Deleted
Deleted User
I was deleted!
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Post by Deleted on Nov 21, 2015 18:23:07 GMT
She should have known. With the way Bandit was acting up, fidgety and flashing his canines in the lamplight. With the anxious set to the autumn air, thick with promise of what was to come. She should have known, but she just didn't.
Caught off guard while helping a civilian and unsuspecting a form of attack, Bobbi acted purely off instinct. Hand reaching for the holster hidden under her worn down shirt, tucked in between the small of her back and her jeans, she snatched her police issued weapon and clutched her dog's leash tighter as her eyes sought out the creature behind the growl. This wasn't her first encounter with a werewolf, but it was the first time she had to look out for someone other than herself. She knew Bandit would fight her hold, wanting to protect just as he was bred to do, but as a glint caught her attention from the corner of her eye, she figured maybe she wouldn't have to watch out for Louly after all. A hunter, because who else would be carrying around a blade in their boot, ready to take on the shadowed figure.
The hushed growls and constant tapping of the wolf's claws echoed in the night, each second bringing it closer and closer.
And like that, shocked out of her stupor, Bobbi sprang into action.
"Go," was screamed, ripping at her vocal cords as she shoved at the girl. There was no way they'd be able to fight the creature in the open park, not with so minimal light and so much open area. They'd have to run.
Taking off in a sprint just as Louly did, she set her sights for the direction of the motel, that being the closest building at this point, and just praying they'd make it.
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Louly Summers
Annonymous
yo, just visiting!
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Post by Louly Summers on Nov 21, 2015 23:39:11 GMT
Louly did what a teenager in trouble does best: run. She ran and ran, her lungs working overtime and a blush across her cheeks from the rabid wind, its claws almost as sharp as the wolf's behind her.
She ran because it was two against one, and she worked better alone. She ran because she was told to. She ran because she wanted to live.
Her bag thumped along at her side, the painful butt of her pistol inside it jamming into her ribs with each stride. She hadn't had enough time to draw and load her weapon. She'd regret that for many moons to come.
She swallowed mucus and bile to even her breathing, making sure she could hear the swiping of paws from Bandit against the ground and his owners heavier steps.
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Deleted
Deleted User
I was deleted!
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Post by Deleted on Nov 25, 2015 2:39:14 GMT
Tsunamis always start out as ripples, and no one ever remembers their humble beginnings deep in the placid seas, only the destruction they wreak once they get going, and how they end.
Everyone knew how they’re story would end. An act of victory, or maybe one of shame- or even with no act at all. A simple slip in the sleep, something so seemingly peaceful. One final breath. No further thoughts. Just gone.
No one will remember Bobbi’s start. They won’t know of a mother who hadn’t spared her daughter a second glance as she split the scene the day she was born. They wouldn’t know of her forlorn father and the losses he’s faced, the sacrifices he made. They wouldn’t know of the bond she’d shared with her brother, someone who held the same fate as herself.
No one would remember those ripples, or the knocking of plates deep under the ocean’s weight, or the first chapters of a young girls life.
But they would remember this, you can bet on that.
The sound of booted feet colliding into the gravel mingled with that of trotting paws and panted breaths and mumbled curses and sacred prayers. It was deafening and oh so silent, the world upright, but only by a thread. One foot in front of the other, one shaky exhale, one desperate inhale. She was fighting for her life, side by side with a stranger and herded by her companion.
Thing is, you can’t out run fate- and you certainly can’t out run a determined werewolf with you in its sights. This was over before it began.
The motel was just ahead, the vacancy sign flashing like a beacon of hope. A figure lurked by a car, ducked in through the open door as they shuffled through their belongings- oblivious to the danger heading their way. She wasn’t sure who said it- and if it was her, how she’d managed to- but a voice screamed for help, in warning, just begging for this to be over. The man, as it seemed, slicked out of the vehicle quick, eyes wide as he observed the onslaught about fifty feet out. Then he was in motion.
It all happened so fast. One moment there was a light at the end of the tunnel, a promise that they’d make it out alive. Then nothing. A rancid darkness as the world twisted on its head. A glance back showed the wolf on their heels, just before it moved to pounce- but not on her, no, on the girl. Young and shady, but who was Bobbi to let her die? To not even try fighting for this woman’s life. Without a second thought, she wielded her gun, halting her motions as Louly and Bandit ran off.
