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 Posted: Mon Dec 21, 2015 10:13 am
Backdated 11/25Deep night reigned after the evening passed slowly. Thanksgiving evolved into a trade of needs and wants, for which they spoke their thanks to each other wordlessly. They hadn't remained on the couch, as Bindhi had attested in the pub, but the trade was a welcome one. Isaiah was grateful for the change of venue, and Bindhi's considerations for the pair of glaring, derisive lacerations that stood out from pale skin.
Isaiah laid sprawled on his stomach to avoid further agitating pressure on his injuries. They already castigated him balefully for the evening's practices and the strain they endured. His stertorous breathing wound down not long ago, and now he only waited for his thudding heart to still. Sated, dulled hazel eyes stared at the wall and beyond for some time, relishing the great, languid lack of thought and its subsequent lack of torment. His attention wandered to the relaxed state of his muscles, no longer under siege from low, yet ubiquitous levels of anxiety.
For a time, he knew, there would be no barriers here.
When his gaze left the wall, it settled on the way Bindhi's curly, voluminous hair splayed out over the pillow. It sprawled like it owned everything it touched. A sea of near white it was, perhaps bone by color, set apart from her tanned skin. Briefly he wondered if it was dyed, but he found no evidence of roots by look, touch, or pull. One hand reached for one of the farthest waves, which he attempted to curl around one bony finger, but the weft of hair sprung from his efforts as soon as it could. Unconquerable, came the thought through the expanse of nothing. How fitting.
After abandoning the hair attempt, his touch found the smooth skin of her forearm to pace over gently. While his touch grew more firm at times, nails never met the surface of her skin. That time had passed. Drawing a breath, he spoke, though his voice sounded rough at first. "I used to watch some terrible movies as a kid. And I always thought it sounded as cliche as as a trucker with a beergut when a man would call a woman beautiful after sex. As if she wasn't before. But, in some cases, it's irrevocably true. And you start to sound stupid and cliche for saying it, and you think it means nothing, and you start to wonder if you're really just as flat as that character on the silver screen. But, after a while, you realize it needed to be said." He paused for the time.
"The answer is yes, if you're wondering. This is my roundabout way of calling you beautiful." He thought about getting up then, because he always knew it was better to leave on a positive note, but the heat of the sheets and the pleasant soreness of muscles convinced him to stay a measure longer.
"Isaiah Zähne is my real name, but I'm happy to answer to Gwen."
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Posted: Mon Dec 21, 2015 3:14 pm
For her part, Bindhi was grateful for the lack of words, preferring to lose herself in the giving and taking. And it had only made thing more interesting to find ways to accomadate Gwen's injured leg.
And after she was more than happy to lay there and bask in sleepy warmth. She was already half asleep when she felt his hand in her hair and then on her arm. Cracking open an eye, she grinned a little as she watched him, wondering just what was going on in that mind of his. And when he started talking, the grin faded into a thoughtful and somewhat startled fit of blinking. This was not anything she'd expected to hear. And while she might've been tempted to dismiss it as a sort of pillow talk, she could hear the sincerity and the smile returned. Only to widen as he introduced himself.
"Thank you, Isaiah," she murmured quietly, pushing herself into a half-sitting position and stretching lazily. Oh, she'd been called beautiful enough times in just the sort of scenario he'd described, but the compliment had never felt quite real. She found her hand brushing self conscious against the ugly puncture and tearing scars that that b***h Captain's youma had bitten into her and sighed. His compliment had included all of her, scars and ******** up coping mechanisms included. It added something, thought she wasn't quite sure what yet.
"Y'know, it's almost too bad that I knew about your leg ahead of time. We could have played compare the scars."
Scooting over a little closer, she reached out and began to gently knead his back, just wanting simple physical contact at the moment. And from his back, her hand worked it's way up to his shoulders and into his hair.
"How's the leg holding up? I might have some leftover painkillers from my last hospital stay if you need them. And you're staying, by the way. It'd be rude of me to kick you out all things considered. And you really shouldn't be walking from here to your place."
Giving his hair a playful tug, she grinned and chuckled, "Your choice as to big of little spoon, but gonna be fair and warn you, I might get grabby if you let me be the big spoon."
