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 Posted: Thu Mar 13, 2014 8:39 pm
He wasn’t dead. On some arbitrary whim of fate he had survived. It was like Wonder Park, like the O hunter trials, time and time again he was spared for reasons he did not fathom. He was only half conscious and the strange static had reminded him of the old television they’d had in the shop. He’d always been uncomfortable with the blast of static when you turned it on. There was a distant, irrational urge to switch off a screen in another time and place to resume the silence.
When sensation came back, so did the cold and it seemed to run in every vein, every part of him, settling in for the patient long haul. Butch was gone. He was not sad or happy about this.
He wondered if it was a dream, nothing felt real, being carried, being dropped, even the voice, unfamiliar left his dazed mind wondering if it was someone else, someone from his past, some memory he’d forgotten the way he did all irrelevant things.
He had to have slid in and out of consciousness, because when he next surfaced from the void it was in another place. He was still cold, so cold that it seeped into everything and he was human. These were the fact he possessed. The other fact was that he couldn’t see. This was the most troubling fact of all. The fact that he had no idea where he was was not a troubling fact to him. It made no difference where he was, he was the same fixed point in his own universe. He ached but pain was the anchor.
Hours passed. Hours and hours. And he waited, silent and robotic, the rise and fall of his narrow chest the patient metronome of his time. And he listened. He listened and smelled, testing the warm heavy air. There was no hurry. He did not hurry for anyone or anything.
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Posted: Thu Mar 13, 2014 8:53 pm
Without being obvious about it, she'd been watching. Twitter was a fountain of information. With just a few sentences, America had informed her that Jan was in trouble. Probably dead. Possibly really ******** up. If he'd survived any of what they'd sent him off for. So she checked, in an adorable attempt at being nonchalant, for signs of him in the infirmary. Nothing obvious, or noticeable. Just a little check, here and there. It was important, she reasoned, that he remain alive. If he died before the good people of Deus, she knew the odds were never going to be in her favor. But he had survived, and she'd noticed it the same day they'd brought him. He was unconscious most of the time, but no one seemed to care that a little girl like her would visit. She looked predictably harmless, checking up on him - waiting for him to resurface. Waiting for him to be conscious - because otherwise, she was just wasting her time. Her presence meant nothing without an audience. There was a difference in his breathing, from sleep to waking. She could tell it, and she capitalized on the noticeable subtlety, by crawling up into the bed beside him and slowly curling up against him. She looked like a child curled up against her father, and again, no one questioned it. She waited patiently against him, because she wanted him to speak first. But because she had no idea he was blind, her face was still the picture of worry and regret.
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Posted: Thu Mar 13, 2014 9:10 pm
Against the cold that radiated through him, it was difficult to differentiate the ambient temperature of the room from the deep rooted ice he felt he'd become, trapped within that hellish circle he'd envisioned in his last moments. Despite these limitations, there was no question of body heat, it did not over-ride the chill but it contrasted against it.
The person curled against him was warm and in a moment of tangential logic he considered that it would be most ideal to have Butch here to be able to sink his claws in and draw that warmth out along with the attached fear, to inhale and take in that which his companion had in abundance.
He moved to curl against her, to embrace her warmth and to trail his fingertips across her skin, exploratory but too patient and methodological to be affectionate. Identity was the final and least of his concerns, touch and smell said he was dealing with Maebe, but none of his senses could be trusted without his eyes.
"To whom do ah owe this pleasure?" he said, slowly and carefully, every word a feat of enunciation,his tongue and throat still injured from his venture. But despite speaking as Jan, despite his voice having all the bright intonation of the persona, nothing about his expression changed and nothing about his mannerisms, he remained detached and almost robotic and the way he reached out to curl about her was more reminiscent of some deep sea creature twisting and twirling tentacles around a poisoned fish than a human genuinely seeking reassurance in their plight.
"Ah can't see a darn thing." he clarified.
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Posted: Thu Mar 13, 2014 9:22 pm
In the moments where his hands explored her face, she wondered if he'd gone mad. It was much simpler than that, and yet, so much more disappointing. His eyes never focused on her, but his body wrapped possessively around her, and she felt like an anchor, keeping him on the ground. A strange, painful stifling tensed her entire body up at the mere idea. He had no idea who she was, but she was there, and that was enough. But worse than that - so much worse than that - he couldn't see her. Her worried expression melted from her face, leaving disappointment and annoyance in its wake. "It's Maebe." Her voice, however, did not match her empty expression, still kept up with the ruse of empathy. "I heard you were in danger. I've been checking in - I just, wanted to make sure you hadn't.. you know." The tiniest little smile twitched one side of her lips, but she pushed it down again. Just in case. "What happened out there?" Her hand lifted to wave in front of his face. "Are you going to be all right? Do you need anything? Seriously. Anything." Well, at least that was a kernel of truth.
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Posted: Thu Mar 13, 2014 9:40 pm
His instincts had been correct, even with his sense of smell numbed by Butch's absence, even with everything aching and functioning at a fraction of capacity he had been correct that it was Maebe. She'd come to see him and that alone was curious and of interest. Not a lot was of interest in his world. "I think that I did die missy." he said, slow and unhurriedly. It was not a logical statement, at least not in the world they all used to inhabit. But on the island it made as much sense as anything else. "But now I ain't."
As she waved her hand in front of him, he felt the disturbed air but his cold blue eyes looked through and past it, unfocused and no more alive than they were at any other time.