Ready. Aim. Fire.
But it wasn’t quite enough. It’s never enough. The wolf whimpered, but didn’t retreat. No. It turned it’s attention to Bobbi, and then it was just too late.
Claws and teeth, another gunshot- it was a bloody mess. The creature fell flat to the ground, painted in a woman’s blood.
The woman stumbled, lips painted crimson and insides held in by only the palm of her hand. Her eyes dimmed, the blue dulling into a pale gray- raised slowly to catch the girl’s shadow, her dog’s yelp echoing in her ears as he raced back to side. But not quick enough, never quick enough.
And like that, a Starr had fallen.
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Human
Written by Megan.
75 posts.
21 years old.
bi bi bi.
I am Male.
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Post by Maddox Kane on Nov 25, 2015 2:51:40 GMT
It was supposed to be a simple night. A box of take-out safely stashed on the nightstand beside his bed, a movie set up and ready to roll, and a new pillow thanks to a little flirting, successfully distracting the maid so he could snatch it without her paying too much mind to it- but of course, he’d left his bag of assorted drinks in the car.
It was supposed to quick. A run to the car, grab up the bag and oh look, he’d left his charging cable in here too- he’d need that, even if nobody bothered to call him, but hello, games- when his world went flipside. Half in, half out of his car, he bolted upright as a screamed echoed in the cool night air. All it took was a glance, and he’d knew this wasn’t going to end well. Forgetting everything he’d meant to grab, Max dropped into a sprint and raced empty handed into a fight he wasn’t even close to prepared for.
He recognized the creature. The one night he thought it was finally time he get into shape and headed out behind the motel to take a run in the woods, he’d run into something in the middle of morphing into a man. No, he didn’t faint. Okay, maybe just a little. Fine, he woke up in his room, on his bed covered in leaves and dirt, with a man wearing his boxers glaring at him and making him promise not to say a word about what he’d seen. Maybe this was a gang thing, or a rogue serial killer, or maybe it just so happened werewolves exist? Great. It’s not like he really needed to exercise anyhow. Max hadn’t left the room for a week after that little encounter.
So he knew what this was, and he knew it wasn’t good.
In a blink of the eye, he had the blonde in his grip, pulling her back as he watched the woman with the gun go down- taking the wolf down with her. Crap.
In a frantic shout, he demanded, “Call the cops! Now!” before racing towards the bodies, putting the younger girl behind him as he crouched down beside the woman. Her dog was whining, and she was sputtering blood. This wasn’t good, oh god this was not good at all. He didn’t know much medically aside from what t.v. had told him, but as he catalogued the damage, he knew that it was too late. This wasn’t something she’d come back from. Tears welled in his eyes as he watched her lips work around words, no sound leaving her. His hand sought out hers, gaze batting up as he caught sight of the other one in his peripheral.
All he’d wanted was to get his stupid drinks, and here he was sat on the ground in a pool of someone else’s blood as he tried to console her.
Max was not going to let this woman die alone.
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Louly Summers
Annonymous
yo, just visiting!
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Post by Louly Summers on Nov 25, 2015 3:31:30 GMT
Louly watched, because that was all you could really do when fate took over. Everything slowed. Life was a buffering video at that moment. Her fingers could not break through the lag, and the knife so skillfully held in her hand lowered, falling like a dead weight.
Her mouth hung open, lips widely pursed in a loose 'o' of disdain. She hardly even noticed the oncoming flash of movement, but after realizing it came with a voice, her head snapped up in an eerily mechanical, tense way.
'What will the cops do?' She thought, lips twitching as she found herself blocked from the scene. She'd barely felt his touch. The blonde lurched forward, snagging the thickness of Bandit's collar to tow the canine back, and then approached slowly, a few fingers looped through the fabric to steady the shepherd. "Bandit will be okay," she said in a weak, comforting voice. It was the best consolation she could come up with; the two were attached. She knelt and pulled Bobbi's hair from her face, the small gesture meant to make Bobbi more comfortable before passing. LOULY Summers
Louly knew death. There was no on-site rescue team to offer surgery. So, she'd learned to make do with the little resources she had access to; very seldom were they tangible, material possessions.