Any leftover voices of guilt and self damnation had been trussed up and locked away for the night. For now, she was happy enough with how things had turned out.
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Posted: Thu Dec 24, 2015 4:32 am
"I think 'compare the scars' only works when the staples are out. Otherwise it's just 'compare the gaping wounds'." Of which, luckily, Bindhi had none. For a time, he was reminded of figure drawing class, where he preferred to spend his time animating the stretch marks and scars on the human body rather than the worn-out tattoos that the occasional model bore. Skin never told any stories when it looked perfect, and Isaiah wasn't interested in a lack of stories.
For this, Bindhi had plenty - and she needn't tell any of them for him to be interested. Isaiah was perfectly capable of making up those stories. Perhaps the scars on her cheek came from a bird kept recently, or perhaps they came from one of the youma crawling the street, or a cat, or even the hand of another during a drunken rage. Perhaps, more exotically, she did it to herself. And sometimes still, scars formed that enduring mystery that left even the owner of them guessing on how they came into existence. In a sense, scars were the last frontier on human knowledge and discovery.
Isaiah happily melted into the mattress at the behest of her hands. The fingers in his hair produced goosebumps in a light flush along arms. It almost always did. "It's still attached," he muttered, half-in the pillow. "It's pretty pissed at me. I can't take codeine or percs or anything like that, but if you have some ibuprofen... I could definitely use it right now."
She had a point - Isaiah knew from his own experiences that venturing out into the heart of Destiny City now spelled disaster. Draining, starseed ripping, or plain old conventional murder were three prevalent options that took place during these hours. Coupled with being crippled, he wagered he was an easy target. And while that directly conflicted with his wariness over too close of an interpersonal connection, he decided he would prefer risking that over getting wholesale slaughtered in an alleyway. Although, in being reduced to hamburger, I won't have to worry about developing feelings for anyone.
Then again, my remains would probably get eaten by homeless people.
Isaiah craned his neck back with the tug in his hair. He arched an eyebrow. "Spooning, not forking, hmm? You can be the little spoon so I can get grabby." Afterward he melted back into the bed, arms splayed toward the headrest. "Your bed is phenomenal."
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Posted: Sat Dec 26, 2015 7:02 am
"Hrmm, fair point," she murmured as she slid off of the bed and headed for the bedroom door. "Hold on a mo' and I'll go get you some. You want the recommended dose or the stronger-not-so-recommended? Oh, and don't mind Sanskrit, he's well trained to stay off the bed if i have someone here."
Even as she spoke, a small dog whruffed softly as it darted in to the room and around the bed to sit and stare quizzically at the strange human. But as promised, he didn't make any other noises or try to jump up and after a moment, satisfied that this new person wasn't an unwelcome intruder, trotted right back out as Bindhi returned with a small bottle of ibuprofen and a bottle of vitamin water.
Setting both down by his hand, she got back on the bed and laid on her back, hands under her head as she grinned and stretched out, feeling random bones popping softly.
"I'm not going to object if forking is involved. As for the bed, one of the few solid benefits of having money, my friend."
Moving one arm, she reached over and laid it across his back, wanting that little bit of contact.
"Thank you for not arguing by the way. I'd've felt guilty if your friend with the scythe had gotten you if you'd tried to walk home. It's just not safe if you're not in condition to run or fight back."
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Posted: Tue Dec 29, 2015 5:52 pm
"Mm," Isaiah drew in a breath and scraped a hand through tousled hair before deciding on his options. "I'll take the less recommended dose. And uh, care to tell me why you named your dog after a writing convention?" At least, he was fairly certain that Sanskrit was never spoken, and incredibly ancient.
But, as he looked at the dog and the dog looked at him, she was quite correct about the dog's habits. He need not worry about a slobbering face standing over him and waiting for exciting walkies. Isaiah propped himself up on his elbows and cracked the seal on the drink. A count of four pills was given to him, which likely equaled the strength of the doses he was getting in the hospital. After scooting the lot of them off the bed and into his hand, he dropped the four into his mouth and took a swig of the water. Past experience allowed him to swallow the four without consequence. "Thanks," he added at the end, though he wasn't certain if the words were necessary. The pills left a slightly bitter taste in his mouth.
