I'm not questioning your sexuality. I just seem to remember-..." The fingers on his right hand twitched in a cryptical, unhelpful gesture. He didn't have a face to go with the memory that was bothering him and the possibility that she was involved seemed remote, but he didn't see the harm in asking. "Did you go to a private school?" Antoinette Devereux "Nope," she replied, raising an eyebrow when he seemed to be thinking awefully hard. "Public school in Maryland... Why?" It didn't exactly seem possible that he had gone to her school, or even that he was from the same town as she was from. Then again, this island was ******** weird. "Well Brian, where are you from then?" Antony absently wondered how anyone could see her at a private school with tattoos and piercings. Chert Sanders The use of his Chert's name earned Antony a dark glare and an irritated growl. Apparently, she'd locked onto one of his largest pet peeves almost effortlessly. He opened his mouth to growl something caustic, but it was then that the memory he'd been poking at clicked into place. The rumor hadn't actually started at his school; it had been one of those rare, long-reaching stories that breached the borders of its home institution and spread to the surrounding areas like a virus. "Candy Coxx?" he blurted. Unless she knew what he was talking about he'd likely end up sounding like a complete a**, but he almost preferred that scenario. Some coincidences were almost too bizarre to bear. Antoinette Devereux She gave him a simple smile when he growled, as if pointing out that she had done it intentionally and because he had laughed at her name. Suddenly her eyes went wide in disbelief. "I don't ******** believe it," she blinked, tilting her head to the side and staring up at him. "I'd just like to state that I wasn't the one who annointed me with that name... It's horrible." This was... so strange. Chert Sanders "That's kind of the point of a porn alias, isn't it?" Effective advertising and all that. It was hard to believe that the woman sitting in front of him had actually been the center of the high school rumor. First, there'd been, then Valentine, then Aubrey- and now Antony! Goddamnit, Chert had graduated high school over a decade ago. This was ridiculous. "You've got to be shitting me," he muttered under his breath. Antoinette Devereux "Do you really think I'm shitting you?" She grunted, rolling her eyes before lazily cracking her neck It was getting stiff after she had been looking up at him for a while. "Eh, kept me out of all that high school drama..." Trailing off, her face darkened somewhat as she remembered a certain male that she dated during high school. Antony suddenly shook her head, as if to literally shake the thoughts from her head. He wasn't who she wanted to be thinking of right now, or ever again. Chert Sanders Judging from Antony's expression, the subject matter was inspiring some less-than-pleasant thoughts. Either that, or he'd managed to give her a hell of a crick-in-the-neck by maintaining his upright position for so long. His feet certainly weren't singing him songs of praise at that point. "And what do you do to keep yourself out of all this island drama?" he asked, thinking of the events that had taken place a few days before in the cafeteria. Antoinette Devereux Antony chuckled, "Oh believe me... I'm definately in the middle of a lot of the drama... I know it may come as a shock to you, but I can be a bit... abrasive." Her grin was cheeky, and she feigned a sort of propriety. "Eh, I'm just not a goody-goody, and so I stick out like a sore thumb." It was true, her and Jamal were pretty much the only 'trouble makers' around it seemed. At least before Billy arrived that is. "That and I have a bit of a temper, which if I recall our first meeting correctly, you share that lovely quality. It really does take one to know one sometimes..." She didn't say this to be mean or even to poke fun at him, but simply to make mention that she had the quirk as well. Chert Sanders You could probably have sanded a table with their combined personalities, but Chert enjoyed the fact that Antony didn't seem inclined to try and swallow the prickly situation she was in with a shrug and smile. There were instances in which the whole "grin and bear it" philosophy might have worked, but he thought that mostly it seemed to begging for fate to punch your teeth out. "What are you going on about?" Chert demanded, looking scandalized. "I'm meek as a ********' lamb. You're obviously jealous of my sunny disposition." Antoinette Devereux An eyebrow cocked at his exclamation, and she had to fight to hide a grin. He was reminding her of her friends at home, except with no piercings or tattoos whatsoever. Not afraid to curse or make jokes. "Well, I may be blinded from time to time..." She mused thoughtfully, tapping her chin and sighing. "But you and I, my friend, are just two peas in a pod... Two easily angered peas might I add." Chert Sanders Chert laughed at the bizarre twist on the old cliche. "World beware, the only thing we fear are herbivores." For a moment it was easy to forget the purpose of the shovel he was leaning on, or the reason for his fatigue. He was simply enjoying some good company near a pleasant bonfire on the beach. Ignoring the insistant pull of more troublesome thoughts wasn't easy, however, and he found his gaze wandering in the direction on the duplexes even though the rest of his mind was focused on the conversation. "I'd think there'd be more trouble-makers, though," he said, referring back to the other islanders. "This isn't exactly an ideal vacation." Antoinette Devereux "And omnivores," she added with a 'eureka' sort of hand gesture, grinning in amusement, much more relaxed after jesting around with Chert. Though, his next comment caused her smile to falter somewhat, "Well... A lot of the people are more accepting than others I believe... Or they haven't seen anyone else transform..." Antony glanced up at him before trailing her fingers through the sand next to her. "I just wish... People back home had... closure." Chert Sanders A pang of dismay struck Chert as he saw her smile fade somewhat- he hadn't expected his words would lead down such a depressing path, and he wasn't sure of how to proceed. Up until then, Chert had been running on the assumption that he was going to escape the island in the near future. There wasn't yet a cohesive plan and he hadn't even begun to collect the supplies needed for a decent escape, but there existed no doubt in his mind; he wasn't staying on the ******** island. However, faced with such a tangible consequence of Moreau's experiments as Antony, any blithe promise of freedom Chert could make felt hollow and false. There was the matter of the horrible but apparently vital injections she'd mentioned earlier. And even if the islanders managed to escape the island and the effects of the stalled injections, that still left the question of what would happen to them once they reached the outside world. A woman with three tails was bound to attract attention, and not the good sort. Still, hearing her talk like she was already dead lit a slow-burning fire in Chert's chest. "We'll kick Moreau's a** someday soon," he offered. Antoinette Devereux "I wouldn't advise it, the last person who attacked staff got chucked in a cage without food or water and then was put on display." Antony sighed slightly, moving her legs out straight so they wouldn't fall asleep anytime soon. Though she wasn't much of one who just lets people control her, Antony knew enough not to ******** with the 'good doctor' if she wanted her stay here to at least be decent. "Moreau's a sadistic b*****d, and if you piss him off... Your life will be more than hell..." She knew what she was capable of, and she also knew that Moreau was ten million times worse than her. A risk she was not willing to take. "God I need a drink," the woman grunted, eyes drifting in the direction of the Beach Bar. Maybe it was stocked up? Chert Sanders Chert snorted irritably to cover up the agitation that Jamal's predicament caused. It sent a clear message about the position of the islanders. "I'm well aware of that," he grumbled. The next words out of her mouth and the possibility they hinted at eased his ill humor, somewhat. He followed her gaze to the bamboo and beachwood construction, cautiously hopeful. God, I need a drink. Amen. Chert motioned for Antony to stay seated, knowing full well she'd do whatever the hell she wanted, and went off to investigate. The small hut was better constructed that it appeared to be at first glance, and the bar felt stable under his weight as he leaned over the side to take a peek at what might be available. "Will wonders never cease!" he called. "Pick your poison." Antoinette Devereux She watched him curiously as he motioned for her to stay seated, letting her eyes naturally wander along his form while she could still see him in what little light there was. It was when he hefted himself over the bar did her grin grow dangerously. His next statements made her quite elated. Good. He wasn't against drinking. "Grey Goose por favor," she called back, absolutely giddy that she had aquired another drinking buddy. Lazily, she flopped back on the towel and onto her side while she waited for him to amble back with the sweet sweet alcohol. Chert Sanders Chert let out an unconscious hum of approval at her choice, quite unaware of her wandering eyes. It took him a moment to locate the vodka of choice among all of the other bottles on the shelf, but he returned a short time later bearing the Gray Goose and two glasses. "Would you believe they had absinthe, too?" he asked, offering her a glass before sitting down. A few of his joint popped stiffly as he did so, displeased with their prior treatment. Antoinette Devereux "Actually, I would," she chuckled before taking the glass from him and pushed herself into a sitting position again, scooting over a bit to give him room on the towel. "Fill me up baby," Antony added a wink to a sultry expression, intentionally being a bit cheeky. Chert Sanders "Your wish is my command," Chert said with a dry grin. He filled her glass and began to scoot onto the towl, but aborted the maneuver when he realized that the beach was determined to come with him. Oh well. His a** would survive a little sand. Chert filled his own glass and rammed the bottle securely into the earth. Antoinette Devereux Antony purred softly as she watched the liquid poured into her glass, flicking her changed eyes up at his before taking a mouthful and swallowing it. The familiar burn was welcome, and immediately cheered her somewhat. "Do I get more wishes?" She murmured throatily. It was hard to tell if she was still joking or not, but her lips were curved into a playful smirk. Chert Sanders Chert took a moment to savor the taste of the vodka- definitely not cheap stuff- before answering. "I believe the standard is three," he said, flicking a few specks of sand off of the rim of his glass. Goddamnit, the stuff got into everything. Antoinette Devereux Wiggling her eyebrows at him as she took another lengthy drink of her vodka, Antony watched him curiously a moment as if considering her options. "Anything?" A grin cultivated along her lips at the possibilities this could present. This had potential... Hopefully Chert was straight. Chert Sanders Straight or not, he was as dense as a neutron star. Somehow, Antony's signals had failed to penetrate his brain, although the pleasant mood the discovery of the alcohol induced might easily have seemed to suggest otherwise. He returned her grin and chuckled, "I don't dance and I don't give foot massages. Other than that, the sky's the limit." Antoinette Devereux To her, he seemed to be giving signals that he was, in fact, interested in her. The word massage perked her attention, tails twitching excitedly while her eyes drifted down to his normal hands almost hungrily. "What about back massages?" Antony asked hopefully. Jamal usually gave them to her, but ever since he grew claws she didn't really trust him with deep tissue massages. She was rather attached to her spine, literally and emotionally. Chert had normal hands. That and for some reason, simply asking for sex didn't seem the right approach. Chert Sanders Chert had mostly been expecting her to say something flippant or sarcastic, so the actual request gave him a moment's pause. Back massages weren't something he normally handed out, partially because very few people sat down and said, "You know who'd give a fabluous massage? Chert!" and partially because the ones who actually did had a sneaking suspicion that he'd laugh in their faces if they asked. Still, he had technically promised Antony two more wishes, and the memory of the night at her duplex was still fresh in his mind- he'd never properly thanked her because he was convinced that it would raise a myriad of unwanted questions ("Why wouldn't you want to go back to your duplex?"), but he was grateful nonetheless. That, and the thought of giving Antony a back massage wasn't unpleasant by any stretch of the imagination. If she were a burly, bewhiskered lumberjack, there might have been problems. Chert uttered a sound of assent and found a place to secure his glass while he waited for her to turn around. Antoinette Devereux She herself was expecting him to laugh and say no, or for her to have to pretend she was actually joking. So she was surprised when he conceeded so easily, and after throwing back another throatful of alcohol, Antony shifted so that she was laying on her stomach. The near empty glass was carefully set in front of her so it wouldn't spill. Turning around slightly, she raised her eyebrows in mock impatience, tails flicking more fluidly thanks to the vodka. Chert Sanders Her expression elicited a frown from Chert- don't get too used to it- as he knelt down at her side. The firm touch of his broad hands lacked finesse, but his fingers were adept at searching out knotted muscle groups and convincing them to relax. "You sleep on a board the past few nights or something?" Antoinette Devereux She groaned into her arm where her cheek was resting, eyes closing blissfully. He may not have the dexterity that Jamal did, but they were getting the job done. Damn were they ever. "It's probably from sleeping on the beach for two months straight." Chert Sanders Chert smirked at the back of her head. "I thought squirrels were woodland creatures." The movement of Antony's tails occupied part of his attention while he worked on her back. They were strange, but not repulsive, and he was beginning to suspect they were fairly decent indicators of her mood. If only he were versed in the intricacies of squirrel body language. Maybe he'd picked the wrong species to study. Antoinette Devereux "I was normal then," she grumbled, irritation soon smoothed over by the movements of his fingertips raking the knots out of her muscles. It was her 'everything is just dandy' spot, just like Jamal's was his stomach. All her worries, thanks to Chert and the alcohol, were washed away, leaving only a warm tingle of happiness, tails relaxing as if they had just eaten a full meal. Chert Sanders]"Normal. Right." There was amusement in his voice, but it wasn't mean-spirited.
