M - End of All Hope

Mars Bartholomew Russo · 04-02-2011, 09:28 PM

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WARNING This thread contains: graphic sexual content, graphic violence, or extremely offensive material starting with the 1st post. Reader discretion is advised.

OOC: Krystalle plz. This thread is backdated to the 30th of March. Nighttime, Mars' house. hope you don't mind me pping her in the living room. +3

He'd found where the tri-colored man lived. This pack where there were so many different victims. Hurricane stalked through the empty town, it being silent as the night that drifted over it. The only thing he could hear was the loose soil beneath his spiked bat that he dragged across the floor as he slowly trudged through the silent town. He looked as if he was Mars today, because of the ashes that had been washed from his pelt in the rain that he had been caught in the night before. He had not killed, so he had no bodies to burn, no ash to roll in. He looked like Mars, and those white pants were now splattered with blood that too tried to wash away, but it stayed there, staining his beautiful pants. Hurricane didn't care, but Mars would when he woke up.

Hurricane had found his way straight to Mars' house, a scent coming from the inside had been attracting him for quite some time now, weither he knew it or not. His body was raging with hormones, instinct lead him here, to his house where he dwelled as another person. For now though, he was someone that no one really knew here. Hurricane was only known in the underworld. He had no place on Earth, and here he was anyways, stuck inside of Mars' body. Hurricane pushed open the door to Mars' house and he dangerously walked into the dark house. The man's nose had taken in the thick smell that had lead him to his place, and he had followed it. He turned the corner to the kitchen. He sniffed. No, she was not here, so the man moved over to the living room. There she was, sitting there, drinking some tea. He looked at her with his dangerous steel eyes, and a devious grin formed on his maw.

Come...Be mine.. the man ordered, his tongue hanging out of his maw for a moment. She should know what was setting his hormones off, but why he had that deranged look was because he was not who she would think he was. She did not know Hurricane, for she had only seen Bartholomew and Mars. Hurricane tapped his spiked bat on the ground lightly, waiting for the woman to heed to his command.

Krystalle Horzana · 04-03-2011, 02:40 PM

Crap post. Apologies.
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She'd been having a very peaceful morning, not having to deal with Mars in any arguments since their confrontation five days earlier. Writing her stories took up most of her mental time. It was a pleasant alternative to what else she could spend her time doing. Wasting away. Meeting new friends. No, being alone was her preferred method of getting the tri-colored wolfdog from her brain. It didn't help that the days had rushed up on her, leaving her surprised that those things about being female that caused her to isolate herself had crept up yet again. Sometimes, she wished she were a boy.

When the door opened, pink eyes turned upward; the teacup she'd been drinking from remained suspended above the saucer. OF course he'd come home at the very wrong moment. It wasn't difficult to resist Bartholomew's awkward charms on any normal day, but she often found herself giving in to temptation some days. The state she was in, she knew it would be frustrating to deal with him. Ready to leave the room, she stood, but surprise colored her features as he spoke in a strange ordered tone. Mars, being a creature that lacked most sexual desires, had never ordered her to do anything.

A frown crossed her face as she turned back. "Excuse me, mi querido? Did you have something to say?" Her voice was cold, still annoyed from the argument and not amused at his sudden buck of masculine determination. Still, the offer was tempting enough. Mars wasn't unattractive by any means. The only thing that had ever stopped her before was the unwanted phrase "motherhood"; she'd never seen herself as a maternal figure. THe other visual cues did not raise red flags more than "motherhood" did.

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Mars Bartholomew Russo · 04-03-2011, 07:03 PM

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OOC: I actually liked that post <3 +3

Hurricane did not care about her not wanting to be a mother. She was in heat, and Hurricane was a male who happened to have very little self control when it came to sex, in fact, it was the sole thing that brought him here, was sex, and instinct to fuck until this woman was to be a mother. Mars would have been able to hold off, most definitely, and Bartholomew would have had a harder time not sleeping with her, but Hurricane had no self-control about it. That and his anger he had no self-control over. It made him extremely dangerous. When the woman had looked at him, asked him if he had something to say to him. There was no recognition of the verbal arguments that her and Mars had only days before (and if he was coherent to who he was and where he was, then he would be surprised that the woman didn't dare to go out and look for him since he had been noticeably missing for the past few days.) in the eyes of the man, nor did the look on his face match up to either looks that Bartholomew not Mars would give the woman. Hurricane had put his blood-stained, spiked bat against the wall. Curled tail was over his back as the Optime man had walked up to the woman. He looked at her with his one dilated eye, and one contracted eye (something that also wasn't present in Mars or Bartholomew) and he turned his head slightly, evil grin still there.

