She could only nod in reply to his final statement, though she didn't live within the confines of poetic language. They wouldn't carry each other. She would carry herself, perhaps with help from Metarie and even the stranger-turned-friend, Everett, and Lucian would be gone. Out of their sight and out of their protection - he would be gone.
She reached up to hold the hand lying on her shoulder and apply her own pressure, wishing she could keep him in one place, where she could at least keep an eye on him and not worry herself sick over his location or state of being. But this was not how life was. She remembered her father's passive gaze when she'd left their homestead. How he'd kept his pain away from her as much as possible, to let her make the difficult decision to leave without guilt hindering her steps. She would do the same.
She met his eyes. He was not dead; he might not die. But nothing was certain anymore, and she couldn't take the chance that he would die without knowing what she'd done.
"I have a confession, Lucian. Today, when I found you...I was going back to that place. I thought you had been killed. I wanted to stop anyone else from dying because of me."
She took a deep breath, gathering her wits. She longed to drop her gaze, look at the floor or meet Flame's beady eyes across the room, but then the gypsy would not be able to understand her. She pressed on.
"How much is one human life worth? The little girl, Wolfhound, your torture and now this mark - how can I look upon all that has happened, and not wish it to end?"
After all that has happened, after all that's been done to keep me alive...how can I not hate myself?
The true question hung back, stayed by her tongue and will though she desperately wanted to voice it. But she already suspected what he would say. Still, it darkened her eyes and smoothed her features with a mounting depression which threatened to break into pain just beneath her forehead. The question burned through her, but she housed the pain it brought and ignored it to focus on what she had voiced.
A bard in time saves...
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Lanya Caliope
- Fugitive
- Posts: 266
- Joined: Thu Jun 16, 2005 12:49 am
- Race: Human
Re: A bard in time saves...
You're wearing your anguish again.
Re: A bard in time saves...
Lucian sat and watched.
He watched every word, took in every flicker of emotion from her face, from her eyes- and he was filled with compassion, genuine compassion, for his sister who did not believe she was worth any of it.
But he saw, too, what she held back from saying.
And he choked on his words, tendons visible in his neck at the strain of emotion. He coughed, once and looked back at her, his eyes glistening over.
For a moment, his answer could not come.
Then-
"I am deaf because I cannot hear." He spoke tensely, quietly. "But you are blind because you will not see." The words alone were not angry, but a spark of anger snapped in his eyes.
"You think you were the cause of my torture? That you ripped the fingernails out of my hand?" His voice did not rise so much as a single decibel, neither did it quicken. But he connected with what he had seen in the streets, when she had found him, and his rasp was thick with conviction.
"Did you throw the club that crippled my wrist? Did you beat me to the point of death in the streets? Could you have done something to stop it?"
"Were you the daemoness in the wood who stole my hearing when I was just a boy? Did you rip me open with your claws, shrieking until my ears burst and bled? Where were you when I lost my hearing?"
He took hold of both of her shoulders, his chest heaving, a sheen of moisture over his eyes as he walked over the memories he spoke of. For a long moment he held her there, searching into her eyes, and he shook his head a little, frustrated by her, but desperate for her to see what he was saying.
"You want to take credit for the work of devils, and I swear I do not know why."
He watched every word, took in every flicker of emotion from her face, from her eyes- and he was filled with compassion, genuine compassion, for his sister who did not believe she was worth any of it.
But he saw, too, what she held back from saying.
And he choked on his words, tendons visible in his neck at the strain of emotion. He coughed, once and looked back at her, his eyes glistening over.
For a moment, his answer could not come.
Then-
"I am deaf because I cannot hear." He spoke tensely, quietly. "But you are blind because you will not see." The words alone were not angry, but a spark of anger snapped in his eyes.
"You think you were the cause of my torture? That you ripped the fingernails out of my hand?" His voice did not rise so much as a single decibel, neither did it quicken. But he connected with what he had seen in the streets, when she had found him, and his rasp was thick with conviction.
"Did you throw the club that crippled my wrist? Did you beat me to the point of death in the streets? Could you have done something to stop it?"
"Were you the daemoness in the wood who stole my hearing when I was just a boy? Did you rip me open with your claws, shrieking until my ears burst and bled? Where were you when I lost my hearing?"
He took hold of both of her shoulders, his chest heaving, a sheen of moisture over his eyes as he walked over the memories he spoke of. For a long moment he held her there, searching into her eyes, and he shook his head a little, frustrated by her, but desperate for her to see what he was saying.
"You want to take credit for the work of devils, and I swear I do not know why."
Yar, says I.
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Lanya Caliope
- Fugitive
- Posts: 266
- Joined: Thu Jun 16, 2005 12:49 am
- Race: Human
Re: A bard in time saves...
She flinched as he spoke of the torture, her eyes falling to her lap as she struggled not to let guilt overcome her. The excuses piled up - it's not the same, if you'd just let me pass you in that street, if you'd just walked away in the forest, you would be hale and whole without that brand burned into your skin...
She could do nothing but swallow them. He would reject every one, and she was already fighting to reject them on her own. She did not want to believe she had done this to him; she did not wish to think that her own actions had caused this. But she could not stop the suspicions pushing her closer towards hating herself. If she'd never accepted Greenfyre...if they'd never walked into that cursed shop...if she'd given up the chase months before, rather than struggling every day to live one day longer, just one...
She looked at him when he took her shoulders, and the droplets finally fell from her eyes, gaining no purchase on her cheeks. Instead they fell straight to her lap in large drops, leaving only the barest trace of their tracks on her face.
In her mind, the walls and furniture and ceiling and floor were plastered with letters, a stream of monologue running from one end of the house to the other and culminating in two simple words. She wanted to beg him to stay; she wanted to sob into his shoulder and cling to him as the first friend she'd made in so long...
Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasedon'tgo...
She kept it to herself, instead giving him a gentle smile and pressing her palm against his cheek.
"You should not leave without saying goodbye."
She did not feel the need to clarify to whom.
She could do nothing but swallow them. He would reject every one, and she was already fighting to reject them on her own. She did not want to believe she had done this to him; she did not wish to think that her own actions had caused this. But she could not stop the suspicions pushing her closer towards hating herself. If she'd never accepted Greenfyre...if they'd never walked into that cursed shop...if she'd given up the chase months before, rather than struggling every day to live one day longer, just one...
She looked at him when he took her shoulders, and the droplets finally fell from her eyes, gaining no purchase on her cheeks. Instead they fell straight to her lap in large drops, leaving only the barest trace of their tracks on her face.