The act of relaxing another person seemed to relax Chert, as well, and the small portion of vodka he'd consumed helped to muffle some of his jangling nerves. In the absence of those discomforts, a tide of fatigue eagerly rose to try and encompass him. He was surprised by a wide yawn that refused to be supressed, causing his jaw to pop audibly. Just how long had he been on the beach?
Chert let his hands drop to his side and fell back into his prior sitting position. "You have a talent." [/quote]
[quote="Antoinette Devereux Mean spirited or not, Antony ignored it due to the happy buttons being pressed repeatedly. And then he stopped. Antony warily turned her head to look at him, rolling onto her side with a low groan, sad that the massage seemed to be over. Though, his next comment caused her to smile, mischief sparkling in her half lidded, changed eyes. "I have many talents," she purred, reaching up and trailing her index finger lightly along his jaw as she lazily watched for his reaction, a 'go' sign even. Chert Sanders The shovel that sat with its nose buried in the sand had attracted Chert's attention for a moment, but Antony's unexpected touch caused his eyes to snap forward. He found himself staring directly into the strangely colored gaze of the squirrel woman, an electric shiver dancing from his jaw to the bottom of his spine. This was a sign even he couldn't overlook. But though his body was convinced that this was a splendid development indeed, the rest of him was busy spluttering in astonishment. By his somewhat limited perception, Antony's advance had some in from left field- and Chert didn't react well to surprises. Instead of responding warmly, he jerked his torso backwards a few inches. It was more of a defensive reflex than anything, though it probably could have been interpreted as any number of things- revulsion, rejection, displeasure... Antoinette Devereux Antony's arm was left suspended in mid air when he jerked away, contact broken almost immediately. Her eyes widened in shock, lower lip dropping so that her mouth was parted in surprise. It didn't take long for her expression to shift to a pained look, which quickly changed into anger, red eyes accentuating the seething glare she gave him. "You're just like Billy," she sneered, draining the rest of her glass in a sharp movement, a hiss quickly following her swallow. Sweet, sweet alcohol. Her chest heaved, and her fists tightened at her sides as she tried to push her anger away. She was tired of being rejected. It wasn't her to get rejected! But with the tails, and the fur... Antony dropped her eyes to the towel, allowing her hair to fall into her face in order to cover it somewhat. It had to be realized sometime. She was a freak now. An ugly, side-show sort of display. Not sexy anymore. And that was a harsh blow to her confidence... Again. "Just..." She began, voice raw as if she was fighting back emotions, namely anger and pain. "Let the repulsive rodent woman get piss drunk to mend her ego." The fact that she admitted it out loud brought more pain than she would have thought. Chert Sanders Having never been properly introduced to Billy, Chert was unable to match the name she spat with the face of the man he'd encountered earlier. Either way, the loathing in her voice made it clear that the comparison was an insult. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he demanded. Confusion and outrage formed an acrid mixture in his stomach. Pleasant moments seemed to slip away so suddenly on the island, like the edge of a cliff that crumbled without warning. It was simply impossible to keep your footing. Chert got to his feet, too full of frustration to continue sitting. He could feel a thousand angry words seething on his tongue, but Antony's posture kept them from spilling forth immediately. Her demeanor seemed almost dejected- definitely not what he'd learned to expect from Antony in the short time that he'd known her. The next words out of her mouth were just as unexpected. Chert just stood and stared in amazement. He'd given her a back rub, for godssake! Had contact with her fur and everything. Sure, it was a little disconcerting, but if he'd been disgusted he'd have simply wandered in the other direction as soon as he'd spotted her. He didn't feel obligated to visit and play nice with anyone if he didn't feel like it. Repulsive? She didn't know the meaning of repulsive. The self-pity and anger in her voice fanned the flames of his own infuriation. "******** ridiculous," he hissed. Antoinette Devereux "It means," she growled, trying to keep her calm as best as she could and failing miserably, just like her ability to form coherent sentences. "I only touched your jaw! Why the ******** did you jerk away?!" The only explanation she could come up with was that he was a male, and that wasn't exactly a valid explanation. Her eyes snapped up to follow his movements, tails bristling as she made a sort of angry bark. "You're right! It is ******** ridiculous! Do you know how dense you are? Or maybe you just don't like women?" The last statement was a low blow, but her anger had replaced her mini-pity party right quick. Antony was on her feet moments later, pointing an index finger irritably in his direction, "How can I not feel rejected?" Suddenly she was glad she hadn't tried to kiss him or anything like that. The blow would have been worse. She -knew- she was a damn good kisser! Chert Sanders The cheap shot hit home, if the expression on Chert's face was any indication. His eyebrows seemed to climb a few inches up his forehead before knitting together in a deep and indignant frown. He twitched, and suddenly his very sexuality was suspect. "Maybe bat-s**t crazy just isn't a turn on!" he snarled, tugging ferociously on the shovel he'd stuck in the ground. Stupid of him to get side-tracked. Stupid of him to get pulled in again. He had other things to do. But the shovel was apparently quite content to stay where it was. Chert let out a wordless cry of frustration as he rocked the stubborn tool back and forth in an attempt to unearth it. The firm dirt underneath the layer of sand gave suddenly, nearly setting the man off-balance. He recovered with an awkward, heavy step to the side and slung the shovel over his shoulder, unmindful of the bits of soil that rained down on his shirt in the process. "Get used it," he told Antony. The bit of him that remained rational knew he'd regret those words later, but right then their bite was satisfying. He turned his back on the woman and began to stalk off towards the tree-line, although it was difficult to accomplish a proper stalk when the sand insisted upon shifting under his feet with every step.
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Posted: Fri Mar 24, 2006 9:29 am
Return
Chert Reclaims His Duplex The tall trees of the jungle seemed to stare down in shadowy disapproval at the small, two-legged creature that interrupted the nocturnal rhythmn of the wilderness with its heavy, careless footsteps. Its progress was often interrupted as it stumbled into bushes or tripped over the thick roots that rose in and out of the earth like a nest of sea serpents. High in the canopy whose tangle of leaves blocked out the moon and stars, a small animal hooted in embarassment for the foolish creature out after dark without proper eyes or ears to guide its way. Chert glanced upwards to shout something uncomplimentary at it, but at that moment he was smacked in the face by a very large, leafy frond. "Son of a b***h," he huffed, shoving the offending vegetation aside. Even Moreau's island was out to get him. There was numerous tiny cuts and scrapes lining his legs and arms from his incautious progress through the jungle, and though they didn't sting yet, they undoubtedly would later. Frustration from the fight with Antony and the near-blind battle with the malicious foliage carried Chert about a third of the way to the duplexes, but rationality caught up with him soon enough. His footsteps gradually slowed, as if weighed down by the conversation that replayed itself over and over in his mind, and finally stopped. Get used to it.Chert leaned up against a tree and cursed quietly. Had he really said that? Repeated reviews of the memory confirmed that, yeah, he definitely had... in addition to a few other idiotic things. Great. Fantastic. He was a regular prince charming, he was. Always happy to assist in making the transformation from beautiful woman to albino squirrel that much more distressing. Glad to be of service, Antony. Chert let out an angry sigh and shook his head. What the hell had happened, anyway? They'd been having a pleasant conversation- the easy trade of jokes had reminded of him of being home for just a little while- before things fell apart. Why had she reached out like that? Why'd you pull away? shot back a voice in his head, the part of the self that delights in arguing with the self. She surprised me, Chert growled. Yeah, that part where she asked for a back massage really sent you a double message, huh?They've never lead anywhere, before.That's because you're thick as a brick.All of Chert was in agreement with that. He switched the weight of the shovel to his other shoulder and began to walk again, thoughts of home mixing unpleasantly with his recent experiences on the island. Fights spawned from stupid misunderstandings hadn't exactly been uncommon back in Utah, either. If the world were fair, the sizeable Moreau-related troubles he grappled with would have replaced or at the very least diminished the old, everyday problems that came with normal human existence, but Chert decided long ago that any sentence beginning with "if the world were fair..." was useless speculation. It wasn't. Even when Chert began growing whiskers and that revolting scaly tail and whatever the hell else Moreau had decided upon, he'd still be unable to bridge that gaping chasm between his thoughts and the thoughts of others. But invading armies had difficulties attacking territories in the absence of bridges, didn't they? He was better off that way, right? Of course. Chert still felt like an a** as he trudged through the dark with nothing but the unfamiliar sounds of an unfamiliar jungle to keep him company. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ An indeterminable amount of time later, the lights of the town came into view, seeming to flicker unsteadily when filtered through the leaves and branches of the jungle. They were a little farther to the left than Chert had been expecting, but it was difficult to get totally lost from that point on the beach even in the night. The mountains and a stream buffered the swathe of wilderness leading back to the duplexes- if you encountered either one, you'd gone too far to the left or right. And if you encountered a beach again, well... that's happened if you wandered around in the dark without a sense of direction or a compass. The florescent lights shone like a galaxy of small suns after the inky shadows of the jungle. Chert blinked at them owishly, feeling the bite of the bright orbs in his eyes. Normally, the sight of civilization would have been comforting, but right then it only formed a knot in the pit of the man's stomach. He hesitated a moment to stare at the imposing, blue-gray faces of the buildings before heading back into the jungle. At first glance, it would have appeared that he'd lost his nerve, but as soon as he'd found a secluded place where there seemed little chance of human(ish) traffic, he drove his shovel into the ground. The earth of the jungle was soft, though lined with a hopless tangle of thick roots that made digging a slow and demanding task. Chert's muscles had begun to protest before the first hole was even halfway finished. They hadn't had a proper meal or a good night's rest for a few days, and weren't pleased to putting up with the additional abuse. But the more he dug, the more the scope of his attention narrowed, until the burn in his arms were merely a peripheral interference- no more troubling than a moth circling overhead. There'd been a lot of time to plan, and it was surprisingly easy to allow himself fall into the motions he'd reviewed over and over again. Soon, there were three pits of decreasing sizes in the ground. Chert observed them with a critical eye, glanced around cautiously, and headed back to the duplexes. The shovel came with him. He was careful to stick to the shadows in order to avoid the notice of any curious islanders. Explaining what he was doing out and about in dark with a shovel coated in fresh dirt was not something he wanted to try in his current state. There were a ridiculous number of stairs that led up to his duplex. Each step he took, he was irrationally convinced that the person living below him would burst outside and demand to know just what it was Chert was doing. His neighbor stayed silent, however, and finally Chert found himself standing in front of his own doorway. The windows were dark, gaping like wide, hungry mouths in the side of the building. He locked the doorknob in a vise-like grip that failed to completely prevent the muscles in his hand from trembling. Steady, keep steady. Turning back was not an option. The door swung open with a faint whisper as its bottom brushed the carpet. Chert leaned into the black room, but even without the light the presence of the creatures was immediately apparent. He could still smell them. The scent was stronger, if anything- a musky animal stink mixed with a strong undercurrent of sickly sweet decay. Chert's neck seized up, and for a moment he thought he might be in for a repeat of the first night he'd discovered the experiments. After a moment of struggle against his rebellious stomach, however, the surge of nausea subsided and he was able to reach over and turn on the light. His pupils constricted painfully to mere pin-points in response to the sudden brightness, but the period of blindness didn't last long... ...which was a shame. The failed experiments weren't any less horrifying the second time around. If Chert's eyeballs could have crawled away to hide under a rock, they probably would have. Unfortuntely, they were firmly installed in his head, stuck with the task of relaying the grotesque visual information to the brain (which was about as happy to recieve the information as the eyes were to transmit it). Chert's breath came in short, ragged gasps. Stick to the plan, stick to the plan, sticktotheplansticktotheplan... Inside the cage closest to the door, the ex-chimpanzee raised its head weakly and glanced upwards. Its eyes were large and liquid and black, like two dark, glassy lakes. There seemed to be no judging the depth of the misery they contained, and when they fell on Chert he felt as if he might be swallowed completely by their desolation. There was no forgetting the revulsion he felt- it seemed rooted in his very bones- but beneath that a wave of guilt rushed forward. He'd taken so long to get here. Much too long. A muscle jumped convulsively in his jaw. "I'm sorry," he whispered, but the words felt weak as he spoke them. Useless sounds. The only thing of worth he could give to the pitiful animal were his actions. Chert's fist tightened on the shovel until his knuckles were white. It wouldn't be neat, but it would be quick. Painless. He opened the first cage. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The birdrat and the cat-lizard had been wrapped in the towels Chert had taken from the bathroom. He'd used his sheets for the chimp. None of the bodies were terribly heavy, and he was able to carry them to the jungle graves without much trouble. The holes were filled in, patted down meticulously, and covered with a layer of vegetation and debris. To the casual observer, there would be nothing of interest to catch one's eye. The cages were stacked neatly behind the duplexes. Somewhere between opening the cage and filling in the last shovel-full of dirt, Chert's brain had simply... shut down. He felt nothing as he retrieved the cleaning supplies from the town hall and scrubbed the floors and walls of his room until his hands were red and tender to the touch. His face was blank as he stood under the scalding shower, scouring every inch of himself with a detatched, mindless determination. He didn't flinch even when his razor left a sizeable nick on the side of his jaw. And finally, when he had done all he could to erase the existence of the nightmare from the face of the earth, he locked the bathroom door and sank to the floor in the far corner of the room. There was still a faint itch in the back of his mind that told him he hadn't been completely successful in eradicating all of the traces, but he could do nothing about it- part of that hell was encoded into his very genes. And try as he might, he couldn't scrub away that.