And, after lifting her hand slowly from Bobbi's chilled, flushed face, she snaked her hand into her shirt and retrieved her lifeproof cased, older generation Android and swiped the "emergency services" button. Her eyes shone like dew on endless greenery, painted lightly with tears that her eyes managed to swallow up before they fell. She wished she could speak to the boy that'd swooped in, but the silence felt safer to her. Nevertheless; her eyes were a tell-all: she was furious, mortified, miserable, clueless, hard. But her body was still in shock.
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Human
Written by Megan.
75 posts.
21 years old.
bi bi bi.
I am Male.
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Post by Maddox Kane on Nov 25, 2015 18:09:31 GMT
It was a waiting game. A race between the woman's final breaths and the surge of sirens yet to come, and to his dismay, he was all too aware who'd win.
Death was never something he'd dealt with first hand. Not with people, anyhow. Television sure had a way of glorifying it, and god, they've got all the details so close to spot on, and yet so very wrong. Max was watching a woman die. A woman he'd never met, let alone be able to name, and yet he knew so much. She'd given her life for this girl, no questions asked. She'd slain a creature that surely would have pursued both Max and the other female had it not been put down. She'd taken her last breath with a smile on her lips, hand clasped in the dog's fur, who he assumed must have been the Bandit from the other girl's assurance, as he nosed his way into her space.
She died knowing things would be okay, and wasn't that just the cherry on top of the cake? Because how could they be? How could things just be peachy while he listened to the girl beg for the cops to hurry over to their address? While his heartbeat flooded his ears, drowning out everything other than the German Shepherd's desperate whines? While on his knees beside a lifeless body? While he had someone else's blood tinting his palms, crusted under his nails? While the culprit of the murder lay dead in a matted mess of fur?
How could things ever be okay again?
His fingers tangled in the dog's fur, scratching in a soothing manor, trying to calm the poor canine's broken heart. Not that it worked all that well, but he could try. He'd have to try. He couldn't just let her dog whimper in turmoil, he'd have to find something to do with it. Surely she had some family Bandit could return home too.
"What was her name?" Max finally managed to croak out after she'd ended the call, needing to know who this hero was.
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Louly Summers
Annonymous
yo, just visiting!
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Post by Louly Summers on Nov 26, 2015 1:48:11 GMT
Louly stuffed her phone back into the crevice between her navy blue sports bra and chest and lowered her bag to the ground, careful not to smudge the bits of flaking blood on her fingers across her makeshift dress. Even if the stain came out, the memory of it was seared into her mind.
She took her time answering, looking collected but somber, her gaze like melting steel. She lifted her chin to address him and met his gaze, trying to pin him there to calm him down. "Bobbi," She said, the word hanging in the air between them. It wouldn't be long before the shock wore off and the painstaking need to spit every self-loathing, angsty crap statement she could.
She'd never gotten somebody killed before - but then again, she normally worked alone. She was the omega of her group; it was an unspoken understanding between her and the other trainees. None of them came from paradise, considering the fact they were busting ass at a restaurant and learning how to poison knives and kill werewolves on the side. So they let her go. Really, it was every man for themselves in that land. Nobody openly grieved when they lost someone.
But damn if Louly wasn't going to blast off into a fit of anxiety within the next few minutes.
"Hey," She brightened for a brief moment, "clean yourself up." She drew out a container of wipes from her bag and offered them. It was better to be blunt than see him vomit or cry over the sight of blood. She wanted to sit with Bobbi until the rescue squad arrived; she'd hold vigil there patiently. She had enough to think about that she could sit there all night and keep busy.
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Human
Written by Megan.
75 posts.
21 years old.
bi bi bi.
I am Male.
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Post by Maddox Kane on Dec 8, 2015 16:52:11 GMT
Bobbi. What an odd name for a woman. For a savior. He’d expected something more elegant, but he couldn’t say the name hadn’t fit. Rough around the edges, didn’t fit in anyone’s box. She was resilient until the end. Unique at the moments that mattered. Herself until the end. Or at least that’s as much as he could gather. From the show of strength and hesitant last breaths, she seemed to be a rather remarkable woman.
