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 Posted: Fri Apr 21, 2006 10:36 pm
Chert didn't resist her pull, gladly sinking closer. He turned his head slightly to nibble delicately on her earlobe before returning his attentions to the soft skin in the hollow of her shoulder.
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Posted: Fri Apr 21, 2006 10:41 pm
A soft, unAntony like noise escaped her lips as his nibble sent warm prickles down her spine to the tip of her tails, which was a strange, yet pleasant, feeling. Her hips raised against his, urging his motions on and asking a silent question as she herself trailed kisses and n** down his jawline to the crook of his neck.
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Posted: Fri Apr 21, 2006 11:07 pm
The sensation flew down his nerve endings and set his insides aglow. For the second time that night- miracle of miracles- all of Chert's bits and pieces were in harmonious agreement. Every one purred a wordless yes. ~Fade to black~
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Posted: Sat Apr 22, 2006 3:48 pm
A Party Planned
Pessimists Go 'Bump' in the Night Fiona Brooks The evenings on a tropical island could be expected to be warm. This was the case on the particular night where a young girl found herself restless, unable to sleep, and more impatient than usual. The weather was kind to her, and so she did little more than put on a pair of flip-flops before wandering out into the night in her pajamas. At first, she had been drawn in the direction of the beach, her feet automatically following the route that had become familiar to her amidst all her party-planning. There was nothing for her to do there, though, and she soon changed her mind. Strolling idly, Fiona took a rather pensive route around the duplexes, circling them with her fingers woven together behind her head and her eyes turned up to the sky. Chert Sanders The dark face of the night had also invited Chert outside to wander, and he'd gladly heeded the call. If his feet were working, that meant his mind didn't have to, and avoiding the thorny tangle of thoughts that sat in his head was a key priority at that moment. The morning after... he grumbled silently. The morning after was always a problem. But- he took a tight hold of that thought process and streered it in another direction- that wasn't what he'd come out to think about. The night air was slightly cooler than the day's (admittedly, that wasn't saying much), and the sight of the stars that glimmered in the night sky was soothing. That was what he was talking a walk for. Not to think about the awkward moment with Antony. He was so busy concentrating on thinking about not thinking about the conversation that he completely failed to notice that another person had decided a night walk could be pleasant, too. Fiona Brooks Had Fiona been a more astute person, or, perhaps, someone along in their transformation who had gained an extra bit of sight or hearing, she might have noticed the other wanderer. She was, however, only Fiona, and also rather apt to become oblivious when thinking harder than accustomed to. So it was that only a pause against the wall of some annonymous duplex to rest her feet would lead her attention to a figure in the dark. Something crept up her spine and a small voice warned her of danger, but it went unheeded. "Hey," she called out, her normally loud, invasive tone tempered by the calm of the night air. "Couldn't sleep either?" Chert Sanders The unexpected voice halted Chert in midstride and brought his head snapping around to the approximate source of the sound. A measure of startlement thrummed in his chest like taut string that had been plucked, and although the shadowy figure that rested against the wall appeared to be mostly human, the sight failed to set him at ease. Humans were humans even if they had extra limbs or scales and whiskers. And humans were trouble. His pessimistic nature'd had a firm grasp on that viewpoint when he was back home, and the island had only served to reinforce it. A guarded frown obscured the more uncertain emotions on his face like a mask. "What does it look like?" he asked in a tone prickly enough to give a cactus a run for its money. First impressions. Bah! Fiona Brooks She cocked an eyebrow, her lip curling up into a smirk hidden by the night. "I dunno. Maybe you're an insane person who sleeps in the day and stays up at night." Fiona stuck out her tongue, and in comparison to her more subtle expressions the flash of pink would have been fairly easy to see. "Or you could be some kind of scientist sneaking around while everyone's sleeping, sticking people with needles." Anger suddenly leaked into her voice, but it wasn't directed at the stranger she found herself talking to. Instead, her head turned up at the murky outline of the building where she knew the Feral Labs logo to be. "God, one of these days," she muttered under her breath, "I'm gonna climb up that ******** building and spraypaint over that damn thing." Chert Sanders Chert felt a faint p***k of annoyance at what he percieved as a rather immature gesture- but then again, even in the dark Fiona struck him as quite young. Perhaps it was that hint of that gangly arrangement of limbs inherent in almost all teenagers, or the slightly whimsical explanations for his night-wandering. Either way, the impression of youth was enough to convince him not to simply turn away and walk in the other direction. He quirked an eyebrow at her mumbled threat, which carried well on the clarity of the night air. "Revenge through arts and crafts, huh?" Fiona Brooks "I'll take any kind of revenge I can get. Since obviously it doesn't work to like, attack them or anything. You know about the random neck... chip... things? Right?" As she mentioned it, Fiona rubbed a finger against the bumps of her spine, wondering where the foreign presence was hiding. "If I wasn't afraid of killing myself, I'd try and pick it out with a cafeteria fork." She laughed- a cold, annoyed sound that was out of place in the serene atmosphere. "But I guess if they saw someone trying to get it out, they'd just knock them out. ******** sadistic bastards..." the girl mumbled, and while the faint touch of sleepiness dulled her rage, it was still a pure emotion, straight from the heart of a stranded, trapped, and secretly frightened teenager. Chert Sanders "I know," Chert agreed shortly. The thought of his second meeting with Aubrey crept uneasily across his mind. He wondered whether the girl's determination was just empty bluster, or truly sincere. The sentiment in her voice had an unfiltered quality to it that suggested the latter, though the anger was different than what he was familiar with. It was quick, bright, and fierce, unlike the frustration that smouldered slowly and constantly in his own chest. Ah, youth. A humorless grin tugged the corners of his mouth upwards. "They do have a caught between a rock and a hard place," he agreed. Fiona Brooks Fiona gave a huffy sigh. "Yeah. But at least there are some little things we can do to defy them without pissing them off enough to electrocute us. Like, you know how we're on a tropical island, right? And how airconditioning is expensive? I leave my duplex door open all the time, just to waste money." She pulled her face into a grimace. "Maybe if we bankrupt'em they won't be able to afford to ship more people into this hellhole." "Oh, and I'm throwing a 'screw the scientists, we're fine on our own' party sometime soon. You should come! It's gonna be on the beach, with fires and junk. And even if parties aren't your thing-" he certainly gave off that aura- "it's a good way to stick it to the man without getting yourself knocked out cold." Chert Sanders The offer grated against Chert's pessimistic streak like a wire brush against a steel pan. "'Stick it to the man?'" he repeated in disbelief. "Moreau could probably care less what we do with our ******** free time. What's that going to accomplish?" Fiona Brooks Something dangerous glittered in Fiona's eyes, but the emotion wouldn't fit with any description. "There's lots it'll accomplish. Think about it. A whole shitload of people..." she lowered her voice and looked around in an almost paranoid way. She hadn't revealed to anyone what the true purpose of the party was. Would the staff stop her if they found out? "...people who have something against them. People who want off, or want people to stop getting dragged here. All getting together and talking. It's great if one person acts up, sure... but think how much better s**t'll work with like ten or even twenty people putting their heads together," she whispered, an excited smile creeping up on her face. Chert Sanders "Ah, yes. I'm sure they won't have a problem with that," he snorted. Part of him felt guilty for being so negative- at least Fiona hadn't just laid down and decided to accept her situation- but her the optimism that lurked behind her zeal set him ill-at-ease. Her tone of voice told him that she had expectations, which tended to be troublesome things. At the very least, they hurt a lot more when they got crushed than if you'd been expecting the very worst from the start. "Don't you think they'll find out pretty damn quick?" he inquired with a meaningful twitch of his eyebrows. Fiona Brooks "Well yeah," Fiona said, calling into use the amazing skill of the teenaged female to make the word imply that he was possibly the stupidest person alive through mere intonation. "Which is why we've just gotta be quicker. And-" she frowned a little, her sentence interrupted by a wide yawn. The lack of sleep had finally caught up with her. "You know what, nevermind. I'm too tired to argue right now. But you should still come to the party," the girl said insistantly, getting up from leaning against the duplex and rolling her shoulders. "The more people there, the better. And if nothing else, it'll give people a reason to be less pissy." Whether she meant Chert in particular or simply all the more transformed and more jaded personalities of the island, it was hard to tell. "I'm gettin' tired, so I'm gonna go." Chert Sanders] "Good luck," he said, the lop-sided and humorless grin creeping on his face again. While his voice wasn't exactly insincere, it was dark enough to clearly suggest he suspected the party was a hopless endeavor. "If you're lucky, maybe no one'll try and eat anyone else."
The man shoved his hands into his pockets and began to move down his original path with only a faint shrug of his shoulders for a goodbye. The crack about pissy islanders was aggravating, whether it was directed at him or not. Good-humor was an unwelcome and foreign visitor in his thoughts that night, like the neighbor that dropped by to chatter cheerfully at you when you had a raging headache.
The girl's name was still a mystery, but he figured that if she kept on as she'd been doing that he'd hear of her sooner or later. [/quote]
[quote="Fiona Brooks "Seeya," she said, and for once her tone lacked any emotion. Cracking her neck to the side once, and then twice, Fiona picked up her feet and began to slow trudge back to her duplex, taking a longer route so that she wouldn't likely run into the guy again. 'He'll see,' she thought, kicking a pebble ahead of her as she walked, thinking back to the other islanders who hadn't been very supportive of her ideas. 'They'll all see. Even if it doesn't accomplish anything, this party will be great. It'll kick a**... damn I'm tired. Can't wait to get to bed...' And with such a line of thought dancing through her head, she eventually reached her room and slipped inside, flopping onto the bed and easing into slumber before she could kick her sandals off or get under the covers.
