You Smoke? [ Red & Brit ]

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Red Sinfonia, May 15, 2015.

  1. Osten was no capital city, but for all intents and purposes, it was a big city nonetheless. Sandra Charneski supposed that such a city, what with its armed guards and curfew, was not the best choice for her permanent living situation. Certainly, her grandmother and her brother, Robbie, had opposed it vehemently, but something about the poignancy of it made her feel some measure of security, even if she refused to admit such heresy. There was consolation within the walls, between the stern glares of the men and women who watched Osten with grim eyes and big guns. There was safety. Within, she knew it was under the case of her ever losing it. They wouldn’t hesitate to shoot. This, too, she supposed her loved ones knew.

    Today might have been that day.

    Leaving the cafe early on the pretense of being ill, equipped with a rush to the bathroom and the extraordinarily realistic retching she’d managed to conjure up, was enough for her boss to let Sandra go without griping. She thought it was with no small help of the concerned customers who were either mewling with worry or blanching with disgust.

    There was something rising in Sandra’s chest, but she knew that it wasn’t her lunch. The terror, which she had trained out of her face and suffocated when under watchful eyes, was coiling in her belly and constricting her quick movements. Vehicles being the unbearable economic burden as they were for someone who flipped through jobs like the pages of a book left her walking to work. At times like this, she regretted it dearly, though there weren’t supposed to be times like this. Feeling the hot glaze of sun burrowing itself into the back of her neck, she was reminded that her twenty-sixth birthday was still several months away.

    Dodging through the streets like a rat through the shadows of a house, Sandra found herself at her apartment building. She scanned her wrist at the door and the device blipped angrily at her, a sort of safety measure that allowed tenants to ‘clock in’ and ‘clock out’. Most of the people living there didn’t think it would ever matter. If they were murdered in their room and never ‘clocked out’, it would still take months for the landlord to notice. Guests could still come and go as they please, without so much as a ticket stub. Maybe it was just so if they were murdered, the smell of the corpse didn’t have as much time to peel the walls.

    Climbing into the archaic lift, Sandra pressed the button ‘4’ and felt the old mechanism jerk to life. The movement was a spear straight through her gut and she gasped at the weight of it. Doubling, she felt sweat bead at the pores of her forehead. Her dark locks, braided over her left shoulder, began to feel damp. Relax. Cool. Calm. The makeshift mantra repeated again and again, but the heat was still rising.

    When the sliding doors slammed open, Sandra nearly crumpled out the door. Nearly running, she slumped against her door like it was sanctuary and shoved her keys in. Damn old things. Couldn’t get a fucking wrist reader for this. The door squealed as it eased open and she pushed it closed. Heading for her bedroom, she meant to lay down, to meditate. Use what Mikami had taught her, focus the dull agony.

    Shit… shit. Too late. Her hand on the knob, she felt the ice on her fingertips, the cold metal jammed in response. A whirlwind whipped her brain into a frenzy, a throbbing building at her temples. “No! God dammit, no!” She shouted at it, gliding to the floor, her hands pressed to her head. The more she struggled, the more it grew, a persistently cruel stranglevine that meant to choke her will.

    The pain split her head like an estranged thundercrack, causing Sandra to shout, though her voice was lost to the air that had began to swirl about her living room. So the whirlwind wasn’t in her head. Still. Cool. Calm.

    The inferno began, a fiery snake crawling its way up her throat, like those that crawled down her arms. It would swallow her alive, leaving her mind to burn in its wake. The fear only fed it, the desire to make it stop pushing it forward. Her mind struggled and she offered it a buffet.

    ---------

    It had been hours before the fire receded and the winds died away. Sandra was left an exhausted husk, curled on the floor of her living room. Very faintly, with her ear against the carpet, she could hear the thrumming of music. The person below her did that sometimes, when they could hear Sandra and her screaming, but she supposed they didn’t think she was really screaming. Maybe just having very vigorous sex. No one assumed the worst around here, because then they might have to get involved.

    A sheen of sweat blanketed Sandra’s skin, and her braid had become undone at some point. She’d pulled off some of her clothes, desperate not to let the fever of the fire burn her alive. Now, of all times, the beautiful tattoos of beasts, mythological and otherwise, began to softly glow, working their magic. Working with her mantra. She would call Mikami tomorrow.

    Dark lashes framed blue eyes, eyes that felt a somber glow to them. They stared at the living room, now an utter disaster. It was mostly devoid of personal items and large furniture. What she had was now crispy and black, like the tabloid that had sat on the coffee table and the coffee table itself. “I liked that,” she told herself with a sigh, before rising to clean the mess up.
     
    #1 Red Sinfonia, May 15, 2015
    Last edited: Jun 3, 2015
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  2. The young girl's shriek filled the air as her arm was engulfed in flames, the candle she had been playing with dropping to the floor setting the carpet ablaze. He had only tried to enlarge the flame a little. How... He asked himself as his parents dashed into the room, patting his sister's seared arm down as they pulled her away.

