[html] | | It was quiet these days, in a way that it had not been in the city of her childhood dreams and nightmares. Company was unusual but potent for its preciousness, and Halifax was like a whole new treasure chest to dive and dig through, while the ocean, always near and thick with salt, fish and siren songs to lure her into its depths. The fire-spit burn on her torso still stung when licked by that cold tongue, but the moderate pain was cleansing and reviving, and a twisted enforcement that she was just as immortal as she had believed herself to be three years prior. She had been in the belly of the beast and a long ways from anyone who might have helped her through, but she had made it just like the rest. And now, with the ash settled, she moved ahead.
Down the street with a saddle bag stuffed with costumes and clothing, the dark little ballerina moved through shadowless, twilight streets. On soft, rhythmic feet and a hum broken by the squeaking handle of a small tin lantern, she was content in her own world, devoid of colours wrapped in a hush, cracked and crumbled by her gravitation back to her dockside home.
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THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOVED
______THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOST
THE THINGS I'VE HELD SACRED
______________THAT I'VE DROPPED
_____ Iskata had been a surprise, but it seemed today was going to be full of those things. He had come to the city with one goal in mind and spent the majority of the past hour looking for a store that could offer him supplies. This city was larger then the one he knew, and it was unfamiliar. Twice he had gotten himself turned around, though now he figured he was on the right track. Of course, this was a guess—Ahren was utterly lost, and hoping to find the store before it became too dark. If the moon was out, he would be all right. In pitch black, though, his blind eye did nothing but hinder him.
_____ Coming to another intersection, Ahren groaned and turned to the stone steps nearby, settling on them. He quickly sparked up a cigarette and propped an elbow on his knee, resting his cheek against the palm. He was again lost…fantastic.
I won't lie no more you can bet
I don't want to learn what I'll need to forget
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[html] | | Duhurr, I am great at quick+short. :|
Like any good animal, Poe's instincts had adapted to her environment. Of course for the quirky fashionista city girl, that meant that she had become very adapted to navigating the stone grid of a city, and entirely unable to hunt a deer. But she had never been great at that to begin with anyway she figured, and her psyche had long ago barred off all possibility of walking on four legs again, so as un-wolf-like as she had become, she had evolved in a direction that suited her well. So she moved with the comfort of her own skin, in her own territory (new and unclaimed as it might be), in the solo state that she had also become better adjusted to. Adjusted, but not exactly happy with it would seem, if one were to gauge on her reaction to the trickled scent of cigarette smoke and deep-rooted companionship. His scent was distinct and weighty, braided into her subconscious but sitting deep in her gut. Its sudden presence made her understand that she had missed him. Maybe their tryst had made more of an impression on her than she had considered--not romantically, but something dear no less.
Her strides quickened and widened into an almost awkwardly hipy jog, around a bend to the block over where on the opposite corner, in the sinking twilight, the blonde prodigy sat in a distinctly defeated pose. "Buck up, Sunshine!" she shouted from across the way, unconsciously moving faster towards him with that impish grin she wore so naturally. "I've come to rescue you." Valiant and capricious, she swept up to him and tossed her small, open-armed body at his torso.
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THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOVED
______THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOST
THE THINGS I'VE HELD SACRED
______________THAT I'VE DROPPED
_____ Of all the people he had lost through the years, to time, space, the distance between them, he had perhaps missed her most of all. They were not bound by blood (though one might, by all means, consider them relatives), and not obligated by love. They believed in free love and hope, and together, they had once given birth to a dancing star. They had been left by the wayside by past lovers, bound by their abandonment, perhaps starting back when they were children. It didn’t matter. She came like a ghost out of the fog, like sunlight from behind a cloud. He was grinning as soon as she spoke.
_____ Both arms reached out and encompassed the girl, pulling her to him. She was a sister, a lover, a best friend. He loved her as he had loved all those lost children of the day, all bound together in a common promise. Laughing, he let her go and kept his eyes on her face, beaming as if perhaps all sorrow had indeed left this world. “My knight in shining armor,” he joked. Momentarily, his eyes darkened a shade. “I’m glad you made it here, Lancelot,” he added, the light returning.
I won't lie no more you can bet
I don't want to learn what I'll need to forget
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[html] | | She laughed from her chest, the low, bouncing noise radiating through the thin skin and fine fur of her throat when blocked by a purse-lipped grin that peeled away from the soft space between Ahren's chest and shoulder when their arms released each other. She regarded him with an abstract, multi-layered affection, not unlike that which she could see in his own face. That face was ruggedly handsome, belovedly familiar (and familial), and divinely, dearly imperfect.