In her mind, the walls and furniture and ceiling and floor were plastered with letters, a stream of monologue running from one end of the house to the other and culminating in two simple words. She wanted to beg him to stay; she wanted to sob into his shoulder and cling to him as the first friend she'd made in so long...
Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasedon'tgo...
She kept it to herself, instead giving him a gentle smile and pressing her palm against his cheek.
"You should not leave without saying goodbye."
She did not feel the need to clarify to whom.
You're wearing your anguish again.
Re: A bard in time saves...
He felt her asking, even as she did not ask, and he had to look away, close his eyes, and gather himself. This was foreign, for the first time in his life did he have any reason to stay anywhere. Now he had to leave the people who he belonged to, who belonged to him.
Then her hand cupped his face, making him open his eyes to her.
"You should not leave without saying goodbye."
He smiled, coughing an exhale like a laugh and a sigh, and wiped his eyes, shaking himself as if shedding some of the emotion that clung to him like heavy mud. For a moment he said nothing, looking at her face but his eyes somewhere else, reflecting. How could he say goodbye?
A few ideas came to him, and a little red rose up his neck and he grinned, not quite bashful.
It faded a little and he looked to Lanya, his expression and eyes at rest.
"I am not afraid, Lanya." His voice was steady as the rasp it carried. Taken by itself, the words may have seemed out of place- but they were not, because fear was at the source of all this suffocation. Fear that he would never come back, fear that she would cause the death of others, fear that both of them would be alone.
At length, he spoke again. "I want you to make me a promise." He might have smiled, but he didn't. Everything about how he looked at her, how his eyes were focused said he was wholly serious.
"I want you to promise me that you will live, Sister." He took one of her hands in both of his and squeezed it hard. "I want you to promise that you will never forget that I would go through all of this again." His eyes glinted with intensity as he said.
"Knowing what I know now, I would do it again and again."
He held onto her hand, not letting it go.
"Promise me."
Then her hand cupped his face, making him open his eyes to her.
"You should not leave without saying goodbye."
He smiled, coughing an exhale like a laugh and a sigh, and wiped his eyes, shaking himself as if shedding some of the emotion that clung to him like heavy mud. For a moment he said nothing, looking at her face but his eyes somewhere else, reflecting. How could he say goodbye?
A few ideas came to him, and a little red rose up his neck and he grinned, not quite bashful.
It faded a little and he looked to Lanya, his expression and eyes at rest.
"I am not afraid, Lanya." His voice was steady as the rasp it carried. Taken by itself, the words may have seemed out of place- but they were not, because fear was at the source of all this suffocation. Fear that he would never come back, fear that she would cause the death of others, fear that both of them would be alone.
At length, he spoke again. "I want you to make me a promise." He might have smiled, but he didn't. Everything about how he looked at her, how his eyes were focused said he was wholly serious.
"I want you to promise me that you will live, Sister." He took one of her hands in both of his and squeezed it hard. "I want you to promise that you will never forget that I would go through all of this again." His eyes glinted with intensity as he said.
"Knowing what I know now, I would do it again and again."
He held onto her hand, not letting it go.
"Promise me."
Yar, says I.
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Lanya Caliope
- Fugitive
- Posts: 266
- Joined: Thu Jun 16, 2005 12:49 am
- Race: Human
Re: A bard in time saves...
She couldn't help but smile when he grinned, knowing what sorts of thoughts might have led to the happy look. By the time he returned his gaze to her she was also smiling to reflect his mood, and the glassy sheen in her eyes was softening.
Her eyes moved over his face when he spoke of fear and she let forth a quiet chuckle as she dropped her hand back against her thigh.
"If only one thing could be said of you, let it be that you are fearless." She did not continue the thought to its conclusion in her head, envious of his ability as she was. There was no point to bringing her longing for his strength of spirit into the conversation.
His next statement and request was met with a mixture of disbelief, joy, surprise and hesitation.
"Sister..."
Joy began to radiate from her, punctuated by beams of sorrow which made the tears suddenly filling her eyes bittersweet. Half of her rejoiced in this newfound connection, this recall of sentiments long pushed aside as her own brothers remained in her past. The longing for a sibling to battle and banter with, to share life and memories with.
The other half of her weeped and begged for this not to happen now. Now, when he was about to be torn away by necessity and chance. It hurt, bone-deep - it hurt to her core. To find this now, this thing she'd missed for so many years, and then lose it within such a short time frame...
Her hands moved up again to grasp his cheeks. The grip was neither gentle nor firm, a happy medium which would leave him comfortable but force him to look at her until she'd spoken her piece.
"You must promise the same. You must swear. Swear to me now - you will live. Even should we never meet again - you will live. Please, Lucian. Don't..."
She stopped herself short with a hard sniff, then pressed on, mentally correcting her near-slip.
"Promise me that you will be safe, and come to no further harm. And I will promise that I will remember what you have given me. I will not let what you have done go to waste..."
Her tone was unsure on this last bit, harried with the doubts she felt in regards to her own worth, and how much use it was to protect her. But she would take the promise seriously, and reevaluate why she fought to continue living. No longer would she struggle with her own self-worth, her own desire for this to end. Instead, she would fight for him. And this goal would give her the spirit she needed, the spirit she could no longer rustle on her own.
Her eyes moved over his face when he spoke of fear and she let forth a quiet chuckle as she dropped her hand back against her thigh.
"If only one thing could be said of you, let it be that you are fearless." She did not continue the thought to its conclusion in her head, envious of his ability as she was. There was no point to bringing her longing for his strength of spirit into the conversation.
His next statement and request was met with a mixture of disbelief, joy, surprise and hesitation.
"Sister..."
Joy began to radiate from her, punctuated by beams of sorrow which made the tears suddenly filling her eyes bittersweet. Half of her rejoiced in this newfound connection, this recall of sentiments long pushed aside as her own brothers remained in her past. The longing for a sibling to battle and banter with, to share life and memories with.
The other half of her weeped and begged for this not to happen now. Now, when he was about to be torn away by necessity and chance. It hurt, bone-deep - it hurt to her core. To find this now, this thing she'd missed for so many years, and then lose it within such a short time frame...
Her hands moved up again to grasp his cheeks. The grip was neither gentle nor firm, a happy medium which would leave him comfortable but force him to look at her until she'd spoken her piece.
"You must promise the same. You must swear. Swear to me now - you will live. Even should we never meet again - you will live. Please, Lucian. Don't..."
She stopped herself short with a hard sniff, then pressed on, mentally correcting her near-slip.
"Promise me that you will be safe, and come to no further harm. And I will promise that I will remember what you have given me. I will not let what you have done go to waste..."