    Thomas' dark-blue eyes snapped open as he pulled himself up in his seat, squinting at the petite Cafe attendant standing in-front of him, a barely legible ''Huh?...'' escaped his cracked lips. She shifted uncomfortably in place, shooting the white-haired man a look of disgust or contempt. Probably both... he though to himself as she began to speak.

    ''For the third time now, if you wish to stay in this establishment you simply must place an order, '' she turned to server a customer at the bar ''this is the last time we will remind you before calling for security sir.''

    I guess I've used my welcome up

    Standing from the seat he was met with a shabby reflection in the window: unkempt hair, stubble, bad posture. Even in the poorer districts of the city he didn't fit in.

    This was the sixth morning in a row he had been at the Cafe, though today it seemed they were under-staffed. He didn't know what it was, but a sense of familiarity filled him when he was here. Not just the Cafe, but the surrounding districts too, this was just the first place he had felt it, and as such had returned each day since, hoping the feeling would grow stronger. It hadn't, but it was still there, tugging at him inside.

    The frosty morning air made the 6 foot man pull the blood-red jacket he wore closer to his chest. He could warm himself up, but looking down the street he eyed five, no, six men, a patrol no doubt, a common sight in the slums. They clearly were not searching for him, but he headed in the opposite direction anyway. Wanderers like himself were usually arrested to avoid them being found in the more desirable areas of the city, as bad as the weather was, the streets were a more appealing thought than a jail cell.

    Soft stabbing pains began to cut their way through his chest, or was he imagining it? Euphoric pleasure, immeasurable anxiety and pain circling through him, dropping into the door of the closest high-rise of apartments he half expected an alarm to sound as he clutched at the pain he wasn't feeling.

    There was no alarm. There was no pain.

    What the fuck... He spat, clinging to a clock-in device as he got to his feet, sweat falling violently from his body. Doors opened, eyes peered, curious at the commotion, but Thomas' was gone, up the flight of stairs to his right, he kept climbing. Vision blurred he stopped, the unmistakable sound of heavy duty boots and orders yelled in military code caught his ears from outside.

    ''What the..'' Struggling to catch his breath the smell of burnt fabric flooded his nose. ''What the fuck is happening?''

    He was answered with a door, torched black around the sides, directly ahead of him.

    He heard the cries of his sister on the other side. His shaking hands tried turning the handle, no use, it was jammed. The screams continued as his foot reached the wood of the door, warm splinters shattering from the wooden frame as it swung open and his families' sitting room lay burning in front of him. The screams stopped.

    Wiping his eyes he was met with an unfurnished apartment, what little was there had been burnt to a crisp.
    ''Cathy?'' He called, pushing the ruined door shut behind him. No, she's not here.

    ''Bravo with me, Alpha check the upper floors.'' The smashed window panes allowed the orders being delivered outside entry to the burnt apartment. With no time to collect himself, Thomas ran further into the apartment to find a way out.
     
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  3. It had been a sort of strained peace after Sandra’s newest episode. She did what she always did when the thing inside of her railed to get out, threatening to tear her and everything around her apart. She had changed into different clothes, ones that bespoke she may be planning to head out, but comfortable enough to sleep in. Close, denim jeans torn in flattering places, a belt to keep them around her wide hips, and a soft, cotton t-shirt she’d gotten from her brother with some ancient band on it, carefully doctored at the top to sag down one shoulder. A leather thong dripped down her neck, attached to a teardrop gem that glimmered a rainbow.

    Aside from the comfort against her flesh, Sandra had boiled up a cup of tea, curled on her bed, and watched stupid soaps that she couldn’t stand, but made her feel better about herself. Shoes next to her bed, she kept up the tradition of considering going out to let some of the sour feelings shed themselves in others’ company, and then only making it as far as an express market.

    It had been the moment that she clicked to the familiar channel, armed with aggravating high-pitched voices and silly fights about who’s cheating and who’s marrying who, that the sound of her door bursting open startled her. Sandra’s hot tea sprayed onto her hand at the physical jump and she yelped.

    That was when an interesting man in a red jacket darted into her doorway and her breath caught in her throat.

    A thunderclap headache split her cranium, forcing the climbing dragon within to still and strangle itself in her belly. Sandra’s powers were spent for the moment, and she was powerless to whatever threat he promised. So she did whatever reasonable thing she could think of, she lept off the bed and threw her mug, as hard and as fast as she could, at the door.

    “Who the fuck are you!?” Sandra screeched, ready to grab a phone and dial the front desk.

    And that was when she heard the people shouting orders, originally drowned out by tea kettle and soaps. Now, Sandra’s hands trembled, and she placed them over her mouth, the inked beauties across her arms taking up a slight glow as they worked to siphon off the power leaking from her control. “Holy shit… this isn’t happening…” Grappling for her shoes, she forced them shakily onto her feet. She had a plan for this. Robbie had taken her through it, made sure that she had it, but she was sure she’d never need it. Out the window, up the stairs, leap the gap to the nearby building… Out the window, up the stairs… “What do you want? You don’t look like security,” Sandra said, her smooth voice hiding the terror she felt.
     
