It took some time but eventually Lori and Amelia completed their task and the house was fortified. After all the work was done, the group moved themselves out into the living space of the house and everyone began to spread out and try their best to relax. Amelia, not really knowing what she should do, stuck close to Declyn and helped him with a project he wanted to work on. They spent a few hours huddled together as he explained to her what he was making and she did her best to be as helpful as she could. It almost made it feel like old times for a while, and she and Declyn had fun and made hushed jokes and giggles as they worked. After all was said and done, they both had brand new holsters for their guns, and Amelia strapped hers around her waist as soon as they were finished. It was much easier to have the gun on her side than to have to hold it constantly, she decided with a smile and a nod.
Afterwards, the next few hours kind of dragged on.
Amelia busied herself as best she could, but found that it was difficult to calm her energy. She felt wide awake, as if she’d slept for days. She couldn’t even sit still for a few minutes, constantly shifting her position, or standing and walking to a new place to sit. Rinse and repeat. Now she was leaning on the back of a chair watching Lori toss balls of paper into a garbage. At least it was somewhat entertaining.
Amelia looked around, and everyone else looked really exhausted.
“I’m okay with staying up.” She raised her hand like she was in class to call attention to herself.
“Don’t worry! I’ll be the best watcher!”
the world is spinning but only in grey
open!
Ivy supposed she ought to put up some sort of token resistance. At the very least she ought to side-eye Lori for being so transparently fake in her attempts to ingratiate herself to the group.
"Works for me," she said bluntly, pulling herself off the couch and dropping the pamphlet behind her. She couldn't really complain about how things had shaken out. She would have been suspect of Lori on her own, obviously, but Amelia reeked of innocence and goodness and didn't seem particularly inclined to let Lori strangle Ivy in her sleep. She glanced at Ace, and then at Declyn. And then at Declyn's gun holstered on his hip, though that was less of a conscious choice and more of a nervous instinct. He wasn't going to sleep with that on, was he?
"Ace can have the couch. Declyn and I will take the bed. Yes?"
Ivy didn't actually wait for any acknowledgment before turning on her heels and heading for the bedroom, because her solution to who should sleep where was obvious and logical and brooked no argument. There were several reasons she shouldn't share a bed with Ace, not the least of which was that he would hog most of it, and she deserved the bed because she was injured and also because she said so first. Flawless reasoning.
She sat on the edge of the bed and considered her sleeping situation. Her bag of clothes did not, unfortunately, contain any pajamas. She kicked off her shoes and, after a moment of consideration, peeled off her leggings, which she'd left on all day despite the heat because frankly she felt naked enough without her shirt on; they stuck awkwardly to her skin, vaguely damp on the inside from sweat. Gross. She retrieved her shirt from the bed and after a moment of trepidation pulled it back on and it hurt, yes, but not as badly as she was expecting. She winced but didn't make a sound. A relative improvement.
Still overdressed for sleeping, but the heat level was at least tolerable. She took a couple more painkillers, unsure as to how many hours it had been since her last dose and not wanting to be awoken by the pain. Declyn, evidently, was perfectly happy to go to sleep fully clothed, though she could barely see him as the last hints of day were rapidly disappearing on the horizon. He'd taken the gun off, it seemed. The idea of waiting for him to fall asleep and taking it flitted through her mind and was quickly discarded. They were locked in this house. Hardly a point in doing such a thing if she couldn't flee afterward.
"Well..."
Her voice trailed off. Her instinct was to say "good night" but the sentiment seemed ridiculous in this circumstance. "Sleep well," equally so.
"... Try to get some sleep."
That seemed about right. She crawled into bed, careful about her positioning, keeping her body straight enough to not put pressure on her ribs. A wave of exhaustion came over her, and despite her trepidation, and despite the dull ache in her side and her head, she fell asleep with surprising speed.
"Works for me," she said bluntly, pulling herself off the couch and dropping the pamphlet behind her. She couldn't really complain about how things had shaken out. She would have been suspect of Lori on her own, obviously, but Amelia reeked of innocence and goodness and didn't seem particularly inclined to let Lori strangle Ivy in her sleep. She glanced at Ace, and then at Declyn. And then at Declyn's gun holstered on his hip, though that was less of a conscious choice and more of a nervous instinct. He wasn't going to sleep with that on, was he?
"Ace can have the couch. Declyn and I will take the bed. Yes?"
Ivy didn't actually wait for any acknowledgment before turning on her heels and heading for the bedroom, because her solution to who should sleep where was obvious and logical and brooked no argument. There were several reasons she shouldn't share a bed with Ace, not the least of which was that he would hog most of it, and she deserved the bed because she was injured and also because she said so first. Flawless reasoning.
She sat on the edge of the bed and considered her sleeping situation. Her bag of clothes did not, unfortunately, contain any pajamas. She kicked off her shoes and, after a moment of consideration, peeled off her leggings, which she'd left on all day despite the heat because frankly she felt naked enough without her shirt on; they stuck awkwardly to her skin, vaguely damp on the inside from sweat. Gross. She retrieved her shirt from the bed and after a moment of trepidation pulled it back on and it hurt, yes, but not as badly as she was expecting. She winced but didn't make a sound. A relative improvement.
Still overdressed for sleeping, but the heat level was at least tolerable. She took a couple more painkillers, unsure as to how many hours it had been since her last dose and not wanting to be awoken by the pain. Declyn, evidently, was perfectly happy to go to sleep fully clothed, though she could barely see him as the last hints of day were rapidly disappearing on the horizon. He'd taken the gun off, it seemed. The idea of waiting for him to fall asleep and taking it flitted through her mind and was quickly discarded. They were locked in this house. Hardly a point in doing such a thing if she couldn't flee afterward.
"Well..."
Her voice trailed off. Her instinct was to say "good night" but the sentiment seemed ridiculous in this circumstance. "Sleep well," equally so.
"... Try to get some sleep."
That seemed about right. She crawled into bed, careful about her positioning, keeping her body straight enough to not put pressure on her ribs. A wave of exhaustion came over her, and despite her trepidation, and despite the dull ache in her side and her head, she fell asleep with surprising speed.
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
-
Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
Lori and Amelia watched the last light fade from the sky as the others got settled in for sleep. Amelia was happy to do most of the talking, which Lori found to be inane a lot of the time, but it didn't particularly bother her. It was better than sitting together in silence, though she did like the quiet when she was alone. Everyone was fast asleep as the girls hung out in the living room which was dark, save for the moonlight that came through the windows.
Lori went to take a drink of water, or so she said. While rustling around in her bag, she heard the faint knocking together of the LSD in an opaque bottle. It would have sounded more or less like general movement of items if one did not know specifically what to listen for it. As Amelia proposed a game of I Spy, Lori popped the bottle open and tipped a few of the pills in her hand, shoving them into the pants of her track suit before returning with her water.
"I spy with my little eye something tall and brown," said Amelia.
Lori looked around, unsure of the colors of anything in the dim light.
"It's not Ace is it?"
"No."
"I guess he's not really THAT tall."
Several guesses later revealed the answer to be the bookshelf. Another round, the answer was a book on the book shelf. Another round, the answer was a small vase on the bookshelf. Another round, the answer was a dust bunny on the bookshelf. Another round --
Lori sighed angrily and took a few deep breaths.
"You know what? I'm gonna go check on how everyone's doing in the bedroom."
Lori walked as quietly as she could to the next room, gingerly opening the decrepit door. Inside, Ivy and Declyn were sleeping soundly. Lori stepped inside, closing the door most of the way, but allowing for a little light to come through, faintly illuminating a bag on the floor. Declyn and Amelia had made those holsters so that their guns would always be near. It's like they didn't trust her. She needed something to protect herself since she was obviously on the outside of the two pairs in this group, and they had another gun anyway. Lori needed everyone to be out of sorts a little, a little chaos, just so she could get what she needed.
Lori picked up the Gatorade that Ivy had been drinking from the table near the bed. Bitch loved her Gatorade.
SPREAD THAT "V," DOT THAT "I," CURL THAT "C-T-O-R-Y!"
Lori remembered briefly the girls all doing their coordinated dance moves, hips shaking to the left at the same time, finger waving in unison, pom poms all rustling and shimmering together.
DON'T STOP!