I said...he started to speak, his word barely above a whisper. He moved the distance between the two, and when he had come up to her, he had not hesitated to put his arms around her waist and pull her close to him, if she didn't willingly let it happen, then he would fight her to keep her in his grip. Come to me..Or I'll have to force you to be mine.. the man growled to the woman, even his voice seeming to be different, holding a sharp, dangerous tone that neither Mars nor Bartholomew had ever used. His voice was also slightly deeper than both of the other personalities, making the man sound older than he was. Hurricane could have been an older personality in the younger male's body, which was plausible, though it didn't seem that physically he was older because he didn't really act too much older, but he did have a deeper voice and that was really the only way to tell the age of the personality only because physically they all looked like Mars Russo..

Krystalle Horzana · 04-09-2011, 02:13 AM

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The red flags that should have gone off at his appearance were late to the party. It wasn't until firm arms held her in place that she noticed differences. This was not the Mars she had expected. It wasn't Bartholomew either. No, the thing that stood before her with threats of force and dangerous words, was something new entirely. A new personality. A new split. A new mind. She knew it was possible, oh did she know, but she hadn't been expecting it. In truth, it only served to fuel her jealousy; Orin's disappearance, the only truly stressful moment for Mars in recent days, had triggered something in the mind of her friend. It hadn't happened for her. He hadn't suffered a new mind when he left her behind. Oh no, of course not.

Pink eyes widened to awkward size, pupils contracting to pinpricks. Survival wasn't really her forte. She didn't know when to simple give in or stop, and she couldn't tell something dangerous from something cuddly on most days. This thing that stood before her, however, was clear in its intent. And, though she was not weak by any means, she was certain she was trapped. Toned arms pushed furiously against a muscular chest, one hand raising to shove his bi-colored face away. Screaming came to mind, but was quickly abolished. She didn't want to get Mars into trouble.

A snarl tore through cream jaws. "Oi! Stupid bastard! Haven' forgiven you yet; get your hands off'a me!" Though it was clear Mars was absent, she was unwilling to recognize a new person in his body. She wanted Mars to come through. She wanted to talk to Mars. He was reasonable.

Mars Bartholomew Russo · 04-09-2011, 11:00 PM

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ooc: feel free to have Krystalle bite and scratch him. I don't mind at all. also, sorry for the disgusting amount of pp in this post T.T I really hope you don't mind

This was a good question, what exactly fucked Mars over enough for him to split off into a new personality. Truth was, it was a mixture of things. Uncertain feelings that neither Bartholomew, nor Mars was able to deal with that had just bottled up in a corner and sprouted a new persona entirely. What had caused the feelings was the disappearance of one of his closest friends, and then the reappearance and sexual tension(and regular tension) that Krystalle had been pushing onto Mars (and not Bartholomew, because Krystalle avoided him both ways) had caused Hurricane to be born. Hurricane simply was sexual tension, confusion, anger, and sorrow all in one hurricane of a being. It was probably appropriate that he was called this. Hurricane held his sick eyes on the woman, and every moment she fought, he fought harder to get her under control. When she fingers tried to shove him away, he bared his fangs and actually went after her fingers with his mouth, snapping shut around the woman's fingers, and the strong jaws held them there for a moment, enough time for blood to touch his tongue. His devilish, cold steel eyes would stare at the woman all while he was doing this, before his maw would open and release her fingers.

She snarled at him, and he snarled back, his hackles and then straight down his back would raise a ridge of guard hairs, his tail was fluffed out and held in a tight curl on his back. You dare to defy me? the man growled before he had grabbed her hands so she could not do any more of that pushing him away bullshit that she had been doing. He growled to her as he held her there. You're pretty cute too. Surprised there isn't a male in here already. the man growled, scenting only himself there (which did strike him as odd, since he didn't believe that he was anyone else) but he did not think of it simply because the woman wouldn't stop struggling like a goddamn fish that had been caught by a fisherman. He then had the great idea to take the woman against her will by leaning down and scooping her up and hauling her over his shoulder (she was light enough for this to happen without much trouble of him picking her up.) but she made one hell of a fight happen while she was there. For some reason though, this man felt like he knew this place like the back of his hand, but he did not show the recognition too well because everything was hazy in his mind, so he was slightly wandering around the house with the woman but not really. He entered the kitchen for a quick moment but would quickly turn towards the stairs. He climbed the stairs as slowly as possible because of the woman and her fighting and when they had made it up to the top of the stairs it took the man a moment for figure out which room to go in.