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  4. ''Who the fuck are you?!'' A woman's voice yelled.

    Thomas turned his head to the source ‘’There’s no ti-''a porcelain mug shattered across the side of his face and knocked his already exhausted body to the ground. Blood and coffee dripping from his head, he pulled himself up and was met with the gaze of a pretty yet plain young woman, with bright blue eyes similar to his. Confusion and anger riddled her stare.

    ''Wait, I know you,'' He coughed, wiping the side of his head down ''I've seen you in that shitty, uh, that cafe a few blocks from here, didn't take you as the type to live like this.'' He gestured around the apartment as flakes of burnt god knows what fell from the ceiling.

    That was when the voices downstairs grew louder, closer, the woman started to visibly tremble. Thomas looked down at his ragged jacket, ''Do I look like security to you?'' He jested, giving her a blank stare.

    … Out the window, up the stairs…

    A whisper travelled through his ears, am I hearing things?.... He asked himself, looking over to the girl again who was hurriedly scrambling to put her shoes on.

    ''This really isn't the best time for introductions'' He joked, ''But I'm Thomas, nice to meet you, now as much as I've enjoyed your hospitality,'' he stopped to wipe the dripping blood from his face, ''I should be leaving you to whatever it is you were doing before.'' It seemed she thought she was the target of the team currently moving room to room, in fact, searching for him, and her broken window seemed his only chance to escape.

    Moving over to the window he poked his head outside to survey the situation, ''Shit'' the white-haired stranger cursed, pulling himself inside.

    ''There's a lot out there okay'' He snapped, peering out of her door, ''There's a lot out there too.''
     
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  5. Frantically tying the laces to her short, black boots, Sandra rolled her eyes at most of Thomas’s responses. ‘Live like this’ wasn’t really what she’d called it, but she wasn’t about to tell him that her body burned up like a fucking match at complete random, or that the water from her shower sometimes liked to defy gravity and creep her the shit out. Or that calling her a ‘green thumb’ was utterly understated and she turned her grandmother’s little garden into a god damned jungle.

    Feeling a fever spike, Sandra sat up for a minute and practiced some breathing in her belly. Relax. Cool. Calm. Don’t think about that shit right now…

    The expletive casting its healing effect on her mind, Sandra felt fit enough to stand and rummage quickly through her closet. Grabbing a leather jacket and the little tin box hidden up top, she gasped when she heard a door slam on the third floor. Wiping the sweat beading at her forehead, she stuffed the contents of the tin into the pockets of her jacket and tossed it back into the otherwise vacant space.

    “Look, snark ass, you didn’t answer me as to why you broke my fucking door,” Sandra hissed, peering around him to see the splinters of it sprayed over her burnt living room. “Jesus, look at what you did!” Squeezing her eyes shut and holding up her hands in resignation, because not that it mattered at this point anyway, she threw a small shirt at him. “Stop wiping it with your hands, you’ll get it infected.” Oh, granmama, why did you have to come out of my mouth to this asshole?

    Sandra suspected, deep down, that she was probably being harsh, but then she chalked that up to bullshit because he had broken down her door. And probably brought the security with him. Or…

    Sandra turned on him, suspicion and stark dislike growing in her eyes. “You? They’re looking for you, aren’t they! I remember you! Always sitting around the shitty cafe, never buying anything-” Just as she opened her mouth to give him more a piece of her mind, there was an order shouted and the security team was coming up to the next floor. It didn’t matter if they were coming for him. Once they saw the state of her room, they would wonder… and once a security guy wondered, someone got black bagged, or shot, or interrogated, or any number of things that Sandra couldn’t afford.

    Tearing away from the door, Sandra peered out the window and saw what he meant. She pulled herself back inside and pressed her hand over her eyes. Once she went out there, the storming men below would see her, but it was her only chance. She couldn’t crowd surf the bastards.

    “Well, if you find a way to go straight through the ceiling, let me know,” she said, pulling her arms through her jacket. Strength. Come on. You know you have it. “Name’s Sandra, by the way. Um… good meeting you?”

    Taking a deep breath in, Sandra climbed out the ratty window and landed quietly on the metal emergency stairs. No one seemed to notice her immediately, as they were too busy shouting at windows and pointing guns at terrified residents, so she played it off and began to creep towards the roof.
     
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  6. ''Why are you wound up so fucking tight?'' Thomas replied, avoiding the question, looking behind him the bottom half of her door was pretty much completely destroyed, lying splintered across the floor of her apartment. Thomas caught the shirt that was flung at him and patted his face gently with it, a small and sarcastic smile crossing his face, ''Thanks'' he muttered.

    Stepping out of her way as she pushed past him, ''... If you find a way to go straight through the ceiling, let me know''
    ''Oh, I thought you were a waitress, I didn't realize you were a comedian too'' He retorted, looking up at the ceiling. If only you knew. He stood in place as she crossed the room, ''You're right, they are after me, that's why I kicked in your door.'' A breath of relief escaping from his lips, he hoped she hadn't picked up on it, sometimes a lie was better than the truth he told himself.

