Bret.
She bristled so obviously that if she'd been in a cartoon there would have been an accompanying sound effect. Leaning against Ace as she was she couldn't imagine he'd missed it, though he smoothed past it in conversation; Wyatt might have missed it, the lighting being what it was. It was strange, Ivy thought, how she still had such a visceral reaction to his name, but it wasn't, really, was it? It felt like a lifetime ago. It had been barely more than two weeks. Of course it still made her uncomfortable. New discomforts had piled on the old, but they'd hadn't buried them completely.
But it was good. It was, that they'd found each other. That Wyatt hadn't been alone all this time. They'd still been on barely-speaking terms on the trip; the threat of imminent death had at least done the good of bringing the two of them back together. That thing she had done in the first place, this was absolutely not the time to feel guilty about that, why did she bristle like that, she didn't care about him or she wouldn't have done what she'd done, her regrets had been over Wyatt but there were no consequences here, anymore, anything he might want to do to her, she was afraid—
This whole train of thought was liable to spiral out of her control if she let it. She focused on Ace as she spoke instead, which conveniently gave her an out on something to be more reasonably annoyed about. She pouted at Connor's name, recalling the circumstances of the previous evening. Seemed as though she'd been running into nothing but football players, though she supposed that was a good thing on the other occasions it had happened. Connor, though? Christ, he had been insufferable.
"Chilling is a word for it," Ivy sniffed, before shaking her head and resisting the urge to call him something she may or may not live to regret. Being the bigger person always struck her as an exercise in pointless, boring restraint; it was more that bitching about Connor wasn't going to get any of them anywhere. "Have you... seen anyone else? We, ah," she paused, considering what information Wyatt would find actually useful. "You remember Lori? Cheerleader, the orange one. She has... I don't know, drugs of some kind, she drugged us on the first night, so watch out for her."
Julien. She considered, waffled for a moment, he was no match for Wyatt even without Wyatt's gun or Bret's allyship and he hadn't killed anyone yet so maybe, maybe he wasn't after anyone else after all. Maybe it was just her. Maybe the warning would just sound like her begging for attention because it kind of was, because Wyatt had walked a few steps away and she felt like there was an ocean between them. She wanted his sympathy, his pity, the soft voice he'd used a million years ago when Faith had stomped her toe in.
Maybe she was wrong for that. It didn't matter.
"Julien," she said, quietly, shifting in place, "attacked me on the first morning. Ace found me. You, um. You saw." She glanced downward, her body now covered by the blanket. He couldn't have missed it. For the sake of making her point, she held the blanket shut with one hand, using the other to sweep her hair behind her ear. The swelling had gone down, but purple and blue had still looked back at her when she'd last glanced at herself in the mirror.
"He's—"
She saw herself, for a moment, in his eyes. She imagined it, she knew. Something wavered in her.
"Never mind."
She felt weak, suddenly, weaker than ever, she had never minded when he made her feel that way, like she was tiny, helpless, because he was there and he was strong and he wouldn't be here for long. She knew that. He was going to disappear back through that window and she was never going to see him again.
Stay, she didn't say. He had Bret. He wouldn't.
"I'm just—"
Happy to see you? She'd already said that. Happy you're alive? That, too. Glad I got to see you one more time? The weight of those words pressed so hard on her stomach she thought she might throw up again. She realized she'd grabbed on to Ace's arm, suddenly lightheaded, threatening to fall. At least she had him. At least he wouldn't leave.
Consolation prize.
"—warning you," she finished, lamely, looking at the ground.
sweeter than heaven and hotter than hell
[night 3 -> day 4, still private, i apologize for not a single thing, cw for Sexual Content™]
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
-
MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
Whoops. For a second there, it almost felt like old times. Just two dudes and a girl they both gave the D, chilling and having a good time. Anybody else being behind that curtain and there would have been a very different series of events playing out. But just the three of them, just like this? Shit, it was like if they'd decided to go to some Kentucky bayou instead of DC, and they were still on the trip.
None of that could help Wyatt seeing Ivy cling to Ace and keep him so close. It probably even made things worse, forcing him to break the illusion and realize it was only because Ace had been in the right place, at the right time, to help Ives and that's why they happened to be together, and why he and Bret had found Tirzah. And Tirzah was great, sure, if a little crazy and just a touch unsettling, but they lacked that history.
What if she was clinging to his arm instead? That's all he could see when he looked at her.
Then, like many unpleasant thoughts, he used anything around him to push it out and turn his attention to something else. On to the next one: Like what's with Ivy being so beat up? He pocketed the gun and started to approach.
"Julien, huh?" Wyatt said quietly. Well at least it wasn't Faith again, not much he could do about that. But Julien? Oh, yes, there was a lot he could do there. Her eye looked to be pretty nasty and the way she was standing... come to think of it, he thought he noticed something on her side.
"Move that sheet," Wyatt demanded. He spoke softly, or at least softly by whatever metric somebody could judge Wyatt by, but very firmly. He was set on grabbing the corner of that sheet and whisking it up, Ivy's wishes be damned. ESPECIALLY Ace's wishes be damned. "Cut it out Ives, ain't nothing I ain't seen before..." Wyatt gave a quick glance up to Ace, just that quick 'yeah, I was here first, homeboy,' as he tried to get a look at the bruising.
And holy cow, what bruising it was. It was nastier than some of the shit Bret had sported when he had to be wrapped up in athletic bandage. Wyatt briefly remembered calling him 'THE YETAY' for like a solid week, and of course Bret was not amused, which only made it funnier.
"You dumb shit!" Wyatt stood right back up and snarled to Ace, not Ivy. "She's all stoved up like that and you STILL fucked her? What's the matter with you man?"
He cuffed Ace hard on the shoulder.
None of that could help Wyatt seeing Ivy cling to Ace and keep him so close. It probably even made things worse, forcing him to break the illusion and realize it was only because Ace had been in the right place, at the right time, to help Ives and that's why they happened to be together, and why he and Bret had found Tirzah. And Tirzah was great, sure, if a little crazy and just a touch unsettling, but they lacked that history.
What if she was clinging to his arm instead? That's all he could see when he looked at her.
Then, like many unpleasant thoughts, he used anything around him to push it out and turn his attention to something else. On to the next one: Like what's with Ivy being so beat up? He pocketed the gun and started to approach.