"Call me crass, but I'm surprised you weren't glad when your parents died." He wondered the same of his father - if the man had an insurance policy taken out that would benefit his ex-wife or his son postmortem. He doubted it; while prison afforded many luxuries, money management wasn't one of them, and he expected that such policies required regular upkeep. By now, the man hadn't much left to give to either of them, besides peace of mind.
Which only reinforced, in his mind, that he could definitely marry for money. And tits.
Maybe love wasn't part of that equation anymore.
"I could've argued." He took her contact a step further by drawing himself onto his (good) side and curling an arm around her. "'Getting murdered' isn't very high on my list of things to do. It's a little permanent. To be honest, I'm not sure why we still see people walking home alone anymore, or doing anything that involves putting themselves at risk. There should've been an app or something by now that lets people coordinate with each other so they could at least brave the night in pairs. That is, after all, when the monsters come out to play."
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Posted: Sat Jan 23, 2016 5:52 am
"Because it's cute and I liked the sound of it, of course," Bindhi replied, laughing a little. Oh, she knew it was a weird name for a dog, but it was also unique and that suited her just fine.
She sighed a little and took the time to mull over his words. Had she been glad that she'd killed her parents? No, not really. She remembered very well how sick she'd felt after. There'd been an odd relief though after. Knowing that her step mother could never have another moment of control over her life.
"No, not glad," she finally answered quietly. "My dad meant well overall and I still miss him sometimes. My step mom, though, she could be rotting in hell for all I care. Even with her, it was less glad and more Oh Thank God. I hated being shipped all over just because she didn't want me around."
Archign an eyebrow at Isaiah admitting that he could have argued, Bindhi's lips twitched in a smile.
"And had you argued, I would've called you a brat and thumped you on the head until you listened to sense. As it stands," she sighed and shifted just enough to turn and plant a light kiss on his cheek. "You decided to be sensible, for which I am grateful. And people, on the whole, are stupid. They think they're invincible and that the bad things will always happen to someone else. At least until it happens to them."
Scowling a little, she thought that the only way an app like that would get any actual use was if it also promised hours of mind-numbing game time and getting laid once the walk was over. Like she'd said, people were stupid and wouldn't be bothered to think logically. Not even after how many years of a magical war going on all around them.
"The monsters need to find a better way to pass the time," she finally muttered.Strickenized I am so sorry for the delay. RL has been interesting.
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Posted: Mon Jan 25, 2016 7:43 am
I've never particularly thought to myself that a dead language sounded like a great fit for my canine companion - especially without prior attachment. Then again, my cat's name is TastyKake so I don't have much room to criticize.
"See, I'm not always out to get myself murdered." He smiled proudly, ever enthused to receive affection. "I'm not sure people are stupid so much as they're shitty statisticians. Even if the percentage of getting attacked by some monster at knight is exceedingly low, that only renders the event improbably - not impossible. And yet people still get it confused with zero. There's bound to be some jackass out there right now, thinking there's absolutely no way he could get murdered on a knight like this - the stars are out, the lamps are lit and spaced evenly, and there's cars going by every fifteen seconds. Surely no one would try something. Then lo and behold, someone or something jumps out of a dumpster and murders him in five seconds flat - conveniently between cars. It's a disappointing fact of humanity." And people want to protect this. People are honestly going out and risking their lives for thankless strangers, and for what? The good of humanity?
"Personally," he pulled himself closer, "I think the monsters would be having a far better time if they spent their time getting laid instead of killing people. It's much more fun, in my opinion. Besides, murder gets rather messy fast, and it's awfully permanent. Imagine killing someone over a disagreement. That's quite the pisser if you suddenly realized you made a mistake." Though the occurrence behind it was common; people quite often killed each other over minutia.
It just so happened that domestic murders of the conventional sort happened far less often here.
"I don't know." The words broke an ephemeral silence between them. "We live strange lives out here. Nowhere else would you find someone cowering from the dark due to tried and true monsters - not muggers or serial killers. I guess we're fortunate in our little dystopia." Fortunate to have dire lives. Isn't everyone killing for drama?Daisymilk that's okay! i hope things have resolved in a good way for you!
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