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Posted: Mon Apr 24, 2006 8:13 pm
Fiona's Speech
And a Troubling Encounter with Awen <...........Speech To Be Inserted Here.......> Awen Zyn The way to the river, however, was not the peaceful one Awen had thought it would be. In her way was a man she had only seen once before and last time things hadn't gone too well. This time didn't seem to bode much better, at least not if the night's record had anything to say about it. When she saw the man in her pathway she paused and just looked up at him silently, wondering if he would move or speak or if she should just walk around. Chert Sanders Chert leaned up against the smooth bark of tree with his arms folded across his chest. His gaze was deceptively impassive as he watched her approach, although inside he wondered why he didn't simply retreat back into the jungle. Something he was unable to identify rooted him to the spot and prevented his escape. "Some party," he said quietly. Awen Zyn "Yeah.." She gave a small grunting laugh. "Tell me about it..." She smiled softly up at the man. "Sorry about the brutal scene there..." Idly Awen scratched her elbow, the skin starting to seem flakey. Chert Sanders "Brutal?" Chert repeated, a strange mixture of amusement and anger swimming in his eyes. "You're not fond of unpleasant scenes, I gather." Awen Zyn "Not so much no." She shook her head slowly. "Horror movies, fine sure whatever. Tension and arguments in books and fighting in video games I'll deal. But...actual arguing and fithing and stuff... I try to avoid." She cringed a bit. "I dunno... it just stings I guess." Chert Sanders "And turning into a fish doesn't?" Some of the ire that had been hiding at the edges of his expression escaped into his voice. Awen Zyn Frowning Awen looked to the ground. "At first it did. But... it's helped me more than it's hurt." She shrugged. "I came here for therapy, to get rid of a phobia and I got it. I tried to escape and I nearly died. I don't think what they're doing here is right, I want to help Fiona where I can... but I want her to think. It's not going to be any use if the attempt she tries or has other people help her in trying end up hurting and failing. I just want her to be a bit more rational. I'm all for the cause...just not the way Fiona is working things out, because that way she'll end up hurting people." Chert Sanders The words coming out of the younger woman's mouth failed to make sense for several seconds after she'd spoken them. It's helped me more that it's hurt... Certainly, he didn't agree with Fiona's mentality (the concept of group revolution was too messy and uncertain to appeal to him), but he was so hung up on the first sentence that Awen spoke that he barely heard the rest of it. "What the ******** kind of lunatic are you?" he demanded after a short, incredulous pause. Her tone sounded so seductively reasonable that it was difficult to believe she was capable of such insanity. Awen Zyn She winced at the question. Shaking her head slowly she just knew this kind of thing would happen. "I don't know. I was living in fear of almost everything since my parents died. My phobia was of water, but because I was afraid of that everything was affected. I was meak, helpless and paranoid. I had a small circle of friends and no plans for the future. I had more monetary means that anyone I've met yet on the island, but as much as I sometimes say, I didn't have much to leave behind." She shrugged. "I hated the island at first. I was terrified after my first change, I was turning into the one thing that would make me hurt the mos, terrify me the most. But in the end... I came to this island willingly. I came for an experimental drug therapy. I got everything I asked for really, a bit more than I bargained...but it served its purpose." Her tone became more confident and grounded as she set her eyes back on the man. "I understand that what the doctors are doing is immoral, cruel and every bit as horrible as the islanders say. However, I also understand what purposes this research could serve, because I experienced the benefits from it. I disagree with the method of getting people here, forcing them to stay, but I can understand the value of what they are learning here. This is beyond any science mainland and they can do so much. Hell, they could find a cure for cancer with this research, let alone all the billion other problems, like my phobia. If they could harness what they learn here and focus it more it will be beneficial to all of mankind. I am begining to think I'm the only one who ever tried to see the silver lining of this place." The manta shifted her weight slowly. "I'm sorry. I know it's not right the way they're doing this. I know people have given up a lot, been through a lot, lied, cheated, and kidnapped here. I know the pain they feel, I've felt it. That's why I want to help stop it, because it hurts a lot of people. But it has helped me, and could lead to helping others. So I cannot completely hate it. It has great potential to heal...." Chert Sanders Chert listened silently throughout her small speech, although truthfully his quiet had nothing to do with any sort of consideration for Awen. Frustration seethed in his veins, so bitter that he thought he might open his mouth and spit acid, and every calm, measured word the woman spoke only intensified it. But there were no words he could grasp to express the utter contempt he felt for her rationale. "If you really believe that s**t," he hissed venemously, "You must already have the brain of a ******** fish. People who think like that are the reason crazies like Moreau get away with what they do. I don't care what his research might do for the world in the future. What he's doing right now is ******** wrong, and if you're willing to condone it, then you're no better than he is." Judging from the animosity Chert appeared to hold for Moreau, that was no small accusation. Awen Zyn "I do not condone what Moreau is doing!" She sighed, frustration breaking through her calm finally with the man. "But if this is happening then there had better be a god damn reason for it! It may be just Moreau tickling his fancy by having us as lab rats, but I can't believe that entirely. If I have to go through this... If I had to wake up in the lake and transform while I was sunk near the bottom, if I have to go through all of that there had better be a good reason for it. It may suck for me at the moment, do you think it's fun knowing that I might not be able to walk on land if I change again, do you think I enjoy the fact that I might not be able to breathe air if I change again!? This is not ******** easy for me and I'm sick of people thinking that just because I want to see the greater good in this suffering we are all going through that I'm Moreau's best friend or some s**t like that!" She was practically shouting at the man. "For ******** sake can no one even try to look on the bright side!? We're stuck here, that's how it is, so there's no ******** sense in moping and complaining about it. I try to find the good in things. Because I can't enjoy everything for much longer. I don't know when I'm going to change next, if I will. But when I do I don't want my last breaths of air to be spend bitching and complaining, or crying or shouting or anything like that. I just want to have some peace and enjoy what I can while I can." Her presence then was completely depleated. She let out a long slow breath. "If you can't understand that... then fine. You don't have to. I don't care if I'm hated or thought of as crazy anymore. I may be a freak, I may be some grotesque fish monster... but I just want to hang onto my humanity while I can. I want to experience the joys in life before I'm stuck in the lake with just that leech Billy around. I don't know why people can't understand that. But it doesn't matter. " Taking a deep breath and blinking a few tears away she looked at the man. "Now please, can you just...step aside... my skin is extremely itchy and uncomfortable... I need to get back to water..." Chert Sanders But Chert didn't budge an inch, and he didn't look as if planned to. "Life isn't always about pleasure," he grated. "Sometimes it's about doing what needs to be done. And if it turns out that all my plans fail and I'm going to drown swimming out to sea, or break my neck at the bottom of the cliffs, or get zapped until I'm braindead, then that's what's going to happen. Because any time I spend fighting against the madman that did this to me is better spent than the time I'd waste trying to pretend I was happy while turning into a goddamned RODENT." His voice had been gradually climbing, until it exploded into a full-blown shout on the last word. "Don't ******** talk to me about lab rats!" The dam that had held back all of his rage and fear at their seemingly hopeless situation was beginning to crack. The quiet gathering of people on the beach was a blow to his confidence; he'd expected Fiona's plan to fail- just not because of a lack of interest! Would he lose his drive if stayed here long enough? Would he accept the loss of his humanity with a low sigh and a few small tears? Impossible!... But the process had already begun, hadn't it? Somewhere along the line, thoughts of his friends had shifted into the past tense. Worries about his impending transformation had turned from "if" into "when." The realization terrified him, and the terror fed his desperate anger. Awen Zyn Awen's emotions, her anger and frustration, were totally spent. She looked up to him with hollow eyes. "Then keep fighting. Keep struggling and cutting yourslef on the chains. Dive off the cliffs or get electrocuted, right now I really don't care. If you want to be unhappy then be unhappy. I'm going to try to enjoy life while I have it." She didn't ask him to move again, instead she tried to make her way around him. She moved to the side slightly but still passed close to Chert. She wasn't thinking to go around at the moment. Chert Sanders "This isn't a life!" he snarled. Although the girl's emotions had collapsed back in on themselves, his resentment and animosity for the entire situation continued to stew in the pit of his stomach. But a part of his brain that was seperate from the anger was apalled at how much of his mind he was giving away to a complete stranger. Those sorts of thoughts had lived in the inside of his head since he'd arrived on the island, and they were supposed to stay there. So although he still wanted to shout, to verbally knock her out of her state of empty acceptance, he merely gritted his teeth together roughly and tilted his shoulders a small amount to enable the girl to pass reasonably unimpeded. "Go ahead and pretend it is if you want." His voice had crept back down to a reasonable level. "It's not my ******** business." Awen Zyn She paused and glanced back over her shoulder. "I admire your determination. I admire your desire to be free... If you ever want help, I will do what I can, but as for me I would be staying here. I don't want my friends to see me like this. What you don't understand, is that even should we escape the island we are still Moreau's prisoners." She looked to the woods infront of her watching the inky black further in. "If we don't get the injections until the changes are done we get sick, we could even die. I've heard talk of cancer... So even if we escape the island we will probably die for it, if he refuses to continue his research on us in a government monitored facility or somethnig like that. If we're lucky, we escape and don't get sick. For those of us already changed we don't have life back on mainland. Quarentine, and sheltered from society most likely, to prevent hysteria. Or stuck in government labs, probably in hospital gowns with a little band strapped to our wrist with our name and a barcode. I doubt anyone would want the public to know about us, and so our families would be left to believe what Moreau wanted them to and we move from one laboratory to another. So either way, no matter how we fight, there is no life left. Might as well enjoy what we have." Chert Sanders The rigid muscles of Chert's back provided her only response, a silent but very definite rejection- No, I don't buy your offer of help. No, I won't be anyone's prisoner. No, I can't believe that this is our only option. But she had intended them to or not, Awen's speculations cut deeply, for many of them were the very worries that Chert had been trying to supress. Maybe the island had stripped away even the hope of salvation on the mainland. Maybe it truly was a choice between life here or a slow death somewhere else. He didn't know. He tried to convince himself that he didn't care. Chert stalked off in the opposite direction, unwilling to acknowledge the suggestions of hopelessness that chipped away at the only plans that had kept him on his feet for the past two months. Awen was wrong. To admit anything less was to start down the long, black pathway into listless depair. Awen Zyn "I'm sorry..." She said as she started forward, walking away from Chert. She doubted he could hear as she practically whispered the words. "But I cannot allow your rufusel of reality to hurt you..." Awen really felt like being alone now. Perhaps she would just sleep in the lake tonight... people as of late seem to be irking her. They had to come to accept reality before they killed themselves trying to escape it. She had some things to discuss later with... shaking her head she pushed that from her mind. For now she focused on the water. The cool, calming, comforting...water...