They'd have two girls on the outside do flips in front of the choreography and the crowd would eat it up. She remembered forgetting whatever disdain she had for her fellow cheerleaders and people at large when the girls were 8-count stepping in sync, the rhythm of the music driving them forward and building the energy to a fever pitch.
LOOK UP!
Perhaps she was actually happy then. Had she been happy then? Happy with the girls and with Ivy?
GO FAST!
Step left, step right, turn, shake shake shake, bend to the left.
That was just too pathetic to be true.
In the second between the tablets leaving her fingers and hitting the Gatorade, Lori wondered if this was the right thing to do. She dropped two tables and listened to them dissolve softly. Two because fuck her. Both forms on the bed moved gently and made slight breathing sounds. Maybe this would even help with her pain? Right?
She put the bottle back on the night stand and then went to Declyn's bag, pulling out the first water bottle she found and slipping a tablet into the bottle before replacing, making sure it was the first one at the top of the contents of the bag.
Lori walked back to the living room, confirming everything was unchanged to Amelia with a thumbs up. They collected all the paper balls she had made earlier of the stupid cult pamphlet and began trying to score baskets with them as Lori had done alone a few hours prior. Before long, Amelia let Lori know she had to go outside to pee and Lori nodded and watched dispassionately as she watched Amelia struggle to climb out of the window they'd left unlocked. Eventually she saw her disappear and heard a soft thud.
Lori went to Ace's bag and repeated her process, slipping a pill into a water bottle and then arranging it so the water bottle was near the top when he opened the bag.
Last, she went to Amelia's bag. Lori held her breath for a moment, waiting to hear if she'd come climbing back through the window at that moment. There was nothing. Lori unzipped the bag. She took a bottle of water and looked at it.
Amelia had never talked down to her, and she was a little annoying, but she treated her with respect. She seemed to like talking to her even and had shown concern. Lori bit her lip hard and clenched her fist around the last tablet.
I'm sure I can convince her everyone's just freaking out. Maybe she'll just come with me.
She put the bottle back and closed the bag, lips pursed.
Lori went to take a drink of water, or so she said. While rustling around in her bag, she heard the faint knocking together of the LSD in an opaque bottle. It would have sounded more or less like general movement of items if one did not know specifically what to listen for it. As Amelia proposed a game of I Spy, Lori popped the bottle open and tipped a few of the pills in her hand, shoving them into the pants of her track suit before returning with her water.
"I spy with my little eye something tall and brown," said Amelia.
Lori looked around, unsure of the colors of anything in the dim light.
"It's not Ace is it?"
"No."
"I guess he's not really THAT tall."
Several guesses later revealed the answer to be the bookshelf. Another round, the answer was a book on the book shelf. Another round, the answer was a small vase on the bookshelf. Another round, the answer was a dust bunny on the bookshelf. Another round --
Lori sighed angrily and took a few deep breaths.
"You know what? I'm gonna go check on how everyone's doing in the bedroom."
Lori walked as quietly as she could to the next room, gingerly opening the decrepit door. Inside, Ivy and Declyn were sleeping soundly. Lori stepped inside, closing the door most of the way, but allowing for a little light to come through, faintly illuminating a bag on the floor. Declyn and Amelia had made those holsters so that their guns would always be near. It's like they didn't trust her. She needed something to protect herself since she was obviously on the outside of the two pairs in this group, and they had another gun anyway. Lori needed everyone to be out of sorts a little, a little chaos, just so she could get what she needed.
Lori picked up the Gatorade that Ivy had been drinking from the table near the bed. Bitch loved her Gatorade.
SPREAD THAT "V," DOT THAT "I," CURL THAT "C-T-O-R-Y!"
Lori remembered briefly the girls all doing their coordinated dance moves, hips shaking to the left at the same time, finger waving in unison, pom poms all rustling and shimmering together.
DON'T STOP!
They'd have two girls on the outside do flips in front of the choreography and the crowd would eat it up. She remembered forgetting whatever disdain she had for her fellow cheerleaders and people at large when the girls were 8-count stepping in sync, the rhythm of the music driving them forward and building the energy to a fever pitch.
LOOK UP!
Perhaps she was actually happy then. Had she been happy then? Happy with the girls and with Ivy?
GO FAST!
Step left, step right, turn, shake shake shake, bend to the left.
That was just too pathetic to be true.
In the second between the tablets leaving her fingers and hitting the Gatorade, Lori wondered if this was the right thing to do. She dropped two tables and listened to them dissolve softly. Two because fuck her. Both forms on the bed moved gently and made slight breathing sounds. Maybe this would even help with her pain? Right?
She put the bottle back on the night stand and then went to Declyn's bag, pulling out the first water bottle she found and slipping a tablet into the bottle before replacing, making sure it was the first one at the top of the contents of the bag.
Lori walked back to the living room, confirming everything was unchanged to Amelia with a thumbs up. They collected all the paper balls she had made earlier of the stupid cult pamphlet and began trying to score baskets with them as Lori had done alone a few hours prior. Before long, Amelia let Lori know she had to go outside to pee and Lori nodded and watched dispassionately as she watched Amelia struggle to climb out of the window they'd left unlocked. Eventually she saw her disappear and heard a soft thud.
Lori went to Ace's bag and repeated her process, slipping a pill into a water bottle and then arranging it so the water bottle was near the top when he opened the bag.
Last, she went to Amelia's bag. Lori held her breath for a moment, waiting to hear if she'd come climbing back through the window at that moment. There was nothing. Lori unzipped the bag. She took a bottle of water and looked at it.
Amelia had never talked down to her, and she was a little annoying, but she treated her with respect. She seemed to like talking to her even and had shown concern. Lori bit her lip hard and clenched her fist around the last tablet.
I'm sure I can convince her everyone's just freaking out. Maybe she'll just come with me.
She put the bottle back and closed the bag, lips pursed.
As everyone else went to sleep, Amelia and Lori stayed together in the living room, chatting the night away as they did their best to make the time go by during their watch. Amelia found herself to be dominating the conversation, but she didn’t mind, as Lori seemed like she had other things on her mind. In an effort to cheer the other girl up, Amelia suggested they play a game to pass the time. I Spy was the game the two girls played for a while, with Amelia doing the spying and Lori doing the guessing. Even though she’d suggested it, Amelia found that she wasn’t very good at the game, and all her spies focused on the big bookcase in the room with them.
But at least she was trying, right?
After a few rounds, Lori decided to go check on the others, and Amelia nodded and watched the other girl walk away. She hadn’t really known Lori back in school, but Amelia found she liked the other girls company. She seemed like a really nice person, after all she hadn’t once gotten tired of Amelia’s ramblings like some others tended to. That means she was someone who was very nice. Amelia knew she could be a bit difficult for others to understand sometimes. Dolly told her so pretty often, to keep her aware. So it was nice to be with someone who seemed not to mind her oddities.
Before she knew it Lori had returned, and Amelia smiled happily at the other girl. Lori gave her a thumbs up, and Amelia grinned even harder. The two played the game Lori was playing earlier for a while, tossing balls of paper into the wastebasket a few feet away and trying to get them in. Amelia missed a lot, but it was really fun, and she found herself laughing and being silly with Lori for a while. It almost made her forget the situation they were all in. After a bit, Amelia felt the familiar urging of her bladder, and she stood up quickly, dancing around a bit as she tried to figure out where she was supposed to pee. There were no bathrooms in the house, she and Lori had confirmed that when they inspected earlier. She spotted the open window in the living room and figured she could just sneak outside for some quick release.
“I gotta pee. I’ll be right back!” She urgently told Lori as she hustled over to the window and climbed out of it with some difficulty. She was trying to be careful, but she ended up falling out the window and landing on her back with a soft thud.
She stood and dusted herself off, and made her way to the corner of the house to do her business, shucking her leggings down and holding up her shirt and sweater so as not to get any pee on them. A few seconds later she felt the relief of her bladder emptying and sighed in contentment. She cleaned herself up as best she could with no toilet paper, and got herself back together before going back to the window and climbing back inside with some effort. She fell again on entering, and looked over to where she’d left Lori and smiled at her awkwardly.
“I’m too small to get in and out fast.” She chuckled. It was always easy to laugh at herself. She stood up and walked over to Lori.
“Do you think it’s time to switch yet? I’m getting sleepy.” She grumbled and rubbed at her eyes.
“I’m gonna wake up Ace and Ivy and see if they’re ready to switch.”
