romeo, save me

Krystalle Horzana · 03-12-2011, 10:53 PM

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Backdated to 11Mar2011.
WC→504

She heaved a sigh. Sitting at the makeshift table, charcoal pencil in hand, the Latin mutt had spent hours writing the final chapter of her latest masterpiece, known in her mother's home of San Solace as Blanca Nieve. The seven jackal Luperci had found the beautiful Blanca Nieve in a state of unconscious within their small home, and knew immediately that it had been the wicked hag of a Queen who had killed the woman. Krystalle loved the story when she found it amongst the Mexican library, still intact, and now she was able to share it with her new family. Someone had to appreciate the written word in the same way she did, after all.

Writing had become her escape from the world, living in the small home with the strange Russo she'd met within the boundaries of California. She needed the escape. Their life had become complex, more so than she had wanted to admit at first. Bartholomew had always made it his mission to be around when Krystalle was present, and she knew Mars couldn't stand it. In the morning, waking up from whatever night she'd spent with the more amiable personality, the dominant mind of the tri-colored male always seemed in a poor mood. It was clear to the Shepherd-mix that she was unwanted by the one who really mattered.

So she found herself at the table more frequently, creating prolix works on scrap papers, avoiding the Russo as much as possible. She didn't want to aggravate the situation, dreading the day she would wake up to find him gone again. No goodbye, no message of where he'd be. He'd left her before in such a state, and that'd prompted her to trek across two countries in search of the unique man known as Mars. There was no doubt in her mind that he would leave her again, especially if his one tie (this Orin woman) somehow became a non-issue. She was the third wheel in his life, a strange creature left in his unwelcoming world.

A sniff broke the silence around her, a few tears falling on the pages of the book. She tried not to be emotional, but Mars was so important to her world that she couldn't hold the stinging tears back. She had gone all that way for a male who didn't really care for her. Bartholomew did. Bartholomew might as well have been a figment of her imagination. Mars was apathetic.

She rose from her chair and wiped her face, bustling about to make some of the tea she found so comforting. Without purpose, she made two cups, staring at the second while it steeped and wondering what to do with herself. Another sigh escaped her, white-tipped fingers grasping both cups as she went to find what hole the Russo had pushed himself into. "Mars, mi querido? Are you busy?" In truth, she didn't care what he was doing; she wanted to talk, and try to understand the thoughts that passed through his split mind.

Mars Bartholomew Russo · 03-13-2011, 04:24 PM

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OOC: I love that text table. *wants one for mars* +7
So I run and hide,

Mars had been busy all morning, trying his hardest to get this clothing done. He had been working on many projects at one time (something to keep his mind busy so that Bartholomew couldn't take over; which was failing by the way) and one of them was figuring out what sizes he would be dealing with by now. Orin had gotten noticeably bigger since Mars had met her, became a full woman before his eyes really, and it was time to figure out what dress size she was sporting now simply on the memory of what she looked like. He was pretty good at estimating how much room would be needed on the dress, but he had been having some trouble remembering some things because of the memory block that Bartholomew capped on Mars at random times. The lapse would result in a quick onset headache, Mars imagined it as Bartholomew having a bat and he would hit Mars in the head with it every time he wanted to be a jerk. It'd make Mars take a deep breathe and he had growled lightly at him and then remind Bartholomew that it was his memory of Orin, not Bart's. He had gotten himself passed the straps of the dress, and he would be working on the bust when he would be hit with a huge headache that he had to get up and walk it off.

And tell myself, I'll start again

He had walked around the confines of his room for a few minutes before the smell of tea had sunk under the door and was bothering his sensitive nose. He wondered what time it was. Was it tea time? Mars went to his window then and pushed the blanket covering his window out of the way and he had looked outside. It was past tea time. The sun had started to fall in the sky, by about three hours on Mars' internal clock that had been programmed by his mother. He had spent some time doing clothing. He had been working on Itzal's pants before he had been working on Orin's gift. (he wanted to surprise her with a new dress so she could be beautiful, and so she knew that he was there for her.) He then thought about how Krystalle could help him. She was a pretty curvy woman, and she was a good model, so she could help him with the dress. It'd suck having to explain to her that it wasn't for her. Maybe he'd take up another project and make her a dress as well, just so he wouldn't have to explain. He could pass it off as a surprise for her. Sounded like a good plan to him.