"Julien, huh?" Wyatt said quietly. Well at least it wasn't Faith again, not much he could do about that. But Julien? Oh, yes, there was a lot he could do there. Her eye looked to be pretty nasty and the way she was standing... come to think of it, he thought he noticed something on her side.
"Move that sheet," Wyatt demanded. He spoke softly, or at least softly by whatever metric somebody could judge Wyatt by, but very firmly. He was set on grabbing the corner of that sheet and whisking it up, Ivy's wishes be damned. ESPECIALLY Ace's wishes be damned. "Cut it out Ives, ain't nothing I ain't seen before..." Wyatt gave a quick glance up to Ace, just that quick 'yeah, I was here first, homeboy,' as he tried to get a look at the bruising.
And holy cow, what bruising it was. It was nastier than some of the shit Bret had sported when he had to be wrapped up in athletic bandage. Wyatt briefly remembered calling him 'THE YETAY' for like a solid week, and of course Bret was not amused, which only made it funnier.
"You dumb shit!" Wyatt stood right back up and snarled to Ace, not Ivy. "She's all stoved up like that and you STILL fucked her? What's the matter with you man?"
He cuffed Ace hard on the shoulder.
It did almost feel like it was too normal…
And then it wasn’t.
Ivy talking about Julien, Wyatt examining her and then in his own Wyatt way chastising Ace--he caught the young man off guard and Ace stumbled back a bit at Wyatt’s cuffing of his shoulder. Wyatt wanted to create separation between him and Ivy and mission accomplished! Ace was right, he wasn’t some nerd to be shoved into lockers but Wyatt still had 100lbs on him. And the bigger Carter twin had always liked to throw it around.
“You’ve known me for four years,” he rose his fists again getting in a traditional boxing stance, the gap between him and Wyatt about a yard, “You really think it was my idea.”
It was like they were back in the gym, play fighting again. A few moments ago when Ace had raised his hands at Wyatt he had done so in terror and now he was doing so in jest. How many loopity loops were on this bitch? He shuffled his feet and then spun his right fist around theatrically...
Before his left shot out quickly towards Wyatt's chest and he pinched and twisted in a classic purple nurple. Not really caring if he caught the nurple in question.
And then it wasn’t.
Ivy talking about Julien, Wyatt examining her and then in his own Wyatt way chastising Ace--he caught the young man off guard and Ace stumbled back a bit at Wyatt’s cuffing of his shoulder. Wyatt wanted to create separation between him and Ivy and mission accomplished! Ace was right, he wasn’t some nerd to be shoved into lockers but Wyatt still had 100lbs on him. And the bigger Carter twin had always liked to throw it around.
“You’ve known me for four years,” he rose his fists again getting in a traditional boxing stance, the gap between him and Wyatt about a yard, “You really think it was my idea.”
It was like they were back in the gym, play fighting again. A few moments ago when Ace had raised his hands at Wyatt he had done so in terror and now he was doing so in jest. How many loopity loops were on this bitch? He shuffled his feet and then spun his right fist around theatrically...
Before his left shot out quickly towards Wyatt's chest and he pinched and twisted in a classic purple nurple. Not really caring if he caught the nurple in question.
"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 giggled.
The mood whiplash was palpable, yes, but she couldn't help it. She had flinched away from Wyatt's touch for a moment, instinctually, but she knew him more than well enough to know he was concerned and that's what she had wanted, wasn't it? His voice was as soft as his voice could be, not soft at all by objective standards, but she knew it, remembered it well, it eased her fluttering heart for the moment. Perhaps it wasn't great that the way he spoke Julien's name, in a way dripping subtle venom Wyatt normally couldn't manage, made her smile on its own. But when had she ever been too good for revenge? Now, more than ever, now that it mattered? She wouldn't lose a moment of sleep.
It was when Wyatt overreacted, and Ace retaliated, that a peal of laughter escaped her, followed immediately by a sharp intake of breath and her hand grabbing at her bruises again. It did seem natural, all things considered, that she'd be punished for having fun for a moment. She appreciated the escape regardless. There was something deeply comforting about every moment the two of them acted like themselves.
She swayed slightly as she caught her breath, balanced on the nearest thing, which was Wyatt, now that he'd pushed Ace away from her. She leaned into him. He ran warmer than Ace. A familiar feeling. A familiar feeling that was strange to be having in the same room as another guy she'd been fucking five minutes prior, but considering how unsteady she was on her feet at the moment she figured Ace's theoretical pride could take the beating.
She defended him in the same breath, regardless. "He's right," she said, her voice regaining a bit of strength. "It was mine. Though I hadn't really... thought it out. Evidently."
She shrugged. "Broken rib, I think. Not that I can exactly check." She frowned, then, recalling the moment. "He punched me. In the face, and then he kicked me in the side, a bunch of times, I don't—honestly, I know where we are and everything but this was right after we'd woken up! You'd think he could wait ten minutes before going full psycho but that's too much to ask for some people, I suppose."
The words spilled out, Ivy's voice gaining strength as it went. She was beginning to sound like herself, too.
The mood whiplash was palpable, yes, but she couldn't help it. She had flinched away from Wyatt's touch for a moment, instinctually, but she knew him more than well enough to know he was concerned and that's what she had wanted, wasn't it? His voice was as soft as his voice could be, not soft at all by objective standards, but she knew it, remembered it well, it eased her fluttering heart for the moment. Perhaps it wasn't great that the way he spoke Julien's name, in a way dripping subtle venom Wyatt normally couldn't manage, made her smile on its own. But when had she ever been too good for revenge? Now, more than ever, now that it mattered? She wouldn't lose a moment of sleep.
It was when Wyatt overreacted, and Ace retaliated, that a peal of laughter escaped her, followed immediately by a sharp intake of breath and her hand grabbing at her bruises again. It did seem natural, all things considered, that she'd be punished for having fun for a moment. She appreciated the escape regardless. There was something deeply comforting about every moment the two of them acted like themselves.
She swayed slightly as she caught her breath, balanced on the nearest thing, which was Wyatt, now that he'd pushed Ace away from her. She leaned into him. He ran warmer than Ace. A familiar feeling. A familiar feeling that was strange to be having in the same room as another guy she'd been fucking five minutes prior, but considering how unsteady she was on her feet at the moment she figured Ace's theoretical pride could take the beating.