She smiled at Lori and turned on her heel to enter the bedroom to get Ivy. She saw the sleeping forms of Ivy and Declyn and smiled. They looked so cute and peaceful sleeping. She felt bad having to wake anybody up. She walked closer, but found that she had an itch in the throat all of a sudden. Her bag was outside in the other room, but she figured Declyn wouldn’t mind if she borrowed some of his water, right? That what friends did, after all! She crouched down and opened his bag, grabbing the bottle right at the top, unscrewing the cap and chugging down about half the bottle. She was more thirsty than she thought. She’d just have to give him some of hers in exchange is all. She stood up, feeling better, and shook the pink haired girl lightly.
“Ms. Ivy? Wakey-wakey!” She cooed. “It’s time to switch.”
But at least she was trying, right?
After a few rounds, Lori decided to go check on the others, and Amelia nodded and watched the other girl walk away. She hadn’t really known Lori back in school, but Amelia found she liked the other girls company. She seemed like a really nice person, after all she hadn’t once gotten tired of Amelia’s ramblings like some others tended to. That means she was someone who was very nice. Amelia knew she could be a bit difficult for others to understand sometimes. Dolly told her so pretty often, to keep her aware. So it was nice to be with someone who seemed not to mind her oddities.
Before she knew it Lori had returned, and Amelia smiled happily at the other girl. Lori gave her a thumbs up, and Amelia grinned even harder. The two played the game Lori was playing earlier for a while, tossing balls of paper into the wastebasket a few feet away and trying to get them in. Amelia missed a lot, but it was really fun, and she found herself laughing and being silly with Lori for a while. It almost made her forget the situation they were all in. After a bit, Amelia felt the familiar urging of her bladder, and she stood up quickly, dancing around a bit as she tried to figure out where she was supposed to pee. There were no bathrooms in the house, she and Lori had confirmed that when they inspected earlier. She spotted the open window in the living room and figured she could just sneak outside for some quick release.
“I gotta pee. I’ll be right back!” She urgently told Lori as she hustled over to the window and climbed out of it with some difficulty. She was trying to be careful, but she ended up falling out the window and landing on her back with a soft thud.
She stood and dusted herself off, and made her way to the corner of the house to do her business, shucking her leggings down and holding up her shirt and sweater so as not to get any pee on them. A few seconds later she felt the relief of her bladder emptying and sighed in contentment. She cleaned herself up as best she could with no toilet paper, and got herself back together before going back to the window and climbing back inside with some effort. She fell again on entering, and looked over to where she’d left Lori and smiled at her awkwardly.
“I’m too small to get in and out fast.” She chuckled. It was always easy to laugh at herself. She stood up and walked over to Lori.
“Do you think it’s time to switch yet? I’m getting sleepy.” She grumbled and rubbed at her eyes.
“I’m gonna wake up Ace and Ivy and see if they’re ready to switch.”
She smiled at Lori and turned on her heel to enter the bedroom to get Ivy. She saw the sleeping forms of Ivy and Declyn and smiled. They looked so cute and peaceful sleeping. She felt bad having to wake anybody up. She walked closer, but found that she had an itch in the throat all of a sudden. Her bag was outside in the other room, but she figured Declyn wouldn’t mind if she borrowed some of his water, right? That what friends did, after all! She crouched down and opened his bag, grabbing the bottle right at the top, unscrewing the cap and chugging down about half the bottle. She was more thirsty than she thought. She’d just have to give him some of hers in exchange is all. She stood up, feeling better, and shook the pink haired girl lightly.
“Ms. Ivy? Wakey-wakey!” She cooed. “It’s time to switch.”
Ivy dreamt of chasing a cat through an endless black forest. When her eyes fluttered open, the memory of it escaped her immediately.
"Mm."
She looked up at that far-too-cheerful expression that Amelia had worn for much of the day and apparently planned to continue wearing despite all reason. There was only a half-second of surprise that passed between her meeting Amelia's eyes and recalling her circumstances; for that, at least, she was grateful. Her first breakdown had been emotionally compromising enough for a lifetime, frankly. She yawned and stretched like a comfortable cat without any particular regard for dignity, which she immediately realized was a mistake.
Her chest hurt. Naturally. She wondered if she'd turned or shifted in her sleep in such a way to put pressure on it; it was bad enough that it quickly stole the breath her yawn had forced into her lungs, making her gasp, her fingers curled in the blankets as she took a few short breaths to recenter herself. Painkillers only lasted, what, four hours? It might have been that long already. No way to tell. She nodded curtly at Amelia and the water and the pills still sitting at the top of her daypack, taking two more. She steadied her breathing. It was still worse, earlier. If she could handle that, she could handle this. The tears pricking at the corner of her eyes were annoying and that was all.
She retrieved a tin of crackers from her bag along with her flashlight. In the light of the flashlight she performed a quick operation, unscrewing the perfume bottle she'd pilfered earlier and refilling it with the contents of her jug of bleach. The temptation to ask Amelia for her gun, for the sake of having a weapon handy while keeping watch, was there, but Lori would be annoying about it and honestly she didn't have the energy to tolerate her right now. After a moment of trepidation, she took the bottle of Gatorade from the bedside table as well. She'd been rationing the thing, one of her last remaining tastes of civilization, and had only taken a few scant sips throughout the day. But her chest hurt and her eye starting throbbing when she remembered that was supposed to hurt too and her head was foggy and fuck it. Perhaps she would live to be irritated with herself for her own lack of forethought, perhaps she wouldn't. She would be more regretful if she had a full bottle left she never got to drink.
For a second time she considered saying goodnight and this time she said the words aloud. Amelia, at least, was ditzy enough to believe she meant it.
It was Ace, then, who she'd be taking her shift with, since Declyn had been left fast asleep, and she saw him in the doorway of the living room, drowsy as she was with his own flashlight in hand, along with an orange and one of those smoke bombs he was forced to qualify as a weapon. She smiled at him for unaccountable reasons and lead the two of them to the dining room, a reasonable place to keep watch, she thought. Well, it wasn't particularly close to either of the entrances to the house, but it had chairs. Lord knew she wasn't planning on sitting on the fucking floor for hours.
Ivy settled into a chair with a maroon seat cushion; the chairs in here were all similarly upholstered though with different colors and patterns, as though whoever had been in charge had been picking fabrics at random. She placed the perfume bottle on the chair in front of her and her flashlight next to it, pointed at a wall away from both of them so as to illuminate the room without blinding either of them. She sat up straight for the sake of her ribs and glanced at Ace. It felt... strange, seeing him here, him more so than the others. Declyn was always quiet, Lori was always a cunt, she assumed Amelia was always an airhead, but Ace had never looked so hollow. She shouldn't care, and maybe she didn't. Maybe it was just the strongest reminder outside of the pain as to where and why they were.
She frowned, took a sip of her Gatorade, and impulsively held out the bottle.
"Do you want some?"
"Mm."
She looked up at that far-too-cheerful expression that Amelia had worn for much of the day and apparently planned to continue wearing despite all reason. There was only a half-second of surprise that passed between her meeting Amelia's eyes and recalling her circumstances; for that, at least, she was grateful. Her first breakdown had been emotionally compromising enough for a lifetime, frankly. She yawned and stretched like a comfortable cat without any particular regard for dignity, which she immediately realized was a mistake.
Her chest hurt. Naturally. She wondered if she'd turned or shifted in her sleep in such a way to put pressure on it; it was bad enough that it quickly stole the breath her yawn had forced into her lungs, making her gasp, her fingers curled in the blankets as she took a few short breaths to recenter herself. Painkillers only lasted, what, four hours? It might have been that long already. No way to tell. She nodded curtly at Amelia and the water and the pills still sitting at the top of her daypack, taking two more. She steadied her breathing. It was still worse, earlier. If she could handle that, she could handle this. The tears pricking at the corner of her eyes were annoying and that was all.
She retrieved a tin of crackers from her bag along with her flashlight. In the light of the flashlight she performed a quick operation, unscrewing the perfume bottle she'd pilfered earlier and refilling it with the contents of her jug of bleach. The temptation to ask Amelia for her gun, for the sake of having a weapon handy while keeping watch, was there, but Lori would be annoying about it and honestly she didn't have the energy to tolerate her right now. After a moment of trepidation, she took the bottle of Gatorade from the bedside table as well. She'd been rationing the thing, one of her last remaining tastes of civilization, and had only taken a few scant sips throughout the day. But her chest hurt and her eye starting throbbing when she remembered that was supposed to hurt too and her head was foggy and fuck it. Perhaps she would live to be irritated with herself for her own lack of forethought, perhaps she wouldn't. She would be more regretful if she had a full bottle left she never got to drink.
