I
Iliana
Guest
Original poster
Ace told a beautiful story.
She told a sad one with a little slices of regret and remorse in them while she felt over the tattoos as Marce did. They all seemed unorthodox as to why she got them, but the tale behind them was enough to keep him interested. He looked from her lips when she talked and the tattoos as she described the origin. He had never heard her talk that much before. It almost seemed like it was privileged. As she told her stories, Marce followed her words with his fingers trailing over each and every inked blotch on her exposed skin. He tried to feel what he had felt when they looked at the pictures of 2 out of 47 girls. He wanted to feel the regret when she talked about her best friend. He wanted to see the rest of the UV tattoo. He wanted to pay respect to her lost grandmother with the image of the birds. Each time she switched to a new easel of art, Marce walked along with her down the nostalgic road.
She was starting to get quieter, voice dropping falling a tone until finally she remained silent. Marce looked over to her, blue eyes glowing with the dim of the tablet. It hadn't been touched in a while so it powered down to standby mode. He didn't mind. In fact, he let the device slip to the side of his hip, letting it fall down on the couch. He was still doing work. He was getting to know this 'Reflection' better.
"I don't have any tattoos. Never wanted any. Ops aren't supposed to be afraid of needles. My Drill Serg once said, 'A needle ain't nothin more than a skinny knife tryin to stab ya. Who said you were scared of a knife?' Besides, we had so many tests done on us, I thought we were all just test rats for a good minute My blood was drawn, transfused, stored. It was all security, they said. Yeah. If I turned up missing, they could find me with that stuff."he paused, smiling down at her.
"I should do that to you sometime. Take a bit of blood while you're asleep so the next time you leave, I'll know about it. I'll always find you, Grace."
He didn't mean to say the next words. They came out. They bubbled in his throat when caught eye contact with her. He slipped his fingers down to her hand and twitched, letting it hover. His teenage, boyish self came back, looking at her hand as he grabbed it in his own.
"Look. I'm sorry for scolding you like some over protective father. I know I told you I don't have to protect you. It's not my job. It's not. It's not my duty to let you stay in this house. It's not my business to know about you, your past, and your tattoos. It's not my job to keep you close to me. I don't know why I fucking do it."he said, giving a fake laugh before he let her hand go to string his hair back.
"I'm going to Romania in two days to pick up Emily. You're coming with me. We're getting a hotel 12 miles away from where she is and we're only going to stay there for half the day. One room, one bed. I want you to be ready."he paused to look into her eyes with a hidden smile.
"And if you're not ready, I can make you ready."
She told a sad one with a little slices of regret and remorse in them while she felt over the tattoos as Marce did. They all seemed unorthodox as to why she got them, but the tale behind them was enough to keep him interested. He looked from her lips when she talked and the tattoos as she described the origin. He had never heard her talk that much before. It almost seemed like it was privileged. As she told her stories, Marce followed her words with his fingers trailing over each and every inked blotch on her exposed skin. He tried to feel what he had felt when they looked at the pictures of 2 out of 47 girls. He wanted to feel the regret when she talked about her best friend. He wanted to see the rest of the UV tattoo. He wanted to pay respect to her lost grandmother with the image of the birds. Each time she switched to a new easel of art, Marce walked along with her down the nostalgic road.
She was starting to get quieter, voice dropping falling a tone until finally she remained silent. Marce looked over to her, blue eyes glowing with the dim of the tablet. It hadn't been touched in a while so it powered down to standby mode. He didn't mind. In fact, he let the device slip to the side of his hip, letting it fall down on the couch. He was still doing work. He was getting to know this 'Reflection' better.
"I don't have any tattoos. Never wanted any. Ops aren't supposed to be afraid of needles. My Drill Serg once said, 'A needle ain't nothin more than a skinny knife tryin to stab ya. Who said you were scared of a knife?' Besides, we had so many tests done on us, I thought we were all just test rats for a good minute My blood was drawn, transfused, stored. It was all security, they said. Yeah. If I turned up missing, they could find me with that stuff."he paused, smiling down at her.
"I should do that to you sometime. Take a bit of blood while you're asleep so the next time you leave, I'll know about it. I'll always find you, Grace."
He didn't mean to say the next words. They came out. They bubbled in his throat when caught eye contact with her. He slipped his fingers down to her hand and twitched, letting it hover. His teenage, boyish self came back, looking at her hand as he grabbed it in his own.
"Look. I'm sorry for scolding you like some over protective father. I know I told you I don't have to protect you. It's not my job. It's not. It's not my duty to let you stay in this house. It's not my business to know about you, your past, and your tattoos. It's not my job to keep you close to me. I don't know why I fucking do it."he said, giving a fake laugh before he let her hand go to string his hair back.
"I'm going to Romania in two days to pick up Emily. You're coming with me. We're getting a hotel 12 miles away from where she is and we're only going to stay there for half the day. One room, one bed. I want you to be ready."he paused to look into her eyes with a hidden smile.
"And if you're not ready, I can make you ready."