It's ruthless to fight. You're mine either way. the man challenged before he had found Mars' room and walked in. He would take her in there and then put her down on the bed and run back to the door. He locked it and then he stared at her from where he was standing in front of the door. A devilish grin still plastered on his face. His tail wagged lightly behind him before he inched closer and closer to the woman on the bed. You have no choice, girl. he spoke to the woman, remembering that he did not know her name. He approached her and grabbed the front of her green kilt, and he pulled himself on the bed with her.

633= +5

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Krystalle Horzana · 04-11-2011, 04:12 AM

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Where was Mars? This beast before her snarled in return, fur raising on end in the natural defense of looking bigger. It didn't take much. He was already larger in comparison to her doggish body. His comments caused more little flags to pop up in her mind. This was wrong. This was all so very wrong.

Of course she was cute, she wanted to say, and yes there was a man who lived in the home. He did, when he was sane and rational and not using force to get his way. Tossed over his shoulder, she pounded at his back with annoyed fists; the bastard had no right to touch her like he was. She determined the distance in their awkward relationship. Mars only got to participate. She couldn't see as he walked, legs flailing in aggravation at her position; as he tossed her onto the bed, she let out a grunt of surprise.

Dammit. He was determined.

The door locked as she tried to navigate her way off of the mattress. It seemed to be no use. He grinned, his tail wagged. As he so kindly stated, she didn't have a choice. Her body moved toward him as he grabbed the front of her skirt; she didn't weigh enough to hold her own when not on solid ground. "'m thinkin' I have every choice. Cut it out, Mars. This ain' funny." To finalize her words, she snapped at the air in front of his face. She wasn't above playing dirty.

Mars Bartholomew Russo · 04-11-2011, 01:49 PM

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ooc: yeaaaaaahhhhh another pp post goddamnit.

She retaliated the whole time. Hurricane liked the fights that they would always put him through. It made him feel stronger, it made him feel like he was on top of the world because he could force them to do whatever he wanted to simply because he was physically stronger then most of the females he came by. He held a huge grin on his face as he pushed her down onto the bed. He was hovering over her when she had spoken to him again, telling him that she did have a choice in the matter, she also called him "Mars". Hurricane shook his head, and she snapped at his jaw. He flinched back, her teeth grazing his nose, but it was definitely enough force to make him bleed. He lifted his ivory hand to his nose, but he did not seem too stunned, nor too concerned. It hurt, but like Mars, Hurricane did not feel as much pain as Bartholomew would have. Instead, the blood tinted his white hand, and he sat there, on hovering over the woman. He looked at the blood on his hand before he sudden got really angry and he had taken his hand and struck the woman across the face. That was naughty. Don't do that again.the man commanded the woman before he looked down at her kilt. He'd never seen this type of clothing before so he was slightly confused. But then he had a slight epiphany and figured it was like every other clothing, easy to get off. The name's Hurricane. Who Mars is, I don't know. the man explained to the woman, telling her the new personality's name.

His fingers went to her belt and he unhooked it and slipped the fabric from her form, not without a fight. He fought back though, determined to get her naked, to fuck her until she was screaming his name at the top of her lungs. Once he had gotten the kilt from the woman, he had gone to his bloodstained white pants and he unbuttoned them to reveal his abdomen, so perfectly sculpted to his physic. There was no reason for Krystalle to find him unattractive, for Mars was a handsome male when it came down to it. His father made sure to make him beautiful. Rurik himself was not a bad looking man, so Mars knew where he got it from. Hurricane knew he was sexy just because he was self-centered and arrogant like that. Even if he wasn't in Mars' body and was in someone else's he would be exactly the same arrogant bastard he was. He let his pants fall to his knees, not bothering to take them off all the way and then he pressed his hips against hers. He growled at her rather aggressively, between her fighting with him and him holding himself over her with his arms. He would finally get a hold of her hands and hold them above her so that she couldn't scratch at him anymore. Accept your fate. the man spoke, snarl ripping from his throat as he got a good enough grip on her hands to hold them both with one hand while the other went down to her legs. He spread them to where he could enter her, and once he had gotten this done, the man pushed himself into her, her warm core wrapped around his tool. It already felt amazing to him since his last fuck, and for some reason, this one felt more...right than anything to him. He cocked a grin as he thrusted rather roughly into the woman, to where the bed would even start to squeak underneath the activity that was happening upon it.