Max couldn’t draw his eyes away from the wound, irises darkened with fear, pupils blown in the dim lightening. He was terrified- a familiar feeling, he’d never been safe, but this was different. Then had been harm, violation. This was death. This was permanent. Bobbi would never see another sunrise. She would never have another tomorrow. No more dreams, no wedding band on her left ring finger, no kids to chase around. Nothing. She seized to exist from this moment on. A weight on people’s minds, but nothing more than a rotting corpse in a sacred grave.
He could feel the acid rising in his throat, his stomach clenching, and the stale granola bar he’d eaten as brunch curdling. He was going to vomit. Blood on his hands, blood on his face, because he was an idiot and had gone to cover his mouth, halting just as his fingers brushed his cheeks- no blood on his lips. This was worse than those nights spent under his father’s fingers, and he was going to lose it.
Until, that is, there was a voice in his ears and a carton of wipes waving in his peripheral. On autopilot, he nodded thanks and cleaned himself up. Scrub his palms, dig at the mark on his cheek, but nothing he did got the grit out from under his nails. He would be haunted- just another thing added to the long list of things to torment him.
The sirens were a surprise. Not gradual, but suddenly just there, ringing. He could see the lights flashing around the corner, but still couldn’t move. Why couldn’t he move.
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Louly Summers
Annonymous
yo, just visiting!
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Post by Louly Summers on Dec 12, 2015 0:31:38 GMT
Louly remained at Bobby's side, holding a strict vigil, eyes unable to settle on a single thing, moving around her head like two synchronized pin balls. She was as quiet as the dead until the emergency responders squealed in. They didn't stay long - there was no evidence of human involvement. Their dark eyes and frozen expressions were enough to end their stay with the police after a few bland, routine questions and a few white lies.
As the vehicles pulled off, one by one, Louly brought the shock blanket each had gotten closer to her, a gesture far too innocent and too intimate to do around the steep-eyed officers. Around the strange, marble-faced boy, she was less guarded physically. She'd been standing beside him, bonded in quiet and baby wipes for the last twenty minutes.
She turned to him, mouth opening but not moving for a moment, the cold sliding through the dry skin of her pale lips. "I'm... I really should get checked in." She didn't make any move to leave. She felt less confident without Bandit at her hip. The dog had gone off into the patrol car, headed to a shelter until one of Bobbi's possibly non existent family members claimed him.
The thought made Louly's stomach churn. But she wouldn't throw up.
She'd seen worse, but not with someone innocent beside her - someone whose shock was almost as bad as the death its self. "...are you gonna throw up?" Her voice was small. Hesitant. Much unlike the growling, calm, stiff voice she normally used. She never really used that sort of tone anymore, but she'd never really had to comfort someone like this.
She lifted her hand to bunch up her hair in a fist and looked away, cringing at her choice of words. "Shit," A small, breathy chuckle seeped into her words, but it was by no means a sound of joy.
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Human
Written by Megan.
75 posts.
21 years old.
bi bi bi.
I am Male.
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Post by Maddox Kane on Dec 12, 2015 18:23:36 GMT
It was all a blur. Between the insistent flashing of squad cars, high pitched squeals radiating off of the lone ambulance, and the shuffling of crew men and women around the stone still pair, Max had just zoned out. At some point there was a blanket being tucked over his shoulders, a hand meant to be comforting, but too heavy on his quivering shoulders. A voice buzzed in his ear, promising that the two had done the best they could, but there would have been no saving the woman after the first vital moments of the attack. The looks were grim, and he could only collect from the morbid expressions and damp eyes that Bobbi had been someone important- but who? There were murmured mentions of a lost cop, and oh god- the blood on his hand belonged to that of a deceased police officer. One that had thrown herself in harms way to spare an innocent. A modern day saint. Where were people like here when he needed them?
A blink of the eye, and everything had gone dark. No lights, no noise. Just him, and her.