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Posted: Wed Mar 29, 2006 8:47 pm
Help Me, Sammich
"Please Don't Eat My Face" Zachary Bloodstone As soon as his feet had stopped hurting him, Zach had left the forest for the village. What he'd almost done to Avery had scared him, and after a quiet battle of wills he realized he may be safer if he or his random biting urge weren't so hungry. The cafeteria was deserted. He breathed a sigh of relief and took a step inside, only to discover his clawlike toenails made a telltale clicking sound on the floor. He stopped, closed his eyes, counted to ten, and then slipped the rest of the way in, ignoring the noise he made. His scaly red tail curled close in anxiety. Again, no one was there. He could do this. Just grab something to eat, scarf it down, and leave without being seen. Maybe no one would believe Avery if he said Zach changed. But it was more likely they would... He took a tray and a plate. Absently he started to take a steak, but stopped himself. No, he wasn't going to eat meat. He'd have a salad. He was a human, not a... a dragon. Not that the word really helped to explain anything. He piled a colorful arrangement of lettuce and vegetables on his plate instead, and sat down at a table in the middle of the room. Chert Sanders After that night at his duplex Chert had resumed his aimless wandering, but he hadn't strayed far from the village. In fact, he'd made it a point to return everday at dusk despite the fact that he found it nearly impossible to sleep the whole way through the night in that room. The weak remnants of the scent of misery and decay refused to dissipate completely, haunting his dreams and coloring his thoughts with unpleasant images. But he stayed, because to do otherwise would be to concede victory to Aubrey. That day, his feet had happened taken him to the cafeteria- or perhaps he'd been following his stomach. It growled impatiently, eager for a substantial meal. Chert had been eating about as well as he'd been sleeping. The scents that hung in the air of the building were positively heavenly, but he restrained his eagerness and entered cautiously, still wary of the "excitement" that had occured several nights ago. Luckily, there seemed to be no knife-wielding druggies present at the moment, although he was dismayed to find that there was already another islander making use of the salad bar. But though he was reluctant to talk to anyone, his stomach would tolerate no hesitation. Food. Now! Jesus, alright. Alright! Chert grumbled at the needy organ. He entered the cafeteria, trying to not stare at the outlandish pair of horns that graced the stranger's head (the attempt was only marginally successful). What kind of reptile was decorated like that? Or had they tinkered with his serum in the same way they had Antony's? Zachary Bloodstone No sooner had Zach put his tray down did he hear someone else in the room. He froze up quickly. Was it someone he knew? Hopefully not. He debated turning around, but he was afraid to. He'd changed so much, he hadn't even been recognizable to Avery at first. It was like Cassidy had said about looking in mirrors... Caught still standing, he was stuck. After holding his head up a little more - it took more effort to hold it level thanks to the horns - he took a quick glance over his shoulder to survey the other man in the cafeteria. It was a guy, but not anyone he'd ever met. They didn't look changed, at least from what he saw. There was brief eye contact. The other man was staring back at him. More specifically, they'd been staring at his horns. He went a little red in the face and turned away. He had a few choice words for Sabin now, but he was too weak to ever say them the doctor aloud. He sat down, his tail bumping against the leg of his chair and causing a grunt of pain. He found his voice, addressing the other man in the room without looking at him. "Please don't... don't look at me like that." Chert Sanders The request caused Chert to wince internally, but his expression didn't vary from its habitual frown of guarded cynicism. He muttered something incomprehensible, annoyed at being caught staring. As much as he'd promised himself that he'd act nonchalant when he met another subject, it was difficult to remain unruffled when faced with a living example of the island's reality. Sure, he'd seen Colche and Awen already, but at that point and time he'd been a little too preoccupied to view the transformations as anything beyond disturbing and macabre anomalies. Now he had time to properly appreciate the situation. Wonderful. Chert gathered up a ham sandwich, potato chips, coleslaw, and sat down a reasonable distance from the lizard man. The stranger's teeth looked unfriendly in every sense of the word- definitely designed for the efficient dispatch of prey animals- but his plate was heaped with greenery. Someone was in denial. Chert couldn't help but raise an ironic eyebrow at the sight. Zachary Bloodstone Zach tried to disappear further into his seat. Who was this guy? He hadn't looked like he had never seen a changed islander before. The scrutinizing glance he'd recieved from the other man looked more like curiosity. Zach looked down at his salad some more, thinking guiltily about how he'd seen the other islanders. He picked up his fork and speared several greens. Who was he kidding? He still thought they were all freaks. He was just a freak, too. He was about to take a bite when he saw the newcomer looking at him out of the corner of his eye. He closed his mouth a little bit, the sharp canines still poking through, and lowered the fork a little. His yellow eyes looked half-closed in annoyance. With the fork, he gestured loosely at his plate. "This is called a 'salad'. But... that's not what you were looking at, huh?" Chert Sanders Chert hadn't expected his expression to be noticed, but he met the stranger's golden eyes squarely and gave him a lop-sided grin. "You're a peculiar brand of a*****e, I'll admit." Though his voice was tinged with irritation, it wasn't entirely unfriendly, inhabiting that gray area between insult and playful jab. Zachary Bloodstone "I'm flattered," Zach said flatly. He shook his head and turned back to his meal. He automatically didn't like this guy, fitting him in with the general apprehension he was having for dangerous-looking islanders. He wasn't about to forget his experience with Billy, the tentacled man who'd gone crazy on him in this same room. The toying tone, the expression, both were good reminders. All he needed now was to be punched in the jaw again and the illusion would be complete. He took his first bite of salad, managing to get it down without gagging. His animal half became annoyed that it wasn't meat. He took another bite anyhow, still working to prove these odd instincts wrong, that they weren't real. He couldn't deny he was a scaly monster, but he wasn't messed up in the head as well. He wasn't about to have a third bite, though, if he was going to feel disgusted eating something as familiar as lettuce. He tried to take his mind off of his confusion by speaking to the newcomer. Unlike the last time, he wouldn't be defenseless in a fight. "You look pretty new... how long have you been here?" Chert Sanders Zach was obviously not amused, which meant that Chert definitely was. The tendency to rag on people a little during a first encounter was deeply ingrained in the stocky man; the inclination was partially due to simple curiosity at what might happen if he verbally prodded someone (much like a kid's need to poke at anything interesting with a stick), and partially due to the fact that it quickly identified the people who could tolerate Chert's questionable brand of humor and those who couldn't. Zach seemed to belong to the larger of the two groups (the latter). Normally, the chill in the lizard man's tone would have rankled enough to provoke less playful harassment, but the fight with Antony was still fresh in Chert's mind. He decided to simply shut his mouth for once. It didn't seem like the other man felt much like talking. After a few moments of quiet, however, the stranger spoke up again. Chert looked up from his sandwich and snorted. "Too long." Zachary Bloodstone "It can feel like that..." Zach looked the guy over once more. He was human. Totally, undeniably human. He felt envious. He tapped his claws on the table a couple of times. He tried reaffirming he wasn't alone in having been tricked. "Did they sell you a lie to bring you here?" Chert Sanders The tapping diverted Chert's attention from Zach's reptilian features to the man's arm for the first time, and he realized belatedly that it seemed to be lacking a parter. Apparently, Moreau was an equal-opportunity victimizer. How admirably PC. The scientist was truly a man of the twenty-first century. "Of course not," Chert drawled sarcastically, annoyed at what he saw as a question with only one obvious answer. "They offered to turn me into a ******** rat, and naturally I jumped at the opportunity." Zachary Bloodstone He noticed the sarcasm and didn't take kindly to it. His odd bloodlust rose a little bit, since he still hadn't appeased his carnivorous urges at all. And with the stress of the transformation and nearly biting Avery's face off, he wasn't going to roll over and take Chert's unfriendly attitude. It was a good opportunity for him to get his anger out. He'd had a lot of it bottled up in the past few weeks, since he'd been wary of pissing off anyone with large teeth and claws. Zach bared his own teeth at the other man. "It was just a question. What's your problem?" Chert Sanders Having yet to suffer any sort of change, Chert was largely unaware of the strange instincts that came along with the physical transformations. The ferocity of Zach's expression took him by surprise. It was, well... not the type of face he expected another human being to make, and the savage effect was only magnified by the large, dagger-like canines in Zach's mouth. "What do you think my problem is?" he asked. He hadn't raised past its initial volume, but it still retained that strange mix of amusement and displeasure. "I'm hopelessly stranded on a strange island with a mad scientist who's decided to reenact what sounds like a plot from a bad b-movie horror flick, and every night I go to bed with the knowledge that tomorrow I might wake up substantially furrier than the day before." As he was talking, Chert took the opportunity to casually scoot back in his chair so that he could stand up more easily, if need be. Billy's earlier attack had made him a little paranoid, and the look Zach gave him was worrying. "Aren't you upset?" Zachary Bloodstone "Hopelessly stranded?" Zach smirked at the other man. That story was all too familiar to him. He'd only started itno the next chapter the previous night. However, Zach wouldn't be nice if the other man wouldn't. While he was reminded of his horns a lot by their weight, he wasn't used to his new appearance and didn't realize how frightening it could be. "It's not hopeless until you look in the mirror and you don't know what the hell you are any more. Anyway, you're not a rat yet. Try to escape. Try to get out of here. Maybe you will." He reached for his fork again but stopped at the other question the newcomer posed to him. He pondered it while staring the man down again with his yellow eyes. Yes, of course he was upset. But he'd been defeated in the most miserable way, his humanity taken by a psychopath. The extent of his changing hadn't quite sunk in, leaving him still rather numb to just how little he was looking or even sounding like himself. He spoke quietly. "Yes... or at least, I was when it happened. I'm not even sure if it's worth being upset right now. It's not going to get rid of these horns... or this tail..." Chert Sanders The thought of escape was what kept Chert roaming about the island (getting away was a lot easier if you were familiar with your surroudings, after all), but matters were a lot more complicated than just "trying to escape." Like he'd still be here if it were that simple! Chert gave a wordless growl of frustration. "It's a little hard to make a proper attempt when the staff can drop you with a word." A nerve twinged unhappily in his back as he thought of that day he'd confronted Aubrey. If only he had some way of disabling whatever the hell it was they'd put in his neck, or finding out the range of its effectiveness, or escaping the cameras long enough to something useful... Not to mention, there was the matter of the flu-like illness that Antony had mentioned that affected those who went too long without an injection. Probably fatal, or at least debilitating enough to prevent a stressful ocean escape. He tried not to think about the comment about the mirror. It was a chilling thought. "You're just going to lie down and take it, then? Everything's fine and dandy?" There was unveiled contempt in Chert's tone. He couldn't imagine remaining passive, even if rage was a waste of energy. Maybe you bloodied yourself needlessly against the wall in your way, and maybe the wall gave. It was impossible to know unless you kept trying. Zachary Bloodstone Zach looked down, still a little mystified by the thought of that. He'd heard several people mention the 'magic word' command, but he hadn't seen it happen to anyone. Thus it hadn't crossed his mind. That did make for a bigger obstacle than the cameras. "Oh..." There wasn't a lot he could say to that. He frowned at the other man's biting questions. The shock of the change was wearing off... He examined himself mentally. He was a freak. Ten seconds and a piece of lettuce later, he wanted a second opinion. Well, he