She tossed the long, thick side of bangs from her right eye with a flick of her muzzle, revealing the cool grin and proud eyes with feathery lashes that she batted at him. "Anything for you, fair Guinevere," she said gallantly, only to suddenly swing away from her theatrics when her D'Angelo eyes settled upon Ahren's faulted. Her head quirked to one side and a sadness draped across her smile. She had known an old sea-wench of a wolf whose eyes were just the same, and she understood what it meant to live with cataracts. Whether it was from the fire or a fight, she wouldn't be surprised either way, and didn't feel the need to ask. Only to touch the bone beneath his pale eye, gentle and brief, before refocusing on his good eye. Smiling truly again.
"It's been a while, hasn't it?" the bittersweet humour was not hidden in her tone by any means--it had been months and a catastrophe between then and now, there and here. But his scent had lingered in her fur, in the salt-caked dress she had worn, and he had remained present in her mind for some time afterwards. It was only a matter of more time before they crossed paths over the mountain, she had been certain, but his sitting before her now was no less of a pleasant surprise.
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THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOVED
______THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOST
THE THINGS I'VE HELD SACRED
______________THAT I'VE DROPPED
_____ They mirrored each other in emotional display, for he was smiling until she saw the ruined eye, and smiling when she overlooked it. She would offer no pity and no jest—and for that, he loved her. Smiling faintly and looking down, nearly in shame, he offered her nothing but agreement. “Yeah, it has been.” It had been a fault of his own that he had never found her again. There had been far too much that piled up. Addiction was, perhaps, the main cause. Still, it did no good to brood on what had been or what could have been. Lifting his head and smiling again, he continued. “You seem to have figured this city out well enough. Got any idea where I might find a crossbow?”
I won't lie no more you can bet
I don't want to learn what I'll need to forget
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[html] | | "A crossbow..." she repeated in thought, eyes drifting aimlessly upwards as if scanning the map of her memory. There was a sports shop a few blocks away, with deflated balls in a variety of patterns and materials littering the floor, but she couldn't imagine it carrying anything more than toys. The shop that she had found her lobster traps was connected to an inland-hunting store though, which although she hadn't looked around much, seemed like a much more likely location. So her eyes leapt back to Ahren's face and she nodded. "Probably. I didn't see any myself, but I know a place that carries that kind of thing." She stood up and held a hand out to him, ripe-ready to lead him there. "But you know me. It's only the shiny, frilly stuff that keeps my attention, so there could have been one hanging in front of my nose for all I'd notice," she grinned, wiggling her hips to jostle her tutu in emphasis. Months had passed, cycles of good and bad had rolled over both of them, re-shaping and adjusting along the way, but Poe couldn't detect a beat missed between the two. There was comfort with the face she had known for years, the skin she had known once.
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THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOVED
______THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOST
THE THINGS I'VE HELD SACRED
______________THAT I'VE DROPPED
_____ He took her hand like a child might, as they had done so long ago. In her touch was a magic, an electric current he had only seen once before. If Poe had made it to Europe with them, she and Mab might have found each other sisters in time. The blonde smiled at her display. “Well, the frilly stuff suits you,” he offered, laughing lightly. “The only clothes I ever wore were ragged.” Since the day they had first met, he could not imagine her any different then how she was now. The little girl, wandering the empty streets, she was still here—she had become a young woman who belonged here. They were creatures born of concrete and steel, misplaced travelers in a time that had gone back to the wild.
_____ So they walked, Ahren at her side, and the red eyed man was glad for her company.
I won't lie no more you can bet
I don't want to learn what I'll need to forget
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[html] | | Poe found a warm, steady comfort between his fingers, strong enough to have led her through the ocean and to take her away from her sorrows. She grinned warmly, quirking one corner of her lips and lightly body-checking his arm with her shoulder when he laughed. "And yet, I think I can honestly say that your ragged hipster jeans planted the seed of inspiration that would grow into heaps and heaps of old, pretty clothes for me to roll around in!" she cheekily confessed, more honesty than tease at its core. She had been infatuated by him that very first time they met. Not quite romantically, but he naturally captured her attention on a level that few others ever might. Perhaps their first impressions of each other had gone a long way. Or maybe they had found a hint of a mirrored image, and followed it to glimpse under the others' skin.