For a second time she considered saying goodnight and this time she said the words aloud. Amelia, at least, was ditzy enough to believe she meant it.
It was Ace, then, who she'd be taking her shift with, since Declyn had been left fast asleep, and she saw him in the doorway of the living room, drowsy as she was with his own flashlight in hand, along with an orange and one of those smoke bombs he was forced to qualify as a weapon. She smiled at him for unaccountable reasons and lead the two of them to the dining room, a reasonable place to keep watch, she thought. Well, it wasn't particularly close to either of the entrances to the house, but it had chairs. Lord knew she wasn't planning on sitting on the fucking floor for hours.
Ivy settled into a chair with a maroon seat cushion; the chairs in here were all similarly upholstered though with different colors and patterns, as though whoever had been in charge had been picking fabrics at random. She placed the perfume bottle on the chair in front of her and her flashlight next to it, pointed at a wall away from both of them so as to illuminate the room without blinding either of them. She sat up straight for the sake of her ribs and glanced at Ace. It felt... strange, seeing him here, him more so than the others. Declyn was always quiet, Lori was always a cunt, she assumed Amelia was always an airhead, but Ace had never looked so hollow. She shouldn't care, and maybe she didn't. Maybe it was just the strongest reminder outside of the pain as to where and why they were.
She frowned, took a sip of her Gatorade, and impulsively held out the bottle.
"Do you want some?"
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
Ace had dreamt that he was running from lizard monsters in a desert. He woke up very thirsty.
When Lori had roused him up from the couch to take watch he had thought about grabbing a thing of water but had settled on his half drank Pure Leaf Tea. It was gone in a gulp, he regretted it instantly. He wiped his mouth and picked up his materials and began to head towards the bedroom where he linked up with Ivy. She didn’t look much better than when he had left her.
Which meant, of course, playing nursemaid and bodyguard as well as watchdog.
He stared at her as he leaned back in the dining room chair--she was the starkest reminder, in all caps, of where they were and what was going on.He still couldn’t comprehend it. Julien, really? To Ivy? Why? What could Ivy had done to make Leblanc snap like that? Or maybe she had done nothing at all and their kidnappers had done the breaking in that room they had painted with brains, blood and terror. Ivy was proud and pretty and now she was beaten and bruised. That was his reality now, one of violence and not of kindness.
He’d sink or swim.
“Fuck yeah I do,” he said far too quickly taking the Gatorade offered to him, “Uh, I mean, thanks Ivy, my mouth is dry as fuck.”
She giggled at that, he smiled...he could be funny sometimes. It wasn’t a bad thing. Made people feel comfortable, made him not look like a threat. He had no real enemies out here, not now. He could manage.
He drank that Gatorade deep and passed it to her, she took a sip and passed it back. He said something, she said something (you know how conversation works) and soon they began keeping watch in earnest.
To Ivy’s credit, she sure could talk...
And she wasn’t as stupid as the big butt and smile would suggest.
She had already sized up the situation pretty impressively, able to discern by the state of Ace’s orange that they couldn’t have been gone more than a day. Furthermore she had managed to turn her weapon draw (some like, super scary industrial bleach) into like pepper spray by putting it in an empty perfume thingy. Ace wasn’t confident enough to read the map much less re-purpose his weapon. Queen Bee gotta queen, it was pretty impressive, coming from someone with a black eye.
She was down, but she wasn’t out.
About thirty minutes had passed into their shift when Ace began feeling antsy in his chair. The initial shock had passed, Ivy’s own preparation caused him to feel more focused. His vision became clearer, it was like the world had gone from 240p to 4k.
The hunger came like a wave, an avalanche, he didn’t resist it.
“I’m gonna get us some Vitamin C and stuff!”
He said it with so much excitement and he was excited--he loved oranges and they made him feel good. They were juicy and orange and delicious and orange and nutritious and very very very very very orange.
“I’ve always liked eatin’ oranges, cuz peelin’ them is like a puzzle you gotta solve before you eat.”
Why’d he say that? Whatever, who cared.
He began focusing on the orange which looked almost like leather in his hand. He dug in his finger nail and stared closer at the pores and bumps on it. It felt strange. It looked bright and leathery but felt like...a tennis ball? He threw the orange up and caught it, gripped it tight. It was a nice orange, big and bright and orange. He could imagine tasting it and that brought him to all the oranges he had ever tasted.
He closed his eyes.
Memories of school lunches, memories of football games--his butt on wooden benches, his body coated in sweat and that orange quarter resting in his mouth. When he smiled at Wyatt he thought it made him look like Paul Wall. Well, a black Paul Wall…
Mixin’ up my rap metaphors, that’s a bad sign!
He began peeling the orange again, humming a bit, eyes still closed...he could see the football field clear. He could see his Mom in the stands and that made him think of her--she was far away and he needed her and wanted her. He could hear her sing. He missed his music…
“I’d rather be with you, yeeeeeah,” he begain singing as a whisper, “I said I’d rather be with you.”
He felt his fingernail get in the groove as he sang and a big portion of the orange skin coming off.
“I’d rather be with you, yeeeeah,” this time it was a plea, “I said I’d rather be with you.”
He missed her music.
And then he heard it, soft and distant, so much so that he thought his mind was playing tricks on him.
He opened his eyes…
He dropped the orange on the table.
Beats’ Beats: I’d Rather Be With You - Bootsy Collins
“Do you hear that shit?”, he said unsuredly, “Am I goin’ crazy?”
He looked towards a camera and raised an eyebrow…were the terrorists, like, messing with him? That was taking things too far! Which was a big joke, all things considered...but still! He wasn’t out here tryna to get murdered to a soundtrack.
“Are you fuckin’ with me?!”
When Lori had roused him up from the couch to take watch he had thought about grabbing a thing of water but had settled on his half drank Pure Leaf Tea. It was gone in a gulp, he regretted it instantly. He wiped his mouth and picked up his materials and began to head towards the bedroom where he linked up with Ivy. She didn’t look much better than when he had left her.
Which meant, of course, playing nursemaid and bodyguard as well as watchdog.
He stared at her as he leaned back in the dining room chair--she was the starkest reminder, in all caps, of where they were and what was going on.He still couldn’t comprehend it. Julien, really? To Ivy? Why? What could Ivy had done to make Leblanc snap like that? Or maybe she had done nothing at all and their kidnappers had done the breaking in that room they had painted with brains, blood and terror. Ivy was proud and pretty and now she was beaten and bruised. That was his reality now, one of violence and not of kindness.
He’d sink or swim.
“Fuck yeah I do,” he said far too quickly taking the Gatorade offered to him, “Uh, I mean, thanks Ivy, my mouth is dry as fuck.”
She giggled at that, he smiled...he could be funny sometimes. It wasn’t a bad thing. Made people feel comfortable, made him not look like a threat. He had no real enemies out here, not now. He could manage.
He drank that Gatorade deep and passed it to her, she took a sip and passed it back. He said something, she said something (you know how conversation works) and soon they began keeping watch in earnest.
~~~
To Ivy’s credit, she sure could talk...
And she wasn’t as stupid as the big butt and smile would suggest.
She had already sized up the situation pretty impressively, able to discern by the state of Ace’s orange that they couldn’t have been gone more than a day. Furthermore she had managed to turn her weapon draw (some like, super scary industrial bleach) into like pepper spray by putting it in an empty perfume thingy. Ace wasn’t confident enough to read the map much less re-purpose his weapon. Queen Bee gotta queen, it was pretty impressive, coming from someone with a black eye.
She was down, but she wasn’t out.
About thirty minutes had passed into their shift when Ace began feeling antsy in his chair. The initial shock had passed, Ivy’s own preparation caused him to feel more focused. His vision became clearer, it was like the world had gone from 240p to 4k.
The hunger came like a wave, an avalanche, he didn’t resist it.
“I’m gonna get us some Vitamin C and stuff!”
He said it with so much excitement and he was excited--he loved oranges and they made him feel good. They were juicy and orange and delicious and orange and nutritious and very very very very very orange.