was still a freak, but with one less arm than all the other freaks had. With a sound between a growl and a whine he leaned down and put his forehead against the table. "Oh, ******** this. What am I supposed to do? I've got scales! And these damn horns, and a tail, and apparently I'm not even through yet. I'm some kind of... monster or something now. But even before that, I've had one arm! I can't even clap... or swim... or a lot of things. It drives me crazy... it drove me crazy when it happened and it still does and I'm probably never going to get over it. I hate what they've done to me. I want to be human again. God, If I go pissing those doctors off here they'll probably just take the other one. They're crazy." His eyes were getting red and itchy from crying as he ranted. He'd waited years and years to say he wasn't content with one arm, he was too scared to admit it before. He was so stressed, and tense, and this man was getting on his nerves so much he had to say it. He'd be lying to himself if he thought it was all going to be okay this way. Chert Sanders The emotional torrent of words stunned Chert into silence. He simply sat and stared in a mixture of horror and astonishment as Zach vented his supressed frustration and unhappiness into the air of the cafeteria. Hell's bells! Were those tears? The lizard man was actually crying. In public. Embarassment at the wretched display seized Chert's chest and caused him to quickly avert his eyes, visibly thrown off-balance for the first time that day. "Lunatics," he agreed distantly, staring fixedly at the half-eaten sandwich on his plate. Yes, the ham was interesting. Maybe he'd just examine it for a little while, appreciate the visual intricacies of the meat. Zachary Bloodstone "S-sorry... just ignore me..." Zach stared dejectedly at the floor and his clawed toes. He closed his yellow eyes and tried to think of something else. Like why there had to be so much surveillance, all the time. However, being constantly watched was making him nervous too. He lifted his horned head a bit and pounded a fist against the table in frustration. The other man had become quiet other than an echoed sentiment, so he looked at him. He looked uncomfortable. That same want for hunting that he'd been in confusion over all that morning had returned to him. It had a plan and a purpose - it wanted to kill. Albeit it wasn't strong enough to force Zach to do anything truly outrageous, but at the moment he was feeling upset and hollow. The predator could have picked no better time to to stir. For a moment Chert didn't look like a person, but a careless creature just sitting out in the open. Perfect prey. Zach stared rather blankly at the other man, who seemed unaware. One well-placed bite in the skull... he clicked his large canines together. It would be so simple. He ignored the salad in front of him. Why finish it? the dangerous side of him thought. There was something else in the room that would be much more fun to make a meal of. Chert Sanders Chert made a vaguely positive, incomprehensible sound- That's what I'm trying to do- and continued to examine his sandwich. At least, until Zach pounded the table. The unexpected noise brought Chert's head snapping around to focus on the source, and he found himself staring directly into the bright yellow eyes of the stranger. Something in Zach's expression seemed, off. Gone was the distress and dismay, but it was difficult to say what had replaced them. A frown crept across Chert's face as he tried to decipher the strange look. "What?" he demanded irritably, feeling out of sorts after the last surprising and unwelcome turn in the conversation. At least the tears had stopped. Zachary Bloodstone Zach didn't look that aware of Chert watching him, and the odd expression didn't go away. The growing of so much new bone and muscle had taken a lot out of him, which had driven his hunger far further in this one day than it would have otherwise been. As much as the salad was meant to be a statement, it had been a very bad choice. He was in such a confused state thanks to the craving for meat that it was rather blurred where his thoughts stopped and the predator's started. He gave the other man a grin that exposed the sharp tips of all his newly changed teeth. Would he run? He'd give chase if he had to. His tail was no longer curled but swished from side to side. Chert Sanders The lashing of Zach's tail helped the memory that had been tugging at the back of Chert's mind to click into place. Once, he'd dated a woman who was in love with a little sleek, gray tabby cat. On occasion, when he wasn't desperately trying to prevent it from weaving between his legs on the stairs, he'd sit and watch it stalk the dust motes that swam in the sun beams. During those times, its eyes had been glazed over in predatory anticipation and its tail had lashed eagerly at the air. Somehow, Zach didn't look so different. Chert slowly got his feet, his eyes locked onto Zach all the while. Don't break eye contact, no sudden movements, stand up straight, swear off all humanoid contact if you survive this goddamn Moreau I'll kill you you ******** b*****d why did I get out of bed today?He spoke from between his teeth as one hand groped around on the table for something- anything- to help. "Snap out it, scaly." His fingers encountered something cool and slick, and latched onto the item firmly. It was a... deadly fork. Great. He was going to fend off an angry lizard man with a fork. Hope it's a sharp one, Chert thought grimly, taking his eyes off of Zach for a heartbeat to glance towards the door. Could he make it if the stranger decided to pounce? This really wasn't how he'd been hoping to end his day. Colche "I can show you the world" the voice echoed as the door opened to the cafeteria, it was a sweet voice, gentle in it's way if somewhat childish, the song was broken by several pauses and came to a very abrupt stop when the Cheetah girl stepped in tot he Cafeteria and saw the two men. Sweet blue eyes fell on the two men and ehr tongue lapped out to lick at her furry lips in a nervous manner. Her tail twitched, the very tip lashing back and forth until finally she stepped in to the cafeteria continuing her song "A hundred thousand.." at every pause she glanced at the two men, she was trying to be brave, she had claws remember? She had teeth and she was a dangerous..uhm...okay she was scared and knew it. She paused half way towards the food counter, her belly rumbled in a resounding manner urging her to go on but the little girl inside her told ehr to run, taking a deep breath she held the air and padded still further towards the two men, they were between her and breakfast and she wasn't happy about having to walk past them or face them, she was still feeling a little delecate though the bruises on her flesh were still visable they were starting to fade. She couldn't be scared of men, they wouldn't hurt her, Aubrey was watching, Aubrey was watching and she had claws.... Zachary Bloodstone Zach's tail stopped when the man made the sudden move to grab a fork. What was he doing? That little piece of metal wouldn't protect him. He rose out of his seat slowly as well, though balance was a lot more difficult than he had planned. His toes were uncooperative, he wouldn't be able to run as fast as he thought he could. He arched his back a little bit instead. His attention wavered at the sound of singing. Someone else had come into the room. A rather furry girl - he recognized her as Colche vaguely. She looked like something he could catch easily. She was coming right towards them. All his attention on Chert and the fork had dissipated. His clawed hand was itching to strike. His yellow eyes followed her movements. Any moment now... Chert Sanders It took a moment for the incongruous sound of children's song to penetrate the cloud of adrenaline surrounding Chert's brain. He followed the direction of Zach's golden gaze and was appalled to find the feline girl he'd met his first day on the island wandering right past the tense face-off towards the food bar. The reptile looked interested in the unwary prey. Very interested. Chert wanted to shout, What the hell are you doing?! Get away!, but all that escaped his lips was an angry-sounding "Get!" as he let the fork fall to the floor and snatched up the plate with the sandwich on it. He doubted he could reach Colche in time, but maybe he could buy her a few seconds to escape with a distraction. The dinnerware was the heaviest thing within reach. As Chert hollered the warning, he chucked the plate straight at Zach's head with all of the force he could muster. It sliced through the air like a large, food-laden throwing star- ...only considerably less deadly. Maybe it would distract Zach from his current goal. Colche Colche was a little bemused to say the least, everything happened so quickly, first Zach turned to her with a hungry look. She had stopped that instant, her tail tip still twitching as the cheetah replied with a wide mouthed fangy hiss. Some where the cheetah inside her said, I'm a predator too and i'm hungry before I make you breakfast, but Colche just didn't listen. She l;ooked around frantically taking a step backwards "Bad" she answered in reply to the glare though her attention was soon taken to Chert. 'Get' She would but the door was some way behind her now, her ears flattened to her head, run, run, run, but still she stayed stock still watching as the plate took aim for Zachs head. She knew she could outrun zach, she was fast, fast as greewsed lightning but she was mesmerised and stayed still though a cattish growl echoed fom her chest, she had claws she could fight, the door did look awfully tempting though, she took another step back, all she had to do was turn and she could run, noone could catch her if she ran. Zachary Bloodstone Zach bared his teeth a little more toward Colche. God, was he hungry. She'd make a good meal. He advanced toward her frozen form, ready make a killing blow. Chert's aim had been pretty good, but not superb. The heavy ceramic plate hit Zach in the upper arm, jarring him from his prepapations to pounce. It hurt, yes, and it infuriated him. But the brand-new scales Zach had grown along the side of his arm had served their purpose and deflected most of the plate. It bounced away and crashed against the floor nearby. Zach let out a hiss. He was tired of this. He wanted his prey, and he wanted it now. He wasn't going to wait much longer, the hunger was driving him insane. He gave a quick look to Colche, then whirled around and made a leap onto the table and quickly off to the other side of it. He stood on his odd feet and took a step closer to the other man. Being hit with a plate wasn't going to keep him from his goddamn dinner. There'd be nothing but bones left behind once he got done with this man. He lunged at the man, just like he had at Avery. Snap! But again, something stopped him from sinking his teeth into anything but air. Chert Sanders Chert was startled to find Zach's impressive canines close to his face- a little too close for comfort. Too close for anything, in fact, but a torrent of tension, fear, and anger that howled through his veins and made coherent thought a distant, untouchable concept. Bits of him begged to run away, bits of him seemed determined to stand their ground and fight, and a few even suggested just closing his eyes and trying to mark off the whole ordeal as a bad dream. But somehow, he wasn't dead. A small bit of information finally worked its way through the chaos and disorder in his brain- the sensation of a bony, unfamiliar texture in the palms of his hands. Chert realized that he currently hand both of Zach's large, impressive horns captured in his grip. As this meant that the rest of Zach was not currently too far away, it was not an entirely comforting realization, but he was glad to know that he could count on his body to take care of things when the rest of him went to pieces. Chert grimaced at the lizard man and held on for dear life. There didn't seem to be many other options available. Colche Colche's tail lashed one more time, her ears flattening as she saw what happened, the other guy had caught the scary guy by the horns. She was a little confused right now and names escaped her. The door looked ever so enticing but she didn't run away fromt he chaos, instead she leapt towards it. The first thing in view of her, slightly manic attack was Zachs tail. It wriggled so enticingly. Without a second though she pounced the guy digging ehr fangs deep in to his stubby tail and clinging to his hips with her claws. She had never attacked anyone before. She knew that Chert was trying to protect her though and realised, silently, that she could help protect him, she had claws and she could bite! Zachary Bloodstone Zach tried to lean in again, snapping at Chert's face in what he hoped was a deadly bite. However, the two hands of his that were wrapped around his new horns were keeping him at bay. Not only that, but it hurt! The horns had just grown the night before, and yanking them around was giving him a headache. He made a wordless sound of pain and stopped to consider his options. First, he had to get out of this grip. Second, he had to- He howled inhumanly when he felt teeth sink into yet another extremely sore spot, his tail. These new additions had barely grown in, they were still sensitive, and while he was prepared to ignore the claws in his hips, he had to dislodge the cat-girl's fangs. He struggled in Chert's grip, his red tail thrashing wildly. He reached out his own hand and tried to scratch his claws into the man's left hand. Chubbs MacKraken Chubbs