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 Posted: Fri Oct 18, 2013 8:51 pm
Stormy made no effort to push him more than he looked like he could take and kept quiet but close on the walk over, setting a slow pace. Gale looked ill still, so she stepped up when it came to dropping off the insanity fragments at the lab and handled the interaction with the specialists there so that he didn't have to pretend like he cared. Sensitive to his quiet distress, she kept ahold of his hand throughout the trip, anxious to find a way to alleviate it more than simply brushing arms and holdng hands.
Once they left the labs, she finally spoke. "Hey, uh, where do you want to go?" Stormy asked lightly, conversationally. Then a thought crossed her mind. "How's your house? It's been okay since the titans appeared, right?" She knew it had been smashed a few times before, which wasn't fair...
xkurotomato look at this bad start /o/
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Posted: Fri Oct 18, 2013 10:42 pm
He was both physically and mentally exhausted. Competing in the tournament had been one thing, and he'd had a few days to recover from that, but that, combined with attacking the creature and dealing with the mental stress stemming from the reappearance of a certain ex, meant that he was slightly more susceptible to tiredness than he normally was.
It made him feel relatively pathetic, but for once Gale didn't argue as Stormy took the lead, waiting silently as she handled the interactions with the lab. Her hand felt warm and small in his, her fingers gentle, and he didn't move to pull them away. Instead, he let her tug him along, moving almost automatically from the labs until they were back out in the hallway.
It took him a moment to realize she had spoken, his mind whirring into life.
"It's...it needs a bit of work," Gale muttered, rubbing his free hand along his brow. "It got a bit shaken up during the ruckus with that first bloody creature, but at least it's still standing. The upstairs is mostly fine, it's the downstairs that will take longer to fix."
He exhaled a long breath, closing his eyes briefly, his thoughts twisting in his head. The pressure was building in between his temples, and his face was slightly flushed, his cheeks red.
"Home," said Gale finally. "I want to go home."
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Posted: Fri Oct 18, 2013 10:51 pm
Partial damage was better than total . . . But she still felt saddened that his house had yet again been a target, that all it took was a passing swipe to ruin days and days of work. But it endured, and so would they.
"Okay," she said with a nod and led the way. "If you want, I could help fix up some things while you lie down." Because Gale looked as though he at least needed to get off his feet; if she hadn't been dubious about her own strength, she would have offered to carry him like he had on several occasions. But maybe if she could start helping mend his house, she could begin helping him mend those internal wounds that ailed him so.
Stormy passed him a sidelong look, concerned that he had a red face. "Do you feel okay? You look like you're warming up."
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Posted: Sat Oct 19, 2013 9:11 pm
He had, pathetically, gotten used to his house being in the literal line of fire by now. But despite the constant rebuilding, despite Candace's dire warnings and her constant desire for him to move back into the dorms, Gale's stubbornness had become, if possible, even more solid. The little yellow house with its white front door was a staple in his life, a driving force, and he was not about to let it go so easily.
And besides, it was his home.
His response to Stormy's suggestion was a soft humming noise, Gale still rubbing his brow, as though this would somehow alleviate some of the mounting pain. It wasn't that long of a walk, thankfully, back to the towns, but it did take some strength to climb up the front steps, Gale incredibly grateful that there was a couch just a short distance away.
He collapsed onto it, exhaling a long breath.
"I"m fine," he mumbled, tilting his head back. "Just feeling a bit worn out, is all."
He had let go of her hand by now, and he knew they had to talk, knew that the subject of him would come up, but he didn't want to, he wanted to pretend that he did not exist, that he had not invaded this little world that Gale had spent so much of his time and effort creating.
"I think there's some instant noodles in that stash I won from the tournament," he said without opening his eyes.
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Posted: Sat Oct 19, 2013 9:43 pm
Damaged or not, the house was a sight for sore eyes to her after days of not visiting. "Hello again," Stormy greeted it with a smile, because in a way it was becoming an old friend the way Michelangelo was: an object that, while not sentient, still held many memories.