She defended him in the same breath, regardless. "He's right," she said, her voice regaining a bit of strength. "It was mine. Though I hadn't really... thought it out. Evidently."
She shrugged. "Broken rib, I think. Not that I can exactly check." She frowned, then, recalling the moment. "He punched me. In the face, and then he kicked me in the side, a bunch of times, I don't—honestly, I know where we are and everything but this was right after we'd woken up! You'd think he could wait ten minutes before going full psycho but that's too much to ask for some people, I suppose."
The words spilled out, Ivy's voice gaining strength as it went. She was beginning to sound like herself, too.
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
-
MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
Wyatt caved to let Ivy's near-unnoticeable weight lean on him while he and Ace were locked in the age-old battle of titty-twister versus noogie. If only it could last forever, he'd gladly sacrifice his nipples.
But he already knew he was going to have to head back to the two he was supposed to be watching over, and these guys would stay together. Ivy would never want to be around Bret, even at a time like this. Ace wouldn't mind, but that would leave Ivy out here by herself, also clearly not an option. The alternative would have been to leave Bret behind and...
The only valid options for winning this game were Bret and Wyatt Carter. ... Bret OR Wyatt Carter, and that thought managed to slip through the defenses. There was no room for Ives or Ace in that equation. This could even be the last time he saw either one of them again.
"So, killing Julien, got it," Wyatt said flatly, only after managing to free himself from Ace's death-grip. "Hey, uh... I don't suppose it would be possible to convince you guys to follow me back to our camp, eh?"
The looks on their faces said it all. Wyatt rolled his shoulders, laughed an empty laugh, and clapped a hand down on Ace's shoulder. Ivy got her hair ruffled. It was the least he could think of, the most he could bear to do. "Nah, I didn't think so. We're trying to conserve food anyway, 'cuz I'm a fucking fatty. But we'll be in the area 'round morning if you ever put your clothes back on." The hand on Ace's shoulder slipped down to around the center of his back, balling into a fist. He squeezed him close, in a one-armed hug while he kept the other on Ivy's head; she always was perfect armrest height.
Breaking it off, Wyatt stepped back. "Ha. Fucking faggot," he shot at Ace with a snigger. "Ives I ain't gonna tell you how to live" the rest of "your life, but bandage that shit up and try to take it easy for like... one day? Can you do that, one day? Bret and I will find Julien and we'll have a nice little CHAT."
He waved them off. Left them, before they could say anything more. One leg hoisted over the threshold of the window and then the other. He let his eyes adjust to the darkness for a moment and lowered his profile - not much, but about as much as he could, like he was on the field - and hustled into the night.
((Wyatt Carter, continued elsewhere))
But he already knew he was going to have to head back to the two he was supposed to be watching over, and these guys would stay together. Ivy would never want to be around Bret, even at a time like this. Ace wouldn't mind, but that would leave Ivy out here by herself, also clearly not an option. The alternative would have been to leave Bret behind and...
The only valid options for winning this game were Bret and Wyatt Carter. ... Bret OR Wyatt Carter, and that thought managed to slip through the defenses. There was no room for Ives or Ace in that equation. This could even be the last time he saw either one of them again.
"So, killing Julien, got it," Wyatt said flatly, only after managing to free himself from Ace's death-grip. "Hey, uh... I don't suppose it would be possible to convince you guys to follow me back to our camp, eh?"
The looks on their faces said it all. Wyatt rolled his shoulders, laughed an empty laugh, and clapped a hand down on Ace's shoulder. Ivy got her hair ruffled. It was the least he could think of, the most he could bear to do. "Nah, I didn't think so. We're trying to conserve food anyway, 'cuz I'm a fucking fatty. But we'll be in the area 'round morning if you ever put your clothes back on." The hand on Ace's shoulder slipped down to around the center of his back, balling into a fist. He squeezed him close, in a one-armed hug while he kept the other on Ivy's head; she always was perfect armrest height.
Breaking it off, Wyatt stepped back. "Ha. Fucking faggot," he shot at Ace with a snigger. "Ives I ain't gonna tell you how to live" the rest of "your life, but bandage that shit up and try to take it easy for like... one day? Can you do that, one day? Bret and I will find Julien and we'll have a nice little CHAT."
He waved them off. Left them, before they could say anything more. One leg hoisted over the threshold of the window and then the other. He let his eyes adjust to the darkness for a moment and lowered his profile - not much, but about as much as he could, like he was on the field - and hustled into the night.
((Wyatt Carter, continued elsewhere))
And just like that he was gone…
Ya know, after swearing murder and violence upon his enemies and shouting out a homophobic slur. Just Wyatt things. He missed his friend but he understood why he left. He had chosen Ivy over his brother in Chattanooga--he couldn’t do so out here on Killah Killah Island. Wyatt was trusting Ace with Ivy’s protection...of course he was. Ace had offered her that protection and they had sealed the deal with sweat and seed. Why wouldn't Wyatt think Ace was gonna handle it from now on? It didn''t take a rock scientist.
He went to the flashlight and shut it off. It was dark in the room, well, darker than it had been. He went up to the window and placed the sheet back up carefully--it didn’t fit how he wanted it to fit. The roller-coaster had gone from loopity-loops back to it's favorite maneuver--the rapid descent. Ace felt old questions bubble up, he had no answers.
What was he doing? What game was he playing? Having the history they had--Wyatt left Ivy with Ace without hesitation. After looking like he was willing to throw down without letting Ace get dressed, he just...left. It felt different than with Connor. If the ship was sinking Connor would make sure to have his life vest and yours--just in case his didn’t work. Wyatt was a straight dealing villain. Ace was his friend, subtlety wasn't his thing.
He was Ace’s friend. He had wanted to find his friends--he had, but none of them had stayed together. They were all saying goodbye. Saying goodbye and leaving because they were too cowardly to watch each other die. One tear dropped.
He made his way back to the bed, slowly and then sat down on it. The tears were flowing now, he blinked them away.
“I-Ivy?”
Ya know, after swearing murder and violence upon his enemies and shouting out a homophobic slur. Just Wyatt things. He missed his friend but he understood why he left. He had chosen Ivy over his brother in Chattanooga--he couldn’t do so out here on Killah Killah Island. Wyatt was trusting Ace with Ivy’s protection...of course he was. Ace had offered her that protection and they had sealed the deal with sweat and seed. Why wouldn't Wyatt think Ace was gonna handle it from now on? It didn''t take a rock scientist.