Her tone was unsure on this last bit, harried with the doubts she felt in regards to her own worth, and how much use it was to protect her. But she would take the promise seriously, and reevaluate why she fought to continue living. No longer would she struggle with her own self-worth, her own desire for this to end. Instead, she would fight for him. And this goal would give her the spirit she needed, the spirit she could no longer rustle on her own.
You're wearing your anguish again.
Re: A bard in time saves...
She was his sister, then. The sibling he had never known, who should have been there to help him up, sympathize with each other over scrapes and falls. Pull each other through what neither could survive alone.
He took hold of both of her hands, glad for the tears that fell from his eyes and from hers. The were promises to care, to remember. They were declarations that the other person was important, was irreplaceable, and would never be just another face.
"I swear it." It was unearthly, that a whisper could seem so loud, so unflinchingly certain, and so brokenly full of feeling. Sniffling back further tears and swallowing, he took her hands from her face and wrapped her in a fierce hug like he wanted to squeeze the sadness and doubt out of her soul.
"I swear it."
He held onto her until his arms were literally tired from the effort, then chastely kissed her cheek and drew back, smiling warmly at her, the dry trails of tears on his face and hers like shared birthmarks.
"Goodnight, Lanya."
Any they both understood he also said goodbye.
Lucian stood up, walked to his pallet and lowered himself to it, laying down slowly.
He would go when he felt Lanya had fallen asleep.
He took hold of both of her hands, glad for the tears that fell from his eyes and from hers. The were promises to care, to remember. They were declarations that the other person was important, was irreplaceable, and would never be just another face.
"I swear it." It was unearthly, that a whisper could seem so loud, so unflinchingly certain, and so brokenly full of feeling. Sniffling back further tears and swallowing, he took her hands from her face and wrapped her in a fierce hug like he wanted to squeeze the sadness and doubt out of her soul.
"I swear it."
He held onto her until his arms were literally tired from the effort, then chastely kissed her cheek and drew back, smiling warmly at her, the dry trails of tears on his face and hers like shared birthmarks.
"Goodnight, Lanya."
Any they both understood he also said goodbye.
Lucian stood up, walked to his pallet and lowered himself to it, laying down slowly.
He would go when he felt Lanya had fallen asleep.
Yar, says I.
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Lanya Caliope
- Fugitive
- Posts: 266
- Joined: Thu Jun 16, 2005 12:49 am
- Race: Human
Re: A bard in time saves...
She clung to him with all of her strength, her body shaking with tears that even now she fought to contain. Her efforts staunched the flow but her lungs hitched and gasped with withheld sobs.
Crying will only make it worse. Crying will only make it worse.
It wasn't long enough. He was already pulling away, and now he was kissing her cheek, and she wanted to pull him back into the embrace and hold him until dawn came and he had no choice but to stay. He'd said tonight he was leaving, but if tonight passed him by perhaps he would stay after all.
Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease...
Tears dripped and rolled from her eyes and cheeks as she took his hand and kissed it, cupping it within her own as she would a fragile fledgling. She kissed each knuckle, desperate to impart strength in him for his journey, protection for his spirit. But she had no magic to do so. This gesture would have to be enough.
Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease...
She met his eyes in silence. She wanted to speak. She wanted to tell him she loved him as her brother, as he loved her as his sister. She wanted him to know how much worse it would be for them all, should he leave. But she could not. Her throat was too tight and the sobs waited patiently for one chance to escape and turn her from a shaking, struggling woman to a weeping child.
Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasedon'tgo...
She released his hand and let him go.
He stood and moved away to his pallet, and she sat on the couch for a few minutes longer, staring at him and waiting for her eyes to dry out. Once they had, she shifted until her back sat firmly against the couch, and closed her eyes.
There was nothing further to say.
Crying will only make it worse. Crying will only make it worse.
It wasn't long enough. He was already pulling away, and now he was kissing her cheek, and she wanted to pull him back into the embrace and hold him until dawn came and he had no choice but to stay. He'd said tonight he was leaving, but if tonight passed him by perhaps he would stay after all.
Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease...
Tears dripped and rolled from her eyes and cheeks as she took his hand and kissed it, cupping it within her own as she would a fragile fledgling. She kissed each knuckle, desperate to impart strength in him for his journey, protection for his spirit. But she had no magic to do so. This gesture would have to be enough.
Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease...
She met his eyes in silence. She wanted to speak. She wanted to tell him she loved him as her brother, as he loved her as his sister. She wanted him to know how much worse it would be for them all, should he leave. But she could not. Her throat was too tight and the sobs waited patiently for one chance to escape and turn her from a shaking, struggling woman to a weeping child.
Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasedon'tgo...
She released his hand and let him go.
He stood and moved away to his pallet, and she sat on the couch for a few minutes longer, staring at him and waiting for her eyes to dry out. Once they had, she shifted until her back sat firmly against the couch, and closed her eyes.
There was nothing further to say.
Last edited by Lanya Caliope on Thu May 15, 2008 3:29 am, edited 2 times in total.
You're wearing your anguish again.
Re: A bard in time saves...
The house was quiet. Lucian stared up at the ceiling from where he lay on the pallet on the floor, opposite to the side of the room where Lanya slept on the couch. All was still, no vibrations came through the bare floorboards where his hand rested, sub-consciously feeling for them as his brain turned and chased scenarios to their conclusions.
For hours he lay there, resting but without sleep, his churning mind keeping it from coming to him. Rival emotions and ideas warred within his thoughts, desires conflicting with what the scenarios led him to.
No matter how he played it, he knew his course. What he had to do. If the judges could seize control of him at any moment and use him for their will, it was idiocy to build his resistance to them in a place where, should he fail, they could use him to do unspeakable things against Metarie. Against Lanya.
And so Lucian rose from the floor, a little stiff but as quiet as a cat, not even the floorboards creaking as he made his way quietly to the couch where Lanya slept and looked down at her. He wanted to lay a reassuring hand on her, but didn't trust himself to not wake her up.
"Good-bye, Sister." He whispered it very softly, smiling as he lingered a little longer, and then turned and silently walked to the hallway, where for a moment he paused and could not move.
He could feel her through the door of the bedroom, like whispers of her presence that trickled into his being and pulled on him, quietly asking where he was going- why he was leaving.
His throat was dry and he tried to swallow, moisture coming unbidden to his eyes. The doorway to the street was near, he turned and made one step toward it-
And stood there for a long, unmoving moment in the dark hallway.
She called to him without words, without intent, and his chest racked with emotion. He could not leave, not like this.