"And I don't need anything." He had never needed anything, even air and food were optional when death held no fear. "But." And he took a moment to rest before he continued on. "Ah'd like to be able to enjoy you. But if wishes were horses -" He traced his fingertips with uncanny accuracy along the line of her carotid artery in her throat, down to her collarbone. "You can get me my weapon back. If you can."
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Posted: Thu Mar 13, 2014 9:55 pm
Admitting that he'd died meant admitting that he was human, and that fact was cemented by the request he had of her. He was lying there, alive, recovering, admittedly blind, but human. She hadn't known that was possible. Her hands reached up, touched his neck, felt his pulse. It felt the same. She was disappointed. "You poor thing," She coo'd, leaning in to kiss the side of his neck. "I didn't even know you could live without your weapon. I thought this was like, a permanent thing. Where is it now, do you even know?" She had no intention of going on an epic search for his weapon, and something told her it wasn't going to be as easy as open up a drawer in the room and there it was. In fact, she was already assuming that the current holder of said weapon was the exact same man who she'd been warned to avoid, at all costs. Caelius. Maebe had no intention of sticking her neck out for Jan. "If you can tell me where it is, I'll do my best for you." She promised, comforted by the warm blanket of her lie. Her hands wandered, brushing down the length of his arm, and up his chest. "You're still so cold." That, at least, was true. He was already curled around her, soaking in what little warmth she had to offer. But sadly, Maebe was never a very warm girl to begin with. He would find her inadequate, in that respect.
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Posted: Thu Mar 13, 2014 10:11 pm
He noted her against his neck, pressing presumably for a pulse and he wondered why. He was evidentially alive. He moved and breathed, he spoke. He was animate. Perhaps animate was a more appropriate word than alive, he fell short of some of the categorical requirements of sentient life. Perhaps she would kill him, he thought. Perhaps some ploy unfurled around him as he remained oblivious. He did not shy from it.
The assumption that he was upset at the loss of Butch rather than simply reaching out for strength and recovery was one he approved of. "I have no idea missy." he said with a pained chuckle. No idea where it was, no idea if you could live without a weapon. All were lies of course, Butch was wherever Caelius had him and he knew without a weapon you would deteriorate, the weapons were a parasitic creature, they gnawed a hole in their host and when torn out their chosen metaphorically bled to death.
He felt no pain or hollowness without the ghost dog, but he missed the ability to draw what he needed from the huntress. And she would tolerate it because she tolerated without end that which she felt she could never reach her.
"You have no idea." he said in response to her assessment of his temperature. Resuming the mantle of his personas made him feel strong in lieu of physical strength. "It doesn't matter my sweet filly. About the weapon I mean. I am glad of the quiet without it. And as for the the cold, well. Nothing warms up a cowboy like a sweet thing like you by his side."
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Posted: Tue Mar 18, 2014 1:04 am
There was nothing sweet, or warm, about her. She felt him slip back into his old habits, and that reassured her in a strange, uncomfortable way. He was himself again, because he wasn't himself. And that meant he would be just fine, when all was said and done. Maebe snuggled carefully closer, relishing that delightful thought. "It does matter. You asked me for help, and I want to help. I just don't know how, yet. I guess I can just nurse you back to health until we figure out just how to get your weapon back and make you all better." She ran her fingers down his chest, and his stomach, and then circled back up again. "I really want you all better, Jan." Her fingers rose up, fluttering against the side of his face, and then disappeared into his short hair. "Do they give you sponge baths here? Or brush your hair? I could do anything you need, you know." She was being awfully helpful. baneful sorry that took so long im in a real bad place rn
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Posted: Wed Mar 19, 2014 8:29 am
And there was something safe about Maebe. Despite the fact she would throw him under an oncoming train if it was to her benefit it was an honest state of being. As far as he saw it, she was hollow or convinced herself she was and that was simple. Emotions were the only unpredictable things in the world and she suppressed or misunderstood hers and set herself within his power. She was his doll, his perfect blonde familiar. Off island they could have formed a vicious alliance, fleecing people, extortionate prenuptials and divorces, he could have gotten a cut of what rewards her beautiful body could reap.
"You certainly could." he added. "You could help this cowboy back into the saddle and see what gratitudes came later." Her touch was heightened in the complete darkness and his skin rose in gooseflesh under her touch, he could never tell if it was a subconscious revulsion, attraction or some combination of both.
He wet his dry lips and exhaled shallowly. "But I could certainly appreciate being pampered." He could not, but he could appreciate her.
Nio Love No problem at all <3 I know those feels and appreciate all tags during those dips, take as long as you like.
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Posted: Tue Apr 08, 2014 4:43 am
His answer was exactly what she was hoping for. No matter how superficial and shallow the reasoning might have been, he accepted her help, and that was enough. She leaned in and pressed a shockingly tender kiss against dry lips, and then moved to sit up again. "Good. I've been pampering myself my whole life - I'm an expert at it." She was gone, then, without explanation. It only took a few seconds, but without knowing what she'd left to do, it might as well have been forever. She returned, carefully sitting on the edge of the bed beside him once more. On his lips - without warning - she rubbed a soft chip of ice across the skin. "I'm here now." She assured him, an undertone in her voice that couldn't quite sound seductive, or even sweet. Just an assurance. "Let's see if I can't make your stay here a little more comfortable." baneful POST-META RP CATCHUPAPALOOOOZA. Since this situation is way in the past I don't mind if you wanna end it there, either ways fine with me, but here have a post!! <3
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