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 Posted: Fri Feb 13, 2015 3:05 pm
Warrick was just suddenly there. Her hands fell away from Taym's arm, and in a flash of red Warrick was there between them, not to attack, but to guard herself against his anger. Maybe it should have hurt, that look directed at her, but she didn't take it personally. This wasn't about her, Peyton knew that. She stared up at him, met those dark, fiery eyes, and waited for logic and reason to replace that feral light. When it did the daggers lowered.
As he turned away she drew in a deep breath through her nose and let it out in a sigh, shoulders rounding. A beat, then he was giving the shorter man a hard shove in her direction, and Pey reached up automatically to grab the ropes that bond him, and a hand snacked around to replace the bite of fiona against Lawrence's slender neck. Her mind flicked back to Horace, to what the intermediate Death had done to him, and the awful plea that had followed her out of the cave. It made her sick, sent bile churning in her stomach. What the ******** had he done to him?
Now the anger was allowed to roll up again, and she shifted her grip from the ropes to his whole wrist, jerking it up sharply and pressing into his back to get him moving. "Walk," she hissed up at him, voice a low growl as she started him down the path.
When she felt him twisting, attention caught my America's voice, she increased the pressure on his arm, twisting it farther up his back as the curved blade pressed a little more firmly against his neck. "Don't talk to her."
She'd been kept on the sidelines of this for so long. It was frustrating, wanting to help, to keep the people she loved safe, and being barred from it, kept at bay, by the very people she wanted to protect. Well, now she was in, a toe in the door.
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Posted: Fri Feb 13, 2015 4:38 pm
Taym was rather more explicit. "Say one more ******** word to her and I will cut your ******** tongue out," he said, calmly, flatly, sincerely. "Keep ******** walking."
And that was all the time he had for him, if today wasn't the day that he got to kill him. Let Peyton keep him quiet, and stay at his back with her weapon shoved up under his chin, hard enough, he hoped, to hurt. He turned his back on Lawrence without fear to follow America down the path and jerked his chin at America's burden. "You need help with that?" Like she was carrying an armful of groceries, or maybe a sack of manure.
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Posted: Fri Feb 13, 2015 4:44 pm
She didn't answer the greeting, but America did meet his gaze with one of her own. In it was the promise that perhaps was all he really sought in this. She would get in his way, she would make his existence difficult in every way she could manage, she would stop him until finally, he was stopped. God willing, that would be today.
Walking away, she gave Taym a wry smile. "Wanna play hot potato with him?"
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Posted: Fri Feb 13, 2015 5:00 pm
Lawr walked, but frustratingly slowly. He did not seem to care about the blade at his throat, even while it clearly bit into his flesh, leaving a lingering red welt where Fiona had been. He did not take his eyes off America for even a moment as they went. Nor did he submit to the order not to speak to America, but instead smiled brightly at her for the look.
"It is indeed quite lovely to see you get involved in all this missy. Though there is much to be desired for your treatment of the wounded. You always used to seem concerned for suffering, I suppose that only applies to animals. There is no need to be cruel to him. Though I agree that all of this is such a burden on your busy schedule of hiding in your little dysfunctional den of denial." He turned his attention to Peyton briefly. "And you, I did not have you pegged as someone to enable such abuse of dear Horace. Wasn't he supposed to be your friend? You sounded awfully concerned."
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Posted: Fri Feb 13, 2015 5:03 pm
"Or you could dash back and grab that gag," America smiled charmingly at her boyfriend,like she was wheedling him for the rest of his dessert.
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Posted: Fri Feb 13, 2015 5:06 pm
A very sharp elbow was rammed into the small of Lawr's back in an attempt to shut him up, not that she really expected it to work. His questions were not dignified with a response, at least not one for his sake.
It pained her to say anything in agreement with Lawrence, but that last, almost dismissive comment had her turning an incredulous look towards America. "'Merica." There was no love lost between the two, she knew that, she understood it, but there had to be a limit, a line that did not get crossed. The trainee had suffered enough already. "He's in enough pain." It wasn't an order, it wasn't exactly a request. It was Peyton pointing out something that seemed fundamentally wrong.
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Posted: Fri Feb 13, 2015 5:06 pm
"My you are growing cowardly in your old age."