    Especially when the truth is haunting memories and hallucinations, oh and pain that doesn't exist.

    His self pity was interrupted by his new-found friend exiting the room. ''Hey!'' He quietly called after her, running over to the window, ''You can't- What a selfish bitch.'' There was no way he could make the climb she was attempting, his large frame would be spotted instantly. The roof, he thought, she must have have an escape plan.

    Tossing the bloodied shirt to the floor, he crept out of the door. The staircase lay at the end of the hall, there was a crumbling elevator to his right, which he didn't dare take. Three brute-sized men clad in black reinforced riot armour stood between him and his way out.

    Shit...

    Thomas felt his body temperature rising as he pulled a lighter from the pocket of his jacket, lighting it with one hand he placed the other on the flame until it spread down his fingertips to his palm, closing his eyes an invigorating rush of emotion pushed it's way through his body as sweat began to form on the tips of his fingers. He couldn't take three of them on at once, a bullet through the head is death, and that's that.

    That's when it happened, the team split, two of the soldiers began searching the rooms leaving one behind. Not wasting a second Thomas sprang from his cover, flicking his wrist forward the flames left his fingertips, licking against the floor and walls setting them alight, meeting their unsuspecting destination at the same time Thomas did, knocking the man to the ground they were engulfed in flame, jumping up again he sprinted towards the stairwell as the corridor lay in flames, faltering as a bullet cut through the side of his leg.

    Quickly he patted his coat down, collecting the fire in his palms, quenching them together the flames were gone, faint burn marks on his hands and a tattered, black jacket the only evidence left that he had ever been aflame.

    Slamming the metal door open with his body he stumbled out onto the sun bathed rooftop, hands on knees, panting, he dropped to the floor and examined his leg, luckily the bullet had passed right through. It still hurt like a bitch, and would need time to heal fully.

    ''Fuck it'' He said, ''I'm not waiting for her, I can find my own way out of here.''
     
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  7. Metal softly creaked beneath her feet, and Sandra held her breath the whole way up, praying to any god who’d listen that it didn’t get any louder than a whisper. She could feel her lungs fighting to get some sentiment of air. The emergency steps were wicked rickety and super thin, just floating against the side of the building, and she wished sincerely that she’d taken all the opportunities she could have to visit the gym instead of sitting on her ass. God damned ice cream. God damned wine… God damned food.

    As she cursed all the things that she blamed on even a slight increase in weight, Sandra was distracted enough to slam her ankle against the side, and her eyes welled up at pain and the desperation to not shout about it. So many creative, colorful words - learned from granmama, brother, and the tv - bubbled up her throat, but she fought them with all the fear of her life.

    Too little, too late, as the echoes of the travesty shook the stairs beneath her, and eyes shielded by dark glasses looked up. What they said to each other was lost on a wind that sounded suspiciously like the blood pumping through her ears, and Sandra set off on a dangerous, wobbly run. Like a cat dashing on the flowerpot before it teetered over the edge, the young woman darted with brilliant speed and fear up the screeching travesty, leaving the men scrambling frantically in its quaking body.

    Reaching the roof faster than she’d ever thought possible, Sandra nearly toppled with exhaustion paired with sick. Bent over at the knees, she tried not to vomit from sudden exertion. That was when she noticed Thomas on the roof as well, preparing to sprint away.

    Unsure of what the hell grasped her - panic, maybe, that she’d lose a situational friend, Sandra bolted at him and grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. “Good to see you found a way through the ceiling, but this way,” she urged, tugging him towards the left building. Running to the edge, she heard the cringe-worthy stairs shake behind them and minded the gap before her. It looked a little farther the last time she’d seen it, but it was this or…

    Them.

    Backing up, Sandra took a running jump, toppled, and rolled against the graveled roof. “Feels like a down mattress.” That had been packed with a few bricks, but she wasn’t going to say that. Unsure if he’d even make the jump, or would just stare at her like she was as psycho as she felt, she began to try for the roof door. It was unlocked. “Hurry! I’ll hold the elevator for you!” Fucking why? She didn’t have an answer for that.

    Entering, she nervously tapped the elevator button and thanked seven gods that the apartments here weren’t any more hoity-toity than her own that they required any sort of identification around every turn. The elevator bling-ed at her, the metal doors sliding open to gloriously reveal how empty they were. She slammed her arm against it, praying that the door from the roof would swing open. She didn’t know how much longer her courage would hold out.
     
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  8. Thomas ripped one arm from his jacket, quickly wrapping it around the the top of his calf to stop the bleeding, finishing with a tight-knot he stood to test his make-shift bandage. That's when Sandra appeared, managing a weak grimace at her remark ''If only you knew'', a sharp tug pulled him across the rooftop, limping he obeyed it's command. Watching as the woman let go to take a running jump, flying through the air she landed on the rooftop of the building opposite them.

    ''I know you're not expecting me to do that!'' He called after her as she ran inside, a smile on his face that disappeared quicker than she had. ''Fuck...'' he spat, running toward the edge he leapt, pushing his body forward he landed less graciously than she had, slamming against the warm gravel of the roof, cutting up the arm he had laid bare.