She highly doubted Gale was fine when he fell onto the couch, but Stormy didn't vocalize it just yet; there would be plenty of time for questions and answers today. "No doubt, what with the tournament and the titan and the reconstruction of your house happening at the same time," she agreed with a small nod, lingering in the living room with him. "Take a break." He did not get added to the list because he wasn't an obstruction, not so long as she willed it. He was just a ghost they would bust.
When Gale's eyes closed, she allowed herself to show more concern than she had been before, her hands clasped with anxiety. If Stormy had known it would have affected him this much, she wouldn't have said a word at the tournament. It pained her to see him like this, but . . . Food. Right. "It needs to be boiled or in hot water. Is your stove electric or gas?" she asked as she sifted through his winnings. The glow of the reverse pendant caught her eye. "If it's gas, we won't need power, just something to start the fire. But, uh, you could use that pendant to power things up--I think for a month, they said? But they also said you could use it to take 3 trips to the Human World based on your leave . . ."
It was hard to be hesitating so much, to be unsure how to proceed when Gale looked that weary, to have the strongest compulsion to somehow wrench those pains of his and shoulder them instead. Tucking the instant noodles under her arm, Stormy approached and gently smoothed his bangs, the light pressure of her fingers belying that uncertainty eating her from within. "Whatever you want to do, okay?"
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Posted: Sun Oct 20, 2013 6:46 pm
He'd forgotten about the whole hot water issue.
Damn it.
With a small sigh, Gale opened his eyes. He glanced at the pile of things on the floor (after the tournament all he'd done was dump it in a little heap on the living room floor, too tired and lazy and confused to do anything else), and then leaned back on the couch, curling one leg beneath him.
"I'd rather save the pendant," he said, after a moment's thought. "Don't worry about the noodles."
He heard Stormy's footsteps and then felt her cool fingers against his forehead, gently pushing back his sweat dampened hair. It felt relaxing, soothing, and some of the tension eased from his shoulders, though it was still there; that nagging, awful sensation that reminded him of a certain someone.
Gale lifted a hand, his fingers closing around Stormy's wrist, and with a sharp tug he'd pulled her into his lap, his arms wrapping around her waist. He pushed his face against her shoulder and just sat there, taking deep, steadying breaths, trying to relax.
He said nothing for a long time, merely held her close and reminded himself of her warmth.
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Posted: Sun Oct 20, 2013 7:19 pm
"Gotcha." She had just set the package down and her fingers had left his forehead for only a second when he tugged her down. The action had been so sudden that Stormy couldn't help the soft noise of surprise as she fell into his lap and found herself pulled against him, Gale's breaths felt through her coat. Without thought she was holding him in return, finding it simultaneously difficult to swallow and easier to breathe.
The pain was almost physical enough that she could imagine for a moment that that was what clung to him: a bleak and gray thing that was scratching away at the Death hunter little by little, green eyes twinkling with dark delight. And Stormy found herself holding him just a little more tighter as if her body could shield him from it.
The silence crept along, but she didn't mind it; whatever you want to do meant exactly that. If Gale didn't want to speak for the rest of the day, she would agree to it. If he wanted to boot her out and have some alone time, she wouldn't put up a fight. And if he wanted to keep her as close as this, if he wanted her warmth so that he could get back on his feet, then she would give as much as she could, give it all away even if that's what it took. Nothing distressed her more than the sight of someone in pain: the fact that it was Gale just made it that much worse.
She had a bleeding heart and willingly made those cuts for the sake of others.
At length (Stormy couldn't tell time well normally, let alone in moments like this), one of her hands came away from his back and began to stroke his hair gently. She wanted desperately to speak, but what could she say? It'll be okay? She didn't know if it would be. You'll get through this? Of course he would, that didn't need saying; he wasn't a child. I'm sorry? That couldn't begin to cover everything wrong, and when had those words ever made someone feel better anyway? She said them so often that they probably had lost their meaning.