He went to the flashlight and shut it off. It was dark in the room, well, darker than it had been. He went up to the window and placed the sheet back up carefully--it didn’t fit how he wanted it to fit. The roller-coaster had gone from loopity-loops back to it's favorite maneuver--the rapid descent. Ace felt old questions bubble up, he had no answers.
What was he doing? What game was he playing? Having the history they had--Wyatt left Ivy with Ace without hesitation. After looking like he was willing to throw down without letting Ace get dressed, he just...left. It felt different than with Connor. If the ship was sinking Connor would make sure to have his life vest and yours--just in case his didn’t work. Wyatt was a straight dealing villain. Ace was his friend, subtlety wasn't his thing.
He was Ace’s friend. He had wanted to find his friends--he had, but none of them had stayed together. They were all saying goodbye. Saying goodbye and leaving because they were too cowardly to watch each other die. One tear dropped.
He made his way back to the bed, slowly and then sat down on it. The tears were flowing now, he blinked them away.
“I-Ivy?”
"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'
When the light in the room winked out, Ivy was still staring at the open window.
It was Ace coming into view that made her finally divert her eyes. Taking care of the important things, turning off the light, closing and covering the window. Wyatt had been right, of course; they had attempted to mitigate the potential consequences, but leaving the flashlight on at all had been a terrible idea. It was lucky that it had been him who had noticed. It was so lucky that she was tempted to turn the light back on. She would have made that mistake again, every time.
He was long gone, and she would likely never see him again. He had slipped away so quickly, every word she wanted to say flooded and filled her mouth so completely that not one had time to come out.
She heard her name behind her. Ace had gone back to bed. His voice caught. She expected her own would sound much the same. When she turned, she couldn't see his face. The dim light of the moon didn't do much to light the room, especially with the sheet reaffixed to the window. "Yes?", she responded, but too quietly. She felt the word fizzle and die in the air. He was five steps away, but those felt longer as she made them, slowly, carefully, making up for her unsteady legs and her lack of sight. She lowered herself cautiously to the mattress, still wrapped in the blanket, she ought to go wash up again. Thighs still sticky. It could wait until morning.
"Yes," she said again, her voice hitching. She laughed, a little, but wasn't sure why. "I—the light, he was—that was stupid of me, I should have—"
She shook her head. Her shoulders had been shaking already.
That had been goodbye, hadn't it? He hadn't even said the words. Not even a fake-sounding see you later, just a wave and he was gone. She had been so reassured, for a fleeting instant, that her feelings were returned, justified, important. She knew he knew, when he asked. She couldn't stay with him because she couldn't stay with Bret and he knew, still asked, still told them where he was, he knew she couldn't say yes but he hoped or he wouldn't have bothered. He hadn't wanted to go. He didn't have a choice.
Maybe that was just the convenient interpretation. But she had never found Wyatt very hard to read.
Ace, her consolation prize, her replacement, as though she wasn't that to him, too, as though she wasn't a placeholder for his girlfriend, as though she wouldn't have swapped him and Wyatt in an instance if that was a choice she got to make. It wasn't. For him, it might still be. She had done what she could, she had done what she thought she had to, but the seconds before Wyatt climbed through the window stuck with her.
She leaned into him. He didn't move away, and for the moment that could be enough. Her hand felt around for his and squeezed. Comfortable, for now.
"... I'm glad you're still here."
An honest and unsubtle reminder. Subtlety would be wasted, here. She toed the line of begging him not to abandon her without sacrificing her remaining scraps of pride.
He smelled like sweat and sex and her.
It was Ace coming into view that made her finally divert her eyes. Taking care of the important things, turning off the light, closing and covering the window. Wyatt had been right, of course; they had attempted to mitigate the potential consequences, but leaving the flashlight on at all had been a terrible idea. It was lucky that it had been him who had noticed. It was so lucky that she was tempted to turn the light back on. She would have made that mistake again, every time.
He was long gone, and she would likely never see him again. He had slipped away so quickly, every word she wanted to say flooded and filled her mouth so completely that not one had time to come out.
She heard her name behind her. Ace had gone back to bed. His voice caught. She expected her own would sound much the same. When she turned, she couldn't see his face. The dim light of the moon didn't do much to light the room, especially with the sheet reaffixed to the window. "Yes?", she responded, but too quietly. She felt the word fizzle and die in the air. He was five steps away, but those felt longer as she made them, slowly, carefully, making up for her unsteady legs and her lack of sight. She lowered herself cautiously to the mattress, still wrapped in the blanket, she ought to go wash up again. Thighs still sticky. It could wait until morning.
"Yes," she said again, her voice hitching. She laughed, a little, but wasn't sure why. "I—the light, he was—that was stupid of me, I should have—"
She shook her head. Her shoulders had been shaking already.
That had been goodbye, hadn't it? He hadn't even said the words. Not even a fake-sounding see you later, just a wave and he was gone. She had been so reassured, for a fleeting instant, that her feelings were returned, justified, important. She knew he knew, when he asked. She couldn't stay with him because she couldn't stay with Bret and he knew, still asked, still told them where he was, he knew she couldn't say yes but he hoped or he wouldn't have bothered. He hadn't wanted to go. He didn't have a choice.
Maybe that was just the convenient interpretation. But she had never found Wyatt very hard to read.
Ace, her consolation prize, her replacement, as though she wasn't that to him, too, as though she wasn't a placeholder for his girlfriend, as though she wouldn't have swapped him and Wyatt in an instance if that was a choice she got to make. It wasn't. For him, it might still be. She had done what she could, she had done what she thought she had to, but the seconds before Wyatt climbed through the window stuck with her.
She leaned into him. He didn't move away, and for the moment that could be enough. Her hand felt around for his and squeezed. Comfortable, for now.
"... I'm glad you're still here."
An honest and unsubtle reminder. Subtlety would be wasted, here. She toed the line of begging him not to abandon her without sacrificing her remaining scraps of pride.
He smelled like sweat and sex and her.
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
She was glad he was still here? He couldn’t leave, not right now, not right after that.
She knew that.
That’s why she did it.
Well, that was wrong, he was an equal participant---but it had been her idea, she had even admitted it! To Wyatt! That had to count for something, right? He mentally slapped himself in the face, this train of thought was about as stupid as he was. It counted for nothing. It meant nothing.