With a brand new name

The woman had come to him before he had gone to her though. He heard a voice from outside his door, asking him if he was busy. Mars then decided that it would be a good time to stop, have a cup of tea and maybe play his guitar for his other-half's friend. Might as well entertain since Bartholomew wasn't around to. Mars didn't want Bartholomew around to entertain. Mars wanted to be greedy with his body and actually be who he was. Mars said fuck you to Bartholomew several times this morning if one was listening enough to hear him yelling at himself like an old, insane wolf. He moved away from the window and picked up his guitar. He piles all of his fabrics together in a pile to the side so that it wouldn't look like he was working too much on them. He then walked over to the door and he opened it for the woman. No. I'm ready for tea. his cool voice allowed the words to coldly pass his lips. He allowed her in, if only because she had tea in her hands(true intentions hidden), and he put the guitar back down on the bed really quick before he had taken a cup from her. He nodded his head and took a sip of tea. Thanks for the tea. the man thanked the woman. She knew how much he liked tea. That was no secret. What can I do for you, Krystalle? the man asked, wondering why she had went through the whole process of making him some tea.

Krystalle Horzana · 03-13-2011, 06:08 PM

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Super sucky post, but I just wanted to reply...
Maybe I'll make a gift for you later. ;D

He let her into his workshop without much hesitation, perhaps simply because she brought him tea; pink eyes scanned his belongings in turn, features falling at the sight of the unfinished dress she assumed he'd been working on. It was hard for the Latin to believe Mars would do anything for her, and so she had to assume it was for the pink-and-white woman he seemed to care so much about. She wouldn't deny it hurt. She'd been there for him during California, and she'd followed him across two countries, but it was some unknown woman who had captured the attention of her strange friend.

She didn't sit, pacing around a short distance while she sipped at her teacup and listened to Mars speak. His voice was far more cool and collected than Bartholomew, lacking the awkward accent her lover sported. In truth, she appreciated it more. Eyes turned down to the floor as he asked what he could do. She wasn't sure if she was comfortable with the topic she was about to introduce, but it needed to be addressed. "You don't want me here." The words, laced with her Spanish accent, were blunt and to the point. She just needed to hear him say it, to believe it was true. "I came all this way for you and you still don't...like me. Do I do something wrong, Mars?"

Krystalle could only assume it was her fault.

Mars Bartholomew Russo · 03-14-2011, 08:16 PM

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OOC:

+3

Mars noticed that the woman did not sit. She was not relaxed, she looked like she was nervous. Mars showed no emotion, a blank slate, steel eyes looking at the beautiful cream and tan woman. He blinked twice at the woman, and then she spoke to him, her words blunt and to the point. She told him that she was not wanted here, and then she asked what she was doing "wrong". Mars never told her that he didn't want her here, and it actually was nice to have a slightly more familiar face in the land of strangers, but then again, Mars and Krystalle never were as close as Bartholomew and Krystalle. He appreciated her loyality to Bartholomew, but he believed it wasn't placed right. Her fascination with the split-headed male was not desired only because Mars did not love himself enough to let people love him freely. He rejected most love, simply because he didn't know how to accept it. When presented with this question that the woman place in front of him, Mars tilted an ear back and he had looked down at his guitar. He took another sip of his tea before he had put it down on an end table and he had picked his guitar up and placed that on his lap. His fingers moved into position and he started to strum lightly.

Mars shook his head. You don't do anything wrong. the man spoke to her simply, but simply failed at telling her why she was unwanted here by him. Mars didn't like to explain why Mars did not "like" her like Bart did. It was simply because Mars was asexual. Mars didn't like Krystalle because he always felt awkward with her, knowing that she was Bart's friend, and not knowing why she was around, and why she liked them so much. Mars had no clue that Bartholomew had bedded the woman, never did Mars remember, and when Mars went snooping in memories, Bart was quick to make sure that Mars did not find out such memories by giving him those huge headaches. Mars looked at the woman. Did you come here for Me or Bartholomew? the man's words fell from his American tongue and his fingers continued to play his guitar, his eyes not bothering to look at her for the moment, since he was trying slightly to focus on playing his guitar.

Krystalle Horzana · 03-15-2011, 12:50 AM

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Poor Krys.