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Posted: Fri Feb 13, 2015 5:21 pm
America's request went unanswered. Calmly, swiftly, Taym leaned over and tangled his fist up in what was left of Horace's blood-soaked shirt, and it was only partially with the help of the knife that he yanked a chunk of it free, and crossed over in a couple of long ground-eating purposeful strides to gag Lawrence with it, but not before reaching down to gather up a fistful of gritty earth to shove it into his mouth, or at least smear it across his face, if Lawr avoided it.
"Sorry for making him bleed on you, sweetheart," he said apologetically as he worked, his natural drawl, effortless and understated, creeping in solely as a result of his rage but sounding like a mockery of cheap imitations, "but I figure the damage's already done. You can hand him over if you still wanna play hot potato." And then, for good measure, he spat on him again, just because he could, just because he was there.
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Posted: Fri Feb 13, 2015 5:26 pm
Everything hurt and while he didn't like being held by America, of all people, he wasn't sure if he could walk right. His thoughts whirled around in his head and as they exited the cave, he felt a little clearer, a little less sleepy, although fine tremors still racked his body. He was aware enough to see Taym's look, to hear America's words. He was an object. He was a burden. It was clear that no one had come here to find him, but instead to catch Jan in some sort of slip-up. Horace was less than nothing and honestly, maybe it would've been better if Jan had finished with him before anyone came. Taym's grabbing of his shirt only reinforced that.
"Let go of me," he hissed, and twisted. Walking, trying top, or falling, crawling, anything was better than being held by people who didn't give a s**t about him. Out of all them, probably Jan was the one who cared the most and Horace knew his kind of care was a twisted thing. He fell, heavily, crumpling into a mass of blood and bruise and shrieking pain. But only a strangled cry rose from his throat; he would not yell or scream or retch though he felt bile and nausea swarm him. If he was such a burden, they could leave him. He could find his own way.
The semibreve on his chest had broken open again, and blood seeped warmly out of it. Slowly, he got to his hands and knees and swayed. It was funny or perhaps fortuitous that there was some discarded branch, driftwood maybe, by his side. He grabbed it, blanched, and began to pull himself upright, avoiding the use of his left hand. Horace would rather walk, fall, hurt, than be touched by these people who didn't care.
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Posted: Fri Feb 13, 2015 5:37 pm
Lawr resisted the dirt, clenching his jaw and refusing outright to open his mouth but ending up with it in his teeth and on his face instead, it irritated him more than the physical pain had, dirt in any form was uncomfortable for him, a marring of his innate perfection. The gag he could not resist and finally conceded to it, cold blue eyes all the while looking past Taym to America, even when the other man blocked his field of view, it was like watching an animal or a snake maintain its fixed attention on its prey even while the rest of it was moved.
He was incapable of saying more.
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Posted: Fri Feb 13, 2015 5:44 pm
In the end, Horace was treated to the indignity of the net gun,ratger than left behind. America knew what else lurked in the forest and night was falling swiftly upon them. The trip to the infirmary was unpleasant but uneventful, Horace dropped off with the triage unit that had been waiting since America's text.
"You can stay with him, if you'd rather he had a friendly face about," America offered Peyton before turning to Taym. "Doctor's the only lead on island far as I can tell,"
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Posted: Fri Feb 13, 2015 6:00 pm
The relief the Sun felt when they made it to the labs was palpable. The trip back from the cave had seemed to go and on far longer than it had taken them to get there in the first place. Touching Lawrence made her skin crawl, listening to Horace's protests just hurt. It needed to be over, and when it was, when they'd gotten the trainee to the help he needed, the lifting of that particular weight from her shoulders left her feeling almost dizzy.
The second she had the chance to relinquish their hostage into somebody else's custody she did, gladly, palms running roughly against her thighs as if she sought to wipe away the feeling of him from her skin.
There were times Peyton felt like a monster, but looking at the ruin of Horace's chest she knew there were those out there far worst.
At America's suggestion the girl looked between the trainee on the gurney and the two moons with their captive, then back to Horace again. Less drugged, still in pain, it hurt just to look at the wounds. "I'll go with him." Someone should be there, someone that cared about him for him, and not just as a victim. Warrick was gone now, and her hand came up to rest on the railing of the gurney as if it solidified her answer.
"Let me know what happens." She didn't like not being there, but there were more important things for her to be doing right now. She trusted America, she trusted Taym. They would do everything they could, and they would keep her informed.
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