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Post by Milo Ventimiglia on Mar 4, 2011 5:27:15 GMT -5
As Xara walked off, I turned to Theresa and tried not to stare down at her enormous bulge. Pregnancy scared me; I’ll admit it. The thought of life growing in one’s stomach was to me a very, very huge thing. Theresa and recently, Xara, would spend nine months sharing everything they ingested with the unborn baby, as well as their protection. They had this huge, almost incomprehensible (to me, anyway) responsibility with them every second of their pregnancy until they gave birth. I nearly sweated. Birth. I set my jaw a little and forced a smile. Theresa put her hands on her hips, tilting her head in my direction. “You look really uncomfortable, Max, I swear, between you, Don and Daniel, I feel like a ticking time bomb. It’s a baby, not a bomb, you jerk!” “I...what? I wasn’t thinking about that,” I protested. “Yes, you were! Don always gulps down at me and he’s so overprotective...geez, leave the pregnant lady alone! Men!” “I swear, I wasn’t,” I stammered. She gave me an almost cruel smile. “I’m going for a natural home birth, you know. You should have seen Don’s face when I broke the news. A natural home birth.” The thought of a baby coming out of...of... “Anyway, I need some fresh air,” Theresa announced. She smirked again and left, knowing she had implanted the image that no male wanted in his head right into my impressionable, vulnerable brain. I shifted about uncomfortably, watching her leave. I liked to think of myself as different to the average person, someone who didn’t feel freaked out by women and birth. But hell, even women felt freaked out about that stuff. For a man, it was just something that was never, ever spoken about until he got his partner pregnant. Then, he would try not to imagine anything in graphic detail about reproduction while he went with his wife to various pregnancy and birthing classes. I wanted to be committed 100% to Xara and our baby.
“Max!” Mom called. “Sweetie, could you go and get some wild parsley? You need to go down to the stream, there is a whole lot of it growing there.” “What happened to the vegetable patch?” I asked, not intending to sound lazy. Mom scowled from the kitchen doorway, interpreting my question differently. “Go and get some fresh air, Max. The walk might do you good, considering all you’ve been through this week.” She glowered. “Including that thunderstorm you got into the middle of.” “I’m going, I’m going!” I frowned at myself and my silly pregnancy fears, then shook my head a little and followed Theresa’s path. I would have far scarier things to consider very soon, all related to fatherhood. Dad and I had already had a small discussion tonight about how to enrol our unborn baby into childcare and elementary school, because waiting lists were like, five years long even for non-human child institutions.
I didn’t intentionally take the same path Theresa had. I picked up her scent not far away from the fenced paddock, realising she had gone the same way as I was headed. I could also smell Xara, but I didn’t want to interrupt her meditation. She was heavily into all that Tai Chi stuff, or something similar to it, and I wanted to learn some of it. Maybe it would help to calm the energy I usually had racing around inside whenever I was even mildly anxious. “Wow, that moon,” I murmured to myself, glancing to the west. The moon had almost risen over the tree line across the paddock, its silver rays streaming over the wilderness, setting it alight with white flames. It reflected brilliantly off a patch of mammatus clouds to the south. There had been a severe thunderstorm earlier, but I hadn’t chased it; someone else had gotten that job. I appreciated the sight for a moment, then continued on my way.
The forest was quite dark. I could sense Theresa close by, and I deliberately tried to steer clear of her. Maybe she wanted privacy, and I was a bit reluctant to bump into her after our little exchange earlier. I doubted she would mention it to Xara, but she might if I aggravated her further. She was perpetually moody of late, a mixture of hormones, nerves and discomfort. A trickling sound and the smell of water and water plants signalled the stream’s presence. I stepped carefully over mossy rocks and logs, delicate night-blooming flowers and strange herbs in the undergrowth. I crouched by the riverbank, making use of my natural night vision to scope out the parsley. This particular kind loved water, I knew. It wasn’t the sort which was sold in the supermarkets. Mom preferred this variety and referred to it as ‘river parsley’. It could be used to garnish food like normal parsley, but it also had a distinct peppery flavour which she loved to add to salads. My nose found it before my eyes did. I could smell it, so I began gently pushing some reeds aside in search of the forest delicacy. I removed some mushrooms, my nose telling me that they were edible, and began chomping away on them quite happily.
Distracted by my mom’s culinary mission, I was slow to register the sounds of people talking to my left. Forget my incredible hearing; I was the sort of guy who daydreamed his way through the weeks and missed important details because I was so involved in something else or whatever I was thinking about. “No, stay away from me, whoever you are!” Those were the first words which I actually heard. I guess I had heard murmuring before that, but Theresa’s fearful tone of voice must have sliced right through my zoned out mind. I stood up quickly, cocking my head to the side to listen. “I can’t...something wrong...” a harsh voice hissed. “Feed.” “Get away!” Theresa screamed. Shit. What the fuck was going on? Who had invaded my parents’ territory? I set off at a run, grabbing a sturdy branch on the way. Theresa was vulnerable right now. She couldn’t shape-change or she would miscarry. Even with her heightened senses and extra strength, she was also heavily pregnant.
I came onto the scene just as a ruby-eyed man with clawed hands and a hunched-over shape turned to regard my interruption. Theresa was backed against a tree, her eyes wide and her skin clammy. “Max...Max...” she gasped. “Max...my water just broke...” “Oh my god! Hey just...just sit down, just relax, do um...you know, those breathing exercises...okay?” “Can’t...control...” the man with the glowing red eyes gasped. “I’m going to kill and eat...” “No...no, hey, just listen, okay?” I put my hands up to placate him. He wasn’t human. He was standing in the shadow, but now he stepped forward into a small patch of moonlight, and my eyes confirmed what my nose had told me. At around six foot tall hunched over, the creature was relatively humanoid. He would obviously have been taller had he been standing straight. His hands shook in front of him, fingers ending in claws. Spikes poked out of his back. It looked as though they had just torn straight through his tan jacket, which seemed to be too small for him, as though he had shape-changed. He otherwise appeared to be relatively human; his face was unshaven and his hair messy. He smelled as if he hadn’t showered in weeks. He reeked of the forest. There was no collar around his neck. Had he been hiding in the forest for some time? Either he saw me looking, or he saw the collar around my neck and Theresa’s, because he touched his neck and rasped at me, “I got it off...escaped...I made a mistake...it...it stopped...this...I need...I can’t stop...I...need my collar, I didn’t know this would happen...”
The demonic creature suddenly snarled and lurched toward Theresa. Had he been smart, he would have dispatched me first, because I was obviously the more able-bodied out of us both. He stumbled over something, maybe his own, malformed foot which barely fit into his boot. It was all the hesitation I needed. I launched myself at the man. Maybe if I could wrestle him to the ground, I could help him gain control. Clearly, something was wrong with him, something which his collar had prevented. As much as I hated to admit it, the collar could, for some, provide salvation. Some people had powers and abilities, even natural curses, which did not agree with their lifestyles and even put those around them in danger. I knew of a lot of people who had been bitten by certain kinds of werewolves or other passed-on diseases which made them dangerous; those people had all begged for a cure or a collar to stop them changing and killing. Not all were-animals killed. Theresa’s kind were a sort of ‘were’, but the gene could not be passed on by biting. They were born shifters. She was in fact a felithrope, a cat shape-shifter. ‘Were’ was a slang term which some found insulting and others used for simplicity.
My attack send the man and I crashing to the ground. Somehow, he managed to recover quicker than I did, and he swiped at me with a clawed hand, dragging the sharp talons across my cheek. He narrowly missed my eye, and I felt my insides freeze. “Stop, I can help you,” I begged. I tried to grab him in a neck hold, but realised just in time that he had spines on his neck as well. They grew shorter and disappeared in his hair, but they would have done some damage if I had tightened my arm around his neck. I half backed off, then fell flat on my back as he kicked me in the chest, the impact knocking the wind out of me. I wasn’t used to fighting or violence in general. I was a storm chaser, not a brawler. Nonetheless, I was in my own right fairly dangerous. I formed a ball of electricity, just a small one, hoping to stun him. It flew forward, impacting on his shoulder. His fiery eyes glowed brighter, and instead of passing out, he staggered to the side slightly and began swinging his head back and forth in pain and confusion. Jesus, it was gonna take a lot more to knock him out.
Not once did I consider killing him. Not that I probably could have without a shitload of difficulty anyway, since I wasn’t exactly full of energy today. I was, in fact, kind of run down. I was just tired from work and a lot of anxieties about my future. I definitely wasn’t in prime fighting condition. But even if I had been able to quickly produce enough energy to kill him before he attacked me again (it takes a little bit to focus so much energy), I wouldn’t have ended his life. Call it a mistake, a softness that would someday get me killed, but it just wasn’t in me. “Max...” Theresa’s voice was desperate. “I’m sorry,” our attacker gasped. He groaned in pain, and I could feel the heat radiating from his reddening skin. Was he still changing? “Let me help you,” I said as gently as I could. He held the shoulder I had shot the energy ball at, then staggered towards me as I stood up. The scratches on my cheek burned like fire, and I felt blood dripping down my chin. I tried to ignore it. “Need meat,” he cried out. My eyes widened in alarm as he struck out again. His hand slipped under my collar, his claws digging into my neck. I gurgled, grabbing at his wrist as he lifted me. I was horrified to feel blood flowing quickly from my neck. He opened his mouth to reveal sharp fangs, then dragged his claws across my chest, tearing into my shirt, scraping my ribs and exposing the bone. Theresa screamed. Something must have distracted the creature other than her scream, because he suddenly dropped me and spun around. I collapsed onto the ground without trying to break my fall because I was too weak. It was suddenly very difficult for me to concentrate. I lifted a hand under my collar weakly, intending to stem the flow of the blood. I later found out that he hadn’t severed an artery, but it was hard to tell because there was so much blood all over my face, neck and down my chest. The wound on my chest was probably the worst. I felt nauseous and faint, so I could forgive myself for not believing that what happened next was real.