    He didn't hesitate on following Sandra into the building.

    Pushing past her into the elevator, the door slid shut behind them and he slumped against it's back wall, firmly tapping the button ''1''. A silence fell between them as the elevator descended, spying on her from the corner of his eye he wondered what exactly she was running for, but decided against asking for now.

    ''So your climb-the-side-of-the-building stealth mission turned out to be not so stealthy huh?'' His normal sarcastic tone unmissable even in his exhausted state. ''Not to worry, there's no way those bastards could make the jump in that armour.''

    You're fucking crazy.

    ''Ground Floor.'' A female, robotic voice chimed as the elevator door slid open, ''Coasts clear'' He whispered as they exited the lift. ''I don't know what the next step of your master strategy is, but we- I need to piss off out of here, soon this whole area will be surging with men ready to put a bullet in us.'' I've already had one in me.

    Luckily the building was empty, or at-least the residents didn't want to come out, the apartments didn't strike him as different to the ones in the next building, he didn't care enough to notice the differences that there no doubt were.

    Bloodied, cut, burnt, tired, confused and pissed off Thomas made for the exit.
     
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  9. The elevator’s slow descent had been a combination of peace, recollection, and what the fuck is going on. Sandra had leaned against the elevator wall, trying to ignore the elephant in the box, namely, who the shit was Thomas, what the hell was he running from, and where was she going to go now? That reality had its slow dawning, like a cold sweat across her forehead. Sardonic responses aside, Sandra attempted to recede into some sort of inner peace, only to feel the panic surface. This stranger seemed to be handling his predicament better, as if he’d been through it a few times, even if he’d been a coward when it came to jumping the gap. Or, at the least, more reasonable. She didn’t know what she’d been thinking.

    “Shut it,” was all Sandra had managed to say towards his sarcastic jab about her climbing up the stairs. Right before they hit the last floor, she was jarred to life, both by the mechanical voice, and the strangely vibrant words he’d spoken to her.

    Shrugging the collar of her jacket closer and stepping out of the elevator, Sandra brushed his arm. “I’m fucking crazy? At least I didn’t get shot and…” She sniffed, her face creasing repulsively. “Is that charred skin I smell? Did they burn you?” That possibility made her shudder. God, if they were using fire now…

    In the past, Sandra had been able to manage some semblance of control over her powers. Hardly, really, but enough not to drown herself when brushing her teeth. In any dangerous situation where an element was clearly present though, her body seemed to do whatever the hell it felt it needed to do, awful consequences not considered. Should a bad situation arise with security, the last thing she needed was to make it worse.

    Except that a bad situation already has arisen…

    And the only person that she had any sort of mutuality here with was…

    Sandra turned her head and bit her lip sheepishly. Truly, she hadn’t been the best person… another part of her, a fiery, rash part, reconciled that he’d broken down her door, brought the security barreling towards her, and had been nothing but a sarcastic, wretched douchebag that- I haven’t been the best either.

    Sighing, and wishing she could stop to make things up, but being smarter than the average trash bag, Sandra poked his shoulder. It was a weird gesture, she realized, but human contact wasn’t her normal jam. “Look, I’m sorry. Start over? I’m Sandra and… I have no where to go.” Her brows knit together when she said this, realizing that she had no escape plan, no backup. She could run to granmama’s house, but that was miles and miles and miles away from Osten, and there was no way she’d make it on foot. Robbie, don’t make fun of me…
     
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  10. Thomas threw his hands into his pockets as she began to suspect he had been burnt. ''I didn't fucking call you crazy.'' He stated, confusion readily apparent on his face.

    ''Nice to meet you again, I'm Tom, Thomas... I have somewhere to stay, I guess you can tag along for now, but-'' He poked her on the shoulder, ''No touchy-feely, alright?'' Yes, what a great re-introduction. Better than, hi there, I was in-fact burnt, not by them though, you see, I set my own hand on fire. Chuckling to himself they hurried from the scene.

    It made sense that she travelled with him for now, until things died down at least, especially if they were caught in the night, body-bagged and interrogated, she would be the perfect bargaining chip, he could pin this entire nightmare on her. Worst case scenario.. He told himself, or maybe it was the best. The worst cast would be him forcing his way out.

    The sun shone brightly in the midday sky, but the towering office and apartment buildings of the slums allowed the couple some sense of security as they cut through the shadows they cast on the streets below, sliding down back-alleys and the many abandoned buildings that littered the lower tier of Osten.

    ''Ah, home.'' He smiled as they stood before an otherwise unnoticeable door, covered in shadow. Twisting the rusty, copper handle it only took three shoulder barges before it finally creaked open, beckoning his companion inside after he entered.

    His house, if you could call it that, was small and uninteresting, messy and dirty. Even what he had seen of her own place was in better shape than this, minus the black-charred walls of course.

    ''I need to clean myself up, but uh, make yourself at home?'' sliding into the bathroom he was glad to be alone for a moment, running his hands under cold-water the burn marks grew fainter until they disappeared altogether. Beautiful, he concluded, inspecting them in the grimy mirror.