"Where have you settled since the fire?" she asked, a logical, if not merely practical question to ask after such a monumental event had passed, and a new landscape had taken over their horizon. It was evident that the packs had scattered and many remained wandering, but she caught wind of sprouting pack borders when she cared to leave the city. Ahren had certain entrepreneurship skills that would be valuable to packs in times like these, if he could be so enticed.
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THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOVED
______THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOST
THE THINGS I'VE HELD SACRED
______________THAT I'VE DROPPED
_____ Not long ago they had needed each other, and he was glad that they had come together. The light weight of the young girl (who was, by all rights, a woman) made him smile and step to the side, but only slightly. At her question, he motioned with his free hand to the north. “Up in the forest. Laruku, my son Jasper and I are all staying together, sort of. Between some of the packs,” he added, not knowing their names. He had become a recluse since the fire, though in truth it had been much longer then that.
_____ “I really haven’t considered joining any of the packs yet,” he admitted, eyes trailing along the cityscape. “Don’t think most places would want someone like me hanging around,” he added with a faint grin, amused in spite of himself. Especially, he reasoned, since he was not an unmarred figure. Ahren’s past had been placed in the open not all that long ago, and there were very few who he would accept as a commander, a leader, someone he had to obey. His pride refused to let that happen.
I won't lie no more you can bet
I don't want to learn what I'll need to forget
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[html] | | Green-toned eyes followed his hand, following and invisible line though the city to the softened landscape beyond. She knew it only enough to get the gist of where he meant, and nodded to show an understanding. Jasper too, she had met twice before and coloured in the genetic and historical links with, as she found herself doing with a higher proportion of strangers than seemed reasonable. But, "Laruku?" she repeated for clarification. The name was distantly familiar, a name dropped by somebodies, once or twice in conversations that too far back to recall.
Her brows popped up and quirked in one corner when he carried on about packs, though. She couldn't believe that one for an instant. "Oh, no," she agreed heavily, hiding her tempting smirk with a wide, flat frown. "Damaged goods, you are. So artless, too! No pack could possibly use the likes of you," she drawled while her steps became wider and more sweeping, swaying her body and hand in and out from his side as they passed by dark, broken shopfronts. "An all-around bad egg, if I do say myself." She looked at him with a smart nod that couldn't help but break off into a nose-wrinkling grin, just a little wicked.
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THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOVED
______THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOST
THE THINGS I'VE HELD SACRED
______________THAT I'VE DROPPED
_____ Ahren hesitated to speak on Laruku, and was glad as the dark female began criticizing him with jest. Like an aging professor, he looked at her down his nose and nodded sharply. “Yes, I’m a fascist and an anarchist and rotten to the core,” he offered, suddenly pulling out into the street and bringing her with him. Despite his scars, his ruined eye, his too-long hair, there was a wild beauty in his display. “Captain of our fairy band, Helena is here at hand,” he began quoting, a sing-song rhyme echoed by his step. He pulled her close, grinning boyishly. “And the youth, mistook by me, pleading for a lover's fee.” He then let her go and half-ran, half-skipped down the road, laughing. “Shall we their fond pageant see? Lord, what fools these mortals be!”
I won't lie no more you can bet
I don't want to learn what I'll need to forget
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[html] | | Ahren's charm took hold of her immediately, and led her out onto the street that was suddenly a stage, with the volant poise expected from a pair of tango dancers. He spoke the devilish words from a play that had enchanted Poe at a young age, able to conjure magic, chaos and love in its poem of truths and lies. It was a story that, while read from the sidelines of the torrid, twisted and broken mateships that she had seen in her youth, had perhaps guided her into the anti-commitment wild child that she firmly embraced through the course of her own romances.
Spontaneity was like a drug to her, and she moved to and from Ahren's broad chest, following him with enchanted eyes as he took off down the road, laughing the way she imagined the fairy he quoted would have. She ran after him, catching his elbow briefly turn them both suddenly down a cross street at their left. "Over park, over pale, through flood, through fire," she recited words that she could only remember as they dropped from the tip of her tongue at the beat of her footfalls, "I do wander everywhere. Swifter than the moon's sphere! And I serve the fairy queen--" she stopped then abruptly, looking over her shoulder. The moon that she believed to be staying ahead of had instead hoisted into view above the buildings and was casting some light on the shop fronts. "There," she pointed suddenly with a satisfied, lip-parted smile at a grey-brown store front with an indistinguishable fish and name in chipped paint topping the entrance. "In the back."