He knew that.
That’s why he did it.
Okay, so, that's a lie.
“Of course, I can’t leave you alone, not hurt like you are, it wouldn’t be right…,” so noble, so good, so honest—he felt his bile get caught in his throat, “I’m, uh, glad I found you too…”
He swallowed it.
Fake it till you make it.
The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.
He felt her next to him, wrapped in that blanket, leaning into him—and try as he could he couldn’t help but think of her naked under it. Wyatt had been right, what was he thinking? The girl could barely walk…was he really such a dog? So powerless and blinded by full frontal female nudity and fear that this was it. Fuck, he was a dog and he was desperate and he could feel bad about it now...but he wasn't feeling bad about it then.
He regretted that he did it but he also felt regret that he regretted in the first place. He didn’t care about it being filmed (he was gonna die anyway and it's not like he had a lot to be embarrassed 'bout), he wasn’t married to Meilin…but he knew he was wrong. He knew those were justifications. He was doing wrong by both Ivy and Meilin but because it wasn’t murder it felt okay. Like a lesser sin. In Chattanooga he would’ve whooped his own ass.
He felt a lot of self loathing…but a lot of that came from the mixture of ecstasy that had combined with his embarrassment and inadequacy. He had thought he had all the power in this situation. That he knew Ivy for what she was and he wouldn’t get suckered in or dragged into her web longer than he was supposed to.
He was totally in her web, wrapped up until she was ready to bite down and suck him for everything he was worth.
Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?
Shut the fuck up.
She gripped his hands and leaned into him, he gripped hers and kissed her on the forehead.
“You didn’t have to do that…ya’know…I wasn’t like, expectin’ or wantin’ anythin’…,” why was he talking? Did he ever listen to the protests of his psyche, “I, just, like…that was my first and prolly last time. I dunno what it meant or what it means goin’ forward…”
He sighed.
“But, thanks, it was…just thanks.”
He squeezed her hands harder.
He had read in a book (he forgot the title) that when you don’t know what you want, you end up with a lotta shit that you don’t.
Ain't that the truth.
She knew that.
That’s why she did it.
Well, that was wrong, he was an equal participant---but it had been her idea, she had even admitted it! To Wyatt! That had to count for something, right? He mentally slapped himself in the face, this train of thought was about as stupid as he was. It counted for nothing. It meant nothing.
He knew that.
That’s why he did it.
Okay, so, that's a lie.
“Of course, I can’t leave you alone, not hurt like you are, it wouldn’t be right…,” so noble, so good, so honest—he felt his bile get caught in his throat, “I’m, uh, glad I found you too…”
He swallowed it.
Fake it till you make it.
The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.
He felt her next to him, wrapped in that blanket, leaning into him—and try as he could he couldn’t help but think of her naked under it. Wyatt had been right, what was he thinking? The girl could barely walk…was he really such a dog? So powerless and blinded by full frontal female nudity and fear that this was it. Fuck, he was a dog and he was desperate and he could feel bad about it now...but he wasn't feeling bad about it then.
He regretted that he did it but he also felt regret that he regretted in the first place. He didn’t care about it being filmed (he was gonna die anyway and it's not like he had a lot to be embarrassed 'bout), he wasn’t married to Meilin…but he knew he was wrong. He knew those were justifications. He was doing wrong by both Ivy and Meilin but because it wasn’t murder it felt okay. Like a lesser sin. In Chattanooga he would’ve whooped his own ass.
He felt a lot of self loathing…but a lot of that came from the mixture of ecstasy that had combined with his embarrassment and inadequacy. He had thought he had all the power in this situation. That he knew Ivy for what she was and he wouldn’t get suckered in or dragged into her web longer than he was supposed to.
He was totally in her web, wrapped up until she was ready to bite down and suck him for everything he was worth.
Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?
Shut the fuck up.
She gripped his hands and leaned into him, he gripped hers and kissed her on the forehead.
“You didn’t have to do that…ya’know…I wasn’t like, expectin’ or wantin’ anythin’…,” why was he talking? Did he ever listen to the protests of his psyche, “I, just, like…that was my first and prolly last time. I dunno what it meant or what it means goin’ forward…”
He sighed.
“But, thanks, it was…just thanks.”
He squeezed her hands harder.
He had read in a book (he forgot the title) that when you don’t know what you want, you end up with a lotta shit that you don’t.
Ain't that the truth.
"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'
Babbling. Pointlessly, uselessly, things she already knew. And it was charming, wasn't it? It was cute. Ivy had always favored confidence above all things; the larger-than-life quality of the boys she'd taken interest in went way past their physical stature. Ace had been confident, a million years ago, on the football field. She had been confident once, too.
She wanted to scream, a little bit. Of course he hadn't expected anything, of course it was his first time, of course it didn't mean anything, she didn't know if that last one was even true but it would pierce his nervous stuttering if she spat it in his face. He was an idiot, still, he had been all along, and she was tired and hurting and frustrated and the last boy she'd ever had real feelings for had vanished never to be seen again and that, in another life, would be more than enough reasons to tell Ace to shut up. But she needed him. That removed so many options from her table.
She didn't want to hurt him, either, and that in itself stayed her tongue.
None of it was his fault. Where it wasn't Wyatt's, it was hers. More than anything it was the terrorists', obviously, but targetting her anger at them felt hollow, pointless, like blaming things on an act of God. She couldn't be angry at Wyatt, she understood him, he'd done the right thing, and even if she hadn't she couldn't feel anything about him right now but a tired, crushing sadness. Trying to turn that anger inward at her own actions forced it to dissipate into nothing. Ivy was not the sort to blame herself for things. Not now, not ever.
Her frustration was impotent and died quickly as Ace squeezed her hands.
"It's nothing," she said, because you're welcome would sound incredibly arrogant even coming from her. "We should get some rest, I think. If you don't mind..."
She didn't wait for an answer before shrugging the blanket off her shoulders. Still bare-skinned underneath it, it felt like it mattered less now. The shock factor had worn off and the darkness was thick enough that she could barely see more than outlines, anyway.
"Blanket?" she offered politely, holding up a corner for him to tuck under. It was more than warm enough, but she could never sleep without one.