WC→316

She wouldn't deny that it was awkward to listen to his response, the whole issue open in the air. She wouldn't leave, certainly not after traveling so far, but she couldn't stay in the house if he really wanted her gone. There were other homes in Thornbury. Perhaps even another pack could suit her, if the need arose. The comfort of Mars Bartholomew Russo was tantamount to her own comfort. It was with a heavy sigh that she sat herself down, crossing athletic legs in an attempt to soothe her own anxiety. It was simply another discussion with the male, though with a different side of him. Her flopped ears twisted lower on her head, unable to really show much emotion due to their natural form. Suddenly, she felt unwilling to continue the route they were headed; of course, it was too late to take back the words that had been uttered.

"I came here for you. For both of you. All of you. However many yous there are, Mars." She wasn't sure if it made much sense to the ears of the wolfdog Russo, but it made sense to her. She'd read the books, she knew the psychology. Even if she could see them as different, Mars and Bartholomew were really just two sides to one coin. "You're different, and I get that. 'm the first to say you and him are two people. But it's not true, and you know it ain', Mars. I came here for you, because I love all of you. I don't think anyone else will."

She didn't mean for her words to sound rude; they were heartfelt, but the emotions that should have shown through in the sentences were diluted, a common problem that arose within the doggish woman. Unease colored her actions, sipping at the teacup to hide trembling hands as she awaited judgment by her close friend.

Mars Bartholomew Russo · 03-20-2011, 10:14 PM

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Word Count → 422

Sorry for the wait.

Mars' large ears on his tall head had pinned towards the woman, giving the man that husky-ish look on his large wolfdog head. He stared at her, the one emotion-filled eyes were now dulled, and a mask of no emotion was played on the actor's face. The woman would finally sit down, though it would seem that the anxiety level was still the same even though she had been seated. Mars watched her face, listened to her words when she spoke. She told him that she had come here for all that he was. For him, for Bartholomew, for whoever else was in his body along with him. He listened to the passionless words that she spoke to him. She did have this problem, like Mars did, to where their words were passionless, not unless there was a placed mock emotion that was purposely placed there. The difference was that Mars' default expression was simply one of no emotion what so ever, while hers was of happiness. To see her like this, anxious, unhappy, was something that Mars had not come across before, and he was put off guard by the shifting in emotion of the woman who's words held no passion. She loved him, but could not muster the passion in her doggish voice to tell him truly? She proved slight persistence by chasing him when he left, but he did not know of her being loyal to Mars. Waiting for him to be ready to be with her would prove to him that she was loyal to him. Why she was tested by him was beyond his conscious mind. He subconsciously tested the woman, and her patience with him seemed to be wearing quite thin.

Something within the man's mind had found the words to be true, while the other part, that part that was Mars, and that was arrogant, and egotistical. It was the ego and the arrogance that had shown on his stupid split colored face and he looked straight at the woman. Does Bartholomew tell you that he loves you? Is that why you ask me these questions? the man asked to the woman, frankly not knowing what to say to the woman other than to just collect whatever information he could from the woman at the moment. How can you love someone likeme, Krystalle? Why do you love me? the man simply did not understand what was to love about him. He believed that he was worthless, not worthy of being loved. Simple as that.

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Krystalle Horzana · 03-21-2011, 12:11 AM

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So short. ;~; I'm sorry.

His questions weren't misplaced, but she wondered why he went down those lines. She'd never stopped to think that Bartholomew would hide anything from Mars, but it suddenly passed through her thoughts. Did he really not know? She wondered what else he didn't know, unable to hide her own memories from the male. "I ain' sure Barty can love me. He likes bein' who he is, sleepin' with who he wants...stuff like that." She gave a shake of her head, trembling hand raising the tea to her lips once more. It wasn't easy to admit that she loved someone who clearly did not feel the same, and each new word left her heart aching more.

What he asked next left her dumbfounded, if only for a moment. At first, she wasn't sure she understood what he asked; how could she love someone like him? What did he mean, someone like him? A frown coalesced over tan-and-cream features as pink eyes gazed absently at his black-and-white face. "How could I not?" Her shoulders shrugged up around her neck, unsure of how to better explain. "Y'all are good people. And you're my friends. I ain' alone when you're here, and when you go away..." She trailed off, eyes misting up as she revisited the feelings of abandonment felt when she realized the Russo had disappeared. She wasn't sure if he'd understand; sometimes she didn't. "When you go away, things seem wrong, and when I'm with you, everything is better. If that ain' love, then I guess I'm just confused."