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Posted: Tue Apr 25, 2006 9:15 pm
Broken Glass
This One's Going to Take a Lot More Than Bugs Chert Sanders The sun had begun to creep over the horizon by the time Chert found himself standing at the doorstep of duplex number thirty. There was a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead, and his boots were cacked in plant debris and mud. For two hours after the argument with Awen, he'd been pacing through the jungle, trying to stamp out the emotions the conversation had inspired with every heavy footstep. It had not been a leisurely walk. Chert raised his fist, hesitating a breath before he rapped on Antony's door. Memories from the last meeting reared their ugly heads, all too happy to add to the general chaos of his current thoughts. He'd meant to visit earlier, but "tomorrow" had a way of persisting, until over 10 "tomorrows" later he was wondering if she'd shoot him on sight. Damn, he thought. And then for good measure, Damn it to hell.Antoinette Devereux The squirrel woman was on her couch, watching Lethal Weapon 2 when the knock caused her to pause the DVD and push herself to her feet. She had already watched the first one, and the third and fourth of the series were sitting on the coffee table. Since she was lounging alone in her duplex, Antony was dressed in a simple lavender cami and some boyshorts that matched. Afterall, she wasn't exactly expecting any visitors. Her heartrate jumped when she saw who was through the peephole, panic slowly creeping through her body as it mixed with residual anger from how he had reacted several weeks ago. It had just been sex afterall. It took several deep breaths before she unlocked and then opened the door a crack, attempting to hide most of her behind it. "Oh look who still exists," she muttered, trying to seem angry. Maybe if he got mad he'd leave and wouldn't have to see the rest of her. Chert Sanders Chert tried to brush off a clump of mud that clung to his shirt sleeve, and succeeded in turning the speck into a long dark smudge. "Hi," he said shortly. "Busy?" Antony's greeting stung, but the fact that he deserved it dimmed his desire to retort in kind. The man pretended to scan the area around the duplexes; he wasn't eager to see what kind of expression had hold of her face at that moment. Antoinette Devereux Antony blinked, unsure of whether to let him in before he had seen her since he was looking around, so she cleared her throat and opened the door a little more. She wore a frown, but remained standing with her furry body behind the door. "Don't track in mud..." The last thing she needed was more problems, and mud all over her duplex was one she didn't want to deal with. Chert Sanders The warning attracted Chert's attention down to his less-than-spotless footwear. He stared at them blankly a moment, wondering what stretch of earth he'd wandered through that could have endowed his boots with such an impressive layer of mud. But it was a rainforest, keyword: rain. There was mud everywhere. His frown deepened as he realized that there was no way around unlacing the damn things if he wanted into Antony's duplex. A grumbled escaped his throat as he leaned down to begin the lengthy process. The manufacturer of the boots had apparently wanted to be very certain that there was no chance of the shoes getting pulled off by a giant gorilla or a pool of quicksand. Why else have so many laces? He shot a sullen glance at Antony beforing returning to the present task. His hands froze in place. His eyes darted back towards the face peering out from the crack in the door. Antoinette Devereux Despite the fact that she had been waiting for it, his startled expression caused her post transformation insecurities to boil up again. A pained look came over her albino irises as she fought to keep some sort of composure, failing miserably and simply looking hurt. And so she did the only thing she could think of, attempt to shut the door on him and hide. He had seen enough of her ugly rodentia self. Chert Sanders Chert stumbled forward and out of his awkward position. As he did so, one hand shot out reflexively, wedging itself in between the door and the frame. "Wait-!" Shock and disbelief carved deep lines across his forehead. He was imagining things- he had to be. Antoinette Devereux Luckily for him she hadn't put a lot of force into shutting the door, and the closing motion was stopped by his hand. Antony, once she had remembered that just a day or so ago she had let Billy inside her duplex, finally let the door slide open. "Don't track mud inside," she mumured shakily again, running a rather unfurry hand through her short hair, unable to look at Chert's face. Part of her could smell his feelings, and she really didn't want to see them first hand too. Chert Sanders The stupefied expression persisted for several more painful heartbeats before the man abruptly bent down and began to work at his laces again. His thoughts were still darting about like a panicked school of fish- Oh god, Antony- she...- squirrel! When?- but the gears of his defense mechanisms had started to grind into motion as soon as his mind had begun to lose a handle on the situation. Boots, first. That was a concrete problem that could be dealt with easily. After a few moments, he placed his muddy shoes by the side of the door and slipped inside. His eyes couldn't decide whether they wanted to rest on Antony's face of occupy themselves elsewhere. Chert was vaguely aware that so far he was handling the situation badly, but goddamnit- his life hadn't provided many opportunities to practice for when your friend changed into a giant squirrel. Antoinette Devereux As much as she tried not to, the squirrel woman stole a glance of his features when he stepped inside, and suddenly anger replaced her lacking self esteem. With a soft growl she slammed the door shut and locked it, narrowing her eyes down at Chert. It was only then that she noticed her large feet had given her a few inches on the grumpy man. "Go ahead. Say it," she sneered openly, attempting to mask how she was hurting with her lovely temper. Not that it was much of a stretch anyways. "I'm disgustingly ugly." Her voice cracked, but she quickly hid it by letting an irritated snarl pass by her lips. Antony was damn set on not crying in front of anyone else. Jamal had been bad enough, but she couldn't take another one of her men looking at her as if she were, well a lowly animal. Chert Sanders Antony's contempuous tone drew Chert's eyes to her face like metal filings to a magnet. He glared up at her, a little disconcerted by the new difference in height but unwilling to show it. "Bullshit," he snapped angrily, the coals of his own ire quickly sparked to life by the fires of her own. "Don't put words in my mouth." True, the structure of her face was unfamiliar now, but the cadence of her voice and, ironically, her changed eyes identified the person standing person him as Antony, without a doubt. And they'd had this argument before. He was aggravated to have it come up again... mostly because no miracle solution had magically appeared to him between then and now. How best to reassure her? It was still a mystery. All Chert was certain of was that he'd rather have her infuriated than hurt or self-conscious. Antoinette Devereux "Then tell me Brian, I'd rather hear the ******** truth then keep getting horrified looks from my friends," she crossed her arms over her chest, continuing to glare down at him. Her eye colors only accentuated how furious she looked, her front holding up well enough for now. The tails behind her twitched and moved with her mood, generally all doing the same, spastic set of motions. All of a sudden, she threw her arms up in the air, both hands rubbing over her face and then into her hair, which she messed up nervously, taking a deep breath as slowly as possible. "Just... Be honest," she murmured shakily, eyes catching his a moment before conveniently looking down at the hem of her cami, where her fingers were fidgeting. Chert Sanders The use of his real name caused Chert's eyebrows to twitch indignantly. He was about to respond with an insult he'd probably live to regret, when Antony's anger abruptly vanished into a motion that was oddly similar to the typical face-grooming behavior of a rodent. The heat had vanished from her words, which made him wonder if it had ever been truly sincere and not... Huh. He, of all people, should have picked up on it sooner. Chert's faced collapsed into a more neutral frown as he forced his frustration away. He rubbed at an imaginary itch at the nape of his neck. "Jesus Christ, Antony," he muttered. "If you leave an apple on the table and you wake up and it's a ******** orange, you're going to be surprised, alright? I just..." His voice trailed off into silence- somehow, the fruit analogy seemed inappropriate for the situation. Chert let out a short sigh, and when he spoke again, his voice was so low as to be nearly non-existant. "I'm sorry I didn't came over sooner." Antoinette Devereux Antony blinked at his analogy, teeth grinding together as she gave him a glare, mouth opening to mention that she didn't just switch bodies overnight. His sudden apology caught her off guard, and she blinked stupidly, anger suddenly gone from her features. He apologized?! Without a dead bug?! The squirrel woman continued to stand stupified as her brain attempted to process what he had just said. "You're sorry?" She finally asked, voice void of any heat whatsoever as she brought her eyes to search his face for any sort of tell, but there were none to be found. "Why?" Of course she had to know. If he could apologize, then he could explain as well. Chert Sanders Chert looked affronted at the questions. In his mind, they were less incredulous and more disbelieving, as if she were unconvinced of his sincerity. "What do you mean 'why?'" he huffed, folding his arms back into their customary position. He'd said it. He'd meant it. End of story. No explanation pending. Antoinette Devereux "Why should you have come sooner," she said simply, tails finally relaxing a bit more and pulling against her back, tips flicking every so often. "If you had, then you could have seen this-" she motioned to herself, "-happen." Though she was sure he definately didn't want to do that anytime soon. After a bit, Antony moved to sit down on the nearby couch, wrapping her arms around her waist in a comforting motion. Chert Sanders His eyes tightened at the mention of the transformation- it was impossible to pretend that the thought of witnessing it wasn't disturbing- but he couldn't