+05

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Krystalle Horzana · 04-11-2011, 11:13 PM

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300+ This is...absolutely awful. O____O I am so sorry that is sucks so bad. Also: That is probably a very wrong translation into Spanish.

The snap to his muzzle caused the beast to hesitate for the briefest moment, but it didn't seem to cause any shock or change of thought. His white hand rose to touch the blood left there. She ran her tongue across one tooth to clear away the metallic taste. She hadn't won, but she'd managed some revenge. She almost thought of laughing.

Until the sharp pain of a strong slap to the face shocked her into stillness.

He gave commands, and all she could do was nod vaguely in his direction. The abuse caused a stunned moment without thought. It didn't last long. He gave his name, and she could feel his fingers as they cast away what little clothing she wore off to the side. Of course she fought against him. The end was inevitable, but she could try to delay it for a long as possible. Even that lasted briefly. The man above her seemed to enjoy the fight. It ruined her desire to tussle.

She grimaced and kicked her legs at him as he grabbed bony, tan wrists in an attempt to stop the struggle; it did manage to lessen physical force used, much to her displeasure. Without acknowledging what appendage pushed against her thigh, they tensed, making the work of prying them apart more difficult. In the end, it was a futile disaster of a decision. The width of his hips kept them apart as his need found hers, the ultimately satisfying pressure against her lower body drawing the faintest noise of pleasure from the doggish female. It was cut short. This wasn't Bartholomew. There was no time to take a bit of comfort from the rhythmic creaks of the worn bed.

He just kept a grin and entered again, nothing like her more gentle lover. The subtle, building pain of the force caused her mind to twist to childhood, when first encounters had hurt at some ungodly degree; maybe she exaggerated the memory, but she didn't exaggerate the now. Pale pink eyes squinted away a stinging sensation and fingers curled against padded palms. In one final valiant attempt to 'deal' with what was soon becoming a desired situation, athletic legs kicked out at her assailant. "Lejos de mí, de cerdo asqueroso!"

Mars Bartholomew Russo · 04-13-2011, 12:34 PM

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ooc: ew short, sorry >.>' My next post will be much more interesting I'll tell you that.

The spoke something in another tongue, Hurricane was unable to translate what the words were because he had never heard the tongue before in his entire life. The words did not affect his decision in any way, though he could tell by her tone that she was not happy about what was happening. Hurricane could care less, and when she had kicked at him, she had been successful at taking him out, but he simply came back with more force. What did I say?! ACCEPT IT! the man growled and snapped at her face, aiming for her cheek. He actually was not aiming to spill any blood at the moment, but he might have snapped too close and hard for that to be a possibility. The man pushed his way back between her thighs and into her core again and he stayed there, thrusting in and pulling out. He got a rhythm going against her, working himself up for a release.

This all felt like it had happened before, yet in a much more intimate, gentle way. Hurricane noticed the thought and it was foreign and weird to him, and of course the thought would be drowned out by waves of pleasure that were flowing though his body. His fur stood on end only because of the pleasure and excitement that was causing his body to buck into the woman continuously, weither she cried about it or not. Hurricane's breathing was picking up, as was the squeaking of the bed's metal frame underneath the combined weight of the man and the woman on the mattress along with every thrust that he pushed into the woman. Hurricane's chest let out a few spare growls at the woman, for what reason was beyond him. His mismatched dilated and contracted eyes looked straight down at the woman, taking in the look of her face at random moments in time, though he also had an issue with throwing his head up slightly as he worked.

+03

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Krystalle Horzana · 04-13-2011, 11:12 PM

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She dislodged him for a moment, but it was only seconds until she found the weight of his body between her thighs again. The re-entry was shadowed by his snapping jaws, coming too close to her cheek and drawing streaks of blood that welled up past her rather short fur. One white-tipped hand slammed into the side of his face in order to push it away; she'd fight back if she damn well pleased, and there was nothing he could do to stop it short of dismemberment.