“Max please ... don’t leave ... Xara?” “Theresa!” I could vaguely hear Don’s voice nearby, but I was slipping into darkness. I don’t know how I managed to stay awake. Something was happening. A fight? Somehow, I kept my eyes open. Xara had arrived on the scene. Things began to get ugly. Very ugly. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. You’re delirious. Xara wouldn’t... But my eyes didn’t deceive me. “Xara, no...” I gasped, just as my parents came onto the scene and the creature breathed his last breath. I coughed weakly, spitting blood out. My sweet, vulnerable, pregnant girlfriend...surely she hadn’t. No questions asked, no mercy. I didn’t recognise the look in her eyes. Xara had just killed someone.
((OOC: I was very vague about Xara of course. So you could type what you wanted. Max is pretty injured, but nothing life threatening. A lot of blood for superficial wounds, other than his neck. The claws sunk pretty deep but missed his arteries. Nothing two weeks of rest won’t heal. I figure his parents will stare at Xara momentarily in shock, then Daniel will grab Max, and Don and Maria will tend to Theresa and get her inside to give birth. Added the birth thing for more dramas haha.))
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Post by tessa on Mar 5, 2011 17:59:52 GMT -5
There were only three things that the warrior needed to know; Max was injured, Theresa was in labor, and there was man who was chasing them, hunting them... harming them. Xara was furious. How dare he attack her mate? Even worse! How dare he attack a pregnant woman? Let alone a pregnant woman about to give birth! Death was a softer punishment than the one he would have received on her home planet, had he even considered doing something so incredibly wrong and against the oldest established and standardized laws of the known warring nations.'
Xara rushed the man as he was about to attack Max again, having knocked him stupid already. The tactical mind in Xara had expected at least that much from the crazed attacker. The advantage was there for him to take, and if he eliminated Max from the scene he would not only have another meal but also expose the weaker prey, Theresa, to his mercy without Max trying to protect her. It was, as the humans say, a golden opportunity, and truth be told if Xara were in his position she would have jumped with joy over her incredible luck.
The man bent over Max, clawed hand raised to strike. Xara could not have gotten there fast enough. She felt as if she had suddenly gained one hundred pounds, that her heart was giving out, that she was running through water. She launched herself at the man and tackled him away from Max. The man faltered and Xara dove left, rolling onto her toes, snarling at the man.
"Feed!" He growled angrily as Xara plucked Max's fighting branch from the ground beside him. She held it sturdy as he rushed her, eyes glowing crimson and body charged with some sort of unnatural energy that sent Xara's mind reeling with fear and adrenalin. It was obvious, even though Xara didn't have time to think much of it at the time, that this man was out of control.
Xara waited with calculating eyes, her muscles coiled with snake like preparation as the red-eyed man threw his claws at her. She used her stick to whack his hand away and heard the man howl in pain. Something came over Xara then; a lust for blood perhaps? A rush of excitement, a realization of empowerment. The man pulled back, holding his arm, giving Xara time to jump to her feet, eyes green, bright and void of emotion. She became suddenly aware of everything except for Max and Theresa. She drunk in the forest smells and the dirt under her feet. The way the shadows fell across the tree trunks and the distant sound of the rushing waters, the leaves shuffled in the evening breeze. Such a beautiful comforting scene, perverted by the one which was unfolding within it.
This was nothing new to her. She shut out her emotions, her unforgiving imagination; what of the man had family? What if he was escaping to see his loved ones? Did he have children? A wife, a sister or brother, or parents who would miss him, who would mourn and weep for his death? A death that she would cause? If she were going to kill him, and take all that away from him, at least she could make sure he did not feel anything.
The man snarled and Xara snarled back, raised her weapon and brought it down hard on his knee, breaking it and sending him to the ground. But Xara had already linked to him and he felt nothing except for the alarming absence of pain. He looked up to her and Xara swallowed hard at the emotion that flooded into her link. But there was also a respectful acceptance. He knew she was only doing what she had to to protect her family. He didn't want to die, and he would have tried to convince her not to kill him had she hesitated, but in that short glorious moment, the deal had been dealt. She kept her eyes on his as she bent, took his head in both hands, and with one precise, fluid, swift movement she bent it with a sharp and sickening snap.
He went limp in her arms and she held him in the short while it took for him to die, and only when he was totally gone did she lay him gently down on the soil.
The entire ordeal had taken less than a minute, though it felt as if it had been an entire hour. Xara sat and stared down at the dead body, her very own shaking a little as her adrenalin faded.
"Xara, no..."
Xara whipped her head over to Max's direction. Her face was expressionless, as if to say 'too bad its already done and there is nothing anyone can do about it'. A part of her was truly thinking that. But she hadn't truly wanted to kill anyone, and there were no doubts that she would have a very hard time coping. That Max had seemed so horrified shook Xara deeply and made her realize the gravity of what she had just done. Her eyes softened and pleaded her mate to forgive her. She would need him so badly in the coming months. How could she begin to think of living without him? Xara hugged herself for comfort and felt as if everyone were staring at her, as if she were some... alien.
Xara turned her eyes back to the man. He lay there with his eyes gazing dumbly at the tree trunk. It wasn't right. He deserved a proper, respectful burial. Xara slowly lowered her head and muttered something in her native language, then bent forward and with her hard nails pointed, went for his eyes.
"Xara don't you dare touch him!"
Xara's head snapped up to a scared and furious looking Maria. She looked disgusted with Xara, as Xara had expected. Xara lowered her head submissively.
"Maria you do not understand. If I do not do this he will not have died honorably. It is a show of respect in my world, and I cannot let him die like this--" Xara trailed off as emotion caught up with her, and took a moment to compose herself.
Her people believed that people's souls resided in their eyes, much like some Earthen communities did. If they died a peaceful death their eyes will be closed and therefore it was understood that their souls had left for peace on their own accord. If not, then it is the duty of the one who killed them to help their souls to peace.
Xara looked from Maria to Daniel. Don had better things to worry about with Theresa going into labor. Xara so wanted to help her sister, but she knew there was no chance she would be allowed to. Not now anyway.
"Please." she whispered, stricken by their reaction "I had no other choice. I never like killing anyone. I have to do all I can to assure they died a proper death."
Maria looked as if she were about to say something but Theresa began howling in pain. She narrowed her eyes at Xara and shook her head, then jogged to Theresa and dropped to her knees beside her daughter, taking her hand and coaching her through the birth.
Xara turned to look up to Daniel, who looked back down at Xara as if trying to figure out who she was exactly, and how he was supposed to feel about the entire thing. He looked down at Max and then Theresa; both were okay. What would have happened to them if Xara hadn't killed him?
Daniel nodded. "Do it."
Xara didn't smile but gratitude washed her pale face red. She plucked out his eyes and Daniel turned his back as Xara popped them into her mouth and swallowed them, uttering a prayer before and after each.
Her ears twitched as Theresa made more noise, and Maria and Don encouraged her to keep going. Xara watched with dull happiness and a sense of accomplishment; at least Theresa and the baby were safe. And now? Now Xara was to be an aunt.
Aunt Xara.
Aunt Xara-- the murderer.
Would she ever be trusted again? Xara's eyes stung and she turned them to Max, crawling towards him. She linked to him to make sure he wasn't seriously injured, gently giving him a pat down to check for broken bones. A scratch he had received from the man was beginning to fester and become infected so she dealt with that, but the rest would heal better if she let his body do it on its own. She numbed the pain for him, naturally, and took his hand gently in hers, leaning forward to kiss him gently on the forehead.
She was sorry. But she didn't say it out loud; she didn't think it would change anything anyway.
Xara took her coat off and draped it over Max, thinking he may be in shock, and turned to Daniel.
"We should get him away from here," she said to him, gesturing to the dead body, "So... so Theresa doesn't get stressed out."
So she and Daniel buried the man in silence. Xara knelt down at the grave and sat there with her head hung low, almost touching her knees, her arms crossed over her stomach. Holding the precious thing that grew inside it.
Daniel sighed silently, and knelt next to her, placing his hands on her arms to convince her to rise. Xara squeezed her eyes tight and waited for her tears to recede before she rose and walked back to the family. Daniel hugged her by squeezing her gently, but Xara merely stood with her head hung low as he left her to help Don, Maria and Theresa.
What had she done?
Xara did not feel so good. On her world she would have been hailed and showered with thanks and gifts. But what Max's family thought of her meant more to her than anything else now, and she was terrified that she would be cast away. She walked to sit beside Max and watched and waited, ready to act if they needed her help. She linked to Theresa gently to keep tabs on how she was faring. At the slightest hint of a complication, Xara would be there.
As it was, she sat next to Max, staring at the place where the other man had died, trying to prepare herself for whatever it was Max had to say to her.
((OOC: Hope this was okay. I thought perhaps Daniel would feel for Xara despite the fact she had killed someone. Kind of like 'how would I feel if I had been put in that position', sort of way. I thought Maria might be more upset about it, but had her go to help Theresa and Don like you had said. I also wasn't sure if Max had passed out or not? Xara put her coat over him anyway. Figured he might have gone into shock from being injured and all that fun stuff. Hope this clears up some things about Xara and her views on killing people. ))
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Post by Milo Ventimiglia on Mar 9, 2011 7:00:32 GMT -5
Everything was a blur. I lay on the ground, my blood running in little rivulets from my face and neck over the small patch of ground that I could see. More blood dribbled from my mouth. Occasionally, I summoned up the strength to cough more of it up, otherwise it threatened to enter my lungs. I felt like a gutted fish, waiting to die, my pain numbed by shock but still there at the edge of my consciousness. Barely clinging to wakefulness, I couldn’t tell the extent of my injuries, but I also couldn’t imagine where all of this blood had come from. Was there really that much inside a person?
Time seemed to go slowly. I watched Xara deliver a killing blow to the man who had rendered me useless. I wanted to stop her, but the clock ticked slower and slower, and I could hear my heart beat thundering in my ears, pumping more blood out of me. My blood, the demon man’s blood, Xara’s blazing eyes, Theresa’s screams – a horror movie I couldn’t quite connect to properly. Fatigue won a battle I was barely fighting. I succumbed to the darkness willingly, closing my eyes and fading away from the terrible scent of death, mingling with the overwhelming scent of new life, of an oncoming birth.