shake the sharp feeling of guilt that weighed down on his shoulders. "I still should have been here," he muttered, trailing behind her to the couch. Right, because two freak attacks are always better than one, a small voice in his head sneered. This is what happens when you get involved with other people.Chert ignored it and sat down heavily beside Antony, resting his forearms on the tops of his thighs. Antoinette Devereux Despite the fact that he still didn't answer her question, his muttering and the fact that he had voluntarily seated himself next to her. After a long, awkward silence, Antony unwrapped her arms from around her waist, cautiously slipping the one closest to him between his own. She carefully took his hand and gave it a squeeze as a sort of show of good faith, or something like that. With a deep breath and her eyes still foreword, she cleared her throat softly. "I just... Well... I don't feel... Like myself anymore," she stuttered, having a hard time getting the words out for some reason. Antony ran her other hand roughly over her face and through her shortened hair, wiping away any moisture that would possibly show any more weakness. Chert Sanders Chert looked at once worried and encouraged by the gesture. His thumb ran lightly over the tips of her claws as his mouth tugged to the side in an expression that rested somewhere between a lop-sided frown and a faint smile. "True, you didn't knee me right away," he huffed softly, placing his remaining free hand hesitantly atop hers. "But you still sound like you. You still move like you." Antoinette Devereux Antony let the corners of her lips twitch upwards when he didn't flinch away from her, but instead put his other hand ontop of hers. Usually physical contact like this was something she avoided at all costs, but right now she didn't care. He wasn't fleeing, and if he tried to she had a good enough grip on him to yank him back to hit him. Or something. She shrugged off his kneeing comment, attempting to chuckle softly, "But I still feel horrid..." Jamal, who was supposed to be her safety net, wasn't even attracted to her anymore. Damned Kaveri. "And that's not me..." Part of her felt extremely self-conscious that Chert was still completely normal and was getting a sort of glimpse into his future in Rodentia. The other part of her was angry at herself for still feeling this way because truly it wasn't like her to be weak. "I miss my tattoos," she said randomly as her eyes moved to her chest, frown forming at her lips. "And the goddamn fur! I hate it! Even previous to all this s**t I hated being hairy. Period. But now I have no choice!" Sighing roughly after her mini rant, she slumped her shoulders, "I guess I should be happy it's not black and coarse." Absently, she shuddered, being at least a wee bit thankful that the fur was rather fine and soft. Chert Sanders But I still feel horrid...Chert merely grunted at the comment, having exhausted his admittedly miniscule supply of support with his last two verbal reassurances. The problem with being a pessimist was that it meant you were rather ill-suited to play the role of comforter. He was of the opinion that many of the world's people often tended to feel horrible because, by and large, the world people had made tended to fairly a horrible place. So he lost as to what he could say because he was unsure of how she'd avoided coming that conclusion already. Her tattoos were an unfortunate casuality of her change. Their complexity and bold colors had been pleasing, although Chert had never gotten around to actually telling Antony that directly. Bringing it up would just be throwing salt in the wounds, now. His fingers twitched slightly beneath her hands as he listened to her talk about the fur and tried not to think about how he'd be joining the club soon enough. Although an unfamiliar urge prodded the man into trying to be sympathetic, it had to fight against that natural tendency towards solitude. Through some miracle he was speaking in a rational tone, but there was an uncomfortable sense that any smile he gave her was liable to turn into a panicked rictus, and a part of him desperately wanted to bolt. It was a probably a good thing Antony had a firm grip on his hands. Chert shuddered with her at the mention of the coarse fur. "Huh, thank you for that image." And then, after a short pause- "... When did it happen?" Antoinette Devereux "Oh shut up," she snapped when he commented on the mental image, "At least you didn't have to see it... Feel it..." Her extra tails flicked and acted proud of their existance when they were generally referred to, but Antony chose to pay them no attention. Either way it had happened and Rex had had the luxury of having a front row seat to said transformation. All of a sudden, Antony abruptly released his hand and disappeared into her bedroom almost immediately. She needed a smoke. After a bit of rummaging and the sound of her lighter flipping open, she returned with a lit cigarette dangling between her fingers as she blew out a cloud from her lips. "It happened a week or so ago," she murmured, relaxing somewhat thanks to the nicotine seeping into her bloodstream. Oh thank the Native Americans for cigarettes, or rather tobacco but that didn't really matter to the squirrel woman. Out of consideration she remained standing and a good distance away from him, maybe that would make him more comfortable to not be touching her. The animal inside her could smell his urge to run, and that was partly why she needed a smoke so bad. If he wanted to run, the squirrel figured that it should be running as well. Another drag of her cig and she looked as if she had calmed visibly, though her eyes still contained a sort of sadness that was unlike the usually confident woman. "You want to run," she stated absently, frowning somewhat before sighing, "But you haven't." Obivious statement, but somehow it felt like what should be said. It was possibly a 'thank you' as well. Chert Sanders Chert looked after Antony, a hint of puzzlement creeping into his frown at her abrupt depature. The harsh odor of smoke that followed her back into the room cleared up his questions, though. It wasn't a scent he was overly fond of, mostly because of its tendency to cling tenaciously to whatever surface it came in contact with (pants, shirts, hair, breath- take your pick) but he didn't begrudge her the cigarette, considering the circumstances. Ironically, it was the offhand observation that he wanted to run that pushed him over the edge and made the desire too acute to ignore. Was he that transparent? Maybe Awen's infuriating prodding had poked a hole somewhere, and he was leaking feelings like an old car leaked antifreeze. Christ! He wanted to shove the world back a step and tell it to stay the hell where it was. To stop jabbing at the walls he depended on. Chert rose to his feet, dragging his fingers through his hair in an effort to prevent his hands from clenching into fists. But before he could go, the indirect thank you had to be answered. "Listen-" he said. Strain made the words rough and clipped. "Six tails or not, you're the least insane out of all the people I've met on this damned rock." The sentence that came after was lost in an incomprehensible growl as Chert made for the door. Antoinette Devereux She continued to smoke regardless of the looks he gave her. It was her duplex and she could smoke if she wanted to, and right now she simply needed to smoke. Period. When he stood up, Antony tensed somewhat, immediately noticing his change in mood. It was strange how she seemed to be able to 'sense' peoples' moods and feelings now, almost like a sixth sense. One of the few positive things that the change had brought. Without the heart to correct him on the number of tails she currently had, Antony stepped to the side so that she was blocking his way out. "You're still going to run?" She asked softly as she tried to keep the pain out of her eyes. Though she was appreciative of the hidden thanks, the squirrel woman couldn't help but feel insulted when he attempted to flee the apartment as if it were on fire. Chert Sanders Chert stopped short, his mouth twisted into a snarl of frustration. "What the hell else do you want me to do?" He'd given her what reassurances he had. He'd told her she was a friend, in his own round-about manner. He'd apologized. There wasn't anything else he owed her! At least, that's how Chert rationalized it on the surface. In reality, though, he was frightened- frightened at the physical reality of Antony's transformation. By how much her pain hurt him, and by how helpless he was to fix any part of the situation. So even though a part of him recognized the action as selfish, retreat still appeared to be the best course of action. Solitude might not erase problems, but it did certainly dull the aches they caused. He didn't have anything else to offer Antony, anyway. Antoinette Devereux The sudden snarl startled her and she abruptly closed her eye, looking away and towards the floor as she stepped aside. "Go," she whispered quietly. After all, Jamal had already replaced her, what's another one of her friends being disgusted by how she looked? Though she wasn't going to admit how hurt she was, it was evident in her body language. It seemed as if she'd given up, slouched somewhat under the weight of guilt. Antony didn't stand there long, not really wanting to be seen anymore, especially when he was practically oozing fear. She could smell it at least. Again, she wrapped her arms around her stomach to comfort herself as she made her way to her bed, which the squirrel considered its nest of sorts. "I won't scare you anymore," she grunted back at him despite the fact that she couldn't see his reaction, attempting to put up some sort of defenses. However, those even seemed to be shoddy at best. Chert Sanders Chert flinched and hunched his shoulders as if the quiet words of parting had been a physical blow. Self-reproach sat at the pit of his stomach like a pile of broken glass, shredding his insides into useless tatters. He wanted to turn around and tell her that she didn't scare him, at least not in the way she thought she did, but the sting of her passive acceptance killed the words on his tongue. You're worthless, the unforgiving part of his mind told him. You can't do anything for her. There's a reason you don't get involved with people, remember? Just do what you always do, and run away.He walked out, slamming the door shut a little more forcefully than he intended. For once, the promising green of the jungle that sat waiting beyond the town failed to be soothing at all.
