It was black and ugly and sharp and pliant. It was capable of twisting and morphing and shifting into whatever she needed it to be. It could be dangerous. It could be capable. It could be soft, or sweet, or deadly. It did not care what others thought, and it did not rely on those around her.
There was a beast that thrived inside of her.
It twisted and lashed and consumed. It burned with scalding heat, and crippled with paralyzing chill. It was amorphous and subtle, but it was there. Always there, always active - like a volcano, sometimes long dormant, sometimes forgotten, but always present - simmering - churning just beneath the surface.
There were times when things were quiet and she was alone. Her gaze would touch on the bible. A shirt. A pair of mismatched socks tangled up in a pair of her forgotten silk stockings. Confusion would run rampant and leave her feeling almost a little terrified - like she'd made a horrid mistake that couldn't be taken back, couldn't be silenced. She could hide from the influences of others, but Sasha Antoinette Belrose could not hide from her own thoughts.
She could not hide from him. Her savior. Her rock.
She could not hide from Washington Becker.
Ravvlet
i miss u ima go lay in the bed u slept on and smell the pillowcases
Ravvlet
u should design us matching friendship tattoos with a tree and a moon ok
this is a thing u should do
Ravvlet
p.s. i farted in your rental car
Ravvlet
p.p.s. i didn't really but i should have
Ravvlet
p.p.p.s. johnnie didn't like the goat milk
Ravvlet
but he's kind of a babby (we already knew that)
Ravvlet
i'm still laughing about friendship tattoos
Posted: Tue Aug 12, 2014 7:59 pm
He had been worlds away, and for so long.
The coldly lit halls of the Deus Ex dormitory was almost like an alien landscape - so many new faces; so much other. It was like some fevered dream - as if he would reach that worn threshold marked "118" in matter-of-fact lettering and find he had been replaced.
Wash's steps quickened. It had been too long. He took in a deep, reassuring breath, nostrils flaring, and smelled -
It was as if he'd been drowning, and had gotten his first rush of air, that sweet oxygen forcing its way into his colapsing lungs, pushing out the darkness and solitude of his endless days shifting from outpost to outpost.
Her. The heady scent of her perfume greeted him at the door, and he hesitated before turning the handle.
She wondered, sometimes, how things would have ended up had they never been brought together (like some sort of asteroid soaring through space only to collide with another); what if it had been someone else and not one Sasha Belrose and one Washington Becker. She fancied the thought that maybe - just maybe - there would have been another night on the beach with gritty skin and crashing waves and the scent of one another mixing with the brine of the ocean air.
She heard the footsteps; they were utterly familiar despite the months that had separated them. She could feel her heart align its beat with his footfalls; when his movement stopped, her heart followed suit. She didn't breathe.
Would he be disappointed with what he saw?
Her hair would not be cut at the same length it had been; no, it would be far, far longer and drawn over one shoulder in long, loose waves. Her features would not be quite what they once were - no scars, no marks. Her body, more waif-like and far less toned than it had once been. Her skin, a little paler. Perhaps she was a little taller, a little slimmer, a little more wicked.
Her eyes... those pale eyes shifted with a darkness she had come to embrace. Part of her wanted to taint him with it, as well - to dim the light he harbored inside of him, replace it with what crawled within her. She was a little unhinged, a little bent, a little skewed - but if he could not bring her back to center as he always, always had...
Perhaps she could twist him just a little.
The handle turned, and Sasha rose to her feet. There was a smile on her lips, one that actually warmed her cool eyes.
"Wash."
Quote:
laughing so hard oh my god saving this for posterity
Posted: Tue Aug 12, 2014 8:28 pm
Some part of him recognized she was different - shaped by a seperate crucible, in their time apart. It would be troubling later, perhaps, when the scent of her was not assaulting his senses. When that spark of warmth was no longer in her eyes, reflecting the desperate fire in his own.
Wash was a man reduced to a single, pure note; a clear and chiming need that resonated throughout his being. A desperate hunger overcoming the listlessness he'd borne in the long days past.
"Sasha." One deep, harsh utterance.
It only took a few long strides before he was looming over her, desire naked across his now-grizzled features. His body had been hardened by his labors, and firm muscles sang as he roughly jerked her chin up to bring her mouth to his.
This was home, his body bending to hers, consumed by the flame she'd lit in his heart.
He was never more beautiful to her than he was when he was like this. It was a powerful thing, knowing that she could drive him to this. Wash was a good man, and Sasha knew it - she always had. Part of her hoped he would always stay that way. There was a piece of her, small and grotesque, that entertained the thought of ruining him. Sasha knew she had the power to do it. It was etched on his face, burned in his eyes. It was in the timbre of his voice, the touch of his hand.
It was a heady thought. More powerful, even, than the touch of his lips against her or the uncomplicated scent of his that filled her nostrils.
Sasha flattened her palms against his chest when he kissed her. She was a wicked, wicked thing - and he was clean and good and pure and hers. It had been so long, but even still they fit together like the pieces of a puzzle - perhaps her edges were a little rougher, the picture on her piece a little darker; perhaps his edges were a little harsher, the picture on his piece a little brighter.
Sasha was the one who broke the kiss, pulling back with a low purr. She lifted her hands to cup his cheeks.
"I've missed you."
Ravvlet
Posted: Fri Aug 15, 2014 8:39 pm
"Mmmm." He rumbled. Wash let his thumb wander up from her chin, lazily tracing the contour of her cheek.
He missed...this. Everything. Her purrs, her wicked smiles; the contained violence and calculation in her every movement. She was like a wild thing, other, and while he was hers, she was never fully his. It was that lack of control that kept him dancing, spinning on the edge of madness - on the border between heaven and hell.
He sucked in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. Overwhelmed. His finger brushed her lip -
"I see you been busy," he teased.
It was almost remarkable - she was flawless, new. The differences were minute but interesting. A very large part of him was quite eager to investigate further, and he let his eyes roam.
Sasha tilted her head slightly to the side. Busy? She supposed it was accurate enough. She hadn't accomplished as much as she'd have liked; there was still quite a lot to do, but in truth she'd been having a little too much fun doing things she probably oughtn't have done. It was of no consequence, now. Sasha was not the type to apologize. Not anymore, not ever again.
It was as if, upon her return from Scotland, she'd shed all vestiges of her normal, weaker self - and she'd become something different. Sasha no longer feared. There was no reason to. Perhaps it was a little reckless, a little wild - but she was uncaged, awakened.
Sasha pulled back from Wash just enough to give a little pirouette. Her hair twirled around her like a thick, black cloak - and the impish smile she gave the Moon was only a taste of what crawled beneath her skin.
"I'm almost like my old self again," she trilled, the tip of her tongue touching against her lip. In truth, those were the only pieces of herself that she missed. Little reminders of William. Delicious and divine, but lost to her now.
Her voice dropped, and Sasha's entire demeanor changed. A little wicked, dark, beckoning.