shuffled somewhat sadly towards the cafeteria, he was very hurt, cut to the bone, he felt like he'd been stabbed in the heart. He was going to stuff his face with something sugary, something to use to forget and just enjoy, like cake. His ears perked when he heard loud noises and a crash coming from the cafeteria, making him jog a bit faster to see what was up. And there he saw what looked like a fight, a frenzy. Two guys he didn't know, one freaked out the ying yang and Colche mauling the guys tail. Chubbs flung the door open and raced in, it had to stop, then it struck him, was this the b*****d Billy that went after Colche? It was like a switch, like Chubbs had split personality, if he'd been the hulk he'd been turning green. Instead he had a raging beast and Chubbs was willing to use it. He couldn't be there all the time for everyone, he wasn't god, but right now Colche needed him, and the guy holding the jerk by the horns. Chubbs charged, even with the two on him already, Chubbs wasn't going to let up. Just as the freak took a swipe, Chubbs latched his hand over the wrist of the freak boy and twisted it in a way it shouldn't be twisted. With his free hand, calws and all wrapped around the jerk's neck and lifted him into the air. To Chubbs it felt like lifting a child. Chubbs pulled freako's face to look at his own and he let him see the beast in his eyes and made sure he remembered it. Baring his teeth Chubbs let out a deafening roar right into the guys face, sending spittle flying. With wrath in mind, Chubbs went to send the guy sailing, but suddenly it started to grow dark, and he felt the cold surface of the floor on his back. Chert Sanders Chert had just sent a brief look of gratitude to Colche when the door burst open... And he wasn't exactly sure what happened after that. Something mountainous barreled into the room- it was large, dark, and positively furious- and yanked Zach into the air as if he were made of balsa wood. Chert barely had time to release the horns he'd been clinging to desperately, falling backwards as a defeaning roar assaulted his ears. "********!" he yelped. Although it seemed the word best-suited to his state of mind, it didn't come close to expressing the tumultuous mixture of confusion, terror, and fury the whole incident inspired. All of them, he thought dazedly. All of us, lunatics. The whole island. Colche As the door was flung open, Colche's fangs had slowly released Zachs tail, it was Chubbs! Chubbs would save them. Though it wasn't what the slender femme expected. Fear crawled on to the cheetah girls face and she pounced Chert hiding her big blue eyes in his chest. Her ears tightened against her head, her body trembled. She had never been frightened of Chubbs, but such an act, of terrible strength had jolted her back to the reality that not everything was black and white, not everything was good and bad. She kept her face buried deep in Cherts chest until she heard the thud and thump of a body hitting the ground. It was Chubbs. Her ears flattened her eyes going wide once again as she searched for Zach. She doubted she would be able to get a hold on him again. The fur on the back of her neck lifted on end, making her look decidedly fuzzier than usual. She panted once, a fear responce as she looked to Chert and trembled, he wouldn't hurt her would he? Chubbs was down, but was zach still wanting to make them in to breakfast? Zachary Bloodstone Zach was going from one horrible pain to another in his fight for a freshly killed meal. He felt the man's grip loosen on his horns, and at the same time Colche had let go of his tail and sides. The predator was satisfied with that. He started to turn toward Colche, unaware of the far more dangerous individual who charged him. Zach felt a tight grip on his throat and his feet lost their connection with the floor. He couldn't breathe! A darkly furred face looked at him for a moment, no one he had ever seen before, and the deafening roar would have been terrifying. Just like that, the beastly beast was sinking to the ground, and its stranglehold on Zach's windpipe was broken. Zach tried to stand back up but stumbled on his odd feet, coughing. He eyed Chert and Colche with a look that was even more desperate than in the beginning. He was wounded. All he came here for was a meal, and he was going to get it. He made another loud cough, straightened up a bit, and opened his mouth wide as he aimed to sink his teeth into one of the two. They couldn't get away from the predator this time. His eyes went wide in mid-lunge. A sharp shock hit him squarely in the back of the neck, just in time. The yellow eyes rolled back and his killing momentum was lost. He crashed to the floor in front of the two, as unconscious as Chubbs was. Not even his tail moved, a sure sign he wasn't going to leap up again and finish the job. Chert Sanders The sudden warm presence against Chert's chest elicited a feeling of dismay in the man. He felt ill-equipped to the play the role of protector, especially in a situation where strange and ferocious creatures seemed to be crawling out of the woodwork, but at the moment he was still too stunned to deny Colche's silent request. Chert wrapped his arms around her automatically, every muscle rigid with unease. It was then that he realized Zach hadn't gone down with the larger predator. He was reminded of one of those old horror movies where the monster kept trudging lumbering forward no matter how many times you shot it in the head or stabbed it in the chest or drowned it in the lake. Zach rose to his feet. His ankles tensed for the deadly leap. Some buried instinct flickered to life in Chert's head as the lizard flew into the air. He quickly swiveled around so that his body was inbetween Colche and the pouncing dragon, expecting to feel the sharp claws of the other man sinking into the flesh between his shoulders at any moment. But instead, there was a thump. Chert blinked slowly and glanced behind him. Was it possible he was that lucky? A single look said that, against all expectations, it was. He stared down at Zach's immoble body and fought down a sudden, violent urge to kick it squarely in the side. Colche Colche looked up at Chert, even with her toe tipped stance she was shorter than the guy. Her ears flattened she felt safe, of course she had clung tighter to him when Zach had come hurtling through the air only to drop with a very loud crack to the ground. She trembled in his arms, finally peering around to look at the two unconcious predators. What would happen to them? She wasn't exactly sure. Looking up at chert she looked for advice from the guy. She was still hungry, but her fear had driven away most of the emptyness she felt in her gut. "frightened" she whispered trmbling in his arms, what if they woke up and came at them again? Chubbs wasn't there to hurt them, she knew taht but zach had almost..well had he..she didn't want to be breakfast to him. Chert Sanders A small voice reminded Chert of Colche's presence. He blinked down at her in alarm, wanting nothing more than to disentagle himself from the awkward position. This was not anywhere near his realm of expertise. Chert did not do 'comforting.' He did not do 'reassuring.' What he did do well was 'go back to his duplex and freak the ******** out after nearly being mauled by a red, scaly b*****d,' but her questioning blue gaze held him in place for a moment. "It's alright," he answered, his voice gruff with strain. "They're both unconscious." Having never met Chubbs before, he assumed the roaring beast was yet another dangerous islander. Colche Colches fluffy ears twitched a bit as she looked down "scary" she stated again, still holding on to Chert though her grip was loosening slowly. Swallowing loudly she lifted her head and stood on her very tippy toes touching the mans cheek with her nose "thankyou" she smiled, it was a sweet innocent smile of somone not quite sure exactly what just happened but pretty sure taht it would all be alright. More to the point that Chert had sheilded her from the scary..well scaley red person. Was that Zach? She faintly remembered the name btu he had seeme so, nervous last time she had seen him."home Chert" she stated after a moment mores silence, she wanted to go and snuggle down where she was safe though she obviously thought it best that chert come with her. What if zach woke up? Chubbs wouldn't hurt her but she was pretty sure when people got knocked out the people in white came and took them away, she wasn't sure if she wanted to be around when that happened either. Chert Sanders Chert tried not to sigh in relief when he began loosening her grip so that he was able to take a step backward. Before he could, though, she caught him with her odd nose-kiss. He twitched away slightly, giving her thanks a soft grunt of what could have been acknowledgement or dismissal. Chert still had adrenaline doing a lively jive up and down his nerves, and the knowledge of how useless he'd been rankled. Most of the situations in his life he'd been able to handle with force after speech failed, but this... If the bear-like man hadn't entered for whatever reason he did, Chert was unsure of how the struggle with Zach would have turned out. He suspected, though, that it probably would have involved lots and lots of little crumb-sized Chert-bits all over the floor. "Home Chert," could have been a question or a demand (he wasn't yet versed in Colche's way of speech), but it sounded good either way. As long as they were anywhere but in the duplex. He could care less what happened to the bodies of the two predators. Moreau or his subordinates would take care of it. Chert began to make for the door, casting one last ruffled glance over his shoulder at the mess they'd left behind. He'd never gotten to finish his sandwich. Colche Colche smiled, she gave a puurr no realy understanding the grunt and taking it as an aggreement as they went towards the door. She hooked his shirt sleeve with her fingers and held on to it looking back to double check that Chubbs was okay. She frowned a little, Chubbs had been scary, but he wasn't usually. Licking her lips in a nervous manner she turned her attention to walking. "number seventeen chert" she stated as they left the cafeteria and she smiled softly, her blue eyes fixed upon the tough guy. To her, he had still gone to protect her from Zach, even if he had been knocked out before he could do anything. Colche desperately tried to link him to one of her story book or cartoon chracters, finally she came on one and giggled a little before tugging his sleeve "Chart brave, jus' like robin hood" she grinned, robin hood was brave and dodged arrows and everything, chert was definately like robin hood. Chert Sanders The tugging at his shirt caused Chert to look down, and he realized that Colche was attached to his arm. Apparently, she wasn't done with him yet. Maybe "home Chert" was more of a "Take me home, Chert" than a "Go home, Chert." He supposed that made sense. Several days of wandering had gotten him well-acquainted with the layout of the duplexes, and he was fairly sure that he knew where number seventeen was. If that's what she meant. A more purposeful tugging brought his attention down yet again. By this time he was feeling a little desperate, like a man that he been dropped in the middle of a desert and told to prepare the way for the penguins. Colche might have looked much older than a child, but her innocence reminded Chert very much of one- and he was terrible with children! He didn't have the necessary tools to deal with them. Deserts, penguins. Children, Chert. Not good combinations. Colche's next observation, which caused him acute embarassment, only served to reinforce his convictions. "I can't be like Robin Hood," he pointed out. "Robin Hood wears tights. We're from two different worlds." Colche Colche gave a little giggle looking at Chert she smiled in that ever so sweet and innocent manner, her blue eyes twinkling like stars as she reiterated her ideas "no need tights, Chert Hero, like robin hood" she smiled still looking up at the big man and puurring happily, her puurr came from her chest, she had no need to roll her tongue or anything. She held still to his shirt cuff though she caught up tto him to walk beside him and look at him in an admireing manner. She knew chubbs had helped to, she would tell him so later but Chert had gone to save her from Zach even though he didn't haev any claws, or big teeth or anything, he was ahero in the cheetah girls eyes. Chert Sanders Chert returned Colche's pleasant smile with a small frown. He was still trying to figure out what made her tick; she seemed even further along in the changes than Zach had been, but the only predatory tendencies she'd shown had been in the near-brawl back in the cafeteria. Maybe the other man was just unstable to begin with. That didn't explain her strange innocence, though. "I'm not a hero," he told her sharply. The thought that Colche might harbor that false impression upset him for reasons he couldn't identify. Soon, the door of her duplex came into view. He rubbed his neck with one hand and gestured towards the building with the other. "Home," Chert said simply. His limbs were beginning to feel watery now that the adrenaline rush was fading. Colche Colche pouted a bit. She turned one last time to Chert and smiled brightly, a sweet innocent look in her big blue eyes "yu huh" she giggled and released his shirt sleeve running for ehr duplex with a speed unknown to normal man without a bycicle or a car. Her door slipped open and she bounded in. She wasn't about to be told that Chert wasn't robin hood, she had decded for herself that he was.