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Posted: Mon May 01, 2006 2:48 pm
No Man Is An Island
But His Head Can Be Stuffed With Rocks The waves threw themselves against the cliffs, battering at the solid rock ineffectually before sliding back down in defeat, only to rise again with a roar a few moments later. Chert leaned against a nearby boulder and let the white noise of the water take the edge off of the tangle of black thoughts that bit at his mind. Maybe if I have a few thousands years, I can just let erosion do all the dirty work, he thought wryly. The natural force would eventually wipe the island from the face of the earth more effectively than any man made technique ever could. Get your a** in gear, Mother Nature. The notion would have been more entertaining if it hadn't been accompanied by an image of Chert's freakish half-animal bones being unearthed as the soil leaked back into the sea. He grumbled under his breath and looked out over the ocean. The waves reflected the sun in one long, brilliant ribbon that stretched right up to the horizon and over the edge of the world, but the beauty of the scenery was lost to the snarl of worry and unease. Even though the fiasco at Antony's had occured some days ago, the cloud of guilt surrounding the whole matter hadn't lessened at all, and the memories still made him wish that the earth would open up and swallow him... Huh. Maybe if waited a couple thousand years. It was just... He hadn't expected to be so goddamned weak. Since when was it common practice to turn tail and flee in the face of a difficult situation like a Southern bell whose delicate constitution had been upset? Since meeting Antony, apparently. The troubles she stirred up were of a completely different species than the ones Chert was accustomed to dealing with, and he'd been running from them since the first time they'd met. It was really no surprise he'd fled a few days ago. Everyone else he knew was content to meet Chert on his own terms, which were basically, "Don't talk to me unless I want to be talked to. Don't touch me unless I want to be touched. And don't ******** push me." Up until this point, that had been perfectly fine, since he was willing to follow the same rules in regard to other people... but Antony wasn't satisfied with that. She wanted past all the walls and the barricades and the other flowery metaphors used to describe the ornery defense mechanisms used to keep the world out, and God help him- he'd let her. The problem stemmed from the fact that after relying on the support of those barriers for most of his life, it was difficult to support thought or action without them. There had been nothing between him and the deep wells of hurt in Antony's eyes. It was like standing naked in a sandstorm while the winds abraded your skin mercilessly, and there wasn't a damn thing you could do about it. You couldn't stop the sandstorm itself, after all. And for some unknowable reason, you'd decided that a stroll through the desert didn't neccessitate clothing. So what else was there to do but retreat to a place where the winds couldn't reach you so easily? You could have stayed, drama queen.Chert scowled as the answer surfaced from his mind, unbidden. He wasn't exactly a spring of optimism and goodwill. More like a muddy stream of fatalism and regret- not the sort of person that was handy to have in an emotional crisis. His presence wouldn't have solved anything, especially since he'd been helpless to hide his not insignificant amount of dismay at finding out the only person he talked to willing on the island had transformed into an oversized, multi-tailed rodent. But that was the reality of the situation, wasn't it? Everyone on this cursed rock was fated for the same long, painful fall from humanity into another species, another genus, another family- hell, even another kingdom, in some cases. So long, Homo sapiens ! It was a fantastic visit, while it lasted. I'll always carry the memory of opposable thumbs close to my heart. ******** that. Chert wasn't sure what illusions he was entertaining, to think getting attached to people on the island was in any way a good idea. Watching someone sprout horns, or grow fur, have their ears moves a couple of inches up their head was only tolerable if it wasn't your problem. The horrible thing about the labs was that once you dropped your defenses and began to let people in, you let in all the twisted horrors of the island, too. In Chert's mind, there was only one obvious solution. The knowledge left him feeling strangely hollow- but hollow, at least, was something he was accustomed to dealing with.
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Posted: Fri May 05, 2006 2:58 pm
Wherabouts Chert would probably be doing his best to avoid to avoid any unexpected encounters with the other islanders. He tends to spend a large portion of his day out in the wilderness, although the dark, thick heart of the jungle is a tad too claustrophic for the likes of him. The rockier portions of the shore, the rivers, or the mountain are favored areas. Visits to the cafeteria are usually made after midnight, when there's less chance of people being out and about. He usually makes it a point to return to his duplex at some point during the night (or more accurately, the wee hours of the morning) to sleep there, his initial stubborn refusal to stay away and let Aubrey "win" having turned into a mostly empty habit. Troubled, frustrated, and almost terminally bored, it's unlikely that he'd be able to sleep at all that night. Instead, Chert would probably raid the trusty toolshed and do some exploratory work on his walls and ceiling with the clawed side of a hammer just to see what would happen. Apart from that, however, he wouldn't deviate much from his usual routine in the next few days.
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Posted: Sun May 07, 2006 12:47 am
Reserved for secret PM. O:
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Posted: Sun May 07, 2006 1:33 am
The storm attacked the island as if it had taken personal offense to the existence of the small land body, spitting out sheets of thick rain and raking at the air with bolts of electricity in a helpless rage. It tore hunks of vegetation from the towering trees and flung them into the air, whipped the crests of the waves into frothy white foam, turned the sky dark and surly. There were several kinds of weather good for taking a walk in, but this quite failed to make the list.
Chert had tried to make his usual rounds, anyway, and had been repelled by the heavy rains and unforgiving winds. He'd only been out a few minutes, but he was completely soaked by the time he returned to his duplex. "******** weather," he muttered, cursing atmospheric conditions at large.
And then, just as he'd finished removing the first sodden boot, the room had gone dark. His heart beat painfully fast as he listened to the roaring thunder in the room that suddenly seemed very silent and small. What happened? The power... Maybe this is it! The opportunity- But the lights flickered back to life minutes later, mocking his hope into nonexistence with their dim glow. Chert cried out in frustration and chucked at shoe at the wall.
He was sitting in the chair he'd dragged to the window for a better view of the storm, one elbow propped up on the window frame, when a gigantic flash of lightning drowned the room in shadows once more. This time though, a sense of caution overwhelmed everything else, knitting his brow into a dark frown. The man didn't move from his seat. "******** island," he said to the uncaring black treeline that squatted a short distance away.
Later, he was surprised to wake up by the window, as he didn't even remember falling asleep in the first place. The yellowish, artificial lights blazed merrily in victory, as if they'd conveniently forgotten that they'd been cowed into submission by the wild white bite of the lightning just a few hours ago. Chert sneered at them blearily and rubbed at the back of his neck, which tingled as if he had a thousand tiny ants biting at his nerve endings. He had just enough time to get up, stretch out his complaining limbs, and begin to head for the shower before one last bolt of electricity exploded in the back of his neck and seized every one of his muscles in a merciless, excruciating grip. As he tipped forward onto the floor, his last thought was, Why did I even bother waking up?
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Posted: Sun May 07, 2006 1:37 am
[ Message temporarily off-line ]
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Posted: Mon May 08, 2006 3:54 am
Up To No Good
Take a Breathmint, Plz! Chert Sanders Chert awoke all at once in a rush of panic and revulsion. The last, lingering wisps of his dream mixed together unpleasantly with the memories the sting of the chip in the back of his neck brought to life, and the combination caused his skin to shiver slightly, as if it were considering crawling off of his bones. He needed a shower. Some time later, the message from Moreau had blared out into the air like an accusation from an angry god. Bring me the guilty party, or else you'll all suffer for this... The annoucement drew Chert outside, but not for a particularly noble cause. The knowledge that Aubrey's life hung by a thread brought him a certain amount of satisfaction. True, he felt guilty at the heartless reaction... but not quite guilty enough to help the bastards that had created this hellhole. Rather, Chert was curious to see the results of last night's storm. His search path stuck closely to the duplexes, but ranged a short distance into the jungle, for who knew what interesting things might be lurking just behind the silent wall of greenery? Nothing he wanted to find, as it turned out. The sizeable splotch of crisp red against the cool tones of the vegetation stopped him in his tracks and caused the warning bells in his head to clamor loudly. Not part of the usual jungle, one part of his mind said with finality, which was enough to inspire caution all on its own. But the other was uneasily reminded of a terse conversation atop a fallen tree... Zachary Bloodstone Zach didn't get far from Chubbs and Amaya before his aching muscles had given up on him. Still in too much of a confused panic to really think about what was going on, sleep seemed like a good idea. Perhaps he'd get enough energy back to make it to his duplex and the shower he so desperately wanted. There was blood on him. The blood was all over him. Thankfully, his thoughts soon slipped away. He slept through the sounds of the jungle as they slowly grew to