"I'm here, okay?" she said softly. "Whatever you need, I'm here."
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Posted: Sun Oct 20, 2013 10:48 pm
He thought maybe, maybe, if he held on for long enough, she wouldn't disappear, she wouldn't leave. It had little to do with trusting her, considering that he knew that what she had already told him was true, and more to do with his own selfish, irrational insecurities.
Because, stripping away the Hunter label, the Specialist Emblem, the homeowner title - when it came down to just the basics, all he was could be defined as a seventeen year old boy from England.
A seventeen year old boy who liked a girl - liked her a lot.
Gale's arms curled around Stormy's waist, and he lifted his head only long enough to press a kiss to the underside of her jaw before he buried his face back into her shoulder. She wasn't trying to pull away, which was somehow reassuring, and he could feel her hands first on his back and then sifting gently over his hair.
"You," Gale mumbled, and his voice was half muffled, due to his position. "I want you. I need you."
Her presence alone was what kept him going most days when the job got tough, when things got bad. Reminding himself that there was such a person to exist that cared for him nearly as much he cared for her was immensely reassuring, and it was one of the driving forces in his small, quiet life.
Gale leaned back a little, the side of his face against hers, his eyes closed.
"I remember," he said softly. "I remember everything."
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Posted: Sun Oct 20, 2013 11:48 pm
Her eyes fell closed instinctively at the response, a tightness in her chest growing until she was very aware of every heartbeat. This was not the first time Gale had said that, nor (she hoped) would it be the last: but every time it happened, it still felt like it was casting a spotlight on her, like she was supposed to get up and receive her reward for something she hadn't known she was nominated for in the first place. Like someone thanking her for making their day better just because she had smiled at them.
Stormy wasn't aware she had been blushing until a few seconds after the kiss, and after which Gale wasn't the only one who wanted to bury their face. "Here I am," she answered, smiling in spite of her red face and the fact that he couldn't see it; it leaked into her tone. "And here I'll stay."
Gale could probably feel the shock run through her body, however, when he revealed he had regained his memory. Sitting up, her eyes flew open and she glanced at him, a rosy cheek brushing against his. "E-Everything?" Relieved and elated, her smile brightened considerably as she sat up and leaned back to view him in full, one hand resting at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, the other lightly resting against his cheek where her face had been. "So--So you remember from the beginning?" she asked with painfully evident hope. "The snow dog, the cruise, the hot chocolate, everything everything?"
A thought struck her, and her smile faltered while the light in her eyes became more determined. "What about . . . when I was sick with the flu and you took care of me and asked me out. Right here." Stormy gestured with her head to mean the couch they were sitting on. "D'you remember that? How does it go in your head? What did we say?"
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Posted: Mon Oct 21, 2013 9:25 pm
He closed his eyes, trying to piece everything together. It was still a little fuzzy around the edges; some memories felt stronger than others, and some still needed a bit of time to develop, but for the most part they were there, they were all there.
Gale felt the relief sweep over him once more, thick and strong, because although his head still hurt and things were still messy, he remembered. He had spent all this time trying to force himself into remembering, and then all it had taken was not forcing it.
Not forcing it and spending more time with Stormy.
His brows furrowed together. Gale looked up at her, her fingers feeling reassuringly cool and light against his skin, which was warm and slightly feverish. "You asked me why I was nice to you," he said, after a long moment. "And I told you that it was because you were my bright spot. That I liked you. You told me that you were happy about that, that if you were happy about anything, that it was that one fact."
One hand lifted, Gale smoothing a few stray strands away from Stormy's face. He drew her free hand towards him, his lips against her fingertips. "You asked me something about why I was asking, why you. And I said it was because of you that I was asking, because even then I knew how much you meant to me."
His expression was tense, almost pained. "Because you weren't a replacement," he said softly, and he turned her wrist over, kissing the palm of her hand. "You were the real thing, and I still want you to be."