“I’ve always liked eatin’ oranges, cuz peelin’ them is like a puzzle you gotta solve before you eat.”
Why’d he say that? Whatever, who cared.
He began focusing on the orange which looked almost like leather in his hand. He dug in his finger nail and stared closer at the pores and bumps on it. It felt strange. It looked bright and leathery but felt like...a tennis ball? He threw the orange up and caught it, gripped it tight. It was a nice orange, big and bright and orange. He could imagine tasting it and that brought him to all the oranges he had ever tasted.
He closed his eyes.
Memories of school lunches, memories of football games--his butt on wooden benches, his body coated in sweat and that orange quarter resting in his mouth. When he smiled at Wyatt he thought it made him look like Paul Wall. Well, a black Paul Wall…
Mixin’ up my rap metaphors, that’s a bad sign!
He began peeling the orange again, humming a bit, eyes still closed...he could see the football field clear. He could see his Mom in the stands and that made him think of her--she was far away and he needed her and wanted her. He could hear her sing. He missed his music…
“I’d rather be with you, yeeeeeah,” he begain singing as a whisper, “I said I’d rather be with you.”
He felt his fingernail get in the groove as he sang and a big portion of the orange skin coming off.
“I’d rather be with you, yeeeeah,” this time it was a plea, “I said I’d rather be with you.”
He missed her music.
And then he heard it, soft and distant, so much so that he thought his mind was playing tricks on him.
He opened his eyes…
He dropped the orange on the table.
Beats’ Beats: I’d Rather Be With You - Bootsy Collins
“Do you hear that shit?”, he said unsuredly, “Am I goin’ crazy?”
He looked towards a camera and raised an eyebrow…were the terrorists, like, messing with him? That was taking things too far! Which was a big joke, all things considered...but still! He wasn’t out here tryna to get murdered to a soundtrack.
“Are you fuckin’ with me?!”
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Ivy had been mildly worried. Not in any serious fashion, not like she believed Ace would try to hurt her, and if she did she now had the means to blind him which honestly she was pretty proud of coming up with on her own. No, she was just worried that she'd be forced to pass however many hours she was meant to keep watch (and how was she supposed to check that, anyway?) in stony, sleep-deprived silence. Her fears were quickly proven unfounded when she was quickly reminded that Ace was a huge dork with a cute smile and it was kind of difficult to be dour around him, at least so long as she kept him distracted and talking, which was easy enough to do.
Between the two of them the Gatorade was gone in due time, and she couldn't bring herself to regret having shared it with him. She couldn't reasonably call their conversation light considering the circumstances, but they kept out of the deep end of the emotional swimming pool. Time passed, she assumed, though she couldn't say or prove how long. She imagined Lori and Amelia had simply stayed up until they'd gotten too tired to continue. Looking at Ace it was kind of hard to imagine him being tired anytime soon; if anything he seemed more energetic than he had earlier in the day. Perhaps the nap had done him some good.
She never ate much, but even for her the single energy bar she'd consumed over the course of the day wasn't much weight to fill her stomach, and the smell of Ace's orange as he started to peel it was enough to make her stomach rumble. She considered asking him for a bit—a piece of the likely-melted Kit Kat in her back wasn't exactly a fair trade in terms of nutritional value, but it came with the advantage of being chocolate—but seeing how excited he seemed about it put her off of doing so, and she cracked open her tin of crackers instead.
He was awfully excited about an orange, wasn't he? Nervous energy, maybe. She was starting to feel it herself, crackling static making the hairs on her arms stand on end. Maybe it was contagious, whatever he was, right now. Was? Was doing. Was feeling. She felt like there was something to say there but she couldn't figure out what it was.
She took a bite of a cracker.
It tasted sharp. Razor, not cheddar. She thought about spitting it out but kept chewing, the crunching sound of broken glass echoing in her ears. It tasted like a split lip, like that time Madison had dropped her and she was sure it was on purpose but Lori backed Madison up like she always did and Coach Skinner said it must have been an accident. Split lips and broken skulls. Wrong teacher. Whatever. Either way. She swallowed and it felt gritty all the way down.
Ace was singing, which was weird of him, and he was too loud, and was going to wake everyone. She thought to shush him but her thoughts were loud enough already. She ate the rest of the cracker despite her increasing surety that the crackers might be trying to kill her because she was still hungry and if she took Ace's orange he might be angry and she didn't want that. Oh, he dropped the orange. Did that mean it was hers? If he wasn't holding it it could be hers, if she made it that way, but it was very far away and so was he and she didn't think she could cross a bridge like that right now.
He said he heard something, so she listened.
"I heard a meow."
Between the two of them the Gatorade was gone in due time, and she couldn't bring herself to regret having shared it with him. She couldn't reasonably call their conversation light considering the circumstances, but they kept out of the deep end of the emotional swimming pool. Time passed, she assumed, though she couldn't say or prove how long. She imagined Lori and Amelia had simply stayed up until they'd gotten too tired to continue. Looking at Ace it was kind of hard to imagine him being tired anytime soon; if anything he seemed more energetic than he had earlier in the day. Perhaps the nap had done him some good.
She never ate much, but even for her the single energy bar she'd consumed over the course of the day wasn't much weight to fill her stomach, and the smell of Ace's orange as he started to peel it was enough to make her stomach rumble. She considered asking him for a bit—a piece of the likely-melted Kit Kat in her back wasn't exactly a fair trade in terms of nutritional value, but it came with the advantage of being chocolate—but seeing how excited he seemed about it put her off of doing so, and she cracked open her tin of crackers instead.
He was awfully excited about an orange, wasn't he? Nervous energy, maybe. She was starting to feel it herself, crackling static making the hairs on her arms stand on end. Maybe it was contagious, whatever he was, right now. Was? Was doing. Was feeling. She felt like there was something to say there but she couldn't figure out what it was.
She took a bite of a cracker.
It tasted sharp. Razor, not cheddar. She thought about spitting it out but kept chewing, the crunching sound of broken glass echoing in her ears. It tasted like a split lip, like that time Madison had dropped her and she was sure it was on purpose but Lori backed Madison up like she always did and Coach Skinner said it must have been an accident. Split lips and broken skulls. Wrong teacher. Whatever. Either way. She swallowed and it felt gritty all the way down.
Ace was singing, which was weird of him, and he was too loud, and was going to wake everyone. She thought to shush him but her thoughts were loud enough already. She ate the rest of the cracker despite her increasing surety that the crackers might be trying to kill her because she was still hungry and if she took Ace's orange he might be angry and she didn't want that. Oh, he dropped the orange. Did that mean it was hers? If he wasn't holding it it could be hers, if she made it that way, but it was very far away and so was he and she didn't think she could cross a bridge like that right now.
He said he heard something, so she listened.
"I heard a meow."
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
“A meow?” he asked incredulously, “You don’t hear the fuckin’ music?”
It was clearer now and yet not clear at all, in his head and yet like it was being played right next to him--this was not right. He looked at Ivy, she looked...scared, but that was normal, but she also looked, like, hazy. The world had been in 4k but she appeared still blurry and pink and scared and almost like a water color painting except when he'd blink she'd look like she had a SnapChat filter on in real life. Weird.
That was definitely the wrong word.
“A meow?”
He blinked uneasily as he grabbed his flashlight and pointed it around the house. The shadows danced and the light grinned at him. Laughed. What? That wasn't right, except that it was--the shadows were dancing and the light was laughing. How else would you describe it?
The music stopped, suddenly.
He reached for the orange again and held it to his chest…
“Here kitty kitty.”
He took a breath…
“The music stopped.”
He felt hot, warm and a fresh coat of sweat appeared on his body. When did that get there? How long had it been so hot? Why couldn’t he just finish peeling this orange? He held it close and squeezed with his hand, he felt his muscles flex and pop--he didn’t feel stronger. A chill went down his spine, he didn’t feel warmer.
The shadows got closer.
“Here kitty kitty.”
He stood up, more sudden than the stopping of the music.
“It’s too fuckin’ hot in here!”
The orange was on the table again, followed by his shirt in a quick motion. He felt better with the night air on his skin. The air was thick and opaque but as he rolled his shoulders he felt a wave of euphoria go down his spine…
A sense of deja vu.
Am I…?
No way.
How?