It must have been somewhere between seeing the body bag and the sudden silence that he'd lost his senses, but he couldn't stop the words from leaving his lips as he offered to let the girl cool down in his room before facing society- also known as the grudgingly rude woman behind the desk, and suddenly, they were fidgeting around his room. He was sat at the edge of his bed, picking at the crusted red flakes under his nails. No, he hadn't thrown up. Yes, he had really wanted to. Of course it'd have been him to get into this mess and not his pesky neighbor.
Blinking blindly for a moment, he finally shifted his attention to the girl, tugging the blanket closer to his chest, effectively hiding his tainted hands and his shaking frame. "Max," it was a soft whisper, the first word spoken since they'd entered the room, "I'm Max."
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Louly Summers
Annonymous
yo, just visiting!
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Post by Louly Summers on Dec 13, 2015 0:51:21 GMT
Louly had graciously accepted his offer to hole up in the trembling boy's hotel room. Not only because it was the polite thing to do, but because she couldn't let him go. Not like that. He looked rough-and-tumble, but his reaction to the scene they'd witnessed was eating away at her.
She could feel his nervous vibrations. She could feel the fear scratching at his skin. There was something familiar about his reaction to things - like maybe, maybe he'd seen tragedy before.
After the door clicked shut behind them and she settled in a very contorted kneel against the wall, he decided to open up. And being the guest, she returned the favor. "Max?" She repeated abruptly, making sure she'd not heard his soft introduction wrong. "I'm Louly. Hi." How else was she meant to respond? She was used to being vague but polite when invited into someone's house. During her days as a naive, jay walking teenager, she'd gladly holed up in another's house more than a few times. It was like clockwork, what to say.
She didn't seem too ill or thrown off. Her voice trembled, but it was not a weak one. It was assuring. It was confident. She sat tall against the wall, staring off with her burning, damp eyes and chapped lips set in a relaxed line. "Here - I'll go get us some coffee," She muttered, deciding aloud it was a good idea.
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Human
Written by Megan.
75 posts.
21 years old.
bi bi bi.
I am Male.
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Post by Maddox Kane on Dec 13, 2015 16:02:46 GMT
Yes, Max because no, he was not about to say Maddox- because that led to a conversation about why and what that even meant and he really wasn't in the mood to get into his suckish childhood while his hands were trembling due to everything but the chill in the room. He nodded along as she spoke. Huh, seems like he isn't the only one with parents who don't know how to properly name their children. Good to know. Louly. He wondered where she came from, and how she seemed so calm given the circumstances. Was she one of the wolf people too? Maybe one of the fabled hunters he's heard about- hushed talk in the library, some kids having an in depth conversation about what to do about the were-creatures. He'd overheard them on his first outing after fainting in front of an actual werewolf. He hadn't left his room again for another week after that.
Seems supernatural and general weird just made up Beacon Hills. Fantastic. Great. Max sure knows how to pick 'em.
A grunt was his first response to coffee, because really he'd prefer hot chocolate- coffee reminded him too much of his mother and he had never cared for it given he was never offered any of the milk and sugars that made it actually pleasant to the taste buds. Black was too bitter, but that may just be what he needs to snap him out of this shock. Plus, with her out of the room for a moment, he could sneak into the bathroom and give himself a quick scrub down without having to worry about her stealing his minimal belongings. Which was ridiculous, really. What was she going to take? Some of the plastic silverware he'd jacked from the local fast food restaurant? One of his cheap pillows? He didn't really worry, really, but a moment to himself may be good. Or bad. He didn't know.
"Yeah," he finally vocalized, eyes darting her way for just a moment before they fell back to his lap.
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Louly Summers
Annonymous
yo, just visiting!
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Post by Louly Summers on Dec 14, 2015 4:14:55 GMT
Louly was good on her word. She trapezed down the hallways with her pocket change, and left with two cardboard to-go cups, her fingers sticky from pockets full of sugar packets and creamer bearing the same names as candy bars nobody really liked. Still, she'd take a bit of sweetness whenever she could; denying yourself any simple pleasures wasn't something any isolated girl would do. Even though she'd been surrounded by her twisted family of hunters, all of them held an aloof note to them; nobody had truly wanted to be there. They were treated well, but at what expense? Their lives were ultimately cut short.