Lucian turned to her door and turned the knob quietly, swinging it inward and stepping into the bedroom that smelled of clean linen and, more subtly, her. Her presence flitted about the room, sending little chills through him as he gently shut the door behind him.
He stood there for a moment in the dark, sensing her life, her dreams within this room, and he whispered.
"Metarie."
For hours he lay there, resting but without sleep, his churning mind keeping it from coming to him. Rival emotions and ideas warred within his thoughts, desires conflicting with what the scenarios led him to.
No matter how he played it, he knew his course. What he had to do. If the judges could seize control of him at any moment and use him for their will, it was idiocy to build his resistance to them in a place where, should he fail, they could use him to do unspeakable things against Metarie. Against Lanya.
And so Lucian rose from the floor, a little stiff but as quiet as a cat, not even the floorboards creaking as he made his way quietly to the couch where Lanya slept and looked down at her. He wanted to lay a reassuring hand on her, but didn't trust himself to not wake her up.
"Good-bye, Sister." He whispered it very softly, smiling as he lingered a little longer, and then turned and silently walked to the hallway, where for a moment he paused and could not move.
He could feel her through the door of the bedroom, like whispers of her presence that trickled into his being and pulled on him, quietly asking where he was going- why he was leaving.
His throat was dry and he tried to swallow, moisture coming unbidden to his eyes. The doorway to the street was near, he turned and made one step toward it-
And stood there for a long, unmoving moment in the dark hallway.
She called to him without words, without intent, and his chest racked with emotion. He could not leave, not like this.
Lucian turned to her door and turned the knob quietly, swinging it inward and stepping into the bedroom that smelled of clean linen and, more subtly, her. Her presence flitted about the room, sending little chills through him as he gently shut the door behind him.
He stood there for a moment in the dark, sensing her life, her dreams within this room, and he whispered.
"Metarie."
Yar, says I.
-
Lanya Caliope
- Fugitive
- Posts: 266
- Joined: Thu Jun 16, 2005 12:49 am
- Race: Human
Re: A bard in time saves...
She hadn't been asleep when he told her goodbye. She'd remained awake, thinking, and heard his farewell. She kept her eyes closed until she heard him shut the door.
Now in the relative silence after he entered Metarie's room Lanya found herself feeling awkward. She wanted to grant them privacy, and worse, her own emotions had built to a crescendo, giving her a ferocious headache which got stronger as she fought herself.
She would not sleep soon anyway. And there was no reason to stay inside the house. The door was still broken, after all.
She stood and stretched herself out with a shuddering sigh, holding herself together with no small effort. But the time for release hadn't come just yet.
Flame watched her from his perch on the couch, his head tilted in curiosity. She placed her index finger over her lips, then gently scratched him under his chin. She mouthed "I will come back," and he nodded once in the darkness, dramatic enough for her to be able to see the gesture in his silhouette and tucked his head under his wing to doze. The bard smiled at the tiny shape and turned to make her way for the door, pushing it open and stepping outside to take a deep breath. She looked up to see the stars but clouds covered the night sky. She looked out into the street instead, one way and then the other - scanning. And when she saw no one coming or going, she sat herself on Metarie's front step.
Her knees came up to meet her chest and she wrapped her arms around her legs to keep them in place. She pressed her face into the hollow this created and released one long, shuddering breath. And now, alone in the quiet outside with no one to judge her weakness save herself - she allowed the tears to flow.
Now in the relative silence after he entered Metarie's room Lanya found herself feeling awkward. She wanted to grant them privacy, and worse, her own emotions had built to a crescendo, giving her a ferocious headache which got stronger as she fought herself.
She would not sleep soon anyway. And there was no reason to stay inside the house. The door was still broken, after all.
She stood and stretched herself out with a shuddering sigh, holding herself together with no small effort. But the time for release hadn't come just yet.
Flame watched her from his perch on the couch, his head tilted in curiosity. She placed her index finger over her lips, then gently scratched him under his chin. She mouthed "I will come back," and he nodded once in the darkness, dramatic enough for her to be able to see the gesture in his silhouette and tucked his head under his wing to doze. The bard smiled at the tiny shape and turned to make her way for the door, pushing it open and stepping outside to take a deep breath. She looked up to see the stars but clouds covered the night sky. She looked out into the street instead, one way and then the other - scanning. And when she saw no one coming or going, she sat herself on Metarie's front step.
Her knees came up to meet her chest and she wrapped her arms around her legs to keep them in place. She pressed her face into the hollow this created and released one long, shuddering breath. And now, alone in the quiet outside with no one to judge her weakness save herself - she allowed the tears to flow.
You're wearing your anguish again.
Re: A bard in time saves...
Moonlight filtered wanly through the windows. She had left the bedroom door open. Lanya had been given the couch, pillows, and blankets. Lucian had asked only for a makeshift pallet upon the floor despite her insistence that he should sleep in the bed. Lucian. Several feet and swathes of moonlight and shadows separated them. A brand separated them, as well, and she would find a way to undo the knot that had been wounded into him; intending to bind him. For what purpose? To spy upon Lanya? But, why? Metarie lifted her left hand to her forehead and pressed her palm against it in an attempt to make the thoughts stop. Muscles twitching in her jaw, she worked to focus on something else. Metarie focused instead on the beautiful mystery that happened today.
Metarie closed her eyes. She lay on her back with the covers clasped in her fingers and reconstructed every instance- from the initial touch of her hand to his body to heal him to the final trailing glance that beseeched him come to her, later. She had dispensed, finally, with the trews she had put on. She lay in undergarments and bandages, tired beyond belief, but keenly aware and alive.
Metarie could still feel the warm imprint of his hand over her heart. She focused on that feeling, seeking Lucian out, wanting to be near to him. Metarie found Lucian restless as she had been. Lifting her hand, she pushed her fingers through her hair. Metarie sat up and slipped from the bed. Drawing on a thin, white robe, Metarie decided to go investigate. At least, that is what she rationalized to herself, but she knew he called to her. Something was amiss, not right, she felt as if Lucian were pulling away from her. Metarie questioned the sensation, wondering what this new grief was.
Was there a sound of footsteps in the hallway? Metarie turned toward the doorway as the door quietly swung open. Even with her physical senses removed, she would have known Lucian. In the darkness, she used her more sensitive nature to navigate. Lucian stood out like a beacon. He spoke softly, only one word – her name. She did not bother to speak his name in return, but she called it out in her heart – a heart that pounded fierce and strong.
Lucian
An almost breath smothering excitement clenched at her chest and gut. Her skin prickled. Metarie did not remember moving, but she was next to him – against him – his face clasped between her splayed and crooked fingers. Her thumbs stroked his cheeks. Metarie tilted her head slightly to the side.
