Welcome to Gaia! ::

It had been a shock walking down the hall to her dorm and finding Taym there at his door, dressed in his civies, covered in blood, and looking worst then exhausted.

She'd been upset with him for days. Since the end of the battle royale. When she'd been trapped in that classroom with Caelius, at the Death leads tender mercies, and she'd come out of that room shaking and empty and even if he'd waited to make sure she'd made it out alive, he didn't say anything. He'd turned away from her, walked away, and they'd barely spoken since. Nothing in person, only the off handed half conversations over twitter to keep them connected. She had needed comforting, a hug, something, anything, and he'd walked away.

But seeing him in the hall, covered in blood, was enough to push away that lingering annoyance, and she'd rushed forward, expressed her concern, asked him what had happened, and he'd given the barest excuse for an answer before closing the door in her face.

She'd stood there for a solid minute, shocked and hurt, and she'd thought about knocking. Thought about demanding he open the door and let her in so she could see with her own eyes that he was really alright, but she didn't. In the end she'd sighed, dropping her gaze to the floor before turning and going back t her room.

He didn't want to talk to her.

She could take a hint.

The uncertain flicker of candle light bathing the hall from the open door was a surprise, Peyton peered at it from her open door with a mingling combination of relief and, oddly, dread. And the latter was a mystery, something that had crept up without explanation but was inexcusable. Peyton didn't know why she dreaded crossing the hall to that open door, but she did, and it made her hesitate before intent turned to action.

Delicate fingers were knotted together, twisting uselessly as she stepped into that wavering light and lingered in the door way. The open door was an invitation, it had always been an unspoken invitation between them, but she paused at the door when she saw him. Laying, for once, on the bed. He would have looked relaxed if not for the preoccupied way thin fingers ran over stained denim. He wasn't looking at what he was doing, but kept his dark gaze on the ceiling, though she didn't think there was anything there that actually held his attention. No, if she had to guess she would say his mind was elsewhere, probably on whatever had lead to the blood on his pants and the telltale stain on his freshly scrubbed jacket.

The Sun stared at that stain, then flicked her eyes back to the man on the bed. "So who's blood is it?" If not his own. Her voice was softer then usual, and it gave a hint to how to girl would sound if she'd had a normal childhood, and a life that hadn't forced hr to harden early. She could have been dainty, delicate even. Held a personality that fit the petite shell of a body she occupied.

His hand reaching out to her stole all her attention, and she stared at it as he answered her question. Maebe's blood. A mission probably, something to do with the work that Taym had been given by Cael. She waited to feel jealous, to feel annoyed that he'd asked someone else to go instead of her, and instead just felt oddly hollow.

Too much had been happening in too short a span, and Peyton could feel the weight of it resting on her shoulders.

She didn't move until he asked about the book he'd lent her. It was so casual a question, so incredibly outside the realm of heavy events, that it shocked her into motion. She was shaking her head when her fingers touched his, and might have verbalized a response if that cold hand hadn't wrapped around her own and pulled her closer until she was forced to rest a knee on the mattress for balance least she fall on top of him.

He'd pulled her into his personal space before. One-armed hugs, and acts of comfort. She blinked down at him with a question in her eyes, chewing at the inside of her lower lip.

Pale eyes seemed to linger on his mouth as he talked, then slid down their tingled fingers. His cold, her's warm. It was such an innocent touch, but it seemed more important then it was somehow.

"There aren't that meany books here to read, so I'm savoring what I have." She was three quarters of the way through it, and although she picked it up almost every night, there were instances where she reread entire chapters just to make sure she'd adsorbed them completely before moving on.

He sounded so tired. It actually hurt to listen to him talk, the strain in his voice was very pronounced, and although he was on topic, it felt like maybe he was talking just to fill the silence. He never had to work hard to convince her, she was quick to take his word on things. If he said the books were worth reading then she would read them, no additional convincing required. "I'm sure they're good." And when she could get off the island again she'd pick them up at a book store.