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Posted: Mon Oct 21, 2013 11:25 pm
She remembered it and also didn't remember it. The words were right, and she remembered asking those questions, but . . . the further Stormy followed the trail of that memory, the more sour it became. Bleak, blackened, ominous like the smoke that had once trailed form Thane's lock after they had come back from the Tear. For a moment she closed her eyes again, soaking up Gale's words like sunlight as she found the memory and compared it to his description.
"So . . . you're asking me because it's me, right? And not for any other reason? Because Nevada--"
"I'm asking you because no-one else will."
She flinched. That wasn't right, she knew it wasn't. It mirrored a different encounter, yes, but this one had to be fabricated. The raw feelings of pain still ate away at her, however, as she saw in her mind's eye the tired and frustrated look Gale wore after the collapse of the cruise mission--the look of someone who had been rejected and sought solace in other forms. The sort of look she couldn't turn away, even if it meant forming a relationship with flimsy holding: to comfort each others' loneliness.
That was . . . wrong. The right details, but the wrong person, the wrong memory. Stormy's face wrinkled as she thought harder, moving past the initial impact of the memory, losing herself in Gale's answer so that she could pick apart the truth and the lies.
Why was he nice. Bright spot. That if she had been happy about anything, it was--it was--
"̛͡Į͞f̨̨͝ ̧́͘I͜͏̷̵́ ̷̸c̸̡a̵ņ̛́͘͢ ̶̡̀͝ĺ̴̴̡͟i͏̡̀̕g̛͘͘͡h̶̴̶͡t̵̢͜͜͡ ̧͟͟ú̶̢͘p̧̀͘ ̛͞j̨̕͝u̡͘͝s̕͠t̸̨̢̢͞ ̶҉̷͞ờ̷̡̕n̨͏̵̛͢é̸͟͞ ̕͡͞͏p͞e̸r̶͡s̶̷ó̶͠͝͡n̸̷̕͜'͏̕͏̵s̀͜͝ ̀͘҉̡ẃ̷́͠ơ̕͠ŗ̷̷̨͝l͢ḑ̷̧͝,̴̧͡ ̶̴̢͟t̨͜h̀̀̕͡e̴̕n҉ ̢͜͠.̀͡͡ ̨̡.̴̵̨ ̶͟͠͝.̀ ̨͏̸I̶͡'̷̧̕m̸̨ ͡ǵ͢l̵͢a̕͜d̵͜͝͡ ̸͏i̴̸͘ţ̵̛̀͟'͏̴̷͘s҉̨͘͟ ̡̡ỳ͠o͏͠҉̷͟ù͝͏̡̨r̨̢͟͝͝s͜͠,̴͜͝ ̷̢̕͜G̕͟͝a̷̴̵l̢̀͟e͞҉̕͡.̨́́͠͝"͞
The hand that Gale hadn't stolen for his own affections relaxed and began to slide down, seemingly without her being aware until she quite suddenly grasped at his shirt from the effort of trying to look beyond. Why did she remember differently, why couldn't she find the truth? What had happened in the Tear to mess up her memory like that?
As sudden as the burst of strength had come, it left her. Stormy's form seemed to crumple under the weight of its own memories as her grip slackened once more. "Why can't I remember . . . ?" she mumbled to herself with a forlorn expression, chin tucked. The harder she had tried, the more she had encountered mental fogginess like she had had while sick: barely able to process things, details slipping from her fingers, images shifting on fast forward.
Thane hissed territorially, threatened by the insidious side effect. < < Must humans be so mutable? Or is that solely your issue biting us time and time again? > >
The insinuation that what made her her was a problem struck Stormy harder than anticipated. On the inside she fell further, but she was very conscious now that this behavior would only worry Gale--and given what he had fretted about the past few days, adding more to his plate would just as much hurt her as it would distress him. So Stormy physically shook her head and rubbed at her temple, making a face so that it effectively erased the sag of her sadness that now sat inside her chest, waiting for its next opportunity.