"Uh, sorry Ivy," he said uneasily, "I, uh," he felt his free hand trace his own abs, "I feel funny."
It was clearer now and yet not clear at all, in his head and yet like it was being played right next to him--this was not right. He looked at Ivy, she looked...scared, but that was normal, but she also looked, like, hazy. The world had been in 4k but she appeared still blurry and pink and scared and almost like a water color painting except when he'd blink she'd look like she had a SnapChat filter on in real life. Weird.
That was definitely the wrong word.
“A meow?”
He blinked uneasily as he grabbed his flashlight and pointed it around the house. The shadows danced and the light grinned at him. Laughed. What? That wasn't right, except that it was--the shadows were dancing and the light was laughing. How else would you describe it?
The music stopped, suddenly.
He reached for the orange again and held it to his chest…
“Here kitty kitty.”
He took a breath…
“The music stopped.”
He felt hot, warm and a fresh coat of sweat appeared on his body. When did that get there? How long had it been so hot? Why couldn’t he just finish peeling this orange? He held it close and squeezed with his hand, he felt his muscles flex and pop--he didn’t feel stronger. A chill went down his spine, he didn’t feel warmer.
The shadows got closer.
“Here kitty kitty.”
He stood up, more sudden than the stopping of the music.
“It’s too fuckin’ hot in here!”
The orange was on the table again, followed by his shirt in a quick motion. He felt better with the night air on his skin. The air was thick and opaque but as he rolled his shoulders he felt a wave of euphoria go down his spine…
A sense of deja vu.
Am I…?
No way.
How?
"Uh, sorry Ivy," he said uneasily, "I, uh," he felt his free hand trace his own abs, "I feel funny."
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
"Meow," she said, nodding, meow like the word and not like the sound except she heard both and wasn't sure which one was in her head and which one came out of her mouth. Was there music? Maybe it was quiet. She closed her eyes because every time she blinked things got a little louder so maybe if she left them closed it would help? It did get louder. She thought he was shouting and wondered why no one had come to yell at them yet. But there was still no music. Just a persistent meowing from far away.
She opened her eyes again and the lights were moving and the shadows were too sharp, too defined. They weren't supposed to look like that and she felt like it was a personal affront, like they were mocking her, personally, and she wanted to be mad but they moved again and she thought maybe they were stronger than she was so she stayed very, very still.
Ace was moving still and she worried about him but he was trying to find the cat so she didn't want to stop him. It would be worth it, if he could, if he didn't get swallowed up first. She didn't think he would be. He was too bright for the shadows to get him, but she could be wrong. She crossed her arms over her chest but they were too tight so she dug her hands into the armrests of the chair instead, wood grain, gymnasium floors, handstands. "Be aggressive, B-E aggressive," she whispered for some reason. Her words faded out into the darkness with everything else.
The music stopped, he said. Everything stopped, she thought, for a moment, and then moved again, like a movie skipping. She closed her eyes but then it got loud again, nothing in particular, just static. Her palms were sweaty. Ace was there and then he was still there but his shirt was off now and she missed when that had happened and she didn't like it.
"Funny," she murmured back at him. "Not funny. Whatever it is. It's not. It's too hot."
It was. She wondered if there was a fire, but it was too dark. It was getting darker by the second. She realized she was shaking.
"I don't understand."
She thought she might cry but wasn't sure if she knew how.
She opened her eyes again and the lights were moving and the shadows were too sharp, too defined. They weren't supposed to look like that and she felt like it was a personal affront, like they were mocking her, personally, and she wanted to be mad but they moved again and she thought maybe they were stronger than she was so she stayed very, very still.
Ace was moving still and she worried about him but he was trying to find the cat so she didn't want to stop him. It would be worth it, if he could, if he didn't get swallowed up first. She didn't think he would be. He was too bright for the shadows to get him, but she could be wrong. She crossed her arms over her chest but they were too tight so she dug her hands into the armrests of the chair instead, wood grain, gymnasium floors, handstands. "Be aggressive, B-E aggressive," she whispered for some reason. Her words faded out into the darkness with everything else.
The music stopped, he said. Everything stopped, she thought, for a moment, and then moved again, like a movie skipping. She closed her eyes but then it got loud again, nothing in particular, just static. Her palms were sweaty. Ace was there and then he was still there but his shirt was off now and she missed when that had happened and she didn't like it.
"Funny," she murmured back at him. "Not funny. Whatever it is. It's not. It's too hot."
It was. She wondered if there was a fire, but it was too dark. It was getting darker by the second. She realized she was shaking.
"I don't understand."
She thought she might cry but wasn't sure if she knew how.
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
The shadows danced and he couldn’t catch their rhythm.
The world was wavy and he was lost in the tide.
He missed the music.
His heart was beating fast as his brain tried to remain focused--this wasn’t normal and yet it wasn’t unfamiliar. But how? It couldn’t--was he still dreaming?
He pinched himself.
Ow!
The mark stayed on his skin…
Not dreaming.
Which means?
But how?
When?
He looked at Ivy and saw her...shaking. She looked like a puppy, except, not at all. The black eye almost looked like make up, a star or a heart out of a purple splotch--it fit her. His own green eyes sought hers and he felt his bottom lip quiver. He could feel her energy and sense her spirit. There was electricity surrounding her, geometric patterns and tricks of perception. She was scared. So was he.
His own fear relented to hers, unable to coexist on principle alone.
He looked at her and felt a tugging in his chest, a desire to protect and help. Was that always there? For Ivy? Did that matter now? Did that matter here? The electricity around her had a glow and it caused light to envelop Ivy. Ace had felt this before and the idea became clearer and more vivid as his mind gave voice to the feelings of her heart.
He saw her aura--and it was bright pink.
He was on a knee, next to her chair, with a blink and a step.
He took her hands.
“Hey, hey, hey! It’s okay, it’s okay! I know what’s going on,” said he who was completely clueless, “Ivy, Ivy, Ivy--look at me!”
The world was wavy and he was lost in the tide.
He missed the music.
His heart was beating fast as his brain tried to remain focused--this wasn’t normal and yet it wasn’t unfamiliar. But how? It couldn’t--was he still dreaming?
He pinched himself.
Ow!
The mark stayed on his skin…
Not dreaming.
Which means?
But how?
When?
He looked at Ivy and saw her...shaking. She looked like a puppy, except, not at all. The black eye almost looked like make up, a star or a heart out of a purple splotch--it fit her. His own green eyes sought hers and he felt his bottom lip quiver. He could feel her energy and sense her spirit. There was electricity surrounding her, geometric patterns and tricks of perception. She was scared. So was he.
His own fear relented to hers, unable to coexist on principle alone.
He looked at her and felt a tugging in his chest, a desire to protect and help. Was that always there? For Ivy? Did that matter now? Did that matter here? The electricity around her had a glow and it caused light to envelop Ivy. Ace had felt this before and the idea became clearer and more vivid as his mind gave voice to the feelings of her heart.
He saw her aura--and it was bright pink.
He was on a knee, next to her chair, with a blink and a step.
He took her hands.
“Hey, hey, hey! It’s okay, it’s okay! I know what’s going on,” said he who was completely clueless, “Ivy, Ivy, Ivy--look at me!”
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
It was too quiet or too loud or both at once, like white noise pumped up loud enough to hurt her ears.
It was dark. She was sure there was light because she could see things but they were outlines, jumping, twitching, wrong. Even the light was shadows.
Her eyes darted around until they found his and his found hers. His eyes didn't always look like that, did they? She would have noticed. His outlines were soft where the rest were threatening. He was color and light. His eyes glowed softly like lighthouses in a safe harbor.
"Okay," she said, because she was looking at him. He was right there. He was looking through her, she thought, or inside her, maybe, he was seeing something more than her, she was sure. She was seeing more than him, too. She was seeing the whole world.
His hands were warm and familiar and melted into hers and she decided that that was okay.
It was dark. She was sure there was light because she could see things but they were outlines, jumping, twitching, wrong. Even the light was shadows.
Her eyes darted around until they found his and his found hers. His eyes didn't always look like that, did they? She would have noticed. His outlines were soft where the rest were threatening. He was color and light. His eyes glowed softly like lighthouses in a safe harbor.
"Okay," she said, because she was looking at him. He was right there. He was looking through her, she thought, or inside her, maybe, he was seeing something more than her, she was sure. She was seeing more than him, too. She was seeing the whole world.