    The luke-warm water from the shower washed the blood and dirt away leaving behind a confused but at-least partly refreshed man. Wrapping a towel around his torso he cursed, ''shit...'', at the realization all his clothes lay in his bedroom. Pulling open the bathroom door he couldn't see his new housemate, sidling against the wall as quietly as a man of his build could he crept into his bedroom, throwing on whatever clothes he had left on the floor.

    Another curse escaped his lips, ''Shit, shit..'' Remembering the books he had left on the table in-front of his sofa. Nonchalantly he walked into the front room, spying Sandra across the far side and the hard-backs on the table where he had left them.

    Limits of the human consciousness
    The evolution of man: a study
    Apex Predators Throughout History


    Good, they were all there. Casually stepping over to the table he slide them onto the floor, kicking them under the sofa with his heel as he sat, hoping to god she hadn't seen them.
     
    #10 AFeatheredHat, Jun 8, 2015
    Last edited by a moderator: Jun 8, 2015
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  11. A poke back to the shoulder was like some sort of reassurance that they were on better ground than they had been before, and Sandra was partially satisfied. Partially, because she was going to follow a stranger - who was possibly being chased by security - to god-only-knows-where and put trust in him enough to hang there until she found another way out. At the very least, adapting was Sandra’s best ability, and she’d learn to deal with the new situation until she found a new one. And Robbie said getting and leaving all those jobs were for nothing. “Gladly,” she teased back when he stated the rule of ‘no-touchy-feely’. The last time she’d tried to get too hot and heavy with a boyfriend some many years ago, she ended up with too much hot. And a broken heart.

    In silence, and with breath nearly held, Sandra followed behind him beneath the shadows of the slums. She pulled her jacket close, her breath a heated curl as her body cooled itself to combat the rising fear. Better to focus on shivering her ass off than what they had just run from. By the time they reached his home, she held in her laughter and responded with a quick nod.

    Leaving Thomas to his devices, Sandra began a gentle, probing investigation of where she was staying. She wasn’t nosy, by any means, but she wanted some sort of early alarm if he was, indeed, a serial killer and she was possibly his next victim. She’d be prepared a little bit, at least, and wasn’t too entirely helpless. She didn’t have a few years of martial arts training. From when she was a teenager.

    But that wasn’t the point.

    If it came down to it, Sandra could explode on him like the ticking-time-bomb she was and skip away. This wasn’t her place, after all, and he seemed like he roomed alone. If the state of ‘home’ had anything to do with it.

    That was when she spotted the books on the table. Her finger on the cover, she gently pushed them aside and mouthed the titles. Fucking, really? Hearing the pour of the shower, she laughed outloud and figured the sound would be drowned with the water. What kind of psy- The water stopped. Shuffling the books together, she continued her way around rooms.

    A door whispered behind her, and Sandra scarcely caught a figure attempting some manner of stealth. In a towel. Fighting the urge to jump around and terrify the towel right off his sarcastic ass, she entered a new room that appeared some sort of half kitchen. He did tell her to make herself at home, so she pillaged a glass, filled it with water, and took a sip. The shockingly mundane thing put her at some ease. Returning, she turned. Thomas was there, but the books were gone. She hid her grin.

    “If you were to kill me now, how would you do it?” Sandra jabbed, attempting - in her awkward way - to break the ice. Any sort of human contact was not her jam. Working at a cafe, she’d always gotten by with her pretty smile and polite manner. Taking a sip of her water, she glanced at a window. “What were they chasing you for? And why did you always hang at the cafe? Were you looking for someone?” She asked more seriously. “Honestly. Don’t pull shit with me, please.” Not that it matters. He’ll fucking lie. Of course he will.
     
    • Love Love x 1
  12. Thomas shifted in the seat a little, lifting his hands up to face-level. ''That's easy,'' A smile on his face ''I'd strangle you with my own two hands.'' Or I could drown you with that glass of water you have, or burn you to a crisp. Dropping his hands into his lap an expression resembling sincerity covered his face, for the first time in a while. ''I'm not sure, I think I was looking for someone, or, something at least.'' Stopping, he realized how much of a head case he sounded.

    They shared the room in silence for a moment. ''Look at this place, I stole something okay, so they were looking for me, maybe you were the one who tipped them off I was in there? Maybe this information is reserved for a level of intimacy we don't share'' A serious answer wasn't something he was used to providing, but he had given her a half, and that was something. It was to him anyway.

    ''I don't lie all of the time, fuck you.'' he replied ''Who's Robbie, a boyfriend?'' A sharp laugh escaping him, he doubted it. If she had a boyfriend she wouldn't be here in the first place. A weird woman, a strange man, living in a decadent building together. Great, just what I always wanted.

    Thomas nodded towards his bedroom. ''You can sleep in my bed, I'll stay out here.'' He figured he owed her that much, he probably wouldn't have made it today if not for her, though he didn't plan on letting her know that. Speaking of sleep he let his head fall into the back of the sofa, he was a wreck.