"I think when the titan was snapping at me, it got my head spinning," she joked lightly, wincing to add to the effect that she was warding off a headache. "Memories already were funny little things, flitting this way and that; just add a little head trauma and they scatter like leaves in the wind." Retreat, save face, smile. When she swallowed down the darkness, it was easier to lose herself in the light he provided--to pretend she was actually worth it.
Belatedly, as if remembering they needed to react, the fingers he'd kissed curled in towards her palm as if to capture the lingering sensation of his lips there. Gale still looked tensed, so she did her best to look calm and relaxed like she had been before, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly through her nose. "I still want to be," she affirmed with a soft smile that she hoped didn't tremble, her free hand holding his face again as she leaned forward and kissed his brow--the same action she had enacted after agreeing to date, the same couch it had happened on, and still with a mental fogginess that didn't allow her to be as openly affectionate as she wanted. Patterns and patterns.
Drained as though she had fought a long battle (as all internal ones were), Stormy turned and tucked herself under his head, her legs still bent and up as if ready for the sign to completely curl in the fetal position. "I still want to be . . . real . . . That's a funny word for it," she mumbled curiously. "What was I before? Imaginary? A conception? A collection of bright and dim moments meshed together into a mosaic? I wonder if that's what life really is: the way we exist in another's memory." She adjusted her hand in his, testing to be sure their fingers still fit, still could slide together to form links that wouldn't be broken, and hummed in thought.
"But . . . I'm glad I'm here. I'm glad that this right here exists right now and not something else, that I can blink all I want but it doesn't disappear, that there's no sudden stir waking me from my dream. And most of all, Gale," she said, tilting her head up to him with bright eyes, "I'm really, really glad you remember me."
She could take solace in that fact. Happiness from it, even. He deserved nothing but good thoughts as it was. Her smile was serene despite the conflict inside of her as she lifted his hand and returned a feather light kiss to his fingers.
kurotomato sob my posts y u go all over the place
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Posted: Tue Oct 22, 2013 8:41 pm
He'd seen the flinch; it passed across her face, fleeting and unprepared, as though she had not expected to do it. But there was something else, something that Gale did not understand; an almost pained look, like she was recalling things that were unpleasant, something that wasn't right. He didn't get it, didn't understand why she was looking like that.
Was it something he had said? Something he had done? He felt Stormy's fingers slip down his heck and grip the front of his shirt suddenly, and Gale gave a little gasp of surprise, glancing down in bemusement. But her grip loosened almost immediately, and then she was slowly folding into herself, becoming smaller, more fragile.
"You don't remember yet?" Gale asked quietly, and he lifted the hand on her waist to cover Stormy's hand where it lay against his chest, his fingers curling around hers. She was smiling now, laughing off the earlier darkness, but he couldn't help but wonder what had happened.
He wanted to know, but did he want to ask? Stormy's kiss to his forehead was gentle, her fingers cool and soothing against his cheek. Gale twisted around, grateful that the sofa was a wide one so that it could fit the both of them, and his arms wrapped around Stormy, holding her against his chest.
"You were never an idea," he admitted, and tenderly stroked his fingers over her temple. "I never thought anyone would ever want to be with me, so I tried hard not to let anyone get close to me because I didn't want to have these one-sided feelings. But you..."
Gale's fingers wound through hers, his grip tightening even as hers did, as though they were both reassuring themselves of the other's presence. "You were special," he said quietly. "You were, not perfect, because no one is perfect, but you were beautiful and you were free spirited and you were bloody odd," he added, with a small smile that melted away after a moment, Gale's expression soft.
"You weren't an idea, but you became a necessity quite easily."
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Posted: Tue Oct 22, 2013 9:19 pm
She bit the inside of her cheek. "Not yet," she affirmed, because it wasn't a lie; technically she didn't remember what Gale had described. What was there instead was something Stormy refused to accept, so it might as well have been amnesia. For a moment she almost opened her mouth to explain what played out in her head instead, but . . . It would hit too close to home for her, and it would only strain Gale further to think about.
(Don't think about it, just put it behind the wall.)