“Max...wake up.”
My eyes opened. Mom’s face hovered above me, her brows knit in concern, her golden eyes catching my gaze and holding it. I blinked, confused, imbued with the innocence and naivety of one who had just woken from a deep sleep. Unaware for the briefest of moments of what had passed before I had fallen asleep. “You’re okay,” mom soothed. She placed her hand on my forehead, sweeping my unruly hair out of my face. “...mom?” “Shhhhh.” A baby cried somewhere. I frowned in confusion. I was at home on the long couch in the TV room; I could smell the fireplace, mom’s incenses and the herb garden. Why was there a baby in the house?
I tried to move, then regretted it. As soon as the pain hit me, the night’s events came slamming back. I felt cold suddenly, very cold. Xara had killed somebody. “You can’t move. We bandaged you up, Max, you’re already healing and the minor scratches have closed over. But your body is dragging every excess bit of energy from within to heal some pretty bad wounds. You’re going to need a lot of rest. Even if the wound looks healed, it’s still going to be knitting together internally.” She seemed stressed, and she was sweating. “Mom what...what happened? Theresa...?” There was a bit of a pause before I said, “Xara?”
Mom’s lips pursed very slightly. I could read her very well, even though her face lightened a second later. “You’re an uncle,” mom whispered. Her face suddenly split with a smile. “Theresa is resting in Don’s old room. She gave birth to a beautiful little girl. They named her Lily.” I smiled, a bit overwhelmed by the events, but also very happy for my brother, Theresa and my parents. A birth was a big thing for a pack oriented species such as us. “Lily, that’s a beautiful name,” I said weakly. “She has quite the vocals. And she was born with a tail,” mom beamed. She might not have voiced it for fear of offending Theresa and Don, but a tail was a big thing – Theresa didn’t have one in her human form. She could partially shift one, but it was difficult for her to retain animal characteristics without her entire body reverting to that of a panther.
She told me a little about the baby and the birth. It had been an easy labour, though judging by the fact it was quite light outside, it must have taken hours. Despite her trauma, Theresa was doing well, and Don was with her right now. I could imagine my brother’s face as he bounced his newborn baby up and down, eyes glowing with joy. Don would make a perfect father. “Dad is talking to Xara,” mom said finally, her thoughts moving to Xara at exactly the same time as mine did. “Mom I...did...” She sighed, looking down and then taking my hand between hers. She began to talk, and I let her; it hurt to speak, and my voice sounded funny due to the wound in my neck. “Xara killed him, Max. I...I’ve been thinking about it all night. It was the right thing to do. She was protecting us and I owe her more than the short thank you I gave her earlier.” Did she look a tiny bit ashamed? “But you know how I feel about the death penalty, about death in general. I’m trying my hardest to accept it and to fully understand it. We hunt to eat. And I suppose...I suppose we would kill in defence. Mactíre had a lot of blood on his hands. Your grandfather was a warrior. He lived by the warrior’s code, and he killed in honour. But I never really understand what honour there was in death. Your father reminds me so much of Mactíre. Oh, Don may resemble Mactíre more so, but Daniel is every bit Mactíre’s son in other ways. That honourable, sweet man, who would kill without hesitation. Would I hesitate?”
It seemed to me that now mom was blaming herself. I had to keep reminding myself that my parents still had their own moral and personal conflicts, and that they weren’t just two fully mentally developed people. Who knew themselves at their age? Xara was a century old, and she had many fragilities that made me think of someone much, much younger. But did anyone really settle on a ‘right way to be’? Life threw so many different things at each individual that I didn’t feel as though a person could grow into themselves and stay that way, that everybody kept changing through life. I suppose most children feel as though their parents are invincible until they grow older and their parents seem more like real people, not just parental figures or people who knew the answer to everything. I was no exception. Mom was confused. She had been confronted with something which prickled her inner morals, those same morals I had been bought up with. I knew in my heart that I would struggle to end someone’s life. I had been the slowest to learn to hunt. I was at peace with the fact that we only ate meat which we hunted, now. We were a part of nature.
But so was Xara, and so was protecting pack.
So where did that leave us? Had Xara really done something atrocious or was she just showing a mentality that many of our kind would also understand? Our kind, generally benign and protective, could take our innate loyalty to each other and to the faeries we were employed to guard to a level where killing was certainly an option. I wasn’t sure killing was in me, or my mom. Or Don, for that matter. Theresa agreed with the death penalty, so I figured she would get over what Xara had done very quickly, and would be eternally grateful. My father didn’t fully agree with any death penalty, but he didn’t disagree, either. While movements in Canada were putting pressure on the government to eradicate the death penalty and work out some way to drain dangerous criminals and those with uncontrollable powers of their abilities, execution was still a done thing. There hadn’t been as much pressure in America when we had lived there just a few years ago, but even there, pressure was mounting, as well as in other developed nations. Anyway, I’m kind of digressing a bit while staying somewhat on topic. What I mean to say is, what Xara had done did not defy common sense. She had put him down. She had done what Mactíre and perhaps what my father and Theresa would have done. I came to the conclusion that while it would take time, I could forgive Xara. But then I realised that she hadn’t done anything wrong to me, so I had no right to give forgiveness for something which wasn’t technically a crime against my family or against the government. Had he been someone’s slave still, yes, it would have been a crime. But he wasn’t. He was a nameless lunatic and Xara had saved my life and Theresa’s. Now Theresa had been able to give birth to a little baby.
Of course, I didn’t come to these conclusions so bloody quickly. It took me some time. And while I lay there on the couch next to mom, I mostly just figured that I wouldn’t broach the subject for a while, because I had to think about it.
Daniel MacRurach
Whew, what a night, Daniel thought as he exited Theresa and Don’s room. His protective instincts were heightened and all senses alert, a result of the birth of his new granddaughter Lily. He smiled slightly as he caught a whiff of the scent of newborn baby, which still clung to his arms and chest. He recalled the healthy cries, the tiny, tiny fingers, and the thinly furred, tiny tail which had curled partially around his arm. A strong, healthy baby. Half panther, half thunder-beast, she would grow to be a sturdy creature with a rich heritage. Time would only tell what her second form would be.
Then there was Xara to consider. With Max still asleep and Maria now endlessly by his side on guard, Daniel knew where he ought to be. Theresa and Don would want to spend more time with their new child, and Max was in safe hands under the watchful gaze of his mother. “How is he doing?” Daniel asked briefly as he walked into the living room, on his way to the front garden where he was sure Xara would be. Maria looked up, her face slightly drawn. “He’s breathing evenly, so he must be sleeping normally,” she said, smiling tiredly. “I’m just glad he was in this shape and not his other, or he would have been harder to bandage and stitch up. This way, he can stay in this form and heal, rather than shifting back and ruining my first aid.” Daniel noted his wife’s fatigue and worry. Her chatter was a good indication that she was agitated, and he bent down to give her a quick kiss. A knowing look passed between them as he straightened up.
“I will speak to Xara,” he said. “Yes...yes.” Maria nodded. “She needs to know that...well that we don’t condemn her. After the way I spoke to her before, there in the woods, and then...just my quietness until she left. I was hasty and rude. She saved our son’s life, our daughter’s life and our granddaughter’s as well. I don’t want to lose her.” Her gaze softened as she looked back at Max and stroked his hair. “Max can’t afford to lose her.” Daniel ran a gentle hand through his wife’s hair, then squeezed her shoulder gently. “I will do my best. It’s ... very hard to remember that she is older than us both put together. But still she seems as though she needs some advice. And she is a daughter to us.”
Daniel walked through the main hallway, his large tail twitching in anticipation. How should he approach this? Xara, he knew, felt terrible. If anything, it was possibly because of the way everybody had reacted, alienating her even more. He thought about the man they had buried. It had been a respectful way to give his body back to the earth, rather than leaving him to the scavengers and letting his remains rot. It was a cultural sensitivity that Xara had noted, even if it wasn’t the man’s culture.
He opened the door and found Xara sitting outside. She seemed to be absorbing the nature around her, but he noticed that she hadn’t strayed very far from the house. Would she want to, after what had happened? Striding through the grass quietly for a man of his size, Daniel stopped and took a seat next to Xara. He didn’t speak at first, merely looking out over the long driveway and sweeping grass. “He was perhaps better off,” he said finally. “But that is not the point.” Daniel turned his head to regard the woman whom he considered to be his daughter, despite the fact she and Max weren’t married, and also despite the fact that Xara was far older than he was. “I would have done the same thing, as would my father. As would Theresa.” He was aware that she might feel upset that Max’s name wasn’t mentioned, so he hastened to explain. “My two sons and my wife are less the warrior type. Maria may seem like a sharp, strong woman, and she is. But ask her to kill and she will hesitate. That is not to say that she, or our sons, would not kill if they had to protect someone, the way you did. They do not know that. I know from personal experience.”
Daniel considered his next words. Did he want to bring this up?
“As you likely know, we migrated to America from Scotland when Max and Don were children, and lived there before we came here to Canada.” He chuckled slightly, though he didn’t feel humorous. “You might hear the Scottish in their accents and the way that they talk, sometimes.” His face sobered. “What you may or may not know is the reason that we moved to America. In those days, we lived on a farm. You see, our kind always thrive near nature, and Maria was bought up on a farm in Sicily. She knew how to farm the land. Neither of us were bought up in the fey lands; my father, Mactíre MacRurach, wanted us to grow up in the human lands. He convinced his wife to go with him. Mactíre was one of the Princes of our kind. He was also something of a rebel; he fell in love with the human lands, despite the way humans treated people like us. The fey have always held a fascination with humans. So I was born in Scotland but in the human world. My wife’s parents lived in the fey lands of Italy. They left shortly after a war involving Seelie-kind, which I won’t get into. Hmm, Daniel, are you getting to the point?”