their normal volume of chittering and chirping. He also slept through a very important announcement that was blared across the island through hidden speakerphones. His yellow eyes only opened much later, when the sound of a nearby person interrupted his dreamless sleep. Realizing he was lying on his stomach once again, he pulled himself up from the wet mud with both aching arms - a concept he was still having difficulty grasping - and tried to sit properly, his tail moving to better accomodate such a position. He leapt to his feet with a yelp. Evidently he'd grown even more biological bells and whistles - he hadn't even realized the existence of the scaly fins down there until they started protesting violently to being crushed under the weight of the tail they grew from. Swaying dizzily from the sudden movement, he looked around for the big brown bearlike man he was certain was going to kill him. Instead, he saw Chert. His expression immediately went from fear to relief, but it didn't last long. It took him just five seconds too long to glance down and re-realize the blood on himself. Chert Sanders Chert wasn't sure whether to be more startled by the blood that was caked to Zach's skin and clothing, or the changes that had shoved the man yet another step away from humanity. A new arm had replaced the sad stump since their last meeting, but it was covered in thick scales like the plated armor of a knight, and ended in what Chert felt was an unfortunate number of cruelly pointed claws. The only bit of good news seemed to be that the empty, ravenous look was absent in Zach's eyes... for the moment, anyway. "Been up to no good, Red?" the biologist inquired. His voice was more cautious than accusatory, but his mind was sorting rapidly through the situation. The blood could have come from anywhere, though after the earlier announcement it appeared doubly suspcious. Zachary Bloodstone Zach's tail curled a little, throbbing still from the minimally subsiding pain that had his whole body, both old parts and new growths, in its grip. It dawned on him that he was still extremely hungry. Whatever - or whoever - the blood in his mouth had come from had not been nearly enough to satiate him after his transformation. He wasn't sure he wanted to know where it came from. He raised his right hand to scratch at the strange divide between scale and skin at the base of his left arm. "If I have," he sighed wearily, trying to ignore the nickname, "I don't recall it." He followed Chert's gaze and frowned. "I'm surprised you don't have... blood... on you either - I was getting the impression everyone did." Chert Sanders Chert raised his eyebrows at Zach's claim. "I just spent the last little while facedown on the goddamned floor," he snorted. It rankled that he'd been buzzed for no discernbile reason- maybe it had been a byproduct of the strange power outage, and maybe not. "Then I wake up to the first bit of good news I've heard in awhile. You're telling me you don't remember anything?" One hand gestured to the rust-colored smear around Zach's mouth, but despite the mention of 'good news,' the motion was accompanied by a small flicker of disgust in Chert's eyes. Answers would be nice. Staying on the outside of someone else's digestive system would be, too. The small seed of understand that had been planted at their last meeting was squashed flat by the inescapable fact that there was blood on Zach's face, and it didn't appear to be his. How safe was it to stay put? Zachary Bloodstone "Not much different, except my floor happened to be the inside of a cave. God, now that you mention it... I really don't remember anything. Well..." He looked faraway for a moment, a sudden darkness crossing his expression. Shaking his head, his odd fanlike ears twitched a little. "Nothing that seems to make sense, anyway." He rolled his eyes, trying to maintain some sort of calm. "Don't look at me like that. I don't know where this blood came from! And neither did that furry brown psychopath. He had some all over him too." "So, what's the good news?" he asked, figuring there had been some sarcasm he'd missed. Two could play at that game. "We're going to get rescued by a combination of PETA fanatics and the United Nations?" Chert Sanders Chert's lips curved upwards in a humorless grin as he shrugged a careless shoulder. "Didn't mean nothin' by it; sometimes I forget what I had for breakfast, too." Poking at the lizard man probably wasn't the most intelligent action in the universe, but after the confusion of the recent events it was difficult to practice self-restraint, and Zach's vague claims of partial memory seemed dubious, at best. The ambiguity chafed. It didn't answer any of his old questions- it just raised more. "You're telling me you don't consider the injury of that red-headed harpy 'good news?'" Chert asked, giving Zach a sidelong glance. Zachary Bloodstone "Come on!" he pleaded, looking hurt by the unspoken accusation. All this madness was grating on him, wearing him out, and making him desperate. This was insane. It had to have been that brown furry guy. "I didn't do anything! You have to believe me!" He blinked, obviously not up to speed. "Huh? Nita? I thought she was a little naive, but there's no reason to celebrate her getting hurt..." Chert Sanders The plea didn't appear to have much effect on the man, whose expression remained mistrustful and cautious (but then again... his features rarely deviated from that configuration). "Who the hell is Nita?" Chert demanded impatiently. "I'm talking about Aubrey. Don't tell me you slept through the announcement." Zachary Bloodstone "Oh, Aubrey. That is good news, I guess. One less doctor to antagonize us... What did she do, trip on her own ego?" He didn't look very surprised to hear she'd been hurt. "Announcement?" he questioned, the beginnings of his wings flexing themselves painfully. The haziness of waking up had given way to a strange sharpness about everything he sensed, including the aching emmanating from all his muscles. "Guess so. This is crazy. I mean, I heard a few people talking about some 'lockout' before we ever arrived on the island. If the duplexes are locked..." His headache was too fierce to give him the chance to make the connections he should have. Chert Sanders Genuine amusement flitted briefly across Chert's face before it was swallowed again by the customary frown, there and gone so quickly it might have been an illusion caused by the dappled shade of the jungle. Zach's conjecture drew a derogatory snort from the mean. "Still half-asleep, I see," he said, but moved on without explaining further. "Moreau broadcast the message over the loudspeakers. It was a 'bring me the head of the infidel or you'll all suffer' sort of thing. Might behoove you to bathe, innocent or not." Zachary Bloodstone "Hah. I must still be dreaming or something. Everything about this is just... well I can't say impossible, I've spent a month and a half sharing my DNA with seven animals. But, I mean, first of all, there's no way I really have two arms." He punctuated the statement with a nervous laugh. With admirable speed, his brain chose to stop thinking about the possibility that all around him was no nightmare at all. "For what, though? Jamal attacked her before. If anyone attacked Aubrey, it had to have been Ja-" He stopped, uncertain. Chert's pointed suggestion was enough to get things to fall into place in his brain. His eyes went wide, revealing that the previously white orbs had gone yellow all over. Rapidly he spluttered something that started out a mumbling of quick and gibberish-like sounds and ended with another loud plea of innocence. "Oh my god... this isn't what it looks like at all! There was this furry guy who also had blood on him, and he almost killed me! I don't... but- but I didn't do anything to Aubrey!" One would say he looked about ready to cry if his fearful gaze was not marred by the strangeness of his almost unreadable eyes. Chert Sanders Chert blinked, a little disconcerted at the sudden change in Zach's demeanor. A part of him was also irrationally irritated at the loss of composure. "Look," he said flatly. "The way I see it, it was inevitable. Call it karma, call it one of the pitfalls of overconfidence, call it whatever you want. Something like this was bound to happen. I don't really care who did it- but I want to know how." He shrugged again, shoving his hands into his pockets. "If you didn't do it, point me in the direction of a more likely suspect." Zachary Bloodstone "Uh, god, I don't know... I don't know..." Zach invoked some nameless higher power as he vented his frustrations. He tapped the fingers of his right hand against a tree in an irregular beat. He'd been feeling uneasy but this was just ridiculous. He had to shove Adeline out of his thoughts. She was a distraction, a perfect example of the dead coming back to haunt when disturbed by change. Growing a new arm apparently was just enough to release his guilt-ridden inner demons. "I suppose Jamal, or really the furry guy I saw before. They're both dangerous people. I don't know a thing about what's going on though. I don't even know what the announcement actually said! This is... this is too much for me. I'm going to go take that shower... now..." His expression was once more one of intense contemplation. He glacned up at the mountain for reference, then walked almost deliberately past Chert in the direction of the village. As he did so, he muttered something that seemed to make sense only to himself, gripping at his scale-plated left shoulder as if it were prone to disappear with the slightest breeze. Worst of all, there was blood heavy on his breath, which would probably be noticable in such a close proximity. "What would Adeline think...?" Chert Sanders That you're in dire need of a mint, Chert grumped silently. When he'd asked Zach to point him in the direction of a different person, he'd been hoping to recieve, well... a direction. But he grudgingly admitted that maybe Zach had a reason to be a little vague and scattered... And at least the meeting had ended without incident. He shook his head as if to clear it and cast out deeper into the jungle, eager to put some distance between the lizard man and himself despite the uneventful meeting. The rotten stench of blood that wafted up from Zach's throat suggested to Chert that it was best not to push his luck. Who the hell is Adeline? he wondered irritably as he trudged through the dense undergrowth and away from the village. If a rogue islander would be anywhere, they'd probably be a good distance away from civilization and the incriminations of society.