“Lucian.” Her breath, warm and sweet, would brush over his lips, followed by the softness of her lips.
Metarie closed her eyes. She lay on her back with the covers clasped in her fingers and reconstructed every instance- from the initial touch of her hand to his body to heal him to the final trailing glance that beseeched him come to her, later. She had dispensed, finally, with the trews she had put on. She lay in undergarments and bandages, tired beyond belief, but keenly aware and alive.
Metarie could still feel the warm imprint of his hand over her heart. She focused on that feeling, seeking Lucian out, wanting to be near to him. Metarie found Lucian restless as she had been. Lifting her hand, she pushed her fingers through her hair. Metarie sat up and slipped from the bed. Drawing on a thin, white robe, Metarie decided to go investigate. At least, that is what she rationalized to herself, but she knew he called to her. Something was amiss, not right, she felt as if Lucian were pulling away from her. Metarie questioned the sensation, wondering what this new grief was.
Was there a sound of footsteps in the hallway? Metarie turned toward the doorway as the door quietly swung open. Even with her physical senses removed, she would have known Lucian. In the darkness, she used her more sensitive nature to navigate. Lucian stood out like a beacon. He spoke softly, only one word – her name. She did not bother to speak his name in return, but she called it out in her heart – a heart that pounded fierce and strong.
Lucian
An almost breath smothering excitement clenched at her chest and gut. Her skin prickled. Metarie did not remember moving, but she was next to him – against him – his face clasped between her splayed and crooked fingers. Her thumbs stroked his cheeks. Metarie tilted her head slightly to the side.
“Lucian.” Her breath, warm and sweet, would brush over his lips, followed by the softness of her lips.
Last edited by Metarie on Thu May 15, 2008 2:26 am, edited 1 time in total.
A story is like a tapestry; it is never finished until the final thread is sewn.
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Re: A bard in time saves...
She was not in her bed. But then, he knew that, he realized. It was why he had come.
An electric spike snapped through the room and he caught his breath as he felt crawl across his skin, every muscle and tendon tensing like he was about to do battle with a bear, pupils dilating. He felt his own name come rushing back to him in a thrill of excitement, and in the moonlight-scattered darkness, he saw her form approach-
And she was against him, around him, warmth seeping through the robe that was wrapped around her as she captured his face with her hands, her face hovering before his, everything in her overpowering his senses.
Her lips brushed his, spreading fire through his core, daring him. Inviting him.
His left arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her against him, his other hand tangling in her hair and he kissed her, the embrace delicate and surrendering at first. But he felt himself shift within, his passion climbing out of his body because it was too big to be held within it, enfolding her, and the kiss became fierce, the embrace fervent.
And he backpedaled her across the room, spinning as he did, unconsciously leading her in dance to the bed.
Lucian stopped there a moment, pulling back from her, his hands gently on her ribs beneath her rising and falling breasts, and took her in with his eyes. As if this movement were too powerful to rush through, as if she were too much to take in a single motion.
The shirt he wore was discarded in a heartbeat.
His fingers found the edges of the robe she wore and opened it slightly, slowly, fingers sliding up hem to her neck where moved the fabric slightly and placed a delicate kissed, unable to not tremble. Thumbs hooked over the hem of the robe, fingers underneath against the skin, he slid it over her shoulders, letting it fall to the ground.
His throat closed up at her curves, her lines- lithe and more beautiful than he found thoughts to encapsulate. The bandage wrapped around her ribs somehow made her seem more delicate, more vulnerable.
Lucian was left speechless, his mouth slightly open.
She was the essence of all things feminine to him- bright mystery, clothed in beauty. His fingertips brushed her skin and he whispered hoarsely to her, shadily swathed in moonlight-
"Is this the Dreaming, Metarie?" It was whispered like a sacred secret, like speaking it might ruin everything. He found her eyes, glittering at him, and he moved against her, one hand on her neck, one against her face, heat coming from him in waves as his lips found hers and caressed them fleetingly before moving in with passion.
And he pressed in, gently lowering her to the bed beneath him.
An electric spike snapped through the room and he caught his breath as he felt crawl across his skin, every muscle and tendon tensing like he was about to do battle with a bear, pupils dilating. He felt his own name come rushing back to him in a thrill of excitement, and in the moonlight-scattered darkness, he saw her form approach-
And she was against him, around him, warmth seeping through the robe that was wrapped around her as she captured his face with her hands, her face hovering before his, everything in her overpowering his senses.
Her lips brushed his, spreading fire through his core, daring him. Inviting him.
His left arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her against him, his other hand tangling in her hair and he kissed her, the embrace delicate and surrendering at first. But he felt himself shift within, his passion climbing out of his body because it was too big to be held within it, enfolding her, and the kiss became fierce, the embrace fervent.
And he backpedaled her across the room, spinning as he did, unconsciously leading her in dance to the bed.
Lucian stopped there a moment, pulling back from her, his hands gently on her ribs beneath her rising and falling breasts, and took her in with his eyes. As if this movement were too powerful to rush through, as if she were too much to take in a single motion.
The shirt he wore was discarded in a heartbeat.
His fingers found the edges of the robe she wore and opened it slightly, slowly, fingers sliding up hem to her neck where moved the fabric slightly and placed a delicate kissed, unable to not tremble. Thumbs hooked over the hem of the robe, fingers underneath against the skin, he slid it over her shoulders, letting it fall to the ground.
His throat closed up at her curves, her lines- lithe and more beautiful than he found thoughts to encapsulate. The bandage wrapped around her ribs somehow made her seem more delicate, more vulnerable.
Lucian was left speechless, his mouth slightly open.
She was the essence of all things feminine to him- bright mystery, clothed in beauty. His fingertips brushed her skin and he whispered hoarsely to her, shadily swathed in moonlight-
"Is this the Dreaming, Metarie?" It was whispered like a sacred secret, like speaking it might ruin everything. He found her eyes, glittering at him, and he moved against her, one hand on her neck, one against her face, heat coming from him in waves as his lips found hers and caressed them fleetingly before moving in with passion.
And he pressed in, gently lowering her to the bed beneath him.
Yar, says I.
Re: A bard in time saves...
A sizzle sparked in the air. Lucian pulled her close and her breath trapped and fluttered once more. The feel of his lips against hers was like liquid heat. Something new to her – desire – began to coil within her, hot and low. Metarie moved with him, stepping backwards and spinning, but that was only the start of the dance they had begun with a kiss. Her arms wound around his neck and torso. To her, it seemed as if everything had stopped but them. Nothing else mattered in the world except this soul, this Lucian, her Tyrael – her chosen.