She wanted to scream, a little bit. Of course he hadn't expected anything, of course it was his first time, of course it didn't mean anything, she didn't know if that last one was even true but it would pierce his nervous stuttering if she spat it in his face. He was an idiot, still, he had been all along, and she was tired and hurting and frustrated and the last boy she'd ever had real feelings for had vanished never to be seen again and that, in another life, would be more than enough reasons to tell Ace to shut up. But she needed him. That removed so many options from her table.
She didn't want to hurt him, either, and that in itself stayed her tongue.
None of it was his fault. Where it wasn't Wyatt's, it was hers. More than anything it was the terrorists', obviously, but targetting her anger at them felt hollow, pointless, like blaming things on an act of God. She couldn't be angry at Wyatt, she understood him, he'd done the right thing, and even if she hadn't she couldn't feel anything about him right now but a tired, crushing sadness. Trying to turn that anger inward at her own actions forced it to dissipate into nothing. Ivy was not the sort to blame herself for things. Not now, not ever.
Her frustration was impotent and died quickly as Ace squeezed her hands.
"It's nothing," she said, because you're welcome would sound incredibly arrogant even coming from her. "We should get some rest, I think. If you don't mind..."
She didn't wait for an answer before shrugging the blanket off her shoulders. Still bare-skinned underneath it, it felt like it mattered less now. The shock factor had worn off and the darkness was thick enough that she could barely see more than outlines, anyway.
"Blanket?" she offered politely, holding up a corner for him to tuck under. It was more than warm enough, but she could never sleep without one.
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
Yeah, she was totally bad news--yet he found himself under that blanket very quick. Feeling her bare chest against his side was enough to drive him mad--the shock of naked Ivy being near him hadn't really worn out in the least. His body took the opportunity for respite that his mind rejected.
Anything that felt this good couldn't be that bad, right?
Before Wyatt had come in and before he had been besotted with doubt, Ivy had felt sweet--intoxicating. This right here, laying together, skin on skin and flesh on flesh was also sweet, dangerously so. Wyatt had been right, Ace had been stupid and reckless...he couldn't be, it was life or death out here. He and Ivy were just teenagers filled with stress and hormones. They had been desperate and resigned to die. It didn't mean anything, it couldn't mean anything.
It was a mistake, a stumble, a moment of weakness.
"Yeah," he said finally, "Some rest'll do us both good."
Tomorrow would bring more things...but it couldn't bring more of that. He needed to find Meilin and be ready to fight for them both. He needed to be smart and not just a being based on desire and selfishness. He had always imagined his first time being with someone he cared about. It would be the last time. It had to be. He tried to go to sleep but he couldn't help but think of a million things: Ivy, Meilin, Connor, Wyatt, his Mom, his Dad, Ramsay laughing at him and the whole world seeing his junk. Rest eluded him as it had for the better part of three days.
He promised himself a hundred times that what happened between him and Ivy would never happen again. It couldn't--this had to be the first and the last time. It was just smart. They weren't on vacation or at a house party--they were fighting for their lives in a terrorist death game. It had to be the last time. It couldn't happen again. He made a thousand promises to himself.
Each subsequent time felt better than before. She was bad news. She was dangerous. He knew that--he wanted that.
The sun bled through the thin sheet at the window...
And for the first time in three days, Ace greeted the morning snoring. Guilty conscience be damned.
Anything that felt this good couldn't be that bad, right?
Before Wyatt had come in and before he had been besotted with doubt, Ivy had felt sweet--intoxicating. This right here, laying together, skin on skin and flesh on flesh was also sweet, dangerously so. Wyatt had been right, Ace had been stupid and reckless...he couldn't be, it was life or death out here. He and Ivy were just teenagers filled with stress and hormones. They had been desperate and resigned to die. It didn't mean anything, it couldn't mean anything.
It was a mistake, a stumble, a moment of weakness.
"Yeah," he said finally, "Some rest'll do us both good."
Tomorrow would bring more things...but it couldn't bring more of that. He needed to find Meilin and be ready to fight for them both. He needed to be smart and not just a being based on desire and selfishness. He had always imagined his first time being with someone he cared about. It would be the last time. It had to be. He tried to go to sleep but he couldn't help but think of a million things: Ivy, Meilin, Connor, Wyatt, his Mom, his Dad, Ramsay laughing at him and the whole world seeing his junk. Rest eluded him as it had for the better part of three days.
He promised himself a hundred times that what happened between him and Ivy would never happen again. It couldn't--this had to be the first and the last time. It was just smart. They weren't on vacation or at a house party--they were fighting for their lives in a terrorist death game. It had to be the last time. It couldn't happen again. He made a thousand promises to himself.
~~~
He broke those promises twice more before day break. Each subsequent time felt better than before. She was bad news. She was dangerous. He knew that--he wanted that.
The sun bled through the thin sheet at the window...
And for the first time in three days, Ace greeted the morning snoring. Guilty conscience be damned.
"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 wasn't a particularly restful night.
That was fine. Ivy knew what she was giving up when she'd walked into the room stripped bare in the first place. She hadn't been sure quite what to expect when she'd offered the blanket, the force with which Ace had thrown that water bottle after the first time burned into her mind, fear of rejection, fear of abandonment, fear of anything but him holding her, and when he did the tension pitting her stomach from Wyatt's sudden arrival and more-sudden disappearance burned away. Lips met lips, shorts were kicked away. She'd been overthinking, of course. She had nothing to regret.
The pain was constant, yes. The pain was overwhelming. That was fine, too. What did it matter? The doctor-recommended "x days of bedrest" came with the assumption that something came after. That there was a pain-free future to look forward to and no matter how careful she was, no matter how much she rested, there was no chance she'd recover before this game was over. If she made it out, she could deal with the consequences of her actions then. If she didn't, what would have been the point of being careful?
It hurt, regardless. No matter what she did she would be in pain for the rest of her life. The least she could do was own it.
She wasn't surprised when he dozed off, or annoyed; it wasn't as though she had much to say. She doubted she'd get much sleep herself with the pain throbbing restlessly in her side, but she tucked in under his arm anyway. He was warm, and his heartbeat was strong, and he had kissed her first, and that was enough.
She was dozing, gently, when the first rays of sunlight streamed through the white sheets over the windows of the infirmary. Ivy stirred, slightly, but did not move for a long time. The night hadn't felt so long, she must have fallen asleep in fits and spurts, though she felt like it had been a hundred times that she'd awoken, reassured herself that she wasn't alone, and closed her eyes again. She'd had nightmares that faded when she heard Ace's steady breathing, but her throat felt tight, every time.