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Posted: Tue May 09, 2006 3:44 pm
A Chance Encounter
It's Like Trying to Pry Teeth Out of a Boulder James Brodstrom Meanwhile James camped out in the forest. Those years of survival training in the military had served him well. Right now, he wanted to be as far away from Moreau's cronies as possible. He had his jacket off, it layed in a heap beside him. His shirt was a bit torn as well, with a few visible wounds showing through. He cursed to himself, his knife would have made this so much easier. He cooked the eggs he'd found in a tree over the fire. He really hoped these weren't some islander's children. In this crazy place who knew? Chert Sanders Chert slogged through the jungle, grumbling at the dense vegetation, the pesistent insects, and his general lack of a clue. In what brief flash of stupidity had he decided to search out anyone in this place, let alone someone who had good reason to stay out of sight? He was just about to reverse his direction and head back to the duplexes when the faint scent of woodsmoke caught his attention. I'll be damned, Chert thought wryly. It might not be the person he was looking for, but it was someone. Without a sensitive nose or heightened hearing, finding the spot turned out to be a trick, but Chert found it after a little wandering about. His approach wouldn't have been particularly silent as he approached the glimmer of the small fire- hiking boots left something to be desired in the stealth department. James Brodstrom James heard Chert long before he got too close. "Who's there?" he said and quickly grabbed up a stick. He spun around and moved his back to a tree. Looking in the direction of the noise. "What the ******** do you want?" he asked with his deep, booming voice. Chert Sanders James' voice rang through the greenery, as resonant and deep as funeral bells ( Hopefully not mine, Chert thought). He called out his name in response, although it occured to him that the simple words probably didn't mean much at all to a complete stranger. The biologist's stocky frame came into view a few seconds behind his voice. "Nothing in particular," he said, turquoise eyes silently assessing the larger man. A memory from what felt like a lifetime ago twisted in his gut and turned his stare steely. The helicopter pilot! When he spoke again, Chert's voice was dark with ill-restrained hostility. "Kind of a shitty place for a camping trip, isn't it?" James Brodstrom "Yeah, well... it wasn't my idea." he sat back down. He didn't really consider Chert a threat. Chert was still human, suprised after this long too. He figured Moreau would have enjoyed that far too much, still Moreau had bigger things to deal with now. "Would you like some eggs or should I keep holding onto this stick." He asked bluntly. It was an honest question. Chert Sanders Chert glared at the eggs, then at James. "No," he growled, wondering if the offering was some kind of joke. His stomach gurgled in protest at the decision- in all the excitement, Chert had quite forgotten to eat- but his pride wouldn't allow him to take a thing from the man that had flown him to this miserable hellhole. "What're you doing out here?" he asked flatly, responding the James' bluntness in kind. James Brodstrom "I figured it was better than staying in the village." James answered with a bit of unexplained bluntness. He proceeded to eat his eggs, very fast. Another happenstance of military time. As he woofed them down he said. "What brings you all the way out here?""Business or personal?" he grinned as he said. Chert Sanders "It's all personal, these days," Chert said with a faint grimace. "I'm looking for someone." James Brodstrom Who you looking for?" James asked. As if he didn't already know. It was worth asking though. Chert Sanders Chert folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the smooth bark of a tree. One corner of his mouth twisted downwards slightly. "I'm not really sure. Could be I've found him." It was an empty dig, borne mostly out of frustration at James' impenetrable stoicism. James Brodstrom "Really now? Somehow I doubt you were looking for me. Most people don't even know I'm here." James wasn't really bluffed by Chert's attempt to sound cocky. He stood up, brushing his pants off. "Your looking for Moreau's suspect aren't you? Worried what he'll do if no one finds him... or her?" Chert Sanders A muscle in Chert's jaw jumped at the question, as if straining to hold back his initial response. "I'm looking for 'em, but not as Nick's bloodhound," he said after a moment, sneering faintly. The expression suggested that whatever his reasons for joining the man hunt, they had little to do with Moreau's ominous promise of punishment (now, whether it at all wise to discount the threat so readily was another story altogether). "What about yourself? Did he stick you out here to help, or does he just dislike you?" One hand gestured briefly at James' torn attire. Out of all the places the helicopter pilot might appear, the jungle seemed one of the least likely. And judging from his appearance, he'd been having a hard time of it, too. James Brodstrom James hit the stick against the ground and then dropped it. "I'm not exactly on his good list..." he shrugged. Making it fairly obvious he wasn't a person who went into details. The jacket sitting next to him, when you get closer to it you notice that it appears to have blood on it, reflecting in the light even on the black fabric. It also appears to be a bit torn. Chert Sanders Chert rolled the statement around in his head for a moment before cautiously emerging the rest of the way from the vegetation. While he wasn't quite ready to banish his anger, the fact that James seemed to have lost favor in Moreau's eyes made him just a tad more trustworthy in Chert's. "Welcome to the club," he said. His eyes regarded the fluid-stained jacket with interest. "Ran into a bit of trouble along the way?" he persisted, trying not to let his impatience get the best of him. Chert had never been very good at murder mysteries. Maybe it was Colonel Custard in the study with a candle stick, maybe it was Miss Violet- why not stop wandering around the mansion aimlessly and apply a little force in the form of a fist until someone started answering questions? Somehow though, regarding the chisled bulk of the other man, Chert got the feeling that wasn't such a hot idea. James Brodstrom "Yeah, just a bit of trouble out here... nothing I didn't handle." James shrugged. From the wounds evident on James it was clear about one thing. Most of that blood wasn't James'. "Not disliking me so much now that you know that I'm not the boss-man's pet dog eh?" James laughed, it was a deep and hearty laugh. Chert Sanders The sudden laughter was startling, and if they had been able, Chert's ears would have folded against his head in uncertainty. Despite the circumstances, he was surprised to find that if he didn't exactly like the man, he didn't hate him entirely. "Forgive me my preconceptions-" Chert said sarcastically, "-but what else would I think you were, carting innocent people to this place?" James Brodstrom "Well, sometimes people have reasons for the things they do." he shrugged. "You don't have to like someone to work for them. Or like something you do to end up in a position where you do it." James left it there. It was good to talk to someone, but he really didn't want to admit that to anyone. James had gotten used to being a loner. Chert Sanders Chert snorted, understanding the explanation but unwilling to accept it. "Whether you enjoyed it or not, you played your part." An eyebrow twitched. "Was I the first islander to happen across you?" It wouldn't have surprised him if the answer had been 'no' - some people might have been able and glad to demonstrate their unhappiness with their former pilot through physical means, although they'd apparently hadn't come out of the encounter on top. James Brodstrom "I'm not sure about that answer." James shrugged his shoulders. "But what about you? Suprised to see your still human. I figured from what I knew of the situation that you'd be like a snail or something by now." Chert Sanders "Hell if I know," Chert said tersely. It was obvious that he wasn't eager to elaborate upon the matter, although it was a worry he'd been privately obsessing over for some weeks. Moreau could simply be toying with him. Or something might actually be wrong... His thoughts strayed briefly to memories full of the sickly sweet scent of decay and tortured forms squatting at the bottoms of their cages, but Chert wrenched them back to the present almost immediately. James Brodstrom James felt a moment of... regret. "Sorry you got brought into all this." he said. Fairly content to leave it at that. James almost never said he was sorry for the things he did, not outloud anyway. It wasn't in his training. Chert Sanders An apology? Chert regarded the other man steadily for a long moment, deliberate thoughts swimming slowly behind his turquoise eyes, before giving a shrug of acknowledgement. "Maybe back up your words with some action if you ever get another opportunity, and we'll call it even." James Brodstrom James chuckled "Don't see that happening, Moreau has me by the balls. I don't see that changing anytime soon." James gave Chert a dirty look "Don't ever tell anyone I said that." James couldn't afford to loose his tough guy image, it was too much of who he was. Chert Sanders "And just who would I tell?" Chert inquired, gesturing to the jungle at large with a tilt of his head. "The mad scientists? The science experiments?" His tone was darkly amused. James Brodstrom "Doesn't matter. I just can't believe he pulled this crap." James stood up. "Well, I'm off... I'd rather not get into this right now." He offered a burly hand to Chert. It was his idea of a friendly gesture atleast. Chert Sanders Chert gripped the hand firmly after a barely perceptible moment's hesitation. It wouldn't exactly be truthful to say it had been a pleasure- the day had started off unpleasant and had never quite recovered- so he said, "Steer clear of any red lizards or hulking hairy things. Guilt or not, they're off their rockers," by way of farewell. James Brodstrom "I know all about that" he grinned and gathering up his stuff, headed deeper into the jungle. James smiled a bit as he walked off, it was nice to have talked to someone. Even if only a bit.
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Posted: Tue May 09, 2006 11:42 pm
There's More Than One Way to Solve a Mystery
(This Isn't One of Them) Chert Sanders Chert stood and stared at blank, unforgiving face of the duplex as he had several times before. These were beginning to be very familiar walls, indeed. I'm just here for a moment, he thought. I'll leave as soon as I know she's alright, he thought. If only there were some way to do that without actually having to knock on the door. After several moments of reflection, during which no miraculous alternative appeared, he finally gave in and announced his presence. Antoinette Devereux "Coming," a voice yelled from the other side of said door. It took longer than usual due to her crutches, but she eventually arrived there. One look out the peephole made her frown. Despite her doubts, she opened the door anyways, hopping back a bit so the door could swing inside. Though she kept silent, Antony gave him a pointed look to explain what was going on. Part of her was relieved to see him safe, however. Chert Sanders Chert scratched at a forearm in agitation, wondering if she'd seen him and decided not to bother, after all. But then the door swung open and revealed the squirrel woman, still slightly taller and a good bit furrier. Her silent demand for information was lost upon him, as his eyes had already flickered over the crutches and darted down to lock onto the object wrapped around her leg. "Antony," he said stupidly. "Your leg's broken." Antoinette Devereux Antony returned his stupid look as she tried to decide if she should smack him upside the head with one of her crutches. "No really? Thanks for telling me, I didn't know." Her sarcasm had a bite to it, and she glared at him for a moment before finally speaking again, "Yes, I'm still changed too. Anything else?" God Chert was dense. Chert Sanders Antony's acerbic tone dissolved the blank look of surprise on Chert's face, which was replaced by a dark scowl. "What happened?" he demanded, his words nearly accusatory, as if the broken limb had been something she had endeavored to obtain. Far in the back of his head a small voice threw up its hands in dismay- you're off to a wonderful start there, champ. But Chert was worried, and like any emotion he wasn't quite sure how to handle, it found its outlet in his well-developed sense of outrage. Antoinette Devereux "Oh, -now- you care," she sneered, pushing the door open all the way in case he wanted to come in. Though, the squirrel woman made sure to glare pointedly at his muddy boots just like the last time. They had to come off