Beside the bed, they paused. Breath slipped from her lips as she stared at him, wide-eyed. As if unspoken, movement began again. Metarie reached for the edge of the shirt her wore, even as he did. Castoff, the shirt fell to the floor, forgotten.
When Lucian’s fingers brushed against her skin, parting the robe she wore, Metarie closed her eyes and trembled. She was like a willow, graceful branches swaying in a sun-kissed morning breeze. She was like cherry blossoms falling. On her chest, the heat of the imprint he had made warmed her skin. The heat of his gaze caused her skin to tighten. Metarie opened her eyes and looked at Lucian watching him look at her. Her pulse throbbed heavy within her. Unself-consciously, Metarie allowed him to look at her and looked at him in turn. Yes, she had seen him before, but before she had not allowed herself to really look at him. For all his thinness, he was still well-formed. He was not thick-muscled. He was sinew and bone. There were definite lines that delineated the wiry muscle of his chest. His stomach was flat and taut.
Metarie reached out to him, splaying her hand over his heart before dragging her hand down, over the sharp lines of his chest. Scars, evidence of a hard life, were lines and bumps beneath her fingers; each one a story that she would learn.
"Is this the Dreaming, Metarie?" Metarie smiled at him, but said nothing. A heartbeat passed between them and then there was no space between at all. Carefully, Lucian laid her down upon the bed. Metarie reached up for him, holding him cradled against her as they began to discover each other.
Afterwards, Metarie slept deeply. Between the efforts of the day - her regular work, healing Lanya, the incident with Idonir, healing and discovering Lucian - Metarie was fully exhausted. She had fought sleep, wanting to spend more time awake with Lucian, but he had held her, pressing kisses to her forehead and stroking her hair and her hip. Against her, he was so slim and lean, but she fit to him like two puzzle pieces made for each other. In exhaustion, in bliss, Metarie slept.
Beside the bed, they paused. Breath slipped from her lips as she stared at him, wide-eyed. As if unspoken, movement began again. Metarie reached for the edge of the shirt her wore, even as he did. Castoff, the shirt fell to the floor, forgotten.
When Lucian’s fingers brushed against her skin, parting the robe she wore, Metarie closed her eyes and trembled. She was like a willow, graceful branches swaying in a sun-kissed morning breeze. She was like cherry blossoms falling. On her chest, the heat of the imprint he had made warmed her skin. The heat of his gaze caused her skin to tighten. Metarie opened her eyes and looked at Lucian watching him look at her. Her pulse throbbed heavy within her. Unself-consciously, Metarie allowed him to look at her and looked at him in turn. Yes, she had seen him before, but before she had not allowed herself to really look at him. For all his thinness, he was still well-formed. He was not thick-muscled. He was sinew and bone. There were definite lines that delineated the wiry muscle of his chest. His stomach was flat and taut.
Metarie reached out to him, splaying her hand over his heart before dragging her hand down, over the sharp lines of his chest. Scars, evidence of a hard life, were lines and bumps beneath her fingers; each one a story that she would learn.
"Is this the Dreaming, Metarie?" Metarie smiled at him, but said nothing. A heartbeat passed between them and then there was no space between at all. Carefully, Lucian laid her down upon the bed. Metarie reached up for him, holding him cradled against her as they began to discover each other.
Afterwards, Metarie slept deeply. Between the efforts of the day - her regular work, healing Lanya, the incident with Idonir, healing and discovering Lucian - Metarie was fully exhausted. She had fought sleep, wanting to spend more time awake with Lucian, but he had held her, pressing kisses to her forehead and stroking her hair and her hip. Against her, he was so slim and lean, but she fit to him like two puzzle pieces made for each other. In exhaustion, in bliss, Metarie slept.
A story is like a tapestry; it is never finished until the final thread is sewn.
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Re: A bard in time saves...
She was graceful and rushing, like the wave of wind in tall meadow grass, sweeping down over him, pulling him closer, holding him tighter. Fire burned in her eyes, and he gave himself up to be consumed.
Lucian had never felt such a union of purpose, never been so delightfully uncertain as her hair fell in his face and he felt the heady rush of her passion, stirring him, engaging him.
At times he would whisper to her, feeling her grin above him, beneath him as he did, "Is that good? Does that please you?" At other times, he would say nothing, feeling for her reaction, her signs of pleasure and anticipation.
No student had ever been more apt than Lucian. He was not long in discerning what triggered her in thrills of delight, while murmuring to her that he could not believe he was the man to touch this hollow, this crest- to see this loveliness, that she gave it to him.
And when he felt her shiver with heat and yearning, he took her there, in silver moonlight and flickering shadow.
Worlds blended, planes shifting and briefly asserting their perspective over the lovers, painting Lucian as the daring warrior, snatching the dryad enchantress from her bower of blush magnolia blossoms and carrying her away, tendrils of gold and green lacing with dancing fingers of brilliant white all throughout the room.
Lucian felt as though he could shatter into a thousand pieces at her very touch, but in the same moment that he could lift her and hold her forever without growing weary.
She was delicate as spider silk, bending and twisting in her way with him, always as though on the verge of breaking but never coming to pass, stretching out in an infinite line that he tight-roped effortlessly.
They were mortals who had stepped into a moment of forever, and it overcame them both as they overcame each other.
------
She breathed softly in her slumber, her scent gentle and the taste of her sweetness still in his mouth. She was warm and firm against him, entangled with great intentionality on both of their parts.
How long he lay there with her, watching her sleep, Lucian did not know. But at length, he whispered to her so softly that there was almost no sound to it at all.
"It is time for me to go, beautiful lady." His heart cried out against him as he spoke the words, but even his heart did it purely out of desperation, knowing what his mind knew. "You will not want to understand, but you already do. If the puppeteers begin pulling their strings and I cannot stop them..."
He gently brushed a few stray strands of her hair from her face, smiling softly.
"I love you, Metarie Sehkhara. Only you."
Gently, gradually, he withdrew from her- only able to do so as he envisioned returning.
His clothes were pulled on in a moment, and he leaned back over her sleeping form, one final time, placing a delicate kiss on her cheek.
"Good-bye."
He ghosted to the door, and it closed behind him with a nearly inaudible click.
------
He passed out the front door and nearly tripped over Lanya. She was huddled in the front stoop, knees drawn into her chest and face down in her knees. There was no guesswork as to why she was here or as to where she had spent her night, and Lucian dipped down a little, fighting a few tears that threatened to manifest.
What I do, I do for us all.