    The only important question left, was why she was running too, maybe she was some sort of criminal, flicking his head up at the thought his eyes inspected her.

    Maybe she's killed someone?
    Nah, doesn't look the type.
    Wait, her apartment was a complete mess, burnt the body maybe?
    Nah....
    Prostitute?....
    Nah, too good looking for that, besides, she worked in the cafe. There's fucking nothing.


    Scowling in defeat he took his eyes from her, ready to spring and take the life from her body if she tried any funny business. ''I'm staying here'' He declared as their eyes met, curling into a ball on the sofa. ''I feel fucking dead. Yes. I know it's only midday''
     
    • Love Love x 1
  13. At the wiggling of his hands, Sandra had smirked and chuckled. “No touchy-feely, remember?” She reminded him. As to why he was at the cafe. She tried to hide wariness in her expression. A lot of people came to the cafe in search of someone. She couldn’t count on all her fingers and toes the guys, and girls, that had tried picking her up. Sometimes from the rich areas, too, like it’d be easier to nab a poor server from the slums for a night than their own kind. A few of them had been cute, and she’d considered a one night stand, but… goosebumps on her arms formed, reminding her that something lurked within that took any chance it could to get out, even just a moment of passion.

    “Yeah, like I, with my tea and soaps on, totally tipped them off,” was what Sandra was going to say, but then Thomas managed to shock her.

    Even more than when he’d burst through her door.

    Even more than finding security powering their way up her apartment building.

    Sandra knew she hadn’t said anything outloud about him lying. Sure, sometimes she wasn’t exactly the best at monitoring what came out of her mouth, but when he mentioned Robbie, she was damn sure.

    All smart ass comments melted away and Sandra’s lips were agape. What the fuck? Am I going crazy? That thought was, of course, before the next things he said. Thought. What?

    Burnt the body… prostitute… too good looking…

    A red flush crawled up Sandra’s neck and stained her cheeks. She could hear him saying it. It was in his voice, but his lips weren’t moving. He was only staring at her, with an expression that denoted thinking. Her fingers tightened around her glass. “What… what the fuck did you say?” Crazy voices in her head aside, was he stalking her? How did he know about Robbie? She hadn’t said anything had she? Was that why he picked her room to bust through? Did he mean to do this, to chase her out? Normally, she wasn’t so quick to startle, but the fever that sizzled beneath her skin wasn’t helping. Where her flesh had been pricked with goosepimples, it was now heated and barely sweating.

    “How do you know about Robbie? And did you call me a prostitute? You fucking asshole!” Sandra grit her teeth, freezing condensation building around her fingertips on the glass. Without her noticing, a thin layer of ice formed on top. Should have noticed, as something twisted in her chest.
     
    • Love Love x 1
  14. Words flowed through one ear and out of the other as Thomas curled into a tight ball on the sofa. ''Shut up!'' He murmured, ''Shut the fuck up already!'' A sudden air of uneasiness flooded the room, reluctantly pulling his eyes open he sat up. It was clear he had struck some deep emotional chord within Sandra, and it had really riled her up.

    ''Shut up you crazy bitch,'' He repeated, catching up with what she had said, ''Robbie? I dunno, you keep mentioning him, how else would I know the name? I'm not fucking psychic am I?'' Looking up at the red-faced woman he knew there was no rest waiting for him.

    Standing cautiously he lifted his hands into the air. ''Look, I meant no disrespect, whatever the case you need to calm down.'' His eyes drifted to the thin layer of ice around the top of the glass she held. What?

    ''And did you call me a prostitute?''

    Well... yes.
    Well.. no
    .

    There really was no way to explain himself out of this one, chalking it up to a slip of the tongue he fingered the lighter in his pocket which offered him a sense of security. Sandra seemed very on-edge suddenly, and ready to jump from it at any second.

    Thomas caught Sandra's stare and the temperature of the room began to rise, slowly at first until it became almost unbearable, beads of sweat visible on his forehead Thomas tried to quell the heat a little, as that familiar yet all too foreign feeling propelled through his chest, fighting for control.
     
    • Love Love x 1
  15. How does he know about Robbie? The terror of the scenes flashed through her mind. A swirl of flame, taking on images and forms that looked shockingly familiar, but no less frightening. A pool imploding, the waters bursting from the seams of the liner and boiling into the air as heated pillars. Men with visors and guns, searching a house that fell apart at the seams. Running through the woods, holding on to a bigger hand than hers. Brother. Many years ago, Sandra had forced her family into hiding, had forced herself to part with them, for their safety. She would never say their names. Would never let go of that. Let anyone who met her think all her family was dead. So why did this man know about Robbie? Did he know about her grandmother too? Were they in danger?

    The possibilities nearly choked her, but by the time she’d realized that Thomas was right - she needed to calm right the fuck down - it was too late. From the force of the power rocking through her, unbidden and unwanted, the water in her glass turned to thick ice, and the sudden change shattered the glass. With a gasp, she let go, barely noticing how strands of her hair were drifting from her face by a gale that just decided to drop in.

    Well, fuck.