His hands were warm and familiar and melted into hers and she decided that that was okay.
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
“Okay.”
He repeated and maintained eye contact. He felt a tension in his chest and he struggled to catch his breath. She was intimidating--wasn’t that the secret? He was scared of her and her attention and now he had it. He wanted his mother or Meilin or the orange or anything that was comfortable and safe.
He gripped her hands tighter and stared into her eyes with a fierceness.
He lost the words he had wanted to say.
“Okay.”
He repeated and broke eye contact, looking down to her lap...where was it? It was just there? No, no, no, no, no….
And she still looked at him and she was still electric and he felt the ocean and the wind and the sun and the stars and the moon and the mountains in every breath. She was looking at him like she needed him, expectant, trusting. He couldn’t tell her he had nothing. He couldn’t be empty handed in comfort.
“Okay.”
He wasn’t, he knew it.
Where is it...where is it...it was just here…
He made eye contact with her again and tried to speak, the words remained caught in his throat. He couldn’t separate now and found himself transfixed to her eyes, trying his best to convey this thought that eluded him, this very important revelation that had seemed so obvious until he had grasped Ivy’s hands. What did he have to say? What did she want? What could he do?
Before he could think, he found himself slipping one hand from her grasp and resting it on her knee and using that to lift himself up…
And kiss her, straight on the lips, long and deep. How long? 7 seconds? 17? He couldn't tell you, he wasn't counting Mississippi's. She was electric but he didn’t feel shocked...she felt soft and she tasted like a mixture of metal and maybelline.
And why the fuck did I do that?
He broke away from her and took a breath…
“We’re on drugs! I dunno how or what but I know we are! We gotta wake everybody up! Now!”
He repeated and maintained eye contact. He felt a tension in his chest and he struggled to catch his breath. She was intimidating--wasn’t that the secret? He was scared of her and her attention and now he had it. He wanted his mother or Meilin or the orange or anything that was comfortable and safe.
He gripped her hands tighter and stared into her eyes with a fierceness.
He lost the words he had wanted to say.
“Okay.”
He repeated and broke eye contact, looking down to her lap...where was it? It was just there? No, no, no, no, no….
And she still looked at him and she was still electric and he felt the ocean and the wind and the sun and the stars and the moon and the mountains in every breath. She was looking at him like she needed him, expectant, trusting. He couldn’t tell her he had nothing. He couldn’t be empty handed in comfort.
“Okay.”
He wasn’t, he knew it.
Where is it...where is it...it was just here…
He made eye contact with her again and tried to speak, the words remained caught in his throat. He couldn’t separate now and found himself transfixed to her eyes, trying his best to convey this thought that eluded him, this very important revelation that had seemed so obvious until he had grasped Ivy’s hands. What did he have to say? What did she want? What could he do?
Before he could think, he found himself slipping one hand from her grasp and resting it on her knee and using that to lift himself up…
And kiss her, straight on the lips, long and deep. How long? 7 seconds? 17? He couldn't tell you, he wasn't counting Mississippi's. She was electric but he didn’t feel shocked...she felt soft and she tasted like a mixture of metal and maybelline.
And why the fuck did I do that?
He broke away from her and took a breath…
“We’re on drugs! I dunno how or what but I know we are! We gotta wake everybody up! Now!”
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
"Okay."
She whispered back to him like an echo in a canyon. Her breathing was unsteady, shaking under her skin. There was pain somewhere but it was floating, nebulous, part of her and maybe not. She thought she could reach out and touch it if she tried but she couldn't move her hands, his were too strong. He was too strong. There was fear there that had been there all along, but his hands were so warm.
He held her hands tighter with a fire burning in his eyes. Embers changing color. She wondered what she could look like through those eyes.
There was a pause in the air where something went unsaid.
“Okay.”
She whispered back again, her voice overlapping his. He was looking for something. What could he be looking for when he had the world inside him?
And he looked back at her and she felt the weight of that world again, a pressure she couldn't define, something pressing on her soul. Heavy but comfortable. A weighted blanket. She trusted him, in that moment, more than she trusted herself or anything else that had ever been. In that moment he was everything.
“Okay.”
Almost simultaneous, this time. They were, she knew.
They were here and nothing else was.
Time sparked forward. She knew he'd looked away again, she felt it, but she didn't see it, his eyes just stayed there, glowing softly. She opened her mouth slightly to say something but found herself at a loss for words because she had forgotten how to make them. Did she need words? He could feel them, couldn't he? What did he want? What should she do?
Before she could say a word, she felt him move, his hand on her leg, she moved to grab for it as her hand suddenly felt weightless and empty, weakly pawing at air.
And he kissed her, straight on the lips, long and deep. How long? She couldn't possibly say. Telling time had never been her strong suit and what was time, anyway? Time didn't exist. Time was an invention. He tasted like salt and oranges.
Suddenly she understood even less than she thought she had.
He broke away from her and she frowned. She saw his shadow move from the corner of her eye. His shadow wasn't safe.
...
"Huh?"
Drugs. Drugs? She didn't know anything about drugs. That didn't make sense. There couldn't be drugs here. They were here. She'd forgotten here for a while, distracted by eyes and light and time, but they were still here. Not at a party at home, they were here, in this space that she knew existed beyond the bladed shadows. She'd never done anything but drink. Was this what drugs did? How did he know that? Ace was a boy scout in the skin of a god.
"Don't," she whispered, and she didn't know what she was saying no to for a few more seconds. "Go. Don't go. Please."
Maybe he was right. Maybe he was. But if he walked away there'd be nothing left to tether her to reality. The shadows crept in closer with every hint of distance.
The fear came creeping back.
She whispered back to him like an echo in a canyon. Her breathing was unsteady, shaking under her skin. There was pain somewhere but it was floating, nebulous, part of her and maybe not. She thought she could reach out and touch it if she tried but she couldn't move her hands, his were too strong. He was too strong. There was fear there that had been there all along, but his hands were so warm.
He held her hands tighter with a fire burning in his eyes. Embers changing color. She wondered what she could look like through those eyes.
There was a pause in the air where something went unsaid.
“Okay.”
She whispered back again, her voice overlapping his. He was looking for something. What could he be looking for when he had the world inside him?
And he looked back at her and she felt the weight of that world again, a pressure she couldn't define, something pressing on her soul. Heavy but comfortable. A weighted blanket. She trusted him, in that moment, more than she trusted herself or anything else that had ever been. In that moment he was everything.
“Okay.”
Almost simultaneous, this time. They were, she knew.
They were here and nothing else was.
Time sparked forward. She knew he'd looked away again, she felt it, but she didn't see it, his eyes just stayed there, glowing softly. She opened her mouth slightly to say something but found herself at a loss for words because she had forgotten how to make them. Did she need words? He could feel them, couldn't he? What did he want? What should she do?
Before she could say a word, she felt him move, his hand on her leg, she moved to grab for it as her hand suddenly felt weightless and empty, weakly pawing at air.
And he kissed her, straight on the lips, long and deep. How long? She couldn't possibly say. Telling time had never been her strong suit and what was time, anyway? Time didn't exist. Time was an invention. He tasted like salt and oranges.
Suddenly she understood even less than she thought she had.
He broke away from her and she frowned. She saw his shadow move from the corner of her eye. His shadow wasn't safe.
...
"Huh?"
Drugs. Drugs? She didn't know anything about drugs. That didn't make sense. There couldn't be drugs here. They were here. She'd forgotten here for a while, distracted by eyes and light and time, but they were still here. Not at a party at home, they were here, in this space that she knew existed beyond the bladed shadows. She'd never done anything but drink. Was this what drugs did? How did he know that? Ace was a boy scout in the skin of a god.
"Don't," she whispered, and she didn't know what she was saying no to for a few more seconds. "Go. Don't go. Please."
Maybe he was right. Maybe he was. But if he walked away there'd be nothing left to tether her to reality. The shadows crept in closer with every hint of distance.
The fear came creeping back.
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
It was dark but he could see her and feel her and taste her…
He couldn’t communicate with her. Not with words. She looked at him, pleading with him not to go and his first instinct was to stay--but his mind rarely rested upon the first option that came to it and right now it was racing like Jeff Gordon.
He looked at her look at him and he struggled to find words--she wanted him to stay and so he stayed.