Mars Bartholomew Russo · 03-24-2011, 11:31 PM

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Word Count → 637

lalala

Mars listened. If there was anything good about the man, he was a good listener as both Mars and Bartholomew. Bartholomew was just the one who you'd get more words out of, less questions. Mars had more questions than words to comfort others, or words to be funny. He could be charming at some points in time, The Mars part of him, but Bartholomew was so much better at it, so much more comfortable with it. Mars was awkward about it, which was why he had failed many times to be charming to the woman, unless she thought little things like him making tea for her without asking, or for him to do random things for her was charming, then he would be right on track. At the words of the woman, she spoke of Bartholomew "sleeping" with people. To his knowledge, Bartholomew had not slept with anyone, much less did Mars bed anyone. Whoa, wait. Bartholomew sleeps with people, like...fucking, then sleeping with people? the man asked, a rather confused look forming over the Russo's normally blank face. If Bart slept with others, then Mars could have kids that weren't really his. Not his mentally. Physically, obviously, but not mentally. Bart would have ruined things if he had slept with others too often. It'd mean that Mars was no better than his father. Fucking girls and then leaving. Possibly having tons of illegitimate kids running around with whatever name Bartholomew decided to tell the woman he had, weither it be Cubbins or Russo. It was more than likely going to be Cubbins, if not some made up name that Bartholomew passed as one night.

She spoke on about how she could love him. All of him. She said that she felt wrong without him around, that everything was right when he was around, that she missed him pretty much. It was weird to have someone actually miss the Russo man simply because Mars was never supposed to be missed. He was barely even supposed to exist. Why he did exist was beyond him. His mother should have just killed him off, punched her stomach just a little bit harder so that he'd be born dead along with his other dead siblings. If he didn't exist, then he wouldn't have had to be in this situation at the moment. If he hadn't existed, then he wouldn't have had to deal with any of this. He would have just had to deal with whatever afterlife there was, if there was any at all. Mars did not particularly believe in an afterlife. He pretty much thought that when he was dead, he was worm food. When it was over, it was all over. That's probably what he'd always believe. Not unless he could be persuaded. It'd take a lot to do so though.

You are a good friend too. the man spoke to her, his words were slightly careful, almost unknowing of what exactly to say next. He'd long from stopped strumming the guitar, simply because be was thinking now. He was thinking hard about her declaration of her love for him. Mars looked at his guitar absently before his mind would decide it was time to ask more questions. Did...Did he sleep with you Krystalle? the man slowly asked, not knowing what else to say after this question. He found that he was on the fence with Krystalle. Part of Mars yearned for Krystalle, yeah, but Mars justified this as Bartholomew's desire to be with her. He did not admit to it being him who wanted to be with her, which was why it was so easy to just leave her behind in California. He figured she was handy enough to handle herself (which she obviously did very nicely) and that she would find something, someone else.

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Krystalle Horzana · 03-27-2011, 01:35 AM

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Poor Mars.

WC→00

He seemed confused as she mentioned Bartholomew's loose sexual habits, but she didn't offer clarification. The Russo was an adult, male, and she would have been concerned if he hadn't felt even a minimal urge for physical satisfaction. Years of study into the minds of humans before them had lead her to assume similarities that were quite possibly not there; it kept her mind occupied, which gave relief to the female as she went through her days. It wasn't hard to apply what she learned to Mars, or to herself. In fact, her most prized possession had pages upon pages about the particular psychological defect her tri-colored wolfdog suffered from.

Disclosing her anxiety only created more discomfort in the area. Krystalle was not the type to gush about how she felt; she couldn't even sympathize with those who did, and it left her world ruled by something other than her heart, logic perhaps. As she sat before the Russo, she wondered why she felt it necessary to explain. Why had she desired to tell him what exactly was happening in her mind? 'Because he deserves to know?' The small conscience in the back of her skull piped up to offer words of wisdom. She wasn't sure that was it.

She was a good friend, but that was all she was; in the end, she wasn't entirely sure she was a friend either, but more an unnecessary stroke on a painting hung in his life. As she contemplated that, he asked a question. For a moment, it went unanswered. Did she want to tell him the truth? Of course, she did, but she knew it would be more uncomfortable than it was at that moment. "Yes, Mars. We fool around." Her shoulders shrugged up against her neck, pink eyes studying his face. "I don't know who else there is. Maybe no one here, maybe no one anywhere. It don't really matter, does it? It's not you, it's him. You like...some other chica." Bartholomew had told her about Orin, who Krystalle knew to live next door if nothing else.