    Blood dripping from a sliced finger, she placed it over her mouth, stifling a million things she wanted to scream. Probably not at him. Probably more towards herself, but not that it mattered.

    Sandra would be running again, but this time, she really had no where to go.

    The room had launched in temperature, and Sandra wasn’t surprised if it was her. She could feel the fever, could feel the coils of something awakening within. This wasn’t supposed to happen so soon. Never happens so soon. Please, not again…

    Damage had already been done regardless, if one could tell by the wind that whipped itself into a frenzy in that living room, her hair desperate to climb into her eyes. Sandra did the only thing she’d really been doing that day, and ran. Couldn’t run outside. Men with guns out there. Any sane man would probably go find them, so Sandra sought her safety in the bathroom. She’d wait until she heard the door close, until he was gone, and then she’d take off. Wherever that was.

    Slamming the door to the bathroom closed behind her, and locking it for good measure, she curled against the floor. It was freezing, despite the ridiculous heat, and it felt good on her belly - cooling the beast within. Here, she may be able to catch it, may be able to throttle it before it ascended. Still. Calm. Relax. Please? Please don’t do this again. A groan of pain tumbled from her lips in response, though she wasn’t sure if it was really her or the angry dragon in her chest.
     
    • Love Love x 1
  16. A glass shattered, a ring of gold flowed around the pupil of Thomas' dark eyes as a gale of wind whipped around Sandra, pushing it's way through the room as it grew stronger. Planting his feet against the floor and lifting his arms across his eyes to protect them, the wind parted as it danced past him, ripping his shirt with an unvoiced anger that it shared with the everything else around them.


    A door slammed and he looked up in response, Sandra had gone, outside he thought at first, clenching his hand into a fist the gale dropped and the room returned to silence, though the heat remained, growing steadily. The door that led to the alley was now blocked by his sofa, so he ruled that option out.


    An audible sigh escaped him as he sat with his back against the door. The gold in his eye's had pushed the blue back to the outer edges now. He could feel her on the other side of the door, not physically or even emotionally but there lay something between them, a silver line that allowed Thomas to feel her despair.


    He opened his mouth to speak, offer some kind of reassurance, that he knew how she felt as he had felt the same way a long time ago, or maybe offer advise? At least let her know you have the same monster lurking within you a voice told him.


    Thomas rapped on the door, not asking her to open it, but letting her know she wasn't alone and hadn't been abandoned. A faint smile crossing his face at the realization he wasn't alone either, and there may be others like them.


    ''You know,'' He said, ''I thought I was the only one...'' A thousand thoughts raced around his head.
    ''I guess now would be a good time to tell the truth, I'm sure you were the reason I was at that crappy Cafe everyday.''

    Looking around his trashed living room he added ''I guess you really are making yourself at home huh.''
     
    • Love Love x 1
  17. There was a strange mottle of emotions that forced their way through Sandra’s chest and she didn’t know what to do with them all. At one point, she’d turned the shower on, but she hadn’t meant to. Water was just pouring out of the head, but the steady stream was a calming sound for her mind to focus on.

    Other than his words, of course. Something was incredibly reassuring about his words, even if they were abso-fucking-lutely crazy. Not to mention that he could be lying.

    But then why did he stay? A sane, not lying person would probably have done one of two things. They would have run out the door, seeking down the first guy with a big gun they could find and leading them back to blow holes in her or they would have busted the door down and tried to strangle her until the wind stopped. Thomas hadn’t done either of those things. Instead, he’d spoken through the door and worked to calm her down. Shockingly, it worked. Even the rampant serpent within her quieted, the flames only licking at the back of her throat.

    Pulling herself from the chill of the floor, Sandra scooched over to the door. She felt childish and small, but she had never come across this situation. At the very least, not with a stranger. She’d always been good about keeping her distance, staying away, don’t let anyone see. If anyone got too close, she up and vanished - to some other place with some other job.

    Sandra wasn’t expecting to feel some sort of connection to Thomas at all. Especially not with his smart ass mouth.

    There was a soft thump as she leaned her forehead against the door, if only for a moment. She could still feel the fever, her skin slick with perspiration. The mirrors of the bathroom had steamed over. Only the floor was near frozen. A wind still tossed her hair, but most of it fell haphazardly down her back.

    Taking a deep breath in, and a big chance with it, Sandra unlocked the door and opened it, just a smidge. She peaked out at him, at the wind tossed livingroom behind him and glanced up. “Not yet,” she said, trying not to let her voice come out so small. “The ceiling isn’t scorched yet.”

    A laugh couldn’t help but tumble out her lips. Sandra was doing better than she thought she would after a stranger finally found her secret. Gently pressing the door open wider, her brows furrowed. “Are you really like me? Prove it,” she said. “And… how do you actually know about Robbie? Are you… oh God, I’m crazy.” She scrubbed her face with her hand. Crazy? She fucking exploded into fire and storms from time to time. Very little was crazy at this exact moment. “Are you psychic too?” The last question was said with exasperation, as though she was really sick of how much wider her world was becoming.
     
    • Love Love x 1