He chuckled slightly again and wished he had a cigar, though he would never smoke in front of a pregnant woman. “I met Max’s mother in Sicily. My father took me on many travels with him. He was absent a lot of the time, so my mother did most of the raising. But when he came back, we travelled, oh, we went around the world! Something you should understand about Mactíre is that he is a good thousand years old. His father, the King, still resides in the fey lands, but I have never met my grandfather. Anyway. I took to travelling on my own, and I met Maria. We married a year later and had children a year after we moved to a small farm in Scotland. Now, Maria’s parents had a significant amount of human money; that comes into importance later. We bought the children up as best we could. Mactíre visited, but disappeared and has not been seen since. But when our kids were still wee bairns, our cosy little life was disrupted. And with Mactíre gone, we had no idea how to escape into the faerie lands. You see, had we been able to go back to the land of our ancestors, we could have escaped all of this.” Daniel touched his collar bitterly, then cleared his throat. “Anyway, moving on. Max and Don would have made terrible princes anyway; they’re far too disinterested in politics, and me, well, I’m not a big fan of royal bull shite. Excuse my language. Both looked horrified when I told them they were royalty. So. Where is this going? Well, we were found out. You see, the god-fearing citizens of some Scottish town nearby stuck their noses in our business, the bloody mongrels. Our entire town were ‘paranormals’ if you like. We were ‘hidden’. But they came, those bastards, torches and pitchforks. And plenty of guns. It’s fresh in my mind even after 19 years. A huge fight broke out. I was working in the fields at the time, and by the time I got back, the village was burning, people were dead...bodies...everywhere...people I knew, villagers...”
His eyes narrowed, and his fists clenched slightly. Daniel was evidently distressed by the memory, but still he continued. “They found my wife, and my children. Maria is formidable on her own; she could have killed them, but she wouldn’t, not in front of Don n’ Max. She told me later that she was trying to think of a way to disable them without them discovering her powers, but I got there first. What did I see as soon as I got there? A beast with a gun aimed at my wife’s head, my two sons crouching under the table, clutching at each other. I guess Maria knew what I was gonna do, because she took the kids away. And I killed him. Snapped his neck, like that. Tossed his body aside, and set the other man on fire. I had a lot of energy; the village was blazin’ around us, so I stole as much energy as I could, and I unleashed it on the murdering bastard.”
Looking at Xara again, he pressed his lips together ruefully. “I didn’t think. I killed them. And by God, I don’t regret it. It haunts me. It was the first and last time I had killed. But I know it’s in me, and I know that if I hadn’t, then they might have followed us, given information. Killing them meant we could escape in the roaring smoke. Maria’s parents had left her with a lot of money just the year before, and we used it to get us to America. Without the sanctuary that our ancestral land could offer us...the fey lands, that is...we chose the first place we thought we could gain anonymity, and that was North America. And here we are still. Given, in a different country now, and wearing these ghastly collars, but we’re alive, we’re together. And Max...Max never would have met you if we had gone to Mactíre’s home. I guess if you have to get anything out of my long spiel, it’s that Maria and I...we want you in our son’s life. And in ours. I want you to come inside and hold your niece. Maria wants you to know that she is grateful, so grateful. She was a little spooked, but you have to understand that she saw her son covered in blood and her daughter covered in muck and going into labour...what a shock that must have been for her! And I guess I just wanted you to know that I of all people understand, and I know that Max will too. Just give him time. Mactíre lived by a warrior’s code, he had your honour. He, too, would have understood. I just wish that he had been here when I had needed him most.”
Daniel stood up and stretched a hand out, his eyes inviting her to come back inside. “Theresa wants you to hold Lily and let her get your scent.”
((OOC: Sorry about the long history lesson, I felt he would try to give it all context, and Daniel strikes me as someone to talk a lot, like his family haha. Besides, telling her that must have taken quite some time, enough time for Max to wake and talk to Maria as he did above there. Hmmmm hope you don’t mind the huge godmode at the end – I can change it if you want, since I don’t know where she would have gone. We can always pretend he found her meditating or doing something else, or elsewhere in general, but he’d say the same stuff anyway. Wasn’t sure where she would be. I may have made an error – I think I hinted that Mactíre was Maria’s dad. He wasn’t; he was Daniel’s Irish/Scottish father. His mother was Scottish with a touch of English, I think I had written, but I can’t recall. Mactíre is also Milo’s mother’s father. Making him and Max cousins...and Don/Jackie as well. So maybe I got them mixed up, since Milo’s dad is Sicilian, not his mother, though Max’s parents are the other way around.))
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Post by tessa on Mar 13, 2011 19:30:15 GMT -5
She couldn’t forget Max. She could never forget when he called her name, and would never forget the look on his face as he realized what she had done.
Xara’s frame shuddered and she struggled to control her breathing. From the moment she had time to think about what had just happened, she chided herself viciously for not telling him in person sooner about what she had done in the past-- what she was famous for on her world; war. For him to find out like this must have been horrifying, Xara was sure. She remembered how sick he had felt when he had merely entertained the idea of killing someone, but this? This was the real thing. Xara's hair blew around her face as she sat in the lawn and tickled her nose, stuck to her dry lips, but she ignored it expertly. How odd had it looked, her killing like that after having been beaten to the ground before herself? Why this man and no others? People like her master, the people who had objectified and terrorized her in the streets... why not them? Xara's face darkened and she squinted her eyes shut. She asked herself many times before even before she had met Max, and shame was the only answer she could come up with; shame of herself and her position. She hadn’t felt as if she were worth even her own protection, which was the product of the kind of mental abuses she now realized she had been subjected to. But Max, Theresa, and her new baby Lily, were worth every strike and blow and of that Xara was dead certain. It was possibly the only thing she had ever been certain about in her long years.
Xara had watched as Theresa gave birth, terrified, riveted and poised to help at the slightest call for it. Luckily her powers were not needed and she was more than very relieved when the birth went smoothly and without further interruption. She gently clutched her heart in her hand as the baby met its parents and world for the very first time admiring the small squirming flesh ball as it screamed into the air. It was just so beautiful, so helpless and so precious; she had almost forgotten that someone had been killed at the same moment Lily was being born. She kept a hand on her own stomach for a long while, thinking about her own baby; Max’s son or daughter. She was beginning to think she could feel it move even though the logical part of her mind told her that that kind of experience would not present itself until much later. Even still she knew it was there and it was alive and knew that it was hers to love and protect, and she was going to protect it and Max using whatever means she had to. With Theresa and the baby taken care of, Xara tended to Max. She held his hand in hers and cradled it the whole way back to the home, nearly in tears at the sight of him injured like he was. How could she have let this happen to him? Had she failed as a mate? She did not speak to him but linked to him and her thoughts, her hopes and prayers for him to survive (even though she knew he was going to be just fine) seeped through their link and would have engulfed his thoughts as much as they did hers. Finally she decided to break the link, because she knew she was emotionally compromised and did not want to hurt him accidentally through her link. Maria was good for calming her nerves, however, and assuring her he would be okay. Xara insisted that Maria let her help as much as she could, getting Max settled around, helping to bind his wounds and sitting with him as Maria went off to greet her new grandchild.
Xara continued to clutch Max’s hand and sat with her forehead rested on the couch cushion, breathing as slowly as she could manage when Daniel and Maria were away. She spoke gently to him, stroking his hair with her hand. He would still love me, she fretted, right? But the look on his face when she--no. Xara shook her head, you mustn't think like that Xara he loves you. Trust him.
When Maria came back to tend to Max, Xara hastily excused herself and walked towards the garden, her steps becoming a brisk jog. She paced the garden for a moment with her head in her hands, breathing as deeply as she could.
Death was not something she enjoyed inflicting on people, not in the least. Not even when she was home and it was such an ingrained part of her society did it feel in anyway like a natural pass time. It was not as if she could change any of that now, she told herself as she walked up and down the gardens grass. She could have tried to compromise, like Max had, but she was sure the man would have killed her, Max and Theresa. She could have knocked him out, but he would still be a threat to the family if she had left him to recuperate without seeking a collar for him, which would be a lengthy process of taking him to town and getting him a collar. Where would she keep him until then? With the baby on the property Xara feared the man would never leave them alone. The worst part of it was she knew it wasn't entirely his fault. When she linked to him she knew, instantly, that he didn't want to hurt anyone and taking his life from him had all but killed her.
She had slowed to a near stop but then paced again, her tail bouncing behind her and twitching slightly with pent up anxiety. Was there nothing she could have done? The man was a threat to Theresa and the baby; he had already taken Max down and was searching for blood. Don was preoccupied with Theresa as he should have been, and would not Maria and Daniel have arrived a split second too late? She did not know. She just did not know.
The woman sat down finally, legs crossed on the grassy patch, meditating to keep her powers in check. She could feel them pressing against the edges of her consciousness. She could feel the little girl in her raging to be let in charge, who reflected her insecurity, her anxiety and fear. Her desperate longing to be held and rocked and told it would all be okay. She sat in silence and calmed her nerves under deep breathing and concentrated, conscious efforts to clear her mind of all of those troubling thoughts. “Xara?”
Xara’s ears twitched at Daniel’s summons and she sat up straight and looked up at him as he sat next to her. “Hello.” She said quietly, dreading what he was about to do, or say. On her world if she did not do what her leaders wanted her to do then she would have suffered dire—dire—consequences. But that was a stupid fear and again Xara chided herself. She did not believe for one second Daniel or Maria would hurt her like that even if she had made a mistake such as the one she had just made. She relaxed with an outward breath and took comfort in Daniels presence. Max's father had a nice energy to him that so reminded her of her own grandmother's. That and the scent of the baby still on him made her smile inwardly.
When he began speaking her happiness faded, however, as it did not sound too promising to begin with.
Her lips pursed and she avoided his gaze, fiddling with a blade of grass which was so soft, so crisp and alive. She relished in the feel of it on her aching hand, then plucked it out from the ground-- dead now, though even in death it looked inviting and cool and so full of promise. She examined it for a moment and then flicked it off to the side, turning her eyes back to Daniel. His tone was a lot nicer than she had expected, understanding even and his confession about having done the same thing before himself washed away her fears of their scrutiny and she visibly relaxed.