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Posted: Fri Mar 31, 2006 9:42 am
The Way of the Cactus
You Could Have Tried Flowers Chert Sanders Chert stared unhappily at the blue-gray walls of duplex number 30. He knew it was just imagination, but they seemed especially tall and foreboding when compared to the walls of the surrounding duplexes. Unwelcoming. Accusing. Normally, he'd probably avoid the place at all costs, but even after a few days the chaos in the cafeteria had his thoughts jumbled and out-of-order. With every day that passed, the island had become an increasingly hostile place to be, and he was beginning to suspect that friends were a precious commodity, indeed. And of course, he'd managed to alienate the closest thing he had to a friend within his first week on the island. Chert had a talent. What are you doing here, you idiot? he asked himself in exasperation. He wasn't actually knocking on her door, was he? Don't, don't, don't- Yes, he was! Goddamnit, it was too late to back out now. The man stood awkwardly on Antony's doorstep, one hand tucked behind his back, and wished fervently that he were somewhere else. Antoinette Devereux Antony was surprised at the knock, having been on her way out to the beach when it caught her attention. Maybe it was Jamal? She smiled to herself while she moved to open the door in naught but her bikini. Her smile soon left when she saw who was standing on her porch and her expression hardened, glare much more unnerving than usual thanks to her changed eyes. Instead of speaking, Antony raised her eyebrow expectantly in order to demand an explanation of why he was there on her doorstop. Part of her was still curious about him. Probably because they had so many overlapping mannerisms and personality faults. Chert Sanders A brief twinge of annoyanced flared up as he noticed her attire- it was almost like she planned these things- but he kept his eyes stubbornly on her face. Antony hadn't exploded yet, and maybe that was a good sign. Or maybe that just meant that the explosion would be that much worse when it did come. Such pessimisitc thoughts caused his features to collapse into a churlish frown despite his good intentions. "You have a minute?" he muttered. Antoinette Devereux Antony held her glare for a moment before sighing and nodding curtly, "A minute." It was rather hard for her to be civil, but somehow she managed. Maybe it was because he was new to the island, but whatever it was he was lucky. Opening the door up further, she stepped aside and motioned him into her duplex. It was obvious by the board propped by the door and her shoulder bag with standard beach items such as sunscreen, a towel, and a change of clothes that the tattooed woman had been on her way to the beach before Chert had come over. "What do you want?" She asked sharply, putting her hands on her hips to keep herself from hitting him incase he did come over to insult her. Chert Sanders Chert slid by her and into the room, noticing the beach gear as he did so. In this case, "a minute" seemed to be mostly literal, which further soured his mood. Half of him had already decided that this was a complete waste of time, and the sense of futility caused him a bit of aggravation. This was like trying to knit a scarf with a pair of batons. He gritted his teeth to prevent himself from responding in an equally biting tone and held out his hand. Cupped loosely in his palm so as not to crumple the wings was a tiny butterfly. Its wings were mostly black, with two splotches of white near the edges as if someone had accidentally dribbled paint on the insect. Nearer the body, an iridescent blue glittered and shone brightly. It was pretty, but it was undeniably a... bug. He didn't offer any explanation. Antoinette Devereux Antony blinked at the butterfly, lost as to why he came over here to present her a tiny little bug. Granted, it was quite a pretty little thing, but the tattooed woman was drawing a blank as to why it was in Chert's hand to begin with. After a while, the silence was beginning to irk her and she cleared her throat to break it. There were so many things to say, but none of them seemed quite right considering this seemed to be a show of good faith. That and the man was prone to being moody, and that was putting it lightly. "Do I get an explanation?" She asked, tone and expression both somewhat softer than before. Chert Sanders The silence affected Chert in a similiar manner, although most of his annoyance was born from embarassment. She didn't seem to realize that it was a gift, so he shrugged a shoulder slightly and said, "I found it. In the jungle. Thought you might like it." It seemed as if her question for an explanation might have encompassed more than just the butterfly, but he wasn't quite prepared to get into that yet. Antoinette Devereux She raised her eyebrows at his 'explanation,' but carefully took the butterfly from Chert anyways, holding it in her hand while she examined it. "It is quite beautiful," Antony murmured quietly before she returned her gaze to the man in front of her. "Considering your kind parting words the last time I saw you, I'm quite curious as to why you dropped by simply to bestow me with a ...bug." It was obvious that she wanted a further explanation. Chert Sanders Antony's acceptance of the butterfly released some of the pressure that had been bearing down on Chert. In his eyes, the butterfly gift was a little like an unspoken apology, the upside being that he didn't have to verbally admit that he'd been wrong. However, Antony's words made it clear that he wouldn't be getting off so easily. "I wasn't the one who-" he started to snap, but his jaws quickly clamped down and cut the rebuke in half. There was another pause as Chert took a breath and expelled it through his teeth in a short, sibiliant burst. His eyes were fixed somewhere a few feet behind Antony, and when he next spoke it sounded as if the words were being pried forcefully from his throat. "Maybe... a few of the things I said were... ill-advised." Antoinette Devereux She looked about ready to return the sudden snap when he cut himself off and attempted to calm himself down. He reminded her of a bull ready to charge, snorting angrily and all that jazz, and she was equally surprised when he not so willingly spewed out a sort of mangled apology. "Look at me," she stated simply when she noticed where his gaze was, "If you're going to apologize... At least say it to me and not the wall behind me." Her voice had calmed considerably and it had obviously been more than a minute. In fact, only a small part of her was getting some sadistic pleasure out of making him squirm so, and that was quite an improvement for the squirrel woman. Chert Sanders "Goddamnit, I'm trying!" Chert said, although his tone lacked most of its usual heat. Antony hadn't tried to bite his face off or electrocute him. She wasn't a hulking mountain of fur and noise and fury, and he noticed she seemed to be putting a fair amount of effort into controlling her temper (after all, she'd refrained from kicking his a** on sight). But he wasn't in the habit of admitting he was wrong, and even the vague words of apology he'd spoken had passed over his tongue like vinegar. Antony's command brought Chert's gaze reluctantly towards her face. "I'm here, aren't I?" he pointed out, sounding more like a sulky five-year-old than a grown man. Antoinette Devereux Antony set the bug on the nearest surface before returning her attention to him, tails bristling and flicking in protest of his grumpy attitude. "Is your pride worth protecting that much?" She commented absently, corners of her lips twitching upwards as she attempted to keep a smirk at bay. After all, he was emotionally acting like a cat about to be put in a bucket of water, and the mental image was too amusing. No wonder her preferred trees and animals to people, they probably got along better with him. "That you are," the tattooed woman agreed to his question, reaching out and tapping him on the nose with her index finger simply to annoy him. It was obvious by the smirk that had broken free. "Is there a reason you hate being touched?" She finally asked, face returning serious. Chert Sanders The motion elicited an irritated twitch of Chert's lips. "I don't hate being touched," he said, wondering what an earth could be so amusing. "But there's-... I'd met you twice. There were a few others things on my mind. Why the hell did you fly off the handle like that, anyway?" His tone made it obvious that he didn't consider her entirely free of blame for the argument even though he was willing to (kind of) apologize for the cheap-shot he'd taken on the beach. The woman's fit of bitterness and self-pity had been puzzling him for awhile; it was difficult for him to believe that Antony would take the startled reaction of one ornery, ill-adjusted islander so personally. Antoinette Devereux Antony frowned when he turned the tables on her, forcing her to explain her actions on the beach. She stayed silent for a while, simply staring at him as her jaw relaxed and clenched repeatedly, as if she were trying to decide what to say. "I had just recently... Changed," she said, figuring that was enough of an explanation for now. No need to mention Billy and his bearded lady comment quite yet, or ever hopefully. "That and I'm a woman," she added, giving him a pointed look that meant she was talking about that 'time of the month' or whatever men referred to it as. Not that she had been on it, but he didn't have to know that. Maybe he'd even get freaked out and steer clear of asking anymore questions about that night. Chert Sanders "So I'd noticed," he grumbled. The reference to the idiosyncracies of the female body was too subtle to penetrate his dense skull, but the surface excuse was enough. Women were a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a distressing tendency to become unexpectedly emotional at inopportune moments, as far as he was concerned. If Antony were written in ancient egyptian hieroglyphics, she probably would have been easier to read. Still, even he could figure out that his defensive reaction on the beach had come at a particularly bad time, and it would have been easy to assume that he'd acted as he had because he was disgusted rather than because he was... well, Chert. "Even if you didn't have tails, I would have reacted the same way," he offered. Antoinette Devereux She was about to retort back, but stopped when he continued speaking. So Chert wasn't disgusted with her? He was simply a dense moron, or more specifically, a man. Nodding slowly in understanding, Antony didn't seem to look much happier with the explanation. If it hadn't been the tails, then it was her. Lovely. That was much better. "So it was me you had a problem with then? If the tails weren't the problem?" The tattooed woman made sure not to sound too accusing, but a part of her ego was still bruised from this 'new' information Eh, maybe he wasn't the tattoo, piercing, and 'real' woman type. Some men seemed to adore those skinny blonde barbies more than the 'normal' figured woman. He did seem dense enough to be able to tolerate one of those type of girls. Chert Sanders "That's not what I meant!" Chert said, eyebrows raising in startlement. The curvaceous solidity of her form and the serpentine bands of color that twisted across her chest and arms were pleasing, although he wasn't about to tell her that. "I was on the beach for a reason. You distracted me, damnit." He knew the accusation wasn't exactly fair- it wasn't as if she'd forced vodka down his throat and made him give her a backrub under threat of death- but the direction of inquiry was moving onto very shaky ground, indeed. Antoinette Devereux "You were distracted by me?" She asked, cocking an eyebrow as a smirk returned to her lips. An explanation for this question was not given, but she simply waggled her eyebrows a bit playfully. Lazily, one of her hands moved down to her stomach to scratch an itch of sorts, and she suddenly remembered why she was in a swimsuit. Inwardly, she wondered if he swam much. Chert Sanders "Against my better judgement." His eyes had traveled back to the far wall as soon as her hand had moved. Maybe it had been a bad idea, stepping into her duplex like that. The teasing expression on her face made him shift his weight from foot-to-foot awkwardly. Out. Now, his brain demanded, but he wasn't sure how to extract himself without causing Antony offense, and he wasn't about to purposely piss her off after spending all that effort trying to apologize. Antoinette Devereux "Mmhmm," she murmured as she replaced her hand back on her hip, but she soon sighed and shook her head. This man was oh so dense, and she didn't think it worth the effort anymore. A challenge yes, but one that probably should wait till later. "Anyways, I was about to go to the beach, but if I go out at high noon I'll end up looking like a lobster... And if you want me to I could show you around?" Antony didn't know whether he'd take her up on the offer or not, but the sun did look a bit too bright today and her skin had become quite sensitive after her change. Damned albinoism. Chert Sanders Chert regarded her suspiciously a moment, thrown off-balance by the abrupt change in tactics, but the mistrust gradually seeped out of his eyes. When they hadn't been howling at each other like two tasmanian devils arguing over a meal, he'd actually enjoyed their conversations. However, there was a different sort of unease in his expression as he asked, "Are you sure that's a good idea?" God knew where that red-scaled maniac was at. Or the big roaring furry thing. He gestured over his shoulder with a thumb and tilted his head in the direction of the cafeteria. "I met some islanders a few days ago, and we... didn't really hit it off. No one bothered to inform me I was on the menu." Antoinette Devereux "Well, they won't allow anyone to kill anyone else... They have some kind of button command thing..." She explained, shrugging somewhat before sliding past him so she could get dressed. Moments later, Antony appeared clothed in a tank top, jeans, and a pair of flip flops. "You'll be fine you big baby," she grinned before giving him a playful swat to the stomach with the back of her hand. Chert Sanders An indignant tch escaped Chert's lips. His hand moved reflexively to his stomach. "It took them long enough to ******** activate it. b*****d went after that cat girl before nearly taking my face off." The knowledge that their safety depended upon the whims of the island's scientists did not inspire confidence. Chert opened the door and motioned with an arm, Lead the way. A sardonically arched eyebrow added, It's your funeral. Antoinette Devereux "What'd he look like... Or rather, what did the human part of him look like?" She winced at the last comment she felt had to be added. At his arm motion, she snatched up her keys and headed out the door, waiting for him to pass before closing and locking the duplex up. The keys were stuffed into the front of her jeans before she started down the stairs. "Where do you want to go? They've got an entertainment room with video games, movies, and a bunch of other things like that." Chert Sanders "He had kinda long brown hair, missing an arm. No sense of humor." Sadly, the list of human characteristics Chert could list pretty much ended there, although were many more distinguising features. Huge canines, sharp horns, hooked claws, yellow eyes...A corner of Chert's mouth quirked upward as he exited the building ahead of Antony, but it quickly moved back to its customary position. "A movie might not be too bad. I've always been a fan of Pretty Woman." Antoinette Devereux "Zach," she stated immediately, brow furrowing in slight confusion, "He must have transformed... Obviously, but he was always a scared little man..." Trailing off, Antony sighed slightly and pushed her hair out of her face. An eyebrow raised at the movie choice and she made a gagging noise, "Chick flicks~? You've got to be kidding me..." Antony sent an appraising look his way to find out if this were true or not. Oh the horrors of all horrors not girly movies. Chert Sanders Zach... So now he had a name to go with the face. Chert maintained his studiously serious expression as he met her look. He was surprised that she actually seemed to be considering whether he was sincere or not, which