before he came inside. Her tails behind her twitched in irritation as she crutched backwards just enough so she could lean against the wall and effectively cross her arms over her chest. "Someone that wanted to eat me chased me up a tree, and I fell when I tried to get away." Why she told him most of the story Antony didn't know, but maybe it would make him feel worse to know that she was attacked. Chert Sanders "Like hell," Chert scoffed automatically in response to her sneer, although there was a flicker of something indefinable behind his eyes. Despite the sullen assertion, however, his next question after hearing of Antony's misadventure was, "Who?" He had yet to make any move towards the inside of her duplex, caught uncomfortably between the determination to follow his original plan of action and the desire to find out more about the situation. It was quite possible he'd be content to stand outside making terse inquiries until she shut the door in his face. Antoinette Devereux She gave him a long hard look before turning to crutch back inside, muttering Jamal's name over her shoulder. He may be content to stand there all day, but she had had enough of standing. Her broken leg especially. "My leg's bothering me so either come in and shut the door or just run away again like you probably want to." Spiteful? Not at all. Sitting down as carefully as possible, Antony propped her leg back up on the pillow atop the coffee table, immediately moving to close her sketchbook and stuff it away. Chert Sanders The muscles in Chert's shoulders tensed at the jab. For just a breath, it seemed he might listen to the pull of well-worn habits and turn his back on the duplex, but when he moved again it was to bend down and unlace his boots. Mulishness had won the day. His fingers attacked the laces of the footwear like an enemy. Run away? he hissed silently. Like hell. Chert's new mantra. "Jamal?" he muttered, stepping through the door. "Zach mentioned a Jamal- said he might be the person I was looking for." Antoinette Devereux "He had just changed..." She explained, glancing over to him when he actually unlaced his boots and came inside, an eyebrow raising. "Who are you looking for?" It was asked while she finished pushing the notebook away on the end table. The couch next to her was empty, and she looked slightly comforted that he hadn't run away again. Chert Sanders "Who do you think?" he asked impatiently. Antony hadn't slept through the announcement too, had she? "If Jamal attacked you, then maybe he went after Aubrey, too." The notion was troubling. Chert had originally assumed that whoever had wounded the red-head had done so because she was a staff member; the possibility that it had been an act of random, unrestrained violence hadn't occured to him until just then. A part of his mind was momentarily occupied watching Antony store the notebook in a safe place, and found it oddly distressing. But the thought was quickly cut off at the source, and he steered his brain back to the central matter at hand. Antoinette Devereux "He may have, but I'd say it was suicide going AFTER him yourself! He's turning into a ******** tiger. A big, angry black man who's been outfitted with claws and a jaw full of knives! Besides, Moreau probably already suspects him." She snapped, moving to stand up and face him due to a natural reaction, but she stopped short when pain shot up her leg, causing her to collapse back down on the couch, wincing somewhat. "********, we don't even know if the chips still work... And if they can't zap him down, he could very well kill you." Her chest heaved somewhat through her anger, which had sprung from the fact that she, deep down, really didn't want him to commit suicide. Especially if it were thanks to her. Chert Sanders chert looked both baffled and irritated by her infuriation. "Well for ******** sake, nothing's ever going to happen if everyone just sits here with their thumbs up their asses," he spat. Someone had managed to lay their hands on a staff member and it rankled to think that Moreau might cart them off into the belly of the labs, never to be seen again, without anyone finding out how it had been accomplished. But if the murderer really was someone like Jamal- someone who attacked others indiscriminately- Chert was also appalled that they'd been allowed to run loose on the island. That meant the attack on Aubrey was less of a deliberate victory than it was a simple, stupid mistake on the part of the staff. If you stuck your hand into a hungry shark's tank and wiggled it around, something unfortunate was bound to happen sooner or later. Idiots on top of the hill, madmen at the bottom- it's a bad situation, he thought grimly. The implications of Antony's last statement buzzed around in his head, drawing him into a preoccupied silence. <********, we don't even know if the chips still work... And if they can't zap him down, he could very well kill you. True, Chert wasn't very big on the whole getting mauled by a man-tiger thing, but if the chips actually were malfunctioning... Needless to say, it was worth the risk of getting zapped again to verify if it were so. There was still the matter of Antony, however. An inquiry like, Hey, would ya mind if I had a go at your head with this lamp? probably wouldn't go over especially well right then. Antoinette Devereux "Well I can't exactly do anything about it now can I?!" She growled, tails lashing behind her, "Considering I'm on crutches you know!" His thoughtful look caught her offguard, but she soon connected the dots and gave him a pointed look. If he decided to try anything on her, oh she'd be pissed. Volitile enough to beat him with a metal crutch that's for sure. "Why'd you come here anyways? Think -I- killed her?" Antony rolled her eyes and set her jaw, daring him to answer the last question with a 'yes' sort of answer. Chert Sanders Chert stiffened perceptibly. Most of Antony's barbs had sunk deeply into his guilt-weakened defenses, and though a part of him felt it was a well-deserved punishment for his early cowardice, he was also beginning to tire of their raw sting. "It's always possible she choked to death on your acid wit," he said without thinking, like a dog that snarls when a hand touches a wound too roughly. Antoinette Devereux "Is the kettle calling the pot black again?" She grunted, eyeing him with a bit less anger as she calmed down ever so slowly. Falling silent in order to focus on taking a few deep breaths, Antony fussed irritably with the pillow under her cast before speaking again, voice calmed considerably. "You never answered my question, Brian." At the use of his name she looked over at him, searching his eyes for a moment before sighing roughly, "Why'd you come here? We haven't exactly been on good terms since your morning after panic attack..." Chert Sanders The use of Chert's real name caused him to flinch and grit his teeth, and he appeared almost suspicious of the unexpected softening of her tone. Scanning his expression would only reveal that he was still fighting the same old war with the tangle of conflicting impulses that he always was. You can't fix this- get out while you're still ahead.
Maybe you should actually try answering her directly this time. It couldn't hurt.
Oh ******** yes, it could.
Why'd she calm down? Is this some sort of trick?
Don't just stand there- say SOMEthing.
What the hell are you doing? You weren't going to get involved, again!Chert's jaw worked soundlessly for a moment. Then, "I was... worried." The word somehow managed to slip out, unbidden, in the middle of the mental chaos. Antoinette Devereux Antony blinked. That was not what she had expected him to say, and her jaw actually dropped slightly. Her mouth was quickly closed as she tried to process this new, obviously honest information. She kept her gaze on him while she remained silent, soon resorting to chewing on her lip ring as an old habit. "You were worried?" Maybe she had heard wrong? It seemed like such a non-Chert thing to say. An eyebrow cocked upwards to accentuate the question. Chert Sanders Chert looked, if anything, nearly as surprised as Antony... and perhaps just a tad bit horrified. He belatedly masked the expression with a stormy scowl. "What?" The single word dripped with scorn. Maybe if he pretended the possibility was ridiculously laughable, she'd mark the slip off as a product of her imagination. "I said I was hurried- I don't have time to pick and choose who I question, when Moreau might find his suspect at any moment." Antoinette Devereux Her eyes narrowed dangerously while she carefully stood and gathered her crutches, closing the distance between them rather quickly. "You're a horrible liar, and a cowardly a**," she said, tone intensifying from relatively clam to nearly yelling as she continued to speak, moving so that she was almost face to face with him. "You don't even respect me enough to be honest with me, and if you think by being Mr. Snitch you'll get a 'Get Off the Island Free' card, then you're denser than I thought. Either way you'll end up a rat..." Antony's knuckles were white from the grip that they had on her crutches, and she shifted slightly as if she either wanted to hit him. Maybe with her crutch? Chert Sanders "Better a rodent than a vicious, self-righteous b***h!" he shouted back, glaring up at her with fury etched into every line of his face. Antony's words were flaming arrows, and each one of them had painfully hit their mark, igniting feigned anger into real rage in the process. But there was also a tinge of naked shock to the expression- no one in the history of Chert had ever called his bullshit quite so forcefully. Part of him was reeling as if it'd been punched in the face by a 200 pound boxer named Larry. "You want to hit me?" he challenged. "Do it. Go the ******** ahead!" Antoinette Devereux "A squirrel is a rodent -too- you a*****e," she countered, catching the shock but saying nothing more, caught offgaurd by his challenge. At first she wanted to, maybe knock some sense into him while she was at it, but it wasn't long before it dawned on her. "You'd like that wouldn't you?" She chittered, glaring at him as a heat worked it's way across her body. He wanted a reason to leave and never have to come back. A way to exalt him from any guilt he harbored when it came to her. He was trying so hard to stay in control and repair his broken defenses, and Antony wasn't about to let that happen. Suddenly, she let go of her crutches and roughly gripped the sides of his head as she converted passionate anger into unbridled passion. She was unrelenting, the crutches were even ignored as they clattered to the floor, her tails keeping her balanced while she pressed herself against him. The previous fight fueling pent up frustrations and good ol' animal lust. Chert Sanders Chert's thoughts scattered like startled birds in the face of her sudden passion. The only thing that managed to stay centered was the enduring anger that pulsed white-hot and jealous around the vulnerable contents of his psyche, but even that was not invulernable. It responded warmly to the demanding touch of Antony's lips, shifting from the pure white incandescence of rage to the bright crimson glow of lust in a heartbeat. He pressed his hands into the small of her back forcefully, as if to ensure that she didn't change her mind again, and moved to deepen the kiss. Antoinette Devereux She groaned low in her throat when he held her tight and increased the fevor, arching her back against him at the sensations burning through her. Without thinking, she slid her hands down his neck and along his shoulders, nails leaving marks as she needily gripped the muscles there for support. The kiss grew in heat and as her left leg moved to try and hook around his hip and pull him closer. Chert Sanders Pain mingled together with pleasure in a sharp, compelling sensation that set his blood aflame. He gladly submitted to the pull of her leg, pressing his hips against her as he broke the kiss for just a moment to n** at the edge of her ear with his white, even teeth. Antoinette Devereux Antony shuddered against him, breath ragged as she dipped down to taste the flesh along the crook of his neck. The taste and smell of his skin, heightened by her changes, drove her hormones even further. Even her tails were quivering in the excitement. Chert Sanders Chert purred huskily in appreciation. Her tails over her shoulder, their shivering strange but also strangely encouraging. Still pressed against her, his pelvis tilted upward in a silent question, driven by the demanding heat her close proximity caused. Antoinette Devereux His question was answered with a soft noise of pleasure as arched her back again, pressing herself against him. Her answer was obvious. How could she say no?
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Island of Moreau Vice Captain
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Posted: Tue May 16, 2006 12:43 am
[ Message temporarily off-line ]
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