She was the odd-one-out. She shouldn't have followed, but she did. "This was a bad idea." It wasn't an observation, but a fact, stated as the tan-and-cream female stood from her seat.

Mars Bartholomew Russo · 03-27-2011, 01:30 PM

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OOC: +5

The first question went unanswered. It was because it was obvious. If Mars did not sleep around, then it was just retarded to think that Bartholomew did not get horny enough to go fuck someone, or something for all Mars knew. Mars was slightly disgusted with Bartholomew (and therefore himself as well) as he had let his gaze fall back down to the guitar. Mars took this chance to wrap his fingers around his cup and he picked it up, and took a few sips of his tea. He would break his lips from the cup and when he set the cup down, he let out a small sigh, and he shook his head lightly. It wasn't good that Bartholomew was sleeping around. It complicated things much more then they already were. Many relationships would be on the line if Bartholomew had slept with them. A mismatched ivory ear fell back on the Russo's head.

Even when he had asked the woman if they had fooled around, it took the woman a minute to answer. Mars already knew the answer by the way she had paused before answering. As if she was weighing her options, to tell him or to not tell him. The actor watched the woman's face with his steel eyes, and when she finally said that they had, he let his eyes fall to her chest for a moment. He looked at her collar that he had made for her, then his eyes went to her jacket collar. At least Bartholomew had some sort of taste in women, since Krystalle was a beautiful creature. She really was pretty, and if Mars had any sense of love in his body he'd realize that he wanted to be with her, because she seemed to understand him, or at least she wanted to try to understand him. Most people didn't give him the time of day after they figured some things out. But her, she wanted to know it all apparently. She was curious enough to want to see all he had to offer apparently. She had continued to speak about how she didn't know if Bartholomew was with anyone else, and she asked if it really mattered or not. It just complicates things. the man simply spoke, again, failing to explain to the woman why. His eyes did not look at her anymore, they were now on the bed when she had commented that he liked some other girl. His eyes had moved back onto her and brows furrowed at her. Nobody said that I like anyone. the man defended, denying any feelings for anyone. This was expected since Mars was not capable of sexuality. He was capable of being romantic, and wanting attention(emotional attention, not really physical), but he was in complete denial about it.

I don't like anyone. I have friends, that's it Krystalle. the man spoke to her, nodding his head and trying to look as positively truthful about it. He licked his lips out of habit before he turned and grabbed his cup again and sipped the precious tea. Out of the Mars remembered that he wanted to be able to have some Chai tea at some point in time, and he needed milk for that. Krystalle, I need a goat. the man randomly proposed the idea to the woman, a sad attempt at trying to change the subject.

Krystalle Horzana · 03-30-2011, 12:29 AM

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Mars can try to make her stay and she probably would; otherwise, she's gonna head outside.

Of course, he had expected her answer. Of course he had, for it was so clear. It didn't ease the awkward air that bubbled up around them. She'd spent so much time wondering about him that she hadn't really taken the time to think of how her interaction with Bartholomew affected Mars; Barty seemed to know everything that went on between the two personalities, but Mars was limited to only what he had as his own memories. Nights spent in the arms of her fantasy lover hadn't reached the mind of his true face. For a moment, she sympathized; she couldn't imagine how difficult it was to deal with the actions of another when they contradicted her own. She was still whole, after all.

He disclosed that it complicated things. Unsure how, she remained silent, watching him with absent curiosity. It wasn't until he denied his affection for another that she took on true expression. Vague betrayal colored her features quickly, and she rose from her seat. "Don' lie to me, Mars. Bartholomew told me about her. 'm not stupid; I remember everything you two tell me." He had friends, but didn't like anyone, and as honest as he appeared, she was incapable of believing him. Even a man who had no desire for physical companionship was capable of feeling adoration for another. Jealousy welled up in her chest, arms crossing beneath her breasts. "He told me you left another pack for her. I don' care what friends you have, Mars. I know she's not just your friend."

Her voice lowered, twisting into something soft and depressed, as if she were a little girl who had watched her puppy be kicked. She was incapable of truly being upset about the who incident; in the end, she believed Mars would understand and be willing to stay with her. It didn't stop the first signs of tears as they came and went from her eyes. She ignored his comment about the goat, gathering what dishes she had brought into the workroom. "Think I need air, Mars. 'm gonna step outside." A simple, courteous warning that she planned to leave the room; in truth, she expected that she'd go for a walk, and think about where she wanted to be in the next months of her life.

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