made him wonder a little bit about her impression of him. More than that, however, it made him wonder how far he could push the joke. "It's not just a chick flick," he insisted, careful not to overdo the earnestness. "It's Julia Robert's first leading role." Antoinette Devereux The fact that Chert almost seemed too serious made Antony suspicious, and she stopped where she was on the stairs and gave him a 'you got to be ******** kidding me' look. "Nancy boy," she countered, going along with his little joke. If he pushed, then she'd push back harder. "If you want to watch it so much, then maybe we should." Time to call his bluff. Chert Sanders Chert broke first. "******** no," he said, holding up his hands in surrender. The execution of the joke wasn't worth actually having to sit through a chick flick. He flipped through his mental library of movie titles, which hadn't been updated in awhile and was never very big to begin with. A large portion was devoted to old westerns, which he suspected would go over only marginally better than the chick flick suggestion, but there were a few that sounded suitably full of entertaining dialogue and violence. You couldn't go wrong with violence... as long as it was happening to someone else, anyway. "Pulp Fiction?" Antoinette Devereux Antony grinned smugly before doing a little celebratory victory dance right there on the steps. Even during the small movements it was easy to see that Antony could, in fact, dance, and dance well even. At his next suggestion, the tattooed woman attempted to stop gloating as she considered the choice. "Why don't we choose there. They have ******** of DVDs." And with that she turned and resumed walking down the stairs. Chert Sanders Chert rolled his eyes- yeah, yeah- and headed down the steps after her. "They like to keep their experiments occupied, eh?" An idle mind was the devil's playground, after all. Continued in [ORP] Entertainment Room Antoinette Devereux "Who would want to watch a boring show where no one did anything?" She asked, shrugging her shoulders somewhat. It didn't take them long to reach the entertainment room, and thankfully no one was there at the moment either. The moment she got into the room, Antony took the oppertunity to sprawl and take over the couch in front of the television. "Pick a movie," the squirrel woman stated while stretching her arms up over her head and yawning. Chert Sanders Chert blinked at the vast army of movies. He'd poked his head into the room before, but hadn't realized what a miserable glut of DVD's there were until forced to choose one. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid held his attention for a moment, but he passed it over in favor of Die Hard. He peered over his shoulder and held up the case for inspection. Antoinette Devereux Antony frowned and shook her head, "Not in the mood for Bruce today unfortunately." She sat up somewhat in order to gloss over the DVDs closest to her, grinning brightly when she found one they'd probably both enjoy. A real classic. "How about Indiana Jones?" Chert Sanders Chert's eyes lit up. "Raiders of the Lost Ark?" The first and the best, in his opinion. Antoinette Devereux "Sounds lovely," she echoed, slouching back down as she pointed to its location, "Pop 'er in." Chert Sanders Chert quirked an eyebrow at the command, but complied before flopping onto the floor with his back comfortably supported by the couch. A red "x" flickered in and out in the top corner of the screen when he tried to use the remote to try and persuade the stubborn technology to skip the boring parts (FBI warning, copyright information, blah blah blah...). "Damnit," he muttered to himself. What was the use of having a remote if the TV wouldn't do what you told it to do? It shouldn't be able to pick and choose commands what to follow. Antoinette Devereux "What, don't even want to fight me for a portion of the couch?" She huffed in mock offense, reaching over to ruffle his hair like she had done the morning after the Billy attack. Even she remembered how that had irked him. Chert Sanders he sudden ruffle-attack drew a growl of protest from Chert. He jerked to the side (not before she'd managed to tease the hair on one side of his head into a mess) and instinctively reached out to catch the offending hand. "If you're not careful, I'll sit on you." Antoinette Devereux He caught her hand before she could move it away and she made a dismissive noise at his threat. "I'd like to see you try," she commented as her tails twitched at the sound of the growl. Chert Sanders "Oh yeah?" he inquired casually. Without much warning, he used his grip on her wrist to try and draw her down to the floor while simultaneously scrambling up to claim the space she occupied. "Maybe I want to whole damn couch." Antoinette Devereux Antony let out a surprised yelp of sorts as she went tumbling off the couch, somehow managing to 'bounce' back onto her feet, or rather all fours. She blinked, unsure of what had just happened before she heard his claim to victory. "Oh, I'm not that easy," she smirked, eyes evaluating the situation before she simply sat on his stomach. Chert Sanders Chert hadn't been expecting her to rebound so quickly, so he let out a startled "oof!" when she claimed her new seat. This was an unforseen occurence- the tables had been turned. "Geroff!" he demanded, shifting his weight underneath in an effort to dump her back onto the floor. It was his couch now, and he wasn't sharing it without a fight. Antoinette Devereux She had been expecting him to try and rid himself of her, so she grabbed a handful of his shirt and held on for dear life. The squirrel kept her balanced as if she were simply on a tree branch during a windy day, and they couldn't very well fall out of the tree now could they? So Antony squirmed, attempting to shift herself onto all fours atop him for better leverage. Chert Sanders Chert's attempts to simply tip Antony over were failing spectacularly. He'd managed to wedge one of his shoulders into the crack between the seat cushions and the back of the couch, which hindered his severely hindered the rocking motion he'd tried to utilize to throw her over the side. Things were not looking good. It was the perfect time for an under-handed trick. While Antony's hands were occupied with his shirt, his fingers darted up nimbly to tickle her exposed stomach. Antoinette Devereux Things were looking good, and she gave a premature gloat before a undoubtably girly noise escaped from Antony's lips. Her eyes went wide and she immediately moved to try and keep his fingers away from her stomach. All the while she was squirming almost violently in attempts to escape the tickling, but Antony's legs were tightly holding onto him for dear life. "Cheater!" She gasped between un-Antony like sounds. Chert Sanders The unfamiliar sounds Antony was emitting startled Chert into a laugh, and for once there was no sarcastic undertone. He decided that maybe a combination of the two strategies he'd been utilizing might be successful, but as he attempted to keep her occupied by tickling her he found that the vice-grip she maintained with legs was a problem. The only thing his motions could accomplish were to move both of them sideways. Just as he become aware of the soundtrack to the opening loop playing on the television, he felt his back began to slide off of the cushions of the couch. Chert stopped struggling immediately, but by then gravity was working against him and the only thing he could do was try and latch onto Antony so that maybe they both went overboard at the same time. If he couldn't have the couch, no one could. Antoinette Devereux "Wah!" Antony yelped as they suddenly went toppling to the floor and she suddenly found herself no longer being tickled, but smooshed against Chert's chest. Her tails were moving frantically in alarm at the sudden inability to move, and her expression was one of shock and then frustration. Until that is, she got a lovely idea, and her nimble fingers went immediately for his sides, where she attacked without much mercy on a hunch that may or may not be true. Chert Sanders Chert felt his back hit the floor with a thump. He snickered internally at the noise of surprise she made, but was caught off-guard once again when he realized that bear hug he'd captured her in afforded him... quite a lovely view. There was no time to appreciate it, however, for Antony quickly countered his devious action one of her own- turnabout was not fair play! Chert let out a strangled, indignant shout and reversed his tactics, trying to push her off and squirm away to escape those awful teasing fingers. Damn women and their intuition. Antoinette Devereux The grip that her legs had on him weren't goint to let up quite yet, not until she had made him writhe and squirm for a bit longer. She chuckled at the noise he made, grinning deviously. "Just desserts!" After a bit though, Antony suddenly stopped and loosened her grip at the same time. Moments later, she was scurrying up onto her couch, which she sprawled out in victory, turning her attention towards the television as if she had been there all along. Though, it was hard to wipe that smile off her face. Chert Sanders It took Chert's nerves a moment to realize that the torture had ended, and by that time Antony was already situated smugly in her former position on the couch. He glared at her like a cat that had just had its tail tweaked. If her amused grin was any indication, she thought the battle was over. However, Chert's bruised pride demanded revenge. Sure, he might have started out on the floor in the first place, but Antony's refusal to let him have a spot on the couch had made it a desirable place to be. Chert got to his feet, a determined glint in his eyes, and dipped down with the intention to simply scoop up the tattooed woman out of her comfortable seat and into his arms. His frame lacked height, but its muscular stockiness meant that it was fairly well-suited to lifting things, and and that moment the only thing he had in mind was Antony's stubborn hide. Antoinette Devereux Antony gloated up at him, eyes filled with amusement as she gave him a lofty wave. Before she could wiggle her way out of it, Chert had removed her from the couch, enciting a squirrelly bark of protest from Antony, "I swear if you ******** drop me you'll be in a world of pain mister!" She chittered, red eyes wide as she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on for dear life out of habit. Chert Sanders "Fragile contents, handle with care?" he teased, smirking slightly at the squirrel woman's discomfort. She'd tickled him, after all. It seemed that Antony had an aptitude for uncovering his hidden pet peeves as easily as if they were buried acorns. To think of the store she'd collected already! He sat down on one end of the couch with all the pompousness of a king claiming his throne and loosened his grip enough to allow her to escape. Maybe they could share. Antoinette Devereux "Damn right," she replied, making a sort of huffing noise as her tails lashed behind her. When he sat down and loosened his grip, Antony made sure to make a show of getting comfortable in his lap. Much like a cat seemed to ritualize their prenap shows. She let her legs stretch out but remained situated on top of him, letting her arms loosen from around his neck for the time being. Tilting her head upwards, she offered him a cheeky grin, not at all phased by their close proximity. Chert Sanders Chert glared down at her. "Comfy?" he inquired, the word colored in dark-gray tones of disapproval. No motion was made to dislodge her, however. Antoinette Devereux "Quite," she chirped, holding his gaze for a while longer before she simply smiled to herself and turned her attention to the television, or at least, made it look like that's where her attention was. Chert Sanders There didn't seem to be any arguing with the woman, so Chert just huffed softly and leaned back against the couch. Although he'd been telling the truth earlier about not hating physical contact, he like it better when it was on his own terms and he could disengage at any time. Still, Antony's warm presence was not unpleasant; Indiana Jones took a backseat to the sensation, and Chert found himself equally pleased and annoyed. Antoinette Devereux She was surprised when he didn't simply dump her off onto either the other part of the couch or the floor. In fact, Antony took this as a sign and casually leaned back against his chest, shifting somewhat so she could see the TV well enough. Though, her attention was only somewhat on Harrison Ford, who sadly, was not warm and tangible. Chert Sanders Chert had half-expected that Antony might move if he refrained from making any entertaining protests, but her change in position seemed to suggest that she was settling in for the long haul. Hmm. By all visual indiciations, though, she was involved in the movie, and he was determined to match her nonchalance. After a little while of watching the movie, feigned interest became more real, and he gave a silent breath of laughter from time-to-time. It was barely audible, easier to detect from the sudden constriction of the muscles in his chest than anything else. Antoinette Devereux Her tails relaxed visibly when she realized that he wasn't attempting to do a sort of sneak attack on her when she got comfy and pretended to watch the movie. His small bouts of laughter caused her to wonder whether he were faking it or simply didn't want to jostle her around much. Either way, Antony felt 'safe' from further attacks and allowed herself to let her guard down. After a while, she suddenly spoke softly, "Just tell me if your legs are falling asleep or something..." It was the least she could do. Chert Sanders The considerate offer was a little startling, and it embarassed Chert as any display of solicitude was bound to. "I'd have pushed you off already if they were," he grunted, his fixed expression unhelpful in discerning whether he was joking or not. Truthfully, though, the longer he sat there the less inclined he was to snarl or complain. After a few weeks of running around the island in a constant state of fury, desperation, and sleep deprivation, the few minutes spent in the quiet company of the woman and the movie were pleasant. Even if Antony insisted upon sitting on him. His almost placid mood would assuredly pass, as temporary as the calm eye of a hurricane, but for now he was content to sit. "Thanks, though," he added, after a breath. Antoinette Devereux "Mhm," she mumured in reply, content to shift a bit herself to bar her rear from falling asleep, tails curling up against her lower back lazily. There was nothing else to really say, so Antony simply continued to watch the movie quietly while enjoying his company as well as his lap. Chert Sanders The rugged, determined Indie continued to pursue the Ark with a mixture of luck, resourcefulness, and a neverending supply of cheeky quips. The movie was moving steadily towards its climax as Indiana pulled out a rocket launcher and threatened to foil the Nazi's plans by blowing up the coveted artifact, when a loud "sneeeerrrrk" split the air. It sounded like a cross between an disgruntled dinosaur and an old-fashioned saw going to town on an oak log. Definitely not part of the original soundtrack. Further investigation would confirm that the noise had originated from Chert, who had lost his battle with the sandman somewhere between the German soldier's death-by-airplane-propeller and Indie's daring infiltration of the U-boat. Antoinette Devereux The noise sudden cause Antony to flinch and jerk somewhat, eyes open in surprise as she turned to view the origin of the snerk. She blinked, and then simply stared, unsure of what to do now. On one hand, she could attempt to take a nap herself and allow him to continue sleeping, but on the other hand she could wake him in some unrulely fashion and then chastize him for falling asleep on her. The latter idea seemed akin to waking a bear out of hibernation, so she chose to find a variation of the former. In the end, Antony simply rearranged herself carefully so that she was using the arm of both him and the couch as a backrest, while she rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes. If he was going to get a nap, then she was damn well going to too. Chert Sanders ____________Later..._______________ Consciousness came back to Chert