She could see the village he was describing clearly in her head. The screaming burning bodies, the terror and panic; confusion mixed with the sensual thrill of those attackers who lusted so cruelly for blood. Oh, yes she knew exactly what Daniel had seen, what he had done and why. She had been on both sides of the battle field many, many times before now, however her eyes glazed over her pain as she listened. Never before had she been so moved to cry over what she had done than when Daniel spoke of it. Her people did not speak of killing or death. They spoke of the glory of battle not the hell of it, because they knew that if they spoke of their fear or their regret their jobs would be that much more difficult. Rapt in his tale, Xara’s eyes fluttered between Daniel and the home, resting in his gaze and then down at her own hands.
“...I guess if you have to get anything out of my long spiel, it’s that Maria and I...we want you in our son’s life. And in ours.” He said, prompting a watery smile from her, forcing her to wipe a tear from her eye. She nodded vigorously.
“ I understand. I was shocked. Scared...” she shook her head, “All I could see was Max lying there, wounded and that man with his nails, covered in his blood, hunting Theresa and how scared she was.” Xara lifted her eyes to Daniel, and took his hand, standing with his help, to her feet. She brushed off her knees and rear, thinking of what to say next.
“I... love Max.” She said, making Daniel stop. Xara looked up at him, trying hard to ask her question. Daniel already knew. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“And he loves you. He will be okay. He does not like violence either, but sometimes, like I’ve said, it’s necessary.” Daniel explained, hugging Xara. “Now come on, let’s go inside. It is getting bit chilly out. Can’t be letting you catch a cold can we?” He said with a smile as he led her back into the house.
Daniel left Xara in the living room with Maria and Max, walking into the kitchen and rummaging through the fridge for a beer or snack. He and his mate shared a glance, and Maria stood to greet Xara. She hugged the woman tightly.
“Thank you, Xara. Thank you.” Xara shook her head, squeezing the woman gently. “I love them, and you and Daniel.” Xara said, “I would never let you be killed...”
Maria pulled back and cupped Xara’s face in her hands. “I love you too. Max is fine,” she said, catching Xara’s glance at her sleeping mate. A baby cried upstairs, and the two women grinned at each other. “Go.” She said, patting Xara’s shoulder and shooing her upstairs. Xara climbed the steps slowly, walking gently towards the door, creaking it open to See Theresa holding the baby, smiling up at Don who doted over his first born child. Xara stood respectfully in the doorframe.
“Xara.”Theresa said, and Don stood immediately to greet her, hugging her very tightly. Xara gasped as he squeezed the breath out of her, and Theresa scowled. “Come on Don you’re crushing her, let go.” She scolded, giggling.
“Sorry, sorry...” Don said, smiling with a dopy look in his eyes. “Come on, Xara I want you to meet our daughter, Lily.”
He practically dragged her to the bedside and plunked her down on the chair he was once sitting in. He lifted the baby from Theresa, who smiled at Xara warmly, and handed it to her. Xara held it very, very gently. It squirmed in her arms and Xara’s protective instincts shot upwards. It smelled so young, so vulnerable. It was so innocent. What would it grow into? A strong young woman no doubt! The little baby began crying and squirming more. Xara rocked her gently.
“Shh.” She cooed, “Enough of that. Is that any way to treat your aunt Xara?” Xara asked her with a grin as the baby gurgled and curled its tail around Xara’s wrist. Xara looked up at Don and Theresa.
“There is,” she said sheepishly, “A custom on my world, to... I guess you would say... bless the child. But it is not quite like a blessing. Similar.” She said, blushing. “I would like to...if I can...”
Don looked to Theresa, who nodded. They watched her carefully as Xara smiled and stood, pacing the room. Xara smiled and nodded and sang to the baby in her native tongue. The infant gurgled and her tail wagged with the song and soon the melody mellowed, and the baby snoozed in Xara’s arms. Xara smiled and kissed the girls forehead. She gave the baby back to Theresa, chatted for a few moments, and then left them be with themselves as a family for the first time. She turned and closed the door silently, then willed her muscles to move her weight down the stairs. It was not so hard when she heard Max's voice.
“Max!” She said, running down the stairs and kneeling beside him. Maria heard her and watched her run down the stairs, then stood, kissing Max’s forehead, and patted Xara’s again affectionately as she left to be with her own mate.
Xara's eyes were wide with earnest and apology, her voice was thin and exhausted, laced with despair and joy.
“How... are you? Are you well? Are you in any pain?” she asked, looking him over for wounds. Her heart thrummed wildly, nervous of what he would say to her. “I am so glad you are okay!”
((OOC: okay finally posted. So sorry it took so long I hope its okay! DX))
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Post by Milo Ventimiglia on Mar 17, 2011 8:17:58 GMT -5
Mom and I talked a little more before she had to get up to put a meal on. She kissed my forehead and smiled, then left me with my own thoughts. I shifted about a little to get more comfortable. I was lying on my back because of the wounds on my chest, though I would have preferred to have slept on my side as I usually did. My wounds were beginning to throb now and my tailbone and the top part of my tail ached. I had crashed into the ground at some stage during the fight right on my tailbone, and now my tail lay almost lifeless, the edge twitching occasionally under the blankets. There were no broken bones, but I wanted to move it and stretch it and was of course thwarted by pain. It was nothing short of frustrating. Maybe a few minutes passed between my mom leaving and my resolve to move, but it seemed like longer. Sweat beaded down my forehead as I began to try to sit up. I winced, and mom came back just as I had half turned onto my side.
“Max!” mom scolded. “What the hell are you doing? Did I not make myself clear about you resting? You’re a fast healer, but you’re not invincible! Stupid boy!” I closed my eyes, gritting my teeth in pain, my heart racing from the exertion. I heard her close the distance between the kitchen door and me, her feet carrying her at a striding pace. “My back is stiff,” I complained. She pulled the blanket gently off me just as I opened my eyes. I looked down at myself in despair. Bandages covered my chest, a pinkish tinge telling me that I had bled almost through them at some point. It was otherwise a neatly done job; my mom did have very steady hands. “Your back?” mom queried. “My tail, it’s stiff. It’s hard to move it, but I don’t think it’s broken.” I managed to move it, my face screwing up as pain shot up my spine. “I just landed hard on my tailbone.”
Mom gently took hold of my tail and stretched it. We determined that it wasn’t broken. She gave me a very annoyed look, making sure that I resumed my original position before tucking the blanket around my chin as though I was a kid again. “I’ll have to change those bandages again later. Get some sleep, Max. Xara is still with Daniel.” “Yeah, alright, alright,” I grouched, not believing for a second that I would be able to sleep. I was wrong; the energy I had spent trying to be a smartass, hard headed idiot just now had depleted. I closed my eyes, slipping into a doze very quickly.
I mustn’t have been sleeping for very long, but then again, I couldn’t really tell; I had had a dream, so I must have slept for at least half an hour. The last vestiges of the dream faded away as I found my way back to full wakefulness. Shades of it lingered: mom carrying lasagne to me, the meat disgustingly raw; Xara, whispering soothing words to me and stroking my hair; Don and Theresa and their new baby Lily, who, in a moment of surrealism common to my usual dreams, looked at me and said, “Max will be fine, he’s a fast healer.” It was a slightly boring dream, I guess, a collection of events which had happened since I had woken up and voices which I could probably hear in my sleep. Mom’s voice had come from Lily, so I suspected she had said something to someone about me. I couldn’t be sure; it was disorienting, a sort of fever dream where I was half awake.
“Mom,” I called out, wondering where she was. “Are you making lasagne?” The scent of her pasta wafted towards me. Not even the bloodied, torn meat in my dream could put me off. I was starving; my body needed food, or I wouldn’t heal, just like any living creature. The problem with my species was that I needed a lot of it to fuel my energy needs. Healing fast was costly to the energy bank in my body, but I couldn’t switch it off. I had no idea how to purposely heal slower to conserve energy, though I could bet it was possible. “I am,” she said, coming to sit by me again. I made extra, don’t worry.” “It’s vegetarian, I hope,” I mumbled sleepily. Mom’s eyebrow rose. “Of course it is. We haven’t had a chance to hunt since...last night.” She had the good, motherly sense not to ask me why. She knew I wasn’t big on violence, and that last night might well put me off meat for a while. We only ate meat on rare occasions anyway, since my parents didn’t have much time to hunt and Don and I had even less time.
She stood and stroked my head again, smiling. “Looks like someone is here to see you,” she informed me. I wanted to sit up upon hearing Xara, but mom gave me a stern look before returning to the kitchen.
The first thing that I noted about my mate was that she did not have a comfortable look on her face. It wasn’t all to do with me being injured, either. Her eyes were wide, and I sensed something almost defensive about her...or maybe nervous, withheld, distressed. I had no idea what to say to that. Xara knew that what she had done would upset me. I wasn’t trying to be self-righteous; it was just that killing wasn’t in my moral code and Xara knew that. Would she tread lightly around the issue, or would she be blunt and up front about it? Just as importantly, what was I going to say to her?
To my relief, Xara’s questions were mild and fairly easy to answer. They skirted the issue, flirting with the events but not directly addressing them. “I’m a wee bit sore, but I’m pretty okay,” I said truthfully. “Just some scratches, really. Some are really deep and I could have been killed if you...if you hadn’t been there.”
Okay, so you just dived right in, I thought irritably. God, my mouth just ran sometimes. “But hey, it doesn’t really matter. The tissue has already covered the exposed ribs. I won’t be bedridden for long, not if I have a say in anything.” I sounded more cheerful than I felt, and I took Xara’s hand, needing her closeness and her scent. I decided that I wasn’t ready to jump into the deep end just yet. I didn’t want to open the topic for debate or explanation.