Each second that passed between the two caused Krystalle's disgust to increase, while her desire to simply give in followed suit. Maybe it wasn't Mars, but it was Mars' body, and she'd been with him so many times in the past that it couldn't be wrong. Another brief exclamation of pleasure worked its way past cream lips before fading into a snarl of irritation. One athletic leg raised to kick at him again, only serving to shift her lower half into a more comfortable position for the act; her breath caught in her chest at the slip, fingers curling against the mattress quickly.

Why not just accept it, her mind crooned, like this 'Hurricane' said? Mars, Bartholomew, Hurricane. Physically, they were all the same man. In the end, she'd been with all three some way or another. It was already too late to stop him, and forfeiting her own satisfaction wasn't worthwhile at all. The shove to his shoulder grew fainter as her fighting faded into eager hands, fingers grasping the multicolored fur at his chest to draw his body closer. Pale pink eyes avoided his own gaze, focusing instead on his cheek or the ceiling; the eyes were all that shattered her illusion of Bartholomew.

"Te amo, Mars," she cooed softly, not caring if he was Mars or the King of England; without a fight, everything seemed as it should be.

Mars Bartholomew Russo · 04-14-2011, 06:53 PM

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OOC: +5

She went to kick him again, but it just made it all the easier to continue with what he was doing. This all was beginning to be so familiar, and it was hard for Hurricane to keep control of the body the further this went on. Eventually, it wasn't Hurricane anymore. Bartholomew woke up, blinking, and his pace slowing for a moment, his breathing hard. His tool was swelling inside of the woman by now, and he instinctively pushed a few more times. He heard her cried words, and he looked down at her, his mismatched gaze returning to the soft, emotional gaze of her lover, of Bartholomew Cubbins. He was finally coherent of what was going on, but he didn't know the details. By the time he had realized things though, his knot had already gotten himself stuck inside of her. It would be then that he would actually get a whiff of the woman. She was in heat. His ears instantly fell back on his head and he looked down at her. His seed spilt inside of her, and he could feel the life leaving his tool and going into her. He let out a exasperated sigh as he looked down at her. He had a look on his face that told her "I'm sorry" right away.

I'ma so sorry Kryssy. the male spoke to the woman who was stuck underneath him. I'ma sorries. was pretty much the only thing he could say before his hand went to her bloodied face. Why did dis a happen? What'd Mars do ta ya'? the man had asked the woman because he was still confused as to what was going on. He didn't know of a third personality that would have raped the woman, he was just put here at the moment after to deal with what was going on. He looked down at his hips that were aligned with her own and he sighed again. He looked at the woman's hurt face. It looked as if she had been bitten, and by him no doubt. His ears fell flat on his head and he looked around the room for a moment to see if there was any towels he could reach to clean her face up. He didn't find any so he took to the old way of cleaning wounds. He let his tongue come from his mouth and he had lapped up the blood that dripped from the woman's face. He tenderly tended her wounds for the duration that the two would be stuck together on this bed. I din't mean ta hurt ya', Kryssy. the man spoke to her softly, his hand going to the side of her face that was not injured and he pet her tan cheeks. His eyes showed sorrow to her, showing her that he didn't mean for this to happen like this. This was against everything he was.

I love ya' Kryssy. I din't mean for dis t'happen.. the man spoke, even as his seed still split into her. They made life together, and now their both would have to suffer the consequences. Mars mostly, because this was his fault. If he wasn't a fucking mental case, none of this would have happened.

Krystalle Horzana · 04-14-2011, 11:06 PM

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Suddenly the world turned into something confusing and unpleasant. The motions of her pseudo-lover slowed before a familiar warmth spread through her body. As their bodies locked together, usually a moment of comfortable intimacy between the couple, Krystalle came to a horrific realization. The mind of Mars had switched. Bartholomew was the one who gazed down at her. White-tipped fingers released his fur and allowed her body to fit into her place against the bed. As he apologized, hands finding the wound at her cheek left by his teeth, she closed her eyes. She didn't want to hear it, but she wasn't willing to stop him. It had happened, and she was sure she'd need his comfort later on. In that moment, however, she wanted nothing.