slowly. The clinging black fog of his dreams gradually disappated and gave way to the harsh, artificial light of the entertainment room, and he became aware of the quiet complaints the muscles of his neck were broadcasting. Chert jerked his head forward with a startled snort and blinked owishly at his surroundings. The energetic orchestral score of the movie's title screen continued to loop while his mental processes sluggishly crept into motion like a steam engine that had just begun to pick up speed. Where was he? What time was it? Was the movie already over? Chert slurred a few of the questions together ("Whurr movie time izzit?") and brought up a hand to rub the stale feeling out of his eyes. As he did so, he felt his fingertips brush against something soft, warm, and foreign. A glance downwards revealed that it was Antony, still curled up comfortably in his lap. The realization wandered around aimlessly in his head without making any successful connections. Still there. Antony. In his lap. His eyes trailed over the curves of her face, marveling at how serene they seemed in the gentle grip of sleep. Undoubtedly that would change as soon as she awakened, but- The wandering thought clicked into place, lighting up his brain like a Christmas tree. Still there! Antony! In his lap! He stared down at her fixedly, as if she were a very rare and puzzling species of fish. How had she managed to end up there, again? And why was she still there? He shifted slightly as he glanced from side to side, unsure of what to do. Antoinette Devereux Despite the replaying of title menu music, Antony remained fast asleep, quite comfortable still in their seating arrangement. Sometime during the nap, her outside hand had slipped under his shirt as it pulled herself closer to the source of body heat. When he stirred ever so slightly, a soft noise came from the female as she nuzzled against his chest out of instinct. Sleep seemed to bring out all her 'positive' features, especially highlighting features that were rarely present when she was awake. She looked peaceful, sweet, and even innocent if one looked at just the right angle. Her tails were even relaxed, curled against her in a natural position, the tips only flicking every so often, if that. Obviously, the tattooed woman had managed to fall into a deep sleep, and Chert would have to wake the sleeping squirrel himself. Chert Sanders Antony's nuzzling motion caused Chert to mutter under his breath like an aggravated cockatiel, although it was difficult to be angry at someone who looked so peaceful and serene. But how in the world did she manage to keep him off-balance even when she was sleeping? He tried to remember the last time he'd sat curled up like this with anyone, and discovered a large, hazy wall of busy weekends and lates nights at home listening to old folk and blues records. Well, maybe lack of practice explained why it made him so uneasy. Johnny Cash had never tried to sleep in his lap. Chert idly watched her slumber a little more before deciding he'd had enough peace and quiet for now. Very carefully, so as not to awaken her ahead of schedule, he leaned down closer to her ear. It was difficult to keep his lips from curling into a wide grin as he sat there with his fingertips resting poised mere centimeters above her shoulders. Then, without warning, he let loose a panicked cry. " Antony! The Nazis are coming!" Antoinette Devereux Antony jumped suddenly, a chittering shout of surprise leaving her lips at Chert's sharp cry of her name. The rest of the words didn't register with her as her eyes shot open wide and her tails bristled and twitched spastically. Her startled movements had offset her balance, and she found herself sliding off of both his lap and the couch. If he reacted fast enough he could probably catch her. Chert Sanders Chert reached out to catch her with a startled "oop!", barely securing her before she disappeared over the edge of the couch. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he suffered a halting fit a laughter, which had what could only be described as faint diabolical undertones. Antoinette Devereux She yelped when he caught her and yanked her back towards his lap, anger beginning to burn the moment she heard him laughing. Her first instinct was to punch him square in the arm and glare at him, "******** not funny! Stop laughing!" Chert Sanders The punch connected solidly, causing Chert to wince visibly but failing to banish his smile. Pain mixed together with his laugh to create a deep chuckle- something about her sincere indignation intensified his mirth, and although he attempted to stop chortling like a lunatic with a death-wish, he wasn't very successful. Antoinette Devereux Antony growled low in her throat, huffing and trying not to let the amusement of the entire situation cause her to smile or even laugh. "I didn't wake you when you started snoring you a**!" She grunted irritably before immediately moving her fingers to his sides. In for the kill, or rather the tickle. There would be no mercy! Chert Sanders In a knee-jerk reaction, Chert tried to protest, "I don't snore!" but Antony's fingers found his sides before he could finish the sentence. Speech and laughter gave way to a loud yelp- argh, make it stop, get away, don't do that!- and Chert's arms flew out reflexively to push his tormentor away. What a ruthless opponent! Antoinette Devereux "Do too!" She shot back maturely, the sharp shove not exactly catching her off guard; she was attacking him afterall. "Nuh uh! You're going to pay Mister!" A sadistic grin appeared on her lips as she wormed her way into straddling him again so she could keep from falling off him as easily. Chert Sanders "Stop! Was just- joke!" he choked breathlessly while his hands worked madly to block her fingers. Antony's vicious tickle-attack wasn't causing him to laugh, persay, but it was eliciting all sorts of undignified snorts, gasps, and wheezes. "You'll- pay- forthis!" Antoinette Devereux Antony's grin grew even broader as she watched him squirm and make all sorts of interesting noises, but she eventually stopped, hands shifting to his wrists in order to restrain them. A cheeky grin was given as she watched his face smugly, "Oh really?" It was then that she noticed the color of his eyes, something she must have missed due to his numerous glares, and she simply tilted her head and leaned in for a closer look. Suddenly, Antony missed her old eyes... Her human eyes. Chert Sanders "What?" Chert asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow and leaning away from the unexpected proximity of the woman's reddish gaze. The strange color gave her eyes an unusual intensity, and at that moment it was difficult to read her expression. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he thought he detected a hint of regret. Antoinette Devereux "Huh?" She blinked at him when he questioned her and pulled back, shaking her head somewhat when she realized what she had been doing. "Your eyes are nice," Antony explained, shrugging her shoulders as if to lessen the compliment, "And they're still... Well, you know... Human..." Obviously, her eyes were no longer how they used to be. Chert Sanders "Ah, you'll have company in order rodentia soon," Chert said with a lop-sided grin. The humor in it was dark, but sincere. "Though I doubt I'll pull it off as well." Antony's eyes were an unusual color, but he couldn't imagine what she might look like without them. They suited her, somehow. Antoinette Devereux "I guess we'll see then," she offered in reply to the rodentia comment. With the masked compliment, Antony tilted her head a bit more and gave him a slightly confused look before finally offering him a sincere smile. The pads of her thumbs lazily trailed along his inner wrists without her really thinking about it. Chert Sanders It was one of the first plain, straightforward smiles he'd seen from her, and his own grin softened in response. The fingers of his hands twitched ever-so-slightly under the slow touch of her digits. "Tickles," he protested shortly, gaze traveling downward. Antoinette Devereux "Hmm?" Antony questioned, following his gaze to his wrists and blinking, stopping her thumbs immediately when she realized what she was doing. "Sorry, didn't know I was doing it," she murmured, glancing up at him curiously, surprised that he hadn't tossed her off of him yet. Chert Sanders He seemed to notice it at the same time she did, and looked just as surprised. The expression of perplexity in his eyes was quickly replaced by the familiar, habitual defensivess, however- don't read to much into it, his turquoise eyes huffed silently. Antoinette Devereux She watched him silently, noticing the surprise turn back to his defenses, and she frowned slightly. "Why are you so defensive?" The question was asked before she could really think about it, but she kept hold of wrists, in case he was thinking revenge as a distraction. Chert Sanders "I'm not defensive," he growled defensively, although there was a new undercurrent of worry to his voice. He couldn't explain 'why' to her- all he knew what that in that brief moment where Antony smiled, he'd felt an unfamiliar glimmer of affection. For someone so stubbornly set in their surly, guarded ways, it had been a little like stepping forward and having his foot encounter nothing but air. "Let go." Antoinette Devereux Antony rolled her eyes when he denied it, but said nothing more to him about it. His sudden request surprised her, and she gave him a quizzical look. She moved her hands from around his wrists cautiously, as if one wrong move would set off a bomb. Chert's temper was that bomb. He had more mood swings than a pregnant woman did. Chert Sanders Her pronounced caution elicited a cross look from the man as he rubbed distractedly at one wrist. "Christ, it's not like I'm combustible." Which might have been a bald-faced lie, depending on how literal-minded you were. Antoinette Devereux "Well I'm the pot, and I'm calling you black," she said bluntly, placing her palms on her upper thighs to keep them from casually touching the man under her. "And it's not like I injured your wrist either." Chert Sanders "Hnh," he grunted, crossing his arms over his chest in order to stop the mindless fidgeting. "******** pots and their ******** patience." Antoinette Devereux Antony paused, raising an eyebrow at his cryptic comment before actually replying, "I'm only patient for those I don't hate." She conveniently ignored the part about her temper, if he was even asking about that, and simply shifted in his lap, making her 'slip' of her hips seem like an accident. Chert Sanders Chert gave a startled grumble at the action (which a part of him suspected was entirely purposeful), and moved to push Antony off. "God help those you do-," he retorted instinctively, before the actual meaning of the sentence sank in. Didn't hate him? There was a brief pause as his brain was forced to shift gears to respond to the comment. "I don't hate you, either," was the best it could come up with. "But I'm not your damn sofa." Antoinette Devereux She grunted at his comment about those she hated, but quirked an eyebrow at the comment that he didn't hate her. Between that and the dead bug gift, Antony didn't know whether to ignore these things or simply be amused by them. "You're the one who put me there," Antony pointed out while still holding onto his legs with her thighs (of steel), a smirk attempting to worm it's way out, "And this is the first time you complained..." Chert Sanders Well, she had him there- but that didn't mean he had to concede gracefully. "My mistake," he said. Jesus, did mechanics jack up their cars with their legs? "Next time I'll drop you on the floor." Antoinette Devereux "You've seen the magic of my knee haven't you?" She gave him a grin, crossing her arms over her chest in order to mock him. As far as her legs were concerned, sex could be quite a lovely work out. "Well, you'll meet it if you drop me." Though there was a bit of seriousness in the threat, Antony was pretty sure he wouldn't drop her. However, she didn't want to push his buttons too much, so she put her hands on his legs (away from the family jewels), loosened her grip, and then pushed herself up and back off him as well as the couch. When her feet hit the ground, she raised her arms over her head and stretched, yawning loudly. Chert Sanders Chert winced. Oh, indeed, he'd born witness to the... "magic," if the ability to reduce men into quivering, jelly-like balls of pain counted as such. "You wouldn't." He was in the middle of breathing silent sigh of relief as she finally acquiesced and removed herself from her lap, when the languid motion revealed a good deal more of Antony than he'd been expecting to see. A hand quickly darted up to his forehead, and the silent sigh was voiced as a short breath of exasperation. Does she do these things on purpose? It was impossible for him to tell. Somewhere in the back of his head a small voice grinned- nice view- but most of him wanted to retreat to somewhere he'd be able to get his feet back under him. He scooted to the side and stood up beside Antony, scratching the back of his head with one hand. Antoinette Devereux Antony shrugged, "Just don't give me a reason to do it then." Her hands went to pull her tank hem back down to where it had originally resided, casually scratching a phantom itch on her hip while they were down there. Suddenly, he looked nervous, like he wanted to simply run away and hide under a rock. "Something wrong?" She asked, raising her eyes up to meet his questioningly. "The pot wants to know." Chert Sanders "The kettle is maintaining his stance of 'no comment," he responded with a twitch of his eyebrows. Maybe it was accidental. The curiosity in her face didn't seem to hold any sort of mockery, at least that he could detect. But the switch had already clicked over in his head, like a migrating bird's; it was time to find one of his solitary spots and sort himself out. He glanced towards the door. "Listen... thanks for the movie, but it's getting late." Antoinette Devereux "Mhm, not a problem... And uh, thanks for the dead bug," the last part was added as an afterthought, and she offered him a lopsided grin. She had no clue waht she was gonig to do with said butterfly, but she'd think of something. Moments later, Antony was turning to leave, but not after she gave a sneaky pinch to the his side closest to her. One last cheap shot tickle. "Ta," she smoothed, tails flipped up against her lower back as she slipped out the door to head back to her duplex. Chert Sanders "Butterfly!" he called after her belatedly, clutching one hand to his side. She'd already exited, though, and Chert was left alone in the room with the TV still cheerfully emitting the orchestral score. He took a moment to stop the movie and put the DVD back in the case before heading out, more to give Antony some time to get back to her duplex than out of any sort of concern for neatness. How was it he felt tired when he'd just taken a nap?
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Posted: Thu Apr 06, 2006 7:11 pm
[ Message temporarily off-line ]
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Posted: Tue Apr 11, 2006 12:27 pm
On her way back from the beach, both towel and bag slung over her shoulder, the squirrel woman didn't really want to go back to her duplex quite yet. After all, she didn't have her surf board to drop off like she usually did, having only gone to the beach to swim a bit for exercise and to think over the recent happenings with Alec. After about an hour of swimming, she hadn't gotten any closer to an answer or even piece of mind.
Instead, she was following her feet, which took her to the duplex directory in town hall, and the familiar name she saw on it made her decision for her.
It was time to visit Chert.
And so, around five minutes later, Antony was knocking on his duplex door, still in her wet swimsuit, her wet hair tucked behind her ears as she casually leaned against the doorframe.
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Posted: Tue Apr 11, 2006 12:44 pm
Nobody answered the door immediately. There was a brief period of silence on the other side before someone barked a short, "What?" Although the voice was audible, it didn't sound as if it were anywhere near the entrance to the duplex.
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