“Lasagne’s nearly ready,” mom said from the kitchen. “Daniel...put the beer down a minute. Go and see if Don and Theresa want to come down to eat. We’ll eat in the lounge room where Max is so that he doesn’t feel excluded.” Her voice sounded terse. Dad had probably dug into the alcohol to take the edge off the boiling emotions last night’s events had probably caused. I would have loved some, but I knew that mom wouldn’t allow it.
I glanced back at Xara. “I...how...how are you?” My eyes searched her, but my nose picked up the demon man’s blood and my blood, not her own. Sure, she had probably taken a shower, but the scent was still there. She wasn’t injured and at the moment that would be my relief. Don’t think about anything. Just don’t think at all, I told myself. I resisted any attempts by Xara to link to me. “I don’t wanna share the pain,” I said, my voice coming out a little hoarse and gruff. I didn’t even think my voice could sound gruff. Hah. I didn’t really want Xara to sense my emotions and analyse them. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it right now, other than grateful for her unwavering loyalty, bravery and quick actions, and also a few conflicting emotions that were too confusing to define.
((OOC: Hmm up to you if she tried to link to him or not. He blocked himself to it regardless of whether she did or not. He doesn’t want her sensing his hesitation strongly. Wasn’t sure about the timeline here. I had started Daniel’s post before Max woke up. Max was awake while Xara was outside with Daniel. But not sure if you got confused and thought that he was still asleep when Xara came inside again. So I had him fall back asleep and had Maria come back out. We did such long posts that it’s hard to remember the timelines sometimes. Shorter post now; wanted Xara’s responses first.))
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Post by tessa on Mar 19, 2011 2:24:08 GMT -5
Xara squeezed his hand tightly. She laced her fingers through his and squeezed around his fingers, her eyes searching him for any hints about his mood, his position on the subject, his own evaluations of her. His family’s opinions were important but damn near moot, even if he was the only one who disapproved of her. She couldn’t control her heartbeat. Nor could she control the way her tail snaked its way up to her midsection and wrapped itself around her. The way her ears twitched or the way the light caught her eyes, which showed how much they ached to loosen and release the welled up tears that she kept caged behind a blank stare. The woman was a mere wreck at the thought of her mate and how he was dealing with this. He seemed different to her. But she reasoned that it was due to his injury, the shock, the excitement, all of those things that could make him the way he was at the moment but a nagging doubt wailed like a siren in the back of her racing thoughts that warned her there was more to this than she dared to entertain. Her voice became quiet but to her, her inner thoughts betrayed themselves in a slight inflection that she hadn’t intended, or a quiver in her tone, or a crack in her voice which she redeemed by clearing her throat, all of which were miniscule in actuality.
...if you hadn’t been there, Max said when he spoke of his wounds, he would have been killed. What if she hadn’t been there, to kill the man? She didn’t want to explore the possibilities. She wanted to go home and resume her happy peaceful life with a happy, peaceful mate and a healthy child of their own to raise and love. Then again she wanted a lot of things. She shook her head modestly,
“It was...” it wasn’t ‘nothing’, so what was it? “It was okay...no need to thank me.” She smiled fleetingly down at him and directed her eyes down to her lap. Her tail tightened around her midsection. She was tense all over, every muscle. She was sore, sick, empowered with pride and bravery, stricken with grief and impeccably miserable yet impossibly elated, all at once. And each emotion had its reason.
Xara was gently pulled back into reality as she caught scent of the smell if the baked lasagne and her mouth watered, despite the fact she was sure she wasn’t hungry. She didn’t notice the scent before. Perhaps she noticed it now because she was subconsciously looking for a distraction. Could she just forget about it and live her life the way it was? No. They would have to talk about it, one way or another, it would be addressed and they both knew that, Xara with a nerve racking knot in the pit of her stomach.
She tried to link with him; bad idea. It left her feeling dejected and abandoned, but she respected his wishes and pulled away. To Xara it was equivalent to him yanking his hand from hers, rolling over with his back facing her and telling her that he wanted her out of his sight. Any normal day she would not have seen it that way, but her emotions were raw in the first place, and Max had just denied her one of the most comforting things he could have done for her.
“Okay.”
She said simply, and gently un-weaved her fingers from his, letting her arm fall to her lap as Maria came in with a plate for both of them. She gave Xara and Max an odd look as Xara accepted the plate and fork, but questions would come later as Don, Theresa and Lily came down with Daniel in their wake. They all took their places and Xara felt in the middle of it all. She felt exposed, as if she were suddenly stark naked, and ate her food, had her pleasant conversations about simple, weightless things. Theresa was the first to go up to the room with Lily attached to her. Don followed protectively, waving good night to his brother and parents. It was an odd dinner, and their collective silence was almost as good as any verbal conversation, and one everyone understood. Soon Maria and Daniel looked at them both, and Xara still nibbled at the delicious food to buy time. They chatted for a while and Maria set Xara up on the couch across from Max, though she ended up on the floor under him. Despite the fact she had her insecurities, the fact that he was still there, his living scent, comforted her.
She went home without Max the next day and cleaned and organized the place for when he came home. It was partially because she knew it would be best for Max to come home to but it also gave her ample time to think and to prepare herself---compose herself. And to do this, she did household chores. They calmed her. She stocked up on food and did the bills and everything he had taught her to do. When he came home finally the house was filled with food, enough for a mini celebration, and Max’s parents left Xara finally alone with her mate. She sat on the couch and stared off into the distance, her face sore from smiling so much. It wasn’t from being forced, but she rubbed her eyes and cheeks no less before yawning and grinning sleepily at Max. “Are you...ready for bed now?” she asked vaguely. “The room is all cleaned up. You could shower first if you want, or we could watch a movie or...something like that. Anything is okay with me at the moment.” She reached over and placed her hand on his knee tenderly, lovingly, almost apologetically. “I tried to make it as comfortable as I could.” She burned to talk to him about what happened. She couldn’t help herself. “Max I want you to understand what I did--- I killed him, yes. I don’t feel bad for what I did-- I do not regret it, but I do wish it did not have to be that way. Killing is NOT something I do for fun. I do not like it at all, I want you to know that.” She said seriously.
((OOC: hope this post was okay I did a bit of a time skip and assumed they would keep Max a bit before letting him go home and Xara would go and tidy it up. ))
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Post by Milo Ventimiglia on Mar 22, 2011 8:28:50 GMT -5
Mom kept me under her watchful eye for the next few days as I healed. Don, Theresa, Lily and even Xara had left, leaving the household much quieter than it had been before. I suppose I should have been grateful, because I physically needed to rest and now I had the opportunity to do so. I didn’t feel so grateful. Now, I had time to think. Mom and dad were never far away, but they had things to do as well. Dad, I noticed over the days, spent more and more time in the forest. “First that wild animal, now this,” he would mutter before leaving each morning. He always came back smelling of wilderness and radiating energy, and I guessed that he had been changing forms and patrolling the entire territory repeatedly. Dad would not rest until it was safe again.
“He’ll settle into a routine, don’t worry,” mom told me one day. “I can tell you this – we will both be patrolling the territory much more often than we have been. I’ll admit that we’ve been complacent. That beast that attacked Xara and that man who...who did this to you...they should never have been allowed to stay as long as they must have.” “Don’t blame yourself,” I said softly. “You have a big territory...anything can happen. We don’t even know the full extent of the species around here. Last week they discovered a whole race of people living at the bottom of Lake Ontario. Before they could subject them to the government, the creatures just vanished. Evacuated their entire town. Amazing, huh?” My digression tactic worked; she smiled, ruffed my hair teasingly and left me alone.
Mom took time off work to look after me. She wasn’t the sort of woman to settle down and knit, so she took to the kitchen instead. Mom cooked as often as she could and sold her baked goods to her neighbours. She sometimes supplied them to local delicatessens, particularly her European specialties. I sometimes wondered why she didn’t become a chef, but she loved to teach, so she remained a teacher, and she even taught a cooking class on the weekends.
Even with my mother close by, I had long periods of time to myself. On the first night, I was restless. I wanted to go home with Xara, and I even dragged myself off the couch. I won’t detail my parents’ reaction; I think that is pretty obvious. I quickly settled into a flat, fatigued state. I spent too much time staring at the television listlessly without comprehending what was actually on the screen. I read some encyclopaedias and learned a lot of new things, such as a music craze called the Bieber Fever had existed several decades ago and that roadrunner birds could absorb sunlight, kind of like me.
My mind was a merciless, constant companion. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the man’s sharp black claws slicing into my stomach, only in my mind’s eye, it went further and smashed my rib cage, slashing at my heart. Theresa always lay to the side by the tree, but whenever I dreamed of the events, she was bleeding heavily from between her legs, and while my dream never confirmed it, I was sure she was miscarrying. She would pant heavily, her eyes bulging, her jaw twisted in a strange way as she gurgled and screamed. I generally worked out that I was dreaming at this stage, but even being lucid did nothing to stop me seeing what happened next. Always, I would turn, and still always, Xara would be standing there snapping the man’s neck. Her mouth would open in a soundless apology. To me, or to the man, I could never be sure.
I hadn’t had such terrible nightmares since I was a little kid, just after we had fled Scotland. Don and I would wake screaming, and we had shared a bed with our parents for months. They didn’t dare get us a psychologist, for fear of our secret being found out. But, like most kids with loving families and a good childhood, we bounced back quickly and we flourished. Most of the nightmares I had generally were what I would call a ‘bad dream’. Tornadoes getting a little too close. Thieves following me home. Sometimes, I had recurring dreams where I would find out that Xara had either gone back to her world without me, or she would denounce me and tell me that she didn’t care for me anymore, that she was bored.
Those dreams were unpleasant, but nothing compared to what I was having now and what I had had as a kid. And it didn’t help that I was very aware of the fact Theresa was suffering nightmares as well and if she was, then how was Xara fairing? Even the dreams from my childhood were coming back to haunt me. My mind began to analyse it again. I could not stop myself from pulling the event apart into tiny pieces and piecing them back together every which way to try to understand what had happened and how to deal with it. I also told myself repeatedly that I should get over it, that worse had happened to other people, and that Xara had been right to do it. My wounds would heal, and Theresa’s baby was healthy. Why was I so mentally screwed over by it? First I grew frustrated with myself, then angry, and my head throbbed constantly.