Some time passed, some hours, perhaps. She moved gently, wriggling out from under Ace's arm, wincing at the effort required to push herself up to sitting. Leaving her bag on the other side of the room seemed like a poor decision in the light of day, considering how much effort it would take to retrieve both breakfast and some ibuprofen. Leaving her clothes in the other room didn't seem well-considered, either, though she'd been kind of making an effort not to think too hard at the time. God, the thought of going back in that room in the light of day pained her. Not that she of all people could deny that her dramatic entrance had had its desired effect, but still. She could have just put the dress on the desk before she got his attention, or something?
It wasn't embarrassing, she was far past that, but her own skin looked strange to her in the light of day, as though the her of the night had been an illusion, a dream. She felt very real, now, pores and sweat and bruises and all. She thought to cover herself and didn't, staring blankly into space instead for another moment as she summoned the will to stand, find her clothes, find some food. She would let Ace sleep as long as she could. He looked so peaceful.
The speakers interrupted her reverie.
It was funny, almost.
The second morning she'd cried, and she'd thought she was lucky, maybe, because she'd only lost one friend. The third morning she'd felt nothing and thought herself cold and maybe she was but that second morning had already started to feel so far away. She'd left the ring in the other room with the rest of her clothes. She only noticed when she found herself moving to twist it and found nothing.
She twinged at Dolly. Close enough to hurt. Not close enough to hurt too much, though. They had never been close, more friendly than friends, it might hurt a little more if she dwelled on it but why would she? Easier to forget, as quickly as she could. As though she needed more reminders that Blaise was a monster.
She thought that was her one. Lucky, again, relatively.
And then she heard Tristan's name.
Ivy didn't hear the rest of the announcement, didn't notice Ace beside her, didn't even notice if he was awake, she had to forget, she had to forget, she had to forget, she heaved silent sobs, hugging herself tightly.
That was fine. Ivy knew what she was giving up when she'd walked into the room stripped bare in the first place. She hadn't been sure quite what to expect when she'd offered the blanket, the force with which Ace had thrown that water bottle after the first time burned into her mind, fear of rejection, fear of abandonment, fear of anything but him holding her, and when he did the tension pitting her stomach from Wyatt's sudden arrival and more-sudden disappearance burned away. Lips met lips, shorts were kicked away. She'd been overthinking, of course. She had nothing to regret.
The pain was constant, yes. The pain was overwhelming. That was fine, too. What did it matter? The doctor-recommended "x days of bedrest" came with the assumption that something came after. That there was a pain-free future to look forward to and no matter how careful she was, no matter how much she rested, there was no chance she'd recover before this game was over. If she made it out, she could deal with the consequences of her actions then. If she didn't, what would have been the point of being careful?
It hurt, regardless. No matter what she did she would be in pain for the rest of her life. The least she could do was own it.
She wasn't surprised when he dozed off, or annoyed; it wasn't as though she had much to say. She doubted she'd get much sleep herself with the pain throbbing restlessly in her side, but she tucked in under his arm anyway. He was warm, and his heartbeat was strong, and he had kissed her first, and that was enough.
She was dozing, gently, when the first rays of sunlight streamed through the white sheets over the windows of the infirmary. Ivy stirred, slightly, but did not move for a long time. The night hadn't felt so long, she must have fallen asleep in fits and spurts, though she felt like it had been a hundred times that she'd awoken, reassured herself that she wasn't alone, and closed her eyes again. She'd had nightmares that faded when she heard Ace's steady breathing, but her throat felt tight, every time.
Some time passed, some hours, perhaps. She moved gently, wriggling out from under Ace's arm, wincing at the effort required to push herself up to sitting. Leaving her bag on the other side of the room seemed like a poor decision in the light of day, considering how much effort it would take to retrieve both breakfast and some ibuprofen. Leaving her clothes in the other room didn't seem well-considered, either, though she'd been kind of making an effort not to think too hard at the time. God, the thought of going back in that room in the light of day pained her. Not that she of all people could deny that her dramatic entrance had had its desired effect, but still. She could have just put the dress on the desk before she got his attention, or something?
It wasn't embarrassing, she was far past that, but her own skin looked strange to her in the light of day, as though the her of the night had been an illusion, a dream. She felt very real, now, pores and sweat and bruises and all. She thought to cover herself and didn't, staring blankly into space instead for another moment as she summoned the will to stand, find her clothes, find some food. She would let Ace sleep as long as she could. He looked so peaceful.
The speakers interrupted her reverie.
It was funny, almost.
The second morning she'd cried, and she'd thought she was lucky, maybe, because she'd only lost one friend. The third morning she'd felt nothing and thought herself cold and maybe she was but that second morning had already started to feel so far away. She'd left the ring in the other room with the rest of her clothes. She only noticed when she found herself moving to twist it and found nothing.
She twinged at Dolly. Close enough to hurt. Not close enough to hurt too much, though. They had never been close, more friendly than friends, it might hurt a little more if she dwelled on it but why would she? Easier to forget, as quickly as she could. As though she needed more reminders that Blaise was a monster.
She thought that was her one. Lucky, again, relatively.
And then she heard Tristan's name.
Ivy didn't hear the rest of the announcement, didn't notice Ace beside her, didn't even notice if he was awake, she had to forget, she had to forget, she had to forget, she heaved silent sobs, hugging herself tightly.
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
To his credit or probably against it, Ace spent the majority of the third announcement on the fourth day of the seventh version of Survival of the Fittest sleeping like a baby. He had no right to sleep so easily and heavily--but three days of maybe three hours of sleep a night had caught up with him. Getting lost in Ivy’s sauce had been the breaking point.
He wouldn't have woken up to an orchestra.
Dumplings and fried rice though? For a second he felt like jumping up and shouting out that he would like General Tso's. That shout died in his stomach and turned into a whisper. He knew where he was. His eyes turned to Ivy, naked as he was on this little hospital mattress. He knew what had happened last night. He heard her quiet sobs and saw her fragile posture. He knew what was happening now.
My dumbass slept through the announcement…fuck. This is bad. She’s really sad. What do I do? Who died? Myles? Anyone I know? Is that polite to ask? When is it? Fuck! Shit! Quit bein' stupid and pay attention! Think, like, ahead and shit!