She kept her gaze up long enough to see that fleeting smile, then let her chin tuck back in again as she laid against him, comforted by his presence surrounding her. Had her mind not been buzzing with thoughts, she would have been tempted to curl up completely and fall asleep there in his lap.
"Chaos and magic," she added softly to his list of descriptions, a little smile on her face. "You forgot chaos and magic . . . And way too moody sometimes. I don't know how you stand it." But her smile eventually faded in spite of the praise, for they were familiar words that could only light tiny fires inside--fragile against the darkness swallowed back and the chill blindly accepted.
"Do you want to talk about anything?" It was starting to hurt to even say him, knowing the impact it left on Gale. But if he wasn't in the mood, Stormy would follow; she was still faithfully of the mindset to let Gale lead however he felt most comfortable.
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Posted: Tue Oct 22, 2013 10:03 pm
He reached a hand between them, touching Stormy's chin and pulling her face up so that he could look into her eyes.
"Because I like you, that's how," said Gale softly, and kissed her gently, lingering a moment before leaning back, letting go of her face so that she could go back to how she had been before. He wrapped both arms around her waist and pressed his face into her hair, inhaling a small breath before exhaling a long sigh.
He didn't want to talk about Jack, but they would have to talk about Jack. He still felt a little over warm, not from Stormy's presence, but from the feverish stress and mess of earlier. Gale linked his fingers together against the small of Stormy's back, tucking his chin against her shoulder.
Truth be told, there were dozens of questions buzzing in his head. Hundreds, probably. Half of them didn't make sense, and the other half of them were a mixed up mess of confusion, a jumbled cacophony of sound, memories, and emotions. He simultaneously felt disgust at Jack's reappearance into Stormy's life and anxiety that this would become an issue.
He didn't want it to become an issue.
"...what did he say?" he asked, after a long moment. "To you, I mean. When you first saw him, what did he say to you?"
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Posted: Tue Oct 22, 2013 10:43 pm
She really wished they could still avoid the topic somehow, even though she knew the sooner they had a conversation the sooner they coudl move past it. Nevada had made Jack's reappearance look like a bigger problem than Stormy agreed upon, but then she preferred the optimistic route; and she didn't want Gale thinking it was a mountain when it could just be a molehill.
Even before he answered her, she knew what would come up. So she took from the kiss as much affection as she could, anything to steel her against what might be an awkward and possibly painful conversation, depending on the sorts of things Gale wanted to know (and how willing she was to avoid or lie about certain aspects). She wanted that reminder on her lips of where they were and who he was--and that the present was stronger than the past.
In the time it took Gale to settle himself, she pondered how to respond. As ever, it wasn't direct. "I was in my room, reading the brothers Grimm," she said in an almost narrative voice, like she was reading a story, but there was an underlying tightness to it still. "When I heard the knock, I thought it was Nevada; I don't know why I thought so, she didn't have to knock and never did . . ." Her hands, longing or something to hold now that Gale's were preoccupied, slid around his lower back as well, loose but enough to anchor her.
"And he was just--there." She gazed into the couch behind him. "He was just there," she repeated, almost like it was a joke, "and I thought I really needed to get some sleep. Even if the dreams are weird and the nightmares are worse. This is just bizarrely thorough imagination. But he stood there in the doorway like some giant trying to eclipse the sun, and I just . . ." She didn't know how to phrase it; it frustrated and frightened her when words weren't sufficient, for if she could not express herself, she was doomed to implode from the weight of her emotions. And even here, safe in his arms, safe in his house, she still was afraid of what she kept inside--of what anger had yet to surface.
Stormy shifted uneasily, a hand creeping up to gently grasp higher on his back, to pull him just that much closer. "The first thing he said to me was my name. He said, 'Lina?' He looked at me like he didn't believe we were the same person, and . . . and I guess we were just as much as we weren't." And that's why he'd gotten angry so fast, she thought, her face falling. Because she wasn't the same. "I was supposed to be dead for the last couple of years; he didn't take well to the revelation."
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