As the days went by, I improved physically. Dad hunted every day. My parents didn’t hunt very often because it took time to first capture the animal, then butcher it. Fishing was something we did far more often and with more success, since hunting took a hell of a lot of energy and precision. I had always wondered how the hell animals in the wild survived, since hunting success was never a hundred percent for any creature. I suppose if it was, the top predators would quickly run out of food because they would have eaten it all. We occasionally hunted as a pack in animal form and simply ate the animal in the forest as all wild creatures do, but I was too weak to shape-shift or follow and mom wanted to use the meat for her cooking. “You must eat more than that,” dad urged each night. “Here, I saved the liver for you. Eat it, Max.” “...it’s kind of gross when I’m in this form,” I protested. “Why isn’t it cooked?” “I browned the outside.” I wasn’t used to so much red meat. I was vegetarian most of the time, apart from fish whenever I could get it. George and I loved fishing whenever we got a chance.
I picked at the liver and finally ate it, screwing my face up. My taste buds changed slightly when I changed forms. I could still taste human food and could enjoy sugar in my animal form, but meat tasted very different. I preferred it raw in animal form, and a fresh kill was definitely much richer in flavour. “Sorry, I’m ungrateful,” I said guiltily. “Thanks.” I didn’t need to use more words to express my gratitude. Dad could read it all over my face; I really did appreciate it. This much fresh meat and all the food mom had made would hopefully speed up the healing process. It worked; within a few days, my wounds had completely closed up, although they had left nasty scars and were still red, raw, and itchy. They weren’t of course fully healed yet all the way through, and my body had used so much energy that I looked drained and tired most of the time despite all the food. If you consider how a human body works and the amount of energy it takes to heal, then maybe I can explain how our bodies work. We run on a lot more energy than humans do, and we are able to utilise it way more efficiently – faster, and more of it at one time. We can also extract energy from every bit of our food. Nothing goes to waste. Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean we can just heal and move on. To heal as rapidly as we do, we have to eat more and more and our bodies use that energy to heal. It was no wonder that I was so drained, and even though I was physically hungry, my appetite had diminished because I was so stressed. My parents had had to force food on me.
So, all that explained, I was actually thinner than before when I was ready to leave – despite all the extra food. My face was pale and my eyes were a little dull. I looked as though I had been sick for quite some time, but now that my body was almost finished with the repairs, I could start eating to put weight on again. I still had some time to go, and I moved stiffly. My chest was tender, and the scar was pretty awful to look at. The scar would linger and then fade after a few months into nothing, healing completely. If the wound had been inflicted with iron and iron residue left in it, it wouldn’t have healed and would have festered until all of the iron was removed. We weren’t as sensitive to iron as those who had been born and bought up in the fey lands, but we weren’t immune either.
Xara had cleaned the house when I came home, my face unshaven and my hair and tail a complete mess. I scratched at the stubble on my cheek and sighed, knowing that I would have to shave. I was surprisingly not all that hairy for someone whose dad was extremely hair and whose mom was Sicilian, so it wasn’t too bad, but unless I wanted to look even more like a junkie, the stubble had to go. I was very quiet when I arrived. I thanked my parents before they left, hugged and kissed Xara, then sat down on the couch slowly and carefully, having gotten into the habit of being very careful with myself. I guess I had never been so badly injured before and I was pretty tired as well, but I had to admit to myself that I still wasn’t totally okay with what Xara had done. Not that I would admit it. Ever. That was for me to work out. She was trying – really hard – to find that connection that we had had ever since we had met, but I felt as though I had shut everything out a little, even Xara.
Xara’s voice calmed me despite my thoughts. I put a hand over hers, which she had placed gently onto my knee, and smiled tiredly. “No...no showers...I must have had three or four a day when I was at my parents’ house. Just...relaxed me, I guess, the sound of the water more than anything else.” It hadn’t been easy to shower with all the bandages, but I had managed and I had spent more than half an hour in there each time, listening to the radio while I stood under the water in an almost trance-like state. “I’m ready for bed,” I said, but Xara apparently wanted to clear the air. I wondered, admittedly with a little bit of irritation, why she would choose now of all times to talk about it. I realised just how selfish I was being with such thoughts, and I closed my eyes as she spoke, angry with myself. It wasn’t all about me. It was about both of us.
Xara’s words hung in the air. I opened my eyes to look at her, a delayed action. Instead of holding her gaze, I glanced to the side, then scratched my cheek again and tried to grasp for the right words. I knew that I didn’t want to get into an in depth conversation about this. I couldn’t just now. Partly because I was a little at odds with what she had done, and also because I hated myself for being at odds. Why couldn’t I just accept it? She had saved my life. I was being a jerk. “It’s fine, you know I love you,” I assured her, and my words were genuine. My eyes lit up a little for the first time since that night. “What’s important to me is that we are all alive. You did what you had to do. Let’s go to bed...I’ve...I’ve really missed you. I really hated sleeping alone at night, it felt so weird. I either have you beside me, or George on the next bed snoring away like a demon.” The joke made me feel more alive, and I gave her a kiss on the lips, hoping that she would let the subject go for now. Or forever. I knew I could be evasive instead of talking about certain issues, yet willing to discuss others. This one was just too much right now. I needed a break from thinking about it. The tension headaches had gone, but my head still felt a little tight when I thought about it.
The bedroom was indeed clean. Not that we didn’t keep the house hygienically clean. I was a cluttered person, which meant that sometimes, the house looked untidy even though it wasn’t a health hazard. We didn’t leave old food or anything around, something George did a lot when we were doing field work for weeks at a time, which annoyed me. Xara, it seemed, had put all of my clothes away. Last time I had been at home, they had been strewn all over the wooden chest, unfolded and wrinkled. The drying machine did have an iron function, but I had just left them lying around and they hadn’t stayed flat. The bed was made, something else which didn’t happen unless we had just cleaned all the sheets and bedcovers. I was already wearing pyjamas since I had just been lying around for several days. In other words, boxer shorts and a shirt. I usually would have taken off my shirt, but I didn’t want Xara to see the ugly scar. At least the scratches on my face were just thin red lines now. A little hesitantly, because I wasn’t sure whether she would like me doing it, I slowly lowered my hand onto her stomach. I could sense the life in there. It wasn’t anything resembling a baby; even I knew that, but it was alive, and it was part of us. Suddenly, the connection fired up again, and I found myself smiling radiantly. “Let’s just look to the future. Our future is right here.”
((OOC: Poor Max. He’ll get over it. And haha he's clueless about women and pregnancy, that's really obvious!))
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Post by tessa on Mar 24, 2011 2:12:25 GMT -5
The first thing she noticed was how thin Max was. Xara felt it when she placed her hand on his knee, and sensed it when he looked her way, when he moved and spoke. Those wounds had taken a toll on him that was for sure. Xara wasn’t badly wounded. She hadn’t sustained any kind of physical wounds, and the actual act of killing him was only a blip in Xara’s emotional stance. She spent most of her time meditating. She had performed everything cleanly and correctly; the kill, honouring the man by consuming his eyes, and the burial ceremony. Short, yes, barbaric to people who might not be accustomed, but to her it was a beautiful, peaceful ending to such a violent death. The man she killed was far out of her train of thought by this time. No, it was not him. It was Max.
His scent had been everywhere when she got home. She took comfort in it for a little while, sitting on the couch, wrapped up in their blankets and watching the TV. Soon she began to think. Thinking turned to imagining, which turned to worrying, which fermented into panicking. He had seen her kill someone. What did he think of her? Why wouldn’t he link with her? He seemed open to her if only for the fact that he loved her, which she understood as a monumental statement to his commitment to the relationship. On the other hand he seemed unwilling to talk about it. Scared of it. This made Xara scared.
She dreamt a lot those few days before Max came home. She would dream of being home, of the trees whose branches were so knotted above her camp that she could climb and find more huts on the tree tops. She would climb the trees and look out over the forest and see quite clearly a desert beyond that in front, to her sides and behind her. She lived in an oasis. She would stare out at the desolate lands and a surge of pride and superiority would flush through her exposed skin; she lived in an oasis. The X’oli had chosen her people above all others. Yes, she would have once reasoned, they deserved to be in command. But then a hand would come out through the tree tops and snatch her ankle, drag her down, dangle her before her tribe, snap her like a wet towel so her head cracked against the trunk and she would fall to her death and as she did so she looked up and saw a serene, smiling, human face. No one in particular, but just a happy smiling creature with white teeth and that metal scent that humans had. He said, “sorry but that’s just how it is.” And everything would go black.
Soon other characters would appear. She may have been with Daniel, or Maria, who watched from the treetops as the whole thing happened. Theresa was in the crowd holding Lily, who giggled nonsensically as Xara plummeted. But never Max…he was never there. Xara wondered why. Dreams were never a big thing in her culture but if she did dream, Max was always there. Sometimes he was by her side, sometimes he was in another dream sequence, and sometimes her dreams would end with a nameless head turning, only to reveal the comforting grin Max had on him sometimes. After her fight with her master he would save her if she was in trouble. He was always a part of her dreams, though she wondered perhaps if that might be because she linked to him as she slept. It still worried her a bit. She would wake up in the middle of the night, pacing, feeling too confined and yet lost in space in their little apartment, feeling so young and inexperienced while at the same time old enough to be on her deathbed, pacing, pacing, pacing forever pacing until the only thing she could do was stop and stare at the wall and breathe. Then she would clean and sleep, and do it all over again.
When Max came home, she reasoned, things would surely get better.
But he was so thin. When he closed his eyes to her question, it felt as if a burning stone had been dropped into the bottom of her stomach. She swallowed hard and let her eyes wander. What was the point in pretending not to be phased by this? Pretending to be strong when Max had seen her worse than this before? She couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze, afraid of the look he wore, until he spoke again.