"Good-bye again, Sister."
And he moved gently and silently past her.
Dawn was perhaps an hour away. Lucian was tired, incredibly tired- but he had made long treks before without rest, pushing himself to his uppermost limits, and never had felt his need to be gone so urgently. The air was brisk, and the breeze seemed to be coming from beyond the city, a fresh smell of life to greet him.
Deep within him, he felt an ember of rage that glowed brightly at what lay ahead, carrying the hurt and the hope of what lay behind.
Bare feet on the cool stones in the road, the gypsy traveled up Main Street, crossing the bridge over the mighty Ofriyu Mar, and with one final look back to the city, vanished into the woods.
Lucian had never felt such a union of purpose, never been so delightfully uncertain as her hair fell in his face and he felt the heady rush of her passion, stirring him, engaging him.
At times he would whisper to her, feeling her grin above him, beneath him as he did, "Is that good? Does that please you?" At other times, he would say nothing, feeling for her reaction, her signs of pleasure and anticipation.
No student had ever been more apt than Lucian. He was not long in discerning what triggered her in thrills of delight, while murmuring to her that he could not believe he was the man to touch this hollow, this crest- to see this loveliness, that she gave it to him.
And when he felt her shiver with heat and yearning, he took her there, in silver moonlight and flickering shadow.
Worlds blended, planes shifting and briefly asserting their perspective over the lovers, painting Lucian as the daring warrior, snatching the dryad enchantress from her bower of blush magnolia blossoms and carrying her away, tendrils of gold and green lacing with dancing fingers of brilliant white all throughout the room.
Lucian felt as though he could shatter into a thousand pieces at her very touch, but in the same moment that he could lift her and hold her forever without growing weary.
She was delicate as spider silk, bending and twisting in her way with him, always as though on the verge of breaking but never coming to pass, stretching out in an infinite line that he tight-roped effortlessly.
They were mortals who had stepped into a moment of forever, and it overcame them both as they overcame each other.
------
She breathed softly in her slumber, her scent gentle and the taste of her sweetness still in his mouth. She was warm and firm against him, entangled with great intentionality on both of their parts.
How long he lay there with her, watching her sleep, Lucian did not know. But at length, he whispered to her so softly that there was almost no sound to it at all.
"It is time for me to go, beautiful lady." His heart cried out against him as he spoke the words, but even his heart did it purely out of desperation, knowing what his mind knew. "You will not want to understand, but you already do. If the puppeteers begin pulling their strings and I cannot stop them..."
He gently brushed a few stray strands of her hair from her face, smiling softly.
"I love you, Metarie Sehkhara. Only you."
Gently, gradually, he withdrew from her- only able to do so as he envisioned returning.
His clothes were pulled on in a moment, and he leaned back over her sleeping form, one final time, placing a delicate kiss on her cheek.
"Good-bye."
He ghosted to the door, and it closed behind him with a nearly inaudible click.
------
He passed out the front door and nearly tripped over Lanya. She was huddled in the front stoop, knees drawn into her chest and face down in her knees. There was no guesswork as to why she was here or as to where she had spent her night, and Lucian dipped down a little, fighting a few tears that threatened to manifest.
What I do, I do for us all.
"Good-bye again, Sister."
And he moved gently and silently past her.
Dawn was perhaps an hour away. Lucian was tired, incredibly tired- but he had made long treks before without rest, pushing himself to his uppermost limits, and never had felt his need to be gone so urgently. The air was brisk, and the breeze seemed to be coming from beyond the city, a fresh smell of life to greet him.
Deep within him, he felt an ember of rage that glowed brightly at what lay ahead, carrying the hurt and the hope of what lay behind.
Bare feet on the cool stones in the road, the gypsy traveled up Main Street, crossing the bridge over the mighty Ofriyu Mar, and with one final look back to the city, vanished into the woods.
Yar, says I.
Re: A bard in time saves...
Come back to me.
Lucian was gone. Metarie knew it before she even woke. In the space between every heartbeat were the need and the wish:
Come back to me .
Sunlight filtered into her room and gilded everything in peaceful, muted tones. Metarie could smell the scent of him, of them both, still heavy in her room. They had shared one another several times in the early morning hours. New to such things, Metarie ached, but it was a good ache. She wished she could share the morning sunlight with him.
Come back to me
Lying on her back, with her arms crossed over her stomach, Metarie stared at the ceiling. A breeze ruffled a tree making dappled shadow patterns across the egg-shell white. No one had ever looked at her like that before. No one had ever touched her like that before. She had been marked. She had chosen. And now, he was gone. Inside, Metarie knew that Lucian had wanted to return; had not wanted to leave. She knew that he thought he was keeping Lanya and her safe from harm.
Come back to me
The sound of a sharp sob cut through the stillness of her room. Metarie’s arms tightened around her as sobs wracked her body and made the physical pain from yesterday all that much worse. Hot tears flowed down her cheeks, dripped on her ears, and soaked the hair and pillow beneath her head. Her body shivered and shook like a seedling in a storm. Metarie cried until there were no more tears left in her to cry, just a forlorn misery. Exhausted yet again, Metarie fell back asleep.
Lucian was gone and in the space between every heartbeat were the need and the wish…
Come back to me
Lucian was gone. Metarie knew it before she even woke. In the space between every heartbeat were the need and the wish:
Come back to me .
Sunlight filtered into her room and gilded everything in peaceful, muted tones. Metarie could smell the scent of him, of them both, still heavy in her room. They had shared one another several times in the early morning hours. New to such things, Metarie ached, but it was a good ache. She wished she could share the morning sunlight with him.
Come back to me
Lying on her back, with her arms crossed over her stomach, Metarie stared at the ceiling. A breeze ruffled a tree making dappled shadow patterns across the egg-shell white. No one had ever looked at her like that before. No one had ever touched her like that before. She had been marked. She had chosen. And now, he was gone. Inside, Metarie knew that Lucian had wanted to return; had not wanted to leave. She knew that he thought he was keeping Lanya and her safe from harm.
Come back to me
The sound of a sharp sob cut through the stillness of her room. Metarie’s arms tightened around her as sobs wracked her body and made the physical pain from yesterday all that much worse. Hot tears flowed down her cheeks, dripped on her ears, and soaked the hair and pillow beneath her head. Her body shivered and shook like a seedling in a storm. Metarie cried until there were no more tears left in her to cry, just a forlorn misery. Exhausted yet again, Metarie fell back asleep.
Lucian was gone and in the space between every heartbeat were the need and the wish…
Come back to me
A story is like a tapestry; it is never finished until the final thread is sewn.