His grip tightened, pulling her attention back down to their hands as he apologized. It was awkward just standing there, one leg folded up with her knee resting on the mattress. He didn't seem willing to let her hand go on his own, and she wasn't going to draw away from him, so she sank down to sit on the bed beside him, one leg still dangling off the edge. "It's okay. I understand"

She blinked at that news, apparently shocked. It was December, she knew that, but somehow, despite the idle mention of it on twitter, Peyton hadn't really been thinking much about Christmas. It approached, but it still seemed out of reach, far in the future, almost unreachable. As if it shouldn't come to someplace like this, untouched by snow, plagued with disaster. A light smile flicked along her lips. "I always liked Christmas light. They were a constant." It didn't matter where they moved, there were always lights strung up on the houses.

His thumb rolled over her knuckles, and her eyes focused down on that one small movement. She didn't want it to, but tiny little things still managed to send a subtle flutter through her insides. It made her feel guilty, maybe her hesitate a moment too long in returning some gesture. Her fingers squeezed around his just as they slipped away from her, and her hand hung in the air between them a moment before slowly lowering to her lap.

A reminder of just how awful it had been over the last few weeks took away whatever calmness the mention of Christmas lights had managed, and she curled an arm around herself. Noah had said she looked tired, could see something was wrong, but she'd told him she would be fine and he hadn't pressed her.

But she'd never been good at maintaining the tough facade in front of Taym. They'd been through too much, shared too much, knew too much, for such pretending. It was Peyton's turn to reach out for him, small hand hovering over the back of his where it toyed idly with the back of his book. Reluctant, because he always pulled away, but after a handful of seconds she let her hand lower so warm fingertips could run softly along the back of his hand and over his knuckles, following down the lines of his fingers. "If even Bix is down, then the entire island has gone to hell."

He tensed, she tensed, but he didn't jerk away, and the girl relaxed by inches as he took her hand back in his. Some little kernel of anxiety loosened within her and strained features smoothed, just a little.

It was disheartening to hear that Death didn't even know what was going on. A division built on information, and everyone still seemed clueless. Did Mark know something the rest didn't? Did Caelius? If they did, were they keeping it under wraps? And why? Too many questions, not enough answers. Her hand tightened around his, her own distress raising to match his frustration. It was bad enough s**t kept going wrong, but they where trapped here. There was no escape, even if temporary. Something that hadn't felt quite so suffocating until Caelius' little lecture in the classroom.

Mention of the candles had her looking up finally, flicking to a few of them before glancing towards the door, and again she felt that little knot of guilt in the pit of her stomach. Warrick stirred at the back of her mind, rumbling his opinion, and Peyton frowned. "It's a power outage, candles are all over." Her thumb smoothed over the back of his own, and her looked down at the book laying across his chest.

Taym was confusing. Though to be fair, Taym had always been confusing. Peyton had never really fully understood his intentions or aims, and now was no different. "Are you trying to get me to leave, or do you actually care about any rumors that might make it back to Solomon?" Her frown grew more pronounced, brows pinching. "I don't know what you want from me. I thought I did, or rather I thought I knew what you didn't want from me. You seemed all to happy to push me at someone else at the first opportunity, but then at the mall, in the hallway..." She was squeezing his hand, and hadn't remembered doing it.

She'd expected him to let her go, to turn away, to insist she leave, and when he didn't, when he shifted his grip to wrap long fingers around her wrist, she chanced glancing up at his face, just a flicker, before resuming her mindless scanning of the book's worn cover.

Even calm words could hold a bite, and Peyton couldn't help but flinch. Shoulders hunching up as she drew her other leg up and beneath her. Folding in on herself, making herself smaller, trying to disappear despite the firm grip on her wrist. A growl filtered through her mind, Warrick's reassuring voice in her ear. "I'm not desperate," she protested, voice small. At least, she didn't think she was.

You don't want it from him. It made her look up to meet those dark eyes. "What don't I want from him?"

Small fingers closed, arm tense in his hand, but she didn't try to jerk away, even if their current conversation was painful. Even if his grip on her wrist was almost painful. "If his is the wrong bed, then who's is the right one?" She sounded close to tears. Frustrated and overwhelmed. "You didn't want me before, why do you care now who I get affection from?"