Her hands rose to cover her eyes, head shaking uneasily against the mattress. "Shut up, Barty. Don' even wanna talk to you right now," she whispered. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't Mars' fault. It wasn't anyone's fault; she should have stayed out of the house, and he would have never been tempted. Habit was the cause of their new predicament. In the past, she had trusted him to keep his distance. Now it was clear she'd need some other venue when it came around.

Disgust in herself lead her to lift one leg and press the foot against his stomach. "Jus' get offa me so I can go make tea." The words were cold as they came from the cream muzzle of his friend, and it hurt her to be so blunt. She couldn't look at him, and didn't want to feel him as the swell of his body filled her. Making tea was better. It would give her something else to do, something else to think of. Bartholomew could apologize as much as he wanted when she was able to leave the bedroom.

Mars Bartholomew Russo · 04-15-2011, 01:11 PM

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OOC: +5

The woman under him seemed disgusted. Either with him, or herself, he didn't know, but he was feeling horrible right now, even though he he experienced a release, he had done something horrible, and Bartholomew was trying to such his head for a reason that Mars would be a stupid asshole and do this. She told him to shut up, and for once, Bartholomew was as silent as the quiet man was known for being. If anyone didn't know better, you could mistake this for another transition, but alas, it was not, it was simply Bartholomew listening to the woman's orders. The man held his chest above her, his arms on either side of her. He panted lightly, trying to get some air, and to regulate his breathing. It was hot in the room, and it smelt of sex all over his room now. Sometimes Bartholomew wondered why Mars didn't noticed those stale sex scents that would find themselves in his room from time to time. Bartholomew held his ears pinned against his head and then he looked away from the little Latina that was under him. She pulled her leg up and pushed at his stomach with her foot and she spoke to tell him to get off of her.

I'ma kinda stuck.. the man pointed out and he looked away from the female. The only thing he really could do was shift them into a more comfortable position on their sides on the bed. He pulled them to where he was side to side with her, which twisted her as well but at least he was not on top of he anymore. He still held his mismatched ears flat against his head, and he looked away from her because of the shame he felt. He would look at her if he felt like he could. She was probably disgusted at him, and he felt bad about this all. None of this should have happened but it did, and it was horrible.

There was a cruel silence. One that was absolutely horrible to the tri-colored man, and it showed on his face. He looked pained, and disappointed. The silence continued until the man's tool had withdrawn from the woman's body, un-attaching himself to her. He let out a relieved sigh as he flopped over on his back finally. He still avoided her gaze, and had the burning urge to tell her that he was sorry yet again. He closed his eyes for a moment and thought about where Mars would be keeping the first aid supplies. He thought hard about it before he had gotten up and he opened the locked door and walked down the hall to the bathroom and he went in there. He searched the counters and once he found the box he was looking for, he opened it and pulled out some disinfectant and some gauze. He then went to go find the woman who he had hurt. He placed the items on the counter when he had come around the corner into the kitchen where she was..

Krystalle Horzana · 04-17-2011, 10:55 PM

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She didn't want to speak to him, and she didn't validate his words or movements with responses. Instead, she allowed him to reposition their bodies, eyes closing with each new jostle to her form if only due to mixed feelings. Still, she didn't want to look at him. It wasn't Bartholomew's fault. She knew it wasn't his fault, but it was so easy to be angry at every part of the man she loved so much. As the silence permeated the air around him, her mind twirled over possibilities; with any luck, nothing had been cemented during their time together. With luck, they wouldn't bear any permanent ties to each other. She was never so lucky, however.

When she was finally released from him, the Latin female allowed herself to lay against his body for a few lingering moments. Her face turned into his chest. A sigh warmed the space between them. Finally, Krystalle stood, rubbing at the joints of her hips. The room seemed unpleasant now. She had to leave. In silence, she led herself from the bedroom and sought out the kitchen; tea would be a marvelous way to forget. Pale pink eyes found the cups they used and carefully cleaned them. Even though she had hoped to push the events from that evening to some dark corner of her mind, they returned to the front. Familiar warmth spread between her thighs, creeping into her stomach and turning it into knots. Violating as it had been, she wouldn't deny some satisfaction from the encounter.

Her ears caught the sounds of Mars moving around. As he lumbered into the room, she kept her eyes turned away, focusing entirely on their small dishes. The scent of disinfectant invaded her nose. She sneezed, glancing up only long enough to see the items set on the counter. Remaining solemn, her body turned away from him. "You should go sleep 'r somethin', Bart."