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-
Alibi of Tyrants
- Citizen
- Posts: 53
- Joined: Wed Dec 12, 2007 3:24 pm
- Name: Everett
- Race: Human
Re: A bard in time saves...
"AH-CHOOOO!"
Everett sniffled a little bit and wiped the back of his fleshy hand across the empty ridge between his nose and lips. A thin little contrail of snot seemed to lacquer the surface of his skin with a filmy, gooey residue. The work of the sinister sinuses and their dastardly partners in crime, the various strings of pollen and soot that seem to riddle every breathable space in the city of Marn. Why on earth these two elements co-mingle to begin with is beyond Everett's ken; sometimes, he honestly wished that they would intersperse like oil and water and just keep the fuck away from each other rather than combine into some superbly badass element that seemed to choke the life out of the cavities within the skull.
He made a sound and tried to shake the goo from his skin. No such luck. Everett grimaced and started wiping the stuff down on to his trenchcoat. A nice chunky splattering of white smeared across the surface of his black trenchcoat, sloppily applied at the breast with all the finesse of a shitty painter. Not even a fancy design that he could make heads or tails of, psyche-wise. Who was that quack---Fred? Freud? He pioneered some weird-ass technique in which to delve into the mind of somebody via ink splotches. What weird and unique shape would this little splotch of white represent? A dove? No, no...the shape and texture of the snot didn't imply such a thing at all. If anything, the shape of the snot-stain reminded him of those little amoebas that he looked at underneath of a microscope. So, perhaps, an indicator of science and just maybe an extension of his wide and extensive library of eccentric lore?
Ink splotches, of all things, and now Everett tried to make heads or tails of a fucking booger stain. Boy, if only he bought into that bullshit. The gumshoe smiled lightly to himself as he reflected on it. Can't make him any more antsy or crazy than what he was, right? Eh. After carefully admonishing as much evidence of the snot-stain as he could with a sleeve, Everett pushed his way through the mid-day throng.
His destination? Metarie's. For what purpose? Shit, it was a tough thing to figure out. Even though he clearly smelled something fishy around Lucian and Lanya respectively, he decided to go against his instincts for a change---instincts that demanded him to go straight for the jugular and get down to the bottom of any conundrum that's thrown in front of him. It was strange, like he suppressed a part of himself that night when he nakedly saw the aura that surrounded that whole damn place. The aura that he implied wasn't necessarily magical in nature; there was a certain look in Metarie's eye that Everett had never quite seen before, a succinct change in character. Whoever that Lucian guy was, he managed to prick and prod around in places where it touched Metarie the most. For some reason, he didn't want to get in the middle of that. Leaving seemed like the best way to do that and when it came to Metarie, Everett knew how to leave her very well.
True to form, he neglected to drop by Rosalee's to get his arm checked out.
In spite of the human traffic, it didn't take Everett very long to get to where he needed to be. His dark eyes milled around and immediately caught an anomaly on the front porch. It was clearly the shape of a body. At first, Everett thought it was yet another player in the vast melodrama that Lucian and Lanya were obviously weaving. However, as he got closer, he realized that it was actually in fact the root of the whole damn she-bang that sprawled out uncomfortably.
"Hey," Everett drawled; his sinuses drained and seeped into his larynx and filled his voice with a nasal quality. He nudged her lightly with the tip of his boot. "You know, there's a bed inside."
Everett sniffled a little bit and wiped the back of his fleshy hand across the empty ridge between his nose and lips. A thin little contrail of snot seemed to lacquer the surface of his skin with a filmy, gooey residue. The work of the sinister sinuses and their dastardly partners in crime, the various strings of pollen and soot that seem to riddle every breathable space in the city of Marn. Why on earth these two elements co-mingle to begin with is beyond Everett's ken; sometimes, he honestly wished that they would intersperse like oil and water and just keep the fuck away from each other rather than combine into some superbly badass element that seemed to choke the life out of the cavities within the skull.
He made a sound and tried to shake the goo from his skin. No such luck. Everett grimaced and started wiping the stuff down on to his trenchcoat. A nice chunky splattering of white smeared across the surface of his black trenchcoat, sloppily applied at the breast with all the finesse of a shitty painter. Not even a fancy design that he could make heads or tails of, psyche-wise. Who was that quack---Fred? Freud? He pioneered some weird-ass technique in which to delve into the mind of somebody via ink splotches. What weird and unique shape would this little splotch of white represent? A dove? No, no...the shape and texture of the snot didn't imply such a thing at all. If anything, the shape of the snot-stain reminded him of those little amoebas that he looked at underneath of a microscope. So, perhaps, an indicator of science and just maybe an extension of his wide and extensive library of eccentric lore?
Ink splotches, of all things, and now Everett tried to make heads or tails of a fucking booger stain. Boy, if only he bought into that bullshit. The gumshoe smiled lightly to himself as he reflected on it. Can't make him any more antsy or crazy than what he was, right? Eh. After carefully admonishing as much evidence of the snot-stain as he could with a sleeve, Everett pushed his way through the mid-day throng.
His destination? Metarie's. For what purpose? Shit, it was a tough thing to figure out. Even though he clearly smelled something fishy around Lucian and Lanya respectively, he decided to go against his instincts for a change---instincts that demanded him to go straight for the jugular and get down to the bottom of any conundrum that's thrown in front of him. It was strange, like he suppressed a part of himself that night when he nakedly saw the aura that surrounded that whole damn place. The aura that he implied wasn't necessarily magical in nature; there was a certain look in Metarie's eye that Everett had never quite seen before, a succinct change in character. Whoever that Lucian guy was, he managed to prick and prod around in places where it touched Metarie the most. For some reason, he didn't want to get in the middle of that. Leaving seemed like the best way to do that and when it came to Metarie, Everett knew how to leave her very well.
True to form, he neglected to drop by Rosalee's to get his arm checked out.
In spite of the human traffic, it didn't take Everett very long to get to where he needed to be. His dark eyes milled around and immediately caught an anomaly on the front porch. It was clearly the shape of a body. At first, Everett thought it was yet another player in the vast melodrama that Lucian and Lanya were obviously weaving. However, as he got closer, he realized that it was actually in fact the root of the whole damn she-bang that sprawled out uncomfortably.
"Hey," Everett drawled; his sinuses drained and seeped into his larynx and filled his voice with a nasal quality. He nudged her lightly with the tip of his boot. "You know, there's a bed inside."
A legendary character...
Where? Only there!
When? Only then!
A hero or a hooligan, well that part's never clear...
Where? Only there!
When? Only then!
A hero or a hooligan, well that part's never clear...