Fuck!
I’m still so fuckin’ tired.
He swallowed his grogginess and rubbed his sleepy eyes with his hand. All that sleep and he wasn't rested. All that release and just more stress.
He forced himself to sit up and his other hand found Ivy’s shoulder.
He didn’t know what to say.
He didn’t know what to do.
“S’okay…”
It’d have to suffice.
He wouldn't have woken up to an orchestra.
Dumplings and fried rice though? For a second he felt like jumping up and shouting out that he would like General Tso's. That shout died in his stomach and turned into a whisper. He knew where he was. His eyes turned to Ivy, naked as he was on this little hospital mattress. He knew what had happened last night. He heard her quiet sobs and saw her fragile posture. He knew what was happening now.
My dumbass slept through the announcement…fuck. This is bad. She’s really sad. What do I do? Who died? Myles? Anyone I know? Is that polite to ask? When is it? Fuck! Shit! Quit bein' stupid and pay attention! Think, like, ahead and shit!
Fuck!
I’m still so fuckin’ tired.
He swallowed his grogginess and rubbed his sleepy eyes with his hand. All that sleep and he wasn't rested. All that release and just more stress.
He forced himself to sit up and his other hand found Ivy’s shoulder.
He didn’t know what to say.
He didn’t know what to do.
“S’okay…”
It’d have to suffice.
"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 jumped at something suddenly touching her shoulder before settling, realizing. Ace was awake, barely, judging from how slurred his one-word response was. Had he heard the announcements himself? Probably not. Not that she knew if there was anything on it that would get a reaction from him in the first place, she knew him but didn't know him, she hadn't heard Connor's name or either Carter's or Tirzah's or Meilin's but who knew who else he loved? She barely remembered, now, names slipping through her fingers.
Tristan was always more Myles's than hers, but that was okay. The subject of many a "guess what I'm doing right now and by what I mean who" late-night text and Ivy always rolled her eyes and messaged back with overdramatic horror. But it was nice, she thought. Tristan was the right choice. She was suspicious of him, sometimes, of his motives, of his inability to commit or stop equivocating, but at the end of the day most of his flaws boiled down to him being a bit too kind for his own good. After everything Myles had been through, he deserved someone like that.
It hadn't worked out that way, but it hadn't not worked out, either. That wasn't a bridge they'd ever burned, there was always a chance, and he was still her friend, too. Even through all the bullshit with Gaelan and Nick, even through her own stupid moods about friendship and loyalty and whatever, when had Tristan ever hurt her, when had he given her a reason to suspect a thing? They hadn't talked much in a while. He'd started to slip away from her, and that had made her paranoid, too.
Now he was dead.
And she couldn't think about it. And she had to forget.
Myles would be devastated.
"Yeah" bubbled out from between her lips as though it meant anything. "Yeah. Yeah."
It was okay. It wasn't allowed to be anything else. She didn't move.
Tristan was always more Myles's than hers, but that was okay. The subject of many a "guess what I'm doing right now and by what I mean who" late-night text and Ivy always rolled her eyes and messaged back with overdramatic horror. But it was nice, she thought. Tristan was the right choice. She was suspicious of him, sometimes, of his motives, of his inability to commit or stop equivocating, but at the end of the day most of his flaws boiled down to him being a bit too kind for his own good. After everything Myles had been through, he deserved someone like that.
It hadn't worked out that way, but it hadn't not worked out, either. That wasn't a bridge they'd ever burned, there was always a chance, and he was still her friend, too. Even through all the bullshit with Gaelan and Nick, even through her own stupid moods about friendship and loyalty and whatever, when had Tristan ever hurt her, when had he given her a reason to suspect a thing? They hadn't talked much in a while. He'd started to slip away from her, and that had made her paranoid, too.
Now he was dead.
And she couldn't think about it. And she had to forget.
Myles would be devastated.
"Yeah" bubbled out from between her lips as though it meant anything. "Yeah. Yeah."
It was okay. It wasn't allowed to be anything else. She didn't move.
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
She flinched at his touch before settling into a familiar charade. He didn't mind her playing pretend, he had long given his imagination the keys.
Still for all that, there still existed a gap between him and Ivy. It was made more apparent by her current distraught state combined with Ace's impotent response.
They were together but they were separate. Intimate but strangers. Familiar and yet completely alien. He couldn’t endeavor to understand Ivy no less than she could him. He still tried to or at least thought about trying. What he really did was look at her with a blank expression not even he could place meaning towards. He looked away when she spoke. He couldn't define that either.
“Yeah...,” he said uneasily, "Yeah."
His hand left her shoulder, he scratched himself. He had no idea what to say. He never did. Without fail.
The silence was deafening, they sat in it for a few moments--her noiseless sobs the only piece of percussion. He broke the silent morning with an eagerness and disregard that he found unseeming and uncomfortable. He did it anyway. He couldn't help himself.
“I missed the announcements.”
Stating the obvious. That was something he always did. Without fail.
“Who was it this time? For you, I mean.”
Still for all that, there still existed a gap between him and Ivy. It was made more apparent by her current distraught state combined with Ace's impotent response.
They were together but they were separate. Intimate but strangers. Familiar and yet completely alien. He couldn’t endeavor to understand Ivy no less than she could him. He still tried to or at least thought about trying. What he really did was look at her with a blank expression not even he could place meaning towards. He looked away when she spoke. He couldn't define that either.
“Yeah...,” he said uneasily, "Yeah."
His hand left her shoulder, he scratched himself. He had no idea what to say. He never did. Without fail.
The silence was deafening, they sat in it for a few moments--her noiseless sobs the only piece of percussion. He broke the silent morning with an eagerness and disregard that he found unseeming and uncomfortable. He did it anyway. He couldn't help himself.
“I missed the announcements.”
Stating the obvious. That was something he always did. Without fail.
“Who was it this time? For you, I mean.”
"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'
Who was it this time.
She could have strangled him.
"I'm going to get dressed," she said, too quickly, pulling herself to her feet, it hurt, why wouldn't it hurt, everything did.
Foot in front of foot until he was out of sight and she was all alone, again.
For once, that was for the best.
She could have strangled him.
"I'm going to get dressed," she said, too quickly, pulling herself to her feet, it hurt, why wouldn't it hurt, everything did.
Foot in front of foot until he was out of sight and she was all alone, again.
For once, that was for the best.