Normally those words would have soothed her. “I love you… what’s important to me is that we are all alive...” but no. Xara stared at him for a moment, eyes smouldering. How could he brush it off like that? Was it no big deal? Then why were they so distant? Why had he been so freaked out? What was he trying to do? This was a huge part of who she was, more than she was morally proud of, and she wanted him to at least accept it. But perhaps he needed more time. She seriously considered pursuing the subject but went against everything her instincts told her and held her tongue.
“I love you too.” She said softly. Not that she didn’t mean it-- oh, she meant it. She loved that man with an unconditional passion. That didn’t mean she was always going to be happy with him, or that she wasn’t going to argue with him or ask him difficult, ugly questions he probably didn’t want to be asked, dealing with life and death mostly. Normal things like that.
She kissed him back but pulled away more sharply than she meant to, walking towards the bedroom a step and a half ahead of Max. Her heart raced with impatience to work it out, to talk, to argue, to find honesty and not just…avoidance. She felt as if he were avoiding it and it frustrated her to no ends. He was sick, she told herself, give him time. All this time she was trying to make a connection with him, and now the only way she could imagine it happening was if they talked.
But Max seemed to have a different idea. Xara looked down at his hand on her stomach and her ears flicked as he spoke. “Let’s just look to our future. Our future is right here.”
Xara looked up to him and gave him bland glance, as if to say ‘No Max.’ She moved away, backing up and crawled into bed, pulling the covers over her shoulder and up to her neck. How could the baby be their only future? The baby was not the point, it wasn’t about the baby.
“And what if I wasn’t pregnant?” she asked after a few moments, gazing at the wall. “What if there was no baby. No future.” Would he still think there was a future if there was no baby?
(( OOC: hope its okay. Kind of heavy, this post. ^_^ ))
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Post by Milo Ventimiglia on Mar 25, 2011 5:10:28 GMT -5
I should have realised that Xara was sharper than I had, in that instant, given her credit for. She had an entire century worth of experience under her belt where people reading was concerned. Could she tell that I was avoiding the topic, that I wasn’t as comfortable as I was pretending to be? Of course she probably could. I just hadn’t expected her to actually confront me about it. And she didn’t – not in a direct manner, anyway. But when it came to my innocent, tactless comment about our unborn child, she latched onto the subject and I suspected that she wouldn’t let go any time soon unless she got a responsible and truthful answer from me.
Her question made me think. I kind of worried privately that Xara would read my hesitation to reply very negatively, so I hastened to come up with an explanation, even though my tired brain wasn’t cooperating with me. It disturbed me a little that she had moved away from me, and I was pretty sure that my face betrayed my surprise and hurt. Did she think I was going to hurt her? No, that’s silly. You’ve never raised a hand against her, and you rarely raise your voice to anyone, especially her. Why would she have cause to fear?
Yet I had always been a more insecure person than my confident brother Don, whose likeable personality was on the surface. I was a contrast to that. I could be a bit of a mystery, I had been told, and I usually showed selected parts of myself to the world and hid the rest. Even though I was far more confident than I had been, I still retained a shyness that I hid; a small part of my confidence was still an act. I had always felt as though Don outshone me. It was a silly, petty feeling, though to my credit, it didn’t give me any less cause to love him and to enjoy his company. While I was more academically minded than Don was, he just seemed to have it all: the tall, athletic build, the model-like looks, the charming smile, the extroverted personality, all the ladies’ attentions, and most of all, a hell of a lot of confidence in himself without being a complete jerk. Me, well, I hadn’t been as quick as Don to lose my Scottish accent. I had been teased a lot for my accent and the fact I had been small for my age and pretty sucky at sports.
I guess what that had influenced in my adult life was a need to please people and to show them that I wasn’t inadequate. It meant that I had to mentally force myself at times to not become anxious when I thought somebody disliked me or was angry with me. It sounds as though I was an emotionally fragile person at that age, but I would tell anyone who held that sentiment that I was just like the majority of people trying to live in a world which caters to dominant ideologies which I quite often rejected and still reject. Of course, by the time I wrote this recount of my past with Xara, I was much, much older and wiser, more at peace with myself. Even at twenty-three, I didn’t exactly loathe myself. I understood my flaws and I tried to improve on them. It was just unfortunate that they did affect my first real relationship, which in itself is unavoidable for anyone.
Anyway, how about I get back to the point?
Where Xara was concerned, I was pretty worried that she thought badly with me at that moment. That didn’t and would never sit well with me. In fact, as I gave her a look of barely concealed dismay, I reflected briefly that she had probably felt the same way after she had killed that man. Xara might not have felt guilty for what she did, because in her mind, she had made the right choice. She did care what I thought of her...and that was because she loved me. I felt a sudden wave of empathy for her, and I bit my lip, standing back up and straightening myself. I didn’t approach her, because I didn’t want her to think that I was trying to patronise her by asking her to forget about what I had said and relax with me tonight. If someone had done that to me, I would have been pretty annoyed.
“Xara...” I made myself look at her, even though I wanted to look elsewhere, because that was cowardly and easier. She was staring at the wall anyway. A large photo of George and I standing in front of a monster wedge tornado hung in her direct line of vision. I gave it a brief glance over before looking back at the side of her head. “That’s not true. I hope you realise that.” My voice was thick, because I was close to tears. I had always been a terrible cry baby, which Don had constantly mockingly slaughtered me for in his brotherly manner. I sucked at hiding my emotions. Xara didn’t need a boyfriend and father to her child who cried whenever he was frustrated or upset. I took a deep breath, and this time, my voice thankfully came out firm. If I had believed in God, I would have thanked him or her profusely for making me sound like an adult.
“Baby or no baby, we would have a future. I shouldn’t have said it like that. You are my future, Xara. The baby is our shared future. But we would still have a shared future together, with or without the baby. If that wasn’t the case, I wouldn’t still be in this relationship. We wouldn’t be living together, and I wouldn’t have a photo of you in my wallet and in my car, or on my computer background when I go on field work. George wouldn’t get pissed off at me for talking about you all the time.” I half grinned, then sobered again, taking a cautionary step towards her. I rethought the move and sat on the edge of the bed, keeping my distance. It was up to her to forgive me. “So...please? Talk to me? Do you really think I’m that much of an asshole?” Maybe I shouldn’t have said the last part. I hadn’t meant it as a guilt trip, or maybe I had. I didn’t know, but it had come out. Mostly what I wanted was some honesty, and I was probably being pretty self-righteous at the moment just by asking her that question.
((OOC: It’s ok, heavy is good in this situation. Max is just as flawed as anyone else, and he knows it, but his mouth runs too fast sometimes and he says stupid stuff. He’s probably a bit annoyingly sensitive at times even.))
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Post by tessa on Mar 30, 2011 1:22:09 GMT -5
“No,”
Xara said to wall, her eyes closed for a moment to calm herself. She had been afraid of his reaction; terrified even. Had she been too forward, too blunt maybe? It was a fear that had plagued her every waking and sleeping moment though, and she needed the kind of answer such a forward question provided. She was happy with his answer and her hesitation was spurred on by relief and pleasant surprise.
“No, sweetheart of course I do not. I do not think you are an ass.” She said, using a pet name she only ever used if he was upset and she was trying comfort him, and was a term she’d heard on the television when someone was trying to be extremely kind (she didn’t understand the condescending aspect of the term yet). So why couldn’t she look at him? She continued to stare at the wall and the picture of him and George. Look at how happy he is there, she thought, was she making his life hell? She sighed and pulled the blanket further around her shoulders.
What was going to happen to her when she had her baby? Did Max have the right to leave her whenever he wanted? No, he didn’t, not on her world anyway or as far as she was concerned. But here? Boyfriends who started families and left them were assholes but weren’t forced to stay with their partners. A flawed system in her eyes but who was she to interfere with other world’s customs?
She didn’t believe for one moment that he was going to leave her. She could never imagine him doing something like that, and would think there was something else going on than him being unhappy with her. It would likely have to be something much direr than that, like a life threatening tragedy or some sort of emergency that needed him to go away temporarily, and so she could not imagine him leaving just because their relationship became difficult. She felt like an asshole for even considering it but she couldn’t help herself. She worried all the time now, and was more insecure than ever which was probably, she reasoned to herself, because of the pregnancy.
The woman pushed herself upright by the palms of her hands, letting the blankets fall down from her shoulders and into a bundle around her. She scooted up and rested her arms on her lap, “You are my future, as well, Max. You are everything to me, the only thing on this planet for me and if I were sent here purposefully, you are my reason.” She said, wanting to smile but finding herself unable to manage one under all her other emotions. Her eyes glinted and hinted at it, as they usually were the most expressive of her features. She patted the bed beside her.
“I wanted to know you had not been scared by what I did. I know you do not like violence, but I have been meaning to tell you...I do not kill anymore, with the exception of that man. I—I can explain.” She looked down at her hands and examined her fingers. “My tribe are warriors, much like tribes on Earth. They kill. I kill.” She patted her forehead enthusiastically, “I am Xara d’jrouic. Xara: the leader of the battles. Princess—yes?—my job was to protect my tribe and lead their battles. I led the training, I taught them to kill, and we fought much with the neighbouring tribe. It is bloody and it is not fun,” her gaze darkened,
“I did not like the killing. My mother created battles for no reason, so that we could kill, because she was bored.” Dark thoughts passed the woman’s face again. “Many of us were unhappy with it but she was our tribe’s hy’ushle---the queen. We had to do what she said unless I challenged her for her position, but that was a death battle.” Xara shrugged and looked away from Max, “I killed that man because he was going to kill you and I am loyal to your tribe, not his. And I could not imagine losing you.”
She admitted. “But I must be honest with you... I have killed many people, and I will if I have to again, it is how I was brought up. Please do not be upset with me... it does not make me a terrible person, does it?” She met his gaze levelly this time. Her eyes were calm, assuring, asking the question. Her stomach knotted painfully.
(( OOC: how would you like to transition them to her world? Maybe he takes her for a walk or something to get some tensions out and spend some calming time together? Up to you ^_^ ))
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