Why’d I do that? What was I thinking?
Or was the scary thing being that he wasn’t thinking at all? Or maybe he was thinking too much? Or maybe he was thinking too much about how he wasn’t thinking about how he was thinking too much? Or possibly he was thinking too much about how he wasn’t thinking about how he was thinking too much...too much? Did that still make sense? He thought so.
The point being his thoughts were like a treadmill, he worked hard and still went nowhere.
His actions not even he could really understand--shirtless and cheating on his girlfriend on murder island. Where did this come from? How did he stop it?
He closed his eyes and breathed deep, in through the nose and out through the mouth.
“Hey, Ivy…”
Her name, there was a lot in a name, wasn’t there? He hadn’t always liked his. When he was young he had wanted a regular name--his parents were Michael and Jaclyn, how come he couldn’t be Johnny or Jose or something a bit less ‘lookit me!’ than Ace? As he got older his opinions changed, he liked his name. It was his. He was Ace Beats!
There weren’t other people like him, there was just him. His identity was his own to protect and to propagate. He was the only Ace there was. The one and the only.
He opened his eyes and stared at her and thought of Swiftball and Brockman and snorting crushed up pills and gorging late night at Waffle House and laughing and smiling with Meilin and his friends. They were good memories. This current situation felt like that times a million and the whole world still seemed stuck in that Valencia filter. Except it wasn't a party and it wasn't good--it was dangerous and scary and he couldn't trust anybody or anything. Least of all himself.
What had Brockman said again? What tips had he given Ace for his first time?
“Look, it’s just us. Just us in this house, this scary as fuck, dark house…”
That wasn’t what Brockman had said.
He couldn’t find those words if he tried. Was Brockman even on the trip? Ace didn’t think so, Kayden was probably too cool for DC.
He looked towards the table, his half peeled orange looking at him like it had a smiley face. He saw his hat on the floor--when did it get there? Oh, yeah, when he had flung off his shirt. Why did he always do that? What did he have against shirts?
“We’re okay.”
He stretched himself in a weird position trying to reach for his hat and keep close to Ivy, his finger tips brushed the brim and soon it was in his hands again.
“Look.”
He kissed the Tigers logo...
Then placed the hat on her head and smiled. She looked out of character with a baseball hat on, it was funny, but he was sincere. He felt himself put all his energy into that stupid hat.
“It’s magic,” he said with a hushed breath, “You’re safe.”
He believed it.
He couldn’t communicate with her. Not with words. She looked at him, pleading with him not to go and his first instinct was to stay--but his mind rarely rested upon the first option that came to it and right now it was racing like Jeff Gordon.
He looked at her look at him and he struggled to find words--she wanted him to stay and so he stayed.
Why’d I do that? What was I thinking?
Or was the scary thing being that he wasn’t thinking at all? Or maybe he was thinking too much? Or maybe he was thinking too much about how he wasn’t thinking about how he was thinking too much? Or possibly he was thinking too much about how he wasn’t thinking about how he was thinking too much...too much? Did that still make sense? He thought so.
The point being his thoughts were like a treadmill, he worked hard and still went nowhere.
His actions not even he could really understand--shirtless and cheating on his girlfriend on murder island. Where did this come from? How did he stop it?
He closed his eyes and breathed deep, in through the nose and out through the mouth.
“Hey, Ivy…”
Her name, there was a lot in a name, wasn’t there? He hadn’t always liked his. When he was young he had wanted a regular name--his parents were Michael and Jaclyn, how come he couldn’t be Johnny or Jose or something a bit less ‘lookit me!’ than Ace? As he got older his opinions changed, he liked his name. It was his. He was Ace Beats!
There weren’t other people like him, there was just him. His identity was his own to protect and to propagate. He was the only Ace there was. The one and the only.
He opened his eyes and stared at her and thought of Swiftball and Brockman and snorting crushed up pills and gorging late night at Waffle House and laughing and smiling with Meilin and his friends. They were good memories. This current situation felt like that times a million and the whole world still seemed stuck in that Valencia filter. Except it wasn't a party and it wasn't good--it was dangerous and scary and he couldn't trust anybody or anything. Least of all himself.
What had Brockman said again? What tips had he given Ace for his first time?
“Look, it’s just us. Just us in this house, this scary as fuck, dark house…”
That wasn’t what Brockman had said.
He couldn’t find those words if he tried. Was Brockman even on the trip? Ace didn’t think so, Kayden was probably too cool for DC.
He looked towards the table, his half peeled orange looking at him like it had a smiley face. He saw his hat on the floor--when did it get there? Oh, yeah, when he had flung off his shirt. Why did he always do that? What did he have against shirts?
“We’re okay.”
He stretched himself in a weird position trying to reach for his hat and keep close to Ivy, his finger tips brushed the brim and soon it was in his hands again.
“Look.”
He kissed the Tigers logo...
Then placed the hat on her head and smiled. She looked out of character with a baseball hat on, it was funny, but he was sincere. He felt himself put all his energy into that stupid hat.
“It’s magic,” he said with a hushed breath, “You’re safe.”
He believed it.
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
The shadows darted around her. If she didn't look at them maybe they wouldn't exist? That felt possible enough to keep trying.
She'd lost herself, she realized. She wasn't sure if that was the cause of everything but it felt possible enough. She was a hollow shell the shadows were trying to slip inside. Was that why they were so intent on her? Ace didn't seem to notice them, but Ace was full of light and color and sound and there was no room left in him for anything else. She remembered him, she remembered those eyes, she liked practicing barefoot, grass between her toes, wet, she flew through the air, weightless, she looked out on the field. Go, fight, win. She saw herself, pompoms and pigtails, maybe she'd been empty all along.
That was a million years ago. Maybe she was thinking about it wrong. Maybe she was just something else, now, maybe those weren't her memories, maybe that was the person who belonged in the spaces the shadows tried to fill. It felt weird, every time he said her name. Like he was talking to a stranger.
She did remember. Playing football, messing around with Wyatt, sitting poolside with a nervous smile on his face. She'd been messing with him, then, if that was her. Did he remember? Did he forgive her? She was terrified of rejection, always had been, she always positioned herself to be asked so she didn't have to do the asking because being told no would crush her. He stayed close enough that his light kept her safe. That was acceptance, she thought, or hoped.
Time blinked forward again and he was holding his hat. How'd he do that? She watched in awe as he kissed the logo and his light engulfed it, slowly wrapping around the fabric until the whole thing shimmered and glowed, soft and indistinct as the rest of him, like it was part of him now.
And then she was wearing it, and she was light, too.
It's magic, he said. She believed him.
"Okay," she said softly, clinging to his hand as she slid off the chair. She did not float away. The hat held her feet to the surprisingly solid tile, cold and weighty beneath her feet. "We can go now."
She'd lost herself, she realized. She wasn't sure if that was the cause of everything but it felt possible enough. She was a hollow shell the shadows were trying to slip inside. Was that why they were so intent on her? Ace didn't seem to notice them, but Ace was full of light and color and sound and there was no room left in him for anything else. She remembered him, she remembered those eyes, she liked practicing barefoot, grass between her toes, wet, she flew through the air, weightless, she looked out on the field. Go, fight, win. She saw herself, pompoms and pigtails, maybe she'd been empty all along.
That was a million years ago. Maybe she was thinking about it wrong. Maybe she was just something else, now, maybe those weren't her memories, maybe that was the person who belonged in the spaces the shadows tried to fill. It felt weird, every time he said her name. Like he was talking to a stranger.
She did remember. Playing football, messing around with Wyatt, sitting poolside with a nervous smile on his face. She'd been messing with him, then, if that was her. Did he remember? Did he forgive her? She was terrified of rejection, always had been, she always positioned herself to be asked so she didn't have to do the asking because being told no would crush her. He stayed close enough that his light kept her safe. That was acceptance, she thought, or hoped.
Time blinked forward again and he was holding his hat. How'd he do that? She watched in awe as he kissed the logo and his light engulfed it, slowly wrapping around the fabric until the whole thing shimmered and glowed, soft and indistinct as the rest of him, like it was part of him now.
And then she was wearing it, and she was light, too.
It's magic, he said. She believed him.
"Okay," she said softly, clinging to his hand as she slid off the chair. She did not float away. The hat held her feet to the surprisingly solid tile, cold and weighty beneath her feet. "We can go now."
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."