Mars Bartholomew Russo · 04-19-2011, 12:35 PM

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OOC: +3

When he had come into the room, she had only pretty much thrown a glance in his direction. She probably didn't even look directly at him. The once loud Bartholomew found nothing to be funny in this type of situation, and he did feel incredibly awkward, and for once he had been quiet, like Mars had been quiet about things. In this situation, it probably would be hard to tell who was who. The woman remained turned away from him, and then she had spoke to him, telling him that he should go to bed. The only reason Bartholomew was awake now was because the other two personalities were resting pretty much. The man shook his head to the woman, though he forgot that she had been turned away from her. I wanna cup 'f tea. the man simply stated. She should have known that there was barely any down time for both Mars and Bartholomew, and when Bartholomew showed up, and then went to sleep, then he would probably wake up as Mars the next time. Afta' tha' I'll go lock m'self in mah room I guess... the man spoke, his voice slightly sad, but still having his twang that he had in his speech. He let out a small sigh, and he let his eyes fall off of the woman for a moment. He then thought about leaving the house, perhaps to go just do something to keep his busy mind away from the Russo residence. Or I'll leave here. the man mentioned, his voice rather lower than normal Bartholomew voice was.

He clicked his clawed fingers rhythmically against Mars' makeshift table that was in the kitchen, and he stared at his fingers, not daring to really look at the woman for the moments that he wished that he had a sketchbook and a pencil so he could draw the stress of what happened just now out and be okay. He knew that all he had to do is bear the tea making and maybe having to help clean up the woman's face and then he could go in his room and lock himself in there and draw until he turned back into Mars or something. He didn't know. He stood there though and then he looked back up at Krystalle. Ya shouldsa lets meh help ya' cleans yerr face, Kryssy. the man mentioned, but did not move towards her, just because he wanted her approval to help her before he did anything. He knew he was just being a pest now, but he wanted to make things better. He really did..

Krystalle Horzana · 04-21-2011, 11:16 AM

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The more time she spent with the man she lived with, the more her heart sank into the pit of her stomach. All Bartholomew wanted to do was make things better. All Krystalle wanted to do was smash his face into the counter. The tan-and-cream Latina hovered over the tea in silence as he spoke. He wanted tea, and then he'd go away. He wanted tea, and then he'd go away. He wanted tea.

She picked up the filled cup and hurled it across the room, aiming for the Russo, though her aim had never been very good. "There! Ya got your damn tea, Barty! Leave me alone!" Her hands curled into fists, rage fueling the gaze that fell upon the bi-colored male. Quickly as she'd thrown the cup, she turned away, unwilling to set eyes on him in that moment. She couldn't do it. Bartholomew wanted to make things better. She wanted to kill him. Even as he offered to clean her face, she could only imagine bludgeoning him to death with one of their makeshift chairs.

"M'face is fine. Ain' nothin' 'm not used to. Go to bed, Bartholomew. I ain' got time for this." Each word was soft, laced with her distress and anger, and directed at him while her back was turned. She couldn't offer much else. There was nothing left to say. In the morning, she might forgive him. As it stood in that moment, she couldn't. And he shouldn't have expected it, not after what he'd witnessed in the bedroom.

Mars Bartholomew Russo · 04-26-2011, 02:16 PM

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OOC: This is my last post in this thread.

Bartholomew was not expecting what happened next to happen at all. The woman had picked up one of the teacups, filled it with the hot water, and then she hurled the dish at the man. The cup ended up hitting him square in the jaw, and then it fell to the ground and shattered. The hot water had attacked some of his fur, but it was not as bad as the pain that shot through his jaw. His maw let out whimpers, and then his hands covered his mouth and he got up from his seat. He turned away from her, and she turned from him. She told him to go to bed, that her face was fine. He left the supplies for her to clean her face on the counter still, and he had exited the room silently, the only thing being heard was the jingling of the belt buckle that was on his leather jacket and the shuffling of his feet against the floor of their housing.

Bartholomew moved quickly up stairs to Mars' room. When he got there he had quietly closed the door and he locked it behind him. The room smelt horrible. Like sex, and shame. Violence, blood. "What the fuck happened, Mars? the man couldn't help but ask, but sadly, Mars was not present so he could not hear the question of the other man. Hurricane himself hadn't been around either. Bartholomew was alone...

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