She knocked on the door before entering, not giving him enough time to vocally call her in, but giving him notice of her return in case he was still revved up and sweating adrenaline. She didn't want to scare him, much less be attacked out of fear.
When the door clunked and squeaked shut behind her, she left her spot at the threshold and stood, waiting patiently for his return. She looked slightly less rumpled, her clothes more fitting for the winter chill (black fleece leggings, a large, presumably men's flannel halfway buttoned, a lace trimmed gray tank top hugging her skin underneath. Despite her coziness, she wore the same shoes as before. It seemed too trusting and invasive to kick off her shoes.
She set her little flimsy cup down on the bedside table, careful not to disturb its swaying legs that made a baby deer seem graceful, along with the handfuls of sugar and creamer and waited for him, free hand wrapped in her hair, twisting around unbrushed strands. She was a creature of habit, always pulling and twisting at her hair or chewing gum - anything to keep her moving and occupied.
She glanced around the room with tired eyes, still wearing the day's events on her face;wondering what a boy like him was doing in a lived in hotel room, all alone. She was trying to figure him out, but they'd hardly look at each other.
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Human
Written by Megan.
75 posts.
21 years old.
bi bi bi.
I am Male.
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Post by Maddox Kane on Dec 14, 2015 22:46:44 GMT
The faint click of the door closing echoed through the room, knocking everything into place. He couldn't stay like this, and he knew that. Sure he did, but did he move? Or even think about it the moments after the girl had fled? No. His mind did dabble with the idea that this Louly character would have just ditched him. It'd make a load of sense for her to cut the scene- who'd want to stay after witnessing a murder? Especially with it being partially (majorly) her fault? He wouldn't hold it against her if she blew off the whole coffee thing and made a run for it.
Max would have probably done the same. Well, there was no probably about it, actually.
It could've been a minute, maybe closer to five, but with a wiggle of his toes, Max was on his feet and darting for the bathroom. First, he meager meal of the day ended up splattered along the porcelain walls of the toilet. A toothbrush shoved between his lips as soon as he found himself upright, Max dug his fingers into the back of his palms, flesh gathering under his nails in an attempt to properly rid himself of the blood. It was an alternating course of action. Scrubbing hands, scrubbing teeth. Back and forth, over and over until his gums were painted red and his hands glowed with the heat of the water and his viscous ministrations.
He doesn't know how he did it, but he'd managed to gather himself enough to enter the main room just shortly after the door creaked back open. He made a move for the bed, not acknowledging her for the moment- needing to collect himself before he spilled word vomit all over her. His face was paler than the white sheets beneath him, the blanket back in place around his shoulders in a blink of the eye, tucked in close to his body and his gaze unfocused, but directed somewhere on the far wall. He made no move to grab the drink she'd brought in, rather focusing his breathing and swallowing around the bitter mint taste coating the inside of his cheeks.
"Thank you," he finally whispered, eyes finding her to note the change in clothes- of course he was curious, blinking owlishly at her for a moment before he was hit with the sudden advice of 'don't ask, you don't want to know. He turned his attention away, wondering how he was supposed to go about this exactly.
His hands stung, eyes bloodshot, and tongue tasting faintly of blood. How was he meant to act normal?
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Louly Summers
Annonymous
yo, just visiting!
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Post by Louly Summers on Dec 16, 2015 1:05:30 GMT
"There's sugars and creamer if you want 'em," She made a noncommittal gesture toward the rickety bedside table, catching his gaze and holding it for a moment. Her mouth pulled a bit at the edges, in a not-quite smile. It was meant to be reassuring, but she wasn't the best at comforting anyone but herself.
She leaned over to offer him the drink, her movements a little strained, almost as if she was in pain. It was a silent ache against the small of her back, the scrapings of tree bark freckling her skin in a dark connect-the-dots game with a deep purple backdrop. Louly's front tooth clamped down in the inside of her lip as she mulled over some gimmick that'd break the ice burg floating between them.
Several crumpled sugar packets lay in her free hand, definitely empty and loud in a way that said: 'look at me, I poured seven sugar packets in my coffee!' She made a sound that came from the back of her throat, like a strained laugh she couldn't follow through with. It resembled the sound one made before breaking out in sobs, but in a much less tear-at-your-heartstrings way.
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