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THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOVED
______THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOST
THE THINGS I'VE HELD SACRED
______________THAT I'VE DROPPED
_____ Poe reminded him of all the things he had ever wanted. He loved her for those simple reasons, and would defend her with his life if she asked. She was a once-lover, a former ward, a friend. Now together they were running in a ruined city, hunting items to serve them well after the apocalypse. The blonde followed her finger and moved ahead with the easy speed of a city-rogue, a street urchin. He tried the door, found it swung out with a forceful yank. Ahren walked forward, into a musky building full of fishing rods and tackle. Dust, disturbed by his presence, caused the moonlight to dance on the walls, the hooks, the tools of men. “In the back, huh?”
I won't lie no more you can bet
I don't want to learn what I'll need to forget
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[html] | | The bond that they had developed in layer upon layer created a synchronicity in their ventures together, leading and following the other in an unheard rhythm. As Ahren opened the door, Poe released her tin lantern from its cufflinked place on her bag with the one-handed ease of an experienced explorer of these brick caverns. Another hand fished out a match and with a squeak, flick and delicate touch, the lantern took light. "In the back," she confirmed with an easy smile and step, leading them through the length of the dark, dusty shop.
On the far end of a wall, empty hooks, a metal stool and a great disturbance in the thick dust marked her previous visit in which she had taken the traps that kept her nourished these days. Beyond this on the back wall, was a cobwebbed doorway that led to a smaller hunting store. Parting the sticky web with her free hand, Poe passed through and held the lantern above her head, shedding light on walls cluttered with mounted animal heads, antique rifles and hunting gear. A collapsed shelving unit had spilled camping gear on the ground to their left, and to their right was a glass viewing case that doubled as a service counter, and a storage room behind a closed door. The floorboards creaked loudly with each of the shadow-girl's steps as she followed the lantern light in search of Ahren's buried treasure, stopping only when she came to the counter. The top was thickly clouded with dust cover, so Poe crouched down to peer through the side. And there, among other choice valuables such as binoculars, compasses and binoculars, was a single crossbow propped up in a corner. "There you are, sir," she said with a satisfied smile. "One crossbow, made just for you."
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THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOVED
______THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOST
THE THINGS I'VE HELD SACRED
______________THAT I'VE DROPPED
_____ A long time ago, a little boy had been fascinated by places like this. They were ruins, archives, museums in their own right. He had lost himself in them, but the little boy had died before his time was up. The man that grew in his place, like a misplaced tree, had attempted to find the same wonder but found it lacking. Later on, he took his daughter to those places, and would leave her as she slept under the eyes of long-dead painters and beautiful women as he set fire to abandoned cars.
_____ From her hand came light, illuminating the store and its ruined state, the artifacts they had come to plunder. He followed her like a child, like two children doing something they had no right to do, and then he passed by her to take the treasure for himself. It was all one smooth motion, and before he was aware of it he was checking the string, the taunt pull, the sharp twang that accompanied the pressure from his finger. It was wonderful, despite the time. He turned, hunching over to look through old musty boxes, and found a small collection of arrows. They were small, as expected with the crossbow, and these were slid into a quiver and flung over his shoulder. Like a boy armed for the war between the white and the red man, Ahren smiled, black dust on his face. “Thank you.”
I won't lie no more you can bet
I don't want to learn what I'll need to forget
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[html] | | Fini?
The would-be Native/City-Rat handled the weapon with the certainty and ease that Poe often saw in his movement. Whether he was conducting a pack or in the middle of chaos and ruins, he always carried an admirable air of fortitude and willfulness that kept her eyes lingering a little longer than the rest. She smiled to herself, to the warmth of his company and the beat that they played between each other. For a girl who glided between personal ties and emotions like a bird on the wing, she found a striking sureness in her love for this boy.
She rounded the glass cabinet as Ahren found the proper accessories for his find, and sorted through the other prized, preserved objects. A small, weighty compass with a painted face and sturdy arms was dusted off, thumbed over, and pushed into the multi-coloured fountain that poured from her open bag, just as Ahren, dusty and satisfied, thanked her. She took his hand again to rise up before him, and with an expression to mirror his own, she said, "Anything for you, Puck," and meant it.
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